//------------------------------// // Issue 6: The Mansion of Wonders! // Story: Mission Control // by Samey90 //------------------------------// Tootsie Flute swallowed the first spoon of her cereal, watching the grumpier of her mothers unsurely. Bon Bon was furrowing her eyebrows while reading a newspaper, which was never a good sign. One could expect the storm to start at any moment. Tootsie gulped. From her seat, she could easily read the title on the first page. Masked Hooligans Destroy Restaurant. “Typical,” Bon Bon muttered quietly, as if she was talking to themselves. “Kids these days. You let them eat too much fast food and they run around in tight pants, destroying restaurants.” Tootsie nodded, saying nothing and focusing on her Mesquite Wood Chips. “Back in my days, ponies were more strict for their foals. If I destroyed a restaurant–” “Yeah, Lyra told me,” Tootsie muttered. “She also told me about dat time when ya broke into a zoo and–” Bon Bon blushed. “I didn’t wrestle a gorilla, if that’s what she told you. And I only did that because I wanted to save Lyra.” “Is dis why auntie Vinyl is banned from zoo?” Tootsie asked innocently. “No.” Bon Bon blushed even more. “Vinyl is banned from zoo for... other reasons.” They heard a sound of a door opening and Lyra walked into the kitchen, levitating a bag with groceries. “Hello, girls,” she said, putting the bag on the table. “Tootsie, we need to talk.” Tootsie gulped. If any of her mothers ever wanted to talk, it was usually Bon Bon. If Lyra learned about the HayDonald’s... “I’ve met Cheerilee in the market,” Lyra said. “She told me about your marks...” “Oh bugger...” Tootsie muttered. “What did I tell you about using such words at home?” Bon Bon approached Tootsie. “And what did you fail this time?” “Spelling,” Tootsie whispered, lowering her head. “So, I’m grounded, right?” “Yes,” Bon Bon replied. “No,” Lyra said simultaneously. “I’ll revise spelling with you.” “Yes, but we will ground you too.” Bon Bon glared at Lyra. “Lyra will revise stuff with you later. You’re barely at home during the weekends.” “Okay.” Tootsie sighed and walked upstairs. She closed the door to her room behind her and lay down on her bed, muttering various curses under her breath. Suddenly, she heard loud humming from under her bed. She looked there and saw that the noise was coming from the box where she’d stuffed her costume. Looking at the door and listening for her parents’ hoofsteps, she pulled the box out and opened it. The sound was coming from a small communicator Button had given to every member of their group. Tootsie shook her head and pushed the switch. “Is that thing on? Tootsie?” Button’s voice could be heard from a small speaker. “Yes?” Tootsie spoke to the microphone. “You need to come to us,” Button said. “We just got a message that someone’s gonna steal some expensive necklace during a party in Silver Spoon’s mansion...” Tootsie heard Twist in the background, yelling, “It’s the Silver Heart of the Duchess of Maretonia, you idiot!” “Yeah, whatever,” Button muttered. “Anyway, somepony threw a spoon at our window, with a message attached to it. We need to do something.” “Well, ya’ll need to do sumfin’...” Tootsie replied. “I’m grounded.” “Why?” Button asked. “Did Lyra and Bon Bon know about the HayDonald’s?” “Not really,” Tootsie said, rolling her eyes. “Da spelling test is a different pair of bollocks though.” Button sighed. “What are we gonna do now? Tag has some meeting to attend...” “Ya’re gonna go to Silver yerself,” Tootsie muttered, turning the communicator off and throwing it on her bed. She then lay down, staring at the ceiling and sighed, thinking about bashing other ponies’ heads. “Okay,” Button said, looking around their base. “We’ll have to do that alone. How are we gonna get to that party?” “Don’t look at me,” Twist replied. “I still wonder why she didn’t invite me. I guess it’s because of those comics I borrowed from her.” “What comics?” Button asked, his ears perking up. “Those with tentacles. My mom confiscated them and I can’t give them back,” Twist replied, her face having the same colour as her mane. Button nodded. “Wait! Tentacles!” he exclaimed. “Dinky can climb into the ventilation duct and hang from the ceiling over the necklace... If somepony tries to steal it, she can grab it with the vines, shoot a potato to the head...” “Two potatoes,” Dinky said. “Just