“Have you ever lost something so important to you that you’d do anything to get it back?”
That was the question the alicorn asked. It was a pretty deep question, especially when it’s asked from behind the black barrel of a .45 caliber pistol, the magenta streak of her purple hair stood a stark contrast. She needed to leave soon, bodies usually start to smell about ten minutes after death, and she hated that smell. Of course, she couldn’t leave before her question had been answered by the bald white human with squinty brown eyes. His hands were shaking, the bridge of his nose already turning a dark shade of red.
Not many humans had ever stolen from the purple alicorn. Even less lived to brag about it. She had been shot at, sure, even receiving a few grazing shots now and again, but thievery was a crime she hated more than that. Getting run over or stabbed seemed easier to deal with. One time she was even molested – not in the way you’d like to think, though. It was a woman with vibrant orange hair who mistook the alicorn’s horn for something else. That had been unpleasant for all parties, but it was just another memory of recent years spent among the humans. Recently, however, other memories were returning.
It was hard to forget, especially when your head was pounding like a deflated basketball against asphalt. It had been seven days since the headache had started. One long beating drum; never ending. It was all caused by some bald-headed punk who thought he could get away with stealing the most valuable thing in the universe. He wasn’t the smartest of humans, but she hadn’t expected him to be this stupid. She had hired him to deliver that which he stole, but you don’t steal from the universe’s deadliest purple talking horse without her finding out. Especially not when her sole purpose in life was hunting criminals like him for money.
Chasing him was barely sport. It had only been seven days since she started on his trail and she had already tracked him down to a single city. There was only one place he would have run off with her package. Ishmal, population over nine million. A dirty little town on the seediest planet known as Epsilon, out in the human territory of space known as The Milky Way. She knew the city, it had been where she recruited him, after all. She hadn’t expected him to be dumb enough to return to Ishmal, thinking that the source she received was wrong. The bald man hadn’t gone to any of his usual whereabouts, hadn’t shown face to anybody that knew him, and hadn’t tried to sell her goods on Ishmal’s black market.
But there was always someone who messed up. Humans were like that. The human factor, they liked to call it. The bald man had helpful friends who were a lot smarter than he was, and that’s why it had taken seven days. Tracking the movements of his little crew, busting down doors, and putting hooves to throats took a while. She was used to it, though. She’d been doing it for years. What was another few days?
Of course, planets always seemed to know whenever she was around, making it difficult to be discreet with her movements. Being the only talking horse within the entirety of the universe was still a novelty to some people, regardless of how many centuries passed. One day they would read the paper over their morning cup of coffee and see that she’d been found dead, and some would even mourn the universe’s loss.
On that first day of hunting, her head was only a small throb in-between her eyes and the back of her neck. That doesn’t seem so bad to most, but it had caused her to snap at a man who talked too much. Twilight Sparkle had been enjoying the serenity of a human bar all by her lonesome, the way she liked it. “Hey, can I get a puff of that?” the man had asked. He had sat down next to the alicorn as she was sipping her iced tea. It was unsweetened, like any sane person. The chatter of humans shouting at the high-definition television cheering their favorite sports team had almost drowned the man’s question out. At least, that was the excuse she’d use if need be, trying her best to ignore him.
When he asked again, Twilight Sparkle turned her sharp eyes towards him. Another young punk, she judged, licking her lips. “No,” she answered, careful to keep the plastic piece within her mouth as she spoke. She had dropped her vape plenty of times and was being careful not to shatter another one. “It doesn’t even have any nicotine.” She blew a puff of white smoke into the air, levitating the electronic, nicotine-less vape down into her coat pocket.
“That’s a shame. Could really use a fix. You hear about Avitas? They say the whole planet burned within a day.”
Everyone’s heard of Avitas, she begrudged, hoping her silence would sway him to move on. It didn’t.
The annoying man seemed to think the same thought, as he said, “Been almost a year and they never figured out what happened. Guess weaning yourself off with e-cig’s is a smart decision. Unless they find some damn tinfoil wearing nutjob who kept a bunch of tobacco seeds in his mom’s basement, it’s the only option. You ever been to Earth? From what I hear it’s got some nice green fields and beautiful blue oceans. If it weren’t a ‘historic planet’ they could plant there and-”
“Listen, schmuck,” she cut him off, “I don’t give a Celestia’s flank about your small talk or your Earth. Go find someone else to bother.”
