Grand Theft Pony

Immature, frail, and hopeless I once was when I played with plastic toy guns with my friends. Lyra, Bon Bon, and my brother Big Mac were the usual ponies I hung around with. I was always the robber, and the rest were the fuzz. I didn’t mind being the robber by myself; in fact, I found it more enjoyable, more thrilling to run away from something huge like the law. The only thing I didn’t like about being the robber was getting caught. It seems there wasn’t much difference between getting caught from when I was a filly to now.

“We have caught you now, so give us back the sweets or go to jail, it’s up to you.” Lyra would say like a police officer, pinning me down.

“Yeah, give us back our sweets, you thief, or I sentence you to death.” Big Mac would say with his colourful toy gun pointed at me as Lyra was on top of me.

“Yes, we need some backup. Applejack won’t give us the candy.” Bon Bon would speak through the fake radio. The three of them would pin me down and twist my hooves around my back. They dislocated my joint doing that once, but it didn’t stop them from doing it again.

“Applejack, Big Mac, it’s time for lunch.” my ma, Hope, called out with a bell, and we all moaned as we paused our role play. Hope was a mother of an orphanage of 27 foals, and yes, I’m an orphan along with Big Mac. I don’t remember much about my real ma and pa; all I can remember is the abuse. Life wasn’t going their way, so they had to take their blame on somepony. Unfortunately for us, we were bratty kids who were taken advantage of because we were weak. The police found me tied up and bruised in a chair because I wouldn’t eat my lunch. I can still remember the lunch too—broccoli and carrots. We never had enough money for anything else.

Me, Big Mac, ma, and pa were living a rough life. The police took my ma and pa away. I didn’t really miss them. That’s when we met Hope—not the feeling, but her name, which suits her too. She’s the only mare in this shithole that deserves more than she has. She fed, played, and cared for us; she was the closest thing to being called a true mom. We were close, closer than my real ma would ever get. We would go to the beach with the rest of the foals and splash in the endless ocean. We would hike mountains to touch the clouds, and if we were lucky, we would go to the fair, ride roller coasters, and win prizes. Then, one day, that all stopped. I was separated from Hope, my brother, and my friends when I turned 18. Once I turned 18, that’s when the nightmares began. The screams—why do I still hear the screams?

Beckum Street, a scarce and wary lane to ride down. In the shady dark night, colourful lights raved and hip-hop music boomed through the streets like some sort of festa rave. The Vatos Locos — A gang full of Hispanic ponies, or Latino ponies or whatever they call themselves — boys huddled in their pack, smoking weed and drinking liquor outside some pony’s rotten porch. A small chained fence stood uselessly low, garbage stranded in the grass of the garden. The Vatos boys stared at us, one showing his Glock in his hoof and another flashing his strap that was tucked into his pants as we slowly drove by. I looked away. I didn’t come to start beef with the gangs and cause an unwanted scene, not around here anyway. I glanced back over at the gang and saw they went back to smoking and drinking, waiting for something to go down—a brawl, theft, firefight, anything that was outside the law. Ponies here just want to play rough.

“AJ, which crib is Brodick in? The slippery motherfucker is goin’ to get a cap in his ass if he doesn’t give us the Cheddar this time.” Bon said as she spun the wheel around the corner to more gangsters raving, cruisin’ down the streets. Was it Brodick’s b-day?

“Don’t be a dumb bitch, Bon. Filthy Rich needs him alive for his business, dog, and if you get the 5-0 on our asses, then I’m gonna feed your ass to Winona.” I said as I looked down in the door’s pocket, where an UZI and green, glass bottles with cloth inside the neck rested and waited to be used. Classic Molotovs. Bon is full of surprises.

“I know what the boss said. I didn’t say I was goin’ to end the fucker’s life, not until the boss puts out the hit anyway.” Bon said, pulling back the slide on her M9 and letting it go, making the weapon ready to fire.

