10-23
The bureau wasn’t just a place to disaster-proof one’s self from the Veil by turning into some magical creature from a magical world. It was also where both humans and Equestrians could chat with one another, where they could understand each other and their respective cultures.
After an hour or so of recording business transactions, carrying boxes of precious potions in bulk, and doing the necessary paperwork to set up Lacque’s appointment to become a breezie by tomorrow following some evaluation tests—
After all of that, Sam started his lunch break by buying a couple double-decker sandwiches from the coffee bar. All his choices were vegetarian, officially to be respectful to others should he eat with a pony or another creature who couldn’t digest meat. However, in the back of his mind, he wanted to prepare himself for the conversion process, and what if he’d chosen a pony? Or a yak, a buffalo, a zebra, even a breezie? He’d heard of few die-hard meat lovers who hadn’t been well informed of that, and he didn’t like the ending after they all became ponies on a whim. One of them had broken down because he couldn’t run his steak house anymore, at least without extensive restructuring.
With that done, Sam sat down at the lounge, on a chair where both the adjacent seats were vacant. Now was an inconvenient time to say a lot of words. Now was the time to observe, to see the one thing that struck him the most when he arrived in Los Angeles: the human-Equestrian interaction.
But then, the door opened. Sam turned around to see who this newcomer was.
“Douglas?” he asked, seeing the blue stallion march in.
“Ah, you recognize me!” boomed that deep voice.
The pony trotted up to him, then raised his hoof to pat the man on the back.
And stopped, chuckling. He retracted his hoof and let it brush his mane. “Well, I should be careful around you. People don’t like having a ton being thrust into their bodies, you know.”
Sam recoiled at that, wondering if this pony almost crushed him on accident. “I wouldn’t want to know how much force you were about to put on me.”
“I said it’s a ton,” Douglas repeated.
“Oh.”
Douglas lifted a cheek, making his smile a little uneven. “Sometimes I’m not aware of my own strength,” he said. “It’s pretty bad if you’re forgetful, but that’s one of the perks of being an Earth pony.” He pumped his chest, showing off his pony pride. “Improvised riot police if things go sour. People will think twice before they try to rob me.”
Sam pursed his lips at that, imagining this pony in an alley, fighting criminals like some superhero in a movie. “Just curious: Have you ever been a police officer, Douglas?”
“Not in my life,” he replied as he jumped up to the chair beside the volunteer’s. “And, hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather be called ‘Key Note’. I’m a pony, so I go with my pony name now.”
“OK, then.”
With that, Sam turned his head to see what else was going on in the lobby. A little line was there in front of a receptionist’s desk. The woman who had interrogated a yak the day before was now interrogating the receptionist rather quietly. Her exaggerated hand gestures, though, still made it look heated. The deer receptionist (who was also quite dear) was taking it all with as much grace as possible, as could be seen by the smile on her beak. Even then, the rest of the line gawked at her, checked their watches, or used their phones, all hoping this was a temporary setback and not one of those schedule-annihilating monsters.
On the front of peace, a few pegasi were setting up framed movie posters on the walls, supposedly to spice up the bureau and add in more of the human element. It was coarse to see cartoon hearts on a wall right next to a high-stakes action movie filled with explosions and car-robots. The sleeper hit My Pretty Princess: The Film did fit the theme with its cutesy colors and its fantasy protagonists that bore uncanny resemblances to the real life “fantasy” creatures in this very building.
On the other side of the lobby, another group of pegasi were setting up rich, lifelike oil paintings of Los Angeles. Like the ones in the seminar room, they were made by both humans and Equestrians. This one here showed a beautiful sunset hanging over the city with its skyscrapers and its hills far out, all the while trying to predict the future by depicting a borough of clouds above it where pegasi roamed around and lived hundreds of meters above the ground, complete with their own flying buildings.
A few minutes had passed, and that made Sam comfortable enough to ask Dougl—no, Key Note another question. “So, what’re you doing here?”
The pony crossed his hindlegs, put down his forehooves on the armrests, and looked back at Sam. He jerked a hoof behind him. “Plant duty.”
Obeying Key Note’s prompt, Sam turned his to the outside.
There, on the sidewalk, rested a flower box with a couple of thick bushes along with the flowers. The pony guards gazed upon these plants rather fondly, adoring them for their cute placement against the noise of rising traffic. A couple more ponies, not just Earth ponies, were hauling in more flower boxes, and the guards more than welcomed it. Even pegasi came swooping down just to look at the plants, among them one very familiar pegasus who flashed a glance at Sam.
