//------------------------------// // Thicker than Water // Story: Wild Card: Two of A Kind // by Barrel-of-fun //------------------------------// His hooves flailed wildly, desperately trying to find the absent ground, as he grasped at the arm that was lifting him up. Her grip was like iron, his clawing was not even acknowledged. Though she lacked the bulging muscles of the minotaurs that he had met, she was strong without a doubt. Beneath the thick fur he could feel honed muscles and sinews like steel cables, all dedicated towards the task of slowly crushing his throat. “Wait,” He choked out, “Why?” Her eyebrows lifted at this and a frown stretched her face. Ace found himself being lowered to the floor as her grip slackened slightly, allowing him to draw in air. Her paw remained around his neck, a constant reminder that she could snap it like a twig if she so wished. “Name?” “Hm? Oh! Ace.” He glanced down at the arm still holding him, “I’d say a pleasure to meet you but…you know.” To his surprise she smiled, “Funny. Shame I have to kill you.” He coughed, “Yeah, about that. Why exactly do you want to kill me?” Her frown returned, quickly becoming her most used expression around him. “You do not know me?” He shook his head in response, “Ah, this must be confusing then. You deserve an explanation before I rip your throat out.” Suddenly, she whirled around, slamming Ace into the bar counter as her free paw shot out, claws extended, stopping inches from the eyes of Gale, who had been attempting to sneak up on the dog, “Not so fast, little pony.” With a flick of the wrist she dumped Ace into the chair next to her, the satyr rubbing at his throat once it was free of her grasp, before indicating Gale to join them on the bar stools. Hesitantly, the pegasus obeyed, taking the seat next to Ace and as far away from the dog as she could get. “First off, names. You are Ace and this little pteechka is?” “Gale.” “Nice to meet you Gale. I am Melissa.” She stared at Ace, eyes boring into the satyr, “Melissa Sharptooth.” “Erm…” Ace looked down, awkwardly trying to avoid the dog’s eyes. She froze and pulled back, frowning again, “You honestly don’t know me?” “Well not as such…” “You killed my brother? Redcliff Sharptooth? Ring any bells now?” “Redcliff, Redcliff…” His eyes shot wide, “Oh! You don’t mean Redtooth?” She snorted, “Is that what the little cyka ended up calling himself? Always did have a big ego for a little pup. Thought he had to have the biggest, meanest name around. And look where it got him, killed by a scrawny minotaur.” “Hey, I take off-“ “And now, I have to kill you.” She shook her head, dreadlocks swaying back and forth as she did so, “Nothing personal you understand. I mean, I hated the runt and always suspected he would end up in an early grave. But, pains me to say it, he was still family.” With three raised claws, she beckoned the bartender over and drinks for each of them were quickly placed down, the pub pony evidently as terrified of the dog as Ace was. “Here. Drink.” She slid two of the glasses over, gently grabbing hers in a paw and drinking it down in one gulp. “Ah, that’s good stuff.” Following her example, Ace threw his drink back with ease. A lifetime of arranging deals, heists and various criminal enterprises in pubs had left him with a liver of steel and a tolerance limit that constantly surprised those who would challenge him to drinking contests. Drinking men three times your size under the table was always a good way to earn some easy money. Gale, on the other hand, had no experience with strong spirits, having restricted herself to beers and the occasional cocktail. Thus, when she took a swig, it left her spitting and coughing all over the bar. “How would you like to die?” Melissa asked, completely ruining the good mood that he had gained from his drink. Ace cocked his head, pretending to think about it for a moment, “Of old age, in my bed with a belly full of wine I believe is the traditional answer but I don’t think I’d make a very good old man. I’d probably be one of those embarrassing oldies desperately trying to hold onto their youth.” “Don’t think you need to worry about old age.” Melissa said with a chuckle, some morbid sense of humour prompting Ace to join her, “Seriously though. I could snap your neck if you want to go that way. It’s quick, clean and, with some professional help, you can still make a pretty corpse.” “I always did want to leave a pretty corpse. Something women would weep over.” He thought for a moment, “How about ripping out my heart and eating it? I saw that in a movie once and it looked like a pretty awesome way to go.” Melissa spat onto the floor, “Too messy, and a good heart needs some spices and time on a grill. Raw heart is just gross.” They both laughed, Gale staring at the two like they were insane. “You’re not going to kill me though.” The satyr said, getting a raised eyebrow in return, “If you were you would have done it and moved on, not bought me a drink and explained yourself. Forgive me but you don’t seem like the type to go through so much trouble for a dead man.” “Perhaps I’m just polite?” “Nah, I saw you fight earlier. Brutal, beautiful and more than a little pants-shitting terrifying. But above all, efficient. No wasted movements. This,” He waved a hand at their empty glasses, “Screams wasted movement to me. I’m guessing you want to know what really happened down in that mine.” Melissa was silent for a moment, staring at the dregs of her drink that had managed to escape. Eventually though she nodded and growled, “The dogs from that mine that I’ve found were annoyingly vague. They mentioned you in great detail and two others, a minotaur and a unicorn. But they failed to mention why you were there or why you only killed Redcliff.” “So they failed to tell you about the slavery?” Her glass shattered in her paw, “The what?” “Slavery. They were taking ponies, and other folk, and forcing them to work in the mines and fight for their amusement.” The wood of the bar began to splinter as Melissa squeezed it, her dark eyes staring into the distance, “Those bastards. Mama was very clear. No slavery. We do our own work and we do it well. Taking slaves attracts unwanted attention and never works out. Look at