• Published 3rd Nov 2020
  • 989 Views, 113 Comments

Barn Notice - totallynotabrony



My name is Octavia Melody.  I used to be a spy.

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Chapter 5

My mother answered the knock at the door to find Soarin there.

“Good evening, Ms. Harshwhinny,” he said. “You’re looking well tonight. I hope I could speak with your daughter.”

“And what business do you have with her, Mr. Soarin?”

Soarin wasn’t afraid of anything that I knew of. He didn’t cringe in front of my mother’s glare, but he did notably choose his words carefully. “She asked me to help her find a friend of hers.”

I managed to intercept them before the conversation went any further. “Ah, good, you're here, Soarin. Mum, I have to go, this could be important. Thank you for dinner.”

She caught me by the shoulder as I started to walk past her. “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know, mum.”

She stared at me for a long moment, and then pulled me into a hug. Of all close-combat moves, I should have expected it, but felt as surprised as a hooked fish and just as limp as one in her embrace.

She still smelled exactly like I remembered. Her jacket still used the same brand of starch. Her mane tickled my nose as it always had.

She pulled back after a moment. “It was good to see you, Octavia. Don’t be a stranger. I will see you tomorrow.”

An order, not a request. I nodded stiffly and followed Soarin out of the house.

“Jeeze, she never changes,” Soarin muttered as we walked away.

I looked at him sharply. “Exactly where did you meet her before?”

“Whoa!“ he lifted a hoof. “I know I have a certain reputation, but I assure you I have never had relations with your mother. Cross my heart. She used to do military inspections in Canterlot and the unit I was with passed under her illustrious gaze a time or two.“

I relaxed. I hadn't been accusing him, but it did put my mind at ease to hear him deny it anyway.

Rainbow was waiting a block away and fell in pace with us. Unlike Soarin, she hovered instead of walked with me. Maybe that was one reason my mother was always gouging her on professionalism.

“So we’re doing this?” she said.

“No reservations from me,” I replied. “Though, I want a thorough look at the intel first, tonight if we can.”

“Could we maybe do it tomorrow night?” she asked.

“A stallion’s been kidnapped. What could be so important to put this off?”

“Big Mac is going to be showing me some of this private collection and I don’t want to miss out on that.”

Based on what I had heard previously, and the way Soarin fake-retched, I said, “Rainbow, are you dating an arms dealer?”

Not that I cared, but it’s important to know where the members of your team stand with outside contacts.

“I like to think of him as... a hobbyist,” she replied.

“Well, I happen to be a little flush with cash. I suppose picking up a few items from his collection might not hurt. How about we go with you tonight?”

“How good is Mac’s eyesight?” Soarin asked. “Am I going to be able to get away with a fake mustache and calling myself Buck Wingley?”

“Not likely,” Rainbow laughed.

I laughed, too. “You’re still using that cover ID, Soarin?”

“Hey, Buck Wingley is forever.” He saluted with a feather and said, “I’m going to go set up a few things at my place. Meet up with me there after you get done at the farm, don’t let Rainbow spend too long there, and we can still get this done tonight.”

Rainbow and I headed for Sweet Apple Acres. We still didn’t know each other well enough to have much to talk about, but that only gave me time to observe her on the way. She fidgeted, and kept glancing back at me, apparently taking my trot as too slow. Too bad.

“How long have you known this Big Mac?” I asked.

“Oh, well I used to hang out with his sister a lot, and between the two of them, I eventually picked the one that had a penis.”

“I didn’t know your standards were so low.”

She glanced me up and down pointedly. “Not that you qualify.”

Not that I’d want to date somepony whose only standards were “male, preferably.”

I’d never seriously dated in my life. I’d never even really had relations with anypony outside my line of work. Relationships should not be built upon lies and deception, and I couldn’t be completely honest with any but a coworker, sometimes not even then. Said coworkers came and went, and occasionally had competing interests. At this point, I had conceded and lamented that I had picked the wrong employment for love.

