Episode 1: Caught
The bar was just as dingy as the last time we had visited, if a little more empty. It was just past the lunch hour, so only the drunks and castoffs were left; it was our kind of place.
Grapevine passed me a few bits and ordered, "Get me some rum." I grumbled a little, but complied with the request. The bartender eyed me with concern while I ordered, his eyes flicking to the shotgun behind the counter a couple times. Apparently, I had already made a little reputation for myself. At least Peece wasn't here this time, or things could have really gotten messy.
My throat was dry, but alcohol didn't seem very appealing at only an hour past noon, so I only got a drink for Grapevine. Walking back to the table, I saw that Grapevine had already found somepony to talk to.
"Minty, you remember Girdy, don't you?" she asked as I walked up. I nodded cordially to the gunmetal-gray mare. More than a few empty glasses were in front of the steelworker.
"Girdy here was recently classified as expendable by the Pullmare Company," Grapevine explained.
Girdy slammed at hoof down on the table, almost tipping over Grapevine's rum. "Those motherbuckers fired off my entire crew!" she slurred. "We were the best, and now we have to compete with those Germanes and Zebras for new jobs!"
Grapevine placed a comforting hoof on the drunk mare's shoulder. "I was just about to tell her how she can get revenge about her old boss," she said to me.
Girdy's head shot up at the mention of revenge. "You can help me get back at Buckmare?" she asked.
"Why sure," Grapevine said. "But it's actually your help that we're going to need."
Girdy stopped slumping across the table and sat up. "My help? How can I do anything?"
"Well," Grapevine said, "You still have your shift key, right?"
"Yes..." Girdy unsteadily replied.
"And they haven't changed the locks yet, right?" Grapevine continued. Girdy, in her stupor, couldn't see where the violet reporter was going, but I certainly could.
"We're going inside!" I exclaimed, a little too loudly.
Grapevine winced. "Yes, Minty, that's exactly what we're going to do."
"Oh hay yes," Girdy said uproariously. "This'll be easier than...well, something that's really easy!"
"So you'll tell us how to get in?" Grapevine asked.
Girdy nodded, but looked mournfully at the empty pitchers in front of her. "Could I get another drink first?"
* * *
A couple drinks later, and she would've given us the factory keys if we were complete strangers. As it was, Grapevine and I walked into the Pullmare Company's main facility virtually unopposed. The half-asleep guard didn't question us when we unlocked the gated worker's entrance and stepped into the main facility.
Unlike some of the more refutable factory owners, Grace Pullmare liked to keep everything about her employees under control. For the workers who were new to the country or just plain poor, their only option was to live on the factory site in small housing units, and were paid in script that could only be exchanged in on-site businesses. Girdy and her crew had been the lucky skilled labor who averted the system.
Of course, the only reason I knew anything about the subject was Grapevine deciding to give me an earful while we snuck around to one of the laundry houses.
"...and all the stores make sure to keep everypony in debt," she was saying. Continuing her rant, Grapevine casually walked up to the front door of the laundry hut and knocked.
"What do you want?" a grumpy mare answered, peering through a flap in the door.
"We need new uniforms," Grapevine said. She began to ramble, "We lost ours when we were searching for my cat, Sheila, who was born not 3 months ago, and whose poor, dear mother-“
The pony equinning the laundry house shut the flap and came back with two crisp uniforms as quickly as possible. She shoved them through a slot near the bottom of the door without a word.
"Thank you kindly," Grapevine said, smiling sweetly.
We put on our uniforms in some bushes.
“Do you mind?” I asked when Grapevine decided to change right next to me.
“Stop being such a baby,” Grapevine whispered.
The pale-blue outfit draped over me like a burlap sack, but it would do. “Don’t we need employee badges to get into the factory?” I asked.
“Badges?” she began, “We don’t need no-,” she paused and looked at the trio of burly guards in front of the brick warehouse. “On second thought, maybe we do.”
* * *
We walked openly through the dusty lot surrounding the Pullmare factory, looking among the tattered employee huts for one that looked unoccupied. Grapevine spotted one such house off in the corner of the fenced-in lot.
We galloped over and knocked on the door. No answer.
Tenderly, Grapevine pushed open the termite-infested door to reveal a dark interior. Electricity was rare in that part of West Fillydelphia, and employee housing was last on the list for most of the companies. The inside of the housing unit was simple: two cots in separate corners, a simple kitchen, and a potbellied coal stove. The stove’s chimney snaked through the room, letting out hisses of steam from holes in the pipes, before exiting through the roof.
