Previously on The Renegades...

“I said I was out of the game.”

“Hey, yer the best, don’t matter what anypony says."

“I have received word from a very reliable source that you have been looking for the Spider.”

"The Spider’s gone. The guy pulled a Houdini on us and ain’t no one’s seen him in years!”

"Grandma told me not to tell you this but… the bank called earlier this week.”

“When did you become the friendly neighborhood Ben Parker?"

“You’re just like mom and dad, counting down the days ‘till you can leave me to rot like yesterday’s trash!”

"Everything I’ve done, everything, since that day had been for us. You and me.”

“It’s not about playing hero, J.J., it’s about doing what’s right"

“So what? Is it a personal choice of yours?”

“No, responsibility.”

“When a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but to become an outlaw.” – Nelson Mandela

Episode 4: The Vigilante

The storm thrashed at the Rolls with ferocity unparalleled as rain hammered on the windows like the relentless drumming of nails. Thunder cracked the air as a bolt of lightning broke the utter blackness, cleaving the night sky in parts, but just for the briefest of moments. Frank shrugged, his chest heaving with a sigh. In Starling City, they sometimes had thunder and lightning, but not like this.

He craned his neck, looking outside he could see, through the curtain of water, the dimmed lights of the sprawling city. On a clear night the view was awe-inspiring, but tonight his only thought was setting his business straight, and then returning home to the comforts of his own bed. It was a quarter past midnight when he received the call. There had been some complications at the docks, and his immediate presence was required. It was short, simple, and most of all vague, just like he taught them. In the old days, the walls had ears, now the telephones did too.

A complication could mean a great deal of many things, but Frank knew he ran a tight ship, and his men could vouch for that. They knew the incentives of success, and the consequences in failure, mostly the consequences. Besides, if there was one thing he hated more than crooked cops and the God-awful texture of overcooked pastrami, is was when deliberate incompetence got in the way of a well-articulated plan. Now Frank had no qualms taking a horse by the reins, so to speak. Besides, on any other night, there was no place he would rather be than in the middle of it all. But this wasn’t any other night.

He swallowed hard, hooking a finger around the stifling knot around his neck in an effort to loosen his tie. There was a churning in his gut, and it wasn’t the ravioli he had for dinner. Frank was nervous, and with good reason. News of Scot Morgan’s horrifying end had spread faster than a Californian wildfire amongst Starling’s elites, including his known associates. Yet another name crossed off the list by The Hood, Starling City’s new mysterious vigilante.

Even with Starling’s finest on the case, nobody knew how the Hood had been choosing his victims, though the deaths of Guillermo Barrera, Jason Brodeur, Ted Daniels, and Adam Hunt the past several weeks made it clear to Frank that these were no mere coincidences. Like Morgan, they were all shrewd businessmen with close and personal ties to Starling’s underworld. As deep as their pockets go, though, all that private security amounted to hardened shit. In the end, the Vigilante hunted them down like jackrabbits in the Mohave, and gutted them all the same. Needless to say, Frank had an ominous hunch that he was next on the list. He forced a huff as he sponged the sweat from his forehead with the cuffs of his blue-chequered shirt.

Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

“Here we are Mister Bertinelli, the docks,” the driver said, putting on the breaks. The wheels squealed to a complete stop.

The door opened to the sight of a large, bulky individual, soaked to the bone despite his leather trench coat. “Hey, boss!” he yelled over the endless torrent hammering the concrete. “Glad you could make it.”

“Can it, Sloan. You better have a damned good reason dragging me out here.” Frank tightened his coat and stepped into the rain. “Aw, fuck.” He was drenched in seconds. “So what’s the fuckin’ problem?”

“Stykes didn’t come through.” Sloan gestured to the myriads of shipping containers stacked across the docks. “Said he’d be late for the next one.”

Frank forced a lengthy groan. “Fuckin’ Irish mick. Son of a bitch probably got himself wasted again.” He gagged, pressing his hand to his chest in a bid to ease the searing sensation creeping up his chest. “God, I’ve had it up to here with his shit.”

“So, what’re we gonna do, Boss?” Sloan flinched as thunder cracked the darkened sky. “I mean, we can always leave em’ here, and have Stykes pick em’ up tomorrow.”

“No.” Frank raised his hand. “The deal was we be there by dawn, and last thing I want is the S.C.P.D. poking their noses where it don’t belong.” He pulled a deep, staggered breath. His eyes, dull grey, connected with Sloan’s coal colored irises with partial hesitation. “Load the rest of the trucks. We’ll cut through the Glades.”

Sloan however, looked as if Frank had just told him to off his own mother. “T-t-the Glades?” he stuttered through clattering teeth. “But Boss, t-t-that’s Brick’s turf.”

“Idiot!” Frank cursed through gritted teeth, smacking Sloan across the head. Sloan reeled from the pain. “Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that? Don’t you worry about ole’ Danny, I’ll deal with him. Now you go tell the boys to load the trucks before I kick your teeth in.”

“Yes, you got it, Boss!” he shrieked, shuffling off through the curtain raindrops as he massaged the now throbbing bruise on the back of his head.

Idiots, the lot of them, Frank rubbed his temple at the thought. Then again, Sloan had a point. One of Starling’s most dangerous criminals, Daniel ‘The Brick’ Brickwell wasn’t exactly known for his temperance, especially when it came to trespassers. Crossing the Glades without his knowledge, let alone consent was suicide, but Frank needed this. There was a lot of dough riding on this, and as of now, the rewards outweighed the repercussions. If and when push came to shove, he would consider cutting a deal with his fellow mobster as a last resort. Ole’ Danny may love the sight of blood, and the virgin tushies of little boys, but Frank was willing to wager that he loved stacks of Benjamins a whole lot more.

“Fuck, what a night.” Frank ruffled his fingers through the wet strands of his dirty blonde hair. He turned his head to the sight of approaching headlights and the sounds of a semi-truck revving across the asphalt. Stacks of iron cages one atop the other and secured with chains. Locked within, were dozens of ponies, earth, unicorn and pegasi. He smirked, relishing in every desolate expression of and fear and dismay plastered upon their fuzzy little faces. It was not every day a man in his position gets to serve his country, and be so handsomely rewarded for it. Besides, it was nothing personal, only business, and boy was it booming.

Frank returned to his car and slid into the back seat. “Follow those trucks, and step on it.”

“Yes, sir,” his driver replied.

“Let me go, you can’t do this!” the brown earth pony stallion cried as he was hauled out of the cage by three men in chains. “I am an American citizen, I have my rights— Ough!” Blood splashed across the asphalt as he was smacked across the muzzle with a truncheon.

“Rights?” spat the man in the tattered green beanie. “You’re a pony, you ain’t got no fuckin’ rights!” He kicked the stallion in the stomach. The earth pony fell to the ground, gasping for breath as he buckled from the pain. “Put him in the Goddamned container!”

Caramel Apple whimpered from within her own rain-soaked cage as she watched them drag the poor stallion into yet another one of those enormous metal boxes. The yellow mare bit her bottom lip, cursing herself for paying no mind to Uncle Orange’s advice. She wasn’t supposed to be here. In fact, she wasn’t even American, but ever since that Solaris-damned bill was passed, humans had been snatching ponies off the streets like dog catchers. They’d grabbed her three days ago while she was out shopping for groceries. She remembered crying out to the humans across the street for help, but none of them would come to her aid.

