Chapters Marked Target
I’m not exactly what you’d call a normal pony. I grew up rich and motherless (my mom died giving birth to me), I served a stint in the Royal Equestrian Armed Forces when I came of age – that’s kind of a family tradition – and now I fight crime. That last part is what really makes me abnormal.
Right now you’re probably thinking I was some spec-ops badflank and I used my training to beat up and/or kill criminals and get away with it right? You wouldn’t be that far from the truth.
I guess I should probably start at the beginning, huh?
Well, when I came back from my second tour, I took the chance to go into the reserves, and moved back to Manehattan. My dad could’ve gotten me some sweet-flank, high-paying job, but he opted to not hire me and let me fend for myself. So I worked a slightly lower paying gig as a janitor for some school. Thanks dad!
Maybe I should explain who my dad is. His name is Hard Target. Yeah, that Hard Target, the CEO of Target Enterprises, that one megacorporation that makes and sells almost everything.
Anyways, I’d just gotten out of a taxi to go to my dentist. “Big Bicuspid’s Discount Dentistry – Family owned and operated!”. The sign had been vandalized recently, the letters “B”, “D”, “S”, and “M” highlighted in red. Immature, yeah, but I laughed my flank off anyway. If only all criminals were this harmless and funny.
Outside it was raining, like it had been all week. Hey, at least it broke that drought and heat wave. ‘Course, it was pretty friggin' cold, it being New Yoke and all. I was wearing my olive drab Haylo: Reach Beta Tester hoodie to keep the rain out of my face and my body warm. I’m a pretty avid gamer.
I walked into the building, and took the hood off of my head. Now I’m a fairly good-looking stallion. Not model good, but good. I’m a medium grey earth pony, fit and healthy. I’ve got a black mane that just naturally grows like Doctor Whoof’s does, so it’s kind of stylish but I don’t have to do much other than wash it.
“Hello Mr. Target. Here for your 9 AM quarter annual checkup?” The receptionist asked me. She spoke in a friendly yet impersonal tone, the kind you’d expect from a receptionist.
“Yeah,” I responded. I looked up at the clock instead of my watch for some reason, and I was right on time.
“You’re right on time,” She commented, creepily echoing my thought. “Go right in.”
I did as she said, and walked through the hallway. There were pictures of all kinds of classic cartoons hung on the walls. I guess that’s not that weird considering it’s for foals as well as adults, but still worth noting.
“Hi Mark,” one of the dentists said cheerily. She was a cute looking mare, I’d have to remember to ask her out sometime. I think she had a crush on me. “We’re doing your dental X-ray first. Right this way!”
I followed her, some part of me entertaining the idea that she was taking me to some back room where we could get it on. I think every young stallion has that going on in his head when there’s a cute gal involved.
I wasn’t too disappointed when she led me to the regular old X-ray imaging room.
“Just have a seat and hold still, I’ll get you a lead vest.” She rummaged through a cabinet looking for one.
Meanwhile I was thinking about how stupid it was that I “needed” a vest anyway. Dental X-rays aren’t very radioactive, so I always figured it was more of a “prevent litigation in case a patient gets cancer or is sterile” move to cover their flanks.
“Um, I can’t find a lead vest for you, sorry. Here, I’ve got a waiver for just this kind of scenario. Sign here. And you should put any electronic devices in that basket over there.”
I signed on the dotted line she indicated, I put my stuff in the little basket, she put a little film holder thingy in my mouth to catch the X-rays, and I sat in the imaging chair and leaned back for the imaging process. She aligned the tube to face towards me, walked a few feet away, behind a probably lead-lined wall, and pushed a button.
Either she fucked up real bad, or the machine was fucked up worse, because I could see a visible green blast come out of the tube and hit me, all of me. It was almost like an explosion.
“Ohmygoshareyouokay!?” The dentist blurted out.
“Yeah, I’m fine. A little tingly though,” I responded.
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No, I’ll make it to the hospital. Wouldn’t want to cost you a dime if it was just nothing.” I smiled weakly, collected my phone and left the building.
I didn’t call an ambulance, actually. I called a taxi. If I started feeling like shit in the next morning, I’d go to a hospital. Otherwise, I wasn’t going to risk some expensive medical tests. My health insurance had a ridiculous deductible and I was short on cash.
I got back to my apartment, ignored the graffiti on the inside and outside, ignored the stink of vomit from the drunks on the bottom floor, and got in the elevator, which reeked of piss. Probably the landmare’s Chihuahua. I hate those little rat-dogs.
I opened my room, locked the door, and collapsed on my bed. Before I went back to sleep though, I called in sick. I always had a bunch of sick days at my disposal because I never wasted them on stupid shit. Except my birthday and launch days for certain games of course.
Anyway, I passed out on my bed after calling in sick. I woke up thirteen hours later when my phone rang. I picked it up, answering “Yo, Marked Target.”
“Mark, your father was just killed. Some criminals went through him at a business meeting and stole several million bits worth of equipment and liquid assets.”
There was nothing I could say. I was speechless.
Gilda Grimwing
Some ponies think I got my shit together after what happened in Ponyville almost two years ago. I didn’t. My shit was never together in the first place. But what’s important is that I made it look like I had it together.
My day job is kinda fun; I’m a freelance photographer. I take pictures for big names in news that are too pussy to send their own ponies to get a scoop. I’ve also made some good cash from blackmailers who needed dirt. You’d think a griffon would be too conspicuous outside of griffon territory to get juicy shots, but in a city of over twenty-two million, it’s easy to blend in. Play everything cool and you look like just another one of the dozens of minorities in the city that never sleeps.
But my night job is way cooler. I may have a legit job that pays well for opportunists like me, but the best way to make money in this city is a little less socially acceptable.
I was working a job with some crazy broad calling herself “The Black Death”. She kinda reminded me of somepony annoying from Ponyville actually. I asked her about it, and she said she was her sister. She was pretty forthcoming about her past actually, probably because she left it behind.
Apparently she was rendered sterile by a bioweapon she was working on for COW Chemical or some shit, and she sued and got a few million bits. She said that the weapon was based on Changeling DNA, and that she got some limited shapeshifting powers from it and enhanced physical prowess. She also said that it “opened her eyes” to the “oppressive similarities between our culture and theirs”, and she aimed to spread some “noble” anarchic ideals with her actions and distance Equestria from the Changeling swarms. That’s why I called her “crazy” earlier.
I wouldn’t have believed the shit she said she could do if my contacts hadn’t attested for it themselves. Not run-of-the-mill street rats spreading rumors, these were coming from contacts who’d worked with me countless times, and I knew I could trust. And working with her cemented it in my mind that this was one powerful bitch.
She infiltrated the building easily and placed a remote-controlled sonic emitter in the boardroom, which was unfortunately the easiest way to the vault. In that vault was some things we both wanted, and some things the client wanted. Blackie (as I called her) wanted some chaos, I wanted a hi-tech muscle suit for future jobs and some cash, and the client wanted a chemical formula and sample contained in the vault.
At precisely 9:30 PM, Blackie triggered the emitter. The bulletproof glass that protected the one percent inside cracked like Rainbow Dash trying to ask out a hot date.
No, we weren’t friends in that way , before you jump to any conclusions. I don’t roll that way. Pretty sure she didn’t either. She always fawned over posters of whatever male Wonderbolt was supposed to be the best thing since sliced bread, so I think she was straight. Soarin, that was his name. I made fun of her crush so much back in the day.
Anyway, I shot out the windows with a pair of 92FS and dived in wearing a time-tested combination of a turtleneck, combat harness and balaclava. Some dumbflank old stallion with a military manecut and grey coat leapt up in the chaos and shouted for me to get out of his office before he threw me out. I didn’t like being threatened, so I put one between his eyes. The rest of them ran like fat cubs from gym class.
Blackie, who had shed her disguise, bucked down the door and mowed the fucks down with an FMG-9. She chuckled as she stepped over their corpses and reloaded. That freaked me right the fuck out. I might enjoy killing a little bit, but she seemed to revel in it. Still, I kept a straight face and kept on with the job.
We blasted into the vault with a little help from some plastique I brought, and waited for the dust to clear. That’d take about twenty seconds we might not have, so I cleared it with my wings in about four.
I heard hooves coming up the stairs - bird hearing is pretty sharp - and gestured for Blackie to watch out. She just pushed me into the vault and shapeshifted into a wounded businessmare. When the guards came in, she gave them some big eyes, and when they softened she threw a grenade she’d cooked at them. Needless to say, they got turned into mulch.
We ransacked the vault, grabbed what we wanted, and I flew us outta there. We weren’t followed as luck had it, and I got us to the drop off point. We flew for around twelve minutes until we reached a relatively seedy part of town. A van was waiting for us as expected, and I handed over the chem vial and formula.
I didn’t see the mare who grabbed it, and I barely caught that she was a mare. Before the van drove away, she sprayed me with some weird blue gas. My entire body felt like it was burning and tingling with electricity at the same time, Blackie left me for dead and the five-oh was on my tail; I had to get the fuck outta there. My luck wasn’t out yet though, ‘cause there was a fire escape fifteen feet above me.
I leapt for it, grabbing the ladder and clambering onto the stairs. I scrambled up them ‘til I reached the roof, put my stuff in a ‘pack, and flew to my place. Griffons have a remarkable ability to ignore pain, and our warrior mentality enhances that further. Still, it took everything I had to get to my house in Princesses without crashing.
I made it home, got inside quietly, hid the stuff in my stash and administered some morphine. Hey! I’m not a junkie alright!? I just keep medical supplies at claw in case I’m injured. Anyway, I fucked up in the application and got the needle stuck in my right leg. When I tried to pull it out, I messed up just as bad and tore the skin off when I ripped it out instead.
The weird thing was, it didn’t hurt. Okay, actually the lack of pain wasn’t the weird thing. The weird thing was that it healed in seconds. Like, before my damn eyes. I pinched myself to make sure I was still conscious, making a small cut in my arm. Like before, it healed no problem. And I didn’t feel anything, either.
I tested it again, this time inflicting a more dangerous slash on my thigh, an inch deep but avoiding the arteries. Almost no pain, and it healed up in seconds. Excited, I grabbed a metal pan and hit myself on the knee with it. I heard bones snap out of place with moderate pain, felt some uncomfortable motion inside my leg, and then in a matter of seconds I was right as rain.
Suddenly bored with my newfound abilities, I popped in a superhero movie to celebrate. Batstallion and Robin, just for the laughs. I plopped down on my couch and stretched out my claws, when a bolt of electricity inexplicably shot from them.
Over the next few hours I practiced my new abilities in my backyard, mostly creating and manipulating electricity, first without, and later with my new maroon muscle suit. It was amorphous when not worn, but when I touched it, it covered my entire body except my head and neck.
All I needed to complete the ensemble was a mask. And I had just the thing in my stash; a little black eyemask like Robin wore in, well, everything.
I just needed a name now. I walked back inside and looked at my video game collection. No, it’s just a hobby, don’t ask for my gamertag, sheesh. I looked to violent female characters particularly. Then I came up with my name.
“Talonetta,” I chuckled. It was perfect.
The Great And Powerful Trixie
The Great and Powerful Trixie is sure you’ve heard of her at least once, she is the greatest showmare in all of Equestria after all. But New Yoke City’s demand for magicians like moi has declined recently, inversely proportionate to the city’s rising crime rate.
Trixie is reluctant to admit it, but she craves the spotlight and money more than anything else. There was only one way to do that in a city of villains: become a hero.
If you’ve been to Ponyville recently, you’ve likely seen Trixie but not known it. She was kicked out shortly after the Ursa Minor was brought to town by a pair of foalish foals. But since Trixie’s cart was destroyed too, she used her magnificent illusory spells to disguise herself until she could afford to leave the backwater town for her home in New Yoke City. That took around a year and a half.
