A grey-coated unicorn mare sat on a cushion, her red mane hanging past her shoulders. It was unkempt, giving her a feral look. Her azure eyes stared blankly at a series of papers before her, all of which had words messily scrawled on them as they lay on the table in a pile. A single candle that was alight had been placed at the far corner, barely illuminating the scene.
“So many ideas…” she mumbled, sighing contently. “It’ll be fun executing them.” She paused, closing her eyes as a small smile made itself known on her face. “Only problem’s finding out what goes where, but that’s a minor obstacle.”
There had been so many ideas scrawled on those papers to work with that if they were transcribed upon a list, it may as well have been neverending. Her mind drifted elsewhere, closed eyes scrunching tight as the memory of a most peculiar book came to mind.
She read through that book, front to back, through thick and thin. Its title eluded her, but she knew it had been written by one Prince Blueblood. She chuckled to herself, the idea of a prince—one who was spoiled rotten at that—actually taking time to do something that required effort amusing her just a bit. The book was awful.
It had a fine idea behind it, though, which was why she had been drawn to it. A minotaur traversing the seven seas, plundering the land, gaining more crewmates, and other such shenanigans a pirate captain would partake in.
Who wouldn’t love a pirate story every now and again?
The thing was, the story had more plot holes than a changeling’s legs, atrocious formatting, and since it was written by Blueblood of all ponies, had very little research done on the subject, if any at all.
The horrors simply didn't end there.
What made it worse was that she was one of the few who hated that story. One of the very few. Heck, she was the first to criticize it upon finishing the book.
And where did that get her? Blueblood sullied her name with vicious rumors and other things of the sort. The very few other critics of the work had the same thing happen to them.
So those few, the red-maned unicorn included, formed a group. One that was small, at first. But it grew—it grew like a crazed cult of literature.
The sound of hooves hitting the dark floor broke her from her thoughts, and she turned to its source. A grey pegasus with unusual blue markings and a black mane stared at her with baby blue eyes.
“Hey, Unique,” she said calmly.
“Hey, Flora,” Unique replied, flashing her a grin. “Ready to get back at Blueblood?”
“Any day I am,” Flora replied, a twinkle in her eyes. “What’s the plan?”
“Well, we make a book about him. It will be vague on the physical details, but the rest is up to you,” Unique replied.
“Ah. I assume I must work my magic?” Flora asked, cocking a brow.
“You’re one of the wizards here,” Unique answered, nodding his head.
Flora smiled darkly. “I think I can work that out,” she said.
“Excellent. Make sure to come in twenty minutes, the group’s got another meeting,” Unique stated, quickly trotting into the darkness of the room. The unicorn had assumed he went out, likely to attend this meeting. She turned to the papers again, horn lighting up as her magic sifted through them to find something suitable for this grand and momentous event of revenge.
At last, she found something. She rose up on all fours, still clutching the mess of papers in her magic, and she went into the darkness after blowing the candle out.
“What is the meaning of this trash!?” Blueblood yelled, throwing a book he’d just finished reading against the wall. He stormed towards a nearby butler and got up right into his face. “Who made that atrocity!?” he barked.
“It was made by a group of anonymous authors, milord,” the butler replied, eyes wide and sweat dotting his face.
“Send a guard! Have them thrown in the dungeons!” Blueblood yodeled, eyes narrowing low. “That book had the nerve of being horrible!”
“That book actually got very good ratings from the locals. It’s on par if not even more popular than yours, milord,” the butler replied, beginning to shake.
Blueblood turned around, trotting away. “You’ve no idea!” he complained. “It disregarded everything I’ve written in favor of more slime-filled ideals!”
“Sire, I’ve read that book and enjoyed it.” the butler replied, sighing.
“And you recommended it to me because of that?” the prince asked, turning around to face the butler again.
“Yes,” the butler answered with a nod of his head.
“Next time, don’t give me such rubbish!” Blueblood hissed, walking out of the room.
The butler went to the discarded book and picked it up. The title, “The Embodiment of Greed,” was certainly eye-catching. It had a fancy font, and the cover art detailed a shadowed pony with glowing eyes approaching a pile of gold and riches. Said cover art was clearly done by skilled hooves. “Why did he not like this excellent work?” the butler whispered, opening the book and reading through its hefty three-hundred seventy-two pages from start to finish.
By the time he was done, the prince came back. “Why are you reading that awful book once more?!” he barked.
