I never did get used to the cold.

Shivering briskly, I pulled closed the worn black peacoat that I found in a dumpster, buttoning it over the kevlar plates of my security barding.

The black fabric and the cuffs around my fetlocks were worn and frayed from use. I was impartial to … looting. I wondered if that was the right word. Or was it scavenging? Whatever it was, there was a bullet hole through the fabric over my heart.

Whoever that peacoat belonged to last wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

With my back against a wall, I looked across the flea market, ponies trotting from stall to stall, canned food, and other goods clanking inside their bags or held in their mouths. Shivering, I brought to my mouth an apple that Dapple Gray had packed for me, and took a chunk out of it, letting the juices calm my frayed nerves. I had been awfully restless since my meeting with Sterling at the World Tree.

I shook my head, telling myself that I shouldn’t have had my expectations so high. I should’ve learned my lesson the moment I stepped out into the wasteland – no, when I first stepped out that door. I expected too much of the wasteland. I had been wrong about everything so far.

Everything.

I realized that if I had my pistol on me, I would have pulled it on that pony.

But how stupid would that have been?

Fucking stupid. But I tended to be full of stupid whenever I got desperate, or whenever I put my mind to something. I remembered Gail, and how I galloped through a hail of bullets just to save her feathered ass. I was desperate to save the one person I could have called a friend. And at that moment, desperation was as overwhelming of a feeling as the chilling bite of the frozen wind.

In desperation, I had taken risks. My friends and I, even the overmare took risks coming out there in search of a talisman. They were desperate. So was I. But where did those risks take me? Back to square one with a few brushes with death. Saving Gail from those furies was a risk … but I kept asking myself: was she worth risking my life for?

No. Not those monsters.

But I wondered: were those six thousand Ponevans - the six thousand that Sterling was trying so hard to save - worth risking my life for? As I walked those icy streets among those damned ponies, I got my answer.

Little. By. Little.

For the last two and a half days, I had spent most of my time searching for the Orphanage and the Fallen Angels. I didn’t have much luck.

‘Please don’t say that out loud. Palominos might hear you ...’

‘Are you trying to get us killed?’

‘How do you wanna leave? Door, or window?’

Those ponies couldn’t tell an apple from an orange, because apparently to them, ‘door’ meant ‘window’, and ‘Orphanage’ meant ‘death-sentence’. And I couldn’t find the resistance unless someone at least kicked me in the right direction.

Just not out of a window.

But nobody wanted to help. Nobody. Not one person wanted to talk about the resistance. The resistance that was apparently trying to save their sorry asses. They were afraid of the Palomino thought police kicking down their doors for saying the ‘O’ word. The name of the beast – the plantations’ and their lackeys’ – the Palominos’ worst arch enemy: the Orphanage.

So there I was, watching ponies walk by with my back pressed against a cold concrete wall, munching on an apple. I figured that eavesdropping – or rather, observing people from a safe distance was better than asking them in person.

It’s not like anybody noticed me anyways. Hunched in the corner there I looked like any other wasteland hobo. All I was missing were the bugs crawling under my skin and the crack baby I never had.

Most people were too busy not giving damn about anybody but themselves to see the disheveled wreck eyeballing them from the corner.

“Five caps,” said a pony, clopping her hoof against a stall counter.

The mare behind the counter swept the cans of cram away. “I said ten! This ain’t a damn charity, lady!”

“Come on! Seven caps, then? My foal’s gotta eat!”

She groaned. “And I gotta make money, okay? Eight caps, or no crammy cram at all.”

“Damnit. Fine, here.” The sound of caps jingling and cans tumbling into a bag made me sigh.

She was right. It wasn't a charity. There wasn’t a single damned charity in that city, because nobody was willing to give any of their shits. My ears twitched in another direction, and I found myself unable to give a shit, either.

“H-h-hey brony, h-hook me up, ‘k-kay?” I watched a frail, maneless pony barter for his goodies.

