The Mafia|Bombay Stories

by ProbableSarcasm

Rating: mature
Tags: Octavia, Adventure, Crossover, Alternate Universe, Twilight Sparkle, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 4217

Dwell deep into the world of Bombay City, where the rich and powerful call the shots. Home of the Four Families, there's not a thing that money can't solve, however, money can make a lot of problems too.

Once You're in, There's No Way Out

The Four Families of Bombay City controls everything, from the tax you pay on a regular basis, to the grocery store you buy a pack of smokes from.

From the hard era of The Prohibition of the 40's, to the Rock and Steady streets of of the 50's, and even to the soulful times of the 70's, crime was at an all time high Post Great War Two and there was no sign of stopping the Four Families of Bombay.

Step into the eyes of Naught Victorian, an ex-convict, a former bank robber, and ex-family colt as he looks into the newer forms of work as he battles building debt, a certain detective who won't cut him any slack, and the Capo that he works for: whom seems rather reckless with Naught's life.

However, as Naught begins to piece together who was behind Shining Armor's attempt at Naught's death: it's a brewing storm for the law enforcement to keep the Mafia and the other gangs from killing each other and cause an all out war.

To avoid being a victim, you sometimes got to be an associate.

Published 2015-08-13 19:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-08-13 19:40:02 UTC

The Underworld of Bombay City

The Underworld of Bombay City

The first few steps Naught took outside of prison, was like a breath of fresh air, the first time he's seen the roads in all of their glory for a long time. It was forever since he's done that.

Author's Note

GO AHEAD AND SKIP THIS CHAPTER IF YOU JUST WANT THE STORY

Bombay City
Based around real life New York City and fictional Empire Bay (From Mafia 2, which this story heavily draws of it's inspiration from), this city is always busy with business-mares and business-colts going about their business during the day and partying at night. If you're smart, you can get rich here and be wealthy, but if you're dumb: you can succumb to the life of double jobs for the rest of your probable short lived life.

However, if you're broke and smart: you can be desperate, but just how desperate are you to get the money? That is the moral that I'm trying to give, that everything that the Mafia did was out of desperation in the beginning, but in the end, they ended up dead or shot for a few years of prosperity. So when you become desperate, you take a couple of legally questionable jobs to pass the table.

In order to join a Mafia, a pony must be able to claim to be from either Ponyville or one of the same species, however, there are many instances where this rule was overlooked but this instant was rare. The Mafia is usually very racist, and with a limited race diversity: you can be drawn in with the Unicorn Family, the Earth Pony Family, the Pegasus Family, or the newest Changeling Family.

The Families and their roles in Bombay City
The Four Families have a rule of honor: Every action committed against one another has to be approved by the Gathering, which is an annual meetup of every Underboss and each of their Caporegime (The Four, or more, Captains of the Mob) to discuss business, personal relations, and even truce for wars.

Even though the Four Families rule, there are other crime syndicates still powerful in Bombay City and I can't talk about them without spoiling the story.

The Three Protagonists and Their Roles.

Naught Victorian was imprisoned at the same time Octavia joined the Mafia rank as Capo, in July 1937 at the age of eighteen years old. Naught was an excellent Taxi Driver, and an even better Driver For Hire, paid to drive anypony anywhere, no questions asked, no names required. Naught is excellent in racing and car control, habitually cruising on the country side at high speeds. Naught had his experience of weaponry, however, he has the worst luck ever when it comes to his weapons.
Born 1919, Naught is Twenty-Four.

Octavia had to crawl into the syndicate with a knife in her mouth and an dangerous glare in her eyes, she joined the Mafia as a Capo at the same time Naught was imprisoned. Octavia's backstory is set before Naught's, during the height of The Great War 2; Year 1932 at the age of eighteen. She came back from the war with a medical discharge after being shot with a sniper that ripped her ACL apart, which was repaired fully.
Born 1914, Octavia is twenty-six.

