Arc 2- 7 (Casinos, Griffins & Super Suits [A])

Trixie, as a teenager, is sitting on top of an earth pony colt the same age as her with an amber coat and a dark auburn mane and tail with a sunflower as a cutie mark. The colt is lying on his back, smiling a big toothy smile while Trixie shifts her position and rubs one hoof over his chest while the other goes on the floor to keep her up. The two are on the top row of some bleachers in a dark and silent gym. The gym is not completely dark or silent, though; there are dim lights hanging from the ceiling with the full moon shining through the decorated windows, and the two lovebirds’ giggling is covering the gentle humming from the generators.

“You have a funny name, you know that right?” giggles Trixie.

“What can I say? My parents have a great sense of humor,” he says, then he looks to his side at the stairwell of seats and chuckles nervously. “Wow, we kinda picked a bad spot.”

“I thought you wanted to be a Royal Guard, Sunny,” teases Trixie with a seductive smile while leaning closer to his Colt’s face; as she leans closer to him her mane tickles his shoulder, making him giggle and shudder. “Shouldn’t Royal Guards be fearless?”

“Last I checked Royal Guards are supposed to act fearless. So I guess you can say that we are magicians of emotions. We can make them disappear.” He puts a lot of emphasis on “disappear” and Trixie laughs and playfully punches his shoulder. “Hahaha.... ow.”

“Did I hit you too hard?” asks Trixie, genuinely worried that she hurt him.

“Nope,” replies Sunny with a wince. Then with a fluid swipe of his hoof, Trixie loses her grip on his chest and she eeps while falling on his chest. He then hugs her tightly and rubs his hooves against her body in gentle strokes, making their tails flick in excitement. They both laugh quietly and exchanging quick pecks that quickly turn to passionate kisses, and soon they become so aroused that it hurts to hold back. After a minute of heavenly kissing passes, Sunny says with a sultry smile: “So, Ms. Great and Powerful Trixie, since my parents are gone for the weekend, I was thinking that you and me can go over to my place and have-”

[[[[O]]]]

“CUPCAKES!” yells Minty right in Trixie’s ear.

Trixie screams, flails her hooves in the air, and falls out of her bed, right in front of Minty with the lower half of her body still on the bed, tangled in sheets. She silently curses Minty for ruining a nice dream; but when she thinks about it, the dream is based off of a memory, and her father did break into the house and ruin any chance of a future with Sunny. So Minty ruined a dream that started out nice but would’ve ended up bad. Trixie forces herself to stop thinking about the dream and focuses on how to get herself untangled. After she manages untangle herself using comical squirms and use of magic, she feels small pin pricks of pain all over her body and tries to inspect herself to see how bad it is. She doesn’t see much, but from what she can see, Fancypants will more than likely face-hoof since the new bruises and semi-healed scratches are obvious. When Trixie takes a step forward she feels her muscles tighten up and her walk turns into a limp.

‘Today is going to suck,’ thinks Trixie grumpily while making an agitated wince.

“Yeah, maybe you should try wearing pads next time,” remarks Minty; she’s balancing a tray of a dozen cupcakes with vanilla, chocolate, and mint icing on her head.

“Well why don’t you give me those pads you were painting?” grumbles Trixie irritably, then she sees the cupcakes, more specifically, the green frosting spiraling up in a perfect twist and has to swallow her saliva lest she wants it to ooze out of her mouth. “Can I have one?”

“Of course you can, silly. That’s why I brought them in here.”

Trixie snatches one of the cupcakes with mint frosting on it using her magic and upon biting into the pastry her body shudders from the holy taste on her tongue, but that feeling doesn’t last too long. She remembers how angry Minty was with her last night and was concerned about her saying that she wasn’t the only one who’s dead inside. After finishing her cupcake, Trixie comes to the conclusion that she owes Minty an apology.

“Hey Minty, about last night-”

“Apology accepted,” interrupts Minty while trotting out of the room with a small bounce.

Trixie is frozen for a moment, not sure what to think about what had just happened, but after her muscles decide to work again she walks after Minty, and along the way she passes her room and sees that the stuff is no longer in view and when they get into the kitchen Trixie’s eyes widen at the scene. The whole place is covered in flower and sugar and other baking materials with towers of dirty dishes in the sink. Not only that, she also sees dozens of carefully wrapped cupcakes, cakes, muffins, and a pie of some kind. Then she notices a very detailed picture of Bon Bon’s office with everything labeled and sheets of paper with numbers and names on them.

“Did you do all this?” asks Trixie, amazed beyond comprehension at what she is seeing.

“Took me all night, but yep, I baked and drew and labeled and wrapped and then woke you up,” says Minty. She then she pushes a small plate of cupcakes with mint icing towards Trixie, grabs her keys, and starts towards the door. “C’mon, Trixie, I gotta get you to work. Take the cupcakes with you.”

Trixie nods, carries the plate with her magic, and winces with the first few steps, but after those few steps come and go, the pain subsides. When they reach the elevator they have to share it with an older earth pony stallion with a grayish amber coat and a gray mane and tail with three bags of money for a cutie mark. The tie on his suit is carelessly put on and his suit is a mess, along with his mane and tail. The two mares look at him as he whistles casually, occasionally glancing at the two. Trixie thinks nothing of it, but Minty gets an evil smile and she leans towards the stallion and says: “Hey, Filthy, you probably want to tone it down next time you and ‘Misty’ do your little shindig. You two kept me up all night with your thumping and screaming.”

Filthy Rich’s whistling instantly stops, his whole body stiffens, and his face quickly turns redder than a red delicious apple as he looks at Minty out of the corner of his eye. Trixie’s eyes also widen and she looks at Minty, who appears to be enjoying herself a little too much. When the door opens up to the lobby the stallion bolts out of the apartment complex and disappears into the crowd of ponies making their commute to work.

