Chapters The final defeat of Discord is an event marked in history. Six mares, under the tutelage of both princesses, managed to escape from the dungeon of Discord and overpower him with the long-lost power of harmony itself at their beck and call. Like most history in Equestria, it is a tale of adventure, love, and the power of friendship. Also like most history in Equestria, it was almost insultingly wrong. The actual story shows the mares in a much less flattering light, with the proud heroine managing to win through force of will, determination, and a complete lack of shame normally only seen in the most adventurous of fillies and colts.
The true story begins in the outskirts of the small town of Discordtroplis. Though the town itself was little more than a few small farms and a post office, it held the filly that would herald a new age in Equestria. She was fumbling armor on over her orange fur, with metal plates shaking into place over her back. “I swear, these things are so hard to get in the right place.” She flexed her wings a few times, causing the plates to shift, but not open to allow her the use of her small wings. “ARGH, BUCK IT!” She strapped the plates into position, keeping her wings tight to her body. “Not like they’re good for much anyway.” SHe grabbed the helmet she had ‘acquired’ from an old soldier. Or if one were being more honest, one that she stole from some brigand attempting to rob a party train. The volley of confetti that launched him to an unknown fate had left his helmet lying on the ground.
Her purple Mane was matted down by the helmet, which obscured her eyes. While she silently mourned the death of her peripheral vision, she made her way to the mirror. She paused at it, trying to remember if this mirror was a warped as the ones outside, at a glance it looked mostly right, her proportions were accurate, and her armor was a nice somber black. Until she remembered the helmet was tan. And with that the armors true nature snapped into being in her reflection. The mismatched armor had a different color on each plate, making this mismatched plates look even more out of place. She vaguely realized she could probably use the plates for her new preferred hunting grounds. Namely the palace of Discord.
She nodded at her unfortunate camouflage, but not before wondering why any piece of armor would be colored purple, let alone a breastplate. But she banished them with a calming breath. “Now only one thing left. If I’m gonna be the hero who beats Discord, I need a cool name.” She raised a hoof to her snout in thought. “Hmmm, I know Dead Beat!” She stomped her hoof on the ground, before sagging at the name. “Actually that sounds kinda stupid, like some foal who still believes in Cutie Marks and stuff.” After a moment of sagging, she straightened up. “But, it’s better than the alternative anyway. Now the only thing left to do it get to town hall and beat Discord.” She stood up and walked through her door, enjoying the small marshmallow hail as she made her way to her inevitable destiny, with no plan. This was going to end about as well as you would expect.
In other things you might expect, Discord did not actually have a set in place castle. Instead, he ruled from everywhere. Every town hall led directly into Discord’s palace, as well as one in three bathrooms. This has led to several close calls, embarrassing situations, and one short-lived war against an unknown Griffon. But it made Dead Beats job all the easier. She simply walked through the front doors of the small building with the neon sign proclaiming it to be Town Hall and found herself in an ornate throne room.
The room itself was a sugar-philes wet dream. Candy cane pillars supported a ceiling made of the finest chocolate chip, the floor underneath Dead Beat’s hooves had the unmistakable feeling of sugar cookie, and the walls were devils food cake. The throne that sat in front of her was the only exception. She did not know the history behind the ivory and gold throne that Discord refused to change, but it stood out like a sore hoof. The lone bastion of normality in a sea of strange delicacies. Perhaps that was the reasoning, a bit of order to show just how chaotic the land truly was. She shook the thought out of her head. Such musings were for historians. She was a mare of action. “DISCORD, I HAVE COME TO END YOUR EVIL REIGN!”
She shouted into the empty throne room and waited. Second piled on after second, making her fur stand on end. After hours of waiting. (Read: one minute) a yawn broke the silence. A tall figure walked through the wall beside her. Lord Discord, in all his gangly glory, had walked beside her. Still wearing a pair of Power Pony Pajama’s, and his crown sporting a nightcap coming from the center. After smacking his lips a few times he looked to Dead Beat. “Gimme a sec, causing chaos can really mess with your sleep schedule.”
