Button Mash: High School Life

by rock4u7

Season 2 Part 4: Your Lying Morgan!

Author's Note:

*WE DID IT YAY*
We'll we did it guys, we are now the longest continues story on Button Belle, jeez I still can't believe it's been a year since I started writing this, If it wasn't for all your continues support, comments and general enjoyment of this fic I don't really think I would have gone nearly as far as I have. so hey, thanks to each and every one of you and thanks for helping me make this story a success :) A gold star for each of you.

The Interrogation room felt dead silent, the grey concrete walls seemed to push closer and closer to Button, crushing him like a beetle under a heavy brick, suffocating him. The only stand-out features of the confine was the milky pale door with a plastic window, no bigger than a book, the other feature was the giant mirror that stared back at button, hidden eyes peering through, hoping for him to slip some important piece of information or fall away with the tiniest detail of his alibi, he was alone….almost, there sat someone else in that room, but it only existed to button, a tumor to his thoughts, staring back at him from the mirror, it seemed that it wasn’t going to leave.

Button had been waiting in that room for ten minutes now but to him it truly felt like ten years, the time moved so slow you could drink it like syrup. He swung his feet through the legs of the uncomfortable chair, hoping to kick up invisible dust, he sat there waiting.

*errr* went the pale door, making button jump slightly. In stepped a thinly-built Mare with long faded strawberry pink hair, her jet black suit wisped against her hooves like wind-touched curtains, she was a beautiful women ,thin and clean, maybe that was the point Button though, honeypot him or something, play on his more primitive erges. She placed a dark carry-case infront of button, pulling up a seat and opening the case, rifling through documents in dead silence, making button sqeam.
She read through two sheets of paper before even acknowledging Button’s existence, her thin black-rimmed glasses sat firmly on her nose, magnifying her emerald eyes like jade discs.

“Mr Mash" she begun, flicking her mane from her eyes, " My name is Detective Noble, I’m here to talk to you about any details you may have in the Mckowsky/Canterlot juicers case, as you can tell we’ve been looking for you for a few days now” as she spoke you could clearly tell how cold of a pony she was, her words came from years of interrogations, she didn’t know who Button was but she would tear up every little insignificant detail she could to find evidence, Button felt uncomfortable, like a rabbit locked in a cage with a wolf.

“Mr Mash, answer me one question, where were you in the two days you filed missing” she asked, sliding into her chair, milky pink hair washed over the shoulders of her suit, straight and clean, her eye’s scanning the young boy’s face for any tells and tweaks, a hawk this woman was.
Button’s head raced as he struggled to answer her question, he stumbled over each brain-wave picking not one neuron of information up, he needed to think…or to wear a new head.
change
change
change
Button never could explain how he could do what he does, it just seemed to come to him, a new mask with a new face, he met the Mare’s gaze with his own, his nature tweening into a smooth cat, he believed he could talk his way out of this, button wasn’t here anymore, he was Lenin again.

the new Colt spoke, playing an act.
“I ran off Saturday night” he told her, his face moving in tandem with his words “I felt like I needed a fix ya’know, I started feelin’ sick, real sick, I needed ‘it’, something to fix that feeling, I caught a rid in to canterlot from Ponyville and layed out at Snip’s apartment, he gave me what I needed, we sat around drinking rainbow juice from his boss, I didn’t mean to do it…it just didn’t seem wrong at the time” Button told her, his attitude that of a drug-addict, he preyed he would fall for his trick, if this didn’t work he’d be in serious shit, he needed her to believe him.
The Mare scrutinized Button’s words, picking at them like scabs, tearing up the dead skin that was his alibi.
“So I take it you and Mr Mckowsky spent the entire day together leading up to the crime?” she asked, pushing her glasses right up to her eyelashes.

“yeah” Button carefully replied, trying to sound trashy.

“Then did he mention anything to you right before he left?” Noble again questioned.

“we got down to our last vile just before he walked out, I wanted it because It was part of my share, he wanted it because it was the last one left, we argued and fought over it…then we really stared fighting, I got maybe two good swings in before he threw me to the ground and stomped my head into the floorboards, I black out right after that, All I know is he took the coach and left me in his place, I slept there and hitch-hiked my way back to ponyville yesterday night, I slept on a bus bench and decided to go to school today…and now were here” Button finished, rubbing his throbbing head, Button’s last stand was here, he laid out his bait, he needed her to bite.

Detective Noble rubbed her chin, running up the evidence she had to what he was saying, she began piecing together her final sentence, she was clever and sharp, a knife of a woman she was, but everyone can be dooped, Magicians need an audience.

