Author's Note

Ah, you've made to chapter ten of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds that this chapter will deal with another heavy subject matter proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; unfortunately, this won't come with another chapter you can be able skip to yet.

Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to take the time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now very close to the end of the story; somehow, the new year had still provided us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that is the now: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough.

However, let me just also say that, with many thanks aside, I hope you can be able to stomach this chapter now even more than the others before it and still have the strength to continue onward in staying tuned though the passing times; nevertheless, I want to apologize for letting this chapter go on longer than I had expected: it seems that chapter two's reputation for being the longest has been officially dethroned.

Shade

The skies were darkened about with the moon and stars completely obscured by a large squall line of clouds all thick like butterscotch pudding. Traveling across the log horizon of the dull firmament were brief flashes of electricity slithering about like venomous snakes of the distant pasts. A roll of thunder quickly was crackling the sound barrier as downpour touched the solid earth underneath, conducting onward without a care. The topsoil and a few floras upon themselves were already moistened by the pitter–patter of such minute droplets being pulled down by the gravity. To say that the loneliness was currently filling the dead air served as an understatement even if a single grain of truth had been planted previously.

The woodwind sounds of whistling cut on through the cold nocturnal air as it was followed by the constant percussion of steel parts in rapid succession. Within the distance, an enharmonic orchestra already came in the form of a slender yet rustic locomotive locked in a continuously circular movement. Rapidly yet carefully, the synchronicity of melody was currently on repeat with the very grinding of metal accompanying the whooshing of smoke clouds. Standing nearby were another set of tracks empty unlike the road being taken with a series of lights and billboards litter about infrequently so to speak. A couple cars which were in the process of being pulled alongside by the engine lit up brightly, albeit dimmed compared to the saturated landscape itself.

The many coaches coasting throughout in motion had some insides more elaborate and dry, not to mention the fact there was life already stirring about. The ceilings were a brownish gold, illuminated by a series of lanterns nearby with furnishings elaborately telling many stories of past cures all in teal. The walls closing in where the windows took refuge were of a brighter color so to speak, bearing the qualities of flashy lightning while remaining static. Underneath it were an abundance of the brilliant green in a cluster of swirls in every possible shade for the observant to even acknowledge and the like. Seating was of no consequence for the inhabitants within the car, although the lack of density therein was making whatever the tranquility unsettling.

Of the few in attendance, one passenger was seated next to the windowsill itself, looking at the mobile storm and the static scenery beneath it all. He was just a simple man of a lower stature, certainly evident by the booster below propping him right up to see lower corners of the looking glass. The lowly occupant wore a conical sedge hat overhead but it did little to keep the strands of ginger hair at bay, not that it was of any concern. Such a complexion he wore was framed in shadow, obscuring much of the wearer’s face save for a camouflaged bead of sweat trailing downward. Upon the inhabitant’s body was merely some simple attire: an orange neckerchief, a green vest, and some blue pants were found to be instantaneous. Kinesthesia was almost nonexistent as with many of the passengers already discovered taking refuge away from the rain and thunder currently. All that was within his line of sight were a plate of dishes and a glass of some transparent green liquid presently and accounted for on the table.

“Goddamn, I can’t believe that I had allowed myself to eat this much; I’m worse than all the fish in the sea…!” the little guy groaned painfully as he’d struggled to lift up his beverage with a single hand.

In spite of the stress he was feeling he could now taste was remained: to him, it'd brought forth a soothing image reminiscent of a koala bear licking leaves; of course, the scarcity reminded the consumer all too well.

As soon as he was done, a lone shadow appeared from abaft the little guy slowly, prompting him to turn around and make contact: a singular woman. She was of a darker complexion compared to him, not to mention taller too with her hair long and blue like oceans and skies holding the world in. The woman was also wearing clothes, albeit with uniformity enforced: a jet black ensemble of a hat, blouse, skirt, and boots were worn straightaway. Even more apparent were a cluster of freckles bringing attention to the silver eyes shining bright even as the owner had remained stoic nevertheless.

