Jericho
Five sets of eyes drilled daggers into Card Slinger's darkened windows, the intensity of their gaze boring down into the nothingness that comprised his soul. Card Slinger let root slide off his tongue like a curse word, thick and bitter, making him retch. He looked around the room, then settled on Babs Seed.
"Whateva Madhoof is ta youze, he is the root o' dis all," he said darkly, narrowing his eyes. He rocked slightly in his chair, but made no effort to escape. Without the threat of pain or blindness, he settled on his original plan. And prayed in his agnosticism that somepony would listen.
Flattening her ears, Babs Seed shook her muzzle and snorted. "Why should we believe youze?" A filthy thug an' a criminal, an' an attempted murdera, at the very least. I don't trust dis psycho far as I can throw him.
Officer Rustler stomped towards the steel desk and rose to Slinger's eye level, propping himself up on his forehooves. "Youze were jus' bashin' ma buckin' head inta the wall, an' youze think we're gonna take anythin' youze have ta say seriously, scumbag?"
"Iffa youze had any intention o' bein' useful," Lucky tossed in, approaching him with anger in his eyes, "then youze shoulda controlled youze psychosis, Slinga." The name tasted filthy and fetid on his tongue. He smacked his lips and furrowed his brow.
Flicking his muzzle towards Dove and Rustler, Slinger objected, "Then these two shoulda kept dey promise. Show me a lil' respect, an' I'll—"
"How dare you!" Apple Bloom lunged towards him, caught mid-air by a quick snap of Babs's jaws on her tail. Gritting her teeth, Apple Bloom fought against her mare's grasp and exclaimed, "Respect? Respect?! Ya buckin' tried ta kill me an' Babs, ya buck—"
"What?!" Rustler and White Dove shouted in unison.
Lucky Toss averted his eyes to the floor, digging a forehoof into the unforgiving ground.
"When did dat happen?" asked Rustler, turning to Apple Bloom. Dove stared hard into Card Slinger as well, mentally adding two attempted murders to the scumbag's potential rap sheet.
Babs yanked Apple Bloom to her side with a firm tug on her tail and answered for her. "When we were foals. Dis asshole attacked us outta nowhere," she spat, glaring at him. With a snicker and the beginnings of a devilish grin, she added, "An' I beat the livin' shit outta him."
Card Slinger stared into the desk, biting his tongue.
"So, lemme get dis straight," said Officer Rustler, addressing Card Slinger while trotting back and forth in front of the desk. "Youze tried ta kill these two—" he pointed to the Apple mares—"when youze was a lil' colt, an' now youze went an' killed—"
"I neva killed nopony but Mafia!" Slinger blurted, darting his eyes around the room.
"Horseshit!" White Dove shouted, to the surprise of the others. Pointing an angry forehoof at him, she glanced at Apple Bloom before saying, "Dis bastard went out west an' killed some o' their friends!"
"An' attacked our family!" Apple Bloom shouted, her ears flattened, hooves twitching with anger.
Slinger started to protest, but was cut off once more by Officer Rustler.
"Youze killed ma friends, Slinga!" Stomping both forehooves on the desk, Rustler rose up and towered above living, breathing slime. He took deep, heaving breaths, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of his adrenaline. Fire in his cold, calculating blue eyes, he muttered through clenched teeth, "Youze killed ma friends. Two innocent mares, an' a stallion who lost his way."
"I didn't kill dem, Rustla!"
Officer Rustler lurched forward, pressing his snout against Slinger's. "Don't youze address me!" he yelled, spraying spittle onto Slinger's muzzle. "Youze buckin' piece o' shit! Youze come in heeya, a confessed murdera, nearly beat me ta death, nearly escape, an' youze expect me ta believe anythin' comin' out youze mouth?!"
Four sets of eyes looking on in hungry silence, Card Slinger wormed his muzzle away from the other stallion's, shaking his head. "No! I didn't confess ta nothin'!"
"Horseshit! We've got eyewitnesses!" Rustler grabbed both sides of Slinger's head and brought him forward again. Any confusion or delirium from his injuries had dissipated. Earth pony strong, he confronted his attacker, not twitching in his gaze. "Youze gonna go 'way fo' a long time, understand dat?"
"Youze got the wrong colt!" Squirming, Card Slinger tried to wrestle out of his grip, but failed. Rustler held him strong and fast as ever, keen on making him see the rage in his eyes. "Youze don't get it!"
"What's there ta get?!" Toss snapped, breaking his silence. Joining Rustler's side, he regarded Card Slinger with the same gaze he would any other career criminal. "Cut wit' the lies already!"
"I ain't lyin'!" Shaking his muzzle from side to side, Slinger began to hyperventilate, fighting the urge to scream. He squirmed against his restraints, his plan slipping away from him. "I ain't lyin'! I didn't kill dem, Rustla! I didn't!"
"Even iffa he's tellin' the truth," Babs said coldly, her hackles beginning to rise as she stepped in front of Apple Bloom, "he's still the bastard who came out an' killed our friends!" Muscles tensing, she planted her hooves firmly in the ground, resisting the urge to pounce on him again and teach him a lesson he'd never forget... again.
Babs continued, stomping towards him, "It's because o' youze the bar is gone! It's because o' youze ma fatha was hurt! It's because o' youze I have—"
Card Slinger opened his eyes. "Dat was youze bar?"
"Yea, it was, asshole!"
"Arson, too?" Rustler snorted, exhaling hot breath over Slinger's face. He pulled away from him in pure disgust, flexing his forehooves as he leaned against the desk. "Youze gonna go 'way fo' a long time, Slinga. Dat is, iffa youze live."
Card Slinger swept his gaze over the room one more time. Babs Seed was mere feet away from the desk, every inch of her being seeming ablaze with hate. Apple Bloom stood fast beside her, ears flattened, teeth bared, just as ready to spring again as she had a few minutes beforehoof. Officer Rustler seemed to possess iron willpower, though the fury on his muzzle attested that, if he allowed himself to do so, he would tear the disgraced stallion limb-from-limb.
Even White Dove, as sinful as he, could barely contain her rage, arming herself with the baton and pistol she'd placed on the floor during her confession to the others.
