“Mr. Deal, there’s a mare downstairs to see you.”

I shook the sleep from my head quickly, hoping Day Planner hadn’t noticed. One day’s bed rest, and I was dozing on the job. There were reasons I avoided vacations, and slipping into laziness was high on that list. The gray light of a rainy day seeping through the office windows hadn’t helped any. I’d been having another of those vivid dreams when Day woke me. That morning, it had been sitting smugly while those who threatened my authority broke themselves on the impenetrable empire I had built. My citizens within went about the work I gave them, completely unconcerned for their safety. And why should they be concerned? I was handling it, after all. I didn’t need to be Princess Luna to understand this one—having Bruises on my side had reassured me.

I set aside a paper I had yet to touch as though I were marking where to pick back up, and hoped Day Planner wouldn’t catch on, then rose from my seat. “Did she say what it’s about?”

Day nodded, but her lips drew back in a slight grimace. “About the day before yesterday. She didn’t say anything more, and given the scuffle you were in that day with Ms. Parapet, it seemed likely to require your attention.”

“No doubt. Thank you, Day. I’ll go talk to her.” Frowning, I walked past Day Planner and toward the door. It occurred to me as I reached for the handle that Day had had to know I was asleep if she had handled somepony downstairs—it meant walking right past my desk. If she had no quip about my work ethic or efficiency, I had a bad feeling this was going to be unpleasant. On the way down the stairs, I rather wished I’d had Bruises stay in a guest bedroom. The clank of those huge hooves on the cast-iron staircase behind me would’ve been reassuring.

Standing at the bar and tapping a hoof impatiently was a sand colored mare, with almost no difference in color between her coat and short but loose hanging mane. A loose vest hung open on her withers, and a quick look revealed a lock and key cutie mark. On any other day, I’d assume a locksmith. Right now, I was leaning toward a burglar. I got to within a couple of feet of my bar with her just staring daggers before she spoke, but when she did, pleasantries were well off the agenda.

“Ya wrecked three o’ our boys day before last, mate.” I blinked, surprised. Lovely voice, Trottingham accent so thick you could cut it with a knife. Not what I had in mind. “One brought the other two in, then took off like a hare. Skipped town, ‘e did. ‘Is mates ‘e brought back ‘avent woke up yet. Boss figgers you owe us.”

I scowled for just an instant before clapping a hoof to my face. Everypony knew Manehattan had more organized crime than any other city in Equestria, give or take Las Pegasus—in fact in The Tall Tail’s first couple of years, I’d had to pay “protection,” so I knew the game—but to be this brash was just stupid.

“Really? You come into my club, talk with a secretary who can identify you, hang around to talk to me, and then try your hoof at extortion? Are you new at this, or just incredibly slow?” The tables for watching the show were to my right, and the doors were past those. The mare wasn’t a pegasus. If she thought she’d just slip out after that sort of threat, she had another thing coming.

Stupid or not, her expression turned dark when I called her out. “Right. Payment in damages, then. You ‘ave a good one, mate. Tomorrow, things get ugly.”

The mare reared and twisted to leave at a run, but I reached out and caught her vest. Slowed her down for all of 10 seconds, most of that sneering after I let go, bleeding from a cut just above the hoof. There was a knife in her mouth that hadn’t been there before, and a glare in her eyes that seemed somehow out of place with the rest of her expression. I stared in disbelief at my cut as she mocked me, forming words around the knife. “Tighter ya hold a rose, deeper the thorns go. Be glad you let loose quick, mate.” Again, she turned to bolt, but this time I just let her go.

* * * * *

My cut had been shallow, easily cleaned and bandaged. In fact, I’d gotten back to work after letting the mares in the building know that until problems were sorted, nopony but Bruises or I were to open the doors. It really was just a scratch. I could even walk on it fine, though running was a bit of a stretch. Pirouette and Jade hadn’t seen it the same way, of course. Each wanted me looked at by a proper doctor. It was Bruises, though, who was most upset. Bruises was livid. I’d had to tell her twice not to stomp on my hardwood floors, as strong as she was.

