The World At Large

by ToixStory

Episode 1: Swing Vote - Part 2

The fire department arrived a short time later. The hotel was well-insured and a popular destination, so they got special treatment over other locations. Was it fair? No, but I didn’t mind it for once when the building I was actively standing in was saved the fastest.

Even with the timely arrival of the firefighters, it was still obvious that nothing on the Atlas floor would be saved. Any evidence that had been up there had died with the ponies in the ballroom. Back at square one. Just great.

Grapevine leaned against one of the front desks. She watched while the rich ponies were hauled down from the upper floors and made to stand in the lobby in nightwear and other loves of immodesty. I thought I saw her smile a little.

I walked up to her. “So is there any reason we’re still hanging around here?” I asked. “Our leads are all dead. Shouldn’t we, you know, be moving on?”

She shrugged. “The police are going to want a statement.”

“Since when have you cared about talking to the police?”

“They’re going to want a statement from everypony, Minty.”

I swallowed. She was still a couple steps ahead of me, as usual. Yes, this case really was turning out to be a great way to show me how far I still had to go. I told myself to calm down. If I didn’t learn anything now, it would come back to bite me in the flank later.

About the time the firefighters arrived back in the lobby, the police showed up. Their squad cars wailed with the sirens on top. Behind them, the steam that ran through the street that was as thick as fog. The ponies in the dark blue uniforms burst through the lobby doors with hard looks on their faces. Their weapons weren’t drawn, but they looked like they could be at any second.

Grapevine had filled in the pony we had got to call them with all the extra details about the attacker, so they were expecting some rough business when they showed up. Not, I guessed from their expressions, aging rich mares in their nightgowns.

The officers began to spread out to take statements and gather information for reports and file claims and such. From the way most of them moved, it looked like they would have rather been met with a dozen assassins than just more busywork.

Red Rover trotted over toward us. His eyes looked weary once he spotted the dark spots on our coats from the fire. “Really?” he asked. “I leave you two to your business for a couple hours and you burn down an entire floor?”

“It wasn’t our fault,” I said. “The assassin—”

Rover held up a hoof. “Yeah, we know. We got the message on the way over. Assassin killed several ponies and blew up the Atlas floor of the Rapture hotel.” He smirked. “I heard from the ponies watching outside that it was a big daddy of a fire.”

He leaned closer to us and kept his voice down. “He—the assassin—was connected to the killing of Rich Text, wasn’t he?”

Grapevine nodded. “There’s reason to believe it was the same pony. It would make sense, too. This one’s a trick killer.”

“I thought as much.” Rover looked grim. “This won’t look good for us when the sensational papers get a hold of it. There will be talk everywhere of a killer lining up all the candidates. Without a motive, the papers will make one up.”

“You know you’re talking to two reporters, right?” Grapevine asked.

Rover shrugged. “You two seem to only publish after you have the whole stories. The other papers are more out to make a quick bit over the latest story as soon as they get even a shred of information. They’re the ones that we’re really worried about.”

“Great, then why don’t you go bother them,” Grapevine said, pointing to the crowd of reporters and camera ponies who had started to gather by the entrance.

Rover watched for a moment, then nodded. “Fine, but just try not to destroy another floor while I’m gone,” he said. “I’d prefer to not have to do the paperwork.”

He left us by the front desk and trotted over to the arriving press, no doubt to corral them and assure them that everything was OK. This left Grapevine and I alone by the desk as the secretaries and other office staff were taken aside by the police.

Grapevine rolled her eyes. “Thought he’d never leave.” She jumped up and slid across the front desk, planting herself on the other side.

“And now what are you doing?” I asked.

She started to root through the drawers on the other side of the desk. Papers flew out and drifted across the area. I looked around to see if anypony noticed us, but most were too involved with the police to care.

“Every hotel keeps a record of all its guests,” Grapevine explained, “and this one isn’t going to let a guest into the Atlas Room without them signing in first.”

“But what if he was, like, an employee?” I asked.

Grapevine shrugged. “Maybe, but employees need to gain trust first. Need to fit in first and have a longer record. No, I think he either came in on his own money or as a friend of one of the guests.” She found a file and threw it on the table in front of her. “So either we’re dealing with a rich assassin or one with rich friends. I’m not sure which one is worse.”

She scrutinized the file for a second before sliding it over to me. “Write this down, will you?” she asked.

“I don’t have anything to write on,” I said. “Or something to write with . . .”

