The Black Hoofby patridamChaptersPrologueChapter 1: An Offer You Can't RefuseChapter 2: Running DragonPrologueSpike entered the dimly lit restaurant and looked around. By his watch, he was four minutes late; he sincerely hoped his contact hadn't already left. The detective hadn't sounded particularly excited on the phone, but he had begrudgingly agreed to a meeting in a public place. Past the tables of oblivious ponies enjoying their lunch, he spied the white unicorn he had arranged to meet. “Detective Armor, right? Can I sit with you?” asked Spike. All he received was a stoic nod. As soon as he hung up his coat and sat down, a waitress approached. As hungry as he was, he doubted this place had proper gemstones. “Hi, my name’s Bon Bon and I’ll be your server today! Can get you two gentleman anything?” the waitress asked with a bubbly congeniality that seemed surprisingly genuine. Detective Armor turned down the offer; Spike asked for a coffee. If all went to plan, he’d be here for a while. The waitress trotted off toward the kitchen. As soon as she left, the detective said, “You know, it’s not my habit to be sitting with the likes of you.” “I have a… business proposition for you, detective,” replied Spike. “Oh, you do now, do you? I’m no businessman, and if I were, I’d steer clear of your kind,” the detective said, musing Spike’s choice of words. “I don’t do just go around doing business with the law, neither. But this, this is a little out of the ordinary. It’s good for you, and your bosses, and good for me. It concerns a... trade I’d like to make,” said Spike, searching for more persuasive terms. “Trade?” asked Detective Armor, his interest piqued. “Well, let’s say - hypothetically, of course - that I am in a fairly high position in an organization that doesn't exactly follow the rules. The kind of group that people like you would do well to know more about. I have my own reasons for no longer…” Spike trailed off as he was interrupted by the waitress’s return. “Your coffee, sir,” Bon Bon said pleasantly as she laid down a steaming mug. “Thank you,” said Spike, as she walked away. Again turning towards the detective, he said, “Let’s just say that I don’t want to be hanging around with these people any more, but it ain't exactly easy to leave after you've gotten as far as me,” said Spike, trying to avoid any details until it was clear that he would get somewhere with this cop. “I get it, you’ll get some cement shoes instead of those nice new Hoity Toity Loafers, right? Oh, right, they’d just be ‘hypothetical’ cement shoes. Look, you might want me to help you, but I can’t go around handing out protection to every corner thug,” Detective Armor said, trying to distance himself from the dragon’s troubles. “Look, Shining - Can I call you Shining?” Spike asked inquisitively. Detective Armor replied with a resounding, “No.” “Detective, you got any family? I've got a wife and kid, and I don’t want them to have problems because I got greedy and stupid,” pleaded Spike as he stirred cream into his coffee. “None since my sister died, but that’s not the issue here. If you want me to help you and your family, you gotta give me something,” said Shining as he finally dropped the ‘gruff’ act in favor of getting a deal on the table. “I’m not asking for something for nothing, I've got some information you in particular ought to take interest in. You know the name ‘Celestino’?” asked Spike, his wise-ass attitude beginning to show through. “As in Don Celestino, the mafia boss? Of course, there isn't a cop in this city who hasn't heard of her. Me, least of all, but I guess you already knew that,” said Shining as he suddenly realized why the dragon chose him out of all the cops in Manehattan. “Well, it’s why I contacted you in particular, yes. I've worked with her for years, and now that she wants to rub me out, here I am. I’m prepared to name names, dates, accounts, everything. Enough to put her, and all of her goons, away for life. I can even tell you what exactly what happened to your sister. All I need is protection for me and my family," said Spike. “It ain't Hearth’s Warming Eve, you know. If I’m going to go to the commissioner with this, I need to know everything you've got," said the detective, readying himself for an excuse. “Sure, If you’ve got the time I can tell you my whole story from how I got in, all the way to the here and now," said Spike, finally cracking a smile. Turning back towards the bar, he shouted, “Miss… Bon Bon, you might as well bring the whole pot of joe over.” Resuming speaking to Spike, he prodded, “Well? If you’ve got as much to spill as you say, you'd better get started.” Chapter 