Ponyville - 2:45 PM

I walked down the seemingly empty streets of Ponyville with my notepad levitating in front of me, looking around often enough to make sure I didn't veer onto the wrong path. I looked at the sky for a moment, taking notice of the sun’s position, its sharp glare forcing me to squint.

I combed my notes for anything suspicious and I started to notice a pattern: the few answers I had managed to extract from ponies were shallow, avoidant, and so full of red herrings that I could’ve easily opened up a restaurant.

I chuckled darkly at the idea. I’d call it ‘Bogart’s Red Herrings: Come for the Fish, Stay for the Diversions.’

My laughter quickly faded into a scowl. I closed my notepad, glaring at its cover.

Why do I even bother with notes? I don’t have enough information to even start making an educated guess as to where I need to go…

Sighing, I levitated the notepad back into my bag.

I need to sit down and think this through, preferably with a cup of hot chocolate or coffee.

No sooner had I thought it than my nose caught the whiff of some sweet aroma: the smell of baked goods.

A smile spread across my face. I found myself trotting as I turned one last corner. At last, my eyes met the bakery known as Sugarcube Corner.

Just where Ditzy said it would be.

I calmly walked towards the bakery, and as I did, I suddenly had the feeling of being watched... I stopped in my tracks and looked around carefully. I couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary.

I slowly turned around again. “Something about this town’s odd…”

The Chosen:

Chapter Two

The bakery was charming, made to look like something out of the old human fable ‘Hansel and Gretel’. Its cookie–like walls rose from the ground for three towering stories before they came together to form a roof that seemed far too realistic to be brick-and-mortar. What looked like caulking had been spread out over the edges to resemble decorative frosting and there were also various bits of plastic candy here and there, all of it adding to the overall feeling of a gingerbread house.

I hated it.

I walked up to the door and lightly pushed on it. The door swung open without a sound. It was dark inside, without a soul in sight. The darkness was a little unsettling, but not yet threatening.

I decided to head inside with care.

The first thing I did was to get a good look around, to try and familiarize myself with the new setting. Second, I took stock of every item in the shop. That’s when I noticed that many of the bakery’s tables were bare save for red checkered tablecloths.

Odd...

I took a look at the walls, which had several banners nailed to them. They all read, ‘Welcome to Ponyville!’ and ‘Hope you like your stay!’ in bold, decorative calligraphy.

Looks like someone important came to town. Probably some government type or pop star. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was Sapphire Shores. I recalled Sapphire Shores used to live in this town before moving to Canterlot and making it big as a pop star. Pretty little filly. Made it big without a Cutie Mark too.

I half smiled. “Who needs some Cutie Mark anyway,” I whispered, looking back at my own bare flank.  

I looked around some more, eyes wandering about the shop. Suddenly, I spotted something new among the old banners. It was a worn out sign, nailed to shop’s back wall, dusty and seemingly forgotten. It read: ‘Welcome Princess Celest.’

“Princess Celest?” I whispered. “That ain’t right...” There was something next to the banner - a small, barely visible note. It read: “Wrong spelling of the Princess’ name. Change ASAP.”

Judging by the weathered looks of the cloth and the fact that the banner was undoubtedly welcoming Celestia - albeit with her name misspelled - it must have been a good decade old, maybe even older. Whoever had made the banner either hadn’t cared to check his or her spelling or had been in a too much of a rush to care.

I found myself wondering what might have happened to whoever was responsible for the sign. Part of me pictured a hapless pony standing before the Princesses, being judged for their bad spelling, followed by a swift banishment to some celestial body, like Mars or Jupiter. The other part laughed at the notion.

Tearing my gaze from the banner, I walked up to the shop’s counter and was immediately enthralled by all the different but delicious looking cakes and pastries sitting behind the glass display. Realizing I wouldn’t draw attention by just gawking, I rang the small bell that was sitting on the counter.

Almost instantly, I heard a crash from the kitchen, followed by giggling. “One second!” called somepony. It was a young and seemingly carefree pony based on the sing-song way they said it.

