//------------------------------// // 217. The Loss of Faith - Prologue // Story: Blaze the Pony Tale // by Wolven5 //------------------------------// The sounds of the city never stopped sounding, a constant in the lives of those residing in Manehatten. To Blackberry Hossmane, multi-millionaire businessmane, respected charity-driver, and certified self-made stallion, they were a constant in his life as well, and perhaps a comfort. Once in very distant memory, he’d been nothing more than just another street urchin, a unicorn colt wandering the streets, struggling to survive day after day. That all changed when he was roped into a jewelry store robbery by a con-mane and his flunkies. Luckily for him, he’d overheard them planning to lock him in the store so that he would take the fall. Armed with this knowledge, Hossmane had managed to turn the tables; he’d left an anonymous tip for the Manehatten Police of when and where the robbery would take place. While the street scum who’d intended to leave him to take the fall were arrested instead, Hossmane managed to slink away with enough stolen jewelry to buy his own apartment. That night changed Hossmane, as he realized how he could get away with crime while rising above his squalor. He pulled off a few more successful heists, and for each one he made sure somepony took the fall in his place. Using the money and valuables he’d stolen, along with the deal-making skills he developed, Hossmane started his first business. His ambition to rise never stopped, and he continued to reach higher and higher, all the while building a rep in the Equestrian criminal underworld as a ruthless and scheming crimelord. He allied himself with the crime families of Manehatten and Cloudsdale, he appointed lieutenants to carry out his criminal activities for him in order to decrease the chances of him being culpable, he made deals and honored them but stabbed his partners in the back once their dealings were concluded. Hossmane never married or had children (at least, none he acknowledged as his own. Even he knew he had to have a few bastards out there with all the trophy fillyfriends he’d had over the years) so as not to have somepony “special” that his enemies could use against him. He built up a public image of being a generous and respectable businessmane, honored and admired by all of Manehatten and its innocent and exploitable citizens. So very few knew him as the ruthless criminal he really was and even fewer dared to accuse him, like that stallion did a while back when Hossmane had made donations to build a new playground in Manehatten Central Park. Even so, Hossmane didn’t bother learning that sad little gnat’s name who’d accused him of robbing him of everything he had. He’d done the same to hundreds of ponies over the decades, through channels legal or illicit. Now a stallion of fifty-six, Hossmane was beginning to think of the future. Not simply the future of his company, but his own future. Having carried out crime and accepted the risks involved for so many years, Blackberry Hossmane actually accepted his mortality long ago. He knew he couldn’t last forever and he didn’t really care to. He only wanted to leave his mark on the world, all the while enjoying his fortune of blood-money, balancing out a life of ruthless ambition with a hedonistic lifestyle. Still… Blackberry considered. Still, four times in his life had someone made an attempt on it. Of course, he’d survived because he’d bought and hired the best security and bodyguards money could buy. He’d taken precautions in all of his outings. But with each of those attempts, Hossmane had wondered, When will my time come? When will somepony succeed? What will I leave behind? Sighing, he rubbed his temple, his horn dragging the pen over the papers he was looking over as he sat in his office, situated in the top floor of his skyscraper which housed his company. It gave him the perfect vantage point to look down over the city. His city. Tonight was a new moon, which made the city lights more prevalent beneath a dark and inky sky. It seemed like the promise of a quiet night, perfect to get some work done. Particularly work in preparing a hostile takeover of New Heights Avionics. Hossmane could recall how a while back, Blueblood, the head of House Polaris and his airship company, New Heights, had combined it with Jet Set’s. New Heights had been on his radar before but after that partnership was established between those two former rivals, Hossmane had decided he wanted that pie. Not a piece but the whole thing. He’d started with identifying those who could be an obstacle or an asset, bribed those he could and arranged an “accident” for the few he couldn’t and could get away with. Now, all he had to do was create an embarrassing situation for Blueblood and Jet Set, then exploit said situation to “legally” take