Some laughed. Some looked on powerlessly from afar. Some just whistled a tune, and went straight back inside that darned diner for another cup of Joe. She gritted her teeth, feeling her bitter tears disappear in the currents of the falling rain. They didn’t care, and she was a fool to expect otherwise.

“Lady, are you alright?”

Caramel’s emerald green eyes settled on a little unicorn filly next to her. “Hmm.” Caramel nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes and putting on a smile. “Ahm fine, sugarcube. Just the rain, that’s all. What’s yer name?”

“J-Jubileena,” the filly replied.

“That’s a nice name ya got there, I’m Caramel Apple. Call me Caramel.” She reached up to tip her Stetson, sighing when she realized it wasn’t there. She must have dropped it in the alley where they took her. No doubt the rats would’ve taken it apart by now. “So, where are your parents?”

The filly’s pained look drew an instant sense of regret. “Ah… ah didn’t mean—”

“We were at the park when they grabbed us. They were about to take us away, when a couple of cops came out of nowhere.” She leaned against Caramel’s side, trembling from the frigid ocean breeze. “They started shooting at each other. Mom and dad were too heavy to make off on foot, so they left them behind.”

“Aw, sugarcube.” Caramel’s expression softened. “Come here.” She pulled the little filly into her embrace. “Everythin’s gonna be alright, you’ll see.” She stroked the little filly’s strawberry mane.

Jubileena sniffled and wrapped her little hooves around the mare’s waist, burying her muzzle into her fur. “I just… I just wanna go home.”

“It’s okay. We’ll find a way outta this. I promise.” The cage door squealed violently against its hinges. Caramel screamed as someone grabbed her by the mane and dragged her into the open.

“Miss Caramel!” the little filly yelled after her.

“Let me loose, you buckin’ bastards!” Caramel trashed and screamed with all her might, only to have him yank harder than before. “Argh, I swear I’m gonna buck the livin’ daylights outta you cunts!”

“Shut your trap, nag!” the same man with the beanie yelled. He craned his neck to the one standing next to him. “Harry, don’t just stand there like a fuckin’ idiot. Grab the runt!”

The man known as Harry scoffed, removing the half-splintered toothpick from between his teeth. “Jesus, Marv. Would it kill ya to say please?” He shook his head, making his way to the cage. “It’s not like I’m askin’ for the world or anythin’ here, ya know?”

“No! Go away, stay back!” Jubelina backed herself against the far end of the cage as the man stuck his hand in after her. “Don’t touch me! Help!” she cried, kicking him hard with her hooves.

“Ow, hey, cut that out!” Harry flinched from the sudden pain lacing his arm. “Ya dirty little bitch, come ‘ere!”He barred his teeth.

“No, let me go!” the little filly cried as Harry grabbed her by the tail and dragged her out like a little lost puppy. “Mommy, Daddy, Miss Caramel, help me!”

“No! Let ‘er go— Argh!” a sharp pain shot across Caramel’s muzzle where Marv had struck her with the truncheon. She screwed her eyes shut, clenching her teeth as the familiar taste of blood and rainwater flooded her mouth.

“Come on, man, why you gotta keep doin’ that? You know the boss wants them in one piece or we don’t get paid.” Harry followed behind him, dangling the sobbing filly by the scruff of her neck.

“Cause I’m wet, I’m tired, I’m havin’ a real shitty day, and you ain’t helpin’.” Marv hauled the mare across the asphalt toward the nearest container. “But please, if you wanna make me feel better, let me crack open your fuckin’ head.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, now ya say please.”

Lightning surged across the blackened clouds overhead. Like a vicious beast, the sky roared with thunder. While being dragged by her captors, Caramel took a brief sweep of her surroundings. Harry and Marv aside, there were at least two more standing guard, and both armed to the teeth. Solaris-dammit, she cursed under her breath.

“Get in there!” Marv threw the mare into the container. Caramel slammed her head hard against the metal wall, a cry of pain escaped her along with the panicked screams of a dozen more ponies already inside. “Can it, all of you!” He hammered his fist against the metal door.

The mare gritted her teeth, riveting her hateful stare at the man just as Harry came into view. “No, no, please!” Jubelina begged through her tears.

“Alright, runt. In ya go!” He tossed her inside like a rag doll.

“Jubelina!” Caramel rolled over and caught the screaming filly in her hooves. She hugged her close, caressing her gently. “Hush, hush, sugarcube. It’s alright, Ah got ya.”

Harry slapped his hands together. “Well, that’s done. Let’s go get the others. Sooner we get home, the sooner we eat, and I’m starvin’.”

Caramel looked up, her gaze laced with spite as she watched the two men turn to leave. “You buckin’ cowards!” she cried after them.

Both Marv and Harry stopped in their tracks. The look Marv shot the pale-yellow mare was as sour as poison. “The fuck you just say, nag?” He tightened his grip on the handle of his truncheon.

“Marv, let it go. Remember, we need her in one piece.” Marv shoved the tip of the weathered black club in Harry’s face. The man flinched and raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy. Remember what the doctor said.”

“Flap your gums one more time. Come on, you piece of asswipe. Come on, I dare you,” Marv seethed through clenched teeth. “As for you—” He returned his sights to the earth pony before him. “If we ain’t getting a grand a box, I’d be beating you half to death right now.”

She spat to the floor. “Ya varmints don’t scare me!”

“Please, please just let us go!” Caramel turned to a sky-blue pegasus mare at the end of the container. “We didn’t do anything wrong. Please, I have a daughter!”

“SHUT UP!” Marv struck the door with a loud clang as the mares screamed yet again. “You nags don’t get it do you?” He then gestured with a wave of his club. “You belong to us now. All of you.”

“I’m scared,” Jubelina whispered through her teary sobs. She buried her head in the crook of Caramel’s neck. “Please make it stop, Miss Caramel.”

Caramel closed her eyes, holding the little filly tightly in her hooves. “Ahm’ sorry, sugarcube. Ahm’ so sorry.”

“So scream all you Goddamn want, because no one here gives a fuck about you. No one— URK!”

Caramel gasped as she was hit in the face with a spray of crimson. She coughed, and spat. The Solaris-awful taste was sharp, and coppery on her tongue like old pennies. Her eyes snapped wide open at the horrifying sight of Marv with a pointed arrowhead through his Adam’s apple. He choked. His eyeballs rolled to the back of his head. His sounds of gurgling filled the container as he clutched his bleeding throat. Blood oozed through the spaces between his fingers as he dropped face-first to the asphalt.

“Jesus Christ, Marv!” A ghastly whiteness spread across Harry’s face, oblivious to the ominous shadow racing up behind him.

The human-like figure leaped into the air, kicking off the container door and swinging the grip of a bow in the direction of Harry’s face. The man quivered. His irises shrunk to the size of pinheads. A flash of silver irradiated in the bolt of lightning. The mounted blade sliced deep into his cheek. Harry screamed. His head twisting as he fell to the ground.

The shadow landed on his feet and strung his bow. The sound of the arrow leaving the quiver pierced the air like the thrill of a reaper’s scythe. He let loose the first arrow. It struck the first guard right between the eyes.

“Son of a bitch!” the second one cried. He cocked his gun, only to take an arrow straight to the heart. He fell back-first into the asphalt, wide-eyed, never to breathe again.

