In the second installment of The Flash Sentry Papers, Carrot Top calls on ol' Flashy for a Very Important Mission. Things go downhill from there.
In the second installment of The Flash Sentry Papers, Carrot Top (a.k.a. Special Agent Golden Harvest) calls on noted rogue Flash Sentry for a Very Important Mission. Soon enough, Sentry is dragged into another misadventure, this one involving feuding families, young lovers, and a troop of very angry flying baboons.
The Flash Sentry Papers, as I have noted before, are terribly unorganized. Or, perhaps it's safer to say, they're not organized at all.
Not that I expected proper bibliographies and citations from a pile of journals I found at the bottom of an antique trunk (along with several empty liquor bottles and a rather comprehensive collection of vintage playcolt magazines). Still, even by these lax standards, Sentry's memoirs are nothing short of maddening. The notebooks themselves aren't numbered or dated, which is challenging enough. However, the contents of the notebooks are even more disorganized, as Sentry jumps from one anecdote to another without thought of chronology or continuity.
I have spent untold hours poring through the Flash Sentry Papers, annotating, cross-referencing, and transcribing in an effort to bring these historical documents to my small but enthusiastic audience. The work is hard, but satisfying-- especially considering the previously unheard perspective Sentry has to offer on events such as The Battle of Canterlot.
Unfortunately, there are some amongst my modest but enthusiastic audience who are less concerned about the historical events, and more interested in the various characters caught up in them. Specifically, this vocal minority is concerned about the character of a character-- Flash Sentry himself. There are a few misguided but passionate critics who decry my work as slanderous fiction. Surely, they argue, a famed and decorated hero such as Knight-Colonel Flash Sentry, recipient of both the Celestial Cross and the Twilight Sparkle Star, could not be anything like the rogue he admits to be in his memoirs. These critics would prefer to look upon Flash Sentry as a blank slate, a figure only seen in passing reference in other texts.
I find it ironic that many of those who dispute the veracity of The Flash Sentry Papers also cling to various rumors and legends that put Sentry in the role of Princess Twilight Sparkle's protector and/or paramour, depending on who you ask. It is true that Flash Sentry and Twilight Sparkle crossed paths on more than one occasion, with more than ample opportunity for private encounters if the both of them were determined enough.
And yet, despite the caddishness Sentry admits to in his memoirs, I have yet to find any conclusive mention of such a dalliance. One would think a confessed scoundrel such as Sentry would admit to (if not brag about) such a relationship, but I have yet to find any thus far in my studies. Which implies that no such relationship ever happened, or Flash Sentry simply chose to completely omit the most scandalous details.
Princess Twilight Sparkle still has not returned any of my letters of inquiry on the subject.
With this in mind, I have chosen a particularly enlightening snippet to make up the second volume of The Flash Sentry Papers. While the events are of slightly less importance than the Battle of Canterlot and the attempted Changeling invasion of Perchertania, the following passage provides valuable insight to Flash Sentry's character and personal life (not to mention a peek into how ponies lived their day to day lives over a century ago).
As always, I will provide minor historical footnotes and commentary throughout the memoir. One needn't read the first volume, The Prisoner of Zebra, to comprehend the second, but I strongly encourage the discerning reader to do so for the sake of context. The paperback edition of The Prisoner of Zebra have just hit the market, making for an worthy (and affordable) addition to the library of any academic or historian.
Gambling has always been illegal in Canterlot, meaning it has always been popular.
Trying your luck against a deck of cards or a set of dice can be fun enough, but doing it while dodging Canterlot's “finest” is another thing entirely. In the good old days of my youth, you couldn't go a block without stumbling across a roaming dice game, or a saloon with a few card tables in the basement, or even a dining club that had reversible roulette wheels hidden beneath cunningly constructed bowls of wax fruit.
The latter clubs were my favorite-- they kept all the class (and wine list) of a proper gentlecolt's club[1] while also providing the deliciously illicit thrill of breaking the law. And so, on a slow Tuesday evening, I found myself in one such crowded, smoky, and tastefully lit room, peering down at a trio of cards upon the green felt.
[1] In Sentry's time, the term “gentlecolt's club” had not yet taken on the rather risque meaning that we know it for today. Rather, these clubs (also known as “dining clubs”) played an important role in Canterlot society, giving ponies of certain standing a place to eat, do business, and even gamble, in some of the more libertine establishments.
“Hit me.”
The dealer nodded, and his horn glowed as he slipped another card from the shoe. His face remained impassive as he flipped it onto the table in front of me. “Five of hearts. Blackjack.”
I smiled, and basked in the polite applause from the other ponies crowded around the table. I pulled my exponentially growing stack of chips closer to me-- four blackjacks in a row had netted me enough to fund a good several months worth of debauchery. I rubbed at my chin, considering if I should try for five. Blackjack's a game of both luck and skill, two things I obviously had in abundance, though if my streak kept up for too long, it'd only be a matter of time before someone suspected--
“He's cheating!”
I wasn't, of course. But the random cry from some unseen pony was enough to cause a commotion. Something about arson and the theatre went through my mind before two burly ponies in suits and sunglasses materialized on either side of me.
“There appears to be a misunderstanding.” I flashed a smile to the pair, which they did not reciprocate. “Perhaps we should have a chat with the--”
“Police!”
While the accusation of cheating was entirely false, the cry of warning certainly wasn't. Within moments, Canterlot's Finest burst through the door, all badges and bobby-helmets. Panic and pandemonium broke out, as the gamblers, dealers, and floozies scattered in all directions, to little avail.
One of the security ponies dashed off to try to contain the chaos, while the other wrapped a burly leg around my shoulders to 'guide' me towards a back room. We made it about three steps before the big colt let out a strained grunt and fell to the floor. I stared down at the unconscious guard for a few moments-- and then looked up to see the orange-haired mare standing behind him: Carrot Top, a.k.a. Special Agent Golden Harvest.[2] She didn't look like much, but the mere sight of her was enough to make a thin scar along my hairline tingle in remembrance of the last time we met.
[2]There is very little documentation available on Carrot Top, a.k.a. Special Agent Golden Harvest. This is unsurprising, given her profession. Still, there is precedent for otherwise innocuous ponies with secret identities and careers in the Equestrian Intelligence Office. See also: Special Agent Sweetie Drops.
“You!” I blurted. “What in blazes are you doing here?”
“Saving your tail.” Carrot Top grabbed me by the foreleg, her grip even tighter than that of the security pony she'd just felled. “Now follow me!”
Without further ado, Carrot Top dragged me through the chaotic gambling den. An overzealous vice officer lunged at her, but Top pivoted her weight at the last moment, then kicked both her back hooves into the copper's midsection. He wheezed in surprise, and then collapsed to the floor in a heap. Carrot Top nimbly leapt over him, and I could do little but follow.
The two of us ran up a flight of stairs, through a heavy wooden door, and then out into a dark alley. Honestly, once the initial shock of meeting Carrot Top again wore off, I was back in my element. Which is to say, running away.
