Author's Notes:

Finally getting into the Manehattan arc. It was tricky writing the dialogue, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. Things are about to get interesting to say the least. As always, I love reading your comments, and thanks for following the story so far.

Fall leaves drifted lazily on the breeze as nearly all of Ponyville joined in the festivities. Cheese leaned against a tree, poncho donned and absentmindedly twirling his wide brimmed hat. The festival was going off without a hitch, just as always, but he did not have the heart to join in. Pinkie would have dragged him over to the party if she had been there. Despite her constant insistence to enjoy every party until the end, he still retained the belief that it was better to slip out quietly before it died out. The end of parties was far too close to funerals for his taste.

Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash walked over to join him. Twilight eyed him over suspiciously, "Cheese? You weren't thinking of slipping out without saying goodbye?"

He grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, well, it's kinda what I do best."

The alicorn smiled warmly, "Well, I'm glad we caught you then. When are you leaving?"

"I'm taking the night train. I should probably get going." He made to move, but was stopped by Fluttershy of all ponies. "Yes?"

"Good…good luck." The quiet mare flushed bright pink, shuffling uncomfortably in the dirt. "Please be careful."

"I'll try. But-" He grimaced, imagining the massive task ahead of him. "-no guarantees."

That confused the group more, and they anxiously turned to Twilight. She cleared her throat, "Cheese, maybe some of us should go with you."

"No, no." The stares of his friends were more than intimidating, and he decided to cut their chat short. "See you later!" Without another word edgewise, he took off at a dead gallop towards the station.

Only after he was settled into the compartment did his heart stop pounding. There was nothing quite as wonderful as having friends, but he knew better. Knew that the moment they agreed to come, he would back out. Either they would convince him, or his nerves would simply break him apart. No, I've got to do this myself. I've got to.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was pouring rain in Manehattan when the train pulled in. The hour marked the start of the early morning commute, and everypony appeared to be in a rush. Ponies galloped across the streets, huddled under umbrellas and awnings as they attempted to keep their business casuals clean. It was a comical contrast from the rock farm. He did not hesitate a second, and strode right into the downpour. Walking is what he needed right now.

The rain soaked through his poncho and into his coat, but he could have cared less. A cart splashed him with wave of icy water; he walked on. Reverberating sounds filled his ears, setting them ringing before long. Was it always so loud? How'd I ever sleep? Shaking it off, he continued down the familiar streets, hooves moving mechanically along the familiar streets.

In the half hour it took to walk to Scribe Limited's headquarters, the rain had all but dissipated, leaving behind a thick mist. Cheese stared up at the skyscraper, towering high above most every building around. The entrance was made from a highly polished marble, glistening gaudily in the sunlight peeking between the clouds. He inhaled deeply, carefully striding inside.

The well-lit entryway was so massive, it could easily have fit two of Rarity's boutiques snugly inside its walls. His hooves sounded uncomfortably loud, echoing and magnifying against the marble floor. Sliding to a halt in front of the desk, he smiled at the unicorn behind it. "Hello."

Without looking up, she gestured to her right. "Contractor's entrance is over there. Don't let the higher ups catch you here."

Contractor? He glanced down at his filthy poncho and drenched coat, which was forming a pool on the marble. Taking off the traveling clothes, he tried again. "My name's Cheese Sandwich. I'd like to speak to Mr. Scribe."

The scratching of her quill stopped as she adjusted the thin glasses perched on her muzzle. "Mine's none of your business, and I'd like an audience with Celestia." Snorting at her own joke, she continued writing furiously.

Cheese sighed. Why's she being so difficult? Guess there's no use hiding it. Clearing his throat, he continued, careful to emphasize the important bits. "Sorry. My given name is Rory Scribe, Storm Scribe's son. I need to speak to my father. Where is he?"

The unicorn dropped the quill, staring mouth ajar at the stallion. Is he mental? "You do know Mr. Scribe is a unicorn, so's his wife."

"Of course I do!" How could I forget? "But, I'm their son. Don't they ever talk about me?" Cheese knew the answer. There was no way his parents would talk about their disgrace of a son to anypony. As far as he knew, they raised him in relative obscurity, never mentioning they had a child.

