Chapters Fall of Equestria: Halcyon
A society burned before the eyes of an earth pony.
Standing on the hillside a ways away from the horrors, she fell to her knees, feeling the mud seep into her pants. Her breath caught itself in her throat, and she held it until she sobbed. Tears rolled down her face, coming in waves, dripping off her chin. Everything she thought she knew was over, and hopelessness settled into the pit of her stomach.
The imagery before her will always haunt her in the shadows. Bulky, antlered brutes overpowering ponies, mares and stallions alike. The women were undressed, some were raped. The native men were helping. It was a sight beholden to one still struggling with the implications of all this. Ponyville was just another bump along King Dainn’s road now.
It would be easier to run back to her birthplace in Abyssinia. Barring the thievery and the killing, at least there she had a fighting chance. But Equestria is in her blood, whether she likes it or not. She wiped the tears off her face and took a deep breath.
Several minutes of silence passed before she parted her lips. “I’ve seen them bleed,” she whispers. “Thusly, they can surely be killed.” Anger replaced her sadness. “So why aren’t any of you fighting back?”
The earth mare finally stood and backed up, slinking into the treeline and out of sight.
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Three months before Equestrian invasion.
Brink, Abyssinia
“Come on,” the cat groans, half-pleading with a disinterested vendor. “You know I’ll pay you back, I’m good for it!” The literal and figurative beggar was a calico feline, the white belly stretching up his torso and neck, stopping at his chin. Long brown hair fell down his back, tied into a tight ponytail. He wore green cargo shorts and a dirty white t-shirt, enough to cover him without throttling him in the desert sun.
The dry food stand he was at was on the main street, flanked by an alleyway. Clotheslines hung above them, joined by large awnings made of leather or cloth above the stands to keep them out of the sun. Brink was a largely feline-dominated town, since tourism wasn’t popular there. It was similarly looked down upon and deemed dreadful to visit. Much like anywhere else in Abyssinia, apart from mercenary and pirate hives such as Kludgetown.
The vendor was a white cat, obese in every way possible with a long white beard. “I told you a thousand times already, no,” he returns in a gruff voice, slightly slurred by the cigar in his teeth. “I don’t front any of my product. Cough up money or leave.”
“You can trust me! I get paid-”
“Fuck off , Gus. If I do it for you then I have to do it for everyone else. Come back when you have money.” He took the cigar out and ashed it, blowing smoke in the other cat’s face. This was his final warning for the calico to get outta there.
“No need for all that,” said a new female voice. “I got it, Gus.” The pony walked up and dispensed a few Abyssinian coins, tossing the loaf of bread to Gus that he was clearly after.
After catching it and grinning, he started walking back, turning once he saw the mare walk up next to him. “My favorite horse in all of Abyssinia, come to save my hide once more. What’re you doin’ up this early, Night Tempest?”
“It’s midday,” she answers, tying down the coin purse. “I was looking for you, actually. I need a hand, and now you owe me for the bread.” Her emerald eyes rolled over to Gus, who was halfway through the loaf when he paused to look over.
“Oogh Agh Aghf-”
Tempest raised a hand and interrupted him. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done.”
Gus choked down the mouthful and cleared his throat. “Do I have to do it now? Ya can’t save it for later, or?”
“Nope.” She smiled knowingly. “Trust me, I’m not looking forward to it either, but at least we can be in each other’s misery throughout the ordeal.”
Gus sighed. “Alright, fine.”
She sensed his unease. “Tell you what, after this we’ll count the last job even, eh?”
The feline hummed at that, satisfied some debt had been lifted off his shoulders as he inhaled the last of his snack. Finally he nodded, waving goodbye and sauntering in another direction.
“Good. I’ll see you tonight.”
The dry heat was eventually replaced by a brisk cold. Night fell and Luna’s moon climbed into the stars, casting its luminescent glow over the barrens. Curtains were moved from the windows of the shanty houses and the town lit up with the fires of its inhabitants. Anywhere you looked, smoke was trailing into the sky above. Most of the town’s buildings were at least two stories, some were higher. Cheap wood and metal, all amateurishly fashioned together by an ignorant and impoverished people.
Brink had its own reputation for crime, home to killers and thieves alike. In between lived those just trying to survive, having no better alternative, no money to fund an escape to safer lands. Night Tempest was certainly one of the city’s many scum in her own right, chained to the town’s bad habits by birth. She was in on Brink’s inside joke - you can leave at any time, if you have a few feet of rope.
Night Tempest wrapped her duster around her body. She chose one that was light tan in color, figuring it could make an alright camouflage. The mare occasionally reminded herself not to drop it in the sand, or she may never find it again. Under that was the usual - long-sleeved forest-green shirt, black pants, black boots. It matched her dark fur, a color you generally didn’t see on ponies. Her mother seemed to think she got her color for her birthplace, implying the happy-go-lucky spirit of Equestria gave Equestrian ponies their bright palettes.
Tempest herself always just nodded, but she thought that sounded ridiculous.
She would have been nigh-invisible in the dark, if not for the flowing white mane. Her tail twitched under the coat, brushing the dust on the ground. She was crouching, leaning against the wall, staring boredly skywards with a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. Time seemed to crawl, as if it held a grudge against those who were impatiently waiting.
The sounds of gentle, distant chatter were cut by the sound of Gus’ voice. “Temp, you ready?”
“Yeah,” she answers smoothly, standing flicking the last little bit of her cigarette to the side. “Right, you remember everything we talked about the other day?”
“Eh… Might need a recap. I was drunk.”
“Christ,” she breathes unhappily, crossing her arms. “Okay, Taskere Drin is in that bar,” she gestured to the tavern across the street. Lights on, cats of varying shape and size inside - standard tavern crowd. “All we have to do is follow him, sneakily, and get him home safe. We both know nobody is going to fuck with him-”
“This is gonna be so fuckin’ boring.”
“Yeah, I know. But the dude thinks it’s worth paying a hundred bits to follow him and make sure he gets home.”
Gus heaved a mighty sigh. “So now we wait for this paranoid fuck to stumble out of the front doors and drunkenly wander through town until he gets home.”
Tempest tried for optimism with a dismissive shrug. “Maybe he won’t be too fucked up.”
The mare spoke too soon, or perhaps at the perfect moment. A grey tabby struggled out of the bar, very carefully watching his steps and muttering to himself. His head slowly rotated until it pointed in the vague direction of his house, wherein he twisted his body to line up with his nose and began walking. Walk was a powerful word in this context, what Drin did was more akin to an endeavor.
The mare wanted to chuckle, but it was a painful reminder that they would be dealing with this for hours. “Let’s look at it this way,” she whispers, nudging Gus. “We’re being paid to walk around town for a while.”
“I don’t know,” the cat responds grimly. “Doing nothing is a lot more fun when it’s on your own accord.”
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Hours limped by like days. Taskere Drin was lost, consistently passing out, stopping to vomit, and getting preoccupied with other women on the street. A lifetime might have come and gone before he finally wound up at his front door, fishing around for his keys. Gus and Tempest, weary of the excruciating night, were looking around the corner, waiting anxiously for him to step inside and close the door behind him. That was all they needed to seal the deal. Drin was famously good for his word, and folk tried not to play him dirty in return for his clean record. All he had to do was step inside, and the money was theirs.
His hand escaped the dungeons of his coat with a key in hand, and with careful consideration, he began jamming the lock until the tip went in. The moment it did, his eyes closed for the final time, and his limp, snoring form fell against the door and slid to its knees.
“Dammit,” Gus curses lowly. “We have to move him.”
“Doesn’t the violate the ‘be subtle’ rule?” she asks, cocking a brow and glancing over.
“You’re convinced he’ll remember?” the cat asks sassily, already walking over. Temp followed with a grunt. The pair closed the distance between them and the tabby with a light jog, Tempest being the first to twist the key. It clicked, and the door started to give way.
Gus threaded his arms over Drin’s, lifting him by the shoulders with the crooks of his arms. “Feet,” he orders quickly, the weight putting some strain on him. “Guy’s got a hell of a beer belly.” Night Tempest grabbed him by the calves, heaving the dead weight to support the calico and helping him carry the drunkard inside.
