Las Pegasus. The city of sin. Everything that happens here stays here, except maybe herpes, debts, and an overwhelming feeling that the casino owners fucked us over. And now I am in the middle of it, invited by a mare I barely know, who wants me to pick her lock.

I think I saw a movie that started that way.

I walk down the crowded street not looking at anypony. I don’t notice the colourful signs above the bars, casinos, brothels and other places where a pony can make all their wishes, even those immoral, illegal or both, true. I didn’t come here to play, I’m here to work.

Finally, I find Vinyl’s house. It’s hard not to notice the tall, modern skyscraper. According to the signs, there’s a casino here, but Vinyl told me that she lives above it, in the penthouse apartment. Well, now I know why she’s not with my brother anymore.

I walk in and I’m immediately approached by two large guys wearing black suits and sunglasses, even though it’s dark outside. Typical bodyguards: big, strong and paranoid. They look at me as if I had a grenade and an assault rifle hidden in my bum. The one that looks a bit more intelligent clears his throat.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I was invited by your boss’ marefriend,” I reply, just like Vinyl instructed me. “I’m her former classmate.”

“Another one?” He shakes his head. Then he points somewhere behind him. “This elevator. Just push the button and you’ll get to the penthouse.”

In the elevator I start to wonder what did he mean by “another one”. Maybe the lock I’m supposed to pick is quite complicated. Or maybe there’s no lock, just some elaborate prank. In such case, she’ll have her ass kicked. Hard. You know, I don’t look like, but I’m half-earth pony (if you don’t believe, just look at my brother). When I was completely out of cash last Autumn, I decided to help Apple family with harvest. Best job ever, unless you’re severely allergic to apples. Free food, fresh air and an opportunity to watch Big Macintosh all day. Memories…

Well, there were also downsides. Once I got so distracted by a certain stallion bucking apples next to me that I accidentally wandered off to the wrong part of the orchard and started bucking trees in the sanctuary. Getting rid of vampire fruit bats’ shit from my mane was a real pain in the flank. Not to mention that Big Mac saw that.

With a quiet “ding!” the elevator stops. I walk out of it and meet another bodyguard. Do they clone them or what? Or maybe there’s a casting agency that can be found on yellow pages? Mook & Thug Inc, Bad Motherfuckers For Hire? He asks me what I’m doing there, so I’m telling him again about me being Vinyl’s classmate. As if she ever attended any kind of school.

He nods his head, pretending that he believes me, and leads me to the apartment door. I ring a bell.

“Come in,” I hear Vinyl’s voice.

It’s easy to recognize what kind of ponies live in an apartment, just by looking how it’s furnished. You know, I know almost everything about furniture. I used to work in a furniture factory before they kicked me out. Apparently tables should have all the legs of equal length. The furniture in this room is extravagant, shiny, and mostly impractical but expensive. In the middle of it, behind the glass table with various snacks stands a black leather couch. Vinyl Scratch, clad in the pink, frilly sleeping gown lies on it.

I stop dead in my tracks, stunned by that view, which reminds me of that movie I mentioned earlier. It sets off an alarm in my head. My mother was totally right when she told me that I’d end up as a fallen mare. For a moment, I consider running away, but then Vinyl speaks.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she says. “How are you?”

“Poor, like usual. Good to see that at least you are good,” I reply. You know, she’s the only pony allowed to call me “sweetheart”, “honey”, “baby” or whatever she wants to call me at the moment. Not that we like each other much, it’s simply impossible to talk her out of it.

“Yeah, right. You know, there are many problems of being rich.”

“I can see…” I look around the room. “Are your problems so big that you need a locksmith from Ponyville?”

She looks at me, playing with the belt of her sleeping gown.

“Well, honey, I could of course find somepony here, but I immediately thought about you. I know you could always use some cash…”

I’m not sure whether I should feel flattered or crawl into some hole, thinking about how obvious are my financial problems. Finally, I decide to focus on business.

“Let’s get it straight,” I say. “You have some lock to open, right? How much will I get for that?”

“I’ll give you twenty per cent of what’s behind it,” she replies.

Twenty percent? Hmm, it suggests some larger amount of bits… Though, after a moment, I think about the movie I watched recently again. Seriously, this stuff ruins your life.

