The car's front wheel hit the sidewalk, the shocks letting out a muffled metallic groan. Greg stepped on the brake, stopping right before his garage and engaging the handbrake.

He allowed his head to fall back and rest against his seat, closing his eyes, taking in a deep breath, and letting out a long sigh.

A slight headache appeared, making him curse his brain and its willingness to start to hurt out of the blue. The annoying pain inside his head made him acknowledge the slight burning sensation in his shoulders and neck.

The stiffness in his shoulders made him recall the work day that had just ended. He pondered on the progress made and the tasks accomplished, feeling a small lightness inside his chest as his evaluation of the day was rather positive.

He breathed slowly, the hum of the idle engine making him relax. His eyelids felt heavy, and his thoughts become foggy. He shot his eyes open and leaned forward, realising he was drifting away from consciousness when he started to question why the engine was making any noise at all.

He brought his hands to his face, slowly rubbing his face and planning his next few steps until later that night, when he'd have his usual walk with Twilight.

His attention was brought to the passenger door by the noise of it being pulled open. His sight instantly locked on the barrel of the gun that was being pointed at him, a cold pit forming and deepening inside his guts.

He looked up to the face of gun's wielder, his eyes locking with the dark-haired man's as he entered the car.

"Drive," said the man, pulling his door closed.

Greg remained in silence, staring at the man as his mind unscrambled itself from the shock.

"I told you to DRIVE," the man insisted, forcing the barrel of his gun against Greg's temple.

"Why?" said Greg, his mind starting to work again.

"Because I told you so. And if you take a minute longer to drive us out of here, I'll go inside your house and kill that purple horse."

Greg's body tensed up and he kept staring at the strange man in disbelief as that last statement was processed by his mind.

"Yeah. I know about it. I'm going to kill it, unless you drive this fucking car. Now DO IT!"

Greg stared fixedly at the man as his mind started to craft horrid images of the man hurting Twilight, making him feel cold flashes inside his chest.

He pursed his lips staring at the man with narrowed eyes. He slowly put his left hand back onto the steering wheel, shifted the car in reverse, and drove off.

"Here's good," said the man, waving his gun for Greg to stop.

The man looked around, scanning the outside for anyone that could see them. The street was deserted, their only company the decaying buildings around them.

"Cut the engine," said the man, looking back at Greg. He brought his hand to the ignition, reluctantly turning it.

"Okay, old man, now you better listen. That horse belongs to the Blood Seekers, and we want it back. So, you're going to move your old, wrinkly ass, and bring it to us, got it?"

Greg narrowed his eyes as he heard that. "The Blood Seekers?"

"Yeah, you old fuck. That's the name of my gang."

"A gang? But... why would your gang want her?"

"Didn't you listen to me? I just told you it BELONGS to us!"

"No, she doesn't."

"Yes, it does. And you gonna bring it to us. Peacefully."

"I'm not bringing her to you. You better forget it."

"Do you have any idea who we are, huh? Any idea who my boss is?"

"No."

"Then let me tell you. Kevin always gets what he wants."

Greg remained in silence.

"And he doesn't care about who he has to get rid of to get what he wants."

Greg kept staring at him.

"And he wants that thing back. And he wants YOU to bring it to him."

"Then you'll need to tell your boss he's not having her."

In a sudden move the man punched Greg's right cheek, throwing him against his door and making him cover his face with his right arm.

"What about that, huh!? Are you done playing the brave man!?"

"Motherfucker," whispered Greg, holding his right cheek.

"We're not giving you an option here. You better take the chance we’re giving you to resolve this peacefully and bring it to us."

Greg's cheek began to throb, making his mind go over his options. The man had the upper hand, as he had the gun, and it was always pointed at him. He considered trying to take it away from him, but at that distance he reasoned he'd get shot before getting close enough. Reacting didn't seem like an option. He decided to try to reason with the man instead.

“Why do you want me to bring her?” Greg asked.

“We don’t want to step into that neighborhood. The police are all around.”

“What if I refuse, then? You just said you can’t--”

“Well, I said we don’t WANT to, but we can. We might need to deal with the police, but we can. And you won’t want us stopping by your house.”

Greg remained in silence for a little while, shuffling his options in his mind.

"Why… why is she so important?"

"'Cause it caused us problems."

"What kind of problems could she have possibly caused to you?"

"That bitch blew everything up. Our house. Our stash. Our money. She hurt my buddies. My best friend lost his hand. And my boss lost some fingers because of that bitch. It's going to pay for what it did."

