//------------------------------// // Cruelty // Story: Departure // by daOtterGuy //------------------------------// “Princess Twilight’s tattletails.” The cutesy nickname given to all of the Abyssinians that turned traitor and ratted out their criminal accomplices to the Princess once she gained a foothold in the region. Any creature that belonged to the tattletails or had been low-ranked in the bigger oragnizations were granted a blanket pardon by the Princess for any previous actions.  This was particularly beneficial to those that had belonged to the various gangs of Klugetown, the organized groups of criminals that ran all of the major smuggling operations. Organizations had been anywhere from twenty to a hundred strong, and not a single member could have claimed to have been clean. With the gang leaders arrested and the slate wiped, many of those members were able to move on with nothing to hold them back.  Or protect them when things took a bad turn.  One might wonder what any of this had to with a wounded stallion in a back alleyway, but, for those in the know, it was the crux of a common tragedy that occurred in modern Klugetown. Many of the tattletails had been tryhards on the low end of the ladder, trying to get ahead. When everything had been taken over by the Princess — an event that Capper had greatly benefitted from — those schmucks became the new wealthy aristocats. They were elevated out of their lackluster standing and into positions of absolute power, and they all remembered their lives from before. It was easy to picture what happened next. Newly defunded goons who had held solid footings in the organization were ripped out of their comfy positions and dropped into the streets without the protection they had all once benefited from. They would wander from paycheck to paycheck, homeless and with no future to strive towards. By terrible coincidence, one of their past underlings would see them.  Maybe the goon had always been in a bad mood in the before times. Maybe they’d gotten high off the power they’d had over others. Maybe they’d liked to vent by beating up those that couldn’t hit back. Whatever the reason, their prior victim always recognized them. A myriad of emotions would overtake them. First, it would be fear. It was hard to forget what had been instilled bruise by bloody bruise over the years. Shortly thereafter, they would realize they weren’t that creature anymore. Satisfaction would envelope them as they mused on their new position and wealth. How far they had raised their own social standing. Finally, they would realize that the goon that had once terrorized them couldn’t do anything to them anymore. An opportunity for payback would present itself. So, the past victim would round up their new paid staff that hadn’t quite lost their edge from the old days, then proceed to beat the snot out of the guy that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time until they were bleeding out in some alleyway. Afterwards, the victim would die, or they would miraculously survive and live forever in fear of being found again.  “So, to summarize,” Capper recited in a bored tone as he leaned back in his chair, “you got yourself beat up by one of your past victims, were left for dead, and now you’re in a hospital.” “That's… exactly what happened,” the stallion, whose name Capper didn’t know and didn’t bother to ask for, said in reply. There was a slight rasp to his voice, presumably from the pummelling he had taken. “But I still don’t get how the tattletails or mass pardon have anything to do with me getting beat up by that loser.” Capper sighed as he massaged his temples in annoyance. It was always frustrating how those that he helped never had good social awareness.  “Alright, let’s go through this piece by piece. What are you planning to do now?” “Get revenge,” the stallion replied, a prideful grin on his face despite the massive bruising that puffed up his face. “You can’t,” Capper stated bluntly. The stallion tilted their head to one side, confusion clear on their face. “Why not? I just need to find the jerk and pound him.” “Except they won’t be by themselves. It was Henny, right?” The stallion nodded. “He’s one of the wealthiest amongst the aristocats, he has the best paid protection in Klugetown and there’s no way you’ll get through a contingent of highly trained mercenaries.” “Oh.” The stallion looked despondent before he had another idea. The same idea that every victim before him had. “I can blackmail the jerk!” He pounded both his hooves together, wincing in pain from the impact.  “For what?” Capper asked. “Henny helped with the bigger smuggling operations in our old gang,” the stallion said, drawing himself up with a hateful grin, “I can nail him for all the drug runs he did for me. That’ll teach’em!” “Except for the blanket pardon,” Capper added. “As per the Princess, you can’t peg any prior gang member for their crimes prior to the pardon, and I doubt you are in the know enough to be able to get Henny on something recent.”  “That explains what the pardon has to do with this,” the stallion muttered before raising his voice. “If I can’t do that, how do I get back at him?”  “As I said before, you don’t,” Capper replied, a hard look in his eyes. “You keep your head down, you avoid anywhere Henny might be, and you get to live quietly in obscurity.” The stallion hung his head, fear finally beginning to settle onto his features. Capper counted silently down from thirty in his head. Everything they’d talked about had gone exactly as it usually did, so there was no reason for Capper to think that this time would be any different. As he reached zero, a light bulb went off in the stallion’s head, his ears perked, eyes sparkling in glee as he came up with his brilliant “original” idea that matched every conclusion made by those in his position.  “What if I had the help of someone higher up the chain to help me?” the stallion declared. Exasperation settled into Capper’s features as he released a weary sigh, tired with how predictable these conversations were. “And who exactly would that be?” Confusion clouded the stallion’s face, apprehension growing as he tensed in his hospital bed, already sensing that he wouldn’t like the direction of their conversation. “You?” “And what made you think that?” Capper dryly replied.  “Because you saved me?” the stallion said, some desperation colouring his voice, “I thought that, since you had helped me so far, that—” “I needed an excuse to leave that awful party,” Capper lied. “You were simply a coincidental convenience for me. Nothing more.” “So, you’re not going to help me?” the stallion asked. “No,” Capper said, his tone broaching no room for argument. “What if Henny finds me again?” “Run,” Capper answered bluntly, “or don’t be found. In either instance, it is no longer my problem.” The look on the stallion’s face was one he had encountered with every victim he had saved in the past. Incomprehension at what they perceived as nonsensical behaviour on his part. Like they were playing a game, but Capper was using a different set of rules that he had neglected to inform the other of. Regardless, the repetitive conversation had run its course, and Capper had no more reason to be there. He walked out of the room, not sparing a single glance back. He traveled  through the unforgiving halls of the hospital and out into the equally unforgiving town. Standing just outside the building were several thugs. The biggest, presumably the leader, gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement. He didn’t deign to give a response as he continued on his way. After a short while, he glanced back over his shoulder to see the thugs enter the hospital. The backs of their jackets sported the crest of Henny’s house.  As it always did, the tragedy had played to its conclusion with only a small interlude to put off the finale. Capper’s involvement left a sour taste in his mouth at the cruelty he had inflicted on the stallion. He had already known that Henny would finish the job. Grudges ran deep amongst their lot, and it sickened Capper that he had given the stallion some measure of hope, only for it be taken in the cruelest of ways. Why bother saving someone who couldn’t be saved? It would have been a greater kindness to have left the stallion to die. At least then Capper wouldn’t feel like such a monster.