A Canterlot Stall

Three years from that fateful birthday he spent in Canterlot, Caramel found himself back in the capital for another stay through the winter. Granted, Caramel wasn't hitting up the city due to low funds and sweet deals if one knew where to look. 'Mostly legal' is the term that Caramel kept looking for these days. He himself would be doing something completely illegal for the sake of what... Making that sick fuck, Shining Armor suffer?

Was it even worth it?

Caramel was mostly content with his life. He was a professional temp, offering his services to the farming towns like Ponyville and Appleloosa from early spring to late fall, raking in the easy bits. Caramel had no home. No security. No life insurance and none of the stress that came with keeping all of that junk up. He saved his money, lived cheap and when winter came, he'd always had a pool of bits to keep him going until spring came. Well... Not this time... He'd be living shitty after he got through this thing of his.

The earth pony paused in the rolling of the white and plastic sheets he was spreading out across the rotting wooden floor. Eerily noticing his nail gun wasted two nails before he turned it off and abruptly dropped the gun from his mouth. His torture room was complete outside a few more layers of plastic that would soften the feel of the floor. Caramel was sick and tired of splinters he got in his hooves when he first started cleaning out the place.

Some part of him thought he should have went with carpet but he wisely remembered the potential of carpet burns and leaving any more evidence than necessary. He was crossing into the line of pure illegal. There was no what if Armor wasn't going to tell anyone. It was a matter how far could he make it across the country before a set of Royal Guards kicked down the door.

A large white mattress sat to the side and Caramel was still considering whether if he'd actually have a need to use it. But for the most part, the center of attraction was the stall. The stall where Armor... Ah, that wasn't important. That stall was where he'd take his revenge and clean his head of the green, green, green.

The stall was simple. It was small. A bleached blue on all sides with a little broken door. Of course, the stall didn't have slots at the bottom to provide an escape and in the back of the stall, there were hooks and pulleys to hold a stallion of Armor's weight and size. There was even a empty toilet to complete the feel of the bathroom. Caramel rubbed his hoof against the stall's door, reveling on the feel and proof that he's...

A fucking psycho, that's what.

With all this money he spent, couldn't he have made his way to a therapist? Or paid some gangster to frame Armor and get his sorry ass put in jail. Then getting him acquainted with the term, 'don't drop the soap'? There was no need to put himself in risk like this. Not for...

Caramel sighed and stepped into the fake bathroom, checking that he had the pulleys installed tightly into the back wall and the strength of the ropes. Everything passed his mental checklist. He was ready and all he needed was Shining Armor's disgusting flank.

According to his plans, the entire operation would take four hours. A hour procuring Armor, a half hour of tying Armor up, another half to have Armor stewing in his own mess and an hour actually torturing. There were plenty of things that could go wrong in the time frame. What if he underestimated Armor's training as a Royal Guard? Caramel would only have the element of surprise on his side. What if the cocktail of drugs he planned to force Armor to drink didn't work? What if he overestimated his training and Armor made light work of him?

What if Armor finished what he left off...

Caramel left the stall. Picked up his gun and resumed pushing the new layer across the floor and nailing it down in rows. Everything was fine. His planning was fine. All he needed was the resolve to see things through and to trust how he spent his money. Bits don't lie, don't abuse, don't brainwash, don't trick and won't ever let him down. How could it? It's just coins made of coppers and silvers.

Ponies were different. Shinning Armor was different.

And was it wrong for Caramel to engrave a memory into Shinning Armor's head just like he did to Caramel?

No.

Not at all.

Shining Armor, Canterlot's Rising Star and a shame of a stallion, liked to drink his coffees with cream and two cubes of sugar. Four days a week, Armor stayed at the guard dormitories at Canterlot Castle. The other two and a half days, he often spent time at his parents' house and following his close friends, Rust Mark and Steel Hilt for fun at their favorite bar, Laurels'. On the few times he indulged in having a mare friend, he prefers mature, lanky types but spends equal time pursuing friendly and playful mares.

If he's dating, nobody knows but the word on the dorms is that he's chasing after Celestia's niece, the obscure and often forgotten, Mi Amore Mi Cadenza. On what little information Caramel has on her, he can only assume that she's of the former type and doesn't care about the particulars of their relationship. What matters to him is to find a perfect time to snatch Armor without anyone getting suspicious about the four hour absence.

Caramel found an opening when he noticed that Armor lied to his friends on one particular get together at Laurels'. And made arrangements of his vacation days to focus around a up-coming three day weekend at the academy with his own parents are heading away for trip. The only one who would notice would be the girlfriend and Caramel could allow that loose end to hang.

Armor disappeared for the three days. Then came back to his family home on the fourth extra day off he's set up with his trainers. He lingered around his house before heading to the bar, Laurels'.

That's where Caramel will make his move.