• Published 18th Oct 2014
  • 1,123 Views, 24 Comments

The Black Hoof: A Mafia Story - patridam



Spike was just a chauffeur before being swept up by the mafia underworld. The glitz and glamour of the city promise him the good life, provided he can endure the harsh realities of the criminal underworld without a bullet to the temple.

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Dear Mares & Kindly Stallions

I love those dear mares, and kindly stallions,
Who live in my home town.
Because those dear mares, and kindly stallions,
They never ever wear a frown.

They munch on cupcakes,
And harvest apples.
That's how their weekend goes.
I've got a dream house,
I'll have there someday,
With a roof of thatch and timber walls.
I feel so happy, each time that I return,
Since a party's thrown to welcome me.
I love the dear mares and kindly stallions,
Who sing and hug in my home town.

- F. Shyy & The Farriers

Honesty Avenue was home to most of Los Relinchos' car dealerships, an irony which was not lost on Spike. Evidently whomever had named the city's streets was either very optimistic or had a sense of humor. He'd asked for the day off, and as he waited at the intersection of Honesty Avenue and Kindness Street, he wondered if he was wasting his time. Car dealers struck him as sleazy, sure, but he hadn't considered that they would be in cahoots with the black hoof. The Platinum glided forward when the light turned green, and Spike flipped up a chrome lever for the turn signal. He pulled into the parking lot outside F. Rich Auto Sales. He'd been here a year ago, but things had changed quite a bit since then.

The lot was no longer full of Platinum cars, instead, it was now full of new Starswirl sedans, coupes, and convertibles for sale. Even the Platinum logo painted on the building (a silver and purple crown, matching the hood ornament on Spike's car) was hastily covered up with a banner depicting the Starswirl logo, a stylized six-pointed star inside of a crescent. He'd heard that the Platinum Motor Company wasn't doing particularly well, but that dealerships would be so fickle as to abandon ship like this was surprising. He stopped in a space close to the building, a white tile-clad affair with large windows looking into a granite-clad showroom.

He made a beeline for the reception desk, making it halfway across the room before a tall cream-colored unicorn with red and white hair stood in his way, smiling an incredibly broad grin down at him. "Well heellllloooo there sir, how can I help you on this fine day?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm just here to see Mr. Rich," replied Spike, trying to push past him.

"Indeed! A stall... dragon of importance such as you must be then, and one of fine taste as well! The name's Flam, and I'm glad to make your acquaintance. I couldn't help but notice you're driving a Platinum Princess."

"Well, yes, but I'm not inter..."

"Let me tell you something, uh.. what was your name again?"

"Spike, but like I'm trying to say..."

"Look here, Spike; a Platinum's a fine car, finest car in Equestria a mere year ago. A perfect car for getting somewhere, but what I have here is a car that's for when you've arrived," Flam said as he dragged Spike over to a black coupe. "This here's a Starswirl Supreme, the perfect car, if I do say so myself. The power of 300 earth pony stallions under the hood, three speed automatic, leather seats, and a hoof-made body. It's a little steep, at 10,000 bits, but you simply can't beat it."

Spike prepared to speak again and be interrupted again when a female voice erupted from behind him. "Flam, this one's mine! This is my up! You can't go stealing other ponies sales!" Spike turned around to see a pink earth pony with purple and white hair yelling at Flam.

"That zebra didn't count, Diamond Tiara! Filthy had to authorize it himself; I didn't see a bit," said Flam. Spike saw his opportunity to sneak away while the two argued, and he almost made it without being noticed.

Flam called out to Spike "But you haven't even heard the song yet!" but Spike was already at the reception desk. Flam turned back to Diamond Tiara, saying "Now look what you did, you lost a sale for the both of us!"

The silver earth pony mare at the reception desk lowered the newspaper she was reading. She straightened up and smiled, but it wasn't a fake smile like Flam's. The name tag on her blouse read 'Silver Spoon'. She was cute, perhaps a little younger than him, although Spike himself was barely old enough to drink.

"How can I help you today, sir?" she said pleasantly.

"I'm here to speak with Filthy Rich. He's supposed to have some work for me," said Spike.

"Oh, of course," she picked up her phone and hit 1 on the keypad. As it rang, she asked "Who shall I say is here to see him?"

"Spike T. Dragon, but I've been sent here by Rainbow Dash."

"Mr. Rich, sir, there's someone here to see you. A Spike T. Dragon." Some grumbling emanated from the phone. "Sir, he's been sent for work by a Rainbow Dash." The phone exploded in jovial recognition. Even Spike could make out the pony on the other end saying "Send him in, send him in!"

Silver Spoon laid down the receiver and said, "Alright, his office is just at the end of the hall on the left. A word of advice, though, call him Rich. He hates being called Filthy." Spike nodded and walked down the hall to Rich's office. He opened the door slowly.

"Come in, my boy. Sit on down!" said the brown earth pony with a slicked back mane. "A friend of Dash is a friend of mine!" Spike sat down in a plush lounge chair, sinking down so far that Rich towered over him behind his large desk.

