//------------------------------// // 277 - Vicious Cycle // Story: Lateral Movement // by Alzrius //------------------------------// Fiddlesticks felt a chill run down her spine as she saw who Fruit Crunch was talking to. She hadn’t ever heard of Peachy Keen until recently, but Spit Polish was a pony she’d made sure to steer clear of before now. She hadn’t been alone in that, either; all of the camp ponies had known to stay away from Block Party and his servants if at all possible, and if you found yourself in their presence to do everything you could not to upset them. Fiddlesticks had been fortunate in that regard, since they’d never called on foals to patrol the city or try to raid any of the nearby farms. Even so, she’d lived in terror of the brutal stallion and his minions, scared that Tiddlywinks would start crying when they were around and draw their ire. Block Party, she’d been sure, was the sort of pony who’d hit even a baby. And Spit Polish isn’t any better, she thought worriedly. After all, the yellow stallion had tried to murder Lex, the pony who’d done so much for them, in his sleep. Only the worst of the worst would try to do something so awful! Fortunately it hadn’t worked, and Lex had punished the stallion severely, which was the only reason that Fiddlesticks wasn’t running in the opposite direction right now. Even then, she couldn’t help but cradle Tiddlywinks tighter in anxiety, making the infant coo happily at the unintentional hug. The other foals wore expressions that matched her own. Out of her periphery, she could see that Straightlace was frowning deeper than usual, remaining very still. Behind him, Feathercap looked ready to bolt, still shielding his face with his binoculars. Even Cleansweep seemed uncertain, hovering in the air with an uneasy look on her face. Oblivious to how the others felt, Fruit Crunch smiled. “Miss Keen, somepony asked me to give you a message.” “A message?” echoed Peachy in surprise. She shot a glance at Spit Polish, still keeping a hoof across his back, but the stallion just shrugged and shook his head. Looking back at Fruit Crunch, Peachy cocked her head. “From who?” “I dunno their name,” replied Fruit Crunch easily. “But they were a unicorn stallion. They said they wanted to talk to you behind the train station.” He paused for just a moment before suddenly blurting out, “Alone.” “That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” murmured Spit Polish, looking at Peachy. She nodded, frowning as a confused expression passed over her features. “Did he say why? And who-, wait…it wasn’t Lex, was it?” Just the thought of that was enough to make her eyes widen. She wasn’t the only one. “Wh-, no!” Fruit Crunch grimaced, shaking his head back and forth so fast that it made his mane swing wildly. “No, definitely not Lex! It was a stallion with, um…” He glanced at the grass just for an instant before he continued. “With a green coat, and…” His eyes darted to the river. “And blue hair.” “A unicorn stallion with a green coat and blue hair,” murmured Peachy Keen, clearly trying to put a name to the description. It apparently didn’t work, because she glanced over at Spit Polish again. “Do you know anypony like that?” “No. I can’t think of someone who matches that description.” Fiddlesticks couldn’t help but fidget in place, listening to the conversation. There was something odd about how Peachy Keen and Spit Polish were talking to each other. It didn’t match the way she had her foreleg around him. They were still acting nice to each other, but there was a tension there, like…like they were being too careful to be considerate of each other, trying very hard not to say something the other one would have found upsetting. It wasn’t how close friends acted. Seemingly oblivious to the atmosphere, Spit Polish turned back to Fruit Crunch. “Did you see his cutie mark?” The colt shook his head again. “He was wearing saddlebags.” Spit Polish gave a grunt of acknowledgment at that, but didn’t otherwise respond, and an uncomfortable silence fell. Peachy Keen was biting her lip, looking at the train station in consideration, while her companion did his best to look anywhere else but at her. But a few seconds later, he gave a sigh and nudged Peachy. “You should go.” Something about his tone was different, as though he’d stopped trying to walk on eggshells. It was enough to make Peachy Keen whip her head around, surprised and maybe a little hopeful. “Really?” He gave her an insincere smile. “Yeah. I mean, what if it’s a secret admirer or something? You wouldn’t want to miss out on meeting them because you were stuck babysitting me.” His grin changed then, becoming a smile that was somehow cruel and self-deprecating at the same time. “Besides, you said how much you didn’t want to be around me before, remember?” Peachy stiffened at that, drawing a sharp breath. An instant later, her expression became flat. “Now?” Her voice was suddenly brimming with repressed anger. “You really want to have this discussion now?” Spit Polish looked away from her, keeping his eyes on the river. “I’m just saying, if you want to go you should go. I’ll be fine on my own.” “We can go!” The words burst from Fiddlesticks’ lips before she could stop herself. Just being around Spit Polish was bad enough, but seeing grown-ups fighting like this was incredibly uncomfortable. “We can go, and we’ll tell whoever that stallion is that you can meet with him another time.” Her outburst had drawn all eyes to her, and she could see that her friends