Conversation 14: Rainbow Dash
Office of Special Investigations of Their Highnesses Civil Service consisted of Grey Matter and his fifty agents, more properly called clerical personnel, who would instead prefer to call their establishment, alternatively, “Celestia’s Intervention Agency,” or “fifty shades of Grey,” depending on how charitable they were feeling about the whole endeavor this evening, and whether Princess Luna was anywhere in the vicinity.
The Office oversaw a constantly changing, almost boiling alphabet soup of diverse organizations of the clandestine variety. Nopony could quite tell how many, because they were created, disbanded and rearranged every few months, in the belief that, as long as ponies themselves don’t know what they’re doing, their purely hypothetical enemies don’t know either, and that is a mark of unrivaled success in the intelligence business.
This resulted in the agents of those clandestine organizations the OSI was supposed to be managing having no clue what their outfit is called this week or whether it even still exists, nor what their codename is, which, some believed, was a forbidden practical application of the poorly studied chaos magic. The only pony who ever claimed to understand what’s going on was Grey Matter himself, and many of his detractors would openly accuse him of lying, to which he would just twirl his tiny mustache with a hoof and remain silent in an expression of ultimate intellectual bliss.
This was exactly the expression that met Donut Joe that morning at the secret HQ – this time, located a few floors beneath one of Canterlot’s largest department stores. The entrance was disguised as a fitting room, but was actually an elevator, with a quirky magical code lock, that would only open when a pony made several very particular poses before the mirror, accompanied by no less particular facial expressions, and wearing evening dress, entirely unsuitable for silly actions like balancing on the front legs.
For Donut Joe, this had to be a tuxedo, because whoever made the lock was a stickler, and decided that a tie with a collar is not enough evening dress for a stallion. Joe looked very dapper in a tuxedo, of course, but that was hardly an excuse to buy a third one this month alone – one of the mirror poses involved flexing muscles, which, for Joe, inevitably meant he couldn’t return the tuxedo anymore.
“Ah, hello there, double-glaze-Joe,” Grey Matter greeted him. He was a unicorn of small stature, and his immaculately trimmed and lacquered mane and tail, exactly as gray as his coat, not to mention his incredibly neat suit, made Joe look even bigger and messier than he actually was, tuxedo or no. “Please sit down.”
“Before I do, sir,” Joe interrupted him, tugging at the collar of the tuxedo, “Will I be compensated for this tuxedo? It’s kind of eating into my bottom line, and I have my cover business to run.”
“Don’t worry, Joe,” his boss’ boss’ boss’ replied… well, just boss, because only Grey Matter really knew how many of those ponies in between them actually existed. “Sit down. I have a very important mission for you…”
Joe obediently sat down in the comfy chair he was offered, as Grey Matter turned the lights off. A projector lit the room.
“Oh sweet Celestia!” Joe exclaimed, as he finally understood what the messy collection of lines and curves was.
“Indeed, my boy,” Grey Matter agreed, “well said!”
“Can this even be built?” Joe asked, studying the blueprint on the screen. “I mean, not only this design is dangerously unstable, that’s fine. It only needs to stay up for a few hours, and after that, it’s all over. But marzipan, mascarpone and meringue? And what’s that, is it… cherries? Oh my donuts, it is a whole cherry taste amplification ring, isn’t it?”
“Our sources say it will be built,” Grey Matter said, swapping the slide with his magic, “They have been testing the components for months. The results, as you can see, were… I believe, you youngsters would call it a complete knock-out.” The slide depicted three mares – Rose, Lily and Daisy, the Ponyville flower girls – spread out on the floor of Sugarcube Corner with expressions of otherworldly bliss on their faces, completely out of their flowery minds.
“So what’s the plan, sir?” Joe inquired, looking at Grey Matter’s mustache glistening in the darkness. Somehow, the offending piece of black facial hair served as an anchor for the elderly unicorn’s entire face, sucking in attention from all other features. “Surely we can’t allow that!”
