//------------------------------//
// Chapter 8 - Omerta 
// Story: Tales From Day Court 
// by Blade Star 
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    Sitting in my high backed chair, I stared down at my desk. I contemplated getting out the bottle of scotch I kept on the bottom left hand drawer for special occasions. I didn’t want to risk it though. I needed to be sharp for my next meeting; and it wasn’t going to be with your usual petitioner. 

As I said before, I had two avenues to explore in regard to finding Equestria’s second most wanted fugitive. The first had been enlisting Sombra to help. The second had been something more direct. I had spoken to Octavia at the Grand Galloping Gala, and had her pass word to her employer that I needed to speak to him. 

Equestria has quite a low crime rate, and there are many reasons for this. Aside from the more peaceful nature of ponies, and the efficiency of law enforcement, there was another factor to consider. In certain cities such as Manehatten and Chicoltgo, there existed another body that kept low level crime down; a body that I like to refer to as ‘Cosa Nostra’, though that isn’t what the ponies involved call it. But yes, Equestria has organised crime, although it has stayed much closer to its old routes than its human counterpart. 

The organisation deals mostly in protection rackets, picking up the slack from the local lawmen, as well as contract work. Ponies don’t really have that much in the way of controlled substances, so smuggling wasn’t really a thing. Their big money was in the unions though, particularly where there was any big construction work. They also tended to prosper in places like Las Pegasus, where they owned, or rather controlled, a few of the casinos and hotels. 

Anyway, as a result, small time crime was exceptionally low, given that any time somepony messed around with these ponies, they tended to go for a walk in the Manehatten Harbour, wearing concrete horseshoes. It was rather advantageous to me as well. After all, these criminals were much more open to partnership, in a manner of speaking. They kept crime low in the rougher areas in exchange for the Royal Guard and other groups not interfering too heavily. It was a case of better the devil you know, and it was in everypony’s interest to not create too much of a mess. As a result, there was something of a détente.

Similar things had happened on Earth. During the war, the Americans had employed Mafioso types to protect shipyards in New York from sabotage. This was no different; as long as Cosa Nostra didn’t do anything too drastic, such as measuring somepony up for a wooden suit, we allowed their activities to continue. In turn, they helped us when asked.

With their experience then, they were well suited to tracking down a wily fugitive. The Royal Guard and other law enforcement agencies simply didn’t have the resources to run a nationwide manhunt. On the other hand, these ponies could supply us with well-trained operatives who could. Bounty hunters, if you will. There was a price on Starlight’s head after all; if I remember correctly, somewhere in the region of fifty thousand bits upon her delivery, alive, to the Royal Guard.  

Mind you, this was not a regular occurrence. Celestia was certainly not in cahoots with these ponies, nor was I. Someday I would hopefully see the lot of them in the dock and sent down the river. As useful as they were, they were still a criminal organisation and I never fully trusted them. But at present, they could be of use to me.

I was expecting a visit from Marelone today. He was one of their higher ups, akin to an officer, but a far cry from the boss; a ‘capo’ to his native Sifillyan tongue. He lived and worked in Manehatten and he was the pony Octavia dealt with. In fact, I rather hoped that she would take up this contract. After all, I had called on her services in the past, and she had never let me down yet. I’d made it clear that I wanted the following in terms of manpower, or ponypower: 

Rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Buffalo agents, Mexicolt bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers, and Methodists. 

I fear that that last one may have thrown them a bit. Still, I expected that they’d be able to find somepony willing to do the work. 

Then there came the knock on the door. I was briefly started, but quickly settled myself. The last thing I wanted was to come across as being on edge. Long experience has taught me that you can’t show any hint of weakness around these guys. 

“Enter!” I called out, staying at my desk. The door opened to reveal Buttercup, with another pony standing behind him.

“There’s a pony here who says he has an appointment with you, sir,” he said, looking ever so slightly worried. I figured that he had recognised who it was that had come to pay call on me. While they were technically villains, a good many of these ponies, particularly old Speakeasy, were quite well respected in their home cities. I asked Buttercup to show him in, and then to head back to the court. 

