Rob's New Beginnings

Chapter 6

The town began to calm down after the events of the 31st, a week ago to the day. That night had some ponies proclaiming ‘sanctuary,’ while others had been at a loss as to what had happened; needless to say, a lot of the town was reeling from the recent Nightmare Night. That didn’t mean, however, that they hadn’t enjoyed themselves.

The pumpkins that the McCloy ranch had provided for the pies, cakes, and even cupcakes ended up being stuffed to their brims with the gooey matter inside them, allowing the farm and bakery to make many products of each confectionery. There ended up being a surplus, bringing a little extra revenue to Sweet Apple Acres and Sugarcube Corner. The treats sold clear through the week up to the 5th, when they finally ran out (and for good measure; sales had actually slowed down near that point).

Rob, having had a very fitful night of sleep, was awoken by the sound of hooves trotting up the path leading towards his tree-home, and the edge of the Everfree Forest. He lay still in his bed, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘How early is it? It’s barely bright out,’ he wondered.

“Hello? Is this the residence of… Rob?” a voice called out from below the tree’s canopy.

“O-one second, let me get up first,” he hastily called out. He shook himself awake, and climbed down the ladder attached to the trunk of the tree. “What can I do for you?” he said, trying to put a cheery business-like tone into it.

“I take it your Rob, right?” one colt of a pair said. Both were dressed in slightly off-black colored suits… which put Rob off quite a bit.

“Yes…”

“We… um, we read the sign attached to the ranch home’s front door, telling us that we could find you here.”

Recalling having made the sign, Rob replied, “yeah, I put it up in case anypony needs me when I’m not working.” He then noticed the grim looks on their faces. “What can I do for you…?”

“We’re not quite sure how to put this, and we want to break this to you as gently as we can…”

His comment garnered nothing but silence… for a few minutes, Rob didn‘t speak a word… but it was evident from his paling face that he was about to react just as they had seen, possibly countless times before.

When he did respond, it came out of his mouth shakily.

“…please… don’t… don’t say what I think you are about to…” Rob could only stumble out, his mind beginning to lock out all other thoughts, undergoing a complete mental lockdown.

“I’m sorry… Rob… but Franklin McCloy the Second has passed away.”

Nothing but the wind answered them, as Rob lapsed back into silence… but the tiny tremors his body occasionally gave were clear enough to them.

Fighting back strong tears in his eyes and the harsh biting taste of bile, he muttered, “…when?”

“The doctors who were running diagnostics estimate it was very early the morning of the 5th… it was a peaceful passing, they say.”

This last bit was not heard by Rob, however. He couldn’t think… he seemed to him that he couldn’t even speak, to respond…

Finally, after a few minutes, Rob managed to speak to the pair of gentlecolts. “Thank you for… for letting me know…”

“It was the very least we could do… I personally know how it is to lose your father to an illness…”

Rob nodded, as if in thanks, and the gentlecolts meandered off. When they left, Rob thought to himself, ‘they thought I was Frank’s son?

‘Come to think of it, did he have children?’ Letting his mind wander, he began to think about things to be done due to this. ‘I’ll have to talk around town, see if he did have children… notify them, set up a funeral, then… actually have the funeral…

‘We’ll have to talk about the ranch, the property… my job… and what might happen to it all.’

Priorities in mind, he set about town, trying to not let on his intentions… but as he passed by the Corner, he was… standing. Pinkie apparently picked up on his feelings, and decided against pouncing him.

“Hey, Rob… why the low mood?” she asked.

“……I’d rather not say right now…”

“…oh… can I come with you, then?”

He gave much consideration to this, before responding, “I guess… you were bound to find out anyway.”

“…find out what?”

“…” Silence was all he gave the pink mare, wrapped up in his emotions, while thinking of what to ask some of the town’s folks.

They walked on, Rob intent on finding somepony who knew more about McCloy, Pinkie intent on finding out what was distressing Rob so.

Eventually, the duo stumbled upon Nurse Redheart. ‘She might know something,’ Rob thought. “Excuse me… Nurse Redheart?”

“Yes, dear?” she responded kindly.

“I was wondering… if you could help me with information…”

“Probably dear… but about what? Or who?” she inquired, a little confused.

“It’s… it’s about McCloy…”

The pink mare next to him froze up.

“Well, what about him, dear? I haven’t seem him around in a while.”

