“How d’ya think? How much that one have?” Nightcap asked, pointing at a brown stallion with blonde mane and white, thick-rimmed glasses.

“Five hundred, maybe less,” Babs replied. “‘Sides, he’s not lookin’ for a mare. Can ya see his sweater? He’s gay.”

Nightcap shook her head. “Ya’re too quick to assume. Such outfit is just fashionable…”

“A stallion and fashion? Please…” Babs chuckled. “He’s gayer than Scootaloo…”

“Who?” Nightcap asked, still watching the stallion. “What he’s lookin’ for?”

“Dunno, maybe his wallet. Or his virginity.” Babs blew a large balloon from her bubble gum. “Scootaloo is my cousin’s friend. Actually, she’s not gay. Her coltfriend is.” She giggled at her own joke. “Did I tell ya about my cousin? She’s–”

“Wait a minute,” Nightcap said, seeing that the stallion was approaching them. “Seems that ya were wrong, Babs…”

“Good evening,” the stallion said, smiling at them. “My name is Trenderhoof and I’m writing an article about, umm…”

“Whores?” Babs prompted. She immediately lost interest in him and began observing the street. She saw a bunch of young griffons walking down the sidewalk. All of them were wearing wide, leather jackets. Babs thought that they were perfect to hide something in them.

“I’d rather call it ‘Manehattan’s nightlife’,” Trenderhoof replied. “May I ask you some questions? I’ll pay…”

“Yes,” Nightcap replied quickly.

“No,” Babs muttered.

Trenderhoof ignored her and levitated a quill and a notebook. “Why are you, umm… working here?” he asked.

“I can’t get any other job,” Nightcap replied.

“It was either that or workin’ for a newspaper,” Babs deadpanned. “‘Sides, I’m a nympho and I love suckin’–”

“Nevermind,” Trenderhoof said. “What problems do you face in your life?”

“Lack of perspectives,” Nightcap replied. “Umm… shame. I… I can’t tell my family that…”

“Yeah, right…” Babs muttered. “I have no problems, except of ponies who ask too many questions and those griffons on the other side of the street.”

Trenderhoof ignored her. “Do you think that it’s far too easy to buy drugs in Manehattan?” he asked. Babs saw that the griffons stopped in front of some shop and began pointing at its window.

“Yes,” Nightcap replied.

“I’ve never had problems with gettin’ ‘em,” Babs said. She noticed a group of six ponies – three earth ponies, two unicorns and a pegasus – approaching the griffons. “If I were ya, Trendy, I’d get down. Like, now.”

The first shot pierced through the window of the shop, causing the alarm to go off. Trenderhoof ducked and quickly crawled behind the corner of the nearby building, followed by Babs and Nightcap. A rapid burst from a submachine gun tore the air, punctuated by the sound of a shotgun.

Babs curled into a fetal position and covered her ears. Another burst fired. She knew that sound well – a large stash of submachine guns – the small model, easy to conceal and able to empty a magazine of thirty 9mm bullets in two and half second – disappeared recently from the magazines of Manehattan Firearm Factory. Next to her, Trenderhoof was shuddering, his eyes clenched shut. Someone screamed; someone started calling some name.

The last shots fired and everything went quiet. Babs looked behind the corner and saw the bodies of two griffons and an earth pony lying on the pavement.

“Let’s get outta here,” Nightcap said. “The guards will be here soon.”

“Wait!” Trenderhoof exclaimed. “What the hay was that?”

Babs, who was already running away, stopped for a moment. “Manehattan’s nightlife,” she deadpanned.

It was already past midday when Babs woke up and trotted to the kitchen to get a breakfast. Her father was sitting at the table eating dinner and reading a newspaper.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “When did you come back at night?”

Babs scratched her head. “About… 3 AM, I think. I was at a party…”

Her father looked at her and shook his head. “You shouldn’t walk around the town at night,” he said and pointed at his newspaper. “There was another shootout. They say that the griffons are trying to get rid of the local mafia.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t go into bad neighbourhoods,” Babs said.

She thought about the brown unicorn in a suit who paid them for a drug delivery. Were it his ponies who shot the griffons?

