Queen of Hearts Chapter 7

Chapter 7

>Your fingers begin to shake, like leaves in the wind.
>The shake crawls up to your palm, then to your wrist.
>You look away in mild annoyance, stopping the shaking with your other hand.
>This was odd.
>You never got nervous before.
>Then again, you never had such crowd before you.
>… And expectations…
>You glance over the crimson wall that separated you from the anticipating crowd, the curtain.
>Usually, you’d be down with them, passing out petty tricks.
>Your trail your fingertips over the smooth grooves of the yellow metal, as if trying to remember every detail of it.
>Two holes were there to hold your wrists, each respective side having an extendable opening.
>The handcuff then led to a large mechanism, and the only detail you could notice is the five keys that serve as the unlock code.
>You repeat the code over and over in your mind, inscribing it on your brain.
>Now, you don’t want to go out there and find yourself forgetting it.
>That would be plain unprofessional.
>Speaking of which…
>A set- you mean- sets- of fireworks go off on the stage, followed by some spectacle.
>Simple ‘oooh’s and ‘aaaah’s.
>Cheap.
>Trixie is in her usual gout of self-empowerment, making half-subtle lashings against you.
>Make that obvious.
>Her rant goes on for a while, will she please do her trick and leave?
>Of course not.
>Presentation, presentation, presentation.
>You can feed anyone complete shit, if you dress it up nice enough.
>Kinda like fast food, back home.
>Or any of the expensive restaurants, for the matter.
>Moving aside from that, you turn your head to see- surprise, surprise- more light show and pictures.
>Which of course, was followed up with that annoying third-person narrative.
>You sigh and slide down your chair, your vest going up slightly.
>You get up, and begin to pace back and forth.
>Not going to mess this up, nope, will do just fine.
>You finally hear the applause coming from the crowd, just in time for you to catch your last breath.
>You turn to the stationed worker, and give him the sign.
>He nods and begins to push a small frame, about as tall as you.
>Crimson curtains covered each side, ready to provide you with the solitude you’ll need later.
>You clear your lungs and step out.
>A round of applause comes to you, as you make your way to the center.
>You stop, and turn to the crowd- and the blinding spotlight.
>You make a simple bow at the audience, and to the item behind you.
>Taking note of the stares at the small room behind you, you start off.

>Fleur repositioned herself on the cushion, the strain of sitting still getting to her.
>She was more accustomed to a more… appealing style.
>She watched silently, observing the entertainer on the stage.
>Would she be in that position, she wondered.
>Perhaps, were conditions different.
>But no time to mope, her attention quickly centered upon the odd creature on the stage.
>Like always, he was in his black suit, with his red tie.
>He looked over the audience, who stared back eagerly at him.
>No matter the stakes, he will always be an entertainer.
>The show itself was, in fact, just another night of amusement for the dinner party.
>Tables were arranged around the stage, about five ponies dressing its round sides.
>Dinner was served upon the tables, heavily removing the weight of the show for the two performers above.