looked relieved at the suggestion, quite clearly not wanting to be here either. Only Fruit Crunch looked ticked, glaring at her in silent fury. But it was Peachy Keen who responded first. “No. I’ll go, since that’s what Spit Polish wants.” The other stallion still didn’t look at her. “It is.” “Fine.” Peachy withdrew her leg from around Spit Polish, stepping away from him. There was a pregnant pause then, but when Spit Polish had no reaction, Peachy turned and trotted away, her face carefully neutral. In a few moments, she was out of earshot, not looking back as she headed toward the train station. Fruit Crunch waited a few more seconds before glancing back at the other foals, a cocky grin on his face as he waggled his eyebrows at them in a clear “watch me” expression. A moment later, he walked toward Spit Polish. “So, I got you a little something.” Blinking as though he’d forgotten they were there, Spit Polish turned to regard the colt. “Huh? Fuh mee?” In contrast to a moment ago, his lips smacked as he spoke, the words coming out slurred. Even when he finished speaking his mouth hung open lightly, as though he’d forgotten to close it, giving Fruit Crunch a confused look. “Yeah,” grinned Fruit Crunch, digging around in his saddlebag for a moment before withdrawing his hoof. “Check this out! It’s an orange!” Sure enough, the round fruit was there, balanced on the end of his hoof as he held it out toward Spit Polish. Fiddlesticks’ eyes widened. Oranges hadn’t been part of the lunch that Lex distributed a little while ago! There was only one place where he could have gotten that… “You shouldn’t have that!” she yelled, suddenly worried. “Lex said those emergency rations were only for needy ponies!” Again, Fruit Crunch sent an angry glare her way, but this time it was accompanied by a mean smirk. “What do you know, Fiddleface? Just look at poor Spit Polish. He’s the neediest pony here, right?” He turned back to the stallion in question. “Go on, take it.” Spit Polish’s ears folded back, his eyes making it clear that he wasn’t sure what was going on. With a confused expression he swung his head back and forth, looking from Fiddlesticks’ worried face to Fruit Crunch’s grin. “Izzit aw-rite?” he mumbled, looking at the colt. Fruit Crunch smiled wider. “Of course it is. I got it for you.” His face brightening, Spit Polish reached for the orange…only for Fruit Crunch to drop it right before the other stallion’s hoof made contact with it. “Oops!” he cried in mock-surprise. “Clumsy me! I’m so sorry!” “Fruit Crunch,” called Fiddlesticks warningly, not liking where this was going. But the colt ignored her, and Spit Polish seemed more intent on the wayward snack than anything else. “Aww…” Pouting at the loss of the fruit, the cursed stallion pawed at it clumsily, causing the orange to roll along the ground as he attempted to scoop it up with his hoof. “Here,” smiled Fruit Crunch nastily. “Let me help.” He moved closer to the stallion and, waiting carefully for when Spit Polish reached out for the orange again, kicked out. His hoof collided with Spit Polish’s foreleg – the one that was still planted on the ground while his other one tried to reclaim the orange – and knocked it aside, sending Spit Polish tumbling to the ground. “Oh no!” exclaimed Fruit Crunch, now openly sarcastic. “I guess I’m not the only clumsy pony here!” “Hey…Crunchy, c’mon. Knock it off.” But Cleansweep’s protest was half-hearted, signaling discomfort rather than outrage. “Aw, I’m just playing around, Dust Bunny.” Fruit Punch’s voice was light, still sounding amused as he looked at the fallen stallion. “Let me get that for you.” He reached out toward the orange, lying just in front of Spit Polish’s nose, only to suddenly lunge forward, stomping on it and crushing the fruit to pulp in an instant. Juice flew everywhere, including onto Spit Polish’s face, who cried out in dismay. “W-wai’d yuu doodat?” “I can’t help it,” laughed Fruit Crunch. “It’s my cutie mark, see?” He turned in profile, pointing to his flank. “I’m the best there is at making all-natural fruit juice, so when I saw that lying on the ground I just couldn’t help myself.” His smile was openly cruel now, leering at the fallen stallion. “Sorry about that.” “Yuu geddaway fromee,” mumbled Spit Polish as he started backing up, stumbling as he tried to climb to his hooves. But Fruit Crunch refused to let him go, advancing on the retreating stallion. “Aw, don’t be like that. Here, you’re all dirty now. Let me clean you up!” The last three words came out as a growl as he suddenly lunged forward again, locking his teeth around Spit Polish’s mane and tugging hard. The stallion cried out in sudden pain, instinctively trying to move with Fruit Crunch to avoid having his hair pulled. The result was that, when Fruit Crunch released him a moment later, Spit Polish went stumbling…right into the river, finally losing his balance and collapsing in the water. Behind him, Fruit Crunch had collapsed also, but with laughter at seeing what had become of his victim. “Oh, this is priceless!” he chortled. “Block Party’s right-hoof pony, all washed up! Literally!” “That’s enough!” Pausing only long enough to shove Tiddlywinks onto Feathercap’s back – ignoring the unicorn’s frightened yelp at the sudden burden – Fiddlesticks strode forward and planted herself between Fruit Crunch and Spit Polish, the latter sputtering as he lifted his head out of the water. “You leave him alone, Fruit Crunch!” “What, like he left us alone?” sneered the earth colt