1: An Offer You Can't RefuseSpike started at the beginning. “I wasn't always in the mob, of course. I used to be a taxi driver, if you can believe that. Even though I didn't make too much money, and I worked from sunrise to sundown, I was glad that I even had a job. Those were the worst years of the depression and there were people with much worse luck than me. It was that very taxi that brought Celestino’s people to me in the first place. This one day, must’ve been in September or October of ‘30, I was on break …” The dragon descended from taxi for a cigarette break, no small task considering his diminutive stature. It didn't help that the cab, emblazoned across the side with ‘Manehattan Cab Co.’ was an Everfree Eight. Sure, sure; it was more powerful and had more gears than your run-of-the-mill Pansy Model P, but it was big and hard to maneuver, and most of all, tall. He leaned against the rear wheel and lit up a cigarette. The streetlamps flickered on in unison, which meant it was almost exactly seven PM. Even though it was already dark, he still had three more hours before he could return to the rat-infested tenement he called home. For a moment in the evening chill, everything seemed perfectly calm. Suddenly, he was startled the sound of a tremendous car crash. From around the corner, two ponies emerged, one with an obvious limp. The limping one shouted, as she tripped and fell over her own hooves, to the white unicorn beside her, “Rarity! They got me, dammit. Right in the wing!” Rarity pulled the pegasus up by her front legs and said “Don’t stop now, we haven’t time. Look, there’s a taxi, we’ll be fine…” That’s when the unicorn aimed a nickel-plated pistol square at Spike’s head. It became clear to him that these two needed to get out of there lickety-split, and he wasn't inclined to argue. He nearly dropped his keys while unlocking the cab, and he pulled himself up into his seat as Rarity helped her blue pegasus friend up into the passenger seat. Even though her rainbow mane implied friendliness, this injured mare was anything but. “Where to?” Spike asked nervously. “Anywhere! Just get there damn fast, faster than ‘Miss Priss’ over here,” shouted the pegasus. Rarity might’ve taken offense to that, but she was too busy firing out the back window at the car that had just turned the corner. An Everfree Eight, just like the taxi, it sported a violet paint job. When it got closer, it became obvious that all three passengers were firing right at his cab. Spike stomped the gas - it was clear that if anyone was going to survive, he’d need to lose his new “customers’” pursuers. Spike made a quick right, threading the taxi between a streetlamp and the corner of a building. His pursuers made the corner wide, on the road. He drove down the alley straight ahead, past the abandoned Tornado Theater, and then swerved left and quickly right. He led them through the office construction project that was abandoned after the market crash; but they were still on him, though the front seat gunman was out of commission thanks to Rarity’s precision with that semi-auto. They even managed to catch up enough to try to knock the taxi off the road, but before they could, Spike squeezed it between an Elevated Rail post and a building - and it was too late for them to avoid it. The other Everfree hit the post head on, going at least forty. The hood folded and shoved back into the passenger compartment, and the front axle split. They certainly didn't hang around to see who survived, but it couldn't have been good for the driver. After they were in the clear, Rarity exclaimed, “Fantastic! We've made it!” The rainbow pegasus said, “Thanks, kid - the name’s Dashie, by the way. My mamma called my Dash Rainbondo, but my friends call me Dashie - and you, you’re a friend. Now, take us to Celestino’s Bar; it’s on Sumner Street in Little Canterlot.” After a short but silent drive, Spike pulled the car up across from the bar. The two ponies exited the car, but Dashie came up to his window and said to him “Wait here for a little, kid; Rarity will get you a little something for your troubles from Ms. Celestino herself.” Rarity, already a few feet ahead, called back, “Oh yes dear, thank you for the help.” The two mares entered the bar, passing by a stallion and a mare that stood out in front, guarding the door. One of them, the mare, eyed him suspiciously. Spike felt mighty nervous; didn't ponies like this usually kill witnesses? He was a witness, and he didn't want to end up with a bullet to the head. He tried to reassure himself. Maybe these mares were different. The rainbow one - no, Dashie - Dashie called him a friend. He