“Alright, let’s just grab a couple badges and go,” Grapevine whispered.
“Why are we whispering?” I asked, though my voice, too, was kept low. She ignored me and walked over to a battered wardrobe, pushing open the creaking door. I looked hungrily at the meager kitchen; a couple burnt pieces of toast weren’t nearly enough to tide over anypony for a full day, much less a Pegasus.
I weighed the options of leaving an IOU on the counter when a timid voice cried out from behind me, “P-Please take whatever you want, just don’t hurt me!” I thought that maybe if I didn’t turn around, I could pretend I hadn’t heard anything; for all anypony knew, I could be deaf. Even better, maybe I was deaf and mute, so I couldn’t respond, either.
“Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that,” Grapevine said quickly. I sighed and turned around. The mare who’d spoken was lying on one of the dirty cots; we hadn’t seen her because her coat blended in with the bedding. She slowly raised herself to laying on one knee, and coughed; her young face looked sickly.
When she spoke, it was not quite what I was expecting. “Please don’t tell the overmares I’m here,” she said, her eyes full of desperation. “I-I lost my job, but I don’t have anywhere else to go, and if it wasn’t for Iron Trolley letting me stay here...”
“Don’t worry, we’re not here to hurt you,” Grapevine assured her.
“Promise you won’t tell,” the brown-maned mare pleaded.
“We promise,” I said.
She visibly grew less tense and straightened up further from her position on the bed. “Who are you?” she asked slowly.
“Friends,” Grapevine said.
“We’re here to stop Ms. Pullmare,” I explained. That certainly caught the ex-steel worker’s interest, but elicited a sharp look from Grapevine that practically screamed, “Nice job blowing our cover!” I shrugged.
“Well, uh, how can I help?” the now less-timid mare asked, scrambling out of bed.
“Well, Ms...,” Grapevine began.
“Brassity,” she offered.
“Right...Ms. Brassity,” Grapevine continued. “We could both really use an employee badge.”
“You know, if you’re not using one or anything,” I said.
Brassity sighed and shook her head. “Not anymore.” She swung herself out of the bed and reached into a nearby dresser drawer. Inside, there had to have been at least 10 badges. “It’s 8 bits to buy a replacement if you forgot your badge; it’s just easier to make copies,” Brassity explained.
She brought out two of them, and gave them to us. Brassity was shorter than both of us, so the badges on their lanyards rode a little high against our fronts, but looked official enough.
“Thanks so much,” Grapevine said once we were done putting them on.
“Hey, anything to get back at Pullmare,” Brassity said with a weak smile. “Just make sure the guards don’t get too good of a look at you; the badges still have my name on them.”
“Will do,” Grapevine said. We turned and showed ourselves to the door.
I waited until Grapevine left and said, “If there’s anything we can do to help after this...just let me know.” I hastily wrote the Chronicler address on a stray piece of paper and hoofed it to her.
Brassity’s eyes widened. “T-Thank you,” she said. I left her looking at the ground, and met Grapevine outside.
“You’re a big softie, you know that, right?” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
* * *
The strong, serious-looking facade the guards put up melted under the view of official employee badges, and we were let into the factory without a problem. We followed a group of similarly-dressed ponies through a side door and into some sort of employee lounge. The room stank of sweat and oil, and the walls were covered in grime. None of the ponies milling around gave us a second look as we made our way to a big set of double doors marked, “Factory Floor.”
The mares in the room looked just as ragged as Brassity had, and their uniforms looked tattered to the point of hanging on by individual stitches.
“One problem at a time, Minty,” Grapevine whispered as she turned around to face me and the look on my face. “Now, can I trust you to be a big mare and not ruin our cover while I look around for a map?” I nodded, and she smiled. “Good, be back in a few.”
I was left in the middle of the room as she hurried through a side door, and I could hear her hooves clopping down a hallway. That left me, alone, in a room filled with unfamiliar earth ponies. Great.
“You’re new here,” a voice said. I turned around, but didn’t see anypony. “Down here,” it said. Standing in front of me, barely reaching my chest, was a young, cyan mare.
“Uh, yeah, this is my first day,” I lied. “How can you tell?”
She wiped off a grease-stained hoof on my uniform. "You don’t have many of those,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Yes...that’s right,” I offered. I waited to see if she would move; she didn’t.
“Where are you working?” she asked.
