Golden Age Comics, Issue 2: Wednesday's Child

[Blueblood]

Well... technically, by law, Patty Cake may most certainly be so bold, and Quill Pusher was obliged to answer.  Whether or not Pagemaster was so obliged was a legal hair even this bureaucrat was disinclined to split at the moment.  "We wish to return a foalnapped filly to her parents."  He answered simply, as the doors were thrown open before him.  "I trust you will give us every assistance?"

 

If Masquerade's buzzing was to be believed, he most certainly could not trust.  He wasn't going to regard that currently, though.  Right now, he sifts through the piles of merchant receipt copies, confident that if any funny business was going on, his companions had his back.

[Kirby Krackle]

“A missing foal? How dreadful! Yes, of course I'll help! In any way I can!”

 

Perhaps that was a little overdramatic, but hey, at least Patty Cake was being cooperative now.

 

“But honeykins, I don't think that-”. So cooperative was she, that she was also quick to stop the objections of her husband before they even began. Though perhaps she could have been a little more gentle while shoving a hoof in his mouth. Tinker Tailor grumbled, but not for very long. He took the hint and settled down.

 

“Please, you'll want to come into the Playroom as well. Here, I'll lead the way”, she added. The Playroom being through another door, which was unlocked by the soft glow of her horn. The security device in question was a massive hunk of iron, full of wires and leylines, all leading to a single crystal in the center. It was certainly a busy machine, looking like it should be sealing up doors in a prison rather than a toy store. And speaking of contrast, the hallway which lead to the playroom was somehow even more saccharine than the rest of the building.

 

Toys of all kinds littered the rainbow striped carpet. Stuffed animals had to be stepped over, wind-up carriages had to be dodged as they zipped passed the Unicorn, Stack-O block projects were only partially completed and their leftovers were scattered all over the place. Elaborate paintings of clowns and parties and other cheerful scenes were hung on every other wall. Not a single color to be seen wasn't bright and pastel and clashing with everything else. And the same forty second piece was playing from a music box from somewhere on loop. Over and over and over. 'Playroom' seemed like a misnomer. To Pagemaster, it was chaos. Horrible horrible chaos.

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

“You'll have to forgive the mess”, she said with a grin. "We've had to move most of our backlog in here. You would not believe how desperate Hubby and I are for storage space!”

 

~

 

Upon discovering that she was caught, the sneak in question could be heard crashing into a garbage can from panic. Attempting to regain her footing and run only made things worse, knocking over several of them and causing one heck of a racket.

 

Underneath the refuse meanwhile, sat a tiny filly rubbing her bruised noggin. Just what was Cherry Top doing all the way out here?!

 

~

 

This team, if you could really call it that, hasn't been together for very long. While it's true they don't have the cohesion that a more seasoned task force would, they have given eachother nothing but their utmost trust. So the Captain and the Princess could rest easy in knowing that the Masquerade would be out at the first sign of danger. Though, the two of them have been in there a while...

[RazorWind]

The clattering of the garbage can immediately signaled that whoever was back here with him was not particular good at being stealthy... leading Dusty to think the still unseen entity was some random passerby or potentially a thug getting themselves into something too big for them.

 

Of course those ideas went out the window the moment the face of Cherry Top came into view.. the understandably frightened and startled filly looking completely uncoordinated. 

 

"What in the hay-?" Dusty mutters as Twin Iron returns to his shoulder; the powerful stallion leaning down to help set the small one aright. "Now ah ain't one to go questionin another'a business, but ah reckon this'd be an exception. Just what in the hay are ya doin' out here, kid? Yer lucky ah didn't swing fer the fences just then..." 

[Blueblood]

That was a sudden switch.  Of course, perhaps it might be explained by the fact that toyshop owners would have an affinity for foals, more than for pushy heroes or bureaucrats.  In any case, it was pretty clear who wore the pants in this house, so to speak.  He followed her deliberately, taking note of the details as he passed.

 

Well, trying to.  The decor hurt his eyes; if one of his bureaucratic subordinates had decorated their offices like this, he'd have rung for a psychologist.  "That," He pointed to one particularly looming poster of a clown, "Would have absolutely terrified me as a colt.  I suppose your average customer is made of sterner stuff?"  It was both an attempt at small talk, and also to somehow get at some other clue about their odd behavior.