A Drink Between Friends

Chapters

7'o clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
Cheese, would you play me a memory?
Better than drinking alone

7'o clock on a Saturday

Fin Sharp was the head detective within the Ponyville police force. In the year 2026 AC, Ponyville was the largest city in the world, home to over ten million creatures. If even 99.9% of the population were law-abiding citizens, there would still be ten thousand criminals to contend with. Needless to say, Fin was a very busy stallion.

With 131 districts all spiraling out from the center of what was once a very small village, Ponyville covered one square mile for each district of the city. Highways sat above most of the city, giving quick access to each major district’s major road, and if you didn’t happen to be in one of those districts, well, good luck getting anywhere. Congestion was not something foreseen when the initial plans for the city were drawn up, nor was the rapid and generally absurd level of expansion and migration that came with it. After all, twenty years ago, Ponyville was only home to about a thousand ponies.

Being the father of six and married to the oldest legacy Ponyville had, it was rare that Fin ever got any time to himself. Work, the orchard, the wife, the kids; only so many hours in a week, or even a month. And yet, in spite of all this, Fin had found a single night every month in which he could shove all of his responsibilities onto someone else.

On either the second or third Saturday of every month, between deadlines past and deadlines future, there was always enough time for him to attend to the family, mute his work phone, and go into town to visit his favorite bar, Tipsy Wings.

With his plans made and his attendees confirmed, Fin was headed out the door of the ancient farm house when his oldest son blocked his way. No thanks to his father, Whisky had grown up to be a very large stallion. Were it not for the white manes and orange irises they shared, it would be easier to think Whiskey was his uncle’s son. And yet, Whiskey was, without question, his mother’s son.

“Howdy, Pa,” the freckled orange giant said.

Looking up at his hairy boy, Fin ran through a few scenarios. One, I lie and say I’m going in for work. Unlikely to work on Whiskey. Two, I say we’ll talk about what we do with our wives. Likely to make him more curious, if a little put off. Three… that might work.

Fin cleared his throat. “Good evening son. I’m about to leave, so…”

“C-can Ah come with ya?” he asked, sheepishly.

Fin brought a hoof to his beard. “Do you even know where I’m going?”

The young giant swallowed. “That smokin’ bar out in District 5, right? Wing Tips or somethin’?”

“Legally speaking, Tipsy Wings is actually part of District 16.” From a lanyard around his neck, Fin picked up his phone. It was about 18:30. He either needed to scare Whiskey away somehow, or bring him along just so he wasn’t late. “Here are your conditions.”

The young stallion nodded eagerly. “Ah’m listenin’.”

“You’re the driver.”

“Oh…”

“And you cannot smoke.”

“Aw! Come on, Pa!”

Fin shook his head. “Those are the rules. Yes or no, son.”

Whiskey really wanted to go. He was the happy accident that brought Fin and Applejack together, and as of a month ago, he was finally 21. Between the bad influence of his cousin and his father, he’d taken to cigars and alcohol like a fish took to water. Apple family tradition introduced children to alcohol at a young age to scare them at first, and then let them try the good stuff once they were eighteen. They needed to be acquainted with it if only to assist with the cider-making process that helped pay for the orchard. Whiskey, however, just liked the alcohol, and finally, he didn’t have to be on the orchard to have it.

Applejack doesn’t like smoking, however, so to indulge in their habits, Fin and everyone else beholden to the head Apple finds other places to do it. The son and the father have a barn dedicated to their shared love of tobacco, and they’ve spent many hours talking over cigars there. It was their time to bond, and Whiskey would smoke with his father whenever he got the chance. Only, there was one night every month where he’d be left out.

Older than a majority of the family friends, Whiskey has always been ‘the kid at the adult’s table’ for as long as he could remember. He loved to be a part of the conversation when Fin would talk to his friends, but had never been formally invited to the ‘club.’ He knew they met up outside of gatherings, and they were all always clued in to the latest news. Always feeling like he was part of the wrong generation, he’d waited for the day he was finally old enough to legally get into a bar to hang out with them.

With his looks, not a soul would question his presence in one, but with his mother’s former days as the element of honesty and automatic lie detector, and his father’s profession being that of a lie detector, Whiskey has yet to get away with anything in his twenty-one years. To finally get the chance to go but be denied the very thing that brought him closer to his father…

Out of the corner of his eye, Whiskey saw his mother pass into the living room from upstairs. One green eye, one raised brow, and a flick of her hoof outward was all it took.

Whiskey nodded. “Alright, deal.”

Fin let out a breath. “Then let’s go, I’m supposed to be there by seven.” He turned toward the stairs and called, “Applejack, I’m taking him with me!”

And then from the living room came, “Ah figured as much. Y’all have fun.”

Confused, Fin investigated to find his wife. The ancient wooden building creaked with the lightest touch, so how she’d managed to get past him unnoticed was more than concerning. Still, the forty-two-year-old mare appeared as she always did in the old rocking chair. She had the TV remote, a cider at her side, a set of knitting needles and a ball of yarn in her lap.

Scanning the living room, other than her, it was totally empty. Fin raised a brow at her. “You free tonight too?”

Applejack nodded, keeping her eyes on her yarn. “Yessir.”

“Where are all the kids?”

“Dumb and dumber are at the bakery, Gin’s at the shelter, and the little ones are at that bowlin’-alley-game-center-party-place fer Kick Flip’s birthday party.” As expected of the mother bear.

“Those poor boys,” Fin sighed.

Applejack shrugged. “Haze is there, which means Dash is also there, so at least somepony will keep Craft occupied. Goddess knows she can’t kill the fun for everypony.”

“Well, as long as everypony is accounted for, I will see you later tonight.”

She blew a kiss, and he caught it in the face. “See ya later, Sugarcube.”

It had been about fourteen years since Applejack was last pregnant, but she might still be capable… But, it was already past six thirty and Discord was the worst stickler for punctuality, of all things.

“Love you!” Fin returned the kiss, and turned for the door. “Driver, fetch the car.”

“Ah can’t believe you’re makin’ me drive…” Whiskey grumbled.

The regular crowd shuffles in

In the heart of Ponyville was the historical district, District 1. A few of the original homes still stood here, but that was about all that remained of the little village. Even Sweet Apple Acres had been modernized and expanded with roads, tractors, and processing machines. The town was numbered in a spiral with 1 at the center, Sweet Apple Acres directly south of it being 2, and the rest following counterclockwise. Save his own home, which was at the height of ‘one of my wife’s best friends runs the government,’ the rest of the inner ring was where all the money was. Towering skyscrapers, luxury hotels and malls, massive apartment complexes that made buying a house look cheap by comparison. The richest of the rich fought for real estate here, and even having a billboard would set you back tens of thousands.

That, of course, also made this the easiest area to travel to. Multi-lane roads made in tandem with businesses and the local government, easy paths for ponies just driving straight through, and an entrance and exit to all the highways in every district. The next ring over, however, was not so affluent. A mix of commercial and residential areas, Districts 10 through 25 house most ponies and schools. Here, single family homes became common and relatively affordable.

There was, however, a very sharp contrast between the edges of these rings, not counting the raised highway that kept them apart. One passes through a tunnel and all the bright lights and glass walls are replaced by brick buildings, moderately well-kept lawns, and varying degrees of homelessness. Some things looked nice and other things looked like they’d been there for twenty years and not in a good way.

The building they were headed toward had absolutely been here for twenty years, even though it wasn’t actually that old.

“Is… is that the place, Pa?” Whiskey asked.

“Yep, go on and park right there by your uncle’s truck.”

Whiskey narrowed his eyes in the summer dusk. “Huh. So it is.”

Despite the distance between Mac’s family and theirs, about six miles to be exact, there had never been a straight path. It’d become even more crowded as the years went by. Because of this, Tipsy Wings has served as their meeting place for decades now. Some of Fin’s more expensive cigars, which he absolutely should not have bought, are stored here. It was a rundown old red brick building that had been stained by time. A bright neon sign spelled the name in cyan letters with a green martini glass between a pair of feathers ‘animated’ into a spilling martini glass every few seconds. The windows were all closed and covered by blackout curtains, so without the sign, you’d never know this palace wasn't some two-storey home.

Whiskey parked the truck next to his Uncle’s, and both stallions exited the car. To be completely honest, the young stallion was a little nervous about his first foray here. In spite of what might be assumed based on his common companion cousin Malus, Whiskey was as straight an arrow as there ever was. No bars, no mares, no alcohol without explicit permission, he wouldn’t even smoke without going to Pa first. (Mostly because Ma’s answer was never no but always some rebuke about the negative side effects.)