Of course, the kid wouldn’t have been truly annoying unless he asked, “What’s a Celestia?”
What’s a Celestia? That question rang in her head for a moment as she tried to picture her old mentor’s face. It had been so long since she had seen it, much less tried to picture it. The headache that pounded her mind was bringing back a flood of memories with each tap against the back of her eyes. “Get out of here before you meet her,” she answered, brandishing a compact pistol that was hidden within a different coat pocket. Humans never expected a gun to come out of seemingly nowhere as if the alicorn could somehow hold a human’s handgun with her hooves. That had been this human’s mistake too, but he was smart enough to back down and walk away.
Wearing clothes made it easy to conceal weapons, along with carrying the human currency of paper bills and plastic cards, which she used to pay before the annoying brat decided to come back with friends. Clothing was a commodity that helped her fit in with humankind, but it wasn’t easy to get an ensemble, much less one that was custom fitted for a talking horse with wings and tail. Tough denim pants, a simple shirt, and coat. It didn’t matter if the colors matched, though Rarity would have argued it did. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of Rarity, she mused.
Forgetting things was easy, but the headache made it difficult. Most of her old memories had been replaced with other, more current, commemorations. It hurt to remember things that hadn’t surfaced for over a century. But that’s what the headache was doing, every throb brought back another memory, splintering her mind into pieces. She needed what was stolen from her – that would help with easing her mind to focus back on her work.
Hunting humans wasn’t an easy profession, and it hadn’t been her first. The humans lacked magic but made up for in technology, production, and biomedicine. She had learned all about them, giving information about herself in return. And of course, she also learned how to use a gun. She had to – magic doesn’t work on humans. She gave up trying to discover why a long time ago. Metal bullets were faster, more accurate, and unlike humans, she could levitate a gun. You’d think that’d make humans afraid of her, but humans are a superficial bunch. They think nothing purple and short can hurt them.
Like humans, guns were numerous on the seedy planet of Epsilon, and they were needed. When your stupid friend breaks a deal with the universe’s deadliest horse, you need to be prepared with your own arsenal. Especially when she’s got a lethal headache that causes her to make ruthless decisions. On the third day of her shipment being stolen, she had already taken three hot showers to try and relieve the hammering. When that hadn’t worked, she tried a cold shower, but that just slapped her awake.
Epsilon wasn’t the cleanest of planets, but the water was pleasant enough. She had to remark at the beauty of the sea on that third day as she stood on some hotel’s roof. The bay held plenty of ships marked for other harbors, but the bald man’s friends were still here in Ishmal, and so she knew he was too. She could see some half naked human children playing down by the shore, their mothers not too far off. The ocean waves sung for the kids, only to be overwhelmed by the horn of a cruiser or a honk from a hover car above.
The salt flying off the sea seemed to agree with her, or perhaps she enjoyed the fresh air above the smog from the rest of the city. She couldn’t wait to be done here, she was aching to find the bald thief. Even as she glanced away from her scope to look at the bay, she knew he was here. I’m going to kill him when I find him, she decided as she glanced back at the lens. Arresting him was a kind gesture, but her head was throbbing. Still, his friends didn’t need to die if they could help it. Even as she looked down the scope of the 7.62 caliber rifle at the skinny brunette woman enjoying her cup of coffee, Twilight Sparkle knew she could stop herself. She didn’t, of course, but she knew she could have, and the cruiser’s horn was making the perfect cover noise.
It was a simple tactic that Twilight Sparkle had learned over the years. Take down a right or left hand to cause some panic for the boss, making their organization’s movements sketchy and erratic. It helped that the skinny brunette held out her pinkie finger whenever she sipped her coffee. Twilight Sparkle hated that. “Look at what that stupid purple horse can’t do,” is what she imagined humans would say as they extended their pinkies. Or perhaps that was just the excuse she made to not think of another Pinkie. She wouldn’t have to think, or remember, had it not been for the massive headache that resonated within her skull.
On the fifth day, after the massive quake that left her enemies open, they decided to lay low. That or the rain had forced them all inside. It didn’t stop Twilight Sparkle. She enjoyed puffing her nicotine-less white smoke into the air, watching as rain tore through the poufy cloud. It was also fun to watch the spacecrafts navigate overhead, attempting to fly and land within the storms. Her wings made excellent umbrellas, and her clothes caught the rest. She hadn’t had a chance to change, not that she had even brought extra clothes to Ishmal.
