Chapter 5
Chapter 5
A sudden jolt of motion interrupted the gentle sway of the carriage. Pip’s eyes fluttered open to the ragged velvet cushioning of the seats. He yawned, stretching himself as he rolled to see where they were now.
“Blimey...” he murmured.
The carriage was slowly rumbling down a broad cobblestone avenue, a ship amidst a sea of motion. There were more ponies than he had ever seen in one place, all shapes, sizes and colors. Earth ponies pulled heavy wagons and unicorns weaving in and out of the traffic while pegasi whizzed by overhead, sliding between buildings. The buildings, oh, the buildings! Never before had he seen towers so tall! Even Canterlot’s elegant spires, often glimpsed on the mountainside from his dormitory window, seemed delicate and puny next to these rectangular stone-and-steel titans.
Longhorn, whom was pulling the cart, sensed him shifting about. The mighty minotaur peered over a bulging shoulder. “WELCOME TO YOUR NEW KINGDOM, LITTLE DON. WELCOME TO TROTTINGHAM.”
Pipsqueak gazed about, wide-eyed. “All this is mine?”
“YOUR FATHER’S SEEDS TOOK TO THE EARTH LONG AGO, AND NOW HIS ROOTS RUN THROUGH THE ENTIRE CITY.” Longhorn bulled through the dense crowd and pulled their rickety carriage along with him into a side street. The sun was blotted out as they slid into the belly of the beast. Pipsqueak couldn’t help but notice that in the shadow of the alleys, ragged ponies watched them pass, slumped against brick and stone or peering from around rusting dumpsters.
Pipsqueak pointed them out. “Longhorn, who are those ponies?”
The minotaur glared into the darkness. The dark shapes flinched away from his steely gaze. “THEY ARE YOUR PEOPLE.”
“Why are they looking through trash? Can’t they just go to the market and buy food?”
“THEY CANNOT. NOT WITHOUT HELP.”
Pipsqueak frowned. “Please stop.” Before the carriage‘s wheels had ceased to move, the little colt had hopped out onto the road, Longhorn watching him with interest. He trotted over to where the shadows darkened. A large bundle of rags by the wall manifested itself as a prone pony, a young mare who might have been called pretty were it not for the many sores covered her body and a mane that seemed as though somepony had tried to shave it away. Pip prodded her on the shoulder. Brightly, he said, “Hullo!”
The mare’s eyes flicked open. She lurched into a sitting position, then proceeded to violently cough , spitting something slimy and foul-smelling onto the cobblestones. When the convulsions had ceased, she looked up at the colt.
“...”
“My name’s Pipsqueak, but all my friends call me Pip! Who are you?” he said.
“...Sassaflash,” she rasped, put off by the colt’s friendliness. Who was this kid, anyway? Didn’t he know any better than to associate with a bum like her? Suspicious, she asked, “what’s it to ya?”
“I was wonderin’ why you’re out here in the garbage.” The colt smiled. “Cushions are a lot comfier.”
“Yeah? I wouldn’t know,”droned Sassaflash. “I’ve been on the streets since I could run.”
“Why?” Pip wondered. “Did’ja run away from something?”
“That’s none of your business, you little —” she froze at the sound of something akin to gunshots echoing around the alley. The kid’s giant minotaur had cracked his knuckles in a manner that dared her to finish that sentence. “— adorable scamp. But, I mean, this is a special occasion.”
It was her birthday, after all. It’d probably be a little less bittersweet if she hadn’t forgotten how old she was.
She shifted her rags, revealing a withered, broken wing, feathers rotten and falling off. At the colt’s wide gaze, she explained, “Feather Flu. Had to leave to find meds. My family couldn't afford 'em, so...”
Pip frowned. “My friend’s brother had that once. He went to the hospital. Does it feel bad?”
Sassaflash grimly chuckled. “Heh. No. It started when my wing broke; got an infection. But the cut healed up quick, and I lost feeling in it when the feathers began to fall out.”
“How’d your wing break?” Pip asked, reaching out to touch the ruined limb.
“That,” Sassaflash hissed, “is not for a foal’s ears.” She leaned away from him. “Let’s just say it was the other reason I left home. I never learned to fly, so I ran.”
“Oh,” said Pip. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
The young mare gazed at him, open-mouthed, for a good minute, before bursting out into helpless laughter.
“What?” Pip giggled along with her. “What’s so funny?”
“Hehe! You are, kid! Hoo, ‘is there anything I can do!’ Wow, that’s not something ya hear everyday! Hoohoohoo!” First, Scabby Joe steals her cardboard bedding. Then the colts from the next alley over threatened they’d pay her a visit if she didn’t put out tonight. On top of all that, it was her birthday, whoop-dee-freakin’ doo. And now this? Trottingham was in a sick mood today. A sick, sick mood.
The colt scrunched up his nose. “It isn’t?”
“Heh... no. Not really.” Sassaflash leaned back against the wall, rummaging around in her rags for a moment before pulling out an old, beaten-up flask. After taking a deep pull from this, she said, “Kid, you aren’t from around here, are ya?”
“I’m from Ponyville!” he answered brightly. “But my father was from here.”
