A War

by Comma Typer

Over the Course of a Day

"So, why do you want to go to my bookstore again?" the librarian asked Scootaloo.

The two of them walked on a Canterlot street where streetlights and stationary umbrellas proliferated, shielding the pedestrians from the occasional falling leaf, snapped out of its branch by the gust. It was colder; more ponies wore thicker clothing though, most of them desiring to retain a smidge of formality and name, wore the fanciest of thick clothing: sweaters laced with jewelry, jackets studded with diamonds, and hats that extended far beyond the head.

"I want to know everything about beating up my enemies!" Scootaloo replied, cheerful and smiling.

The librarian gulped as they trotted on. "That's...interesting."

"It's more than that! It's awesome!" Scootaloo jumped up to the air, flapping her wings and hovering above the ground for a few seconds. "Don't you feel the rush? The pump? The thrill?!"

"You sound like you've already been there," she noted.

Scootaloo bit her tongue, avoiding her glance. "Got excited by the stories Rumble tells me about his brother! He's a Wonderbolt, and he can do amazing stuff. But, do you want to know who I'm rooting for?"

"I have no idea," the librarian replied, gruffer.

"Rainbow Dash!" Scootaloo screamed, shaking her head. "One of the most coolest, most radical, most awesomest pony who's ever lived!"

The librarian stopped her with a hoof.

Gave her a mean look.

"Trust me, Scootaloo. You don't want to be a Wonderbolt. Not even in the same place where they stay. It'll get to you...they'll get to you."

"Wh-Why?" Scootaloo asked, taking up her surroundings and noticing the street in front of them.

Across, the bookstore.

"The Wonderbolts have the highest survival rates out of all the special units," the librarian said, gazing aside. "This means they survive everything. And everyone."

Another gulp.

"It doesn't take a day to build up a friendship. Not usually. True friendships stand the test of time, forged over the course of the good and the bad, of the happy and the sad. That takes weeks, months, even years. You've heard stories? I've heard stories. Stories of how two best friends who could never be apart from each other...then, one of them got a concussion from the enemy, suffered brain damage, and died within twelve hours. The one who lived on?" Shook her head slowly. "He was a different pony. The smile on his face, that perennial smile...gone. Never talks except to say 'Yes' or 'Affirmative' to his officer. He might as well be...might as well be..."

"That's because they're weak," Scootaloo declared, planting a hoof on the ground. Or, in this case, the sidewalk. "What was he? Probably a fresh recruit."

"And, if you go in to the air force, you'll be a fresh recruit just like him," the librarian replied. "Full of ideals. Full of energy. Full of lies."

"I'm not a liar!" Scootaloo said, taking a few steps back and staring at her from head to hoof.

"No, but you've been lied to."

"The Princesses don't lie!" Scootaloo shouted.

"Not them, either. I'm talking about the soldiers, the guards—the ones who spread 'amazing' and 'unbelievable' stories of victory. Well, what about the ones who didn't live to tell the tale?"

"They died to sacrifice themselves!"

The librarian recoiled. "And you, a filly, think of life as if it's something you can assign a number to? You think that ponies just throw away their lives because, oh, they felt like it? Because they were bored?!"

Scootaloo raised a hoof to her face, covering half of it from her angry expression.

Her angry eyes.

"Scootaloo—" calming down, breathing slower "—you're not a mare yet. You still have time to enjoy the simple times of a filly. Don't preoccupy yourself in...in this." Gestured a hoof at the bookstore. "I know what you want. You want to buy books about how to use weapons, how to defend yourself...no, it's something more." She shook her head again. "It's...agh! Thorax!"

Scootaloo reeled. "What? What's that?"

The librarian placed a hoof on her head. Pained. "Don't remember it. It's just...just a pony—heh, a pony—someone from my past. Used to work for me. Just..."

Pointed away.

"Go. Back to Ponyville you go and don't talk to me."

Scootaloo wiped her own eyes. "W-Wait—"

"Go!"

"Ahh!"

And Scootaloo ran away, galloping down the sidewalk.

---

That librarian sat on the bed.

Inside the half-furnished room in the bookstore.

Stood up.

Walked over to the only shelf on the wall.

Marks of removed shelves around it.

On that, a framed picture.

She levitated it closer.

Saw who was there.

The librarian and Crystal Hoof, smiling and waving for the camera before the store's entrance.

Floated a hoofwritten note from it.

"'To Well Read. Thank you so much for letting me help you out here! It's way better than working for an evil king! I don't know what to say other than lots of thanks! I really don't know how to make it up to you after this!'"

A choke.

"'From, Crystal Hoof.'"

Well Read looked up, seeing the dingy and dusty ceiling. "I...I don't know, too. At the very least, I helped you escape an evil queen."

Levitated the picture and the note back.

Ding!

Well Read raced to the door, opened it, entered the bookstore proper, and saw the customer there.

That cloaked pony.

The librarian clenched her jaw. In a nasty voice, with narrowed down eyes: "What great timing, miss! Are you the one who framed Thorax?!"

The cloaked pony shook her head.

Though her teeth glittered, betraying a grin.

"I heard the news from others. It's a bad situation, indeed."

"What are you here for, anyway?!" Well Read yelled, walking past the shelves and forced a hoof on to her muzzle. "Are you going to rub this whole tragedy on my face?!"

