After discovering some old scrolls while doing research for a school project, Apple Bloom has some hard questions that need answering. Questions that Big Mac has spent his entire life trying to forget.
After discovering some old scrolls while doing research for a school project, Apple Bloom has some hard questions that need answering. Questions that Big Mac has spent his entire life trying to forget.
***Third story in the 'Ask' one-shot series. These are stand alone stories and can be read in any order. For the others, follow these links: Ask Snowflake Ask Diamond Tiara
*** Props to Superfortress78 Who made a really neat Equestrian Calendar resource, which I used in a slightly modified form for the dates in this story.
“Phew!” Big Macintosh exclaimed as he brought his heavy hoof up to wipe away the sweat that was streaming from his titian brow. Having reached the end of the final row, he sat back on his haunches and gazed out upon the freshly tilled field that had been his morning's work. Afternoon’s work too, more like, he thought to himself as he lifted his squinting eyes up toward the slowly retreating sun. Breathing deep the farm fresh air, Mac allowed himself a quiet moment to enjoy the satisfaction that accompanied a few hours of honest labour and a job well done, before slowly turning his mind to the next chore on his list.
He rose back to his feet; though a little slower than he had been able to manage just a few short years ago he noted wryly. With one last contented sigh, he turned his back to the golden warmth of the sun and headed toward the tool barn. The massive plow tugged upon his heavy yoke as he walked through the fallow surrounding the bright red building at the center of the Apple family farmland. Moving around the barn, absently pulling the plow behind him as though its considerable weight was nothing more than a mere logistical annoyance, he made his way to the large double door entrance.
“Hmhp,” Big Mac grunted as he noted the doors were standing wide open. Could have sworn Ah’d closed up after mahself. Stupid horse, he shook his head softly in annoyance, this is how you get your barn full up of squattin varmints again. A shiver ran down his back as he recalled the strip AJ had torn off him last time he had left the barn doors open all night and a family of opossums had decided to hole up for the winter.
Shrugging it off, Big Macintosh entered the barn and started to put away the plowing equipment. A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he walked across the pristine interior of the tool barn and placed his reins back on the rack. Then again, even if we did get ourselves another infestation, quicker just to wait till the whole dang barn gets destroyed again then try an’ evict them. Reckon it happens about every moon or so anyway. Big Mac chuckled at the thought.
He had just collected his heavy wooden toolbox, making extra sure it contained a full box of nails this time, and was about to set out towards the often broken gazebo in the picnic area of Ponyville Park (this particular instance due to what he suspected was the rambunctious actions of a few accused but as of yet unconvicted young fillies he was familiar with), when he heard a soft rustling coming from the storage loft near the back of the barn.
Ah dang it, Big Mac grit his teeth in annoyance. Varmints! I’ll never hear the end of it now. Applejack’s long memory and quick anger at anything that compromised the working condition of the farm was still recent in his memory. He took a quick look outside to make sure she wasn’t headed his way. Seeing nothing, he quietly crossed the hay-strewn floor toward the loft’s access ladder. He reached out and took into his teeth one of the old corn sacks from a pile, its rough burlap still soiled with dirt and covered with corn silk from last year’s harvest. If I scoop this critter up real quick, I can drop it off at Miss Shy’s cottage on my way to town and AJ’ll be none the wiser, Big Mac’s lips curled in a tiny conspiratorial smirk.
Big Macintosh mentally prepared himself and kept his muscular limbs primed for a quick snatch as he eased himself quietly up the ladder. As he climbed past the midpoint, his considerable weight caused a rung to voice its distress as a painfully loud creak. Dang it, he cursed himself as he froze mid-step and listened. The soft rustling ceased and was replaced only by the sound of wind lightly swishing through the grass in the surrounding fallow field. Dang it, he cursed himself again, hoping the critter wouldn't bolt as soon as he peaked his head above the floorboards. Doubling his readiness and gripping the sack hard in his teeth, Mac climbed the remaining rungs and quickly scanned the loft for the offending animal, lifting his chosen weapon high.
