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1 - Broken Down in Sunnytown5,778 words
2 - Lessons Learned8,180 words
3 - A Change in Fortune8,344 words
4 - The Secret of Bluebeard11,443 words
5 - Dogs of War8,392 words
6 - Operation: Watership Down12,538 words
7 - The Things I Love10,632 words
8 - The Last Secrets9,303 words
Epilogue - Promised Salvation7,458 words

1 - Broken Down in Sunnytown

It was days like this when Sable Loam wondered if it was worth it. As he pulled into the parking lot of the Equestria County Alternative High School for At-Risk Students with his car engine starting to smoke, he briefly mused if his other job paid enough to get it fixed. He was probably going to have to ask about that, and that rankled him. After all, it meant talking to a teenager about pay, something he hadn’t done since he was a teenager himself.

Okay, Sunset’s not really a teenager and besides she has enough money to bury the County in cash, but still…. He mentally groaned as he shoved that idea out of his head. Maybe it was just how he was brought up, but he was never really one to take handouts, even when needed or deserved. Or, for that matter, technically not really a handout.

He got out of his car, pausing only to pop the hood and get a better look at the white smoke curling away from the engine. As he did, Airblast, one of his colleagues, pulled up in the spot next to him. Like just about every faculty member at The Blanks (a fitting nickname for a school styled more like a prison), Airblast had been Special Forces—AFSOC, in his case—and was just as much a disciplinarian as he was a history teacher at this “vaunted” institution.

“That does not look good,” Airblast commented as he wandered over to look at the engine himself.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sable agreed as he looked over the incomprehensible object sitting underneath the car’s hood. “I hope it’s not going to be an expensive fix, but my gut instinct says it’s going to be.”

“Well, I can tell you that you don’t want your car fixed here in Sunnytown, that’s for sure,” Airblast cautioned. “The mechanics in town are all rip-off artists. Have Deckplate tell you about the ‘minor’ engine tune-up that magically turned out to be a $1500 catalytic converter replacement. Worse, he had a brand-new Dodge, so nothing should’ve been wrong at all.”

“Joy,” Sable drawled.

Airblast shrugged. “You’re probably better off having your car towed to your regular guy.”

“I don’t have a regular guy yet. Haven’t had this happen to my car before.” He closed the hood and groaned. “Guess I’ll have to call my girlfriend and see where she gets hers fixed.”

“Good idea. Oh, also, whatever you do, don’t let Tirespin know your car needs fixing.”

“Tirespin?”

“Yeah. Sophomore here, mechanically inclined—she’s the one that spends all her spare time in the shop classroom, so she actually knows how to fix cars. Problem is, she likes to fix other things as well.”

Sable gave Airblast a fried look as they walked towards the main building. “Do I want to know?”

“Let’s just say there’s at least one teacher who would still have his job if he hadn’t taken her up on her offer. On the bright side,” Airblast noted, “Tires is trying to turn her life around, if for no other reason than her daughter’s sake.”

Sable found himself eating lunch at his desk in his Home Ec classroom, something he’d been doing more frequently of late. He had an important phone call to make, and although Sombra knew about (and approved of) his relationship with Celestia, Sable didn’t exactly want to advertise that he was dating a former principal turned superintendent. While it probably didn’t make much of a difference, he had found out that image tended to matter a lot at The Blanks.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Celestia told him, “but I usually just take my car down to the dealership when I need it looked at. I’d recommend them, but you don’t have a Hyundai.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” he sighed.

“Maybe you can ask Sunset to fix it? I’m sure she knows a magic spell or two.”

“I’d prefer not. I want things to remain normal enough without having to go to the magical teenybopper to get a wish fix.”

Celestia giggled. “Suit yourself. Anyway, I’ll ask around. Do you need me to pick you up after work?”

“I hope not, but I’ll let you know if that’s the case. I’ll call you later, love. Bye.” Bummed, he hung up the phone just as he heard familiar footsteps down the hall.

