Line of Ire (5)
20
“Ms. Grace?” the intercom squawked in a bored monotone. “That rando you asked to come by randomly came by.”
“Thank you, Anne,” Mrs. Grace said with the same patience she used on everypony who worked on this floor. “I take it you mean Mr. Trotter.”
“You know I don’t look at names past noon Ms. Grace, nopony worth knowing shows up past then. Grey coat? Microscope cutie mark? Kinda frazzled? Got a birth defect?”
“Hey!” another voice squawked indignantly.
“Sorry, birthmark. I get the two mixed up.”
“I’m coming out now, Anne,” Ms. Grace said firmly, needlessly straightening her suit as she took her hoof off the button.
“Listen lady,” she heard the young stallion snapping to Anne’s ever unimpressed face as she swung the office door open, “I’ve put up with way too much today, no, this century, to be treated like a doormat right now!”
“Well sir, since your hooves are on my desk maybe you’d like to help yourself to my appointment book and we’ll sort something out. You’re not married, right?”
Ms. Grace smiled and shook her head as Peter flushed with mortification and Manehattanite fury. All these years and customising her door to open soundlessly was still paying off in new and interesting ways. “You...I’m gonna—!”
“Shake my hoof like a gentlecolt, I hope,” she smiled as he spun around.
“Uh, that…Yes! Hi! Hello!” She raised an eyebrow as he clasped it in both and frantically shook as if trying to unfurl a parachute in mid-descent. The boy had quite a grip. That he was clearly tempering. “Uh, sorry it’s so late, I only got your letter a few minutes ago. My apartment kinda…”
“Ah, I was wondering.” Ms. Grace led him out into the hall. “I’m afraid it will be at least a day before we manage to complete repairs on your building. How’s your situation right now? We work with organisations that deal in temporary accommodations…”
“A friend made me a surprising offer, so that’s actually okay.” Peter ran a hoof through his mane as if trying to comb the entire day out of it. “Dunno how I’ll be able to chip in, but…”
“Mmm. We’ll see.” He really wasn’t thinking about this as the opportunity it was. Either shellshock or a good heart. Possibly both. He’d need focus either way, and how hard could he be to steer compared to the rest of her employees. “Mr. Trotter, do you know why you’re here?”
“Ah, no. Your letter was kinda charred but it sounded like you just wanted to meet? Listen if this is an insurance thing, I can promise you now I don’t have the bits to--”
“Our service is to Equestria in general.” Ms. Grace gestured to the offices they were passing through. “It’s my responsibility to make money back so these ponies can live of course, but that’s what we are. A service, not a business. Or a charity.”
“I see?” He really hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Mr. Trotter, I understand that coming home to find yourself homeless is quite the shock, but do you remember what you did yesterday?”
“Got hit by a mail pony…?”
“How you spend your free time is between you and the Great Pony in the Sky, dear,” she smiled. “But I was referring to a rather impromptu interview at one of our recently purchased labs.”
“That was you guys?” Peter blinked, then stared out of the large window that gave visitors a generous view of the rows of construction vehicles. His own startled reflection helped him focus and he turned back to her. “What is this?”
“An investment, I suppose.” Ms. Grace took her own look at the lifeblood of her company. “You may not have impressed them, but you made enough of an impression that they told me about you. A young pony with what should be fine credentials and next to no relevant research. He even came to the wrong sort of lab for the wrong sort of interview.”
Peter’s ears drooped. He looked at her curiously as she put a gentle hoof on his shoulder. “And what did he do? Try to make it work. That was interesting.”
“Oh?”
“What’s even more interesting is the copy of Dr. River Reeds’ report on the whole Destroyer incident I received an hour ago. He didn’t make that anklet, and while I’ve had the pleasure of Spider-Pony’s company a few times over the years he never struck me as the scientific sort. It makes more sense if you look at the credit for all those photos old Ferocious Flattop likes to use, and have a copy of their resume.”
He was trying to facially stonewall her, for reasons she honestly didn’t care to speculate about, but couldn’t keep the curiosity out of his eyes. He was getting the idea but still not the reasoning.