Carrot Top seemed to know where she was going, at least, which should have been the first sign of trouble. I didn't much care just where we were headed, so long as it was away from the trouble that had so inexplicably blossomed through no fault of my own. If I'd known what she had in store, I would've bolted then and there, and moved somewhere safer, like the yeti-infested parts of Yakyakistan.
“We're safe here.” Carrot Top said, rounding an alley corner. She pushed through the doors of an all-night donut cafe, and nodded a quick greeting to the paper-hatted colt behind the register. “The usual, Joe. Put it on my tab.”
We settled in at a corner booth, and within minutes, the colt in the paper hat put a plate of glazed donuts and two cups of coffee in front of us. Carrot Top tore open a few packets of sugar and dumped them into her coffee, while I drank mine black.
I pulled in a deep breath, slowly calming down. Compared to some of the other fracases and fiascoes I've been through, escaping a police sting on an illegal casino was barely worth mentioning. If it'd been a proper disaster, some changelings would've shown up to light the place on fire. In fact, the whole evening, coppers and all, would've just been another Tuesday, if it weren't for Carrot Top's timely but inexplicable arrival.
“I'm guessing this isn't a social call.” I said.
“I was wondering when you were going to figure that out.” Carrot Top smiled, wryly.
“Let me guess,” I said, “Equestria faces some new, secret threat, that inexplicably can only be faced by the likes of me?” I shook my head. “I know better, this time. You're going to have to find some other patsy.”
“This isn't a matter of national security. This is something more ... personal.”
“Oh hell. That's worse! You're gearing up to go on some roaring rampage of revenge, aren't you? Someone's killed the kung-fu master who made you into the terrifying weapon of a pony you are today?”
“What? No!” Carrot Top glowered at me. “You've been reading too many cheap adventure novels.”
“I've been living too many cheap adventure novels. No thanks to you. You could've at least warned me about the Zebra Changeling Ninja Assassins, back in Perchertania.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
“I promise, this is going to be nothing like Perchertania. No disguises. No assassins. Nothing like that.”
“Then what in Celestia's name do you need me for?”
“I ... “ Carrot Top's cheeks flushed, and she bit at her lower lip. “I need a date.”
“What.”
“You heard me.”
“Oh, so I get it, you need me to infiltrate some high society gala in order to sniff out some cloak and dagger skullduggery. Count me out.”
“I told you, it's not business. It's ...” For the first time that evening (if not perhaps ever), I saw her hard-nosed demeanor slip, revealing the tired, slightly lost-looking mare beneath. “I don't see my family very often, given my ... career. Too busy.”
“Understandable.”
“And, I may have ... implied in a letter that I was seeing somepony. To keep my parents off my case. And now the Top family reunion’s coming up, and my mother and father want to meet my ... special somepony.”
“So you've been reading cheap romance novels instead of cheap adventure novels. Got it.”
“I'm being serious.” Carrot Top's blush would have been cute, if it weren't for the fact I once saw her break a changeling's spine with her bare hooves.
“But why me? As we both know I'm honestly the worst possible prospect you could bring home. What, with the cadding and the drinking and all the other reasons you don't like me.”
“There ... aren't any other prospects.” Carrot Top looked into her drink.
“Balderdash. You're ... “ I looked her over for a moment, and took another sip of my drink. “Pleasant enough to look at. Not my type, personally, but it's not your fault you weren't born with wings. I'm sure you could rope in a date easily enough. Literally, if you had to.”
“Thanks. I think.” Carrot Top said, deadpan. “But, bringing in a random ... civilian would be even worse. I'd have to lie to them and my family, and there'd be too much of a chance of me being found out. And I can't bring anyone from ... work, because that could jeopardize their cover. Which leaves you, Sentry. You're the only pony I know who I trust to lie to my family.”
“You've thought all this out, haven't you?”
Carrot Top nodded.
“So you won't be surprised when I tell you 'no.'” I drained my mug, and the last of the coffee seared its way down my throat. “I appreciate your assistance earlier this evening, but given how I saved your life back in that changeling hive, I'd say we're even.”
“I figured you'd say that.” Carrot Top smiled the sort of knowing smile that made my guts twist. “I can't force you-- or, well, I could, but if I knocked you out and dragged you to my family reunion in a steamer trunk, that'd just bring up more questions. So, if you don't want to help me, you're free to go.”
“I am?” I said, suspicious.
“You are. You might want to start thinking of a story to tell the police, though. I'm sure somepony recognized the great Flash Sentry back at the casino-- I wouldn't be surprised if the vice squad made it a point to ask you some questions ... “
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“But that's nothing you can't wrap up with a good lawyer.” Carrot Top took a bite of her doughnut, gulped it down, and continued. “And you'd only be in the papers for a week, maybe two, until something else pops up to distract them. Unless ... “
“Unless?”
“Unless the local branch of the Equestrian Intelligence Office mentions that you were assisting us on a particularly sticky investigation. Very classified, you know.” Carrot Top had the gall to wink at me. Whatever embarrassment she'd had of her situation disappeared as soon as she had the chance to fall back into smug condescension.
The pieces fell into place. “Damnation-- you set me up!”
“And?” Carrot Top finished her doughnut, and dabbed the crumbs from her chin with a napkin.
“I bet you were the one who said I cheated, too.”
“You're catching on.”
“This is blackmail.”
“Your point?”
I facehooved, resigning myself to my fate. “When is this reunion, exactly?”
“Our train leaves at nine o'clock tomorrow. I'll meet you at the platform.” Carrot Top turned to go.
“But--” I held up a hoof. “This better not be some contrived excuse to spend time with me because you've secretly fallen in love with me on account of my dashing good looks and so on.”
“Trust me.” Carrot Top shook her head, ruefully. “That won't be a problem.”
The train wound its way through the countryside, wheels clacking rythmically against the rails. I stared out the window and watched the scenery roll by. In the distance, a few pegusai shoved some fluffy clouds into place, and I found myself thankful that I'd never taken up a career at the weather factories. Too much like real work.
“Again.” Carrot Top prodded me in the side, snapping me from my daydreaming haze. “How did we meet?”
I wracked my brain, dredging up the details from the heavy dossier Carrot Top had foisted on me as soon as we settled into our sleeper cabin. “At ... a gallery opening?”
“Fashion expo. The one that designer from Ponyville put on.”
“What in the world would I be doing at a fashion expo?”
“Meeting me.”
“If I wanted to go somewhere to meet a mare, I'd find someplace better than a fashion show.”
“That's not important. The important thing is that I would go to a fashion show.” Carrot Top huffed. “It's a plausible place to meet someone.”
“But not me.”
Carrot Top grit her teeth. “Do you at least remember our anniversary?”
“Hell if I know.” I shrugged. “Honestly, it'd probably be more believable if I didn't.”
“Nopony will believe we're dating if we keep arguing like this.”
