The Sharpest Tool

by Samey90

Fade to Black

The door to the library opened suddenly, and a white, female Royal Guard came in.

“Hello Spike,” she said, seeing the dragon carrying several books, “Is Twilight here?”

“Oh, hi Hot Pursuit! Twi is in the basement, doing some experiments,” he replied, “She said that she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“It’s important,” said Hot Pursuit, trying not to think what kind of experiments Twilight conducts. She seemed ok, but during her career Hot Pursuit met too many ponies, who seemed ok, and ended up in prison, “May I come in?”

“Yeah, but tell her that you had to make me let you in, or she’ll be mad.”

“Ok. Protect and serve, that’s my motto,” she smiled at him and trotted to the basement.

The underground room was dark and cold, Hot Pursuit almost bumped into a box full of test tubes and decided to tread carefully.

“Twilight? Are you here?”

“Hot Pursuit? What are you doing here?” she heard the voice of an unicorn from the distance.

“Surveillance sent me to bring you to the station at all costs.”

“Again? Wait a minute, I’ll make it a bit lighter.”

Few light bulbs lit, and Hot Pursuit saw a weirdest laboratory she’d ever been to. In the middle of the room stood an operating table with four straps, one for each leg. Next to it stood a big machine, which was vibrating slightly, occasionally giving strange noises. By the walls was a fridge and few shelves. Hot Pursuit saw some laboratory glass on them, next to the something that looked like an unfinished replica of Ponyville, a pony’s skull and a jar filled with formaldehyde. The guard watched it for some time.

“Is it a dead foal inside?” she asked in a bit panicked tone.

“I think so,” Twilight replied absent-mindedly, “Most of the equipment was here before I came to Ponyville, I guess one of the previous librarians was interested in pathomorphology.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he owned a freak-show,” Hot Pursuit commented, “How’s the experiment?”

“Not good. It seems that to conduct it I’ll have to dig a round tunnel with circumference of about seventeen miles, and Rarity forbids me to dig through the Carousel Boutique’s basement,” she levitated the blueprints, and drew something on them with a pencil, “So, what brings you here?”

“The Toolsmith killed Cloud Counter in Detrot,” said Hot Pursuit.

The blueprints fell off of Twilight’s magic field.

“Wh… what?”

“She shot him tonight. Surveillance is going to fly there, and wants you to come with him.”

“I can’t go there! You know that I’m not a detective anymore.”

“You helped us a week ago…” Hot Pursuit said, staring at the unicorn unsurely.

“ I confused a patient with a nurse… Not very helpful, if you ask me.”

“Yes, but still you’re the one who knows the Toolsmith the best. I’ve read the paper you wrote about her.”

“Who didn’t?”

“Short Shock,” Hot Pursuit laughed, “You know, he and his brother are like those two Royal Guards from that joke: they always walk together, because one of them can write, and the other one can read.”

“Oh, don’t be cruel for them,” Twilight smiled weakly, “I’ve heard that even Surveillance says they improved. And Cheerilee told me that Sharp teaches foals the first aid…”

“For somepony, who is not a detective, you know many things about the Royal Guards. Are you sure you don’t want to help us?” Hot Pursuit asked. Twilight opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say “no”, but after a while closed it before finally saying:

“Fine. I’ll go with Surveillance.”

***

“Dad, you promised!” an orange filly said.

“I don’t know… You’ve heard about this guy who was killed there…” a pegasus stallion muttered. His coat was orange, just like his daughter’s, but his mane was short and black.

“Dad, I’m sixteen! And Rainbow Dash will be with me all the time.”

“Well…”

“Good morning, mister…” a cyan mare hesitated. Although she knew his daughter since she was a little filly, she still had no idea what his name was.

“Vindaloo” he introduced himself.

“So, Mr Vindaloo, I’ve heard what you were saying, and I assure you that Scoots will be perfectly safe with me,” Rainbow Dash said, “By the way, you’re going to fly us to Detrot?”

“Yes,” he nodded his head, “But I’ll be going back at the same day, and I’m afraid to leave her in the town where Toolsmith runs free…”

“Don’t worry, I bet she doesn’t have ticket for DJ P0N3’s concert,” Rainbow Dash said, “Besides, I’ve met her once…” she leaned to him and whispered “…and beat the crap out of her.”

“Oh… If you say so…” he said, puzzled, “I have to meet the crew before we depart. Just wait here till you’ll be boarded.” He went through the airport’s hall and disappeared behind the pilot’s office door.

“So, this is your dad? Cool guy,” Rainbow Dash said. Scootaloo nodded.

“Yeah, but he still treats me like an eight-year old. I can fly now, I have a cutie mark, but he and mom…”

“Squirt, that’s what parents do. For example, my mother…” suddenly Rainbow Dash saw a familiar silhouette of a lavender unicorn in the crowd of ponies.

“Hey, Twilight! Over here!”

“Rainbow Dash! What are you doing here?”

“A birthday gift for Scootaloo - we’re flying for a concert to Detrot. How about… oh, I see,” Dash said, seeing a guard, who was struggling to find the way through the crowd.

“Good morning, Rainbow Dash,” he said coldly, “Congratulations on becoming a Wonderbolt,” his facial expression didn’t changed a bit.

“Surveillance,” a memories of the storm three years ago caused Rainbow’s smile to fade, “How are you, officer?”

“A serial killer managed to ran away to Detrot and kill another guy. Try to guess, Ms Dash.”

“Oh… nevermind,” said Rainbow Dash. She remained silent until they went outside the airport hall and saw the flying chariot they were supposed to travel with.