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, Joe,” Grey said, “Is to ensure, that until the National Dessert Competition starts, nopony but Their Highnesses even gets a whiff of this cake.”
Joe jumped up, eyebrows raised. “I beg your pardon?!”
“Her Daylight Highness’ explicit orders,” Grey Matter said, pressing a hoof to Joe’s chest. “I didn’t ask for them to be explained, and neither should you.”
Joe didn’t have much to say to that.
✶ ✶ ✶
“You don’t make that kind of accusation without evidence, Pinkie,” Twilight interrupted her. “And I’ve met Grey Matter, he’s not a spymaster, OSI does accounting!”
For what it’s worth, Pinkie is a very vivid storyteller. Even on a good day, I could never beat a tall tale like that. Which I’m okay with, most of the time, cause if I’m awesome enough, there will always be somepony else to tell my story, I can leave that to the experts. But I can’t help but envy her anyway.
“Ah, but that is the perfect cover for a spymaster, my lowly assistant!” Pinkie insisted, and resumed her story.
✶ ✶ ✶
The insertion went smoothly. Nopony wondered why did Joe bring his donuts to Ponyville, instead of just making a quick trip for the super-sprinkes. For Joe himself, this was merely a convenient excuse to get on the dessert car with everypony else. He was sure of his donuts, and they didn’t need any stupid super-sprinkles to be perfect, anyway.
The laser grid alarm was in place, the bakers and the hangers-on were asleep in their compartments, and only Pinkie was pacing by the cake, guarding it in the fully justified assumption that somepony will come by to eat it. Eventually. Probably, when Pinkie is asleep. So Pinkie must never fall asleep, oh no. She must maintain vigilance!
It almost looked like Joe’s mission would be a total success without him having to do anything, but as he took another glance through his hastily installed security hole, disguised as an eye of a portrait on the wall – who is that stallion supposed to be anyway? – he was surprised to see Pinkie spread out on the carpet, with a faintly smoking shell of a sleep grenade lying on the floor next to her.
He rushed out of his compartment, and did not even notice the thin piano wire that wrapped itself around his neck. And pulled. Upwards. The only thought that came into Joe’s mind as he was about to lose consciousness was that his cover is now probably irrevocably blown, and he will finally have to bite his donuts goodbye.
A bolt of kinetic magic shot straight from the horn into the darkness resulted in the wire relaxing, and soon, Joe managed to throw whoever it was off his back and into the open. The formless blob of dark cloth resolved into a griffon in a cloak – one that Joe knew well.
“Gustave,” Joe growled, trying to catch his breath. “Or should I say, The Claw. I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been what, three years? Seaddle, wasn’t it.”
“Just two,” the griffon screeched back, brandishing a sword and flaring his wings out. “You’re getting sloppy in your old age, Joe.”
“I’m thirty seven,” Joe tossed back, accompanying his words with an uppercut that threw Gustave’s beak skywards and got it embedded in the roof of the car, “I’m not old!”
It took Gustave only a moment to wiggle out, but that moment cost him his sword, which went spinning into the darkness of the night through an open window. “Whom are you working for this time, you turncoat?” Joe asked. Punch. Left, then right. The third one, Gustave swept away with his wing.
“Moi?!” Gustave replied in genuine surprise, launching into a series of quick, wide swings of his razor-sharp claws, which earned him the codename. “You change your agencies… more often than you change aprons… and you dare call me a turncoat?… The nerve!… My loyalty to M.U.F.F.I.N. is est indiscutable!… It is the stuff of legends!”
“Like the tooth breezie?” Joe replied, capturing a claw with his magic. In a lucky feat of levitation, he managed to use the momentum of the swing to pin the other claw to the floor with it, burying the talons deep in the wood. While Gustave was struggling to free himself, Joe ran towards the center of the car and grabbed the carpet with his hooves.
He quickly checked through his rainy day collection of one-liner quips. “Bye-bye, birdie,” Joe said, and pulled sharply on the carpet.
Half a minute later, when Gustave was finally restrained, Joe sat on the carpet – rolled up around the unfortunate griffon – and finally let out a breath of relief. “Old age, my donuts…” he mumbled.