I took a step back, looking at the kitchen door. A pink earth pony suddenly appeared, carrying what looked like several large boxes of flour. I couldn’t see the pony’s face, but what I could see of her frame told me she was female. Her coat was pink, and she sported her magenta tail in a puffed-up fashion, bearing the same consistency as cotton candy.

The first thing that struck me about her was how she was balancing the boxes on her forehooves, walking upright in a manner reminiscent of how humans tended to walk - a very difficult feat for ordinary ponies to master. She turned around so her back was now facing me, and I caught a glimpse of her Cutie Mark: three party balloons, two blue and one yellow.

My thoughts jumped back to earlier in the day and the first pony I had bumped into. She had the same mark. Could it really be her?

“Welcome to Sugarcube Corner~!” the filly sang cheerfully. “How can I help you today?” she asked, setting the boxes on the ground and looking me straight in the eyes.

Neither one of us said anything at first; the filly seemed a little shocked I was there. I simply waited for her reaction. She gasped in shock for several seconds before pointing at me.

“You!” she said. “You’re that new stallion in town!”

“And you! You’re that filly who knocked me on the ground earlier today!” I crossed my forelegs while giving her a stern look. “Didn’t even bother with an apology! You just gasped and ran off faster than a Wonderbolt.”

“Right…” the pink filly said, rubbing the back of her head with a sheepish smile on her face next to her blushing red cheeks. “I’m really, really sorry about that Mister. It’s just that, I get so excited when a new face shows up in town!”

“Well, just try to watch where you’re going next time, okay? If this was Manehattan, you'd be-” I hesitated; she didn’t need to know about the kinds of things they’d do a filly like her in Manehattan. “Well…”

“What would I be?” she asked expectantly.

My expression soured a bit. “Nothing; nothing at all,” I said rather harshly. She suddenly looked saddened. I raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t about to cry, are you?”

“No,” she said bashfully, “it’s just that...you, well...” She sighed. “You aren’t supposed to be here at all.” She looked at all the banners, banners I quickly realized she had set up. “Your surprise party is ruined…”

“Surprise party?” I asked in shock. Well, that explains why tables are set up that way and why it’s so dark in here. Must have walked in earlier than I should have… “Why...why would you throw me a surprise party?” I asked with a great deal of surprise. The idea that someone would toss me - a total stranger - a surprise party simply eluded me.

“It’s customary,” the filly said with a growing smile. “Well, customary for me!” She suddenly giggled as she leaned over the counter. “Don’t they throw parties where you come from?”

“Not these kinds of parties.” I told her rather dryly.

For me, parties had always been boring. I don’t drink (it’s nothing more than comfort for the weak and degenerate to me), I don’t get ‘acquainted’ with hookers and whores either (not that I hate them, I just don’t approve of their lifestyle), and I’m not the type to dance.

Looking back, the only parties I ever recall being invited to were a single birthday, a New Year’s, and two mandatory Grand Galloping Galas. The first had been benign and for my partner. The second involved drinks and nice looking broads, neither of which I had any interest in. The third I had no say on; Gala attendance was mandatory for most Regulators.

Thank the stars I don’t fall in that category anymore.

I smiled at the filly. No need for her to know about amoral parties. “Never really been to any kind of party other than a birthday,” I quickly lied.

“Is that so?” she asked. The look on her face told me she was greatly surprised by my response. “You’ve never attended a party other than birthdays?”

“A birthday,” I quickly corrected her. “It was a one-time deal for my old partner. I’m not one to socialize much. I prefer things quiet and tranquil.”

“Oh. That’s too bad mister,” the filly said with disappointment, “to think you’ve never experienced the wonderful sensation that is a true party!”

“Well, I’ve attended a real party before, but only because I was forced to be in attendance. So it doesn’t count.”

“Forced?” she suddenly asked, “what kind of party would you be forced to attend?”

“The Grand Galloping Gala,” I answered completely deadpan.

“THE GRAND GALLOPING GALA!?” she suddenly shouted in what I could only

describe as near ecstasy. “You’ve been to the Grand Galloping Gala!?”

“Yeah,” I said, recoiling from her sudden outburst, “twice.”

“OH MY GOD!” She squealed in excitement.

I noted the filly’s use of the term ‘God’, which was odd, as most Equestrian citizens still looked up to Celestia as their personal deity. It wasn’t accurate, but old beliefs die hard.