“You're right. They'll think we're married.”
“You're insufferable.”
“I'm being blackmailed.”
“Stop complaining. This will be easy if you just pay attention.”
“'Easy' usually doesn't involve a file as thick as a phonebook.”
A steam whistle shrilled, and the conductor started making her rounds. “Next Stop, Ponyville!”
Carrot Top's expression soured (which is saying something). “We're running out of time. We get off on the station after this one, and you're still getting details wrong.”
“Look.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. “I know you're just trying to make this easy, but you're honestly over complicating things. This isn't one of your 'operations,' thank Celestia. All we've got to do is pretend to like each other for a little while, and then your parents get to believe you're just another normal mare and not Fancy Pants' favorite knee-breaker.”
“It's not that simple.”
“It is that simple. Take it from me, Miss Top. The best lies aren't the ones you've made up ahead of time. No, the best lies are the ones you never have to lie about in the first place, because somepony's made up their mind about you. You just toss them a few juicy details, and let the other pony figure out the rest. The rest is just smiling and nodding. How else do you think a scoundrel like me became the toast of Canterlot?”
“Dumb luck?”
“Besides that.”
“There it is. Hilltop.” Carrot Top pointed a hoof up at the sprawling country house perched atop a grassy hill. The summer air was thick and warm, but not oppressively so. A regiment's worth of earth ponies frolicked around the big house, the very picture of rural celebration. The older ones chatted in little groups, while the younger colts and fillies chased each other in circles.
“They were feeling fairly literal when they named it, weren't they?” I said.
“Don't knock it. My family's lived in this house for generations. Now c'mon.” Carrot Top put on a mostly genuine smile and led me up the hill.
“Carrot!” An older mare with poofy white mane nearly bowled my companion over. “You made it! I was getting worried!”
“Sorry Mom, the train got held up.” Carrot Top said, even as she pulled her mother in for a hug. “It's good to see you, though.”
“It's been too long!”
“I know, I know. I've just been so busy.”
“With work, yes.” Carrot Top scratched at the back of her neck and managed a guilty smile. “But, you know, those insurance rates won't collate themselves, you know?
“But not too busy, I see.” Mrs. Top looked over Carrot's shoulder and sized me up, curious. “This is your ... Friend, you told me about?”
“Flash Sentry.” I put on my dashing, toothpaste-advertisement-worthy smile. “It's a pleasure, Mrs. Top.”
“Please! Cotton Top will do just fine. You're going to make me feel old, otherwise.”
“Perish the thought. Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say that Carrot had an older sister.”
“Flatterer.” Cotton Top held a hoof to her mouth as she giggled.
“IS THAT MY BABY CARROT!?” A deep basso voice bellowed, loud enough to rattle my eardrums even from across the hill. Moments later, one of the biggest stallions I ever saw galloped through the crowd, and scooped Carrot Top up as if she weighed nothing at all. “IT IS!”
Carrot Top broke down into bubbly, girlish laughter, and gently pushed at the big pony's arms. “Daaaaad!”
“And allow me to introduce my husband, Over the Top.”
“WELL!” Over the Top boomed, and I began to wonder if the Top family was somehow distantly related to Princess Luna. “WHO'S YOUR FRIEND, BABY CARROT?”
“Dad, this is my ... Boyfriend.” It's a testament to Carrot Top's acting skill that she didn't wince as she said it. “Flash Sentry.”
“FLASH! A-HAA!” Over the Top seized my hoof between two of his, and shook it hard enough to rattle my teeth. “THE FLASH SENTRY, OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”
“The same, sir.” I said once my eyeballs stopped spinning.
“WHY, BABY CARROT, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE DATING A WAR HERO?”
“I wouldn't go that far, sir.” I said, mostly by reflex. The key to a proper heroic reputation is to deny it at every opportunity. “I'm was just doing my job.”
“BAH! I HEARD WHAT YOU DID DURING THE BATTLE OF CANTERLOT, FLASH! BEATING DOWN CHANGELINGS WITH NOTHING BUT YOUR BARE HOOVES! DAMN IT ALL, I WISH I COULD HAVE BEEN THERE! I USED TO SERVE IN THE 5th IMPERIAL SAPPERS, YOU KNOW! WHY, I HAVEN'T BEEN IN A PROPER SCRAP SINCE GALLOPOLI! I'M SURE YOU GAVE THE BUGS A GOOD DRUBBING, WHAT?”
“What?” I said, well on my way to deafness.
“GOOD LAD!” Over the Top smacked me across the shoulders. He turned to Carrot Top, beaming. “TAKE CARE OF THIS ONE, BABY CARROT! HE'S A KEEPER! WHY, WE MIGHT EVEN NEED HIS HELP LATER! THAT VALLEY TRASH IS ACTING UP AGAIN-- WE COULD USE ANOTHER SET OF HOOVES TO KEEP THEM IN LINE!”
“Valley trash?” I said.
“It's complicated.” Carrot Top said with a wince. “And unimportant.”
Before I could ask any more inconvenient questions, a plump little filly trotted over and flung her hooves around Carrot Top's neck. “Hey sis!” The girl looked like a slightly younger, slightly shorter, far less murderous version of her sister, and had some kind of pastry as her cutie mark.
“Hey Muffin.” Carrot Top pulled her sister into a friendly sibling headlock, and ruffled her orange frizz of a mane. “Been keeping out of trouble?”
“Nope!”
“That's what I like to hear.” Carrot Top laughed. “I guess you should meet—”
“Flash Sentry.” Muffin said, nodding. “I heard dad. From inside.”
“You get used to it.” Cotton Top said with a little shrug. “Now come on, dear,” she tugged lightly at Over the Top's leg. “You're going to overwhelm the poor boy.”
“ME? OVERWHELMING?”
“Oh, hush.” Cotton Top smiled. “Now come on, I'm going to need your help in the kitchen.”
“YES DEAR!” Over the Top nuzzled his wife in one of those nauseatingly sweet moments typically reserved for greeting cards, and then the two of them trotted off to the kitchen.
“Is he ... Always like that?” I asked Carrot Top, even as I rubbed at one of my aching ears.
“Not really, no.” Carrot Top shrugged. “Sometimes he's louder.”
“You could have warned me.”
“You would've known ahead of time, if you had bothered to read--” Carrot Top snapped, and then reined herself in as she realized her sister Muffin was still there. “--the letters my family sent. That you said you didn't want to read because you said they were private.”
“Ah, yes. Those.” I nodded.
Muffin glanced between the two of us, puzzled. “Oh kaaaay?”
To throw off any further suspicion, I opted for a change in subject. “Are you hungry? I'm starving.” I said, actually telling the truth for once. “You don't think your parents will be long in fixing dinner, will they?”
“We've got plenty of food!” Muffin said, suspicion forgotten at the prospect. “C'mon, follow me!” And with that, she led us on towards a long table piled high with baked goods. “I even made my special blueberry scones!”
“Good save.” Carrot Top murmured to me.
