Pizza, Liquor & Lead

Nine months later…

When Kure first set foot on equestrian soil, he was shocked by how busy things could be. Granted, things back in griffonstone could get quite hectic, but the sheer scale of the port of Barrel Bay was leagues above anything back home. And he didn’t have to wander far from the docks to secure employment in that new, strange land.

Tending to all the visiting cargo vessels of both sea and air was neither glamorous nor easy, but for a bird who preferred physical labor over anything sedentary, it was a decent way to get started out with some coin. Just as he’d expected, when it was work time, dallying wasn’t tolerated by the harbor masters, but unlike all the other menial jobs he’d worked in Griffonstone, workers were not only paid handsomely in comparison but were also more than permitted to take a load off and have fun passing the time as they saw fit.

It was a good arrangement, Kure usually thought at the end of his dayshift. He never expected things to go so smoothly, but like many of his kin he wasn’t one to second guess good fortune. And it looked like that fortune smiled that evening as some setting sun was peeking through the low hanging clouds, which worked to stave off the impending rains just a little bit longer.

Kure landed in the little plaza in front of his brownstone apartment block about five minutes later, not much worse for wear. The odd sprinkle the city by the sea was known for was thankfully light that day, just enough to allow safe travel through the sky and his jacket kept him mostly dry through it all.

He was immediately aware that he was not alone, and sure enough a group of five smartly dressed equines stepped out of the central gazebo and beelined their way towards him, fanning out as they approached. Kure didn’t need to look behind himself to know more were approaching behind as they had never bothered to mask their hooffalls, and wingbeats not his own drew his eyes to the sky. Two pegasi were lazily circling at rooftop level, also ready to cut off any aerial escape.

The one in the middle of the forward group with a low-brimmed hat atop a black-maned head and a sprig of grass sticking out the side of a red muzzle, Kure could more than guess was the leader of the outfit. Once within spitting distance, they all stopped and he callously spat the sprig to the side and addressed the griffon.

“Well, lookit what the cat dragged in.”

Kure bristled. It wasn’t just the fact that his street smarts informed him that this was more than a stick-up, but that the voice was so annoyingly laced with malevolence that it made his hide crawl. But still, a nonviolent resolution was preferable to whatever those goons otherwise had in mind, even if the die was already cast.

“Can I help you fellas out?”

The leader cocked his head up, revealing a squared-off face which was every bit as smug and arrogant as his tone suggested. He openly sneered at the diversion and carried on with the planned discussion.

“Word on the wire is that you’ve been messin’ around a bit.”

Prostitutes.

The insinuation was enough for Kure’s brain to start piecing things together. It was no secret that he liked to mingle with the mares of the night, but that was mostly between himself and his closest acquaintances. Still, word had obviously gotten around, but about what? All his liaisons had ended on positive notes – with the mares crying out for more – so that couldn’t be it. Feigning ignorance was what came easiest.

“I don’t know what you heard, but all I ever do is work, drink, sleep and have a little fun with the ladies from time to time. You got the wrong griffon, pal.”

Kure lifted a paw to bypass those jokers and get to his floor, but as soon as he did so all the ponies reached under their coats and drew a plethora of weapons. He was now glancing around furtively to tally up those who wished him harm, and what they were armed with. It was mostly melee weapons. Short blades, bats, pipes, and studded clubs were present, but it was the distinctive click of readied firearms that spoke of a deeper threat.

“Now where were you off to in such a hurry? Why not stick around for a little chat? We could be friends.”

The leader and the two flanking him had drawn some air pistols and were aiming them at Kure. They were all grinning as those holding all the cards would, and those behind were openly chuckling. The griffon they were all accosting did his best to keep his poker face while finding an out from the jam. Outright conflict against so many was suicide, but the priority were those with guns. His talons had been in his pockets throughout the short encounter and they carefully curled around what he hoped to be the right choice.

“All right,” Kure shrugged with nonchalance. “Since we have to be pals… Here's a gift!”