Grapevine stared at me. “So you brought your camera, but nothing to take notes with? Are you sure you’re a reporter?”

My cheeks burned. “Well I just, uh, forgot.”

“Fine, then grab something and write the names down. We don’t have time to get the film developed if you took a picture.”

I grabbed a small note card off the side of the desk and flipped it over. I took a pen and began to copy the names as neatly as I could while using my wings to write. Most of the names were unknown to me, but I recognized a few of them from business ads. For sure, all of them could buy Joya’s house like we bought a bottle of milk.

I finished and tried to give the card to Grapevine, but she refused. “Keep it,” she said. “At least have something to prove you’re a reporter.”

She climbed out from behind the desk and beckoned to me. “Now come on, we need to get going before the police are finished here.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, trotting up behind her.

She smiled. “To see Marshmallow, of course.”

* * *

We took the steamcar out of downtown Fillydelphia and into the Burb. The Burb, unlike the rest of the city, was like its own little world. Gone were the messy rowhouses and dirty shops that doubled as homes. Here, ponies lived in neat little houses that sat a good distance apart from each other on manicured lawns. Shops were made only for shopping and those that kept them went home when they closed. Here, even the steamcars made less noise and the ponies kept them parked in separate areas called parking lots. It was a strange place.

Marshmallow lived in a neighborhood on a hill overlooking the Burb, but Grapevine took a detour on the way there and turned into the gates of a private neighborhood first. The guard greeted her like she lived there because, of course, she did.

Our car rumbled down the quiet streets shaded by overhanging trees that glowed a vibrant green in the late days of August. She lived at the end of a little road called Connemara Trail in a one story bungalow with white siding. She parked on her driveway and we both hopped out.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“Just came by to get something really quick,” Grapevine said. “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

I followed her through the blue front door and into her living room. The whole thing spoke of a modern taste and simple elegance. That, and she never seemed to be home often enough to dirty up the place. The modest kitchen looked almost untouched.

In her bedroom, however, were more signs of the Grapevine I knew. Scattered clothes and documents that spilled over a bed that likely had never been made since she bought it. Hanging above it were objects I hadn’t seen last time I had been there, though.

A few simple pictures in wooden frames depicting a younger girlfriend and a handsome colt beside her. She looked happy in them . . . happier than I had seen her before. She saw me looking at them.

“Thought it was about time they saw the light of day again,” she said, then smiled a little. “It’s been a while.”

A moment passed between us before she shook her head and kept walking into the bathroom. I didn’t follow her in, of course, but instead waited outside. My face started to grow hot when I realized why we had stopped. Grapevine stuck her head out a moment later.

“I’m not doing that, if that’s what you think,” she said. “Sheesh, a pony can’t even walk into a bathroom . . .”

I heard her fumbling inside the room for something, but was kept in the dark until she walked out once again. In one hoof was an old notepad, and in the other was a blue pen with a gold cap. She smiled. “Thought you could use these.”

“You keep a notepad and pen in the bathroom?” I asked, taking them from her and placing them in a pocket on my shirt.

“Ideas come at all times, Minty. All times.” She laughed.” The first pad and pen that I had when I started as a reporter at the Chronicler. Thought it would be appropriate for you to use them now.”

She smirked and poked at my chest. “It would still look better if you lost the camera, you know.”

I stuck out my tongue. “I can still have my own personal touches, you know.”

“You look like a dork, you know.”

We both laughed like school fillies and moved on out of the bedroom and back out toward the car. Grapevine snagged an apple from her icebox before joining me back in the steamcar and setting the thing into gear.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” she said, “it’s about time we go meet Marshmallow again.”

I nodded. “Lead on.”

* * *

Marshmallow Bauble’s neighborhood was a prim little area called High Point Estates that was, as its name suggested, on the top of a hill that served as the highest point in the Burb. It was lined up against the mountains that ringed Fillydelphia and offered a breathtaking view of the granite giants.

The air was clearer up in her neighborhood than anywhere else in the city, and I took it in huge gasps. It was like being back in my rural hometown, Derbyshire. Of course, Derbyshire had never had mountains or rich ponies, so I could consider High Point Estates a definite improvement.

