Dead Money

Starnsy and Wobble stepped out of the movie theater with Wobble stretching and groaning. "Gaaah, I have to tell you, I loved the movie but I can't sit in one place like that for that long. I swear, I think my ass was numb for nearly half of the movie."

Starnsy giggled and tossed her soda into a trash can near the door. "Well, I didn't have a problem with it. The movie was awesome." Starnsy and her husband made their way to their car, hopping inside and starting the long drive home. The movie theater was some ways away, so they rarely went. Upon returning home, Starnsy flopped down onto their bed, groaning. "I forgot how comfy this bed was."

Wobble chuckled and rolled his eyes as he undressed, taking off his shirt, illiciting a whistle from Starnsy. "Wooooo~ Take it off, hun!"

Wobble blushed a bit, slipping off his belt and unbuttoning his pants and teasing his wife by not taking them off, much to Starnsy's chagrin. "Awww! You're no fun!" Wobble simply smiled and slowly began to pull his pants lower. A high pitched beeping rang out from Wobble's nightstand, prompting him to quickly rush over and grab the small device within his nightstand.

"Fuck..." Wobble sighed and looked back at his wife. "They're calling me in to help deal with a hostage situation in Manehattan."

Starnsy looked down, her mood instantly deflated as she idly trailed her hand along the bedspread. "It's alright hun, I know it's your job..." She stood up and gave him a hug. "Just be safe, okay?"

Wobble hugged her back tightly. "I promise I will, sweetie. You have my word." He pulled away from her embrace and quickly put on his clothes. Grabbing the keys to his car and kissing her on the cheek as he rushed out the door to the base, where he would don his uniform and be sent out to deal with the situation in Manehattan. Starnsy groaned and flopped onto the bed once more. What was she supposed to do now? A familiar thought passed through her head: She had to make explosives. For the truck job. She stood, putting on some of her workshop clothes and descending the steps into the basement.

She pulled the chain on the lightbulb, illuminating the basement and her workbench. She wiped off the assorted powders of sawdust and other materials from it, giving herself a clean workspace. She cracked her knuckles and set to work creating an explosive. She would need one that stuck to any surface. As she ran the calculations through in her mind, she walked about the small basement workshop, pulling out materials that she would need and setting them on her workbench. When she was finished, her workbench was piled high with things that she either thought she needed, or things that would be useful. One by one she sorted through them, tossing away the materials that would only get in the way. She thought to herself that yes, this was an inefficient way of doing things, but it worked for her so many other times.

Eventually she was left with only the bare essentials that she needed to complete her project, and carefully, methodically, almost like a machine, she began to assemble her new masterpiece. Hours later, she stopped, finally finished with her new device. It was a sticky explosive, meant to explode inwards to breach the doors of the armored truck. "Hopefully..." She thought, "There won't be anypony inside..." She wiped her face and sighed, sitting down on the floor of her workshop with her back against the workbench as she hugged her legs close to her chest. Her thoughts drifted once more to the security guard back at the bank, how he had looked at her as he fell to the ground. His eyes asked only one question: "Why?" She wondered how it was that she could have killed him without a second thought. She thought back to the events of that day, how she calmly strolled up to the entrance and... She had been like a machine. Cold and unfeeling. The security guard? Simply doing his job. What was he to her that day? Just an obstacle in her way. She didn't think of him as another, living being. She thought of him as something to be dealt with. He most likely had a wife... Maybe even children. And she had destroyed that in a matter of seconds, without even batting an eye. She asked herself why. Why was she doing this? To be happy. To make sure her home and her possessions weren't taken from her. She wanted a happy life. Idyllic, like she had always dreamed. So she destroyed somepony else's to do it. She had never wanted to kill anypony, she just needed money. These same thoughts drifted in Starnsy's mind as she sat in her basement workshop, crying into her knees .