Author's Note
Written because I had some free time between working the past week or so and thought I'd fill it with something half-productive. I suck at writing, so apologies in advance.
If people don't think it's completely terrible, I guess I'll continue with it.
Minor setback
A few years earlier:
Damn, she's coming back, the stallion thought as alarm bells began sounding in his head. All too aware of the dangers of losing his calm, he mentally shook himself and began contemplating. Come on, dumbass. You ain't gonna get nothing done by panicking.
He took a deep breath.
His mark had made an unexpected move by returning to her post earlier than he'd predicted. He was operating within his home town this time: everypony trusted him and would therefore never present any obstacle to him in that regard, but if he did ever get caught it would have serious, irreparable consequences. Here, he found himself possibly looking at just that.
You're good, just keep it together and think calmly, the voice in his head told him. He observed his surroundings, pondering his situation as he did so. Now, there wouldn't have been a problem if she'd afforded him only a minute or so longer like he'd presumed she would (she was normally kinda slow whenever he came to collect deliveries), but as it was he'd had to sift through the drawers under her desk to find his prize, removing whatever was in his way in the process and if she'd walked in on him now, she'd have probably guessed what he was up to right away.
Then, the stallion noticed the clutter on the mailmare's counter. He'd timed his move well, it seemed; Ditzy Doo was usually busy this time in the morning, so it made sense that general tidiness wasn't that high on her list of priorities at this particular moment. Indeed, between Rarity's various deliveries which had to be collected from the depot and well, whoever else frequents the mailmare he supposed, Ditzy hadn't even had chance to finish her breakfast; a muffin, naturally.
Pocketing the bag of stolen bits hurriedly, he managed to place one of the apples in his saddlebags on the floor while the mare was still just out of sight. She was just emerging from the back room as he feigned tripping over the apple: at his size, even the half-hearted tumble he took sent everything on the counter that could move flying and all over the floor. He kept up his act, widening his eyes and lifting himself from the floor. He took the opportunity to observe the damage done, a fake look of apology plastered on his face as he looked between it and the mare. It was good enough he supposed, enough of a mess to distract from the missing bits. Between that and the presumption of his innocence she would no doubt have, she'd probably be more upset at him over her now-ruined muffin.
''Mighty sorry, Miss,'' he lamented, placing the apple back in his bag and picking up some of the various envelopes and packaging on the floor. A brief look of despair took her face- her day was busy enough without his contribution, he supposed- but she shook her head and quickly snapped out of it.
''It's alright, don't worry. Wow, I thought I was clumsy,'' she joked. ''You should be more careful Big Mac, you could've hurt yourself,'' she said more seriously, joining his effort to remove the mess. A brief feeling of guilt shot through Mac's conscience at this. Thankfully, it was something he'd long ago learned to deal with. ''All thanks to me berating you; you're welcome buddy''.
''Ah'm a little tired today, sorry,'' he lied.
She smiled at him. ''Yeah, I can see that. I'd be tired if I worked your farm all day. You should take a break more often''.
''Eeyup,'' he responded in his usual manner.
Ditzy then remembered why he was there. ''Oh, yeah- here's your package from Appleoosa. This time I found it near the front,'' she grinned sheepishly. ''She should really start arranging those things by date order. Or alphabetical. Whatever''.
''Eeyup,'' he repeated himself as she handed the object to him.
''So, how are your family? I hope you're getting along alright after what happened to Granny. I know it's tough to lose somepony close to you,'' she began, ''you should come by and talk more often, you know- it might help-''
''Real grateful for that Miss, maybe I'll come by when I got time,'' he took the opportunity to cut the discussion short. Granny Smith's passing just under a year earlier was still rather a touchy subject and he preferred to drown out such troubles with his work than weep about it to ponies. Besides, he had the rest of his family to talk about that with. Pragmatically speaking, he was also becoming more and more aware of how important it was to vacate the area once one had committed a crime.
She wore a slight look of disappointment at this dismissal, but brightened up quickly enough. ''Oh, okay then. No problem. See you again soon!''
On this occasion, he'd worn his saddlebags only to provide a ruse, just in case collecting the delivery hadn't done the trick. Nopony would have questioned it, he'd figured; with their recent decline in business, there was by now going to be some expectation of him to simply give up trying to sell anything every now and then. As it happened, he did have one or two things to reflect upon and he didn't feel all that up to visiting the market today.
The walk home between Ponyville and Sweet Apple Acres always brought him by the local tavern. Resisting the urge to do a little thinkin' drinkin' was sometimes hard when he felt guilty or conflicted and had some free time; today was one such occasion. Thieves typically were supposed to spend their goods on just such debauchery, after all (though a brothel would have been a bit more appropriate in that regard).
This was countered by several things of course: one it was stupid, two he was better than that and Ponyville folk were expected to know their limit, three he was sure AppleJack would have one or two words to say about it (''I think: 'Big McIntosh, whut in EQUESTRIA were you thinkin'?' would be a good guess,'' his inner self chuckled), four it wasn't even noon yet and most importantly of course, he needed every bit he had to pay back Filthy Rich.
For an apparent 'friend of the family', Rich had proved himself quite the miser when Granny had passed away. As the eldest sibling, Big Mac had found himself in charge of more than he was used to. Decent and dependable as she was, his younger sister AppleJack (and youngest sister Apple Bloom had tried, too) naturally stepped in and helped with much of this responsibility; he was sure he'd never have managed without her, in fact.
One issue he hadn't the heart to reveal to her though was the debt Granny had left them in. He didn't know whether it was a sense of fear for the old mare or a genuine sense of respect for her that had kept Filthy from pursuing it while she was alive, but in addition to the business done between the Apple and Rich families, Mac discovered a- presumed forgotten- debt of one thousand bits the Apples had to borrow from Stinkin' Rich, one year decades back when an unusually grave case of Apple Blight caused the Apples' harvest to utterly fail. Apparently, the debt had been put off so long Granny had mistakenly presumed that the whole thing had been dropped out of sheer good will.
''You wanna assume the best in ponies you know well''. He looked up into the sky in a moment of reflection. ''Sucks real bad when life don't work out that way''.
Unfortunately, the current head of the Rich household had no such reservations with Big McIntosh and now expected interest in addition. Seeing it as his duty and a test of his worth as a stallion, Big Mac had- perhaps foolishly- taken it upon himself to defend his family from this reality. It had gotten to the point where he felt it would tear his family apart to learn of their predicament now, which would really have been a shame since they were still finding it hard to live with the loss of their Grand-Mare and with all the time AppleJack would have to take from her duties as one of Equestria's most important figures; he'd never get over the shame of it. So, the task fell to him.
Now, as he approached the entrance to his farm, he couldn't help but wonder what might have been if he'd just followed his sister's example and been honest from the start. He knew better than to keep such secrets from his family and it was pretty clear now that he'd acted irrationally. Now here he was, stealing from ponies he grew up around to help make reparations. Still, it was too late now and there was no point feeling sorry for himself- he was better than that, at least.
