When The Mare Comes Around

by nanashi_jones

The Devil's Right Hand

I woke up hogtied, so the day was already off to a great start. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton and my head was packed with pillows. I felt stiff and sluggish for all that I could only wiggle.

“Blagh,” I said, smacking my lips.

There’s a new thing I learned: forced sedation sucks.

“Well. Look who’s up.”

I turned to Matthews. He sat in a chair in front of me, a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty glass on the table next to him. His blazer was off and he’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a pasty chest dotted with hair. A tranquilizer gun sat next to the bottle, easily within reach. I couldn’t tell if it was the same gun from before or a new one.

“Are we going to have problems?” he asked.

I looked at the gun, then him. Even though I felt like I couldn’t stand up, I gave him a steady look.

“Nope,” I said.

“Good,” he said.

Turning away from him, I breathed deeply and focused my attention on where I was.

The first thing I noticed was that Liana and my backpack were gone. After cursing my bad luck, I raised my head slightly to see the room better. I lay just a foot from Matthews’s chair on a less-than-squishy beige carpet. From there, I could see a bed made with white linen, off-white walls, and a middling dresser that had a TV bolted to it. The smell of cheap disinfectant was in the air. Well that, and whiskey and weed.

“Nice place y’got here,” I said, sitting up. “It ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but I’ve stayed in worse.” I nodded my head at his bottle of Jack Daniels. “Celebratin’?”

“In moderation,” he said, pouring a finger of liquor. “We’re waiting on my client.”

I tensed, wanting to shred the ropes with raw strength alone and tackle Matthews.

No, no, no, I thought. That’s not the plan. Get him talking.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve once seen you without somethin’ in your blood,” I commented. “Y’got a problem?”

He smirked at me. “It’s only a problem if you can’t do the job.”

“So you can still ‘do the job’ full of a dime bag and whiskey?”

He shrugged, shooting more liquor.

“Ah,” he sighed, clearly enjoying the fire. “Yeah. They help keep my nerves steady. I used to be a jumpy son of a bitch.”

I snorted. “You coulda fooled me.”

He snorted in return. Rising, he took the bottle and put it on the far side of the TV dresser. He returned to his chair and plopped down. When he sighed I thought I was going to get a contact high from his breath.

“What was that for?” I asked. “No whiskey unless I’m out cold?”

“I know my limits,” he said. “Out of sight, out of mind thing.”

I wiggled in my bindings again. “How long’ve I been out?” I said.

“All night. These’re horse tranqs.”

My gaze fell to the floor and I narrowed my eyes.

“You shot my dog with that shit,” I growled.

He tilted his head. “Yeah, so?”

“You coulda killed me. If you killed her, you’re going to regret it.”

He laughed. “I took precautions,” he said.

I looked away, trying to rein in the anger that was rushing to my head. I was letting him get under my skin while he stayed completely unfazed. In fact, the only time I’d seen him annoyed was when I first met him and made a break for it. Running was definitely out since I was trussed up like Hearth’s Warming dinner, so I needed to crack his cool somehow.

Flopping my head on the carpet, I closed my eyes. I needed to think this out.

AJ? I thought.

And a horrible feeling hit me: that wasn’t right.

Rae?

That wasn’t right either.

But it had to be one or the other unless... Oh, horse-apples. It happened. It actually happened! We merged.

Buck, I thought. I didn’t know who I was. This… Could be a bit of a problem.

Okay… I thought, quickly. So, who am I? Who am I, who am I, who am I? Am I Applejack? Am I Rachel?

I waited for the instinctual confirmation, that personal, powerful understanding of who I was. Nothing came. I just felt like AJ. And Rae. All at once.

Well ain’t that just peachy? No particular leanings either way... Did we merge that much? That’s what this was going for? This? Now?! I ain’t got time for an existential crisis!

Opening my eyes, I took a breath. Well, whoever I was, I had to deal with this.

“You sick or something?” Matthews asked.

“Huh?” I looked at him.

“Your breathing got fast.”

“Just… a mild panic attack.”

He cocked his eyebrow at me. “Well, don’t die. I don’t get paid for your corpse.”

“Gee thanks, I’ll keep that in mind and try not to die just so you don’t miss a paycheck.”

He snorted at me and leaned back.

“That’s right neighborly of you,” he said.

I glared at him. Screw the talking plan, this guy was getting a piece of my mind.

“Y’know what? Fuck. You. I am having the shittiest few days of my life!”

The smug amusement on his face only riled me further.

“Really? Do tell,” he said.

