Ace in the Hole: Under the Gun

by Revenant Wings

Rating: teen
Tags: Caramel, Alternate Universe, Anthro, Roseluck, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Adventure, Sex
Length: 38628

Caramel and the charismatic magician Ace of Diamonds find themselves in trouble when Ace is approached by an old friend for a few dark deals with a mafia boss.

Caramel has been the assistant and close friend of the charismatic magician Ace of Diamonds for almost a year, and they now prepare themselves for the final six weeks of their tour in Baltimare and Canterlot. When Ace is confronted by an old friend of his about using his special talents in magic for purposes of greed and chaos, the two find themselves on the wrong end of a very powerful syndicate working in Equestria's underground. Ace must learn to trust his own materials once again and Caramel has to decide whether or not he wants to go back to the comfort and safety of his old life or risk himself for the stallion who swept him off his feet to this new, exciting life... a stallion he's coming to realize he barely even knows.

More characters to be added when they appear.

Light hypnosis, M/M relationship included now, will transition to M/F later.

Chapters will be frequently-used poker terms and will be defined in the author's notes for each chapter.

under the gun = the first player to the left of the dealer’s button who must act first

Published 2015-02-04 18:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-25 03:36:06 UTC

Small Blind - The Magician's Assistant

“Come on, Caramel. Time to get up.”

A soft groan escapes my mouth and I roll over, hoping for the comfort of the bed to take me back away into the dreamland of sleep.

The voice is now accompanied by a hand gently shaking my shoulder. “Caramel. We’re supposed to make the theater by nine-fifteen.”

It was always like this. Every time we have to go somewhere, I’m the one who ends up running late. Or not remembering the time I’m supposed to get up. Or Ace forgetting that he was supposed to command me to wake up when he does. This time, I’m sure it’s me just plain tired and not really wanting to do anything.

“Caramel, rise.”

The command is gentle but firm. Without thinking, I throw the sheets and blankets off me and swing my legs off the bed. I’m only in a pair of blue, elastic-waist shorts from last night and my brown mane is a disheveled mess. I push myself off the bed and am standing completely straight by the time I gain control over my own body again.

By the time I’m standing up, I’m staring the white stallion straight in his bright blue eyes glaring hard at me. He’s already dressed and ready to go, a white shirt covering the intricate black tattoos on his chest and his mane brushed so that it looks wild in front with a straight back. He’s got a pair of black slacks and black leather shoes on, and I can see his black vest and top hat hanging over a chair nearby.

“What time is it?” I manage to ask through a yawn.

“About eight-fifteen,” Ace replies simply. “I’ll need you to shower for tonight. Get in; breakfast is on the way.”

I don’t need telling twice. I’ve soon gotten around the queen-sized bed and into the hotel’s bathroom, hanging a towel over the shower door before undressing and stepping inside. I turn on the water and I’m soon drenched in a warm shower that soaks my mane and coat. An ear flicks out a bit of water that got inside, and for a moment I stand in the shower with closed eyes, thinking.

My name is Caramel. I was born and raised in Ponyville, where I did a bunch of odd jobs. I had a group of “friends” that I hung out with, but they always made fun of me. Like how slow I was or how stupid I was. I’m not athletic or that smart, working mostly with my hands instead of my brain, but I didn’t like it all the same.

About a year ago, Ace of Diamonds came. He’s a travelling magician who came to Ponyville on one of his tours for a change. And, surprisingly, he’s also an Earth pony like me – not a unicorn, like that one haughty, powder blue mare that came through twice, once nearly destroying the town. But Ace is different. He’s got a weird way of operating, but he’s definitely talented, doing actual magic and not just slight-of-hand.

Funnily enough, it’s because of the only slight-of-hand trick in his arsenal that I’m sitting here. Ace of Diamond’s specialty is cards, and he used a deck of them to slowly place me under a hypnotic trance. He commanded me to meet with him later, and when I did he made me an offer to travel with him for decent pay as his assistant. It paid better than my old job, but I had to be placed back under his trance and leave Ponyville.

Not such a bad offer, considering work sucked and my “friends” teased me more often than not.

So, for the past year I’ve been travelling around as his assistant and rather close partner. Behind closed doors, Ace is rather warm if he’s not tense like he is before a show. We sleep in the same bed, with Ace always keeping at least one hand and one hoof over me. I pay nothing for my travel expenses; they are deducted somewhat from my pay and Ace takes over for the rest.

But this morning, the morning before a show, he’s on edge. We’ve hardly been in Baltimare for thirty-six hours. Almost all of yesterday was spent looking at the theater where he’s supposed to perform with Ace in a good mood about the setup. Now, it’s time for the ritual. For the next three days, he’s going to be irritable, cranky, and nitpicky.

Not towards me. He always stresses that. He’ll shout expletives at everypony who gets in his way or does something wrong, then turn to me and say “I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant for you.”

Well, it’s something.

A sharp rapping at the bathroom door startles me out of my reverie. “Are you done in there!?” Ace yells.

“Nearly,” I call back. “I just have to wash my mane.”

“Breakfast is here,” Ace calls through the door. “Hurry up!”

I quickly place a little soap in my hand and rinse my mane. A few minutes later, the water’s off and I’m toweled. The bathroom door is open, but the bedroom door is closed and Ace is not in sight. I quickly close the window before slipping into a pair of blue jeans, brown casual moccasin hoof covers, and a white collared shirt, my usual attire for the night of a show.

When I open the bedroom door, Ace is sitting down at a table in the small dining area. The table is set for two. I sit down and examine the meal before me: scrambled eggs, three strips of hay bacon, home potatoes mixed with onion and pepper, fresh fruit, two pieces of buttered wheat toast, a cup of coffee and a cup of orange juice each. Ace is putting a few ice cubes into his coffee cup. It’s usual for Ace to have a big breakfast; it’s entirely likely that he won’t be stopping to eat until right before the show starts once we get to the theater, and he needs as much as he can.

I, however, get a lunch break. He treats me like an employee, and I get paid like one and get breaks like one. He, however, is his own boss and works from sunup till sundown. I offer him all the time to come with me on break, but he never does.

I sit down and Ace joins me, his coffee now to his liking. He passes me a set of silverware and we’re both eating shortly. It’s not the best meal, but it’s hard to mess up and certainly filling; I won’t need a break until almost four. We eat quietly for a while, the window next to us opening up to Baltimare’s harbor and letting in the salty smell of the sea with the early morning breeze.

“You know what to do?” Ace asks me in between bites.

I nod. It’s been done so often that I know it almost like the back of my hoof. “This theater’s a bit smaller than the old one, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they’ve made a few changes since I was here last,” Ace says indifferently. “It only fits three thousand ponies instead of five thousand. But I’ve been told we have a full house tonight, including the box seats.”

“Big night for you,” I tell him. “First time this whole tour we’ve had a full house.”

“Eh.” Ace waves it aside as though it was nothing. “We didn’t fill Canterlot or Manehattan, but the former can get seven thousand and the latter can fit ten thousand ponies.”

“Just… trying to make light of it,” I say feebly, trying to avoid eye contact.

For the first time this morning, Ace’s look softens into a warm smile. “It’s not your fault,” he says, a slight tender note in his voice. He runs a hand through his mane, making it actually look messy instead of the carefully-teased look it had, and nervously taps a hoof on the floor. “I’m just… I’m just stressed.”

I’m never stressed. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’m just cool, calm, and level-headed to begin with – I never struck out very hard whenever the ponies in Ponyville teased me – or if it was because of him essentially hypnotizing me into relaxation once a week.

But who entrances the hypnotist? I have no real magic ability – my cutie mark, a trio of horseshoes like the ones I wear on the bottom of my hooves, means luck, and I have no horn or special powers like Ace does – so when part of my job as his assistant is to help him out during these times, I’m kind of at a loss of what to do.

These moments of self-doubt are quick and don’t last long. The warmth leaves after a few moments and his face is hard once again. “Finish your breakfast,” he tells me. “We’ll have to leave almost immediately.”

I return to my own food, replaying the various stages of set-up that will be completed over the course of the day. As soon as we’ve finished, Ace picks up his jacket and beckons me to gather my own things. Ace takes the breakfast dishes as I pick up a simple watch Ace bought for me and put it on. Ace places the dishes outside the door and we leave the hotel.

It’s a short walk to the theater. Baltimare is one of Equestria’s older cities, built around a rather pretty downtown area filled with shops and the historic theater in which we will perform. Ace leads me down a fifteen-minute walk down tree-lined streets until we hit the theater, then goes down a side alley to a back door.

We enter into a small break room, where the appearance of Ace causes the employees inside to go into shock for a few minutes. Soon, they’re surrounding us and babbling almost incoherently to Ace.

“Where’s the manager?” Ace asks calmly.

They all go silent. It isn’t long until someone’s left the room to go get him.

An orange unicorn comes into the break room a few moments later, his hair a deep brown like mine and wearing a black, longsleeved button-up with blue jeans. He extends a hand to Ace, who shakes it.

“Morning, Janus,” Ace says.

“Good to see you again, Ace of Diamonds,” Janus replies, a small, determined smile on his face. ‘I see you finally got an assistant.”

Ace motions towards me. “Janus, this is Caramel. I recently found him in Ponyville working a dead-end job. I needed the assistant, he needed better work.”

I extend a hand towards him. “Pleasure,” I say.

Janus nods and shakes my hand. “Good to have the extra hand. My own workers will do as much as they can. Just tell me what you need and we’ll have it done.”

“First off: stage preparation. We’ll need to get the projector working for Ace’s card trick.”

“Alright.” Janus looks over to the crowd of employees still surrounding us. “Lens Flare! Camera Eye! I need you to get the projector started up and link it to their camera. Ace, your room is number 4, second door on the right. If you need anything, ring the bell.”

Two ponies nod and quickly run out of the room. Ace nods in turn but does not move. “Very well. I do have two requests. One: I will need a twelve-pack of standard-sized water bottles, preferably chilled in ice. Two: I will also need a small glass of water and a couple of aspirin; I’m afraid I drank too much last night.”

“It will be the end of you,” Janus says with a slight chuckle.

Ace turns to me. “Caramel, go with the two stage hands and help them set up the projector. Then, meet me in my room. One of the stage hands can help if you get lost.”

I nod and set off in the direction that Lens Flare and Camera Eye had gone. I walk out and make my way to the back of the stage, pulling out one of the boxes of equipment that had been brought the previous day. Out comes a stand, a large table topped with green felt, and a small wireless video recorder.

Lens Flare is soon with me holding a chip, which I insert into the camera. On the stage in front of a large red curtain, a screen begins to lower with a mechanical whirring. Lens Flare helps with the table and within half an hour we have the lights set to where they will be during the show and the screen is showing the green felt. I place a few cards down on the table and we adjust the settings so that the image is clear. Once the camera is correctly adjusted, Lens Flare turns the lights back on and helps me roll the table back stage, while Camera Eye manages the screen for a little while longer.

I follow Ace’s directions from earlier and still almost get myself lost. I only recover when I hear Ace yelling.

“I said I needed twelve!” Ace shouts. “Twelve bottles of water! Celestia damn you to Tartarus!”

“I’m sorry, Ace, sir,” the stage hand protests. “They only sell six packs of the brand you requested.”

“Then buy two!” Ace says, no longer shouting but still growling. “And get me that aspirin!”

“Yes, sir!” The stage hand backs out of the room nervously and bolts down the hall in the opposite direction I’m coming in.

I approach the open door cautiously. Ace is still grumbling. “I can’t believe it. It’s a simple direction that shouldn’t need that much explanation or have that much confusion…”

I turn the other way and leave the backstage area, finding the manager’s office where Janus is sitting under a decal of two masks with faces, one smiling and one frowning. He looks up as I enter. “Camera working?” he asks.

“Camera Eye and Lens Flare are fantastic,” I tell him. “We have it set exactly to Ace’s specifications.”

“Ah, and how is he? I heard him from here not long ago.”

“I was wondering if you had some aspirin,” I request. “It’s not so much for drink as he says, but to calm his nerves. He’s been stressed out all this morning.”

“And what of my assistant?”

“Likely going back to the store.”

Janus shrugs and pulls out a bottle. He gives me two white pills and fills a paper cup with water from a dispenser. “That should do it,” he says. “How long have you been working for him?”

I shrug. “About a year, now,” I tell him.

Janus nods. “I’ve worked with Ace for somewhere around seven years now,” he starts. “Don’t think badly of him. He’s smart and has a good heart, but he places himself in a lonely position. I dare say he wishes to reach out to someone, but never gets any response.”

“Supposedly, that’s half the reason he hired me,” I confess. “I was hired to be as much his companion as his assistant.”

Janus nods again. “It’s probably not my business to ask just how close you are.”

I shrug. “It’s not too much of a deal. There is some intimacy, mostly on his part. It doesn’t go very far. I think he just likes the fact there’s someone else with him.”

Janus pulls out a lighter and a cigarette. He takes his time with the cigarette, placing it in his mouth and lighting it before breathing deeply and exhaling a small cloud of smoke. “He doesn’t open very easily,” Janus muses. “I remember once him opening up to me. Ask him about it now, and he’ll act like it never happened.”

I nod, unsure of what to say after that. “I shall try to keep that in mind, sir.”

Janus waves me farewell with a single hand.

By the time I return to Ace’s room backstage, the other six pack of water bottles have been delivered along with a small canister of ice, where four bottles are sitting. Ace is leaning against a small dresser and mirror, rubbing his head as though he’s in pain. I knock on the door a few times to alert him of my presence and he looks up to see me.

“Camera’s all set up?” he asks.

I nod. “Camera Eye is set for the projector and screens, and Lens Flare has received the schedule of lighting and is currently setting up the lighting above the stage.”

Ace nods, then looks up to me with an appreciative smile as I place the water and aspirin in front of him. “I think I might have scared the other one off,” he chuckles.

I almost nod but restrain myself to avoid setting him off. “Probably. Is there a reason you wanted me here?”

Ace takes the two pills and drains the glass of water before standing up from the chair. He walks to the backstage area behind the curtain and I follow him.

“There’s only one more show location after this,” Ace says as we head behind the curtain. “It will be in Canterlot itself. Since we’re close, I was wondering if you want to go back to Ponyville. Say hello to a few old faces.”

“With all due respect,” I tell him, heading to one side of a large wooden table, “I did join up with you for a reason.”

“Yes,” Ace says thoughtfully, taking his position on the other side. “But I kind of took you out of there fast and without warning. I can’t help but wonder if, even with the trances I have placed on you, that you could have thoughts of home.”

I lift the table with Ace and we carry it to position right behind the curtain. The table serves a special purpose; Ace can summon items if he knows where they are. Placing them on the table creates the area where they can be taken from easiest.

“Not really,” I say as we gently set the table down. “I like this life. When I think about it, I always find it better than what I had before.”

“Hypnosis is not without its limits, Caramel,” Ace replies almost as soon as I finish. “There is always some doubt remaining no matter how intensive and continuous it is applied. It is in our basic nature as ponies.”

“That being said,” I commented, “I still prefer it with you.”

Ace smiled and came over to me. He gently caressed my cheek with a hand. I could feel myself relaxing into it, my muzzle gently nuzzling his hand. “I’m glad you do,” he says quietly. There’s no one else around to listen, but it feels intimate, close, something that is rare during these hectic hours before showtime.

Almost as quickly as the warmth came, it leaves. “Caramel, before you set up the stand, can you bring me a cup of coffee from the break room? One creamer, one packet of sugar, and, if it’s fresh, one ice cube.”

I give him a slight bow. “Certainly.”

Afterwards, Ace’s usual needs have me working down to the wire. I bring him his coffee before leaving to finish setting up the supplies for Ace’s act, clean the front stage, manage cleaning the aisles along with Janus, monitor the arrival of the programs, consult with Soundwave about the music and microphones (including pulling Ace out from his backstage room to check his mic), and finish my pre-show set up by making sure all the appropriate ponies were in the right spot.

I go backstage at four and find Ace putting on his jacket and looking into the mirror.

“All is ready and accounted for,” I tell him. “Doors will be opening at five.”

Ace hardly reacts; he’s too busy looking at himself in the mirror. “Good. Go ahead and break until five. There are a few small eating places nearby if you’re interested.”

“Ace… I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

The answer was short and curt. “No. I have no time.”

“Do you… want me to bring you something?”

“No. Thank you, but I’ll be fine until afterwards.”

I nod slowly. “Oh, okay. Just… if you wanted to…”

Ace turns around and smiles at me. He gently adjusts the collar of my shirt. “I’ll be fine. You take your break. You have money?”

I nod and turn around to leave as he goes back to looking at himself in the mirror. I head out the main entrance of the theater and find a sandwich shop less than a block away. I order a small salad with lettuce, tomato, cucumber, daisies, and daffodils, a rice and noodle soup, and an egg salad sandwich. I sit on the patio and eat as the sky above Baltimare turns a bright orange. In less than two hours, the show will be underway.

I finish my meal early and manage to save half my sandwich and a few bites of salad. I get a to-go box and leave the sandwich shop after buying a small bag of potato chips. I take the bag with the leftovers back to the theater, and head in the back entrance to the employee break room before heading to Ace’s room backstage.

Ace is sitting in the chair again, drinking a small glass of alcohol. I can smell the whiskey on his breath when I enter the room, and hear the ice clinking against the glass before I even notice the glass in his hand. He looks at me, then at the bag.

“What’s that?” He motions with the glass to the bag in my hand.

“Half a sandwich, some salad, and a bag of potato chips.” I set the bag on the table in front of him.

Ace looks confused at my gift; an eyebrow raises in question.

“It’s for you,” I tell him. “You look whiter than normal, and it probably won’t be a good idea to go out there with whiskey on your breath.”

Ace, for a moment, looks at the bag disdainfully. But apparently base instincts take over and soon the bag is open and he’s eating the sandwich almost ravenously. I watch him, wondering if he needs me for anything else.

When Ace is finished, it’s five o’clock. The doors will be opening soon. I watch Ace push aside the empty box and bag and pull two discs out from a drawer nearby, marked with the numbers ‘1’ and ‘2’.

“First CD goes in at five thirty,” he instructs. “Keep it playing until show time starts. At seven, switch disks, and set the second one up to play. It will be the length of the show, after which the sound technician may do as he pleases.”

I nod and take the disks from Ace. “Yes, Ace.” I turn to leave.

“Caramel, stop.”

I freeze where I am at the sound of Ace’s gentle, authoritative voice.

“Caramel, look at me.”

I turn around to see Ace looking at me almost mournfully, his eyes looking a softer blue than usual. He pulls out a small bottle of cologne and lifts my arm, spritzing it under my arms and across my chest. He sets the cologne aside and places his hands on my shoulders and stares me straight in the eye.

“You ready?” he asks me.

An absurd question, one he should know by now. I nod.

But almost as soon as I’m done nodding, Ace unexpectedly pulls me in. His arms wrap around my back and hold me tightly to him, almost possessively. I feel the gentle touch of his muzzle gently nuzzling my neck and shoulder as I carefully reciprocate as though afraid of startling him.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

We remain like this for a minute before he releases me. The mournful look has changed to one of determination and an almost cocky grin. “Let’s do this,” he tells me.

I smile along with him. “Ready when you are.”

As I leave Ace’s room, Janus meets me backstage. With his help, a wireless headset is attached to communicate with Lens Flare on lights and a few stagehands hiding to operate the curtain and move items used for Ace’s act on and off stage. I arm myself with a program, annotating it with the times it will take for each section. I go up to a back room of one-way glass where Camera Eye and Soundwave are at two different computers.

“Are we ready to go?” I ask.

“All systems are go,” Soundwave replies. “I just need whatever music Ace wants. I’ve got some here if necessary.” The CDs get passed over and Soundwave places them into her computer’s drives, loading up the first CD in one window and preparing the second CD in another.

“Projector is warming up,” Camera Eye said. “Should be ready in five minutes. Camera 1 showing the main stage is ready and Camera 2 on his table is waiting in the wings. Screen will be coming down closer to the start of the show.”

“Alright. Let’s have it come down at sixty seconds to start.” I check my watch. “Let’s start. Soundwave, play CD 1 from track 1.”

An upbeat house track starts playing in the main hall as I focus my attention to the headset. “Lens Flare, are you ready to go?”

“Lights in the auditorium are at medium power,” Lens Flare replies through the earpiece. “Overhead stage lighting and beams are in position. Shouldn’t have any mid-show technical problems.”

“Alright. All systems are green. Ace, are you ready?” “Yes.” His voice is a low, soft whisper in my ear. “On your cue, Caramel.”

I check my watch. Preparations are done, but there’s still an hour and a half until the start. Time to play the waiting game.

Yes, I’m not an assistant in the traditional sense. I take up more of a backstage technical role in comparison to the usual on-stage guinea pig. Ace is charismatic enough he doesn’t need them. Once he gets on stage, he’ll soon have the audience mystified and mesmerized. An awestruck silence will fall across the room, and he will have their rapt attention from the moment he steps into the lights to the moment he goes backstage.

I step outside the booth into the main lobby for a bottle of water. Already, the fact that he’s an Earth pony has the guests simultaneously questioning and intrigued as to how the evening will go. Some are already pointing at the posters in the main hall, which, to me, have given him something of a large forehead when he’s not wearing the pitch black fedora he enjoys on his hair, deep red the color of the diamond suit that makes up his name. It won’t be long before he has them enraptured and commands their entire attention.

I know what you’re thinking. I may be under a light trance due to Ace almost constantly, but that’s not what I mean. I simply mean Ace’s talent will be quite the spectacle and show.

That being said, he does perform hypnotism as a trick. But none to the extent he did to me.

At half past six, I make my way back to the technician’s booth. The CD has a few tracks left on it and Soundwave is doing a last minute sound-check, while Camera Eye is placing the main camera into position and drawing down the screen in the back.

“Soundwave,” I order, “Lower the music just a little bit.”

“On it.” The music in the hall lowers just a little bit as ponies start pouring in and finding their seats. “Not by too much since we’re trying to keep it heard.”

“It’s a cue for Ace more than anything,” I tell her. “Not long now.” I direct my attention to the headset. “Are you ready down at the curtain?”