"No, they don't." Celestia, he's a lunatic. What do I do? Heart pounding, the young mare turned to the bell on her desk. If I ring security for nothing, I might get fired. But if I let him stroll on through, I'll be fired for sure. Biting her lip, she made to speak, "I-"

"-I'll just be on my way." The mare's panic had been apparent, and he was the last pony to try and cause trouble for her. Winking, he made his way to the rear of the entryway. "Can I take the back exit?"

Relief washed over her petite features. "Sure. Thanks for understanding."

"Yup." He walked on until he was just out of sight. Then, he paused, searching for the secondary stairway. Finding it, he slowly opened the metal door and slipped inside. Pinkie would have been furious with him at lying to the secretary. But what was he to do? Slowly and as quietly as possible, he climbed upwards.

Storm Scribe's executive suite was on the top floor, so it took a long time to reach it. Finally, he made it to the top floor, and started back when he stepped out into a poorly lit, narrow hallway. The luxurious emerald green carpet was just up his father's alley all right. It seemed to stretch indefinitely forward, until it finally ended in a pair of massive oak doors. They were polished so vigorously, he could see his reflection in them. Typical father. Inhaling deeply, he pushed them back and entered the office.

Another secretary was busy at work, writing furiously and frowning at a stack of envelopes on the desk. The elderly mare looked up, frowning, "Sir, you don't have an appointment. I'll have to ask you to leave."

Cheese rolled his eyes, "Sorry, but this is important. I need to speak with my father." As boldly as he dared, he strode past the unicorn and towards a second set of doors. Mortified, the secretary leapt up, hoof held vainly in the air. For a blessed instant, he paused outside the doors. If he turned back now, nopony would fault him. But no, not this time. This time he would act.

Storm Scribe was seated behind a massive oak desk, levitating a piece of parchment and lost in thought. At the sound of the door, he looked up, an irritated snarl starting at the corners of his smooth shaven face. "Just who do you think you are barging into my office? What are you doing here?"

"Come to have a chat with you."

"Chat?" The snarl stretched wider, "Just what makes you think I want to have a chat with you? Who are you anyway?"

A cold, sharp laugh broke the stillness. Inwardly, Cheese cringed at the realization that it was his own voice. "You don't remember me? I'll grant that it might be difficult, you never did spend much time with me."

For an instant, Storm wanted nothing more than to shake down the stranger until he divulged his identity. Then, just as suddenly, realization dawned. "Rory?" His eyes darted over his son, taking in the improbability of the situation. As he adjusted, his teeth clenched tight, hooves shaking. "Leave."

Cheese shrugged in a would-be casual gesture. "What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'll make you." The office chair clattered to the ground as he stood.

A heavy sigh escaped Cheese, "Your temper is as short as always. I didn't come to pick a fight."

Storm glowered appraisingly at Cheese. He's taller than I thought he'd be, and stronger. The cheese sandwich plastered on his rump amused him greatly. I knew he'd be worthless, but this? What kind of sorry excuse for a job does he have? "Do you cook, Rory?"

"Huh?" That was random. Then he remembered his cutie mark. Father showing an interest? Now that's suspicious. "I'm a party planner. Didn't Mother tell you?"

"Party Planner? Oh, yes, she did mention something like that." Storm did not want to imagine the horrendous parties his son planned. Tacky, no doubt. From Starlight's story, Cheese had been less than thrilled to see her. Stood up to her then came crawling to me. Interesting. "If you want me to intercede, I won't."

"No, I wouldn't give you that honor." He took a long look at his father and nearly started at all the changes. His onyx coat was flecked with grey, and his short mane was the color of silver. Though lean and long legged, Storm stood at least half a hand shorter than him. A smirk creased his face. Why was I afraid? What can he do?

"If you came to make me grovel at your hooves for forgiveness, you're wasting your time."

"That would be ideal, but I'm not holding my breath." Casually, he strode around the sparsely decorated office, surprised anypony could work in such a boring environment. "I've got a marefriend now."

Storm snorted, "So what? She's an earth pony, Starlight told me." He stood straighter, lifting his head to emphasize his over long horn. "Even if she was a unicorn, I would not welcome her."

Cheese plowed on ahead as though Storm was not there. "She's the kindest, most forgiving mare you'd ever meet. Guess it comes from having a great family."

The train of the conversation began to frustrate Storm. "So what? You going to regale me with the woes of your colthood, how we didn't love you?"

"No." A spinning model of Equestria peaked his interest, and he fidgeted absentmindedly with it. "I spent some time on her family's farm. Her Dad had broken his leg, and they needed help. So, I went, and we worked together for days. You know, he never took a break. He loved that rock farm, and gave one hundred percent each and every day."

