Fallout Equestria: Broken Hearts

Chapters

Morning Rain
Dark Ride
Bleak Day

Morning Rain

The rain was rolling down the windows in wet streaks when I woke up. It was a steady torrent that promised wet streets and a dank smell from the customers. I checked the cracked clock face and saw that it was 6:32 in the morning. I could sleep for a half hour more before being roused for breakfast, however I wanted a bath without having to wait in line. My roommate Lucky was still asleep and I was careful not to wake her.

The washroom was down the hall and knowing the way by heart I didn't need to turn on the hallway lights to get there. The tub was a large metal basin with rusty edges. I turned off the water once the tub was a quarter full. Our water use was limited even though Madame Dove made an under the counter deal to get more water than what was normally rationed to businesses along Pearl Street. I took my time bathing, soaking my coat and watched my tail float in the water between my backlegs. The water lapped at my flank where my mark was of a sea shell in sand.

While I scrubbed my tail with a soap, I thought about the day ahead. If the rain kept up till tonight, then business would be slow and I might be able to turn in early. Wait, no, nix that. There was a boat due from the mainland today, bringing in traders, merchants, explorers, brigands, tourists, and fortune seekers from the Equestrian Wasteland. Most of them will want to taste the local colors, or that was what Madame Dove liked to say whenever the boat came.

It would be a busy night after all because rain doesn't deter newcomers. It sends them indoors out of the wet cold and toward warm company such as myself and the other mares who work here. If I wanted to go to Slappy's store before the rush, I would need to get going.

I quickly wash and rinsed. After drying myself I headed to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. Much to my grief, Candy Hearts had came out of her room and was approaching the bathroom as I was leaving it. She was a lovely pink earth pony with a white and red mane and tail in the resemblance of a candy cane. On her flank was an image of wrapped candies. She gave me a derisive look, “Did you leave any water for the rest of us?”

I trotted past without looking at her and said, “There's plenty of water. You know that.” I wanted to say that there wasn't enough water in the world to wash away nasty, but that would throw us into an insult match and Madame Dove made it clear that she wouldn't tolerate anymore fights between us. Next time she would cut our wages for a month and I needed my money today.

Cookie, our resident cook, maid, and courier, was setting the table for breakfast when I arrived. “Mornin', Sandy.”

“Good morning, Cookie.” I sat down in my usual spot and waited patiently for breakfast.

Lucky slouch through the doorway just as Cookie was setting a plate of biscuits on the table. I helped myself to one, floating it to my plate with magic. She landed heavily on the bench next to me and then dropped her head on the table. She peeked at me at through her tangled mane and muttered, “Kill me.”

“Sorry, not today. Maybe tomorrow when the blood lust strikes me.” I nibbled my biscuit.

Lucky was the only pony in my life I could call a friend. She was a sweet happy drunk that would laugh at any joke, even if they were made at her expense. She was a unicorn like me, but a bit overweight around the middle. I could smell the booze that still stained her blue coat and her mangled green mane was in dire need of brushing. At her flank was a four leaf clover.

Cookie set a bowl of oatmeal before me and pushed a mug of steaming coffee towards Lucky. I thanked him and ate quickly, wanting to be out of there before Candy finished her bath. I didn't want her sitting at the same table with us trying to bait me. I nudged the blue unicorn, “You better sober up. Madame Dove is going to think you've been in the cellar again.”

“Good, then I can tell her that she needs to restock on the wine,” she mumbled as her hoof found the mug. She sipped it with a loud slurp. “Are you going out to get your book?”

“Yeah, Slappy said that it would be in today.” I levitated a spoonful of oatmeal to my mouth.

“He's probably just saying that to get you in his shop. You know he fancies you.” Lucky muttered over the mug's brim.

“Then he should save his caps then he can afford a half hour with me,” I snorted.

Lucky laugh, or cawed in a high nasal whine. “He was until Madame Dove raised the prices. He might have to settle for me or Cottontail. I hope it's me because I'll take care of him!” She cawed some more and her hoof whacked the table.

Though I hadn't finished eating, I needed to get out of there before Candy reared her pink head. I got up, “I'll chat with you later, but I really got to go.”

“Laters.” Lucky waved goodbye.

I trotted past Cottontail, a white earth pony with navy blue mane. She was the youngest member here and the newest addition to the brothel having came in last month from the mainland. I believe that she had came from Dise and was working here because her previous contract holder owed Madame Dove a favor or caps.

I gave her a quick greeting and trotted to the dressing room. We were allowed to go out onto Pearl Street on the condition that we advertise ourselves whenever we went out. Which means we dress up nice to tempt any potential customers into visiting the Prancing Filly later. With my magic I went to work styling my petal pink mane and tail. I sprayed sweet smelling perfume onto my soft blue coat and then selected an outfit. I chose fishnet stockings held up with black garters beneath a deep red dress. There were even matching ruby red slippers that fit my hooves snugly. Some blush and eye shadow completed the look. I even applied some mascara to make my eye lashes startling against my pale coat. Slappy was easily persuaded into discounts just by my flirting with him and I was hoping he would give me a big discount today.

Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I geared myself up to perform the task of approaching Madame Dove. In the mirror, I saw Candy Hearts walk in and study me critically, “You're going to need another layer of makeup.”

“Oh, if I used up all the makeup, then how can you cover up that thing that is your face?” I said sweetly as I brushed past her.

She retorted with something nasty which I ignored. Madame Dove's office was upstairs near the brothel rooms. She told me once that being high up gave her a sense of control of everything that happened on her premises. I was half way up the stairs when I paused in fright. Standing at the top of the stairs like a dark nightmare was a black minotaur.

His name was Ambrose and he worked as a bouncer for the Prancing Filly. He showed unruly customers the door and made certain that we came to no harm and kept us in line. Madame Dove said that he came from far away, from outside of Equestria. He wore dark breeches held up by a thick leather belt. I was familiar with that belt, as were other mares who ever displeased Madame Dove.

“Uh, is Madame Dove awake?” I asked so softly I barely heard myself.

He flicked an ear with a large gold hoop in it. “She's in her office.” His voice rumbled deep from his barrel chest.

“Thank you.” I quickly went past him and headed toward the door at the end of the long hall.

I knocked and waited until I was granted permission to enter. Madame Dove sat behind a huge desk with several stacks of caps before her. She was an aged white unicorn with auburn mane styled up into a cone. A large beauty mark was drawn beneath her left eye and a dangling necklace hung at her breast. She had a ledger open and her horn glowed as a pen scribbled numbers and notes.

“Good morning, Sandy Topps,” she said in a thick syrupy voice. She spoke to me with as a loving mother would, but it was empty, false. She didn't see any of us as her own foals, she saw us as a merchant would see merchandise or assets. “What can I do for you this morning?”

I had to choose my words carefully. I smiled brightly, hoping that she was in a good mood this morning. “I was hoping that instead of getting my wages tonight, that I might get them this morning. Slappy ordered a new book for me and he said that it might come in today so I was hoping I could buy it before it got too busy tonight?”

I kept my voice low and lilting. The same way a foal might ask her mother for a favor.

The pen settled in the groove between the ledger's pages and Madame Dove regarded me with silver eyes. I felt a shiver roll down my back, but I stayed where I was with a hopeful look on my face. It was several moments before she finally said, “You certainly look pretty enough to go out today, perhaps too pretty to march out there in the rain and get your dress wet.”

“I'll use an umbrella and I'll be very careful around puddles.” I made sure that my response wasn't too quick or blunt so she wouldn't take me for being insubordinate. It wasn't looking too good that she was suggesting I stay in today. I also added, “The boat might come in early and I can say hello to some of the tourists.”

That won her over. Anything that would draw in business had her blessing. “Oh alright, I suppose I can give it to you early this time, but don't make it a habit.”

With her magic, she picked up a small coin bag and floated twenty caps into it. I tried not to take it too eagerly when she floated the bag to me. I bowed my head graciously and thanked her. As I turned to leave, she stopped me, “Sandy, one moment, please.”