“Oh, God…” Harry covered his face in an effort to stop the bleeding. He turned to the figure of a man towering over him. “You fuckin’ son of a—”

The shadow shifted his weight and socked Harry across the face, knocking him down for good.

“Miss Caramel, what’s going on?” Jubelina pulled away for a better look, but Caramel held her tightly, her eyes fixed on Marv’s now lifeless body as it turned the rain puddles red. “Miss Caramel, what happened?”

“Hush, sugarcube. It’s nothin’.” Caramel cooed the little filly and rocked her gently in her hooves. She then turned her attention to her mysterious savior. “Ain’t nothin’ to be worried ‘bout.”

At six feet tall, he towered over the ponies, as do most humans. His rugged, emerald green leather jacket glistened like a suit of armour in the fog lights overhead. Caramel couldn’t see his face, not entirely, for his eyes were shrouded in the shadow of his hood. Caramel swallowed hard, though as her gaze settled on the longbow gripped tightly in his hand, the realization hit her like raging buffalo on a stampede.

“Hey… you…” The man shifted in her direction. “Ah know you… yer the Hood… the one from the radio. Yer him, aren’t ya?”

The Hood, however, offered no reply. Instead, he turned his attention to the rest of the mares currently huddled at the back. “Head down Forty-Fourth Street.” His was voice was deep and gravelly, most likely forced. “Stick to the lights. Flag down the first officer you see. Tell him what happened here.”

The mares lay frozen in place, exchanging glances with one another as if the secrets of the universe lay scribbled upon their faces.

“Go!” the Hood slammed his fist against the metal door. The mares shrieked, stumbling to their hooves as they made a run for it. “You too,” he said to the yellow mare.

Caramel nodded. “Jubelina, darlin’, I need ya to do somethin’ for me,” she said to the little pink filly in her arms. “I need ya to close yer eyes, and don’t you open them until I tell ya to, okay?”

Jubelina nodded. “Okay, Miss Caramel.”

“That’s mah girl.” Caramel rose to her hooves, shifting the little filly onto her back. “Hold on tight now, ya hear?” She shot the Hood one last glance. “Whoever you are, thank ya kindly. I’ll never forget what you’ve done today, for me and for her.”

The Hood nodded. Rainwater trailed down the edges of his rough shaven chin. He snapped his head back at the ominous click of a gun. He leapt into the air. A gunshot tore through drumming rain. A flash illuminating the inside of the container as both Caramel and Jubelina screamed. The Hood twisted in mind-air and landed, knee-first on Harry’s chest.

“Ugh!” Harry choked to the sounds of his snapping rib. Blood and saliva spluttered through the spaces between his teeth. Grunting, Harry took aim and fired.

The Hood dodged. The bullet missed him by a hair. He dismounted the curved blade from the grip of his bow, and took Harry’s hand off at the wrist.

“Argh, you motherfucker!” Harry clutched his mutilated stump. Torrents of blood spouted and poured from his open wound, drenching his fingers. “You fuckin’ piece of shit!”

The Hood grabbed Harry by the throat. “Go!” he cried over his shoulder.

“Hold on, sugarcube!” Caramel then took down the docks as fast as her hooves can carry her.

The last thing she heard was Harry’s horrifying screams fading into a gurgle.

Frank gritted his teeth through the ringing in his ear canals as thunder rippled through the concrete. He cursed this relentless storm to the depths of Hell and beyond. That damned Stykes. Frank intended to have a long and serious discussion with that two-timing nitwit, that’s if he could keep himself long enough from ringing his whiny little neck.

“Hey, hey, watch it!” Frank called out to the men on the crane while they lowered another container onto the truck. “Anything happens to the merchandise, I feed you to the fishes. Kapish?”

“That’s six.” Sloan pulled down on his leather barrette. “Two more and we’re set.”

“Good. Now get to the stores and grab every piece you can find.” Frank reached into his pockets. He pulled out a set of keys and tossed it to Sloan. “I want every man packed and ready when we head through the Glades.”

The stocky man bit his bottom lip. “Boss, you can’t be serious. I mean, I know they’re payin’ us an arm and a limb, but goin’ to war with Brick—”

“Sloan!” Frank snarled as Sloan squealed like a stout pig. “Flap your stinkin’ gums one more fuckin’ time, and I swear to all that is holy and right in this world, I’m gonna—” The sound of thunder cracked the air. Frank balked, and snapped his gaze to the distance. “The fuck was that?”

It was faint, but Frank knew the difference between a rumble of thunder and that of a gunshot. “Who’s workin’ the boxes down there?” He gestured to the far end of the docks.

“Um…” Sloan began twirling his thumbs. A sheepish grin on his face. “Harry and Marv?”

“Oh, those idiots. Jesus Christ.” Frank ran a hand down the length of his face. He whistled to the men huddled around a stack of cages. “Hey, go check it out. You see anyone pokin’ their noses where they don’t belong, ice ‘em.”

“You got it, Boss,” one of them replied. “Come on boys. Let’s go see what kinda shitstorm Harry and Marv’s kicked up this time.” He cocked his Thompson.

“Maybe Marv finally snapped, and capped the son of a gun,” the other said with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t blame ‘im. Ole’ Harry could drive a monk up a wall.” The third one shouldered his rifle. “Just wonderin’ what took ‘im so long.”

“Now where were we? Oh, yeah, you—” Frank jumped at sound of a high-pitched scream. He felt the bile churning in his throat. “Tell me you heard that too.”

Sloan nodded in response.

Awful, tortured screaming blared across the docks, drowned in cacophony of gunfire. Burst of muzzle flashes lit up the bare spaces between the myriads of stacked containers.

“Shit, shoot him, shoot him, sho— Urgk!”

“Victor! You son of a bitch, motherfuc— Ough!”

“No, no please. PLEASE, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna— ARGH!”

Frank snapped his eyes from side to side. He tailed every cry and every ping of a bullet against hardened steel. His men were screaming and screeching. Some sobbed and sniveled with fear, but all met the same fate. Frank tried to maintain his steadfast composure. But something distracted him… a sound. Over the whooping and wheezing of the dying, he swore he heard something slicing through the air, one after the other, meeting their mark with pinpoint accuracy. His bowels twisted in his gut. His throat burned with that same searing sensation from before.

He knew that sound. Christ, he knew that God-awful sound.

“The fuck is going on!” he yelled through the chaos. “Someone talk to me, someone—”

“Boss, look out!” Sloan tackled Frank out of the way as body came crashing head-first into the concrete below. It slammed against the floor, glazing it with a splash of red and brain matter.

“Phew.” Sloan panted. “Sure was a close one, ain’t that right, Boss?” He paused, noticing the color had begun to fade from Frank’s now terrified expression. “Boss?”

“No…” Terror scraped Frank’s voice raw as he stood petrified at the sight of a green arrow protruding from the man’s chest. “No… no… no…”

“Boss, what’s goin’ on?”

“This ain’t happening.” He dug his frantic fingers deep into his scalp and grabbed fistfuls of his dirty blonde hair. “This ain’t happening!”

“Boss!” Sloan grabbed the now trembling man by the shoulders. “Pull yerself together. We gotta get you outta here.” He pulled a gun from within his coat. “Come on, move it!”