to be sure.” “Okay, two.” Button scratched his mane. “But she’ll also need some support... An undercover agent who’d watch the guests...” “A waiter,” Nursery Rhyme muttered. “Have you ever remembered how the waiter looks like? Also, if we can pass as teenagers...” “I can’t go there,” Twist said. “My mane is kinda distinctive.” “Same with me.” Nursery Rhyme looked at Button. “Seems that you’ll have to go there.” Button sighed. “But you need to get me a waiter’s outfit. Dinky, can you sneak there and steal one for me?” “Sure,” Dinky replied. “Do I have to put on my costume?” “Better not,” Twist said when Dinky walked away. “We’re kinda wanted after last night. By the way, we have to do something about that.” “Repaint our armoured carriage and go to the hairstylist. We pay fifty bits to grow beards and we’re free.” Button shrugged. “It’s easy.” Nursery Rhyme shook her head. “It’s true what they say about light and sound...” She sighed. “Some ponies seem bright until they speak.” “Like the guards,” Button muttered. “Have you heard something about the investigation, Nursery?” “They keep wondering how someone got smashed by an ice cream machine and walked away on their own,” Nursery Rhyme replied. “And the lab analyses rubber from wheels of those two skaters.” She smirked. “I got a vial of Tag’s blood to play with...” “Speaking of Tag...” Twist muttered. “What kind of meeting is she attending?” The headquarters of Ponyville Filly Scouts was a large house built of wooden logs, located a few steps from the Everfree Forest. It was usually quite busy and that Saturday was no different – the meeting was about to start. “Okay, girls,” Cranberry Crisp, the scoutmaster, said. She sat in the middle of a large hall and looked at the fillies sitting around her. “Let’s start with the roll call. Do-Si-Do?” “Present,” a peanut butter-coloured filly said. “Rah Rah Raisin?” “Pre– present,” a little unicorn replied. “Caramel deLite?” “Oui.” A white unicorn nodded gently. “Ginger Snap?” “Present,” Tagalong said, straightening in her seat. “You missed our last meeting,” Cranberry Crisp muttered, looking into Tagalong’s eyes. “I was sick,” Tagalong said quickly, blushing a bit. “You, sick?” Cranberry Crisp shrugged. “Anyway, we have a bigger problem. Recently, I have noticed that the local pack of timberwolves had been attacked. At least three timberwolves were killed and a few more were wounded. Those who did that used some kind of a vehicle... It seems that they also used powerful magic.” Tagalong gulped, trying to hide behind Rah Rah Raisin. “Anyway, we need to protect the environment,” Cranberry Crisp said, fire burning in her eyes. “I think none of you has Environment Protector Badge yet... Not to mention the Sharpshooter Badge or the Peacemaker Badge...” She paused, watching the faces of her little friends. “We try to be friendly... But ponies who try to destroy the planet we live on are not our friends! Do you know what that means?” “Le massacre!” Caramel deLite exclaimed. “La guerre sainte!” “Exactly!” Cranberry Crisp smirked. “We shall fight in the Everfree! We shall fight in Prance, we shall fight in the seas and oceans...” She walked to the chest of drawers and opened one of them. Then she grabbed an anti-materiel rifle and a box of .50 bullets. “Choose your weapons, girls. We’ll go and convince some ponies that they should change their behaviour...” Button looked at Nursery Rhyme and sighed. “Outside the box, huh? Inside, outside, on the walls, under the box and above the box, right?” “Well, this was more like ‘under the box’,” Nursery muttered, staring at the outfit Dinky brought to them. “What’s that?” “Waiter’s outfit!” Dinky exclaimed, standing in attention. “I stole it while everypony were busy preparing the party!” “It’s a waitress’ outfit.” Button rested his head on his hooves, trying not to look at the white shirt, black skirt, and a matching tie. “Do you think I’m gonna put this on?” “Well...” Nursery Rhyme smirked. “It seems to be the right size...” Twist chuckled. “Come on, Button... Nopony will know that it’s you... Also, Nursery probably thinks you’ll look sexy in it.” Button stood up. “I’m not gonna put this thing on!” Button grabbed a tray and walked to the table with it. The outfit was more comfortable than he had initially thought, but still he was looking at the guests in fear, hoping that nopony would recognise him. Twist