The F-Team

by Silver-Spirits-and-Ales

A miserable end to a miserable pony.

The following day, around twelve o'clock.

Twilight, Fluttershy, Rarity, AppleJack, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were walking down a street. They stopped at a corner, next to a unicorn stallion who was playing the trumpet. Rarity placed a gem in the stallion's case, and whispered in his ear. The musician winked at Rarity, and started playing My Favorite Things.

It was as if the sound of the musician's trumpet seemed to create an entire zone of positivity all around it. This deluge of notes, so melancholic yet so nice to the ear, such a bittersweet melody that it made ponies all around shed tears of joy and smile some rare smiles.

Twilight and her friends stayed and listened to the melody until the song's end, when the stallion lifted his cap, and bowed his head towards Rarity.

"Oowee, if it ain't my Shawty, miss Rarity!" said the Jazzpony, in an impressively bass voice. He had a dark-brown coat, and an almost nonexistent mane, which was black. His neck was extremely beefy, just as the rest of his body. "How long's it been, huh?" He smiled, as Rarity did the same.

"Ladies, may I present my good friend Strongarms Satchelmouth, my rising star!" said Rarity.

The six fillies all smiled at the stallion and took turns shaking his hoof.

"Rarrers and I go way back," narrated Strongarms. "I remember meetin' her on Bridleway. I was doin' mah thing, ya dig? Playin' mah songs and livin' mah life. And, ya know Bridleway, nopony gives you the time of day if you haven't at least been on stage or somethin'. And there comes Lady Rarity, who stops to listen to mah song, and gives me a big fat gem cuz' I was playin' good. She went on her way, and two minutes later, I see dem business pony folks hoofin' it over to me an' givin' me contracts to sign for shows all over Bridleway. Them told me that Rarrers'd put in a word for me."

"So if you're all popular and all, why are you playing in the street?" asked Rainbow Dash, in such a way that Twilight rolled her eyes in embarrassment.

To Twilight's surprise, however, Strongarms chuckled, and said "Well, after weeks of singin' and playin' in them crowded theaters every night, I had a hankerin' to play outside again, ya dig? Get some of that fresh air."

"I went to see him play, once," said Rarity, proudly. "I can assure you, it was excellent."

"You should come back see me sometime, Rarrers!" chuckled Strongarms. "It'll always be a free seat and unlimited cider for you and your friends."

"It would be our pleasure," said AppleJack.

"Tell me, Strongarms," said Rarity. "I don't mean to pry, but you do play on this street corner all day, don't you?" she asked.

"That's it," answered the stallion. "Why d'you ask?"

"Well, you see, we were summoned here to solve a friendship problem," interjected Twilight. "You wouldn't happen to know anypony who has one?"

The musician frowned. "Not that I know of," answered Strongarms. "Well, there is one cat I can think of who can fit the bill, but I ain't so sure..."

"By all means, tell us," said Twilight.

"Nah, I don't think so. Forgive me, princess." he tipped his hat towards Twilight. "I do like to trail off once in a while."

"Please, Strongarms," pleaded Twilight. "This is important."

Rainbow Dash was waiting for the musician's answer with baited breath. "What's it gonna be this time?" she thought. "Monsters? Changelings? An evil queen?"

"Alright," said Strongarms, somewhat reluctantly. "There's a cat who lives in that building there." Fluttershy beamed at the mention of the word 'cat', but Strongarms had obviously guessed what she was thinking of, and said "Not that type of cat," before continuing his narrative. "So there's this cat, called Silver Spirit, ya dig? He's a bit of a sad, lonely cat. He tried getting into music, once, but... well I'll just say that music didn't like him very much, see? Anyway, every night, I see him comin' home to his apartment, sad and miserable. He's one of them cats, a sad, lonely one. And, ya know, I see him on the roof of his building, sometimes. One hoof on the ledge, ready to go over the top, ya dig?"

"I see," said Twilight, listening intently.