Both men raced down the docks, making a mad dash for Frank’s Rolls. Frank tore up the ground beneath his feet as if the Devil himself was on his tail, paying no mind to his prized Italian loafers scraping against the asphalt. Adrenaline, like poison, coursed through his veins, egging him forward with every terror-stricken plea for mercy, only to be silenced with slice of a blade or a twang of a bowstring. A labored shriek escaped him as the carnage grew ever closer. He gasped with every breath he took as he struggled to feed his now burning lungs. As the car came into sight, for a moment Frank had every reason to hope. He was going to make it.

“Come on, get in!” Sloan grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open. “Get in. Get i—”

Sloan slumped, back-first against the Rolls. An arrow buried deep in his right eye socket. Frank felt his throat locked. His knees buckled as he watched the light fade from the man’s good eye.

“Shit!” Frank jumped into the back seat. “Get us out of here, get us—” He froze at the sight of his driver, and the arrow through his skull.

“Son of a bitch!” Frank kicked the door open and dropped to his knees. He stumbled, making a grab for Sloan’s handgun. He unhooked the magazine. Fully convinced it was loaded, he slid it back in and cocked it.

“I know you’re here, you motherfucker!” Frank raised his gun. The weapon trembled in grip of his cold, jittery fingers. “So, why don’t you come on out and fight me like a real man, huh?”

It was quiet. He knew his men were all dead and gone. The fact that the gunfire and screaming had stopped was evidence enough. Frank wheezed, sucking the air in through the spaces between his clenched teeth. His frantic eyes snapping left to right, searching the creeping shadows in vain for any signs of life.

There was a clang of metal against the containers on the right.

Frank opened fire. The gun reverberated in his hand. The force rippled down his arms. The bullets drew nothing but spark against the rusted metal as brass shells tinkled across the ground. “Where are you?” he muttered under his breath.

He blinked the raindrops from his eyes. His racing heart pounded against his chest like a brass band. “Where are you?”

A shadow streaked across one of the containers.

Frank opened fire, riddling the metal walls with more bullets, but to no avail.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

His jaw clenched. His body tensed. His finger squeezed hard on the trigger. The clip emptied, and then the slide locked.

Fuck…

Frank screamed as something sharp shot straight through his right calve. He was pulled off balance and dragged across the asphalt. Frank thrashed and clawed at the ground like a trapped coyote. His world soon turned upside down as he was raised feet-first into the air and dangled from a beam of the crane.

“Oh, oh shit. Fuck!” Between the incessant pounding in his head and the ungodly pain in his leg, the world faded to a blur. “Let me down. Let me down. Oh, God…”

“He can’t help you.”

Frank snapped his gaze to the dark space between two metal containers. Stepping into the light, the visage of a man clad in a green hood soon came into focus. “You…”

“Frank Bertinelli.” The Hood spoke Frank’s name, his tone baneful and grim. “You have failed this city.”

Frank forced a laugh. “So…” He barred his teeth and snarled. “You’re the no good, piece of shit icin’ everyone else?” He cleared his throat, and spat to the floor. “You killed my men. You killed Sloan. So, now you’re here to finish me off? Fuck you!”

The Hood however, remained stoic.

“But you know what? You’re wasting your Goddamned time. Bump me off, another one takes my place. Ain’t nothin’s gonna change.” Frank continued. “Sides, Morgan, Barrera, Brodeur? We all work for the same guy!”

There was a sound of stretching leather as the Hood tightened his grip on the handle of his bow at the sight of Frank’s smug grin.

“You wanna know who this dock belongs to? Who’s leading this whole shindig?” Frank barred his teeth. “Adam Queen!”

Thunder cracked the sky open, and the dock lit ablaze in a flash of lighting. In that brief moment, their eyes met. Looking back at him was no man. Through the loose strands of the Hood’s dirty blonde hair were savage irises of pale-blue devoid of all emotion. Save for one. There was hatred in those eyes, a pure and human hatred. Frank swallowed hard.

The windows rattled within their wooden frames. That last boom of thunder shook the hospital to its foundation. He peered through the thick curtain of rain, falling endlessly upon a city he once called home. He pulled a deep breath. A part of him yearned for some fresh air, far from the burning scent of rubbing alcohol and bleach. He hated every inch of this room. Confined within these four white-plastered walls, he felt more and more like a caged animal with every passing day.

But after the island, everything he once thought familiar was now different. Things had changed, and not for the better. Starling City was once a beacon of hope. Now its streets ran rife with poverty, crime and corruption. The rich and powerful took what they wanted. They spent their days looking down from their ivory towers upon the scum riddled gutters with devilish smiles, sipping on liquid gold as they bled the life from this city, penny and dime. His fingers curled into fists, eyes gazing at his bare reflection in the clear glass window with hostility as pure and concentrated as acid.

He snapped his eyes to the sound of footsteps outside his door. They were whispering, attempting to be discreet, but he could hear them clear as day.

“How is he, Doctor Thompkins?” The first voice was male, middle aged.

There was a sigh, a feminine one. “Mister Queen, twenty percent of his body is covered in scar tissue.” Definitely a voice of a woman, also middle aged. “Most of them are man-made.”

“Oh, dear God,” said Mister Queen.

“He has third degree burns on his arms, and back,” Doctor Thompkins continued. “X-rays confirmed almost a dozen fractures that never properly healed.”

“Leslie, has… has he said anything about what happened?”

He heard Doctor Thompkins sigh. “No. In fact, he hardly spoke at all.”

There was a brief silence between the two individuals. Save for the one squeaky wheel on the front left end of a passing medical cart, and the rattling of surgical tools being transported.

“Mister Queen… Adam.” Doctor Thompkins paused. “As a friend, I want you to prepare yourself. The Robert you lost might not be the one they found.”

“No.” Adam sounded exasperated, almost in denial. “No, he’s Robert. He’s our Robert. Nothing has changed.” The sound of his footsteps suggested he was pacing back and forth.

“Adam, I know you and Lea want to believe that, and honestly I do too.” Doctor Thompkins said. “But you cannot deny the plain, and simple truth. Something happened to him on that island, something terrible. He’s damaged, and he needs you now, more than ever.”

Queen took a deep breath. “Alright… can I see him?”

Robert froze.

“Just be gentle with him.” Doctor Thompkins said. “That island… the men who found your son called it, Lian Yu,” she added.

“Lian… Yu?”Adam asked, clearly confused. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Mandarin, it means purgatory,” she said, turning to leave. “But if you ask me, after what I’ve seen, they should have called it Hell.” The sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The door opened with a soft thump. The distinctive sound of loafers squeaking against the polished marble floor as Adam entered the room. His steps were slow, cautious, growing louder as he grew ever closer. The smell of antiseptic was soon replaced by a sweet, smoky scent of cologne. Old Spice, his favorite. He never left home without it.

“Robert…” Adam’s voice was soft, almost comforting.

Robert turned around, slowly. Face to face with one another, Adam took an unconscious step back, and with good reason. The person standing before him was no longer the timid little boy Adam knew all those years ago. There was something feral behind Robert’s eyes, something vicious and cold. A familiar scent came off the older man like musk of an ox, flaring in Robert’s nostrils.

Fear.

“Hey… dad.”

“Wake up, Robbie!”

Robert coughed, reeling in like a punch drunk boxer from the awful slap to his chest as he was jolted awake. He blinked the sleep from his eyes. Slowly, but surely, his vision returned to the scrolling sight of passing buildings. He licked his parched lips, repulsed by the putrid sourness of dried saliva rolling upon the surface of his tongue. It had been hours since he had anything to drink, let alone eat. The continuous grumbling in his stomach can vouch for that.