I froze and turned back with the coin bag floating above my head, “Ma'am?”

“You wouldn't know if any of the other mares are . . . holding back money, perchance?” She folded her fetlocks together and regarded me over them.

My heart skipped a beat.

Unlike what most ponies on the Pearl would think, the prostitutes of the Prancing Filly weren't paid much. Of all the thousands of caps paid by customers only a tiny percentage got into our purses and pockets. For you see, Madame Dove takes payment for room and board, food, clothing, water, medicine, and protection out of any money we generated sleeping with any stallion or mare with caps. Sometimes clients want to show their appreciation for our services with gifts. Mostly we would get flowers or candies, but sometimes a client may leave a few caps on the table beside the bed. Madame Dove doesn't have a problem letting us keep flowers or candies, but we sure as hell better hand over any caps or we had Ambrose to deal with.

“No, ma'am. I don't think anypony here would do that.” Or at least, I hope everypony here knew better than to try it.

She tapped the edge of her hoof against her chin thoughtfully, “But you would tell your old Madame Dove if you knew anything, right?”

I nodded, “Yes ma'am, but truly, I don't know anything.”

“You may go.” She waved me away and went back to studying her finances.

I quickly departed tucking the coin bag into a pocket on the inside of the dress. A bead of sweat roll down my cheek. Was there a pony holding back? I hoped not, because not only is that pony going to be due for a “chat” with Ambrose, but that could mean that Madame Dove will knuckle down on the rest of us by cutting back our wages or meals as a dire warning to each of us.

Wait, was she suspecting me because I asked to be paid early? No, no, if she suspected me, then she wouldn't let on that she knew something was amiss. She'd rather swoop on me like a hawk carrying off an unwary rabbit. I push my fears to the back of my mind and went downstairs. Ambrose arranged an escort for me and I went out onto Pearl Street with an umbrella floating over head.

My escort was an older, but tough pony who called himself Pistol Whip. He was a muddy color with a dark mane and a pistol for a cutie mark. Madame Dove recently hired him as extra security when a fight broke out among in the bar while Ambrose was upstairs dealing with a client insisting he paid for more time with Candy. He always wore shades and leather barding and was very quiet. When he spoke, which was rare, it was in a deep voice with a mainland accent.

When we stepped out into the rain I put on the mask I wore for customers. I smiled, winked, and fluttered my eyelashes at any ponies or mares that looked my way. I drew many admiring glances as we passed the shops, bars, and casinos of pearl street. When the Last Day happened, the vacation island of Sunny Days was spared from the Balefire Bombs. It remained isolated from the Equestrian mainland until several decades ago when ponies began reclaiming the Wasteland, merchants from Dise came and reopen the shops and casinos bringing Sunny Days back to life with tourism and gambling.

On the street corner, I saw two small foals tipping over a garbage bin. We stopped to wait for a cart to roll down the street and I watched them sift through the trash for bits of food. I saw myself in them. Years ago, I was going through the trash of the wealthy to find any leftover food. Were the foals sleeping under the bridge at the outskirts of Pearl Street on a folded cardboard box with a plastic bag as a blanket like I did? One of the foals noticed my watching them and made a face at me. I stuck my tongue at him and took delight that it surprised him. Then a whistle blew and both foals scampered away as a shop keeper galloped up. He gave them a halfhearted chase before turning back to the fallen trash bin and set it straight.

My escort cleared his throat and I noticed the street was clear now. We continue on our way to Slappy's shop. It was near the main gates of Pearl Street. I often wondered what Slappy did to have his shop in such a prime position as all visitors would pass by when they came and left Pearl Street. Lucky said that he either blackmailed the mayor or did something really underhanded to get it.

The bell rung as Pistol opened the door for me. Slappy was behind the counter and beamed when he saw me, “Well, if it isn't my favorite mare on the island!”

I made a show of fluttering my lashes shyly and offered him a small smile, “I bet you say that to all the fillies and mares, Slappy.”

Only to the pretty ones, Sandy.” He gave me a big grin. There must be donkey in his ancestry because his had the biggest teeth I had ever seen in an earth pony's mouth. His mane and tail was shaven short and his cutie mark was of a cash register which looked exactly like the one on the counter. “I take it you're here for that book ya ordered last week.”

“You did say that you would have it today.” I reminded him.

“I believe I have it somewhere in the back, one moment.” He went into the back and came back moments later with a package. “Take a look.”

I peeled back the paper and looked at the cover. The Book of Littlepip was scrawled on the cover in large bold letters and I stared in amazement at the newness of the book. The books I've read in the past were relics from before the Great War with torn pages, burnt edges, and soiled covers. This book was unblemished with white pages and a pleasant new smell. I had been paying for this book a little each week for nearly a year.

“Nice ain't it?” Slappy said while I marvel over the book. “Followers of the Apocalypse took it fresh from the printers in Fillydelphia and sent it straight to your lovely hooves.”

I tore my eyes from the book. “I know we agreed that I could take it with me if I paid the rest of the thirty caps, but unfortunately, I only have twenty for you.”

“Oh. Sorry, m'dear, but I can't let you take it home unless you pay the rest. I'll keep it safe and sound for you until then.” He reached forward to take the book back.

I hugged it to my chest away from his hooves. As soon as I saw the flawless cover, I had to take the book home with me. I couldn't stand to wait another week before combing through the fresh pages. “I can pay the rest next week, Slappy. You know I'm good for it. Please?”

“Sorry, I can't let you take it. It goes against my policy.” He pointed at a board sign mounted to the wall above his head. On it was a list of rules, one of them being that nothing leaves the shop unless its paid in full.

Damn, I was hoping that he would be lenient. However, I wasn't ready to give up yet. I batted my eyes at him and before I could give him a witty response full of innuendo, my escort appeared at the counter beside me and dropped ten caps on the table.

I stared at him stunned. Slappy moved toward the caps, “Are you offering to pay the difference, sir?”

“Yes.”

I quietly paid the remaining twenty caps and thanked Slappy and left with the book tucked beneath my skirt. As we headed back towards the Prancing Filly, I kept glancing at my escort wondering what his game was. One thing I've learned in my pained life is that nopony did anything for free.

“I'll pay you back next week,” I told him. I wasn't wearing my mask, totally ignoring the lustful glances and leering looks from passing pedestrians.

“No need,” he said without looking at me.

“Yes, there is,” I said under my breath. “What do you want? A trip upstairs? Or in the alley? Sorry, but Madame Dove says we're high class prostitutes, not street hookers. So it'll have to be upstairs.”

“I don't want to sleep with you,” the mud colored pony replied dryly.

I didn't press the issue. If he wanted something from me he would make it known soon and if not, then he was surprisingly dumb. I pushed back my suspicions and allowed myself the pleasure of anticipation. I had heard the tales and many ponies before had claimed to have fought side by side with the Light Bringer during the Wasteland war. It was amusing to hear a young buck speak about the war as if he had been there. The book about Littlepip's journey had been distributed throughout the Wasteland freely. I just had to pay the insane shipping and ordering fees.

My pleasure was cut short when I heard preaching up ahead. “Oh no.”

Down the street was a unicorn mare standing on a box wearing a white robe with an emblazon sun. She spoke loudly holding her hooves outward toward any pony that drew close. “Celestia's love has been returned to us! But just as love is given freely, it too can be taken away as it was on the Last Day! If we do not turn to Her love, then we may suffer the same fate all over again! Do not turn away from this second chance to redeem ourselves!”

Ever since the Light Bringer cleared the sky, the Church of Celestia was a growing religion that was spreading across the Wasteland. They believed that Littlepip had guided Celestia back to Equestria and that ponykind was given a second chance. They preached that if ponies would turn away from sin then Celestia would come back in the flesh to govern us as she had centuries ago. They often come to "dens of sin" to preach and lead ponies back to Celestia's Light. Behind their backs they were called Sun Worshipers. They came to the island several weeks ago and Madame Dove had sent Ambrose to send off a hapless preacher when he attempted to dissuade customers from going into the Prancing Filly.