Scootaloo stared as Discord snapped his fingers, a coffee mug clapping into existence beside him. It was coated in rainbow design, which faded to a dull gray as he sipped it, leaving it to be a grey and dull mug. He let out a content sigh and smacked his tail against the ground. “I tell you what, a good cup of Joe in the mornings is exactly what you need to get a good start on the day.” He turned to face Dead Beat, still holding his mug. “Now then, it appears I have another usurper leading a brave one mare charge into my castle today.”
Dead Beat nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been forced to live under your chaotic tyranny for far too long. Farms can’t grow food, children can’t play freely in the streets, and everyponies scared to talk to each other.” Dead Beat rose to her full height. Her confidence surging as her speech continued.”And I won’t stand for it, ponies deserve to be free!”
Discord looked at her with a smile on his face. “Well I thought it was an excellent speech, let’s see what our judges think.” He waved a hand beside him, revealing a panel of three Discord’s, all sitting behind a desk. They slowly all lifted their signs, and Discord flinched at the designs. “Oh, two firefighters and a bouncy ball, you know what that means?”
The wind fell out of Dead Beats sails, he really wasn’t taking this seriously at all, leaving her less sure of herself than moments ago. “Uh, that I get a free pass?”
Discord shook his head. “Nope, it means you have to try again.” Dead Beat nodded and took a deep breath to try to one-up herself. Only to be cut off as a plastic bag smacked into her face. She heard Discord’s laugh. “Not right now you silly little pony, after you play my little game.”
She slapped the bag away from her face and watched as Discord slowly floated over to her, reclining a bit as he looked her over. With a snap of his talons, she felt lighter, and her vision became clear of the armored walls that had surrounded her eyes. “After a quick costume change of course.”
She turned her head and saw the most ridiculous jester’s outfit ever. Every color in the rainbow seemed to be fighting for dominance over it and didn’t care for such little things as color-coordination or sanity. It had bells all over, causing her to sound like a hearths-warming caroller having a seizure. And the worst part was the hat. She could feel it as the thing seemed to slump over her head, and she could hear the multitude of bells jingling with her every move. “OH BUCK NO!” SHe began trying to pull it off, only to find it stuck fast to her body.
She heard Discords stupid laugh again. “Oh don’t go trying to take it off, it’s stuck there, until either you give up or win.” She glared as he coiled around nothing, never looking from her eyes. “The game is simple, you go through my little dungeon, and if you make it through that, I'll give you a shot at the crown, sound fair.” Dead Beat was about to answer but was cut off by yet another bag flying into her face. “DOn’t care, thems the rules. Give up and you get to be my court Jester. Buh Bye!” And before she could remove the bag, another snap echoed around her. Leaving the throne room empty, save Discord. “Well, hopefully, today will be more entertaining than yesterday. I do so love when a pony goes for gold.” He floated to the throne and say down, flicking his beard as he sat. “And who knows, maybe she’ll get lucky.”
Dead Beat saw black after the snap. Frantic blinking saw colors return in blurs and blotches. After blinking some more she realized the blurs and blobs were what was actually in front of her. A door splattered haphazardly in paints. Cotton candy was scattered across the unpainted sections, making the door look out of place in the normal, stone dungeon aesthetic that seemed to surround her. She reached out a lone hoof and instantly recoiled at the sticky paint and cotton candy. She stuck out her tongue in disgust and wiped her hoof across the ground, trying to clean off the vile substance. She took a moment to look for a door. Literally, any other door would do. Unfortunately, the room was barren. Cold stone in every direction besides the door. She sighed and dunked her hoof in cotton candy. She winced as her hoof fished around in the cotton candy door, before finally finding a handle. Wincing at the feeling of wet paint mixed with cotton candy making an entirely unpleasant feeling that went down to her bone.
The door opened, into the most disturbing area that Dead Beat had ever seen. She vaguely remembered a board game called Candyland she played as a kid. This looked like a mix between that, and a horrible swamp. Candy cane tree’s had licorice vines draping over a mars-like puddle of chocolate milk. Sour gummy worms were scattered about the swamp, making a disturbing footpath that Dead Beat might be able to use to cross. She slowly moved out of the doorway, testing the weight of the soft path. THough it squished under her hoof, it stayed above the chocolate quagmire. She moved onto it fully, coating her uncovered hooves in the crystal-like sour dust.
