The Outcastsby The almighty ragerChaptersPrologueChapter 2 - The outcast clubChapter 3 - Learn from your mistakes...Chapter 3.5 - ReminiscingChapter 1 - Silent displeasurePrologueA large group of earth ponies were gathering in the square of the city, casually sauntering to the riser seats surrounding a large stone pedestal that rested directly in front of the city hall. It bore no glorified statue of the proud founder of the city or of a historic event, instead bearing chains and shackles that snaked across its feather-laden surface. The citizens talked amongst each other, some about rumors they had heard, others about which store had the best supplies, and others still of things that had no real importance whatsoever. A loud whine was heard from the aged speakers on the flag poles that flanked either side of the entrance to city hall and all the crowd went silent. "Citizens of Earth's Haven! I have called you all here to witness the trial of a monster caught within our walls, whose horrid figure bears the horn of the devil horse and the wings of a dragon! This mutant sought asylum in our walls, but we shall not live among such filth so long as your leader, Stalwart Shield, watches over this city." As the city's leader continued, a creature was led by four guards. Two of which held chains leading to a collar around its neck, while the other two wielded batons in case it decided to try and break free from the pair that was leading it to the city square. When the group reached the pedestal, the shackles laying about on it were closed around the creature's ankles with loud clanks. Stalwart Shield, the city leader, stepped out onto the balcony of the city hall, high above the square. Many citizens cheered upon his arrival while others stayed quiet. All of them knew what was to come. The loudspeakers whined once again as the proud leader prepared to speak. "Each day, we are plagued by monsters and mutants that threaten to tarnish our perfect society!" The guards on the pedestal violently tackled the creature, pinning it to the ground, ignoring its cries for mercy. "One stands before us this very day. They believe themselves better than us, better than nature's design!" Two of the guards began furiously ripping clumps of feathers off the creature's wings as the other two kept it pinned. "We will prove that no creature is above what nature intends." A shaky, middle-aged mare approached the microphone next to Stalwart Shield clutching a piece of paper in her hooves. She was almost on the verge of tears. She regained her composure as best as she could, adjusted her glasses, and cleared her throat. "This... Mutant is charged with crimes against the design of nature, as well as threatening to corrupt the minds and bodies of these uh... untainted denizens of the city known as Earth's Haven. The punishment is... Oh god why... Cleansing through means of public execution. Final verdict, as... decided by the people?" she said, silently praying the ponies in the stands wouldn't say the creature was guilty, for somepony to speak out against this trial. Her prayers were crushed when a unanimous cry of "Guilty!" rang from the stands, soon followed by chants of "Hang the mutant! Hang the mutant!". The mare looked down at the floor underneath her hooves, tears welling up in her eyes. She practically shoved the piece of paper she was meant to read into Stalwart Shield's hooves and galloped off sobbing. "As decided by the people, the mutant will be cleansed through execution! Prepare the gallows!" Stalwart announced proudly. The guards, having finished tearing all the feathers off the beast's wings, unlocked the shackles that kept the beast chained to the pedestal and dragged it by the collar around its neck to the edge of the city, where the gallows stood in the light of the setting sun. The captive creature saw its destination, and began frantically clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to get free. "No, no please! I don't want to die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!" Again, the guards ignored its cries. After a short bit of struggling, the guards managed to attach the gallows' chain to the loop on the collar and jumped back before the trapdoor opened underneath the mutant, sending it plummeting to its death, screaming all the way and flapping its now useless wings as it fell. Several moments passed before the chain finally snapped taut. A roar of cheering rose from the crowd once again. Much of the crowd had returned to their homes, and the guards had returned to their posts. There were still a few denizens that stayed behind, but they were mainly talking with others near the local pubs and inns. One pony, a light brown colt wearing small square glasses and a dark green hoodie stood near the gallows, staring at the chain, a remorseful expression on his face. He stepped closer to the edge and kicked a small stone off, watching it as it fell. His eyes drifted to the hanging corpse and he quickly looked back up. "They shouldn't have to kill another pony just because they've got a horn or wings." he muttered. "Ah'd stow that kinda talk if ah were you." said another pony. The colt turned around to see an orange mare with a blonde mane wearing a Stetson standing behind him. She didn't look pleased. "Tell me something sugarcube. Do you want to get locked up for sidin' with them mutants? I wouldn't waste a second in gettin' you turned in." "Applejack, think about it. Those 'mutants', as folks like you so fondly call them, wouldn't be here if it wasn't intended by this 'nature's design' crap." he said. The mare closed the distance between them, quickly coming face-to-face with the colt. "Now you listen here ya ungrateful little punk, those mutants ain't nothing more than dirt stains on nature's boots. We're here for a reason, and that reason is to live off the land and kill off whatever nature says ain't fit to live on this world. Those mutants ain't fit to live on this world, so we kill 'em. That's it." said Applejack sternly. "I don't care! Those ponies are here-" "Those things sure as hay ain't ponies, Sugar Buzz." she said, her expression unchanged. "Regardless, they're here, living and breathing like us, and we just have to kill them?! What good does that do for us? Tell me what good it does us besides 'keeping us ponies and our city from gettin' dirtied up by them mutants'. Go on." "Why, it does quite a few good things fer us ponies. Fer one, no more mutants stealing our crops. Then there's less worry of an invasion. Finally... Uh..." Applejack scratched her head, trying to think of other reasons. "Only one reason stated and you're already losin' steam AJ." mused Sugar Buzz. "No ah'm not! There was something else and ah'm just tryin' to remember it is all." Applejack snapped. Sugar Buzz wasn't convinced. The mare looked up at the clock tower. "Aw hayseeds... Look, ah'd love to keep chattin' with ya on this, but I got... uh... some crops back home what need harvestin' and all that. Bye!" she lied before galloping off past a pub. The colt shook his head. Sure, use the time as an excuse to get away from an argument you already lost AJ, he thought. Sugar Buzz looked at the clock tower as well. Seven-thirty-two. He remembered a concert being performed by Octavia that was scheduled for eight in the Daisy district, and set off at a brisk trot, hoping to get there before the opening act. Chapter 2 - The outcast clubIt was rather dark in the alley next to the Moonlight Bushel, and Sugar Buzz didn't feel at ease, due in great part to the fact that he was alone in the dark in a part of the city he was unfamiliar with. He almost never left his home, and if he did, he didn't venture very far from it. Nervously, he looked up to the nearby clock tower. It only read 8:29. Time felt like it was hardly moving. Okay, guess I got here a bit early. I still got a minute to wait though. Sugar's thoughts feverishly began formulating several scenarios of things that might happen to him in this alleyway. "Ah, Sugar Buzz! You made it." The young colt nearly jumped out of his coat before quickly turning about to see Steelmane standing almost right next to him. The commander's arrival was poorly timed, as a scenario involving a gunman coming from behind had just played through the boy's head. "Please don't do that sir... I'm skittish enough as is!" Sugar Buzz griped, his voice firm but panicked. He looked at the clock tower again. 8:29 still. "Well, we're both a minute early, but I'm here, and not getting tackled by guards." After saying that, the colt looked about rather anxiously. "At least not yet anyway..." Steelmane rolled his eyes. "Lighten up kid. You really think I'd go back on a Pinkie swear?" Sugar Buzz considered the thought for a second. Several flashbacks of guards knocking his front door almost entirely off its hinges came to mind. "Well, as many times as you and your goons caved in my front door, I'm really not too sure, but I'll roll with it anyways." The commander chuckled to himself. The clock tower bell rang eight times to signify the hour, then a shortened ring to signify a half hour. The commander stomped his hoof twice on the ground, stirring up small clouds of dust. "Eight and a half, boys and girls! Get out here!" Steelmane shouted. Ponies began climbing out of various spots on the three buildings that made up the alleyway, nothing more than large black silhouettes that moved with ease on the side of a wall, hopping down to the road off the tops of jutting windows, or climbing out of dumpsters that looked full to the untrained eye. They all assembled around the commander and his companion in a sort of lazy circle, slowly walking about. Sugar Buzz nervously glanced at each one of the shadowy figures as they continued circling him and Steelmane. His mind was just screaming run, run, but his body wasn't responding so well. "Uh... Sir? Should we run now?" the colt asked. The commander simply shook his head, then adjusted his cap. "Enough with the silhouette march, guys, you're scaring the poor kid." he said sternly. A loud pop rang out and orange-tinted lighting suddenly filled the alleyway. The power had returned to the street lamps, due in great part to a mare sitting next to a switch box on the nearby power pole. She wore cylindrical goggles with reflective lenses. Even bathed in orange light, Sugar Buzz could tell her coat was pink. Her mane and tail were ridiculously puffy, like cotton candy. "Heya Sugar Rush!" she called down to Steelmane's companion, waving frantically. The commander eyed the mare like she was out of her mind, which most would assume she is. Sugar Buzz instantly recognized the overly perky voice. "It's Pinkie's nickname for me. I'd just roll with it." he explained. Steelmane kicked a pebble across the ground before looking about himself. "Best not stay out here any longer. The guards won't take too kindly to their commanding officer talking with a bunch of slum-runners who may or may not have warrants out for their arrest." He took off his cap and felt the inside of the headband as he walked over to an old cellar door. Steelmane brought a key out of the hat and opened the padlock that held the door shut, promptly swinging the rickety door open after doing so. He motioned for his colleagues to go in quickly. Once Sugar Buzz stepped inside, the commander shut the door and closed the padlock around a chain on a loop in the stairwell. This wasn't a cellar as it had first appeared to be. Instead, it was an independent room all its own, cleverly disguised to blend in as the basement for the bar above, fully insulated and furnished with wooden tables, cushioned chairs, a radio, and several decorative light fixtures and paintings. It felt like home to Sugar Buzz, which helped to calm his nerves. A blue stallion approached him. "So you're the lad Mister Steelmane's told me about. Name's Trott. Don't call me 'Trotty', otherwise I'll be seein' you out meself. Nice makin' your acquaintance lad!" The stallion spoke with a thick Trottish accent, and had a rather short beard. He was dressed in black like the rest, but carried a pair of saddlebags stuffed to bursting with ginger ale, cider, and several sets of mugs and glasses all wrapped in bubble wrap. He didn't shave often, as evidenced by his rather thick beard. The two bumped hooves and Trott turned about and began