"She blew up your stuff?"

"Yeah. It exploded everything. I don't know how. It used its horn."

"But..."

"If it had just let us cut its horn out without resisting, we wouldn't be here now. Everything would be fine. This whole thing is its fault."

Greg's jaw dropped slightly and he narrowed his eyes. He remained in silence for a little while.

"JUST cut her horn out!? What for!?"

"Well, my boss thought it was cool, and wanted it. As a souvenir. He didn't want the whole horse. Just the horn."

"You were going KILL her JUST to take her horn!?"

"Yeah, why not? It’s just an animal."

"She's a sentient being, you moron!"

"She exploded my friends!"

"Oh, and you're honestly surprised!? You wanted to kill her! What else did you expect!?"

"It's an animal! It was meant to be killed!"

"You're the one who was meant to be killed!" yelled Greg.

"Oh, oh, oh. Lower your voice," said the main, pointing the gun at Greg's forehead.

Greg kept staring at the man, pursing his lips, feeling his blood start to boil.

"Fuck!" he muttered through his teeth, trying to dissipate some anger.

"I don't care what you think, old man. That thing belongs to us, and we'll get it back. It will pay for what it did."

"I won't let you get near her. Did you hear me!?" Greg said, gritting his teeth.

"You can't do anything about it. All you're doing is delaying the inevitable."

"Fuck you."

"We're gonna skin that bitch alive, break its legs with a sledge hammer. Shove hot iron inside her bones."

"I won't let you!"

"We'll slice it open and pull its insides out. And then we'll hang it on its own intestines."

Greg clenched his fists while staring fixedly at the man.

"We'll make sure that stupid animal feels it all. Nevermind the horn. Only seeing that BITCH scream will be enough. And we already made a long list of what we're going to do. It's gonna be fun."

That last sentence hit Greg in a surreal fashion. He couldn't understand how someone could mix the word fun in the same sentence that mentioned torture, and seem so happy in doing so. His blood was already boiling, and he could hear his heart beats in his ears.

"And after that, who knows?" continued the man, smirking at Greg. "I have friends that are into necrophilia. They can put its corpse to good use."

Greg kept his stare locked on the man's face, and he breathed loudly through his teeth.

"So, that's it. You'll bring that thing to this exact place, next week, understand?"

Greg remained in silence.

"I'm going to accept your silence as understanding," said the man, holstering his gun.

Greg stared fixedly at him, his fists clenched and shaking, his mind overdriven. The words of that man struck him in a way he didn't understand, making his mind, now flooded by the memories of Twilight, distort those fond moments in horrific ways. Tragic outcomes forced their way inside his head, the gory imagery making he question himself that, if what this man told him was true, then Twilight would... they'd kill her.

They'd kill her.

The sentence echoed inside his mind, sounding more and more like the rumble of an lightning that hit the ground right next to him.

The cold feeling inside his chest returned with full force, flushing him out of himself, making him question his own awareness, and if that situation was actually going on. If that was reality.

The slight hope of all that being fake was immediately crushed as he realized how pathetic and useless his attempt at fleeing the situation was. That was reality, and it had to be dealt with.

Little by little, he uncovered the layers of thought he had stacked upon himself, feeling the cold reality strike his chest again. The uncomfortable feeling made his legs and arms go slightly numb. He felt like his whole body was being electrified, and the sensation made him angry.

This is not fair, he thought, feeling his whole body start to heat up.

Suddenly, a shortness of air struck him, making him pant heavily. His body felt heavy and tired all of the sudden. He felt weight over his legs and feet, as if he was standing on them. His arms ached and his shoulders burned as if he had lifted heavy weight.

He looked down. Before him, fallen on the ground next to the passenger door, was the man that just before was pointing a gun at him. Who was threatening him and Twilight.

The man laid on his back, breathing raggedly, his face covered in blood, his nose bent and off-centered.

Greg clenched his fists and felt a sting on his right one. He brought his right hand up and stared in disbelief at his knuckles. They were cut and bruised, and covered in blood.

He tried to reason out what had happened, and how he got out of the tight spot he found himself in mere seconds ago. Forcing himself to remember proved itself fruitless. He had no recollection of what he did. Although there was a hole in his memories, experience had led him deduce what had happened.

He had lost control. The mere realisation masked away his shortness of air and forced in a deep uneasiness, making his mind dwell on that and his thoughts start to race.

