Chapters Part II: Through Fire and Ice
Part II: Through Fire and Ice
Chapter I:
The Train
I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t hear anything. My body was numb, so I felt nothing. White set against a backdrop of black was all that filled my eyes. My ears were filled with the howling of the wind. The freeze of the air itself assaulted me from everywhere, I had to rely on pressures to know if I was still walking on the track or wandered aimlessly in the snow. I couldn’t feel the track beneath me, I could barely feel the snow. I felt as if I could drop down any second from exhaustion and freeze. I was finding it hard to move further.
Then I saw a glow. A very faint glow. At first, I thought it was heaven opening its doors to me, welcoming me into it’s warm abode, to take me from this cold-black nightmare, take me back to my family. But what have I done to deserve that reward? I wasn’t sure. But as I drew closer, and failed to feel any warmth from anything, I realized this wasn’t heaven in front of me at all. It was the train. As I got closer, more lights, and even the sounds of shouting. The train had stopped on the tracks, the fierce snow had stopped it. I found myself drawing up alongside it, the gun-metal gray engine covered in ice. The steam stack rose away into the darkness.
“What do ya’ mean there ain’t a single pegasi on the bloody train?” The voice was gruff, old, and lost in the wind. “We need this weather cleared up! How has it not cleared up already? Where’s the pegasi above the clouds? This storm ain’t natural!” I tried to follow the voice, but it was too difficult to follow with the blasting noise from the wind. “Fine! We can reverse! We can try to back up out of the storm, but lets do it quickly!” I continued stumbling down the side of the train. Ahead was another glow, this one coming not from directly in front of me, but off to the side. It had to be a door.
I heard the train whistle blow somewhere in the wind. I pushed harder through the snow, which was deep here due to the snow drifts created by the wind blowing snow against the side of the train. The whistle blew again, and I thought I heard the chug of the pistons start up. The door was getting closer, I was almost there. The light drew nearer, and nearer until--I made it. I fumbled for the first step, and soon got half of my body up onto it. The train started to move, slowly heading in a reverse direction, but I managed to drag my limp body up and into the car. I was retrieved almost instantly.
“Holy hay man!” “Geez look at that guy, frozen!” “Hey, where’d he come from? Are you a passenger mister? I don’t remember collecting a ticket from you.” “About time this train got moving again!”
Voices bombarded me from all sides, clogging my frozen over mind with noise. I tried to stand, but my body was far too numb to do anything but thaw out on the floor of the train.
“My Celestia, he’s an icicle. Let’s warm him up somewhere.”
I felt a pressure under my armpits, and felt myself being dragged across the floor of the train. I couldn’t feel anything except the pressure.
“Hey guys, guys, put him down. We’ll take him. He’s with us.”
“You mean like that dog and his friends who didn’t have tickets either?”
“Yah, just a little late.”
“Do you have a ticket for him too?”
“Yah I got one . Here it is.”
I had my eyes frozen shut, I couldn’t see a thing. The dragging returned, and found it getting warmer. Heat was returning to my body. I was thawing out. I was going to survive, I made it to the train alive. Eventually I found the strength to open my eyes. I wasn’t clear yet though for Manehattan. The thugs, gang bangers, they found me. They were taking me to another car in the train. We moved from car to car, I didn’t resist. Finally, we stopped in a car that was populated by several of the coat and badge wearing thugs. I didn’t recognize any of them.
“Man, I thought Dirt said he had everyone else from the station. Get lost in the snow?” I found myself able to stand now, I was getting back to a normal state. I looked in the direction of the speaker and found a light gray Earth colt looking back at me. He wasn’t doing anything threatening at all, and no one else I noticed was making a move either.
The disguise , I thought, I’m still wearing it, and it’s working! They thought I was one of theirs, just left behind in the storm. “Yah, yah,” I stumbled back, “Just got caught in the storm. It’s cold out there.”
“Yah tell me about it. The pegasi I heard can’t do anything about it. They don’t know how to stop it, it’s gone out of control!” He started guiding me to the back of the car where there were some empty seats. “The worst snowfall we’ve had in years, and it’s freezing, especially thanks to that wind.” I looked out the windows on one side of the train, but couldn’t see anything but wisps of white and pitch black darkness. “Here, take this eat,” he said, motioning towards an empty seat three from the back of the car. I took it, and he moved on to the seat behind me.
The other occupants of the car were mostly unicorns, a few earths, and the griffin from the train station. He was polishing his gun with a small towel. I gulped air and turned towards the window. I was sure he had never seen me. I didn’t know of anyone who might of got back here and saw me at the station, except for that dog. The diamond dog saw me. He saw me smash my hooves into his face and send him sprawling. He wasn’t on this car. Outside the window gave way to darkness and the ever lasting wisps of snow. The sounds I heard were the sounds of numerous voices on the train, and the chugging of the train moving in reverse.
Turning back to the gray colt I asked, “What was the weather like in Manehattan?” He looked up from something and looked out the window, and then back at me.
“It was fine ... Remember?” I had forgotten I was one of them now. I had come from Manehattan with them.
“Oh right, I forgot.” It was a poor excuse, but he took it anyways with a shrug.
“Let's hope it’s still like that. Hopefully we can beat the storm. It’s headed towards Manehattan, but maybe we can out ride it, even in reverse.” I nodded in agreement and turned back towards the window. The train picked up speed, and as the hours passed I could see the storm fading outside. The snow became far and in between. We were beating the storm. Outside the window the edges of the city could be seen. The city glowed in the blackness of this night. It wasn’t long before the Manehattan train station came into view.
The station laid on the edge of the city. It looked like the Ponyville station, except bigger, and a flat gray color like the many other buildings in Manehattan. The train slid next to the bare boarding platform and then came to a screeching halt. The train jerked to a stop, and the gray colt nudged my shoulder for me to get up.
“C’mon, let’s unload everything now. I don’t remember you being around when we first put it on, but hey, you can help us take it off now,” he said. “Sucks we weren't able to get it to Ponyville.” He headed down the aisle to the car behind us, the last passenger car on the train. I stood in the walkway, not sure what to do. For sure that dog was back there, and he had described a few of my features to those others at the platform.
“Hey, get moving!” I received a brutally hard shove behind that sent my flying forward into the gray colt. He spun at me with an intense speed and looked about to holler when he looked up behind me and stopped short of yelling, at me me anyways.
“Geez Hawkins! Take it easy!” He helped me up and gave whoever Hawkins was a hard stare. “Why don’t you just wait for him to move.”
“Please , patience? Shut up Gray Rock.” The voice sounded slightly familiar. I decided to steal a glance back, and then wished I hadn’t. The griffin from the station, the one with the gun. He glared back at me saying, “What are you looking at you yellow-mule?”
“N-nothing,” I stammered. “Just, uh, a little gentler maybe next time?” He didn’t seem to recognize me. Maybe I wasn’t the image he had in mind. The dog told him about a yellow stallion that subdued him and killed two unicorns. The griffin, I suspected, was expecting a pony with a bit more muscle tone than what I had.
“Whatever, just get moving okay?” I nodded quickly and pushed forward. I didn’t want too, but my mind wasn’t thinking of any excuses to get me out of this situation. What if the dog hadn’t unboarded yet? He wasn’t in this car, and he couldn’t of been in any of the others I was dragged through since he would’ve surely seen me and stopped me then and there. He had to be in the last car, and if he was still in there, and if he saw me, all hell would break loose inside this train. The crowd behind me was pushing me forward into the colt and towards the door.
“Geez, everyone calm down, we’re getting out!” the colt shouted. He was getting annoyed fast, and looked like he was about to lose it. The car door swung open and a blast of cold air came bursting in through the netting that connected the cars together.
“Grah! It’s freaking freezing out there!” the griffin, Hawkins, shouted in distress.
“No , really?” The colt moved forward and pushed the door to the other car open. “Man, I wish the space between these cars was bigger, we could just hop off instead of having to move through another car to get out of this thing.” I silently agreed with him. He stepped through the gap and was in the other car. From here it looked liked it was mostly empty, most of the occupants had gotten off already. I tried to get a look around before stepping through, but Hawkins pushed me through into the next car.
“Move it earthy!” I found myself on the floor of the next car and tiredly got up. I was feeling exhaustion setting in from this long night. Slowly I moved down the aisle, the gray colt I saw had moved ahead and was already getting off. I was a few seats from the door when someone shoved me into the left row of seats.
“Hey look where you going pony!” a voice growled. I looked up and froze. It was the dog. His gray fur covered face was matted around the nose with dried blood, and one of his eyes was swollen. A look of angry recognition swept over his face. “You! You are the one! The one who broke my nose and wrecked my eye!” We were attracting stares.
“Whoah now, Dirt, this is the guy who got you? This skinny wimp?” The griffin jumped onto the right row of seats, standing on the back cushions. He had his gun drawn, and I found myself looking down the barrel. I found myself turned around and slowly retreating to the door.
“Stop or he’ll shoot!” Dirt commanded and threatened at the same time. “Heck, I’ll shoot too!” He drew a gun from the brown vest he was wearing.
“Why does he have to stop? Either way we’re gonna blow holes through him.” The griffin clicked the hammer back. Dirt did too. “Freaking manure eater is gonna get it. Hey, I know, let’s shoot his legs and let him suffer a bit.” The dog created a sound that I think could only be described as some sort of horrifying chuckle.
“Yes yes! I like that idea very much!” He outright laughed then and pulled the hammer back on his gun. I hadn’t stopped moving back this entire time, and was very close to the door.
“Then let’s break his legs, and skin off his cutie mark.” The griffin and the dog laughed together in a manic fashion. I noticed others looking on from behind them, most of them with their eyes on me. A few unicorns had guns hovering above their heads.
“Yes yes! I’ll get the knife! Hahaha!” They laughed again, a few of the other behind them chuckling along. I stopped moving back when my head was even with the exit of the door. The platform was clean right outside of it. The two were cackling in a demonic laughter, and the ones behind them were busy enjoying the ruckus themselves. I took this as a chance to escape.
I leaped out of the door, hearing gunshots behind me followed by angry shouting. I landed cleanly and sprinted down the platform, whizzing by surprised and angry faces. I heard guns go off everywhere along with the shouts and screams of other terrified passengers and bystanders. I jumped off the end of platform, diving into the snow. I got back to my feet in an instant and was again galloping along the side of the Manehattan train station. Eventually I found the street and made it out onto the the cold deserted streets. I was tired, and found it hard to keep control of my labored breathing. But it seemed I had escaped the thugs. I wasn’t very far from the station though when I was stopped by a dark gray stallion in a tophat and a monocle on one eye. I recognized him from cross-city newspapers and news reports.
“Hello, Mr. Carrot Cake, yes? My colleagues call me Caesar. I am the governor of Manehattan, and I ask you come with me, and quickly before those thugs find us.” I found that I was unable to deny his request. We walked through the streets until we came up to a small cafe. He ushered me in and we found a table in the back.
“Mr-Mr-I mean, Governor! You know me? W-What can I do for you, sir?” The governor of this city had called me out, I wasn’t sure what to say or do. It hasn’t been the first time I’ve met anyone of importance, Cup and I once hosted a banquet for Princess Celestia at our home! But this stallion seeked me out personally, or at least that’s what it looked like.
“I’ve been meaning to contact you for some time, as I know of a recently developed plan to remove you from our world. I meant to meet you personally at your home town’s station, but something came up and I wasn’t able to make it. I’m quite relieved I found you here.” A waiter came and asked for drink orders. I wasn’t thirsty; Caesar ordered tea. “We don’t have much time now. I have something to attend to, and I would like you to see me at my manor in half an hour, if you can survive for that long.”
“Survive?” These thugs were after me, I had killed some of them, but that was it. I didn’t know what Caesar was telling me, but it looked like things were bigger than I thought. The waiter brought him his tea.
“Can you make it in half an hour?” He sipped his tea quietly, his eyes on me the whole time. I thought about it, making a decision, and then nodded my head. “Good. I think you may need directions to my manor.” He told me where to go and I nodded again. “Hope I see you there. I wish I could explain everything now, but I don’t have the time.” He finished his tea, stood from his chair and nodded in my direction, and he left the cafe. I sat there for a little longer, feeling confused. He knew something, something big. Something about me.
I shakily left the cafe, troubled now, unsure what to do. He wanted me to stay alive, he believed I could be killed in the next half hour. I stood there in the cold, facing the wind. Caesar was right. Death could arrive in the next half hour.
Chapter II:
Cold Revelations
The late night streets of Manehattan were dark, deserted, and cold. The lamps flickered, now using back up electric lights that replaced the fireflies as they froze in their sleep. The wind was picking up, and the storm was on its way. Already there were light flakes drifting from the sky and being blown around in the wind, ducking and diving underneath and above each other. The jacket I was wearing was doing little to protect me, and the icy fingers of the wind pierced through my fur. I noticed a little while ago the badge I was wearing, the symbol of those thugs, had fallen off at some point.
When I left the cafe earlier I had seen Caesar’s carriage roll down the street and take a left, going in the opposite direction of his manor. It wasn’t far away, but I didn’t feel like going to wait by the door or gate for him to come back. Half an hour wasn’t a long time, but I didn’t know what to do in it. I thought that I might as well wait, having nothing better to do. I again considered just going to his manor at this moment when I heard the rolling wheels of an approaching carriage. I wondered if they would be willing to offer a lift.
I thought better of it when I saw the driver, the dog named Dirt, sitting atop the carriage with reins in hand, guiding two muscular unicorns. The carriage was a simple wooden carriage, a bit longer though then some others I’ve seen, probably to accommodate more passengers. The carriage though was pulling behind it several gray metal trailers. The caravan was coming up quickly, and doing my best to not be seen I jumped into the nearest alleyway.
The procession moved past without noticing me, and two more carriages followed the first, both of them also leading away several gray trailers. A few unicorns walked alongside serving as an escort. I imagined they were armed.
“Geez, it’s getting cold!” one of them said with a shiver.
“That storm is blowing in fast. Lets hurry up now!” They continued moving on through the cold. I cautiously left the alleyway and watched the procession go, wondering what was in those trailers. They didn’t have windows, so I wasn’t sure if they were passenger cars or not. Maybe that was their supply, the sugar-drug. I failed to intercept it at Ponyville, but maybe I could get a fix on where it was kept here, then go back to Ponyville, and tell Keylocker. Of course being that the drug wouldn’t be in Ponyville anymore, he’d probably contact Manehattan authorities. I figured I’d be better off contacting them too.
I watched the caravan move further down the road, and slowly I emerged further from the alleyway, planning to trail them from behind. Of course, how often do things go perfectly as planned? I should’ve looked both ways, but not doing so caused me to collide with a passing unicorn stallion in a white shirt and apron with a white paper hat on top of his golden brown hair. We fell on top of each other, and when I scuttled back to my feet I saw the caravan was out of sight, having melted away into the darkness of the street further down, and odds are they probably turned somewhere up ahead too. I turned towards the pony I had collided into and found myself surprised by the identity.
“Oh my god, Pony Joe?” He was still on the ground, looking a bit dazed. I helped him get back to his feet and stand right. He swayed for a bit before steadying himself. He looked at me and smiled with a sense of recognition.
“Carrot Cake? Is that you?” He laughed and threw a hoof around my neck to draw me in for a hug. “Carrot, dearest of all my friends!” I returned the hug, feeling a little uneasy. So he was here in Manehattan after all. “What are you doing here?”
“I got your letter,” I said. He brushed himself off and adjusted his paper hat. “You weren’t at the train station, and well, lets say I ran into some complications. I got a ride onto a train before it came back here due to the weather.” He looked off in thought for a moment, then returned his gaze to me.
“Um, yes, yes. The weather I heard is very bad, and headed this way. The pegasi have lost control of it unfortunately. It’s bringing in a freeze too I’m afraid.” He shivered slightly and tugged the white apron on him tighter.
“You’re not wearing much for the cold.” He shrugged.
“I don’t mind it too much, Carrot. I’m well built. You not as much. Is that coat all you have?” He tugged at the corner of my coat and inspected it briefly.
“I’m afraid so. I wish I had something warmer.” I shivered in the cold.
“Well Carrot, since you got my, uh, letter; Firstly, my sincerest apologies for not being able to make it there myself - Secondly, take an airship with me now back to Canterlot, so we can talk about what I wanted to see you about. I don’t have much time to talk here.”
“Airships are getting through the weather?”
“Not through my friend,” he laughed, “but above the weather! They are breaking above the clouds, flying above the storm. But they can only take off for so long. In an hour or so, the airships that don’t take off will be grounded I’m afraid. Come lets go now, not many are left that are going to Canterlot.” He wanted to go now , but Caesar had asked me for an audience at his manor. I didn’t want to abandon that.
“Joe I’d love too, but either tell the airship to wait or I’ll try to get another one. I have to do something first.”