“I told you I'd be good at this.” I muttered back. “We've already gotten past the hard part-- just relax and enjoy the party.”
The next few hours went by in a blur. The Tops seemed to have a nigh endless supply of delicious pastries and distant relatives, both of which they were intent on shoving at me. There was High Top, a basketball prodigy, Black Top, a civil engineer, a bearded old codger by the name of Uncle ZeeZee, and a dozen more besides. Somewhere along the line a large barrel of cider was tapped, and soon enough I was swapping war stories and singing old barracks songs with Carrot's father. This, of course, embarrassed her to no end, which I figured made our cover story all the more convincing. Not that there was much convincing to be done-- I made pleasant small talk for the most part, neatly deflecting any inquiries that probed too deep. But even the legendary stamina of the earth pony gives out eventually, and bit by bit, the party began to die down.
“Tired?” Carrot Top materialized at my side-- I wasn't sure if it was due to her ninja like stealthiness or just my own fatigue that I didn't hear her coming.
“Very.” I stretched my wings out and rolled my neck. “Where've you been?”
“Catching up with my sister, mostly.”
“Sounds pleasant.”
“It was ... nice.” Carrot Top smiled, and then shook her head. “But now, we'd both better get some sleep. C'mon. We're staying in my old room.”
“Oh.” I said, blinking. “That's ... logical. But your family won't, er, mind?”
“I'm a grown pony.” Golden Harvest tilted her nose upwards. “Not to mention that every other couch, day bed, and guest room is already occupied. A lot of stretches of the floor, too. It's the only place the two of us can sleep. Just don't get any ideas, alright?”
“Perish the thought.”
Carrot Top guided me through the sprawling house, and past her various relatives sprawled out within it. On more than one occasion I took to the air, silently gliding over a distant uncle or cousin who had settled in someplace inconvenient. Finally, Carrot Top opened up the door, and I gasped.
Even in the scant light available in the mostly dormant old house, I could tell Carrot Top's cozy little bedroom was pink. Very pink. Conspicuously pink. Pink enough to make the frilliest of Canterlot fashions seem subtle and subdued in comparison.
Carrot Top must have seen my bewildered expression, as she shot me an annoyed glare as she pushed me into the room. “The room hasn't been redecorated ever since I was a little filly.”
“I see.” I looked over the irregular row of pictures and martial-arts trophies perched atop a dresser. “Though it's somewhat hard to believe you were ever a little filly.”
“Ha. Ha.” Carrot Top rolled her eyes, and pulled a pillow off the bed. “Go on and make yourself comfortable.”
“Right, right.” The mattress creaked slightly as I flopped down onto it. I stretched out-- only to pause a moment later as I noticed something. “Wait. What are you doing?”
“I'm going to sleep on the floor.” Carrot Top set her pillow down and began to curl up in the corner.
“Hold on now, you can't do that.” I rolled off the bed. “Look, it's your bedroom, you should get the bed.”
“You're the guest.”
“I'm half drunk. I'll barely even notice the floor. I've passed out in worse places.”
“I believe that.” Carrot Top grumbled. “But I'm telling you, I'm going to sleep on the floor. Why do you even care?”
“I ... I'm not exactly sure, but I bet I could give you a good reason if your father hadn't foisted a couple gallons of cider on me.” I blinked, bleary-eyed, and fought down the sudden urge to belch.
“I'm sorry about my dad, he's a little ... much.”
“He's actually fairly good company, so long as you're on the other side of the room.”
Carrot Top actually laughed at that one. “Get to sleep, Sentry. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” She was righter than she knew, but neither of us was aware of the fact just yet.
“Right, right.” I pulled my wings in against my sides, curled my legs in beneath myself, and tried to get as comfortable as I could on the hard floorboards. “I'll just settle in here, and you can sleep on the bed like a civilized pony.”
Carrot Top just glared stubbornly at me from across the room, and then flopped down on the floor in the opposite corner, leaving the bed untouched. At least I tried, I thought, as I let myself lapse into a well-deserved slumber. It wasn't my fault the mare was as stubborn as she was.
“So that's how it is, then?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“We're both going to sleep on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed just waiting to be used.”
“Yep.”
“Alright then. Just making this clear. But don't cry to me when you wake up with your muscles all in knots.”
“Goodnight, Sentry.”
“Goodnight, Top.”
We slept.
As the first few rays of sun streamed in through the window, I groaned. I was about to pull a pillow over my head when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. More paranoid parts of my psyche kicked into gear, and I immediately tensed, bracing myself for whatever horribleness that was about to come my way. A few seconds passed without anything trying to kill me, and I braved opening my eyes all the way.
Carrot Top stood in the center of her childhood bedroom, slowly but deliberately working her body through some kind of stretching exercise. She'd draw one hoof across her body, extend it outwards, then pivot her weight, put that hoof down, and then repeat the process with another. After a few moments of observation, I realized she was working through hoof-to-hoof combat maneuvers, albeit slowed down a hundredfold.
So abstracted (and without the intended effect of someone getting punched), her movements were elegant and artistic, like the motions of a ballet dancer. I couldn't help but watch the subtle shift of muscle beneath Carrot's coat as she moved. The sunlight glinting off her coat only added to the strange beauty of the sight; I could see why they put “Golden” in her code name.
With one last release of breath, Carrot Top set all four hooves on the floor. She opened her eyes-- and immediately looked over at me, suspicious. “What're you looking at?”
“Nothing!” I blurted, perhaps a little too loud. As I stood up, a few of my joints popped and cracked, and I found myself wishing I'd bothered with the damn bed. “Just wasn't expecting you to put on a little show, that's all.”
“It wasn't for you.” Carrot Top huffed. “It's just ... relaxing. Not to mention this is the only place in the house where I can get some privacy.”
“I see. I can go, if that helps?”
“Too late now. It's not like you haven't seen me in action before.” She put one hoof to her chin and pushed on it, causing her neck to crack slightly. At least I wasn't the only one suffering from an uncomfortable night's sleep.
“Unfortunately.” I fought down an urge to shudder.
“Are you hungry?” Carrot Top tilted her head the other way, eliciting another faint pop. “My mom makes the best--”
“Carrot!” Cotton Top barged though the door, eyes wide and teary. I fluffed my wings out in surprise, and wondered if it was a good or bad thing Cotton Top hadn't stumbled across us in a more compromising situation. It didn't matter in the end, however, as she soon flung herself at her daughter, sobbing in panic. “It's terrible!”
Which meant it was at about the same level of chaos as from the day before, only this time with more crying. Carrot Top shouldered her way through the mass of panicked ponies, and I could do little but follow in her wake. At least someone had the foresight to make coffee, so I scooped up a mug. I had the familiar feeling I would need it. That, and it was also too early for brandy.
