Sleazy Bargins
The two trotted out of Velvet’s little home and into a barrier of cold air. The fall winds were accumulating, descending from heaven in frigid waves that battered themselves against the tossed-together shacks that filled the ghetto.
Others, as the ponies of the Crown called anything that wasn’t a pure-blooded earth pony, walked at a brisk pace along the sidewalks, accustomed to the chill winds but still wrapping themselves with ratty blankets and torn jackets.
As Ardour led the way down towards the centre of the poor village, he carefully navigated through the widest, most crowded streets, keeping his head low and his eye on the shadows. There was little danger for him, part of his mind insisted. No petty thief would try to hit an armed stallion and an equally armed griffin on such a visible road without decent cover. Unless that thief was really stupid, which, considering the local thieves, wasn't too far of a stretch.
Brief looked on ahead for them, his yellow eyes narrowed into slits as his natural predatory sight allowed him to spy on the roads ahead. Then he saw something that made his blood run cold, and he reached out with a clawed hand, grabbing Ardour by the shoulder. He said, "Look."
Ahead of them, eight guards were trotting forward in a loose circle, all of them wielding revolver-loaded rifles on their straight backs. Within the circle were a pair of mares and a stallion, the three of them smiling and laughing while a servant held an umbrella above their heads. The retinue marched at a slow pace, the road clearing for their presence as ponies zipped out of their way and into the welcoming shadows of the alleys.
“Dammit, let’s take a side-route. I don’t need any more trouble.”
“Danger on the side paths.”
Ardour nodded. “You’re right. We could hide on the side until they’ve passed, then keep trekking. Worst case scenario: we find a way through the alleys, despite the danger.”
They split from the wide road and beelined into an alley, stepping over a mound of fly-infested trash before sinking into the shadows and the putrid smells of the ghetto. A rat scurried out of their way deeper within the backroads, but otherwise it was quiet.
The captain trotted to the edge of the alley and peeked out, frowning at the approaching nobles. “They’re not too slow, at least,” he murmured before backing up once more.
“How much do you think it would take to get the Clipper airborne again?” he asked, trying to waste some time.
“Depends.”
He nodded. “On whether or not we want it to stay airborne for long or not.... I meant a quick flight, just something to get us on our hooves again. Say, from here to Bishopi.”
Brief looked at the overcast sky, his beak clicking shut after tasting the air with a flick of his tongue. “Three thousand bits. Minimum. More if we want all the motors to work.”
He looked out of the alley again, just in time to see the nobles passing by. “How was the port-side motor last time you checked?”
“Dead.”
A colt trotted out of a store across the street, the little pegasus stumbling into the path of the oncoming nobles with a limp. One of his wings was wrapped in a bandage, as was one of his legs.
The retinue slowed down, the guards staring at the colt as if deciding whether or not the tiny pony was a threat.
The colt tried to turn around and gallop away, gasping as he saw the small army, but all he succeeded in doing was falling face-first into a puddle of stagnant water, splashing it all over as he tried to climb out of the pothole.
The nobles trotted on, laughing at the pitiful creature as they zeroed in on it. “Oh, look what we have found ourselves here. A poor, poor little colt,” the mare said, venom laced in her words.
“I-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the colt said, backpedaling away from the mare before bumping into one of the noble stallions.
“You, you,” the stallion began, staring wide-eyed at the water stains the colt had splashed onto his finery. “You swine!” The stallion reared up, delivering a quick, weak jab of his forehoof into the colt’s face.
“I-I’m sorry sir!” the mound of flesh and matted fur said from the ground, shivering as he curled himself up. “I didn’t mean to, please, I’m sorry!”
The noble backhoofed him. “Don’t talk to me, winged filth! You’re nothing. Count yourself lucky that we must make haste, else I would have you skinned alive!” With another swift kick the noble turned and left, swearing under his breath about the vile manners of plebeians.
Those following him spat on the colt as they passed, followed by their guards as they trotted down the road.
Ardour found himself held back by a clawed hand on his shoulder, his nostrils flaring as he glared at the passing nobles. “Reminds me why I hate this sorta place,” he spat. He and Brief watched as the nobles reached the road’s end and turned around the corner. “Should we help the kid?” he asked Brief, licking his lips.
“No, look,” the griffin said, pointing a claw at the colt.