"So I dunno if it qualifies as one of y'all's friendship problems, but ya know, I'm glad to help if ya-"

"A-twitch-a-twitch! A twitch-a-twitch!" interjected Pinkie Pie.

"Pinkie!" shouted Twilight to her friend. "Don't interrupt, Strongarms was..." But then, the Princess realized that Pinkie's tail was twitching.

Everypony here (with the exception of Strongarms) knew what that meant. The six friends all looked up at the midday sky. Rainbow Dash eagerly scanned the horizon. Maybe an evil sovereign or a monster was about to fall from an invisible cloud.

"Darling, I don't think that anything' about to-" started Rarity. But whatever she was about to say, she was cut off by Fluttershy, who let out a gasp. Rainbow Dash turned around, saw what Fluttershy was gasping at, and the two pegasi shot straight up.

---

Last evening

"Well, look what rolled in!" shouted a cream-coloured unicorn with a waistcoat and pince-museau on his muzzle, as Silver walked into the pub. The two other similarly-dressed ponies, a chestnut unicorn stallion and a light-gray pegasus stallion also looked up from their books, and saw the dull silver pony enter.

"Hi, guys," said Silver, sitting down at the table with his erstwhile friends and lifting his fedora to greet them. "Dexter Hoof, Moonstone, Sky Chaser."

"We were beginning to think you weren't going to show up," said the cream unicorn. "How've you been?"

"The less said, the better," retorted Silver. "What about you guys?"

"Quite alright, thanks," said Dexter, lifting the pince-nez off his face and stuffing them into his waistcoat.

"I'm fine," said Moonstone, the chestnut unicorn.

"Alright," said Sky Chaser.

"Good evenin', gents," said the waiter, coming over to the four stallions' table. "What'll it be?"

"A bottle of Dom Percheron '92 and four glasses, please," asked Dexter Hoof.

"You gentlecolts celebrating something?" asked the waiter.

"Yes!" answered Dexter, Moonstone, and Sky Chaser in unison.

"Three glasses for them," corrected Silver. "A bottle of Vodka'll be fine for me. Stalliongrad, if you have it."

"Comin' right up," said the bartender, before returning behind the counter.

"Are we celebrating?" asked Silver. He hadn't been warned about any sort of celebration.

"Yup!" said Dexter Hoof, in a smug tone. "I... wait for it," he took a deep breath. "... have just been hired by the Canterlot Mail!" In the tone he was using, he could very well have been announcing his promotion to supreme dictator of Equestria.

"Good for you," said Silver Spirit, in a nonplussed tone.

He didn't read the Mail, and there was a very good reason for that. The paper was elitist and generally pandered to the wealthy unicorns, and the subscription alone would have cost Silver at least an eighth of his wages. An eighth that could instead be spent on some good cider. Plus, it was so conservative that even Whinnston Chestnut himself would neigh when reading it. All in all, not really Silver's cup of tea. Or rather, not his glass of cider.

After a few minutes, the waiter came back, with their drinks. He placed silver's bottle of vodka in front of him, and then proceeded to open the bottle of Percheron, and poured the fizzy and expensive wine into the glasses. As he did so, everypony looked around. Seeing somepony order a bottle of Percheron was pretty rare, especially in this sort of establishment. Silver Spirit, who knew Dexter Hoof pretty well, knew that the unicorn was just trying to rub his success and wealth into everypony's faces. He'd always been a show-off.

Silver poured himself a shot of Stalliongrad Vodka, raised his glass, and recited a toast that his father always used to say. "May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be with Celestia half an hour before Nightmare Moon knows you’re asleep." He drank down the glass in one gulp.

As if it wasn't already apparent enough, the way that Silver had downed a glass of cheap liquor just after reciting an old Griffish toast, while his three friends were sipping Dom Percheron was a clear sign that Silver was almost from a different world than that of his three friends.

"So, erm..." said Silver Spirit. "Why d'you invite me?" he asked.

