Pony Noir: We Crusaders Three

by Commissar Rarity

II. Ruffian Blues

II. Ruffian Blues

Originally, the dwarf dragon had set up in the tree library, but he had moved to the Carousel Boutique when my sister ran into his arms. The Boutique was now a swingin’ nightclub, no squares allowed.

The poster on the wall of the Boutique said Haute Couture! Fluttershy takes the stage and your breath, only at the Haute Couture! Oh yeah, they also changed the name to the Haute Couture which was stupid because nopony in the joint seemed to know what that word meant.

After some clever conniving (begging), the bouncer opened the door for us and we entered the Haute Couture. It was a smoky place, better-lit than I expected. In fact, it looked better than it did as the Carousel Boutique.

I panned the crowd, looking for my sister. Up on the stage was a lovely yellow pegasus with a long pink mane curled over her eyes singing in a voice that was even more lovely than her appearance. At the bar sat a blue pegasus with a prismatic manestyle – Rainbow Dash herself, I realised – nursing a bottle of cider. I noticed some empty bottles strewn on the floor around her. There’s your hero, Scoots. A lush.

Over in one corner was a nattily-dressed purple unicorn, reading spectacles perched on her nose as she consulted her adding machine. I had never seen her in my life but I knew who she was – Twilight Sparkle, the only bookie in town and Spike’s pet accountant. Next to her was a pink pony with big blue eyes. Something about her set off my early warning radar and I resolved then and there to avoid her as long as possible.

My pan slowed as I caught sight of a purple and green lump. No, not a lump. It was Babyface Spike, the Saddlecian mob boss himself. He had a big cigar in his mouth and he was puffing green smoke out of his mouth. Spike watched the pegasus on the stage intently, not even noticing as we made our way to him.

“Mister Spike, sir?” Scoots asked.

“Oy vey!” Spike said, looking at us. “What is this, take your kid to the bar day? And what are you guys? A chicken, a marshmallow and a Hearth’s Warming Eve present? Scram.”

“We’re the CMC. Maybe you’ve heard of us?”

“CMC? What are you cleaners or something? I got plenty of janitors, trust me.”

“We’re a gang,” Scoots said in exasperation.

“Scoots, give it up,” I said. “He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to hire us for anything.”

“Listen to the marshmallow, Scoots,” Spike sneered, taking his cigar out and blowing smoke in her face. “I don’t wanna hire kids for anything. Go get cutie marks then we’ll talk.”

“Shut up, I can handle this!” Scoots hissed at me. “Look, we’re a gang. We’ve stolen all kinds of stuff and we beat ponies up regularly.” This was true – we did steal, though it was petty stuff like watches, pocket books and food. And we did regularly beat up a pony.

“I’m a legitimate businessdragon, kid. Do you want me to call the cops and get you sent to juvie?” Spike stuck his cigar back in his mouth and went back to watching the pegasus – Fluttershy, I guess – as she finished her song.

“We know who you are and what kind of person you are,” Scoots continued ignoring both my pleas and his disinterest. “There’s got to be some job you can give us no matter how demeaning.”

Spike laughed sharply. “You know what kind of person I am?” He thrust a claw out, pointing at me. “I know you! You’re Sweetie Belle, the little filly my squeeze left behind.” He pointed at Bloom next. “You’re Apple-something. Apple Cider. My muscle ditched you when her brother bit the big one.” He laughed again. “You really wanna know what kinda person I am, Scootsy? Ask your pals about their sisters.” He waved in the direction of the drinking Dash at the bar. “Ask Rainbow Dyke over there about me.”

Scoots looked over and saw Dash for the first time. I don’t know how she missed her hero all this time.

“You know what?” Spike asked, puffing his cigar with the fury of a drunken pegasus general, “Go over there and talk to her. If you still want to work for me after she’s done, fine. I’ve got some crap for you to do.”

Scoots went over to Dash, dodging waitresses. I shot Spike my dirtiest look and dragged Bloom away before she did anything she’d regret.

“R-rainbow Dash?” Scoots squeaked as me and Bloom dragged up. Wow. That was the girliest I’d ever heard Scoots sound.

“I don’t do autographs. Not any more,” Dash announced to the bottom of her bottle. Finding it to be empty, she tossed it to the floor. “Hey, who do I have to yell at to get a drink around here?”

“I don’t want an autograph,” Scoots managed. I could see that we’d never be done here if she was left to her own devices so I stepped in.

“Spike sent us over here.”

Dash said something very rude about Spike that I won’t repeat here. “Is he still calling me Rainbow Dyke?”

“Yes,” I said uneasily.

“That rotten little… I drive him around and make sure he doesn’t get his scaly little butt kicked and this is the thanks I get. He calls me names. If anyone’s the dyke it’s Spitfire!” Dash proceeded to suggest that Spitfire should do something that was physically impossible, or at least so I think.