“What the hay was that all about? Do you know him?” asks Trixie while stepping out of the elevator.

“I recognized him as one of the business-stallions whose financing the Celestial Spire. But those two were part of the reason why I couldn’t get any sleep. You’re lucky that you’re a heavy sleeper; it was like listening to a porno and honestly very distracting,” says Minty casually.

“Okay, I don’t-”

“I mean it went on for hours. Just when I thought they were done they went at it again!”

“Minty!”

“What? I’m just sayin’...”

Minty and Trixie step into the parking lot, and sudden morning sunlight makes Trixie squint her eyes and her head drifts up to look at the clouds. They are far and few, but what little there is are white and fluffy, adding a sense of peace to the morning rush. They walk towards her mini-train in silence, Minty has her bounce, appearing to have calmed down from last night’s incident, and Trixie is too busy munching on her minty cupcakes to speak. In fact, she’s enjoying them so much that she doesn’t care that she has frosting and crumbs all over her face. When they get in the vehicle and start their trek to Fancy Entertainment. While they wait for the traffic to clear up so they can actually go through Minty turns on the radio. It has a slow rock song playing.

“And tell me how I'm supposed to feel,

When all these nightmares become real;

'Cause I don't know-”

The road clears up and Minty changes the channel before driving through. Once again, it is rock.

“So now I reap what I have sewn,

And any rapture I had shown has bled dry

And I walked the streets alone,

Accepting pain I'd never known,

As you died, you died-”

Minty mumbles something under her breath and switches the channel again. Trixie watches her madly switch through the channels, each one playing a different song; from metal to rock and rap to country. After she switches the channel for what seems like the umpeenth time, another rock song comes on.

“As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen and all those sad goodbyes

I'm never gonna dance again

Cause guilty hooves have got no rhythm

Though it's easy to pretend-”

“What is up with this music?” wonders Minty out loud. She presses her hoof, hard, against the radio and the channel changes to a mare getting worked up over something, and from the way she’s talking, it sounds like she’s on a roll. Trixie stares at the radio while munching on one of her last two cupcakes while Minty keeps her eyes on the road, occasionally looking down at the radio.

“...The ideals of this nation -of Love and Tolerance and Harmony- have been twisted into an unrecognizable monster! How can we, as decent ponies, live with ourselves when Love and Tolerance means to blindly accept everything, and Harmony means *ONE** view? Oh, don’t correct their mistakes! Don’t discuss why you think their lifestyle is wrong! Doing so is intolerant! We have become so-”*

Trixie watches Minty get an annoyed look as she changes the channel; she’s guessing that Minty isn’t a big fan of politics. The next pony up sounds like he’s in more control of his emotions. Trixie is on her last cupcake now.

“...The Lunar Revolt was not about night versus day, that is actually a gross simplification and so far from the truth that it is disgusting. It was a war about the survival of an idea -a revolutionary idea. Many historians thought that this idea was lost when Celestia retook control of Equestria, but near Rambling Rock Ridge archaeologists recently uncovered an army of statues with the variety of everyday life during that time period, and very well hidden was a copy of the fabled ‘The Lunar Republic’-”

“Boring,” says Minty comically, and once again she changes the channel, and this time it’s a familiar voice.

“Gooood evening, children, DJ-Pon3 here for some quick news and music! First off, last night somepony donned a costume and kicked the crap out of a gang of griffins-”

Minty instantly shuts off the radio, saying that there’s nothing good on, and Trixie sighs depressingly while leaning against the window. She did want to hear what this “DJ-Pon3” pony had to say about her take on the whole mess, but apparently Minty doesn’t want to hear about it. Not that Trixie could blame her since she did make a mess out of everything. But curiosity be damned!

“Hey Minty, can you turn the radio back on?” asks Trixie nervously. Minty looks at her and a few seconds of tense silence pass before Trixie nods towards the radio. “I just want to hear what DJ-Pon3 has to say.”

Minty sighs and it takes her another thirty seconds to reluctantly turn the radio back on.

“...So whoever you are, I stand behind you, and anypony who is sick of the criminals running the show here would stand behind you too. And Bon-Bon, rest in peace, we’ll miss you and your delicious candies. Now on to some music!”

Minty turns off the radio again and Trixie looks down and her whole body sulks, what DJ-Pon3 said added to the guilt of failing to save Bon Bon.

“Don’t worry, Trixie, we’ll find who killed Bon Bon,” says Minty as she pats Trixie’s shoulder.

Trixie looks out the window as they pass a couple of Royal Guards overseeing a group of four ponies in prison garb cleaning off some graffiti on a large Celestia sculpture that said “LONG LIVE THE NIGHT!” with a moon as the “O”. A few minutes later they pull up to the Fancy Entertainment parking lot, which is nearly filled to the brim with motorized wagons and a two wheeled vehicle that reminds Trixie of bulky, mechanical bicycles. Minty is kind enough to tell her that they are another Flim and Flam invention they call the “Bee”.

“The bee?” says Trixie quizzically while looking at one of the strange vehicle.

The vehicle has thick wheels and little boiler engines in the belly of its main part. The back wheel looks like a thick tire, but the front is shaped like a ball, and it has a large light on the front and a couple of smaller ones on the back as well as a radio antennae. Also, from the looks of it, the pony lays down on it and sticks their forehooves in a couple of slots to control it. Trixie is really impressed by the way it looks and finds herself thinking: ‘Screw the mini-train, I want a bee.’

“Yep, the bee,” says Minty, now wiping the crumbs and frosting from Trixie’s face using a random rag she had found, “those things are all the rage with the younger crowds. I personally like this baby better. No one screws with a mini-train, and one wrong move with a bee and your corpse will be mopped up off the road.”

Trixie grimaces. “Thanks for the visual.”

“No problem, now let’s get you to work.”

