Due Process
So they started hiking across the mountainside, initially heading away from the road then onto a roundabout path taking them back closer to civilization. They reasoned to themselves—albeit reluctantly since they knew the inherent danger—that they were more likely to find the tools they needed that way. In normal circumstances it would be a more than manageable hike that Goldengrape might have even enjoyed, however their bindings hindering their movements wasn’t helping. It made him appreciate why Greta wanted removing them to be their first priority, because they really were in the way. They repeatedly stumbled over them more than once, and since they were chained together, if one of them stumbled, the other did too. But these bindings also meant they couldn’t ever go more than five feet apart from each other.
…resulting in an awkward problem partway in when last night’s burritos finally had their revenge on Greta.
Things had been quiet for a few minutes when the silence was broken by Greta’s belly making a disturbingly angry burble. When she tensed and rubbed at it, Goldengrape turned concerned.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s those darn burritos,” Greta admitted, looking like she regretted her binge from the evening before. “They’re wreaking havoc with my insides and obviously I haven’t had the chance to do anything about it.” She grimaced again, coming to a stop when it didn’t let up. “Yeah, sorry, Grapes, but I really need to make a pit stop…now.”
Goldengrape bit his lip in sympathy and started moving to give her privacy. “Well, okay, go find something to duck behind and…” he stopped when the chains binding them rattled. “Wait a minute, no, Greta, we’re still chained together.”
“Yeeeeeaaaah, that’s why I was apologizing,” Greta admitted with a wince, having already foreseen this. “However we do this, you’re gonna be stuck nearby for it.”
It was a thought neither of them relished. Nonetheless, they hastily puzzled out how to grant her as much privacy as possible. Ultimately, a particularly tall bush allowed them to drape the chain binding them overtop it so Greta could be on one side while Goldengrape sat on the other, trying to ignore the unpleasant noises that followed. It was imperfect, but it worked.
“Oooough, stupid burritos,” Greta groaned from behind the bush after a few minutes of this.
“You…going to be okay?” Goldengrape asked uncertainly. He could only see the top of her head over the top of the bush but he still kept his back turned as an added precaution.
“Yeah, I’ll live,” Greta wearily replied back. “It’s just all a real mess and…” she trailed off for a moment. “…well, you really don’t want to know.”
“No, I probably don’t,” Goldengrape agreed, already having enough trouble keeping his mind off the gristly details.
Greta grunted again in agreement. “Anyway, the worst is over now, so just give me a sec to clean up and then we can be on our way again.”
He caught sight of Greta plucking a pawful of leaves from off the bush and tried to not think about why. Attempting to distract himself while waiting, he focused on the mildly forested terrain in front of him before, a moment later, suddenly perking up.
“Wait, hold up!” Goldengrape declared, pointing through the trees at something squarish just barely visible behind it. “Doesn’t that look like a building to you?”
Greta poked her head over the bush and squinted her eyes. “Yeah…yeah, actually, it does!”
Once Greta had finished, they cautiously moved closer, revealing a small cabin built mostly from cobblestone. It’d clearly been built to stay isolated from Canterlot still further up the mountain while also sustaining itself as needed. However, it was also rustic enough that it was doubtful it’d been built with too large a funding. The facts its layout was very uniform and reminded him somewhat of a small-town post office made Goldengrape wonder if it’d been government sanctioned.
“I think it’s a ranger station,” he concluded as they cautiously sized up the structure, leery of anyone inside who might want to turn them in. It was hard to tell because the blinds were pulled closed over every visible window.
But that concern faded when Greta eagerly pointed out a sign on its front declaring it to be closed. “And at the moment it’s vacant!” she declared, moving closer.
“Yeah, but for how long?” Goldengrape asked as he followed her to the main entrance, which appeared to be through an attached sunroom. “For all we know, the ranger assigned here could be back anytime from weeks to minutes.”
“Maybe, but there’ll be things we can use here and we’re probably not going to get a better opportunity,” Greta pointed out as they stepped up to the sunroom’s exterior door. “We’ll just have to be quick.” She tried to open the door only to find it was locked. “…or not.”
Goldengrape leaned in closer, trying to examine the interior side through its window. “Looks like there’s a hook lock keeping it closed,” he said.
“Oh, well, I can work with that,” Greta said, and she started searching through the woodland debris littering the area, looking for something in particular.
Goldengrape stayed at the door, partly to stay out of her way but also as an anchor, using their being chained together to keep her from wandering too far. “You aren’t thinking about breaking in, are you?” he asked in concern.
“I’m not breaking anything,” Greta assured as she searched. “I’m just going to finagle the lock a little.”