“Oh, over in the, you know, on the main line, place, thing,” I said.
The maroon-maned pony before me raised her eyebrow. “You don’t look like a line worker.”
“Well, uh, neither do you,” I said quickly. A flicker of a smile crossed her face. Before we could say anything more, a large stallion poked his head in and barked that break time was over. Dutifully, the ponies around the room filed out of the break room and back onto the factory floor.
“You coming, Pegasus?” the short mare asked.
I looked back at the door Grapevine had went through, but there was no telling if she would be back soon. “Uh, right,” I said, jogging to catch up with her. “The name’s Minty, by the way.”
“I don’t remember asking,” she said. Her voice softened and she offered a hoof. “Herald.” We bumped hooves and walked out onto the factory floor.
* * *
The main floor of the Pullmare Factory wasn’t anything like I had imagined; it was worse. Conveyor belts ran from wall to wall in the massive room, and ponies were packed on each side of them. Hunks of metal and precisely-cut parts rolled down the lines, shaped and molded by the mares working them. The room was oppressively hot, and stank of ozone.
Herald led me to the end of one of the lines, and instructed me that we were to pick random parts coming down the conveyor belt for quality. Small nuts and bolts were carried down the belt toward us, and Herald deftly grabbed part after part for inspection.
Mistaking my glances around the factory floor for exits as nervousness, she said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. You remind me of myself on my first day, and I can tell we're a lot alike.”
“How exactly are we alike?” I asked, picking up a bolt with a crack down the center.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” she said, “Neither of us exactly fit in.” I looked around and saw that our end of the line was deserted but for the two of us. “We’re outcasts; I haven’t grown since I got my cutie mark, and you’re a Germane Pegasus.”
I looked around quickly. “Is it really that noticeable?”
Herald laughed. “You walk like you’re about to take flight at any second, and your accent is thick enough to cut with a knife.” I sighed and shuffled my hooves on the conveyor belt, causing some machine parts to shift and tumble.
The conveyor belt began to speed up, and I could barely keep up with Herald’s pace. “You sure you’ve done this before?” she asked. “I know Pullmare hasn’t hired greenhorns in a while.”
Was that suspicion in her voice: did she know? I couldn’t tell. “Oh, well, I’m just a little rusty,” I said. I chuckled a little in hopes she would think I was joking. At least I didn’t have to disguise my heavy breathing; the humid air on the main floor kept everypony taking huge, gulping breaths.
We worked for a few more minutes in silence. I was still trying to work up what to say next when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I tensed and turned around, ready for whoever had managed to see my disguise.
“You, worker, come with me,” a deep voice said. I turned around, wincing, only to behold...Grapevine. She’d managed to change into an overseer’s uniform, and even wore the official cap low over her eyes.
“Oh, I get it now,” Herald said.
“No, no, this isn’t what it looks like,” I stammered, trying to explain myself.
Instead, she looked past me, and said, “Long time no see, Grapevine.”
“Likewise,” the Grapevine said.
“Wait, what, huh?” I sputtered.
“You didn’t really think somepony named Herald would be a factory worker, did you?” she asked. “I’m here for a story on working conditions for the Times.” She turned to Grapevine. “What about the two of you?”
“Oh, just a little piece on Pullmare,” Grapevine said dismissively. “Nothing big.”
Herald smirked. “You never were one for the easy stories.”
I stuck myself between them and interjected, “Wait a second, you two know each other?”
“Grapevine and I were partners on the Saturday Evening Tribune for a couple of years,” Herald explained. “Good times.”
Grapevine nodded her head in agreement, but her eyes were on the guards positioned around the room at all exits. “As much as I’d love to catch up...” she began.
Herald held up a hoof. “Say no more; you’ve got your story and I’ve got mine.” She returned to her work, but not before looking up and telling me, “You watch out for your partner, you hear?” I hastily agreed and hurried to catch up to a rapidly-walking Grapevine.
She carved a path through the factory workers lining the conveyor belts, her “official” status keeping her from being questioned. I did my best impression of a foal on the way to the Principal's office, following close behind her.
* * *
Another guard checkpoint later, we climbed a flight of stairs to reach the factory’s second level. There, the the walls were lined with offices, all of them empty. Most of the overhead lights weren’t even working.
“Where is everypony?” I asked.
Grapevine walked on the beaten path through the room’s gathered dust. “This room is just for show during the semiannual inspections; Pullmare does all the office work outside the company grounds.”
