All In - An Applejack Noir

by Belligerent Sock

Chapter Three

The Three Squares Diner is one of my oldest memories. It’s been on the same corner since I first strolled into Manehattan. Outside, it’s nothing special. The only thing worth noticing is the dinner plate sign on top. Inside, it’s one of the last bastions of decent service in the city. It stands right where Greenwich meets Eighth Avenue, so nopony ever has an excuse to miss it.

It was only around eleven o’clock, but still there were customers. A hawkish stallion in a dark suit sat at one end of the bar, alongside a red-headed mare who seemed more focused on her sandwich than on him. Another stallion, his suit a deep grey, sat opposite them. An empty glass stood wrapped in his hoof. His back was to me, and it looked like he was watching them.

Behind the counter was a stallion of about forty years and four-hundred tales. The lights above lit the entire diner, but still he shone brighter. He had a mane so blond it’d attract moths, and a smile that would blind you if you looked at it wrong. His white suit and cap had never known a single wrinkle, and if he had ever stepped out from behind that counter in the past twenty years, I’d never seen it.

“Well, hello-hello, Miss Applejack!” said White Castle, his voice dry and scratchy like popcorn. “How’s things?”

“Can’t complain. Don’t get paid enough.” I spun myself onto one of the stools. I could see my face in the countertop. “How about you? How’s business?”

He grinned as though I had told a joke. “Oh, you know. Still holding on, mostly thanks to regulars like you.”

“And how’s business?”

“Well, as a matter of fact…” He leaned in close to whisper. “I’ve had some very good luck. Some fella from out west came in, gave me a bottle of gold.”

“And when you opened it, did sunshine spill out?”

“Oh, I haven’t opened it. You don’t just waste Sundown Cider.”

I let out a whistle. “Well, paint me pink and call me a radish. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a good long while. It’s legit?”

“Oh yeah. Vintage, too. Pre-Nightfall by one year. 80-proof. That sort of magic just doesn’t exist this day and age.”

“So, who’d you kill?”

He laughed. “Nopony. Nah, this stallion just came in one night. Had a… an adventurous look about him, like some old pirate captain or something. Striped shirt, bandana, that sort of thing. Said he was starving, so I obliged. Found some collard greens, potatoes, and corn, and fixed him a three-course meal. He was so happy, he gave me the bottle in thanks. Can you imagine? A king’s ransom for some vittles!”

I smiled at him. “White, that story’s got more bull in it than a minotaur.”

“Okay, so maybe my private dealings sometimes net me a bit of treasure. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“If that’s the truth, yep.”

“Well, between you, me, and this counter here, that’s the truth. You know anypony willing to buy some old-world joy, you send ‘em my way.”

“If I knew anypony that rich, you think I’d be in this business?”

He shrugged. “Can’t hurt to cast a wide net. So, what can I get you?”

“The usual will do just fine, thanks.”

“Corn sandwich, celery soda, coming right up. Sure I can’t interest you in an apple?”

I looked at him evenly. “You know what I think of that.”

He shrugged. “Gotta sell ‘em before they go bad. And you know how quickly they go bad.”

“All too well,” I said quietly as he whisked away.

Less than a minute later, he set a plate down in front of me and popped the cap on a bottle. “That’ll be eleven bits.”

I half-grimaced, half-smirked. “Ouch. I thought you said that Sundown was a good deal?”

“They say hijackers got one of the Grain Trains last week. Price of corn just jumped, regardless. Sorry, AJ.”

I dropped a hoof-full of bits onto the counter. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were tryin’ to cut a profit, White. What would the people think?”

“They’d probably think about pitchforks and torches. Or maybe just the forks.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that other than a smile, so I just bit into the sandwich.

“How’s it taste?”

I swallowed. It was sweet, but with a bitter aftertaste. Everything had that sort of taste these days. “Good stuff,” I said. “But then, eleven-bit corn had better be.”

“If I could get it any cheaper, I would.”

“Talk to a smuggler.”

He frowned. “Now, that’s not a joke to be makin’, AJ. I won’t do any good from a jail cell.”

“Sorry.” Reaching over, I took a long pull of soda.

“Besides, those sorts of characters would run me dry before they fed anypony who comes around behind the shop.”

“And how’s that business going?” I asked, though I had a good idea of the answer.

The sheen of his coat seemed to dwindle a bit. “Seems like there’s always more every night. I keep expecting them to get angry when I say I can’t give out any more, but they never do. The hardest part is seeing the new faces. There was a mother and her filly here the other night. She passed everything I gave her on to her little one.” He leaned on the counter heavily. “A child shouldn’t be so happy just to see a can of beans.”