“I’m pretty sure the police will take just as much issue with us finagling and entering, Greta,” Goldengrape pointed out. Still, he didn’t really stop her because he knew she was right—if this ranger station had anything that could help them, it’d be foolish to pass it up.
“Ah-ha, this should work,” Greta declared finally as she found a particularly thin sliver of wood and returned to the door. Slipping it into the door jamb, she wiggled it around until it caught the hook and managed to flip it up. Once she had, the door swung open easily enough, granting them access. “Ta-da!” she declared as they filed into the cramped sunroom. It seemed like the rangers used it mostly for storage.
Goldengrape tried the next door leading into the actual house but it was also locked, this time with a more complicated tumbler lock. “Well, we’re not getting any further than this,” he noted.
“Don’t need to,” Greta said, having instead gone to a tool table at one end of the sunroom and gleefully held up a hacksaw. She motioned to Goldengrape with her free paw. “Here, give me your hooves.”
Uncertain, Goldengrape held up his forehooves. Greta pushed them down onto the table and lined up so to start cutting the cuffs binding them. Goldengrape tensed at how dangerously close that put the hacksaw’s blade to his flesh. “Please be careful!” he pleaded.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing here!” Greta assured as she cut. Instead of trying to cut through entirely, she focused on just sawing through the latch keeping it closed. A moment later and with a soft pop, the first cuff fell open, freeing Goldengrape’s right hoof. “See? Easy! Now relax!” She then started on his left hoof’s cuff. “You know, despite us being practically joined at the hip all morning, I still don’t really know that much about you,” she said, making small talk. “So…how long have you been living in Canterlot?”
“Only about a month, actually,” Goldengrape replied, watching her cut, “so to sell smoothie recipes to businesses. I’m from Ponyville originally.”
“Oh hey, we actually passed through there on our way here,” Greta noted. The next cuff popped open so she turned to the pair on the earth pony’s hindlegs and frowned. “Okay, these next two are going to be a little more awkward, but know I’m just cutting through the cuffs and nothing else, okay?” Then, scarcely waiting for Goldengrape’s consent, she ducked down between his back legs to start cutting. “You make your own smoothie recipes?” she asked, probably using the small talk to keep him distracted from this awkward position.
“It’s…kind of my special talent,” Goldengrape explained. “And since ponies back home really seemed to like what I was creating, I figured…well…”
“…might as well make it lucrative,” Greta finished with an approving grin. There was a pop as another cuff was cut open. “So at the diner, that smoothie you made me, was that one of your recipes?”
“It was, actually, one of my personal favorites.”
He felt Greta nod to herself. “I can see why—I rather liked it myself.”
Goldengrape smirked. “Yeah, I did notice you’d gotten yourself another before leaving.”
Greta shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “So why not make your own business out of it instead of working through somebody else’s?”
Goldengrape shrugged back. “Running a business of my own costs money. Hay, just getting it started requires more bits than I currently own. So…”
“…you’ve been saving up,” Greta concluded as the final cuff came free and she straightened again. “I get you. Well, when you get it running, mail me a couple of coupons or something okay?”
Goldengrape laughed as he turned around to face her. “I’ll remember,” he promised.
“Great!” Greta said before handing him the hacksaw and putting her own forepaws on the table, exposing their cuffs. “Your turn now.”
“…ah,” Goldengrape hesitated, swallowed, then carefully lined up the hacksaw to start sawing through its latch.
He was terrified of letting the blade slip and accidentally cutting Greta, but before he knew it the latch popped open, freeing Greta’s left paw. “See, Grapes?” she praised encouragingly, “Nothing to it!”
“…right,” Goldengrape replied, not as certain, but nonetheless reassured, he turned his attention to the next cuff. Partway through sawing and feeling Greta’s blue eyes on him, he cleared his throat and decided to try and continue the small talk. “Sooo…” he began awkwardly. “What brings you to Canterlot?”
“I told you before—business, remember?”
“Yeah, but coming all the way here from Griffonstone to meet with an investor that only shouted at you doesn’t seem worth the trouble, you know?” When Greta’s right paw came free of its respective cuff, he looked up at her. “Besides, you came with a group of other griffons.”
Greta pursed her beak thoughtfully as she flexed her freed forepaws. “You got me there,” she said before looking him in the eye. “Are you going to be okay getting the hindpaws or are we going to have to think of something else?” When Goldengrape hesitated, staring back at Greta’s hind end like he was only just thinking of that, she smirked. “Then again earlier we were in bed together, so this is probably nothing in comparison to that, right?”
Goldengrape scowled. “That does not count,” he complained.
