//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: A picture is worth a thousand bit fine if you paint it on a public wall! // Story: All that Glitters is Gold // by Bucephalus //------------------------------// All that Glitters is Gold Chapter 7 A picture is worth a thousand bit fine if you paint it on a public wall! As the bright and pleasant rays of sun shone upon the dirty and unpleasant streets of Yoshiwara Street, a familiar sight played out before the eyes of the local residents. The cast of this pitiful play could be seen from the windows of the office of Gold Standard and the hostess club Tenjiku. The regular protagonist, Fool’s Gold… “Urgh, I’m gonna puke…” …And the demon-like landlady, Phoenix Empress. “Shaddap! Y’all owe still owe me the rent! If ya paid yer bills instead of blowin’ it off on the cheap entertainment at Patpong Street, ya wouldn’t be in sucha pitiful state!” It was the usual brutal, one-sided verbal beatdown from the red-maned mare. Fool’s Gold, with his bloodshot eyes and slightly greenish face, could barely form a coherent retort while trying to hold back the alcohol he had drank last night; in other words a fitting punishment for a protagonist as unfitting as he is. “S-shut up, you damn Narrator,” Fool’s Gold gurgled. “I was meeting up with an old friend last night, so you can’t start blaming me for this. I’ve got enough problems of my own…” You have 99 problems and alcohol is at least one. “Now y’all better get me that money, or I’ll throw ya outta that outhouse ya call an office!” Empress yelled. “And pronto!” “You know, it’s actually an Apatos-“ Fool’s Gold stopped suddenly as his stomach protested against his bad retort, and emptied what little was left inside of it out of the window. Not far away from this sad scene were Short Fuse and Ambra, just returning from a trip to the convenience store. The former was carrying a plastic bag full of Milo-bottles, while the latter was doing her best to drink every bottle before they got back to the office. The trail of empty plastic bottles behind them was being taken care of by Hideyoshi, who collected them into another plastic bag. In his other hand, the monkey carried an actual bag of groceries. “Ya hafta be kiddin’ me… Why’d I hafta buy a bag ‘a Milo just so she ain’t eatin’ the groceries before we even get home!?” Fuse complained. Because you thought that taking in a ravenous gryphon was a good idea. “That just ain’t right,” the mare grumbled, keeping a close eye on Ambra. While the trio continued on their way back to the office, the fight between the landlady and her tenant had escalated into an all-out war of throwing both insults and whatever random items they could get their hooves on, interrupted occasionally by an arc of vomit shooting out the window. This narrator is not surprised that Short Fuse and company were left staring at the scene with their mouths agape. “What?” Fool’s Gold groaned, shooting a bloodshot glare at his employees. “You haven’t seen a pony negotiate the rent before!?” “Nah, ya bein’ the shame ‘a all protagonists everywhere ain’t nothing new,” Short Fuse cruelly shoved aside Gold’s question. The shock was enough for Fool’s Gold to recoil and slump down to the floor. “What’s shockin’ is... that!” Short Fuse shouted and pointed at the wall of the office. There, smack-dab in the middle of the wall, was something that really did not belong on Yoshiwara Street. Colorful lines crisscrossed along the wooden surface, creating shapes that vaguely resembled letters. Bold shades of paint came together in a display of nonsense that tried to be both cool and hip, but only came across as tacky and pretentious. In other words, someone had painted graffiti on the office’s wall. “What the…?” Fuse mumbled. Ambra burped after finishing the last Milo-bottle and nodded. “Vandalism. Unforgivable,” the small gryphon stated. “I’ll erase. The culprit.” “No ya won’t!” Fuse retorted. “Don’t go jumpin’ straight ta killin’ them!” Short Fuse gave an angry glare towards Hideyoshi, who had started assembling something out of groceries that suspiciously resembled a railgun after Ambra’s declaration. The monkey quickly put the celery back. “What is that even tryin’ ta spell?” Fuse asked, scrunching her face. “That ain’t proper language!” On the wall there was a wonky-looking letter Z that seemed to have something like the udder supports used by some cows hanging from it. This strange combination was followed by the number four with a bright-green mushroom growing out of it. All of these were outlined in a magenta glow that clashed painfully with the rest of the color scheme. “Ook!” Hideyoshi piped up, pointing at the graffiti. “Ook, uk!” “Yeah,” Ambra said and nodded. “It’s obvious.” “Whaddya mean it’s obvious?” Fuse demanded to know. “I know ya can’t really understand ‘dat monkey, so stop pretendin’!” “I mean it,” Ambra answered. “The meaning. It’s clear. See? It’s a Z… followed by a bra.” “Oh. Oh!” Fuse’s face lit up in realization. “Zee… bra. Zebra! Followed by four, as in ‘for’! Zebra for… what does that mushroom mean?” Ambra’s expression betrayed the slightest hint of a smug smile. “Easy,” the gryphon said and tapped her beak with her claw. “A life.” “Oh ya hafta be kiddin’ me…” Short Fuse groaned and hit her forehead with her hoof. I’m afraid she isn’t. That gryphon is dead serious when it comes to breaching the acceptable boundary of making references. “So, in oddah words, it spells out: ‘Zebra for life’? That’s still clunky,” Short Fuse said. “Whoever wrote that ain’t getting’ points for grammar.” “Y’all haven’t seen these before?” Empress suddenly asked, catching everypony’s attention. She was now smoking her pipe by the window, and her expression had softened a bit. “Them graffiti are all over the Shangri-La District these days. Some damn hooligan goes around sprayin’ them everywhere. In other words, they’re becomin’ a real pain. I even heard that mafia’s payin’ good money to anypony who catches the culprit.” “Money… you say?” The suddenly energized voice of Fool’s Gold echoed from inside the office. The golden-maned stallion, having recovered from the annihilation of his pride, had climbed back up to his feet and now had a greedy glint in his eyes. His mouth turned into a smirk and he fished a cigarette from the pack in his pocket before proceeding to light it. The smoke floated upwards, enveloping Gold’s face and giving him a rather devilish image. “How much money?” Gold asked. “Enough to pay our rent?” “I’d think so,” Empress answered and shrugged. “Ya know mafia’s jobs always pay well. And it seems that this hooligan vandalized their headquarters a few days ago. They’re really out to get him.” “Excellent!” Fool’s Gold picked up his clothes from the floor, threw on his haori and wrapped