“Good evening, mares and gentlecolts, as you are all familiar, I am called Anonymous.”
>You straighten yourself, and put up a hand towards the object behind you.
“I’m quite sure you are all wondering what this is. Well-“ You clear your throat. “This is a curtain, from which I will be performing inside.”
>You can easily read the confusion between the audiences.
“But for out act, I will be attempting an escape. An escape no pony thought possible before.”
>It was you cue.
>The same worker brings out a cart, and upon it, the handcuff.
>You lift it up, and show it to the audience.
>It is quite heavy, your arms tremble at it weight.
“As you can see, it is quite large. Filled to the brim with mechanical trinkets, I assure you. And-“
>You drop it onto the stage, managing to break the wooden bottom.
>The cuff sinks slightly, angled awkwardly at you.
“Well, that was unnecessary, but it is- as you see- impervious to damage.”
>You take a hammer placed on the cart and slam it upon the machinery.
>The head of the hammer breaks off, landing somewhere behind you.
“Oh, blasted hammer.”
>This elicits a small laugh from the audience.
“It is also impervious to magic.”
>You barely manage to pick the object up, and place it on the cart again.
>Your eyes begin to wander over the audience, hoping to find a suitable unicorn to help you out.
>Then you look up to the balconies, and a certain pony grabs your attention.
“Princess Celestia! How nice of you to join us.”
>Everypony in the room turns their gazes above, spotting their beloved leader.
>They cheer and clap once again.
>Celestia smiles and waves.
>Hopefully she doesn’t mind helping.
“Since you are with us today, would you be kind enough to give us a little demonstration?”
>”Oh? And what would that be?
“In lieu to my presentation just now, would you do us all a favor and strike this machinery with your magic?”
>”I certainly can.”
>Celestia quickly fires off a beam of lighting at the cuff, but it simply dissipates.
>Everypony gasps, and you, not missing a beat, jump in.
“Yessir, this bit of prison here is completely immune to magic, not allowing unicorns to try and break out! Minotaurs’ fingers are just too stubby, and don’t even get me started on the diamond dogs.”
>Another laugh.
“But me.” You put up your hands. “I have the digits, the slim build, and most importantly, the dedication.”
>You waggle your fingers, as if drumming an invisible wall in front of you.
>You smile.
“And to prove this show is completely legitimate, I am willing to have this machine tested, once I am done.”
>A round of applause.
“And now,” You take off your suit jacket. “I shall escape from these cuffs, only with a knife.”
>You set your wrists on the machinery, and it quickly locks in.
>You can hear the gears and the levers whirring to life, going to their position.
>You take a deep breath and lift your hands, straining your muscles once more.
“Now, I shall go behind these curtains, and escape- under- an hour. Timer?”
>A brown pony with an hourglass cutiemark brings out his watch.
>With a nod, he clocks the trinket he is holding.
>You quickly retreat into the curtains, only to poke out once more and say;
“Enjoy your meal.”
>You sit on the provided stool, and take out a knife from your breast pocket.
>The vest made it slightly harder, but it is there for a purpose.
>You hear the clank of the fine china outside, looks like Fancy Pants got your hint.
>Trixie was the appetizer.
>You are the main course, dessert, and the drinks after.
>Biting hard to the knife handle, you hunch over the machinery.
>Hours, countless hours of work on this infernal device.
>And now, for screw number three…

http://youtu.be/5_LxyhCJpsM
>… And that is for the screw number four.
>You gently lift the front lid, not wanting to damage the insides.
>You quickly eye over the gears in place.
>You put up the blueprint that came with the box.
>Your eyes dart back and forth, slowly matching the image and the object.
>You have only a few days to get this straight.
>Next to the workings upon the table, lay a notepad.
>You scribbled notes on the device on it.
>’Four screws on the front lid. Must be removed in clockwise direction.’
>You slowly wedge the knife between the gears, and give a soft tug.
>You quickly pull it back out, not wanting to lose the knife.
>The gears roll on, showing no sign of stopping.
>A bead of cold sweat rolls down your forehead, as you wait for the window.
>One, two, three, one, two, three…
>One- two- thr-
>Now!

>You stab the knife on the spot, still clenching down on the handle.
>The jammed machine begins to twitch, wanting to go on.
>With a quick snap of your neck, you break the knife off.

“That’s… one and a four.” You mutter, as you mark the length on your knife.
>You trace the mark to form a line across the knife, signaling how deep you should go.
>Once marked, you take another knife, and begin to saw on the designated spot.
>You have to thin it out, just enough for it to be sturdy to stop the gears, and weak enough for you to break.
>You get your right amount after your fifth knife.
>Wiping the sweat on your face, you return to grinding the final knife…

>The knife gives off no resistance, coming with a clean snap.
>Your racing heart calms down a bit; and you quickly move on to your next part…

>You glance over the blueprint again.
>Two strings hold the hydraulics on either side of the machine.
>And that will be layer one.
>Taking the broken knife, you barely fit it through the hole between the golden wall and a gear.
>And just carefully, you begin to move the knife up and down, sawing through the string.
>It suddenly snaps, retreating into a metal cylinder.
>You now have fifteen seconds.
>You quickly force the knife out, and move on to the next string.
>However, before you can cut through, the metal cylinder on the edge extends over the string.
>Your knife is forced out.
>You turn your gaze to the cut string, only to see a new line appearing with magic.
>You should’ve known.
>Magic.
>You curse silently and wait for the cylinder to open up.
>Overall, it took twenty minutes to open up again.
>By then, you planned out the entire escape.
>Maybe you need to thin out the sides of the knife…

>A quickly glance to the wall of the hole proves your trial.
>You see countless scratches, all made by the same knife.
>As soon as you hear a snap, you reel out, and plunge the knife into the second hole.
>A satisfying snap rings out again.
>And there we go- the second layer.
>One by one, you force the gears out with your knife, effectively disassembling it.
>You are now facing a mirror.