Surprise took him before he could act however, for instead of some wayward critter nestling into a pile of loose hay, he saw the soft orange hue of the largest pair of eyes in all of Equestria. And they were staring right back at him. Apple Bloom was sitting alone amongst stacks of cardboard boxes, her eyes wide and glittering in the soft amber aura of a low wicked oil lamp, her brows knit in confusion and worry. Big Mac’s protective instincts flared up instantly.
“Apple Bloom, is everything alright?” He quickly mounted the rest of the ladder and crossed the creaky floorboards toward the somber looking filly, dropping the burlap to the side as he spoke. “What are you doin' up here all alone…”
Big Macintosh halted his stride in an instant as a fear unlike anything the powerfully built stallion had ever felt froze his heart. A fear whose source was the sight of what lay at the youngest Apple’s feet. One of the older boxes in the loft, cardboard nearly turned back to soil by the combination of age and moisture, sat open. Decade old memorabilia, photographs and, most dreaded of all, parchment scrolls were scattered upon the floor as if dropped by an uncaring hoof. The rough letters upon the side of the box were now just barely legible but for Big Mac’s memory, where they were as crisp as the day he wrote them.
Neigh York City.
He felt his skin and ears flushed in panic as sweat beaded and rolled down his powerful shoulders. The teeth in his powerful jaw clenched hard enough to make his head ache. Land sakes, how much did she see? Ah havta get her out of here. Now! Big Macintosh mind reeled wildly as he attempted, in vain, to regain his composure.
“Common now Apple Bloom. You’d best get back to yer chores,” Mac somehow kept his voice steady and he did his best imitation of nonchalance as he continued his approach. Perplexed and troubled eyes were his only response.
Oh Princesses no, what does she have in her hooves? Apple Bloom's eyes fell away from Big Mac’s, down to the parchment she held.
Please, Celestia, Luna ... Discord, I don’t care who, just please don’t let that be… “Apple Bloom, ya heard me now! Go on, get!” Fear found its outlet through anger as he spoke. His footsteps felt heavy as he walked, as if the very air were resisting his advance.
“Big Brother, … what … what is this?” Apple Bloom’s face once more raised to meet his own.
He stood just in front of her. Trepidation stole any response he may have been able to voice. He did not dare say anything, not until he knew what exactly she held. Mac bit his tongue till he tasted blood, struggling to maintain a neutral expression. Apple Bloom’s eyes repeated her question, eyes flicking between his own and the parchment.
Dang it, no way outta this spot. I haveta say somethin. Big Mac swallowed hard, but first I have to know what she found. Standing across from her as he was, Mac couldn’t quite see what was written on the parchment. Perhaps this was as mundane and easy to explain as a rent receipt or some of the extensive notes he had taken during that period of his life. If so, all his fear and tension were for nothing and he could make the box and its contents disappear in a roaring bonfire after shooing the smaller pony away. But if it’s anything else...
No way around it. Mac clenched his jaw tighter and leaned forward with more hesitancy than as if he were peeking within a full grown dragon’s maw. As his gaze crested the top of the scroll and past, he could easily make out the crisp quill-work of the title.
Neigh York Regional Hospital
At once, the fear that had gripped his heart and set his skin aflame congealed into a cold dread that sank heavily into the pit of his stomach. Mac didn’t need to read the rest of the document. He knew it by heart. Oh no … no. Not now. Not after all this time.
“Big Brother, I don’t understand what I’m lookin’ at here,” the waver in Apple Bloom’s voice betrayed the war between suspicion and trust going on behind her eyes. “Ah was just searchin’ through these old boxes for a school project on family history. An when I open this here box, I find a bunch of things that make it seem like you used to live in the big city…” her tiny eyebrow raised with the question.
Oh princess, please let it stop there.
“... Eeyup,” Mac said, mind racing for a solution that it knew full well lay too far out of its reach.
No, not yet. Not now. The cold pit in his gut suddenly exploded into thousands of tendrils which squirmed under his skin and all the way through to his limbs, rooting him in place; as if the guilt he held in his heart were afraid he would flee before it had its chance to finally see the light.