“Then neither should this,” Greta reminded slyly, patting him on the withers. She then tugged at the collar of her prison jumpsuit. “Besides, this currently has everything covered up back there, so it’s not like you’re going to catch sight of anything you didn’t ask to.”
For a split second Goldengrape found his mind envisioning it anyway before mentally giving it a bap with a psychic rolled-up newspaper, scolding it for being a bad brain. “Oh, let’s just get it over with,” he then concluded and took position behind Greta’s hindlegs before he got second thoughts. He felt her tail drape over him, making him wonder if it was on purpose before deciding to just focus on sawing her cuffs.
He was so focused on this that he nearly forgot their original conversation until Greta got back on topic. “You’re right, though,” she began abruptly, “Me and the others didn’t all come up here for Greg. In fact, I was the only one dealing with Greg since I’m the team accountant.”
“Team accountant?” Goldengrape repeated as another cuff popped free. He watched Greta reflexively stretch that paw in response before turning to the next one.
“Yeah,” Greta continued above him. “See, we’re the Griffonstone boffyball team, or at least the others are. I just manage their funds—again, accountant.”
“Boffyball?” Goldengrape blinked in surprise. He started to lift his head but caught himself before he inadvertently put it somewhere he figured Greta wouldn’t want it. “I thought boffyball isn’t really played in Equestria, much less Canterlot.”
“It’s not, and it’s the off season anyway,” the griffoness admitted. “But a friend of a friend of Gilda’s set us up to play a private game for some of your nobility in hopes it’d help drum up interest and land us an Equestrian sponsor. That’s really why we came to town, and it seems it was worthwhile because things went well, hence the team’s celebrating last night.”
“Except for you,” Goldengrape reminded, as the last cuff came free and he hurriedly scooted out of the awkward position under her. “All because you met with Greg who…”
“…was a real jerk to me, yeah.” Greta sighed. “And thanks to that, that probably got us into this mess now.” She unfolded one of her wings as far as its bindings allowed, enough to place the bound part on the table. Goldengrape, getting the unspoken prompt, started sawing through the canvas straps. “I sort of wish I hadn’t met with him at all. It was not worth…all this.”
“I still don’t understand why someone went to all the trouble of framing us for his murder,” Goldengrape grumbled as he cut through the first wing’s bindings easily enough and moved to do the same with the other.
“Well, if we can get into Greg’s office and find anything useful, hopefully we’ll learn more,” Greta commented as she shifted positions so to aid his cutting.
“Easier said than done though,” Goldengrape said with a snort. He looked up at Greta. “But I sort of have to envy how composed you’ve been compared to me. You don’t seem nearly as scared about this.”
Greta, however, unexpectedly let out a sharp and sarcastic laugh at that. “It’s cute you think that,” she said. As she glanced at him, the guard he hadn’t realized she’d been keeping up this whole time suddenly dropped, revealing to his shock the very frightened griffon hiding underneath. “But honestly, Grapes? I’m terrified this won’t work out and, worse, that there won’t be anything I could do to stop it.”
Stunned, Goldengrape stopped cutting for a moment, surprised she’d revealed this so clearly. “You’ve gotten us this far though,” he pointed out in reassurance. “That’s way more than I could’ve done. If it weren’t for you…well…let’s be honest, I probably would’ve let the police throw me into prison without protest and not gotten anywhere.”
“Aw, you underestimate yourself, Grapes,” Greta replied. “Your cautiousness is probably what’s kept me from just recklessly charging in deeper.” She averted her gaze. “Besides…I’m kind of the one who got you into this, so…I’m sure as heck doing everything I can to get you back out of it.”
Touched, Goldengrape looked at her thankfully. “Well, that just makes it all the better I ended up in this with you,” he said as he resumed cutting. “Because I feel confident that if anyone will do it…it’ll probably be you.”
Greta grinned at that, but it was short lived. “I still need to stress that I can’t guarantee anything here. There is a real chance getting into Greg’s office won’t pan out for us.”
At that point the final strap binding Greta’s wings snapped. Goldengrape stepped back in momentary surprise when she used that chance to give her freed wings a stretch—they were bigger than he thought. “So…what do we do if it comes to that?” he asked while taking a deep breath.
“Assuming the police doesn’t catch us?” Greta shrugged. “Get as far from here as we can and start new lives somewhere else I guess.” She looked to Goldengrape, facing him now that they were free of their bindings. “I don’t know, where would you want to go?”
Goldengrape blinked, considering the question. “Well…I have kind of always wanted to see Trottingham,” he admitted.
“In the Griffish Isles?” Greta hummed to herself before smirking. “Then Trottingham is where we’d go!” She then gave the yellow stallion a playful nudge. “Maybe you can set up your smoothie place there and make a killing selling them.”