He stood up, grinning from ear to ear as the bandages around his hoof and wing fell off, revealing limbs that were far from damaged. Tucked beneath said wing were both a wallet and a pearl-studded purse that the colt grabbed in his mouth before flying into the shadows between buildings.
“Wow, got to give the kid some credit,” Ardour said, a rueful smile adorning his face. “I’ll betcha Sleazy’s got something to do with that little orchestration. Let’s go meet the bastard.”
They ran out of the alley and found the street filling up again with the meager pickings of stallions and mares and other somewhat intelligent beasts that occupied the less-desirable parts of Rook. As they trekked along, the houses and buildings of commerce degenerated, until all that was left were tin-roofed, single-room dwellings that hardly deserved the title of house. Colts and fillies scampered around the shacks, screaming and playing wild games with little care for their poverty.
Tough looking griffins nodded to Brief, and a few dirty mares poked out of the shadows to wink at Ardour and offer him a good time. He recoiled at the sight of them. They had nothing on the mares that Velvet employed.
“Almost there,” Brief said in his low, baritone voice, dark eyes scanning the maze ahead.
Ahead was a choice of paths, each one closely guarded by armed ponies that all seemed occupied with time consuming tasks. Every few moments, one or two of them would peek up at the newcomers or allow their hooves to crawl over the length of their holsters.
“Well, damn,” Ardour said aloud in a boisterous, carrying voice. “Ain’t Sleazy got a nice welcoming party laid out here, huh Brief?” His voice bounced off tin walls and into the perked ears of the stallions.
“Yes sir, Captain. Nice welcoming party,” Brief repeated, puffing out his chest and making himself taller.
“It’d be a real shame if we never got to meet him,” Ardour added, eyeing the nearest of the stallions.
At his side, Brief nodded sagely. “Real shame.”
Ardour sat down hard, dust shifting out beneath him. “Hmm, seems like I forgots how ta get there. It’d be awful nice if some fine gentlestallion would point me the way.”
“Why, wouldn’t that be just great, Captain,” Brief said. “But where would we find ourselves such a fine gentlestallion?”
“I don’t know, Brief, but it’d be terrible if we’re late to our appointment just because nopony wanted to show us the way there. Sleazy’s goin’ ta be mighty disappointed.”
A few of the would-be guards looked at each other with wide eyes, blinking as their minds raced. One of them opened his mouth before closing it, frowning as he couldn’t form the words. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, one of the ponies playing cards stood up. “Fine, I’ll lead y’all over to the boss’s place. But you two ought to talk less loudly. Crown’s been trotting ‘round these parts all week.”
Ardour gave the stallion a rueful smile. “Thanks, I welcome the help,” he said, voice now lower and not nearly as dramatic. “What’s your name, sir?”
The stallion trotted into the right-most path. “Name’s Beau, Beau Tie. I lead this sorry bunch of fools,” he said, pointing over his winged back to the group of guard ponies that were returning to their restive state. “And I work for the Boss.”
“Here we are,” Beau said as he trotted ahead and parted a curtain that was hung across their path. “Apple Pie,” he said to those on the other side in a monotonic tone.
Ardour and Brief cringed involuntarily as they heard guns lowering, and they passed through the makeshift barrier.
It was a mansion, of sorts.
A two story tin-walled house had been built with a sign proclaiming the place to be the PITSTOP dangling from a loose chain above the double doors that were its entrance. Dilapidated windows were painted over with black tar, behind which shadows moved in lamplight while, around the front of the building, a sort of courtyard had been erected.
A statue that had once belonged to a fountain decorated the courtyard’s centre. Three ponies reared up, their forehooves joined at the top, where a jewel was evidently supposed to reside. They were all earth ponies, but one of them had an iron spike jammed where a horn would be on a unicorn while the other had a skeletal form of mismatched wings on its stone back.
Around the statue were tables and chairs where all sorts of undesirables were talking and drinking piss-coloured drinks served by skimpily dressed ponies. Others were honing blades at a conveniently placed grindstone or talking to a pony hidden in the shadows, who was displaying wares of dubious legality from within the folds of his trench coat.
“Looks like paradise,” Ardour muttered, glaring at the scene. He sniffed, detecting the faint odour of spent gunpowder and burnt metal that was always present in those sorts of places.
“It’s not too shiny,” Brief agreed, nodding at the building.