''Coulda been worse after all. Least you ain't a rent colt''. Stop trying to be funny.
His chores would probably help take his mind off things.
Quietly (except for a brief moment Winona, the family dog had come to greet him), he made his way to their barn, an impressive structure into which years of proud labor had been dedicated. It spoke volumes to the sense of quality Mac (like all his family throughout the generations) possessed: painted bold red and in immaculate condition, it provided housing not only for their livestock but also acted as a form of storage for tools and equipment and the like. As Mac entered the barn, a relatively new enclosure within also revealed itself- located near the more heavy-duty equipment, Mac figured when he had planned its construction that nopony other than himself would find reason to look into that area.
He opened it to reveal stashes of his prizes over the years: apart from the gold he had still to pay Filthy, there were some more sentimental prizes Mac couldn't bring himself to sell off, each with their own story: a diamond- encrusted necklace, for example, taken from the residence of some well-to-do mare in Manehattan, years ago when he was only young and visiting his Aunt and Uncle Orange; back when he first discovered he had a talent for skulduggery- promptly having vowed never to engage in such behaviour again when he saw how much it hurt other ponies.
''Well, it's good of you to realize you're hurtin' folk and that's bad. Give yourself a nice pat on the back, champ,'' he told himself sarcastically. Valid point, but he couldn't help but be fond of how well he'd pulled off that particular stunt. Credit where it was due, after all.
Manehattan families unfortunately tended not to be all that stable compared to in more traditionalist towns and this particular mare- a friend of his aunt and uncle- recently discovered her husband had been unfaithful, leading to dispute.
Having been dared to steal the necklace by some of the other colts from Manehattan, the young McIntosh naturally felt pressured to do so and being far more capable of cunning than one would have expected, picked up on this situation and took advantage of it by misinforming the couple's daughter (who he got landed with on occasion) he'd witnessed her father with another mare while he and Granny Smith were visiting Bridleway.
''But Mommy said Daddy wasn't allowed to cheat anymore!''- the filly was only little, the way she'd phrased it seemed amusing at the time. Not so much in hindsight.
As he'd predicted, she immediately relayed this to her mother, whose bad temper- coupled with the fact that her father had been drinking excessively that night, set off quite a dispute.
''Now you're calling our daughter a liar?! I can see now you have no respect for this family!''
''Yeah, 'cause you're a stupid bitch! You think I really wanted foals with you? Dumb broad''.
Even then, he thought perhaps it had gone a step too far. Hopefully the frightened filly watching got some decent counselling afterwards. ''Reckon she was fine,'' he reassured himself. ''She'll just hate her parents her whole life or think every stallion's a scumbag, you didn't mess her up at all''. Geez.
The chaos caused provided perfect cover for Mac, who simply had to pick the necklace off the floor when the dust had settled, after the stallion had broken several pieces of furniture in his stupor.
The young colt was certainly pleased with himself- he didn't even think it would go that well! He had expected the couple to simply walk away as their daughter watched and then for her mother to simply assume her husband had taken her necklace out of spite. The awe and admiration he got as he presented his prize to the other colts, the feeling of self- worth, he loved it.
Learning the incident had caused the couple to undergo a rather nasty divorce some weeks later wasn't all that fun, though. Yep, somehow he doubted that poor filly would enjoy her childhood very much.
Mac decided he'd digressed into his memories enough and brought himself back to the present. Stashing his bits and his saddlebags away in the closet, he closed the door and prepared himself for the rest of day's work. At least, he'd planned to until he heard a knock on the barn door.
''Hello?'' he responded, confused as to why any visitor would go to the barn instead of the farmhouse.
An amber earth stallion with a slick, dark-grey mane entered the barn; clearly a businesspony by all outward appearances. His cutie mark of three sacks of money suited him thus.
Of course, Mac thought irritably, it was somepony looking specifically for him.
''Well, Good Mornin' Mcintosh! I hope you're havin' yourself a good day so far?'' he smiled, almost innocently.
Big Mac wore a neutral expression and with a simple ''Eeyup'', made to fetch the bits Filthy Rich had no doubt come for. ''At least he came to you. Saved you the trouble, didn't he?''
The smaller of the two stallions took his dues gratefully and kept them there in his hoof, looking a few times between the sack of bits and his associate. Sensing Rich was about to waste his time further instead of leaving as was usual at this point, Mac interjected pre-emptively: ''Mister Rich, I'm real sorry but you know I ain't got time to talk. I'll have the next payment soon enough, don't worry none''.
Rich gave his usual slick smile. ''Come now, Mac. I really don't think I deserve all this cold treatment you give me now. Do you honestly think it ain't reasonable for a pony to ask for what's owed him?''
Eh, he had a point Mac guessed. Bit of a dick move in terms of timing, but sure it wasn't as if Rich had no right to his money. It mattered little to the red stallion at this moment in time. He shrugged. ''Ain't no cold treatment, sir. I got chores to do, see''.
Filthy's smile grew menacing. ''A stallion of your talents still humble enough to do chores all day? I'm mighty impressed, sir''.
That got Mac's attention. ''Scuse me?''
''Your sisters ain't here, are they?''
''Dunno, probably not''.
Rich's tone grew more serious. ''I'll cut to the chase, Mac. I was surprised enough to learn you'd tried to settle our debt yourself. Now you're stealing from ponies? I'm intrigued''.
When faced with a sudden, unexpected threat, Mac had learned to appear calm and unafraid; self-discipline came naturally to him. As soon as that last part exited the businesspony's mouth, however, he had to admit his adrenaline spiked. There was no subtle way about this. Filthy Rich surely suspected Mac's intent, but his proximity and the Apple stallion's clearly superior physical abilities meant Mac wouldn't have much trouble dealing with him before he could escape and the dirt on the ground was Rich's only potential weapon, which Mac knew well enough how to prevent. He knew he'd be on the run for the rest of his life, but right now he saw no other option.
Seeing the red stallion's hoof make a movement downwards, Rich backed off and loudly objected: ''Hear me out, Mac!''
Mac had already drawn his knife and was more than prepared to end his adversary; though by no means an experienced killer, his skills were more than enough to deal with the pony in front of him.
''For Luna's sake, calm down! What're you gonna do? Just kill him like that? Let alone the fact everypony would notice him missing right away-'' Alright, alright!
He supposed there was no additional risk to be had from at least hearing the stallion make his case. Mac nodded for him to continue, making sure Rich knew he wasn't letting down his guard.
''I just got back from the mail depot. It was innocent enough, I swear. Pickin' up a gift from a friend of ours''. He presented a small box as proof of this.
Not quite in the mood for a story, Mac felt his patience wear thin and he towered over, staring into the azure eyes with his own brilliant green ones. ''That don't concern me. What reason do I have to let you live? Speak quick, now!''
