Mad Mare

It was quiet. Not the uneasy quiet that foreshadows a dreadful end, but a peaceful, relaxing silence that filled the air, carried on chilly streams of a night breeze. The glowing pale moon floated high above the horizon, peeking shamefully through the cotton candy clouds that looked blue in their own shadows. The refreshing smell of clear air filled the mare’s lungs. She was cold, her body was trembling viciously in the near-zero temperatures of the Wasteland’s after dark. Her near closed wounds were still trickling. Most of her body ached with every step as the near-empty canteens bumped against her sides inside the saddlebags. The heavy shackles clinked on her hooves. The collar weighed mare’s neck down. The torn steel muzzle on her face shone in the moonlight like a mouth full of pearly white fangs of a wild beast, polished by the sandstorm she lived through. Her once white clothes had gone black from all the dried up and crumbling blood that had begun to decompose.

She was walking for almost an entire day with only a single fifteen-minute break to eat the one-meal rations Spike offered. The map turned out to be useless in the end as well. The mare had no idea where she started from nor had she spotted any memorable landmarks on the way, just the infinite dunes of sand and rocky hills.

Her lips were murmuring something incomprehensible, her ears perking up one moment and falling flat against her head the other, her head twitching infrequently as if shaking off an annoying interlocutor.

“Shut up!” She finally burst, her voice like a spoonful of alfalfa honey on a sore throat. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Her words sounded hoarse and weak from dehydration on fatigue.

She dropped to the ground, covering her ears with her hooves. The sand on top of the dune began to drift, picking up the mare and carefully washing her down to the bottom. The saddlebags sipped off, surfing the sands right beside her; a small gleaming metal locket the shape of a heart falling out of her white robes and onto her chest, dangling on a petite chainlet. Shining goldenrod olive branches and a six-point star with one of the beams longer than the others, enchased the rim of the heart, contrasting on its lustrous licorice crystalline texture.

She sprung up, her head near the ground like a cat sneaking up on an unsuspecting little bird. “You are doubting yourself.” Her voice grew lower, rougher, more arrogant.

Her stances changed in an instance, taking up the look of a cornered and soon to be eaten rodent. “I’m not!”

“Then how come I am here? No longer able to contain me?” Her lower lip dropped mockingly.

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear this anymore!”

“Why lie to yourself? You are scared...” She analyzed her hoof, “Scared to die in the middle of nowhere. Scared to die alone.”

“I’m not dying here! Not like this.”

“Not if I can do something about it.”

“I’m never letting you control my body.”

“A day or more of mindless wondering and you will have no choice but to lose control.”

“Never!”

“You know you need me, you cannot survive without me.” She said calmly.

“You need me, not the other way around!”

“You know that is not true. I’m what this body ever was, is and always will be; you are just the product of naive ambitions of mom and dad... And you know where those got them.”

“Don’t you dare drag our parents into this.” It looked like she was expecting a comeback, but nobody came. Wind puffed lightly as if sighing at her.

Her gritting teeth relaxed. She looked around: quiet nothingness, but a single muffled sound she could not place together. Then it hit her. An engine running on idle. She threw the saddlebags on with a single sweeping motion and galloped towards the sound. The sound grew closer with each passing step, only a small hill stood in between it and the mare. She dashed onto it like a mountain goat. In front of her, just a few hundred meters away, stood an old abandoned village. Just a dozen concrete two-story boxes lined up in an equal sign and a big square building at the end of the two rows. Remnants of broken down scattered asphalt were all that was left of the road that once connected the structures together. There was no intact window in sight. All the concrete was worn off and beginning to crumble. A three-wheel tanga was parked in the middle of the street, engine idly purring under the driver’s seat. There was no one in sight.

The mare sneaked towards the nearest building. It was quiet. She peeked through an empty window frame beside her. Nothing. She paused, thinking for a moment, before jumping inside as quietly as possible. The insides were empty, what could have been taken was taken, what could have been painted was painted, what could be broken was broken. The walls were layered with graffiti of vulgar language and inappropriate drawings of various body parts. A thick layer of disturbed dust covered the surprisingly intact floor. Everything was covered in hoofsteps. A pile of decaying planks that once were a cupboard piled a corner.

The mare left the room, ending up in a long hallway that crossed the building. She moved cautiously alongside it, avoiding entering the rooms. In the middle of the corridor, she saw a staircase leading upstairs. The second floor looked identical to the first one. There were loud voices at the end of the hallway, a male and a female chatting about something, their voices echoing from the walls too much to understand what they were saying. The mare sneaked closer, standing just beside an empty doorway into the room where others stood.

“Eh… I ain’t ‘bout dis one, it’s too plain.” The male voice considered.

“Tiss a’t. Someone’ll buy it.” The female replied.

“If ya wanna take it, take it, but I ‘ain’t holding it.”