The stallion that entered was not what you might necessarily expect. He was about my son’s size, though much more wiry in appearance. He was an earth pony, with a chestnut coat and a jet black mane and tail. The suit he wore was clearly expensive, as was undoubtedly the amount of gel that was in his mane. His eyes though were what got your attention the most. While they didn’t hold the same evil that I’d seen in ponies like Sombra, he did have the eyes of a predator, waiting for his chance to strike. He was a wiseguy.

He stared at me across the expanse. I’m quite sure that he would like to have had me done away with some time ago, as would I him. Still, for the moment, there was an uneasy truce between us, just as there was between his people and the Manehatten police. 

“Good day, Mr. Marelone,” I greeted neutrally, nodding slightly. The stallion responded in kind.

“Mr. Owen,” his Sifillyan accent plain to the ear, though with a hint of Hocklyn to it. He proceeded to remove his hat and coat, hanging them up on the nearby coat-rack. Silence hung in the air for a moment as we sized each other up.

“Have a seat, please,” I suggested, motioning to the chair across my desk. He stared me down for a moment before complying. The tension was almost palpable. I smiled as I noticed he had dressed casually. 

“Drink?” I asked. Marelone shook his head.

“Thank you, no.” He eased himself into the chair and relaxed himself for a moment.

Marelone, as I have already said, is well connected to the less reputable side of pony society. And whilst I may despise him, I still understand him and his somewhat vigilante approach to justice. Conversely though, I despise other aspects of his operation, particularly his little extortion racket we found out that was running in Little Bitaly. In this instance though, he had something I wanted. I could deal with this wop another day. 

“I was surprised when our mutual friend brought me your letter,” he said, opening our little dialogue. “It’s not every day the legal advisor to the princess herself comes looking to place an order.” This took me back. How long had it been since I ran an ASU? Marelone spoke carefully, giving no specifics. Everything he said was circumstantial, and open to interpretation. Understandably, he found the whole situation highly suspect. He was right to be suspicious.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I replied. “Would you be able to furnish my request?” 

“I might,” Marelone answered, cagily. “How much are we talking?” I shook my head.

Grabbing a scrap of an old scroll and quill, I quickly jotted down a number for him. After letting the ink dry, I pushed it across the desk to him. I saw his eyes widen at the five figure offer. 

“This is to clip her and bring her in, not push a button, Marelone. I want that understood,” I warned gravely. “Screw this up, and there will be consequences.” Marelone nodded in understanding. 

“Things will be settled up when the job is done. Your superiors will be compensated for their services, as will the associate who does the work. Until then, our agreement does not exist, and is completely off the record.”

“Is that what you want me to tell my superiors and The Commission?” he asked. The Commission was the combined body of Cosa Nostra’s leadership. Whenever problems or conflicts came up, the heads of each territory would meet up to discuss and ideally solve the issue. Think of it as a dark, twisted version of the Royal Summit.

“That’s the job,” I replied, nodding. I then leaned forward. “But impress upon your friends that this is a one-time deal. Any funny business, anything at all, and I will drop the Royal Guard on their heads.” Equestria did have laws against organisations such as Cosa Nostra. But as I said before, it was better to exist in détente. “Contact me when you have an answer and have people lined up. I’d like to brief them myself.”

Marelone leaned back in his chair for a moment, looking at me, searching for a tell. Understandably, he didn’t trust me anymore than I did him. On the other hand, the sum which I was offering was much more than usual, and he undoubtedly wanted the funds. It was certainly more than I had paid Octavia on the rare occasions I used her services. This constituted much more than your average ‘Hector’ type job. A fetch and retrieve job was infinitely more complex than the Neanderthal methodology of removing a few teeth. At length, Marelone reached a decision.

“Alright. I’ll pass the word,” Marelone eventually said. “I’ll wire you when you need to come up to Manehatten.” Ah yes, no phones in Equestria, and few had access to the sort of instant messaging that Spike could provide. Telegraph was the most common way to send messages long distance quickly. 

With that, he got up from his chair, retrieved his hat and coat, and departed the way he had come. I allowed myself to breathe easily again. I despised working with bastards like that. But they had the resources and the remit to do what the Royal Guard couldn’t. I also didn’t like it for the memories such meetings invoked. I’m no Italian, but I’d been in a version of that life many years ago, and it was not something I cared to think about. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I headed to the court to sit in; it would help take my mind off things.  