Trixie and Minty walk inside and are immediately greeted by Penny Chart and a blast of cool air.

“Hey, Penny, Trixie here needs to check in,” says Minty while patting Trixie on her back.

Trixie suddenly finds herself with cold hooves as Penny Chart tells Trixie to follow her. Minty is about to follow them, but she’s stopped by Penny Chart and informed that she can’t follow them because she isn’t technically an employee, but assures her that Trixie is in good hooves. After that assurance Minty smiles and says her farewells and leaves before Trixie has a chance to say anything. Trixie sighs when she sees Minty walk outside and then practically run to her vehicle and zoom away.

“Follow me, Trixie,” says Penny Chart lightly, obviously forced.

Trixie follows Penny Chart to a smaller room that has a machine that looks like a box with a slot for a sheet of paper to go in. Connected to it is a clock, and next to the device is an area of the wall where slips of paper are tucked in neatly in their own slots, and each paper has someone’s name on it as well as little numbers on them to show when they arrived and left. Trixie also notices the Flim-Flam seal at the bottom of the main part of the machine.

Penny Chart pushes a button on the ground and a fresh slip of paper pops out of the wall, next to Trixie. She then pulls it out with her mouth and scribbles Trixie’s name on it.

“This is your time sheet; you’ll need this to determine how much you get paid” explains Penny Chart. “If you forget to sign in or sign out it’ll be bad for you. If you forget to sign in, you don’t get paid for the hours worked, unless you can get someponies that are not on your team to vouch for your presence. If you forget to sign out, we’ll pay you for a full work day but without any of the overtime pay, even if you did work overtime.”

Trixie nods and Penny Chart puts the slip of paper in the slot of the machine, and it is sucked up and a horrible, screeching and shredding sound echoes in the room. Trixie cringes and her ears fold down in a feeble attempt to block out the noise.

“Don’t worry about that!” yells Penny Chart over the noise. “It shows that the Stamper is working!”

When the Stamper stomps, the slip pops out with a little ding and Penny Chart pulls it out and puts it in Trixie’s slot, labeled with her name and “505” next to it. Trixie cocks her head at the odd coincidence, but she doesn’t have the time to wonder about the statistical possibilities of that happening because Penny Chart nudges her down the hallway.

“Fancypants told me to bring you to his office when you get checked in,” she says.

Trixie nods and when they reach the blandness that is Fancypants’s office, the old stallion is on wearing headsets connected to a bulky communications device with his back turned to the door.

“...It would be great to spend an evening with her and her friends. There is that party at the Palace in a week so-”

Penny Chart clears her throat and when Fancypants turns around she says: “Trixie’s here, I’m off to my desk.”

“Thank you, Penny Chart.”

Penny Chart leaves without another word and Fancypants turns around while Trixie stands in the middle of the doorway, listening to his conversation and feeling like an idiot.

“Sorry, dear, an employee had a quick message,” says Fancypants. A few seconds later he chuckles and sits in his seat, saying: “Well I can’t wait... Fleur, I have to go now... I love you, too... Bye.”

Fancypants hangs up, sighs dreamily and then he smiles at Trixie, but that smile instantly disappears when he sees Trixie’s condition and she shrinks down slightly as Fancypants jumps up.

“Oh for the love of Celestia!” cries Fancypants. “What did I tell you about those bruises of yours?”

“To get them taken care of,” drones Trixie.

“Right! And you come back with more bruises and scratches?”

“I punched a mirror and uh tried to do a backflip off my bed.”

Fancypants stares at Trixie and she tries to smile innocently, but the beads of sweat rolling down her head are a dead give away she’s lying. She knows that he knows that she’s lying too, just by the way he’s staring at her, jaw slightly open and head tilted. Then he shakes his head and turns around, mumbling: “You’re a horrible liar.”

Trixie looks down, ears drooping and making small a whining noise. Fancypants then makes his way to the hallway and tells her to follow him so she can meet her team. So Trixie quietly follows him to the back of the building where a large mini-train and a few chubby motorized wagons are waiting with ponies casually waiting to get their tasks. He takes her to a group of eight: four unicorns, two pegasi, and two earth ponies. There are only two stallions in the group, too, a unicorn and a pegasus. The group is casually conversing amongst themselves and immediately stop when Fancypants bangs his hooves against the pavement.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, I would like you to meet your new team member, Trixie Lulamoon,” says Fancypants while tugging Trixie closer to him as she tries to shrink behind him. She lets out an annoyed grunt and looks down at the ground while Fancypants continues with his introduction. “Now, I expect you all to treat her with respect and train her appropriately for your line of work. And Hank.”

“Yeah,” says the male unicorn, looking bored and tired;  he has a gray coat with a short, sky blue mane and tail combed to give the bedhead look, and his cutie mark is a five point star with circles at the ends of each point.

“Since you are in charge I expect you to make sure she’s treated with respect, got it?”

“Sure.”

“Good.”

Fancypants then pushes Trixie towards them, and she digs her hooves in the pavement because she does not like the way they are looking at her. The situation reminds Trixie of those books she read where a new kid at a school would be overwhelmed by parental love in front of a group of bullies whose life force seemingly depended on making others miserable. After Trixie is pushed nearly hoof to hoof in front of Hank, she smiles nervously while Fancypants pats her on the back.

“Have fun, Trixie,” he says casually. Then he walks away and disappears inside the building.

As soon as the door slams shut Hank says: “Okay, listen here, Trixie, we all know about you, so none of that ‘Great and Powerful’ bullshit here. Here, we are a unit -a pyramid unit, where I’m at the top, and Crispin Creme is my second layer.”

“That I am!” says the male pegasus proudly while puffing out his chest and expanding his wings. He has a white coat with a red and blue mane and tail, and his cutie mark is a cake. After expanding his wings the mares ooh and awe at him while flashes a big toothy grin at Trixie. Some wind blows by, making his mane and tail flutter like he was the pony version of Fabio.

