Blade

Mrs. Powell burst into her orphanage, startling any of the children playing in the hallway. She glared at any of them that were still smiling until they changed their mind. Afterward, she made her way upstairs without a word.

When she arrived in her bedroom, she quickly undressed herself and plopped down onto her mattress with a new cigarette in one hoof and her lighter in the other. She joined the two and sucked the orange side until the white tip glowed. Smoke gushed into her lungs, only to be sent back out after a moment of silence.

“My blue asshole, search warrant.” She grumbled.

As she took another drag she stared up at the popcorn ceiling and thought about how it used to remind her of her aunt’s house. Now all it reminded her of was her pansy ex-husband; how he would kiss her neck after sex and say he loved her. Bullshit. He wouldn’t have done what he did if he loved her. She may have gotten the last laugh in the end, what with getting possession over the orphanage in the divorce, but that didn’t change the fact that he betrayed her. Mrs. Powell rolled over in anger, turning her eyes away from the ceiling and trying to focus on the present.

But that wasn’t much better either, now that the police were coming back to the orphanage. What evidence could there possibly be? She destroyed everything that orange little shit stain had, so she didn’t figure they’d walk out with anything useful. But if one of the kids got brave and told the cops something like they did last time, they’d throw the whole damn book at her.

That’s what had gotten her so riled up; knowing that there could be one little bastard who’d have the gall to squeal, just like last time.

But that was back when the kids were still used to Will’s way. It was entirely possible that she’d beaten the last bit of courage out of them since. But the possibility was still there.

She couldn’t let it happen.

Mrs. Powell stood up and flicked her smoke into the trash bin next to her vanity mirror before she left the room and went back downstairs.

When she got to the bottom, she shouted.

“Kids! Kids, get in here right now!!! All of you!!!”

Like dogs being called to food, all of the children came flooding into the main hall and positioned themselves in an orderly line. Not one of them had a smile on their faces.

After counting them silently, Mrs. Powell began to speak.

“Kids.”

They remained silent and alert.

“I have a couple of friends from the police department coming over in a few days.” She said in an eerily gentle voice. “And they’re going to help me find out what happened to our friend Scootaloo, okay?”

The children did not break eye contact with her. Some refused to blink. Some were sweating.

“Now you all know I care about you, right?” She continued sweetly.

The children nodded stiffly.

“And that’s what the police are going to think also. Isn’t that right?”

The children nodded again.

Mrs. Powell smiled at them.

“Good.”

Her smile faded.

“Rumble?”

The small grey colt flinched at the mention of his name. His heart began to race and his eyes bulged out of their sockets. The other fillies turned their heads to him, all looking just as shocked. There were a few seconds of nothing but the sound in his blood pumping in his ears before he built up the courage to reply.

“Y-..y-yes, Mrs. Powell?”

“Are you going to even think about last week’s mistake when the police are here?”

“N-nn-n-“

“Are you?” She hissed.

“N-n-no, mam. I promise.”

“Oh, thank goodness! I was afraid I was going to have to fry your little eyes on the kitchen stove, sweetie!” She chuckled evilly.

One of the younger fillies gasped involuntarily as she said this. Mrs. Powell promptly picked up a wooden toy carriage from the floor and threw it right at her head. The filly yelped and hit the floor. Her soft whimpering echoed through the building momentarily. The next sound that filled the house was Mrs. Powell trotting slowly back up stairs.

The children didn’t disperse until at least twenty seconds after she had left their sight.

It was not uncommon in Equestria for ponies to change their names once they got their cutie marks. The new name was called a "fatunym", which was chosen to represent the mare's newly confirmed strong suit. When Lilly got her cutie mark, she donned her own fatunym; "Limestone" Pie.

Pinkamena never changed her name. She hated her cutie mark. She hated herself. She didn't have the self-esteem to bother.

And of course Ariel never got one, for obvious reasons.

Now, this is only noteworthy to mention due to the fact that Limestone was in town and looking for her dear sister, Pinkamena. It had been a good five years or so since she'd last seen her (or communicated at all for that matter) and she'd figured it was time to pay a visit.