A pony in a trench coat leaned in towards the chemhead as he trembled uncontrollably, scratching at his mangy coat like a flea-ridden animal.

“Geeze, that’s the fourth time this week. You can’t get enough of this shit, can you?”

“GOD – FUCK – SHIT!” he screamed, slamming a hoof into the snow. “D-don’t tell me h-how to live my f-f-fuckin’ life!” He got up in the pony’s face. “I-I-I-I need my FUCKING DASH!”

The other rolled his eyes, shrugged, and opened up his coat, levitating out a syringe.

“Sure, just keep the caps coming – and try not to kill yourself. Gonna need more of those.”

My ears drooped as I shook my head and sighed out a jet of mist. I took another bite out of my apple, chewed, and swallowed.

Those were the people Sterling wanted to save.

So far that day, I’d seen a lot of stupid shit. The highlights of that particular Tuesday included: a drunken bum fight between at least a dozen crossfaded hobos, a mugging that involved a pregnant mare and her groceries, a godlike pickpocketing spree at the marketplace (which was actually pretty cool) – oh – and I even walked in on some stallion giving somebody head in a not so private alley.

A dark chuckle seethed out of my lips. 'Welcome to Poneva city,' I thought.

Those were the people Sterling wanted to save.

I believed that there was a reason why they hadn’t progressed beyond anything but a megaspell-blasted Stone Age: because they simply didn't give a shit.

I slid down the wall to my haunches, sighing. I wondered, 'What if these people didn’t even want to be saved? What if they weren’t even worth saving?'

So I sat there, the unnerving Ponevan ambience raking against my frayed nerves, wondering if it was a waste of my time. Wondering if I was going to end up empty-hoofed once more.

But it was the only chance I had left. Sterling expected me to believe that saving those scumbags was the right thing. Then he lied to me about my stable. It wasn’t a about whether or not he could be trusted. It was about the tiny little sliver of hope that still remained for me.

The tiny little sliver of hope for my stable.

I would’ve believed anything he said at that point – because it was all I had left to believe in.

But what did that make me? A sheep?

No. It made me a very, very, very, desperate sheep.

A sheep that just wanted to go home.

Scanning the market languidly once more, I spied a pair of ponies in winter coats not too far from where I was sitting. They looked to be arguing as one of them, a mare in a peacoat stood there quietly while the other shouted at her. The mare shook her head, taking off her fedora to scratch at her mane in frustration as he kept mouthing off.

Then she snapped. The mare shoved the stallion to the snow in a shower of powder. He slowly rose to his hooves as the mare continued to berate him – all the while I was trying to hear what she was saying.

I couldn't.

That fucking chemhead to my right kept blabbering about how good dash felt when he stuffed it down his asshole.

“KEEYEAAARGH! Just a pump to the rump, as I like to say. F-f-flooows better that way, - hehe - i-i-if ya know what I'm sayin’ …”

“Nah. All I do is sell this shit,” said the dealer. He snorted, giving the ragged chemhead who scratched at his coat incessantly a grinning look over. “Not even once.”

I growled, frustrated, my ears twitching as I tried to hone in on what that mare with the fedora was screaming about.

Then another mare’s voice pierced the night.

“DARKNESS!”

'What the hell –' I cringed, pinning my ears.

I fumbled with my apple as the mare, her voice keen and serrated like broken glass wracked my vulnerable ear drums. She screamed hysterically into the night, “I have seen the face of the abyss and it comes to swallow us all in DARKNESS!”

I swung my head to face a gathering herd of ponies at the center of the flea market. I sighed in exasperation.

'This better be good,' I thought.

The mare’s keening shrieks pierced the night once more. “The darkness hungers for your souls! It will consume you from within and without!” She reared upon her hinds and bellowed, “It comes! It comes, and you are all doomed to drown beneath the COMING DARKNESS!”

I stuffed the half-eaten apple into my bags and trotted over, pushing past the crowd to get a glimpse of the ragged, dark-eyed pony that stood upon a tattered podium of crates and rubbish.

