Slow Fade

by Bluegrass Brooke

The Counterweight

Milo Coltfax, ace prosecuting attorney and chief of cowards sat in the claustrophobic closet praying for a miracle. Hundreds of data points, files, clippings—the internal machinations of a genius. The pattern long lost in the intricate web Rory had woven. Milo groaned, checking the yellowing clock resting against one of the folders. Nine o’clock. The only indication that night had long fled. If they did not get something by two . . .

He shook his head, levitating yet another notebook. Numbers. All numbers. How in the hell was that supposed to be helpful?

“Sorry,” a soft voice in his ear startled him for the briefest of instants before he registered its owner.

“It’s alright, Pinkie. I very much doubt you’d be able to wade through all this.”

Pinkie nodded slowly, contemplatively. “Find anything?”

“Hardly.” Milo loathed to admit it, but his son had long since surpassed his modest intelligence. “I can’t read it.”

“Huh? Is it in another language or something?”

“No-no,” he choked, pawing at the folders littering the floorboards, “I need the key.”

“Key?” Pinkie gave a hollow chuckle. “Well, it’s just paper, Milo.”

“No, it’s a code, Pinkie! If we don’t crack it then-then it’s all over.” I’ll have failed him again.

Pinkie lay down across from him, scooping up the notebook of numbers.

What are you doing? Reluctantly, he grabbed a notebook full of names and isolated sentences with no connection to the others. Maybe a miracle would occur and he’d be able to use some of it.

They had only been reading for about ten minutes when Pinkie gasped loudly. “That’s it! I figured it out, Milo.”

Doubtful. Still, he levitated her number book closer. “Really?”

“Yup! We use this code all the time as secretaries. Well, as the Boss’ secretaries. Dunno about others. Every one of Mr. Scribe’s acquaintances has a number. He made a code for us to give to him whenever something came up. And I’d have to record the code.”

“Hmmm?” It made sense Rory would be cautious, but this? It seemed a little extreme. He pointed to a line so Pinkie could see it.

‘12-1-20.0’

“What’s this mean then?”

“L.A. That’s Long Arm he’s a cop. 20.0 hmmm . . . Twenty means that he got some unauthorized money from the company and the point zero means he’s not a threat anymore.”

“Really?”

“Mmmhmm. The Boss is always making me write down stuff like that. Says he doesn’t want anypony to understand our system. Even if they can figure out the initials, they won’t figure out the next numbers.”

Hope sparked anew in Milo’s chest. “Pinkie, I need you to write out all of what this says while I take a second look at these journals. There’s likely a correlation between the two.”

“Er . . . okay.” Pinkie grabbed a pen and began to write furiously into the notebook.

Milo chuckled to himself. Almost as fast as Quill. Maybe they could scrape something together by two after all.

---

For once in her life, Quill felt entirely drained of alternatives. Nothing her sleep-deprived mind conjured up had yielded results. At best, they were ultimatums at worst . . . She shook her head, trying to clear out the fog. Her eyes tracked the symbol on the chipped door. Storm’s love note.

Nopony in Manehatten would be stupid enough to mess with a pony whose door had that on it. It meant quite clearly that anypony caught so much as stopping in for a social call would be on Storm’s black list. And nopony anywhere wanted that looming over their family and friends.

Reluctantly, she pushed it open, entering the near pitch black room. A faint light from a closet revealed where they had wandered to. “Milo?”

Milo’s head poked around the doorframe, greying mane sticking up at so many angles it might have been in the modern art exhibit. “Quill,” he grated, voice obviously strained from hours of muttering to himself.

Celestia he never changes. Quill strode cautiously over to him, eying the conglomeration of papers, files, maps, photographs, and news clippings peppering the floor of the closet. Spotting a pink spot in the midst of the chaos, she nodded. “Pinkie.”

Pinkie did not look up, eyes set in a determined expression even she could be proud of. The girl needed to focus. Instead, she turned to Milo, keeping her voice low, “Well? Any leads?”

Milo gave a wicked, confident grin she had not seen him don in months. It melted away the anxiety in an instant.

Quill only smiled. “Will it be ready in time?”

“Depends,” Milo murmured, smile shattering in an instant.

“On what?”

A long, drawn out silence followed her words. Finally, Milo choked out a single word, “Her.”

