Stolen Scooters, Stolen Friendships

[psycozombie]

((Nowhere near finished, but I wanted to get opinions on how it's flowing so far before I finish it off.))

Mag's purple fedora sat perched over his eyes as he leaned in his swivel chair, not quite sleeping, but not quite awake. The blue dots staining his cigarette flashed with every lungful of poison joke the pony huffed in, cyan smoke trailing up from the blazing tip. His reddish-brown fur was softly illuminated by the glowing ember, the color of new rust.

There was a knock at his door. Quickly, a tall dog laying beside the door, dressed in a purple vest, leaped to his feet. He was lanky and long, his legs making sweeping motions as he pulled aside the shutters, and opened the door, letting the pony in. Despite her attempts to hide the fact with a pair of large horseshoes, the pony was minuscule, trotting in, only to trip on her own dress. The purple-haired little filly fell out, the horseshoes toppling away from her. Mag smirked.

"Scootaloo. This isn't the place for little ponies like you, y'know." The tan-coated filly shook herself, glaring at Mag.

"I -am not- a little pony!" Scootaloo huffed, causing Mag to grin. The diamond dog who had answered the door smirked, going back to his cot, and laying down with a newspaper, unfolding it.

"Alright, Ms. Big Filly. What're you in my shop for?" Scootaloo huffed, frowning at Mag.

"I want you to catch the colt who keeps stealing my scooter!"

Mag snuffed his blue-spotted cigarette out on his hoof, standing up, and hopping off the chair.

"Aw, some little schoolcolt keep picking on you?" Scootaloo scoffed.

"No! It's just that he keeps doing it just to mess with me!" Mag frowned, rubbing his chin with his forehoof.

"And what makes you think he's just messing with you? Do you even -know- who he is?" Scootaloo stared at Mag, cocking her head to the side.

"If I knew, I wouldn't need you! Look, I can pay you."

Mag laughed, grinning. "Oh, I don't think there's any amount you could pay that could convince me to go after some little-"

"A hundred and fifty bits." Mag stopped, staring down at Scootaloo, blinking.

"...So, where do you keep your scooter?"



Mag's hooves made soft clops on the paved street outside his shop as he stepped out into the shining sun, adjusting his hat on his head. The diamond dog assistant followed close behind, locking the door behind them as Scootaloo led them out. The little filly cocked an eyebrow at the security.

"Why do you..." Mag stopped her with a hand, lighting up a new cigarette.

"See, me, I lived in Fillydelphia 'fore I came here. In my neighborhood, you locked your doors or you got your bits stolen. Rufus-" Mag jabbed a hoof at the diamond dog as he finished locking the door, "-Well, he was raised in the mines outside Ponyville. Runt of the litter." Scootaloo looked up at the supremely tall Rufus, who smiled down at her.

"...Obviously!" Scootaloo said. Mag chuckled.

"That meant he got a lot of food taken as a kid, and he learned to hide it. I finally managed to convince him to stop hiding everything he has and start locking the door, and he's done it since."

"But you don't really have to worry about that, here in Ponyville!"
Mag took a long drag, smirking. "I know. Still, old habits die hard." Scootaloo frowned, trotting off, with Mag and Rufus following behind.



"There he is!" Scootaloo pointed a hoof forward as they neared the tree where she had laid her scooter, which was currently being carried off by a masked pony, dressed in a black shawl, which covered his mouth, back, and cutie mark. Upon seeing them, the colt blinked, and took off running, huffing, dropping the scooter in the process. Mag snorted, spitting his cigarette into the ground, and galloping after him. Scootaloo tried as well, but Rufus held her back, shaking his shaggy head.

Mag huffed heavily through his snout, chasing the Masked Colt, shouting at him. Shouldering trash cans and benches as he went, the masked colt panted, trying to keep away from the dashing detective. Mag leaped over the obstacles knocked in his way, nearly catching up, his teeth nearly closing down on the colt's tail...

A fruit cart happened between the two, led by a thick, red pony with a harness. Mag's face crashed into it as the masked colt got away, dashing off down an alleyway. Big Macintosh frowned, looking his head around the cart as Mag's fedora floated like a feather down over the detective's eyes. "Uh, ya alright, there?"

Mag waved his hoof indiscriminately, sighing. "Yeah. I'm fine." He leaned up, looking over the cart as the last trails of the Masked Colt's cape flew down the alley.

((Alright! Once again, nowhere near finished, but feel free to give any criticisms needed.))

[jasontech]

nicely done! my only real issue is "hand" should be a hoof... but YEAH this is great keep it up!