Mafia wars weren’t new thing in Manehattan. When Babs was six, the della Morte family from Las Pegasus tried to take over the town. She remembered exactly the December day, just before Hearth’s Warming Eve, when she went shopping with her mother to the Neighponese district and they witnessed kirins, hired by the local don, shooting Tocco della Morte. She remembered her fascination with the body, lying in the red snow and her mother pulling her away. From what she heard, the griffons who’d recently appeared in Manehattan were friends with Tocco’s son, Bacio della Morte.

“I hope so,” Babs’ father said. Babs knew he wouldn’t forbid her to go out at night. The money she was bringing home was much more both of her parents could make. They finished eating in silence and Babs left home, telling him that she was going to visit a friend.

She trotted through the staircase trying not to listen to her neighbour arguing with his wife in the flat next to hers and the foals’ cries coming from upstairs. In such place, the less one knew about their neighbours the better.

She checked carefully if there were no griffons around and went down the pavement, lost in her thoughts. She saw a couple of guards standing in the corner of the street and watching the ponies passing by.

“Hey, you!” one of them called. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Babs replied. “And before ya ask, I ain’t have no gun or drugs with me.”

“Strange,” another guard said, looking at Babs curiously. “Looks like a pony but wears a griffon jacket.”

“I murdered the previous owner and dumped him in the river,” Babs muttered, glaring at him angrily. “Could ya please leave me alone?”

The guard blocked her way. “Listen, lady, I don’t know if you get the memo, but mafia often uses kids like you to–”

“Leave her,” another guard said. “I have a kid that age too… They’re all worse than foals.”

“Thank you,” Babs deadpanned and walked away, looking at the guards from time to time. She trotted to the underground station and took the train to the district where Nightcap lived. She knew that Nightcap was probably still sleeping and that she didn’t like when Babs woke her up, but she was bored.

Even though most of the ponies were at work, the carriage was full of them; usually they were fillies and colts around Babs’ age, standing in groups of five or six. Babs thought about a time where she led such a group herself and started to look carefully at them. Griffons rarely used public transport, so the probability of a brawl or shootout wasn’t big, unless the ponies were hoofball or pegasi racing fans. However, Babs wanted to keep a low profile – she wasn’t sure what “the big guy” thought about her change of hobby.

“Hey, filly,” one of the colts said, leaning closer to her. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Get lost,” Babs muttered. “Or ya’ll carry your balls to a hospital in a cardboard box…”

“See?” the colt said to his companions. “It’s her…”

Babs quickly put her hoof in her pocket, ready to pull out her knife. “It’s her” could, of course, mean “It’s my friend who does awesome things”, but in Manehattan it usually meant “It’s that bitch who robbed me/owes me money/beat the crap out of my friend” and so on. Babs tried to recall all the ponies she’d pissed off recently. It was a rather long list.

“Hedgehog wants to talk with you,” said the colt. “He says that it’s important.”

“Tell him to come to me himself,” Babs replied, “and that I’m not interested in workin’ with kids like Dove anymore.”

The colts looked at each other unsurely. All of them seemed to be around Dove’s age. Before they could reply, the train stopped and Babs left it without even looking at them.

The neighbourhood where Nightcap lived was even worse than Babs’. It consisted of a couple of blocks of flats which were quite modern at the time when they were built. They were supposed to be a completely self-sufficient estate for the ponies working in the potions factory nearby, with flats, shops, schools, and offices crowded together close to each other. Instead, the dark, narrow streets and bridges connecting the higher floors of the buildings with each other became an ideal environment for pathology – a growth medium where the bacteria causing all the Manehattan’s illnesses could grow freely.

Babs was just about to walk between two of the blocks, when she heard someone calling her name. She turned back and saw a familiar silhouette of an orange pegasus.

“Scootaloo!” she exclaimed. “What are ya doin’ here? Is Apple Bloom with ya?”

Scootaloo trotted to her with a smile on her face. She was wearing a colourful scarf and a pair of saddlebags. “No, she couldn’t come,” she said. “Rumble is starting in a pegasi race. I want to see him.”

Babs didn’t remember when she’d last been to such a race. She more or less remembered the rules – seven pegasi in each team; fifteen heats, four laps each; two pegasi from each team in every race. She also remembered the die-hard fans of Manehattan team.

