Trixie lays on her back, body wrapped in the sheets and her mouth wide open, tongue out and drool soaking the sides of her mouth and pillow as her sickly snoring shakes the room. Her chest rises and falls with every cycle, and every so often, one of her hind legs, which both are pointing straight up like rolled over road kill, will kick at an invisible foe as her forehooves grip her pillow tightly to her chest.

She is so peaceful. So comfortable. So oblivious to Minty sneaking in her room with a maniacal smile that takes up her whole face. She is so lost in her slumber and loving the feeling of no pain that she does not realize that Minty's hooves are now pushing against her body. What she does feel, though, is a sudden roll, followed by a long drop and a face full of carpet with a thud echoing and shaking in her room. The resulting pain is like getting a face full of concrete and someone punching every bruise and scab on her body at the same time, like a sadistic ninja, and Trixie lets everyone know how much pain she is in by a loud yell, colorful swears and vicious kicks to get herself untangled from her sheets.

“Ow! Son of a bitch! Minty!” cries Trixie with tears in her eyes and muzzle scrunched from her snarl.

She hears Minty giggling and the bed bounce, and when she turns to the source, she sees Minty standing on her bed, grinning from ear to ear wearing a decorative dress. However, nice dress or not, Trixie is not happy, and the sheets will not let her go from their tangled grip, and she wounds up screaming and flailing her hooves madly while her horn sparks, leaving small singes on the sheet.

“What the hell? I was sleeping!” says Trixie, now with one hoof free but her whole body throbbing and feeling like it is being torn by the seams.

“You gotta be at work in an less than an hour, so I had to wake you up,” says Minty.

Trixie stops fighting the tyrannical bed sheet, and she groans and flops to the ground with her free hoof over her eyes, wincing as her head feels like it is pulsating. “Can't I call out? I don't feel so good.”

“You can't call out on your first day, that's just bad. Besides, its a two hour minimum to call out.”

Minty hops off of the bed and frees Trixie from her tangled mess with one pull. The pull spins Trixie in the air for a quick moment before she belly flops the floor, leaving the unicorn laying on the floor, whimpering and shaking from more pain in her abdomen, and Minty patting her on her back does not make her feel any better.

“You'll be fine. I made you some breakfast to get you going,” says Minty.

That just makes Trixie mad, but all she can do is growl into the carpet. She does not stay face down on the carpet because Minty grabs her and helps her to her hooves and escorts Trixie out of her room.

Trixie cringes with every limping step, for they bring numerous, small pin pricks all over her body as well, and the part that was cauterized feels like the scab is rubbing off. Trixie wants to scold Minty more for not letting her sleep and not letting her call out, but when she actually looks at her parole officer and registers what she is wearing, curiosity gets the best of her.

“What are you wearing?” says Trixie.

“This is a dress I got a little while ago when I was in Miner's Country,” says Minty.

She giggles and turns gracefully, showing off the lightweight and flowery fabric of the skirt and the dark corset with the gold and pink flowers that covers the pink under layer, also made of light fabric. The under layer covers her front legs and the flowery skirt covers all but the tip of her tail. Trixie as to admit that it looks good on her, and it really does cling to her body in a way that keeps her natural curves showing while remaining respectful.

“It cost me a hundred bits and I had it mailed here. It just came in this morning. What do you think? Good? Bad? Ugly? Great? Mediocre? Bland? Frufru? Manly?”

Before Minty can say another word, Trixie's hoof shoots up, and the unicorn sighs and rubs her temple with her hoof while her head dips and her eyes close.

“Its... nice.” Trixie looks at Minty, biting back tears as she rubs the back of her tender head. “Are you going on a date or something?”

Minty shakes her head. “No, I'm meeting somebody.”

“So, a date, then?”

“No. Not a date. A meeting.”

“Like a drug deal kind of meeting?”

Minty frowns. “Really, Trixie? Why would I go to a drug deal looking like a flower pony?”

“I don't know. Deception? Its a common trick. Somepony acts nice and friendly, and then they lure their prey in and next thing you know you are poisoned, locked in a room with no way out and on your way to becoming a slave!”

When Trixie is done, she is hyperventilating and her heart races as she has Minty's shoulders in her hooves and her eyes are locked to Minty's. All her parole officer can do is stare back at her, eyes wide and mouth sealed, but a moment later, her confused look melts into one of discomfort as her eyes shift between her dress and Trixie's face.

“Did my dress trigger something?” asks Minty.

Trixie sighs and slides off of Minty, shaking her head and feeling an uncomfortable weight in her chest and throat. “No, I... I don't know. The dress is nice. It really is. But, I guess I'm still on edge after almost getting killed yesterday and not being able to save Bon Bon.”

Trixie sulks past Minty and heads to the kitchen, wincing as her sore muscles tighten, reducing her walk to a limp, and her parole officer walks after her.

“Yeah, about that,” says Minty. “If you're going to be fighting crooks -which I seriously do not mind you doing- do me a favor and tell me before you go out and wear some pads. We can't afford to be constantly buying new sheets or turning the kitchen into a hospital.”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “Well, if you got some pads then I'll gladly wear them.”

Right as Trixie sees the small dining room she spots a collection of cupcakes sitting on the table. More specifically, the green frosting spiraling up in a perfect twist. She can smell their deliciousness all the way from her spot and has to swallow her saliva collecting in her mouth from the anticipation and desire, lest she wants froth to come out of her mouth like a rabid animal.