"I was told you might have some work for me."

"Indeed. Now, it might not be precisely easy work, or what you're used to; but I promise the pay is quite handsome. Almost as handsome as me!" said Filthy Rich with a guffaw. "Now, as I understand it, you currently have loans outstanding with us here, to pay for your Platinum Princess?"

"Yes, I've been paying them back on time though."

"Of course, no doubt in my mind. You seem to be a responsible young pon... dragon. But how does this sound: you do a few things for me, and that debt disappears. Do anything else beyond that, and you'll receive appropriate compensation."

"I'm listening."

"Well, as most of our customers don't have the bits necessary to buy a car outright, they finance with us. If they keep up with their payments, like you have, everything is fine and dandy. But some can't or won't pay us our dues, so we have no choice but to repossess their car. We have three such cases at the moment, and there are always more."

"Why do you give loans to people who won't pay it back?"

"Two of these cases, it seemed they'd have no trouble paying it back. But one of them lost their job, and another got injured. They couldn't make the payments anymore. Those should be easy for you."

"If they're so easy, why do you need me? Is this illegal or something?"

"Good question, sport. Well, you have to hot-wire the cars to take them back unless you somehow get the keys from the defaulter - unlikely. Look at these here hooves; does it look like I, or any other earth pony for that matter, could hot-wire a car? I'd have Flam do it, but he ran away last time after an old mare started hitting with an umbrella. Great salesman, but a coward if there ever was one. And, no, taking the cars is perfectly legal, though the trespassing sometimes necessary to take them... well, lets just say, it's not exactly legal but it's not explicitly illegal, either."

"Am I going to be hit with an umbrella, too?"

"Odds point to no. The first too, like I said, should be easy. The injured stallion is still in the hospital, and the unemployed mare is unlikely to put up much of a fight, unless you count crocodile tears."

"What about the third?"

"Oh, yeah. That might be slightly less safe. You see, a zebra came in here yesterday and put 2,000 bits down on a new Supreme. It isn't company policy to sell to zebras, but with that I made an exception. Problem is, on her loan paperwork she put an empty lot as her address, and forged credit references from a bank that's never heard of her. We're pretty certain she isn't going to be paying the remaining 8,000 bits, well, ever. Unfortunately, by the time I figured it out she and the car were long gone."

"It's against company policy to sell to zebras?"

"Uh, er, well not my policy mind you, but Starswirl's . I have absolutely nothing against zebras, or for that matter, dragons," said Rich, nervously pulling at his collar. "Anyway, it's not dangerous because she's a zebra, but because she's the leader of a crew of hoodlums. We actually found out about the bar she frequents through Celestia's police contact. When I heard about that, I asked if she knew someone who'd want to help, and she said she'd give word to her associates. This is how you came in, I presume."

"Okay, I get it. Bring the three cars back here in once piece, be absolved of my debt. Anything else?"

Rich reached into a desk drawer. "Well, here's some lock-picks and a screwdriver. You'll need them, but if you're actually in danger don't hesitate to break a window. And here's a little guide to hot-wiring the boys in the service department put together. It's not really hard, just some wire crossing that requires telekinesis or opposable claws. It should be much the same for all three cars, and any other domestics for that matter. Silver Spoon can give you the addresses."

Spike bid a polite goodbye and stopped again at reception. Silver Spoon slid him a piece of paper. "Here are the addresses. I've already called a cab for you. Please, do be careful." Spike smiled and walked out, missing the small wave she gave to him as he left. The taxi picked him up, and he gave the address for the first car; a bronze Platinum Aristocrat coupe purchased by a pegasus by the name of Soarin'. He was laid up at Los Relinchos General after a wing injury, so this one would be easy. He was dropped off at a yellow suburban ranch house done up in a pseudo-western rustic style. He tipped the cab driver generously, and told him to wait for him back at the car dealership.

The neighborhood was empty, since it was midday. The big bronze coupe sat placidly in the middle of the driveway. He walked up to the car, and pulled out the lock picks. After a few tries he got the driver's door to open. He plopped down on the gold leather seat, and opened up the hot-wiring guide on the passenger seat. It was actually rather simple. He used the screwdriver to open up the panel under the dashboard, used his pocketknife to strip a few wires, crossed the red and yellow ones; and bam, the V8 rumbled to life. He screwed the panel back into place, closed the door, and put everything back into his pocket. Soon enough the car was delivered back to the dealership, where an earth pony in overalls took it off his claws to prepare for sale as a "certified pre-owned" car.

Next was a yellow Starswirl Supernova owned by a mare named Cherry Berry. The cab let him off at a two-story apartment building encircled with balconies. He gave another tip, and one last request to return to the dealership. He obliged quite happily - sitting in the car was easy work. Spike looked in the parking lot for the car, and spotted it easily. Banana yellow was not precisely a common color of car, and Starswirls were rather flamboyant to begin with. It was in the row closest to the side of the building, sitting directly beneath a second floor balcony ringed with a wrought iron railing. Spike got to work.

