Spike watched the dawn-kissed horizon from his balcony, feeling more than weary. A small grin split his lips as he exhaled a small green flame (another positive side effect from his time being trapped in Micro Chips’ video game). He longed to return to his bed and sleep, but remembered the beautiful women who waited there for him. Not only were they beautiful, but spirited too. Spike liked that in a woman. He recalled most of his past girlfriends being too easy, too eager to come to his bed, to please him. Most men, he knew, would have killed for the chance to bed willing women, but Spike was different than most men. More than anything, he appreciated a challenge, and his harem never disappointed him. On this particular morning, he breathed deeply as he admired the tapestry of colors in his bed as the sun rose, mesmerized by the image of almost two dozen women in his boudoir, their hair fanning his pillows.

They had returned to his suite after watching the Dazzlings perform their newest song, “Find the Magic”, in the Midnight Lounge the night before, and once again, Spike found himself hypnotized by their beauty. As he sat in the audience, front and center, he couldn’t help but smile at how happy the trio looked as they sang. He loved their new outfits: everything from Aria’s tight pants to the spikes on Adagio’s leather jacket and thigh-high boots. He even got a good chuckle from the designs on Sonata’s dress, which looked like tacos. But the cherries on that sundae were the ruby necklaces they held in their hands throughout their performance. Spike had given them to the Dazzlings in their dressing room before they went onstage. And after giving him a tearful, thankful group hug, they gave it their all, leaving the audience breathless from their angelic crooning.

As the Dazzlings rode the elevator up that night, they thought of just how lucky they were to know Spike. They’d had a few boyfriends that gave them baubles and all sorts of trinkets, but gifts didn’t keep them warm at night. Adagio, Aria and Sonata would never give up one moment of their time with Spike for a ruby necklace or anything else. They loved him more than they loved themselves, and they treasured each and every one of his kisses and touches. Now, they lay in Spike’s bed with the rest of his women, still smiling and still happy, knowing that they were a part of his ever growing horde.

“Twilight in jail,” Sonata said. “Do you think she’s anyone’s bitch yet?”

“Sonata, she’s been in jail for over twelve hours,” Aria replied. “Of course she’s someone’s bitch!”

Their comments caught Spike by surprise, but he felt even more surprise to suddenly feel pity for Twilight. He remembered his conversations with Shining Armor the previous day, and found himself wondering just how many of the Captain’s words were true. Shining shared his knowledge of his sister’s many mistakes; including the ones he hadn’t told Spike before, like Twilight having to do soft-core in order to stay off the streets.

Spike hadn’t thought about that. In his mind, any woman or man who sold themselves was a disgusting creature. He had known poverty, but only for a short time. Between his godfather Torch and his adoptive mother Celestia, Spike had always been well provided for. He didn’t want to think of being poor, nor could he imagine resorting to selling his body, or worse, his soul, just to survive.

Spike looked at Applejack, who sat up in his bed, with the crimson sheet pulled up to her breasts, her long honey-colored hair cascaded around her shoulders like a waterfall, and her lustful green eyes shined at him. Her face was still flushed with their recent lovemaking and she made a most voluptuous sight as she shot him a devastatingly lovely smile.

“Don’t listen to them,” she said. “She treated you shabbily.”

Spike leaned over and kissed her on her ruby-colored mouth. Then a frown furrowed his brow when he heard a knock at his door.

“I won’t be long, my tigress,” he flirted as he patted her on her bottom.

He stood up straight, handsome in his nakedness, and pulled on his robe. He walked to the door, put his eye to the peephole, and saw two familiar faces close together. It was Lyra and Bon Bon, looking gorgeous as always.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked after he opened the door.

“We’re sorry to pop by unannounced like this,” Bon Bon said, “but we meant to invite you to our party tonight and someone...” She pointed at Lyra. “...forgot to do it.”