placing the glassware on the tables that dotted the room. Sugar Buzz let his eyes wander about the room a little more, until they came to rest on a familiar grey mare. "Octavia?" he thought aloud. The cellist glanced at him momentarily, then resumed unpacking her instrument. Talk about an interesting day. First I learn that Steelmane knows the Pinkie swear, now I see Octavia in a cellar club? What next, Applejack doing backflips? Tink, tink, tink! The sound of metal against glassware rang through the room. Steelmane stood next to one of the tables, wielding his sword in one hoof, and a mug in the other, waiting until the room fell silent. "Well, good to see everypony's here! Now, I'm sure all of you met our newest addition to the Outcasts Club, a kid named Sugar Buzz." Several ponies nodded their heads. "Good, good. Now, we all have one thing in common. Oh hay bales, I forgot it... Can anypony here remind me what it was we have in common?" "That we all can't stand Stalwart's crap!" spat a yellow mare. "YEAH!" they all cried in unison. "That Stalwart's a racist bastard who thinks awful high of himself!" added a green stallion. Again the cry came. "YEAH!" The commander stood there, still as a statue with a smug grin on his face as ponies left and right shouted the reasons they had for disliking their leader. Their unanimous cry was like a choir to his ears, and was part of the reason he started this club, to have a spot for ponies to speak out against the dictator that ran their city without being suspended by the nearest guard. Kicking out ponies like them for having wings or a horn? That's not right. Killing a pony with wings and a horn? That's downright unacceptable! Everypony here could agree on that. Steelmane finally brought his sword down onto the table, embedding the blade in the shoddy wood. "Then whadya say we have a few drinks?! They're on the house!" A cheer rose up from the whole group, several pops and the clinking of glasses following suit. The musicians gathered their instruments and began playing a lively, rowdy tune to keep the mood pleasant. Steelmane leaned back in his chair, a mug of cider held high and tightly in his hoof. "To the Outcasts!" he shouted. Chapter 3 - Learn from your mistakes...It was a beautiful afternoon in the city. The birds sang their sweet melodies as they flew through the sky, the bees frequented the flowers that colored the streets and walls, and ponies went about their business, greeting each other in a friendly manner as they trotted about with hardly a care. Earth's Haven marketplace, always the busiest part of the city throughout the day with stalls being crowded by ponies of all shapes and sizes, all with bits to spend on the first exotic item they can get their hooves on, was the crown jewel of the city whose name it shared. A grey mare was trotting along the road pushing a cart weighed down by a set of speakers, two suitcases, and a cello case to a spot nearby the market. She was flanked by two others who, to the untrained eye, were coincidentally walking the same direction as her. In all reality, they were following her to her destination. The only stallion of the trio walked closer to the grey mare. "Octavia, are you sure we should be doing this? Steelmane's gonna tan our hides if he finds out what we're doing!" he whispered, worry lacing his tone. "Calm down Trott. Steelmane won't know if he isn't here to see what we're doing. The guards'll be changing shifts soon, so we'd best do this quickly." Octavia's expression remained unchanged as she continued on down the street. "I hope you're right Octy..." Trott walked further away to blend with the crowd. Not much time passed before Octavia found the spot she wanted, which was in front of a bookstore and a music shop that sat further inward than the rest of the buildings around them. Octavia began setting up her equipment casually. She was using a street performance as cover for something more devious... The other mare of the group, Carrot Top, walked past where Octavia stood, waiting for her cue. The grey mare turned and nodded at her. That was the signal. Carrot quickened her pace slightly as she made for the market center. Trott was next in the sequence. He walked up to Octavia, and asked if she needed help. Octavia agreed, stating she was having trouble hooking up the speakers, which was when Trott was meant to hook up an acoustics detector that was programmed to wirelessly trigger a device that Carrot Top was just now placing on the statue of the city's leader. It was disguised as a large vase containing a flower bouquet with a plaque that read "To honor our glorious leader" on the side of the vase. It was a blatant lie. All of the equipment was in place, now came Octavia's part in the scheme. She flipped through her music sheet until she found her composed piece, then began playing. It was a rather sad, somewhat quickly-paced tune. The cellist's expression was that of frustratrion the whole time she played. In the market center, the detonator for the explosives packed within the vase lit up, concealed by the false soil and flowers that were lodged in the top. Passersby were watching Octavia as she played on, sometimes depositing bits into the shoebox next to her. This was it. Two more measures of music. She had just gotten to the final note of her song, which sounded like a low, drawn out hum, just as guards were walking past to change shifts. Finally the cellist finished playing. Here it comes... BOOOM!! The explosion rang out from the market, and ponies started panicking and running about. The guards who were walking back to the barracks suddenly turned about and began galloping towards the market center, having dropped their weapons before reaching the unstable statue. "What was that?" asked Octavia, feigning confusion. "Something just blew up!" "What?!" "Stalwart's Statue! I-it's gonna fall" cried one of the guards. "EVERYPONY RUN!!" The statue began to topple forward into the street, landing with the heavy crack of stone against stone pavement. The plaque that adorned the vase was lodged in the side of a nearby building, with its true message visible now "To our tyrant, Stalwart Shield: wake up and smell the flowers, you stuck-up bastard. Stalwart sat back in his chair while the television in front of him showed news footage of his statue being destroyed by an explosion. The TV screen flashed and faded quickly to black. "The lengths some ponies go to have others hear them... If they're tearing down one of my statues, then whomever's doing this could very well be at my throat before too long." he said, raising his eyebrows. The aged pony stood up from his chair and opened the large curtains that blocked out the sun from his room, allowing large sloped beams of light to pour through the windows. "I smell the putrid stench of revolution...." he said, each word dripping with hatred. "Mister Shield?" "GAH!" Stalwart whipped around with his hoof against his chest and his back against the wall, only to find Commander Steelmane standing in front of him. "For the love of nature man! Announce yourself beforehoof! Nearly gave me a heart attack." "Sorry about that sir. One of my guardponies said you wanted to see me earlier?" Steelmane asked casually. Stalwart did remember asking to see the guard commander some time ago. "Yes, yes... I sent for you earlier." the old stallion said softly. "Very well. I'm here. Now, what did you need me for Mister Shield?" the commander asked. "Commander." Stalwart said, his calm tone returning. "Yes sir?" "I feel an uprising is starting to rear its ugly head. I want it stopped, commander." "Umm... Sir?" "The madsteeds destroyed one of my statues!" "Stalwart, I don't think-" started the commander. Stalwart stopped him and turned the TV back on. The news coverage of the explosion played again, and once the plaque bearing the message directed at Stalwart showed, the screen went dark again. The commander stood there, gawking. "Now do you see?! There's a revolutionist waltzing about on the streets of my city, and he's bound to be at my throat before long! I need you to hunt this cur down, and ensure he hangs!" Stalwart spat. The commander hesitated, but nodded and quickly trotted out the door. Knowing one of his cohorts might have done this could very well put the Outcasts in danger, so he had to make sure this, or anything like it, didn't happen twice. As he continued along the corridor, he thought over which member would go so far as to set up a bomb to demolish a landmark meant to honor a dictator who passed himself off as a righteous leader, fair and just. He already knew it wasn't Sugar Buzz... Pinkie was crazy, but she wasn't that crazy. Maybe it was Trott, who had by far the worst grudge against Stalwart Shield. Could he have done it alone? No, no... He'd need help. The commander had no choice but to hold a meeting in the false cellar to find who did it. The sound of muttering snapped Steelmane out of his thought process. Oh buck me... Why him of all ponies? The pony Steelmane was referring to was a hunter who retired due to having a timber wolf slash across his aiming eye during a struggle, and always seemed to go a little bit nutty if Steelmane was nearby, claiming he could smell something that "didn't belong". The only reason Stalwart kept this stallion in the force was because of his keen nose. He could track down a pegasus, unicorn, or mutant by smell. Unfortunately for Steelmane, that meant he could smell any of those races on him, though the scent of pegasi was the most prominent. The commander gave the hunter's doorway a wide berth before galloping off towards the atrium. The false cellar was packed full of Outcast members. Steelmane was livid, pacing back and forth with his sword held like a cane while everypony else sat in silence. The commander finally stopped pacing and spun his sword upright in his hoof, holding it straight up. He took a sharp breath in through his nostrils. "Alright. I'm not in the best of moods right now, so you'd best pipe up if you know who it was. Who in the name of Stalwart had the gall to go and BLOW UP A STATUE IN BROAD BUCKING DAYLIGHT?! Do you know how many ponies could've been killed by that? Again, who did it?!" "I told ya he was goin' t' be cross, Octy." Trott whispered. "Trott! Octavia! Both of you up here, NOW." The two guilty ponies hurriedly trotted up to where the commander stood. Steelmane scanned the crowd, then brought his glare back to the pair standing in front of him. "Who else was with you?" "Carrot top was with us, Mister Steelmane sir... We had her place the explosives." Octavia answered reluctantly. Steelmane pointed the tip of his sword at the orange-haired mare, and she rushed up to stand with the other two guilty ponies. Steelmane eyed each one for a moment. He took in a deep breath. "You do realize pulling a stunt like that could have Stalwart's guards kicking in our doors within the next hour, right?" The commander's tone was suddenly even again, though anger still laced each of his words. All three ponies nodded slowly. "And if we start striking earlier than we should, it's going to make things harder for us later, right?" Again the three ponies nodded. Steelmane sighed. "I don't know whether I should commend you or convict you three for pulling that. That took guts, but now just isn't the time. We need time to build a decent size force before we break Shield's back... Dismissed." said the commander before sheathing his sword. After everypony was back in their places, Steelmane called for everyone's attention. "Because of the oh-so-bold move carried out by our three warmongers, the old bastard's jumpy. He's ordered those responsible to be strung up at the edge of the city should they be found." Several ponies started to panic. "Wait, what?!" "Is he outta his gourd?" Several more panicked remarks followed before Steelmane unsheathed his sword and chopped it into the edge of the table. Everyone fell silent. "You heard me. The dictator's gonna hang one of his own for putting on a fireworks show. Now, I'll have to wait a while before I can tell him the pony responsible hoofed it to the forest. He'll probably fall for it and tell me not to follow, so the gates'll have more guards afterwards, but that means a few less on the inside." With that out of the way, the commander called for a round