I sat at the bar before opening, nursing a cider, while Bruises paced back and forth angrily. “I can’t believe she cut you, Boss! When I find her, I’ll stomp her so flat… they’ll… they’ll… I don’t know, but she’ll be really flat!”

I just smiled and shook my head as I sipped my drink. I’d already agreed to let her stay at the cabaret until matters were settled. There wasn’t a lot more I could do but wait right now.

“We should go after ‘em, boss! I’ll show ‘em not to mess with you!” Rocked back on her haunches, Bruises thrust her massive hooves in some seriously dangerous punches. I’ve no doubt her imaginary enemy regretted ever meeting my angry bouncer. I opened my mouth to calm her, but it was Day Planner’s voice I heard first, coming from the stairs.

“She has a point, Mr. Deal. If you can end this early, it behooves everypony. And really, between her physical force and your… unique gift, I doubt you’ve much to fear.” Day Planner continued down the stairs, a stylish but understated hat on her head, and a warm jacket on her back.

“Pride cometh, blah, blah, blah, Day. You have a safe trip home.” Dealing with Bruises was one thing. The excitable mare was amusing. If Day Planner disagreed with me, I’d be lucky to escape without her drawing up graphs to demonstrate why she was right. To my dismay, Day Planner halted.

“You’re dealing with street thugs, Mr. Deal, not Queen Chrysalis. I of all ponies would advise caution if I thought it were necessary.” Day stared at me, inviting dissent. I didn’t dare.

I leaned back against the bar, exasperated. “Suppose I agree. How am I supposed to find her? Manehattan’s a big city; I can’t just go picking fights with ponies who look at me funny.”

Bruises walked around between Day Planner and me. “She’s Desert Rose.”

In unison, Day Planner and I asked, “What?”

Bruises shrugged. “Desert Rose. Everypony knows who she is in my part of town. Well, my old part of town. She’s… like Day Planner! Except for a pony with lots of ponies from Trottingham, making trouble.”

Day Planner sniffed. “I am not an errand girl.” Her wounded expression was amusing, but I wasn’t done being amazed that Bruises know the mare who cut me.

“Bruises, how’s she like Day Planner, and how do we find her?” I rubbed my furrowed brow with a hoof. This still seemed like an awful idea, but it never hurt to know what I was up against.

Bruises sat in front of me and pointed back the direction we’d come when I’d first hired her. “She’s the smart one in the Trottingham ponies that boss everyone around back there. She’s pretty easy to find, I guess. If her boss doesn’t send her places, she’s usually just a block or two from where I lived. Ponies go to her at the old hotel and pay, so they get left alone.”

I sighed. Dealing with this head on was a terrible idea. Dealing with it the way I was planning to was even stupider.

The last of my cider went down in one pull. “Alright. We’ll handle it first thing in the morning. Hit them before they hit us, right?”

Day Planner nodded, and finally opened the door. “I’ll have your work prepared for you after lunch, then, Mr. Deal.” With an approving smile, she was out the door and gone.

With no competition for my attention, Bruises patted my back hard enough to stagger me off my stool. “Yeah! We’ll show ‘em, boss! I’ll pound her flatter than… oh! A pancake!”

Shaking my head and trying not to laugh at poor, earnest Bruises, I set my glass on the bar for Jade to deal with when the club opened. “Hop to it, Bruises. First night on the job with me around to fuss at you.” I made a mental note to have some kind of dress made to suit her before long. As big as she was, she threw off the vibe a bit, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

Nodding effusively, Bruises trotted to the door. “I won’t give you any reason to fuss, boss!”

I marched up the stairs, back to my office and apartment and called back, “Good girl, Bruises.” It was hard not to feel a bit guilty. She was there at the door, eager to work, determined I’d have no complaints—and I was getting ready to give her every reason to complain at me.

* * * * *

I navigated the seedy side of Manehattan, doing my best to stay in the pitch dark. It was certainly harder to see, but making it hard to be seen was critical. Waiting for tomorrow wasn’t an option. If we left early and missed them in passing, The Tall Tail would be a ruin when we got back. If Bruises rebuffed them, I couldn’t count on Desert Rose still being where Bruises said she’d be. And as risky as this was, I wasn’t about to leave Pirouette, Jade, and the girls unguarded tonight. This really was the worst idea.