“Can I have one?” asks Trixie meekly, her hoof aimed at one of the mint cupcakes.

“Of course you can, silly. That’s why I baked them,” says Minty, smiling broadly.

Trixie snatches one of the mint cupcakes and takes a seat at the table, with Minty sitting across from her and taking a strawberry frosting. Upon biting into the pastry, Trixie's body shudders from the holy taste on her tongue, but that feeling doesn’t last too long. She remembers how Minty was so angry with her last night that she could barely talk to her, but she did not throw her tail in jail and she helped patch her up. So, she knows Minty deserves an apology from her for being so careless, and a thanks for her helping her out.

“Hey, Minty, about last night,” begins Trixie.

Minty holds up her hoof. “Don't.”

“But I-”

“I know, and everything will be okay once we get the ones who killed Bon Bon and turn them in.”

“So, you're okay with me going after criminals late at night and you are giving me permission to go after the ones who killed Bon Bon even though I almost died last night?”

“I'm pretty sure I said that indirectly a couple of minutes ago.”

“...What kind of parole officer are you?”

“One of a kind.” Minty points at the trio of bruises on Trixie's chest from when Winny shot her. “How are those feeling, by the way?”

Trixie looks down and inspects herself, wincing from the pain of her movements. “Well, not too bad compared to yesterday. Either those bullets sucked or I was born bullet proof.”

Minty rests her chin on her hoof while Trixie takes a bite out of her cupcake.

“I doubt you were born bulletproof," says Minty. "Do you remember what the griffin that shot you looked like? Maybe we can track them down and get some answers out of them. Who knows? Maybe that griffin was the one that killed Bon Bon.”

“I actually know her,” says Trixie, her mouth now full of half chewed cupcake. “Her name is Winny and she wanted me to visit her at some place called the Roost that's somewhere on Dream Boulevard.”

“That was actually a way better answer than what I thought I would get. I'll see what I can find about Winny, and maybe she can tell us what the deal was between the griffins and Bon Bon. But, before we do that...”

Minty gets up and heads to her room, and a moment later she returns with something draped over her back and her notebook in her mouth. She spits the book on the table and tosses the draped item on Trixie's face, covering her vision in a gray cloth that feels delightful on her coat.

Trixie purposefully pulls it off slowly so the soft fabric can rub against her, and when she has it in her hooves she quickly realizes that it is the same outfit that Minty wore yesterday. Not sure if Minty is serious or pulling her tail, she looks at the earth pony with a raised brow.

“Uh, Minty, why did you give me your dress?” asks Trixie.

“Its not a dress, its a frock, and I gave it to you so you don't walk into work looking like poorly stitched doll,” says Minty.

Trixie blinks, looks down, then shrugs and puts it on, thinking Minty has a point. Then she looks at the notebook when Minty opens it up to a very detailed picture of Bon Bon’s office. Including suspected body location and the injuries Bon Bon sustained, the open safe, location of binders, contents of loose papers and special events marked on the calender. with everything labeled and sheets of paper with numbers and names on them. This fries Trixie's brain and her ability speak and blink, and Minty coolly scribbles down “Winny- Roost- Dream Blvd.” in her notebook, and then closes it and grabs her keys.

“Come on, Trixie, I got to get you to work,” says Minty.

Trixie nods, grabs a couple more cupcakes with her magic, and winces with the first few steps, but after those few steps come and go, the pain subsides to a tolerable level. When they reach the elevator they have to share it with an older earth pony stallion with a grayish amber coat and a gray mane and tail with three bags of money for a cutie mark. The tie on his suit is carelessly put on and his suit is a mess, along with his mane and tail. The two mares look at him as he whistles casually, occasionally glancing at the two. Trixie thinks nothing of it, but Minty gets an evil smile and she leans towards the stallion.

“It sounded like you and that Misty girl had a great time, last night, Mister Rich. You should invite me next time,” says Minty.

Filthy Rich’s whistling instantly stops, his whole body stiffens, and his face quickly turns redder than a red delicious apple as he looks at Minty out of the corner of his eye. Trixie’s eyes also widen and she looks at Minty, who appears to be enjoying herself a little too much. When the door opens up to the lobby the stallion bolts out of the apartment complex and disappears into the crowd of ponies making their commute to work.

“What was that all about? Do you know him?” asks Trixie while stepping out of the elevator.

“I recognized him as one of the business-stallions whose financing the Celestial Spire. But he kept me up all night with his rutting. It sounded rough to be honest,” says Minty casually.

“Okay, I don’t want to know.”

“I mean it went on for hours. Just when I thought they were done they went at it again! I mean, us earth ponies got stamina, but his was ridiculous!”

“Minty!”

“What? I’m just saying.”

Minty and Trixie step into the parking lot, and sudden morning sunlight hurts Trixie's eyes and her head drifts up to look at the clouds. They are far and few, but what little there is are white and fluffy, adding a sense of peace to the morning rush.

They walk towards Joe in silence. Minty with her bounce and Trixie sluggishly following her behind, munching on her minty cupcake. When they get in the vehicle they start their trek to Fancy Entertainment with the radio playing. Currently a slow rock song is playing, but under the pretenses of it being boring, Minty changes the channel. This time it goes to an actual rock song, and in no time Trixie finds herself singing along with the super manly voice that is singing alongside the epic electric guitar.