The pink filly leaned in close to my face, close enough that I could smell her breath... It smelled like peppermint.

“WHAT’S THE GALA LIKE!?” she began shouting, “WERE THERE LOTS OF PONIES!? WAS THERE LOTS OF FOOD AND GAMES!? WHAT ABOUT SARSAPARILLA! I LOVE SARSAPARILLA!”

“There were lots of ponies alright,” pampered, rich bastard ponies, “but no so-called ‘games’.” Excluding such classics as ‘who can talk the longest without falling sleep’. “As far as food went, well, I only ate the ‘imported’ food.” I said it with a slightly malicious smile. Yeah, ‘imported’ food... “All in all, the Gala is pointless and needlessly fancy. What else can I say? It's a party held for rich bastards by rich bastards.”

Pinkie suddenly slammed her left hoof down on the counter.

“YOU LIE!” she shouted at me in an incriminating fashion, pointing her right hoof at me, her face twisted in a scowl. “The gala is the greatest party of the year!”

“That’s a glorified lie.” I said, pointing at the window with my right hoof. “Don’t you see? The Gala is little more than a fundraiser for the rich and amoral.” I tapped my left hoof against my head. “They make you believe the Gala is what it used to be. But that ship sailed a long, long time ago.”

“What the Gala used to be?” the filly asked.

“That’s right,” I said in a serious tone. “The Gala wasn’t always some rich pony’s orgy of money and fame. No, it used to mean something.” I paused, then started laughing, prompting the young filly to look at me with confusion.

“You okay mister?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that, I’m repeating the same words my superior officer told me the first time I was in attendance at the Gala. He really hates the Gala, even more than I do. Can’t blame him really; he’s seen it change over the years.”

“Superior officer?” she asked all of a sudden with a broadening smile. “Are you a soldier!?” Her eyes narrowed and her smile didn’t change at all.

“No. I’m, ummm...” I paused, realizing I didn't even know this filly's name. “What's your name anyway kid?” I asked. “The least a filly can do before swarming me with Twenty Questions is introduce herself.”

“Oh, okay!” she said with enthusiasm. She took a deep breath, looking like she was getting ready to dive underwater and started: “My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie. Don’t know why mother picked such a long name, so I call myself Pinkie Pie! Thinking back on my name though, it might have to do with the fact that I’m pink, but I’ve never actually verified that with mother. Then again, my mane is magenta and my eyes are light blue, so who knows? My mom calls the eyes 'cyan,' but I think they're light blue!” She exhaled as though she’d come back up for air and looked at me with the same broad smile. She motioned with her head in an expectant manner. “I’m about 17 years old, I love to bake, throw parties, attend parties, and various other things. The list goes on really.”

“Ah, that clears up a lot.” I said rather sarcastically. “So, your name is Pinkamena.”

“Pinkie,” she said in a slightly flustered way. “That other name… I don’t like it much.”

“Why?” I asked, giving ‘Pinkie’ an inquisitive look.

“I just don’t like it...” she said without giving me as much as a glance. She seemed to brood for a bit, and for a second, I could swear her hair turned a few shades darker.

Suddenly, Pinkie looked back up at me with a broad smile. “Now it’s your turn~!” she said in the same sing-song manner as earlier.

I said nothing at first, studying the filly with a diligent gaze. Can I trust her with my name? She strikes me as odd, but not much of a threat. “Okay,” I said. “name’s Bogart Maltese and I’m what you might call a detective.”

“Detective Bogart Maltese?” Pinkie said with a giggle. “That’s a human name...”

“Yes, it is.” I said, “That’s because I was born in the Federation.”

Pinkie’s face suddenly lit up with excitement at the news. “Oh wow!” she shouted, “You’re from the Federation! What was it like growing up among humans!? What were your parents like?!”

“Well,” I started, “humans aren’t that different from us equines on a social level. They may be more advanced technologically, but that doesn’t make them smarter.” I smiled. “You’d be surprised at how stupid some humans can be.”

“How did your parents meet?” Pinkie asked.

