A Dodgy Business

by MLP-Silver-Quill

Chapter 6: Bedside Vigil

“Stop laughing.” Rawley leaned his head as close to Harumphy as far as the neck brace allowed. Had to keep their voices down.

“Not laughing.” Harumphy grinned.

“You’re laughing on the inside. Now stop it!” Rawley was in a right sour mood. Being smashed beneath that flying crate and carried back by Whiskers hadn’t made for a chipper day. And then Ms. Preda had stormed in, all bluster about having to block them ponies from collecting the bounty on the Grumble Brothers again.

“Them Brothers are sending me into fits.” The missus declared. “I can’t have them out and about this close to the end. Mr. Ratsnout, either you and your hoodlums fix this problem or start running. And I promise y’all, it doesn’t matter how far or where you run.”

Rawley and company would never willfully run afoul of the law. Thumb their snouts at it, sure. Nip its wallet when it wasn’t looking, certainly. Yet Rawley would never go into the law’s home, bat the fuzz over the head and bind them up.

So how was it he was doing that very deed? He eyed Whiskers and Twitch, who were fastening the last of the ropes around Lucky Roll and one of his deputies. Both ponies were out cold with big welts growing out of their manes. When they came to, they’d have an awful hard time snitching what with the blindfolds and the gags. Rawley and co. would be long gone.

Except every pony would know they did it. Every pony always knew they did it. Thing was, none of them could prove it. But this was crossing a line. This was going from swiping the silverware to stealing the dresser. It violated the absolute rule of the Sneak: never get into a situation you can’t escape.

Lucky Roll and his deputy had been in the middle of a game of cards when Twitch got the drop on them. Rawley picked up the hand that Lucky Roll had been dealt and his eyebrows rose. Shame he hadn’t had this kind of luck the day he’d met Rawley. Though it hadn’t helped that Rawley had swapped a stacked deck. Had been a feat of glory, winning back his scratch from Lucky Roll and then driving the pony so far into debt that he’d had no choice to but to serve Ms. Preda. Bad luck, you playing a game with me.

“Hurry it up, you two.”

Scrap and Scamp fiddled with the locks on either cell door. “Betcha I finish mine first, you see?” said Scamp.

“Not bleeding likely!” hissed Scrap. “I’ll have this blighter out the door before you’re done with the first lock.”

“Hsst!” The lads might be the best lock pickers in Equestria, but they still couldn’t live up to the art of the Sneak. Then again, I’ve got bugger-all room to talk.

“Hmmph!” The Sherriff was awake and struggling. Twitched grinned all manic and raised his billy club for another strike. Rawley caught the blow and shook his head. After a few ticks, Twitch slackened his arm and padded outside. Properly silent, when he felt like it. Rawley sent Harumphy and Whiskers outside to keep watch. He considered having Harumphy take the final, most dangerous leg, but it’d be too easy to add something like, “You’re supposed to take out that bloke in the cap. Make it painful.”

So when the twins unlocked the cells (simultaneously, as far as Rawley cared), he was the one to pad into the dark interior and shimmy up to the troll chained to the floor and wall. The fuzz had used the thickest chains to hold them, and doubled the bindings from last time. The padlocks holding them chains together were simple enough, so Rawley shooed the twins outside. Cor! I’m sticking me neck out for me mates. What’s become of me?

This one was Flick, if the braided black hair was any hint. Rawley preferred to keep clear of anything that could crush him with one fist, and learning names made that loads harder.

Climbing the chains until his head was level with the troll’s, Rawley doffed his cap. “Wotcher, Mr. Grumble. Word from the missus. You’re supposed to hurry on over to the abandoned railway right fast. No detours.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “She also said that if you squish me or any of me mates or a stray pony, then you can consider yourself right buggered and deal with the consequences yourself. Sir.”

The troll couldn’t talk through the bite-gag log wedged behind his teeth, but his look said, “If I had just one pinky free, I could snap you like a twig and use the bits to clean my fingernails.” But the troll nodded, and Rawley found himself caught between returning empty-pawed, or taking a risk. Neither offered much shot at survival.