ponies,” She glanced over to Gale who promptly froze from playing with her drink like a rabbit in headlights, “No muscles, no spirit, and no claws. Hooves can’t hold a tool or rip out rocks. Terrible workers.” “Hey, I take off-“ “Not to mention the whining. All the time it is ‘wah wah wah’ with ponies.” She shook her head sadly, “Living in pony lands has taught me that Mama was right. Ponies are weak and soft, not at all suited for mine work.” Before Gale could protest one more, Ace interrupted, “Excuse me but ‘Mama’?” “Clan matriarch,” She said with a wave of her paw, “Also, actual mother.” “Oh, that must make you a fairly important person right?” “No so much,” She grumbled, “Having twenty siblings puts me fairly low on the totem pole. Although, at least I wasn’t as low as Redcliff. Speaking of which, you still haven’t explained why, out of all the dogs in the mine, you only killed the runt that ran away from his own clan to join some slavers.” “As I understand it, well, they weren’t exactly slavers until your brother took charge.” She stared at him incredulously for a few moments, “Okay, now I know you’re lying to me.” “For once I’m actually telling the truth.” “How in Tartarus could the clan runt take over an entire mine? I’ve been hunting down the dogs that survived. They’re not exactly pushovers.” Ace frowned and looked down at his glass, “This part is actually far harder to explain and probably best done in private. Do you have somewhere quiet we could go?” She mulled it over for a moment before getting up from her stool and reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle. “I’m taking this upstairs.” She told the terrified bartender before indicating that Ace and Gale should follow her with a jerk of her head. “This way. I’ve got a room here.” She led the two to a door hidden away in one corner of the room and up some stairs. Melissa’s room was not much different from the main bar area, except for being much smaller and less populated. A pile of empty bottles had accumulated in one corner, the leftover beer inside slowly turning into a developing yeast micro-society. The bed, despite being made of clouds, somehow managed to look hard and unwelcoming. “So then, what’s this big secret?” The dog asked, throwing herself onto the bed and biting the top off her bottle, idly crunching the glass between her teeth. Ace ignored her for the moment, instead walking over to the window and glancing outside, making sure no nosy pegasi were flying nearby. He then drew the pieces of torn cloth that served as curtains closed, turning back to face the two females. Reaching into his jacket, he retrieved one of the most expensive pieces of equipment he had on him. A small pouch, seemingly made of plain purple cloth that was nothing exceptional to look at. If there had been any magical detectors in the room though, they would have been going haywire. It had cost him a lot of bits to get this made, the unicorn enchanter demanding almost his entire take from the last warehouse he hit. But it was definitely worth it. Enough enchantments had been worked into the stitching to give Celestia herself reason to raise an eyebrow. Locking enchantments, alarm enchantments, notice-me-not enchantments. The whole works had gone into this thing. Raising it to his mouth, the satyr mumbled some words under his breath, making absolutely sure the others didn’t hear them. After the codes had been said, all it took was a slight pull of the string to open it, revealing its insidious contents. Drawing it out, Ace held the small vial up to the light, “This,” He announced, “Is the Black Brew.” Gale and Melissa stared at it in curiosity. The liquid seemed to absorb the light around it as it sloshed about in its container. It took the two a second to realise that Ace wasn’t actually moving the vial at all. The liquid inside was moving of its own free will, thrashing about at the reinforced glass in a desperate attempt to escape. “As you can see, it’s a lively little bugger.” The satyr continued, “It’s also one of the most dangerous and powerful substances I’ve ever come across. Which is really saying something. It’s not just addictive, it’s downright controlling. Manipulative.” He lowered it, giving the black substance a glare, “Alive.” “Question.” Melissa said, raising a paw, “What does it do?” “Excellent inquiry class.” Ace replied, beginning to pace in front of them like a lecturer at a university, “When consumed by the victim, it enhances their natural abilities beyond the realms of possibility. Drink enough of the stuff and you could probably go toe to toe with an alicorn and stand a decent chance of not being incinerated in two seconds. Strong stuff indeed.” “You’re saying this is what this Redcliff guy used?” Gale finally spoke up, tearing her eyes away from the vial. “Yup. By the time I met him he was huge, as big as a minotaur and not very friendly at all.” Seeing the look in Melissa’s eyes he swiftly continued. “Of course it comes with some pretty lethal downsides. In Redcliff’s case, it blew his head off, took over his re-animated body and proceeded to use him as a betentacled puppet.” He saw all thought of taking the Brew disappear from Melissa’s eyes when she heard her brother’s fate. “Other symptoms can include madness, loss of bladder control, spontaneous combustion, blindness, demonic possession and, of course, more madness.” Ace wasn’t even entirely sure why he had kept the sample of the Brew around with him. A reminder of what he was fighting perhaps? He certainly didn’t intend to study the stuff. He was no scientist. There was only one pony in Equestria that he trusted to have both the brains and the moral fortitude to study the Brew, and he wasn’t about to get Twilight Sparkle mixed up in this insanity. “So this is what killed my brother?” Ace nodded gravely. “And you are fighting this?” He nodded again, “This, and those who would use it for their own gain.” She stood up to her full height, towering almost a full head taller than the satyr. Her face was impassive, her stance ramrod straight. The eyes that stared down at Ace were hard, giving away nothing. Eventually she stuck a paw out at him, the thief barely managing to restrain his urge to flinch back. “Then I'm coming with you.”