“LiGHT thE waAay and let me gooooOOH! Suh-focaaAte inside! I will break and watch you craaaawlll! BURHEY meeeEeE alive!” sings Trixie.

Minty looks at Trixie, utterly repulsed from how her singing voice makes nails on a chalkboard merciful, and she quickly changes the channel, much to Trixie's annoyance.

“Hey, I was listening to that!” whines Trixie.

“I'm sorry, the channel wasn't coming in good,” says Minty.

“Change it back! The channel was just fine!”

“Mmmm, no. Lets see what else is on.”

Minty changes the channel again, and she keeps doing this every few seconds, barely giving Trixie's brain to register the music and words, and leaving only a festering rage inside her that she is not hiding well.

Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch.

Trixie's eye twitches.

Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch.

Trixie's jaw tightens.

Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch.

Trixie feels her teeth grinding against each other.

Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch.

A very loud growl rumbles in Trixie's throat and her muscles tense as her ear flicks and her teeth feel like they are going to crack.

Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch. Switch.

“STOP THAT!” yells Trixie, her hoof blocking Minty from abusing the channel button any further.

“There's nothing good on,” says Minty defensively.

“You're not even giving it a chance to play anything.”

“Just eat your cupcakes and let me drive.”

“Says the mare who's messing with the radio in heavy traffic. What if we crash because of you?”

“Hey, I'm a great driver!” claims Minty as she runs a red light, heading straight into traffic.

“MINTY!”

“JEEZE!”

Minty swerves around the oncoming traffic, and they luckily slam on their breaks and turn so that Joe is not double t-boned, filling the air with honks and screeching tires. When they are in the all clear, Minty pokes her head out the window and shouts an apology while the drivers shout at her and shake their hooves or honk their horns at her. After that, she meets Trixie's shocked look with an uneasy smile.

“I mean I'm a good driver,” says Minty.

“You almost got us killed!” says Trixie, her voice cracking and her body pressed against the door as her heart beats like a trapped hummingbird.

“I did not.”

“Yeah you did!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No I did not! You're just overreacting. And, yeah, go ahead and lean against the door. I'm sure you'll have fun falling out and getting hit by traffic.”

Trixie gulps and straightens herself out, and for safety, she checks her seat belt and sighs with relief when she finds it secured. Then she looks at Minty with a small frown.

“You're morbid, you know that?” says Trixie.

“You know what else I am?” asks Minty.

“What?”

“Master of the radio.”

Before Trixie can react, Minty changes the radio channel again, but instead of changing it like Trixie thought she would, she stares at it, shocked with a clamped mouth. She occasionally looks up to guide Joe through the traffic, but her focus is mostly devoted to the country mare speaking over the radio. The mare is getting worked up over something and from the way she is talking it sounds like shes on a roll.

“-I have found that those that say we should love and tolerate all the most are the biggest hypocrites there are, compared to those who use it sparingly. They use those words as words of convenience, and I am tired of it,” says the country mare. “For one, love, real love, is having the guts to go up to somepony and tell them that their behavior is wrong, and tolerating is disagreeing, but accepting that they are different. This nation was built on the harmony of ideas, but what I am seeing is the condemnation of ideas that point to a higher moral standard of living. If we can only provide the love of careless parents that let their foals do whatever the hay they want and tolerate only the ideas that agree with this moral anarchy, how much longer until tyranny moves in just so we can continue to live in the comfort of this pigsty?”

Minty's curious look instantly changes to much annoyance and she changes the channel, muttering about said mare being an 'obłudne Bicze'. Trixie has no idea what that means, but with the tone and expression she guesses it is not a friendly phrase, and with the channel changed, another pony comes on. This speaker is a stallion, and unlike the worked up mare, he sounds like he is in control of his emotions.

“-Revisionist history is the destruction of society,” claims the stallion. “It dumbs us down, makes us stupid to our own heritage and enacts what can safely be called a cultural genocide. For example, the Lunar Revolt. A survey taken said that ninety nine percent of the populace believes that it was about eternal night versus proper cycles. But in the Forbidden Archives, there are countless documents that say otherwise. Yes, eternal night and proper cycles were involved, but there was more to it. There was the expansion of power, there was economics, clashing philosophies, even race relations and struggles of regions and their ruling houses were involved. The heritage of these regions and their philosophies were distorted and destroyed, leaving only a hollow shell of their cultures and what the ruling elite, their messengers and servants want to teach us, and passing their truth as absolution. But then that leaves the question, which truth is the real truth and which one is a lie?”

“Oh, for Celestia's sake, is there anything good on?” says Minty, and once again she changes the channel. This time there is a familiar voice.

“Gooood evening, children, DJ-Pon3 here for some quick news and music! First off, last night somepony donned a costume and kicked the crap out of a gang of griffins-”

Minty instantly shuts off the radio. “Nope. Forget it. The radio sucks.”

“Hey Minty, can you turn the radio back on?” asks Trixie nervously a moment later. Minty looks at her and a few seconds of tense silence pass before Trixie nods towards the radio. “I just want to hear what DJ-Pon3 has to say.”

Minty sighs and it takes her sweet time to reluctantly turn the radio back on.

“-So whoever you are, I stand behind you, and anypony who is sick of the criminals running the show here would stand behind you too. And Bon Bon, rest in peace, we’ll miss you and your delicious candies. Now ho wants to hear some Three Barns Up?”

