A Made Man

by chillbook1

Paying Your Dues

Octavia hefted the final wooden crate up and into the bed of the loading truck, removing her hat to fan herself and wipe the sweat from her brow. She despised the sticky heat of Manehattan’s summers. They made her long for her childhood in Trottingham, where summer only meant that the perpetual rain would be slightly warmer than usual. There, the air was crisp and clean. In Manehattan, Octavia felt herself choke on the very air of the large city, which had a certain smog-like quality to it.

“That’s the last of it, Doc,” said Octavia. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, whenever you want to head out,” sighed the Doctor, after triple counting their cargo. Though she refused to admit it, Octavia quite liked her new partner. He was mostly quiet, could follow directions, and didn't take it personally that she refused to learn his name. All she knew was that he used to be a doctor, so that was what she called him.

“Are you certain that's all?” asked Octavia. “The Boss is expecting fifty cases, and I don't like disappointing the Boss.”

“Yes, yes, I triple checked. If you doubt my ability to count to fifty without fucking up, then feel free to count yourself.”

Octavia hummed quietly, looking over the contents of the truck. Fifty cases of high contraband in the form of cider; bootlegged liquor that would fetch a pretty penny at any one of the several speakeasies run by the Pie Crime Family. Many residents of Equestria thought that the prohibition of alcohol killed businesses. Octavia liked to think that it created them.

“It appears you actually can count without my supervision,” said Octavia, pulling down on the brim of her hat. “You might prove yourself useful for more than just heavy lifting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” huffed the Doctor. “Where to now?”

“Drops, Minuette, and Hearts are all expecting five,” said Octavia. “Fifteen go to me. The other twenty go to storage on the west side.”

“Hot damn.” The Doctor pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket. He took out one and stuck it in his mouth. “That's a lot of booze for one little lady. Makes me wonder when I'll get my own supply to push. You got a light?”

Octavia reached into her coat pocket and pulled out both a carton of her own and a lighter. She tossed the lighter to her partner, lighting her own cigarette when he returned it.

“I like to think I've earned the extra business,” said Octavia. She checked her watch. “We really should hurry. I'm almost behind schedule.”

“You and your schedules. What else does the Boss have us doing today?”

“The Boss doesn’t have us doing anything. You can go home,” said Octavia. “I’ve got to see a whore about some money.”

“How much?”

“More than she’s worth, I’m sure.” Octavia tossed her cigarette to the floor, stamping it out beneath her shoe.

“Heh. Just don’t go easy on her, okay?” said the Doctor. Octavia gave him a glare. “What? I’m just saying, you know, don’t pull any punches or anything.”

“I wasn’t aware I was known for going easy on people who owe me,” said Octavia flatly. “Unless you’re trying to say I’m getting soft.”

“Look, Mel, all I’m saying is that everybody’s got a weakness,” said the Doctor, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “And your weakness for the female form has been well-documented.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary,” said Octavia. “I tend to prefer my women with a level of sophistication that the average prostitute simply doesn't possess.” She checked her watch again, annoyed that she was still standing there. She needed to get moving. “Come on, Doctor. Smoke your fag so we can go.”

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” said the Doctor, tossing his cigarette down. “Drop me off at my place?”

“You’re lucky I’m headed to the West side,” said Octavia. “In the truck, mate.”

The two piled in, and Octavia took off. The streets of Manehattan were a good reflection of the city itself; dark and grimy and rough around the edges. The buildings that lined the street were cold, mechanical, without an ounce of warmth or love. The dull red of brick bled into the grey concrete, creating an overall dreary aura of desperation across the city. In that manner, Manehattan reminded Octavia of home.

“So… That wasn't just me being funny, Mel,” said the Doctor. “What's the deal with the cider? When do I get my crates?”

“Careful, Doc. Greed is dangerous in this business,” said Octavia. “Be happy with what you've got. You'll get your cider in due time. It’s all about paying your dues.”

“I know, I'm just saying… If you talked to Maud, maybe you could speed up the process?”

“The only thing that would speed up is a bullet into my brain,” snorted Octavia. “Enjoy your drug running and protection now, because this bootlegging racket is a huge pain in the ass.”

“But the pay…” complained the Doctor. “I'm barely scraping by here, meanwhile, you and Drops and them have enough to buy a goddamn palace!”

“Hey, watch the language,” said Octavia. She pointed to her rear-view mirror, from which a small cross was hanging.

“Holy… You never struck me as the religious type.”

“Yeah, well… I wasn't always. I'm still not, really. Just trying my best.” She scratched at her left arm, glancing up at her cross. “It's not easy.”