When she returned to NYC, she found it over-run with criminals. Not just normal ones, but super-villains on their rise to the top. Somepony had to stop them, and who better than The Great and Powerful Trixie? The problem was coming up with an alter-ego, until Trixie remembered one that had briefly been in her town before disappearing forever.
Trixie has a photographic memory, and she re-created the costume used by the Mysterious Mare Do Well. Usurping such a mantle was exhilarating to Trixie, as was catching her first criminal; a petty thief who had stolen an old mare’s purse.
Of course, superhero work wasn’t easy. Some other heroes had appeared to fight crime in New Yoke, such as the mint-green Handy-Mare and a few others Trixie can't be bothered to remember. But Trixie couldn’t let them take all the credit, so she fought these common vigilantes like any good hero should!
Soon Trixie will bask in the glow of the public’s attention! Soon foals will ask the Mysterious Mare Do Well for her autograph! Soon she will turn them away because she might accidentally sign her real name instead of her hero name! Soon she will have her own comic book series, then two, then five! Then movies! And the royalties will make her a rich mare!
Because who in all of Equestria could possibly be nobler , humbler , or more powerful than The Great and Powerful Trixie?
Author's Note
No, despite the heavy use of human technology, this is NOT an anthro story. I just figured that ponies are anthropomorphic enough already that they can use this kind of tech.
Marked Target
The next few days were of little consequence. I won’t bore you with the grieving I did. It was intense sadness, but I wasn’t tempted to kill myself or anything.
I just sat through the funeral silently and somberly. I wasn’t asked to give a eulogy, and I’m glad I wasn’t. Some of my dad’s friends gave some, and the kind words they had to say about him were a small comfort. Still good to hear though. It was raining, the same as it had been for over a week now. The weatherponies really needed to get their shit together.
I walked to pick up my backpack and changed. I had a black tie on for the funeral, and after taking it off, I stuffed it in one of the little compartments. I got my olive drab sweater out, the same one I’d worn the day he’d died, put it on, and put up the hood. The rain was colder that I remembered it was before my dad died. I felt just a little bit weaker in that cold.
As I was leaving the cemetery where the funeral was held, I was swarmed by paparazzi. Flashing lights, unintelligible voices, a swarm of reporters asking for comment. I kept walking down the sidewalk and they kept following.
“Mr. Target, what has your father left you in his will?”
“No comment,” I muttered. My response was lost among the din of the media vultures swarming me. I didn’t know actually, the will hadn’t been presented to me yet.
“Mr. Target, what do you think of the recent crime wave that culminated in your father’s death?”
“No comment.” More firm and audible this time.
“Who’ll be running Target Enterprises now?”
“No comment!” I went from somber to pissed off. I was starting to bare my teeth and grimace.
“Now that your father is dead, what do you have to say about sexual assault allegations made by female employees of Target Enterprises?”
I grabbed the nearest camera and I threw it on the ground. The high-end device literally shattered into thousands of pieces on the ground, the few intact electronics drenched in the freezing rain.
“That’s what I have to say! Those allegations were bullshit lies made up by greedy whores and every one of you knows it! Now get the fuck away from me you shit-sucking vultures! If I see one of you near my apartment I’ll throw you out the Celestia-damned window!!” I roared as load as I possibly could. I was quite obviously seething, and I could literally feel fire in my body, my forehooves especially.
The disrespectful vermin dispersed. All except for one female griffon photographer, who landed near me.
Gilda Grimwing
I could feel Marked Target’s eyes boring into me, genuine hatred all over his face. I felt bad for him honestly. I normally didn’t even try to get shots from these kinds of things; I hate messing with mourners. The only thing was, the payoff for any good shots could’ve been as high as a five Gs.
It didn’t help my conscience that I was the one who killed his dad. Hey! He was maybe a year or two older than me at most, and he just lost his only family. I know I shouldn’t feel bad for him, but I do. I feel bad the day after I kill fairly often even if I enjoy it at the moment, but killing a well-liked philanthropist really makes you feel worse than all the shit in a sewer.
“Didn’t you get the memo?” He asked bitterly. “Buzz off.”
I showed him my camera, and popped out the memory card. I saw him stare at it, bemused. I tossed it into the nearest drainage grate and smiled weakly. He smiled back and resumed walking. I followed, ostensibly happening to head the same way, my head tilted slightly downwards in shame.
He looked back and frowned again. “What rag do you work for that has you so set on getting something out of me?”
“None, I’m a freelancer. I wouldn’t have even shown if the offers weren’t so high; I normally avoid funerals like the Cutie Pox. And I ain’t after anything now. Now I just wanna make it up to you. Starbits a few blocks from here; I’ll buy. Promise I won’t ask anything that'll get into a story.”
Marked Target looked at me again, this time with a slight grin on his face. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, we were out of the cold rain and enjoying some coffee and pastries. He took his hood off when we got inside to reveal a black manecut. Not bad looking for a pony.
He took his coffee black, I took mine with sugar and cream.
“You never told me your name,” He said.
“Gilda. Gilda Grimwing. Just call me Gilda.”
“Marked Target, but I guess if you were trying to get a shot of me earlier you knew that.”
“Can I call you ‘Mark’, or do just your friends call you that?”
“Sure, anypony who throws away a 64-gig SD card just to make somepony feel better is okay in my book.”
“Whoa, how’d you know the mem size?” I was a bit surprised that he knew the size, actually.
He laughed. “I always had good eyes; 20/5 vision. Coulda been a pilot.”
He laughed again. We chatted for several more hours. Turned out we had a lot in common. Both gamers, similar tastes in movies and TV, both of us had mixed feelings on art. Some bigger differences in our musical tastes, but we both enjoyed classic rock, even if that was our sole similarity there. He was a really nice stallion, laid-back and level-headed too, which made me feel even worse to have killed his dad during that job a few days before.
It was getting late when we decided to leave.
“Hey, I had fun,” He began. “Wanna do this again sometime?”
“Sure.” We exchanged numbers and emails. Then we both nervously admitted neither of us had been asked out on a date - ever - before we left. He took a cab, I flew home. The rain had let up for the first time in days.
And then a pigeon shat on me.
Marked Target
I got in a cab and headed home after saying goodbye to Gilda. The cab smelled like vomit, the driver was ugly even for a diamond dog, and his rates were a bit high. My dad, the only family I knew, was dead; murdered by an unknown assailant during a violent heist. I was working a dead-end job as a janitor.
But despite it all, I felt good. I remember that when ponies would tell me “Every cloud has a silver lining”, I used to respond “But hundreds are killed by lightning each year trying to find it”. But now it looked like I’d stumbled onto a silver lining and gotten out alive. I rolled up my sleeves and put my hooves behind my head.
My positivity didn’t last long. About halfway to my apartment, I noticed in the rear-view mirror that a van had been following us, and when I looked closer, bullets started to fly from it.
I ducked, and the cabbie took several bullets probably MAC-10s judging by the rate of fire. With the driver dead, the cab veered off-course and crashed into a building.
The first weird thing I noticed was that I wasn’t even dazed. No concussion, no whiplash, no pain. My gain.
I jumped out of the car and landed on all four of my hooves, ran for cover into an alleyway, and heard my attackers get out and come for me.
I didn’t know what their game was. Were they trying to assassinate me? Wipe out the family line? Not likely, the only decent motivation was that some power-hungry exec at Target Enterprises decided to usurp power for himself, and I know that A) my dad prized loyalty as much as competence and B) nopony working there would go for anything but an accidental death if they wanted me dead.
In retrospect, maybe they were aiming for a tire to cause an accident, but they just sucked.
That left two possibilities. The first was that they knew who I was and thought I had a lot of dough on me and some credit cards they could use to access supposedly loaded bank accounts. The second was that they were just some fellas out to kill for thrills. If it was the first they’d be disappointed at the truth. If it was the second, they wouldn’t get the chance. Either way, they were gonna be disappointed.
I grabbed a trash can lid as I heard hoofsteps near. I’d fought off individual muggers before with just such an improvised weapon. The first guy to come around was met with a crushing blow to the head. I noticed there was a distinct imprint of the attacker’s skull on it, which was odd. I’d hit harder before with a metal lid, and nothing like that happened.
The next pony I threw the lid at, and it flew with astounding speed before connecting with his chest. Like before, I had no idea how I’d done it. After that five ponies swarmed me. I clocked the first and dodged the punches of two others easily. I delivered a series of body blows to the next one and heard his bones crunch before he fell to the floor.
That left three. Before I could act, I saw them back up and ready their weapons. I knew that was it; they were using .45 caliber submachineguns and they were too far for me to counter, there was no way I could possibly survive.
I guess I impossibly survived. I heard them all fire their weapons, the combined report sounding like a minigun. Then the firing stopped, and the swearing started. I was still alive somehow. By the grace of Celestia, I’d just survived a barrage of almost a hundred bullets at point blank when just two should’ve killed me.
I felt that same fire in my body that I did earlier that day, and I realized my hooves literally caught fire. But there was no pain, just warmth. I threw a punch at one of my reloading assailants, hitting him square in the chest and scorching the point of impact. The next two went flying when my flaming hooves shot a fireball at each of them as I jabbed in their direction but came up short.
Just like that, it was over. I’d just fought off seven armed ponies by myself, with nothing but my hooves and a trash can lid. I didn’t know what happened. I was scared shitless at what I’d done. So I ran.
I ran to my apartment. I ran faster than I could remember ever running in my life. Fast enough that I outran motorcycles that I could tell by the engine sound were going at least forty. I ran those ten blocks and I wasn’t even remotely tired when I was done. Not tired when I got to my room, either.
I locked the door, turned on the news, and lay on my bed listening.
A reporter covered the crash and subsequent fight I’d been in. Nopony saw me clearly, nor could they come up with an accurate or consistent description of my Cutie Mark, but they saw what I did. They saw me take those bullets. They saw what looked like a mugging turn into a brawl into a firefight and into a one-sided massacre.
That’s right. I said “massacre”. Those ponies I fought, all seven of them died of their wounds. Burns, fractures, blunt force trauma. All of it me.
My phone rang. It was Gilda, and I answered.
“H-hey,” I said nervously.
“Mark, you watchin’ the local news? This shit’s unbelievable!” Gilda sounded genuinely astounded.
“Yeah. I saw it myself and I can’t believe it!”
“You saw it? I thought you were in a cab.”
“I, uh, got out. Fare was too expensive, so I walked the rest of the way. Saw that shit go down myself. Don’t think I’d be any better than the people being interviewed at describing the pony, though.” That last part I said with a laugh. I’m a good liar, especially under pressure.
“Looks like that stallion got himself a cool set of superpowers and decided to test ‘em out.”
“Whoa, I didn’t think of it like that!”
“Wanna talk about it over drinks on Thursday at Ganon’s? Laaadies niiight!” She sang.
I was briefly consumed with an intense curiosity as to what Ganon was up to. And what was for dinner. And dudes on magic carpets delivering oddly convenient answers to my questions.
“Definitely. Figure out the specifics later?”
“Yeah, see ya.”
“Bye.”
I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My backpack and hoodie were intact. Like whatever had protected me had protected around my body. Like an impenetrable aura.
I tried to remember what superhero had that same invulnerability aura thingie. I used to read a lot of comics when I was a foal, so I should’ve been able to recall immediately. It took me about a minute to remember. Superstallion. I remembered it didn’t protect his cape though, so I guess my backpack was just out of the line of fire.
I guess since I’d manipulated fire earlier, that was a pun. A shitty one. Dammit, that was one too! I was in the bathroom when I made it! Shit, that last one sounded like I was talking about a piece of- Dammit, I did it again!
I put my stuff on my bed and went to take a hot shower. I think really well in the shower, so I often take one when I need to clear my mind.
