“Hey, Dickbreath. Wake up.”

A loud bang clacked against the iron bars of a cell, disrupting Mac’s rough sleep. He opened his eyes looking down at his own puddle of drool.

“That’s right. Damn boy, I bet you’re even too wasted to even know how you got in there.” said the disdainful voice. “Charlie, look at this.”

Mac heard the hooves tapping on the ground as he heard another pony walk up to him. He tried to look up to find himself in a jail cell, with Celerity and Siringo watching over him.

“Urgh... Siringo?” He coughed out.

“Who the hell? My name’s Charlie, you fool.”

“Love will live on, whoa-oh!” Another voice sang in the corner the cell Mac was in.

“Wyatt, shut the fuck up with you singing!” Celerity snapped. Mac turned behind him to see Marshal Cornfield rocking back and forth hysterically, singing.

“For you cannot spend your life regretting!” Cornfield continued.

“Macintosh! Do you know what you’ve done?!” Celerity asked, shouting over Cornfield’s singing.

“No?”

“Oh, you sick fuck! Kidnapping innocent ponies and selling them off for money. We know whatever gross shit you and Applejack do.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean.” Mac responded, totally bewildered.

“You must face another day!”

“Do you fuck your sister?!” Celerity questioned. He was sticking his head through the bars now.

“Yes!” Wait, why did he answer that question?

“But do you have anything to do with the trafficking of ponies?!”

“No!”

“Once you’ve loved her, whoa-oh. Now you’ve lost her, whoa-whoa-oh!”

Celerity promptly walked through the cell wall, and proceeded to kick at Mac while he still laid on the ground.

“Stop fucking lying! I have Applejack tied up outside right now, you like me to bend her over the table and fuck her raw in front of your eyes?!”

“After the shadows, the sun will be shining!” Cornfield shrieked, ending his song on a flat note.

“Fuck it, I ain’t gonna mess around no more.” Celerity pulled out his revolver on Mac’s face and fired.

…..

“Mac, come on, wake up!” Siringo implored as shook the sleeping pony.

Mac cracked his eyes open terrified, blindly throwing a punch at the unicorn.

“Ow, you son-of-a-bitch!”

“You should not have woke me up.” He scowled. He bit into his hoof in recoil.

“Well, I thought I should’ve. You were squirming about and groaning for a while, after all.”

Mac swiveled his head around him, he noticed the burnt campfire while they sat by the river. The Marshals were nowhere to be seen.

“Where has Cornfield went?”

“Him and Star thought Cross was starting to feel worse, so they left early to the farm, where it’s hopefully more friendly - if I remember.”

“We’re already close to the farm?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised, too. All that walking’s starting to be a blur now as those days pass by. Anyways, I stayed behind because you didn’t seem to move an inch in whatever slumber you were in.”

“We’ve caught any sign of Sharps ‘n Legerity?”

Siringo gave a quick, confused glance at Mac, wondering why he’s asking so many questions, “I don’t think we did at all. It’s not like they’d keep running away just to conveniently stop where we’d end up.”

“If your shit gun didn’t misfire...”, Mac scoffed.

“Excuse me? We gonna talk about that now?”

“You coulda stopped that. Probably’s your ammo.”

“Bullshit. What makes you such a weapons expert? I happen to get my rounds from Los Pegasus. And I checked just earlier, it will work fine the next time it’s used.”

“You sure they’s called rounds?”

“Wha-? You concluded it was my ammunition, you should know whatever the hell they are called.”

“Sure, I do.”

“Then what do you call them?”

Mac tried to hide a smirk, “Rounds.”

“Okay, that’s you trying to go and get at me, huh? My sides are splitting. Know what, we’re going to get up and get the hell over to the farm now.”

…..

The “farm” stood humbly, just hugging the side of the river along with other small houses and what appeared to be a doctor’s office. A creaking water-mill’s wheel spun in flowing water, next to the farm’s crops. Its crops spread over an exceptional space of land across the river at the feet of the vast mountain. The folk remained to their daily tasks, nonchalant but staying aware of Siringo, specifically.

“I’m starting to feel a bit paranoid here again, so it’s best we go an’ get Cornfield and the others right away.” Siringo said.

The two walked over to the doctor’s office to see Cornfield standing by the door smoking.

“Star in there with him?” The unicorn asked.

“Yup.” Cornfield muffled.

“Well, get him, ‘cause we’re leaving n-”

“Whoa, whoa, stop there.” He urged, interrupting Siringo. “We’re not gonna leave yet.”

“What exactly do you mean, Marshal?”