hyperventilated as he tried to stay calm. Were those stories he heard about this crime family? No, those weren't about the Celestinos, they were about the Lunettis, weren't they? He wasn't sure, but he racked his brain trying to remember. Rarity emerged from the bar. She trotted across the road, without any kind of giveaway on her face. Spike could feel his heart beating louder and louder. As she used her horn’s telekinesis to reach into a jacket pocket - oh, no, that’s where they keep their guns - Spike tried to start up the taxi. Before he could, Rarity arrived at the car window and presented him with an overstuffed envelope. “Consider this a thank you from Ms. Celestino, as well as myself and Dashie. It should be enough to cover the damages to your car, as well as a healthy compensation for your services,” said Rarity. “Yeah, of course, thanks. Give Ms. Celestino my regards,” replied Spike. “Ms. Celestino would like me to tell you that she is very grateful. If you ever need anything, you know you can come back and ask for help - the don doesn't forgot about friends who have helped her or her mares out. If you were interested, I’m sure we could find you a job here - and it would pay well. We always have positions for poni...dragons with skills like you. Looking down at his feet, Spike replied with a stutter, “Oh, yeah… I’ll uh, think about it, really, thanks…I’d better go, you know to… uh, fix the car and… other… things.” Noticing the apprehension, Rarity reassured him. “It’s fine, darling, I understand. Just… consider the offer. And, I hope I don’t need to tell you that this matter is only between ourselves, capiche? Take care.” Later that evening, after Spike pulled his battered and bullet-ridden cab up to his apartment, he climbed up five flights of stairs and locked the door behind him. When he opened the envelope, he nearly had a heart attack. There was more than enough to fix the cab - hell, there was enough to buy another car! He considered the offer, if only for a moment, but he decided he didn't want to join up with some criminals. He wouldn't last long if a night like this was a routine occurrence! He resolved to get the cab fixed and try to forget about it all as soon as possible. Chapter 2: Running DragonA week or so later, Spike’s taxi was finally fixed. He had enjoyed his ‘time off’, but the money left over from the repairs was gone and he had to return to the grind if he expected to eat and pay his rent. Starting at the downtown taxi stand, he took his first customer to the Faustian cathedral uptown, and the next then to the hospital in the New Orange district, and so on, and so on. He'd almost forgot how monotonous daily life was after that brief… no,no - he cleared his adventure with those ponies out of his mind. Eventually, he had a very insistent custom whom he delivered to the F&F department store in Little Canterlot. He’d only been at it for about an hour, but since he was only just getting back in the swing of things, he sat back in the front seat and took a quick break. He couldn't help but notice he was only a few blocks from Celestino’s bar. He hadn't been on break for more than 20 seconds before a baseball bat smashed into the front driver’s window, startling him and sending shattered glass across his lap. “THE HELL?” exclaimed Spike. A brown earth pony dragged him out of the seat and onto the ground, and spat on his face. “Ms. Lunetti ain't too pleased with you, boy. We’re gonna have to teach you a lesson - nobody crosses us and gets away with it,” said the pony as his friend, a yellow unicorn, started to smash his taxi with a bat. Spike surmised, as he was being kicked in the face, that these two were in the car behind him when he saved those two mobsters. These two ponies wore the fancy suits he had come to associate with the mafia. Not only did they survive, they took it upon themselves to take revenge on him. “Lemon here’ll fix up your face a bit!” spat the brown pony. But when the bat descended, Spike stopped it with his claws and made a break for it. He ran towards a nearby alley - he couldn’t fight ponies, but he might be able to lose them if he was quick enough. That hope fell when he heard the distinctive sound of a revolver being loaded, and the chatter of running hoovers, from behind him. He ducked in through a passageway into a wide alley, passing by a green unicorn muttering about a meeting that somepony hadn’t arrived for. He turned a quick corner and descended a set of stairs, but he heard a bullet whiz by his ear. He turned a corner and dodged a gray pegasus trying in vain to fix a decrepit Pansy Model F. That pegasus actually managed to