over their company and leave them with nothing. As he looked over the documents, his horn suddenly vibrated as a chill washed down his shoulders and back. Narrowing his eyes, he said aloud, “Impressive… You mask your presence well. Flawless timing, perfect control… Were I a betting stallion, I would wager you deliberately made yourself known to me.” Hossmane looked up, his dark purple coat and icy-blue mane faintly shimmering in his lamplight, and he saw him, hanging from the ceiling like a bat. A cloaked and hooded individual, a unicorn horn poking through a brim in the hood, which completely concealed this intruder’s face. The fabric of his cloak did not reflect any light but seemed to absorb it, making him seem like a mass of darkness as the intruder suddenly dropped down from the ceiling, landing soundlessly on his hooves like a cat, and glaring at the business pony before him. Hossmane’s lips pulled back into a condescending smirk, “And you did let me sense your presence, didn't you... You are not the first to make an attempt on my life nor will you be the last.” “Blackberry Hossmane,” the intruder spoke, his voice clearly male but something about it seemed distorted, like several voices speaking at the same time but not in perfect synch. Still, clearly enough that Hossmane understood every word. “I am not here for your life. I am here because you are guilty.” “Everypony’s guilty of something or other,” Hossmane snorted, “perhaps you could paint a more clearer picture?” “Tax evasion, insurance fraud, embezzlement, bribery, racketeering, assault and battery, shush-money, blackmail and extortion, drug-trafficking, illicit dealings with known criminals-” the Hooded Pony listed only for Hossmane to raise a hoof. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard this song and dance before,” he sighed, sounding bored, waving off the accusations with one hoof but subtly reaching under his desk with the other, pressing a button hidden on the underside of his desktop. “The big shot business pony, an easy target of slander and scandal by the common pony envious of everything he has and supposedly doesn’t deserve. “Well, my good sir... Everything I have, everything I built, I did so with my own hooves and effort! I rose from my less-than-humble beginnings as a discarded and unwanted street rat to become the most successful and respected pony Manehatten has ever seen!! Who do you think you are, coming in here with these accusations and besmirching of my good name and image?!” “Who I am, Blackberry Hossmane, is your judge and your jury,” the Hooded Pony responded in a dry tone. “Not my executioner?” Hossmane pointed out with an amused raise of his brow. “A role I’ve had to play more times than I care to count,” the Hooded Pony retorted as Hossmane subtly peered over the Hooded Pony’s shoulder. “As for your “success and respect”… We both know it came not from honest business skills, Hossmane. It all came from crime! From your illegal dealings with criminals to your taking hits out on-” *WHOOSHLASH* The sound of a body hit the floor as Hossmane sat frozen at what he just witnessed. He managed to maintain his composure as he looked upon the headless body of his hired bodyguard, a Diamond Dog, a pool of blood already forming all over his imported carpeting. The Hooded Pony hadn’t even budged from his position as he’d whipped something black and shimmering out from under his cloak. It had all happened so fast Hossmane never got a good look at the weapon as it seemed to vanish under his visitor’s cloak like a snake. For a few moments, there was only stunned silence before Hossmane managed to ask, “Impressive yet again… Did I give him away?” “No,” the Hooded Pony replied with a dry tone, “I knew he was there the whole time. Even before you pressed that button under your desktop to call him out from his hiding place.” “Then why kill him at all?” Hossmane questioned, “You knew where he was, what his purpose was, you could have easily subdued him, I’m sure.” “Besides to make a point?” the Hooded Pony looked at the body and head he had just decapitated. “Your guard dog here is an infamous hit-dog, wanted in over six countries with a body count of eighty-seven confirmed victims, while suspected of having killed almost two hundred! He deserved worse, but I have neither the time nor the patience to take him in for processing. "Especially, when I have a much bigger fish to fry right in front of me…” Blackberry Hossmane was finally starting to get nervous but before he could say anything, the Hooded Pony continued, “Blackberry Hossmane! You have failed this city, and so I give you twenty-four hours…” Twenty-four hours?! Hossmane began to sweat, “To live?” “To confess!” The Hooded Pony clarified, “Every crime you’ve ever committed, every dirty deal, every person you’ve ever exploited or