Chapter One: Clinks DeLaney
Clinks DeLaney, what a character. A poor sap living - if you could call it that - in the streets of Manehattan. He's a blank flank, which stems a lot of ridicule from citizen and drifter alike. A brown coat, silver mane, and ice blue eyes, which grow ever colder as the days go by. He was a pony with a glance that could freeze a colt in his place. If he wasn't such a schmuck, he'd be the kind of pony others moved out of the way of. But as he is now, he's pushed and shoved around like some piece of trash in the gutter.
Equestria has changed in Clinks' time. Drastically, in fact. The living embodiments of the "Elements of Harmony" passed decades ago. With the passing of Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia has lost her luster, so it's said. She doesn't do much to regulate the land anymore. The Earth Ponies of the land have gotten sick of Unicorn "oppression" as they call it. They've created weapons that can counter any Unicorn magic. They call them firearms. Guns, boomsticks, there are lots of nicknames.
What with the lack of Princess Celestia, the Elements of Harmony, and the addition of guns, crime has skyrocketed. Especially in the big cities, you know, Manehattan, Fillydelphia, etc. Groups of criminals started to work together in things they call "gangs". Only a couple major gangs have risen up: the Manehattan Hatters, the Fillydelphia Grave Fillers, the Cloudsdale Kickers, and the Baltimare Hoof Stompers. These gangs have committed more crimes than anyone else in Equestrian history.
As it would turn out, Clinks' luck might have been looking up. Clinks sees a lot of ponies walk by him every day. Usually, they don't say a word to him. Usually. Today was different. Today was the first day in a few years that a voice directed toward him wasn't hostile or insulting. He was just sitting against a wall in an alleyway when he heard that voice.
"You're lookin' awful down on your luck, stranger", spoke a smooth voice. Clinks answered without looking up from his hooves.
"I've been lookin' awful down for a while, what's it to ya?"
"Well, you look like the kind of pony that could use a second chance at livin' the good life", said the voice. Clinks' ears perked up slightly.
"Usually I don't look like that kind of pony. What makes you think that?" he said.
"Well, stranger, I've seen a lot of ponies down in their luck. You look different from them", the stranger said. This confused Clinks, which got him sort of irritated.
"Look here, mister, if you have something to say to me, just say it. I'm sure I've heard a lot worse than what you've got in store. Go ahead, go nuts! I won't fire back", hissed Clinks.
"How about a job offer? Does that sound all that bad?"
"That all depends on the job. What are you offering?" Clinks said as he finally looked up at the smooth-talking pony above him. The pony had an orange coat with a red mane, slicked back into a pompadour style. The interesting thing, however, was the brand on the pony's shoulders. A top hat.
"Let's call it... a position in our 'Petty Robbery Department'. Yeah, that sounds professional", said the pony.
"Would you happen to be one of those 'gangsters' I've heard about over the years? You ponies ain't nothin' but big, steamin' piles of -" Clinks started.
"Well, pally, you ain't much a looker yourself. What do you say? You in?"
"That depends on who you are. What's your name?" said Clinks.
"My name... you can just call me Hotshot. Leader of the Manehattan Hatters", boasted Hotshot. Clinks looked at the pony in front of him. Broad shoulders, powerful legs and chest. He certainly looked like a powerful gangster, at least from what Clinks had heard. Clinks had never really done much for crime. Even though he was a poor pony living in a rich pony's city, he was never that desperate for bits.
He looked into his tin can, which he used for begging on the streets. Empty, as usual. He squinted hard, contemplating whether or not it was worth it. When he thought about it, he had everything to gain, but only one thing to lose. His life. This made him think some more. But when he really got down to it, losing his life didn't really mean much. He pretty much ruled out all the positives and negatives.
"You know what? I think I'll do it", Clinks said to Hotshot. As he said it, he stood up.
