Every Last One
Ponyville looked beautiful. Celestia's sun was directly overhead, casting shadows but only under the trees and eaves of the rooftops. Being noon, the citizens of the town were milling about to catch a bit of food before going about the rest of their business.
Sugar cube corner was busy, a line two deep formed outside the door to catch a morsel of the sweet confectioneries inside. The younger ponies hopping about wildly asking their parents if they could get a cupcake or a doughnut, possibly a slice of carrot or deep forest cake. They couldn't make up their minds, the little motor muzzles running on about the last time they stuffed their faces with the teeth rotting delights.
The market stalls were open, though when closed it was easy to find the ponies elsewhere to strike a deal for something if one would need something. Cherries, apples, carrots, potatoes and all manner of things grown in or on Equestria's fertile soil. Saddlebags were filled and the varying sized gold bits were exchanged for the goods. Lines were not as thick here, as most of the ponies were too busy to cook for themselves, favoring the pre-made food as a quicker alternative.
The Scratch-Pad, Ponyville's musical center. A store run by the two most talented mares in three hundred miles, Vinyl Scratch and Octavia. The patrons were spotty at best, several of the residents browsing through the thick colorful cardboard cases that held black circular disks. These disks were placed under a needle and a brass fluted cone poured out symphonic notes that could even bring Iron Will to tears. Masterfully composed to bring out every emotion possible. Or hoof through some of the 'dirtier' music. The cavity rattling thumps and and sand shifting 'wubs' of Vinyl's new genre of electronically composed music.
Carousel Boutique, as owned by a posh mare named Rarity. This was the place to go if you wanted something custom to wear. Most ponies went around au-natural, donning clothes only for special occasions or a dramatic turn in the weather. She would work at a near tireless pace, hours upon hours of fine tuning to get the apparel to look just right. Even in some of her more vain moments, tossing out a 'disaster piece' because the colors didn't match, or she had used the wrong thread. Mid-summer had only wrought repairs of winter clothes and moth nibbled summer wear as things began to wear out. The flood of customers had stopped, as they deposited their goods in the early morning and returned at dusk to retrieve them.
Golden Oaks library. A grand living tree, hollowed out on the inside to whole the town's wealth of knowledge in literary form. Twilight Sparkle and Spike the dragon both ran and lived inside the massive wooden structure. If anypony would wanted to get lost in the latest Daring Do adventure, brush up on some of the higher tiers of unicorn magic or go deeper inside Equestria's history, this was the place to visit. Ponies were seen streaming in and out of the doors, books weighing down saddle bags or clutched gingerly inside a cloud of magical aura as they left.
Things were humming along inside the quiet little town. The complex inner workings of a large city like Detrot or Las Pegasus had skipped over this cozy little place. Everypony here felt at home with it's slow pace and breathable smooth atmosphere. There were a bounty of friends to be had with the near two thousand residents sprawled across it's houses and outer limits of town. Cider and food were cheap, leaving nopony wanting for the basic needs.
As cheerful as the town seemed, Butter Pecan didn't see it that way anymore. His Carmel colored coat had a splash of pecan brown, as if he faced a wall of mud that stained him. The brown hue covered the front of his muzzle and two front hooves, becoming mottled in spots as it progressed towards his flank. His mane and tail, cut frightfully short just this morning, were the color of a buttery crisp pie crust. He no longer saw the vibrant colors, the laughing became directed towards him. Each smiling face seemed twisted in a joke, and he was the flank of them.
It was several years ago when he had visited a doctor of psychology, Dr. Fetlock. He was spurred to do so from his wife, Mapel Pecan, as the lives of his entire family began to suffer. As with the hustle and bustle of the largest city, Manehattan, with came the stress of a low paying-high output lifestyle.
Seeming endless days inside a dimly lit office had drained him of life, vigor and drive. He would shuffle his hooves in defeat as he took the position in a non-too-comfortable chair and began to sift through papers that eerily began to look the same day after day. When the infinite stack of work had migrated across the desk to the output file, he would head home and collapse on the couch for hours before consuming a cold bland dinner.
Every night he slipped into the covers, warmed by Mapel's body already and spend what seemed like another day's worth of work to finally let a restless sleep fall over him.
It seemed like there was nothing left. Life was passing him by as any interests he had became something of a muddied memory of better times. Butter remembered when he used to take his children to the park or the cinema. He would share a rather romantic dinner over candle light, followed by hours of passion in the bedroom, even if nothing intimate happened, it was still a pleasant feeling of a warm body he loved with all of his heart.