of drinks to lighten up the mood and get everybody's mind off of Stalwart's newly imposed threat. He figured they could all use a breather, especially the ones who just got the brunt of his frustration. He was the one who needed that breather the most after today... Another move like that, and his superior would be searching every nook and cranny for the Outcasts. Knowing Stalwart as well as he did, the old codger would eventually calm down, and things would go back to normal. He wouldn't forget what happened, but he'd calm down. Chapter 3.5 - ReminiscingIt was a warm afternoon and the sun was still sitting directly above Earth's Haven. Business was at its peak for a pub called The Cider Barrel located against the wall in the eastern corner of the city. Inside, a mare with a plum coat and raspberry colored mane was feverishly cleaning the counter. She always thought a thoroughly cleaned counter would bring about more customers if the building itself didn't. Once she was satisfied with the glossy shine of the smooth wood, the mare returned to serving tall mugs of only the finest cider, the kind that she figured only ponies who had a discerning taste could truly enjoy. The soft ring of the bell above the double doors caught her attention, and she instantly recognized the stallion walking into the bar. He was a regular customer here who told enough hunting stories to fill a book or two. Deadeye was his name, not because of his now defunct right eye, but the fact that he used to be a crack shot whenever he went hunting, and to this day holds the record for the highest number of mutants exterminated. Now he's just an experienced hunter with a keen nose that serves in the guard force for the city. "The regular draft Mister Deadeye?" asked the mare as the ex-hunter sat down at the end of the counter. He nodded. The bartender tossed a mug into the air, deftly catching it and spinning about on one hoof like a ballerina as she poured cider into it. She set the pitcher back on the shelf behind her and proceeded to slide the mug down to Deadeye as she was juggling three cherries with her opposite hoof. With one swift, fluid motion, she tossed the cherries towards the still sliding mug before picking up a wooden skewer mid-spin and throwing it like a tiny javelin, impaling all three of the tiny fruit, the whole assortment landing straight in the mug with a small splash before it was stopped by the intended recipient. The stallion chuckled. Berry Punch, the only pony skilled in the art of flashy cider service. She sauntered over to Deadeye, and leaned on the counter with a gleam in her eyes. "Soooo... what's the word today Mister D?" The guard raised an eyebrow, and stopped drinking from his mug. He looked around to see a crowd had built up around him, all with expectant grins on their faces. They wanted to hear one of his tales of his hunting days. Deadeye took a sizeable swig from his cider and breathed a defeated sigh. "Alright then. You want a story? I'll give ya one then." he said. He rubbed his forehead for a second. "Ah! I've got one..." Snowcap Plains, 19 years ago "Hey Deadeye! I'll bet ye can't shoot this wee little can off ma head without scalpin' me!" Trott shouted. He was a great distance away from the hunting group, and had a discarded tin can mounted on top of his head. "Hey, get a load o' Trotty all the way over there." said a light tan pony with an Irish accent as he gently elbowed his companion. Deadeye looked up from his map and followed the direction of the tan pony's hoof to find Trott jumping up and down waving one of his forelegs in the air. "Alright, what's the Scot on about this time?" he asked impatiently. "From what I'm hearin', I'm s'posin' he wants ya to shoot somethin' offa his head." "You can't be serious..." the marksman said. "Oh come on, he's doin' it to have a little bit o' fun. We been marching for hours, and we ain't found a single mutant sulkin' 'round these parts. All we seen is white, white, an' more white. Just humor the poor bastard, will ya?" Deadeye huffed, blowing a small cloud of steam from his nostrils. "Fine." He folded up the map and reached for his rifle. Three seconds to set up. Deadeye dropped to the ground after pulling his rifle from the sling on his back. He brought the bolt back and inserted the magazine into its slot with a soft click before shoving the bolt forward and down, then brought the scope to his eye. Through it, he could see Trott's idiotic grin whenever he stopped spouting nonsense for a moment. Two seconds to line up the shot. The crosshairs were fixed on a small cylindrical object on top of the Scotspony's head. A simple little tin can. Mere child's play for the marksman. One to pull the trigger. The object flew off of Trott's head, and he almost fell backwards in a panic. He found his footing again before looking back behind him, then back towards the group with a dumbfounded look on his face. Deadeye chuckled. He hadn't seen the Scot this surprised since the time he woke up wearing makeup after a night of hard partying at the bar. "Alright Trott! You got me to shoot a can off your head, now get your flank back over here, we got mutants to hunt!" Deadeye shouted to the Scot as he was trotting towards the group. The Snowcap Forest was coming up in the distance, where mutants were said to have been hiding for the past several weeks now. That was the destination of interest for the group, though it would have to wait. Nightfall was coming fast, and they all needed to set up camp and rest anyway. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A half-ring of tents sat around a slowly dying fire, having been set up just an hour before night fell over the land. The Irish pony leaned forward from his seat and poked some of the logs in the fire with a rod, moving them slightly to keep the fire, the group's only source of light and heat, burning. His coat looked almost golden in the glow of the flames. Trott sauntered out of his tent, his forehooves in the pockets of his jacket. "How's the fire treatin' ya Irish?" The pony tending the fire just shrugged. He had his coat wrapped around himself like a blanket as he sat on a rock. The Scottish pony settled onto one of the stools that stood near the fire pit, and the two just sat there in silence a few moments before Trott finally spoke. "You've been awful quiet since we set up camp. Somethin' in your side lad?" Irish didn't respond. Trott brought his gaze back to the fire. "Timber wolves." Irish finally said softly. "What?" "Timber wolves, Trott. I can smell 'em from here, and that means we're gettin' a little too close to their territ'ry." "Oh quit worryin' lad. We got oil and a few lighters. When we're done with 'em, they'll be called 'cinder wolves'!" Trott bust out laughing at his own little joke. "This isn't a joke Trott! Them timber wolves'll catch wind o' us before long, and when they do, I'm doing the smart thing and runnin' for me life!" Irish spat. Deadeye peeked out of his tent. "Hey what's all the noise over?" he asked. "Ah ol' Irish here's yammerin' about us being close to timberwolf territory. I say he's gettin' jumpy." explained Trott. "This nose hasn't lied to me yet, and I know the stink of timberwolf when I smells it!" Irish snapped again. Deadeye looked west, towards the Snowcap Forest. The forest wasn't too far off, and he knew cold weather didn't affect timber wolves. He looked back towards his bickering companions who were practically at each others' throats at this point. Deadeye rushed out between the two, pushing them apart with his forehooves. "Now hang on a second!" he said. No use, the two were already on the verge of violence. "You're just yella! Ya don't have the guts to hunt down a mutant, Irish!" Trott snapped. "Guys, will you-" "So says the Scotsman who jumps whenever he shoots his own damn gun! I says I'm right and we turn tail now while we still got 'em!" Irish spat back. "Guys-" "And I say we keep goin' the way we're goin' so we can drill a round through-" "SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!!" Deadeye shouted angrily. The arguing stopped instantly. "Look, we're not going to flip our lids over a bunch of living twigs with bad breath. If push comes to shove, we can go with Trott's suggestion and burn them, but other than that, we focus on turning a mutant's head into swiss cheese and picking off whatever's valuable." The marksman gave both of his companions a pat on the shoulder and headed back to his tent. Trott and Irish scowled at each other before following suit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...And I says ta him, 'sure ya can talk tough, but are ya tough?' I tell ya that stallion never came at me cross again." Irish finished a tale he was telling. "So that's how you lost yer tooth? Ya got in a bar fight?" Trott asked. "Yup. But I can't say I swung first." Irish said slyly. "Oh? And why's that Irish?" "Cause I didn't! Me hoof did!" Trott started laughing before starting up a tale of his own as the group trekked through the forest. Deadeye pulled out the creased map of Snowcap Forest and scanned over it. His eyes stopped on the thick red circle that marked where ponies said they saw mutants the most, then on one of the landmarks next to it. Seawash Ring. The marksman turned to look behind himself. Sure enough, the ring of stone wasn't too far off, and that meant they were getting close. "Irish, Trott, stow it. Just up ahead is where mutants should be hiding, so if we want one dead, we need to keep quiet." Deadeye said flatly. "Gotcha." Trott quipped. No answer from Irish. "Irish?" The marksman was about to turn around when he saw a flash of tan streaking through the bushes. Irish was already on the prowl. Above the shrubbery, a proud horn lightly bounced up and down as its owner pranced about, unaware it was being hunted. Neither Deadeye nor Trott could see the tan coat of their Irish cohort anymore, save for subtle hints as to where he was by rustling leaves, so they followed the bouncing horn instead. "YAAAAHH!!" In a flash, Irish flung himself down onto the unfortunate creature beneath him and began furiously stabbing away at his victim. The other hunters just watched as the horn swung back and forth erratically before it finally fell out of view and the sound of steel plunging in and out of flesh ceased. "Irish?" Deadeye called worriedly. No answer. "Irish?!" Again, no answer. "What happened to keepin' quiet, sharpshot?" Irish asked calmly. "AAAH!" "EYAA! Sweet fires o' Tartaurus Irish, how long've ya been standin' there?!" Trott asked, still scared out of his wits. "Oh, I dunno... A second?" He snickered a little at his friends' reactions. "Oh, that reminds me! I got ya both a present from me travels! No returns, yeah?" Irish said as he hoisted a corpse up next to him. Its head lolled about with each jerk and shove. "Damn... And I thought Trott was the violent one!" the marksman quipped. "Oh yeah, I'm nasty, but I never cracked a bastard's neck when I get in a fight." Trott said, visibly scared of his tan-colored cohort now. "But, that aside, we-... I mean Irish bagged a mutant for our troubles, so we best start shavin' it." Present day "Whoa whoa whoa. What do you mean by 'shave' the mutant, cyclops?" one of the bar goers piped up in the middle of the story. The guard brought a hoof to his forehead. "When a mutant hunter says they're gonna 'shave' their kill, it means they cut off whatever's worth a pretty penny here in the city. Now zip it if you want to hear the rest." Deadeye explained. Earth's Haven border forest, 19 years ago Irish was smiling the whole way to the city, carrying saddlebags full of the valuable parts they cut off of their kill. He was counting the bits in his head as he trotted ahead of his companions. "So Irish, what exactly do ya think we'll be gettin' when we sell the shavings?" Trott asked. "Let's see... Th' horn goes for a hundred, the feathers are a bit a pound, and, if I'm recallin' right, the hide goes for seventy-two. We got three pounds o' feathers, so three bits there. We're gonna have a hundred and seventy-five bits from this 'un." Irish announced proudly. The three of them began contemplating what they'd do with their cut of the profits. Trott had his sights set on heading to one of the most revered pubs in Earth's Haven and having a few rounds of cider there, whereas