A larger-than-life-sized and grinning image of Gladmane, embossed in gold on the luxury resort’s double doors, greets Trixie and the Golden Horseshoe Gals. The overwhelming grandeur takes the unicorn back; she fondly remembers the first time she got the opportunity to perform on stage here, even if the prize for winning the Amazing Amateurs was rescinded for cheating. (It was a magic trick - you were supposed to cheat!) She pushes the door open, briefly astonished by the spectacle inside - which, for her, is saying something.

The spotless floor shimmers with reflected lights, so unlike the wooden boards she has gotten used to from her year in Ponyville. No signs of dirt, either, or any trace of scuffs or tarnish or marks other than the clinking bits and three white stars of Gladmane’s cutie mark, stamped or inlaid or carved everywhere she looks. That or his image, standing on two legs and waving with a cheerful grin. Barkers line half of the many doors leading from the grand atrium, bellowing about the sights and spectacles located just inside. Talent shows, minstrels, open-mic comedy, anything under the sun (and many things under the moon, if she reads between the lines) are at her hooftips, and her only regret will be that she didn’t partake sooner! And, conspicuously emphasized, is that each of these attractions is brought by none other than the chairpony of kindness, Gladmane.

In the center stands Gladmane himself, dressed to the sixes in a Hoity-Toity original three-quarter suit of dark cobalt silk trimmed with glittering sapphires and aquamarines. He runs a polished hoof through his slicked-back silvered mane as soon as he sees the grandmares approach, making his way directly towards them while their attention is captured by the roller coaster zooming overhead and the bright, flashing lights of the casino and game rooms.

“Well, well,” the gregarious earth pony merrily welcomes, sending all four grandmares to giggling with a single wink. “Bless my eyes, if it isn’t my friends the Golden Horseshoe Gals! I’m ever so honored that y’all’ve once again returned to Gladmane’s luxury resort. Why, it just tickles my heart to see your fresh faces!” He bows low, then deftly turns to Trixie, regarding her with nothing less than a dam’s warmth for her filly. “And little miss Lulamoon! Back after all these years! Any chance you’ll be showin’ off some of the tricks you’ve learned? We’ve got a slot just for you, lined up and waiting!”

“Gladmane,” Trixie greets, though the offer worries her; open performance slots are never a good sign, especially somewhere as prestigious as Gladmane’s. Same with open mic’s; great to find new and up-and-coming talent, but here? “The Great and Powerful Trixie would love to, but-”

“Oh, oh, say no more,” Gladmane reassures as he notes Trixie’s glance at the grandmares. “I should’ve realized you were giving these fine gals a private tour of the premises!”

“Forget the private tour!” Goldie Delicious exclaims, revving up her horseshoe-tossing hoof. “We’re here to play some serious horseshoe toss!”

“Oh, is that right?” Gladmane gives the elderly mare a friendly wink as he pulls a broadcast mic to his muzzle, the announcement broadcast through multiple loudspeakers. “Listen here, y’all! Drinks and apple fritters are half off for all my friends spectating the Horseshoe Toss Competition happenin’ in the Stars’n Strikes Game Room, and free for any competitors! Enjoy!” He turns back to the grandmares as a large number of ponies of all ages head to the darkly lit game room. “Y’all have a lovely day now, ya hear? Uh-huh-huh.”

*

Applejack stomps over to the two hatted charlatans, her scowl liable to grind the pieces they are idly pushing around to dust. Flam notices her aggressive approach before she can let her tongue loose; he jumps up, greeting her loudly enough to draw attention from a few nearby ponies and stifling her half-formed outburst. “Cousin Applejack!”

Flim leaps to his hooves, shooting her the same smile he used to sell the operator rights to the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. “How good to see you!”

“Cousin Flim,” Applejack states icily enough to chill their fruity drinks, addressing first the clean shaven one and then the mustached. “Cousin Flam.” Her brows furrow, their smiles not depressing an inch. She demands, barely loud enough to be heard over the ebullient atmosphere, “What in the hay are you two charlatans doin’ here?”

Flim gasps as Flam holds a hoof to his head as though he is about to faint. “Charlatans?” His smile widens, though it can’t get any more fraudulent. “No, no! You have it all wrong! We’re legitimate businessponies now!”