“All ready. Ace is getting himself ready. He’ll give us the cue to go on once you give yours.”

“Very well.”

The minutes pass slowly as we wait for go time. But, at six fifty-nine exactly, I set my headpiece and and whisper quietly. “Lens Flare… you’re on.”

“Got it. Dimming and focusing.”

The lights in the main theater go dim and Camera Eye flips on a few lights in our booth on. Soundwave switches the CDs and a low, pulsing electronic track starts playing, rising in volume and intensity. Camera Eye presses a button that causes a little red recording light to shine on the camera just outside our booth, and places another hand over the button for the camera to project on the screen.

I speak quickly and quietly into the headset as a pre-recorded intro starts playing over the speakers. “Thirty seconds, Ace. Backstage crew, get ready. Lens Flare, focus the main lights towards the stage at the cue on the speakers.”

“Showtime…” Ace purrs in the microphone.

The pre-recorded introduction finishes and the audience bursts into applause as the curtains draw back to reveal the white stallion. The lights focus on him and the camera begins to show on the screen, a larger version so that his image is showing to the entire crowd of three thousand ponies in the theater. A knowing smile without teeth covers his face, and his ice-blue eyes hold a manic gaze over the audience.

They’re already mesmerized simply by his looks, by the well-defined chest and his lithe figure as he walks gracefully and deliberately back and forth across the stage. Aside from the slight bump towards the front of his head hidden by the top hat he’s wearing, he’s rather handsome and knows it. When he speaks to begin his opening monologue, his voice is an almost enthralling whisper and the entire audience goes silent. Within minutes of appearing on stage, he already has the audience at the edge of their seats as to what he could do.

Times like these I cherish. Not because of his looks, but the knowledge that I’m one of the few that gets to see it outside of the shirt. It’s my job to make him look and sound his best out there, to make sure that the only thing he worries about is that he remembers his act and the motions he has to make. But I always smile inwardly at the knowledge that there are some things these ponies don’t see behind closed doors.

And so begins nearly two hours of Ace on stage doing what he does best. Every once in a while, the assistants tell me what they hear and see and I give instructions to Soundwave, Camera Eye, and Lens Flare to adjust what’s necessary. I’ve been doing shows for the past eight months almost continuously – three weeks per city before moving on to the next one – and we’re nearing the end of a season. I’ve learned to train my own ear and eye to pick up on the slightest motions and sounds that indicate something’s wrong.

But the first show of Baltimare goes without a problem. It isn’t long before Ace is bidding the enraptured audience good night. He takes a theatrical bow as the audience erupts into applause. He stays on there a few more moments with a grin on his face. The theater suddenly becomes very dark, but his ice-blue eyes and grin remain on-stage like a Cheshire cat. By the time the lights come back up moments later, the curtains are closed and Ace is gone. One by one, the theater-goers break free from their trances and head for the entrance, none of them entirely believing what they saw as though it was a dream though thoroughly enjoying themselves.

I stay back with Camera Eye and Soundwave as things finish up; Soundwave plays some of her own music as the audience leaves, and I go over the recordings with Camera Eye. Lens Flare has brought the lights back in the theater to full power and notes he’s heading to Janus before checking out for the night.

When I come out of the booth, Ace is surrounded by a group of fans. He’s giving autographs and taking pictures with a few of the lucky ones who stayed around long enough for him to come back from behind the stage. His responses are short and curt, but no one minds. He’s there and speaking to them, and that is enough.

But as soon as he sees me coming out of the booth, he states that it’s time for him to go and that he really can’t take any more time. He comes to me and I follow him back into the closed auditorium and to his room backstage, where he closes the door and plants his lips on mine and throws his arms around me.

I don’t argue. It’s as much routine as it is relief or passion. Once the first show goes well, he’s never as stressed; his kiss is as much one of triumph at clearing the largest hurdle as it is the biggest show of thanks he can give me. He never says a word after shows until we’ve gotten back to the hotel; the gentle caresses of his hands against my shoulders, back, and hips, and the warm, sweet breath from his mouth say more than any word can that first night.

Dinner at nearly ten o’clock is a relatively simple affair. We order room service – simple salads and sandwiches like the one I had for dinner, and a pack of cookies for dessert. We’ll be staying in this hotel suite for three weeks, but the first weekend neither Ace nor I have time to buy groceries.

Once the dinner dishes are cleaned out, Ace is in the shower. We typically spend an hour doing whatever we want. I’ve taken up reading, and will spend some of the money Ace gives me on books. I pick rather large ones – short story compilations, thick informational books, long novels. Ace will scribble in a journal for a while before turning on our room’s television and watching news or whatever late night program is on.

By midnight, both Ace and I are in the bedroom changing for the night, both of us wearing nothing more than shorts. When we get into bed, we become a tangle of hooves and arms, wrapping ourselves close to the other.

“Caramel?” Unlike usual, Ace’s mention of my name is not a command. It’s a gentle whisper, a question to see if I haven’t already started to sleep yet.

“What?” I ask him.

“Thank you again.” My head’s too buried into his chest to see his face, watching my hand stroking the soft coat covering the finely-toned body, but I can hear the soft, approving smile in his tone. “I know I get a little stressed out. But you… you’re a relief. The sandwich helped more than you think.”

I shrug. “You never eat,” I tell him. “You should come out to lunch with me sometime.”

Ace takes a hand and strokes my mane. “Perhaps tomorrow,” he says. “For now, Caramel, relax… relax and listen…”

And I fall into a peaceful state as I become lost in Ace’s soothing hypnotic cadence. Tonight he will reinstate the trance he placed on me one year ago, gently numbing my body until I feel nothing but his body pressed next to mine, hearing nothing but his whispers in my ears. Any doubts I may have had about leaving my former life are pushed to the back of my mind.

I like it here, strange and demanding as it sometimes is.

Author's Note

small blind = forced bet played by the player directly left of the dealer, usually half the minimum bet of the table

Large Blind - Dinner with an Old Friend

It is four forty-five, fifteen minutes before the last show of the weekend. We always do our last show of a weekend early; it fits with most ponies’ schedules, and gives us a much needed break. I am up in the technician’s booth once again, watching Soundwave and Camera Eye do their final preparations before the show starts.

I can see Ace of Diamonds down on the floor. He’s situated himself in a corner off to the side where the lights don’t touch him; I have the slight feeling he asked Lens Flare to do that ahead of time. He’s standing up and leaning against the wall, looking around almost indifferently at the guests coming in and nopony seems to pay him any attention. Half of me wonders how he can do that, stand in plain sight to me in the booth and never be seen by a soul in the main auditorium.

I see the faint outline of his muzzle as his attention shifts to one of the boxes, eyes brightening for just a moment. Baltimare’s theater has six of these boxes, situated close to the front of the theater in full view of the stage. They hold about ten seats each and are often manned by a special attendant that can get the patrons anything they need. I try to follow his gaze, but I can’t see where he’s looking; his eyes are too hidden in his face in the dark corner.

“Who are you looking at?” I ask him through my headset. “Someone important?”

“A couple of old friends of mine,” Ace responds quietly. “I had no idea they were in town.”

“It’s nearly summer, isn’t it? I expect this place is popular during the summer, being so close to the sea.”

“Must be at his summer villa,” Ace muses. “Wonder if he’ll stick around afterwards. Oh, and Janus is with him, apparently.”

I look over the boxes, but I can hardly see anyone that looks familiar.

Ace seems to read my mind. “Caramel, look to the second box on your left hoof side.”

Obediently, I look over to where Ace has directed me and I see Janus’ orange coat and brown mane coming out of a white collared shirt. He’s directing a group of four ponies to a seat in the box. One looks like a tan earth pony with a light-brown mane and a scraggly mustache, a scar just over his top lip and one across the bridge of his nose, dressed in a simple black vest. Another is a zebra, light grey with darker grey stripes and boasting a large gold hoop in each ear with striking gold eyes that I can see from the darkness of the box, and wearing a thin beige shirt seemingly tied at his waist by a cord of some sort.

Finally, in comes a large, pale grey unicorn stallion with muted red eyes and wearing a fine burgundy shirt. His arm is wrapped around a young earth pony mare with a rose-colored mane and more natural-looking green eyes than the stallion does comes in. Janus sits between the tan pony and the pale grey one, and the mare sits between the pale grey unicorn and the zebra.

“Seems he’s got himself a new girl,” Ace says almost without interest.

“Who are they?” I ask him again.

“The pale grey unicorn is a restaurant and casino owner by the name of Blackjack,” Ace says. “The tan pony must be his lawyer, Fine Print. I have no idea who the zebra or the mare are.”

“She looks pretty,” I comment.

Ace gives off a rather scornful “harrumph”. “He’ll probably dispose of her for someone else within the month if he’s anything like I think he is.”

I look at my watch. Time has passed. “One minute,” I call out, not only for Ace’s benefit but for Soundwave, Camera Eye, and Lens Flare as well. “Time for the show to start. Lens Flare, focus lights on the stage. Soundwave, get the CD started up. Camera Eye, be ready to start filming and recording.”

“Got it,” Camera Eye responds.

Ace gives a short nod then disappears behind a nearby door marked “Staff Only”, the light from the backstage halls illuminating him only for a moment before he disappears.

The pre-recorded introduction starts playing.

“Thirty seconds, Ace,” I remind him.

“Caramel, tell Soundwave to pause when this track is done,” Ace says softly and firmly into my ear. “I need to make a proper introduction. And Caramel, keep your eyes off that mare for the rest of the performance; I can’t have you distracted.”

I wait until I’m sure Ace is finished speaking before relaying the information to Soundwave. She merely nods and waits until the track has finished and the applause has died down before pausing the CD on the computer.

“Welcome, welcome, fillies and gentlecolts,” Ace says in his commanding, mesmerizing stage voice. “My full name is Ace of Diamonds, but I am usually known both on and off the stage as Ace. What I am going to do tonight will shatter your expectations, bust down your knowledge of the world, and will fill you with wonder.”

He takes a long look over the audience. “But first, it has come to my attention that a special guest is here tonight, one who is himself partly responsible for the construction and upkeep of this fine theater. Fillies and gentlecolts, would you please give a warm applause of thanks to Blackjack!” With an over-dramatic gesture, he points both of his hands towards the booth.

For a moment, the lights stay still. “Go with it, Lens Flare,” I tell the stunned pony. “We’ll get back on the normal program in a minute.”

Lens Flare snaps to attention and a single light goes over to the box seat. Blackjack stands up and I can hear a light applause come over the auditorium as thought the audience is perplexed as much as we are. Blackjack waves slightly before settling himself down and the lights refocus on Ace.

Ace looks directly up at me and mouths two words. Nothing is even said, but already I can understand the command.

“Soundwave,” I say, “continue with the next track. Show goes on as normal.”

Two hours once again pass by without incident. Ace goes through his show almost flawlessly and without any other changes besides the small introduction of Blackjack, and once again holds the attention of the audience captive; their trances, almost broken by the strange appearance of the pale grey unicorn, are reinstated quickly as the magician begins his opening act.

While I obey the command not to look at the rose-maned mare, I do not, however, extend that to the others up in the box. A cursory glance shows that the tan pony – Fine Print – is slightly small and slightly twitchy but almost always has a smirk plastered on his face. The slightly muscular zebra smiles and nods slightly in Ace’s direction every so often as though approving of what he says.

Blackjack himself looks cool and composed, smoking a cigarette and drinking a bottle of water while discussing things with Janus, and looks as though he’d be a head taller than Ace or I standing upright. He seems to command as much attention as Ace does; granted, if he owns a casino and a few restaurants he probably has a fair amount of bits somewhere and might be within some of Baltimare’s elite circles.

When the show is over and I’m done in the booth, I’m treated to a more up-close view of the four in the theater’s lobby. The tan pony is almost as tall as Ace or I are yet walks with a slouch, the zebra walks with a surprisingly fluid and mesmerizing gait that reminds me of Ace’s on-stage, and Blackjack is rather large with a fair amount of muscle. The rose-maned mare is wearing a faded red dress similar in color to Blackjack’s eyes, and seems quite a bit more delicate than the rest of them.

Ace appears from the doors leading into the auditorium and Blackjack walks over to him, a hand extended almost lazily towards him.

“It has been a while, Ace of Diamonds,” he says with a deep, rough voice that probably is stained from years of cigarette smoking; the current one is nearly spent. “I am glad I managed to catch you perform.”

Ace extends a hand of his own and shakes with Blackjack. “I’m surprised you’re already down,” Ace says. “Usually, you’re not in from Las Pegasus until a month from now.”

“Nasty heat wave rolled through,” Blackjack said. “There are some years I swear Celestia is trying to push forward the date for summer to start. So I decided I’d skip town for a while and come to Baltimare early.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you could make it out tonight,” Ace said. “Are you here for good or are you moving up to Manehattan soon?”

“Well, I should check there at some point, but I’m trying to lay low for a while. I hear there’s still a snowstorm going on there, so maybe in a week I’ll head up there.”

“Perhaps we could stay in Baltimare a little longer?” the rose-maned mare says. “I’ve never been here before, and I rather like the weather around here at this time.”

Blackjack laughs and gently presses the mare to him. “Of course, darling. Anything for you.”

I approach them as Blackjack is still talking and wait; the CDs and the recordings are in my hand and, while I am interested in seeing who exactly these old friends of Ace’s are, I’m more interested in what else Ace needs me to do to close up for the weekend.

“Ah, I see you’ve finally found yourself an assistant!” Blackjack says, taking notice of me standing politely behind Ace.

“So have you,” Ace says, motioning to the rose-maned mare with his head. He turns around and beckons me. “Caramel, come forward and introduce yourself.”

I nod and step forward. “Good evening,” I say politely. “My name is Caramel. I’ve been Ace’s assistant for about a year. He picked me up at the end of his last tour. I trained under him for a while and now help with the behind-the-scenes work at his shows.”

“Well-spoken, well-mannered, and proficient at his job,” Blackjack says with a laugh. “I must say, young colt, that was quite a fine performance and went off without a hitch. The last time I saw one of Ace’s shows, it felt kind of disjointed since he was the one running everything.”

I bow politely to Blackjack. “Thank you,” I say. “It’s not easy, but it is quite satisfying.”

Blackjack nods and turns back to Ace. “Now, I don’t know about your current predilections, my dear Ace, but are you two close?”

“Rather,” Ace says simply. “And what about you and that mare?”

“Rather,” Blackjack replies with an almost sardonic grin.

Ace laughs. “Well, we’ll see who rusts first.”

Blackjack laughs. “So we shall.” He gives another chuckle before calming himself down. “Now, I’ve only come in yesterday, so I’m afraid I’m unsuited for company at the moment, but how about coming down to my villa tomorrow for dinner, Ace? You and Caramel, if you so desire.”

“But of course,” Ace replies pleasantly. “Will we be enjoying the fine company of your entourage?”

“It depends,” Blackjack says with a shrug. “Fine Print has business to do here regarding my restaurants and their end-of-term financial reports. But, Roseluck and Untakhan” – Blackjack motions to the mare and the zebra in turn – “are staying with me, so they at least are here and will be present.”

“Very well,” Ace says. “What time?”

“Where are you staying?”

“The Salt and Sea Hotel and Suites, about a mile from the harbor shops.”

“Right. I’ll send Untakhan around in a carriage around four. We’ll be able to have drinks and catch up before dinner actually starts.”

Ace nods. “And that will give me some time to settle in myself at the suites. I’ve had no time since arriving last Thursday. Until tomorrow.” Ace extends his hand towards Blackjack.

Blackjack smiles approvingly and shakes Ace’s hand. “Until tomorrow,” he says. Then he and his group walk out the door.

Ace motions towards me. “Come,” he says. “We need to pack up and bring some of the cases back to the hotel.”

I nod and follow Ace back into the auditorium. I do not wish to talk to him quite yet and wait until I’m sure he’s both calmed down from the show and not going to say a word about Blackjack and his group. I end up waiting until we had packed the cases and Janus had given us a wheeled trolley to stack the bags on before speaking.

“Where do you know Blackjack from?” I ask Ace.

“My first shows were working under him,” Ace responds. It’s one of the few moments of fondness I’ve seen from him; he recounts it as though it’s a pleasant memory. “I was just learning the trade when I was in Manehattan. Blackjack saw some of my potential and hired me. I didn’t recognize the zebra because it’s been seven years, but he was my tutor for a year or so, specifically the card tricks and the hypnotism.”

“What does he do? I mean, he’s a zebra, it’s not like he has the special powers that even someone like an earth pony has.”

“Don’t talk that way,” Ace reprimands me gently. “Untakhan is brilliant. He was a dealer before helping Blackjack with his more personal affairs. He occasionally still does more practical magic tricks at his casino.”

We had said goodbye to Janus and were walking along the streets of Baltimare before I spoke again. “Forgive me, Ace, but, um… I know they’re your friends, but I didn’t particularly trust any of them. That Fine Print seemed twitchy and nervous, Untakhan was looking at me strangely, and Blackjack was… kind of demeaning for someone who supposedly is an old friend.”

“Yeah, they’re all a bit rough around the edges,” Ace admits. “But I’m rather fond of them. Perhaps give them a night over at Blackjack’s villa and you’ll get to understand them better.”

“Yes, but… I just can’t shake the feeling that I don’t trust them. They may be your friends, but it doesn’t seem like the best group of friends you could have picked.”

Ace lets go of the trolley and let it roll a little down the street. He turns to me and places both his hands firmly on my shoulders. He’s staring into my eyes, his face so close to me I almost can’t see anything but his blue eyes piercing into mine.

“Do you trust me?” He’s not asking, which is different. It’s almost like he’s pleading. His eyes turn down at the edges and he’s looking over my face frantically as though he’s looking for something. He’s also speaking very fast as though it’s erupting from his mouth, and his voice is rising as though in panic. “Caramel, I need an answer: do you trust me? Do you trust me!?”

“Yes!” I find myself shouting. “Yes, I do trust you! After all you’ve done for me and all that you do to me, what in the world makes you think I don’t trust you?”

Ace is frozen but his grip on me is still firm. We stay there like that, me looking worriedly at him due to his sudden change in demeanor and he looking at me almost desperately. Eventually his arms slacken and fall to his sides like a rag doll and we’re going back down the street, picking up the trolley and continuing.

“Caramel…” Ace begins as we approach the hotel. “I need to know if you want to go back to Ponyville.”

“Why?” I ask him. “I’m really, honestly, enjoying going out to all these new places. I like seeing all these places and things I never could have seen before, I like working with all the ponies we meet, I love watching your shows as much as I do working on them. Ace, this job is almost a dream.”

Ace is only momentarily satisfied by that answer, but it’s enough. He’s quiet until we get back up to the room and doesn’t speak to me until after he’s ordered room service and opens the window, letting in a cool sea breeze. At which point he takes off his vest and shirt, pours himself a whiskey with ice, and sits down on one of the chairs as I go into the bedroom.

I’m still in the bedroom, thinking about taking a shower, when I hear him calling me. “Caramel, come here and sit down with me for a few minutes.”

While I do what he says without resisting, I still dread what could happen. Obviously something’s set him on edge, but I don’t know how closely it is related to my comment on the appearance and the feeling I gained from Blackjack and his companions. I sit down on the couch and avoid looking at him.

“Caramel, I want you to look at me.”

I look at him. His chest, looking even more toned with his white coat and black, spiraling tattoos is glistening with little beads of sweat, slowly disappearing as he cools off. His red mane is messy and he runs a single hand through it, trying to straighten it out and wiping sweat off it, which he wipes on his pants. He is leaning back, but soon sits up then leans forwards towards me.

“Caramel, I probably should remind you of what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

I look at him and shrug. I’m still unclear as to why we were having this conversation.

“Caramel… when we met that one day in Ponyville and I offered you a job… I told you that I would have to place you under a hypnotic trance. That I needed absolute trust in my materials, and that was the only way I could be sure.”

I nod. It was something that had been stuck in my head since day one. And, ever since seeing his shows in progress, I’ve understood why that was necessary. I did things that Ace could not do on his own, things that made the shows run smoothly.

“But hypnosis is not infallible,” Ace continues, voice shaking. “I have to re-perform my induction once a week because of that. Because I’m afraid that if I don’t, then you won’t perform as effectively and you would want to leave. I can make you come back, but I can’t make you stay.”

He’s suddenly silent. He dips his head down so that I can’t see his face, but not before I see his eyes glimmering as though with tears.

“Do you remember what happened at our meeting?”

Ace looks up at me.

“Do you remember what happened when I tried to leave the room?” I ask him. “You told me to stop, to turn back around, and I did. You told me, when I realized what was happening to me, that it only worked if I was willing.”

Ace stares at me for a while longer before lunging at me, the glass of whiskey dropping on the floor and spilling all over the place. His arms are wrapped around me and he’s burying his chest into mine, something which is strange because I’m used to it being the other way around.

“There is one thing,” I say.

Ace releases me and sits back in his chair again. “What? Anything. You say it, I can help do it for you.”

I’m reflecting about it for a minute before I respond. “I know… almost nothing about you. You take me all these places and show me all these things, but I know nothing about you besides the fact that you are a magician, you go on tour, you are a hypnotist, and that you are momentarily a jerk when you’re stressing out over the shows.”

Ace sat himself up in his chair a bit. “Alright. I suppose we could start simple. I could… elaborate on something, or I could say something new.”

I shrug. “I suppose elaborate on you being a magician.”

Ace nods. “Alright. I did my basic schooling, then I went into a magic academy the year afterwards due to being able to do magic despite being an earth pony. I was there for three years and achieved above average marks, graduating within the top twenty percent of the class. I did street magic for a bit before Blackjack and Untakhan saw me and Blackjack hired me. I spent a year tutoring under Untakhan before heading out on my own. This is my seventh year touring since then.”

I nod. The soft tenor of his voice is slow, methodical, mesmerizing, and I find myself listening to him with rapt attention. “So that makes you two years older than myself. Have you ever had an assistant before?”

“I was told the value of one,” Ace replies, emphasizing more as he slowly realizes that I’m paying attention to him, a slight grin coming across his face like that’s what he’d been wanting. “But, I never got one. The theaters always had enough hands on deck that I never needed one.”

