The Trottingham Gutters

by meoaim

Chapter 2

Gentle snoring emanated from behind the closed door of Police Constable Rainbow Dash’s office. Inside, a pegasus snoozed. Her light blue coat and rainbow mane rendered her in striking contrast to the browns and whites of her surroundings. Her rear hooves were laid out on top of her wooden desk. She was leaning backwards in a chair that was situated precariously on it’s two back legs.

There was a sudden knock on the door.

Rainbow Dash opened her eyes with a short gasp and felt the pull of gravity tilt her backward. She crashed to the ground her arms flailing in a vain attempt to arrest her fall. Overdue forms and half-finished paperwork flew everywhere. The ground met her body and she let out a short yelp. The pain evaporated the haze of sleep. Someone was just outside her door. Displaying the talent that earned her her lightning bolt cutie mark Rainbow Dash shot to her feet.

“Just a minute!” she called out. She began to gather up the papers now splayed across her floor, cursing herself for falling asleep on the job... again.

She bent down to retrieve a district report from under her desk and heard a door knob turn.

“Uh, scuse’ me, Officer, is everything alright in here?” A concerned, freckled face of a mare poked through the door frame.

Rainbow Dash’s head shot up to address her office’s intruder but was stopped short by the bottom of her desk.

She yelped a second time. She moved her head out and gave the mare her best winning smile. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Just, uh, the, uh,” her words floundered for a moment. “Standard emergency office response drill!”

The mare gave Rainbow Dash a confused nod as she stepped through the door’s threshold. “I see,” she said slowly and carefully. “Looks like to me you responded pretty darn well.”

“Yeah, heh, gotta be ready for anything, anywhere, y’know?” She let out a small, forced chuckle.

“Ah’ can see that.”

A brief silence passed between the two.

“So,” Rainbow Dash began, “what can I do for you Miss...?”

“Right, where are my manners? The name’s Applejack.” She extended her hoof.

“Rainbow Dash.” She took the offered hoof and gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet ya, Miss Dash. The colt at the front told me you were the one I needed to talk to.”

“He did?” Dash gave her a look of disbelief. She’d only been on the force for a month, she didn’t understand why he would send this mare to her, specifically.

“Sure did,” Applejack continued, “said you’d be pleased as punch to hear me out. Ya see, I’m having a little problem with a criminal down in the marketplace.”

“Problem? Criminal?” Dash echoed, an unmistakable tone of excitement creeping into her voice.

“Exactly. See, I sell fresh fruit down there, at my stand. So I’m just trying to earn a living, hawking my wares. All of a sudden this stallion knocks down my stand while he was chasing a fi-”

“Say no more, Applejack!” Dash interrupted. She stamped her hoof on the ground. “They don’t call me Rainbow ‘Danger’ Dash for nothing! I’ll find this stallion and make him pay! I’ll hunt him down and tie him to a street pole! I’ll charge him with property damage and conspiracy to resist arrest!”

“What?” Applejack blinked at the now grinning constable, “No, I don’t want you to arrest the stallion. I don’t want anyone arrested. I’m talking about the-”

“This is going be so awesome! I bet there’ll be a huge chase and he’ll try and get away and I’ll just tackle him and say something snappy!”

“You’re not listening to me, Miss Dash. If you’d stop interrupting me I could tell you-”

“Something like, ‘Hey stand-smasher! Meet the crime-smasher!’ Yeah, that’ll show him!”

Applejack groaned and smacked a hoof onto her forehead.

“I’m just itching to get started! Tell me what the punk looks like and I’ll nab him in no time!” Rainbow sifted through the pile of papers scattered around her office and emerged with a pen in her mouth. She trotted over to her desk and grabbed a sheet from the top of one of the many piles on top of it. She looked expectantly at a now-glaring Applejack.

“Alright, Miss Dash.’ Applejack started to dictate. “Pegasus, messy orange coat, purple mane, fast as a whip, pretty scrawny, no cutie mark, about the height of my little sister.”

Rainbow Dash nodded after each item and added it to her list. Once her irked informant had finished she finally took in what she had written.

“What the heck kind of stallion is this?” she shouted after several moments, “This sounds more like some kind of kid!”

“I reckon that’s because it is, Miss Dash.” Applejack deadpanned.

“What? What are you trying to pull here? You want me to find your perp or not?”