“Hey, I heard about your car, man,” Sombra said as he poked his head in. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks, but I have no idea what to do about it. And I’ve already been bombarded with local horror stories about mechanics from Airblast, Deckplate and Olive Drab. Apparently my best choice is to miraculously never have the car ever break down.”

Sombra laughed. “That’s because those three don’t know about the best guy in town.”

That caught Sable’s attention. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I know a local guy who can do it, no sweat. Decent prices, always available, and completely trustworthy. I’ve had him work on my Toyota and my wife’s VW. And you know how Chrys gets when it comes to her wheels.”

Sable remembered the time when he was last over at their place and Sombra’s wife Chrysoberyl blew a fuse because she had a slight scratch under her bumper from parking too close to a cement divider. “That good, huh?”

“Yeah, the best.”

“You know how to get a hold of this guy?”

Sombra nodded. “Yeah, I’ll make a call during lunch for you. If he’s clear, he should be here by the afternoon or so.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, no, trust me, you’re doing me a favor by going with this guy. As good as he is, he’s… unlucky.” Then Sombra frowned ever so slightly. “Something tells me he needs the business.”

As classes wound down for the day, Sable leaned against his Jeep out in the quickly emptying parking lot, watching the afternoon sun fall. Sure enough, the mechanic Sombra inquired about was free for the afternoon and said he’d be over after classes were finished. And at the moment, aside from waiting, all Sable had to do was make sure that Tirespin would go away.

“Look, Mr. Loam, I can fix your car, okay? No charge!” the teen insisted.

Sable raised a suspicious eyebrow at the dark-skinned teen with smokey black hair tinged with red at the tips. She wasn’t in any of his classes, but her deliberately torn form-fitting jeans and large workout shirt hanging off one shoulder (just as deliberately, if the prominent pink bra strap was any indication) told Sable everything he needed to know about her.

“And the catch is?” he asked.

“Well, my baby needs a daddy,” she purred, “and honestly it’s been a while since I got me some action, so….”

“How old are you?”

“As old as you need me to be.” When he rolled his eyes, she added, “Look, sixteen, okay? But that’s legal, right?”

“Legal if you’re emancipated or have your parents’ consent. In this state anyway,” he said, crossing his arms. “And don’t you think I’m a little old for you?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got a job! You’re going places!” she insisted. “And I suspect unlike Root Factor, you probably won’t end up behind bars for having a hot young thing like me, right?” She sidled up to him.

“No.”

“I’m good at fixing things. Like your car. And you.”

“Not interested.”

At this point, the steady rumble of a tow truck sounded, causing Sable to sigh in relief. Saved by the metaphorical bell.

“Last chance,” Tirespin insisted.

“Sorry, my fiancée won’t take that too well,” he told her. Admittedly, he and Celestia weren’t actually engaged, per se, but Tirespin didn’t need to know that.

However, she was undeterred. “Hey, I’m okay with—”

“No,” he finally said in a firm tone.

She pouted slightly, but then laughed. “Okay, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me! And I’m always ready to go!” To his surprise, she looked at the tow truck, flipped it off and walked back towards the building. There was a certain level of vitriol behind the action that made Sable briefly curious, but he brushed it off as a jealous teenager letting the competition know the battle wasn’t over.

The driver’s door to the tow truck opened and a huge man well taller than Sable (who was pretty tall himself) stepped out. With mahogany-brown skin, close-cropped black hair with a single skunk-stripe of gray and apple-green eyes, Sable noted the guy moved as though he’d been in the military—he just had that demeanor about him. But then he saw Tirespin’s one-finger message and his posture seemed to sink ever so slightly.

“So you’re the guy from Hard Luck Auto?” Sable asked.

“Eyup, that’s me,” he said absently. He then turned to Sable and though he had a friendly demeanor in his thick voice, he didn’t seem to have the same step as he did a second ago. “You the one Sombra called about in regards to the 2004 Jeep?” He offered his hand; it was calloused, no stranger to work and had a strong grip. “Troubleshoes.”

“Sable Loam,” he said, shaking the hand before patting his Jeep. “And this is my ride.”