Fin moved toward the door and Whiskey followed like his shadow. A chime rang as it opened, an old-fashioned bell on a hanging arm.

Alerted to their presence, the bartender looked up from the customer he was talking with to greet them. “Good evening, Fin!” Then, confused, he tilted his head over and upward to get a good look at Whiskey. “You get some new muscle on the force?”

Fin signaled Whiskey to stand next to him, then threw a hoof around him. “This is actually my son and DD for the night, Whiskey. Say hi to Loop-de-loop, or Loop-de as we call him.”

Loop-de was an older pegasus with a dull periwinkle coat, a dull seafoam green mane, and bright magenta eyes behind small square glasses. Whiskey guessed he could’ve been old enough to be his grandfather, or maybe more. He was clean and well-kept, and in spite of the exterior, the whole bar seemed to be. A polished wooden counter with a brass lip, lights under the tables to keep the lights on the ceiling low, dark velvet seats and booths, a stage at the back where a couple ponies were sitting with acoustic guitars. Not a whole lot of customers right now, just them and a trio at the bar with Loop-de.

Whiskey dipped his head. “Evenin’, sir.”

Loop-de whistled. “You’re a biggun’ ain’t’cha? Why don’t you come here and put this on for me.” He took out a bright green lanyard from under the table and held it up for the young stallion. It had a tag on the front that read ‘DD.’ Truly, there was no chance of him getting a drink tonight. “I can’t believe it’s been twenty years already.” Loop-de said as he put the lanyard on him.

Fin sighed. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

Loop-de shrugged, then went under the counter to grab a box with Fin’s name on it. “You’re the one who brought him. I still remember the night he was made. You two had nearly drained the bar. I had to restock just about everything. Speaking of, what are you having tonight?”

Fin took the box and thought for a moment. “It was a good night. You know what? Make me a caramel apple, just like back then. I’ll think about having one of these after I talk to the guys.”

Loop-de nodded and put the box back under the counter. “Yessir. I’ll bring it up since the rest of your buddies are already upstairs, save the noodle.”

Fin chuckled. “Careful, he has a thing about names.”

“Oh, I know the rules. I’ll be up with this in a jiffy.”

“Thanks, Loop-de.”

The duo made their way to the staircase at the back. Carpeted and lined with yellow lights under large framed posters of bands and movies, it was a little space filled with a history of customers. Whisky stopped at one of the signatures on the wall. “Pa, does this signature say ‘Drum Roll?’”

Fin stared at it, and yes, it did indeed say that. “I think so. Do you know him or something?”

Whiskey was aghast. “Pa, that’s the lead singer of Food Fighters!” He pointed to a long-haired stallion in a poster above the signature. “This guy!”

Fin raised a brow. “Huh. I wonder when they were here? Well, Loop-de has collected a bunch of signatures over the years.”

And so he had. The further up the staircase they went, the more signatures and ponies Whiskey recognized. Food Fighters was a band that often found its way into the CD player in the truck over the years, and Whiskey had played a rhythm game long ago that featured one of their songs. He’d been a fan since childhood, and to think, the band had been here of all places. Familiar names and faces passed by, and Whiskey was more and more awestruck with each step.

“What kinda place is this?” He asked.

“Somewhere people can disappear without being bothered. If you see somebody you know, mind your own business, alright? If they wanted to be accosted by fans, they’d hold an event somewhere.”

They reached the top of the stairs where the second floor opened up to several booths in a dark, narrow room. The only occupants were ponies Whiskey knew, so he figured that somepony might show up later. Given that the signatures were anywhere from small bands to A-list stars, Whiskey could only imagine who might appear.

Upon seeing his nephew, Mac covered his mouth. “Son of a bitch, he ain’t twenty-one already, is he?”

Fin raised a hoof as he approached his usual table. “I know, I know.”

Soarin rubbed at his temples. “Good Goddess, I was still dating Dash when you were born.”

“Well, you know how it is,” Cheese said. “Put a few pies in the oven one day and the next they’re asking you to go to college in a sky city hundreds of miles away.”

“You could even be trapped in stone for a thousand years between blinking!” Discord said, appearing only after the sentence had filled the air.

Taking their seats, Whisky and Fin joined the rest of the stallions around the big circular booth.

“Everybody ordered drinks already?” Fin asked.

Mac shook his head. “Ah didn’t think Ah was gonna need one, but now… Goddess, twenty-one years.”

Whiskey frowned. “Ain’t Malus older than me?”

“Sure, but Ah didn’t meet him til he was already fourteen. Ah saw you an hour after ya were born. Discord, would ya mind sendin’ me home later?”

“It’ll cost you a raspberry pie.”

Mac and Discord shook on it. “Deal.” He let his head fall into his hoof. “Goddess, twenty-one years…”

Discord snapped twice. The first time, nothing visible happened, but the second time, he transformed into an eerily familiar looking stallion. He had a dark gray coat, a slicked back jet-black mane and tail, his usual white beard and eyebrows, and bright, almost glowing red eyes. He’d become a unicorn with a discolored blueish horn, but everything else about him screamed to Whiskey that he’d become a historical figure, but who, he couldn’t say.

The fanged stallion smirked and winked at him. “Don’t think too hard, boy.”

Whiskey looked around for help, and eventually settled on Soarin who simply shook his head. “It’s better to just ignore it. ‘Can of worms’ does not even begin to describe this.”

Discord put an elbow on the table. “Oh, please, ‘can of worms’ certainly does begin to describe it. Could you imagine what ponies would do if they knew my real name? I might get crucified!”

Cheese crossed his hind legs. “Well, it’s not like it’s an open wound or anything. Didn’t you say it was like waking up in another world when you first came to? I can’t imagine many ponies even remember your name, let alone know what you did.”

Soarin sighed. “Mom sure did.”

Whiskey thought back to Downy Snow and her introduction to everyone a few years ago, but couldn’t imagine how she would’ve known Discord, especially not in whatever form this was. He was in a history textbook, wasn’t he? Ancient Equestria? “Were ya before or after the princess—”

“Before. I knew them when they were children!”

Whiskey frowned. “Oh. Maybe Ah am thinking of somepony else.”

He nodded. “You are. Sombra was my son.”

Whiskey nodded, thinking back to the history books about the ‘lord of shadows’ who had nearly conquered Equestria before the princesses appeared to liberate the ponies from slavery and form a new society and free the country of the wendigo plague. Then he thought about it again. “Wait, what?”

“None of that is true, by the by,” Discord added. “What you’re thinking about, that is.”

Whiskey blinked again. “Ah have so many questions.”

Soarin nodded. “We’ve all been there. Like I said, can of worms.”

“And to avoid letting that conversation happen again,” Fin said, “what was that about going off to college hundreds of miles away, Cheese?”

For all his life, Whiskey had known Cheese Sandwich as the smiley father of the Pie family, the only pony who could possibly match Pinkie Pie’s absurd bubbly energy, and the two were something like an infinite dynamo, continually pushing each other along to new heights. They did everything and anything together, and the kids were either dragged or pushed along. Only Cotton, the second child, could really keep up with them, and unlike the rest, Cotton was a pegasus. Cotton was also not known to be a very good person either, and he and Fin had a tenuous relationship. If there was trouble in the Pie family, the source was usually very easy to find.

Cheese was not smiling. “My dear detective, would you be so kind as to share a cigar with me?”

Fin stroked his beard. “It’ll cost ya, depending on what you want of course.”

Cheese pressed his hooves together. “A dozen cupcakes for something strong?”

Discord threw a hoof around the yellow stallion. “Double the order and I can send you home.”

He let out a breath. “Deal.”

“I am, of course, open to more free confections in the event you’d like to share a drink with your son here.”

Whiskey turned and clasped his hooves to his father, who looked at him apathetically. “No. This is his punishment for inviting himself to the bar.”

“Aww, come on!”

Fin crossed his forelegs. “You agreed to the terms. Accept the consequences.”

“Damn it.”

Mac put a hoof on Fin’s shoulder. “Oh, come on, cuz, ya ain’t on duty.”

“No, no…” Cheese interjected. “That’s what a good father does. He sets examples, puts down rules and sticks to them. A bad father bends things more and more until consequences are never followed through, then things turn out the way they do. This is how we got to this point.”

Mac pulled the hoof away and chewed on it. “Well, shit.”