Producing a lock pick from under his cap, Rawley fiddled with the padlock over the troll’s chest. A few solid clicks, and the lock gave free. Rawley didn’t have time to remove it. The fresh slack gave Flick Grumble the room he needed to flex his massive shoulders. Most of the chains snapped loose. The troll finished the work by yanking the chains from the wall and tearing away the bite gag. He made to smash the wall dividing him from his brother, but Rawley jumped in front of those massive fists and waved his paws. “Breaking down the jail’s the same as smashing the sheriff! Ms. Preda don’t want one of her favorite pets getting flattened.”

Flick considered, then went to the bars and grabbed hold. He pulled them apart until there was a troll-sized hole of bent metal rods. Flick rounded to his brother’s cell and had at it again. Right proper job. Very efficient. Rawley heard grumbling from the cell, though too low to make out the words. He dashed out the hole the Brothers had smashed earlier. He cast a glance at the still-struggling Sherriff. You owe me. You might be in debt to Ms. Preda, but you owe me. His selfless deed of the century done, Rawley rejoined his fellows in the street shadows and watched as the Grumble Brothers emerged from the jail and set off down the street.

“Tavern, lads.” said Rawley. “Be with you in a tick.” He set off after the Brothers, following at a good distance.

The abandoned train tracks lay outside the town proper. Had been a part of the mine network until the ponies shut that down. Most of the planks and nails had been pulled long ago. All that was left were rusty rail lines and half of a small platform that had been used for loading goods.

Penelope Preda stood atop that platform, bathed in silver moonlight. “Gentle-trolls. So good to see you up and about.”

Flick and Pick Grumble muttered something dark.

“I was so very disappointed to learn you’d gotten yourselves caught. Twice.”

More grumbling, so dark Rawley thought the world lost some moonlight.

Ms. Preda stepped off the platform paced around the Brothers. “And to think you wouldn’t have to suffer any of these indignities if y’all had simply honored our agreement. But no, you had to go and try to steal sunscreen from my own shipment.” The fabric of her slipers protested, and Ms. Preda steadied herself with a breath. “And now we find ourselves at an impasse. I had to call in many, many favors to dispose of all that sunscreen lest our association be known. And now you’ve been washed clean of your last batch. I guess that makes you night-owls for the time being.”

She smiled at them both. “And let’s be honest. Y’all couldn’t reach the next town in just one night. And the Sherriff or his like would have the Royal Air Guard hunting for you the moment they realized y’all weren’t hiding in that mine. So the way I see it, y’all got little choice but to do as I say until I trust you enough to smuggle in a fresh batch.”

The Grumble brothers exchanged a glance, then nodded. “Good. I am so glad we could come to this understanding. And just to show there’s no hard feelings, y’all can be guests my home’s cellar until that nag in Canterlot raises her moon tomorrow. Y’all have to enter discreetly, of course.” She paused with a smirk. “‘Discreetly’ means not knocking anything down or being seen. Clear?”

The Brothers nodded.

“Well, then best be off. Sunrise ain’t that far away.”

Rawley waited until the Brothers were a good ways off before approaching Ms. Preda. “Beggin’ your pardon, mum, but why you want those two in your cellar?”

Ms. Preda didnt’ look at him as she dusted herself with the swipe of her tail. “Because it’s the one place no pony would dare look for them. Two captures in two days is going to take the sting out of their reputation. After tomorrow night, no pony will question that they’re still the meanest hustlers in the territory.”

Second-meanest, Rawley corrected. Ms. Preda glanced at him, and Rawley wondered if she couldn’t smell his thoughts. “That will be all, Mr. Ratsnout. Another moment of your aroma and I fear I shall faint.”

Rawley took the hint and set off to the town tavern. With a sidetrip to the nearest garbage pile for old time’s sake. The voices of his ancestors were calling, “Get out now or lose your tail!” and he was inclined to listen.

XXXXXX

“It’s all my fault.” Applejack buried her face in her hooves. The sweet smells of Ms. Jubilee’s kitchen weren’t doing a thing for her. Neither were Big Macintosh’s tries for comfort.

“Dearie,” Ms. Jubilee took her by the hoof, “y’all needn’t take on this burden. No pony could have known that branch would break off.”

“I would have.” Applejack felt like beating her thick head into the card table. She couldn’t quite remember everything leading up to the here and now. She remembered calling for help while trying to stop Clutterstep’s bleeding, then moving in a daze while Big Macintosh carried Clutterstep back to the house and Ms. Jubilee ran to fetch the town doctor. Then waiting. Slow, horrible waiting until the doc finally got on up to the ranch and went to tend the pony that had saved Applejack’s life. “If I’d been looking—if I hadn’t been so dang insistent on harvesting past dusk—I would have seen that branch was no good. I should be the one lying in there, not Clutterstep.”