Goldengrape chuckled. “And maybe you can help manage the accounting side of it,” he replied, nudging her back.
Greta chuckled too. “You know, you’re a good guy, Grapes,” she said. She then gave him a teasing look. “Of all the creatures I could’ve woken up in bed with this morning…I’m glad it was you.”
“Well…” Goldengrape replied, abashed, “not that we actually did anything in that bed.”
“True, that,” Greta said, making a small wistful smile that he didn’t know how to interpret.
She didn’t speak on it further, so rather than press the subject he set down the hacksaw and thought about what they’d need to do next. “Well, we’re out of our bindings now, so…what’s next?”
Greta looked back at him and smirked confidently. “First, start stripping.” When Goldengrape gave her a bewildered look, she motioned to the orange jumpsuit he still wore. “If we’re really going to sneak into Greg’s office, then we’re going to need to get back into Canterlot.” She tugged at the collar of her own jumpsuit again. “And I don’t think either of us wants to do that while wearing these.”
Both of them undressing while inside that little sunroom was…troublesome…but they managed.
They also found a pair of duffle coats inside a chest, both with hoods that obscured their faces, long enough to cover their bodies almost fully, and otherwise ideal as cover for avoiding immediate attention. Of course, the coats weren’t theirs to take, something Goldengrape was especially conscious about, so he got Greta to agree on leaving an anonymous note saying they were “borrowing” them for a while and would try to return them as soon as they could. Otherwise, they worked to leave no trace they’d been there. Greta even took the broken cuffs, chains, and prison jumpsuits, rolled them up into a ball, and threw them off the mountainside as hard as she could (something she did with great glee) so anypony returning to the ranger’s station wouldn’t have any evidence of who’d been here or why save their note.
With that all done they set off again, and now that they were free of their bindings made much faster progress. Nonetheless, as Canterlot loomed closer, the more nervous Goldengrape became, afraid of going back where they were wanted criminals. What if the police discovered them before they got to Greg’s office? Or whoever was trying to frame them? Unable to answer either question, he began realizing just how far in he was the closer they got to Canterlot.
To minimize detection, they reentered the city via a secluded nature path leading into it. Goldengrape wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find once there, but it was probably along the lines of police ponies actively searching the streets for them because surely by now they had discovered they’d escaped. But instead, Canterlot seemed perfectly normal, with everypony going about their business as usual. Nobody even really paid too close attention to them. Not that they were trying to draw attention—quite the opposite in fact—and they kept their distance from most passersby where they could. But it was nonetheless heartening to see that, to most everybody they passed, they didn’t seem to be anyone out of the ordinary.
Nonetheless, it was nerve racking walking through the streets of Canterlot, forever on edge for the one creature who would bat an eye at them. Goldengrape continuously second-guessed everyone they passed, eyes constantly darting around in fear. Tellingly, Greta was visibly tense, and he noticed she silently but pointedly did everything in her power to stay by his side, keeping him close. At first he thought she was just doing it out of fear, taking reassurance in his company as a known ally, but then he wondered if she was doing it so to actively protect him rather than the other way around…
In any case, they made it to the unflatteringly ordinary office building Greg had worked at with surprisingly little event, and that actually bothered the both of them. “This has been way easier than I thought it would,” Greta murmured aloud as they stepped up to the building.
“Should we be concerned about that?” Goldengrape whispered back, surveying the area for anyone that seemed suspicious, but as it’d been the whole time they’d been back in the city, everyone seemed perfectly normal and ambivalent towards them.
“…I don’t know,” Greta admitted. “But we best stay alert, just in case.”
Entering the building, they found its open floor lobby moderately busy for the now late afternoon hour. The staff wore your typical office dress, but many of their clients coming to and from were dressed more casually, so Greta and Goldengrape coming in wearing duffle coats wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was a bit harder to keep their distance from anyone in here though, so they were eager to keep going to their destination.
“Where’s Greg’s office?” Goldengrape whispered to Greta.
Greta pointed a talon upwards. “Top floor,” she replied and glanced in the direction of the building elevator in time for a group of waiting ponies to enter it. “But let’s take the stairs. Nobody ever uses the stairs, so less chance of bumping into anyone there.”
So, trying to walk discreetly but also casually enough to not raise suspicion, they headed to the stairs entrance and slipped through its door. As hoped, it was devoid of anyone, so it was a fairly quick and uneventful climb straight to the top floor where they exited back into a quiet corridor lined with offices. From there, it was just a short walk around the nearest corner and they were before the door to their destination. It was impossible to miss—printed in big letters on the door’s large frosted window was the words “GREG GRIFFON, GENERAL INVESTOR,” making it clear who its owner had been.