I nod again. “What did Blackjack mean with what he said about not being certain of your ‘current predilections’?”

Ace is now genuinely smiling. He enjoys the attention he’s getting, but I also imagine this is something that’s rarely passed his lips. “I’m flexible. I’ve lain with mares and stallions alike, whoever suits my fancy at the time.”

“So how come I’ve stayed on so long?”

Ace’s smile fades as he sighs. “Because I am lonely. Seven years without a single familiar face going into a new tour, a new show… I might seem a bit of a jerk, but often I need to be reminded I’m not doing it alone anymore. I hired you more for the company, though it certainly does take a load of my mind if I have an extra set of eyes.”

There is a sharp rapping at the door. Ace leaves for a moment and comes back a minute or two later.

“Room service,” he said. “Our order is going to be a few minutes late.”

“Do we have any drinks?”

“Well, I have whiskey. But… were you thinking something to share?”

“Perhaps a bottle of wine. We could run down to the liquor store on the premises and grab something like a merlot or a pinot noir and sip it while we continue this conversation over dinner.”

Ace’s smile widens a little bit. “I think I would like that. A pinot noir would go well with what I ordered with us. Come, there should be a decent vineyard to supply us a wine with our meal around here.”

Ace and I went down to the liquor store and found bottles three-year-old pinot noir. We continued talking about wine – and found we had similar tastes – as we bought two bottles and wine glasses, came back up to the hotel room and found our room service waiting on a rolling trolley: green salad with carrots and red cabbage in a balsamic vinaigrette sauce; penne pasta in a creamy tomato sauce seasoned with garlic and basil and mint leaves; a mixture of broccoli, mushrooms, and eggplants; a vegetable soup in a savory broth; two whole loaves of a garlic toasted sourdough bread; and, for dessert, two slices of a rich chocolate cake.

We ate everything and drank through both bottles of wine through the rest of the evening before sitting down to watch an old black-and-white thriller movie about a jury trying to decide if a pony was guilty but one thought he was innocent. I recall it as being one of my favorite movies, but I don’t remember the end.
Although we had been eating through most of our drinking, two whole bottles had still produced five glasses each. By the time we were at the couch, Ace was very touchy-feely and insisted on sitting and leaning on my shoulder the entire time and I was desensitized enough not to care. At one point or another, Ace said “Caramel, kiss me” and soon my shirt was off and we were making out on the couch before I realized what happened.

By the time I realized what was happening, I was too far gone to care.

The next morning, I found myself regretting the actions of the previous night. Both Ace and I were in the bed, holding each other tightly to one another and refused to let go. My head hurt and I didn’t want to move and Ace refused to do the same thing.

Ace groans. “What happened…?”

“I… I think we made out.”

“Oh… that’s nice. Ow… my head… how much did we drink?”

“Two bottles of wine. And you had your whiskey.”

Ace coughs. “Oof… what time is it?”

I look over at the alarm clock on the nightstand on the other side of Ace. “Uh… I think it says it’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Oh, good. We can go to the store before getting ready to go to Blackjack’s.”

I slowly shuffle around in the bed. “…Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we get a bottle of aspirin at the store?”

Ace arches his back and groans again before falling onto the bed. “Yeah. We’re gonna need it.”

Breakfast is simple; Ace orders a plate of danishes and a pot of coffee and asked if they had a few aspirin. They manage to bring all of it up, and we each ate three danishes, half a pot of coffee, and one aspirin. Afterwards, Ace and I take turns in the bathroom cleaning ourselves up but not showering until later.

The Monday after the first weekend in a place is a very lazy day. Pretty much all it consists of every time is going to the store; Ace likes napping afterwards and I sometimes sleep but otherwise do almost nothing. We go to the store and stock ourselves up for the week before Ace goes to the bedroom and lies down on the bed; he’s snoring within minutes.

For a strange reason, he’s only asleep for about an hour today. It’s nearly one o’clock when he comes out of the bedroom.

“What are you going to wear?” he asks me.

I am not quite sure what he means. “Wear to what?”

“We’re going to Blackjack’s for dinner this evening,” Ace reminds me. “Preferably you wear something nice.”

“I have a white shirt, a vest, a pair of black slacks, and a nice pair of shoes. Will that work?”

“Hopefully. It’s… in a rather nice part of town.”

I stare at him for a while. “I have a feeling that’s an understatement.”

Ace nods. “A bit of one, yes.”

“But what will he be wearing?”

“Something casual. Reminder for next time: when invited to dinner, remember to ask about the sort of attire necessary.”

“Do you want to get in the shower first or me?”

“You. But if you don’t mind, I’ll be using mouthwash at the same time.”

“Fair enough. Just wait until I’m in.”

We take our turns in the shower and dress in simple clothes as Ace makes some sandwiches and some instant tea. Dinner at Blackjack’s is expected to be rather large, but Ace doesn’t want to go the whole day without eating. We eat our lunch and make sure our wardrobes are in order before carefully dressing. By three forty-five, Ace and I are fully dressed and we make our way from our suite down to the main lobby.

Untakhan comes a few minutes before four. He approaches Ace with open arms and hugs him as soon as he gets close enough. Ace is also rather pleased to see Untakhan and returns the gesture, each giving each other a few pats on the back.

“It’s been a long time since we last met,” Untakhan says to Ace as he releases him. His voice is slightly deeper than Ace’s and almost nearly as magnetic and hypnotizing with the rhyming common of zebras. “You should have many stories, I bet.”

“All in good time, my friend,” Ace says. “We shall have an entire evening, as I’m sure Blackjack would like to hear the whole thing as well and I don’t like to repeat myself. Oh, and let me introduce you to my assistant and partner, Caramel.”

“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, dear Caramel,” the zebra says, looking me in the eye as he shakes my hand. “You handled the backstage management well.”

I find myself attracted to the zebra almost immediately. I can’t look away from the striking gold eyes and the shaking is almost rhythmic in its execution. I try to come up with something to say but everything gets stuck in my mouth. It’s only when the zebra’s shaking seems to rise a little higher than normal that Ace steps in.

“Caramel, look at me.”

I follow Ace’s instruction almost immediately. It’s only when I turn around to look at him standing slightly behind me that I feel the zebra’s hand, still in motion, rocket down and pull me with it. Ace is looking disapprovingly at the zebra.

“Must you try and use rapid induction on him?” Ace says.

“Had I known he was yours, Ace, I’d only do it in good fun,” Untakhan says with a playful smile on his face. “Then he’d still be yours when all’s said and done. Now, it’s time to go; why don’t we move along? I do not wish Blackjack’s wait to prolong.”

We follow the zebra to the car, a long, black thing with a chauffeur up front. Untakhan opens the door and we all step into a large back seat; the two seats are facing each other with three belts each. Untakhan takes the side closest to a window separating us from the chauffeur and me and Ace step into the opposite side. The door closes, Untakhan taps his knuckle on the window three times, and the car pulls away from the hotel.

“The villa’s on the other side of town,” Untakhan says. “And a major road has been shut down.” He turns to me. “As we go, I’m sorry I tried rapid induction; I wasn’t yet aware of Ace’s seduction.”

“Um… that’s alright, I guess.”

“You don’t understand? Then let me explain: if I’d gone and tried, it would be in vain. Oh, I could still do it, but not quick and not here. It requires full attention, and tools for your mind to clear.”

I was still confused, but Untakhan wasn’t going to explain. Ace leans over and whispers “He can still do a long induction.”

“Ah…” I say. I have the faintest feeling like I’m caught in some trap with both a mesmerizing stallion and a hypnotist zebra in the same car. Like the only safe place to be is outside the car or back at the hotel but I can’t bring myself to even try to leave.

We’re a little outside the main center of town, following the train tracks. I’m kind of an outsider, so I leave most of the conversation to Ace and Untakhan. Now that he’s not trying to pull a fast one on me, the zebra is actually quite pleasant company and seems to have heard of some of the strange events that happened in Ponyville. I tell him all that I know, and while Ace initially looks at me with a tinge of disdain, it soon fades as he listens to my own stories; even as an outsider, the numerous incidents are enough to keep them satisfied.

“Your life at home sounds quite exciting,” Untakhan says with enthusiasm after I finish a story about a pair of brothers trying to sell a cider machine. “I have never been privy to such a sighting. And you say there’s a zebra that lives among you? I must come down to see what she can do.”

“Do all of you rhyme like that?” I ask him. “The only zebra I’ve ever heard spoke in rhyme.”

Untakhan gives me a smile. “Not always.” His voice no longer has the mystic quality, but he’s still quite exotic. “I grew up learning shamanistic magic, of which hypnotism is a skill I’ve passed on to Ace. I can speak in the normal tongue, but Blackjack is… rather fond of it.”

“So that must mean that Zecora back home also must have shamanstic blood. Admittedly, I’ve only known her sparingly and never saw her home nor spoke to her often.”

“It is a rare thing. Take great pride that a zebra shaman has come to visit you. Tell me more about your home.”

“Well, I’ve been out for a year,” I tell him. “I’m not as familiar with what goes on around there. And I think I’ve enjoyed it more being with Ace; I never was part of the events back home, but here I’m actually doing something.”

Untakhan nods and closes his eyes sagely. “’Tis certainly a pleasure to use one’s body and mind in pursuit of knowledge. I’m surprised you’ve finally listened to my words, Ace. Might you tell me the circumstances which this whole thing came about?”

“I should have listened to you earlier, my old teacher,” Ace says, partly reverently. “I was rather lonely and needed someone to help. I found both in Caramel; he’s excellent in his work and rather nice to have in the same room.”

“Have you enjoyed any… carnal pleasures?”

Ace and I respond at the same time. “What? No.”

I continue. “I do believe we had our first actual conversation last night.”

“It did end in a makeout session,” Ace reminds me.

Drat. He does still remember. “Yeah, but it actually had buildup this time.”

Untakhan laughs. “Ace, my friend, Caramel here is quite the treasure. Remember he’s not just for show, but take into account the wealth that he’s given you.”

“Is that another tenant you’ve yet withheld from me?”

“Recent personal experience led to strict adherence. But for now I must return to rhyme, though I’d like to talk more sometime. I’m afraid that we must stop here; Blackjack’s villa is very near.”

Ace and I both look out the windows of the car. Ahead of us is a rather luxurious-looking pale yellow mansion that had some basis in ancient Greek architecture with a massive courtyard boasting a white pegasus fountain statue and lined with intricately-designed columns around a central, almost garden-like area. The chauffeur pulls up into the courtyard in front of a wide portico with stairs leading up to a set of double doors, finely-polished wood with intricate designs in the glass that reminded me of the four card suits: diamonds and clubs on one door, hearts and spades on the other.

Untakhan steps out and holds the door open for us as me and Ace walk into the villa’s foyer. It’s a large, square room with a glass ceiling to let in natural light and a few lights by the doorways. There are three doors out of the foyer; Untakhan takes us to the door on the left, where we are led into a large sitting room. From there, we head out another door and find ourselves in a garden atrium, and are led across that out onto a large stone porch looking out to the sea.

It’s evening now, the sun beginning to lower onto the horizon, as we approach Blackjack in a deep blue suit, standing with a glass of wine in his hand, leaning on the bannister around the porch and looking out to sea, and the rose-maned mare in nothing but a bikini sunning herself on a lounge chair.

“Ah, the early winter evenings,” Blackjack says as we approach. “It’s only five o’clock, but I’m already prepared to eat, do a few last-minute things, and go to bed. What do you think, Ace?” he says, turning around and motioning to the villa. “Fine piece of architecture, isn’t she?”

“Quite the property,” Ace admits. “If I wasn’t moving around so often, I’d half be inclined to find one myself.”

“Ah, but it was a rather troublesome business.” He motions to the rose-maned mare; she gets up and comes over to his side. “It was supposed to go to someone else, originally, but then they found him out for fraud. Had to repair the damage he did to the place before I even set foot on it. Roseluck, why don’t you go put on that dark green evening dress of yours for dinner?”

“Of course,” the mare says, and walks off. She passes by me with a wink and a rather coy smile before retreating back into the house.

“Untakhan, please go and check with the kitchen. See if dinner’s ready.”

The zebra merely nods before he goes back into the house.

“In the meantime, would either of you like a glass of wine? I have a wonderful claret from 2009 or an excellent fruity Dom Ponygnon champagne from 2005, though I would like to save that for the dinner.”

“I’ll take the claret,” Ace says.

“So will I,” I respond.

Blackjack motions and I see a young Earth pony in a white jacket come over and pour two glasses of wine from a bottle before handing one to me and one to Ace.

“Where did you say you come from again?” Blackjack asks me.

“Ponyville,” I reply. “Admittedly, I’m not used to such events.”

“Well, you seem to have a fine taste in wine,” Blackjack says with an approving nod. “Is there a vintner nearby in Ponyville?”

“We have Berry Punch. She specializes in fruit wines but her Syrah and Pinot Noir have recently won awards at a Canterlot competition.”

“Ah, yes. I was one of the judges last year. She thoroughly trounced that one from the Crystal Empire. What do you think of the claret?”

“Certainly beats whatever Berry’s made, but I’d prefer a Cabernet Sauvignon; plus, the claret’s a bit dry for my taste.”

Blackjack sets down his empty glass and gives a rather excited clap. “Excellent taste, Caramel! Perhaps you could teach Ace a thing or two. I’ve not been able to get him off the Rieslings ever since we met.”

“I had a pinot noir last night,” Ace replies. “I’ve been learning things on my own without Caramel’s help. As a matter of fact, it is only recently that myself and Caramel have discovered a similar taste in wines.”

“Ah, so you have been learning!” Blackjack lets out a loud laugh.

There is a rhythmic set of footsteps and Untakhan has joined us out on the porch again. “Fifteen minutes,” he says simply.

Blackjack stops laughing and looks at glares at the zebra. “I’m sorry…?”

Untakhan sighs. “Fifteen minutes to breathe the champagne. Dinner will be served when sunlight begins to wane.”

Blackjack smiles patronizingly. “Thank you. You may change and join us tonight if you so wish, but first make sure Roseluck is ready.”

Untakhan nods and leaves again.

“Tribal background,” Blackjack said. “Supposedly knows some powerful magic. It helps being a unicorn, but he knows some old zebra spells for good luck. I swear it’s how I’ve been gaining so much profit from my business investments.”

“Has it grown at all?” Ace asks. “Last I heard it was the one casino here and a restaurant in here, Manehattan, and Las Pegasus.”

“I have added two more restaurants; one in Canterlot and one in Vanhoover. All working quite splendidly; I only hire the finest to serve in the restaurant; must have five years’ experience elsewhere at minimum, and even then ninety percent of applicants don’t enter.”

We sip our wines quietly for a while. Blackjack goes for a second round, but I hold off on the pretense of not wanting to spoil the champagne; I get a glass of water to sip to rinse my palette.

“Are either of you opposed to meat?” Blackjack asks once I’ve got my water.

“What sort?” Ace asks suspiciously.

“Fish. I managed to order a fresh catch of sea-bound salmon.”

“I eat it on rare occasions,” Ace replies, not as on-edge. “I stick to it about once a month.”

“What about steak or chicken?”

“Doctor told me once a month of seafood and farm meat; I’m missing a few proteins I otherwise can’t make naturally.”

“Good, so fish will work?”

“Just so long as it’s not sentient,” Ace comments.

“All living things are sentient, Ace,” Blackjack says. “What you mean is that it’s not sapient. It’s not as wise as we are to have created things like civilization. Take Untakhan for example. Some members of his species are sapient and have created culture, music, dance, literature. But some members are merely sentient, and hunting them is treated like sport.”

“And how would you ultimately define that?” I ask Blackjack.

“If it speaks, I can’t eat it,” he says simply.

Untakhan returns to the porch and nods.

“Ah, it seems dinner is ready. Where is Roseluck?”

“She needed the toilet before wearing her dress. She’ll be down in just a minute, I’d guess.”

“Excellent. So long as she comes quick; I’m not keen on waiting for her all evening.” Blackjack turns to me and Ace. “Come, come. The dining room is right off the main sitting room. We’ll still have our ocean view.”

We followed Untakhan back through the atrium and into the sitting room before veering off and entering a large dining room with a table set for five; one at the head and four seated around. Blackjack took his space at the head; Ace and Untakhan sat on either side of him, and I sat next to Ace across from an empty space.

The empty space was soon filled by the rose-maned mare, wearing a green evening dress, rose-shaped earrings, and a pair of black hoof-covers that looked to be made of leather. Blackjack sighs as she takes her seat across from me. She extends a hand.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she says. I shake hands and she soon repeats the gesture with Ace. “The name’s Roseluck. I’m a florist; most of the plants in the atrium are mine that I’ve grown. I sell them and do flower arranging at his restaurants.”

“Quite the position,” Ace says.

An attendant pours us all a glass of the Dom Ponygnon – a sweet, fizzy drink with a sharp bite – as Roseluck continues. “Yes. I used to come from a smaller town in Equestria, but once Blackjack made me the offer of staying with him in his villa and being his own companion, well, I couldn’t help myself.”

The meal comes out. First comes the salmon, cooked and seasoned with garlic, herbs, and butter and finished with a honey mustard demiglaze and served with a pile of creamy mashed potatoes and asparagus covered in a white sauce. Next comes a small bowl of peas, corn, and carrot pieces, followed by a plate with a slice of pineapple, in the center of which is a medley of strawberries and blueberries. Finally, there’s a rather large serving of a toasted sourdough with a small dish of something that reminded me of blackberries on first sight except they’re both shinier and smaller.

The meal is expensive. Moreso than anything I’m used to. Ace orders big occasionally but never fancy. The others dig in almost immediately as though they’re quite familiar with the food and order, but I notice Roseluck seems to be having almost as difficult a time as I am in deciding which should come first.

Blackjack pulls out a slice of the buttered sourdough and immediately places some of the beads on it.

“What is it?” I can’t help but ask.

Blackjack looks over to Ace and smiles. Roseluck is taking a bite of it as well and seems to enjoy it. Ace and Untakhan refuse to touch it.

“Try it,” Blackjack says mischievously.

I take a bit of the sourdough and mimic what I saw Blackjack doing; taking the smaller-than-usual knife and spreading them on a small piece. I bite into the toast; the beads themselves are slightly salty and slightly fishy in taste, but it’s soon melded into the flavor of the sourdough. It actually tastes good.

“I quite like it.”

“It’s Sevruga caviar,” he says. He waits for me to take another bite before continuing. “Fish eggs.”

I’m surprised that I don’t immediately spit it out. Instead, I wash it down with a gulp of the champagne before moving onwards to the salmon, which everyone else has started on. Blackjack laughs for a while before calming down enough to speak.

“Well, at least you have your manners. You say you come from Ponyville? You act like you come from a higher background.”

“Ace has been teaching me,” I say, pointing to the white stallion with my fork.

“Indeed,” Ace says. He takes a bite of the caviar without incident. “Some of the first four months he’s been with me were edicate. I told him we’d be out on the town at least somewhat frequently and he needed to learn how to behave in higher-end establishments. Caught on quite well.”

“Quite so, quite so,” Blackjack mused. “Oh, and how’s the old wound doing?”

“Still hurts every once in a while,” Ace replies casually. “The surgery resulted in quite the bump on my forehead, but I don’t think too many paid attention to it.”

“What happened to you?” I ask him.

“Rather nasty incident with a fall,” Ace says. “Split my head open a little. Needed stitches and a skin graft from my thigh.”

“It’s healed up well, though,” Blackjack says. “I made sure he had the best treatment. It happened at my casino; bad fall down some stairs when he was late one time.”

“Surprised it didn’t knock the magic out of me,” Ace comments. “I was kind of scared for a while I’d be fired almost as soon as I was hired.”

“Oh, I could have picked you up as a dealer,” Blackjack says with a wave of his hand. “You were good with the cards even then. Remind me how you earned your cutie mark?”

“Won a game of baccarat,” Ace says. “I was just taught how to play; father was a big fan of it and taught me every game he knew – blackjack, hold ’em, baccarat, bridge, you name it. He had a seven and I had a seven. I drew one more and it was the Ace of Diamonds. I trounced him when he got a four and had his score reduced to one. Been my specialty to work with cards ever since.”

“You could still have learned my technique,” Untakhan spoke up. “Even among your magicians, it’s quite unique.”

“True, true,” Blackjack replies. “We’d have found a spot for you somewhere.”

They got to talking about magic. I quickly bored of them and turned to face the mare looking at me with interested eyes.

“So, what do you do?” Roseluck asks me.

“Well, I do a lot of technical stuff for Ace’s magic shows. I manage the sound, camera, lights, and help set up the stage beforehoof.”

“Well, that sounds exciting,” Roseluck says, genuinely interested. “Certainly much more so than my job. I’ve always wanted to go backstage at some of those events.”

“It’s quite hectic, and Ace always has me working to the last minute. I imagine you have much more time available than I at work.”

“It depends,” Roseluck says. “I have to pick flowers, arrange them, and make sure the arrangements compliment the establishment I’m working for. And sometimes I have to come in every other day to give them water and fertilizer.”

“Do you… sleep with Blackjack?”

“Oh, not in the literal sense. I have my own room here. Every once in a while, he calls me in and we have a few hours passion, but then I’m in my own room.” Roseluck debates another bite of the caviar, but soon pushes the dish away. “What about you?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t gone that far with Ace.”

“So, what does that make you? You certainly don’t sound as effeminate as I’ve heard Ace likes them.”

“A partner. Just… not as intimate.”

“Ever tried it with a mare?”

“A few times. But all the relationships ended badly.”

Roseluck nods. “Fair enough. I suppose I can understand why you’re around Ace. Such a… charismatic fellow. It’s too bad he doesn’t on the whole prefer the female persuasion, though I’ve heard he’s had a few flings.”

“You’re almost as easy on the eyes.”

Roseluck laughs and I can see her blush. “Well, thank you, but I’m afraid I’m currently spoken for.” She eyes Blackjack adoringly for a moment before looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Though, if things don’t work out, I might be more willing to take you up on that offer. Honestly, the only thing I don’t like about this is that zebra.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he certainly comes in handy. He knows some magic that helps me go to sleep at night and lessens my anxiety. But occasionally it feels like Blackjack has him watching over me like a hawk.”