“I don’t remember you ever saying that you lived in Neigh York City before, Big Mac…” Apple Bloom lead, giving him a chance.
Dang, she sounds like AJ sometimes. The same way of speakin', like she’s givin' you a test n’ letting you fill in the blanks. A flair of pride briefly lit his expression before he remembered himself. Mac attempted a dry swallow. I reckon this here is a test Ah can’t pass.
“It was a long time ago, Apple Bloom. Before you were born. Ah never mentioned it cause I don’t give it no never mind anymore, and neither should you.”
Please, let that be it. Tendrils wriggled, making it seem his very flesh was crawling. A thousand scenarios, ways to end the conversation before it went further, flashed through his head. Deflect, avoid, rage, run—
“And then, Ah find this,” Apple Bloom continued as if he hadn’t spoke, turning the parchment over and giving him full view. Big Mac’s eyes flicked down as if against his will, and gazed at the source of his dread.
Neigh York Regional Hospital
Birth Certificate
This certifies that Apple Bloom of the Ponyville Apples was born in the Neigh York Regional Hospital of Equestria at 3:45am on the fifteenth day of the Hearth’s Hold Moon , 990 A.B.
Big Mac’s eyes skipped over the legalese that filled the rest of the document. It seemed to him that the cold pit in his stomach had now swollen, threatening to burst and fill his veins with ice water. Mac involuntarily shivered.
“Why does this say Ah was born during Hearth’s Hold, Big Mac?” Suspicion starting to get the upper hand in the battle being fought behind her words. “Mah birthday is on the 20th of New Star. This is a whole moon after that”
Panic formed words on Mac’s tongue quicker than his mind could keep up, “oh you know how it is, Apple Bloom. Haven a birthday so close to Hearth's Warming Eve would have been too hard on everypony, what with the gift buyin' an all. Ma and Pa figured we should push your birthday back, and give it a little room to breath.”
The lie sounded so ridiculous that Big Mac had to make a conscious effort to restrain himself from reaching out and trying to snatch back the words as they hung heavy in the air before him. Stupid horse! Should have said it's a typo or somthin! There's no way—
“Big Mac… Momma and Poppa died on the 26th of New Star. Applejack showed me the newspaper clippings from the accident. Last year when I asked her about them,” Apple Bloom’s gaze sharpened and Mac heard the trust in her voice flicker as low as the flame in the weakly lit lantern that sat between them. “What’s really goin on?”
Big Macintosh said nothing. The hurt in the young Apple’s words caused the fear coursing through his system to finally find its way through his carefully crafted mask. His eyes grew wide and his lips pressed so firmly together they were nothing more than thin white lines. Sweat once more formed upon his brow and shoulders.
Seeing the change in his always unflappable and steady demeanor, Apple Bloom’s expression traded its confusion and suspicion for anger and a fear of her own. Fear of something she wasn’t being told. Something important.
“Well?” The words adopted a hard edge, though there was a frenetic distress underlying the anger. “What the hay is goin on, Big Mac?”
He said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to utter a single syllable.
After what seemed an impossibly long silence and without another word muttered, the coward turned and descended the ladder, walking out of the darkening barn with head hung shamefully low on drooped shoulders.
A reddish orange sliver of light flickered into existence over the endless field of grassy knolls that formed the picturesque backdrop of Sweet Apple Acres as the new dawn made its presence known.
Thunk!
Apples rained down as a mighty blow reverberated up the thick trunk and shook its way into the tree’s dense canopy. Dang it Big Mac! Why didn't ya burn that box when you first came back? What were y’all thinkin’?
Thunk!
The loud impact from the massive hind hooves was followed by a soft patter as the swollen red fruit rolled off the overflowing wicker baskets and onto the soft blue-green grass that carpeted the orchard. You left. Apple Bloom was just sitting there, confused and scared, and you just left her there, alone.
Thunk!