and Nursery had made him a make up and gave him an earpiece and glasses with a camera in them. When he looked into the mirror, he thought that he looked like a Neighponese schoolfilly. “Stop looking at yourself in the mirror!” Twist exclaimed. “We’re not interested in your face. Or at least I’m not.” “What am I supposed to do?” Button whispered. “Dinky has it easier – she just sits in the ventilation system.” “Watch the guests. Who looks shady to you?” Button looked at the ponies gathered in the garden of Silver Spoon’s mansion. He recognised Silver’s parents, as well as Silverspeed – Silver’s poor cousin who was practically living with her richer family. There were also some ponies he couldn’t recognise. “See this grey guy with sunglasses?” Nursery asked. “His name is Hoity Toity. He’s a fashion designer.” “Yeah,” Button muttered. “Do you think he may be a burglar?” “Everypony can be a burglar,” Nursery replied. “Look at other waiters too. Nopony pays attention to them.” “Okay,” Button whispered. “Hey! You!” Button raised his head and looked around. “Yes, you!” Silverspeed walked to Button. “I don’t think I recognise you... What’s your name, filly?” “Umm...” Button frowned. “Eliza Doolittle?” Silverspeed sighed. “Okay, so now Eliza should do something more than ‘little’.” She poked Button. “Bring me a whiskey, kid. Quick.” Button nodded and ran to the kitchen. “Button? Button, where are you?” Twist facehoofed. “Tell me that this idiot didn’t go to serve the guests instead of taking care of the necklace.” “I’m afraid he did,” Nursery muttered, staring at the console. “How’s Dinky? Haven’t heard anything from her for a while.” “Let’s see...” Twist pushed the button. “Dinky? Where are you?” When they finally heard Dinky, her voice was muffled and barely distinguishable from heavy static. “I’m in the ventilation duct above the toilet. I’m hanging from the pipe and watching ponies go potty...” “What?” Twist rested her head on her hooves and looked down on the control panel. “Why don’t you go to the room with the necklace?” “The ducts are too narrow there,” Dinky replied. “As if someone didn’t want any ponies to go there...” “You don’t say!” Twist banged her head against the control panel. “Why are you hiding in the toilet? Can’t you hang from the ceiling above the necklace or something?” “I’d have to get out of the ventilation and you told me to hide there.” Dinky sighed. “Also, I thought that maybe the burglar would have to go potty too...” “Chill out, sister,” Nursery Rhyme said, seeing that the colour of Twist’s face was now matching her mane. “Dinky, you can get out of there, just make sure no one sees you!” “With a potato?” “No!” Nursery facehoofed. “Just hide in the shadows and–” “Sorry, somepony’s coming,” Dinky said and her voice drowned in static. Nursery sighed, staring at the microphone. “Sis, do you sometimes have a feeling that everyone we know is, using unprofessional terms...” “... retarded,” Silverspeed muttered to herself. “This whole party is retarded.” She walked through the bathroom and reached to the loose tile on the wall. Behind it, there was a mirror, a razor blade, and a string bag. Silverspeed sat on the toilet, put some white crystals from the string bag on the mirror and began pulverising them with the razor blade. Suddenly, she heard a noise. At first, she thought it was coming from the dining room, but it was nothing like the usual party sounds. Unless the guests were all tentacle monsters whose music consisted of atonal banging against sheet metal with a sledgehammer. Silverspeed looked around, but at the same time, the noise stopped. She shrugged and went back to her mirror. It took her a while to notice that the mirror was also staring back at her. She blinked, wondering if she hadn’t accidentally inhaled some of the white powder already. But no, there was clearly a pair of yellow eyes staring at her from the mirror. Slowly, Silverspeed looked up. To her surprise, she saw a small unicorn filly hanging from the ceiling on something that looked like thick vines protruding from her hooves. “Hello,” the filly said, lowering herself on the vines. Silverspeed barely stifled a scream. She heard a splash and realised that opening the toilet seat was a good idea. “Umm... hello?” she whispered, blushing. “You haven’t seen me here,” the filly said, landing on the floor. The vines disappeared, which brought a sense