“Filthy Rich said his place was on the other side of a rundown hotel with barricaded windows. He said—” I turned to see Bon tweaking with her gun. “…fuckin’ put your gun away. The Vatos Locos boys are already twitchy with their straps as it is, dumb fucker!” I said, snatching the M9 as she was more interested in messing with her gun than driving. “If you want us to get busted like last time, then please, keep actin’ like a dumb bitch. Now keep your motherfuckin’ eyes on the road!” I bellowed. She put both of her hooves on the wheel and snarled sulkily. In Mareami, the more west you went, the more poverty was shown. Prudent ground, ghetto cribs, limited jobs to earn cash, hookers on the corner, and the homeless begging for dough. The struggle was as real as it got.

Then it got nastier—the cops, the ponies that took the role of serving and maintaining the public, took authority into their own hooves. From aggression to extortion, some of the police turned their roles into power over others. It’s the worst thing getting caught by the fuzz. One wrong move, and it’s guaranteed that you’re going to get shot up for the smallest things—robbing a store, stealing, or just for being on the west side is enough to turn a cop against the public. It’s mad. The system in the hood is ripped apart in the west; anywhere else isn’t as bad as it seems, but still, give our poor asses a break. We turned another corner where rows of stores were lined up, some closed down and some lit up with neon open signs. the Marshal Block Hotel was in the distance with its dark eyes covered by planks of wood and metal stairways leading to the roof on its side. On the opposite side of the street, boomed a massive rager. I guess Filthy Rich was right.

“That’s it, the hotel, which means that bangin’ party must be the place over the road.” I said, looking in awe at the rainbow colours of lasers and lights, the hip-hop music popping off. It was big. Too big. There were ponies outside with a gazebo over a table with red plastic cups neatly formed into a triangle on each end. It was hectic when the ping pong ball went into the cup. Some were chatting up the mares, getting close as he’d put his hoof beside her on the wall. The mare would bite her lip and look into his pulling eyes like being mind-controlled. Bon pulled up at the curb.

“Right, homie. I’m goin’ in and out. You sit here and wait. Shit might go down if it doesn’t go our way.” I said as I shoved the UZI down my jeans.

“Alright, I’m gonna ride around the block. If shit hits the fan, I got you, dog.” Bon grinned as she pulled out another pistol out of nowhere. I smirked. Why am I surprised?

“Damn straight, dog. I’ll meet your ass in hell if I don’t make it.” I said as I lunged out of the white Buffalo S whip before closing the door. Bon scrolled down the window, popping her cream-furred face out, wearing shades.

“Then my ass better start prayin’. Get that dough and get your orange ass back.” she replied. I just waved my hoof and walked towards the joyful uproar as I heard her drive off.

‘Nothin’! You will be nothin’, you useless bitch!’

My ma would scream at me when I got into trouble, throwing and smashing my toys around my room, fitting for a mare who had little patience. My ma is a cheat and a liar, meeting other stallions that me and Big Mac never saw before when my pa was out doing work or out with his so-called ‘friends.’ She would go out with the stallion in a tight black dress and with makeup on when she was supposed to be watching us. We asked pa once who her friend was. It didn’t end well, considering that he beat her. I still can’t believe they stayed together after their scrap.

My so-called parents altered me for the worse when I was young. I wanted to be a racer. I started drawing with crayons, making colourful pictures of me in a racing car, with a happy face, with my dog, Winona and Big Mac in the back, zooming away to finish the race. It's funny and hard to believe that I was once that filly wrapped up in a pink princess dress, and now I’m—this, wearing a backward green cap, green cargo shorts, and a blank plain shirt with a chain around my neck. Once I left the orphanage, the gang named the Mareami Bucks brought me in with open arms. It was an appeal I couldn’t waste. I had no place to go, no way to make dough. I didn’t want to end up like a prostitute on the lanes.

I had a role in the gang, pulling up on debt day and night from druggies that paid for ounces of cocaine or whatever gets them fucked up, selling our drugs to different wholesalers from different gangs, especially to a stallion called Brodick, a member of the Vatos. In my spare time, well, I do what everypony else does these days: casual sex at the strip clubs, downing my poison with the homies, sniffing this and smoking that, and occasionally kicking the fuck out of somepony. It has become so second nature, our way of living in the western region. They say the west of Mareami is the worst region of them all. Well, their right. You should look at our fuckin’ mayor; he looks like his wife just died and had hooked up with a hooker. He’s the one meant to be looking after the western neighbourhoods, and he doesn’t… Good. Just how we all like it: crazy and fucked up.

