Ask Mafia Octavia, Act 2: The Sounds of Chaos

The dark sky flashed with lightning, illuminating the dark back alley for but a brief moment before unrelenting darkness obscured the scene once more. However, this brief moment was enough to show the white, unicorn mare as she made a mad dash through the abandoned halls that were the maze of back alleys that wove in and out of each of Ponyville’s city blocks. Suddenly, she tripped and fell face first into a dark, stinky puddle that the mare was certain wasn’t just water from the sheets of rain falling from the warring heavens up above. Come on, Vinyl. she screamed in her head, Move! Finally picking herself up, she once again began her panicked flight down the alley, the sound of her pursuer’s hoofbeats behind her. Vinyl Scratch’s wide, panic-filled scarlet eyes scanning the walls for something, anything that could aid her escape from the gun-wielding pony pursuing her. She dashed around a corner only to have her heart sink as she stared directly at a grey cement wall, covered in graffiti and ragged prohibition and propaganda posters. Heart pounding, Vinyl spun around and made an attempt to backtrack and find another way out of the alleys and onto the main road to freedom, only to have all her vain hopes dashed as her pursuer rounded the corner a second later. “Sorry kid, but its curtains for you.” said the shadowy pony, leveling her large handgun at the panting, terrified mare’s chest. “Any last words?” She asked, pulling back the hammer on her gun. Vinyl’s only response was to back away slowly, eyes pleading to Celestia, Luna, hell, even Discord to get her out of this situation, but no help came, no knight in shining armor, no random passerby, no champion of justice showed themselves to the panic-stricken DJ as her eyes zeroed in on the weapon that would very soon end her. “If you’ve got nothing to say, then I guess this is goodbye. Its nothing personal, just business.” The shadowy mare stated matter-of-factly, “see you in hell, kid.” said the mare, squeezing the trigger as lightning once again illuminated her features: light turquoise coat, with topaz eyes and a white-and-green mane. Time seemed to slow for Vinyl Scratch as she took in everything and nothing at the same time: the click of the hammer striking the bullet, the resulting explosion, the bloody glee on the face of her killer, and the hammer blow to the chest as the bullet severed her aorta, causing a large, red rose to bloom on Vinyl’s shirt, eyes widening as the bullet lodged itself next to her still frantically beating heart as it attempted to continue functioning. Somepony…. Anypony…. please… Tavi… help… and suddenly the world went black as the sound of thunder covered any evidence of Vinyl Scratch’s demise.

Octavia Melody woke with a start, throwing off her covers, eyes wide reaching for the cello case which contained her trusty tommy gun, only to find that it was nowhere to be found. Panicking, she frantically took cover behind her bed frame as the incessant rapping on the door to the room continued. Finally calming down and remembering that she was in the guest room in the Orange family’s estate in Manehattan, she let out the breath she’d been holding for the past minute. Stifling a yawn, she walked up to the door and opened it slowly, “Yes? What is it?” she asked sheepishly, remembering the noise she had just made, opened the door to find a dapper older unicorn stallion in a tuxedo jacket carrying a tea service in his magic. He bowed, “Good Morning, Ms. Melody. My name is Byrne, the estate’s caretaker. I have been instructed to inform you that you are to make yourself ready, and to meet Mistress Orange in the parlor. I shall be waiting outside your door to escort you.” He said in a perfect British accent, bowing again, he started down the hall again, walking on his hind legs muttering to himself about where that child Babs had gotten to again.

Octavia closed the door and slumped against it, heaving a heavy sigh while rubbing between her eyes, trying to separate her most recent nightmare from her current reality. Vinyl was safe, she had to be. Octavia had given Lyra and Bonbon what they wanted to know, and the whole Flim Flam gang thought she was in he bottom of Manehattan harbor, “sleeping with the fishes” as it were. There’s no reason for them to go after her Octavia, she knows nothing and they know that they can't hurt a “dead” pony. Right now I should take things one step at a time, meet with the Oranges and face whatever punishment the family gives me. At least they can’t kill me, I am ‘dead’ after all. Finding her clothes on a table next to the large window, Octavia stepped into the shower again.

