//------------------------------// // Mare with Wheels // Story: Asphalt and Trouble // by Coconutswallow //------------------------------// Trouble. If there was one thing Applejack learned in her early years it was that trouble comes when it’s least expected. So her solution was to always expect it. She was good at doing that. She had the instincts for it. She wouldn’t still be alive if she didn’t. But there’s some trouble that will always spring you from behind. Things that blindside you with such force that you have no choice but to let it roll over you. That has yet to happen to Applejack, but there was one time it got close... There was nothing but beautiful, endless road ahead of her. The desert wind rushed against her mane, brushing up into the sleeves of her jacket and running down her back. There was no sound but the running of her bike’s motor and of those behind her. It was times like these that Applejack felt she could almost be poetic. She was leading a herd of free spirits, of souls who didn’t care for their destination but wanted to enjoy a journey. They were wild, untamed animals of the road. They traveled light, took only the jobs they needed and never bent to life’s rules. Where was a pen and paper when she needed it? She broke from her introspection when she spotted something down the road, an obstruction. She gained on it and her eyes narrowed. It was a hover-car, what’s more, a hover-limo, some sort of bigwig taking up space on her road. The thing was an absurdly large and its polished, plastic, white exterior gleamed in the sun, just asking to be taught some respect. She decided to oblige. With a rev of the motor and a jerk back on the handles, her bike jumped off the ground, finding purchase on the back of the limo. She was pleased to find the car long enough for her to enjoy the superior view for a few moments before quickly descending down across the hood, lining her bike up perfectly to knock of its fancy ornament before returning to her asphalt territory. With the pecking order established, she slowed down waiting for her gang to catch up before pushing her bike back into cruising speed. As much as she wanted to return to enjoying the open road, they were fast approaching their brief stopping point of the day. They had a score to settle and a bar up the road was the mutually decided on battlefield. A small wooden building by a rock outcropping appeared on the horizon. It had the word Kickstand printed in black on a wooden sign above its entrance, a feature that did nothing to make its drab, grey exterior anymore inviting. She made her way to the flat dirt patch in front of it that passed as a parking lot.  She got off her bike and gave her legs a few quick stretches while she watched the rest of her gang pull in. Decked in leather and with their tough faces on, they looked more than ready for the fight ahead of them. She had little doubt some serious rump was going to be kicked in the next hour. She led them into the bar to wait for their rivals. The inside of the joint was everything she expected given its shabby outside. There were a few tables and chairs that looked like they had seen better days, a piano that looked broken, and a few fake stuffed animals combined with pointless pictures on the walls to rob the place of any decorative theme. Not that she minded. She had never been in the place before, but it was no worse than any other bar she had ever been in, and that was good enough for her. She walked up to the brown stallion with piercings all over his face who seemed to pass as the bartender of the place. “What can I getcha?” he asked, watching all the other ponies take seats around his bar. Applejack gestured at her companions. “A round of beer for everypony here.” The bartender’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Score! Finally, some real money.” He started pulling mugs out from under the counter. “Yeah, the last of it,” said Applejack, frowning as she emptied her pockets onto the counter. “So I guess your not gonna order three more for your favorite advisor?” She rolled her eyes. The Russets didn’t have any sort of formal hierarchy beyond her being the leader, but there was one who liked to think he was second-in-command. “Ah’m thinking about ordering none for you, Braeburn. I remember our last scuffle. Ah’m surprised any of your ribs survived. You need to be as sharp as you can be.” “Psh.” Braeburn shook his head. “Everypony here knows that you fight better with some drinks loosening your joints.” He grabbed a mug in his hooves as two were passed down the bar. “How many of ‘em do ya think there’ll be, anyway?” Applejack shrugged. “Ah’d say about twelve. Nothin’ we can’t handle.” Braeburn nodded. “That’s not too bad. Though you know how long it’s been since that last fight. Might be a bit rusty.” “That’s only cause no one’s been dumb enough to mess with us till now.” Applejack’s mouth turned to a lopsided grin. “We have this in the tank.” “Alright, which one of you ran over my car?” Silence crept over the bar as everyone turned to look at a lone stallion standing at the doorway. The wrinkles around his eyes and spots of grey in his deep blue mane betrayed his age. He scanned the room, giving everyone a hard stare. “That’d be me.” Applejack took a swig of her beer, slammed it onto the bar, and turned to look the stallion dead in the eye, swiping her foreleg across her mouth. He walked slowly up to her. “Why did you