“You know this how?” I asked, stepping around a fallen ceiling tile.
Grapevine snorted. “Honestly Minty, it’s like you’ve never heard of research.” We reached a wooden door, and she gently opened it. No guards waited for us on the other side, just a catwalk stretching over the factory floor to where Ms. Pullmare’s office lay.
“Careful not to let the guards see you,” Grapevine warned. Through the metal grating of the suspended walkway, I could see some directly below us. Grapevine and I slowly snuck across the catwalk, careful to keep it from swaying.
We were almost across when my foot slipped, causing the walkway to swing back and forth. I clutched the railing for dear life and silently prayed the guards hadn’t heard anything. None of them looked up, though I thought I saw some ears perk up at the sound of the catwalk swaying.
With Grapevine’s insistence, I slid the rest of the way on my belly. “That was too close,” she chided. I got up to see Grapevine levitating a keyring in front of her, and started inserting random keys into the lock.
“Can’t we go anywhere without you stealing something?” I asked. She didn’t respond. Eventually, one of the keys fit the door, and Grapevine pushed it open.
Inside was a small, dark office. Grapevine switched on the lights to reveal a room that looked like a paper tornado had hit it. Overflowing paper cabinets abounded, and the only furniture was a large, messy office table pressed against one wall and some filing cabinets.
“Jackpot,” Grapevine said. She got to work digging through the papers while I stood back, feeling awkward again. “Here,” she said, tossing me my camera. “We can’t take any of these papers with us.”
I tried to act cool, but on the inside I was giddy; I was finally getting to do my job! We set up a little assembly line of our own: Grapevine would sort through a pile of papers, pick up one that looked usable, and pass it to me where it would be photographed. Luckily, she had filled her saddlebag with plenty of spare film, so I wouldn’t run out anytime soon.
“So you were getting chummy with Herald, eh?” she asked once we had settled into a rhythm.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” I said. Flash went the camera, and another sloppily-written note was recorded.
Grapevine laughed. “I’m just joking Minty, lighten up a little.”
I took another picture and asked, "Where do you know her from, anyway?"
I didn't expect her to answer, but she sighed and looked somewhere far away. “Herald and I used to be close, but she got an offer from the Fillydelphia Times, and I got one from the Chronicler back when times were good.” Grapevine paused. “You know the rest.”
I recorded a supply ledger, then nodded my head in agreement. I remembered watching many of the mares in my class catch the first train out of Derbyshire after graduation, heading for places like Manehattan and Canterlot. We continued our documenting routine until Grapevine stopped to hold up one of the notes. That one, unlike the others, seemed to be very recent, and written in the hoofwriting of somepony besides Pullmare.
“Now let’s see what we have here,” Grapevine said, holding it up to the light.
“What’s it say?” I asked.
“It says shut up and let me read for a second,” she said. Her eyes scanned the page, and her brow furrowed. Grapevine finished reading and levitated the paper over to me. “It’s a list of steel and coal companies, and next to their names is written whether they agree or not.” She tapped her chin with one of her hooves. “Too bad we don’t know what they’re agreeing to.”
I took the offered paper and looked at it for myself. Sure enough, Grapevine was right. Most of the companies on the list were so small I didn’t recognize them, but some were pretty big; I saw both Bridlehem Steel and Cantersol Coal mentioned on the list, and both “confirmed,” whatever that meant. It looked like EK and Trottingham Steel were not only out, but their names were sloppily circled. I took my camera out again, and with a flash the piece of paper was documented.
I handed over the camera to Grapevine. “That was the last of the film,” I said. She took the camera and rolls of pictures and placed them in her saddlebags.
“See, that wasn’t so bad at all,” she said. We were just re-messing up the room and about to leave when Grapevine spotted something else. “What’s this?” she asked aloud. Pushing aside a large filing cabinet, she revealed a small door.
Practically giggling, Grapevine said, “Now we’re getting somewhere!” She pushed the door open, revealing a very small closet.
“Do you really need to look inside?” I asked. “We’ve already been here a while as it is...”
Fumbling for the light switch, Grapevine said, “Don’t worry so much; if it makes you feel better, go stand watch at the door.” I sighed and walked back to the center desk; I didn’t particularly feel like poking my head out every time I heard the slightest noise. I opened the desk drawers to look for something to occupy the time while Grapevine rooted inside the closet.