“In that case,” Soarin stepped in, “let’s call Loop-de, and after we order, you can tell us what’s up, Cheese.”

“Ah, the ever reasonable Soarin,” Discord said. “Then call him we shall. Loop-de, dear!” He waited a second then clapped his hooves. In a puff of pink smoke, Loop-de appeared by the table with a pen, paper, and a single drink which Fin had ordered earlier.

“That one’s yours…” he set the whiskey glass down, then took up his pad and paper. “And what’ll the rest of you be having this evening, boys?”

Whiskey scratched his cheek. “Y’all must be here a lot fer him ta be ready like that.”

“It’s a give-and-take relationship,” Loop-de said. “He likes to pretend he’s unpredictable with all his chaos talk, but really, he’s not so different from any other long-time customer. He even helps out for free drinks at times.”

Discord rolled his red eyes. “Come now, you mustn’t ruin my image. That aside, give me an old-fashioned and one of Fin’s good cigars.”

“What are you paying for that with?” Fin asked.

He pursed his lips. “One I owe you.”

“Two and it’s yours.”

He huffed and fell back into the booth. “Very well.” Discord’s horn lit up in red magic and two red notes with the glowing white letters ‘I O U’ on them slid across the table.

Fin snatched them and slid them into his lanyard wallet. “I’ll be redeeming one of these Monday morning.”

“Not very sporting of you to be cheating at work.”

Fin sipped his caramel apple. “Well, I don’t consider kidnapping fair, either. We’ll talk about this later.”

The dark stallion narrowed his eyes. “So we will…”

More often than not, Fin would discuss cases he’s having trouble with at home with Whiskey and Applejack. While he solves a lot on his own and with the department, their perspectives help shed light when things simply aren’t going his way. When he’s truly stumped, the ultimate solution is going to Discord, which doesn’t happen often.

“And you, Cheese?” Loop-de asked.

“I need a double black Manehattan with cherries, and also one of Fin’s good cigars, please.”

Loop-de lowered his brows. “Something gotcha down, lad?”

“The cliffnotes version is that my oldest son wants to go to college on the other side of the country.”

Loop-de’s brows shot up. “A strong double it is. Wonderbolt?”

“Just a beer. You can keep them coming, too. Dash is at this birthday party tonight, and Craft is gonna be there, and I don’t really wanna remember her complaining about being lectured by a fourteen-year-old for the umpteenth time.”

“The terror at her usual work. And for you, Mac?”

“One of my cigars and a strong, stout tall boy.”

Fin nudged Mac. “Come on, do you really wanna settle for less?”

The red stallion glared at the green one. “Only got one pie ta go around. It’s either the beer or the cigar, and Ah want the beer more.”

Fin nodded. “Alright then. I’ll also have what he’s having, but one of my good cigars, of course. Whiskey, you want a juice or a soda or something?”

The young stallion sighed. “Sure, Ah’ll take an orange juice.”

Loop-de finished compiling the order and nodded. “I’ll have it all up in a bit. Discord, if you would.”

Discord clapped his hooves, and Loop-de went back to where he’d come from. With the dark room back to just the six of them, Discord rubbed his shoulder against Cheese. “So? What started this?”

Cheese’s eyes went wide. “Probably him being born.” The stallions chuckled, which made Cheese relax a bit. The yellow-orange stallion leaned back in the booth and crossed his forelegs. “Well, I say that, but it’s not totally off base. You understand, don’t you, Soarin?”

The pegasus draped a wing over his friend. “Yeah, I getcha. Now that he’s an adult, he wants to go do pegasus things, yeah?”

“Yeah.” A vein rose on Cheese’s forehead. “Except he isn’t an adult, and he’s barely even well-mannered enough to be left unsupervised. He usually isn’t! And yet, this is probably my fault in the first place, since he’s so much like me. I’m even his argument for it: I wandered around the country in my twenties for about four years until I finally ended up in Ponyville.”

“Oh, lemme guess,” Mac began, “‘Me bein’ out in Las Pegasus or Cloudsdale ain’t gonna be any different than y’all bein’ Goddess knows where when y’all were my age.’ Somethin’ like that?”

“That exactly! But without the accent.”

“Of course.”

“Anyways—” Cheese took a deep breath “—Pinkie is trying her best to convince him to go somewhere closer to home, and I think it would work if it weren’t for the fact that he runs deliveries for us and everypony in the area knows his name and face. He can’t get away with much unless he goes far out, which is why he does go far out, and exactly where he continues to get into trouble. Speaking of, I have a tip for you.” He nodded at Fin.

Fin frowned. “He’s gonna get caught screwing around with these gangbangers one day.”

“I know! I keep telling him that. and he just thinks it's funny because it hasn’t caught up to him yet. He’ll play a trick on the wrong guy one day and get himself hurt or worse, and he wants to go up to Las Pegasus to get a math degree. Pinkie and I both know it’s a blatant lie and he’ll either join or scam a casino or two before he gets caught, except in Las Pegasus, you’re not there to go clean up after him. I don’t know anybody in Las Pegasus, we don’t have family in Las Pegasus! It'd be one thing if we could at least monitor him somehow, but that’s the point of him going there in particular; we can’t!” He laid his forelegs on the table then put his chin on them. “The worst part is that there’s little either of us could do to stop him. He seems to pull money out of thin air, he’s an above-average flier, and he’s just smart enough to think he’s too smart for everybody else, the punk.”

The notorious Cotton Pie was a semi-known entity to everypony within the old elements of harmony circle. Never make a bet, never play a game, those are the rules. Cotton’s talent is quite literally sleight of hoof, and he’s as slippery as he is fast. Of course, he’s not the fastest or the slickest, and more often than not, he’s not as smart as he thinks he is, either.

Guilty of knowing this, Fin has sent Cotton to play with dangerous individuals before because, just like his parents, he’s very easy to talk to. They’ve all got the high energy and infectious smiley faces that attract people to them, except, unlike his parents, Cotton takes advantage of that. Too clever by half will end up on his tombstone one day, and if he didn’t talk to his parents about his exploits, one or two of his ‘pranks’ would’ve gotten him killed by now. Now that he’s eighteen, he’s about ready to take the first step in that direction on his own.

However, Whiskey had been around him long enough to know most of this. Cotton scamming a scammer was a common occurrence, and though scamming gangbangers was another level, it was just the next logical step. He was an adrenaline junkie with a superiority complex. What was surprising to Whiskey was the ‘he’s like me’ part.

“Did ya… did ya used ta play tricks on ponies, Mister Cheese?” Whiskey asked.

The green-eyed stallion sat up, then tilted his head at the young one. “Didn’t you know that? Oh, wait, you don’t know!” Perking up, Cheese reminisced: “This is a much better topic than my delinquent son. Whom… you don’t have regular contact with, right?”

“Nah, Ah only see him when he makes deliveries or if he’s with the twins doin’ Goddess knows what.”

Cheese’s lips straightened. “That… doesn’t happen to imply any more reasons for me to be disappointed in my son, does it?”

Fin eyed his son. “You don’t know something I don’t, do you?”

Whiskey did know something his father didn’t, but he was not to be the one to say anything about it, per Mom’s orders. Cotton, however, was not involved. “Ah’m sure Ah know lots’a stuff ya don’t, Pa, but that’s not what Ah meant. They’re all troublemakers. And, last Ah heard, they were all at the bakery together.”

Cheese shook his head. “Poor Pinkie. I’ll have to make it up to her later.” Then he let out a breath, letting his eyes sink. “I worry about that sometimes, though.” He patted Soarin’s wing on his shoulder. “I expect our lines to cross eventually with the way Prism and Cheesette are, but the older two… I suppose, if Maud can find somepony, anypony can, but I figure Croquette will move in with the grands and work the rock farm for the rest of her life to end up forty and alone like Limestone, and Cotton… hasn’t seriously shown interest in mares much over the years. They tend to hit thirteen or fourteen and split their focus a little as mares start to be more on their minds, but Cotton sticks to his schemes and his friends, and unlike the younger kids, his friends are all colts. I’m not sure what I would do if he goes off Las Pegasus and comes back with a stallion or something.”

You could tell who had suspicions and who didn’t by the way they all moved. Discord made a face like this was a foreign concept to him. Soarin patted Cheese’s shoulder since one of his sons was in a relationship, and the other was not exactly shy about trying to start one. Mac also looked like this was a foreign concept to him, but more like he realized that the possibility of something like this happening existed. Fin, however, was thinking. Possibly intuiting what Whiskey knew.