“Okay, asshole. First off... first off, I was buried. Fucking. Buried. I woke up digging out of dirt. How’s that for a start? Then I’m a pony. I mean, then I have a human running my body. I mean-”

The smug had left Matthews’s face to be replaced by the same wary look I gave crazy people who argued with themselves on the subway.

“Never mind!” I snapped. “Point is- I’m no longer myself. Then you show up and it’s worse! I think I have to run, so I do, and I end up in the woods for, like, three days, which would be fine, except I’m not bucking camping! Then, I have to take care of this dog who I’m now all worried is dead and then I get saddled with this filly, who I’m now all worried about and the cherry on this freakin’ apple pie is I’m here!”

Kicking my tied hooves in the air, I yelled, “Hogtied in a seedy motel with a crooked P.I. and I don’t know who I am!”

Matthews stared at me, no longer looking like he questioned my sanity, but checking me over to see if I was made of explosives.

“What?” he said.

“You heard me,” I grumbled, rolling back to lay on the floor. I felt a bit better. Still cranky, but at least all my cards were on the table.

He chuffed a laugh. “Yeah, I did. And you don’t know who you are? You don’t act like you have amnesia to me.”

“It’s not- Argh.” I sat up. “Look, what do you know about this pony thing?”

He shifted his weight to the side, propping his head on his hand. “Some people’re turning into cartoon ponies.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“You smell like horse.”

I rolled my eyes. “It means that in addition to learning how to walk all over again, I got two minds in my head. One human, one pony.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s fucked up.” He at least sounded sincere about it.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” I said. “But that’s not all. You don’t just get the two minds, the two minds are getting closer together all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He considered that and whistled. “Super fucked up.”

“Darn tootin’. Rachel and AJ were together long enough that they… became me. And I don’t know who that is right now, which gets me worked up. So, fold that in with the rest of my week and I’m a mite grumpy. Kay?” I canted my head sharply to the left to emphasize my point.

Matthews looked at me, his expression neutral, but his eyes were thoughtful. I ignored him, flopping back on the floor. Before the merge, Rachel had said I should focus on getting him talking, use my head. But how could I do that now? I was all muddled up and all I wanted to do was act.

A tinny ring pierced the air. Matthews shifted and pulled an old, flip-top phone from his pocket and opened it.

“Matthews,” he said, rising.

He paused and saw me watching him.

I strained to hear, but Matthews got out of his seat and went to the hotel door. Unlocking it, he went outside.

Once the door closed, I huffed, then looked down at my ropes. How had he tied me? A quick examination showed he was no scout: decent knot, inside twist. I could get out of this in a minute.

Which was about the length of a quick phone call!

I bent my head to my bindings and started chewing. I made it mostly through one turn when the door clicked. I tucked my legs back under me.

Matthews entered, his brows furrowed. He looked at me. I didn’t try to play innocent, so I went with what was natural: smart-ass.

“Pizza’s on the way?” I asked.

He wasn’t amused. “Nope. My client.”

“Suuuuper,” I said, flopping back on the carpet. “My day keeps getting better.”

He watched me again, tapping the phone on his side. He moved to sit and when he did, his eyes widened slightly.

“Hey,” he said. “Is it me or are those apples on your butt different?”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Y’mean my cutie mark?” I said.

“Whatever. Them,” he said, pointing.

I followed his finger and felt my eyebrows go through my maneline. My cutie mark had changed.

I still had my three apples arranged around each other, but they were not the apples I’d gotten as a filly. They looked less like the simple depiction of the three most important fruit in my life and more like somepony had painted the apples in some personal style. The red was deeper, richer than it used to be and the stems looked less like stems and more like little black brush strokes swept up and away. Yep, my mark really had changed, if subtly.

Yeesh. Merged minds, changed cutie mark- what else about me was different?

“Yeah…” I said. “They’re… They’re a little different.”

My heart was racing with panic and worry crowding into me. I tried to steady my breathing.

“This is really freaking you out,” he said.

I shot him a look. “You don’t know what a cutie mark means to a pony.”

“Neither does your human part,” he pointed out.

“Which is all mixed in with the pony me, so it’s all terrifyin’!” I said.

He glanced down. He looked back at me. “Uh-huh,” he said. “It’s just a tattoo.”

“Just a-!”

This guy really knew how to push my buttons. I mean, he’d been chasing me all up and down the state and didn’t even know what a cutie mark was?!

I finally got the steadying breath I needed and glared at him.

