Chapter 2
Blueblood stood off to one side, idly sipping a glass of wine, watching as the other members of Trottingham’s elite went about their business. Some would give a nod or flash a smile, and being the courteous guest, Blueblood would return such gestures before moving on. It was just like work: address the problem and move on as quickly as possible. The extra posturing and white lies were just another aspect of life, one that Blueblood was highly adept at.
And ponies say that they know the real Blueblood... Wish I could meet him; he certainly sounds like an interesting pony.
“Ah, there you are.” Blueblood turned as he was approached by Fancy Pants, the Canterlot unicorn followed by a mare, a white unicorn with a two toned pink and white mane. “Fleur, I want you to meet Blueblood, the Prince of Trottingham.”
“Oh, you are royalty?” the mare, Fleur, asked, and Blueblood could detect the smallest hints of an accent in her voice. Foreign... might explain her lack of knowledge of Equestria’s government.
“Well, the title’s just a nickname, although my family has had ties to the Princesses since before the Nightmare Moon incident.” Blueblood countered before offering his hoof to the mare. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fleur.”
“Likewise.” Fleur replied. As Blueblood thought over what he was going to say, he took a moment to analyse Fleur and see just who she was; her body language was rather reserved, so she was not a hard-partying type, and the hint of a blush that formed whenever she looked to Fancy Pants. Spoke of a relationship more than just platonic friends. So that’s why Fancy Pants went to Prance... “So, how exactly do you know Fancy Pants?” She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.
“We’ve collaborated on a few projects in the past.” Blueblood took a sip from his wine. “A charity here, a research project there, things like that. I’d do more, but distance is a bit of an issue.”
“Well, you could always come to Canterlot if you wanted.” Fancy Pants said. “We’ve got a few contacts that you can’t reach in Trottingham, and none of the... less than stellar conditions.”
“I’m sure you do,” Blueblood said evenly. “But I think I’ll stay in Trottingham for a few more years; I don’t think Mane Enterprises is ready for a complete shift in locations.”
“Suit yourself. But still, you should at least visit more often; with all the time you spend here in Trottingham ponies are beginning to say you’ve turned into a brooding shut-in.” Fancy replied, shrugging slightly.
And they would be only half right. Blueblood mused before speaking.
“Well, you’ll just have to tell them that their worries are completely unfound. I’m just dealing with a few business issues right now and can’t really get away.”
“Oh?” Fleur raised an eyebrow. “What kind of business deals?”
“Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure,” Blueblood took a sip from his wine. “Industrial products, contracts, things that most ponies might find to be rather boring. Even I think it’s boring, and I run the company.”
“Oh...” Fleur said, a small hint of disappointment in her voice. Perhaps her interest in Equestria goes beyond Fancy Pants... “Have you considered choosing a different line of work?”
“Well, there’s only one other possible job for somepony like me in a city like this, but the end result would most likely be me in jail.” Blueblood responded, taking another sip from his drink. “To be quite frank, Miss Fleur, I think I’d look absolutely terrible in orange.” this drew a chuckle from the other two, and even made Blueblood almost smile. Almost. “At any rate, I’m sticking to the family business for the foreseeable future.”
Fleur smiled. “I’m sure your family must be very proud of that.”
It was intended as an innocent statement, Blueblood knew that, but he could still feel a chill down his back as he was drawn back to that night, sitting in the snow and watching his parents die. He pulled himself back to reality as quickly as possible, giving a small frown and taking another drink.
“Yes... I’m sure they would be.” He replied darkly. Fortunately for him Fleur seemingly got the message and made no further comments. “Anyway, how long will you two be in Trottingham?”
“Just for a few days before heading back to Canterlot.” Fancy Pants answered. “I’d stay longer, but I can’t say that Trottingham is my favorite city.”
“Guessing that’s why you moved away.” Blueblood took another drink, noticing that Fleur had given Fancy Pants an odd look.
“You never told me you lived here.” she said, more surprised than anything.
Obviously not a sticking point... Blueblood noted.
“I just didn’t think it was all that important.” Fancy Pants countered, giving the mare a more reassuring glance. “After all, why worry about minor things that happened in the past?”
Because those minor things might come back to have major consequences, Blueblood thought, but did not say anything until he finished off the last of his wine. “Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but I best be getting home. Do you know where I can find a phone?”
“There should be one down that hall.” Fancy Pants said, pointing to the hall in question. Blueblood nodded his thanks and departed, navigating through the crowds with surprising grace. A few more ponies tried to speak with him, but Blueblood quickly and politely turned them away until he reached the phone, and older rotary phone with slightly faded finish. Fortunately for Blueblood, he did not have to wait long for an answer.
“Hello?” he heard Pennyworth answer.
“Pennyworth, it’s me.” Blueblood said.
“I suppose you would like me to bring the carriage over now, sir?”
“If it’s reasonable. If not I’ll just see myself back to the manor.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes, sir.” there was a pause before Pennyworth spoke again. “Interesting, it’s only 8:45. Usually you leave engagements such as that one at 8:30.”
“And there’s a problem with that?”
“Of course not, sir.” Pennyworth replied, still as professional as ever. “But if you’d like to maintain your reputation as the mysterious, aloof Blueblood, then you might want to make sure that consistency isn’t an issue.” Blueblood rolled his eyes.
“Just get over here as soon as you can.”
“Yes sir.”
...
It was raining by the time Braeburn left the police station. Trottingham was a bigger city, so there was a tram service available, but Braeburn had come to learn that it was reasonably safer to walk than it was to ride the tram. Still, even with the idea that he was safer walking Braeburn found himself looking from alley to alley, just to make sure that nothing illegal was in the process of happening. that was one thing Braeburn had noticed; ever since joining the Trottingham police force, he had become more attuned to “illegal operations”, and it became harder and harder for him to really let his guard down. And Granny Smith said I was lazy.