Stepping into the hall, fully dressed in her dress shirt, trench coat, and fedora, Octavia stepped out into the hall where Byrne was waiting. It had taken longer than she expected to get ready, what with the voices in her head asking questions, and her unruly black mane still stiff from her not-so-pleasant midnight swim in Manehattan harbor. Her eyes had been red and puffy for some reason, as if she had been crying all night. Although, given her nightmare and the night she’d had, Octavia could overlook the temporary moment of weakness as she needed to put on her best Hit-mare mask that she’d forgotten she was wearing until last night. Recent events had crumbled it slightly, but her time in the bath and copious amounts of moisturizing shampoo had given her the time needed to mend it again.

With a single nod as greeting to Byrne they both set off for the parlor and Octavia’s uncertain future.

On the way to the parlor, Octavia could make out two heated voices coming from the parlor. As they entered through the large double doors, a scowling Madame Orange was ordering a pony with a dark grey coat out of the room. Byrne cleared his throat, “Mistress Orange, Octavia Melody has arrived to join you for the morning tea.” He said, bowing as he quietly slipped out, not so much as a whisper of noise as his large frame exited the room.

“That is quite the capable caretaker you have, Mrs. Orange.” Octavia remarked, if she hadn’t seen him leave, she would have thought he was still standing right behind her.

“Yes, he was actually a special-forces pony during the war, you see. Not so much as an unnecessary whisper with that one.” said Mrs. Orange, instantly regaining her composure from her previous ruffled state. “Not only does he keep our secrets Miss Melody, he is also a most capable enforcer should we ever have need of one.”

Octavia suppressed a shudder as the thinly-veiled threat seemed to drop the opulent parlor’s temperature by ten degrees, Mrs. Orange’s pale blue eyes seeming to bore deeply into the former musician’s soul and lay coiled there, like some venomous serpent. “I guess looks can be deceiving then.” Octavia said, choosing her words wisely, as much to change the subject as anything else, she asked “Where is Mr. Orange? I was under the impression that we were to be discussing matters of the Family right now.”

“My husband is… indisposed at the moment” Madame Orange replied after a short pause, “he’s currently off conducting some business at another location, but enough of that, I’ve called you down for tea and business, not for dealing with my husband’s itinerary.” she said, gesturing towards the silver platter with fine china cups and a stout teapot, steam was still swirling out of the spout.

After serving the tea, both Octavia and Mrs. Orange sat down in their respective plush chairs and began to sip their tea. “Is it to your liking Miss Melody?” The pale orange mare inquired, her face betraying nothing, other than the fact that she had visibly relaxed. However, her eyes still had the same soul-piercing quality they had before. “It’s delicious,” replied Octavia, taking another sip from her pale cup, the scent of peppermint and cloves dancing through her nostrils. “Did you make this?” asked Octavia, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m afraid that I can’t take credit for this concoction Miss Melody, yet another of Byrne’s works. He refuses to share the recipe with anyone.” Octavia said nothing as she inhaled slowly and took another sip, the herbal tea both soothing her and warming her insides. “Does he have a name for this blend?” Octavia asked.

“Yes, I believe he called it: Death’s Embrace number five when I last asked him.” Replied Mrs. Orange, “hardly a fitting name for tea, but one can’t argue with the result.” Octavia once again suppressed a shudder and took another sip, her hoof shaking slightly as she bought the warm cup of Death’s Embrace to her lips.

When the two mares had finished their tea, and Byrne had ghosted in and out with the tray, Madame Orange turned to face Octavia directly. “Now then Miss Melody, I’m sure that you're aware that you’ve fallen somewhat out of favor with our Apple family counterparts in Ponyville. Luckily for you however, Applejack has seen fit to give you a second chance given the fact that we may need some, how did she put it? ‘Help from beyond the grave’?”

Madame Orange flashed a cold smirk at her own joke, “The point being this: thanks to the information you leaked to the Flim Flam gang, they now have a stranglehold on all the major smuggling routes that our Apple counterparts use to move their cider. Not only that, but every major member of Jack’s people are being targeted by Flim and Flam’s lieutenants, two of which I believe you are already acquainted with, am I correct?” Lyra and Bonbon, Octavia’s grip on the chair tightened.