That didn’t seem to limit Rainbow, or her beau. As a former resident of Ponyville, I vaguely remembered the name Big Macintosh. I knew Sweet Apple Acres, of course. They made excellent cider.

My first impression upon meeting Big Mac was that he did certainly live up to his name.

Big Macintosh
Big

He wasn’t much for talking, however. Or at least, he didn’t try to get a word in edgewise between Rainbow’s chatter. She kept up a monologue about Mac, guns, and herself, sometimes simultaneously, as Mac led us to the barn.

He apparently trusted Rainbow enough to not even ask who I was and began to display the goods. Throwing open a couple of heavy trunks revealed all sorts of war-issue surplus. He opened a few cabinets to reveal sniper rifles and shotguns. He opened a couple of false panels on the walls that were hiding automatic weapons. Rainbow swooned.

“We’re doing a rescue mission,” I said.

Mac started to reach for the belt-fed machine guns.

“Something with less collateral damage.”

He frowned and glanced at a rack of slightly smaller weapons.

“Not to draw attention to us.”

“Ah got explosives,” he said, speaking for the first time that evening.

Big Macintosh
The arms dealer

“This is more of a hobby for him, so you just pick what you want,” Rainbow advised me. “I’ll look at the explosives, though. Did you get a new shipment of C4, Mac?”

While she dove right back into her running commentary, I examined a few pistols, grabbed a familiar one, checked it over, and then loaded it and put it in my saddlebags.

When it comes to weapons, I’ve handled a lot in my line of work. The best gun out there is one that works. Certainly, I have favorites just like anypony else, but ultimately, one is better than none.

Blades, too, are certainly better to have than not. You should try to avoid knife fights, but you’re even more out of luck if you don’t even have a knife. Plus, a knife is useful for a lot of things: stripping wires, ropes, eating, the list goes on. I found a decent folding knife in the pile and added it to my saddlebags.

I was now equipped. Rainbow was still talking.

“Do you need anything else?” I called. “This may be quite dangerous, so I understand why you would want to stay here with a big, strong stallion to protect you.”

“Danger is my middle name!” she replied, subtly flexing. I’m not sure who she was attempting to impress. Certainly not Big Macintosh who outweighed her by at least double.

On the other hand, my suspicions of Rainbow being easy to manipulate through her ego were proving to be quite accurate.

We were moving again shortly, going to meet up with Soarin. Rainbow was still fidgeting, though had begun to relax the further she got from Mac.

Soarin seemed confident in her, but I still hadn’t seen her in action. I knew where I stood with Soarin. He may not have been a frontline soldier any more, but I trusted him. So with Rainbow, I couldn’t help but ask, “Have you done anything like this before? I don’t want to resort to a fight, but an operation like this may require speed and violence. Do you think you can handle that?

Rainbow gave me an insane grin that more than answered my question, but left me with others.

“I’m a Wonderbolt, remember?” she said.

“Yes, but are you fast?”

I knew she was fast. I’d heard of her before I met her, and if there was one single thing to know about Rainbow Dash, it was that she was fast. I was mostly trying to needle her to see how she reacted to criticism.

She didn’t take my bait, merely shrugging. “I’m faster than you.”

Maybe the negging teambuilding exercises she did with Soarin were actually worthwhile.

When the two of us arrived back at Soarin’s house, he’d prepared the briefing to orient us to the target area, drawing up a few vague sketches on cocktail napkins. The careless level of quality of the visual aids was slightly insulting, but I’d done more with less, and I appreciated him trying.

According to Soarin’s sources, there were a couple of known criminal groups in the area, such as PY-12, but the ponies who’d taken Rich apparently matched those of a group called the Third Street Thugs. An odd name, because Ponyville didn’t have a Third Street, but nothing to dwell upon. Their hideout was across the railroad tracks in the limited industrial zone that had apparently grown in the last few years.

At night, a place like that would be empty, all the better to spot ponies like us coming. When one couldn’t be stealthy, then the answer might be to go loud in a much different direction. A hole in a secret plot was best filled by marching a brass band through it.

