April 9, 2027
Baltimare
Friday
Quantum didn’t feel dead. Then again, having no frame of reference for what ‘feeling dead’ actually feels like, she couldn’t be sure. Pure, empty blackness persisted just long enough for her to start feeling claustrophobic. Then, the minty mare felt a jarring shove and heard the clear, close voice of a stallion.
“Draw!” The voice called. “Hey, Draw? What’s up, buddy? Too much turnip rum?”
A chorus of guffawing cackles clattered ignominiously around in Quantum’s head. Her thoughts a jumbled swirl and her chin still in contact with something hard, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes under her glasses. “Fffwheh?” She breathed groggily, “…am I dead for real this time?”
The cacophony of chortles rose up again in response to her comment, and Quantum felt a hoof smack her in the withers so hard she nearly fell off…whatever she was sitting on.
“Only if you were drawing dead last round!” The voice laughed. “And by the way, Tilt just called you. Are you gonna smack that smile off his muzzle or what?”
“Wh-what…?” Quantum shook the momentary delirium out of her head and squinted at the blurry images all around her. The moment her hazy mind began to clear, a torrent of stinging, sopping wet memories came rushing in; the image of a mile-high wall of water, barreling in at lightspeed to claim her. She cried out, leaned back…and promptly fell off the back of a swiveling chair upholstered in green leather, crashing onto a red shag carpeted floor in a heap. The faces of four unfamiliar unicorn stallions appeared above her. They were all feigning concern under quivering lips and merrily flaring nostrils. A red-coated one with a spiky yellow mane offered her a hoof up. He then promptly levitated a heavy looking tumbler glass off of a table and let it smack down again, slapping his knee and laughing as he did so.
“Dang, Swizzle, what was in that? You put poor Draw here right on his rump!”
The stallions laughed again. Quantum, wincing against the usual nausea consistent with a vault, waved off a few offers of help and righted the chair on her own. The stallions returned to their seats, which were all at the opposite ends of a round table with a thin layer of green felt trim over it. Quantum sat on the seat that was apparently hers and used the moment of distracted conversation between the stallions to take in her surroundings.
The first thing she noticed was a visible haze filtering in and out of practically everything. It invaded her lungs like smoke from a burning building, but she suppressed a cough, since nopony else appeared bothered by it. The smoke gave the entire room a heavy, masking sweet odor, tinged at the fringes with a stale sourness. The room itself was rather large and poorly lit, with a number of other tables similar to the one Quantum found herself seated at. There was a long, solid bar behind her, smooth with lacquer and equipped with enough of the amenities for the minty mare to get the idea that she was in some kind of drinking establishment. Hanging behind the bar, beyond a few scraggly looking ponies and at least two griffons, was a mirror. Quantum tried to peer at herself in it without making a show, but her attention was called away by another gruff stallion voice.
“Hey. I called you. Are you gonna show or not?”
Quantum turned her attention back to the table. To her right was another glass tumbler, half-filled with an amber liquid she didn’t have to taste to assume was alcohol. To her left was an ashtray, where a portly lit cigar appeared to be waiting for her. In front of her was a hand of playing cards, lying face down on the table. All of the stallions had similar setups. In the center of the table was a large mound of bits – easily more money than Quantum had ever seen in one place at one time before. She blinked twice at the considerable funds, wondering what she and her mother could have done with all that years ago.
The unicorn stallions were staring. Quantum levitated the cards and peered at them. Nopony reacted, and Quantum sighed with relief inwardly – apparently she was back to being a unicorn. She examined the cards:
Alicorn of diamonds. Kingfisher of diamonds. Princess of diamonds.
Quantum grinned.
Nag of diamonds. Nine of diamonds.
The minty mare’s smug smile split her muzzle so broadly that the unicorns took notice. This would be…easy. No problem. She’d played poker with her mother. At least half a dozen times.
“Oh brother,” the red pony chuckled, “He’s got that look on his muzzle again. I’m so glad I folded.” With that, he made a show out of pointing at the cream-colored unicorn who had apparently ‘called’. “Tilt, you watch Draw. He’ll bleed you dry.”
The creamy mare with the mauve mane, apparently named ‘Tilt’, grimaced nervously, peering over the top of his cards. “He’s bluffing. I just know it.” Tilt fixed Quantum with a stare. “And this time I’m gonna pin the tail on you, Draw. Call. Show your cards.”