Rich scowled back at his aggressor (though part of his mind was indeed terrified). ''Well, the fact that you wouldn't last a week before the guard got you- let's think about that now''.
Mac brought his hoof down on the pony's front leg and Rich fell to the ground. ''I'm well aware. That doesn't help you''.
Filthy Rich gritted his teeth from the pain, but recovered quickly enough and looked up to his assailant. He paused and then grinned. ''I'll ignore that little transgression.
''Okay, so you know where I was going. Ms. Ditzy started goin' on about how she'd lost some money. I wasn't too interested at first but then she mentioned you and your little 'incident'. Sounded familiar. I remembered back a couple months ago: Rainbow Dash and some fella from the Wonderbolts came over to buy from your farm and she accidentally got served alcoholic cider instead of regular cider? Of course, everypony knows she can't handle a drink well. She cries all over town about how she lost her jacket. Almost got kicked out of the 'Bolts for that, I hear. Then the jacket turns up on the black market in Fillydelphia; official Wonderbolts merchandise, worth hundreds''.
''You think I got all day, do you?''
Rich sighed. ''Fine. If you promise never to raise a hoof against me again, I think maybe I got a way you could reduce your debts''.
''Blackmail? I think you're getting a little too brave now''.
''Nothing of the sort, my friend! Think of it as a deal. A way to ease our families' relationship, just like how it used to be. You prove yourself, maybe I'll even start paying you for it. Whaddaya say?''
''I don't believe you,'' growled Mac.
Filthy made to reach into his shirt pocket. Mac responded by flipping the knife grip and drawing back to strike downwards. He relaxed a little, however, when all Rich pulled out was a folded piece of parchment. Content there was no trick here, Mac took it from him and opened it, glancing between it and his subject.
''This is to confess that I, Filthy Rotten Rich, proprietor of Rich's Barnyard Bargains, Ponyville, am complicit in whatever illegal activity McIntosh of the Apple family, has henceforth decided to engage in, having solicited his involvement in said acitivity''. It was followed by his signature and looked convincing enough. Mac was still unsure.
''He wrote up his confession for your crimes, signed and dated it? This is just weird dude''. Yeah, but he found it convincing enough and practically speaking it would work. Paying off his debt was a pretty good incentive too. ''Uh-huh, the same way a fish has a 'good incentive' to take the bait from a hook''.
That was true, Rich certainly wasn't somepony Mac would deem trustworthy and this did come off as unusual. Then again, what better way to ask for Mac's trust did Rich have? It kinda made sense it that regard. Mac was not at much liberty in terms of choice either, he was the one who'd been discovered as a criminal, he was the one who owed the debt and now that he was thinking more clearly, killing his associate wasn't really a solution given he'd face legal consequences either way.
''Making a mistake, dude,'' the opposing side of his mind shook its figurative head. ''Keep what's left of your decency. You cross this threshold, you might not ever go back. You heard enough about how the 'Underworld' tends to work''. If he refused and kept trying to pay this debt off, it wouldn't exactly be a good alternative though.
The stallion's more distant and hesitant behaviour was noticed and Rich interjected: ''You okay, boy? You're awful quiet right now''. Mac returned to the situation at hand.
''Thinkin'. Not something I expected... so, now I have leverage and I should trust you. That what you're saying?'' questioned Mac, allowing his subject back to his feet.
Rich turned to face his opponent. ''Indeed. Think what you want of me Mac, but I ain't stupid and I know you ain't either. It might take a while for us to earn each other's full trust,'' he conceded somewhat sternly, ''but now we got dirt on each other and we both got something the other wants. Surely that's enough to get us started here?'' he slowly held out his hoof. Although he put away his knife, Mac was hesitant to shake on the offer.
''What you got planned?'' Mac inquired, holding up his hoof.
Rich frowned at this but soon softened back up again. He began walking around the barn slowly, looking about and pondering. After a brief pause, he turned. ''Alright, well... since we're sortin' through the details, you tell me something first. You ever actually killed anypony before, Mac? Till now, I'd never have suspected you had it in you''.
Mac hesitated. ''Twice,'' he grimaced, not wanting to remember.
Rich seemed rather amused. ''You really that disgusted by it? Now, I've never been involved in that kinda business- really, I haven't- but I recognize a natural when I see one. Now, I know you're gonna say it were just an act, you were tryin' to scare me, but I've met one or two rough sorts before and- ''.
''Where's this goin'?'' interrupted Mac impatiently.
''These two ponies you killed. What brought you to do it?''
''Fight that got out of control and an escape that didn't go how I meant it to''.
''Interesting,'' answered Rich, as if he were just musing over regular business . ''See, I need to know you got the right composure for the job. I ain't sure about somepony who kills cause they lost control. You're not the squeamish sort, are you?''
''Nope. Hang on though, you hiring me for a hit?''
Mac found the idea off-putting, he did have to admit. He was sure he could become accustomed to the personal ramifications of the act if needed, but assassination tended to be a risky business, solicited often by the most treacherous of ponies who would quite happily set the killer they'd hire up to take the fall, thereby avoiding both the consequences and having to pay out- Mac certainly could picture Filthy Rich as the sort. Not to mention it left a far greater impression on those involved than anything he'd done in the past and Mac did not like drawing attention where he could avoid it.
''No, no. Nothing like that. This first job's more of a bit of sabotage, a rival business of mine in Manehattan. They're still small but I reckon they'll grow.'' the pony explained. ''Thing is, maybe you'll find you have to kill somepony in the process. Hypothetically, see. Would that be a problem? Would I have to hear from anypony about it? Or can I trust you to deal with what I bring you?''
''I suppose so...'' Mac answered with uncertainty.
Rich wasn't impressed enough, it seemed. ''Now, Mac I will say right here that I'm gonna expect results and quickly too. I wanna hear you're serious, that you can get it done. I think this discussion's over now''. He held out his hoof once again.
''So, what'll it be? Yes or no?''
In spite of the more calculating side of his brain, Mac reluctantly held out his own hoof and shook on the deal.
Rich looked very pleased indeed. ''You just made a very wise decision, sir''.
''Signed your life away to be some rent-a-thug. Forward planning skills, dude''. It was only a hoof-shake though, not exactly a binding contract. ''Pa would'a disagreed''. Pa would've done a lot of things, his son being an outlaw for instance probably would've been something he'd want to address.
''If you say so,'' said Mac distantly, looking between Rich and the floor. ''Well, I'm still busy right now. You got further details?'' Rich shook his head.
''No, no, friend. This ain't work two ponies such as you and I just discuss,'' he gestured around him, ''not here anyhow. Be at Manehattan station one week from today: my associate will be there at about noon. Just wait once you're off the train and he'll approach you. I'll send him the word this afternoon. This kinda business is more his... expertise,'' he chuckled. ''Simple enough, am I right?''