Irish was intent on getting a personalized knife for future hunts. Deadeye was considering getting a barrel mod or a new scope for his rifle. Suddenly Irish stopped dead in his tracks. "What's wrong Irish? You just realize that's more money than what you get at that dead-end job of yours?" Deadeye joked. "Deadeye, we been followed home..." Irish's voice dripped with great concern. "Pff, yeah. By Trott." the marksman joked again. "Can't ya smell 'em?!" "Irish, what in-" Deadeye cut himself short. He could smell something rancid, and it smelled close. "Timberwolves." "What's gotten inta you two? First we're talkin' about cash, now we're-" "Trott, we can discuss that later. Right now, run!" the marksman ordered. "But-" "SHUT UP AND RUN!!" Deadeye yelled, just as a pack of wooden creatures burst forth from the bushes that flanked the sides of the trail. The trio bolted towards the city gates as fast as they could muster, hoping that they'd get close enough for the guards to take notice and help stave off the beasts. "RAAAWR!" One of the timberwolves pounced on the marksman, pinning him to the ground beneath its splintery front paws. "Deadeye!" Irish yelled. "KEEP RUNNING! I'm dog chow anyway!" "Not on my watch, ya aren't!" Trott and Irish rushed the beast that had their friend pinned, but were quickly surrounded by the remaining wolves. "Okay, I guess ya are... We'll get help, I can promise ya that lad!" Trott assured Deadeye before he and Irish ran for the gates. Deadeye watched as his friends ran to safety, then brought his gaze back up to the glowing green dots on his assailant's muzzle. "I'm not going that easy you overgrown twig!" he said before spitting in the wolf's eye. It began furiously swiping at his face as he held the beast at a distance with his back hooves. This tactic seemed to be working, but as he looked around, Deadeye could see his time was growing shorter every second as the other timberwolves were slowly closing in on him. If he survived, this'd make one hell of a story. Just as he turned to look at his initial attacker, he felt its claws slash across his right eye. Deadeye kicked the wolf off of him as he was screaming in agony, rolling onto his side and covering his still-bleeding wound with his forehooves. "This is it. The part where I die..." Tears welled up in his good eye as he braced for the killing blow from his attackers. KAPOW! The sound of a rifle rang out, and one of the wooden wolves suddenly had a gaping hole in its head as the beast fell to the ground in pieces. A second shot rang out, and another wolf fell in half. The rest of the timberwolves saw they were getting picked off and fled with their stick tails between their stick legs. Present day The crowd still sat around the aged pony with stares of admiration so intense, it was almost like they were trying to see if they could talk him into telling another tale, though that wasn't likely to happen. Deadeye downed his fifth mug of cider and looked about. "And that's how I got this fancy scar." he said before finishing off his fifth mug of cider. He looked about for a moment. "I assume you're all still staring at me because you want to hear another one of my trips down memory lane, correct?" The other bar goers nodded. "Well too bad." he got up and sauntered towards the door. A reporter just happened to walk through the door and stopped Deadeye in his tracks. "Uh, pardon me thir! I'm a reporter for the Gathelle, the local paper, and I'd like to interview you. Em, what'th your name?" The reporter spoke with a lisp, and wore square-rimmed glasses that had a bent paperclip in place of one of the screws accompanied with a fedora that had several holes in it, not from bullets of course. "It's Deadeye. Now what do you want?" Deadeye asked, slightly annoyed. "Ah! Mithter Deadeye! I've got theveral quethtionth I wanna athk you thir!" The disgruntled guard facehooved. "Pick ONE, and only one! I'm not planning on staying here longer than I want to." "Okay." The reporter put a hoof to his chin for a moment. "I wanna know how you can pick out a pegathuth jutht by thmell. How do you do that? I'd like to know how to thniff out one of 'em if they get inthide the thity!" Deadeye grabbed the colt by his polka-dot bowtie and pulled him close. "They. Smell. Like. SPICES." he said each word through clenched teeth before shoving the colt aside and briskly trotting through the door. Chapter 1 - Silent displeasureA week had passed since the execution, and many ponies still celebrated as if it had just happened, singing jolly, off-key tunes in the nearest pub with mugs of strong cider in their hooves while others, like Applejack, carried on like nothing happened, paying no mind to the drunk ponies who invited her to join them for a few rounds of cider. She didn't want to take part in such things before attending the sermon at the Cathedral of Mother Nature today, so she kept her eyes fixed on the ground beneath her hooves. Thump! "Ow... Hey wat-" Applejack caught herself before she finished that line, scrunching her muzzle in embarrassment. She had bumped into Stalwart Shield's second-in-command, Commander Steelmane. And she, being nothing more than a regular citizen, was going to tell Commander Steelmane, of all ponies, to watch where he was going? She wasn't one to disrespect a stallion of the law. "Erm... W-what ah meant to say was I'm sorry sir." The commander rolled his eyes, then leaned closer to the small orange pony and pushed up the brim of his cap. "You know, you don't always have to be so formal Applejack. If you want to tell me off, then tell me off. You're not gonna get locked up just for doing that you know." he said with a demeanor as calm as a lake. He was unusually tall for a pony, with a silver coat and an almost black mane. He kept a sword with him, always on his left side because he was right-hoof dominant, and his uniform naturally was slightly more extravagant than that of the various guards stationed around Earth's Haven because of his higher rank, though still retained the standard colors. "Commander, ah ain't gonna do that regardless o' whether or not ah get locked up, not to a stallion of the law." Applejack said firmly. Steelmane sighed. "AJ, you've got to be the most stubborn pony I know. Hell, probably even more so than Stalwart Shield. Once he gets his mind on something, you can't change it, kinda like you." The commander stood up to his full height and adjusted his cap back to its prior position. "Now about your friend." AJ facehooved. There was always somepony who brought up Sugar Buzz. "He hasn't gotten into trouble if that's what you're thinking. He's a good kid, really. Now, reason I brought him up is 'cause when I came back from my trip outside last week, I saw you and him arguing. What was that about?" "It was about why we gotta kill them mutants. Ah tell ya, they ain't no better than fleas, the lot of 'em... And he's asking why we gotta kill 'em? We gotta follow what Nature intended and weed her garden, 'cept the weeds are the mutants, and the garden's the world, ya know?" The commander placed an assuring hoof on her shoulder. "I'll try and talk a little sense into him if that's what you're getting at." "Best you do sir. That boy's gonna start a riot if'n' he gets the chance." she growled. "Now, I wouldn't say that. Sure, he might say a few things to the wrong person, but I don't think the riot'll be started intentionally by him." "Now, before you go sir, ah got a question. What did you mean by 'when you came back'?" "I wasn't in the city during the execution last week that's all." "You sayin' ya left the walls of the city? Commander, out there's nothin' but mutants and them other freaks what don't belong anywhere NEAR this city!" Steelmane felt a lecture coming, but his expression didn't change. He studied the dress she was wearing while she continued her rant, then finally piped up when she stopped to catch her breath. "Don't you have a sermon to attend?" Applejack jumped to her hooves in a panic. "Aw hay bales, yer right! Ah'm gonna be late!" she cried before galloping off. Steelmane chuckled to himself. That's the third lecture today that he's thwarted, only eleven shy of his record. Looks like I've got a pony to find then. Sugar Buzz was laying on his couch with a controller in his hooves, enthusiastically playing Parasprite Panic. He held the highest score on the arcade version, mainly because everypony else wasn't that good at it. It was still a rather new form of entertainment, these video games, so even Sugar Buzz had trouble with it now and again. Now and again while playing, his mind flashed back to last week, mainly when his character fell into the pitfalls. He wasn't too fond of having to see executions like the one just last week, and he didn't take too kindly to Stalwart Shield now and again, but followed his laws regardless to avoid being locked in a cell for whatever period of time the city leader felt appropriate. A knock came at his door just as his character died for the umpteenth time. "GAH! Coming!" he said, punching the pause button. He trotted over to the window next to his front door and peered through it. He saw a guard in full armor padding holding a spear that was blunted with thick cloth wrapping, and next to that guard stood Commander Steelmane. He groaned, but proceeded to unlock all three locks that kept his door closed to the public. The commander had a pleasant smile on his face, though to Sugar Buzz, it felt as pleasant as the smile of a shark. The guard accompanying Steelmane stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Mister Buzz, the commander would like a word wit-" Sugar Buzz held up a hoof to stop him. "Now, hold that thought. Before you rattle on any further, did the cowpoke send you?" "I-I'm sorry?" asked the guard. "I think he means Miss Applejack, Padlock." stated the commander. "Ah. Um, no she didn't sir." "Alright. Just thought I'd ask, since every other time you two are at my door, it's because of her. Please, come on in. You were probably going to anyway." Sugar Buzz stepped aside. Padlock started to step inside, but was stopped by the commander. "Padlock, I'd like a word with Mister Buzz in private, please." "Of course sir." He stepped over in front of the window and turned to face the street, while Steelmane stepped inside the house, ducking slightly to avoid to hitting his head against the top of the doorframe due to his height. Sugar Buzz shut the door behind him and casually trotted back to his spot on the couch. Steelmane sat down in the nearby recliner, smoothing out his uniform before leaning forward and setting his cap on the table in front of him. "Sugar Buzz, nice seeing you again." "Uh-huh." Sugar Buzz grunted. The pair sat in silence for a while. It was like waiting in a hospital lobby, except without the smell of sickness and the moldy, outdated magazines. The young colt turned off the TV, but left the game system running as he normally did when occupied with something else for a short time. Steelmane shifted in his seat, thinking about how he was going to word his offer to the colt. He didn't want Padlock coming in and making things harder than they already were, what with the colt's displeasure. "So Applejack-" began the commander. Sugar Buzz raised a hoof ."Aaaand I'm gonna stop you there. You just told me that you weren't sent here by AJ, yet you're already bringing her up. What's this got to do with her?" "I was just going to say I ended up running into her this morning while she was on her way to a sermon. We talked a bit, then she brought up an argument you two had a week back after the execution." Steelmane stated. "Oh yeah. Honestly I still think I won that one, 'cause she made an excuse about having to do something back home or something like that, and then ran off." "I've got an offer for you." "An offer? But-" Sugar Buzz started. But the commander stopped him and set a folded piece of paper on the coffee table in front of both of them. "Meet me at the Moonlight Bushel." "The Moonlight Bushel? Sir, I'm nowhere near the drinking age!" "I didn't say we were going for drinks." the commander stated coolly. This confused the colt further. "When you get to the Moonlight Bushel, look for a cellar door around the back. I wrote the instructions on how to get in on that scrap of paper. Don't come before 8:30 at night." And with that said, Steelmane got up and left without saying anything more.