“This is it,” Greta declared before trying the latch. Perhaps expectedly though, the door proved to be locked.
“I don’t suppose you know how to lock pick?” Goldengrape asked hopefully.
The chestnut brown griffoness sighed. “Ironically enough, no. Literally every other griffon I know does, but of course I never took the time to learn.” She stepped back to examine it all for a moment, debating her options. Eventually, though, her gaze settled not on the door itself but the rectangular window sat directly above it. “That transom window looks like it can be opened, though. If it’s not locked, then maybe we can…” She trailed off as, with a running jump, she grabbed the window’s ledge and pulled herself up to it. She experimentally pushed and pulled for a moment before successfully starting to inch it open, swinging it outwards from a hinge at its top. When it was opened as far as it would go, she dropped back down and pointed a talon up at it. “You think that if I give you a boost you can squeeze your way through? You’re smaller than me, so you’d have the better chance.”
Goldengrape gazed up at the open transom window, gauging the size of the space. It’d be a tight fit, but it seemed just big enough to do it, so much so he wondered if the window had been designed for something like this, albeit only in emergencies. “Well, I guess I’ll give it a shot. It’s not like we’ve got an alternative at the moment anyway, do we?”
“We do not,” Greta confirmed, stooping down so he could use her back as a stepping stool. “Just watch where you place those hooves on your way up, mmkay?”
Goldengrape nodded as he carefully climbed onto her back then stood steady as she straightened to her full height, lifting him up closer to the open window. Grabbing the open ledge, he lifted himself up to it then started wiggling through head first. He quickly regretted that decision when realizing, about halfway through, he hadn’t left himself a safe way to drop back down.
“Okay, hold up, I may need to rethink how I’m doing this,” he murmured aloud, pausing to ponder the dilemma.
But then Greta suddenly whipped her head around, catching sight of an approaching shadow at the other end of the hallway. “Droppings!” she cursed in a hiss. “Someone’s coming our way!” She turned back to Goldengrape hanging halfway through a window and made an instant decision. “Sorry in advance for this, Grapes!”
Goldengrape then felt her plant her talons onto his rump and give it a hard shove. Caught off guard, this roughly forced him the rest of the way through the window. He had just time enough to twist his body sideways before flopping into the office floor instead of neatly landing on his hooves as preferred. Aching from the impact, he just stayed there for a moment recovering, which worked just fine because by then whoever was approaching had arrived at the other side of the door.
“Oh, hello,” he heard the apparent mare remarking to Greta as she strolled past. Goldengrape could just make out her outline as a unicorn through the door’s frosted window. She seemed totally unaware of what they were up to. “You look like you’re lost…do you need help getting somewhere?”
“No, no,” Greta quickly reassured—Goldengrape could just envision her standing there and trying to feign innocence. “I think I’ve just about figured it out so I won’t keep you.”
The mare appeared to shrug. “All right, suit yourself.” She then continued on her way. A moment of anxious silence passed.
“I think she’s gone,” Greta finally murmured softly, glancing in the direction the mare had left before turning around to face the door. Even through the frosted window, Goldengrape could see her shooting him a teasing smirk. “You okay?” No doubt she’d heard him fall.
“…I’ll live,” Goldengrape groaned as he picked himself up. Giving his sore but not critically injured body a shake, he opened the door, allowing Greta to quickly slip inside.
Throwing back their hoods, they stopped to take in the office. As offices go, it was fairly standard. A desk was placed at one end with a couple of chairs before it for visiting clients, while a black and modern looking couch sat against the opposite wall. A stout bookcase was next to the door and a trio of filing cabinets stood in a row beside another window, this one overlooking the street outside. A black safe was also placed directly underneath that window, apparently doubling as a makeshift shelf given everything stacked atop it. There was even a tall potted plant that Goldengrape quickly deduced with a frown was fake, which felt insulting to his earth pony heritage but they weren’t there to critique Greg’s décor choices.
He didn’t know where to start. “So now what?” he asked.
“Well, everything still seems to be where it was when I was last here,” Greta noted as she stopped to quickly unfasten her duffle coat, revealing her front and belly. She pointed at the safe in the corner. “Most likely what we’re looking for is in there, so we’ll start with it.”
Goldengrape glanced at it skeptically, particularly eying its unusual looking tumbler lock. “I thought you said you didn’t know how to pick locks,” he remarked.
“I don’t!” Greta reaffirmed happily as she moved closer to the fake potted plant instead of the safe.
Goldengrape scratched at his powder blue mane in puzzlement, not following. “Then I don’t understand how you intend to open it, unless you plan to break it open.”