''Eeyup''. '' 'Cept normally I kinda like simple plans''.
FIlthy Rich beamed at this. ''Excellent! I look forward to our families doin' business again, sir! I'll show myself out''.
''Eeyup,'' Mac muttered as the pony exited the barn.
Mac was an Apple farmer, not some lap dog for whatever kind of criminal mastermind Rich was professing to be. He had done things he wasn't proud of yes, he had acted immorally before and could do so again if needed sure but all he wanted was to get his life back on track so he could earn an honest living again. Now this? This was not where he wanted his life to go. He gave a deep sigh.
''Crap''.
(Present)
A cerulean mare with a rainbow mane, present in the large circular room of Princess Twilight's castle took a gasp and eyed Mac angrily.
''Wait, you stole my jacket?! That had all my medals on it, jerk!'' She leapt over and slapped his face with her hoof.
Mac recoiled from the impact, surprised that given the circumstances, that was something she felt the need to address.
''Uhh...sorry?''
''Oh, you will be sorry!'' She was engulfed by a magenta aura and lifted away from him by an annoyed-looking Twilight Sparkle.
''Honestly, Rainbow Dash, I really don't think this is a good time''. Dash pouted and folded her forelegs.
''What is going on here? Did Luna put you in a trance and now you're dreaming? This isn't what I'd expected''. Meh, that's just how Rainbow Dash was he supposed. Not quite as disturbed by the fact she was dealing with a hardened killer as the rest of them.
The Princess of Friendship deadpanned briefly, then returned her attention to her captive. ''I'm sorry to hear you went through that Big Mac, but I don't think it quite excuses what you've been charged with,'' she scolded.
Mac shrugged. ''No excuses, Miss. Just thought I'd come clean''.
Twilight raised her eyebrows. ''I see. So, if I remember the events correctly, this new 'partnership' didn't end up very well, did it?''
Mac smiled sadly. ''Nope...''
Some time earlier
Mac took in the scene before him: a grim sight. An amber coated earth pony lay on the ground before him, having expelled his last gasp of air and now by all anatomical standards, become deceased.
As usual, he had conflicting feelings about the deed- even now when it was too late to go back on it. Filthy Rich had been his patron and despite them not particularly liking one another, along with their occasional disagreements and differences, once Mac had settled into his role he found it most lucrative.
Rich had- mostly- kept his promise not to send Mac into anything too dangerous or unethical. Despite his questionable behaviour, Rich had appeared to be a family stallion with some sense of integrity as such- which made him and Mac rather alike in some ways.
Or so he'd thought until a few days ago.
The fact remained though: he'd robbed a wife and daughter of their father figure by his actions; he'd heard of the pink filly Diamond Tiara from his youngest sister. He knew she would never get over her father's death; it would be especially difficult given her age and upbringing.
''Damn it Rich, it didn't have to end like this.,'' he muttered under his breath.
It wasn't unjustified, he reminded himself as he hid the body in the nearest collection of shrubbery he could find and planned how he would flee the scene without drawing attention. The more self-reflecting part of his mind was being remarkably quiet on this one, he'd found. ''Don't worry, I'll tell you why you're an ass later, you've got better things to worry about right now''.
The well-kept Manehatten park he and his former patron had arranged to meet in for their ill- fated discussion was well-lit for Hearth's Warming Eve save for the particular spot he had been using for Rendez-Vous and navigation whenever doing 'business' in the city- moving with this level of discretion was fundamental in his line of work.
He knew from experience that the local police ponies didn't pay much attention to what went on in this part of town out of lack of necessity- this was one of the safer parts of town, after all; aside from the occasional petty troublemaker here and there, it was frequented mainly by decent- looking sorts: a wealthier sort of environment altogether.
Meanwhile, more poor ponies typically meant less educated ponies, more desperation and more crime- a matter of sheer nature, unfortunate as that was to admit. At least in his experience.
Mac doubted there was much risk of him being conspicuous here either, since it was a place where ponies often met to talk and he'd rarely venture out of Ponyville unless he was meeting somepony in particular.
It was an added bonus that the park was rather a pretty place to see. He loved trees (from his background as an Apple farmer he supposed), he admired the preserved natural beauty that surrounded the laid-out footpath. There were certainly far worse places he'd visited before.
It was a beautiful sight to behold at this moment in time; decorations, festive stalls and the local ice-skating rink were all active in the weeks leading up to Hearth's Warming. Ponies from all over had apparently come to enjoy the festivities, Manehattan's well- founded reputation as throwing one of the best Hearth's Warming celebrations in Equestria obviously attracting many of them. He'd only been here once at this time of year and that was back when he was still a colt.
The irony of his current predicament was not lost on him.
There was one obstacle presented to Mac: the large crowd from out of town meant the local police had to step up their patrols slightly. He'd noticed small groups (perhaps only two or three ponies) circulating the area on his way there. This could be countered somewhat by the mere chaotic nature of large groups of ponies, but it was wise to presume that ponies whose job it was to be peace-keepers would have some means of dealing with this, so he couldn't rely on it.
His immediate objective was to get to the train station- which would no doubt be full of other ponies at this time of year- without attracting attention and before anyone discovered the body. The various activities he imagined rowdy ponies got up to in a park at any time of year would hopefully distract the police sniffer patrols long enough for him to have a decent window of time.
So, what was stopping him? What dangers did he face?
Well, one of Mac's weaknesses, given this line of work, was his irregular size. Most ponies didn't have the attention span to pick him out of a crowd, but he stuck out enough so that if anypony was determined to find him, he'd not be hard to spot. In this instance, it presented quite a problem.
He didn't know how far he'd get without being spotted by an officer. It was safest therefore to assume the worst: that a patrol would bump into him as soon as he entered one of the busier areas and if he wasn't disguised adequately he'd be a suspect once they'd found the body.
The rather high-profile nature of murdering Ponyville's most prominent business owner (besides his sister's friend Rarity, of course) in a wealthy part of Manehattan, at a time of year when ponies expected particular decency from one another meant the authorities would likely investigate the incident as a matter of priority, which was potentially an issue. He knew the victim personally, which was an issue. Yeah, he was in trouble.
Thinking about the issues he'd have to contend with in future however would be pointless if he couldn't even escape the scene in front of him. Right now, it was easier to calculate his moves if he did so in the simplest way possible, one at a time.
Okay, so he needed either a disguise or a distraction. Blending in amongst the crowd would be a good-enough disguise if he had a decent distraction. So, that was his first move.
He looked around. The first thing that came to mind were how many local fillies and colts were hanging around in groups- obviously almost as keen to evade public attention as he was. He had an idea from his childhood what big city youths were like.
They weren't causing quite enough trouble to suit his purpose in and of themselves, he concluded, noticing that the most eye-catching sight was a teenage mare and stallion engaged in an indecent act while other colts watched gleefully.