“And now we return to the matter at hand Miss Melody, your future.” Said Madame Orange, snapping the grey mare out of her daze. “Applejack has asked that we provide a ‘ghost’ of sorts, a seemingly neutral third party to target the lieutenants of their rivals, the deal is simple: we have Byrne train you, and in return you will assist us by ridding the underworld of these unprofessional ruffians that dare encroach on our territory.” Madame Orange said, her voice dripping with venom.

“I take it that Jack’s not the only one with Flim Flam problems then?” Octavia replied, suddenly feeling very uneasy around the orange-hued mare whose eyes gave off an aura of pure bloodlust at that moment.

“Yes, Miss Melody, their ambition threatens us as well, so we are more than happy in lending a helping hoof to protect this particular investment.” An investment, how cold of you, Madame Orange. Octavia thought as she nodded slowly, keeping her mouth shut so that her hostess’ now apparent bloodthirsty nature wouldn’t be directed at her.

“I understand ma’am, when do we begin?” Octavia asked as soon as Mrs. Orange had regained her composure once again, “why, right now of course!” She said, gesturing with a hoof, ”Byrne, if you would be so kind.”

Octavia didn’t even hear the stallion enter the room, or even a whisper as the hypodermic needle entered her neck and injected its contents into her bloodstream. “Sweet dreams, Miss Melody.” Said Madame Orange as Octavia began to lose consciousness, the room fading into a blur of colors, “you’re going to need to hang onto those while Byrne is busy with you.” And with that, Octavia passed out.

**************************************Three Months Later***************************************

Vinyl Scratch flew through the air and landed on her back on the hard concrete floor with a sickening thud, knocking the wind out of her. It had been three months since she had begun her training in the less subtle arts of being a bootlegger under Lyra and Bonbon’s teachings. Three months since her once best friend had tried to kill her. As Vinyl scrambled to get up, her assailant’s hoof gave her a swift kick in her side before stepping on the winded mare’s chest and placing a wooden combat knife against her neck. “Dead again.” Remarked Bonbon, not even a trickle of emotion in her cold voice as she helped her student off the floor.

“Oh come on, Scratch! Why are you so weak?” exclaimed Lyra as she hopped off the shipping crate she had been perched on during Vinyl’s regularly scheduled beatdown that somehow qualified as ‘training’ in the eyes of the somewhat trigger-happy turquoise mare. “What the hell do you plan to do once Octavia finds you huh? Just roll over and die? Or are you gonna run and hide in another alley, like when I found you hiding behind a trash can? Make no mistake, Octavia won’t hesitate to kill anyone, even her mare-friend if she’s a liability! In this world, liabilities are just as good as a giant ‘shoot me!’ plastered to your chest!” ranted Lyra, leaning in until she was just inches from the white mare’s muzzle, “Don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Hesitate and you’re dead, simple as that.”

“Don’t you think I know that!?” Vinyl screamed, her body trembling in rage, “don’t you think I don't still have nightmares about that day!? When I learned that my best friend was out to kill me!? AND USED HERSELF AS BAIT!?” Lyra back-hoofed her, “what are you going to do about it then? When she comes for you, you can’t afford to do anything half-assed! Mess up once and Octavia will kill you for it! So I’ll ask you again: WHAT. WILL. YOU. DO.”

“I’ll end her,”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lyra said, leaning in again,

“I’ll kill that bitch! I’ll end her just like she tried to end me! I’ll kill her with my own hooves!” Vinyl shouted, rubbing her sore cheek and glaring up at her mentor, “Then prove it,” Lyra said, handing her the wooden knife again, “try to kill me then, if you think you’re hard enough” Vinyl lunged as soon as the knife was in her grasp, aiming for the other mare’s jugular vein, Lyra smirked and suddenly, Vinyl found herself on the ground again, gasping for breath.