As we drew close, the preacher noticed me and pointed a hoof at me. “Sin comes in all shapes! It may look pretty, it may give you a few minutes of pleasure, and may make the sweetest promises, but it is still ugly! You lie with sin, the you are stained! You talk with sin, then you are stained! You lust for sin, then you are stained! Celestia abhors sin and at the end of your days when you go before Her Light to be judged and she sees all that sin on you, She will turn away from you in disgust and cast you down to the Depths where all the wicked burn! Don't let this trollop lead you Down! Look away and look toward our Goddess's Love and know Her!”

This went on and on until we were well out of earshot. I felt the tension ease from my shoulders. It had been worse before. One time a preacher had young foals attending his street sermon and they began throwing trash and rocks at me.

When we stepped into the Prancing Filly, I felt the tension in the barroom so thick I felt it's weight on my face. Lucky was sitting at the bar with her usual companion of whiskey and the bartender was intensely cleaning a glass as if it was his life's mission. Silky, a gold colored earth pony mare, was sitting at the end of the bar with an untouched bottle of Sparkle-cola in front of her. She looked like she wanted to throw up.

Pistol paused beside me, likely noticing the odd tension. I trotted forward to the bar and whispered to Lucky, “What's going on?”

Lucky turned to me and I got a mind numbing whiff of her breath, but her words sobered me quick. “Cottontail was holding back caps and Ambrose is upstairs having a “talk” with her about it.”

My blood ran cold and I wished I could go back outside. I would rather stand there and be ridicule as a sin spreading whore than here right now. I looked back and saw that Pistol had disappeared possibly not having a taste for what was happening. I sat on the stool next to Lucky and we sat together in silence. We both had experienced what it was to have a “talk” with Ambrose and our hearts were going out to Cottontail who was likely in the middle of hers. I was glad that the upstairs rooms were sound proof for client privacy as it prevented us from hearing what was happening. We didn't want any sound to aid the mental images in our head.

Why didn't I warn the others when Madame Dove asked me about holding back caps? Cottontail could have had the chance to hide her stash . . . no, if I had done that and Madame Dove found out that I had gave warning, I would be upstairs too feeling the bite of a belt.

“He'll go easy on her.” Lucky murmured before taking a swig from her bottle. “She's young and new here and a lot of clients like her.”

“Yeah, but she committed one of Madame Dove's cardinal sins," I whispered back.

Before Lucky could respond, we heard a door open from upstairs and heavy hooves clomping on the stairs. Ambrose came down slipping his belt back around his waist. When he caught us watching him, he gave us a meaningful look and then went into the backrooms. I felt my heart resume it's normal beat and nearly sagged in on the stool. Lucky scooted off her seat and said, “We should go check on her.”

I snapped my head around, “Excuse me?”

“She needs friends right now.” Lucky floated her near empty bottle of whiskey with her. “And you need to talk to her.”

“Why do I need to talk to her?”

Lucky cast a glance at Silky who was chatting with the bartender and was sipping her neglected Sparkle-cola. She leaned in and whispered, “Because she's was trying to save her caps for a stallionfriend, that's why.”

All the air went out of me in a whoosh. I felt so light headed, I could have spilled off the stool and crumbled into a heap on the floor. I planted my hooves firmly on the counter and glared at her, “You have no right to bring that up.”

Lucky was sober enough to look regretful, “I know, I know, but history is gonna repeat itself if you don't go up there and talk to her.”

What Lucky was asking me was no small thing. She was referring to a chapter of my life that I wished I could erase. Bringing it back up would be painful and Lucky only knew of it because she was there when it happened. I brushed a hoof across my brow trying not to look at Lucky who was watching me expectantly. “I'll go up with you, but I make no promises. Okay?”

“It's enough, Sandy, thanks.”

We went upstairs after I took off my dress and hid my book in our room. I don't suspect that anyone in the brothel would want to steal it, but I didn't want it ponyhandled before I had the chance to read it. Lucky carried a little round container of Miracle Salve and floated a bottle of whiskey with her magic. I wondered how much of it would Lucky drink before she would think to offer any to the injured party.

It wasn't hard to find which room she was in. We could hear the sobs from the open door. Lucky poked her head in first and then trotted inside. I followed her and saw the state Cottontail was in. She was sprawled on the bed with welts along her legs and back swelling beneath her coat. There were even welts across her cutie mark of a white rabbit nibbling a carrot. Her face was tucked beneath her folded forelegs and her shoulder jerked with each sob. I stood back and waited while Lucky spoke soothingly to the white earth pony and applied the salve to her welts. When she lifted her face from her forelegs I could see the forming bruise on her cheek were she had likely been slapped by Madame Dove.

The Miracle Salve Lucky was using was a recent creation from the Followers of the Apocalypse. It treated any minor skin irritations from sunburn to bug bites and any form of skin inflammation. Madame Dove liked it became it can make belt welts heal and disappear in minutes just in time for opening time. She believed that we loose our value if customers saw us with marks or injuries.

So far, Lucky hasn't brought up Cottontail's stallionfriend so maybe I could get out of talking about my past. Just as I thought I could sneak out, Lucky said, “What happened, hon?”

“Madame Dove searched my room and found my caps hidden beneath my mattress. I think Candy ratted me out.” Cotton rubbed her eyes with a hoof. She was sitting at the edge of the bed with Lucky. She looked miserable when she said, “I just want to leave.”

“Dear, then you're going to have to pay off your contract first,” Lucky said gently.

Alright, let me explain the thing about contracts. It's a wicked little tool that pimps and madames such as Madame Dove use to keep prostitutes from leaving. What? You think we stay at the Prancing Filly because we liked having sex with strange ponies for little to no pay and being terrorized by Ambrose under Madame Dove's tyranny? No, because each of us signed a contract. If a pony wants to end a contract then she would have to pay it all off or the holder of the contract agrees to tearing it up.

“How!? She barely pays me anything! If I saved every cap she gives me it would still take years before I pay it off!” Cottontail sniffle looking poor and miserable. “And she even docked my pay for three months . . .”

“You knew better than to try holding back caps,” Lucky admonished gently. “You need to just keep your head down and do as Madame Dove says and get more clients. She'll pay you more if you do.”

“I . . .I can't wait that long.” Cottontail stammered.

“Why? Because your stallionfriend is going to be leaving on a boat soon?” Lucky said. Cottontail gawped at her and she said, “Darlin', I've been in this job a long time and I've seen young fillies like you come and go in this line of work and trust me, I know a filly in love when I see one.”

Cottontail looked away with narrowing eyes. “You don't know anything. Neither of you do.”

I had enough. “Let me guess. You and he have a plan to run away together, am I right?”

It was my turn to be gawped at. “H-how do you . . .?”

“I know because I lived it, honey.” I sat on the floor and glowered at her. “And trust me, it was all a damn mistake that I wish I could go back and change.”

Lucky floated the whiskey bottle over to me. I accepted it and I realized that she had brought it up for me. She understood how hard this would be for me and I silently thanked her for it by taking a long swig. The liquid burned going down, but it was quick to loosen me up to dampen down the walls I had to keep from being hurt. I set the whiskey bottle down and began my tale.

Ten years ago, I had been Cottontail's age and I had been working for Madame Dove for two years. Back then, I had thought of Madame Dove as a surrogate mother because she was the one that took me off the street and kept me clean and fed. That's a different story for a different time.

It was during one of my trips down Pearl Street to do some shopping with the caps I had saved up when I met him. His name was Barley Hay and he was the most good looking earth pony I had ever seen. His coat was tan brown and his mane was pure gold. He was a shop owner's son, but he had dreams of going out into the Wasteland and starting his own caravan company. All he lacked was the caps to do it.