“Take that off!” Babs exclaimed, pointing at Scootaloo’s scarf. She looked around, but luckily no one was there.

“What’s goin’ on?” Scootaloo asked.

“Have ya ever been here?” Babs asked. “On the stadium, surrounded by guards, ya can wear a scarf of your team. But if somepony saw ya wearin’ it here… They’d send ya back to Ponyville in a plastic bag. Possibly a couple of ‘em.”

Scootaloo took a scarf off and hid it in her saddlebags. “Yeah…” she muttered. “I’m kinda dumb… Anyway, what are you doing here? Are you gonna see the match too?”

“Maybe…” Babs replied. Nightcap could wait. She hadn’t seen Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle for ages. Besides, Scootaloo clearly needed someone to guide her through Manehattan – the stadium was in another district. They trotted back to the station and took a train.

“So, how’s Ponyville?” Babs asked. “I’ve heard that ya learned to fly…”

“Yeah…” Scootaloo replied. “But I’m still not fast enough to be in a team…”

Babs heard that according to the newest rules, each pegasi racing team had to have two juniors in the starting line-up. “So, Rumble is in a team, right?” she asked. “Who else?”

“Tornado Bolt,” Scootaloo said and gritted her teeth. “She’s maybe a second faster than me… There’s also Thunderlane, Cerulean Sky, Cloudchaser, Flitter, and Parasol.”

Babs nodded her head. She didn’t really know who was in the Manehattan team. “How’s Apple Bloom?” she asked.

“Better,” Scootaloo replied. “She doesn’t have so many headaches anymore…”

“Good,” Babs muttered. She remembered well the headaches Apple Bloom had after she’d nearly been killed by Diamond Tiara.

“Yeah… Though I think she’s a bit down…” Scootaloo said. “You know, it seems that some ponies are pissed at her…”

“Why?” Babs asked.

“Because she survived and their kids didn’t…” Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “I know, it’s fucked up… This town didn’t really get back to normal after that…”

Welcome to my world, Babs thought. In Manehattan, we have a dozen of Diamond Tiaras a week…

“I’m getting sick of it,” Scootaloo said. “Once I’m eighteen, I’ll go to Canterlot to become a guard.”

“What?” Babs exclaimed. “You and the guards?”

“Well, at first I thought about the army, but chasing changelings in the middle of the desert or fighting dragons in Stalliongrad isn’t for me,” Scootaloo replied.

Babs shook her head. The only kind of ponies she hated more than the mafia were the guards. She knew that she wouldn’t survive a day in prison – she was too used to freedom and the very thought of being locked in a cage was unbearable for her. “Sorry, Scoots, but ya just don’t look like a guard to me…”

“Why?” Scootaloo chuckled. “I’d be good in pursuits…” She pointed at her cutie mark – a burning scooter wheel. Even though she outgrew her scooter long ago, it seemed that her special talent was somehow connected with anything that had wheels.

Babs sighed. She knew that she and Sweetie Belle were the only remaining blank flanks, but it always hurt her when she was reminded of that. Then she imagined herself, chased by someone like Scootaloo and shuddered.

“By the way,” Scootaloo said. “Sweetie got her cutie mark recently…”

Babs’ head drooped. Scootaloo was talking about Sweetie winning a singing contest, but she didn’t listen. She wanted to scream or break something.

There were many things she was good at. Fighting, throwing knives, stealing money, cheating, running away… Apparently none of these things was worthy of being her special talent.

The train stopped. They got out of it and saw that the whole station was crowded with pegasi racing fans. Babs wanted to guide Scootaloo through them, but saw that she just took off and flew above their heads.

“Oh, sorry!” Scootaloo exclaimed, seeing that Babs was stuck in a crowd. “I’ll wait for you…”

“No problem, really…” Babs muttered. She “accidentally” smacked a foal who was trying to pickpocket her and pushed herself through the ponies, trying to catch up with Scootaloo. She managed to get to the stairs and climbed to the street. The stadium was not far away – the rows of seats, bleached by the sun, were surrounding an oval track with bands made of clouds – in case a racer rammed into them.

