Chapter One: And I Walked Right Through The Door
HOOFINGTON CASINO HOOFINGTON, EQUESTRIA 9:00 AM, APRIL 28
The city was alive.
The lifebeat of the city of Hoofington pulsed and pumped through its streets and alleyways. The bright neon lights, plastered garishly on the side of the skyscrapers like a coat of glowing paint, shone an otherworldly glow down upon the human, zebra, and pony residents as they bustled their way through the veins and arteries of the city.
The civilization shone like a gem within a rumpled sheet of velvet. Nestled in the Skyward mountain range, the diamond shone beams of its ambience onto the surrounding geological features. The tops of the mountains were already white with snow, but the valley bellow was a lush green before merging with the massive, unnaturally-lit concrete forest. The valley below was criss-crossed with bubbling streams, and the foothills were honeycombed with caves that could be used as bandit hideouts, or fallbacks in the case of a natural disaster.
The gem got angry in the morning. The lights that shone from the city today were warm shades of red and orange, matching the blazing salvo of crimson stemming from the ocean horizon to the north. The sun shot out yellow bands, frothing outward and capping the white peaks with ardent bonfires of shining heat. As the light reverberated off of the icy tips at night, one could almost mistake the top of the mountains as stars, giving off pinpricks of white, tiny suns.
From the top of the Hoofington Casino, one could see the pricks of light as the orb dipped below the ocean. The large needle-like tower was a bit like a nail buried tip-first into the large casino building, which looked a bit like a child had arranged building blocks haphazardly and let ropes of neon light fall over it.
Jack fucking hated all of it.
Codenamed "Trebax", John "Jack" Lexington had been transported into Equestria along with his three friends: Cade, Tim, and Christian. Within a group of around twenty thousand random humans, the group banded together and made its way through the confused, man-torn Equestria.
You see, most of the humans that had been "shifted" on that fateful day had found honest careers. In the wide land of Equestria, there was no lack of want for labor workers; humans were ideal for dexterity-oriented jobs such as assembly and construction(and reaching things on the top shelf). They were paid well and bought land, another commodity not in short supply.
However, the four were not yet of human labor working age. Ranging from ages fifteen to seventeen, they decided to band together and do something that had not been done in Equestria for a thousand years.
Professional crime.
Within almost two months, the group became one of the most feared urban legends in Equestria; known for their seamless heists and lack of any evidence at the scenes. Their robberies were so flawless and perfect that they became known as the "Hoofington Ghosts", and the Equestrian Royal Guard began denying any and all allegations that the Ghosts even existed.
But then happened something that eventually happens to all good robbers: the addiction. After that fateful tenth heist, the Ghosts began to realize that stealing was more than a method of survival. It was a way of life.
It was an addiction.
It was their fuel.
...
And that's a pretty good damn thing, because they absolutely SUCK at everything else.
*** *** ***
"Hey Jack. We've got three guards at the north entrance. They just changed."
Cade "Jackshot" Williams, doing his best to look casual, gave Jack a light tap on the shoulder as he passed by the poker table. Jack scratched the back of his head nonchalantly.
The inside of the casino was so flashy that it could almost be mistaken for the outside. An impressive feat, noted Jack. The massive interior space was nearly the size of a football field, furnished well with industrial overhead lighting and girthy I-beam cathedral rafters.
The center of the space was filled to the brim with an assortment of slot machines, which gave off a seizure-inducing plethora of bright, flashing L.E.D.'s. Various ponies and humans of all races and colors milled about, each individual utilizing their own unique top-secret route to get to the most machines, as fast as possible. Around the writhing mass of speed-gamblers and slots was a ring of green fuzzy tables- the card games. At each table sat four or five wealthy ponies or humans, each one struggling to gain the metal upper hand over their multiple opponents. Every once in a while the high slapping sound of card-slamming rang throughout the space, punctuating the rambunctious laughs of the winning players.
"Hey." Jack, sitting at a Blackjack table and playing against four opponents, slyly reached to scratched again and fingered his earpiece. "No names over the comms."
"Yeah, I said Jack. Your legal name is John." Cade gave a wicked grin as he circled inside the ring of tables, skirting the center mass of machines as he adjusted his sleeves. He wore a thin black tux to fit his slim form, and had his short brown hair gelled for the occasion. His bright blue eyes scanned the area with a cold intelligence that separated them from his smile. As his voice came through the mic, an extremely slight Scottish inflection gilding his voice that only the crew members could notice."Damn, I look good."