The griffon had learned much in that strange new world, and he met many different types in his days of work. He’d learned from some cat-folk that when faced with many threats it was best to carry a powerful distraction and beat it rather than fight, and that advice was taken to heart.

He wrenched his talons out of his pockets and lobbed a small bag at the most immediate threats. The bag burst open upon contact with the leader’s face, a fine red mist of abyssinian curry spice enveloping him and the rest of the front group. Kure then spun around and tossed a bag at those behind, and was rewarded with howls of pain as the irritant went to town on their sinuses and eyes.

Not wanting to wait for the retaliation, Kure attempted to lift off but a blast of air from a dive-bombing pegasus who narrowly missed their mark made him think better. Going for the door was the final option, which meant he would have to fight his way in.

“Get that fucker!” the leader bellowed out while waving his pistol around wildly. “Kill him if you have to!”

That pony was almost unable to see, but for the brief moment where he could see through watering eyes his vision was filled with an enraged griffon. Two paws struck him in the gut, launching him off his hooves and into some wooden crates near a basement entrance. The other four had retreated a bit, leaving the spice cloud behind in order to regain their faculties.

Knowing that the situation would not be settled with parlor tricks alone, Kure jammed his talons back into his pockets, the digits curling around the twin pepperboxes he’d never needed to use until then. The right came out quicker than the left, and as he drew a battlecry from behind and a woosh of a melee weapon narrowly missing the back of his neck forced him to lunge forward.

His aim may have not been the greatest, but when he snapped off the first two shots of the three-shot firearm into the center mass of the stallion furthest right he was rewarded with a howl and a thud. He was also gifted with a bullet striking ground just to his left as the other guys started shooting blindly in his general direction. Acutely aware of the danger ahead, and only dimly aware of that behind as they scattered so as not to be hit in the crossfire, a plan had rapidly built in his head and he would do his best to implement it.

Firing one last shot into the other goon on the right, Kure switched to his left pistol and winged off two shots at those on the left. With only one possibility remaining, he dived at the leader who had just extricated himself, swatted away the gun coming up to intercept him, rammed his entire body weight down upon him, and shoved the triple barrels of his gun into the big guy’s mouth.

“Don't move or this fucker gets it!”

Kure had hoped that such a brazen action would have stunned the others into compliance. Sure, as he frantically whipped his head about he could see that many were visibly panicked, but none had fled the scene. They all hollered to each other while slowly encroaching, trying to coordinate a response. Life wasn't like the moving pictures, where the baddies would stupidly come at the dashing rogue one at a time. It was only a matter of seconds before those guys charged en masse, so he had to act accordingly.

Kure scrambled off the pinned leader, but still kept a bead on him. He had to switch between targets though as the remaining enemies had regrouped to finish what they had started. Oddly enough, those with ranged weapons weren't firing and even his new friend had retreated to the group, an oddly smug curl to his muzzle. Something was off about that, and instincts screamed to get the flock out of there. The griffon headed their call, but before he could...

Something latched onto him and smothered his beak with a rag wetted by a pungent substance. All semblance of civility evaporated in an instant, and he thrashed around in a primal bid for escape. He tried to fire his remaining shot into the mystery attacker, but the lead only found ground. He tried to bash at the attacker with the butt of his gun, but after several hits his limbs began to falter. The edge of his vision was turning gray, and after a few more seconds of huffing and squirming, the rest of his body went limp and the world faded to black.

When consciousness started returning to Kure, the first thing which graced his mind was the hard surface he was laid out on. The second thing was the slow, rhythmic rocking of his dark world. He was on a ship, in a cargo hold if the scent of mildew and sea salt was of any indication. He’d been around such places most of his life, and he’d been on his way home when…

As soon as the previous events caught up with him he tried to bolt, but a plethora of appendages held him fast. He tried to lash out with his beak as that wasn’t the most restrained but his captors were adept at dodging any strike.

“Ease up on him a bit. He’s harmless.”

Kure did not like this one bit. Messing with goons was one thing, but just by the tone this was clearly a pony much further up the food chain. And in the low light the captive could just see the silhouette of a stallion lurking in the shadow. He didn’t need to see a muzzle move to know the next words were directed at him.

