//------------------------------// // Reflection Three: Lights and Legends // Story: Fallout: Equestria- The Last Sentinel // by Adder1 //------------------------------// Reflection Three: Lights and Legends “Lust for power does not grow from strength- it grows from weakness.” You know, I talked a bit about the City of Lights and Legends before, but I never really delved into it. Well, let's fix that little problem, shall we? Like I said before, I saw opportunities in getting to know Sunny and Blustery. They had connections, and those connections had connections in turn. So on, so forth. See, (the storyteller leaned back, smiling) I never felt this... power before. I knew the power wealth could bring. I just needed to look out the window of our apartment. I knew the power that physical strength could bring. But this... the power of words, the power to manipulate... this was something completely new to me. The traditional view is that power is something attributable to a person, something that a person can possess in varying amounts. Equinpologists, I later found out, add another layer of meaning to that. They say that power is anything that exerts an energy that can be used to achieve an end. Let me give an example. Back when we still had powered wagons driving around, there was a speed limit that varied depending on the location and terrain. It was in place to prevent automotive collisions, which often seriously injured or killed the parties involved. That said, not everyone heeded this speed limit- I myself am guilty, as charged, of violating it multiple times. So, in some parts, signs would be put up, reading (the storyteller waved his hoof as if marking words on such a sign) “speed limit enforced by radar”. Now here's the thing- you don't know whether or not there actually is a radar transmitter out there measuring your speed. (He smiled.) But you don't want to risk it should there actually be one. So people would abide by the speed limit in that zone. For all you knew, some random guy only had the sign hung up with no radar. But that just sign being there- the exertion of some form of energy- is causing wagon drivers to slow down- the achieved end. Now, I just started realizing that I had power of my own, exerted through words to achieve an end- to beat Sunny at his own game, to bring him to my side, to win over his parents and the district officials barring him, and to gather a circle of supporters. After being so weak, so helpless for so long... this power felt good. And I wanted more. Manehattan was the City of Lights and Legends, and I wanted to be one of those legends. I had the name, I had the anonymity, and I had the power. You know something else that Manehattan was known for? I didn't touch up on it on my big three for a reason, and you might have already guessed it since I only just said it not too long ago- the gangs. “I'm gonna lay down some ground rules,” I began. Our group took up an a whole lunch table at the cafeteria now. Zoleks, as usual, was seated on my right. “We need to keep off the radar as much as possible, and even if we do get noticed, I want us to get noticed the right way. That means no fighting, no trouble. Easy, right?” I looked up and down the table. “Riiiight?” Nods and murmurs of affirmation went left and right. “Good. Now, we- note we- are a pretty small ring right now. We're gonna expand gently. No growth spurts. That's bad for everyone. Just invite your friends for now- friends you can trust. Assembly hall, this weekend. We repeat, shifting gears to bigger venues if needed.” “Well why are we doing this again?” Sunny asked, seated to my left. “I mean, gangs are cool, but...” I waited for a few seconds. “Go on,” I beckoned calmly. “Isn't all this a bit much for kids our age?” Murmurs of agreement filtered through the group as shrugs and nods went left and right. Best fix that. “Look at this way, Sunny. You, me, Zoleks, Bowler, Drift, Wicker- we're seventh graders. We're twelve, thirteen. Blustery, Hammer, Little, Jay, Carry, Song- eighth. They're thirteen, fourteen. In seven more months, we're heading to eighth grade and they're headed to high school. Might not be so bad for Nimble, Pick, Slick, or Ramp, but think about it for a second. At that point, we might start splitting into different schools, maybe even different districts. Manehattan's a big city after all, right? A lot of us are here because of the cheap housing- I know I am. I'm a Northerner. We already know each other right now as friends, but the moment we move on and split up in high school...” I just shrugged and grimaced for a moment, “we're in unfamiliar territory with fewer friends than we'd like, knocked back down to the bottom rung of the ladder. “Admit it- how many of you plan to get into gangs for some reason or the other, whether it be safety in numbers and reputation, financial support, and/or fame?” A lot of reluctant hooves went up. Good. That meant they were willing to trust me with that sort of material. “Well there you go. You're probably going to join a gang that already has-” Zoleks tapped me on the shoulder. “Adult. Chit-chat a bit.” So we started talking amongst ourselves. Me? I went for Sunny. “The Giants really bombed last night. I mean, I only read the newspapers, but Ramp Up was able to watch at his friend's house. Did you get a chance to chat?” “Uh, no, not really.” Sunny shrugged, going with it while the vest-wearing stallion slowly strode on by. “I mean, I know they had a rough start to their season. How bad was it?” “The Baltimare Buckers were up by twenty-one after the first quarter,” I said incredulously. “Can you believe that? Twenty-one! How the hell do you screw up that badly?” The big, orange buck took a bite out of his sandwich and shrugged, shaking his head. Swallowing, he huffed, “I don't know, buck. Coach musta been pissed.” “You bet.” I watched the counselor slip past and out of earshot. Was a noisy place in the cafeteria after all. “Okay, okay, we're good. We're good.” Everyone fell quiet, ears and eyes on me again aside from the watchful Zoleks. “Look, so the majority of you are already looking at joining a gang that already has one or more of those. But let's be realistic for a second. Reputation? More like notoriety. Not sure you want that. Financial support? Well guess what's the first thing a gang's gonna ask after commitment and whatever gimmicks they have? They're gonna ask for your shiny bits. Fame? Okay, I'll entertain that. You'll get fame. You'll also probably