Rob shifted slightly, unsure of what to say to either mare hanging onto his words. “McCloy… Frank, I should say… he’s…”

“Dear, you shouldn’t hesitate… please, tell me what’s wrong.” Redheart sounded worried.

“Alright… Frank is gone.”

“What?”

“He’s passed away… a pair of gentlecolts, probably from Manehattan, told me this morning.”

“Oh, dear! From what??”

“He had pneumonia…” Pinkie replied to her, having not spoken the whole conversation.

“Oh, dear… I was afraid it would come back eventually,” Redheart said with a hint of sadness.

“He had it before?” Rob was surprised to hear this.

“Yes. It was only months ago… I didn’t have the proper medication at the time, so I could only halt its progress… I told him to come back, but he never did…”

“Why do you think he never came back?” Rob could only ask.

“Well… you know McCloy… too proud of himself, and a little too stubborn. He was convinced that it was truly nothing, and he said he needed to be working, not resting… so he might have blown it off… I’m so sorry, dear…”

Rob was slightly stunned by this. The fact that McCloy had denied treatment… just to work. “Thank you, Nurse… but the ponies from earlier didn’t tell me anything more than his… condition… I was really wondering, do you know his immediate family?”

Nurse Redheart had to think of this, before responding, “well, I’m a little shaky on details, but I believe he did have a son in Manehattan, and maybe one in Fillydelphia. I might have contact information on the Manehattan son. I’ll have it to you when I get around to it, but for now, my break’s almost over… again, I’m terribly sorry dear…”

Rob felt the acrid taste from earlier, and with difficulty, responded, “it’s alright… I’ll be fine… thanks for your help, Nurse Redheart.” With this, she trotted off, getting back to her station. It was then that he felt pressure on his side. Rob looked over to see Pinkie leaning heavily on him as he talked.

“Pinkie… are you alright…?”

“I’m fine, Rob… are you?”

“…I will be… eventually…”

“You know I… just want you… you to be happy…” she tried to say, with great difficulty, as if she were trying to admit something.

“Thanks, Pinkie… I appreciate it…

“I need to get working on other things… you’re welcome to join me, if you would like…” Rob stated, to nopony in general, but towards Pinkie.

“That’d be nice… but right now, I need to get back to the Corner… I’m sure there’s a whole line of customers right now!”

“Heh, well, better get there now, then. They might be hungry!” Rob put a false sense of enthusiasm in his voice.

“Heehee, yeah! Gotta go!” she said, with a little renewed energy, despite what she heard about McCloy. Rob watched her go before turning towards the one place he almost definitely did not want to be at the moment.

Approaching the ranch, he was surprised to see a pony awaiting his arrival. As he stepped into view, the colt, dressed in a business suit, much like the two from this morning, approached Rob.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Rob asked with earnest.

“Appropriately, yes. You’re Rob, I presume,” the colt asked, with a voice that sounded high pitched, but not ‘feminine‘ high… it also had a sense of clarity to it. From what Rob could see of the pony before him, the gentlecolt bore a coat color like Frank’s, but lighter, and a mane that was nearly pure white.

“You are the…” He paused to think back to this morning. “…third pony to ask me that today.”

“And with good reason. I’m Francis McCloy.”

Rob stood there stunned. “Really now. I was just trying to contact a McCloy, actually-”

“Presumably so. From what I’ve heard, I was the second notified about his death-” at which Rob slightly winced, not wanting to hear this again- “and wanted to find the first pony told about this… I’m a little surprised.”

“About what?”

“You’re not related to him at all, are you?” he inquired forcefully.

“…can I venture a guess, and say that you are from Manehattan?”

Francis only stared. “…how would you know that?”

Rob replied rather quickly, “well, it’s your behavior, the way you dress, and your accent.”

“Really? I have an accent?”

“Well, not so much of an accent, but lack of one. See, having worked under your father as a ranchhoof for… a month and a half now, I’ve heard the way he talks… and he has an accent. Cloplin, I presume?”

The colt stared on. “You’re good.”

“Well, I lived in Stalliongrad. You learned to pick out accents, especially if you yourself was devoid of one,” Rob replied.

“Hm, it’s cold there huh. Anyway, so, you said my accent, my dressing habits, and my attitude. Let’s talk about the ‘dressing’ part. What makes you think I’m from Manehattan based on that?”