“Stop thrashing and they’ll let go. Try anything stupid and we’ll put you down and nopony will miss ya’.”

Knowing that a continued struggle would likely result in death, Kure ceased and the hooves and claws retreated. As he slowly regained his footing, eyes adjusted as much as they could to the dim lighting and he could now make out all the new little friends he shared the cargo hold with.

“Ah, the sleeping baby rises, at last.”

An older stallion, judging from his voice, made his way over to a table which was in a better lit area. From the side, he was quite rotund and had a white mane atop a gray head, and his face bore quite a few wrinkles, especially around his flinty eyes. With a drawn out sigh, he stuffed his rump into a small chair and took a puff of his cigar. He then fixed Kure with a disapproving stare.

“I thought that my guy hit you with a little too much chloroform, but alas, you’re still here.”

Kure’s mind was still in a haze from the drugging and all he wanted was to know why. But all he could get out of his numb beak was a dry cough.

“You’re probably wonderin’ who the buck I am. So name’s Sea Moon, and welcome to my cargo ship. It’s not the nicest place to be, but she gets the job done.”

That name struck a note. Wasn’t he part of the shipping guild? Judging by the situation he found himself in, the stallion was way more than a wealthy merchant, and as he took a long drag from his cigar Kure truly struggled to put a face to the name.

“You clearly have no Idea who I am. Maybe you’ll know my daughter better?”

He motioned for somebody to come out of the shadows, And to Kure’s surprise it was the beautiful mare from nearly a year ago, and dressed similar to boot.

“Her name’s Poison Berry.”

The gravity of the situation hit Kure like a wave. The mare he’d banged many months ago not only was the daughter of a supposed crime boss, but said crime boss now had beef with him over that action. Aside from that, he was also a mad parent and the griffon knew better than to mess around with those who held power over him, so he chose his words carefully.

Is that all? Why send the muggers then?”

Being aloof was a gamble, but it seemed to pay off as the elder stallion glared at one of his constituents rather than him.

“It wasn’t my idea to turn this into an abduction, That was my employee being a dumbass like always. But moreover…”

Poison Berry moved behind her father’s seat and picked up something out of view.

“...My daughter has something to show you.”

That something was a wicker basket with a red plaid blanket sticking out through the semi-closed lid, which she placed on the table. Kure was genuinely confused. Then it giggled.

The little trill was unmistakable to any griffon, and with it his heart hit the floor. It took every mental faculty he possessed at that moment to not drop to the deck in shock as he didn’t want to even so much as annoy anyone present. He’d had sex many times before with mares and apart from never receiving a complaint he’d never gotten any of his flings pregnant as far as he knew.

Kure had some goals, but children were still a ways over the horizon. He’d wanted more time before venturing down that road, but when the lid was opened and the tiny feathered head of a griffon chick poked up over the lip, the fact couldn’t be disputed. The little hen as told by the shape of the beak was his daughter. A whole new slew of emotions welled up in his mind, and they almost drowned out the natural instinct of fear already inhabiting it. Somehow, joy was winning out over all others as he looked upon the creation he’d helped make. He may have grown up with little in the means of paternity, but he was not his father and willing to do better.

“That’s… wonderful!” Kure beamed. “I’m ready to step up and take care of our-”

With an ungraceful fury, Poison Berry raced over to Kure and planted a hind hoof up into the griffon’s groin. She may have only been a mare, but with the natural force in the hooves of all equines her victim was launched a few inches into the air to crumple back down to the floor in stunned agony.

Any other time, he would have easily dodged such a move, but with the sedative still lurking around in his veins he could hardly react to, let alone endure the hit. As he held onto his bruised balls and a few tears of pain streaked out his eyes, through the haze he could see the audience cringe back empathetically and cover their own groins reflexively.

Angrily clopping hooves signaled that the beating was only beginning, and Kure was unable to react to the spinning kick delivered to his side. Pony strength struck hard again as he was sent rolling across the floor and into the wall with enough force to elicit a crack from the surface. His mind raced through fog, trying to understand what had just happened, but a sudden lack of air sent everything into overdrive.