Twilight Sparkle is one of the few Untouchables, not able to deter away from the law and keeping harmony in the city of Bombay. Unlike many policemen and detectives, Twilight isn't able to be swayed into bribes or deals, the opposite in fact, as Twilight Sparkle is not afraid to crack some thug bones to get to the Underbosses plaguing the city. With her brother the being the Captain of The Royal Guards, Twilight's legally questionable actions against criminals go pardoned and unhinged.
Born 1920 Twilight is Twenty-Five

Pilot|Part One

Party's Over, I thought bitterly, the screams of mares and the loud yelling of my clients seemed to die down. My job as the driver wasn't particularly action packed as you'd think, you just sit there and wait until it's over and get the burn fucking rubber like a bat straight outta hell. I tapped the steering wheel impatiently, wishing these two idiots would hurry up.

I decided to go ahead and start the engine, twisting the keys of my black and grey beauty car to life. The soft purr of the car filled my ears, and I took a favor to listening to it because some people don't particularly enjoy the sound of music while they're shooting at coppers, gangsters, or even assassination targets. Shame, the music sounds good to me.

Better than the thunder and rain that Equestria had, it poured like Thor had been crying his eyes out like a angst teenager and I had to swipe the windshield manually by flicking the lever so I don't run the battery by setting it on automatic. It was steadily dropping, just a drizzle now, but I bet you twenty bits that it's going to fucking pour.

My name is Naught Victorian, and I'm pretty sure you've heard of me.

No? Good, because that means I'm a successful crook. Well, crook in a sense as doing jobs to the highest bidder for my services. My services don't go for that high, as I'm usually already stuffing bits into my pockets as my day job as a taxi; but the more bits I put into my pockets, the more my loan shark demands. My night time job is the same, really, except my fees are just ten bits higher and I never saw you and you never saw me.

I leaned on my hoof, my snout pressed against the window. The city of Bombay was glamorous at first glance, but it's even better when you got the amount of bits to fully live the quote on quote Equestrian Dream to the fullest, an from what I've gathered from the those living that dream: Equestrian Dream is about having money, having property, having the hot broads, and being the most powerful over the city.

However, I'm not living that dream. I'm far from it, but I'm so fucking close. I work with the biggest Mafia Families, the Payed Off Politicians, and even employed by some of the world's deadliest hit-colts. I work with these ponies for a good piece of gold in my pocket, and it's completely anonymous with the black tinted windows and my disguises.

I looked in the rear view mirror, and looking past my extremely handsome blue-grey face, there were approaching flashing red lights. I felt my hooves go cold, this was supposed to be a silent job, no fucking alarms. I wasn't being paid enough for this, and I have half a mind about just setting the gear into drive. In fact, I was already about to floor it before the three ponies came out of the front door of the bank. Holding a Tommy Gun, a Trench Shotgun, and the last one holding a pistol that I don't recognize.

Quickly, the ran across the street. One of them limping, from an obvious stab wound in the thigh, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He won't make it, not in this scenario, not in this life time. The other two were assisting him, hoping to keep him on his hooves before he bleeds out. If he bleeds out in my car, I'm taking the cleaning cost as an added expense to my cut.

I was parked in an L shaped alleyway, across the street from the bank and out of sight, between the clinic and the new Veteran's Cigar Bar. I use this style of hiding to keep out of sight, and as a way of escape. As you see, the two buildings have fire exits since they were built under residences. If by any chance we get cornered, we could climb up to the roofs and make our Plan B escape by pretending to be drunks at the Bar or be injured at the Clinic.

However, if things go as plan, we can get out of the alleyway and onto the streets and hightail it out. And given by the sirens of the police, there was no way we can con out of this if we go with Plan A. I plan on outrunning the coppers, they would be paid off by the syndicate anyways since I'm on good terms with the underground. I just need to buy time to get the hell away.

The two and soon-to-be dead pony finally made it into the alleyway, opening the door to my car, and stuffing the hurt guy inside first. I couldn't see them, by the window I had installed to keep my promise of anonymity true. I only knew they shoved the deadpony inside first because of the scent of looming death and blood overwhelmed my nose. I rolled down my window a sliver, just to get air in.