They wouldn't listen. He'd given up, given in, cashed his chips, and they still wouldn't listen.
A part of Card Slinger's black heart whispered to him, reminding him of the untapped strength within his veins. He could break the hoofcuffs easily if he wanted to—they were weaker than the iron chains of before. With three guns in the room and five sets of hooves, he would stand little chance once freed, but he had long thought to himself that he would rather go down in flames than anything else.
Another part was louder, crawling up onto his shoulder and whispering into his ear. The last chance. His last chance. Not just for revenge.
For truth.
For justice.
For his parents. For Boone. For himself.
Card Slinger closed his eyes, composed himself the best he could, and opened his eyes. He stepped into the threshold between Tartarus and purgatory, and proclaimed himself a repentant sinner. His final act would be in defiance to the stallion who'd marred his flesh and ruined his life.
Who, in ways none of them could fully understand, ruined all of their lives.
"I'm as good as dead, no matta o' what any judge says, but hear me out."
Card Slinger looked up into the eyes of the law, then into the eyes of mercy. Into Babs Seed.
"Please."
Noticing the direction of his gaze, four muzzles turned to Babs Seed.
They regarded her in silence. For, as inexplicably as Card Slinger was connected to each and every one of them, she was the one who, if anypony else, deserved to decide his fate.
Card Slinger shifted uncomfortably on the steel chair, wounds prior and present aching him. Onyx met emeralds across the room. "Please. Whateva Madhoof is—iffa he is anythin' ta youze—youze are in danga. We all are in danga. Dis is all him. King's Knights, Manehatten, the West, everythin'.
"I know youze have no reason ta believe me. I know I deserve prison, an' worse. How youze could've come face-ta-face wit' me an' not killed me, I don't understand."
Because youze don't deserve peace.
Soapy an' Dyea didn't deserve ta die, but at least dey know peace now.
Youze ain't worthy o' it.
Slinger looked at Rustler. "I didn't kill youze friends. But I know who did. Not directly, but... The one who makes everythin' the way it is 'round heeya, a whole big mess o' hell an' hate, I know who. I can tell youze everythin' I know. Youze can choose not ta believe me, youze can lock me up an' throw 'way the key."
Slinger paused, taking a slow breath, standing in the threshold, making his last-ditch effort.
"Please... jus' let me tell youze these things. An' then, youze can decide what ta do wit' 'em."
Three officers looked again to a civilian for guidance.
Apple Bloom looked up at Babs Seed, seeming to silently ask, "What do you think?"
Dis ain't even ma problem. Dis ain't ma city. Dis ain't ma home. These aren't ma ponies. But...
Iffa Madhoof is really behind everythin'...
Then dat means...
"Youze sure dis has ta do wit' Madhoof?"
"Positive."
Babs Seed sat down on her haunches and sighed, staring across the room into the second most despicable stallion she'd ever had the misfortune to know.
Looking at the others, Babs said, "Let's see what he has ta say."
~
Trying his best to stay upright on his hooves, Braeburn swayed his way to the Apple Family farmhouse. The sweet scent of homemade apple fritters greeted his nostrils as he climbed up onto the porch. His stomach rumbling, the sleepy stallion licked his lips and smiled. While the nature of his visit wasn't a cheerful one by any means, he couldn't help but fantasize about Applejack's famous fritters as he trotted up to the door and gave it a quick knock.
An elderly mare's voice shrieked inside, "Who is it?!"
Another mare called, "Ah'll git it, Granny! Jus' go back ta yer nap!"
Braeburn fidgeted with the brim of his Stetson as he waited, inhaling the aroma of apples and cinnamon greedily. His stomach growled at him again and he rolled his eyes. "Got more important business than fritters," he mumbled from the corner of his mouth.
Suddenly, the door swung open, a perplexed Applejack standing in the threshold. "Braeburn?!"
"Uh, howdy, cuz!" Braeburn tipped his hat. Plastering a smile across his face, he asked, "Can Ah come in?"
"Er, sure!" Applejack backed away from the door and ushered him inside.
In the living room, Granny Smith reclined in her favorite chair and blinked rapidly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Well, Ah'll be darned! Either there's a real handsome new stallion in town, o' it's yer Cousin Braeburn, Applejack!"
Braeburn returned the laugh and rubbed his neck. "Heh, thanks, Granny."
"Aw, don't be a stranger!" Granny Smith pushed herself off the chair and started walking as quickly as her old hooves could take her towards the stallion. "C'mere an' give yer Granny Smith a hug!"
Trotting up to her, Braeburn embraced the old mare gently, then asked, "How have things been, Granny?"
Granny Smith yawned and smacked her lips. "Well," she said, rubbing at one of her ears, "it'll be harvest season soon, ya know. So we've been a might busy. Ah, fer one, haven't had enough time ta take all ma naps—"
"Heh, heh. Yeah, we've sure been busy, Granny," Applejack chimed in, turning to Braeburn.
Granny chuckled. "An' Ah swear, it's been far too long since yer hide's been 'round—"
Applejack laughed and nodded. "Eeyup, it's been far too long since we've seen ya, Braeburn. So," she began, placing a forehoof on his shoulder, "what brings ya here?"
"Well, er, heh..." Braeburn forced a laugh, looking nervously around the room. The living room and the rest of the farmhouse appeared to be in good shape—even better than that. Many of the worn furnishings seemed to have been repaired, and the old wood stove apparently had been replaced with a new one.
"Oh, ya like our new stove?" Applejack asked, a huge grin on her muzzle. "Keeps the house nice an' warm!"
Granny Smith nodded, then nudged the stallion in the ribs. "A lil' too warm some nights."
Braeburn tilted his head and looked at Applejack. Glancing quizzically at her grandmother, she said, "Well, Granny, if the stove gets the house too hot, Ah could always—"
"Oh, don't ya be playin' like ya don't know what Ah mean!" Granny whooped, smacking Applejack on the back. She said to Braeburn, "Why, this one's been havin' that rather nice stallion 'round lately—err, what's his name? The one wit' the horseshoes on his—"
"Granny!" Crimson dotting her cheeks, Applejack said quietly, "Maybe you should finish up yer nap. Yer soundin' all sorts o' crazy."