“Carrot, the ships will only wait for so long.” He directed a frown at me and said, “Please, come with me now Carrot, there isn’t a lot of time.” I shrugged apologetically. I didn’t want to miss what Caesar wanted to say. He was the governor for Celestia’s sake, and he wanted to take something up with me!
“Look, I think I’m a little late already. I don’t want to keep him waiting.” He seemed to be getting agitated now. Was this really that important?
“Keep who waiting Carrot? What do you need to do so badly?” He just about shouted that.
“Alright fine! The governor. Caesar of Manehattan, he wants to see me at his manor.” His demeanor changed instantly.
“Well Carrot! Why didn’t you say so my friend?” His horn started to glow and a bag he had dropped lifted into the air. “I’m sorry if I lost my temper, Carrot. Are you walking there? It’s not far, but it’s very cold out.”
“I’m walking.”
“Well I see what I can do with the airship.” He waved and smiled before walking down the street and disappearing into the dark. I decided it was time to go to Caesar’s.
Through the night I trekked down the streets, cold and alone. The night was becoming late, I suspected it was around midnight now. Over the course of the last few hours, I’ve seen one too many familiar faces, watched one of them die in front of me, and I almost froze in a snowstorm. I’ve been shot at, and I’ve fought back, and killed. I met an old friend on the streets of a giant gray city right after meeting the governor of the city and being invited to his home, and every arrow pointed at me being involved somehow. And with all of this, I knew this night was far from over.
It wasn’t too long before I found the manor. Unlike the majority of buildings in Manehattan, which were mostly all tightly packed one right next to other with a skinny alley every few building blocks, the manor was set back from the walls of concretes on either side of it, and wasn’t attached to any other buildings. It gave way to a giant front lawn that was guarded by a great iron bar gate which stood wide open, accepting guests. A thin layer of snow sat on top of the walls that the gate stood in, and that’s when I noticed the snow falling before my eyes. It was very light, very sparse. It was on and off since I got here. But these flakes were noticeably larger. The storm was getting closer. I needed to be quick here, and then get to an airship.
I walked up the long driveway up the marble white stairs that lead to a great mahogany door surrounded by the white marble body of the house which was larger, much larger, than the other buildings on the street. I rapped my hoof upon the wood door and waited. I shivered again as I heard noise on the other side of the door, the sounds of opening locks.
“Yes? Who’s there?” came a voice as the door opened. I pressed a hoof on the door to open it just slightly more.
“I-it’s me, Mr. Carrot Cake. Governor Caesar?” The door opened abruptly and I felt an arm around my neck pull me in. The door shut quickly behind me and a gust of cold air pushed in by the door blew on my back that tore through my fur and prickled my skin.
“Finally, and it’s about time, sir.” My eyes adjusted to the lights of the room, and soon I recognized Caesar standing next to me. “Goodness, what took you so long?”
“An old friend after you left. Sorry. Also, a little trouble finding the place.” I shrugged.
“Well, you’re here now anyways. Please, follow me to my den. This very much concerns you, and your wife.” I stopped where I was. My wife? What did he know about that? “Are you coming?” he called. I walked quickly to catch up with him.
“What-What do you know about my wife?” He continued walking without saying anything. We arrived at his den shortly, and he gestured me into the room first.
“Please, take a seat if you wish. Or better yet, stay standing. You’ll probably need too.” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“Please, what about my wife? What do you want?” The den had a soft red carpet and red wallpapered walls. A statue of a toucan stood in the corner, perched on a marble tree branch with no leaves. He took a seat in a plush red armchair sitting in front of a bright orange fire. Above the mantle hung the framed painting of a full hydra, raising from an ocean deep. The fire flickered shadows everywhere. One wall had a giant window, plane and simple, flat on the bottom, round on top. It was clean and very bare. It looked out at an alley that ran between the rows of buildings. The back of the buildings were bare and stained with age and grime. It was a terrible view.
“Mr. Cake, first, my dearest and most utterly sincerest apologies. I know these are very late, but older circumstances wouldn’t have let me admit them. You’re wife was a fascinating mind in the business we had those several years ago. I’m sure you would’ve been a great member of our team too if you’re health didn’t suffer at the last minute. What I did, to her, and any others, the test subjects we used... I’m deeply sorry.” He removed his top hat and set on a coffee table next to him. He looked tired and exhausted, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was talking about the convention, the research convention for baking, so long ago. I wanted to say something, but I thought it’d be best if I let him finish. “It was one mistake of many I’ve made. We should’ve stopped when we could’ve, thrown the messed up hell-powder into the flames of the ovens. But no, we kept it. We tried to profit off of it. Your wife was avidly against it, and she threatened to expose us. I didn’t want too, but the power and money, the one who found himself with the reigns to everything, forced me too. I sent them in a crate, and his loyal money hungry contact in Ponyville complied. He released the monsters into your home, had them armed, drugged, all of that. He left them to rampage, confident he wouldn’t need to look back. He thought you would’ve been there too, though you may of known of this. By some sort of luck you weren’t there, and that’s how you lived.
“I was responsible for this. Your tragedy was my wrong doing. I murdered your family. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I know you’ll help me, because you’ll want to help me, or else you’ll be finished.” I stared at him blankly, trying to take it all in. “You must help me, because helping me will be helping yourself.” His words caught up to me, and fear and anger welled up inside me, and I saw the world tint red. “Please, Mr. Cake, you must--” I cut him off there.
“NO! Why should I help you?! You killed them? YOU DID THAT?” The scream filled the room. The suddenness of it had scared Caesar into falling out of his chair.
“Please understand me! I’m your only chance at redemption!”
“Redemption? What redemption?! You should be begging me not to kill you right now!”
“Please, I know, I know! I want redemption too! Don’t think you have nothing to redeem yourself for! You were no doubt blaming yourself for everything! You blame yourself for not being there, for arriving too late before you could do anything! There is a bigger force at work that must be stopped! Extract your revenge on the true mastermind!”
“Yah? And just who the hell is that?”
“Donut Joe.” The answer was a sudden hit home.
“Wait, what?” This revelation was something I was unprepared for. Donut ‘Pony’ Joe? And too think I had just talked to him only a short time before. Caesar got to his feet and brushed himself off with a hoof.
“I realize, you and he were friends, up until the convention and your wife’s murder, long time friends. I... He... He has, for the longest time, been running a very small time crime syndicate out of Canterlot. He was a baker first though, but a criminal second. He saw something in this project, something he could use. He thought that he could bring in a fortune with this, this drug... And he did, through the underground market. Mr. Cake, if you let me, I’ll explain everything you’ve been through this night.” He got back up in his chair and sat back, looking at the floor all the while. “You received a letter earlier today, yes?”
“Yes. It said it was from Po--”
“Joe, yes I know,” he cut me off. “I wrote it. I meant to arrive on that train, but something came up and I wasn’t able to make it. Somehow you found your way here anyways.”
“I was being chased, they were trying to kill me, Lucky, and some others...”
“Lucky? That must be Joe’s Ponyville contact. You know him?”
“He’s on our force.”
“Ah yes, your ramshackle police force. I figured he would’ve had a contact in something like that. Did it look like a setup? I knew it was going to happen.” He turned towards the flickering fire with a blank stare. “I thought I could’ve stopped it. They killed an officer then, and you’re to blame, and everyone wants you now.”
“You knew about this all? And who’s out to get me?”
“All of Equestria. You don’t listen to the radio much I see. As far they are concerned, you killed an officer of the law. Maybe he wasn’t a trained officer like the Royal Guards, but it’s still something.” He turned back to face me, and his eyes were hollow black pits. This was eating him away. He stepped down from his chair and walked to one end of the room where a small wooden dresser sat with a radio on top of it. Caesar twisted the dials around, and the radio began emitting a high pitched wailing squeal. The sound was obnoxiously loud, and I flattened my ears to my head to try and lock it out. He kept twisting until he found the station he was looking for, and as soon as he found it the squeal immediately stopped and a new voice filled the room. I recognized it instantly.
“Remember this is for everyone to be on high alert. We have a rogue cop, I repeat a rogue cop. I don’t know if he’s armed, but if he was responsible for the carnage we found at the train station, then he’s one dangerous pile of manure.” Keylocker’s voice trembled through the room. He sounded drunk and tired, and terribly disgruntled. “He’s a cop killer, and I ask for assistance from all guard services everywhere who is listening in to take this killer alive.” There was a pause, some muffled sounds emitting from the radio.
“Did I lose the signal?” Caesar was about to adjust the dial again when the voice boomed back on.
“We can’t tell from the storm, but he may of headed to Manehattan or Canterlot, following the railroad either direction. Unless he got on a train or sprouted wings, he’s gotta be on the tracks. Dead or alive it doesn't matter. A 10,000 bit reward. I’ll repeat the name and description. Name Cake, Carrot. Carrot Cake, yellow stallion with orange mane and tail, last seen wearing a dark brown and stained trench-coat. He--” Caesar turned the radio off and turned back towards me.
“You’re wanted by everyone. You have nowhere to run.” He strode over to his fireplace, placing himself in the orange glow, appearing to me now as a silhouette against the flames. “This drug case, Joe, all of it. As of now, you’re the only one I can ask to end it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“Go to Canterlot, and end Joe’s project .” He pronounced the word carefully and slowly, letting it sink in. He wanted me to take on Joe. Was he crazy? I hated Caesar for his involvement, but I hated Joe now too, and this whole drug case. But what could I do? I wasn’t fit, wasn’t that strong. He wanted me to fight a legion of demons by myself, take on the Devil and his armies, all in pursuit of bringing back a false sense of heaven and peace on this world.
This world is filled with enemies, but right now I felt, regrettably perhaps, one enemy of mine would have to be a friend for now, Caesar. Friends help you live.
“I realize it will be a, ah, difficult job, but Mr. Cake, you must do it. You’re a baker at heart, not a fighter, but you must try. If you succeed I can’t see to it that you aren’t arrested, but I can guide you through the legal system and bring you out clean and free. It’s the best deal I can offer. You’ve survived this long, don’t think this is as far as you can go.” I thought it out a little longer. I still thought about life after death. Would I see them again? Wife, children, would I ever see them again? Is there a heaven? A Hell? And too which place would I go?
“Alright,” I muttered. It was quiet, and I didn’t think he had heard me. I strode over to the window overlooking the alley that ran behind the buildings, moving past their ugly back sides.
I was about to repeat myself when he he said just above a whisper, “Good luck then. I look forward to the outcome.”
Right then it was like the cue for the killer thugs to arrive, busting down the door, firing off revolvers with their unicorn magic. I didn’t get much of a look but I found myself smashing through the window pane and picking myself up in the alleyway. Gunshots rang out from behind me as I sprinted down the alley, galloping faster than I ever remembered doing. I slid on some ice covered by snow, and turned between a gap between two buildings, finding myself back on the streets. I stopped, stood there breathing heavily, nearly exhausted. I wanted to pass out, but the cold prevented me from doing so.
The guns, the assailants, the promises Caesar could no longer act upon with his death now in the history books of Manehattan. Still, I knew my enemy, and the Devil remained in my sights. Whether it meant prison or not, I was going to finish this anyways.
Chapter III:
Flying to Hell
Snow was becoming thick, falling with more force, with more impact. Every extra flake that fell on my back was another weight to be carried, to be heaved around. The cold was biting at me again, more teeth this time, gnawing through my fur and into my flesh. The streets were bare and deserted. It was past midnight. No one was up. I was alone in this city. Those who walked it with me hunted me.
Joe told me there were airships making their last flights to Canterlot and elsewhere before the brute of the storm passed through. I don’t know how long I was at Caesar’s, and I didn’t know how long until the last flight took place, or if took place already. I didn’t even know where the airfield was. There was no one to ask either. Doors were locked, lights doused, the streets still barren and covered in an undisturbed layer of snow. I was alone with no idea on where to go. There was nothing to do but wander the streets, and simply hope I would come across something that could help. I looked up in the falling snow and stood there for a moment, feeling the icy cold of each flake settle upon me. I took a breath and stood for a bit longer. The clouds above were black, the tall buildings on either side of the street disappearing into the night. Up in the air there was a single gray cloud, a light blot against the black sky. It moved slowly against the backdrop of the black clouds, and as I concentrated on the shape, staring straight through the snow, it took on shape, an oval almost. Then suddenly it came to me. It wasn’t a cloud at all. It couldn’t have been. As the picture in my eyes resolved itself, the shape became more defined, details stuck out.
It was an airship. I tried to pinpoint the direction it was going, I wasn’t sure. Eventually I was able to make it out. But was it arriving or departing? It wasn’t clear, but what I had heard the airships were trying to make their last breaks for other cities. It must’ve been departing. I checked the direction it was coming from, and I turned and sprinted down that direction.
The run there is a blur to me now, but I found the airfield eventually. They were closing off the gates when I arrived. I saw one airship left, a loading ramp leading to its passenger hold. I slipped past the pony dragging the gate. He didn’t notice me. Probably tired or exhausted, maybe too frozen in his work and body to notice or care. From the gate I could see the inflated balloon clearly, a majestic purple color in the shape of a whale, and on it the regal symbol of Princess Celestia, an orange sun emblazoned near the rear of the balloon, bearing resemblance to the position of a cutie mark. It was a Canterlot ship. I heard various shouts coming from the airship’s groundcrew. They were preparing to take off. I was almost to the ramp when an orange pegasus stopped me.
“Where the heck do you think you’re going?” he growled.
I Looked at him and a shot a worried glance at the ship and said, “Just trying to make the last flight to Canterlot.”
“No free rides! Fare is twelve bits.” I had some money, I knew that, but I didn’t know where I would go to buy tickets. A high wind blew in, and the working crews became more frantic in their work.
“We gotta get off the ground!” one of them shouted. I turned towards the pegasus.
“Where do I go to pay?” I shouted over the roar of the wind. He eyed me and glanced at the airship.
“Alright fine, give me six bits and get on quick. The doorcolt is too old and too busy to notice a new passenger.” I gave him the six bits and he grinned at me before pushing me up the ramp. I got into the passenger carriage and found a window seat. I watched as the ground crews struggled in the wind and snow to get this last ship up in the air. The cabin was moderately warm, and only a few of the seats held occupants, most of them wrapped up in soft blankets to stay warm. They looked like they were in peace, despite the thunderous chaos outside. They were sleeping through the storm, waiting it out until tomorrow, waiting until it finally passed allowing them to poke their heads up and enjoy the next hazard free day. I wish I could join them in the same way I used to be with them. Not tonight, perhaps not again ever. I was going into the storm, going through it, into the Hell it was. There was no letting it pass through.
The ship cabin suddenly lurched forward and the cabin door slammed shut. Slowly then, the cabin began to rock side to side, left to right, very slow, very calm. We were airborne, and heading to Canterlot.
“You know,” a voice said from behind. I turned my head to see an old gray colt in the seat behind me wearing some sort of uniform. I guessed he was the doorcolt. “I heard that, that this here storm, is next spreading to Canterlot! It’s breaking into pieces and sending them off to anywhere and everywhere in Equestria!” It sounded like Equestria was freezing over. I looked back at the colt, but saw he had drifted off to sleep.
The cabin hung from ropes that hugged it close to the balloon. It rocked softly, despite the increasing wind-speed outside. The cabin was tight enough to withstand hard turbulence. The light swaying there was though I found was calming, relaxing. I felt tired, exhausted... It was still at least two hours before we would reach Canterlot. I couldn’t help it. The tug of sleep, the blanket of darkness, it all came to me at once.
Some when they sleep, they can go straight through, no problems, no bumps in the road. No turbulence for this ride. Peaceful sleep until destination achieved. I wasn’t on that ship. In the darkness I saw a light, a single far away light. The cabin rocked gently. I slept without making sounds. The light grew bigger, and it gave way to a hallway with blue wallpaper, wood floor and ceiling. There was no source though to the light, no lamp, no fire. The swaying of the cabin kept the sleeping asleep. A tarp thrown over all of us in here, stakes driven into the ground at its corners, disabling our ability to wake. The tarp was tight, it couldn’t be loosened from the ground. I was in the hallway. It was a long stretch, darkness at the end. I took several steps, and the darkness retreated slightly. Darkness had to be faced, it couldn’t be left alone. I ran after it, and it ran away from me. The tarp held tight movements in sleep. Body stiff, breath slow and deep, mind pulsing. The darkness raced away from me, but it played fair. I stopped to breath, wondering why I would need to do such in what could only be a dream. Perhaps the need to breath calculated this into a nightmare. Regardless, the darkness waited for me.