“Nope, I think I’ve got a better way,” Greta said as she shuffled around the plant for a moment. “Ah-ha!” she said and straightened again, looking smug as she held up a solitary key dangling from its ring.
Goldengrape blinked, surprised. “How did you know that was there?” he asked as Greta finally approached the safe.
“When I was here last night, Greg pulled from the safe some documents to shove in my face,” Greta explained as she used the key to work the lock. “When doing so, he wandered over near that plant, made like he was examining it for a second, before conveniently coming away with the key already in talon. So I figured he had at least a spare hidden somewhere around it, it was just a matter of finding it.”
She opened the safe and they peered inside, but its contents were disappointingly routine. There were only two shelves, the top most containing stacks of papers in corresponding manila folders while the bottom contained a simple lockbox. Greta pulled out the folders of papers and started sorting through them. Stealing a peek over her shoulder, Goldengrape noted they all appeared to be various monthly financial records for Greg’s current investments. Greta stopped when she found the records for the Griffonstone boffyball team and scoffed.
“See, all of these numbers are well into the black for this past month!” she griped, motioning to the listed numbers Goldengrape only somewhat understood. “No red anywhere!” She rolled her eyes as she flipped to the next record with a sigh. “I don’t know why Greg was acting like it wasn’t, it’s not like he was in crippling debt or—oh!”
She stopped on the next record and stared at it in stunned silence for a moment. Goldengrape quickly saw what made it so different from the previous one. “That’s…a lot of red,” he noted in concern.
“Yeah,” Greta agreed, her spotted brow furrowing as she skimmed over the numbers. “Seems Greg was trying to run a side business selling goods…but according to these numbers, he spent way more on the product than he was making back selling it, and it looks like it was only getting worse. He really was losing money, like a sieve, and he didn’t seem to be having much success turning it around.” Her eyes suddenly widened, inhaling in realization. “That’s why he ripped me a new one last night! He must’ve been banking on the profits he got from the team to make up the difference and was upset we weren’t giving him the amounts he needed soon enough!”
“But just what’s he been trying to sell that was costing him so much?” Goldengrape asked.
“Um,” Greta began as she checked the records again. “Apparently a whole lot of…shift pot…whatever that is.” She glanced at Goldengrape. “I dunno, you have any idea what shift pot could be?”
Goldengrape decided to look at it literally. “Maybe…he’s moving pots and pans?”
“No, no, no,” Greta said, shaking her head and showing him the document. “See, look how he wrote it, it’s definitely an abbreviation. I just don’t know what it’s abbreviating.” She leaned on the side of the safe as she puzzled it out aloud. “Hmm, what could pot be short for? Pottery? Potatoes? Potassium?”
While she was doing that, Goldengrape turned back to the safe, wondering if there were any more clues. Eying the lockbox on the bottom shelf, he pulled it out and gave it a shake. When it distinctly rattled from the several bits contained inside, he concluded Greg probably used it as a makeshift cash register for transactions. Since the money within wasn’t his to mess with though, he opted not to open it for now and proceeded to put it back where he found it. In doing so, he accidentally bumped the box on the safe’s floor and was surprised to hear it produce a hollow sound. Setting the lockbox aside, he tapped his hoof on it so to confirm.
“Greta, I think this safe has a false bottom,” he deduced, drawing her attention as he ran his hooves along the edges of the bottom panel, trying to find the way to remove it.
Eventually finding the right concealed notch, he was able to pop it out and reveal the hidden compartment underneath, containing a plain black case with a piece of tape on top marked simply “SAMPLES.” Exchanging puzzled looks, they pulled the case out and placed it on Greg’s desk so to study it better. Opening it revealed six sets of vials slotted in pairs within fitted foam. All of the vials were filled with a small dosage of liquid, but one in every pair contained a faintly purple colored liquid while the other’s was clear but oily. Even odder was a bag full of what appeared to be shed hairs tucked to one side.
Greta pulled one of the purple vials out and held it up to the light. “What the heck do you suppose these are for?” she asked.
“I can tell you they’re magical,” Goldengrape replied and pointed. “Look, you see that faint sparkling in the liquid? That’s a sure sign it’s been imbued with a notable amount of magic.”
“Okay…but what for?” Greta asked, still confused. “What do they do? Why did Greg even have these?”
Goldengrape noticed then a piece of paper attached to the inside of the case’s lid. “Maybe this says?” He started to read aloud what was written on it. “Add hair to purple. Shake then drink. Use counter when finished.” He frowned. “Well, that all sounds like instructions, but…” he stopped upon seeing Greta take one of the hairs from the included bag and drop it into the vial she held. “…you aren’t.”
