Malignancy

—Royal Equestrian Post and Telegraph Service—

TO: Sr. Constable Swift Rouncey, 13th Street Constabulary Station
FROM: Sr. Constable Lyra Heartstrings, Dolphin Hotel, Rm 636
SENT: SEP20 988 13:56

"FINALLY ARRIVED IN CITY -(STOP)- MET GOLD ARMOURS NOT YOU AT DOCK -(STOP)- HOPE ALL IS WELL
-(STOP)- PRISONER TRANSFER DONE -(STOP)- TWO DAY LAYOVER IN MANEHATTAN -(STOP)- HOPE WE CAN BOOZE AND BROTHEL THURSDAY NIGHT IF YOU ARE FREE"

Chapter 2, Part 1:
Harvest

Manehattan, Theatre District,
Wednesday Night (September 20th, Anno Domina 988):

"I'm home," Summer groaned, letting the door swing in and bang against the wall. She tromped in and kicked the door closed behind her. Her stomach rumbled as she trudged, limping on her front left leg, into the kitchen. She slid her bags down her wing onto the half of the table free of Gold Leaf's mechanical detritus. "Leafy?" she called. There was no answer.

She checked the fridge where four frosty bottles of juniper beer awaited her. "Oh thank rainbow-shitting goodness," she breathed. Taking one of the bottles of beer and a half empty bottle of salad dressing, she returned to the table and began unpacking her bag. A 'Deluxe Everfree Autumn Salad', wrapped in a flimsy foil to-go tray, greeted her with purple arugula, sweet yellow onions, fresh slices of ripe tomato, crunchy carrots, chewy raisins, refreshing celery, roasted pumpkin seeds and bits of chilled, chopped, colourful, juicy Sweet Apple Acres brand Zap-Apples. Summer inhaled the heady bouquet. It made her eyes swim and her stomach grumble so hard she could feel the vibrations through most of her aching body.

She gripped the bottle of salad dressing with both forehooves and shook. Then she bit down and struggled to undo the cap with her teeth. The bottle was sticky from drops of the lemon-thyme vinaigrette that had dribbled down the neck after each use, which made her hooves gummy and slick. The cap wasn't budging. She jerked her head to the side, trying to wrench the cap loose, and only succeeding in yanking her bandaged foreleg at an odd angle. "Ow!" Releasing the cap from her teeth, her forelegs, which had been pulling down on the bottle, slammed into the table. She screamed and fell over sideways, landing with a meaty thwack and a frantic flapping of feathery wings.

She groaned and sobbed and swore on the floor, cradling her foreleg. She checked that the punctures under the gauze weren't bleeding again. The intern at the clinic had stabbed her with the needle three times before hitting the vein dead-on. And when they began taking her blood it felt as though they were intent on having it all, filling up two large phials before telling her she could unclench her eyes and her teeth – that it was over and she could go have a cookie and a glass of orange juice.

Her stomach protested at the memory of the bland, dry oatmeal cookie and the warm, sticky, pulpy orange juice. "Ow, ow, ow, ow," she moaned, gripping the back of her head with her good forehoof. The fall hadn't done her hunger headache any favours. A new pain in her flank caused her to yelp and roll away from whatever was sticking her. The motion caused her to knock into the table, which in turn caused all four metal legs to screech across the floor and a shower of little metal things – Gold Leaf's screws, flanges and tools – to fall off the table and clatter down to the tiled floor. The sound of something rolling across the table only just had time to register in her mind before it too crashed to the floor, the glass bottle of juniper beer shattering and its contents rushing outward into an expanding puddle. The bottle of salad dressing soon followed. "No! No no no!" It smashed onto the floor and its contents, a slow, viscous blob mixing with the beer.

"Aaaargh!" Summer wailed in frustration, scrambling up onto her two good legs, hopping and flapping for balance, her tail flicking itself dry, splattering juniper beer everywhere. She turned to inspect her stinging flank. It was bleeding. Blood spread through her coat, across her cutie mark and dripped, hot and wet, down her hindleg. She kicked the now wet leg, sending the blood flicking off her, mixing with the spilt beer and dressing. She turned around to see what had cut her, hopping on her one good foreleg and one good hindleg, her wings flapping in furious bursts to keep her upright.