Unfortunately, what was inside the desk wasn’t nearly as interesting as the papers lying around; the ones I couldn’t touch if we wanted it to look like nopony had been here. I started picking through the old newspaper reports about the return of Princess Luna, but couldn’t concentrate when the racket of hoof on metal started.
“Would you mind keeping it down?” I yelled toward the closet door.
“I’m not doing anything,” came the muffled reply. I shook my head, but stopped and looked toward the office door, my paranoia getting the better of me.
Peering cautiously from behind the desk, I looked out across the catwalk. At first, I didn’t see anything, and felt relieved. Then, one guard pony emerged onto the walkway, and another followed. I even saw Ms. Pullmare join them. Hurriedly getting away from the window, I yelled to Grapevine, “It’s Ms. Pullmare; she’s coming!” but didn’t get any reply. Hopefully, she would know enough to hide.
No better option, I jumped under Ms. Pullmare’s desk. I muttered under my breath about being interrupted twice in one day. That day just wasn’t our luck day, I decided. The door clicked open, and two sets of hooves came in, followed by somepony with a lighter step. I tucked myself into the crawlspace beneath the desk once again. If I was lucky, today I would be a two-trick pony.
“Are you sure they were coming here?” I heard Ms. Pullmare ask.
Instead of the gravelly voice of a guard, the reply was soft. “Positive.” My ears shot up: I knew that voice.
“If the two are really in here, then I would gamble that one of them is hiding right here,” Pullmare said. Astoundingly, frighteningly, the desk above lifted up several hooves off the floor, leaving me sitting in the middle of papers cascading off the table. My heart was caught in my throat, and I desperately tried to back away from Ms. Pullmare’s party.
“Oh, there will be none of that, now,” she said. A steel-gray field of magic enveloped my body and dragged me across the floor. “Well well well,” she said. “If it isn’t Grapevine’s stooge.” Pullmare pulled me in close until our faces were almost touching. “Now tell me, crony, where is she?”
“W-who?” I stammered. My hooves left the ground as Ms. Pullmare lifted me in the air and shook. Her voice was cold.
“Tell me, or things will get...messy.”
My legs hopelessly scrambled for purchase, but I found none in the magic field. “I-I don’t know,” I said. “She left me here.”
Pullmare growled and turned back to the mare who betrayed us. “Is she lying?”
Brassity looked pleadingly at me, like she was asking for forgiveness, then turned back to Ms. Pullmare. “No,” she said. “Grapevine must have left her here to explore somewhere else.” I nodded my head enthusiastically, using all my willpower to not look at the half-hidden wooden door.
“I see,” Pullmare said. Her eyes narrowed. “Well, this one will do.” She released me and I dropped to the ground. “Take her away.”
She handed Brassity a small bag. “Here’s your payment, traitor,” she scoffed. “Thirty pieces of gold.” I had never seen anypony so ashamed to take money in my life, but the bits exchanged hooves anyways. The guards picked me up and dragged me out the door.
* * *
The jail cell I had been shoved into stank of urine and mold. I’d been given a cell to myself, but that was the largest hospitality I was offered. The guards had dragged me outside, where policeponies had been waiting to haul me off to jail for breaking and entering.
I sat inside the cell and tried not to think about a life in prison. Grapevine was still free, at least. She would know what to do, or at least I hoped.
My wing of the jailhouse was empty, so the echo of a door opening was almost deafening. An overweight policemare led Ms. Pullmare to my cell, and unlocked the door.
“You have thirty minutes,” she whispered.
Pullmare stepped into my cell with a triumphant look on her face. The guard took one last glance at me and left. Once she was gone, I felt myself being lifted up in the air again.
“It’s good to see you again, Minty,” Pullmare said. She flung me against the back wall of the cell, and stars exploded in my vision. “Two times in one day you invade a private office of mine,” she said, stepping toward where I lay crumpled on the ground. “Did you really think you would get away with it?”
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” I said, sounding more brave than I felt. My head was slammed against the wall again.
Ms. Pullmare laughed. “Oh Minty Flower, I’m not here to find out whatever idiotic ‘plan’ you and that reporter came up with.” She gingerly picked up my head in one of her hooves, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “No, no, I’m here to punish you; to make sure you never set foot in my town again.” She slapped me across the face, though this time I had at least been expecting it. Ms. Pullmare backed up and let me pull myself from the ground. She laughed. “Do you know what they say about chains, Minty?”