“Oh, not this shit again,” somebody whined, shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” I asked no one in particular.

One pony stood up on her hinds and lobbed a dirty snowball at the mare. "Shut up, you crazy bitch!”

The crazed mare shook the dirty snow from her face, unfazed. “FOOLS! Can’t you feel it?” She reached out and smacked a pony upside her face.

“Can’t you see it!?” she cackled, swinging her hooves around her and up into the ashen sky. The mare gazed into the crowd and for the briefest of seconds, her eyes stared into mine … and through them. Then she smiled at me, as if she’d seen me before, as if she knew something I did not.

A glacial chill skittered down my spine.

“Yes … can’t you see the black paint trickling down the walls all around you?” She was still looking at me. “It is already here … just outside … waiting for you to let it in. And soon, it will come. It will come and the darkness will know you!”

In my peripherals, I noticed a pair of hazy teal orbs watching us from the darkness. No. Not watching us. Watching the mare. I had seen those eyes before. The forest outside Spring Song’s cottage.

My focus shifted when a pony next to me snorted, shaking his head. “Che palle ... this is a fucking joke.”

“Forget about it! I’ve seen that pony around town, scaring everypony with her ghost stories.”

To my left, some mare squeaked, "I don't know, I've been through the inner city lately, and somethin's been riling up all the freaks out there." She glanced at everybody around her and shivered. "Even the blast shadows ..."

I looked at her, confused. I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Yeah, I barely made it back here alive on my last prospecting job,” said a mare in mangled barding. “Something’s making them tick; it’s never been this bad.” The vicious tears across the fabric of her coat and the limp on her left hind leg made me wonder …

To my right, "Them mutants and furies've always been riled up! Hell, just us bein’ here riles’em up. Nuthin's changed!"

The mangled mare glared at him. “Have you been outside the city lately?”

The doomsayer wore a disturbing grin across her face, unsurprised as the mob argued among themselves. I could tell that that bickering was what she was expecting.

“Don’t you mooks know?” some stallion scoffed. “The world ended two hundred years ago!”

The crazed mare just cackled hysterically, as if their words were simply the shallowest, most hilarious things she had ever heard.

“This world won’t end again. Only reborn in DARKNESS!" She jabbed a hoof at the crowd, swinging it to and fro. "You larcenists – hedonists – adulterers – you will be paid in the wickedness you have wrought! This entire city will!"

Hooves wrapped around her from behind, trying to pull her off her podium.

“That’s enough out of you …” a mare growled.

“Get your filthy hooves off me!” She bucked her off the soapbox, standing upon her hinds. The crazed mare cried out into the night, “This city, and all the cities after it will be the first example – suffering the vengeance of ETERNAL DARKNESS!

“DARKNESS IS COMING, YOU FOOLS! Soon you shall bear witness to the darkness inside your hearts - MADE MANIFEST!”

The mare wrapped her hooves around the Doomsayer's throat. "Shut your piehole! You’re scaring ponies away, see? You don't wanna bring the cafones here to calm things down, do ya?"

That choked their jeers away. Everyone fell silent.

Not too far from the crowd, at the other end of the market, black clad figures in fedoras were watching us from the distance.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that some of the unamused stall owners had their legs folded across their chests. Others tapped their hooves impatiently against their stall counters, irritated.

On one of the larger stalls, more like a giant mobile store, I saw the words 'Sunny Days Company' stenciled onto a flapping plastic banner. The yellow, smiley-faced sun that was their logo didn’t quite agree with the ponies that stood behind the counter. One of the vendors was speaking with a black-hatted gangster. His fedora tipped up and the pony underneath stared right at us, annoyed.

The vendors weren’t making money. They didn’t like that. Not one bit.

A pony in a gray wintercoat pushed past the mob and stood before us. The crowd took a step back. He was the stallion I was eavesdropping on earlier. The one who got his ass kicked by that Palomino.

"Hey you clowns – beat it! All o'ya, scram!" he shouted.