“Okay, these apples,” I said, raising my side up. “They’re me. They’re every part of me and who I am. They say what my special talent is and what I can do. They’re like a… A life business card on your flank.”

He blinked at me. He shrugged. “Okay.”

“So, round about when ponies are young going on older, kinda like puberty for humans, we start to look around and find out what our calling is. What we’re best at. What we can do for ourselves and our community.”

“Touching,” he said.

“Shut up, I’m talking,” I said. “So we’re looking and while we’re looking, we’re doing stuff. Maybe we’re doing what we always do, maybe we’re trying things out. Either way, it comes. And, then, we know.”

“You ‘know?’”

“Hey, you wanna talk, or you wanna learn?”

He rolled a hand in a “go ahead” gesture.

“Right. You know and the magic kicks in and you wanna do that for the rest of your life. For me, it was apples.” I smiled warmly at my cutie mark. “I didn’t want to do anything but help my family and work on the farm. My home, Sweet Apple Acres.” I sighed, memory of the comfort of home stirring in me.

I blocked the feeling before it made me cry. I wasn’t gonna let this yahoo see me cry. Instead, I glared up at him and said, “So, havin’ this change is a bit of a heart attack for me!”

Matthews ignored my glare as he regarded me quietly for a minute.

I sighed and flopped back on the floor. I wiggled my hooves like I was getting comfortable, but I hoped I might be able to strain that last turn enough to bust loose.

“You get this how young?” Matthews said, breaking into my concentrated wiggling.

“When you’re a foal,” I said, flatly. “You know, like eight to twelve’re whatever.”

“And that’s it?” he said.

I shrugged. Well with my hooves bound, I more bobbed.

“What else is there?” I said.

“What about market forces, no openings in that field, getting fired?”

I sat back up and peered at him. Hadn’t he been listening? This was a cutie mark. As soon as that magic kicked in, that’s all she wrote.

“So what?” I said. “What about them?”

“Look, you just described how at twelve everyone in your world just… magically knows what they’re supposed to do and it never changes and it gets stamped on your butt till you die and that isn’t a problem?”

“Why would it be?” I said. “Everypony knows what they’re supposed to be doing.”

I glanced back at the apples. As I looked at them, I realized I had thought of Sweet Apple Acres as home. Not just a place AJ lived, but my real, true home. I still felt like I wanted to run the farm. I wanted to be with my family. Working with Mac, keeping Bloom out of trouble, helping Granny when she needed it… I wanted to be there. Not here. I also realized I had some new ideas about how to run the place. Maybe I wasn’t as changed as I thought.

“Even if some of life changes...” I said, smiling slightly. “It’s a comfort, that mark. It tells ya who you are and where you’re going.”

“Sounds like a crap way to run a society,” he said.

“Says the guy who pretended to be a cop, hunted me, started a bar fight with my head as the prize, drugged me, and has me waitin’ on who-the-fuck-ever to do what-the-fuck-ever.”

“It’s a living,” he said.

“Crap way to make a living,” I said.

He wrinkled his nose at me. “Not all of us can be magical little ponies knowing what they want to do for the rest of their lives.”

“Not all of us are humans who do all kinds of illegal stuff for a paycheck.”

He sighed, checked out the window. “It’s my ‘special talent.’”

“Crap special talent,” I said.

He glared at me.

“I mean, if your special talent’s being an asshole who does illegal stuff- good on ya. You’re great there. Real crackerjack asshole, you know?”

He gave me a nasty smile. “It’s what my ‘community’ needs.”

At that very moment, I had never wished I was a unicorn so bad, just so I could fry with my horn. I closed my eyes.

“Well, I hope you’re happy,” I said. “I hope your special talent brings you everything you wanted, you ripe bastard.”

Matthews was quiet for a bit, but then I heard him rise. Opening my eyes, I watched him go over to his bottle of liquor. He stared at it. He picked it up, but didn’t open it. He looked like he was weighing the thing.

“Hypothetically… If I could have a cutie mark. What do you think I’d have?” he asked.

I stared at him. “What?”

“I’m just curious. You’re the pony. You know cutie marks. Whatcha think?”

I gave him a withering look. “An asshole shittin’ all over another pony.”

“Ha ha,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “C’mon. Hit me.”

“Are you higher than I thought? Are you tryin’ to bond with your kidnap-ee?”

“I’m asking a question. What do you think my mark would be?”

“You’re asking the wrong pony, bub. Besides, weren’t you listenin’? It’s somethin’ from you. What you want to do. What you think you’re best at. If I went to another pony for my cutie mark, who knows what mark I’d have got.”