get a lot of 'fame'- sorry, infamy from the MPD and rival gangs.” I turned my hooves up and shook my head just a little, giving a look that said 'Come on, really?' “So... you want us...” Blustery Days asked with a cocked eyebrow, “to go with you on this gang of yours, and you want it started now?” “This gang of ours,” I corrected. He gave me a dubious look. I just... smiled. “This thing we're planning to start is something big. I can't do it by myself. Blustery, you know a ton of kids at Lazurian. Sunny, you're way better at money matters than I am- by the way, we should really meet and chat about that sometime. I'd like to know how you do it. Slick? You head to the YMEA center after school. That means you can get connections with the counselors there. Little, your mom's in the PTA. So see, we all have the ability to do something like this.” Let the smile slip now. “I might have come up with the idea, but what it boils down to is that none of us can do it alone. Alone, we're just kids. But together?” Smile, smile, smile. “Together, we can do this. “So! We start now, we can lay down a good foundation. It's like the city itself- we need to build our infrastructure. We expand our influence, keep in contact as we split to different schools and different districts. We rise up from there. That's why the ground rules are so important. We start fights, we start trouble and the MPD is gonna beat our plots down before we can even get off of the ground. The city doesn't want another gang stirring up trouble. So we're not going to stir up trouble. We keep a low profile, maybe do some things to slap a good image on us. Volunteer work, whatever gets us on people's good sides. After that, we can start raking in the bits.” “How, drugs?” Song Spinner scoffed. She was this gorgeous pegasus mare with the silky, black coat and deep-blue mane... and a nice plot. Hey. Come on. I was twelve. Cut me some slack. “Song, we don't even have money to even try that right now,” I told her. With a smile. “We can't afford doing that- either monetarily or legally. Remember, if we start trouble, we invite trouble.” “So what's the plan then, huh?” she asked, crossing her forelegs. I smiled. Wider, that is. “Believe it or not, I found myself thinking the same thing.” I nodded to my zebra companion. “Zoleks here actually came up with the idea. Folks... what is Manehattan?” “The City of Lights and Legends,” Pick Pack, this shorter, dusty pegasus colt huffed. “Yeah, and we want to become legends.” I nodded. “But what comes before that?” “Lights?” Sunny leaned against the table. “What about it?” I chuckled heartily, “Folks, what else is Manehattan known for?” “The nightlife, of course,” Song said. “Of course.” I nodded to her. Then I waited. It clicked to her. “Are you talking nightclubs?” “I'm talking nightclubs.” I was absolutely beaming right now, and I could see my smile reflected back at me as it dawned on them. “Think about it- they're legal, they're plentiful, and they see a lot of business. A lot of repeat business. We can't hit the hardcore ones just yet, but there are some 'juvie-joints' that allow our age group. I'll look into them. We work our way in, we climb to the top. “This is all pretty ambitious.” Hammer, this thick, stocky fellow breathed out a heavy exhale. “Nobody's ever done anything like this before.” “Well.” I smirked. “You gotta think big in a city of giants, and Manehattan is the City of Lights and Legends.” I saw them all smirk in turn amongst one another and I saw the nods from one kid to the other. “So. Any takers?” I heard only affirmations ringing out those next few seconds. Zoleks and I shared a look and a grin before I turned back to them. “Start talking to your friends. Saturday in the assembly hall at three in the afternoon. Let's get this thing started.” And with that, we started heading out for the field, splitting off into our own groups. “You know, we both came up with that idea together,” Zoleks chuckled and elbowed me playfully. I stumbled a little and elbowed him back just as playfully. He didn't budge at all. “Yeah, but I can't keep them thinking that you're the brainless bodyguard, am I right?” “Heh... thanks, Hokkaido.” “No problem.” I caught sight of Sunny and he me. I waved him over. He took a moment to say good-bye to Blustery and was back at my side. “Sup?” “Mind if we walk and talk again after school?” I asked him. “I want to dive into talking about your way with money matters.” He looked hesitant. “Well... I don't know. I mean, algebra's killing me right now...” “How about this- Zoleks is getting killed by algebra, too. Let's meet at Dunwall Park. Bring your books, paper, pencil, and your calculator. I'll help you both out, then we can chat on the way back. Alright?” Now to seal the deal- use their interests against them. “I'll even pay you.” Sunny definitely seemed to mull that over. “How much?” “How does five bits sound?” I offered. “Ten,” he countered. “Eight,” I rebutted. He stood firm. “Ten.” I grinned. “Heh, alright, alright. Ten. You gotta show me how you did that, by the way.” He grinned. “Don't worry, I will.” Always an opportunity in the aftermath, folks. Always an opportunity. * * * Remember what I said about Manehattan? Manehattan never sleeps. It's all about the nightlife. I had a great deal of freedom and independence as a young stallion. After all, by that point, I was not only keeping my grades up but I was also staying out of trouble for a change of pace. My parents were very, very happy about that as you could imagine. They were used to my adventurous nature in any case. I often went out to spend time with my new circle of friends, whether it be to help them with schoolwork or for them to help me in turn. Now that I was so well-behaved all of a sudden, I found my curfew lifted. I could enjoy Manehattan's nocturnal splendor all I wanted. I just had to wake up in time for school on weekdays. Sunny gave me some great bartering advice. Test the waters. Know when to press, know when to ease up. Be firm. Know when to yield. Know when not to yield. To my surprise, he learned most of this from a book I could have easily rented or bought from the library. That was another lesson- look for other options first. Still... The storyteller procures a plain looking book- another memento. This one had the picture of a sunny, smiling stallion in a dusty cap that perfectly matched his equally dusty coat. It was titled Tales of a Detrot Derby Vendor. ... it was a good read. I was no stranger to