Storm's emerald eyes rolled sarcastically, "An earth pony playing in the dirt, how unusual. Do tell more."

"Pinkie's the same way, she never slows down, not for a second. Every minute of every day is spend helping somepony. It's all I can do to get her to take a break." He continued his circuit around the room, pausing at the window. "Thanks to my friends, I've learned to work just as hard to reach my own goals. Still, I can't help thinking there's more I can do."

A swish of irritation started in Storm's tail. "So, you're a good citizen. What of it?"

Cheese walked over to his father, until they were close enough to touch. "I've seen the way you treat us."

"Us?"

"Earth ponies and pegasi. All my life I've watched you degrade any measure of success they have." Taking a deep breath, he stood as straight as possible, "I want you to admit. Admit that though they live their lives differently than you, they deserve every ounce of respect and curtsey as unicorns do."

Storm let out a familiar harsh laugh, "You must be joking, Rory. Earth ponies, pegasi, my equal? Why do you suppose the leaders of this great country are beings of intense magical prowess?"

"They understand the balance between the races."

His emerald eyes stared piercingly into Cheese's. "What balance, Rory? There never was a balance, and never will be. Earth ponies are simpletons whose world consists only of what they feel in their grubby hooves. Give your kind power and they waste it."

Cheese sighed, lowering his head, "You just don't understand. Do you?"

"Understand what? That you'll always be useless?" He sniffed, "I knew that from your birth."

"You think there is only one measure of success. But you're wrong."

"Wrong am I? The world tends to agree with my definition, Rory." Storm glowered triumphantly, gesturing to his office.

"Then, maybe the world needs some readjusting." Cheese strode forward towards the door. Before he opened it, he turned around. "Whatever happens, remember I gave you a chance."

Storm pinned his ears, "'Whatever happens?' Don't make me laugh! What can you do against me?"

A soft smile spread across Cheese's face. "Nothing. I'm just a useless earth pony. Remember?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Oatmeal, detestable stuff. If I could get my hooves on the dimwit who invented it, I'd… A loud crash diverted Starlight's attention from the breakfast table. In the corner of the studio, a frantic looking red mare was attempting to lick together two pieces of a display piece together. Giving up that attempt, the thick set pony tried to magic them together, which caused an untimely explosion of plaster dust. Rolling her eyes, Starlight called out to her. "Prius, come here."

The mare trundled cheerily towards her, round face red from the exertion. "Yes, Starlight?"

Starlight chose to avoid the unicorn's comedy routine for now. Instead, she gestured pointedly at her breakfast, and the bowl of oatmeal seated in the center. "Do you know what this is?"

"Oatmeal, ma'am." Her face lit up, making her look even more like the tomato she so resembled. "I made it with my mom's secret recipe. It's great for calming nerves. I thought, with the shoot coming, you'd like some."

Starlight glowered at the bowl, then up at the mare. In the past month, she had gone through five assistants. All had been venomous, double-crossing upstarts, ready to fight tooth and nail for a chance to model. Nothing tickled her quite like the wars that broke out amongst them when she dropped hints of a model opening. But, recently, she began to tire of it all. So, she searched out a completely different type of pony. Seeing Prius' concerned expression made her feel strangely warm inside. "I don't eat oatmeal, Prius."

"Oh my goodness." She clasped a hoof to her mouth, "I'm so sorry, Starlight."

"It's quite all right. Truth be told, I used to eat oatmeal all the time when I was a filly, so I'm sick of it." Why did I tell her that? Changing the subject, she gestured to a small, pink slip on the table in front of her lounge. "Quick Note's given me quite the tidbit of information."

Prius eyed it curiously. "Quick Note?"

"My husband's secretary. She's a fossil, but always keeps me up to date." Starlight put on her best imitation of a sweet smile, "You may read it if you like. There's not much there."

"Thank you, ma'am." Levitating the note, Prius read rapidly. "You're son's in town? And he went to see Storm Scribe?"

"I told you it was interesting." Starlight looked around at the chaotic mess of the studio as the ponies prepared. "And?"

"And, well, she says he's threatened Storm with something, but I don't see why." Prius's green eyes looked concerned, "You said he was a washed up party pony. Why would he threaten Mr. Scribe, and with what?"