But just before I left, I reached down under my desk, and clicked off the tape recorder that had been running. 

Nothing personal, Marelone. 

Just business. 





Several days later, Marelone wired me to come up to Manehatten. He’d spoken with his boss, who had in turn spoken with the other members of The Commission. They’d all agreed that this arrangement would be mutually beneficial and had agreed to put some of their best contractors on the case, setting up a meeting in Manehatten’s industrial district. 

I headed up there as soon as I could, begging temporary leave from the princess. Celestia would have to manage without me today. But given that she’s been doing that since before my great-great-great-grandfather was in nappies, I was sure that she’d be fine. All the major cases for the week were done and dusted, or at worst could be put off until I got back. I would only be in Manehatten an afternoon, heading back to Ponyville that evening, and back at work tomorrow.

Leaving the comfortable and familiar surroundings of Canterlot Castle, and after hailing a cab, I headed back down the mountain toward the railway station. Despite being the capital, and the end of one of the main lines, the station isn’t that large. I got on another gaudy looking train and took my seat amongst the other passengers, most of whom were equally bound for Manehatten. 

The train took me back down the mountain towards Ponyville. However, this time I went through my usual stop and followed the line east, towards the coastline. Geographically speaking, Canterlot is pretty much in the dead centre of Equestria, hence its place as the capital. Manehatten was north east from there, sitting right on the coast, a little to the north of Baltimare and Fillydelphia. In fact, as I learned on the train ride there, the city itself was actually its own island; only accessible by crossing the Hocklyn Bridge, or by sailing up the coast. 

The city was much like the version I was familiar with, albeit somewhat anachronistic. I’d say it fitted with the New York of the early 1920’s. It was certainly quieter than the modern day New York, though still quite a shock compared to Canterlot, never mind Ponyville. It was city of towering spires, huge bridges, and bustling ponies. I imagined it looked even more impressive by night. 

Getting off the train, I found myself in Equestria’s version of Grand Central Station. It made Canterlot’s own terminus seem tiny by comparison. There had to be almost a dozen tracks running in from all different directions, some of which connected with Manehatten’s nearby airfield, where dirigibles and even the odd Griffon zeppelin weighed anchor. I’ve never trusted those things myself though, certainly not enough to fly in them. Aside from the R-101, a zeppelin had killed my old home town’s lady mayoress in the war.   

Stepping down into the opulent station, I was instantly stared at by the natives, not an uncommon occurrence really. Despite my odd appearance though, they all treated me to the same Manehatten hospitality. Either in carriages or on foot, Manehattenites are pushy, foul tempered, and foul mouthed little buggers. The number of times somepony yelled at me to watch where I was going, or simply cursed me out in a manner that would startle a Cornish harbour, was exceptionally high as I made my way out toward the exit. 

Unwilling to endure the four foot tall balls of angry any more, certainly not all the way to my meeting point, I hailed a yellow cab. They’re actually dogcarts painted in the yellow, black and white livery of New York cabs, with a single stallion pulling. After about twenty minutes, I was finally able to get one to pull over for me. Thank God it wasn’t tipping it down today. Clambering inside, I spoke with the driver. 

“Get me to 2271 Industrial,” I said. “The cider bottling plant.” 

The place was disused and now functioned as an ‘off the grid’ meeting point for Cosa Nostra types. Marelone told me that he, along with a few of his men would be there, as well as the ‘contractors’ that had agreed to take the job. I felt slightly uneasy going out there, but I doubted even Marelone was stupid enough to try anything. Celestia knew exactly what I was doing in this city, and would come down like a tonne of bricks on Marelone and The Commission if I didn’t come back. 

The cab quickly set off. We slowly weaved our way through the midday traffic, and headed away from the more tourist part of the city. The Statue of Harmony quickly disappeared from view. The streets began to change, becoming far less residential and much more industrial. Large factories dominated the skyline in this part of town. However, in this particular neck of the woods, a great many were currently empty, with letting signs from various estate agents out front. About twenty minutes later we arrived. 

“Here we are,” the cabbie said bluntly. “2271 Industrial. That’ll be ten bits, mac.” I quickly passed him a small sack.