“Those three unicorns -Dusty, Starlight, and Opal- are the third layer of my pyramid. The fourth layer is made up of the other three. The two earth ponies are Cinder and Clover Field, and the pegasus is Clockwork.”

“So does that make me part of the fourth layer of your ‘pyramid’?” asks Trixie with a bit of a snarky attitude to make herself feel better.

“Nope, you’re the new layer. Number five. Basically all of us get to boss you around. So if Clover Field wants you to pick flowers-”

“Oh that’s me!” giggles Clover Field, she has a dark green coat with a puffy, light green mane and tail and a clover as her cutie mark.

“You pick those damn flowers. If Cinder wants you to burn the flowers, you burn them with a smile.”

Clover Field whines and looks down while Cinder glares at Hank, completely unamused by his horrible joke. She has a charcoal coat with white spots all over and her mane and tail reminds Trixie of Spitfire’s, only bleached. Her cutie mark just so happens to be a campfire, too.

“Got it?”

“Yeah, so what’s next?” says Trixie, trying to keep herself calm from the increasingly creepy field manager.

“We’re off to the Card Casino to help set up Monte Fountain’s show. We’re on a tight schedule, so no lollygagging, no trying to upstage anypony with your ‘Great and Powerful’ shenanigans, and for the love of Celestia’s plot stay on the work site.”

Trixie nods and the group piles into their respective vehicles. Trixie shares on of the chubby motorized wagons with Clover Field, Cinder, and Clockwork. Clockwork naturally has a clock as her cutie mark, and she has a sandy coat with a red braided mane. Unlike Cinder, who appears to hate life, and Clover Field, who won’t stop smiling, Clockwork seems content with what’s going on. A couple of minutes of awkward silence pass by before Clover Field decides to have a conversation with the newest member of their team.

“So, how did you banish the Ursa Major?” she asks with a giant, eager smile.

“Um, didn’t you hear that I didn’t do that?” says Trixie with a twinge of annoyance.

Clover Field thinks for a moment. “So what did you banish?”

“Nothing,” grumbles Trixie. She rests her head and looks out the window to watch the cars and buildings zip past.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t banish anything! It was all a lie, and because of that my life was ruined, so drop it!”

Clover Field looks down and sniffles while Cinder pats her on the shoulder.

“So what did you do to get here?” asks Clockwork a few seconds later.

“What do you mean?” asks Trixie while casting a curious glance at the pegasus.

“This little setup was designed by Fancypants, Celestia, and the EIB to help minor criminals on probation. Like Cinder was charged with third degree arson after she burned down a cabin.”

Cinder grumbles colorful words under her breath.

“Clover Field stole some fertilizer from a gardening store.”

“I had no choice! My flowers were dying!” cries Clover Field defensively.

“And I broke into my ex’s house to get my clock back. So what did you do?”

Trixie struggles to think of a good answer. She can’t tell them that she razed a town or murdered the Element of Laughter -which she’s wondering why nobody seems to know or care- , nor can she tell them that she was part of a militaristic vigilante organization that assassinated Ponyville’s mayor. She looks at the others and sees that they are all staring at her expectantly, and leaning in a little to add to the peer pressure.

“I got charged for assault,” says Trixie quietly. Trixie figures it’s not too far from the truth, she did get into a lot of prison fights after all, which led to her being tossed inside a prison of a prison.

“I should’ve known, you look like you’re part of a fight club,” says Cinder.

“Well I’m not.”

“I never said you were, I just said you looked like it.”

Trixie scoffs and rests her head against the window and ignores the the others for the rest of the trip. After about thirty minutes of driving through horrible traffic they reach the Card Casino. While driving around to the back Trixie stares at the oddly designed building. It is easily a dozen stories, has two large cards crossing over each other with the front door -which looks to be a revolving door shaped as cards- in between both cards, and on the edges of the buildings are giant spotlights. Then there is the tower on the roof that reminds Trixie of a cigar, which adds another ten stories to the building.

The convoy pulls around the back and stops in front of the garage. Clockwork gives Trixie a white hat with “FE” stitched on it in blue thread; she puts it on without question since that’s what the others are doing. When she jumps out the group is quick to assemble and she finds herself working with the same ponies she was riding with, but before she can get to work Hank whistles her over to him. Trixie grumbles under her breath and walks towards Hank, wondering if she screwed up already. Which she did.

“Trixie, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m going to put this as simply as I can,” says Hank irritably. “You cover your horn with your hat.”

“What?” whines Trixie, she looks past Hank and sees the other two unicorns have their horns exposed and wearing their hats like gangster wannabes. “What about them? Their horns are showing!”

“You cover your horn with your hat.”

“But it’s uncomfortable! And you’re not even-”

“You cover your horn with your hat.”

Trixie opens her mouth to protest, but decides it’s best not to, so she grumbles and uses her magic to adjust her hat so that her horn is completely covered.

“Better,” growls Trixie.

“Much,” says Hanks while walking away from Trixie.

Trixie sticks her tongue out and then stomps back to her group. They are unloading some boxes and smile gratefully at her when she uses her magic to help them carrying the boxes out.

“So, where do we take these things?” asks Trixie grumpily.

“To the backstage,” replies Clockwork.

Trixie carries her fair share of boxes to the backstage and sees that it’s already cluttered with building material and ponies running around setting up stage props. As Trixie weaves her way through the crowd, following Clockwork, she notices that the stage crew is doing tests on the floor to make sure that it twists, turns, and shifts up and down correctly. She also hears ponies shouting about fog machines and lights. When they finally get into a clear spot in the very back, the group carefully puts their boxes down and starts unloading. They unload all kinds of overpriced stage gimmicks, like multi-colored cloth and mannequins, and clothing, flyers, and lots of napkins with Monte’s arrogant smiling face plastered on them. Trixie chuckles when she sees this. She remembers her early years when she had an ego problem, but she was never dumb enough to put her face on a napkin since ponies would be using them to wipe crumbs off of their dirty mouth. That would be like someone using her mane as a rag.