as he picked himself up. “Have you forgotten everything this guy did, Fiddleface?” “That doesn’t mean that what you’re doing now is okay!” she shot back. “I’m just giving him a little payback,” sneered the larger foal. “It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.” “My dad says…” Straightlace faltered for a moment as Fruit Crunch glared at him, but he rallied a moment later, going over to plant himself right next to Fiddlesticks. “My dad says that good ponies shouldn’t be mean to people, even if those people are mean to them. He-” “Forget your dad!” spat Fruit Crunch, no longer amused. “What good was he when Block party was running this place, huh?” Reaching out, he gave the other colt a shove, causing Straightlace to back up a few steps. “He was just another weakling who was too scared to speak up, because he knew what’d happen if he did!” He glared over Fiddlesticks’ head, at where Spit Polish was still lying in the river. “Well guess what? Now it’s your turn to be scared!” But suddenly Cleansweep was blocking his view of the other stallion. “Crunchy, look, let’s get out of here, okay? We can…” She gestured helplessly. “We can go play a game of beanbag toss or tag or something…” But Fruit Crunch wouldn’t be dissuaded, giving the filly an outraged look. “I don’t believe this! You’re sticking up for him too?! You agreed with me all those times when I said they’d pay, remember?!” Cleansweep winced, her wings slowing as she landed next to Fiddlesticks. “I know. I know I did, but Lex already did that…” Her voice was pleading. “So please, just…just knock it off, okay?” “NO!” Fruit Crunch roared the word, pawing at the ground in fury. “This isn’t good enough! He has to feel scared and angry and helpless! He has to cry himself to sleep! HE HAS TO SUFFER FOR WHAT HE DID TO ME!" Silence hung in the wake of his final outburst, and Fruit Crunch hung his head as though exhausted, drawing ragged breaths. Except, Fiddlesticks realized a moment later, they weren’t breaths. They were sobs. And the reason he was looking down… He’s crying, she realized. “Crunchy…” Cleansweep took a step toward the distraught colt, holding a hoof out toward him. But Fruit Crunch didn’t look up at her. Instead, he turned and bolted, running as fast as he could away from them. “Crunchy!” She paused just long enough to look at Fiddlesticks and Straightlace and yell, “I’m going after him!” before taking off in pursuit. And just like that, it was over. For several seconds nopony moved, until Tiddlywinks' crying broke the silence. That seemed to snap everyone out of their stupor, with Feathercap awkwardly trying to rock the bawling infant. But it was only when Fiddlesticks went and picked him up, shooting Feathercap a grateful look, that the baby quieted down. Not sure what to do now, she looked back over at where Spit Polish had fallen, and saw that Straightlace had ventured into the river, helping the stallion to his hooves. But once Spit Polish had gotten up – his foreleg still draped over Straightlace’s shoulders – he made no move to exit the belly-deep water, his eyes closed and a look of shame spreading across his face. “…I beat him,” he said softly. The children all shared a look, but it was Straightlace who spoke up. “What?” “I beat him,” repeated Spit Polish quietly. A moment later he sighed, opening his eyes but not looking at anyone, keeping his gaze on the ground. “I didn’t recognize that colt at first. He came to see the comman-…to see Block Party a while back. He’d heard about how we were stealing food from the nearby farms, and he was mad. He said we should be asking them for help. That he was a McNeigh and could use his family’s history of working with the farmers to get them to donate enough food for us to hold out until help arrived.” Having just put Tiddlywinks down to play with some flowers, Fiddlesticks couldn’t help but gawk at the stallion’s confession. “And you beat him up for that?!” An anguished look crossed Spit Polish’s face. “No! I mean, not at first.” He seemed to realize how that sounded, because he continued. “The comm-, Block Party said that kid’s idea wouldn’t get us enough food. That we had to take what we needed in order for everypony to survive.” Nopony said anything to that. They didn’t need to; all of them were aware that they’d been starving when Lex had found them. “That kid tried to get Block Party to change his mind,” continued Spit Polish in a miserable voice. “That was when…when he gave me the order.” Nopony replied, not sure what to say to that. Finally, Straightlace tugged on Spit Polish’s leg, and the stallion let the colt lead him out of the river. “I knew it was wrong. I knew it, but I just…I did it anyway and I don’t…I don’t know why…” His voice started to break then, his lips quivering. But it was what happened next that pushed him over the edge. Tiddlywinks offered him a flower. It wasn’t anything special, just a daisy that he’d picked, mangling it in the process. But there wasn’t any hesitation or fear on the baby’s face as he held the plant out towards Spit Polish, smiling brightly. It was enough to paralyze the older stallion, unable to turn away from the sight. How long had it been since somepony had looked at him like that, without pity or resentment or fear? How low had he sunk that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone do something nice for him? More than that, when was the last time he’d done something nice for someone else? Taking the flower with trembling hooves, Spit Polish began to cry.