Chapter 33: Murder Most Foul
It was the day before the slave transaction, and Smithy was a nervous wreck. She knew that Stinking Rich would be meeting up with a few thugs that evening in the hotel dining room to not only hammer out the final details of tomorrow’s slave deal, but also to plan out whatever shenanigans the Faction of the Stud would partake in over the weekend. It was during this meeting that she decided to let Crab Apple and his gang do their work.
The hour was drawing closer, and Smithy did everything she could to keep herself calm. She downed a miniature bottle of whiskey from the mini-bar as she put on her nightgown, hoping the drink would ease her nerves. Her mother was already passed out in the other room, so all she had left to do was get her son to sleep. “Time fer bed, Filthy Rich!” she exclaimed, expecting to see her son protesting. She was prepared to meet his demands that evening, having a water pitcher, a carton of milk, his favorite candy, a stack of bedtime stories, new pajamas, and a brand new teddy bear ready for his bedtime bribe.
What she wasn’t expecting was for her well laid plan to be contradicted by Stinking Rich. “Let the boy stay up,” he said, taking his son’s side of the argument. “We’re on vacation fer heavens sake. Besides, we fellas got some late night plans, don’t we boy?”
Filthy Rich beamed his cutest smile at his mother as he nodded his head. “Daddy’s gonna teach me all ‘bout business tonight!” he exclaimed. “We’re gonna meet some folks in the dinin’ room fer a late night snack, and Uncle Happy’s gonna teach me how to read a map tonight! Lemme stay up, mama! Please?”
Smithy tensed at the mention of her brother’s name. How in Celestia’s name had she forgotten about Happy Trails? “I got a better idea,” she said with what felt like the fakest smile she had ever smiled in her life. “How ‘bout y’all have a sleep over right here in the hotel room with yer Uncle Happy tonight. Y’all can built a fort and play maps in here all night long! I’ll even order us up some pizzas! Don’t that sound like more fun?”
Filthy Rich shook his little head obstinately. “I wanna meet them business ponies!” he protested, bouncing up and down like a brat beside his father.
Smithy watched helplessly as her son marched out of the room, her husband smiling that victorious smile of his as he followed closely behind. There was nothing she could do to stop it without looking suspicious, which only made her panic. She knew she would have to find the Brotherhood of Steeds and come up with something to stop what she had put into motion.
She looked out the window for any sign of the rival gang, having no luck finding anypony in the dark. “Fingle fangle!” she cursed to herself as she paced the room, trying to think of her next move.
Smithy checked the hallway to see if anypony was looking before proceeding out of her room. She knew she was going to look ridiculous wondering around the hotel in her nightgown, but now was not the time to think about vanity. The important thing was making sure her brother and son were kept safe.
She ran down three flights of stairs before reaching the ground level. After a brisk sprint down a few hallways she could see her husband, brother, and son gallivanting about in the lobby with their fellow gang members and some well dressed business ponies.
Smithy hid behind a large potted plant to keep from being seen as she scanned the room for any sign of the Brotherhood. She nearly jumped into the plant pot when she heard a 'psssst!' coming from behind her. “Bruisey!” she snapped quietly, noticing that the waiter pony was dressed as hotel staff and pushing a hotel luggage cart with large suitcases stacked on it. “I gotta find Crab Apple. We gotta change plans.”
Bruisey was not impressed by what Smithy had said, but knew that arguing so close to their target was a bad idea. He coaxed her to sit down on the luggage cart so that he could wheel her away, using the large suitcases full of weaponry to cover her. “Dis place is Faction loyal, lady,” he whispered, frustrated with his charge. “Do you know what kinda trouble it took just gettin’ here? Dis is too big a risk ta change plans on us last minute.”
Smithy looked pleadingly at the pony who was carting her away. “Ya don’t understand,” she begged. “Mah boy and brother are in there! They might get killed! I just found this out!”
While Bruisey sympathized with the pleading pony, he knew how dangerous it could be to alter plans like this on such short notice. “Da boss is in da kitchen,” he said quietly as he turned a corner to be out of his rival’s sight. “You can get there if you go outta da window and climb da fence in da pool area. There’s a back door dat leads to da kichen near da pool. Now hurry it up!”
Without a moment to lose, Smithy dashed down the hallway and jumped out the window. She leapt up on the tall poolside fence, finding the height difficult to climb given how plump she’d gotten over the years. Her nightgown snagged on one of the fence spokes, and she could feel a piece of it tearing off of her nightgown as she cleared the fence. Smithy ran for the kitchen’s back door, thinking nothing of the discarded garment swatch hanging on the fence.
