The Black Hoof: A Mafia Story

by patridam

Mrs. Sandmare

Mrs. Sandmare, bring me a colt,
Please make him handsome, and fast as a bolt.
Give him the word that I'm not an old cob,
Then tell him that he makes a young mare’s heart throb.
Sandmare, I'm so alone,
Don't have nopony to call my own.
Please turn on your magic beam,
Mrs. Sandmare, bring me a dream.

Mrs. Sandmare, bring who I dream,
Give him the strength of a whole stagecoach team.
Give him a tender heart, like a cowpony,
None of the rudeness of a Canterlot phony.
Sandmare, someone to love,
Please oh please with all the above.
So just turn on your magic beam,
Mrs. Sandmare bring me a dream.

- The Pony Tones

Spike couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He'd hoped turning on the radio would calm his nerves, and maybe even make the mares in the Platinum's wide back seat liven up a little. After he'd picked them up the white unicorn mare had politely asked him to head west, out of the city; but neither had said a word since then. It wasn't especially unusual to go that distance, he'd taken ponies all the way to Las Pallas, but just "west" wasn't exactly a destination one heard too often. It was also unusual for anyone - let alone mares like these, that is, mafiosos - to load their own luggage, but they had insisted he stay in the car. No, it was the silence that really worried him.

He wasn't concerned by the fact they were in with the mob, which was pretty obvious by their choice of clothing. He'd had to get used to it, since the bread and butter of a chauffeur in Los Relinchos was ferrying them around. There were even more now that the Horseshoe Hotel had bought out a controlling interest in the limo agency. He'd found that most of the stereotypes weren't spot on, though. Most were fairly nice to him, nicer than some tourists and businessmen, even. He'd even driven these very two mares around before, though not both at the same time. The white mare in the double-breasted suit, whom he remembered was named Rarity (he'd briefly toyed with the idea of asking her out), always struck him as very polite and proper, but rather cold and distant. The blue pegasus in the floral shirt, on the other hand, had always been incredibly gregarious and friendly, if a little boastful (incidentally, he'd had no trouble remembering that her name was Rainbow Dash - it was kind of on-the-nose, not that a dragon named Spike was in a position to point it out).

But as the big blue sedan glided across the two lane road, delving further into the desert, neither mare seemed especially interested in talking or even listening. Despite his attempts to strike up a conversation, Rarity had simply kept starting intently out the window at the empty landscape punctuated by cacti. Dash - as she'd asked him to call her before - was using her wing to fiddle with her power window control, continuously making it slide up and down. He'd considered telling her that she was letting the refrigerated air out, but something had obviously got both of the mares worried. That was when he decided to switch on the radio, and "Mrs. Sandmare" came out of the two speakers in tinny glory.

Once the song finished, Rarity stirred. She put her hoof up against the window, and said "Darling, would you please pull over to the side of the road up here. Near the rock."

Spike did as he was asked. The sedan sat at the side of the road, about twenty yards from a big boulder about 10 feet in diameter. "What would you like for me to do, ma'am?" asked Spike.

"Oh, nothing, Dash and I will handle everything. You just.. keep an eye out, would you?" Spike nodded, though he didn't like where this was going.

"I'll dig if you carry" said Dash, directed at Rarity.

"Deal."

Spike tried to concern himself with the radio as the two mares got out and trotted to the back of the car. "Hey kid, could you pop the trunk?" asked Dash from the back. He did so, and then caught a glimpse of what the two had loaded into it before. A big Saddle Arabian rug, neatly rolled but nonetheless rather lumpy in the middle. Rarity levitated it as the two mares walked over to behind the rock.

Twenty minutes later, the two came back out, sans rug. Dash's front hooves were rather dirty, and she carried her expensive looking shoes in her mouth by the strings. The two got back into the seat, looking somewhat relieved. "Alright dear, back to the city. The Horseshoe Hotel & Casino, if you would."

He turned the car around in a wide U turn across the road, and set back from whence they had came. He was relieved, too. He wasn't stupid, it was rather obvious what they just did, but his worst fear was that they'd driven out here to bury him, so even this was better. He eased in for a lengthy trip back, figuring it'd be night by the time they returned to the city.

He was surprised when, within five minutes, another car appeared on the horizon. When it got close enough for him to see it was a violet Chancellor B490 coupe, he heard a quiet whisper of "Oh horseapples" from Dash. He briefly turned his head to see that both Rarity and Dash had ducked down beneath the windows. The car passed by, and they both let out a breath of relief. Spike then heard a tremendous squeal of tires, and as he looked back he saw the car making an abrupt U-turn.