>’Under these renewing glass, lies five pressure points.’
>You scribble madly.
>’And four blind spots.’
>Taking the broken tip of the knife, you begin to test every inch of the glass.
>You got the first one after the tenth poke.
>You continue, careful not to drop anything onto the hyper-sensitive glass.

>You breathe over the surface, coating it with a fine layer of white.
>Tiny bumps appear over the glossy surface.
>You smile and begin to chafe away at the bumps.
>And once you’re done, you reel back, and bring the tip down on the glass.
>Cracks begin to form, following the pattern of the four bumps.
>It shatters away, revealing you the final layer of the puzzle.
>Time to take a breather.

>You whistle, and the pony stationed outside peeks through the curtain.
>He is suddenly pulled back, and you hear Trixie’s shouts.
>After a few minutes of checking, Trixie lets the pony through.
>She is rather bothersome, isn’t she?
>You never called out on her bullshit in her show.
>Placing that aside, you nod at the pony, who has returned from a full-body check on the pony.
>Poor guy.
>Without a word, he lifts the lid on the floor and puts it on the cuff.
>He puts the screws back- as instructed- counter-clockwise.
>You step out of the curtain, the weight certainly lesser on your wrists.
“Excuse me, but it is getting rather hot in there, but can I have somepony take this waistcoat off me?”
>A waiter comes up the stage to help, only to be stopped by Trixie.
>Bam. Right out of nowhere.
>”This is part of his plan! The great and powerful Trixie knows this is a ruse! The waiter is going to help him escape!” She shrieks.
>All expected.
“Very well then, can I at least have the knife in my breast pocket?”
>The waiter comes up again, only to be stopped again by Trixie.
>”Don’t. Even. Try. It.”
>You shrug with what arm you have left, with an indifferent expression.
“Fine, I’ll do it myself then.”
>You reach into your shirt pocket, and pull out the spare knife.
>You won’t need it anymore, so proceed with plan.
>You begin cutting through the fabric on your shoulders, slowly unhinging the vest.
>With a little shake on your part (including the noise ‘BRRRRRR’) you shrug it off your torso.
>The act is worth it, you gain some laughs and applause.
>Stepping out of the vest, you ‘accidentally’ drop the knife.
>It lands with a thud.
>The crowd goes deathly silent, with everyone’s eyes on the knife.
“Oh well, I suppose I have to use my tongue.” You shrug once again.
>Another round of an acknowledging laugh.
>You step back into the curtains; and return to unhinging the screws.
>Clockwise, clockwise.
>Speaking of time-
>And we are at the final layer.
>The back side of the code input, five digits and in view to you.
>Several mechanisms hold it in place and other functions to boot, but you’re not here to crack those.

>Looking over the code, you decide to take the easy way out.
>Hey, if they never know, it still works, right?
>With the two layers of locking mechanism out, you can access the special part of this show.
>The code change.
>’KEYES’, was it?

>You begin to roll the digits from the other side.
>Matching the tiny digits front and back, you begin to spell out KEYES.
>You spot bar pull back, signifying the unlock.
>The once powerful grip on your wrists are now nothing but a limp piece of curved metal.
>With your hands free, you immediately get to changing a code.
>The instruction said of a button…
>There it is.
>You give it a push.
>The machinery begins to whirr again.
>You quickly put in the new code, and press the button again.
>Now since that is done, you leave the device unlocked as it is, and return to re-assembling the handcuff.
>You take out a watch out of your pocket to check the time.
>Fifteen minutes to spare.
>A single tap on the pressure point of the second layer reforms the glass.
>You put the first layer over it, setting the gears all over again.
>Magic makes everything better.
>Once the pieces are all set, you put your wrists back on the cuff again.
>The cuff weakly holds over you, just what you need.
>Time to end this.
>You whistle again, calling out to the same pony.
>He looks through, and you smile.
>He lifts the cuff and your wrists up with his magic, making sure to keep the opening side closed.
>You face the crowd once more, all looking up expectantly at you.
>You look around, keeping a calm look on your face.
“Did you enjoy your meals?” You ask sheepishly. “And do you think I am successful?”
>You fake a bit of defeat in your voice.
>The band on the side begins the drum roll, building up the expectation.
>Your face begins to fall, and shushed gasps of doubt go through the crowd.