Luckily, just then, Loop-de flew up the stairs with a tray full of drinks. “Alright, gentlecolts, I’ve got your orders here.” He paused after seeing them, looking at the distant and confused faces of all the stallions gathered. “It, uh… seems like ya need ‘em.”

Cheese, would you play me a memory?

Cigars had been lit, beers had been drunk, the second round of drinks had come, and the stallions had regained their spirits. Difficult, painful topics could be left for another time. Instead, Cheese had reworked himself into a good mood. After taking a pull and puffing out a smoke ring in the shape of a rubber chicken, he set the cigar on the ashtray and leaned in.

“It was back when I was about twenty-one. All this technology you kids have just plain didn’t exist ,and I wanted to see Equestria. My father had been in the guard before marrying my mom and moving back to Applewood, and he’d encouraged me in everything I did. From learning accordion back when I was a child to getting into my joke songs, and even helping me find a way to use my talent after I got it. My parents were great, and though I didn’t have them, I wanted to spread my wings and see what I could make of myself.

“I’d never been far from home before, but I knew how to camp and how to feed myself. I made up a pack, put on my poncho and sombrero, and set out to cross the Palomino Desert. A smarter pony might’ve taken the train to get across that Goddess-forsaken land, but me? I wanted to see Appleloosa, the frontier town. Why in the world would somepony set up a town out here, and how in the world did they live in that dry heat? Stubborn ingenuity, that’s how. Pumping water from the ground, digging up copper to sell for fortunes, and more recently, even finding oil out there.

“I did a few performances, and they told me the strangest thing: somepony like me had been here before.”

Whiskey had cousins in Appleloosa, most notably, an uncle who is exactly what Cheese is worried about. He’d been there a few times, and it had changed a lot compared to what Cheese is describing now. It was more of a small city with rows and rows of cookie cutter houses these days. Lots of ponies powering mining, oil, and tech industries out there.

“How could there be anypony like y’all Mister Cheese?” Whiskey asked.

“That’s what I said!” he took another puff of the cigar, this time leaving an accordion in the air. “Still, I was avoiding the trains to travel on hoof to low-traffic places, so I headed north next. I travel from place to place, coming across little villages and settlements with vague directions from ponies who vaguely remembered coming across them. I took to making my own map, but what was so strange is that, anywhere I’d get the chance to perform, I always got comments about how I reminded them of this mare who’d been here before.”

“I finally bit the hook and decided to take a trip to Ponyville after the fourth encounter like this and meet this mare. I’d been all over, I’d met all kinds of ponies or otherwise, and not once had I ever encountered somepony like me. My parents passed before you were born, but even they weren’t all that much like me. Supportive and happy to join in on the things I came up with, but we weren’t exact. I had lots of friends but never anypony I felt would be there no matter when or where. Of course, this was all until I met her.”

Whiskey nodded. “Meanin’ yer wife.”

“Meaning my wife! She honestly rubbed me the wrong way when we first met. She was doing my thing. Nopony but me had ever been doing my thing, you know? She felt the same way and we sort of competed over it until something went wrong and I nearly got myself killed doing something crazy. She ended up being the better pony and called a truce. We started doing stuff together, which led to us doing stuff together after things had settled down and Princess Twilight began to modernize Equestria.

“Now, while this is all well and good, in some of the places I traveled to, people were not always so nice. Gambling and sleight of hoof tricks sometimes kept me fed while on the road and other times got me on the road to keep from being fed to something else. Play stupid games, get stupid prizes.”

Whiskey shook his head. “Very ‘Cotton’ of ya, Mister Cheese.”

“It was. But it was either that or go hungry. Not a lot of options. But where I did it out of necessity, he does it for fun, which is not okay.”

Soarin downed his third beer. He was the reason this place was called Tipsy Wings. “Cheese, Cheese, tell him about the dragon, Cheese.”

“The dragon?” Whiskey asked.

Cheese nodded. “The dragon. An infamous story of mine. Not my proudest moment. I know you’re Fin’s kid, so you know how to keep your mouth shut. Remember to do that.”

Taken a little aback by the harsh tone of the somewhat drunk stallion, Whiskey nodded. “Yessir.”

Smiling again, Cheese pulled hard on his cigar, turning the whole end red. He let out smoke from his mouth and nose like dragonflame. “Dragons are united and friendly now, of course, but that was not the case twenty years ago. You’d have them wander into mountains and caves, terrorizing the creatures that lived there, and if it happened to be ponies, Celestia or the Guard would deal with it. This was a lot farther north than Celestia or the guards would go, though, so I was on my own. I was running low on food and water, and since I’d been wandering without much in the way of a map, things were beginning to look bad.

“You might know that my family has a fairly high metabolism. In spite of all the sugar, it wasn’t until after the kids came that even Pinkie had to start watching her weight. This is, of course, a double-edged sword because we eat a lot. On a good day, I can pack it away with the best of them; eating contests were more like excuses to stuff myself for once.

“While I was wandering near the base of a mountain I didn’t recognize, fighting off hunger pangs, feeling the dryness of my throat, I smelled something. Someone was cooking nearby and whatever they were making had salt and butter in it, and I needed to find out what it was and hopefully take some with me. I tracked the smell to the opening of a large cave with an orange glow coming from inside. Smoke flowed softly from the ceiling and the smell had only intensified. I was salivating, those hunger pangs were stronger than ever, and in there was food.

“Nothing else on my mind beyond getting a piece of whatever it was, I went in and down and down and down. I didn’t notice at the time, but the walls of the cave were strangely smooth and very dark, almost black. Specks and hints of the real color of the rock outside told me something was off about all this, but I was too hungry to care. It’d been a day since I last ate, and I was on the verge of trying to eat a rock.

“After a few minutes trot down this weird smooth hole, the orange light had grown brighter and brighter until the cave opened up to a large space filled with shiny things. Bits, treasures, gold, gemstones, the whole shebang. Immediately, I knew I’d made a mistake. When I realized what that delicious smell was, I began to wonder if this mistake would be my last one. A big dragon, a greedy dragon with a horde to lay on, was roasting not bread, but a carcass over a fire he’d made. The hole I’d wandered in through couldn’t have been for him. With the way he’d breathe fire and scorch the ground while he worked his meal, that tunnel was like a vent he might sneeze into. And of course, being a bright, yellow-orange pony coming out of a black tube wearing a colorful poncho, he noticed me immediately.”

For all Whiskey knew, most dragons were not too much larger than ponies, and while carnivorous, not usually so toward the sentient creatures on the continent. The worst of the dragons had been banished to remote parts of the world, and even fewer were as big as the legends say. He’d once heard a story of Miss Fluttershy scaring one of the big ones off as a teenager, but never considered the details of that story.

“What was he eatin’? How did ya not die?” Whiskey asked.

Cheese rubbed his hooves. “You see, part of my abilities involves a bit of trickery. To make something appear out of nowhere as an earthpony takes a lot of work and careful misdirection.”

Whiskey frowned. “Ya stole somethin’ from the horde, huh?”

Cheese sighed. “Ya know, I was leading up to something there. Has anyone told you you act like your mother?”

Soarin leaned in woozily. “You at least gotta make it funny, otherwise you’ll end up just like your little sister. When Applejack is with Dash or Rarity, you can, like, feel the weight of the sarcasm. Sometimes, I was, like, ‘damn, that’s my wife, but you got her good,’ and I wish I could talk sense into her like that sometimes too, but we’d been together for years before she finally started taking my advice. Am I out of beer? Can somebody call Loop-de?”

Discord clapped his hooves and a glass of water appeared in front of him. “Drink this first. We’ll call Loop-de after you finish it.”

Soarin went to pick up the glass, missed once, and then was finally guided to it by Cheese. He downed it, set it back down, then turned back to Discord. “Beer now?”

The dark gray unicorn pointed at the cup. “It’s not gone, Soarin, look.”

It had refilled on its own somehow, but the confused, drunken Soarin simply picked it back up. “Huh. I thought I drank it…”

Whiskey turned to his father. “Does… does this happen a lot?”

“About once a month.”

Mac finished off his second stout. “He doesn’t hold it well. One or two over an hour or so and he’s like putty, but more than that and he starts forgettin’ things and gettin’ weepy. Drinkin’ is one of the things his wife won’t do with him because of it. We cut him off like this until he’s sobered up a little.”

“It was like this, however, that I managed to get out of that cave,” Cheese said. “Without the magic, of course.”