“Exactly what I just said, we ain’t leaving him until he starts to feel well enough. And no, you two won’t go on without us. I don’t need to say much else.”

“Are you forgetting our mission? According to Mac, it’s pretty important.”

“Geezus, I know. It can wait for a couple more days - to say the least. Now you couple go and find something else to do, as long as you don’t go on.” Cornfield threw his cigarette down and entered the doctor’s office.

Siringo gawked at the Marshal as he closed the door shut. “I’m not going to stay around here, that is for sure. Come on, walk with me, don’t stay with the old stallion.”

“You said he’s just ten years younge-”

“I don’t care,” he sighed. “and I’m serious, come with me. I’ve an idea.”

…..

Mac followed Siringo around the farm, circling buildings for a couple minutes until they stopped in front of a set of posters pinned on a wall. Some were dirty and crumpled, while others seemed straight from the presses.

“Okay...” Siringo observed the posters with a blank stare. “Shit.”

“Huh?”

“You know damn well what.” He looked aside in embarrassment.

“How’d you know your targets around then?”

“I always go to Cornfield himself when I’m done with the other. I-I’ve never bothered to check on these before.”

“The Marshal tells this place the bounties?”

“It might sound like it, but no. Sure, this and Appleloosa might have some of the same ponies, but that’s by coincidence. This farm holds their own bounties around the desert themselves. Anyways, look for one poster that might happen to have the words ‘Parasprite Hollow’ on them.”

“Parasprites?” Mac asked with uncertainty.

“No, no. They don’t have them. Just that the name that it was stuck with. Most nicknames given to any place around the desert is some animal name following by, eh, whatever. Sounds queer as hell, but it’s easy to remember. Now look for one!”

“Where’s that?”

“Parasprite Hollow? It’s across the river then we head north-west a little.”

“What’ll it look like?”

Siringo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Look, it’s just the name the gah-damned place has. So if we keep going and we find someplace that’s not desert, we’re at Parasprite Hollow! Got it?”

“I guess. Still dun know what you’re going for.”

“Since Cornfield is makin’ us stay behind, I figure it probably won’t kill us to sidetrack a little. By hunting down a bounty target.”

“Us?”

“You heard me. After all, I did vow to not leave your side. I’d like the company after all this time being ‘lone. Whaddya say?”

“Sure.” Mac nodded, still doubtful.

“Wunderbar!”

“What?”

“It’s - geezus, I should never explain...” Siringo tapped his hoof on the wall of posters. “Sidetracked again, look for whichever one that has that damned, shitty name.”

Mac scanned the wall for a moment. True to Siringo’s word, many of the posters held the name of a creature followed by some variation of a landform or just a random noun. Examples were Rattlesnake Ridge, Bear Rock and Cockatrice Mound, all printed in gritty font.

Mac raised an eyebrow at the numerous names, somewhat fascinated. “These’ve never been on a map.”

“Well, yes, because ponies like the Marshal don’t have the balls to make it so.” Siringo was sitting back, staring back at the folk. “Found it, yet?”

“Eeyup.” He tugged a piece of paper off the wall.

“Who does the poster speak of?”

“Bad Lee Cobb.”

“Ah, I knew ‘im once. A shame. What is he wanted for?”

“Robbing the stagecoach... of a family in Appleloosa.”

“Anything more to that?”

“Murder of a buffalo.”

“Heh. The sum of those crimes, I guess the reward dead or ee-live is at least three-thousand bits?”

“Three-thousand five hundred.” Mac handed the poster to Siringo to put in his satchel. “You say you knew him.”

“Gotta love those convenient details. And yup. I, uh, seen him once at the plantation. He’s a bit loony. And who knows, I’m saying - and I’m just sayin’ - we might find them with a pony they probably went and bought. Slim chances, though. Don’t keep your hopes up.”

“We goin’ now?”

“I think we’ll have to. I shouldn’t forget the bounty on me while there’s a bunch of angry eyes on me at the same time.”

…..

The two ceased their half-day travel when they reached Parasprite Hollow, which apparently wasn’t the sandy desert, but a transition to a woodland terrain at the foot of the peaking mountain to the north.

Siringo nearly laughed out loud at Mac when he caught sight of the scattered trees. “Looks like not-desert to me. We’re here.” His tone tuned to a more serious mood. “Okay now, this being the first time someone’s tagging along, I’ll just tell ya this since I don’t know what to say: follow my every step and you might not get us killed.”

“That helps.” Mac jeered, pulling out his revolver.

Siringo laid his forehoof on Mac’s gun while he took out his own rifle. “Whoa, I ain’t so sure about that now.”