Suddenly Crispin lands in front of the group on top of a crate, specifically in front of Trixie. Trixie yelps and jumps back and puts her hoof to her chest to calm her racing heart. The others also flinch, but smile and get hearts in their eyes when he flashes his toothy smile. Some wind blows past him, giving him the Fabio look again, but a moment later the wind stops and a couple of earth ponies push and drag a giant fan away.

“About time that dumb thing works,” says the pony dragging it under her breath.

“Ladies,” says Crispin charismatically, “I just want to say you are doing a fantastic job. Keep up the good work and...” He looks at Trixie and finally realizes her condition and frowns. “Wow, are you part of a fight club?”

“No,” says Trixie flatly.

“Oh... Well anyway, you’re all doing good. In fact, you’re all doing so good that if you can get this all taken care of within three hours I will treat you gals to dinner! How’s that sound?”

The girls all gasp and get eager smiles, and Trixie is particularly surprised by Cinder acting like an obsessive fangirl, but overall, she’s not impressed with what’s going on. Trixie blocks out the conversation and continues to unpack the odd assortment of stuff, and a couple of minutes of flirting later the pegasus leaves with his grin even wider than before. Trixie ignores the gossip and even tells them to leave her alone when they try to ask her if she drools over Crispin. A few minutes later, there is yet another distraction, but this one is even more obnoxious than Crispin.

“No! No! Nononononononono! Nooooooooooooooo!!! What are you doing!?” yells a stallion.

“Putting up the lights like you said, sir,” whimpers Dusty while she shrinks back, ears drooping; she has a gray coat with a messy brown mane and tail and a broom as a cutie mark. The pony that is yelling at her is none other than Monte Fountain himself; he’s wearing his show outfit and looks at though he’s ready to blow a gasket.

“I said red lights, these are green. You see the difference?” sneers Monte while holding up the color sheets for the lights. “This is red. Reeeeeed. And this is green. Greeeeeen.”

“But you-you said the green lights are supposed to be up front and the red in the back.”

“I said no such thing. You’re just an idiot. How am I supposed to-” Monte sees Trixie staring at him and when he flashes an evil smile at her while shoving the colored card back to Dusty she quickly goes back to work. “Oh-ho! THIS is too good! Too, too good!”

Monte hops on a crate and cranes his neck. Trixie tries to ignore him, but she can feel his eyes on her and hear him laugh cynically over the banging, sawing, and the other chaotic sounds of the work site.

“You there!” shouts Monte.

Trixie tries to ignore him as she unloads a string of colorful light bulbs; but this is no easy task. He keeps shouting at her with: “Hey!” or “Hey you!” or “You there!”.

He repeats those three phrases for another thirty seconds before he yells: “Equus to the mare ignoring me! I demand your attention!”

“Are you talking to me?” asks Clover while pointing at herself.

“No, I’m talking to the one who looks like a pile of crap!”

“Oh. Trixie, he’s talking to you.”

Trixie’s ears droop and she sighs heavily while pulling out streamers. She tries to continue her work, but she lets out a yelp as she’s suddenly lifted off of her feet by Monte’s magic and dropped in a small throne right in front of him, his ever widening grin doing an amazing job of creeping her out. But what makes Trixie even more nervous is that no one seems to care that she was just taken against her will by the creeper. Monte puts his hooves on the arms of the chair and drags it closer until their bodies are uncomfortably close, making Trixie shrink back and sweat nervously.

“How are you doing, Trixie? You remember me?” asks Monte; Trixie can smell a mix of mint and alcohol in his breath.

“No,” says Trixie as she squishes herself further into the throne’s cushion.

“I didn’t think so, I was in the crowd when you upstaged my brother.”

“I-”

Monte puts his hoof over Trixie’s mouth and shushes her; her eyes widen and her muscles tense up and when Monte’s smile grows wider she starts trembling.

“I will say I admire your skill in the art of showponyship, Ms. Great and Powerful Trixie. You are still a ‘Miss’, right?”

Trixie nods her head quickly and Monte copies Trixie’s head motion.

“Oh good, very good. I’m going to need you to stay here for a moment while I grab Hank. Sit tight... I’m serious. Don’t. Move. From this spot. At all.”

Monte does a dramatic spin, his silky cape brushing against Trixie face, and after adjusting his hat he trots away screaming for Hank. Trixie shifts in her seat and a minute later, when she tries to move, Monte’s hoof goes over hers, making her scream and jump in her seat, and Monte slides into view with Hank standing behind him.

“Found Hank, and he said I could borrow you for a minute,” says Monte cheerfully.

Trixie looks at Hank nervously, he simply nods his head and walks away to do whatever he was doing earlier before Monte’s interruption. Monte tilts the chair so Trixie slides out and he escorts her to the back of the audience area. The place they are at is brightly lit and has red carpet with casino game symbols stitched all over the floor in seemingly random locations, and the seats are all black with the tables being blue and each having their own little lamp. The back wall is lined up with booth that also have the little lights, and Trixie can’t see what the second story of the audience area holds, but is guessing that it holds more tables judging from the lamps poking above the railing. When Trixie sits in one of the booths, the seat lets out a wheezing noise and she feels some air brush against her coat as it escapes from the chair. She looks at her spot quizzically while Monte laughs and slides next to her coolly; he has the same thing happen to him.

“So, Ms. Trixie, I noticed you look a little,” Monte waves his hoof around to point and the difference bruises and scratches on Trixie’s body, “crappy.”

“Gee, thanks,” says Trixie while scowling and moving away from him.