“Umm… Vinyl…” I say. “Tell me that you don’t have a chastity belt under that sleeping gown…”

Don’t judge me, okay? I work all days and I have no time for dates. It’s the only way I can, umm… you know, maintain the healthy level of hormones in my system. Besides, the lockpicking scene was actually pretty accurate.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” She grins widely, amused by my expression. “I know you’re not like that. Your brother told me that you’re not into mares when I proposed him a three-way.”

Kill me now. Please.

“By the way, Minuette, dear, I have to warn you that it’s actually only semi-legal,” Vinyl continues. "Before I explain it to you–”

She’s interrupted by the sound of the toilet flushing. I look at the bathroom door in confusion. Vinyl didn’t tell me there’s somepony with us. On the other hoof, she wants to give me only twenty percent of what’s behind the lock. If it was a chastity belt, this’d mean… hmm, a six-way? Geez. Those rich ponies know how to play.

The door opens and the blue unicorn mare trots out of the bathroom. Her mane is light blue, almost white. I have a feeling that I know her.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is back!” she announces. Yeah, definitely I know her. A travelling magician and artist. Hobbies: fireworks, magic toys and Twilight Sparkle.

“What was the Great and Powerful Trixie doing in there for so long?” I ask. It was definitely a mistake.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is lactose-intolerant,” she replies. “And she drank latte before she realized what she was doing.”

Vinyl smirks. “So, basically, Trixie had to take a great and powerful sh–”

“Vinyl, please,” I cut her off, desperately trying to stop my imagination. “Can you tell me why exactly you brought me here, why is it semi-legal, how can anything be semi-legal in the first place, and why there was a travelling magician in your toilet?”

“Well, she’s lactose-intolerant and she had to–”

Oh, damn her and her mathematician’s answers! I slap myself in the forehead with my hoof. Vinyl knows well that it means that I’m about to lose it and it’s time to either hide or give me something sweet. A peanut butter cracker lands in my mouth before I’m able to say how much I hate her.

“Okay, listen very carefully, I shall say this only once!” Vinyl says. “You know my coltfriend, Bacio della Morte, right?”

“Trixie thinks he’s sexy,” Trixie says. I say nothing, too busy munching a peanut butter cracker. Besides, I’ve never seen the guy, so it’s hard to say whether he’s sexy or not. Though in my current state I’d probably consider everypony having an additional appendage between the hind legs sexy.

“Well, maybe he’s sexy–” Vinyl takes a peanut butter cracker and levitates a bucket of ice cream from the kitchen. Hide your wife, hide your foals, rant is on the way. “–but he’s also a cheating bastard, who has no time for me! Even now he went ‘fishing’! Fishing! Who the hell needs a bag of concrete when fishing? And he barely gives me money!” She bangs her hoof against the quite expensive coffee table. The wood it was made of is almost extinct. You know, after I was kicked out of furniture factory, I started to work for an organisation occupying furniture factories, so I know such things.

Vinyl continues her rant. “And he’s always surrounded by those scary ponies… Drug dealers, assassins, thugs and politicians…” It’s amazing how she’s able to whine and eat ice cream at the same time. Trixie pokes me discreetly. I look at her and she levitates a glass of whisky from the cocktail cabinet to me. I drink it in one go, feeling the liquid warming my body as it goes down my oesophagus. Suddenly, Vinyl’s ranting is much more bearable. The world is a better place, my debts are much smaller, there are no wars, and the little fillies, cured of cancer, are dancing and singing happily…

Focus, Minuette. You just took the first step down the path leading towards alcoholism. What’d your mother say? Trixie levitates another drink to me. I accept it without hesitation, then I tune myself in to what Vinyl is saying.

“...and when we’re in bed, he insists on…”

Oh, hell no! I pour myself another drink. I can feel a pleasant hum in my head and my vision gets a bit blurry. However, a part of me, the one who likes to remind me about my mother, begins to scream in horror. It’s hard not to listen to it: since I had breakfast, I ate only two peanut butter crackers, which means that I’ll soon be out. Not a good idea. I grab some cookies and sweets, hoping that it’d be enough to contain the process of absorption of alcohol in my stomach.

“...so, all things considered, he’s a friggin’ motherfucker and he needs to be punished,” Vinyl ends her speech. Trixie looks at her unsurely. She also had her share of whisky and her system is probably still a bit upset after the latte, so she’s not in the best shape at the moment.