juvie-joints, these nightclubs catered to a younger audience. Zoleks and I frequented them all the time. You get soda and juice instead of alcohol, and there's no wild stuff. Lyrics, if any, are kid-appropriate or have the bare minimum of innuendo. So Zoleks and I were welcomed as familiar faces by the door bouncer into The Lazy Dog. Upon entering, we traded the moonlit, sparkling venue of the Manehattan streets for a veritable sea of ponies swinging and pumping to the music, bodies turned black and painted in a dazzling array of colors by the strobe lights and beam talismans. The musical movement wasn't limited to the dance floor either- griffins and pegasi took to the air with energetic flair. At the head was a silver pegasus with a black-white mane, a pair of headphones slipped over her ears as she worked the turntables. I visited eleven juvie-jams all over the northern quarter of Manehattan, but those spinsters? They got nothing on DJ H0UND of The Lazy Dog. Her mixes were always pushing that bar of sensuality- hell, the current track was titled “Everypony's Bangin'”. We were all young mares and stallions, feeling those hormones for the first time. We were exploring- just a little- and that was why the place was so popular. Bouncers were always around in case somebody got a little too wild. “Love this mix!” I laughed as I entered, heart racing to beat in time with each thump of those mighty subwoofers. “You and me both, boss!” Zoleks yelled over the crowd. “Hey, I'm gonna have a little chat with the owner! You go on and have fun, alright?” Zoleks eyes followed a pair of mares- one zebra and one pegasus- that sauntered on by. I'll admit, my eyes were following them too. We turned back and smirked at one another. “You sure you don't want to join in?” “Hah! Maybe later! You go on ahead!” I started off, grinning back at him. “Well alright, more for me!” the zebra whooped as he trotted after them. I kept that grin on my muzzle as I made way for the bar, sliding onto an unoccupied stool. I bobbed my head to the beat as the bass dropped. My, my, my... there were a lot of fine-looking mares around. All those swinging flanks... oh hey, come on now. I was twelve. Cut me some slack. Shaking my head, I returned to the task at hand. Fun and flanks- er, games... could wait until after this. I nodded to one of the bartenders. The cream-colored earth pony mare approached me and huffed, “Oh, hey, Hokkaido! What can I get for you?” “Nothing to drink at the moment, Thyme!” I responded over the music. “Been a long day?” “And a long night!” She paused to scoot out of the way of another bartender. “You know how it is here! Always busy as hell!” “LLLanguage!” a younger unicorn filly complained. Thyme breathed out a sigh lost to the music. “You get what I mean! So what're you here for, then? Sightseeing?” “Just want to talk with your manager is all!” I said. “The manager? There a problem or something?” “No, not at all!” I answered. “I just wish to talk business with her!” “Business?” She shot me a dubious expression. “I'm serious here, Thyme! Would you kindly?” She sighed, “Alright, alright! Be right back!” Thyme turned tail- and what a nice tail- and headed toward the back, slipping out of sight. Once she was gone, I started forming my arguments, looking up and down the bar. Yeah, the bartenders definitely had their hooves full, alright. Heh, I already saw Zoleks down at the far end trying to chat it up with the two mares from earlier. A loud cough caught my attention, and I drew my gaze up to a petite griffiness wearing a prim vest. It was the first time I met the manager in person. Time to make an impression. Smile wide, smile with pride. “Thyme tells me you're here to talk business?” she asked. “That I am, ma'am!” I affirmed, reaching out a hoof. “Hokkaido!” “Vani Windfall!” the avian-leonine introduced herself. I already knew her name, though. Sunny always said it helped to know exactly who you were dealing with. “So business? Really, kid? You're kinda, well, a kid!” “I assure you that I am very much serious, Miss Windfall!” I told her, maintaining that smile. “Alright, kid, if you say so!” Vani huffed, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Mind if we talk somewhere quiet and private?” “Not at all, Miss Windfall! Lead the way!” Vani led me to her office, tucked away in the back with enough soundproofing to reduce the roaring music to a dull thump. I wasn't educated enough to know my furniture or furnishing, but from the plush, comfy chairs- one of which she motioned for me to take a seat in- and the smooth, wooden desk, she was enjoying The Lazy Dog's popularity. Which meant she was raking in a lot of bits... Before she had a chance to begin, I started, “You have a very nice office here, Miss Windfall. Nice seats, a nice desk. Now, I'm no real estate agent by any means, but you got a very cozy looking place.” The lithe griffiness let out a soft sigh as she sat down. “It is nice, isn't it?” She set down her palm on the desk and rubbed a little. “This? Imported all the way from Aldorna.” “A lot of workgriffinship must have gone into it,” I remarked. “Yeah.” She nodded. “Earth ponies are damn good craftspeople, but sometimes they're just not the same as a good griffin working her or his tailfeathers off.” She leaned back. “I really don't get to spend a lot of time in here anymore. Normally, I spend it helping out there.” “The Lazy Dog is a very popular juvie-joint.” I nodded in agreement. “Sure is, isn't it?” Vani smiled wanly. It vanished in an instant. “But look, you're here to talk business, right? I mean, that is what this is all about, right? This better not be a prank, kid.” “I assure you that I'm very much serious about this, Miss Windfall,” I told her. “Really?” she huffed. “What are you? Thirteen, fourteen?” “Twelve.” I was still smiling. “Well that's not helping your case at all, is it?” Vani crossed her forelegs. “So what's this all about, then?” “Some of my friends and I are looking for work,” I said. “I was hoping that we would be able to find some here at your fine establishment.” “Work?” She eyed me. “Yes, Miss Windfall.” I nodded. “They as young as you are?” the griffiness questioned. “Yes, between eleven and fourteen, Miss Windfall,” I answered. “You're a Northerner, right? Jeez, that desperate for cash?” Vani sighed. “You all Northerners?” “Not all of us, but there are some,” I said. “Yeesh.” The avian-leonine frowned. “Sorry, kid, but I can't hire you or your buddies. Maybe the fourteen-year-olds, but even