"Well," said Dexter Hoof. "Now that I've been hired and that the Mail has given me a small loan to get started, I've bought an office."

"And?" asked Silver.

"So. I'd like you all to work for me," explained Silver. "Moonstone has already agreed to lend his knowledge of politics and sociology to my articles, and Cloud Chaser's already agreed to be my secretary. All I need is a typist."

"I see," said Silver, pouring himself another glass. "And that would be me?"

"Yes."

Silver Spirit chuckled. "Funny how you only talk to me when you need something."

Cloud Chaser gave Silver a meaningful look. Cloud Chaser was one of Silver's oldest friends, who had introduced him to Dexter Hoof, who had put in a word for Silver at Serene Quill's office. And judging by the look that Dexter gave Silver (when there was a look to be given) every time they met, he had reluctantly put that word in. But Cloud Chaser, who was oblivious to that, thought that Silver owed that much to Dexter.

"Is that a no?" asked the cream unicorn. "Do you really want to continue being underpaid by the witch you work for?"

And all of a sudden, it became clear that Dexter wasn't trying to recruit Silver out of the kindness of his heart. Typists were somewhat rare to come by, which was understandable, given the nature of the job, and Serene didn't know how to use a typewriter. Dexter was trying to weaken his old boss's position in the world of journalism.

"I'm offering to pay you twice as much as she does."

"No," retorted Silver, flatly.

"Four times?"

"No."

"For Celestia's sake, Silver! Just take the money already!" urged Moonstone.

That sort of annoyance that could be seen in Moonstone's eyes at that very moment was the sort of annoyance that made Silver want to continue irritating him. Yes, after all, Silver continually lived in a sphere of continuous depression and frustration, he could be forgiven for messing around with other ponies now and then. Especially if said pony wasn't exactly pleasant to begin with.

"You disgust me, Dexter Hoof." Silver took a swig from the bottle, and placed it back down on the table. "You were in somepony's employ for what, three years? Somepony who gave you a fair salary, treated you like a friend, and whose talent you probably leeched off of to get your shoddy office and your position of 'head politics lunatic' at the 'Canterlot Brain Injury Mail? Did you even write a resignation letter? Of course you did, cuz' that's the law. But did you let her know that you were grateful for everything she's done for you? Of course you didn't, because you have no gratitude. And I'm sure you dumped your letter at the bottom of her work pile, just so she doesn't discover it until she's properly wasted her time looking for you! You didn't even tell her to her face, you- you two-faced coward!" He was spitting specks of vodka and spittle all over Dexter, who didn't seem to really appreciate the shower. "And the worse part of it is that you try and drag me into your foul scheme. I don't want a part in it!"

In his fury, Silver hadn't noticed that every head in the pub had turned towards him. And as he finished his monologue, he became aware of the dead silence that had fallen on the room. he decided he'd better leave before he got carried away. He left a few bits on the table, and was about to add a few more as a tip, but he thought that for once, maybe Dexter or Moonstone could tip the barpony. Once that was done, Silver grabbed his half-empty bottle of vodka, stood up.

"If you're that useless, Silver," said Dexter Hoof in a barely audible voice, prompting the Earth Pony to stop. "Maybe you should die. Know what I mean? You can't write, which is probably why no-one wants to publish your stupid book. You can't act, and that's why you didn't land the part at Bridleway. The only thing you are good at is getting drunk. You're a nuisance, Silver. You only know how to be loyal to someone who isn't even loyal to you. You're a sad clown, Silver, and it looks like you can't even amuse anypony now. Bring it all to an end. For both our sakes."