“Oh, like that’s the crime of the century!” Lyra exclaimed. “We’re both here now, so why don’t we just ask him?”

“Ask me what?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow in mild curiosity.

“We’re having a little get-together at the Hard Rock tonight,” Bon Bon said.

“Just a few friends,” Lyra added.

“Very casual,” Bon Bon went on.

“Fabulous catering,”

“Yummy waiters and waitresses,”

“And lots of famous people!” they finished together.

Applejack had gotten out of bed and stood beside Spike, tenderly running her fingers through his hair and across his chest.

“We would love to, but we already have plans,” she told them.

“Aww, it won’t be the same without you, Spike,” said Bon Bon.

Lyra agreed and they left arm in arm. After Spike closed the door, he turned to Applejack. He tilted his head to one side, his bottom lip trembling, and his warm, loving eyes starting to well up with tears.

“Don’t even try it!” she glared at him.

“The same night as the party that Torch invited me to, what are the odds of that happening?” Spike asked. He gasped. “It could be the same party!”

Spike ordered scrambled eggs with bacon, doughnuts, and cocoa for breakfast in the Café later that morning. Sitting with his harem at his exclusive booth, he’d finished peppering the eggs when Applejack asked him to pass the salt.

“Say we’re going to the Torch-Lyra-Bon-Bon party at the Hard Rock,”

“No!” she stated.

“Then no salt for you,” he replied, and proceeded to stick the shaker down the front of his pants. “I can’t believe I’m gonna miss a really great party with fantastic food, top shelf booze, celebrities including famous singers, pro athletes--”

“Whoa, whoa! Professional athletes?” Zephyr Breeze, who had just entered the Café with Soarin, inquired.

“Yeah, but what do you care?” Spike replied. “You don’t follow sports.”

“No, but I follow models, and models follow athletes,” Zeph replied.

“He’s right,” Soarin added. “Back home in Cloudsdale, we Wonderbolts got all the best tail. In fact, the Lady ‘Bolts were the best tail.”

“I’m going to that party,” Zephyr said.

“You weren’t invited,” Spike told him.

“A mere formality,” Zeph replied.

Suddenly, Spike felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and he checked his messages.

“Are you serious?!”

“What? What is it?” Pinkie asked.

“Thorax just texted me; he wants me to meet him at the Hard Rock tonight,” Spike said. “He’s bringing his brother Pharynx along and he wants you gals to come with me,” he told his harem.

Applejack loved Spike. She loved him so much that sometimes she actually felt a physical pain to imagine that he might be lying to her. And he was smart enough and crafty enough to lie convincingly about anything.

“I don’t believe you!” she exclaimed.

“I’m not lying, Thorax really texted me,” he said, showing them the message on his phone.

“You’re serious?” Sunset asked. “You got three invites to the same club on the same night?”

“Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but three times... is anything but,” Spike said. “Well, I guess I won’t be needing this anymore.”

He reached down the front of his pants and pulled out the salt shaker.

“How long has that been in there?” Zephyr inquired.

Spike entered Flim and Flam’s office five minutes before seven o’clock that evening. He had been feeling for some time that the Brothers were getting into deep water. In nearly all respects they were competent men, but their habits were their Achilles heel of which many had been able to take advantage of from time to time, including being able to obtain insight into their private affairs. And according to Shining Armor, the Flimflam Brothers were on the brink of a financial crisis. Further investigations were made with a little help from a few insiders, and a lot had come to light.

“What brings you here?” they asked Spike.

“I’m here about some things that I found out about your resort’s great and honorable past. Like how Gladmane sold it to a couple of shysters who are dealing it through so many dummy corporations that not even the IRS knows who really owns it. About how you two have been waiting until the right time to turn it back into a playground for Mafia bigwigs, and about how you almost had to be shut down when one of them ended up dead... Along with his bodyguards,”

Flim and Flam stood in surprised silence.

Frowning, Spike continued.