Minty turns off the radio again and Trixie looks down and her whole body sulks, what DJ-Pon3 said added to the guilt of failing to save Bon Bon.

“Don’t worry, Trixie, we’ll get to the bottom of Bon Bon's murder,” says Minty.

A few minutes of silent driving later, they pull up to the Fancy Entertainment parking lot, which is nearly filled to the brim with motorized wagons and a two wheeled vehicle that reminds Trixie of bulky, mechanical bicycles. The vehicle has thick wheels and little boiler engines in the belly of its main part. The back wheel looks like a thick tire, but the front is shaped like a ball, and it has a large light on the front and a couple of smaller ones on the back as well as a radio antennae. Also, from the looks of it, the pony lays down on it and sticks their forehooves in a couple of slots to control it. Minty is kind enough to tell her that they are another Flim-Flam Corporation product called “the bee”.

“The bee?” says Trixie as she looks at the strange vehicle.

“Yep, the bee,” says Minty. “Those things are all the rage with the greasers. I personally like mini-trains better. No one screws with a mini-train, and one wrong move with a bee and your corpse will be mopped off the road.”

Trixie grimaces. “Thanks for the visual.”

“No problem.”

Trixie and Minty walk inside and are immediately greeted by Penny Chart from behind her receptionist desk and a blast of cool air.

“Hey, Penny, Trixie here needs to check in,” says Minty.

“Okay,” sighs Penny Chart. She puts away some paperwork with heavy motions and looks at Trixie with an annoyed look. “Follow me.”

Trixie suddenly finds herself with cold hooves and looks at Minty nervously.

“I don't like her,” says Trixie.

“So? You don't like me and yet we still hang out,” says Minty.

“Well, you... you're... Can't you come with me?”

“No one besides employees is allowed beyond the desk,” says Penny Chart.

“Well, that answers your question,” says Minty. She pats Trixie on the shoulder and heads to the door. “Have a good day, Trixie. I'll be back in a few hours to pick you up.”

Trixie watches Minty leave, completely speechless, and when her parole officer is outside, she practically leaps inside Joe and almost burns out as she zooms out of the parking lot. Trixie does not know how to feel about that, but a big chunk of her is thinking that Minty was glad to abandon her here for a few hours to go on her date.

“Let's go, Trixie. You have to get clocked in,” says Penny Chart.

Trixie nods and follows Penny Chart to a smaller room that has a machine that looks like a box with a slot for a sheet of paper to go in. Connected to it is a clock, and next to the device is an area of the wall where slips of paper are tucked in neatly in their own slots, and each paper has someone’s name on it as well as little numbers on them to show when they arrived and left.

Penny Chart pushes a button on the ground and a fresh slip of paper pops out of the wall, next to Trixie. She then pulls it out with her mouth and scribbles Trixie’s name on it.

“This is your time sheet; you’ll need this to determine how much you get paid” explains Penny Chart. “If you forget to sign in or sign out it’ll be bad for you. If you forget to sign in, you don’t get paid for the hours worked, unless you can get somepony that is not on your team to vouch for your presence. If you forget to sign out, we’ll pay you for a full work day but without any of the overtime pay, even if you did work overtime.”

Trixie nods and Penny Chart puts the slip of paper in the slot of the machine, and it is sucked up and a horrible, screeching and shredding sound echoes in the room. Trixie cringes and her ears fold down in a feeble attempt to block out the noise.

“Don’t worry about that!” yells Penny Chart over the noise. “It shows that the Stamper is working!”

When the Stamper stomps, the slip pops out with a little ding and Penny Chart pulls it out and puts it in Trixie’s slot, labeled with her name and “505” next to it, and then they start heading towards Fancy Pants' offic.

“Fancy Pants told me to bring you to his office when you get checked in,” says Penny Chart.

Trixie once again nods, and when they reach the blandness that is Fancy Pants’ office, the old stallion is wearing a headset connected to a bulky communications device that is built into a cabinet of some kind with his back turned to the door.

“...It would be great to spend an evening with Rarity and her friends. There is that Pre-Gala at the Palace in a week so maybe we can catch them there,” says Fancy Pants.

Penny Chart clears her throat and when Fancypants turns around she says: “Trixie’s here.”

“Thank you, Penny Chart.”

Penny Chart leaves without another word and Fancy Pants turns back around while Trixie stands in the middle of the doorway, listening to his conversation and feeling dumb.

“Sorry, dear, an employee had a quick message,” says Fancy Pants. A few seconds later he chuckles and reclines in his seat. “Well, I can’t wait... Fleur, I have to go now... I love you, too... Bye.”

Fancy Pants hangs up and sighs with a content smile, but once he sees Trixie that smile instantly disappears and he leaps out of his chair.

“Trixie, what on earth did you do to yourself!” cries Fancy Pants.

“I, uh, punched a mirror and uh tried to do a back flip off my bed,” says Trixie while rubbing her bandaged hoof shamefully, which is thankfully covered by the frock.

Fancy Pants stares at Trixie, and she tries to smile innocently, but the beads of sweat rolling down her head are a dead give away she is lying. She knows that he knows that she is lying, too, just by the way he is staring at her.

“You’re a horrible liar,” says Fancy Pants.

Trixie looks down, ears drooping, and after making a claim that they will discuss the issue later, Fancy Pants orders her to follow him so she can meet her team. She quietly obeys and stays close to him as they travel to the loading area of the building where a large mini-train and a few chubby motorized wagons are waiting with ponies casually conversing amongst themselves as they wait to get their tasks. The group consists of eight ponies -four unicorns, two pegasi, and two earth ponies- and out of that group, there are only two stallions; a unicorn and a pegasus.