As it began to follow the Platinum, he heard Dash whisper "Hey kid, do you think we'd be able to outrun that car?". Spike took pride in his Platinum Princess, being the only chauffeur to actually own what he drove for the agency, but even he had to admit it was most definitely not capable of outrunning a B490. He told Dash so.

"Well then, if she doesn't try to kill you, pretend we aren't here," said Rarity, curling up even further in the rear foot well. Dash did the same. If Spike was nervous before, he was downright terrified now. The Chancellor easily overtook them, pulling in front of him and then slowing down. When both cars were stopped, Spike saw the other car contained no less than five ponies. That is, until the driver stepped out.

The light blue unicorn dropped her cigarette to the ground, stomping out with a black leather loafer before walking over to Spike's window.

"You. Name?" asked the unicorn.

"Spike."

"Alright Spork, the Great and Powerful Trixie needs to know if you've seen any other cars heading west," said Trixie.

"Whaa? Who's the Great and Pow..."

"Did. You. See. Another. Car" said Trixie, growing curt.

"I.. umm.. no, not a one." replied Spike. Dragons didn't sweat like ponies did, so he hoped she wouldn't catch how nervous he was.

Trixie levitated a large chrome-plated revolver from her suit jacket, and started polishing it nonchalantly. "What about a pair of mares, a white unicorn and a blue pegasus?" she asked.

Spike swallowed and rasped out "No."

She let the pistol hang there, and, looking at Spike; no, looking through him; said "You sure?"

He nodded.

She stared out along the car's tail fin, off into the desert beyond. After a few seconds of contemplation, she turned back and said, with a twinge of sarcasm, "Trixie thanks you for your... help." She turned back and trotted to the door of the Chancellor, shaking her head at the other ponies inside. "Trixie told you they would've gone the other way. I don't know why I even listen to you." She got in and the car took off, showering the Platinum in a spray of pebbles and sand.

When the car was out of sight, the two mares in back emerged from hiding, Rarity making an exaggerated gasp as if she had been underwater for too long.

"What the hell was that about?" asked Spike as he started the car and pulled back onto the road.

Rarity obliged. "You see, that... rug we buried, it was rather important to Trixie. She isn't one to...

"Oh can it, Rarity," interrupted Dash. "Unless this guy is as dumb as rock, he's figured out we ain't gone out to the middle of the desert to bury a carpet."

"Dash! We have to be discerning in who we trust; that's how we got into this mess in the first place." She quickly said to Spike "No offense to you, of course."

Dash ignored her,. "You see kid, we let somebody into our crew who wasn't quite on the level. She was you might call a double-agent, spying on us for another family. We found out, and Celestia - that's our boss - ordered us to beat her up a bit, send a message to them. You know."

"And then Dash shot her in the face," groaned Rarity, evidently giving up on secrecy.

"For the last time, it was an accident! The car hit a bump and the gun just went off! I was as surprised as you were."

"Oh yes, I do recall you being rather surprised when you said 'I just shot Peachy in the face'. Next time, don't keep your hoof on the trigger."

"Uh, yeah, I screwed up. We called you out to pick us up since Rarity's car was just a little teensy bit covered in blood," Dash said to Spike.

"Oh, dear, I'd almost forgot. I might as well get a new car now, that'll never come out... and I expect you to pay to replace Twilight's rug."

"What? The rug was your idea!"

"It's your fault we needed it!"

"Fine, fine. But we're going to explain this to Celestia together." Dash directed her attention back to Spike, who remained silent. "Anyway, Peachy was really one of Luna's goons, which is why shooting her isn't something to be taken lightly. Spying ain't exactly against the terms of the truce, but killing each other certainly is. Trixie, being Luna's capo, must've caught wind of Peachy's disappearance and gone on the lookout for us."

Spike finally spoke. "Why does she talk like that, calling herself great and powerful?"

"Narcissism is a hell of a drug," replied Rarity, making a none-too subtle glance towards Dash in the seat beside her.

Dash didn't even notice. "Anyway kid, thanks. You stayed cool in a tough situation. We could use somepon.... eh, someone like you. But first Rarity and I gotta sort this mess out with the big cheese."