“Yeah, no shit. How can you be down with the man upstairs if we're going around sticking up hookers for money?” asked the Doctor. “Aren't you afraid?”

“What do I have to be afraid of?”

“Don't you people believe in bad people getting tortured for eternity or something? Fire and brimstone?”

“We also believe in repentance and atonement. My sins don't make me any less qualified for forgiveness than anyone else.”Octavia turned onto the Doctor’s street. “And that, my friend, marks the end of our first and last discussion we have about it. I don't have to explain myself to you.”

“Sorry, Mel. Didn't mean to step on your toes.”

It went silent for the last few minutes of the ride. When they arrived, the Doctor hopped out of the truck, wishing his partner luck on her next job. Octavia only smirked, knowing that she most assuredly didn’t need any luck.

Octavia drove off, headed to the storage house where she stowed her cider. She'd deliver to her associates later. For now, she needed to see her next client.

---

Octavia saw her clear as day from across the coffee shop, sequestered away in the corner of the shop. Her client was dressed wholesomely in a blue blouse and lengthy black skirt, as if trying to escape what she really was. She had her back to Octavia, so that all Octavia could see was her electric blue hair.

“Ah, good, you're on time,” said Octavia. Her client never turned, and Octavia had to wait until she was seated to see her face. She was pale, with reddish eyes and a bored look on her face.

“Hey,” she said flatly.

“Vinyl Scratch. Now, I don't believe in beating around the bush,” said Octavia, removing her hat and setting it onto the table. “So, let's get down to brass tacks. Three months ago, I lent you $40,000 under the agreement that you would pay me back with interest of 15% monthly. Judging by your career path, I'm going to assume you weren't the best in maths, so allow me to crunch those numbers for you; that's the 40K I gave you, plus an extra 6 a month, totalling at 58K. You owe me $58,000 dollars. And, if you can't give it to me, I'm going to have to start collecting collateral. I don't think you'll like that, Ms. Scratch. “

“You done?” asked Vinyl. She reached beneath the table and returned with a briefcase, which she sat on the table. She flipped it open and turned it to Octavia.

Stacks and stacks of bills, bundles of $100s. Octavia’s jaw went slack, her eyebrow raised at her client.

“That's $60,000 right there,” said Vinyl. “Go ahead and keep the two grand, as a show of respect for you and your people.”

Octavia grabbed a stack of bills, flipping through them quickly. She could spot a counterfeit from a mile away, and these bills seemed genuine. But they couldn't be. It was impossible.

“How?” asked Octavia. “How does a hooker get $60,000 in three months?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. Where did you get this?”

“By doing what I do best,” said Vinyl.

“Bullshit. I know what you do for a living, and it’s not worth 60 large,” said Octavia. “So I ask you again: Where did you get it?”

“Heh. This might be my day job, but it's not what I do best. I listen. You'd be surprised by how much someone will tell you when they think you're not listening.”

“You’re good at listening. And that one trait is what allowed you to earn triple your wages?”

“That’s right.”

“Listen to me, Scratch, are you listening?” Octavia leaned forward, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “Listen good, because what I say may just save your life. I think that you stole this money. I think you stole this money from my family. That would make me very unhappy. And I promise you this, my friend, I will find out where you got this money. It is not a matter of ‘if’, rather, of ‘when’. If I don’t like your method of procuring this money, you will hear from me, and it will be the last thing you ever hear.”

“Look, I didn’t—”

“I won’t just kill you. I’ll kill all your little hooker friends. Your parents. Your brothers and your sisters. Your entire family. Anyone you’ve ever shown any interest in. They will all die, their bodies chucked into the ocean, never to be found again.” Octavia grabbed her hat and returned it to her head. “Then, you will join them. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Scratch?”

Vinyl stared at Octavia, not wanting to let on that she was afraid. Octavia saw through it easily. She was shaking in her boots.

“Crystal,” said Vinyl.

“Very good. I’ll be in touch, Ms. Scratch,” said Octavia, grabbing the briefcase. “If there’s something you’d like to tell me about this money, now would be the time to do it.”

Octavia could almost see the gears turn in Vinyl’s head. She silently begged her client to just come clean and tell the truth. Despite her big talk, Octavia had no desire to kill anybody that day, especially not over some money. Still, she couldn’t just let this woman get away with stealing from the Pies. That would cause issues down the road. So Octavia begged and prayed that Vinyl saw sense.

