The carriage drove through the streets of Fillydelphia, the sun glistening off the polish. Every other vehicle, both motorized and hoofdrawn, gave the vehicle a wide berth; pedestrians averted their eyes.

“I don’t get it. How does a jerk like Blueblood get to run a city like this?” Spike asked as they passed a large park.

“He was actually elected,” Twilight explained. “I read about it in one of the history books about the city that I was reading. The city of Fillydelphia is run by a democratically elected leader, who is aided by a city council.”

“So where does the Duke title come from?” Spike asked.

“From his family line,” Twilight continued. “It doesn’t mean anything anymore, but noble titles such as that add respect.”

“It’s not supposed to mean anything anymore,” Flash stated, his hoof still lingering on his sword. “But both it, and the money that comes with, count for more than they should.”

“Too right,” Phillip agreed.

The group fell into silence once more, the carriage humming beneath their seats. Before long, they had left behind the slums and were moving into the westernmost districts of the city. This place might be believed to be a different city entirely than the one they had left behind: the brick streets were clean, the expensive-looking shops were pristinely maintained, and the ponies in their immaculate suits and dresses nodded to the carriage as they passed. This was the realm of the rich, separated physically and mentally from the lower classes.

As they passed one corner, Spike noticed a tall metal pole standing on a street corner. Atop the metal pole was a white rectangular box with a dark blue crystal inside. The box slowly swiveled back and forth on its axis, tracking their vehicle as it passed. Beneath the box was a sign that read “FOR YOUR OWN PROTECTION.”

“What’s that thing?” he asked.

“A surveillance crystal,” Twilight explained. “It carries a special enhancement that allows another pony to look through the crystal with the aid of a paired crystal.”

“The City Guard’s probably using these to spy on the citizens,” Flash stated.

“And on us,” Phillip added, glaring up at the surveillance crystal as they passed by.

After a few minutes, the carriage turned and parked in front of a large mansion, placed in the center of the district, as if to ensure that the rest of the district revolved around it. High brick walls, painted pale blue, surrounded the building, and an iron gate barred entry. Two City Guards stood sentinel on either side of the gate, which was topped by a pair of surveillance crystals. One of them approached the carriage.

“We are escorting Princess Sparkle to see Duke Blueblood,” the driver told him.

“Send her in, as well as her guard,” the other Guard told them. “Not those two, though,” he added, nodding to Phillip and Spike.

“But—” Spike started to protest.

“It’s all right, Spike,” Twilight reassured him, putting a hoof on his shoulder. “We’ll be right back.” She and Flash exited the carriage and followed two of the Guards through the iron gate, which swung open and shut with a loud clanging. Two of the other City Guards remained standing sentinel on either side.

Spike grumbled to himself, walking down the street and morosely kicking a stray can down the sidewalk. He sat down on the sidewalk, leaning against the wall. “Now what?”

“Now we wait,” Phillip said, sitting down next to him. A pair of unicorn stallions, both of them clothed in Arponi suits, passed by. Both of them turned up their noses, refusing to grant either of them so much as a glance. Phillip glowered at them both.

Glancing around in search of something to use to pass the time, Spike’s eyes settled upon a small pile of cardboard sheets and some discarded charcoal sitting on the ground next to a trash can. He picked up the cardboard sheets and gathered up some of the blackened rocks. Selecting one, he bit off a chunk so that he was left with a crayon-shaped rock. Plopping back down on the sidewalk, he began to sketch the street with the charcoal, thoughtfully chewing on the leftovers as he drew.

“You’re getting good,” Phillip complimented him, watching as the dark replica came to life, conjured by Spike’s drawing skills.

“Thanks,” Spike said, beginning to add details to the storefront across the street from them.

“Whoa,” a voice suddenly called. Looking up, Phillip and Spike saw a young stallion standing a few feet away from them. He was a lanky, well-built pegasus with a muddy yellow coat and a mussy sandy brown mane and tail. His cutie mark was a crossed shovel and hammer, and he was wearing a loose jacket to protect him from the chill wind. His pale blue eyes were focused on Spike with an expression of great curiosity.

“Are you a real dragon?” he asked in a timid voice.

“Yup,” Spike nodded with a smile. “It’s all right, though, I won’t eat you.”

“Cool!” the stallion said, approaching with a smile. “I’ve never seen a dragon up close!”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Spike grinned, flexing his arm. Phillip chuckled quietly.