Her eyes glimmered for a second before she flew away.
“I wanted to do my part in grooming the bureau for everyone,” Key Note said, examining his hoof and yanking Sam back into the discussion. “Consider it my way of saying thanks to the ponies who’ve helped us through.”
Sam bent his back forward, weighing what’d just been said. “There are other creatures chipping in, you know.”
“Ah, you’re nit-picking,” told the pony, wagging a hoof at him with a smile. “It’s not all ponies, of course, and the world will be boring if it was just ponies, ponies, ponies.” Looking off to the side, viewing the paintings of the city, “I only said that because it’s the pony princesses who started this whole Conversion Bureau thing. Everyone else followed suit. Really, you can’t deny it; they’re the biggest contributors and investors in this effort.” Key Note kicked back and placed a hoof on his head. “No wonder ponies are the number one choice in the majority of bureaus today.”
All Sam could say to that was a kind “Good point.”
That thread of conversation over, Key Note blathered, “Hold on,” and turned his head back to see the progress of the flower boxes.
Not wanting to offend this pony, Sam looked at the flower boxes, too. “So, you’re supervising over the plants outside?”
“Sort of,” he said, not turning to face his listener. “Everypony else knows a lot about gardening. Not me.”
Sam then lifted a knee so that he could take a closer look of the plants without actually getting up, without noticing the sandwiches he’d been holding all this time.
Without noticing that they’d almost fallen.
“Whoops!” and Key Note bent over, and grabbed all the sandwiches with both forehooves.
“Woah!” and Sam steadied himself from the wobble, having almost fallen himself.
Close to everyone laid their eyes on him, this probably clumsy volunteer who came so close to wasting his five dollars.
One of the pegasi setting up the paintings flew over to Sam, a hoof now around his neck. “Are you OK?” she asked in a compassionate tone.
Sam nodded fast, amazed that spoiled sandwiches was more than enough to bring this pegasus near to first aid mode. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m OK. No need to call an ambulance.”
The pegasus wiped the sweat off her head. “That’s great! Glad you didn’t get hurt.”
Hurt by sandwiches?, he wanted to add, although he didn’t think this mare would easily take a drop of sarcasm.
She gave a wave off both her hoof and her wing. She then flew back, carrying another painting from a box.
Sam rested on the chair, now a lot more focused on the sandwiches than before. Perhaps a bit too much since he was squeezing them with his tight grip. He awkwardly looked at Key Note and said, “Uh, thanks.”
“No problem,” he replied cheerfully, raising a hoof beside the sandwiches.
Sam flinched a bit at that mysterious hoof. “Do you...want some?”
Key Note laughed, hoof still there beside the sandwiches as he let out his amusement much to Sam’s confusion. “There weren’t that many ponies where you’re from, were they?”
The question only compounded poor Sam’s confusion. “Why’d you ask?”
The pony used another hoof to point at his raised hoof. “Hoofshake! Or, hoofbump! Whichever’s fine by me.”
If Sam had both hands free, he would’ve slapped himself. Not wanting to have both hands full and desiring to keep his face clean from grain and vegetables, he settled for a groan and, soon after, a dignified shake across both chairs.
To sustain this camaraderie, Sam offered one of his sandwiches to the pony He felt a little guilty that he was treating Key Note like he’d treat one of those ducks by the park, but he pushed through. “You want some?”
The stallion sniffed it. “It’s edible for me.”
“Making sure your body could take it?” Sam asked, adopting that vegetarian angle.
“You got a problem with that?” Key Note asked.
Sam balked at this pointed question. This pony was smiling, sure, but the question felt out of place for such a happy creature. “No. I have no problem with that.”
“Ah, don’t be intimidated!” told Key Note, waving his hoof about as he took the sandwich. “Don’t be too serious around me! You gotta know when I’m joking.”
That view brought the question under better light, yet Sam was still bothered over its suddenness. Was being a vegetarian a sensitive topic to Key Note? Has he been an avid meat lover before? That might explain the bout of aggression right then.
When Sam snapped out of it, he saw Key Note munching on his sandwich, enjoying the taste by closing his eyes and savoring each bite. Sam, too, took the time to eat though not as well as his pony counterpart did.
It was a good grilled cheese sandwich. Soft, chewy, crispy.