The firecrackers he always carried as a tool of diversion would help him out here, he figured. It was about then his attention drew to three young colts (not even teens yet, by the look of them), hidden away slightly in a row of trees. He approached slowly, not making eye contact at first and keeping his movements open to interpretation.
As he drew near, he smelled that familiar tar-like substance in the air.
''Who the hell keeps selling kids this shit?''
He turned as if he'd only just noticed them. ''What's this? You guys think you're like, tough shit or something, smoking in the park at night?'' he mocked.
They didn't appreciate the taunting, naturally. ''Lay off dude, we didn't ask you what you think,'' one retorted indignantly.
''Go find some other little boys to hang out with, pedophile,'' another tried to have a laugh at Mac's expense.
''Real tasteful,''.
He grinned wickedly. ''Talking trash now? Oh crap. You guys are nothing but wannabes, you know that right?''
One of them scowled. ''What do you know, flank-hole? You look like a bitch to me''.
''I was gonna go piss off some pricks by lighting these babies up,'' he revealed the set of BlackCats he had with him. ''I'm funny, see? That's why I get laid all the time''.
''Yeah right''.
''Wow, you are stupid dude''.
''Yeah, that was pretty stupid dude,'' part of him echoed. Go away, this isn't the time.
''Guarantee none of you punks have the balls to do the same. Guarantee it,'' he taunted.
''Piss off, dumbass''.
''Oh come on, grow a pair. Ten bits each says you guys are too pussy to light these off where the cops can see''.
''What's the point of that?'' one asked, puzzled.
''Cause it'll be funny for me. Win-win, right?'' he offered.
Their interest in this was visibly picking up, but not quite enough yet. ''Make it twenty and you got a deal,'' one chimed. The other two expressed agreement at this. Mac didn't really care, since he had hundreds on him, but he figured the act would be more convincing if he bartered a little.
''Twenty bits a piece for causing a little noise? No, I'd say maybe twelve''.
''Fifteen''. Mac pretended to think for a moment. ''Alright then''.
He handed them the bits and the firecrackers. They wandered off somewhere. ''Remember, you're all fags if you back out!'' he called after them.
Mac prepared to exit towards the northern park exit; he remembered a block of restaurants, stalls and bars to the northeast- or more precisely, some of their customers- which were open late existed to the northeast. It would probably be suitable enough for him to slip by to the train station where he could board the next train home and do some planning.
This ruse he'd improvised wasn't the most inspired he'd come up with, but he'd had little to work with. Despite the rather grave circumstances surrounding it, it was kinda funny in a juvenile and silly way he supposed.
He was taking a gamble, he admitted as he awaited his opportunity. The colts could have just taken everything he gave them and ran off, perhaps laughing to each other about how gullible he was. He didn't have time to make any other arrangement however and he wanted to make sure they were happy enough he'd paid out his end of the bargain or they might decide to relay their conversation with him to the cops.
His only real hope was that because of their age, they were still impressionable enough to care if he thought they were a bunch of cowards.
The pause continued a little while longer. Suddenly, a series of bangs erupted from somewhere in the distance, in the general direction the colts had vanished to.
Sighing in relief slightly, Mac slowly made his way to the crowd as a few police ponies approached the source of the commotion. The ideal outcome there, he thought briefly, was that the colts would run as soon as they realized the cops were after them.
At least if they were apprehended, the whole notion that being a 'snitch' is something to be ashamed of- fairly common amongst city youths he understood- might keep them from ratting on him.
After a few minutes of moving carefully and dodging clueless ponies accompanying him in the park while taking care to not to stand out too much from them, Mac made it safely to the exit.
Three hours later:
Mac sat on the motel bed with a bottle of recently- purchased 'Punch Family Finest'' malt whisky and a highball glass on the table next to him- ironically, an old partner of Filthy Rich's, Mac even knew the mare whose family distilled it.
Mac sighed to himself, looking at his train ticket. Manehattan to Ponyville, adult, one-way- he wasn't going to use it until a couple days had passed, though.
Ideally, he needed to have left town that evening but unbeknownst to him, the trains had taken their limit of reservations for the night and if he left the day after, that would look suspicious if they began investigating him.
Actually, it was a pointless precaution to take: if they had already labelled him a suspect and could prove he was in town during the murder he was toast no matter what he did. The truth was, he wanted some quiet time to think about what happened next and to reflect on the day's events.
''Aww, I knew you just couldn't get by without me. What is it you'd like to talk about, champ?''
He took a swig of whisky.
Three hours and fifteen minutes earlier:
''Mister Rich. You never oversee my work yourself. This must be serious,'' Mac opened up, astutely.
''You're on the ball as usual, Mac''. Filthy Rich looked serious, genuine. He never opened a dialogue like this; his amicable and smooth-talking impression being his trump card in his dealings, something had to be wrong here.
Mac had expected this, but even he couldn't have prepared for the uncomfortable conversation he was sure this would be.
''You did the right thing- we're having this conversation because he's in the wrong, not you. Remember that''.
''The terms of our agreement were more than clear enough, Mac. The only way I think you'd do what they tell me you did is if you find issue with our partnership''.
Mac looked his master in the eyes. ''Eeyup. That weren't true till now. You been good to me. Me and the family are more than happy thanks to you. I can't do business with folks who go trafficking foals though. I thought you felt the same''.
Rich softened up. It was difficult to disagree with anything Mac had said. ''Mac,'' he sighed, ''morals don't matter in our work. You gotta think about yourself and your family, your friends. Whatever that means doin'. I don't need to tell you that''.
''Nope,'' the stallion agreed. ''That's why I put a stop to it. I thought: what if they come for Apple Bloom? Her friends? Foals of ponies I know?''. He observed Rich with contempt.
Rich scoffed at this. ''That's nonsense. I'd never let them near our town. I have family there too, Mac''.
''Yet, he's fine supporting folks who prey upon vulnerable fillies and colts- probably including his own daughter if they got half the chance'', Mac thought. ''That's how much he cares about family principles''.
''So, I did you a favor then. I know they wanted to expand- that's how they make more money, right?''
Rich rolled his eyes. ''Son, I arrange for these things to happen. Now, I think I know how to keep our clients under control''.
Mac glared. ''I was there, did the actual work. You supported monsters is what you did. That little filly you got at home? They had their way, she'd be nothin' but another target to them. Stole away and sold probably for-''
''Don't you say another word!'' snapped Rich, dangerously. ''I don't wish to discuss this further Mac. You'll make reparations for the damage you've done, drop the issue and act as I tell you to! Is that clear?''
Clearly he'd dug too deep. He tried a different approach. ''Yes sir, but just consider what I'm saying-''
''This ain't open for discussion, boy. You can agree to do as I tell you or we call it off. Altogether. It won't be on good terms though, let me tell you. You know too much otherwise,'' the older stallion threatened.
''Be reasonable. Can't we work somethin' out?''