Braeburn, on the other hoof, merely looked away and shook unpleasant imagery from his mind, stifling a chuckle. Embarrassed on Applejack's behalf, he studied the intricate patterns of the walls and ceiling.
Granny Smith chuckled and dismissed the embarrassed mare with a forehoof, walking over towards her trusty chair. "Aw, Ah get it. Ah get it. Sheesh! Anyway, nice ta see ya 'round, Braeburn," she said, looking over her shoulder and shooting him a wink.
"Er, thank ya kindly, Granny," he replied. Smoothing the creases of his vest, Braeburn turned to Applejack. "Anyway, Ah've got some things ta ask ya 'bout, Applejack."
Applejack raised an eyebrow. "Things? What kinda things?"
"Uh, well..." Braeburn looked over to see that Granny Smith had already settled in her chair and was closing her eyes. "Maybe we should talk in the kitchen?" he asked, tempted by the strong scent of fritters along with a yearning for privacy.
Applejack nodded, smiling as the old mare began to snore once more. Throwing a forehoof over his shoulders, she said, "C'mon, Brae. Ah made enough fritters fer everypony, plus extra."
~
He held nothing back, not one single drop in the polluted dam that churned Manehatten's toxic undercurrent. He began at the beginning, as colts are oft to do. He began with his own sin—his own greed and lust for power, and for revenge.
Ah, revenge. The single thread connecting him to Bernie Madhoof, eternally it seemed, and the one he'd never snipped, despite countless opportunities to do so. That thread became a chain with the addition of a black orange and two letters almost four years ago.
As he spoke, the reactions of the two stallions and three mares hopped in between outrage, disgust, and, most infrequently, pity. Card Slinger detailed everything he knew of Madhoof's operation, the King's Knights, and how that related to his own, probably defunct gang.
"So," Slinger said carefully, finishing up,"as youze can see, there is far mo' ta dis than jus' Kings an' Mafia. Kings an' Mafia is jus' a distraction from the real thing, the real deal. Sure, there is a rivalry there—o', eh, was—but it's intentional. Madhoof funds both sides, an' makes 'em fight, an' othas, too. Not jus' Manehatten, but Manehatten is his ground zero. His square one. Square on on the chessboard."
"Chessboard...?" Rustler tilted his head.
Slinger laughed. "The whole world is a chessboard ta him. A silly lil' game. Nothin' mattas. Killin' ponies, robbin' 'em, burnin' down their homes an' businesses..."
Slinger paused, glancing at the two Apple mares for a moment. Both regarded him with steely eyes and silent muzzles. He looked to the three law-ponies and continued, "It's all a big, cosmic game ta him. Madhoof thinks himself betta than Celestia, he does."
This time, White Dove was the one to break the silence, booming a laugh. She started to dissolve into a fit of unrestrained laughter, clutching at her stomach and throwing her head back, howling at the moonless gray. "Bwhahaha! B-better than C-Celestia?! Bahahaha!"
Rustler snapped, rounding on her, "What's so buckin' funny, Dove?!"
"B-because—hehe!—dat dumbass—haha!—s-seriously t-thinks he can—pfft!—beat C-Celestia?!" Dove rocked on her hindhooves, dissolving into tears of amusement. She wiped her tears away as she continued to howl and laugh, oblivious to Rustler's cold stare.
Card Slinger flattened his ears and growled, "It's true!"
Lucky Toss blew a raspberry. "Now, all o' dis shit is crazy enough as it is, but dat bastard thinks he could take on the Princess?"
"'Ey!" Babs Seed stomped a forehoof. The resulting THUD! echoed off the walls and turned three muzzles towards her, silencing Dove's laughter.
She and Apple Bloom shared a silent exchange before turning back to the others. "We believe him," Apple Bloom said, wrapping a forehoof around one of Babs's forelegs.
"Youze do?" Rustler scoffed. "Nopony is dat stupid!"
"Madhoof is," Babs shot back. Horseapples. I can't say dat name without wantin' ta vomit.
Babs shook her muzzle. "Iffa anythin o' what he says is true, dat is. Madhoof is..." She let her words trail off, struggling for the appropriate adjectives. A bastard? Dipshit? Scum-for-brains, murderous, treacherous, slimy, despicable, infamous—
Apple Bloom finished for her. "The worst pony under Celestia's sun. If anypony would be some kind o'... puppet-master crime-lord, it would be him."
"An' how do youze know?" Rustler challenged.
"Don't ask," both answered.
Rustler gritted his teeth but didn't reply, turning back to Card Slinger instead. "So, dis asshole thinks he can outwit the Princesses?"
"Oh, he doesn't think he can! He already has!" Card Slinger half-barked, half-whooped. Leaning back in his chair, he declared to the ceiling, "Madhoof's pullin' all the damn strings, makin' sure none o' dis shit gets ta Canterlot Castle!"
"Dat's impossible," Dove said angrily, her muscles tensing visibly beneath her white coat. "How the hay could none o' dis get ta her? 'Specially since it's been... four years, youze say?"
"As much as I hate ta agree with him," Rustler said, glaring at Card Slinger, "he's right 'bout the timeline, Dove. Was four years ago when everythin' went ta shit. I was still a schoolcolt then." He hesitated before saying, "I was plannin' on bein' a Royal Guard maself, when Manehatten started ta crack."
Toss rubbed his neck. "Heh. I was gonna open a casino when things started goin' south."
Officer Rustler flared his nostrils and turned away from the other stallion. White Dove, however, asked, "What made youze change youze mind?"
"Actually," Toss said, averting his eyes to the floor, "it was when I heard 'bout Fenca gettin' shot..."
Silence.
Apple Bloom and Babs Seed exchanged knowing glances before leaning a little closer to each other. Ta think, dat coulda been me o' Bloom, iffa we woulda lived heeya... o', even, earlier... when all those stallions were lookin' at us...
Wait...
"Slinga!" Babs exclaimed, shattering the silence.
Card Slinger, who'd been staring at his hooves, looked up. "Yea?"
"Does he..." Babs swallowed. "Does he know we're heeya?"
Slinger paused. "Not... Not as far as I know."
Babs Seed turned to the three in uniform. "Not gonna get inta details, but iffa Madhoof is behind all dis shit West—all the shootin's, all the crime—an' he finds out me an' Bloom are heeya... it's not gonna be... good."