“Damn girl, you lookin’ hella fine, shawty. Tell me what that mouth do?” a frisky teenage stallion babbled as he held a red plastic cup. His gang, behind him, snickered as they watched this idiot look me up and down. I raised an unamused brow. If an earth pony mare with tattoos sprawled up her neck and arms and wearing a chain is ‘hella fine’, then this colt definitely has a taste.

“This mouth will rip your fuckin’ neck out. Go and fuck with somepony else.” I faced the unstable pony as he looked on as if he didn’t hear me.

“Come on, let’s go—” the stupid clown went to wrap his hoof around my neck. Not fuckin’ likely. Before he could touch me, a nice swing to his jaw sent his eyes rolling into his sockets. His group laughed uncontrollably as the stallion looked shell-shocked on the grass, trying to speak. All around me, the party didn’t stop; in fact, the party got louder as everypony gazed and laughed at the knocked-out pony. I must admit, I enjoyed that one. A clean hit like that gave me the flutters. I looked up at the hysterical group.

“Who’s next?” I stood my ground as the gang slowly backed off. Right, back to business. I turned my eyes back on track and trotted in, the smell of drugs and alcohol hitting me like a truck, a pleasant truck of chemicals.

When I trotted in, holy fuckin’ shit. There was more fur than clothes, the booming sound of the cultural West side hip-hop intensifying as soon as step through the frame of the door. Bodies touched, lips teased to the beat of the tune as I tried to trot on by, but that husky scent of sweat was alluring, the grinding and dancing, the hot breaths mixing with the sexy atmosphere of heat. I wanted to stop and pick a chick to lock lips with, to be lost in the moment of the party and drink the night away. I almost did.

There was a faded mare, in her early twenties, sitting on a stained, cut brown sofa next to another mare kissing a stallion on his lap, snorting a white line off the coffee table. Her nostrils was like a fuckin’ hoover, there wasn’t a crumb of cocaine left on that table. I wouldn’t have to sweet talk that mare, she’s so high and fucked on drugs that she was practically asking to be taken advantage. Poor girl, any moment now, a buck will show up and take advantage of her. It's as easy as that. But I won’t be that pony, I need something to do before I decide to have a quickie with anypony.

“Now where would a slippery weasel like Brodick be hidin’ in a shit hole like this?” I murmured, looking around the crib with sharp eyes. No sign of him. Figures, he’s not the type to be in big crowds, he’s the type to use the big crowds to hide and get away. As much as he is a coward, he’s really fuckin’ hard to catch. It isn’t my style to be sneaky, but I’ll make an exception for Brodick.

The backyard was just as loud and crowded, with mares and stallions in the pool, their clothes nowhere in sight. There was also a zebra in the jacuzzi, shades on, leaning back, his arms around two mares. I could only imagine what the mares were doing under the steaming, bubbly water with their hooves. Lucky bastard. Other than that, no Brodick.

Upstairs was pretty much what I expected. Fuckin’, fuckin’ and more fuckin’, I was surprised to see no pony fuckin’ on the staircase. The scent of sex was strong up here, moaning, creaking, the mare in one of the rooms telling him to go harder while I’m mentally telling the bitch to fuck off. There was a couple fuckin’ spread eagle, a threesome with two bucks and a bisexual orgy in the next room. Yeah, I checked, and yet again, I thought about joining in but, no Brodick, no fun.

I knocked on the last door, not hearing much noise coming from inside. Simultaneously, a flush was heard from inside. “Yeah, yeah, hold on, I’m getting out.” The voice inside said, a familiar raspy tone reaching my ears. I grinned. It was Brodick.

I shuck my head, leaning against the wall. I pulled out the UZI, looking it over, waiting for Brodick to come out. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face. The door opened and sure enough, there he was: an earth pony with his sky blue fur and black frizzled mane, his wide orange eyes looked onto mine. shirtless, boxer hanging of his ass, jeans around his hooves and a little bit of white under his nostrils. Yeah, typical druggy, but a druggy with street cred.

