TERRIBLE THAUMATURGIC TWO-TONE DISEASE TERRORIZES TRAUMATIZED TROTTINGHAM!
After speculation, it has been confirmed that Trottingham has indeed been struck with an outbreak of the dreaded Two-Tone disease. Though the disease is not directly lethal to its victims, its primary symptom of complete color-blindness can cause severe depression and erratic behaviour in those afflicted. Though quarantine methods have proven effective in preventing new cases, a call for aid has been issued to the Night Court. An official statement released by the government says they intend to send relief aid in the form of doctors, alchemists and supplies for mass brewing and distribution of the cure as soon as vital ingredients and personnel can be gathered from Neigh Orleans and Canterlot.

Galeb, a robin blue Zebrony with a navy blue stripes and an aquamarine mane, looked at the newspaper that had been dropped in front of him. He looked at the paper for a solid minute before gazing up at his brother sitting across the table.

“Whatever you’re planning Bantu, I want no part in this.” Galeb said, pushing the paper away.

“Just hear me out.”

“I don’t have to,” Galeb replied. “You might be able to read others but I can read you. And just by the look on your face I can already tell I’m not going to like how this story is turning out.”

“Just listen, this idea will set us for life.”

Galeb suppressed a groan. “Brother, don’t you think it’s time to ease up on these schemes of yours?”

The honey brown zebrony’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Excuse me?”

“You have been taking dumber risks lately and they haven’t really been paying off.”

“So I’ve had a few set backs, no big deal.”

Galeb turned round and looked his brother head on. “No big deal? You’ve been banned from three bars and four neighbourhoods. Your sales license in the bazaar has been revoked and you’re one misdemeanour away from being permanently banned. You have at least two griffons out for your blood, which considering they’re carnivores is really not a good place to be and you never even asked what the Bayou Krewe had me do in order to work off your debt to them.”

“Hey! I returned the favour on that one.”

“Setting me up on a date does not count as returning the favour.”

“Well it would have if you had managed to seal the deal.”

“The point is that these lofty aspirations of yours are doing more harm than good.” Galeb continued.

“At least I have aspirations,” Bantu shot back. “Is this really how you want to live the rest of your life? Pottering away on your little projects here in grandmeres shop? With your talent you could be the next Voodoo King but instead you are wasting your talents.”

“I’m wasting my talents?” Galeb scoffed. “If you actually applied yourself you could be just as good as me at voodoo, maybe even better. Instead you spend your time on cons and schemes.”

“At least I’m getting somewhere.” Bantu replied. “You are exactly where you have always been. Living in Grandmeres shop, dabbling in your experiments, in your little corner.”

Galeb let out an angry snort. “I am making decent money with my stall in the bazaar. Pretty soon I’ll have enough to afford a place of my own.”

“You only have that stall because I sweet talked Erzulie into letting you have it.”

Galeb rolled his eyes, no one ‘sweet talks’ Erzulie into anything. But he will admit that Bantu had gotten him a decent deal for it.

Bantu decided to lighten his approach. “Come on brother, I need you on this. I’m good and you’re decent but together we’re unstoppable.”

“Like a freight train off a cliff,” Galeb commented dryly. After a moment of silence he let out a sigh. “Alright fine, I'm listening. Why exactly is a disease in Trottingham an opportunity?"

"Because, it means that if there is an outbreak, they are going to need doctors and alchemists and huge quantities of the cure."

Galeb let out a snort. "So you want to sell them the cure? Good luck with that. Even if you were good enough at making it, there's no way you'll be able to afford the ingredients. Penance Bark alone is worth a small fortune. That's not even taking into account that the crown has sole buying rights to some of those ingredients. And I am not about to become a snake oil seller."

"Exactly, the government is sitting on a princess’s ransom worth of ingredients, stocked away in case of emergencies like this in vaults in Canterlot."

"So?"

"So, it takes at least two days to get from Canterlot to Trottingham. The Two-Tone Cure is only useable up to four hours after it's been made. Meaning that they need to take the raw ingredients to Trottingham and then mix the cure on site. My friend in the station told me that a notice has been sent out to all the stations, making them reschedule their trains so that several of their trains are rerouted next week, so a train from Canterlot can have a clear track all the way to Trottingham. But a bunch of the more common ingredients are getting shipped from right here in Neigh Orleans."

"So a train carrying expensive ingredients will be leaving in a few days. Unless you were planning on robbing the train how is any of this information useful?” Galeb noticed the pointed silence that hung in the air. "Come on Bantu, you cannot be serious."

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity," Bantu replied to his brother. "Just think what we could do with the ingredients that train will be carrying."

"What I can't stop thinking about is that you're talking about robbing a train meant to be carrying relief supplies." Galeb shot back.

"We'll leave most of it," Bantu argued. "We'll be sure to make that they discover the robbery not too far from Canterlot. The train gets resupplied in no time, the relief supplies go where they need to and we both score big time. Everyone wins."

"Except us if this goes wrong," Galeb said. "Sorry Bantu, but I can't be a part of this."

Bantu threw up his hooves in dismay. "Fine then."

At that the older stallion started to leave.

“Where are you going?” Galeb asked.

“If you want to let opportunity pass you by that’s your choice.” Bantu shot back. “But this is my chance to make it big and I’m taking it, with or without you.”

Shocked, Galeb could only stand there as he watched his brother walk away.

Tin Whistle resisted the urge to let out a sigh of boredom. Despite being the conductor in charge of the train that would eventually be carrying relief supplies to an area in need, the Neigh Orleans part of the journey was pretty much like any other train stop, and a particularly boring one at that. Still, it was his duty to ensure that everything ran smoothly.

With that said, when he decided to leave his home to be a train conductor, he had hoped his occupation would offer the occasional break in the monotony.