Braeburn pulled his overcoat a little tighter, in a vain attempt to stay warm. Fortunately, he could see the apartment building where he lived looming out of the darkness, two of the local drunks already passed out in front of the steps. Braeburn gave a little sigh before stepping over them and making his way up to the door. He had to give the door an extra shove to prevent it from jamming, and his natural Earth Pony strength meant he almost tore the door off its hinges. Braeburn would have filed a complaint, but he was too tired and wet to worry about that.
After drying himself off as best he could, Braeburn took his overcoat off and started up the stairs, idly flicking bits of trash off the stairs. He stopped only to get the occasional piece that stuck to his hoof, which he cast aside for somepony else to deal with. Before he had come to Trottingham, he would have made sure that trash like that was taken care of, but now he really didn’t care.
He had other, more serious forms of trash to deal with.
Braeburn made his way to his apartment, a small, cluttered thing with an old sofa and a brick-like mattress. After setting aside the last of his things, he shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of light cider, just something to help him relax after a rough day. Braeburn did not make a habit of drinking, but after dealing with several “mistrials”, a small scuffle with a few bankrobbers, a thinly veiled bribe attempt, and a complaint from Arkham concerning “4479”, whatever that meant, he felt that he needed a drink or two.
Braeburn sighed, taking a drink of cider before sitting down on the couch, staring out the nearby window at Trottingham. It was a terrible view, but it was better than just staring at a blank wall for a few hours. He took another drink, watching as if something would change.
No, this is Trottingham, he thought. Nothing ever changes.
...
Throughout Trottingham’s underworld, there was one name that was both respected and feared by all: the Falcon. A grey and white feathered griffon, born to a successful crime family, he had come to Trottingham almost ten years prior to make his fortune and expand the family business, his ruthlessness and manipulative nature allowing him to take control of Trottingham’s major criminal organizations in a few months. Criminals respected him, cops and politicians feared him, and he held the reins to many businessponies.
Blueblood might have been the Prince of Trottingham, but the Falcon was its king.
“Boss,” the Falcon was drawn from his drink by one of his subordinate, a thin Earth Pony that the Falcon had temporarily promoted in light of Diamond Hoof’s imprisonment. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“What did he say he wanted?” the Falcon asked, his voice rough from several years of smoking.
“Dunno. Looks like some kinda business type.” The subordinate replied. The Falcon sighed and set his drink aside.
“Tell the boys to keep watch. Hopefully this won’t take long.” He ordered and the pony nodded before exiting. the Falcon took another sip from his drink as the visitor entered, and he recognized the newcomer as a member of the Mane Enterprises board of directors. The Falcon did not usually try to get close to Trottingham’s “Golden Boy”, but having one of his board show up was a surprise to say the least.
“So, you’re the Falcon.” the board member said as the Falcon finished off his drink.
“And you’re either stupid or desperate, if you don’t know who I am.” he replied. “What do you want?”
“I have come to ask... a favor.” Wonderful.
“If it’s money you want I’m sure that a stuffed shirt like you has more than enough.” the Falcon chuckled before continuing. “So what do you really want, that you come directly to me?”
“I need you and your operation to eliminate someone.” the businesspony replied.
“Who? Ex-wife? Mistress? Mistress’ boyfriend.”
“I need you to get rid of Blueblood Mane.” at this, the Falcon laughed.
“You’re joking, right?” the Falcon said through his laughter. “I don’t like the guy myself, but I’m not stupid enough to try and kill him. The last guy that tried that got a one-way ticket to the chair for his troubles. You’re better off asking one of those freelance nutcases that’ve been showing up.”
“I never said you had to kill him.” the businesspony stated, pawing at the ground slightly.
“Then what am I supposed to do with him? Lock him up here?” the Falcon set his drink aside before continuing on. “I might own half the cops in this city, but that doesn’t mean I am one.”
“Listen, me and some of my associates already have a plan in place to replace Blueblood Mane.” the pony managed to compose himself rather well before continuing. “The important part is getting rid of him, and that is where we need someone of your... talents.” the Falcon was beginning to see a better picture of what this pony wanted; get rid of the Golden Boy, and then get a stooge to take his place.
“Okay, say we do go ahead with this.” the Falcon produced a cigar from his desk, turning it over a few times in his to check the quality. “We get rid of the Golden Boy for you, you do whatever it you’ve got cooking, then what? What’s in it for me?”
“I can offer you ten million bits, plus an extra five once our plan is fully complete.” the Falcon took a moment to make sure that the businesspony was leveling with him; fifteen million bits was a lot of money, and nopony sane would throw around that kind of cash unless they were really desperate. I’ll squeeze him for a little more if this works out.
“Make sure it’s in cash.” the Falcon said before lighting his cigar. “I’m not well liked enough to just walk down to the bank and drop off a check.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Great. Come back whenever you want me to do this, and we’ll get the Golden Boy for you.” the pony gave a curt nod and turned to leave before the Falcon spoke again. “Oh, and make sure to turn over whatever cash you’ve got on you to the guys outside. They don’t just stand there to look pretty.”
“I have already offered you enough.” the businesspony countered, glaring at the Falcon. There was a pause before the griffon chuckled.
“You know what? Keep the change; it’ll help pay for your cast once the boys find out you’re not paying them.” the pony did seem to pale at that, and the Falcon found himself smirking as the stuffed shirt scurried from the room. There was a pause before he heard the “thanks” of his boys as the pony paid them, and with another chuckle he too a few puffs of his cigar and leaned back.
He always loved it when a good deal came through.