As he ate, he decided to eavesdrop on the conversation to his right, involving a griffon and...apparently, that same blue changeling from before, this time wearing a lab coat and a pair of glasses to nail that psychologist look.
“...so, her Alaska brother’s just went missing?” the griffon asked with an open claw.
“Yes, Greg—” and the changeling winced. He coughed, covering his mouth. His eyes rested upon the hallways at the back. “Colea, or Mrs. Crowley, is quite vocal about it—too vocal, in some cases. She managed to get ‘missing’ posters for the poor man all over the neighborhood.”
Greg scratched his wing, a nervous interest coming over. “How did it happen, Reolata?”
In order to answer that, he took off his glasses, removed his coat, and placed them over the chair. He dusted his forelegs off, too. All this done, Reolata replied, “Her brother, Whitaker, worked at the bureau there. One day, he was rewarded for his help by becoming any species he wanted there and then since he went through all the tests. They had a shortage that time, so it really was something special—even the rare potions like the hippogriff ones were available. It...it was supposed to be an exciting event, ‘cause there were other volunteers, and there’s supposed to be a party and all….”
Reolata made a pitiful pout, eyes focused on the floor as he tried to frame those words carefully.
“He downed the potion and—well, that’s where my search ended. No one wanted to answer my queries about him. All they told me was that he’s suddenly disappeared under strange circumstances.”
Greg stroked his feathery chin. “You think there’s a conspiracy going on? Maybe there’s some money laundering there or what have you, like when those conponies had a bureau as a front.”
“I don’t think they’re trying to steal money,” Reolata said, picking up a vase and using it as a point. “They got the Royal Seal of Approval, they got inspected by the Anchorage authorities...everything was legal and—you know what?”
That made Greg stand up on his chair.
“I have a better idea,” Reolata declared with hoisted hoof, high to the sky so that he’d attract the griffon’s attention. “Though it’s all unofficial and speculation, here’s my idea: Something went wrong with the potion.”
Greg cocked his head to the side. “You mean it’s been tampered?”
“The potions are supposed to be completely pure,” Reolata said, holding an imaginary one with his hooves. “It doesn’t have to be explained by evil or malevolent agendas. Maybe someone dirtied it on accident.”
“Accident?” Greg repeated with a spinning claw. “Despite how everything’s handled with gloves, safety goggles, proper procedures—”
Clunk!
The whirring vanished.
Awfully silent here.
Everyone stared at the air conditioning units.
The deactivated air conditioning units.
That’s when panic spread. People whispering, words rumbling with comments, rumors, and blame games. The staff did all they could to stay cool in spite of warming conditions. It was still cold inside, but in a while, it wouldn’t be; with the approach of noon, unregulated temperatures would surely inconvenience all inside, irritating everyone and perhaps fomenting a couple bad online reviews of the bureau.
“Wha-what’s going on?!” yelled Crowhop as she galloped into the tumultuous lobby, head spinning here and there like a scared bird. “Is this a robbery? Is this a hold-up?!”
“It’s the air-conditioning!” Sam replied, standing up from his chair before stuffing his mouth with the rest of the sandwich, getting lost in the chaos.
“Oh, no!” Crowhop planted both forehooves on her head, hooves and head asweat in a dose of panic. “Could it be sabotage already? We can’t have the Front do this now!” She tugged Sam’s shirt again, this time hard enough to make him grunt in surprise. Magically grabbing him by the collar, “Tell me, do they have machine guns?!”
“Machine guns?!” that interrogative woman yelled, having been sat down by the yak from before. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Machine guns are really bad for us!” Crowhop screamed, loud enough to get the whole room’s attention. “If they’re going to storm this place and kill us…” and looked at her hoof. “No, Canter, you better stay calm, you better stay calm for these people and—”
Clunk!
Everyone glanced up again, having heard that sound. They saw the ceiling once more with its lights, and that was all.
Muffled shouts from above.
Strong wingflaps, rushing breezes beyond the top.
Clunk!
More wingflaps. A muffled “Hey! Don’t you get away from us!”
Nee-nawing sirens blared in the distance.
Then, the doors whooshed open, letting in a policeman and his fellow policepegasus, both donned in dark blue uniform. Their shiny badges were on display as well as their weapons: a pistol for the human, some retractable wingblades for the pegasus.
All eyes were on these officers of the law, hoping that they’d save them from either a very troublesome disaster or the threat of machine gun-toting HLF radicals and extremists.