The plane ride from Starling to D.C. was horrendous. Air travel remained a luxury to the wealthy and privileged, but Robert had always considered it an ordeal rather than comfort. Why wouldn’t it be? Robert thought. Confined in a flying metal death trap for hours at a time where the only thing close to entertainment was listening to some self-entitled, Ivy League brat throw a temper tantrum because daddy dearest refused him one of those brand-new Cadillacs.

Robert scoffed as he straightened his black pair of tees, tucking what was left of it into his matching denim jeans. Then again, there was a time in his life where things weren’t so different after all. Speaking of which. Robert shifted in the Cadillac’s fresh leather seat. With the top down, he took deep breaths of the cold, thick morning air, relishing the city stench of smog, dirt, and humanity.

“You know Queen, feel free to tell me if I’m boring the heck outta you. I’ll just shut the Hell up.”

“No.” Robert groaned, turning to driver in the well-pressed, navy blue suit. “Sorry Tommy… it’s just.” He shrugged and wiped the crust from his eyes. “It’s just been a long flight. Sides, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep.”

Tommy flashed a cheeky grin. “Whoa, chill. I’m just messing with you. Plane ride—” He pursed his lips and gestured with a wave of his hand. “—completely understand. My old man always comes home crankier than a bat in sunlight.”

Robert chuckled and smiled. “Heh, tell me about it.” Shutting his eyes, he rested his elbow atop the car door and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Give me a bunk bed, and a train ride any day.”

“Damn, Robbie. Was that a smile? I mean an actual smile?” Tommy pulled down on his pair of aviators, revealing his dull grey eyes. “Christ, and here I thought you were dead inside.”

“Oh, you would like that wouldn’t you?” Robert bobbed his eyebrows.

“No, I’m serious.” Tommy pushed his sunglasses back up the ridge of his nose. “You know, with everything that’s happened and all.” He took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks before exhaling. “Seven years.”

Robert said nothing. He lifted his gaze to the morning sky as he watched the hues of grey growing lighter with the rise of the morning sun, the few remaining stars gradually blinking out of existence. The Cadillac came to a slow and steady halt to the bright red flash of an overhead traffic light, splashing the white-washed dashboard in a shade of bright maroon.

A loud bang made Robert flinch. His breaths grew sharp. His heart raced. Eyes narrowed. He snapped his head to the source; a dark alley on the left to the sight of moss green earth pony slamming the top lid over a trash can.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t want talk about it but—” Tommy cocked an eyebrow. “Hey, Robbie, you okay?” he asked, clearly taken back by the sudden murderous glint in Robert’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Robert’s expression softened. He gave a bland smile in return as he released his death grip on the top of the car door. “Sorry, it’s nothing. Just… distracted, that’s all.”

“Shit, its worse I thought.” Tommy patted him on the shoulder. “Well, least you got ole’ Tommy here to whip you back into shape. So here’s what we’re gonna do, we’re gonna head on home, freshen up, then we’re gonna light this town on—”

“Actually, Tommy.” Robert interrupted. “I think I’m just gonna take a rain check.”

Tommy arched his eyebrows. “You serious? Hell, after everything you’ve been through, I thought—”

“I appreciate the sentiment. Just not today.”

Tommy shrugged, and then looked away, eyes rolling. “Alright, suit yourself.” He sounded more upset than disappointed. “Some other time then.” He leaned back in on the accelerator, setting the car back in motion as the lights turned green.

Robert sighed, feeling a tinge of guilt chafing at his conscience like sandpaper. “Thanks,” he said.

“What for?” Tommy asked, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

“For everything.” Robert replied. “Things haven’t exactly been—” He drew a sharp breath. “—easy, since I’ve been back. So much has changed. Hell, I hardly recognize my own home.” He sighed, glancing at his reflection in the rear view mirror. “I hardly recognize myself.”

Tommy pulled down on his aviators and shot him a sideways glance.

“Everyone’s been trying to get me to open up. To be somebody I’m not sure who I am anymore.” He turned to Tommy and smiled. “But you… you didn’t care. All these years and you picked up right where we left off. A guy can’t ask for a better friend, so thank you.”

Tommy chuckled. “Aw, Robbie, you aren’t getting all sappy on me now, are you?” he asked. “’Sides, what are best friends for? We’ve had each other’s backs since the fourth grade, and I’m gonna have your back till the end.”

“And you know what, it’s way too early for this kinda talk. I think it’s time for some tunes.” Tommy said with a cheeky grin. “Wait till you hear the sound on this baby.” He turned the knobs of his analogue radio as it come to life with grainy sounds of static. “Come on, come on… there we go!”

“Good morning Washington D.C., I am Lana Lane with today’s trending headlines. In light of the recent San Francisco riots, Vice President Robert Kelly had encouraged local city councils to expedite the enforcement of the Pony Registration Act for the safety of the public.”

“Oh, come on.” Tommy groused, smacking his hand on the ivory steering wheel. “Really, this shit again? I’m telling you Robbie, if I have to hear the words Pony Registration Act one more time, I swear I’m gonna hang myself.”

Robert cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t agree with the new act?” he asked, clearly surprised. “And here I thought I was the only one.”

“Fuck, no.” Tommy scoffed. “Look just because both our dads are playing ring around the rosy with those asswipes in the Church of Humanity, and Humanity’s Last Stand, that doesn’t mean we should too.”

“Hey, I’m with you, pal. No arguments there.” Robert put both his hands behind his head and leaned back into his seat. “But tell me something. Why the sudden interest? I mean, politics bore the heck outta you.” Robert replied. “Especially when it came to ponies. It’s almost as if you’ve been—” Robert balked the moment he saw Tommy’s crooked grin.

“No… noo.” Robert gestured with a wave of his finger, pulling a smile in disbelief. “Seriously Tommy?”

“Hey, once you taste the rainbow, ain’t nothing else comes close.” Tommy tossed back his jet black hair. “And I swear, you have no idea how crazy those pegasi are. I mean, they can go at it all night long.” Tommy clicked his tongue and winked.

“Oh, get bent, Tommy. That’s gross.” Robert groaned.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, my friend. I know every mare here in D.C., and if ponies aren’t your thing.” Tommy flashed him a toothy grin. “I can hook you up with a couple of griffins. Them kitty cat’s got claws. Mreow.” He curled his fingers at Robert.

“… as Starling City millionaire Adam Queen…”

As Robert opened his mouth to speak, he stopped, and then riveted his gaze at the radio’s illuminated surface.

“…drew wide spread criticism from pony activist groups across the United States of America after his controversial speech at the White House, three days ago, in regards to the national controversy surrounding the Pony Registration Act. According to Mister Queen, the ponies have no place in America, and will remain a threat and a liability to the nation was a whole should they be allowed to retain their civil liberties. This however, was retorted by Doctor Henry McCoy, longtime advocate of pony rights and human ambassador of SPECTRUM, a non-governmental pony rights organization.”

Robert curled his fists. Something swelled within his chest. The impending rage swirled within him like a noxious concoction. Tommy's expression grew soft with concern.

