Monday, November 2, 2015

pony noir | part four: a better vantage point

[part 1 : part 2 : part 3 : part 4]


Oh Celestia, the big galoot has always proved helpful, even when he doesn’t mean to be.

Name’s Stoney, Stoney Twinkle, and this is my story, I guess.

It started the way these things so often do, a worried mare walked into my office. It was an old yarn.

Her colt got caught up with a bad crowd, with all the typical trouble that brings. He hopped a train to the big bad city. She hadn’t heard head nor tail since. It should’ve been a simple trick to turn so I just let Hardy sleep it off.

Besides, I didn’t think the client could my rates and my bruiser’s too.

I started with the young punk’s shiftless associates. When dealing with vagrant young fellas, it helps to be pretty.

I’m still young enough to sparkle, wise enough to shine, as they say. Coat’s deep blue, and my mane’s a glossy black (at least up until recently). Big jet-black eyes don’t hurt the equation, it all adds up to an easy time with most stallions. For some reason, they never seem to notice the brain behind my wink.

Anyway, several winks later I got what I needed. The kid was into some bad stuff. Redrock’s nothing to sneeze at, but it was about to get weirder. It always does.

The kid hadn’t been quiet. He headed to Manehattan, somewheres dockside, to cut out the middle-pony and get his fix from the source.

That’s some damn dangerous shit to do. I needed to pull him out quick, but I also had some enemies in the area. I probably should’ve tracked down Hardy, but instead I colored my mane and rode the first train East.

I couldn’t quite put my hoof on it, but something about this was spooky. The kids seemed pale and shaky, even for molasses junkies. They were scared, too: almost too scared to care about my wink, almost.



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