“Do you know that little toy has revolutionised magical detainment in only three hours? Of course, there’s issues with the idea of paralysing a wearer, so it’s a good thing you’d need far more magic than is practical to make it a permanent feature. But a visible trail when they try to go somewhere they shouldn’t? You can practically hear the thundering of hooves as the industry races to reverse-engineer the concept. Quite the pretty penny for the pony who had the idea.”
“Wait, really?!” He looked shocked, as if money was as alien a concept as the Planet Krypton and he was vaguely terrified of it. Oh, he did show promise.
“Or it would if he could stake any claim to it.” Ms. Grace shrugged. “The anklet concept technically belongs to the crown, so he’d need to lodge a request to build any to begin with, and magical examination would confirm the spells and materials used as property of Fantastic Inc. even if Dr. Rivers hadn’t said so in his report. Very messy.”
“Uh…yeah.” He followed her to the real showpiece, the rows of cubicles and lockers in the large office at the end of the hall. “So, if this pony is such a mess…why does this feel like another interview?”
“Oh, it isn’t.” Ms. Grace smiled at him but her eyes were determined as ever. “It’s an offer.”
“But anything I could show you is hopelessly out of date! A-and the anklet--”
“Who said anything about that?” She raised an eyebrow. She hoped covering like this wasn’t going to be a habit with him. “You want something more to show potential employers? I’m sure a few years in the exciting world of high-concept construction will pad your resume.”
Peter blinked at her. “This is…I don’t know what to…”
“Say yes, I hope!” Ms. Grace beamed. “If you think we’ll take it easy on you, don’t worry. The job’s demanding enough as it is, but I lost a quite talented consultant to his own ego today and am taking a flyer on a nice young stallion, who clearly needs something to pull himself together. Shake my hoof and you become an investment. And for the amount of training and responsibility I’m investing in you, I will expect you to make good.”
He blinked at her. Looked at the vacant cubicle they were standing in front of. Watched as a janitor slipped Arcadian Tombs’ nameplate into a push-bin.
Smiled and held out his hoof.
“Welcome to Damage Control, Peter Trotter. Hope you survive the experience.”
“Not gonna lie,” Johnnycake said, dusting his finally free hooves down as he surveyed the living room, “thought it’d be bigger.”
“That a crack?” the Thing rumbled, carefully trying to navigate around the boxes filling the space.
“No, that thing right over where you keep your brain, that’s a crack.” Johnny traced it with a line of fire. “Anyway, not the apartment, Pete’s check. I mean, getting money out of Amazing Grace? That’s supposed to be Hearth’s Warming come early! I don’t even spend that ‘starter salary’ on mane and tail products!”
“I’m starting out.” Peter shrugged. “This was as much as they could give me in advance. Felt lousy asking, but I wanted to show I’m good for this place.”
He held the check out to the Thing, involuntarily waving his undamaged hoof as those massive stone jaws took the corner and tucked it into his new landlord’s bomber jacket.
“Ain’t you I’m worried about, webs.”
“Hey, have you met him?” Johnny was pushing a last box into his bedroom. “Guy’s even more likely to burn the place down than I am.”
“That why you told me about it?” Peter smirked back. “Plausible deniability?”
“Deny this.” Johnny made a rude gesture with his tail. “Like I’m not gonna spend every party explaining away your sad existence in the corner zone.”
Grim Skies scowled. “I didn’t say nothin’ about no parties.”
“So you must’ve said somethin’!” Johnny called back. “Like oh yeah, that’s who I’m renting too! Jazz! Clobbering! Penny-farthings!”
“Regret anythin’ yet?” the Thing asked Peter as they shifted the last of his smoky, dented, but still intact possessions into his new bedroom.
“New job comes with insurance, so.” Peter shrugged. “Have I said thank you too much yet?”
“I’m an idol o’ millions shrimp, good etiquette forbids me from puttin’ a limit on how much tearful thanks I get, no matter how humble a stallion I may be.” He looked around what was going to be a guest bedroom until Johnny had shown the kid around. Plenty of boxes. “Looks like ya made out okay. Considerin’.”