We parked at the top of Marshmallow’s long driveway and trotted the rest of the way to her house. It was a massive two story with brick siding and shingles that looked like they were slapped on and then forgotten about. The massive lawn spanned hundreds of feet wide and in length, reminiscent of the farm I had grown up on. The only surprising thing about it, though, were the lack of any cars beside ours. I would have thought that after a major event, one of the mayoral candidates would have attracted more attention.

I knocked on the door and was greeted by a voice from inside, “Go away! The offices of Marshmallow Bauble are closed for today! Anypony not in compliance will have the police called on them!”

Grapevine snickered. “Starshine, we can hear you in there! It’s just us!”

The door flew open and we were greeted by a mint-colored pegasus standing in the arched doorway. Her sharp pink mane settled on her head like a colt’s, though that might have been the intended effect. Before I could greet her, I noticed something very new about her. Something . . . missing.

It took me a second, but when I realized it I had to take a step back. Her wings were gone. Sure, her wings had been artificial constructions of brass in the first place—or at least since she had lost her original wings before I came to Fillydelphia—but seeing an empty space on her back was both unsettling and even a little horrifying. I could see small holes where the wings had been connected to her bones and nerves. They ran from her shoulders back to her cutie mark, a winged horseshoe.

She noticed me looking and laughed. “You like?” she asked, then flexed her back. “That friend of Sterling’s took the old ones so she could work on modifications to the new ones. They’re gonna be so awesome!”

Starshine Scamper jumped in the air, then seemed to forget she couldn’t fly and came back to the ground with a blush on her face. She coughed. “So, uh, I guess you guys are here to see Marshmallow?”

“That was the plan,” Grapevine said.

“Well she’s a little shook up, so I would be careful—”

Grapevine stomped past her into Marshmallow’s parlor and called out, “Hey Marshmallow, you here?”

A tentative voice answered her from the master bedroom. “Grapevine, is that you?”

The purple reporter smiled and trotted through the breezy living room with Starshine and I in tow. Posters, buttons, stickers, and a printing machine occupied the space that had once held a massive couch and fancy radio. Changes had come with the campaign, I supposed.

The inside of Marshmallow’s bedroom was even different. The bed was buried under a mountain of charts and papers depicting voting districts, projections, accuracy checks of those corrections, accusations that those accuracy reports were false, and so on. From one chart, it looked like the candidates had been almost neck and neck before the assassination.

In the middle of it all was an ivory mare with blonde locks that fell down her back. Her deep-set, ruby eyes pored over the same issue of the Times that Grapevine had shown me. She jumped when we walked in.

“It’s probably not best for you to be reading that,” Grapevine said. “It’s just pulp reporting anyway. Nothing to get worried about.”

Marshmallow looked up at her. “I knew Rich Text,” she said. “He was really nice before the debate last week. He didn’t treat me like this was my first time running for office or like how I was just a spoiled Blueblood family princess. Now . . .” She cocked her hoof to the side of her head and made a bang sound.

Grapevine moved forward and took her hoof away from her head. “Don’t get like that on us just yet,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of ponies worried right now, and you don’t need to be one of them.”

“They told me I would die,” Marshmallow said. “When I called the campaign office to ask what to do and they told me to stay away or I would be killed!”

She was shaking. Grapevine put a hoof around her shoulders and pulled her close. She let the former librarian quake against her until the terror had drained away from her. Starshine and I stood to the side, doing our best to look anywhere but at them.

Marshmallow sniffed. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” she said. “Today’s just . . . it’s not going to be a good day.”

“I know,” Grapevine said. “Why don’t you tell Minty about why you decided to run in the first place? Maybe that will take your mind off of it.”

She shot me a glare that dared me to say anything else. I didn’t.

Marshmallow nodded then shook herself and stood up. “Yeah, I can do that, but let’s get some tea first.”

* * *

Marshmallow’s kitchen was almost as large as Joya’s entire sales floor and I felt like I could lose myself in it if I wasn’t careful. She even had an entire cabinet devoted just to tea. She swung it open and looked up at the many multicolored boxes.

“So,” she began, “I have Blueberry, Raspberry, Ginseng, Sleepy Time, Green Tea, Green Tea With Lemon, Green Tea With Lemon and Honey, Liver Disaster, Ginger with Honey, Ginger without Honey, Vanilla Almond, White Truffle, Blueberry Chamomile, Vanilla Walnut, Constant Comment, and Earl Grey.”

She turned around to us. “What do you guys feel like?”

I scratched my head. “Did you make some of those up?”

