A Prose By Any Other Name

by Jarvy Jared

IX: Conflicting Views

Boss looked out his window once more, peering down at the streets below. He reflected on how long it had taken his family to buy the city streets. All that money and body thrown around, in an attempt to own this glorious city; was it worth it?

It most definitely was! For, in the time that his family had ruled, the city of Manehattan had been prosperous. Poverty was now at an all time low under his rule; and crime was miniscule at best. So what if a large portion of the city’s profits went into his bank accounts? It was their debt to him; necessary and proper.

He smirked. Most of the city’s underground had gotten it through their heads that he and his family was in charge. Gone were the antiquated ways of ruling from the shadows; now, he could conduct legal business in the open, and get away with the illegal at the same time. His family was the first to do so, the first “modern Mafia,” and that was a title that he held most dear.

However, just because his family had all the power, didn’t mean that there were ponies who wished to change things. He frowned as he remembered a particular pony. His features were just as mysterious as his past, and they had always seemed to change in varying lights. Yet his name; his name was now a house-spoken name, so common and popular.

Opacare Prose. You tried to escape your past, but mark my word; I will have you back.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knocking at his door. He glanced behind, before calling, “Come in.”

Swol entered, looking exceptionally tired. “Boss, we’ve got a problem.”

“Indeed?” Boss responded, back still turned. “Do tell.”

“A lot of the boys are starting to wonder about this search for Opacare Prose. Say that he’s not worth all the resources we’re expending.”

Boss said nothing for a moment, but his figure suddenly stiffened. He nodded to himself. “Ah, I see.”

He turned, and brushed past Swol. The tan stallion could feel Boss’s anger rise around him, and instinctively flinched away. When the boss stallion got angry, there would be bodies left over. Nonetheless, he followed him from a safe distance.

Outside of the door was a large office complex, with desks lining up down the center. The cubicles were filled with various ponies of various shapes and colors, all busy at work. Several were filling out paperwork, presumably for shipping in illegal materials from Caballusia. Others were working at accounting, checking to make sure that their finances were in good hooves. The entire complex ran like a well-oiled machine, efficiently completing each task and moving onto the next. Hooves tapping were the clockwork machinery within, and the ding of typewriters was the inner alarm.

Boss’s voice, however, was the sign of the machine not working correctly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, surveying the room with a steady gaze, “it has come to my attention that some of you have been questioning my desires.”

A few of them looked up, but a few kept working. “Swol must have said something,” one of them muttered.

Boss continued, “And unless you all wish to be on the underside of my hoof by the end of the day, I suggest that those who are asking when they shouldn’t present themselves.”

A few tense seconds of silence followed, but it appeared that nopony was going to stand up. Boss let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. We’ll do this the hard way. Until somepony admits to the questioning, I’m cutting all your paychecks by forty percent.”

There was a chorus of loud protesting, but the point got across. Two unicorn stallions and an earth mare stood up, regarding Boss with sullen glares. Boss walked over, his brown coat blistering with restrained anger.

“I recognize you,” he said, glaring at the three individuals. He looked at the first stallion, who was a pale green color. “Newt Ginger.” He looked then at the second stallion, who was a darker blue. “Viper Navy.” He turned his gaze to the female. “And… Minx, was it?”

Newt smirked. “So, you still retain some intelligence to remember our names, do you?” Boss’s eyelid twitched, but he said nothing. “Impressive, old man.”

Viper took a direct approach. “Yeah, we were the ones who were asking those questions. What of it?”

Boss began pacing back and forth, looking at each pony individually. “You were wondering why we’re investing so much energy into finding Opacare Prose.” He glanced around. “Alright; how many of you were wondering the same thing?”

A few heads shared glances, and slowly a set of hooves were slowly raised in slight shame. Most of the room, however, remained silent at this spectacle.

“Boss,” Minx said, “why don’t you tell all of us why this Prose guy is so important.”

“Prose is no ordinary guy, Minx,” he responded with a dark chuckle. “You forget, he’s a famous author, investigator, and many other things.”

The mare rolled her eyes. “Right. But why does any of that matter? All of Equestria is looking for him; we could be taking over this city even more, while it’s busy searching!”

“It would be easy,” Newt added. “We’ve already got the police in our hooves; we could get the whole governmental body to work with us.”