“Always have been,” Flam adds, poofing out the ironed lapels on his pinstripe shirt.

Applejack growls at the obvious lie, but Flim and Flam banter back and forth before she can get a word in edgewise.

“Ever since you and your stallion set us on the straight-”

“-And narrow-”

“-we’ve been racking our brains on what sorts of stellar services we can provide.” Flim motions to a stack of papers next to the chess game the two are ostensibly playing.

“Speaking of racks,” Flam says, pulling next to Applejack with a look of worry, the first sincere emotion she has detected, “that brute isn’t around here, is he?” He gulps, massaging his neck. “I would hate for there to be another… misunderstanding.”

Applejack sighs, her anger dissipating at the reminder of how Doug treated the two, even if it was (by their own admission) entirely deserved. “No, he ain’t.” The two visibly relax, much to her consternation. She looks around at the two dozen or so other chess games going on, and the street performers doing their best to keep everypony entertained. “But if’n ya two ain’t concoctin’ some sorta scheme, then, what’re ya doin’ here? Don’t ya get enough from cider sales to not need to play for a room?”

Flim randomly pushes a pegasus on the board. “We… may have accumulated a few debts in our time.”

“Costs of business, you know.”

“Why pass up an opportunity?” Flim grins. “And what better place to find opportunity than Grin City itself?”

“And, speaking of opportunities,” Flam continues before Applejack can answer the (probably) rhetorical questions that there are a bunch of opportunities the two should pass on. He pulls out one of the papers, a detailed and dense set of figures and tables labeled ‘FFMCT’. “Perhaps we can get your, how shall I say, input as to where we should next direct our attention?”

Applejack takes the offered page, though the closely packed numbers threaten to make her head spin. She deadpans, “Weren’t ya runnin’ out of apple juice’n beet leaves to make that Flim Flam Miracle Curative Tonic?”

Flam doesn’t lose an ounce of enthusiasm. “Buy it now while supplies last!”

Applejack fixes Flam with a renewed scowl. “But it don’t cure anythin’!”

If Flam was wearing glasses he would be peering over them with an inquisitive stare. It’s enough to make Applejack flinch. “So you, Applejack of Herd Apple, are willing to go on record to say that apple juice does not, in fact, possess any redeeming medicinal qualities? That it is, in fact, impossible for that to be the case? That an apple a day does not, in fact, keep the doctor away?”

Applejack sighs, averting his scrutinizing gaze. The paper lists such ‘maladies’ as tummy aches, hunger pangs, and scurvy. Not exactly false advertising, but a marked improvement over their prior unfounded assertions. “Ya ain’t gettin’ mah endorsement on that. What else ya got?”

Not to be deterred, Flim pulls out the next sheet of paper. “Why, a multitude of money-making measures sure to slick those saddlebags of yours with enough bits to last a lifetime! Like this! Drumroll, please!”

Flim and Flam alternate which one holds up a crude picture while the other huckster explains, Applejack shaking her head the whole time.

“We heard about the success of Twilight Sparkle’s Friendship School, and we need a prominent member of the community to endorse our very own Friendship University, where they could learn the same lessons in half the time!”

“Licensing?” Applejack frowns. “That’d be up to Twilight, an’ Ah don’t-”

“How about a pawn shop where we sell undervalued items retrieved from yard and estate sales?”

Applejack’s eyes narrow. “No fencing?”

Flam hurriedly puts that paper away while Flim pulls out the next. “Parasprite repellant? They’re a huge problem in Phillydelphia right now!”

Applejack raises an eyebrow. “That works?”

Flim shoots her a grin. “Do you see any parasprites around here?”

Applejack sighs. Of course it’s too good to be true. “Ee-nope.”

Flam comes back undeterred, “Purchasing the land out from under a pony’s store and selling it back at an outrageous markup?”

Applejack doesn’t even bother to respond to that, and Flam stuffs it with the other rejects.

“Giving away Windy the Windigo dolls, who brings snow when ponies spread Kindness every Hearthswarming Season?”

“Err,” Applejack says, struggling and failing to find fault. “That actually don’t sound that bad. Ah mean, it’s made up, but so’re lots of traditions.” She frowns. “Ya’d give ‘em away? For free?”

