The Runaway Bodyguard

by scifipony

Chapter 41 — Long and Pink

"Follow," I said. "And you, into the skies. Mind your distance. I've only one stick left."

"Yes, Sir!" replied Crystal Skies. We'd learned the hard way that a city block was the limit of the spell, less if a building got in the way. As it had. Twice. I didn't like re-chewing a four stick chaw of, at this point, slimy spent gum. It made me queasy; like Pig Pen had observed, "Unsanitary."

It didn't occur to me to stop at a vending machine as we trotted out of the sparse commuter-rail building. I was keyed up.

I did my best, but there really were limited options. Fells Point was directly north across the bay, and the area was roughly an eight block grid. Not impossible to keep under surveillance, especially at night. I went east from Locust Park, crossed around the dockside rail yard, and took the pedestrian bridge under the highway across the bay. I took S. Clingtown Street north to Foster Ave, Fleet, and Eastern—going west until I could cut north and then west through the park. It was a quarter to five when it all went sideways.

We trotted down Bank Street, when I heard "Trouble," through my jaw from Crystal Skies. I turned left on Castle, then galloped to Spark, turning right, dashing west on Spark Court.

A charcoal grey pegasus mare with a blue-grey mane in a black constable uniform landed with a bang in the middle of the road.

Crystal Skies did the same beside me a second later. Both pegasi flared their wings—to make themselves look bigger.

Other constables came running, half earth ponies and half unicorns, along with a second pegasus, a pale blue one with a white mane landed, cutting off our retreat.

Before we could turn, there were eight total.

Nothing like having eyes in the sky. Shame that our air support wasn't as dark as the coppers.

I had Teleport queued. I sweated and it wasn't just the gallop. I could only teleport where I understood the vectors. The windows in the buildings were dark. Warehouses and offices were built to prevent prying eyes. I could get beyond either pegasus, but all things considered, a second Teleport would probably make me faint. If the first didn't do the job.

I huffed. "What the hay?" I said loudly.

A ninth constable, probably a lieutenant as he had a peaked hat, came galloping up with another officer trotting behind. This one wore a white shirt and a tan raincoat.

The lieutenant said, "Flank down, you four. You are under arrest."

A yellow aura formed around Citron's horn.

I rapidly put up a hoof to stop the colt, but a unicorn constable let off a red Force spell. It splashed a pony length in front of Citron, causing the dew between the cobbles to boil and hiss.

"No worries, guys," I said, keeping my voice deep and even—despite my racing heart and an odd need to hyperventilate that I struggled to control. Arrest might result in ponies learning who I really was. Under my breath, I added, "Let this play out. I think I can handle it."

Pig Pen whinnied in dismay. Everypony sat.

The earth pony detective—I decided that what he had to be—trotted up into the light of a street lamp. He took out a spiral notepad with the frog of a hoof from his coat, put a pencil in his mouth, then motioned with the pad at me.

I moved forward into the light, then sat again.

He looked scruffy and squinted with one eye. Grey fuzz gathered around his lower jaw in an imitation of thick moss. Best I could tell, he was a golden palomino, though judging from the color of his beard, I'd have wagered his slicked-back black mane was dyed.

He looked at his pad, looked at me, then back at his pad. "You must be, uh, Gelding?"

I subvocalized, "That's the game."

Crystal Skies: "What'll we do?"

"Cooperate. Trust me." I asked louder, "And what's your name?"

"Does it matter?" he asked.

I didn't like his answer. Mr. Nopony's game had a high ante. "If I lodge a false arrest complaint, it might."

He snorted, rolled his collar to show a copper badge that was too far away to read, then jerked the next page of his notes over. It didn't escape me that another unicorn constable trotted from Court onto Spark.

I changed tack. "What's the charge?"

"Carrying contraband. Transporting the same. Conspiracy."

"I see," I said calmly. I let my Teleport spell spin down and replaced it with Levitate. I pushed back my hood, but kept the spell going. I wasn't a foal.

"Do you want to surrender it?"

"Come again?"

"Surrender the contraband. Are you really a gelding? I mean, you don't seem to understand Equestrian all that well. A gelding is—"

"You can call me, Sir, if you prefer."

Crystal Skies sniggered.

The constables tensed up.

The detective shouted, "Search them!"

With that we were told to stand as eight constables patted us down. Pig Pen did have a nasty blackened steel chain, which from the sound of it hitting the cobbles had to weigh ten pounds. Citron had a pocket knife, one of those red jacketed ones with multiple pen knives, screw drivers, and a pliers. One constable pointed out a magnifying glass. Crystal Skies had naught. Didn't need one, and he did manage to inadvertently get a constable to cut open his foreleg when he checked his razor sharp feathers.

The constable checking my flank, looking under my tail, said, "Uh, Gelding doesn't have any."

"What? Really?"

"Sorry, sir. He's a she. Definitely a she. Not an illusion."

Another piped up and said, "The waitress is a cross-dresser, too."

I said under my breath, "Am I good or what?"

Crystal Skies replied, "Shut it!"