Whispers. The tarp tightened. Pinned to the ground, unable to move. Galloping whooves, increasing in sound and pitch. A figure retreating into the darkness. Distinct shape I only knew all too well. I sprinted to catch up with it, running fast, galloping hard, a speeding train. Darkness only stayed at the distance it’s been at this entire time. It had to tire eventually, didn’t it? I gave chase again, and down the hallway we went, endlessly chasing. One of the spikes gave way and popped from the ground. The tarp loosened. The cabin swayed, ever so gently. The darkness stopped, and I kept running. I had it, almost. It wasn’t far now. The darkness, I was upon it. The hallway ended. A chasm was the end, a giant pit at the end of the hall. Another spike popped from the ground. The tarp was loosening further. A voice from behind me. I had nothing but a glimpse of her eyes when I received a shove from behind, throwing me into the abyss. I fell without noise. I lost my jacket. The ground, I couldn’t see it. Speed increase. I felt the fur and skin tearing from my body. The cabin rocked a little more, less gentle. High winds kicked up. Sudden turbulence. No landing. I was on my feet, surrounded by darkness.
There was another light up ahead. A low glow. There was a slight pressure on my head, and something was wrapped around me neck. I couldn’t see what. I used a hoof to pry, found my hat on my head, my striped tie around my next, knotted together as a bow. I was wearing my work apron. The cabin lurched to the side. The tarp stayed where it was, those trapped under it still there. I made movement towards the light, and it didn’t move. It stayed where it was. Slowly I approached it, carefully. I heard the whispers of chimes. I smelled fresh pastries baking in an oven. The light was a doorway, but I couldn’t see into it. I stepped forward until my nose was against the light. I couldn’t see through it. I lifted a hoof, and nudged it towards the light, slowly moving it into it. I wanted to stop, everything in this dream body screaming at me to halt. I pushed the hoof through the barrier of light.
The third stake burst from the ground. Turbulence. The tarp was loose. Only one stake held down a single corner. Those under were free to go. But they didn’t. The tarp still hovered above them. Covering them in its shadow. I stepped full through the door of light. My eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, but soon I was able to make out furnishings. A glow appeared in the corner of the room and quickly and quite suddenly burst in intensity, lighting the whole room in a ghastly orange color. The room darkened again just as quickly, but the glow remained, casting eerie shadows off the furniture. At first, I didn’t recognize where I was. I never went in here after the murders. I sealed off their room from that day on. Their room. The children’s room. Upon my realization stains on the floor materialized, red in color, and faint cries came from the battered cribs hulked against the walls. I stumbled back, terrified by the vision. A miscalculation of my footing caused me to twist my legs up and tumble back through the door, but it didn’t lead back the dark. Another room. A bed, the quilt dripping blood. A yellow stallion standing next to it.
The fourth stake broke free, finally, and the tarp lifted away. My eyes became clear in the dream, and there I was standing, next to the bed which held blood but no body. This dream contained two of me, and it had us both in the same room, at the same bed. The other me though, he was a wreck. He own fur was matted down with red liquid in several places, his apron torn, dark bags under his eyes. He was a ruined colt. I felt the need to get closer, but as soon as I took my first steps forward, he turned on me, staring at me wild eyed.
He screamed, “You did this! It’s your fault, it has always been your fault!” I found myself at a loss for words. “You did it all! You could’ve stopped this!” The words stung, because for the longest time I believed them to be true. But they weren’t, they couldn’t have been. I wanted to respond, correct him, but this demonic version of me, a representation of my own inner self (It had to be!) had other plans. Pulling it from hammerspace, the other me had Lucky’s customized revolver. I realized I had it too, and in that instant I saw where this was going. Shots fired, turbulence grew, bullets struck, flesh was torn open. He hit the ground dead, and in that instant I woke up. I was sweating, panting. The cabin was steady, calm. I looked out the window and saw Canterlot just ahead. The trip through Hell was done. A demon conquered, but was it the one I was after all this time. Wasn’t my true demon Joe himself? Or was I my own devil, my own tarp? We all have our devils, but do we all conquer them?
The thought occurred to me that maybe some of us have more than one demon, and that this flight through Hell wasn’t over yet. Canterlot was just ahead.
Part III: The Events in a Story
Part III: The Events in a Story
Chapter I:
Canterlot
Already had I forgotten about the messages from Caesar’s radio. The cabin window presented me with a view of the Canterlot balloon port. There was a light layer of snow covering it, the storm hadn’t quite made it here yet, but that wasn’t the only thing there. The Royal Guards were out, and they were everywhere. A few were walking out of another balloon. The way they moved, interacted with each other and the passengers-- Their motives were clear. They were searching for me. A few of them were eyeing up the approaching balloon. I needed a way off without being seeing. Royal Guards were thorough though, so a simple disguise wouldn’t work. A number of them were gathering where the balloon would land. Among them I saw the decorated crested-helmet of Shining Armor, the Captain of the Royal Guards. This was going to be difficult. I wasn’t sure what they would do if they found me. They think I killed a cop. They thought I was armed and dangerous, a renegade cop myself with nothing to lose. Funny enough, the latter was true. Would they arrest me, or would they just kill me on sight? I had no idea how they worked or how they extracted justice.
The balloon was getting closer to the platform. The other passengers in the cabin were beginning to stir from their slumber.
“Hey, look at all those guards,” one of them sleepily remarked.
“I heard they’re lookin’ for somepony ‘sponsible for a killin’. Hope they find him,” another said. “They’re searchin’ these balloons it looks like. Do you think he’s maybe on here?” The other pony shrugged. I needed a way off. At the back of the cabin were three doors. One was a bathroom, the other a closet, and the one in the middle led to... I actually wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the Captain’s dormitory, that was up front. My only other thought was luggage storage.
“What did they say he looked like again?” I got up from the window seat and strode down to the doors. The one on the left was a bathroom, the sign on the door said so. The door on the far right was a closet. I saw it open before we took off, and it was filled with things you’d find in a closet, like brooms, a bucket, a few other common place things. The door in the middle, luggage storage maybe. I looked back and saw no one had much with them. If they had luggage, it must be stored somewhere. Hard to imagine that no one would have brought at least a small briefcase with them or even a saddlebag.
“I thought he was yellow or somethin’. Is that right?”
“What color was his mane and tail?”
“I don’t quite remember. Do you remember his cutie mark?”
“It was some sort of food I reckon.” Slowly, I pushed the door open with a hoof. It was dark inside the room, cold too.
“Landing in five minutes everyone! Please return to your seats!” the old doorcolt shouted. Ignoring him, I pushed on into the room.
“They were like cakes or something, like his name, Carrot Cake.”
“Oh oh, I thinkin’ you’re right!”
The door shut behind me and I was alone in the dark. There wasn’t any heat in here; it was cold, freezing cold. I shivered there in the dark, not sure where to move. I couldn’t see a thing. I prodded around with my hooves for a bit. Several times I thought I contacted what felt like cases, and judging by the rather tell-tale material, luggage cases. I also managed to find some saddlebags too. This was a luggage compartment.
The cabin lurched forward suddenly, throwing me into the luggage on the floor. A utility door was on the floor, which now hung open with me hanging halfway out of it, partly dangling out of the balloon, staring down at the landscape far below. Blasting cold wind threatened to tug me the rest of the way out and send me plummeting, but I managed to hang on. Strangely, not once did I feel any sort of fear. All I felt was a bit of surprise, and perhaps annoyance with yet another obstacle in my way. That’s all I registered, an obstacle. I was becoming a machine, a machine that was hell bent on its programmed objectives.
I craned my neck around to the dock, but I was under it, and all there was was a massive concrete wall, but it wasn’t one without features. Down a ways under the platform there was a lighted service balcony with a door leading into the wall. The lights gave it away clearly, their shine also reflecting up and down the wall, giving me a rather good view of it. I wonder what it was for, but either way, there it was. Any normal non-pegasus pony now wouldn’t even think of formulating the plan I was processing. I can’t believe I thought of it myself. A jump from the balloon would be suicidal. There was no way I could make it. It was pretty far down the wall. The balloon was getting closer to it. As we got closer, I noticed the wall was on a horizontal slant. I thought about angle, speed velocity, things I didn’t really know anything about. If I jumped at the right time, and at the right angle, could I make it? Could I even get a good jump out of this hole. I was hanging halfway out of it already. Maybe I could slow my descent with the wall. The slant as I was finding out wasn’t as steep as it had looked from farther away. What if I made it? What if I didn’t?
The balloon lurched suddenly, and I felt it rising. The platform hung over the wall, and the balloon was rising to get above it in order to land. Shining Armor and his troop would no doubt search every part of this ship. Hiding didn’t seem to be an option. Slowly, painfully, I managed to haul myself back up into the luggage room. The room was still dark, and still did the teeth of the freeze hurt, and only a tiny bit of light managed to sneak in through the ground door. This storm was another problem, but not one for now. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Another door was above me on the ceiling. It most likely led to the top of the cabin, that or another room maybe. I wasn’t sure how big the cabin was. I felt that the airship was still rising. I thought about the jump again. Surely it was suicide. Who’s to say I’d ever even be able to swing into the wall?
If I missed, I could at least be safe in the fact that death would most likely be swift, and if anything, painless if I went directly to the ground. I thought about the door above me, maybe I could still hide somewhere. I wondered if I could get into the balloon itself maybe. The balloons were held up not just by different gases and air, but with large metal struts that kept the shape and structure. There was generally a maintenance hatch that went into the balloon. Airships were usually constructed by earth ponies, their own way to take to the skies. Of course, these balloons were also held by toxic fumes and gases. It wouldn’t be entirely safe up there. Also, if I was to ever cause any sort of spark in there, the whole thing would go into flames. Plus, who’s to say the guards won't see me trying to get into it. The airship was getting closer to the landing platform. I needed to take an action.
Back at the floor hatch, the wall was getting both closer and farther. The closer we got to the platform, the farther we got from the maintenance ledge below. My options were slim, and with the realization that there was no reluctant knot in my stomach, I ran to the back of the room, turned, and galloped hard to the hatch. I managed to fit myself smoothly through the door hole, and like that I was airborne. An icy blast of wind pushed me closer to the wall. I was approaching fast, wind and air tugging at every fiber in my body. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open even just a crack. From where I could see, I’d be able to land on the slanted wall. My legs spread out, slightly slowing down my descent. Again, I noted the lack of fear in my free-fall, much less the fact I held no regret to doing such a thing as this.
For a brief moment, I felt as if I was approaching too fast, that I could slam into the wall and thus have no success in this at all. I then realized that this would have been the case regardless, especially with this pushing wind.
Like a lightning paced bullet-train, fear hit me in mid-air and I realized I was going to die. My only hope was that it would be quick. I was ready to see my family again now, but were they ready for me? Did they want me? I wasn’t able to save them, and now I wasn’t able to save myself. I wasn’t able to grant their murderer the justice he deserved. Would they want me knowing I wasn’t able to avenge their fate? Surely that’s what they wanted. It’s what I wanted.
It was all over now though. I should have taken my chances with Armor and his guards. Instead I decided to suicide out of this. The wall was getting closer. At that moment I think I realized that in the back of my mind, this entire idea was nothing more than a try at death. I cursed myself.
Then suddenly there was a wrenching pain in my side that had the wind knocked out of me. I found extended g-forces pushing me horizontally. I wasn’t able to breath. I think I even blacked out for a moment. I felt myself take several twisting turns before coming to a halting stop and being dropped to my feet on hard concrete. Breaths came in painful rasps as tried to collect myself and stand. Every inch of my body hurt. I felt like a giant bruise.
“Wait a minute!” a pitchy voice cried out from above me. My eyes searched my surroundings and noticed flickering lights dancing along the concrete. There was shadow hovering over me. The voice sounded female. “Mr. Cake?!” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Someone I knew, not directly, but... There was a hard kick to my side and I was on my back gasping for air. Everything was spinning out of control, nothing was focusing. All there was were blurring lights and dark shadows mixing with each other. “I, I can’t believe it’s you!” The voice again, this time sounding off with distinct aggressiveness. Whoever it was, they recognized me, and from the sound of it, they didn’t realize who they had just saved, and it sounded as if he, or she (I still at this point couldn’t tell who owned the voice, it wasn’t very mature and cracked a lot, a young female was my best guess. Also, my head was throbbing) was regretting it.
I tried to speak, muttering “Wa-wait a mi-minute!” I was still groping for air. Slowly, my eyes regained their focus. Shapes began to form. A quick blurred glance around me proved that I was where I had intended to go. The lamps lit up the ledge, and the railing was right next to me. There were a pair of blue whooves standing on the other side of me. I recognized the color instantly, and for a moment didn’t believe my eyes, thought it was only a mirage covering the true image of whoever saved me. This was the same color as Cup, her fur color, that blue! The mirage was taunting, my own brain feeding me continued delusions. Perhaps I was still suffering from the forceful trip to this platform, my head not entirely back together yet. But as my eyes went up the legs, I realized this was not her. The legs were longer, the body thinner, this pony had the wings of a pegasus, and a mane that was the color (or colors) of a rainbow hung over the pony’s shoulder.
Now I knew the name, a friend of Pinkie Pie’s. Her name was Rainbow Dash. I thought about what possibilities could come from this right now.
“That was you falling from that thing?” She grunted loudly and reeled back. “More than half of all Equestria is looking for you! What did you do?” She left behind any knowledge that she saved me and right away began to accuse me.
“I didn’t do anything!” I pleaded. She rolled her eyes, annoyed.
“Everyone thinks you did something !” she stressed. “The radio said you killed a cop pony!” I struggled to my feet, rasping, still shaken by the fall.
“Well it isn’t true. I was, as corny as it sounds, framed!” She moved into a striking position, upper body hugged close to the ground, ears back, neck and head straight, front hooves outstretched except for one, and her wings ready to fly.
“That’s what they all say!” she hissed. She was just ready to pounce. How did she get here anyways? Why was she here? Maybe she was out for that bounty Keylocker had promised. Who knows how many others were after me for that.
“So what? You’re here to get that reward? I can put up a fight!” That was a bad bluff, as I was clearly straining to simply stand up straight. But she backed off a little bit, and her face turned into something a bit remorseful.
“Actually, Mr. Cake... Pinkie wanted me to find you and bring you back to Ponyville, to hide at Sugarcube Corner.” She sat back, rubbed one of her arms nervously. “She’s worried sick about you, she didn’t even know you left Ponyville until she heard about you on the radio. She wants you to come back home.” I dropped my head and felt tears tugging at my eyes. I wanted to go back home as much as Pinkie wanted me too I’m sure. But I couldn’t, not yet.
“I...” a pause, then, “I just can’t. Not now. This isn’t over.” She gave me a puzzled look. Naturally she didn’t know my side of the story, what I’ve uncovered and what I must face.
“But why not?” she said, her voice cracking as she talked. “But, you have to come back!”
“No! Look, I have too much to finish, I can’t give up. How did you find me anyways?”
“Twilight knew a spell that could be used to track anypony she wants, as long as she focuses her spell on a pony who is a friend of who she wants to find.” Twilight Sparkle was a purple Unicorn who lived in the Ponyville Library. She was the personal protege of Princess Celestia herself. She was another close friend of Pinkie. “I’m a pretty fast flyer, so it take me too long to fly up here, though I gotta say, that looks like one hay of a snow storm blowing in! Anyways, I saw the airship and thought you might be on it. But then I saw somepony falling so I had to go and save him, and it was you! What were you doing anyways?” Now I wasn’t sure what to say. It was such a scatter-brained scheme, and I’m pretty sure it was my subconscious trying to kill me.
“Oh um, I was just trying...” I needed something else, an excuse. Tell her it was an accident? No, best she be told the truth. I don’t know why, but I felt like I needed to something right, something righteous and true through all this hell. “I... think it was suicide.” It stung, hurt to say it, but deep down I knew that’s what that convoluted plan was all about. An attempt to bring an end to my troubles. It seemed my demons were still with me, not yet fully vanquished. “I wanted to jump to this ledge, a stupid idea, but, it was crazy, stupid, just enough to kill me. But then you came and saved me.” She stared at me with a bit of disbelief.
Finally she said, “What? You tried to kill yourself?” Her voice cracked harshly. It was the only thing I really noticed in her sudden rage. “How could you do that?”
“I--I don’t know! You don’t what I’ve had to live through! It’s, too much to explain...” I exhaled deeply and sat down, slouching against the guardrail. “My family is dead, all of Equestria wants me dead. It wasn’t thought through very well I guess.” I managed a sort of chuckle, deep and grizzled. “The pegasus genes always were on Cup’s side of the family.”
Dash offered a hoof, withdrew it and bit her lip. “Please come back, I can’t bear to see her stressed like she is right now.” I shook my head.
“Not until he’s dead.” I turned away from her, slowly moved up onto my feet using the strength I didn’t have and I turned towards the service door. This platform still didn’t make much sense, and this service door allowed for more than just Pegasus to get down here.
“What?” she stammered. “Not until who’s dead?”