She groaned in disgust as she made her way across the sour gummy worms, occasionally having to hop from one to another to keep from swimming in the soup of chocolate milk underneath her. She marched through the swamp, trying desperately to ignore the various denizens of the swamp. However, she never accounted for them noticing her. She walked across a thin worm, that was snaking it’s way to a distant island of regular dirt in the candy-coated hellscape she found herself in.
Her first hint was a soft splash beside her. She turned to look at it, fearing some insane creation skulking right below the surface. Instead, she found a cat. The cat looked perfectly normal, in stained white fur with a gem-encrusted collar. In fact, the only odd thing about the cat at all was its size. After all, you didn’t see a pony-sized cat every day, that was more a Friday thing.
Dead Beat screamed as the cat pounced on the worm she was currently standing on, causing it to wiggle and spasm. She tried to valiantly hold her ground, but the jingle of her various bells seemed to surge the cat on. With it’s renewed attack Dead Beat was jettisoned from the Gummi worm. She splashed down in the chocolate milk, sour salt sticking to her outfit and fur in clumps and bunches. “EW EW EW EW EWWWW!!” She stood quickly, barely noticing how shallow the chocolate milk was. “By Chaos, it’s under my shirt, I need a shower right now!” She began trotting in place, trying to jar the various detritus from her fur.
A snap broke her out of her trance. Suddenly water was dumped all over her, along with maniacal laughter. “Oh, you are a treat dear!” Dead Beat turned, facing Discord, who was holding an empty bucket, still dripping water from its lip. “Most ‘heroes are all about traipsing through my minor little discomforts. And in you walk all ready to fight, and get freaked out by some chocolate milk in your uniform.”
Discord devolved into a fit of giggles, much to Dead Beats chagrin. “Buck you, I was tooled for a fight, not... not some playground game!”
Discord flipped in the air, looking at the young mare upside down. “Oh, my dear little pony. Life is a playground game. Not my fault ponies can’t play king of the hill.” A hill appeared from the mire, rising up and giving Discord a birds-eye view. “But enough from me, you’ve got a sentient marshmallow to meet.”
Scootaloo stared in confusion as Discord popped out of the room, collapsing the hill. Dead Beat was covered in the remains of the mountain. She paused as a pebble landed in her mouth, causing her to gag.
She spit it out and grimaced. “Ugh, dark chocolate.” She spit again, this time into the pool of chocolate milk that she began trotting through. It wasn’t very deep, but she felt every wave splash against her barrel. Wincing at the feeling of cold milk on her fur, she looked for a path through the bog. The only path had been the gummy worm trail, which was now thoroughly wrapped around the cat. Dead Beat stared as the cat happily rolled around, turning the only path that didn’t involve wading into an edible scarf. Dead beat sighed and looked at the mire between her and the ground. “Buck”
After some unfortunately splashy trotting, Dead Beat made it to the small island. She tried to shake off all the leftover chocolate from her now matted fur. “It’s gonna take forever to clean all this from my fur.”
She began trying to wipe off the offending detritus until a voice broke her from her solemn task. “Oh Darling, you simply must be on your way.” Dead Beat paused, looking over the landscape for the voice’s owner.
After glancing over a pile of marshmallows she paused. There was a splash of blue from the mound of marshmallow cream. Dead Beat stared for a moment. THen two as the blue colored area moved up, revealing a solid white pony face. “Uhm, can I help you?”
The marshmallow colored mare trotted out of the pile of sweets, the clatter of rocks heralding her exit from the sugary mountain of diabetes. The mare sent a spiral of magic out of her horn, trying to push Dead Beat off of her island. “Darling, you just need to leave. You are an eyesore on my beautiful home. I simply cannot stand such garishness upon my little abode. You just have to leave.”
Dead Beat pushed against the magic. “Well it’s either this or the chocolate milk puddle, so I’m gonna stay right here thank you.”
The unicorn doubled down on her magic. “Well if it’s either on this island with me or in the muck. I think you should go back to the muck to find other savages like yourself.”