“He told us to come over here and talk to you.” I was getting really uneasy. I’d learned early on that drunks were unpredictable and not to be taken lightly.

Dash looked at me, her bloodshot magenta eyes brimming with tears. “I was going to be something. Then I screwed up. And then Spike screwed me. I could be flying again, part of the Wonderbolts, flying up there with Spitfire if it hadn’t been for him. He paid the doctors to ruin my wings, all because he wanted me as his driver.” Another bottle of alcoholic cider was placed in front of her and she leapt on it greedily, popping the lid and practically chugging the whole thing.

“Now look at me. I’m ruined. Nopony will look me in the eyes. Nopony cares about me anymore, nopony would ever care anymore not you not AJ not Spitfire!” Dash dropped her bottle on the floor, cider spilling everywhere and she slumped to the bar, sobbing.

Scoots stared at her, jaw slack and eyes moist. I felt miserable. I had never paid attention to the grand tale of Rainbow Dash until I met Scoots. Scoots had a profound love for the cyan pegasus, and her enthusiasm about her idol was infectious. Dash had become something of an icon in my own life too, and now here she was completely ruined and crying in front of me. I felt broken-hearted and crushed at the sight. I couldn’t even imagine how Scoots felt.

Something clicked in my mind right then and I made a decision. “Bloom, grab Scoots. We’re going back to Spike.”

We left the broken pegasus there, awash in a sea of misery and booze, and headed back to the smoke-filled atmosphere that was Spike’s table. The dragon looked at us in amusement.

“So, you met the great Rainbow Dash. She sure is something, isn’t she?”

“We’ll do your damn work,” I said.

“What.” Spike couldn’t believe what I had just said. I found it rather hard to as well.

“But we won’t do it for us,” I continued, not missing a beat. “We’ll do it for her. For Rainbow Dash. If we work for you for a year, I want Dash to go free. Release her from your employment; let her live her own life.”

Spike scowled at me for a long time. I was starting to worry that he was sizing me up to eat when he finally smiled. “Oy, you’re a filly after my own heart. Okay. And I feel generous today – imagine that, a dragon, generous? Anyway, I feel generous. Not only will I let her go after a year, but I’ll pay you too. Just enough to keep you fed.”

“Also, I don’t want us to have to put up with my sister or Applejack.”

“Not a problem, you wouldn’t run into them anyway. My business operates in the back here, and they operate in the front. We got a deal?”

“We got a deal,” I said.

He stuck out his hand and I put my hoof in it. I forced myself not to flinch when I touched him.

That was the day the CMC died, I realised. The day we took that devil’s deal, even if it was for a good cause.

Spike kept to his word, surprisingly. He kept us paid, and his attitude towards Rainbow – at least what little we could see of it – seemed to have changed. The few times we saw them talk, he treated her with a modicum of respect. She seemed to have improved too. She was drinking less and looked a lot better than she did that day at the Haute Couture bar. Seeing her like that gave me a wonderful feeling of happiness. I can only imagine what Scoots felt as she saw her hero slowly return to life.

Hero worship is a fickle thing. The idols we build can topple easily, even if we think they’re firmly rooted. Our heroes are houses built on sand, not on rock, to borrow an allegory. We all learned this the hard way – Scoots with Dash, Bloom with AJ, me with you-know-who.

But I digress. We were getting a steady stream of jobs and pay from Spike. Most of them were simply courier jobs, taking a note to a member of the mob. After a while, Spike took us into his good graces and started giving us harder jobs. Soon we were committing second-story jobs and running courier routes. If you ever heard about the theft of the Cake Family jewels, that was us. I feel confident revealing this as the statue of limitations was up quite a few years ago.

As I worked more in the back, I got to know the other major players in the gang a little better. The nattily dressed unicorn was Twilight Sparkle and she turned out nicer than I expected, definitely not the type of pony who’d normally work for the mob. The pink pony was Pinkamena Diane Pie, the gang’s chemist. She handled stuff like Mary-Jane and the Big H, so naturally I avoided her whenever possible. The singer was the Fluttershy from the poster. Nice gal, even if her manager was a jerk.

But for the most part, we avoided encounters with the rest of Spike’s gang, only venturing into the front of the Haute Couture whenever it was absolutely necessary. One of the few times I ventured out into the front, I ended up regretting it. There, walking up to Spike was her. I scowled and whatever reason I had for coming out was instantly forgotten. Blinding myself to her presence, I started for the door.

“Sweetie?” her voice came over the smoky, dulcet tones of Fluttershy. “Sweetie?”

I quickened in my pace, avoiding her gaze.

“Sweetie! I’m sorry!”

I burst out of the Couture, vision swimming with tears. I chose a direction and ran off, her voice still following me.

“Sweetie! Come back, I’m sorry, truly, I am! Please!”

I never looked back. I just kept running.