Marshmallow grabbed a light blue box and grabbed some teabags out of it. “Sleepy Time it is.” She filled a teapot and put it on the stove to boil, then leaned against the counter. The circles around her eyes looked to have cleared up a little.

“I guess this whole mayor thing seems surprising to you, huh?” she asked me.

“You could say that, yeah.”

She giggled. “I admit, I never thought that I would run, either. Or that anypony would actually throw in their support for me.”

“So what happened?”

“Well I was on the Burb city council after Pullmare’s demise, if you remember. One day, they start to talk about new elections for a mayor and how one of the council members is bound to win. Rich Text and Party Line both volunteered themselves right then.”

She paused to place a teabag in the pot. “I didn’t think much of it until I was at home, I guess. That all the ponies running were nice enough, but it wouldn’t be so much different than Pullmare except for all the violence. And I had always said that I came to Fillydelphia to do as much good as I can . . . so why not be the mayor and work from the top down?”

I raised an eyebrow. “And how are you affording this?”

Marshmallow shrugged. “Money from back home. Apparently my parents think it’s a sign of me ‘growing up’ and ‘taking responsibility.’” She sighed. “I guess it’s good, but I get the feeling that I didn’t start getting ponies interested until I started adding ‘Blueblood’ to the end of my name on the posters and buttons.”

“But you’re like tied for the lead now, aren’t you?” I asked. “That’s still a good thing, right?”

She smiled. “That’s what we’re counting on.”

The teapot whistled and Marshmallow whisked it off the stove and produced cups of tea for all of us after a short time. I sipped mine and grinned. Her cutie mark may have been a frying pan, but her cooking skills included a lot more than just that.

Before the conversation could start up again, the doorbell rang. Starshine groaned and put her cup down. “Will they stop coming around already?” she said. “I’ve been having to drive ponies away all morning. I’m going to hear that stupid doorbell in my head for a week.”

She trotted over to the front door and opened it. We could hear a short exchange between her and whatever unlucky pony had shown up and assumed it to be over. We were surprised, then, when she walked back with Red Rover in tow. Behind him marched a line of policeponies who scanned the room and took up positions by the door.

Marshmallow stepped forward and huffed, “What is the meaning of this? I don’t have any need for your trouble at this time!”

Rover glanced at me. “Mind telling her that I’m not here to rough all of you up?”

“You know him?” Marshmallow asked.

I nodded. “Long story, but I would guess he’s not here just to say hi.”

“That’s right,” Rover said. “We came here on an executive order from the chief of police. Effective immediately, we are to escort you and Party Line to a safehouse in the city to discourage further attack. We are confident a large enough police presence will discourage the assassin.”

“Assassin?” Marshmallow screeched. “Nopony told me about an assassin!”

“Oops,” I squeaked when Rover glared at me.

He shook his head. “There’s no time to explain. Just trust me when I say that your safety can only be guaranteed in the safehouse, so we must take you there. Now.”

“You aren’t going to give me a choice, are you?” Marshmallow asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it, ma’am.”

“Fine then, but only if I may bring my friends along.”

Rover nodded. “Of course.”

He waved to some of his officers and they escorted outside of the house. I kept close to Grapevine as we moved across the lawn toward one of the cars parked on Marshmallow’s lawn. Grapevine was smiling and enjoying herself while Marshmallow winced at the tire tracks cutting through her grass.

We passed one of the cars and heard somepony call, “Marshmallow!”

I turned and watched as an older pegasus hopped out of one of the black squad cars. He was blue from head to hoof, with his mane just a few shades darker than the rest. He had on a white collar and red tie. He was smiling as he approached Marshmallow.

“It’s great to see you’re alright,” he said. “I was in the car when the announcement about the assassin aired and I was afraid that, well, you know.”

Marshmallow sighed. “Yes, I’m just now learning of this so-called assassin. It’s good to see you’re fine as well, Party Line.” She turned to us. “All of you, meet Party Line. He was head of the council here in the Burb and the first to announce that he would run.”

Line did a small bow. “It was only my duty, I felt. Though I don’t discourage Marshmallow from running.”

Grapevine raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you two supposed to be . . . rivals?”

Line laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read, dear. The Burb council was pretty tight-knit; we don’t hold any ill will toward each other.” His face darkened. “That was one reason the death of Rich Text hit us so hard.”

Marshmallow nodded. “It wasn’t pleasant learning about what happened, but at least now we have a way to get to safety. Rich wouldn’t have wanted us to be in any more danger than he was.”