“Well, let me take a look at it, okay?” he said with a clearly-faked grin; however, strangely enough, his eyes seemed to hold that same sad look as earlier. “What seems to be the problem?”

Sable explained everything and Troubleshoes listened carefully, seemingly noting details without writing anything down, which somewhat impressed the younger man. After a few minutes of running the car, Troubleshoes closed the hood and said, “Looks like I’m going to have to take this down to my shop to get a better look at it. But I’ll be honest: I think you’ve blown a head gasket.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t. Usually when that happens, you have to replace the whole engine and most of the time, with older cars, it pretty much turns them into junkers. That’s not to say it can’t be fixed, but between labor and machining costs, you’re better off just either replacing the whole engine, or sometimes the whole car.”

“Great,” Sable sighed.

“Hey, I could be wrong, but I really doubt it. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

Playing devil’s advocate, Sable motioned back to where Tirespin had retreated. “Well, that girl said she could fix it, no sweat.”

There was, for a second, the briefest flash of anger in the man’s eyes, then it vanished into the sea of melancholy once more. “Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect, Mister,” Troubleshoes noted. “Anyway, I’ll see what I can do. You have my word on it.” He then handed Sable a card and said, “I’ll give you a call when I find out anything more.”

“Okay, uh, thanks?” Sable asked, unsure of what to say. It occurred to him for the first time that maybe Tirespin and Troubleshoes knew each other. Come to think of it, the girl had mentioned having worked part time at a mechanic shop when they were talking earlier. Past tense and all. Based on her behavior around him, Sable wondered whether she was let go under ugly circumstances.

However, he voiced none of these thoughts as he watched Troubleshoes hook his car up to his tow truck, then wished him a good day before watching him drive off into the sunset with his beloved Jeep in tow. Sable then took out his phone. It looked like he was going to need to take his girlfriend up on her offer after all.

Dinner that night was simple Caesar salads. Normally, Sable handled the cooking that night, but given that his mind was elsewhere, Celestia had opted to make salads for both. At the moment, he absently chewed away at the lettuce, his mind a thousand miles away.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked him.

“No, kinda depressed about it. That Jeep and I have been through a lot together and I’d really hate to write it off, but I guess as we get older, so do other things.” He speared another lettuce leaf and popped it in his mouth, mechanically masticating for a few more seconds before he sighed. “I’m in no mood to work out tonight. I’m going to have to send a text to the girls that tonight’s off.”

“Are you sure? I would think that working out would take your mind off the stress,” Celestia told him. “Besides, didn’t you tell me that they’re not completely up to snuff compared to just a few days ago?”

“‘Just a few days ago’ in another reality where they worked out on a daily basis because that was all they had,” Sable reminded her. “In this new timeline, they’ve had normal lives and their individual regimens have kept them incredibly fit, but—”

“But not military fit, I take it?”

“Well, for regular infantry, sure. But if we’re going to be ponyland Special Forces and Sunset’s bodyguards, they have to be in better than top shape. We’re talking Navy SEALs and SAS-level fit. And right now, they’re not quite there. I need to push them to be better, but at the same time…I don’t want to make them give up the lives they have.” He looked at her with slight guilt etched on his face. “Losing their mother figures destroyed them, but they kept moving on, like robots, because that was all they ever knew. But now? They have lives. They’re comfortable being normal girls, which they weren’t earlier—granted, I didn’t know them all that well back then, but I think in the past few weeks I’ve gotten to know them a little better and…they’re happy. And I don’t want to take that away from them.”

A soft, loving smile spread on Celestia’s face. “And that’s what I love about you. You care about those girls. You were born to be a teacher and a leader, Sable.”

“I guess,” he said absently, reaching for his phone. He tapped out a message on the phone, then shut it off. “I told them tonight was an independent workout night. It’ll give them the option of whether they’ll do it or not; it’ll also give Adagio a chance at some leadership skills—to see if she can push as a unit commander.”

“And what about you?” Celestia said, finishing off her plate. “I know I have some paperwork to review in regards to the planned construction of Forest Ridge High. The Board really wants to push for that and I need to look over the potential candidates for the initial principal and vice principal. They’re probably going to offer Sombra the top slot, but knowing him, he’ll turn it down. He feels like he belongs at The Blanks.”