that's pushing it. Wait till you're all at least sixteen, okay?” “Is there a problem?” I asked her. “Yeah, regulations. Sorry, kid, but law's law. Unlike Fillydelphia or Stalliongrad, we can't hire kids like you.” “But you could use the help, am I right?” I tilted my head down to look at her with a pleading expression. Vani let out a sigh, “Definitely. I mean, don't get me wrong- I'm proud of my girls and boys. They work their tails off keeping this place running with a full house every night.” “Yeah, I saw that.” I nodded in agreement. “Thyme's not getting a whole lot of respect for it, and come on!” I held out my hooves toward her with an incredulous expression. “You! You're out there working, too!” “Yep,” she said simply. “So why not hire us?” I asked. “Think about it. You'll have more employees to help about, and as a bonus, they're closer to the same age as your patrons. Your employees are good, but let me ask this- other than the DJ, do they get any respect?” “Not as much as I'd like,” Vani answered. “It's because deep inside, we're all rebels. Why are all these kids out late at night partying amongst themselves? Because they're rebels. They don't particularly like authority figures, namely adults. Puts them at odds. Hire younger people to help, and you'll find your employees a lot happier and your customers more at ease.” “But law's still the law,” the griffiness tapped a claw against the desk. “I can't hire you kids. Come back when you're sixteen. Then we'll talk.” Dammit. She wasn't convinced. “Come on now.” Smile... just keep smiling. Getting a bit annoying, but keep smiling... “Do the cops really check in all that often?” “Nope, but I'm not going to risk losing my club because I made the shit decision to listen to some kid and some twit snitches about it,” Vani huffed. “Perhaps we could sign waivers?” I suggested. “Can't even do that. Law's law. Listen, kid, come back to me when you're older, alright? Until then, I'm not hiring any of you.” I opened my mouth to retort, but then she cut me off. “You really gonna keep going at this?” “Yeah,” I replied casually. “Well, you're persistent.” She leaned back. “I'll give you that. Tell you what. Convince the cops that it's okay for me to do that, then we'll talk. Fair enough?” Know when to yield. Know when to yield, even if you don't like it. Something is better than nothing. “Fair enough.” I nodded. “But I'm holding you to that.” “My, my.” Vani smirked. “You're a little businesspony, aren't you, kid? Don't worry. We griffins stick to the contract.” Hm. That was useful information. “Noted. Well, I suppose I'll be seeing myself out then, Miss Windfall. Thank you for your time.” “Hold on, kid.” She grinned. “We haven't drawn up a contract yet.” She started typing away on her terminal. It wasn't Stable-Tec. It was a Belle model, I think. The company didn't come around until during The Great War. Shit, I missed that. Gotta pay attention to those things. “You could've just let me walk out, Miss Windfall.” “I know,” Vani said with a nod as she typed away, “but I want that extra help and respect, and you and your friends want work.” She turned the monitor toward me. “Does it satisfy?” I looked it over. Sunny explicitly stated to read every last line of a contract. Photographic memory definitely helped. Let's see... declare that... will hire Hokkaido and his friends... number unspecified... to work for The Lazy Dog should they reach sixteen years of age... or convince MPD... rate of ten bits per hour. “Two things, Miss Windfall. Sorry to be a bother, but how many are you willing to hire? And eighteen bits on the hour.” She arced an eyebrow. “You need us.” “Fourteen.” The griffiness crossed her forelegs. “Eighteen.” She smirked. “Little businesspony indeed. Eighteen it is. And to your question, that depends. How many of you are there?” “Including myself, there are fifteen of us at the moment,” I answered. “At the moment?” She arced an eyebrow. Whoa, let that one slip out! Uh, shoot. Keep it cool. Just... smile. Don't change tone. Just answer. “Give or take. I'm sure you know how it goes, Miss Windfall.” Vani nodded, typing a few edits in. “Eighteen bits per hour. Fair?” I nodded. “Fair.” And so she printed out the contract, we signed, and we shook on it. The moment we left her office for the world of song and dance and she headed back to work, I dropped my smile and headed back to the bar. I came into the club that night feeling I could convince anyone to do what I want. After that, I left the office with the knowledge that sometimes words couldn't win everything. That later turned out to be a very important lesson to me. Zoleks' smile, however, brought mine back. You know what they say, folks. Smile, and the world smiles with you. Cry, and you cry alone. “So, how'd it go?” I asked the zebra, settling into a seat beside him. “Ehhh, the pegasus wasn't so interested, but the zebra?” He grinned wider. “Heh... I got her number.” “Sounds like I might be seeing less of you pretty soon!” I chuckled. “Don't worry about it, boss! I'll always be there when you need me!” Zoleks pumped a hoof for emphasis. “So what about you? How'd things go?” “Slight hitch in the plan!” I answered. “We'll talk later! For now...” I watched as a lovely flank waltzed on by. “Heh, let's hit the dance floor, Zoleks!” * * * Nope. Not a chance. Who was I kidding, anyway? Who'd want to date the twelve-year-old blank-flank-flunk? Nopony, that's who. Not even a zebra. I guess I didn't expect it anyway. But let's get to more important matters. That weekend, I met up with the other kids interested in this little start-up we had going here. I came in expecting only a few takers. I set the bar high with what I was doing. I wasn't expecting a huge turn-in. What I found was a pleasantly large audience. No, it wasn't huge, mind you, but it was a bit more than I was expecting. I spotted quite a few Northerners out of them. Slanted eyes give it all away. Then there was the fact that there weren't just ponies coming in- there were zebras and griffins too. I personally greeted every single one of them, introduced myself, took down names. Eidetic memory is a wonderful thing in this case. You know why? Because the sweetest sound in any language is the sound of one's own name. Remember, there's a power to the name. It's a two-way street though. Others can use that power as well, and I had the full intention of using all that power. After all that, I got on-stage and I explained to them what we were trying to accomplish