Villainy Is Its Own Reward
Villains are not born. They are made, forged by circumstances often beyond their control. Can they truly be blamed for what they become? For what they do? Are they really in the wrong or is it the rest of the world conspiring against them that is at fault?
Just remember- for every hero championing a supposed virtue there are an equal number of monsters doing the same.
Or something equally deep to that effect.
. . . Just, just read the story.
He could hear them again. The whispers, everywhere. It was just a sad, if irritating, fact of life that he was used to it by now. No matter how hard he tried to ignore them they still clawed their way to the front of his mind. His ears flattened against his skull as tightly as he could manage but it did nothing. The whispering only continued to grow louder as he trotted along toward his intended goal.
Really now, he was starting to wish he heard voices in his head if only to drown out this foalishness. Does nopony mind their own business nowadays?!
"There he goes again. He's so . . . weird!"
"How come he only ever comes out of his house to go shopping? What does he even do by himself all the time?"
"I've never even heard him speak before. He doesn't even talk to the salesponies- just hands them a list, pays and then leaves without a word. Kind of rude if you ask me."
"Maybe that stallion just thinks he's too good for ponies like us. I heard he did come from Canterlot, after all."
"Doesn't he get hot wearing all that? Seriously, it's the middle of summer."
He almost paused for a moment at that last one. True, it was a bit warm under his outfit. As in, stifling nearly to the point of distraction. Those other ponies could never understand, however. It was necessary.
The pristine white lab coat that covered his entire frame was a proud declaration of his love for science and the pursuit of knowledge. An oversized collar rose high enough to cover his muzzle in order to ward off both hazardous materials and painfully awkward conversations. Rubber shoes over all four hooves were somewhat scuffed but otherwise in good condition- a necessary precaution when one dabbles in chemistry and the like. Bandages around his head and ears concealed what the rest did not, making it impossible to actually tell the stallion's coat color- the reason for those was something he'd rather not think on too deeply. The final piece of his ensemble was a pair of sturdy goggles perched just over his forehead. They were quite well suited to protecting his plain brown eyes, the pony's only visible feature other than his comparatively attention grabbing orange mane and tail.
After several moments he realized he had actually stopped right in the middle of the road to perform some sort of strange mental inventory of his own clothing. Perhaps the lack of sleep was getting to him again. Regardless, he ignored the puzzled stares of Ponyville's denizens as he trudged onward once more toward his goal. The sooner he took care of this little chore the sooner he could be out of this blasted heat wave and away from prying eyes.
Less than a minute later his intended destination entered his sight. Sugarcube Corner. Oh, how he hated this place with a passion. However, it was the only bakery in this town and he required baked goods. If only he could get his Confectioinary Cloner to work, this would be a non-issue. Of course, the last time he experimented with that . . . well. He tended to lose his appetite at the thought of trying to eat a bagel that attempted to eat him first.
Occasionally the little bread monsters still tried to ambush him and he could sometimes hear them rattling around inside his home's ventilation.
They mostly come out at night. Mostly.
Shaking his head to clear it of the somewhat bitter thoughts of past failures, he approached the bakery and stopped just beside the entrance where an inconspicuous table sat. Glancing about warily, he decided that the coast was momentarily clear and proceeded to fish out a few bits from a pocket. He nearly completed the ritual but stopped just short of depositing the bits in a small glass jar sitting on the table when he noticed something amiss. The table was completely barren except for the jar.
His brows furrowed ever so slightly. What trickery was this? It was Tuesday and it was exactly a quarter past eight. Where was the box of fresh, savory bagels awaiting pickup? He'd made this agreement with the Cakes ever since that last fiasco involving that-other-baker-pony-that-shall-not-be-named. They had a deal! Curse this sudden but inevitable betrayal!
Something then caught his attention- a piece of paper taped to the front of the table. Tentatively, he craned his head down to examine it more closely. It had the appearance of something a foal had drawn with crayons- a few colorful words bordered by glitter, hearts and caricatures of a pink demon dancing and singing. It stated, quite simply, 'FREE BAGELS INSIDE!!!'.
With a vaguely displeased sound in the back of his throat he connected the dots. The eye-wateringly bright, chromatic dots. This was another one of those attempts, one he could not ignore. The Great Pink Menace had proved both alarmingly resourceful and highly adaptable in the past. Now the trap had been set with bait he could not ignore. Clever girl.
Barely restraining a snort, he ambled over to the door before reaching into another pocket and pulling out a small blue pellet. Lightly grasping the pellet in one hoof, he placed the other on the door and gently pushed it. It swung inward without a noise, revealing a pitch black interior. With a roll of his eyes he stuck his head inside and . . .
"SURPRISE!!! Welcome to Ponyvi-"
. . . forcefully threw the pellet at the ground causing it to explode into a sizable blue cloud of smoke.
The lights cut on, revealing all the preparations for a party to include a rather large group of stunned ponies. The whole crowd gawked at the thick blue smoke wafting into the room- with the exception of one pink pony who had grabbed a massive box fan she had set aside for just such an occasion. With the flick of a switch the fan instantly roared to life, expunging the blue cloud outside where it rapidly dissipated. Several unfortunate ponies going about their business on the street were also picked up by the gale force winds and swept into the sky but this was completely inconsequential to a one Pinkie Pie.