“An old friend.” That didn’t tell her much, but I didn’t intend to tell her much. I wrapped my hoof around the doorknob and twisted it open. The door lead down a dark hallway with concrete walls. Nothing else was very visible. I noted the silence behind me. She needed to leave, go back and tell Pinkie, or maybe even lie to her, that everything would be alright. I doubted things would. “Rainbow--” I started to say as I turned back around, but I stopped when I found the platform empty. She was already gone, flying back to Ponyville through the incoming storm. I hoped she would make it through okay. It was time to move on then.
The hall lead deep into blackness, no lights of any kind could be seen. The walls, floor and ceiling were bare concrete, and again I wondered what the point of this platform was. There were no bits of machine or instrumentation to be seen on the platform other than the two lamps, and the platform was surrounded by concrete, and way up high above was the airship landing platform that hung over the valley below. I thought about it, and wondered if maybe the platform offered access to the landing pad? What kept it up? But no, if any sort of work needed to be done, Pegasus could handle it, fly back and forth between whatever work there was under the pad and back to the top of the pad if they had supplies there. Of course, maybe they couldn’t keep tools and whatever other materials they needed on top of the pad during hours for operation. Maybe that had something to do with it, and they would keep whatever they needed to work with down here. Regardless, this wasn’t important, and the thoughts were doing nothing more than keeping my mind off of what still lay ahead.
The hall was dark and foreboding, no lights. The lamps only illuminated the hall for a few feet. Beyond the lamps, over the valley, the dark of night remained. Snow once again reared in it’s head, light flakes from the black clouds high above. I stepped into the darkness of the hall, found no warmth though; it was as cold in here as it was outside. I thought about Shining Armor and his guards searching the airship. Would they find the open hatch? Undoubtedly they would if they searched well enough. I wasn’t on the passenger list though, so that might buy me a little time. I wasn’t sure how it would go up there. If they found the hatch, would they figure I jumped? What if they searched below the platform? On that matter I decided to close the door behind me, sealing me inside the darkness. With no light to guide me, I started down into the hall.
There was a dampness to the cold air, and there was a slight increase in my breathing process at the added weight of the wet air. There were no sounds except for the ones created by my passage, the sounds of hooves against the concrete floor, and the sound of my breath. Through this dark underground alley, there was no way to tell how far ahead the exit was, if there was a door, if there was a dead end or a turn or stairs. It was complete blindness. I thought briefly of scraping the walls, looking for some sort of light switch. I didn’t see any lamps or switches at the entrance, and I couldn’t see if there were any lights above me either, if there were even lights to turn on in the first place. There had to be somewhere, there had to be something . Doors alone couldn’t illuminate this passage, would it always require a unicorn to use magic to find a way through? Someone with a torch or electric flashlight? Again the thoughts of reasoning out the structural makeup of a hallway were nothing more than a distraction to keep my mind off of the confrontation ahead.
Maybe that’s what I needed to focus on. I didn’t feel any better when I shifted my thoughts then, but I felt it prepared me better. Where would I go first? I don’t know if Joe expected me or not. I didn’t arrive with him at the airships, and with that attack on Caesar’s home, I’m guessing he thought something was up. For all he knew, I was dead. He knew I was never the strongest stallion around, probably not the brightest either. Even I had to agree with all of that. But sometimes when life needs it, it can kick into full gear and then some, propelling the body and brain beyond their normal output. He didn’t underestimate me, I underestimated myself and what I could do when put to the test. An element of surprise would be useful, I could get an edge on Joe. Take him before he knew what happened. And then that would leave the matter of Lucky. He killed Whooves, undoubtedly. And if Noteworthy was dead too, then I wouldn’t put it past to say Lucky didn’t have a hoof in that either. Two murders right there. And Keylocker, was he aware? I wouldn’t think so, but then I wouldn’t of thought Lucky to be involved in anything like this either. But when he first told me to head the train station, he wasn’t faking his condition. This was becoming a long case for him, and with me running around, no doubt it got worse for him.
Joe and Lucky, targets A and B. I expected Joe to be at his donut shop. He didn’t just work there, it was his home too, just the same as Sugarcube Corner is my work and home. I wondered if he’d be sleeping. I figured it to be around four in the morning. Sunrise began at around five-thirty or six. I wasn’t really sure when the Princess got around to doing it. I was always asleep until the sun was high enough to creep into my room through the window. If Joe was sleeping, then I’d need to find him before he woke up. What better way to take an enemy when they are asleep? Dirty, and unfair maybe, but at this point I didn’t care. This wasn’t about being fair, a fair fight, a fair chance to live. This was revenge, and I was dead set on it. I was changing into something, dark and sinister, something evil perhaps. Fight darkness with darkness, and hope to Celestia that you could climb your way back to the light when it was over, and that you could return to a better life.
Outside I imagined the storm picking up. Canterlot always had a nightlife, but with this storm, I could see it scattering for cover. Through the chaos I would walk and take action. The burning pit of Tartarus would freeze over as its gates accepted another lost soul. Our Hell, Tartarus, always has room for another dead heart. For a while, I thought about if it would accept mine too given the chance. I figured that it would without a second thought.
Chapter 2:
Running out of Luck
The hallway, or tunnel as it more turned out to be, was far simpler than I had perceived. While I never became aware of any off-hallways or rooms, the main corridor was a straight passage that led out to a small building at the edge of Canterlot, right up against the mountain the city was built upon. The building was nothing more than a large steel matchbox with some windows and a door, standing in harsh contrast to the rest of the city. My guess was that it was a warehouse, and those who worked here probably made use of the tunnel every now and again for maintenance. In fact, I felt this warehouse proved my earlier thoughts on the use of the ‘hallway’.
Darkness was still in control here, and snow was lightly building up on the ground. There were no lights except for a dim security lamp that glowed at the door of the building. I didn’t stay here long to take in the rest of the surroundings though. There were errands to do. Firstly, visit the donut shop and drop something off for an old friend. It might get messy, but that didn’t matter. After that, I needed to pick up some clovers from a colt who specialized in farming them. When I was done with that, I’d go back home, clean up the mess, and try to go back to everyday life. The shopping list was clear and cut. Nice and ordered, though I suppose not every list needs to be completed in order starting at item number one and going down the list one by one.
My memory picks up at when I was making my way through some of the outer streets and I happened to pass by a carriage garage. Buses, taxis, everyday public transports were kept stocked here, all protected by an ornament roof not unlike many of the roofs that dominated the city skyline. The garage was open, and standing by himself in the middle of the lot was Lucky. Somewhere he had picked up dark shades, a rather odd commodity for the night life. Maybe the garage lights were too hard on his soulless eyes. He rubbed hoof on his chest, apparently waiting for somebody. Then he saw me standing at the entrance to the garage.
“Carrot!” he shouted. Slowly, cautiously, I moved into the building, my eyes focused on the back-stabbing stallion. “Carrot, what are you doing here? Everyone’s looking for you! But hey, maybe I got some good news for you.” He was playing it bogart, still going off the idea that I killed Whooves.
“Lucky, so where do you fit into all of this?” He shot his most charming smile at me and cocked his head to the left, faking ignorance.
“Fit into what Carrot?” he replied with a mock tone of innocence. “Look, I know you didn’t do it alright? And like I said, I got something to clear this up, the real guy.” I figured now his glasses were there to stop his eyes from betraying his setup mood and tone.
“That train, the sugar, it was on it’s way for you too pick up.” I continued my advance on him. I wanted him to say it, confess up. He snorted and gave me a wry grin.
“Think you have it all figured? C’mon, this is about money! Whooves, ha!” He started to step closer to me. We advanced on each other now. “C’mon Carrot, let me get you out of this.” I figured that was close enough.
“I’ll take that as a confession,” I said. My voice was toneless, giving no sign of emotion. We were close now, standing in front of one another. He peered over his glasses and gave me another smile.
“Fine by me Carrot.” And if right on cue, a spotlight hit us from our right, and a hefty stallion came barreling from the light. I pushed back, throwing myself on the ground while managing to catch a glimpse of large wooden stage coach flying by. I got to my feet, but by then the carriage was heading deeper into the garage, Lucky onboard. I wasn’t letting anything get away this time. My hooves flared underneath me, throwing me forward in a hard gallop in the direction of Lucky’s carriage. The garage road took a left and down a ramp, leading to a lower parking level. There was a power box on the way, which meant anything below the first floor was electric. I didn’t think much of this at first, nor did I see it right away, but this would come in handy as I flew past the corner at the bottom of the ramp, found the walls and floor around me being peppered with bullets, and eventually tumbled behind a concrete pillar with a taxi carriage snuggled up next to it that for whatever reason was giving residence to a jug of water, one of those kinds that you put on those office dispensers.
The wall behind me exploded as a bullet chipped through the pillar and into a set of loose hanging wires that were draped across the wall, extending from the power box. The wires blew apart, throwing sparks everywhere and creating a burst of white fire that fell to the ground not unlike rain. I pressed back against the pillar to avoid the sparks. I still hadn’t gotten a look at the shooters. They were back there, behind my pillar. I thought I could get a look on the taxi side of the pillar. I waited for a pause from the shooting, and then when there was, I shot my head around the pillar, using the taxi as partial cover. This garage floor wasn’t completely open, in fact, in the middle of the floor there was a large concrete box. I figured it was on office. The shooters were ducked behind two of their own carriages. I managed to catch a glimpse of one of them when he popped back from his cover and resumed fire. I couldn’t tell too well, but it looked like a dog with two pistols. He fired two shots before stopping. They didn’t want to waste ammo on a pillar.
“Geez, can’t hit him if he’s behind that,” someone spoke in a hushed but still audible tone.
“I don’t think he’s armed,” another said.
“Move up, quietly.” This dog sounded bigger, meaner. He started to talk with more volume, and then after a little bit, I realized he was talking to me. “C’mon pony! Come out, we’ll take you to Lucky! He wants you himself!” Likely story. I heard a quiet, barely audible shuffling of feet. Didn’t hear anything else. I figured it was the dog moving up, maybe there were two. There were three voices, one taunted me, and the others had to be advancing. No clopping of whooves. I wasn’t sure how close they were. The wires were still out in front of me a few feet forward and to my left. The wires were split, but split ends on both sides were still swaying from whatever currents they were receiving. There were three wires total. Two of three extending from the electrical box were still swaying, the other hung limp and dead. For the wires that extended the other direction, only one swayed. This was the thickest wire, probably the most dangerous one. I thought of my options. There was the water jug, and water loved to conduct electricity. But as I thought about, I realized how bad a plan it was. I’d expose my self heavily to whoever was creeping on my pillar, and it take to long probably to take the work to splash them with with, or throw forth a puddle big enough to reach them. Plus I’d have to find more time to jump, grab the wires, and stab them into either the hunters themselves or the water. It’d take too much time, and it probably wouldn’t work.
Those wires hung limply, swaying with the currents passing through them, the currents that had nowhere to go. The large wire was loose up to about four feet, not a lot. But, I wondered how close they were. The lights in the garage though, electric and bright, hanging from the ceiling, began to betray their positions, casting shadows along the side of the pillar. I caught the shape of one, noting it was another dog. He was close, they both must’ve been. The wire wasn’t that far from me, but I’d have to break cover. Did they want to kill me outright? Or did they just want to capture me?
A furry gray hand tipped with clawed fingers reached around the pillar, clawing my shoulder, drawing blood. I darted forward, glanced back and saw a dog leaping at me. He wanted to capture me. The other dog was drawing a gun. He wanted to kill me. He grabbed my haunches, dragging my back end to the ground. I managed to reach the wire and was able to grab the rubber coating in my teeth and tugged hard, bringing the wire further from the wall, doing my best to keep the frayed end away from me. The dog tried to cling on to me, but I flashed a back hoof across his face and used my other back leg to kick him between the legs and push him forward (He was a pretty short dog) closer to the wire. I rolled off my back and brought the wire too him as he tried to stand up, stabbing him in his bare chest. The frayed wires within the rubber coating cut through the dog’s fur and went into his skin.
He didn’t shriek, didn’t yell, he simply went rigid and silent as volts of electricity went through his body, frying his internal systems and killing his brain. The dog, horrified, brought his gun up and started to fire. I let go of the wire (Surprisingly it stuck to the dog, apparently happy with the fact it had something to pass electricity into) and swung out right. The other dog was visibly shaken by his partner’s demise and had accidentally shot him several times with his disrupted aim. Realizing his mistake, he swung his arm out, trying to follow me with his gun. He fired twice before his gun clicked dry. Seeing a chance, I bolted towards him, ramming him head on. Off in the distance the last dog behind the wagons fired once. I have no idea where that shot went, but it didn’t get me or this dog. But regardless, I landed the dog on the ground, reared up, and put as much strength as I could down onto him. He had managed to roll away a bit, but his arm didn’t make it out in time. The sound of his breaking bones was clear, and the feeling of his arm giving out beneath me shook through my entire body. The dog briefly screamed in sudden agony before I leaped over him, deliberately leaving one hoof too low to catch him in the head, knocking him out cold. I kept darting forward, past the last dog and his barricades and heading to get out of his sight and get behind the office and its concrete walls. I heard another gunshot behind me but it missed, so I kept going.
I managed to get around the office block, out of sight from the dog. I ran around to the next side of the block, found an ajar door and shoved it open, the door then banging shut behind me after I had gone through. The room was lit by a single lamp centered on the ceiling. It was a dull yellow, but offered enough light anyways. The dog I figured would be making his way around now too, blast through the same door I just came through, and gun me down best he could. I started to search the room, for a weapon, anything for defense. I couldn’t be running these tactics all day. And I needed to catch up to Lucky. I wasn’t sure how this garage worked, how far underground it went, and if there was a way out at the bottom, or if it was all just parking, and the only exit that existed was the one on the floor above me. Though in truth it didn’t really matter all that much, not if I didn’t have something to protect myself with from those thugs of his. I wasn’t sure if they were all dogs or not, and pegasi and griffins would be hard ones to go up against with any sort of close combat weapon, but either way I wasn’t seeing much in this office other than a dusty shelf and an old oak desk. Nothing really to go out against with. I could take my chances.
Behind me, the door creaked softly. I dropped myself to the ground as the first bullet flew overhead, the bang of the gun starting up a terribly painful ringing in my ears. The sound careened off the solid concrete walls in the room, which in truth was rather small. I got up, stumbled around a bit from the ringing, but glimpsed that the echoing blast of the gun had caught him off-guard as well. I shook my head, trying to displace the ringing, while at the same time making a movement for the door and the dog. He was wearing a purple fedora with pinstripes and a matching coat. It looked nice, if not a bit cocky. I managed to pick up up with a small charge and shoved my head straight into his stomach. His hat started to fall forward but I caught it and held it against his face. The ringing lessened slightly, but the pain still had me squeezing one eye tight, my mouth sucking in air, trying to make it go away. He fell onto his back, my left front hoof still pressing the hat against his face, and in an act of desperation and rage, derived perhaps by the ringing itself, my other hoof crashed down onto the hat. There was a sick thud and a muffled yelp, and the hoof came down again, and again.
When I was finished, the ringing had mostly deteriorated, and fell over on the ground exhausted by the sudden exertion of energy on the dog’s face. I breathed harshly, and slowly it came to me, what I did. Once again I found myself surprised, but this time not utterly depressed or even remorseful, at my sudden brutality. Electrocuting was one thing, as I didn’t really kill him, the wire did. I threw the wire on him, but it wasn’t the same feeling. The second dog was unconscious on the floor by his dead companion, his arm severely shattered. He didn’t die, so nothing felt wrong there. He was only immobilized, and while the feel of his arm crushing beneath me was certainly something to physically behold, emotionally it was nothing. But this last dog, the rage that blew through me, by the simple ringing in my ears! This experience felt different, felt new, felt strange. Again another shattered skull, perhaps not that different from the dog back at the train station earlier this same night (Could it still only be that recent? The cold blast of this winter night was still upon me, through all of these events, but it was starting to feel so old, so long ago in a distant past, maybe even another timeline). A wake of bodies lay dead in this night, many from my own doing. But that was the course of revenge wasn’t it? Wasn’t it the inevitable? Death seemed almost necessary here, the only way to feel better about anything. The only thing to make my actions seem complete. That’s all this was. Not a journey into my soul (Though it certainly had become that as well), not a search for justice (Though it was that too), not a fight against evil, with myself being ‘the good’ (Though this drug was evil, Joe was evil, but I‘m evil too, isn’t that right?). This was nothing but revenge. Revenge with a few quests on the side. A written out story with subplots to keep the reader interested in the rest of the story’s universe.
But were the subplots here? The drug I suppose, the hunt for the drug. The nationwide hunt for me too. Those were the subplots of this story. They made the story fuller and full of life, more adventure, more interesting than it was or even tried or pretended to be.