“Simply put, you dress like a big business man. That’s not common at all here in Ponyville, or even Stalliongrad. In fact, two places that I know of where it is, is Manehattan, and Fillydelphia.”

The colt looked surprised, if just a little bit. “Clever. I do in fact work at a business in Manehattan. Fourth seat of power.”

Rob’s turn to be a little surprised. “Wow, fourth? In what?” Before Francis could reply, Rob stopped him. “Hm… it’s not fashion. You’re too fancily dressed-up for power. I’m gonna say finances.”

“Heheh, strike one, kid. I actually am in the power industry. Gotta control the controllers of power if anypony wants running water.”

Rob shook this off. “Mm, I was close.”

“Now… what about my behavior?”

“You wanted to get right to the chase, like you were rushing, but I know you aren’t in any particular rush to visit our town. Probably because it takes a bit to reach Ponyville from Manehattan, so you had to set aside a few days to get here, take care of business, and get back..”

“You’ve got some talent there, kid.”

“Would you knock it off with the ‘kid?’” Rob said, slightly frustrated. “I really only guessed… and I’m not some dumb rural hick.” Almost immediately, he regretted his words, and, under his breath, said, “sorry, AJ, even though you didn’t hear what I said.”

Back at Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack’s nose itched, then she let out a soft sneeze.

“Somepony’s talkin’ ‘bout you, sis,” Big Mac drawled on.

“I reckoned.”

“What was that, erm… what’s your name again?”

“Rob.”

“Right, Rob. Anyway, I… suppose you’re right, you’re definitely not stupid. But I wasn’t sure of your connection to Pop.”

“Which I’m sorry to hear about… honestly.”

Francis looked at Rob as if he’d been hit. “Why would you be sorry, exactly? I don’t recall you being more than his ranchhoof,” he lashed out, the sorrow beginning to crack through his thick citypony exterior.

Rob was taken aback. “If you would care to know a little about me, then listen.

“I was his only ranchhoof he had in a while, according to him, and it was him that had given me what I needed to even live in Ponyville! He gave me the wood which now makes up my house!” Rob was more than a little miffed at the tone the Manehattan colt had given him.

Francis McCloy started fumbling his words before he finally found his voice… but it was a soft tone, rather than the sharp bout he had just belted out. “I’m sorry about that… I really am. I’m mighty upset about Pop… you, as well, it seems…”

Rob took his time in responding, not wanting to set off the colt again. “It’s alright… while we weren’t related by blood, I thought of him as a fatherly figure… like I said, he helped set my roots here… he gave me a job, and materials and even tools to build my home.”

“Well, why were you building your home in the first place?”

“Still am, actually.”

“Well… why?” Francis was curious to know.

“Well… I didn’t technically ‘move’ from Stalliongrad… rather, I ran from it.”

This piqued Francis’ interest. “And why is that?”

Rob only sighed… “This is something I’ve told very few ponies about… but you see these gears on me?”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Well, I got this mark after discovering my love for mechanical things… levers, gears, pulleys, currents, flows, the works. I even studied all I could possibly attempt to! But my parents had others plans for me. They saw my behavior, and reacted with pure scorn. They wanted me to follow the path my great-grand-dad had, and become a fisherpony. A sea merchant!

“They wanted me to follow this path because both my father and grand-father didn’t go down it… they did what they thought was good for them, which ended up not being much better for them anyways… but I knew that what I was wanting to do was right for me…”

“Jeez, ki- Rob,” Francis said, stopping himself before calling him a ‘kid’ again, “you responded to that by running away? Seems a little… drastic.”

“You don’t understand… they had been talking about me being a sea merchant for years, even before I had my mark! They were making my destiny! You can see how wrong that is, right?”

Francis sighed before speaking. “That I can… that I can.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been shaping my own son to follow in my own steps… and didn’t realize how uncomfortable it must be making him.”

“Well, I can’t really say what you should do, so…”

Francis thought for a while, making the silence seem more and more awkward. But before long, Rob felt a pony step next to him, and there was Pinkie, as bouncy as normal. “Heya Rob! Who’s this?”

“Oh, hi, Pinkie. Meet Francis McCloy…”

“Oh… hi…”

“Hey, kiddo, don’t be scared of me. I’m just his son, is all. At least, one of them.”

Rob asked in response, “so how many sons does-- did he have?”

“Just two. You’re looking at one. The other, who lives in Fillydelphia, is named Franklin McCloy the Third.”