I headed back down dirty streets, past broken porches and the occasional mare or stallion on guard for their own well being. So far, so good. My heart thumped in my chest fit to give me away in the shadow of Bruises’ old building, and for some reason breathing seemed more difficult than normal, but I kept going, looking around non-stop for anypony that might make trouble. A single one, and I’d have to dash for the shadows, and probably forget the whole idea. As I twisted my ankle on a loose cobblestone, I held down a curse, and wished badly for my private table in the back of my beautiful cabaret.

How ponies lived in this part of town, I didn’t know. What I did know was that when I was through with Manehattan, places like this would be a bad memory. But first, I had to track down the ponies who were putting my dreams in danger. Trying weight on my ankle hurt a bit, but didn’t warrant crying out, so I forced myself not to limp, relieved that the twist and the cut from Desert Rose weren’t on the same leg. If somepony did see me out here, an appearance of weakness was the last thing I needed—after having my cabaret trashed, anyway.

Since passing Bruises’ building, I’d kept an even closer watch out for any signs of trouble, and actually felt a small bit of pride when approaching voices sent me deeper into shadows before I was close enough to be at risk. Pride was forgotten quickly however when I heard what the approaching ponies were saying.

“Bloody Manehattan git. You lot trot about like yer arses smell ‘o roses. You wait. The boss won’t last forever, an’ then it’ll be our turn on top!” The unicorn speaking seemed, for everything he said, to have a lot more he didn’t dare say.

The earth pony taking the abuse wasn’t impressed. “Hah, horseapples. You think just because Rose is from Trottingham she’s stupid enough to tear the crew apart just because she talks like you? She barely even remembers Trottingham. If our ‘arses’ smell like Rose, it’s because she’s got her muzzle up them.”

“Motherbucker!” The unicorn snapped, and knocked his so called ally out of the moonlight and into a shadow cast by a nearby abandoned warehouse. Couldn’t blame him, really; it was nothing to do with me, and I still wanted to knock the bastard’s smug muzzle off his face. I slipped out of shadow long enough to run past where those goons had been wandering (patrolling?) and into new darkness far ahead. My mind was moving twice as fast as my hooves, though. A schism in the ranks was something I could use.

One shadow led to another, and my mind drifted back to the cabaret again. I wondered if Pirouette had noticed me missing yet, and if Bruises was handling it well—the girls treated her well, but one nasty customer without me to encourage her… the space between pleasant customer and somepony to toss out the door was broad, and it worried me. I belonged back there, making sure my girls were doing alright, and my baby was safe.

I sighed in the darkness of a high wall’s shadow. I was keeping my baby safe, and making sure my girls did alright. That’s why I was out here in the dark.

“Oy! ‘Oo’s there?”

Ponyfeathers. All this, and a sigh gave me away? I ran away from the voice, not checking for more shadows to hide in. No time for it. Given two hurt legs, I was fairly pleased with how quickly the voice behind me faded into the distance. I smiled as I ducked my head to avoid a low tree branch—which suddenly glowed yellow and ducked itself. I ran face first into a thick branch, twisted my already-twisted ankle trying to recover, and ended up rolling to a halt on the cobblestones. It only took a second for me to recover my bearings, but getting to my hooves again was another matter. I was halfway there when a yellow unicorn mare and a brown earth pony stallion caught up, the first holding a knife in a magical grip, and the second facing away, ready to buck me into next week. Cutie marks in woodworking and… dear Celestia, I hadn’t even realized there were cutie marks in kicking. I lay back down.

“Right, wot’ve we got ‘ere, mate?” The unicorn was the one who’d called out when she heard my sigh, and spoke first, looking more than a little proud of her catch.

“Buck if I know, but ‘at’s a posh li’l cap ‘e’s got, innit?”