“Answer me this Button Mash, do you have any information on Snips Mckowsky’s double homicide?” she asked the Colt, unflinching, her tone plain and simple.

Button twisted his head sideways, trying to play along.

“when we chatted about his work he would keep saying how he was prisoner to the zebra, that Gageh guy, said that he was trapped, he asked to leave but they threatened him, kept saying he needed his freedom, needed to cut ties, wanted to go straight, I don’t believe him though, no one gets out of the game” Button finished, his character more believable than ever, a method actor Button indeed was.

“So you think Snips felt caged by the zebra as you put it, do you think snips wanted to put a stop to his problems?” she again asked Button, The Colt couldn’t be sure if it was working, her face gave no tell.

“Probably, pump enough juice in your system and you could do anything, all I know is he wanted out, I guess he got out if ya think about it”.
“Mr Mash, your friend is responsible for two charges of premeditated murders as well as a break-in and destruction of property, if you think he got away with it than you are quite wrong” she replied, the slightest slip in her tone, Button had broken through.
“We’ll it’s not like those people had meaning full lives or anything” Button prodded again, slowly seeing miniscule ticks in her face, he played on her emotions…until he slipped up.

“What did that zebra have, nothing but a dead son” announced Button, slipping through a crack in his wall, the moment he the words left his mouth he knew we was caught.

“…How do you know about Guy’s son?” she asked him, her face resetting to stiff and sharp, she had found a flaw, a glitch in Button’s persona, his alibi, she had her chance, a shark about to strike, mouth gaping and eyes rolled back.

Button screamed inside his head, the walls of his plan crumbling, his mask falling off and shattering like percaline.
Think think think.

Button needed the mask, he needed for someone else to think for him, the detective was about to pull his alibi out like loose stitching in a heart bloody and clotted.

“Snips told me when, said when he got employed that the guy’s office had a shrine in it, dedicated to his kid” Button replied, keeping as much outer composure as possible.

Detective Noble looked at button, not at his face but at his eyes, reading them like a book, hoping for a slip, one single moment to jump at, thankfully button had saved his ass.

“Is there uh…anything else you needed from me?” Button announced confusingly, watching as she tied back her mane and placed her papers back in her case, her face sharp but beautiful all the same.

“Mr Mash, I’ll be in touch with you, I doubt we’ll be charging you up for narcotics possession or intoxication but I would consider going to a rehab clinic if I were you, Your mother is out in the waiting room, she’s already been notified that you’re here, have a lovely day Mr Button Mash” she concluded opening the large manila door and gesturing Button to follow out.

“Uh…Thank you Ms Noble” he replied, getting up and following out the door, she smelt of expensive perfume.

“that’s Detective Noble” she retorted, leading him towards the front of the police station, her black suit ruffling in cross blow of a near-by fan, the hot humid air inside the building made buttons head hurt.

Button walked past the rows of computers, offices and Ponies suited up in light metal armour, this establishment was someplace he did not want to be, not after the things he’s done. Eventually they parted two large oak doors and into a milky waiting room, boxed seats with sad faces sat everywhere, in a close-by one sat Karin Mash, her face looking tired and older than normal, her eyes immediately darted to Button, jumping up and running towards her son, wrapping her arms around his head.

“Please fill out this form over there then sign out, we have your number and address if we need to contact you” Noble told them, passing Button a sheet of paper with small text everywhere, her face was still plain and frozen, her emerald eye’s shimming like jade.

Detective Noble Walked back beyond the oak doors, defeated.

Clever Odysseus had blinded the Cyclops.

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“Does his story check out?” Noble asked, standing at the edge of a cubicle with four other officers, their sleeves rolled up and a coffee in each of their hooves.

“Compared with the mother’s, hey, it all seems to fit together, I don’t think the kid had anything to do with the murders” replied one of the Colts, his black mane twisted and scattered by the heat.

“Anything strange?” She retorted, taking of her jacket and pouring a cup of water from a water cooler near-by.

“yeah, you know how he mentioned he took juice, well look at this” the Colt pointed out, passing a test result from the narcotics lab. Noble’s face scrunched up as she saw the results, “Technically he shouldn’t even be alive, no living Pony has every tested that high with the zebra juice, he must have swallowed a bucket of the stuff” the Officer finished taking a sip of his joe.

“Should we send him to the ER or something” she replied, half joking.

“nothing they can do, I’m surprised he’s body can even function with all those toxins in its system, the come-down from it’s going to cause serious health risks, physical and psychological, basically he’s a walking sponge soaked full of narcotics”.

“jeez, oh Riccardo, the kid said he stayed at Mckowsky’s apartment, do we have a location, anything you could find?” Detective Noble asked, directed towards an aqua colt with tied-back wheat gold hair.