“And the papers are also on our side,” added Viper.

Boss nodded at their suggestions. “Perhaps you are right. It would be easy.” He turned away. “But Opacare Prose is more important.

“Despite our hold over this city, Prose was one of the few who managed to… break loose of our grip.”

Minx and the others stared at him in shock for a moment, before she shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding. You mean he’s onto us?”

Boss chuckled ruefully. “What can I say? He’s a smart stallion. It figures that at one point he would connect the dots.”

He turned back to the trio. “The point is, he has information on us. And I don’t want that information released.”

“So why don’t we kill him?” Newt suggested.

Boss glared at him. “Your crudeness is appalling, Newt. Think about how much we could accomplish with a live Prose.”

“All I can picture is one more dog to throw into the fighting pits,” he responded carelessly.

The brown stallion suddenly lunged forward, gripping the younger stallion by the throat. His voice dripped with menace, his hoof tightening on Newt’s throat like an iron vice. Newt tried to throw off the older stallion’s hoof, but to no avail, and his face began turning blue from the lack of oxygen. Minx and Viper looked at them in shock, but did not move, curious as to why Boss was attacking one of their own.

Boss leaned forward, his mouth curved into a distasteful frown. “Don’t you dare talk of Prose like that!” he growled.

He finally released Newt, the mint stallion falling to the ground, gasping for breath. Boss turned away in disgust. “No matter how destructive Prose could become, he remains an equine of respect. And so long as I am around, we will treat him as such. Understand?”

Most of the room grunted in affirmation, while Viper and Minx looked at Boss in slight confusion.

“Opacare Prose is a rare case. We have some… history, he and I. And no matter how far he tries to run, he is still within my grasp. Once we find him, I will coerce him into resuming an active role in our organization.” He turned back to face them. “That is why he is so important. He has potential; potential to further our own ends.” He turned away, and with a nod, dismissed them.

Minx and Viper shared a look, but said nothing. They bent down and helped up Newt, who glared at Boss with sullen eyes. They returned to their work stations in silence, and soon the complex was filled with the rustling of papers and the clacking of typewriters.

Boss nodded to himself, before walking back to his office. He knew that it wasn’t just potential that made Opacare vital. He had experience; and, in the coming days, that experience would become necessary. He is important; important to everything.

The door closed behind him with a shut, leaving a busy office behind.

In all honesty, Sweetie still found it hard to believe the events that had transpired only a few days before. Based on the conversation in the Golden Oak Library, coupled with Rarity’s apprehensive reactions, she had assumed that this Dusk Prosa pony was not a nice stallion, to say the least.

Then again, she also had to consider that her sister and her friends were talking about Prosa being a “user,” which, after coaxing Rarity, Sweetie learned was not a good thing at all. She had learned about illegal drug use at the school, but she had never imagined that she would ever confront a potential drug user in her own town.

For a potential user, though, Dusk seemed… different. Not in a bad way, but he was strange. The difference in attitude between his arrival to the Boutique and his return was huge; it seemed that he was an entirely different pony. From a cold, guarded stallion to a more warm, polite pony, it certainly seemed that Rarity’s previous misgivings were in poor taste.

So perhaps there was more to being a “user” than just using drugs. Perhaps it was the pony, not the syringes, that mattered.

And, if Dusk Prosa’s kindness in the past was a sign of anything, it was that there was more to the stallion than rumors. Perhaps, behind that satchel bag filled with syringes, behind those guarded, pink eyes, there was something much greater. Something better.

Sweetie Belle’s fellow Crusaders, however, did not share her same sentiments.

While Scootaloo was a bit more lenient, Apple Bloom retained her family’s suspicions. “Ah don’t buy the nice guy act,” she said, frowning. “Ah mean, he did snap at Twilight.”

“To be fair, Twilight did kind of steal his syringe,” Sweetie said.

“Ah suppose Ah can give him that. But that still doesn’t mean I trust him.”

“Me neither,” Scootaloo piped up. “I mean, it just seems so odd. He kind of did brush off everypony, at least that’s what I heard.”

Sweetie nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess it kind of is. Still, though, don’t you think we should give him the benefit of the doubt?”

Bloom and Scootaloo shared a look. “Ah’m still not sure about that,” the tan filly responded nervously. “Applejack did say that we should stay away from him.”