“Yes, I agree,” Line said. “To that end, would you like to join me in my car, Miss Bauble?”

Rover stepped forward. “No can do,” he said, “we’re under strict orders to keep you two in separate cars. That way, if something happens, it can only affect one of you at a time.”

“What is that chief of yours expecting to happen?” Marshmallow asked.

“Beats me, but better safe than sorry.” Rover escorted us away from Party Line and to a waiting car. There was an officer in the front with a large mustache and reflective shades. Grapevine stopped short of getting in, however.

She turned to Rover. “Can I at least take my own car?” she asked. Rover thought for a moment, then relented and let the violet reporter hop in her own steamcar. I stayed inside the car with Marshmallow and Starshine, however. Grapevine didn’t ask if I wanted to come with her and I didn’t ask.

The line of police cars set out in our own motorcade with Grapevine bringing up the rear. Party Line was closer to the front and we were somewhere in the middle. The whole thing must have been loud enough to hear across all the Burb and just as visible, but I supposed that was the point.

We wound down the hill away from High Point Estates and toward the smattering of office buildings in the center of the Burb. The car was quiet as an unseen tension hung in the air. Marshmallow kept looking back and forth out all the windows while Starshine rubbed her back over and over, tracing patterns in her coat.

I was in the passenger seat and did my best to keep still. The stallion driving the car did the same, but it could have been nervousness on his part. I wouldn’t have wanted to have his job either.

The motorcade passed onto the city streets that were much narrower than up the hill. The buildings soared above us and closed us in like a cage. The entire line of cars had to slow down to pass through traffic.

We came to our first problem a short way on. A carriage lay on its side in the middle of the street. Its contents were strewn all over the ground and the thing was on fire. The motorcade, then, had to pass down a side street and away from the more visible avenues through the Burb. There were two lanes on either side of the road and we stayed the farthest away from the sidewalk as we could.

A few cars drove along with us, but most of them pulled over and let us go past. Every time one of those cars would drive near us, the driver tensed up a little. I could guess that he was seeing a cold-hearted assassin in every one of them.

It turned out he wasn’t wrong about the assassin, but just about the source.

When we passed beneath a stand of trees that stretched over the highway, a parked car started up and followed alongside the column. Other cars had done it before of course, though this one was larger than the rest. Still, it was no cause for alarm until it swerved to the left and struck Party Line’s car in the midsection.

The other cars tried to respond, but it was like the entire street had become our enemy. Parked cars started up only to ram themselves into police cars in the column. It was chaos. I caught glimpses of what was happening but wasn’t aware of much outside of the screams and noise that were emanating from the motorcade. Cars swerved everywhere. One car ran off the road and crumpled into a burning ball of fire. I didn’t know if it was ours or not.

A side street loomed ahead of us to the right. What remained of the motorcade bolted for it. Our assailants noticed and pursued. The lead car was slammed off the road. Second in the line made it through, but the third smashed into a tree.

Our drive smashed his hoof on the gas and we darted forward. Even with the new burst of speed, it still seemed too slow. We had been untouched before, but now one of the “other” cars drew up next to us.

Starshine and Marshmallow were screaming in my ears and I couldn’t make out anything to say myself. The driver had the wheel in a death grip. We were sitting ducks. The other car, though, seemed to hesitate for a second. I could see a dark figure inside, and it looked like he was checking who was in the car.

He didn’t have long to get a good look. There was a massive roaring sound from behind us and Grapevine crashed into the back of the other car. Before he could recover, she shoved him off the road and onto some poor pony’s front lawn.

She leaned out of her window and screamed, “Drive!”

The police pony complied and we zoomed down the side street. We twisted and turned down more small roads as Marshmallow guided him as far away from the assaulting ponies as we could go. Grapevine stuck to us the whole time.

* * *

We stopped some time later at a small outlet mall with a big, wide parking lot. Before the engine was even off, I was out and on the ground, thankful to feel its comforting presence under my hooves. From the looks of them, Marshmallow and Starshine were experiencing the same thing.

Grapevine parked next to us and got out. She winced when she saw the carnage her little stunt had done to the front of her car. “It was brand new, too . . .” she moaned.

I held my head as I saddled up next to her. “What in the world was that?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Either our assassin is even richer than I thought, or this is a coordinated effort. Which makes it just that much harder on us.”