“Yeah, given how he’s dedicated to the kids there, I can’t say I blame him,” he said. “But to answer your question, I have a sizeable backlog of papers to grade. Might as well get started on that.”

The following morning, Sable got up early enough that Celestia was able to drop him off at work. Waiting there for him inside was Tirespin. She was dressed provocatively in tight shorts and a low-cut tank top that definitely wasn’t suited to the autumn weather. What was more, she had her tool bag with her.

“Hi,” she said, making sure that he had a perfect view of her cleavage.

“Look, Tirespin...” Sable began.

“Okay, I admit, maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” Tirespin began. “So I’m going to do this the right way, okay? I want you to look at my body and just picture: as I get older, I’m going to get hotter, and you’re going to want a girl like me. I mean, how many girls do you have that throw themselves at you?”

“One, and that’s all I need,” Sable said, and then asked, “Why are you so interested anyway?”

“Because my baby girl needs a daddy that’ll teach her to grow up right!” Tirespin ran a hand through her smokey red-tinged hair. “I mean, I thought that was going to be Root Factor, but I guess he wasn’t ready for that.”

“Wasn’t ready? From what I understand, he went to jail for statutory and it ended with you being sent here, am I right?” Sable looked at her. “You really need to think about your future, Tirespin, both for yourself and your child.”

Tirespin tried to keep up her seductive expression even as her eyes narrowed. “Look, I don’t have to think about anything, okay?” she told him. “And besides, I love my daughter! Why do you think that I’m trying to do this?”

“I don’t know why you’re trying to do this. Wouldn’t it make sense to graduate, get into a decent school and raise your daughter to be self-sufficient?”

Tirespin rolled her eyes. “Maybe for white folks like you, Mr. Loam. But for us who don’t have that kind of luxury? For those of us whose mothers vanish one day and don’t come back, and whose fathers abandoned them by crawling into a bottle? I raised myself, practically. Yeah, sure, I live with my grandmother, but the fact is, my parents? They really didn’t factor into my life. And I don’t want that for my kid. I want my sweet little Cinnamon Breeze to have the kind of life I didn’t have!”

“And you’re doing that the wrong way.”

“Look, you don’t get to tell me what to do until we’re dating, okay? And maybe not even then. You can tell me after we’re coupled.”

“Kid, that’s not happening,” Sable told her flat out. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not going to play it.”

With a huff, she got to her feet. “I see we’ll have to work on that.” She leaned against him, making sure she was pressing herself against him. “Don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of time to make sure you know where you belong.” She broke off from him and waved goodbye as she headed into the school. “See you later, teach!”

Sighing, he walked into the school to begin getting ready for his classes. But as he entered the faculty office, his phone went off. “Yeah, this is Sable,” he said.

“Mr. Loam? This is Troubleshoes, from Hard Luck Auto? About your Jeep….”

He sighed. “Let me guess: car’s a goner and there’s no way it’s recoverable, is it?”

“I’m afraid not, unless you want to pay $5000 or so for an entirely new engine. And even then, given the age of the car, it’s only going to last maybe another 25—30 thousand until you’re looking at replacing the transmission.”

Sable couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Great. What am I going to do with it?”

“I have contacts at Purple Heart Veterans Car Donation Service, if you’re willing. They take cars and fix them up for vets who have issues. Medical, mental, that sort of thing.”

Sable himself was a veteran; he had more than enough old buddies that had been injured back in Afghanistan and Iraq. “Sure, just let me know what I need to do and I’ll be happy to do that.”

“No problem. I’ll contact them and have them call you tomorrow. You’ll need your title information as well as some other things, but it won’t take long.”

“No problem. Thanks again. How much do I owe you?”

“Not a thing, man. I don’t charge fellow vets for things like that.”

“So you were in?” Sable asked, glad that his hunches were still good.

“Yeah. SEAL Team FOUR. Did some time in the First Gulf War and Somalia. You?”