Ardour glanced at the place, and then at Beau. “Can we find him inside?”
“Yeah, he’ll be upstairs, prolly. Oh, and don’t mention his size if you like ta walk tall,” the pony said, pointing with his chin to a beggar off to the side. The beggar pony’s legs had been sawed through the shins. “Hope you survive, or not.”
Ardour walked towards the bar, holding himself low and cautious, aware that his griffin friend was only a step behind. Just as they reached the front of the building, the doors exploded outwards and a pair of ponies tumbled out, scratching and clawing at one another in a flurry of violent activity. Others got up and began placing bets while Ardour and Brief ran in.
The inside had fared no better than the exterior. The air was so thick with smoke that they could hardly see across the large room, and their breathing became strained, each breath a labour to take. The sound of old mugs scratching across well-worn tables filled the room, accompanied by the low bass of laughter and the clinking of glass.
He beelined for the bar where a griffin was hiding behind his counter, cleaning off a glass with a dirty towel. “What can I serve y’all?” the bird squaked.
“Nothing. We’re lookin’ for Sleazy. He around?”
The griffin nodded and plunked his mug down on the table. “Might tell ya, for a pence,” he said, never actually bothering to look Ardour in the eye. Instead he leaned onto the table and screamed obscenities at one of his rowdier customers.
Ardour glared at him, then, reluctantly, reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and dropped a single bit on the table. “That’s all you’re getting out of me,” he said, not adding that it was his last coin.
The barkeep swiped the shiny metal disk off the counter then pointed with the tip of his sharp beak towards the far corner of the room. “Up the steps, knock on the big door, then he might let you in,” he instructed before returning to his cup-cleaning duties.
“That was a waste of bits,” Ardour grumbled as they trotted away from the bar and towards the shadowy corner. There, a staircase rose out of the ground and disappeared into the floor above, made entirely of steps that seemed just a little small to Ardour’s eyes. On either side of the steps were dour-faced ponies, a stallion, and an overly armed mare nonchalantly wielding what looked to the captain like a revolver-fed light machine gun. “Hello, lady, gentlecolt,” he said, nodding to each in turn. “I have a matter to discuss with your boss, Sleazy.”
“You Ardour?” the mare asked, leaning up against her weapon.
Ardour and Brief traded a look. Without words they confirmed that neither had been expecting a welcome mat, or even that they were expected. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ah, good show. Sleazy wants ta see you. Head on up, and, uh, call him by his real name when you’re ‘round him, alright? It’s just simple respect and all that.”
He nodded and made his way up the tiny steps two-by-two, until he reached what some would have tentatively called the second story. The upper floor was designed like a maze drawn by a two-year-old filly on looseleaf. The walls were crooked, corridors jutted out and ended abruptly, the lighting was scarce, and every path led to a single place: a monolithic oak door at the centre of the floor.
More guards were posted along the walkways and corridors, all of them keeping weapons within easy reach as they eyed the newcomers. “I’m starting to have the impression that Sleazy’s little empire has grown,” Ardour whispered to Brief as they gently coasted along, trying not to make any sudden motions.
He licked his lips, studiously ignoring the beads of sweat forming along his hairline as they neared the door. Since the building’s tin walls somehow managed to disperse heat, oil-heaters had been scattered here-and-there across the maze, like pieces of cheese goading the mice along. In a place where the cold was the worst enemy and warmth was a commodity, the tin-walled shack, with its many heaters and few degrees too many, was positively opulent.
Raising a hoof as he reached the doorway, Ardour prepared himself to knock just as somepony within called out, “Come on in,” with a raspy and sly tone.
He paused, then slowly lowered his hoof to the brass doorknob and twisted.
Two Bit was sitting beside a hearth, both of his hooves stretched out towards the fire. This room, unlike the rest of the establishment, was devoid of the pungent scent of alcohol and piss, instead replaced with the scent of lilacs and the woody odour of fine scotch. “‘Ello, Ardour,” Sleazy said, drawing attention back to himself.
He lowered his hooves to adjust the lapels of his too-big jacket as he gave them a gold-tooth filled grin. “How’re ya doin’, mate?”
“Well, I’ve bee—”
“That’s great,” the pony said as he hopped off his seat. “I got wind that you were lookin’ for work. Desperately lookin’. Ah like it when folks think of me as a source of help,” he said, touching himself on the breast as he stopped a few paces short of Ardour. “See, I think of myself as a pony of the people. A helping hoof for those in need. A pillar of the community. I don’t mind giving you a bit of help, old friend.”