do it?” The bar filled with the sounds of rustling leather. Applejack waved a hoof at her gang, easing them down. There was no need for violence yet. “It was in my way. Ah made my point, mister. Ah’d suggest you just continue on your merry way. Ah’m not lookin’ to cause anymore trouble with you.” The stallion’s hard stare slowly gave way to a smirk. “I like your style. Not looking to rough up anyone who doesn’t deserve it but still making it clear who's in control of the roads around here. What gang do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Applejack cocked an eyebrow at the change of demeanor in the stallion. “This here is the Russets. I’m the leader of the gang, Applejack.” “The Russets? Well I’ll be.” The stallion stepped back and looked at everypony. “I guess no one’s left from before. I don’t recognize any of you.” Applejack tilted her head slightly. “You knew the gang from before?” “Sure did.” The stallion took a seat next to her. “Got in a few tiffs with them, even. Nothing serious, just me and Gala butting heads.” “Wait just a second. You knew the old lady?” Applejack leaned in closer to the mysterious newcomer. “Sure did. I used to cruise the roads without a care, too, back in the glory days.” The stallion grinned from ear-to-ear. “Saw quite a bit of her. Usually when I was in trouble.” “Cut the gas!” Braeburn slammed the counter with his hoof, leaning over to look at the stallion past his leader.  “You’re—” “Crescent Sparkle! Glad to meet you!” Crescent waved. Applejack tilted her hat up and sat back in her stool, her eyes wide. She thought back on the few pictures she had seen of the legendary figure and it clicked into place. Braeburn turned to his companions. “Hey, ya’ll, this here is Crescent Sparkle! The one and only!” The occasional narrow glances that shot in the stallion’s direction instantly turned to raised-eyebrow stares. Applejack could sense a stampede about to happen and decided to get the drop on it. She raised a hoof up and held it in front of her. “Now ya’ll don’t be crowding him. We’re honored to have him here but ya’ll just cool your engines.” Crescent chuckled and nodded at the bikers before turning back to their leader. “Thanks. I think I might be getting too old to be crowded around. Besides, I’m no celebrity.” “Maybe not a celebrity,” said Applejack, “but ya’ll have nothin’ but the highest respect from us. Your bikes are all anyone uses around here, and not just because you’re one of the last left. They’re quality. You made ‘Sparkle’ a name worth havin’ on a bike.” Crescent snorted and let out a short laugh. “Yeah, that was a tough sell. My wife tried to convince me that I needed to rename the company but I told her that I wasn’t going to make anything I didn’t get to put my name on. It was an uphill battle at first, but I earned that name some recognition.” Applejack smiled. “No name meaner on the roads.” She waved over the bartender. “Hey, I need some whiskey for my friend over here.” “Oh, thank you, but I can’t stay long I’m afraid.” Crescent leaned his foreleg on the counter. “I actually wanted to make a business proposition.” With a bang, the door to the bar flew open, revealing yet another older pony, this time a light blue mare with another graying mane. She wildly looked around the bar until her eyes landed on Crescent. “Mr. Sparkle, they got her!” “What?” Crescent jumped to his hooves. The mare pointed frantically out the door. “A gang of bikers just pulled in and kidnapped your daughter!” With a gasp, Crescent ran outside. Applejack was close on his tail. She was just in time to look down the road and see the stragglers of the retreating gang. The big wheels on their bikes were unmistakable. “Rottwheelers!” she cursed. “We’ve got to go after them!” yelled Crescent, already making his way to the door of his limo. “But…” The older mare hesitated before getting into the car. “Isn’t that dangerous?” “Not if we come along,” Applejack spoke up. “Thank you!” Crescent nodded at Applejack and urged his companion into the hovercar. It lifted off the ground and zipped down the road. Applejack ran back into the bar. “Alright, Russets, mount up! Damn dogs we were supposed to beat the tar out of just ran off with Sparkle’s daughter. We’re goin’ after ‘em!” With speed that did their leader proud, the gang launched from their seats and ran to their bikes. She led their charge, hopping onto her bike and sticking the key in the ignition, but instead of getting a thrill from the beautiful startup of the bike’s engine she became confused at the simple, ineffectual click. Her gang’s bikes roared to life around her. She tried again. Click. Braeburn pulled up next to her. “What’s wrong?” “It’s not startin’.” Applejack clenched her teeth. “Go on, get after ‘em! I’ll catch up as soon as I fix it.” With a nod, Braeburn made a motion for the rest of the gang to follow him. Dirt kicked up around the parking lot as the gang sped out. “Come on, McGhee, what’s the matter?” Applejack patted her bike as she tried the ignition one more time. “It’s been a victim o’ payback.” Before Applejack even had time to turn around, a large force pushed her off her bike. Her chin slammed into the ground. Something dug into her side and pushed her, rolling her onto her back. “Deadpaw?” Applejack gaped. There was no mistaking the mangled left paw of the large bulldog standing over her, not to mention the color scheme of his fur, which made it look like he had