At that time, Madame Dove wasn't strict about us going out alone ( however, after this story, you'll see why she decided that we needed escorts to go out ). I was able to go out and meet with him each day. He didn't care that I was a prostitute, all he cared that I was Sandy Topps and he was in love with me. Then one day, he told me that he was going to be leaving on an evening boat and he wanted me to come with him. He said he wanted to marry me and we could start a caravan company together. I was so in love with him that his dream became my dream and I agreed to run away with him.

I sneaked out the back with a bag full of my scant belongings and whatever caps I had and met with him at the boat. The boat was late to leave so we were waiting together at the docks when Madame Dove arrived with Ambrose. My beau had a gun and had been prepared to use it to defend me when Madame Dove offered him 700 caps to get on the boat without me.

He accepted.

I will never forget how he accepted that bag of caps and never looked back at me as I screamed his name from across Ambrose's shoulder. When we got back to the Prancing Filly, Ambrose took me upstairs and raped me. Then he beat me so severely, I thought I was going to be beaten to death. I spent weeks recovering from a broken leg, cracked ribs, and a fractured skull. When I recovered, Madame Dove told me that my contract sum had gone up. She said that I now owed her the 700 caps she paid off Barley with and for the weeks I didn't work recovering, and also the healing potions that kept me from dying that day.

I never seen or heard from Barley again.

As I finished my story, Cottontail was staring at me in amazement and, to my chagrin, pity. She asked, “Why did she pay him the caps?”

“To teach me a lesson. To teach me that caps and money weigh a lot more than love and friendship,” I told her. “It cost a lot, but I never made the same mistake again.”

Level Up!

New Perk: Flirtatious Customer - You are able to use your charms to get a 20% discount from merchants.

Author's Note

Made some changes and corrections and also added leveling.

Dark Ride

It was late afternoon when the Prancing Filly opened its doors. The bar opens an hour before the upstairs are available. It gives customers time to drift in and get several drinks in them so they'll spend more money than they plan to by the time we become available. We took this hour to prep ourselves for our “guests”.

I carefully curled my mane. I was mentally counting to five before I would unwound my hair from the iron when Candy bumped me. I hissed when the levitating iron grazed my ear. I flicked it several times and glared at the pink earth pony who gave me a sour “I'm sorry” before taking her place at the makeup mirror. Lucky was swishing scented water in her mouth to hide the whiskey on her breath and Cottontail whose injuries from earlier had faded due to the special salve was powdering her nose.

After I shared my story, I had left feeling too disgusted with life in general to talk anymore. I left Lucky to tend to Cottontail and I went to my room and tried to read a few pages of my new book. I barely finished the prologue when I gave up. My happy mood was ruined and even this new book wasn't bringing it back. I tucked it away beneath my mattress and napped until opening.

Just as I was checking over my makeup, Madame Dove came in to give us our daily pep talk.

“Girls, girls, gather round,” she said as warmly as any school teacher would to gather her pupils' attention for lessons. She opted to wear a corset jacket that hug her chest and forelegs. Her cutie mark was bare and it was a perched dove. She beamed brightly at each of us, likely trying to estimate how much each of us would bring in that night.

Once we gathered around her, she began her speech. “Remember to smile at all times!” Her warm smile faltered as her eyes landed on Cottontail who still had a downcast look in her eyes from her earlier beating. Once Cottontail noticed that hard look was on her, she instantly plastered a loopy grin on her face. Once Madame Dove was satisfied she continued, “Treat each of our guests as if they are royalty!”

I swear, I could recite this speech from heart. It was the same one she gave each night ever since I got here. The cliff notes are be nice to customers, oh and never call them customers. They are guests! Also, if a customer is sober, ply them with drinks with them hoofing the bill. It had taken me a while to realize why she gave this speech each day. It was to remind us that she was watching and any show of bad performance will have to answer to her.

At the tail end of her speech, she said, “Sandy, the Mayor of Sunny Days has an appointment with you later tonight at 8:00. You're free to take a break and freshen up and Ambrose will escort you.”

Damn. Oh, damn. And I was hoping that I could try reading after work tonight.

Madame Dove looked me squarely in the eye and there was a slight edge in her voice, “You'll treat him extra nice tonight, understand?”

It seems that my visit is a means to pay off the mayor or to settle a debt. It wasn't for me to know the whys of it. I'm to play my part as the good little whore who offered her plot to whomever my madame told me to.

I nodded, “Yes ma'am.”

“I want you girls out there in ten minutes.” Madame Dove left us.

Once she was out the door and well out of earshot, Lucky nudged me, “I heard he has good scotch.”

“I'm sure that I'm not going over there to drink his scotch,” I snorted.

“Oh, trust me. When he's in a good mood, he's generous,” Lucky winked at me.

The mayor liked young mares. During my first few years at the Prancing Filly, Lucky had been the one that paid visits to the mayor and other peers of the island. Back then, she had been younger without the extra weight. She drank, but not as heavily as she did now. In fact, she had been something else back then, a pony I once admired. When she set hoof out into the saloon, the ponies cheered and joined her in song and stomp their hooves. She was the highlight of the night, but then something changed in her. It happened so gradually that I didn't notice, but Lucky stopped being the charming starlet to being a drunk. Ponies say that she had passed her prime.

One thing I make sure to do before going out there was to take my birth control. I took out a small round compact where I kept the pills. Payment for birth control was another amount slashed from our wages, however it wasn't something I would complain about. If it wasn't for the pills I would be the mother of a dozen foals by now and last time I checked Madame Dove doesn't have a nursery on the premises.

We flow out into the bar with smiles and promises in the flutter of our lashes and the sway of our flanks. I stop being me and become a different pony. I flirted with stallion and mare alike and laugh at their jokes even if I didn't get it or find remotely funny. Several ponies would buy me drinks of which I take small sips from, never refusing them. I listened to stories, both dull and interesting, with intrigue. Whenever a pony made a pass, I suggested he or she could come upstairs with me with a conspiring wink. No matter their age, shape, sex, or appearance, I treated each of them as they were each the most important pony in the world and I was there to make them happy.

The rules were simple. To get upstairs, you had to pay at the bar and get a ticket. Ambrose would take the ticket and let the guestupstairs. Occasionally, a pony tries to slip upstairs while Ambrose's occupied with another pony or claim that they left something valuable upstairs, but despite his size, the minotaur had good perception and a good memory. More than once, he has literally tossed a pony out.

I head upstairs with a guestnot too far behind me. He was a light blue pegasus who said that he came down from the cloud cities to get a taste of the earth life. I wondered what tales he would take back with him to the sky. Once his half hour was up, a mare that looked like an ex-raider came in, and then a stuttering unicorn. One by one, they came in and I did my job and make sure that each of them left the room satisfied. I've been in this job so long, I've seen and done it all. Some came in knowing what they wanted and others came in thinking they knew what they wanted. Some liked it gentle and romantic, others wanted it rough, and others wanted it loud. Some saw me as a fulfillment of a fantasy and others saw me as a piece of meat. I was whatever they wanted me to be, it was what they paid for.

After a hefty earth pony climbed off me, I lay on the bed panting hoping that I would get a few minutes rest before the next client came in. There was a solid rap at the door and I knew it was Ambrose. He usually knocked when time was almost up for a client. After that, the client had exactly one minute to finish up and be ready to leave because Ambrose doesn't knock twice. If the knock was ignored, then he had no problem coming in, pulling the pony off me and tossing them out by the scruff.

After the pony left Ambrose stuck his head inside, “You have twenty minutes to get ready for your visit.”

Oh yes, I nearly forgotten.

A carriage was waiting outside at the back. Ambrose would be escorting me while Pistol took over for him. If didn't take me long to get ready and meet him by the carriage. The pony pulling the carriage was a regular to the brothel and was the type that knew to keep his mouth shut. Ambrose opened the carriage door for me and I trotted inside. The minotaur had to duck his head to get inside and his presence nearly filled the inside.