trip on of the pursuers, the one without the gun, unfortunately. As Spike came out of the alley onto the sidewalk, the unicorn fired two rounds. One grazed his hat - he’d better not slow down. He ducked into the next alley, on the same side. He climbed up a set of stairs onto a balcony, managing to upset a pink and yellow earth mare. She nearly fainted when she heard the next bullet splinter through the floorboards of the balcony. He jumped from the balcony to the next, and then he jumped down onto the top of a Pansy Model P and from there onto the ground. Another bullet ricocheted off of the front fender and was sent skyward. Spike ran through a clothesline hanging low, and pulled it forward as he did. When he let go, it sprang back into the the face of the unicorn mare pursuing him. She recoiled in pain and let off a fifth shot, this one completely missing its mark and shattering a second story window. She didn't give up the chase, however. Spike passed through another passageway, where a cream colored mare with a pink and blue mane was grumbling about a romantic meeting. As he passed by her, Spike managed to shout “She’s on the next street!” The mare expressed her thanks, but was shoved out of the way by the yellow unicorn. Spike quickly ducked into an alley across the street - he was very close to Celestino’s bar, now. He ran down the alley and chose to go straight rather than turn left. Bad choice. Spike found himself in a dead end, cornered by the black suit-clad unicorn. She raised her small snub up to his head, smirked, and pulled the trigger. *clink* That distinctive noise of an empty chamber momentarily baffled the mare, and Spike reacted quickly, ducking under her arm and turning right. He ended up on the same side of Sumner street as Celestino’s bar, and ran inside. Lunetti’s mare must not have been very smart, because she followed him right inside. A half hour later, Spike was drinking with Dashie, and his attacker was being loaded into the trunk of a car in the yard behind the bar. Spike figured that he might as well give these ponies a chance - they’d saved him, and being a taxi driver was out if he wanted to stay safe. He’d had a taste of the action, and he couldn't go back to that life anyway. If the suits all these ponies in the bar had on were anything to go by, he would certainly be paid a bit better in his new line of work.
PrologueSpike entered the dimly lit restaurant and looked around. By his watch, he was four minutes late; he sincerely hoped his contact hadn't already left. The detective hadn't sounded particularly excited on the phone, but he had begrudgingly agreed to a meeting in a public place. Past the tables of oblivious ponies enjoying their lunch, he spied the white unicorn he had arranged to meet. “Detective Armor, right? Can I sit with you?” asked Spike. All he received was a stoic nod. As soon as he hung up his coat and sat down, a waitress approached. As hungry as he was, he doubted this place had proper gemstones. “Hi, my name’s Bon Bon and I’ll be your server today! Can get you two gentleman anything?” the waitress asked with a bubbly congeniality that seemed surprisingly genuine. Detective Armor turned down the offer; Spike asked for a coffee. If all went to plan, he’d be here for a while. The waitress trotted off toward the kitchen. As soon as she left, the detective said, “You know, it’s not my habit to be sitting with the likes of you.” “I have a… business proposition for you, detective,” replied Spike. “Oh, you do now, do you? I’m no businessman, and if I were, I’d steer clear of your kind,” the detective said, musing Spike’s choice of words. “I don’t do just go around doing business with the law, neither. But this, this is a little out of the ordinary. It’s good for you, and your bosses, and good for me. It concerns a... trade I’d like to make,” said Spike, searching for more persuasive terms. “Trade?” asked Detective Armor, his interest piqued. “Well, let’s say - hypothetically, of course - that I am in a fairly high position in an organization that doesn't exactly follow the rules. The kind of group that people like you would do well to know more about. I have my own reasons for no longer…” Spike trailed off as he was interrupted by the waitress’s return. “Your coffee, sir,” Bon Bon said pleasantly as she laid down a steaming mug. “Thank you,” said Spike, as she walked away. Again turning towards the detective, he said, “Let’s just say that I don’t want to be hanging around with these people any more, but it ain't exactly easy to leave after you've gotten as far as me,” said Spike, trying to avoid any details until it was clear that he