“Everything is under control,” the policepegasus said in a commanding voice, making everyone silent and more than a few shiver, wondering if they’d committed some crime they were unconscious of. “We’ve just encountered a regular felon by the name of Spaghetti Tree; nothing too serious. We’re currently chasing her down, so don’t you worry.” Pointed up and outside, “We’ve got our fellow winged ponies in the sky watching out for her. They’ll get her in no time.”
Crowhop galloped to the guard and shook his hoof rapid, up-and-down a lot. “Thank you, officer! You don’t know how much this means to us!”
The policeman was about to shoo the intrusive unicorn away, but the pegasus raised a hoof and said, “It’s alright, Hill.”
Hill crossed his arms, giving off a condescending smile. “You and your manners, Packed Heat.”
Sam, who’d just been watching everything unfold, raised his hand, defying whatever sense of shy courtesy he had. He didn’t hear the whispers and quiet gasps against him; all he did was ask, “Does she prank people a lot?”
“It’s her hobby,” the policeman replied casually, hands on his hip. Hill had a smiling face on, so that was one sign Sam wasn’t about to get arrested himself. “She usually doesn’t break the rules, but this isn’t like her.” Glanced at the ceiling, also. “She’s never gone so far as property damage before.”
Crowhop gasped and held Packed Heat by the foreleg, clinging onto him with eyes widened out of alarm. “Are you saying she broke our air con?!”
“That’s what the reports say,” replied the pegasus officer, relishing in the hug even though it could hinder him from responding to another emergency. Then again, one pair of open wings and he could be out of there….
“D-Does she wake people unannounced?” asked Sam, his second foray into the unknown limits of these officers.
“Sometimes,” Heat said, trying to politely nudge a petrified Crowhop away but absolutely failing to do so. Then, he smiled. “Why? Had a rude awakening this morning?”
Sam wanted to say “Yes”, but doubts were forming. What if that prankster was somepony else? He’d never been here before, and travel brochures surely didn’t come with a sample of regular harmless rascals to be wary of. So, to be certain, he stammered, “S-S-She’s…” tapped his chin, trying to remember the appearance of this floating clown. “She’s purple or violet, and her hair was, uh, forest green and brown, and...her cutie mark?” and realized neither of the officers were writing notes on it. Of course, they wouldn’t, but they were paying attention anyway—then, realizing he didn’t actually see her cutie mark in that tired wakefulness before, he admitted,“I-I didn’t get to see it.”
“She has spaghetti for her cutie mark,” the pegasus revealed, eliciting a snicker from some of the attentive crowd, “but the rest of your description matches up.”
Good to know a pegasus jolting random people awake was a normal around these parts.
Then, as if on cue, the crowd erupted into tons of questions, overwhelming the cops with questions. Where was Spaghetti Tree now? Was she apprehended or still in pursuit or now lost? Did they some vague idea why she’d escalated to damaging air-conditioning units? Would she face punishment behind bars or was a financial slap on the wrist an option for her?
In the midst of this controlled anarchy of questions, unknowns, and these authorities, Sam felt uneasy. Even with the police’s assurances that it’s merely the work of a local prankster who’d gone too far...even with that, Crowhop’s daunting suggestions didn’t seem far-fetched. Hadn’t there been a protest the night before? What if that was only the start of it?
With a full plate on his mind, Sam forgot his sandwich as he stood up and helped calm everyone else, with a chipper Crowhop waving her hooves about and telling all to “stay calm! Everything’s fine! We’ve got the cops on our side, and they’re very helpful in maintaining order!”
While Sam was miffed with the pony’s rather basic words and her sing-song voice, he let it be and just made sure everyone was back on their seats or at their lines.
It took the officers ten minutes to answer all questions and allay all concerns from the civilians. Once everything was fine according to Crowhop’s idea of it, the cops bade everyone farewell and a good day—oh, and to be on the lookout for Spaghetti Tree if she does escape.
Few minutes after that, everything had returned to former peace and tranquility...for the most part. The air-conditioning units were still broken, and in response to that, a couple human and Equestrian staff members lugged a box of portable air coolers and positioned them around in the room. It slowed the creeping rise in temperature, made it less noticeable.
While Sam and a few others went farther inside the bureau to check the roof and the units there, Crowhop became distracted by the sandwich leftover on the table. She looked left and right, made sure no one was looking, and proceeded to take a nibble out of the bread.