“On his belly,” he says next. “If we’re lucky he’ll think he came in and passed out on the floor.” He pulled the key from its lock and carefully set it in Drin’s hand, giving him the appearance of having done all this work himself.
The earth pony wiped her hands on her pants, backing out and looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was around. “That wasn’t so awful now that it’s over,” she concedes, getting back into a better mood. It had been a significantly long night, and she was looking forward to going to bed. She stretched, yawned, and patted her friend on the shoulder after he closed the door. “Thanks Gus, I appreciate you tagging along.”
“You kinda used my debt against me,” he says with a soft smirk.
“What, me? No, I’m a good friend, you could have bowed out. It’s genuine.” It wasn’t genuine.
Gus just laughed. “Alright, Temp. Drop by my place if you got any jobs or something to curb the stillness.” He put his hands on his pockets and arched his back, groaning.
“I might. I might come by and drop off the cut of your pay anyway. See ya.”
They departed, offering little more than waves. There wasn't anything else to be said between them. A simple understanding betwixt one another is defined by a long history of keeping their noses out of one another's ass succeeding a shitty work night.
Night Tempest’s home was the same as any other in Brink - one bedroom, a small area for preparing food, the odd pillow or maybe even a sofa to furnish the place. They’d all heard of Equestria’s poverty line; the lowest of the low had at least a house made of brick and running water. If that was poverty, they rationalized, Abyssinia must be a shithole. These citizens, however, made the most of it.
She grabbed an apple and went straight to her bed, undressing and digging everything out of her pockets. With only panties left, just grey enough to be told apart from her fur, she got the fireplace started. Stoking the flames until they grew, lazily taking bites from her breakfast. The sun would be rising in an hour or two, and when this occurred to her she grabbed a cup of dirt and killed the adolescent flame with it.
“No sense in having a heat stroke in my sleep,” she mumbles, walking back over to her bed and crashing into the cushion. The nibbles got slower and slower as she got sleepier, before it slipped from her weak grasp. Fuck it, might as well sleep.
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Tempest’s half-naked body slammed into the mud, knocking the breath from her lungs. She rolled immediately, knowing a caribou stun baton was not far behind. The mare heard it strike the muck, and the telltale curse of the male trying to subdue her. The second she heard, she reared both legs and kicked behind her as hard as she could, hoping to connect with him. Much to her glee, she had bucked his legs out from underneath him, and another curse accompanied the splash of a heavy body hitting the mire.
She was on her feet again in no time, backing up and raising her fists. “Come on big guy, I thought you said I was just a weak little slut?” There was always time for snark. Always.
The caribou got to his hooves and snarled. “You’re gonna wish you were dead, bitch. I’ll make sure your collar matches your fur.” His battle buddy was several feet away, unmoving. Not dead, something Night Tempest considered a failure on her part, but he was at least incapacitated. That, however, was costly on its own. The mare ended up with a bloody lip and bruises, and what she suspected was a broken finger. He had even kicked her in the thigh where her cutiemark was, treating the white crescent moon like a target. It didn’t matter, the pain kept her focused on the task at hand.
The caribou still standing was feeling rightly humiliated, and started thinking with his head instead of his rage. “How have you gone this long without a collar anyway?” he spits, raising the baton to a defending posture and inching towards her.
“I’m not from here,” she answers bluntly, inching back in return. She kept a careful eye on his movements, looking for any twitches or telegraphs. She had used the first guy’s stun baton against him, which was a simple solution, but it certainly wouldn’t work a second time. Temp needed a new plan, quickly.
Guy Number Two knew she was a little more nimble than him, and had the strength and determination of a soldier. Something told him she’d been fighting all her life. Doesn’t matter now, just get her taken in. He darted forward, eliminating the gap between them in the matter of a second.
The mare was only fast enough to duck and fall into a roll, the baton missing her by mere inches. She was on her feet again right by his back, seeing him twist his body to try to hit her with the baton again. At least, that’s what she thought he was doing - as Tempest threw her bodyweight, using everything she had to crash into him, she felt his elbow hit her muzzle.
Stars danced in her vision and she was on her ass before she realized what he’d done. Everything was blurry, the sudden impact dazed her. The precious seconds it took her to think about moving again were long enough for the caribou to jab the baton into her belly.
Author's Note
Would like some community outreach as I go along. Wanted to get this on the site before I start writing more. If it flops, ya know. No need for wasted effort. Enjoy, etc.
Note: Night Tempest has been around for way longer than Tempest Shadow, but Night Tempest is at least her God-given name, not a name she made up for herself. Gus is somewhat inspired by Capper, but I've tried to give him a more unique character. One trait they both share is that 'I live in a shitty place' vibe one would get from their story and the way they see their homes.
Fall of Equestria: Halcyon
Gus awoke from his slumber, drifting clumsily into consciousness. The first sensation he felt was dampness, leading him to experimentally run his hand down his belly. His fur was caked in a thin layer of sweat. It occurred to him he maybe should have just stayed up and went to sleep when it was cool outside, but it was too late. With a low, grumbly moan, the cat got to his feet and started outfitting himself with comfortably light clothing.
In his groggy state, his mind started wandering. As much as he was convinced that there wasn’t any to leave Brink alive, he, and others like him, held out for the chance to finally escape. Some days it was all he could think about. He was obsessive in comparison to others, constantly dreaming up scenarios of sitting on a porch in the gentle breeze, maybe even having Tempest with him.
He found himself drawn to her a lot. The calico couldn’t really work out what his feelings for her were - he knew he loved her, or perhaps he thought he did. Truthfully he hadn’t been close with anyone before her, scarcely even his own parents. Perhaps he was drawn to her because he could share his struggles with her, like a sister or a fellow soldier. Gus certainly admired her resolve. However he always suspected he might have had more romantic feelings for her, but ideas like that were always forcefully drowned out. He couldn’t afford to think like that, at least not now.
The cat snapped to when he heard a knock on the door. Knowing who it was, he went to open it, grinning at the image of his pony buddy. “Morning, dapper. You drop by Drin’s place?”
“Yeah, but he’s still out cold.” She stepped inside as he went back to sit on his bed. Having it in the living room was one of those quirks he had, that she still couldn’t work out whether it was paranoia or personal preference. “What’s the plan today?”
“I was gonna go to Empty Heart and see if Jack has anything for us. You in?”
She shrugged. “Sure-” the comment was broken into by a yawn. “I was looking forward to an interesting job. Maybe beat some people up.”
Gus had to snort at that. “What, you didn’t like last night? Nothing’s more fun than helping old drunks get home.”
“Don’t even joke like that, I’m not accepting another job from him. The money was easy, but it wasn’t worth it. I’d rather we actually have something to do .”
“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed and leaned back, his gaze staying on her eyes.
“Anyway, I’ll be down there. I’m gonna grab a bite to eat first, so I’ll see you there.”
A quick goodbye preceded her departure, living Gus alone once again.
Maybe we ought to save up and move, he thought, his mind following the trail back to the pony land. Sure, the princesses’ laws were dumb sometimes, and he’d certainly be coddled by the natives, but that sounds so much easier than his current situation. I bet that’s something Temp could get behind. The more he considered it, the more he realized just how shit their environment was. It was home, sure, but his heart was in other places. Actually, it was everywhere else - anywhere but here. The Calico made plans to talk to her about it later.
Gus’ attention was brought back down to Earth when his hunger caught up to him finally. His stomach rumbled, and he hummed, looking around for dry snacks. After settling on a banana and leaving his house, he finally started to make his way towards Empty Heart Tavern.
The streets were bustling with the late-afternoon crowds, mostly do-good workers finishing day chores or their various work shifts, but it was getting later and later. Brink’s scum would be crawling from the holes they called home soon enough. Gus walked in the shadows of the awnings, thanking whoever it was that had the bright idea to put them up above the roads. His stride eventually led him to Empty Heart. The tavern was two stories high, bar on the ground floor and rooms above. The tavernwhores owned every room - they slept and ate and lived in this place. For everything it was worth, the owner of the place guaranteed them a rent-free stay as long as they kept business high.
The whores meant nothing to Gus, although he was on a first-name basis with several of them, he wanted no part in their wares. Not because he was a prude, mind you - but he was certain at least a few of them were peddling venereal diseases, and that sounded like a headache he didn’t want. So he beelined it for the bar, taking a seat at one of the stools and putting his elbows on the bartop. The cat running the place padded over, smiling. “Evening Gus,” he greets warmly. “You drinking today?”