Greta shrugged, watching as the liquid inside swiftly absorbed the deposited hair. “It’s the easiest way to find out, Grapes,” she reasoned before giving the vial a shake then downing its contents in one gulp. She smacked her beak briefly afterwards. “Huh…didn’t expect it to taste so minty.”
That was as far as she got though before she suddenly lurched, grabbing at her middle with a full body shudder. At the same time, Goldengrape watched with a mixture of awe and dread as Greta’s form started to alter, changing shape and color so rapidly neither of them really had the chance to react before it’d finished. Now an entirely different looking griffon stood before him, one slightly bigger, bulkier, somewhat older in appearance, and colored an arctic grey color instead of Greta’s original chestnut brown with all of her pale green speckling now gone.
Goldengrape sat there and stared for a moment while Greta likewise processed her own shock. “…Greta?” he asked hesitantly.
“…yeah?” Greta croaked, but her eyes bulged and paws clamped at her throat when the voice that came out sounded much deeper and more masculine. “What?” she hissed. She sounded like she was trying to force her voice back to its usual tone with little success. “What?”
It was about then that Goldengrape realized with stunned shock that, he’d seen this particular griffon she’d become before. Hurriedly looking at a picture of the office’s owner hanging on the wall, he confirmed he wasn’t imagining it. “Greta…I think that stuff turned you into Greg!”
“What?” Greta scrambled to find something to check her reflection in. Grabbing a shiny and metallic pen holder, she studied her new form for a moment. “Sweet Grover, you’re right!” She glanced up, pulling a perplexed face. “But wait, wouldn’t that also make me…?” she trailed off before her gaze shot downwards between “her” hind legs. “Oh! So that’s what it’s like to have one of those!”
“Greta!” Goldengrape hissed, uncomfortable by her lack of discretion.
“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t ever wondered before.” Catching the withering gaze he gave her though, she realized her error. “Well, okay, maybe not you specifically…”
“So how do we turn you back?” Goldengrape interrupted before they went any further down that rabbit hole.
Greta pulled out the other vial paired with the first. “Well, maybe this is that “counter” the instructions mentioned,” she reasoned and quickly gulped it down like she had the first. A moment later and her form quickly changed back to her usual self. She gave herself a quick pat down and breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah, that’s better. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t shift back.”
“…shift…” Goldengrape mumbled before slapping himself in the face. “Of course! That’s what shift pot is short for—shifting potions! That’s what Greg’s been trying to sell!”
“I’m guessing these are for demoing how it works to buyers,” Greta reasoned, motioning to the case. She picked up the bag of hairs. “Then these also must be Greg’s.” She stuck out her tongue upon realizing she drank something with that in it, even though she was the one who’d voluntarily done it. “What the potion turns you into is probably determined by the hair you drop into it.”
Goldengrape then had a horrifying thought. “Greta…you remember those pictures the police had that showed us going to and from the crime scene?”
Greta’s eyes bulged again. “You think somebody used these potions to disguise themselves as us?” she asked. Her gaze went distant as she put those pieces together in her head. “Goldfinches, I’d call that clever if it weren’t also so devious.”
Goldengrape closed the case, running his hoof over it. “It also begs the question…who was Greg selling these to? And where did he get them in the first place?”
They never got the chance to discuss it further because that was when the office door burst open and two unicorn police officers stormed in, their horns alight and at the ready. “Nobody move!” one of the two ordered.
For the second time that day, Greta and Goldengrape threw their hooves and paws into the air in surrender. This time, however, Goldengrape recognized one of the ponies. “Officer Shoofly!” he declared, remembering the subdued unicorn from his interrogation that morning. “Please, this isn’t what it looks like!”
“I…I cannot agree,” Shoofly replied with a brief moment of hesitation. “After all, you two have already been charged with murder, breaking and entering, and now escape from arrest.”
“If you’ll just let us explain,” Goldengrape pressed on anyway. “We think we’ve found evidence proving we’re being framed! Here, let me show you.”
He started towards the case still on the desk, but the police ponies only grew more alert at him moving. “Don’t move or we’ll fire!” the other police pony warned again.
Goldengrape obediently resumed his position of surrender but Greta wasn’t as eager to let it go. “Seriously, you’re making a mistake!” She told the officers. “I know how it looks, and yes, we did escape the prison carriage and sneak in here, but we did it to prove our innocence!” She jabbed her beak in the direction of the case. “Greg had that in his safe! We’ve also found documents showing he’s been selling them! Look for yourself and tell me it’s not suspicious!”
Shoofly carefully approached the case, but he never opened it, instead levitating it away from them. “I’m confiscating this as proof for falsifying and planting evidence,” he said as if he hadn’t heard either of them. He said it in an unsteady voice though, as if still trying to convince himself of it.