Or clop. Hey, don’t judge me! It takes like, no effort to clean it up afterwards when you do it in the shower!
Anyways, I thought about my day. I got my first girlfriend at age twenty-three, and discovered I had superpowers. When I looked back on it, I figured out them all, and my weakness, too. I had super-strength, super-speed, invulnerability, and the ability to create and control fire. Judging from my increased aversion to cold, cold was probably my weakness. Probably got those powers from that X-ray mishap.
And dad said reading all those comic books would never pay off!
Now I just needed a cool costume. And a cool name. And cool gadgets. And a cool ride, maybe a bunch of them. Now I was looking forward to my dad’s will.
I got out of the shower, hopped in bed, pulled over my blanket, and tried to sleep. And failed. I was up till 6AM, and then I finally fell asleep for three hours before my phone woke me up. Oh phone, what would I do without you? Probably get a new phone; you are a replaceable inanimate object and you will deal with it! Stop ringing dammit, daddy needs his sleep!
Mind you, it wasn’t an alarm. I had the entire week off of work since my dad died, which was probably the most decent thing those dicks in administration ever did for me. It was a call from Target Enterprises.
I rolled out of bed, fell onto the ground, got back up, and answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Target? We’ve found your father’s last will and testament.” A female voice. “Please be at the building within three hours.”
Marked Target
“Hello, Mr. Target? We’ve found your father’s last will and testament.” A female voice. “Please be at the building within three hours.”
“Ugh, got it.” I hung up and yawned. Another shower, focused solely on hygiene. Gotta stay fresh. Got out my tie. Called a cab. Endured bad polka and the fatflank cabbie bitching about the new soft drink size restriction Mayor Bridleburg was imposing. Hit my head repeatedly in a vain attempt to knock myself out, only to remember I was mostly invulnerable.
One agonizing and expensive ride later, I was at the Target Industries building. I walked in like I owned the place, because I probably did. I hoped. I was careful not to piss anypony off or seem too confident, even though I was (hopefully) the most loaded fucking superhero ever.
I wore a straight face as I walked up to the receptionist. “I’m here for the reading of my father’s last will and testament.”
“Sixty-ninth floor, sir.”
Immaturity levels rising. Must maintain professional composure.
I snickered despite my best efforts.
Damn it, dad! Even in death you torment me, you bastard!
I entered the elevator, which was refreshingly hygienic compared to the one in my apartment, and empty except for me. I punched in the sixty-ninth floor. The whole thing was roomy and clean, and did I mention it didn’t smell like hobo piss?
The elevator lurched upwards at an agonizingly slow pace.
“WHO-O-OOOOOOOAH ” The speakers begam to sing in an autotuned-as-fuck female voice. Sometimes I really hate you dad.
“I swear to Celestia, I will murder the shitter who put this music in this elevator if I ever find out who it was.”
Princess Celestia
Marked Target of New Yoke City swears to Celestia he will murder the shitter who installed a damn troll program in the elevator he occupies if he ever finds out who it was.
I groaned. Ponies were getting way to loose with their oaths these days. I really needed to find a way to hold them to it.
“What is it, Tia?” Luna asked.
“Just another one, Lulu. Death threat.” I turned the page of the Canterlot Post. “I would do something about it, but it’s in NYC, so the stallion will probably do it even if I tip the cops off.”
“What are ya gonna do?” Luna said, resigned.
“Burn Equestria to ash,” I deadpanned.
“Good one!” She laughed.
I sighed.
Marked Target
One Celestia-awful song later, I arrived at the sixty-ninth floor. The elevator opened to reveal a long hallway with only a single door at the end. No doubt about it, dad meant for this level to be used to troll others. I walked down the hallway and opened the door to find a single bespectacled, severe-looking unicorn sitting behind a desk.
“You’re here. I can start now,” He said.
I guess I was the only one attending.
The lawyer cleared his throat. “‘I, Hard Target, being of sound mind and body,’” He began.
That's a laugh.
“Hereby bequeath the entirety of my estate to my only son, ‘Marky-Mark’ Wahlberg.”
“Who!?”
“‘Just yanking your chain son. It actually goes to you. My company, money, and… A boot to the head .’”
A brown leather boot flew out of the wall and struck me in the head. I feigned pain from the assault even though I didn't feel anything.
“It goes on to list a variety of contingencies, only one of which applies.”
Once again, he cleared his throat. “‘If I am killed by criminals, I leave it to you to avenge my death and become a superhero. Now, this can’t technically be enforced, but your long-lost younger half-sister, my illegitimate daughter, Pinkie Pie, whose mother was smokin' hot once upon a time, gave me a method of enforcing this. Included is a diagram on the Pinkie Promise. This is the condition of usurping my wealth. Upon completing this step, all assets of Target Enterprises will be under your control, and my money will be directly transferred to your bank account.’”
I glanced at it and followed it to the letter. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” I grumbled.
I swear I heard the word “Foorreeeveeeerrr… ” after I said it, which scared me. It didn’t sound like it came from the room either.
“‘And lastly, to the executor of my will, I leave…’ Oh dear Celestia…”
A boot flew from the wall and struck the lawyer, knocking him out cold. Wuss. I could’ve taken that even if I weren’t invulnerable.
I left the room and called down to the lobby to arrange to have my things moved from my apartment to the penthouse floor of the TI building. I also inquired as to the location of the R&D department, which was located in the basement.
After that, I got in the elevator and pushed the button to go to the basement level. While there wasn’t any annoying music playing on the way down, it still took an agonizing amount of time to reach my destination.
When I reached the basement, a bald, white pegasus was waiting for me. He immediately held out his hoof, which I bumped with my own.
“Cue Balls sir, pleasure to meet you,” He said in a Bittish accent. “I assume you’re here for your superhero equipment? I ask because you’ve obviously been granted clearance to access this level, meaning several things. One, you have finally inherited your father’s business; two, because of the circumstances of his death you are obligated by Pinkie Promise to become a superhero, which I know because we all have a clause in our contracts informing us of this contingency. Don’t worry, it’s also in our contracts to not divulge any secrets; technological or otherwise. All potential security leaks are planned for ahead of time, so no disgruntled employees will divulge anything.”
I was flabbergasted by his comfort with the whole superheroes and secrets thing. Maybe he’d had prior experience doling out gadgets for other ponies with secret identities.
“So, um, Mr. Balls,” I snickered. Sometimes I forget how vulnerable I am to bodily humor. Maybe that’s another weakness of mine.
“Perhaps you should just call me ‘Cue’.”
“Okay Cue,” I began without a hint of laughter. “Just an FYI, I-”
“Have superpowers, we know. This basement is the only place that can detect and identify powers and weaknesses. Another piece of your father’s contingency plan. Pyrokinesis, enhanced strength and speed, extreme durability and aversion to cold?”
My jaw dropped to the floor, literally. I know, that doesn’t seem physically possible.
“Perhaps I should add ‘elastic jaw’ to that list,” Cue said without breaking verbal stride.
“Okay, do you have some machine that automatically teaches me how to make the most effective use of my powers?” I asked him sarcastically after picking up my jaw.
“Grow up- Um, I mean, no. That’s what magic is for. Oi, Beardface!”
A bearded unicorn a few dozen yards away turned to face me and Cue, obviously irritated. “It’s Beardfacé , dammit!”
“Mr. Target needs that ‘teach-you-how-to-use-your-powers-because-you’re-too-bloody-lazy-to-practice’ spell! Mr. Target, walk over to the nice stallion and hold still.” The part addressed to me was said in a kind tone that contrasted the harsh yelling he began with.
I walked over to Beardy, who grumbled about changing his name or something, and cast a spell with a yellow aura that surrounded my whole body and lifted me several yard above the floor.
I actually caught fire about halfway through the spell “Spontaneous eruption of applicable elemental powers is expected,” McFacialhair muttered.
After about sixteen minutes (there was a large digital clock on the wall), I dropped to the ground. As weird as it sounds, I suddenly knew how to manipulate my powers on a basic level. Of course, it was mostly theory, so I’d have to put effort into actually using them efficiently.
Cue escorted me to a room full of dummies and watched from the other side of a thick glass wall, and I went to town on dummies. Punches, kicks, headbutts; my martial prowess had been significantly enhanced by my powers.
The next thing to come was a bipedal robot. I stood on my hind legs - which is something they teach you to do in the military in order to use firearms - and began pelting it with fireballs. In no time, the machine was reduced to a slag heap.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that being a superhero was gonna be awesome.
“Might I interest you in designing your costume?” Cue asked over the intercom.
I spent the next few hours going over the intricacies of my costume and gear. I decided to exclude a cape, since it’d serve no purpose and was too showy for me anyway.
For my suit, I had a durable deep blue fireproof bodysuit covered by thin but tough navy blue composite plates. The purpose of the plates was to house electronic systems, such as heaters to help reduce my vulnerability to cold somewhat, a radio to monitor police chatter, and a plethora of other systems.
I requested that there be a hatch in the nether regions so I could excrete solid and liquid waste. I figured it’d blow if there were a lot of crimes one night and I had to fight the whole night through while marinating in my own juices. I also requested that my jaw could move unhindered.
Cue promised to have it ready within a few days.
The Great and Powerful Trixie
Trixie followed the hooligans by rooftop, using the cape she enchanted to fly between buildings. She watched as the bumbling policeponies finally disabled her prey, and chased it into a large alley. They fought like cornered animals, injuring several officers of the law before Trixie decided her entrance would make a suitable impact.
“No need to fear, the Mysterious Mare Do Well is here!” The Great and Powerful Trixie announced.
Trixie descended from the rooftop, and cast a powerful ward that blocked the thieves’ bullets. She followed with a flurry of magical blasts to incapacitate them and bound them together using a spell.
“Hooves up!” Trixie heard, presumably from ungrateful cops. She turned to see she was right, as always .
“What crime do you plan on taking the Mare Do Well in for, Commissioner?”
“Vigilantes aren’t welcome in this city.”
Trixie brought up another shield as she tried to escape, only to be kicked in the face by what must have been the most despicable evildoer of all time!
Gilda Grimwing
So I’m scoping a target for my first heist as Talonetta when some random ponies hit it. That pissed me off a bit, but they weren’t half-bad at what they did, so I decided to catch a few shots with my camera, figuring I could sell ‘em maybe. They got out with some gems, the cops came after them, and some purple-caped hero with a dumb hat followed them by rooftop.
I followed too. I saw them get crash and get cornered when I decided I should intervene and take the jewels myself. I hid in an alley, pulled my eyemask from my black backpack, and put on my dark red muscle suit. It covered all of me, including my wings, but not my head and neck. I took a pair of P14-45s out and flew above the fight.
It looked like that hero had finished off the thugs, and the cops were giving her a hard time. I jumped down and stomped on her head, only to realize that she was projecting a ward to defend against bullets. The police, who had just gotten backup, opened fire on me.
I went for a shootdodge and fired at my attackers, scoring several hits with the .45s and killing several cops. They hit me too, but that didn’t bother me much. After emptying the magazines, I reloaded behind cover and holstered the pistols.
This time, I flew up and charged my sheathed talons with electricity before raining lightning on them. Their gun’s metallic pieces relayed the charge into their hooves, causing them to drop their weapons and paralyzing some of them. I threw a thunderball at one of them, which sent him flying backwards into the wall.
The rest of them fled, dragging their buddies away. I let them escape. After all, afraid was even better than dead, because it was more easily spread.
“Tell ‘em Talonetta sent you running!” I yelled. I might as well get my name out there before they give me some shitty nickname.
I grabbed the loot and walked up to the unconscious hero. With my free claw, I drew my pistol and whipped the sleeping mare awake. “Wake up, sleeping ugly! Seriously, how bad do you look that you gotta wear that mask? Or do you just have bad teeth?”