of much-needed normalcy into Silverspeed’s world. “Or what?” Silverspeed asked. “Or I’ll shoot you with a potato,” the filly replied. “Fair offer,” Silverspeed muttered, watching the filly leaving the toilet. She sat there for a few minutes, before throwing the white powder and the remaining crystals into the bowl and flushing them. Twist and Nursery watched for a while as Dinky found a good place on the ceiling, right above the small pedestal with the necklace on it. Twist pushed a switch, trying to localise Button. “Wonder where he is,” she muttered. “You don’t think they locked him in the basement?” “I hope he didn’t go to pick Silver Spoon up,” Nursery said. “Or else, I’ll have to lock them both in my basement...” “Hey, I’m using it!” Twist exclaimed. “It’d be awkward if I had to–” Somepony knocked on the door. Nursery automatically reached to the button activating the flamethrower, but Twist stopped her, pointing at one of the screens. “Tootsie?” Nursery asked, rushing to the door. “What are you doing here?” “I spent half of da day wiff Lyra, learnin’ spellin’,” Tootsie replied, walking inside. “I made a rope outta my sheets and ran away when she was done. What are ya doin’?” “Dinky is watching the necklace, while Button disappeared to have coitus with Silver Spoon,” Nursery replied. “May I borrow your wrench?” “To ‘ave what?” Tootsie raised her eyebrows. “From da context, I guess dey’re fu–” “No, it’s just Nursery being jealous,” Twist said, pushing her sister away. “The thing is, we don’t know what’s going on with him.” “I can check dat,” Tootsie said. “Gonna go dere and find ‘im.” Twist shrugged. “We have glasses with a camera for you, but we have no disguise...” “Don’t worry about dat...” Tootsie smirked. Silver Tray was Silver Spoon’s distant cousin. That, however, didn’t mean much. Just like Silverspeed, he’d come to his rich family only to find out that they didn’t need yet another family member trying to put his hooves on their money. They, however, needed a waiter. Silver Tray spent most of the day helping with the party and was now looking for a secluded place to hide and take a rest. He was just heading to a group of bushes, when he heard a filly’s voice. “Excuse me! Can ya help me?” “Who are you?” Silver Tray asked. “I’m just a small filly who got lost and tangled in the bushes. I need an adult...” Silver Tray smirked. “I am an adult...” He walked into the bushes, loosening his tie. Suddenly, a loud “pwang!” could be heard from there, followed by a sound of a body hitting the ground. Few minutes later, Tootsie emerged from the bushes, dressed as a waiter. “I was never on yer side, wanker,” Tootsie muttered, throwing a slightly bent frying pan away. She heard static in her ear and smacked it to fix the earpiece hidden inside. “There’s a problem, Tootsie,” she heard Twist’s voice. “Your accent...” “Oh, don’t vorry about zat,” Tootsie replied. “I am ze master of disguise.” “Well, I don’t think the Silvers would hire a granddaughter of some officer from Pferdreich as a waitress,” Twist muttered. Tootsie thought for a moment before clearing her throat. “Well, I’m going to speak proper then. Steady, old chap. I am heading to the kitchen, since I am a tiny bit peckish. Hereinafter, I could use a spot of tea.” “Hereinafter?” Twist asked. “Shh,” Tootsie whispered, trotting to the kitchen door. She could hear the cello sounds coming from the ballroom – most of the guests were there, allowing her to go unnoticed. “Chocks away.” “What can you see there?” Twist’s voice was piercing Tootsie’s ear, especially since the speaker was a little damaged, causing loud feedback to almost deafen her. “The usual, luv,” Tootsie replied. “Condom Bleu, deep-fried horseapples, snails with stuff... Wait.” Tootsie levitated a snail and swallowed it. “Not bad. Could use some horseradish, though, old chap.” “She’s disgusting,” Nursery Rhyme muttered. “You do realise that I am still perfectly capable of hearing you?” Tootsie asked, walking along the table with food and snatching snacks from it. “Hey, look, brussel sprouts with caviare and thistle!” “I’m gonna puke,” Twist said. “I can’t. I’m a nurse,” Nursery added. “I have to be tough.” “Oh, come on.” Tootsie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad. It tastes like chicken.” “How do you know how chicken tastes like?” Nursery asked, her voice sounding so weak that it was barely