“Fine...” The female audibly rolled her eyes.

The room was similar to others with a few differences. The window was still intact, though cracked and dirty. Several piles of planks occupied the corners. One of the walls had overcoat hangers on it. Opposite to it was an empty door frame that led to the next room with another hole, and another until the last room on the second floor.

The talking couple was so rowdy, the mare did not hear a pony approach her from behind. “Well aye the’e!” A hoof fell on her shoulder, pushing her inside the room.

She fell onto the middle of the floor, seeing the one who pushed her. It was a periwinkle earth pony stallion with a rather similar physique to that of the mare. He was standing on his hind legs to seem as tall and intimidating as possible. His long kobicha overcoat stretched down to his knees. Tough guards covered his shoulders, sewed into the coat, just like the chest, back and front leg guard plates. The front was unbuttoned, revealing a tough brown vest, tucked into mud colored pants with similar plating on the hind legs and flanks, and secured with a leather belt. An overcoat color cavalry ranger hat set tightly above his hazel eyes and an arrogant smug on his face.

“Bitch was eayvesd’oppin’.” He announced with a rolling southern accent.

“Well, well, well, what do we have ‘ere?” The female unicorn stepped onto the mare’s shoulder, looking down on her with yellowish eyes, “No weapons, no armor...” She was about the same size as the pale-mauve mare. Her short cherry coat swayed in a sudden breeze. Her torso was covered in a shirt made from a camo backpack, with various straps and fasteners wrapped around her body. Her legs were covered in similar fabric. Unicorn’s shoulders, flanks, and hind legs were coated with makeshift guards cut out from car tires.

“Saddlebags empty too.” A greenish earth pony stallion dressed the same as the unicorn checked looked through the bags.

“Ya’ lost, little ladey?” The blue stallion chuckled, “Need help findin’ home?”

“What’s with muzzle and irons?”

“T’aitah. With high octane blood, ey?”

“She don’t look like much.”

“Bitch p’ob’s from Citadel.”

“Bullet Farm maybeh?”

“Ain’t matte’ now.”

“Oh, wat dis?” The unicorn glanced at the mare’s chest, “Ya’ brought meh a present?” She snatched the black locket. The pale-mauve mare threw her hoof, but was pushed back into the floor with unicorns hind leg, “Ah, ah, ah! Mine now.” She said playfully. Seeing the green pony leave, she announced, “I’m outa’ ‘ere. Waitin’ for ya’ in car, Butch.”

“Give meh thi’ty min.” The blue stallion replied.

“Ya’ flatte’ yaself.”

“Ya’ ‘aight, gimmi fou’ty five.”

Leaving, the unicorn rolled her eyes, watched by the bluish stallion. He strolled towards the wall, hanging his overcoat - nine locks of hair stitched to its inside - and the hat on top of it. His long black mane, tied into a ponytail, fell down on his back. As he approached, the mare backed off, dragging on the floor. And she snapped. The dragging burden of fear gave way to the haste of surprising curiosity. She grinned like a maniac, her face hidden by the floor. “You’ve lost control...” She muttered.

“Now listen ‘ere.” The stallion began, “I know ya sca’ed, I know ya we’e in w’ong place at w’on’ time, but I don’ give a shit. We'll ‘ave bit of fun, ey? I’ll fuck eve’y hole ya have and then I’ll just keep makin’ mo’e holes to fuck until ya nothin’ but a ‘iddled co’pse full of blood and semen.”

“Oh, that sounds just fantastic!” She sprung upright, clapping her hooves, “Haven’t had that kind of fun in ages, would be a shame to pass such a plentiful opportunity that so willingly presented itself, wouldn’t it?” She beamed.

The stallion got a little startled for a moment, not expecting such a sudden turn of events. He shrugged, seeing the pale-mauve mare smiling flirtingly, her hooves behind her back, her hind leg drawing a crescent moon on the floor.

“Well?” She chimed, “Are you coming?”

“Don’ ‘ave to ask meh twice.” Butch began to approach her.

“Ah-ah-ah.” The mare stopped him, “Lose your clothes, that will make my job much easier.”

And so he obeyed. Quite eagerly, in fact. Little did the stallion expect a hoof in his face. And then a second, and a third. He hit the wall, stupefied and hurting. The mare approached slowly, moving the dispensed clothes away from him with a swift motion of the hoof.

“Ya mad?!” The periwinkle earth pony cried, rubbing his cheek by the wall.

“I’m sorry, love, got a bit rusty there… Or… Oh, wait! You thought I’m gonna fuck you, didn't you?” She guffawed, “Oh that’s golden!”

“Ya bitch!” He attempted a punch.

The mare, quick on her hooves, slid aside, letting the stallion pass by. Her hoof wrapped under his shoulder in a deadly dance as the other borrowed itself into the muscle above the scapula. Butch cried out. The mare let go, not a care in mind, and for a reason. The earth pony was frozen in place, not able to fight nor fall.