After Fancy Pants taps his hoof on the pavement, the group instantly halts their chatter and looks at him in sync. Their uniformed motion sends a chill up Trixie's spine, but she cannot leave because Fancy Pants has tugged her close so she is flush with his body.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, I would like you to meet your new team member, Trixie Lulamoon,” says Fancy Pants.

All eyes move on Trixie, and she lowers her eyes quickly and tries to back up, but Fancy Pants keeps his grip tight on her and he pulls her back in place, making her grunt in annoyance.

“Now, I expect you all to treat her with respect and train her appropriately for your line of work,” continues Fancy Pant. “And Hank.”

“Yeah,” says the male unicorn unenthusiastically. He has a gray coat with a short, sky blue mane and tail combed to give the bedhead look, and his cutie mark is a five point star with circles at the ends of each point, and for the life of Trixie, she cannot understand why he is giving her the stink eye.

“Since you are in charge I expect you to make sure she’s treated and trained properly got it?”

“Sure.”

“Good.”

Fancy Pants then nudges Trixie towards the group, and she cringes and droops her ears as she digs her hooves in the pavement, not liking the way Hank is trying to strangle her with his eyes. After Trixie is nearly hoof to hoof in front of Hank, she meets his scowl with a nervous smile while Fancy Pants lightly pats her on the back.

“Have fun, Trixie,” he says casually.

Then he disappears inside the building, making Trixie flinch when the door slams shut behind him. With Fancy Pants gone, Trixie swallows and shrinks down, looking at all the strange faces who have yet to blink.

“Okay, listen here, Trixie, I will not have any of your egotistical, ‘Great and Powerful’ bullshit here. Here, we are a pyramid unit, where I’m at the top, and Crispy Creme is my second layer,” says Hank.

“That I am!” says the male pegasus proudly while puffing out his chest and freshly preened feathers. He has a white coat with a red and blue mane and tail, and his cutie mark is a cake, and the mares are ogling at him because he just happens to be really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking. Even Trixie can't help but stare at him with a bit of lustful drool in her mouth.

Though, Hank regains Trixie's attention when his hoof takes up her whole face so she sees him pointing at the unicorn mares.

“Those three unicorns -Dusty, Starlight, and Opal- are the third layer of my pyramid. The fourth layer is made up of the other three,” says Hank, and then he points at the last three ponies. “And the two earth ponies are Cinder and Clover Field, and the pegasus is Clockwork.”

“So does that make me part of the fourth layer of your ‘pyramid’?” asks Trixie.

“Nope, you’re the new layer. Number five. Basically all of us get to boss you around. So if Clover Field wants you to pick flowers-”

“Oh that’s me!” giggles Clover Field; this earth pony has a dark green coat with a puffy, light green mane and tail and a clover as her cutie mark.

“You pick those flowers; and if Cinder wants you to burn those flowers, you burn them with a smile.”

Clover Field whines and looks down while Cinder glares at Hank, completely unamused by his horrible joke. She has a charcoal coat with white spots all over and her black and white mane and tail have a wild look to them. Her cutie mark just so happens to be a campfire, too.

“Got it?” says Hank

“Yeah, so what’s next?” says Trixie, trying to keep herself calm from the increasingly creepy field manager.

“We’re off to the Card Casino to help set up Monte Fountain’s show. We’re on a tight schedule, so no lollygagging, no trying to upstage anypony, and for the love of Celestia’s plot stay on the work site.”

Trixie grumbles an acknowledgment under her breath, and few minutes later the group piles into their respective vehicles and starts on their road trip to the Card Casino. Trixie shares on of the chubby motorized wagons with Clover Field, Cinder, and Clockwork. Clockwork has a clock as her cutie mark, and she has a sandy coat with a red braided mane. Unlike Cinder, who appears to hate life, and Clover Field, who won’t stop smiling, Clockwork seems content with the situation.

“So, how did you banish the Ursa Major?” asks Clover Field.

“Didn’t you hear that I didn’t do that?” says Trixie.

“So what did you banish?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even a chupacabre?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Oh, its this cute cuddly thing with these beady eyes and a cute face and you just want to hug it and snuggle it all day. Its cute!”

“Look, I didn't banish anything, especially cute things, so can we please drop it?”

“But the chupacabre...”

“I didn't banish a chupacabre! I didn't banish an Ursa! I didn't banish anything! It was a lie and that lie ruined my life, so shut up about the banishing crap and leave me alone!”

Clover Field looks down and sniffles while Cinder pats her on the shoulder, and Clockwork glares at Trixie.

“You know, you don't have to be rude about it,” says Clockwork.

“Easy for you to say,” says Trixie.

“Still, if you're going to be a jerk, you're going to have a hard time around here. We don't like jerks.”

“Good. That means I'll be left alone. Just the way I like it.”

“Fine then. Have fun being alone.”

“I will.”

Trixie then rests her head against the window and ignores the others for the rest of the trip, letting them have fun in their own little bubbles of blissful ignorance.