“Shit!” Brodick said under his breath as he was about to rush back inside the bathroom. I slammed the door shut in his face and advanced towards him, pressing him against the wall, my tattooed arm pressed against his neck and UZI pressed against his gut. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, cabrón. I’m chill.”

“Well, well, it's good to see you again. You’ve been a sneaky motherfucker, you know that? A pain in my ass.” I pressed the UZI deeper into his gut, watching the bastard squirm. “You have a debt to pay.”

“Vale, vale! I have the cash, chica! Just let me go and I’ll get it! Then that’s it! Vamos! The Vatos Locos are done with The Mareami Bucks, we don’t want anything to do with the Cartel’s dope! Fuck that!” Brodick shouted with a nervous undertone, her eyes dilated and his heart pounding.

“Nah, I’m not playin’ it your way. Knowin’ you, you’ve thought of ten ways to escape with your slimy ass. Now don’t be a fool and tell me where the bag at.” I pressed, shoving him harder against the wall. I watch him look around frantically, breathing heavily. Then his eyes snapped to the side of me.

“Hola, amigo!” a sudden voice said in the direction of the staircase, making me turn to see three ponies: a unicorn stallion, a pegasus mare and a unicorn stallion, most likely with the Vatos gang with that Latino talk. I gritted my teeth, seeing their wary eyes and with me having one of their boys pinned like this, I knew shit was about to go down.

Not now…

“Hola ese.” I responded, watching them advance with narrowed eyes. They seemed confident, seeing how they outnumbered me 4 to 1, I grimaced, in this fuck fest, I’ll have to be the aggressor if I’m going get a chance to make it out alive.

“Oh, we saw you tryin’ to creep up in here, chica.” The pegasus mare chimed in, looking me up and down.

“Yeah?” I responded quickly, acting immediately as I revealed the UZI and aimed it at her. “You saw this, motherfucker?” that's when the chaos began, the pegasus reached and pulled out a Glock. I didn’t think about it, I pulled the trigger, shooting three shots, the first bullet snapping her head back, making her crumple to the floor, a splatter of thick blood exiting the hole I created while the recoil of the UZI sent the other two bullets into the far wall and into the ceiling.

The effect was immediate and, if I was being honest, I knew I was way over my head as soon as I lost control of my machine gun, the awkward stance of holding Brodick against the wall and shooting a rapid-fire submachine gun was too much to handle cos the next thing I knew, Brodick head-butted hard, sending me sprawling backwards into the opposite wall as Brodick quickly made a quick getaway towards the Vatos boys and down the staircase, the two quickly taking cover in two rooms, opposite sides of the hallway.

“Waste that fucking bitch, boys!” Brodick barked from down the stairs.

I quickly followed suit, charging into one of the doors just in time to escape a volley of bullets flying where I was, splintering the wood of the door frame. Screams and bellows erupted in the room I barged into, the orgy turning into who could screech the loudest competition.

“FUCK!” I shouted in frustration, adrenaline kicking from the near hit, feeling something trickle down my head from where I was headbutted. “FUCKIN’ VATOS BOYS!” I peeked around the corner, seeing for a split second that the two others had taken cover behind the door frames, the unicorn holding a Glock in his telekinesis in the opposite room from me. I moved back into cover as fast as I could, another hail of bullets streaming my way. “FUCKIN’ ASSHOLES!”

“Jaja, ¿¡qué vas a hacer ahora, perra!?” I heard one of them shout. That made my blood boil, I didn’t have a fuckin’ clue what the cunt said but the way he said it in a mocking tone… he better hope this wall is made out of iron. I didn’t think, I just did. I looked at the wall that split my room from the unicorns and sprinted, growling as I dived full force with my shoulder into the plasterboard wall and broke through, watching as the grin of the unicorn faltered into a wide-eyed stare, a look of shock on his face, looking down the barrel of my gun mid dive. Wiped that smile of his face real quick. The unicorn couldn’t change his aim fast enough before a spray of bullets trailed up from his torso to his eye, leaving one more to go.