As if answering his request, he was brought out of his thoughts when a zebrony appeared in his periphery vision. He was honey brown with a teal mane, roan brown stripes and was busy pulling a large crate on wheels towards one of the luggage cars. Tin Whistle straightened his hat before he began his approach. Once he was in range of the other pony he cleared his throat loudly.

“Ahem!”

The striped equine looked up at Tin Whistle.

“Can I help you?” the conductor asked.

“No no, I can load this crate myself,” The zebrony replied as he continued to pull the crate. “It’s not as heavy as it looks.”

The zebrony’s progress was halted when Tin Whistle stepped in front of him.

“I believe you have the wrong train.”

“This is the train headed for Trottingham, isn’t it? I’ve got to get this loaded into the mail car.” The zebrony pointedly tapped on the crate.

Tin Whistle raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“The mail cart’s already been loaded.”

“Yeah but there was a mix-up and this got loaded on the wrong train by mistake.” the zebrony explained. “It almost ended up getting sent to Detrot.”

“Well, unless you have a clearance form from the station master, I can’t let that onto the train.”

“Of course,” the zebrony pulled out a yellowish piece of paper which he then gave to Tin Whistle. “Here you are.”

The conductor looked over the piece of paper and then once he was satisfied he gave it back.

“Alright then. Let’s get this loaded on.”

Any response the zebrony was about to give was stopped by the sound of a wagon being pushed across the platform. As they looked they saw a mare pushing a cart of various food items across the platform. At the sight of the mare, Tin Whistle stood straighter and puffed his chest out slightly.

“Good day, Miss Tulip,” he called out with a tip of the hat.

“And to you, Tin Whistle.” Miss Tulip called back.

Once she was further along the platform, Tin Whistle returned his attention to the zebrony, who was now wearing a knowing little grin.

“You know, I could take care of this myself if you would rather go have a little chat with Miss Tulip.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s obvious you like her so why don’t you go have a talk with her before departing. There’s still time.”

Tin Whistle looked at the big clock on the platform, There was actually time before he had to do the boarding call and he had all his other jobs finished. After some deliberation he shook his head.

“No, that would be highly unprofessional, besides even if I did like her how do I know she would even be interested in somepony like me?”

“Well she did remember your name,” the zebrony replied.

“Excuse me?” Tin Whistle asked.

“I don’t know Miss Tulip but I know of her,” zebrony explained. “She is horrendous at remembering any pony’s names, she barely remembers the names of her siblings. If she’s remembered your name, it’s because she’s either made the effort or you made enough of an impression. Either of those is promising.”

The conductor looked in the direction of Miss Tulip and bit his lip slightly. The zebrony gave him playful nudge.

“Come on,” he said. “Don’t be so quick to derail this train before it has a chance to leave the station.”

Tin Whistle turned back to the zebrony. “The mail car’s the last one before the caboose. If you have any issues loading it, ask one of the porters to help you.”

The two then separated. Bantu in the direction of mail car, Tin Whistle in direction of Miss Tulip.

Bantu was able to get the crate loaded and secure in the mail car with little difficulty. Just as he finished, the door connecting the mail car to the caboose opened up to reveal a stern and portly stallion.

“Oi! What are you doing here?” He demanded.

Bantu took on an air of professional detachment. “That’s funny, I was going to ask you the same question, this is a restricted access area.”

“The name’s Pufferbelly.” The pony replied. “I work the caboose. Who the blue blazes are you?”

“I’m Red Tape,” Bantu replied. “I work for the Equestrian Postal Service as part of Internal Affairs.”

“Internal Affairs?”

“That’s what I said. We had a tip that some of the local post ponies have been using postal cars as a means of smuggling contraband. I have been asked to discreetly inspect all mail cars that stop here in Neigh Orleans.” Bantu gave the yellow piece of paper to Pufferbelly. “Here is my warrant, granting me access to any mail car in this station.”

Pufferbelly looked over the piece of paper before giving it back. “I wasn’t told about any inspection.”

“That was intentional,” Bantu explained. “There has been doubt cast on the source of our intel. Not enough to dismiss it but enough that we want further proof before formally charging anypony. Notifying ponies of the inspection could tip off any guilty party or get innocent workers caught in the crossfire.” Bantu gave Pufferbelly a hard look. “Can I count on your discretion?”

Pufferbelly let out a disapproving huff. “This is a waste of time. I know every mail pony that works the lines and they’re all honest hard working ponies.”

“You’re probably right but I still need to investigate, if only to prove their innocence. I only need about 10 minutes of privacy to scan through to mail car then I’ll move on.”

Pufferbelly sized up the zebrony before turning to leave. “I need to go run final checks on the caboose before we leave. Don’t be here when I get back.”

Bantu maintained his profession demeanour right until the door of the mail car closed and he was alone. He glanced down at that the yellow paper before reading it. It was actually mostly blank with a few magic symbols on it. He may not be as versatile with voodoo as his brother was but if there was one trick he was particularly good at, it was spell paper.

He opened a false panel on the side of the crate and climbed inside. Once he was inside and comfortable he pulled out a small vial filled with potion. While hiding out in a crate in the mail car was the best way to avoid detection it did have a few setbacks, namely trying to make the whole trip to Canterlot without food, water, bathroom breaks or even the ability to properly stretch his legs. Luckily he had managed to get a good deal on a decent hibernation potion.

He had enough measured out so it would knock him out for the duration of the trip from Neigh Orleans to Canterlot, meaning he would be able to hide out in the crate with no difficulty and then wake up in time to get the job done. He downed the contents of the vial and then lay down as it started to take effect.

As he drifted into unconsciousness he spared a final thought to how rich he was going to be when all this was over.