“H-how do you want to punish him?” I ask. When I hear my voice I realize that I’m still in worse condition than Trixie. Not surprising actually. As most of my oddjobs take place outdoors, I’m thin, while Trixie is rather curvy. Not that I know something about other mares’ flanks, but I guess many stallions got caught in the gravity field of her posterior.

“That’s why I need you two,” Vinyl lowers her voice to a whisper, while looking at us, her eyes half-closed. “He keeps his money in the safe in the basement, guarded by two tough guys.”

I burst into laughter. I’m afraid it’s whisky-induced. “So, you want to rob him? And you call that semi-legal?”

“It’s semi-legal, because the money ain’t legal, sweetie,” Vinyl replies. “He won’t go to the Guard… That’s the beauty of it. We’ll get the money and run away to Hayland where we’ll eat, drink and fuck...”

Oh yeah. Till one day there’ll be a zebra waiting in my bowl of rice, ready to pop a cap in my ass. Thank you, but no.

“How many bits you think are there?” I ask. Or rather, three glasses of whisky drunk in only few minutes ask on my behalf.

“At least a million. Probably more.”

Shit. Part of me yells at me that I’m irresponsible and too dumb to live, but I can barely hear that.

“How do you want to accomplish that? You said something about guards…”

“Don’t worry about them. Trixie knows an illusion spell that will help us get past them,” Vinyl explains. Trixie smiles half-consciously. I’m quite sure Vinyl is the only sober pony in this room. Assuming that she’s ever sober. I sometimes think that she has some rare genetic condition that makes her system produce alcohol on its own.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Trixie asks. “Minuette’s here, so we can go to the basement and get the cash.”

“Wait!” I exclaim. Even when I’m about to break the law, I want to do it reasonably. It’s like jaywalking in Manehattan: when you do it, you look for the carts first and then do it fast. You don’t stop in the middle of the road, waiting for the cab to change you into a nice, red smear on the road. “Do we have some escape plan?”

“Trixie has a wagon,” Trixie replies. “It’s parked in the garage. Trixie has food and drinks inside, we’ll get out of the town in a few minutes.“

I sigh with relief. At least they thought about it. However, I still have some doubts.

“What if they spot us?” I ask.

“They won’t take us alive…” Vinyl says. She opens a closet with her magic and levitates a shotgun to us. While doing so, she accidentally aims it at her head for a split seconds, then she briefly aims it at me. I guess she keeps it loaded – an accident waiting to happen. You know, I repair guns from time to time. I also worked for a company that cleans the crime scenes after the royal guards are done with them. I resigned after we had to clean a room where some guy accidentally shot himself with the biggest gun I ever saw. I threw up exactly two seconds after entering the place and decided that it wasn’t a job for me.

“So, any more questions?” Vinyl asks. Trixie and I have none, so Vinyl gets up, takes off her sleeping gown and puts on a black trench coat. Then she hides her shotgun under it. It looks as if she had priapism, but it may pass if one doesn’t look close enough. Then she puts on a fedora hat. I shudder upon seeing the effect: she looks exactly like my ex. I almost wanted to marry him, but one day he decided that our sex life wasn’t interesting enough and talked me into a roleplay to spice things up. More exactly, he wanted me to dominate him and I did.

Five minutes later he was buying a ticket for a ship to Stalliongrad. Apparently not everyone likes duct tape, nut drivers and staple guns.

I take my tools, and we go to the elevator.

“Where are you going, ma’am?” The bodyguard asks Vinyl. He looks at Trixie, then puts his gaze on me. I realize that I smile sheepishly at him. Whether it’s an effect of the whisky I drank or the fact that he’s a quite handsome stallion, I have no idea. I immediately stop smiling.

“Girls night!” Vinyl exclaims, hugging Trixie. I’d hug her too… That flank…

Wait! I slap myself mentally. Chill out, Minuette. Once we have money, I have to find some calm place and make use of my hooves. I should be more concerned with the fact that Vinyl’s rapid moves may cause the shotgun to slip from under her coat. Then we’d be fucked. Unfortunately, not in the sense I’d like to.

Fortunately, the bodyguard doesn’t see my confusion. Maybe he’s like me: just a look at two mares innocently hugging makes the blood from his brain flow somewhere else. Too bad his suit makes it impossible for me to check that theory. We go to the elevator and soon we’re in the basement. There’s indeed a parking garage there, as well as some metal door. I look at them conspicuously. Vinyl notices that.

