The light of a street lamp flickered. Coco looked at it unsurely and quickened up her pace. Manehattan, as she knew well, was a town of great possibilities. Unfortunately, living there also meant walking through the dark, empty streets, littered with rubbish.

Coco looked around nervously. When she’d arrived to Manehattan, she thought that she’d soon get used to its citizens and start to enjoy everything the town had to offer. Too bad, that wasn’t the case. She didn’t mind the wide, well-lit streets full of shops and fancy restaurants; but it was far too easy to take a wrong turn and find herself in, as Coco’s friend Grace said, a completely different ecosystem.

Now, she was right in the middle of it; a labyrinth of narrow paths surrounding blocks of cheap, small flats towering over Coco. There was nopony around, but she thanked Celestia for that; seeing the grim, emaciated ponies looking at her with strange sparks in their hungry eyes would be even worse.

Grace had called it an ecosystem, but Coco had a better word for it: organism. An enormous, overwhelming chunk of cancerous tissue right in the middle of the town. She could sense the signs of life with ease. There were sounds coming from the nooks: smashed bottles, screams, muted laughter and spasmodic moans of a mare having sex. A wave of musky, organic smells was assaulting Coco’s nostrils.

Suddenly, she felt something; it was like a touch of a cold hoof on her back. She knew that feeling well.

Someone was watching her.

She turned back, but there was nopony there; just an empty street, walls covered in graffiti and torn posters and an overfilled trash can. Coco sighed with relief and trotted forward. She recognised her surroundings; she was only two blocks from her home.

“Freeze!” She heard a voice in front of her. She stopped immediately; one of the first things a pony was learning after coming to Manehattan was that it was better to obey commands from ponies who were hiding in the shadows.

“Gimme all yer money! Now!” the voice ordered. A short, grey unicorn with a spiky red mane stepped into a circle of light from the street lamp. He was wearing a black leather jacket obscuring his cutie mark. Coco opened her mouth in a silent scream when she saw that he was levitating a knife. She didn’t know how far he could reach with his magic, but something was telling her that the answer was “far enough”.

“Yer money! C’mon!” the unicorn prompted. Two more ponies in leather jackets approached her; judging by the steps, there were also two more behind her back.

“I’d listen to him, if I were ya...” she heard another voice. To her surprise, it was belonging to a filly, who stepped into a circle of light, smirking at Coco.

When Coco was young, her parents warned her about a group of kids that looked exactly like that filly. She had amaranth mane and brown coat; Coco thought that she’d make a good model, if it wasn’t for her slight pudginess. A couple of piercings adorned her ears. Black leather jacket with silver studs was hanging from her back. She was chewing bubble gum; when Coco looked into her green eyes, she blew a large, red balloon which popped, spraying Coco with pieces of gum and saliva.

“We don’t want trouble,” she said. A knife almost touching Coco’s throat was telling her something different. “We only want your money.”

Coco slowly reached to her saddlebags and searched for her wallet. She gave it to the filly, who immediately looked inside. Her smirk faded.

“Only a hundred bits?” she asked. Coco thought that she looked like a foal who didn’t get a gift on Hearth’s Warming Eve.

The impression didn’t last long. “What are ya smiling at, cunt?” the filly exclaimed. “What d’ya have in your saddlebags? C’mon, show us!”

Coco gulped. She didn’t have anything valuable; just a couple of unfinished drawings of her projects, new threads she’d bought earlier that day and the keys to her flat. The assailants were looking at the contents of her saddlebags unsurely.

“We can still take something else…” One of the ponies behind Coco muttered. She froze when she felt his hoof reaching below her tail. Her first thought was to kick him, but then she remembered about the knife still aimed at her.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” the filly exclaimed.

“What?” The pony behind Coco was still feeling her up. “Are you jealous or what? You can help yourself too… I guess you’ll find the way…”

“Just try, and I’ll feed your balls to ya…” the filly replied, producing a knife from her jacket. Coco sighed with relief when she felt that the colt retreated his hoof.

“We ain’t have time for that anyway…” said the unicorn. “Let’s go before she pees herself…”

The group ran away and disappeared in the nooks, leaving Coco alone in the middle of the street. Before they left, a pale yellow pegasus with a green mane, the one who was standing behind her, gave her a final look, grinned at her madly and took off.

For a moment, Coco just stood there, slowly realising that she’d just been mugged. Then she quickly collected the scattered contents of her saddlebags and galloped to her home, swallowing tears.