Over the Top sat in the kitchen, blubbering. “MY BABY!” Tears streamed down into his beard. “WHERE IS MY LITTLE BABY?” He blew his nose with a sound akin to a foghorn, and then shook his head. His face went red, and he pounded a hoof upon the table. “I SWEAR, IF THAT VALLEY TRASH HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS--”
“You'll report it to the proper authorities.” Carrot Top's voice was level, but she was still able to cut through her father's typical bellowing.
Over the Top blinked, sniffed, and looked over at Carrot Top. Again, he switched from raging to maudlin at the drop of the proverbial hat. “BUT ... BUT THE SHERIFF'S HALF A DAY'S WALK FROM HERE! WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD HAPPEN TO MUFFIN IN THAT TIME? SHE'S PROBABLY ALONE AND SCARED AND-- AND--” The big stallion broke down into sobs once more.
“We don't need the sheriff.” Carrot Top said. “We've got Flash Sentry.”
I nearly choked on my coffee.
As one, the Top clan turned to stare at me with wide-eyed expressions of hope. Well, most of the Top clan, as the look in Carrot Top's eyes said “you'd better go along with this or else I will break your face in you craven little coward.”
She had very expressive eyes, you know.
“It's ... a bit outside my jurisdiction.” I said. “But I'll do what I can.”
“Don't worry, dad. Flash Sentry will find Muffin, and bring her back. I promise.”
Over the Top blew his nose again and looked at me, renewed vigor shining in his teary eyes. “THANK YOU, FLASH! I KNOW I CAN COUNT ON YOU! I'LL BE HONORED TO HAVE A STALLION LIKE YOU AS A SON IN LAW!”
“Son in law?” My voice cracked.
“Not now, dad!” Carrot Top said, and dragged me out of the room. “Just leave it to Flash-- he'll have Muffin back in no time!”
I kept my sputtering to a minimum until Carrot Top led me through Hilltop's front door, and out onto the thankfully empty lawn. I shot a wary glance back at the big house, and then a warier one to the mare who was the cause of all this trouble to begin with. “Just what in blazes have you been writing in your letters?”
“Nothing! Literally, nothing! Just small talk and little updates on how I was doing.”
“Then what was that 'Son in Law' business? For all I know, you've been signing your letters 'Carrot Sentry' just to see what it looks like on paper.”
“Believe it or not, not every mare in Canterlot is interested in you.”
“Only the ones with excellent taste.” I huffed.
Carrot Top tensed, and for a terrible moment I thought she would hit me-- but she steadied herself with a deep breath, and so I remained un-punched for a little while longer. “Nevermind what my Dad said-- he's panicking right now, because his little girl-- because my sister has disappeared. And it's your fault.”
“My fault? Don't try to pin this on me-- I barely spoke to the girl! For once, there's no possible way I could have done anything wrong.”
“It's not what you said. It's just the simple fact you're here.” Carrot Top picked up her pace, nearly breaking into a trot as she headed downhill,
“I'm only here because you forced me. Or did you forget?” I flapped my wings to keep up.
Carrot Top cringed, stopped, and turned her eyes downwards. “Damn it, you're right. I just ... “ She ran a hoof through her frizzed hair. “I should have seen this coming.”
“Seen what coming, exactly? As I still can't see the connection between my mere presence and disappearing teenagers.”
“I told you I spent most of last night talking to my sister. What I didn't tell you is what we talked about.”
“Something deeper than idle gossip, I'm guessing.”
Carrot Top nodded. “Turns out, when Muffin saw you and me 'together,' she started getting ... ideas. She told me that she'd met a boy.”
“Well, good for her.”
“The boy's a Bottom.” Carrot Top's voice took on a grim, professional tone, as if she were identifying an enemy agent.
“Aaaand that's the definition of Too Much Information. Sorry I asked.”
“What are you-- no!” Carrot Top smacked me on the shoulder. Hard. “The boy's name is Bottom-- Rock Bottom –from the Bottom clan.”
“The who?”
Carrot Top sighed and shook her head. “The Tops take their name from the fact we live at the top of the hill. And the Bottoms live, well, at the bottom of the valley. The two families have been feuding off and on for generations. That's the 'valley trash' my father was ranting about.”[1]
[1] The Top & Bottom Feud is often forgotten in comparison to (or sometimes confused with) the more famed rivalry between the Hoofields and McColts. This can be attributed to Princess Twilight Sparkle's resolution of the matter, as detailed in her numerous letters and essays on the subject. The exact origins of the Top & Bottom Feud are unknown (Sentry neglects to delve into the matter, unsurprisingly), but various sources claim the quarrel between the two families was either caused by a land dispute, or possibly by an incident involving a Hearth's Warming Eve Pageant, a cartload of potatoes, and somepony's pet pig.
“So you're telling me ... there's a whole family of Bottoms?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder they're so angry.” I tried to fight back a snicker, and failed. “Name like that, and I'd have a chip on my shoulder too.”
“Stop laughing, Sentry. We've got to find Muffin and Rock before Big Bottom--”
“Excuse me?”
Carrot Top rolled her eyes. “The head of the Bottom clan is traditionally called Big Bottom, and-- now what?”
My lip began to quiver. Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes. “Sorry.” It came out in a squeak. “It's just ... that's the funniest damned thing I've ever heard.”
“Will you shut up? This is serious.”
“Sorry. I must be making an ass of myself.”
“Sentry.”
“Oh! Right, didn't mean to make you the butt of the joke.”
“Sentry.”
“Of course. Back to business. Put all this silliness behind us, eh?” I went so far as to waggle my eyebrows.
Carrot Top facehooved. “I can't believe I'm having this conversation.”
“Consider it payback.” I smiled so hard it hurt. It was absolutely worth it.
“My sister is missing and you're making bad jokes.” Carrot Top growled.
“Sorry! Sorry! That's the end of it. I promise.”
Carrot Top punched me in the shoulder. Harder.
There should be a word for smiling and wincing at the same time. “Would you believe me if I said that last pun wasn't on purpose?”
“No.” Carrot Top said, flatly.
“Fine.” I sighed, and rubbed at my aching shoulder. “Still, you've got to admit, compared to the fiasco you threw me into back in Perchertania, this is going to be easy. Trivial, even. Just look at things objectively. You're one of the Equestrian Intelligence Office's best special agents. And I-- well-- if there's anypony who knows about absconding with ladies whose parents disapprove of you, it's me.”
Carrot Top stared at me for a long, long moment. “I hate to say it, but you're making sense.”
“Of course I am!” I said, cheery. “I'm actually quite useful in situations where nothing's trying to kill me. All we need to do is find your sister and her paramour. They can't have gone far. They don't have wings, and the train won't roll in until later in the afternoon. I bet the two of them probably just holed up in the first place they could find some privacy and--”
“Remember that's my sister you're talking about.” Carrot Top warned.
“-talk.” I added on, blithely. “They're just talking. About, uh, feelings. The way teenagers do.”
“I already know where they've gone. Back when I was a filly, I had a secret place where I'd go when I wanted to be alone. When I left for Canterlot, I told Muffin where it was. If there's anyplace she's taken a boy to ... talk, it'll be there.”