“You don’t have to open them, sweetheart, I have a key. But first Trixie must un-see us.”

“It’s called ‘von Unsichtbar’s Camouflage Spell’,” Trixie says in a slightly annoyed tone. “Technically we’ll still be visible, just nopony will be able to notice us.”

“Yeah, what she says.” Vinyl rolls her eyes. I actually don’t feel too confident about that. What if Trixie un-notices us forever? I mean, I’d be able to steal food from the shops and watch stallions in the shower, but it’d mean that I’d forever be a part of the background. A wallflower, whether I want it or not. A background pony.

Geez, I’d give everything for another whisky.

Meanwhile Trixie casts a spell. In fact I expected it to be more complicated. Spells like that usually involve some lengthy preparations and weird items, such as cat’s blood or a virgin sacrifice, but this one’s simple. Trixie’s horn just lights up and I see Vinyl disappear. That is, I can still see her when I look at her directly, but when I lose focus, I have to spend some time looking for her again. Judging by her confused look, the same thing happened to me.

“Okay, Vinyl, lead the way,” Trixie says. She’s also invisible… or camouflaged. Or whatever. We walk through the parking lot, carefully avoiding the carriages. The ponies in them can’t see us, after all. We realise that fully when a pizza guy almost bumps into us. I try to pat Vinyl to catch her attention, but it’s hard when I have to really focus to see her. Finally, I manage to put my hoof on Trixie’s shoulder…

“Hey! What are you doing to Trixie’s flank?”

Okay, it wasn’t her shoulder. But it’s not my fault, I really aimed for it.

“Trixie has to focus on maintaining the spell. But if you want, Trixie can show you the real magic later…” Trixie almost purrs the last words.

Oh, hell no. To change the topic, I point at the pizza guy.

“He’s going to the same door as we,” I say. “We have to sneak behind him. It’s better than the door opening on its own, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Vinyl replies. We follow the pony with pizza. Geez, I’m hungry. He stands in front of the door and pushes the button next to it.

“Who’s there?” we hear a deep, nasty voice from the speaker.

“I brought pizza,” the colt replies. I look at him, but I don’t find him very attractive. Too young, too skinny, too spotty. And he’s a pizza guy, so he’s probably poor too.

We wait a few minutes before the door opens. The stallion who appears in it is huge. Like, he’s probably bigger than Big Macintosh. Too bad I can’t compare all the measures, as he’s wearing a suit. He’s grey, he has a short beard and sunglasses. Maybe in different circumstances we could–

Vinyl pokes me. I realize that I’m drooling. Really, this itch needs to be scratched, no pun intended. Once I get rid of my partners in crime, I’m gonna lock myself somewhere with my share of money, vaseline, and the newest issue of Hot Flank magazine.

We sneak past the guard when he pays. I have one more occasion to see those muscles in close-up, but I’m quickly dragged away by Trixie. Unseen, we walk down the corridor. Vinyl slaps me in the back of the head.

“Since when you started to think with your honey pot?” Vinyl whispers loudly.

“With my WHAT?” I whisper even louder. Trixie looks at us as if we were crazy or something.

“You don’t have to whisper. Thanks to Trixie’s spell they can’t hear us either,” she deadpans.

Still, it feels weird for me. Vinyl, however, has no problems with getting used to that.

“With your Pink Sink,” she says. I try to make the most innocent expression I can muster, so she goes on. “Area 51. Foal Cannon. Umm… Muffin? Coin Purse?”

“Vinyl, how many more euphemisms do you know?” I ask. “I just want to know without you listing every single one…”

“One hundred forty-eight,” she replies. Trixie, of all the ponies, rolls her eyes and facehoofs.

Without talking more, we go down the corridor. We go past the small room where another guard waits for the one with pizza. He’s equally big and even more muscular. Gods are doing this to me on purpose. But, on the second thought… I’m invisible, or rather, as Trixie says, unnoticeable. I wonder if he’d notice me if I sneaked to him and…

Focus, Minuette, for fuck’s sake! You’d never be able to look into your mother’s eyes again after that. Besides, soon you’ll have enough money to purchase your own island and a bunch of huge, muscular zebra slaves, who are fond of watersports. You probably don’t know, but I just love windsurfing.