recognisable in the earpiece. Before Tootsie could reply, a cook trotted to her. “Hey, you! Yes, you who are talking to yourself!” “I wasn’t eating anything from the table, old chap,” Tootsie said, standing in attention. “What’s your name, kid?” the cook asked, staring at Tootsie and squinting. “Umm... Artful Dodger,” Tootsie replied quickly. “I gracefully dodge the guests while walking with a tray...” The cook looked at her closer. “A snub-nosed, flat-browed, common-faced colt, huh?” He smirked. “And as dirty a juvenile as one would wish to see... But with all the airs and manners of a stallion.” The cook nodded. “Ms. Octavia will soon finish her recital. Once she goes to her boudoir, you’ll go there and bring her a drink.” “Aye, sir,” Tootsie said. “Go there, give her a drink, and Bob’s your uncle.” “Exactly,” the cook replied and went to pour a glass of wine for Octavia. Tootsie levitated it and went out of the kitchen. “Nice stuff,” she muttered to herself, staring at the swords hanging on the walls. “Wonder if it’s real silver on da handle... And how much fluffy bunny I can get for dat...” “Your accent is slipping,” Twist muttered. “And remember that you’re not here to steal stuff.” “Bugger off,” Tootsie said, walking to the door at the end of the corridor. She lifted her hoof and hesitated. “Come one, not gonna lose da bottle now, innit?” she muttered to herself and knocked. “Come in!” a soft voice called. Tootsie opened the door and walked inside. Octavia was sitting in front of a large mirror. Tootsie caught a glimpse of herself in it – she thought that with thick-framed glasses covering her eyelashes, and a tuxedo she looked like some boffin. “Hello,” Tootsie said. “I brought a drink for you, ma’am.” “Oi, thank you, dear,” Octavia replied, taking a glass of wine. “You are from Great Bridletain too, right?” “Yeah, from Foaldon,” Tootsie replied. “How did you know?” “Oh, I’m from Foaldon too,” Octavia said, taking a sip of her wine. “Ya may not believe, but I’m from East End.” “Bloody hell,” Tootsie muttered. “I’m a Cockneigh too. Chitty chitty bang bang and so on. Damn, da world is a small place...” “Yeah,” Octavia said. “Funny how that happens... What’s your name, mate?” “Artful Dodger,” Tootsie replied. “I can speak like dat, innit? Tired of dat posh Tom tit...” “Of course, luv.” Octavia looked at Tootsie more carefully. “You know, Art, I knew a dustbin lid that looked like you once. But she was a filly.” Tootsie gulped. “And what happened to her?” “I don’t know,” Octavia replied. “I moved to Equestria to learn in Canterlot Musical Academy. But I’ve heard that her parents were killed in a battle with Manewall HC fans...” “It was Manechester United,” Tootsie said, sighing. “But yeah, daddy ‘ad beaten up a few colts from Manewall too...” “How do you know?” Octavia asked. “Busted,” Twist whispered in Tootsie’s ear. “Quick, tell her that you’re transsexual!” Nursery exclaimed, almost deafening Tootsie again. “I’m... trainsexual,” Tootsie muttered. “Wait, what?” “Exactly, what?” Octavia raised her eyebrows. “I mean, I don’t judge, but that’s strange, at your age...” “You’ve always wanted to be a colt, dummkopf!” Nursery shouted. Tootsie winced – even through a layer of distorted voice she could hear the sound of a hoof contacting a forehead. “I always wanted to be a colt,” Tootsie said, barely stifling a groan. “Oh...” Octavia blinked. Suddenly, Tootsie felt that she was hugged by the cellist. “I guess it must be very tough for you...” “Not really,” Tootsie muttered, trying to free herself from Octavia’s grasp. She thought of a leaflet she’d read once at school and decided to go with it. “My mums are very supportive towards me...” Suddenly she found herself wondering about the spelling of the word “towards”. “That’s nice,” Octavia said. “How are you doing?” “Dey’re dykes, so we’re kinda one, big, queer family,” Tootsie muttered, ignoring Nursery’s stifled laughter. “We kinda ‘ave some argy-bargy wiff bees and honey. For da operation.” Octavia nodded and opened her cello case. “You know, I got paid for that recital, but I have enough money for myself. Here, take that bag of sand...” “Thanks!” Tootsie exclaimed. “I have to go back to work, I think.” “Of course, luv,” Octavia said, watching Tootsie prancing to the door. “Cheerio.” “Bag of sand? What the hell is that?” Nursery Rhyme whispered. Tootsie heard a noise as if somepony