''Damn right we can. We already did. You carry out my orders, I keep you swimming in gold. That's it''.
In fact, Mac had already made his decision and was just dragging out the conversation to get his target to drop his guard at this point. He didn't know why he'd ever harboured the thought that Rich would be convinced. Rich knew what he was getting himself and Mac into when he'd asked Mac to help keep the guard from investigating his newest business partner's little 'warehouse'.
Mac couldn't excuse it as Rich simply being scared that Mac had done damage to him or his business, either, not really. Sure tricking the foal-nappers and releasing all their captives while they were caught off-guard wasn't exactly profitable for the business venture, but he'd made sure the guards couldn't trace the operation to either of the two and even in the Equestrian underworld there were plenty of potential benefactors whose ethics at least surpassed the targeting of foals.
Hopefully those particular scumbags would get their due justice from the guards but since apparently his master would have no trouble in encouraging others into similar behaviour, he was just as guilty and there was only one way he could be stopped. ''Much as I'd like to contest it, for once you're totally right Mac''.
Mac pretended to be crestfallen. ''Sorry, Sir,'' he conceded, apparently in defeat.
Evidently not knowing Mac well enough to detect when he was being insincere, Rich simply kept his scowl and made to walk past the larger stallion.
Content nopony was there to witness, Mac sharply pulled Rich's leading hoof forwards with his teeth, wrenching him off- balance. Drawing a knife in his right foreleg, Mac stabbed up, cleanly severing the artery he was aiming for. Mac let the blood flow freely a few seconds and then threw his victim to the floor. The bleed-out was not immediate and although Mac prevented any sound escaping Rich's mouth, the pony's facial expression said it all:
''Traitor''.
Three hours and fifteen minutes later:
Although Mac supposed he and Rich had a little common ground and a decent business going between them, after learning what he had he felt actual sympathy only for the ponies the stallion left behind.
It made Mac feel less guilty knowing that even if he had let Rich live, his whole family would have had somepony who collaborates with foal-nappers at their head. Perhaps Mac wasn't so at fault after all.
''I wouldn't say that. You did have other options''.
What else would have worked though?
''Turnin' Rich in to the guard along with the other animals? You coulda gotten evidence of his involvement easy enough''. Sure, except he couldn't have done so without also revealing his own involvement.
''You're gonna get caught eventually, dude. Problem is, now murder and probably a bunch of other charges are on the list and that's assuming it's the guard who catch you. If you'd just come clean, the Princesses, your friends and your family woulda forgiven you eventually, I reckon''.
Well, he'd proven competent enough at evading the consequences so far, there was no guarantee he would be caught.
Besides, too late now.
''Yeah, agreed''.
Either way, he still had his own survival to think about here.
Provided he didn't have any trouble leaving town, the only problem he could foresee in the future was that he was linked to his victim. Surely by now someone had noticed the two ponies were doing business- had done business- together far more frequently the past year.
Well, the answer was clear enough: he needed an alibi. Easier said than done though, he realized, considering he'd need somepony to willingly aid a criminal and lie to the authorities for him. With Rich dead by his hoof, he doubted he could count on any of his former contacts- not that he was particularly close to any of them before either- and he had nopony else.
That brought up another issue: how long until his former allies put two and two together and came looking for him? They'd surely find him eventually, considering at least one of them knew where he lived.
On the other hoof, he was the most cunning and if pushed, dangerous pony Rich ever had access to- far as he was aware- and without the flow of money coming from their boss there was a chance they'd simply abandon the whole thing. He couldn't be sure.
Now, however, was not really the time to think about it. He was wary of how late it was getting and how important it was for him to remain alert in the next few days. He needed his rest. So after draining his glass, he replaced it and the bottle in one of the room's cupboards and got ready for bed.
Sometime around the middle of the night
Mac awoke sharply.
As much as he wanted to relax and enjoy his sleep he could adapt from a state of tired euphoria to an alert state in a heartbeat if needed- and unless housekeeping were having some trouble outside his door, it was needed. He got out of bed as quietly as he could, thankfully he'd only had the one cup before he'd gone to bed, so the drink didn't have any real effect.
Readying his knife, he decided to hide just behind his end of the corridor linking his room and the door.
He recognised the sound of somepony trying to break in when he heard it. He weighed up his options: did he try to escape, eliminate his foes quietly, take them head on? A combination of the three? He was trapped in his room, so clearly he wasn't going anywhere without a fight.
The trouble was, he didn't know who he was up against. He doubted it was the police since they would surely have announced their presence before breaking into his room in the middle of the night- his best guess was that Filthy Rich's other minions had tracked him down far sooner than anticipated. It would be too much of a coincidence for him to believe it was just some burglar- they didn't usually target random motel rooms anyway.
If it was a bunch of thugs from the local mob Filthy had bought services from, he was probably looking at three or four hostiles at most since any more would have drawn too much attention. If he could take one or two them out pre-emptively or just disorient the group momentarily, it hopefully wouldn't be too difficult to take out the rest and flee the scene.
He looked around for anything in his environment that could help him, but found nothing came to him immediately.
The bathroom was about halfway down the corridor and they could use that for cover if he tried to throw anything down at them.
If he was lucky he could take out one before the others detected him, but even that was unlikely; if they were in any way competent, they'd probably see it coming.
He was on the third floor, so not much risk of being attacked from both the door and the window- even if they had pegasi with them, it would attract far too much attention.
After some thought, Mac decided he didn't have enough information to act. What he therefore decided to do next was something he'd only use as a last resort, when no good alternative seemed feasible:
''Can I help you?'' he asked loudly.
The noise stopped and silence continued briefly.
''Housekeeping. May I come in?'' a voice responded.
''Wow, yeah these guys must be real professionals,'' he thought sarcastically.
''At this time of night? 'Fraid I don't believe you''.
The pony gave out an audible sigh of frustration. ''Mac, let us in. We need to talk''.
''I'm skeptical. When ponies need to talk, they just say so, right?''
''Something's happened. We've been lookin' for information about it and we gotta be careful who we trust. You know how it is''.
''Take it up with Mister Rich. You know I only answer to him,'' Mac baited.
''Well, that's just it brother. Sorry to say, but Rich was found dead a couple hours ago. Know you must be shocked, but it's true. Figured you could help us learn what happened. We don't think a guy like that just wanders into some dark streets and has heart failure, you know?''
''Celestia damn it. How'd they find out so fast?''
''Come on that ain't good enough. Stop tryin' to cause trouble''.
''I don't like you accusing me of shit like that. We don't lie about stuff like this dude. Us and Rich, we had a good deal goin'. That's why we wanna find out what happened''.
Mac scoffed. ''I'm his most trusted employee. I got a better idea than you. Be a good boy and go home''.