“The best part happened after ‘Bugsy’ Green was shot, though. Two more quick shuffles and then the resort is suddenly owned by a private citizen, a woman named Impossibly Rich, who just happens to be the same woman who owns the resort across the street from yours. And don’t even try to claim that this is ‘public knowledge’ because I can assure you it formed no part of my knowledge. People may remember the Green shooting, sure, but I doubt if anybody has been able to put together all the wondrous and strange shuffles your resort has been through since the Second Great War. And it always seems like a Rich or an associate of the Rich Family comes up with the door prize. What was Impossibly Rich running here from ’76 to ’86, before Gladmane owned it? It was a brothel, wasn’t it? That’s what Ragamuffin found out when he and his wife checked in that summer in 1986. They found out that Impossibly Rich bought control of a whole chain of brothels for fifty million dollars. And when they tried to turn her over to the authorities, she murdered them herself along with the maid who agreed to help them bring her down... and made it look like a double murder-suicide to the public eye.”

“Lies!” the Brothers stated.

“Are they?” Spike asked.

“If you are planning to write some ugly smear article...” Flim began.

“Or if this is some ill-conceived blackmail idea--” Flam added.

“Nothing of the sort,” Spike said. “I just don’t like being played for a fool.”

“Did you really think that we would share a big pile of dirty laundry with some dancer?” Flim asked. “Who do you think you are?”

“And how could those old stories possibly affect you?” added Flam.

“This isn’t even your resort, is it?” Spike asked them.

“We should sack you for this impertinence,” said Flim. “In fact, we will.”

“I think your shareholders, Mr. Glimmer and Mrs. Flare, might object. Strenuously,” Spike replied.

“And we believe you have finally overestimated your friends’ commitment to you, Mr. Drake,” said Flim.

“Who owns the resort now?” Spike demanded. “Is it still Rich Enterprises? Or are you two too small fry to know?”

“That will do, Mr. Drake,” Flam interjected. “You are an employee of the hotel, no different from a busboy or a kitchen pot scrubber.”

“It is Impossibly Rich, isn’t it? Maybe I should walk across the street, tear my way through her entire army of flunkies, march right into her office, and ask her myself. I might even tell her that the Flimflam Brothers—”

“Impossibly Rich doesn’t own us,” Flim said finally. “None of the Richs own this place. The stockholders do. Starlight’s father, Firelight, owns the largest block of stock himself: thirty-five percent. You would know better than us if he has any ties to Rich.”

“Then who did you take out a loan from to completely refurbish the amusement park? I can’t imagine it was cheap,”

“We have no intention of divulging any more names to you,” Flam stated.

“I’ll find out one way or another,” Spike said as he turned to leave. “I am sorry for being so brash, but I’ve got an appointment to keep.”

Later that night, Applejack, Sunset, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow Dash and Rarity, all clad in glittering dresses, followed Spike, who was dressed all in black, into the Hard Rock. The theme was rock and roll. The clientele was hip, Applewood. The music was loud enough to crack glass and the air was crisp enough to burn eyes.

Here, it was all about the scene: gorgeous models and actresses from Applewood in for the weekend with their producer boyfriends, A-list celebrities partying with sports stars and assorted high rollers. The décor fit the scene—wood tones and plush velvet, everything loud and young and in your face, from the custom motorcycle in the lobby to the grotto pool outside.

Spike hated it. Everything about it turned him off. The inside was dark, the music was deafeningly loud, the bass thumping in time with the rapidly flashing lights as sweaty bodies grinded together on the dance floor, and the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol filled the air and drunken couples sat making out in booths. Needless to say it stank, and the lack of lighting gave everything an interesting sheen.

“Whoa. This is unbelievable,” Sunset said.

She loved nights like this: nights where one could get lost in the atmosphere of the club life. Nobody cared about anything but dancing, blowing off steam, and letting everything go.

“Follow my lead and try to blend in,” Spike replied.