Ardour took a step back, frowning at the pony before eyeing the room. “Two Bits. I’ve known you for a long time, a very long time. Back in the day you used to deliver messages for the One-Wing Gang, and I was flying a cheap skiff that only had half a motor. Never in all that time have you been a pony of the people. Now, I ain’t meaning no disrespect, but what’s with the friendly act?”
The short pony arched an eyebrow. “Well well, I was just trying to be nice. But have it your way. See Ardour, unlike you, with your dated thoughts on chivalry and your little noble streak, I’m a thinking pony. I fought and bit and clawed my way up the ranks while you sat around on that fat rump ’a yours. Now I’m the bloody king ‘round these parts.” He took a few steps towards Ardour, poking the captain in the chest from below. “You’d better keep all that in mind if you’re comin’ here to ask me for work, Ardour.”
Ardour bit his tongue and nodded. “Got it, but I don’t feel like being messed with, Sleazy.”
Sleazy grinned. “I won’t mess with you, not while you’re still useful.” He pointed to the fireplace, where two seats were waiting, empty. “Come on, sit down and warm up. Where you’re going, it’s colder than Tartarus.”
Ardour acquiesced and followed the businesspony, his coat warming up the closer he got to the open flames. “Where are we going? Velvet only said that you had work, but nothing about what that work entails.”
“Oh, your job’s easy. I wouldn’t trust you with anything important. No, no, no. You only have to fly off like a little birdie. See, that ugly ship of yours is just what I need for this little... errand. I just want you to drop something off for me. Want to know what it is?”
“Not particularly.”
“Perfect! ‘Cause I’m not paying you to be curious. All you have to do is take the box from here,” he said, emphasizing his words with large gestures, “and take it to the city of Knight. Actually, it’s not even that hard. You can dump it out halfway, right where I tells you to, then fly on to Knight.”
Ardour shuddered, and placed a hoof on either side of the little chair. “Okay, I’ll take it.”
Sleazy nodded, grin never fading. “Ah knew you’d see reason. I’ve already sent out my ponies to put things in your ship. ‘Course, you’ll be needing to bring passengers too.”
“Passengers?”
“Don’t want the Crown getting snoopy and all that, right? Just a few well-meaning ponies that we’ll grab off the streets. Can’t send any of mine; the Crown’s been watching me.”
One of Ardour’s eyebrows perked as he wondered what the little pony could possibly have done to incur the curiosity of the Crown before chalked it off to the pony’s delusions of grandeur. “You’re being real nice, Mister Sleazy.”
“Just call me Sleazy. Only one person ever called me Mister Sleazy, and that’s my wife,” he said, grin growing slyly.
“Y-you have a wife?” Ardour asked, voice rising as the question stuttered out of him.
Sleaze shrugged. “Had one. Killed her a while back,” he said before reaching into the inner lapels of his jacket and yanking out a cigar. He bit off the end and spat it into the fire, where it burned under their watchful gazes. “Anyhow, you ought to be going. Some of mine have run off to that flying wreck of yours. I told them to patch the thing up just enough for it to keep to the air.”
Ardour sat straighter. “You sent them where?”
“The Sky Clipper, or whatever terrible name you gave the hunk of stinking crap. After all, I want the thing to actually get the mission done, can’t have it crashing half-way. I also wanted to make damned sure that you knew where you’re goin’. Had my ponies play around with your charts a little.”
The captain licked his lips and concentrated on his breathing. To any captain, to that day and age, to anypony that took to the air, the maps on board a ship were treasures. It was preferable to lose every life raft on a ship before losing a single page from a log book. With those maps a pony could plot a trajectory anywhere he had been before and know of the seasonal winds and tides. The Sky Clipper may not have been the prettiest of ships, but she had traveled, and she had traveled well. Her logs were full and worth, easily, more than the ship itself.
“Ah, I know that expression,” Sleazy said, cracking a smile as he struck a match and lit his cigar. The smell of it reeked like old mould mixed with the enticing odour of burning sulphur. “That’s the face of somepony who just found out that life’s not always fair. Don’t worry, little Ardour, this one’s more than fair for you.”