Monte chuckles and levitates his and Trixie’s hats off of their heads and sets them down on the table. Then he whistles at a colt wearing a vest that is walking by. When the colt approaches their table Trixie’s jaw drops. Pipsqueak is working in the casino! She’s baffled that Pipsqueak is standing in front of her since she swears that there are laws in place about kids working in casinos.

“Oh, how do you do ma’am?” says Pipsqueak politely while bowing slightly.

Before she can reply, Monte butts in. “She’s fantastic. Give me and Trixie some of that Dr. Dew soda that you foallies love so much.”

“On the rocks?”

“With the umbrellas.”

“Lemons?”

“Limes.”

“Got it.”

Monte smiles proudly as Pipsqueak walks off, then he smiles at Trixie.

“It’s so nice to see the pony who upstaged my brother in town face to face.”

Trixie looks down and bites her lip, but Monte laughs and pats her shoulder.

“Relax, I’m not mad. If anything, I’m grateful for what you did, but surprised that somepony with your looks and status allowed yourself to fall so far from grace. After you upstaged my brother I knew we would’ve made a great team, but you disappeared for a while, and I was sad. And now here you are! It’s like Celestia has personally delivered me a gift in a golden box with a gem studded bow... thing.”

“That was stupid,” says Trixie bluntly.

“And I regret saying it. So are you interested?”

“In what?”

“A partnership. What else?”

“What do you mean?” asks Trixie suspiciously.

“You aren’t that dense. I know you want to work for me to get your fame back. Heck, you disappeared for ten years and then you show up working an entry level job. I know a mare like you, who grew up with her world on a silver platter, hates that. So we team up and I help you help yourself. How’s that sound?”

Trixie narrows her eyes, saying: “You said I looked like crap earlier.”

Monte shrugs. “Truth hurts. Anyway, a pony with your talent -your knack of wooing crowds- is too much to waste. Ten years has left a void in the magic show industry that could not be filled easily. In your fifteen minutes of fame you managed to sell more seats than the top ten career magicians combined.”

Trixie finds herself smiling and feeling her pride swell up from remembering those days, and Monte also flashes a smile; and it only gets bigger when Trixie leans forward, pressing her hoof down on her work hat. But she knows what game Monte is playing, she’s seen it almost every time she upstaged a magician. She would upstage someone, they would get mad, and then try to play cool and convince her to work for them. The methods are different, but the intent is always the same. Unfortunately for Monte, he is absolutely horrible at this art.

“You need me to help you get sales, don’t you?” says Trixie coolly.

“Think what you want, but I think that it is always tragic to see a young star crash and burn. I can help you rebuild your reputation. You can get your old life back, with all the fame,” replies Monte dramatically.

He shows her one of his napkins, and again, she has to stifle a laugh. Then he waves his hoof around to show off the magnificence of his casino.

“Fortune. Respect.”

Pipsqueak returns with a try in his mouth. The tray is holding two cups clear, carbonated, caffeine heavy drinks with equal sized cubes of ice in them and little umbrellas and lime slices. He carefully puts the tray down and nudges the first cup to Monte, and when he gives Trixie her cup he smiles at her before trotting off to do his other duties. When Pipsqueak is away, Monte snickers and scooches closer to Trixie.

“And any stallion you want.”

Trixie stares at him uneasily, moving away from him again, and he smirks and nods towards a couple of mares polishing the tables.

“Or mares if you go that way.”

Trixie pulls her hat closer to herself, and when Monte sees this he frowns.

“Sorry, but I can’t,” says Trixie, her tone basically slapping Monte in the face, then she puts her hat on. “This is what I do now, and I refuse to be used by anypony for any reason.”

“Trixie, I have contacts here in Canterlot and in Detrot, Stalliongrad, and Fillydelphia. You can get your life back with my help,” says Monte desperately. “Plus, the group I’m with can easily put a stop to whoever is turning you to a bucking bag.”

Monte points at all the scars and bruises at Trixie, and she does a quick inspection of herself. She never really thought of herself as looking like a victim of anything, not ever since Minty told her she looked like a “badflank” and when Winny told Grim that she looks like a “badass”.  But as much as she would like to get her life back she also sees that Monte is adding a new level to his begging. She knows he’s trying to manipulate her into his servitude by promising her a chance for a better life. Just like what Gray Muffin said about scum the day he rescued her.

Trixie is silent for a couple more seconds before a small smile flickers on her lips and she puts her hat back on, being sure to cover her horn.

“I’m sorry, Monte, your offer is generous to say the least,” says Trixie, now sliding out of her seat, “but I’m not interested in becoming your indentured servant. Plus, I already have a job, and that is helping you prepare for your next show. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Monte scowls and also slides out of his seat and towers above Trixie. She never realized how tall the zebra-pony was until just now; he’s almost two heads taller than she is.

“I see you dropped the third pony talk. Not really like you.” he says in a threatening tone.

“And how would you know what I’m really like?” retorts Trixie, her tone matching his.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie’s life was all about the stage, and to drop your title and third pony talk is dropping the last bit of what made you great.”

Trixie grabs her cup of soda and drinks half of it one go, and when she’s done she smacks her lips together and smiles at Monte. Monte, however, is flabbergasted, and gets grossed out when she burps. Trixie giggles and beats her hoof against her chest to get rid of the rest of the carbonated bubbles in her throat.

“Thank you, Magnificent Monte Fountain, for now the scales have fallen off of my eyes and I can see clearly,” says Trixie sarcastically after making a few comical faces when releasing the pressure in her chest.

“You were being sarcastic, weren’t you?”

“Yep, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. Thank you for the soda, though.”

Trixie walks off and she hears Monte laugh, any attempt to conceal his anger was a complete and utter failure. But Monte’s anger makes her smile, that’ll teach him to try to use her and to rip off her stage outfit.