“Nopony talks to Tri- uh, the Mysterious Mare Do Well that way!” She shot a bolt of magic at me, which I cleanly dodged.
“I really have to thank you for distracting those pigs for me. I’ll see you around, maybe next time I’ll let you hit me with your lame magic.”
I flew off and headed for one of the safe changing areas in the city I’d memorized, where I took off the suit and mask. The muscle suit had repaired itself, which was good because I didn’t want to be running around with a shredded suit. I headed back to my place and stashed the guns, loot and my costume. There was a bullet-hole in my backpack, but it was a small one, probably from one of the 9mms the cops pack here. I ignored it and just put the backpack with the rest of my regular stuff.
Marked Target
So several days came and went that week. I’ll spare you the boring shit that filled most of it, and give you the highlights.
On Tuesday, I quit my job as a janitor. I took a dump in each and every urinal, knowing that they’d have to hire a new janitor just to get those out, and jacked the intercom with the help of one of the smarter students, who was a nice colt actually, so I could berate the staff.
On Thursday I had a date with Gilda. I called a cab, we went to Ganon’s and had a few.
The family business came up in our conversation, and I told her the legal stuff was still a bit hazy, which was true, if misleading. The thing is I liked her, and I didn’t want it to be about the money I’d come into. All in all, we had a good time. We said goodbye and each took our own cabs home.
I took a nap on my bed in the penthouse level of the Target Enterprises building. I have to say, it was really nice to not be in that shitty apartment anymore. I had all the things that had made my last place home, like my Xbuck 360 and memorabilia, and all the roominess and luxury of a penthouse.
At 10 PM the receptionist called me and told me that Cue wanted to see me down in R&D. I rolled out of my bed and fell onto the floor, getting on my feet and heading to the elevator. The ride was quick and Cue was there to greet me when I got to the basement.
He led me to a room filled with, well, gadgets and cars and stuff. One of them looked like an F-117 on wheels. I stared at it like a really deep painting, because I considered the design a work of art. Cue must’ve caught me staring, because he ambled over to me and tapped my shoulder.
“It’s not done,” He deadpanned.
“Oh. Okay.” Obviously I was disappointed, because that thing looked really cool. “What kind of stuff does it have?”
“Oh you know, ejector seats, tire shredders, machineguns, oil slick, smokescreen, tacks, advanced ELINT suite, the usual stuff.”
I contorted my face into a confused expression. “Since when is all that standard?”
He shrugged. “Since the last place I worked.”
“Okay…”
He led me to some room, and I saw my finished costume for the first time. It was awesome-looking. Just like I’d imagined it, but even better. The undersuit was navy blue, and the lightweight composite plates that dominated the suit and mask were slightly lighter; deep blue to be exact. That was good, no flashy neon blue or bright blues.
The armor bore a single yellow-orange fireball atop a black circle on each flank, where my cutie mark would be. On the chest, the same symbol was found. The rest of the chest section was actually black, giving the impression of a tactical vest despite the lack of pouches. The hooves were the same black as the chest. The eyes were cool, too: polarized golden lenses.
“I added in a fireproof mask to hide your muzzle and keep you warm, and you can pull it up to use it or down if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, cool. Wait, is that a cape?” I specifically remembered asking for no cape. Although the black cape did look pretty sick, especially since it had the fireball emblem on it.
“It retracts automatically, whenever you want it to. I put it in in case you changed your mind. It becomes rigid on command, allowing the user to glide across rooftops. Specifically, it forms an inverted trapezoid, an upside-down pyramid with the tip cut off, and the wider part is towards the front when it activates.”
“Thanks. Any gadgets?”
Cue gave a smug grin and nodded. “Grappling hooks, spray-on explosives with remote detonation, various visor functions, and a utility belt carrying all sorts of fun little gadgets. Trackers, remote cameras and listening devices. A data ripper to extract information from computers without laying a hoof on them; three terabyte storage. A gas mask that when attached to a slot on the chin extends to cover the mouth, creating a complete seal with the suit to protect from the full spectrum of CBRN threats. The same mask also doubles as a rebreather. A few dozen tiny canisters, each containing knockout gas, tear gas, smokescreens, etcetera. There’s more, actually, but I get the feeling you don’t want to hear about them.”
“Yeahhh… Can I have a manual instead?”
He gave me that grin again. “You won’t need one. The lenses on your mask double as a heads-up display, or-”
“HUD, yeah I play video games, I know what that is.”
“Yes, well your HUD is linked to your suit, naturally. If you so much as hover a hoof over a part of your utility belt, the device there will be displayed, along with information regarding that item. Now, I’ve heard you were a crack shot with a pistol.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, so?”
“I’ve got several calibers of tranquilizer darts, and self-suppressing ammunition too. Some of it combines the two.”
“Ah. You’re telling a superhero to carry a pistol?”
“Well, Superstallion took weapons to his final battle with the Cyborg after he’d been rejuvenated from his supposed death, and his powers hadn’t fully returned.”
“Yeah, and it didn’t do him much good; Cyborg just made his own face appear from them by warping the metal somehow. Plus, if my powers are weakened by cold, a gun won’t be much use.”
“Polymer doesn’t have that problem. And the Foalbrique Nationale Five-Seven utilizes polymers extensively; even the steel slide is encased in polymer. As such, I’ve had one custom made for you. It accepts a miniature suppressor I designed for it, has yellow tritium-illuminated night sights, and can fire any 5.7x28mm ammunition, tranq or not. Your utility belt can hold five spare magazines, each carrying thirty rounds. Because those extended magazines are only slightly longer than the normal twenties, they aren’t very cumbersome.”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to break with tradition on this. “Look, maybe I’ll pack heat some other time.”
So we talked some more, and I put on the costume for the first time. It took about five minutes of fumbling to get it on, but I figured it’d probably get easier as time went on. Once I had the whole thing on, I pulled on the mask, leaving only my muzzle unobstructed.
The HUD came on, displayed as a sort of amber color. Suit integrity, motion tracker, visual filters, equipment, the like. The suit only added a little bit of bulk, but it made me look more muscular without being anatomically correct .
“I’ve hooked the suit up with a cloned sim-chip from your cell phone, so you can still receive and make calls. There’s zero possibility of anypony tracking your movements via your pseudo-cellphone, either. There’s also a second line to be used for hero-related duties, in case you ever need to provide somepony a way to contact you; the number comes up on command, like much of the HUD’s information.”
At hour later, at the top of Federal Stall, I watched as cars, buses, and taxis went by. Ponies, griffons, diamond dogs. I was listening to police chatter, my cape billowing in the wind. Yeah, I decided to use the cape, since the ability for it to become a rigid pair of wings would be extremely useful. Over my muzzle, I wore the other mask. Not the gas mask, the fireproof navy blue fabric one. Wow, I'm really not conveying the dramatic thing very well.
“All units, we have an armed robbery on Ponnie and Clydesdale. Suspect is fleeing, believed to be headed for the docks.”
Showtime.
The Great and Powerful Trixie
After she heard about the robbery, Trixie began to bound across rooftops, her skillfully enchanted cape allowing her to glide the extra distance between buildings. Below her, the police raced to apprehend the thieves, each eager for a bonus or a promotion that they foresaw themselves receiving if they succeeded.
It was almost a shame Trixie would beat them there; it had taken weeks, but she had recently set up a teleportation grid. By enchanting certain locations, she can create a sort of node. Then, that node can be used to travel instantaneously to another node of Trixie’s choice. However, only a powerful magic-user like Trixie can activate or even detect these nodes, and they require a great sum of magical energy to be created, which is why it took so long to create the network.
Upon reaching the nearest nerd- uh, node , Trixie activated the portal and leapt through. It always felt strange going through them, but not in the same way as she felt about that other node- uh, nerd. Why didn’t Twilight Sparkle return Trixie’s letters?
Stop laughing! What do you mean, Twilight is- Of course Trixie doesn’t read tabloids! How was she supposed to know Twilight- Never mind. Trixie is over her anyway, and she had been for a while when all this happened.
Anyway, Trixie emerged from the portal to find that several police, supported by a SWAT team, were already in a firefight with a couple dozen gangsters. A policegriffon’s head sprayed blood, and Trixie traced the shot back to a griffon wielding a sniper rifle. Trixie despised firearms, so loud and crude, messy and smelly. Magic was clearly a superior form of combat anyhow.
It was clearly up to Trixie to save the day.
Lieutenant Stainless Steel
After Falco’s head popped, a lot of the boys started panicking. Granted, they weren’t SWAT like me and my team, but they should’ve held their composure. Panicking under fire is a great strategy if you want to die, but not much else.
“Everypony, heads down! Get to cover and hold position!” I roared. The guys trust me, and it showed then. They did what I told them, and I galloped to cover behind the SWAT van. "Gross, not that position!"
It was heavy shit raining down on us, and we were all scared. Back in the Sabers, they taught you it was okay to be afraid, in fact it was good; nature’s own warning system. But the key was to not let it dominate you. I was under control, and most of the guys under my command were good too, but the blue-shirts were on the verge of panic. I needed a miracle when a gravelly voice that sounded like Stable Snake came through my earpiece.
“There’s a sniper on the crane tower, south side of the boom. He’s using a 7.62, probably armor-piercing rounds judging by the report. He won’t be able to hit your people if they move to the abandoned hospital to your west. ”
“Are you crazy!? We were just taking fire from there a minute ago!” I thought I might’ve been crazy at the time, hearing some video game character’s voice over the radio.
“I already took care of them. You’ll find all five of them at the bottom of the stairwell, tied up with their guns a few yards away. Get your wounded inside, scavenge some ammo. ”
I didn’t have a choice. It was either trust him and take a chance, or we’d all die.
“Everypony into the hospital, double time!" They started moving, slowly. "No, that means double your speed, not your travel time!”
Fear made them obedient, thankfully; they took whatever chance they had, and they had enough in me to follow my orders. I led the charge into the hospital, bucking the doors in myself and turning on the flashlight on my carbine. I moved inside and swept the light around until I found the targets. All five of them, just like the stallion said.
“Five scumbags incapped!” I shouted out. “Get everypony in here!”
Another scumbag fell down from a few floors up, landing on the others. “Make that six. No more in here, the sniper’s mine. ” I looked up and saw that the railing had been broken, probably where this guy’d fallen from. The drop-in had slight scorchmarks on his chest, too. I pulled out a zip-tie and secured him.
The wounded and regulars started piling in first while my team brought up the rear. I signaled Sergeant Cutlass to follow me and we raced up the stairs, heading to the roof.
I was gonna catch this guy, whoever he was. I could hear a set of hooves on the stairs above me, so I kept on. When we reached the roof, I saw the rear end of the stallion who must’ve been assisting me. A billowing black cape with a fireball on the back, and a blue mask with golden eyes were all I saw. He glanced at me and then looked straight ahead before making a huge leap, his cape practically turning into a perfectly trapezoid-shaped wing, and he glided towards the crane.
I fired a burst at him and Cutlass did too, but I don’t think we hit anything.
The Great and Powerful Trixie
Within a minute of the griffon’s head erupting in a geyser of blood, the police rushed into the nearby building. While Trixie made her way to the crane, she kept an eye on events behind her. It seemed that the six ruffians had been taken care of. A caped figure clad in blue and black rushed to the rooftop behind me and leapt off after a pause, gunfire following him.
As he sprang from the rooftop, his cape formed a sort of wing, like Trixie’s does. Not only that, but he jumped with incredible vigor, allowing him to glide in front of her. Trixie does not like being passed.
Marked Target
A caught a glance of two of the cops I’d saved. And they were both pointing assault rifles at me. First-timer bonus, I guess. After that, I leapt with all my might, and my cape transformed into a wing. I held my forelegs out parallel to the “wings” and felt the wind buffet them.