And somewhere in this thought process, I had gotten up, a knife being held in my mouth, found in the dog’s purple and pinstripe coat. When I woke from this thinking, I was heading to the next floor of the garage, and somehow, somewhere in my mind, did I know this was the final floor. I shouldn’t have known that, nothing gave it away, nothing I remember coming upon or finding. It was the last floor. And since Lucky never came back up, either there was another exit, or was trapped down there, barricaded, perhaps sure that I was never going to make it this far, but still setup just in case. But, no as I came around the final corner the wagons were there, barricading the future dead. Lucky had run into a dungeon. A dungeon where the only out was past the guard with the drive for blood, ready to kill anyone who tried to make their way out of his dungeon. Lucky thought he was the guard initially, but now he was the prisoner, and I was the guard. The only question though, the only feature; Lucky wasn’t the only prisoner. There was only ever one guard, and could only one stop every prisoner from getting out alive? At least one was sure to land a final blow to the guard, the power of numbers, overwhelming the guard.
But the guard wouldn’t think of this. He would kill as many as he could before his own slaughter. Stop as many as he could form getting back into the world.
I came around the corner and the guns went off. Instead of reeling back behind the corner, I burst forward behind a full carriage made of sturdy oak wood, judging by the lingering scent. It was a brand new wagon, and already it’s young life was being shot up with lead. It was a small floor, not as big as the last. Their wagons were huddled in one corner, this one stood on the other side of the room, opposite from them. Somehow I evaded them all to get behind this one carriage. I noticed a single parking brake, a block of wood shaped like a wedge. I wasn’t especially known for how wagons worked or engineering of parking garages, but this struck me odd, and then I remembered the cab I hid behind earlier. No brake. In fact, this brake was large, obvious, and I didn’t remember seeing any before on any of the other parked vehicles. Of course, I wasn’t exactly stopping to see if everything had a parking brake on it. But this block, only one, to keep it form what? Thievery? This block wouldn’t hold it for that. Rolling away? It could only roll away if it wasn’t on a flat surface.
Flat surface. The answer already in my mind. This carriage was on a hill, not a visible one to my eyes, but it had to be on one, or else this block of wood was useless. Everything had a reason, right? Maybe not, but I could try anyways. It was on a front wheel, close to me, and I kicked it out. At first it didn’t move, but as several more bullets hit the wood, the force managed to break it form the concrete floor, and slowly it began to move. It was aimed at them, right at them, but I wanted to break their barricade. This slow roll wouldn’t be enough, not by a long shot. I decided that I’d help it out.
I got in front of it and began to push with the energy I had left. A bullet ricocheted off of a wall and grazed my shoulder. I yelled in pain, and there was a brief pause in the shooting, the shooter believing they had scored a hit.
But then someone yelled, “Hey! I can see his stinkin’ yellow feet under the wagon! Keep shootin’!” The gunfire resumed, their bullets eating their way through the wood. It wasn’t a very good way to go about it, shooting me, but it seemed at least one thug got the idea to try and bounce bullets off the concrete under the carriage. One bullet bounced off of the concrete and jumped off past my neck, slicing through my coat collar. I still kept pushing the carriage, and slowly I could feel it picking up more speed. There wasn’t much more space to cover, but I only needed them distracted.
“Hey, what is he doing?” one of them shouted.
“He’s pushing the cart? Sweet Tia!”
“Everyone get down, reload!” That was Lucky. Ironic name. There was nothing lucky about this, not for him anyways.
Finally, I the carriage had picked up enough speed through the small stretch of land, and it impacted hard against the barricade. I was still pushing, using my head, neck, chest, and the impact jarred me and threw me back. There was crunching wood, a scream, and assorted misfired guns.
As I muscled back onto my feet, I caught Lucky with the corner of my eye sprinting out from beyond the wreckage, leaving behind the sick groaning of his wounded, leaving them to, apparently, whatever fury I had in store for them. I wasn’t solely after them. If they were still jarred up, no sense in taking them out now while Lucky was only just getting to the inclined road leading back top. I managed to bring myself back up and quit out the staggering, and once I was back up I started after Lucky, who had fatally stopped for a moment to look back and check the damage from afar. He should’ve kept running. He saw me now though, and sprinted up the incline with me now hot on his tail. As we rounded the first corner he started to draw his gun. I came around the corner after him and found myself looking down the barrel of his gun as it appeared right around.
When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, time seems to slow down, almost stop as everything flashes by in front of your eyes, a series of visions that correspond to your past. In a second which feels like years, every bit of pain and joy you encountered at some point in your life sweeps through you like electricity passing through water. When it’s all over, you finally acknowledge that the bullet is for you, and that this is the end. The ‘Game Over’ emblem blazing at you from the video screen of an arcade game, this game universally called ‘Life’. Life to the max. The game where you max out, you get capped out. I must’ve missed the point in my life where I had maxed out, but it wasn’t always so obvious.
But as life started to return to normal speed, and as the visions finally came up the present, I couldn’t accept this was my bullet. It wasn’t my bullet. Lucky wasn’t yet ready, he wasn’t watching for me, and he didn’t even have his head fully up. When he finally noticed me passing by he shot his gun, but it was too late. I had already ducked past, turned, and was coming at him again. He tried to take off again, but a gun strapped to your hoof didn’t make it any easier to walk. He tipped over it and fell. The strap for his gun came loose and I grabbed for it, taking it by the grip and bringing it up to his chin. Time for questions.
“Lu--” I had only begun to say his name when fire erupted from the gun’s nozzle. I had grabbed the grip right where the trigger was. With the gun having almost slipped, I had squeezed it for a better hold on it, bringing back the trigger in the process. The strap on it was what kept it tight without need to hold it on the grip. The only time you needed to handle it was when you intended to fire it. I didn’t intend to do that, but in all truth, I was probably going to do it whether I held alive for a few minutes or not. He was dead either way.
Chapter III:
Carrot, Dearest of all my Friends!
The snowstorm was finally blowing in like a ravenous spewing Smooze, covering the city in a layer of white unhappiness. The air had grown beyond chilly, now it was just numbingly dead end cold. The streets were empty, Canterlot seemed deserted, but it was probably better this way. Less innocence to perish in the oncoming crossfire. Less blood melting through the snow. Less bodies in the morgue.
Behind me fingers of ice ravished the bodies in my wake, turning them blue, the bodies becoming popsicles of flesh and bone. Lucky was one of these, a backstabbing ‘Former and No-Longer’ cop from Ponyville, dead from his own injustices. I just happened to deliver the final blow. Whoever I was in the past was now long dead, and I knew that could never return, maybe attempt, but it’d never be the same. That happy little bakery in Ponyville will always have an air of gloom, depression, and death surrounding and filling it. Blood stains that will never come out no matter how much you clean the floors, no matter how much it seems to have disappeared into the rags and water. This all went for Lucky too, except the part here he could attempt to hit the old way of life again, before he got involved in with this whole sugar business Joe, Caesar, and my wife got into those years ago. He was dead, a silent body now that had answers.
Where was Joe? It was the only answer I wanted right now. Anything else that still gripped me could come later. I was on Joe now, he was next.
I decided to begin with the only reasonable locale that he could be at, one I had planned to visit earlier before I ran into Lucky. Donut Joe ran a pastry shop, a bakery, here in Canterlot. He had affectionately named it after its esteemed owner. The place was called Pony Joe’s , a little diner like establishment that had the air and feel of an eatery from sixty or so years ago. Old retro styled place complete with an ages old jukebox and those pointy looking tables and fancy lights. It wasn’t far from where I was now. I figured I could find my way through the snowy blizzardly streets.
Hanging at my waist was Lucky’s custom revolver, packed neatly in the holster on Lucky’s custom belt that I had strapped around me, keeping this coat of mine on nice and snug. I managed to check the chamber, found five bullets in it. They were the only bullets left to find after capping Lucky. Those former six were his last attempt to keep himself alive. Now these current five were my attempt.
It took maybe twenty minutes to locate the diner, and when I did it was clear no one was home inside, all the windows dark. But the place wasn’t lifeless. A lone shadowy figure hobbled around the shape of a small carriage. My guess was that he was preparing to take off somewhere. It was a dog though, his shape even through the snow unmistakable. I didn’t see any ponies around to drag the thing through the icy roads and freezing snow though. I wasn’t sure what was going to get him moving, unless he was waiting for someone else to pull the cart, though in this weather, I had no idea who would be crazy enough to pull carriage through this frost. Maybe they’d have to be as crazy as me, the way I’ve been trekking through this single night endlessly. I couldn’t begin to guess how long until morning, or if it already was, the dark clouds and white fury blocking out the sun that was already up. Then again, would Celestia even bring up the sun in weather like this? There’s no need for this kind of snowfall, you’d think the pegasus or even the unicorns now would’ve done something about it by now, maybe even one of the Princesses. But they would if they could, and my guess was that they couldn’t. The storm was an enemy, as much of one as Joe and his drug.
Approaching through the snow, the dog never looked my way. Lucky me. He shut the trunk on the carriage, started to move away towards the diner. As I moved closer, I took notice of his features. The dog still hadn’t wiped the dried blood from his face. The dog from the station at the dawn of this night. I remember overhearing his name once.
“Dirt, Diamond Dog,” I addressed him. He spun around and lost his balance in the snow, and fell. He looked up at me, frozen terror in his eyes.
“Oh shoot, oh shoot!” He scrambled away, sliding through the snow and his back to the diner. He wasn’t like this when I met him earlier. Earlier he was ready to shoot me down and dead along with that griffin. Now he was a child shying away from a schoolground bully, afraid I was going to take his lunch money. “C’mon man, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me!” Maybe it was the gun in my belt, maybe the look in my eyes. Maybe he was just high. I decided to unholster the hammerless revolver and train it on him, carefully slipping my hoof through the band on the gun. With death by lead staring him in the face, Dirt looked even more terrified.
“I want answers, now. Pony Joe, where can I find him?”
“Nu-uh, no way, I’m not t-talking!” He stuttered, entered a short spasm. He was definitely high. Pressing the gun into his muzzle I asked him again, where could I find Joe. “Hey, don’t hurt me! Y-You’re a cop! You can arrest me! Book me!”
“Tell me where I can find Pony Joe, or this bullet is going to be stuck in the wall behind your head, covered in your brains!” Dirt whimpered pathetically. There was no glory in this. This wasn’t anything I wanted to do. This dog begging for his life, being stubborn at the same time. What else were my options? I didn’t have any others. Threatening, killing, running, repeat. I didn’t want to waste another soul in the snow, not another underling who did it for the money, didn’t care about anything else but the money. He was slime sure. Ugly slime that the streets needed cleansing of. But I didn’t want to do it, not like this, not anymore. Joe was the only piece of trash that needed cleaning, a vat of radioactive waste that would poison and destroy if no one disposed of it properly. But this right now...
This was senseless.
The dog was stupidly high, I wasn’t sure if he’d give me information because of that alone. I waved the gun in front of him again, this time moving the barrel to his forehead, right between the empty pits of garbage that served as his eyes.
“Alright, alright I’ll tell you! Don’t hurt me anymore, please!”
“Where’s Pony Joe?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell ya’. He isn’t here, he left. He went to the EAS tower, you know where that is?” I nodded. The Equestrian Agricultural Society building. I’ve been there before. Went there for a convention once with Joe. He once worked there in their offices before he was able to open his own bakery. They were in charge of the convention three years ago, the one Cup had gone too. The one I was supposed to go too. “Look man, d-don’t hurt me! I heard what ya did to Lucky! C’mon, don’t kill me too!”
“How did you learn that?” I asked him.
“C’mon man, news travels fast, know what I mean?” Indeed, news did seem to travel fast. I did leave survivors.
“Does Joe know?”
“Heh, why do you think he’s bailing out of here?”
“Bailing...” I remembered that the tower had its own private airship pad. He could get a ride regardless of the weather. But why would they let him get too it? My only guess is that if they were giving Joe the go-ahead to use their facilities, it must’ve meant he had either got by with a good lie, had good partnerships still, or they were all apart of this drug business, making a profit. Taking out Joe wouldn’t have killed the trade instantly. But if he was leading me to who owned it all, the EAS itself, armageddon was about to rain on down on their heads.
I turned to leave. The storm was beginning to die down. Time to find Joe.
“Hey, hey! What are doing? You going to leave me here? I-It’s freezing man, freezing! Arrest me! Arrest me, take me in!” I stomped him in the stomach with one of my back hooves, shutting him up. I holstered the gun and started to walk away. The EAS wasn’t far, it’d be a short walk.
“Reports are coming in that the storm that has been charging across Equestria is finally calming down. No one is yet sure how the storm began, or why it couldn’t be stopped. Some have claimed that long dead and ancient creatures called Wendigos have returned in answer to a series of violent incidents across Canterlot. Just now reports are coming in that a Ponyville Police Officer whose name we are unable to release at the time has been found dead in a parking garage, shot through the head. Several other bodies were also found, those of Diamond Dogs. The dogs were found to have been armed, and it appears several gunfights had occurred throughout the complex. Several survivors, also dogs, were found and arrested though on charges of drug trafficking. Additionally, they claimed that the officer was in fact their ring-leader, and a member of the mysterious crime group responsible for the drug as a whole. We will now take a short commercial break, and remember this is Lyra Heartstrings, for the Late-Night Equestrian News Station.”
The radio addressed the decline of two storms this night. The chaotic winter storm was dispersing finally, though the cold still persisted. Celestia would be lifting up the sun in no time, and Luna in turn would lower the moon. The light would pierce through and remove the clouds and snow, and give everyone a clear view of the world around them again. The light in turn would also reveal the shadows and corpses they would hold in the morning, the aftermath of the night. Already they had found Lucky, and already did his surviving partners destroy his reputation. With that turn of events I might be able to get out of this without the help of Caesar.
Keylocker would be in a tizzy, probably embarrassed even in his hoof in the exalting of Lucky, and putting the bounty on my head. Maybe not though. But with Lucky’s death, and his role in the drug trade revealed, all I had to do was give my side of the story. They were still some holes here and there that could still lock me up, but at least I’d still have my mental health. I could be jailed and still be in relative peace if I get to Joe. If I get to him.
The EAS tower loomed over Canterlot, the second largest building in the city, dwarfed only by Princess Celestia’s grand palace. The structure fit with the architectural style of the rest of the city, nothing looked out of place here. At the tower’s top though was the airship pad, hanging over an extended portion of the building. The doors to the building were shut, but not locked, and I gained entrance. The lobby was large and bare, the only thing to see being the empty receptionists desk and waiting chairs that lined the far walls on either side of the desk. Behind the desk was a stand alone wall that read ‘Equestrian Agricultural Society’, big bold letters, superseded by a portrait of Caesar set behind the words. The background consisted of an artists rendition of Canterlot set in front of a field of wheat, the sun rising in the further background. A picture worth a thousand words, a few on this one including lies and promises.
The desk was empty, no receptionist. There were a few assorted papers and a basket and a typewriter. There was a letter scroll off to the side. It was noted to be from Caesar, and it was dated only an hour ago. An hour...
The letter told whatever employees left at this time of night to leave, and judging by the emptiness, half of the lights off, and shut down machines, they had followed orders. The second half of the lett almost seemed written to me.
“...and I fear many of my trusted security guards and personnel at the tower have been stuffed into the pockets of Donut Joe. Trust none of them, I fear they no longer answer to me, as I was afraid of, with the the head of security, Griff, now on Joe’s payroll.”
At first it looked like I had proof that ghosts could write, but otherwise, Caesar was alive and well. What I saw at his manor was only a play with actors, but here we was still helping me. He was afraid that if I stayed there too long, real killers would arrive and finish us both off. He had to get me out of there, so his own guards staged his death and with their guns in a blaze got me out of there. Revolvers flashing.
I wasn’t a gun buff, not close. But I had no clue what other kind of firearms existed in the world. Revolvers for sure, I had Lucky’s. What else existed? Rifles for one. The Canterlot guards were for the most part unicorns, but relied on magic for offense and defense, and in time of real need they had spears and shields. I didn’t think other guns other than different revolvers from different griffin manufacturers existed, or at least wouldn’t be in the hooves or claws of the guards here. But still, I wouldn’t doubt spears, I bet they would have those. I’d find out soon enough.
Starting into the building I came across the first of the guards. A bulky pegasus who looked to have an attitude problem wearing the standard issue guard uniform was sitting behind the standalone wall, apparently trying to nap. Having someone like me come to disturb him from his sleep wouldn’t put him on his good side. Luckily for me, despite his quick temper, he wasn’t a morning colt. He reacted slowly, and seemed to invite the swift kick to his face I gave him, knocking him back into a good slumber. Elevators were just ahead. I imagined Joe somewhere midway up the tower, probably readying his cronies to make sure I don’t get past the second floor.
The elevators were working, and this one went up several floors. I didn’t know Joe’s security measures, but if he had men on every floor, I could bypass the first couple. Again, I had no idea how he had everything setup. Maybe he kept all of his guards with him. How was I supposed to know? This was Caesar’s building, I didn’t have any idea how he kept it setup either. Slowly, silently, the elevator brought me up. There was nothing but the sounds of my own thoughts. None others. Elevators ,enchanted by magic, rose as silent as bats flew. Me and my thoughts, and all of the time I had between the first and fifth floors.