"That's what I like to hear!" yelled Hotshot, extending a hoof. Clinks looked down at it, and then to his own hoof. He shook Hotshot's hoof and the two started to walking. As they walked, they talked about how Clinks got into his situation on the streets.
* * * * *
Clinks was born in an upper-middle class district of Manehattan. He was relatively well-off when he was a young colt. He went to a good school, had good friends, good parents, he was happy. Happy, besides the fact that he didn't have a cutie mark. He was told that when he found his special talent, he would get a cutie mark. He was plenty good at all sorts of things. Tennis, racquetball, violin, you name it. He still, however, didn't have a cutie mark.
He was ridiculed his entire life by the kids who already had their cutie marks, although his friends were the exception. The ridicule became too much for Clinks, and he went up to one of his bullies and kicked him in the face as hard as his legs could muster. The young colt was in the hospital for months, and his parents sued Clinks' parents for assault. The other pony's parents won the case, and Clink's family lost everything.
After a few years on the streets, Clinks' parents abandoned him. They said they were going to beg on the corner of Mane Street and Hoofington Avenue. After a few hours, Clinks went to check the street corner and they weren't there. He sat down and he waited. And he waited and waited. You could say the poor colt was still waiting when Hotshot came and picked him up. After a couple years of waiting, he became cold and unhappy. He wouldn't talk to anyone and when he did, it was only:
"Celestia bless you for your kindness", when he was given a bit or two. The stress of living poor and alone got to his mane, as well. He was born with a shining golden blonde mane. Over the years, it deteriorated to a dull grayish silver color. He never was the same colt he was before he kicked that young colt all those years ago. Just goes to show how much an effect one dumb move can have on the rest of your life, doesn't it?
* * * * *
"That's a harsh story you've got there, Clinks. I wish it hadn't happened", said Hotshot. Clinks looked away. He'd never told anyone that story, he didn't like to repeat it to anyone. It made him upset. Not the kind of upset that brings a tear to your eye, but the kind of upset that wrenches your stomach with guilt. He knew his life was his fault.
"So do I. It's all my fault though. Had I not socked that kid in his sniffer I'd be livin' the good life like I did when I was a little colt, back when times weren't so tough for old Clinks DeLaney that he'd be committin' petty crimes for dough", replied Clinks. Hotshot looked a little hurt at that statement.
"You know, Clinks, for a pony who's been livin' down in the dumps, you sure are against crime. You'd think a pony like you'd have robbed at least a general store or somethin', eh? Not a single crime to your name?" asked Hotshot. Clinks looked at his hooves.
"I tried to rob a store this one time. I had a knife and no plan. I walked in there, demanded some money, and when they put it on the counter, I apologized to the cashier for bein' so rude and walked out of the store. I made sure to drop the knife in a gutter drain, too. I ain't really one for crimes."
"Well that's gonna have to change, Clinks. I don't like puttin' ponies in situations where they ain't comfortable, but you did take the offer", said Hotshot consolingly. Clinks didn't look up from his hooves as he replied.
"I know, I'm gonna have to do some things that don't quite sit right in my soul. But a colt's gotta do what a colt's gotta do, isn't that right, Hotshot?"
"That's right. That's a good motto to live by, Clinks. Maybe I should use it some time?" asked Hotshot.
"Be my guest, it ain't copyrighted", said Clinks with a smirk. That made Hotshot snicker a little. For what he's been through, Clinks was a pretty funny guy. He still found it in him to crack a joke every now and again. But his jokes were few and far between. Hotshot decided it was about time to introduce Clinks to the crew in the gang. Clinks looked at himself and thought he might want to get washed up first.
"Don't wanna meet someone lookin' like a greasy rag", he said. Hotshot took Clinks to his apartment to have a shower and something to eat - neither of which Clinks objected to - and then they went to meet the crew.
Author's Note
I've never written anything like this before. If you have any criticism, please tell me, as it's late and I haven't reread this as well as I should've.