The fallen man coughed and let out a moan of pain, bringing Greg out of his introspective state. He snapped at the man's direction, his bloody face reminding Greg of why he was all beaten up, and why he deserved it.

Greg walked closer to the man and grabbed him by his jacket, bringing him over the car's hood, the shock against the car making the man cry desperately.

"Shut up!" yelled Greg, shaking the man by his jacket, making him go silent.

"Now, you... you gonna listen," he said, panting heavily, his face a few inches away from the man. "I'm not fooling... around here. I'm not fooling around."

The man stared at him, wide eyed, his hands and arms curled, shaking uncontrollably, trying to cover his demolished face from any further abuse and stop the torrent of blood that was streaming out of his twisted nose.

"If you... show up near my house ONCE MORE... I swear I'll... crack your skull open and FUCKING STOMP YOUR BRAINS!! DID YOU GET ME!?"

The man nodded, weeping frightfully.

"And you gonna tell this Kevin motherfucker that... it's not a wise move to mess with a mad man. You gonna tell him that if he... shows up... if he tries... ANYTHING... I swear, I'll rip his insides out and PISS ON HIS GUTS!!"

The man agreed energetically while Greg stared fixedly at his eyes, without ever blinking.

"You said your boss doesn't care about who gets in his way. Well, let me tell you, I also have no qualms about who I need to deal with to keep my family safe."

The man kept staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Now fuck off," said Greg, throwing the man to the side.

Greg stared at the fallen man for a few seconds before walking back towards the driver’s door. He stopped dead on his tracks, turning around and trudging towards the fallen man. The gang member cried as he saw Greg approaching.

“Also, old man your ASS!” exclaimed Greg, stopping a few feet away from him, pointing a finger. “I’m only forty-six!”

He walked back to the driver’s door, pulling it open, getting in the car, and them slamming it closed. He grabbed the seatbelt and quickly fastened it before resting his right hand over the ignition. He turned it and looked forward through the windshield, his sight immediately locking on the huge crack spanning across it.

He followed the cracks with his eyes until they landed on a hole. A perfectly round hole.

A bullet hole.

He narrowed his eyes, staring as he puzzled about how that had happened.

He looked around the car for more evidence, his sight locking on a gun on the ground in front of the passenger seat.

He started at the gun for a few seconds before looking forward and driving away.

The car's front wheel hit the sidewalk, making Greg stop. He reached inside his pocket and found the door remote, pressing its little button and making the garage door quickly raise.

He drove the car in, pressing the button again and waiting for the door to fully close before cutting the engine.

He kept his right hand at the ignition and his left hand glued to the steering wheel for a few seconds before letting both fall limply over his lap. His sight remained stuck at the steering wheel as he slowly breathed.

With each breath taken he felt his body settling down from what happened some minutes ago. His mind went over everything that happened, but he couldn't understand how that was possible. He knew it happened, but it all seemed too surreal to believe. All that stuff had happened. He did it all.

He looked down to his right hand, staring at his palm for a few seconds before turning it down. He clenched his fist, feeling a stinging pain on his knuckle. He stared fixedly at his hand, seeing how bruised it had become, analysing the different cuts the teeth of that man had made on his skin, and the stains of blood that covered a few parts of his fingers. He wondered which blood was his and which came from that man, and how his hand didn't hurt while he was punching him.

That made him wonder about the pieces of memory that were missing. He forced himself to remember, concentrating the most he could, but the lacking memories didn't show up. That gap in his mind, and what caused it, made him feel a sudden cold sting on his guts. Knowing that he could lose control like that and not even realise made his mind wander around the memories of Twilight. His mind began to craft horrid images about her, making him feel a tightness on his throat and the cold sensation inside him intensify.

He wanted to forget about that. He wanted to believe that nothing of that had happened, but his tired body wouldn't allow it. His bruised hand was there, proving to him it was all real, and that it wasn't insane to believe it all. He could do it. It was all real. He was a mad man, and the only thing that kept him from causing a tragedy was a layer of reason. His rational mind.

Those thoughts reminded him once again of what happened minutes ago. The reason he had those thoughts. The reason his hand was bruised. The reason he almost punched that man to death. Or why he had a gun pointed to his head for several minutes.

They're after her, the thoughts slowly crept in his head once again.

A cold feeling struck him, making him feel disconnected from his body for a few seconds. He kept staring at the steering wheel with wide eyes while the realisation finally sunk in.

They're coming after, he repeated inside his head. They're after her. She saw them but I dismissed it as nothing.

I'm a fucking moron..., he thought, feeling something start to bubble inside his head.