his scarf around his neck, then he picked up his jutte and stuck it to its small scabbard. In just few seconds, he had transformed from a pony puking his lungs out into a well-dressed warrior. All because of a single word: money. Just how greedy is this stallion anyways…? “A’ight! We’re off to hunt this vandal!” Fool’s Gold announced to his team. “We’ll get enough money to pay the rent, and this’ll get the mafia off our backs. Two birds with one stone! Quick, Hideyoshi! Get me my hair of the dog! We’ll be off after that!” As he ordered, the monkey quickly snatched a tuft of fur from a nearby stray dog, stuck it into something he picked up off the ground, and flung it straight at Gold’s face. As the projectile hit him and splattered all over the room, it became apparent that it had been a monkey’s turd. “I meant a shot of whiskey, you stupid ape!” Fool’s Gold roared, trying to wipe the feces off. “Ook!” **** As the freelancer-team Gold Standard once again hit the streets of Yoshiwara District, they began to realize that the graffiti problem was more widespread than they had initially thought. Everywhere, from hostess clubs to mahjong parlors, one could see countless tags and increasingly more complex pieces of art. The graffiti ranged from almost-hidden pieces to bold ones that caused everypony who saw them to frown disapprovingly. Sure, there might have been ponies that thought the graffiti as cool, but for most they were nothing more than an eyesore. This narrator draws the line at the bright pink graffiti that had been spray-painted on the ass of a bum sleeping on the roadside. “So, how’re we gonna find that culprit?” Short Fuse asked. “It ain’t gonna be easy ta find him, ya know.” “On the contrary,” Fool’s Gold said and flashed a grin. “I know just the place to go.” Having said that, Gold suddenly switched directions and headed straight for a small alley just off of the main street. He led them into the shadows of the tall buildings, to a narrow space that seemed to be a completely different dimension compared to the eastern splendor and grime of Yoshiwara Street. No, in fact, it may as well have been another dimension. “W-what the…!?” Short Fuse exclaimed. Somepony had really been doing some work on the alley. The walls had been painted to resemble brick walls and dumpsters had been lined up against them along with a ridiculous amount of junk. The bricks were covered with graffiti more elaborate than anything they had seen on Yoshiwara Street proper. Even the ground of the alley had been painted a concrete-gray, as if the whole alley was trying to mimic the appearance of a Manehattan slum. “This town never ceases ta amaze me…” Short Fuse said and sighed. “Who’d have thunk it could get even more ridiculous?” “This is the place where all the immigrants without specified places end up in,” Fool’s Gold explained as they headed further into the alley. “These alleys run everywhere, connecting the main streets of Shangri-La. You could call them the armpits of a bum, or a seedy underbelly of a seedy underbelly. Something like that.” “Seedy underbelly of a seedy underbelly,” Ambra mumbled. “Isn’t that… seedy nether regions?” “Shaddap, ya birdbrained fledgling!” Fuse shouted and swatted the gryphon on the head. “You’re too young ta talk ‘bout such dirty things!” “Quiet, both of you,” Fool’s Gold suddenly ordered. “We’re getting into their territory.” This got the attention of everypony in the group. “Who’s they?” Fuse asked, cocking an eyebrow. “The locals?” “Yeah. In other words…” Gold said and pointed ahead with his hoof. “… The gangs.” There, sitting on the dumpsters and leaning on the walls, was a bunch of ponies accompanied by creatures easily recognizable by their striped coats. Zebras and ponies, numbering nine in total, were lazing around in the alley. Some of them were smoking, some of them were drinking cheap alcohol, others were simply chatting about this and that… and all of them were listening to the strange, pounding music blasting from the boombox on top of one of the dumpsters. Stiff beats and the pounding lyrics were something foreign to both Short Fuse and Ambra… but judging how Fool’s Gold frowned, he was familiar with the genre. Their arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. One of the three ponies in the scene, a milky white stallion dressed up in baggy clothing, jumped down from the dumpster and walked up to them, sizing Fool’s Gold up. “Yo yo, punk, you in a retard mood?” the pony said. “You ain’t gonna just walk through our hood!” “What? Your hood?” Gold asked, tilting his head and staring at the hoodie the pony was wearing. “Sorry, we’re not the laundry-service. You might want to try the laundromat two blocks from here.” “Are you tripping or sumthing?” the stallion continued, adopting a pissed off expression. “Mofo’, you talking to the hood’s king!” “Burger King?” Fool’s Gold said in a condescending tone. “I think there are few in De Wallen Street, but you aren’t going to get the kids’ meal at that age, man.” “You aboutta get jumped if you continue to diss!” The pony was now half-yelling. “You in da wrong place, ya better know dis!” Even if the stallion was about to say more, he never got the chance. With a pissed-off expression, Fool’s Gold performed a beautiful uppercut to the pony’s jaw, sending him flying a couple of meters backwards. With steam blowing from his nostrils, the fuming stallion pointed at the knocked-out pony and made a rather vulgar gesture with his front legs. “Don’t you talk shit about my piss!” Gold roared. “I haven’t got a bladder infection, no matter what you heard from that Miss!” “Nobody cares, Boss!” Short Fuse yelled, looking ready to strangle her employer. “An’ why did ya hafta rhyme, too!?” The situation had quickly gone from bad to worse. With one of them knocked out cold, the rest of the gang was now glaring at the group and bringing out switchblades and baseball bats. It seemed that amongst the trash, they had hidden a small arsenal. Predicting where this confrontation was heading, Short Fuse readied the dull sword on her waist and Ambra cracked her knuckles. Even Hideyoshi wiped off his stupid grin and pounded the ground few times with his fists. However, this electric stand-off was quickly defused by a high-pitched female voice echoing from the back of the group. “Chillax, homies, no need to be blunt,” the voice ordered. “When I’m through, these punks gonna regret their stunt.” To the amazement of the freelancers, the group of zebras and ponies quickly made way for the owner of the voice, putting away their weapons. This enigmatic boaster made her way through the crowd, striding confidently before Fool’s Gold. Now in the light, the group could see her clearly… and they had hard time believing their eyes. “You’re