The pony glanced at the gangsters assembled near the Sunny Days stall. “The mob ain’t got time for chit-chat. So beat it, before you bring them over here and they shut you all up, ya dig?"

An air of panic swept through the crowd. Heads turned to him - then to the Palominos who were staring them down from across the empty, empty stalls. “Forget about it … I’m outta here,” a pony croaked, and everyone scattered, leaving me standing awkwardly and by myself at the center of the market.

“Yeah, that’s it, buy your cram,” the pony in the gray wintercoat said. A mare eeped as he shoved her away. “Less talking, more shopping! Go on, get outta here!

“And you,” he glared at the doomsayer, jabbing a hoof at her. “Beat it!”

The doomsayer just smiled at him. And in the corner of my eye, I felt her eyes fall upon me. I squirmed beneath her stare. Then she gave me a knowing smile.

She left, finally, stopping for a moment, and sparing me one last glance before slinking into an alleyway and back into the shadows from where she came. I gulped. I wasn’t even sure what scared me the most, that ‘darkness’, or the fact that that mare had looked at me.

At least it was quiet again. I could hone in on the sounds that I actually wanted to hear. With his back turned to me, I spied on the pony in the gray wintercoat as he glared at that dark alleyway for several long seconds. My ears perked and swiveled in his direction.

There was no way in hell I was going to follow that mare. But him … I was curious.

A jet of a mist snorted out of his nose. He shook his head, lifted a hoof and started walking away. He paused, and spared another glance over his shoulder.

She was gone.

The stallion cocked his head slightly at the gangsters who were beginning to take their leave, any threats to their business resolved and dispersed.

He looked around, did a double take over his shoulders, and sighed.

A few seconds passed. All was clear, for now. For him. He quickly left the scene. I followed, weaving through the reassembled crowds of shoppers, trying to keep my eyes on him as he pushed past nervous looking ponies.

He stopped and peered over his shoulder. I looked away, whistling as I dug absent-mindedly through my saddlebags. By the time I felt his eyes leave my direction, he was almost gone, and I struggled to maintain my distance. He sped up with every moment that passed.

I wondered what he was hiding. He didn’t want any of those Palominos near there. Who wouldn’t? But unlike the rest of the cowards around me, he was trying to keep them away - and anything that could bring them running.

He might’ve been with the resistance.

Several times he paused feverishly to see who was behind him. Several times I pretended to be doing anything but following him. While casually eyeing a stall-owner’s canned wares, I watched in my peripherals as he turned a corner, disappearing into an alleyway.

'What is with these fucking people and alleyways?' I groaned inside my head.

I pursed my lips, hurrying after him. Taking a shallow breath, I crept along the wall and peeked around it where I saw the stallion standing before three others. They all shuffled upon their hooves, nervously.

“I want you to keep those saps from bringing more trouble our way, ya dig?” he said to them. “Barely made that herd leave … we can’t risk attracting any more of Avelign’s toy-ponies to come back here and see if we already got her -”

A mare cleared her throat. “U-uh … Grifter, about that …” she began, nervously.

There was a slight pause.

“We couldn’t find her. She moves too damn fast!” said a stallion too thin for his outfit.

The one named Grifter growled, “She’s just one damn pony!”

“I nicked her wiff muh heater though, but she’s a slippery filly!” whined a big, dumb looking stallion.

Grifter’s eyes widened. “You - you did what!? I thought I told you boneheads to keep your bullets off of her! I want her alive, damnit!”

“But I-I was aimin’ fer her leg –”

“It doesn’t matter where you were aiming you moron! Boy, if you killed her … oh damn, it’ll hurt me more than I’m gonna hurt you!” Grifter groaned, facehoofing, “Did she drop the caps at least?”

The three shook their heads. “I ... I think she still has it," said the mare.

“Pony feathers! At this rate I won’t have the caps to pay Avelign after what happened last night!”

There was a tense pause. Then the thin stallion snickered, nudging the mare playfully. The dumb looking one just stood there, confused.