“Officers, please,” Goldengrape pleaded, “listen to us! Things aren’t as they seem! We think criminals were sold shifting pot—”
He was cut short when the second officer abruptly struck him with a spell. All of his muscles tensed at once as the sharp electrical shock zipped through him before then going completely numb and he involuntarily flopped sideways onto the floor. Behind him, he heard Greta start to shout and swear at the officers, clearly furious, but was silenced when they turned their horns onto her, ready to do it again.
“He was stunned, that’s all,” the second officer explained sternly. “Keep trying us though and we may use something with more force next.”
Goldengrape couldn’t see her from where he lay and couldn’t turn his head, so he could only make an educated guess as to Greta’s reaction to that. Judging from the sounds of her shifting restlessly and the overall aura of anger and alarm she extruded though, she was still contemplating ways to resist. For the moment she didn’t give the officers reason to attack her, but judging from how they remained tense, she hadn’t surrendered yet either.
“Please cooperate,” Shoofly urged finally. “You can come out of here voluntarily and under your own power, or we’ll be forced to drag you out of here ourselves. Either way, we need you both to come with us.”
A tense moment passed. “Grapes stays with me,” Greta finally demanded.
“Fine,” the second officer agreed. “You can carry him out. But either of you try anything funny…” he motioned to his horn, indicating they’d be keeping them under close guard.
Greta must’ve signaled she’d comply because a moment later she was allowed to approach Goldengrape. “You okay?” she whispered into his ear.
Goldengrape attempted to reply that he was, just numb. But slack-jawed as he currently was, all he managed was to slur out gobbledygook.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Greta replied. Her tone was strained and sterile of any of her usual teasing humor. “I’m going to pick you up and put you on my back to ride, okay?”
Goldengrape tried to give his compliance only for slurred nonsense to again ooze out his mouth. Greta understood though and, with surprising reverence, scooped him up and slid him onto her back, wrapping his forehooves around her neck and pinning them there with one paw when he proved unable to do it himself. That done, the officers escorted them out at hornpoint, letting Greta take the lead while following closely behind, ready to act if she tried anything. Greta initially did this looking defiantly resolute, but once in the building’s lobby where there were plenty of passersby to see them being led out, she slowly hung her head, looking more and more defeated. Goldengrape wished he could do something to reassure her, but his current state made it impossible.
Once outside, they found a lonely police carriage waiting for them, not unlike the one that had been taking them to prison but smaller and lighter, capable of being pulled by only one pony if needed. They were loaded up into the back of it, Greta seating Goldengrape beside her since he couldn’t exactly do it himself. This time though they wouldn’t be riding alone as the second officer took a seat across from them, ready to act should they try to escape again. Further, when Shoofly closed the doors behind them, they clearly heard him locking them this time, meaning there was no hope of that conveniently getting overlooked.
Not long thereafter, the carriage jerked forward, presumably being pulled by Shoofly. “So where are you taking us this time?” Greta flatly asked the officer accompanying them, “To that prison?”
“No,” the officer replied to the surprise of them both. “We’re not beating about the bush with this anymore.”
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Interesting turn of events. I nearly thought Greg was in the illegal drugs business.
You know now I can't help thinking that these two are actually a good shipping fuel just a little 🥰
11596686
That actually was the original plan...but then I decided this route was more creative and original.
Then he got killed in the office I'm surprised there's no Yellow Tape or anything like that unless he was somewhere else during the time of his murder
That's actually a pretty good observing to pay attention your surroundings kind of reminds me of that show Psych
11596814
And it's a good idea, because it raises a question as to what Greg was doing with such potions. I could guess identity theft, or impersonation, which would lead to fraud.
11596821
Greg was actually established in the second chapter to have been murdered in his penthouse apartment, not his office.
Ohhh I think I know what's up somebody used shapeshifting spell to put a blame on both of them
Uh oh sometimes tells me they're not cops 😥
Oh wow this is not good so it looks like Greta and golden grapes got them self out of this situation especially getting the chain and the outfits off so they went to the city to find Greg's office and once they got there they had to sneak inside without anybody noticing them and it looks like they found something they never expected apparently they found a couple of bottles contains magical powers which it turns out it can shape-shift them into different ponies and creatures and this is how they frame Greta and golden grapes but before they could figure this thing out the cops showed up and he tried to explain to them about the situation but apparently the cops were not listening and put a stun on him and Greta was about to fight them off she didn't want to make things were so she complied with them and thinking that they were heading for the prison it looks like those cops has other plans and something tells me those are not the real ones who are they I guess we'll find out next time