It was one of Gold Leaf's blades. One of the curved, spiral blades that had been custom forged to her exacting specifications for the whirring guts of one of her prototype machines.

One of the blades that she scrubbed, autoclaved and detailed at the end of each tinkering session.

One of the blades that she kept in a padded, locked case which she, in turn, kept locked inside the heavy, metal fire-safe that she hid behind a false wall in her bedroom closet.

The blade was lying on the kitchen floor, wet with blood and beer and something brown and crusted.

Summer straightened her neck and looked around the kitchen, flapping to stop the quick motion from sending her toppling to the floor again. "Leaf?" she called out. "Eu-Euphony?"

There was no answer.

The padded case was sitting open on the counter. The keys were hanging from the case's magic-proofed, cold-iron padlock. The coffee machine was on its side next to the sink, its glass carafe shattered. There were cabinets hanging open, their contents strewn about the counters and floor. There were cracked and broken counter tiles and the stove was dented.

Eyes wide, her salad forgotten, Summer began backing out of the kitchen on all four legs, ignoring the pain in her foreleg and flank, her wings standing straight up, feathers bristling. She held her breath, ears darting about, straining to hear any signs of movement. A shuddering breath forced its way out of her mouth. "Ah!" she yelped as her backside hit the wall by the door to the living room.

Her sides were heaving, her breaths were quick and shallow, cold sweat dripping down her neck under her mane. She tried to swallow. She craned her neck to look into the half-lit living room. The lamp was lying knocked over on the floor, dark.

She turned and crept through the living room toward the front door, trembling, her heart a thundering drum attempting to burst free of her rib-cage.

She reached out a hoof and pulled down on the latch. The front door came open.

There was a pop-flash and the door slammed shut, wrenching her foreleg forward. A heavy hoof, belonging to a huge red stallion, was pressing the door shut. He was wearing a black robe and hood, and towered over Summer, unmoving.

Summer balked, rearing up on her hindlegs and wheeled her forelegs, shrieking and backing away, wings flapping, pushing herself back. The hood was blown back from the unicorn's face, revealing the blue, glowing holes in his head where his eyes should have been.

Pop-flash; another unicorn in a dark robe was standing beside him.

Summer turned and ran. "No-no-no-NO-NO!"

Pop-flash; a third unicorn in black robes blocked her path. She leapt over him, her wings scraping against the ceiling and walls of the hallway. Her hindhoof clipped him in the face and she landed hard, careening into the hallway table and pitching over in a heap. Pop-flash, pop-flash. A unicorn tripped over the table she'd kicked away from herself and, flailing her limbs, Summer managed to struggle into the first open doorway she could reach. She kicked the door closed behind her before she crumbled to the floor, gasping.

She struggled back to her hooves, spun around and strained against a bookshelf, toppling it and blocking the door.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…" She couldn't breathe. Not enough air. Not enough space. Trapped. Closed off. Fly! She needed to get out. Fly! Her wings were flapping and stuttering, her feathers tense and rigid, she couldn't-

"Leaf!" Between the bed and the nightstand, Gold Leaf lay splayed, her hindlegs lit by the puddle of light spilling in from the window. Summer turned on the light. The orange unicorn mare's body was lying where it had been dumped. She was still, pale, her limbs bent at odd angles. Her throat was a raging split of exposed muscle and dried blood, the hollow of her larynx gaping up at Summer. Her eyes were open, milky, unseeing.

There was a bang against the door.

Summer bolted for the floor-to-ceiling window and bucked it with her hindlegs. Spider-web cracks radiated out from her hooves, but the glass held.

Pop-flash. The hulking red stallion was in the room with her. She charged the window a second time, spinning around at the last instant and slamming her hindhooves toward the window just as another pop-flash placed a unicorn between the window and Summer. Her hooves, carrying all the force of her kick and her full body weight, connected with his throat, crushing it. He went flying backwards, shattering the window and shooting straight out into the night and down to the street fifty stories below.

Summer fell to her belly with a bone-jarring thud, skidding toward the edge of the window, wind tearing at her tail and mane. She struggled to get to her hooves, flapping her wings and turning toward the freedom of the open air. Pop-flash. Strong limbs forced her back down, hard, to the floor. A hoof connected with her face. Once, twice, a third time – and there was only blackness.