“You – what!? Shut your cocktrap, will ya, Twiggy!?” Grifter fumed. “If we don’t pay her what we owe, she’ll make us all disappear - for good, ya dig?!”

The dumb stallion raised his hoof, nervously. “M-maybe we can go lookin’ fer her again?”

Grifter just covered his face with a hoof.

“Shit! She’s probably long gone by now … damn … you know, sometimes I wonder if you morons are even on my side, since you do the complete opposite of everything I tell you to do!” Grifter shook his head. “Probably why she got away, too,” he growled, grinding his teeth. "Probably why you couldn't find her ..." The stallion looked over both his shoulders, before whispering, “I bet she had help from the orphans!”

My ears perked. 'Did he just say ...

'THE ‘O’ WORD?'

Big Stupid’s eyes widened. “Orphans!?” he gasped, grimacing as he shuffled on his hooves like he had to pee.

“Shush, stupid!” the mare hissed, clapping a hoof over his mouth. “You don’t want the boys outside to hear you saying that - or you’ll end up like Pomo from last Tuesday!”

The skinny one, Twiggy, sighed, “Oh come on, Dahlia, we don’t even know if it was them for sure. Might’ve even been those crazy Angel fuckers doing it.”

Grifter shook his head. “The mob’s been cleaning up the streets lately … but that Pomo was a wild one. Maybe she was cheating on the mob ...”

“Well, at least Dawdleshoes over here’d never cheat on ya,” said Twiggy, pointing at the dumb one. “He’s too fuckin’ stupid.”

The mare named Dahlia sighed, “And why in Equestria wouldn’t we be on your side? It’s our heads on the block too.”

“Because Pomo wasn’t the first!” Grifter snapped. “I heard Dolce’s been shooting up her own boys … something’s killing 'em from the inside … and there’s no way in hell I’m getting between those crazies and that heap o’dirty laundry.”

“I heard about the rumors,” Twiggy whispered. "Those orphans got strings to pull all over this place. But all that? All that killing and burning - that can’t be them …”

“Forget about it ...” Dahlia began quietly, dabbing her hoof in the snow. “The orphans don’t kill people like that … they don’t do ‘killing’. At least, not like that."

Grifter tapped his chin, apprehensively. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not like them. But something fishy’s been going on around here, and after hearing that crazy bitch and her ‘darkness,’ I don’t know who or what’s behind -”

His eyes darted over his shoulder and met mine.

'Oh.'

I ducked back into the shadows.

“Come outta there – slowly!” he shouted.

The sound of them chambering guns made me flinch.

I poked my head out from around the corner.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?” Grifter demanded, inching towards me with the others in tow.

“Uh-uh …” I stammered.

'Think, damnit, think!' I didn’t know what to say, and I knew that whatever I was going to say next was either going to buy me a bullet or buy me some time.

An awkward smile curled across my lips.

“I-I saw you talking with a Palomino earlier – was wondering what all the commotion was about.”

He chuckled nervously as I took gratification in the fear that flashed in his eyes. It worked. “The fu … big whoop – w-what's it to ya? Did they set you up for this?”

“Not enough to get me shot, I promise – and no,” I answered forcefully as I eyed Grifter’s armed ponies. “But from what I’ve learned, the Palominos are so primal that they only snap at loud noises.” I chuckled nervously at the gun barrels that were aimed at my chest.

“Saw you shouting at one earlier and she went apeshit and pounced … so I’m surprised she didn’t come back for seconds after all that monkeying around that happened out there, earlier.”

They just stared. Tough crowd.

“Praymaul?” asked big stupid Dawdleshoes.

“He means like brutish, dummy,” Dahlia hissed. "Hah, kinda like you."

Grifter glared at me. “How do ya you wanna die, kiddo? Fast or slow?”

“I don't know ... but it seems like saying the ‘O’ word would kill me faster than you guys could. Heard it’s a trigger word for something awful.” I jabbed a hoof at him. “And you guys have been talking a lot about it."

Grifter lowered his voice. “Orphanage?” He blinked, biting his lower lip.