Dead Beat felt dirt part as she was pushed back, and flicked her head side to side. As she did she tried to brace herself deeper into the ground to hold the line. It turns out, flicking ones head while coated in chocolate milk makes a rather large mess. Dead Beat felt the magic stop, causing her to recover with all the majesty and grace that falling flat on your face can allow. Which is to say, next to none. She rose her head and saw the unicorn wailing while running back behind the fortress of diabetes. She went between two marshmallows and found the most logical and sensible thing she’d seen all day. A stairwell. She sighed. “Of course, I’ll just go down the marshmallow staircase, and find myself inside Castle Von Stay Puft.” She wandered down the staircase, grand pillars flanking either side in what would have been a grand work of architecture. If the various torches allowing Dead Beat to see weren’t making roasted pillars drip onto the stairs in steaming pools. Dead Beat made sure to avoid the surprisingly dangerous hazard. She reached the bottom of the staircase and looked over the lone door. It was, of course, marshmallow. The odd part was the two statues flanking it. They were bipeds, made out of circular marshmallows. Dead Beat tried to keep her eyes on both of them as she opened the door. She was greeted with pure horror. The Biped statues were EVERYWHERE. They were in various poses, with the statues making an obvious path to a far door. She took a step forward and instantly felt a soft object knock her from her feet. She looked from her now prone position, looking in the direction of impact. A statue was there, posed as if it had just thrown something.
She stared at it as she rose to her feet. She moved slowly towards it, before poking it with a hoof. At the sounds of the bells stitched into her sleeve, a shrill whistle sounded through the hall. She flipped herself towards it and found discord in a navy button-up shirt and an orange vest. “Alright boys, it’s time for the race. This girl looks like she needs some new wheels!” Dead Beat stared as the statues began to move, drawing circular marshmallows from their bodies and taking careful aim. Dead Beat began to book it the door, not waiting to see what was about to happen until the impacting marshmallow slowed her pace. To a crawl as she tried to force past the fusillade of marshmallow projectiles.
She fell to a solid strike on her head and heard a muffled shout from behind her. “BONUS POINTS!” Dead Beat was blinded by the marshmallow now looped around her neck. Unable to see, she tried to continue her trek to the door, blindly flailing to get to the handle. Another marshmallow rolled onto her hat. The jingle of the bells heralded her sight going from, pure white marshmallow vision, to pure darkness. She felt the muted impact off fluffy death nipping her heels as she pushed on, before feeling the soft give of what she hoped was the door. With some blind grabbing, she managed to wrench open the door and fall through it. She laid down on the floor and let herself lay there a moment. She heard Discord speaking above her. “What’s the matter, didn’t enjoy the Michelin hall?”
Dead Beat threw off the marshmallow tires, which bounced away making a sound similar to whining dogs. “WHAT THE BUCK WAS THAT!”
Discord smiled and leaned back, summoning a lawn chair to bask in her impotent rage. “Oh come on now, those are an endangered species. THey’ve been falling out of style so long I had to adopt all those lost little children.”
Dead Beat stared in confusion. “Adopt them?”
Discord nodded with a lazy smile. “Of course, can’t have them all lost and confused in the void, plus they are so wonderfully chaotic, fighting giant monsters and fixing wagons, who came up with it?!” He jumped out of his chair with raised arms. “To be honest I wish I did.”
With that he disappeared, leaving Dead Beat’s path clear. She really wanted to ask more questions but saw this for the boon it was. Discord answering any question was a curse. Down the path of Discords reasoning lay naught but madness and nightmares. Normally combined in the most humorous method possible. Like a tentacle demon that sang opera while it played you like a violin. Off key.
Dead Beat took a moment to stretch, her wings flexing against the fabric of the jester suit. She frowned at that but shrugged. Maybe Discord thinking she was an Earth Pony would come in handy later. After taking a moment to flick off the worst of the marshmallow leftovers. Fine with her current state of cleanliness, she moved to the next door. Opening it, she saw a grand ballroom. Inside was the white unicorn, using a very soft towel to clean herself off. “Oh dear, that absolute brute got chocolate milk all over my perfect mane.”
Dead Beat paused as she looked over the mare. She was drop-dead gorgeous. The type of beautiful that inspired stallions to either heroism or madness. In the case of any heroes trying to stop Discord, it was almost certainly the latter. Dead Beat scanned the room. She paused over the glowing red exit sign. It led to a simple door of stone and steel, which clashed with the fluffy opulence that the Bastion of Tooth Decay seemed to be showing. She looked between it and the mare before shrugging. “I’m not gonna waste the time on this crazy mare.”