After about thirty minutes of driving through horrible traffic they reach the Card Casino. It towers four stories, has two large cards crossing over each other at the front door, and on the edges of the building are giant spotlights. Then there is the tower on the roof that reminds Trixie of a cigar, which adds another ten stories to the establishment. Not too far from the Card Casino is a walled off enclave of Slavic design with multiple towers surrounding a larger tower, and Trixie cannot help but notice a small group of griffins leaving the Casino to fly to the establishment, probably intoxicated judging from how they are flying and laughing idiotically.

The convoy pulls around the back of the Casino and stops in front of the loading area, and once they get out Hank calls Trixie over. Not wanting to make her bad start worse, she reluctantly approaches him with her head down to hide her frown.

“Yeah?” says Trixie.

Hank gives Trixie a blue hat with FE stitched in white as its design. “I forgot to give you your hat before we left. Wear it at all times and keep your horn covered.”

“What?” Trixie looks past Hank and sees the other unicorns have their horns exposed and wearing their hats like gangster wannabes. “What about them? Their horns are showing.”

“You cover your horn with your hat.”

“But it’s uncomfortable, and you’re not even wearing a hat!”

“You cover your horn with your hat.”

“But-”

Trixie is interrupted when Hank growls forces the hat on her head himself and purposefully shoves it down so her horn and a generous portion of her face is covered. Growling, Trixie adjusts her hat so that she is not blinded by hat fabric and so that Hank can see her smoldering orbs.

“Keep your horn covered and get back to work,” says Hank while walking away from Trixie.

“Aren't you supposed to train me, oh dear leader of mine?” says Trixie.

“You aren't worth my time. Tell Clockwork to train you.”

Trixie sticks her tongue out and then stomps back to the group she rode with. They are unloading some boxes and smile gratefully at her when she uses her magic to help them carrying the boxes out.

“Hey, Miss Moody,” says Clockwork while she scratches off items from her list. She is the only one wearing a hat out of the group.

“Hank says you have to train me,” says Trixie grumpily.

Clockwork rolls her eyes. “Oh, joy.” She sighs and looks around for a second before she points at a pile of boxes. “I guess you can start by taking the boxes to the backstage in the area marked with yellow tape.”

“And after that?”

“Take out the stuff. Sort them out and let the other guys handle the rest.”

Trixie sighs and sulks towards the stack of boxes, watching with a tiny bit of envy as Clover Field and Cinder exchange some laughs, each pulling a little wagon that is full of boxes. She looks at the boxes again and takes another breath before grabbing a good amount with her magic. After grabbing the boxes she follows Cinder and Clover Field to the backstage and places the boxes in the marked area, and when they go to get more, Cinder holds out her hoof, stopping Trixie.

“Why don't you stay here and unload? Me, Clover and Clockwork will bring the rest,” says Cinder.

Trixie's demeanor slouches with a huff. “Fine.”

The duo leave and Trixie takes a spot in the back and starts unloading the boxes. Her job would be a lot easier if the suppliers actually packed things in uniform, but each box is like a stocking stuffed by someone on high on drugs. Overpriced gimmicks are with napkins, fireworks are with light bulbs, mannequins are packed with fliers, and multi-colored cloth is sharing a box with various, brightly colored liquids.

It does not take long for Trixie's movements to become robotic and for time to blur around her. She does not hear the conversations or see the ponies around her. All she sees are the products, her piles, and the ponies who take the piles to do what ever it is they need to do with them. She barely realizes that someone is towering above her until she gets a very uneasy feeling up her spine. In response to that, she stops unpacking and looks to her side and sees Clockwork looking down at her.

They stare at each other for a few seconds in total silence, with Trixie confused as to why Clockwork is looking at her and the pegasus looking worried for some reason.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” asks Clockwork.

“Yeah. Why?” says Trixie.

“Well, I noticed the injuries you got and how you look like you're in a lot of pain, and I realized I was kind of a jerk back there since they were probably the reasons why you're moody.”

Trixie resumes unpacking in a shaky manner, completely silent and doing what she can to push down a lump in her throat and to keep her eyes from watering. Seconds later, Clockwork sits next to her and starts unpacking as well.

“You're new, here, right?” says Clockwork.

“I used to live here a long time ago, but everything is different, now," says Trixie.

Clover Field and Cinder appear out of the blue and start their unpacking, as well, and do a great job of ignoring Trixie when they greet Clockwork.

“Well, Trixie,” starts Clockwork after the greeting, “I know both of us got off on the wrong hoof back there, with you being crabby and me being crabby back, and you're newish here, so I think we need to start over. You look like you need a friend, so why don't you meet up with me, Clover, and Cinder at Donut Joe's for a bit?”

Clover Field and Cinder stop packing and talking and look at Clockwork, shocked and mouths clamped shut. Trixie looks at them nervously, then back at Clockwork, and then she resumes her work.

“I-I don't know. I can't really do stuff like that,” says Trixie.

“You can't hang out with us at Donut Joe's for some snacks and drinks?” says Clockwork.

“Hey, that's our special time!” says Clover.

“Yeah, besides she's rude,” says Cinder, looking right at Trixie.

Trixie swallows and turns her back to the group, her motions more shaky, the lump in her throat thicker, and eyes becoming wet as she unpacks and stacks the goods.

Clockwork, meanwhile, scolds them. “Really guys? We're all jailmares, and we were all rude to each other when we started this rehab program thing, so what makes her any different?”

“Well, for one, she's a unicorn,” starts Cinder.