A hungry snarl stretched across her face. "What indeed." From the bustle around them, the shoot would be happening soon. She had to act quickly or she would miss her chance. "I want to know exactly how he intends to punish Storm. You will go and investigate for me. The studio is providing assistants for the day, so you won't be missed."

"Investigate? Ma'am, I'm no detective."

Starlight let out a filly like giggle, "Oh, don't you worry. You'll catch on."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The streets of Manehattan were flooded with water, typical for the fall season, and Cheese was walking straight through the deepest part. Then again, the south side was always flooding. Guess that's why they call it a flood plain. The worst part was, that the narrow streets had no sidewalks, and anypony wishing to walk by had to go on the cart road. A cold shock rocketed up his body as he fell up to his knees in a massive pothole. The icy water seemed to seek out every dry spot he had left, and soon his whole underside was drenched.

Climbing out of it, he looked up into the grey sky, willing the rain to stop but he knew better. For some unfathomable reason, the weather ponies always scheduled a solid week of rain during the fall. This was supposed to be compensation for all the sunny days they gave during tourist season. He just wished somepony had thought of a drainage system before setting the practice in place. Ah well, might as well make the most of it. Whinnying with delight, he leapt into as many puddles as he could find, splashing water back into the heavens.

As he moved down the street, the neighborhoods became less and less savory. Building after building was covered in graffiti, abandoned, or just downright neglected. Inwardly he shuddered, remembering the news stories he had heard as a colt. Still, he had to keep going. By the time he found the grubby brick building, his mane was nearly completely flat from the weight of the rain water. He looked up at the peeling signage, "Milo Coltfax: Prosecuting Attorney." Guess business has been slow. Taking one deep breath, he opened the small door and entered the office.

The smell of moldering paper greeted his nostrils, and it was immediately apparent as to why. Piles and piles of files were stacked in towering columns around the cramped office. Buried in-between the two largest stacks, was a secretary hard at work. Starting at the disturbance, she looked up, "Oh my, can I help you?"

"I was hoping to talk to Mr.Coltfax. Is he taking cases?"

"He is." Not. I can't get him to take so much as a stolen property case these days. She smiled sweetly at the young stallion, "But, you can't go looking like that."

An embarrassed smile flitted across his face. "Oh, sorry. Should I come back later?"

"No, no. I just thought you'd have a better chance of-" She bit her tongue. "-getting him to take your case." In fact, there was nothing that would have peaked Milo's interest quite like a rain drenched stallion asking for help. Recently however, he had locked himself in that office, pouring over old case files, dead to the world. Quill wanted to slap him. Watch, he'll finally get an interesting case, only to get sidetracked chasing ghosts. Typical Milo. Seeing the stallion's questioning gaze, she continued, "Come on, I've got some towels in the back."

"Thanks." The narrow hallway snaked through a few more mountains of files until they reached a dimly lit closet where Quill pulled out a pile of fluffy towels. Winking, she pointed back towards the front, and Cheese led on. After a dry off, and a cup of lukewarm coffee, Cheese felt ready to approach Coltfax.

Quill looked almost nervous as she led Cheese to the office. Raising a magenta hoof, she knocked pointedly, and opened the door a crack. "Milo, there's a Mr. Sandwich to see you."

A husky voice sounded from inside the room, "Sandwich? I didn't order any sandwiches!"

She rolled her eyes, "No, not sandwiches, Mr. Sandwich. He's a potential client."

"I’m not taking any. Go away!"

Quill swished her silver tail irritably, "If you don't crawl out of your hole right now, so help me I'll-"

"–Maybe I should try someplace else. He doesn't seem too happy." Cheese started to walk down the hall, but was stopped by Quill's hoof.

"Milo's the best prosecuting attorney in Equestria. Please, stay, I know I can talk him out of this. He's just been in a slump." Desperation was written all over the mare's lined face, "Please, give him a chance."

How could I say no to that face? Nodding, he turned back to the door, and opened it. The inside of the office was worse than he pictured it. Every square inch of the place was littered in papers and files. Adding to the chaos were piles of newspaper clippings, pencils, quills, and the odd paperclip. The dingy window on the back wall reminded Cheese of criminal dramas he had seen in the theaters. In the center of it all, sitting atop a mound of paperwork was a power blue unicorn, wearing the grimiest suit Cheese had ever seen. He scowled at Cheese, "What do you want?"