and how we were planning to do it. I told them about the juvie-joints, namely The Lazy Dog. And then I discussed the unfortunate hitch in the plan. “Sixteen or older, or we convince the cops to let her hire younger,” I told them, pacing back and forth on the stage, pausing at the end. There was a lot of bitching and moaning from that. I held up my forehooves for a moment. “Hold up, hold up! Let's not make a mountain out of a molehill!” As they started quieting down, I repeated, “Let's not make a mountain out of a molehill. We're starting something big out of all this. Of course there's gonna be some bumps along the road. But we pave our way straight through them. Now, I must ask- any of you sixteen or up?” No responses. “Do any of you have any friends or family sixteen or up? No, not parents or the like. I'm talking siblings, maybe cousins.” A couple nods and some murmuring. “Alright, that's a start? See? Meet me after this. I want to talk to each of you personally about this. Now then. Here's the more important question- anyone have connections with the MPD?" I saw a few hands pop up- only hands. Griffins. Interesting. I grinned. “I definitely want to talk to all of you after this. Which is right now. Thanks for coming, everyone!” I was immediately greeted with the sound of everyone getting out of their seats. “But don't think you should all head out right now! Make friends with one another! Ask around! Get to know one another! Trust me on this one- it'll come in hoofy! Or handy! Take your pick!” I looked around to see those ponies, zebras, and griffins from before head toward me. I waved them over, heading backstage. “For peace and quiet,” I told them. “Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to allow me to speak with all of you. I very much appreciate it. Now... let's get down to business...” * * * “Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to allow me to speak with you, commissioner,” I said with a smile. Just... smile. I was seated in a cluttered office across from a burly male griffin in a barebones uniform. I was alone. Zoleks was waiting outside. I didn't have to be the most perceptive fellow to notice the bags under his eyes and the way he slumped in his seat. His office had a shuttered view of the cubicles beyond on one side and the city outside on the other. “I mean, look at all this paperwork!” I motioned to the desk between us. I could hardly tell it was a desk- so little of it showed up under the stacks of white and black. “Yeah, I know...” he murmured wearily. “Just backed up on work.” He breathed out a heavy sigh. “Now... remind me again exactly what you came here to talk about?” I opened my mouth and paused for a moment before talking- dramatic, yes, but it helps to get the point across. “Commissioner, you understand who I am?” “A Northerner?” the griffin replied. I hate how people often reply with that uncertainty. It's honestly a pet peeve of mine. But don't let it show, Hokkaido. Keep a straight face. “Yes.” I nodded, softening my smile a little to something a little more somber. All in the façade. “Commissioner, I'm sure you can, ah, appreciate how low and how young people will work for when they're desperate. Yes?” “Yes. I can.” He nodded, letting out a sigh as he glanced away. Commissioner Farrow started small, his son told me. I knew he was thinking of himself at this moment. It's easy to get people to agree with you when you have similar histories or interests. “I have quite a few friends, commissioner,” I said softly, letting the smile disappear. “A lot of us are Northerners or are just as poor.” Keep the language simple. Look the part. Sound the part. “And I know my family's not the only one living from paycheck to paycheck. I understand you're really, really, really busy, but could you find it in your heart to help us all out after what we've gone through?” Farrow let out another sigh, leaning back, slumping back. “Twenty million dead, eight million missing. You've gone through a lot, yeah.” He locked eyes with me. “What is it you want?” “I just want to be able to help my family,” I told him, dropping my voice to scarcely above a whisper and lowering my muzzle so that I was able to look up at him with a pleading expression. “A lot of us want to. But we can't.” No, I didn't state it outright. Just dance around it. Let him come to the conclusion himself. “Hm. Too young, huh?” He looked down at me with softened eyes. And there it is. “Only by a few years!” I whined, throwing up my hooves. I let them fall and looked away. All in the façade. “I... I just wanted to know if you could somehow... I don't know, commissioner. I tried to get part-time work at a lot of places- only part-time! I mean it!” Eyes back on him, take a defensive stance. All in the façade. “Don't worry, I'm on your side, kid,” he sighed. I smiled on the inside. I had him. “I really just want to be able to work and help my mom and dad, sir. Same with a lot of kids. Now... we'd move to Fillydelphia or Stalliongrad if we could, but... we don't have the money...” Farrow regarded me for a few seconds. “How old are you, son?” “Twelve...” I said meekly. He inhaled deeply and let it out through his beak. “I'll see what I can push up to the mayor. Twelve sounds like a reasonable cut-off.” “Really?” I brightened up. “Do you mean it?” “I mean it, son. Can you meet me maybe... next Sunday at two P.M.? I think I'll have some time to talk then.” The storyteller held up Lying and Tales. I love these books. I really do. * * * “Alright, settle down and listen up, folks!” I called out, on-stage again in the assembly hall just a few weeks later. I waited for a few seconds as it quieted down. “Now, any of you heard of Prop Four?” I looked around, holding up a copy of today's newspaper. There were a few hooves and hands in the air. “It's a proposition going straight to Mayor Drysdale sponsored by Commissioner Farrow. As you may have noticed, Manehattan has some very, very strict laws regarding child labor. Kids our age can't even deliver newspapers. Not only does that sound a bit excessive, but it's also keeping us from getting off the ground. “Prop Four is going to change all that,” I continued, setting down the newspaper and making slow paces back and forth. I maintained eye contact with at least some portion of the crowd however. “It's going to lower the legal working age in Manehattan from sixteen to twelve. Waivers signed both by the minor and his or her parent or guardian will be required for anyone from twelve