The detective stepped closer, but remained on the opposite side of the circle of light from the gas lamp. The constable flipped aside my cloak to display my grimoire cutie mark while the other removed my saddle bags. The detective examined my flank and tail-end longer than was strictly necessary. I rotated my rear toward the detective and moved my tail aside, just to make it more embarrassing for all that looked. As if I could care two horse apples whether they looked or not.

The stallion running the show watched as the unicorn constable emptied my saddlebags on the sidewalk. The box slid out.

The detective said, "That. Contraband."

I said, doing my best to sound exasperated and annoyed. "Please don't."

"Don't, what?"

"You really don't want to look."

The detective rolled his eyes, then jerked his nose toward the box. "Constable Beigneigh?" The one with the peaked hat.

I said, "I warned you."

Beigneigh's aura surrounded the box, but he hesitated.

"Really? Are you a crazy pony or just a failed comedienne?"

I shrugged. "Well. It's embarrassing. Just saying."

The detective sighed. He motioned with his muzzle and the constable, a lieutenant as I could see a gold bar on his hat, ripped open the lighter end of the box. Though the content of the box was sturdy, it had been packed tightly to prevent damage. The unicorn struggled with it, and it made a slithering noise as he revealed something long.

He stopped when everypony could see a symmetrical vaguely mushroom top. Even in the dim light, it became obvious the thing inside had a fleshy pink color.

Long.

Fleshy pink.

Gelding... was a she.

"Um. Sir?"

I chimed in with, "I told you it was embarrassing."

Becoming flustered, the detective said, "Open the stupid thing!"

The fellow ripped the box along the inside glue seam, revealing...

A bottle of Petites-filles, a bottle of overpriced mane conditioner from Prance. I'd read it smelled like roses and honey, and left a mare's mane incredibly silky. Truly, I did miss some aspects of living the life of a countess and being pampered. And, I had told you I'd run through my bits, right? Wonder how? The package had arrived by late post today and I'd been too busy preparing for today's mission to bring it in.

Despite the danger, I reached for the discarded box. The shock of seeing the conditioner bottle was so total, that even as I rotated the waste cardboard around, nopony said boo.

I said, "You see? The address? 'To Gelding.'" I slapped ends of the cardboard to make noise. "We were taking it to Aunt Hairpin as a present. She always took care of me and my friends and I thought—"

"Open it. What's in it?"

The lieutenant cracked the seal. Soon I could smell roses and... a hint of honey.

Grumbling, I said, "You're going to have to pay for that."

The verdict came back, "I think it's probably mane conditioner." He even tasted it, then wrinkled his muzzle and spat. "Nope. Definitely mane conditioner. Doesn't taste at all like it smells."

The detective grabbed the box and looked at address label. He compared it to his notes and lifted his pencil to write something.

I interrupted him. "I'm going to need your name now."

"Silence! Constables. She dropped the real package. Briquette, take Ceil and retrace their path to where they realized we'd spotted them. Check the rooftops in case their pegasus dropped it there. Check the curbs and gutters, too. I want that package!"

"What does it look like?" somepony asked.

The detective's face reddened as he shouted, "That box! Like that box."

The detective then locked his green eyes with mine. "Where'd you drop it?"

I rearranged my cape, hiding my fake cutie mark. It hadn't even smudged. "Drop what?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Now you're harassing a citizen going about her business. I'm adding that to my list!"

I kept my eyes fixed with his.

He did not win that game.

He stomped off and talked to some other constables. I took the cardboard and frowned. I really needed the box to be intact. I screwed on the top of the Petites-filles and looked at the bottle. It kind of resembled stallion parts, but you would have to have a warped mind to think that.

I realized I was chewing on spent gum. It really wasn't that sticky, but being bubble-gum, it was somewhat sticky. In the lamp light, you could barely see the fading sparkles when it came out of my mouth. I took the minutes as I waited and pieced the box together. They'd opened my compacts and dropped my brushes in a pile, but I would have bet real bits none connected the makeup with my cutie mark. The gum held—with the addition of the left-over strip of gum, which wasn't needed anymore. A couple of hair ties made it more secure.

I pealed off the mailing label, and got 90% of it, dropping it in a waste can.

The lieutenant watched me and my homies. Finally, I said, "I really am going to want his name and badge number. It's his case, I presume? Do I need to hold anypony else responsible?"

The officer found his own notepad and scribbled down the badge number, which resembled what I could make out of the copper badge flashed at me earlier. He gave me the page.

"Detective Land Hover? Must have an interesting cutie mark."

"A flying disc. Like a boomerang, just round."

"I see." I dropped the page in my saddlebags and scraped in the coins, makeup, and brushes after it.

"Gelding?" He asked in return.

"It's a verb."

The sun had risen by the time we continued west on Eastern Street.

Author's Note:

Next: It ain’t over. A room with unicorns is a room of ponies with fire arms...

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Comments

[dystopia8]

This chapter was fantastic! That's one way to deal with the constables.

[scifipony]

11107066
The mane conditioner scene also appears in Love, Friendship, and Gangsters, from Crystal Skies’ (differently biased) POV.