“Do we know why they took him?” I asked, after we had finished our plan, which involved further scribbling on napkins.

“Best guess?” Soarin said. “Ransom.”

“Normally you don’t kidnap the pony who is the one that has the means to pay the ransom.”

“Well, if any luck, that means these guys are dumb.”

We could only hope.

The three of us headed for the hideout. It seemed to be some kind of old bulk cargo storage building for railroad use, but had been supplanted and surrounded by larger buildings. Our approach was stealthy and pre-coordinated. There might be the slightest chance that these so-called Third Street Thugs had seen my face before, since I had been at Filthy Rich’s house. Rainbow certainly was well-known about Ponyville. So instead of us, Soarin - or rather, Buck Wingley - knocked on the front door.

Rainbow and I headed for a skylight at the back of the building, her carrying me to the roof. I could already hear Soarin making a big deal at the front door, something about gas line inspections.

He seemed to have that under control, so I focused on my own task. Being basically a warehouse, the building was one large open area, though looking down through the dirty window I could see a few roomlike partitions had been made with old crates. From the overhead view, it was easy to spot Filthy Rich, tied to a chair and blindfolded.

I could hear Soarin at the door, apparently responding to the thugs’ irritation at the disturbance. “Hey, don’t give me guff for the timing. I wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night inspecting your utilities if it wasn’t a serious issue. Now I poked around the meter and these numbers are way off.” He tapped the prop clipboard he had brought.

One of the goons started to speak, but Soarin cut him off. “And another thing. You might want to consider getting the meter itself replaced. That model is so ancient I think I saw one carved on a stone tablet once. Who’s your primary payee for the monthly bills?”

It looked like Soarin was successfully drawing the group of thugs towards the front door. I opened the window and held it for Rainbow. She slipped inside and then caught me as I came after her. We dropped in next to Rich. That put the three of us behind a partition and out of sight of the door.

In a low voice, I said, “Mr. Rich, it’s Octavia. Please stay quiet. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“Wha-” he started to say, before remembering himself and clamming up again. I pulled the blindfold off and started working on the knots in the rope that bound him to the chair. Easy enough with the knife I’d picked up at Mac’s.

When he was loose, I walked forward to peep around the edge of the crate pile. Soarin was still talking, which I took to be a good sign. I waved to Rainbow.

She took Rich up through the skylight. He looked a little startled by the whole situation, but that was fine as long as we got him out. Rainbow was back in a few seconds to pick me up.

I was dropped off on the ground behind the building next to a wide-eyed Rich. “Let’s go,” I ordered, nudging him forward with my shoulder. He was still a little in shock at the quick turn around from captivity, but responded and I guided him away at a trot. Don't look at us, nothing suspicious, just out for a walk.

Rainbow departed, to signal Soarin. Rich and I kept walking.

As we passed under the lights of the train station, he finally said, “Well this was certainly unexpected, but I thank you very much, Ms. Octavia.”

I relaxed just enough to glance at him and smile briefly. “I couldn’t very well finish the job you gave me if you weren’t around.”

He chuckled quietly. There was still a trace of nervousness in his manner. Good. Caution kept you alive.

We were almost to Soarin’s place before Rich asked where we were going.

“Clearly, your house isn’t safe,” I said.

His eyes widened. “What about Diamond?”

“She’s with her mother.”

“Oh, Spoiled would have words with a kidnapper,” he said, mostly to his own amusement.

Rainbow and Soarin, being pegasi, had traveled faster and were already waiting when we got to the house.

“You know, if that had gone on much longer, I think I could have sold them on a new utility plan,” Soarin said.

“We’ll drop a tip to the Royal Guards, they’ll come to town and make some arrests, you can testify, and hopefully that will put this behind us,” I said to Rich.

“Why did they grab you, anyway?” said Rainbow.

“Well…” He hesitated. “That’s a little bit of a long story.”