We Get Diplomatic Immunity, Right?

by Pascoite

Chapter 2: Saturday

Creeping about in large warehouses after dark could unnerve just about any pony, even in the best of circumstances. But the best of circumstances didn’t involve the threat of muscle-headed goons also creeping about in large warehouses after dark.

And Berry rather thought she’d heard a noise.

Just outside her office, with the blazing lantern spilling light into a massive room it couldn’t hope to illuminate, Berry waited around the corner, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. In every direction, tall shelves holding a thousand ponies’ property extended into the night, and the grating of the mezzanine floor under her hooves made an uncomfortably loud ting with every step she took, unless she walked very slowly.

Only the draft whistled faintly in her ear, and please let that be a cobweb brushing her shoulder. Maybe that light would attract some very dumb moths, but hopefully not until she’d put a good distance between them. Unless she was just being paranoid.

From far in the darkness, a faint creak of wood sounded.

Great. Would they come after her or the merchandise first?

Around back of her office, a small staircase would give her a quick exit. It was hard to spot for anypony who didn’t already know it was there. And her pallets of barrels sat way on the opposite end of the building.

One step at a time, with agonizing care, she descended to the ground floor, but… she paused at the small door leading to the alley outside. A satisfying popping noise, then some shouted curses echoed in the distance—Berry couldn’t help chuckling. Yeah, she’d learned some tricks from her friends in retail. If only she could see their faces, but better to get out of here.

She eased the door open, barely a trickle of moonlight seeping in, and tripped the silent alarm. Nopony had taken the bait of that brightly lit office, but no matter. The Baltimare police would show up soon enough.

The door clicked softly shut again, and Berry started down the alley—

“Yer not leavin’ already, are ya?” a deep baritone rumbled.

An easygoing, matter-of-fact tone like that had never made Berry feel so cold before. “Oh, uh… hi there, Pile Driver. Who let you out of your cage?”

“Awww, you wasn’t gonna run, was ya? We’s just gettin’ started.”

She had tensed her legs. And she probably could outrun him. Except that the cold sting of a knife point now pressed to her neck. At least it would muffle his stupid voice.

“Inside,” he mumbled over the handle. Then down the interminable length of that warehouse he marched her, and any time she tried to start talking or slow her pace, the knife point poked at her again.

Finally, they got down to the crates labeled with Berry’s name, and—she had to stifle a laugh—another one of those thugs stood there, covered head to hoof with a sticky blue goop, a trail of the stuff leading from him back to the barrel he’d cracked open. Yes, Rarity had set her up with some of those exploding dye packs.

“By da way,” Pile Driver said through clenched teeth, “ya owe Strong Arm a new hat.”

This time, she did giggle audibly, which earned her another jab of the knife before Pile Driver gave her a rough shove forward. He waved toward the thousands of shelves they’d already passed.

“Now, where’s da real stuff?” he asked.

“Um… well, if you go down the main aisle—” she held a foreleg sideways and bent it “—then take the first… no, second right. Or was it the third?”

“Quit stallin’.” Ow! That had to be a little blood trickling down her neck. “And you get ta open da next barrel.”

Simpleton. All she had to do was keep a weapon with her stash, and she’d have them right where she wanted them. Except she hadn’t thought of that…

So she started walking back toward the office again, and if she’d figured average response times correctly, then right about when she was passing the main entrance—

The door burst inward with a flash of unicorn magic, and Pile Driver immediately flung the knife under some crates and took off running. He’d been to one of these dances before. Berry just sat to watch it all happen. A pegasus swooped over with a net and snared him not a dozen paces away, while two earth ponies tackled Strong Arm.

“Thank you, officers!” Berry gushed, effecting her best swoon. “Those ruffians tried to mug me, and…” The last two through the door had someone in cuffs between them.

Greased Palm. His dumb cutie mark, too: some oily tree. She’d never understood what in Tartarus that was supposed to mean. Either way, they’d gotten to him, somehow. And he’d ratted her out.

Gah! She should have expected that kind of treachery from him. Only yesterday, he’d—

Comments

[Cerulean Blue]

Woah. Looking forward to where this goes

[FanOfMostEverything]

Ah. I see you're going for nested flashbacks. This should definitely prove interesting.

[Pascoite]

9549524
I've never written a backward story before. Figured I'd give it a try.

[Bloody_Tofu]

Ohh. Tracked this sounds very interesting.

[Bojack H]

recursion recursion recursion

[Sozmioi]

9549444

… where this came from?