“No! I mean yes, but the stallion isn’t who I’m talking about! I’m here about the little filly who stole from him! If you had just listened to me for ten seconds, instead of going off wherever it was you were going, you would know that by now!” Applejack’s voice steadily gained volume as she talked, by the time she reached her final words she could be heard throughout the police station.

There was a long silence.

“Oh...” Dash sheepishly replied. “gotcha.”

Applejack cheeks turned red as she realized just how loud she had gotten. “Listen, Miss Dash, I didn’t mean to shout like that. I’m just a bit ornery from all that’s happened today.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dash said. “I just got a little carried away, thinking I’d finally be able to do some real police work.”

“Whaddya mean?” Applejack asked.

“Real police work, chasing down crooks, running through the streets. Y’know, all the cool stuff. Not spending all my time,” she motioned to the carpet of forms around her, “filling out paperwork.”

“Not what you expected when you got here, huh?” Applejack said sympathetically.

“Not at all. I mean, I haven’t even been here very long, but this city is already leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Blech!” Dash said, punctuating her sentence with a retching noise.

“I know what you mean. Me and my kin came here after that parasprite infestation in Ponyville ruined our farm. It ain’t easy living here.”

Both mares looked at each other with a kind of sad, mutual understanding. Nothing felt quite right about this city, or about anything really. Neither could shake the feeling that their lives were meant to be different, somehow.

“So,” Dash said, shaking off the moment. “You’re looking for a filly?”

Applejack nodded. “That’s right. Near as I can tell, she made off with the purse of the stallion that knocked over my fruit. I can’t say I got much tolerance for ponies stealing from other ponies.”

“And you want me to arrest her? Stallions and mares, sure, but I don’t want to throw a kid in the slammer!”

“No. Like I said before I don’t want anyone arrested. Can’t you just find her, give her a stern talking to? Tell whoever’s looking after her what she’s been up to.”

Dash gave Applejack a blank look. “Tell... whoever is looking after her?” she repeated.

“Yep.” Applejack said. A moment later she noticed Dash’s lack of an expression. “Is something wrong Miss Dash?”

“Uh, Applejack, what makes you think that this filly has someone taking care of her?”

Applejack frowned. It struck her as a silly question. Of course she had someone looking after her. A child fending for herself would be just plain uncivilized.

“I’m not really understanding your meaning.” Applejack said. She must’ve misunderstood what Miss Dash was saying.

“If she’s stealing from ponies on the street,” Dash rolled her eyes and blithely continued, “it’s a pretty safe bet to say no one’s keeping track of her but herself.”

“What? How would you even know that?”

“I grew up in Cloudsdale. I’d see foals like that all the time. I mean, Trottingham is an earth pony city, but it can’t be that different.”

The small town mare looked completely dumbfounded. “There must be someone! What about her parents, her family, heck, ain’t the government supposed to step in when things get really bad?”

“I don’t know why it happens! It just does.” Dash’s words started tumbling out of her mouth. “Some ponies don’t have anybody, and it sucks, but that’s just how life works. You just have to do the best you can.”

Applejack didn’t reply straight away. Instead she stood, lost in her own thoughts. She had come here with the intention of seeing justice met, but now it seemed that it was a foreign concept in the city. All the customer’s she had met in her time here seemed like decent enough folk, but they must’ve all seen the filly. Did they know? Did they just walk on by with their lives, while there were ponies out there who had to steal to survive?

It was a lot to take in, a lot to think about.

One thing was certain though.

“Now I have to find her.” Applejack said resolutely.

“Huh?” Dash responded.

“I’m part of the Apple family, Miss Dash. An Apple doesn’t sit idly by when there’s a pony that needs help.” Applejack turned towards the door. “Thanks for the information, Miss Dash. I’ll get out of your way now.” Her hooves grabbed the doorknob.

“Hey, wait!” Dash called.

Applejack released her hold on the door. “Something the matter, Miss Dash?” she said.

“Two things: One, cool it with the ‘Miss Dash’ stuff. Just call me Rainbow. Two, just because you’re looking for a kid, doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

“I thought you were looking for some ‘real’ police work.” Applejack said.

“Hey, it’ll get me out of the office,” Dash countered. She gave a short shrug with her wings and added, “It’s not like I’ll be doing anything important here.”

“Your superiors would be fine with you helping me?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dash said, averting her eyes for a moment. “They’ll be fine with it because I’m... helping the community. Yeah! That’s what the police are all about.”