I sighed and forced myself to relax. There was no way to take charge of this situation, but if I got lucky and played my cards right, they could keep control and still leave me coming out on top. I tossed my hat to Brown, sighing internally about having to buy two fedoras in a week. At this rate, I’d have to talk with Day Planner about adding a “hats” line to our budget.

I managed to keep my voice even, despite the knife and hooves ready to disappear me. “Peace offering. I’m here to talk business. I want to see Desert Rose.” First rule of being at a disadvantage is don’t act like it.

Both ponies blinked in surprise, looked to each other and back to me. The knife lowered, but wasn’t put away. Brown had sat down to adjust his new hat with both forehooves. If the unicorn wasn’t in charge, she was certainly the talkative one. “So you wanna see Rose. An’ wot says she wants to see you, chum? Girl’s got a busy schedule; no time in it for some bloody berk runnin’ about in the dark.”

I held up the leg Rose had cut earlier. The bandage hadn’t been changed, and between the moonlight and the glow of the unicorn’s horn, seeing a line of crimson on it wasn’t difficult. “She gave me this. I’ve got an offer that’ll more than settle things, if she’s willing to put a little effort into it.”

The unicorn scowled, but put away her knife and turned back the way I’d come, tossing her short mane disdainfully. “Effort’s Rose’s middle name, bloke. You’d best hope she thinks yer worth putting a bit in. She don’t like waking this time o’ night.”

I managed to relax further as a relieved sigh escaped my lips, and I forced myself up, no longer able to avoid a slight limp. The walk wasn’t long—the building by which I’d been discovered was an old hotel, Rose’s base of operations. So close. I was led inside past only a couple of hostile glares. Most of the gang was asleep or out on “business,” I guessed. The inside of the building was hardly any better than the outside: dated, and falling apart on top of that. At last, Yellow stopped in front of a nondescript door and banged her hoof against it. Desert Rose may have had respect and authority, but as far as I could tell, she had none of the trappings of them.

“Oy, Rose! You up? Caught some fool in the dark, said ‘e ‘as business with ya.”

The voice on the other side of the door was groggy, annoyed, and not even a little receptive. “Buck, Whittle, it’s two in the mornin’! I got business with nopony this time o’ night!”

The knife was back out in an instant, and as preoccupied as Brown had been with my fedora, he was on alert again now. “Bad news, mate. Looks like you lost yer gamble. Now how’re we gonna play this?”

Nothing to lose now. I didn’t really care to lay bare my offer this way, but it beat having my organs laid bare. “Desert Rose, are you saying you’re alright with how your Trottingham crew gets treated? A little work, a deal, and I think we could fix things for you… uh, ‘lot.’” I wanted to facehoof. Of all the bad times for my silly habit of adopting slang to rear its head.

Silence. Whittle’s grin got nastier, but then a bolt was thrown, and Desert Rose stuck her head out, disheveled and blinking. Her praise was groggy and grudging. “Ya got brass ones, mate, sayin’ that shit here. Lucky you, I only keep me Trotties this close. Get yer arse in here. You as well, Whittle. New boy, watch the door.”

I stepped into Desert Rose’s room, Whittle right behind me, and the door shut. The mix of girly and tidy against deadly and deteriorating was bizarre. Carefully arranged knives lay on a clean doily on a table missing a leg. A painting of a countryside, expertly done, was framed in rotting oak, hung from a cracked wall. These were opportunities for me.

“Right, Done. You ‘ad your chance yesterday, today we smash. Why should I ‘ear you out, mm?” Desert sat on her bed, leaving me to stand in the center of the small room, Whittle to my side, toying with her knife. As much as possible in this meager room, she was putting me at a disadvantage. No wonder she was the gang’s “Day Planner.”

I couldn’t use the smoke with both mares in the room. One would knife me before I got anywhere. Straight sell, then. My left ear twitched. “You know those two who didn’t wake up after messing with me? Whittle here can tell you I couldn’t swing that. She heard me, and I was off like a rabbit.”

Whittle laughed and leaned up against the wall on her hind legs. “An’ into a tree branch, like an idiot.”