It was surprisingly easy to control, and with the force I’d used to jump forwards I was travelling at a high speed. As I closed on the crane, I noticed a mare gliding on the same path as me.
I remember seeing her picture in the paper; the Mysterious Mare Do Well, a very gifted unicorn mare. But with that stupid-looking hat’s air resistance, it’s no wonder I passed by her.
Landing on the crane, my cape returned to its normal state, and I rushed to the sniper. I’d tagged him on my HUD earlier, and he was outlined in orange. It was a particularly bulky griffon. He heard my hoofsteps and turned to fire a burst. My motion tracker showed the MMDW had landed behind me, but I focused on the bird.
He emptied his entire magazine into me. Every bullet hit, actually, but my powers protected my suit completely. While he reloaded, I formed a fireball around my forehoof and threw it at him with a stylish yell, making him drop his gun. So he drew another one. At least he had the sense to carry a backup.
“Don’t come any closer!” The bird yelled. “This is a Hock 18C; it’s loaded with Spark Industries 9mm ‘Scattershot’ ammunition, making it a mini-shotgun firing at 1100-plus RPM. It’ll blow you the fuck away, so back off asshole!”
I gave a single, derisive laugh. “Okay, so you empty a whole mag from your rifle to no effect, and you think that some measly BBs are gonna kill me?”
“Back away, amateur. The Mysterious Mare Do Well will handle this!”
That big-headed moron tried to push me away. I pushed her back, but not before the thug flipped his shit and opened up. I covered the heroine and took fire until he was empty. After that, I covered the ten yard distance between us in a few heartbeats and bucked him off the side, sending him plummeting to the ground. I heard the distinctive snap of a broken wing when he hit the concrete fifty yards below, and he was moaning at that wonderful frequency that meant he was still alive.
“You’re still not catchin us, pigs! ” Some thug blared over a loudspeaker.
“Dammit, they’re getting away! ”
“I’m not good enough with my pyrokinesis to hit a target that far away…” I said.
“Are you just going to stand there like a fool?” The masked mare inquired.
I cracked my neck. “Nope.” I trotted over to the rifle and picked up the mag that was laying on the floor. I slammed it in and chambered a round. I still knew how to use an EBR.
So I rested the barrel of the gun on the frame of the crane and sighted down my scope. The driver was about to make a right turn. If I fired then, the shot would pop the tire and make him flip the van. So I did exactly that.
I got a clean shot, and the van flipped fantastically, landing upside-down.
“The getaway vehicle flipped. No scumbags in sight. Do me a favor and don’t shoot at me next time, Lieutenant,” I said over the radio to the SWAT officer.
After I put the rifle down, unloaded it and ejected a round by cycling it manually, I turned to see her still standing there staring at me. Or at some graffiti I didn’t see. Fuck, I don’t know, she had lenses over her eyes, maybe she was derp-eyed!
“For the record, Misty, the pyrokinesis, strength, speed, invulnerability and marksmanship are all mine. The only thing the suit gives me is that gliding.”
“That was… Impressive. I never thought I’d see a superhero use a sniper rifle,” She sounded somewhat impressed. Good, I care too much what my peers think of me.
Oh, and a fun fact: one of my biggest pet peeves is improper terminology.
“That wasn’t a sniper rifle, it was a Mk 14 Mod 0 Enhanced Battle Rifle!” I corrected her.
“It's still a sniper rifle. It had a scope, didn’t it?”
“You can put lipstick on a pig,” I retorted as I walked away, preparing to depart. “But that doesn’t make it a classy mare.”
“Because you saved the Mysterious Mare Do Well, she’ll let you take credit for this one . Next time, you'll have to work for it. What’s your name?”
“Alright, mister guardian alicorn. You got a name for me to give my boss? ” The SWAT lieutenant said over the radio.
“Blue Blaze,” I answered them, using the most dramatic enunciation I could.
5. The Best Night Ever; Take 2
Gilda Grimwing
So I was just watching some TV with Mark at my house. We were just having a good time, laughing our asses off. Eating air-popped popcorn drenched in molten butter and sprinkled with salt, and drinking Mounted Dew Throwback. It was pretty awesome.
Right when the vanity card at the end of the credits appeared, a car alarm sounded outside. It wasn’t mine, so I didn’t move. Mark did; he got up and galloped to the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He opened the door. “That’s my car!” He yelled. I didn’t know he got a car, and I didn’t expect it to be a Vanquish either. Some guy was trying to break into it, a stallion I owe a lot of money actually.
So Mark sprinted over and tackled him, then hit him with two right hooks. I approached them during the brief scuffle. That was the first time I saw Mark kick someone’s ass.
“I thought it was Gilda’s, I swear! She hasn’t paid her protection money this week, so I came to collect it!”
Mark pulled a wad of hundreds out of his jacket. “I see you again, and I feed you your fucking heart, got it?”
He nodded wildly, then galloped away. I was just standing there, kinda shocked.
“Where’d that car come from? And the money?”
“Well, a few days ago I unofficially officially became a multi-billionaire. And this car is modified to be theft-proof, so after that scuffle, not a scratch on it. I was gonna tell you when you asked about the car, but you didn’t, so…”
I took it pretty well, actually. I just laughed it off. We went back inside and got back to watching TV together. An hour and a half later, he got ready to leave. I gave him a little peck on the cheek, and he returned a kiss.
“Hey, the Grand Galloping Gala is being hosted in the Target Hall this month, I got two tickets if you’re interested.” He grinned and pulled out two tickets. “And if you need money for a dress or something, I can spare five grand.”
My beak dropped. I nodded. In the glove box of his car, there was a wad of hundreds, which he tossed to me. I caught it in my talons and smiled like an idiot.
“We’ll work out the details later?” I asked.
“You know it.” Mark circled and got in his car. He revved up and zoomed away.
I had a good feeling about this Gala. I know I’m not the most feminine griffon out there, but going to something big like G3 felt like I was moving up. And if I got some new clothes, then I was getting some material gains out of it too.
The Great and Powerful Trixie
Well, Trixie had raised enough money to get a ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala. And then all the tickets sold out. It was a shame really, because there were several ponies there she wanted a word with. It was going to be a full moon though, so crime would be rife that night, and with no other plans, the Mysterious Mare Do Well would be cleaning up the streets. And if something went wrong at the Gala, then that wasn’t her problem; she was fairly certain a few heroes could make it.
Marked Target
Well, the night was here. The Grand Galloping Gala was starting in a few hours. I put on a tux and went to visit Cue, who’d abstained from going to the event.
“Changed your mind yet?” I prodded him.
“No at all,” He chuckled. “You need something?”
“Yeah. You have the shortcut to the Blaze Bunker ready? I’d hate to be stuck in a tux if something goes wrong.”
“Yes. There’s several panic rooms built into Target Hall, and all you have to do is get into one for privacy’s sake and use this gadget here.” He produced a small pager-like device. “Use this, and you’ll be teleported to your bunker. Use it again, and you’ll go straight back, or to the nearest available preset node.”
I tucked it into my pocket. “Is it multi-use? Because I can see this being useful anytime.”
“It works anywhere, anytime, and only for you.”
“Thanks, Cue.” A grin and nod were his response.
I rode the elevator to the underground parking level, where a limo met me. I climbed into the back and told him to go to Gilda’s house. We got there in, well, really fast considering that this is New Yoke City. Of course, the Target Enterprises building was close to Princesses, and to Target Hall, so it wouldn’t be a terrible commute. Plus, we would be in a limo.
Anyway, we arrived at her house, and I walked to the door. I pushed the doorbell and checked my reflection on my watch; my black mane was still in my signature style, my teeth were clean and minty, my coat was clean, and my golden eyes were free of red veins and eye crust.
Yup, still sexy.
The door opened, and Gilda looked stunning. She wore a simple black dress that adhered to her form, and had slits that left her wings unhindered after she slipped them through. She also had a platinum necklace with a ruby inset.
Of course she didn’t have lipstick! Why would a griffon wear lipstick?
“You look amazing,” I fawned.
“You look alright,” She returned.
I led her to the limo, which had enough room for both of us, and a flatscreen TV, and plenty of amenities.
“So,” I explained. “The Princesses will be there, and the Captain of the Guard, and the Elements of Harmony; it’s a big deal. Not just because of everypony there, but because all of this has been modified under my watch. This is the first time in a century the Triple G has been held outside Canterlot, and with a sudden change in management, it’s got everypony a bit on edge. Plus the Princesses brought their own guards and declined Mayor Bloombit’s offer of a trained VIP escort. I mean, Royal Guards don’t know jack-shit about guarding anything outside their cushy posts in Canterlot.”
“You got a PR plan if shit goes sideways?” Gilda inquired.
“Yeah, it’s all on a security SNAFU beyond our control. I mean, every security expert says the Princess’ security plan is saddle-on-head retarded.”
“Yeah. Good thing I’m packing heat. A Nite Hawg, ten rounds of .45 in a super compact frame.”
“Nice.”
Things got quiet for a moment.
“Wait, you said the Elements of Harmony are there, right?” She asked, looking a bit nervous.
“Yeah, why?”
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “A couple years ago, I visited my old BFF, Rainbow Dash. She’s one of the Elements, and I had a falling out with her after I was a real bitch to her friends. My parents were victims of a murder-murder-murder-murder-murder-murder-accidental suicide. That’s why I visited Dash, because I needed a friend, but all the stress and emotion just got to me; I lashed out at them.” She had regret painted all over her.
I scooted closer and hugged her. “I’m here whenever you need me.”
The limousine came to a stop. “We’re here Mr. T,” The driver said.
I was irritated that he got in the way of my feels, but he was right. A black mare opened the door, and I got ready to step out.
“Let’s have ourselves some fun,” I said with a grin.
We stepped out of the limo, and onto the red carpet. Cameras flashing, voices asking question they knew we wouldn’t answer.
I looked up. The “Hall” in “Target Hall” was pretty misleading. It was a thirty-story building, with two opera houses on top of each other, and several fancy floors above it. The Gala was in the so called “Main Hall” in the thirtieth floor.
The lobby was filled with ponies, most of them being from wealthy families. Much of the Canterlot elite had deigned not to attend, too pompous to go to a Gala not in their overrated city. So much of the attendance was more local VIPs, and I’d arranged for more varied entertainment than the norm. DJ P0n3 on one side, the Trottingham Philharmonic on the other. But it was arranged in such a way that neither side’s entertainment would interfere with the other’s, and the rehearsals that’d been held confirmed this.
I could hear the press outside, cheering.
“Sounds like the VIPs are gettin’ here. Where’s the elevator?” Gilda asked.
“Right this way.” We entered it and Gilda pushed the button marked “30”. The box hummed upwards. “So, uh, to continue our earlier conversation… Are you packing heat?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I answered. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. I allowed Gilda to exit first. “Ladies first. I have to greet the VIPs, so just enjoy yourself for a while.”
“Will do.”
I stood between the elevators, waiting for the first guests to arrive. And the first ones were none other than the Princesses, the Captain of the Guard, and the Elements of Harmony. That was pretty much all the VIPs I needed to greet.
They all looked good, except for the Captain of the Guard. Royal Guard dress uniforms looked almost as stupid as their useless armor.
“Well, hello to all of you. My name is Marked Target, and I’m your host tonight.”
Pinkie Pie - yes, I knew all of their names beforehoof - rushed to hug me. “Everypony, this is my long-lost brother-from-another-mother!”
“Uh, hi.” How the did she know that? “Anyway, I’ve got seats for all of you set up. I’ll escort you to them.” And I escorted them to their seats. Betcha didn’t see that one coming.
“It’s been a while, Mark,” Twilight Sparkle noted. She and I actually knew each other when we were young, back when I lived in Canterlot most of the year. It was late elementary school and all of middle school and high school, I think.
Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns teaches a lot besides magic, so there were actually plenty of pegasi and earth ponies like me there too. It was a boarding school too, and I got homesick a few times. Really, I only spent the first half of my life as a minor in Manehattan, and some breaks and holidays after that.
“Yeah, it has. How’s um, being Princess Celestia’s protégé working out? Not that it could possibly go wrong.” I was always really awkward around her back then, because I had a crush on her ever since she got several bullies to leave me alone; she stood up to them when I couldn’t bring myself to. She was a year younger than me, and she had more guts. It was embarrassing.
“Uh, good?” She seemed a bit confused by my question and self-answer.
“Good, good, ummm… Oh look, the Wonderbolts are here!”
I galloped over to the elevator and greeted them.
Gilda Grimwing
I was enjoying free drinks and watching wrestling at the bar. This Gala wasn’t so bad. I mean, almost no-one was here yet. Except Dash and her friends, and the Princesses and that Guard Captain guy. Then the Wonderbolts showed up, and Mark showed them to the VIP section.
I saw how excited Dash was to be in the same section as her idols, at a nice gig like this. Nothing raining on her parade. I wasn’t gonna spoil that for her.
Mark saw me at the bar and trotted over to pat me on the back. “Hey, let’s go find a table, order some food, okay?”
I shook my head, looking into my glass. I’d only had one, and I hadn’t touched it after I saw Rainbow Dash. If I had one, I’d have more. If I had more, I’d get drunk. If I got drunk, I’d be confrontational towards her and cause a huge scene. If I caused a scene, I'd have to do community service. I hate the community.
“Hey,” Mark whispered. “This is a second chance, don’t waste it. You said she likes the Wonderbolts, right?”
“Yeah?”
“I happen to know Soarin from back when he was an pilot so I can change the subject if you can’t get through at first… Just try, okay? You’re gonna regret not taking this chance later.”
“Okay.” I nodded. We got up and headed for the VIP section, where a few Royal Guards stopped us, blocking our passage with crossed spears.
“Names?” one of them said.
“Marked Target and Gilda Grimwing.”
“Gilda!?” I saw Dash spin around to face me. She grimaced, and I looked away. “Take your date and buzz off, I don’t wanna talk to you.”
We walked in anyway.
“C'mon, go away!”
"Well do you want us to come or go? You're contradicting yourself!"
A nudge toward Dash and I was walking again. I reached the table where the Elements were all sitting and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was a jerk to all of you two years ago. You were just trying to make me feel welcome, and with everything that was going on in my life at the time I lashed out at all of you. I came to Ponyville because I needed a friend, and instead I feel like a made an enemy. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but at least understand that I was going through Tartarus.”
There was a long silence. It felt like forever, as lame as that sounds.
“I forgive you,” Dash answered. One by one, her friends agreed.
“Aww,” Pinkie moaned, apparently finding this whole thing touching, which I guess it kinda was. I still think she’s still annoying as all Tartarus though.
Mark and I pulled some seats up to the table, and the Princesses lifted their table to be part of ours.
“Thanks, Mark,” I whispered.
Marked Target
So we chatted for a while. I still can’t believe how personable the Princesses are, or Celestia at least. Luna just sat there, saying almost nothing. She was giving off a vibe that said "I really don't want to be here."
“So, what’s your take on these superheroes running around?” Rainbow Dash asked. “I haven’t exactly had the best relationship with them.”
“I don’t see it harming anypony, they’re just helping clean up the streets,” I answered honestly.
“That’s really a job for the police,” Shining Armor responded.
“I disagree,” Gilda, well, disagreed.
“Well, the cops weren’t doing a good enough job on their own, and they’re damn good at what they do. Besides, they’re way better than the Royal Guard.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Shining dared me to repeat myself or rescind my statement.
“I said, the NYPD works smarter and harder to fight serious crime. Your Royal Guard, who haven’t seen any action besides the changeling invasion, are weak and flabby. Just because Canterlot and Ponyville are clean places doesn’t mean the rest of Equestria is. We have murder, arson, rape, robbery; all you have to worry about is somebody littering or disturbing the peace.” I stared him dead in the eyes.
“You punk. You think it’s easy guarding the Princesses?”
“Considering that they’re entirely capable of doing it on their own, yes. And I will not be called a punk by some pretty-colt who holds a ceremonial position because he has family in high places.”
“I worked for this, you arrogant hack. You inherited your position.”
“What’d you do, sign a few parking tickets and slap them on some noble’s carriage at the monumental risk of getting scolded? My father died trying to protect other board members.”
“I lead the Royal Guard, what’ve you done besides take over a company because of a piece of paper?”
“I’m military, you’re ceremonial law enforcement. I wear Multi-Terrain Pattern, you wear antique metal armor. I’ve been shot, you’ve had migraines from projecting a magical shield. The Royal Guard is babby-tier law enforcement.”
“Both of you, stop this!” Princess Celestia ordered. “I will not pick sides in this debate between military and law enforcement. Both of you, apologize. Now.”
You don’t disobey Princess Celestia. It just doesn’t happen.
“Sorry, I assumed you’d slacked because you came from money. No hard feelings,” Shining offered.
I sighed. “I made the same mistake, so I get it. I’m sorry too.” I pretended to mean it.
“But in the case of masked vigilantes, I really doubt the situation is bad enough to necessitate them,” Princess Celestia noted.
Gilda looked skeptical. “It’s escalation really. Cops increase patrols, criminals start carrying automatics. Cops buy bullet-proof vests, they buy armor-piercing ammo. It’s an arms race, and superheroes were the next logical step; the logical counter was supervillains.”
“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Shining Armor admitted.
The gala went pretty well for the next hour, with everypony socializing on the floor. Ponies making cheers, laughing at stories; it was all going according to my deliciously non-evil and low-fat plan.
A black mare ambled in, with a dozen thugs accompanying her. She fired a shotgun upwards, and everything went silent except for the music in the background.
“Good evening, fillies and gentlecolts, we are tonight’s entertainment. I only have one question: where is Princess Celestia?”
I got up from my seat and opened a panic room, motioning for the Princesses to get in while none of the thugs were looking. Inside that room, the alicorns would be able to observe what was going on.
Plan B.
Gilda Grimwing
“Hey,” Marked Target whispered to me, Shining Armor and the Elements. “I’ve got a plan for this. I’ll slip out one of the side passages and call in the good guys and coordinate a response. Gilda, how much ammo you got?”
“Ten, plus one in the chamber. I grew up in a rough part of Cloudsdale, I can hold ‘em.”
He nodded. “Good. There’s a series of buttons behind the bar counter. Press up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A. Hit ‘Enter’ and you’ll get a mini-armory. My dad’s paranoia is about to pay off.”
He disappeared into a hallway.
Black Death walked towards us.
“Pinkie, I missed you so much!” She cheered in that uneven, psychotic way of hers.
“Who are you?”
“Pinkie, I’m hurt ! Don’t you recognize your sister? The one you were never there for after she was in a workplace accident!”
“I-Inkie?” Her eyes shrunk in horror. It surprised me, but I felt bad for her.
She turned to look at me and my spine froze solid. “You look familiar…”
If she called me out as Hard Target’s killer…
“Nooo, all griffons look the same to me. Ha!”
“Why are you doing this?” Shining asked.
"Holy shit, why don't you just ask the sky why it's fucking blue?" I hissed at him.
“Well, it turns out that when you mix Changeling and pony DNA, it doesn’t kill you. It doesn’t just give you super-equine physical abilities. No, nononono. It opened my eyes. Do you know what our government has in common with changelings?”
I could see the others struggle to come up with a response. I was trying to plan an offensive, but there was no opening. The VIP section was completely blocked off, and there was nothing I could use as decent cover. And I couldn’t reveal my powers in front of everybody.
“Well, I’m not going to say everything . But we share too much for our own good. We live in hives, little drones doing our jobs. We are led by a very powerful female. We’re both parasites really, but they only consume natural endorphins.”
“And what do we consume, if we’re parasites like you say?” Rarity demanded.
“We consume everything! We find a nice spot, and we build a town. We take everything around that spot, we drain the nutrients from the soil, we plunder every mineral. We pollute the environment with our own waste and flatten the whole region just so we can build outwards! Every species forms a sort of equilibrium with their environment, adapts to it , but we adapt it to us !”
If I flipped that table…
“So here’s the question, who’s the bigger parasite? The one that leeches from the whole planet, or the one that leeches off them ? It made me crazy , trying to figure it out! So, I stopped being crazy, and decided to make an answer! If I can tear down the greatest city on Equis, disrupt the hive’s order, I can make ponies the morally superior species!”
It couldn’t be flipped, only a small part of it could. I discreetly motioned for the others to make a run for it as soon as there was an opening. I’d flip the smaller part of the table and use it as cover.
I saw one of the Wonderbolts, Soarin I think, charge her. She dodged his lunge and hit him in the base of the skull with the butt of her shotgun.
“You’ve got some fight in you, handsome. I like that.”
Everyone was focused on her. So focused we didn’t see him until he was just a few yards behind her.
“Then you’re gonna love me,” Blue Blaze said in a gravelly voice.
Marked Target
She’d just butted a friend of mine in the head with a shotgun. Shit was on like Unicon.
“You’ve got some fight in you, handsome. I like that,” She mocked.
“Then you’re gonna love me.”
I threw a fireball at one of her thugs and headbutted her, sending her sliding across the polished marble floor. Gilda pushed over part of the table we’d sat at earlier and drew her pistol, while the Elements and Shining scattered. The thugs barricaded the doors, preventing any exits save through the windows.
"Sorry. You're really not my type," She responded, as if nothing had happened.
The goons started to swarm me, forming a circle, and began unloading their weapons into my body. The morons didn’t even have the sense to burst fire and save ammo; they just hipfired until they were all empty. I heard the thunder stop and the clicking of empty weapons. I stirred and their flattened slugs fell to the floor.
“My turn.”
I channeled my body heat into a pulse of heat, the small but intense pressure wave sending them flying against the walls. It was too easy. Of course, I didn’t even have to say that to jinx everything.
I heard a scream, and saw that black mare holding Twilight Sparkle, and a Desert Eagle in her other hoof. I didn’t have a good shot for a fireball. Her back was against a large window too.
“Let her go!”
“A very poor choice of words,” She chuckled. She threw Twilight out the window, and I bolted out after her, diving towards the city streets hundreds of yards below. I felt the wind beat against my body and my cape as I closed the gap. About halfway down, I reached her.
“Grab on!” I shouted, holding out my hooves. She did as I told her, and I turned my cape into a wing, slowing our descent drastically. As we neared the ground I rolled over to be on bottom and take the force of the impact, and she teleported out of my hooves.
I hit the ground hard, leaving a yard-deep crater in the asphalt. My vision was spinning, and I shook my head to clear it. Twilight galloped over to me. I guess she’d just teleported to the ground, probably because teleportation spells are line-of-sight when they’re quick-casts. At least, that's my understanding.
“Are you okay!?” She asked as I got to my hooves. I could hear sirens coming.
“I’m fine. Get back up there and let your friends know you’re okay. I have to get out of here before the cops arrive.”
“Wait before you go, what’s your name?”
“B-blue Blaze.”
Gilda Grimwing
After that hero chased Twilight out the window, I flipped part of the table and started shooting. I put a few of the thugs down before I was half empty. They started firing back and I rushed to the bar, taking potshots as I went. I think I got one in the head.
I slid behind the counter and entered the code Mark gave me. The liquor bottles all magnetized and shut themselves, and the whole cabinet went down into the floor. A new one filled with guns ascended from below. I grabbed a Mk 18 fitted with a CompM4 and a flashlight grip. I accidentally ejected the first round manually trying to make sure there was a round chambered, not something I usually did, and fired two-round bursts at the remaining thugs. The cockbites dropped like flies.