“Yeah, the Basilisk only took out my living room.” Peter smiled to himself as he gently placed a family photo of Aunt May and Uncle Glen, already in the new frame Sue had lent him, onto his new bedside table. “All the important stuff was in the bedroom.”
“Maybe ya ain’t as unlucky as ya think.”
“Maybe.”
“You two done making out yet?” Johnny asked poking his head through the door. “Because this next part is gonna be hard enough as it is.”
“Admitting you’re just a really, really light brunette?”
“Finally acceptin’ polo shirts are dead and nothin’ ya do is gonna bring ‘em back?”
“I c’ld br'n th’s y’know,” Johnny smirked (or at least curled the corners of his lips) as he lifted his own deposit check in his mouth.
“You could also go jump in the East River but there’s laws about pollutin’.” The Thing snatched the check and stuffed it in his other pocket. 616B Yancy Street was officially theirs. Just like that.
“Well squirts, if ya ever need anythin’ don’t hesitate.” The Thing waited until he was halfway out the door. “To ask somepony else.”
“Sure you won’t stay for coffee?” Peter asked en-route to the kitchen. “Actually, it’s dented but I got a box of this really cool Neighponese tea Princess Celestia got me hooked on around here somewhere. Dust adds flavour, right?”
“Please Pete, as if a pony with taste dresses like Grim does.” Johnny stuck his hoof in the door to stop the Thing closing it, making to follow him out onto the landing. “Be right back, real hero talk. You understand.”
“Understand this!” Peter called back without turning around, making an equally rude gesture with his tail.
***
“Somethin’ on your mind, matchstick?” the Thing asked, looking over his shoulder as he navigated the stairwell. Johnny noted it was just big enough to accommodate that hulking frame and half wondered what plans Grim had been brewing for the apartment before now.
“Just wanted to know why.”
Grim paused, managing to half turn to get a better look at him.
“I’m not ungrateful but you put work into this. You wouldn’t hoof it over to just anypony.”
“Nah. I hoofed it over to family.” Two sets of blue eyes. Not staring each other down, but locked. This was important. “Back in the day, I didn’t do much right by the old neighbourhood. Since sayin’ thank you would probably turn ya back into a pumpkin, maybe you could pay this forward an’ keep an eye on the place for me.”
“Friendly neighbourhood Horseshoe Torch, huh?” Johnny smirked. “I do enjoy a challenge.”
“You’re on Yancy Street now, kid. You don’t know from challenge.”
Johnny watched him plod out of sight then headed back inside before he lost his machismo and said something affectionate. He considered the new digs again, still not sure how to feel now he was here but riding the slight buzz.
Still a lot to unpack, but they’d got the couch and entertainment system set up. An airy living room he half suspected had been designed for a Thing sized occupant, two spacious windows filling the room with light. At nigh the glow of the skyscrapers would light the place up just right. Bathroom door on the left (which he was already planning to save up to turn spa-grade, no matter what Pete said) next to the front door, dining nook and kitchen on the right.
And that was just the living room. He considered the wall facing the windows, almost glowing in the evening light. His bedroom on the left, Peter’s on the right, with plenty of wall space to stick whatever dumb trophies and kick knacks they wanted in between. They’d already stuck up a poster, and it helped.
He could almost see it, a few days from now. When the buzz would just fade out. Home.
“So we should probably make a start on our rooms,” Peter said, nosing an extra coffee cup across the counter.
“That’d be the responsible thing.” Johnny took a sip. “Or.”
They locked eyes and counted down to three in near perfect sync. “Hook the radio into the LCD-ball and binge watch 30 Rock.”
22
A couple of wires, some minor electrical burns and several hundred network jokes later Peter rubbed his eyes, realising that slight buzzing sensation was coming from the glow of the crystal ball being the only light in the room. Luna’s moon and the lights of the city glowed beyond it.