Almost immediately, the woman in uniform informed the little guy of the situation at hand, “excuse me, just to let you know, we’re going to be making a stopover at the mountainside shortly; I hope that’s okay with you, being that it’s going to be a fifteen minute before we get back on schedule.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m doing just fine by myself although I wished I could’ve taken it easy with the food that I’ve ordered: those sponge fingers and fish soup ain’t coming to terms with each other yet…” he'd groaned, feeling his stomach popping fresh with percussion; in addition, parts of the visage became green in seconds, “where can I find the bathroom…?”

“It’s two coaches away from the caboose behind you, sir…” she’d quickly answered, guiding the stout passenger with her hand.

He jumped down from his seat and began scurrying off after saying, “thanks…!”

The fact that the little guy was on the move was of no surprise or concern as he was swelling about with nausea; after all, there weren’t that many people so to speak. A lonely left hand was held up in front of his mouth as time was winding down on him like gravity taking hold and increasing its force ever so slightly immediately. Under no circumstances was the little guy going to leave everything to chance; such forbidden subjects were ineffable for a reason: no one had any patience for them.

Heeding the attendant’s words, he’d found a nearby door and latched onto it, opening to find what was on his very mind almost instantaneously. Unlike the carriages the little guy was in, there were no luxuries of any kind thereof whatsoever: windowsills, chairs, and tables already nonexistent. As a matter of fact, the reason for it was plain to see, especially for him: the spacing was capable of occupying one whole individual, nothing more. With only the sink and toilet all in close range, the overall walking distance between themselves and beyond were inconsequential in the very least. Even the environment itself was rather different: steely like a dan but less rigid; additionally, the cleanliness was way up to code with pleasantries. In the grand scheme of things, especially in the little guy’s mindset, the only task at hand was simple to a fault so the margin of error was small.

Needless to say, he saw that the many shades of gray as well as the lights shining about were swirling about to no end in sight, circular like wheels but lacking in direction whatsoever. In spite of the changing courses, the little guy still maintained control and sure enough, a chunky salsa splattered about into the metallic bowl where the water had resided to absorb all of it.

Coughing about, he’d stumbled out of the latrine, catching the attention of a wayward stranger nearby as some words went into his ears at once, “hello, sir, sorry to trouble you at this moment but can I have a moment of your time please…?”

“Huh…?” the little guy had stammered on slightly, “what’s this about…?”

“It’s nothing much, it’s just that I’ve been in the pursuit of a master thief who I have reason to believe is on this train: he goes by the name of Wolfgang the Cliffhanger and has been wanted for a series of crimes throughout the globe; I’ve been tracking him down for years and so have many others…” a gruff voice had replied to him.

It wasn’t long until the little guy looked over to find a towering man standing before the former: the latter barely needed any introduction besides what had been said not too long ago. Only the lanky figure’s attire rivaled in simplicity as well: a vermilion trenchcoat draping over the brown suit with a purple tie laid out over the white shirt and a brown hat and boots. That being said, the speaker’s hair was certainly presently, especially in the form of some jet black sideboards directly over his suntanned integuments far away from his cleft chin. Already within the towering man’s conjunctivas were thin pinpricks barely devoid of color save for some chocolate, framed by the sternness of the cold flame already held backward.

The smaller counterpart only had enough strength within himself to ask the lanky figure slowly, “who the… hay sandwich… are you… and what does… this have… to do with me?!”

“I’m Inspector Joe Monie of the C4: it’s short for the Cosmopolitan Crimefighting Constabulary Commission…” the speaker introduced himself, pulling out a small flat case to unfurl a goldenrod badge which had resided within, “I’m here because you were able to recently acquire the localization rights to one of his former lover’s film, ‘Zombies in Aquanos’. According to some fans of her work, the changes you’ve made recently were enough to arouse controversy, prompting him to sabotage to premise before it even starts: it seems that the editing crew has managed to figure out who the deuterogamist is based on due to your theories.”

“How is he going to do that and why would he give a damn about the flick at all?!” the passenger exclaimed with a grimace as he composed himself.

The taller individual was unfazed as he’d answered back, “simple, he’s a master of deception, capable of disguising himself as anyone of his choice with a crew of three other partners in crime: Diddy Jeff, with his deadly sharpshooting skills; Rosalie Margo, the beautiful and illusive rip–off artist; and Chet Jaxen, a specialist in mixed martial arts and sword fighting.”