being led by a… runt?” Fool’s Gold asked, lapsing into rhyme in confusion. Standing before them was a zebra filly, probably no older than fourteen years old. Her stripe-pattern resembled zigzagging lines of the graffiti on the walls, and her mane had been put up on dreadlocks. The filly was dressed up in a white-and-red throwback jersey with a large gold-painted chain around her neck. She was peering at Gold over cheap knock-off aviators, condescending expression on her face. “Who ya calling a runt, foo’, lemme tell it to ya straight,” the filly started rhyming. “Keep yapping and we’ll play ya like 808!” Whatever the filly had thought she’d achieve with her intervention didn’t come to pass. Instead, she got her share of the previous pony’s fate as Fool’s Gold, looking even more annoyed, uppercutted her mercilessly and sent her flying. “Who are you calling 88!?” Gold shouted. “I may look like this, but I’m still at the perfect age to mate!” “Ain’t nobody who wants ta know that!” Short Fuse roared and delivered a punch to her employer’s jaw that made the previous ones pale in comparison. “An’ stop punchin’ them! Especially the foal! Ya damn child-beater!” Fool’s Gold landed right next to the zebra foal, and for a moment both of them were trying to recover with poor results. Their eyes swirled in their heads, and made them look strangely similar, like a pair of idiotic siblings. “One wicked wifey ya got there, foo’” the filly finally managed to say. “One hella jab she got there, too. Ain’t nopony to blame here, though, but you. When you hit me, Mo’ Fo’, ya made the wrong move.” “Can it, pipsqueak,” Gold groaned and gave the filly a glare. “I’m tired of hearing your pseudo-singing, especially now that my headache’s back.” “Then what’cha doing here in the hood?” the filly asked, frowning. “Even I can see you’re up to no good.” “We’re here ta catch the vandal who’s been paintin’ all over Shangri-La District,” Short Fuse said, taking over the conversation. “An’ anyway, who are ya idiots? Ya wanna start something?” The zebra filly adopted a smug grin and stood up. She nodded to the gang around her, and they gathered in a half-circle as if they were trying to intimidate the freelancers. Unfortunately they were up against an idiot, a muscle-head, a featherbrain and a monkey. They would have fared better trying to intimidate a brick wall. “What’s with the hate, when you don’t know my homies?” The foal asked. “Tread light or we’ll bust you up fo’reals!” Then the foal proceeded to point the older equines, from left to the right. “Here’s Nice Cube, Red Mare, Bust-a-Reigns, and No Biggie,” the foal introduced the gang. “Along with Dr. Dreija, Peasy-Tea, Joy See and Gas, fo’shizzle.” “An’ the one lyin’ there on the ground?” Short Fuse inquired. The filly sighed. “That’s Vanilla Dice… he’s not exactly as tough as he claims,” the filly told them. “And I’m Nacondi, this gang’s heart an’ brains.” “Oh, wow,” Fool’s Gold commented as he climbed back up to his feet. “I think we found out what happens to all the foals with parents who couldn’t come up with a good pun to save their lives.” “Don’cha care ‘bout Boss, he’s an idiot,” Short Fuse assured Nacondi, before narrowing her eyes. “But we’d like ta ask some questions, ya know? Do ya know who’s doin’ all those graffiti?” To the surprise of the ponies, Nacondi hit her chest proudly with her hoof, and flashed a grin. “You better believe it was me, sistah!” The filly boasted. “I’ve tagged half of Canterlot alone, dah!” “That tears it,” Fool’s Gold grunted and eyed Nacondi suspiciously. “Both the rhyme and your claim. Are you saying that a little runt like you managed to vandalize every house from here to royal castle? Why would you even to that?” “To spread the word, to let them know, the might of the gangs ain’t suppressed, yo!” Nacondi proclaimed. “No matter what they try, we ain’t going down. Through our tags we show that now we own this town! Graffiti, rakugaki, no matter what they call it, it’s our way of life that we won’t quit! When came to his hood, we were promised riches, but instead of that, we were played like-“ “Okay, okay, I get it!” Fool’s Gold shouted and stuck his hoof into the filly’s mouth to shut her up. “Still, watch the language, will you? We’re rated teen, after all…” Yeah, like you are the prime example of civilized language and etiquette. “Shut up! This is different, she’s still a minor!” Fool’s Gold retorted. “Anyways, that’s it? Canterlot wasn’t the city of opportunity it claimed to be, so you turned to vandalism?” To the group’s surprise, Nacondi became downcast all of a sudden. She paved the ground with her hoof and her eyes seemed to wander anywhere but to the faces of the freelancers. Even the gang around her seemed to be both uncomfortable and somber, as if Gold’s question had momentarily pierced through their ridiculous façade of fake-Manehattan. However, just as quickly as she had fallen silent, Nacondi recovered and punched the nearby dumpster with her hoof, making the whole alleyway ring. “It ain’t like we got a choice, it’s all we got left!” Nacondi complained. “Without it, we’d face life of poverty and theft! Canterlot was s’posed to be a dream come true, but we got pushed here like some kinda taboo. Shangri-La sucks, don’t you see? Even if in here was born Nacondi! We lost our hopes, we lost our dreams, all the homies that I know ain’t as confident as they seem. So we take it back, our culture and beats, and we go out there and spread it to the streets! Our tags will set a message to all of ponykind, and we spit rhymes hot to wake up the blind! With this style we stand tall, together or alone, and put our mark to this city where we have no h-h-h…” At this point, the filly’s ever-growing bravado seemed to have reached its peak, as she was clearly holding back tears and trying very hard not to show how her voice was quivering. Short Fuse looked at her with a worried expression, taking a step towards her. When the filly didn’t seem to retreat or avoid her, the mare walked straight up to her and wrapped her front leg around her, pulling Nacondi into an awkward hug. “Hmh. Figures,” Fool’s Gold snorted and lit up a cigarette which he brought to his lips. “This is Shangri-La District, after all.” Poverty and hardships; Poor living conditions and no hope for the future; That was, in essence, what Shangri-La District had become. Ever since the first immigrants had arrived to Equestria, there had been a plan to build them a place of their own in Canterlot. However, what had started as an idealistic endeavor had quickly become a project shoved around from one unwilling politician to another. Nopony wanted to take the responsibility for the ever-growing flow of immigrants, and thus, the dream of a shining district had