“Alright. How’d ya do it?” Whiskey asked.

Cheese smiled. “Discord, would you get me a beer?”

The dark stallion curled his lip. “It is not very nice to prank your friends like this, Cotton.”

“Come on, it’s for the bit! You love the bit.”

“I do love the bit.”

A frothy bubbly beer appeared in pink smoke in front of Cheese, who then picked it up and put it on top of one hoof. “You begin by showing the target the object of their desires. Pretend this cup is a very hastily tied together collection of coins and gemstones from the dragon’s horde.”

He turned to Soarin who was still trying to drink the bottomless water. “Hey, buddy, you’ve been doing great, here’s that beer you wanted. Can I have that?”

Eagerly, Soarin traded cups with Cheese, licking his lips over the new beverage. Cheese made a big show of going for a drink of the water before setting the cup down quickly. “Wait! Soarin, I forgot to tell you!”

Soarin paused, setting his cup back down to address his friend. “Huh? What?”

“I…” Cheese swallowed, his face going somber. “I found a condom in Cheesette’s room the other day.”

Soarin’s eyes went wide and his ears fell. “Oh, good Goddess, please don’t kill Prism.”

Like swapping masks, Cheese went from tragedy to comedy. “Oh, it’s alright, she got it from the sex ed course.”

Soarin relaxed, took hold of his mug, and drank it all. Except, it was the water again and not the beer. “Does this cup keep refilling itself? I swear I’ve drank this like four times now.”

It did not refill itself this time, and Cheese took the beer from under the table and set it in front of him. “Sorry about that. There’s your beer.”

Soarin happily went after it, and Cheese turned back to Whiskey. “So, did you see the trick?”

To be completely honest, he expected it, and still didn’t notice when Cheese switched the cups. He, like Soarin, had been just as shocked and horrified about the discovery, knowing full well Cheese might actually kill Prism in the event he ever caught him and his daughter screwing around. He’d never been too serious, but you could never be sure when something was a joke or not, and that’s what made Cheese, and by extension, Cotton, difficult to deal with.

“Ah did not.”

He took the empty water cup in one hoof, raised it just enough above the table that it didn’t make a sound, and very quickly swapped it with his martini glass. In spite of Whiskey's good hearing and the low noise level in the bar, he didn’t hear either glass touch the table. For that matter, Cheese’s barrel barely moved. He used his foreleg almost like it was detached.

“We’re social creatures, all of us. By our nature, we look at faces for cues and when something shocking is revealed, the first thing we do is check faces. You were looking at Soarin, Soarin was looking at me. So long as I didn’t show it, he wouldn’t notice what my foreleg was doing, thus, I can rearrange the table. And when you’ve practiced doing things quietly for decades, you get pretty decent at it.”

Whiskey huffed. “It’s like Ma this evenin’. She walks through the house like a specter.”

Mac shook his head, throwing the last of his cigar in the ash bowl. “She’s always been like that. Ya’d think with as heavy as she is, the creaky old house would let ya know when she’s around, but it just don’t and it never has. Even Granny couldn’t get away with bein’ as quiet as she is.”

Fin tossed his own stub in the bowl. “You’re telling me.” Then he turned to his son. “Did you see her go into the living room?”

“Ah did.”

Fin clicked his tongue. “Could’ve told me.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyways,” Cheese restarted, “the dragon and I played a little game with the stuff I’d grabbed and strung together from his horde so he didn’t recognize what it was. I had a deck of cards on me so that’s what we used, and we played for my life, the stolen treasure, and some actual bread he was making with whoever he’d roasted. I can’t honestly say I’m comfortable with the idea that I might’ve been salivating over the flesh of my own kind, and to this day, I don’t know if that was a pony or not that he had there. But, still, I won the game and offered the gold for the food just so I kept my life, and the minute he was distracted with the jewels, I made a break for it. Just as I’d managed to get outside, a column of flame shot out of the vent, blackening it further. He complained about being tricked and me being a thief, which, in fairness, I definitely was, and as those words were reverberating out into the open air, I ran the other direction with a full belly, food to spare, and without looking back.”

Cheese was pretty fast on his hooves, even for a 47-year-old. If he’d been in better shape in his twenties, he could’ve been a sprinter.

“Look,” Fin began, “I’ve seen some nasty shit in my life, and I can honestly say that enough perfume can make anything smell good. Besides, you have four kids. You’ve salivated over a pony before.”

Discord cackled, Soarin laughed and hiccuped, Mac chuckled, Whiskey groaned, and Cheese frowned.

“You make a good point,” the storyteller said. “Still, it bothers me. Some of the things I’ve done, some of the things I’ve thought. If I were born in this era, would I have just been Cotton?”

Discord sat up. “Well, the idea may be considered, but here in reality, the world has already formed. You must see time and possibility like ice being made as water is poured over it. What has frozen is solid and cannot be changed. What yet pours might still be diverted from its intended path. So you have concerns; conduct an experiment. Do a trial, set variables and let the water freeze for a bit. If you find the way the water has frozen to your dissatisfaction, change the way in which the water pours.

“The unfortunate truth is that it is not you who decides what the frozen ice looks like. Trust me, I’ve tried. As a once bad father myself, you may do some introspection and investigating. Understanding yourself is the first part of your research.”

Cheese rubbed at his forehead. “I know that.”

“But it’s the fear of findin’ out that’s stoppin’ ya,” Mac began. “Ya think you’ll hear the answer ya don’t want ta, so you’re better off not knowin’. Ox already told me he’s gonna go inta software or game development or whatever, and it’s hard enough ta get him ta leave his computer as it is. Ah knew about that fer years before Ah finally worked up the courage ta ask him a while back. It hurt about as much as Ah expected it ta, but at least Malus would take care of my farm after Ah pass. Ah doubt Ah’d have ever asked if Ah never found out about Malus. But that’s one of the things Ah’ve started tryin’ ta fix about myself lately. Fer the longest time, Ah tried not ta talk ta my son.”

Soarin, who was pleasantly resting his eyes with an empty beer mug in his lap, raised an ear. “Th-that’s kinda shitty, huh, Mac?”

“It is. He loves his video games so much and Ah’ve been a little better about it these past years, but Ah still don’t really understand it, and when he talks, he talks about that. He knows more crazy math than Ah could ever fit in my head, and he can make that computer do all these things and even build one out of parts and all that, and ta be honest, it just hurts my head ta look at sometimes. If Ah’d ever considered it, Ah’d say Ah might even share Cheese’s concerns about whether he’s straight or not, but he’d have ta take interest in other ponies at all first.”

Thinking back, the only times Whiskey ever saw Oxford was during family gatherings at the orchard and sometimes at holidays. Once a month at best. He saw Malus every day, but he and Malus were more like brothers than his actual brothers. Even Liberty, their sister, was at the orchard every now and again to earn some extra bits, help out, or hang out. There weren’t many Apples in the Ponyville metropolitan area who didn’t show up every few weeks, but Oxford was one of them.

“Is he not goin’ ta college or nothin’?” Whiskey asked.

Mac shook his orange mane. “Nah, he thinks it’s a waste of time. Ah agree with him, but not fer the same reasons. He’s got a job already, ya know.”

Cheese reared his head back. “What? For real? When did that happen?”

Mac shrugged. “Hell if Ah know. Thousands of bits just started showin’ up in his account a few months ago and Ah had ta ask him where it was comin’ from. Apparently, he works fer some company out in Applewood remotely. Manages their website from his room, does somethin’ fer ‘em most hours of the day. Couldn’t tell ya what, but he’s racked up a lot in a short time. Been thinkin’ about chargin’ him rent, but Ah’m not sure Ah want him movin’ out either since Ah don’t know if Ah’d ever see him again if he does.”

Slowly, Soarin sat up. “Yeah, sucks to be left behind, but at least he knows what he wants. Other than Cheesette, I’m not sure what Prism is gonna do with himself.”

Whiskey lowered his brows. “What? Not gonna be a Wonderbolt?”

The white pegasus leaned over the table, putting a hoof on his temple. “I mean, it would be one thing if he acted like he wanted to, but he’s such an amazing flier that he doesn’t even have to try half the time.”

Fin nodded. “So it’s not that the goal is challenging, but rather it’s not challenging enough?”

Soarin groaned. “I need more water…”

Discord passed him the other mug and it refilled itself. “Here.”