would get somewhere with this cop. “I get it, you’ll get some cement shoes instead of those nice new Hoity Toity Loafers, right? Oh, right, they’d just be ‘hypothetical’ cement shoes. Look, you might want me to help you, but I can’t go around handing out protection to every corner thug,” Detective Armor said, trying to distance himself from the dragon’s troubles. “Look, Shining - Can I call you Shining?” Spike asked inquisitively. Detective Armor replied with a resounding, “No.” “Detective, you got any family? I've got a wife and kid, and I don’t want them to have problems because I got greedy and stupid,” pleaded Spike as he stirred cream into his coffee. “None since my sister died, but that’s not the issue here. If you want me to help you and your family, you gotta give me something,” said Shining as he finally dropped the ‘gruff’ act in favor of getting a deal on the table. “I’m not asking for something for nothing, I've got some information you in particular ought to take interest in. You know the name ‘Celestino’?” asked Spike, his wise-ass attitude beginning to show through. “As in Don Celestino, the mafia boss? Of course, there isn't a cop in this city who hasn't heard of her. Me, least of all, but I guess you already knew that,” said Shining as he suddenly realized why the dragon chose him out of all the cops in Manehattan. “Well, it’s why I contacted you in particular, yes. I've worked with her for years, and now that she wants to rub me out, here I am. I’m prepared to name names, dates, accounts, everything. Enough to put her, and all of her goons, away for life. I can even tell you what exactly what happened to your sister. All I need is protection for me and my family," said Spike. “It ain't Hearth’s Warming Eve, you know. If I’m going to go to the commissioner with this, I need to know everything you've got," said the detective, readying himself for an excuse. “Sure, If you’ve got the time I can tell you my whole story from how I got in, all the way to the here and now," said Spike, finally cracking a smile. Turning back towards the bar, he shouted, “Miss… Bon Bon, you might as well bring the whole pot of joe over.” Resuming speaking to Spike, he prodded, “Well? If you’ve got as much to spill as you say, you'd better get started.”
Chapter 1: An Offer You Can't RefuseSpike started at the beginning. “I wasn't always in the mob, of course. I used to be a taxi driver, if you can believe that. Even though I didn't make too much money, and I worked from sunrise to sundown, I was glad that I even had a job. Those were the worst years of the depression and there were people with much worse luck than me. It was that very taxi that brought Celestino’s people to me in the first place. This one day, must’ve been in September or October of ‘30, I was on break …” The dragon descended from taxi for a cigarette break, no small task considering his diminutive stature. It didn't help that the cab, emblazoned across the side with ‘Manehattan Cab Co.’ was an Everfree Eight. Sure, sure; it was more powerful and had more gears than your run-of-the-mill Pansy Model P, but it was big and hard to maneuver, and most of all, tall. He leaned against the rear wheel and lit up a cigarette. The streetlamps flickered on in unison, which meant it was almost exactly seven PM. Even though it was already dark, he still had three more hours before he could return to the rat-infested tenement he called home. For a moment in the evening chill, everything seemed perfectly calm. Suddenly, he was startled the sound of a tremendous car crash. From around the corner, two ponies emerged, one with an obvious limp. The limping one shouted, as she tripped and fell over her own hooves, to the white unicorn beside her, “Rarity! They got me, dammit. Right in the wing!” Rarity pulled the pegasus up by her front legs and said “Don’t stop now, we haven’t time. Look, there’s a taxi, we’ll be fine…” That’s when the unicorn aimed a nickel-plated pistol square at Spike’s head. It became clear to him that these two needed to get out of there lickety-split, and he wasn't inclined to argue. He nearly dropped his keys while unlocking the cab, and he pulled himself up into his seat as Rarity helped her blue pegasus friend up into the passenger seat. Even though her rainbow mane implied friendliness, this injured mare was anything but. “Where to?” Spike asked nervously. “Anywhere! Just get there damn fast, faster than ‘Miss Priss’ over here,” shouted the pegasus. Rarity might’ve taken offense to that, but she was too busy firing out the back window at the car that had just turned the corner. An Everfree Eight, just like the taxi, it sported