I bit my tongue. Patience was beyond necessary. “Pretty much. I’m a businesspony. My job is to pay ponies to do my job. The one who smashed the pu—ponies who attacked me is my bouncer, Parapet. I hear you’re number two here. Why? It didn’t even take me a day to hear you’re the one who keeps things going right in this gang. Call off the attack on my cabaret, make a mutually beneficial deal with me, and I can give you what you need to change the balance. Or are you happy with cracked walls and broken tables, Desert Rose? Your doilies say you’re not.”

Rose actually flushed at my accusation and narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t know a ‘orseapple from apple pie, but on the off chance that addled pate ‘o yours can churn out something we can use, let me educate you, ‘gov.’”

Desert Rose got up and pulled out a list of some sort from her dresser. Lots of names, some in blue ink, some in red. I guessed some sixty percent were red. “That’s our roster. Red is Maneys. Locals. Blue is Trotties. Me mates. Born Leader brings in just as many new Maneys as ‘e ‘as to to keep the balance against us. Now ‘ere’s the fun part, so keep sharp, mate. This gang was ten Maneys just twenty years back. Born and his boys grow this crew one way: Trottingham orphans. We’re taught pickpocketing and petty theft ‘fore we even ‘ave cutie marks. The ‘good’ ones join the crew once we’re too old for the guard to let us off light. Not that anything really changes—the Maneys still get the best, and we get wot’s left.”

Sharp eyes stared me down as she put the list away. “Right then. Give us yer wonderful plan, mate, because I’ve been way too friendly tonight, and if it’s no good, it’s more’n your club you’ll be missin’ today.

I’ll admit it. I swallowed hard. “So you’re outnumbered. Even when Born Leader kicks it, you stay number two, if you’re lucky. Am I right? What if you add a variable? Say Parapet and I get rid of Born Leader. I’m a ‘Maney,’ born and bred. What would happen?”

Desert Rose laughed. “You really think you an’ your girl can pull that off? Let’s suppose you did, berk. There’d be a split. Some o’ the Maneys would call you boss, some would want one they know on top, an’ nuts to you; and some would likely come to me. It don’t help anything; it just makes a mess.”

I shook my head. “You’ve seen The Tall Tail. This isn’t my style. If one in six join you, you’ve got even numbers, even ignoring my slice. And if I tell my slice I’m just in it for the business, and that you’re the one who brought me in…”

Rose’s eyes got wide. “I’d ‘ave enough to take over proper!” Sharp as the knives on her table, though, her eyes narrowed right back down. “First, ‘ow do I know you can manage? Second, wot’s innis fer you, mate?”

I stretched, much more comfortable with those questions than I’d have been before explaining the schism. “I can manage one pony, at least if I know what I’m into. Parapet can manage all the rest on her own. Especially since more than expected are going to be on business tomorrow.”

Desert Rose frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I don’t want my cabaret torn apart. I don’t even want a hint of trouble in my part of town; it’s bad for business. You get yours to get in the way of any Maneys headed out. Keeps my place safe, and thins out any ponies I have to deal with to handle Born Leader. Celestia, that can’t be his real name.”

Rose laughed, a single derisive snort. “It’s all ‘e’s gone by since ‘e kidnapped me twenty back. Don’t doubt you’re right though; even as a filly it wasn’t ‘im holding this together, just callin’ the shots. Suppose I’m in. That’s still gonna be a good… ten Maneys ‘angin’ about his place, and three or four Trotties. Plus me.”

I shrugged. “Parapet can handle ten. And you can call off your three when you see I’m right.”

Desert Rose sat back on her bed and folded her forelegs, thinking. “It ‘as to be you, beats the boss down. An’ ‘e can’t get up again. Sure you can handle that? Your flunkie beats the boss down, it makes you look bad. Whole thing could sour.”

I nodded. “I’ve got demands too.” Whittle glared but held her place against the wall. “You want better than this for you and yours, right? I’ll give that to you, but it’s gonna take time. I want Manehattan to shine. The whole thing, no bad side of town. I can’t have that if gangs are making too much trouble. So the deal is this: You mop up and keep down any Maneys that didn’t take your side. I start opening businesses on the edge of the rough part. You keep ‘em safe and sound, and I guarantee you and yours real jobs. You can keep the ‘family’ together if that’s what it is; I don’t mind that. You try to start a protection racket, and we have a problem. Who knows, maybe in five years that part of town will be called the Trottie Quarter. Months pass, money flows, I open more businesses. You want to open shops or something, be my guest. I want this area to shine. You in?”