“It would seem that Mister Adam Queen isn’t the only member of the Queen Family making headlines across the country as of late. The family had become a Starling City sensation with the unbelievable discovery of their youngest son, Robert Queen.”

“Well!” Tommy exclaimed suddenly, and cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough music for one day. Sides, I’ve always liked it better quiet anyways. ” He then made a reach for the silver dial.

“No,” Robert interjected, as Tommy stopped mid-way. “Just… give me a moment, will you?”

“The Starling City resident was found by fisherman on a deserted island in the middle of the North China Sea six months ago, seven years after he went missing, and was presumed dead, following his unexplained disappearance from his family estate. Starling City Police Department had ruled out possibilities of a kidnapping, and since no ransom demand was made, detectives had made speculations that Robert, who was sixteen at the time, may have left on his own accord. These allegations were disputed by Queen’s lawyers, stating that they were merely assumptions.”

“Then, barely three months later, police uncovered the shocking death of Julian Queen, who was found brutally murdered in the back alleys of Starling City. Julian, who was only twenty-eight years old at the time, was the eldest, and heir to the Queen Empire. The Starling City Police Department had classified the case as a robbery turned homicide, but detectives had made speculations that Julian may had been yet another target in a string of murders. Victims had included the children of Starling’s elites, and friends of the deceased such as Leo Muller, Monty Cora, and Marcus Redman.”

“Damn.” Tommy took a deep breath and exhaled through his teeth. “I know Starling’s never been all sunshine and rainbows, but Jesus, that’s some dark shit right there.”

“In other news, officers are in pursuit of a lone vigilante the Starling City Police Department had dubbed ‘The Hood’. According to eyewitness account, police have reason to believe that The Hood is single-handedly responsible for over a dozen high profile murders. Despite the victim’s alleged ties to Starling City underworld, police are yet to determine his motives. Eyewitness reports had placed this mysterious vigilante at the scene of over a dozen more murders involving small-time criminals, gang members, and a number of private security contractors under the employment of Stagg Industries. In light of these recent events, the S.C.P.D had assembled a special task force to capture the Hood, led by Detective Ronald Lance.”

Robert’s fists tightened a little more.

“Lance…” Tommy muttered to himself. “Now where have I heard that name before?” He repeated the name several times, tapping his finger on the tip of his chin. His eyes snapped open. “Wait a minute, wasn’t he the guy who—”

Robert turned the radio off. “Civilization after seven Goddamned years, and the music still blows.”

“Robbie…” Tommy said. “I…”

“Yeah, Tommy, he was the detective who worked Julian’s case. They never caught the guy, though.” Robert turned away, watching the lights within the passing stores flicker on as their keepers readied themselves for the day ahead.

“Yeah, I heard. You know, I didn’t get a chance to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to Julian, and for not being there for the funeral.” Tommy pushed up on his aviators.

Robert scoffed. “I’m not.”

Tommy cocked an eyebrow. “Come on Robbie, the guy may have been a fucking asshole, but he was still your brother.”

“Really Tommy?” Robert shot him a surprised, almost angry look. “Are you actually defending him, after what he did to you? Remember what happened at the well?”

Tommy’s hands tightened on the steering wheel at the mention of the well. “Look, what’s done is done. All water under the bridge. I know Julian’s a little nicked in the head but—”

“The guy was a fucking psychopath and a sadistic son of a bitch,” Robert spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t know about you, but what happened in that alley had been a long time coming.”

Tommy let out a sharp whistle and shook his head. “Fuck, Robbie, what… what happened to you on that island?”

Robert eyes gently slid closed. A cold wash of memory prickled his skin, almost like ice. The sounds of laughter. Twisted smiles on blurry faces. He gritted his teeth as a scream echoed in the depths of his mind. Rage flooded through him, a hot tide through his veins. He didn’t forget that night at the alley. He would never forget, nor would he forgive.

He reopened his eyes. His gaze burned at his hardened reflection on the surface of the car’s rear view mirror.

“A lot.”

Rising early in Washington D.C. allows you to hear the birds in the morning. Father Redmayne took his father’s words to heart, and forty-five years later, he still remembered it as if it were yesterday. How he loved the melodic voices of robins whistling from upon the power lines, or the joyful chirps of a simple sparrow. By the steps of the Capitol Building, the old aqua stallion drew a deep breath. The chilly morning air filled his lungs to the brim, only to make him cough as dust scraped the back of his throat. He adjusted the bent pair of gold-rimmed glasses sitting askew on the bridge of his muzzle.

A pair of turquoise eyes followed the passing cars cruising down the freshly tarred asphalt in the wee hours of the morning. The scent of roasted coffee and ink off the morning paper drifted faintly in the slow city breeze. The city roused from its slumber to yet another day in this dredging city. For the ponies, however, today would mark a brand new day in their ongoing struggle against America’s new law of oppression, the Pony Registration Act.

“Father Redmayne.” The old stallion turned to a younger earth pony stallion dressed in a charcoal grey suit. A moss green pegasus mare trotted alongside him with a white picket sign held firmly between her wing bearing the words: Return Our Civil Rights.

Father Red drew a welcoming smile. “Wesley, I am glad you could join us.” The two stallions exchanged a hoof shake.

“Not even the commies could keep me away,” Wesley said with a radiant smile. “I believe you’ve met my wife, Morning Dew.” He turned to the mare beside him.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” she said, her smile gleaming in the amber glow of the street lamps. “You’re a brave pony, Father Red, and I’m thankful for it. For us and our foals.”

“A pleasure, Missus Dew, but I am afraid I am unworthy of your praise,” he replied, lifting a hoof to the silver crucifix dangling beneath his clerical collar. “My courage comes from the Lord.”

“Amen, Father Red,” Morning Dew said.

Father Red shifted back a strand of auburn mane that was obscuring his eyesight. “Well then, shall we?” he gestured to the open field in the distance – to a growing crowd of ponies already converging at the center.

“Let’s go get our country back.” As Wesley took his first step forward, he stopped, noticing a hoard of school busses, pickup trucks, and cars pulling up by the steps of the Smithsonian. As an army of people began dismounting their vehicles with weapons, he knew for a fact they weren’t here for Free Day. “Oh, no,” he muttered.

“Quickly, to the field.” Father Red took off in a huff.

“Alright, places everypony. We’ll start once the sun comes up. Let’s give it all we have, ponies and together, we’ll make them listen,” Dusk Shine said to the assembling crowd of ponies.

“Let’s do this, everypony.” A pink pegasus mare cheered, raising her picket sign while the others joined her in cheer.

The unicorn was never one for governance and politics, but having been stranded on a foreign land for the unforeseeable future, one tends to be a quick study. Moons had passed since the attempt on President Eisenhower’s life, and the establishment of the Pony Registration Act, requiring every pony to be registered and interned. What they had failed to mention, however, is that the act involved every pony, including non-Americans. As of now, thousands of ponies had been left stranded across the United States with their travel documents confiscated or made null, making it impossible to leave. If not for Father Redmayne and his church, Dusk would have found himself without food, shelter, and perhaps even without a cause.

Just like his fellow Equestrians, Dusk had found himself a prisoner of circumstance, one of many unfortunate souls caught in the crossfire of fear and fury. How long has it been since I spoke to mom and dad? His heart sunk at the thought. They must be worried sick. He would give anything to send word: a letter, a telegram, anything, just to tell them that he was alright. The government had suspended all communications to Equestria, stating national security. Dusk, on the other hoof, thought it was just a convenient excuse to box them in and leave them easy pickings for those bloodthirsty cowards in white robes.