“Not today, Jack. I’m looking for a decent job, you got anything?”
He seemed to think for a moment, stroking his chin. “There’s a bounty out for uh… Hell, I don’t remember his name. His poster’s back there.” Jack pointed across the dining area at a wanted poster depicting a black and white cat with long black hair. Under it was his description.
WANTED:
Aswad Jezoar,
black and white, orange eyes, black mane, has brands inspired by Brink
Last Known Location: Brink
1,000 bits
Bring information or his head to Deputy-Marshal Sacker
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“Aswad Jezoar?” Tempest echoes, cigarette smoke riding on the breath of her comment. She was sitting down next to the calico on a bench outside the tavern. It was starting to get busy inside, loud enough they couldn’t talk in peace. “I know that name. He was talked about on the other side of town, as far as he could possibly be from the marshal's’ office.”
“So you reckon he might be that way?” Gus asks, scratching his head idly.
She nodded. “I reckon. It’s the only lead we’ve got. If the damn marshals cared enough to go down there themselves, they’d have him already.”
Everyone knew the police didn’t do their job around here. They got government funding, which didn’t seem like a lot to the rich folk in the nation’s capitol Panthera, but it was a fortune anywhere else. The marshals do just enough to keep their jobs, but apart from that they’re beyond unhelpful. This is mind, Gus cracked a smile. “Maybe we can be the police.”
“What, like be marshals? Are you drunk?”
“No, like be vigilantes!” He jumped to his feet and covered his lower face with his coat, speaking in an intense whisper. “Like heroes in the night, defending the innocent from the shadows!”
The mare took a puff from her cigarette. “God knows I ain’t no hero,” she answers, smiling at the chuckle she elicited from her friend. “Let’s get going. If the dude’s anything like us, he’ll be up all night.”
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Night Tempest was cold. Everything about her environment - the floor, the walls, the air - it was all cold. Her clothes were gone, she could tell from the bare skin contact with the cement below her. Her eyes came open to the sound of gruff voices. Her body ached from sleeping on a hard surface, for who-knows-how-long. Slowly but surely, her gaze flittered over to the two caribou standing outside her cell. Beyond them was another room like hers, with a pegasus inside. She’d been plucked clean with some sort of brace around her wings to keep them down, and appeared to have a black collar on.
The place clearly wasn’t kept clean - it smelled like piss and shit, and the walls were stained with what she could figure was blood or feces, or perhaps both. The smell was as bad as the way it looked. The floor was lined with a thin film of dirt and dry fluids. Some spots looked a little more greasy, as if they were newer than others. Overall it was a nightmare.
What the fuck? With a shudder, she closed her eyes and started to get up, feeling a dull pain flare up in her lower abdomen. Temp struggled to remember being hit there with that stun baton. Those final few moments were hazy and far away, like they had happened weeks ago. Surely it had only been a matter of hours.
“Mother of Dainn, she’s finally awake,” says the taller of the guards. The other just snorted and tapped the bars with his baton.
“You up? We’ve been waiting, bitch. Boss told us to let you sleep.”
Temp finally mustered the strength to speak, though she didn’t have enough in her to be pissed off at her captors. “How long was I out?”
“About a day. It doesn’t matter.” He went to unlock the cell, fumbling with the key for a second before finally opening it and stepping inside.
She had enough time to look up and squint, crawling back against the corner of the cell and mentally readying herself for a fight.
“Don’t bother. You’ve had this coming for a while. You broke the record for having gone the longest without a collar, but we fixed that.” They locked the doors behind them, the taller one reaching down to grab her by the throat and squeeze. In his grip, she felt something else - it felt an awful lot like the collar he mentioned, and that was about when the dread settled in. She inhaled sharply, straining somewhat and keeping her arms at her sides. Somewhere in her mind, Temp told herself fighting back right now would end in agony.
“I heard you also hurt one of my buddies. The local magistrate wanted you blanked, but we convinced him we could turn you into a happy little red collar. Eventually the punishment will become the very thing you wake up in the morning for. You all learn eventually that you’re made for fucking, nothing else.” He let her go, gripping her hair and tail, forcing her turn and face the wall before she could register that he was about to rape her.
It became obvious once her face was in the corner, and the panic and pain shot adrenaline into her system. A white hot feeling grew in her chest, and in her mind she told herself this one would have to be endured. She wanted to fight back and die with one last struggle, so when she found herself at the devil’s feet she could say she never lost herself.
It didn’t happen that way. Instead she felt a rock hard dick force its way into her marehood with an iron grip on her flank. The sudden force was painful enough for her to gasp, something the caribou clearly found amusing. One was laughing, all through the experience. The one that mounted her was bucking his hips soon enough, pushing and pulling his cock in her. She felt every inch of its muscle, the way it rocked her body and forced her pussy to try to squeeze him out. All it ended up doing was making the guy groan in pleasure, pumping her a little harder. The cycle repeated until she couldn’t focus on anything for more than a second.
She wanted to scream and struggle, she wanted to fight back. Yet all the mare could do was sob weakly and suffer, unable to find any fire within herself. The mare thought maybe she could steel her nerves and power through it, and if nothing else keep her dignity intact until she came up with a plan to escape. Instead she just let him ride her, grunting and huffing. Her own breaths were becoming labored, her lungs deflating with shallow breaths as she panted. Anything that might have been pleasurable about the experience was undermined by the gravity of the situation. The caribou - rapists, savages, and here one was, and she couldn’t fight back. Why am I not fighting back?
The caribou shuddered, dumping a load of his cum inside her. It felt warm and fulfilling, and the sensation disgusted her. As soon as he pulled out, he spoke. “Your turn. She’s mostly a dead fuck, but if you go nice and hard she squeezes you nicely.”
Night Tempest let out a weak cry, balling her hands into fists and letting her mind be free as the next guy rubbed her pussy. That was the first time she had felt anything even remotely good, and the surprise was enough to distract her from keeping her voice down. She moaned, and when he spread her legs for her a little more, she didn’t resist. The head of his cock brushed her opening teasingly, pressing into her folds. “Moan a little more, slut,” he said lowly, grinning. “You’d make a hell of red collar.”
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The other side of Brink wasn’t too different from where Tempest and Gus stayed. Architecturally it was identical, but the inhabitants looked a little different. They carried weapons, they were dirtier. Some stood in groups across the street from one another. The area they were in was a little more open - buildings were built in clusters, with the occasional store or house on a street corner. Weeds and grass grew in ugly patches, swallowed by all the sand and dust everywhere else.
The people around there were wary and dangerous, carrying their blades or maybe a bow if they were feeling froggy. Gus and Tempest were no stranger to that, keeping weapons of their own. For the cat it was a shortsword, tucked into a scabbard on his thigh. The pony kept a dagger on her belt. Their respective arms were concealed by the coats, keeping sand and heat off them. Their travel across the city took roughly two hours, enough time for the sun to settle on the horizon. The heat was growing less and less intense, and soon the temperature drop would be giving their dusters another function.
It had been decided during their walk that the first place to go would be a gang hideout by the name of A Thousand Whispers. The name alluded to the size of the gang itself - which blatantly wasn’t a thousand men strong, but the name was ‘cool and intimidating’ according to the dumb bastards that ran it. Night Tempest recalled Aswad being affiliated with them, though she forgot if it was a friendly or hostile relationship. Either way, the gang leaders were bound to have information. And with Taskere Drin having paying them, they had the funds to pay for any small lead they could get. With any luck, if they were feeling generous, they might give up his precise location.
That was Gus’ sentiment, although the mare heavily doubted it. One thing was certain in any town in Abyssinia - everything had its price.
The hideout itself was little more than a long one-story house, with a handful of cats standing around outside smoking. Temp’s habit flared up and she lit up a cigarette, though she suspected the other guys were smoking weed.
“Think they’re selling?” Gus asks half-jokingly.
“Don’t play,” she answers, flicking ash off. “I have enough temptations already.”
The cat laughed as they moved up the walkway to the front door. “You’d be a joy to smoke with, and maybe it’ll curb your cigarette habit, eh?”