“Man, I gotta be in for orientation at 9:00 tomorrow. Ugh. Didn’t even tell The Bugle I got the job yet. That’s gonna be a fun conversation. You want anything to eat?”
“Sure,” Johnny yawned, stretching. “Man, we should celebrate but nowhere trendy’ll be open yet. Kinda late to book a table too.”
“Could try Ponyville,” Peter mused as Lemon Swiss cried out her mouth. “They do these great potlucks.”
“Wouldn’t it be way past their bedtime even if we could grab a train?” Johnny smirked, clapping his hooves.
“What’re you doing?”
“The more important question is why do we not have a clapper?”
“Good taste?” Peter was in his room now, hunting through some boxes. “Train, schmain. Twilight set up a ley line spell that opens a portal between our living rooms. After today we may as well put one to use.”
“Y’know what? Despite the taste of mildly irradiated saliva in my mouth, I’m feeling too good to shoot you down.” Johnny hopped off the sofa, muting the radio and getting the lights so Peter could search his boxes properly. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also professionally curious to see just what kind of cryptid your girlfriend in Vanhoofer is.”
“Play nice or I won’t introduce you to Rarity and Fluttershy.”
“The model?” Johnny squinted. “It’s not 2010 anymore, Pete. Everypony should be old enough to admit Flüttershy is just a fairy tale designers tell divas so they’ll eat their diet pills.”
“Aqualusia. Wakanda. The Crystal Empire. El Dorado. Asgard. You got blown off by Nightmare Moon right in front of me.”
“Alright, alright. So what’s the deal? We’re not gonna have to chalk one up, are we? I mean, the floors not authentic hardwood but that’s no reason to draw on it.”
“As long as there’s something of ours in each other’s homes, we’ll always find each other,” Peter smiled. He’d cleared some boxes away. Johnny hung back but craned to see what he was looking all schmaltzy over. It was a hairbrush. He smiled despite himself.
Peter pressed a hoof to it, eyes closed. Something happened to the air. For a second the world around them was all sorts of purple.
Johnny felt like Crystal had been standing next to him all this time, as if the last few years had never happened. The image of Blackjack Mahogany on the globe twitched. Boxes were suddenly not where he remembered them and then were back again. And a violet aura pulsed gently around Peter’s body, leaking through his hooves in strands that spread across the floor. Johnny’s ears were full of a silence like a choir.
And then it was over. The apartment felt mercifully solid and there was a strange relief for the sounds of belligerent taxi drivers outside the windows.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Peter looked up, the violet glow fading from his eyes.
“Forget it. So, do we, like, knock, or…?”
He yelped as Peter vanished in a purple flash. And again, as Peter reappeared mid eyeroll, grabbed his shoulder and tugged him through what felt like molasses made of light. He almost chocked on the sudden change to the air.
23
Johnny tried to blink spots out of his eyes until he realised he was actually looking at bunting and streamers. Peter grinned abashed at the startled Elements. “Sorry, girls! Had to pick up some baggage.”
“Like you don’t have enough of your own,” Johnny smirked, looking around the cosy space. “Huh. Nice! Are we inside a tree or one of those tavern chains?”
“Oooh gosh.” Applejack looked between them. “We completely forgot. Okay, Pete, you’re maybe gonna wanna sit down, get a glass of cider…”
“What’s the occasion?” Peter beamed, checking out the loaded table. “Johnny here and I were actually hoping to rustle up a little celebration.”
One of Rainbow Dash’s ‘ironic, I swear,’ soft rock ballad CDs was crooning away on the stereo. Kind of late for a Ponyville party, but he wasn’t about to pass up what looked like Apple family shepherd’s pie with a Cloudsdale casserole!
“Um...” Fluttershy said.
“Were you now?” Rarity had materialised between him and Johnny. Peter took one look at her face and wondered why he’d been surprised. “And what is, ah, Johnny celebrating?”
“Well I have made an interesting new acquaintance.” The unlit Torch flashed her his own dental work. They both liked what they saw. “Hi, Tropical Johnnycake Storm. My friends call me Johnny.”
