Incubus

Manehatten. A gorgeous city with a gorgeous crime rate. How long had it been since she'd seen it's cold and distant streets, where even the lights seemed washed with grey. Too long, the mare noted, tipping her hat down to fight the rain. She waited with her big iron at her hip, alongside the curb for another peddler out at night. The usual one pulled up and peaked at her beneath his carriage roof. He smiled crookedly with the usual cigarette glowing soft tangerine.

"Miss Belle... Good to see you again. You going to the usual place, or...?" The stallion asked, noting the distinct dip in Rarity's brow.

"I'm out for blood, Maxie. Real blood. Tell the chief I'm more straight than a switch. And tell him I need a couple of heaters. They took my sister."

His features didn't change much. Instead, her friend Maximilian only smiled wider. It became an almost twisted smirk of sorts, relishing the intended future. When he saw that familiar, cold glint in her eye, Maximilian waved her in. His one, missing eye revealed itself as he tilted right to speak.

"Welcome back, Miss Belle. We thought you went cold turkey. After the sting orders, you went dead for a month. What did you find...?" He inquired, switching on the old and scratchy radio.

Rarity couldn't find a suitably brief answer. So she kept it simple and held her revolver tightly, sure to pop it in someone by the end of the ride. She squirmed about in her black dress, letting the ballroom aesthetic go well with the gloomy overcast. In her purse was her necessary equipment. Rarity replied when they neared a clearing in the downtown area. As they neared a dead-end near the slums of Harlot, she replied loading her magnum.

"I found out changelings are helping them too." Rarity responded, firing three times into his head.

The chariot swerved and she levitated out, landing gracefully on all fours. A lone crash struck the other two changelings and their driver accomplice. They could've fooled her, she stated over the pouring downfall. Two charged and flung hate magic at her hooves. The shots missed with simple and effortless hoofwork, which she'd learned as a foal in ballet.

"If you didn't turn on the radio, I'd be yours." Rarity hushed, busting their knees open.

Before they could even land, she punched holes in their heads and trotted off toward the abandoned and very lively warehouse down the road. It was only a matter of seconds before she cloaked the bodies as bushes and donned her elegant, golden masque. The unicorn turned her lips up, showing her fangs to the corpses below her. Rarity departed with words no one could forget, her eyes glimmering with sickly green.

"But now... you're all mine."