Bad Days in Manehatten

The hum of summer cicadas filled the scorching-hot Manehattan air. Ponies walked through their daily lives, cars drove across the street, and the large city that never sleeps was a tad livelier this afternoon.

But in the middle of the city, one large building the size of a standard college campus stood. A large white and blue sign hung above its entrance reading “Manehattan Police Training Center.”.

In a large open courtyard situated in the back of the building, a small crowd of ponies stood front-facing in a horizontal line as an older stallion paced in front of them. The stallion's height was shorter than average, but the toned body underneath a worn brown bomber jacket made up for it. His coat was a dark orange with a faded white mane and tail. Pink eyes that held years of experience. His cutie mark was that of an old-fashioned fighter plane soaring over a cloud.

"4 years. 4 years, you have all stuck together through thick and thin." The older stallion shouted, not bothering to look at the hard-gazed crowd, "Rain, ice, heat: none of it has affected the likes of you select few. Out of the 200 applicants this year, only 20 of you managed to survive." The older stallion halts, standing motionless and facing the 20 ponies.

“To be honest, this city is a complete shit hole. Crime rates have been higher than they have ever been before. Murder, rape, robbery, and the whole 9 yards are a small taste of what might kill you in the line of duty. So if you have cold hooves at the last second, the door is right there.” The older stallion motioned with a hoof towards a set of steel doors to the right of the courtyard. When none reacted to the proposal, the stallion smirked and put his hoof back down. “Good.” He mumbled before raising his other hoof to his forehead in a salute. “I trust you all will do a damn fine job. It has been an honor teaching you all, and good luck.”

The small ground stomped the ground and got into a straight stance before returning the salute. “THANK YOU, SENIOR OFFICER BOMBER!” They all shouted. One-by-one, the mares and stallions slowly made their way out of the courtyard and inside the air-conditioned building with smiles.

One earth stallion, however, gave a sad sigh and started trotting about the plain white halls. The stallion had a youthful look to compliment his tall, slender body. His baby-blue coat shined from sweat, and his usually short swirly white mane clung to his face and nearly obscured emerald green eyes. The cutie mark on the stallion's flank was that of an automatic pistol frozen mid-shot with smoke billowing from its barrel.

Grasped in between the stallion’s teeth was a large folder. It wasn’t anything special, mostly paperwork and forms to fill out later. The only item of note in the folder was a golden police badge with the name “Quickdraw” written below it.

Quickdraw rounded another corner and soon arrived at the living quarters of the building. Stopping before a door with the number 106, Quickdraw took a deep breath and opened the door, quickly closing it behind himself.

Inside, the room was a perfect definition of bare bones. A single pony bed rested in the corner of the room with a simple table sitting next to it; a melted candle clung to its surface with melted wax. Across from the bed was a wardrobe. Unfortunately, there were no clothes inside except the academy-issued uniform, which was rarely worn. Quickdraw circled in place, scanning the white walls of his room for the last time with a nostalgic look.

Memories of better times passed through Quickdraw’s mind. Times when he and his friends would get together and party through the holiday nights, peaceful talk’s with his instructor over a couple of glasses of cider, and the only time he managed to woo a mare into bed before finding out she was a stallion the next morning.

That last one the others would never let down.

Finally setting his eyes on the bed, Quickdraw made his way to a set of worn-out saddle bags lying flatly on the sheets. After undoing the clasp and folding the top flap back, Quickdraw bit down on the bag's bottom and turned it upside down. Out of the bag was an assortment of items ranging from toothpaste, toothbrush, spare horseshoes, a small medical kit, a flip phone, and a single photo that fell gently on the bed.

Quickdraw stiffened up at the sight of the small film object. A shaky baby-blue hoof moved under the photo and flipped it over. Once he saw what was there, Quick Draw winced. The photograph depicted a younger Quickdraw sitting happily beside a stallion who looked like him but with a darker coat and an orange mane/tail. Both ponies sat on an old dock at the edge of a lake. In Qickdraw’s hooves, a trout dangled from a fishing line as the young colt looked at the camera with a wide grin, the stallion resting a foreleg over Qickdraw’s shoulder.

The young stallion felt tears threatening to escape but quickly took a deep breath and began to place the objects back into his saddlebags. As he did so, a flash of memory played in his head.

“Run Quickdraw!” The older stallion shouted, holding his body up against the bedroom door, which was slammed into by an unknown entity. Snarling and scraping could be heard from the other side, scaring the young Quickdraw stiff.