“And two, I wasn't that bad,” says Clover. She points at Trixie. “She's just straight up mean, and look at her! She looks like she's part of a fight club, and what's the first rule of fight club? Don't talk about fight club. So, she's like a gladiator with secrets that will probably stab us if we look at her funny.”

"Actually, you were a pretty big bitch when we first met," says Clockwork.

Clover thinks for a moment. "...No~"

Clockwork frowns, but before another word can be said, Crispy lands in front of the group on top of a crate, specifically in front of Trixie. Trixie yelps and jumps back into Clockwork and puts her hoof to her chest to calm her racing heart. The others also flinch, but smile with hearts in their eyes when he flashes his toothy smile.

“Ladies,” says Crispy charismatically, “I just want to say you are doing a fantastic job. In fact, you’re all doing so good that if you can get this all taken care of within three hours I will treat you gals to dinner. How’s that sound?”

The girls all gasp and get eager smiles, and Trixie is particularly surprised by Cinder acting like an obsessive fangirl, but overall, she is not impressed with what is going on, so she blocks out the conversation and continues unpacking. A couple of minutes of flirting later and Crispy leaves with his grin even wider than before, and that is when someone more obnoxious than Crispy invades the scene.

“No! No! No no no no no no no no! No! What are you doing?” yells a stallion.

“Putting up the lights like you said, sir,” whimpers a mare while she shrinks away from him.

The pony that is yelling at her is none other than Monte Fountain himself, and he is wearing his show outfit and it looks as though he is ready to blow a gasket.

“I said red lights, these are green. You see the difference?” sneers Monte while holding up the color sheets for the lights. “This is red. Reeeeeed. And this is green. Greeeeeen.”

“But you said the green lights are supposed to be up front and the red in the back.”

“I said no such thing. You’re just an idiot. How am I supposed to-”

Monte sees Trixie staring at him and when he flashes a wicked smile her way while shoving the colored cards back to the mare that screwed up the former Great and Powerful quickly goes back to work.

“Oh-ho! I can't believe this! This is too good! Too, too good!” says Monte.

Monte hops on a crate and cranes his neck to look over the working ponies, and while Trixie tries valiantly to ignore him by focusing on unloading light bulbs, it proves to be in vain. She can feel his eyes on her and hear him shouting over the banging, sawing, and the other chaotic sounds of the work site nonstop.

“You there!” shouts Monte. “Hey! Hey you! You there! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, missy! Pony of opposite gender! Ma'am! Ma'am, missy, pony, individual! Hey hey hey! Hey, pony lady!”

Trixie's eye twitches and a glass bulb that has trusted her to protect it shatters in her aura, but neither Monte or anybody else notices.

Monte's horn glows and his voice overpowers the workplace as he yells: “Equus to the mare ignoring me! I demand your attention!”

Everyone stops and exchanges looks, except for Trixie. She has hunkered down even more in her fortress of light bulb boxes and is doing everything she can to not look at anybody. Clover, however, looks at Monte with a wide, eager smile and points at herself.

“Are you talking to me?” she asks.

Monte points behind her. “No, I’m talking to the one who looks like a pile of crap!”

Clover's ears droop with a disappointed frown and she looks at Trixie. “Oh. Trixie, he’s talking to you.”

“I'm not here,” says Trixie.

As soon as she finishes that sentence, she is covered in a tingly sensation all over her waist, and she yelps as she is plucked from her spot and dropped in a small throne straight out of a poker player's dream. After falling in the throne, Monte's front hooves go on top of Trixie's, pinning them to the arms of the throne and his massive grin takes up her whole vision and is close enough to where she can see herself reflecting off of his eyes. She can smell his minty mouthwash, his expensive cologne and his own body heat, and in a feeble attempt to escape, she shrinks in the seat, sweating and shaking.

“Hey, Trixie, do you remember me?” says Monte.

“No,” says Trixie as she squishes herself even further into the throne’s cushion.

“I didn’t think so. I don't bother remembering the names of those I upstaged, either. It's a nice little connection we have.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Monte puts his hoof over Trixie’s mouth and shushes her, and in turn, her eyes widen and her muscles tense up, and when Monte’s smile grows wider she starts trembling.

“Relax, you don't have to lie, anymore. I'm not mad at you, Miss Great and Powerful Trixie. You are still a ‘Miss’, right?”

Trixie nods her head quickly and Monte grins and hoof pumps.

“Yes,” he hisses quietly, and then he continues in his regular voice. “Okay, I’m going to need you to stay here for a moment while I grab Hank. Sit tight. I’m serious. Don’t. Move. From this spot. At all.”

Monte does a dramatic spin, his silky cape brushing against Trixie face, and after adjusting his hat he trots away screaming for Hank. Trixie shifts in her seat and a minute later, when she tries to move, Monte’s hoof goes over hers, making her scream and jump in her seat, and Monte slides into view with Hank standing behind him, grinning wildly.

“Found Hank, and he said I could borrow you for a minute,” says Monte.

Trixie looks at Hank nervously, but he is already walking away to do whatever it was he was doing earlier. Monte, in the meantime, uses his handy magic to tilt the chair so Trixie slides out, and he escorts her to the back of the audience area, apparently oblivious to her sulked and cautious demeanor.

The place they go to is brightly lit and has red carpet with casino game symbols stitched all over the floor in seemingly random locations, and the seats are all black with the tables being blue and each having their own little lamp. The back wall is lined up with booth that also have the little lights, and Trixie cannot see what the second story of the audience area holds, but is guessing that it holds more tables judging from the decorative lamps poking above the railing. When Trixie sits in one of the booths, the seat lets out a wheezing noise and she feels some air brush against her coat as it escapes from the chair. She looks at her spot quizzically while Monte coolly slides next to her.