And then the cabbage. And then the lettuce. And then the potato.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the sandwich half-finished.
“Oh!” and blushed, putting a hoof to her flushed cheeks. “Heh-heh,” while levitating her phone in front of her face. She pressed some of the buttons with her hoof, letting her magic keep it afloat and steady. The number submitted, she placed it beside her ear and hear the familiar beeping.
Click!
“Hello!” a cheery voice aired from the other side. “This is Frost Flash of Hitch and Hop Repairs! How may I help you?”
“Oh, hi there!” Crowhop replied with equal cheerfulness, even hopping for a bit. “Well, you see, we’ve got a teensy-weensy problem with our air-conditioning….”
What—or, rather who—she didn’t notice was a mare sitting on a bench on the sidewalk. Unaffected by the scrutiny of the bureau’s outdoor guards, this pony turned her head to see Crowhop talking, moving her mouth with gasps and shouts and screams of joy. She could even hear some of those words through the closed doors.
“Heh.”
She then took out a wrench, turned it around with her hoof.
Then, she looked back at her newspaper.
In her paper-holding hoof were a few fliers for Equestrian repair services. Having heard “Hitch and Hop Repairs”, she discarded the rest and preserved the appropriate one in her grip.
“Time to tell the others in a minute,” she murmured to herself before turning the page, hiding the flier beneath an opinion article.
As the mare sat under the glare of the noonday sun, cars moving about and humans mingling with their other-worldly counterparts in their strolls through the city—as that mare sat there on the bench, her eyes glimmered, too.
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be respectful to others should he eat with a pony or another creature who couldn’t digest meat.
What about those who become say GRIFFINS or Abyssians, or DIAMOND DOG, who are exclusive carnivores?
Imagine some poor vegan who thinks all Equus are vegetarians!
The deer receptionist (who was also quite dear)
heh.
That might explain the bout of aggression right then.
I thought he was joking.
Why does Crowhop turn into a paranoid worry wart over the air conditioning going kaput?
some retractable wingblades for the pegasus.
Working on how to use primary feathers to hold a gun eh?
I'm kinda confused.
What does the air conditioning and the lights doing, SOMETHING have to do with a criminal being cased by the police? And the police came in with weapons drawn into a place they knew the criminal wasn't?!
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I THOUGHT police only drew their weapons if they'd already chosen to USE THEM.
“Does she prank people a lot?”
WHAT prank?! And they had weapons drawn for a pony they know isn't armed? (Implied if they're just a public nuisance.)
“She’s never gone so far as property damage before.”
What property did she damage?
“That’s what the reports say,”
What report? It happened seconds ago right? How were the police on the scene that fast!?
“D-Does she wake people unannounced?” asked Sam, his second foray into the unknown limits of these officers.
Huh?
It took the officers ten minutes to answer all questions and allay all concerns from the civilians.
So they're just there to keep the civilians calm (since they're not pursuing the prankster), and I assume they have other police dealing with the prankster, so WHY did they come in weapons drawn?!
What—or, rather who—she didn’t notice was a mare sitting on a bench on the sidewalk.
HUH!? I THOUGHT SHE WAS INSIDE!
as that mare sat there on the bench, her eyes glimmered, too.
Uhhhhhhh, she's a wanted criminal at this point, why the hell would she effectively out in the open?
9226860
Before I get into the replies, let me just say that I'm impressed with how long and detailed your comments are, Alex! I like critcism and people pointing out the mistakes I've done, so you've been pretty helpful. Now, on to what I have to say.
Starting with your previous comment:
While I may have goofed here and there, I don't think I have to show (or even tell) many of the things a character does. If Sam somehow has McDonald's food on his table and there's a McDonald's chain across the street, the implication is that he bought his food from there a short while ago.
This also goes for a couple other points here: I don't have to set up characters like Dark Roast and especially off-hand mentions like Downburst that most likely (though not discounting the possibility) won't be a major force in the story. On that thread, I can't just say "the pony barista" and "the breezie therapist" or other variations thereof. Sooner or later, I have to give the name because one doesn't just spend this much time with them without knowing at least a nickname. It's also for worldbuilding reasons.
Welcome to the Club of Editing Retcons! On a more serious note: I have a tendency to go back and polish up my chapters once in a while. The Uber driver introduced in The Keynote Speakers came off as clunky, and not having a name contributed to that. So, I gave him a name after the fact.