Limbs, now bereft of their fruit, shook hard. A snow of verdant green foliage falling in their place. Ma an’ Pa ‘moved’ her birthday? Ah can't believe that's what you came up with. The old you would have known just what to say. Always did. Filthy Rich used to say you could sell a cloudsdale house to a family of earth ponies, and have them give a pat on the back for your trouble.
Thunk!
The trunk of the formerly lush apple tree now sat at a thirty degree angle from the earth beneath it. Loose sticks had begun dropping from the outreaching limbs under the assault of the mighty earth pony’s vented frustration. Ahh, what are you thinking now, you stupid horse! It’s the pony you used to be that went and mucked everything up in the first place! Why, If it wasn't for you-
Crack!
Big McIntosh recoiled as his hoof shattered its way through the trunk of the once mighty apple tree. His powerful hind leg lodged between the two splintered halves as he tried to pull away. “Dang it!” he had time to yelp before he lost balance and tumbled down hard to the ground.
Dust settled on the stunned Big Mac as he lay prone. After a few unsuccessful moments of struggling to free his hoof from the ruined tree, the anger that had begun to bubble up once more suddenly ebbed, before flowing out again with an exhausted sigh. Big Mac stopped struggling and allowed himself to collapse into the soft ground below.
He laid still in the cool dewy grass for a long moment, shivering from the chill before it was chased away by the coppery warmth of the cresting sun. Without the will to even lift his head, Mac’s eyes nonetheless rose from their downward cast and looked up at the Apple family farmhouse that lay some distance away. Despite the early hour, the second floor bedroom window facing the west orchard was dimly lit with the flickering amber glow of an oil lamp.
She hasn’t slept a wink all night, Big Mac’s eyes drooped low again. Ah need to go talk to her. Straighten things out. The words rang hollow to his mind even as he thought them. He sunk lower into the ground, an invisible weight resting heavily on his shoulders. Cept’ in this world, some things just can’t be straightened out. Some things were so twisted and ugly, the only way to live with them was to bury them deep and then spend every day trying to forget they existed. At least, that had worked until yesterday.
And it was all your fault, stupid horse. Y’all should never have left. The moment the spontaneous thought was formed, his heart was stabbed with a blade of fresh guilt. “No... No, you don't mean that,” Mac’s thoughts came out in a soft whisper as his eyes grew blurry with tears. “But, maybe it would have been best if y’all had just stayed gone.” Warm tears began to fall as Mac’s mind lost itself in the memory, well over a decade old, but still as fresh as a field of green wheat in his mind.
Little Mac was a dreamer. He hadn’t always known exactly what path his destiny would take, but he was pretty sure it wasn't to spend his whole life mucking stalls in his family's barn. He could hardly lift half the farm tools with his skinny limbs, anyway. That is, on the rare occurrence that he was spotted actually doing his chores for once, instead of reading the latest fantasy novel he had borrowed from Golden Oak. It was almost a daily ritual for Pa to find Little Mac hidden away somewhere reading and lecture him about getting his head out of the books and back to the land where it belonged.
Mac could still hear his Pa’s words, “Runnin' this here farm is a family affair, Little Mac! School is for reading, home is for working.” Then Little Mac, his small rebellion quashed, would return to feeding the chickens, or shearing the sheep, or whatever other mindless work needed doing. The only ray of hope he held onto from this humdrum existence was that, despite working the farm for his whole life, he still hadn’t received his cutie mark. The light teasing he received from his classmates on the subject didn't bother him in the slightest. The flank that others saw as merely blank, he saw as open; open to a boundless number of non-farm related opportunities.
His revelation had come when his eighth grade class had its field trip to the PonCo. head office, to see how big business contributed to the Equestrian economy. He remembered growing bored and breaking away from the group to explore alone. He remembered seeing a well dressed and confident business pony striding away from a conference room with a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. He remembered the roaring laughter of enamoured investors and board members, muffled slightly by the thick glass door as it swung shut.
“Hahahaha; oh, keep your eye on that boy! … Plot-head! Bwahahahaha!”
Noticing his pint-sized observer as he strode over to the exit, the business pony had stopped and given a wink, saying “That’s how it’s done in this world kid; buy when everypony else is selling, always have the most expensive suit in the room, and always always leave the rich guys wanting more.”
