Azure Flame

by Silver Page

Crime Pays

‘Today,’ thought a brown coated Unicorn, ‘has been a weird day.’ He thought this as he looked down the barrel of a flint-lock pistol, currently pointed at him by the hoof of one of the top hitponies of Bitaly. Well, ex-top.

The Unicorn stallion’s name was Scarbone; nopony knew if it was his real name or not, but calling him anything else was frowned upon. His coat was dirt brown while his mane was bleached white, the color of dry bones. Adding to the intimidation value of the cruel, spiteful look in his pale yellow eyes was a massive scar, which ran from the middle of his forehead to the tip of his nose. His Cutie Mark was a shovel and a skull, and his nickname in the Underworld was the Gravedigger, partially because of that, and partially because he was infamous for burying his foes alive.

Scarbone was feared through-out Prance as the Crime Boss who ruled the Catacombs, a series of ancient underground tunnels and passages once used to store the remains of the deceased, later abandoned during the War of Undeath when the corpses reanimated. Now, it was home to the fences, the thieves, the whores and the poor; and ruling them was Scarbone. He made the rules, and in exchange for absolute loyalty, made sure that his ‘ponies’ had a decent life. Nothing escaped his eyes and ears down here, and yet somehow a Unicorn, a Donkey, and a Minotaur had snuck in and were now holding him hostage.

The day had started out normally enough. Wake up, pay the mare who’d shared his bed last night, have some breakfast. Things had changed when his agents reported that a number of their own as well as several thugs were found beaten and unconscious around the entrances to the Catacombs.

Scarbone had thought it merely some gang infighting, and gotten on with the day. Instead of running the books, however, he was called away when an informant of his reported that Prince bucking Blueblood had been seen at Mare-sailles yesterday! The implications brought a frown to the Crime lord’s muzzle, and he sent out more scouts to find information. He knew a few ponies who’d pay well for specifics on that meeting.

Lunch had brought more grim tidings; two of his top info gatherers were found muzzle-deep in a dumpster near the Merchant’s Quarter, and another four stuffed into a portable outhouse near the docks. Whoever was doing this was skilled, and the implications worried Scarbone. Could the prince be using elite forces from Canterlot to take out his ponies?

By dinner time, Scarbone was convinced that the royal brat was targeting him and his group specifically, as his lieutenants reported a third of their forces were now incapacitated in some way, while collateral damage to the rest of Prance’s criminal population was limited.

And just as he had been sitting down to eat said dinner, the door to his dwelling burst open as two stallions were thrown through it like ballistic missiles. His guards down for the count, Scarbone was convinced that trying to run would be a poor choice when Creepy Crawly, Bitalian hit-donkey, walked through his ruined doorframe with a gun pointed at his head.

Now, back at the present, Scarbone scowled as a Minotaur and a white Unicorn joined the Donkey.

“I assume you are the pony known as Scarbone,” the blonde maned stallion said.

“And you must be Prince Blueblood. Never thought I’d see royalty this close,” Scarbone replied, his snark masking a sense of nervousness.

“Indeed. Now, on to business,” Blueblood declared, sitting down on a chair facing the crime lord. “I want you to tell me everything you know about Black Phoenix, and where I can find them.”

Still seated, Scarbone fidgeted a bit, but kept his steely gaze on the intruders.

“You hurt my ponies and barge into my home demanding I help, while pointing a gun to my head. Not to mention, you’ve ruined my dinner. Explain to me: why I should tell you anything?”

“You answered part of that question already; gun to the head. But, if you don’t and I decide to let you live, I can have guards swarming the Catacombs in mere hours, and have every last member of your group arrested. You yourself have quite the rap sheet. Life in Prison would be the most lenient sentence for you.” It was true; Blueblood had been disgusted to see the countless crimes this vile Pony was accused of, and disturbed by how none of it stuck; either no witnesses would or could testify, or the evidence vanished.

“It’s simple; give me what I want, and you live another day.”

Silence, the two sides staring each other down. Scarbone broke first, sighing in defeat.

“Fine. I’ll tell you what you want. But, I want you to do something for me.”

“We have all the cards, Scarbone. You are in no position to make any deals,” Creepy pointed out. Scarbone snorted in disagreement.

“What I want you to do is tied to the information I’ll give you. You see, there is going to be a raid on a noble’s mansion during a party of his. Black Phoenix will be conducting it, of course, but you see, the noble, Count Frost Wine, owes me lots of bits. I delivered some “goods” to him, and had the gall to pay me only half of its worth! So, I want you to go to his mansion during the party and bring me back all my merchandise before Black Phoenix gets in there and wrecks the place and the goods.” Scarbone settled into a relaxed position, gaging Blueblood’s reactions.

“You can capture any member of Black Phoenix you encounter for your own designs, and you’ll thwart the murder of one your precious Nobility. Plus, bring my merchandise back, and I’ll tell you anything else you want to know. Deal?”

Blueblood’s face betrayed nothing, but in his mind, thoughts whirled. It seemed like a good idea, almost too good to be true, and while he was loathe to do anything for this wretched Unicorn, he could tell Scarbone would not budge on this issue, even when threatened with death. Saving one of Black Phoenix’s targets would be a small victory for him, and a blow against Vandal, no matter how small, was worth it.

“Fine. We’ll get your stuff back from this Count Frost Wine. When and where is this party?”