“Never knew who my parents were.” I said without much hesitation. “Whoever they were, they left me at Sunny Ray’s orphanage’s stairs before I could even speak.”

“You’re an orphan!” Pinkie said with sudden horror.

I nodded. “Not that it matters much. I turned out okay,” I said with another malicious smile. “When I turned seventeen, I moved to Equestria.”

“Why did you move?” Pinkie asked. “Didn’t you have friends to take you in?”

“Well,” I started, “I could have gone off to live with a dear friend of mine from the orphanage, but she moved back to her homeland. Despite our relationship, it wouldn’t have worked out so we parted ways.”

“That’s so sad!” Pinkie said. “Who was this dear friend?”

“She’s no one.” I said rather harshly. I looked at Pinkie sternly. She smiled, apparently taking the hint.

Deep down, memories of my once good friend stirred in the black abyss I called my mind. Her voice, so soothing; her gaze, so understanding; I missed her, more than I let on. Part of me wanted to say her name, but I knew damn well that it’d be a risk to do so. Sorry Laura, but I can’t let anyone find out about you. If something were to happen... I looked down at Negotiator and grinned bitterly. If something did happen, I might even put this whole cult business on hold...

Pinkie, though slightly stunned at first, quickly regained her composure.

I merely shook my head. “Getting back to the story,” I started, “I hadn’t lived a year in Equestria before war broke out.” I grimaced. “Was forced to join Civil Protection in order to avoid being deported back to the Federation.”

“So, you ]were a Regime solider!?” Pinkie asked in shock.

“Yes.” I hissed with some shame. “It isn’t something I look back on with pride. I did some nasty things under the Regime’s banner.”

“From what I’ve read in class, a lot of ponies did…” Pinkie suddenly said. She sighed, looking at me with sadness in her eyes. “Soldiers always seem to get the bad cupcakes in life.”

“You can say that again kid.”

“Soldiers always seem to get the bad cupcakes in life,” Pinkie repeated. “Speaking of which…” She suddenly dashed into her kitchen with the speed of a pegasus and came out a minute later holding a tray of every single pastry I could imagine. My mouth watered again. Just the thought of eating was enough to make me smile.

I reached for my saddlebag and pulled out a bag of bits. “How much for a few cupcakes?” I asked, placing the bag on the counter.

“Nothing~!” Pinkie sang with a small hop. “You’re new in town, so you get the guest treatment!” She pushed the bag of bits back to me. “Besides, your surprise party is spoiled, so you might as well just enjoy the delicious snacks I baked for the occasion!” She hopped up and down, smiling with glee.

“Fine by me” I said. I felt the left-side of my mouth curl upwards. This pink pony didn't know it, but that was as close as I ever got to grinning around strangers. I took a small cupcake, peeled the paper cup away and took a bite out of it.

Damn... this isn’t half bad.

“So,” Pinkie suddenly said, head resting on both of her hooves, “What happened after you became a Regime trooper?”

“Well,” I said, putting the half eaten cupcake down, “the usual for poor suckers forced to kill for a damn banner; pain, suffering, life at its lowest.” I chuckled bitterly. “Ironic how a wrong turn was the best damn thing to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Pinkie asked, leaning over the counter in anticipation.

“That wrong move...” I shook my head. “Nah kid; it is worth more to me than a plate of cupcakes to relive that hell.”

“Okay!” Pinkie said with a hop and a smile. She grabbed the now empty plate of cupcakes and walked back into the kitchen. Seconds later, she came out not only holding two platters of freshly baked cupcakes, but a bowl of purple colored punch balanced masterfully on her head. She walked past the counter, out towards the front of the shop, and set everything down on the table nearest the rightmost window.

“Well,” she called out, “are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come here and finish your story?”

I groaned softly, shaking my head in defeat. I walked over to the table, already formulating some excuse to leave. By the time I arrived, Pinkie had already set up two chairs, both facing each other. I took the one nearest the window. She looked at me expectantly, forehooves placed together.

“So, I’m guessing you want me to tell you about my military past, right?” I asked, taking a cupcake and biting the top right off.

“Yes please!” Pinkie said with a smile. She grabbed a cupcake and flung it in the air. She opened her mouth and caught it, eating it in a single bite.