“Neat,” the stallion nodded. “I’m Backhoe. I work at a construction company around here.”

“Spike,” Spike introduced himself, holding out a claw to shake. “And this is Phillip Finder.”

Backhoe’s eyes darted to Phillip, a look of nervousness briefly flickering across his face. Phillip stared coolly back. “Nice to meet you. Hey...aren’t you that dragon that works with Princess Twilight?”

“Yup,” Spike nodded proudly.

“Is she here too?” Backhoe asked.

“Yeah, she—”

“Hey, you!” a City Guard’s bark interrupted Spike. Two City Guards stormed up the sidewalk, their visored gazes on Backhoe. Backhoe cringed, his head hanging.

“What’re you doing around here?” one of the Guards, a bulky black earth pony snarled into Backhoe’s ear.

“Nothing, sir…”

“That’s right, nothing,” the other Guard, a broad-shouldered green unicorn sneered. “You’re always up to nothing, right?”

“Leave him alone!” Spike protested.

“Stay out of this,” the earth pony scolded Spike.

Phillip rose, half reaching for his baton. “Are we going to have a problem, mates?” he dared.

The Guards looked at him, and immediately decided that it wasn’t worth it. “You keep your nose clean, Hoe,” the unicorn warned Backhoe as they trotted off. “We’ll be watching you.”

Backhoe glowered at both of the Guards before sighing and sitting down on the sidewalk morosely. “What was that all about?” Spike asked.

“Er…” Backhoe’s eyes flickered up to Phil, staring at him with hesitation for several seconds. He let out a slow sigh. “No point in lying. I...I was recently released from prison.”

“What was it for?” Phillip asked.

“Drug dealing,” Backhoe replied after a moment. Phillip’s eyes narrowed and Backhoe flinched. “Look, I needed the money and there weren’t many other jobs! Back then, I was working a dirt poor job, and my marefriend was pregnant.”

“You shouldn’t have—” Phillip started to say.

“I know!” Backhoe burst out. “I made a stupid decision, and I paid for it. For seven years! My little filly had to grow up without me.” He reached into his jacket and, after fumbling with a pack of Neighport cigarettes, pulled out a small picture that he showed to Spike. The picture displayed a smiling sunny yellow pegasus with wavy blue hair and bright green eyes. She was wearing a pale blue dress that was cut short enough to display her cutie mark: a paintbrush and a smiley face.

“Her name’s Canvas Glow. That was taken at her cuteceñera five months ago, right before I got out,” he stated, a tone of sadness escaping through his smile.

“I’ve been doing better,” he continued as he put the photograph back. “I stayed off the drugs while I was in, and I don’t get into trouble. Finding this job I have was hard—nopony wants to hire an ex-convict like me, you know? But it pays well enough, and they were willing to give me a chance when nopony else was.” He looked up and glared at the retreating Guards, who were standing on the corner some distance away. “But they still won’t leave me alone! I’ve been harassed, called names, shoved, spat at…” Backhoe sighed in disgust. “I did my time, I learned my lesson. I’m trying to stay on the straight and narrow, and I still get treated like dirt.”

“That’s not fair,” Spike observed. “They should be trying to help, not bullying you.”

“Exactly,” Backhoe hissed. He looked around the street, observing the ponies walking past. Not a single one acted like the trio was there.

“I want my kid to live a good life,” he said. “To grow up happy, to have all the things she needs. And I can’t get that if ponies won’t give me a second chance.” He looked up at Spike. “Everypony deserves that, right?”

“If they know they made a mistake and are willing to fix it, sure,” Spike said, turning to Phillip. “Right?”

Phillip looked at Spike, then at Backhoe, his expression unreadable. Backhoe looked up nervously at him. Slowly, Phillip’s expression softened slightly and he nodded. “Yes. Everypony does.”

Backhoe visibly relaxed at the words. “You know what? You two are all right.”

“You’re all right, too,” Phillip agreed, with a small smile.

The three sat in companionable silence, with Backhoe occasionally making a comment or asking a question. Spike continued to doodle with his charcoal, and the world passed by, content to leave them be for a while.

Meanwhile, Flash and Twilight were being escorted through a series of grand rooms, each of them tastefully but expensively decorated in fine art and gilded furniture. The City Guards gestured them into a waiting room with two blue and gold couches, a table with a tray of small hors d'oeuvres, and a large framed map of Fillydelphia on the wall. “Duke Blueblood will see you shortly,” one of them declared, giving them a brief nod before exiting with his partner, closing the large doors behind him.