“In two days, starting at eight pm. It will be held at his manor down near Nice. Its invitation only, but that shouldn’t be a problem for you. Now, Black Phoenix will be making their move at ten pm, or as soon as all the guests have arrived. They’ll be attacking from the back entrances, while also keeping a perimeter near the front gates to prevent anypony from escaping.”

Blueblood nodded in understanding committing the info to memory.

“We never met, we never spoke, this never happened. Understood?” Blueblood said, his tone speaking of swift and painful retribution otherwise.

Scarbone nodded silently. Blueblood gave his own nod, and got out of the chair. The Minotaur stepped out, checking for hostiles, while the Donkey continued to cover the criminal overlord. After a nod from the towering muscled being, the trio left quickly, the only traces of their visit being a shattered door and two unconscious stallions on his floor.

A minute after they’d left, a trio of stallions, all sporting scars and worried looks in their eyes, appeared in the doorway.

“Boss, are you alright?! We saw the lack of a door, and…!” Scarbone raised a hoof, and his lieutenants shut their mouths hastily. Calmly, Scarbone proceeded to eat his now cold dinner, methodically picking it apart. Once he was done and his plate empty, he daintily dabbed his muzzle clean with a napkin, and stood up, quietly.

With a roar of pure rage, the scarred Unicorn lashed out with his front hooves, smashing his plate and cracking the table underneath. His horn flared to life, and his chair was yanked into the air with a yellow aura. It burst into splinters, his henchponies flinching away from the rain of wooden shrapnel. With a howl of anger, Scarbone grabbed one of the unconscious ponies, and lifted him into the air with his magic.

“You! Couldn’t! Even! Stop! One! Lousy! Prince! And! His! Hired! Goons?!” Scarbone screamed, each word punctuated with a sickening ‘crack!’ as he slammed the stallion’s head into the table. Panting, Scarbone released the ruined pulp that had once been one of his guards, blood and brain-matter staining him and his nervous lieutenants. With a growl of suppressed hatred, he stomped over to the door, his men hastily scattering before his wrath.

“I’m going out. I want this cleaned up by the time I get back, and I want this useless lump to be delivered to my usual spot for ‘discipline’,” Scarbone said, kicking the other knocked out stallion with an irate hoof.

Half an hour later, and Scarbone was seated in a booth in a modest and unassuming tavern. His coat was cleaned off, and his expression was back to its trademark grimly neutral.

The tavern, “Pale Moon Kiss,” was firmly in the middle class district and a spot for tourists who didn’t have the bits to spend on five star dinners. It was also a common meeting ground for Scarbone and his clients, with the staff all on his payroll.

Some might wonder why a crime boss would have a meeting in such a place, but it was quite simple; only idiots and small-time crooks hung out at dive bars and dirty inns. Cliché only got you so far, and only if you knew where to look would you get far in the Underworld.

Scarbone wasn’t kept waiting for much longer, as soon, a slender Pegasus mare walked in. She had the slim figure of a Prench pony, but the lean muscles of a strong flyer. Her coat was pale green and her mane was dark blue, and pressed straight and hanging from her head like sheets. Her eyes, dark green, looked around the interior before settling on the booth Scarbone sat at. Making her way over, she sat down across from the Unicorn, offering him a small smile.

“Good evening, Gentle Mist,” Scarbone said as she got comfortable.

“How rare of you to call me out, darling,” she said, her voice thick with a cultured Prench accent. “Did you miss my tender touch?”

“Hardly,” Scarbone snorted. “If I did, I’d just buy some calamari and rub it on my body to simulate the sensation. No, I just wanted to pass on some information you might like.”

“Really? This wouldn’t have to do with the rumors of Prince Blueblood visiting Mare-sailles, would it?”

“It does, in fact,” Scarbone confirmed, leaning in.

“Usual price?” The mare inquired.

“Not quite. You see, he recently got on my bad side, so for you, half off.”

Mist raised an eyebrow. Scarbone was not known for being generous with anything expect pain. Something, or rather, somepony, must have angered him.

“He knows about Count Frost Wine and his party down at Nice. He also knows about your little excursion to it as well. However, he thinks it starts at eight pm, and you’ll be there at ten.”

“You gave him the wrong time?” Mist asked, and the criminal stallion nodded in confirmation.

“Two hours off. It starts at six, and you’ll be there at eight. He’ll try sneaking in before the event, under the assumptions he’ll be getting back my ‘merchandise’ from the Count.”

“Instead, he’ll be getting an awful shock,” Gentle Mist finished, a cruel smile etching itself onto her face. “And then we can capture him! What a fine gift he’ll make for Vandal!”

“The Prince is not alone. He’s accompanied by a black Minotaur, and a hitpony; Creepy Crawly the Donkey, from Bitaly. I know he’ll have some guns on him, but I don’t know about the Minotaur or the Prince’s fighting capabilities,” Scarbone cautioned.

“This is most wonderful, darling! I must go to make plans!” Gentle Mist declared, not really listening to his warning, as she slid out of the booth with a wicked grin. “Payment will be delivered to the usual spot. Ta ta!”

As he watched the mare leave, Scarbone allowed himself a smirk.

‘Nopony messes with me, Prince Blueblood. Hopefully, you’ll live long enough to remember that!’

Comments

[SageBrony07]

I hope Blueblood beats Scarbone to a bloody pulp. Man, Blue I hope your ready for a show down.