Suddenly, a spray of bullets from across the hallway penetrated the wall beside me a few seconds after I landed on my stomach, the aimless shots sailing over my head thankfully. I responded in kind, on my side, I offloaded the rest of the ammo in the UZI into the wall where I thought the last Vatos boy was until the clicks were heard. As my luck has it, grunting in pain was heard and I smiled, standing from my prone state. Walking out to the hallway, I saw that I got the earth pony good, seeing two bullets in his stomach, on the floor, writhing in pain. I didn’t pay him any mind, I ran for the staircase to catch up with Brodick before the fucker escapes for good this time.

There was more commotion as I trotted downstairs, the music was still booming but mixed with frantic screams and audible shouting in the Vato’s language, ponies rushing for the exit. I guess the music didn’t mask the firefight from upstairs as I hoped. Damn it! Why did them pricks have to show up?

As I turned down the staircase, two more Vatos boys showed up from the bottom of the stairs, adding more problems to the fuck fest I created. A unicorn stallion in a grim wife beater held a hunting shotgun, its metallic form encased in his magic. Near him was the zebra I noticed earlier from the hot tub, but this time holding a pistol in his hoof, his eyes eager. My anger grew at the sight of more obstacles between me and Brodick.

With no time to waste, I threw the empty UZI with all my earth pony strength, striking the unicorn’s face. The contact jolted him back, his magical hold wavering, the shotgun clattering to the ground. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I tackled the zebra mid-dive from the staircase, bringing him down to the gritty asphalt. My earth pony's strength and the zebra’s agility created a violet tussle for the Glock.

As we fought, the unicorn recovered faster than I would have liked, picking up his shotgun off the ground and cocked it with an ominous click. He took aim, making my eyes widen, a burst of adrenaline powering my muscles. I was quick to act, I shifted my focus to the zebra’s body instead of the Glock, using all my strength to twist the zebra’s body between me and the barrel of the shotgun just in time to hear the mighty shot being fired from the shotgun. I was thankful that I wasn’t the one screaming in agony, the shot being point blank in the zebra’s bare back, his grip on the Glock slackening.

I took the pistol from his loosened grasp, but I wasn’t quick enough however as before I could align my shot to the unicorn, the unicorn had reloaded already, the barrel aimed between my eyes. “Fuck…” I muttered, time slowing as my mind raced for options, but my mind was blank. Then, abruptly, the sharp and precise shot rang out split through the air, but it wasn’t from the shotgun. A splatter of warm blood hit my face, the unicorn, his eyes wide, a bloody hole between his eyes, crumpled to the floor.

Behind him, a M9 in her hoof, smoking. With an expression of fury and focus stood Bon.

"Nice, AJ, real fuckin' nice! Can you go a day without messin' up?” Bon said with her pissed of tone, her hoof outstretched.

“Dog, fuck you! These Vatos boys were up my ass the moment I stepped in!” I replied, taking her hoof with mine, and pulling myself up to my hooves.

“Yeah, whatever, let's just get this fuckin’ asshole before we are docked our pay.” I nodded, picking up the shotgun, and looking it over. It was in fine condition, I think I’ll keep it. Suddenly, the sound of a car stopping at high speed screeched from outside the front door where a purple, open roof benefactor surano, Brodick in the driving seat, his head sticking out of the window.

“Tell Filthy Rich he’s not getting his money, chica! Hahaha!” Brodick laughed, speeding off.

“Son of a bitch! Come on, Aj! We can’t let this fucker dip!” Bon shouted, tucking in her M9 before running for the exit. I followed her, swinging the shotgun around my back.

Once Bon and I scrambled into our white Buffalo S, I slammed the key into the ignition and fired up the engine. The deep growl of the engine surged through the chassis, sounding like a war cry as I slammed the pedal to the floor and peeled out onto the street. My hoof gripped the wheel with practised ease—almost as if it was second nature to me. Brodick might have had the faster car, but I felt I was the better driver. Each move he made, I anticipated and countered, weaving through the night with relentless determination.