Quill felt her temper boil up into a tempest. “What does that bitch have anything to do with it?”

“Sadly, everything . . .” Milo sighed, getting weakly to his hooves. His gaze flickered towards Pinkie and the papers. “It’ll take some time to go through this. More than we’ve got. We need something to . . . well, start us off.”

“Oh, Milo . . . What makes you think she’ll testify to anything?”

“He’s her son.”

Quill stamped her hoof hard, sending up a cloud of dust from the aged floorboards. “And we’ve all seen how she treats her child! Honestly, Milo! She could care less about that boy. In fact, she’s probably pleased he’ll be locked up.”

“She isn’t happy at all, Quill! Dammit, she’s never been happy with Storm Scribe. Can’t you see?” Milo rubbed his hoof against his temple. “She’s nothing more than a songbird in a gilded cage . . . She loathes Storm. Storm’s abused her and—and . . . I should have taken her away. Forced her to leave with me and Rory . . .”

“It’s in the past, Milo,” Quill soothed, resting a hoof across his withers. “Still, you think that her hatred of Storm is enough to overcome her fear of him? He’s a madpony! He’ll kill her if we slip up.” Not that I care, but you will . . .

“We won’t slip up, Quill. Not this time. We’ve got the evidence! Combined with Starlight’s testimony, why, it’s irrefutable.”

Quill snorted. “And I suppose we’ll skip over those tiny details about Rory’s abuse then?”

Milo grimaced, looking down. “That’s up to him to decide. It’s . . . you’ve seen how personal it is for him. After this is over and I get him to a hospital then, then we’ll see . . .”

“It’s always later with you!” Still, she had to admit, it would be best not to bring up the abuse until after the mess with the blackmail had been sorted out.

Milo started towards the door. “Stay with Pinkie. Make sure you’re both there for the trial at two. I’ll need your support.”

“And where—” She did not need to say anything else, his eyes said it all too clearly. “Be careful.”

Milo gave one slow nod then strode out the door. Quill stood rooted to the spot, allowing the implications of their conversation to take hold. Finally they had a chance, but its success hinged on the one pony in Equestria neither of them wanted anything to do with. And how would Rory feel knowing the mare who hated him would testify to save him? If she testified . . .

Pinkie’s hoofsteps behind her made her start. She looked towards the door, then into her eyes. “He’s gone to get her then?”

“Mmhmm.”

“She’ll buy us some time?”

“That’s . . . that’s the hope.” Then realization struck her like a punch to the gut. They had been discussing Milo’s greatest secret right in front of Pinkie. Curse my tongue! “Pinkie, about Starlight and Milo—”

“It’s okay, Quill. Milo told me last night.” The words came stiff, as if she had resolved to say nothing further on the matter. “Let’s just . . . let’s just get to work, okay?”

Quill could only nod. Please, Milo. Please convince her!

Author's Note:

Soooo sorry for not updating sooner! I had a severe depressive streak and didn't feel like doing much of anything.

I posted this without a grammar check and at midnight, so feel free to point out any grammar errors. I'm sure there's plenty.

Still, I hope you enjoyed it! More will come. Just got to get motivated.

Comments

[Wolven5]

MORE!!

[SageBrony07]

Wow. This is going to be intense.

[The Forgotten Comrade]

Oh yes! This is going to be fun.

[Goldfinch142]

“L.A. That’s Long Arm he’s a cop. 20.0 hmmm . . .

Comma after 'Arm' and after '20.0.'

At best, they were ultimatums at worst . . .

Comma after 'ultimatums.'

Celestia he never changes.

Comma after 'Celestia.'

Yes! They have a chance! For the love of Celestia, Starlight, testify! If not for yourself, then for your son!

And don't worry about the wait. Update whenever you feel up to it. The story's not going anywhere. Until then, I'll be on the edge of my seat.

[Princess rosa]

My thoughts on storm scribe: you're joking, you're joking. I can't believe my eyes, you're joking me, you gotta be. This can't be the right guy. He's ancient, he's ugly. I don't know which is worse. I just might split a seam now if I don't die laughing first. I'm sorry bluegrass, I just had to .

[Cassafrass]

This is amazing! Keep up the amaing work
its dark and feels as realistic as pastel horses could get
XD
I really wanna see more :D

[Summer Dancer]

Oh goodness, I was gone away when you updated. I love it!