"I've got a case I think you'll like." Walking gingerly on the papered floor, he made his way towards Milo. "My father needs to be taken down, and I understand you're old enemies."

"Old enemies? With who?" A ridiculous image of a newspaper headline flashed in his mind, "'Mr. Sandwich senior taken down hard: to serve a life sentence in the tomato factories.'" Shaking his head, he pointed at the stallion's cheese sandwich cutie mark. "No offense, kid, but I'm not interested in prosecuting the case of pilfered lettuce. Last time I checked, I didn't know anypony by the surname Sandwich. Why would I be enemies with a pony I've never met?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He had completely forgotten Quill's introduction as Cheese Sandwich. Of course nopony would get the connection between him and his father. Standing straighter, he continued, "Sorry about the mix up. Cheese Sandwich is a nickname. My given name is Rory Scribe. I believe you've had a few run ins with my father, Storm Scribe."

The knowing smirk stretching across his stubbled face vanished in an instant. It can't be. Can it? Jumping to his feet, he stared intently at the stranger, and felt his stomach churn. The resemblance was not glaring, but it was there. Icy daggers of rage seethed inside him as the stallion's green eyes watched him. The same eyes that had sentenced him to a life of obscurity and ruin. But no, that was not right. This pony, whoever he was, was not his father. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself. "What do you want?"

"I want you to bring him to trial."

Hope sparked in Milo's eyes once more. Certainly, the stallion could be bringing up false charges to steal Scribe's company or something. On the other hoof, he could be genuinely interested in seeing justice done. Please be the latter. "On what charges, Mr. Scribe?"

Cheese started at being addressed with his father's name. It made him want to vomit, but he held his tongue. Let's not lower our chances, Cheese. "On the charges of child abuse and neglect."

That got Milo's attention. The hope was almost uncontainable now. "Was it ongoing, or an incident?"

Cheese gritted his own teeth now. "Ongoing, until I finally ran off."

A wide grin made its way across Milo's lined face. They had it in the bag now. "Perfect."

Cheese swished his tail irritably, pinning his ears. "You call being abused your whole colthood perfect?"

Milo's heart lurched. You idiot Milo! Why'd you go and say something like that? "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive. But, from a legal perspective it's a good thing."

"From a legal perspective?" This is what I get for dropping out of school early. What's he on about?

"Yes, all child abuse and neglect cases go straight to the princesses. That means, he can't buy off the judges like last time. And, you'll have the jury's sympathy with the runaway aspect. It's a perfect legal storm."

"I suppose, but father's done a lot to other ponies too. Their cases need to be heard."

Milo laughed loudly, pointing around at the papers. "They will be. These are all the cases I have relating to Storm Scribe, and they'll be more to come. When ponies start realizing we have a chance to take him down, they'll be flocking in with their own stories."

Worry creased Cheese's face. "What about the evidence?"

Milo shrugged, unconcerned, "It'll flood in. Combined with yours, it'll knock the defense on their rumps."

"But-" He gulped, shuffling uncomfortably, "-I don't have any evidence."

"WHAT?" Milo felt his heart skip a beat. "You mean you wanted to pursue criminal charges without a shred of evidence? What were you thinking?"

"I thought Celestia would take my word."

"Even if she did, she couldn't do anything to Scribe. Royal law demands evidence. The princesses can't defy that mandate because they have a suspicion." Milo noted the disheartened expression on Cheese's face. He felt every bit as lousy. It was like somepony had dangled everything he ever wanted right in front of him, then wrenched it away at the last second. "Listen, is there anypony who was a witness to the incidents, who could testify to their truth? Psychical proof? Anything?"

"No, I don't think-" His heart stopped. It was so simple, so brilliant that he had not thought of it before. "Mother. She, she saw almost all of it."

Milo let out a wolfish grin. "Perfect. You have her testify, and we'll be set."

"It's not so simple. She hates me and everything I stand for. Why would she agree to something like that?"

"Don't give up yet. We'll think of some way to convince her. I'm sure she'll come around. In the meantime-" Milo pointed around at the office. "-let's get this mess sorted out, and you can tell me about your father."

"All right." If the piles of paperwork were any indication, Milo had more than a few questions for him. He smiled at the unicorn's determination. I'm not working alone anymore. With him helping, we'll have a solid case. But, that still leaves mother. How can he be so sure she'll testify? I hope for everypony's sake he's right.