“Come on, come on, come on, Aj! You're lettin’ him get away!” Bon shouted, smacking her hoof against the dashboard, the M9 in her other hoof.

“Chill out! I got this!” I responded, taking a sharp turn.

The night’s chilling air was now alive with electricity as we tore through the streets, tailing Brodick. My eyes were focused, locked onto the taillights flickering ahead as Brodick darted and swerved recklessly, trying to shake me off his tail. My blood was up, my adrenaline up the fucking roof as my precious car to its limits, its engine roaring with power and energy.

Brodick turned a corner once again, tyres screeching against the tarmac, his Surano nearly fishtailing as it struggled to grip the road. I followed effortlessly, closing the gap between us. Bon braced herself, grinning at the thrill of the chase. Then her eyes glanced over at the rearview mirror.

“Ah, fuck! We got company, Aj” Bon shouted, tension in her voice as she spotted two more whips pulled up, sliding onto the streets behind us. They were sleek, sharp—a pair of black menacing Sedans, windows tinted black, a classic for the Vatos to drive.

“Shit! Alright, just keep them off our tail, dog!” I yelled back, my focus narrowing down to the street in front of me and Brodick, leaving the new problem to Bon.

“On it!” Bon said, twisting on her seat, raising her pistol and rolling down her window. She leaned out, the cool night wind whipping through her short blue and pink mane as she took aim. I could hear the first shots ring out, shape pops echoing down the streets, targeting the lead Vatos car as ponies ducked and took cover, the hood’s instinct.

I grinned, the chase intensifying, the Vatos relentless. It was no secret that I was a thrill-seeker, robbing stores, getting into fights, hell, get me on a roller coaster and that will get me high on endorphins. But nothing, and I mean nothing gets me more fucked up on adrenaline like a race, chasing or being chased. It is an enhancing drug; my senses sharpen, my mind goes blank, a constant grin on my face. I’m addicted to it. So when I hear the Vatos engines growling like caged beasts, slowly gaining on us, bullets pinging against the asphalt and our bumper as they open fire, trying to disable my car, I can’t help but laugh.

I quickly swerved into an alley as I followed the fucker, the headlights revealing the graffiti walls and dumpsters, the tight space just enough for my car’s width, he took a sharp left, then a right, a route from alley to alley that he hoped would confuse me. I could see what Brodick was trying to do, shake me off his tail with these labyrinthine routes around the street, but it's not that simple, it's impossible to lose me while I'm like this, not even a Bugatti could escape me.

Behind me, gunfire continued. Bon was clearly having a fuckin’ good time, half her body outside the window, shouting vulgar insults while returning fire with a smile on her face. Bon says I keep messin’ up as if it was a bad thing, but other than being foalhood friends, that’s the only reason why she loves being around me, she gets off on the thrill, and I seem to fuck up where ever I go. So you can imagine how fuckin’ moist her cunt must be right now. I watched in the rearview mirror as with a well-placed shot at the driver from Bon made the first Vatos car to swerve uncontrollably, clipping a corner of a building, spinning out. It crash ended with a crunch of metal and glass.

“Hahahaha! That’s one down, bitches!” Bon roared through the wind, ducking back into the car just in time as a bullet whizzed past where her head had been. Bon reloaded with ease, her knowledge of firearms showing, a glint in her eyes.

I forced the Buffalo S harder, the engine straining as we bolted back onto the main road again. The Surano was just ahead, weaving through the late traffic carelessly. The light from streetlamps and storefronts blurred by as we drove down the road.

The last Sedan was persistent, shadowing my every move, the driver clearly skilled behind the wheel. Bullets flew one by one, one shattering my back window, sending shards spraying into the car, momentarily breaking my focus. “ASSHOLE!” I barked, looking over my shoulder to see the damage, gritting my teeth before zoning back on the chase, my eyes narrowed.

“Shit… Hang on!” I warned Bon, spotting an intersection up ahead. I needed to time this perfectly, speeding up at the right time as the lights turned red. Brodick burst forward past the intersection, I didn’t hesitate as we followed—an inch away from a fatal crash as a truck horn honk, narrowly missing us.