He couldn't remember the last time he had even talked with Mapel. Butter was living inside some sort of surreal world, events of what happened becoming diluted as they filtered in hours after their passing. Mapel was always yelling, about anything end everything, there was no understanding why or what the commotion was about, but it was always his fault. She would scream of events that never happened, places they never went, but she was dead sure that they were real. Her vocal barrage just became another thing to tune out, another daily routine to grind through.
The doctor had recommended they move, not just somewhere else inside the city, but to a new town altogether. Leave Manehattan for good. Mapel yelled at him about that as well, but Butter never heard her, just mentioned that they were going to Ponyville and started packing to leave.
During the entire trip she was yelling, exactly what it was he never knew. Everything had been tuned out, trotting through life in a daze. It even startled him when he saw his family together at the station. The last time he remembered his children were in diapers, now they were nearing their teenaged years. Even time had been tuned out. Celestia! He struggled to recall his age. It took several minutes before he remembered that he was a few months over thirty five, where had the time gone?
The first week in Ponyville was a drastic change. Butter still awoke in the middle of the night, set on taking a stroll through the streets, only to be greeted with something his wife had referred to as a 'hovel of a town'. Very few buildings were over three stories, letting in the sun and moon light into every window at all times.
It felt like that was just yesterday, but it was all ages ago now. He should have felt something different, or anything at all. But there was nothing, the same numbness he felt back in Manehattan. Butter had to struggle to perceive any of his senses, but the world was still dark as he went about his new job.
There wasn't much documentation work to do and was able to successfully put the Mayor's files in order in several weeks. He was at least great at something. Pre-reading, re-writing, revising and comparator work for anything the mayor had was the simplest thing. He had reduced the work load down to half an hour just a single day of the week. Finding himself with ample time, he took on another job, emptying the trash across the town and hauling it to the sorting center for it to be recycled.
Things seemed to be going well, two jobs meant double the income and this satiated Mapel for the time being. But as the record of his life had fallen back in the numb grooves and played out exactly the same as before. Butter was still collapsing on the couch, eating a cold dinner and jumping out of his coat when one of his offspring made themselves known as they were ever changing.
It was true that he brought home the bread, but that was the extent of his interaction with his family. He wanted to do more, to awaken himself to the new place they were in, but he had missed so much that to begin such a thing would have been a monumental task.
It was only now that he gained sense of the gravity of the situation. Waking up to the world he was living in was akin to being in a desert for days only to be dumped into frigid waters when he awoke.
It took a full day for him to notice, only becoming alarmed when there was no cold dinner to eat. Butter ran around the house, seeking out anypony, but several minutes later he realized they were gone. Open drawers, cleaned out cabinets and stripped beds were the only remainder of the other ponies that lived there. He found no note telling as to their where about.
Butter Pecan was found by the local guards, roaming the streets and shouting out for his family in the late hours of the night. He was confused, telling them as best he could about the events and that they were gone. The matter was cleared up in an hour, Mapel had taken their three children and moved into a small house clear on the other side of Ponyville.
Upon seeing her husband flanked by guards, she slammed the door shut, beginning to speak from the other side of the barrier.
"Pray tell, 'husband'-" she sneered, "What might you be doing here, and at this late an hour?"
"You had left, and I was worried about you. I didn't know what had happened to you." he said shakily, not sure what he had done to incur her wrath.
"You? Worried? You have been gallivanting off after work every day doing Celestia knows what."
"I've taken a second job. You know that!" he retorted defensively.
"No you haven't! I happen to know that the collection happens on Mondays. How is it that every day you had been out collecting the trash?"
Butter had to take a pause. He had been working every day, he remembered taking out the trash. Collecting the thick tin bins full of papers, discarded materials, packages who had their contents consumed. The ponies he worked with. 'Tiny' Tin, a massive bulky stallion who always had a stub of a cigar clenched between his teeth. Cherry Stetson, a pegasus mare with a bad attitude, who had an accident in a bar, numbing her taste and smell senses when she tried to breathe a plume of fire. And finally Torque, the mechanic that fixed the carriages and sorting machines. They were all there, he remembered talking with them everyday.
"I don't know what has been going on in your head, but it is not good." her muffled voice came through the door.
"I'm fine, just a little confused."
"You are ALWAYS confused. Your family cannot take that kind of abuse anymore, I cannot take it anymore. Until you have gotten help, I cannot allow you into my house."
"Abuse?" Butter asked, beginning to spiral more and more into a general confusion. He had done nothing but provide support so that his family would always have what they needed, even if he was always absent. He had done it all for them.