a violet paint job. When it got closer, it became obvious that all three passengers were firing right at his cab. Spike stomped the gas - it was clear that if anyone was going to survive, he’d need to lose his new “customers’” pursuers. Spike made a quick right, threading the taxi between a streetlamp and the corner of a building. His pursuers made the corner wide, on the road. He drove down the alley straight ahead, past the abandoned Tornado Theater, and then swerved left and quickly right. He led them through the office construction project that was abandoned after the market crash; but they were still on him, though the front seat gunman was out of commission thanks to Rarity’s precision with that semi-auto. They even managed to catch up enough to try to knock the taxi off the road, but before they could, Spike squeezed it between an Elevated Rail post and a building - and it was too late for them to avoid it. The other Everfree hit the post head on, going at least forty. The hood folded and shoved back into the passenger compartment, and the front axle split. They certainly didn't hang around to see who survived, but it couldn't have been good for the driver. After they were in the clear, Rarity exclaimed, “Fantastic! We've made it!” The rainbow pegasus said, “Thanks, kid - the name’s Dashie, by the way. My mamma called my Dash Rainbondo, but my friends call me Dashie - and you, you’re a friend. Now, take us to Celestino’s Bar; it’s on Sumner Street in Little Canterlot.” After a short but silent drive, Spike pulled the car up across from the bar. The two ponies exited the car, but Dashie came up to his window and said to him “Wait here for a little, kid; Rarity will get you a little something for your troubles from Ms. Celestino herself.” Rarity, already a few feet ahead, called back, “Oh yes dear, thank you for the help.” The two mares entered the bar, passing by a stallion and a mare that stood out in front, guarding the door. One of them, the mare, eyed him suspiciously. Spike felt mighty nervous; didn't ponies like this usually kill witnesses? He was a witness, and he didn't want to end up with a bullet to the head. He tried to reassure himself. Maybe these mares were different. The rainbow one - no, Dashie - Dashie called him a friend. He hyperventilated as he tried to stay calm. Were those stories he heard about this crime family? No, those weren't about the Celestinos, they were about the Lunettis, weren't they? He wasn't sure, but he racked his brain trying to remember. Rarity emerged from the bar. She trotted across the road, without any kind of giveaway on her face. Spike could feel his heart beating louder and louder. As she used her horn’s telekinesis to reach into a jacket pocket - oh, no, that’s where they keep their guns - Spike tried to start up the taxi. Before he could, Rarity arrived at the car window and presented him with an overstuffed envelope. “Consider this a thank you from Ms. Celestino, as well as myself and Dashie. It should be enough to cover the damages to your car, as well as a healthy compensation for your services,” said Rarity. “Yeah, of course, thanks. Give Ms. Celestino my regards,” replied Spike. “Ms. Celestino would like me to tell you that she is very grateful. If you ever need anything, you know you can come back and ask for help - the don doesn't forgot about friends who have helped her or her mares out. If you were interested, I’m sure we could find you a job here - and it would pay well. We always have positions for poni...dragons with skills like you. Looking down at his feet, Spike replied with a stutter, “Oh, yeah… I’ll uh, think about it, really, thanks…I’d better go, you know to… uh, fix the car and… other… things.” Noticing the apprehension, Rarity reassured him. “It’s fine, darling, I understand. Just… consider the offer. And, I hope I don’t need to tell you that this matter is only between ourselves, capiche? Take care.” Later that evening, after Spike pulled his battered and bullet-ridden cab up to his apartment, he climbed up five flights of stairs and locked the door behind him. When he opened the envelope, he nearly had a heart attack. There was more than enough to fix the cab - hell, there was enough to buy another car! He considered the offer, if only for a moment, but he decided he didn't want to join up with some criminals. He wouldn't last long if a night like this was a routine occurrence! He resolved to get the cab fixed and try to forget about it all as soon as possible.