I coughed and tried not to put undue pressure on my head. “Does it matter?” I asked wearily. This time when she levitated me in the air, it was only by my throat.
“It would be wise to play along,” she growled. Pullmare let me drop to the ground, gasping for air.
“I don’t know, what do they say?” I coughed. She slapped me, though from the look in her eyes, this time it was just for fun.
“There is a chain stretching from you all the way up to Marshmallow and Grapevine.” She smiled gleefully and said in dark voice, “They say a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and intend to break that link.”
Before I could say anything else, a rope of Pullmare’s magic extended from her horn and wrapped itself around my midsection. My mind began to panic as I lost the ability to move, or to breathe.
“And so, the weakest link breaks,” Pullmare said. The magic tightened harder and harder, like a vice clamping around my stomach. The scream I’d been holding in erupted out of my mouth as I felt a rib break with a resounding crack, and then another and another. Tears streamed from my eyes even as her hold on me broke, depositing me into a crumpled mess on the floor.
I wanted to look strong, to be strong for my friends, but I all I could do was lie there, crying. I coughed, and only blood came out. “W-Why?” I whispered in shuddering gasps.
“Because somepony needs to be taught a lesson,” she said, “And what better pony than you: the weak, spineless follower?” I couldn’t talk, but she must have seen the message in my eyes.
“Oh, don’t delude yourself into thinking you have friends,” Ms. Pullmare said. She sighed. “Ponies like you have an annoying tendency to latch themselves onto the first mare that gives them the time of day.” Pullmare laughed. “Do you know why Grapevine continues to hang around an insipid twat like you?” she asked.
If I hadn’t been lying in a small pool of my own blood, I would have sarcastically told her that I couldn’t answer while lying in a small pool of my own blood. Not that she needed input from me, anyway: she continued right along as if I wasn’t even there.
“You’re not her friend,” Pullmare said. “You’re her surrogate! Her photographer and lover nearly dies, he leaves her when she ignores him for her job, and only now she’s back to normal when she finds his replacement!” Her accent had begun to slip from an educated, Canterlot mare to somepony fresh off the streets of Trottingham.
“She doesn’t see you as an equine being, Minty,” Pullmare continued, talking to me like I was a child. “To her, you’re just a stand in: a reminder of her good, old days.” She laughed. “Not that things are any better with the ‘Princess.’ Do you really think she’d risk what’s left of her royal reputation to help a reporter and photographer if she wasn’t hoping for a story to get her back into good graces with the Royal Court?”
My brain was so cloudy at that point, that I didn’t even know what to believe. I didn’t care. I figured, no, knew I was going to die in that cell at the feet of a monster. I closed my eyes and gasped, “Why are you telling me this? Just end it.” I tried to look brave.
Instead, Pullmare pulled me across the slick floor. My head was raised so I could look her in the face through my blurry eyes. “Oh no, I’m not going to kill you, Minty,” she said. “I’m not that bad. Instead, I’ll give you one chance.” Under the effects of her magic, my head twisted around until I was looking out the cell’s window.
“Go home, Minty,” Pullmare said soothingly. “Leave this city and never come back. We can both forget this little mess ever happened, and everypony can return to their normal lives.” My head rotated back to face hers. “How does that sound?”
Before leaving Derbyshire, I don’t think I’d ever made any decision that put me in actual danger. I’d spent most of my days indoors, playing out my fantasies through writing about them. My parents called me “timid.” They told me they were so proud that I never got in trouble, never put myself in danger.
“No,” I croaked.
“What was that?” Pullmare asked. She cocked her ear toward me, like she already knew my answer.
I coughed up another spittle of blood and managed to growl, “No.”
Ms. Pullmare’s brow darkened, and her eyes danced with fury. “I didn’t want to do this, Minty, but you’re not leaving me another choice,” she said coldly. “It’ll only cost a little extra to cover up your disappearance: fire doesn’t leave much evidence.” Somewhere, my brain registered that it looked like her eyes had caught on fire. A tongue of flame extended from her horn, and began to tickle the edges of my coat, singing it black. “Just close your eyes, dear,” she cooed. “It’ll all be over in a moment.”
The heat and pain grew, and I started devoting my final thoughts to hoping the afterlife was somewhere cool. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the heat was taken away. When I peeked from between the hooves crossed in front of my face, I saw Fillydelphia’s mayor pressed spread-eagle against the iron bars of my cell.