Next came in the other ponies, whom where breathing heavily and their unrecognized languages seemed panicky and frantic. They literally threw the guns into the lap of the dying pony and climbed in, tapping my window heavily with a hoof. I leaned back and bared my teeth, although they can't see it.

"This wasn't part of the deal," I growled, my hoof gripping the steering wheel tightly. I felt the frustration finally reach into my head, these ponies were fucking idiots. I was waiting because there were coppers approaching my exit, they were hauling ass and I need to avoid getting into their line of sight at all costs.

"Drive to hospital, Dio is bleeding back here!" One of the ponies frantically demanded, his hoof still tapping on the glass. I rolled my eyes and looked behind me, although I can only see their silhouettes and I tapped the glass back mockingly. I groaned under my breath and looked outside the window again before focusing on the sirens.

"There's a clinic next door," I retorted, hostility dripping from my throat and words. "If you hurry, you might be able to get there before the coppers have time to surround the place."

The backseat door opens, and I mentally smacked myself in their ignorance.

"Too fucking late, friend," I growled, and their doors closed quickly. "Just wait, keep pressure on his wound, and when I cut the engine, for whatever reason, duck down and keep quiet and still."

"Aye, sir." The other pony said, this pony had a more gruff voice, as if he was coming out of the First Great War.

I saw the black and white police car fly by, and I calmly pushed the pedal, the car slowly accelerating. I turned the steering wheel, the sharp ninety degree angle of brick walls pulling me completely out of sight from the bank across the street. I calmly pulled out of the alleyway, onto the streets and made a right turn, pulling me into the lane directly away from the bank.

The goal was to get the hell out of the mainlands and onto Bombay Beach, which was only a couple of miles if I really gun it, across the highway and make it into the city of Canterlot by boat. In the boat, we'll diverse the bits and they'll disappear into the city of Canterlot. The only problem was time, and I don't plan on taking care of an already doomed pony, the time it takes for the coppers to see my car and the time it takes me to get to Bombay Beach.

I over took a taxi, which meant I got in front of him in a lane, and I stopped at a stoplight. I looked at the red sign, my eyes never leaving it. My heart pounded in my ears but slammed in my stomach, I felt my hooves go cold again, as the tight grip of anxiety held me in a vice. I looked in my mirror, to see the other two preforming first aid of the dying pony. I rolled my eyes.

"He's a lost cause," I commented, looking behind me to look for any coppers. "That ain't gonna heal right if he's lucky."

I heard them possibly swearing at me in their language, I stopped looking out my window when the green light hit my eyes. I had my hind-hoof holding the pedal while my left fore-hoof holding the hoof-brake. I let the brake go and the car went speeding past traffic, my casual motions of turning the wheel to avoid the upcoming cars.

I recommend you play this music for added effect of the upcoming effects.

I floored it, the needle on my miles per hour gauge rising like a Jack-in-a-Box, quickly building my speed as the engine roared. The horse power in this car was phenomenal as far as I seen, I bet this was a newer model engine on an old base; meaning this car was most likely brewed up in a chop shop.

I grabbed the hoof-brake and turned the steering wheel left, making a sharp left turn away from the bank. I quickly realized that I wasn't far enough to car about street traffic laws, and time was quickly running ahead of me. I slammed by hoof into the brake, preventing that I lose control before I spin out, I let go of the hoof-brake and placed the pedal to the metal.

The street ahead of me had two left turns, which will bring me nowhere. A right turn that will lead to a dead-end of construction galore, and a Royal Guard station. I gunned it straight, dodging cars with ease; blaring my horn so they would realize I'm not in a mood to be in a crash and compare insurance.

This entire fucking block either leads me to a circle or to construction.

The end of the straight road, I swerved right, off road, and slammed into a fence, toppling it, and almost lost control; I slammed on the brakes and stabilized my car. I felt the car screech across the street as it built up speed but little acceleration, I turned the steering wheel right and dislodged the presumed fence out of my tire rim.