“Ranger. Did my thing in Afghanistan.”

“Well, as I said, it’s a pleasure to help a fellow vet. Anyway, I’ll get them in touch for you. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, thanks again,” Sable said in a dejected tone as he hung up. He actually did appreciate what Troubleshoes had done for him, but damn if he was going to miss that Jeep. Well, if I’m getting serious, I suppose I was going to have to upgrade to an SUV for family life sooner or later, he sighed. May as well do it now. Of course, that also means….

He started dialing Celestia. He was not happy about this.

Since tonight was a definite workout night with the triplets, the four of them went at it in the basement training room of Sunset’s family mansion. This time it was disadvantaged attacks, where they had to defend themselves while debilitated in some manner or form. Sunset was there, and with her spellcraft, she’d temporarily blinded Adagio, given Aria vertigo until she could barely stand, and Sonata had one arm completely immobilized and with the equivalent of serious injury to her right leg. And with that, he then attacked the three, mercilessly, physically and with every intent to deliver brutal blows.

The three of them, unsurprisingly, made the best of their situations; and it was clear that they’d had this training before in the “time that was no longer”. Their new reality had only slightly dulled said skills: Adagio was reacting slower than he’d seen her do in the past, but against someone who wasn’t as well trained as he was, she would have defended herself and possibly even overcome her opponent. Sonata tried to outlast him and even though she couldn’t do it, again, against a lesser skilled opponent, she probably would have succeeded as well. But Aria managed to surprise him the most. Nauseous from the spell, she’d actually managed to vomit on him and, with him surprised and disgusted by the distraction, he fell prey to her trap. She’d then swept his legs and pinned him, much to the surprise of the other two.

Finally, Sunset looked at her phone. “Time, folks. I’m dissipating the spells.”

“Oh, thank God!” Aria said. “I think I was tasting last week’s lunch at one point.”

“I think you added it to the design pattern on our uniforms, Commander,” Sable noted wryly as he watched cyan magic make the offending fluids vanish from his shirt, much to his relief.

Aria blushed. “Sorry about that, sir.”

“No, don’t be. You did what you had to do to survive—all three of you did, and I have a feeling that if your old sœurs were here, they’d say the same thing.” The three of them beamed at that and he smiled a little inside; he knew he could never take the place of their older sister/mother figures, but he would do the best that he could. “Well, that’s more than enough for tonight. Go ahead and pack up while I talk to Her Highness here.”

“Aye, sir,” all three girls said while Sable led Sunset away.

The two stepped a decent bit away before Sable spoke. “Any questions you have, Your Highness?”

“No, but I wish you’d stop calling me that,” she told him.

“Sorry, but those are the rules while we are on duty, and those are what you agreed to,” he reminded her. “We are here to protect you and we cannot be in that mindset if we keep thinking of you as the triplets’ cousin and my girlfriend’s former student. A certain level of detachment is required and that’s the best way to do it.”

“I understand that,” Sunset sighed. “It’s just that my mother—my biological mother—was never comfortable with that and I guess I picked that up from her. In any case, I do have a question: I need your bank’s routing number and your checking account info so I can wire you the money.”

“Now it’s my turn to be uncomfortable about that, Ms. Shimmer,” he told her.

“Yes, but as a princess I need to ensure that my subjects and my guards are well taken care of,” she said. “A certain level of attachment is required and that’s the best way to do it.”

“Touché,” he responded with a faint smile. “I just hope the triplets are ready for your upcoming trip to Equestria. Unfortunately, because I need to look for a new car, I can’t go with you four, so I hope they’ll acquit themselves accordingly.”

“I have no doubt they will, Admiral,” she told him. “They don’t want to let you down.”

Sable smiled. He knew he would never replace their sœurs, but looking at the triplets as they packed up—exhausted, but smiling—Sable started to think that those shoes might not be too big for him to fill after all.