“Nnope!” Big Macintosh rested a hoof on her side. “He wouldn’t want that neither.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Her brother said in that even voice that forbade any backtalk. “Blaming yourself ain’t gonna change a thing. Besides, Clutter’s a strong pony. He’ll pull through. And when he wakes up, we’ll be there to greet him.” He said it so plain-like. So direct. Applejack could almost believe it was the truth.

A knock at the door. The town doctor, a yellow earth pony with white mane and a hacksaw on his flank (not encouraging) cleared his throat.

“Doc Hacksaw.” Ms. Jubilee stood from the table. “How is he?”

“Well, I gotta say ol’ Clutterstep set a new record. Fifteen stitches and plenty of blood loss,” Applejack wanted to cry. “But if anypony proves natural selection’s a load of hooey, it’s that colt.” Applejack and her brother both shared a glance.

“Doctor,” Ms. Jubilee growled, “have you ever thought of a little something called ‘bedside manner’?”

“Oh, c’mon now, Ms. Jubilee. You and I know that colt’s darn near indestructible. I’ve patched him up so many times I start to wonder if’n he ain’t some kind of mass hallucination.” He tucked a stethoscope into a medical saddlebag and tossed them over his back.

“Wait a minute!” Applejack was between him and the door faster than he could blink. “You’re just leaving and he ain’t even woken up yet?”

“Well... um, yes?” The doc was sweating. “Look, we both know he’ll be fine. I mean, a broken leg one week, a sprained neck the next, he bounces back faster than a rubber cactus. Besides, if Ms. Preda got wind that I was down here…”

“Fine.” said Ms. Jubilee. “Get out.” She gave Applejack a nod to unblock the doorway. The doc scurried past without looking back. “Of all things!” Ms. Jubilee sat back at the table and poured another cup of tea. “Them Varmin are always swiping things, but Penelope Preda went and took the spine out of this here town!” She slammed her teacup down, the refilled the contents with her tin flask.

Applejack looked down the hallway. The door to Clutterstep’s new room cracked just enough to show the flickering candlelight. “This sorta thing happens to him a lot?”

“This was pretty severe,” said Ms. Jubilee, “but Doc Hacksaw is right that Cluttersteps got an unusual knack for healing. Tell you what, dearie, how’s about you keep an eye on him so he sees a friendly face when he wakes up?”

Applejack let out a snort. “My face ain’t been that friendly, specially not my mouth.”

“Now, now. None of that.” Ms. Jubilee patted her hoof. “I’ve got other work to attend to tend before... well, it just needs doing.”

Applejack said, “Shouldn’t we get in touch with his family? Let ‘em know what happened?”

Cherry Jubilee let out a long breath. “I don’t think he’s got kin. I’ve asked a few times, and he said things like, ‘they haven’t got a mailing address’ or ‘I wouldn’t waste the postage.’ Never seen him write a letter or send a wire neither.” She smiled at the Apple siblings. “Times like this, it’s important to have the right ponies nearby. You and Big Macintosh—Where are you going?”

Big Macintosh was halfway out the doorway, and Applejack didn’t think he was chasing after the doctor. He turned his head and said, “Gotta check somethin’.” And then he was gone. Ms. Jubilee stared after him right puzzled, then shrugged and turned to Applejack. She gently lifted Applejack’s chin and offered a smile before slipping into her office.

Applejack sat for a spell. Easier to get up and tangle with the second coming of Nightmare Moon then go down that hallway. When did you go and turn all chicken, AJ? Your mama and papa be shamed. Forcing a deep breath, Applejack stood and walked down the hall.

Clutterstep lay on a plush bed with several pillows under his bandaged head. The doc had pulled back his mane to do the stitching. Applejack couldn’t quite figure why the doc had drawn on Clutterstep’s face.

An uneven white ring circled Clutterstep’s left eye, like one of Pinkie Pie’s tainted spyglass jokes. His eye twitched, and the ring moved with him. Applejack watched the birthmark, wondering if she’d ever seen a pony with such a thing. Pipsqueak, sure, but that boy was spotted like a paintball game. Clutterstep had this one white ring, and he’d rather walk into walls than let other ponies see it.