“There will be quite enough of that, sister,” a voice growled. Rainbow Remedy stepped from behind the figure of Ms. Pullmare. She tried to struggle against the magic field, but it didn’t budge. Remedy gasped when his gaze swept over me. I must have been quite the sight: a broken and bruised Pegasus lying in her own blood. Springing to action, his horn glowed that greenish-yellow-purple color again and my body was enveloped by a soothing, rainbow-colored, magic bubble.
From inside the magic field, I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Remedy looked like he was giving his sister an earful. The bubble began to glow brighter and I could feel my body start to heal, again. Ribs snapped into place and scars closed themselves. When the bubble popped with a burst of seven colors, I was still in bad shape, but unlikely to die anytime soon.
Remedy looked at me before turning back to Pullmare. “You’re lucky we’re in a police station,” he growled. “If you come near me or Minty again, you’ll regret it.” His sister stared defiantly at him, unable to speak. Remedy shook his head and walked away, head held high. I, having no ideas of taking the high road after being mercilessly beaten, settled for quickly giving Pullmare a swift kick to the babymaker and hurrying out of the cell before the magic field could wear off.
“You’re bond’s been paid,” Remedy explained when I caught up. “You’re free to go.”
The policeponies in the station refused to look at me, still covered in bruises and slowly-healing scars, as we walked out.
* * *
Down the front steps, a battered steamcarriage waited for us. Once we were both strapped into the worn-carpeted seats, a flash from Remedy’s horn set us off with coal smoke pouring from the front smokestack.
“Grapevine told me what happened,” Remedy said once the police station was out of sight. “She wanted to come, but I persuaded her to allow me instead.”
I grunted a thanks. With the adrenaline flow gone, I just felt...tired. I didn’t want to think anymore, or try to figure out what happened: I just wanted to sleep. Outside, the city was dark save the fancier houses around the financial districts. When I had last looked at a clock, it had been sometime early in the morning.
I could sense that Remedy wanted to talk, but I kept my back turned to him and preoccupied myself with looking out the carriage’s window. Boredly, I traced a hoof around the edges of my scars.
Remedy noticed. “She wasn’t always like that, you know,” he said.
I snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”
He winced and I felt bad, but I wasn’t going to just forgive his sister because she wasn’t always an evil monster.
“We used to call her Golden,” Remedy whispered. He didn’t say more. Looking at his slumped-over form, I could hardly believe he could possibly be related to my tormentor. Worse, it looked like he was blaming himself for what happened. I wanted to reach out, to say something, but I couldn’t find the words.
We rode quietly over the cobblestone streets, Remedy letting his magic guide the carriage.
* * *
My head must have still been messed up, because I didn’t notice where we were until the steamcarriage stopped in front of Broad Street Station. “Why’d we come here?” I said.
“You heard my sister, didn’t you?” Remedy said. He pointed to the station. “If you don’t get out the city, she’ll just come back for you again.”
“What about you threatening her?” I asked. If he had looked at me the same way he had his sister, I wouldn’t have wanted to even see him again, let alone make him even more angry.
Remedy shook his head. “I’m just one pony, Minty. My sister controls half the city: as long as she’s in power, there isn’t anywhere you can go in Fillydelphia that she can’t follow.”
“So what, that’s it: your sister wins and I leave without a word” I said. “Aren’t you going to tell me to stay, tell me that my friends need me?”
Remedy shrugged and opened my door with a flash of magic. “There’s only one pony who can decide what you should do.” He handed me a ticket. “Your things will be shipped to you.”
I looked down at the golden ticket. It was my trip out of here: my escape. I could go home and forget all about Fillydelphia and Grapevine and Pullmare and Sterling. Back home, I would be safe. If I was lucky, I could land a job as a photographer for the Derbyshire Gazette.
I peered through the open door of the steamcarriage at the massive entrance to the train station. Looking down at the ticket again, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness. For all its golden promises, the idea of leaving the city behind felt sickeningly wrong. I’d worked my whole life to become a reporter, and I had even made it onto the staff of a big city newspaper. Sure, I was a photographer, but I could work my way up. If I turned back now, then what was the point to everything I’d ever done?
Resolutely, I hoofed the ticket back to Rainbow Remedy. “I’m staying,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Pullmare won’t likely show any leniencey next time.”
I slammed the door of the carriage and pointed out across the city, over dirty rooftops and under skyscrapers gleaming in the moonlight, to West Fillydelphia. “Let’s go.”