Mac had been speechless. The pony in front of him was cool, calm, and the center of everyone's attention. From the cut of his clothes to the deliberate and confident way he spoke, everything screamed … Success. Excitement. Importance. Things he had never felt working the farm with Pa.
After what seemed like an hour, but was really just a few seconds, Big Mac was just able to squeak out, “I want that more than anything!”
Cocky grin spreading into an honest smile, the young business pony rested a hoof on the colt’s shoulder. “Well you're off to a good start then kid,” he said, “cause you know what they call Neigh York City, doncha?”
Little Macintosh shook his head.
“They call it ‘The Big Apple’,” he said, nodding towards Little Mac’s flank. Throwing over one more casual smile, he made his way toward the exit, a trio of fawning personal assistants falling in tow behind him.
Mac finally shook free of his amazement and looked back to find the large green apple of his newly formed cutie mark. “The Big Apple,” he whispered. Little Macintosh felt a smile of his own grow on his lips as his imagination had taken off.
The business pony paused for a moment as he reached the elevator and, as an afterthought, he turned his head and called back, “hey, why don't you look me up when you set up shop here, kid. Name’s Venture Capital.”
As soon as he had returned home he had started making his plans. He re-selected all his courses for his first year at Ponyville high (just in time before the submission deadline). He took his meager life savings and went to Ponyville's only clothing store, walking out with a sharp looking, albeit cheaply made, suit. He returned all the novels he had checked out from the Golden Oak and cleared out their business section.
Most excitedly, Mac had even managed to take on a seasonal part time job with Filthy Rich, helping him with the selling side of the Zap Apple Jam when it was harvest time. Little Mac had proven an eager learner and a gifted salesman. Filthy seemed to enjoy taking the young colt under his wing, explaining the business side of how his farm and the rest of Ponyville worked. Mac had relished in every moment of his tutelage through those early years, though Filthy would always shy away from the topic of taking Mac on full time after he finished school. He had never said why, but Mac had a frustrating certainty that his Pa had something to do with it. Mac had guessed, correctly as it turned out, that as much as Filthy enjoyed showing Mac the world of business, and in fact benefited from his youthful insight on these matters, he would never jeopardize the professional relationship he had with the Apple Family by taking him on without their blessing.
He remembered the day, during an otherwise unremarkable family dinner, when he finally built up his nerve and told his Ma and Pa, head held high, that he was going to follow his dreams and leave home to make it in the big city.
Their reaction was not as positive as he had hoped.
His announcement was first met with several moments of stunned silence. Little Mac had shifted uncomfortably in his seat, awkward under his parents surprised and, in the case of Pa, dismayed looks. The moment stretched until finally it was little AJ who had spoke up, young face scrunched in innocent confusion, “does this mean that Little Mac is gonna be like one of those ponies from the bank who always tell us we havta work harder, Pa? Cause Ah don’t like those ponies.”
“None of us do Applejack, now eat your dinner.”
“Now that’ll be enough, from both of you!” Ma had spoken up, recovering from the shock of her son’s announcement. “Applejack, your brother has the right to make his own way, just like we all do,” Ma had sent a pointed look at Pa despite addressing his sister. “If this is what he really wants … well, we will find a way to make it work.”
The rest of the dinner was finished in relative silence, with Pa sporadically muttering to himself about hiring new farmhands and how they were going to afford it. Guilt and anger swirled together within Little Mac’s breast at his father's reaction. Didn’t Pa get to choose his destiny? Just because he liked to spend his time plowing dirt didn’t mean that Mac had to spend his life doing the same. It’s not his fault he wasn’t built to be a farm pony. Looking up from his slim frame, he caught the worried but reassuring gaze of his Ma from across the table. Ma hadn’t said a word, but reached over and placed her hoof lightly on his. A small smile crept on Mac’s face and he stole another quick glance of the big apple on his flank. It will all work out for the best, he had thought, it’s my destiny.