“Sounds like they’re a whole mess of trouble, especially that swordfighter: my kind has a word for his people – sibun…!” the little guy snarled upon hearing the last of these names being uttered, “let’s hope I never see that fucking twat…!”

“Don’t be too sure about it: I was able to pick up one of Wolfgang’s calling card before boarding the train earlier; you might wanna have a read at this…” Joe said to the passenger, handing over a red card.

The little guy flipped it around to find some words and read aloud:

“Krill,

your hodgepodge of cinematography will not make it on time as scheduled…

– Wolfgang”

“Y’see what I mean; where did you keep the roll of film?” the towering inspector inquired as the aforementioned passenger tossed it aside, “it’s imperative the case must be protected until the premiere…”

“Don’t worry about it, I was able to make some copies before the news came out: even left behind my own logo just in case someone tried to steal from me and pass off their shit as one of their own; kinda ironic how some accused me of plagiarism and the like…” Krill yawned as he started to turn away from Joe immediately.

This singular act alone had caused Joe to speak up at once, “where you going; don’t you see how serious this is: Wolfgang is going after your stuff and you’re just going to walk away like it’s nothing?!”

“There are times when I'd fought to the bitter end over anything that ended up in my possession but I’m too sick and tired to carry on: dinner was no friend of mine as you had seen earlier…” the pint–sized passenger palavered onward as he perambulated away from the inspector at once, “anyways, you do what you can do best; I’m going to bed…”

“Aren’t you even worried about him sabotaging the whole premiere?!” Joe exclaimed, raising his voice.

Krill didn’t care in the slightest and replied, “I’m way ahead of him than he’s able to know of so to speak; I’ll see you later…”

“Damn it all… he has no idea of what danger this sneaky bastard is capable of: Wolfgang’s been stealing and stealing all throughout his life ever since I’d laid eyes on that thief; even the more state–of–the–art security measures didn’t deter him!” the inspector cerebrated silently, “Krill, on the other hand, is either some kind of a crazy son–of–a–bitch or the dumbest one I’ve ever met!”

It wasn’t long until the pint–sized passenger came across another door, opened up to find a small bedroom onboard the locomotive in the darkness. Only the luxuries of a windowsill and furniture were found to be in close range, cleaner than a wolf–whistle and chaste than a catcall so to speak. The fact that they were devoid of the refuse cast off by the inhabitants was proof that neatness was the norm, emphasized by the ligneous form. All in all, the scenery beyond itself became picaresque despite the shine in the storm still taking place, helped by the growing abundance of trees.

“Well, here’s to a goodnight’s sleep on them, the Friendship Express; Rosemound, here we come…!” Krill yawned before jumping into bed, the deluge still beating against the glass as he’d remained unperturbed by them; before doing so, the sandals were discarded and its owner was wrapped within the comforter, currently seeing darkness and the like as a result of the weariness.

Time had passed on through space alongside with the inhabitants whom were drifting aimlessly as the stars amongst the never–ending blackness that had floated on, each of them to prompt any wayward traveler to harken back to the memories of life when the richest beverage kept their spirits up until their next destination and from the mouth of madness. Of course, time itself was the only thing that remained constant in the ever–changing plane of existence where many variables had come in all shapes and sizes, coexisting alongside either in unions or divisions thereof as they transcended boundaries without incident to say the very least; then again, almost all of them succumbed to the fold sooner or later. This interval, however, would prove to be a special case since that there were those who have found themselves still standing rather than stumbling and falling to the depths of their failures nevertheless; however, not all of them were doing so as the whole wide world turned on its own axis: out of many of those in question, there was indeed only one.

Out of the jet black void was a loud gasp emitting from within, creating an anomaly that had given it some semblance of life whatsoever: a silent voice being nothing more than ragged panting in between intervals. With little warning thereof, there was a brief shuffling about instantaneously, making contact with the small dimensional boundaries already surrounded throughout the passing time, intermixed with the creaking. Long after, the fabric was found brushed up against itself within the darkness, the texture being a whole different story even as the walls closed in on the lone owner’s minimalistic movements with brief clicks all too soon. Surely and faintly, a small snort or two notwithstanding, the oxygen itself had gotten sucked into all the nostrils gently as the nearly silent voice now doubled in a couple of seconds thanks to the choking respiration initially.

