Cutie Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay! 02

“Porters, come here!” the Great and Powerful Trixie said in an imperious voice that easily cut through the noise of the bustling train station.

Scootaloo and Applebloom looked at each other. “Who, us?”

“Yes of course,” Trixie said. “Trixie has a great deal of luggage and cannot be expected to deal with such herself.”

“But we’re not-“

Applebloom gave Scootaloo a quick nudge. “Of course, Miss Great an’ Powerful Trixie! Right away, ma’am!”

Leaving the still shell-shocked Sweetie Belle behind Applebloom dashed ahead, gesturing with her shoulder for her companion. Shrugging, Scootaloo complied. Applebloom continued to speak.

“An which luggage is yours?”

“The blue set with my cutie mark emblazoned on top,” Trixie said, unconsciously beaming a bit at being recognized so soon after arriving.

Applebloom eyed the five heavy suitcases deposited near the luggage car of the train. “…Of course. Anything you say.”

As the two fillies began wrestling the luggage onto their backs Scootaloo asked with a gasp, “Why are we doing this?”

“Because we need money and we’ll probably get a tip if we make her happy,” Applebloom said, grunting as she finessed the heaviest of the luggage onto her earth pony frame.

“Oh,” Scootaloo said. “Good thinking.”

“Just follow me lead,” Applebloom said as she took the handle of the last suitcase in her mouth. With that, she began dragging the small mountain of luggage towards Trixie.

“It’s about time,” Trixie said irritably. “Now come! Trixie’s carriage awaits!”

Gasping with exertion the entire time the two ersatz porters followed Trixie to the pickup zone, Sweetie Belle trailing behind them. When they got there she stopped at the curb, scanned the street impatiently and then turned back to Applebloom.

“Well done porters,” Trixie said, levitating out a bit for each of them. “You have Trixie’s appreciation.”

“That’s all?” Applebloom said, a slight quaver in her voice. Her eyes began to go wide in a heartbreakingly pleading look.

“Yes of course,” Trixie said dismissively. “And don’t think that you can guilt Trixie into a bit more.”

Applebloom recoiled a bit at the stinging rebuke. Scootaloo jumped in.

“We’re sorry, Miss Great and Powerful Trixie. It’s just that she’s a big fan of your show and she knows she won’t be able to spend that bit because she’ll want to keep it forever as a souvenir.”

Trixie looked startled for a moment before her ego swelled back up to its usual hugeness.

“Well then, she should have just said so!” Trixie replied, levitating a pair of small bags that clinked with something metallic within. “Trixie’s heart is always warmed by hearing from her admirers. In fact, hold on for a moment.”

Trixie’s horn began to glow and the smallest of the suitcases popped open. Something small and white and blue came flying out of it. It unfurled in Trixie’s deft magical grip to reveal a T-shirt emblazoned with Trixie’s smirking face and the words “Great and Powerful Trixie” underneath it. She held it in front of Applebloom, who hesitantly took it in her mouth.  Trixie smiled.

“There now little one. And if you happen to come by the Barnhorse Circus sometime this week you will find Trixie performing feats of magic such as have never before been witnessed by pony eyes!”

Trixie’s voice began to rise in volume and enthusiasm until she finally she stood on her hind legs and threw her front hooves up in a dramatic gesture. She stood there smiling with her eyes closed. She seemed to be waiting for something. After a moment Scootaloo realized she was expecting fireworks to go off.

After several seconds Trixie opened one eye and seemed to realize that she was not on stage. Not abashed in the slightest, she lowered herself back down.

“If you want to come backstage, the password is “Sparkle,” Trixie added.

As Trixie was speaking Applebloom began to weave back and forth, just a bit at first but more and more as Trixie’s monologue progressed. Finally she fell sideways and crashed squarely into Scootaloo, sending luggage, limbs and fillies sprawling in a heap. The largest of the suitcases popped open, sending a truly prodigious array of fireworks sprawling all over the place.

Trixie’s eyes widened in horror. “Imbecilic mules!” she cried. “What have you done to Trixie’s things?!”

Trixie’s horn glowed blue again and the helter-skelter fallen fireworks began to dart back towards the luggage. A carriage pulled up behind her just as she reclosed the suitcase.

“Is everything alright?” a calm voice asked from the carriage’s small window.

“Alright? Yes, yes of course, everything is fine!” Trixie stammered, shooting a poisonous glare at the young fillies. Scootaloo and Applebloom shrank back from the look. Trixie began piling her luggage into the back of the carriage with her magic. “Nothing wrong here!”

With that, Trixie turned and climbed into the carriage, nearly tripping over her own hooves as she did. Scootaloo noticed that she seemed to be trembling slightly.

A few seconds later the carriage pulled away. As it did, Sweetie Belle finally spoke up.

“Wait! You forgot…oh pony feathers.”

Scootaloo and Applebloom turned towards Sweetie Belle. She had what seemed to be a large, red firecracker in front of her. As they looked askance at her Sweetie Belle pulled her ears back and said, “She missed one.”