“Rarity Belle. Charmed!”
“Very!”
“I’m in the friendship business, myself. Perhaps I could tell you about it sometime.”
“I’d be delighted. When are you free?”
“Oh brother.” Applejack took another swig of cider. “I just ate, people!”
“Rarity?” Everypony looked up at Spike scowling from Twilight’s room. “Is this guy bothering you?”
“Oh wow, there really is a dragon!” Johnny beamed. “Cool, I thought you just made that up!”
“Why would I make that up? Exsqueeze me.” Peter sprang from the huddle, ricocheting off the wall so he could crouch on the staircase. “Hey, Spike. Is Twilight in? Got big news!”
“Uh, yeah, I mean, no, I mean…” Spike scratched his fins awkwardly. “Oh boy. Look man, you’ve gotta promise not to freak out?”
“Why would I—?” Peter flinched as the door was kicked open by what looked like a phalanx of cake boxes.
“Heads up, everypony!” Rainbow Dash announced, Pinkie Pie bouncing in behind her with her own load. “Dessert has officially arrived! Oh hey, Pete! Man, do we have a treat for…”
She caught Johnny’s hair out of the corner of her eye and lunged like an enraged jaguar, Fluttershy just managing to catch the cakes before they stopped hovering in mid-air. “YOU!”
“You?!” Johnny leapt back, igniting and hovering almost a foot in the air from shock as Applejack managed to throw herself between them. “Oh hay, you’re that Rainbow Dash?!”
“It’s not exactly a common name...” Peter blinked. “Wait, wait, you two know each other?”
The Torch shrugged. “I’ve broken up with at least three Rainbow Dashes.”
“Well I’m the only one you have to worry about!”
“Down, girl!” Applejack snapped, turning her face to the side to avoid furiously thrashing wings. “Wait, you’re Tropical Storm? From flight school? Dang, I’m half tempted to let ‘er--”
There was a flash of sunlight outside and the halfway closed door was barged open again. A frantic looking Princess Celestia stared around the room. “Excuse me girls, I’m sorry to intrude but I was just in Manehattan, and…Johnnycake?”
She caught sight of Peter. “Peter Trotter! Oh, thank goodness! I thought something dreadful had happened! It occurred to me that I really should visit to make sure you were prepared, and I saw your home had been demolished, but if you’re already here—”
“Princess? Yeah, the Destroyer…” Peter frowned. “Prepare me for what?”
“The Destroyer?!”
“Hey your highness!” Johnny waved around the struggling Elements of Honesty and Loyalty.
Celestial turned to them, looking even more startled. “Rainbow Dash! Whatever are you doing?!”
“I’ll show you if AJ’ll just let go!”
“Do not let go!” Johnny urged, conjuring a flame shield and football helmet.
“Spike?” Twilight’s voice came from the kitchen.
“Twilight!” Peter grinned. He somersaulted down onto the floor, trying to get around the tangle of bodies to see her. “Man, you will not believe the day I’ve had!”
He finally managed to shove Rainbow and Applejack apart with half his spidey-strength. “It’s been…”
And then he saw her. “…crazy.”
His mind tried to superheat even as it melted, running through every dribbling scenario his career could suggest. Clone? Long lost twin? Mutant growth hormone? Other reality? Marediaga costume? But her eyes. Nopony could fake those. It was her.
“Oh,” Princess Twilight Sparkle said with an awkward rustle of her new wings. “Um. Hi?”
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Did Johnny try to stop Nightmare Moon by hitting on her? Because that is fantastic.
9538618
Ahaha, that does sound like him! But no, Johnny's just saying he doesn't believe this famous model exists let alone that Peter knows her, and Peter's just listing all the way crazier shit they know is real, including the legendary moon princess who saw through his bullshit bow in the last chapter.
9538618
So since I'm making decent progress on the opening scenes of the next chapter, how'd this do when it was all together? I find I make more actual progress when I just put out what I have instead of waiting to publish it in one big chapter. Some scenes seem to also just work better when they're isolated.
9540227
I agree, they work better divided up.