Now when she entered the town, she gagged a little. Despite living on a farm her entire life, she somehow maintained her arrogance when she looked at the quaint little village.

“Oh my god” She sneered in faux awe. “Leave it to my clever little sister to run away to here, of all places”.

Pinkamena’s father had given up the reigns of the rock farm as of recently and given them to Limestone. Limestone had done the farm some good for once in twenty years, they actually had some business and a potential investor, and within the first few months if that wasn’t enough. With the money, Limestone had improved the old house, purchased newer and better equipment, and bought a car.

And not just anybody owned a car. You knew you had it going when you owned a car. Limestone had gotten an earlier model, but it was still a car. Maybe this is where her sense of superiority came from, but that was entirely debatable given several other factors that aren’t even worth getting into.

She had parked her car just outside town square and wandered in when she gagged. She looked around and saw all of the shabby stands and carts, with obviously poor patrons and owners all wallowing together in their rural cesspool.

One particular stallion caught her eye however. He was a huge boy, bigger than her definitely, and he was manning an apple stand with a weak smile across his face. She walked up to him with confidence and looked at him directly when she spoke.

“Excuse me?” She said flatly.

The stallion turned to face her.

“Eyup.” He replied.

“I’m looking for my sister and I was hoping you’d seen her.”

“Not sure, miss. I see a lot of ponies around here. Not so much recently though. I think everyone’s scared.”

Limestone tilted her head, puzzled. What could there be to be scared about in a place like this, other than being unsuccessful?

“And why do you think that is?” She inquired, curious.

The stallion chuckled a little under his breath. “I know ya ain’t from around here, cause you ain’t got the look about ya”.

Limestone felt relieved to know she didn’t look like anybody else in that horrible town.

“But you’d have to live under a rock not to know about what done happened right here in town square not a week ago.” The stallion finished.

“Well, I am a rock farmer.” She snickered lightly.

The red stallion let out a fair laugh after she finished.

“That’s pretty funny, miss.”

“No, actually. I really am.” She said, suddenly serious.

“Oh…” He replied awkwardly.

“You say something happened here?” She asked, still surprised. She doubted it would make the news if this town fell through a fissure in the earth.

“Some Diamond Dog shot this place up. Killed a couple people.”

“Goodness!” Limestone gasped.

Limestone looked around in a minor panic. Shoulder to shoulder, eyes shooting back and forth for anything grey and big.

“Those filthy Stone Mutts live here!?” She cried, disgusted.

“Heck no.” Big Mac shot back, just as shocked. “They live up in the local quarry over there.” He explained, motioning toward the mountain behind her.

Limestone sighed loudly, relieved again. “Thank god. I can’t believe you haven’t evicted those awful barbarians yet. You definitely have a just reason now.”

“Nope.” He said. “The one who shot up the square is dead as dirt. His head got blown clean off by some lady.”

“Eeww..” Limestone moaned, no longer wanting to be touching the ground. “What does that have to do with anything? You’ve still got a reason to set fire to their… mud pits, or whatever they live in.”

“See, now that’s the deal-breaker right there.” He answered. “Ya see, she wouldn’t have no gun if she hadn’t bought it from them marketers in the quarry. And them marketers wouldn’t have given it to her if they were gonna shoot up the town any time soon.”

Limestone scoffed. “Still, I need to find my sister.” She explained. “She has pink hair, pink coat… pink everything really. Maybe a messy mane, down over her eye?”

“Eyup.” He reacted positively. “I see her all the time. She’s real friendly but real quiet.”

The stallion pointed up toward the Everwhite. “She usually comes from that direction, but I have no idea where she lives. Can’t be much up there I reckon, though.”

“Thanks, errr…” Limestone waited.

“Ian McArthur Apple, but my granny calls me Big McIntosh.”

“Yes. Thank you…Ian.” She said.

Then she headed toward the bridge and crossed into the woods for the first and last time.