to sixteen. Bars, adult nightclubs, police work, and other similarly age-restricted occupations are still off-limits. Seeing as none of us are in high school just yet, it's our best bet to getting work and piling on the bits. If you're going to take anything from this, take this- it's our ticket into the nightclubs, or at least the juvie-joints. “So here's what we're all going to do.” I paused center-stage, glancing from one end of the audience to the next. “When we go home, sometime this week- doesn't have to be today- we talk to our parents,” I corrected myself respectfully, “or guardians. Ask if they've heard of Prop Four. Say we're all willing to work part-time to support the family and tell them it would be in everyone's interest to pass that measure. Granted, it's probably not going to come out in those exact words, but that's okay. Just get it done sometime this week. Let's not do it all at once- that could draw some suspicion. In the meantime, I have some requests for some of you..." I started turning to specific members of the audience. Best way to get people to work for you? Make them feel important. “Sunny, let's meet up sometime. I want to start talking to some of the other juvie-joints around town and get them on same boat. I barely managed to convince the owner of The Lazy Dog, and I could use your expertise.” The big, orange buck smiled proudly and nodded enthusiastically. “Riverrun, your mother is on the city council if I recall correctly. We get her support, things will be a lot smoother for us. I would really like to have a chat after this. Song, I love that idea of yours with the free concert in the park to raise awareness. Let's talk about setting a date, alright?” This went on for several minutes. I worked my way down my mental list of connections. Who knew who, what? Who did this, that? How could he or she benefit this cause, my cause. Finally: “Any questions?” Number Cruncher, a black unicorn who I recognized as a fellow Hokkaidan, raised his hoof. I nodded to him. “So what're we gonna call this gang of ours anyway?” Others started murmuring as if thinking the same thing. I only smiled wider. “I actually had an idea for that.” I glanced about. Pause for dramatic effect... “The Mumei.” Number Cruncher pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, nodding left and right as I saw the rest of the crowd mull it over. I cleared my throat. “If there are any other suggestions, I'm all ears. Otherwise, let's get started.” There were none. And so here we were the Mumei- the unknown, the obscure, the nameless. We were working behind the scenes, striving for what all mumei such as myself strive for. To make a name for ourselves. * * * I loved this new power I held. I felt it each time I spoke before the slowly growing Mumei, the gang which I knew I was the owner of even if I never did tell anyone that. I felt it each time I walked into a juvie-joint with Sunny at my side to reel in a new taker for potential employees. I felt it each time I read the newspapers or happened to stop by a richer friend's home and watch the television, catching coverage or debate over Prop Four. Prop Four, Prop Four, Prop Four- my favorite combination of two words those precious few months. Even if Commissioner Farrow sponsored it, I knew, the Mumei knew, and maybe even some of the business owners knew that it was my plan being hotly debated, argued over. It brought a smile to my lips seeing Northerners, zebras, and griffins advocate it and the aristocrats and school faculty berate it. It was something I created, something I had a deliberate hoof in, something that was undeniably mine. And it was everywhere I looked- in print, on screen, in the air. Whether Manehattaners knew it or not, I held power over them already. The lower and middle class and business owners supported me, and the rich and the schools feared me- even if they didn't realize it. I commanded both their fear and their respect. I was twelve years old, and I loved having this new power. (The storyteller leaned closer with the right side of his face turned toward the crowd, grinning wide.) I know this is a Wasteland where none of this matters in the least, where we have to fight for our next meal and fight for our lives. But think on it a moment. Think on all that. I hope I'm scaring you with how I saw things back then, even if just a little. I, for one, know that looking back, I'm appalled. I know I might be smiling right now, but don't let it fool you. I'm straight-up horrified. I'm serious. I'm really serious. You ever hear that saying about power? Now give all that power to an impoverished twelve-year-old who's been kicked around like a piece of trash and who just realized he is really, really good with words. (That wide grin disappeared, that one eye facing toward the crowd wavering shakily.) I'm straight-up horrified. The storyteller picked up Lying and Tales, looking over them with flattened lips and wide eyes. He looked back at the audience. Sometimes I hate these books. He tossed them back down. I really do. The storyteller breathed out a deep, chilly sigh as he leaned back with his eyes locked onto the ceiling. Just give me a bit. (Another sigh.) Just give me a bit. He looked back toward the audience. Remember how Azrael said she really didn't like who I was as a kid? (As he said this, he nodded to a very particular member of the audience- an older griffin. Roanoke likewise glanced in that direction.) I think that's an understatement. * * * Alright, okay. We're going on with this. I promised myself, I promised Her, I promised Rig. We're going on with this. No, Roanoke, we're going on with this. Just... just give me a bit. Alright. Okay. Okay. He took a deep breath. And... All this started in November of that year, mid-November. Voting took place in the spring of the following year. We had plenty of time, as you could imagine, to consolidate support for Proposition Four. By the time I hit thirteen- I was born in the winter, you recall- I could start going places where I couldn't before. Northerners, immigrants, the lower and middle classes, business owners... (The storyteller made a casual sweeping motion with his hoof and leaned closer.) They'd be idiots not to support the bill. Do you know who that left? That left schools, and that left the Manehattan elite. Those were the ones who garnered the support to put the age restrictions in the first place, and they were the ones that would be dead-set on making what I saw as my birthright, what