“Don’t spend that all in one place,” said Vinyl, leaning back calmly. Octavia shook her head, but said nothing more. She tipped her hat to her client, then left the cafe richer than she had entered.

---

Octavia watched Vinyl as she strolled down the street, heading from her last client to home. Spying on Vinyl had become the norm for Octavia over the past month. She watched her go about work, watched her party with her friends, watched her spend her nights at her apartment on the Lower East Side. Strangely, Octavia never saw Vinyl do anything suspicious. Nothing to hint at where she had acquired the money.

Octavia puffed on her cigarette, watching her target enter her apartment building. She sighed, massaging her right arm gingerly. The doctors had told her that the pain would never really go away, just wax and wane. Octavia didn’t normally mind. If nothing else, it was a reminder not to act as rashly as she had in the past.

“You always stalk hookers in your free time?”

Octavia, so wrapped up in thought, didn’t notice her partner approach her. The Doctor beckoned for Octavia to follow him, and the two set off down the streets of Manehattan. The Doctor looked a bit nervous, but managed to refrain from falling apart.

“What do you want?” asked Octavia. “I was sort of in the middle of something.”

“Well, now you’re in the middle of something else,” said the Doctor. “Maud wants you.”

“Since when did you deliver messages for Maud?”

“Since today. Hurry up, she said it was urgent. Something about cider and our earnings. She said the numbers don’t work.”

Octavia bit her lip, shaking her head. She thought she knew precisely why the numbers didn’t work, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Not until she spoke to Maud, at least. Octavia dropped her cigarette and stamped it out, then picked up her pace.

“Well, let’s see what the Boss wants,” said Octavia.

Comments

[chillbook1]

8035647 To be honest, I just felt it'd be easier to work with fingers and hands instead of hooves. Plus, things like magic and flight would ruin a story like this, I think.

I hope you enjoy nevertheless.

[NotanImportantPony]

Ya know, I like ya kid, ya gots style. Ya got guts an' not many a' them boys here can do what you do. Imma letcha off easy now, ya hear? An' as a... show of my friendliness take a like an' a fav, I'll be trackin' ya ta make sure you don't do anythin' stupid. Don't make me regret this, got it?

[OConnerGT-R]

But they couldn't be. It was impossible.

Maybe she hired the Mythos crew? No, but seriously, I'm wondering where Vinyl gets that kind of cash in six months especially with what she does.

“Well, let’s see what the Boss wants,” said Octavia.

I really can't wait to see what happens next. I'm already enjoying this story a lot!

[chillbook1]

8035762 It's a shame that I'd never be able to do a crossover of the two, because seeing how Medusa would deal with Octavia is something that interests me greatly.

Glad you're enjoying it so far, and I hope you continue for the duration of the story.

[OConnerGT-R]

8035782

It's a bit disappointing that you can't do that as it would certainly be a very interesting interaction. This is just a thought, but you could always add in a character that has similar traits to that of Medusa? At least then you could have that encounter between Octavia and a heist crew. It'd be interesting to see how she handles them for the boss.

Don't worry, you've haven't disappointed yet, I'm sure it'll be another slam dunk!

[Nonchalant]

Pretty sure Vinyl works with the cops.

Single minor issue: I don't know why but I prefer writing my numbers out rather than using than the actual digits. Any particular reason you just plunked a 6 in there? To me, smaller numbers (usually under a hundred ) just make the writing look a bit unclean, or weird. I dunno. Just my two cents.

[chillbook1]

8037303 The reason I used digits is because I personally think "60,000" is more visually appealing than "sixty thousand". And, once I used digits once, I had to use digits throughout, or it would annoy the hell out of me.

Interesting theory. Vinyl working with the cops makes a lot of sense. I guess we'll just have to see.

[Nonchalant]

8037331 I completely agree that larger figures are better represented by digits. I see your point there. I just got thrown off by the admittedly wimpier 6.

Keep on rocking.

[Cinder Vel]

So far so good. We'v got our limey Octy, obegging to be killed Doc (of course the twist is that he survives the story) and wiseass DJ that is involved in something she is going to regret and I ain't talking bout her spreading habits.

The only thing that slightly bugged me was Octy confronting V since it seemed quick to me but that could be because it was almost pure dialog. Also extremely minor but wish for irony sake Octy told the Doc. "Hey, watch your bloody language".

Way to early for any predictions but I am looking forward to see Pies. They will probably make readers very nervous. At least Limestone will be herself.

Oh and to people that do not like the human aspect of the story. Just do what I do and still picture them as ponies. They have done stranger things with hooves in show. Besides easier for author to show the story to non brony audience this way.