Just as the shuffling about was continuing onward, some loud whistling was heard followed by an announcer, “attention all passengers, we’ll now be approaching Appleloosa in a few minutes time: if this is your stop, then we ask you check your belongings and hope you have a safe night; either way, thank you for choosing Friendship Express, the homeland’s finest in rail transit…”

“Hah… motherfucker of all dreams here: found myself accused of plagiarism by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks; glad that’s over…!” Krill, one out of the many denizens, panted as he’d awoken from his slumber, sweating about with a smidgen of scarlet strewn about, “I gotta get some water to cooldown; the heat is roasting me alive…”

Before the pint–sized passenger got up from the bedside, he’d found himself staring at the night and fog through the looking glass with the precipitation and condensation congregating about. To say that he was unable to see beyond the windowpane unlike earlier was and understatement; as a matter of fact, as soon as he’d laid his hand upon the surface, the iciness almost seized it. Under no circumstances whatsoever did Krill ever even dared to try again, despite the already fluid perspiration clinging onto his integuments and clothing to no end in sight so to speak of.

“Now arriving at Appleloosa, please make sure to be aware of your surroundings: the railway is not responsible for the damage or disappearance of personal private property of any kind whatsoever; in the event of injury or death occurring onboard, the train will make the nearest stop and emergency services will be notified as soon as possible…” the voice from earlier blared.

At that particular moment, the pint–sized passenger took note of the announcement as soon as movement had ceased, lights within the train still up and running, though a few of them flickered about; this made him jump a bit yet he’d maintained his composure and said to himself silently, “I thought that they’d updated the fixtures and the like; still must be undergoing renovations. No matter: just a few more hours to go until I reach the end of the line; after that, smooth sailing from here – no press, no stress, no mess to compress…”

“Excuse sir, can I have a moment of your time please…?” a familiar voice reached his ears: it was the woman in uniform from earlier holding a black cone attached to a speaker with numerals by a matching hose, “there seems to be a woman on the telephone calling for your name…”

“Who is she; why is she calling me and from where…?” Krill stuttered, barely registering the small details therein.

The attendant onboard didn’t flinch as she’d replied, “couldn’t say although judging from her tone, it’s urgent…”

“Alright, I’ll try and set the record straight with her; must be a crazed fan…” the pint–sized passenger groaned as he’d obtained control over the new device given to him, “who is this…?”

“Ya have some nerve making trouble with the wrong family, ya offshore punk…!” another feminine voice invaded his ear with an eerie hiss, catching the listener off–guard without any warning.

Shutting both eyelids before reopening them up once more with feelings of annoyance, Krill muttered about, “who is this and what’s going on: why are you calling me at this hour; matter of fact, how did you get this number?!”

“Our little apple bushel has some family that didn’t like what ya did earlier, know what Ah am saying?!” the speaker snarled again, maintaining her ground without some form of hesitation whatsoever, “ya no better than those miscreants who took away two of mah granddaughters’ hopes and dreams, leaving behind despair and nightmares in their place. Even mah grandson had tasted death twice, which says something compared t’ much of mah family; speaking of which, Ah don’t have much time going in details as t’ who else suffered after what was done t’ me so Ah will focus on the others: Auntie Applesauce, Barbarella Seed, Apple Rose, Apple Strudel, and don’t get me started with mah own pride and joy of the family!”

“With all due respect, lady, I don’t any of these people whatsoever so don’t go hanging their deaths onto me; that being said, I’m sorry about your losses but you don’t hear me yawping about my dead parents…!” the listener barked.

Following the tirade, the caller said to him in return, “oh, ya’ll be more than sorry when they’re done with ya; Ah may have perished long before these confangled modern doohickeys started taking over the world by storm but at least Ah can deliver ya one simple warning: make peace or pay the consequences…!”

“Pay the consequences… what the fuck does that mean; just who the fuck you think you are to say such things?!” Krill screeched indignantly, “what is your name and number; where do you live?!”

“Ya’ll know soon enough; after all, yer in Appleloosa, the Apple family’s territory… goodbye, Krill…” the voice on the other end growled before cackling uproariously at a higher decibel, prompting the eponymous speaker to edge away from the cone; afterwards, all that he could hear was ringing in his ears overtaking the rest of the noise around himself almost instantaneously.