“…and Frank was the second one, eh?”

“Yep, first one was Pop’s great-great-grand-daddy. He was named after the man, who fought valiantly in the Royal Guard, may he rest in peace.”

“What does your brother do in Fillydelphia?”

Francis’ face scrunched up a bit. “Technically, half-brother… and, he’s a police officer, following the steps of the great colt generations before him.”

Rob then looked at Pinkie, and asked, “hey, Pinkie, you alright?”

“Mm, sure, I feel fine… just worn down… is all.”

“You sure? I don’t want you to break down again.”

“I said I’m alright!” Pinkie said in exasperation. “When did you start worrying about me so much?”

“Well, I… didn’t like it when you… broke down a week or so back, and… it made me nervous.”

Francis chuckled. “Well, seeing as how you’re preoccupied, I’ll be heading to where I’ll be staying tonight. We can talk after the funeral… seems there are matters to discuss…”

Rob, hearing these words, and trying to make two and two work in his head, said, “Wait, discuss what?”

“Like I said, Rob, after the funeral… Ciao.”

He started walking away, before turning around, and saying, “ya know, you two make a cute couple.”

Both mare and stallion turned away from Francis in great embarrassment, Rob turning a dark red, and Pinkie going nearly maroon. Francis chuckled as he walked away from the pair, both still reeling in shock from the words ‘cute couple.’

It took him a few minutes, but eventually, Rob calmed himself down to the point where he was comfortable talking. He turned around, and saw… nothing. Pinkie had vanished. ‘That random mare,’ Rob could only think, before remembering some of Francis's words: “We can talk after the funeral.”

The thought put a chill in his chest. It occurred to him, also, that Francis never mentioned what time it was at. Rob set off, ready to face what he thought would be a difficult event.

The skies above Ponyville were light gray, almost promising rain, but giving none of the sort; almost oblivious to the event transgressing below them, they waited patiently.

Not a lot of ponies showed up to the funeral of Franklin the Second, but those that were there included some of the townsfolk, there to pay their respects to a neighbor and, to some, a friend; the two sons, Francis and Franklin the Third, along with Francis’s wife, preaching safe departure for their father to the Heavens; and Rob, mostly there against his own will, having forced himself to attend, and Pinkie Pie, for reasons unknown, but in a state of sadness.

The event passed with little ruckus, but with a clear undertone of dismay from everypony in attendance…

As if on their own cue, the clouds opened up what little rain they contained, but it wasn’t much, to pretty much everypony’s surprise.

It almost seemed like a good omen, as if they said, ‘things will be alright, things will be just fine. We will take mighty good care of Frank.’

Almost everypony left the funeral without saying a word.

The next day, Rob was yet again awoken by the sound of hooves. But this time, his inability to sleep was created by the previous day’s events transpiring.

“Hello, up there? Robby-colt?” the voice of Francis floated up to his ears.

“Y-yeah, just a minute… hold on.”

After climbing down the ladder, his mane disheveled, he asked, “What can I do for you?”

“Well, we need to talk.”

“…about?” It was here that Rob noticed Frank III standing off of the path.

“The ranch, sport.”

“….and what about it?”

“Well, we were wondering if… if you’d be willing to work there as a permanent employee.”

Rob was almost aghast, if his shocked appearance wasn’t apparent enough. He kept silent for a moment too long.

“…sport, what’s wrong?” Francis asked out of concern.

“N… nothing. I’d love to…

“But I’m not sure I’d be able to live down what happened there…”

Francis nodded his head in understanding. “I meant you no trauma in asking, but we needed somepony to at least look after the ol’ ranch for us.

“Neither of us, living in such distant cities as we do, are capable of doing so ourselves, and besides, neither of us-- well, maybe excepting Frank,” he added, under a powerful glare from the latter pony, “--are strong enough to run it.”

“…I see.” Rob thought to himself for a while.

“I suppose I could check on it every so often, just to make sure no plant ponies sprout and try to invade,” he responded, adding a fleck of humor into the end.

Francis, and even Frank, broke out into laughter. “Ahahaha!! I like you, kid! I needed that laugh, too!

“Well, I’m glad you are at least willing to do such. I’ll make sure to wire your monthly check.”

“Wait, wait, wait-- I can’t be paid for something so simple! It’s not right!”