>Fleur slowly rose from her seat, reading Anon’s expression.
>The drum roll picked in volume and speed.
>And as it peaked, a flash of joy glowed on his face.
>In a single, powerful sweep upwards, he freed his wrists.

>You force your wrists up, the weak link barely giving resistance.
>Your hands go free, and cool air rushes past your hands.
>The lights go off in the background, and the crowd cheers.
>You close your eyes and bask in your victory, applause still coming at you from the crowd.
>You sigh once, glad that the problem is over.
>But the act still goes on…
>”Attention, attention! Trixie has something to announce!” The show mare is back.
>She enters the stage, coming to your left and the cart.
>”Trixie is here to announce- this show is a fraud!” She points at you.
>Going with the flow, you feign confusion.
“Trixie dear, what on earth do you mean?”
>She takes a sharp turn at you, her venomous eyes fixated on you.
>”Don’t play a fool! The great and powerful Trixie knows ALL of your ruse!”
>A round of gasps erupts from the crowd.
“Is that so? Why don’t you prove it?”
>Trixie gladly goes off to the cart, not forgetting to pass a huff at you.
>You follow her, and lift the cuff.
>Taking it on the sides with your hands, you make sure the code inputs are pointed at you.
>With a simple flick of your thumb, you quickly change the code.
>With a sheepish smile, you lower the device to Trixie’s height, low enough so that she may place her hooves on the cuffs.
“Please, do demonstrate.” You offer with a condescending smile.
>Of course, this gets her just more.
>She grits her teeth, and with a look of determination on her face, she drops her hooves.
>Locking the mechanism in place, you turn to Trixie.
“Now, will you tell us how I escaped so easily?”
>”Easy! You simply put on the code!”
>You nod slowly.
>”Now, the great and powerful Trixie shall recite the code, and you shall enter them.”
“Alright, shoot.”
>She takes a deep breath, and goes.
>”K.”
“K.”
>”E.”
“E.”
>”Y.”
“Y.”
>”E.”
“E.”
>”S.”
“S.”
>You put the final code in place, and step back.
>The drum roll goes off again.
>And as it peaks once more, you find your heart racing again.
>Trixie shoots a victorious grin, and lifts her hooves-
>Only to have it stuck fast.
>Her eyes widen is shock, and she tries again.
>The entire room is deathly silent.
>”Wh-what? Trixie cannot comprehend!”
“Riiight.”
>Taking the cue, Fancy Pants comes up to the stage, and takes your side.
>”Now, which of the two performers were the best?”
>He gestures at Trixie.
>Minor applause goes off.
>Fancy Pants then gestures at you.
>More claps ensue, and you find yourself smiling.
>Ponies begin to stand from their seats, and the clapping goes louder.
>You smirk and bow multiple times to show your appreciation.
>”I’ll say- it was quite lengthy, but a great performance you have pulled! I can safely say, Anonymous is the victor!”
>Cheers roar from the crowd.
>Trixie continues to struggle on the cuffs, desperately trying to figure out the code.
>You, on the other hand, savor the sweet, sweet taste of victory.
>And for that moment, everything is perfect.

>The failed magician stumbled in the dark room, still trying to crack the code.
>Several ponies were there to help her out, each with their own guess.
>It was mostly trial and error anyway.
>After three hours of trying, all but one is tired and sick.
>As the last pony slowly turned the digit to his next guess, everyone hears the click of the lock.
>Trixie’s face lights up again, only to sink far down once she sees the code.
>And upon the metal inscriptions, read one word.
>Five letters, arranged into the final nail on the coffin.
>’FRAUD’.