“What?”

“Until I say so, I’ll be the one to make a shot. In the meantime, you’d better just watch.” he instructed. Siringo began to walk deeper into the forest, keeping his head low to the ground. “These trees spread on for a while, so we might tread on for a few. And hey look, the sun’s almost done setting, maybe we can rely on the night then.”

As dusk progressed into the day, an intensely chilly air began to sweep through the forest. Siringo continued to venture forward comfortably in his coat while Mac shivered with every step.

“You’ve thought once about getting dressed, have ya?” Siringo asked, glancing back. “You’re practically naked right now ‘cept for the hat you’ve been wearing, unless you noticed yourself. Where’d ya get that, anyways? Swear I’ve seen someone else wear that before.”

“Y-yup. Ce-Celerity had it-t.”

Siringo quickly chuckled at Mac’s suffering of the frigidness. “Huh, you stole from ‘im?”

“G-guess so. He t-t-took it from AJ, a-after all.”

“Now that makes it a bit different. Wouldn’t picture a mare wearing a stetson.”

“W-well, it used to b-b’long to Pop.”

“All this shit ya telling me.” Siringo muttered. “Why’d she have it?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. How ‘bout your mother?”

“Dead, too.”

“Oh... shit.”

One of many awkward pauses came into play for another few seconds.

“Uh. Er, what happened to them?”

Mac grimaced at Siringo, but felt obliged to answer no matter what. “N-never knew. Th-they was here one d-day, then g-gone the next. L-like they’s ki-ki-kidnapped. Took a wh-while ‘til we g-got the news.”

Siringo figured out what the puzzle was then quickly pieced it together. “Oh. So...”

“Yes. Th-thanks, Detective S-songbird.”

“I mean that doesn’t sound very ca-”

“‘Scuse me?”

“Sorry. Just got one more thing I wanna ask.”

Mac turned to silence, which answered “yes” to Siringo.

“It’s kinda that, given the problem she’s in, makes me asking it weird but-”

“Nope. No.” Mac interrupted, firmly shaking his head. He was sounding so irked he was ignoring his shivering.

A nearby glow caught Siringo’s attention, but was already occupied in their overdone conversation. “Wha-what? You didn’t let me f-”

Mac started to speak so fast it shocked the both of them. “Ya mean to tell me if it’s okay to f-”

“Shh!” Siringo gestured his forehoof up. The light was now a lone stagecoach alongside several ponies seeming to camp for the night. The two exchanged glances. “Let’s circle around a bit to get a good view.”

…..

They spent several minutes stalking around the ponies, seeking for any hint of Bad Lee Cobb. An obvious, red box of dynamite sitting on the stagecoach drew Siringo’s curiosity while Mac was still infuriated by their prior conversation.

Once they returned to their starting point, they both laid on their stomachs facing the unsuspecting campers.

“I’ll shoot that box.” Siringo suggested, getting his rifle ready.

“Sure he’s there?”

“Well, he’s wanted for stealing a stagecoach and - it said he was reported to be goin’ here, right?”

“Yup.”

“So that removes some wrong answers, doesn’t it? Plus, it ain’t like the poster will say anything misleading because it always says so, right?”

“Sure he’s there?” Mac repeated.

“He will, I assure that. Stop bitching, now.” Siringo relaxed his body, focusing as he squinted through the sights of his rifle. He pointed towards the red box, and with a deep breath, ordered his horn to take the shot.

Click.

“Ah, shit!” Siringo blurted out.

Each of the ponies resting by the stagecoach instantly swiveled their heads to the bounty hunters’ location.

“The damned hell was that?” The stagecoach asked, paranoid.

“Who’s that stumblin’ around in the dark?!” One of them shouted out. He began to cautiously linger towards them.

Siringo and Mac buried their faces on the ground, fiercely whispering to each other incomprehensibly. The latter gave up and awkwardly crawled back, pulling his repeater out. Siringo cursed at Mac, again in gibberish, and forced himself up to approach the ponies.

“Oh, gentlecolts.” Siringo faked a smile and glanced to wherever Mac could be.

“You’s that bounty hunter, right?” The pony questioned. Upon a closer look, all of them were Earth ponies and wore a red bandana over their mouth or neck, as members of the Gristles’ gang.

“It is, alright.” Another one of them remarked. “Name’s is Horn Siringo or some queer shit like that.”

Siringo sneered at the bandit’s insult and dropped his smile. “Since you fellas see me an’ all, there’s a reason why I’m here.”

The four crooks exchanged glances, confused.