Babs noticed that although the crowd seemed large, it wasn’t enough to fill the whole stadium. That kind of racing wasn’t as popular in Manehattan as, for example, hoofball. Most of the fans recruited from working class – Babs’ father really liked it, though since he’d lost his leg, he didn’t go to the matches anymore. Unlike other kinds of pegasi racing, it was more about good start and an ability to take sharp turns, rather than speed and stamina. In each race, four pegasi, two from each team, were racing against each other. The first one to complete four laps would get three points for their team, the second would get two points and the third – one point.

After some time spent in the queue, they managed to buy the tickets and sat in the front row. Babs bought a cider for them and they watched the presentation of the teams.

“So, this is Tornado Bolt?” Babs asked, pointing at the grey filly with violet mane and tornado cutie mark.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo replied. “She might be a second faster, but Rumble asked me out…”

“Good for you…” Babs chuckled, eyeing the grey colt trotting next to his brother. She knew Rumble from her rare visits in Ponyville and he always seemed a bit off to her. For a colt, he cared a bit too much about his appearance. Then Babs remembered Hedgehog and thought that maybe it wasn’t such a big flaw.

The presentation was over and the first two pairs of pegasi stood on the start line.

“Juniors from both teams take part in the first race,” Scootaloo said, watching Rumble and Tornado Bolt preparing to the race. “Though they want to change that…”

“Yeah…” Babs muttered. She saw that she was sitting among ponies from Ponyville and decided that it was better to forget that she was technically supposed to support two racers from Manehattan, Tiger Moth and Skiddle. “Kids may shit themselves when they start the match… In which races he starts?”

“One, seven and twelve,” Scootaloo replied. “And, if he’s good enough, maybe he’ll be in the race fourteen or fifteen.”

Babs nodded. She didn’t remember the rules exactly, but she’d heard that the line-up of the last two races depended of the decision of the coaches rather than the schedule.

They heard the signal to start and the four pegasi took off. Babs smirked when she saw that Tiger Moth, a blue pegasus with a short blonde mane, managed to start faster than Rumble and was the leader after the first corner. Rumble was flying right behind him, followed by Tornado Bolt. It could be, however, seen that she had problems – the second racer from Manehattan, Skiddle, was flapping her wings really fast and tried to use any opportunity to take over. Finally, at the second turn of the third lap, Tornado Bolt made a mistake – she flew a bit too wide and nearly smeared the cloud. Skiddle let out a scream heard even in the nosebleed seats and flew past the corner at a neck-breaking pace. Nothing changed during the final lap – the results after the first race were 4:2 for Manehattan.

“Not bad…” Scootaloo muttered, watching Rumble who landed next to the rest of the team. Thunderlane patted his head. Tornado Bolt sat on the grass and shook her head. Cloudchaser immediately trotted to console her.

“Bet ya could do better, huh?” Babs asked. She could barely hear anything through the cheering crowd.

“Of course…” Scootaloo chuckled, watching the preparations to the next heat in which Thunderlane and Cloudchaser were going to race against two idols of the local fans, Jet and Flash Forward. “I don’t crash against anything when I fly…”

It quickly turned out that it was a good idea to make the track boundaries out of clouds. In the second race, Flash Forward crashed into one after trying to overtake Cloudchaser. Jet finished that heat second and after two races each of the teams had six points. In the third race, however, Manehattan team took the lead after Storm Runner and Wind Breaker gave no chance to Flitter and Cerulean Sky.

In the fourth race, Tornado Bolt partially redeemed herself – she was second, defeated only by Airwave from Manehattan. In the same race, Parasol managed to win overtake Skiddle on the first turn, and it ended in a 3:3 draw.

“I’d win that…” Scootaloo said, taking a large sip of her cider. “Airwave keeps making the same mistake while turning.”

“Can ya explain that to me?” Babs asked. Her mind was conflicted: she wanted to buy herself a second cider, but she knew that she’d have to go to the toilet after drinking it. The toilets in the stadium weren’t very welcoming.

“Well, he makes such a move and loses speed on the apex of the turn…” Scootaloo flapped her wings, demonstrating Airwave’s mistake.