“Is that all you’ve got? You’ll make this too easy for Octavia, you might as well handcuff yourself to a bed frame for old times’ sake and make it easier for her!” Lyra said, sneering at the downed unicorn.

“SHUT UP!” Vinyl screamed, lunging again, launching a flurry of wild stabs and cuts, Vinyl was going to shut her up if it was the last thing she did. No, not the last thing I do, she thought as she continued her assault on her mentor, Lyra isn’t worth that, the last thing I’ll do… is kill Octavia!

Suddenly, it was as if the world went still, Vinyl’s rage seemed to fade into the background and she saw everything, Lyra herself looked as if she was moving through honey.

Vinyl’s mind went cold and she knew what to do to win.

Vinyl sliced the air with her knife, she knew that Lyra would duck under it, and that’s when she struck. Dropping low, Vinyl swept her hind leg into Lyra’s now off-balance back hooves, causing the turquoise mare to fall backwards, hitting her head on the edge of the same shipping crate that she had been sitting on earlier. Struggling to retain consciousness, Lyra began to stagger to her her hooves when she felt something placed against her neck and a cold, calculated voice that cut through the daze better than a knife: “dead”.

Lyra grinned as she looked up at her student, Vinyl’s scarlet eyes were cold, hard, and filled with bloodlust, not a hint of an emotion on her face as she waited for Lyra to submit. Lyra grinned, “Good, you’re ready” and with that, Vinyl’s murderous expression faded and she smiled, helping Lyra to her hooves.

“Welcome to the Flim Flam gang, rookie.”

Vinyl scrunched her nose as the foul stench of tobacco smoke hit her nose. Today was finally the day she would be meeting her new bosses, the Flim Flam brothers. She had heard stories of their ruthlessness and lack of restraint when someone crossed them, and what she witnessed in the dark room in the back of one of the brothers’ speakeasies served as a grim reminder of that fact. Tied up in the corner, was a bloody, yellow-coated stallion in a brown leather jacket and wearing a worn stetson on his head, One of his eyes was swollen shut and he had cuts and bruises all over his yellow coat.

“Hey Scratch, you coming?” asked Lyra, tapping Vinyl’s shoulder and snapping the white mare back into reality. “The bosses are waiting,” she said, gesturing to another door on the other side of the room which was guarded by a bored-looking burly earth pony wielding a sawed-off shotgun. Taking a glance back at the bound and gagged prisoner, Vinyl followed Lyra into the next room.

If the smell of tobacco was simply unpleasant in the room before this one, this room was absolutely unbearable. Vinyl had to fight back a gag as both she and Lyra entered the room that was tinged blue through the haze of cigar smoke, the two perpetrators of this blatant disregard for air purity sat in wooden chairs at the other end of a large, round table littered with discarded playing cards. A large handgun was resting on the table next to its owner Flim, the younger of the brothers. His elder brother Flam, sat across from him, his straw showpony’s hat covering his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, puffing his cigar while his ever-present BAR machine gun leaned against the wall behind him.

“Is this the new rookie you told us about Lyra?” Asked Flim, leaning forward to take a closer look through the haze of cigar smoke.

“Yes boss, this is Vinyl Scratch, she’s a little green, but she’s trained and ready,” replied Lyra.

“What do you think, brother?” asked Flim, the Elder stallion raised his hat with one hoof, regarding Vinyl with a look that suddenly made her feel very uncomfortable in her own skin. Almost as if he was deciding how best to dissect her. His piercing gaze swept over her, finally focusing on her shades that might as well have not been on her face at all. Grinning toothily, Flam nodded, stroking the mass of red hair on his upper lip, “gotta say, Lyra knows how to pick ‘em.” He said, his expression suddenly as jovial as his brother’s. “That settles it,” said Flim, “you’re hired!” finished Flam. Vinyl released the breath she didn’t realize that she had been holding. Lyra patted her protégé on the back, “I knew you had it in ya! Not everyone gets outright approval from the boss before their first job!” Vinyl blinked, confused as to what had just happened. This situation was drastically different from the tales of the ruthless mob bosses that had been terrorizing Ponyville ever since the prohibition started, the stories of what the two grinning unicorn stallions had supposedly done to those who got too close to them was enough to give Vinyl nightmares on her train ride to the small town during her search for her once-best friend. The smiling group of ponies in the room with her didn’t seem like a band of murderous bootleggers. But rather, a family who had just shared a funny story.