The chain lock on the door rattled, followed by two deadbolts clacking loudly. Slowly the door opened, revealing just the face of his wife, Mapel.
Butter was shocked at what he saw. Her upper lip was bloated and the blueish hue leaked from under her coat. Around her right eye was she same colored bruised flesh. It was clear to anypony that she had been beaten, recently as well.
"What happened?" He asked in shock.
"As you have proven my point." Mapel responded.
"Who did this?"
"You did."
The response laid him flat. Butter's rear legs shook for a second and he collapsed onto his flank. He couldn't remember. He knew that this was something that he couldn't ever have done.
"I'd never, I-" the words couldn't come to him. He had begun to simmer in anger, to show the pony that had done this a month inside the hospital. But it all came back around do him, his wife had said that it was his doing.
"You don't remember, you never do. Every night you arrive from work, we argue during dinner. You would raise your hoof, and we all would cringe, taking a hoof step back. We all lived in fear, something that I will not allow under any roof anymore."
"I don't remember... Is there anything I can do? I-"
"You need help Butter. That is the only thing you can do." Mapel voiced.
"Help, like what?"
"Psychiatric help."
"What? Go to a nut house? That's... I won't!" he sputtered.
"Then I am going to have to request that you sign an uncontested absolution of our marriage."
If it wasn't enough that his memory was hazy, the absolution of his marriage was another weight piled upon his shoulders. How had things come to this point? There had to be some pivoting event, some sign, but he had become lost in... Lost in nothingness, just letting the days run together, the nights alseep in bed. It seemed that everything past his foal hood was a blur.
Butter didn't remember walking home, just that he awoke in the morning on his couch. He did however remember the night past. That Mapel was taking everything from him, his wife, his children. Everything he loved and held dear, everything that he had worked so hard for, to provide from them.
He didn't go to work, he didn't do much of anything for the past few days except drink.
Slowly the sorrow and the pain began to twist itself into hatred and malice. She had just begun to take everything from him. He knew that he had to do something to stop it, so that everything he had worked for wouldn't fall down to the ground at his hooves like so much else. He would take it back, take from her and leave his wife with nothing.
Days turned into weeks. It was the first time he could remember them with such clarity. Mapel always was finished with work at the Carousel Boutique at noon and picked up their- his children and took them for lunch at Sugar Cube corner.
Butter had watched for a few days now, this was their routine. The perfect time to take what was his. He watched from a distance, clutching the carved piece of wood in his hooves. The distance from the hill was best observed through the telescopic lense, as he laid belly down on the grass under a tree.
The wind whipped softly through the grass, ruffling the tree above his head that shaded him from the midday sun. He was waiting for the perfect time.
This is what he had been done in his off time. It was true, the trash was collected on Monday, and his work for the mayor was finished on Sunday. It became perfectly clear what he had been doing the rest of the week, now that his craft had been perfected.
In his hooves was the most modern ballistic projectile weapon he could get his hooves on. The thirty inch metal barrel stretched out from the shade of the tree. Inside the tube were thick grooves, only having two hundred shaped lead projectiles down it's throat, it was broken in and at it's peak. Just waiting for the bearer to call it into action and send death to those in it's range. Behind the rolling block sat a brass cartridge, loaded with forty five grains of saltpeter, sulfur and charcoal, ready to propel a a one hundred and ninety grain piece of lead, tin and antimony to it's target.
Butter had the front barrel propped on his back pack to provide stability. Once the tree fell silent he applied a light pressure on the secondary trigger. The hammer fell onto the toggle, snapping the thin barrel that composed the weapons firing pin, driving it into the primer on the cartridge.
Those inside Ponyville were spared the ear ringing thunderous boom the black powder emitted when ignited, but were treated to a whole new horror instead.
The nearly half inch mass passed through the air effortlessly. The hold over for range was perfect, landing the lead in the temple of a mare named Mapel. She never saw what hit her.
The round passed effortlessly through the mare's cranium, separating the the foremost facial features from the rear half of the skull. The impact sent bits of bone, flesh and grey matter into the cracked window, the pieces of the mare following the path of the bullet.
Her body collapsed onto the table, the fatal wound began to leak blood on the red and white checkered table. It took several seconds for the sound wave to reach the ponies scattered about area. They began to stampede for cover from the unknown sound.
The lever on the underside of the weapon was swung forward, spitting out the casing, smoke following it's now empty form. Butter removed another full case and pushed it home into the breach, swinging the lever shut and cocking the hammer. He looked down the telescopic sight again, his now dead wife had been having lunch with the judge, another target to remove from his life.