Temp snorted. “I tested that theory,” she admits. “It makes it worse.”
As they approached, one of the stoner cats looked over. “Y’all looking for the boss?” The pair nodded. “Cool.” The joint was passed to him and he lost interest immediately.
“He’s stoned out of his mind,” Gus mumbles with a smile. They knocked, and a fairly large Purrsian lynx opened the door. Gus looked up at him, cocking a brow. “Hey big guy, can we ask Diablo some questions?” Diablo wasn’t the boss’ God-given name, he just seemed to think it made him sound badass.
“You cops?” the big cat asked.
“I wish.”
He grunted and stepped aside, letting the two inside. The interior of the house was decorated by someone with a lot of money, clearly. Nice furniture, paintings, vases and candles. The actual inhabitants were a mess - sitting around smoking pot or cigars, some with women in their laps. “Last door on the left,” the cat grumbles. The last door on the left was at the end of a hallway, which was mercifully vacant.
Tempest and Gus navigated through the maze of potheads, crossing over one who’d stoned himself into a vegetative state and made their way down the hallway. Again, they knocked, and a pleasantly chipper voice answered. “Come in!”
They entered, absorbing the features of the room immediately. It was just as nice as the rest of the house, with far less partying going on. There was an orange tabby sitting on his bed, with a sleeping woman next to him mostly hidden under the covers. The tabby’s eyes were glazed, but he was upright and attentive for the most part. “What do you want?” he asks a little slowly, his lips never fully closing.
Night Tempest was the first to pipe up. “We’re looking for Aswad Jeh… What was his name?” she asks Gus, turning her attention to him.
“Aswad Jezoar,” Gus finishes helpfully, fighting a smirk. “He’s got a bounty and we’re hurting for money.”
“Asswad?” the tabby guesses incorrectly. When the bounty hunters snorted and started chuckling, he joined in, before realizing what they’d said. “Oh, Aswad Jezoar. You mean Jessie? Yeah, I don’t know… Y’all got money?”
“Twenty bits sound fair?”
“Shit,” the tabby says through a giggle. “That’s more than he’s ever gave around here. Doesn’t help, doesn’t do anything for the Whispers, he just smokes all of our weed. The bastard’s coming by in two days, he said. Another twenty bits and I’ll let you do your business with him on my lawn.”
Gus and Temp looked at one another and shrugged, then handed him twenty bits a piece, making up for the total price. “Great,” she chirps. “We’ll be by in a couple days then.”
Diablo waved and watched the two leave, then started giggling. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, which rattled with the sound of hundreds of coins sliding over one another. He turned the cloth baggy upside down and shook the forty bits into the drawer, grinning with glee. “That’s gonna be fun to watch.”
Author's Note
Chapters may be a little slow-moving. I don't have a night off 'till the 30th. That being said, I would appreciate comments and likes. To those of you who favorited the story, thank you so much!
Fall of Equestria: Halcyon
Blood streamed from her nose. Tempest rolled over onto her side, coughing and spitting until she didn’t taste the sand on her tongue anymore. Gus was shouting somewhere, he must have been miles away. No, he was right in front of her. Another body hit the ground, she saw it rather than heard it. The pain in her leg felt like dry ice on a burn. Slowly she lowered her head, wincing and trying not to breathe in the loose dust.
=========================================================================
“Quick and easy, right?” Night Tempest reminded Gus as she flicked a cigarette butt into the road. They sat across the street from Diablo’s house, leaning against the sheet metal wall of some dilapidated building. The pair waited their two days, before coming back and settling down in their spot at noon. There they waited, ready to pounce on Aswad the moment they saw him. To the calico’s chagrin, they had been waiting for hours.
Gus was idly running his fingers in the sand when she piped up. Sighing, he said, “Temp, I love you and all, but I’m fuckin’ bored. I think I’m gonna drop by the convenience store and grab a drink. You want anything?”
She shook her head. Then, “Don’t leave. We don’t know when he’s coming, so we have to be prepared for him to come at any second.”
The cat groaned and looked over his shoulder around the corner. “It’s literally right up the road. I can see it from here. I’ll be back in two shakes, I promise.”
A moment of silence passed. “I want hard apple cider.”
Gus chuckled, patting her arm and standing. He stretched his legs for a second and reached for the sun, doing his best to unfuck the stiffness. A growl followed newly-comfort in his muscles and joints, and he wandered towards the store.
The little shop wasn’t anything spectacular, in fact it would have blended in with every other building if not for the wooden sign out front that read Moe’s Convenience in garish blue lettering. The inside seemed a little nicer, with shelves lined up perpendicular to the left wall. There were cheap snacks and candy. Adorning the wall they sat next to was a long cooler with a glass cover. It was filled with ice and had various beverages inside. The section marked ‘alcohol’ was larger than the rest, and was apparently the most popular thing in the store. Every customer in line had at least one beer, if not three or four.
It was noticeably quaint, and even had a little bell that rang when the door hit it. Something smelled pleasant, and he instinctively looked around for candles or incense. None to be seen, but a fan was blowing into the main room from the entrance to the back room, where a candleglow was visible. Crude but effective, he supposed.
He picked out a generic ale for himself and Temp’s cider, trotting to the front to get in line. His eye flicked over to the front door. It rang the little bell above the entranceway and a mean-looking cat stepped in, firing a hideous glare in Gus’ direction. The calico turned his gaze back to the front, pretending to focus on the cashier. Only seconds had gone by before he heard a dark whisper in his ear.
“What are you and your girlfriend doing here?”
Gus scowled. “Hey, first of all, we aren’t together. Secondly, it’s not your fuckin’ business, pal.” He never bothered to turn and look at who it was. He figured it was the asshole that just walked in.
The big cat snorted. “If it ain’t my business, then you have no business being in this part of Brink. You best get back to wherever you’re from.”
“How about you try to make me?” he shoots back quickly. “I’ll stomp a mudhole in your ass, and then she’ll come over and make the gaping cavern where your chest cavity used to be just a little bigger.” Gus was spitting venom now. The lady cat in front of him shifted nervously, and the cashier cocked a brow at the two of them.
“Just watch yourself, pretty boy,” the cat answers. “You’re in a for a world of medical bills if you stick around.”
“Get fucked , dude. It doesn’t concern you. We’ll be gone by tonight.”
“I know you will,” he mutters.
Gus almost flinched. ...What did he mean by that?
The line finally whittled itself down to Gus and the folk behind him. He flashed a warm smile and paid for his drinks, then gave the big fucker one last glance before leaving.
Night Tempest was hardly paying attention to anything in the real world, so when she felt a hand on her shoulder, she jumped and shot her head up. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Dear God, Temp, it’s just apple cider. Did you have negative experiences with alcohol at a young age?” Gus smirked as he sat back down beside her.
“Shut up. Gimme that.” She yoinked the cider and popped the cap off, taking a sip before humming appreciatively. “Fuck, but it’s so good. Thanks.”
“No skin off my back. Tell you what though, trouble’s lookin’ for us.” He started sipping his own drink, lazily scanning the area for any signs of their target. “Some guy was threatening me, saying we don’t need to be here.”
“Yeah, people on this side of town are weirdly paranoid.” Another mouthful of cider gave way to her next comment. “Think he’s looking out for Aswad or something?”
“Maybe,” the cat muses, taking larger swigs of the ale. He licked his lips and when he saw the same big cat from the store walking through the sidewalk crowds, he nudged her. “Hey, look. It’s the guy I was just talking about.”
“He’s moving with purpose,” she noted, squinting. The cat disappeared around the corner of another house. “Well, I believe I cracked the caper.”
“Huh?”
“Check it out,” she mutters, pointing to the crowds. “Some of these guys have been here almost as long as we have. And they’re just standing there. I caught one of ‘em staring at me.”
Gus scoffed. “Maybe he just liked your tits.” He got an elbow in the side for that.
“I’m serious, man. I don’t think we’re the only people looking for him. If what Diablo said is true, this guy’s a dick with a thousand bits sitting on his noggin.”
Another half-hour passed. Gus and Temp were on edge, keeping a close eye on as many people as they could. On top of being excruciatingly uneventful, they were both stressed and anxious, waiting for anything and everything to happen. A gentle breeze was beginning to wash over them as the sun kissed the horizon.