“Thanks, buddy.” He drank the same glass for the fifth time and pulled himself off the table a bit. “It’ll be challenging once he does finally get into the pro-level stuff, but that’s only because he’s, like, sixteen and inexperienced. Once he gets the experience and a few years under his belt, I don’t see anybody above or below right now who could compete against him. He’s gonna be the Wonderbolt in the event he can pass the exam, which, let’s be honest, is not super likely any time soon.”

Not only was Prism in school a little late compared to his peers, but his academic record was the butt of many a joke in their circle. Applejack liked to bring up the wonderful irony of Rainbow Dash, who also failed the Wonderbolts exam many times and never had great academics herself, being a physics teacher now, and her own son not passing her classes. Unlike Stout and Cider, Whiskey’s younger brother twins who simply wouldn’t do the work, Prism is just a slow learner.

Still, most ponies talked about Prism like he already was a Wonderbolt. Whiskey wasn’t close to many of the younger kids, but he figured that at least was set in stone. “So… he doesn’t want ta be a Bolt or… what exactly?”

Soarin rubbed at his temple. “Like, I don’t think that’s it. He has fun doing it, he enjoys the racing and the performing, he’s got that natural people pleaser talent, and the kid is charismatic. He just has no drive, no ambition.” He pushed himself off the table, trying to hold it so he stayed still. “Like, I wasn’t super talented. I worked a lot, and since my dad has something against the Bolts, I had to pay for everything myself. I did part-time jobs after school and I practiced after my part-time jobs, and I barely slept from age sixteen to eighteen. That test is friggin hard, too. It’s got college-level meteorology and physics stuff on it, and it’s not, like, theoretical stuff like modern math classes, that was shit you needed to know so you didn’t get caught up in a storm during a race or something.

“He’s more like Dash in that he’s got the raw talent to just be a Wonderbolt, but he doesn’t have the knowledge base to back it up and he doesn’t take to that stuff quickly. I mean, I would know, I teach his history class, Prism's reports are awful. He just doesn’t retain information that’s not related to his hobbies and he can intuit too well. I wanna help him, but I can’t make him want to be a Wonerbolt, ya know?”

Whiskey had never been a very driven pony himself. He didn’t live much of a difficult life, he was born as much of an Apple as anypony in his family could be, he was set to inherit Sweet Apple Acres, and he loved working the orchard. If anything, the management of it was almost like a hobby to him since there was so much to keep track of and so many little things that could always be improved. Even worse, when he had nothing to do he then went on and played city and farm management games with his friends and siblings, or even on his own. It was what he was born to do, it’s where his talents lay, and it’s what he loved. Everything sort of lined up for him in a way that no one else could really understand it. He was content with the future set out for him. It was less about earning things and more about maintaining them. In Prism’s case, however…

“What about his talent? The cutie mark, Ah mean.” Whiskey asked.

Soarin rested his cheek on his hoof. “Hell if I know.”

“What did we use to call it?” Discord reminisced. “The mark of destiny? Ponies used to think their fates were set in stone, you know, that mark effectively determined one’s worth. Is Prism’s mark so inconsequential?”

Soarin narrowed his eyes at the unicorn. “Come on, you know what I mean.”

Discord rolled his eyes. “Of course I do, this is for our guest, Soarin.”

He slapped his forehead. “Right.” Turning back to Whiskey, he set his hooves on the table. “You’ve seen it, right? It’s a watch tower made of rainbow blocks, like a rook.”

“Ah’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, so, like, he’s got an art talent. Those damned expensive model kits of his have cost us a fortune over the years, but he’s, like, a painter or something. It’s actually impressive. He uses brushes and spray guns and cans, he can work a chisel, he’s good with glue and sand paper, and he’s a nut for architecture, but, like, he’s bad at math, and it’s his best subject. Maybe there’d be a way to make it work somehow, but architecture is a hard business to get into and it’s not like he’d want to be a normal architect, he loves all the cool artsy stuff that only the 1% can afford. He would have to be very famous with years of experience to actually do the kind of stuff he’d want to with his talent outside of his models. I mean, maybe he could even paint and sell models of things and the like, but he wants to get married and have kids the minute Cheese okays it—”

“And it won’t be okay until she’s eighteen and graduated from high school.” Cheese affirmed.

“—so he needs to be able to pay for a family. A couple years in the Bolts with the kind of money a star like him would make and he’ll be set for life. And it’s not like I’ve never told him this or anything, but I just don’t think he understands it. It’s easy, it’s fun, he just flies at the highest level because he was born that way, and it’s not even his special talent. The day he gets into the Wonderbolts, provided nothing changes, he’s gonna meet ponies for the first time who already hate his guts, and it’s just gonna get worse from there. Honestly, it was a lot easier to worry about Haze a few years back than this impending shitstorm Prism is gonna have to navigate.”

Whiskey’s eyes fell into the nearly empty orange juice in front of him. “Damn. That… that sucks, Mister Soarin.”

“Yeah.” Soarin sighed, went to pick up his beer, but realized the mug was empty. “I need another one of these.”

Discord clapped his hooves and the beer refilled itself. “Ask and you shall receive.”

“Thanks.”

Better than drinking alone

With a lull in the conversation, Whiskey took the time to visit the bathroom and investigate if he saw ‘anybody he knew’. A hoofful of stallions and a mare at one table, the inverse at another, a more mixed group, another all male group, and a table of non-pony creatures. With nopony immediately standing out, he found the restroom and made his way to the urinal. As he was finishing his business and moving to the sink to wash his hooves, somepony he knew walked in. The very same guy on the poster from the hallway, a light gray earth pony stallion with a long dark brown mane and tail, the lead singer of Food Fighters, Drum Roll. They made eye contact for a second, Drum Roll nodded, and the interaction passed. In an effort to not make a fool of himself, Whiskey shoved his hooves under the water in the sink and went after the soap, quietly. A lot wanted to spill out of him, and since he’d already done that, he kept to his father’s warning and didn’t say a word.

That is, of course, until Drum Roll asked him a question. “Hey, you’re at the table with that dark unicorn guy, right?”

“Y-yes!” He knew a whole lot more about Drum Roll than Drum Roll knew about him and it was gonna be weird if he brought any of it up. “What about him?”

“Is he, like, famous or something? I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

The Drum Roll is asking him about Discord? And not even the recognizable version of the stallion, but a form Whiskey had never even seen himself? So he was right earlier, but who is he, exactly? Still, this was one of those times a white lie could go a long way.

“Ah don’t think so. Uncle… Havoc is just a stay-at-home dad as far as Ah know.”

The stallion went to put a hoof on his beard, but then stopped right before doing it. “Gross.” He joined Whiskey at the sink and washed his hooves. “Guess I’m mistaken. Thanks, kid.”

Once he was done, Drum Roll left and Whiskey was starstruck. What… do Ah even make of that interaction? I met him, he’s the Drum Roll and… what? He seemed like just a guy. Ponies are just ponies, Ah guess.

By the time he returned to his table, making note of the one Drum Roll was sitting at before taking his seat again, he stared directly at Discord’s face trying to figure out just who he was thinking of. He said his son was ‘Sombra’ but does he really mean the historical figure? It had never really clicked for him how old Discord and the Princesses really were, but now the curiosity had gotten to him. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Alright, Mister Discord, ya gotta tell me. Who are ya?”

“Oh, is it my turn?” The dark unicorn stroked his beard. “Well, there was once a city built here that I paid for in another life. I’d even started on a castle before… other possibilities became known to me. Could you guess?”

Whiskey blinked. “Paid fer? What are ya, old unicorn aristocracy?”

He smiled.

The unicorn aristocracy of old Unicornia, a state that fell to pieces on the other side of the world which eventually escaped and resettled in Equestria, existed over two thousand years ago. Of what little is recorded about them, it was common knowledge that they viewed other races as inferior and were known for holding slaves. Even ponies born into families that were the wrong race were considered worthless. The kingdom was eventually consumed by infighting and then infested with wendigos before being frozen over completely.

“Huh,” was all Whiskey could think to say.

“Yes, well, I have quite the storied history, and we certainly don’t have the time tonight to go over all of it. Since this seems to be the theme this evening, I’ll talk about my eldest son instead.”

There was Amity, a female half-breed who was a year younger than Whiskey; Fallacy, a more pony-like male half-breed who also had Discord’s powers and was the same age as Prism; and then Magnanimity, who was almost more like a winged ferret than a pony with how long and bendy she was, the youngest of the three. As far as Whiskey knew, they didn’t have any other siblings.

“Who is that?”