“Of course,” Flim smoothly says, giving Applejack a one-legged hug and Flam a wink.

“It’s the accessories-” Flam starts before a quick motion from Flim shuts him up.

“Ah,” Applejack says, understanding the scam now. Or is that just smart advertising? Maybe that’s the same thing. She pushes Flim away. “In that case, Ee-nope.”

Flam continues, “A huggable, hoof-made toy promoting the wonders of capitalism that every filly will dream of owning? That we can then rebrand to denounce greed and encourage sharing?”

“Ee-nope.”

“Fleecing sheep for their wool?”

“Ee-nope.”

“A sneaky method to smuggle King Sombra and a ravenous army into the Crystal Empire?”

“Ee-no- wait, what was that?”

“A ring toss game where the rings are only slightly larger than the milk bottles, thus making it technically possible but extremely technical to win?”

“No, no, no!” Applejack stamps a hoof, getting Flim and Flam to pause. “Go back. What was that ya said?”

“A… ring toss game?” Flim glances at his picture. “It’d be difficult to win, but some ponies would, but we would have to cover expenses, the cost of running the booth. No different than other carnival games, like a bottle toss or-”

“No, before that!” Applejack growls.

Flam looks at the picture in his hoof. It’s certainly not Sombra, but she’s not sure which she would rather have in her house. “Holly the Hearth’s Warmer is a cherished gift for only the most special of friends, and-”

Applejack huffs, waving a hoof and cutting him off. Did she imagine it? “Forget about it. Why can’t you two do something honest with your life? You’re obviously good at comin’ up with ideas, an’ much as Ah hate to admit it, implementin’ ‘em and convincin’ other ponies they’re good ideas instead’a scams!” At Flim and Flam’s puzzled look she continues, “Like the Cider Squeezy. Even Ah gotta admit it makes quality cider - well, as long as ya feed it quality ingredients. Couldn’t ya make more’a those?”

“Cousin Applejack,” Flim says with an earnest though patronizing tone, wrapping a hoof around her withers, “are you familiar with the concept of a cartel?”

“Err,” Applejack stammers. “It don’t sound like an honest organization.”

“But it is!” Flam counters. “You see, by restricting output, one is able to maintain scarcity and thus demand a higher price. If we produced more, the price would fall, and so would our profits, and all we would have gained was more work.”

“I can see it now,” Flim says dreamily, waving a hoof to the darkening sky. “All the trees of Ponyville, clear-cut to make room for endless orchards, stretching as far as the eye can see.”

Applejack chuckles. “Failin’ to see the problem there.”

“Don’t forget the factories,” Flam adds. “Smoke-spewing behemoths, ravaging the land as they devour greater and greater quantities of apples.”

“Still speakin’ mah language,” Applejack says with a widening grin.

“...Huh.” Flim stares at Flam, who stares back. “You mean there’s a scheme the Flim Flam Brothers can concoct that a member of the Apple family won’t show up and ruin?”

“Long as it produces quality Apple products?” Applejack’s shrug is met with downcast eyes and heavy sighs. She gently pushes up Flim’s face. “Look. Long as you’re sellin’ things ponies need, not just things ya can convince ‘em they want? Ah won’t have nothin’ to say. Hay, Ah’d even endorse it.”

Flam nods reluctantly, and pulls away to confer with Flim. “It’ll take some time to draw up plans.”

“Expensive plans,” Flim concurs, grimacing. “Unprofitable plans.”

“We’re sorry,” Flam says to Applejack with a shake of his head. “But we have principals, madam. Take joy in profit, and profit from joy.” He sits down and studies the chess board.

“Rule fifty-five,” Flim adds with a curt, dismissive nod as he goes back to their game.

Applejack sighs. “Worth a shot, Ah suppose.” She glances at her cutie mark. It’s not pulsing with pleasure, just sitting there like normal. “Well, Ah best be goin’, then. Y’all stay outta trouble.”

“Of course,” the two chorus back, tipping their hats as she stalks off.

Next Chapter: Ch. 159 - Mutated Growth, Part Five Estimated time remaining: 6 Hours, 59 Minutes