I sat quietly, ducking my eyes toward the floor. In case it hasn't been picked up on, I'm scared as hell of Ambrose. Not because of him raping me years ago and how he didn't seem to mind beating the hell out of us if we made Madame Dove mad. It was just . . . that I always got this sense of hatred from him whenever he looked at us. Or at any pony. His eyes were always slanted in a glare and though he spoke softly, there was a gruff behind it as if he wanted to snarl.

So it scared the hell out of me when he spoke. “Back in my tribe, in the far, far north, we had ponies.”

I looked up at him surprised. Ambrose rarely spoke to us unless it was to pass us orders from Madame Dove.

“We kept them in pens.” He was reaching into a pocket and drew out a pack of cigarettes. Madame Dove didn't allow smoking in her brothel, she said that the smell of smoke was a turn off. “We let them out to work. Pulling wagons or working the fields.”

I swallowed wondering where this was going. “Okay . . .”

“They didn't talk.” Ambrose lit his cigarette and the flame lit up his face. He had a long scar that angled from across his right eye and ended along his left cheek. “We cut out their tongues. It made them quiet, more docile. Kept them from talking about freedom or trying to escape.”

A shiver ran down my spine and I wondered how much longer before we arrived at the Mayor's house. Why was he scaring me like this?

Then it dawned on me. Madame Dove thought that history was going to repeat itself with Cottontail. Did she believe that I was encouraging Cottontail to hide caps?

“I had a talk with Cottontail. I told her about what happened to me . . . I don't think Cottontail would . . .”

“Just like you didn't think anypony was hiding back caps?” Ambrose took a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving me.

There was a moment, I swear, that my heart stopped. Just stop. When it resumed beating, I began babbling. “I swear I have no idea what she was doing. I promise! If I did, I . . . I would have told her to turn them in! I would have told Madame Dove! I swear to the Sisters! Please, please, believe me.”

As my fear ran rapid, a horrible memory came to me. It had happened years ago, a few months after I joined the brothel. An earth pony by the name of Violet had been working in the brothel for years until she decided that she had enough and told Madame Dove that either she was let go or she would tell the Mayor about some of her “dealings” behind his back. The Madame smiled and asked Violet to stay on for a few more days until she found a replacement. Hours later Violet was taken out in a carriage like this with Ambrose and never came back. I made the mistake of asking Madame Dove where Violet went and she smiled and said, “She went for a swim.”

Three days later, Violet's body washed up on the beach. Was I about to go for a swim?

Ambrose continued smoking watching me sweat. I trembled waiting for his reply. A quick glance out the window told me that we were approaching an intersection in the path. One way would take us to the southern piers where unspeakable things could happen and not be shared and the other way would head north toward the suburban neighborhood where the wealthy lived. I held my breath and waited to see which way the carriage would go.

It took the northern path. I let loose a long breath and felt the sweat beads gelling in the my coat.

Ambrose shook the ash from his cigarette outside the window. “Madame Dove doesn't want a repeat of history. She thinks you can help with that.”

I nodded so fast my curls bounced, “Yes, of course! I'll do anything to help!”

“Good.” Ambrose grind his cigarette out against the bottom of his hoof and tossed it out the window. It landed in the pristine yard of white house with blue shutters. I imagined that the owner would be none too happy to see it, but I doubted Ambrose would care; he might even take delight on in it.

The carriage pulled up in front of a large house with pillars in the front supporting a large balcony. I quickly adjusted my dress and made certain my mane was in place. Hopefully, my makeup looked alright.

Ambrose climbed out first and held the door open for me. As I climbed down the short steps, the realization of what I had agreed to dropped on me. It was my job to keep Cottontail from attempting to run away, that is if that was her plan at all. Maybe my talk with her has changed her mind or maybe there was no plan to flee at all. There were just too many maybes! Why can't I go back to this morning when all I had to worry about was getting a book!?

I was escorted inside by a servant and led upstairs. Before we arrived to the master bedroom, I buried my worries and produced a smile and bedroom eyes to play my part.

The mayor was an overweight stallion with a thick mustache and greasy mane. He spoke with a thick mainland accent and his breath smelled of alcohol and cigars. Years of practice kept me from flinching whenever he kissed me. He liked to kiss a lot and I believe that he wants to pretend I was a marefriend instead of paid whore. That's fine, my role here is to be whatever he wanted me to be and nothing more.

When he was passed out on the bed, I got up and used the small bathroom attached to the main bedroom. I took a moment to look at my appearance. My mane was a bit tangle, my makeup smeared, and light bruising on my neck where he gave me a hickey. I washed my hooves and my face and quietly trotted out. The clock stated that it was 2:00 AM. It was too early for me to leave and with the mayor asleep there wasn't much for me to do. I could sleep, but my nerves were too wracked from my carriage trip that I would probably wake him up with my toss and turning.

I killed time by looking at his meager book collection on a small shelf. It was doubtful that the mayor ever took the time for reading and there were a few interesting titles. I considered reading one, but I wouldn't be finished with it by the time it took for me to leave and I hate starting a book and never finishing it. Then I noticed the terminal on his desk.

It was one of those pre-war Stable-Tec computers, very old with scuff marks about the monitor and keyboard. The screen was off and believing that it was defunct I tapped a few keys and was startled when it the screen flicked on. I quickly looked over my shoulder at the mayor and he hadn't even stirred. I turned back to the terminal and studied the screen intently.

I didn't mean to be nosy, but this was my first time around a working terminal. Madame Dove never used one preferring to handle her accounts through a ledger. My previous visits the mayor had been awake or I wouldn't wake up till dawn. I read the first message which was still on the screen.

The cargo will come in on the 15th from the southern docks. Cargo: Buck, Mint-als, Party-Time Mint-als, Stampede. Payment: 150 caps.

I blinked confused for a moment. No ships docked at the southern piers, except for small time fisherponies or . . .smugglers. Of course, the mayor was likely involved in drug dealings and smugglers. I switched off the screen now knowing that next time I got a customer high off stampede, I had the mayor to thank for that. Bastard.

* * *

We didn't start back for home until the sun began rising. The mayor gave me a quick morning kiss as if I was his wife and I was dismissed. The carriage ride was less stressful compared to last night and I was more than happy when we arrived at the Prancing Filly and I was able to undress and turn in.

Lucky was snoring soundly with an open bottle of whiskey on the pillow next to her head like a teddy bear. I carefully took the bottle and corked it and set it the floor. I was tired, but I was too worried to sleep as I had a problem to contend with. If Cottontail has plans to runaway, then I was going to be in trouble and trouble usually meant having a “talk” with Ambrose.

I would have to check on Cottontail and hope that my story has brought her to her senses. If not, then what can I do? I hated being a rat, but if it comes down to it being me or another pony getting a “talk”, then by the Sisters it was going to be the other pony. Cottontail has been in this business long enough to know that most ponies were bastards.

Yet, that didn't sit well with me at all. I didn't want to be the cause of somepony else getting a beating. In that moment, I hated Ambrose and Madame Dove more than anything in the world. They kept us in the constant state of fear and had us spy on each other to win favor or ward off punishment. I allowed myself to stew in my hatred for them and then once the anger subsided, I began to think clearly. I guess the best thing I could do was find out more about this stallionfriend Cottontail had, but I couldn't question her about him myself. Maybe Lucky could, but could she stay sober long enough to be subtle?

Then it hit me. Pistol Whip has escorted Cottontail many times. Now that I thought about it, it made sense. Ambrose would have put a stop to any non-profitable romances if he was escorting, but Pistol Whip might be keeping Cottontail's visits private. I could just ask him. And just as the idea brighten my prospects, it left a sour note in my stomach. I still owed Pistol Whip the ten caps and asking him for information would be me further in his debt, but I have nothing to pay him with.

Well, that wasn't true. I had something that every pony wanted and paid for many, many times.

I managed to get a couple hours of sleep and woken by Lucky falling out of bed. I got up and helped her to her hooves. She wobbled and leaned against me heavily, “The world is spinning. . .”

“Just the inside of your head, dear,” I told her as I guided her to the bathroom. If I hurried, I could get her in the bathroom before she threw up.