The hoof collapsing his windpipe was hardly merciful, and the mare behind it was hardly the one he knew from months before. This imposter was furious and belligerent, and Kure could only look upon her in abject fear.

“You dirty, lowlife griffon.”

Her first sentence was only a dangerous hiss, but she rectified that in an instant. “If I’d wanted to get pregnant I would have done it with a stallion, not some deadbeat birdbrain! I told you to put that condom on and you fucking didn’t!”

With the lack of oxygen getting to his brain and the visceral pain, Kure could only gasp out one simple question.

“The fuck a condom?”

The eyes of the mare almost ignited into flame at that and Kure feared that she would skip the rest of her tirade and simply stomp him out of existence, but her elder was his saving grace.

“Stop right there sweetie!”

Sea Moon waddled over to the one-sided brawl and attempted to pull his daughter away, but she was having none of it. As the darkness closed in, Kure could see a somewhat miffed look on the stallion’s face, but as quick as it had appeared it vanished.

“I know you want to beat the guy into the ground, but how about you take some of my bits and my airship to the capitol for some shopping.”

At that offer, she withdrew her hoof and stepped back. The griffon who was almost smothered by it drew as many ragged breaths as possible, which was a tall order when confronted with all the newly inflicted pain which made him want to dry heave as well. And of course, she wasn’t quite through with him yet.

“I don’t care what you do with that kid, but I’m through with you. All I wanted that night was to say that I fucked a griffon, that’s all. If ponies find out I was knocked up by one the rumors would fly, so I don’t want this ever coming back to me. Got it?!”

Kure could only formulate some form of grunt in response. Just like how she didn’t want anything more to do with him, he really didn’t want anything more to do with her. He would gladly take Poison Berry leaving to carry on her own life than try to ‘make it work’ at that moment, but as he watched the mare accept a fat sack of coins and depart the hold, he knew the ride wasn’t done yet.

“You must be wondering why I didn’t just have you killed for knocking up my sweetheart. Maybe you think I would have some kind of prejudice, but I could give two flying fucks about you being a griffon.”

With little grace, Seamoon slowly made his way back to his seat and sat back down with a drawn out sigh.

“My dad was a deadbeat. He would spend his time in this world trying to peddle fake drugs that were merely painkillers with crazy names attached to them. He was never able to make it anywhere above street level. Too many raw deals; left my mother and I very poor at times. Eventually it all caught up to him and he overdosed on his own product.

“Then there was my best pal. His pa was a kind stallion who would happily donate some of his miner pay to my mother and I to keep us afloat, but the mine collapse claimed him and put my buddy in the same dire straits as me. They were starving and I wanted desperately to support his family just as they did mine, but I could hardly feed myself let alone…

“It was the soup kitchens that kept us all going through that time. Free meals were a blessing, but also a curse as all it took was one ill-prepared meal to kill him at thirteen, his mother soon after. That day forward, I vowed that I would never be in that position again. So I worked my ass off, jumped on every opportunity presented to me even if the law disagreed, and eventually I was able to get where I am now.”

Kure wasn’t quite sure where Sea Moon was going with his monologue, but fearing that turning it into a dialogue would have repercussions, he held his tongue.

“Now,” Sea Moon continued. “I gather you may not understand where I’m coming from, but the short answer is that I don’t want you to turn out like my dad. My daughter may lack interest in parenting, but you seem eager to take up that mantle and as a grandparent I want what’s best for my granddaughter as well. In order to achieve that I can’t have you working hourly on the docks, not in this economy. So, Kure. What do you say to workin’ for me for a spell?”

Kure was… shocked to be let off so easily. Not only was he not dead, but the stallion who would have done so was offering him a job instead. And while it was true that many had turned to crime to survive trying times, Kure had done his best to fly above all that. But now with a whole heap of responsibility now bearing down he knew that staying legit would no longer cut it, he knew better than to raise any kind of fuss. The fuss, however, was reserved for another.