“We should find Lyra and Bon Bon,” Applejack told him.

“I say we start our hunt at the bar,” Dash put in.

Spike nodded in agreement.

He saw Lyra and Bon Bon talking to Soarin and Zephyr Breeze.

“Thanks for having me,” Zephyr said.

“Well, it’s hard to say no to someone who followed me and my best friend around all day, begging,” Bon Bon replied.

“Just remember, we only agreed to let him come because you promised to keep an eye on him,” Lyra told Soarin.

“These are our friends and colleagues,” Bon Bon added, “and they deserve to not be sexually harassed.”

“He’ll be on his best behavior,” Soarin assured them.

“We’ll settle for him keeping his pants on the whole time,” Lyra replied.

“I didn’t realize you’d set the bar that low,” Soarin said. “I’ll do my best.”

Soarin turned to face Zephyr Breeze so that he could lay down some rules, but Zephyr had already disappeared. He found him at the bar with Spike and the girls. Spike was slowly nursing a Scotch while Zephyr was flirting with a pair of cute Dragonese girls.

“Hey, ladies, how you doin’?” he asked. “Wait a minute...” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an English-to-Dragonese dictionary. “Ĉu vi volas nudi kaj razi mian pugon?” he asked.

The women both gasped and smacked him firmly across his face before storming off.

“Ow! What? Was it something I said?” Zephyr called after them. “Did you see the way they just slapped me?” he asked Spike.

“You’re lucky that that’s all they did,” Spike replied. “You insulted them.”

“All I did was ask them if I could buy them a glass of wine,”

“You asked them to get naked... and shave your ass,”

Zephyr’s eyes went big. “I said that?”

“Yes!”

“Spike, I’m sorry, I feel terrible, okay? But I’ve been in this city for almost three months and I’ve done little more than work! The only reason anyone even comes to Las Pegasus at all is to have a good time! I am on vacation, man, and I want some moo shu!”

“Moo shu?” Applejack repeated. “Ya hungry?”

“Not that kind of ‘moo shu’, I want to see some women!”

“You already have a woman,” Spike told him, “or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t; she’s in the can as we speak,” Zephyr answered.

“Speaking of which, I gotta use it,” Soarin said lamely.

“Well, hurry back!” Zeph replied. “We’re gonna par-tay!”

Spike found himself escorted to a private booth, surrounded by strippers and starlets from Applewood, with Sunset and Applejack on his arms. Pinkie, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Rarity sat one booth over but never made eye contact with him, and Zephyr Breeze was on the dance floor, his head bouncing high over the crowd. Everyone else had relatively the same expression on their faces, a sort of reckless abandon, heads tilted up towards the giant mirror ball in the center of the ceiling. Spike sat, lost in thought, drumming his fingers on the table as Sunset watched the flickering lights and wondered if life could possibly get any better.

Then she heard someone call Spike’s name.

They looked over and saw Hock Fetlock waving at him. He weaved through the crowd, occasionally stopping to shake somebody’s hand. Everyone tried to get a good look at Spike, trying to figure out who he was. They figured he had to be someone famous to be hanging out with the celebrity baseball player.

“How’re you doing? Hock Fetlock,” he introduced himself. “Make yourself feel at home. You need anything, Champagne, caviar, my party is your party.”

“This is your party?” Spike asked. “That’s funny, because I was invited to this very same party by no less than four different individuals, two of which asked together... at the same time. And they all claimed it was their party. So, whose party is this really?”

Hock didn’t get a chance to answer because Sunset and Applejack each grabbed one of Spike’s hands and dragged him off to one of the private rooms. Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow Dash and Rarity followed them.

“Hey, what the Tartarus?” Spike exclaimed. “What are you doing? My Scotch is still out there.”

“Look!” Sunset hissed.

Spike peeked through the crack in the doorway. “Yeah, I see it, single malt, right there, on the table.”