PrologueA large group of earth ponies were gathering in the square of the city, casually sauntering to the riser seats surrounding a large stone pedestal that rested directly in front of the city hall. It bore no glorified statue of the proud founder of the city or of a historic event, instead bearing chains and shackles that snaked across its feather-laden surface. The citizens talked amongst each other, some about rumors they had heard, others about which store had the best supplies, and others still of things that had no real importance whatsoever. A loud whine was heard from the aged speakers on the flag poles that flanked either side of the entrance to city hall and all the crowd went silent. "Citizens of Earth's Haven! I have called you all here to witness the trial of a monster caught within our walls, whose horrid figure bears the horn of the devil horse and the wings of a dragon! This mutant sought asylum in our walls, but we shall not live among such filth so long as your leader, Stalwart Shield, watches over this city." As the city's leader continued, a creature was led by four guards. Two of which held chains leading to a collar around its neck, while the other two wielded batons in case it decided to try and break free from the pair that was leading it to the city square. When the group reached the pedestal, the shackles laying about on it were closed around the creature's ankles with loud clanks. Stalwart Shield, the city leader, stepped out onto the balcony of the city hall, high above the square. Many citizens cheered upon his arrival while others stayed quiet. All of them knew what was to come. The loudspeakers whined once again as the proud leader prepared to speak. "Each day, we are plagued by monsters and mutants that threaten to tarnish our perfect society!" The guards on the pedestal violently tackled the creature, pinning it to the ground, ignoring its cries for mercy. "One stands before us this very day. They believe themselves better than us, better than nature's design!" Two of the guards began furiously ripping clumps of feathers off the creature's wings as the other two kept it pinned. "We will prove that no creature is above what nature intends." A shaky, middle-aged mare approached the microphone next to Stalwart Shield clutching a piece of paper in her hooves. She was almost on the verge of tears. She regained her composure as best as she could, adjusted her glasses, and cleared her throat. "This... Mutant is charged with crimes against the design of nature, as well as threatening to corrupt the minds and bodies of these uh... untainted denizens of the city known as Earth's Haven. The punishment is... Oh god why... Cleansing through means of public execution. Final verdict, as... decided by the people?" she said, silently praying the ponies in the stands wouldn't say the creature was guilty, for somepony to speak out against this trial. Her prayers were crushed when a unanimous cry of "Guilty!" rang from the stands, soon followed by chants of "Hang the mutant! Hang the mutant!". The mare looked down at the floor underneath her hooves, tears welling up in her eyes. She practically shoved the piece of paper she was meant to read into Stalwart Shield's hooves and galloped off sobbing. "As decided by the people, the mutant will be cleansed through execution! Prepare the gallows!" Stalwart announced proudly. The guards, having finished tearing all the feathers off the beast's wings, unlocked the shackles that kept the beast chained to the pedestal and dragged it by the collar around its neck to the edge of the city, where the gallows stood in the light of the setting sun. The captive creature saw its destination, and began frantically clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to get free. "No, no please! I don't want to die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!" Again, the guards ignored its cries. After a short bit of struggling, the guards managed to attach the gallows' chain to the loop on the collar and jumped back before the trapdoor opened underneath the mutant, sending it plummeting to its death, screaming all the way and flapping its now useless wings as it fell. Several moments passed before the chain finally snapped taut. A roar of cheering rose from the crowd once again. Much of the crowd had returned to their homes, and the guards had returned to their posts. There were still a few denizens that stayed behind, but they were mainly talking with others near the local pubs and inns. One pony, a light brown colt wearing small square glasses and a dark green hoodie stood near the gallows, staring at the chain, a remorseful expression on his face. He stepped closer to the edge and kicked a small stone off, watching it as it fell. His eyes drifted to the hanging corpse and he quickly looked back up. "They shouldn't have to kill another pony just because they've got a horn or wings." he muttered. "Ah'd stow that kinda talk if ah were you." said another pony. The colt turned around to see an orange mare with a blonde mane wearing a Stetson standing behind him. She didn't look pleased. "Tell me something sugarcube. Do you want to get locked up for sidin' with them mutants? I wouldn't waste a second in gettin' you turned in." "Applejack, think about it. Those 'mutants', as folks like you so fondly call them, wouldn't be here if it wasn't intended by this 'nature's design' crap." he said. The mare closed the distance between them, quickly coming face-to-face with the colt. "Now you listen here ya ungrateful little punk, those mutants ain't nothing more than dirt stains on nature's boots. We're here for a reason, and that reason is to live off the land and kill off whatever nature says ain't fit to live on this world. Those mutants ain't fit to live on this world, so we kill 'em. That's it." said Applejack sternly. "I don't care! Those ponies are here-" "Those things sure as hay ain't ponies, Sugar Buzz." she said, her expression unchanged. "Regardless, they're here, living and breathing like us, and we just have to kill them?! What good does that do for us? Tell me what good it does us besides 'keeping us ponies and our city from gettin' dirtied up by them mutants'. Go on." "Why, it does quite a few good things fer us ponies. Fer one, no more mutants stealing our crops. Then there's less worry of an invasion. Finally... Uh..." Applejack scratched her head, trying to think of other reasons. "Only one reason stated and you're already losin' steam AJ." mused Sugar Buzz. "No ah'm not! There was something else and ah'm just tryin' to remember it is all." Applejack snapped. Sugar Buzz wasn't convinced. The mare looked up at the clock tower. "Aw hayseeds... Look, ah'd love to keep chattin' with ya on this, but I got... uh... some crops back home what need harvestin' and all that. Bye!" she lied before galloping off past a pub. The colt shook his head. Sure, use the time as an excuse to get away from an argument you already lost AJ, he thought. Sugar Buzz looked at the clock tower as well. Seven-thirty-two. He remembered a concert being performed by Octavia that was scheduled for eight in the Daisy district, and set off at a brisk trot, hoping to get there before the opening act.
Chapter 2 - The outcast clubIt was rather dark in the alley next to the Moonlight Bushel, and Sugar Buzz didn't feel at ease, due in great part to the fact that he was alone in the dark in a part of the city he was unfamiliar with. He almost never left his home, and if he did, he didn't venture very far from it. Nervously, he looked up to the nearby clock tower. It only read 8:29. Time felt like it was hardly moving. Okay, guess I got here a bit early. I still got a minute to wait though. Sugar's thoughts feverishly began formulating several scenarios of things that might happen to him in this alleyway. "Ah, Sugar Buzz! You made it." The young colt nearly jumped out of his coat before quickly turning about to see Steelmane standing almost right next to him. The commander's arrival was poorly timed, as a scenario involving a gunman coming from behind had just played through the boy's head. "Please don't do that sir... I'm skittish enough as is!" Sugar Buzz griped, his voice firm but panicked. He looked at the clock tower again. 8:29 still. "Well, we're both a minute early, but I'm here, and not getting tackled by guards." After saying that, the colt looked about rather anxiously. "At least not yet anyway..." Steelmane rolled his eyes. "Lighten up kid. You really think I'd go back on a Pinkie swear?" Sugar Buzz considered the thought for a second. Several flashbacks of guards knocking his front door almost entirely off its hinges came to mind. "Well, as many times as you and your goons caved in my front door, I'm really not too sure, but I'll roll with it anyways." The commander chuckled to himself. The clock tower bell rang eight times to signify the hour, then a shortened ring to signify a half hour. The commander stomped his hoof twice on the ground, stirring up small clouds of dust. "Eight and a half, boys and girls! Get out here!" Steelmane shouted. Ponies began climbing out of various spots on the three buildings that made up the alleyway, nothing more than large black silhouettes that moved with ease on the side of a wall, hopping down to the road off the tops of jutting windows, or climbing out of dumpsters that looked full to the untrained eye. They all assembled around the commander and his companion in a sort of lazy circle, slowly walking about. Sugar Buzz nervously glanced at each one of the shadowy figures as they continued circling him and Steelmane. His mind was just screaming run, run, but his body wasn't responding so well. "Uh... Sir? Should we run now?" the colt asked. The commander simply shook his head, then adjusted his cap. "Enough with the silhouette march, guys, you're scaring the poor kid." he said sternly. A loud pop rang out and orange-tinted lighting suddenly filled the alleyway. The power had returned to the street lamps, due in great part to a mare sitting next to a switch box on the nearby power pole. She wore cylindrical goggles with reflective lenses. Even bathed in orange light, Sugar Buzz could tell her coat was pink. Her mane and tail were ridiculously puffy, like cotton candy. "Heya Sugar Rush!" she called down to Steelmane's companion, waving frantically. The commander eyed the mare like she was out of her mind, which most would assume she is. Sugar Buzz instantly recognized the overly perky voice. "It's Pinkie's nickname for me. I'd just roll with it." he explained. Steelmane kicked a pebble across the ground before looking about himself. "Best not stay out here any longer. The guards won't take too kindly to their commanding officer talking with a bunch of slum-runners who may or may not have warrants out for their arrest." He took off his cap and felt the inside of the headband as he walked over to an old cellar door. Steelmane brought a key out of the hat and opened the padlock that held the door shut, promptly swinging the rickety door open after doing so. He motioned for his colleagues to go in quickly. Once Sugar Buzz stepped inside, the commander shut the door and closed the padlock around a chain on a loop in the stairwell. This wasn't a cellar as it had first appeared to be. Instead, it was an independent room all its own, cleverly disguised to blend in as the basement for the bar above, fully insulated and furnished with wooden tables, cushioned chairs, a radio, and several decorative light fixtures and paintings. It felt like home to Sugar Buzz, which helped to calm his nerves. A blue stallion approached him. "So you're the lad Mister Steelmane's told me about. Name's Trott. Don't call me 'Trotty', otherwise I'll be seein' you out meself. Nice makin' your acquaintance lad!" The stallion spoke with a thick Trottish accent, and had a rather short beard. He was dressed in black like the rest, but carried a pair of saddlebags stuffed to bursting with ginger ale, cider, and several sets of mugs and glasses all wrapped in bubble wrap. He didn't shave often, as evidenced by his rather thick beard. The two bumped hooves and Trott turned about and began placing the glassware on the tables that dotted the room. Sugar Buzz let his eyes