She began moving to the door before a soft sob came from the mare. “If only I knew where my wonderful Opal was. She knows just how to cheer her mama up.”
Dead Beat paused. She could easily just walk through the door, save her time and energy for the inevitable future issues that would come from helping this mare. But she was a hero. Heroes helped everypony. Including stuck up mares who try to kick them off the only land in a swamp. She walked up to the mare, hating herself for wasting time on this. “Hello, do you need any help?”
The mare turned and looked at Dead Beat like a particularly rancid bug that had landed on her plate. “Help, from you? Hah!” She scoffed and waved a hoof at her. “The only one that can help me is a true hero. One who would tell me where my dear Opal went.”
Dead Beat sighed. This had the chance to be her whole day, didn’t it? “And what, exactly, is this Opal?”
The mare made an exaggerated gasp. “You don’t know Opal, she’s the most impressive cat to ever grace out the fair kingdom! Why her regal stance, her majestic fur. If housecats had a kingdom she would be the queen!”
Dead Beat paused. That sounded suspiciously like the cat that got hyped up by her bells and the blatant murder of gummy worms. “Uhm, yeah. I’ve seen her, one second.” Scootaloo reached up to a bell on her outfit. After a moment of struggle, she pulled off a bell, only to have another grow in its place. She sighed at her inability to stop the cursed jingles. “She liked these bells, just ring it outside and she should come running.”
The mare paused. “Really? And you're just going to give it to me?” Dead Beat nodded dumbly. It wasn’t like she was giving a priceless jewel or anything. Rarity smiled wide and wrapped Dead Beat in a hug, ignoring the detritus that had accumulated from her floor. “Oh dear, you are simply too kind.”
Dead Beat shrugged. “It’s nothing. Ponies help ponies and all that jazz. If we don’t, then we’ll just be doing what Discord wants.”
The white pony shook her head. “Well, either way, I simply must go find Opal. But know this.” She raised a lone white hoof. “If you ever need a hand, Rarity Belle will be there to help.”
Dead Beat nodded, but before a response could form, a bright flash blinded her. As she blinked away the blindness she realized she was now alone. Rarity was gone, and in her place was a bag with a necklace in it. Dead Beat walked up, before shrugging. “Well, I guess this is her help.” She pulled the bag over her flanks and made her way to the door. After all, this was just the first floor.
Dead Beat made her way through the Iron doors of the marshmallow kingdom. She couldn't say she would miss the castle of candy, but it did worry her that the next door was iron. She had read books that had torture in them, and steel in a fluffy castle put her on edge. Or maybe it was the steel cliff-face she had just stepped over without thinking. With a squack she lost balance and fell, splashing down in a large vat of apple cider. She floated in it for a moment. This was, surprisingly, not the worst thing she had fallen into today. Hay, this wasn't the worst thing she had fallen into in the past hour. She took a small sip, only to spit it out. "Blech, this tastes awful!"
As if to spite her statement, an intercom blared out. "Now, y'all keep up the good work! We gotta get more of this Sweet Apple Acres Cider out for those thirsty ponies out there."
Scootaloo looked at the vat of absolutely awful Cider "Yeah, I'm sure ponies are dying to drink this swill." She swam to the edge of the vat and climbed into an industrial hell. Surrounding her were conveyor belts, making a criss-cross maze of spray nozzles, moving cans, and in the corner, a small office. Dead Beat zeroed in on that. Obviously, if she were an exit, that's where she'd be. She looked for any path through and paused at a conveyer belt in front of her. It didn't lead directly to the office, but it got her closer. That was good enough for the moment. She jumped on, pulling herself onto the belt as it snaked its way down. It railed against a wall, which gave Dead Beat a chance to look over the area from a better angle from her new perch, and tried to find a better route.
She saw another conveyer below her, where cans shot onto it before getting dropped into a massive crate. However, the crate was directly beside an open window into the office corner. So all she had to do was ride this conveyer until it reached the other one, and it'd be smooth sailing into the office and hopefully down into the next floor.