"Why did he send those ponies out West?" Apple Bloom asked, narrowing her eyes at Card Slinger. "The way ya say it, it seems like he jus' wants power. Why would he send ponies ta terrorize a sleepy lil' settlement out in the middle o' nowhere?"
Card Slinger shrugged. "He's got an obsession wit' oranges, an' makin' sure places he stakes his claim only sell orange-flavored beverages. All we were told was ta get any law-ponies, an' the saloons, because dey didn't sell his products."
A collective chill ran down the spines of Babs Seed and Apple Bloom. So dat's what dis is 'bout... oranges... apples... Oh, shit, dat means—
Apple Bloom froze, her eyes wide. "He hasn't sent nopony ta Ponyville... has he?"
"Ponyville? Ain't dat where youze from, Babs?" Lucky Toss asked.
"Ponyville?" Rustler said, "I thought when youze up an' left all those years 'go, youze went out ta Appleloosa."
Babs shook her head. "Dat's where ma Ma an' sis went." Before he could inquire further, she lifted a forehoof to halt him. "Not youze business. Now, Slinga," she stated firmly, glaring at him, "answa me dat one."
"As far as I know, no. But," Slinger warned, his voice beginning to wax raspy, "he's got his hooves everywhere. In everythin'. Hay, far as I know, he could have connections there. Spies. Ponies in the local government, o' the post office. Watchin' shit. Takin' notes. Plottin'. He thinks himself invincible, an' thinks Celestia can't touch him."
"Well, then why hasn't nopony told Celestia?" Dove dug a forehoof into the concrete. "I'll admit, when I was in the Guard, she wasn't exactly as invincible o' perfect as most ponies think she is. But she wasn't stupid, o' neglectful. We had minor skirmishes wit' the Griffon an' Zebra kingdoms when I was in fo' smaller shit than what goes on in Manehatten!"
"Well, why haven't youze told her, then?" Slinger shot back.
Gritting her teeth, White Dove stomped the floor. "I have! Youze wanna see how many lettas I wrote ta her befo' I gave up? How many—"
"Why did youze give up?" Card Slinger asked, his grin growing wider.
Dove threw back her mane and exclaimed, "Because! Because I neva heard back, an' things neva got betta, maybe we got mo' Officas o' mo' weapons, but things didn't get betta. Dey would calm down fo' a bit, then dey would pick up, somepony would go missin', o' somepony found at the bottom o' Manehatten Lake, o'... o'..."
Before five sets of eyes, an unseen puzzle hovered, the pieces slowly coming together.
"Post office," Apple Bloom said. "Ya said he's got his hooves in there."
Slinger nodded. "Dat's right."
"An' I'd be willin' ta bet he's got his hooves on some o' the Canterlot nobles. Maybe even the Royal Guard," Lucky Toss said, finally tearing away from the desk. He sat on his haunches, the room starting to constrict around him. "Shit, iffa Slinga's right, he's got the money ta buy the entire... force... iffa he wanted ta..."
"He does," Babs Seed said. "In fact, accordin' ta ma Ma, he used ta practically own the force befo' Celestia had the Guard come in."
White Dove bit her lip, her brow furrowing, everything she'd come to know grinding to a halt. "But—but—"
A silent realization crept up between Apple Bloom and Babs Seed during the former detective's stuttering. Babs interrupted her, staring at Card Slinger as she asked, "Do youze know what his future plans are?"
Dove continued to stammer, her eyes darting around the room, "But—then—dat—no—"
Slinger said coolly, a smug smile on his muzzle, "He's got a map in his office with a bunch o' pushpins. Map o' Equestria, an' all the places he's been o' wants ta go."
"Office?" Toss asked.
"The Orange Family Mansion," Slinger replied, one eye on Babs Seed, who only stiffened. "There on the second floor, an' anotha. The one way up high. On the thirty-third floor o' the Manehatten skyscrapa. His towa." He snickered. "His stronghold."
Rustler began, "Are youze—"
"ENOUGH!"
White Dove bucked her hindhooves against one of the walls, resounding pain shooting through her limbs and a roaring WHOMP! echoing through the chamber. She reared up on her aching hindhooves, barking, "How can youze all seriously believe dis?! There's no way somepony could've built an entire organization without the Princesses knowin'!"
Lucky Toss pulled her down to the floor with a forehoof on her shoulder. "Dove! Get ahold o' youzeself!"
"Easy fo' youze ta say!" she snapped. "Youze tryin' ta tell me dat the Princesses jus' lets dis shit happen?!"
"Isn't dat what youze were thinkin' already?" Rustler challenged, stomping towards her. "Youze always complainin', whinin', waxin' 'bout how incompetent everypony else is, includin' Brutus an' the Princesses, when youze couldn't even solve a damn case!"
"Cut it out!" Toss shouted, glaring daggers at him.
"Youze Chief is a Knight, an' youze Princess don't know shit!" Card Slinger exclaimed, rocking in his chair. He groaned, his hooves aching, deep indentations from the hoof-cuffs cutting into his flesh.
"How could she not know?!" Dove shot back.
"She ain't God, youze idiot!" Card Slinger said, sweat rolling down his brow. "Youze said it youzeself she ain't perfect! Madhoof has everythin' in his hooves, pullin' all the right strings—"
Dove spun around and crossed her forehooves, shaking her head. "No way. Dis... dis is takin' it too far," she said grimly, eying the others. "Youze all bein' taken fo' foals. There's jus'... in all ma years... no—"
"Dammit, Dove!" Babs stomped the floor with her forehooves, iron and concrete piercing the stammering silence. "I don't think youze get it! Iffa what dis... dis... scumbag says is true, an' dat monsta is the one who sent ponies out west, an' makes the gangs fight each otha, an' is buyin' ponies' silence an' stoppin' things from reachin' Canterlot—"
As much as I don't want dat ta be true—
"Then it doesn't matter what happens ta Slinga! An' ya know what else?" Apple Bloom approached the incredulous mare with determined hoofsteps. "If that's right, then not only are Babs an' Ah in danger, everypony is, until Madhoof's stopped."
He's the only pony really capable o' it.