turned into a ghetto where the locals spent every day just trying to survive. It was not that unheard of a story, even in Equestria. “It doesn’t make it any more justified,” Fool’s Gold grumbled. I agree with you there, protagonist. “No good. Won’t do it,” Ambra suddenly said, walking up to Nacondi. “No reward is big enough. I don’t wanna catch her.” “H-huh? Are ya pityin’ me fool!?” Nacondi demanded to know. She swatted Fuse’s leg away and glared at the gryphon. “If ya do, I’m gonna bust you up, tool!” “No. Not pity,” Ambra simply replied, and to the zebra-filly’s surprise, extended her claw in a fist. “You’re cool. I like your style. I wanna help you.” “T-that’s right, I’m as cool as there is! I’m this town’s toughest Miss!” Nacondi replied, covering her surprise with another heaping of bravado. She quickly dried her eyes and bumped Ambra’s claw with her hoof. “You know, this birdie really does get it! Outta these dudes you’re only one who’s legit! You’re mile above all those other hens, so gimme your name, if you wanna be… f-friends.” It seemed that Nacondi’s embarrassment caught up to her, making her stumble over the last word and look away with reddened cheeks. Short Fuse chuckled at the sight, as did many of the ponies and zebras who were watching. Only Fool’s Gold seemed uninterested in this birth of a strange friendship. “Name’s Ambra,” the gryphon replied. “I’m the leader of this group.” “Like hell you are!” Fool’s Gold roared from the sidelines. “You’re the freeloader who empties our fridge every week!” “Okay, I’m not,” Ambra admitted and shrugged nonchalantly. “Mistakes happen. That idiot is the leader.” “Oh? In that case, mind if I ask you to get our crew out of here, signore?” In that instant, the atmosphere on the alley became electric. All heads snapped to the direction that the unknown voice had come from, only to find something very unexpected. What had been an empty alley leading back to the main street was now occupied by eleven stallions wearing pinstripe suits and brimmed hats. These stallions sneered at them, chuckling under their breaths like they had just graduated from the elementary school of villainy. Undoubtedly, these were wisecolts; in other words, part of the mafia. “Fancy running into you here, signore Gold,” the stallion who had previously spoken continued, tipping his hat to Fool’s Gold. “It’s been a while since we last met.” Indeed, this was a face that all of them recognized. The wisecolt they had dubbed as “Joey,” his real name being One Ear, once again stood before them. This time, however, there seemed to be a threatening aura around him, as if he had stopped finally fooling around. Hard to believe, right? I mean, so far he’s been nothing but a running gag… “Shaddap! It’s not like I wanted it!” Joey retorted before turning his attention back to Fool’s Gold. “Anyways, let’s cut the crap. You know very well who I am, and who I represent, right?” Fool’s Gold swallowed hard. His eyes glared intently at One Ear, spark of realization lighting up in them. Finally, he pointed at the stallion with his hoof and his brows turned into a frown. “Y-you…” Fool’s Gold muttered, as if unable to believe his eyes. This made One Ear’s sneer widen. Suddenly, Gold’s face lit up in realization. “Ooh! You’re Tough Toffee, right? Back from high school? Man, it’s been so long, I almost didn’t recognize you!” Fool’s Gold said and laughed, patting One Ear to the shoulder. “You’re still working for that survey group? You always were a busy pony, and I see things haven’t changed a bit! I’d like to stay and chat, but we’re in a middle of something here…” “Capodecina! They’re making fun of us!” one of the wisecolts shouted from the sidelines. Another one nodded repeatedly. “Yeah! They’re making fun of us, Tough Toffee!” “Who’s Tough Toffee!?” One Ear retorted. “The name’s Jo… Erm, One Ear! Anyways! We’re here to bring that brat to Capofamiglia. We knew that by posting a reward for catching her would get the attention of you guys, and you’d, in turn, lead us straight to her. You know, Capofamiglia ain’t too happy about you gangs vandalizing our headquarters.” “Well, tough luck!” Vanilla Dice, having recovered from his earlier beat down, shouted and charged towards the wisecolts. “But we ain’t giving a f-“ His sentence was cut short, as the assault was stopped dead in its tracks by One Ear. With one swing from a baseball bat, the stallion sent the milky white pony barreling into the trash bins, unconscious. One Ear clicked his tongue, threw the shaft of dark wood to one of his comrades, and gave a mocking look to the stallion groaning on the ground. “Put some ice on it, baby,” One Ear said, before turning his attention back to the rest of them. I wouldn’t advise trying to get smart with us. We have a way of dealing with overly-eager idiots. And since we only want the brat, we have no reason to hurt the rest of you. Think about it.” “… Whaddya plan ta do ta her?” Short Fuse growled, narrowing her eyes. One Ear chuckled and made a vague gesture with his front leg. “Oh, nothing much. You see, our boss figured that we would have to be paid at least 15, 000 bits for all the suffering we’ve had because of that graffiti in our walls. You know, for compensation,” he explained. “And I doubt she has that sort of money. So we’ll just have to find some way to make her useful to us.” Hearing those words, Nacondi took a step back, a slightly panicky expression appearing on her face. Seeing this, Ambra fiercely stepped between the wisecolts and the zebra-filly, glaring at the older ponies with all her might. Beside the gryphon, Hideyoshi was snarling and cracking his knuckles. “Oh, no need to get so angry. Even we don’t want this to get ugly, you know?” One Ear said and sighed. “Well… I guess we could find some sort of compromise. Perhaps we’d have you do something for us… a test, if you will… and if you pass it, we’ll forget about the compensation. Whaddya say?” “Test? What sorta test?” Fuse demanded to know. “If ya plan on hurtin’ this filly…” “No, no! We ain’t monsters, you know? Just respectable business-stallions,” One Ear replied. “Well, let’s see… since your graffiti has become rather well-known around the Shangri-La District, what if we put them towards a good use? They recently finished the clock tower at the center of De Wallen Street, and it could really use some spicing up regarding the paintjob. So, if you could liven it up with your graffiti, we’d be more than happy to drop the issue of the money. However, there’s one problem…” “Of course there is,” Fool’s Gold snorted and took a drag from his cigarette. “You’re making her an offer she cannot refuse, after all.” “Okay, that was low, even for you,” One Ear commented, to which Gold replied only by shrugging innocently. “But, indeed, this