I let the mag slide out automatically, which is a feature that makes AR-based guns faster to reload but less reliable, and grabbed a new one from the stash.
I heard a battering ram knock down the doors, and SWAT stormed in.
“FREEZE!”
“GID AUN DE GRAU!! AUN DE GRAU NAUGH!”
“Drop your weapon!”
“It’s okay, she’s a good guy!” Mark called from behind them as he trotted out front and over to me. Twilight cantered in too, and hugged her friends.
“So, I guess you saw some action?” I said.
“Yep. KO'd a few thugs, no big deal,” He said with false confidence. He looked around at all the damage. “You do all this?”
“Nah, some superhero.”
“He said his name was ‘Blue Blaze’,” Twilight interjected. “Do you think that’s his real name?”
"No, that's a stupid name." Gilda responded.
A SWAT officer cantered over. “No. He saved my unit a couple weeks ago, and we looked the name up just in case. No matches in any database. Our vigilante unit is working on it, but there isn’t much effort on him. Commissioner’s got a hard-on for the Mysterious Mare Do Well, though.” He left right after he dropped that bit of info.
I saw Dash’s eyes narrow, and her friends looked nervous. “You wanna tell me what that look’s about?” I asked.
“I plead the Fifth! My Fifth Amendment right says that I can’t be made to bear witness against myself!” Pinkie shouted.
“Fifth amendment to what?” A bemused Twilight asked.
“The Constitution! I’m not talking until my lawyer gets here. I know my rights! I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. I have a right to an attorney, if I cannot afford one, one will be provided for me.”
“Pinkie, I’m not a cop,” I said.
“How do I know you’re not an undercover cop?”
I could've proved it by punching her. Good thing I didn't.
Anyway, that went on for a while.
After we cleared out, Mark took us all to his tower, although the Princesses were escorted back to Canterlot. We got to hear the tale of the Mysterious Mare Do Well. Shining Armor, being the hypocritical douche he was, said that it was different when his sister did it, because she and her friends weren’t interfering in police business, just being humble citizens protecting Ponyville from accidents and using the costume as a shield from public adoration.
Marked Target
Well, I have to say the story behind the MMDW was interesting. And that Shining Armor is a hypocrite. Then again, if I had a younger sibling to be protective of, maybe I’d be like that too.
Anyway, I got Twilight’s email and normal address, so maybe I can catch up with her sometime. Provided I don’t act like a complete idiot.
I set them all up with a ride to their pickup area and sent them on their way. They got on their chariot and went back to Ponyville. If you ignore the break-in and attempted murder, it was a pretty sweet night.
After I got Gilda a ride home, I would’ve hit the hay, but I just couldn’t. I needed to know who that mare was. I accessed the computer in my penthouse and brought Cue up on video chat.
“Cue, you heard about what happened tonight?”
“Yes. It would seem my teleporter functioned admirably, too.”
“It did. Now, I need everything I can get my hooves on about this mare.”
“Already done. Sending it to you now.” A dossier appeared on-screen. “Black Death, formerly known as Inkamena Pie.”
“Are she and I-”
“No, I’ve confirmed Pinkamena was your only relative in the Pie family. Her known abilities include enhanced strength, speed, endurance, healing abilities, and limited shape-shifting. She’s a violent anarchist, motivated by a desire to make ponykind morally purer than the changelings, from whom her powers came.”
I spent all night scrounging information about her. One thing in particular jumped out at me. She was the only identified participant in the raid that killed my father. The other was an anonymous griffon female, presumed dead in line with Black Death's MO. The fact that a female griffon was found dead nearby just meant she would be even harder to trace, because it confirmed she'd stuck to her procedures.
Marked Target
The attack on the Gala had been months ago, and the trail had gone cold since then. I’d gotten everypony I could to keep an ear out for her, but nothing came in. Crime was as frequent as always, and I took a few months off to enjoy a new game. Well, really I just did hero stuff less, although it was the “normal” mix of high-profile and low-profile events. Good news was I wasn’t fatigued or anything, and that I hadn’t made a lot of enemies yet. The bad news? A lot of cops got offed last week, and several heroes were badly injured trying to intervene. Now crime is getting worse, and organized crime even more so.
I needed to get back in the game, make Blue Blaze a bigger part of my schedule. So I did. I traced the killings to a criminal organization called the Orange Mafia. A big, tough one, with no easy way of eliminating it. It would be an interesting quest.
Gilda Grimwing
When that punk tried to shake me down in front of Marked Target, I knew it was time to stop trying to please those cockbites and get back at them. I found out who they were working for, and what I’d get if I took them out. The holidays were busy though, so I decided to plan my attack instead of winging it and going at the Orange Mafia.
The thing about the Orange Mafia was that it was pretty inclusive. You wanted in, all you had to do was prove yourself. Zebras, griffons, diamond dogs, and your garden variety ponies; they were all allowed in. Not only were they inclusive, but they had their talons in a lot of pies; drugs, extortion, prostitution, racketeering, the whole nine yards.
Some research revealed a pretty solid chain of command. It was still a pyramid in the sense of leadership, but it was a lot wider than it was tall, even at the highest level. Finding the real head to cut off would be more trouble than it was worth. You’d think this system would have some instability, but everyone stuck to it.
Offing the leader wasn’t an option, on account of how time-consuming it would be to do it over and over. Killing low-level thugs was a waste of time. The middle management was pretty meaty. This was more a matter of taking out assets and certain mid-level cronies than it was about icing goons.
Say for example, I blow up a warehouse they produce drugs in and kill one of the guys they have coordinating that shit in a given area, and that disrupts their operations there. Without dope to deal and someone who knows the area to manage it, that turf starts to fall apart. Do some more stuff like that and they’ll pull out entirely. At least, that was the idea.
While I was planning all this, I began stocking up on weapons, ammo, gadgets and stuff. Then I realized that if I started busting on dealers, prices everywhere would go up, so I jacked a few months’ worth of weed instead of buying it. Wrath of Bong shall not go unfed.
Early in February, I was ready. I got my muscle suit and mask on and headed to the industrial area. If there was one thing I could count on from experience, it was the empty warehouses being used for less-than-legal activities. Not only that, but some of my contacts gave me solid info on the Orange Mafia’s activity in the area.
I knew that cops were trying to clean up this whole area of New Yoke, and they’d be part of getting the OM outta there one way or the other. I figured I’d do the heavy lifting and let them clean up.
As I looked over the area, sitting atop a building next to a gargoyle statue, I went over my gear.
I had a pair of wireless earbuds hooked up to my suit’s built-in radio, so I’d be able to monitor any police chatter or calls. The user’s manual for this thing is huge, but I guess I should be glad it was designed for military use instead of just for construction workers or something. I’m finding new features in it every few days. And since even my tail is covered, and only my head and neck are exposed, I don’t leave behind much DNA evidence.
I had to ditch my Pega-Ordnance pistols a while ago, so I upgraded to a pair of black FNP-45s with micro reflex sights, laser sights, and a suppressor for each of them. The cans weren’t on yet though.
I leapt from my vantage point on a nearby building, and flew across the area. I couldn’t have asked for a better night. It was cloudy and moonless, so it’d be easier for me to fly around unnoticed.
After a minute and a half of flight, I looked down at the GPS app for the smartphone I brought; I had a few of them to use for work, all registered to fake identities. The suit I wore had another function I had just found out about: it could store data, meaning I could use it as a sort of proxy, so any phone I brought with me could be treated as my personal phone, but if I lose it the phone gets wiped. I’d tagged a few target buildings so I’d be able to find them more easily.
I landed on the roof of the closest one and peered into the convenient glass skylight. I guess it was there so that there’d be illumination during the day without having to connect to the city’s power grid. It also meant a dynamic entry point.
Peering in, I saw a lot of floodlights inside, and some serious firepower being unloaded. This must’ve been one of the supply shipments for their gunrunning operation. I figured I might wanna get some of my own firepower from here.
I took a protracted breath and delicately slid open one of the windowpanes, so I could get a clear shot at the lights. I drew one pistol and screwed on a suppressor, then did likewise for the other.
I took note of the positions of all the floodlights in the room, and aimed my weapons. Lights cut out and sparks flew as each shot I fired knocked out a light, and in a few seconds there were only a few flickering bulbs left. I holstered one of my weapons and dropped in.
Landing on the back of a zebra, I broke one thug’s back. I took aim at another and fired several shots, taking satisfaction in the puffs of blood lit up by the malfunctioning lights.
A diamond dog barked an order – Yeah, I guess that is kinda funny – And shouting began. A set of emergency lights came on, lighting the room enough for me to see all my enemies.
I grabbed some sneaky zigger trying to sneak up on me with my free talon and threw him across the room, then hit him with a lethal electric shock after he landed.
“That griffon got superpowers!?” Some pegasus exclaimed. I hit him with a stream of electricity that shut him up.
“Is it really that shocking?” I taunted. My answer was an avalanche of bullets, a few of which hit me.
I flew to a nearby wall and leapt off of it to tackle a griffon with a rifle, and snapped his neck after I hit him. I grabbed his weapon and aimed at a mobster, firing a burst that grouped in his chest. I jumped and flew over a couple more, hitting them both with a burst that ate up half of the magazine.
The room was silent, and I surveyed the entirety of it to make sure I was clear. After confirming I was safe, I looked over the weapons they had and took some pictures of shipping manifests they had with my phone; that was partly as insurance, and partly for later use. Who knew when I might need to acquire some mil-spec hardware?
I looked at the rifle in my talon; it was a real keeper. A jet black SCAR-H with a shortened close-quarters barrel, an Enhanced Grenade Launcher Module, an ACOG sight, a laser sight, and a threaded barrel. I grabbed some magazines and stuffed them into my muscle suit’s pouches, then loaded a new one.
After I reloaded my pistols, I checked the warehouse off on my phone and moved on to the next, my newfound rifle slung over my back.
Marked Target
As I landed on top of a warehouse, I activated my visor’s X-ray function to look through the roof. Inside I could see a score of cronies shuffling around. It looked like a few lead-lines containers were inside, and the lining of said containers made my visor useless. I could tell they were open, but one hadn’t been unloaded yet.
The other containers had apparently contained – I shit you not – crates of fish. I had a hunch they were stuffed with something else, because I’d seen that kind of thing on TV before, and the firepower these guys had didn’t exactly instill trust that they were law-abiding citizens.
I found a side entrance and prepared to kick down the door. I switched off my X-ray function and bucked the door, hard. It flew off its hinges, across the room and shattered on the opposite wall.
“Whoops, too hard.”
A second breach caught my attention, and bullets started flying in a direction that was not towards me. I rushed in to take advantage of the situation, and began to knock out criminals with weak fireballs, punches and kicks. I got about half when I saw a griffon clad in a red muscle suit with black accents. The only visible part of her was her beak, neck and face, which was obscured by a mask.
Reacting to my presence, she grabbed the sole remaining goon and took him hostage. A gun to his head kept me from making a move. I wouldn’t be responsible for any deaths if I could help it. I wouldn’t lose sleep if I had to do it, but right now his death would be worthless.
“Calm your teats!” I shouted. “Nopony needs to die!”
“Blue Blaze. I was wondering when I’d run into you,” She said.
“Have we met?”
“No, but I’ve heard of you. Call me Talonetta.” She spoke as if she were making small-talk with a normal person, not talking to a hero while holding a hostage at gunpoint. I have to admit, that’s pretty ballsy.
“Alright, Talonetta. If you let that goon go, I’ll knock him out and let you walk away from this.”
“Alright, let me think about it.” I noticed she had a second pistol holstered, and a rifle over her back; a SCAR judging by the stock.