But by the time Sable arrived home that night all he felt was exhausted. This was compounded by the fact that he still had a veritable mountain of papers left to grade. He found Celestia asleep on the couch in front of some sitcom autoplaying episode after episode on Netflix. She was wearing the black, lacey nightgown she knew he liked, evidently hoping for a little intimate time when he got home, but must have fallen asleep waiting for him. Seeing it was almost midnight, Sable realized tonight’s training session had gone on later than he thought.

Celestia stirred when he turned off the TV, and Sable gave her a “Hey,” and a peck on the cheek.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Late. You should get to bed if you want to make that eight o’clock meeting you have tomorrow.”

Celestia seemed inclined to push on her original plans for the evening but an untimely yawn shut that down. So she got up from the couch and started making her way to the bedroom, but paused when she noticed Sable wasn’t following her.

“Aren’t you coming to bed? I thought you had a first-period class tomorrow.”

“Yep,” Sable said as he went to the kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee for the long night still ahead. “Which is why I need to get these papers graded before then.”

Sable knew that his girlfriend would understand more than most the grim necessity of late night grading sessions. So he was surprised to see her standing in the kitchen doorway looking concerned.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Sable?” she asked. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately. You essentially have two full-time jobs now, and from what you’ve told me, you have yet to even start most of your duties as the admiral of Sunset’s guards.”

“I’ll manage. I’m ex-military, remember? I’ve been trained to operate on minimal sleep.”

The frown on Celestia’s face didn’t leave. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. I’m the biggest workaholic I know and I think this is unhealthy. Can’t you talk to Sunset?”

Sable found himself raising his voice as he said, “About what, Tia? Should I ask her to just snap her fingers and make all my work disappear?!”

Rather than flinch back, Celestia met his raised voice with her own. “How about seeing if she can delegate some of your work?”

“To who? It’s just the four of us right now!”

“Talk to Sunset about hiring someone. God knows she can afford to!” Celestia argued passionately, true to her Italian heritage. “Surely you’ve got some old war buddy who could use the paycheck?”

Sable knew he probably could have made use of a master chief petty officer—someone who could take full responsibility for actually training the triplets and, eventually, the rest of the new SIREN recruits. But there was just one problem with that.

“And won’t that be a great pitch? ‘Hey man, I know we haven’t spoken in years but how’d you like a job in a magical unicorn’s personal army operating illegally on US soil?’ I’m sure that won’t go terribly at all!” Finally, Sable heard himself and sighed. His voice was much more subdued as he said, “I’m sorry, Tia. I know you’re just trying to help. I’m not mad at you.”

Celestia seemed ready enough to accept the apology, as she went over to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a tender kiss.

“I know. You’re still upset about your Jeep, aren’t you?”

Sable nodded. “It’s not gonna be salvageable. That Troubleshoes guy is going to donate it on my behalf tomorrow.”

Celestia winced. “Sorry to hear that. What’s he charging you?”

“Nothing. He’s calling it a favor from one vet to another.”

“Well, that’s awfully kind of him.”

Sable nodded. It was then that he remembered what Sombra had said when he first recommended him. As good as he is, he’s… unlucky. Something tells me he needs the business.

“I think I’ll try to make it up to him somehow. At the very least I’ll buy him a drink or something.”

Troubleshoes Clyde was an early bird. Always was. But the apparent customer banging on his door at eight in the morning was pushing the limits of his patience. Grumbling, he stood from his kitchen table, abandoning his toast with peanut butter and descending the stairs to his workshop.

“Business hours start at nine!” He called out as he made his way towards the front door.

A familiar voice called back, “Even for old war buddies?” and Troubleshoes’s heart sank into his chest a little.

Troubleshoes turned the lock and removed the deadbolt (a necessity in Sunnytown) to a troublingly familiar man in a dark jacket and fedora wearing a red scarf around his neck. Troubling because he knew there was only one reason for the broad-shouldered man to be here.

“What are you doing here, Biff?” Troubleshoes asked anyway, holding onto the slim hope that it was only a social call.

Hardy Biff frowned, looking genuinely upset. “C’mon, Big T… not even a ‘hello’? After everything we went through in Somalia?”

