The Black Rose

Allow me to tell you a story from one who has no voice.

My name is Roseluck and while most of you know me as a simple florist, I am so much more. I live my life very simply but I am probably the wealthiest mare outside of the princesses in all of Equestria, thanks to my profession that is. Is being a florist such a lucrative profession you may ask? Buck no! That's just my day job, and thanks to my associate Daisy is a legitimate one but it is still just a front for my real career.

Equestria's most wanted, and renown assassin, The Black Rose.

No one has heard my voice since I was eleven, not because I refuse to talk but because I cut my own vocal cords at that age to save my own life from the stallions that killed my mother and father. I spent the next five years training to make sure that I was never that scared again. At fourteen I killed the first of my families murderers. That is the story I wish to tell you here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My uncle Filthy Rich is one of only two that know my real identity, he should know he helped train me. Thousands of ponies take Martial arts every year, but not everyone takes them from former black ops guards. I was not taught to “defend myself” as most students are, no, I was taught to brutalize my opponents in such a way that they never desired to be touched by me an any foreseeable future.

“These are my legs and I want them strong” growled Moon Strike, as he once again twisted me quite deftly into a pretzel.

I nod, going into my usual punishment for failing to take him down, one hundred push ups while standing on my forelegs.

He gently stopped me, something he had never done before “not today” he said simply. He made a gesture to follow him to a makeshift table in our camp in the Everfree. On it I saw a file and a small makeup kit next to it.

“Are you ready to take your first step to avenge your family?” He asked as he opened the kit and started to apply makeup to my young face. At my nod, he began telling me about the file.

“That is a dossier detailing a stallion named Luck Stroke, known murderer and thief, what is less known is that he is a violent foal fiddler targeting fillies about your age. Captain Rich and I believe he is the one who was searching the house for you for exactly that reason.” Lieutenant Strike said applying the last of the makeup and showing me in a mirror that I now looked years younger than my fourteen years.

“ He will try to get you to come with him, and he will try to rape you. He may even succeed, are you prepared for that?” I hesitantly nod again knowing that any other answer will lose my chance at this bastard.

I pick up the quill I kept nearby and wrote a small note on my pad, “Will I have any help if he does succeed?”

“No, This is your kill, we will be standing by should it get too out of hoof and he tries to kill you, but otherwise this is your first paid job.”

I once again nod and signing in the thieves cant that I was taught to communicate in “Is there any certain way the client wants the job done?”

“Garrotte which it will be your job to hide on your body” I nod beginning to think about where I could secret a length of piano wire on my body and not have it be out of place only coming to one conclusion.

As the sun began its decent I finished studying the file and having already chosen and hidden my weapon I wandered into Ponyville going to the town center and taking in the view around me. A small farming village ostensibly run by the Apple family who had strong business ties with my Uncle Rich, it was beautiful in its own way though I never took any joy in it. I sat down in the park and began my ploy as soon as my mark came into view. Weeping silently with just grunts coming from my throat drew the plot holes attention, instead of some decent pony, and he trotted up to me with a gleam in his eyes.

“Did you lose your mama little one? Come with me and we will get you warmed up and call the guard to help.” he said with so much sincerity in his voice that if I had not read his file an hour earlier I would not have believed that this was the same stallion.

I nod nervously studying my mark closely, tan fur with a yellow mane, cutie mark of a pool cue and eight-ball on his flank. Yes this was the bastard that I had been sent for. My nervous shakes only adding to the effect of the little lost filly act, I followed him to a small ramshackle house not two doors down from the local guard barracks.

As he set me on the couch and fixed me a cup of tea he began talking quietly, “I can't believe one actually fell for that” not realizing I could hear him perfectly. He sat next to me and began stroking my back as I continued my weeping, but of course he was so focused on his next conquest that he never realized that not a tear fell.

As his stroking kept getting to more and more risque areas, going near my tail and stroking my dock even once going near my teats he kept up his patter “it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want you to feel better so the guards can help you better” I will admit that my hindquarters felt wet and lamented that this foal fiddler would have been a decent lover if he wasn't such a sicko.

I played along until he flipped me over and growled “Enough games you little slut you're going to get what all sluts need.”

As he forced the first few inches of his stallion hood into me I felt myself stretching to accommodate his size but between my struggling and young age I began to tear. Feeling the blood begin to drip I had a moment of clarity, I was here to kill this son of a mule. Reaching underneath my body as he mounted me I grasped the wire I had taped to my teat to retrieve my garrote which left me with a bit of a problem, where I had hidden the garrote was currently occupied by stallion right up to his medial ring. Removing said weapon would certainly alert him to my intentions, unless...

Yanking swiftly I felt the wire of the garrote contract within me and slice neatly through the thick stallion hood within my depths eliciting a gut wrenching scream from my erstwhile victim, though who can really say who was who's victim at this point. He fell off my haunches with his dick looking like raw hamburger as he scooted to the wall vomiting from the pain that I had just inflicted on him. I stood on my hind legs and strutted over to him with a mixture of our blood dripping from my nether region wrapping the ends of the garrote around my hoof and a gleam not unlike his earlier one in my eyes I slowly wrapped it around his neck and looking into his eyes watched as he struggled to breath around the wire currently cutting his larynx off and his air supply with it.

As the light left his eyes I made a decision, and once I made sure he was really dead. I took the garrote from the meat of his neck, only now realizing that I had nearly decapitated him, and looped it around his hanging blood covered sack. With one great yank using all the strength I had gained through three years of training. I clipped them off and walked out only to be greeted by Lieutenant Strike who threw a cloak over me.

“Nice job Rose, anything I can do to help right now other than getting you to safety?” he asked kinder than any other time he had spoken to me.

Signing helplessly “get it out...”

Author's Note

This story will continue and how she got her moniker will become clear. I assure that this will be the last time I do anything even remotely close to foal-con as I nearly puked writing that scene. Please be kind.