Nightcore

by Derpy Fan 4eva

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Adventure, Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 4505

What happens when a master assassin has had enough of killing?

This is a story about Nightcore, a master assassin who has to go into hiding after balking his latest mission. But it's not as easy as he had hoped, cause you get allot of enemies when you decapitate the friends of people in high places. All he has to do is blend in until this all blows over. Only one tiny problem. Nightcore is not an average pony. He's a half breed, and his father was a dragon.

This is my first real fic. It's going to start as a prologue and if people like it I'll continue. Limited internet access so bear with me. This is not a Naruto crossover, nor an Assassin's Creed cross over. Credit goes where credit's due,
I'd like to thank JaydexTheShadowKnight for editing and support,
SteampunkBrony for letting me use his Sun Blessed idea,
and Lauren Faust/Hasbro for making this all happen.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-26 05:04:02 UTC

Shadows of the Past

A red stallion quickly sprinted across the tiled rooftops, making no more noise than a moth as he confidently leaped along the tiled surface. He had been doing this for years and had never had any mishaps before, so he had no reason to expect tonight was going to be any different. In fact, this had to have been the easiest hit he'd ever had to pull, so much so he let himself get lost in thought for a bit. As an assassin for hire, no one had ever met Nightcore face to face and lived. That was his way and he liked it that way. He hated other ponies with a passion. Who were they to judge him? They were the ones who led him to start. And once his blood lust had begun, he soon found that he couldn't stop. That was the past though. Now it barley fazed him when he took another life. The money was good and he didn't have to live with others mocking him for who he was. Who was this master killer you ask? He asked himself the same thing countless times over his long life. He was an abomination, a byproduct of what happens when an adolescent dragon rapes a mare.  He was a killer.

Nightcore looked just like every other pony, but bigger, with large leathery draconian wings, and a set of seemingly useless fangs. But those were easy to hide, what really made him stand out was his blood red scales. He had been born with the beautiful green fur of his mother, but soon it started to all fall out as the red scales of a dragon started to manifest across his skin. He was a disgrace to his family name so they threw him into the nearest body of water hoping he would die.  After his family had left him to drown, there was a rustling in the nearby bushes. A light blue mare poked her head out and scrambled to see what kind of valuables were in the bag. The mare opened the bag expecting something of value, but was horrified to find it was a foal of some kind with bat wings and scales along its body.

The mare, known only as Ipsy Twitch, felt compassion go out to the little thing as it shivered in the cold, crying out to the world for comfort. She also felt a dark hatred for the horrid monsters that had tried to kill it. So, without much thought, Ipsy took the babe home to rear as her own. Ipsy lived with a roaming band of gypsies and they all took to the babe as fast as the mare did. As the child grew older, the band taught him the ways of their craft. At the time, the noble families shunned gypsies, labeling all of them as thieves, murderers, and just plain filth, so they learned to conform. Nightcore was taught to blend into his surroundings to hide from prying eyes, meld with the shadows and master disguise in order to escape from the law.  He was also shown the art of the blade so they might earn a few bits with a mock fight in a town square.  He also learned some things that his band of family did not wish to teach him, like how to pick locks, pick a pocket or two, and the hatred of the rich, which all beggars are endowed with.

As Nightcore grew, it became obvious that he had also inherited the long life span from his dragon blood, and soon he was the only one left alive from his childhood. The others had died from either starvation, disease, age (which was least common) or the gallows. He felt his long life was a curse, for he had witnessed far too many of those he held dear be publicly executed. Every time he saw the life leave the tear stained face of someone he knew, for the sole reason they were at the wrong place at the wrong time, Nightcore would feel his blood boil and grow an unyielding need to exact revenge. Ipsy had been the only one who could calm and comfort him after each death. But now even she was gone from his world and he was left alone to the cold, shunned and persecuted for his looks.

The first time Nightcore had taken a life was burned into his memory and haunted his dreams. Nightcore had joined many other bands of gypsies as he aged, but one held above all others because of her. He never found out her name, but her beauty entranced him from the start. She was very tiny for her age and was constantly mistaken for a filly. She had beautiful light green fur, a gray mane with a white strip and a tail to match, and piercing red eyes. He fell for the tiny beauty the first time he had laid eyes on her. This was why her end was his beginning.