“Well shoot. In that case,” Applejack said, giving her companion a cheek-to-cheek grin, “it’d be a pleasure to have your assistance, Miss Da- uh, Rainbow.”

“Glad to help,” Rainbow said. She smoothly trotted in front of Applejack and pushed open the door. She walked down the hallway with Applejack following behind.

“Hey, Book-Em.” Rainbow said in greeting as they approached the front of the building, where a bored-looking colt was seated at a receptionist’s desk.

“Constable Dash,” he replied. He didn’t even look up from the copy of the Trottingham Times he was reading. He briefly wondered who the other pony she was with was, and why the newest pony on the force was leaving halfway through her shift. But it really wasn’t any of his business.

The two mares exited the building. As soon as they had left, Rainbow Dash looked to Applejack. “I know this place a little ways away, we’re going there first.”

“Really? Where are we going? Some type of investigative hotspot?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dash replied with a smirk. “It’s called ‘The Broken Stool’. It’s a pub I’ve been to a couple of times, perfect place to relax after work.”

“Relax? I thought you said you were gonna help me find a filly, Rainbow!” Applejack said, stopping in her tracks.

“And I am.” Dash said smoothly. She didn’t even pause her stride as she continued, “Think about it. There’s always tons of ponies there, one of them’s bound to have seen your blue maned-”

“It was purple.” Applejack corrected.

Dash rolled her eyes. “Right, purple maned filly. Listen, are you coming or not?”

Applejack sighed, but trotted after Rainbow. “It seems a little, well, unorthodox,” she mused, “ but you’re the constable after all.”

“Exactly,” Dash said. “And as an added bonus, we can always get ourselves a couple of drinks while we’re there!”

Applejack considered this. It had been a trying day after all. What with the hard day of sales and the uncomfortable revelations. And, contrary to what her brother kept telling her, she always did work better after a mug of cider.

“I reckon,” the former farm-pony said, “that that’s a mighty fine idea.”

--------------------------------------------------

The sun slowly made its way down towards the horizon. The towering buildings that made up Trottingham’s slum blocked most of the sun’s rays, ensuring that the lighting down below was always a perpetual gloom.

But Scootaloo didn’t mind the gloom, not anymore. The most important part was to act confident, like nothing could hurt you. Ponies thought twice about taking on a confident filly. It always made them think she knew something they didn’t. Head held high, Scootaloo purposefully walked through the debris-ridden roads. Trouble didn’t follow.

Eventually she arrived at her destination. In contrast to it’s neighbors, the squat building was only a single story in height. There was a sign situated atop it, painted with faded yellow letters, but Scootaloo had never been able to decipher it. A mural of smiling foals and older ponies with knowing smiles had been painted across the front, though it was defaced both by time and by misspelled graffiti. As near as Scootaloo could tell, it had been some kind of art studio. She had found the building one day, during her explorations, and had been living in it ever since.

Scootaloo stepped up towards the double doors and pushed them open into the building’s lobby. After a short trip through a hallway and another pair of doors, Scootaloo was finally home.

It was a large room, easily dominating half the building. The windows, which were situated near the top of the room’s high roof, didn’t let much light in, but it was enough to navigate by. Rows and rows of tattered chairs were laid out in a repeating semi-circle pattern, which wrapped around a raised, wooden stage. The humid atmosphere gave the entire chamber the thick smell of mold; though it had stopped bothering Scootaloo a long time ago.

The stage itself had been empty when she had arrived, but now nearly all her belongings were piled atop it. A pile of rags and stolen cloth were piled up against the back wall of the stage. On the left, next to a makeshift bed, was a broken fragment of a mirror, a fired clay cup, and what appeared to be two-thirds of a stuffed, plush bear. Farther off to the right was a chipped kitchen knife, useful for when her mane got too unruly and when the rats were a little too curious. Some smooshed-together remains of old candles lay on the top of an empty tin in the stage’s center. Though until she found some more matchsticks it wouldn’t do her any good. An old pail was stationed in the back of the stage below a dripping pipe. Droplets of water that had once been slowly soaking through the floorboards were now used for both drinking and bathing.

Personally, Scootaloo felt she had done pretty well for herself. She had found all the items by scavenging wherever she could. If her sister was still here she would’ve been so proud at Scootaloo’s resourcefulness.

Not that she needed her sister’s approval. Or her presence, for that matter. In fact, she didn’t even care at all that her sister had left.