“Listen, kid, you’re nice and all, but...” I sighed, feeling pretty bad about the whole situation. “A stallion’s past is his own. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t.”

“Please!” Pinkie said, placing her hooves together with another pleading look.

I looked away. Dammit, she’s not going to let up, is she? Looking back, I was met with her quickly blinking puppy-dog eyes. I sighed. You’re going soft Bogart. You’re going soft...

“Tell you what kid; you tell me about this town and its citizens, and I’ll go ahead and tell you a story about my days as a soldier.”

“Promise!?” Pinkie asked, shooting forward rather quickly. She was once again mere inches from my nose.

“Yes, I promise.” I told her in a passive tone, pushing her back gently. Not like I mean to actually keep my end of the bargain anyway, I told myself.

“Yes!” Pinkie said in an enthusiastic manner, closing her eyes and smiling wide. “Okay! Here we go!” she said, “It all started...” Pinkie began talking before I had a chance to react. I quickly opened my bag, levitated out my notepad and pen and began scribbling down everything that came out of her mouth.

***

An hour had passed. By the grace of the universe, Pinkie had stopped talking. I let my pen drop, exhaling deeply. I looked at my notepad; twenty filled pages greeted me. Somehow, I had managed to write down every single detail Pinkie had told me. She was beaming, ready to continue at the drop of a hat. For a few seconds, I contemplated getting up and running away as fast as my legs could manage.

That filly’s mouth was a lethal weapon. Each of her words came in a rapid-fire barrage. She spoke far faster than any pony I had ever seen and in an hour, I had not only received a crash course on Ponyville’s recent affairs, but also got a small glimpse at its past as well. Of course, the single most important detail Pinkie had told me - one I almost hadn’t caught due to her rapid-fire pace - was that her mother was none other than the current mayor of the town.

The information, which could potentially turn the tables on my investigation, prompted me to cut in with a few things of my own before Pinkie could start back up again.

“Now hold on just second! Are you telling me that you’re the daughter of the mayor?”

“Yes!” Pinkie said with her trademark-by-now smile and overflowing excitement. “She’s my mother.” She looked at me with sudden confusion. “Why? Is that important?”

“Yes,” I said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Really?” Pinkie asked, “Because, you know, it’s not that special.”

I groaned, resting my head against the back of my chair. Pinkie talked in such a way that even the most arduous listener would eventually get lost in her words. It wasn’t annoying so much as it was just inconvenient. Sighing, I felt some anger rising inside of myself. Eight hours; I’d spent eight hours running back and forth, questioning ponies who were rather reluctant to speak, some not even speaking at all, and the answer to my problem just so happened to fall into my lap out of the blue? It’s too good to be true! What are the odds that this filly holds the key to my success in this case?

“Alright Pinkie” I started with as cheery a demeanor I could manage. “You say your mother is Mayor of this fine town, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m a detective looking for answers; answers that only the mayor might be able to provide.”

“I guess so...”

I sighed, placing a hoof on my face. “I need to speak to your mother.” I said in a slightly annoyed manner. “It’s very important that I do so.”

“But why?” Pinkie asked with a look of honest confusion on her face. “Why do you need to speak to her?”

“It’s detective business.” I said.

“Well, as her daughter, I have a right to know.” Pinkie demanded, shoving her nose into mine. “You say you’re a detective, but what if you aren’t...” Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. “What if you’re some kind of assassin, huh?”

“What!?” I nearly shouted, pressing my nose against hers this time. “You think I’m some sort of assassin!? Why the hell would you think that!?”

“Why else would you demand to see my mother?”

“Like I said, I’M A DETECTIVE!”

“You say that, yet you’ve shown me no proof.” Pinkie said, slowly backing up and gazing at me through narrowed eyes.

“You want proof?” I asked her, starting to feel very flustered, “Fine! Here!” I opened my bag and levitated my badge right in front of her. She looked at it with great surprise. “There! That’s all the proof you’re ever going to get.”

Pinkie grabbed my badge, inspecting it closely. As she did, I could swear her hair turned a whole shade darker.

“So...” Pinkie suddenly said in a softer, slower voice. There was a grin forming as she said it. “All this time, you’ve been lying to me.”