“Ah! Sounds open and shut, then. Where are we headed?”
With the sun still out, the Everfree Forest was only vaguely foreboding, as opposed to outright terrifying. Even still, the canopy was thick, and the shadows were deep. Every so often, a bird would chirp, its cheery song entirely out of place in one of the wildest, most dangerous stretches of Equestria.
“What does?” Carrot Top didn't bother looking back at me as she pressed through the forest.
“You spending so much time here as a little filly.” I cringed a little as something insectoid and likely venomous scrabbled across the path ahead of me. “No doubt wrestling owlbears and manticores and the like. It's no wonder you turned out like you did.”
“Like I did?” Carrot Top stopped in her tracks, and looked over her shoulder at me with a familiar annoyed expression. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, you know. Headstrong. Independent.” I gestured aimlessly with one hoof, even as I stepped back out of easy kicking distance. “Terrifying?”
“The Everfree Forest isn't as bad as ponies say.” Carrot Top neatly stepped over a gnarled root, and then started making her way down a steep incline. “... and neither am I.”
“I've seen what you can do.”
“What I do isn't what I am.” Carrot Top said. She sounded decisive, until she added on: “Isn't it?”
“Beg pardon?”
“I ... I just keep my work and my personal life separate, that's all.”
“Very separate.” I said, deadpan. “Or else I wouldn't be here to begin with.”
“You know what the worst part is?” Carrot Top gave a brief, mirthless laugh. “Most ponies either know me as Carrot Top, or Special Agent Golden Harvest. Either just another pony in the background ... or one of the lucky few who stands between Equestria and total disaster.”
“And?”
“And you're one of the few ponies I can name who's seen me as both.” She shook her head, and then picked up her pace, passing through a copse of white-barked trees. “I don't know why I'm even telling you this.”
“To be fair, neither do I.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Not often, no. I think it's a coping mechanism to distract myself from the fact that I'm being led deeper and deeper into a monster-infested wilderness.”
Carrot Top pressed on. “The reason ponies are afraid of this forest is because it's ... wild. We've been conditioned our entire lives to accept ... to expect control. Earth pony farms feed us. Cloudsdale's weather factories produce the rain for the farms. Princess Celestia controls the sun.” Carrot Top sighed, and looked out into the untrammeled wilderness that stretched out before us. “And that's just what ponies know about. Princess Twilight Sparkle finds a new eldritch horror to blow up every six months or so. And then that's easy compared to what ponies like me have to do ... “ Carrot Top shook her head. “So a place like this, where things just ... happen? That's unique.”
“I think I see your point, but the things that just 'happen' usually involve ponies being eaten by large and irate apex predators.”
“It's not the big monsters you've got to worry about. For something as big as a hydra or a dragon, a single pony wouldn't be satisfying at all, so they don't bother. It'd be like eating a single potato chip. One bite, and it's gone, and you're still hungry.”
I shuddered, suddenly envisioning myself at the bottom of a foil-lined bag. “That's ... not exactly reassuring, you know.”
“It should be. Most things in the Everfree Forest that'll try to eat you will be pony sized, or even smaller. Which means you can fight them if you know what you're doing. And I know what I'm doing.”
“Not all of us are masters of hoof to hoof combat, you know.”
“And not all of us are as good at running away as you are.” Carrot Top rolled her eyes, and started working her way down a steep incline, down into a creek. She tromped through the mud at the bottom, uncaring of the brownish splatters that soon covered her hooves and legs. Not wanting to get bogged down myself, I took to the air, following along at an easy glide. Carrot Top turned back to say something else to me-- only to have her eyes widen in sudden shock.
“What are you doing!?”
“Keeping clean, that's all. No sense in-- AH!” My excuses were cut short as Carrot Top siezed me by the front legs and dragged me down to the ground. We tumbled over each other, thoroughly coating ourselves in the warm, sticky mud. I spit and sputtered, flapping my wings in indignation, but Carrot Top kept me pinned. Bowled over as we were, I found myself nose to nose with the filly, staring into a pair of eyes that were even greener than the forest canopy above.
“Er.” I blurted, for lack of anything better.
Carrot Top shook her head and leaned back, prodding me in the center of the chest. “It's a bad idea to fly this deep in the forest. It gets ... their attention.” Her eyes flicked upward, searching and paranoid.
“Whose attention?”
“You really, really don't want to know. Just don't fly, and you'll be alright.”
“Ah. Right.” I laid there in the mud for a few moments longer, and then braved a few more words. “Are we just going to lay here like this or ... “
Carrot Top's eyes went wide in shock, only to narrow in a now-familiar expression of annoyance. Still, she rolled off of me, and shook herself like a dog, sending a couple quarts worth of mud flying in all directions.
“We're wasting time. We've got to find--”
A shrill scream echoed from deeper in the forest.
“Muffin!” Carrot Top said, and took off at a gallop.
I scrambled to my feet and followed. Charging towards the source of the screaming made my guts twist uneasily, but I knew the alternative of just standing around alone in the Everfree Forest was even worse. Every couple of steps I stumbled over some rock or root-- in contrast, Carrot Top cleared every obstacle with an acrobat's grace. It got to the point where I was so focused on keeping my eyes on the trail that I didn't notice when Carrot Top skidded to a full stop. I careened into her flank, at which point she did some sort of kung-fu pirouette, using my momentum against me to fling me onto the ground. The impact forced the air from my lungs, and Carrot Top had a hoof to my lips before I could so much as give a girlish whimper.
“Quiet.” She hissed.
I nodded, for lack of anything better to do. Carrot Top let me stand up again, and then crouched low, pulling me down to do the same. She pointed silently from our hiding place-- where, sure enough, there was her sister Muffin, along with a burly, white-maned colt: Rock Bottom, to judge by his boulder cutie mark.
The young couple huddled together in the center of a forest clearing. Which would have been fine ... if it weren't for the things lurking in the trees surrounding them. They looked like lumps of matted, greyish-black fur, hunched in the shadow of the canopy. Every so often the glint of beady eyes or yellowed teeth flashed through the forest darkness. The horrid creatures chittered and gibbered amongst themselves, as if discussing the best way to eat the two ponies they had trapped.
“What are those?” I whispered, shocked.
“The reason I told you not to fly.” Carrot Top didn't take her eyes off her sister.
“Further detail might be helpful.”
“Those--” Carrot Top said, frowning, “are winged baboons.[1] Pack predators. They like to ... play with their food.” As if to prove her point, one of the horrid creatures reared back and threw a stick. Rock Bottom took the hit on his shoulder, and winced.