is supposed to be a punishment for you for defacing our headquarters. If you want to get out of this by simply covering the tower with graffiti, you have to do it by time the sun rises tomorrow. And nopony from your gang can help you, this is your personal punishment.” This caused a disapproving murmur amongst the zebras and the ponies. They knew that even for the lot of them, covering the new clock tower with graffiti would have been a tall order in such a short amount of time. For a single filly, it was nigh impossible. It was clear that these wisecolts had no intention of honoring their deal; they simply wanted to humiliate Nacondi, as well as still get their money. However, defying everypony’s expectations, the small filly took a brave step forward, staring straight at One Ear. “O-okay, I’m gonna do what ya ask!” she proclaimed. “And I’m gonna succeed in this task! I’m gonna show you not to mess with me, so clearly even the blind can see!” “Oh, I’m sure you will,” One Ear replied with a smug smile. “Well, if that’s your decision, then we’ll be taking our leave. Wouldn’t want to keep you too long from your task.” So, after giving a condescending laugh, the group of wisecolts left the alleyway. The gang and the freelancers stared at their receding backs, only able to relax after last of them had disappeared around the corner. Once they were out of sight, the zebras all turned to Nacondi, shouting at her for being stupid enough to fall for the trap of the mafia; Nacondi, too proud to admit that she had just gotten herself deeper into trouble, yelled right back at her friends, defending her choice. It was only seconds into this quarrel before Short Fuse stepped in, silencing everypony down with a single glare. “Okay, stop bickerin’!” She half-shouted. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilt milk. Ya just hafta do your best.” “Ain’t no way she can do it all alone! The mafia’s just humiliating her, yo!” one of the zebras protested. “Ya know, though they said ya guys can’t help…” Short Fuse said with a sly grin. “It ain’t hafta be ya guys. They didn’t say anything ‘bout us.” This made the gang fall silent from surprise. Nacondi looked at the freelancers, eyes wide from surprise. “Y-you’d help me out, you’d tag the place with me? You’d watch my back, even though you’re busy?” Nacondi asked. “Of course. We’re friends, now,” Ambra answered. “Friends help each other.” “Ook!” Hideyoshi chimed in, pounding his chest. “Yeah. Ain’t no way I’m leavin’ a filly ta the mercy ‘a them mobsters,” Short Fuse added, turning to look at Fool’s Gold. “Don’cha agree, Boss?” To the mare’s surprise, the only thing she saw was the back of her employer. Fool’s Gold was already leaving the alley, and gave a half-hearted wave of goodbye to them, without even bothering to look back. “Like hell I’m gonna get dragged into something like this. Count me out,” Gold answered. “Besides, I think I left my favorite haori to my friend’s place where I was drinking last night. I need to go pick that up.” Short Fuse was left speechless, and before she could call out to her employer or ask him to stop, the golden-maned stallion had already disappeared from the alley, heading for the main street. All that he left behind was a trail of cigarette-smoke that drifted in the air, like a testimony of his desire to vanish now that a chance had been presented. An awkward silence reigned now in the alleyway, as nopony had expected Gold to simply abandon them because he didn’t feel like getting tangled up in more trouble. “Boss… why would ya…” Short Fuse muttered. Then, shaking her head, she turned back to the group and gave them an encouraging grin. “Forget ‘bout that idiot! This ain’t actually a bad thing. ‘Cuz now we don’t hafta worry about him screwin’ things up!” “So… we’re gonna do this?” Ambra asked. “Yeah!” Short Fuse answered. “Let’s get to it!” **** The night around De Wallen Street, Canterlot was suddenly awash with colors. In the black of the night, illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, something that seemed like explosions of rainbow color seemed to bloom at the root of the Shangri-La Clock tower. The sizzling sound of aerosol, the constant splats of the brushes hitting the wooden surface, and the clanks of the buckets hitting the ground created a cacophony of creation that filled the darkness. Flying high like a bomber, Ambra attacked the clock tower from above, swooping with buckets of black paint to cover the surface of the clock tower in a completely black base. Whenever she ran out, she stopped on the ground to grab fresh buckets, graciously donated by an “unknown” group of zebras who just “happened” to pass by. I swear, these gangsters are cheaters just like the mafia. The gryphon also prepared the ropes and planks which the ponies needed in order to gain access to the higher parts of the clock tower. It was like a game of Lemmings, Ambra staying always only few steps ahead of the rest of the group. Of course, the difference between these two “games” was that while in one failure meant a hilarious death for the characters, here there was the additional danger of being smacked with a fine that would make even Princess Celestia go pale. Attacking this covered-up surface the moment it had dried was Hideyoshi, drawing outlines with white paint. In his other hand was the black book of Nacondi, from which he got the instructions for what he was supposed to draw next. The zebra filly’s wildstyle piece had started simple, a back-to-back graffiti that ran along the width of the clock tower’s wall, covering all walls. However, after a while, it had started to climb halfway to the top of the tower. The zigzagging lines, arrows and letters created a chaotic image full of emotions and passion, something that was reflected in the eyes of the monkey. Following in Hideyoshi’s wake was Short Fuse. She came armed with a gigantic brush and an array of spray cans, which she used to fill in the outlines and put the secondary colors in place. It was a full spectrum of colors, starting from the purple at the root of the clock tower and continuing through blue, green, yellow to red and repeating again. This vivid display of hues was less like a rainbow and more like an explosion of light, dispersing into all of its visible tints. Finally came Nacondi. A spray can in her mouth, carrying dozens more on her waist, she was the true artist of this piece. Short bursts of movement and emotion flew from her cannons, both Manehattan Thins and Manehattan Fats singing their iridescent song as they painted the wall into a kaleidoscope of color. She didn’t only add the detail to the lettering and the arrows, but added the rest of the piece that was omitted by Short Fuse. For each color, there was an