Chapter 5: Impotence

Poor Margherita had failed once again, and she shot a retired brony critic. She ran to her trash can and hurled; she had more or less fantasized of murder. She prayed the Seven Penitential Psalms and made plans for the Sacrament of Reconciliation. A night of sweet dreams this was not, and to her detriment, its bitterness persisted.

FIFTH DREAM

Margaret returned to outer space, and as before, she met the princess of the night.

"Kindly pardon my absence, Margherita, for I had business to attend with my sister. Did I miss your second triumph over Chrysalis?"

"I'm afraid that you didn't, Your Majesty. Instead, I shot an innocent bystander."

"Oh, my! Whom did you shoot?"

"You probably wouldn't have known him. He was human—an Internet critic."

At first, the princess only stared. She was then overcome with many giggles, which eventually became callous laughter. "You should have told me sooner, Margherita! Our worlds could do with fewer critics!" Her words had taken Margaret aback.

"But, Your Majesty! I shot someone dead! You can't just kill people for pretension!"

"You cannot, but I am a princess. I can execute whomever I desire. Then again, I prefer humiliation: letting ponies live the rest of their days in shame. I lock critics into wooden stockades, and then, I order ponies to toss rotten fruit!"

"And you order that just because they're critics?"

"I might as well, because they act so predictably. Every word that leaves their mouths is pretension; they call natural exposition 'heavy-handed,' they always yell about nonexistent plot holes, and in the end, their complaints are just asinine: especially over character development."

"And that justifies stockades and rotten fruit?"

"Indeed! Critics ruin everything!" Luna stamped her hoof to make a point. "But critics are a subject for another evening. Do you not have a changeling to shoot?"

"I do," Margaret acknowledged. "But I'm afraid of what I'll find when I return."

"Whatever happened to you last was a fluke. Have some faith in yourself, Margherita."

Before Margaret could say another word, the world around her flashed, and she was back at the wedding.

***

"Oh, you sweet little simpleton. Every moment, Shining Armor grows weaker—and so does his spell! Even now, my minions are chipping away at it."

The time was at hand for Margaret's redemption. She slipped into the chapel's center aisle as Chrysalis looked at the ceiling and laughed. Margaret drew her Manurhin revolver and wasted no time in lining up her shot. Again, she took the modern isosceles, and she squeezed the weapon's double action trigger.

*click*

The hammer fell, but there was no discharge. Suddenly, the queen had ceased to laugh.

*click*

Margaret squeezed the trigger once more, but once again, nothing happened once the hammer fell.

Chrysalis was less than amused. "What on Earth do you think that you're up to?"

Before she panicked, Margaret disengaged the cylinder; her weapon, it seemed, was unloaded. Well aware that she was dreaming, however, she reengaged the cylinder and willed for more bullets.

*click*

"Is that supposed to make me feel threatened?"

Margaret once again disengaged the cylinder, seeing spaces where there should have been cases. Lacking pockets in her dress or a chest rig, it was futile to search for ammunition. So, with a nervous giggle, she reengaged the cylinder. "Pew, pew..." she muttered as she pretended to shoot. "Oh, who am I kidding? Princess Celestia, help me, please!"

"What? Oh, of course!" Celestia advanced down the apse, opening her mouth to give the queen a stern talking to, but before she could say another word, Chrysalis shot her in the face with a laser. Her head then exploded into smithereens, and as her body toppled, everyone shrieked.

Margaret gasped, and Chrysalis refaced her. She giggled at the mess that she had made. "No pony can save you now, Primate! Have you any last words before the invasion?"

Margaret may have failed to rescue the princess, but she would sooner have damned herself than have passively waited for death. So, she intensified her face with defiance and threw the Manurhin at the queen's giant head.

"Ouch!" cried the queen as the weapon hit her face. "You little...!" She shot a laser through Margaret's aorta, and as before, Margaret died and awoke.