“Yeah, right…” Babs muttered and looked at her programme. “This race will be interesting… Thunderlane and Cloudchaser against Storm Runner and Wind Breaker…”

“Wind Breaker also makes that mistake,” Scootaloo said. “Maybe it’s the coach’s fault…”

“Hey, she was far better than Flitter…” Babs said.

“Meh, Flitter was just unluckly. If Storm Runner didn’t block her…”

After the race, Babs stopped doubting in Scootaloo’s ability to assess the form of the racers – Wind Breaker came last. Storm Runner, however, saved the Manehattan team from the complete defeat and after five races the hosts led by two points.

The crowds cheering was growing louder. Some ponies from Ponyville began chanting, trying to silence the fans from Manehattan. They answered with even louder chanting. Babs noticed the guards walking around the bleachers and started to think what would happen if Ponyville team won. Definitely, they’d better be somewhere else then.

The fifth race was won by Flitter. Unfortunately, Cerulean Sky came last, so the race ended in a draw.

“I told you she’s in good form,” Scootaloo said, watching Flitter making a somersault in the air before going back to the team.

“Yeah, because Airwave and Skiddle are so great opponents…” Babs muttered, but Scootaloo didn’t listen to her. She stood up and rested her hooves against the fence, watching the preparations to the next race, in which Rumble and Parasol were facing Jet and Flash Forward.

The race started. The crowd went silent when Rumble slid under Jet’s wing, taking advantage of his smaller frame. The Manehattan pegasus, surprised by the junior’s audacity, made a mistake and accidentally blocked Flash Forward, who nearly crashed into him. It lasted maybe a split second, but it was enough for Parasol to overtake them both and fly behind Rumble.

Her bigger wings were an advantage and after two laps, she also managed to overtake Rumble – in fact, he let her do it, as he was getting tired and he’d only slow her down. Jet and Flash Forward were too far to get to him, so it didn’t matter who’d be first – such result meant five points for Ponyville.

The Manehattan crowd started to scream and whistle when Flash Forward landed and kicked the dirt on the stadium. It was halfway through the match, the Ponyville team was winning by two points and Flash Forward was the only pegasus who didn’t score even a single point yet.

It wasn’t, however, the end of the home team problems. In the next race, Thunderlane and Cloudchaser easily won with Airwave (who, according to Scootaloo, still had a problem, though Babs couldn’t see it) and junior Tiger Moth. In heat number 9, Flash Forward finally redeemed himself and defeated Flitter.

“I’m afraid about Tornado Bolt…” Scootaloo muttered, watching the filly as she stood in line with Parasol, Storm Runner and Wind Breaker. “She doesn’t seem to feel good on those turns…”

“Still, she has more points than Cerulean Sky…” Babs replied. “Look, her start seems okay… Fuck!”

Tornado Bolt was leading the race only to the first corner. When she tried to turn, her wing suddenly twisted and she crashed into the barrier. The race was stopped. Tornado Bolt crawled out of the cloud and trotted back to the line, but it was obvious that something was wrong with her wing. She managed, however, to complete her final race. Struggling with pain, she came last, after Parasol, Storm Runner and Wind Breaker.

“She wasn’t lucky today,” Scootaloo concluded. “I need to go to Sugarcube Corner with her when we’re back…”

“I thought ya two don’t like each other…” Babs chuckled.

“Don’t forget about the team spirit,” Scootaloo replied. “It’s like with Cutie Mark Crusaders…”

Babs froze. She thought about the Crusaders – both the ones from Ponyville and those from Manehattan. When had she seen them for the last time? Not counting the encounter from the last night, it was a few weeks ago. She thought about Cracker – he’d gone to jail to protect her and she’d just left him. Sure, he was a psychopath, but still…

She barely remembered the next run and only Scootaloo’s excited screams told her that Flitter and Cloudchaser managed to defeat Airwave and Flash Forward. She wanted to have a drink and go home, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what the colt on a train had told her. Hedgehog wanted to see her. She didn’t know why, but apparently it was important.