"I only wanted to return what was yours."

That cloaked pony's horn glowed and a pair of glasses appeared from her shroud.

The glow around the glasses turned yellow.

Well Read received it with her hooves. "Why...why...how?"

"You dropped it." She snorted. "It happens to the best of us, so don't blame yourself too much."

"Thank you, miss—"

And the cloaked pony was already out.

---

"That should total up to fifty bits, correct?" the cloaked pony asked, tapping impatiently on the counter between the inside and the outside of the cookie shop.

Carriages speeding by, packs of ponies whizzing by. Bells, horns, chatter in downtown Manehattan.

It was afternoon.

The pony behind the counter, Cookie Crumbles, flaoted several boxes of cookies. "Don't forget that eating it all in one sitting is very bad for your health!"

She nodded. "Which is why I'll eat none of them."

Cookie Crumbles rocked her head in confusion, her purple bunned mane not falling apart into bangs. "I don't get it. Why do you want the cookies if you won't eat them? Is it for a friend?"

"You could say that." Smiled.

---

Outside, it was sunset, almost evening.

In a small castle, situated near a jammed intersection in Canterlot, the cloaked pony was on the carpet of a brightly lit hallway of both candles and electric lights.

She knocked rapidly on the wooden door.

"Coming!" a tired voice from inside yelled.

She put down the box of cookies and the note.

Ran away.

Door opened.

A robed Sunburst rubbed his eyes, tipping his round eyeglasses. "What w-was it?" Looked down, saw the cookies. "Ooh! Hello! Another batch of cookies, eh?" He floated it up, inspecting it and the note. "'Sunburst, here are some cookies. They should keep you up until tomorrow morning. Your project on improved artillery could end up being finished earlier than planned!'"

Sunburst smiled, then glanced to the left.

At the end of the hallway, a fleeing shadow almost escaped his sight.

---

Nighttime in Ponyville.

Owls hooting from a tree under the soft glow of a few newly-installed streetlights.

That cloaked pony dropped from the tree, causing one of the owls to fly away.

Tip-hoofed from one house to another, hopped over to yet another house, and knocked on the door.

Heard flicks of switches, saw windows brigthen up.

She put on her shades, fixed her tie.

Door opened.

"It's almost eleven," Bon Bon said, scratching her unkempt mane, "so, this better be—no."

Shuddered.

"Brooks?" Sweetie Drops uttered. "No...no...it can't be!" Stole a glimpse behind her.

The cloaked pony levitated a glowing metal tip.

"Lyra!" Bon Bon cried out.

Throat caught.

Banged on the wall.

Grappled, strangled.

Thrown at the door, to the dark outside.

Broken, ripped off.

Stood up.

Tackled.

Hoof on her face.

Lyra galloped to the scene.

Screamed.

The cloaked pony kept Sweetie Drops down with a hoof as she struggled to get out of her grip.

Lyra glowed her horn. Tensed her teeth. "Who are you and what are you doing to my friend?!"

"Agent Brooks," that cloaked pony replied. "Employed under the S.M.I.L.E. That's Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria. We keep monsters at bay. That's the sweet short of it."

"But, what does Bon Bon have to do with you?!" Lyra yelled.

"Her name's not Bon Bon. It's Special Agent Sweetie Drops."

Lyra gasped. "This must be a complicated prank!" Stared at Bon Bon, eyes pleading. "Bon Bon, please tell me this is a joke! It's cruel, but it's a joke, right?!"

Bon Bon opened her mouth.

Sighed and closed; in her eyes, a defeat. "What's the use in lying any longer, Lyra?"

"If you had any doubts," the cloaked pony said, horn still glowing, "I've got credentials."

Out of her cloak and suit pockets, an array of identification. ID cards, papers, classified photos.

"After the bugbear she'd captured escaped, we had to 'dissolve' the agency. Only the essential ponies who could run it were kept. Sweetie Drops here had to relocate to a small time village...here. Assumed the name 'Bon Bon'."

Floated the credentials back to her pockets.

And levitated the tip.

"She is needed for wartime activities," that cloaked pony stated. "Her skills at intelligence and espionage are inestimable." A smile. "No matter how good your life was with her, now is the time to relinquish those memories. Can't let a paper trail reveal our existence."

Lyra kneeled down, held Sweetie Drops's head. "Do something, Bon Bon!"

Nodded.

Kicked her hoof.

The cloaked pony staggered to the ground outside.

Dropped the tip.

It rolled a little.

Stopped glowing.

Lyra held up the tip and pointed it at the cloaked pony. "Got you!"

Bon Bon stood up, straight beside her.

The cloaked pony smiled again. "I got an advanced model."

The tip glowed.

Flashed blinding white.

Comments

[Sir Budginton]

Well Read is twilight's alias. I'm calling it. You can't pull the wool over my eyes

Also you changed your name, any particular reason, or you just felt like it?

[Comma Typer]

8767933

Yes! Someone else noticed crystal ponies' eyes!

Someone had to.

8768014

Also you changed your name, any particular reason, or you just felt like it?

There are three things about the name change. One: I've had my old name ever since I joined this site, which was 2014. Two: The new name looks more professional. Three: It matches with the style of my profile pictures...well, I hope it was obvious that the floating thing there was a comma, but I can see why it might not look like one.