“Like when?”

“Well, he had a meeting with a few people in black suits. Told Untakhan to keep me out of the study. Every single time I wanted to go ask him something about what was going on, he was already there telling me to hold on and wait. I’d listen because I didn’t want to disturb him, and we’d be back to normal.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem too bad to me. Either Blackjack or Untakhan.”

“No, not really,” Roseluck admits. “Blackjack’s nice when not dealing with business and Untakhan is rather helpful whenever I need him to do something.”

“He seems an intelligent sort,” I comment.

“Yes, but I’m not allowed to speak to him unless I need something. Something about powerful magic that could mess with my head.”

I had nearly experienced that magic back at the hotel. It was not hard to believe.

A short while later, when dinner was finishing up, Blackjack was talking about his casino and Roseluck and I rejoined the conversation.

“Oh, you should come on down and see it,” Blackjack said. “I’ve been renovating the game room and recently placed all new tables in it. We could have some lunch, play a few games of baccarat or Canterlot Hold ‘Em, and end the night with a drink at the club. What say you, Ace?”

“I’d say it sounds excellent,” Ace replies, “so long as it’s not a weekend.”

“Well, I have some business ventures to attend to while I’m here, but next Monday should be sufficient. I could have Untakhan come around and bring you again.”

“That would be excellent.”

“Now,” Blackjack says as he pads his mouth with his napkin before an attendant takes it and the plates away, “normally I’d invite you to stay for a little coffee, but I think I’m rather in need of a good soak in the tub and a swim before bed. These early winter evenings throw me off somewhat.”

“Probably it would be a good time to head home anyways,” Ace says, checking his own watch. “We’ve stayed quite long; it’s nearly eight o’clock already and I don’t wish to intrude on your hospitality.”

“Nonsense!” Blackjack says jovially. “I should invite you around more often.”

A few minutes later, we were at the doorway of the foyer. The lights were on all over the villa and the chauffeur was bringing the long black car around again. Untakhan once again motions for us to get in the car and the three of us speed off into the night back to our hotel.

“You should write us more often,” Ace tells the zebra as we step out at the hotel.

“Ah, I wish I could,” he says mournfully. “But writing among us shamans is a very powerful and sacred act. Whatever we write usually comes out as either a blessing or a curse. I do not wish to accidentally curse you when I simply mean to tell you of what I’m doing of late.”

“Still,” Ace says. “We should be in contact more often.” He shakes his hand. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll try not to.” Untakhan pulls Ace into a hug, which he willingly returns, and releases him before turning to me. “You couldn’t have found a better or more intelligent companion, Caramel,” he tells me. “Remember that.”

I nod and we shake hands before Untakhan gets back into the black car and leaves.

“So, what do you think of them now?” Ace asks as we near our suite.

“Quite the expensive company,” I tell him. “Eh… I don’t know about him. He’s better than I would have pinned him for at first sight. But I like the zebra fellow and Roseluck was particularly nice. Didn’t talk to her too much; but I got a feeling for her.”

Ace suddenly goes deathly silent and I can’t even hear his breath. He stays that way until we’ve entered the suite and gone to the bedroom, wherein he shuts the door with both of us inside and strips off in front of me.

“Caramel,” he asks, “come to me.”

I go, my own shirt off, until I’m inches away from him. He stares at me for a while, holding me in his gaze that I can’t look away from, then pulls me in for a kiss. When we finally pull away, his eyes are locked on mine and I’ve lost sight of everything but him.

“Forget about her, Caramel,” Ace says slowly and soothingly, hand gently caressing my cheek. “To me, you’re much better than any of them are.”

The next few hours before we go to bed are a blur. By the next morning, I’ve pushed everything I know about the previous night at Blackjack’s to the back of my head. The only one I’m interested in right now is Ace and how sweet and tender and gentle he is to me. I cuddle up closer to him and fall back into a half sleep as I feel his arm reach around me and gently massage my back.

“My sweet, sweet Caramel…” I hear Ace muttering. He chokes and clings to me a little while, but I don’t mind. I wrap my arms around him and let him quietly cry as he buries his head in my neck and strokes my mane. Probably the stress of seven years is only recently catching up.

Author's Note

large blind = forced bet played by the second player to the left of the dealer, usually equivalent to the minimum bet of the table

Call – Pink-Stained Windows and Green Felt Tables

On Thursday, I woke to a rather strange sight.

I was alone in the bedroom for the first time in a rather long time. Normally, I would have been woken up when Ace told me to, but Ace wasn’t even in the bedroom. The room was quiet and I only made out the sounds of the sea and the street outside bustling in the early morning. I look over to the nightstand where the alarm is sitting and see the time as nine twenty in the morning.

Ace probably hadn’t gone far. I get up, dress myself in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, and walk outside the bedroom to contemplate breakfast. Instead, I find Ace sitting in a lounge chair on our porch looking out over the sea, a cup of coffee in his hands and another one seated on the table nearby.

I go to the kitchen without disturbing him. I make a simple bowl of oatmeal with sliced banana and strawberries before heading over to him and sitting in the other lounge chair across the table. It’s quite cool outside, but Ace is only wearing the black shorts he slept in last night. He has a rather content look on his face, and his red mane is lying down in the shape of a diamond over his head.

“Morning, Caramel,” he says after a while.

“Morning, Ace,” I reply. “How long have you been up?”

“Oh, only half an hour,” he tells me. “I made the pot of coffee. I’m on my second cup and brought one out for you as well.”

“How did you know?” I ask him. “That I’d come out to join you.”

“In your slightly-tranced state, you always stay close. That, and you almost always question me if I do something out of the ordinary.”

“Perhaps one of these mornings, I should just go through my usual routine then sit in the living room and read a book. See how long it takes for you to come over.”

Ace laughs. “Not long, I imagine.”

We sit in silence on the porch for a while. We sip our coffee and I finish off my oatmeal. I get up only to wash my dishes before returning to the porch, noting that there indeed is something magnetizing about the stallion that prevents me from going too far away from him for very long.

“We should do something today,” Ace says once I’ve settled in again.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Perhaps find an interesting museum of art or natural history. Walk through the old downtown and peruse the shops. I like the day off, but I’m not fond of sitting around here all day.”

“Sure,” I say. “Gives us some time to talk, too.”

“Yeah,” he says. “You know, I’ve really been starting to think about why we hadn’t done this earlier.”

“Starved for contact, maybe? Skipped over most of the whole ‘getting to know you’ bit before diving right in with the physical intimacy?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve complained,” Ace says. On his face is the closest thing I’ve seen to a shit-eating grin from him. “You’ve quite enjoyed them, even.”

I blush and look over to Ace. He’s quite relaxed, leaning back on his lounge chair in a rather evocative position. If I had even a shade less decency, I’d be torn between wanting to slap him across the face or pressing his mouth against mine. As it stands, all I do is sit and stare for a minute before going back to my coffee as though nothing happened.

Ace is laughing again. He gets up out of his chair and comes over to me. His hands start to gently knead my shoulders and he nuzzles my cheek. “Caramel, relax,” he says, his soft tenor whispering in my ear, flooding over me. I feel myself get heavy and drop into the chair, leaning back just a little bit. My coffee cup leaves my hand and there’s the sound of ceramic tapping glass as Ace places it on the table next to us, but I’m already too weak to move or care. “You know I’d never do anything of the sort without your permission.”

Ace quietly leaves my shoulders and comes around to my chest, where he lies down on top of me, his hips matching mine and his hooves winding around mine. There’s a quick snap, the flick of a card, and I can see the familiar ace of hearts swinging back and forth in front of me, hiding both one blue eye then the other.

“Relax, Caramel,” Ace gently whispers. “Relax… Just keep following the gentle pattern. Watch as the card gently sways back and forth in front of your vision. It’s an easy, simple, calming pattern, and you find yourself beginning to breathe in time with each swing.”

My hands are already limp at my sides. I can do nothing more but stare deep into Ace’s eyes, follow the ace of hearts gently swinging back and forth in front of my vision, and listen to the mesmerizing intonations. Ace brings a hand up to my cheek and begins caressing it and I find myself leaning into it, enjoying the warmth and tenderness.

“That’s it, Caramel, just enjoy this peaceful relaxation, enjoy this moment of bliss. You feel warm and relaxed, your body feeling heavy and limp. Let my gentle caress relax you even further, the gentle touch adding to your peaceful state.”

I can’t look away from Ace. Neither can I move. I don’t care. I feel calm and relaxed, and already a sleepy feeling has descended on me. Part of me still wants to slap Ace, but it’s moved more towards wanting to press my mouth against his because that will at least get him to shut up.

But, for some reason, I can tell that’s coming up anyway.

“You enjoy this relaxation. You enjoy following the card and begin to let go of all your stresses. All your cares. All your worries. You enjoy just relaxing and watching the ace and staring into my eyes. No need to worry about anyone or anything else right now; your eyes beginning to feel slightly heavy as you become completely relaxed all over. ”

His hand is off my cheek and is now between us, gently rubbing my chest. But it’s soon gone from there and goes over to my side and I feel him press his chest against mine in a sort of half hug; our combined weight is too heavy to actually lift me up to wrap around me, but he’s as close as he can get. He’s gently smiling, thoroughly enjoying this, and I’m beginning to feel it, too.

I wonder how many ponies are looking up at us on the hotel’s fifth floor like this. And sometimes, if I’m really thinking about it, I wonder what they think about it.

Ace seems to read my mind. “Let go of your thoughts and just enjoy the moment here with me. Now, I’m going to flick the card and, without looking away or thinking about it too hard, I want you to realize that it turns into a ten of hearts, though it keeps the gentle sway from earlier.”

And there they go. Nothing but Ace’s eyes, voice, and the swinging card remain.

“In just a moment, I’m going to count down starting with ten. With every number I count down, the card will flick and change to that number. I want you to keep watching the gentle sway of the card and don’t be alarmed. Are you ready, Caramel?”

I nod, my eyes not leaving Ace or the card in his hand.

Ace’s voice is slow, methodical, wrapping me up in every word he says. “Ten… You’ve found an easy pace and rhythm.

“Nine… You’re feeling yourself become more and more relaxed.

“Eight… Your body is feeling heavy and relaxed as you sink deeper.

“Seven… You’re letting go of your stress and inhibitions.

“Six… Keep breathing steadily in and out, the even tempo and rhythm allowing your heart rate to slow and become calm and relaxed.

“Five… Your focus is starting to drift, perhaps into my eyes, but you’re still following the card.

“Four… your eyelids are getting heavy, but keep them open and watch the gentle sway.

“Three… Your breathing is becoming slower and more even, still following the rhythm of the card.

“Two… Almost back to the ace, and almost to full relaxation.

“One…”

And then the card suddenly snaps away and his lips are pressed softly against mine, one hand on either side of my head. I have the slightest amount of feeling in my arms, just enough to lift them up and wrap them around his back. Ace pulls his body forward across me and pins my head, starting to lift, against the back of the lounge chair as he draws in for another kiss. The air is warmer, but I can hardly feel it with Ace’s body next to mine.

At last, he pulls away.

“You cheated,” I tell him, able to speak though I’m still a little sleepy from the trance.

“You’re smiling,” he purrs, a smile on his own face. It’s not the shit-eating grin of earlier, but a warm, tender smile.

He’s not lying about mine, either. “Oh, shut up.” And I pull him down for another.

We’re there for another ten or so minutes, Ace resting his head on my chest and gently teasing me through the shirt, before I wake up and Ace decides to get himself showered and dressed if we’re to go to a museum. I finish getting ready once he’s done in the bathroom, and redress before we leave the hotel and head down to the street. Ace flags a taxi and we get into the back.

“Take us to the Baltimare Historic District Museum Park,” Ace says.

“Be about a fifteen minute drive,” the cab driver says.

Ace is about to pay the fare when I stop him. “Can you drive by the casino?”

The cab driver looks at me suspiciously. “I ain’t goin’ by there,” he says darkly. “Look, you can see it from the Museum Park. I’ll just take ya there.”

I’m about to argue, but Ace places a hand to my chest. I look over to him and he merely shakes his head, a stern look on his face. I decide not to ask any more about it.

The sun is shining bright and warm as we exit the cab at a large green area with paths around the outside. In the center is a large fountain, and around the sides are three large buildings. One is a museum of art, one is a museum of natural history, and one appears to be a science museum and observatory, which is almost surprising except the Historic District is rather dim at night with the exception of the museums.

Our first stop is the museum of art. As we walk through, Ace discusses the beginnings of him being a hypnotist.

“My talent with cards was noticed by a Blackjack, already a notable business and casino owner, while I was doing street performances. I already had some of my magic talent then and could do all the simple tricks. Like the ‘Is this your card?’ sort of thing, and I developed my pulling of the royal flushes, too. So, he took me under his wing.

“I was originally applying for a dealer. But then Blackjack noticed my magic. It was then he directed me to Untakhan. He observed my magic and decided that, being an earth pony, I had some potential. And so he taught me some of the kinder usages of Zebran shaman magic. I understood immediately that I was lucky, and absorbed his lessons fully and with intent.

“I was about to learn some of the magic when I tripped and fell down a set of stairs. I had been meeting with Blackjack and was heading downstairs to Untakhan’s room, and then I fell. I had a large gash on my head, and one of Blackjack’s men took me to the hospital. I was treated for a gash and they looked for brain damage, but thankfully there was none present.

“So it came as a surprise when I still retained my magic. I quickly regained my magical ability, and Untakhan began teaching me. It was then he taught me his three tenants – comfort, space, and conservation of movement. I was initially taught with things like a pendulum and a watch. But then I decided to try out a different thing by adding my cards into the trick. Untakhan loved it and said I should add that into my repertoire.”

“When did you start with your show?” I interject.

“Shortly afterwards,” Ace replies. “One of my favorites that I do is to take a replica of a painting and convince the audience I had borrowed the real thing. I then tear it to pieces in front of the audience and throw it into the remainder of the frame. Then I would raise a curtain as though to mourn only to have it act like it was falling apart and couldn’t support it, only for it to drop and reveal the restored painting.”

“I’ve never seen that one before,” I say with interest. “Do you think you could do it in your next show?”

“Yes, I could,” Ace says, again pleased by my interest. “We’ll stop by the gift shop on the way out. I’ll need to pick up a few replicas for it anyways. For now, why don’t we have some lunch before going to the Natural History museum?”

We head outside and find a café between the observatory and the natural history museum. We grab a couple of sandwiches and a small container of hay fries to split between us and eat in relative peace and quiet.

“So,” Ace says over lunch. “These last two days have been almost all about me. But what about you? Tell me a little about yourself. What exactly were you doing when I picked you up in Ponyville?”

“Well,” I begin, “I had a mish-mash of jobs. My main job was helping out at our apple farm. I would buck trees to get the apples out of them, and later help sort them by type. Nice family; mostly run by a brother-sister operation. But during the off-season I worked at a dessert place called Sugarcube Corner, run mostly by a family but almost all the work was done by one pony.”

“Yeah, I remember passing by there once or twice when I had the show in Ponyville,” Ace mused. “What did you do?”

“I made candies,” I said. “Caramels, like my name. I’d make a couple of large tins a day, and the other pony would help wrap them in the middle of all the other stuff I did.”

“Were they popular?”

“Oh, a little. They were a change. But the other pony knew how to make them well and could make one or two more tins than I could a day by herself. She was just so… excitable. Friendly, but way more energy than I could stand.”

Ace chuckles. “So, what do you think they would say if you saw them again?”

I shrug. “I… I don’t know, really. I don’t think about going back there. I will say I was thinking about resigning anyways. The work from the farm was better off and I was thinking about a new job that would have paid better.”

“And then I came along,” Ace says.

I nod. “Then you came along,” I repeat. “It… almost surprised me that I agreed to come along with you. I hadn’t been having a particularly bad week.”

“Your… alleged ‘friends’ had been teasing you.” Ace has a small smile, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. “I heard it all. Even some of it in the theater.”

It didn’t come to as much of a surprise as it should have. I was at least aware of Ace’s tendency to sit in the shadows before a show, but why he picked out that specific conversation… “So, how much of this had you planned ahead?”

“Little,” Ace said. “I just… went to Ponyville on a whim. It wasn’t as big and I wanted a break. I could still do the show, but the audience wouldn’t have been large.”

I nod, amused. “Quite the extraordinary set of circumstances…” I muse.

“Certainly,” Ace agrees. “Almost as though fate itself was insistent on it.”

“So is it fate or your trance that was behind our little kiss on the balcony?” I say to him with a smirk.

“Oh, fate can bring us together,” Ace says with an almost devious grin. “But a little magic doesn’t hurt to close that gap just a little.”

“A little. That qualifies as an understatement if I ever heard one.”

Ace chuckles. “It’s not like you mind.”

We finish with lunch and go through the natural history museum. Aside from the commentary on the rare gems already present on their placards, Ace provides interesting commentary about their use in the shamanistic magic he was taught.

“Crystals are the most common conduit. They’re said to increase magic power. It’s half the reason why they are what most fortune tellers use them for their seeing-eye balls. Now, if you use a gem like an onyx, that increases mental fortitude; that is, resistance against it. Blue gemstones usually stand for physical strength. Amethyst can serve as relaxation, but allows one to easily alter memories or perception. And at the end you have pink gemstones like rose quartz and pink tourmaline, which are good for love.”

“How come you never use any of those?”

“I’ve altered it slightly for cards. Hearts are the most pleasing to look at for most and also places a subliminal projection of kindness and trust, thus it’s easier for them to fall under because they’re more relaxed.”

“Ever use another suit?”

Ace takes a moment to think it over. “I’d place diamonds as mental fortitude, spades as physical strength, and clubs for perception. I don’t think I’d ever use a suit besides hearts on stage.”

“That’s the one you use on me, isn’t it?”

“It’s familiar, as well. It’s important to stick to one thing and not to change things up too much. I lose touch, and you lose comfort via lack of familiarity.”

It’s evening when we leave the natural history museum, now closing, and go to the observatory. It’s part museum – holding exhibits of space explorations, old science equipment, interactive exhibits, and displays, and part working facility. It also is relatively tall, taller than the other two museums, and provides special viewing lenses to look at the rest of the town, from the darkening and quieting Historic District all the way to the more modern, brightly lit downtown.

Ace motions me over to one of these viewing lenses and places a bit in it. He moves to the viewing lens and moves the scope around until it’s facing towards a particularly bright patch off in the distance. I can just make out a large black building with shining neon lights. It towers over everything in the Historic District and likely would be almost three times the size of the Salt and Sea Hotel and Suites.

Once he’s got the view focused, Ace steps out of the way and motions me over. I step in and look through the viewfinder.

On closer view, the building looks like a big black monolith covered in red and pink neon. I’m first looking at the entrance hall decorated in white marble with a poker motif, led into by three sets of glass double-doors. Over the entrance lies a giant sign saying “Blackjack’s 21 Hotel and Casino”, an image of the pale-gray unicorn tipping a hat at one side and an ace and a king of spades, the traditional 21 in the namesake game.

“Supposedly the single most expensive project ever in Baltimare,” Ace tells me as I look over the thing. “Over 500 hundred rooms and suites, a gambling hall, two restaurants, two clubs, a theater, its own personal gardens, spa and workout center, at least 5 meeting rooms for businesses, and a museum of historic transportation, plus what rather amounts to a small mall filled with mostly high-end merchandise. Takes up practically two whole blocks on its own.”

I’m half realizing just how giant the structure really is and wondering how all of that can fit into one building. I step away from the viewfinder as it shuts off and look off into the distance, noting the giant sphere of light created by the casino despite the darkening sky all around it. Over the bay where we’re staying, stars have come out and the streets are only lit by the occasional gas lamp.

I already prefer the hotel we’re staying at, but I am curious. “You knew about the casino, right? Why not stay there?”

“It’s expensive, luxurious, and immensely popular. I stay there and will be almost immediately recognized and swarmed. Plus, as nice and modern as it is, I prefer the more antique look and warm feel of our hotel.”

I have to agree with him. The Salt and Sea is painted in brilliant blues and whites, and the inside of our suite feels like an old-time townhouse painted in soft creams, warm browns, and sea blue. It feels natural to the eye, unlike the sharp red and the shadowy black of the casino.

Once we’re done at the observatory, Ace hails a taxi and we’re heading out for dinner. There’s a small, homey restaurant only a block away from the hotel and we’re soon having a fine if simple dinner on the harbor, the waves gently lapping as we dine on the patio under candlelight.

It’s almost romantic.

“One thing I must compliment Blackjack on,” I say in the middle of dinner.

Ace stops with a forkful of food to his mouth. “What’s that?”

“Aside from the caviar, he certainly knows how to make a great meal.”

Ace laughs. “You should have seen the look on your face when he said it was fish eggs.”

“They weren’t that bad,” I say. “Just what they were took me off-guard.”

“Yeah, with the right amount of toast to go with, they’re not so bad. But I’ll keep away from them. I’ll just eat the fish.”

When dinner’s finished, Ace orders a port and has me try it. It’s dark red like the pinot noir or the claret, but it’s sweet and served with a side of chocolate chips, which taste rather well with it though I can still feel the fire of the alcohol in my cheeks once it’s finished.

Back at the hotel, Ace showers and begins preparing his things for tomorrow. It won’t be as long or as stressful as the opening weekend, but it’s still a weekend and there’s still a show to put on. When Ace finishes, he calls me over to join him on the couch. He ends up making it where my head is in his lap, lying on the couch as we watch a movie. He gently strokes my mane and whispers what sounds like nonsense until I’m almost asleep then keeps me there for a while, floating in a gentle state of euphoric relaxation.

Finally, at almost midnight, he wakes me.

“Caramel,” he says. “We should go to bed.”

It’s a suggestion, not a command. “I should shower first.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.”

And wait he does. When I come back into the bedroom, he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers and a wide grin on his face. His eyes are half shut and he’s motioning towards me slowly and lazily with a single hand.

“I think a year is a long enough wait for the first time…” he says.