A mare behind the young colt suddenly picked him up and placed him onto her back. Muffled words of apologies and final goodbyes were lost to the ringing in Quickdraw’s ears. The mare backed up before rushing forward and jumping out of an open window, safely landing on the ground below.

From behind, there was the sound of breaking wood, closely followed by muffled yelling and feral noises. Moment’s passed of a scuffle from the inside before a scream of pain filled the colt’s ears. It was then; the mare hightailed it away from the window, not daring to look back with tears flowing out of her eyes. On her back, Quickdraw sobbed quietly with his hooves covering his face, muttering a single word.

“Daddy”

A knock at the door jolted Quickdraw from his morbid memory. He looked down to see the objects cleaned up and his bead made, not a thing out of place. Another knock made the stallion groan in annoyance as he strapped the worn saddlebags to his flank. Rushing to the door and opening it, to be met with a familiar face.

“Hey, Quickdraw, how’s it hanging?” Said a pink unicorn stallion with a black mane and tail, his cutie mark being a silver whistle, “I was wondering if you want to hang out tonight?” He said, a friendly smirk on his muzzle.

Quickdraw sighed and moved past the stallion, shutting the door behind him. “If it’s about going to a bar, Whistleblower, I’m not going. You know I quit the hard stuff long ago.” He said without turning to the other stallion’s face.

Whistleblower gave an amused snort at lightly punched Quickdraw’s shoulder, “Come on man, I’m not that forgetful…am I?” He asks, a hint of concern lining his voice.

“We can discuss your potential brain damage later.” Quickdraw spat, “I need to pay a visit to somepony.”

“Can I at least tell you my idea?”

Quickdraw sighed and faced the pink stallion, “Sure, it wouldn’t hurt to get my mind off things tonight.”

The duo stopped walking when Whistleblower blocked Quickdraw’s path. The pink stallion dug through his pair of saddlebags, a small and green pair, and eventually pulled out a map. On it, a big red circle is drawn hastily around a building that Whistleblower points at.

“What is it?” Quickdraw questioned, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

Whistleblower chuckles smugly, “That, my good friend, is the newest gentlecolt’s club that opened just two weeks ago!” He revealed in a whisper. He looked over his shoulders to find no one was there and continued. “They’re having a sale this weekend, where the entry fees are cheap as dirt.”

A deadpanned look was all that Whistleblower got in response before Quickdraw said: “You are inviting me to a strip club?” He said in a monotone voice.

“Nah, it’s an orphanage. I just thought you might want a foal or something.” Whistleblower sarcastically said with an eye roll. “Of course, it’s a strip club! That’s what ‘gentlecolt’s club’ means!”

“I know what it means,” Quickdraw said. He walked around the pink stallion and continued. Whistleblower scoffed before catching up with the taller stallion as the two swung open the doors to the outside, wincing slightly as the sun flashed in their eyes. “Besides, what makes you think I want to go there? Downtown isn’t exactly mine, or anypony else’s, favorite place to go.” Quickdraw said as he and Whistleblower descended the stone stairs.

“Well, I heard that mare you got the hots for is working there.” He said, chuckling when Quickdraw stopped walking.

Quickdraw turned to his friend with a confused look, “Cinnamon Spice is a dancer?” He asked.

Nodding, Whistleblower walked ahead of Quickdraw while humming, “Yeah, who knew, right? But, too bad that some grumpy pants don’t want to see his crush.” He teased.

The lanky stallion growled under his breath with a faint blush on his face, “Fine, alright!” He shouted, throwing a hoof to the air, “I’ll go, only because I want to know why she’s working in a place like that, ok?” He shouted, ignoring the strange looks from the surrounding ponies.

Whistleblower silently cheered under his breath and looked at his friend with a smile, “Alright. The place opens at 11:30 pm and closes at 6:00 am; I’ll be seeing you there, baby colt~” He said, saying the last words with a flirty tone, laughing and running away like hell.

Quickdraw cursed the pink stallion for the name. Shaking the blush and the anger away from his head, the tired stallion adjusted his saddlebags and walked on.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quickdraw stares up at a small home. A single-story tall structure, with yellow-painted bricks, a tiled roof, and a small garden surrounding the home; guarded by a white picket fence. With a deep breath, Quickdraw smiled and knocked on the wooden door.