* * *
We rode back over the midnight-blue Scullyhoof River and back into the factory district. Most of the houses was dark, but Joya’s shop shined like a diamond in a cave.
“Seems they’re waiting for you,” he said. The steam-car pulled to the curb near the shop, and he let me out.
“Will I see you again?” I said. He kept the engine running, and I had to shout to be heard over the noise.
“Find me if you need me; Grapevine will know where,” Remedy said. He took off with a stutter from his steamcarriage's engine, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
I looked through windows discolored with smog into Joya’s shop, and saw Grapevine curled up on a chair, asleep. I couldn’t see Joya around, but assumed she must have been somewhere inside.
I reached out a shaking hoof to the doorknob, but when I tried to open the door, it refused. I wanted to ignore everything Pullmare had said and rush inside, forelegs open wide for a great big hug. I tried to open the door again, but something in my mind stopped me. What if Pullmare was right? What if I was only being used?
No, I decided. I couldn’t do this tonight. My hoof lowered from the doorknob to the ground. Everything had gone so wrong...I needed time to think. I needed time to decide what to do. Profiled in front of the moon, I could spot Serenity floating serenely in the sky. Something clicked inside my head, and I knew what I was going to do.
I started walking back to the center city, back to the airport. It was just about time I had another talk with Lightning Sprint.
* O *
End: Episode 1: Mare of Steel - Part 1
Next: Episode 2: Mare of Steel - Part 2
Stats
Page generated in 0.027 seconds
Total duration
776 users online
1,156,768 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Honestly, I don't know why this story doesn't have a few thousand more views.
The writing is excellent, the characters are rather fun. It has steam (I may be biased), and ,although a little slow at first, the story has good action.
I am very happy that this landed on SALT, it was quite fun to read. Keep it up Toixstory!
Congrats on making it onto EqD. I don't usually like OC stories but this one looks interesting. I'll have to give it a read later.
You had me at "steampunk."
NOTE:
User codename "BlackBox" has started to become interested in this. He states that he requires creative inspiration from this file. He requests that you be more awesome, if possible.
Right now you and this story just took up in the fight my favorite story that is still being worked on.
and a KH crossover that I'm been enjoying.
Good luck though, your up against CardsLafter and his story Through the Eyes of Another Pony
Why are there so many good stories out there.
Wow, that was great!
Brilliant story! Absolutely brilliant! I sincerely hope to see more of this soon my friend!
As a side note, you have the following line.
-- Herald held up a hoof. “Say no more; you’ve got my story and I’ve got mine.” She returned to her work, but not before looking up and telling me, “You watch out for your partner, you hear?” I hastily agreed and hurried to catch up to a rapidly-walking Grapevine. --
I believe you mean 'You've got your story and I've got mine.' Aside from that, keep it coming! I cannot wait to see what happens next!
This has been an excellent read so far, Toixstory! Love the crazy characters, the varied and bustling settings, just all the in-depth brilliance from your descriptive tend! Bravo, bravo!
Thank you for sharing this with me, with all of us. Be well until next time!
438664
Heh, oops.
The line is now fixed.
That was great! I couldn't stop reading!
I'm having a lot of fun reading this, I cant wait to see what happens next. Keep up the good work. By the way, is there a update schedule? or do you just update whenever a chapter is finished?
470963
For the next few chapters, I'm going to try to keep a bi-weekly update schedule. So, if possible, the next chapter will be up next Tuesday/Wednesday. At the very least, I'll have the next five chapters done by the end of May. After that, I'll probably move to a quicker update schedule with summer and all.
470995
Awesome, I can't wait.
And that, good writer, is how you pitch a freaking amazing episode. :D
Aha, so we are in the future- probably the relatively near future, enough so that the Silver Spoon we met earlier is likely the grown-up version of the one we know.
This sounds... historically similar.
There's only one thing I don't like about this story so far, and the beginning of this chapter is hammering it home. I happen to be a capitalist, and the theme of 'evil corporation that abuses its own employees' tends to really annoy me. Still, given the atmosphere of the story, I'm willing to let it slide. I just wish it wasn't such a common theme throughout all media.
Gods, there are reporters everywhere. I don't suppose there's going to be any time that these two are on a scoop and don't bump into another reporter coincidentally looking for something in the exact same location at the exact same time? How many newspapers are there in this town, anyway?
Well, the stakes have finally been set. I was wondering if this story would descend to that level of dark, and it finally did. Suddenly I'm much more interested in where this story will lead.