Years passed, and Mac had grown into a young stallion. Newly graduated from Ponyville High, his spirits and ambitions were at an all time high. He had been accepted into the Neigh York City internship program a week before his final exams. It was unusually early for such a thing; ponies normally had to take a year or two of prep courses before a big corporation such as Venture Inc. would even consider showing any interest.
Mac, however, had never once doubted that his application would be accepted. It was his destiny after all. Plus he had a glowing reference in the form of his old mentor Filthy Rich. Nothing would stand in his way.
Mac smiled as he remembered the ironclad conviction he once had in his youth.
His send away was bittersweet. Ma, Pa, Little AJ, and the newly arrived Granny Smith who had moved in to help out around the house in his absence, all stood at the farm’s threshold as they wished Mac, (Big Mac now, as he had more than filled out the spindly frame he had as a colt), a tearful goodbye. Even Pa, who had never made a secret of the fact he hadn’t approved of Mac leaving the farm, hugged his son and told him to stay safe and send a letter if he needed anything. Mac’s eyes watered as he remembered how his Pa had removed the cowpony hat he had worn since before Mac could remember and placed on his son’s head, with the words “Ah know we haven’t gotten along these last few moons Mac, but if you ever get confused or worried, or you just don’t know what to do … well, I’m here for ya boy. No questions asked.”
One final embrace and Mac climbed into the taxi wagon that would take him to the train station. So excited to start his new future as Equestria’s newest business mogul that he forgot to cast another backward glance to his waiving kin as he rode away.
It was on day one of his internship that he had first laid eyes on her.
The intimidation Mac had felt as he stood in front of the Venture Inc. Headquarters had been enough to crumble even his bedrock confidence. The multistory building towered over all others near it, as if asserting the company’s dominance through sheer size alone. An unfamiliar hesitancy had stayed Mac’s advance for a few moments until he had been able to collect himself.
Ah haven’t come all this way to stop before Ah start. This is mah destiny. Gritting his teeth, Mac pushed through the revolving doors.
“Kid!” He had hardly entered the building when an excited voice called to him over the crowded reception area. Looking up, Mac saw Venture, in an even more expensive suit than last time, as he rushed over. The throngs of business ponies interrupted their conversations as they hurriedly parted way for him. “Kid, I knew you’d make it!” Venture reached the younger stallion and threw his foreleg around Mac’s shoulders.
“Well, I rekon that makes both of us, Mr. Capital,” Mac said, confidence flooding back into him at the warm greeting.
“Hah, I like that! And call me Venture, please!” The older pony said as he guided Mac to the bank of elevators at the far end of the hall. “Come on kid, and we’ll get you settled in. I’ve already had somepony make up a desk for you in the intern office.”
“That’s right kind of you Mr. Capit … Venture.” Mac said, though his returning confidence did nothing to sate his curiosity. “Though, I must say I didn't expect the CEO himself to be the one greeting me.”
“Ahh don’t worry about that, Kid! I’ve had my eye on you since you were a colt! Ain’t nobody as excited as I am to see what you’re going to make of yourself here.”
A cautions smile formed on Big Mac’s lips. “Well thanks for that, Sir. Ah guess … Ah just don’t know what Ah’ve done to deserve your interest.”
Venture only smiled. “Kid, I never would have gotten as far as I have without trusting my gut. You took one look, just one look, at a boardroom meeting as a colt and BLAMO, cutie mark. My gut says you got the light on ya, kid. Anypony whose destiny is to make it in big business is a good pony to have around, as far as I’m concerned.”
Big Mac had no response other than a broad smile. Arm in hoof, he let Venture lead him further into the building.
Venture had been giving him a personal tour of the office when a flurry of warm bodies and sharp hooves had suddenly swept up to the pair, papers fluttering and many voices all vying for attention. Whatever the emergency was, Big Mac could no longer remember clearly, though he thought it may have been something about an important merger falling through. What he could remember, however, was the pain of sudden impact and being sent skidding across the waxed office floors as the hurricane of corporate cogs flew by, rushing whatever vital information they carried to Venture. Mac had clumsily attempted rise back to his feet, though in his dazed state he achieved nothing but skidding his hooves fruitlessly and falling once more to the hard tile of the floor.