She hadn’t seen the bald man yet but had recognized some of the cohorts that he dragged along to meet her when she recruited him. They had been exiting and entering their quaint warehouse at the edge of the bay all night, gathering up their forces as best they could. They hadn’t settled till the rain began to pour, and Twilight Sparkle didn’t mind waiting. The night time rain made it easy to set up everything she needed to do, and the morning grey skies helped in scouting every corner of the warehouse.
Why had they picked such a bleak looking warehouse on the edge of the shipping yard in the shadiest part of the city? Simple: the dock managers never checked it. Whether that meant they were paid off or just didn’t care, Twilight Sparkle didn’t know. It was just as grey and large as any of the other warehouses. Two entrances on opposite sides of each other. A broken down forklift sat to the side with some wooden pallets lying around it. A row of windows just below the roof rounded all the way around the hideout.
When she was sure none of the inhabitants had left, she levitated a set of heavy barrels against one door and traipsed around the building to the only other exit. Her hooves were soaking wet, but she didn’t mind. Shoes were the one thing she didn’t bother wearing. It allowed her to feel the environment around her. The cold, wet cement that led up to the steel door of the warehouse, the copper knob that she magically unlocked, and the rough coir welcome mat that sat on the other side of the door. The doormat seemed out of place within the warehouse, much like Twilight Sparkle.
It had been long abandoned by any reputable shipping companies, though the new ‘owners’ had their own crates meant for shipping. Drugs, most likely, or bootleg technology. The place was more meant as operations, however, with a few couches sat against the furthest wall from where she entered. There was even a kitchen that was originally the supervisor’s office. That’s where the first human who saw Twilight Sparkle had been, staring from the glass-less window as they washed out a bowl.
The dripping water was drowned out by the sudden bowl smashing within the sink, the human’s panicked scream, and the firing of a .45 caliber bullet. The humans that had gathered on their couches, watching whatever was on TV, had heard it all, some even saw it happen, their mouths open in shock. As the human behind the empty glass window fell, another staggered to their feet to fire back. Twilight Sparkle had to smile, they’ll put up a fight at the very least.
Quickly aiming to topple the alicorn, the humans took cover behind the contraband crates as Twilight Sparkle did the same. Her head barely reached most human’s bellies, making their waist high cover vastly superior for her. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, life wasn’t fair for the human who ran against Twilight Sparkle. All the technology life had to offer wasn’t nearly as good as magic. While they had to pop up over their cover, the alicorn simply levitated her pistol and a dirty old mirror. Using only four bullets she managed to take out a third of their firing force.
She hadn’t expected them to get clever, though. The warehouse suddenly went dark, and the only light available was that of the sun’s ray that crept through the grey overcast from the windows that surrounded the top of the warehouse. The windows made no difference, it was too difficult to see in the darkness, much less shoot. But Twilight Sparkle was an alicorn from a world vastly different than that of common street thugs. Within the darkness, a spell emitted from her horn, casting light from her position, brightening the entirety of the warehouse.
It made a prime target for those that wanted her dead.
The humans steadied themselves, moving in as quietly as they could. They surrounded her from all the possible sides, leaving no room for her to escape. When they were sure they had her, they popped from their covers and pointed their weapons, all trained on the white light emitted. But the alicorn just smiled, sitting peacefully against the wooden crate that was filled with Celestia knows what.
They had no time to react.
Glass shattered overhead and three of them went down, then two more. For all the magic she had, some technology was still pretty sweet. From a separate roof, a 7.62 high caliber rifle with hollow point bullets, operated by a basic targeting computer, signed their warrants. All she had to do was get them to crawl out from their little living space and into the light.
One of the humans that had been shot, she didn’t know which one, was still alive at the end of all the action. She found a bullet wound passing through not one, but both of his hands, leaving him to writhe in pain. She hadn’t even heard him shout from all the shooting. His suffering was ended once he told her exactly where to find the thief’s location. Dying men don’t lie, not if Twilight Sparkle can help it. Perhaps it had been one of the few times the wounded man had ever been truthful in his life.
Two days later she found herself in an alleyway that was so off the beaten trail that she wondered if she had been duped. Her head was aching so badly that even a cat’s meow sent a sting through her eyes. She was eager to be done with the city, to have what was hers. Dark tan walls led her through the city’s roughest passages. Men shouted derogatory words to women who seemed to enjoy hearing it. The salty smell of the bay was traded for smells of blood, cheap deodorant, and urine. Of course this would be where she would find the thieving bald man with his squinty brown eyes, outside of a tavern, pissing on a corner. He hadn’t seen her yet, but she wanted him to.