They all settled down for the ride back to Los Relinchos. Spike turned the radio back up, some upbeat big band keeping things pleasant as night began to fall across the vast desert. It was dark when the car finally rumbled over the potholes on Freehoof Street, signifying their return to civilization. Spike turned the corner at the Golden Apple Gambling Hall, noting another letter had burned out so the rooftop neon sign read "Go den Ap e Ga bling Hall." Places like that were quickly being replaced by the all-inclusive resorts springing up like weeds along the boulevard. The cylindrical skyscraper in the middle of downtown stood to their right, the huge sign reading "Cadenza Records" seeming to float in midair above the darkened building. Soon they left downtown behind for the numerous casinos along Los Relinchos Boulevard. The Lotus Lounge and Casino, splendid with green and purple neon, was first up on the right. Spike had never been there, but he heard the donkeys that ran the place put out quite the buffet. On the left was the Final Frontier Desert Resort, with white neon outlines of stars on a blunt dark blue facade. Next door to it was a new construction site proclaiming it to be the new home of a new casino, The Sultan. The oldest hotel on the boulevard, Del Huerto Relinchos, stood low beyond that, with minimal neon on its rustic structure; but that was not his destination.

Instead he turned right into the semicircular drive of the Horseshoe Hotel & Casino. In the center of the U shaped drive was a fountain with the water dyed pink, surrounded by lush plants that would never have survived in this climate before. A wide porch followed the outside of the drive, behind which lay the one story building. A newly minted hotel tower stood high above the low body of the casino, topped with a giant pink neon horseshoe. Purple neon cursive announced the resort's name from the 14th (actually the 13th, but you know superstitions) floor. The car glided to a stop before the plate glass doors leading into the marble-clad lobby.

The two mares exited the back seat. Rarity trotted off into the building without another word, while Dash came up to Spike's window. "Here, kid, take this," she said as she took a card from her pocket with her mouth and deposited it in Spike's claw. "You tell him that Dash sent you, and he'll line you up with some work. You do good enough, maybe you might end up like me." She thought for a moment. "Well, probably not, but you can hope, right? Anyway, I think you got the guts and the discretion for this business, but you can keep on doing what you're doing and forget this ever happened. The one thing you ain't gonna do is tell anyone about it, capiche?"

"Of course, ma'aam."

"Like I said kid, call me Dash," she said, patting him so hard on the back he coughed out a little smoke. "See you round, Spike."

Spike contemplated things as she walked away. He'd gotten used to being around mob mares over the last year in this gig, but he'd never considered working with them. The voice of Sister Sunny Rays echoed in his head: "Don't go gettin' involved with the black hoof son, work like that corrupts the soul. They'll use your skills and toss you out when you get caught." Of course, she was a nun at the orphanage, so it was her job to keep fillies, colts, and in Spike's case, baby dragons, out of trouble. She'd also been the one to bless him with the name "Spike T. Dragon" where, T stood for "The". He glanced down at the business card.

F. RICH & DAUGHTER
AUTO SALES, SERVICE, & ACQUISITION
3800 HONESTY AVENUE
LOS RELINCHOS, EQUESTRIA
MW-4960
OPEN 7 DAYS PER WEEK 8 AM TO 8 PM

A car dealership was hardly the illicit enterprise he had expected. In fact, he remembered buying the Platinum at the very same dealership. Well, he didn't buy it precisely, more like 'arranged financing for it'. That just brought up more questions for him. What would a car dealership need someone "discreet" for? He figured the only way to find out was to go and talk to this F. Rich and see what he was offering. If he didn't like it, he always had the option to refuse.

Hey hey kids, this is DJ Vinyl Scratch on PEPP, Los Relinchos' home of rock and roll. Now, it's time for the news. You remember that Appaloosa senator we talked about yesterday, making a fuss up in Canterlot? Well, after a 24 hour filibuster Senator Silverstar nearly collapsed from exhaustion and hunger, allowing the passage of the Non-Pony Rights Bill. This bill disallows businesses and schools to segregate against the zebras, dragons, mules and the like. Not everypony was in agreement about the bill's passage, but word is Vice President Jet Set offered an olive branch of sorts by giving a Canterlot Chew candy bar to the famished Silverstar. In local news, construction workers finally broke ground on the new Sultan Casino, which is expected to open by spring of next year. Now, back to the music.

Comments

[spearblade]

Intersting this a pretty good story only consern/Question is what *** dose that mean other than that its a good story

[Hard-Pressed Scribe]

A definite considerable quality of writing. Quite the rare thing in new or up-coming writers. Most normally, you'd find sloppily written HiE fics or maybe a crossover made by new authors. I predict good things in your writing future, Patridam. However, I would recommend you recruit some advisers and perhaps a proof-reader.

[11111111]

I love it. It just needs to be revised for grammatical and spelling errors.