Finally we are at the safe. It looks solid – a tall box made of shiny stainless steel, at least two inches thick, with a rotary combination lock in the middle of the silvery door. But for me it doesn’t matter. Do you know that ninety percent of safes opens when you drop them? Too bad I can’t do that here. While the guards can’t notice us, they’ll surely notice the safe levitating itself and falling on the floor. I have to do that the old-fashioned way: by turning the knobs and listening to the clicks of the lock. I slowly turn the knob with my magic.

It takes time to learn how to listen to the lock. Most of the ponies are unable to do that anyway. I lean closer to the safe’s door and I hear the first click. I smirk. It seems that the whisky didn’t affect my skills. That’s actually what happened to my uncle: he was also blessed with such a skill, but one day he grew so confident that he tried to rob Fancy Pants’ safe while attending a party at his mansion. Of course, he got caught. I still visit him in jail from time to time.

I turned the knob and I hear another click. From what I know about safes like this one, the locks in them usually use five-digits codes. Three more clicks and we’re home. Come on… I can feel blood flowing faster in my veins. Sometimes I think that it’s better than sex.

Click!

Well, it’s even better than sitting on the top of the roof at night with a bottle of vodka.

Click!

And it’s even better than hay fries.

Click!

I open the safe. What I see inside is better than having sex on the top of the roof at night, while drinking vodka and eating hay fries. I turn around and after I focus, I can see Trixie and Vinyl looking at me with their jaws dropped.

“What are you looking at?” I ask. “Pack it and get out!”

“H-how did you do that?” Vinyl asks.

“You should have watched. Now pack the money and let’s go.”

One of the advantages of being a unicorn is that you can carry two bags of bits on your back and still you can levitate three or four more. Vinyl and I carry the money, while Trixie focuses completely on maintaining the spell. I wonder if she feels the same pleasure casting spells as me when I open safes.

We walk down the corridor. I must stop myself from jumping up and down like a little filly. I feel great. I feel like I could kick the whole world in the balls…

The guards are in the corridor with an empty pizza box. They’re talking about hoofball or something similar. I doesn’t seem they’ll go back to their room soon. We have to sneak past them. It’s not an easy task. As I mentioned before they’re quite big. When they stand next to each other there’s barely a place to walk between them.

I levitate the bags with money above their heads, then I trot carefully inches from them. Vinyl follows me. Even with her ridiculous coat and fedora, she’s skinny enough to sneak past them. Now it’s Trixie’s turn. I have bad feelings about this…

Of course, Trixie brushes her flank against the guard’s. He looks around, confused, then he looks directly at Trixie, who’s sweating, trying to shrink and hide in the dent in the wall behind her.

“Maintain the–” Vinyl shouts to her.

Suddenly, Trixie’s magic disappears.

“–spell,” Vinyl ends flatly.

I feel naked. Like, I’m naked most of the time, but this time I feel more naked than usual. It feels like my skin was peeled off, part of my muscles was removed and they were watching my organs working. How my heart beats. How my lungs breathe. How shit forms in my bowels.

Shit that is about to hit the fan.

“Run!” I scream. Even in such situation, I don’t release the bags I’m holding with my magic. To my surprise I can see Trixie overtaking me. Vinyl’s lagging behind, courtesy of her trench coat. The guards are about to get her, but then I throw one of the bags I’m levitating at them. It hits the grey one’s face, knocking him down. His companion trips over him. Vinyl runs like hell, trying to catch up with us.

Finally, we’re at the parking lot. We’re about to get to our wagon, when we see some ponies next to a large, luxurious carriage. One of them catches my attention: he’s smaller than the rest, his suit is more expensive. He’s a white earth pony with raven-black mane, tied in a ponytail. He has a piercing in his ear and he’s smoking a cigarette.

“Vinyl? What are you doing here?” he asks. What a dumb question. It just begs for a dumb answer.

“BREAKING UP WITH YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!” Vinyl shouts. Here we go.

“What the–” He just notices the money floating above his head.

“Sorry mate, no time for dealing with your shit!” I say quickly. I levitate the briefcase standing next to him and I slam him in the head with it. Vinyl and I throw the money to Trixie’s wagon, while Bacio della Morte’s bodyguards look at us, shocked by our audacity.

“Trixie? Where are you?” I shout. Then I curse under my breath when I see her surrounded by our old friends – guards, of whom one is really pissed.