“Do what you can, White. Nopony expects any more.”

“Yeah.” His eyes dropped for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose that’s the hell of it.” His gaze fell back on my half-eaten meal. He shook his head. “Now, don’t let my worries stop you. Eat up.”

I lifted the bottle in toast to him and took another swig. The rest of the sandwich went down easy. “Have I ever told you you’re too good, White?”

He shook his head. “Nah, nah, it’s good folks like you who keep me afloat. You keep bein’ a regular, you hear me, AJ?”

I pushed the empty plate toward him. “You got it. So, has anypony been bothering you at all?”

“Well, at least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. The gangs still treat the Three Squares as neutral ground.”

“That’s karma for you. So I imagine you still get meetings from time to time?”

He nodded, a tight smirk on his face. “I figured you weren’t here just for lunch. Who’re you after? It better not be another one of my regulars.”

“You tell me. A mare apparently came by here about a week ago. Magenta coat, rose mane. She was probably with somepony else.”

White Castle planted his elbows on the counter, one hoof pressed to his temple. I could see the receipts shuffling through his brain. “Veggie burger, with…” He slammed his hoof to the countertop. “Pickled beets. Yeah, I remember her well. Strange order for a young mare like that. Had to dig through the whole storeroom to find those beets.”

“You charge her extra for those?”

“I had to. They’re rare preserves.”

“And she could afford them?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it. But her friend could.”

I flipped open my notepad. “So what can you tell me about this ‘friend?’”

“Well, I can tell you he was a pegasus. Had a silver coat, tan mane from what I saw. He kept the rest of him covered with a big old jacket. Glasses, too. He just ordered a coffee.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a date.”

“They were an odd couple, to be sure. They spent most of their time in here just talking. He was taking a lot of notes, too.” He worked his jaw for a second. “That’s something. I couldn’t believe how fast he was with that pencil of his.”

“How long were they here for?”

“About an hour. I don’t think either of them wanted to stay any longer than that. They both kept looking outside, like they were expecting trouble.”

“Trouble? Here?”

He shrugged. “Even I can’t decide who walks in or out of my place. If somepony brings trouble with them, all I can do is take their order.”

“Did you see where they went after they left?”

“That was the other strange thing. They didn’t leave at the same time. She up and scurried her way south down Eighth all of a sudden. Thought she was a dine-and-dash until he spoke up about the bill. Then he just sat there sipping his coffee and writing in his notebook. Took him about five, maybe ten minutes, and then he paid and went the opposite way.”

I set my pencil down. “And that was that, huh?”

“That was that.” He shrugged. “Does it help, at least?”

Sweeping my notebook back into my coat, I chugged the last of my soda and stood up. “I don’t know yet. But thanks anyway, White.”

He gathered up the bottle and started wiping down the counter. “Anytime, AJ. Oh, and again, if you know anypony who wants to buy some good cider...”

“I’ll be sure to send ‘em right to you. Take care, White.”

A little silver bell rang clean and clear as I opened the front door. Outside, Eighth Avenue was beginning to show signs of the lunch rush. It was the one thing that could still get ponies out into the streets without hesitation. I looked up one way, and down the other.

I settled on south, following in her footsteps. Hard hooves on hard pavement.

Comments

[Konrax Hatred]

Ante up

[Emptybee]

The diner from Nighthawks, well done.

[Csquared08]

>White Castle
You monster.

[Jetfire2012]

I am very much enjoying this story. The altered circumstances have combined to create a perfect noir setting, and Applejack's character- hard but with an undercurrent of sweetness- makes her the ideal Sam Spade. Very interested to see where this story goes.

[Corejo]

5184661
I warned him. He didn't listen.

[WhitewolfStormrunner]

"Well, hello-hello, Miss Applejack!” said White Castle, his voice dry and scratchy like popcorn.

I see what you did there.

“Corn sandwich, celery soda, coming right up. Sure I can’t interest you in an apple?”
I looked at him evenly. “You know what I think of that.”
He shrugged. “Gotta sell ‘em before they go bad. And you know how quickly they go bad.”
“All too well,” I said quietly as he whisked away.

I'd sure like to know the story behind Applejack, of all ponies, not wanting an apple to eat. (Did something bad happen between her and the family when she left the farm?)

I hope that we get an explanation of this soon.

[MaeceusMan]

Great story so far, love a good noir!

And be careful in Manehattan AJ.
When the Big Apple goes bad, the most rotten part is the core.

[Maran]

Just judging from the tags, I'm guessing Sugar Beet was murdered.

Hm, you haven't mentioned what AJ's cutie mark is. I can't imagine it's still apples.

[Monanniverse]

Have fun.