Mac's attitude finally proved too much for the pony and in his frustration, he responded: ''Did you think we wouldn't keep watch on Rich? You think he's just gonna sneak into town to see you and we wouldn't notice? Hell, after you stabbed him in the back once you didn't think maybe we'd not be so sure you could be trusted? Let me tell you Mac: if the guy hadn't insisted you were loyal to him and we didn't need to watch his back, you'd have been dead hours ago. Guess we were right, huh? Buckin' traitor!''
Since it was all in the open now and both ponies knew each others' intent, Mac decided he might as well press his aggressor and get a reaction.
''Eeyup. So whaddya want? Come to cry about it? Yeah, I'm smarter than you. I got him to trust me over you. Don't get jealous''.
''You're buckin' dead, you bastard! I got your number, you ain't escapin' me!''
Mac cackled wickedly. ''Why'd I wanna do that for son? You're hilarious''.
''Open the damn door, let's see who's laughin'!''
''You'll take one look at me and leave a mess on the floor. I'd rather not''.
''Yeah, you're nothing but a coward, you hear me?''
''No, no, I'll slide you the key if you want. You wanna stand there lookin' like a little bitch, be my guest''.
''Yeah, slide me the key and me n' my boy Bludgeon, we'll drop your ass!''
The hoodlum on the other side sounded like he'd well and truly lost his sense of reason; Mac could see no reason not to believe he'd genuinely let slip more than he'd meant to.
So, two attackers. It made sense that they'd assume it wouldn't take too many ponies to bring him down and like he'd already figured out, they'd be wary of how attention they'd be drawing to themselves- plus, he didn't really have a reputation for fighting.
That was about to change.
Mac slid the key down the hallway and under the door. ''There you go, son. No shame in pussying out last second''.
His assailant was so eager to get at him it seemed, that he actually missed the lock a couple times before finally undoing it and the door burst open.
Mac's taunting worked even better than he'd hoped, because immediately hooves scrambled down the hallway. One enemy was definitely moving faster than the other and Mac could see from the shadow on the wall that the mobster had foolishly put distance between himself and the other.
Having arranged the bedsheets appropriately, Mac had created the impression he was hiding behind his bed; it worked and an aura took the sheets and threw them aside- a grey unicorn stallion emerged from the corner, switchblade readied. He noticed too late the massive earth pony beside him- Mac had already taken his extended foreleg, twisted it outwards and slammed his head into the wall hard. Although he'd instinctively tried to cushion the impact with his other leg, the unicorn was knocked back and dazed by the force- Mac seized him by the horn and stabbing just below his ear, carved downwards to sever his artery and his windpipe. The hapless pony was thrown to the floor.
The second attacker (who Mac guessed was this 'Bludgeon' the other one had mentioned) wasn't far behind and with both hooves, lunged at Mac with a crowbar. Mac backpedalled and evaded the attack, ending up beside a sturdy wooden table.
His attacker, having regained his stance, went forward for another swing, which Mac countered by deflecting it onto the table. Bringing his weight down onto the jammed arm of his attacker, Mac swung around and bucked his enemy in the ribs, with an audible crack he was sent flying to the floor and coughing up blood. Mac soon put an end to the noise he was making by driving his knife through his eye socket- the pony twitched then went limp beneath him.
Present
Twilight Sparkle winced. ''Wow, that's... unfortunate''.
He grinned in spite of himself. ''Eeyup''. What was she expecting? A bottle fight? A graceful dodge and miraculous escape on his part?
''That would've been better, actually dude. You totally should've told them that''.
Magic users...
Of course, his carefree attitude towards this didn't give a good impression on his audience- an orange coated earth mare in particular standing behind the princess seemed a mix of mortified and furious, he noted. His expression dropped slightly.
Twilight drew his attention back to her after she'd regained her composure. ''I'm not sure I believe what you said about this 'foalnapping'
operation though. I'll need proof''.
Mac's eyes were drawn downward slightly. In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have done quite as thorough a job of covering up his involvement in that as he did. They did use a pizzeria as their 'cover-up' to ward off the guards after all- even just a dated invoice to show he was around at the time they were functional would've been... well, better than nothing at least. Hindsight was just wonderful.
''I got none''.
''Well, then I don't think giving this account will help you then,'' she pointed out, as if Celestia or any actual Equestrian court of law would care either way. ''Nope''.
''So, what'd you do next? Everypony was talking about that incident for weeks, how'd you get yourself out of that?'' Rainbow asked out of curiosity. The others made various signs of agreement.
''Oh boy''. Yeah, they'll really enjoy this next part.
A few years earlier
Big Mac stood back and looked at what was left of his latest deed. Blood and mangled body parts all over the bathroom walls and two fresh corpses in the bathtub. He'd found a serrated knife in one of the motel room's kitchen drawers and stupidly ventured into a brief career in 'surgery'- one that ended as soon as it started.
How he'd thought he'd clean up this mess without some form of strong acid anyway was lost to him now he'd thought about it. Desperation made you do stupid stuff, he supposed.
Although interestingly, he did learn EXACTLY where a pony's heart, liver and various arteries and veins and were located- he didn't know how useful that would be to know but it was pretty neat.
''Bucking gross. Okay, you are never ever getting into body disposal. Like, EVER again''. Celestia, the smell was a bit much for his tastes, that was for sure.
The situation as it stood, now he had to flee the scene fast as he could and now it was certain there'd be many ponies after him seeing as this now made it look more like he was some slasher with an erection for dissecting bodies rather than just somepony fighting for his own survival.
He couldn't use the shower, so he'd need to find a water source quick as possible to wash off the blood. Although his red coat blended in with the substance- unpleasant as that was to admit- the coppery smell would likely attract attention and that was if his pursuers weren't using tracker dogs.
No way two ponies as incompetent as these found him on their own, so he suspected he'd run into more when he exited the motel. He'd need to pick his location carefully: somewhere he could vanish from quickly, with a water source and an ideal location to fight off more attackers.
''The waterfront''. Huh, kinda exposed. Lots of ponies, probably lit up. He wasn't convinced.
''Close to where you are, plus you could probably take refuge in like a boathouse or a maintenance shed or something. Go down a few alleyways and through park. The only real danger of being seen is a road crossing or two''.
That was true, plus his attackers would likely be as keen to avoid attention as he was. Although the city itself never slept as the cliché went, the hotel lobby would probably not be all that active this time of night- save for one pony.
At that moment, a wave of doubt and anxiety overcame the red pony.
What he was going to do next was really going to be a test of how much he valued his freedom and self-preservation.
As predicted, the lobby was all but deserted, save one or two ponies returning from the bar.
The overall atmosphere worked to Mac's advantage- a supply closet within a suitable distance of the reception desk, the room was quiet enough, his current location behind the Hearth's Warming decorations was within perhaps ten yards of his target.
The mare who'd admitted him to his room, a grey unicorn mare with reading spectacles, was thankfully still on duty. She didn't seem all that with it at the time- in fact, she looked like quitting time couldn't come soon enough as she frowned wearily at whatever document she was writing up- but even if she didn't know it, she was a witness, she'd seen his face, assigned him the room within which two desecrated corpses would eventually be found.