"Actually, you look like a jackass in an expensive suit." Christian's voice came through the communication systems, his Irish accent placing a roll on is R's.
"Sodder." Replied Cade.
"Twit."
"Jackass." Jack chimed in as he slammed his hand onto the table. Twenty-One. He raked in the winnings.
Christian, dressed in his ordinary fur coat, watched the game from his spot opposite Jack's table. Jack was doing well. Not well enough to attract attention, but well. He bet low, and every few hands he would pick up a Blackjack.
"Wow, man. Keep going like that, and we won't HAVE to rob the place." Chris let out a low whistle. A casino attendant from inside the river of moving gamblers eyed his dirty shoes disapprovingly before he drove him off with a menacing glare.
Cade spared a glance at Christian as he completed his half-lap around the ring. The heavyset Irishman was dressed specifically to separate from the others; his mail-boy cap pressed down his curly brunette hair as he fidgeted with his ratty white T-shirt and jeans. He winked as he passed by in the crowd.
Christian angrily glared back. "I don't understand why I don't get to wear the fancy suit this time." He said through the comm.
Jack stood up with his winnings, leaving the Blackjack table looking annoyed, and started through the crowd towards the two. He tapped his mic. "Guys, weren't Tim and Luckshot supposed to patch us through by nine AM?"
*** *** ***
"Tim, WHY IS THE MAINFRAME ON FIRE?!?"
"I PRESSED THE GREEN BUTTON!" Screamed Tim.
"THE GREEN BUTTON?" The grey unicorn tapped a few oversized keys on the console in front of him, his face looking frustrated as hell. "YOU NEVER, NEVER PUSH THE GREEN BUTTON! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO EEVEER TOUCH THE GREEN BUTTON!"
Timothy and Luckshot, the genius-tacticians for the Ghosts, sat alone in a dark room. Two of the four walls of the tiny, almost closet-like area were adorned with a multitude of bright video screens which each projected a moving image into Luckshot and Tim's eyes. In front of each swivel-chair there was a large keyboard- the one in front of the pony had unusually large keys to account for the lack of fingers.
Tim, the human, began typing furiously while staring at the console screen at the bottom of his array. The display, which was smoking out of the edges, flooded with horizontal green text.
The human's hazel eyes began to display an expression of relief through his wire-frame glasses as he slowed down the typing. "Luckshot, get us ready to patch through. I think that the fire is just that joint Cade threw down the ventilation shaft earlier."
"Really? Huh." Said Luckshot while carefully tapping a few keys. "You'd think he'd keep them cleaner, considering he's crawling around in them half the time."
The grey unicorn smiled despite himself. About a month ago, after he was busted for hacking the Royal Guard database, a criminal organization claiming to be the famous Ghosts had approached him with an offer: Work for us and make tons of money, or we steal all of your money and assets so you have to.
He chose the second option, ergo he was here.
"Alright, I'm patching through the data." He brushed aside his black hair. "Do me a favor, Tim, and set up the holo thingy?"
Tim swiveled his chair, facing the third wall, and pulled out a flat black drawer. A small lens, facing upward in the middle, begun to glow.
"Patching through. Luckshot said. "What time is it?
"Nine oh three."
As Tim said that, Luckshot tapped the "return" button and shoved off of the wall to spin and face the lens. "Come on..."
The glowing lens, spinning in place, began to project a stationary cube of transparent light. The cube morphed to take the shape of the casino- the geometric solid taking the shape of the children's blocks again. The central block assumed the form of the main hall- the massive chamber was flanked on all four sides by smaller areas. Underneath the structure, a long, thin shaft ran down to the vault floor.
"Yes!" Luckshot clopped his front hooves together, and spun in his chair.
"Alright, I'm gonna patch through comms." Tim said.
He tapped a button. "We're through." He spun to face the hologram.
"Hey guys!" Said Tim. "Sorry we patched through late, we had to get Cade's joint out of-"
"Been a long bloody time, then!" Tim winced as the feedback from Chris's mic pierced his ear. As the Irishman spoke, his red marker appeared on the northeast corner of the main chamber.
"Yeah, we've been gambling and drinking for an hour. It's been horrible." Deadpanned Jack. His marker was in the table section.
Luckshot turned to the hologram with Tim, holding a marked-up piece of looseleaf paper.
"Alright, guys. We're gonna start. Cade, talk so we can see your marker."
"I'm wearing a fancy tux."
"Good." Said Luckshot as the marker appeared, in the middle of the bar crowd.