“Well, milord, I was trying to assess what 'slime-filled ideals' that were penned in these pages made you flip,” the butler replied coolly, glancing towards a nearby list he compiled whilst reading. “Perhaps we could find the group of authors and ask them to mold it to your liking.”
“You said they were anonymous!” Blueblood pointed out, waving a hoof dismissively.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t find them,” the butler countered. “Considering their anonymity, however, it would certainly be much harder to detect them,” he added.
“You do raise a valid point,” Blueblood relented, sighing. “But still, go out and find them. Traverse the whole nation if you must—I want to see them in person,” he said.
“Very well, milord,” the butler replied with a nod, making his way out of the room.
Days passed since then, and the days turned into weeks, yet nothing turned up. Astonishingly, the book that was supposedly published by ‘a group of anonymous ponies’ had gotten far more positive reception than anyone could’ve ever known; even that which was written by Blueblood himself paled in comparison. This only angered the prince, since his book was popular before this rubbish came into existence.
Something gnawed at him: why were ponies reading that book which somehow out-shined his? What made them like it much more than his own work? And just where was the group of authors hiding?
He didn’t know, and he never got the answer. In time, his own book got more critics; far more than he could ever sully. His reputation as an author was tarnished, and the book he hated so much was given five stars, a skyrocketing amount of praise, and even other authors decided to use the universe established in “The Embodiment of Greed” to create their own spin-offs.
And, somewhere in the still of night, Flora was laughing triumphantly.
Author's Note
Finished! :D
Rainbow (Alicorn) Factory, Part I (Gore, Crossover, Alt Universe, Dark)
Author's Note
Once again, only pony belonging to me is Foxfire. This bit was actually inspired by the following picture:
Yeah, but I went and bent logic a little bit. I'm that nuts. Basically, this could qualify as its own story, but I felt the need to put it here instead. Of course, alt universe is still in play for this short story. Part two may or may not come soon.
Eder belongs to Eder the cool kid, Midnight belongs to MidnightRain, Shadow belongs to RainbowLightin, Wind Waker belongs to TheatreCritic, and so on.
Rainbow (Alicorn) Factory, Part I (Gore, Crossover, Alt Universe, Dark)
A group of ponies, bound in shackles, trudged through a series of metallic hallways tinted eerie red thanks to overhead lights. Screams echoed all around them, yet the sources could not be detected thanks to the walls not having a glass window or anything of the sort. Some had faces hard and cold as stone, others smiled as the sound hit their ears, and more still cringed in fear.
A door opened, and the group was herded into a single cell by a pegasus in a lab coat wielding a stun baton. “Get in the blasted cell, you good-for-nothing freaks!” he shouted, eyes of silver narrowed low.
“But I’m Celestia’s son!” cried one of the shackled ponies, blood red coat and black mane being prominent alongside horn and bat-like wings, complete with knife cutie mark.
“It’s what they all say!” hissed the pegasus, approaching the alicorn who made the absurd claim, “All except for one!” He readied the stun baton, hitting the stallion across the face with it. The alicorn stumbled and tripped over his chains, landing in the cell with the more cooperative ponies of the bunch.
“Who is ‘the one’ who didn’t tell you that?!” asked another, blue pelt with starry navy mane and eyes of turquoise. She too was shoved into the cell thanks to the baton.
“Ain’t saying anything else, you misfits!” replied the pegasus, eyes narrowing lower. He was about to squint them closed, in fact.
Soon, the others were corralled into the cell, and their door was slammed shut. The sound of hooves retreating down the same hall they came from echoed beyond, and the ponies paused for a few moments. The cell was also tinged in crimson, and the screams around them continued. The sources were never detected, and after a moment, one cry ceased only to be replaced by another within seconds.
“What’s... what’s going on?” asked the mare with a starry mane, shaking and causing fragments of long-since-torn wings to shift slightly.
“Dunno,” replied the one who claimed he was Celestia’s son. He shrugged.
“I love these screams,” stated a third, black body and matching mane. Her eyes were silver with cat-like pupils, and her three horns, wings, and hooves were emanating some kind of shadowy mist. “I almost want to know how the ponies causing them are being tortured.”
“You’re sick,” protested a fourth, glaring at the shadowy mare. This one had a pelt of red, mane and eyes of black. On his head was a red hat that had a white circle with the letter M in said white. His cutie mark was the letter E.