identifying partner: lightning for purple, waves for blue, wind for turquoise, leaves for green, cherry blossoms for pink… the imagination of the filly seemed endless. This was no longer just a bomb; no, this was a bona fide burner. What about the rest of Nacondi’s gang? After doing their “donation,” they graciously stepped aside, leaving the four to work on the piece undisturbed. However, there was still the problem of a guard or two possibly stumbling upon the group on their patrol, and arresting their asses before anypony could exclaim “Zephyr!” Therefore, a distraction was in order. Which brings us to this brilliant idea, conceived by none other than Vanilla Dice… “With magic of friendship, we’ll act like fillies! ‘Cause both us and ponies will be eating jellies!” Wait, wait, waaaait! I can let lyrics in a text-based story slide, I can let bad puns slide, I can let the suffocating values of friendship slide… But! You’re treading a very dangerous line right there! There isn’t anyone out there who doesn’t know what you’re referencing! The protests of this narrator were completely ignored by the group in the street corner, and they continued their impromptu rap concert, led by the aforementioned Vanilla Dice. Indeed, it was a very good idea in theory: after all, just hearing something as vulgar as rap music was assured to divert all the attention from the group bombing the clock tower with their piece. However, it had the underlying problem that this was not a song chosen by anypony talented. Instead the gang was forced to follow the lead of the overly-eager pony jumping up and down at the helm of the group. Both the zebras and the other ponies of the gang all looked like they wanted to strangle the milky white stallion, but couldn’t do it without raising suspicions. Thus they had to swallow their impotent rage and continue the rap about going ninjas. So the hours passed, with Nacondi and the freelancers doing their best to completely cover the face of the newly-built De Wallen Street clock tower with graffiti, while their friends continued to rap without stopping, only switching the singers every once in a while to let the others rest. It was truly an endurance test unlike anything seen in this city before; and with that I mean, it was the stupidest one. However, eventually the morning came, and as the first rays of the sun started hitting the rooftops of De Wallen Street, Nacondi put down her spray can and breathed a sigh of relief. Completely exhausted, she collapsed backwards, slumping to the ground where Short Fuse, Ambra and Hideyoshi were already laying. Not a word was spoken between the four of them, but all of them shared the same sensation of accomplishment and pride. Yes, they had succeeded in their task. As the sunlight finally revealed the clock tower from the shadows, the inhabitants of the De Wallen Street could see that it had been covered in a colorful display of graffiti, top-to-bottom. “I never thought I’d say this to a gryphon or a pony,” Nacondi suddenly said with an exhausted voice. “But after this, each of you can count yourself as my homie.” “I think we can be proud ‘a ourselves,” Short Fuse spoke. “Neither the mafia or the locals should complain ‘bout the quality ‘a this piece.” “Agreed,” Ambra answered. “Good work. Saved Nacondi.” “Ook!” Hideyoshi chimed in, and pointed his thumbs towards the sky. As the group finally started to get up from the ground, they saw that their work on the clock tower was finally being noticed. Ponies and other creatures stared at it with wide eyes, and a murmur began to spread throughout the crowd that was starting to gather. Wearing embarrassed grins, the group stood before the clock tower and got ready for the tidal wave of questions, comments, and perhaps even praise from the locals. However… “T-they have defaced the new clock tower!” “Barbarians! Thugs!” “Such vandalism! All that hard work, only to be ruined by a bunch of brats!” “Get them! Don’t allow them to get out of this without punishment!” …instead of wonder and curiosity, they were met with disdain, anger, and hostility. The crowd was quickly turning into a mob, and the pitchfork and torch salesponies were already raking in the profits. The business sense of these vultures was as impeccable as ever. Then again, with the rising levels of rage in the crowd, it was difficult not to see what would happen if nopony stepped forward to stop the lynching. Much to everypony’s surprise, somepony did step out of the crowd. The wide-brimmed hat, the pinstripe suit and the smug grin was enough to tell who he was. The expressions on the tagging group’s faces changed into those of anger when One Ear casually strode out of the mob and stopped right in front of them. The wisecolt seemed extremely pleased with himself, as if a plan he had been cooking up for months had finally come to a fruition; like it probably had. Seriously, none of you four idiots saw this coming? You’re dealing with the mafia. “Oh dear. It seems that I made a bit of miscalculation,” One Ear said and chuckled. “Who’d have thought that these civilized creatures wouldn’t like this so-called art, brat? My, this is certainly shocking.” “Watch it, ya punk,” Short Fuse said and growled. “Don’cha know that it ain’t wise ta mess with a former Royal Guard?” “Yes, the Ogre Filly of the Royal Guard… I’ve heard about you, Short Fuse,” One Ear answered. “I’ve also heard about the shameful way you were thrown out after causing the umpteenth hospitalization of a commanding officer. Not one to mince words, are you?” “Ya got that right,” Fuse stated. “I’m more ‘bout mincin’ bones, ya see?” When face-to-face with the dreadful glare of the blue mare, even One Ear had to take a nervous step back. However, as he felt the presence of the mob behind him, he recomposed himself. The crowd had already gotten to the point of shouting profanities at random and searching for fruit-stands to topple during the chase that could start any minute. No matter how powerful Short Fuse and Ambra were, this was one situation they couldn’t fight themselves out. “Now, I believe you have something that belongs to us.” One Ear made an inviting gesture with his front leg. “Time to hand it over or—“ In that instant, the wisecolt was hit straight to the face by a brown and rather disgustingly smelly projectile. “Ook!” Hideyoshi shouted mischievously, stretching his arms like a baseball player. “There,” Ambra said. “We’ve given it back.” “This monkey turd was not what I meant!” One Ear roared and wiped the feces off his face. “I’ve never loaned you any of that! In fact, you’re the ones who keep throwing me with it! What sort of disgusting pet would even do such a thing!?” After this outburst, it took the wisecolt few seconds to once again compose himself. “What I meant was the money. 