The town where his career started was coincidentally his place of birth. And unfortunately, his older brother was stll alive and knew that the abomination had their blood pumping through his veins. When he saw Nightcore dancing in the town circle with the little green mare, he panicked. Night was supposed to be dead, yet there he was dancing and being very much alive. Fearing that the beast knew what they had done and he was going to retaliate, Nightcore’s brother decided to act first and set a bounty for 500 bits for anyone who found any of the gypsies from that fateful day.  Nightcore was able to escape, but the mare didn’t.

She didn’t cry when the town beat her in the square. She didn’t cry when the executioner walked out with an axe in his black magical aura. She didn’t cry when her head was rested on a wooden block. No, she did not cry as she faced death. Her tears were meant for the lone red stallion who watched from the front row, just bearly noticeable under a huge brown monks robe. Just before the axe took off her head, she implanted her thoughts into Nightcore’s mind. There, she told him who he was, why the upper class wanted their family dead and, most importantly to him, how much she loved this stallion who she never got to know. This time, Nightcore lost it. There was no holding back. This time, ponies were going to pay. And pay dearly!

In the end, after his family had mocked the little abomination whose only crime was being born, Nightcore was the one to have the last laugh. He succeeded where they had failed. When Nightcore left his hometown for the last time, not a single member of his family lived. As the sun rose the next morning in the town of Ponyville woke to the horrific screams of a filly Granny Smith. For the house of her best friend was littered with the decapitated limbs of every member of the house, even the servants were found dead. After that horrific day in the start of the young settlement, the gypsies were left alone, for Nightcore had left his mark in blood.  It read: You killed my family? Well, now I’ve killed yours.

Nightcore quickly shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. It was time to get back to work. When it was all said and done, he felt kind of sad. He had hoped for more of a challenge. The idiot had been so chalked full of steroids he had bludgeoned himself to death to “prove his stallionness” to Nightcore’s shadow. No matter how disappointing the kill was, Nightcore was never one to turn down free money.

The start of the End

Chapter 1

Nightcore flew across the rooftops of Canterlot, headed for his pre-appointed drop off zone. This had to have been the riskiest and most profitable hit he had ever accepted. Nightcore was usually very weary when members of the upper class required his services.   But when Fancy Pants offered him 5,000 bits up front with no questions asked and a possible doubled amount if the hit was done early, how could he resist?  The best part of all was that the hit was on some lowly criminal scum whose disappearance wouldn’t cause unrest from the guard.

It had been roughly more than 60 years since Nightcore desecrated his family home, but he hadn’t seemed to have aged the slightest, with the only noticeable difference being that there no longer seemed to be any joy or compassion in his eyes.  No, the two lumps of gold that were his eyes didn’t live up to their name’s sake. They seemed dull and icy, accompanied by a constant if-looks-could-kill scowl upon his lips. He appeared every part a killer, so he took to great pains to make sure he couldn’t become recognizable. Still, he had been in the business since before Ponyville began, resulting in his cockiness and greed.

Fancy Pants had made it very clear he wanted this to be as discreet as possible. The only reason he wanted the stallion dead was because he feared for his trophy of a wife, since the guy was starting to be labeled a modern day Jack the Ripper, and evidence at his past crime scenes pointed Fleur to be his next target. Fancy Pants seemed bitter that he had to fight fire with fire, but Nightcore was anything but legendary for his deadly accuracy. It was fabled among the lesser crowd that all Nightcore needed was a piece of fur, and his target was dead by sunrise.

Nightcore didn’t like the fame around his name, but he took pride in the quality and efficiency of his work. It helped that his self-proclaimed ‘cursed blood’ gave him stronger senses and a knack for the dark arts, even without a horn. He even found he could breathe fire if he focused enough. With his keen sense of smell, sight, and hearing, coupled with some boosts of black magic, Nightcore could find anypony as long as they were still on the plane of existence.  There had been one instance where a brown earth pony stallion had run into a phone booth and disappeared.  However, as soon as he knew where his target was, it would be anywhere from a matter of minutes to a day or two for Nightcore to find his quarry alone in order to take it out.

This target had been the easiest. The idiot had been found in the sewer not six yards away, the guards writing him off as another bum. He was dispatched while he slept, murmuring of an obvious wet dream about him raping Fleur. Now all that was left was to drop the body and evidence off for Fancy Pants, and Nightcore would walk away 10,000 bits richer. It was almost too good to be true.

