The Black Hoof

Spike 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.”