“Dusk Shine!” The stallion felt a nudge on his side. An orange earth pony pointed to a crowd of humans approaching them from the far end of the field. “Looks like we got company.”

“Speak of the Devil,” Dusk cursed, feeling the strands of his lavender coat stand on end. “Dammit, Appleseed. It’s the H.L.S. and the C.O.H. How in Tartarus did they know we were here?”

“Ah don’t know, but ahm willin’ to bet mah bits they ain’t here for the sandwiches.” Appleseed tipped his olive Stetson. “Ya say the word, and ah’ll buck those sons of bitches back to where they came from.”

Appleseed is a fellow denizen of Ponyville, and one of Dusk Shine’s best friends. Back home, the rough, tough, and gritty earth pony was as strong as he was ill tempered. The Apple Family backs down from nothin’, he would constantly recite like a mantra. Before the Act came to power, both stallions had been on a business trip, negotiating a trade route between the two nations. Now stuck abroad, and at the mercy of racists and extremists, Dusk feared the day his dear friend’s legendary Apple Family temper might finally get the better of him.

“No.” Dusk gestured with a wave of his hoof. “This has to be a peaceful. Father Red said they can’t attack us unless we fight back,” he said.

“So what?” Appleseed cleared his throat and spat to the grass. “We just stand here, prayin’ to Solaris they won’t bash our brains in?” His maroon eyes narrowed at the sight of two more busses.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’re not in Equestria anymore,” Dusk’s eyes glistened with concern. “And if we’re ever going to see home again, we need that Act repealed. To do that, we have to play by their rules.”

“Buck this shit.” Appleseed narrowed gaze.

Dusk grew restless at the sight at the growing crowd. By his estimates, there were almost a hundred people, all white men and women of different ages. Some hid their faces behind white, cone-shaped masks as they converged on a group of ponies barely two dozen strong. They brandished wooden signs, and crudely painted banners, while a good number had baseball bats, metal rods and hunting knives. Crooked smiles began twisting on their malicious faces. On the bright side, Dusk saw no evidence of firearms. At least, for now, he thought. Dusk's eyes searched the area for the police, but to no avail. They were on their own.

The ponies began huddling together, the fear growing in their muffled voices while they offered words of prayer to a deity who had forsaken them all. Dusk knew Father Red had always hated him for his biased views on faith. Christians and Solarians had never seen eye to eye, but Dusk knew this much, no amount of prayer was going to save them now. The only the faith I have, is in my magic, he Dusk thought, feeling his horn burn with a subtle glow. Mass teleportation spells were possible, but risky, and often deadly to both caster and his passengers. Though, he would rather die knowing he had saved innocent ponies, instead of being bludgeoned to death like an alley rat.

“Well ain’t this a sight.” Dusk overheard one of them talking. “Them ponies don’t learn do they?” The sound of a man’s swishing the air with lacquered wood was daunting enough.

“Sure don’t.” The other replied. “Let’s get this done.”

“It’s okay everypony.” Dusk turned to the ponies behind him. “Stand strong and hold your ground. Whatever you do, don’t resist.” His voice brimmed with confidence. “They can’t hurt us if we don’t resist.”

“Ya sure about that, Dusk?” Appleseed’s face hardened at the sound of rattling chains connected to a pair of meat hooks being dragged along by one of the approaching humans. “Cause ah sure as heck don’t.”

“I’m fairly sure.” Dusk narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Just promise me, no matter what happens, you keep your cool.”

Appleseed groaned. “We’re all gonna die.”

The marching hoard of humans stopped a few feet from the group of ponies. Like a citizen’s militia preparing for the heat of battle, they formed a line. The look of hatred and disdain plastered clear on their faces. Dusk could see in their beady little eyes, and fingers wrapped around their barbed-wired clubs just itching for a swing. His innards twisted in knots. Sweat matted his short, two colored mane. The wolves were out, and they were hungry for some pony.

A large man stepped forward, and Dusk took an unconscious step back. At over six feet tall, the man towered over the ponies. The man sucked his beer belly, barely contained within the buttons of his stained lumberjack shirt, and the bands of his jeans.

“Alright you fuckin’ varmints. If you don’t know who we are, we’re the Washington Chapter of the Church of Humanity and Humanity’s Last Stand.” A cocky smile curled on his lips as he shouldered his baseball bat. Clearing his throat, he spat to the grass beneath him. “So why don’t you little ponies get the fuck on home right now, before someone gets hurt?”

Appleseed grunted through his nostrils. “And if we don’t, peckerwood?”

“Seed…” Dusk droned from beside him. “Please don’t.”

“Well, ain’t that cute?” The man brandished his bat in Appleseed’s face. “I think I’ll break you first.”

“Oh, boy.” Appleseed flashed a smile, striking the ground with his right hoof. “Ah sure like to see you try. Now you get that there stick outta mah face before I—”

“Seed, calm down.” Dusk stepped in front of his friend. “Remember, we can’t—”

“Trample off, Dusk!” Appleseed snapped. The rage in his eyes flared like smoldering cinders off a burning log. “Apples don’t back down from nopony. Sure as Tartarus not from some half-wit crackerjack!”

“Solarisdammit, Seed. Listen to me. There are lives at stake here, not just yours,” Dusk whispered furiously. “You go ape on him now, and you put everypony here at risk.” His eyes narrowed. “Could you live with yourself then?”

The anger on Appleseed’s face faded, replaced instead by a dawning realization. He scoffed and slammed his hoof into the ground. The sight of the man’s cocky grin chafed at his insides like gasoline to a flame. On different circumstances, Appleseed would see Jim Bob there flat on his back with his jaw in pieces, but for now, the proud stallion decided to shelf his pride.

“Stop this madness!”

Dusk turned around as Father Red arrived at the scene with two more ponies he recognized as Wesley and his wife, Morning Dew.

“I demand to know who is in charge!”

“Oh, I think you know damned well who’s in charge here,” said a voice marinated in the deepest parts of the South, albeit more refined than most. A balding, slender man dressed in a cream colored suit with a clerical collar around his neck, stepped out from behind the larger man from before.

“Father Moccasin.” Father Red tried hard to hide the grimace in his voice, ultimately failing. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

Father Moccasin’s face was as plain as blank canvas. There was a look in his deep, black eyes, gazing ominously behind his half-moon glasses. It sent shivers down Dusk’s spine. There was no mistaking the face of a hardened soldier who had borne witness the horrors of war within the endless trenches of the Pacific. The deep scar running down his right cheek was evidence enough. It was a look that spoke to the unicorn that before him stood a man without conscience or mercy.

“I’m here to do the Lord’s work, Redmayne,” Father Moccasin said. Though calm, the disdain was clear in his voice. “And as leader of the Washington D.C. chapter of the Church of Humanity, I would advise you and your—” He glared at the group of ponies with pure hatred. “—ponies to leave this place immediately.”

Father Red’s gaze swept through the crowd of a hundred strong, his eyes deep in thought. Even so, Dusk could tell that he was nervous. “We ponies have the right to assemble and protest peacefully. Your presence here is a direct violation of the law.”

