Not all cutiemarks are good

London was quite at night. The killer

galloped through the empty streets,

smiling in the dark. His smile was more

of a smirk, and it showed his amazingly

long fangs. He was hungry. Ah ha. His

first victim of the night stepped out of

the shadows.

But, wait. This 'victim'

was camly trotting towards him, not

fleeing in terror. He was not sure if

this was good or not. A voice came from

the shadows, or possibly the pony that

was now only a few metres away from

him. It was a mare, but her voice was

tough. The killer knew her voice and

stopped. She spoke.

"Why, hello Spring Lock. So nice to

see you again. What's the rush?" Her

voice had a British accent.

"It's you." Spring Lock said. He was

still hungry, and her throat was an easy

target. He resisted the urge to bite her,

and asked,"You got her?"

The mare looked at Spring Lock.

"I'm sorry, but I've not got a clue

what you're talking about."

Spring Lock glared at her with hungry

eyes.   "Padlock Chain, I can quite easely

rip your head of your shoulders and feast

on your blood, but I'm sure you wouldn't

want that. So why not give me that damn

filly's location RIGHT NOW."

Padlock smiled, and there was a

mischievous glint in her lilac eyes.

I'm afraid not, sir. I have to go now, but

I'll see you around.

With that, the mare lightly stomped her

hoove on the ground, and the shadows

seemed to surround her. In an instant,

she was gone.