“I shouldn’t be here long. Mind waiting around? I’ll throw in an extra twenty on top of my return fare.” It was times like this that I thanked Celestia for my ability to charge work based expenses to the crown. Tips and the like get you a long way in Manehatten, and that included this cabbie.

“Sure, I can hang around for a bit,” he replied casually. With that I got out of the dogcart and headed toward the plant. 

On the surface, the place looked closed and shut up tight, just like all its neighbours. However, a closer inspection showed one way inside. A side door was propped open, and a small plastic bag was hung on the doorframe. Good, that meant it was safe to head in. 

As I approached, I slipped into the same character I had used to deal with Marelone in my office. Call it acting, or regressing to a past self, or whatever; I couldn’t deal with these ponies with my own friendly personality. Perhaps I should have turned up with sunglasses, a buzz cut, and a black pork pie hat. 

Heading inside, I was quickly confronted by two thuggish looking earth ponies. This was what passed for security to Marelone. I allowed them to search me, since I had nothing to hide; they were nonetheless intimidating though, perhaps a show of force by Marelone. The pair then silently escorted me deeper into the plant, eventually taking me to the factory floor. It was here that I found Marelone, more goons, as well as the ponies I assumed were taking up my job offer. 

“Hey there, Roger,” Marelone greeted, sounding slightly less suspicious this time. I guessed he assumed that my being here constituted incriminating myself. I guess he’s never crossed paths with an undercover cop…or a supergrass.  

“Marelone,” I replied. I then gestured to the assembled ponies. “Is this all of them?” He nodded.

“Yeah, these are the ones who were interested in your finder’s fee.”

There was quite the motley collection assembled before us, seven in all. A few I recognised; Octavia for example was here, in her ‘work suit’; a black, unbuttoned suit jacket, and a black fedora with a purple trim. Sitting behind her was a cello case, which I sincerely doubted contained her prized instrument. Well, not the cello in any case. 

Then there were a few I didn’t recognise. Most were not ponies; as a rule they aren’t that well suited to the dirty business of sending people to sleep with the fishes. There was a griffon, a minotaur, a pair of diamond dogs, and even a draconequus.

Wait.

“Discord?” I exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing here?!” The draconequus appeared unphased by my surprise or my question. 

“The same as any of these bozos,” he replied. “I’m looking for some work. Or at least a distraction.” I was surprised, even by Discord’s standards this was out of the norm. He was dressed in a black suit with a deep red tie. The outfit looked decidedly strange on his serpentine form. 

“Since when have you been working for this lot?” Discord merely shook his head.

“I don’t work for them,” he replied, sounding a little offended. “And that’s rich coming from you, Mr. senior government official. You’re the one using this lot to do a guard’s work.” He had me there. “I’m just curious to see how long it takes the others to find her.” This drew the ire of a few of the other assembled contractors. 

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Marelone ordered, the group quickly fell silent. “Now, Mr. Owen here has some work for you all, and he wants to place the order personally. So pay attention.” With that he turned to me. I began to walk back and forth in front of the assembled ponies.

“The mare you are looking for is Starlight Glimmer. She’s a political idealist turned cultist. A few months ago, she was found holed up in some backwater town with a bunch of ponies that had had their cutie marks removed, replaced with an equals sign. Attempts were made to bring her in, but she disappeared into a nearby cave network. Since then, she’s been in the wind. I am looking for someone who can bring her in to stand trial. But we also believe that she may be planning a larger scheme, hence why I am looking to you.” The various bounty hunters were all giving me their undivided attention, so I continued. 

“There will be a substantial reward for the one who finds Starlight Glimmer. You are free to use any methods necessary, but I want her alive.” At this point I turned to Discord. Deciding to have a bit of fun, I pointed an accusing finger at him. 

“No disintegrations!” I warned sternly. 

“Fine,” Discord huffed irritably, giving me a fake glare. 

I was about to go on, when I was interrupted by the arrival of the cabbie. Evidently he’d seen me go in through the open side door, and was getting a bit bored of waiting. Still, I’ll bet you dollars to donuts he wished he’d stayed hitched to his cab. The Manehattenite found himself being stared down by a boatload of Cosa Nostra thugs, not to mention the merry band of misfits I had been addressing. 