"Sever the root," Card Slinger said again, grinning in the dim light of the chamber. "Sever it. Not fo' me. I despise dat bastard mo' than any o' youze can relate—"
Fat chance.
"But, iffa nothin' else, youze need ta go afta him fo' youze own sake, too. Unless youze are Knights, o' course," Card Slinger finished, his smile fading.
"Don't youze even think we're gonna present ta youze fo' a second," snapped Officer Rustler, whipping his tail against his flanks. He hopped down from the desk and approached White Dove.
Lucky Toss and Babs Seed joined him, completing a circle of four surrounding the skeptical mare. "Look," Rustler said through his teeth, staring at her, "dis may be a long shot, but it's the first one we've got in ages."
"We?" Dove snorted. "Who is dis 'we'? Youze antagonized me from the moment youze rookie flank joined the damn force! Always kissin' flank up ta Bru—"
"'Ey! 'Ey! 'Ey!" Separating the two with his forehooves, Lucky rounded on White Dove. "Dat's not gonna help us any!"
Rustler countered, "Yeah, well, until ta-night, I jus' thought youze were some arrogant know-it-all wit' a short fuse! Ta-night, I learned youze had youze motivations fo' bein' so. Still don't like youze, but we gotta work togetha."
"Youze see a badge on ma uniform?" Dove objected. "O' one on Lucky's? We're done."
Lucky Toss hesitated, looking from White Dove, to Card Slinger, to Apple Bloom and Babs Seed, and, finally, to Rustler. Rustler—his former victim, and the first colt who'd ever dare stand up to him—stood tall in his uniform, staring back at him, a similar ocean of snide remarks and tumultuous history reflecting back into his eyes. Nevertheless, the investigator stayed silent, as did the rest of the room, even Card Slinger waiting to see what Lucky would do.
"Well, I'm gonna find it, then," Lucky Toss said at last. Shifting his focus to Babs and Apple Bloom, he said, "I promised I would help youze two, an' I'll be damned iffa I break dat promise jus' because o' the actions o' somepony else."
Looking at White Dove, Toss lowered his gaze and sighed. "Who knows iffa Slinga is right o' not? But iffa he is—"
"We're all in danga." Babs Seed turned to Apple Bloom and sighed. "Dis ain't our fight, but..."
"Ah know, sugarcube," Apple Bloom said gently, placing a forehoof on top of one of Babs's. "If ya weren't gonna say it, Ah was."
Apple Bloom turned around and faced the others. "Lucky, Rustla, if there's anythin' we can do ta help, we're gonna." She added firmly, "Ah know we ain't law-ponies, but if Madhoof is causin' all this, then we're in danger, an' so is our family. An' we Apples don't let anythin' happen ta our family."
Officer Rustler tapped his chin, then nodded. "Iffa youze hadn't saved ma life, Babs, then I would think a lil' differently. An' from what I think went on in the back room, youze pretty strong, too, Bloom. Youze two know how ta shoot?"
"Somewhat," Babs answered.
"Good enough. Er..." Forcing a cough, Rustler played with one of the pockets of his uniform and mumbled, "Sorry fo' bein' a right jackass ta both o' youze earlier."
"We forgive ya," Apple Bloom said with a smile.
Card Slinger said mockingly, "Awww! Look at dat! Ol' foalhood friends reunited!" He started to laugh, rocking back and forth in the chair.
White Dove was the first to spin around and snap at him, "Shut the buck up o' I'll give youze summat ta cry 'bout, scumbag!"
Blowing a raspberry, Card Slinger leaned back in his chair and clicked his tongue. "Whateva."
"An' fo' youze!" White Dove pointed at Rustler and Lucky. "Youze seriously gonna check out what he's sayin'?"
"What else can we do?" Lucky asked, throwing up his forehooves. "Iffa he is right, bout the gangs, 'bout the post offices, 'bout all these connections, then it would be unethical an' unlawful o' us ta not pursue the leads. Not dat youze seemed ta care dat much 'bout ethics."
Shifting her gaze between the Apples and the officers, White Dove defended, "I apologized already, alright? What mo' do youze want from me?"
"Well, ya did promise ta help us, too," Apple Bloom pointed out, taking a step towards her. "Ah know it sounds downright ridiculous, but Ah'm tellin' ya, Dove—if he's right, an' Madhoof is behind all this, things are gonna get worse. He's rich, he's got power, an' he's worse than heartless. He's downright evil. He's Nightmare an' Discord in pony flesh."
The room fell silent but for the rocking of Card Slinger's steel chair against the wall of the chamber.
Finally, White Dove answered by trotting over to her discarded badge, picking it up, and pinning it to her uniform. "Alright... Card Slinga," she said, disgusted by the roll of the words off her tongue, "where is dis office o' his?"
Babs answered, "We can tell youze where the mansion is." I happen ta know it quite well...
Horseapples, dis is weird... No, not weird. Bizarre. Who in the hay woulda thought I'd eva come back heeya, afta so long, an' find out ma old home is a crime den?
"Mo' than likely, he's got dat place heavily guarded, Babs," Detective White Dove said.
Card Slinger snickered. "Understatement o' the year."
"Fine, then." Officer Rustler approached Card Slinger again. "Where is his otha office?"
"Like I said: thirty-third floor o' the skyscrapa downtown. Can't miss it."
"What's it labeled as?" asked Officer Lucky Toss.
"I think it's labeled unda some insurance company," Slinger stated. "Iffa youze check the back o' products, like orange juice an' citrus beer, dat he makes an' owns, youze won't find his name. He goes unda a ton o' aliases. Bastard's got all the bases covered."
"Very well." Detective White Dove turned to the rest of the group. "It's been a long night. Hell, it's probably mornin' by now..." Reaching inside one of the pockets of her uniform, she fished for her pocketwatch and flipped it open. "Dammit. Glass is cracked."
Youze welcome. Babs smiled to herself.
"Horseapples... it's almost 0800." Resisting the urge to yawn, White Dove acknowledged the others with a sweeping gaze. "Let's say we get dis asshole locked up, an' meet at The Big Orange 'round 1800 tomorrow?"
Apple Bloom blinked. "Meetin'? Fer what?"