Desert Rose started at me like I was insane, and I could practically feel Whittle’s knife cut my throat. But then Rose rolled onto her bed, laughing her ass off. “Deal, Deal. I must be bloody insane, but you dream big, and ‘at’s what I’ve been missin’ in me crew. You bring us a better life, an’ I don’t care if I’m queen o’ this part o’ town, I’ll bow right down.”

Whittle looked back and forth between her boss and me, incredulous. “Rose, are you sure? We don’t even know this berk, and you’re castin’ in with him like that?

Desert Rose nodded. “’ow do ya think Born Leader got there, Whittle? It wasn’t talent. It was a big dream, the balls to try it, an’ the money to get those wot could make it happen. I’m bettin’ Deal ‘ere’s got all that.”

Whittle sighed at the floor, then looked up at Rose. “You’ve been watchin’ over me since I was six, Rose. You say he’s good, then he’s good.”

Desert Rose smiled at Whittle. “Atta girl. See ‘im ‘ome safe, an’ show ‘im the boss’s place on a map. Sleep quick, Deal. You’re any later’n nine in the mornin’, and everything’s off—likely as not, both our heads, as well.”

I turned to leave, but Rose called me back, one of the three knives on her table now trapped between her teeth. She flicked it at me, so slowly I caught it in my forehooves without much trouble. “For luck. Get goin’.”

* * * * *

Pirouette was livid, and Bruises cried with relief when she saw me limp up to the door of the Tall Tail at first light. I’d had to sit them both down and explain as quickly as possible while Whittle worked on a bottle of cider and played with her knife. Bruises had excitedly accepted, eager to “fix ‘em for messin’ with Boss!” Pirouette was substantially less enthused. And Day Planner, in ungodly early for some reason, muttered that I had over complicated the process, and that starting the next day, she was scheduling time for me to experiment with my smoke, since if I’d done that in the first place, I could perhaps have prevented all of this. When Whittle asked what the buck that supposed to mean, I evaded the question. No sense complicating it even further.

All of that seemed like a pleasant dream as I stared down an old two story house in the middle of the worst part of Manehattan. It was time. Bruises was honestly excited next to me, the silly mare. I felt guilty. She’d be doing all of the work. “It’s time, Bruises. Those two at the front door? Just flatten ‘em, and keep going. Anypony who picks a fight, drop ‘em however you want, but keep moving. Their boss is upstairs. I have to deal with him alone. Try to keep everypony from seeing. I’m asking a lot Bruises. Will you be alright?”

The huge mare nodded, smiled, and took off for the door without waiting, leaving me limping behind to catch up. By the time I’d reached the door, its guards lay on the ground, unmoving, and Bruises was dealing with three more inside. Guilty as I felt about it, I hung back. She seemed to be managing alright, her huge hooves swatting aside baseball bats with ease, and I had to be at my meager best for what was ahead.

A bat finally landed a blow on Bruises’ back, and I winced, but Bruises simply blinked in surprise, ripped the bat from the hooves of the mare who’d swung it at her, and used it to knock her clean across the room. I winced again, this time at the body count—something I’d forgotten to think about beyond Born Leader. In seconds, Bruises was finished, and I entered the room. Unlike what I’d seen of Desert Rose’s headquarters, this house was in perfect repair indoors. Expensive furniture provided a classy look that would’ve been at home in a VIP lounge at The Tall Tail, if I had one, and crystal ornaments dotted one wall. The weathered look outside was a ruse; Born Leader lived as well as I did. Gently, I patted the spot Bruises had taken a hit. “You okay, there?”

She looked surprised I’d asked. “Huh? Oh, the bat. It was pretty annoying. I’m okay though, Boss!” I smiled, grateful for her endurance and cheer.

