“Come on, big colt, lemme see what you got,” challenged Slick, an arrogant look gracing his greasy face. He and the rest of Shades' group were now fanned out and fully facing Nocturne's new crew. From the looks of it, there was bound to be a brawl, here and now.
Nocturne flexed his left front leg and cracked the joints before stepping off the stage. He turned his head toward his own group of four and gestured for them to follow. Each stallion did so, climbing down off of the stage at Nocturne's sides, just as fanned out as Shades' guys. The numbers were about even, but Nocturne knew this wasn't about numbers alone. At that moment, it was about who made the first move.
Or who had the best moves.
“You mean that's all?” Slick taunted, his cocky grin widening, “Please! That ain't nothin, scrub! Show me what you got! All you got!”
Nocturne matched Slick's cocky sneer, cracked his other leg, and brushed the tip of his hoof against his chin in rude dismissal. All that huffing and puffing, and Slick seemed to forget that the guy who'd sicced him onto Nocturne in the first place was now hiding behind the group, a broken mug on his hoof, far away from the action. So, I'm the scrub, Nocturne thought snidely, Sure . . . sure . . .
Nocturne and his surprise reinforcements stared back at Shades' crew, biding their time; the entire lobby was quiet as everypony that remained stared on. Even Spike, who up until then had been carefree in his job as a distraction, stood in awe of these unusual events. It reached a point where the tension was thick enough to border on suffocating. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a Unicorn in a far corner struck a match with his magic, and that seemed to be the signal.
Nocturne and his posse all jumped and stomped simultaneously, striking a pose and standing stock-still. Nocturne's right front hoof pressed to his suit jacket front, and his four associates mimicked his movements in perfect sync. All five stallions slid their hooves down one side of their suit jackets and brushed them aside, pinning them to their backs. The quintet went still once again after that, but it seemed to work as a gesture of warning; none of Shades' group made a move to start a fight. Little by little, activity began to bustle in the hotel lobby once again, but not the typical movement or sound of a running hotel—the very environment seemed to react to the tension of the scene. A faucet behind the bar began dripping loudly. A horseshoe-shiner went back to work, scrubbing to the tune of the song that had just ended on the jukebox. The janitor mule pushed his broom across the floor, joining the beat. The clacking of a mare's expensive horseshoes accompanied these sounds in rhythm, and the rest seemed to assemble by itself. A stallion at the bar clip-clopping his hooves against the ground; a lighter being tapped against a table; a hoof gently tapping the side of a full glass—the cacophony almost completely replaced the jukebox tune from earlier. At a table, an eager colt stomped his hoof against the ground, and a Unicorn mare unfolded her fan—almost signaling the end of the quiet.
All five stallions began dancing in perfect synchronicity: a bend of the legs, five front legs pointed up and out, one swing, two swings, and a third brought each hoof back to the floor with a bang. A subtle, collective nod, a jump, a turn, a twist of the hats, and another collective stomp led to a smooth, eerie bobbing of the head.
“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Nocturne signaled for all five of them to jump up on two legs for a group pose. Understandably, everypony watching was befuddled.
Nocturne and his stallions dropped back on four hooves, and Nocturne himself took a deep sigh. Summoning random ponies out of thin air and intimidating a group of gangsters with a group dance number was surprisingly exhausting.
Slick shook off the confusion first, “You mean that's it? A fruity little dance! You ain't nothin', man! Show me all you got!” He had had Shades' crew back up between the tables by now, so his threats and provocations were quickly becoming emptier. Nocturne signaled for his four backups to follow, and the five advanced, ready to prove it.
Nocturne stopped when a smaller table blocked his way, and he growled as he upended it, pushing it into a wall and sending a pile of playing cards and more glasses of booze tumbling to the floor. This was a signal to Shades' crew; a Unicorn stallion on their side stepped up, aiming a switchblade at Nocturne with his magic and puffing on a cigarette. “Better freeze, punk,” he ordered in a throaty growl.