Race number 12 was Rumble’s last – and the only one where he was flying alongside his brother. Babs stood next to Scootaloo, but she didn’t have high hopes – Manehattan was losing 36:30 and even though Storm Runner was so far the best of the home team pegasi, it was hard to imagine that Tiger Moth would suddenly defeat Thunderlane, allowing them to catch up. Scootaloo began to cheer wildly – Rumble managed to take revenge on Tiger Moth for the first race and eventually was third, after Storm Runner and Thunderlane. Still, it meant that the results now were 39 to 33 and there were only three races to the end.

“We’d better go,” Babs muttered to Scootaloo. “It may end in a brawl…”

“No way!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “I need to see Rumble…”

“You’ll see him later…” Babs said, looking around. The crowd was shouting angrily, but she didn’t know at who exactly – match officials, their team, opposing team, or maybe at each other. The guards were surrounding them. For the first time in ages, Babs felt good seeing them.

Surprisingly, Cerulean Sky won the last of the scheduled races. Jet was second and Parasol was third, leaving poor Airwave in the dust. Now, the coaches were going to choose the pegasi flying in the last two races. Thunderlane and Cloudchaser stood on the start line – each of them scored 9 points so far. Storm Runner stood between them – he had ten points, but Jet, who was his partner for this race, had only six.

“They’re gonna skin us…” Babs muttered, watching the angry fans. It seemed that even Storm Runner was a target of their abuse. Babs thought that it could be a distraction that caused him to start a bit too late, letting Thunderlane win. After the race was finished, she sat on her seat and shook her head.

“It’s over…” she said. “We won’t get ten points in the last race…”

“Oh, come on…” Scootaloo sat next to her. “At least Ponyville won…”

“Well, I don’t care…” Babs said and pointed at the crowd which was now trying to get past the guards. The fans from Ponyville were shouting at them. “...but those guys certainly do…”

The last race finished with Flash Forward’s victory, making the final result 49:41 for Ponyville, but barely anyone saw that. Babs led Scootaloo through the sectors, avoiding empty bottles and cups thrown at them. She felt her mane tingling when the guards started to fire spells in order to stop the charging fans. They quickly trotted downstairs, heading to the changing room.

Rumble was already waiting for them. “Hi, Scoots” he said and kissed Scootaloo’s cheek before turning to Babs. “Who are you?”

“You don’t remember?” Scootaloo asked. “It’s Apple Bloom’s cousin, Babs.”

“Oh, yeah…” Rumble chuckled. “You called me a faggot once…”

“Twice,” Babs replied. “We’d better get outta here…”

“Yeah…” Rumble said and pointed at the ceiling. “What’s going on there?”

“Ya pissed off some ponies…” Babs said. “Don’t worry, I know how to get to the underground before they reach it…”

They trotted out of the stadium, followed by the rest of the team. Tornado Bolt was walking slowly behind them, before Scootaloo told her to join them.

Babs quickly started to regret that she took them with her. They managed to ride to the railway station before the fans started to demolish the whole town, but she just couldn’t listen to Scootaloo reminding everyone endlessly that Rumble, despite being sixteen, scored two points more than much more experienced Wind Breaker. She could easily understand Tornado Bolt who was still silent, with her head hanging low.

“I’ll bring ya some cider,” Babs said. “The train to Ponyville should be here soon…”

“I can’t drink, I’m underaged,” Rumble said. “Also, I’m a sportspony…”

“Faggot,” Babs muttered through gritted teeth and lit up a cigarette. Then she went to the nearby shop to buy cider for herself, Scootaloo and Tornado Bolt. Especially the grey filly looked like she needed some.

When she was trotting down the pavement, she suddenly spotted a familiar, red spiked mane in the crowd of ponies.

“Hedgehog!” she exclaimed. “What are ya doin’ here? Some little shit told me that ya were lookin’ for me…”

Hedgehog definitely wasn’t sober – he was staggering slightly and his mane was in an even bigger mess than usual. He blinked, probably trying to recall who Babs was.

“It’s me,” Babs muttered. “What the hell ya want?”

She could almost hear something clicking in his head. “It’s Dove,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. “The griffons kidnapped her…”

Author's Notes:

The readers from Great Britain, Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Poland, or Australia may know what sport the pegasi racing in this chapter is based on. Also, for the people who like stats, I made a table (actually I made it to not get lost in it).