Marshmallow joined us by Grapevine’s car, Starshine following close behind. “I can’t start to thank you enough,” she said. “I thought we were going to . . . well, you know. I’ll pay all the bills for your car, don’t worry.”

“I would say it’s no bother,” Grapevine began, “but, well, you can see for yourself.” She laughed. “Happy to help, though.”

“Yeah, I thought they were going to ram us for sure, but then the stallion in the other car hesitated and you came up and rammed him!” Starshine said.

“He hesitated?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was going to hit us, but then looked to see who was inside . . . come to think of it, I don’t even know if he made a move against us after that.”

“Do you think he was looking for me?” Marshmallow asked.

“Probably. I don’t know, maybe they were looking to make sure they could take you alive . . . like they took Party Line, I guess.”

“Did they?”

“Hey, police . . . guy,” Grapevine called, “any word on Party Line?”

There was no reply from the other side of the police car. We walked around it to find the driver’s side empty. The mustache and sunglasses sat on top of the uniform, folded and placed on the driver’s seat. The pony that had been wearing them was gone.

“What the—” Starshine began.

Grapevine picked up the shiny police badge that, now, looked like an obvious fake. “Maybe the other driver didn’t hesitate because of Marshmallow,” she said. “Maybe he hesitated because of his boss.”

“Th-The assassin was in the car?” Marshmallow screeched.

“Maybe,” I said, “but why would he help us escape?”

Grapevine shook her head. “I don’t know, but this just complicates things even more. Not good . . . not good at all.” She turned to me. “Alright, next move is hook back up with the police and start taking a look at those guests from the Atlas Floor you wrote down. Still have the card?”

“It’s in my pocket, hold on.” I reached down into my shirt and produced the card, but when I saw the backside my heart sank. All the excitement had smudged the ink, making the words unreadable.

Grapevine saw my expression and sighed. “What now?”

“The names may have been smudged in the car chase.”

“You’re joking. Please be joking.”

I showed the card to her. She groaned and shoved it back at me before stomping off. Marshmallow followed after her while Starshine just shook her head. I sighed and turned the card over, hoping maybe I could read the impression on the other side.

The other side, I had figured, would just be a normal hotel business card. Nothing special. But this one . . . wasn’t. It had a small, stylized picture of a flame on it, and over it read, “Pyrrhus Electric & Matchsticks, Inc.” Under it was a name scrawled in pen. A nickname, from the looks of it. Hep.

“Hey, Grapevine, do you think this is important?” I asked, wagging the card at her.

She walked back over after a moment and snatched the card away. Her eyes got wider as she did so. When she gave the business card back to me, I could watch her mind already begin to start up again.

“That’s no ordinary card,” she told me, “and Pyrrhus isn’t any ordinary business. If you got that from the hotel . . . something’s going on here.”

“If they’re so big, how come I haven’t heard of them?” I asked.

“Saturation. Pyrrhus supplies almost all of the electricity and steam power in the entire city. Their name is everywhere if you know where to look.”

“What’s the big deal if their card was in Minty’s pocket?” Starshine asked.

“Because Pyrrhus does not deal with the Rapture Hotel. Not only that, but they’ve had their hooves in politics before . . . the only reason they didn’t with Pullmare is because she used her own business. Something tells me that if Minty got that card, then something big is going down.”

“So how do we find out about that?” I asked.

Grapevine smiled. “We investigate, of course.”

* * *

We slumped into the police station in downtown Fillydelphia sometime around twilight. The drive back had been uneventful, but our nerves had begun to wear down. For me, at least, it was Grapevine’s promise of an investigation. Investigate what? Pyrrhus? How?

I left those questions for Grapevine anyway. I felt burned out. The day was fading, the lights were on, and the highway curled behind us as we arrived at the station. It was the time of the day when the flashing headlights illuminated dark sidewalks as ponies passed each other on the concrete roadways on their way home. For them, the day was over.

I envied them.

We came in through the front doors to find what was left of the department in the same shape as we were. Their haggard looks and bloodshot eyes did more to tell me than any words could that we had taken a beating that day. For all their looks, though, they still managed to stand and smile when Marshmallow came in.

Red Rover ambled over to us and rubbed his eyes. “Nice to see you all made it,” he said. “We were beginning to think something had gone wrong. Especially after Party Line still hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Takes more than that to hurt us,” Grapevine said, then backed up a little. “It wasn’t by much, though. And we’ve gotten even worse news since then.”