Instead of the expected curses and accusations, however, he was met with snickering and chortling of the feline-avian variety. “What’s so funny, birdbrain?”
“A-ha-ha. I think I won’t tell you,” Gustave replied from within the carpet.
Joe was about to kick the griffon-in-a-tube for good measure, but intuition told him that this wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he looked towards the cake, forgotten in the heat of the struggle.
A vaguely mule-shaped shadow loomed over it, sword drawn, and with a glint of light and a whoosh, the cake was split into numerous tasty segments. With but one slash, Joe’s laser-grid alarm system and his life-or-death struggle were rendered pointless, his mission a failure. Before Joe could blink again, the mule ninja was gone like the wind.
✶ ✶ ✶
“So, what do you have to say for yourself, Agent double-glaze-Joe?!” Pinkie yelled, butting heads with him. Joe scrunched his face, but didn’t yield, or even reply, which I guess I can understand. This was, after all, a very Pinkie kind of story. Completely unreal and meant to get the audience to roll on the floor laughing, while she’s delivering it with the straightest face possible. Maybe the moment wasn’t quite right for this sort of thing. On any other day, we’d be out for the count before she even mentioned swords and lasers.
“Stop it, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said suddenly, hiding in her hair. “I c… confess.”
Everypony, including the bakers, stared at her, mouths open. Yes, including me. I thought that I ate the cake, what the hay?! It didn’t look like I ate all that much, but it was dark and I had to evade Pinkie, so who’s counting anyway.
“You just made it sound so delicious,” Fluttershy continued, receding deeper into her hair, “so tasty… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” she continued, swallowing tears.
I rushed to hug her under my wing. “Stop it, Fluttershy. I’m sure I ate more of that cake than you!”
“You did?” she whispered, peeking out of the hair with just one eye to look at me. Dammit, Fluttershy, to get so upset over some stupid cake! It’s not THAT big of a deal, is it?
Behind my back, Rarity added, “I must admit, you made it sound so delectable, Pinkie, that I could not possibly resist taking a nibble either.”
“Don’ look at me,” Applejack said, even though nopony was looking at her. “I’ve promised ta get this here cake ta destination, an’ ya wouldn’t catch me dead eatin’ it until it’s there, no way, no how,” she added, staring off into the window with a frown.
“Admit it, you’re just jealous you didn’t get any cake,” I ribbed her.
“Now that’s just mean, Rainbow,” Applejack deadpanned, still not looking at anypony. “Mah vengeance will be served cold an’ sweet.”
Twilight silently reached out with a hoof to pull Pinkie’s silly detective cap off and hid her face in it. Which looked very funny, because she still had that bowler hat on. “Seriously, girls, I feel like I’m back in magic kindergarten! Can’t you all be mature just this once?!”
Fluttershy finally peeked out of her hair far enough to look at Pinkie. “…Can you even forgive me?” she said. I could feel her trembling under my wing.
“Stop it right there, you silly filly!” Pinkie glared sternly at Fluttershy. “Cakes exist to make ponies smile!” and suddenly smiled as brightly as ever. “Was it tasty? Was it sweet? Was it the most fantabulous cake ever? The most important thing! Did it make you smile? Didit, didit?”
Fluttershy just melted. “It was the best cake I’ve ever tasted… Maybe the best I will ever taste…”
“Then it’s all good!” Pinkie announced triumphantly, scanning the dessert car, stopping to stare each baker in the eye. “You heard this, bakers?” she said, dancing circles around the competition, “Joe’s Donutopia is a spectacular city of donutty delight, topped temptingly in sprinklicious sprinkles, sure to please even the most discerning connoisseur.” Whiff of the donuts. Eh, I’m not much of a fan of those, it’s too easy to eat too many, I’ve got to keep in shape. “Gustave’s eclairs are incredibly edible, glistening in their glaziness, a gourmand’s dessert if I ever saw one.” Damn, she’s working up my appetite again. “Mulia Mild’s Mousse Moose is audacious in its mouth-watering chocolatey marvellousness, an innovative temptation of cocoa!” She actually licked the thing. “Each one of them is deserving of the first place. And yet, when faced with opposition and risk of discovery, which one everypony chose to take a bite from, hm-m-m? M-m-m-m-m…”
And suddenly, the car went dark, and whooshing noises filled the air.
