• Published 19th May 2017
  • 817 Views, 33 Comments

GBOYHVerse—Dented Iron - Dragonborne Fox



With Monarch Inc. dispensed with, and all of its hassles tidied up, life returns to some semblance of normal. All's well that ends well, right? Not so for one business tycoon by the name of Iron Hoof... not at all. Far from it, in fact...

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Chapter III- Irregular Paper

The train ground to a halt at the station with a screeching of the wheels followed by an eerie, ear-piercing whistle. The whistle echoed incessantly for a moment, only to give way to a brief silence heralded by the pumps of the engine ceasing with one last push. Silence held for a moment, but then the doors of the train slid open and out stumbled the assorted menagerie who had reached their stop. Amongst them was Iron Hoof, face passive but stoic as he took a moment to scan his surroundings.

As was usual for the capital-slash-tourist-attraction, Canterlot was already in full swing. The hustle and bustle didn't match that of Manehattan; in fact, it was far more refined and dignified than that due to the density of rich and noble ponies here, but there was a hustle and bustle nonetheless thanks to the disembarking crowd. Clamor rang as the crowd split upon various streets, as distracted as mice tempted with cheese and as loud as a protesting rabble.

Iron Hoof inhaled deeply, and only once. With a drawn out exhale, he set out onto those same streets himself, refusing to mingle with the fracturing crowd as they went to various attractions as commoners were wont to do. Unlike them, he had purpose. Unlike them, he already had a destination in mind. Hoofstep by hoofstep, he'd get there—and as much as he was loathe to admit it, some part of him was hoping things would turn out well.

Paying heed to the road, the other ponies in it, and of course the occasional royal guard stationed here and there, he had little room and time to let his mind wander. A tiny part of him was concocting up vengeful ideas upon which to strike whatever had slighted his son—his heir of a business empire. Parlay with them and the crowd, he did not—answers took precedence over all else, and so help him he'd get those answers one way or another.

Unfortunately, trouble reared its head when he parted from the main rabble and found himself meandering down a less-busy sidestreet. He ran into a papercolt standing crudely on his hinds, the morning edition in his flailing front hooves and a dozen tightly-tied stacks more or less next to him. "Extra! Extra!" the papercolt howled. "Get the latest news in business and politics!"

Iron Hoof, frowning, trotted to the papercolt. "The latest news?" he parroted, drawing the attention onto him in the form of a one-pony audience. "Strange he'd prattle on about such news here instead of one of the more busier streets," he noted in the back of his mind.

"Yeah; seems nopony's interested, though…" the papercolt said, ears turning back as the slightest hint of dejection flickered in his eyes. "Tell ya what, I'll give you the extra for free since nopony else wants it."

Iron Hoof, bemused at this, could only nod. He took the paper and put it across his back. "I'll have to indulge it later; I've places to be. Thank you for your time," he said.

"Don't mention it," the papercolt replied, watching as Iron Hoof trotted out of the sidestreet and onto a main road.

Iron Hoof trotted on, though as he wandered, he found himself pondering… why hadn't that paper sold, if it was the latest in business and politics? Had the papercolt lied to him, just to give out one scrap of folded paper? A niggling feeling dug into his senses, itching and writhing and refusing to go away no matter how far he went.

And the more it lingered, the more it started to irritate him. But he still trotted on; the niggling feeling could be answered to later, when time was more of a convenient commodity.

~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~-—-~

Within Canterlot's dungeons, ill-lit with flickering torchlight, sat some of the condemned within their cells. Behind wooden doors sporting thin, ill-spaced bars with only enough room to peek out of, some of the condemned were chatting amiably. Amongst the pairs of eyes that decided to look out into the hall with the armed guards were was a particular prisoner.

"So, Heavy Lock, what're you in here for?" said particular asked.

"Well Helping Hoof… I'm here for breaking and entering and petty thievery. You?" Heavy Lock responded, his voice less than lukewarm.

"Helping in illegal activities on a business front… and falsifying my cutie mark," Helping Hoof said.

An awkward silence held in the dungeons. "Falsifying… are you for real?" Heavy Lock asked, rather incredulously. It was difficult to gauge which cell he was in, let alone his expression… but Helping surmised he was rather shocked.

"Yes. I've only earned my cutie mark for real yesterday," Helping answered with a heavy sigh. "Let's just say I couldn't earn it sooner if I tried."

"... why?" Heavy Lock asked. Another weary sigh answered him.

"Extenuating circumstances, extremely personal," Helping replied, a small amount of venom in his voice.

"But isn't falsifying your cutie mark a minor offense?" Heavy Lock tried.

"Only if you were a blank flank like me—neck-deep in trouble, whilst a young adult as it were," Helping replied, a mite sarcastically. Heavy could almost hear the nostalgic smile in his voice as he added, "Surprised I got a cute-ceañera yesterday."

"... so that's why there was cake?" Heavy Lock asked, surprised.

"Mhm," Helping hummed, nodding even though he was sure Heavy Lock couldn't see him doing it. "Oh, if Father found me now…"

"Would he like it?" Heavy Lock asked. "I mean, I've not heard of a lot of ponies being blank flanks after graduating school."

The dungeon chilled a little as the answer came, "No. He would not." Helping's mood audibly dropped as he added, "I'm almost dreading leaving the dungeons because of him."

Heavy Lock guessed after a moment had passed in silence, "... bad blood?"

"Like you would not believe," Helping answered, stomping a hoof. The noise echoed for a moment before fading. "Here… here is strict, but nice. Father—" Heavy Lock winced at the growing venom spat with the word, "—was more strict and less nice than Checker Monarch." A pair of eyes retracted from the bars of the door, followed by an audible whump as somepony threw himself on the bed of his cell. "I could make thirteen different lists of what he had me do growing up, and none of them are pleasant."

Another silence hung. This time, Heavy Lock paused, trying to figure out what to say. A nearby guard beat him to the punch, though. "We'll be with you in case any unexpected visits happen before then. We'll keep your dad in line, don't worry too much."

An exasperated chuckle left a cell before Helping weakly said, "Thank you…"

"Don't mention it," the guard replied, unaware of the coming storm that was making its way to the palace.

Comments ( 9 )

Well, Heavy Lock seems like a nice guy for a criminal.

8176466
I never said I hated it. I just think it's overrated, and I honestly can't see why it's so popular. To me, it was just OK. I have read much better stories then Trixie's Gettin' Back On Her Hooves. Like Ambition, Inner Glory, and Kamen Rider Unicorn. Of course this is just my opinion, and I don't really regret reading it, which is more than I can say for Diaries of a Madman and The Wheel and the Butterfly A Dan X Pinkie Pie Saga.

Very nice read so far, I love the irony of how the prison is better than life under Iron Hoof’s hoof. Looking forward to what the next chapters might bring!

9832238 The irony is very ironic :rainbowlaugh:

9833482 Meanwhile, Leo's going deeper :D

9834623
I’m not sure who Leo is, to be honest :twilightsheepish:

D48

This looks like it could be very interesting, although at this point I doubt it will ever be completed. Still, it was worth reading and the next chapter should be great even if nothing else comes out after that.

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