[1] Winged baboons (not to be confused with Harpies), are one of the more unique species to be found within the Everfree Forest. Fierce and territorial, they are known for recklessly attacking any flying creature that intrudes upon their airspace. Like bugbears, manticores, and cockatrices, they are a combination of taxanomically disparate species. This amalgamation of mammalian and birdlike features remains a puzzle to many biologists. The prevailing theory is that these strange combination-creatures are in fact remnants from one of the chaos-god Discord's early rampages. Certain radical scientists do note, however, the similarity between pegasus wings and the anatomy of other avian mammals such as the winged baboon, but such theorizing is well outside my area of expertise. I'm a historian, not an evolutionary biologist.
“The good news is, they're not in a feeding frenzy yet. I'll hit them hard, and distract them long enough for you to lead those two out the way you came.”
“That's a terrible plan.” I said. “Unless you've forgotten that you're the one who spent her childhood in this death trap, not me? How am I supposed to lead those two out of here?”
“Muffin will know the way out.”
“Uh-huh.” I said, skeptical.
“Look, it's the only plan we've got. It's not like you can fight those things.”
“I don't have to.” I said, even as an inexplicably mad plan began to form in my head. “I just have to distract them. You said those things hate other things that fly, right?” I stretched my wings out, preparing for the mayhem to come. “I'll just break through the canopy and make for open sky-- I'm no wonderbolt, but I'm sure I can lose these things if I can make it to cloud cover.”
“That's a terrible plan.” Carrot Top said.
“So we're even.” I pulled in a deep breath, and stared at the two cowering ponies in the clearing, even as my heartbeat started pounding faster and faster in fearful anticipation. “But hey, if there's anything a coward like me is good at, it's running away, right?” My voice cracked, if just a little.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“I-- You-- Dammit-- Fine.” Carrot Top went through a whole debate in the span of a breath. And then, without so much as a word of warning, she seized me around the neck. I braced myself for the inevitable twirling of the world that came right after one of Carrot Top's martial arts maneuvers. Which made the sudden feel of soft, hungry lips on mine all the more shocking.
“What was that?” I gasped for breath, feeling myself suddenly blushing like a schoolboy. (Then again, that might've just been the impending mortal terror getting my pulse racing).
“I honestly have no idea.” Carrot Top sounded just as bewildered as I. “Now get moving, before I change my mind.”
“Uh, right.” I said, for lack of anything better to say, and took to the air.
I hardly made three wingstrokes before the baboons started howling and screeching, enraged to see something else flying in their territory. They leaped out of the trees and took to the air-- their mangy black wings just as matted and filthy as their fur. What was more concerning, however, was the bared teeth and fangs as they bore down on me like a swarm of airborne piranhas.
Below me, Carrot Top dashed across the clearing, and started barking orders at Muffin and her paramour. The two stared at her, stupefied, but after a few more sailor-worthy invectives from Carrot Top, they took off running into the (relative) safety of the underbrush. Which left me on my own with a flock of murderous flying simians to contend with.
So I fled. I've always been good at that.
I burst through the canopy and into the sky above the everfree forest. The midday sun and clear skies nearly blinded me after trapsing through the shadows of the Everfree forest. I flew as fast as I could, but the baboons still snapped at my heels. I gritted my teeth against the pain, and fixed my eyes on a puffy white cloud some distance above me. Surely, I could take refuge in the thick cloud-- or, barring that, maybe even compress it into a thunderhead I could throw at them. Provided, of course, they didn't tear me to bits, first.
I felt steely little fingers wrap around my ankle, and then the sting of sharp teeth sinking into my flesh. I squealed in both surprise and terror, and kicked wildly. The winged baboon wrapped around my leg tumbled back into the foliage below, and three more howling monstrosities rose to take its place. They overtook me in seconds, swarming around me in a storm of scratching claws and clacking fangs. I fought and flailed, keeping the baboons at a distance-- which just meant they made shallow little cuts in my hide, as opposed to ripping my throat out. We tumbled over each other, sending blood and feathers flying in all directions. One of the ugliest of the brutes popped up in front of me, closing its jaws mere inches from the end of my nose. I hit it with both front hooves, and bolted for open sky.
Somehow, eventually, the flying baboons broke off their pursuit. I don't know if I outpaced them, or if my panicked flailing was enough to drive them off, or if they just didn't like the taste of me. Even still, I was free.
I laughed the giddy laugh of the nearly eaten, and settled into a shaky glide. Through some little miracle of navigation, I pointed myself in the direction of the edge of the forest. Sure enough, I saw three familiar earth ponies dashing out of the treeline, and up along the road beyond. The cold wind made my dozens of cuts and small wounds sting, and I could steadily feel my adrenaline wearing off, and the pain setting in. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I pressed on, angling myself down towards the group. Wounded and exhausted, I did all that I could to keep myself from dropping out of the air like a rock. The ground raced up towards me, and Carrot Top yelled something alarmed (and likely obscene) when she realized I couldn't slow my descent.
After all these years, and all these adventures, I've realized there is a pattern to them. There's the innocuous, inauspicious beginning, where I can usually point to one particular thing that I could've done to avoid the whole fiasco. There's the middle part, which is full of flailing and screaming and mortal terror. And finally, more often than not, things would wrap themselves up as I lay convalescent and unable to escape.
Which is why waking up to a world of pain was hardly a surprise. The familiar sting of antiseptics throbbed from each and every one of my recently acquired wounds, and I was pretty sure I'd lost several key feathers from my left wing. By the look of the ceiling, I was back in the Top farmhouse, where I'd been wrapped in a couple yards of gauze and dumped into a spare bedroom. I groaned, rolled over, and found myself staring at Over the Top's bearded face.
“SENTRY'S ALIVE!” He bellowed, and smacked me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wish I wasn't. “HA HA! I KNEW YOU WERE MADE OF STERNER STUFF, MY BOY! WHAT'S A FEW FLYING BABOONS TO THE LIKES OF FLASH SENTRY, WHAT? HAVE A WHISKEY, FRIEND!”
At that, Over the Top foisted a tumbler of amber liquid on me. I mumbled my thanks, and downed the stuff in one gulp-- only to break into coughing an instant later. As the liquor burned away my esophageal lining, I briefly wondered if it was the same stuff they'd used to dress my wounds.
“GOOD MAN! NOTHING LIKE A BIT OF THE OL' ROTGUT TO REMIND YOU YOU'RE STILL LIVING, WHAT?”
“What?” I gasped, stunned by both the liquor and Over the Top's enthusiasm.
He poured me another drink.
Wiser, I stared at the whiskey, trying to think of an excuse not to drink it-- which is when Carrot Top walked in and coughed, politely.
“That's enough, dad. Sen-- Flash has been through a lot.”
“THAT HE HAS! AND I CAN'T THANK HIM ENOUGH FOR IT! TO THINK, HE SAVED BOTH MY LITTLE GIRLS ... “ Over the Top trailed off, tears welling up in his eyes. “I CAN'T THANK YOU ENOUGH, LAD!”
“I, er, I was just doing what anypony else would have.” I instinctively lapsed into the 'heroic' humility that made me the toast of the town after the Battle of Canterlot.