“Go ahead and throw your life away!” yells Monte. “If you want to stay a plebeian fine by me! But don’t crying to everypony when you realize that you lost your only chance to get out!”

Trixie continues to walk, her victorious smirk getting more and more cocky, and she stops when she’s a few paces away and looks at the stage. Monte is right, it would be nice to get everything back and for her to be a force to reckon with in the entertainment industry. Then Trixie chuckles softly when she remembers her first time going on the stage.

===

“Ladies and gentlecolts, today we have a something special in store for you. I’m sure you all are weary of the same ole ponies coming up here time after time again and again,” said an energetic announcer.

Trixie watched the crowd nervously from the safety of the backstage; she’s wearing her star studded cape and hat that she wore to her small time gigs. The small, dimly lit stadium was tightly packed with aristocratic ponies whose presence is only known because of the small lamps on their tables. Trixie took a step back and grabbed a garbage can to hurl in. She’s so nervous that she lost all of what little she had for lunch. Her legs trembled, making it hard for her to stand, because she knew her father was in the crowd somewhere, along with Ms. Aural and a few other friends. And now they were going to see her embarrass herself.

“Oh Celestia, what have I gotten myself into?” moaned Trixie. She heared the audience laughing as the announcer did whatever it was he was doing.

“Trixie, ya there?” called the announcer.

“Oh crap!”

Trixie ran out to the stage, dropping her hat along the way, which upon realizing what had happened, she skidded to a stop and put her hat back on, the burning spotlight following her every move. Some of the crowd chuckled and when Trixie was in the middle of the stage, she had to sit down lest she wanted to fall over. For a moment both sides just stared at each other in total silence, only broken by a stallion making an obnoxious cough.

“Um... hi,” said Trixie quietly, her voice being magnified by the microphone hanging down from the ceiling.

That was quickly followed by the screeching noise of the microphone acting up, making Trixie cringe and some of the audience swear or laugh. Trixie gulped and started trembling violently while her sweat soaked her body and attire. Then she took a deep breath, stood up, and walked towards the edge of the stage and pointed a shaky hoof at the first pony she saw, which was a mare sitting next to a stallion. More than likely they were a couple.

“You there,” she said, trying to sound confident, but her quivering voice gave her away. The mare she was pointing at pointed at herself and Trixie nodded her head. “Yes, you. Come on up to the stage with... Trixie! Yes, come up with Trixie.”

The mare, looking nervous, leaned closer to her companion and said something, but he just chuckled and pushed her towards the stage. The mare is a unicorn with a grayish-purple coat and a purple and white mane and tail with three stars as a cutie mark.

“What is your name, ma’am?” asked Trixie.

“Just call me Mrs. Sparkle,” she said with a nervous smile.

“Okay, Mrs. Sparkle, I -Trixie noticed that you’re with your...”

“Husband.”

“Your husband? How long have you two been married?”

“Close to twenty five years.”

“Nice, well congratulations. I’m sure you’re husband gives you lots of flowers.”

Mrs. Sparkle smiled and nodded. “Oh yes he does. He loves giving me flowers.”

“Well, Trixie thinks it’s time to return the favor.”

With that being said, Trixie took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then she sat on her haunches and stretches her forehooves out. They glowed a light magenta and a cloud of the same color appeared in front of Mrs. Sparkle. Mrs. Sparkle’s eyes widen and she took a step back as something began to appear in the mist. A moment later, there was a flash of bright light and a fat bouquet of roses appeared in front of the old mare and lands in front of her. Trixie picked it up with her magic and handed it to her. The crowd cheered and stomped their hooves on the tables, making it sound like a stampede was going through the stadium.

“There you go, Mrs. Sprinkles,” said Trixie, her confidence swelling to levels she’d never felt before. Trixie looked at the crowd and her smile broadened as she bowed, and the only thing that her mind could come up with was: ‘They love me!’ and it was screaming it.

===

“Hey, Trixie, you probably want to snap out of it,” says Pipsqueak.

Trixie looks to her side and sees Pipsqueak looking at her. Trixie then looks at the stage again and is thankful that no one seemed to have noticed her staring off into space. However, when she sees Hank glaring at her she cringes and makes her way to the backstage with Pipsqueak following her for some reason.

“Why are you following me?” asks Trixie.

“I have to grab something from the backstage,” replies Pipsqueak coolly. Trixie rolls her eyes and tries to ignore Pipsqueak for the sake of avoiding more trouble with Hank, but the colt figures that he might as well talk to her since she’s right there. “So did you hear about what happened last night?”

“No, I was at my apartment breaking mirrors and doing backflips off of my bed,” says Trixie, immediately mentally kicking herself for saying something so stupid.

“...Yeah, okay. Um, well last night somepony kicked the crap out of five griffins at Bon Bon’s candy store! It was right across the street from where I’m living so the Night Guards woke up me and my mum and asked us all kinds of questions. Rumor says that the pony disguised herself with bedsheets and was unicorn.”

Trixie bites her lip and hurries her pace towards her group.

“They said she was a hard hitter, since the griffins had a lot of broken bones when the guards found them.”

“What makes you think the vigilante was a ‘she’? What if this pony was a colt who read too many comic books or something?”

Pipsqueak stops and taps his chin for a moment before nodding, completely seeing Trixie’s point. “I guess you’re right, they didn’t see the pony’s features after all, and only a crazy pony would dress up and try to take the law into their own hooves.”

“Look, Pipsqueak, it was nice talking to you, but I have to get to work.” Trixie looks at Hank again and sees him walking towards her with a very angry scowl. Trixie’s ears droop and she looks at Pipsqueak pleadingly. “I’m serious, I’m already in enough trouble for zoning out, so we can talk about this kinda stuff later.”

“Suit yourself, at least you showed some interest, the only ones who really care are-”

“Pipsqueak!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll see you around, Ms. Trixie.”