The elevator eventually came to a stop and the doors slid open. I stepped out into the room, breathing in the warm heated air. The heat of the building weighed down upon me. This was different than the outdoors. Killer cold that made your reactions and thought processes quicker, your body more rigid and being able to respond quicker to the bullets flying towards your face like an angry swarm of bees. I couldn’t allow myself to be overcome by the heat, couldn’t get sluggish. This floor was filled with office cubicles. Who hid behind them I didn’t know, but if anyone was here, at least there was the knowledge they’d be as slow and sluggish as me.
But who’s to say Joe hadn’t pumped them up on the drug? The sugar? All of them pumped and dying to go fifteen rounds with a full grown Hydra. The beauty of the drug in this kind of situation. Made you giddy, unresponsive unless in a situation, paranoid, that feel of being pursued by hungry imaginary demons who wanted nothing more than to rip and tear at your flesh and consume your mind and soul. It made you a stone cold killer who wanted nothing more than to rip and tear the flesh of whoever tried to oppose them, consume not the soul but the flesh in the most painful way possible, then leaving the surviving soul scarred and crippled, stuck forever with the memory of how its case of flesh was destroyed in such a grisly manner.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. My goal was to end Joe and the drug with one fell swoop of my hoof, one fell pull of a trigger, destroying the evil that was built up over the years, and caused so much pain and suffering, with one piece of killer lead through its ugly head. The blood of Joe and the drug would mix on the floor creating a puddle of dark depravity, and somewhere in the blackness my soul would be reflected, and I would hope to Celestia it’d be returned to me with peace of mind, ending my nightmare.
As I stood near the cubicles, dreaming of returned dreams and settled revenge was probably not the smartest thing to do in a building filled with those who wanted me dead, wanting my own blood on the floor mixing with the dust on the carpet. The pegasus had a crowbar and was approaching from the side I wasn’t looking at, my eyes focused out of the fifth story window. I didn’t think to look over if it wasn’t for the sound of a sliding elevator door. I turned, saw the pegasus ready to strike, and a blue fury swept out of the door with an air of gusto and might that took both me and the pegasus by surprise. He lost possession of his blunt weapon to his attacker and had it turned on him, the force of it screaming into his skull, the sound of bones cracking so loud it wouldn’t be surprising if Joe had heard it from the roof. When the assaulter stood up from the cubicles it had flown into, there was that familiar blue, and that same color of eyes. An image again broken by the rainbow mane and tail and wings that marked the identity of a pegasus. Rainbow Dash was back.
“Rainbow Dash? What are-- How did-- What are you doing here?” I could only stutter.
She gave me a guilty smile, a bit of lie behind it no doubt, saying “Not gonna give you up Mr. Cake, this is still for Pinkie.” There was something in her eyes that pointed slightly otherwise. But who knows, maybe I’m just soft for a pretty face and like to fantasize sometimes.
“Dash you know I won’t go back with you. Not until I’m all done here.” She tossed me the crowbar, the stainless black metal rod striking the floor in front of me. She nodded her head. She knew this, I knew it.
“I know that Carrot . But it doesn’t mean I can’t help ya’ finish this faster!” She prepped her wings, sticking them up from her back, ready to pounce on my command. She gave me a cocky smile. She had guts, I couldn’t deny her that. But she wasn’t as brave as she thought she was. Or was she? She killed him, I heard his skull crack! “C’mon, you and me, you made it this far, and I am perhaps the fastest flier in all of Equestria, and I can fight! We can finish this before anyone could say--” I cut her off.
“Dash, no. We could both die, and then who will Pinkie have. You care for her, I do maybe more. And in that case I need to make sure she still has someone. Anyone.”
“What?” Her voice cracked as she rolled the word out of her mouth with a sense of surprise. She had to know I was going to say this. She probably had a response. But I’d be surprised if she didn’t expect that. “Mr. Cake, what about this ?” She gestured to the downed colt on the floor in the cubicle. “I saw you flying out. You saw him and then you looked surprised. I’m pretty smart, got that? You didn’t see him coming! I got him, and without me he would’ve got you! Killed you!” Torture in my mind, she was right but I couldn’t risk her life and mine. Her life wasn’t mine to risk.
“Dash, I thank you, but please try to understa--” The bullet blasted loud with its signature ear shattering depth. I ducked down next to the cubicle, pulling Lucky’s gun. Rainbow Dash in that moment was now my burden. The bullet found a path to her head. Pain striking, she fell back into the elevator, her blood on the floor. The doors shut and the elevator descended, or ascended, I didn’t know. Either way she was dead, another dead mare in my hooves, same color, same piercing eyes. a Personality not too different than Cup’s when she was young. A daring adventurer, charming, beautiful... Not afraid of anything... Now dead.
The elevator door was a shiny silver color, a mirror that showed me the other side of the room from my hiding spot. A dog wearing the security uniform like all security personnel here. I saw him in the reflection, trying to make his way through the cubicles. Not very smart, he wasn’t even trying to do it with stealth, finality or fineness, or anything really. He came barging about, and set himself up as the perfect target. I made my move and shot up over the cubicle, fired once, and with aim truer than I thought I could do, the dog was dead.
Behind me the elevator doors opened, Dash’s elevator. The blood was all there, but her body was gone. Alive, or body pulled by the goons. I longed for the former. The doors shut again, leaving me with the reflective surface.
For a brief moment I was stricken by the image shown back to me. A face I didn’t recognize, and for a moment I even thought another guard was in the room with me. It wasn’t though, it was me. Aged face, unkempt, messed mane, dull eyes vacant of expression or feeling. The yellow fur seemed shades darker than it really was, and the coat I had been wearing all this time was torn and tattered at the shoulders and waist line. Dried blood was here and there, whether it was mine or not I wasn’t sure. It was an awful reflection, a demon staring back at me, a creature trying to break out. The monster that kept me from reaching my family on time! That kept me from saving them! Kept me from dying with them! Again the inner monologue started to encompass me, and I needed to get moving. Joe was still at large. I tried for the next elevator, the door opened, and I entered.
The elevator moved up floor after floor. When it reached the highest it could go, this time only four floors, I exited, and got onto the next one and ascended again. Each switch of an elevator brought me a bit closer to heaven. Eventually, I ended my fourth elevator trip of the night. The doors opened, and the guns started to fire. I fired once back as bullets hit the elevator’s interior, sparks and bits of metal spraying all over me. Two bullets found a path into my shoulder, but somehow I managed to reach up the control panel and select the floor below and me and the doors closed. The doors opened on the next floor and I crawled out, heaving, panting, bleeding. The pain was strong, a thousand fiery needled ripping into my flesh, burning me from the inside out. My shoulder was on fire. I applied all the pressure I could with my hoof, somewhat difficult with the gun still strapped around it.
I hadn’t yet been able to look at the new floor before I heard galloping, and soon enough an earth Pony tackled me in front of the elevator as its doors closed. The earth Pony was average build, light brown and a yellow mane. His eyes were filled with hateful fire, a sick grin telling me he was enjoying his domination here. He delivered a punch to my stomach, then noticing my wounded shoulder fired two more at my shoulder, exuberantly igniting the flames of pain to a higher degree. My gun arm got stuck under his stomach, and feeling the barrels shape against his body, his eyes went wide and his face twisted into a mixture of fear and surprise. Two bullets, perhaps one too many. I’ve been counting my shots, I had only one left. And this one needed to be for Joe. I holstered the weapon and went back to the levators.
The one next to the one I came down on went up three floors above the one above me. The floor indicator on the first one told me it had been called back up. They were coming down, which meant that I needed to start going up. I got in the next elevator and started up as their opened up on my floor. The elevator rose, I was sweating, bleeding. My shoulder still ached with all of the pain in the world, a fire raging. When the elevator stopped I got out. There wasn’t another elevator here, which meant I would need go deeper into the building. There were more floors to go, which means there either had to be more elevators or a staircase, or at least something else, anything else. Pain aside I moved into the floor. This room was mostly empty, lights generated by a magic field illuminated the room, the lights coming from no actual visible source. A reception desk was off to the side with a company banner behind it, the subtitle reading “A Bit Closer to Heaven”. I didn’t know what that meant at all for an agricultural building. It was about as random and senseless as a dead mare getting up and walking the night (Yah, zombies. The gruesome stuff that doesn’t make sense).
I moved ahead, finding cubicles, desks, a lounge, and hallway of offices. At the end of the hall here was Caesar’s office. The way was fine and clear. Approaching the door on the way there, I could hear voices through it, talking, shouting. As my trip here has proven time and time again, I found myself once again not coming up with very good ideas. At best I gunned my leg speed and shoved into the door, smashing it open to surprised faces. The office was large spacious, and as I had crashed through the door, an alarm rang and showed me an interesting feature to the room. This feature was a large glass wall that came down and separated the room in half, Caesar’s desk on one side, myself on the other side. A rather good security measure.
“Ah-haha, Carrot, dearest of all my friends!” On the other side of the glass Pony Joe and two guards, one of them the griffin I had repeatedly seen earlier that night, Griff, the other guard was some earth pony. Joe stood between the two. “It is ridiculous that you have made it this far Carrot. Look, I’m sorry I have to do this old friend, but I have built myself an empire here! The money, it’s good money!” I felt he was trying to justify all of this, but he was doing a bad job.
“An empire? An empire of what? Death? Lies?”
“No, Sugar!” He laughed like a madhorse. “That convention you missed out on changed my life Carrot. It could’ve changed yours too! If only you were there with me. If only your lovely Cup Cake had agreed to that deal I offered her.” He grinned as those last words rolled off his tongue. It was the grin of the devil. “Oh you know how it is Carrot, should’ve would’ve could’ve. Haha-ah!” Deal? He tried to make a deal with my wife?
“Deal, what deal? What did you do to her?”
“Carrot, surely, since High School, you’ve noticed my eye for the lovely lady, yes? This deal would’ve made you both rich, both a part of my empire! Happiness forever! For all of us!” The griffin stood by with a rifle. A rifle . Joe hadn’t answered my question yet.
“What are you talking about Joe? What deal did you make to Cup?”
“Carrot, surely you remember my short temper, yes? I offered her something I couldn’t believe she was finding from you, no offence. Love, Carrot! All of mine. She needed a gentleman by her side, and in my eyes old friend, you didn’t fit the bill well enough. Unleashing those hounds on her, I regret, but alas my anger knows no bound dear friend!” He tried to steal my wife, and killed her because she wouldn’t take his maniacal love. She loved me. Was there any doubt about it? I loved her back, with everything that I had, and I still do. He killed her out of rejection, because with fortune and a life paved in front of her, she chose me and only me instead. Me!
This didn’t wash the survivor’s guilt left behind, but it made me feel a heck of a lot better. Wherever she was, I knew she still loved me as much as I did and still do. I was getting sick of all of this. This night, this whole event, the sugar, Joe, his cronies, this whole building. I’ve lost too much. For all this time I wanted to lose everything, but not now. I only wanted one pony in this entire world to lose it all. Pony Joe.
“Carrot, it’s been fun talking, but my private airship is almost done refueling at top, and I really need to get going. You know how it is, all that flammable gas they have to inject in these private models, takes forever because you have to be so careful, heh.” He said something to the two guards with him that I couldn’t hear through the glass.
“Joe!” I called. He turned his head, barely, but he was listening. “Why was I setup at the train station, I haven’t figured it all out yet.” He laughed behind the glass wall.
“Carrot, oh dear Carrot, you are dense then! Lucky loved money, he needed it too. He was willing to do whatever it took to ensure he got some. He knew you and that Whooves fellow could spell trouble for him, investigating, so he had to do something. You just happened to get away. Nothing personal, just keeping business alive is all.”
“Well friend , nothing personal, but this got personal!” I stood my ground, held a hoof on my holster. Joe simply laughed.
“Farewell old friend, see you later Carrot, on the other side far away from now after I die! Goodbye Carrot!” He laughed, the earth pony following him. This left me and the griffin. He cocked the lever action rifle and grinned cruelly.
“You and me now earthy. You and me!” Griff laughed and walked over to Caesar’s desk. He reached under it and there was a clicking sound, then followed by the grinding roar of engines pulling the glass wall back up into the ceiling. “You and me, time to finish this!” The griffin laughed like an old cartoon villain out of a comic book strip as he lifted himself into the air with his wings. The metal on the rifle glinted in the room’s light.
He flew forward as soon as there room between the floor and window wall, the gun being held flat out in order to catch and push and pin me against the opposite wall. He brought the gun back and made the move to club me with the butt of it, though I managed to move my head aside as the end of it smashed into the wall where my head had formerly been. He apparently didn’t expect the move and become for a second somewhat confused. It was all the time I needed to deliver a kick to his stomach, right under his protective vest. He fell to his side and fired a shot from the floor. It zinged by, hitting the ceiling.
Griff was on the floor, I was standing, in the split seconds that occurred I ran for him, past the bullet. I had a hoof coming at him as he tried to cock the gun for another shot. My force again was surprising, as well as my accuracy. The blow came hard to the left side of his head, and his head spun back to the ground, his neck snapping the progress. The griffin was dead, and Joe was making it topside. I still had one bullet in Lucky’s gun. One bullet, just for Joe.
I ran the direction Joe went, who left every door he and his guard went through wide open, apparently for the griffin, the two of them sure he’d be victorious over an annoyingly lucky and in over his head baker from little old Ponyville. On my way up top (Which was now stairs in an ever narrowing spiral of rooms upward), I stopped at a balcony to get a view above me at the building. The platform was above me, stretched out over the city, and the airship was there, a large hose visible on the balloon. It was still fueling. Looking down there was another site. At the base of the tower a considerable crowd had gathered. The winter storm coming to an end it seemed everyone wanted to be outside now, though it didn’t take long to notice the abundance of vehicles and ponies was actually that of chariots belonging to the Royal Guard and the like. Shining Armor and his troop. The cavalry had arrived. Who tipped them off I had no idea at the time. But it wasn’t time to think about that, it was time to get to the top and finish this.
Heading up more stairs and a few more doors, there was finally one last door. Beyond this door it ended, the crusade, the night, everything. The final showdown. The final bullet.
I unholstered my weapon and went through past the final point of no return.
The airship was still there but the hoses were retracted. The airship was smaller than the one I was on to get here, shaped differently too. And it was rising into the air. I’ve heard of these kinds. The balloons were kept afloat with flammable gases as Joe had said, the balloons kept their shape with metal beams on the inside unlike the bigger ones which were simply air and gas and had to be inflated every time before initial take off. Not this one; metal struts, flammable gas.
Finally a good idea, finally a connection made. I raised the gun, held the sights level to my eye, aiming right for the balloon, not dead center, bust just off of it a little bit. This was the final shot, and by Celestia, it all had to be educated luck. I think that’s what it would have to be. I wasn’t sure.
I fired the gun, releasing the final bullet, the final exclamation point to everything that happened up to this point.
The bullet dug itself into the balloon’s hide, and somewhere inside found one of those metal struts, and made a small yellow spark.
With a shake, a boom, and blindingly bright white light the balloon became an airborne ball of fire. The flames engulfed the whole balloon, the cabin, everything. He landed back on the platform, only partly though as part of it had flew past it. The hanging weight brought the rest of it down past the platform, down to the ground below. I walked up the edge of the platform and watched it fall, a fiery inferno who had nothing better to do other than make up with the ground. I threw Lucky’s gun down with it, to join the hell fire and the demons it engulfed.
Looking up, Princess Celestia brought on the sunrise, the light reflecting on everything here, washing away the dark menace of the city. It was finally over. Behind me I heard the gathering of Armor’s men.
“Freeze!” “Don’t move, you’re under arrest!” “Canterlot Royal Guard, stand down!”
I understood the sign now, though it only seemed to target me.
A bit closer to Heaven.
Epilogue - A Bit Closer to Heaven
Epilogue
A Bit Closer to Heaven
Being carted out of the building, I found myself face-to-face with Shining Armor. He didn’t seem too happy to see me up close.
“Man, have you given us a run, pal. Quite a chase.” He turned to the guards. “Book him!!” I was carted over to a decorated carriage with the letters CRG scrawled on the side, initials of the Canterlot force. Being put inside, I caught a glimpse of Caesar standing amongst the anxious crowd, looking smug. I had done his dirty work, and he had the grin of a winner. That made two of us. He had ended up tipping them off about the tower most surely. Who else knew what was going on here? Could anyone hear shots from down below, snuggled all warm and tight in their houses, shielded from the storm. He’d see to it now that I’d pass through the justice system, make it out of this alive, and send me back home to Sugar Cube Corner. Back to the friends I had left. I felt in all of this the depression wouldn’t get too much better though, now being forced to become the bearer of bad news for Pinkie on the topic of Rainbow Dash.