As I cleared the intersection, my heart pounding in my chest, I saw that Brodick made a sudden turn and pulled up into a parking garage. Using the throttle and hand brake to turn into a drift, I followed him, the dimly lit structure echoing the sound of the roaring engines. The last sedan behind me flowed for a moment, hesitant, but ended up following behind us, its headlight creating longs shadows.

I was sharp inside the garage, drifting and turning passed concrete pillars and parked cars, making it a more deadly game of cat and mouse. I weaved between columns, my reflexes on point. Bon took a couple of shots at the Vatos Sedan before she caught one of its front tyres, crashing I into a pillow with full force, destroying the trunk completely.

“Hahaha! Now that’s what I’m talking about, homie!” I cheered, feeling the chase coming to an end as I made my way up to the upper levels. I spotted the Benefactor Surano at a stand still, its door open wide. The bastard was now on hoof, and now, so are we.

Bon nodded, checking her pistol’s ammunition over before we both got out of the car, slinging my shotgun from around my back. Brodick can’t get far up here, nowhere to go other than where he entered. I let the shotgun hang as I and Bon chased Brodick to a dead-end, flanking him into a corner, both pistol and shotty barrels pointed at him.

Trapped and visibly shaking, Brodick’s gaze flitted anxiously between my shotgun and Bon’s pistol, his back pressed against the cold, unyielding concrete of the parking garage wall. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, glistening in the dim overhead lighting, as he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with fear.

“I don’t have the dough!” he confessed, his voice a strained whisper of defeat. “I couldn’t pull it together. Not in time.”

Disappointment welled up inside me, heavy and cold. “Well that’s a damn shame, Brodick. You know the drill—no cash, no mercy. We’re taking your ass straight to Filthy Rich. He’ll deal with you himself.”

Panic flashed across Brodick's face, the severity of his situation sinking in. But then, as if struck by a sudden thought, his expression shifted to one of desperate cunning. “Wait—there’s something else!” he blurted, motioning frantically towards his car. “Something new on the streets!”

Cautiously, with one eye still trained on him and hoof ready on our weapons, Bon and I followed him to the trunk of his purple Benefactor Surano. With a shaky hoof, he lifted the lid to reveal a black duffel bag amid a jumble of other less significant items. He reached in, pulled out the bag, and unzipped it.

Inside, neatly arranged in rows, see-through bags containing tiny, pale green tablets, each marked with a subtle ‘M.’ Brodick hastily grabbed a bag full, holding it out towards us like a peace offering.

“These—these are Memorine pills.” he explained hurriedly, his voice eager yet tinged with anxiety. “It’s some super advanced stuff, ese. A neuro-stimulant that goes right for the hippocampus to boost memory connections or something like that, you know? Folks can remember things they’ve forgotten or pushed way back in their minds, super clear like. But it ain’t all pretty—comes with heavy side effects. Still, on the street? This stuff is gold. There are 12 lbs in the bag, just take them off my hooves.

I studied the small tablets closely. Each was the size of common aspirin but coated with a matte finish to ease swallowing. The promise of such a drug was both intriguing and terrifying. Memorine's ability to dredge up the past could be a valuable tool in our world where information was as good as currency. I need this…

“You're saying this stash clears your debt?” I asked, my tone skeptical yet interested, aware of the potential upheaval this drug could introduce into the streets of Mareami.

“Yes, it's worth more than what I owe, chica.” Brodick affirmed, nodding vigorously. “And I'm done after this, ese. The Vatos Locos are out. We don't want nothing to do with the Mareami Bucks anymore.”

Bon and I shared a long look, the weight of the decision pressing upon us. Here was a chance to not only settle a debt but to potentially gain a new, highly valuable commodity. Bon didn’t look too impressed by what he was offering, snarling in his face.

“No deal, ese!” Bon suddenly said, pressing the M9 against his forehead. “You can do better than that, eh? If you don’t start choking up the cash you owe, Filthy Rich isn’t just gonna kill you, it's going to be—slow~” Bon Whispered in his ear, making Brodick look at her with pleading eyes.