15,000 bits, like you remember,” One Ear said with a smirk. “For that price, I might be willing to calm down this crowd for you. But, if you’re willing to face the wrath of the mob angered by your so-called art, be my guest. I can always wait for them to finish, and pick up that brat afterwards. I’m sure we’ll find many uses for you so that you can pay back what you owe, even if you are a bit battered and bruised.” Nacondi was gritting her teeth and showing a defiant face, but the way she was nearly glued to Short Fuse’s side showed how the filly really felt. Growing angry at her inability to find a way out of this trap, Short Fuse let her gaze wander across the crowd, trying to find a suitable point to attack. Maybe, if she found a weak link in the mob, she could break through the ring of creatures that had gathered around them. That way they could escape, at least for the time being. Hmh, I hafta find some weakling… ah! Short Fuse’s eyes focused on a certain lazy looking pony in the crowd. Maybe that golden-maned idiot! He looks like he ain’t gonna put up much of a… Short Fuse’s thoughts grinded to a halt and her jaw dropped. “So, what’s it gonna be?” One Ear said and chuckled with his best 90’s villain impression. “Pay me 15 000 bits, or—“ “15 000 bits? Sold!” Out of the crowd of angry locals, a new, much more refined voice rose to overpower the vile shouts. The sea of ponies suddenly parted as if the Muleses was leading his creatures through it, but instead of a theological figure who may or may not have been real, what the group saw was something far more mundane… and at the same time, something far more unexpected. Moving like he had been on a dance floor, a stylish grey stallion with a white, well-kept mane strode into the clearing, his sapphire-colored eyes lording over the crowd with their fabulous authority. The mere appearance of this pony seemed to bring with him a refreshing breeze that carried the beat of a funky tune. He readjusted his sunglasses, gave a theatrical nod to the crowd, and then turned his attention back to One Ear and Nacondi. In the middle of the poorest district of Canterlot, the fashion mogul known as Hoity Toity had appeared. “Silence, please. We are conducting business here,” Hoity Toity spoke and clapped his hooves together, calming down the group with that single gesture. He then turned to look at One Ear. “Now, you said that the price of this magnificent designer was only 15 000 bits? Consider it a deal. Here.” Having said that, Hoity Toity gave a nod to one of the ponies in the crowd, and the pony fetched a silver briefcase that could only be full of one thing. Indeed, when it was thrust to the hooves of One Ear and the wisecolt opened it, there appeared to be an endless amount of golden coins in there, as if the briefcase had been bigger on the inside. Before One Ear could get even a word in the edgewise, he had been entrusted with the money. “B-but… I… I mean, what…” One Ear stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. “W-w-what just happened!?” “You got your money. Aren’t you glad?” Another voice, a far more familiar, joined the conversation. “You don’t have to pester a young filly anymore. I’d imagine this will prevent your reputation from being tarnished any further.” From the edge of the former mob, wearing a huge, smug grin, appeared Fool’s Gold. The golden-maned stallion seemed to be on the verge of bursting into mocking laughter, only barely containing himself. One Ear took a long look at the briefcase, then at Gold, and then once more at briefcase. Finally understanding what had just happened, the wisecolt then directed his seething hatred at the golden stallion with a glare that should have bored a hole into the freelancer. “You…! You! So this is why you weren’t here!” The wisecolt spat out. “You knew this whole time what my plan was! And… and you went and did this! How despicable! Cheating criminals!” “Oh, don’t cry,” Fool’s Gold said and puffed a cloud of smoke straight to One Ear’s face from his cigarette. “This way, everpony gets what they want, right? And if I remember right, you were always sucker for happy endings weren’t you, Tough Toffee?” “I’m not Tough Toffee, you dolt! I’m Joey! I mean, One Ear!” the wisecolt roared. “Just you wait! T-this isn’t over yet! It doesn’t matter if we got the money or not, la famiglia will not forget this! You better be on your guard, because one day, we will get our revenge!” Spouting threats like above, One Ear then made a hasty retreat into the crowd, his plans having been thwarted. This left only Fool’s Gold, Hoity Toity, Short Fuse, Ambra, Hideyoshi and one very, very confused Nacondi to the scene. The zebra filly stared at Hoity Toity like Princess of the Sun herself had appeared before her. It was clear that she couldn’t follow a ridiculous plot-twist like this out of the blue. Heck, even this narrator can scarcely believe it. “C-can any of you homies tell me just what’s going on?” Nacondi finally demanded to know. “This suddenly became that story of the ducklings and a swan!” “You are the tagger that this district has been abuzz about, right?” Hoity Toity asked, and when Nacondi gave a careful nod, his face positively lit up. “Oh! Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! You are just the type of talent I’ve been searching for!” Hearing those words, Nacondi took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes before taking another look at Hoity Toity as if to check whether or not she was dreaming. “Y-y-you mean me?” She asked in total shock. “Nacondi,” Ambra said, and nudged her friend. “The rhyme. You forgot.” “A-ah!” the zebra filly exclaimed in surprise, and hurried to finish her sentence. “Just how can that be!?” “Now you’re starting to sound like Hoity,” Fool’s Gold grunted from the sidelines. “Stop it.” “I will make you famous! Your fabulous designs will become known all over Equestria! That brilliant vibrancy of shapes and colors twisted into a refreshing wind of change is just what the fashion industry of this country sorely needs!” Hoity Toity continued with his speech. “You will be a star! Well… that is, if you want to. So, what do you say? Would you work for me?” For a moment, Nacondi stayed silent, her eyes jumping from one corner of the clearing to another, but never anywhere near Hoity Toity. Then, showing great difficulty, she raised her gaze at the grey stallion. Using her front leg, she adjusted her aviator sunglasses so that they reflected the sunlight, and gave an upwards gaze towards the fashion mogul. As an answer, Hoity Toity adjusted his own sunglasses, and the sunlight that reflected from them was like the brilliance of the Crystal Heart. “M-Mentor! Please take under your wing!” Nacondi exclaimed, her