“Twilight’s brother just walked in,” Applejack said.

Spike looked again. “Wow,” he commented.

It was Shining Armor.

Rarity slammed the door shut.

“Why is he here?” she asked. “Why did I go along with this?”

“Hey, at least be thankful you have a drink,” Spike told her. “Let me take a look and see if there’s an escape route--you son of a buck!”

“What?” Pinkie asked.

“Some asshole took my Scotch,”

Meanwhile, out on the dance floor...

“What are you doing here?” Shining asked Soarin.

“Turns out, I’m in charge of making sure these two keep their clothes on,” he replied, jerking his head in Zephyr Breeze and Tree Hugger’s direction.

“Good luck,” Zephyr laughed. “So, what are you doing here?” he asked Shining Armor. “I thought you were having your own little party.”

“And you wonder why I didn’t invite you,” Shining countered.

“I thought you’d invite me because you liked me,” he replied.

Zephyr’s eyes strayed to a tall woman with long auburn hair, smoke-colored eyes, and high cheekbones. He glanced at the woman, trying not to be too obvious, or obnoxious. She was wearing a silk halter top that barely contained her unnaturally round breasts, and a sliver of tan abdomen was showing above her tight leather pants. She was the epitome of the Las Pegasus girl, the kind of woman you saw on the arm of a celebrity in the high-stakes pits or whisking through the VIP line at a nightclub.

“Hi, I’m Zephyr Breeze,” he began.

“And I’m married,” she quickly shut him down.

“Oh, well, you should be. You’re gorgeous,”

“My husband is right over there,”

“I can’t see anyone past Hock Fetlock,”

“It is Hock Fetlock,”

“Yikes,” Zephyr squeaked and he felt his face growing warm as Hock came up beside her.

From the private room across the dance floor, Spike saw the scene unfold.

“Hold on. Hock Fetlock is going in motion... He’s setting a block for us. Come on, we got an open field. Go, go, go!”

Spike strode quickly down a dark corridor and the girls followed, trying to keep up with him.

“Scarlet, is this guy hitting on you?” Hock asked his wife.

“I think that’s what he’s trying to do,” she replied.

That’s when Lyra and Bon Bon walked up to them.

“Hock, Scarlet, is everything okay?” Lyra asked.

“You know, Lyra, I came here to relax and unwind,” Hock told her, “and all of a sudden, this oversized blond rat started dry humping my wife’s leg!”

“You what?” Lyra directed at Zephyr Breeze.

“Why would you do that?” Bon Bon asked.

“Yeah, why?” Hock repeated.

“Why?” they all demanded.

“I didn’t! I wasn’t hitting on her! That doesn’t even make sense!” Zeph said. “Just ask my girlfriend,” he added, wrapping his arm around Tree Hugger’s waist.

“You’re dating her?” Hock inquired.

“Tell ‘em what I did to you last night. She’s so insatiable!” Zephyr chuckled. “That was close,” he whispered after they had all walked away.

Spike and his girlfriends found themselves in an elegant room where Thorax and Pharynx, in their custom tailored three-piece suits; and a shapely young woman, a little older than Spike, seemed to be waiting for them.

“Hello, Ember,” Spike said.

She slowly removed her coat, revealing her slinky, dark blue, almost black, backless dress. She leaned back, balancing against the sofa, her unblemished back arched seductively. She turned to face Spike, looked him up and down before lowering her gaze, and smiled. Then she pulled him into a lingering kiss, which heated up quickly. She made a lovely armful, and it was impossible to mistake an old flame’s kisses for anything else.

As Ember broke the kiss, Spike was overwhelmed with memories of their night of passion in that very same room years ago. Him nuzzling the back of her neck as he ran his fingers through her hair before sliding her dress over head and making love against the wide window overlooking the Strip, the sweeping choreographed movements of the water fountains outside echoing the rise and fall of their tender embrace.

“Dad’s waiting for you,” she said.