slammed a microphone. “Is that thing even on?” “It’s a thousand bits,” Twist said. “I think we can safely admit that our niece is a gypsy.” “You tell me,” Nursery muttered. “When we played poker, she looked into her cards once and knew not only what cards I had, but also what’d happen to me in the next week or so. Can she even hear us?” Tootsie walked down the corridor, still thinking about her encounter with Octavia. She was barely paying attention to her surroundings, clutching the bits under her tuxedo. After a minute or so, the noises coming from the communicator finally attracted her attention. “What’s up?” Tootsie asked. “You okay there, Tootsie?” Nursery Rhyme asked. Tootsie sighed. “If any of me mothers hears dat I’m trainsexual...” “Transsexual,” Nursery muttered with a sigh. “What I said.” Tootsie groaned. “Anyway, if dey hear ‘bout it–” “Hey, it won’t be that bad,” Twist said. “You said that yourself. They’ll understand that since they’re both–” Tootsie shook her head. “I bloody know dat! But try ta ‘xplain Lyra dat I ain’t wanna ‘ave no wankie! Anyway, Nursery, if dey ‘ear dat, I’m gonna stomp on yer ‘ead till yer brain flows outta yer pies and britneys, scrap it off da floor, fry it wiff onion, eat it, and use yer skull as a chamber pot. Got it?” Tootsie waited for a few minutes, but there was no single sound coming from the earpiece. She shrugged. “Dat reminds me,” she said. “Turn dat bloody camera off, I’m gonna take a piss.” There was no answer. Tootsie walked to the door with a picture of a mare on it and pushed it open. “Excuse me,” a brown earth waitress who was just washing her hooves said. “It’s a little filly’s room. Colts have–” “Button, ya bloody imbecile, it’s me!” Tootsie chuckled, staring at the dress Button was wearing. “Are ya trainsexual?” “No, I totally never did anything to my train,” Button replied quickly. “Tootsie? Weren’t you grounded?” “Only gods can judge me,” Tootsie said. “I ‘eard ya need help.” Button nodded. “Well, since you’re here... Can we switch clothes? This thing is rather uncomfortable...” Tootsie’s reply made Button blush. “I’ve never thought about my mother that way...” “Ya’re da only one,” Tootsie said. “Anyway, turn on yer ear-thingamajig. My aunts can’t find ya.” “Something strange happened to me,” Button muttered. “But I think I know who is the thief.” “How?” “It’s a long story.” Tootsie shrugged. “We ‘ave some time, I guess.” Button cleared his throat. “Well, it all starts in Silver Spoon’s basement...” Tootsie put a hoof on Button’s mouth and looked around. “Don’t say dat aloud, mate, or Nursery’ll strap ya to da table and rip ya a new ‘ole in da arse.” “You do realise that you’re both wearing glasses with cameras in them and I can hear your every word?” Nursery Rhyme asked. Button blushed, but after a second went pale, his eyes shrinking to pinpricks. “I’ve just used the toilet...” “I know...” Nursery replied, purring at the end of sentence. “How d’ya fancy watchin’ me deliver a pavement pizza?” Tootsie asked, making a gagging sound. “Considering what you’ve eaten, that’d be an interesting experience,” Nursery said. Tootsie rolled her eyes in a manner that would make Bon Bon proud. “Oh, go fu–” Button cleared his throat. Tootsie sighed. “Why is da whole universe interruptin’ me when I’m tryin’ to say–” “I wanted to tell you who’s the burglar,” Button replied. Tootsie walked to the door and locked it. “C’mon, mate.” Button cursed under his breath, trying to balance a heavy tray on his head. He trotted out of the kitchen and walked to the ballroom. He stood by a group of teenage mares and smiled, showing his teeth. “Would you fancy a drink?” he asked. The closest of the teenagers, a blue earth mare with a large pink bow in her blonde mane gave him a look usually reserved for something important yet not pleasing to the eye, like a piece of manure on the pavement. “That’s, like, very nice of you,” she said, grabbing a drink and turning back to her friends. “And then I, like, told him that...” Button wanted to go somewhere else, but his gaze went into close contact with the mare’s curvy behind. It wouldn’t take him more than a few seconds to remember that he had a mission and go away. However, he also heard what they were talking about. “He said that, like, he totally has no money!” The blue mare rolled her eyes. “Imagine that? Like, do I have to buy jewellery