The businesspony only chuckled. “Sure you can… I’m paying you, Rob, to run a job for me, Francis, involving my property, the ranch land and house. If that is not legal, then somepony strike that from our fair list of legalities!”

“……I wouldn’t feel right doing so…”

“Robby, Robby… I understand… but I wouldn’t feel right denying you a legal obligation. Just, please… you worked so hard for him… and it would not be right to no longer pay his only employee.”

“…I suppose you have a valid point.”

“Damn right he does.” This was the first Frank had spoken in the last few days. His voice had a tinge of gravel to the svelte baritone undertones that boomed out whenever he spoke. “I’m a cop, kid, remember that. I know all about legalities and obligations just as much as this hothead here.”

“Ey, who are you calling a hothead, Frank??” Francis retorted.

“You!!”

“Alright! I get it,” Rob almost yelled out.

“Fine, I’ll take it… seeing as how it ‘isn’t right.’”

Francis clopped his front hooves together. “Wonderful. I’ll expect a letter every month, listing any charges needed to keep it in condition?”

“And why would I need to do that?” Rob wondered out loud, directed to Francis.

“Because, I plan to move out here with what little I have.”

This shocked Rob even further. “But… why? Why leave the fair city of Manehattan?”

“Well, kid,” Francis began to reply, sighing his way through it, “sometimes, the city life gets… harrowing. Theft, general crime… even the strict and by-the-painted-line style and life of business.

“And seeing this beautiful, quiet town made me realize it wasn’t for me.

“Me and my son are moving in in a few months. Please don’t let the ranch go to dismay.”

Rob was amazed… here was a city pony giving up his life, which Rob had thought was good, for a simple town. And more importantly, for Rob. ‘If I hadn’t taken that job, would this have transpired?’ he wondered.

“And you’ll receive 300 bits every month until we move, then 150.”

“‘Rob nearly fainted right there and then--’ oh, who could that be?” remarked the author, hearing a knock on his front door. He trotted over… only to find…

‘A raven?’

He turned around and, closing the door, returned to his parchment. Just as he began writing, he heard a voice…

‘Nevermore…’

Looking around, he found the raven perched upon his fireplace mantel! Staring at it, he watched it say, ‘Nevermore, Mister Machre. You will find, at this rate, to have no more viewers…… nevermore… nevermore…’

“Argh, shut up, you wretched bird! Is that the only reason you chose to visit me?!” Macre screamed in anguish! “I’m writing as fast as I possibly can, but ideas… they block the flow…”

‘Much like now?’

He stopped, thinking about this. “Y-yes, just like… now…” Thoroughly spooked, in what was a tiny, but substantial, cracking of the fourth wall, he set about writing once again.

‘Nevermore, Mister Ohm Machre… nevermore…’

Rob nearly fainted right there and then, but managed to hold on to consciousness, and possibly his sanity.

“I… I can’t thank you enough, Francis… this will last me quite a while!”

“I’m fairly sure of it, Robby… it’s well-deserved, as I’m sure you kept our father happy through his final weeks.”

Fighting back a few tears, he managed to reply, “Yes… I am sure… I did… again, I cannot thank you enough.”

“Then stop thanking!” Frank spoke up yet again, obviously of little words until it counted. “Start doing!”

“Heh, you’re right… I shall.”

“Then we’ll be off. Frank’s vacay for the half-year is almost over, and I have to plan.

“Au revoir! And may we meet yet again!” Francis said in goodbye, Frank III giving a curt, but generous nod, before the duo trotted off.

Rob watched them go, before his mind collected enough thoughts to make one:

‘Life is fortunate,

‘simultaneously, most

‘unforgiving, too.’

And indeed, life can be both good and bad.

Rob set off to begin his daily tasks. First off: he needed some sugary treats.

End of Chapter 6

AN: Hey all! I hoped you enjoyed this! I made it quite quite QUITE lengthy (sorry for that!) to make up for my profane nonexistence!

I may or may not continue them at this length. It depends on how much information I’ll need to express with my fair readers!!

‘Nevermore…’

SHUT UP YOU BLOODY BIRD!!

……

Ahem.

Welp, time for Chapter 7.

‘Nevermore…!’

ARGH!!! SOMEPONY HELP ME, I NEED SOME HELP!!!

...also, 'The Raven' is a work of literature by Edgar Allen Poe.

Just.... want to avoid trouble... eheh.