A whistling in his right ear agreed, as magically enhanced darts flew in his direction from hidden assailants. The bastard Fancy Pants had set him up! Nightcore beat himself up for being stupid enough to show his face. Quickly dropping the carcass, Nightcore turned to flee until a mass of royal pegasus night guards started assaulting him from all sides, keeping him from running. Out of options, Nightcore was forced to play his bluff card before the game had even begun and he unfurled his dragon like wings, taking off with such force and speed that he sent more than one shocked night guard tumbling to the ground below.

Then the worst possible thing that could happen did. Bright lights lit up the sky as members of Celestia’s Sun Blessed warriors started to pour out from the Palace. Nightcore couldn’t believe his rotten situation. After 85 years he had been able to evade the authorities. Not once did he get close to being captured, even at his start, yet here he was, at the prime of his life, about to be undone by the rich snob of all beings. The thing about the Sun Blessed was that they had an affinity for tracking black magic users, which was considered illegal magic since the time of Nightmare Moon. They were a powered up police force created by Celestia herself, to hunt down anypony corrupted by black magic. Of course, when black magic was involved, no pony but Luna could tell if somepony was fully corrupted, so the Sun Blessed usually just butchered anypony with a black aura, claiming self-defense when brought to trial.

Once again out of options, Nightcore had to expose another of his secret weapons in order to escape certain doom. Tapping into the natural magic in the surrounding area, Nightcore summoned the power of the ancient dragon tongue, and thruum’ed his way out of the city gates. The teleportation had been a huge risk because he could have ended up with half his body stuck in a tree. Luckily, he wound up in the swampiest of areas beyond the city walls. Worn out from his sudden use of energy, Nightcore just collapsed in the puddle he had been hovering over.  He prayed he wouldn’t be discovered as he drifted into unconsciousness.

********

Something was wrong. Nightcore knew that he had passed out in a moist, stinking, rotted wetland, and yet he found himself lying on a fairly comfortable bed of some kind. He could hear hoof steps and was mulling over how best to jump his captor when he noticed he was not being held down. Quickly using some magic, he surveyed the room, while still keeping the appearance of being passed out. He appeared to be in a post office of all places, with a little living area built in back.

There was a gray pegasus mare in the kitchen across from the room he was in.  There was a small unicorn filly that appeared to belong to the mare, she was watching him from another bedroom.  Letters and packages filled most of the house, and since he couldn’t detect anypony else in the building, he figured the pegasus worked alone. The smell of fresh baked muffins floated through the air and Nightcore’s stomach growled something fierce.  “Mamma, I think he’s awake. His tummy is talking,” the little filly said.

The pegasus poked her head into the door frame. She smiled at him and said, “Hi there, are you ok? I was really worried when I saw you floating down the river. I wasn’t sure if you had drowned at first!  I’m glad you’re awake.  Would you care for some breakfast?” Nightcore just stared at the mare, trying to figure her out. She had said she found him in a river, but he had been in a swamp before he passed out?

The pegasus standing before him was gray with blonde hair and gold eyes like his, but she seemed to have a bad case of walleye.  He couldn’t deny that she seemed generally concerned for his well being, which meant she had no idea who he was. “I’m sorry, I can’t quite remember what happened last night.  Would you mind telling me where I am and the name of the one who saved my life?” Nightcore responded. The mare seemed to blush at that.

“Oh, umm, of course. You hit your head real bad it seems and you were bleeding. I brought you here and patched you up,” she said pointing at his head.  Nightcore rolled his eyes upward and was now aware of the bandages.  He looked at her and could still see the distinct presence of concern in her eyes.  “My name is Derpy Hooves, and I’m the mailmare here in Ponyville.” She beamed at Nightcore.

Ponyville, he was in Ponyville?  Karma truly was a bitch. No ifs ands, nor buts. How in Celestia’s name did he wind up floating in a river in Ponyville? He had never set foot near the place ever since that fateful day when he got his cutie mark. This was the absolute last place he wanted to be. He just sat there in awkward silence as he stared at Derpy dumbfounded.

With understandable nervousness, Derpy once again invited him to come eat breakfast, and then told her daughter “Dinky” to go bathe before school. Nightcore just sat there for a while longer. He was in Ponyville. Was this some kind of cruel joke the princesses where playing on him, or had he been given a reprieve?