“Not anymore Redmayne, or have you forgotten?” Father Moccasin looked as if he could barely control his rising anger. “Now, this Christian warning is the only one you’re gonna get. Take your ponies and go back to the sties you crawled out of, or I promise you God’s wrath upon this Earth today.”

“You redneck hillbilly pig-fucker!” Wesley put an angry hoof forward.

Father Moccasin’s face twisted in rage as the crowd grew boisterous in retaliation. Dusk Shine could see the eagerness written all over their faces. They were watching, waiting for a reason to unleash pure savagery upon him and his fellow ponies. King Solaris, if you can hear me, I pray we live to see Equestria again, Dusk thought. If not, I pray my parents know how much I love them.

“I’m fucking American just like you. My daddy served in the war, so did my granddaddy before him. They fought, bled, and died for this country. My country, you Goddamned human piece of shit!”

“Wesley, stop it!” Morning Dew cried, almost in tears from the fear.

“Say the word, Father.”

Dusk turned to a young man who had just broken line. An Ivy Leaguer, judging by the maroon Harvard sweater he was wearing. He drew quick breaths, clearly agitated from the way he was bouncing on his toes

“Say the word, and I’ll bash this fucker’s head in!” He tightened his grip on his baseball bat.

“You will do no such thing!” Father Red yelled. “If you and your chapter harms us in any way, I will have you all arrested, and to answer your question, Father Moccasin. I’m well aware of the new law, but until said law is fully enforced in the great district of Columbia, we ponies will continue to protest on the injustice wrought upon us by the government we have held in regard. It is our duty and our right.”

“Fine,” Father Moccasin replied.

Dust’s felt a cold shiver down his spine as the man’s eyes went killer red.

“If you won’t listen to reason Redmayne, then submit to force.” Father Moccasin turned to the young man in the sweater and nodded.

“Bout fuckin’ time!” the Ivy Leaguer stepped forward and swung his bat at Wesley.

“Wesley, no!” Morning Dew cried out.

The earth pony barely had time to react. He felt a blow to his side as he was pushed to the ground. The bat struck Father Red in the jaw. The old stallion’s eyes screwed shut. A trail of saliva and blood, along with a loose tooth scattered across the grass. He grunted as he hit the ground hard. Father Red moaned.

“Haha, did you see that!” The young man lifted his bat into the air as if he had scored the Yankees a league win. “I cocked that motherfucker!”

“Father Red!” Dusk ran to the old stallion’s side. “Father Red, can you hear me?”

“Father Red… Oh God!” Wesley bit his bottom lip, clearly distraught. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Wesley. Honey, it’s not your fault.” Morning Dew wrapped her hooves around her husband as sobbed into her shoulders. “It’s not your fault.”

“She’s right… Wesley. Stand… strong,” Father Red muttered.

“You son a bitch!” Appleseed snarled, grunting through his nostrils with an almost visible puff of hot air. “I outta break your buckin’ face in!”

“Seed, not now!” Dusk called over his shoulder.

Father Red coughed. “Dusk… take the ponies… take them and run.”

“You see Redmayne.”

Dusk turned his now burning eyes to Father Moccasin.

“This is what you get when you try to be more than what you are.” He adjusted the cufflinks of his white shirt. “You, and your kind are dirt. No, you’re lower than dirt. You’re a pony!”

“Is this it?” Dusk snarled through gritted teeth. “Is this what you call doing the Lord’s work? If beating innocent ponies a means to justify your twisted faith, then I hope you burn in Tartarus!”

Father Moccasin took a deep, staggered breath. “Alright, I’ve had enough. Finish it.” He said to the Ivy Leaguer from before. “Beat him with the strength of the Lord, and the rage of the Devil.”

“Amen, Father, amen.” The young man smiled the most evil smile Dusk had ever seen on a human being. His manic eyes narrowing in on Dusk. “Say goodnight!”

“Blessed are the peacemakers. For they shall be called the children of God!” Father Moccasin exclaimed, to the vigorous shouts of amen from the crowd.

“Dusk!” Appleseed cried, his hooves digging into the earth as he prepared to lunge himself at the would-be assailant.

A gunshot ripped the still morning air like blast of dynamite. Dusk’s eyes went wide as he was hit in the face with a splatter of red. The fluid, warm and sticky, drenched his lavender coat.The Solaris-awful noise reverberated in his ears and rang out far over the cityscape. The Ivy Leaguer was blown off his feet, and back-first into the ground.

As Dusk gazed upon on his would be assailant, he felt the heat desert him, in its place an icy stillness gripping every inch of his soul. The young man laid there unmoving, his life’s blood began to pool all around, seeping from the wound at an alarming rate. His eyes wide. His breaths quick. His still beating heart now exposed through splintered ribs within the gaping hole in his chest. The blast had ripped him wide open. What was left of his insides spilled to the grass as splintered bone and pieces of both flesh and innards lay scattered all around him.

“Father… Fat…her… help… me.” The Ivy Leaguer choked. Blood drenched his face. The look of pure terror in his eyes. His trembling hand reached out to a clearly shaken Father Moccasin. “I… I… don’t… wanna… die.” Those were his final words.

The putrid metallic taste burned on the tip of Dusk’s tongue. It took every fiber of him not to empty his stomach then and there. The looks on everyone’s faces both human and pony brimmed pure, incomprehensible terror.

“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.”

Dusk turned toward the sound of a voice coming from behind the crowd of ponies.

It was deep and muffled as if he was speaking through a cardboard box. “Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children.”

The ponies turned around. Slowly but surely, they parted, allowing passage to a man in a skull-shaped hockey mask. A thin line of smoke eddied from the muzzle of his sawed off, over/under shotgun as he approached the now terrified group of humans.

“The buck…” Appleseed muttered.

The man was shorter, albeit brawnier than Father Moccasin, but there was something about him that made Dusk tremble. There was an unspeakable evil reflected deep within those deep blue eyes. They bore a twisted hatred so sinister, so pure that it petrified Dusk to the core. Whoever he was, he was no man. He was a monster.

“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.” The masked man twirled the shotgun in his hand, and holstered it to his side. He then revealed a Thompson from within his long, glossy leather coat.

“Oh, God… Oh, God. It’s… it’s him…”

Dusk returned his gaze to Father Moccasin and his chapter, looking as if they had just laid eyes on the Devil himself.

Father Moccasin trembled, teeth clattering. His knees threatened to give way as all traces of courage and faith had long abandoned the seasoned clergy. “God, help us all,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes off the white, ghostly skull painted on man’s black T-shirt.

“And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!”

“It’s the Punisher!” a lady screamed.

“And now you motherfuckers…” The man cocked his gun. “Run.”

Author's Note

Next time on The Renegades…

"I send them to Hell, and I've never slept better."

Episode 5: The Punisher

Trivia

• In Renegadesverse, Dusk Shine is not a R63 of Twilight Sparkle, rather Twilight & Shining's maternal grandfather and Appleseed is Braeburn's paternal grandfather. Caramel Apple is Appleseed's little sister and Braeburn's grandaunt. King Solaris is the current ruler of Equestria, and Celestia & Luna's maternal grandfather.

Credits & Special Thanks

My Editor:
ocalhoun

Writer Notes:
1. Feel free to drop me a PM should you find any mistakes. Thanks!
2. Robert is using the Green Arrow bow from Injustice: Gods Among Us.
3. The bible quote in the end is Ezekiel 25:17, the Pulp Fiction adaptation.