“I’d say that this is cause for a drink!” said Flam, grinning at his brother as he rolled a keg over from a corner of the room. “Don’t be shy, have some FlimFlam brand cider on the house!” both brothers said in unison.

The revelries didn’t last very long however, because not long after the third pint of cider had made its way down the throats of the four unicorns, that a large boom shook the building, followed by a brief, but unmistakeable chatter of a Thomson submachine gun.

Suddenly, all was silent, all four revelers glanced at each other, each frozen in place by the sudden interruption to their race to the bottom of the keg. “What the hay was that!?” exclaimed Lyra, drawing her revolver, swaying as the effects of the cider took hold. Steadying herself, Vinyl dashed for the door, only to find a room completely different than what it was before.

The previously smoky room had once been a scene of barely maintained order now looked as if Discord himself had coaxed a tornado through it, resulting in the back wall being blown inward in what had been a cascade of scorched wood, brick, and plaster, the burly guard that had been stationed outside the door was now a corpse, completely riddled with bullet holes. In place of the stallion that had previously been tied up, was a pile of cut up rope fragments and a small white calling card that read in silvery script: Courtesy of Windigo.

“Lyra,” said a new voice, shattering the silence, the one word dripping with enough venom to make a cobra jealous, “find whoever did this, drag their corpse back to us if you have to, but make sure that they regret their decision to cross us.” Flam said.

“A-and the escaped prisoner?” Vinyl asked, not sure she wanted to hear their reply.

“Expendable,” both brothers said in unison.

“Understood,” said Lyra, grinning with a savage glee as she raised her revolver, and a pair of slim, silvery handguns which she tossed to Vinyl. “Come on, kid!” Lyra said, eyes flashing like a filly who was just about to tear into her Hearts Warming presents, “We have a ghost to catch!”

Vinyl Scratch took one last, long look at the bullet-ridden corpse of what had once been a living, breathing pony before following after her mentor at a fast gallop through the still-smoking hole in the wall and out into the back alleys of Ponyville.

Braeburn Apple struggled to keep up with his rescuer, despite the fact that she was only walking. He could tell that the masked pony in front of him was female from her build, but that was all he could glean from his cursory glances at her. Everything about this mysterious mare was covered up, aside from her mane, all body parts that could have been used to identify his savior were covered either by the trench coat and hat she wore, or the obviously enchanted white mask, whose eye holes were glowing with a blue eldritch glow which obscured her eyes and made her look rather intimidating. Not only that, but she never made a sound when she moved, traveling as nothing more than a whisper. Sometimes she would disappear from Braeburn’s field of view entirely, causing the battered stallion to frantically search his surroundings, only to turn and find the masked mare standing right next to him, head cocked to the side as if examining a specimen on a microscope slide. This always succeeded in making Braeburn increasingly uneasy around the mare in the white mask.

“You know,” Braeburn said nervously, “I like a midnight stroll with a fine lady like yourself as much as the next stallion, but some reciprocated conversation would be greatly appreciated ma’am.” The mare just turned and stared at him, she may not have said anything, but the message was clear: shut. up.

Braeburn just swallowed dryly and complied.

They trotted along down the dark back alleys of Ponyville for a time, Braeburn couldn’t tell how long, until they reached a large sewer covering, the large metal plate was already moved to the side. “Through here,” the mare said, her mask distorting her voice, causing it to have a strange, ethereal quality to it. “The Apple family will be waiting down that tunnel, just keep walking until you see the grate. And take this,” She said, handing the confused stallion a small emergency flare, “light it when you reach the rendezvous point.” She said, beckoning him to jump into the tunnel.

“What about you, miss?” The yellow stallion called back as he was halfway down the tunnel entrance. The only reply he received was the sound of a large metal plate sliding into place. “Well, she’s a cheerful one…” Braeburn muttered as he started down the tunnel to freedom.