There were many empty buildings in Manehattan. Lots of the town inhabitants tried, at some points of their lives, to establish some kind of a business. Many of those enterprises would later go bankrupt, leaving empty warehouses, ruined magazines or abandoned factories. The owners would just sigh heavily and put a padlock on the door, hoping to come back there once their situation improved.

It was far too easy to open a padlock. In one of such warehouses, placed not far away from Bridleway, five young ponies were sitting around the bonfire. Their leather jackets, stolen from some griffons some time ago, were lying in a dark corner. A bottle, hidden in a brown paper bag, was being passed from one pony to another. The brown filly spat her bubble gum into the bonfire, took a cigarette from a package lying next to her and lit it.

“One hundred bits ain’t bad,” she said, blowing out the smoke. “But one more stunt like that, Cracker, and I’m gonna slice your balls off…”

“Oh, gimme a break, Babs,” Cracker, a lanky yellow pegasus with a green mane replied. “When I see a nice ass, I can’t resist… Yer ass also applies.”

“Then wank yerself off before we get another client,” Babs said. “Hedgehog doesn’t have such problems…” She pointed at the grey unicorn with red mane, who was trying to tune an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, because ya two fuck like rabbits…” Cracker muttered. “I bet he fucks White Dove too…”

White Dove, the only, except Babs, filly in the group, shuddered. Before they’d mugged Coco, she had to spend twenty minutes waiting in a dark alley with Cracker. It was her first time robbing someone and for a moment she considered running away. Then Cracker told her what he’d do to her if she did.

“I ain’t fucking Dove,” Hedgehog said. “She’s not even fifteen… I’d rip her cunt apart…”

White Dove’s face became red. Babs looked at her; yet another time she thought how similar she was to her cousin’s friend, Sweetie Belle. If it wasn’t for Dove’s orange, curly mane, she wouldn’t be able to tell which one was which one.

“Yeah, right…” Cracker gave out a high-pitched chuckle. “She looks tight but not that tight…”

“Shut up, Cracker,” the fifth member of the gang, a muscular donkey called Razgovor, said. It was the first thing he said that night, but even Cracker knew well that when Razgovor actually bothered to speak, it was better to listen to him.

“So, who’ll be our next client?” Hedgehog asked. He struck a chord on his guitar and winced, hearing the results.

“Dunno, we’ll have to lay low for a few days,” Babs replied. “She may call the guards.” Suddenly she started to laugh and was soon joined by the rest of the group.

“Call the guards, good one…” Hedgehog wiped tears from his eyes. “But I’m asking seriously.”

“No idea,” Babs replied. “Raz, what d’ya think?”

The donkey shrugged and pointed at White Dove. Even though she didn’t drink much, she was nodding off, resting against him.

“White Dove?” Babs called. “Wake up, sleepyhead!”

“What?” White Dove opened her eyes and looked around groggily. “Where were we?”

Babs rolled her eyes. “I asked who we’ll do next time,” she said. “Any ideas?”

“Oooh…” White Dove’s eyes lit up when she started to think about the possibilities. “There are those girls at school I don’t like… They have lots of money and they always party during the weekends...”

“Rich cunts then,” Babs muttered. “I’m liking this idea… They, like, walk around from one club to another with bits in their purses?”

“No idea,” White Dove replied. “My mom doesn’t let me go to the parties…”

Cracker giggled. “And she lets ya hang out with us?” he asked. “Tell yer mom that she’s doing it wrong…”

“She doesn’t know…” White Dove blushed. “She thinks I’m having a sleepover…”

“Well, ya can have a sleepover with me…” Cracker muttered, waving his hoof. Razgovor cleared his throat and sent him a nasty glare.

“Anyway,” Babs said. “Rich bitches just waiting to get fucked. Sounds like a plan for me…”

“Yeah…” Hedgehog yawned. “Enough of talkin’ business.” He took a sip from the bottle and began playing the guitar. Babs looked into the fire, listening to the noisy, out-of-tune melody and raspy singing of her friend.

No one asked us before we were born,
if we want to live in such a way.
No matter, a pair of wings or a horn,
They will all try to get us someday.

Cutie Mark Crusaders, they used to call themselves. Well, Cracker and Hedgehog already had cutie marks and Raz, as a donkey, had no chance to get one. But they still liked to hang out together. Anything was better than staying at home.

They’ll catch us and cut our manes,
They’ll chain us and lock us in cells.
They’ll wipe all the thoughts from our brains,
They’ll change us into empty shells.

Babs started to wonder what her parents were doing. Perhaps they were asleep; they’d gotten used to the fact that their daughter was spending whole days and nights away from home long ago. As long as she was bringing money, they didn’t ask any questions.