He was unknown in Ponyville. Everypony from that day had to be dead by now.  Hell it was over 60 years ago! It was too much of a coincidence for there not to be more at hand than met the eye. Nightcore knew he was a wanted stallion, he knew he had been in a swamp when he passed out, and he knew the royal guards were looking for him. And yet he also knew that this mare meant him no harm. He hoped he was wrong, but he guessed the bubbles on her cutie mark were for her intelligence, cause honestly, how many stallions in Equestria had red scales instead of fur?

************** author's note****************

This is my first real fic, so criticism is appreciated, but trolling will not be tolerated. The comment notification gets annoying after a while. Thanks goes out to DawnFade and JadexTheShadowKnight for taking the time to give my story a good ol' fashion butchering. And Thanks goes to SteampunkBrony for letting me use his Sun Blessed guards.

Let the bodies hit the floor

Nightcore - Chapter 2: "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor"

The room was filled with the clinking of silverware on china as the three ate the delicious waffle muffins. Nightcore had just assumed Miss Hooves had been joking when she had said that she could make anything out of muffins. The delicacy before him was by far the most delicious, moist and perfect waffle he had ever eaten. Derpy just wrote off his compliments saying that muffins were her special talent. And looking at the bubbles on her flank, Nightcore thought maybe there was more than meets the eye to her cutie mark. Perhaps the bubbles represented how every muffin that came from the mailmare’s kitchen was as light and fluffy as a cloud, instead of a symbol marking her intellectual nature.

“Dinky, it’s almost time for school. Go get ready and we’ll leave soon,” instructed Derpy.  No matter where Nightcore went, foals always remained the same. Always happy to have fun but always sulked when they had to work. Dinky appeared to be one of the few who considered school “fun.” At the hint of school, the young unicorn burst out of the room with enough speed to humble the famed Rainbow Dash herself. Once the foal was gone, the kitchen soon filled with an awkward silence. It was almost choking – the tension was so thick.

“So… you have a lovely home,” said Nightcore breaking the silence.  He wasn’t a stallion that found himself in many social situations, so Nightcore found trying to start a conversation with this mare was far more challenging than some of his most taxing hits. Now that he got a good look at the place, he realized it was little more than a glorified dump. Cracks littered the walls, the roof was leaking despite the fact that there had been a drought for a good while, which might have explained why the water drops stank to high heavens.  In fact there were so many patches of discoloration, it clearly hinted at the presence of underlying mold. Here was a stallion that was able to fool even the best lie detectors and he was having trouble keeping a poker face to this simple mare. He obviously didn’t try hard enough by the way Derpy’s face fell.

Derpy sighed as she responded, “There’s no need to lie. This place is a dump. And what’s worse is that even though it is a dump that no pony would want, I’m still unable to afford the rent!” At this the poor thing broke down into tears. For the second time in his long life, Nightcore was at a loss on what to do, and the day had just barely begun.

As the day progressed, the mail house soon filled with patrons; either wanting to mail a package, or yell at the wall-eyed mare for some blunder that most of the time couldn’t have been remotely her fault. Ironically, it seemed more ponies stopped by to yell at the gray mare than those who wanted to get an item shipped. Derpy seemed to hold herself together for the most part, but everypony had their limits, granted she seemed to handle more nonsense than most. Still, it wasn’t long before one extremely rude orange stallion with an ebony black mane and tail, and the strangest cutie mark Nightcore had ever seen, reduced the pegasus to a sobbing wreck.

Nightcore was getting the awful feeling that being in uncomfortable situations was going to be a common occurrence here. He helped Derpy finish filing the day’s mail, close the shop, and brew some relaxing herbal tea.  The mare just sat at her kitchen table, sipping her tea as the aftermath of her sobs racked through her body. “Th-thank y-you…so much for-for y-y-your help. It means a-a lot to m-m-me,” sniffed Derpy, taking the opportunity to whip out a tissue Pinkie style and give it a thorough soaking.  “I-I really feel b-b-bad about this, but could y-y-you walk with m-m-me to pick up Dddddd-Dinky?”