When the train left the tunnel and the darkness faded, Joe’s Donutopia and Gustave’s eclairs were missing at least half the total weight, and about the only intact part of the chocolate moose was the head. The cake was missing another third, and the bakers were just standing there, looking around guiltily and licking their lips. And beak.
I giggled. I think I know exactly what happened, this time.
Twilight’s yell was loud enough to rival Princess Luna’s Royal Canterlot Voice.
“Oh COME ON!”
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7134642 Heh, sounds like you're being too hard on yourself. I'd feel a little bad about placing it there - I like this philosophical discussion. But if it makes you laugh, I'll do it. Should I?
My other choices so far are better than I usually get:
Unfortunate Conflict Of Evidence (maybe)
Just Read The Instructions
Clear Air Turbulence
Revisionist
Minority Report (I kind of like this)
As a side note, your thoroughly evil comment about 6x9=42 in base 13 had me learning multiplication in different bases yesterday. Seriously, you are entirely to blame for that. And yes my Saturday was that productive.
7134755
Dunno, pick the one you feel works best, you can always change it later. :) "Unfortunate Conflict Of Evidence" sounds quite apt, though, especially in the light of the draft of Conversation 18...
7134791 Done! And that doesn't sound ominous at all. Hopefully Twilight won't explode too badly.
Well you have to put the sprinkles on while it is fresh of course.
7134911
And then transport it overnight by train so that they have time to seep in, naturally.
Super sprinkles are not very stable in their pure form. They tend to take offence if you so much as look in their general direction and tend to externate that feeling by liberally glazing their immediate surroundings, ponies included. If, on the other hoof, they are put in a stabilising structure, let' say a perfectly built sugar crystalline cage on the top of donuts, then thy can be safely moved.
Bon Bon is the only licensed Super Sprinkle producer in Canterlot's neighbourhood. You can get some on the black market from dealers with a fake Stalliongrad accent, but that would mean disqualification for a missing paper trail.
I am absolutely loving this story so far. It makes my brain work hard to make sense of every concept being shown and partly explained.
Random Reading Notes Which Hopefully Aren't Too Annoying:
- Grey Matter. Oh god, you went there, didn't you? lol
- That's right, Dennis—thirty-seven isn't old. Besides, it's not the years, it's the mileage.
- Despite what you might think, the action was awesome! I loved Joe vs Gustave. That is a comedy story begging to be written.
- Hold on, who's Brock Samson—Oh my. I guess I have a lot to catch up on.
- This was hilarious, Pinkie's narration of the events was perfect, I'm still trying to jam this chapter's square relevance into something circular, and no don't say anything about the answer being in the outline for Chapter 20, you tease!
So yeah, this was quite fun.
7139474
Thanks, I hope I'll do just as well on Conversation 16, then. (which is 80% complete, but the action is still an outline...)
I suppose it shouldn't be much of a spoiler to say that this is when Twilight finally meets Trixie again... what, you forgot she's supposed to be in here, already, when she's been mentioned all the way back in Conversation 1? The Great and Powerful Trixie will be very annoyed.
The jokes are honest comic relief. Mostly. The narrative tricks, however... ;)
I wonder if Pinkie stepped up her narrative game this conversation for the express purpose of creating a new world in which her version of events actually happened?
7158382
Considering how often Pinkie's hunches, on average, turn out to be word for word true in the world in which they are uttered? :)
I loved this wonderfully silly chapter. I think we can guess who the head of MUFFINS is, of course.
7729140
I actually researched The Man From U.N.C.L.E. specifically for this chapter. :)
MUFFIN, wholly owned subsidiary of LOVEMUFFIN.
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