Applejack reached out with one hoof, the way she might test a candle’s warmth.

The eye twitched again, and Clutterstep moaned. Applejack drew away, afraid she’d woken him. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Clutterstep let out a sob. The tears streaked down his cheeks like water from a spout. He didn’t call out. Just those tiny sobs like he couldn’t let the world hear. The klutziness and awkward grins were gone, and all Applejack could see was a hurt pony; lonely and crying.

“Shh, sugarcube.” She nuzzled him, taking his tears and trying to sooth him. His body trembled from the sobs. She didn’t want to know the kinds of dreams he suffered.

Granny Smith had sung a song to Applejack’s momma growing up, and it had passed down the line. From mother to daughter, and then between sisters. It was the best song in the world and helped set Applejack and Applebloom to sleep every time. Quietly, she sang.

“There’s a place for every pony

Whether they travel near or far.

It’s a secret just between us

And it shines like a star.

If you ever feel lonely,

If the world feels too cold,

Just remember that you’re with me

In the special place I hold.

No matter where you journey,

Remember from the start,

There’s a special place saved for you

Right here in my heart.”

Clutterstep’s sobbing faded. His trembling stopped. Seemed to be breathing easier. Applejack soothed strands of his mane away from the white birthmark and made sure the bandages were still in place. He looked a lot more like a colt when he slept. In a proper bed. No hammocks in the cold or worries about bringing down the house.

“Clutter,” she whispered, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that there’ll always be a place for you at Sweet Apple Acres. That song makes it official. Your an honorary Apple.” She held his hoof between hers and listened to his breathing.

When Big Macintosh came for her, the candle on the nightstand had melted to half its height. Clutterstep hadn’t suffered any more crying. If anything, he looked a more peaceful. More peaceful than Big Macintosh, that was certain. Her brother had a seriousness about him that set Applejack’s stomach to flip-flopping. He motioned for her to follow, and Applejack reluctantly tucked Clutterstep’s hoof under the covers and followed him outside. Ms. Jubilee waited for them, looking just as uncertain as Applejack.

“What wrong, big brother?”

“Look.” Big Macintosh pointed at a pile of tree limbs gathered at the edge of the orchard. Applejack circled the pile, not sure what she was supposed to see. Cherries still hung on the branches, so they’d come from trees not yet harvested. Applejack still couldn’t see what her brother intended until she came to the back of the pile. “No. They didn’t.”

The branches had all been broken off, but only halfway. The top half of each break was perfectly smooth. Cut by a saw. Somepony--no--some no good, backstabbing, snake-in-fur-and-feathers had made this happen.

Ms. Jubilee had seen it too. “How could she?” She sat down on the spot, staring but not seeing anything. Applejack couldn’t blame her. The idea was just too terrible.

“We need to talk to the Sheriff.” said Applejack. “We need to show him this. It’s proof.”

“The Sheriff’s in her pocket.” said Ms. Jubilee. “Has been ever since she handed him the job. Made him take it to pay off those foalish gambling debts. And there ain’t no proof that Preda or her Varmin did it. We know, they know, but every pony’s too scared to admit it.” She stood and staggered back towards her home. “I... I need to be alone for a spell.”

Applejack looked to her brother, but he shook his head. Ms. Jubilee needed her space, and the Apples were inclined to give it.

“This is wrong.” said Applejack as they walked down the hallway to Clutterstep’s room. “It’s all wrong. The wrong pony’s lying hurt. The wrong griffon’s got all the power. I ain’t never been so sickened in all my life.”

“Eeyup.” They crept into Clutterstep’s room. He hadn’t stirred.

“I tell you one thing, big bro, I’d give just about anything to have Clutter wake up. I need something good to happen.”

“Eeyup.” Big Macintosh sat next to her, a hoof massaging her withers. “I wished the same.”

Applejack glanced at him. “When?”

Big Macintosh’s gaze went all distant. “You were younger’n Applebloom, always following me around, asking if’n you could help with the chores.” He seemed to deflate, a wry smile crossing his snout. “Thought you was being a pest. I had work to do and thought you were slowin’ me down. So I said you could try apple bucking, and if you got just one apple off the branch, you could keep helping me. Well, you went on up to that tree the way a stallion went to war. All focused and eager. Gave it a right good kick.”