While Lucky empty the contents of her stomach in the toilet I brushed my mane and washed my face. I applied a little makeup around my eyes to hide the bags under them.

“How was the mayor?” Lucky looked at me with glossy eyes and spat in the toilet.

“Sloppy and tried to be romantic,” I muttered studying my reflection.

“Ahhh, shame that Mayor Buster ain't around no more. Now that was a stallion . . .” Before Lucky could tell me more, she shoved her face into the bowl and heaved some more.

“Lucky, when you are able, take a bath and use mouthwash,” I said as I walked to the door. Usually, I helped Lucky into the tub, but right now I needed to hurry before Candy Hearts or Silky was up. Lucky will too busy in the bathroom to interfere.

I headed towards the kitchen and caught the strong aroma of fresh coffee. Pistol Whip was at the kitchen table nursing from a mug as was his usual habit. I canter to his side, “Come with me.”

He looked at me raising a brow curiously, “Why?”

“Just, come on.”

He drained his coffee mug and stood up. He followed me two pony lengths behind. I led him to my room. I was relieved to see the others' doors were still closed. Good, the last thing I needed for them to butt into my business. I could still hear Lucky throwing up behind the bathroom door so at least she would be out of the way. Once we were inside, I shut the door.

Pistol Whip was watching me apprehensively when I turned back to him. “What do you want?”

“Paying you back for yesterday. So how do you want it?”

He didn't reply, but his eyes sure got big. “Excuse me?”

“How. Do. You. Want. It?” I said slowly. Surely, I didn't have to spell it out for him.

It was a question I had asked customers many times and I always got an answer in one form or another. But I wasn't expecting the answer I got from Pistol Whip.

His brow crinkled and his dark eyes narrowed, “I don't want it.”

I recovered quickly, “Yes, you do. Everypony does. No need to be shy, you don't have anything I haven't already seen.”

I approached him, my hooves lightly tapping the wood floor as they carried me closer to him. Some ponies just needed a little encouragement, especially the shy ones. I batted my eyes and flicked my tail making a soft swish in the air behind me. Before I could get close, Pistol Whip held up a hoof and pushed me away.

I've never been pushed away before so I stumbled backwards. My hooves clopped on the floor as I caught myself. “What's wrong?”

“I don't want to have sex with you,” his voice was firm and thick.

I tilted my head confused, “So . . . you don't like fillies?”

He guffawed, “No, I like fillies just fine.”

“Then . . .are you gelded?” I took a quick glance at his legs, but I wasn't able to peek at what was between his back legs.

“No!” he snapped.

“Then why not? If you want my to pay you back in caps, you're going to have to wait until next week.”

“Sandy,” he said my name. I never heard him say my name before. He said it as if it was a curse, “You don't have to repay me. I'm not looking for repayment of any kind from you.”

My ears laid back and I stomp a hoof in frustration, “Then . . . then . . .what the hell do you want? Why did you pay the caps!?”

He stared at me for a long time. And just as I was about to get impatient and demand an answer, he said, “I was just being kind, Sandy.”

I sat on the floor puzzled and frustrated. Nopony did anything for another without expecting anything in return. Lucky and I helped Cottontail because if she screwed up than the rest of us would pay for it. “So you don't want anything from me?”

“No, I don't,” he said firmly.

“You might change your mind once I ask you this.” I stood and flicked my tail irritated.

“What would that be?” The line of his jaw tighten. I had pissed him off too.

“You've escorted Cottontail several times. Have you seen the buck she's been hanging out with?”

He eyed me for several moments before saying, “Maybe.”

I never liked guessing games. I hated them in fact. My anger was throbbing in my temples like a pulse, but I forced myself to calm down. He was already mad as it was and I didn't want to push him over that edge to where he didn't want to help me at all. I drew a deep breath and tried to appeal to this “kindness” thing he had going. “Cottontail is going to get herself into a lot of trouble over this buck. You already seen what happened to her for holding back caps, imagine what is going to happen to her if she does something really stupid. Trust me, I've had a taste of it myself and it is no where near as pleasant what happened to her yesterday. I want to head this off before she gets herself into trouble.” As an afterthought I added, “It would also help out Madame Dove.”

Pistol Whip muttered something foul under his breath and fixed me with a fierce glare. “So you want me to warn him off? To beat him up?”

That would be great, but I doubted that Pistol Whip was going to do this as a freebie. He might just ask for some form of payment. I shook my head, “No, I want to talk to him. Let him know what kind of trouble he got Cottontail into already. You don't have to do anything. Just take me to where she meets him.”

Pistol Whip seemed to mull this over and then nodded, “Alright. Be ready in an hour and we'll go.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Why did I want to meet Cottontail's stallionfriend? Maybe it was out of a sick sense of curiosity or morbid fascination. Would I see a young buck deeply in love as I believed Barley Hay to be or maybe a scoundrel whose love was faked as Barley Hay truly was? As I went to the bathroom to make sure that Lucky hadn't drown herself in the toilet or bathtub, I realized that I was working to break up a couple. Did it faze me?

Not really. I had to survive in this hellhole somehow.

Bleak Day

*This chapter contains offensive words that might make this chapter a rated M.

An hour later found Pistol Whip leading Lucky and me towards the southern part of the island. Lucky heard that I was going out and decided that she wanted to come along too.

“I'm not going shopping,” I told her as I magically tied the strings on my corset. It was cool in the morning, so a corset wouldn't be too uncomfortable.

“I need to get out more,” Lucky yawned while a whiskey bottle revolved around her head by her own magic. “I've been putting on weight, ya know.”

At first, I was going to try to change her mind, but then I thought better. Maybe having Lucky along might be for the best. She has a way of easing tense situations and things might become thorny once I find Cottontail's beau. “Fine, but you might change your mind when I tell you why I'm going out. And don't tell anypony else about this, okay?”

I told her about my intentions, but I left out the reason behind them. She didn't need to know that I was being put up to it by Ambrose and Madame Dove. Once I was finished, she looked . . . well, sober. She fixed me with a focus look that I had always believed was beyond her ability.

“Do you think that's wise, Sandy? You getting in between a mare and her stallion like that? That leads to nothing but trouble on all sides.” Lucky's whiskey continued its orbit as she spoke.

“I'm not trying to steal him away from her,” I said. “You were the one who wanted to help her yesterday. This is just further help.”

“Seems more like meddling to me.” Lucky flicked an ear in consternation and the tip flicked the edge of the whiskey bottle causing it to rotate like a planet around her head.

“Well, it's no-uh!” In my anger, my magic yanked on the laces too hard, and my waist was constricted too tightly. It took several tugs, but I was able to loosen it to the point where I could breathe freely. “Lucky, if you don't want to come, then don't.”

“I'll come along, just letting you know what I think.” With that, she lowered and tilted the bottle to her lips and took a swig.

We didn't go to Pearl Street as I had expected. It was where I had first met Barley Hay whose father had secured rights to open a shop. Once he left the island, his father couldn't run the shop himself and sold it. Instead we took a southern street and trotted towards the slums, where the homeless and the dregs of the island reside. I was ill at ease, not because of the scenery, but because it brought back memories.

Memories of which I refuse to delve into now. I focused on the matter at hoof and stuck close to Pistol Whip. I asked him, “So do you know how she met him?”

“I wasn't around then, but I think it was near Pearl Street,” Pistol Whip replied.

“So what is he like?”

“You'll see.” Pistol Whip took us along an empty street where graffiti and gang tags littered the buildings.

My stomach dropped as my suspicions peaked. We passed a group of youths lounging against a building smoking and bragging to each other of exaggerated exploits. Some of them leered at me and others eyed Pistol Whip carefully and decided that we wouldn't be easy marks for a mugging. Lucky lumbered along beside completely unaware of our surroundings in her drunken stupor.

Finally, we came to an empty building at the end of the street. It was once an office building, but the windows have since been broken and stained with graffiti. Above the doorway scrawled was The Buckers Stable. When Pistol Whip stopped in front of it, I stared at him not wanting to believe that this was the place. He caught my glance and gave me a firm nod. This was the place.