Maybe we could be depressed together. Maybe that thought was just being selfish. I didn’t see an ambulances or paramedics nearby carting her out, though I saw a few stretchers with Joe’s thugs from inside the building. Maybe they had carted her out already.
Once inside the carriage, the door slammed shut, sealing me in. Slowly I exhaled, and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like years.
“Authorities have now reported the capture and arrest of fugitive Ponyville police officer and baker Carrot Cake tonight, the arrest taking place at the EAS tower in central Canterlot. However his role as a criminal is now already being questioned, though this line of uncertainty of his affiliations was already questioned earlier tonight with the news of of a drug ring that included another Ponyville police officer in its staff list. It also currently believed that former EAS employee Donut Joe was a victim tonight of a terrible explosion that took his private airship to the ground, killing him and all on board. Evidence is being found however within the EAS Tower that Joe and a number of other current and former employees of EAS were also all part of the drug ring. Further evidence points to Joe being the ringleader of the drug trade. The fall of the trade’s leader however according to Shining Armor is that the drug itself is now also terminated.
“And for weather, the sun is up finally, after being an hour late due to an odd freak storm that as of now still has no plausible explanation. The winter storm has now seemed to disperse on its own without any aid from local weather teams. The cause of the storm is still being looked into, the investigation being primarily lead by Princess Luna, being the ruler of the night, and as such that this storm took place during the nighttime moments. The storm has been reported to have flown over the cities of Manehattan, Canterlot, Hoofington, and Ponyville. We will have more coverage on both stories here later today as more information becomes available. This has been the Late-Night Equestrian News Station. Signing off for now, this, is Lyra Heartstrings.”
“I had a dream of my wife. She was still dead, but it was alright.”
Part I: The Equestrian Dream
Written by
Clonehunter
Prologue: Time’s Irony
It’s funny, ironic maybe, how much life can give you. All the things there are to make you smile, all the things to warm your heart and to let you know there’s someone who loves you out there in the world. How life can give you a family, a beautiful wife, amazing children, the best of friends, everything you could ever want - and then take it all away with from you in a sweep from the arm of fate. It’s a good laugh. Especially when you laugh at the irony. Laugh at how I’m the one that received that swipe, and lost everything.
I’m still told today I used to be the one to make others smile. The one who created that warmth through my work, through my family. I can’t remember him. That image of myself is nothing but a memory of happier times, times that no longer exist, and can never repeat themselves. Time is all we ever have, and at some point we’ll run out.
Part I: The Equestrian Dream
Chapter I:
Homecoming
It started three years ago. I was coming home from a week-long trip. It was a catering job in Hoofington, a big order. Cup had to keep things bolted down at home, and we didn’t want to leave the kids home alone with Pinkie Pie for a week. For most guys, the only thing that needs to be worried about after a week of absence is whether or not your wife knocked up some other stallion or found a new taste. Or at least that’s the first thing they fear. I myself tried to keep that thought off my mind. But there’s always that sneaking suspicion, and from the outside, you can never tell. Sugar Cube Corner looked exactly the same as I had left it. The windows were open, I could smell fresh pies baking in our oven. The town commoners were going about their daily lives. I thought I heard laughter even coming from our humble bakery. The door had the sign turned so that it outwardly read “Closed”. It was a beautiful day out, Pinkie Pie was probably out with her friends. It looked like it was just going to be me, Cup, and the babies, and together we could all relax and catch up, like a family. Live the Equestrian dream.
Unfortunately, some dreams have the habit to become nightmares.
Opening the door, it looked like a small war took place. Funny thing is, one did. Tables and chairs were flipped over and broken, dishes and pastries littered the floor, the dishes in little pieces here and there creating a floor where if you didn’t have hooves or horseshoes on your feet, you had no choice but to cut yourself up if you wanted to walk bye. I went over to the stairs that led upstairs to the hallway and the room we rented out to Pinkie Pie. The handrail on the wall was broken, and the wall it was attached too had deep claw marks raked into it.
Then bursting through the sound barrier, shattering both it and my heart, a sound that for as long as I live, I will never forget. It was the last thing I ever heard from my wife. The last time I’d ever hear her voice. It froze me where I stood; made me light headed and lose my footing and fall against the wall. I needed to find the energy to move, to find her. My legs felt like rubber; I could hardly stand let alone walk. But I forced myself up the stairs. I thought that was the source of the scream. Pinkie’s room.
Pinkie’s room.
I crawled step after step, pushing out the hundreds of mental images that crowded my mind. What would I find? The scream I heard was a death throe, and so the images of violence forced their way into my mind, and I could barely keep up with them. I reached the top step, and peered over the edge into Pinkie’s room-- finding nothing. The room was empty, in fact, it was untouched as I recall. I struggled back down the steps to the hallway, and noticed signs of struggle heading down the hall to our bedroom. I found energy somehow, and began to pick up a gallop down the hall. My hooves clopping against the wood floor, the sound resounded down the hall, alerting a presence hidden behind a door, a door that to this day I keep closed. He sprung from it, wild eyed and streaked with blood and dripping in sweat. I skidded to a stop as this demon stared at me from down the hall. It wasn’t another Pony, no, it stood on two legs. It was one of those digger dogs, a gem eating dirt hound. He wasn’t wearing anything other than a tattered green shirt and he had some sort of blade gripped in his paw. He shouted something unintelligible and drunkenly ran towards me, an internal fire lighting up his eyes. It was almost by instinct that I spun around, lifted up my back hooves, and thrust them outward at the attacker, striking him full in the chest and throwing him back down the hall on his back. I didn’t realize what I had done until I heard him thump against the ground and grunt in pain. I turned back to face him, but saw that he wasn’t a threat anymore. His blade had spun into the air with that kick and had found its place in his chest.
At first I started to pass by the room he had come from, but doubled back when I remembered what room that was. I guess you could say that that whole day is something I’ll never forget or put behind me. My children were still in their crib, and on the floor, and on the changing table, and everywhere else too. Both of them. The two things that had brought me and my wife as much happiness as we could ever want. It felt like a steel bat bludgeoned me over the head, and I found myself again on the floor. I broke into a cold sweat. I didn’t know what to do, what to think, or anything. I stumbled backwards out of the room and pointed myself back to our bedroom. I stumbled towards it, everything looked clouded like as if it was shrouded in a foggy haze. Reaching the door with a speed I didn’t remember picking up, I slammed through it, breaking it off of its hinges and splintering the edges.
Another dog looked up in surprise and terror, his eyes wide and crazed like the last. I only got a quick glimpse of his expression though, as soon I was again frozen in place. He was holding a gun . Guns were rare weapons, first created by Griffins, that were almost outlawed on several occasions due to the fact that the majority of Equestria’s populace were Ponies, and since Ponies didn’t have the fingers that were used to get through the trigger guard and pull, we Ponies naturally couldn’t use them. But almost everything else could, and that’s where the fear came from. Luckily, the gun was never turned on me and in his surprise the dog shot a Unicorn standing in front of him, who wore a tattered green shirt like the first dog. Realizing his mistake the dog dropped the gun and backed away, his eyes still crazed in some sort of fear. Then without warning he fell on his back, coughed, and died.
Slowly I came to my senses, and even more slowly, in a trance almost, approached the bed. Blood dripped down the sides of the quilt and onto the floor. One of her fore-hooves hung limply off the side of the bed. A breeze came in from a smashed window, pushing the limb gently from side to side. Her eyes and mouth were both open in a frozen scream of horror. She was laying on her back, three dark red craters in her stomach. I crawled onto the bed and caressed her body, holding it close to mine. It was still warm, but I could feel it cooling. I held her head to mine and kissed her forehead. I stayed there for long time, holding my wife, stupidly hoping she would begin to breath again. She never did, and I cried.
Chapter II:
Train Station
Three years have passed since then. In that three years, the murder was reported all over Equestria, and then some. Everyone heard of it. Violence like this was unprecedented. Princess Celestia had her guard force in Canterlot, and Manehattan shared some of that too. Ponyville didn’t have its own security force or law enforcement group. But with this sudden, brutal incident, it seemed the populace woke up finally, and realized they were going to need something. With help from the existing security and law enforcement groups in Canterlot and Manehattan, we were able to create a police force in Ponyville, comprised mostly of volunteers. Everyone took shifts, turns and what not. Some of us were paid. Some of us didn’t want to be paid. It was kind of like a neighborhood watch system. I decided to join for a time, and as the years passed, I started looking at the mounting number of cases that weren’t able to be solved. Basically, if they couldn’t figure it out, they’d send it to me to file away and let it collect dust. Technically, my family’s murder is considered to be one of these cases. Everyone involved is believed to be dead, but there wasn’t any motive as far as anyone could see. The killers who were there were also all found to have no relation to each other, and no past history. Even the two dogs weren’t found to have any connections to each other. It seemed completely random. They didn’t know what to make of my claims about their apparent mental order. They all seemed completely insane, and not just because they were killing babies and wives, but just looking at them, it was clear something was wrong with the killers themselves.
So three years later there I was, trying to piece things together. I filed the cases that came in when I wasn’t working at Sugar Cube Corner. And everyday, I looked over my case, seeing if I could figure it out. Every once in awhile something new would come in that looked like a link. For example, we found out that the green shirts the killers had were like those sold to private corporations for use on test subjects. So the killers were test subjects, but test subjects for what? Working for whom? Later I found something else out. Some sort of drug. After the murder, crime rates suddenly went up, in all kinds of ways. Maybe not because everyone thought you could go ahead and commit crimes now, but because the eyes of many were opened, and now they finally saw what they were living in, and noticed the unnoticed crimes around them. Drug trafficking was a small time thing though. In fact, almost no one did it. There wasn’t anything useful to traffic. But now there might’ve been. Maybe there was before. There were only small reports. No one knew anything about it.
I was finishing up work at the Corner, getting ready to go out and file some more. There wasn’t a lot of work, and they even told me I didn’t need to come in every day. But I did anyways. I wanted to check on my case. But when I arrived, I was given something new to do.
The only real full time member of the force was the chief, Keylocker. He was born into a family of security and protection. His father was once a royal guard to Princess Celestia herself. Keylocker ran the show here in Ponyville. He was the big boss. We always got our orders from him, even though I never expected to get any myself. I wasn’t sure why.
He stood up from his desk when I walked through the door. We kept most of our operations in the Town Hall.
“Carrot,” he called. “I want you to do something useful.” The stocky light-brown stallion came around his desk and got in front of me. “I know you want get back down to USC, but I want your help on this.” He seemed tired, like he had been up all night. I noticed an empty bottle of imported cider on his desk. It was lying on its side next to an empty glass.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I cringed every time I heard myself speak after those three years. The murders changed me. I was sullen, my voice deeper and darker. I remember when it was higher, more light-hearted, a little more nasally than now. I was completely different. I remember this little white and orange hat I used to always wear for work or anything else I did that Cup gave me in the early years of our marriage. I keep it locked away now.
“We got an anonymous tip that something is going to be arriving at the train station in a few hours. I want you to go and intercept it. It’s something for those mobsters out in Manehattan and Canterlot.” The command seemed simple enough. He was troubled though, uneasy. Mobster business I assumed. We’ve only ever had scattered reports on them too. They were well organized crime, but we didn’t know who had them in the reigns.
“Wouldn’t someone else already be there, like the guys it’s intended for? What is it?”
“Noteworthy thinks it’s that drug that we’ve heard about before. We sent a few others down there already. They found the guys it was for and took ‘em in. I want you to pose as one of them and wait. They told us that the guy with the package isn’t looking for any specific face, but some sort of badge. They all got them, these badges. Identification between them. We got a badge, and a nice brown coat for you at the station. Wear that.” It was simple enough. Pose as a criminal, and wait for another criminal to give you something criminal.
“Alright well... Fine, okay, I’ll do it.” My voice cracked a little. I was finally doing something. Who knows, maybe there would be some tiny chance that I could find an answer to the questions I’ve been asking for too long. Or better yet, maybe I’ll die. Maybe I’ll be with my family again, wherever they are. That was always a hope for me nowadays.
“Oh, and another thing,” Keylocker called out as I was heading out. “Some letter for you. It has your address on it, but it got sent here by mistake.” He gestured towards a scroll on a desk behind him. I broke the seal on it and unrolled the paper.
The letter was from an old friend in Canterlot, a really old friend. His name was Pony Joe, or well, that’s what they called him. His actual full name was Donut Joe. He owned a doughnut shop that he ran by himself. A great baker, and he was once involved in some project that had to do with creating healthier baking ingredients. Cup I know did a little work for that too, heck, I was originally hired for it. The letter was odd if anything, well, not really, but, it was telling me to meet him at the train station I was already heading out too. He was coming here for some reason, for a visit I guess. Why would he come to say hi, when he never came or wrote or anything when my wife died.
I turned to Keylocker and asked, “Where is the train coming from?”
“It’s coming out of Manehattan, or so we’ve heard.” Well, whatever the reason, I had two reasons to go now. So again I headed for the door. “Good luck,” Keylocker called as the door shut behind me. I muttered a ‘thanks’, but I doubt he heard it.
I walked directly to the station. I thought about stopping by the bakery, to check on Pinkie, but I decided against it. If I died, she’d inherit the place. That was all there was to that. It was hitting winter now, and it was bitter cold out. Snow was beginning to set in. A few fillies were playing near a well, ignoring the biting breeze, laughing and scuttling around the ground, chasing a small ball. They looked happy. Like a thousand times before, the sight of the laughing children made me think of my own, and what they could’ve been and what they could’ve done. If only life wasn’t so cruel. The world was a dangerous place, but it used to be that we were afraid of were the monsters in the forests, the beasts and dragons. But it seemed like now the things we had to worry about were our own neighbors.
When I arrived at the station blue colt Noteworthy Blues was waiting for me. He gave me the jacket. It was light, and didn’t offer much protection from the cold. It was light brown, sort of resembled a shortened trench coat. The badge was a small silver star with another much smaller star inset into the bigger one. The colt opened a side door for me and I walked into the building.
“We’ve cleared most of it out already,” the earth pony said. “You might just see a few attendees here and there. Only other guy from the force here is Whooves. Look for him if you can.” That brought me up a little. Dr. Whooves was a clock-smith who stuck with me after my wife’s murder. They were friends, and after she died, he warmed up to me a bit. I guess he’s now the closest thing to a good friend I have at the moment, as I’ve pushed most everyone else away due to depression and self-pity on my part. Like me, he also volunteered to work part time at the force.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “I’ll keep an eye out for him.” Entering the building, I went and walked through the corridors of the building. The halls were crisp, cool. Was there no heat in this building? Eventually I found myself in a hallway that headed towards the loading platform. But as I reached the door, voices could be heard. At first, I thought they were just workers, or maybe it was Whooves. Cautiously I peered around the door. You never could be too careful. I could hear them about now, and I could see that neither one of them was Whooves, and I doubted they were workers. They were both unicorns, one was brown with a red mane and tail. The other was all gray and rather sullen looking. The gray one was wearing a pin.
“Where’s the train? I’m a tired of waiting. Wasn’t it supposed to be a here twenty minutes ago?” the gray one spat. “I mean, where is it? These cops almost screwed us a bit by a removing our others guys. Thanksfully we had us nearby keeping an eye out for things. And, them others you know.”
“Calm down Cotton,” the other said. The other spoke with much better grammar. “The train will arrive when it arrives. We just gotta keep an eye out for any cops or guards. Brimstone told me he was going back because he thought he saw one doing some heavy snooping. Maybe he’ll kill the guy.” I could only guess that the cop he was talking about was Whooves.
“Yah yah, sures,” Cotton smirked. “I just want this train here right about a now.” I tried to lean closer, get a better look at them. The one called Cotton was wearing a hat and looked a bit on edge. I tried to step forward a little bit more, but that turned out to be foolish. I lost my balance and fell against the door. They heard it, and their horns glowed bright colors. I saw glowing objects remove themselves from their jackets, and realized in horror that they were guns.
“Who the hay is that? Get him! Cotton-- fire!” That night I found out magic could be used to operate a gun. Getting to my feet and I escaped the hail of bullets by running back down the hall behind me. I heard more shouts to follow me. I ran through the halls and corridors of the station, desperately looking for a way out, trying to find the way I had come from. But I couldn’t find an exit; I was lost. I felt some sort of gratitude then. I could see my family again if they got me. There was always that hope.
A door opened to my right and a dog came out of it with a wooden bat. He turned my direction with a surprised look on his face. We were pretty close to each other. In some sort of instinct, I flipped around and reared up my legs, bucking him hard in the face. I heard a muffled scream and I turned back around in time to see him slide back across the room. He groaned and tried to get up, but he only managed to fall back down, unconscious. I heard shouts coming my way, and I jolted back past the room, nabbing the bat up in my mouth. I kept running through the station, looking for a way out. I was was wondering if I’d find Dr. Whooves.