I'm... a fucking... MORON! he yelled inside his head, slamming both his hands on the rim of the steering wheel.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! he exclaimed to himself in his mind, hitting the border of the steering wheel again and again.

He let his head fall back against his seat, staring at the car's ceiling, feeling a slight shortness of breath.

Shit! What am going to do now?, he thought, bringing both his hands to his head and closing his eyes, taking in long breaths and slowly letting them out.

It's a fucking gang! They will-- NO! They won't get her! I won't let!

But-- Shit! How?!

I-- I gotta think, he thought, unfastening his seatbelt and pushing his door open. He walked in front of his car, stopping dead in his tracks and staring down at a stain of oil. He brought both his hands to the back of his neck, interlacing his fingers and letting out a sigh.

Okay. Focus. This is my problem. I've got to solve it.

First, obvious thing. Warn the cops, again. Explain what happened today. Hopefully they will catch them quickly. I already gave them footage of those fuckers showing up around here, so they know I'm not lying. That's good. That's good.

The camera might have caught the dude showing up in the driveway as well. I guess it’s also a good idea to give that to the police.

He let his hands fall limply, looking up to the ceiling.

Yeah. That's good. But what else? he thought, walking closer to his car's hood and looking down at it for a little while.

They'll probably ask for reasons this gang might be around here. But... how could I... if I were to tell them about Twilight... how... to even explain? They're after a purple alicorn. The police might think this is some kind of drug. Yeah, now that'd be great. Having the police think I'm a drug dealer.

Alright, focus. Telling them won't do me any good. But showing the footage where she appears... that... yeah. I'm sure she was caught by the security camera a few times. An image surely has more worth. I think this would solve this problem. They'd be at least aware of her existence.

They'll... probably knock on our door a few times to see how things are going. What if I'm not home when it happens?

Greg kept pacing in circles in the middle of the garage, bouncing ideas inside his mind for a little while before stopping dead on his tracks.

Okay, I'll need... I'll need to tell her abou-- No. I can't. If she knows about this, she... she's barely getting any sleep as it is. Her nightmares are already keeping her up. That's already hindering her progress on the spell too much. If she knows someone is after her... she won't... manage to sleep anymore. She won't manage to think anymore. Her health will degrade quickly. No. I can't... but... I-I-- she has to... it's not right to keep this from... No. She can't. I can't let her know about this. She has to feel safe.

But if the police shows up... well, she... if I tell her to not answer the door under no circumstances... she might get suspicious. I can't have that happen. Also, if the police were to catch a glimpse of any movement inside the house while I'm gone, they could end up thinking someone broke in. And that would be... bad. Okay, so... what if... I-I could tell her the police is looking for the people that spied in. And that they could show up a few times. Yeah.

He brought his hands up, keeping them on his face for a few seconds, breathing slowly before letting them fall, exhaling loudly.

Also, when I'm not home... she spends a considerable amount of time alone during the day, while I'm at work. That's... my God, how didn't they get her? Shit, I... I fucked up. I really fucked this up. NO! Focus. She... she spends-- she's alone for a good part of her day. Having her alone is dangerous.

The police will probably suggest she be taken someplace else. Or maybe both of us. But...

Witness protection program? Uh... no. We don't qualify. We don't have any meaningful information. We're just not important. It's more likely to just have the police step up their presence here. Yeah.

Regardless, I guess I could call Stevie, tell him what's going on. He... no, but if... if she moves away, even for a little while... she'll wonder why. If she finds out why... I... I can't have her think she's not safe! No, I...

"Shit!" he whispered to himself, starting to walk in circles.

Okay, focus. Even if I... if I moved away with her... that would still raise questions. She'd start to get suspicious.

He sat down on the tip of his car's hood and rested his forearms over his thighs, interlacing his fingers and letting out a sigh. He eyed around the garage, seeing how the sunlight coming through the garage door's window was ceasing to exist. He looked down to the floor, trying to focus himself once more.

Alright. I'll need to stay close to her. And moving away doesn’t seem like an option. I'll... , he trailed, eyeing around the garage, gauging his options.

I'll ask to work most of the day from home. I'm sure they won't mind some remote work done for a few weeks. Assuming this is how long it'll take, but... yeah. I guess that'll let me stay close to her as much as possible.

He let out a sigh, standing up and walking around his car, stopping front of the passenger's door.

Yeah, I think that sort of works. Call the cops and stay home as much as possible.

He made his way to the side door before halting on his tracks.