face full of adoration at this sight. “I want to be the next big thing!” “Great! Marvelous! Simply divine!” Hoity Toity shouted and spread his front legs towards the skies. “The birth of a new star in the world of fashion happens here and now! This wild style shall make the very foundations of the industry quake!” While this strange bonding between the two sunglass-fanatics was going on, the freelancer team known as Gold Standard was finally reunited. Fool’s Gold walked over to his employees and took a drag out of his cigarette, nonchalantly blowing that cloud of smoke in the air. The expression on the stallion’s face was almost bored, as if he had done nothing in the course of this whole event. “Erm, Boss?” Short Fuse finally spoke up. “How did ya get somepony like Hoity Toity ta come ta check out Nacondi’s work?” “Unbelievable,” Ambra added. “Too big discrepancy. In financial situation.” “Shut it, you birdbrain,” Fool’s Gold said before shrugging. “But, well… this idiot and I go way, way back. In fact, I was drinking at his place just last night. He mentioned something about searching for the one behind the graffiti amidst his drunken slur, and since we found the brat…” Wait, what!? You, the dirt-poor protagonist, know one of the greatest fashion moguls of Equestria!? No matter the shocked faces of your friends, this narrator is beyond surprised! “Shaddap! Who I associate with is my business,” Fool’s Gold retorted and scratched the back of his head. “Even I sometimes wish I didn’t know this fool.” “Pshaw, please,” Hoity Toity said with a smile. “Aren’t we pony-best-friends-forever, Fool?” “Gold! Call me Gold like everypony else does!” Fool’s Gold shouted and smacked Hoity Toity on top of his head. “Want me to tear off that living toupee you call your mane, huh? Want me to make you into a British judge, huh!?” “Still such a hot-head, I see” Hoity said and gave a good-hearted laugh. “But speaking of manes, you really should do something about yours. By heavens, it’s like a bushel of wheat. Seriously, drop by one of my boutiques later, we’ll give you a makeover!” “I don’t need one! A protagonist should always be easily recognizable visually! Changing my looks now would just confuse the few readers we have!” Gold answered. “Anyways, you got what you wanted, right? You have your sidekick. Is there something else, or are we free to go?” For a moment, it seemed that Hoity Toity was about to say something. Then, peering over his sunglasses, he looked Short Fuse, Ambra and Hideyoshi over, and a warm smile spread on his lips. He turned back to his old friend, and patted him on the shoulder, causing Gold to grimace uncomfortably. “Well, there were few things I was going to ask you about… but I think I don’t need to. You seem to be doing just fantastic,” Hoity said. “You don’t even seem to be bothered by her anymore. That’s brilliant.” “Mind your own business,” Gold grunted and swatted his friend’s hoof away. “I still don’t have enough money to pay the rent, I have no idea where I’ll get food tonight, and I’m itching from places I can’t even mention in a teen-rated story… but those are all problems a pony with your stature couldn’t understand. So I’m not doing alright, but there’s nothing you can do about it.” Hoity Toity chuckled and adjusted his sunglasses, at the same time as Gold took a drag from his cigarette. When they did so simultaneously, even the rest of the group could see that this was some sort of ritual that had happened many times before in the past. “Indeed. But, you’ve got your fantabulous golden colors, so not all is bad, right?” the grey stallion said. “Fantabulous, my ass. It’s a trick from the gods of irony, I tell you,” Gold answered and shook his head. “Anyways, we should get going. We still have lot to do.” “Then, I’ll catch you later,” Hoity Toity said and offered his hoof. “Yeah. Later,” Fool’s Gold said while bumping the hoof with his own. He even broke into a small smile, devoid of any of his previous annoyance. While it might have been the stallion’s plan to leave immediately afterwards, there was one creature who wasn’t going to let this chance pass her by. Rushing to stand on his path, Fool’s Gold suddenly found himself face-to-face with Nacondi. The zebra filly seemed to be holding back a huge grin, accompanied by the tiny, happy flush that adorned her cheeks. “Ya know, at first I thought you were a wanksta, but in the end, you were the real gangsta!” Nacondi rhymed and pointed at Gold. “So what, you might not be a good rhyme busta, but after what you did, you’re my brotha!” “I don’t want to be your ‘brotha’, you damn brat,” Gold grumbled at the sight of the beaming filly. “It doesn’t pay my bills nor will it keep me fed. So there’s no point in it.” These dry words made Nacondi back away a bit, surprised that her reconciliation had been met with such indifference. However, just as suddenly as Gold had rejected her, he reached out and mussed her mane. Then, giving just a single lazy wave of goodbye, the stallion headed out, walking away from the clearing and the sight of the clock tower with grandiose colors. “Besides, I’m far too old-fashioned for that, sistah,” Gold said without looking back. “If anything, you should call me soul brotha.” Seeing that this was the time for their exit, the rest of the group hurried after their boss. Short Fuse had a slight grin on her face, and she nudged Gold to the ribs when she caught up to him, earning herself a scowl. Ambra, on the other hand, simply gazed at the stallion with a slightly smug look on her face. Even Hideyoshi seemed like he was about to burst into a laugh, much to the ire of Gold. Watching this scene, both Hoity Toity and Nacondi couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Though really, don’t butcher the slang of the zebra,” Nacondi said to the receding back of the golden-maned stallion. “It’s clear ya don’t know a lick ‘bout it, brotha.” And so, it is with these thoughts and these words that we end this chapter of the story. **** All that Glitters is Gold Chapter 7: End. Once again, Minuette and Twinkleshine were sitting in the otherwise empty theater, gazing at the now dark silver-screen. While Minuette was already pouring through the pamphlet showcasing what else was on, Twinkleshine was staring intently at the screen. “For all of their talk about how bad rap music is, I think they forgot to mention one important fact,” Twinkleshine suddenly said. Minuette raised her head and looked at her friend with confusion in her eyes. “Oh? What’s that?” she asked. Twinkleshine grinned. “Well, unlike rap which can be good or bad, this story can only be the latter!” The two mares bumped their hooves together and burst into bellowing laughter which echoed in the empty movie theater. “Do-ho-ho-ho-hoh!”