“Hey! Let go of me!”

Two of the biggest stallions he’d ever seen were dragging over the ringleader of the group who’d jumped him in the courtyard. Unlike before, his swagger had been replaced with fear and he resisted with every step.

“Is this the pony who came after you?”

The griffon glanced between the boss and the lackey, and softly nodded.

“Good.”

Sea Moon gave him a meaningful look. “Because If you wish to become a member of this family, I need you to cut off his hoof.”

“My what?!”

The red stallion thrashed as hard as he could, desperate to escape the situation and his boss’s ire. He wouldn’t be granted such mercy.

“You fucked up big time! I send you on one simple errand and you give me shit in return! Two boys pushing daisies and one who’s bleeding out in the city hospital and my money is the only thing keeping the police and feds at bay! All because you didn’t do your fucking job right!”

Kure watched the elder pony as he huffed and puffed after his tirade. He was having a hard time processing what had just been asked of him, but not doing it would probably lead to consequences for him. But, he still had to ask…

“And… If I don’t…?”

Sea Moon’s lips curled up ever so slightly, as though he was hoping to be met with such a question.

“Oh don’t worry, If I wanted him dead he wouldn’t even be here.” He took a quick drag of his cigarette. “No, this is about reminding folks what their place in my world is.”

He then turned about and waddled back over to the desk, right by the only truly innocent creature in the room. “If you don’t do as I ask though…”

He gently rubbed the griffon babe’s head with a hoof, and she chortled happily from the touch. “I’m more than happy to take care of her. As for you, or any others who disobey…”

He pressed a button under the desk, and the fabric curtain was mechanically drawn away to reveal… a gigantic aquarium?

At least, that’s how it appeared to Kure at first glance. A giant backlit aquarium filled with murky teal water. Some of the bigger commercial fishing vessels he’d tended to had gigantic seawater holds to keep their catch alive until a return to port, but why one would need an observation window was beyond him. Then he started to see why.

Bodies.

A little over a dozen bodies belonging to all sorts of races hovered stationary on the far side of the glass. All were wearing street clothing indicative of their positions and statuses, as though they all had been abducted right off the streetcorner. His own gasp was dwarfed by the other junior henchponies who clearly weren’t in the know as they also took in the macabre display. All present could easily see, but Kure’s enhanced vision helped him to take in even more gruesome details.

Not only could he make out the races of griffon, pony, zebra, minotaur, abyssinian, buffalo, and diamond dog floating deathly still, but he could see that their torsos had been bound with bailing wire, forelimbs pinned to their sides. And anchoring them in place were big chunks of molded concrete wrapping their feet, the so-called concrete shoes living up to their terrible name. The worst however were the twisted expressions of shock and horror played out on every face, as though they had died upon the mere contact with the water and were now frozen in time.

“As you can see, when it comes to loose ends, I have ways of making them disappear.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kure spied Sea Moon reaching for a lever on the wall next to the glass, and upon its pull the whole ship heaved upward as the bottom of the tank dropped out, sending all its contents to the bottom of the sea. As the last rivulets of water traced down the glass, the lever was pushed back up and the open hatch was slowly drawn back up, heavy mechanical sounds dully thrumming through the hull accompanying the motion.

Throughout the display, Kure’s jaw had hung open in muted horror, and a few others had befallen such expressions. He regained his faculties when Sea Moon approached, loudly dragging along a small metal table in one hoof, and a fireaxe in the other. He brought the table to rest before the griffon, and then held the axe out by its head.

“So. Will you do it? Or not.”

When it came to self defense, Kure had no qualms with injuring or killing another creature to protect his own life. But hacking off a limb for the sake of making a point? That was torture, and even though the simpering mess of a stallon held at ready may have been rotten to the core, he didn’t deserve that. But it had been clearly demonstrated that if he didn’t comply it would result in his demise. So with waning hesitation, he reached out.

Sea Moon smiled.

Talons wrapped around the handle.

“Alright, bring him over.”