“So, Miss Trixie, I noticed you look a little,” Monte waves his hoof around to point and the difference bruises and scratches on Trixie’s body, “crappy. The frock looks nice, though.”

Trixie scowls and moves away from him. “Thanks.”

Monte chuckles, slides closer to Trixie, and levitates both of their hats off and sets them down on the table. "You're welcome. How about some drinks?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Too bad."

Then he whistles at a colt wearing a vest that is walking by. When the colt approaches their table, Trixie is baffled to see that it is none other than Pipsqueak.

“Oh, how do you do, ma’am?” says Pipsqueak politely.

Before she can reply, Monte butts in.

“She’s fantastic. Give me and Trixie some of that Dr. Dew soda that you foals love so much,” he says.

“On the rocks?” says Pipsqueak.

“With the umbrellas.”

“Limes?”

“Of course.”

“Got it.”

After Pipsqueak walks off, Monte smiles at Trixie. “Anyway, it is so nice to see the pony who upstaged me and my brother in town face to face again after so many years. Its like a nostalgic overload!”

Trixie looks down and bites her lip, but Monte chuckles and pats her shoulder, getting her to tense and slide away from him, eying him uneasily.

“Relax, like I said, I’m not mad,” he says. “If anything, I’m grateful for what you did since after you upstaged me I found all my flaws, purged them and became famous. But you? Wow, you fell clean off the map just when I was about ready to offer you a partnership, and I was sad. And now here you are! Right in my casino, in front of me, like a dirty jewel just begging to cleaned and pampered and ready to shine for the world again. It’s like Celestia has personally delivered me a gift in a golden box with a gem studded bow... thing.”

Trixie frowns. “That was stupid.”

“You just don't appreciate poetry. So are you interested?”

“In what?”

“A partnership. What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Trixie, we both know you want all that fame and fortune back. You want to be respected and loved again, just like the good old days, and I can help you get back on track. Better pay, better benefits, shows on a biweekly basis with an income so sturdy you can build a freaking mansion made out of gold if you wanted to! So, whaddya say? A little teamwork between you and me and you get your life back. Sounds good, yeah?”

Trixie narrows her eyes and Monte's cocky smile becomes more forced and anxious.

“Just say yes,” says Monte through his pearly white teeth.

“You said I looked like crap earlier,” says Trixie.

“Well, you do.”

Trixie scoffs in disgust, and she leaves the table in an instant and starts her march back to her coworkers, ignoring Monte's call. But when she hears glasses tip, drinks spill, and a table shake, she looks over her shoulder and stares at Monte with eyes big enough to see the smoke inside her fried brain as the magician runs over his table, leaps towards her and slides to a halt next to her. She takes a step back, nose wrinkled and ears splayed back when he steps in front of her, smiling broadly and fueled by nothing less of the finest desperation anxiety and self-doubt can conjure.

“Wait wait wait, Trixie, hold on just a second and hear me out, okay?” says Monte.

And then comes silence.

And more silence.

And even more silence.

And a stallion coughing awkwardly somewhere out of Trixie's line of sight to go with the massive amount of silence coming between the two ace magicians.

“Well?” says Trixie.

“You got a talent, Trixie. An amazing talent with magic and wooing crowds and making shows fun without looking like a bimbo,” says Monte. “I mean, you had that flashy cape, that cute third pony talk, and holy crap can you make dreams with that body and those eyes of yours.”

Trixie's eye twitches with an uncomfortable feeling bubbling in her gut and rising to her throat, and she takes a step back from Monte, even though every strand of her muscles have tightened.

“But you had this thing with your shows that we all loved,” says Monte. “We need that back. The magic industry needs you back because in your fifteen minutes of fame you have left an impact that not even I have been able to top. So, what do you say? You want to jump back in the ring and have another crack at magic shows?”

“No,” says Trixie instantly.

Monte's smile remains, but his ears droop. “What?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! You'll get lots of money, and fame and respect and ponies adoring you again! That's what you want, right?”

“No, I don't want that, and besides, you just want me so you can get better sales because you suck as a magician and you think reintroducing an old star like me will help. Well, joke's on you, buddy. I'm through with magic. I'm through with the spotlight. I just want to live my life without the bullshit of fame.”

Trixie starts walking and Monte calls her again and yanks on her shoulder. What he gets as a reward is Trixie yelping and her hoof colliding with his face with enough power to drop him to the floor. Like a flipped switch, everything stops and all eyes fall on Trixie, and even though her heart is racing at a million beats a minute and her body is shaking, she realizes she just made a blunder.

A very, very big blunder.

Trixie barely moves her eyes to see Monte laying on the floor, shifting and holding his face, and groaning in pain. She taps his hindquarters with her back hoof, and is relieved to hear him respond with a longer groan.

“Monte, can you get up?” asks Trixie.

“I can't feel my face,” moans Monte.

Hank then starts storming to Trixie, glaring the fires of all the rings of Tartarus and the other Hells of every alternate dimension in the known universe and beyond, and Trixie gulps and shrinks back, eyes huge and ears about ready to fall off from how far they have drooped. She knows the rest of her day is going to suck, now.

Author's Notes:

Edited on 19 Sep 2015