It Was A Cold Night

by writingiscool

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character, Tragedy
Length: 1065

It was dark and gloomy that evening, and the fog was thick as blood. I approached the diner with hesitance...

A dark night in Manehattan. Six ponies on an outing. One fully loaded machine gun. And a reluctant assassin.

This is the story of that cold night, when the stallion Painted Rock killed the six most important ponies in Equestria. And the story of why he did it.

Cover image found on google images. (I am a very lazy human being.)
First story of a new idea.

Published 2016-05-29 18:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-05-29 18:30:02 UTC

It Was A Cold Night.

The click clack of the tommy gun was the single most dreadful noise he had ever heard in his life. Butterflies filled his stomach, and the very first thing he thought of was the pony who forced him to do this.

"Kid. You've done good, but I want more. I expect you to do this without any problems or complications getting in your way," Said the black-coated earth-pony in front of him, as he smoked an expensive looking cigar. A six chamber revolver sat on his desk, and there was no way Rock could grab it before the earth-pony could. There was no way out of this job. The folder sat there, taunting him. Inside were the profiles of six ponies.

"Go downstairs and ask Halifax for a gun. Once you've got your weapon, you double-time it to Luna's diner down on Whitecoat Street. Shoot everything alive inside, no witnesses, ya got me kid?"

He nodded quickly, and the burly earth-pony sitting at the mahogany desk shooed him away. The scrawny grey pegasus known as Rock scurried down the rickety stairs, and looked around the old and dusty warehouse for the old unicorn known as Halifax. It wasn't hard to find him, as he was the only unicorn mafioso in the building. He was also by the entrance, as his job was to guard the makeshift armory.

As the pegasus approached, the old unicorn squinted.

"Ya here for a gun, sonny? I gots machine guns, pistols, rifles, revolving crossbows, and damn-well nearly any weapon you could possibly need."

Rock nervously replied, "The boss juss wants me 'ta take a machine gun. Ah-Ah'll need mahself a coat."

This seemed to satisfy the old unicorn, and he disappeared through the door frame for a minute. As Rock waited, he felt increasingly sick to his stomach. The act of killing another pony was an experience he didn't want to have on his conscience. But he would have to. In order to keep everyone he knew safe, he would have to do this. Six times. Or even more. He suddenly lurched over, and threw up. By the time the elder unicorn got back, he saw the rookie pegasus dry-heaving.

"Ya okay, sonny?"

Rock calmed his stomach, before replying, "Ah just ate a bad apple, Ah'll be fine Halifax."

His lie seemed to work, and the unicorn hoofed him the trenchcoat and gun he requested. The young mafioso put the tommy gun under his left wing, and the coat under his right. He turned to leave, but the unicorn stopped him.

"Ya forgot your hat, kid! Don't wander off without coverin' yer 'ead, else they'll see yer face and catch ya."

The pegasus took the hat, placing it on his head using his hoof. He thanked the unicorn, and finally left the musty old warehouse. He needed to get out, and the cold midnight air greeted him as he opened the battered and old wooden door. Luna's moon hung high in the air, almost as if the Lunar Princess herself was passing judgement on him. He shuddered as a shiver ran down his spine, and set off into the cold Manehattan night.

The coat that hugged his body allowed his wings to escape, and he gave them an experimental flap. The air around him slowly settled, and then was disturbed as he took flight into the air. The heavy machine gun hung under him, the strap holding it up.

Truly flight was a liberating experience. He felt ecstasy as he flew through the frigid air, the wind ruffling his wings. It was free, and he almost forgot the task at hand. He grimaced as he spied the diner he was looking for, and came in for a landing in an alleyway adjacent from it. The alleyway was full of garbage bags and rats. A few barrels and trashcans were tipped over, ash spilling out of one of the barrels near the end of the alley. He paused for a moment, a rat squeaking and running past him.

Rock stood up on two hooves, and held the machine gun in his two front hooves. He grimaced as he moved his hoof into the cuff on the machine gun, and stumbled forward on two hooves. Squinting, he gazed at the neon diner sign. It read, 'Luna's'. He knew about these kinds of diners, if they were named after the Princesses, they were part of a line of restaurants and diners that were very high-class and expensive.

He imagined the Princesses gazing down on him, judging him. Their eyes would cut through the fog.

The click clack of the tommy gun was the most dreadful sound he ever heard. After thinking about his boss, he took a step forward. He then strode across the street, seeing the head of the Alicorn Twilight Sparkle.

Taking aim, the gun fired. A spray of hot lead pierced the flesh of the occupants of the diner. The six ponies he aimed for dropped to the floor, and a few other ponies ran out of the doors to the eatery, screaming and panicking as bullet after bullet flew from the gun's muzzle. The grey pegasus behind the crimes felt sickly, and his face turned a shade of green. He couldn't hold it in, and he dry-heaved on the cement.

Minutes later, the guard arrived to find a pegasus unconscious. He held a machine gun, and was wearing a coat and hat. The pegasus was arrested soon after, and was convicted of the crime of mass murder after interrogation.

"Painted Rock. Pegasus male, five heads tall. Occupation: artist. Crimes: six counts of murder. One count of successful royalty assassination. Sentence: public execution," Stated the judge, who gazed upon the pegasus having a mental break-down with practiced apathy.

"We hereby sentence you to death for the crime of murder. You will be executed in two days."

The words cut him like a knife through butter. He realized that he would die, and everypony he cared about would be killed by that maniac he had to call a boss. The nervousness left him, the anxiety left him, only grim anticipation and despair was left.

And sure enough, two days later, Painted Rock was executed in public via noose. The platform was slightly off, and he died by suffocation rather than his neck snapping.