“Worse than most of the convoy getting taken out and a dozen officers in the hospital or worse?”

“Well, okay, maybe not bodycount-wise, but in the context of this investigation . . .”

Rover sighed. “Let’s go to my office.”

He ushered us in to a little side room near the corner of the station no bigger than a broom closet. Rover sat at his desk, Marshmallow and I in chairs, while Grapevine stood at the back. Starshine elected to remain in the hallway.

Rover pushed some papers around on his desk. “Now what way do you want to ruin an already bad day, Miss Lulamoon?”

“I believe that the assassin from the Rapture hotel was the driver for our car. Somehow, he infiltrated your force and was able to drive us around.”

“That’s . . .” Rover stopped and looked down. “I’m not even sure what to say to that. Are you certain it was him?”

Grapevine shrugged. “Not completely, but I would bet on it. Our driver disappeared shortly after we got out of there, and my friends report that one of the cars hesitated to ram them.”

“But why would he help all of you escape?”

“That’s the million bit question.”

Rover leaned back in his chair and rolled his head a little. “My first investigation with you two and I feel more lost than a something in a something.” He smiled a little. “Did I mention I’m tired?”

Marshmallow yawned. “You’re not the only one.”

“Yes, and I suppose you’ll need someplace to sleep, won’t you?” Rover said. “Well, the four of you could take the cadet barracks over on the opposite side of the station. Can’t promise they’ll be comfortable, but they’ll give you four some privacy as well as police protection.”

He leaned across the desk. “It is strongly recommended that you take the offer.”

A few minutes later, we were dumped inside the dark barracks room. Even with the lights on, they were dimmed and buzzed so loud that we shut them off after a few seconds. The room was nothing more than a couple rows of four bunk beds each with lockers lining one wall. There were no windows and only one toilet in a closet at the back.

I fell on the starchy sheets and thin pillow with a vigor that only comes after a day like we had experienced. I watched Marshmallow and Starshine do the same. Grapevine climbed into the bed next to mine and winked.

“You know, there’s always room for one more,” she said.

I glared at her. “Very funny.”

She snickered and rolled over on the flimsy mattress, making little squeaking sounds. I didn’t have much time to worry about that, however. My thoughts were fading fast and my eyes racing to beat them.

There was a single thought that stayed with me as I drifted out of consciousness and sailed off to dreamland.

Pyrrhus.

Comments

[RoboRed]

Damn...figured out it was a trap the moment the flaming carriage/side street detour was mentioned...

[derpyhooves15]

Great chapter! I'm ashamed to say that I had forgotten exactly who Marshmallow was, but now that I remember, I'm hoping she stays safe. Can't wait to see what happens next!

[ToixStory]

2183337
Well, part of the purpose of this story was to reintroduce the characters and the goings-on of Fillydelphia in case anyone had forgotten, so I'm glad to see it served it's purpose!

[djthomp]

Marshmallow. Hmn, suddenly I'm wondering if we were ever told who exactly her parents were. Considering what Blueblood is up in in Boss of Me...

Wild ass guess, Party Line is either the big bad this arc or the next victim. Especially riding in a different car...

A description of the driver, that's pretty suspicious too...

Yeah, figured something was up with him. Sounds like either Marshmallow isn't a target or simply isn't a target now. Suspicious corporation name is very suspicious too.

Can't wait to see where this is going next.

[jangledorf]

I noticed that little Scott Pilgrim vs. The World reference in there. Also an awesome chapter, can't wait to see the next one!

[Rust]

2183212
I'm willing to bet money that was inspired by the convoy scene from The Dark Knight, where the burning fire engine forces them into the underground transit.

[dranor44]

ITS A TRAP.
great chapter!

but now i have to wait a week!!

[Rune Heart]

Pyrrhus. As in Pyrrhus of Epirus?

Well, here we go, folks.

[Ponibius]

Hmm, what has been set into motion this time I wonder? Looks like our intrepid reporters have quite the investigation ahead of them. Looking forward to seeing where this goes.

[dancing mop]

When I hear Pyrrhus, I think of the city in Killzone. just saying.

I really miss updates from the last story. No cheesy electric organ riff in my head every time I read the title this time...

But yeah, great story, and I have no idea where it's going, so...good job!

[Lightning Streak]

This is as good as your first story.

how do you even come up with this stuff? Is it history
related or just some randomly amazing ideas?