“What the…?” he exclaimed. Marelone quickly pounced on him. 

“How the hay did this idiot get in here?” Letting out a sharp whistle, Marelone motioned for two of his goons to grab the unfortunate cabbie. 

I know for a fact that these people don’t approve of witnesses; particularly when they see a government official seemingly employ a bunch of mobsters and hitmen to bring down an enemy of the state. Like it or not, this little stunt crossed a few legal boundaries. That didn’t mean I’d abandoned my principles though. 

“Hey, hold on! Hold on!” I ordered, waving my hands around. The heavies relented and I turned to Marelone. “Why don’t we settle this quietly, eh?” Marelone merely cocked his head. I walked over to the still restrained cabbie, leaning down a little to talk to him. 

“Alright, friend. Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to turn around and go back to your cab, and wait. When I’m finished here, you’ll take me back to the station? With me so far?” The frightened pony nodded. “Good. Now, you may not know this, but I can be quite a generous tipper, with the right quality of service. Do you get what I mean?” Ah the old tricks, it’s always better to pay them to shut up than to shut them up yourself. I think I feel nostalgic. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get you, mac,” The cabbie replied. 

“Good. Then you can wait out front.” I gestured for the two earth ponies to release him. As soon as he was free, he made straight for the exit. 

“Not bad,” Marelone commented, having watched my handiwork. I turned to face him.

“He gives you any trouble, you call me first. Understand?” I replied. I doubted he’d try and blow the whistle, but you never know. I straightened out my jacket. 

“Right, unless there is anything else, I’ll drift. Marelone is the only one to contact me about this. Other than that; good luck to you all.”

With that, I took my leave, walking at a modest pace and not looking back. The act had to be kept up until the last. Only when I reached the cab did I let myself relax and slip out of the act I had been putting on. 





The trip back to the station was noticeably more tense than the outward journey. The cabbie was sweating buckets, and not just because of hot afternoon sun. I did my best to appear relaxed. We soon found ourselves back in outside Manehatten’s railway station. The cabbie tried to wave my fare, but I insisted that he take the small sack of bits. It was certainly more than the ride was worth, and should be enough to keep him quiet for all day. 

Conversely though, if push came to shove, he would be a good ace in the hole to prove what had really happened sometime in the future. After all, after Starlight, these scumbags were next on my list. Grabbing my notebook, I jotted down his number. What had happened today could put Marelone, and quite a few others, away for a long time.  

Getting on the next train bound for Canterlot, I headed back home. Since it was almost half six when I reached Ponyville, I decided that I would get off there, rather than continuing on to Canterlot. 

Heading to the library, I had Spike send Celestia my report on what had happened. It was probably more secure than taking it to her personally, as my copy was incinerated as soon as it was sent. Spike was like a walking, talking Enigma machine. 

With that done, I set off for home. However on the way, Discord dropped in and began to walk with me. He seemed fairly subdued for once. 

“Well, that was an interesting day, eh?” he commented as we turned onto Stirrup Street. 

“Sure was, old man,” I replied. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you there.” Discord chuckled lightly.

“I could say the same for you. I certainly didn’t think you had it in you to hang out with those lowlifes. But you rather fitted the bill.” Snapping his talons a moment, he changed my usual suit into something far more expensive looking that better fitted a Chicoltgo gangster. 

“Eh, some things you never forget.” I quickly realised that I’d spoken without thinking. Discord, naturally caught on. Luckily though, he didn’t seem to believe me. In fact he burst out laughing, even going so far as to hover in mid-air as he doubled up in agonising laughter.

“Oh, that’s rich,” he said, after he recovered himself. “Imagine you as a gangster.”

“Well, you represent criminals long enough, you pick up a few things,” I replied, recovering things well. “It always helps if you can speak their language.” 

We continued chatting idly as we made our way towards my house. I stopped at the garden gate.

“Well, this is me,” I said, with an air of finality. “I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. Drop by my office when you’re done bugging Celestia.” Discord smiled. Snapping his talons, he disappeared in his usual flash of white light.

Closing the gate behind me, I walked up the garden path and unlocked the front door. The long day, and very basic lunch on the train, had left my hungry for a decent dinner.    

It was nice to get back to being me again.