Mac couldn't have witnesses. There was only one thing to do, it dawned on him.
''Sweet Celestia, what the buck are you-'' he knew what his more reserved self was going to tell him and he wasn't having it. He drowned out the voice, he was in danger now- a danger that would need to be addressed with all of the determination he had. Any kind of morality was a poison to him at this moment, it could only hinder him and would need to be cut out.
His prey wasn't budging. Whatever it was she was doing, it was taking too long and there was a risk of her seeing him where she was looking now.
''Stock for Hahth's Warming this year- nine hundred sixty two bits,'' she mused to herself in a strong Manehattan accent. She paused to yawn and narrowed her eyes to focus back on the paper. ''Components: hay fries, burgers, oh yeah brandy fer the kitchen...''
Mac was growing restless now. No distraction he could think of seemed both effective and subtle enough at the same time and the receptionist was wasting his time.
''Ugh, watta they put in hayburgers again? Just hay n' bread buns? Spices? I guess I gotta make a note ah them too...''
This wasn't working. He could overpower her even if she detected him, especially given her less-than-alert state but it would not only create more noise than he'd like, it would also result in him having to be quite brutal which even subconsciously he'd rather avoid.
''Where'd I put that list the chef gave me?'' he heard her say suddenly as she began rummaging around her desk. ''Perfect, get ready'' a new voice in his head came.
He watched as she searched her desk randomly. ''Too unreliable, need her to look away for a few seconds''. He watched with all the patience he could muster. ''Ah yea, in the drawahs''. She bent down and looked away from him in the process.
Mac began a zigzag movement for his approach, the carpet floor augmenting his stealth as he drew his knife. He kept his eyes on the center of the desk, not staring directly at either his target or the floor but observing both at the same time. He readied his attack- an icepick grip which he'd apply either to the base of the skull or just above the middle of her back. He timed each hoofstep consistently, not too slow to impede his advancement, not too fast to give himself away. Each step began with his heel hitting the floor first, stabilizing the rest of his hoof to land smoothly and quietly.
He was within dashing distance now. Just a couple more seconds.
''Here they are! Finally''. She sat up suddenly and having noticed him, she went wide eyed.
He snarled at this and charged the mare. Before she could scream, a large hoof went over her mouth, hitting her nose. He wrenched her head to the side and dazed her but having been prompted to gather her energy quickly enough, she began thrashing about trying to get some distance from her assailant, who she figured was surely about to rape her at knife point.
Familiar with how ponies naturally react to being assaulted, Mac positioned her so her sides were exposed. He flipped his blade to strike upwards and with impressive power, thrust time and time again into her spleen, ribcage and under her foreleg.
She made muffled screams and tears began flowing from her eyes as she jerked about, his vigor weakened for a second as guilt and remorse took him but he dismissed it and mentally forced himself to discard the notion and spit on it.
Mac was a predator now and the fact that his prey was vulnerable, unwitting and taken by surprise should only have made life easier for him.
Eventually, either his blade must have hit an organ or the pain, trauma and loss of blood became too much because her resistance came to a stop and she began to slip away.
He did his best to hide her behind the desk but the amount of mess he'd left behind meant it would be perhaps minutes before his act was discovered. He patted himself down and put his hood up before venturing out into the street.
The level of discipline required to move through a street when you know you're being hunted wasn't something that came natural to most- even for somepony with his experience, Mac had to force it into himself.
Now, however, he needed to perfect it for the first time as the city streets were not so abandoned as he would have liked. While he appeared to be as calm and uncaring as the bystanders around him, internally he was about ready to stab anything that moved.
As he used the sidewalk to make his way to his place of refuge, he tried his best to notice the ponies around him.
Sure enough, at least one of them seemed a little too interested, staring at him and only taking their eyes away for small intervals, just happening to want to go in the same general direction he did.
''Hostiles,'' his predatory bloodlust declared gleefully.
Even at this quiet hour, the crowd was too large to get an accurate idea of his enemy and he'd lose any element of surprise as well as risk becoming exposed in the middle of Bridleway if he paused to observe, so clearly an ambush at the waterfront was his only chance. Luck hadn't been kind to him thus far but now it seemed he'd need to count heavily on it.
He'd lost track of time, forgotten who he was, abandoned any senses he didn't need to both preserve his own life and end the life of anypony who dared challenge him. He didn't care how far he had to walk or notice any part of the environment that couldn't be used to his advantage. There was a road, a gate, some trees and finally a large river.
Perusing the location revealed only a bridge and a shack of some kind.
Inspecting the structure, he found that the small building was deserted and empty save for a few shelves which housed the usual assortment of tools- welding equipment, hammers, wrenches. Weapons, lots of weapons, he noted with a malicious kind of delight.
Having abandoned any hope of evading his enemy, he used a nearby rock to smash open the window, which provided just enough of a point of entry for him. Unless his foes were incredibly stupid, it was unlikely they'd follow him through the same entry point, so he undid the lock from the inside and pried the door open.
He waited and waited, his anticipation never cooling down. ''Come on, you plotholes, come try it...'' What in Equestria was taking them so long?
''Just have patience friend, they'll come eventually''. But despite how unusually helpful the voice in his head was being, his body was not used to this amount of excitement and fatigue at the same time. He'd gathered what courage and discipline he could but at some point he'd need his rest: if they took too long, he'd be in no state to resist them.
Which could have been intentional on their part, he realized. Paranoia began to seep in. Crap, not after all I've been through...
He heard voices and shadows began emerging from the treeline. He sighed in relief and prepared himself. ''Here we go...''
Of course, when a force was after him and likely outnumbered him, Mac hadn't been stupid enough to try to ambush them from inside a confined position with little mobility and no chance of escape. He'd already taken the opportunity to clean off any mess left behind from his previous little spree, so they wouldn't be able to use that to track down his exact location.
He observed numerous silhouettes investigating the shack from his vantage point under the bridge. Striking before he was sure all hostiles were in sight was unwise, of course- he observed as at least three ponies entered the trap he'd set. He emerged from the shadows.
One of them yelled from inside- likely from having tripped and landed on the pile of nails Mac had left for them. The other two hurried to aid their comrade and as he approached, he noticed another had been alerted and entered the scene to join up with the group.
Three earth stallions, one Pegasus mare with a nice, dainty figure compared to her allies- one which he doubted would withstand a projectile to the side of her head very well. He'd take her out first and then the others would have no chance of escape...
''Hang back, that might not be all of them!'' the thought came too late. He'd forgotten his surroundings and before he was within a suitable distance, a voice shouted: '' Look out, he's there!'' and he felt himself lifted from the air and slammed into the ground. Before he could recover, at least one of his opponents was on him and he began receiving multiple blows to his head until all he could see was the void.