wander about the room a little more, until they came to rest on a familiar grey mare. "Octavia?" he thought aloud. The cellist glanced at him momentarily, then resumed unpacking her instrument. Talk about an interesting day. First I learn that Steelmane knows the Pinkie swear, now I see Octavia in a cellar club? What next, Applejack doing backflips? Tink, tink, tink! The sound of metal against glassware rang through the room. Steelmane stood next to one of the tables, wielding his sword in one hoof, and a mug in the other, waiting until the room fell silent. "Well, good to see everypony's here! Now, I'm sure all of you met our newest addition to the Outcasts Club, a kid named Sugar Buzz." Several ponies nodded their heads. "Good, good. Now, we all have one thing in common. Oh hay bales, I forgot it... Can anypony here remind me what it was we have in common?" "That we all can't stand Stalwart's crap!" spat a yellow mare. "YEAH!" they all cried in unison. "That Stalwart's a racist bastard who thinks awful high of himself!" added a green stallion. Again the cry came. "YEAH!" The commander stood there, still as a statue with a smug grin on his face as ponies left and right shouted the reasons they had for disliking their leader. Their unanimous cry was like a choir to his ears, and was part of the reason he started this club, to have a spot for ponies to speak out against the dictator that ran their city without being suspended by the nearest guard. Kicking out ponies like them for having wings or a horn? That's not right. Killing a pony with wings and a horn? That's downright unacceptable! Everypony here could agree on that. Steelmane finally brought his sword down onto the table, embedding the blade in the shoddy wood. "Then whadya say we have a few drinks?! They're on the house!" A cheer rose up from the whole group, several pops and the clinking of glasses following suit. The musicians gathered their instruments and began playing a lively, rowdy tune to keep the mood pleasant. Steelmane leaned back in his chair, a mug of cider held high and tightly in his hoof. "To the Outcasts!" he shouted.
Chapter 3 - Learn from your mistakes...It was a beautiful afternoon in the city. The birds sang their sweet melodies as they flew through the sky, the bees frequented the flowers that colored the streets and walls, and ponies went about their business, greeting each other in a friendly manner as they trotted about with hardly a care. Earth's Haven marketplace, always the busiest part of the city throughout the day with stalls being crowded by ponies of all shapes and sizes, all with bits to spend on the first exotic item they can get their hooves on, was the crown jewel of the city whose name it shared. A grey mare was trotting along the road pushing a cart weighed down by a set of speakers, two suitcases, and a cello case to a spot nearby the market. She was flanked by two others who, to the untrained eye, were coincidentally walking the same direction as her. In all reality, they were following her to her destination. The only stallion of the trio walked closer to the grey mare. "Octavia, are you sure we should be doing this? Steelmane's gonna tan our hides if he finds out what we're doing!" he whispered, worry lacing his tone. "Calm down Trott. Steelmane won't know if he isn't here to see what we're doing. The guards'll be changing shifts soon, so we'd best do this quickly." Octavia's expression remained unchanged as she continued on down the street. "I hope you're right Octy..." Trott walked further away to blend with the crowd. Not much time passed before Octavia found the spot she wanted, which was in front of a bookstore and a music shop that sat further inward than the rest of the buildings around them. Octavia began setting up her equipment casually. She was using a street performance as cover for something more devious... The other mare of the group, Carrot Top, walked past where Octavia stood, waiting for her cue. The grey mare turned and nodded at her. That was the signal. Carrot quickened her pace slightly as she made for the market center. Trott was next in the sequence. He walked up to Octavia, and asked if she needed help. Octavia agreed, stating she was having trouble hooking up the speakers, which was when Trott was meant to hook up an acoustics detector that was programmed to wirelessly trigger a device that Carrot Top was just now placing on the statue of the city's leader. It was disguised as a large vase containing a flower bouquet with a plaque that read "To honor our glorious leader" on the side of the vase. It was a blatant lie. All of the equipment was in place, now came Octavia's part in the scheme. She flipped through her music sheet until she found her composed piece, then began playing. It was a rather sad, somewhat quickly-paced tune. The cellist's expression was that of frustratrion the whole time she played. In the market center, the detonator for the explosives packed within the vase lit up, concealed by the false soil and flowers that were lodged in the top. Passersby were watching Octavia as she played on, sometimes depositing bits into the shoebox next to her. This was it. Two more measures of music. She had just gotten to the final note of her song, which sounded like a low, drawn out hum, just as guards were walking past to change shifts. Finally the cellist finished playing. Here it comes... BOOOM!! The explosion rang out from the market, and ponies started panicking and running about. The guards who were walking back to the barracks suddenly turned about and began galloping towards the market center, having dropped their weapons before reaching the unstable statue. "What was that?" asked Octavia, feigning confusion. "Something just blew up!" "What?!" "Stalwart's Statue! I-it's gonna fall" cried one of the guards. "EVERYPONY RUN!!" The statue began to topple forward into the street, landing with the heavy crack of stone against stone pavement. The plaque that adorned the vase was lodged in the side of a nearby building, with its true message visible now "To our tyrant, Stalwart Shield: wake up and smell the flowers, you stuck-up bastard. Stalwart sat back in his chair while the television in front of him showed news footage of his statue being destroyed by an explosion. The TV screen flashed and faded quickly to black. "The lengths some ponies go to have others hear them... If they're tearing down one of my statues, then whomever's doing this could very well be at my throat before too long." he said, raising his eyebrows. The aged pony stood up from his chair and opened the large curtains that blocked out the sun from his room, allowing large sloped beams of light to pour through the windows. "I smell the putrid stench of revolution...." he said, each word dripping with hatred. "Mister Shield?" "GAH!" Stalwart whipped around with his hoof against his chest and his back against the wall, only to find Commander Steelmane standing in front of him. "For the love of nature man! Announce yourself beforehoof! Nearly gave me a heart attack." "Sorry about that sir. One of my guardponies said you wanted to see me earlier?" Steelmane asked casually. Stalwart did remember asking to see the guard commander some time ago. "Yes, yes... I sent for you earlier." the old stallion said softly. "Very well. I'm here. Now, what did you need me for Mister Shield?" the commander asked. "Commander." Stalwart said, his calm tone returning. "Yes sir?" "I feel an uprising is starting to rear its ugly head. I want it stopped, commander." "Umm... Sir?" "The madsteeds destroyed one of my statues!" "Stalwart, I don't think-" started the commander. Stalwart stopped him and turned the TV back on. The news coverage of the explosion played again, and once the plaque bearing the message directed at Stalwart showed, the screen went dark again. The commander stood there, gawking. "Now do you see?! There's a revolutionist waltzing about on the streets of my city, and he's bound to be at my throat before long! I need you to hunt this cur down, and ensure he hangs!" Stalwart spat. The commander hesitated, but nodded and quickly trotted out the door. Knowing one of his cohorts might have done this could very well put the Outcasts in danger, so he had to make sure this, or anything like it, didn't happen twice. As he continued along the corridor, he thought over which member would go so far as to set up a bomb to demolish a landmark meant to honor a dictator who passed himself off as a righteous leader, fair and just. He already knew it wasn't Sugar Buzz... Pinkie was crazy, but she wasn't that crazy. Maybe it was Trott, who had by far the worst grudge against Stalwart Shield. Could he have done it alone? No, no... He'd need help. The commander had no choice but to hold a meeting in the false cellar to find who did it. The sound of muttering snapped Steelmane out of his thought process. Oh buck me... Why him of all ponies? The pony Steelmane was referring to was a hunter who retired due to having a timber wolf slash across his aiming eye during a struggle, and always seemed to go a little bit nutty if Steelmane was nearby, claiming he could smell something that "didn't belong". The only reason Stalwart kept this stallion in the force was because of his keen nose. He could track down a pegasus, unicorn, or mutant by smell. Unfortunately for Steelmane, that meant he could smell any of those races on him, though the scent of pegasi was the most prominent. The commander gave the hunter's doorway a wide berth before galloping off towards the atrium. The false cellar was packed full of Outcast members. Steelmane was livid, pacing back and forth with his sword held like a cane while everypony else sat in silence. The commander finally stopped pacing and spun his sword upright in his hoof, holding it straight up. He took a sharp breath in through his nostrils. "Alright. I'm not in the best of moods right now, so you'd best pipe up if you know who it was. Who in the name of Stalwart had the gall to go and BLOW UP A STATUE IN BROAD BUCKING DAYLIGHT?! Do you know how many ponies could've been killed by that? Again, who did it?!" "I told ya he was goin' t' be cross, Octy." Trott whispered. "Trott! Octavia! Both of you up here, NOW." The two guilty ponies hurriedly trotted up to where the commander stood. Steelmane scanned the crowd, then brought his glare back to the pair standing in front of him. "Who else was with you?" "Carrot top was with us, Mister Steelmane sir... We had her place the explosives." Octavia answered reluctantly. Steelmane pointed the tip of his sword at the orange-haired mare, and she rushed up to stand with the other two guilty ponies. Steelmane eyed each one for a moment. He took in a deep breath. "You do realize pulling a stunt like that could have Stalwart's guards kicking in our doors within the next hour, right?" The commander's tone was suddenly even again, though anger still laced each of his words. All three ponies nodded slowly. "And if we start striking earlier than we should, it's going to make things harder for us later, right?" Again the three ponies nodded. Steelmane sighed. "I don't know whether I should commend you or convict you three for pulling that. That took guts, but now just isn't the time. We need time to build a decent size force before we break Shield's back... Dismissed." said the commander before sheathing his sword. After everypony was back in their places, Steelmane called for everyone's attention. "Because of the oh-so-bold move carried out by our three warmongers, the old bastard's jumpy. He's ordered those responsible to be strung up at the edge of the city should they be found." Several ponies started to panic. "Wait, what?!" "Is he outta his gourd?" Several more panicked remarks followed before Steelmane unsheathed his sword and chopped it into the edge of the table. Everyone fell silent. "You heard me. The dictator's gonna hang one of his own for putting on a fireworks show. Now, I'll have to wait a while before I can tell him the pony responsible hoofed it to the forest. He'll probably fall for it and tell me not to follow, so the gates'll have more guards afterwards, but that means a few less on the inside." With that out of the way, the commander called for a round of drinks to lighten up the mood and get everybody's mind off of Stalwart's newly imposed threat. He figured they could all use a breather, especially the ones who just got the brunt of his frustration. He was the one who needed that breather the most after today... Another move like that, and his superior would be searching every nook and cranny for the Outcasts. Knowing Stalwart as well as he did, the old codger would eventually calm down, and things would go back to normal. He wouldn't forget what happened, but he'd calm down.