I saw as undeniably mine... fail. I was a cocky colt, you understand. I was still riding high on how far I'd risen from blank-flank-flunk coltcuddler hothead. School faculty? Aristocrats? Those were the minority. They made up one, two percent of Manehattan. In a game of numbers, they couldn't possibly compete with the bottom ninety-eight, ninety-nine, right? (The storyteller looked from one end of the audience to the other.) Right? Murmurs, most in affirmative, fluttered softly through the air in a low din. Heh, thought as much. Then you'd be just as surprised as I was back then when I learned they could. “Are you... seriously... fucking kidding me?!” I tore the newspaper away, sending the scraps of paper to the floor. Zoleks, Sunny, Blustery, Song, Hammer- all of us quote-unquote 'ringleaders' were gathered in one of the city's many parks, seated at the benches. And I was pissed. “Fifty-one percent against? Against?!” “Hey, Hokkaido...” Zoleks pat my back in consolation. “Let's chill and try to think about this for a second...” “Two months!” I shot back at him, eyes ablaze. “Two months until voting week, and this happens?” I grabbed the newspaper header that I just seconds ago sent flying away in a fit of illogical rage. The others refused to lock eyes with me, glancing nervously away. “How does that even work? They make up one, maybe two percent of the population! How does that even work?!” Blustery cleared his throat. “Uh, Hokkaido...” “Okay, how does that work?” I looked at the earth pony buck. “Tell me. How does that work?” “Well, this is out of registered voters,” Blustery said carefully. “You have to remember that anyone under eighteen can't vote. You also have to remember that only registered Equestrian citizens can vote.” I felt the color drain from my face in realization, mouth agape. “That means that a good number of our supporters can't actually vote, period. Practically all Northerners are full citizens by now, but what about immigrants from other countries? It's enough to make a difference.” “B-But that still doesn't explain everything,” I stammered, still at a loss. I might be creative, I might be a bit smarter than average, but I wasn't brilliant by any means. The others were more at ease now that I had dropped to a more civil tone. Song, that lovely pegasus mare, spoke up, “Hokkaido, who gets the most media coverage?” I looked at Sunny and remembered what he and Tales taught me. “The people who can pay for it.” I took that all in as everyone else looked at me in worry and perhaps a bit of anxiousness. Then it clicked and I facehoofed hard. “I'm an idiot...” “Sorry to say, Hokkaido, but she's right,” Sunny sighed, patting me on the back. He along with Zoleks managed to perk me up a little and made me let my hoof fall. “When it comes to media and advertising, it's down to the business owners who support us and the aristocrats who don't, and in the end, it's the elite that win this battle. Sure, there are a shit-ton of businesses that want Prop Four to pass, but there are also a shit-ton who get most of their revenue from the aristocrats.” “And that combined with the slight deficit of registered voters... fuck,” I hissed, leaning back in my seat. “Well, look on the bright side,” Zoleks said. “It's only two percent that they're winning by. It's still close, even if we were winning up until now.” “Yeah.” I nodded. “Yeah, you're right. Okay, okay... think... think...” I breathed out a sigh. “Schools don't want Prop Four to pass because they think it'll reduce students' time spent on homework, and aristocrats just don't want poorer kids working for them out of... some... misplaced sense of privilege or cleanliness or role model...ness. I don't know, their arguments are just plain shit.” I looked at Blustery. “We need those swing voters.” Blustery nodded right back at me. “I can get Pick to help with this. He knows this guy who knows this guy who's in civil services. We'll try to squeeze out as many registered voters for this as we can.” “Or at least those who we know will support Prop Four,” I added. “Yup.” “The Manehattan elite likes our free park concerts if anything,” Song offered, “so maybe I can get them to support us. I don't know. It's a long shot, but every little bit helps, especially since we're talking two percent here.” “Business is something I understand,” Sunny spoke up. “I can take some of my boys and talk around with some of the iffy businesspeople.” I thought for a bit. What else could I do...? “Boss?” Zoleks poked me in the shoulder. “Boss.” “Hm?” I looked at him. He grinned. “You're smiling that way again.” And indeed I was, and slyly. “Well, I've always wanted to give the section on demoralizing a try.” I looked back at our little group of ringleaders. “We can still do this.” They all nodded and grinned back at me. “We will do this. We still have two months. Let's get to work.” * * * Demoralizing opponents is another concept Lying taught me. You see, when stacked against insurmountable odds, people tend to cave. It's the same way with war. You don't need to be Sun Zoo to realize that it's not about completely wiping out your opponent. Often, you don't want to do that. It's about throwing punches and kicks at one another until one side decides it's had enough and backs down. Morale plays a key role in this sort of battle. If you feel you can't win, you won't try to win. That's the type of game I was playing with the aristocrats and school board members who were pumping bits into tearing Prop Four a new one. It took Blustery, somepony fascinated by political science and somepony who would eventually become a city council member, to make me realize that this wasn't purely a game of numbers I was playing, or at least numbers of voters. There's money involved. There's interest groups involved- the Mumei were one of them. What I did to the aristocrats when I talked to was strip all that away. I couldn't talk to them directly. Those stuck-up bastards wouldn't even so much as let me stain their doormats with my dirt-poor filth, or so they saw. (The storyteller leaned forward, looking from one end of the audience to the other.) Do you know what happens when you take away the face? Nobody knows who you are, and that unsettles people. The imagination takes over from there. We fear the unknown. And fear muddles the imagination. Some of you maybe have had the luxury of talking on a two-way radio. You often know the person on the other side. You link a voice to a name or a face that you