Applejack blushed. She’d always been strong for her age. Got that from her daddy.

Big Macintosh’s voice cracked. “You got one apple loose. This big, green apple. Perfectly ripe and heavy. It clocked you in the head. I still remember you falling. Seemed to take forever.”

Applejack said, “I don’t remember that.” She’d taken plenty of bonks from the stray apple. Though now that she thought on it, there was this little dip in her noggin under her mane.

“I’ll never forget. I carried you back to the farm and Ma and Pa and Granny set to patching you up. All I could do was sit in the corner and wish for you to open your eyes. Woulda given my left hind leg and every apple in the world to have you back.” He smiled at her, tears glistening. He hadn’t been this upset since she’d left Sweet Apple Acres for Dodge Junction the first time. “I swore that if you woke up, I’d watch out for you and teach you everything I knew about apple bucking so that this never happened again. ‘cause with you and Applebloom, I’m only half-complete.” He smiled and turned to show the big green half-apple on his flank. “When you woke up, I coulda burst. Never been so happy in all my days. That’s when my cutie mark appeared.” He sat back down.

Applejack didn’t know what to say. In all their time on the farm, nopony had ever talked about that. But she remembered how her big brother had shown her everything he knew. Always there to guide her, and when she started to take the reigns he’d gone with her no matter how mane-brained she’d behave. She rested her head against his chest and he bent his head low to nuzzle her.

“Good story.” They both jumped.

Clutterstep’s left eye was open. He offered them the gift of a weak smile. “I’m jealous.”

“Clutter!” They both exclaimed. The blue earth pony tried to sit up, then groaned and clasped his head. “Just lay still. You got a nasty hit.”

“Story of my life.”

Applejack turned to her brother. “Let Ms. Jubilee know, would ya?”

“Eeyup!” Big Mac smiled at them both and slipped out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” said Applejack.

“Thirsty.” said Clutterstep.

“Sure. Right away.” Applejack dashed to the kitchen and fetched a glass of water. She held it to Clutterstep’s lips and set it down when he’d finished.

“Hey,” said Clutterstep, “did I say anything stupid while I was out?”

Applejack smiled and shook her head. “No. Nothing stupid at all. Do you rememeber what happened?”

Clutterstep winced. “I remember the tree branch falling. Then pain. And I must’ve really gotten addled because I thought I heard singing.” He looked to Applejack. “Are you okay?”

“Thanks to you, Sugarcube.”

Clutterstep smiled stronger than before. “That’s the first nickname I’ve ever had besides Clumsy Clutter. It’s nice.”

“So are you.” said Applejack. “I’m powerful sorry, Clutter. Here you’ve been trying to help, but I was so dang-blasted frustrated that I all I could focus on was the setbacks. I shoulda been more supportive.”

“No, you were right.” Clutterstep sighed. “I’m a screw-up. Always have been.”

Applejack shook her head and offered another sip of water. “That’s so far from the truth it ain’t even on the same planet. You’re a wonderful pony, Clutterstep. And I’ll stomp any griffon, Varmin, or pony who says neigh.”

A knock at the door drew their attention. Ms. Jubilee stood in the hallway with Big Macintosh beside her. “Clutter, oh, thank Celestia you’re okay!”

“Hey boss.” Clutterstep sat up with a little help from Applejack. “Sorry for the scare. Just give me a few and I’ll be set to try again.”

“That won’t be necessary, Clutter. You can rest up here as long as this land is mine, but you’re fired. Applejack, Big Macintosh, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time here. I’ll buy you both tickets straight to Ponyville as soon as the station opens. Please rest up in the meantime.”

“What?” gasped Applejack.

“Ms. Jubilee!” Clutterstep wobbled on the bed. “C’mon, is this because I had an accident? This is nothing! This is a typical Tuesday.”

“It’s Thursday.” said Mr. Jubilee.

“Either way, it happens more often than you know. I mean, come on! This place is your dream.”

Tears threatened to wash Ms. Jubilee’s eyes clear off her head. “No dream is worth a pony’s life! I’m grateful to you all for trying so hard, but I’ve made my decision. Now excuse me while I tend to some things.” She darted past Big Macintosh and into her bedroom. The locking door echoed throughout the ranch.

XXXXXX

“You know what I say, Rawley?” said Harumphy.