The other unicorns let their hands drop, face down, and pushed them away as one, turning to their smokes or their drinks and watching intently. Quantum pulled her own cards up until they were touching her muzzle and smiled from behind them.
“Go fish.”
Tilt raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Quantum erked, “I mean, uh…hit me.”
“I’ll hit you all you want, just as soon as you show me your cards,” Tilt threatened.
Quantum heard a faint whooshing noise come from behind her. Nopony else appeared to take notice, but an instant later she heard Hal’s familiar voice.
“Hey, you’re not dead!” The toasty orange pegasus shouted gleefully. “I knew it! Tissy owes me lunch! A-and…hey, what are you doing?”
“Ix-nay,” Quantum murmured, holding her cards over her mouth.
“What? Don’t mumble.”
“Ix-nay!” Quantum repeated. A fat, aging purple unicorn off to her right snorted and gave her a look. “Pig Latin ain’t gonna save you, Draw. Come on, show your cards. I’m dyin’ t’see this thing go down.”
Hal, dressed in a checkered red and green turtleneck with gold trim, made an ‘ohh-ing’ sound. “Right, sorry.” He flitted around the table, casually inspecting everything and passing right through anything he encountered. “What’cha playing? Poker? Got a good hand?”
Quantum nodded, so slightly that it would be easy to miss. Hal peered over Tilt’s shoulder and smiled. “This guy called you? He’s bluffing. All he has is a small pair of fours. Nail his mane to the wall.”
That was all Quantum needed to hear. She let her cards slip down a bit, so the stallions could see her smile, and then reveled in their chuckling responses. Tilt was visibly sweating. Hal, laughing mirthfully, sailed back over the table and came to rest behind his classmate.
When Hal peered at Quantum’s cards, his smile vanished.
“Y-you don’t have a ten!” He screeched, “Cutie, that’s not a royal flush! It’s just junk! Fold! Whoever’s body you’re in right now, spare the poor pony’s dignity!”
But it was too late. With a light chinking noise that could be heard throughout the drab establishment, Quantum’s hand fell face up on the pile of bits. The minty mare cackled and reached towards the impressive pile of money, before a cream-colored hoof came slamming down on her foreleg. Quantum winced, suppressing the urge to cry out, and looked up into the baleful eyes of the stallion named Tilt. His horn was glowing. Next to his head was a small switchblade, levitating patiently.
“What in Equestria d’you think you’re trying to pull?” Tilt rumbled. “You think nopony would even bother to look at your cards? That the high and mighty gambler, Draw Out, is just so good that we’d all take your word for it?”
Quantum swallowed, her eyes affixed to the floating weapon. “U—uhh…no?”
Tilt sneered and glanced down at Quantum’s pinned hoof, which was covering the nine of diamonds. “Show me that card,” he demanded.
Quantum could hear a torrent of beeping and booping sounds from somewhere behind her. She glanced around the table. All the stallions were watching her, waiting for her to take action. Hal spoke hastily.
“This guy…Tissy says his name is Tilt. He’s in his late twenties and he was turned out from an orphanage at the age of twelve for being too violent. Has a rap sheet longer than Princess Celestia’s mane, but so far the only charges that have stuck are minor offenses and he’s either gotten off or served short time.” Hal gulped in a breath, “…he’s got a cadre of young, impressionable thugs in his employ. A jerk, but apparently a charismatic jerk. Oh, and in case you wanted to know, Tissy says that if you provoke him, there’s a very high probability that he’ll stab you to death, so…uh…don’t.”
Quantum thought for a second, and in the end she decided not to deck the well-muscled Tilt, nor attempt to strangle the holographic pegasus with the tendency for untimely information dispersal. She cleared her throat and adopted the best wisepony voice she could craft from noir movies, sliding her hoof away from the card and grinning.
“Aw c’mon Tilt,” she cooed, “You think I would cheat yas? Fuhgetaboutit! I wuz just playin’ see?” Tilt’s confused grip relaxed, and Quantum immediately slid away from him, sitting back up on her chair. “Ya, ya, you got me. Take it. Just keepin’ ya on your hooves, right?” With that, the minty mare forced out a laugh and glanced between the other alarmed unicorn stallions, who looked nervously at one another and eventually joined in. The red pony put his hoof on Tilt’s shoulder and grinned broadly at him.
“Yeah Tilt, what Draw said. Relax buddy.” He nodded at the knife, “Ain’t no need for that in a friendly game.”