“Because he’s a user?” When Apple Bloom nodded, Sweetie continued, “But we don’t know that for sure.”

“What else could he be using those syringes for?” Scootaloo asked, still remembering how Rainbow had confronted her on staying away from Dusk.

“Maybe something sciency,” Sweetie suggested. “Maybe it has to do with medicine?”

“The only medicinal syringes Ah know are shots,” Apple Bloom responded. “And nopony needs to hold dozens of them with him at a time.”

Sweetie couldn’t argue with that reasoning. It made sense; why would anypony need so many syringes? She still doubted that Dusk was indeed a user, but the evidence at hoof seemed to suggest otherwise. She sighed. “I can’t argue with that. But I still think that we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Apple Bloom looked at her, unsure. “But Applejack said—”

“Applejack could be wrong.” She looked at Scootaloo. “So could Rainbow. So could Twilight, and the town…” She pointed at herself. “I could be wrong, too. But, we don’t know anything for certain, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions early.”

They fell silent at that, realizing that Sweetie was right. They were going off of only what their elder peers said; and, in times past, their elder peers weren’t always right. The issue with Zecora’s arrival came to mind for all three, and they reflected on how only Apple Bloom had truly known that Zecora meant no harm.

Perhaps, then, the same could be said for Prosa. Mysterious, intelligent, and hidden, he may seem like a bad stallion to the majority of town; but, perhaps underneath that cold exterior, lay something different. Something unique.

Scootaloo spoke up. “What do we do, then? We’re technically not allowed to be anywhere near that stallion.”

Sweetie smirked slightly. “Has that stopped us before?”

Admittedly, it hadn’t, and the Crusaders knew that, despite the many warnings of their peers, they still found it in themselves to go on a misadventure.

“But we don’t even know where he lives,” said Scootaloo. Apple Bloom nodded in agreement.

To that, Sweetie’s smirk grew. “I think I do.” She whispered the location in her friends’ ears, and they gave her a shocked look, surprised that she had figured that out.

After a moment of rumination, they eventually decided to see Prosa the day before the party, to better get to know him. While the others were apprehensive still, Sweetie looked forward to seeing that mysterious stallion again with a smile.

Twilight and her friends met at Sugarcube Corner to talk about the latest developments. Pinkie quickly brought over several milkshakes for them to feast on, before settling herself down with a bright, excited smile.

“I can’t believe this!” Rainbow exclaimed, her voice loud with rage. “That guy’s actually moved into Ponyville!”

Applejack nodded. “Ah agree. It’s just too darn weird for me to believe.”

“Well, he’s here now,” Fluttershy said quietly. “Maybe we should let him be?”

“Let him be?!” the cyan pegasus yelled, glaring at her pegasus friend in indignation. “Fluttershy, are you crazy? He’s a user!”

Surprisingly, Fluttershy did not back down. “We don’t know that for sure, Rainbow. All we know is that he has syringes in his bag!”

“But that’s all the proof we need!”

Applejack shook her head. “Whether or not he’s a user, we still should be wary of him. Have you heard what he’s like?” She glanced at Twilight. “How he acted?”

Fluttershy did not say anything to that, looking down at her hooves. Twilight said nothing either, looking out the window towards the north side of town.

“He’s cold,” Applejack continued. “And rude. And awfully full of himself. Ah don’t like him.”

“Me neither!” Rainbow added, crossing her hooves with a huff.

Rarity, meanwhile, looked slightly perturbed. Noticing this, Fluttershy asked, “What’s wrong, Rarity?”

She looked up. “It’s just… well… I’m not sure Dusk Prosa is all he appears to be.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rainbow asked. The other girls had not heard of what had happened at the Boutique.

“His behavior when he first entered my Boutique, compared to his behavior when he returned…” Her voice trailed off as she thought long and hard. “It doesn’t add up.”

“How so?” Applejack asked.

“I’m not sure ‘cold’ is the best way to describe him,” she said with a frown. “I’d say he’s more aloof than anything. When he came to me, asking me to mend his clothing, he was distant, secretive. But when he returned for the clothes, he was kinder.” Her brow furrowed. “Perhaps it was because he wanted to apologize to my sister.”