* * *

Monday morning finds me lying down on Ace’s chest wearing nothing but boxers. Ace has his hands and hooves wrapped around mine, and the first thing I hear from him is a content sigh. I’m too relaxed to move, and half of me wondered if he hypnotized me last night or if it was simply another round of sex.

“Blackjack’s today?” I mumble from my position with my nose on his chest. He still smells clean from last night.

“Yeah,” Ace says softly, soothingly. He gently runs a hand through my mane. “Not until later.”

“What time ‘sit?”

“Only ten. You were working hard last night.”

I had been. In addition to all my other duties, one of the stage hands had come down with a cold. I had been running back and forth between behind the stage and up in the room, nearly constantly talking into the headset just to make sure things ran smooth. Afterwards, Ace had tripped and had actually had a small sprain on his ankle, just above the hoof. This required me to not only do most of the packing but also to carry the cases from the theater to the hotel room and set Ace up and make sure he wasn’t hurt too badly. Janus had helped somewhat, like with bandaging his leg and packing the cases, but otherwise I had been on my own.

“How’s your leg?” I ask as I remember this.

“Alright,” Ace says. “I think I can walk fine. But I probably need to rest up for about a week.”

“What about your show next weekend?”

“I just simply won’t do as much pacing and wear a brace. It’s already bandaged good and I’m keeping weight off it.”

“You should go to the doctor.”

“Yeah, maybe we should check in at emergency before meeting up with Blackjack.”

And so I get up and get myself ready before helping Ace. We walk out at about ten thirty and flag down a cab again, this time taking us towards the more modern part of Baltimare and to a clean, white hospital.

At the hospital, we go to the emergency check-in. Thankfully, the people at the hospital are fans of Ace and send us off to a room for an X-ray almost as soon as I’ve finished explaining what happened. The doctor comments on the bandage before gently stripping it off and placing Ace’s leg in a machine. The machine scans it for about five minutes before revealing an image, which the doctor notices.

“No fractures,” he tells us. “That’s good. We’ll have to put a good bandage around it and maybe a special hoof-cover with brace to keep it steady and not rolling around. In the meantime, I’ll send you to the pharmacy and write up a prescription for a pain reliever and muscle relaxant.”

“When is it going to be healed?” I ask.

“Well, the damage is minor,” he says. “It’s not as bad as I first thought, but I’d give it a week before the hoof-cover comes off. Take it off for baths but put it back on when you’re done, and keep it elevated as much as possible.”

“What about my show?” Ace asks.

“No pacing around on stage is all I can say,” the doctor tells him. “If you need to, bring out a stool for the card tricks or if you need to again. Even leaning on it will help.”

Ace is disappointed, but we leave and return to the hotel at about twelve thirty with a small paper bag containing a pain reliever pill he’s supposed to take twice a day; once in the morning and once at night with a meal. I make him a small sandwich and give him some chips from our stores and he eats it gratefully with a long drink of water.

“Well,” Ace says, “hopefully Blackjack won’t be making us run around his casino. He’s particularly proud of it and likes showing it off whenever he can.”

Once Ace has finished, he ends up dozing off for a while, still clothed in case he needs to get up and go. I do a bit of cleaning and sit down with a book in the living room. After a few minutes, the phone rings.

“I have a call for Ace from an ‘Untakhan’,” the hotel concierge says.

“Ace’s assistant speaking. What’s the message?”

“Just that he’s waiting downstairs,” the concierge says.

“Alright. I’ll let him know. Tell him we’ll be down in five minutes.”

“I will, sir. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you.”

I walk over to the bedroom. I gently tap Ace on the shoulder and watch him slowly come to his senses. He looks at me with a smile and pulls me down towards him before I can get a word out. At least his lips are still working.

“You should wake me up more often,” Ace says with a smirk.

I half want to slap him. “Untakhan’s here. He’s waiting downstairs. Hotel concierge called us on the room phone.”

Ace stretches himself and slowly gets out of bed. He gets himself a jacket and tells me to get the jacket and the watch he gave me and we’re soon leaving the suite. We take the elevator down to spare Ace’s leg and walk out to the lobby to find Untakhan reading a magazine.

“You’re stiff today, Ace,” he says as we approach.

“Sprained my leg after last night’s show,” Ace replies as Untakhan comes over to help me carry him. “Should be good in a week. For now, have to keep the weight off it.”

“I could offer you an herbal remedy,” Untakhan offers as we slide into the black sedan. “It could heal you up in a few days.”

“No, thank you,” Ace says politely but firmly. He says no further, and I get the feeling from Untakhan immediately laying off on the subject that it’s a conversation they’ve both had before and one that Ace didn’t immediately like.

“Should only take fifteen minutes to reach the casino,” Untakhan says. “They’ve cleared up the mess that was blocking the main roads. Blackjack wants to take you to the newest club before heading over to the poker and baccarat tables.”

“Ace was telling me he hopes he doesn’t go running around the casino with his leg,” I comment.

“I would think not,” Untakhan says. “He’s got immense pride for the establishment, but he also seems a more straight-to-the-point sort of pony lately.”

“Rather encouraging,” Ace says, a hint of sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“He merely spent last week speaking liberally because he hasn’t seen you for a while. Once he got word of when we arrived, it was his first idea to attend one of your shows, but we didn’t get the first night.”

“Sold out,” I say. “Full house. Same with the second night.”

“And we barely managed to catch the third,” Untakhan tells me.

“So, who all will be there today?” Ace asks. “Fine Print still too busy?”

“It’s a Monday, so he’ll be going around the businesses. Roseluck will be joining us again, though she may leave early to help set up one of the casino restaurants.”

A few minutes later, Untakhan falls silent.

“Do you not like speaking in rhyme?” I ask

“It is an insult to be treated like a circus act,” he says. “Not like home where rhymes have purpose and tact. Magic and spells to alter the mind, restore the body, or make inhibitions blind.”

I look between Ace and Untakhan. “Why didn’t you go into something different like medicine or therapy?”

“Therapy bores me,” Ace says. “I like the look on someone’s face if they can’t figure out what I’m doing.”

“Pays better than that sort of job,” Untakhan replies. “And I wouldn’t get chased by an angry mob.”

“Still having trouble fitting in?” I ask sympathetically.

Untakhan nods but doesn’t speak.

Almost seconds later, we’re pulling up to the casino and the three sets of glass double-doors I’d seen from the observatory viewfinder. I help pull Ace out of the car but he insists on walking alone; he doesn’t want to look weak in front of Blackjack.

Blackjack himself is waiting in the crowded lobby with Roseluck, almost covered in marble but filled with motifs of playing cards and gilded statues in the likenesses of the face cards. A reception counter with a finely-polished dark oak surface is filled with a bunch of young mares filling out forms and gathering guest information. Blackjack is hanging out in between two doors, one leading to a large mall with a glass top at the far end and other glass door with the words “Gambling Hall” on a white banner with red letters above it.

Blackjack approaches and holds out his hand. “Glad you could make it,” he says. “I was worried when Untakhan was taking a while that you would turn back on our little invitation.”

“No, just running a little late,” Ace says, motioning to the bandaged leg. “But, I wouldn’t miss out.”

“Should have called me,” Blackjack said, leading us onwards through the lobby into the mall with the glass top. “I could have hooked you up with a treatment.”

“My hospital visit was fast enough,” Ace says. “Everyone in the Emergency Ward heard of me, were really eager and quick. I was done with my appointment in fifteen minutes and walked out of there with a prescription. Should be good in a week…”

Ace and Blackjack continue talking as they walk ahead of me and Roseluck. Untakhan is following behind us silently keeping vigil as we make our way through the crowded mall.

“You gamble much?” Roseluck asks as we walk along.

“No, not really,” I tell her. “First time I ever really stepped in a casino. I’m familiar with poker; we used to have little tournaments back home. You?”

“Poker, same as you. I also like blackjack. It’s a simple game, really; you just have to make the value of your cards to be as close to twenty one as possible without going over.”

“I’ve heard people lose a lot of bits for such simple games,” I told her. “You read about them in the papers. Ponies who develop an addiction and lose thousands of bits, sometimes their entire lives in the space of less than a year.”

“True,” Roseluck admits. “But, if you keep a rational head about it, you can win a little. Some people spend their whole lives making money by touring Equestria and even beyond winning tournaments and playing card games.”

“Sounds a little like what Ace does, only extremely specialized.”

Roseluck laughs. “Ace has less risk. At least he gets a steady pay.”

“You play before meeting Blackjack?”

“Sparingly. I used to go with my sisters – Daisy and Lily – off to Las Pegasus once every year or so.”

“And now half of your life must be around this casino.”

“Less than that. More like around a fifth or a sixth. Blackjack is rather accommodating and helps me secure work for flower arranging. It pays well; I already have a fair amount stored in the bank.”

“Same here. Ace pays for practically everything. I’ve only spent a little on things I want for recreation – books, CDs, that sort of thing.”

By this time, we’re entering the club that Blackjack has taken us to. ‘King and Queen’ once more has the poker motif of the rest of the place, guarded by a single stallion dressed entirely in black and wearing a pair of sunglasses. Through a glass double door we enter into a small dining area and bar, dark blue with black and red accents. The place is staffed with waitresses dressed like the king and queen on the cards but more provocative with tails and chests almost fully exposed, two stallion bartenders in black and white, and a DJ set up at a booth by a dance floor and a stage with three poles on it. I have the faintest feeling that, despite the current civility and quiet of the place, when the lights come on outside the atmosphere becomes much more intimate and risqué.

Blackjack leads us back to a booth in the shape of a half-circle. He gets in first and scoots towards the back. He’s followed by Roseluck and Untakhan on one side and Ace and myself on the other. Ace looks even paler than usual; even the simple walk must have taken a lot of his energy.

A waitress comes over dressed like the red queen, soft-coated and with striking violet eyes likely tinted by the blue in the room. She’s finely sculpted and sways her hips softly every time she has to make a change in the direction she’s facing. Blackjack, Untakhan, and I are all riveted by her every movement. Roseluck looks almost jealously towards her and Ace hardly even seems to notice her.

We order food and drinks and Blackjack and Ace get to talking as drinks get served. I can only stand a root beer, while Ace gets a soda and whiskey.

“Yes, we just had a chess tournament finish up here last week,” Blackjack says. “En Passant of Vanhoover versus Checkered Space of Canterlot. Quite the match; lasted three hours. They were about to call it a stalemate when En Passant pulled a move and won. Went home fifty thousand bits richer.”

“I would have liked to have seen that one,” Ace replies. “I managed to catch a match last year. En Passant came in third due to a rather fantastic coup in the last third; I knew he’d be going on to bigger things. Did Princess Luna come to judge again?”

“No, but all three Princesses were in the audience. I’ve heard Luna and Cadence both are fond of chess and Celestia requested seats as a sort of treat.”

“Well, it is a fine sport,” Ace says. “One of the few remaining gentlemanly games left.”

“Indeed. You have no idea how many fights I’ve had break out over roulette, craps, or backgammon. Poker’s usually decent and baccarat has so few new entrants the ones that know usually keep quiet.”

“I once heard of an author who used a game of baccarat as an act in one of his thrillers. But when it became adapted for the screen, they switched it to poker. Something about not as many ponies knowing what baccarat is.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. It’s also a featured game in gambling houses in Las Pegasus and Dodge Junction, the latter of which even holds tournaments.”

The plates come around. I have a small plate of street tacos with a sort of fake steak – flavor and protein without guilt – and Ace has a nicoise salad. Notably, I seem to be having the same meal as Roseluck, who winks across the table to me.

“I just re-felted my baccarat tables, actually,” Blackjack was saying. “How about when we’re finished with lunch we play a couple of rounds to break it in? Then we can head over to the poker tables and let the real fun begin.”

“Certainly sounds like an inviting prospect to me,” Ace replies.

Blackjack turns to me. “Ever played?”

I shake my head. “I only know the count of the cards must add to nine.”

“Yes. Faces are worth zero, aces are worth one, number cards their count; total it up, the last digit’s your score. We like to play ‘chemin de fer’ here, where you can bet against other players, though we like to have a minimum bet of 500 bits at the higher tables and 25 bits at the lower.

“Once the cards are dealt,” Blackjack continued, “you have three options. If your cards total eight or nine, we have a ‘natural’ and you win automatically unless you have eight and someone else has a nine. Otherwise, you have the option to choose another card to increase your score or, if you think no one has a natural, stay where you are. Highest count then wins if no one has a natural.”

“Sounds like a simple enough game,” I say.

“Ah, but it’s quite complicated,” Blackjack says. “Say you have a five. The chances are equal of getting a card that raises or lowers your score, so where do you stand? Similarly, with a six you have more chances of lowering, but it’s not very powerful. So… do you risk or stay?”

“Sounds much like blackjack if the dealer has 14 or less,” Roseluck comments. “Do you hit to get higher or let the dealer take it and hope he busts?”

“Certainly, dear Roseluck,” Blackjack says. He’s blushing at the compliment and quickly leans in to give her a peck on the cheek. “I did not think of it that way.”

We finish with lunch and leave the club. Ace seems relieved to be out of there while Blackjack slips a note worth twenty bits into the chest of the waitress who took care of us. We leave and head back down the mall to the lobby before heading into the door under the banner with ‘Gambling Hall’ on it.

The Gambling Hall is quiet compared to the chaos of the lobby, covered in soft pink windows with grey etchings of playing cards. Blackjack leads us down a red carpet down the center of the hall to a barred window labelled ‘cashier’. As money is exchanged, I hear the rolling of dice, the gentle flipping of cards, and the spinning of roulette wheels. The air is covered in cigarette smoke and many tables have multiple ashtrays and cup holders. Attendants rush around the place, bringing drinks and cleaning the tables. Off in the distance, slot machines and games ring bells and play small tunes at the sound of wins and losses.

Just to make things interesting, both Ace and I pull out 500 bits each worth of chips, each in 25 bit increments.

“You intend to play?” Blackjack asks. “Even though you just learned?”

“I intend to try my hoof at it,” I say. “Won’t hurt to try. If nothing else, I’ll run home with my tail between my legs and admit I don’t have the skill.”

“Don’t forget there’s luck involved,” Blackjack says. “And luck is a fickle mistress.”

“Which is why I don’t tend to court her,” Ace whispers in my ear.

We make our way to an empty table, shaped much like a kidney bean and with a red and black lamp over it, that could stand to hold eight ponies around it. A stallion with a large container filled with cards and holding an oddly-shaped plastic spatula is sitting in the center and he becomes alert as we approach.

“Chemin de fer,” Blackjack says as we sit down at the green-felt table, all of us positioned at one end. “Four players, only; the zebra’s not playing.”

“Yes, Blackjack, sir,” the stallion says, now focused and at attention. “Who shall be the ‘dealer’?”

“I’ll start,” Blackjack says, pulling out a cigarette of his own and lighting it. “Move right from there. Entry bid at 25 bits.”

“Right, sir.”

The stallion – a croupier – gives Blackjack a pure white chip and immediately arranges the container of cards and deftly pulls one out of the open slot. He places a card in Ace’s direction, face down on the felt, and gives one to Blackjack in the same way. Using the spatula, he gently lifts the cards and gives them a quick push in the direction of their owners. The game has started.

Blackjack looks at his own cards. He taps the table twice. The croupier places another card on the table face up and shunts it over to him; a two of spades.

“That ought to do,” Blackjack says. “Unless you have a natural.”

Ace looks at his cards for a moment, keeping them out of view of the rest of us. He silently taps the table, specifically on one of his cards. After the fourth tap, he picks up his cards again and looks at them. He takes a moment as though to think before looking Blackjack dead in the eye.

“No card,” he says.

“Alright, sirs,” the croupier says. “Flip your cards.”

Ace and Blackjack both flip. Ace has a king and a seven. Blackjack has a two, a four, and a three.

“Nine points to position 1,” the croupier says. “Seven points to position 2. Dealer wins.”

Ace throws his cards back to the croupier. Blackjack does as well, and both insert a chip on the table. The croupier takes out a hook-like cane and pulls the chips towards him, as well as putting the discarded cards aside.

“Bet is 50 bits,” the croupier says.

“Pass,” Ace says indifferently.

“Bet is 50 bits,” the croupier repeats to me. “Either you can pass the bet on to madam, or you can bet 50 bits against the bank.”

“Why not?” I say. “Let’s go against Blackjack.”

Blackjack has an amused smirk on his face. “A little risky, eh? I like your style, Caramel.”

The croupier deals out two cards for me and two more for Blackjack. Blackjack takes a minute to look at his cards. He appears satisfied with them and places them on the table.

“No card,” he says. “Over to you, Caramel.”

It’s time to look at my cards. I pull up the cards just enough so that I can see them. I have a five and an eight. Total score of thirteen, which meant I had three points. Had to take my chances. I tap the table twice.

The croupier slides another card over to me with the spatula. This one, face up, is another five.

“Alright,” the croupier says. “Reveal your cards.”

Blackjack reveals his cards. He’s got a six and an ace.

“Seven points to position 1,” the croupier says.

I reveal my cards.

“Eighteen points to position 3,” the croupier says. “Score is eight. Player three wins.”

It’s quite satisfying when the two chips are pushed towards me. I’ve already made 100 bits and I haven’t done anything.

The game continues. Roseluck taps for another card and comes up with six to Ace’s five. Ace flings a single chip over in Roseluck’s direction and the dealer button is passed to me. Rose fails with a four to my eight, bets the bank and loses at five to seven, and soon we’re back to me and Blackjack again with 100 bits on the table and Blackjack potentially paying another 100 more.

The croupier silently deals two cards to me and two to Blackjack.

I look at my cards. I have the ace and seven of hearts to begin with. I flip them over onto the table.

Blackjack’s barely looked at his cards, but as soon as he sees mine his mouth drops.

“Position 1, reveal your cards,” the croupier says indifferently.

Blackjack does so. In them are ten and a jack. A score of zero.

“Natural eight to position 3, a ‘baccarat’ to position 1,” the croupier says. “Dealer wins.”

Blackjack is smiling at me as he places four more chips in the center of the table, but his red eyes are flaming. “Feeling lucky?” he asks.

“I could go one more,” I say.

“Betting the bank,” Blackjack says. “Two hundred bits.”

The croupier nods and pulls out two cards for me and two cards for Blackjack. I look at mine; a two and a five. Seven’s good, but I’m wondering what Blackjack has in his cards.

Ace is tapping the table. Rather louder than one would expect. Each one rings out across the otherwise calm casino. It’s not even a steady beat; it’s more of a racket than anything. Ponies at other tables are beginning to look in our direction.

“Would you please remain quiet?” the croupier asks. “Multiple games are in progress.”

“Apologies,” Ace says with a smirk that tells me he isn’t really sorry at all. But he does stop the tapping.

Having forgotten what I had, I look down at the cards.

I’m pretty sure I didn’t have that before. The five’s the same, but the other card...

“Shall we reveal?” Blackjack says. He has a rather nasty grin on his face.

“Very well,” I say. “I don’t need another. Do you?”

“No.”

The croupier turns to Blackjack first. “Position 1, reveal your cards.”

Blackjack turns his over. He’s got a pair of fours, making a natural eight.

But his mouth drops again when I reveal mine: a five and a four in spades.

“Natural nine to the dealer,” the croupier says. “Natural eight to position 1. Dealer wins.”

Blackjack tosses eight chips out on the table. “What say we play some poker?” he asks impatiently as the croupier slides the sixteen chips over to me. “I dare say we’ve broken in the new felt by now.”

“Certainly,” Ace says. He’s still smirking.

I collect my chips and follow the others. Ace draws back behind Blackjack just a little bit and pats me on the back.

“Good show,” he whispers to me with a wink, and suddenly I’m aware of how exactly the two and the four got switched.

Author's Note

call = matching the currently established bet

Also, apologies if I butchered some of the chemin-de-fer baccarat for any of you card game enthusiasts.

Raise - An Offer He Can't Refuse

I began to question just how worth it my winnings were.

Blackjack walks through the casino with a much different look and mood around him than he had before. Every step is a hard, resounding thump against the floor that’s only barely muffled by the carpet. His eyes are still a bright red and there’s no longer the friendly gaze; his smile is more a grimace that’s barely sticking onto his face. As opposed to before when he was making polite conversation almost constantly, he’s walking straight ahead and never letting Ace fully catch up to him. We get to the cashier and all end up drawing out another 500 bits just so we’re not running out of money too early.

As we approach the poker tables, I rush up to Ace and hand him six chips.

“I don’t want it,” he tells me quietly, pushing my hand away.

“Take it,” I say, pushing it back towards him. “He could bet big. And anyways; I’m still 250 bits up.”

Ace closes his hand around the chips and smiles. “Gonna try again? It seems luck is on your side tonight.”

“I don’t get why it wasn’t earlier.”

He leans so close I think he’s gonna kiss me, but right before he can he moves and I can feel his hot breath on my ear. “So you could be mine,” he says sultrily. And then, just so I both get the point and aren’t left hanging, he plants one on my cheek.

Blackjack has approached the dealer of an empty table by now and is explaining our rules. “Four for Canterlot Hold ‘Em. Small blind of 25, large blind of 50.”

“Yes, sir,” the dealer says.

We all pick positions. We all sit approximately one seat away from the others just to make it fair, though Blackjack picks a spot where he can easily watch me and Ace and while I can’t see him I feel Untakhan’s presence behind me. I’m suspecting he thinks – no, knows I cheated, that I couldn’t have pulled out a natural nine to beat his natural eight in so short a game without help at those odds.

Even so, it’s a wonder he doesn’t simply have me arrested. I’ve heard of it happening before in Las Pegasus; ponies who get charged with fraud and end up paying fines and kicked out of a casino for cheating. But he never says a word even to the multiple security guards around the establishment.

“Everyone familiar with the rules of Canterlot Hold ‘Em?” the dealer asks.

“Yes, yes,” Blackjack says almost as soon as he finishes. He waves his hands at the dealer. “Get on with it, already.”

“Right sir.” He passes the white dealer’s button to Blackjack before looking to Roseluck and Ace. “Madam pays the small blind, sir will pay the large blind.”