Traipsing out from the shadows, her purple hair bobbing up and down, she pulled back the slide of her pistol to make the cocking noise. He had been fearing that noise. The bald man quickly ducked inside, shouting for help from whoever he thought could save him. It had been too late, of course. Twilight Sparkle kicked the door down and gave a few swift mercy shots to the men that the bald man had ordered to kill her. He was the only one left, his bald head reflecting what little light the seedy back alley pub had.
“I-I’m sorry!” he screamed, falling on his ass and scurrying against a wall, her black pistol pointed at him, smoke rising from the barrel. “I-I’ll do anything, give anything! You want mon-money? I’ll get’chu some!” She smacked him across the face with the butt of her gun, causing a bloody nose on the helpless bald cretin. He tried to choke up a response, but it was muffled by his hands as he held the bridge of his nose.
“Shut up,” Twilight Sparkle replied, her head was hurting as bad as it ever had, making her rationally angry. “Where are they?” she demanded of the thief, threatening another hit from the levitating pistol.
The bald man was holding back tears. Pathetic, she thought, sneering down at the cowardly man. “P-Please, don’t kill me,” he begged, “I-I’ll give you what you want!” He was slow to move his hand to his coat pocket, pulling it back just as slow as to not threaten the menacing purple horse. In his hand sat a small white rectangle with some red logo plastered on the plastic front. Twilight Sparkle had never been more relieved to see such a thing.
“Have you ever lost something so important to you that you’d do anything to get it back?” she asked him, still holding the pistol’s barrel to his face.
He never got to answer.
When she stepped out of the pub her head was already becoming light as a feather, and she felt truly happy. The unwarranted memories of a life she had lost long ago slowly drifting away with the smoke of her cigarette. For a moment, nothing else mattered aside from the white, tobacco-filled, unfiltered stick in her mouth. It tasted awful, but there was nothing else like it in the universe. Especially now that Avista’s gone.
As she stepped out of the back alley a small, red hovercraft landed down in front of her. It had no roof, and so she could see the black man sitting in the driver’s seat. Half his head was shaved, while the other half was covered in dreads. His pearly white smile stared back at her.
“You found it, I see,” the black man said, almost like a compliment, but Twilight Sparkle knew better. Danny Villa wouldn’t be happy unless he had a thirteen digit bank account. “All this over a pack of cigs. I’ve told you a hundred times to break that awful habit.” He was greedy, neurotic, and a clean freak, and he was her partner, platonically speaking. “Maybe now we can get back to the bounties?” he said as a statement, not a question, as Twilight Sparkle hopped into the passenger seat.
“Yeah, sure, why not,” she replied, still feeling the euphoric effects of the nicotine entering her bloodstream. She couldn’t say whether she was happy to see Danny or not. He was a greedy man, but he was honest about it, and she liked that. It reminded her of someone else, but those memories were fading. “Got any one in particular?”
“Small fries. You know, if you sold your smokes we’d be rich,” he complained, his muscular shoulders shrugging as the hovercraft took to the air. “We’d be able to afford the ship a new engine capacitor, and maybe replace this old boat.” He patted the red siding with a thick hand.
She had to laugh at that. “And I’ve told you a hundred times, the only reason I do this is to get smokes.” The tobacco-filled tube held tight between her lips as she spoke, the remaining fifteen tucked away in her coat pocket.
“Right, right,” he replied, waving his hand as if to dismiss her entire argument.
“Anyway, we should take a trip to Earth. I hear it has nice blue oceans. It might be nice to see.”
“Geez, Sparks, did your little vacation make you sentimental? Seven days in Ishmal usually makes people broke, not broken. You get a concussion or somethin’?”
Twilight Sparkle leaned back in her seat, placing a foreleg on the arm of the door, her eyes closed. “Nah, my head has never been clearer.” She smiled. She didn’t think about Ponyville, Celestia, or ponies. Instead, she thought about all the money she’d be needing for the next pack. That, and never trust the postal service.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please give it a like or favorite to let me know you might want to see more! This was just a small one shot that I wouldn't mind taking further, just so long as it gets support. Thanks again! 