“Nice rifle.”
“Thanks, I got it off another thug a little while ago.”
“What’re you doing this for, anyway? You a vigilante?”
She smirked. “I’m no philanthropist. I’m taking the Orange Mafia down, and I’m gonna take their most prized possessions when I’m done. Right now, I’m just taking care of some of their assets. Like this fucker right here!” She pressed her gun against his temple and twisted it some. “He’s in charge of smuggling through the docks and warehouses. The top ponies may be easily replaceable, but this guy isn’t.”
“So you think I’ll let you go and kill this guy just because he’s an important member of the OM?”
“Exactly.”
I began to amble towards her, and she turned her gun on me.
“Freeze!” She fired a trio of shots, the bullets impacting something behind me. I began to feel cold, then to feel my strength ebb. I realized what had been in the loaded container.
Liquid nitrogen!
My suit iced over, and whether or not the effects of the cold were significantly delayed by the countermeasures in my suit was unclear. I felt the bite of the cold on every inch of my body, an agony I felt helpless against.
Talonetta executed the smuggler and headed out, leaving me to die a slow, painful death. As she left, she took a casual shot at me, and the bullet pierced my suit. With a slug in my right shoulder, she took another shot at my chest. I felt it travel through and exit my back, and I screamed as loud as I could.
Finally, she exited the building, leaving me to freeze. Even as the stream of the super-cooled liquid ceased, I still couldn’t move. There wasn’t any more to keep me down with, but there wasn’t any more needed.
There was only one thing I could try. A long shot that would work perfectly or fizzle.
I concentrated on what body heat I had left, the base of all the fire I had. And all it did was stop the encroaching cold, ineffectual at reversing it. I found myself angry, at Talonetta, at myself for my lapse in situational awareness, at that malfunctioning X-ray machine that gave me these damned powers in the first place.
I’m not sure how, but that anger gave my powers they boost they needed to fight off the cold. Within seconds, the frost and ice on my costume melted, and I felt just fine. A bit drained, but mostly fine. The gunshot wounds were still there, but I didn’t feel much pain.
I shook off some of the water that was left and darted outside, using the same exit Talonetta had. I switched the filter on my lenses to SMART V1, which had the ability to see through obstacles and highlight all living things of sufficient size in a yellow outline. I searched for the silhouette of a griffon against the night sky. And I found one.
“Gotcha this time,” I muttered, grinning under my mask. I saw her continue to another warehouse and I dashed to it, my cape billowing in the wind. I’m glad I decided to keep it, because it just looks so cool.
I turned and bucked down the door, and it flew in to collide with Talonetta. Totally unintentional, but totally awesome. I rushed in and headbutted a guard, then punched his buddy in the face. I threw a fireball at a fire extinguisher and it burst the pressurized cylinder, stunning a few more goons long enough for me to do a little knockout dance. With them out of the picture, I daggers stared at Talonetta, who stared right back at me.
“Couldn’t stay down, huh?” She asked. The villainess aimed an FNP-45 at me and fired several shots. They all flattened when they hit me, since my powers were back. “Ah, shit.”
She holstered her pistol and shifted to an aggressive forward-leaning stance, spreading her crimson-coated wings. I realized she was wearing a muscle suit, which would increase her already impressive griffon strength.
Still, I stood my ground and took a similar stance. My hooves began to cover themselves in flame, and I cracked my neck threateningly.
We charged at each other, and my skull impacted her chest hard. In return, she slashed at me, and realized she wasn’t doing much. Talonetta hit me with an uppercut right after, and sent me flying back a few yards. She followed with a few bolts of lightning.
I guess a super-powered griffon can break through my “invulnerability”, because that hurt like all Tartarus. I rolled over and got to my hooves, and found my opponent charging at me. I did a quick turn and bucked her in the torso with a pair of flaming hind hooves. I heard a crack and a scream and turned around to see her clutching where I’d hit her.
I heard a sickening sound that sounded like liquid flowing and bones twisting, and I saw her wound heal itself almost completely, and then her suit covered the exposed flesh. She had healing abilities, increased strength, electrical manipulation, and a self-regenerating suit. We fought for what felt like an hour, pummeling each other endlessly. It was a stalemate, with her healing and strength countering my attacks and invulnerability. If either of us lost, it would be due to exhaustion. I smashed one of her pistols, but that was the only gain I made in the entire fight.
Presumably tired of fighting, she flew straight up, breaking through the skylight. I heard sirens coming, so I bailed too. I got to the roof and activated my teleporter, sending me back to my hideout in a flash of golden light.
After I got out of my suit, I sent it to Cue so he could fix it up. I’m pretty sure the ballistic damage was minor, but I have no idea what the cold and that fight did to it. I wrote an assessment of the night and filed it; I figured that keeping track of things would help with the hero stuff.
With that done, I had my wounds dressed discreetly. I didn’t want to run around with two very obvious untreated gunshot wounds and no explanation for how I them. Some Bactine was enough to fix the outward appearance of them, by which I mean disguise them as scars rather than fresh injuries.
I headed up to my penthouse suite and conked out.
Gilda Grimwing
The next afternoon, I was supposed to hang with Mark. Of course after a night of kicking ass and getting my ass kicked, I needed some shut-eye. I went home, hid my shit and crashed on my bed without even getting under the covers.
The next morning, I got up and had breakfast, then went outside to get the newspaper. I slumped on my couch and read a few articles in the international section. Then there was a story in the national section about rumors of aliens landing near Ponyville. Flipping to the New Yoke section, I found an article about my antics the previous night. It said “Warehouse District Turns Deadly as Hero and Villainess Clash”.
Police are investigating a series of attacks in the warehouse district that left twenty-seven known criminals dead, and twenty-five unconscious. The criminals in question were believed to be associated with the Orange Mafia, but police ponies declined to comment on their ties to any known crime syndicate.
According to a source inside the police department who wished to remain anonymous, a series of tapes recovered from the crime scenes showed a griffon female, a villain with the alias “Talonetta” to be responsible for the killings, and hero “Blue Blaze” to be responsible for the non-lethal assaults. The two scuffled for approximately twenty minutes, but Talonetta and Blue Blaze both escaped seemingly unharmed.
The same source informed us that much of what was recovered was military-grade weaponry and ammunition, large quantities of illicit substances, and counterfeit currency.
“This is a major catch,” SWAT Lieutenant Stainless Steel said on the subject. “Don’t get me wrong, these heroes are a real mixed bag. Some of them are less ‘Daredevil’ and more ‘Dirty Marey’,” the officer went on, referring to Marevel’s blind lawyer turned superhero and Flint Westhoof’s iconic rogue cop, respectively. “Still, most of them have their hearts in the right place.”
The official police line, however, disavows all “heroes” as amateurs interfering in police business.
“These costumed freaks are a menace. I don’t care what side they’re on, they’re disturbing the peace and destroying property. They think they’re making life better, but all they’ve done is create a need for deadlier criminals. It’s an arms race, and the whole city is in the middle of it,” The Police Commissioner said.
There is no word from the Guild of Calamitous Intent, the official villain alliance, and their hero-aligned counterpart organization, the Righteous Shield Association.
Right on the next page, there was an mini-article titled “Heroes and Villains to Meet for First-Ever Social Gathering and Summit.”
A new development has surfaced on the secretive two-party talks between the Guild of Calamitous Intent, the premiere organization of villains, and the Righteous Shield Association, the counterpart alliance for heroes. A summit is being held between members of the New Yoke chapters of the two organizations.
“The fuck?” I blurted. I went back to my room and got on my computer, logging into my alternate Pmail account, the one I use for villain stuff.
I found an email that was about just what the newspaper said. I opened and read it.
From: Guild of Calamitous Intent NY [mailto:evilempirecity@GNC.com ]talonetta@pmail.com
If you’re reading this, then as a member of our New Yoke City chapter you’ve been invited to a four-day retreat starting this Friday at midnight!
As a product of the talks between the GNC and the Righteous Shield Association, a large, privately owned resort in the north has been bought out by the GNC and RSA. The resort includes spas, heated pools, a state-of-the-art facility designed for almost any exercise and training regimen a villain(ess) or hero(ine) could want or need, recreational or otherwise!
Not only can you enjoy these activities, you can attend concerts featuring major artists, not just cover artists. For those interested in movies, a huge theater with the capacity for over a dozen standard-sized showings simultaneously is also on-site.
Our agreement means complete privacy, so you won’t have to wear your costumes nonstop, and your rooms are completely free of any surveillance devices. Feel free to go commando, call friends/family/business associates, use illicit substances, and have intimate moments with a fellow/rival villain(ess).
The best part? Your monthly membership fees already cover all of this, so you don’t have to pay a bit out of pocket! Everything from the minibar in your room to the movies to the internet connection is all paid for ahead of time.
However, both we at the Guild of Calamitous Intent and the folks at the RSA strongly request that you refrain from violating the privacy of others, or committing any harmful or malicious acts against others regardless of affiliation. Additionally, please remember that both organizations discourage inter-faction relations of a personal nature, and evidence of such infractions on this retreat or anywhere else will be met with increasing penalties for each incident.
Your carpool partners will be assigned tomorrow.
We look forward to seeing you this weekend!
“Aw, sick! I get a vacation!” I shouted, springing up from my seat. Then my chest hurt a bit, which I took to mean I was still sore from that fight from the previous night. Hopefully that’d be better by the time the retreat came around.
I glanced at my watch and saw that there was time for me to play a few hours of video games before I went over to Mark’s.
Marked Target
I got up feeling a bit sore, so I took some Ibuprofen gel capsules. Then I ate my breakfast. I read the New Yoke Times, saw an article about the previous night, and saw one about an upcoming retreat for heroes and villains. So I checked my hero email account and found out I was gonna get to go to a retreat that weekend. That was pretty cool.
What I was really looking forward to was that I’d get to hang out with Gilda later. While I waited, I played video games.
Anyway, the front desk told me Gilda was on her way up to my penthouse – Did I mention how much I like this place compared to my old apartment? Anyway, I heard she was coming up and I finished up the match, then exited to the matchmaking lobby.
The elevator reached my level, and I greeted Gilda. She patted my back as we headed inside, and I winced; the Ibuprofen must’ve not kicked in yet. I don’t think she noticed it though.
When we sat down and began to talk, I noticed her eying my torso suspiciously.
“What’s with those scars?”
“Uh, old war wounds. I, um, used a different conditioner, and they just show through now.” I’m a boss at lying to others, especially to their faces.
“Riiight. Anyway, I’m gonna be out of town for four days this weekend. Just lettin’ you know.”
“Me too, starting Friday.”
I noticed a pair of bruises on her chest, and my mind began to race.
She was interested in those wounds I got the night before. She was going out of town this Friday, the same day as the heroes and villain’s retreat started. She had the same visual profile as Talonetta. She had bruises on the exact same place I kicked Talonetta the previous night.
I could see that her mind was racing too, almost as fast as my mind. It was like the Equestrian Le Manes Series, but with minds.
She probably connected my being out of town for the retreat, the wounds inflicted in the same areas as Blue Blaze was shot, the fact that I was an earth pony stallion like him, and most of all that I had the training, motivation and resources to explain me being a superhero.
Gilda clenched her talons and threw a punch at me, hitting me square in the jaw. I didn’t have my suit to cushion the blow or give me any tactical advantages, and she didn’t have her suit to augment her strength. She threw me across the room and into the wall, then began to electrify her talons for a flurry of punches.
I countered with a headbutt and a fireball to her hind leg. It burnt off her fur and some skin, but it quickly regenerated. I tackled her to the ground and we tumbled about, hitting each other.
For a moment I was on top and we both stopped, panting from the exertion. I looked her dead in the eyes and grinned. She gave me a seductive look right back. We did it right there, right then, for about an hour.