“Sorry June, but that place is gone, apparently the morning last night the place was burned down by an orange Colt, an Ex-employee of Guy Gwangee, he snuck in and torched the place, probably out of anger, were searching for him aswell, but yeah, no leads there”.
The Mare pressed her hoof up between her glasses, letting out an annoyed sigh, finishing her water.
“OK, what leads do we have?” she asked the group, running her pink hair away from her eyes.
The officers all seemed to give a shrug.
“Are you telling me that a double homicide occurs, over fourteen witnesses, he know the perp, he left the evidence…and your saying we don’t have a single lead, not one little tiny lead?” June Noble told them, gesturing to the four of them, the stress straining against her Emerald eye’s.
“Im going to be honest with you June” Riccardo began, wiping the sweat from his brow, “with Guy dead half of the Canterlot drug gangs are going to try and take his throne, it’s going to be all-out warfare, just like the Los Pegasus riots ten years back, most of our force are prepping for it, forget the fuse June, we need to focus on softening the blast as much as possible” the cop finished, putting down his mug, his face stretched like wet clothing.

Detective Noble, gave a final exhale before chucking her plastic cup in the bin and walking back to her office, a defining sound of ringing phones and yapping mouths in her wake, she needed a drink.

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Button fell hard onto the living room couch, smacking against the black leather like an old dog, his ochre hair scatting out, his ear stud making a faint ‘ting’ against the apolsty. Button was home, back in his house which he spent every day of his life in, a bastion against everything else in the world. He twisted himself deep into the folds, pushing himself further and further into the warm crevasse, his weary body truly ready to rest.

His Mother followed second, crumbling down into the rug-mat, burying her face into the woolly fabric, exhausted and tired. Both the two Mash’s looked like corpses, unmoving, dead to the world.

Karen muffled her words through the soft carpet, her groaning voice seemed to say, “Want me too cook up some dinner?”.

“Sleep” Button replied through the couch, his head barely visible and his body just poking out from the leather cushions.

“Should I at least close the front door” she again groaned.

“Sleep” Button repeated in a louder tone.

They both lay there in the lounge room, contempt to just sleep through the night, one on the floor, the other deep inside the folds of a couch, two of the same blood.

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The rainy-night sky sweep across South Canterlot, filling up old tin cans and pot holes with little tears, the neon drenched streets cooed out hypnotic splashes of synthesize guitars, coaches drove by, there hazard lights staining the wet road in waves of red light, the pathways roared with the hustle and bustle of drunken ponies stumbling home in a stupor, gorgeous women stand on street corners, the lights in their eyes snubbed out by a cold life, along the pink-lit path stands a row red-brick apartment buildings, the same everywhere else, people canned up in their homes, hoping to sleep undisturbed, hearing the sirens and gunfire outside slip into their ears as they dream.

An Old Colt sits in his home, crammed in the cushions of a leather-back recliner, his TV radiating an old black and white show from ages past. HE drank his bourbon with ancient lips, his mane now grey and fizzled by time, his gold coat now faded and stained.

*Knock* went the locked door, making the old Colt jump, he slumped up and heave his slightly overweight gut towards the door, hearing the tinge of rain against the glass windows.

“Hold On hold on” he told the visitor, looking through the pep hole centred in the middle of the wood.

The Colt immediately opened the door and let the cold stranger in, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder and walking him towards a kitchen stool.

“Sweet Celestia, what’s happened to ya boy?” the Old Colt asked, staring at spatter blood that covered the stranger, his wounds bleeding through make-shift bandages.

“He’s gone Saul, Rocko got hit….last night, slit our throats” Babbled Rudey, holding his neck, still feeling the sting of the scissors, he smelt like sweat and smoke, bleeding faint drops onto the floral patterned plastic below.

“Rud...come in, you look like you need help” Mr Whipinglash said somberly, running a hoof through his grayed mane, “I'll patch you up kid", his voice deep with grief.

Rudey caught his breathe as he began to talk more clearer, “That little shit snuck in the club last night, Snips, he started talking trash to me and Rocko then…Goddess, the fucker pulled a pair clippers on us” the ginger coldly explained, still holding his neck-wound, “I went down first, the pain was so intense, he was so feckin' fast.... then Rocko got jammed in the throat,I mean I tried to help him but he was already…dead, I tried so hard”.

The Old Colt bit his lip and turned away, putting his sorrow in his hooves, the tears started to swell In his eyes like sea foam.

“I’m sorry Saul, I tried... but I” rudey started to tear up too, his voice becoming croaky, “I couldn’t save him...I could barely even breath”.