She batted her eyelids suggestively and she relieved Spike of his gun, and Thorax and Pharynx escorted them into the elevator, where Spike began to tell the girls about his connection to the Dragon Lord.

“What the Tartarus is going on here, Spike?” Applejack asked.

“Remember my conversation with Torch in the spa the other day?” he replied. “He told me that two of Impossibly Rich’s employees were killed.”

“What?” Sunset asked.

When the elevator doors opened, Ember led them through a large room on the 18th floor—the top floor—of the Hard Rock. As Spike’s girls looked around, they couldn’t help but be impressed. Such living space, even in Las Pegasus, they realized, was almost unheard of, except for those powers that ran the show. Two of the walls were covered with heavy, dark blue, gold-bordered curtains. From the way the borders gleamed against the dark fabric, Spike knew that it was real gold in the threads. Two hazy Dragonese landscapes hung from scrolls on the third wall. There were tiny Dragonese figures in the corner of one and at the very bottom of the other, and both of them contained great mountain peaks rising out of mists to dominate each of the pictures completely. Dragonese characters ran up one side of each of them. And there were various paintings in gilded frames, including a Rocoltcco portrait of girl smiling while on a swing, a woman modestly covering herself like Broncocelli’s Venus de Marelo, and a man wielding the Bloodstone Scepter in one hand and holding a dragon egg aloft in his other hand. The furniture was all large, and exquisitely detailed and finished. All the surfaces were lacquered to a shiny black sheen that was almost alive in its brilliance. The chairs and sofas were covered with scarlet silk, and the coverlet was of the same incredibly smooth material. Thick, tightly-woven rugs covered the floor in a rich, careless profusion.

“Now, let me get this straight,” Applejack said. “You stole Torch’s favorite car, you dated and slept with his daughter, and now you expect him to help you?”

“Yes,” Spike answered.

“What are you gonna do?” Sunset asked. “Appeal to his heart?”

“No. His wallet,”

“That might work,” Sunset, Applejack, Pinkie, Dash and Rarity all said.

The women stayed close to Spike as they were led down a plush marble corridor and outside, onto the roof, where the huge, illuminated guitar blazing with the words “Hard Rock Hotel” pointed skyward. And standing near the edge the roof, overlooking the city skyline, were Garble and Dragon Lord Torch.

Garble’s clothes and hair were a mess and his ashen face was a mask of failure. The Dragon Lord was circling him, his huge frame stuffed into a two-thousand dollar arctic blue three-piece suit, crafted out of enough material to blanket half of the desert.

Torch’s façade always contained a hint of scorn, of disapproval, of a dislike he didn’t bother to conceal, but now it was full blown outrage. He was speaking to Garble in Dragonese but Spike understood him perfectly.

“You disappoint me, Garble,” he said. “Have you forgotten where you’re from? Don’t forget who you work for. You think you could ever be Dragon Lord?”

Torch’s gaze shifted to his daughter as she led Spike and the others towards his position. Torch frowned as his eyes trained on Garble again and he dismissed him. Garble nodded dumbly and he walked past Spike, each man eyeing the other coldly. Garble’s shoulders filled the doorway and then he disappeared through it.

Ember gave her father Spike’s gun, and he held it in his hands.

“Single shot derringer, small but effective, in the right hands. Only three men I know use such a gun. I have killed two of them,” the Dragon Lord said.

“Lucky me,” Spike remarked.

For just a brief moment, the disdainful expression on Torch’s face melted... and he smiled at Spike, but the smile withered and died as soon as it had appeared.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said. “Please, ask your friends to wait inside.”

“Tartarus no, we’re not going anywhere!” Rainbow Dash stated.

“It’s okay,” Spike told them.

“We are not leaving you alone with him!” Rarity replied.

“I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?” Fluttershy asked.

“I promise,”

The air went quiet as Spike’s girlfriends went back inside. Thorax, Pharynx and Ember all stood close by as Torch approached his godson and gave the small weapon back to him.