“Vinyl, get in the wagon!” I shout, running to her. When I’m a few steps from the guards, I jump.

Contrary to what some ponies say about my cutie mark, I can’t slow down time. But I can levitate myself for a short while, which looks as if I was moving in slow motion. I even somersault in mid-air. The guards are watching me, stunned, when my hooves, trained by the whole season of applebucking, many moons of trotting from one workplace to another and my stress-relieving activities, contact with their faces. One of them collapses, but the other one stands still when I land in front of him. Before I can do something, he hits me with his hoof, knocking me out for a moment.

When I wake up, I’m on the ground. He’s standing above me, prodding me with his hoof. Yeah, motherfucker, you just hit a mare. A mare who just changed your friend’s face into a clue for a plastic surgeon, but still a mare. A drunk, frustrated mare, who’s now extremely pissed. I raise my head, my horn locking on target.

He screams when my spell burns a hole in his trousers and hits home. Or rather, his family jewels. I stand up and buck him in the face for a good measure. He falls to the ground, holding his burnt groin and howling. I watch him for a moment, in case he wants to continue the fight. Then I help Trixie up and we run to the wagon.

Fortunately, Vinyl decided to use her magic to propel it forward, instead of pulling it herself. It’s only a bit easier than trying to levitate oneself, and extremely draining for even the strongest unicorn. But it’s also much faster which in our situation is vital – when I turn around, I see della Morte’s thugs aiming their guns at us. I wonder where they hide this whole armoury: assault rifles, shotguns, submachine guns, revolvers, whatever you want.

“Sweet fucking baby Woona!” I hear Trixie’s voice. We get into the wagon and immediately lie down on the floor, hearing the bullets whistle above us, ricocheting off the planks. The splinters from the wagon’s walls tangle in our manes. Bacio della Morte’s briefcase falls on my head – I must have taken it together with the bits.

I breathe heavily, my heart is pounding against my chest. Actually it’s not that bad – at least I know I’m still alive.

While the wooden walls of the wagon aren’t the best protection against bullets, several bags of golden coins are. Vinyl still uses her magic to move the carriage and soon we leave the garage. The mobsters are still chasing us: two carriages and some ponies galloping with guns in their mouths. How it’s even possible to shoot like that? I guess their dentists are quite rich...

“Vinyl!” I shout.

“Yes?” Her voice is strained. She’s sweating, focused on maintaining the stream of energy around the wagon’s wheels.

“Give me your shotgun!”

She takes the shotgun from underneath her coat and throws it to me. I catch it with my magic and check if the shells are inside. The magazine is full, there’s also a round in the barrel. Normally, I’d tell Vinyl something about such carelessness, but now I want to hug her. Just imagine me, with my shaky hooves and magic, trying to load that thing. Knowing my luck, I’d probably shoot myself first somehow, even with the safety on.

I levitate the shotgun to the window, but on a second thought, I grab it with my hooves. Of course, I could fire at them blindly, using my magic, but I don’t want to shoot any kid accidentally wandering nearby. Or a pregnant mare. Or a pregnant mare with ten foals. I stick the shotgun out of the window and fire, aiming above their heads. I don’t want to kill anypony, after all.

Several bullets from the submachine gun whistle inches from my head. Automatically, I pump the hoofgrip back and forth and shoot back at the guy galloping closest to our wagon. The buckshot ricochets off the concrete, causing him to jump back in fear and trip over his own legs. I sigh with relief – I wanted exactly that, to scare him instead of killing him.

The carriage with more thugs runs him down. As you may expect, it’s quite messy, so I’m gonna spare you the details. Stunned, I watch this scene and suddenly I feel whisky and peanut butter crackers going up my oesophagus. I collapse on my knees and vomit violently.

“Are you okay, Minuette?” Trixie asks. Really, is it ‘Stupid Questions Evening’? I just saw a pony being almost cut in half with a wheel of a carriage and, to make matters worse, it’s kinda my fault. I vomit like a cat after eating sleeping pills. I think she can see that I’m not okay, right?

Slowly, I stand up and look at Trixie. Pale face, gritted teeth, I look like a friggin’ commando. That is, till I have to retch some bile. Luckily, it doesn’t land on her.

“Take the shotgun…” I say. My voice is quiet and raspy. “I’ll help Vinyl.”

