Outbreak: Hellish Hate

Two years. For two years I’ve had to wear this black leather collar. For two years, I’ve been stuck inside my own candy shop And watch it so the new kind of “candy” that’s been sold in it. It is in a candy shop anymore, it’s a place where ponies and caribou go to buy slaves. Call me Lyra’s weird-ass fiancé, but I really fucking hate it here. Oh, I’m Sweetie Drops by the way! My cutie mark is three bonbons, which is the name I currently go by ever since I left the agency. Bon Bon, I mean.

That’s right, I used to be an agent. A secretive agent, but not a “secret” agent per-say. You see, my best friend's fiancé doesn't know it but I used to be exactly like him. I hated the world I lived in. I hated the friendship, I hated the peace, and I really hated everypony living in it. I did, and still, have anger issues that are a serious problem. Through my anger issues, I came close to reducing the population of my hometown. That's when a strange creature that defied logic and magic walked into my roommate's backyard and in my way. I felt better when I killed the thing.

After that night, a stallion in a cheap suit asked me about joining an agency devoted towards the containment and elimination of things like what I saw. I asked if my anger issues would be a problem. He said they’d be an advantage. I signed a contract and went through training that went on for ten months. What I did during the training doesn't matter, what does matter is that I almost have a handle on my anger. Almost.

I eventually retired, purchased an old bakery, stole my old gear, and started a candy shop. The problem was that I still hated everypony. Then I met the mare who I now can call my best friend…

I wish she would be my girlfriend, but she doesn't swing that way…

Apparently, Lyra’s into redeeming the damned. Why she’s going to marry Allen B. Busterfield is beyond me, that guy's an asshole who put his homeland through a nuclear winter. But whatever Lyra did to me, she did to her fiancé. Still, fuck that guy.

Anyways, like I said, I retired and started a new life as Bon Bon.

That was ten years, six months, and nineteen days ago. Today, I’m taking my shop back. I paid off the mortgage literally a week before the invasion, and I’m pissed off over the situation. I’ve been pissed ever since. My old gear is all nicely set up in my basement, waiting for me to put it back on and I’m no longer going to keep it waiting. I’m going to show the Caribou why the name Sweetie Drops is known in The Wastelands. I’m going to show them all that I changed my name for a reason.

Right now, I’m sitting in a corner with a cone on my head that says “dunce” on it and a black collar around my neck with a shocker attachment. I have no other clothes on my body because my “owner” doesn't think that any of his “property” needs them. My “owner” is a caribou rental slaver. You can rent a slave for whatever you want, so long as it doesn't breach his contract. I’m not a rental slave though, he just likes to torment me and use my throat as a cock warmer. This has been going on for one year, eleven months, and sixteen days. That's going to stop now. And I’m going to stop it now.

My “owner” sees a customer walk into the store, a brainwashed stallion who used to be Carmel. Did you know that they brainwash the gay to being straight? Carmel used to be a gay construction worker who went to the club every night to get lucky until the invasion. Now Carmel has a bad reputation for braking mares. And I mean literally breaking them. I see my “owner” walk to the back and pull out Derpy- Okay, fuck this. We’re not going to play the right-moment game… Shit, I have to don't I. You can't sneak away after slaughtering your owner and his customer. Don't worry Derpy, I’ll come for you. But first, I’ve got to grab my gear.

A few minutes have passed, Derpy sucked off her current renter, and the two have left the building. My owner left for the bathroom! Perfect! I get out of my chair and the shocker turns on. It's a sequential shocker, the pain will only go up from here. I don't care for the pain. I walk over to a certain point on the wall of my store and I slam it with my fist as hard I can. A section of the wall pushes in and falls down, leaving an opening that I slide through. After I climb down the bricks of the tight space to the basement, I make it to the actual basement…

My basement. I made it myself. The constitution took one month and three days. I dug it deep enough to be able to go unnoticed so that not even my old boss could find it. It's a rather large room with only one wall holding my gear. On that wall is my old uniform: a set of tan painted Kevlar laminated titanium armor plates with shock absorbing foam over a layer of medical foam. Next to the armor is a folded set of pants and a combat shirt with no pockets. The pockets are on the armor plates because of how often we were in full kit. The entire point of this armor is to allow an agent to sustain constant combat capability against the unknown. The set I have comes with mountaineering modifications for increased mobility and traction with the utility belt featuring a special tip to replace on the bolt of my crossbow. The armor is supposed to come with a removable pack, but I’m not going to be needing it.

It takes a good half-hour to put on my kit when I begin to notice a voice in my head. Whoever you are, you're not controlling me. The first thing that tried it is locked in a special cell now.

I not looking for conflict right now. At least, not with you.