“I know what everybody’s saying,” Torch said. “Despite what people suspect... what you suspect--I did not blow up Impossibly Rich’s gambling den. I’m not that stupid. But I believe some of my people did. My enemies are trying to frame me. There is a war going on, right now, within the Dragon Mafia -- I’m afraid I’m going to lose this time... if Barbara was still alive, I would be turning to her right now.”

“Don’t!” Spike stated. “Please don’t.”

Torch heard the steel in Spike’s voice, and acknowledged it.

“Spike, I really need your help. I can’t trust anybody else. The Richs aren’t just ruthless criminals, they’re monsters. They’re stockpiling Las Pegasus’s wealth, but I don’t know why. Maybe for themselves, maybe for something else, but they’ve harmed a lot of good people doing it and I intend to find out why,”

“Tell me why they killed the EBI agents,”

“I will tell you everything you want to know, but you have got to get me out of Las Pegasus right away!”

“You’re willing to put everything at stake just to bring her down?”

“Easiest bet of my life,” Torch said. “There’s no way you can lose, right?” He placed both of his hands on Spike’s shoulders. “I’m counting on you, Spike. Equestria’s entire future rests on your shoulders.”

Suddenly, Garble burst onto the roof, flanked by eight Dragons that Spike recognized as Backdraft, Charcoal, Cinders, Clump, Fizzle, Fume, Maar and Whip. Garble cursed at Torch in Dragonese as he reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a gun, and shot at them. The bullet pierced Torch’s blue jacket, just over his heart, and he fell back, over the ledge. Spike, acting on instinct, moved toward Garble, but his bodyguards attacked him, Ember, Thorax and Pharynx from all sides.

The Dragon men started throwing punches and Spike breathed fire in Clump and Fume’s faces, while Ember kicked Cinders and Maar (the two girls), and Thorax blocked and countered Charcoal and Fizzle’s blows. Pharynx grabbed Backdraft and flung him into Whip, sending them both off the side of the building. When Spike saw Ember land on her front after a sweeping kick from Cinders, he grabbed Ember by her ankles and flipped so that she landed on her feet and jabbed Maar in the face before the turncoat could land another hit.

Once they had helped Ember deal with Garble’s band of traitors, Spike, Thorax and Pharynx gave chase. With Applejack, Sunset, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow Dash and Rarity close behind them, they chased Garble down the stairwell and across the neon blue dance floor into a wide open “Staff Only” area: the kitchen. Garble pushed the waiters out of his way and hightailed it past chefs wielding flaming pans of food. Spike and his friends spilled through the doors behind Garble and surged after him in hot pursuit. They were closing in on him... but he escaped into the crowd.

When Spike and his friends exited onto the street, no less than three Las Pegasus police squad cars were parked on the curb with their lights flashing. That told Spike way too much. Showing up long before too many people could have heard the gunshot and reported it. Somebody must have tipped them off. But what really stunned him was that no one found Torch’s body... and Garble and his followers all vanished, as did Ember.

“Well, Spike, Torch was our only bait, and now he’s gone,” Shining Armor said. “So, you got your revenge... at the expense of a government investigation.”

“‘Revenge’?” Rainbow Dash asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Now, I don’t know if Impossibly Rich paid you to get rid of Torch, or if it was a pure vendetta killing, or if you’re involved in the counterfeiting yourself, but I don’t ever want to see you again. Is that clear?” Shining asked.

“Hey!” Dash shouted.

“Rainbow Dash, stay out of this!” Shining told her. “You and Soarin are in enough trouble! I’ve already contact your superiors. You’re both going back to the Wonderbolt Academy, right now.”

“Hey, that’s fine with me, man!” Dash shouted in reply. “I haven’t had fun since I got out here!”