Octavia Melody heaved a sigh of relief, she was finally alone. Putting on the whole “cryptic savior” act that she was ordered to put on along with her mask was more exhausting than she had expected. Applejack had said it was for disguising who she was, especially now that her usefulness only lasted as long as the façade of Octavia Melody being among the deceased. After all, dead mares tell no tales.

Nor do they go around masquerading in a trench coat, blowing up mafia hideouts and saving hostages for their secret mafia boss. Octavia thought, allowing herself a rare smile at the absurdity of her situation.

The past three months had not been easy, Byrne was a harsh teacher, as soon as Octavia had woken up from her drug-induced slumber in what would be her home, dojo, and torture chamber for three months. The once soft-spoken butler had begun to push her beyond all physical and mental limits, not shying away from punctuating his verbal lessons with more... physical ones. All throughout her training, the voices in her head had never stopped, sometimes giving her warnings in combat, sometimes asking her about what she was thinking, sometimes tormenting her with existential crisis bull that she swore they likely ripped from a sappy crime novel, but they had never stopped.

Even now they were still buzzing in her skull, asking about her escape plans, pressuring her for info on what her job entailed, telling her to get a move on before the Flim Flam pursuers caught up to her, constantly rattling through her mind-

ENOUGH! Octavia mentally kicked herself for dwelling on such things, Byrne had taught her better than that.

Thinking about the voices only made them louder, but they did have a good point: she needed to make herself scarce before whatever pursuers that had been sent caught up to her and made the horrible mistake of trying to apprehend their quarry.

With that thought, Octavia began her long, roundabout dash back to her own escape route, blending with the shadows as easily as one could slip in and out of their favorite jacket. That was one aspect of her training that she always appreciated, becoming the Apple family’s pet ghost had its advantages. With a final grin, The Windigo of the Apple family vanished like smoke into the night.

*************************************Back At Sweet Apple Acres****************************************

Applejack slammed her hoof down on the desk, causing the old wood to groan in the process. She was currently staring daggers at the cringing yellow stallion who was currently trying to hide behind his battered hat before the enraged Don of the Apple family. “Damn it Braeburn! You nearly got yourself killed! And for what? So y’all can party in Appaloosa for a while? Explain yourself, NOW.” Applejack said, slamming her hoof on the protesting desk again, drawing another cringe from her irresponsible cousin.

Octavia stifled a snicker at the panicked stallion’s reaction to her boss, it was funny, that much was certain, but it would be a poor showing if the “Windigo” of the Apple family, their top agent and enforcer to start breaking out in hysterics during a sit-down with a troublesome member of the family, even though she wished she could have a picture of Braeburn’s face at that moment.

“N-now see here Jack, I wasn’t expecting no trouble in Appaloosa, we own most of the town and all…” Braeburn stammered, but was cut off by another slam on Applejack’s desk. Octavia could swear she heard the old timbers crack at the sheer force of Applejack’s hoof. “I don’t care about excuses, Braeburn! You know better than to jus’ run off out into the open like that! If Windigo hadn’t found you when she did, what do y’all think woulda’ happened to you!?” Braeburn raised a hoof to reply, but Applejack cut him off again, “dead, that’s what! Y’all would’ve been interrogated and then dumped into the nearest lake with a block of cement tied to you!”

Octavia winced inwardly at the mention of the mafia’s preferred method of a “disappearing act” that usually proved all too effective, usually. Octavia was likely one of the only exceptions to survive that experience, but that didn’t mean she would wish it on anyone, even the idiot sitting in front of her enraged boss would probably be spared that fate if Octavia was told to make him disappear.

“As of right now, you are to stay here DO NOT go anywhere outside the house, understand?” Braeburn only nodded and dejectedly exited the room, suddenly finding the floor to be very interesting to look at.

Applejack took a deep, calming breath, “you can take off that mask now, sugar cube.” Applejack said, gesturing to the now freshly-vacated seats in front of the highly-abused desk. Octavia complied, lifting the white mask off her face, revealing once again her violet eyes and grey coat.