“What was that? What ya done to meh?!” He demanded.

“That, my dear, was an advanced zebra martial arts technique.” The mare strolled towards the window.

“Who a’e ya?” The implications of that simple phrase washed over him.

“How many mares and fillies had you had this kind of ‘fun’ with before now?”

No response.

“I would answer that if I were you, you saw what I did, but not what I'm capable of. And trust me, you don't want to find out. So tell me.”

“Fou’…” The periwinkle stallion snorted under his breath.

“Liar.” She glared. “I don't like liars.”

“Nine…” He muttered.

“Excuse me? I didn't quite get that.” A jolt of an elbow and one of the two layers of glass cracked and shattered. “Speak clearer.”

“Nine.” He regretted.

The mare chose the biggest and clearest shard to pick up and examine, all while trotting back to her victim. The stallion’s eyes were petrified, sweat dripping down his forehead like droplets of rain on the leaves of a young tree. He obediently opened his mouth as the mare’s hoof caressed his chin; his body was trembling from dismay, unable to flee or even move.

“To answer your earlier question.” The mare carefully placed the shared on his tongue, closing the mouth with light pressure. Butch’s eyes screamed for her to spare him, not to do what she was about to. “I am the consequences for your reprobate acts. I, my sweet little pony, am your own personal damnation.” Her smile was sweet and warm, yet terrifyingly cold. Petrifying calm and justified sadistic intentions were all she was at the moment.

Like a bolt of lightning, her hoof collided with Butch’s jawline. The stallion cried out in agony, a spray of fresh crimson red, glistening with splinters and specs of ground glass, splashed from his mouth. Streams of blood ran down his lips and cheeks. Razor-sharp fragments of the former window stung and borrowed themselves deep into the soft tissues of the mouth. Small translucent pieces stuck out of his gums and lips. His tongue was riddled and lacerated with holes and grazes.

“This is fun!” The mare sparkled, “I told you we'd have fun. And just think of all the possibilities! I can pull out your teeth, scrape out your eyes, hang you on the overcoat hooks by your spatulas, break your bones, pierce your hooves and the list just. Keeps. Going. On!” She spun around in excitement like an elegant whirligig wound up by a lively child.

Little did she notice that the paralysis began to wear off as a rotten wooden plank greeted her face mid-spin, shattering and flying in every direction. The mare fell on her chest, propelled and twisted by the attack. A hurt scowl escaped her tightly shut lips, her teeth ground from the pain. Her head spun, a nauseating feeling filled her stomach, only made worse by the ringing in her ears. Her vision was foggy and blurry as she attempted to concentrate on the now free periwinkle earth pony.

He was already grabbing another plank from one of the piles. Clenched tightly in his teeth, the long deformed piece of decayed wood crumbled ever so slightly as a thin film of a century old dust blew off in puffy clouds along with his breath. Thin streaks of blood dripped from the edges of his mouth and down the lumber’s length. His tormentor that scared him a moment ago was weak, wavering, fragile. She was no longer an untouchable demon, she was just a mare. A mare that bled, a mare that swayed under pressure, a mare that could be killed. And he was not about to miss his chance at payback.

Her eyes rose up towards the stallion, looking with clarity and desire to hurt, looking straight into his soul. The stallion stopped, stumbling back slightly as the cloth around mare’s head came undone, untwisting and falling off of her head.

“What…” The stallion stuttered, “What da fuck are ya?”

“You know where I came from...” The mare huffed, still sick from the head trauma, “Now ask yourself three questions... First, ‘how did she get here?’ Second, ‘whose blood is she covered in?’ And the final one, ‘do I feel lucky?’” She gave a tired smirk. “Well, do ya, punk?”

She stepped forward. The stallion backed away and kept stepping back with every step the mare made forward until he hit the half broken window. She raised on the hind legs, standing tall above her opponent.

The stallion pounced back. The glass behind him shattered, letting him through. He fell two floors, onto the hard concrete down below. Sounds of commotion arose, followed by the soft roaring of an engine that quickly disappeared into the vastness of the Wasteland.

“I can’t believe that actually worked…” The mare stumbled back. Her legs gave in and she descended, laying flat on the floor. An exhale of relief and tiredness escaped her lips. “I know…” She hushed, “Don't have to nag me about it, that's my job. He had it coming. What? No! Of course not. He tried to rape me, did you think I would just let him do it?” She cringed at an awful headache, “This is going to hurt for a while…”

The mare slowly got up, heading towards the abandoned clothes. Wobbling and stumbling, she reached the regalias, looking over them with determined curiosity. The wardrobe was surprisingly well taken care of. Clean and clear in colors, it was almost like they did not belong in this collapsed and decaying world.