“Ooh! I remember that!” Pinkie said. “He was awfully surprised when she suddenly darted up the stairs, wasn’t he?”

Rarity nodded. “There’s more, though. He’s… well… he’s well aware of what we’re saying about him.”

Rainbow snorted. “So? Isn’t that what we wanted? For him to know that he’s not wanted here?”

“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity scolded. “You cannot honestly say that he deserves all the pain we’re giving him!”

“Sure I can!”

Before the two could argue further, Fluttershy shouted, “Girls!”

The others turned to her in shock, as her voice was loud enough to be heard by the whole bakery. She blushed in embarrassment, but nonetheless continued, “We shouldn’t be talking about Prosa like this! What if he’s hurting because of all we’ve said? What if he’s sad that ponies think he’s a user, just because he has syringes?” She looked at each one of them. “Would you want the whole town discussing you in a negative light, when they don’t know anything about you?”

There were several moments of silence as the others took the butterscotch pony’s words in. Certainly, they would not like being painted in a bad light. All their dreams would be for nil, dashed away for a juicy rumor.

And rumors were all they had, after all. Dusk Prosa was mysterious; too mysterious, in fact, that little information could be gained about him. All they had to go off of was the idea that syringes meant bad news. Yet, if they could not show evidence to the claim, what could they possibly say about the stallion? For all they knew, he could be the nicest stallion in town. Perhaps his sense of what was nice was different; perhaps he had different views, different perspectives and ideas.

Twilight suddenly remembered Prosa’s words to her. “Accusations submitted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.”

Rumors are not evidence, she realized. Rumors are intangible, without substance. They cannot be solely relied on for concrete proof. And these rumors were born out of the conception that anypony with syringes did not have good intentions with them. As of late, that idea has held strong, as it has not been refuted nor argued against.

Yet, with Dusk Prosa here, and with Rarity’s account, I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve misjudged the stallion. We know nothing about him after all. Guarded, cold, and intelligent are the best ways to describe him; yet that does little to help us. How can we hope to better know him, if we don’t trust him?

And how do we go about trusting one who refuses to be trusted? Who refuses the simplest of gestures, in favor for the cold exterior that he exerts? How do we know that there is more underneath that shield?

“We don’t know,” she realized, the others looking at her in surprise. “We don’t know anything about Prosa. Nothing concrete nor substantial.” She looked around at them, her voice growing stronger. “That means that we can choose to try and be kind to him, and fail, or do nothing and fail either way.” Though failure was one of her biggest fears, Twilight realized that it was a necessity. Only those who did nothing were the true failures; those who failed and learned were the ones who grew.

Rarity nodded. “I agree. We cannot sit back and let simple gossip about this stallion ruin our perception of him. We must simply try to better understand him.”

“And if he doesn’t let us?” Applejack asked with a raised eyebrow. “If he turns us away?”

Twilight looked at her with fierce resolve. “Then we’ll know we tried anyway.”

Applejack and Rainbow shared a look. They still had their misgivings about Dusk, but… if Twilight thought they should still try to be hospitable towards him, then try they would.

“Alright,” Rainbow said, turning back to the lavender unicorn, “but if he turns out worse than we expected, I’m calling dibs on driving him out of town.”

“Silly Dashie!” Pinkie spoke up, still beaming obliviously. “You can’t drive ponies! They’re not cars!” Before Rainbow could put in another word, Pinkie continued, “Besides! I’m sure that the party I’m throwing at the end of the week will show that he really is a nice stallion!”

Twilight giggled. “Oh, right, the party. I nearly forgot about that!”

Pinkie nodded ecstatically. “Yup! The best part, I don’t think he knows the party’s for him! Ooh, I just know he’s going to be so surprised!”

While the others shared a laugh, Rarity looked slightly away. Somehow, she had a feeling that Pinkie’s exuberance would not hold out well against Dusk’s more refined manners. If the way he had referred to Pinkie was any inclination, it was that he was not particularly fond of her.

Then again, she mused, he probably isn’t too fond of anypony.

Strangely enough, that brought a smile to her face. She couldn’t explain the reason, just that it felt right.

Comments

[Azrael the alicorn]

Out of curiosity: will Prose be shipped with somepony?

[Jarvy Jared]

6374561 Unlikely. I like him alone.