And call Stevie. He needs to know about this too.

He stood still for a little while, staring blankly at the door, his mind still at full steam.

Maybe... I think it's a good idea to put some better locks on the doors. And some bars on the windows. That will make it impossible for them to break in. Well, not without the proper tools. But then, that guy said they didn't want to attract any kind of attention, so blowing up a wall or… yeah, doesn't seem like an option for them. She'll... probably wonder about all this added security...

I guess I could... well, she doesn't know the gang is after her, but she DOES know that someone spied in. So... I believe I can use that as a justification. Yeah. Seems about right.

He let out a sigh before giving a short nod and energetically pulling the door open. He stepped out the garage and headed towards the backdoor, walking confidently now that he had the situation under control. He subconsciously started to go over the details of his plan, and every time he went over, his confidence wore away a little bit.

He stopped in front of the backdoor, with his hand over the doorknob. He kept staring at it for a little while, feeling the pit deepen inside him as that whole situation started to repeat on his mind.

He tried to reassure himself that he was going to solve this, but the hopelessness inside him had already corroded all his confidence.

"Greg?" slurred Twilight from the couch, staring at Greg. The sound of her voice made him stop, bringing his train of thoughts to a full halt. He eyed around, realising in a bit of a surprise that he had stepped into the kitchen, and was standing right before the staircase. He looked at Twilight, and kept staring at her as she squeezed her eyes shut and stretched her legs the most she could, letting out a content sigh.

"Hey," she said, getting up from the couch and walking towards him. "I made some pancakes. Well, I tried. Cooking was never my thing, heh. I was going to wait for you but... uh... I was hungry, so I already ate. They're probably a bit cold now, but they're still good," she said cheerfully, smiling at him. Her smile slowly wore away as her sight locked on his right cheek.

“What happened to your cheek?”

“My… my cheek?” he said, bringing his right hand up, touching his face.

“Greg, your hand,” said Twilight on a concerned tone, walking closer to him. Greg widened his eyes slightly when he realised she had noticed his bruises. He lowered his hand, trying to discreetly hide it behind him.

"What happened to you? Are you okay? You’re a bit pale."

Greg kept staring at her, his mind stuck on what the man said, her face making him recall all the good memories he had with her. Her smile, her voice. Her laugh. They'll all be gone if they get her.

"Greg, hey," she said, standing on her hind legs and resting her forehooves over Greg's shoulders, staring directly at his eyes.

"Greg!"

"Uh?"

"Are you okay?"

"I... I'm... okay."

She stepped away from him, her sight remaining stuck at his face for a few instants before trailing around his body, trying to find the cause of his strange behaviour.

"What happened to your hand? To your face?"

"Uh... I… " he trailed, bringing his right hand up, covering his knuckle with his left hand. "Uh... it's... I... I fell."

"You fell?"

"Yeah. I fell. I fell at the office. I was... stepping down the stairs at the office when I was coming back home and I... slipped. And... rolled down the stairs."

"Did falling cause all those bruises?"

"Yeah... uh... but I'm alright. Don't worry."

Twilight kept staring at him, narrowing her eyes slightly and raising an eyebrow.

Greg kept staring at her, his stare switching between her eyes as his mind wandered away and recalled what the gang member said.

Why they want to do that with her? It's not fair, he said, feeling a tightness in his chest.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she said, the sound of her voice making him snap out of his mind once more. "You're acting really strange."

He remained in silence for a little while before walking closer to her and scratching the back of her left ear, feeling a smile make its way to his face as he started to recall all the times he had scratched her soft fur. The lightness inside his chest soon vanished alongside his smile, and a sudden weight appeared over his shoulders, making his body feel heavy and unresponsive.

Her soft fur made him remember his situation. He had a problem to deal with. Her safety was in his hands. And if he were to fail, she'd pay the price. He had a plan, but he didn't trust it. He didn't manage to convince himself he had a chance.

"Uh... listen..." he said, stopping his scratching and giving a small pat on her head. "I uh... sorry for keeping you waiting."

"Oh, it's alright."

"We had a uh... last minute meeting at the office, and... yeah, it surely drained me. So I was wondering if we could... if we could skip our walk tonight."

"Sure."

He gave her a short nod before turning towards the staircase, slowly walking it up.

"Uh, and..." he said, stopping and turning around.

"Hmm?"

"The doors... could you lock'em?"

"Mhm."

"Thanks," he said, resuming his way upstairs.

Author's Note

Well... surprise! A chapter. After six months. Yay.