Consequentially, he’d jabbed two fingers deep into his ears and started uttering the colors loudly, flexing his jaws in the process, “red… orange… gold… green… teal… blue… plum… red…! Red… plum… blue… teal… green… gold… orange… red…!”

“Bravo… bravo…!” a lonely voice cheered on with some clapping, not that Krill was able to hear it until both canals were freed once again to let the air come and go as they pleased; however, it wasn’t something he took joy in as the highly pitched droning still remained, albeit at a lower volume so he can hear the background, “you’d have made a nice crooner back then…!”

“What…?” the pint–sized passenger stuttered.

It didn’t take long for him to be greeted by another man of a similar height and build to Joe; the only differences were the most brilliant of skin tones and some musculature upon the former too.

Even the observer’s attire balanced between both Krill and the uniformed woman, to the point of donning a more flat hat; he also wore a yellow shirt, brown vest, boots, gloves, and black pants. Unlike the inspector from earlier, the towering man a full set of colorful hair, every strand of it was radiating with some brilliant red as a majority had barely ran past the nape of the neckline. Additionally, the observer’s eyes were more in line with that of the attendant in question, albeit more along the lines of a moderate harlequin as they stared into the pint–sized passenger at once. Only things found firmly upon the towering redhead’s visage were but only a cluster of freckles bridging the gap over his nose and a winning smile with its glow letters away from glowering.

Either way, the observer held out a silver coin in his left hand and inquired, “you don’t look like you’re around here, are you…?”

“And who must you be: another one of the locals…?” Krill spat back despite holding in his emotions a bit, “I bet you’re one of his fans here to steal the film; well, joke’s on you: I’ve made copies beforehand…!”

“Relax, I don’t even know what exactly you’re talking about, little boy; besides, I’m not here about the talking pictures, just what to know: what would you do if you found a book with some money in it, like say, ten bits or so…?” the redhead had chuckled, putting the ginger at ease so to speak.

Krill couldn’t help himself but to sweat as he replied, “that’s a trick question; no one would be that stupid to leave that much money behind…!”

“True but hear me out on this one: what if I was a marshal who saw you take the money and run; what would you do then?” the tall man laughed after asking, finding the strength to stop himself, “I mean you could buy an awful bunch of things with that amount: get a stylist, a train ticket to the BECC, a shiny new bell, some food, even some advice…”

“THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY ONE COULD CHARGE FOR THIS MUCH…!” the pint–sized passenger uttered around rambunctiously in a shrill tone.

The redhead remained silent to Krill’s outburst and said, “not unless you’re from the other side of the sea, of course; they charge for everything there…! As a matter of fact, compared to getting caught by a sheriff, you would probably get beaten within an inch of your life by the local for petty theft. Speaking of which, we folks up north tend to get a lot of visitors coming and going; in addition, my mother was the founding matriarch that built this town on hard work and determination. She’d once said that if you were notice every single thing that goes on nearby certain apple trees, then it’s a sure sign that you can find a Zap Apple ready to grow; they’re not like your ordinary apples: they have rainbows on them.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t get what you’re saying here; who exactly are you and why are you telling me this…?” the ginger wheezed as he’d looked up at his towering counterpart directly right in the eyes, “do you always say that to people that come your way…?”

“Sweet Apple Acres was found to have changed greatly after what had happened recently; it’s a rather serious matter since townsfolk are mighty hesitant to stay here any longer so I’m trying to piece things together: even I didn’t know what was going on despite having lived here all of the sudden…” the redhead spoke back in turn, this time with a stern demeanor in his tone.

Krill stood his ground and asked, “are you the law around these parts, sir…?”

The towering man hardened his gaze and replied, “absolutely not… Y’see Sweet Apple Acres was no simple farm – it was my home; I’m struggling to come up with even one reason why it must have gone away so easily. We had some stiff competition since when I was just a baby yet even we kept it under control, unlike some folk of course; of course, that’s not how she sees it: she feels like her family’s name had been personally tarnished since the day some men came to town. And this is where I come in to ask you something: did you happen to run into my family’s farm some time ago…?”