I came across another door that was slightly ajar and started to go past it when I heard something, a distinct and familiar voice that I heard only moments before.
“Why do I a feel yous hiding something?” The voice was from the unicorn, Cotton. Somehow he got ahead of me, or did I get turned around in the maze of hallways?
“Please, can’t you just, um, leave me alone?” I didn’t recognize that voice.
“You telling me you haven’t seen anyone else?”
“No, I swear! I’ve been working in here all day, I don’t know what’s going on! Who are you? What do you want?”
“Whatever. You are not a worth it.” I heard the metal click of the hammer on a gun, and at that moment, out of some sort of impulse, some sort of drive to preserve a life I guess, I jumped into the room, bat swinging. I had quick glimpse at Cotton’s surprised face as the bat came across the side of his head. He lost control of his gun and it fell to the floor, the bat putting a halt on his magic output. I raised the bat up, and he started to say something, but he never finished, as the bat came crashing back down on his head. After several more heaves the bat broke over Cotton’s skull, half of the bat splintering away. Panting heavily, I dropped the bat down and slid back towards the door in a daze.
“Holy--” The attendant Cotton was threatening was an Earth Pony, like me. He looked down at the body, and then back up at me, and then back down again. After a few minutes, he stuttered some sort of thanks and ran off, picking the gun up and taking it with him. That was fine by me, I couldn’t use one anyways without magic or fingers. Then again, the attendant couldn’t either. Maybe he just felt that he would be safer with it.
I sat there for a little longer, looking at the body. All this time I had been looking for killers, and here I was now, a killer myself. But then again, if I didn’t do anything, Cotton would’ve shot the attendant, heck, he would’ve tried to kill me too. Is that what justified killing is? I wouldn’t think so. Killing is killing, plain and simple, right?
“Cotton, hey Cotton! Where’d you go?” I heard the clacking of horseshoes coming down the hall. “C’mon, I heard that the train is almost here. They might beat the weather!” The train. For a moment I had forgotten about the train. Whatever Keylocker wanted was on there, and Joe too according to the letter. I thought about what train cars I would search first. I supposed that any contraband would be in the caboose perhaps, hidden from other passengers.
I needed to get out of here before the other unicorn got here. I couldn’t burst out of the door; he’d see me and he’d shoot me. There was no other exit in the room. I could hide, but where? There was a wood table with stacks of paper on it. I couldn’t fit up on that. There was nothing I could move quick enough, or make the move look natural. The broken handle of the bat was still on the floor. The splintered end was sharp, dangerous. At first I rejected the idea. The fresh body haunted me. I had never taken a life before, and I had never intended to take a life, except my own maybe. But I didn’t have much choice here.
I bent my neck over and bit the end of the bat handle. I took it and hid the best I could behind the door and and waited. The sound of steps was getting closer.
“Darn it Cotton. Are you even here?” I heard him stomp a hoof and mutter, “Maybe I should try somewhere else.” There was a pause in this sound of his movements, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to come any further, that he was going to turn and look somewhere else. But there was something I hadn’t accounted for. Cotton’s head wounds were bleeding out, the wounds that were created from the bludgeoning he received from the bat. The blood ran in a thin stream towards the door. There was nothing I could do to stop it in time. It had gone unnoticed for too long. “Well, I guess he isn’t... What the hay?” There was sudden burst of hooves clopping on the wood floor as he came rushing towards the blood.
I jumped out from behind the door and turned my body so that I was facing the door and running out of it. The unicorn was there, the same startled expression on his face that was on Cotton’s and the dog’s. I swung the broken bat at him, driving the sharp end into his eye. There was short scream that was cut off as I stuffed it further into his head. I dropped him, and sprinted off down the direction I thought he had come from.
I didn’t feel anything towards the second kill, I just kept running. Something was going on here, the place was starting to swarm with these thugs. I felt like I needed to find Whooves, now. I thought I was on my way back to the platform when I met up with another familiar face. He was coming out of an adjacent hall when I slammed into him, lost in my thoughts.
“Hey, watch where your go-- Carrot?” It was a gray colt named Lucky. He worked full time at the station, taking time off only to grow his gardens of assorted green plants, primarily different types of clovers or small bonsai trees.
“Lucky? What are you doing here?” I asked him. He looked a bit dazed and surprised still, but he managed to clear his head.
“Working. What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you? Keylocker sent me here to collect some sort of contraband from an incoming train. He thinks it’s that drug.” He eyed me suspiciously, looking down at my coat and pin. “Dr. Whooves is here too, and Noteworthy...” I trailed off as he gave me another look at the mention of the blue colt’s name.
“I just got here, Noteworthy is dead. Why do you have that badge? What’s going on here?” I wasn’t sure where he was going at first. He didn’t seem to know anything about what was going on here. And Noteworthy, dead? I didn’t like how this was starting to look. I noticed Lucky’s holster wrapped around his torso. Ponies couldn’t use guns because of the safeguard rings which were there in case a weapon ever fell on the trigger. Lucky managed to get one without the ring, and with a strap on it so he could hold it, and shoot it, with ease. I assumed it was custom made, probably ordered right from the Griffin manufacturers.
“Noteworthy? Dead?” My voice cracked as I said it.
“Carrot, where’s Whooves?” He stepped back a bit. Something felt off. I couldn’t quite place it. But something was wrong. “Cake, you tell me right now--” His voice became demanding, loud, “--what’s going on here.” His ears flattened back and he took a menacing pose.
“Lucky, I was--was given this to wear. I was supposed to pretend to be one of them, but it didn’t work. And I have no clue where Whooves is. I’m being chased! These thugs are everywhere!”
“What thugs?” Something was definitely wrong here.
“Here, I’ll show you, follow me!” I turned and galloped down the hall, back towards the thug that were killed moments earlier. I reached the door, turned, and found myself alone. He didn’t follow. At first I thought he was still on his way, somewhere behind me and that I just rushed off to quick. But he never came. I thought of going back, but then I decided to find another way back to the platform. I was now desperately hoping that I’d run into Whooves now. I managed to find a way back to the platform again. There was a single occupant, a griffin. But moments later, coming from another door, was a female pegasus.
“The train still isn’t here?” There was an aggravated sigh.
“Lamp Heart, there you are,” the griffin turned from the edge of the platform. “I have news for everyone. Train isn’t coming anymore. It halted down the tracks.”
“Why?”
“The weather got in the way. Though I heard the boss doesn’t mind too much. Heck if I know.” The weather? I didn’t understand, not then anyways. It was getting bad, but bad enough to stop a train? It didn’t sound natural. But I wanted to get out of here really bad. I heard another door slam open and I heard padded feet on the wood.
“Guys, guys!” a scratchy, nasally voice frantically called out from outside my view. “Some yellow earthy, running ‘round here mad! He’s dressed like one of us. Mashed my face in! He got Cotton and Bright Star!” There was some whimpering. “It’s bloody man, plain gruesome.”
“Shoot, we have company,” Heart said. “If the train isn’t coming, let's get moving.”
“Right,” replied the griffin. “Lets find the train down-track quick before conditions get any worse.”
The dog started to whine after them, telling them not to go. “He got two of our best guys! Hey Garth, you armed?”
“Yah, I’m armed you mutt.” I heard them walk off, but I made a careful peek around the corner of the wall to make sure the platform was empty. When I was satisfied I walked onto the wood and looked over the edge at the tracks, looking down both ways. The tracks disappeared into the snowy darkness in both directions.
“What’s going on here?” I muttered softly to myself. Something was happening, and I wasn’t able to figure it out. I turned to go back through the station. The last events were confusing. Was Noteworthy really dead? Why did Lucky not know what was going on here? Where was Dr. Whooves, and why haven’t I found him yet? Some of these questions I was wanted to find out would be answered sooner rather than later. Question was, would I be ready for the answers, or would I be better off without them? Not like it really mattered though. Those answers were on a collision course with me, and were completely unavoidable.
Chapter III:
The Boiling Point
The train station had become quiet. Most of the firefly lamps were off, the bugs asleep. The electric lamps were off too; the lamps went off abruptly as if something cut the power. No sound of heating appliances, the building was becoming cold. I was on edge, fearful of where the thugs might be hiding, waiting for some sort of prey. The cold was biting, I don’t remember a winter this cold. Icy knives were stabbing through my fur. Doors must’ve been open everywhere, and windows too. It was one of those moments where I wished I was one of those stockier stallions, thicker coat, bigger muscles, all of that. That keeps you warm. This jacket didn’t do much for me either. It was cold.
I eventually found myself heading down stairs, to the lower parts of the station. I was hoping there would be a way out, but it was just storage. I went back up, through more doors, aimlessly wandering, when I came upon a metal gate that controlled the masses from getting to the platform when they weren’t allowed too. I vaguely remembered passing through it before. It was closed now, and it couldn’t be opened. This was probably how I’d get back to the entrance. The gates were electrically controlled, and if there wasn’t power, these things were firm shut. Still, I tried to push it open anyways, until the sound of hoof-steps could be heard approaching from the other side. I was going to try and make a break for it, thinking it was a thug, when yet another familiar face turned the corner.
“Carrot, is that you?” he exclaimed. Finally, after what must’ve been an hour, I found him, Doctor Whooves, the time pony.
“Whooves! It--I’ve been looking for you,” I said.
“And it looks like you found me.” Whooves stood there on the other side of the gate, smiling. I always regarded the light coffee colored colt one of the best on our makeshift force. “Something big is going on here, something huge, you won’t believe it. Do know what’s on that train coming?”
“The train isn’t coming. I heard some of those thugs talking about it, and they said it stopped way down the tracks. I don’t get it. Did you know Lucky was here?” He searched my face with a bit of confusion.
“Lucky? I didn’t know he was here, or was even going to be here, and the train isn’t coming? Shoot!” He stomped a hoof on the ground in frustration. “That’s just perfect,” he growled. “I find something out, and now it might be useless tonight.” He looked up in thought. “Well, it’s still important, but...”
“Um, what did you find out?” He gave me a curious look, then smiled.
“You’ve heard some of those stories right? About some sort of drug or something spreading through Equestria?” I nodded my head. I had heard about them. I didn’t know too much about them though. Keylocker kept talking about them. “Well guess what, and you might find this amusing, it’s sugar.”
“Sugar?”
“Yes, sugar, one for baking according to the files I found. I found a crate being guarded by some of those thugs. I was able to distract them and then managed to check it out. Loaded with white paper packets and some folders filled with files. Apparently, it was created a few years back as research. Some project about trying to find healthier sugars for food that weren’t like those fake sugars, or something. I don’t entirely understand the project. It was real, but healthy, I guess. Better than natural sugars. Sound familiar?” It did, and for once, I thought I had a clear shot at mystery being solved. Cup had gone to something like that, a research program. Those who worked with food were being pulled from all around Equestria. I was actually supposed to go, but an accident had it so Cup went instead. I told Whooves this, even though he already knew some of it. “Right, and anyways, according to the files, something in the sugar, a small mismatched ingredient caused the entire thing to backfire.
“The sugar caused a huge need for it in the subjects who tested it. They became insanely addicted by it, crazed by it, and they couldn’t get enough. The sugar somehow gets itself into their bloodstream and up to their brain, so now they believe they need it, just absolutely need it. And the thing is, they continued testing with it. They wanted to see how far it could go. Long story short, they eventually did develop a biological need for it and they found that they needed bigger and bigger doses as time went on. Finally they just stopped giving them the substance, and the subjects died after a while. Dangerously addictive, the sugar. The report didn’t say much else, but if that sugar I found is the report sugar, well, it looks like it’s a market now, even though the report says they ended the project there and went home.” I thought it over.
“So in other words, it’s a drug?”
“Pretty much. I think it was that trains cargo. Someone is trafficking it, I’m guessing these guys around the station here tonight.” He paced around a bit behind the bars with a slight frown. “I wanna know now though, why it isn’t coming anymore. Also, I would like to know where it’s coming from, the sugar. It sounds like production stopped and the project cancelled after the accident, but someone decided to keep making it and sell it even. The train was coming from Manehattan.”
I thought back to those years of the project. It was supposed to be a three week trip, but it ended up lasting a month and a half. I received a letter a few days after the intended end of the trip telling me what was going on. All it said was that more time was needed, she was sorry for any problems that this extension may cause, and she said Pony Joe was there too, something I already knew about. We both had been talking about the trip for a week before it was too happen. With the extension on the trip, I had figured they were making a breakthrough. Some breakthrough it turned out to be. Several dead test subjects and a vile sugar-drug that was death incarnate.
The murderers, I remember them being crazed, insane. I started to think there was a connection. So I decided to ask, “Is there any mention on how the patients acted or looked after they took the drug, or sugar?” Whooves thought for a moment.
He shrugged and said “It only said they developed a mass addiction to it. That was it really. Why?” I was hoping he’d make the connection himself, but then he wasn’t there, so he hadn’t seen what I had seen, and words could only go so far to describe something. Sometimes you just had to be there to understand.
“Oh, well... Never mind.” I sulked back a bit. I’d figure it out myself.
“Anyways, Carrot, look around your side of the gate. These are electric I think, so see if there’s a panel or something.” He started to explore his side of the gate, looking for some sort of control panel or circuit box to get gate power. I looked on my side, but couldn’t find anything.
“There’s not anything over here from what I can tell,” I reported. “Anything over there?”
He grunted. “No, nothing over here.” He stomped a hoof in frustration. “Well, maybe I can find a way around--Hey, do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Listen, I thought I heard someone coming.” He walked back and turned his head around the corner. From there I saw his eyes widen and his pupils shrink to tiny black marbles. There was a bright flash from around the corner and the thunderous sound of gunfire resounded around the bare walls. I saw Whooves stumble back, his face splattered with blood. He stumbled a bit, then shuffled towards the gate and fell forward. A red crater was centered on his forehead, his eyes stared up at me from the ground. Then suddenly there was shouting, another crack, and the sound of hooves running away. There was another scuttle of hooves on the concrete floor and the first familiar face rounded the corner.
“Holy--Carrot?!” It was Lucky, the last colt I wanted to see. Something was off earlier, and now this made things worse. He looked at me, and then at the body of Whooves, and then back up at me again, his eyes wide. “What did you do?” There was alarm in his voice, but there was an odd ring to it. I couldn’t quite place it at the time. Still, his accusation set me back.
“W-wait what? I-I didn’t do anything!” I stammered, slowly backing up.
“Stop where you are Cake! Don’t move! What happened here?” He glared and shouted at me from the other side of the gate, standing behind Whoove’s body.
“I-I don’t know! I think he was shot!” I looked at the body, the bloody crater in his head. He was shot. “I heard running, coming from where you came from!”
“My way? Only guy running this way was a terrified janitor, a mare. Ponies don’t carry guns, we can’t shoot them! And that shot was me dropping my gun! It discharged!” I glanced at the revolver strapped to his belt. Would that be irony? But I could see what he was getting at. It was suddenly clear. Slowly I backed away from Lucky. “Hey, where are you going?” I continued to step back. My back hoof hit something and it clattered across the floor. I turned to look at what I had hit.
It was a revolver.
“What--What the heck is that? Is that a gun?” I saw his hoof go for his belt. He slipped it through the band on his gun and drew it from his belt.
“No, I didn’t kill--” He shot at me mid-sentence. It missed, the bars of the gate throwing his aim off. I wasn’t going to wait for him to try again. I darted off the way I had come, galloping at full speed down the hall. I took a left turn as another crack of gunshot burst after me.
It was a setup, it had to be. I couldn’t understand it. Why? Did Lucky killed Whooves? Why? What was going on? I didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on.
I was nearing the platform. The cold air gripped me, stabbing at me through my coat and trying to get through my fur and to my skin. But I didn’t feel any of it. I took no notice of the iciness of this winter night. My blood was boiling. Boiling from fear, anger, adrenaline.
I stopped at the edge of the platform and looked both ways down the tracks. Sheets of snow fell from the skies, killing visibility in the dark night, the only light being a small firefly lit lamp at the left end of the platform. I could barely see the tracks, but I knew what way went to Canterlot, and what direction went to a number of other cities, mainly Manehattan. The train was coming from Manehattan, and it was stopped on the tracks somewhere. The griffin said it was the storm.
Then I remembered Joe’s letter. He lived and worked in Canterlot. I thought about heading his direction. He said to meet him here. I don’t think any other trains came by, and I haven’t found him here yet. I glanced over my jacket and the pin on it. Maybe he was coming from Manehattan, in fact with that letter, he had to be.
I jumped off the platform and headed towards the great concrete city, walking down the tracks through the dark and snow. A glance behind me only showed me the faint glow of the lamp at the platform. It was all I could see of the station. I continued down the tracks, the wind and snow whipping around me, blinding me, freezing me, deafening me; as I continued the sound of someone angrily shouting my name blew in from behind.
I ignored it and continued through the snow.