This revelation would have been sweeter if it wasn't for the fact that she was hit with a blast af cold cider that nearly threw her off her conveyer. She managed to weather the storm of cider by adopting the heroic pose used by such famous heroes as Scooby-Doo and rolled up in a little ball on the belt. While screaming. Honestly, it was a very heroic scream. Deep, guttural, a real Conan-esque thing. She would fight anyone who said otherwise. Judging from the laughs echoing through the chamber, Discord had heard her. So she amended the list. After today she would fight, almost anyone who said otherwise. She really didn't want to get locked in another dungeon.
When the jet of cider passed behind her she decided now would be a good time to actually check the conveyer she was on. You know, for anything like traps, or cider cannons. Or, in the case that she found herself in, a large number of cider nozzles spraying randomly across the belt like a drunk earth-ponies firework display. Her orange coat went a few shades paler. "Oh, Buck."
Before the rise of Discord, there was a book titled 'A Treatise On The Impossibility Of Pony Physioligy In Times Of Great Stress, Vol. 2'. Now this book was a dry read. Perhaps even drier than most math textbooks. However, it did cover one of those hidden facts of life that most ponies take for granted. When any pony is in a time of great stress, all natural laws go out the window. Dead Beat managed to live up to his hypothesis as the conveyer's inexorable march to her next jumping point. While ducking and diving through the nozzles spraying cider that would jet her to an inevitably messy end, she managed at least three poses that would end up with her spine shattered and one in which an average onlooker would believe her hoof had coiled all the way around her own barrel.
After the third nozzle, her luck ran out, with a spray managing to catch her tail. While this spray did not knock her to an inevitable fall into some unfortunate fate, ti did succeed in ruining her next dodge. Her momentum suddenly shifted. Instead of diving forward she began to spin, and the liquid coating the conveyer belt kept her hooves from gaining purchase. She let out a scream as she shot down the conveyor, rolling like a pinball as showers of cider and whirring machinery heralded her quickening journey to the end of the line. Until a buzzer sounded, and something slammed into Dead Beat's side. Her body jolted once in the opposite direction as she lost her only sense of direction. The ground flew out from under her, and suddenly she was airborne. her spin slowed as she tried to find her bearings.
Unfortunately, as soon as she could look again she fell onto another conveyor. The harsh landing on the rubber managed to ring her bell, and she simply laid still for a moment. After her breathing finally caught up she tried to sum up her current situation. "Ow," It was a very accurate statement.
She rose unsteadily and managed a smile to learn that she was on the belt she had been aiming for earlier. A glance upwards showed Discord laughing, and a large paddle floated beside him. "Horseapples." She shook it off as she looked down the belt. Cans were dropping onto the belt from various areas, which means that the slow, methodical approach would be smarter. Unfortunately, she had underestimated just how far the jump from the belt to the office window was. She was sure she could still make it, as long as she got a running start. However, that meant that she would have to run down the belt, dodge all the cans, and then jump through the window like a majestic cat. While covered in cider and limping from being thrown across the factory floor. In other words a perfect plan.
Dead Beat took a few steps back, before nodding once to herself. "Well, no time like the present, right?" She lowered herself before breaking out into a sprint. The shower of full cider cans were pelting her sides as she rushed through the belt. She reached the end of the line and jumped for all she was worth, feeling her wings strain against the fabric of her jester suit. One final can gave a parting shot directly into her flank, turning a beautifully executed jump into an office, into a head over heels fall that had her slowly land onto her rump after nearly landing on her head.
When she finally landed she was sitting in front of an orange mare who was looking at her with a rather unamused expression. "Well now, y'all ain't one o' my workers."
Dead Beat rubbed the back of her head with an embarrassed grin. "Uh, no. I am in fact, nopony's worker." She tried to stand up tall. "I'm a hero! Here to stop Discords reign of terror once and for all!"
The mare looked at her with a deadpan gaze. "And y'all are planning to do that by trespassing in my factory?"
Dead Beat paused, trying to come up with an answer that sounded halfway decent. "Well, he uh... kinda sent me here." Needless to say, she failed horribly. She perked up again. "But if I find my way through all his stupid tests I'll beat him for sure."