just rolled around in mud and jumped in a pile of fertilize. She wrinkled her nose. Maybe he actually did that. “O’ course it’s me.” Deadpaw flashed his toothy, yellow grin. “I gotta grudge to settle. Ya think I was gonna run off with the rest o’ mine without finishin’ business?” “What business?” Applejack threw her hooves up. “That was a long time ago.” Leaning forward, Deadpaw’s smile disappeared. “Not long enough. You hurt my bike.” “You hurt mine first!” Applejack returned the scowl. “Yeah, but you were askin’ fo’ it. So I decided to return the favor.” “How did ya even know which one was mine?” Deadpaw let out a short laugh and glanced at her bike. Applejack didn’t know what he was looking at. It was just a standard Legacy model Sparkle… with six large exhausts fanning out from the back of it and flanking the seat. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Guess it was kinda obvious.” “Yeah, jus’ a bit. Now, back ta business.” Deadpaw lifted his leg and slammed it down at her head. He was a slow one. Applejack had plenty of time to catch his paw and push it back, throwing him off balance and sending him to the ground. She used the opportunity to get to her hooves and put some distance between them. “What did you do to my bike?” “Just relieved it o’ some essentials.” Deadpaw got up and bared his teeth. “No worse than what you did to mine.” “Ah just removed its seat. It still ran fine.” Applejack put her bike between them and they started to slowly circle around it. “And did ya forget? You slashed mah tires!” “You parked it outside Rottwheeler territory, what’d you think happen?” Deadpaw snorted. “That wasn’t your territory and ya’ll know it! You just have no respect for boundaries.” “Oh get off it! You were just bein’ stoopid, and nobody messes wit’ my bike, no matter what.” Applejack shook her head. She didn’t know why she expected to get anywhere reasoning with a Rott. “Well?" She stopped moving and stared him down. "What are ya gonna do about it?” Deadpaw growled and planted a paw on Applejack’s bike to launch himself over it. She didn’t want to do it but it was the best move. She shoved the bike over as soon as the paw touched. With no purchase, he fell forward and tasted dirt. She stood over him waiting for him to roll over. Just as he did she planted a hoof in his nose. It responded well to the attack and droplets of blood shot onto his face. There was a yelp. She shot her other hoof at his muzzle but Deadpaw brought his mangled paw up to block it. He launched his other at her face. She quickly rolled to the side and got to her hooves, watching the mutt right himself. “There’s more where that came from, sugarcube. Now why don’t ya be a good dog and forget about this stupid grudge?” Deadpaw wiped the blood from his nose. “Not a chance. I haven’t even drawn blood yet.” He sneered. “Look, Deadpaw,” said Applejack, lowering the brim of her hat, “if ya don’t back down now and fix my bike then your paw isn’t goin’ to be the only thing mangled.” Chuckling, Deadpaw lowered his head and ran at her. Applejack rolled her eyes. So predictable. She ducked to the ground and felt the dog’s leg trip against her mid-section. She got up and turned her tail to him. Looking back, she waited for him to recover. Just as he got back up she planted her two front hooves into the ground, lifted her backside, and shot her two back hooves straight into the dog’s face. There was a satisfying crunch and she heard a hard thump as something large hit the ground. She shook her head as she walked up to him, making sure he was unconscious. If the rest of the Rotts were as unskilled as Deadpaw then there would be no fight to participate in when she caught up with her gang. That was disappointing. On a hunch, she walked around to the back of the bar and found Deadpaw’s bike, just as big and ugly as she remembered it, not unlike its owner. Searching the satchel on the bike, she found two spark plugs and the wrench used to remove them. Simple, but effective. Not something she would have expected from Deadpaw. She continued to root around and when she found a funnel, a sudden thought came to her. She unscrewed the bike’s gas cap, stuck the funnel in, grabbed several hoof-fulls of sand and dirt, and dumped them into the tank. She was tempted to take out its fuel filter too but she didn’t have time and even a Rott bike deserved a little respect. She quickly got to work making her bike whole again. Sucking in a deep breath, she stuck the key in the ignition and the engine came to life. Whispering a thank you, she sped down the road. With a long head start to catch up on, Applejack had time to think. Why would the Rottwheelers kidnap Sparkle’s daughter? They’ve been known to do some of the craziest things out of any of the gangs in the Sinks but kidnapping? They had to know who she was and planned on ransoming her. At least that made some sense. Applejack’s mouth twisted. Still, why do it in front of such obvious witnesses in a situation that you could only barely get a headstart? The Rotts were pretty dumb but not complete idiots. Was there a reason they wanted to keep her behind or was it just Deadpaw’s idea? Shaking her head, Applejack decided that there was not much to go on. She just had to catch up with her gang in time to help. As she put her goggles on and cranked her bike up to full speed, she couldn’t help feeling that she was about to be a part of something... a part of something big.