She could see Crab Apple crouched down by the swinging doors that entered into the dining hall. “Hey!” she nearly shouted as she ran up to him. “We gotta stop this! Mah brother and son are out there!”
Crab Apple threw a hoof over Smithy’s mouth, holding her down so as not to let her cause a ruckus. “Shuddup!” he demanded in a stern whisper. “You shoulda thought a dat when you hired me. We’re surrounded by da enemy here! We gotta get in and out quick if we want dis done right.”
Smithy bit down on Crab Apple’s hoof to get him to move it. “Mah idiot husband sprung this news on me last minute,” she explained in the same whispered tone. “Mah son’s the lil’ one, and mah brother’s got three horse shoes on his flank. Whatever ya do, don’t hurt them two!”
Crab Apple breathed a frustrated sigh at the new request that was thrust upon him last minute. “Fine,” he said with gritted teeth. “Salty Ron, grab da boy when you go in. Bruisey, spread da word about da brudder. Wait for my signal on when we attack.”
Smithy breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the ponies scatter, only to notice a less than impressed look on Crab Apple’s face. “Sorry,” she said uncomfortably, turning her gaze down onto the floor.
Crab Apple sneered back at her. “Go back to your room, lady,” he demanded. “We got dis. You’re only slowin’ us down.”
Smithy shook her head obstinately at the command. “I ain’t budgin’,” she replied, putting her hoof down stubbornly.
Crab Apple rested a hoof on his temples, clearly getting aggravated by the unyielding pony who had hired him. “You don’t change up da rules last minute, lady,” he commented harshly before returning to his crouched position near the door. “You see all them guys out there? It’s gonna be tough gettin’ da word out ta everypony with you stickin’ your nose in where it don’t belong.”
Smithy peeked through the crack in the swinging door, noticing ponies and zebras dressed as hotel waiters standing at a buffet table with an elaborate ice sculpture on it. She watched the guard who had frisked her in the warehouse whispering to a zebra who was sharpening a knife near a large watermelon. “Mah brother and son are comin’,” she protested. “I gotta stick 'round or I’ll go crazy!”
Crab Apple ducked back into the kitchen as soon as he saw the Faction of the Stud entering the dining room, making sure to grab Smithy so that she too would not be seen. “You wanna be stubborn? Fine!” he commanded as he stood up to crack his knuckles. “Now we gotta wait while we make even more adjustments. I need you ta do exactly what I say and stay put in here while we work. No acceptations, no matter how bad it gets, stay put! Got it?”
Smithy nodded nervously, wishing she could see what was going on in the dining room right now. Not knowing was driving her crazy!
A half hour passed with no attack, and Smithy was beside herself with worry. She knew her interruption had caused the delay, but the wait was agonizing. She was grateful to see Bruisey walk through the swinging door, a look of determination on his face. “They don’t suspect a thing, boss,” he said proudly. “Everypony’s waitin’ for your signal. You want I should give it ta ‘em?”
Crab Apple smiled sadistically as he picked up a smoke bomb. “Go for it,” he said as he grabbed a book of hotel matches.
Smithy peeked her head out as Bruisey walked out of the kitchen to wave his hoof and signal the start of the attack. Beyond Bruisey, she could see Filthy Rich bouncing happily on his uncle’s lap, eating an enormous lollipop. The young boy looked like he was fighting to keep his eyes open as he rested his head contently on Happy Trails’s chest. “Fergive me,” Smithy begged softly as she watched smoke bombs rolling across the floor.
The dining room came alive with the sounds of panic as the smoke bombs went off. Smithy couldn’t see anything from the cracked door in the kitchen, but she could certainly hear things. She could just make out the outline of a strong figure dragging a much smaller one into a corner and away from the violence, and judging by the little voice shouting racial slurs she could tell that it was Salty Ron holding back Filthy Rich. Now all she needed was to know that her brother was safe.
The smoke began to lift up a bit, allowing the gangs to better see each other. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see the Faction of the Stud were just as prepared to fight as the Brotherhood of Steeds, each gang brandishing enough knives to kill off each other. She was terrified to see her own brother pounce on Bruisey, hacking at the waiter pony’s throat and killing him. Smithy gasped as she watched sweet, lovable Happy Trails get up from the bloodied corpse and look around for another pony to kill. The look on her brother’s face was almost animalistic, terror and adrenaline mixed into a terrifying grin.