Nocturne scowled at him, whacked the switchblade out of the air, and brought the same hoof down on the stallion's mouth, swiping the smoke out of his lips. “That's bad for you, you know,” the bat-winged pony quipped before putting his front leg under the Unicorn's belly, lifting him up, and flipping the unprepared stallion onto his back. Nocturne stepped over him without so much as a glance.
Another group jump, and Nocturne and his posse were back in sync and moving again (Nocturne marveled at how easy it was to start one of these group numbers; this never happened in real life!). The fivesome brushed off their left shoulders with the opposite hoof and snapped their hooves against the floor; they even trotted in perfect time with each other, until Nocturne broke from the group by pushing his hat forward. It led to a jump back onto two legs, a singular spin, a lock of the legs, and another call to his guys to follow his lead, “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”
As Nocturne and his backup dancers continued bobbing and weaving without music, Slick finally lost his temper. “You stupid, sorry piece of rat guts!” he bellowed, “Stop prancing around like a loon and give me your best shot!”
Nocturne didn't seem to listen; he brushed back his suit jacket, swept the air with a hoof, dragged it back, adjusted his hat, gave a slow turn, and—
BAM!!
One hoof-punch, and Slick was sent reeling, crashing into another table.
Finally, Shades and his boys jumped in to attack, and Nocturne and his group fought back. The Unicorn sent beams of light into his foes' faces, the Earth ponies kicked and bucked their enemies, and the Pegasus flew circles around two ponies, making them dizzy and dropping them like a sack of bricks.
Nocturne threw another hoof-punch before realizing how the scene was playing out. This was not looking fun anymore; he had just started a fight in a gangster bar. “Spike!” he yelled out, hoping his little scaly friend was unharmed.
Spike ran in from the karaoke stage and jumped up on top of the bar to see over the chaos, “Nocturne! You all right?!” He then grunted as an Earth Pony came flying out of the melee and landed on the bar—and Spike. The dragon groaned in pain and belched out a flame that caught against the wall behind the bar, and thanks to Nocturne having doused the wall and bar with the remnants of other ponies' drinks, the alcohol spread the fire quickly.
Nocturne popped up over the heads of the pony brawlers and replied, “Run, Spike! Get the car! I'll join you when I can!”
“Wait, you're staying?! This place is about to burn up! We gotta beat it, now!”
“I'll be right behind you!” Nocturne yelled back, slamming his back hooves into another mobster, “Just get out of here!”
“Wait, you're not going to find that mare we followed, are you?”
“SPIKE, JUST GO!!”
The little dragon nodded his reluctant assent; the fire was creeping up to him across the bar. As he turned, another Earth pony came at him, but this time willingly, he aimed a hoof at Spike and made to knock him off the bar. Spike ducked and swiped at the pony with his claws before jumping and running. He didn't realize how quick and how lucky he'd been; all he'd done to the Earth pony was take off a layer of fur.
The pink-maned Pegasus had reached the front door just as the fire started. She had pushed it open and was almost out when she was pulled back by her tail and thrust into the adjacent wall. Standing over her, the broken mug still hanging on his hoof, was Shades.
“You're not goin' anywhere, you little traitor!” Shades bellowed, “Big D's gonna break you for this!”
“Please, no!” she begged, shaking all over, “The building's on fire! We have to get out!”
Shades slammed his hoof down on her tail to keep her from escaping, “You're gonna explain this mess to the boss, whether you make it out alive or not!”
“Please . . .” she squealed, cowering and misty-eyed, “Please . . . let me go . . .”
Shades' answer was interrupted; the fight had spread to the front door, and two ponies that had been duking it out had bumped into Shades. Shades' hoof was moved, and the mare was able to get up, but the brawlers were now in front of the door.
Shades roared in fury and lifted his broken mug, about to attack the two stallions fighting, and the mare seized her chance; she jumped up on two legs, brought her hooves down on Shades' hoof, and slammed it, and the broken mug, directly on top of his head, dazing him.
The battling stallions rolled out of the way, and the mare ran out the door, but not before turning toward Shades to make sure he was all right. Already, one of his cronies was dragging him to one of the emergency exits. Before leaving, she turned and genuinely assured, “Oh, I'm ever so sorry! I hope it didn't hurt too badly!”