Setting the terrifying disguise down on the desk, Octavia sat in the chair opposite to her boss. Ever since becoming the nameless ghost of the Apple family, Octavia had only taken orders from Applejack, as only she, her sister Applebloom, Big Macintosh, and the mysterious “Smith” that seemed to be the real brains behind the Apple family business knew that Octavia Melody was still among the living. Any information on her involvement in Apple family affairs was kept strictly confidential, and leaked only on a need-to-know basis. In this case, there had been no choice in the matter as Jack had wanted Braeburn returned alive, anything else was simply collateral damage.

A long, weary sigh once again broke the silence of Applejack’s office, Octavia snapped out of her thoughts to focus once more on Jack, what she saw in place of the feared and respected Don of the notorious Apple family was a weary, overworked mare who simply needed some rest from whatever stress was eating away at her. “Good work tonight, Windigo.” Applejack said, turning to face her subordinate, “I see the mask Zecora made you works well.” she continued, tapping on the wooden face in front of her.

“The clairvoyance enchantment on it helps quite a bit, as does the voice change that comes with it.” Octavia replied, glancing at the unsightly piece of painted wood with disgust, “I just wish it wasn’t so…demonic.”

Applejack chuckled, “That’s to be expected when the only non-unicorn magic user is allowed to make a mask from scratch and told to make it look as spooky as possible, I guess.”

The zebra in question was a mare by the name of Zecora, who by all accounts, was a rather odd pony. For one thing, she lived deep in the forest on the outskirts of Ponyville, living mostly off the land in what had to be one of the most inhospitable areas in the region. She was also highly eccentric, always speaking in rhyme with her strange accent. Finally, she was the only non-unicorn capable of performing high-level enchantments, no one knew how she did it, but her enchantments could put most unicorn magic students to shame. Zecora was someone almost everyone knew about, but never bought up. But for those who sought her out, she was always ready to lend out her services… for a price, but it was typically a high price to pay. Octavia didn’t know what the Apples had paid for her obviously costly mask, but she knew that it was also better not to ask.

“Although…” Jack said, allowing her voice to trail off, “mind tellin’ me where y’all got those demolition charges you used? I know we didn’t give you any.” Ponyfeathers! Octavia swore inwardly, forcing a smile she replied, “dead mares tell no tales, boss. Besides, it’s better this way, the cops will be launching an investigation into the pub that I kindly opened the door for. Flam and Flam won’t be getting any more profits from there ever again.”

Applejack chucked again, “I guess I can’t trouble the dead for their secrets, just as long as they don’t cause trouble for the livin’.” she mused, “as to where y’all set the charges, I’m guessin’ the mask told ya’?” Applejack asked, “Yes, it’s actually more handy than I thought.” It was true, the clairvoyance enchantment highlighted anything the wearer wanted to see, as well as granting perfect night vision. Enemy vitals, locations of disguised entrances, structural weaknesses, et cetera. It was truly the perfect assassin’s weapon, which made Octavia hate it even more.

That was another truth she could always count on to help keep her partially sane in her new world filled with blood money and guns: she hated everything about it. She would rather just play her cello for all to hear in the nearest local pub, but that was no longer an option with the prohibition, and with no other job skills, a decent honest living became nigh impossible for a single mare whose special talent was music.

She would have left her current occupation a long time ago if it didn’t pay so well and the fact that disobeying the Don can, and will, be very bad for one’s health. And now Octavia Melody was permanently submerged in the criminal underworld as the Windigo, a name that would soon strike fear into the hearts of ponies everywhere, and would appear at the top of every hit list. She couldn’t leave, couldn’t make a sound, and couldn’t erase the blood on her hooves. She was expected to stay in her crypt until she was summoned again by the Apples.

Octavia Melody was dead to the world, and she hated every moment of it.

Author's Note

Aaaaaaaand scene!

There you have it my little bronies, the beginning of the main story of Mafia Octavia!

And yes, Octavia basically just became pony-mafia-batmare, what of it?

As always, please leave your constructive criticism down below, like, follow, et cetera!