The Taste of Victory

It was getting late in the evening, the autumn wind came crawling through the open window of the clubhouse, like a specter on Nighmare Night, chilling us slightly as our winter coats had not fully grown in yet. It was long after the wave of adrenaline from our conquest had ebbed. Now there was only the sound of the wind and the creaking of an old restored tree house, built as sturdy as any one mare could. I could feel the finely hoof sanded planks under my cannons as I sat on my haunches and tried my best to think of some idea worth breaking the terrible, awkward silence for.

But there was another sound that I figured only I could hear. Sweetie's mournful wailings where still fresh in my ears.

I wont lie to you, just so I could build up my self image in your eyes. That is not my style. I prefer to remain in the shadow of a better pony, or a stronger pony at least. One in particular. She protects me and confides in me. She who shares our deepest thoughts and feelings in our solitude. She who my heart beats for alone. She is the pony I love, and yet we must keep our affairs a secret, for our family and society at large may not approve.

But I digress. I am veering off the subject at hoof. My name is Sylvia Catherine Spoon, but you may call me "Silver". I am a filly of age 12 and for the lack of a better word, I am a bully. Now more then ever it seems. Making fun of the blank flanks was fun, but I did not relish the helplessness and despair I heard from our adversaries as we took their last refuge from our torments. I know that feeling. I hate to see ponies cry. Had I my way, I would rather make them smile.

But I would do anything for her.

Diamond Tiara lay back in quiet contemplation, supporting her self on the hoof rest, staring at the ceiling as the lantern's flame danced across the room. She absentmindedly puffed away on her father's pipe, blowing bubbles like she was Sherclop Holmes or something. Babs Seed and myself sat around a small bulls-eye painted on the floor of the clubhouse, directly under a single lantern.

She had revealed to Diamond and myself that the "blank flanks" used this as a thinking spot, to conjure up good ideas. But all I could think about was how supremely bored I was!

I couldn't help but notice how our "fearless leader" was lying in the floor with me, sprawled out on her barrel with her pasterns tucked under her chin, supporting her freckled face. Diamond lorded over us like a Queen in the comfy chair she ordered me to bring from her house, smoking on the pipe that she told me to steal for her.

Her father was going to be pissed, when he went to light up, only to have his flame doused by bubble formula, residue. But that wasn't my problem, for the moment.

Not that I mind how things are playing out. It just confuses me is all. Diamond is far more then merely my best freind. I'd follow her anywhere. To Tartarus and back, if she would but ask me to. Such is my devotion for her. If she only knew how right it felt to be at her hooves like this, would she think me a freak? Would she abandon me?

I close my eyes, grit my teeth and shake my head to dispel my doubts. My small tantrum seems to go unnoticed by my cohorts. I figure it is best that way.

When told we were going to take the CMC club house, I blindly followed behind Diamond Tiara and Bab's Seed as they jockeyed each other silently for leadership of our little gang.

But it is not my willingness to follow that confuses me, it is the role of my mistress in this. Diamond Tiara is a born leader, she takes nothing from nopony, but with Babs Seed, a slightly larger and more imposeing filly, it seems at times that my mistress's authority has been usurped, just as easily as we had taken the club house. Babs Seed had taken command. It was her ideas, and her cunning execution that left me asking "who do I serve?"

I can't say why, but it feels right to follow Diamond Tiara. She has such a commanding presence and hides her insecurities so well, they are mine alone to know.

Alas our victory was short lived and tempered by our adversaries decision to cry and run away. We had expected a fight. We wanted one. Or so my two patrons did. Still I was as excited as they were and waited at the ready to defend against some water balloon attack, some elaborate and ultimately doomed assault, or at the very least they could try throwing some apples at us. Luna knows there are plenty of felled apples out here, that would make quite a mess and leave quite a stink on our coats.

We waited for hours but no sign of our enemies. We were even prepared with a full story that we were just playing, should Applejack or Big Mac be informed of the pint sized invaders encamped in their orchard. But alas it seems Babs threat made an impression, as no grownup was brought to try and roust us out of their tree.

We had brought nothing to do. I had my pearls and glasses and DT had her crown. We had nothing to amuse ourselves with, and found nothing of interest in the clubhouse, not even a seat or stool. Apparently Applebloom, Scootalloo and Sweetie Belle, didn't spend much time at their headquarters, before running out to get all sorts of trouble in the pursuit of their marks.

Had we driven them to this insanity, or were they always nuts?

I finally give up on thinking of something to do, deciding my respected colleagues had done the same. There just was nothing TO do and it was getting dark.

I busied my mind, admiring the craftsmareship of the clubhouse it self. Babs said her cousin rebuilt it herself and redesigned the drawbridge style ramp that was currently raised, should our adversaries return and lay siege to reclaim their keep. She kept rolling her eyes and saying how Applebloom had bragged on and on, but all I could think of was "she has a right to brag." something that went unsaid, lest I anger my new patron as well as my mistress.

"If AB built this place, I am surprised she has no cutie mark in carpentry and engineering." the thought crosses my mind and yet again I hold my tongue. Again I become bored as the light outside fades, leaving only what is illuminated by the single lamp to scrutinize. I had already gone over every plank and bolt in an attempt to asses any possible weaknesses of our new fortress, and could find none.

We may have not taken the "high road" but we had certainly taken the high ground. Scoots would have to learn quite rapidly how to fly if they were to ever hope to get the drop on us, now.

Rather then whine and upset my friends deep contemplation, I chose instead to reflect on the events that led me here, basking in our victory and wallowing in self doubt and most of all, boredom!

It had been such a marvelous week. Though I secretly felt bad for the Cutie Mark Crusaders, I couldn't help but marvel at the cunning and ruthlessness of Babs Seed as she implemented terror tactics that Diamond could only dream of!

A sequence of events in rapid succession, all leading up to our current state of victory over our self imposed enemies.

It was the coolest thing I had ever done, and by far the cruelest. We had evolved beyond lobbing half hearted, ill contrived insults at our adversaries. Instead of merely watching and waiting for the CMC to do something stupid we could laugh at, which was an almost certainty if one had the patience, we had taken that final step toward being villains in our own right. Taking initiative, taking the fight to them. And we had expected more resistance.

Ever since being publicly disgraced and demoted as editor and chief of the Foal Free Press, Diamond Tiara has taken a personal vendetta against the CMC and I find myself either unwilling or unable to stop her. Her cruelty is as beautiful to me as her kindness.

I had applauded Granny Smith's presentation. I knew it might anger Diamond, but the mare deserved my applause and my respect. I was as shocked as everypony else when Diamond jumped to her hooves and insulted Applebloom's grandmother in full view of the entire class. After the "Gabby Gums" scandal came to light, I thought she knew when to cut her losses and admit defeat.

Obviously I was mistaken, like so many times in my life.

Much to my surprise, Diamond didn't seem at all opposed to relinquishing control, to follow Babs's lead. I did what I did best and tagged along, offering the same support to our new leader as I would my precious Diamond.

That was until only a few hours ago. My allegiance was tested and the lines between who is the head of our group blurred even more.