On the front stoop was a smoky colored foal playing with empty bottles and cans. When we approached, he stared at us with open mouth curiosity and then craned his head around and yelled inside, “Sonny! Ponies are here!”

There was some clopping, and a similar colored pony stuck his head outside and smirked upon seeing us. “Well, well! Looks like the Prancing Filly is doing home visits now.”

This was a mistake. What in Celestia's Divine Mane was I thinking in coming here!?

Pistol Whip cleared his throat roughly and said, “Get Trotter out here. We came to talk with him.”

“Trotter? But I don't see Cottontail.”

“That's because it wasn't Cottontail that came to see him,” Pistol snorted. “Stop wasting our time and get him.”

The youth glared at him before drawing back inside. It was several minutes wait before another pony came outside, and all of my preconceptions about who he was died. Barley Hay had been handsome and had a hunger for adventure and glory in his eyes. He had been clean coming from a stable home or as stable as one could be in these days. This pony was his polar opposite.

His coat was an ugly shade of grey and his dark mane was in terrible need of a wash and combing. He wore a denim jacket that needed to be cleaned more than his mane if that could be believed. And to top it all off, he had a cutie mark of a broken bottle. He leered at me and as he came closer I could smell the booze and drugs on him.

I glanced at Pistol Whip who gave me another nod. This was the pony that Cottontail was risking herself for? This was the pony that she had risked hiding caps and then was beaten for? Dear Sweet Celestia and the Sun!

“You brought me a different whore, friend?” he said to Pistol Whip.

“I'm not your friend,” our bodyguard spoke in a voice so full of cold fury it sent shivers along my spine and made Trotter falter in mid-step. “This pony is Sandy Topps and her friend, Lucky. They came to talk to you about Cottontail.”

The youth glanced at me, “So what is it?”

The speech I had practiced in my mind on the way here was as forgotten as the litter on the street tossed about by the wind. I tried several times to speak, to at least say something, but each time the words would die before reaching my throat. And Trotter was beginning to glare at me impatiently. Then Lucky spoke up for me, breaking the silence.

“Cottontail ain't doing so good,” Lucky said.

“Oh?” Trotter inclined his head his eyes giving off his boredom. As if what Lucky said was insignificant as pointing out that the sun was bright and water was wet.

It irked me. No, that isn't right. It pissed me off. A lot.

“She got a beating for hiding caps in her room,” I said.

He snorted, “Then she should have hidden 'em better.”

I gritted my teeth and scrapped my hoof along the street. “She did it because she has the impression that she's going to run away with you.”

He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck with a cracked hoof. “Yeah, I guess I mighta said somethin' like that, I guess. I wasn't being serious, just joking around. S'not my fault she's too stupid to know the difference.”

Time skipped on me. One second I'm standing there listening to this slime speak and then I was in his face. His hooves clopped on the pavement as he struggled to maintain his balance as my lunging forward had startled him. His unwashed hide filled my nostrils inflaming my anger more and I barely recognized the tight voice that flowed from my mouth. “She's not stupid, she's desperate. So desperate to get away from her life that she fooled herself into thinking that she was in love with scum like you.”

His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a snarl, “Who the fuck do you think you are? You gonna stand here on the street and call me names!? I got names for you . . .”

“Nothing I haven't heard before.” I stepped back, giving him space and said, “But maybe you'll surprise me. Go ahead, and give it your best shot.”

“Bitch,” he snapped.

I looked at him incredulous. “Bitch? That's it? Just bitch?”

I heard Lucky giggle behind me and something sweet and sickly spread within me. I wasn't afraid anymore, I just. . . .saw the whole thing as hilarious and went with it. “C'mon! Try to be original! If I go a day without being called a bitch, then I wonder what I'm doing wrong!”

“Uh . . .” His ears laid back, and he glanced toward the dilapidated building where the rest of his gang was watching. He had painted himself into a corner and couldn't back down without saving face. “Whore!”

“Whore!?” Lucky squealed and stomped her hooves in mirth. “Sweet Luna! I think she meant insults, not facts about what we are!”

“Just whore? What about skank, slut, hussy, harlot, tart, or tramp?” I don't know why, but I was having too much fun right now.

“Strumpet.” Lucky drew up beside me. “Floozy, bimbo, poontang, twat, cunt, and plotter. Uh, let's see, when I was young the term flank swinger was popular. If you want to get nasty, I once heard the term cum dumpster from a colorful fellow.”

“Oooh, I once heard myself referred to as a set of holes one time.” I added.

By this time, we had drawn up a bit of an audience. The youths were snickering behind hooves and others were staring at us with wide mouths. Even the foal who had been playing on the stoop was peeking at us through the window with pink cheeks and large eyes. Trotter was red in the face and looked very confused. We were insulting ourselves, yet somehow he was the butt of it all. He was red in the face when he stammered, “Why don't ya get the hell outta here!?”

“We're not finished here,” I coolly replied. “We know exactly what we are and what we do. Better than you or anypony on this island. We're whores for hire, but we don't make empty promises. We deliver what we promise for a price unlike a manipulative shit like you. Here's the deal, you are going to break it off with Cottontail. Don't talk to her, don't meet her, don't even see her. Because the next time it won't be me coming down here, it'll be Ambrose.”

Trotter's eye's widen and his iris and pupil shrank in fear. Ambrose's reputation was well known on the island. I knew I was in no position to send Ambrose down here to beat up these youths, but Madame Dove might if she believed it would save her money. I turned around and led the way for Lucky and Pistol Whip to follow. From the corner of my eye, I could see a grin struggle to make it's way onto Pistol's lips. Funny, I didn't think he was capable of smiling.

* * *

When we drew close to Pearl Street, Lucky nudged my side and motioned down the street, “Let's stop for a drink.”

“What happened to the bottle you had?” I asked.

“Oh, darling, I polished that off before we met that Trotter fellow.” Lucky pointed a hoof at a bar with a neon sign in the shape of a pouring booze bottle. On the window was a painted sign, Hop Trop's Bar. “This place has always been good to me.”

“I don't have any caps to spend.” I spent all I had in Slappy's.

“Don't worry, my treat.” She wrapped a foreleg around mine and tugged me along with her.

I looked over my shoulder at Pistol to see if he would object to this detour, but he didn't seem to mind. Maybe he wanted to get a drink too.

The bar was empty with us being the only patrons. The stallion behind the counter was holder with white peppering his brown mane and tail. He had been stocking the back of the bar when we came in and when he saw Lucky he greeted her cheerfully, “Have a seat! I'll be with you in a moment.”

Lucky led the way to what was likely her favorite spot in the bar. It was a small table in the back with two cushion chairs facing. We sat down together, and Pistol Whip took a spot at the bar, taking off his hat .

“Hoo, that was so much fun.” Lucky smacked the counter with a hoof. “I thought the squib was going to cry he was so humiliated!”

“They could have mugged us.” I shifted a bit, the corset kept my back straight and didn't allow me much comfort. I wondered if I could undo the laces at the back to give me room to breath.

“Nah, we entertained them enough to keep the thought of mugging us away,” Lucky giggled.

The bartender came around and took our orders. Lucky requested a whiskey and I opted for an ale. When he came back with our drinks, my was served in a glass and Lucky had a whole bottle for herself. I stared and she said, “Ah, he knows when I ask for a whiskey, I mean a whole bottle.”

“One day you are going to drop dead from alcohol poisoning,” I told her as I sipped my ale.

Lucky snorted under her breath as she poured herself a drink. “Don't worry about your old Lucky. She has alcohol flowing through her veins instead of blood so I'll be around for a good long time.” She downed a shot and then quickly poured herself another. “Though, I am worried about Cottontail. Dealing with heartbreak ain't easy, and I think Trotter isn't going to let her down easy because of us. No stallion likes to be laughed at.”

“She'll get over it. I did, and I got it worse than she will.” I traced the edge of the glass with a hoof tip.