She watched her brother run to the buffet table to defend another gangster. Together they fought off a small wave of attackers, only to be crushed to death by the enormous ice sculpture on the buffet table.
While they were outnumbered, the Faction of the Stud were still skilled enough fighters to match their attackers. Before long, both gangs were evenly matched in skill and numbers. Crab Apple got a brilliant idea as soon as he saw Stinking Rich and a few other men left standing against the wall with their knives at the ready. “I gotcha boy, Rich Man!” he screamed with a sickening delight over the sounds of fighting. “Come fight me like a man if you don’t wanna see your boy die tonight!”
Smithy stopped breathing as Salty Ron dragged her son at knife point out into the middle of the room. “What are y’all doin’?” she said softly, her heart racing at the violence she had caused.
She had thought to run out and save her son, but was worried that if she’d gone with her maternal instincts that she would no longer have somepony to behave maternally toward. All she could do was pray to the stars that Crab Apple would keep his end of the agreement. She was beginning to doubt that trust seeing as how her brother lay dead beneath an ice sculpture. Tears ran down her cheeks as she watched Filthy Rich begging not to be killed, all the while blaming herself for how much she had scarred him for life.
It was clear that Crab Apple was getting a thrill out of watching Stinking Rich suffer. “Just da two of us, Rich Man,” he said cruelly, smiling like a crazy horse while holding his knife like a killer. “It’s been a long time comin’. One of us ain’t comin’ outta dis without a knife in his belly. So whose it gonna be? You, me, or da boy?”
Stinking Rich grabbed a knife from one of his comrades before approaching his enemy. “I’ma take ya down hard,” Stinking Rich threatened. “Yer just gonna be another notch in mah belt, ya scum bag dock pirate. Now let mah boy go and we’ll see whose blood stains the floor tonight.”
Smithy found herself conflicted on who she wanted to see win. While it was the goal to have her husband killed, she almost wanted to see Stinking Rich win for the sake of her son. She watched the two ponies dodging each other’s blows until the remaining living gangsters formed a cheering circle around them and obscured her vision. It was torture not being able to see what was happening, especially since she knew her son had been brought back into all of this against her wishes. The only thing that let her know that the fight was over was the sound of her son screaming.
With the job done, the two gangs scattered with their opponents rushing to make their own escape. Within minutes, the room was empty, all accept for the scattered corpses and the crying Filthy Rich. Unable to hold back anymore, Smithy pushed open the door.
She was quickly grabbed back into the kitchen by Crab Apple. “Whadda you think your doin’!” he demanded as he dragged her outside to the pool area. “I said don’t go in there! You got cotton in your ears, lady!”
Smithy pushed the gangster off of her and into some pool furniture. “Ya said ya weren’t gonna hurt mah boy or mah brother!” she hollered, hot tears pouring down her face.
Crab Apple’s features softened a bit as he watched the grieving mare. “Would you at least go back da way you came so you don’t look suspicious?" he suggested, pointing at the fence. "And take dat bit a your clothes off da fence with you! You don't wanna leave evidence.”
In spite of what she had just witnessed, Smithy was glad for Crab Apple’s sharp eye for details and the boost over the fence. Without looking back, she ran full tilt back to the window she had jumped out of earlier that night.
Smithy quickly dried her eyes before entering the hall, hoping to look convincing in front of her son. “Filthy Rich?” she asked, trying to sound innocent in front of her crying child.
He looked up at his mother with the saddest look she had ever seen, his little body covered in his father’s blood. “Mama!” he sobbed as they ran to each other and embraced. “Mama! Mah Daddy is… he’s… the bad pony…killed him!”
It broke her heart to watch her son sob so hard over such an intense loss. She had hoped he could have had a good cry in the morning after finding out the news second hand, not have to witness it with his own two eyes. Smithy held him tight as he soaked her with tears, blood, and mucus. “I’m sorry ya had to see this,” she cried softly, hating herself for putting him through what he saw. “That’s what happens when ya get mixed up in gangs. Folks get hurt somethin’ bad.”
Smithy made sure to shield her son’s eyes as she watched Crab Apple walk out of the kitchen. She could tell just by looking at him that he had cried a little bit, but the look in his eyes was strictly business. He gestured to her that he would see her soon before walking out of the dining hall.