The bearded unicorn smiled fondly, darkly. “We’ll call him ‘Shadow’ for the sake of the other patrons here.”

“Okay.”

“Now, with what you know of my… people back when I originally had this form, Shadow’s mother was not treated very well, either by me or anyone else. Appearances had to be kept and I had a reputation. In a society in which certain cruelties are seen as normal, it is difficult to realize cruelty is even being practiced. Not to say that I wasn’t a cruel stallion back then. I was not a young stallion when Shadow was born, but he was my only heir. By a stroke of luck and perhaps with a theory behind him, Shadow had been born ‘right.’”

His regular fingers and claws broke out of his hooves to bend for air quotes. They disappeared just as fast. “I was no better than my peers, but Shadow’s mother had been good to me, so I’d intended to take care of him until I realized just what he was. The boy was talented in a way I had never seen before, magically capable unlike any before or since. Well, I say that, Twilight was on track before she cursed herself like the rest of us, but that’s a different story.

“Less than a son, I saw Shadow more as a tool to be wielded. Society was breaking, the kingdom was falling apart, and every year, it got just a little bit colder. A frozen wasteland stands where Unicornia once was, and I wanted to rebuild it in a more efficient way. It was difficult to keep rebellious ponies in line, but over time, I realized that by giving them something to work for, they would serve you voluntarily.”

“Ya paid ‘em?”

Discord nodded. “It was a novel concept back then. Affording them any freedoms was more than expected, but it created a more efficient working environment. Crops could be harvested without enforcement, buildings were built in a timely manner, forests were cleared, tools were smithed. The easier I was on them, the better they would perform.”

A shiver ran up Whiskey’s spine. “Ya talk like ya invented corporate structure.”

The unicorn clasped his hooves. “Yes, there were many sins, and that one is likely my most insidious. Now, as the heir to a very old, very wealthy family, I ‘bought’ land that I’d intended to create a city on using this ‘new’ idea. At the time, Equestria didn’t exist and this continent had been recently added to maps of the world, so land here was more about settling than purchasing. As I was collecting ponies to prepare for the new settlement, I encountered Shadow’s mother and my plans deteriorated. At first, it was just her pulling on emotions I’d effectively grown up without, and then it was what to do with the boy. My own parents were mostly uninvolved in my upbringing, and they’d died in their forties. I was a stallion who hardly considered his parents, let alone knew how to be one. So, I didn’t. Like me, he was raised by servants, but thanks to his mother being one, he was also somewhat of a servant himself.

“He was also uniquely suited to magic that was… frowned upon back in the upper circles of Unicornia. Magic I had made my life’s work. This kind of magic is, of course, forbidden these days, but your princesses and I are the only ones who know why that’s a good thing. I didn’t know what it could do at the time, so I used Shadow to figure it out.

“A certain spell allowed me to inhabit a… life-like puppet from the comfort of my own home, and I used it to make the dangerous journey across the great sea to the new world with Shadow and a boat full of my own… personnel and a fool I’d paid to settle there. Over the course of about four months, I took the role of teacher and taught Shadow everything I could. He excelled at it, far beyond my expectations.

“However, he’d developed a relationship with a pair of sisters, a pegasus and an earth pony. He’d grown bold and tried to play a game he didn’t understand with the fool. He’d gone so far as to embarrass the fool, and then the fool did something foolish. He’d earned Shadow's ire, and the boy was, like I said, very powerful.”

Whiskey swallowed. “Wh-what’d he do?”

Discord licked his lips. “The ship he’d taken, the one I’d paid for and loaded with people to fill my new city, was found empty. It had docked and anchored, the sails had been drawn, it was as if it had been crewed the day before it arrived, and depopulated the next. The fool was found dead, horn chopped off and the rest of him dismembered. His was the only body aboard.”

“Yuck.” Of course, Whiskey had seen pictures of something like that since he would help his father with work sometimes. Fin had seen the real deal in person.

“Yes, well, he would go on to do arguably worse things later in life and yet still following my guidance. The ship was merely the first massacre.”

The things he was hearing and the ‘uncle Discord’ he knew just didn’t line up. “Ah honestly find this hard ta believe.”

He motioned to himself. “I was, quite literally, a different pony back then! It was another world, comparatively, and I had been punished not once, but twice for my misdeeds. These days, I simply want to watch the world turn and see what happens next. When my beloved Fluttershy and all the friends I’ve made in this era die, I will surely have been punished yet again. Count your blessings, boy, you were born in an era kind to your station. My little Shadow did not have such a luxury.”

Soarin laughed. “Talk about first world problems.”

Discord detached his foreleg and put it around Soarin’s shoulders. “Ah, my dear drunken pegasus friend, you are incorrigible. In a world filled with such joys as these, what reason is there to despair?”

He’d been quiet most of the night, but Fin drank the last of his own beer and rested his chin on his hoof. “The suffering of others is one that I think about a lot.”

Discord scoffed. “How noble of you.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Cheese nudged Discord.

“I suppose I shouldn’t.” He raised a brow at Fin. “Is this about that thing you want me to solve for you?”

Whiskey’s father tended to keep a lot to himself. His mother was the same way for that matter, but it was always something nasty when he’d refrain. Ponyville had seen a surge in crime with the surge in population over the years, and it hadn’t exactly slowed down its growth just yet. Projections estimate that by the end of the mid 30s, the city will hold around 16 million people from all walks of life. Larger districts are beginning to form more specific rules and coalitions with nearby districts as general law within the city needs to be more and more specific to the residents of each area.

Fin sighed. “Mostly. I mean, I’d be perfectly happy to talk about my eldest son too, but since he’s sitting next to me, I feel like that would be in bad taste.” He turned a sarcastic eye at Whiskey. “You’re old enough to talk about yourself.” Leaning back and taking hold of his own water glass, he swirled it around for a moment, sipped, then set it back down. “Since we drifted to the topic of slavery and all that, it’s made me think about work, so I’m gonna ask you guys some stuff.”

Mac frowned. “Slavery? In this day and age?”

The green stallion shrugged. “It’s harder to enforce, but not impossible to accomplish. We usually call it ‘trafficking,’ though.”

Soarin picked himself off the table. “Is this gonna be icky? I’m not super into ‘icky.’”

He glared at the pegasus. “You sound like your wife.”

“It’s tragic, I know.” Soarin rubbed at his temple. “Alright, take your turn, Fin.”

“Well, speaking of tragedy, there was a girl who disappeared in District 48 not too long ago. She was reported missing when she didn’t come home from school on Monday and we’re still looking for her. We have a little bit to go off of, but this isn’t uncommon in that area, and even if we do manage to rescue her, it’d be a miracle if she ever recovers from what happened.”

The smiley Cheese had gritted his teeth. “You expect that she’s been abused, huh?”

“A nameless fourteen-year-old abducted from a lower-end district? I’d be more amazed if she wasn’t. It’s not as if we got a ransom note or anything. The problem, the real problem, is that the community in 48 is well intertwined.”

Whiskey lowered his brows. “Nopony’s sayin’ anything?”

“Nope. We’re in this district a lot since it’s one of the highest crime areas in ponyville. The residents don’t want the gang, but they can’t get rid of them, and if they talk, the gang finds out. I say gang since that’s what we’re normally up against, but this series of kidnappings has been too organized. The girls, and boys sometimes, disappear never to be seen again, and when we do recover the few we find, they’ve been left to rot in other parts of the country and violated beyond repair.

“A more recent example would be a young mare who disappeared two years ago. Seventeen, ready to graduate soon, gets a call from somebody about a dream job right out of high school. She doesn’t want to jinx her chances, so she doesn’t tell anybody where she’s going or what she’s doing, and she isn’t heard from again.”

Discord lowered his chin. “What is it you want me to do, exactly? While there isn’t much I cannot do, things cannot be undone, Fin.”

The detective shook his head. “I’m not asking you for anything out of the ordinary, just a rescue. It’s not as if we haven’t done the work to approximate where she is. Honestly, I think we could go in and get her, but that would disrupt what little balance we’ve managed to achieve, and worse, I doubt everypony would come out unscathed or even alive. As terrible as it is for me of all people to say, it’s just not worth the risk.

“That mare we found? She was in a crack house in an Applewood suburb. Drugged out of her mind, kept perpetually high for years, and sold around for ‘recreational use’. They’d finally gotten enough force to go in there and smash the operation, and she was not the only missing girl they found, but at least one of the living ones. Some of those kids were so far off the planet that they didn’t even realize they were sleeping next to bodies. Treatment and magic might’ve been able to heal some of her wounds, but nothing could fix the mental scars. When she was finally cognizant enough to see her family again, she couldn’t remember most of the time she was gone. Just vague flashes of things that had been done to her.” He let out a breath. “Without giving too many details, sometimes I wonder if she’d be better off if she’d died.”