“Oh well,” Scootaloo said sarcastically. “Maybe we’ll go by that circus and bring it back!”

“We will?” Applebloom asked, face twisted in distaste.

“Of course we won’t,” Scootaloo said. “Now let’s go find that pony Diamond Tiara told us about.

---


“Halter! I want those pictures on my desk in time for the evening edition!”

The graying earth pony flared his nostrils as he shouted across the newsroom. The motion displayed his short, closely trimmed mustache. Most ponies had stopped wearing that style of mustache after Chancellor Rudolf of the earth ponies had launched his genocidal war of conquest against the other tribes during the pre-Harmony days.  M.  Moaner Maneson, editor –in-chief of the Bugle Horn, was not one of those ponies. Nothing as minor as a legendary mass murdering tyrant was going to stop him from grooming himself his way, damn it, and the perpetual scowl on his face dared anypony to disagree.

As the photographer scrambled to obey Maneson adjusted the cigar in his mouth and began to stalk towards his office, only to be tripped by something underfoot. Barely keeping his footing, he glared downwards the moment he regained his balance, only to find three young fillies looking back at him with pleading expressions. He took an involuntary step back, repelled by the sheer weaponized cuteness, before regaining his customary glower.

“And what do you want?”

The three fillies looked at each other nervously, then back at Maneson. Scootaloo was the first to react. Reaching into her saddlebags she pulled out a letter and passed it to the imposing earth pony. Scowling, Maneson tore open the envelope and began reading it. After about half a minute he returned his attention to the fillies, his scowl deepening.

“I don’t need any interns,” he said flatly, then turned and started walking back towards his office.

“What?!” Scootaloo said.

“But yah have to!” Applebloom chimed in at the same time. Maneson paused and turned back, taking a few steps forward to lean his face inches away from Applebloom’s.

“Have to?! I run this paper and I say I don’t need any kids running around underfoot!”

“But-“ Applebloom stammered. Maneson continued.

“But nothing! I don’t care whose daughter you’re friends with; I make the hiring decisions here and the last thing I need is some hayseed in my press room!”

“Can’t you just give us a chance?” Scootaloo begged. “We’ll do anything!”

“Not interested!” Maneson growled in reply. “Now get out.”

“But-“

“NOW!”

Applebloom and Scootaloo backed away hurriedly. Maneson started to turn away again and was muttering to himself, “Damned Filthy Rich thinks he can buy out my stock and start barking out orders? Not while I’m editor-in-chief! He wants to fire me, he can find someone else to put up with him and make this place run right!” when Sweetie Belle spoke up for the first time since they’d arrived at the newsroom.

“What if we can bring you a story?”

Maneson paused at the calm, business-like tone. He looked at Sweetie Belle. “What?”

“I said, what if we can bring you a story? A good one. Front page material.”

Maneson sneered. “What’re you going to do? Report on your school fair?”

“Gossip column. We’ll bring you dirt on a celebrity. I’ll write it up, you print it. If it’s good, you give us jobs.”

Maneson was starting to feel a bit unnerved by the filly’s brusque tone. “And what makes you think you can do that?”

Sweetie Belle turned a bit to display the cutie mark on her flank. She looked back at Maneson, one eyebrow raised. He coughed slightly.

“Alright,” he said finally. “It’s a deal. You bring me something good, and I mean front page good, and I’ll find something for you to do.”

“Good doing business with you,” Sweetie Belle said calmly.

With that, Maneson turned and headed back towards his office faster than was strictly necessary. Scootaloo and Applebloom looked at Sweetie Belle.

“That was amazing!” Applebloom said.

“Yeah, you showed him,” Scootaloo agreed. “But how are we gonna-“

“Outside,” Sweetie Belle said in the same toneless voice as before.

Once they were back out in the street Sweetie Belle turned towards an alley between the Bugle Horn and a neighboring building. Without a word she walked into it. Her friends shared a look, shrugged and then followed her.  Once they were about fifteen feet into the alley Sweetie Belle turned and pulled the firecracker from before out of her saddlebags.

“Applebloom, do you still have those matches you took from the farm?”

“Yeah, but why-“

“Just give them to me.”

Confused, Applebloom complied. Sweetie Belle took the matchbox, drew a match out and struck a light, which she held against the end of the firecracker’s fuse. Applebloom and Scootaloo’s eyes widened.

“Are you crazy?! Don’t point that at us!”

The two fillies dived for cover. A second later the fuse crackled to a halt. Nothing happened. They looked up from their prone positions and back at Sweetie Belle.

“Just as I thought,” Sweetie Belle said. “This isn’t a real firecracker.”

Sweetie Belle lifted her hoof and brought it down sharply on the firecracker. The casing broke open with an audible snap and what looked like some sort of herbs came spilling out. Applebloom stepped closer and took a sniff.

“Hey, I recognize this stuff! Zecora called it ‘hashish.’ But ain’t that-“

“Yes,” Sweetie Belle said. “It is illegal.”