“What!?” I half shouted. “I never lie!” Well, I actually lie quite a lot, but that’s besides the point here!

“You said that you were a detective, yet this isn't a detective's badge. It's a Regulator's badge,” she said, caressing the emblem with her hoof. For some reason, the act sent shivers up my spine.

“Detective, Regulator; they’re both the same.” I said, shaking off the feeling of dread.

“No, they’re not.” Pinkie was walking up to me now. She handed me my badge, which I snatched from her hooves. “You’re a regulator, which means you have a lot of power~” she sang, though in a slow and rather menacing way compared to before.

“Well, that’s true,” I said, “Still, I’m working this case as a detective.”

“But why?” Pinkie asked. “You’ve got quite a bit of power; why not use it?”

“Because...” I stuffed my badge away. “Because I’ve seen what power does. I don’t want to turn into some corrupt officer who tosses his authority around like some swaggering buffoon. No, I’ve got integrity, I’ve got discipline!”

“But has it helped you solve this case at all?” Pinkie asked me in what I would have sworn was a sultry tone.

“No, it hasn’t...” I whispered, looking away slightly.

I turned back to looking at Pinkie, and noticed again that her coloring had seemed to fade and darken even further. On top of that, her hair seemed to have lost some of its bouncy consistency, becoming rather straight. As I looked into her eyes, I noted something awfully different. I couldn’t quite explain it, but Pinkie’s eyes gave off a malicious aura

It was unsettling.

“Well,” Pinkie suddenly said, the color quickly returning to her body, her hair puffing back up to its cotton-candy form. “It’s cool to know that you’re a Regulator!” She hopped around me like a hyperactive foal that had eaten one too many sugarcubes. Her tone was back to normal now. “You guys are the real deal! Heroes among heroes!” She then began berating me with even more questions about my life, my job, and my skills.

Before I lost my head, I grabbed her by the shoulders, looked at her exasperatedly and yelled, “Will you please be QUIET!”

Pinkie recoiled in shock and I exhaled slowly, sitting down on the closest chair I could find.

“Just please...” I said in a tired voice, “Keep quiet...” I sighed, closing my eyes and taking in the silence around me.

Things were indeed quiet for a few seconds, and I sighed in relief before I heard I heard a soft sobbing.

I opened my eyes and looked at Pinkie, who was now sitting on her haunches, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh no...” I said out loud right before Pinkie broke down into openly crying.

“Why do you have to be such a meanie!” Pinkie asked between heaving breaths as she stood up, looking me in the eyes. “All I wanted was to make you a happy colt!”

“Dammit!” I half yelled, “Please! Stop crying!” I was starting to feel frustrated. “I… I…” I stammered. I looked away, placing my hoof over my mouth. Dammit! Nothing I hate more than a crying filly... “Please!” I said, looking back at Pinkie, “Stop crying!”

Pinkie only kept wailing, tears streaming down her face in little, bitter waterfalls.

This isn’t working... Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“Okay!” I shouted, grabbing Pinkie by shoulders a second time. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you, okay?”

Pinkie kept crying but the worst of it stopped almost instantly. “You really mean it?” she sniffed, wiping some of the tears from her eyes.

“Yes!” I said in a rather rushed manner. She was looking at me, still sad. I sighed. “Look, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Well,” she said, wiping away more tears, “you can keep your promise.” She smiled. “You said you would tell me a story about your military days.”

“Well...” I started, unsure about how best to continue. Bogart, you did promise, I told myself. Then again, I hadn’t planned on keeping that promise in the first place.

The more I thought about it, the more I told myself that keeping my word was the correct thing to do. Still, I’d better make sure the story I told this filly wouldn’t be too traumatizing.

This might be a bit difficult...

I sighed, grabbing my chair to take a seat again. “I’ll keep my word. I’ll tell you a war tale, though I warn you; you may not like what you hear.”

“Yay!” Pinkie yelled at the top of her lungs. She grabbed the nearest chair and quickly sat on it, looking as happy as ever. She also had a bag of popcorn in her lap. Where she got it, I didn’t know, nor did I want to.

I took a deep breath and started my tale.

“Well, my story begins on a warm night...”

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