He considered that. He looked at the bottle in his hand again. He set it down. Running a hand over his face and through his hair, he sat on the bed.

“What I’m best at…” he murmured.

I left him to his thoughts. If he was going to be preoccupied, then I was going to get free. Just needed to wiggle one hoof free and…

“I figure things out,” he said. “People, puzzles, I’m a thinker.”

“Sure you are,” I said, straining my forehooves from my back. I already damaged it. This thing should snap like loose string!

“C’mon. I figured out where you were at first.”

“You called a computer guy,” I said.

“Using my resources. Worked in my favor anyway. Waters sent you to me, didn’t he?”

“Because you messed with his fandom, you idgit. You ain’t the mastermind, you’re just a thug, a henchman. Sounds like your special talent is just bein’ lucky and drunk. But by all means, keep talking. Maybe you can make yourself feel better for being a kidnapping thug at some guy’s beck and call.”

He looked at me, his expression unreadable.

“I’m no thug,” he said. “I busted ‘em for years. And I’m. Not. One of them.”

“You just keep tellin’ yourself that, darlin’,” I said, unimpressed. “‘Cause I’m tied up waitin’ on your boss and that’s how you earned today’s paycheck. Sounds like a thug to me.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. It was the most emotion I’d seen out of him the entire time we talked. He tore his gaze from me to glare at the TV.

He was quiet.

One turn broke. I coughed to cover it. One more and I’d be home free.

“Dammit,” he said.

I looked back at him and saw he was rising, pulling a switchblade from his pocket. He flicked it up, catching a little light in the process

“Whoa,” I said, edging on the carpet.

“Shut up before I change my mind,” he said, advancing on me.

He bent over me, and just as I thought he was about to cut me, he stuck the knife under the ropes.

“What’re you-?” I said.

“Not being a thug,” he replied, working the knife. He stopped, noticing the damage I’d already done. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Oh, please,” I said, sarcastically. “Like I wasn’t going to try and make a break for it.”

He looked at the rope. “Yeah. Good point.” He pulled the knife through it and I was free as a bird. Well, free as a bird in a crummy hotel room.

“Much obliged,” I said, wiggling my hooves. “What changed your mind?”

He looked at me with that same unreadable expression. I thought he was going to answer me, but instead, he sighed. Rising, he reached into his pocket and pulled out phone. Before he could do anything, three knocks came from the door.

“Shit,” he said.

He was too late. Time was up. The client was here.

Comments

[Dark_Night]

Good chapter, as always... Hope to see more soon, i cant wait to see where this goes.
One thing i've thought about is shouldn't the other elements of harmony already be in new york? Just patiently waiting for applejack?

[SoulboundAlchemist]

Ooooo, AJs in a real pile of crap now isn't she?

[Sergiovan]

Client is here, but so are Bucky and Kicky... Teehee, fun times are going to be had

[websterhamster]

Well, depends on how powerful this Boss-man is, but doesn't AppleRae and Matthews have some weapons between them? They could shoot/buck the Boss-man and then clear out.

However, if Boss-man is powerful enough, he might not be the kind of person you want to tick off. Unless he's Discord, in which case the ponies are going to tick him off no matter what they do.

[Flash_Magnus]

That was really nice of Matthews

Now that cliff hanger made things interesting

[Firebirdbtops]

so you've now started running on a dual core cpu, but your hard drive partition came down, and you may have picked up the new OS. I just hope you don't call yourself Raeplejack. It gives the wrong impression. Though, at this point, it might not be a bad impression to give.

[Pashoo]

This is gonna be good

[arancaytar]

3126972

Could be worse; if she was called Candace then they would end up being called Candleja---

[Firebirdbtops]

3128605 I think Dexter Douglas told me about him.

[arancaytar]

3125440

Assuming that Matthews would actively fight his boss to protect AJ is, I think, overestimating his change of heart. It's one thing to "accidentally" let her escape; another to risk his life against a powerful and likely well-connected criminal mastermind.

[websterhamster]

3128784 He might not have a choice. If said criminal mastermind (no disagreement there, although his intelligence might be called into question for hiring a guy like Matthews) sees Applejack unbound, he/she/it (I still think it has something to do with Discord) might assume Matthews had double-crossed them and not give him a chance to explain.

But you're right, no one in their right mind would tick off a well-connected criminal mastermind.

[Pinklestia]

I bet the client A) Works for Discord or B) Is some horseapples trying to cover his or her mistake.

[Luckyfanisaac]

Rising, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.