“Hold up, dog.” I murmured, keeping my eyes on the bags among bags of pills. “This could be good for the rich bastard’s business… he might even up our pay.”

"I don’t think so, Aj. Filthy Rich is hella tight, you’d have to pull something really gnarly to get a cent more." Bon interjected, looking over at me, lifting her shades up with a hoof. “But you already knew that… what the fuck are you playing at?”

I didn’t respond, it was a rhetorical question, she already knew what I was up to. "Alright, I'll take your offer. But if this stuff isn't legit, we'll find you again, Brodick. No more games." I warned him, my tone as hard as steel.

Relief momentarily washed over Brodick's features, though it was quickly replaced by a sombre resignation. He knew the stakes and the thin thread on which his fate now balanced.

Bon wasn’t happy with the deal, watching me as I zipped up the duffle bag and slinging over my shoulder. "Go on! Bail, fool!" I told Brodick, and that’s what he did, the little weasel drove off without looking back.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious, Aj! You are a stupid piece of SHIT if you think this drug can fix your fucked head!” Bon said once Brodick left, closing in on me face to face.

"Fuck—you, Bon Bon. I need this, it might help me remember what went down that night." I replied, fury in my eyes as I stared her down. Bon Bon growled, knowing exactly what I was talking about.

“I’ve told you what went down? There was a gas leak, the orphanage got lit and no pony survived except Big Mac, you, and me. You got caught in the explosion, it messed you up hella bad and now, you can’t remember jackshit! Get over it, Aj! There’s no point in trippin’ about it.”

I snapped, I shouldn’t have done it but I did. I struck Bon Bon in the cheek, snapping her head to the side, her shades flying from her face. “My ma, yeah? Was burned to death… My younger bros and sisters died in the worst way possible in that orphanage… do you understand? DON’T YOU EVER TELL ME TO GET OVER IT YOU HEARTLESS BITCH!!!” I roared in Bon Bon’s face, saliva spat with the ferocity of a mad mare, glaring with a look of murder

Bon Bon rotated her jaw, her hoof rubbing her cheek softly. Her eyes were narrow, glaring dagger at me. She opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped herself, opting to point at me warningly as she trotted over to the shades and picked it up before heading back to the whip, hopping into the passenger side with a slam of the door.

I closed my eyes and sighed in frustration, my own jaw rotating. “Damn it.” I whispered under my breath. I have anger issues, it's true but, I shouldn’t have said it, I went too far.

I opened the truck, tossing the duffle bag and shotgun inside, before I sat in the driving seat, just staring straight ahead. I didn’t touch the wheel, I didn’t even start the engine, I just sat there like the biggest piece of shit. “Bon Bon, I—”

“Shut up and drive, dog.” Bon Bon just said with a pissed-off tone.

“I shouldn’t of said what I said, it wasn’t cool of me—”

“I said drive, Aj.” Bon Bon interrupted again, feeling more anger.

“Hope was your ma too… you know my pain of losing everything—”

“I swear to Celestia, I will fuckin’ shoot you.”

“Your my gal, Bon Bon… my best friend… we’re in this together, you and me against the whole fuckin’ world.”

“Alright, alright! Just start fuckin’ drivin’! Save your speech when I give a fuck.” Bon Bon said with annoyance, finally facing me with her shades back resting on her snout. I just looked at her for a moment before nodding, starting up the Buffalo. I drove down the parking garage, passed the crashed Sedan and on the streets once again, taking Bon Bon back to her crib. The mood in the car wasn’t one of tension or awkwardness, for me, it was familiarity. Me and Bon Bon disagree all the time, leading to an argument or a fight, that’s just the way it is. We are both angry ponies in an angry world, too angry about the past when I should be angry about the present. But, despite my anger, I can’t bring myself to hate my friend who has stuck with me through thick and thin.

I park on the side of the curb, stopping the car outside Bon Bon’s crib. She didn’t say anything as she just got out and closed the door, walking to her porch. I sighed before I drove off, thinking it was a good time to go the strip club to get that quickie.