“I am looking for the stallion known as Bad Lee Cobb. A poster says h-”

The same offensive pony laughed. “Thought ya didn’t learn how to read!”

“...the poster says he was last reported to be around this region, Parasprite Hollow, being more exact. And he’s currently wanted of robbing a stagecoach from a family in Appleloosa, assuming that right there is the one it’s mentioned?”

“And going up to us was a good idea?”

“In a way, yes.”

“What kinda dumb fuckin’ shidiot are ya?” The third pony heckled.

Siringo gazed aside again, seaching for Mac. After a vital few seconds, he spotted him hidden behind a tree readied with his gun.

He warmed up his horn and looked back at the gang members. “I’m not sure. Your definition.”

In quick succession, three gunshots went off and blood exploded from three of the Gristles’ bandits. Two fell down instantly without a sound while the ridiculing one staggered down, screaming in agony. Assisting Mac, Siringo unholstered his revolver and swiftly picked the head off the last standing pony, which fell straight on his back.

Siringo walked up and stood over the surviving pony, still screeching.

“Say, can you tell me your name, boy?”

“AAAAGGGHHHH! OHHHHHH! Pip! It’s Pip!”

Siringo shot into Pip’s stomach, furthering his anguished bawling and squirming. “Huh, sounds as stupid-ass as mine, doesn’t it? It kind of beats ‘Horn’, though.” He fired another round into Pip’s head. It exploded as bits of brain splattered on his legs.

He looked back up only to notice Mac’s bewildered stare, watching him stand over the corpse like a psychopath. “I... I just got mad, is all.”, he said with calmness back in his eyes.

“Alright, mothafuckas, I’m getting outta the damn thing now.” The stagecoach shouted and an Earth pony burst out the door, landing on his face.

Siringo switched his sights onto his bounty target. “Cobb, unless you wanna stay alive, stay right there or you’ll have your ass blasted to the moon!”

“Oh, I’d regret shooting it if I’s you, bounty hunter.” Cobb laughed, clumsily standing on his hooves holding the gun in his mouth.

“And why is that?”

“I dunno, I’s meaning I wouldn’t regret it, really.” He flipped around and pointed his pistol on the dynamite.

“NO!” A mare screamed from within the stagecoach.

The explosion blew Siringo and Mac off their hooves and was heard for miles. The weather quickly turned from frigid to sweltering from the fires it created.

…..

After a few minutes later, Siringo woke up, still dizzy from the knockback.

“I think I mean that when I said he was ‘a bit loony’” He coughed with his eyes to the sky in awe.

“Who was that?” Mac asked, worried as he stood up.

“I know what you’re thinking, Mac, but no, it couldn’t have possibly have been her.”

Mac bitterly turned to Siringo and snapped like he did earlier. “If we go to Sickfuck Cotton Acres an’ we find out my sis’s dead from right now, I’m gonna blow your brains out right on the spot.”

“Hey, it’s not like I saw her being sold, but I guarantee they wouldn’t just sell her cheap right away. But we can’t assume now ‘til we cross that bridge. You’re going to calm down, now?” Siringo answered, sitting up.

Mac gazed at the aftermath of the explosion. “Right. AJ ain’t the average mare.”

“You okay?”

“Eeyup...”

“We’re okay. And we got what we came for.” Siringo glanced around the site. “You know what I said about you needing more clothes? There’s a big enough lookin’ pony over there, maybe you can take his minus the strap, if it doesn’t creep you.”

“It won’t.” Mac stepped towards one of the corpses without hesitation and started to take its clothes off.

As he was getting dressed, Siringo ripped off Pip’s red bandana and examined it. “Shit, if we keep killing off more of Top’s men, we’ll surely get enough attention. If the rest of us go by the ‘No witnesses’ line, we hopefully won’t have to go to some huge assault in the end. How are the dead’s apparel fitting you now?”

Mac now wore a green buttoned sweater and khaki jeans that comfortably wrapped him, along with AJ’s hat.

“See, now that looks a bit better. Want to rest or head back, now?”

“Ain’t sleepy at all.”

“Your call.” The duo started on their way to exit Parasprite Hollow. “One thing I admit, we did a good job.”

“Eeyup.”

“Well, other than the fact that the poor family’s not getting their stagecoach back and some innocent pony was killed...”

“It di-”

“Yeah, we fucked up, I know.”

Author's Note

I probably wasn't clear enough, but Mac was dreaming at the start. And the italics is Cornfield singing, for the sake of not putting "he sang" every time.
And hey, I might've jumped it with Mac's speaking in some parts and a certain character, but I'm still going with it.