“I’m all a twitter to know.” Rawley said between pints. He and his lads had commandeered the whole tavern for the evening. Wasn’t hard, given that most ponies were still shaking in their cellars after word of the Grumble Brothers’ escape. Even the bar owner had gone home with some of Whiskers’ gentle persuasion. Scrap was fetching a fresh round when Rawley had put forth his idea.

“I think you’ve lost your spine.” said Harumphey.

“Spine? Since when have we ever boasted about having spines?”

“I mean, that flying crate got you knocked off your rocker.” Harumphey poked Rawley in the head, earning a fresh sting from his braced neck. “We’ve got a right nice setup in this town. Even the law can’t touch us long as we throw in with Ms. Preda. And now here you go and say we need to back to the homeland!”

Rawley snatched the fresh pint from Scrap. Too much head and in a smaller glass than the whelp had given the others. Whisker, Scamp, and even Twitch were nodding agreement with Harumphey. Dangerous signs, those.

“I tell you true, my lads, there’s a storm brewing. Ms. Preda’s getting too wrapped up in her little hunt. Forgetting caution and courting disaster, that’s her way now. Whatever happens between her and them ponies at the cherry ranch, we’ll be caught in the middle. I ain’t saying it don’t mean sacrifice,” he swirled his pint, “drinks are decent and the garbage dumps are plentiful. But we’re survivalists by lot. We can make do.”

“We’ve made off pretty fine.” said Whiskers. “I happen to like that ponies are more scared of us than the other way.” He downed a drink in one gulp and handed it to Scamp who carried it back behind the bar.

“Tsch-sh-sh-sh!” Twitch gnashed on his glass before Scrap snatched it away.

Rawley wanted to shout at them, but a mild tone avoided detection. “Make no mistake, they’s scared of Ms. Preda.”

“All the more reason to stick with her.” said Harumphy.

“No, all the more reason to bugger out!” Rawley slammed his drink on the table and instantly wished he hadn’t. Now he’d gone and triggered the fight or flight instinct, and none of his lads looked eager for the second option. “Penelope Preda’s gonna dig her own grave and drag us down with her. Or she’ll land in the pit that bloke Clutterstep digs.”

Harumphy chuckled, “Won’t have to worry about that. Word is that blue bugger’s laid up with a busted skull. If’n we’re lucky, he won’t last the night.” The group exchanged grins, and even Rawley felt heartened by the word.

Still.

“Every pony in this town knows what we’ve been up to. How long you think they’s just gonna let it slide? You back one of us into the corner and we fight. How is it any different for them ponies?” His ear twitched at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, and Rawley had a sense that he’d wasted too much time on words.

The red giant from out of town stomped through the stalls and made straight towards Rawley. The lads all braced, but Rawley leaned back and took a slow sip. If the big one wasn’t expecting nothing, Rawley could either make it out the door or get in the first hit before any were the wiser.

Big Red (or was it Mack-It-Nosh?) towered over Rawley, glaring down doom. “Get up.”

“Ain’t in the mood, so you can just sod off.” He made to take another drink.

Big Red slapped the mug out of his paw. It clattered on the floor, spilling quality brew. “Get. Up.”

Rawley made a survivalist decision. Quick as a stink, he dove out of his chair and made for the door. Big Red was a might faster than he looked. His hoof stomped down on Rawley’s tail, mangling it. Squealing, Rawley turned and lunged with paws hooked into claws. The pony pivoted, and Rawley’s last clear view was a pair of soil-grimed hoofs rising to meet his face.

Everything after there was a half-view on account of one of his eyes swelling shut. He was upside down, embedded in the far wall, and hearing the voices of his fore-scavengers saying, “We told you so!”

Whiskers was next. Always proud of his size, that one. He vaulted atop the table (adding yet more drinks to the night’s casualties) and tackled the pony. Big Red rolled with the attack, came upright and drove his front right hoof into Whiskers’ gut. Whiskers grunted and leaned forward, his claws reaching. Big Red laid him out cold with one hoof.

“TSSSCCH-CH-CH!” Twitch was on Big Red’s back, digging in with his paws. Big Red growled, then yelped as Twitch’s jaws found his ear. The burley pony started bucking like one of them smelly rodeos Rawley had seen between picking pockets. Twitch held tight, but one fateful bounce released his grip and sent him hurtling into the ceiling. He rebounded right back on to the pony’s backside. Three upon three times he completed the circuit until Big Red gave him a bounce so strong that Twitch vanished into the rafters’ shadows and never came down.