Sea Moon waved over his guys, and the intended victim howled and resisted with all his might until the elder stallion marched up and backhoofed him in the face.

“Cut that out or I’ll have him cut off your head!”

As the old stallion shuffled back to the far side of the table, his insubordinate subordinate was dragged the rest of the way. This time he still whimpered but did not resist as one of his captors forcibly stretched out one of his reluctant forelegs across the cold steel.

Kure knew that this was it. As he glanced into the terrified, hopeless eyes of a pony who had tried to kill him earlier, the axe gained heft in his talons.

“C-c-c’mon man! You don’t hafta do this!”

The griffon wasn’t sure if the pleading was directed exclusively at him or if some of it was directed at the boss and his henchponies, but any hesitation on his part would result in both their deaths. So he squared up his shoulders, aimed for the top of the hoof, and raised the axe above his head.

The axehead whooshed down through air, spitting flesh and bone before piercing and embedding itself into the metal with a meaty, metallic thump. A bright light flashed, causing Kure to recoil from his handiwork, relinquishing the stuck axe in favor of shielding his eyes from whatever that flash was. As he squinted at the silhouette of the stallion rolling around on the floor screaming bloody murder it flashed again, and this time his ears registered the unmistakable pop of a flashbulb.

To his… chagrin, a colt almost out of his teenage years had not only witnessed the insane amount of barbarism on display in the hold, but was now taking photographs of the aftermath like some tabloid nightcrawler. As this new arrival trotted up to the table to flash a picture of the dismembered hoof and the tool which had cleaved it off, Kure was finally struck by the reality of the situation.

“Did you get it?” SeaMoon asked his young constituent, who nodded eagerly.

“Sure did, boss. One-hundred percent.”

The rest of that conversation faded into oblivion as Kure’s now relatively clear mind processed the last few minutes of his life. The maimed pony was dragged away to (hopefully) get patched up and some of the others more squeamish followed the thin trail of blood out of the hold.

In truth, the griffon wondered what he had gained apart from his continued existence. Was the violence and death of the day all just in vain, or was there something more to it. The grinning stallion coming his way with the blanketed basket in hoof may have held the answer.

“Well, griffon, welcome to the club.”

As promised, the griffon chick was hoofed over, and Kure accepted with some reverence.

“You know, this is perfect timing, seeing as it's father’s day here.”

Kure had no real response to that, so he skipped to a more pressing question.

“So what now?”

The ship listed slightly as it began a slow turn to starboard, and both the griffon and stallion had to lean to compensate.

“We should be in port on the hour. Go home, get some rest. One of my guys will come around sometime with further instructions.”

There wasn’t much more to speak of, Kure followed Sea Moon out a nearby bulkhead. With some instruction on how to find the deck, he made his way up, but stopped short of the rain-slicked deck. The corrugated metal awning above the bulkhead admitting entry to the superstructure held the heavens at bay with a raucous din but did little to stop the wet gusts. It was enough to see them to shore and off the wretched vessel as the Barrel Bay lighthouse was already within view, Its enhanced magic spotlights easily piercing through the gloom.

Them.

Unconsciously, he had been holding his new companion close to the wall while blocking the gale with his own body. When he’d parted the blankets a touch to see his daughter, he’d expected to see some level of fear in her face, or at least apprehension, but no…

No, she was asleep.

He pondered a moment on how something so pure wasn’t concerned at all about the commotion surrounding her. It may have not been the time or the place, but a fitting name for the unnamed chick came to mind.

Destivy Mesic.

And that was my introduction to the life. Ever since that day, I had to do all sorts of dirty work for the mob and after a spell I started to like it. Pay was way better than anything legit, and now that I had an extra mouth to feed that made bits all the more important. My only personal hope through all of that was that my daughter would turn out okay. I didn’t want her making out like her bitch of a mother, and the best bet for that would be to get away from Barrel Bay. I didn’t want aforementioned bitch or anyone for that matter weaseling into my life anymore then they already had.

That was the long term goal, but at that moment my work took priority, and work in the criminal underworld was never finished.