A few seconds passed until it opened to show an old pegasus mare behind it. Her coat was a pale green, and a mane and tail of crimson, her cutie mark was of a bundle of rose petals. The mare's right wing was missing, with only a cast coving the remaining stump. A wide smile slowly grew on the elderly mare’s muzzle as her blue eyes shined with joy.

Before Quickdraw could get a single word out, the elderly mare pounced on him, trapping the stallion in a tight hug that betrayed her weak-looking frame. The mare nuzzled him while berating Quickdraw with loving words that were too fast for him to understand.

“Yeah, Yeah, I missed you too, mom.” He strained, patting his mother’s back with a wavering smile. Thankfully, she released Quickdraw from her grasp, allowing him to take a deep breath.

“It’s been too long, honey.” She beamed, “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you.” The mare moved to the side and motioned Quickdraw to enter, “ Come in; I just made dinner!”

With a small smile and a chuckle, Quickdraw nodded and trotted past his mother until he heard the door close. Quickdraw navigated the halls perfectly, using the scent of freshly baked goods as a guide until he reached the kitchen.

The upper walls had cabinets, Quickdraw knowing that spices and dried food completely stuffed them. The counters were the same story, only that they were stuffed with pots and pans. There was a single plain fridge placed next to the entrance of the dining room. And a stove broke the line of counter’s with a window above it, flooding the kitchen with the orange glow of the setting sun. On top of the stove was a cherry pie. It was still in its pan as steam rose from the surface, filling Quickdraw’s nose with a delicious smell. His observations were interrupted when the older mare trotted to the baked goods.

“Could you be a dear and set the table, Please?” She said, fluttering her eyes innocently, “I want to know what you’ve been up to all these years.”

Quickdraw nodded wordlessly and trotted to a cabinet, swinging open the door, and pulled out two ceramic plates. Closing the cabinet door, Quickdraw made his way to the dining room, a simple area with a large circular table with three chairs. After setting down the plates and going back to get silverware, Quickdraw took a seat in one of the chairs and waited patiently, a happy look in his eyes.

His wait wasn’t long as the elderly mare emerged from the kitchen with the now-cooled pie resting safely on her remaining wing. She set it down on the table and took her seat, using her knife and fork to carve a slice from the pie.

“So, did you make any friends, my little police officer?” She cooed.

Quickdraw took his piece, using his fork to shovel a bit into his mouth, “Kinda,” He answered hesitantly, swallowing his pie. His mother raised an eyebrow, forcing the stallion to go on. “His name is Whistleblower. Annoying little shit, but a good stallion to be around when you need him. We met during the first day; I socked him right in the muzzle when he didn’t shut up.” Ignoring the shocked look on the mare’s face, he took another bite and swallowed before speaking. “Somehow, he kept wanting to talk to me after that. I gave up eventually, opened up to him, and been pals ever since. At least, that’s the short version.”

“Well…it’s nice that you have somepony to talk with.” The mare giggles, “He sounds like a nice stallion if a bit crud. Maybe you should invite him some other time?”

Quickdraw held back from choking on his food and glanced away from his mother, “Sure.” He mumbled.

Time seemed to fly by as the mother and son conversed. Minutes turned into hours, and the only thing lighting the dining room was the ceiling line above the dining room table as the sunset. Stories were shared between the two. One example is when Quickdraw was shooting a gun for the first time.

In his younger years, Quickdraw would learn to shoot a bow and arrow with his father when hunting season came around. As rare as it was, hunting season was the only time it was legally allowed to kill another animal for population control. It was one of these days the young colt had gained his mark after getting his first kill, a male deer, which he shot in the middle of the heart and through the lungs.

So it was no surprise that Quickdraw was renowned in his training group’s social circle for his remarkable ability to hit any target accurately. But the first day, he picked up a gun at the academy's shooting range, Whistleblower decided it was a great idea to startle the stallion with the firearm. And as Quickdraw lined up his shot, Whistleblower came out from behind and roared at the lanky stallion. The sudden noise started Quickdraw, making him miss and pull the trigger, sending a bullet ricocheting off the steel-covered walls and hitting Whistleblower in the leg. Luckily, Whistleblower was the one who got suspended and put on bed rest until his leg was better, while Quickdraw got a warning and temporary ban from the shooting range.

Stories of the sort passed on along with others of regular life and local gossip. It all came to a close when Quickdraw noticed his mother’s downcast expression.

“Hey, is something wrong?” He asked, putting a gentle hoof on her shoulder.