myself? Scandalous!” “Oh my gosh! That’s, like, inexcusable,” the other mare, pink with a blue mane, said. “Like, we need to take care of that.” “As if. Like, we need to, like, get there.” The mare turned to Button. “Why are you, like, still standing here? Like, you don’t have anything else to do?” “I think I have,” Button replied and ran away from the ballroom. He lost his tray in the corridor, but it didn’t stop him. In fact, he was stopped in the kitchen when a butler kicked him. It was a precise kick, practised by the butler for years. Its force changed Button’s trajectory two inches to the right, which was enough for him to bounce off the fat cook’s behind and fall into a laundry chute. The butler smirked. Everything was going according to the plan. Button screamed, falling down the chute. He had a brief thought that his skirt should slow down the fall, but at the same moment he saw a quickly approaching laundry basket. Before he had time to think about unusuality of such a phenomenon, he hit the basket tail-first. “You are here, at last,” a voice said from the dark corner of the basement. Button stood up, shaking some lacy lingerie off his back. “Who are you?” he asked. “Don’t worry,” the voice said. “We’re both playing for the same team...” Button shrugged. “I’m not so sure...” He was sure, however, that his mother warned him about strange voices talking to him in the basement. “Oh, come on...” Button heard trotting and strange ringing. After a moment, the filly stepped into a circle of light. She had grey coat and violet eyes. Her mane was in two shades of grey, both lighter than her coat. It was flowing freely, partially covering her outfit – tight, white and purple spandex, the very sight of which made Button realise that his skirt was a bit too tight for his liking. The weirdest part were, however, spoons sewn to her uniform, forming a silver armour. Button was sure that he’d never seen her before. “Who are you?” “I’m the Silver Spooner, Hero of Ponyville.” The Silver Spooner pointed her hoof at Button. “And you’re a colt, little filly!” “Not my fault,” Button muttered, straightening his clothes. “The friend who got me this costume can only count to potato. Literally.” “Well,” the Silver Spooner said. “I have noticed your recent activities at the HayDonald’s... And it was me who brought you here...” “The message.” Button nodded. “It was on a spoon.” The Silver Spooner nodded. “Exactly. I would send a message to those two rollerskating rascals, but you were at least avoiding breaking the windows. I don’t want my house to be destroyed.” “So, you live in Silver Spoon’s house?” Button asked. “I’ve never noticed you.” “Yes, you can say that I live in her house,” the Silver Spooner replied with a barely noticeable sigh. “Anyway, crime in Ponyville isn’t something we can fight alone. You’re not alone here, I suppose?” “No. Di– I mean, the Potato Mare is here too.” “The Potato Mare?” “She sat on a mutated potato and now has a second, plant-based brain in her ass,” Button replied. “At least that’s what Nursery says and I believe her in that matter.” “Interesting.” the Silver Spooner leaned closer to Button. “Are there more of you? I think it would be better if all the superheroes of Ponyville formed a team.” Fire burned in her eyes. “Together, we’ll be able to eradicate evil once and for all!” “Well, there’s The T, but she doesn’t have any superpowers, just gadgets and fancy armour.” Button sat on the edge of the basket. “And there’s Captain Cockneigh.” “I think I saw her,” the Silver Spooner said. “Is it that brute wearing a flag, speaking gibberish, and hitting ponies with a large tool?” “Yup, it’s her. Too bad she’s grounded.” Button sighed. “We could use someone to whack those burglars with something heavy.” “We need to be quiet,” the Silver Spooner replied, squinting. “We don’t want another HayDonald’s... Especially in my house.” “There’s already Dinky in there,” Button said. “Some windows may end up smashed. I don’t know if I told you, but she can shoot potatoes from her–” “Seriously? Fascinating.” The Silver Spooner nodded. “I mean, a bit gross, but fascinating nonetheless. Is there somepony else in your group?” Button nodded. “Tagalong. She’s kinda freaky.” The Silver Spooner rolled her eyes. “Button, you just told me that one of your teammates shoots tubers from her rectum. What can be more freaky than that?” “The first time I