Night Tempest saw the distinct figure of a slim tuxedo cat padding confidently up the street, making a beeline for the house. Despite the name of his breed, his attire was far from formal. Baggy jeans and a dirty tank top. It was definitely their guy. Gus started to get up, but she grabbed his arm. “Wait. We need to see if anyone else is moving first.”
For a moment it looked as if Aswad was going to make it to the door unmolested, but one of the potheads, an orange tabby, got to him first. He passed the joint off, and with actual cat-like reflexes, turned and tackled the guy to the ground. They rolled, and the stoner cat drew a knife from his belt. With a snarl, he went to push the blade into Aswad’s neck. The other cat was just a little faster. The tuxedo cat bucked his hips, throwing the stoner off.
The tabby rolled, getting to his paws in no time. The moment he raised his dagger, he heard something whiz past his ear. Aswad’s head snapped back from the impact of an arrow appearing in his skull. He crumpled, falling on his back and twitching. The stoner watched in shock as the shooter calmly walked past - a female cat about Gus’ size, bending over to rip the projectile out of her victim’s forehead.
“She’s quite the crackshot,” Temp whispers, still processing all that had happened so quickly.
“She’s pretty cute,” the calico adds, smirking when the mare gave him a dirty look.
“Come on, we need… Fuck.”
Several other cats and even a gnoll approached the woman, each of them armed and glancing between Aswad and the bowcat herself. She put her paw on his face, looking around to see if any of them would challenge her for it. The next comment to leave her mouth would be her last.
“Whoever helps me carry him gets half the cut.”
Our heroes had the brief second to look one another in the eyes before a member of the crowd raised a hand to pipe up. He was one of at least a dozen, plus the bow chick, and then Gus and Night Tempest. The moment he opened his mouth, a fist connected with his jaw.
The fighting was intense and nobody really seemed to take sides. The gnoll, being almost seven feet tall, walked directly to the lady standing on Aswad’s corpse. She saw him coming and started to notch an arrow, but she must have underestimated his speed, because he was up her ass before she could pull the drawstring.
His fingers were around her throat before she could back up. A strangled cry limped out of her throat, the bow falling to the ground as he lifted her. As if being lifted by her throat wasn’t enough, the gnoll drew his sword, nearly as long as her arm. Her eyes widened in fear, and she kicked helplessly as he plunged the iron into her stomach. For good measure, he went through her chest as well, several times. He didn’t stop when she stopped struggling, and even after she hung lifelessly in his grip, he continued to eviscerate her rib cage. Only after her body was completely drenched in her own blood did he drop her.
At that point a few people started to pair up, ganging up on one another and even going after the towering hyena. With a roar, he was swinging and punching, trying his damndest to hit any of his opponents. While he was fast, virtually everyone else was faster, and now that they’d seen him in action, they’d gotten braver. Gus and Temp hung back, staying across the street for the time being. It had been decided they’d wait it out until only a handful were left that they could deal with. This plan would have been fine if it wasn’t for Gus’ nasty words coming back to bite him and the pony in the ass. They watched a scrawny fellow with a long dagger stab the gnoll in the lower back, using all his strength to drive the wedge into his spine.
“Big guy’s out,” Temp says casually, reaching for a cigarette. She glanced over and saw Gus staring with his brows furrowed off to her left. She looked the other way and saw the same big cat from earlier. He was approaching the two of them, wearing a horrifying grin.
“I fuckin’ knew it!” he bellowed, drawing a sword from its home at his waist.
“Book it,” Gus says abruptly, sprinting for the crowd of bounty hunters still in mid-slaughter. The earth mare followed, looking behind her as the guy gave chase. The moment they merged with the group, they were volunteered to fight. A pure black cat cut someone down and turned to see her, immediately advancing and raising his blade. Dagger in hand, Temp brought her hands into a fighting stance, the tip of her knife pointed earthwards. He reared up to swing, blatantly telegraphing his attack. In this case, it was an example that size didn’t always matter - it was how you used it.
She ducked and caught his arm in the backswing, hitting his elbow with her free hand as hard as she could. His arm broke with a stomach-churning crack, bone ripping flesh apart from the inside, and he fell to one knee at her feet. The black cat’s weapon landed in the dirt, just before he looked in time to see her flip her dagger and push it into his throat with a twist. He gurgled as if trying to speak underwater, eyes rolling back into his head as she cut a wide gash in his flesh. Temp tore the dagger back out and turned her attention to Gus.
The calico had been busy. While she dealt with one, he dealt with another, the one who’d dispatched the gnoll. He probably used to be a gorgeous siamese cat, but sand and bits of blood ruined his coat. The little shit was fast - Gus was quick with the shortsword, putting his palm against the flat of the blade and gripping it carefully so he could block the incoming strikes. The siamese wasn’t letting up, pushing harder and harder, waiting for him to slip up. As he lunged to try to get his blade inside the calico’s defenses, Gus backed up, surprising the Hell out of the attacker.
“Didn’t see that coming?” he snarks as the siamese stumbled forward. Gus was already swinging before his adversary could recover. The edge tore through the smaller cat’s fingers, sending digits and his weapon into the dust. The shock of the pain and being suddenly disarmed got him ultimately killed. The last thing he felt was the throbbing agony of a sword passing through his heart.
He looked over in time to see Night Tempest’s eyes locking with his, and the form of the big asshole appearing suddenly. “Hey-!” Gus heard a commotion behind him and spun, raising his shortsword to parry an attack he was sure was coming. His instincts proved right, saving his life by the nuance of an inch of steel. The new opponent’s sword glanced off his, and the calico readied for another fight.
The corner of Night Tempest’s vision was eclipsed by a sword swinging into view. She darted to the side and faced her attacker directly, bringing herself to a familiar fighting stance. There weren’t too many bounty hunters left, and a few had ran. Hopefully this guy would be the last. He took a big step forward, aiming the tip of his blade for her left shoulder. She easily side-stepped, and then figured out what he was up to. Too late. The moment her right leg reconnected with the ground, he swung down, slicing her thigh wide open. Pain shot through her body in a wave of torment, punctuated by his off-hand clenching into a fist and crashing into her snout. The pony toppled, the sheer force spinning her and leaving her face-down in the sand. She gasped and coughed, choking on the earth.
Gus snarled, running his sword through the other cat’s neck and swiftly twisting to see Temp laid out in the sand, and Big Guy standing over her with the intent to drive his blade into her. The calico moved, faster than he thought he could ever go, and felt himself force his weapon into him with all of his body-weight behind it. He successfully buried his sword hilt-deep, punching through ribs and organs. He twisted and jerked, continuing to push until pulling it back out with an ungodly cry of rage.
Night Tempest watched her friend impale their foe with a horrible roar, loud enough for her to hear clearly through her haze. She blinked the tears out of her eyes, wincing and sitting up as she rubbed her temple with her palm. The punch definitely shook her up, but everything was coming back into focus soon enough. She closed her eyes again, groaning weakly. She felt a warmth place itself next to her, and a pair of hands grabbed her arms.
“Hey, you alright?” asks Gus’ voice.
“You killed the shit out of him,” she manages, reaching up to put her arms around him. He helped her to her feet, keeping her weight on her good leg. Her thigh was burning dully, and any movement in her leg felt like someone was pouring gasoline in her wound.
The calico looked around, letting a small smile cross his features. Everyone in the crowd was dead or far away by now. “Looks like we win.”
=========================================================================
Diablo was resourceful, that much was obvious. One of his cats was a skilled healer, reportedly having learned from zebras out east. After some adhesive and amateurishly-applied sutures, the mare’s thigh was no longer a bloody cavernous mess. She was sat on the bed, occasionally flinching as the cat worked on cleaning the area. Her pants were around her ankles. The cat might have been staring if he didn’t have something more important to focus on.
“Let me get this straight,” Gus says, pinching the bridge of his snout with his eyes closed. “You let all these people come and fight over Aswad Jezoar for shits and giggles ?”
The gang leader was still chuckling. “It was entertaining, at least for me. I figured whoever won would be mad, so I set aside some bits to offer as compensation.” The dude was higher than a horse.
Temp’s head snapped up when she caught that. “How much?” she asks impatiently.