Harumphy finally acted in the proper way and tried to scurry out the back. Big Red saw it and launched the nearest chair. It shattered on Harumphy’s back side, threw him against the door, and Rawley suspected his unconsciousness wasn’t from trauma but fainting.

Scrap and Scamp were both armed. Knives from the back kitchen, the little fools. They lunged, but the pony flowed past them and scooped them up in his forelegs so swiftly that they lost their grip and the knives clattered out of reach. He carried the tykes to a chair, sat down with them across his lap, and gave each a good twenty-round spanking.

“Ow!” cried Scamp.

“You tosser!” That earned Scrap an extra five.

Big Red growled. “Watch.”

Slap!

“Your.”

Slap!

“Language!”

The giant pony pushed them off his lap and towards the door. “Now get! And think about what you wanna do with your lives!” The two of them hobbled out without giving Rawley as second glance. Good lads. Never, ever look back!

The whole thing unfolded in less than five minutes. Rawley’s crew lay either unconscious or vanished. Big Red looked around the spilled pints and broken chairs. He picked up the discarded knives, set them on the counter, and headed for the exit. He caught Rawley’s eye on the way out. The look promised that he’d be back to do this again. And again. As many times as needed.

Rawley took the hint and pried himself free of the wall. Picking splinters out of his coat, he went to Whiskers and Harumphy and checked their pockets. A few bits and that was that. The end of an era. Rawley didn’t deny the hint of regret. He thought Harumphy might at least have a few more bits to his name.

Still, that was that.

“Twitch?” he called to the rafters. No answer. “If you can hear me, my advice is to still get while the getting’s decent.”

Ever a leader by example, Rawley turned and fled into the star-woven night.

Comments

[bahatumay]

Nuff said.

[Gustauve]

Very, very satisfying to read that; a little righteous fury goes a long way towards energizing the soul.

[SFaccountant]

Oh, Mac. You're like a big, red teddy bear.
Except when you're mauling peeps. Then you're just a big red ordinary bear.

[Tharen1]

Then his eyes shrank to pinpoints and his entire body stiffened. “I can see through time!” that was so

[INACTIVE_ACCOUNT]

I can see through time!

[Lucky424]

...should have done that in the first place. But now that griffon is gonna send the trolls after Mac.

[Shadow_Wolf]

"In five minutes, I'll be the only person at this table still standing, five minutes after that, I'll be the only one in the room still capable of standing." -Marcus, Babylon 5

Seemed an appropriate quote for Mac there

[Ice Star]

Now the circle is mentioned!

[Burning Sky Cloud]

Dang! Big Mac went all out on them Varmin. He ain't 'fraid of taking them on. Only now, this will most definitely will give Miss Preda the advantage she needs should them Varmin go to her and report what happened. All down hill from here I s'ppose.
About time somepony kicked their flanks though! I am quite curious about that white ring around Clutter's eye. Is that a birthmark? As predicted though, Jubilee has given up and is ready to lose the farm. How has someone like Preda been able to takeover the town with such ease anyway?

[SweetCaptain77]

That rat was smart.

[Amethyst Blade]

[Shameless Autism]

He scares me now.

[SWEETOLEBOB18]

The Grumble brothers exchanged a glance, then nodded. “Good. I am so glad we could come to this understanding. And just to show there’s no hard feelings, y’all can be guests...in.... my home’s cellar until that nag in Canterlot raises her moon tomorrow. Y’all have to enter discreetly, of course.” She paused with a smirk. “‘Discreetly’ means not knocking anything down or being seen. Clear?”

Rawley made a survivalist decision. Quick as a stink, he dove out of his chair and made for the door. Big Red was a might faster than he looked. His hoof stomped down on Rawley’s tail, mangling it. Squealing, Rawley turned and lunged with paws hooked into claws. The pony pivoted, and Rawley’s last clear view was a pair of soil-grimed hoofs rising to meet his face.

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=lyrics+give+me+three+steps&&view=detail&mid=6989BEF33563ED7B7DB46989BEF33563ED7B7DB4&&FORM=VRDGAR
Lyrics start about 1:00 into the video

[Rhettbutler]

Good old bar fight