His mother looked over his shoulder at a framed picture on the wall, a larger version of the one Quickdraw had in his bags. “No, It’s just…I'm scared.” She then faced Quickdraw with a worried face. “I mean, I am happy that you got your dream job. But, I don’t want you getting hurt because of what happened to your father.” She looked down at her empty plate and felt a chill run down her spine, “Those maniacs that killed your father, I don’t want the same happening with-”

Quickdraw's hoof suddenly slammed onto the table, causing the elderly mare to flinch away. “I told you to stop saying that!” He angrily shouted at his mother, “I’ve already told you; he is not dead! Those bastards took him away, and I’m going to find him!” Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes which he swiftly wiped away before sitting back down. His expression softened into “...I’m sorry.” He muttered, looking away from his mother’s scared face.

“Honey, I…” The elderly mare’s words are held in her throat for a few seconds before she sighs, “I’m sorry too. You’ll…find him.” She said in a defeated tone.

Silence filled the air, both ponies not saying a single word. This continued until Quickdraw stood up and trotted over to the dining room entrance, stopping just as he reached it and turning to his mother with a pained expression. “I need to get going now, I’ll write to you as much as possible, okay?” He said, earning a nod from his mom, “I…love you.” He muttered, turning back and quickly making his way through the hall and out the front door.

His mother, on the other hoof, sat in the dining room alone, staring at the photo on the nearby window seal with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh, catcher. What am I going to do?”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loud techno music thumped and scratched at Quickdraw’s pained ears as they folded back in discomfort, using a hoof to massage away a headache. Half-naked mares in skimpy clothing and fishnets wandered about the building, holding silver trays with alcohol and the occasional snack food.

Anytime one came up to Quickdraw, he rejected their services with an awkward response, electing to remain at the bar section with his mug of hard cider.

Sitting next to him, Whistleblower brought down his third mug of Prussian vodka with a loud belch. “Hey, Quickdraw,” the pink stallion tapped Quickdraw's shoulder, gaining his attention, “You seem down for some reason, care to tell me?” He said with a hint of concern.

Quickdraw scoffed and shook his head, “No, it’s just personal business.” He replied. “Besides, I thought that Cinnamon spice was supposed to be here?”

He looked around the club; it was hard to tell anypony apart, no thanks to the seizure-inducing lighting. In the middle of the interior was a stage surrounded by occupied tables. On the stage, a half-naked white mare with a neon green mane and tail walks down the aisle, a chorus of whistles and cheers following in the dancer’s wake. Reaching the end, she soon started dancing seductively around a chrome pole bolted to the platform and ceiling. Bits were thrown on the stage as the light’s shined on her.

Quickdraw turned his blushing face away and continued. His head turned side-to-side in search of Cinnamon but to no avail. Facing back, he huffed and held his hoof up, signaling the bartender over to him. “Another, please.” Quickdraw said, putting his hoof down. The bartender nodded and walked off, leaving Whistleblower to lightly punch Quickdraw's foreleg.

“Come on; I know when you’re upset. So stop acting so edgy and spill it out; let papa Whistle comfort you.” He fluttered his eyelashes while leaning closer to Quickdraw.

Backing away slightly, Quickdraw groaned, “Fine! I…kind of fought with my mom.” He revealed, glancing away uncomfortably. “She said something that set me off, and I yelled at her.” Quickdraw hung his head as the bartender returned, placing the filled mug of cider on the counter.
“Man…that’s kind of a dick move.” Whistleblower muttered, backing away. “Did you at least apologize?”

Quickdraw said nothing, taking a long drink from his cider and slamming the mug back down, spilling some of the contents. “I did, but it was worthless at best.” He then ran a hoof over his mane and rested his forehead on the counter. “How can I get a relationship with cinnamon if I can barely talk with my mother?” Quickdraw muttered.

Whistleblower patted his friend’s back with a sympathetic smile, “Don’t talk like that, dude. You still got a chance. Just because you had a rough day doesn’t mean you’re a bad pony.” He chuckled before downing the rest of his drink.

But as Quickdraw raised his head to reply, Whistleblower's eyes landed on something that made the pink stallion spray his drink on the poor bartender. “Dude, Look!” He said, pushing Quickdraw’s head away from him to the crowd. It took a moment, but Quickdraw’s eyes slowly widened at a specific unicorn mare.

Her coat was a rich chocolate color, a dark-brown mane with hot-pink highlights, green eyes, and a cutie mark of a gingerbread pony. The mare’s outfit looked similar to the others, with the exception of a missing…bra. She placed a drink on a table with three drunk stallions as one of them waved the aforementioned article of clothing in the air. With a scowl, she spat something harshly at the group and left with a huff.