Twilight began to study the map on the wall. Flash walked in a slow circle around the room, checking everything twice, his hoof remaining at his scabbard.

“What do you think he wants with us?” he asked Twilight, taking a small chocolate-coated strawberry for himself and popping it into his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Twilight admitted, still studying the map. “I imagine he probably wants me to do something for him. It would help his image if a Princess voiced approval of how he was doing things.”

“Politicians!” Flash sighed, rolling his eyes towards the chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

“Flash, don’t judge a book by its cover,” Twilight admonished him. “Just because Blueblood is snooty and stuck-up and selfish and obnoxious and…” She trailed off, apparently realizing her own words. “Whatever your opinion of him, we are guests in his house. Remember that.”

“Fine,” Flash grunted.

At that moment, the doors opposite them opened. A unicorn mare adorned in the armor of a City Guard clomped through. She had a shining emerald green coat and short blonde hair. Her stern green eyes examined Flash and Twilight briefly. Flash’s eyes quickly spotted the three chevrons and three bars on her collar and he immediately snapped to attention, saluting.

The mare returned the salute crisply. “I am Master Sergeant Quarter Deck, head of Duke Blueblood’s personal security unit. Please follow me.” She turned on her heels and trotted down the hallway, with Twilight and Flash following. Pausing at a door, Quarter Deck knocked briskly.

“Come in!” came a voice on the other end. Quarter Deck opened the door and gestured her guests inside, her face the picture perfect form of stoicism. Twilight and Flash entered the room, and the door closed behind them.

The walls of the small office room were painted in such pure white that it almost hurt the eyes to look at them. Sunshine yellow carpeting covered the floor. On the wall opposite them was a large portrait of Duke Blueblood, flashing a confident smile at the viewer. The Duke himself was sitting on a large cushion behind a large oak desk, the top of which was covered in stacks of papers, trays of pencils, a lamp and a golden telephone. He nodded politely as they entered, brushing a bit of lint off his prim blue suit. “Your Highness. Sergeant. Please take a seat.” Using his magic, he pulled two royal purple cushions out from behind him and set them down before the desk. Twilight and Flash sat down upon them.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice,” Blueblood said, keeping his eyes steadily on Twilight.

“Your Guards didn’t give us much of a chance to disagree,” Flash pointed out. Blueblood ignored him.

“I’m pleased by your hospitality, sir,” Twilight said, plucking her phrases carefully, mindful of the social games and political dances required to curry favor amongst the social elite. “Why did you want to meet with me?”

“I wanted to give you a warning,” Blueblood stated plainly. “This city is not a safe place, especially not for a young Princess such as yourself. Do you know how high the crime rates are?”

“The highest in the nation, especially in the areas of drug-related crimes,” Twilight recited. “The reported rates last year was 65.37 drug crimes per one thousand ponies and and 43.97 violent crimes.”

Blueblood blinked slowly. “Er...right. The point stands, that is far too many. While you are in this city, I cannot guarantee your safety. Even the City Guards cannot guarantee your safety. Are you aware that in the past three weeks alone, nine of my City Guards were killed on active duty?”

“So if it’s not safe, why are you staying?” Flash cut in.

“Flash…” Twilight hissed warningly.

Blueblood turned to Flash for the first time, tilting his nose up to look down at him. “Simple. This is my hometown.” He paused, noting the brief look of surprise flickering on Flash’s face. “Surprised to learn that I grew up in this city? I may have had the good fortune to grow up in different circumstances than you, but this is my home as well.” He turned back to Twilight. “Again, I repeat; this city is not safe and it is not kind to outsiders. I am aware of your reason for coming here, and while I agree that your intentions are noble, they are liable to get you killed, and I do not want your death on my conscience.”

“Or on your public image,” Flash muttered. “Ow!” he added a moment later when Twilight gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with her magic.

“We appreciate your concern, Blueblood,” Twilight said pleasantly. “However, we’re not scared of these criminals. And we cannot leave yet; we may have uncovered a lead that could help you significantly reduce crime and corruption in this city.”

Blueblood’s ears perked up slightly. “And what is this lead?”

“We—” Twilight started to say.

“We can’t tell you,” Flash interrupted. He gave Twilight a meaningful look and shook his head slightly. She glared back at him for a moment, but silently conceded.