Not too far from us, the ponies that had only just begun to resume their usual activities were starting to back away again, avoiding that alleyway like a bad smell.

“You oughta not talk so loudly, kid, or you might bring more of my good friends this way. Something I’d really like to avoid,” he trailed off, darting his eyes over my mane to see if those gangsters were anywhere.

“Hey, you ponies said it – not me,” I said, smiling crookedly.

“How’s about I shut him up, boss?” asked stupid Dawdleshoes. I frowned at him.

Grifter held up a hoof. “I don’t want to start another fuss and attract anymore of those boys, so don’t go aiming for the leg again, ya moron.”

“Listen, I wasn’t spying on you or anything,” I confessed with a chuckle, trying to laugh my nervousness away with their guns jammed in my face. “Honest,” I added. “You just look like someone who can help me …”

“Really? Kid, I got better things to do than foalsit some sap like you.” He turned and motioned to his lackeys. “Alright boys, back to work –”

“Wait - please. I need help,” I insisted, “You guys don’t have much of a problem talking about your rumors, but everybody else starts choking up whenever I mention the Orphanage. Why’s that?”

The pony snorted a jet of mist as the others exchanged glares. I could taste the bitterness in his voice as he groaned. “They’re just a bunch of rats, kid. Nopony likes 'em.”

Inhaling softly, I muttered, rolling my eyes, “Well, I can’t really dislike people I know nothing about.”

He glanced around, anxiously. “Shut up, will ya? Quit yakking about things that’ll get ya killed, ya dig?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his back on me and started walking away again.

“No – no, go ahead, just not anywhere near me or my business, okay?”

I sighed. “Oh come on!”

He shot me an irritated look over his shoulder. “Forget about it – I’m not ‘coming on’!”

Twiggy snickered, beating his hoof at Dahlia like he was beating someone off.

Grifter snapped, “You two shut it! And you!” he growled, jabbing a hoof at me, “All they do is make the plantations tick. And if you don’t pipe down, those peacoats are gonna come on over here thinking you’re one of those damn rats,” he said, nodding to the three behind him who started a few steps toward me. “And since you won’t quit talking to me, they’re gonna stick me in the icebox with you too!"

I facehoofed.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that same old shit today,” I growled. “And frankly, I don’t give a fuck. If you can’t tell me anything about them, then please, for the love of Celestia, point me to someone who can!”

The stallion stepped up to my muzzle, our faces mere breaths apart.

“How about I point you to a meat-grinder, kid?” he growled.

I gulped.

His voice was but a whisper. “You don’t wanna be in the know about the Orphanage, kiddo …” The pony’s eyes darted back and forth as he spoke. “The reason why people don’t like talking about 'em is because the Palominos have been yanking out weeds around these parts, and anypony they think is sleeping with the Orphanage gets wasted - and I’m not dunking my hooves in that mess.”

“Forget about it!” Twiggy and Dahlia both agreed.

The stupid one looked a few minutes late.

“Forget about what?”

Grifter just rolled his eyes. “Shutup. All I’m trying to do is keep my black-hatted compari from thrashing around, ya dig? Usually ends up with a few dozen ponies in bags. Usually in little bags, and it’s really bad for business. Bad for my business,” he said, glancing over his shoulders at the flickering lights at the other end of the alleyway.

“You were watching me earlier, huh? Well you saw just that, only I was lucky to walk away without missing a hoof or two.”

I let out a long and drawn out sigh.

“It’s hard to make good bank when they’re carving up the place looking for weeds to rip out all the time, ya dig!? And I’m not letting somepony help them ruin me even more!”

I smirked. “You really must be swimming in the deep end if you’re in trouble with those guys.”

He shook his head furiously, fear sweeping across his face. “No – no – no – no! You can’t say that out here … not with them watching … or listening …. me and my boys got nothing to do with the Orphanage. My sitch got nothing to do with those damn rats. I don’t want to lose my job, okay?” The pony looked over both his shoulders, hoping no one heard me. He muttered, his voice barely audible, “I damn well just about did, earlier.”