He shrugged. “I got quite a bit from all them crazy cats paying me for information on him. Most of the guys didn’t stay behind to fight. Does five-hundred bits sound fair?”
If the pair had drinks they would have spat them out.
=========================================================================
It was the early hours of the morning when Tempest and Gus walked in her home. He helped her to sit down, and he sat beside her, dropping the bag of coins at their feet. They sat in quietness for a few moments before Gus opened his trap.
“What are we gonna do with fifteen-hundred bits?” he asks, his gaze finally averting to her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Buy a shit-load of food?”
It was right then that the cat remembered what he wanted to talk about with her. “Hey, why don’t we get tickets to Equestria?”
The pony furrowed her brow. “Gus… Tickets for an airship to Equestria are usually eighteen-hundred a piece. We don’t have enough to cover even one of us leaving.”
“Then we’ll save up. How nice would it be to get out of Brink?”
“It would be awesome, but could you imagine the reaction we’d get from the natives? They’re not just ponies - they’re sheep and their princesses coddle them. We’re wolves - as soon as we show our fangs, they’ll run us out of every city we come across.”
“Hey, I resent that,” the cat says, chuckling. He settled back down, thinking about what she said. “Maybe you’re right. But anything is worth a try, right? Anything is better than here. You wanna live like this for the rest of our lives? Putting our lives in danger just so we can scrape up enough to buy bread and cigarettes?”
Night Tempest sighed, leaning back and stretching out on the bed. “I don’t know. I’ll sleep on it.”
Gus smiled at that and squeezed her hand, getting up. “I’m gonna run on home, let you rest. Sleep tight, Temp.”
“You too, man. Be safe.” Gus was about to walk when she spoke again. “Hey?” What am I doing?
“Yeah?” he asks, quirking a brow and looking over his shoulder.
She hesitated. “I’m serious. Be careful.” There was a sincerity in her voice that caught the calico off-guard.
Her friend just chuckled. “I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll drop by in the afternoon, make sure your leg didn’t rot off in your sleep.”
Tempest snorted, rolling her eyes and smiling. “We’ll see. See ya.”
Author's Note
Holy shit these dislikes. Come on y'all, at least tell me why you think it's shit, lmao.
Fall of Equestria: Halcyon
Deputy-Marshal Sacker was a terrible sight to behold anywhere in Brink. The grey-striped forest cat wasn’t a fan of the heat, but he grit his teeth and dealt with it for the sake of his job. His reputation for being the one cop that did what he was supposed to made him notorious among the scum and a hero among the innocent. He stood around the scene of eight corpses on Brink’s north side. The body he noted the most was that of Aswad Jezoar’s - head sheared off, presumably by an unprofessional. The flesh had been cut unevenly and then torn apart where they pried the head off the spine. It was gut-wrenching to look at the loose collection of the dead, but he had seen the dead before. They were easy to find.
The cat certainly had the noir look going on, mixed with Brink’s general choice of reasonably functional fashion. Khakis, a white shirt, a long dark-brown duster. He didn’t wear his badge on necklaces like some of the idiots he knew - that, he rationalized, was a reliable way to get throttled to death. He liked to imagine they were wearing Fatal Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation on their necks instead of marshals’ badges. The one time he’d asked why the Hell they did that, they said the folks in movies did it and it looked cool, so why not? At that, they were answered with a sarcastic ‘Ohhhhhh’ form Sacker. He remembered that day fondly as the day he figured out his coworkers were not only lazy-asses, but bumbling fools at that.
Being the singular member of the police that cared, he was the only deputy who showed up. So when he got there and the locals saw him, they scattered, knowing he couldn’t feasibly chase them. After looking at all the bodies one last time, he finally he walked up to the door of the house, cop-knocking on the door. It was late-afternoon, somebody was bound to be up in there. “Marshals’ Service, open up!”
After a few moments, a slim girl opened up and looked up at him, dressed in panties and a shirt four sizes too large for her. Her ears flattened against her head and she cleared her throat nervously. “You here for Pe- Diablo?”
Sacker snorted but didn’t laugh or smile. “Diablo? Is that what he calls himself now?”
She nodded.
“Go get him.” He tracked her as she turned to jog into a hallway. She opened and closed a door behind her. There was some muffled frantic speaking, sounding like she was trying to wake him up. Sacker took the opportunity to step inside, the smell of weed hitting his nose. In the living room alone he saw bongs and pipes, and razorblades covered in white dust. Oh, that’s neat. he thinks to himself. He didn’t tell me about that one.
A male voice yelled from behind the bedroom door. “Fine! Jesus Harold Christ…” The orange tabby stepped into the hall in boxers, his belly hanging over the waistband. He looked up after rubbing his eyes and paused, putting something into careful consideration. With a forced smile he walked closer. “Hey, deputy… Something I can help you with?”
“Sure can, Perry.” The tabby flinched. “How did all those bodies end up on your lawn?” Sacker spoke articulately and powerfully. They both knew he was in control here.
“What-?”
“They’re still there, buddy.”
“Dammit,” he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “I told those potheads to clean that shit up.”
Sacker actually smiled, his tail weaving back and forth under the duster. “Yep. That’s what happens when a bunch of stoners answer to a crack-addicted butter imp.”
“Hey, ouch?” Perry complained. He sighed again and thought for a moment, glancing away only to meet Sacker’s gaze again. “Look, if I give you names, will you give me another freebie?”
“How about you quit buying and selling cocaine and then give me names, and then I’ll give you a freebie.”
He flinched again. Sacker saw the coke, evidently. “Alright, alright… You got a pencil and paper?”
=========================================================================
She’d been curled up in the corner of the cell for almost an hour now, lost deep in thought. Tempest barely registered the two outside, talking about how great of a time they had to a few other guards. There were four total, including the two on the top of her shit-list. They’d taken turns, letting out some stress and then going a little longer to remind her that defying the caribou was a mistake. Then they went beyond that to punish her for putting their friend in the medical ward. She reasoned that’s probably what the motherfucker deserved, but that opinion wasn’t made known to them.
Somewhere in the fathoms of her conscious, plans were being made as questions were asked and then answered with logic and what she knew so far. Could she escape? Doubtfully, given the trouble she had with just two of them. Under normal circumstances, two adversaries shouldn’t have been an issue. It was nothing she hadn’t handled before. Unfortunately for her and many others like her, the caribou were skilled fighters. The way they spoke, they’d been through more nations than Equestria. Zebras, dogs, gryphons.
She wondered if they’d been through Abyssinia. The mare truly didn’t believe it. Not that she cared what happened anymore, but the place was still a giant fishbowl. There was nothing to conquer, it was just sand and violence. At the most they might steamroll it and kill everything within. Good goddamned riddance.
The earth mare supposed that the one good thing about being raped was what it did to her head afterwards. It was as if the experience had pushed deep inside the clutches of her mind, where she could shut herself inside her feelings and just think. There she could relax and prepare herself for what was to come, consider the future and how she would handle the worst possible scenarios, and most importantly relive memories of the past. Lamenting on the good times, she unconsciously put her hand around her neck, feeling a collar instead of a necklace. Besides not having any clothes, she felt truly naked without her necklace.
She looked up at the shorter of the guards, Rekke, as he called her name. “Night Tempest. Get up, you’re due to see Warden Setra.” She’d learned their names after listening to them speak for a while. The other one was called Agata. Internally she laughed, while being physically stone-faced, at the absurdity of those names. She hadn’t learned the others, but she assumed they were equally silly. They sounded ancient, the kind of names parents gave to their children who had never let go of traditional values. That made sense when it concerned a group of patriarchs.
Perhaps she would have thought they were fine, maybe even interesting, a few months ago. As for now, these two and the other name that kept getting thrown around - Dainn - represented a direct affront to her sexuality and everything she valued. So she used them as fodder to fuel the gallows humor that kept her from losing her shit. If anything else, she at least had herself to keep her company. The merciless God above knew she didn’t have anyone else to rely on, and the lack of cigarettes was killing her.
Following the guard’s orders, she stood, keeping her back against the wall. Hoofsteps came into earshot and the four guards fell into formation, saluting and then unlocking the door. A caribou about her size walked in through the door, wearing armor that seemed more ceremonial in nature. He had a folder in hand, and when they met eyes, he hummed thoughtfully. His coat was light in color and seemed to have slightly darker stripes. Tempest guessed this was Setra.