Spike, Thorax, Pharynx, Soarin, Zephyr Breeze, AJ, Sunset, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Dash and Rarity all left the Hard Rock with their heads up high, passing Shining Armor, who was on his way back to his car.

“Great,” Zephyr groaned. “Can this day possibly get worse?”

It could, and it did.

Spike was still replaying the events that had transpired at the Hard Rock over in his mind when he and his friends returned the Flimflam Brothers’ Resort twenty minutes later. A small crowd had gathered in the lobby and was looking at the startled surprise on Flim and Flam’s faces, as they stood with Celestia, Discord, Chrysalis, Feather Bangs, Firelight, Starlight, Stellar Flare, Sunburst, Trixie, Moon Dancer, Vinyl, Coco, Sassy, Fleur, Adagio, Aria, Sonata, Tempest Shadow... and the entire Rich Family.

“I know foul play when I see it!” Discord spat.

“Don’t worry. You three can work off the debt you owe performing in the nightclub for the next... seventeen years,” Impossibly Rich smiled at the Dazzlings.

Spike’s eyes snapped to the Adagio after he made his way across the lobby.

“It wasn’t us, I swear!” she told him.

Spike looked toward the pack of Rich employees, and they parted, revealing Twilight Sparkle in a purple and plaid Rich company uniform: pleated skirt, fitted maroon jacket, and blue Stiletto heels. She’d also done her hair up into a tight bun.

“My employers had the money to cover my bail,” she said.

“Twilight,” Rarity gasped, “you were working for Impossibly Rich the whole time?”

“So you were the mole,” Discord growled.

“Wait! If you really are working for Rich, which do you prefer?” Pinkie asked. “Cake... or pie?”

“Neither,” Twilight said. “I hate your pies! And so does Rainbow Dash!”

Pinkie recoiled.

“A real friend wouldn’t hurt my feelings like that!” she sobbed.

“That’s because I’m NOT your friend!” Twilight shouted. “And having to work alongside all of you pathetic termagants has been nothing but torture! But it’s all been worth it, now that Impossibly Rich finally has control of your Resort!”

“And while you’re still here, I happen to have something I want to discuss with you,” Impossibly Rich added at Spike.

“What?” he asked.

“Miss Sparkle’s skills are unparalleled, but I can’t deny you have potential,” she told him. “How would you like to work for me? Many of the guests here would hate to see their Lucky Prince go. Well?”

“Not. Interested,” Spike stated.

“A part of me knew you would say that. Allow me to sweeten the deal. What if I said I’d take you on, with a guaranteed promotion to general manager? I’d even grant you full control over this resort. Plus, you would be free to rehire any of your little friends. Is that enough to entice you?”

“Spike, we order you to accept those terms!” Flim shouted.

“And hire us!” Flam added.

“Thanks, but no,” Spike told Impossibly Rich. “I can’t stand you. At. All.”

“That’s such a shame.” Impossibly Rich said. “That means you all are out of jobs. Abacus Cinch, show these men and women off the premises! Don’t ever set foot in any of my casinos again.”

Caramel and Lucky Clover, two of the men who had worked security under Applejack, now dressed in Rich uniforms, stepped forward.

“Escort them to the airport,” Cinch told them.

“No, I’ll take them,” Spike said.

“Get your hands off me!” Dash shouted.

Spike came up to the Dazzlings.

“Watch your backs,” he warned them.

With a last look at them, a look that held some message that was more than the obvious warning, Discord, Chrysalis, Feather Bangs, Soarin, Zephyr Breeze and the rest of Spike’s harem followed him.

He stopped for a moment, looked at Twilight, and swore suddenly.

“Bitch.”

The word stunned her so much that it wiped the smirk off her face.

Spike walked out of the lobby, leaving the abashed traitor standing in the middle of the room, looking around her at the grinning faces. And then, to her astonishment, he was gone.

Next time: Spike tells his friends the truth about his mother, takes them to an underground gambling den, and consults an informant.