Pipsqueak walks away and Trixie knows it’s hopeless to avoid Hank, so she sits down and waits for the inevitable tongue lashing. Hank walks up to Trixie and glares at her, then he sighs heavily and runs his hoof against the stage floor while Trixie looks down, biting her lip.

“We need to talk,” says Hank angrily.

Trixie’s whole body sulks and she tries to hide her shame by looking down. The rest of the day is going to suck, she just knows it.

=**********=

Monte marches out of his elevator and onto the very top floor of the casino; it has a circle of crystal chandeliers around the edge and his carpet has squares with card suits in the middle. There is also a few patches of waiting areas that consist of a couple of seats by polished tables, and to keep the visitors entertained he has classical music playing. He also always has at least six guards, all ex-military unicorn stallions, guarding his floor. Most of the visitors come after his show to get his autograph or something, and there’ll be days where he just might take a mare or two into his abode to show them a good time. However, today is slightly different, his guards -which are all wearing black suits and sunglasses- are keeping an eye on a pony wearing a full gray cloak and keeping their head down.

Monte stops and looks the visitor quizzically and silently hopes it’s not a fangirl or fanboy trying to get his attention.

“Who’s this?” asks Monte.

“She wouldn’t say, all she said is that she wanted to talk to you about business,” says one of his guards.

Monte walks forward and kneels down so he can look under her hood, and when he sees who it is he stands up, saying: “Let her in, she won’t be any trouble.”

“Sir?”

Monte shoots him a nasty glare and the guard immediately nods and they step away from Monte’s visitor. The visitor stands up and quietly follows Monte into his room. His room has an entire wall made up of windows, giving him a great view of the Canterlot skyline and letting in an abundance of natural light which does great in warming up the place. He also has thick, wavy carpet that is white with small black spots peppered all over, and all of his furniture is oversized, abstract, and related to a casino setting in some way. Even the coffee table looks like a flattened roulette table!

“Have a seat, my dear,” says Monte while he walks over to a wine cooler.

The visitor sits on the couch and quickly removes her cloak, sighing with relief while doing so, and Monte pulls out a pair of wine glasses and carefully pours the wine in the glasses. When he’s done he puts the bottle back and walks back to his visitor with the glasses being held up by magic.

“It’s a little hot to be wearing cloaks, don’tcha think?” teases Monte.

“I didn’t want anypony to see me,” says Octavia as she adjusts her mane.

Monte gives Octavia her wine glass. “So, what’s this visit about?”

“I need to speak to Gilda about a job.”

“I don’t know Gilda.”

“Everypony knows you’re in with the griffins.”

“Speculates, Octavia. Everypony speculates that I’m in with the griffins. The griffins love this place, they only come here because they want to unwind and enjoy a good show. I only do my job, who comes and goes is none of my business.”

Octavia sips her wine and her lower eyelid twitches slightly. The wine tastes horrible, but Monte seems to love it; he’s already almost done with his glass.

“What if I told you that if the job is done right I’ll give you ten percent extra on top of what Gilda gives you,” says Octavia slyly after she successfully suppresses the urge to hurl.

Monte’s ears perk up and he grins while rubbing his hooves together excitedly. “You know me well, Octavia.”

“So will you tell Gilda my message.”

Monte slides next to Octavia, getting so close where their bodies are touching. Octavia shifts nervously in her spot, but Monte looks excited and curious about getting some extra bits along with something else.

“I have to know what the message is first,” says Monte while his eyes trace the curves on Octavia’s body.

“I want to her to grab a couple of ponies,” says Octavia as she slides farther away from Monte.

Monte winces and leans back while Octavia stares at him, worried that she might have scared him off.

He takes another sip of his wine and then says:  “A double kidnapping? Octavia, that kind of job isn’t cheap. I mean to hold somepony ransom-”

“I’m not interested in a ransom. I want Gilda to grab these ponies and bring her to me so I can kill them myself.”

Monte is sipping the last of his wine when Octavia told him that, and he spits out his wine, leading him to cough and hack painfully for a few seconds before finishing off with a wheeze. After that small show ends he manages to recollect himself.

“Okay, first off, who are these ponies, and what did they do to you to want them killed. Secondly, what you’re asking for is a very special order. It requires planning, lots of money, and you to have a steel gut to do a double murder.”

“The first is Trixie Lulamoon, she murdered my sister, and the other is Minty Sprinkles, she allowed it to happen and is now chauffeuring her around.”

“I... Wait, you had a sister?”

“Her name was Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

Monte puts his glass on the coffee table and chuckles while rubbing his hooves together. He mumbles something under his breath and then looks at Octavia, still trying to keep his smile. But when Octavia’s stare becomes more stern his smile disappears.

“Are you serious?” asks Monte in disbelief.

“Very.”

“Your sister was the Element of Laughter?”

“And Trixie killed her and Minty was supposed to protect her, but she didn’t... she did what she had to do, which was allow my sister to be murdered and show Trixie the sites.”

“Well that’s rough. I’ll tell Gilda about this job you’re offering, but first, do you have the money for the starting fee?”

Now it’s Octavia’s turn to be surprised. She scooches farther away from Monte, nervously saying: “I wasn’t aware there was a starting fee.”

Monte lips twist to suggestive smile and he moves closer to Octavia. “Think of it like those postage stamps. I’m the letter and the starting fee is the postage stamp needed to get the letter to Gilda. Usually I charge one hundred bits for this.”

“I had to walk through the bad part of Canterlot to get here, so I have no money with me.”

Monte snickers and his horn glows and a moment later the locks to his front door click. Octavia gulps as Monte puts his hoof on her chest provocatively and gently pushes her on her back. Octavia scrunches her body and stares wide eyed at him while he crawls on top of her.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips, “I’m sure we can think of an arrangement.”