"What do youze mean, 'locked up'?!" demanded Card Slinger, blurting his question at the same time as Apple Bloom.
Officer Rustler growled t and spun on Slinger. "Put youze in jail, scumbag! We'll investigate youze claims, an' hold off on puttin' youze befo' a judge until then. Iffa we can get proof dat youze didn't kill..." He swallowed, then continued, "Those three ponies, an' dat Madhoof is responsible, we'll go from there. But we can't keep youze in dis room foreva."
"Iffa youze think we were bad, jus' have us have Cotton watch ova youze." Dove laughed darkly, Rustler and Toss soon joining her. Babs Seed and Apple Bloom just shrugged, having no desire to understand the grim joke.
"Alright. Well, in dat case, we're gonna head back. C'mon, Apple Bloom." Throwing a forehoof around her mare's shoulders, Babs Seed began to lead the pair out of the room.
Lucky Toss trotted up to meet them. "'Ey! Aren't youze two stayin' in a hotel o' summat?"
Stopping in her tracks, Babs looked over her shoulder. "Yeah... why?"
"Well, uh, did youze check in unda youze real names?"
"Yes. What are ya gettin' at, Lucky?" asked Apple Bloom, raising an eyebrow.
"Might not be the safest idea, assumin' Slinga ain't full o' it. Tell youze what. I'll escort youze back, an' youze two can stay in ma guest room. Iffa youze want, o' course," he added quickly, shooting them a sheepish grin.
"I'm not sure iffa—"
"That sounds great, Lucky. Follow us," Apple Bloom said, tugging on Babs's forehoof and leading her out of the room.
Lucky Toss grinned triumphantly and followed after them, turning around to mouth to his fellow officers, "catch youze two 'round noon".
As Apple Bloom stopped to push the door open, Babs protested, "But—but—he's—"
"Betta than stayin' in the middle o' the city where anypony can ask where we are," Apple Bloom explained, shoving the door open. She blinked and groaned at the resulting light. So did Babs Seed. Spent far too long in dat gray room...
"Can't argue wit' dat," Babs admitted.
"Don't worry!" Lucky assured, slinging a forehoof around both of their shoulders. "I may be a bachelor, but I keep things clean. An' I sleep most o' the day, anyway, iffa youze wanted some privacy." He winked and nudged Babs in the shoulder.
Both mares face-hoofed as they stepped into the hallway.
~
"Coffee o' apple juice, Braeburn?" Applejack offered, grabbing a plate from a cupboard in the kitchen. She selected a fresh apple fritter cooling on the tray and placed it on the dish, then set it down on the table in front of Braeburn.
Braeburn removed his Stetson, letting it hang off the back of the chair. Stretching his tired hindhooves beneath the table, he yawned and mumbled, "Mmm... coffee's probably the best idea right 'bout now."
With a laugh, Applejack poured him a fresh cup. "Yer lucky me an' Mac need our caffeine in the mornin'." She placed the mug next to his apple fritter and sat down beside him. "So, tell me, Braeburn, how's things out in Appleloosa?"
Taking a bite of the fritter, Braeburn chewed slowly, using his full mouth as an excuse to contemplate his answer. The fritter tasted even better than it smelled, if that was even possible. Swallowing, he set down the pastry and replied carefully, "Well... er, things could definitely be... better."
"Oh?" Applejack sipped her coffee. "Somethin' wrong? That troublemaker Pickaxe stirrin' stuff up?"
He blinked. "P-Pickaxe?"
"Yea!" Wiping her muzzle with the back of a forehoof, she explained, "Apple Bloom an' Babs said in their letters a while back that there was some stallion causin' trouble a bit. Tried ta pick up on Bloom o' somethin'."
Applejack chuckled, shaking her muzzle. "Hoo-ey! Ah'm sure glad Ah wasn't that stallion. Ah imagine Babs musta kicked his flank." She paused. "Ah think that was the same day somepony came an' shot up the salt bar..."
"It was, Applejack," Braeburn confirmed, nodding grimly. "Ah was the one who gunned him down."
She grinned. "That's our Braeburn. Gonna be Sheriff soon."
"Er, Applejack—"
"Why, Ah can't see Silverstar pickin' nopony but you, Brae!" Applejack took another sip of her coffee. "Yer obviously a decent shot, not ta mention the most hardworkin', family-oriented, kindest damn stallion Ah've ever known. Next ta Mac, o' course," she added with a chuckle. "An' don't even git me started on how ya handled that situation wit' the Buffalo."
"Applejack—"
"Nope, Ah can't think o' nopony who'd be a better Sheriff than you, Braeburn," Applejack finished, grinning from ear to ear. She regarded him with a proud nod, then took another drink of steaming caffeine. She licked her lips and glanced out the kitchen window. "You came out at a nice time, Braeburn. Everythin's startin' ta turn all red, orange, an' yell—"
"Applejack!" Braeburn exclaimed, grabbing one of her forehooves. His outburst startled both his cousin and his grandmother, Granny Smith nearly jumping out of her chair.
"What was that?!"
"Jus' Braeburn, Granny! Go back ta sleep!" Applejack called into the living room. Turning back to the stallion, she squeezed his forehoof and forced a chuckle. "Er, sorry. Ah didn't mean ta ramble, there. O' interrupt ya. Now," she said, releasing her grip, "what's on yer mind?"
"Applejack..." Braeburn paused, his mind running rampant with disbelief. Had she truly heard nothing? Not about the first shooting? Not the about second, beyond Yukon? Was she completely oblivious to the... arson? To everything? Had not a single letter made its way to Ponyville?
He spoke again, taking a different route. "Applejack, when's the last time you heard from Babs, Bloom, o' Citrus?"
"Hmmm..." Applejack tapped her chin and looked away. Far in the orchards, she could barely see the cherry-red figure of Big Macintosh harvesting a fresh orchard. She looked back to Braeburn.
"Come ta think o' it, it has been a while since Ah got a letter. But Caramel said Babs an' Apple Bloom are fine... though Babs needs ta watch her tongue a bit," Applejack grumbled, snorting. "Always been a bit irrational, that filly."
"Alright, but..." Braeburn pushed his fritter around his plate for a few moments before looking her in the eye. "Can ya tell me the last time you got a letter from Appleloosa, o' Babs an' Bloom?"