Chapter 3.5 - ReminiscingIt was a warm afternoon and the sun was still sitting directly above Earth's Haven. Business was at its peak for a pub called The Cider Barrel located against the wall in the eastern corner of the city. Inside, a mare with a plum coat and raspberry colored mane was feverishly cleaning the counter. She always thought a thoroughly cleaned counter would bring about more customers if the building itself didn't. Once she was satisfied with the glossy shine of the smooth wood, the mare returned to serving tall mugs of only the finest cider, the kind that she figured only ponies who had a discerning taste could truly enjoy. The soft ring of the bell above the double doors caught her attention, and she instantly recognized the stallion walking into the bar. He was a regular customer here who told enough hunting stories to fill a book or two. Deadeye was his name, not because of his now defunct right eye, but the fact that he used to be a crack shot whenever he went hunting, and to this day holds the record for the highest number of mutants exterminated. Now he's just an experienced hunter with a keen nose that serves in the guard force for the city. "The regular draft Mister Deadeye?" asked the mare as the ex-hunter sat down at the end of the counter. He nodded. The bartender tossed a mug into the air, deftly catching it and spinning about on one hoof like a ballerina as she poured cider into it. She set the pitcher back on the shelf behind her and proceeded to slide the mug down to Deadeye as she was juggling three cherries with her opposite hoof. With one swift, fluid motion, she tossed the cherries towards the still sliding mug before picking up a wooden skewer mid-spin and throwing it like a tiny javelin, impaling all three of the tiny fruit, the whole assortment landing straight in the mug with a small splash before it was stopped by the intended recipient. The stallion chuckled. Berry Punch, the only pony skilled in the art of flashy cider service. She sauntered over to Deadeye, and leaned on the counter with a gleam in her eyes. "Soooo... what's the word today Mister D?" The guard raised an eyebrow, and stopped drinking from his mug. He looked around to see a crowd had built up around him, all with expectant grins on their faces. They wanted to hear one of his tales of his hunting days. Deadeye took a sizeable swig from his cider and breathed a defeated sigh. "Alright then. You want a story? I'll give ya one then." he said. He rubbed his forehead for a second. "Ah! I've got one..." Snowcap Plains, 19 years ago "Hey Deadeye! I'll bet ye can't shoot this wee little can off ma head without scalpin' me!" Trott shouted. He was a great distance away from the hunting group, and had a discarded tin can mounted on top of his head. "Hey, get a load o' Trotty all the way over there." said a light tan pony with an Irish accent as he gently elbowed his companion. Deadeye looked up from his map and followed the direction of the tan pony's hoof to find Trott jumping up and down waving one of his forelegs in the air. "Alright, what's the Scot on about this time?" he asked impatiently. "From what I'm hearin', I'm s'posin' he wants ya to shoot somethin' offa his head." "You can't be serious..." the marksman said. "Oh come on, he's doin' it to have a little bit o' fun. We been marching for hours, and we ain't found a single mutant sulkin' 'round these parts. All we seen is white, white, an' more white. Just humor the poor bastard, will ya?" Deadeye huffed, blowing a small cloud of steam from his nostrils. "Fine." He folded up the map and reached for his rifle. Three seconds to set up. Deadeye dropped to the ground after pulling his rifle from the sling on his back. He brought the bolt back and inserted the magazine into its slot with a soft click before shoving the bolt forward and down, then brought the scope to his eye. Through it, he could see Trott's idiotic grin whenever he stopped spouting nonsense for a moment. Two seconds to line up the shot. The crosshairs were fixed on a small cylindrical object on top of the Scotspony's head. A simple little tin can. Mere child's play for the marksman. One to pull the trigger. The object flew off of Trott's head, and he almost fell backwards in a panic. He found his footing again before looking back behind him, then back towards the group with a dumbfounded look on his face. Deadeye chuckled. He hadn't seen the Scot this surprised since the time he woke up wearing makeup after a night of hard partying at the bar. "Alright Trott! You got me to shoot a can off your head, now get your flank back over here, we got mutants to hunt!" Deadeye shouted to the Scot as he was trotting towards the group. The Snowcap Forest was coming up in the distance, where mutants were said to have been hiding for the past several weeks now. That was the destination of interest for the group, though it would have to wait. Nightfall was coming fast, and they all needed to set up camp and rest anyway. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A half-ring of tents sat around a slowly dying fire, having been set up just an hour before night fell over the land. The Irish pony leaned forward from his seat and poked some of the logs in the fire with a rod, moving them slightly to keep the fire, the group's only source of light and heat, burning. His coat looked almost golden in the glow of the flames. Trott sauntered out of his tent, his forehooves in the pockets of his jacket. "How's the fire treatin' ya Irish?" The pony tending the fire just shrugged. He had his coat wrapped around himself like a blanket as he sat on a rock. The Scottish pony settled onto one of the stools that stood near the fire pit, and the two just sat there in silence a few moments before Trott finally spoke. "You've been awful quiet since we set up camp. Somethin' in your side lad?" Irish didn't respond. Trott brought his gaze back to the fire. "Timber wolves." Irish finally said softly. "What?" "Timber wolves, Trott. I can smell 'em from here, and that means we're gettin' a little too close to their territ'ry." "Oh quit worryin' lad. We got oil and a few lighters. When we're done with 'em, they'll be called 'cinder wolves'!" Trott bust out laughing at his own little joke. "This isn't a joke Trott! Them timber wolves'll catch wind o' us before long, and when they do, I'm doing the smart thing and runnin' for me life!" Irish spat. Deadeye peeked out of his tent. "Hey what's all the noise over?" he asked. "Ah ol' Irish here's yammerin' about us being close to timberwolf territory. I say he's gettin' jumpy." explained Trott. "This nose hasn't lied to me yet, and I know the stink of timberwolf when I smells it!" Irish snapped again. Deadeye looked west, towards the Snowcap Forest. The forest wasn't too far off, and he knew cold weather didn't affect timber wolves. He looked back towards his bickering companions who were practically at each others' throats at this point. Deadeye rushed out between the two, pushing them apart with his forehooves. "Now hang on a second!" he said. No use, the two were already on the verge of violence. "You're just yella! Ya don't have the guts to hunt down a mutant, Irish!" Trott snapped. "Guys, will you-" "So says the Scotsman who jumps whenever he shoots his own damn gun! I says I'm right and we turn tail now while we still got 'em!" Irish spat back. "Guys-" "And I say we keep goin' the way we're goin' so we can drill a round through-" "SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!!" Deadeye shouted angrily. The arguing stopped instantly. "Look, we're not going to flip our lids over a bunch of living twigs with bad breath. If push comes to shove, we can go with Trott's suggestion and burn them, but other than that, we focus on turning a mutant's head into swiss cheese and picking off whatever's valuable." The marksman gave both of his companions a pat on the shoulder and headed back to his tent. Trott and Irish scowled at each other before following suit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...And I says ta him, 'sure ya can talk tough, but are ya tough?' I tell ya that stallion never came at me cross again." Irish finished a tale he was telling. "So that's how you lost yer tooth? Ya got in a bar fight?" Trott asked. "Yup. But I can't say I swung first." Irish said slyly. "Oh? And why's that Irish?" "Cause I didn't! Me hoof did!" Trott started laughing before starting up a tale of his own as the group trekked through the forest. Deadeye pulled out the creased map of Snowcap Forest and scanned over it. His eyes stopped on the thick red circle that marked where ponies said they saw mutants the most, then on one of the landmarks next to it. Seawash Ring. The marksman turned to look behind himself. Sure enough, the ring of stone wasn't too far off, and that meant they were getting close. "Irish, Trott, stow it. Just up ahead is where mutants should be hiding, so if we want one dead, we need to keep quiet." Deadeye said flatly. "Gotcha." Trott quipped. No answer from Irish. "Irish?" The marksman was about to turn around when he saw a flash of tan streaking through the bushes. Irish was already on the prowl. Above the shrubbery, a proud horn lightly bounced up and down as its owner pranced about, unaware it was being hunted. Neither Deadeye nor Trott could see the tan coat of their Irish cohort anymore, save for subtle hints as to where he was by rustling leaves, so they followed the bouncing horn instead. "YAAAAHH!!" In a flash, Irish flung himself down onto the unfortunate creature beneath him and began furiously stabbing away at his victim. The other hunters just watched as the horn swung back and forth erratically before it finally fell out of view and the sound of steel plunging in and out of flesh ceased. "Irish?" Deadeye called worriedly. No answer. "Irish?!" Again, no answer. "What happened to keepin' quiet, sharpshot?" Irish asked calmly. "AAAH!" "EYAA! Sweet fires o' Tartaurus Irish, how long've ya been standin' there?!" Trott asked, still scared out of his wits. "Oh, I dunno... A second?" He snickered a little at his friends' reactions. "Oh, that reminds me! I got ya both a present from me travels! No returns, yeah?" Irish said as he hoisted a corpse up next to him. Its head lolled about with each jerk and shove. "Damn... And I thought Trott was the violent one!" the marksman quipped. "Oh yeah, I'm nasty, but I never cracked a bastard's neck when I get in a fight." Trott said, visibly scared of his tan-colored cohort now. "But, that aside, we-... I mean Irish bagged a mutant for our troubles, so we best start shavin' it." Present day "Whoa whoa whoa. What do you mean by 'shave' the mutant, cyclops?" one of the bar goers piped up in the middle of the story. The guard brought a hoof to his forehead. "When a mutant hunter says they're gonna 'shave' their kill, it means they cut off whatever's worth a pretty penny here in the city. Now zip it if you want to hear the rest." Deadeye explained. Earth's Haven border forest, 19 years ago Irish was smiling the whole way to the city, carrying saddlebags full of the valuable parts they cut off of their kill. He was counting the bits in his head as he trotted ahead of his companions. "So Irish, what exactly do ya think we'll be gettin' when we sell the shavings?" Trott asked. "Let's see... Th' horn goes for a hundred, the feathers are a bit a pound, and, if I'm recallin' right, the hide goes for seventy-two. We got three pounds o' feathers, so three bits there. We're gonna have a hundred and seventy-five bits from this 'un." Irish announced proudly. The three of them began contemplating what they'd do with their cut of the profits. Trott had his sights set on heading to one of the most revered pubs in Earth's Haven and having a few rounds of cider there, whereas Irish was intent on getting a personalized knife for future hunts. Deadeye was