Twilight called it a “chariot” mainly because it had wheels, but this was the only similarity. A large, wooden fuselage was connected with a grey, cigar-shaped balloon. On each corner of the fuselage was a harness for one pony.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Scootaloo’s father, who suddenly appeared near them, said, “The balloon makes the whole construction lighter, so it requires only four pegasi to carry even thirty passengers at once!”

“Awesome!” Scootaloo exclaimed. Rainbow Dash examined the airship.

“How fast is it?” she asked.

“Well, it’s not the supersonic speed, but I assure you, we’ll be in Detrot in no time,” Vindaloo said.

They went aboard. Surveillance checked the interior and leaned to Twilight:

“Did they ever think about using it in military?”

“Well, griffons used something similar as bombers, but their airships were not very agile and thus easy to shot down. Not to mention that the balloon is filled with hydrogen.”

“Great…” he said and took his seat. To his dismay, he found out that Rainbow Dash was his neighbour.

“Survey,” she said, “I always wondered why most of the Royal Guards are white. There’s some kind of selection, or you just use bleach?”

“Colour-change spell,” he explained, and closed his eyes, hoping that she’d let him sleep.

“Not very stealthy, if you ask me, Survey,” she giggled.

“We can change to camo if it’s needed. And don’t call me Survey.”

“Ok, Survey.”

He groaned and turned to Scootaloo.

“You’d probably want to sit near your friend, wouldn’t you?” he asked, smiling creepily.

“Sure, no problem…” Scootaloo said, and whispered, “…Survey.”

He pretended not to hear that and swapped the places with a filly.

“Mother of Luna,” he said to Twilight, “Are your friends always like that?”

“Sometimes,” she smiled, “Have you ever met Pinkie Pie?”

“I think I’ve arrested her once…” a memory of a pink monstrosity haunted him, “Or, at least, I tried.”

“Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts,” they heard Vindaloo’s voice, “We’re going to take off. We want to remind our passengers that flying out of the windows and teleportation aboard are strictly forbidden, unless there’s a life-threatening situation.”

“Why can’t we fly?” Scootaloo asked.

“It can change the balance of this airship, I think,” Rainbow Dash explained, “I tried to fly with cargo once, really, mass distribution can be a real bi…” she managed to pause in time. Although she was doing her best to avoid using foul language in Scootaloo’s presence, it was way too late – the filly was learning quickly, and she already managed to teach Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle words that caused Rarity to faint, and Applejack to shake her head with a mixture of fury and admiration.

***

Vinyl Scratch was dreaming about a hot shower and a bed, but, unfortunately the only thing she could get was a cup of foul-tasting coffee provided by Freebass. Stallion explained to her that his bosses want her to attend the Equestrian Anti-Drug Foundation’s press conference.

“I guess I’m their new mascot?” she asked.

“Exactly. Don’t worry, it’ll be easy, just smile, don’t drink, don’t say anything controversial and don’t take any "medicines" before the conference. How are your eyes, by the way?”

“Great,” she put her sunglasses on, trying to get into her stage persona before entering the press room.

“Take care,” Freebass said.

The press room was full of ponies. She knew most of them: after spending so many years in show-business, she’d been interviewed by probably every musical reporter in Equestria.

She hated all of them.

“Vinyl,” said the pink mare from MTV Equestria. Vinyl couldn’t remember since when they were calling each other by name, “So far you weren’t known for taking part in many charity actions. What made you support EADF?”

A hundred thousand of reasons Vinyl thought.

“Well,” she said, “When you’re twenty-seven, ya suddenly feel that you’re not a filly anymore. It’s like, ya want to make somethin’ for the future generations…”

She could almost see Octavia sitting in front of the TV, choking on laughter. Enough of this Miss of Equestria talking, time for an autobiography.

“When I was a kid I met many junkies, so helping ponies who have a problem with drugs was my first choice.”

Their main problems were “who ate all my mushrooms?” and “why’s Vinyl lyin’ in da corner, drooling?”, but Freebass told me not to be controversial.

“Ms Scratch,” a brown stallion from Young Colts Celestial Association stood up. Vinyl remembered him: he had interviewed Octavia and her once, was absolutely oblivious to sarcasm, and was asking stupid questions: for example, he asked Vinyl if it was true that she was a good swimmer.

“Oh yeah, my father taught me to swim the hard way: he pushed me to the river.”

“Wasn’t that too hard for a filly?” he asked.

“No. The hardest part was to get out from that sack full of bricks.”

The memory of his shocked face caused her to zone out.

“Excuse me, could you repeat your question?”

“I wanted to know, how do you like Detrot?”

“Well, the citizens are very friendly,” she said, Especially that guy who mugged me, “And I really like its unique, industrial architecture.”

She ran out of comments, so she took a sip from a glass of water on the desk in front of her.

“Will ya collaborate with local DJs on yer next album?” a reporter from Playmare, whom Vinyl knew only because of his distinctive accent asked. She took a deep breath and started to think if she knew any DJ from Detrot, when suddenly she heard:

Hello, Vinyl. Remember me?

“Ms Scratch?”

Smile bitch. And answer that question as if I wasn’t in your empty head. Don’t even try to fight. I had a lot of time to improve the recipe…

Author's Note:

A bit of autobiography: the pathomorphology departament in my university actually keeps a baby preserved in a jar of formaldehyde on display. A bit jarring, excuse the pun. On the other hand, forensic medicine department has a mummified head of Nazi soldier who commited suicide in 1945. They keep it in a cardboard box...
And, in case you wondered, Twilight wants to build a Large Hadron Collider.

Comments

[Rainbow87dash]

“Vindaloo” he introduced himself.

He must have really bad digestive problems