“Then why did Trixie have it?” Scootaloo said.

“Because she was carrying it for somepony,” came Sweetie Belle’s too calm reply. “And I’ll bet anything she had more in her luggage.”

The three fillies looked at one another, comprehension dawning on Scootaloo and Applebloom’s faces. Paydirt.

---

“Is that everything?” Three Rings asked as they finished unpacking the last of Trixie’s luggage.

“Yes sir,” Trixie said in an unusually respectful tone. There was nopony else in Equestria that Trixie used that honorific for. As far as Trixie was concerned, the circus master who had taken her in as a filly and taught her to perform on stage was the only pony in Equestria who deserved it.

Three Rings heaved a sigh of relief mixed with sadness.  “I hate asking you to do this, Lula,” he said quietly. “I was the one who got the circus into debt with those people. There’s no reason why you should have to get involved too.”

“Psshaw,” Trixie said, some of her usual bravado leaking back into her voice. “Trixie would never turn her back on an old friend and teacher when they were in need. Trixie was in no danger; the ruse was perfect. Nopony suspected a thing.”

The older unicorn chuckled. “Very well then. Now we just have to wait for them to send their courier-“

Suddenly an earth pony dressed in a clown’s makeup and wearing large oversized boots came rushing into the circus master’s office. Trixie and Three Rings both jumped at the intrusion, clearly on edge, but it was only Tumbler, one of the circus’s other performers. Three Rings looked at him sharply.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” he growled. “This had better be good.”

Without a word Tumbler dropped a newspaper on Three Rings’ desk. The unicorn levitated it over for inspection and read the headline.

“Minor Magician Mare Marticulates Into Major Drug Market Mule,” he read aloud, his already white face turning ashen. Trixie sputtered for a moment, “Minor?! Why Trixie should-,“  before realizing the full implications of what she had just heard. She looked at Three Rings, eyes wide.

“I have-,” she began.

“Get out of here, yes,” Three Rings agreed.  “The police will be here soon, and if we’re lucky they’ll arrive first.”

“What about you?” Trixie demanded. “You know they’ll be coming after you for this. Sir, I’m…I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright Lula,” he said, using his old nickname for her in an attempt to calm her down. “I can talk my way out of this. If you’re gone there won’t be any…evidence.”

Three Rings’ voice trailed off as he looked at the pile of very illegal drugs stacked in plain sight on the floor of his office. His jaw worked for a moment, then he resumed speaking.

“Alright, I see your point. So we both need to get out of here. With us gone there won’t be anything to tie it to any of the others. Tumbler,” he said, turning to the clownish acrobat. “In the third draw on the left of my desk there’s a letter. It explains what to do in just this sort of situation. Give it to the manticore tamer. She’ll know what to do.”

“But-“

“There’s no time! Just do it!”

With that, Three Rings led the way out of the office.

Much to Trixie’s dismay uniformed police ponies were already  coming in from all of the big tent’s entrances. She froze in place, but Three Rings turned back and shouted, “Move!” in a tone of absolute authority and confidence. She followed him as he galloped to the oversized cannon the acrobats used in some of their acts. Trixie stared.

“You have to be bucking kidding.”

“Get in Trixie,” Three Rings said quietly. I’ll be right after you.”

Shaking with adrenaline, Trixie climbed into the barrel of the stunt cannon, even as some of the coppers began to point in her direction and shout. Three Rings rushed to the back of the cannon and bowed his head in concentration, adjusting the elevation of the cannon and conjuring up a tongue of flame that set the fuse of the massive thing sizzling. With speed and dexterity that seemed out of place for a pony of his years he dashed back to the front and hurled himself into the barrel, landing in a sprawling jumble with Trixie. He closed his eyes.

A moment later, the cannon went off.

With a loud whump the two unicorns were sent flying out at high speed. Trixie screamed as the upper wall of the tent rushed up to meet them, but another hurried spell from Three Rings slashed a hole in the canvass just large enough to let them through. Once they’d flown through it and clear of the big tent his horn began to glow again and a sphere of blue light surrounded him and Trixie, lowering them both to the ground at a survivable if not gentle velocity.

Both ponies let out a loud oomph as they hit the ground. Trixie went tumbling for about half a dozen feet before managing to stop herself. When she rose to her hooves she saw her mentor staring at the tent they had just left behind. A single tear ran down his cheek.

Trixie touched him on the shoulder softly. “Sir, we have to go,” she said quietly.

He nodded and turned, leaving the circus he had spent his life building behind.

“How could this possibly get any worse?” Trixie thought to herself.

Suddenly a crossbow bolt appeared in Three Rings’ left breast, buried all the way up to the fletching. Trixie followed the bolt’s trajectory to see a pegasus taking flight from a nearby building. She turned back in horror in time to see her teacher fall to the ground, blood soaking his chest. She grabbed him in her hooves as she fell, screaming, “NOOOOOO!!!” at the top of her lungs.

The police found them like that minutes later.