met her, she shot herself with a shotgun. She then commented on the size of blood splatter.” Button shuddered. “She’s, like, an immortal filly scout. Think about it.” The Silver Spooner nodded slowly, her eyes widening. “Bloody hell...” she whispered. “Exactly. Anyway, I know who’s going to steal the necklace,” Button said. “Two teens in tacky clothes.” The Silver Spooner looked at the small screen in front of her. It wasn’t as impressive as the one Button was using in the tower, but it still had connection to cameras in the whole house. “I can see them. From what I know, they’re named Surf and Turf. They’re going there...” “Damn,” Button muttered. “The Potato Mare is there! Either she’s going to hurt them or they’re going to hurt her!” “I can’t give myself away,” the Silver Spooner said. “You need to go and help her.” She looked at the screen again. “Hmm, that waiter looks familiar...” She turned back to Button only to find out that he was running out of the basement. She shrugged. “Hope he notices the slippery step...” “So, ya told me da whole story to tell me dat we need to ‘urry?” Tootsie asked, rolling her eyes. “Couldn’t ya tell me dat on da way?” “Don’t worry, I’ve seen them,” Button replied. “They’re in the corridor, waiting for everypony to go somewhere else.” He winced. “My head hurts. I fell down the stairs on my way here.” “I ain’t give a fiddler’s fart about yer ‘ead!” Tootsie exclaimed, running out of the toilet. They trotted through the corridors, accidentally bumping into Silver Spoon and knocking her down. “Sorry!” Button exclaimed, helping Silver up. He noticed that she was wearing a really nice, blue dress. “I saw you looking at her!” Nursery Rhyme hissed into the microphone. Button sighed and quickened up his pace. It was hard to keep up with Tootsie, who tore through the crowd like a small, dragonfire-powered icebreaker. That is, if icebreakers were able to mutter curses under their breaths. Suddenly, she turned to Button. “So, ya’re tellin’ dat some gal callin’ ‘erself ‘Da Silver Spooner’–” “Not ‘Da Silva’,” Button replied. “She didn’t look like she was from Mexicolt...” Tootsie told him to go do things adolescent colts do when they think nopony sees them. Not looking at Button anymore, she trotted to the room where the necklace was kept and kicked the door open. “Well, well, well,” she muttered, seeing two ponies standing in front of the necklace. “What are we doin’ ‘ere?” “That, like, not your business,” the blonde mare, Turf, replied. “Like, get out of here, little waiter before we get, like, angry.” “Totally,” Surf added. “Okay,” Tootsie lit her horn. “Like, I’m now gonna kick yer arses till dey, like, totally turn red like buses in Foaldon...” Button did the only sensible thing – he hid behind Tootsie, hoping that he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. “You know, there’s, like, two of us,” Surf said. “And we’re, like, twice as big as you are, runt...” “Oh, really?” Tootsie chuckled. “Look up.” Surf and Turf looked up, at the grating of air conditioning system. Or rather, a mass of vines and tubers that was in that place. They screamed, their eyes widening, at least until potatoes fell on their heads, rendering them unconscious. “Well, dat was anticlimactic,” Tootsie muttered. “Ya can stop hidin’ behind me, berk,” she said, staring at Button and sighing. The door bursted open. Several suit-wearing ponies stood in them, watching the scene with wide eyes. “Hey, look!” one of them shouted. “Those two were trying to steal the necklace!” “Ya figured dat out all by yerself?” Tootsie Flute whispered. “Those waiters stopped them!” Another pony pointed at Tootsie and Button. “They’re called Artful Dodger and Elisa Doolitle!” “Bugger me,” Tootsie muttered. “It’s like the very first issue of Power Ponies all over again...” Button sighed. “Yeah, they changed a bit over years... But I liked that issue.” He smirked. “Also, enjoy the moment. We saved the day.” “Should I bugger you right here?” Dinky lowered herself on the floor and patted Tootsie’s back with a vine. The sight caused one of the ponies to faint. “Stick it where da sun ain’t shine,” Tootsie muttered. “Also, Button, we? Aargh! Dinky, ya bloody moron! I ain’t mean it literally!” “I found who they were,” Button said. “Have you heard that?” one of the guests asked the others. “This filly found who they were!” Tootsie groaned and facehoofed.