As she trotted out of a nearby exit, the three drunk stallions talked briefly to each other before getting up and following her out the same door. Noticing something was up, Quickdraw slapped Whislebolwers hoof away and bolted out of his chair.

He made his way through the packed building, pushing and shoving drunkards away as he inched closer and closer to the door. In one rush, Quickdraw rammed into the door, bursting out the other side as the cool night air washed over him. The lanky stallion didn’t account for the speed at which he was falling, resulting in him faceplanting into the hard concrete.

“HEY, LET GO, YOU BASTARD!”

But instantly forgetting the pain and blood gushing out of his nose, Quickdraw stood up and quickly discovered the mare. Near a dumpster, the three stallions surrounded the mare. One of them stayed back and watched the scene unfold. Another was holding the mare back, his forelegs wrapped around each of the mare's shoulders. The last one was wailing on her, punching bruised mare in the gut and face.

“S-Shut up!” The last stallion spat, “We tried to show ya a good time. But y-you had to go o-on and be a b-bitch!” He started to chuckle darkly as his hoof circled the mare's inner thigh, “Since you aren’t gonna let us, I guess we’re gonna force ya.” The mare’s eyes widened, furthering her efforts to escape.
Quickdraw growled and gritted his teeth as he got up. But going in now was an idiotic idea. Even if the three stallions were drunker than a skunk, they had frames that made Quickdraw’s look like a filly in comparison. So taking careful steps, Quickdraw inched closer and closer to the stallion watching the other two. Along the way, on the ground, a broken half of a brink lay in the middle of the path, which Quickdraw picks up with his teeth.

Now he was mere inches away from the stallion, and raising his head high, Quickdraw brought down the brick half onto the stallion’s skull. There was a sickening crack, and the stallion fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A small pool of blood formed under his head.

Unfortunately, the noise attracted the other two stallions' and the mare's attention. The stallion who was beating up the mare looked between the bloody brick in Quickdraw’s mouth and the bloodied stallion on the floor, his expression turning to horror.

“Cold Brew!” He shouted.

“Quickdraw?!” The bruised mare shouted in disbelief.

The stallion holding her, however, let go of the mare and rushed Quickdraw. Roaring in anger, the drunken stallion raised a hoof back to punch Quickdraw as he approached. But before he could reach the lanky stallion, Quickdraw dogged the angered stallion by steeping to the side, making the stallion fumble past him and fall to the ground. He let out a pained groan and attempted to stand, but a solid kick in the gut by Quickdraw knocked the air out of the stallion and made him fall to the floor unconscious.

“Y-You!” Quickdraw looked back to see the third stallion pointing at him with a shaky hoof and a scared look. “I-I-I’ll get you for this!” Was the last thing he said before running off into the night.

Letting out a sigh, Quickdraw fixed his mane and was about to go to the mare, but something caught his attention. He bent down to get a better look until a groan brought his attention back to the mare.

“Damn, those low-lives gave me a beating.” She mumbled before coughing up blood.

Quickdraw rushed over to the mare and held out a hoof, “Hey, Cinnamon, you good?” He asked with a worried expression.

The mare, now known as cinnamon, scoffed and held Quickdraw’s hoof, getting lifted by the taller stallion. “Well, getting the shit beat out of me and almost getting de-flowered by a bunch of drunks, I think I’m alright.” She laughed but then coughed into her hoof and got blood over it.

“Do you need a doctor or something? That cough doesn’t sound good.” Quickdraw said. But looking down, his blush was apparent as he looked away.

Cinnamon huffed in amusement and pointed at the two unconscious stallions, “If anypony needs one, it’s them.” Her expression then shifted into one of worry as she looked at Quickdraw. “You didn’t…kill that one, right? She said, motioning to the bleeding stallion.

Quickdraw shook his head, wiping the blood from his muzzle, “I didn’t him that hard. Though, the blood loss might get to him.”

Just then, the cry of police sirens echoed in the night sky, slowly approaching the club's location. Cinnamon crushed under her breath. But when she tried to run back to the building, Quickdraw, in one swift motion, hoisted the mare onto his back and ran through the nearby allies.

As the sirens came closer, Whistleblower drunkenly stumbled out of the back door. Looking around with a scowl, the pink stallion groans in annoyance.

“Come on! That ass didn’t just bail on me!”