“Barely, though I don’t seem to understand what you’re talking about; this place is a cemetery now: bunches of people died in the war were buried here…” the ginger gulped gratuitously “young’uns, old people: matter of fact, one of my classmates Swain was buried here along another’s wife and brother–in–law; some kids of his have been coming here since that day.”

“Alright then, I believe you: there’s no strand of lying inside you, despite the sweat and gulping you’ve been making; of course, my daughters wouldn’t have said the same thing though, especially after what had happened to her…” the redhead sighed, relinquishing his target from the gripping stare before walking away without a care in the same tone from not too long ago.

Krill felt a wave of relief overwhelming him as he’d started wiping away the sweat at once, calmly cerebrating about, “whoo, I’m glad that’s over; I’m not even sure what the fuss was about but the Sweet Apple shit caught me off–guard: I heard about the shit that went down but I never the old windbag had a son, let alone one that was a father of one of my classmate’s friends.”

“By the way, I think I’d caught a whiff of something fierce in the cargo bay: I think it belongs to you; please check it out…” the towering traveler’s voice had drawled on from afar, “boy howdy, that scent is worse than some rotten peaches on a hot summer’s day and that’s saying something…!”

“What the fuck is he talking about?!” the ginger winced as he ran in the opposite direction of the redhead’s perambulation almost instantaneously.

Krill moved like the wind despite being barefoot onboard, running past the few occupants nearby whom were either loading or unloading so to speak. In a matter of minutes, a black door was in view only to be opened immediately, finding all sorts of baggage in every shape and size possible in sight. Of the many laid about, one particular item caught the viewer’s eye: a tiny steely container was next to a big stone box tainted with the sight of red. Not only that, the aroma that entered into his nostrils was devoid of the fresh atmosphere but was musty and grueling, turning his face imperial green.

Krill held in his disgust and reached over to the item, only to find something much worse than he’d expected: flat like a flaccid pancake, it was a face contorted in despair and agony, soaked with only blood and wastes; before he’d inform the others of the shocking discovery thereof, something beaten him to the punch at once, “that’s my daughter’s afterbirth, not that it matters.”

“What the – SOMEBODY HELP–––” the lowly ginger tried to scream as strips of white paper grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back, making contact with a pair of lips with a tongue sticking outward; they had belonged to some much worse entity, “ackkk…!”

“Ugh, this taste is of a rotten lowdown dirty shameful liar…!” Krill’s assailant hacked out before throwing him against the stone from earlier.

When the ginger victim came to, he was greeted to the sight of another one like him, except that it was a woman without a uniform thereof. Additionally, she’d shared so much in common with the redhead in terms of complexion but they were burning bright enough to blind him. Standing about, her hair was trailing abaft before stopping at the waistline, its curls held in place with some elastics dabbed with turquoise. Plainly put, the attacker wore white strips over her curvaceous form, each of them hugging the skin tightly as they had provided modesty. In her eyes were nothing but toxic contempt directed at Krill as he was already within her line of sight by mere inches of walking distance. Snugly firmly around the assailant’s forehead was but a goldenrod diadem with its rims barely touching the wearer’s flopping ears therein. Hereon in the victim’s view were much of her skin exposed, especially the umbilicus even though she wasn’t even in the altogether.

Krill was so awestruck by his attacker’s appearance, air, and actions altogether, he’d struggled to speak, “who… who… who are you?!”

“Well, well, well, well, well, what do we have here…?” she susurrated at her target, sauntering off slowly but steadily, “my husband, Bright Mac was done asking the questions but it seems that the situation has changed; as far as I’ve learned, you told him a lie and now, I’m going to have to find out why, am I?! He calls me Buttercup, but you can call me Pear Butter, the real Pear Butter, not that side of flitch that been ripping off of me all this time…”

“What…?” the lowly victim coughed out.

His assailant grabbed him by the left hand and pulled him up hard until they’d met eye–to–eye literally in due time, the former snorted about, “answer me, your questioning has already turned into torture; we’re going to have a little talk: maybe a long talk or a short one, but we’re a talking. You’re supposed to be the big man around town but all that I can see is a little marshmallow who played with fire one too many times and is about to get burned if you don’t tell me what I need to hear; besides, I heard that in one culture overseas, if you lie, then your tongue gets cut out: of course, you would probably bleed to death from blood loss and sepsis. Anyways, let’s have a go at it; otherwise, it’s only going to get worse from here: first off, you came across a sheet of music called ‘Days Gone By’, haven’t you…?”