know. What happens when you take all of that away? When you look for lies or deception, either you have the facts, or you have a face to look after. You look for an awkward glance, a twitch of the mouth or brow, a tug of the cheek maybe. What happens when you take all of that away? * * * “Hello?” a dainty, female voice asked on the other side of the telephone. “Evening,” I greeted in turn. “Is this Missus Orchard I'm speaking to?” By this time, I was glad that my voice had deepened considerably- enough to make some people think I'm much older than I really was. And over the phone? That's what counted. “Yes, it is. To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking to?” “Someone interested in your level of political clout.” “Yes, but may I know your na-... really now? How so?” “I understand you fervently oppose Proposition Four.” “Yes, quite correct. Would you like to donate to our cause?” “No.” I hung up. * * * “Hello?” “Evening. Is this Missus Orchard I'm speaking to?” “Yes... are you the same, rude... pony... person... thing from last night?” “'Thing'. I like that.” “Well if you don't wish to pledge a donation to our cause, I don't see why we should be having this conversation.” “You're still on the line, aren't you?” “...” “You're still on the line. Aren't you?” “...” “Don't take me for an imbecile, Missus Orchard. I know you're still listening if there's no ending tone.” “I'm not interested in this conversation anymore.” “Yet you're still here.” “... what is it you're calling me for?” “Do you like money, Missus Orchard?” “Why... yes. I'm sure everypony likes money.” “And yet I understand you're top contributor to the opposition of Proposition Four.” “... how did you know that?” “Political disclosure. It pays to have friends in high places. Now, if you like money so much, why do you throw it away?” “Throw it away? Whatever do you mean?” “Have you checked the polls?” “Why yes, the support and opposition for Prop Four are neck-and-neck at fifty percent. I certainly don't think I'm throwing away my money.” “You're sure? It was only two weeks ago that you managed to secure fifty-one percent against Proposition Four. The measure was placed on the ballot over three months ago. It had the majority up until that point.” “What are you getting at?” “That you can't hope to win. You've lost over three million bits personally so far. There's still two months ahead. Think you'd like to lose some more?” “I'm fairly certain we can make a comeback, whoever you are.” “Really? You're an aristocrat?” “Of course. If you don't even know that, then I don't even see why I should be-” “You're still talking to me. And aristocrats make up one percent of the population of Manehattan. You can't hold back the other ninety-nine. It's inevitable. You've already lost your lead.” “What... but... we can still win! We just need more-” “Do you honestly think throwing money at the problem will make it go away? You haven't even so much as spoken at a gala concerning the opposition.” “But I'm not the only one. We will win.” “And if you do? Have you seen how many people want Proposition Four to pass? You've seen the parades downtown, I'm sure. Or maybe you've heard of them at least. “Yes. Where are you going with this?” “What do you think will happen should- let's entertain your ill-conceived notion for a second- Proposition Four fail to pass? They're going to look for someone to blame.” “What? You can't honestly suggest that they'll riot!” “Those who worked under the robber-barons of The Gilded Age would say otherwise.” “Well... the... the police will stop them!” “Who's sponsoring Proposition Four? “Hm? Why it's Police Commission...er... Farrow...” “And Councilmare Fletcher.” “...” “Do you know how to tell if someone's still on the line?” “Wh-What...?” I hung up and let the ending tone ring. * * * I sat down on my bed, munching away at my breakfast cereal- no milk- while simultaneously getting ready for school. Mother was seated right next to me, reading the newspaper. “'Aristocrat Verbally Lashes Police',” she read aloud with an elderly, lighthearted chuckle, each syllable coming out deliberately. “'Grape Orchard, Esquire flings wild accusations at the MPD.' Now what would have possessed the mare to do that? That's not going to help her image.” “Huh.” I looked over her shoulder at the article. “No idea.” Again. Horrified. * * * Two months later, I stepped into The Lazy Dog at two in the morning- right after closing time. The place was lit with a dim backlight. No more strobes, no more beam talismans. Not even any music. DJ H0UND herself was packing up and getting ready to head home while the scattered employees began cleaning the club up. “Well if it isn't the little businesspony!” Vani grinned wide as she approached me. “Nice little landslide victory you got for yourself, kid.” “Miss Windfall, I'm quite sure that it was Commissioner Farrow and Councilmare Fletcher who sponsored that measure,” I said with a smile. “Oh come on now, kid,” the griffiness huffed and stood before me. “You come in asking for work for you and your friends, I tell you you'll either have to wait until you're older or get the police on board for this, and then out of nowhere the commissioner sponsors a bill like that? You and I both know who was really pulling the strings.” I smiled wider. I loved that power. “Guilty as charged.” “Heh, well you know you only needed to secure it for you and your pals, right?” Vani asked. I leaned forward a little. “Miss Windfall, you have to think big in a city of giants. I aim high and shoot high. Even if I miss, I'll land among the stars.” “Not a bad saying to work by. Speaking of which, you came here to work.” She motioned toward her office. “Let's get that contract and the new forms signed. You and all your friends ready to get started tonight? I need the place cleaned up.” “That depends.” “On?” I stamped a hoof down. The doors burst open, letting in a crowd of fifty ponies, griffins, and zebras that all took up position behind and beside me. Zoleks was to my right again, and I shared a grin with him. I smirked as Vani wore a dumbfounded expression. “You have enough mops?” * * * Footnote: Hokkaido- Level Up! Level 3 Reached! Perk added: Scoundrel (Rank Two)- Take the Scoundrel perk, and you can use your wily charms to influence people- each rank raises your Speech and Barter skills by 5 points. Skills note: Barter- 50 Zoleks- Level Up! Level 3 Reached! Unlockables added: Soundtrack- Everypony's Bangin' by DJ H0UND Soundtrack- Power