After a few more seconds Pinkie turned off the fan. Without missing a beat she jumped to the doorway, balancing on her hind hooves as she braced her forelegs against the frame. Her eyes narrowed to predatorial slits as she scanned high and low for her prey. Unfortunately, not a living soul was left on the street outside. Gnashing her teeth quite audibly, she growled before plopping back down to all fours. "Drat! I was sure I had him this time!"
Fighting down her apprehension, Applejack stepped toward Pinkie and cleared her throat. "Now, sugarcube, Ah don't really want to tell ya this but . . . maybe ya'll should consider callin' it quits now?"
Pinkie froze momentarily before whirling around to face the farm mare- quite an impressive feat considering her hooves didn't even leave the ground to do it. "Call it quits?! Without throwing him his official 'Welcome to Ponyville' party?!"
Applejack shuffled nervously for a moment before replying. "All Ah'm sayin' is . . . well, uh . . ."
Pinkie's piercing blue gaze became frighteningly intense as her eyes began to bulge out of her head. "Yeeeeees?"
"Ah, just. Well, y'see . . ."
Applejack broke out in a cold sweat and barely suppressed the urge to take a step back as Pinkie's eyes drew ever closer. "Yeeeeeeeeeees?"
"A-Ah . . . Ah think . . ."
It might have been Applejack's imagination but she could swear she was starting to hear an oddly familiar ominous tune coming from somewhere as the pink confectionist continued to stare at her without so much as blinking. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees?"
"A-Ah think that, that . . . Twilight can explain it to ya!"
The lavender mare in question shot Applejack a betrayed and vaguely horrified look as Pinkie Pie switched targets instantly. "What?!"
Twilight glanced around at her other friends for moral support. She was somewhat disheartened, however, to note that all of them found the floor and ceiling to be of apparently infinite interest. Rainbow Dash even whistled something off key as she hovered in the air. Shaking her head in dismay, Twilight stepped forward and coughed lightly into her hoof. "Yes, well. Just how many times have you tried to throw him this party, Pinkie?"
Pinkie blinked before sitting back on her haunches and rubbing her chin with a hoof. "Hmm. Somewhere in the neighborhood of about one hundred and fourty-seven. Why?"
Twilight winced ever so slightly before continuing on. Sometimes, it really just did not pay to be the de facto leader of this group of unique mares. "He's been living here for a little over two years now, Pinkie. I don't think he wants a welcome party. You know, ever."
The librarian nearly jumped out of her skin when Pinkie Pie suddenly gasped, inhaling more air than any pony should rightly be able to contain. "Not. Want. A party?! Everypony likes parties!"
Rubbing her hooves together, Twilight began to smile in a decidedly nervous manner. This was very thin ice she was treading and she know it all too well. "There's always an exception Pinkie. Sometimes you just have to let it go."
That was it. Twilight mentally braced for impact, ready to teleport herself well outside the area of devastation when Mt Pinkie erupted.
She expected any number of explosive reactions from the pink mare. Then she immediately discarded them because where Pinkie Pie is involved you can't expect anything because it would always be what you didn't expect. So that could only mean you should expect the unexpected. If the unexpected is expected, that would make the expected unexpected. In that case, though, the expected that was now unexpected because it was expected is the most feasible . . . wait, what?
As Twilight Sparkle had her first foray into true Pinkistic Logic Systems and dealt with the subsequent meltdown of her brain, Pinkie Pie merely opted to look around the room sadly as her mane began to rapidly deflate. "But . . . if he never has his 'Welcome to Ponyville' party then he won't get to know everypony and he won't make any friends! That's just too sad!"
Twilight just continued to stare ahead blankly as her mental faculties rebooted. Pinkie, meanwhile, began to tear up as her lower lip began to tremble. "Nopony even knows his name. No matter how hard I try he won't even talk to me or anypony else! He has to be so lonely! I think he must be really shy and doesn't know how to make friends.
"I just-" Pinkie sniffled and rubbed a hoof over her watery eyes. "-I just want everypony to be happy and smile. What should I do, Twilight?"
Glassy eyes stared far beyond the reach and comprehension of mere mortals as Twilight continued to take her vacation from reality. Pinkie Pie, on the other hoof, instantly perked up. Jumping up to her hooves, her mane instantly puffed out again as her she pinned the insensate Twilight with an almost manic gaze. "You're right, Twilight! I should stop being all mopey-wopey and go right over to his house to at least get him to talk to somepony!"
Pinkie began to bounce up and down energetically as she grinned ear to ear. "I mean, I know I haven't managed to actually get inside his house in four hundred and eighty two tries but this time . . . "
Defying logic and the possible, Pinkie Pie reached out and pulled all of her fellow Elements into a crushing hug. " . . . I'll have all my bestest best friends with me!"
She was met with four less than enthusiastic verbal responses and one extremely talented imitation of a common garden shrubbery.
Author's Note
I won't lie. This is the result of a distinct lack of sleep. And now I'm too tired to continue past this admittedly abrupt stopping point. So I'll sleep. Uhh, feel free to drop some suggestions or something to that effect. If you please.
Also . . .
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not a single thing. I absolutely deny all ownership of everything you read here in this story. Don't blame me for it. I refuse to accept responsibility!