“Then why do you have beef with those gangsters?”

He shook his head with a sour chuckle. “Listen kid, it’s none of your business. And, right now, I really got worse things to deal with right now than play a twenty questions with some crumby tough guy. So beat it – before my boys beat you off!”

Grifter’s eyes widened. “Fuck!”

Twiggy burst out laughing. “HAHA - OW!” he cried as Grifter slammed a hoof into his face.

A wry grin forced its way across my cheeks. “Worse things, huh? Then you can take care of this Palomino problem of yours yourself right, tough guy?” I scoffed, “Your ‘boys’ couldn’t even take care of one pony.”

Grifter clenched his jaw and the laughing stopped.

He craned his neck toward me, and I felt the air in front of my face heat up like a furnace. A snort of hot air burned against my muzzle and I trembled inside my barding as sweat beaded up on my forehead.

I then noticed the gun tucked away beneath his winter coat.

'Shit.'

His foreleg crept up his chest, the pistol mere inches away from his reach. I gulped and watched his hoof inch ever closer.

He bumped my shoulder instead.

“Well I gotta hoof it to ya – you are one big-balled palooka,” the pony laughed at me as I fought with my own pulse. He wrapped a hoof around me and yanked me close, laughing at me. I laughed back at him. Nervously. “Level with me, kid. You offering to help me or something, or did they send you here to watch me squirm?”

I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that ponies were watching me. “They? I’m not a gangster. I’m a merc from New Apploosa,” I lied. “I’m just looking for answers.”

He cocked an eyebrow and released me. I almost tripped up on my own hooves.

I exhaled, realizing that I was holding my breath. “Maybe … I can help you help me?” I said, forcing a smile.

“Now why would I want help from some nobody like you?” he and his boys chuckled.

“Because this nobody has the balls to talk about the Orphanage in public the way I am right now,” I snapped, “So do you think I really give a shit if the Palominos try to stop me?”

He snorted, nodding with an amused grin stretching across his cheeks.

"If you're looking for answers, then you're talking to the wrong ponies, kiddo ..."

I took a step towards him. “No. I am. You seem to be willing to talk more about the Orphanage than anyone else in this Goddesses-damned town is willing to say - I don’t know why, and I don’t care.” I took a deep breath. “I need to find them. And frankly, between this Palomino problem, those moles, and these missing caps of yours, I’d say you’ve got your hooves full.”

The time that ticked by as he thought to himself in silence chipped at my already thin patience. Grifter nodded slowly, looking me up and down with a shifty look in his eyes. He stomped a hoof into the ground, an uneven grin widening across his face.

“You three, leave me with this palooka. You know what to do.”

It took a moment, but his boys nodded, slipping their weapons into their coats before starting down the alley, out the way I came. I kept one eye on my EFS and the other on the pony standing before me.

Grifter simply gestured for me to follow him.

He led me back into the market, walking down a row of glowing stalls, the warmth and light of smoking cooking pots warming my flesh slightly and the smell of burned meat wafting into my nostrils once more.

“Say, what’s your name, kid?”

“Red Dawn.”

“Yeah? And I’m Grifter,” he said, finally and formally introducing himself to me with an unceremonious bow. “So whaddya want with the Orphanage, kid? Got a bone to pick with ‘em? They steal your sweetroll?”

“I have my reasons,” I said, simply.

“Forget about it! Hell, everypony’s got a bone to pick with the Orphanage, nowadays. The Palominos aren’t an exception.” He nodded to himself, thoughtfully. “Yeah … you’re right. I do know a bit about the Orphanage. ” He walked up to a stall and plucked a bottle of Sparkle-Cola off the counter, dumping caps into somebody’s wary hooves.

The stall owner’s bodyguard gave me a sideways look.

He led me away from the market, and into another quiet alleyway. “I’ve dealt with those rats before. I used to work for them, actually. I was a courier. Ran supplies up and down their hideouts – but I left, because, ya know, I couldn’t go anywhere without getting shot.”