Nightcore was a cold-blooded killer capable of slashing a foal’s throat for the right price, all be it a high one due to the involvement of a foal, and the outrage it incurred, but he doubted that even Discord himself would tell Derpy “No”. Nightcore it seemed was clearly no Discord, yet despite everything that happened to him, there was still a glimmer of compassion in his plagued heart.  “Sure, I’d be happy to go. After all, you did save my life,” he replied wondering why he offered to help her.

As Derpy locked the door, Nightcore secretly cursed his still compassionate heart for betraying his common sense. It was bad enough they had to walk clear across town in broad daylight, but to make matters worse, he had to deal with the worst creatures known to equines… foals! He hated foals. They were like tiny alcoholics except he couldn’t hit them when they got rude or annoying. And dear Celestia, were they good at hide and seek. During one of his hits, he was almost found by a little filly. Luckily for him no pony believed her and he was able to escape with no pony the wiser.

As the two walked the streets, it didn’t take Derpy long before she thought of a brilliant idea.  Turning to Nightcore she suggested, “How about instead of walking through town, we take the scenic way around the outskirts of town?”  The mare looked at him thoughtfully.  He thought her idea had merit.  By taking her suggested route, they would attract less attention.  Derpy continued looking at him, and added, “I mean as long as that’s okay with you, Nightcore.”

He nodded to her and replied, “That would be fine.”

When Derpy had said they were going to take the scenic route, she really meant the scenic route. Upon reaching the point farthest form the center of town – the two walked into a gorgeous little field filled with all sorts of little flowers and multi-colored plants. Birds sang in the trees and bugs circled the perfect circles of the trees outlining the area. The last time Nightcore had seen something this beautiful was when the Dawn guard tried to capture him with an illusion spell. Realization quickly struck Nightcore like a sledgehammer being thrust into his gut. He turned towards Derpy to see she was sobbing again with tears rolling down her face.  Looking around he noticed the lovely field was an illusion.  The beauty faded and was replaced by the Everfree Forest, whose twisted trees made a natural barrier that hindered flight.  He felt a rush of panic strike, as he looked at her again, failing to keep the sense of betrayal from leaving his eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, but your bounty was enough to pay a decade’s worth of rent and still leave enough to pay for repairs,” whimpered Derpy as more tears fell from her eyes.  Nightcore activated his life detection spell and found the odds were in his favor 100 to 1 with the twenty members of the Dawn guard located. It would have been like shooting apples off a tree. But there was no way he could do anything to retaliate and be sure Derpy wouldn’t get hurt or die in the crossfire. While he might not enjoy shedding innocent blood, these guys could care less as long as there was a target that could get the blame. There was only one option.

Nightcore hung his head dejectedly and announced, “I surrender! I won’t fight! Just don’t hurt the mare.”

The Dawn guards emerged from their hiding places, each wearing a superior grin.  “Wow, it seems Equestria’s “bloodiest shadow” has a soft spot after all. But do not worry; with all the blood you’ve shed, another casualty won’t do much,” declared one of the guardsman, who was obviously the one in charge. Nightcore sighed with relief, there were two things he loved more than money, when a plan came together, and when he relieved a debt. The stallion in front of him just sneered at him. “There’s just one problem, you see, I won’t get a promotion if you surrender. So, I’m going to have to kill you and the mare. We can’t have witnesses now, can we?”

Nightcore’s weapon of choice was world renown as the sharpest, most-deadly blade ever to be forged. The sword was black as night, forged from dragon’s blood and fire, and made from an unknown metal that was rumored to repair itself from the blood of its victims.  The seven-foot long Executioner Blade could give Death a reason to pause.

Derpy could only sand there in fear as Night exploded with rage.  He hefted the Executioner Blade at the ready as he charged the Dawn guards with unimaginable speed.  His blade cleaved into their necks seemingly instantaneously.  To Derpy’s horror the guards’ heads seemed to explode off their necks in carnage the likes this innocent mare had never seen before.  Just before she began passing out from shock, she felt something dripping on her shoulder. The mare managed to turn and see Nightcore with his hoof shoved clear through the chest of the last guardsman behind her. The Stallion had an axe raised above his head, which had been waiting to strike her down.  Derpy wasn’t stupid, even as unconsciousness reached to claim her; she knew that Nightcore had just saved her life

-------------------------------------------------- author's note ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Special thanks to  JaydexTheShadowKnight for editing. I don't own MLP;FiM but I do own the copyrights to Nightcore and the picture. Best $50 I've ever spent.