Roseluck deposits a single chip on the table and Ace deposits two. Already the stakes are grim; if none of us go on, Ace has already lost fifty bits. It’s clear at the shift to poker that Blackjack intends to make us lose.

The dealer passes out a card to each of us before making the rounds again so that each of us has two. I look at my two cards – a two and a seven – and throw them in for a fold. I know at least some of the rules of poker and know there’s not much I can do. At least I’m not losing any money.

Blackjack’s up next. He looks at his cards and raises a single eyebrow for a moment before slowly lowering it back down. He’s silent for a few moments before he attains an impassive look and places four chips down on the table.

Roseluck immediately folds without a second decision.

Ace looks at his cards and leans back in his chair, arm on the metal rod that holds a drink holder and an ashtray. He sits, thinking about it a little longer. His hand goes up to his cheek and he leans on it, tapping one of his cards with the middle finger of the other hand. He looks at his cards again and lays them flat on the table. A few moments later, two more chips join in.

With all the bets collected, nine chips lay in the center of the table. In almost total silence, the dealer discards a single card face down before laying three more face up. These are a four, a nine, and a king. It’s strange how silent the game is already, whereas with baccarat there was at least gentle ribbing and light discussion.

But I can see the mad but composed look on Blackjack’s face, and the slightest hint of determination in Ace’s eye. To others it might look impassive, but his ice-blue eyes look almost white and the edges of his brow are furrowed ever so slightly. It’s a look I’ve seen many times in the hours and minutes before a show starts. I’m sure he’s noticed Blackjack’s sudden change in demeanor, but he’s not showing it.

He doesn’t do anything for a moment once the three cards have been placed down. He simply taps the green felt of the table twice before pulling his hand back in.

Blackjack, however, is feeling lucky. Another six chips go into the pile.

Ace looks at his hand again. He deliberates for a moment before placing six chips of his own.

Another discard, another card added. This time, it’s a seven. Roseluck gives a slight disappointed snap of her fingers. Blackjack looks impatiently at his cards even though it’s not quite his turn yet. His mouth screws up ever so slightly at the end.

Ace’s eyes shift up to Blackjack for a second, watching this little maneuver. He places another two chips on the table and gives Blackjack a smirk.

Blackjack is fuming and almost throws his two chips in. It’s almost comical, watching the whole exchange play out like this. But because he’s not lightly chatting over it like he’s done everything else, I’m almost terrified.

The dealer discards and places down another card: the ace of spades.

Ace looks at his cards and places them on the table so that they make a small vee. He takes his middle finger once again and taps the top card once… twice… thrice. The card jumps ever so slightly, but with a fourth tap it brings it back to stillness. He sits for a moment longer before placing six chips down in the shape of a C before fixing Blackjack with a hard glare.

Blackjack for the first time the entire games gives Ace a smirk. It’s not long before he’s thrown out six chips of his own. It’s time for the reveal and there’s almost a thousand bits on the line between the two.

“Alright, gentlemen,” the dealer says, breaking the silence of the game. “Show your cards. Dealer first.”

Blackjack takes up his cards and throws them face up on the table. He’s got a pair of kings, making him have a three of a kind with the king already out on the table. “Going to show me your cards like a stallion or are you going to walk out like a mare?” he asks, voice dripping with sheer malice.

“The fact that you need to reaffirm yourself as a stallion makes me wonder if you are one,” Ace says evenly. “Caramel here can attest on my part should you really wish to know.”

“Oh, quit with the riddles and innuendo and flip your Celestia-damned cards already!” Blackjack says forcefully.

Ace shrugs and calmly flips his cards over one by one. The first to come down is the ace of diamonds, and the next is the ace of hearts.

“Aces higher than kings,” the dealer says impassively. “Aces win.”

Ace collects the 37 chips from the center of the table and the white dealer’s button is passed to Roseluck. Ace pays out his single chip and I pay in two chips and the game begins anew.

I’m fairing a little better this time. I’ve got pocket 6’s. It’s not much at the beginning, but it’s a start. Blackjack pays 2 chips to continue playing. Roseluck adds in two herself. Ace adds in one and raises one more, and everyone goes around adding a third chip into the piles. The dealer collects the chips in the center, discards a card, and places three cards face up in the center of the table.

The cards come down as 8, 9, and Jack, bidding starting with Ace. If anyone has a straight, it’s practically there. Ace looks at his cards and thinks, tapping his cards with his middle finger. He does so four times before tapping twice in quick succession on the green felt and retracting his hand.

I can’t do anything, so I mimic Ace. Blackjack screws up his face again, but does nothing for a long while. He places a single chip in order to add in. Roseluck also adds in a chip before the dealer places down the fourth card, another Jack.

Ace is looking at his cards when I see the face of Fine Print, the first time since his appearance at the performance over a week ago. He’s still as twitchy as ever but has grown a mustache and slight beard, which only serves to make his perpetual smirk a little more noticeable and doesn’t hide any of his scars. He approaches Blackjack and whispers something, and Blackjack turns to whisper back once he’s done.

Ace taps for a check and the play turns to me. I’m doing no better, so I tap for a check again and it goes to Blackjack. Play’s not doing any better for him so he taps before going back to whispering with Fine Print. Once or twice, they motion in the direction of Ace, and once they even point in my direction. Finally, when Roseluck taps out herself and the dealer places a fifth card, Fine Print has finished and leaves into the casino’s smoke and tinted lights.

The fifth card is a king.

Untakhan, who has a surprising ability of not needing to move for quite a long period of time, finally leaves his position by us to go over by Blackjack. Both him and Blackjack are staring intently at Ace, who has gone back to tapping his cards.

One… two… three…

The card jumps almost imperceptibly before Ace brings it back to stillness on the fourth tap. Untakhan’s eyes widen and Blackjack for a moment merely raises a single eyebrow. It slowly lowers as his mouth curls upwards on either side. Soon he’s baring teeth and by the time that Ace has placed four chips into the center of the table he’s laughing.

I almost immediately fold. Blackjack doesn’t stop laughing as he pays four chips in and Roseluck almost immediately throws her cards in to fold. But something’s wrong; Blackjack’s laughing almost hysterically and the sight almost seems unusual to Ace, who is tensing the muscles in his arms as though ready to push himself away from the table and his eyes are fixed on Blackjack.

“Shall we reveal?” Blackjack says, calming down yet still on the verge of laughing.

“I don’t see what you’re waiting for,” Ace replies guardedly.

“I don’t think there’s any real reason to be nervous about this,” Blackjack says, “considering I’m sure you’re hiding something under there. I would have been content to just stand aside, but you… amuse me.”

Ace slowly reveals his cards. His first card is a Jack. Unimpressive since it’s less than what he had previously, but his second card turns over a king, giving him a full house. Blackjack laughs some more, casually throwing his cards on the table. He’s got a 10 and a Queen of different suits, giving him a straight.

Twenty chips go over to Ace; he’s practically doubled his money over these two games with the extra 400 bits he’s won this game. Blackjack gets up and his polite smile returns, though it’s a bit more toothy than he’s given us before.

“Shall we play some more or cash in?”

Ace looks over to me. “Cash in. We have other things to take care of this week.”

Blackjack nods. “Shall we?”

We make our way over to the cashier and Ace beckons me to go first. He seems on-edge, so I do so without him needing to say anything. I’ve increased my bank by 300 bits and Ace by nearly 700 bits of the other’s money, primarily Blackjack’s. I deposit the bits into my back account at the cashier as well, and move so that Ace can do his own business.

Ace makes the same transactions I do but slower and more deliberate. He’s not gloating about his winnings; it was likely that on any normal day at least fifteen ponies leave with over 1000 bits more in their pockets, but this is small compared to the other winnings of the machines and tables and the amount it takes in through the same. No, Ace was not gloating. For only the second time in his life, Ace was looking scared.

When Ace finishes, he turns to me. “Come on, Caramel,” he says. “We’re going back to the hotel.”

A firm grip grasps my shoulder before Untakhan grabs Ace’s shoulder. Blackjack is slowly shaking his head.

“No, not yet,” he says. “I have… something I want to talk with you about.”

Almost immediately after he finishes, he turns around with Fine Print, and Untakhan begins shoving us out of the casino. We’re pushed and pulled out of the casino and into the main lobby. Before anyone notices, Blackjack, Fine Print, Untakhan, Ace, and I get dragged into an open elevator. Blackjack presses the button for the top floor.

Roseluck is running after us. She sees us in the elevator and starts running. She manages to get her hand in the door, but Fine Print smacks it and causes her to retract her arm. The door closes fully as Roseluck is shouting but I can’t understand what she’s saying.

The elevator ride is quiet and fast. We go flying up to the top floor and the doors open to a long hall. On either side of us are doors, likely to the suites, but at the far end is a door with a large gold plaque. Untakhan follows Blackjack and Fine Print as he shoves me and Ace out of the elevator and over to the door. I don’t have time to read the words before the door opens and I’m shoved inside.

“Take care of the mare,” Blackjack says to Untakhan. “If she has to, take her to lie down in my suite.”

Untakhan nods before finally releasing me and Ace and leaving. As he goes, Fine Print goes and locks the door behind him.

Only now do I have a good look of the room. At the far end is a large window looking out over Baltimare’s Historic District. Next is a large, ornate wooden desk and chair that seem to have gold inlays. Two more chairs are nearby, not as ornate but made of the same wood and covered with velvet on the seats. The carpet is a deep, dark red and the bookshelves are filled with alternating red, black, and white books.

“Take a seat,” Blackjack says politely.

Ace goes and sits down immediately, likely due to his leg still in a brace. I’m frozen until Ace says “Caramel, sit.”

Once we’re sitting, Blackjack goes around to the side of the desk between the window and the roof. He lights a cigarette and inhales deeply for a minute before exhaling a large cloud of smoke. He smiles and points to the window.

“Bulletproof glass,” he says. “Took them ten years to develop it and perfect the formula. Ten years too long, if you ask me; required an increase of 400 deaths per year since the introduction of the .22 caliber bullet to Equestrian technology.”

I wonder why he’s telling us that, since he’s saying it in too casual a tone to make me believe that’s the reason he shoved us in here.

Blackjack takes another long puff of his cigarette. “How did you do it, Ace?”

“How did I do what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Blackjack says, but he’s smiling. “It was a brilliant stroke. First with Caramel’s natural nine at the baccarat table, then with the three of a kind and a full house at the poker tables. If anyone didn’t know any better, they’d say you either counted cards or you had an extreme run of luck.”

Ace shrugs. “Sometimes the cards go that way.”

“Not to the capacity that these ones did. And let me remind you that a normal set of playing cards does not jump when one taps them.”

Ace nods. “Alright. Do you want the thousand bits back, my seven hundred and Caramel’s three hundred, and just call it even?”

Blackjack shakes his head. “Your skills are much too valuable to use them cheating at cards. If you would like, I could give you a few more… profitable veins for your talents. Even more than the shows you currently perform.”

Ace is looking hard at Blackjack and trying not to show any emotion.

“I’ll be quite frank with you,” Blackjack continues. “The casino and the restaurants are quite a large business. But I have a little bit more than that on my side. I collect money from illicit drugs, underground fighting, illegal gambling and fixing of outcomes, serviceable mares, gem smuggling, and fraudulent insurance policies, of which Fine Print does a fair amount of. And yet, despite my widespread range of these activities, not a single policepony shows up at my doorstep. At the rate I’ve been going lately, I in all likelihood should have had the Solar Guard Captain Shining Armor himself show up, yet he hasn’t. Do you know why?”

Ace says nothing.

“It is because I have so much money in my pocket that I can pay off the entire police force of Baltimare to look the other way.”

“So that’s how you got enough money to pay for that villa. Your tastes were too expensive even for that pricing, not to mention the amount you must have paid for it simply to be a summer house.”

“Indeed.” Blackjack’s smile vanishes. “But I’ve begun to fall under suspicion lately. I’ve had some of my employees get caught doing these practices. I own the largest drug ring in Canterlot, but someone went poking his horn around and suddenly I’m down fifteen men and background checks say they were all employed at one of my hotels or restaurants.”

“Sounds like a bad coincidence.”

“Very much so. But I can’t afford to have any more ‘bad coincidences’. Therefore, my offer comes around.”

“I don’t see how this ties in to my magic.”

“Oh, it will,” Blackjack says, a smirk forming on his face. He snuffs his cigarette in an ashtray and leans it against the side, which creates what feels like a worse smell in the room than his smoking did. “Because while your tricks with cards are valuable, you have a different talent.”

“Which is that?”

“Your hypnotism.”

“Certainly is a talent, but only on a small scale.”

“No?” Blackjack points to me and I find my heart skipping a beat out of fear as he jabs his finger towards me. “What about him?” he growls. “Your friend, Caramel? Don’t be silly with me, Ace; I’m fully aware of the fact that you’ve placed triggers on him. You’ve used them on him since our meeting at Janus’ theater, and I’m guessing longer.”

“Why are you not bringing this up with Untakhan?”

There’s a single, loud slam of the door. Everyone jumps except for Blackjack, who seems rather unperturbed and is back to smiling.

“Because he’s a bit of a freak of nature,” Blackjack says. “Powerful, but too exotic. No; it defies his tenants. He wouldn’t even do it of his own accord on the account that his, in that setting, breaks them.”

“What are you planning on having me do?”

“Simple enough,” Fine Print spoke. “I would create a stage show. Hottest billing in town. Everyone would come. Town down your language and sarcasm a bit so even the foals could enjoy it. Your talents and fascinating reputation are widespread enough that with the proper funding and advertisement you’d have a full house every night of this tour.”

“But where does the hypnotism come into play?”

“We would need you to do it en masse,” Fine Print continues. “Blackjack wants you to place everyone in a trance. Within a few weeks, the entirety of Baltimare wouldn’t even know he exists so far as the proprietor of Blackjack’s 21 Casino, a respectable business that follows the law, pays its taxes to Celestia, and provides a range of entertainment for all ages.”

“If I accept?”

“We’re talking fifteen hundred bits per week,” Fine Print replies. You do shows at theaters across Equestria, take a break if you need to, and return without a single missing week of payment. You’d work on your own time. I would be able to accommodate you anywhere. And, as an extra bit of service, I could pay you an extra three hundred bits if you do private sessions.”

“So, you’d also put me into prostitution?”

“No sex. Let me say that straight out; no sex. Unless, of course, you’d wish to.”

“So… more hypnosis?”

“Exactly. Smaller sessions where no one would expect the level we’d be paying you for.”

Ace says nothing.

“You know what?” Blackjack says politely, as though he’s actually concerned. “I know it’s a lot to digest and consider. So, I think I’ll call you in a week and send a cab around to bring you back here. That sound good?”

“I have no choice. I leave for Canterlot next week.”

Blackjack nods. “Very well,” he says quietly. “I’ll let you go to think about it.” He nods again to Fine Print, who goes and unlocks the door.

Outside, Untakhan is lying dazed on the floor with a rather large bump on his head. A rose-maned mare is running away and turns a corner before any of us can actually do anything. Fine Print immediately goes over to Untakhan, picked him up, and drags him inside. Blackjack watches for a moment as Fine Print dabs Untakhan’s head with a cloth, trying to wake him up, before turning to us.

“I trust you can find your own way out,” Blackjack says. He looks at each of us in turn. “Good night.” And he goes back inside the office and closes the door.

Ace doesn’t say a word before he goes off to the elevator. I stand there stupidly for a moment before running after him. Roseluck is nowhere in sight as we get into the elevator, and doesn’t show up downstairs in the lobby either. Ace picks up a cab outside the casino and tells the driver to take us back to our hotel.

“Ace… are you okay?”

Ace doesn’t respond. He’s looking ahead with a kind of glazed look on his face, as though he’s thinking deeply.

“Ace… please, talk to me. What are you thinking?”

I’m kind of surprised that this is the first thing I’m concerned about, not that Ace had been invited to join in a rather large criminal organization. But part of me thinks that Ace wouldn’t actually join in with them. He got the offer, sure, but I don’t think he’d actually do it. But Ace isn’t telling me; he simply stares ahead of him as we drive back to the hotel and never responds to me.

He walks quickly and quietly up the stairs to the room and goes to sit with a whiskey on the patio. He’s standing there for a long while even with his busted leg, so I go to the kitchen and make him a sandwich, salad, chips, and set him up with a large glass of water. By the time I get out to the patio he looks faint and doesn’t argue as I lead him inside to eat. I don’t bother to speak to him until he finishes and sits himself on the couch.

“Ace… please tell me you’re not going to actually do that.”

“Do you think me mad?” Ace replies, his voice quiet. “No. It’s… it’s wrong. I don’t use my hypnotism that way. I use it… I use it for entertainment. I don’t necessarily believe it should be used for control.”

One of Blackjack’s comments begins to bother me. “Then… what about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is your hypnotism on me for? For the most part, all you do with it is tell me commands during the show setup. Only recently have we been going out and doing things with each other that are just fun and getting to know each other and you don’t use it there.”

Ace opens his mouth to rebuke, but falls quiet.

“I just want to know what you want out of me, Ace.”

“…I don’t want to lose you.”

Ace’s eyes are shimmering. He’s on the verge of crying again. I don’t know why, but this is the first time I ever feel hardened to one of his depressive moods. I’m more questioning it than anything. Something’s bothering him, but I’m kind of able to shut it out to focus on what’s bothering me.

“So you resort to hypnotic control and triggers for that? Isn’t that what Blackjack wants you to do but on a larger scale? I mean, pretty much my entire existence at the moment has been to help you out and care for you when I’m under trance.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Hurt?” He’s angering me; I can tell by the firmness and growling in my voice. “You took me away from my home, Ace! You took me away from my family and friends! I’ve been traveling with you for a year and haven’t seen a lick of home since! And I’m not entirely questioning why I haven’t been feeling homesick, because I’m pretty sure I know the reason why.”

Ace looks at me. In the past his crying would have done something to me, made me want to care for him and comfort him. Tonight, I feel nothing.

“Please, Caramel, just…”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” I’m surprised I interrupted him before he could get the command out. It’s affecting me still – I can feel my focus train on him even more than usual as though expectantly waiting – but I continue. “I don’t want to have any commands used on me until I get some answers!”

Ace looks at me for a second, then drops his head. “…in some respects, I have none to give. I saw you at my show, I had you come on stage, and when I saw you I decided I wanted you.”

“But why? Why not someone else?”

“…because I figured you would be suggestible enough.”

I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “And what difference is that from what Blackjack wants you to do?”

“Caramel, think about your life. What have I done for you that’s changed?”

“You’ve taken me away from my home and my family. I wouldn’t be surprised if I went home and they thought I was dead because I haven’t seen them for a year. And why? Because you’ve been putting me into a trance every week for a year so that I would forget them and focus on you! Do you have any idea how utterly selfish that is!?”

“I have been asking you if you want to go back!”

“But I’m too deep in your trance to say that I do!”

“Caramel, be honest with me: if I gave you the chance right now, would you go back to Ponyville willingly?”

“No!” The word shocks me. “I mean, I would not… I can’t even believe… why must you… see what you’ve done!?”

“Caramel, be honest with me again: why wouldn’t you want to go back?”

“Because I care for you and see you as a friend and I want us to get closer… you see what’s going on!? I’ve got that Stockholm Syndrome! I’ve been around you long enough that I don’t want to leave!”

I grab Ace’s collar with both hands and lift him up slightly; the months I’ve spent working backstage have given me muscle, so when Ace pulls up his own hands to take mine off him, he can’t find the strength to do so. “Take me out! Break me out of your trance!”

“I can’t!” Ace whines. He finally breaks down sobbing. “I can’t do it!”

“Why not!? You put me into it, now take me out!”

“I have put you under my trance for nearly 45 weeks now, Caramel,” he says through sobs. “Even if I tried, that’d still be more time you’ve spent around me, and more time I’d have to spend drilling the reverse and clearing the old stuff out! Might not be another 45 weeks, but it certainly can’t be done easily.”

And then he can say no more. His eyes are red and they close and all he can do is sob. He can’t even issue me a command anymore because he can’t form any words. I drop him and he almost immediately falls backwards onto the couch, wrapping himself up in a ball and crying louder and louder.

And then I can’t stand to see him crying anymore. But I don’t do anything about him. I merely leave the room and begin to fill the bathtub for a soak. I don’t want to hurt him physically, but I have a feeling like something’s been lifted from me. It’s not entirely satisfying, especially not when I can still hear Ace crying like a foal through two closed doors, but at least I’ve heard it straight from his mouth.

When I’m done in the bathroom, I put on my pajamas and pull out an extra blanket and pillow from the bedroom closet. I come out to the living room and pick up Ace, no longer sobbing but still sniffing, and get him into the bedroom. Once I’ve gotten him in bed and given him a glass of water, I turn to leave.

“Caramel, please…” Ace chokes out as though he’s not done crying. “Please, lay—”

“No, Ace,” I say. I can feel the tug that compels me to go over to him, already knowing what the rest of the command is and just waiting for him to finish it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. I pick up the blanket and pillow and head towards the door. “Not tonight.” I close the door before he can respond.

I take my pillow and blanket and set myself up on the couch. It’s comfortable but hot and by the time an hour has passed, I’m merely laying on the couch in shorts with the patio door open. The moon is shining down and I’m trying to shut out Ace’s sniffling and mumbling that I’m thankful I can’t hear through the door.

I’m twisting and turning, trying to go to sleep, when a thought hits me. What attracted me to him in the first place? Sure, physically, he’s handsome and definitely poses a striking figure, but that’s just the surface. I’ve known Ace for almost a year, and even then I can’t say that; I’ve been acquainted with him for over a year, but I haven’t really started to know him until maybe a week or two ago. And how did we meet? By him manipulating me into coming around to his place so that he could hypnotize me deeper.

Ace is one hell of a fucking bastard.

The next morning, I’m wondering how I managed to go to sleep the last night when I’d been so angry with Ace. I still am, but normally one does not get riled up and somehow manage to fall asleep. I’m still on the couch in the position I last remembered myself in.

Ace is up, too. He’s stirring around the kitchen, fiddling with something. I get up and close the door to the bedroom for a minute, changing my clothes. By the time I get out, Ace is at the table with two plates of food; breakfast is served. He’s not happy, which is good, but something tells me that he thinks he can get away with apologizing.