Tilt growled and glanced around at the laughing ponies, Blushing slightly, he levitated the knife out of sight and got up from his seat, smugly grinning. Quantum caught sight of a cutie mark in the shape of a single playing card laying on its face. “Yeah, whatever. I pinned your tail Draw, and you know it. And I’ll be coming for ya next time, too. You wait.” He levitated his drink, took a long swig, and dropped the glass on the floor, allowing it to shatter. Reeling a moment from the hot booze sliding down his throat, he bellowed a command, “Swizzle! Bag my bits! I’m going to the can!”
A dirty rag grazed Quantum’s ear on the way to Tilt, smacking the latter lightly in the flank. Quantum turned to see a middle-aged, midnight blue earth mare with a violet mane, too much makeup, and a snide curl to her lip standing behind the bar. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until you clean up your mess, you pathetic turnip lush!” The mare announced boldly.
Quantum tensed, expecting to see the slightly unhinged stallion raise his weapon again. Instead, he eyed the discarded rag apathetically and harrumphed. “Tch, fine.” He clopped two hooves together and looked around the room. “Twiggy! Hey! Come clean this crap up!”
Hal wandered into Quantum’s line of sight, as the unicorn ponies and other customers went about their own business. He was examining his screen and didn’t look up. “Swizzle. Fifty-three years old. Runs a seedy establishment called ‘The Hungry Ursa’. One estranged daughter…powerful personality…has enough respect among the clientele here that they typically listen to her.” He pointed around the table, indicating the red stallion with the spiky yellow mane first.
“Hole Card. Probably one of the only ponies here who actually makes an honest living. Thirty years old…no family….gambles in his spare time. Has an upbeat attitude that his friends sometimes find annoying.” Next, Hal pointed at a skinny, buck-toothed specimen with a slack look in his eyes, that seemed interested in laughing at absolutely everything.
“Slow Play. Not sure of his age, but Tissy says he’s known for being about as sharp as the face of a placing card. Not much background…common thug, easily manipulated…seems the others just invite him to the game when they want to make a few extra bits.”
Finally, Hal pointed at the overweight, aging purple fellow that was sitting to Quantum’s right. “Short Stack. Name matches his stature I guess. Sixty-four years old. Aged but still sharp and well-connected. Comes off as friendly enough, but Tissy says you’re better just leaving him alone. And that brings us to you.” Hal examined his device and cleared his throat lightly, falling silent.
Quantum, unable to speak to the hologram in public for fear of having to plead insanity again, tried to bore a hole through him with her stare instead. Finally, Hal continued.
“Draw Out. Stallion. Thirty-two years old.” Hal chuckled and clucked his tongue, “Oh geez…and you thought being a hayseed was tricky! This guy is unemployed and apparently gets by on his smart-aleck grin and his poker winnings. Practically lives at this club…bar…whatever you want to call it. Parents are dead, no siblings…and apparently his three favorite things in the world are cards, rum, and mares. Not necessarily in that order.” Slipping his device back into his pocket protector, Hal grinned, “Congratulations. You’re a pig. Nice cutie mark, by the way.”
Quantum glanced at her flank…her eyes falling on her usual minty blue-green coat, and her own two-tone, blue flame cutie mark. She sighed inwardly and sauntered close enough to the bar to get a squinting look at herself, which was no small feat considering all the haze in the air. Staring back at her was a unicorn stallion with a broad muzzle, a nice chin, and a dashing, curly white mane over a coat that shared its shade with that of golden money. On his flank was an image of…more money, and the exact hand of playing cards that Quantum thought she had moments ago.
Wiping a rag down the bar as she went, the earth pony named Swizzle suddenly broke into Quantum’s field of view.
“Hey sugah,” she grinned, “What’s with the long face? Not enough rum in ya yet? Or maybe you’d like some more?” The mare giggled, the sound reminding Quantum of appleseeds rattling around in a tin can. Quantum kept glancing at her reflection over the mare’s shoulder, flailing her nostrils and trying to make sense of her broader face. When she noticed the proprietor was actually speaking to her, she nearly jumped.
“What? O-oh uh…” this time, Quantum lowered the pitch of her voice on purpose. “N-nah, swee—uh---sugar…bab-y?”