He sighted in the green pony, who had taken to his wife's corpse, to see if there was anything he could do. Again he held the sights above the target and clicked the priming trigger into place, shortly followed by the clean effortless snap of the secondary trigger.
For the second time a round erupted from the barrel to begin it's course over the clearing and into town. The lead his the judge square in the chest, passing through flesh, the sternum, severed the right and left bronchus from the lungs, passed through the stomach, intestines and exited out just below the rectum. The judge collapsed into a heap on the stone paved patio outside the confectionery establishment. He wasn't dead yet, but the massive internal bleeding would soon work it's course and force him to expire.
The deed was done. He had taken his life back, taken it from his wife and the judge. While the judge wasn't a target he planned to take out, it was a target of opportunity.
Ponyville was now in chaos. The inhabitants began to pile inside doorways and into the buidings. But the rough wooden structures wouldn't protect them from bullets. The only thing that protected them was that he didn't seek their demise. They were safe.
The only thing that was left was to collect his children and leave Ponyville forever, start over a new. Things would be better. He knew they would now that his problems would be removed.
The doctor removed his glasses with the unicorn magic. He set them on the table, on top of the stack of papers he had just read. He let out a long sigh and turned to the pony who had presented the papers to him.
The room in which the two occupants sat was massive, nearly two stories high. The left and right walls were flanked with bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, filled with medical books. The desk in the center rear of the room was in front of a large multi-paned window, overlooking the fenced in ground of the Hospital. On the desk sat a brass placard, the name Dr. Fetlock scribed upon it.
"You wrote this?" doctor Fetlock asked.
"Yes. I did." the pony said. He rubbed his front hooves together in nervousness, seated on the padded chair.
"You know what this means. What we have to do now?" the doctor said, more of a statement than a question.
"Yes." the pony nodded. He knew that there was a reason he was here. "I don't want to hurt her. I don't. She means everything to me, my children as well."
"Then why did you do this, write such a detailed account?" The unicorn asked.
"I needed to. I wanted to hurt her, but I couldn't. In whatever mindset I had when enraged, I tried to keep from hurting her."
"Mr. Pecan. As required by the law, you are going to going to have to stay here at Briar Hoof for two weeks while we perform a psychiatric evaluation." Fetlock pressed his front hooves together, peering over them.
"I understand. I made arrangements with my wife to move back into our house while I am here. I took her advice, and I need help."
"We offer the best of care for our patients. The food is excellent, the rooms are comfortable and the staff is the best of the best. Those we cannot cure are offered the best surroundings possible."
Butter nodded.
"However you have come here of your own volition. You recognized a problem before-" the doctor motioned to the papers "Something happened. I think that this warrants a merit on your behalf."
"What happens now?" Butter asked.
"We take down some information, get a vest for you and I will schedule you for an appointment to talk with me tomorrow."
"No restraints, no drugs?"
"Why, are you feeling all right?"
"No, I just... I just thought that is what nut houses did." Butter stated.
"That was the 'medicine' of a long time ago. We don't do that here unless needed or upon special request. Sometimes patients have a sixth sense as to future events, one of the many complications of dealing with psychiatric problems as well as those of the magical realm." Doctor Fetlock explained.
Butter nodded. A wave of relief washed over him. For so long he had the idea that Equestrian mental health consisted of mind numbing drugs, straitjackets and crumbling facilities where the inhabitants screamed out for a white knight to save them from both the hell they lived in and that of their mind.
"We do not administer medicine unless needed, or to treat violent outbursts." Dr. Fetlock explained.
"I just don't want to be stuck here forever, lost in a haze. I want to see my family again, to live life again. I love them, every last one." There was the tiny indication that tears were forming in the corners of Butter's eyes as his voice trailed off near the end of the sentence.
"You have done nothing to warrant such a thing, and after your first two weeks you may see them on a supervised visit. As I said before, you have merit based on the fact that you have sought help. With time and guidance you will be capable of returning to them a new pony. That I can guarantee." Dr. Fetlock said.
"I would do anything for them, that is why I am here. I don't know what is wrong, but seeing them suffer because of me... I can't let that happen anymore. I have sacrificed so much for them, and it seems that I need to give more."
Butter was a bit more prepared for what was going to happen. Anything he needed to do for his family, as he had done before, he would do without question. For so long had had sacrificed for them and to him, this was just a continuation of his life. To put down what he wanted to do, so that he would be able to provide what they needed.
