Erebus: Episode 1: Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!

by Honey Mead

Scene 5

Filthy Rich groaned and pressed a hoof against his temple. With more effort than it should have taken, he forced himself back up to a sitting position. The steady hum of the arcano-tech engine and the rumble of the wheels running over the rough cobblestone road assaulted his groggy ears.

His eyes went wide when his memories flooded back.

A cry of surprise and pain. The sound of a door opening and a heavy weight falling out of the cabin. The white faced pony poking her head through the partition and blasting an air horn in his face. The acidic smell filling his nose followed by drowsiness.

Reaching a hoof for the door, he made to jump from the still moving vehicle.

A sing-song voice from the driver's box brought him up short. “Tut, tut, tut. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Rich froze, slowly turning to face the source of the happy voice. The blonde-maned, white-coated mare poked halfway through the partition separating the driver and passenger compartments. Her forelegs dangled over the padded seat, rolling a blue iced cupcake from side to side. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the spinning confectionery.

“It would be terribly rude of you to not come to the party. I planned it just for you.”

Rich sat back down, trying to recover what dignity he could. Running a hoof through his slicked, black mane, he finally looked up at the mare.

He swallowed down the disturbing sensation boiling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of her eyes. The smile on her muzzle reflected perfectly in the violet orbs. That, and her complete lack of malice, made the normally confident stallion very uncomfortable. Despite the visual evidence, he struggled to connect the mare with the cupcake in her hooves, as though the existence of one disallowed the existence of the other.

A glance through the partition showed the reins sitting limp at the drivers station. “Wh—who’s driving?”

“Madam le Flour, of course.” The mare put a hoof to the side of her muzzle in a stage whisper, as if to keep somepony else from hearing. “Between you and me, she’s not very good behind the reins. But don’t tell her I told you, she’s very sensitive about it.”

Rich nodded, stopping himself from asking a questions that he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer to. The carriage took a sudden sharp turn to the left, nearly throwing him into the door. The mare gasped before disappearing back to the driver’s seat.

Freed from the mare’s gaze, Rich found his faculties begin to reassert themselves. A pony in his line of work did not survive long without the ability to handle difficult situations. Rival’s had been at his throat almost since day one, and there was a reason he was still on top.

Before he could do much more than rally himself, the carriage pulled to a stop, robbing him of the chance to flee. The door beside him pulled open with far more force than necessary.

The smooth rail of a slingshot poked into the cab. “Come on out, Mister Rich. Heh heh heh, you don’t want to be late for the ‘party’.”

The thought of making a break for it was quickly dispelled at the sight of the eclair mounted on the sling. Survival instincts dictated that, for now, following along was in his best interest. Careful to not make any sudden movements, Rich complied with the orders and, with as much dignity as he could muster, exited the vehicle.

Two large earth ponies leveled their slings at him as he stepped into the light of the street lamp. They were green and blue of coat and both wore conical party hats over their orange manes. The sight of the hats did not bother Rich as much as it should have, assuming that they were just the newest gang to try to force their way into Canterlot.

The blue one motioned Rich toward the door of the nondescript warehouse that the carriage had stopped outside of. Once again complying without word or protest, Rich trotted toward the entrance. Leaving the carriage and open air behind, the three ponies entered the warehouse.

The few times he had been questioned on the subject of his success, Filthy Rich had always been quick to ascribe his success in business to things like market research, smart investments, and timing. While these may indeed have helped, the truth was far simpler. Filthy Rich knew ponies. He knew what ponies wanted, and when they wanted it. But more importantly, he knew, and surrounded himself with, ponies who could get things done. His approach to business had always been as hooves off as possible, preferring to have trusted lieutenants take care of the details so that he could focus on the larger issues.

This particular style of leadership had had many advantages for Filthy Rich. One of which was that he could never be truly connected to the more illicit side of his business. He did not track many of the finer details, other than the books of course, as he had complete faith in the ponies under him.

As such, Filthy had little reaction to the seemingly generic warehouse that the brutes lead him through. It wasn’t until the sixth turn that he realized he had no idea how to get out. The entire layout of the warehouse was a maze of boxes, crates, storage containers, and walls.

The procession made a final right turn, and Rich froze. The path ended in a large open space. Four long tables covered in a myriad of chemistry equipment lined either side of the front half of the floor space with a wide space between the two sides. Three more armed earth ponies stood in a cluster in the opening, breaking off their conversation at the new arrivals.

Rich almost didn’t notice any of it, his attention stolen by the machine at the back that took up the rest of the opening. Three large steel vats sat side-by-side while a smaller fourth one with an open top was positioned farther forward. Pipes ran from each of the three vats to a large black box located next to the lone vat. A single small pipe rose out for the box, arching over the open vat, letting a multi-colored liquid dribble out into the vat.

Any reaction he may have been forming beyond stunned silence was cut off by the high pitched squeal of three colorful noisemakers. The white mare responsible for his guard's untimely death, and his subsequent gassing, cartwheeled from nowhere in particular to stand right in front of Rich. The noisemakers in her hooves and mouth were quickly cast aside.

“Surprise! This was a surprise, right? I would hate to think you'd figured it all out before hoof. I put a lot of work into this, and I REEEAAALLLLYYY wanted it to be a big surprise." She edged closer, forcing Rich to step back or have their noses touch. "So was it? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

Filthy Rich stared at the mare bouncing up and down inches from his muzzle. He showed his impressive ability to rally in the face of unexpected circumstances wonderfully when he chose to act.

Lunging for the mobile mare, he completely failed to come anywhere near her and, with his forelegs stretched out to grab her, he had nothing with which to arrest his fall. His chin hit the floor first, followed quickly by the rest of him.

“Tut, tut, tut,” the mare scolded, motioning with a hoof. “No huggies until the party’s over!”

Comments

[Doomande]

What? No authors note this time? How come?

[Honey Mead]

2112986

[FacadeArt]

And the crossover does the crossing over! Hello Joker Surprise!

I have faith that this all ties together in the end, and the amount of detail is still nice. Batman is also a detective so it's fitting to write this in a way of a mystery detective novel that leaves you with questions, but only if those questions are answered well in the end.

[Honey Mead]

2314083
A running commentary!
Allow me to say this, when conceiving this story one of the primary ideas was to write a series of, not necessarily chronological, stories that revealed the past slowly over time.
With this in mind I very intentionally left a great deal out.
I apologize if the story doesn't meet you're expectations or standards because if this. Either way I look forward to any thoughts you might have and thank you fit the time you are taking to both read and comment.