I heard Rose’s voice upstairs shouting “’round the boss! Form a wall! No pony gets through!” The notion that she’d double-crossed me came to mind, but I pushed it down. If she had, Bruises would see to her, too. No telling what would come of The Tall Tail in that case, but Desert Rose would certainly pay for it. I forced the thought aside. I couldn’t change anything now, and finding out was simple.

“Up we go, Bruises. Remember, don’t hit anypony who doesn’t try to hit us. And… if you can, try to keep eyes off me.” I wanted to make as few explanations as I possibly could. “Let’s go.”

The words were no sooner out of my mouth than Bruises was bounding up a spiral staircase with me limping up behind. The scene at the top was about what I’d expected: ten ponies, mixed between species, armed with bats, knives, and even one old guard’s spear. Whittle was there in the formation, just left of center, her face betraying nothing. They had formed an arc, curved away from us and toward Rose and an older stallion unicorn who had to be Born Leader, seated at a desk nearly as nice as mine. The picture window behind him nagged at me a bit—all of the windows at The Tall Tail showed only other buildings nearby. His had a view of a park, dilapidated though it was.

“That’s one hell of a ace up your sleeve, boy.” Born Leader rose slowly, levitating a machete from the surface of his desk. “Do you really think she can handle all twelve of us at once, though? I’ve been doing this a while. You’re not the first pony to come for me. Even the city guard gave up. I’ll spoil the ending for you. “You’re fucked.”

With Bruises between me and the small army ahead, I allowed myself to close my eyes and take a deep breath. If the guard was allowing Manehattan to fall apart over here this way, I’d have to deal with that, too. I felt like Day Planner had just dropped a thick stack of paperwork on my desk, and sighed. “Every day, if I get the chance. Bruises, go!”

As soon as Bruises rushed forward, Whittle and two other ponies broke ranks, running to stand with Desert Rose, weapons drawn, all four of them with their backs to a corner. Bruises charged into the gap they’d created, batting ponies around like a cat with a ball of yarn, but taking hits herself, as well. I held my position, looking for a way through the melee, but the melee found me: Born Leader, gray mane or not, bounded onto his desk, and used Bruises’ back as a stepping stone to get at me!

Bruises turned to look back at me where I backed up, startled. “Hey! I’m not for jumping on!” I winced as a bat hit Bruises in the back of the head while she was distracted. “Ow! Which one of you—ow I said!” Before I turned my focus on Born Leader, one of the two ponies to land telling hits on Bruises sailed through the room, landing motionless at the top of the stairs. I had no more attention to spare for anypony but myself.

Remembering what I’d asked of her, I yelled, “Bruises! Eyes!” and turned my undivided focus on Born Leader just in time to duck a slash from that floating machete. My hurt ankle ached, slowing me down, and I was no fighter to start with. Once again I reminded myself that this really was the worst plan ever. Another slash, narrowly sidestepped, and a third that would’ve cut my hat, had I not given it up the night before. I didn’t have much time to wait. If Bruises didn’t do something soon, I was in trouble. At least I could choose for the trouble not to be deadly.

“Aaaaaaaragh!” Past Born Leader’s head, I saw Bruises jump up, lift herself to the roof with her magic, and bolster her stomp by tossing herself at the floor. As soon as those devastating hooves struck, the sound of cracking wood filled the house, and Bruises dropped through the floor, taking the entire mob with her—only the Trotties, safe in their corner, remained. The Trotties, Born Leader, and myself.

Completely dismissive of me, Born Leader looked over his shoulder and shook his head. “You played your ace too early.” With a lunge, Born Leader tackled me, and brought the machete up to bring me down.

Desert Rose’s voice came from the back of the office, blocked from helping by the gaping hole. “Shite.”

With a stomp on my shoulder, Born Leader growled, “You’re next, Rose. And after everything I’ve done for you.”

