• Published 26th Mar 2015
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Interviewing Mr. Disc - CrackedInkWell



The art teacher, Mr. Disc is called in to be interviewed by a CIA agent over the disappearance of a missing student at Canterlot High.

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1: Interrogation and Small Talk

Author's Note:

Technically, I'm writing another story to this one, and I've promised myself that I would wait until the other story has been finished, but inspiration has came to me and the result was this...

“Take a seat please,” she said politely. Normally I would have complied happily, especially at this time of year. Summer vacation was just about a month away after all, and I was planning to spend my creative time in childhood land of innocence and nonsense called Equestria. And normally I wouldn't mind being interviewed by anyone, even when they took me to a darkened warehouse where the only thing I could see is a table, a couple of chairs and a lamp that hung there like a yo-yo; like right now for instance.

But sadly that has been soured quite a bit recently. Ya see, the lady in white that I’m being interviewed, like how my bosses would call in students into their offices, is calling me in because I've gotten into some trouble. Oh don’t look at me like that; I didn't start it, really. I just happened to get involved in it.

“How long is this going to take?” I asked sitting down in one of the chairs.

“That depends on how willing you are to work with me.” She replied as she took the seat in across the table from me. “The sooner you answer all of my questions, the sooner that you’ll be on your way.”

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. “And you know, come to think of it… I've think I've seen you more often lately.”

“Well, this town is part of my care to look after,” the redhead said, “Considering all the recent events such as the sirens, Ms. Shimmer, and the transfer student by the name of Twilight Sparkle.”

“Ah, the nutcase then,” I nodded. “You know, a part of a few teachers and maybe one or two of my bosses (if either of them had any time), I hardly have anyone to talk to about her.”

“What about the other students?” she asked.

“Like who?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” she opened up her little black book, “Students such as Applejack, or Pinkie Pie, or Rarity, or Rainbow Dash, or Fluttershy, or perhaps from Sunset Shimmer.”

“Looks like somebody has done their homework,” I commented, giving her an amused half-smile.

“It’s what I do, so have you tried talking to them about Sparkle, before her disappearance?”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s all about then huh? Sparkle is gone?” she nodded, “Since when does the CIA get involved with a student’s disappearance?”

“From the day you were able to perform unbelievable magic tricks that would leave even the most sophisticated magician stumped. And considering the fact that on record, you were the last to have seen her.”

I looked around the black, empty space of the warehouse, “Isn't there supposed to be some recorder to… Oh, I don’t know, record all this?”

“This interview is being recorded Mr. Disc,” she replied. “If it helps any, there’s a couple of microphones that are hanging somewhere over our heads. Oh and don’t try to think of cutting them off or do anything stupid.”

“What makes you think I wouldn't?” I questioned her, lifting my right hand up, showing her that I was ready to snap them.

“I think I would take a look at your hand if I were you,” she said. Confused, I looked to find my hand was covered in red polka-dots that were made of light.

I turned back to glare at her, “Oh that’s just playing dirty.”

“You think so? Well, when we’re dealing with a being such as yourself, we, of course, have to take a few precautions to make sure things don’t go out of hand.” She gave me an innocent smile before reaching into her white suit pocket to pull out a plastic-wrapped peppermint, “Want one?”

I shook my head, “I guess let’s get this over with.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged as she put the hard candy back. “Now then, down to some of the basic questions first. Your name is Julius Author Disc right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you currently live on 1314 Pony Hill Road?”

“Yeah.”

“Also, you are still currently a teacher at Canterlot High?”

“An art teacher, which I’ll have you know I’m very good at it.”

“So I've heard. I had seen a few paintings you've done in the past.”

“Oh?”

“I've seen some of your paintings you sell online, as well as your masterpiece at Sugar Cube Corner.” I've nodded, even when there’s an unknown amount of snipers in the same titanic room, it’s good to know that someone speaks highly of my art. “But is the high school aware of your powers?”

I chuckled, “As of now, it’s pretty much a worst kept secret. I mean, Cel eventually found out from my students who were taking my class. She seems to know more about all the weird stuff that’s been happening lately. No, I know she knows because she didn't even flinch when I popped a crown on her head as a joke. She said that as long as my superpowers are used for ‘educational purposes’ and that nothing gets too out of hand, I’ll be fine.”

She nodded, “Alright, has the school taking this well?”

“Actually, things had been going great since I've figured out how to use my powers,” I grinned, I whistled in existence for a glass of expensive Italian red soda. “It makes things so much easier you see. Grading papers are done in a snap, props appear at a whistle, and could create my art in an instant.”

“Do these powers affect your mental state? I mean, you do suffer from hallucinations and all.”

I pulled out my bottle of pills and placed them on the table. “These pills do tend to help. If I wasn't taking them, I don’t know if I would be able to tell the difference between my illusions and my instant creativity. And before you ask, the answer is yes, I have taken it before I got here.”

“That’s good,” she smiled.

“Oh, and before we go any further,” I said leaning to her, “What did you say your name was again?”

“Agent F.”

“No, I mean your actual name. Calling you F seems rather distant if you ask me like I’m talking to a letter of the alphabet then a person.”

“Very well, it’s Faust.”

“Much better,” I reached a hand over to her to shake her; she looked at it for a moment before shaking it. “So Faust, you were saying about the missing student?”