//------------------------------// // To the End // Story: Life on the Murder Scene // by The Red Parade //------------------------------// The Sparky Holster is a fucking shithole. The smell of alcohol almost suffocates me as soon as I walk in the door. There aren’t many ponies that’d be caught dead in a place like this. The beer is shitty, and the company is worse. No way in hell I could get my rifle through the door. My pistol’s going to have to make do. The establishment doesn’t allow guns, but I can guaran-damn-tee you that at least half the ponies in this room are armed. It’s busy as shit today. The room’s full of drunk, young ponies, trying to blow off steam and have a good time. It makes me fucking sick. Twitch sits on my right, her hat resting on the countertop. She holds a bottle between her hooves, staring down into it. She hasn’t spoken to me since we caught Dogma. Usually, she would have complained by now, since this is the fifth bar we’ve been to tonight. Her silence is actually starting to unnerve me. “So, uh, you see him?” I venture. Twitch grunts. “We don’t even know what he looks like. The fuck do you mean?” “Well, I have a--” “I know, a plan. Your plan is just asking the bartenders if they know him. You’re a true tactician.” Twitch takes a gulp from her bottle. “Fuck me, that’s good. Seriously, why are you blowing all your bits on this?” “For this bounty? It’s worth it.” I finally catch the bartender’s eye. The buffalo snorts and puts down his rag before approaching. “Hey there, Wind Spirit. I’m looking for a pony.” Wind Spirit grunts. “Aren’t you always.”  I fish into my bag and pull out a sack of bits, dropping it on the table. “Pony by the name Lowball. You seen him?” Wind Spirit narrows his eyes. He shoves the bag back towards me with disdain. “No. Not after what you pulled last time.” I sigh. So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Fine. I pull out a second bag of bits and toss it onto the table. Wind Spirit glares at the bits like they killed his parents. He sighs and scoops them towards him. “Orange earth pony by the pool table. Cutie mark of a number six pool ball.” I flash him a smile and tip my hat. “Cheers.” I start to get up, but Wind reaches out and grabs my hoof.  “Whatever you do, do it outside,” he growls. I nod, and he lets go. Twitch and I turn our attention to Lowball, who’s currently laughing his ass off at some stupid joke his buddy told. “Alright, game time.” Lowball’s clearly drunk off his ass, which means there’s an easy way to do this. Unfortunately, it’ll require Twitch’s cooperation. “Hey, Twitch? You still single?” Twitch almost spits out her beer. “What the fu--no. No. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not fucking doing it.” I roll my eyes at her protests. “Look, we need to draw him out of this fucking bar. He’s drunk, not thinking straight, and probably hasn’t had a decent romp in weeks.” Twitch scoffs. “How do you know that?” “You kidding me? Look at that face! You think anyone’s going to shag with that?” She blinks and grabs her bottle as her face turns redder than her mane. “Fucking do it yourself then.” I raise any eyebrow. “Really? You’ve seen me try to flirt. You know how this ends.” Twitch scowls, anger flashing in her eyes. “No. I’m not doing it.” “Why the hell are you being such a hardass now?” She takes a deep breath and sighs. “Killjoy, are we friends?” I blink. “Uh, duh?” “Then why are you lying to me?” She holds up a hoof before I can respond. “I know you. You don’t blow off hundreds of bits on a single bounty, and you don’t even take a bounty unless you have good intel. So why are you running around the desert like a madmare?” I open my mouth, then shut it. She’s onto me. Didn’t think she’d figure it out so quickly. “Come on, Twitch. Trust me. Please.” Twitch's lower eyelid starts bouncing again. She scowls, but her glare softens up a bit. “If I do this, you have to level with me and tell me the truth.” “Deal. Hell, I’ll buy you drinks for a month if that’s what it takes.” “Knowing you, you’d just buy me apple cider every fucking time.” With a grunt, Twitch finishes off her drink. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” We slide off our stools and make our way through the cloud.  Lowball closes one eye and sticks out his tongue as he grips the pool cue in his hooves. He rocks back and forth on his rear hooves before thrusting the stick forwards. The poor fucker misses the ball completely and falls forwards, slamming his chin into the felt. His buddies point and laugh at him, and he laughs along as he collects himself. I give Twitch a slap on the flank with my wing and wink at her. “Go get ‘em, girl.” Twitch rolls her eyes and starts fiddling with her mane. “How do I look?” “Fine, just go! Get him to go to the alleyway across the street.” She nods and takes a deep breath. Twitch plasters a confident grin on her face and walks towards him, hips swaying to the ambient music of the bar. She catches the eye of a few of the gang-bangers, who nudge each other and wiggle their eyebrows. Twitch slinks over to Lowball’s side as he staggers to his hooves. She lets out a low purr, eyes running up and down his body. “Nice shot there, cowpony.” “Thanks, darlin’. Comes with practice,” Lowball replies, smirking. He jerks his head backwards and the other goons grumble. Lowball’s claiming this one for himself. “Buy you a drink?” Twitch gives him a sly smile. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you…” “Oh, it wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it’d be my pleasure…” He tosses the stick aside and leads her off to the bar, out of hearing range. Twitch gives me one last glare over her shoulder before putting her mask back on. I roll my eyes and make for the door. It’s all on Twitch now. A blast of wind scatters my mane as I step out into the night. Fucking cold at night.  I absently reach for my cigarettes and lighter. Glancing up at the sky, I notice some dark clouds on the horizon. Storm’s brewing. If I squint, I can spot some Storm Chasers zipping in and out of the clouds, prepping for rain. Why the fuck is it always raining out here anyways? Feels like some neo-noir bullshit if you ask me. I exhale, letting the smoke drift up into the air. My thoughts go back to Octavia and Apple Fritter again. I never told them what I did for a living. Don’t plan on telling them either. But with all of this going on now… That makes me frown. I don’t know how I’m going to face Fritty after this. She hates violence. How can she live like this? This whole place is a shithole of death and dying. Every single day ponies kill and get killed. Cops, Vultures, bounty hunters, Cactus Brigaders, regular ponies… it’s just how it is down here. But she still hates violence. I just don’t get it. How can you be a pacifist in a world where everyone is out to hurt you? I sigh. Apple Fritter deserves better. I wish I could give her… something. Tavi was always one to talk about a ‘better world.’ Actually, now that I think about it, she hasn’t talked about that in a long time. What the hell does Octavia even do, anyways? She used to be a musician, but last time I checked she wasn’t with the Canterlot Symphony anymore. What does she play again? The cello? Double bass? Wait, is that the medium sized violin or the really big one? Ah, fuck if I know. They all look the same anyways. I take another drag from my cigarette. What a fucking life I live. One of my friends is dead, one hates the very thing I do, one’s a fucking mystery, and… Well, shit, that’s all of them. Except for Twitch. My eyes flick to the bar. She hasn’t come out yet. Twitch is right, we are friends. Makes me feel bad for lying to her like this. But Twitch believes in honor. She hates putting personal grudges before the job. I promised her to tell the truth. Might have to break it. Wouldn’t be the first time I did. Sure won’t be the last. A noise makes my ear twitch. Looking up, I see a helicopter flying its regular patrol route. Squinting, I can barely make out the decals that identify it as a Marshal’s Office ‘copter. Faders liked to say that we lived on ‘the murder scene.’ It’s a pretty accurate depiction, I think. The Marshal’s Office says that Dodge Junction is safer than ever now. Wish they’d tell that to ponies who get gunned down every single fucking day. It’s going to take more than them to make a difference here. It’s going to take a helluva lot more than one fucking pony to change things. That’s why I gave up trying to change this place a long time ago. It isn’t ever going to change. The bar door opens. Twitch walks out, a hungry Lowball staggering out behind her. Twitch smirks and points a hoof at the alleyway. Lowball grins and nods. Showtime. I put my cigarette out and back up into the shadows. “Wow. Sounds like you’re good on your hooves,” Twitch is saying.  “That’s not all I’m good with, baby,” Lowball replies. I roll my eyes and sigh internally.  Twitch nods enthusiastically. “I bet you are. Come on, I don’t live far from here…” I wait until she passes. Lowball staggers right past the doorway I’m hiding in, not even looking in my direction. I grin. “Hey, shitbag!” He doesn’t have time to turn around before I slam into his side. Lowball cries out in shock and pain as his head smashes into the gravel. I pin him to the ground with my body weight and stick a hoof in his jacket.  I pull the pistol out of his shoulder holster and hoof it to Twitch. She glances up and down the alley and sighs. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll keep watch.” “Yeah, thanks.” She nods and flies upwards.  “What the shit--who the fuck are you?!” Lowball cries out, hooves flailing. I pull out my knife and press it against his neck. “Not important. Tell me what I need to know, and maybe I won’t break your legs. You carried out a hit on someone named Fading Light. Who’d you take with you?” Lowball sneers at me, his initial shock quickly wearing off. “You think you’re getting away with this, bitch? I’ll hunt you down and fucking kill you!” “Yeah, sure. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I stick the knife in my teeth and grab his right foreleg with my hooves. This one’s gonna hurt. I start bending it backwards, and I feel Lowball’s breath hitch. “Argh--fuck! Bitch!” I can hear the fear creeping into his voice as he realizes what I’m about to do. Twitch says that I have a weird obsession with breaking ponies’ legs. It’s not my fault it’s effective. I apply a little more pressure, and he starts slamming on the asphalt with his free hoof. “You’re fucking crazy!” If it weren’t for the knife in my mouth, I’d laugh at his panic. I keep up the pressure and he screams again. I can almost hear the satisfying crack already. “Fucking wait, wait!” he yells. “What was that fucker’s name again?” I let go of his foreleg with one hoof to holster my knife. “Fading Light. He pissed off your boss, threw him out of his restaurant. Any of this ringing a bell?” Lowball grits his teeth. “That fucker? Tried to pull a fucking gun on me, so we smoked him.” I grab his leg again. “Names, fuckface.” “Rail Spike, Off Speed, and Clear Air!” he says. “But you’re never going to find them!” I roll my eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. Who pulled the trigger?” “The kid! Clear Air!”  I stick the name in my memory bank. “What do they look like?” Lowball prattles off a list of descriptions. Coat colors, mane colors, cutie marks. Everything I need to hunt them down. That just leaves me with one last question: should I break his legs? Just for shits and giggles?  “Killjoy, you done? His friends are looking for him.” I curse, glancing at the bar. Sure enough, the other Vultures are walking out now. They glance up and down the street, frowning and chattering amongst themselves. “Shit,” I mutter. “Well, if we lay low--” “Hey! Over fucking here!” I sigh. Fuck.  Their heads snap over to the alleway. They reach for their guns, but I’m faster. I whip out my pistol, still on top of Lowball. Before I can get a shot off, though, Lowball thrashes hard. I slip off of him and hit the ground.  A gunshot rings through the night, followed by screaming and shouting. The thugs are advancing on us now, pistols drawn. I smash the butt of my pistol into Lowball’s forehead, and he crumples to the ground. More gunshots crack through the night. Bullets whiz by me, and I take to the sky, tumbling onto the roof next to Twitch.  “Took your sweet-ass time,” she grunts as she draws her own gun.  I grunt in response. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I got what I needed, let’s just get out of here.” “You think they’re gonna let us?” Twitch asks sarcastically. Case in point, one of the thugs spreads their wings and flies up towards us, her buddies providing cover. We press our backs against the low wall lining the roof’s edge. Glancing next to me, I spot an empty beer bottle some poor drunkard left behind. I grab it in my hooves and wait until the thug flies up over the wall. The bottle sails out of my hooves and her eyes widen. She throws up a foreleg, the bottle hitting it and shattering. While she’s distracted, Twitch and I spring up and open fire. She screams and falls to the ground. Her body crashes down on top of some poor soul’s car. Hope they have insurance. We hit the deck again as bullets fly over our heads. “You see what I mean?” Twitch shouts. “Every single time we go out, we get shot at!” Before I can reply, there’s the chirp of a siren. Great, the cops are here. “Drop your weapons!” shouts a voice from a loudspeaker. The only reply is more gunfire. I risk a glance over the wall to see two Marshal’s Office cruisers parked on the road, throwing red and blue lights across the street. The cops are crouching behind their doors as the thugs rain hell on them. They might be outnumbered, but not for long. “Now’s our chance,” I say, nudging Twitch. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”  “What? And leave them behind?” Twitch asks in disbelief. I roll my eyes. “Look, just because you’re in bed with the cops doesn’t mean that I am.” Twitch scowls. “Fine! Go then. Run away. I’m staying behind to help them.” I stare at her in disbelief. “You--I… Fine!” I can’t believe her sometimes. Her ‘moral code’ is such bullshit. I spread my wings and hop up, but before I can get far, I’m suddenly blinded by a white light. “Marshal’s Office! Land immediately!” Fuck, I forgot about the fucking helicopter. The rotors are loud and clear now, as the giant metal machine bears down on me. Looking down, I see more blue and red lights speeding down the road. Some of the deputies are pointing at me and yelling. I sigh, holstering my pistol and raising my hooves. Fuck.