“Woah, easy big guy. No need to hurt yourself there.” Mac shook the stars from his eyes only to see a pale hoof hovering in front of his face. “Really though, you should pay more attention. Fast Lane is a dangerous place to be!”
Big Mac took the hoof and eased himself up with a grunt. “Harumph!” Mac steadied himself and raised his head to look up at his accidental assailant “And just what in the hay is the Fast Lane…”
Mac trailed off as his gaze swept up to look at the young mare who had sent him sprawling. It wasn’t the soft cream colour of her coat, the tall and shapely figure, or even the deep crimson and burgundy of her prim cut mane that stole his breath. It was the blazing orange of the most amazing eyes Mac had ever seen. Eyes that, at that very moment, didn’t look very impressed.
“Geez, the Fast Lane! It’s what we call the stampede of interns who are always rushing around trying to get Mr. Capital to notice us! What, is this your first day?” The mare’s head whipped back to the frenzy of activity behind her. Mac could have sworn he heard an audible growl issue from the mare’s petite mouth as she saw a soft pink mare with a light teal mane (reminding Mac of the candy floss that Sugar Cube Corner used to sell every harvest festival). Candy Floss elbowed her way over to the Venture and handed over a crumpled file folder. Taking it with a smile, Venture took a moment to have a quick look around, but upon seeing Mac standing with the crimson and cream mare, just smiled and ushered the gaggle of ponies toward one of the many conference rooms on this floor.
“Ah, buck it! Patrice got to him first!” the mare snarled. She turned and yelled back into the heart of the maelstrom, “you're going down, Patrice! The seat on the negotiations panel is mine!” This only earned her a sneer from the pink pony as she sauntered off triumphantly.
“Ah, buck it,” the strange mare said, though this time under her breath as she turned back to meet his gaze. “And just who exactly are you anyway? You’re…” She glanced down at his cheap suit with a raised eyebrow, “not exactly the type I would have expected to be getting a private tour with Mr. Capital.”
“Ah uh … Name’s Macintosh. Big Mac, if you like. Ah’m just an intern like you. Ah met Venture when Ah was a colt. He was just showing me around.”
“Hmm,” The mare’s gaze turned from scornful to appraising as she looked him over once more. “Well then, Mac,” Her voice lost its hard edge. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”
Mac, having finally regained his composure, shot back a sheepish grin. “Well, Ah rekon there’s no need for apologies ma’am. You were right about this bein’ mah first day. Ah should have had mah wits about me. Ah’m right sorry you missed out on your chance with Venture.”
The mare surprised him with a genuine giggle. “Wow, you really are straight from the heartland aren't you?”
“Yes Ma’am, born and bred in Ponyville, on the edge of the Everfree Forest if ya didn’t know. Hope that’s not going to be a problem for all the city folk here.”
“Hmmm, who cares if it is? Most of these weasels could stand to learn some of those downhome manners of yours.”
“Now Ah know you wouldn’t be referring to your friend Candy Floss over there, would you?” Mac said with a playful smirk.
“Candy Floss…? Oh!” This time he earned a genuine laugh. “Ya, thats Patrice all over. ”
“Oh? Because she’s really a sweet pony when ya get to know her?” Mac asked with a raised eyebrow, thinking he misjudged their relationship.
“No,” The mare said with a smile, “because she belongs in a carnival.”
This time the laughter was shared by both of them. It came easy, as if they had known one another for years instead of minutes. After the moment passed, the mare cast him a long, contemplative look.
“Ma’am?” Mac said after a moment.
“Meterotic Rise,” She said as she turned toward the way she had come.
“If you say so Ma’am,” Mac said, playfully feigning confusion.
He was rewarded with another light laugh. “My name is Meteoric Rise. I just figured you should know my name before you take me out for drinks tonight. Wouldn’t you say?” With a flick of her tail, she sauntered off down the hallway.
“Ah rekon so,” Big Mac said softly, a giant grin pasted on his face as he watched her go.