harmed, however the method, every act of fraud, every life you’ve taken even by proxy! “You have twenty-four hours, starting from midnight tonight, to come forward on national television to confess to every crime you’ve ever committed, or else.” “LISTEN HERE, YOU- YOU- YOU MISERABLE LITTLE NOPONY!!” Hossmane shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as he levitated his pen as though it were a deadly weapon. “In case you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with, I AM BLACKBERRY HOSSMANE!!! I don’t just run this city, I OWN IT! Every insignificant little tick running about here and there acting as though they matter! Struggling day after day to get by, looking for any opportunity, THEY ARE SPECKS OF DIRT I WIPE OFF MY HOOVES! THEIR LIVES ARE TOILET PAPER I USE TO WIPE MY ASS AND FLUSH DOWN THE TOILET TO JOIN THE REST OF PONYKIND’S REFUSE!! I will not be bullied by some insipid little vigilante bitch who barges in like some wannabe ninja and-” A flash of light interrupted Hossmane’s rant and he saw what appeared to be a photograph floating in front of him. But then he saw what was on it! More photographs appeared, all of them displaying Hossmane in a compromising, embarrassing, or otherwise dirty situation, photos of crimes in progress, photos of his criminal associates. It didn’t stop there. On his desk appeared documents, letters, forged paperwork, all of it detailing past crimes and illicit dealings, a lot of them with his signature, mentioning names, dates, places. Victims. The sweat had turned cold but then Hossmane yelped as a large duffel bag was dropped on top of all the dirt. He looked at the Hooded Pony, who remained as still and imperceptible as darkness. Afraid of what he was about to find but knowing he was in a corner, he slowly tugged at the zipper with his telekinetic aura. At first, he smelled blood and rot, and then he saw them! Heads. With very familiar faces, including one of his most trusted criminal associates. “Dark Alley…?!” Hossmane felt his heart began to pound in his chest as he fought the urge to vomit. “Those are the heads of your top lieutenants and most frequent criminal associates,” the Hooded Pony said in a foreboding yet smug tone. “That took me two hours! Whereas all that dirt took me only the past week to dig up.” Hossmane couldn’t believe it! He was cornered! All this dirt, the pile was more than enough evidence to bury him so deep he’d never claw his way out! This Hooded Pony had him by the balls and one wrong move on his part would get them ripped off and leave him writhing on the ground in his own mess! He couldn’t get this guy bumped off, he couldn’t threaten him, he didn’t even know who he was so he couldn’t even threaten those he might care about. That left perhaps only one option. “...What do you want? Name your price, I’ll pay you anything!” Hossmane offered, beginning to pant as the panic started to settle in. When the Hooded Pony didn’t respond, he began to get hysterical. “ANYTHING! Money, drugs, weapons, artifacts, mares! JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!!!” “What I want, Blackberry Hossmane, is justice. Justice for all those you’ve wronged, all those you’ve hurt, and for you to answer for your crimes,” the Hooded Pony responded, every word sinking Hossmane deeper and deeper into despair. “There is no bribing your way out of this. No one to threaten. All you have now is this last chance to confess and own up to your own sins. “Maybe, just maybe, the courts will show you a sliver of leniency, but that is only if you come forward, plead guilty, and make amends. Regardless of what you choose, everything you have, everything you’ve built, every crime you’ve committed, every innocent you’ve hurt… It’s all about to come down on you, and it’s gonna come down hard… and you will spend perhaps the rest of your life in prison.” Hossmane was shocked speechless, sweating up a storm, his heart pounding like an anvil as realized just how screwed he was. The Hooded Pony began to step backwards as he said, “Starting midnight tonight, you have twenty-four hours to come forward and confess. If you do not, copies of all this evidence will be anonymously dropped off at the Manehatten Police Department as well as every major news media in all of Equestria. “And don’t even try to run. I have eyes and ears all over this city, watching every conceivable escape route. You won’t be able to sneak away like a rat; you will be immediately arrested and brought in, and any chance of leniency from the courts will go out the window. “Regardless of what you choose, Blackberry Hossmane, you are ruined and you will be punished. As I’ve stated, you have twenty-four hours to come forward. Think about it…” And the Hooded Pony vanished like a bad dream from which Hossmane couldn’t awaken, as he was left surrounded by dirt and blood.