//------------------------------// // Tit for Tat // Story: It Ain't Gold that Dazzles // by Gyro Steambass //------------------------------// Considering it was Sunday, usually Blackjack’s day off, the rest of the day was spent teaching Adagio how to work with not only beef, but also pork, fish and poultry. Naturally, she kept messing up at first. Which is why they were using meat that was unfit for sale, until she was good enough to cut proper meat. She had to cut meat that was too old, had become too damaged or had become covered in too much mucus and bacteria from hanging around too much in the freezer. She almost threw up at that last one. While he taught her the basics, they started playing a game that he liked. He called it: Tit for Tat. They’d take turns asking questions and if they didn’t mind answering, they’d answer. He figured that if she was going to work for him, they might as well know a bit about each other. Nothing too personal, just a bit so they weren’t complete strangers to each other. “So, how old are you anyway?” Adagio asked, starting the game, as she was trying to cut the ham. It had become a bit too old and had become way too tough. “You sound and look like you’re at least thirty-five, but you don’t act like it.” It just wouldn’t budge. “I look and sound that old?” He snorted as he looked up from the meat he was working on, raising an eyebrow. As soon as Adagio had gotten a hold of the basics of the particular type of meat, he’d start working on the meat that was fit for sale. “Pretty sure I only just turned twenty-four last month.” He put away some of the meat he had cut off. “How about you?” “Twenty-two,” she lied. She was actually seventy-two, but there was no way he’d believe that. She was twenty when Starswirl banished her and the others to the human world, although he also sent them forwards in time by more than nine centuries. “How long have you-” Chk “finally got through that,” she whispered to herself. She put the ham away. It had torn a bit from the fact that she had pushed down way too hard on the ham, but considering it was old and tough, she could have done much worse. He nodded approvingly. “Not bad, for a meathead.” She scoffed. “Thanks.” She moved on to the ribs. “So, for how long have you been running this shop?” “I’ve been working here for about six years, since I turned eighteen. Got it from the same guy who taught me.” He stopped his work and furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment. “No, that’s not it. He actually still owns the place. He just let’s me take care of everything, while I pay him five percent of the profits.” He chuckled and continued his work, adding spices to a steak. “He told me the same thing I told you. He’d help me, but not for free.” “Makes sense,” she said as she cut through some old and hardened ribs. “Although getting to keep ninety five percent of the profits sounds rather generous.” “Well, most of the money I make is spend on this shop. I really don’t get to keep a lot.” That also made sense. “Now, where are ya from?” He put the steak away. “Canterlot.” That wasn’t a complete lie. She was originally from the Equestrian oceans, but she had spend a considerable amount of time in and around Canterlot, even before the disaster that was the Battle of the Bands. “And you?” “Manehattan, born and partially raised.” He raised his hand, interrupting the question that had already formed in her mind. “Don’t ask what I mean with partially, I ain’t telling my more personal stories to ya yet.” She shrugged, understanding his point. “Fair enough.” “Why’d ya come here? Canterlot seems like a much nicer place.” She tensed up, messing up the rib she was cutting completely and almost cutting of her fingers. “It is.” She sighed, throwing away the failed rib into the garbage bag. “It’s just... I really messed things up there. Not just for me, but for... others as well.” She noticed he wasn’t cutting anymore. She could already feel the tears forming in her eyes, now that she wasn’t distracted by work anymore, as she again thought of how she failed those who were basically her sisters. “They recently found a chance at a better life. If I had stayed, I... I would’ve just kept on d-dragging them down.” She felt a tear roll down her cheek. “I don’t want that. I’ve got to show that I’m someone to be proud of. That I’m not a complete f-fuck-up.” She wiped away her tears. It was quiet for a moment. Blackjack sighed deeply. She turned to him. “My parents died in the middle of a gang war when I was twelve. So did my sister.” She gasped, her eyes going wide. “The guy who taught me, he saved me when I was sixteen.” “H-how?” She whispered. He shrugged and got up. “The gangs in Manehattan were going crazy back then.” He walked over to a picture on the wall. It was slightly charred. “A fight broke out in front of our house and one stray Molotov cocktail later and our house was burning down.” He chuckled. “They managed to save me and some stuff. After I was fit enough to, “fend for my self”, they threw me and my things out on the street with nothing but a good luck wish.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Tit for Tat.” He chuckled. “It means blow for blow, an eye for an eye.” He walked back to his work. “Ya didn’t have to tell me that, ya clearly didn’t want to, but ya did it anyway. Only seemed fair that I did the same.” She blinked, a little confused. “Don’t you miss them?” “Course I do. But I rather not think about how it sucks that they’re gone. It’s better to think about the fact that even though my life went to shit, I still managed to crawl back up to a normal live.” He furrowed his brow again. “Well, mostly normal.” “So you just, don’t think about it?” “Yep. It’s kept me from becoming depressed and kept me sane.” Although he just shared some rather personal things with her, she couldn’t keep herself from snorting. He gave her a glare. “I think you mean, relatively sane,” she said teasingly. “What do ya mean?” He seemed slightly confused. “It’s pretty crazy, just picking some random homeless girl like me and giving her a job.” She continued her work, feeling a little more relaxed. “But... I, you...” He sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty crazy.” He also continued his work. “But not as crazy as comin’ to Manehattan for a second chance.” He grinned. “Fair enough.” “Wait,” she stopped cleaning the fish. “You never finished school?” “Nope.” He shrugged dismissively. “But I get by.” “But-” He cut her of. “Next question.” His tone told her that there was no room for debate. Apparently that was a sore spot for him. She huffed. “Fine.” She finished of the salmon and put it away, and continued with the next fish. It seemed a little bloated. “Your turn.” He stopped and seemed to think for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, his head tilted. “What did ya do before, ya know?” He clearly tried to change the subject entirely. She stopped to gather her thoughts. What she should tell him, and what she shouldn’t. “I... was a singer.” “Was?” He seemed genuinely curious now. “I...” An accident. That could work. “I caused an accident. It damaged our vocal chords and now we can’t sing any louder than a whisper.” He whistled. “Yeesh. Most have been quite the accident.” “Yeah.” She proceeded to cut the fish. It seemed more bloated than before. Jack seemed to notice as well, his eyes widening. He got up to stop her, holding up his hand. “Wait, don’t-” But it was too late. BANG “-cut...” Adagio Dazzle, former siren, was covered in fish guts. He sighed, took off his gloves and scratched the back of his head. “Oh boy.”