“Look, I’m sorry Biff, I don’t mean to be rude, but I can venture a guess why you’re here and my answer is gonna be no,” Troubleshoes said, hoping he’d managed to muster a deadly serious look through his tired eyes. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“I know how you feel about what we do, man. Believe me, I’ve tried to convince the Boss Man to let your little debt go, but you know how he is….”

Biff let the thought hang there for a moment, the message ringing loud and clear.

“Tell you what,” Biff continued, “why don’t you come out and take a look at it? Just so you know what you’d be working with.”

Troubleshoes had half a mind to tell him off and slam the door, but the other half then reminded him of his brief encounter with the Boss Man in question, and before he knew it Troubleshoes found himself following Biff outside and around the back of Hard Luck Auto. Biff led him towards a black SUV; a Mercedes Benz GLC. Its windows were tinted and at a glance, Troubleshoes couldn’t see anything wrong with it.

He could tell there was probably something wrong with the man leaning against the vehicle, though. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but Troubleshoes could see the madness in them from his smile alone. The man pushed off the SUV when he saw Biff and Troubleshoes coming and brushed a hand through well-styled black bangs.

“Man, you weren’t kidding about this guy, Biff,” said the man, regarding Troubleshoes with an impressed whistle. “You’ve been eating your Wheaties, huh?”

The sigh from Biff told Troubleshoes everything he needed to know. “Troubleshoes, this is my associate Coarse Withers,” Biff said. “Withers, this is my old buddy Troubleshoes Clyde.”

Troubleshoes extended the barest of his courtesy with his open hand, and Withers took it with gusto. He had a surprisingly strong grip for a man of his slender build. “Pleasure’s all mine, Big T!”

Even behind those shades, Troubleshoes could feel Withers’s eyes flick up and down his body with apparent excitement, and whatever intent was behind the look made him uneasy.

“His personality takes some getting used to but he’s handy in a fight,” Biff said amicably enough. Perhaps he picked up on Troubleshoes’s discomfort.

“So what seems to be the problem?” Troubleshoes asked, hoping to speed things along.

Biff and Withers walked with him to the other side of the SUV where the problem immediately became apparent. The driver side window was completely shattered, and on the door right below it was more than a few 10mm holes.

“Druggie bastard got the jump on us as we were pulling up to their hideout,” Withers explained. “But don’t worry, I made sure to wipe up his brain matter for you. Let it not be said I don’t clean up after myself!”

“So, what do you think?” Biff asked, clearly making an effort to ignore Withers. “This seem within your capabilities?”

“I’d have to order a new door frame and window from Mercedes…” Troubleshoes muttered.

Troubleshoes still wasn’t sure he wanted to be involved in whatever this was, and Biff must have picked up on that.

“Look, you do this for us and I’ll make sure the Bloodhound considers your debt paid,” he said. “I’ll even cover the costs of the new parts myself. Believe it or not, our friendship still means something to me, man.”

Letting out a long sigh, Troubleshoes relented. “Fine, but after this I’m done!”

For a moment Biff looked at him sadly, then with a shrug he said, “Of course,” and that was that.

He and Withers then went with Troubleshoes inside where they filled out the paperwork (using different names) and just like that, the deal was made. Troubleshoes let them indulge in small talk a little while longer to keep relations friendly, but when it started getting closer to nine o’clock he ushered them out.

“You made the right choice today, Big Boy,” Withers said as he lingered at the door. “Remember, you’ve gotta be thinking of more than just yourself. There’s your little girl to consider… and her little girl.”

How does he know about Tirespin? Troubleshoes thought as he narrowed his eyes. “What about them?” he asked, giving his carefully neutral voice a hint of danger.

Withers smirked with almost childlike glee. “You provide for ‘em, don’t you? Just sayin’. We all wanna make sure those girls have a bright future ahead of them, right?”

Withers left him with that thought, and Troubleshoes watched him and Biff drive off in a second (undamaged) SUV. Troubleshoes wasn’t sure how long he stood there with the cold pit in his stomach. His senses only returned when the first customer of the day came in saying he looked under the weather. Troubleshoes just said that yeah, he probably was.

Author's Note:

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