A hollow silence fell over the table. While Whiskey would sometimes be asked to help solve a puzzle, he was never included in discussions of Fin’s feelings about work. Being on the internet for years and wandering onto sites that had awful videos of horrible things being done to people made him aware of what could happen out there, but it always seemed so far removed. Malus lives in District 47 with his mother, just a mile away from where this kidnapping took place.

“Pa… does… is this what ya usually deal with?”

Fin eyed his son for a moment, then let his gaze fall on the empty caramel apple glass. “The work of a detective is wide and varied. The job of a soldier is about the use of force. To go from the latter to the former, you have to think differently about things. I’ve had my own bad experiences in life, but I was trained to deal with them. I signed up for it, albeit under your grandad’s orders. There’s only so much I can do for the kids who get caught up in the games people play and that…” he flexed his foreleg. “That is what burns me inside. I don’t like to cheat the game any more than Discord does, but these cases are the ones I’m willing to break rules for.” He leaned back, turning his full attention to Whiskey. “What would you do if that mare had been Gin or Craft?”

If it’d been right at home instead of so far from it. And that was a good question. What would he do? His father is the head detective on the force. One of his mother’s best friends is the princess of the city. Discord is sitting right across from him. If it had been either of his little sisters, they wouldn’t be gone for long, and heaven and earth would be turned upside down before too long had passed. Whiskey likely wouldn’t have to do anything. “Ah… probably go find the princess or Discord, but… Ah think y’all’d probably be on it before Ah even knew about it. Can’t imagine they’d be gone for long.”

“You should…” Discord began, “keep in mind what I said about being blessed. You are well-connected, you were born into a family with very powerful allies. In effect, these things cannot happen to you or your loved ones. You’re a noble prince of old Unicornia. You’re above the afflictions of the lower ponies.”

“To add to that,” Fin added, “imagine if you weren't. If you didn’t have me, Discord, the princesses. If you were just a father out in one of these outer districts trying to make it with what you had, maybe even ignoring your own talent just to feed your family. You’re not the hero in an action movie, you’re not the star of someone else’s story, you’re just a guy like anybody else. And your daughter simply doesn’t come home one day. What next?”

“Ah…” Whiskey struggled for the words. “Ah… Ah’d go ta the authorities first.”

“The cops are dirty. The guys in your area are bought, and rescuing your daughter is a conflict of interest. Powerful people want this kept under wraps, and a nobody like you isn’t going to make any waves.”

“Pa is that really somethin’ y’all should be sayin’?”

Fin put a hoof under his chin. “Do you really think every cop in a city with ten million people is clean?”

And with the answer to that obviously no, what would he do? Would he, of his own power, be able to do anything? All things considered, he was a very big stallion and could likely force his way so far, but with weapons or magic involved, he was just an earth pony. If he had no one to turn to… could he do anything?

“Well, Ah’d do everythin’ within my power but it doesn’t seem like Ah’d have a lot of that. Ah’d either end up a murderer, dead, or both.”

Fin nodded slowly. “I see. You’d do it yourself, take a little vigilante justice in your own hooves, huh?”

Strange as it was, that is exactly where his head went. Normally, Whiskey solved his own problems. With five siblings, he ended up acting as third parent for most of his life, and there was little he wouldn’t do for his family or the farm, going so far as to keep secrets from his parents which was no small task. And still, if it was his family, and no one would help him, he’d do it himself, no matter what it took. “Yessir.”

“Well, in the more recent kidnapping, you were killed trying to get her back. You went to the cops but happened to catch the wrong guys on duty. You went up higher, but up higher was warned to not let you get to me. By the time I found out about you, you’d already gone off guns blazing, only to end up killing one of my plants, a few other members, and leaving this earth without your daughter. Your wife has been left alone and shattered, the little life you had is falling apart around her because of the mess you made, and the ponies who could’ve helped you have been put in a difficult position because of your actions. The chances of her being rescued are effectively zero now, and without the intervention of a higher power, she’s lost.”

“Oh.”

Fin clasped his hooves together on the table. “There are things you can’t do. Not everybody is an action hero. We can relocate the mother and daughter after we get her out, but her father is gone because of all this. And when you consider the position he’d been put into, can you really blame him? He’d lost the most important thing in his life and there was almost no hope of getting it back. The only hope he had, he jumped on, and lost everything for it. The tragedy of it all is my reason for despair. It would be one thing if it was a one-time event that happened once in a blue moon, but this is my every day.”

Whiskey swallowed. “Couldn’t ya—”

“There are seven billion people on the planet, Whiskey. We can’t save the world. We can’t even handle the crime just in this city. And without becoming the villains and enforcing control over everybody’s lives ourselves, which realistically, the normal people among us could not do, there is nothing we really can do.”

Discord rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat. “And what, you’d give up on the hopelessness of it all?”

“No.” Fin set his hooves down. “But I could empathize with somebody who did.”

He scoffed. “A baldfaced lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Cheese cupped his chin. “Well, I can’t say it’s a mean lie, if it really is one. Things go wrong in life, and if Pinkie hadn’t been there when I found out about my parents, I don’t know that I would’ve made it.”

“About yer parents, Mister Cheese?” Whiskey asked.

He hunched over, covering his mouth. “Well, like I said, they died before you were born. Except, unlike what Fin’s been talking about and the kind of thing he has to deal with here, they weren’t killed by a person or something. It was just a freak accident, just a vent that’d been left closed in the old house. It was built to retain heat, and this was in early April. They didn’t have the windows open and carbon monoxide doesn’t have a smell or a taste or any way to detect it without magic, or more recently, electronics. Old but perfectly healthy, they’d… probably been talking about something, not even realizing anything was wrong when they effectively suffocated to death.” He swallowed, letting his eyes go off into the distant past. “We were going to tell them the wedding plans when we found them. We got dizzy just trying to go in after opening the door. The house had to be fumigated before we could have their bodies retrieved. It was… it was a mess. The worst day of my life. And If I’d been in there with them, I wouldn’t be here today.”

“And there’s Haze, too, ya know,” Soarin added. “Bad people make bad decisions, good people make bad decisions, and mistakes can get people killed. Things just… go wrong sometimes.”

This was in reference to the time that, in spite of everyone’s warnings, Rainbow Dash refused to move to the ground after Haze was born, only to cause an accident that ended up knocking out power completely in Cloudsdale for several days about fourteen years ago. This resulted in the deaths of two in-surgery patients and was effectively covered up by the princess.

Mac nodded. “Ah don’t really think Ah need ta add much ta the subject since ya ought ta know what Ah’ve been through, though Ah might not’ve been far from where yer mother was when she found out about y’all if Ah’d known about Malus. Wasn’t in a good place. It’s pretty easy ta look and see a bleak future.”

Of all the things Whiskey imagined he might hear about on the day he finally got to join ‘guy‘s night,’ death and despair were not the first topics that came to mind. It had to be because of who these particular stallions were, right? All stallions don’t drink and smoke and get sad like this, do they? “Well, what do ya do ta… ta not get so down on everythin’? If… if it really is all that bad…”

All the stallions at the table smirked, creaked and chuckled.

“You find love,” Cheese said.

“Ya get married,” Mac said.

“You give chase until you catch the Rainbow,” Soarin said.

“You relish in the chaos without upsetting order too badly,” Discord said.

“You turn a mistake into a miracle,” Fin said, patting Whiskey on the shoulder.

Discord leaned over the table and put a hoof under his chin. “It is like I said. With joys such as these, for what reason is there to despair? The theories I had believed in as the evil sorcerer in every fairy tale turned out to be only half true. All things are coins, double-sided. When life has become stale and miserable, it’s simply because you haven’t flipped the coin over in a while. One must have the will to find it, which comes down to one’s character, but one may find themselves motivated, positively or negatively, by anything they can think of. Be it a tragedy or the flowers at your feet, there is life to be found everywhere. Being able to turn your perspective is what will bring you joy, and joy is the stuff of life.”

“Amen,” Cheese said. He raised his glass, and the rest of the stallions followed.

Discord refilled them all, and then Fin spoke up. “And when life does get you down, sometimes, all you need to find that joy again is to have a drink between friends.”

“Cheers!”