I turn around to see a floating blue cat in a black and red jumpsuit, “Wait, what the fuck?”

I Dex-Starr. I Red Lantern. The floating cat points to a large, muscular, fat-lipped alien who is also wearing a black and red jumpsuit, only this jumpsuit appears to be armor plated. He Atrocitous.

“First off, you mean Dexter. Second off, you're talking about Allen?”

I Dex-Starr, Wretched Pony Cur!

“Hey, good kitties watch their language,” I say while the cat lunges at me. He's held in place by a red aura while the red alien raises his fist and a red ring on his hand glows.

“Stand-down, Dex-Starr.” The big, red thing to put Big Mac to shame says as it steps forward, “Do not antagonize him, lest you wish for your bones to be his next meal.”

“I’m talking to a telepathic cat and a big bald alien.” I say to the two, “I’m trying to kill my owner before he notices me, what do you want?”

“Allen Baxter Busterfield.” The alien says rather informatively with a really raspy voice. My guess is that he’s used to yelling, “I am Atrocitous! Leader of the Red Lantern Corps! Allen Busterfield’s rage is going to tear through the town of Ponyville as he commits righteous genocide, and it is over the loss of the ones who he remembers as his friends.”

“Bullshit, he only cares for Lyra.”

“Not quite. He cares for Lyra, but Allen still cares for you and others as well. I intend on watching him become a Red Lantern with Dex-Starr. However, for you, I have a separate task.”

“Hey, you can't just send me to do whatever you want me to do, especially when I barely know you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got-“

“You are to ruin a slave deal. Your current master is losing money because of your constant interruptions and is selling your friends to a man who has a casualty count high enough to sound cliché. His previous victims demand vengeance, and you shall deliver it!”

I take a moment and consider his offer. If Lyra’s fiancé is going back to setting nations on fire, I want to see it for myself. But if I get to theatrically splatter my boss, kill an asshole, and save my friends, then I’m all ears. But that's the problem. I don't know what I want more.

“Clearly there's a lot in store for me if I agree, but what about Lyra?” I ask, wanting to know more, “You probably know about her, and obviously know her fiancé.”

“Ah, the best part about my offer!” The alien says with a big toothy, evil-ish smile on his fat lipped face, “Your presence is still necessary for Allen to become a Red Lantern! You shall fight beside me as you prove your might to those who used to protect the wretch known as Dainn! Champions set all throughout Ponyville waiting for a challenge, and you shall provide it! Today Shall Be A Day Of Days! A Tale Of Truly Legendary Proportions!!”

I don't know if evil is the word to use on this guy. He seems like somepony trying to do the right thing; he's offering a plan to help me with what I want to do, his letting me takedown Dainn’s Elites, and he's got plans to make Allen into something that sounds big… But I’m still curious about something.

“What are you going to do in all this, Mr. Atrocitous?” I asked my question. Time for his answer.

“I am going to guide Allen so that he may kill only the deserving. Only those with victims that demand justice! And you may witness it all at your leisure.” Atrocitous says, proudly lifting the hand with a big red ring on it into the air.

“… Okay, I’m in.” I think Allen might be an asshole, but I don't actually hate him. I never did. I just hope that Atrocitous doesn't abuse my trust.

You apologize about calling Dex-Starr “Dexter”, yes?

“Don't push your luck, Dex-Starr. Ms. Bon Bon does not understand your situation.” Atrocitous says, probably trying to stop him from making a stupid mistake.

Fine. Stupid pony. The cat looks me in the eyes, You make no challenge to me, anyway.

I ignore the remark and return to setting myself up, drawing my crossbow and crossbow pistols. My armor features magic enhancements that allow me to put my crossbow on my back and my pistols on the sides of my legs, all without holsters. The EPA armor didn’t come with that, I had it added later by a friend.

“So, where do I start?” I ask, awaiting instruction.

“For now, you shall accompany me as I observe and guide Allen.” Atrocitus informs, “From there, you shall spot the first of men four men who have brought much suffering to your kind and avenge their victims.” Atrocitous points his ring behind me and opens a portal made from what I think is blood, “I trust that you shall not do anything against my wishes?”

“As long as I’m no one’s slave."

"You are your own master. Tell me, would you prefer to go by Sweetie Drops or Bon Bon?"

I had to think about it for a while. If I'm going back to my old life, I might as well go back to Agent Sweetie Drops. But thinking about it, I wonder about the agency. I'll have to check on them when I'm done working with Atrocitous. I'd make up a superhero name, but let's be honest. I wasn't a hero before, and I'm not about to be one. Besides, not all saviors are superheroes.

"... Call me by my old designation. Agent Sweetie Drops."