Chapter 2: Running DragonA week or so later, Spike’s taxi was finally fixed. He had enjoyed his ‘time off’, but the money left over from the repairs was gone and he had to return to the grind if he expected to eat and pay his rent. Starting at the downtown taxi stand, he took his first customer to the Faustian cathedral uptown, and the next then to the hospital in the New Orange district, and so on, and so on. He'd almost forgot how monotonous daily life was after that brief… no,no - he cleared his adventure with those ponies out of his mind. Eventually, he had a very insistent custom whom he delivered to the F&F department store in Little Canterlot. He’d only been at it for about an hour, but since he was only just getting back in the swing of things, he sat back in the front seat and took a quick break. He couldn't help but notice he was only a few blocks from Celestino’s bar. He hadn't been on break for more than 20 seconds before a baseball bat smashed into the front driver’s window, startling him and sending shattered glass across his lap. “THE HELL?” exclaimed Spike. A brown earth pony dragged him out of the seat and onto the ground, and spat on his face. “Ms. Lunetti ain't too pleased with you, boy. We’re gonna have to teach you a lesson - nobody crosses us and gets away with it,” said the pony as his friend, a yellow unicorn, started to smash his taxi with a bat. Spike surmised, as he was being kicked in the face, that these two were in the car behind him when he saved those two mobsters. These two ponies wore the fancy suits he had come to associate with the mafia. Not only did they survive, they took it upon themselves to take revenge on him. “Lemon here’ll fix up your face a bit!” spat the brown pony. But when the bat descended, Spike stopped it with his claws and made a break for it. He ran towards a nearby alley - he couldn’t fight ponies, but he might be able to lose them if he was quick enough. That hope fell when he heard the distinctive sound of a revolver being loaded, and the chatter of running hoovers, from behind him. He ducked in through a passageway into a wide alley, passing by a green unicorn muttering about a meeting that somepony hadn’t arrived for. He turned a quick corner and descended a set of stairs, but he heard a bullet whiz by his ear. He turned a corner and dodged a gray pegasus trying in vain to fix a decrepit Pansy Model F. That pegasus actually managed to trip on of the pursuers, the one without the gun, unfortunately. As Spike came out of the alley onto the sidewalk, the unicorn fired two rounds. One grazed his hat - he’d better not slow down. He ducked into the next alley, on the same side. He climbed up a set of stairs onto a balcony, managing to upset a pink and yellow earth mare. She nearly fainted when she heard the next bullet splinter through the floorboards of the balcony. He jumped from the balcony to the next, and then he jumped down onto the top of a Pansy Model P and from there onto the ground. Another bullet ricocheted off of the front fender and was sent skyward. Spike ran through a clothesline hanging low, and pulled it forward as he did. When he let go, it sprang back into the the face of the unicorn mare pursuing him. She recoiled in pain and let off a fifth shot, this one completely missing its mark and shattering a second story window. She didn't give up the chase, however. Spike passed through another passageway, where a cream colored mare with a pink and blue mane was grumbling about a romantic meeting. As he passed by her, Spike managed to shout “She’s on the next street!” The mare expressed her thanks, but was shoved out of the way by the yellow unicorn. Spike quickly ducked into an alley across the street - he was very close to Celestino’s bar, now. He ran down the alley and chose to go straight rather than turn left. Bad choice. Spike found himself in a dead end, cornered by the black suit-clad unicorn. She raised her small snub up to his head, smirked, and pulled the trigger. *clink* That distinctive noise of an empty chamber momentarily baffled the mare, and Spike reacted quickly, ducking under her arm and turning right. He ended up on the same side of Sumner street as Celestino’s bar, and ran inside. Lunetti’s mare must not have been very smart, because she followed him right inside. A half hour later, Spike was drinking with Dashie, and his attacker was being loaded into the trunk of a car in the yard behind the bar. Spike figured that he might as well give these ponies a chance - they’d saved him, and being a taxi driver was out if he wanted to stay safe. He’d had a taste of the action, and he couldn't go back to that life anyway. If the suits all these ponies in the bar had on were anything to go by, he would certainly be paid a bit better in his new line of work.