“I–I–I–” Krill initially struggled about before answering, “YES, I DID: I FOUND IT OFF IN SOME WRECKAGE NEARBY SOME FARM!”

“You don’t seem to do much right by yourself, don’t you: did a good job scaring you; must be the most yellow–bellied git in the whole wide world…?” Buttercup laughed before tossing the pint–sized passenger aside like yesterday’s garbage.

He was now crying like a baby from the ordeal, “please, why are you doing this; what did I ever did to you?!”

“It’s not what you did to me that was the problem; it’s what you did to my family: that music was dedicated to a family I left behind for a man that I’d loved…” the bandaged woman snapped back at her victim with icy rage, walking towards the latter without a care, “of course, what would you ever care about family?! You do nothing but steal, cheat, and lie your way to the top of the class just because you’re fresh of the boat like some tourist with the utter gall to even hope to coast through life doing little as possible while my kind has placed our home firmly on the world map!”

“That’s not true; THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE…!” Krill wailed.

She kicked the man in the stomach and spat, “growing up, we fair Pears had been tilling the soil from sunup to sundown alongside our supposed rivals, the Apples next door; even then, they never stole from us, killed, or destroy wantonly. Despite being equals, it seems that all throughout my life, I had been taught that they were rotten to the core for reasons I can’t comprehend since I was a baby. What an amazing lie that was: the Apples were just like me and my family, right down to the very bone; even the fruits we grew had tasted the same. It’s just a shame though, even without our love, I had grown up to see how stupid we were acting: the people would care less about which of us was better and while the town didn’t hate us, they couldn’t find the strength to love us back either or so it seems. What’s even more shameful is the fact that now there’s an era of fear and loathing in the world: people are out there selling their bodies on the street for a roof over their heads, poisons are being pushed out in place of food they would have eaten with friends and family, and more fights are breaking out faster than acne itself. And then there’s you, here on the anniversary of Princess Celestia’s solitary rule coasting about through life like nothing you do is wrong yet the only time you get it right is for the sake of getting famous: was stealing my song worth it…?”

“Well, to be fair, the song that you wrote struck a chord with me because it too reminded me of home and you’re right about me being fresh off the boat…” he had coughed out with some blood in the fray while attempted to get up, “usually, the people I got into fights with harassed me about how I talk, look, and eat; this song helped me through bad times because it was our only pride. Even before I was born, I read about the history of my people and how our country was invaded by foreigners because of how close we were and the like: the Dawn Horizon was one of them and I took my first step out to here. At a young age, even I saw what kind of young were here: cripples, baseborns, even orphaned folk were being left to dry and all the old folks could think about was having the continent for themselves just because their leader was linked to some kind of icon. Because of my foreign status, I was also a target of abuse so I fought back and even I knew it wouldn’t last long; since then, the only recourse was simply leaving the country yet again for greener pastures. I never imagined how much one would care about the song or the family dedicated to it, let alone be attached to it like it’s there identity as a person with real thoughts, hopes, and dreams…”

“Either way, you should’ve thought of that before you stole from me…” Buttercup had growled, walking over to the box to unveil a purplish glow emanating from there.

Reaching into the shirt, Krill pulled out a sack and snuffled, “here, take my money: a hundred bits even; are we square…?”

“Good grief, I know this is blatantly obvious but you really are a piece of work…” the bandaged woman had sighed with annoyance as a set of thorny vines and chains slithered about from here, “what you owe can never be paid back with money…!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH…!” the pint–sized passenger screamed as they latched onto his limbs without warning, dragging him off in the abyss within their point of origin in spite of their captive’s efforts while she’d watched onward with a smirk.

Buttercup tore off pieces of paper clinging to her body and bit the left forefinger so hard she’d drawn some lifeblood: after droplets of it sank into the material, she'd cast aside the debris into the area where Krill’s voice echoed while moaning joyously, “quiet you…”

It wasn’t long until all of the sights and sounds in any shape or form whatsoever had disappeared completely: no people, places, things, or even ideas; just pure darkness and then some.