I stand in the doorway for a while.

“I made breakfast,” Ace says. His voice is sore, hoarse, and broken and there are clear bags under his eyes. I wonder how long he was up for last night.

“I can see that,” I say simply.

“…could you join me?” he asks.

“I’d rather not,” I tell him.

“Caramel, please, sit down with me.” He’s getting faster at getting these out, which is bad. I go and sit down with him, but don’t touch the food

“Please, Caramel, eat.”

I almost do. I have a forkful of egg up to my mouth when I stop. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but I still feel the pull of his command. He’s hardly touched his own plate and seems to be waiting for me to do something first.

The fork still at my mouth, I look over to Ace. “How much have you thought about this?”

“A lot,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not a lot to say for someone you essentially kidnapped,” I say. I try moving my hand down, but it’s frozen in place.

He nods. “It was stupid and impulsive.”

“You’re a right fucking bastard for doing that, you know.”

“Yeah.” He sniffs again. “If you were to act without restraint, what would you do?”

“Punch you, walk out the door, and leave.”

Ace chuckles. It’s still not happy, more nostalgic, like an old joke that’s been told so many times only he remembers why it’s funny. “That’s what you said the first time. And you didn’t leave.”

“I’d probably do it this time, though.” The fork wiggles, but doesn’t move in either direction very far. “What did you do last night?”

“I commanded you to sleep,” he tells me. “You were too preoccupied with your thoughts. I thought… I thought it might help you to…”

“Relax?” I finished. “Calm down? Forget about it?”

Ace nods.

“Well, it failed.”

Ace shrugs weakly. “No surprise. I didn’t tell you to do the others.”

“Well, that’s a step. You’re actually letting me think for myself.”

Ace sighs. “Caramel… what are your plans from here.”

“I’ll join you for the Canterlot shows,” I tell him. “I’ll finish my duties. Then, when we’re done, I’m taking the first train to Ponyville… back home.”

Ace closes his eyes. For a long time, he’s completely still. Then he nods. “Alright,” he says, weaker and even more broken. “When we’re done, I’ll pay for your ticket and—”

“No,” I say. “I can’t have you paying for it and have that be the last thing I remember about you.”

Ace looks like he’s been punched in the gut. He flinches and turns away from me. “Al-alright. I… I’m sorry, C-Caramel. I just c-can’t…” He can’t say anymore; he gets up and runs off as fast as he can with his brace towards the bedroom.

When he’s gone, the first thing I end up doing is eating the bite of egg on the fork.

* * *

I don’t talk to Ace through the rest of the week. I make my own meals and refuse to lay with Ace, sometimes even refusing to accept things he does for me like make breakfast or dinner or share in a bottle of wine or go out somewhere like the harbor market; he goes on his own and I go on my own because I don’t want to be in the same room as him for very long, not with the pleading eyes and posture that is literally being thrown at my hooves, begging for attention.

Even when his voice comes back, it’s mostly to plead with me to forgive him. I can’t; it’s also found to be the one thing that doesn’t work with the trigger, as even other things still do like Ace hugging and kissing me, incidents that usually end with me shoving him out of my face and locking myself up in another room so he can’t touch me.

I’m still mad at Ace on Sunday, when he’s doing his performance. While from my point of view there is a certain lackluster performance – he’s not as theatrical as he usually is – he still manages to keep the audience’s attention. His brace is off, though, and he still manages to command the stage with grace and charisma.

It’s about the end of the show, and Ace is preparing for a trick I’d once asked him to do. I both hate him for it and yet can’t help but admire it. It’s the one where he takes the replica and tears it up before restoring it. He’s got another full house, partially due to it being his last show and partially because he gained an interesting increase in popularity due to the trick. The gilded frame comes out with the picture and a small curtain on a bar above it and Ace takes the time to pull a small blade like a knife out from his hat; Lens Flare positions the equipment in just the right way to make the lights shine on the blade and give it a faint shimmer.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” Ace says in his loud stage voice. “In this frame is the Master Stroke’s famous work, the Mona Lisa. It has been a treasure of Baltimare’s Historic District Art Museum, is regarded as one of the greatest paintings to have ever existed, and it has a smudge of mustard on it. Right there, probably from some careless bastard who wasn’t careful with his carrot dog.” Ace points to a small, dried, brown spot on the replica’s surface. It really is mustard, put on there and left to dry the day after Ace purchased it, when I wasn’t questioning his motives. I kind of miss that, to be honest.

The audience gives out a bit of restrained laughter, as expected.

“Normally, this calls for a bit of restoration. This is usually done by a team of professionals who thoroughly clean and return the painting to its former with special cleaning materials and chemicals. However, with me in town, they decided to do it in a way that was faster and cheaper than normal.”

Ace takes the knife and fingers it a bit amidst light laughter. “Of course, me being a magician, I don’t like using the normal ways of materials and cleaning supplies. All I have are my hat and this rather sharp knife. So, I’m just going to make a little incision like this” – he stabs the painting with the knife rather forcefully, causing some of the audience members to gasp – “and cut the damn thing out.”

Ace makes deliberate strokes with the knife, careful to go all around the edge of the gilded frame. The audience is murmuring to themselves as Ace removes the painting from the frame and holds it out.

“Well, that’s step one complete. Now, on to my next step. You see, paintings like this masterpiece require delicate and precise handling” – at which point he immediately begins ripping the painting to shreds. “There, of course, is oil on the body which must not touch the surface, bacteria from the hooves that could ruin the paint, and thus requires a long decontamination process before even touching the required materials. I don’t take stock in them because, well, my way is faster.”

The audience is laughing, if only because there actually is someone from the local museum here tonight – the curator is in the audience and is quite aware it’s a replica.

With the painting ripped to shreds, Ace places them all inside his hat. “So, now that that’s all done, it’s time for the actual restoration to begin. See, the actual process takes about a few hours, but all I have to do is give the painting a few shakes of my hat” – which he does – “and voila!”

Ace turns the hat upside down, only to have all the ripped pieces just go fluttering out onto his usual table. The camera’s not on it so nothing’s shown, and Ace soon tries scooping them all into a little pile, muttering obscenities as the ponies watch and laugh.

“Well, shit,” Ace says. “Oh, Celestia, what am I going to do?” He shrugs as though resigned. “Well, I guess there’s nothing left to do except mourn the passing of a great masterwork.” He takes his hat and places it over his heart as Soundwave cues up a piece of mournful music and the curtain falls solemnly over the empty gilded frame.

“I’m sorry, fillies and gentlecolts,” Ace says quite soberly. “I… I shall have to have a talk with the curator back stage. I mean, I know I ruined a work of art, but… it’s priceless. I’m sure I can find a way to pay for it, but—”

Click. A piece of the curtain has fallen off its rung. Ace looks behind him at the exposed corner of the gold frame and panics.

“No, no no no NO!” he shouts. He runs over and grabs and the audience is suddenly laughing again. “I can’t let them see it like this! No, not the tattered remains!”

Click, click. A second rung falls off, but Ace is keeping it suspended upright. He starts muttering what appears to be more obscenities to the audience, now laughing uproariously at his “plight”

“What happened, Caramel, that was one more click than there was supposed to be,” Ace growls into the hidden headset. He’s not angry, he’s neutral, but the show requires he sound pissed.

“Not sure,” I tell him, also neutral. “Keep an eye out on the bar. I’ll check backstage”

Click. A third rung falls off. Ace looks at the bar expectantly, though the audience thinks it’s more of the usual.

“Backstage, something go wrong?”

“No,” one of the attendants tells me. “Three released as planned. Planning to trip rest of them in fifteen seconds. Not sure where extra click came from.”

“Alright. Keep watch; I’ll relay the information to Janus.”

Fifteen… fourteen… thirteen… someone’s concealing something in one of the balconies.

Twelve… eleven… ten… I recognize the face of Fine Print in the audience, passing something to a partner of his.

Nine… eight… seven… “Janus, we have an extra click.”

Six… five… four… “Heard it. Can’t tell from where.”

Three… two… one…

Click… BANG!

Without warning, the bar falls with the curtain in a massive clang right on top of Ace. Ace just manages to put his hands up and lean forward just enough that it catches his back after it drops only about a foot, but he goes down with the curtains and the bar and the “restored” painting is revealed.

“Ace,” I call into the mic as the audience begins a standing ovation. “Ace, are you okay?”

Silence.

“Ace, please answer me. Are you okay?”

Still nothing.

“Celestia-damn it all, Ace!” I’m shouting desperately. “Answer me, please!”

“…you were worried about me,” Ace says playfully.

“Shit, Ace! Get up and continue the show! We’ll talk about me being worried later!”

“Calling paramedics,” Janus says. “Be here by end of show. Finish up and get out.”

“Right.”

Ace manages to throw the curtain off and look up at the painting. He turns back to the audience with a sly smile that tells them he planned it all along. “It worked.”

The audience is responding with a mixture of whoops and laughter.

A few minutes later, the audience has been bid good night and is leaving the theater. I leave Camera Eye and Soundwave to finish up and immediately rush backstage to see a few paramedics attending to Ace and checking his vitals. Ace looks over to me as I approach.

“You got worried,” he says in a sort of sing-song voice.

“Damn it all, Ace!” I growl. “What happened?”

“The bar fell on me,” Ace says seriously. “I was dazed, but not knocked out. Paramedics say I’m good; the curtain cushioned my fall and prevented me from taking more serious damage. Expected to hurt for a while, though.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t higher up.” Janus steps into the room as the paramedics leave. “I’ve found the culprit.”

“What was it? Faulty spring? Loose wire?”

Janus holds up a small cylindrical piece of metal, about a few millimeters long and a few millimeters wide. The top looks like something exploded inside of it, and when it’s placed in my hand it’s warm to the touch.

“A bullet,” Janus says. “Might have hit the chains supporting the curtain bar. This looks like a Colt .25 ACP. Would have caused serious damage had it actually hit anyone, but I found it rolling around backstage.”

“You mean someone tried to assassinate me?”

“No. They broke my hook. Might have tried to pin it as an accident. Caramel, did you see anyone weird in the audience?”

“Well, I saw Fine Print at one point a few seconds before. He was there with someone I didn’t recognize and not with Blackjack like normal. He passed something inside his jacket on to someone.”

Janus nods and takes the fired bullet from me. “I’d recommend you clear out tomorrow if at all possible. Get your things; my assistants have been placing them back as you’ve had them in the boxes. Pack up and get out before anything worse happens.”

“What’s going on?”

Janus sighs. “I’m afraid I can’t say anything more. But it’s best if you don’t come back to Baltimare for a while.”

“Does this have something to do with Blackjack?” I ask.

“…so you know.” Janus nods. “I’d wager you pissed him off.”

“How much do you know about him?”

“I used to be one of his men,” Janus tells me. “I backed off when I heard about his more illicit activities. But now, in order to keep myself afloat, I have to pay twenty percent of the profit of my theater to him. Can’t prosecute him or his subordinates; he’s got the Baltimare Police Department wrapped around his hooves. You’re best off leaving while you still have your wits about you.”

Janus goes over to Ace and hugs him. “Be safe, old friend.”

Ace hugs Janus back. “Hopefully they don’t bother you anymore.” And he kisses Janus on the cheek.

We’re out of the theater within half an hour. Ace and I are running through the streets and getting ready to pack up back at the hotel. We only have a few last-minute things, but, as Ace is explaining to me, it’s not quick enough.

“Caramel, I need you to trust me,” he says. “We’ve got to get ourselves ready to go as soon as we leave Blackjack’s tomorrow. We need to get to his office early, like nine o’clock. Then we need to get to the station. If Blackjack’s as pissed as Janus thinks he is, we can’t go straight to Canterlot. We need to buy two tickets each; one straight for Canterlot, and another for Canterlot via Dodge Junction.”

“And what’ll that do?”

“If we’re lucky, they try to find us on the Canterlot train like I normally do and we hide via Dodge Junction. It’ll at least throw them off our trail until we get to somewhere we can hide via better protection, like the Solar Guard.”

“And they’ll listen?”

“To money. I’ve got enough I can feed them a few hundred bucks and they’ll keep an ear and nose out for Blackjack.”

We’re back at the hotel in half our usual time. As soon as we enter, Ace double locks and shuts the door to the patio before noticing a blinking light on the telephone. Ace presses the speaker button.

“You have one new message. To listen to the message, press 1.”

Ace taps the button.

Blackjack’s voice is a low, menacing baritone. “If you do not cooperate, next time my assistant will not miss. I’ll be in my office at nine thirty tomorrow morning. Come whenever you have made your decision.” There’s a click and the room goes completely silent.

“I don’t think you can go back to Ponyville quite yet,” Ace tells me. “Not if they think you’ll tell.”

I feel worse now than I did before at Ace. But this isn’t Ace’s fault.

The phone rings again before I can think much further. It rings a few times, and both of us are too scared and frozen in place to pick it up. It rings five times before the computerized voice fills the room.

“No one is available to take your call. Please leave your message after the tone.”

BEEP.

“Caramel, it’s Roseluck. Look, I heard the whole conversation with Blackjack. Please, pick me up. I can’t stay here any longer. Caramel, pick up the phone, please! I know you’re leaving soon, and I need to get out of here with you. I… I shouldn’t be doing this, but please let me meet up with you! Caramel, pick up the phone now, because I’m afraid he’s going to try and kill you!”

Flop - The Flight from Baltimare

I feel relieved when Ace taps the speaker button, as I’m too frozen to move.

“Roseluck, it’s Ace,” he says calmly. “Caramel is here with me.”

“Oh, thank Celestia!” Roseluck exclaims. “Please, you’ve got to hear me out!”

“We’re well aware,” Ace says before she can continue. “I’ve already had a metal rod dropped on my head.”

“Wait… you’re not agreeing with him, are you?” Roseluck nearly shrieks

“You’re the second pony this week who thinks me mad,” Ace says, deadpan.

“Oh, okay, so you’re not.” She gives a quick, relieved sigh. “Um… look, I can get out of here by nine thirty tomorrow. I’m expected to do some flower arranging. He won’t be expecting me until later.”

There’s the sound of a motor in the background. “Look, I’ve got to go now,” Roseluck says quickly. Just tell me what to do.”

“There should be an eleven-thirty train straight to Canterlot,” Ace tells her. Buy tickets for it, but don’t go on it. Then buy the eleven o’clock to Canterlot via Dodge Junction. That’s what we’ll be going on; might take us two or three days longer, but I’m trying to throw him off.”

“Thank you so much. Please wait for me, Caramel… and Ace. Thank you.”

The phone clicks off again and there’s silence.

“I don’t care what time she gets there,” Ace says. “If she doesn’t make it on time, I’m not waiting for her.”

We finish our packing and I go to lay down with Ace for the first time in a week. It’s not by command, and neither of us are actually in the mood for any intimacy. Ace is likely sweating out what’s going on tomorrow and I’m worried that I’m in as much trouble as Ace, and if Roseluck gets herself involved things could be a lot worse if Blackjack views it as betraying him.

The next morning, Ace and I wake up from an uneasy and short-lived sleep. We do simple things like brush our teeth and comb our manes and tails. We straighten our clothes so that they look neat and presentable – Ace dons his black fedora – and we assemble our baggage at the door of the suite. By nine, we’re at the door of the hotel lobby and flagging down a cab to take us downtown.

The black structure of Blackjack’s 21 Casino stands tall over the Historic District and casts a long shadow over the roads. It looks like a glimmering black crystal jutting out from the ground, and I half expect to see places where the ground has cracked from the force of it rising out of the ground. In the morning sun it looks even blacker than before, the buildings around it displaying so much light but the dark, oily black seems to absorb all color and not even the oranges and yellows of an early morning can give any light or color to it.

None of it means well to me.

We arrive at the casino at five minutes to nine thirty. Ace strides across the lobby to the elevators and jabs the button impatiently. We wait for only a minute before getting inside the elevator and Ace presses the button for the top floor. Another pony tries to get inside, but Ace shoves him out the elevator and jams the button so the door shuts.

The entire ride is taken in silence. I dare not bother Ace, as I can see him thinking. He has the look of determination on his face he had at the poker game. He’s deep in thought and even if I tried to speak with him he would act like he wouldn’t hear me. Sometimes, when he’s like this, I’m not entirely sure if he can.

The doors open. A few ponies are doing construction work in the hall trying to replace a window, and a few iron pipes almost as long as my arm lay scattered around the hallway, but Ace ignores them and moves on. We approach the gold plaque on the door and Ace raps the door with his knuckles three times. A few seconds later, there is a click from the door and Ace takes one more moment to sigh. He reaches for my hand and wraps around it.

“No worries,” he tells me quietly. “I won’t let them.”

I don’t know what he’s saying, but I can’t tell him that. Before I can think of a response, he slips his hand away from mine and opens the door. Blackjack is sitting with Fine Print, and he must compose himself. Ace and I come in and take a seat in the chairs across from Blackjack, of whom I can see nothing of in the early morning sun other than his muted red eyes and the sharp point of his unicorn horn.

“So, you’re here already,” he says impassively. “Have you made your decision?”

Ace nods slowly.

“Well, what is it?” He’s not impatient. It’s slow and controlled.

“I’ve known you for many years,” Ace says. “All that time, you’ve been a friend to me, as well as one I’ve looked up to and respected. You took me in and helped me when I was new and starting out and had nothing. You gave me shelter and a place to stay in addition to giving me a job.

“But I’m afraid I can’t take this job, Blackjack. It goes against even what you yourself had taught me. I considered you a reasonable stallion, but it seems to me that you’ve dropped reason for greed. I cannot take a job that is motivated simply by greed, nor one that is justified by flawed reasoning.”

Blackjack nods slowly. “Very well, then. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. You are free to go, but I’ll be watching you, Ace.”

Ace nods. “However, I have one more request.” It seems harder for him to get the words out, as though he’s choking on them.

Blackjack smiles piteously. “One last request for an old friend,” he says sadly. “What do you want?”

“Do not harm Caramel,” he says. He’s breaking down and sniffs a little, but he soon draws it back in. “Caramel… is nothing but a stage hand. I want him to play no part in whatever you have planned for me.”

For a long time, Blackjack does nothing. Then, he nods.

“As you say,” he says. “I will not lay a hand on Caramel.” He turns to me. “Where do you live?”

“I was going to finish up this tour with Ace,” I tell him, “and then I would return to Ponyville.”

Blackjack nods. “When your tour is over, go home to Ponyville and I and my men will not lay a finger on you. I’ll keep my word to Ace that you shall not be touched. I… understand it won’t be as exciting, but I wish you luck at home. Fine Print, take note of this in a formal, binding, legal document.”

The tan pony nods and immediately begins drawing up a form from a briefcase nearby.

“I’m afraid I have other work,” Blackjack says, “so at least you were punctual. But now, I’m afraid I must bid you good-bye.”

Ace nods and gets up from his chair. “Caramel, come on. We have to catch our train.”

I get up and follow Ace out the door. He closes it behind me and I can hear the click of the door as it locks behind us. We’re halfway down the hall when he stops.

“It’s the least I could do,” he tells me.

“You don’t mean to sacrifice yourself?” I say.

“No. I won’t go willingly. But I had dragged you too far into this already. I couldn’t leave you to suffer what they intend for me.”

I find myself throwing my arms around Ace in a hug and for a moment he’s too shocked to do anything in return. “Don’t speak like that.”

“I don’t expect you to go to the ends of the earth for me, Caramel. But I’ll do what I can to keep you safe. I don’t want you to go, but if that’s what must happen, then so be it.”

Ace continues walking to the elevator, and I follow him. He presses the button and we wait for the elevator to come.

There comes a sudden shuffling down the hall a short ways away; when we turn to look, I see the three construction ponies get up and start heading for us. One has a crowbar, the other has a wrench, and the other has a hammer. They’re all looking at us rather intently.

“Blackjack says we’re not allowed to let you leave,” the lead pony, the one with the crowbar, says. “He already gave you his last chance.”

“So soon, gentlecolts?” Ace replies. He sighs… rather more theatrically than I would have expected. “Shall I at least perform one last trick?”

The lead pony slackens his grip on the crowbar and nods.

Ace pulls off his hat and shows the inside to them. He places the hat so that the opening faces upwards and reaches his hand inside. One of the metal pipes begins to glow bright red, suddenly disappearing into nothingness, as Ace pulls a rather similar-looking pipe out of the fedora. When the entire length is withdrawn, he puts the hat back on his head and holds the pipe in both hands like a sword.

Everyone who isn’t Ace is astounded.

“Now,” Ace says, “I think the odds are a little more even. Riposte!”

With one smooth swing, Ace knocks the crowbar out of the hooves of one of the construction ponies before anyone can even respond. I go to pick it up as Ace thrusts the pipe like a rapier at the pony with the hammer.

I don’t know what exactly to do except for stand idly by. But then I see the pony with the wrench going for a hit to Ace’s head and I’m filled with anger that almost blinds me. I smack the crowbar hard into his side and the pony goes flying into the wall. I hit him again and he goes sliding backwards before crashing into a door and falling over, knocked out and with two large bumps already forming on him.

Don’t you dare mess with him, or I’ll kill you.

I turn back to the others and see the pony that used to hold the crowbar with an arm around Ace, choking him. Ace is flailing around swinging the pipe at the pony with the hammer, but he can’t reach far enough to hit him. I go over and swing the crowbar across the head of the pony who used to own it and watch as he lets Ace go. Ace turns around and swings at the pony with the hammer while I pull the crowbar up and push the other pony with it back into another door. The pony hits the door with a thud and his arms try to reach for my neck, but I go and push the pony into the door so that he falls down.

I turn around to see Ace still dealing with the pony with the hammer. The hammer is quicker than Ace’s pipe, so I thrust the crowbar in and throw it backwards, causing the pony to lose his balance. He slams into a wall and loses his grip on the hammer, and just for good measure I kick at him with one of my hooves, knocking him forward and causing him to sprawl out on the floor unmoving.

I go to help Ace with the last pony, but neither of them are moving. But Ace is looking directly into the eyes of the pony who used to hold the crowbar and a single card is gently swaying back and forth between them – notably, the ace of spades.