“Was?” Sassaflash raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. He’s dead now.”
Sassaflash winced.
“...Huh. Well, I’ll drink to his memory.” She swallowed some more, savoring the hot, soothing burn in her stomach. She risked a peek into the flask. Hmm. She was running low. But she couldn't bear to buy some more, not when she had to earn money the way she did.
Sassaflash swirled the liquid around in the flask, brooding. No, she was just about done making money that way, no matter what the colts from the next alley said. But she was too big to steal like she used to, and too small to break into shops like some of the earth ponies in the alley. No, anything was better than having to go back to that streetcorner again.
She looked back up at the colt. “Were ya being serious just then? About offering for help? I mean really.”
“You betcha!” Pip said. “Why wouldn’t I be? I could really do it, too! I’ve got connections!” He turned to the minotaur. “Right, Mister Longhorn?”
“RIGHT.”
At first, Sassaflash thought she’d heard wrong. There was no way the kid had just called the hulking mountain of muscle by that name. There was only one minotaur in the city who went by such a moniker, the right-hand bull of the kingpin himself, and that monster had been taken down with The Don when his casino had been hit, or so the grapevine went.
She gave the biped another look. Everything the streets had taught her said it was impossible, and yet there he was, dark-furred and more scarred than a Roaman gladiator. Horns as wide as a doorway, and shoulders twice as so. If this really was the same bull... something sparked in her sickly chest, something she’d thought had been extinguished long ago.
If it was true, she might very well have her ticket out of this alley. Somepony that high up on the ladder would definitely have the right connections to help a dirty little pegasus with a destroyed wing and Feather Flu. Sassaflash glanced back at the darkness, where the other bums hid, watching, curious. The streets had presented her with a chance, however slim it was, that things just might get better for her.
Quite literally, she had nothing to lose.
There was no reason not to take that chance.
“Alright, I’m listening,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Sassaflash found herself on her very first carriage ride, sitting on the back seat, wrapped in a ratty old blanket while the kid chattered aimlessly about everything and nothing.
The Don had a son.
A fricking son.
Whom was sitting right next to her, a hyperactive little thing with no regard for personal space and a serious case of optimism.
Sure, the kid had showed her the letter and the book, but she couldn’t read anyway. It was the minotaur’s spoken word she believed, not to mention the kid was the spitting image of his old man, from the few times she’d seen pictures in a forgotten newspaper on the sidewalk.
Sassaflash leaned back into her seat and actually smiled for the first time in... she didn’t even know. Happy birthday to me, she thought.
Pipsqueak bounced and grinned like an idiot as he told her about the time he and some colt named Rumble had pranked the orphanage director by replacing his toothpaste with glue. Sassaflash allowed herself to zone out, sinking into the surprisingly comfortable seat.
“Ooh, Mister Longhorn, is that where we’re going?”
“YES. THIS IS THE HEADQUARTERS OF OUR OPERATION. HERE WE WILL MEET WITH YOUR LIEUTENANTS AND COMPLETE THE TRANSFER.” Longhorn gestured with one massive hand to the glittering building before them, an impressive fountain of water before this and flags fluttering in the breeze. “WELCOME TO YOUR FATHER’S CASINO. WELCOME TO THE BIG D.”
In the backseat, Sassaflash tried not to snicker.
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still waiting for lunas reaction when they find out the don is PIPSQUEAK
"The Big D"
Dick Jokes.
HUE
"The Big D."
...what?
The casino's name is Dallas...?
...
....
.....
......oh....
....oh!
At least two dick jokes so far into this story.
I expect a thousand more from you guys before it's over.
Fight to the death!!!
Pip tries to bring hope and there are those already looking forward to warping the promise
... the casino is called 'The Big D'...
Pipsqueak's father had a dirty, dirty sense of humor. And I approve.
And I think I can already see where this is going. Pipsqueak winds up with allies not through coercion or threats of force, but by... just being himself. Just being friendly. I smell a 'peasant army' kinda situation coming up. If that's the case, this will be EPIC.
OH man! This is getting Good!
The big D...
Nice. Just nice. You get a brohoof for that.
/)
And also a
Big D
Think Dallas, Big D = Dallas, Texas.
Don't think about dicks.....
lol ''the big D'' that's just what casinos give you when you play against the house
INB4 dick jo--Oh wait. Shit.
Heh..."Big D"...
[childish laughter intensifies]
If anyone prefers to listen to their fics in chocolate-smooth tones, TheCaptainSand has been doing a reading of this over on YouTube.
Click here for the crazy deets.
3209894
(\
INTERCEPTED~!
Big D...
...
...
...
Moar plz.
3209188
even better when she finds out that he's helping the poor rather than taking away from them
The Big D...
...
I'll go with it.
~Skeeter The Lurker
That mare might present a problem I can tell.
"covering", not "covered".
3209188
So very much yes.
3209640
Agreed. And to the extent he's actually responsible for the commission of any crime, it's likely to be of the variety that makes Luna say "My, what fine yet rustic architecture. I think I will examine it more closely.". I like the idea of Luna having the head of organized crime as a friend on call to solve problems.
3298911
Major points for a Dorkness Rising reference.