The mare only cackled dryly, “Dearie, nopony’s called me that since aught one, but if you’re crusin’ for a free drink this time you can forget it.” With that, Swizzle pulled a fresh mug from under the bar, retrieved a pot of something hot, and filled the mug liberally, sighing. “But then, I never could say no to the cute ones.” She pushed the mug to Quantum. “Black. Finish it or you’re never getting another hoof of liquor from this bar, paid tab or no paid tab.”
The smell of not-so-freshly ground coffee beans wafted across Quantum’s nostrils. She levitated the cup and almost took a sip from it, but a flicker of movement from the corner of the mirror stopped her. She squinted at the odd blue form that had been there for a second, but it was gone just as fast as it had been present. Something seemed familiar about it.
Quantum turned around. She couldn’t see the floor past the card table, but the glow from behind it suggested somepony was manipulating the dish rag Swizzle had thrown at Tilt. A new mare was standing over the spill. Her horn was lit, and she was chatting with the stallions amicably enough. The mare was wearing fishnets on her rear legs, heels, and had a rather trashy looking skirt with black and red lace wrapped around her torso.
Quantum’s jaw dropped.
“M-mom!?”
In the turning of a second, the minty mare abandoned her coffee and shot across the room, inserting herself between Trixie and the unicorn stallions. She nabbed the older mare’s hoof in her own. Hal smacked his forehead.
“Mom!” Quantum shouted. “Wh-what are you doing here!? Wh-wh—” she sputtered, indicating the outfit, “why are you dressed so horribly!?”
Scowling, Trixie tore her hoof away from her daughter, levitated the alcohol-soaked dishrag, and flung it into Quantum’s face. The stallions burst out laughing, and so raucous was their noise that even the griffons and other patrons joined in.
“Ex-cuse-me!” Trixie sang, “But The Great and Powerful Twiggy is not to be handled by the likes of you, you dirty little rum-soaked cricket! Or are you so drunk you think I’m your mother?”
Slow Play guffawed from his seat, a guttural voice belching forth from his pencilneck, “You hear that, Twigs? Draw just called you old! And he says ya got no sense of style! What’cha gonna do?”
Quantum gacked, whipping the dishrag out of her face with a sharp shake of her head. “What? No! I didn’t mean—”
Quantum felt an unexpectedly soft kick. She looked down to find her mother’s foreleg in between her own. She blinked. Behind Trixie, Hal rolled his eyes and made falling motions with his hooves, mouthing the words ‘stallion’ and ‘idiot’ over and over.
Forcing herself to cough, Quantum pulled all her legs together, closed her eyes, winced…and let herself tip over until the carpet came up to meet her cheek. The stinging blow to her side was accented by the remainder of the spilled drink, which soaked into her coat, smelling of stale turnips.
“And let that teach you a lesson,” Trixie barked smugly.
“That’s right!” Tilt’s voice rang out. Quantum looked up just long enough to see the creamy, creepy stallion wrap his forelegs around her mother’s upper body, nuzzling her cheek. “Dunno what’s got into you Draw, but Twiggy’s mine. Everypony knows that. Go get one of your own conquests if yer feelin’ lucky!”
Quantum stumbled on the floor, slipping in the spilled drink. Shocked, she watched her mother clop away, leg-in-leg with a two-bit, no good thug. The minty mare scrambled to her hooves and was about to give chase, but Hal stood in her way.
“She doesn’t know who you are, Cutie. You’re just going to start a fight.” Hal poked at his device once, “Draw rents a room upstairs. Fourth floor, last door on the right. Go there and wait for me. I’ll come back later when Tissy has some new info.”
Quantum gritted her teeth and pumped several breaths through her nose, grimacing at her friend. The red unicorn named Hole Card suddenly patted her withers.
“Draw, seriously, you alright? You seem a little off alla sudden.”
“I-I’m fine. Too much rum I guess,” Quantum lied, turning away from Hal, Trixie, and Tilt. “I think I need to go lay down.”
Hole Card’s bone china eyes seemed full of genuine concern. “Sure. Come down for dinner later – we’re gonna get another game going. ‘Corns only, right?” he grinned and lowered his voice to a whisper, “But seriously, you can take Tilt’s money in a fair game and he’ll stay in line just because Short Stack’s there, but don’t mess with Twiggy. He’s liable to get violent if you go after his mare. Besides, you got enough of them anyway, dont’cha?”
Quantum nodded haltingly, traded a few contrived pleasantries with the patrons, and made her way to the stairs. The image of her mother dressed in fishnets and calling herself ‘Twiggy’ was burned on the back of her retinas.