That she had just disappeared one day.

Disappeared without a word goodbye.

Disappeared and left her all alone.

Scootaloo shook her head. Thoughts like that weren’t going to do her any good. Besides, there were much better things to think about.

She trotted over to the stage and hopped onto it in one, short motion. She made her way over to the bed and sat her haunches down on the slightly scratchy fabric. She gave a small frown to the area in front of her and swept away the dust with her hoof. A proper area cleared, she reverentially placed her most recent acquisition onto the ground and once again undid the strings of the bag.

Metallic glittering greeted her once again. Scootaloo exhaled slowly, letting out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. Part of her feared that the coins might have disappeared since the first time she saw them. It was silly of course. She had felt their heft all the way here, but it was reassuring to see them all the same.

She reached into the bag and stirred the coins around. She had never had so much money at one time before; it was always too risky to hang onto it for too long. Maybe this time she shouldn’t spend it all on just food. As tempting as cakes and fresh vegetables were, maybe she should get something a little more permanent. Something that would improve upon her life. Not that it needed improvement, naturally.

She had seen something matching that fit that criteria just a couple of days ago, sitting in the window of a pawn shop. She didn’t know why, but it had spoken to her. Well, not actually spoken to her, but she didn’t know how else to describe it. She had wanted it, right then and there, but she knew the shopkeeper had eyes like a hawk, and the windows were reinforced with those thin metal bars. She had reluctantly moved on then, but now that she had the money, why not?

She didn’t want to get too hopeful though. She had to make sure she had enough to buy it first. The coins were removed from the bag in sets of five, and piled up in front of Scootaloo like little towers. About halfway through her counting her hoof reached into the bag and connected with something much softer than a coin. She cocked her head to the side and lifted out a small rectangle. It looked like a book, or a pamphlet, colored the same deep brown as the bag. She set it off to the side and continued taking out the remainder of the coins. Once the container was finally empty, she added up the piles and found, to her elation, that there was more than enough.

She scooped the coins back into the bag and turned her attention back to the other object she had found in the bag. She picked up the book. It was no bigger than her hoof and it had an unfamiliar texture to it. Which wasn’t that surprising considering Scootaloo didn’t have much experience with books. That too wasn’t surprising, considering she had never learned how to interpret the little squiggles other ponies drew.

Scootaloo regarded the blank cover with unimpressed eyes. She opened it up and flipped through the yellowed pages. It was always the same page after page: On the left there was a bunch of totally incomprehensible scrawlings, and on the right a bunch of neat little boxes filled with numbers, equally indecipherable. Shrugging, she tossed the still-open book behind her. It made a dull, sliding sound as it hit the stage behind her. The stallion she took this from must have been one really boring pony; his stupid book didn’t even have any pictures. Maybe it would come in handy if she ever needed to wipe something up or needed to stuff a crack in the wall.

She checked the bag once more. Reassured once more that all the bits were well and truly there Scootaloo cinched the bag up tightly.

She considered her time frame. It had been a long journey home. If she went to the pawn shop right now, she would be headed back home in the darkness. Part of her was aware of how dangerous it was travelling blindly through the streets of The Stacks - muggers couldn’t see a confident stride in the darkness.

Another, much larger part of her knew that she could get out of any trouble she found herself in. It also suggested, quite reasonably in the filly’s opinion, that she didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the day. Was she just going to let her time go to waste?

Still, it seemed a little bit risky. Irresponsible even.

She eyed the closed bag. Outlines of coins were bulging against the container’s material.

Maybe it was even more irresponsible to hold onto these bits for any longer than necessary. They could be lost or stolen at any moment. What was it her sister had said? They can’t take what you don’t have. The context of the phrase was a little different, but the words rang true.

Scootaloo scooped up the bag and hopped off the stage. Despite the assurances she had given herself, she felt a pit grow in her stomach as she stepped out of the building. She shook off the feeling of foreboding, as she made her way through crisscrossing alleyways towards her destination.

Her sister’s advice had never steered her wrong.

Comments

[Darkstar195]

*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
Very good story. Two mustaches para tu. (That means for you in Spanish, in case you didn't know. At least, I think.)

[StarRibbon]

I wonder WHO her sister is..maybe one of the mane 6 perhaps? Not RD and AJ obviously here, but someone without siblings like that?

[Fluttershyisacutegal]

hmmm....