Granted, I've forgotten that those who don't have the time to re-read an updated chapter do get the short end of the stick.
Probably because McDonald's is cheap. From my experience, if I go far enough that I have to buy an airplane ticket, it's assumed I have to at least try some of the local stuff, not something you'd find easily back in my place like McDonald's. Of course, cost of living (and eating) in L.A. isn't that tolerable unless you're willing to settle for little more than the basics.
Simply put, Sam's either not so hot on the financial side of things or he's a tightwad.
It's Crowhop's way of saying she can't digest meat. Sorry I didn't really get the point across.
It hasn't always been their thing, sure, but now it is. It used to be everyone a hippogriff, and then everyone a seapony, and now with both options available, they all naturally split up. It'd be rare to find one of them with not a single friend or family member who at least switches over to the other side from time to time, so, in order to maintain relationships with all they know and love, they have to live as "two for one" species.
If we're talking about predatory behavior: They may be "based" on predators, but they don't have to act like predators. Think of it like how cats are nominally predators but don't have to pounce for food because there's a grocery store across the street where the owner buys cat food and fish.
If we're talking about just being able to eat meat: It's supposedly common knowledge at this point in this world that Abyssinians can eat meat.
That's honestly a goof from me, considering Los Angeles is partially known for its beautiful beaches and just hanging out there. An addition may be in order in this chapter.
Well, it was originally planned to be in this chapter, but, in hindsight, I guess it's better to leave that (and other options like merponies) out. Otherwise, I'd be turning a huge chunk of the chapter into Sam being Mr. Exposition.
However, I do like the idea of the dragon potion being a limited time option.
Wouldn't that be fun? If a lot of former humans move to Ponyville, the name would stick out like a sore thumb.
Which is why I qualified "another creature" with "who couldn't digest meat". That automatically excludes the griffons, the diamond dogs, and other carnivore species in the room.
Consider the fact that Crowhop faces some pressure and internal tension out of seeing Earth slowy become something else, how she's working at a place on which the people Los Angeles and the surrounding area will depend their survival on in the years to come. Couple that with her very energetic personality, and the air con going dead might mean a delay or people getting irritated, and with a delay—what if someone gets left out before the Veil comes over?—and with irritation—what if a violent incident happens in the bureau, giving it a bad name and then smearing it in the HLF's favor? In her hyperactive mind, these aren't just possibilities; they're real to her if everything doesn't go perfect.
My idea was to have tiny knives attached to their primary feathers, but that sounds nice, too!
Spaghetti Tree wasn't chased by the police at all until word quickly got around that she was causing trouble on the roof. Considering that pegasus patrols are a thing here, it wouldn't take long for a policepegasus to pursue her. Another thing, too: Since she's on the roof of the bureau, a place where no one just walks onto (for reasons found two paragraphs later), she'd already have gotten the attention of the police or at least the local guards. Granted, I may have been mentally absent on that front with the guards not saying anything at all before the police came, but that's how it is there.
Also, doing damage to the air-conditioning unit was Spaghetti's crime.
While my writing might be too vague on where the police's weapons were (I was thinking of them holstered), they're just sent there to calm everyone down. Considering that the bureau isn't exactly the most popular place to be (what with the HLF present and the protest that just happened the night before), the police see it as a hot spot that must be cooled down as soon as possible to curb any potential attacks or what have you there.
Spaghetti is a prankster. On a similar thread to what I've said before, I don't have to introduce every major player with establishing character moments. There are times when it's more appropriate to have a character be "hyped up", so to speak, by someone else. Even then, she's already been introduced (though stealthily) in Pitch In, First Place.
Also: She may be an unarmed pegasus, but that already makes her a formidable force. She has strength comparable to a regular horse's, she can fly and lunge at targets at high speeds, and can also dodge bullets if she's nimble/skilled enough—not to mention that, if the Equestria's pegasus guards are of any indication, her wings are pretty sharp and are natural blades in and of themselves (which makes Packed Heat's weapons sharper than those).
The police don't have to be on the scene to report. Once they see a crime, even if it's through a pair of binoculars, then something has to be done about it. The bureau is also a two-minute walk away from the LAX (Airplane Landing View Point is just across the street, for reference), so there'd be heightened police presence there, too.
OK, that "unknown limits" part is inexcusable on my part. Too flowery; too purple for the prose.
Ditto my bad vagueness and that they should be stated to be holstered.