Blueblood sighed. “If you are not willing to cooperate with me or listen to my warnings, then, unfortunately, we have nothing more to do here.” He turned back to the papers on his desk. “I need to get back to this, and you need to go home and be safe.”

“We will be safe, but we’re not going home until we finish this,” Twilight responded, standing up. “Thank you for your time.” She stood up and turned towards the door. “Come, Sergeant.”

But Flash didn’t move. Instead he gave Blueblood a long look, then spoke. “And what exactly have you done to help this city?”

Blueblood looked up. “Excuse me?” he asked in a sharp tone.

“In case you haven’t noticed, things aren’t exactly coming up roses out there,” Flash said, standing. “You know, out there, outside this mansion of yours.”

“I am aware of that, Sergeant,” Blueblood replied, also rising. “I served on the city board for twelve years before I was elected as the head of this city. Are you aware that after I took office, crime rates dropped significantly due to my reforms?”

“And what then?” Flash responded, glaring right back at Blueblood despite being shorter by almost a full head. “Crime is still everywhere, you’ve turned the City Guard into an occupying army full of crooks, and there are families starving on the streets!”

“Flash, that’s enough!” Twilight snapped, grabbing his foreleg. Flash firmly pulled himself out of her grip.

“And you don’t care at all, do you?!” he shouted. “As long as you’ve got some figures for your image, you’re happy!”

“Enough!” Blueblood barked. “I will not be spoken to like this in my own home!” He glared at both ponies. “As bad as it is right now, when I first took the office seven years ago, it was even worse. Our ponies—my ponies, my neighbors, my responsibility—were starving and afraid. Something had to be done; desperate measures had to be taken, and I took them.”

“Dad?” a small voice suddenly spoke from the door. Turning, everypony saw a small unicorn colt timidly standing at the doorway. He had a cloud white coat, sapphire eyes, and a trimmed pale silver mane and tail. He was wearing a simple light blue suit jacket and a bow tie. No cutie marks adorned his flanks.

“What is it, Pelorus?” Blueblood asked, his demeanor instantly changing; he smiled brightly at the youngling, his periwinkle eyes twinkling with pride.

The little colt glanced uncertainly at a unicorn mare wearing a pearl dress standing behind him. She had an indigo coat and long white and blue hair with a luxurious tail. She smiled kindly at the little colt, her pale brown eyes glimmering with kindness.

“Go on, dear,” the mare said in a soft voice, nudging the colt forward. Flash and Twilight both noted her cutie mark: a bright white eight-pointed star. The youngling walked quickly to Blueblood, casting a shy glance around at Flash and Twilight.

“Mom wanted me to tell you,” the colt said to Blueblood. “I...I accidentally broke your vase. The one with the picture of the pine trees?”

Blueblood frowned. “Why did you break it?”

“Because I was running around the house, and bumped into it, and it fell over,” the colt mumbled, staring down at the carpet instead of at his father’s face.

“And did I tell you that running down the hallways was wrong?” Blueblood asked, his voice firm but not angry.

“Yes, dad,” Pelorus replied.

“And now you know why,” Blueblood stated. After frowning down at his son for a moment longer, he smiled and patted his head gently. “There, there, it’s not that bad. It’s just a vase, after all.”

“So you forgive me?” Pelorus asked, looking up with a glimmer of hope on his face.

“Of course, son,” Blueblood said with a smile. “Now, why don’t you go play with your mother? I’ll be along in just a moment.”

“Okay!” Pelorus declared, dashing out of the room and down the hallway. His mother chuckled quietly and started after him.

“Canopus,” Blueblood called. His wife stopped and turned towards him. “Is he keeping up with his lessons?”

“Yes, dear,” Canopus replied. “He’s doing extraordinarily well in every subject.”

“Wonderful,” Blueblood nodded. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m finished with this paperwork and with our guests.”

Canopus examined the surprised faces of Twilight and Flash with a brief frown. “Of course, love.” With that, she turned and walked away, her horseshoes clicking with every step. Blueblood used his magic to close the door to his office, his face falling into more serious lines once more.

“I do not care what you think of me,” he stated to both his guests, his voice of measured calm. “You could not imagine for a moment what it means for me to be the leader of this city. I grew up here, and I know it can be great again. But we will all have to work hard and make sacrifices for it. And the first step is to ensure that the criminals are put in their place and punished for their deeds.”