He'd just finished unlocking the door when a pink and yellow mare walked out onto the balcony above. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Spike about to climb into the car, and he figured she must be Cherry Berry. She immediately ran back inside her apartment, and Spike got to hot-wiring as fast as he could. This one was a little harder, but soon enough the engine roared and he stuck the car in gear. As he pulled out of the spot, he saw Cherry Berry running towards him from the left, eyes filled with tears, shouting something that sounded like "Damned canned vegetables put me out of business!" Spike turned right and squealed the tires accelerating out of the parking lot, leaving the mare to plop down on her haunches and contemplate what she had (or hadn't) done to deserve this.

All that was left was the black Starswirl Supreme. The paperwork said that the zebra that bought it was named Zecora, though since she'd lied about financing and her address, who knew if that was even her real name. Or, at least Rich had told him that she had lied about that stuff, who knows, he could be the one lying. That made Spike rather uneasy, the feeling that he wasn't able to trust anyone, no matter how polite or forthright they seemed. The cabby dropped Spike off across the street from the address (added onto the file in red pen, since the original was crossed out many times over). It turned out to be a bar in a none-too safe part of town. Even the driver expressed a noticeable unease at where he was letting Spike off. He handed the last of the money Rich had given him to the driver, and thanked him for all of the help. The taxi groaned away, and Spike took appraisal of the situation.

The bar was full of various zebras drinking and laughing. There was a fenced in side yard next to it, with an open gate wide enough for a car to fit through. Past it he could just spot the headlight and grille of the Supreme, sitting in the middle of the lot. There was one problem, though. A zebra in a bomber jacket stood in the middle of the gateway, rocking back and forth. Zecora was smart enough to have somebody protect her 10,000 bit car, from both car thieves and repossessors (not that here was much of a difference).

Spike decided he'd have to be stealthy to even attempt this. He walked around the back of the building and scrambled over the fence into the yard. The zebra was still looking out towards the road, but she was blocking the only exit. Spike crouched and sneaked over to the the driver's door of the car. He quietly got to work with the lock picks - this one was harder, with six tumblers instead of four, but soon enough it clicked open. Spike would've sworn the click was loud enough for the whole world to hear, but the zebra didn't turn around. Apparently the music coming from inside the bar was enough to make him unnoticeable, though that wouldn't last.

He got to work on the hotwiring. No different then before. He tensed up before he crossed the final wires. Doing so would start the engine and definitely alert the the zebra on guard, and then what would he do? He could turn back right now, and just go back to being a chauffeur. No harm, not foul. He sat there thinking about it. He sat too long.

The zebra yawned and must have glimpsed something amiss out of the corner of her eye. She turned around and her eyes widened when she saw a dumbstruck purple and green dragon sitting in her boss's car.

She shouted: "Hey, hey, it is unknown to you, what you are trying to do, motherfucker!"
Spike's decision was made for him. He crossed the wires. The engine roared with the sound of gunfire and the radio blared to life, playing a jovial big band song from F. Shyy: "Dear Mares & Kindly Stallions". Spike stomped on the gas, spinning the tires and propelling the big black coupe forward. The zebra reached into her jacket pocket for her gun.

She never had a chance.

There was a loud WHUMP upon impact and the zebra just disappeared beneath the front bumper as the car exited the parking lot. Spike drove away as fast as possible, since there's no way the zebras inside missed that... that horrible noise. He hyperventilated; had he just killed someone? He ran over someone, a mare he'd never know, who'd never done anything against him. Well, that wasn't quite true, he thought to himself. She was going for a gun, she'd have killed him. He was just protecting himself, right? He ended up justifying his actions to himself, but that didn't really make him feel any better about it.

About twenty minutes later he pulled into the back lot of Rich's Auto Sales. He figured he needn't show off what he presumed to be a dented and probably bloodied front bumper to the customers and employees of the dealership - especially that Silver Spoon. Rich himself happened to be on a smoke break out back, and he stepped forward to greet Spike when he pulled up. Then he stopped in his tracks, seeing the front of the car. Spike hopped out and walked over to him.

"I.. ran into a little trouble with the last one," he tried to explain.

"I can, uh... see that, son," said Rich. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be that much trouble. Nothing a little wash and wax won't fix, I suppose. But, it would appear you've... more than filled your part of the bargain. Consider yourself debt-free. In fact, take this as a bonus." he said, handing over a handful of bits. "Stop by in a few days, they'll be more work for you, though... not like this."

Spike thanked him and returned to the Platinum that was now 100% his. However, he couldn't help but hear the voice of Sister Sunny Rays in his head once again on his drive home: "Work like that corrupts the soul."




...and the mushroom cloud from the test blast could be seen from both Las Pallas and Los Relinchos, though government sources state that there is absolutely no risk of radiation to those areas. This new development in bomb technology comes just days after Yakyakistan announced their third successful test of a nuclear bomb. It would appear that we have a race ahoof. You're listening to PBBL Las Pallas, bringing big band music to this desert paradise. This is your host, Octavia, and I'll return after a few short messages from our sponsors.