“Well, I heard you nearly got a dragon killed and stole a filly’s scooter. Hypocrite,” spat the shadowy mare, grinning at the black-eyed alicorn.
The stallion winced.
“Why were we dragged here?” asked a fifth, red with black stripes and silver mane. He had a broken horn, and equally crippled wings.
“I’ve no idea. But I sure as hell am enjoying the screams around us,” answered the shadowy mare.
“Maybe we’ll find out soon,” stated a sixth, burnt red with black mane. Unlike the others, he lacked a horn, and had a sword of blue for a cutie mark.
“Who knows?” shrugged a seventh, white pelt with white mane and streaks of gold. He had golden eyes.
A sinister laughter filled the air for a moment, very feminine in tone. The cell shook for another moment and shifted before it slowly began moving downward.
“... An elevator?” inquired the white alicorn. “Curious.”
“Most certainly,” the shadowy mare agreed with a nod. Ribbons of light passed as they descended down to who knows where.
“So, who’re you guys?” asked the one with the hat. ”My name’s Eder.”
“Midnight,” answered the white stallion.
“Shadow,” stated the shadowy mare, as if it weren’t obvious enough.
“Broken Moon,” replied the navy mare.
“Wind Waker,” said the sole pegasus.
“Silver Lining,” started the one with the stripes on his body. “Don’t ask.”
“Holy Knife,” sighed the one who made the claim of he himself being Celestia’s son.
The elevator continued to descend. Another sinister laugh hit the ears of the seven ponies as it stopped suddenly, and the door opened.
“My lord…” Eder started, eyes going wide and jaw dropping open as he turned to what was beyond the elevator's open doors. The faces of the others, save Shadow, had twisted into the same expression. Hanging on a table well away from them above some kind of strange device was a pony, this one black with red mane. A syringe was pulling out all of his blood, which had inexplicably turned rainbow in hue. His wings and horn, if any had been present prior, were sawed off. As he was drained, life left his crimson eyes until they glazed over and his head drooped.
The machine released him, as if it were spitting him out of its metallic mouth. Silence hung in the air for a moment as the group hesitantly left the elevator.
“And there goes Meadowgraze. Man, his boasts amused me,” spoke a voice, feminine in tone. The owner still had yet to be seen, though.
“Eh, they’re sending more in,” started a masculine voice, faint traces of a German accent prominent. “The new arrivals should be here soon.”
“Lance has a point. Besides, we’ve yet to hear of everything the other Sues have to offer,” spoke another masculine voice, this one having a teenage Asian accent.
“I suppose you’re right,” replied the feminine voice. “Could you send for Ai? She’s the one who makes the checking rounds.”
“Will do, Foxfire,” replied the Asian-accented voice.
Eder blinked. “Foxfire?” he murmured, arching a brow as the word bounced in his skull. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Who is this Lance?” inquired Midnight, brow also arched.
“And Ai?” asked Moon, cringing again. As if on cue, she looked down a long hallway leading to a railway cutting all off from the mysterious device, and just turning to her and the others was a shadowed mare that was at the end of this hall.
The shadowed mare quickly galloped to them, a boat paddle floating next to her in a crimson aura as she drew closer. Her features quickly became more discernible, she had a straight mane black as night, the bangs hanging an inch above her ruby red eyes. Her coat was almost as dark as her mane, and she skid to a halt with her body angled, so her cutie mark was seen: an old version of a ferryboat, complete with a paddle. Her horn was glowing, and her face betrayed no emotion, which only served to make her unusually creepy.
“Follow me,” the mare beckoned with an ethereal echo in her voice, waving her boat paddle as if it were a weapon.
Shadow walked to the mare, smiling wickedly. “You can’t do anything,” she taunted.
This earned her a quick slap across the face with the paddle, this one sending her onto the metal floor in that moment. “I said follow me,” the mare repeated, her brow twitching in a way it looked like it would furrow any second. Behind her, a white alicorn with a black mane that had streaks of rainbow (as well as pink) was drained of her blood, the wings and horn brutally sawed off by the machine. Her lion tail, the tuft of fur rainbow, was also removed and discarded. Her sea green eyes faded into a dull and glossy look much like the pony before her, and she too was tossed away.
Eder walked up to the paddle-wielding menace before him. “How about no?” he asked.
In an instant, the paddle connected with his face and knocked him down as it had done Shadow. “Follow me,” the mare repeated once more, brow beginning to furrow ever so slightly.