"Ah'd have ta say it's been close ta a month now. Maybe even a lil' mo' tha—wait. Is everythin' alright?" Applejack stared straight into him, alarmed to see the stallion flinch in her gaze. "Braeburn..."
Pushing his plate away, Braeburn brought his forehooves in front of him and took a deep breath.
Sensing bad news on the horizon, Applejack removed her own Stetson and steadied herself. "Braeburn... what's goin' on?"
"A lot, Applejack," Braeburn deadpanned. "An' none o' it is good."
~
By some miracle, Babs Seed and Apple Bloom managed to collect their belongings from their room without forgetting anything. Sleep tugged at both of their eyes, but the events in both the hidden and interrogation chambers weighed heavily on their minds. Lucky Toss waited patiently outside their door, then led them out and into the busy Manehatten streets once they'd checked and double-checked their saddlebags and turned in their key.
Weaving and twisting through the beginning, morning crowds, they followed the stallion, who was still in his Manehatten blues, with bags under his eyes and his mane a mess of frazzled white, through the city. Babs Seed couldn't help but notice that several stallions eyed them curiously as they passed. After pointing this out to Apple Bloom, they quickened their pace, walking side-by-side with the police officer instead of behind him.
Finally, after navigating through a maze of abandoned storefronts, junk-food-peddling vendors, and a legion of half-awake, harried passerby, the three reached a large apartment building. "Shady Oaks Apartment Homes" read the lettering on the front, glass door. The front door was locked, accessible only to residents via a special key.
Fumbling around for the key in his uniform pockets, Toss said, "I know it don't look dat good, but it's betta than most places 'round heeya."
"Ah don't see a single oak tree 'round here," Apple Bloom grumbled.
Babs added, "Youze couldn't afford betta on an offica's salary?"
Finding the key, Lucky Toss opened the door and held it open for them to enter. He sighed. "I do ma best. Got some debts I'm... not proud o'."
Glancing at the dice on his flank, Babs nodded in understanding, following after Apple Bloom. Once all three were inside, Lucky Toss led the mares through a series of hallways and up the stairs, stopping on the second level. Another turn of a corridor, and he gestured to one of the doors. Apartment 22.
After locating another key, Lucky Toss opened another door. "Welcome ta ma castle! A mansion ta rival anypony's. Heh, heh."
Trotting inside, the first thing Babs and Apple Bloom noticed were takeout containers. Empty boxes of veggie and cheese pizzas, discarded containers of pasta, and pie tins left to soak in the sink dominated the scene, all coupled with an array of crumbs, sauce stains, and odors that they were not particularly interested in discerning.
Apple Bloom managed a grin and said, politely as she could, "It's, uh... very nice, Toss."
"Uh, yeah..." Looking around, Babs spotted a mess of empty food cans, newspapers, cider, and beer bottles littering the kitchen table, kitchen countertops, coffee table, and even a bookshelf. "Youze doin' pretty nice fo' youzeself."
Locking his front door, Lucky shrugged and muttered, "Best I can do. Heeya, let me show youze the guest room."
Thankfully, the guest room off the main hallway of the apartment was in pristine condition, appearing to have never been used. A queen-sized bed, nightstand, writing desk, chair, and lamp were the only items contrasting against the blaringly-white walls. "Sorry it ain't decorated. Didn't really have the bits fo' dat jus' yet," Toss said, looking ashamed.
"It's no problem. Thanks fo' lettin' us stay heeya, Lucky."
"You really didn't have ta! Very nice o' ya." Apple Bloom yawned, the other two soon joining her.
"Sh... Sheesh..." Babs trotted over to the window and shut the blinds, rubbing her muzzle with a forehoof. "Been up almost twenty-four hours now..."
Toss laughed. "Yea, it was a long night fo' all o' us. I'll be headin' ta bed, too," he said, unbuttoning his uniform. Grabbing the doorknob, he began to close the door, stopping to say, "I'll get youze two up at 1700, jus' so we ain't late. Oh, an' the walls are thin, so—"
Both glared at him.
"Alright, alright... horseapples!" Shaking his head, the stallion grinned as he closed the door, saying, "Goodnight, youze two."
"Goodnight, Lucky!"
"Night, Toss."
Once the door was shut, they quickly settled into bed. Happily, it was soft and warm, thick blankets and fine sheets making them more than comfortable. Snuggling into her mare, Apple Bloom pulled the blankets over themselves, muttering, "Ah wish this was jus' a dream..."
Yawning, Babs said, "Me... hah... too. Maybe iffa we go ta sleep, we'll wake up from it."
Apple Bloom laughed and wrapped a forehoof around Babs Seed, stroking her back gently. "Ah sure hope so."
"Mmm. Let's try an' get some sleep, alright?"
"Alright..." Apple Bloom closed her eyes and curled up against her mare's chest.
In spite of the sun and shadows, they fell asleep quickly.
And dreamt of the West, and Ponyville.
~
"Braeburn... Ah... Ah jus' don't know..."
"Ah know it's a lot ta take in, cuz, but Ah'm tellin' you... we wrote ya, we sent all those letters out..."
"Ah... Ah didn't git a single one. Are ya sure 'bout this?"
"Ah know Ah'm sure, Applejack. Ah saw everythin' wit' ma own eyes. As fer Babs an' Bloom, well, Citrus an' Libra went out there when it happened. Ah had ta stay back. But Ah saw 'em when they came back ta Appleloosa. Babs has a huge scar on her shoulder now... they had ta dig the bullet out, Applejack."
"Ah... Ah..."
"Applejack..."
"Ah jus'... Ah jus'... stuff like that? Stuff like that doesn't happen 'round here! 'Specially not out in the middle o'—"
"We've had troubles befo' wit' outlaws, wit' criminals. That's why we had Silverstar. That's why he trained me up. Because things jus' started gettin' bad, Applejack."
"Ah know, but... why?"
"Ah'm pretty damn sure somethin' in Manehatten has ta do wit' it. The orange.. the black orange... it's a gang, Applejack. It's a gang, an' Ah'll be damned if it ain't comin' from back East."
"Braeburn... Ah... Ah hate ta call ya a liar, but—"
"Ah ain't lyin'! This is the truth, Applejack. The damned truth."