I nearly jumped when he swung the bottle into the wall, shattering it with a crash. A magical field wrapped around the soda pop popsicle, picking the orange shape clean of glass. He licked at the frozen treat before smiling curtly. “But you know, if you wanna die so bad, I’m not stopping you. But you gotta help me first, kid, because I won’t see the end of this day if I can’t get my friends outta my mane.”

“It looked pretty bad.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t even know half of it, kid.” He paused, grinning to himself. “I owe my friends a sum of caps ... kinda like everyone else in this town. If I don’t get it to them by the end of today, I get to disappear, ya dig?”

“Disappear?” I asked, uneasily.

“It’s kinda like being dead.” I looked at him blankly. “Because it is.”

“Oh. Well fuck.”

He chuckled dryly, giving the popsicle an apprehensive lick. “Exactly, kid.”

“If it gets those fuckers out of your mane, then I’ll give you a hoof. But you need to help me, too.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. There was a peculiar look brooding in his eyes.

“Of course, I’m no welcher … especially to ponies who give me a hoof. You get me out of this mess, I’ll point you in the right direction.”

“Finally,” I breathed, “If it gets me what I need.”

The pony thought for a moment, nodding to himself as he gnawed on the frozen soda. “Some sorry bastard took my dues and now I can’t pay up.”

I frowned, almost feeling sorry for him. Out there, caps bought a lot of things. Life was one of them.

“What do I need to do?” I asked, darkly.

“I’ve got half of my morons out here in the market, making sure no idiot pisses off anymore of Alder’s stallponies, and the other half making sure nopony messes things up over at my joint.” He shook his head, swearing under his breath. “And half really isn’t that much. Which is why I need you doing what my boys are too stupid to do."

He stomped a hoof into the snow. “All I need you to do is to get me my damn caps back. I was just about to pay my dues, and this damn broad comes right ahead and swipes my money right from under my nose!”

The pony craned his neck towards me and glared, growling through his teeth. “Find her. Bring her back. Alive. And with the money, otherwise I’m dead, and so are all my boys.”

My expression darkened. I remembered how that Palomino had tossed him around like a rag doll. Only the worst was in store for him if he didn’t get his money back.

The burning shop and the black-suited ponies came to mind. I was well aware of what they were willing to do to teach a pony a lesson.

I really didn’t want to see another burning building.

“I’ll do it,” I said, sternly, my jaw clenching. “Where can I find this pony?”

“She’s a unicorn. Red coat, red and white mane. Like a candy cane – hell, that’s her name: Candy Cane. She ain’t so sweet like one, though. Candy Cane’s a double-crossing whore … she’ll stab you in the back if she gets the chance, ya dig?”

I snorted, “Sounds like a real piece of work.”

“Forget about it!”

“Wha … why?”

Grifter just sighed. “It’s a saying, kid. Like - ‘I agree’.”

“But you’ve used it to disagree, I think …”

“Yeah - it means that too.”

“I … I still don’t …”

He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, she robbed one of my customers while she was paying up at my place, and ran off with my caps. Without that payment of hers, Avelign’ll make me pay extra – double – maybe even triple of her cut – and I can’t afford that.” He cringed, rubbing his foreleg anxiously. “Maybe even extra-extra.

“Last pony who saw Candy Cane was her. She might be able to point you to where that bitch ran off to.” The stallion took out a scrap of paper and a pencil, and scribbled down on it some notes, before hoofing it to me.

They were directions, with an address at the bottom.

“My morons were having issues with catching her. But you don’t look like a moron ... so you might just have a crack at getting her before my peacoated friends get me.”

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you, kid,” the pony said, with a grin. “I need that money before it gets too dark, so meet me back here when you find her. I’ll be here, waiting on the chopping block.”

“I’m on it,” I said, turning the other way, my eyes still on the note.

Grifter's voice echoed behind me. “You might just be the one who can save me and my boys from becoming fertilizer at Sunny Days.”