Vinyl is at the verge of fainting. Her magic is flickering; she’s panting heavily. She took off her coat, but she’s still sweating. I pat her arm and light up my horn, while she collapses, too tired to say something.

“There’s only one carriage chasing us!” Trixie shouts. Not surprising. The crew of the second one probably still feels awkward after they accidentally killed their colleague.

A shot rings in my ears. Trixie reloads the shotgun, spent case landing in the puddle of my vomit. She pulls the trigger one more time, but nothing happens. Of course, the ammo belongs to Vinyl, who knows how she stores it. In her ass, maybe? Trixie waves the shotgun around, turning to me. Oh, fuck no…

“Minuette! It doesn’t–” The shotgun goes off. Hangfire, of course. I try to shrink myself, but I imagine shots piercing through me. What would my mother say?

Nothing nice, probably.

I open my eyes. Luckily the shots hit the ceiling of the wagon. Trixie screams and drops the shotgun. She looks at me, her eyes wide and tries to levitate it with her magic.

“Put it fucking down!” I shout, wiping sweat from my forehead. I still hear ringing in my ears. “Just put it down and don’t fucking touch it!” It’s a bit harsh, I know, but she just proved that she’s completely unfamiliar with guns. Well, it’s kinda my fault too – I should’ve ask her first if she ever shot anything before handing the shotgun to her.

Actually, it’s mostly my fault.

I focus on propelling our wagon forward. I navigate it carefully through the narrow streets of the Las Pegasus’ outskirts. The thugs are still chasing us, but they’re tired; none of them is a unicorn, so they have to pull the carriages themselves. Soon, we lose them.

I collapse on the floor next to Vinyl. Now Trixie is moving the wagon. She’s still shivering after the accident with the shotgun, but luckily it doesn’t affect her magic.

“How are you?” Vinyl whispers to me. She’s still barely able to move or use magic.

“Frankly, I feel like shit,” I reply. My horn hurts – I definitely overexerted myself. Vinyl reaches her hoof to the crate with our supplies and takes a bottle of vodka. She opens it, takes a sip and gives it to me.

I know I shouldn’t. I’m exhausted, dehydrated and hungry, but I take a long swig anyway. My vision blurs almost immediately. I don’t even try to talk – I know I’m unable to form any coherent phrase at the moment.

I barely notice the moment when the wagon stops in the middle of the desert and Trixie collapses next to us, panting heavily. Last thing I remember before falling asleep is me trying to put my head on her flank.

I sit on the sand, thinking of the events of the last night. My stomach rumbles, but I don’t care. Even my eyes hurt – the Sun jars them mercilessly. I hardly notice when Trixie sits next to me and gives me a bottle of water.

“Are you okay, Minuette?” she asks. It’s the same question she asked me earlier, but it doesn’t seem stupid anymore.

“Trixie,” I say bitterly. “They’re gonna kill us. They’ll find us and torture us... Then they’ll put our remains in the plastic bags and dump us into the river…” I try to get up, but Trixie stops me.

“Trixie doesn’t think it’d be that bad…” she says. “We have money, we can hide.”

“Hide where?” I ask. Seriously, I’m gonna cry. Trixie notices this and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. Wow. Thanks, girl. Suffocate me, so I’ll at least die quickly.

“There’s a rock farm nearby. Nopony ever goes there. Trixie used to work there and she knows the owner. Once Vinyl finishes what she’s doing now, we can go there.”

“A rock farm?” From what I heard about rock farms, workers there are usually well paid. Actually, the only rock farm worker I know managed to purchase the Alicorn Amulet after only two seasons of being there, and enslaved my home town, but still. Bygones be bygones.

Too bad, Bacio della Morte doesn’t think that way. Not when his money is concerned.

“Yeah. It’s a big area, we can even hide our money there,” Trixie replies. There’s however one more thing that bugs me.

“What’s Vinyl doing?” I ask. “You said that–”

“Oh, she’s doing… umm… a number two.” Trixie blushes heavily. Eww… I’m not gonna turn around. Instead, I return Trixie’s hug. Absolutely non-sexually. I don’t want to try some funny things with her, I’m not like that. But it just feels… right, I think. She asks me those stupid questions ponies usually ask when they care… Or pretend to care. Maybe she cares about me?

I decide to not to think about that. Instead, I look at the horizon – to the rock farm where we’ll hopefully find shelter.

Author's Notes:

I guess it'll slowly evolve into a road fic...