“Of course I couldn’t just kick him and run away, that’s your approach to troubles.”

She emerged from her blood-stained linen robes, revealing the colors that were hidden until then, before closing her eyes in an attempt to ease the migraine. She had a slim and fit alicorn-like figure. A knee-high white sock-like coat pigmentation on her hooves matched a heart shape white coloration that covered her chest.

“You saw his ‘trophies,’ someone had to make things right.”

The pants slipped on without any struggle, sewed in guard plates clinging quietly in the process. They fit her quite well; slightly loose around the waist. After securing them with the belt, the mare moved onto the vest. It had 2 thin layers of fabric, enforced with multiple stitching and light plating. It felt comfortable on her coat and skin, like silk but slightly rougher. The overcoat was heavy and bulky but provided much-needed protection that the mare didn’t have, not to mention it suited her quite well and was a good fit overall.

“No, I don’t call that justice, he ran away. And yes, I am going after him.”

She folded her old clothes and placed them into the empty saddlebags before picking up the long piece of cloth that was covering her head a moment ago. She stiffly wrapped it around her scalp and the same eye as before. The cavalry ranger hat crowned the wrapped head. The hat was modified as well. A thin layer of tough rubber covered the inner side of the headwear, attached to relatively comfortable ear straps. The periwinkle earth pony knew how to dress in class, he also knew better than leave himself unprotected: a basic protective spell enchantment covered his attire. It was weak, not even able to stop a small bullet but provided protection nonetheless. And now, with his generous donation, the pale-mauve mare had some armor at last.

“Not bad…” She admired her new attire.

The mare left the building. Moving along the road, she looked around. All the buildings looked looted and vandalized beyond the point of having anything useful inside them. She stopped before the main structure in the miniature village. A square building, easily the size of the entire settlement. Made entirely out of concrete, it stood seven stories high in all of its brutalist glory. Five floors were identical. Tall and thin frosted windows, caved in like arrow slits on the side of a fortress, lined on the facade like cells on a beehive. The top floor was higher, though smaller in the area, with walls running at an angle. The structure stood on a tall first floor, retracted deep into the building's outline. Twelve monumental rectangular columns the size of a small house supported it. It was dark grey, looking like a ghost under the night sky.

The mare walked closer. The edge of tons upon tons of old concrete loomed over her head. Clean and somewhat smooth letters the size of mare's head read “Department of Health and Pony Services.” She came closer to what once was the entrance to the building. A spacious door frame designed to accommodate a restless flow of ponies in and out of the premises was completely sealed with dark metal doors that had a crystalline look to them and were overlaid with some sort of transparent material. Beside them, an engraving on a rectangular plate read “Cherry C. Chairmare Building. Department of Health and Pony Services: Mild Western Headquarters.” Under it - a small display panel, protected by a thick layer of glass. It was all scratched, flat marks from shots that bounced off dotted its entirety.

“Bulletproof glass...” The mare pointed out in a thoughtful manner.

The panel was dead, not broken: it looked completely intact, but dead nonetheless. The doors looked like someone tried to disassemble them, but vainly, only leaving a couple of scratches and burn marks on the surface. Mare slid her hoof along the surface. The texture was strange, it felt she was touching a soft fabric whilst the material was absolutely smooth and inflexible. The exterior gleamed ever so slightly. Small hairs on the tip of her leg swayed timidly towards the material. The dam took off the cavalry ranger hat and tapped the door with it. The hat bounced back, falling out of the grip of her teeth. A barely visible film sparkled where the hat touched the surface.

She picked the cavalry ranger hat up, putting it on, and moved along the wall. Peeking around a corner, she saw a crater in the wall, surrounded by cracks and crevices. Somebody tried another way to get into the building - blowing a hole in it. Unfortunately for them, they were greeted with a layer of the same unusual metal.

“What kind of disaster was this thing supposed to live through?” The mare whispered with an almost horrified tone to it, taking a step back. “I should get the locket back before I come back...” She turned away, starting off after the tracks the tanga left behind.

The buildings grew smaller and darker until they faded away into the night like ghosts of the past they were. Scenic peaceful sands and rocky hills spun towards the horizon only disturbed by the tire tracks. Night slowly passed, giving way to the morning light. It bathed the infinite covers of decayed rock into a warm shade of red, growing warmer with each passing minute until it looked like the last day.

Three streaks of zagged imprints spilled towards an opening in two high red rocks. The looked like a natural colosseum the size of a small mountain. Metal arcs and rings, connected with twisted pipes and beams laid across the on the quarry like a decayed carcass of a giant serpent. The beast’s head was missing entirely; the tail tipping over from the side where lines of creatures were conglomerating. The entrance. Small streaks of smoke escaped the pit.

This was a town. The town where the tanga went and where the pale-mauve mare was heading now.