“When I was told you’re a dark mare, I didn’t think they meant black. ” A fifth guard brought in a simple light-weight chair, setting it down before stepping out and having Rekke lock the door. “Take a seat.” For a split second she thought in the chair, but when he sat in it, she placed herself in the floor, with one leg looped under the other and her arm resting on her knee. He seemed bothered by her casualness, but didn’t comment on it. She remained silent. Setra opened the folder and studied it, speaking without looking at her. “Night Tempest. It doesn’t have a place of birth, or age, or much of anything listed apart from your appearance. You’ve been a black collar since… Yesterday? How did you manage that?”
“I’m not from here,” she answers simply.
“Where, then? Crystal Empire? The forest?”
She rolled her eyes. Setra didn’t seem to notice, but he looked up after she didn’t answer him for a few seconds. “Speak.”
“Woof.”
“You-” His temper clearly flared up for a moment, but he relaxed himself and spoke again. “You’ll have to cooperate if you want your stay here to be more comfortable.” That word was used loosely, but at this point he was hoping he could get her to talk without hitting her or raping her. The defiant ones were even less cooperative after that.
Sighing, she answered him. “Abyssinia. Ever heard of Brink?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where I’m from.”
Setra nodded, writing some things down. “Uh-huh. Have you ever been to Equestria before now?”
She shook her head. “No. Nobody could have paid to come here. Celestia’s perfect little echo-chamber sounded almost worse than Brink as far as I was concerned.” Tempest remembered who she was talking to and kept a mental note to give him only the information he wanted. Nothing else.
“Now that’s curious,” he says, writing something else down. “I take it you were never taught to say ‘nopony.’ I usually have to break mares of that habit.”
“Why the fuck would I say that? Is that a thing over here?”
“Yes.” Setra smiled. “What you said about Equestria being an echo-chamber was accurate. The natives were very racist.”
Night Tempest snorted. She almost smiled, but kept her face straight in the name of pride.
Setra asked several more questions, submitting as much information on her as he could. It took about an hour, setting up a profile for her. He’d gone so far as to ask if she had lived a hard life in Brink. After dealing with the snark, he’d learned precisely what he didn’t want to hear. She was an experienced fighter, which accounted for the successful incapacitation of one of their soldiers. Not only could she fight, but she could kill and still sleep peacefully, as if nothing had happened. That worried him somewhat.
It was easier with the mares native to Equestria. Some may have been hard workers, but virtually none of them were killers. Hell, there were almost as few that could put up a fight. The six heroes, clearly. The handful of female soldiers, some of the Wonderbolts. Even those were handled relatively painlessly with the assistance of their brothers-in-arms. This bitch wouldn’t be easy to sell.
Once he was done, he stood and walked over, kneeling over and getting in her face. Her stare didn’t waver. That didn’t help his impatience with her. “Night Tempest, I’m going to explain a few things. You’ve done this to yourself. You have no rights here and nobody is obligated to be polite to you. The men, and by extension the state owns your mind and your body. Do you understand?”
Was he being serious? Thinking back, she shouldn’t have been shocked. But having it told to her was really what gave her a better understanding and forced her to acknowledge the situation she was in. She thought ahead to her possible future - endless, mind-numbing rape. Being tormented day-by-day. Seeing others like her who were so much more helpless. She knew she might lose the strength to stay defiant. Her willpower, her pride, her dignity, all were bound to go down the drain. It was as if she were being told how and when she was going to die.
In the midst of coming to grips with her future, she felt a hand strike her cheek. “Hey! I asked you a question. Do you understand?”
Tempest scowled and hacked up a loogie, then spit it in his face. Slowly and as calmly as he could humanly manage, he wiped his face, then slammed his hoof into her stomach. “You little fucking whore. You’ll learn, Night Tempest. This isn’t Brink. You have no hope here. You are our property.” The mare was on her side, coughing and wincing, daring herself to say some impolite things to him. Instead she just nodded, scowling at him as he turned and waved at them. They unlocked the door and he stopped, looking over his shoulder at her.
“Fuck her until she passes out. Make sure there’s someone in this cell every hour. And use her ass this time.”
Fall of Equestria: Halcyon
The sound of a knock woke Night Tempest out of her slumber. She went to sit up, grimacing when she felt her thigh flare up. The work that had been done on it was crude, but effective. The wound apparently stayed closed throughout the night, though her nerves seemed to resent her for all the tossing and turning. Ignoring the soreness, she shakily rose, walking through the apartment with a limp and opening the door. Expectedly, Gus was there, glancing down at her leg.
“Hey, you didn’t die in your sleep.”
“Yup. Quit staring at my panties and come in.” She giggled at him as he walked in, rolling his eyes with a soft smile. His cheeks might have been red, but there was too much fur to really tell. Her long-sleeved gown didn’t really fit like it used to, since she had grown since she was a teenager, but it was enough.
The feline’s first reaction was to pull her into a tight embrace. It surprised her, but she hugged him in return, just tall enough to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I almost didn’t leave last night,” he says first. Hearing that, she closed her eyes, deflating her lungs with a long exhale. “Probably sounds weird, but I hadn’t ever really thought about the possibility of losing my only friend.”
Temp let out a light chuckle. “It’s not weird. I was up for a while, wondering what might happen if something happened to you. I think we dodged an arrow.”
After a moment, they pulled away just a bit. “Maybe we should keep our noses out of bounty hunting for a while, huh?” He was still smiling.
Some part of her felt disappointed that the warmth was gone. It wasn’t like the heat of the sun outside; something about their hug was welcomingly warm. She brushed it off and let him go, turning to walk into the kitchen and procuring a carton of eggs from her cabinet. “Hungry? Scrambled eggs?” Opening them, two had been eaten already, leaving four in the case.
“Shit, I could go for eggs.” He reached inside his coat and pulled out a long wooden rod. When Tempest took a good look at it, she saw it was a cane. “Ehhh?” he vocalizes with a smile, eyebrows raised.
She scoffed and laughed. “Did you buy that for me? Want me to walk around with it?”
Gus rolled his shoulders with a shrug, setting himself down on the sofa. “Yeah, why not? You would look freakin’ awesome walking around with a cane, man.”
Night Tempest just shook her head, turning her attention to making breakfast. “Wanna drop by Empty Heart and look for a job?”
The cat leaned back, kicking his feet up on the table. “Yeah, sounds good.” There was a short moment of quietness. “If we don’t find anything, wanna get drunk?”
=========================================================================
The bar was lively as usual at that time of night. The hours of the moon dragged into early morning just past midnight, as the night owls told their stories and drank whatever beverage they could afford. Temp and Gus sat beside one another, both had a beer in hand. Two empty shotglasses sat in front of them. Both of them were smiling lightly, talking to whoever could be bothered to listen. Bartender, bystanders, each other. It didn’t matter, they were talkative drinkers.
“I’m thinking maybe we should have taken another shot or two before we got the beer,” Tempest comments, sipping her drink. “Not that I’m alcoholic-”
“Nah, I think you’re alcoholic. If we had a sustainable flow of income and nothing else to do, you’d be drinking holes in your liver.” He snickered at her.
She giggled, shaking her head. “No, no, hear me out. I enjoy sobriety. I do. Weed and alcohol is just like… An occasional thing, ya know?”
“Is it though?” His tone was playful enough for a tipsy chick to understand.
“Hush, hush. Listen. Listen, are you paying attention?” She looked over at him and the look on his face killed her. He was just staring, smiling knowingly at her. Temp couldn’t help but laugh, trying her damnedest to speak in-between chortles. “Okay, look.”
Gus scoffed and started mocking her. “Aight, listen, so get this, check it, listen, pay attention, aight? Look-”
She elbowed him, setting her drink down and covering her mouth. “It’s not funny! This isn’t funny, we’re just drunk.”
“We’re not drunk, you’re freakin’ hysterical.”
After a taking a few deep breaths, she sighed with a grin. “You stress me the fuck out, I need a cigarette.” She pulled the last one from the pack and got up to walk outside.
Night Tempest remembered that night fondly. She wished tonight could have gone like that. Instead she and her friend stood in silence, studying a couple wanted posters on the wall with a mix of shock and horror. The posters depicted the two of them - Gus The Calico and Night Tempest, wanted dead or alive. Two-thousand bits a piece.