I remembered the dilapidated accommodations Rose and her crew lived in. I remembered that Whittle had been kidnapped and made to steal from age six. I remembered the hopeless looks on ponies’ faces the day I’d gone to meet Bruises. “Done for her? Hey, Born. If somepony plays their ace early, it’s because they’ve got a trump.” I pushed all the smoke I could possibly grasp from every inch of my body, a pony sized black smoke bomb in an enclosed space, and bit at the handle of the knife Rose had given me, strapped to a leg by the bandage her cut had forced on me the day before. Without a second’s hesitation, I thrust it up while Born Leader coughed. The machete dropped next to my head, and I heard glass shatter from the direction of the Trotties.

I pushed the gasping unicorn off of me as the smoke cleared, wafting out the shattered picture window, and stood over him as he bled from a cut to the neck. It would do the job, given time. Staring down at him, I wondered if he were the whole cause of the bad part of Manehattan. “Hey, Rose.”

Rose waved away wisps of smoke with a hoof, opening her eyes at last to see me over her bleeding boss. “Yeah?”

“You said he can’t get up, no matter what, right?”

With the deed about to happen right in front of her, Desert Rose was no longer quite so glib. “Yeah. No option.”

I raised my uninjured foreleg over Born Leader’s throat. Manehattan was going to shine again, all of it. Because it was mine. My hoof fell.

* * * * *

Ponies rushed in and out of the house, carrying news and orders and responses to and from all over Manehattan, but somehow Desert Rose made coordinating her takeover look easy. Day Planner of the gang, indeed. Early in the groups of ponies brought upstairs were Day Planner herself, and Pirouette, both looking a bit put out at being held at knifepoint.

After shaking my head, I told Rose, “Those two are mine. Leave them be.”

Rose simply nodded and went back to her tasks, with Whittle handling the work of getting the captors to “shove off,” as she put it.

“What in Celestia’s name are you two doing here?” I asked incredulously. They were certainly welcome sights, but neither of them belonged in this part of town, much less here.

“You know, Mr. Deal, not long after you left, it occurred to me: I’ve never seen a gang war. I’d have been here sooner, but Pirouette didn’t want to come. It took far too long to convince her that her dancers actually could train for an hour or two alone.

Pirouette glared at Day Planner. “Convince nothing! You dragged me by the tail, right up until you… you dragged me by the tail!”

Day Planner smiled innocently. “Right up until I told her that if she didn’t come, she might never see you again, Mr. Deal. From that point on, it was difficult to keep up with her.”

Pirouette blushed. I couldn’t resist rubbing it in a bit. “Aww… you’re such a sweetheart, Pirouette.” Grinning ear to ear, I gave Pirouette a hug. She blushed further, but remained silent.

Rose chose that moment to look up during a pause in her runners. “Oy, Deal. That thing you did, with all the smoke. Just wot in Tartarus was all that?”

Pirouette and Day Planner spoke over each other. “Trade secret.” “Sleight of hoof!”

Rose frowned, but I shook my head. “That one’s mine, Rose. Maybe one day you’ll find out.”

She didn’t seem mollified, but Desert Rose let it go, turning her attention to the next runner.

The heat of the moment had kept me from thinking of her, and with the heat past, cautious monitoring of Rose’s thugs, but with Day Planner and Pirouette present, the obvious question revealed itself, and worried me. I walked to the edge of the hole in the floor and looked down. Sure enough, there was Bruises, a pile of ponies underneath her. I hoped they were part of the group that would’ve rejected Rose; none moved at all. “Hey down there! Are you alright, Bruises?”

My brave, sensitive bouncer looked up at me with tears in the corners of her eyes. “I’m okay, Boss.”

I frowned. “You should come up here then, with me.”

Bruises lowered her head and laid flat her ears. “…don’t wanna.”

Scarcely able to restrain her laughter, despite my worried expression, Day Planner explained. “Mr. Deal, we checked on her before we were caught. Parapet landed on a unicorn, with her whole weight. The wrong way.”

Her secret out, Bruises looked up and cried. “Boss, my plot hurts!”

I nearly fell down the hole.

Author's Note

Wait, what? No clop?! How can this be?! Relax, the next few chapters are plenty cloppy.

My sincere apologies to anyone with a real grasp of cockney slang, for whom my Trottingham dialect must be about as pleasant as a sandpaper Q-tip in the ear.