---

"So, this is my note. That's what I'm supposed to do, aren't I? Leave a note.
I don't really know what to say. Maybe I'll just say that all of this is my fault. No-one's to blame. Except me. So, to all of my friends, all of my family, and all those who care, I'm sorry. I just think it'll be better if I'm gone.
Mum, Dad, I'm sorry I never did want to take over the family business. Maybe I'd have been happier if I had. Really, I'm sorry. If it's of any consolation, of all the gin and whisky I've ever tasted, yours were by far the best. So, here's my last toast. To the Spirit family distillery and brewery.
Landlord, you'll find the month's rent on the table. I hope all of this doesn't bring the value of this place down. It wasn't very high to begin with, so here's hoping it all brings you some publicity. A pony can dream.
Serene Quill. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.
CrackerJack, get yourself some better friends. You deserve better than me. Don't be sad, CJ.
All of my belongings, which isn't saying much, obviously go to my family. My work goes to the poor sod who wants to publish it, and the half-empty (most likely empty) bottle on the table goes to you, pony who finds this.

All the best to everyone. Live a good life.

Silver Spirit."

Silver carefully extracted the note from his typewriter, signed it using a pen, folded it, and placed it in an envelope. Then, he finished his aforementioned bottle of cider, and picked up a second envelope, which was sitting on the table.

Silver spent his last bits on a coach to his boss's office. He entered, went upstairs, and arrived in front of the oak door with a golden plaque on it that read "Dame Serene Quill, GCO. Journalist."

Silver took a deep breath, lifted his hat, and entered. He went over to the door at the back of the room, which led to the office proper, and entered.

"You're late, Silver," said Serene Quill, who was sitting behind a large stack of paper.

"Good. You have an excuse to fire me." Silver approached the desk, and waited in front of it, expectantly.

"Don't be silly," scoffed the journalist.

"I'm serious."

Serene's smile faded. "What?"

"If you don't want to fire me, here's my letter. I'm resigning." He placed the letter on the desk.

Serene looked bewildered. "But I- What do you- Why?"

"It's for the best, boss," said Silver. "I can tell you that."

"But I need you, Silver!" Serene pleaded. "Do you want a raise? Because I can do that. Please, Silver, please!"

Silver would have chuckled, if he could remember how. "If only it were that simple, boss. I just... I just can't continue working. It's... let's just say it's... clinical."

"Silver, I-"

Silver shushed his boss, as if he was talking to a crying foal. "I'm sorry."

As he was about to make for the door, the earth pony remembered something. He lifted the stack of paper, and found what he was looking for. From under the pile, he found a second letter.

"And here's Dexter Hoof's resignation."

And without any further ado, the stallion left.

---

As it did at every middle of the day, the sun was shining down upon Manehattan. From the top of the building, Silver Spirit scanned the street for the very last time. He saw the trumpeter, who had just finished playing his song, and was now talking to a group of fillies. Tourists, most likely, if their rather rustic style was anything to go by. Definitely not city ponies, although the pearly white one did have the talk. But did she walk the walk? A purple mare of the group almost caught Silver's eye, because he'd had the fleeting impression that she had both a pair of wings and a horn. But he was too caught up in his own business to care. The papercolt was nowhere to be seen, because he usually worked after school hours.

"Alright, then," said Silver to himself. He placed the note on the floor, and placed his front hooves at the edge of the building. He closed his eyes, and drank in the atmosphere, one last time.

At that moment, Silver almost felt happy. He was about to be free. Free from pain. Free from suffering. Free from his problems. Free from the fake smiles and fake friends that always pushed him into the ground. Free at last.

Silver took a small step back, and without further hesitation, he threw himself off the building.

Eyes closed, wind brushing against his whole body, he could almost feel himself flying. He liked the sensation.

But as he fell to the ground, he suddenly felt the wind freeze in place. It was as if he wasn't falling anymore.

Was he dead?

Comments

[Antiquarian]

Solid chapter on the whole. I'm glad that Serene Quill is a fair boss, I appreciated the Winston Churchill reference, and it was satisfying to see Silver chew the Dexter out. One quick edit:

"So. I'd like you all to work for me," explained Silver. "Moonstone has already agreed to lend his knowledge of politics and sociology to my articles, and Cloud Chaser's already agreed to be my secretary. All I need is a typist."

Shouldn't that be Dexter instead of Silver?