“THAT'S A DAMNED LIE AND YOU KNOW IT!” Over the Top sniffed again, and wiped at his eyes. “THERE ARE FEW PONIES AS BRAVE AS YOU ARE, MY BOY! DON'T LET ANYPONY TELL YOU OTHERWISE! YOU'RE ONE IN A MILLION, LAD!”
“He won't, Dad.” Carrot Top put a hoof on her father's shoulder. “But for now, do you think I could talk to Flash alone?”
“OF COURSE!” Over the Top wiped away the last of his tears, and went so far as to give Carrot Top a conspiratorial wink. “FAR BE IT FROM ME TO GET IN THE WAY OF YOUNG LOVE, WHAT?” And before either I or Carrot Top could make the appropriate protestations, Over the Top turned on a hoof and trotted out of the room.
I stared after him for a moment, and then looked back at Carrot Top. “So ... “
“Yeah.” Carrot Top slumped into a chair beside the bed, and neatly plucked the whiskey from my hooves. She downed the whole thing without so much as flinching, and then let out a deep sigh. “This was all a mistake.”
“I could've told you that from the beginning.”
“Apologizing is hard enough without your commentary, Sentry.”
“Every time we meet, I get new scars.”
“What're you complaining about? I thought mares liked scars.”
“Do you?” My mouth has always been faster than my brain. No sooner had I said the words, they hung heavy in the air.
Carrot Top's cheeks flushed. “Look, if it's about what happened in the Everfree Forest ... that was just a--”
“-spur of the moment thing.” I added on, helpfully. “Nothing but--”
“-nerves.” Carrot Top nodded, resolute. “Sometimes ponies just do stupid things when they're in danger.”
“And if there's anyone who knows about being stupid in the face of mortal danger, it's me, right?” I forced a little laugh, and Carrot Top did the same.
She poured herself another drink.
“The funny thing is ... you're not as bad as I thought, Sentry.”
“No?”
“It's ... strange. The whole of Canterlot thinks you're a hero. But anypony who spends enough time with you can see just how much of a cad you really are ... but then, sometimes, sometimes-- you go and inexplicably do the right thing, no matter how dangerous it is.” She shook her head, and sipped at her whiskey. “I don't get it.”
“If it's any consolation, neither do I.” I winced a little as I lay back on the pile of pillows. “But I guess that just makes us even. I'm the only one who's met both Carrot Top and Special Agent Golden Harvest. So I guess you get to meet Flash Sentry, Hero of Equestria, side by side with Flash Sentry the stupid fool.”
“Heroes usually are pretty stupid.” Carrot Top mused with a wry (and dare I say lovely) little grin. “Maybe it's the same thing?”
“Hey!” I sputtered.
“Calm down, Sentry. But just as a head's up, you're probably going to come out of this even more popular than before.” Carrot Top rolled her eyes. “Rock Bottom carried you all the way to Hilltop. And once my parents found out about everything you did, and everything he did ... well, the Tops and Bottoms aren't feuding anymore. Theoretically. Muffin might even write Princess Celestia a letter about it. Apparently that's the new thing?”
“Don't look at me. All I did in the palace was stand around and look official.”
Carrot Top shrugged. “Letter or no, everypony's so distracted by Muffin and Rock Bottom that they're not paying attention to ... us. Or at least not as much attention. So we just need to bide our time until we can catch the next train to Canterlot, and in a few months I'll tell my parents we had an amicable breakup. Maybe you just got posted to someplace far away, and a long distance relationship just wasn't working.”
“You'd better not get me assigned to Yakyakistan or something to support your cover story.”
“Say ... “ Carrot Top rubbed her chin with a bemused laugh. “That's not a bad idea. You're thinking like a Special Agent.”
“Only because I've been hanging around you too long.”
My wounds, though numerous, were mostly shallow and superficial. I was back on my hooves before long, just in time to receive a hero's welcome from both the Tops and the Bottoms. I played up my injured condition, affecting a limp. I didn't do this for sympathy, but rather so I wouldn't get pulled into uproarious earth pony dancing (something about a square?). I even did the responsible thing and rationed my booze, so that by the next morning I must have been the only pony in the house (or at least the only of-age pony in the house) without a hangover.
Carrot Top made her goodbyes at the train station-- her father blubbered and bellowed the whole time, loud enough we could barely hear the engine pulling up to the platform. We loaded up our luggage, and Carrot Top even hung out the window of our cabin to wave goodbye to her family.
The train chugged on, heading steadily towards Canterlot. Carrot Top spent most of the trip with her nose buried in a newspaper, while I alternated between watching the scenery go by outside and making eyes at the stewardesses that came by periodically with coffee and snacks. Though to be honest, Carrot Top was better looking than most of said stewardesses-- the poor things must have been a little frazzled and fatigued after a long trip.
Still, the train trip was blissfully uneventful. We pulled into Canterlot Station, and Carrot Top took in a deep breath. “This is it, Sentry. You're free to go.”
“Ah, right.” I fidgeted. “To be honest, this was kind of a pleasant trip. Except for the part where I almost died, but I really should start expecting that sort of thing whenever I'm in your company.”
“Well, lucky for you, I'm sure Fancy Pants will have a new assignment for me once I get back to Canterlot. You might not see me for a long, long time.”
“Ah.” I made myself smile at the prospect, and stretched out a wing and eyed the gaps in the plumage. “At least that'll give me time to grow my feathers back.”
“Last stop, Canterlot!” the conductor called out from the other side of the cabin door.
“So I guess this is goodbye, then.” Carrot Top said, slowly.
“I wouldn't go that far. I mean, we're not even off the train yet.” I fussed with the overhead compartment and started pulling out our luggage. “And ... hell, I don't know about you, but travel makes me thirsty. I don't suppose you've got enough time for a drink before you've got to go save Equestria again? I know a nice little place just around the corner.”
Carrot Top smiled. “Oh, why not?”
We shouldered our saddlebags and disembarked. The familiar bustle of Canterlot crowds swept the both of us into its comforting embrace, and we trotted down the platform--
--at which point we ran into Fancy Pants.
“Flash Sentry! Golden Harvest! What a pleasant surprise!” The monocled unicorn winked conspiratorially, signaling this was hardly a surprise at all. “Just the ponies I've been looking for.” He spoke between blasts of the steam whistle, using the mechanical din of the train station to protect our conversation from any eavesdroppers.
“What is it?” Carrot Top's smile faded, and she lapsed back into her cold, intimidating 'business' voice.
“Oh, just a little spot of bother up in the Crystal Empire. Cultists, I'm told. The sort of thing that may require a ... personal touch, you understand. But don't worry, I won't be sending you alone! You and Sentry here did quite a number on that illegal casino, so I've made arrangements for you two to work together on this Crystal Empire project. Should be small beer, honestly-- but, well, it's all in the line of duty. What do you think, hm?”
“I think--” my mouth suddenly went very, very dry. “I need a drink.”
So ends the second volume of the Flash Sentry Papers. -G.M.F.