She ran her fingers through her long mane and sighed, shaking her head slowly. “This is so fucked up. Did Diablo sell us out?”
Gus raised his brows and looked over at her. “He’s your buddy. Think he’d be willing to sell us out like that?”
Temp frowned at him. “He’s not my buddy. Especially not now, if he ever had been.” Her gaze wandered over to the bar crowd, and she picked up several cats looking their direction. Gus might have been able to sneak back out, but Night Tempest was the only pony in Brink, and a pretty flashy one at that. The white mane could easily be spotted from miles away. “The way I see it, we need to go and get this shit sorted out with the marshals or just fucking run,” she continues. “We’re kinda looking at our death sentence here.”
The calico nodded, giving the sneering caricatures of themselves one last look. “Our safer bet is skipping town. Think maybe it’s about time to go to Equestria?”
“I still think that’s a shit idea. Especially as broke as we are. But I reckon it’d still be easier to sneak into a cargo bay than walk for days in the desert.”
Gus wanted to say something else, but his words got lost halfway up his throat when he saw five felines get up and walk purposefully towards them. “Trouble’s coming,” he mutters, taking her arm lightly in his grip and easing her towards the door. She repeated a phrase in her mind that helped her along with the cane - Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. The earth mare hobbled out with him, making it outside and off the porch before their pursuers sped up and chased them out. The calico grumbled and looked her in the eyes. “Can you fight?”
Her answer to that question came in the form of her cane. As one reached for her, she put all her weight on her good leg and swung hard, smashing the walking apparatus into the first guy’s temple. A loud crack broke through the air as the cane snapped, and the offending cat fell to his side clutching his head. A groan followed as the second lunged over him and tackled Tempest to the ground. Her ears picked up the sound of swords crashing into one another. Sparks flew and the skin-crawling sound of metal ripping through flesh hit her ears. Gus had brought one down. Three to go.
Two of them ganged up on him. She meanwhile had to focus on the guy straddling her, drawing a knife from his coat. Before he could plunge it into her belly, she gripped the blade and twisted it from his grasp, sending it careening into the dirt. The mix of pain in her hand and her thigh had her face contorted in agony, but it was nothing to her compared to what her fate would have been otherwise. She covered her face with her free arm as he started throwing punching. That and the blood dripping from her palm on her face made it a little harder to aim, but within milliseconds her own dagger was in her other hand, and she pushed the business end into his chest, just under the ribcage.
She wasn’t sure if she hit his heart or a lung, but it was enough to put him out of commission. He fought back erratically, struggling for his life as she twisted the steel under the bone and eviscerated anything she could. He wasn’t breathing for much longer. The pony pushed him off and got to her feet, just in time to see another asshole join the bodies. One left. The final adversary swung wide and low. Gus jumped back and winced in fear, the realization he had nearly been gutted hitting him like a sack of bits. She was on her feet as quickly and as quietly as she could manage, moving right up to his back.
All Gus saw was Tempest’s arm wrap around the cat’s throat and his eyes bulge, and he heard the telltale shlick shlick shlick of a blade repeatedly entering and exiting flesh. He stepped to the side as the last cat crumbled, wheezing and crying. Temp sheathed her blade and looked up at her friend, her wounded hand trembling gently. He stepped closer to her and put an arm around her, silently leading her away from the devastation.
They walked, walking until they’d gotten a ways away from the dead and dying, with nobody else in sight. Eventually, she took a knee, dragging Gus down with her. He helped her to sit as tenderly as he could managed kneeling beside her and keeping a light hold on her. She started to speak shortly thereafter. “August…”
“Yeah?”
“What if that’s us tomorrow?” There pain in her voice. Not physical pain - it went deeper than that, as if for once she was genuinely afraid of death.
The cat shook his head. “Don’t talk that way, Temp. Between the two of us, we’ve got this shit in the bag.”
She looked up at him finally, gripping his shirt tightly. It stained red. “What are we gonna do?” Fear, confusion, dread.
It was rubbing off on Gus, and he didn’t seem to hide it. He sat beside her and hugged her close, cradling her hand in his. “I’ll go wherever you go. We’re wolves, right? Wolves run together.”
Temp smiled at that, leaning into him and burying her face in his neck. He held her a little tighter in return, resting his cheek on her head. The need for comfort was mutual. The two of them had killed quite a few people in just a couple days, and now they were wanted by the marshals’ service. All the stress came up at once and left her in a sigh as she clung to August, looking at her hand. “I need to clean that shit up,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” He got up, helping her stand and threading an arm around her waist. “Let’s go home.”
=========================================================================
Pain.
That’s all she could have used to describe the night. From the point Setra left up to the sunrise, that’s all she felt. Even well after they’d all grown tired of her and let her rest, she felt sore and hopeless. It was perhaps the most unsettling and uncomfortable experience of her life, and throughout every rape and between every sensation of a caribou’s cock sliding out and back in, she couldn’t decide whether or not she just wanted to die.
Night Tempest did know that her nerves were shot and she felt like she’d ran the marathon several times in a row. So when she finally passed out, it felt like only seconds when a hand firmly picked her up by the arm and dragged her to a standing position. Blearily, she caught the face of Rekke in her gaze. Motherfucker.
“You’ve been sleeping all day. It’s time to go to the auction.”
“Auction?” she asks tiredly, tempted to arch her back and stretch. She thought better about that since her breasts were almost touching the big bastard anyway.
“Yeah. We can’t just keep you here. You use up space and food.”
“You’ve fed me three times since I’ve been here,” she snarks.
He snarled and threw her towards the door, where she stumbled into the grip of the other guard. “That was two times too many. Let’s go. Don’t wanna be late, huh?”
Agata put a leash on her and kicked her back leg, forcing her to her knees. “Crawl.”
Is he being fucking real right now?
The caribou kicked her in the side. “Crawl , bitch.”
Tempest grumbled and followed him down the corridor. Now that she got a look at it, it was a bit cleaner than the cells themselves. It was still a shitty bunker, but at least dragging her hands and knees across the floor wasn’t as nearly as disgusting as it would have been in her chambers. All-around it was still depressing and dreadful. They passed by several more cells, a handful of them were occupied by mares of all shapes and sizes.
The pegasi were given the same treatment as the one she’d seen earlier. She’d noticed the unicorns had their horns removed or bound in some kind of brace. Earth ponies were left alone, for the most part. A few had been chained. It was a nightmare to look at, seeing her kin like that.
Another thought struck her as they went. The only other ponies I’ve seen are my parents and my sister. Why should I give a fuck about these mares?
...Because this is inhumane? Good to know she still had some sense of right and wrong. They diverted from the hall into what looked like a bathroom, although there were no toilets or showerheads. Just water hoses. Agata stood her up and told her to sit still. She knew what was coming. It didn’t take long for the squeak of a faucet to precede a jet of cold water hitting her. She winced and turned her head away, cursing loudly. Rekke was laughing somewhere in the corridor.
Agata gripped her tail and hosed her nethers with the water, making her flinch and cry out. She felt fingers rubbing her ass and her marehood. Tempest felt disgusted, mostly with herself for just letting him. He was mercifully done soon enough, although not after pushing an index finger inside her cunny for good measure. He stirred her up for a few seconds, enjoying the wriggling he was getting from her. She certainly didn’t mean to make any noise when she exhaled, but she did, and the caribou grunted victoriously.
“Don’t bother fighting it.”
Eat shit.
After that particularly humiliating shower, she was led to a lobby of sorts where her captors checked out with another guard, and then she was taken outside.
The site she was at apparently had a name. Kennel 03. She couldn’t see much from where she was, mostly just forest. Although in the distance was a mountain with a city perched upon the top - Canterlot. She supposed if this is how things were after how much time has passed since the invasion, then the princesses were all up there licking Dainn’s hooves. A hoof to the side broke her from her reverie.
“Hey, let’s go. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.” There was a cart waiting for them, apparently.
“Care if I ask where we’re going?” she asks lowly, keeping her head down.
“Ponyville.”
Author's Note
Sorry for the delay. A panic attack began and ended with me in the ER because I legitimately believed I was going to die, and then Halloween happened.