I was in the lot for the Royal Guards' Police Station, with police-colts quickly jumping into their cars and flared their lights on first before igniting the criminal's worst tune.

The police sirens flared up, loudly they rang in my ears and the sounds only got louder as I quickly made my way out of the lot and back onto the road, smashing another gate in the process. I knew the sirens were after me by now, and pulling over now only meant certain jail. I floored the pedal, my foot never hitting the slab of rough textured steel so hard in m life; I practically bucked it to speed.

I heard the sounds of tires screeching onto the road, I took mental note of an approximation of how many cars where metaphorically attached to my bumper. The Royal Guards where blowing their whistles, flaring up their horns, and screaming over the microphone that I stop the car or lethal force will be authorized. I grit my teeth, holding the wheel tighter, focusing on the road again.

The ponies behind me flared up their magic, which led me to believe they were Unicorns. The ponies seemed to coat themselves in magic, which was really bright that I saw it through the black window separating us. The unicorns leaned out the window and held their pieces out, one of them holding a Tommy Gun, and the other one with a Trench Shotgun.

The bullets peppered the hood and windshield of the first copper's car, blood splattering across the glass; The copper's car spun out into a group of teenagers, injuring or killing the group. I nearly swerved as they fired the first shot, this was definitely not part of the plan. I would gladly go down for being an accomplice to robbery and to felony evading, but a fucking death of a copper was way too high above my pay grade. Especially the deaths or injuries of those under the age of eighteen, I would go down for life.

And the life in prison as a cop killer is nothing to be proud of, and I can expect beatings and being fucked over (literally and metaphorically) by everyone in that fucking place.

I looked to my right too see the freeway, and I made the sharp turn, my entire attention on making sure we were not being shot up or the gas tank being shot and we go out in a hellish ball of flame. I slid a little, but I quickly accelerated onto the road. The coppers, probably confused by this action by such a pro like me, sped past the turn and had a collision with an unfortunate bus.

The rest of the coppers in the back of the formation quickly regained their hold on me, and I was pelted with revolver fire that threatened the back of my head; the bullets ended up taking both windows out, successfully cracked my windshield, and shot off the head of my seat. Luckily I ducked fast enough, but the dying pony wasn't so lucky, as he propped his head up and got popped to the side of the head.

I smashed my hoof into the windshield and and cleared the cracked glass away, my hoof getting cut from the fragments but I have better things to worry about that cuts. Like a bullet to in between my ears, for example. I drove up, speeding ahead from the coppers, and in a moment that I'll never pull off again, I swung my car around with a combination of the hoof-brake and the wheel, I reached under my seat for my snubbed off revolver and fired into the engines and tires of the coppers.

The collided with each other, the entire formation faltering. I felt a sharp, white hot needle like pain hit me in the stomach, and that gave me the incentive to quickly spin my car back around. I looked in the rear view mirror to see what had shot me and I felt all blood escape from my body in a metaphorical sense.

It looked like we were in the clear, until I got shot in the stomach by a lucky shot.

One blue and black car, blaring the copper horn and the red lights flashing directly out of the windshield. I almost recognized the car immediately, as this car was the bane of my existence for a long time. The driver was the Federal Detective, Shining Armor, assigned on my case of fraud and multiple crimes. He's not entirely interested in me, but interested enough to be a thorn in my fucking ass.

Shining Armor leaned out the car, with his snub revolver, and started firing into the back of my car. I swerved, to avoid being shot, and slowed down intentionally, then slammed the side of my car into the unicorn's car. Shining Armor didn't spin, but he surely did feel that, I accelerated to avoid being shot again or my tires being shot.

The other two were trying to end Shining Armor by lighting up his windshield, however, the Detective had lit up a deflecting shield across the hood and windows. Rendering their guns useless unless they shoot his tanker, and I doubt they have the aim for that.

The road elevated as we got onto the highway, less cars in our way and all the road to speed up. I gunned it, shifting my entire weight forwards so I can fully concentrate on the road. The car speeding up, and Shining Armor slowly loosing his gain on us. Quickly as the world outside the car become a blur as we reached top speeds of one hundred and three miles per hours (103 m/ph), and lost all hope of being able to handle the car.