The mare simply raised an eyebrow. "Well ain't that sweet either way y'all need to find someplace to do it outside o' mah factory. Ah gotta get the ponies all that Sweet Apple Acres cider that they want."
Dead Beat looked at the mare, then at the factory filled with the cider. Well, cider might have been too kind a term. Swill was more accurate, the most accurate term was something that Dead Beats mother would disapprove of. Wherever she was. "So wait, ponies pay to drink that?"
The mare glared down at Dead Beat for a moment, before scoffing. "Course they do." She chewed her lip for a moment. "And don't go sayin' it's been tasting worse since I got this factory from Discord. Mah families cider is always the best!"
Dead Beat stuck out her tongue. "Look, lady, I don't know where you were taught to make cider, but if your families cider tastes like that crap I had to drink while I ran through your factory, then they taught you how to make horseapples!"
The mare looked taken aback, before leaning forward over her desk. "Now y'all can't come into my factory, and start spoutin' a bunch'a hooey like that!"
Dead Beat stood up tall. "Well, if it's a bunch of hooey, then why do I still want to chug marsh milk just to wash the taste of that horror drink out of my mouth?"
The mare stared at her hard. "Well, if'n that's how ya feel how abouts it, then how about you an' me take a little wager?"
Dead Beat stared at her, her own pride not allowing her to back down from such an obvious challenge. "You're on! What type of wager?"
The mare smiled wide. "If'n my cider's so bad, then we'll have a drink off, first one to finish a full can wins. If'n ah can't stomach my own brew, well ah 'reckon you're right."
Dead Beat nodded. "I can down a glass of your rotten cider and prove to you that your cider tastes like flank!"
The mare smirked, reaching under her desk and pulling out two cans. While they both looked normal, one was in a different color. Dead Beat looked at them while the mare put one of the cans in front of her.
Dead Beat stared at it as the mare shifted her eyes away. "Are you sure that these drinks are the same?"
The mare jumped up, planting her forehooves on the desk. "Are y'all calling me a liar!"
Dead Beat shrunk back, before remembering she was supposed to be a staunch hero. "Well if you aren't, then you wouldn't mind switching drinks with me. Surely you wouldn't try to pass off the bad cider on me in a fair competition?"
The mare shifted her eyes back an forth, before slowly swapping the drinks. "Yeah, what with all of the cider's being exactly the same it wouldn't be a problem at all."
Dead Beat nodded and grabbed the can with an easy smile. "Alright then, tell me when."
The orange mare glanced at her drink and took a readying gulp. "A-alright 3... 2... 1... GO!"
Scootaloo slammed the can back, fully expecting the taste of swill she got the first time. Instead, it was a wonderful cider. Cider that made her think of the few times a pony could actually make a meal without Discord changing ingredients randomly. She gulped it down greedily, happy to enjoy something delicious.
She dropped the empty can a moment later, looking to the orange mare with a raised eyebrow. The mare was gagging, a half-empty can spilled over her desk. Dead Beat smirked. "Ponies need that cider, huh?"
The mare coughed a few times, before sighing. "Well they did, but ah can't make the good stuff fast enough. So I make what Ah can, ain't nothing wrong with that."
Dead Beat looked around the office while talking to the mare. "Well I'm no huge judge, but it's gonna wreck your family name if you just make crap with it all over. Kinda ruins the family image right?"
The mare became enraged, bucking the desk away from herself and advancing on Dead Beat. "Why ah oughta!" But with each step she slowed. "Ah oughta... oughta listen to ya." The mare stopped and looked at Dead Beat. "Even if y'all are being a right pain yer speaken the truth. Like I oughta do. I reckon your being smarter than I was." The mare seemed to stand a bit taller. "And if yer gonna stand up to that varmint Discord ah should help. Now yah didn't hear it from me, but that door outta my office leads to a stairwell. That should let you mosey on."
Dead Beat smiled at the mare. Who knew helping ponies could make her so happy. Or maybe it was the cider. "Thanks, I'll call if I need a hand."
The mare seemed about to respond, but instead a bright white flash blinded Dead Beat. The mare was gone, and in her place was a necklace with three apples in the center. Dead Beat sighed and slipped the necklace into her Saddlebags."I swear if this is Discords idea of Jewelry shopping I'm gonna buck him so hard he'll turn normal."