“L-Let’s just do w-what she says…” Moon murmured, cringing. The elevator doors closed, then opened at breakneck speed behind the group, and behind them stood three unicorns. One stallion had a grey pelt and black mane shadowing his left eye like he was emo or something, eyes of green blinking. The second stallion had a burnt brown pelt, eyes closed and wrinkles present on the face. His hooves were charred black, and he had no mane or tail at all. The third, a mare with black mane held in chopsticks and blue pelt, smiled. Her brown eyes glinted.
“Do we have to herd you?” asked the grey stallion, his voice soothing yet somehow menacing all at once. Those who were still standing turned to him.
“Look, we don’t like doing this one bit,” started the charred stallion, shaking his head. “But it’s for the good of Equestria. You guys need to be cleaned out.”
“Look at her!” Midnight protested, pointing a hoof accusingly at the paddle-weiler. “She’s like us!”
“No, she isn’t,” replied the blue unicorn mare, shaking her head as a hoof connected with her face. “You’re all perfect wannabes, and she’s frankly quite the opposite of that. Just do what she tells you before her emotions show any more—she looks irate right now.”
Midnight backed away, his legs trembling. Eder and Shadow scrambled to their hooves, and the group slowly approached the mare as she turned around and led them down the hallway, slinging the boat paddle over her back should she need it again.
“That’s more like it,” she mumbled under her breath, resuming her mask of emotionless-ness as the group approached the end of the hallway after a trot that seemed to last forever. She took a right, and the alicorns and pegasus followed, the unicorns behind them trotting along as if making sure not one of them would try breaking away. Since they had horncaps and wing shackles in case of non-broken appropriate appendages, the chances of that happening were slim to none.
But that sure as hell didn’t mean they wouldn’t try—Wind Waker tried to dart past the blue unicorn and grey stallion, only to be pinned in place by green and brown magical auras.
“You’re pushing it,” scorned the blue mare.
“And that’ll make your death ten times as worse,” added the grey stallion.
“You’ll never stop me!” Wind protested, struggling to no avail.
“Oh? Hadn’t I killed you already?” asked a feminine voice, causing the alicorns and pegasus to look up at a pony behind a railing on a raised platform. Well, more like three more ponies. One was a stallion who had a light green coat; his mane which shadowed the right side of his face, his eyes, and his wings were a rich emerald in color. The second, burnt orange with dark red eyes and mane, smiled wickedly. He wore an SS Officer uniform, wings of copper with steel joints spread wide and a gunblade slung over his back.
The third, a mare, was the most prominent of the bunch. Her legs were black and furry, the rest of her coat red with a grey muzzle, underbelly, and hooves. Her wings were grey and black, dark red mane hanging messily past her shoulders. A grey horn with a black tip was on her forehead, and a red tail swished back and forth to reveal a grey tip. Her eyes, azure and soul-piercing, glared at the group of alicorns and the pegasus who tried to run away.
Eder glared at the alicorn, the image of her taking a hit of a red-colored beam flashing in his mind. “You…!” he started, face molding to shape an agitated look.
“It seems you remember our last raffle,” the mare spoke, chuckling to herself. Her black ears twitched slightly.
“But you’re like me!” Eder protested, stomping a hoof.
“In some ways, I can’t deny that,” the mare replied, now smiling. “In other ways, nada. I wonder how you came back from the dead unscathed, since I remember making you nothing short of a pile of ashes.”
“Foxfire!” Eder called as the mare began to turn away. “We’re your brothers and sisters! Why are you killing us!?”
Foxfire laughed, not bothering to look at him another time. “Brothers and sisters? Dear sir, we’re not siblings—what kind of crack are you smoking?” she taunted.
“Shall I load him into the machine?” asked the green pegasus.
Foxfire waved a hoof dismissively. “Be my guest, Nagare, be my guest,” she replied.
The green pegasus spread his wings and flew towards Eder, grabbing him by the chains and hoisting him up with surprising ease. Eder responded with a swift kick of a hind leg, his aim holding true: Nagare shrieked in pain, letting the alicorn go, landing harshly whilst holding his crotch with his front hooves.
And then Eder was hit upside the back of the head with the boat paddle, the wood shattering on impact from how hard he was hit. The alicorn grew dizzy for one moment, then collapsed the next. He had passed out and fell into the darkness.