"Ah know, but... it's jus' so hard ta believe. Hasn't anypony told the Princesses?"
"As far as Ah know, a bunch o' townsfolk sent letters out that way. Most o' us are strugglin', so gettin' bits together ta go visit Canterlot ain't somethin' most ponies can do, much less gettin' an' audience wit' the Princesses. But as far as Ah know, a bunch o' messages were sent out. But if you didn't get ours, then maybe—"
"Nopony got theirs ta Canterlot."
"That's what Ah'm afraid o'."
"But... but who would..."
"You know... Ah've been thinkin'... It's crazy, but... there is one stallion. Assumin' he's still alive..."
"You don't mean—"
"Ah do. Ah do, Applejack. An' Ah'm scared Ah might be right."
~
1700 arrived rather rudely with a stomp of hooves on the hardwood and a call of, "Please tell me youze two are jus' sleepin'!"
1700 pulled Apple Bloom and Babs Seed from the depth of their dreams, which was a daunting task, considering how pleasant they had been. Fields of gold and green replaced seas of gray, apple trees with limbs outstretched springing up where concrete obelisks once stood.
Last night had taught them in many ways that the nightmare was not over, and so they rose, taming messy manes and shoveling down the only food in Lucky Toss' apartment that didn't appear to be of questionable age or origin.
"Ah can't believe Ah'm eatin' ice cream fer breakfast," Apple Bloom grumbled, slurping down a spoonful.
"At least it's strawberry," Babs Seed said with a groan, licking the spoon.
Lucky Toss, decked out in a fresh uniform, rolled his eyes and took a bite of some pasta from a takeout container. "'Ey! I offered ta share ma spaghetti, but it was youze two who refused!"
"Shuddup, Toss." Babs snickered and stole a final bite of ice cream. Setting the spoon in the muddy, slightly soapy water in the sink, she asked him, "Do youze have any idea what we're gonna do ta-night?"
He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep very well, so I actually got up at noon an' went an' talked ta Dove. She's keepin' it all hush-hush fo' now. Only youze two, me, an' Rustla know. She said we'll discuss the plan at the bar." Jamming another forkful of pasta into his maw, he smacked as he chewed, shaking his muzzle slowly. "Youze two still sure youze wanna be involved in dis?"
"Isn't that what y'all should be askin'?" Apple Bloom challenged, putting her spoon in the sink as well. She turned to face him. "Afta all, we ain't law-ponies. Isn't this illegal? Helpin' y'all wit' an investigation?"
"Technically, no. There's a lot youze can do legally ta help us as civilians."
"Includin' what we're gonna do ta-night?" Babs asked.
Finishing his pasta, Toss chucked the empty container into a mountain of them on the countertop. Wiping his forehooves on a disheveled kitchen towel, he said, "Depends. I'm not sure. An' I'm pretty sure dat, afta what we learned last night, Brutus ain't gonna be hearin' o' it, neitha. Dat opens up our options."
Babs raised an eyebrow. "An' Rustla's gonna keep his mouth shut 'bout dis? Doesn't he always suck up ta the Chief?"
"Sounded like he'd changed his heart last night. Let's hope he keeps his muzzle shut." Glancing at a clock on the wall, Lucky Toss ushered them with a forehoof. "C'mon, we're burnin' daylight."
They followed closely behind him out of the squalid apartment, bellies full but stomachs churning.
~
Bernie Madhoof relaxed in his home office, leaning back in his favorite char and propping his hindhooves on the desk. A fat cigar hanging from his lips, he chuckled and exhaled a thick smoke ring towards his visitor. "What news do you bring me today, little worm?"
Bowing before his King, Chief Brutus replied to the carpet, his words muffled and incomprehensible.
Reaching over, Madhoof flicked hot ash onto the snow-white stallion's neck.
Yelping, Brutus rubbed his neck, gritting his teeth and fighting back the urge to make any further noise. The rough stomp of hooves against carpet announced he had already trespassed against his Master.
Grabbing the stallion by the mane, King Orange yanked his lowly subject up, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You will speak up clearly when you address me! Do you understand, little worm?!" he demanded, grabbing the cigar and bringing it directly in front of the stallion's eyes.
"Y-Yes, s-sir!"
"Good!" Releasing him, Madhoof grinned at the satisfying THUMP! the large stallion made when he landed. He grinned further at the little worm's pathetic grunt of pain. "Now, tell me of our newest... friend being held downtown."
Rubbing the burn on his neck, Chief Brutus spoke clearly, avoiding his Master's gaze but speaking in his direction. "Card Slinga's got a jail cell all ta himself. As far as ma Officas tell me, he was interrogated last night, but nothin' came o' it. In fact, the Officas who interrogated him threw him in the cell once mornin' hit. Officas Rustla an' White Dove interrogated him, an' submitted no new reports o' follow-up to me. I spoke ta some o' ma otha officas, an' they know nothin' o' it. He's still charged wit' the three murdas, an' we should be gettin' him in front o' a judge fo' a few days."
The Master's smile grew ever wider, threatening to split his muzzle. "Very good, little worm! Why, that little rat can rot in prison for the rest of his life for all I care. As long as the little birdy doesn't sing, let him keep flapping his tiny wings." Taking another drag of his cigar, he said with a chuckle, "I'm sure his fellow prisoners are quite enjoying the little faggot."
Chief Brutus nodded, repressing a laugh.
"Very good, little worm. The city needs somepony to go to prison for a prolific crime. Something to... satiate the masses, if you will. Besides... he has outlived his purpose. Make sure he doesn't talk, and those bits are yours. And if he does..."
The King gestured for the worm to finish for him.
"M-make sure he chokes on his tongue?"
Madhoof laughed. "You may prove yourself useful just yet, little worm. Yes. Make sure his death is a painful one."
He looked out the window of his glorious mansion towards his skyscraper in the distance—his tower, reaching the empty Heavens, peering down at all the skittish ants below.
Him above, them below.
The King smiled. The sun was setting. Soon would come the night.
In a few more days, he would go again to the West, to the wasteland. Soon, he would move the chessboard in a different direction, and strike down the source of his opposition once and for all.
Ponyville.