considering getting a barrel mod or a new scope for his rifle. Suddenly Irish stopped dead in his tracks. "What's wrong Irish? You just realize that's more money than what you get at that dead-end job of yours?" Deadeye joked. "Deadeye, we been followed home..." Irish's voice dripped with great concern. "Pff, yeah. By Trott." the marksman joked again. "Can't ya smell 'em?!" "Irish, what in-" Deadeye cut himself short. He could smell something rancid, and it smelled close. "Timberwolves." "What's gotten inta you two? First we're talkin' about cash, now we're-" "Trott, we can discuss that later. Right now, run!" the marksman ordered. "But-" "SHUT UP AND RUN!!" Deadeye yelled, just as a pack of wooden creatures burst forth from the bushes that flanked the sides of the trail. The trio bolted towards the city gates as fast as they could muster, hoping that they'd get close enough for the guards to take notice and help stave off the beasts. "RAAAWR!" One of the timberwolves pounced on the marksman, pinning him to the ground beneath its splintery front paws. "Deadeye!" Irish yelled. "KEEP RUNNING! I'm dog chow anyway!" "Not on my watch, ya aren't!" Trott and Irish rushed the beast that had their friend pinned, but were quickly surrounded by the remaining wolves. "Okay, I guess ya are... We'll get help, I can promise ya that lad!" Trott assured Deadeye before he and Irish ran for the gates. Deadeye watched as his friends ran to safety, then brought his gaze back up to the glowing green dots on his assailant's muzzle. "I'm not going that easy you overgrown twig!" he said before spitting in the wolf's eye. It began furiously swiping at his face as he held the beast at a distance with his back hooves. This tactic seemed to be working, but as he looked around, Deadeye could see his time was growing shorter every second as the other timberwolves were slowly closing in on him. If he survived, this'd make one hell of a story. Just as he turned to look at his initial attacker, he felt its claws slash across his right eye. Deadeye kicked the wolf off of him as he was screaming in agony, rolling onto his side and covering his still-bleeding wound with his forehooves. "This is it. The part where I die..." Tears welled up in his good eye as he braced for the killing blow from his attackers. KAPOW! The sound of a rifle rang out, and one of the wooden wolves suddenly had a gaping hole in its head as the beast fell to the ground in pieces. A second shot rang out, and another wolf fell in half. The rest of the timberwolves saw they were getting picked off and fled with their stick tails between their stick legs. Present day The crowd still sat around the aged pony with stares of admiration so intense, it was almost like they were trying to see if they could talk him into telling another tale, though that wasn't likely to happen. Deadeye downed his fifth mug of cider and looked about. "And that's how I got this fancy scar." he said before finishing off his fifth mug of cider. He looked about for a moment. "I assume you're all still staring at me because you want to hear another one of my trips down memory lane, correct?" The other bar goers nodded. "Well too bad." he got up and sauntered towards the door. A reporter just happened to walk through the door and stopped Deadeye in his tracks. "Uh, pardon me thir! I'm a reporter for the Gathelle, the local paper, and I'd like to interview you. Em, what'th your name?" The reporter spoke with a lisp, and wore square-rimmed glasses that had a bent paperclip in place of one of the screws accompanied with a fedora that had several holes in it, not from bullets of course. "It's Deadeye. Now what do you want?" Deadeye asked, slightly annoyed. "Ah! Mithter Deadeye! I've got theveral quethtionth I wanna athk you thir!" The disgruntled guard facehooved. "Pick ONE, and only one! I'm not planning on staying here longer than I want to." "Okay." The reporter put a hoof to his chin for a moment. "I wanna know how you can pick out a pegathuth jutht by thmell. How do you do that? I'd like to know how to thniff out one of 'em if they get inthide the thity!" Deadeye grabbed the colt by his polka-dot bowtie and pulled him close. "They. Smell. Like. SPICES." he said each word through clenched teeth before shoving the colt aside and briskly trotting through the door.
Chapter 1 - Silent displeasureA week had passed since the execution, and many ponies still celebrated as if it had just happened, singing jolly, off-key tunes in the nearest pub with mugs of strong cider in their hooves while others, like Applejack, carried on like nothing happened, paying no mind to the drunk ponies who invited her to join them for a few rounds of cider. She didn't want to take part in such things before attending the sermon at the Cathedral of Mother Nature today, so she kept her eyes fixed on the ground beneath her hooves. Thump! "Ow... Hey wat-" Applejack caught herself before she finished that line, scrunching her muzzle in embarrassment. She had bumped into Stalwart Shield's second-in-command, Commander Steelmane. And she, being nothing more than a regular citizen, was going to tell Commander Steelmane, of all ponies, to watch where he was going? She wasn't one to disrespect a stallion of the law. "Erm... W-what ah meant to say was I'm sorry sir." The commander rolled his eyes, then leaned closer to the small orange pony and pushed up the brim of his cap. "You know, you don't always have to be so formal Applejack. If you want to tell me off, then tell me off. You're not gonna get locked up just for doing that you know." he said with a demeanor as calm as a lake. He was unusually tall for a pony, with a silver coat and an almost black mane. He kept a sword with him, always on his left side because he was right-hoof dominant, and his uniform naturally was slightly more extravagant than that of the various guards stationed around Earth's Haven because of his higher rank, though still retained the standard colors. "Commander, ah ain't gonna do that regardless o' whether or not ah get locked up, not to a stallion of the law." Applejack said firmly. Steelmane sighed. "AJ, you've got to be the most stubborn pony I know. Hell, probably even more so than Stalwart Shield. Once he gets his mind on something, you can't change it, kinda like you." The commander stood up to his full height and adjusted his cap back to its prior position. "Now about your friend." AJ facehooved. There was always somepony who brought up Sugar Buzz. "He hasn't gotten into trouble if that's what you're thinking. He's a good kid, really. Now, reason I brought him up is 'cause when I came back from my trip outside last week, I saw you and him arguing. What was that about?" "It was about why we gotta kill them mutants. Ah tell ya, they ain't no better than fleas, the lot of 'em... And he's asking why we gotta kill 'em? We gotta follow what Nature intended and weed her garden, 'cept the weeds are the mutants, and the garden's the world, ya know?" The commander placed an assuring hoof on her shoulder. "I'll try and talk a little sense into him if that's what you're getting at." "Best you do sir. That boy's gonna start a riot if'n' he gets the chance." she growled. "Now, I wouldn't say that. Sure, he might say a few things to the wrong person, but I don't think the riot'll be started intentionally by him." "Now, before you go sir, ah got a question. What did you mean by 'when you came back'?" "I wasn't in the city during the execution last week that's all." "You sayin' ya left the walls of the city? Commander, out there's nothin' but mutants and them other freaks what don't belong anywhere NEAR this city!" Steelmane felt a lecture coming, but his expression didn't change. He studied the dress she was wearing while she continued her rant, then finally piped up when she stopped to catch her breath. "Don't you have a sermon to attend?" Applejack jumped to her hooves in a panic. "Aw hay bales, yer right! Ah'm gonna be late!" she cried before galloping off. Steelmane chuckled to himself. That's the third lecture today that he's thwarted, only eleven shy of his record. Looks like I've got a pony to find then. Sugar Buzz was laying on his couch with a controller in his hooves, enthusiastically playing Parasprite Panic. He held the highest score on the arcade version, mainly because everypony else wasn't that good at it. It was still a rather new form of entertainment, these video games, so even Sugar Buzz had trouble with it now and again. Now and again while playing, his mind flashed back to last week, mainly when his character fell into the pitfalls. He wasn't too fond of having to see executions like the one just last week, and he didn't take too kindly to Stalwart Shield now and again, but followed his laws regardless to avoid being locked in a cell for whatever period of time the city leader felt appropriate. A knock came at his door just as his character died for the umpteenth time. "GAH! Coming!" he said, punching the pause button. He trotted over to the window next to his front door and peered through it. He saw a guard in full armor padding holding a spear that was blunted with thick cloth wrapping, and next to that guard stood Commander Steelmane. He groaned, but proceeded to unlock all three locks that kept his door closed to the public. The commander had a pleasant smile on his face, though to Sugar Buzz, it felt as pleasant as the smile of a shark. The guard accompanying Steelmane stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Mister Buzz, the commander would like a word wit-" Sugar Buzz held up a hoof to stop him. "Now, hold that thought. Before you rattle on any further, did the cowpoke send you?" "I-I'm sorry?" asked the guard. "I think he means Miss Applejack, Padlock." stated the commander. "Ah. Um, no she didn't sir." "Alright. Just thought I'd ask, since every other time you two are at my door, it's because of her. Please, come on in. You were probably going to anyway." Sugar Buzz stepped aside. Padlock started to step inside, but was stopped by the commander. "Padlock, I'd like a word with Mister Buzz in private, please." "Of course sir." He stepped over in front of the window and turned to face the street, while Steelmane stepped inside the house, ducking slightly to avoid to hitting his head against the top of the doorframe due to his height. Sugar Buzz shut the door behind him and casually trotted back to his spot on the couch. Steelmane sat down in the nearby recliner, smoothing out his uniform before leaning forward and setting his cap on the table in front of him. "Sugar Buzz, nice seeing you again." "Uh-huh." Sugar Buzz grunted. The pair sat in silence for a while. It was like waiting in a hospital lobby, except without the smell of sickness and the moldy, outdated magazines. The young colt turned off the TV, but left the game system running as he normally did when occupied with something else for a short time. Steelmane shifted in his seat, thinking about how he was going to word his offer to the colt. He didn't want Padlock coming in and making things harder than they already were, what with the colt's displeasure. "So Applejack-" began the commander. Sugar Buzz raised a hoof ."Aaaand I'm gonna stop you there. You just told me that you weren't sent here by AJ, yet you're already bringing her up. What's this got to do with her?" "I was just going to say I ended up running into her this morning while she was on her way to a sermon. We talked a bit, then she brought up an argument you two had a week back after the execution." Steelmane stated. "Oh yeah. Honestly I still think I won that one, 'cause she made an excuse about having to do something back home or something like that, and then ran off." "I've got an offer for you." "An offer? But-" Sugar Buzz started. But the commander stopped him and set a folded piece of paper on the coffee table in front of both of them. "Meet me at the Moonlight Bushel." "The Moonlight Bushel? Sir, I'm nowhere near the drinking age!" "I didn't say we were going for drinks." the commander stated coolly. This confused the colt further. "When you get to the Moonlight Bushel, look for a cellar door around the back. I wrote the instructions on how to get in on that scrap of paper. Don't come before 8:30 at night." And with that said, Steelmane got up and left without saying anything more.