We were above Bombay Beach, which in the rain looked nothing like the brochure. There was an ocean, and a beach, and a pier with a couple of fishing boats with mortars, and sand. Not enough to talk about, or say about Bombay Beach: it was a beach you either go to or you don't. It was that simple.

I held my belly, keeping blood inside for as long as I can. I've been shot before, a heist gone wrong all the time or a drive by, I've seen my fair share of bullets when I was sixteen. Now that I'm eighteen, I can finally drink my problems away with illegal and possibly counterfeit alcohol. Yeah, that'll do the trick.

I flew off the exit, literally bouncing off the road and off of the road. It didn't seem like a killing drop, but if it gets me away from that fucking detective; by all means, give me wings and let me fly. I let go of the wheel while I was air born and tightly held the back of my neck, making sure it doesn't break when we land on the ground.

Shining Armor couldn't keep up with me, and he had to stop.

Good for me.

Well, good until the car stopped.

I turned the car over and over, but it just wouldn't start. I coughed, blood landing on my dashboard, and I internally screamed. I turned over to the door and bashed it open, as the door was dented in from the collision with Shining. I held my abdomen tightly, it was like stabbing pain that bullet was. Revolvers fucking suck to shoot, but it sucks even worse to be shot by a revolver.

I hopped out of the car, I wasn't wearing any formal clothes, so I had to reach in the car and pulled out duct tape. I taped the wound closed, and it would stay like that for a while. Until I can get to Redheart and get patched up, it would cost a pretty bit but it's a better cost than for my funeral.

I saw the other two unicorns kick their door open, stepping outside almost unscathed. They simply straightened out their tuxedos and looked at me with the most condescending look I've ever seen. Like they couldn't believe I literally drove off of a fucking highway, or is still alive with a bullet wound and a drop of probably certain death.

"Hnng..." I moaned in pain, clutching my stomach. "C'mon, ditch the car. Get the loot and to the boat, let's go."

The unicorns simply obeyed, and a little more by lighting a cigarette and the entire car on fire. The had their two large sack of bits, which had to range around three thousand to ten thousand dollars. I dug into my cutie mark pouch and pulled out a cigarette box, taking a cigarette and lighting it with my on lighter.

I blew out the smoke, the now pouring rain somehow making the fire even angrier. I stopped questioning logic and turned around, leading the way onto the stairs of the pier. The pier was filled with vendors galore, and that was about it as far as I cared, to be honest I was more concerned about getting my bits and getting the fuck out of dodge.

We reached the pier docks, and that's where I started to suspect something was not right. This was way too easy, the coppers don't usually give up like this. They never do, and Shining Armor damn sure doesn't just stop because I start flying off the road. I twitched my ears, as the pending doom looms over me as I felt the suspense build up on my chest.

I turned around quickly, with my revolver raised and I was met with a bullet to the shoulder and close to the hip, both of them concealing police models of long barrel revolvers. I fell after the second shot, onto the boat and exposed to the rain. I had my eyes clenched close in pain, and when I opened them: the world was blurry except for the multiple police-colts with shotguns and Tommy guns surrounding me.

I was fucking betrayed.

"Naught Victorian," the first traitor called, "You're under arrest for multiple felonies and criminal activities."

"F... hnng..." I was in so much pain. "Fuck you, fuck you and you're entire family, hhnng... bloody hell..."

And then there he was, Shining Armor with the biggest shit eating grin I have ever seen in my life. I looked around and had to figure out the hard way that my gun had fallen into the ocean, along with my hopes of getting out of this situation alive.

"You have the right to shut the fuck up," Shining Armor popped me in the other shoulder, which burned hotter than any stove that exists in the god damn world.

I gasped.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in your own funeral," Shining said, which made all the other crooked cops chortle and snort like the pigs they are.

"Do you know what little time thugs like you get?"

I wheezed.

Then, everything around me just stopped.

Pilot|Part Two

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