“Rocko…My boy” Mr Whipinglash exhaled sadly, putting both his tired arms up over the back of his head, tranparent strands of salt tears ran down the old man's leathery bristled face.

“I tried to find that Mckowsky kid, found his place and ransacked it looking for him, the little shit wasn’t there so I molotoved the shithole, he’s got nowhere to hide, fucker’s on the run” .

“Rudey… the News already told me” the old man spoke sadly, already aware of his son’s death, he walked into his cramp kitchen space and opened one of the cupboards, taking out a red plastic box with a white cross on the side, he returned and pulled out an assortment of medical equipment.

“I’m sorry about Rocko Saul, I promise that.... Guy won’t stand for this, we’ll get the crews together and hunt him down” Rudey said, carefully unwrapping his washcloth neck bandage; cold and soaked with blood.

Saul WhipingLash paused for a second, unsure of how to tell Rudey about Guy.

“Guy’s gone , that kid shot him out his office window, I thought you already knew, double murder”.

The Ginger colt’s face washed over with confusion…a blank CD, then soon it erupted in a twist stagnate anger, his face contorted in rage but not one thing to do about it, he just sat there, silently brooding as the Old man sew up his neck and bandaged it up with school-supplied wraps.

“Saul we need to” he stopped biting his bottom lip, “we need to find that shit, put a bullet in his head, he deserves to die” Rudey announced, digging for the right words to convince the old criminal.

“I’m out of the game Rude, I’ve been out for ten years now” Saul replied, cleaning up the colt’s bite wound and tying up the stitching.

“But this was your business, you started the drug racket here in Canterlot, every juicer, powder jockey and pot-peddler knows you’re the godfather of this town, just make a call, put a hit on him, they’ll wipe him out like a turd on the footpath”.

“I’m out I said, no more blood” he stated, his breath stained with tobacco, his eyes stained with weariness.

“But this kid killed Rocko!”.

“ENOUGH” Saul shouted, slamming his hoof down on the wooden table, his bushy eye-brows bending inwards into a menacing frown.
“You think I don’t know that, can you imagine the hell I went through today, calling up Basil, Sunny and Nora, telling them that there little brother was stabbed to death in some boozy nightclub by a tweaked out teenager, shit I never wanted my kids to get into that business…my business, the business I started, we’ll It’s over, Im done with all this eye for an eye crap, all the blood for blood, gods what ever happened to no honour amongst thieves, shut up and go home Rudey, learn to do something that doesn’t involve beating folks to death, take a page from life and go bother to do something real with it.....shit” The old KingPin roared, his tired voice croaking as he mentioned his son.

The Ginger Colt said nothing, he felt too ashamed, Saul Whipinglash Once sat king of the Canterlot criminal empire, A mighty golden Lion, he’d slaughter his way through men just to earn some respect from their employers, for years he struck fear into the scum of the earth,cutting a billion bit empire through the country, running entire cartels throughout Filydelphia, Canterlot and the Zebra lands, the Royal guard never could even find his face, he was too good, now he was in the later years of his life, a new living as a school disciplinarian and economics teacher, the tired lion gave his kingdom to the hyenas.

The old Colt finished cleaning up the wounded soul, washing the blood from his hoofs and placing the medical box back in the cupboard, his body in the dull kitchen light showing the ghostly remains of bullet wounds and stabbings, Saul's frame now old and leathery from years upon years of violence.

“Saul, do you know anywhere I could stay, the Guard’s gunna be looking for me, I need to skip dodge pronto” Rudey asked, shaking the rain-beads from his mane.

Saul opened his fridge and threw the other Colt a hunk of lettuce, lighting himself a fat cigar and puffing at it like the old bear he was.
“Sorry kid I can’t take on any heat…but I think I know a guy who could take you on for a month or two, he owns a caravan park just west of town” Mr Whipinglash replied, searching together a plastic bag full of supplies; water, pocket knife, lighter.

“Any details on him” Rudey asked, accepting the bag, knowing he that he needed to leave.

“Used to do abit of courier work for the powder-jockeys back when he was a travelling world-wide big shot, he still owes me for a few big Gs, I’ll send you to him, he should have some space available” Saul explained, putting his arm under the sink and retrieving a pistol tapped to the side, he dusting it off and handing it to the ex-lackey, aswell as a hoof-full of cash that was lying atop the fridge.

As Rudey opened the door, peering around to see for suspicious faces he asked one last question of the retired drug lord ,“What’s his name?” he said, a smoke alit in his mouth.

“Kickin Mash, mid fourties, same accent as you” Saul replied scooping up his glass of bourbon and sliding back into the leather folds of his recliner, the city melting away into neon rays, fizzling upwards into the cloud-drenched night.

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