“But that’s not enough,” Twilight started to say, preemptively cutting Flash off. “You have to try to prevent the criminals from being able to—”

“Enough,” Blueblood interrupted, holding up his hoof. “There is nothing more for us to discuss here.” He pressed a buzzer set on the wall next to him. “Sergeant Deck will escort you out.”

On cue, Quarter Deck appeared at the doorway and nodded to Flash and Twilight. As they stood up to leave, Blueblood set himself down behind his desk once more.

“I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said as they exited. Flash replied with a short glare before following Twilight out of the office. The door closed behind them with a heavy slam as they were led to the foyer.

After passing through a number of hallways, Quarter Deck glanced around to make sure that they were alone, then began to speak without turning to face her charges. “I may not agree with everything the Duke says, but he’s right. You’re not safe here. At all. It’ll only be matter of time before one of you gets hurt.”

“We’re here for the same reason you are,” Flash replied. “Duty.”

Quarter Deck didn’t reply for a moment. “I can respect that. I can’t respect somepony stupid enough to not know when to quit.” They reached the front doors of the mansion, which she held open for them. “Good luck out there.”

“You too,” Twilight said as they exited. The two walked back to the gate, which swung open to let them leave. Two City Guards were waiting to escort them back to their carriage.

“Where shall we take you, Your Highness?” one of them asked.

“The same place you found us, please,” Twilight said. “Where’s Spike and Phillip?”

“Over there,” Flash said, pointing down the street. Spike and Phillip were still sitting on the curb, talking to Backhoe. Spike looked up and saw his friends waiting for him.

“Sorry, we’ve got to go,” he said, getting to his feet. “It was nice meeting you!”

“You, too,” Backhoe smiled, shaking hooves with Phillip.

“Take care of yourself,” Phillip nodded to him, touching the brim of his trilby in salute before following Spike.

“Who’s your friend?” Twilight asked Spike.

“His name’s Backhoe,” Spike said.

“He’s just a nopony,” one of the Guards, a young pale blue earth pony grunted, glaring at Backhoe, who continued to stand at the curb.

“Bugger off,” Phil said firmly. “Give him a fair go. He’s got a filly that he cares for.”

“He doesn’t deserve another chance,” the burly green pegasus sergeant replied, continuing to glare at Backhoe.

“Who are you to judge?” Spike snapped. “You don’t—”

At that moment, Backhoe looked up at the arguing group, his face curious. Slowly, he reached inside his jacket pocket.

“He’s reaching!” the sergeant shouted. Both he and his partner stepped back, their hooves flying to their holsters.

“No! No! Don’t!” Twilight and Spike both screamed. Flash and Phil both instinctively grabbed their charges and dived to the side as fire and brimstone flew from the Guard’s revolvers, each thunderclap echoing horribly. Backhoe jerked with every impact; the blood that flew from the bullet holes that pierced his body stained the white of the sidewalk. Finally, with a groan, he fell back, his limbs sprawling. The cigarette pack that he had been reaching for fell next to him.

The two Guards slowly lowered their weapons, realization dawning upon them. “Oh, God,” the private whispered.

The ponies stared in shock at the scene, every eye turned upon the corpse lying upon its back, staring up as if trying to admire the blue sky one last time. Spike slowly staggered up and walked over to Backhoe. Reaching inside his coat, he pulled out the photograph of the little filly. Canvas Glow smiled up at him innocently, not knowing that her father was never coming home again.

“Why did you do that?!” he shouted, whirling around to face the Guards. “Why?!”

“I...I…” the private stammered. Tears were leaking out from beneath his visor, running down his cheeks.

Spike knelt next to the corpse of his friend, shaking as quiet sobs took him. Twilight went to his side and hugged his little body to her chest, trying to give him some measure of comfort. Phillip and Flash looked at each other, then up at the surveillance crystal staring pitilessly down at them all as the sound of approaching sirens pierced the air.

Author's Notes:

I know I'm going to catch flak for this, so let me try to explain myself.

Police violence is a serious topic; as a Criminal Justice major, I know that better than most. And I'm certainly not putting it into this story for shock value or to mock the victims of police brutality and violence. It's because this story is meant to reflect the world that we live in.

And as in the real world, no problem can be solved by ignoring it. Acknowledging the problem, and confronting it with open minds and open hearts, is the only solution; indeed, it is the only way that anything gets done.

So if I have negatively affected any of my readers, I am truly sorry; I never intended to shock or hurt you. I only meant to tell a story.

But I promise you this; as in the real world, this will get better eventually.