With a quick gesture to one of the ponies crammed into the office, Sleazy had a briefcase brought over and deposited at the foot of Ardour’s chair. The two stallions stared at each other, Sleazy with a rueful, knowing smile, Ardour with a carefully blank stare.
Ardour leaned over the case, running the tip of his hoof along the edge until he found its catch. He hesitated. Sure, Velvet had hinted that the bits were many and the job worth it, but the part of him that still held a bit of decency told him that this job was more complicated than it seemed, and with ponies like Two Bit dolling out the bits, those complications were on the wrong side of the law.
Brief took a few steps forwards and placed a clawed hand on his shoulder, his grip tight and warm. “Do as you want, Captain.”
“Isn’t that what I always do, Brief?” he said as he pushed on the tabs. With a pair of sharp clicks, the case opened up on its spring hinges.
Ardour swallowed and tried hard to control his breathing, his eyes slowly turning from the contents to Sleazy. “What’s all this?”
“Can’t recognize a fat wad of bits when you see it? Shame. Guess you’re not the sort that bits would like ta stick onto.” Sleazy laughed at his own joke, and soon his guards were joining him with hollow, booming laughs of their own. “Now, as for how much. That’s two hundred thousand. Half in Imperial Crowns, the other half in Equestrian bits. The bits are worth more, always are, but the deeper inland you go the less they want ‘em, though they could come in handy.”
“All this just for transportation?”
“Yeah, and the fixes we do on your ship are free too. Aren’t we just so generous?” Sleazy’s smile only grew as he took a long pull of his cigar and released a plume of smoke, which trailed up to the ceiling.
Ardour stood up, bringing a hoof down to slam the case shut like a hammer on an anvil. The thump of the briefcase closing reverberated through the room. “Fine, I’ll take your job. But it’s not because I want to. You’re up to something, and I don’t even think I want to find out what.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way. Now go check on that boat of yours. I have better things to do.”
Edited by:
The Misfits
Chapter two!
Or is it three?
Does the prologue count as a chapter?
Bah, who cares?
So, here we meet a few more ponies that have no real importance to the plot. Well, that's not completely true....
Our little adventurers are off to save the princess save the world smuggle something to a faraway land! Woo! Of course, my job is to make everything crash and crumble around them.
Who wants to start a betting pool on whether or not they make it?
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Oh shit they're heeere!!!
Happy Opus Day, Raven! (?)
MOTHER. FUCKIN'. FIREFLY.
Definitely reading, always upvote Firefly.
Were the holes in The Sky Clipper caused by Celestia? I know that she turned that one ship into swiss cheese in the sister story.
3613603
Nah. The Sky Clipper is still in Rook while the first chapter of this story is going on. I litterally wrote them in the same, exact, timeframe.
Characters will meet. It will be... weird.
This and Of Defenestration have been hyped up since you first announced it to today. I am glad to see that you lived up to it Ravens.
I am highly looking forward to seeing where this is going and I am very pleased with what I have read so far.
Oh screw it, I can't hold it in any more...
Oh, finally! A firefly ish fic!
I know what I'm doing! Re-watching the show before I read the fic is what!
Imma need a lot of popcorn!
Wait... Archer?
Otherwise, great job! This story is fantastic, and I can't wait for more!
Stories like these make me think about what kind of character I'd have in that universe and how awesome my own ship would be.
Sadly, not my story.
Can't wait for the next installment!
3624874 so I'm not the only one who does that..... good to know
3626706>>3624874
I do that too.
I mean, with other people's stories. And mine too, I guess.
3626946
At least with your own stories you can actually do something about it, I gave up on trying to write fanfiction awhile ago.
When they're not yours it's just like "AUGH" and you silently hope the author reads your mind and randomly has you walking around in the backround of the story so you can get some kind of minor validation.
3626706
Glad to help!
Raven, you are a great writer. Clean and simple. You definitely should write tons more Of Rumbling Dinks, Of Defenstration, andOf Solicitude. I am more eager for these than new episodes of MLP (which I do jump up and down and hyperventilate over). Please write more, it was just getting good!
I absolutely love this. The tone, style, and worldbuilding are fantastic: gritty and cynical but not alienating-ly so. It's a fantastic homage to Firefly without feeling like a rip-off, and I'd love to see more homaging like this in the fandom.
Are you going to continue this? I've got a hunch where this is headed, but I don't need this cancelled as well.