“Yeah, but you're stronger than she is. Cottontail isn't like us. She doesn't have the tough hide that you and I have,” Lucky murmured thoughtfully. “She didn't come from the same background as you and I. We signed into this life because we had nothing else, she got roped into this.”

I had never been interested in anypony's background before. We all came into this life for different reasons and it was nopony's business but our own. Yet, the way Lucky talked had me curious. “She told you about herself?”

“Yeah. After she arrived, I took her for a tour of Pearl Street and we came here to rest. She got a little tipsy and told me about her foalhood and about leaving home.” Lucky tossed back a drink and smacked her lips as she set the glass on the table.

“She had a home to leave?” I said incredulously.

“Yeah. Her family raised rabbits if you can believe it, in the mid-Equestria somewhere. And like any naive filly, she wanted to see the world. So she left home and went to Dise of all places.”

I already knew the ending to this story. I had heard it many times before. “And she racked up a huge gambling debt, and the only way she could pay it off would be with her body?”

“Bingo,” Lucky nodded. “And her previous pimp gave her contract to Madame Dove to settle a debt and now she's here trying to pay off her debt and get home.”

“Stupid,” I muttered and finished off my ale.

“No, just young and innocent which unfortunately for her is at the top of the menu for all the predators and manipulators out there.” Lucky took a quick swig directly from the bottle and said, “She reminds me of my daughter.”

My jaw dropped and my eyes widen. “You have a foal!?”

“No, she's not a foal anymore. She's a grown pony with a husband and has a foal of her own when I last saw her.” Lucky set the bottle down and looked at it somberly. “I haven't seen her for going on 15 years.”

I couldn't believe it. Lucky had never spoken of this before. Not having anything to say, I could only state the obvious, “I . . had no idea.”

“Yeah, I didn't exactly advertise it.”

Something in her began to wilt ,and she changed before my eyes. She was no longer the flamboyant, happy-go-lucky, drunk pony I had know for years. She was . . . sad now, even her hair that had some bounce to it seemed to hang like a loose curtain over her shoulders. Lucky gazed at the half filled bottle of whiskey not as a friend as she had before, but as much needed, but distasteful medicine. She took a long drink from the bottle and set it down on the table with a sharp thump as if it was too heavy for her magic to hold.

The change in her was unnerving, and I felt uncomfortable. I wanted the old Lucky back. For some reason, I felt that I was the one that caused this change, but I had no idea of how to get her to revert back to the happy drunk I knew.

As I pondered this, she spoke, “Her name was Charm. I came this island with my then stallion. It was back when ponies came to this island. Lots of opportunities and safety from raiders and monsters. It was good life back then. I worked in a shop, and he worked on a fishing boat. We had a small apartment together, and we were aiming to move into one of those houses in the northern suburb. Would have taken a us a few years to save up, but then we both knew it was gonna be worth it. Yet, two things happened to ruined everything. I got pregnant and my stallion got himself killed during a storm at sea.”

Again, I didn't know what to say. Saying 'I'm sorry' just seemed redundant. And fortunately for me, Lucky kept talking, saving me from having to verbally respond.

“Being a single mom with a foal isn't easy. No work, no caps, and I didn't know anypony here that I could leave her with. I tried working with her in a saddlebag foal carrier, but she was so little and needed so much from me. Not to mention a crying foal tends to drive away customers, and then I got the bucked.” Lucky paused to take a long drink, and finished off the bottle. She ordered another one, and I had a refill for my ale.

I didn't want to know, because this story didn't have a happy ending. Yet, I heard myself asking, “What happened next?”

“There was only one type of work I could do that paid well and didn't take me away from Charm for too long. I became one of the first street hookers of Sunny Days Island.” Lucky drew the edge of a hoof along the condensation on the bottle. “Eventually, Madame Dove came along and opened the Prancing Filly. She hired me on, and I signed a contract. I did it because more than once I would have a customer that either liked it really rough or didn't want to pay. More than once, I returned home with a bloody nose or a black eye. Madame Dove promised that I would be protected from all of that, and she kept her word on that at least.”

“And what about your daughter?” I asked.

“By the time I signed on with Madame Dove, Charm was old enough to get her cutie mark and become ashamed of me. She wanted me to quit, but the money was too good and we wanted for nothing. It must have been hard on her. Nopony came to her cute-cenera because her mom was one of the town whores. Then she got old enough to work and moved out. Met a nice stallion and left the island. I got a letter ten years ago saying she had a foal.”

I was quiet for a moment, and then I sighed knowing what I had to do. “At least she had a cute-ceanera. We couldn't afford one for me.”

Lucky looked up at me with a gleam of curiosity lighting up the melancholy in her eyes. I held the glass of ale between my hooves looked down into the brown liquid letting myself be drawn back to my foalhood.

I never knew my father, I don't even know his name save for that he had a cutie mark of a shooting star. My mother and I lived in one of the hut close to the southern beach. Mother was often sick, and often had to rest in the hut to recover from her regular bouts of illnesses. What money we could get was from selling the shells I found on the beach.

Not long after I got my cutie mark, Mother took a turn for the worse and this time she didn't get better. She spent the last few months of her life lingering, literally wasting away before my eyes. I shared her coloring, shale grey coat with soft pink mane and tail, and when she died her fur had drained to ashen grey and her mane and tail was limp like a wilted flower.

I was on my own for six months before . . .before Madame Dove found me.

And that was all that I was willing to share with Lucky.

“Your mother did the best she could,” Lucky said.

“Yeah. She did. I'm just . . . I'm just glad she died before . . .” I couldn't finish.

Lucky and I drank in silence until we left, returning to the Prancing Filly.

* * *

A week later, Cottontail tried to kill herself. She opened the window and simply jump out of it. When she hit the cobbled street, she had broken three of her legs, shattered three ribs, and fractured her skull. She left behind a large oval bloodstained that remained for several weeks until it was finally beaten away during a heavy rainstorm.

Madame Dove cursed up and down about it, upset that she was down one filly and would have to pay the extensive hospital bill to get her back on her hooves and that was without a guarantee that she could ever work again at that.

I never saw Cottontail again. My last memories of her would be of a weeping mare that could barely keep her head up as she made her way upstairs to have sex with an ugly brute of an earth pony. Lucky visited her in the hospital a few times and then stopped going. One night, I heard her sobbing and vomiting in the bathroom that last night she visited Cottontail and then in the morning she was back to her usual drunken self and spoke no more of the young mare.

Three days after her suicide attempt, I was in the kitchen staring into a mug of black coffee when a thick voice said behind me.

“s'not your fault.” It was Pistol Whip. He was at the doorway watching me. “That filly was gonna find a way out of here whether it was with a stallion or through a window. She opted for the window once the stallion didn't come through. And we both know he was rotten bastard anyway.”

“Yeah, I just helped her out the window is all,” I muttered. Then I sputtered, “And what makes you think I give a damn? Cottontail wanted to die, no fur off my back!”

“Then why have you been moping and not making eye contact with anypony since then?” Pistol inquired.

“Because Madame Dove has been in a pissy mood, and shit rolls down hill,” I snapped at him. “Is it my fault she fucked herself up by leaving home and got into debt in Dise!? My fault she put all her faith in the wrong stallion!? No, that's on her! I'm just pissed because of her stupid stunt fucked the rest of us, and I mean me mostly, have a bigger workload!”

I got up as I shouted and tossed my mug into the sink. It shattered, but I didn't care. Madame Dove would just add it to my debt. I shoved him aside and stomped upstairs to my room. I slammed the door shut behind me and stood there feeling empty, hollowed. It was unnerving.

Why couldn't I be sad like Lucky? Or feel guilty like Pistol Whip thinks I do? Or angry like Madame Dove? Or at least apathetic like Candy Hearts?

I just felt nothing...

Author's Note

Perhaps my darkest chapter yet. Thumbs and comments are the coal that keeps my writing engine running. So please, take a moment to click the thumbs up if you like and leave a comment.