And when they will finally release us,
We’ll be nothing like we used to be,
We’ll be singing while lying in the grass,
‘Oh, Celestia, I’m so glad to be me!’

“Really? Cells and shells?” Cracker asked, rolling his eyes, after Hedgehog finished the song.

“Oh, shut up,” Hedgehog replied. “It’s about the message.”

“Message, right…” Cracker spat into the bonfire. “Muggin’ morons, paintin’ dicks on the walls, and when someone catches ya, ya’ll sing ‘em how much they violate yer freedom? Message...”

“It’s not about that,” Hedgehog replied. “I think everypony should have a right to express their opinion–”

“So, let me express mine,” Cracker interrupted him. “When I say that I want a pussy it’s because I want one, not because there’s some kind of ideo… whatever bullshit ya come up with, that makes me want one. Also, Celestia doesn’t give a fuck about yer opinions.” He turned to the rest of his companions. “Am I right?”

“Fuck it,” Raz replied. White Dove was sleeping with her head resting against his shoulder.

“As usual, Raz hits the jackpot,” Babs said. “I’m too tired and too drunk to give a fuck about ideology. I’m gonna just take a leak and go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Babs moaned. Panting heavily, Hedgehog rolled off her and lay next to her on the mattress. Babs stretched her body, sat on the floor and frowned watching the cum dripping from between her legs. Her heartbeat went back to its normal pace.

Already? Babs thought. “Ya did that again,” she said, glaring daggers at Hedgehog. “If ya knock me up, I’m gonna kill ya…”

Hedgehog yawned, his eyes closed.

“And don’t even try that talk about the foals of the revolution or I’ll bite your balls off…” She heard his snoring. “Well, fuck ya too…” she muttered and got up.

Walking past the remains of bonfire, she found the bottle of alcohol. There was still a half of inch of liquid in it. She drank it, wincing, and threw the bottle at the wall. She took her jacket and put it on. Pleasant warmth spread along her body, soothing the pain between her legs.

She trotted to the metal staircase and climbed on the roof. Carefully avoiding the scattered pieces of metal, she went to the edge and sat there, looking down.

Even though it was night, Babs could still see the light in many windows. Seen from the roof, they looked like the stars belonging to some distant galaxy. She imagined the ponies who lived there; what caused them to stay awake for so long? Were they crying after the only money they had was stolen? Were they happy because they didn’t have to deal with their teenage daughter?

Some of them are probably having sex… Babs thought. It was strange; due to the general tendency to cut costs by building thinner walls, privacy was almost non-existent in Manehattan, but still there was something vile about thinking about other ponies doing it.

Babs thought about Hedgehog and sighed. Some of them probably can actually do that…

Some of the lights were turned off, but several new appeared in their place. Babs looked at the bay and at the Statue towering over it.

She thought about what she had to do the next day and shuddered. She heard legends about ponies whose lives ended in the dark waters of the bay. But, on the other hoof, the money was worth risk.

She chuckled. Hedgehog could talk about freedom and society without rulers and ruled, but, at the end of the day, it was always about the money. She hated to admit it, but Cracker was actually the only member of their group who was honest about that.

Kinda like cousin Applejack… Babs thought. If cousin Applejack was a pegasus who’d probably fell off of Cloudsdale and crashed into the ground head-first when she was young.

Well, maybe Raz was also honest. But, on the other hoof, who knew what was going on in his head?

Babs shook her head and took a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her jacket. She opened it and grabbed a cigarette with her teeth. She searched through her pockets and found a golden lighter. She smirked, remembering how they’d robbed its previous owner. Cracker wanted to sell the lighter and share the money, but she insisted on keeping it.

The bitter smoke filled her lungs. She exhaled it and watched it forming a cloud in front of her, obscuring the view of the town. The taste of cheap cigarette was irritating her palate. Babs took it out of her mouth and spat, watching the thick saliva falling all the way down on the pavement.

She remembered a doctor from her school, who kept telling the students about lung cancer. She never cared about that. In a town like Manehattan, the probability that she’d live long enough to suffocate, with bones and brain eaten by metastases, was really low. Such things as drunk taxi drivers, a blade of a knife in the darkness or a clean 9mm hole in the forehead were much more likely.

“One day I’ll die,” Babs said to nopony in particular and inhaled the smoke, letting the aroma of tobacco buzz in her head. She looked at the town below her. “But first, I’ll make Manehattan mine…”

Author's Notes:

A different town, a different filly and a different crime, but the same feelings...