“That’s it,” Ace says, his low tenor whispering almost seductively into the pony’s ear. “Just follow the card and feel yourself relaxing and breathing in time with the gentle sway…”

Already the pony is becoming putty in Ace’s hooves; he’s not moving, his eyes are almost pinpricks with his entire attention on the card. His eyes do a gentle sway from left… to right… to left… to right… His breathing is in time with the card’s movements, and Ace’s words are so close that they’re all he can hear.

“That’s it, just enjoy this peaceful relaxation, enjoy this moment of bliss. You feel warm and relaxed, your body feeling heavy and limp. Let the spell and the sway of the cards relax you even further, the gentle motions adding to your peaceful state.”

I see the arms of the construction pony drop to his sides like a rag doll, and his eyes begin to droop as Ace keeps their eyes locked together. His head is completely still and unmoving as he slouches down, caught in Ace’s trance.

“You enjoy this relaxation. You enjoy following the card and begin to let go of all your stresses. All your cares. All your worries. You enjoy just relaxing and watching the ace and staring into my eyes. No need to worry about anyone or anything else right now; your eyes beginning to feel slightly heavy as you become completely relaxed all over.”

The pony droops himself down even more. I can see his legs shaking, struggling to stay upright under the relaxing effects of Ace’s trance. I almost feel like I’m entranced myself, watching the whole thing mesmerized by seeing it from another point of view off the stage… Ace’s own voice being like an addiction I just can’t break out from.

“Now, in a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers” – Ace does so, a sharp, quick sound that makes the other pony jerk slightly. – “just like that. And when you hear me snap my fingers” – Ace does it again, and but the jerk is lessened. – “you’re going to find that your eyes are locked on the card, and no matter what happens, you must follow it.

“Ready? One… two… three…”

Ace snaps his fingers once more. The card begins making longer arcs so that the pony must actually move his head, then his body to follow the card. Ace keeps swinging the card in wider and wider arcs, keeping it in the same position. I don’t know what I’m mesmerized by more; the way Ace still has the pony in trance or the way he’s swinging the card in such a way that the other pony is constantly ramming his head into the doors on either side of the hallway.

Ace finally does a final flick of the card and a snap. The card disappears from sight completely and the pony’s eyes roll up into his head and he falls limp on the floor with a bloody gash in his head.

“What the hell was that?” I almost scream.

“He’ll wake up in a few hours,” Ace says. “Not sure about his companions, but you did good with them. Come on; we need to get our stuff from the hotel and get to the train station.”

Ace drops the pipe with the others and I follow suit with the crowbar before launching ourselves to the elevator. We jam the button and feel the elevator drop down the fifteen stories to the lobby. Once we’re in the lobby, Ace and I bolt across the floor and down the street to hail the nearest cab.

“Salt and Sea Hotel and Suites,” Ace says. “As fast as you can.”

The drives steps on it and we’re back at the hotel in ten minutes via the main roadway. We jump out of the cab and run up the steps back to the hotel.

“Ten o’clock,” Ace says. “We have time. Come on; help me grab this stuff and go.”

There’s an odd crinkling sound; we turn to look and find a folded piece of paper lying on the floor. It’s slightly crumpled at one end like it was shoved underneath the door or I stepped on it as we crossed inside. Ace picks it up and places it in the pocket of his black vest.

“We’ll worry about it later,” he says. “Come on!”

I grab a trolley and we pack the stuff on it. We use the elevator to go down to the lobby, where Ace makes a quick job of paying, and we’re soon in another cab and roaring down the main road to the station.

At the station, Ace buys two sets of tickets; one for Canterlot, and one for Canterlot via Dodge Junction. We race to the loading platform for the Dodge Junction train and see a smaller, rose-red convertible being loaded onto a flatbed just behind the engine, a large black steamer with a large-sized tender.

Ace and I ignore the convertible and take our cases and drag them down to the baggage car, where we each take out one small suitcase worth of basic luggage and items and hurry down the train to the car we need. The train’s whistle sounds once and the colts loading the car get off the train. The train whistles a second time as Ace and I get our ticket stubs checked by the conductor on board and are led to our cabin. Then, there’s a third whistle, and by eleven ten the train is slowly leaving the station and heading south through Baltimare.

Our cabin is cramped. Two twin beds sit in a tiny alcove off to one side, and there’s a table for two and minimal bathroom on the other side. I hate the closeness of the compartment given that it keeps me close to Ace, but at least we won’t be in the same bed.

Yes, Ace just bargained for my life and I’m worried about what will happen to him next. I’m not exactly a heartless bastard, but I just can’t let go of what I’ve learned about Ace so far, and it makes me wonder if he’s done any other morally questionable things.

Ace seems to sense this. “Don’t worry,” he tells me. “I won’t… do anything questionable.”

I nod. Ace gets in the lower twin bed and stretches himself out on it and I shove our cases underneath it. The train takes a gentle curve to the southwest and we begin heading for Dodge Junction.

“Any other stops along the way?” I ask.

“I think we just have to get to Dodge Junction,” he says. “Might have to stop there for fuel and supplies, but otherwise I don’t think there’s any other stops between here and Canterlot.”

I look out the window at Baltimare’s Historic District flashing by. Off in the distance, Blackjack’s 21 Casino watches us leave and casts a shadow over the tracks. “Do you think Roseluck made it on?”

“I can’t say I don’t care if she did,” Ace says, “but it was up to her.”

“Do you not care for anyone else?”

“I cared for some. They’ve either turned out mad or distanced themselves from me.” He gives me an almost pitiful look like he’s including me in the latter category.

I decide to change the topic off me. “…what of Janus?”

“My own mistake.” Ace sighs. “I should have listened to him on our meeting four years ago. He could see that I was going to get myself into trouble; tried to get me out before it hurt me.” Ace sniffs and rubs his nose with a finger. “Didn’t know he was talking from experience.”

The train gives a shrill whistle and starts to pick up speed. We’re now out of the Historic District and heading across a green plain with the occasional tree popping up here and there out of the rolling hills. The cool sea weather leaves and we’re treated to an almost dry heat that forces Ace to close our cabin window and the blinds to keep it cool.

Once we’re out of sight of Baltimare, Ace gets out of the bed. “Come on,” he says. “They’ll probably serve lunch about now. Non-stop to Dodge Junction.”

I follow Ace through a few cars until we hit the dining car. It’s a small thing with a few booths on either side, mostly empty except for one or two occupied by weary-looking ponies. Ace and I pick a booth away from the occupied ones and a young mare comes around with menus. We look through and order before sitting quietly in the booth.

“Caramel,” Ace says after a long period of silence, “I know you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” I tell him. “I’m infuriated.”

“Yes, well, I… completely understand. I was… stupid and irrational. I know you intend to leave as soon as we’re done in Canterlot, but I don’t want to leave like this.”

“Ace, we’ve known each other for a year, but I didn’t know you until a few weeks ago. Either way, we’re gonna leave like this because I can’t tell who you are or even what you wanted with me – specifically me – in the first place.”

“Well, at least you’re not disposable.”

I look up. To my surprise, Roseluck is standing next to our table, and she soon sits herself down next to me. “That zebra of Blackjack’s forgets that roses have thorns,” she says. “So, might I ask what you two are thinking of doing?”

“I’m heading to Ponyville once I’m done with this tour,” I say. “I want nothing more to do with this bastard.”

“Right… you never did explain the circumstances of your employment, did you?”

“And neither did you yours,” Ace replies. “What’s the big deal, leaving Blackjack so suddenly?”

“I came to realize I was no more than a disposable resource,” Roseluck replies back. “Once he was finished with me and I was no longer novelty, I’d be gone as soon as anyone else he wanted. I figured that out once I heard you were old friends and he decided he was going to offer you that job.”

“What business of yours is it what Blackjack wants with me?”

“If he wanted to kill you, then how soon would I be gone?”

Ace remains quiet.

Roseluck turned to me. “So, how exactly did you meet Ace?”

I sigh. “He… he hypnotized me. Placed me under a trance to do whatever he said.”

Roseluck looked at me strangely. “Really…?”

“Yeah. I… I think I’m starting to bre—would you cut out that infernal coughing, Ace!?”

“Starting?” Ace says incredulously. “You do realize exactly why you’re here?”

“Because Blackjack’s gonna kill me otherwise!”

“And because you can’t bear to leave me. My fault, I will admit, but it’s the truth. And you must remember what I told you our first day: hypnosis is not infallible, but it only works if you’re willing. But just how willing are you? That, to me, seems as important a question as to why you’re still here.”

I hate it when he pins me like that. I can’t actually give him an answer, even one that supports what he says, but I can’t say a thing against it. If I had any actual sense, I wouldn’t even wait until the tour is over. I’d just go back to Ponyville right now and not be bothered by this anymore.

Instead, I stick here, and why? Because, I have to admit, I’m concerned for his safety. He’s in danger and so I willingly place myself there with him because I want to see him get out of it. Almost like it’s another magic trick or that it’s some sort of illusion placed on me by his hypnosis. I have to break him out before I can.

“You know,” Ace says to Roseluck, “if you wanted an example for yourself, I could show you what exactly we’re talking about.”

Roseluck shakes her head. “I think I’m fine.”

“Oh, I’ll give it to you anyways,” he says. He turns to me, a sly smile on his lips and a half-lidded look in his eye. “Caramel won’t mind, would you?”

“I will mind!” I should at him, reeling back as though he’s hurt. “I do mind! Ace, for the love of Celestia, stop!”

Thankfully, I’m able to ignore Ace somewhat as our food comes – Roseluck seems to have ordered when we weren’t paying attention – and eat. It’s simple, but we’re promised a larger, late dinner when we get to Dodge Junction and spend the night for refueling before the waitress leaves. Trying to turn the conversation away from myself, I look over to Roseluck.

“So, how did you get involved with Blackjack?” I ask.

“Well, me and my sisters used to go to Las Pegasus all the time for gambling. Blackjack enjoys gambling himself and said he thought I was pretty good. We got to talking and he was… he was such a gentlecolt. He took me out to dinner at one of his restaurants and the place was so good and inviting and I ended up having a drink or two. There was no one else with him but me.”

“So, no Untakhan or Fine Print?”

“Oh, I’m sure Fine Print was somewhere in the background, but I never saw him, then. After a while, we left Las Pegasus and headed back to Ponyville. I thought I’d never see him again when suddenly he turns up at my doorstep and asks if I want to come with him to travel Equestria for a time before heading to Baltimare with him. And so, four months ago, I went.”

“He treated you well,” Ace says. “He rarely does that. He must have trusted you.”

“Apparently.” Roseluck takes a bite of food. “Surely you saw the car being loaded on.”

“I might have noticed it,” I say.

“Can’t remember exactly,” Ace responds.

“It’s mine. Forty-thousand-bit TVR Griffon 500. The other three are a ghastly black like his casino. But, I’ve got a rose-red one and it looks quite pretty.”

“You drive?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Had to for flower arranging. Going around to seven places in one day. And it got me away from Untakhan.”

“Didn’t know a mare could drive,” he says. “I thought they still had to have someone else in the car.”

“Well…” Roseluck says tentatively, “police tend not to notice you if… you’re the marefriend of the leader of one of the biggest crime syndicates in Equestria.”

Ace tries not to act surprised. “Right… forgot about that…”

We finish our lunch in silence and are each offered a glass of water. The weather is getting hotter but we haven’t quite left the plains yet. We sit in silence for a few moments and Ace stares out the window for a time as though wondering what to do next. There’s not much we can do for now, but sit and wait.

“Caramel,” Roseluck asks me. “Do you… do you think we could talk for a minute in private?”

I nod. “Sure Roseluck.”

I get up from the table and follow Roseluck. She starts leading me out of the car towards the cabins for overnight usage.

“Caramel, listen to me.”

I turn around and see Ace still staring at the window. “What now?”

The sly smile returns to his face and I realize I just obeyed another command. “Caramel, come to our cabin in ten minutes.”

I nod before I realize it and continue to follow Roseluck out of the car.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“About one,” she says. “Six hours to Dodge Junction.”

“Well, then, hurry,” I tell her, “because I’ve got ten minutes.”

Roseluck nods and picks up the pace.

Her cabin is a few doors down from mine and Ace’s. Not quite at the other end of the hallway, but far enough to feel like it. She opens the door, motions me in, then closes it and locks it. She closes the blinds and does a last peek out the window of the cabin before speaking with me.

“What does he have planned for you?” she asks.

“Who? Ace of Diamonds?”

“No!” Roseluck growls. “Blackjack! I know you had another meeting with him; what does he have planned for you?” she repeats urgently.

“Um… look, I know he’s trying to possibly convince Ace to go to him. But, at our last meeting, Ace bargained for my life. I’m to finish the current tour then head home to Ponyville where he can’t touch me.”

Roseluck shakes her head. “Not good enough.”

“Come again?”

“That’s not fast enough. So long as you’re with Ace, you’re in danger.”

“What do you mean? He had Fine Print come up with some document saying I can’t be touched.”

“Do you think that will matter?” Roseluck nearly shouts. “Look, I know that Ace has you under some sort of hypnotism, but you’ve got to listen to reason. We need to get Ace to Canterlot, settle him down somewhere, then you’ve got to get back to Ponyville.”

“What? I’m just supposed to abandon the only pony I’ve really known for the last year? And I can’t just leave him that easily; he’s been placing me under for 45 weeks in a row. I didn’t even get hypnotized last week and I’m still listening to and obeying his instructions.”

“Dammit, Caramel! Your life is at stake! If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be in the crossfire. Please…” Roseluck’s tone changes to that of pleading. “I need to get out, as well, and I’ll go with you. I could… I could monitor you and make sure you don’t cave in again.”

“What about Ace? Can’t we get him to safety as well?”

“Ace only bargained for you to make it to Ponyville safely, Caramel,” Roseluck continues, her voice getting firmer. “Blackjack sees his head as a target. If you don’t shake yourself out of this, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

“Look, Blackjack has plans for Ace to put on a show to hypnotize all of Baltimare, and I’m sure he could have it go around to other towns. I don’t know what his plan is, but I’m sure it’s going to involve something to the effect of letting him and his men run free. If Ace is left alone, he’ll be caught, subdued, and this is going to take effect.”

“All very well and true, but look what he’s done to you! He’s like one of those snakes in the Everfree; he’s got you wrapped up so much you can’t feel your own limbs! It’s like you’d rather die alongside him than save your own hooves!”

“Then I’d rather be the one he does that to than putting thousands of other ponies at risk.”

“It’s you versus a mob, then. What do you expect is going to happen? You’ll come out and be the hero? Please; the best you’ll have is both your legs broken and expect to pay a protection fee.”

“Alright. Maybe I’m in trouble. But I’m not leaving Ace. I… I can’t.”

Roseluck looks at me piteously. “You’re a damn fool, Caramel,” she says quietly.

I nod. “Yeah… I don’t want it. But… I need it.”

“You don’t need it,” Roseluck tells me. “You just think you do. You’ve been living with it for long enough you can’t understand living without it. You… you just have to take it one step at a time.”

I look at Roseluck. “It’s not because of who he is, is it?”

“I wouldn’t care either way,” she tells me. “It’s what he’s doing to you I have a problem with. I don’t even know who you were originally, but I can tell that Ace has been manipulating you for so long this isn’t you.”

I try not to say the words that are coming out of my mouth. “What… what time… is it?”

Roseluck looks at a watch on her hoof. It’s plain and simple with a nice, neat face. “One ten. Please, Caramel, you don’t have to…”

I shake my head. “I’d better go. Sorry Roseluck… but I just can’t leave him right now.”

“Caramel, please!” Roseluck shouts as I leave.

I close the door before I can hear any more. There’s a thump from the other side and I think Roseluck must have smashed into the door trying to follow me out. The sound of muffled expletives follows me down the corridor, each step feeling like I’m carrying a lead weight with my own attempts at resisting the command.

I can slow down, but I can’t stop myself. I soon find myself at the door of our cabin, a single hand on the handle. The handle squeaks as I lower it, hearing first one click, then two, then three as the lever slowly pulls out from the slot. The door slides open and I can hear the sound of the metal bottom screeching along the guide rail as I try to stop the door in one place.

I look through the half-open door and see half of Ace’s face standing in front of the window, now passing through a dry desert expanse. One, bright blue eye stares directly at me, piercing me. The face looks impassive, but I can tell he’s watching with interest, not saying a thing but wondering if I’ll actually manage to stop myself from following through with his commands. I grit my teeth and the door slows to a crawl as I see the other half of Ace’s face through the opening. I try to plant my hooves in place and even lean away from the handle, trying as hard as I can to not open that door.

So… why isn’t my body responding to my own commands?

“Caramel…” His voice is somber as his eyes start to water.

“Don’t you dare, Ace…”

“Just come in and let us talk.” It’s pleading, tugging at me.

The door slides open a little more, enough for me to walk through. “Please, Ace… Why are you doing this…?”

“Caramel, I’m serious. I just want to talk. About all of this.”

“Do you not trust me? Did you not think I’d come back eventually?”

“I want to talk to you and tell you something before it’s too late.”

“It won’t be too late,” I tell him. “Not with what you’ve done to me.”

“Caramel, release the handle and come inside.”

A red glow begins to envelop the handle. Not burning, but something akin to magic. I pull my hand away at the shock of seeing the red magic and instinctively jump away… into the cabin. I’m still looking at the door instead of Ace and watch as the trick is finished by the door closing and locking behind me without Ace ever even touching it.

I turn around to see Ace calmly leaning against the beds. He almost looks sad.

“Alright, you manipulative bastard… tell me what you wanted me for.”

Ace gets up from the beds. He comes over to me and looks me up and down. It’s almost the same inspection he gave me when he was inspecting me before he first hypnotized me. He looks straight at me for a long time, and I can feel his ice-blue eyes piercing into mine. I only now notice that the outsides are red.

“Caramel…” he says, and starts towards me.

I give him a hard shove. “No!” I growl at him. Ace slams into the window; his arms grasp for something to hold on to as he slides to the ground. “Please! No more! I’ve had enough of your hypnosis! I just want out! I want to be free to do what I want!”

“Caramel…” he says, his voice pained. “Please… just let me…”

“Dammit, Ace, can’t you see!? All this time you’ve been asking me if I want to go home and I said I was fine. Well, now I do want to go home. I want out. I want out before I die like some dog in the street. And now you can’t let go of me.”

“Caramel…” Ace says. “All I wanted… was to—”

“I don’t care what you wanted!”

“Caramel… Caramel, please… listen to me.”

I was about to yell at him again, but suddenly no words wanted to come out of my mouth. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get anything to burst forth any more.

Ace grabs a hold of one of the beds and pulls himself up. “Caramel…” he says, almost like he’s tasting it. “Caramel… I wanted you to know that… that I don’t want you to go. But… I respect if you do. It’s your choice.”

He’s choking up again, and I see a single drop fall from his eye and darken a spot on the carpet. “I… for a time, you brought me happiness, Caramel. You were the body I’d reach out for at night and could not find, the constant companion that always was at my side. For just a short time, Caramel… I actually didn’t feel alone. I wish I’d gotten to know you better, and that you had gotten to know me; I swear I’m not actually like this. I just… had forgotten what it was like… to have somepony there…”

I feel my own self tearing up for a different reason. “But… is this the way you had to go about it?”

“Caramel… maybe someday I’d like to meet you again. Sometime later, when you’re not under a trance. Then maybe we could start over again. You’d… you’d forget me by then. But… but then, I could remember this day, and not fall into the same stupid mistakes I’d made before.”

I burst out crying and launch myself into his chest. I can’t help myself from crying, and the most Ace can do is steady himself before settling us down onto the bed, where he hugs me back. I can feel him stroking my back as I merely cry into his chest.

“I want out, Ace… I don’t want this anymore…”

“Ssh… I know, Caramel…” Ace sniffs, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I was a fool for how I thought.”

“Please, Ace… please make this stop… I don’t know what to do…”

“Caramel, what would you do if you acted without inhibition?”

“I would tell you… how much I hate you for what you’ve done to me…”

“…is that all?”

“I would tell you… how much…”

“Ssh… relax, Caramel, you can tell me.”

I couldn’t hold it in. “…I don’t want you to die, Ace. I can’t leave you to die.”

I don’t remember how long we stayed like that, me in Ace’s arms crying into his chest about how he was going to die because of Blackjack and how much I hated him but couldn’t bear to say that and have that indecency be the last thing I say to him before he dies. Ace might have been a manipulative bastard, but… I’d be even worse if I left him to die and the last memory he has before he dies is me telling him how a small part of me would be okay if he dies.

It makes me feel bad thinking about it.

* * *

I often wonder what it would be like if something different happened. Like… like maybe I was fine with Ace’s hypnosis. Or maybe I never was hypnotized at all and just worked with Ace of my own free will. Or… sometimes what happened if I had never met Ace of Diamonds. I dream about them every night. I think of what would happen. But… it’s funny. They all turn out to be nightmares.

Every single time, something turns out wrong.

It could be that I never met him, and life turned out boring. It could be that I was never hypnotized, but we got into a fight. Or sometimes I was fine with his hypnosis and lost my true identity. Even when I questioned if being with Ace is what I really wanted, I had these nightmares.

Ever since our first meeting with Blackjack in his 21 Casino, a different nightmare showed up: Ace, lying dead on the floor, a bullet hole in his brain. I’m gone, not even around to see him die. As much as I hate him, it’s still a nightmare that makes me bolt up in the middle of the night with sweat on my forehead, one that makes me take a look at his sleeping form and watch him breathing just to remind myself he’s still alive.

I may hate him. But, even as I feel the effects of his trance leaving me, a part of me still holds on to these nightmares. Because it makes me think I can do something about it. And sometimes, I think I understand. It’s not me becoming dependent on Ace and his hypnosis. It’s that, from the start, Ace has been dependent on me.

Because without me, he might have these same nightmares.

Without me, life for him would have been boring.

Without me, he would get into a fight.

Without me, he would lose his identity.

Without me… he’d probably already be dead.

Author's Note

flop = after a discard, the first three of five community cards in which all players may use to make their hand