(Background Music)
POV
“I know a lot of gamers out the don’t have much patience. east that's what Mina, the dragon at the video store said. So I'm at the register, then I realize I got no money. I was seriously broke. Why? Cuz I met this smokin' hot mare last night at the Death-Match bar. Man, she smelled good! So being the gentleman I am, I bought her a drink. Anyhoo, I decide to get a job. The gig: assassinate the Drifter. “

It was dark in the midst of night, save for the soft, blue glows of various street lamps. No stars were visible, just boring, dull, gray clouds, signaling it’s about to rain. The top of the building looked like a large parking lot, with steel gates, lining all four edges. It must of rained the night prior, as there were a few puddles, left roof of the tall building. One of which was stepped on, by a running stallion.

The stallion in question was light gold, with light green eyes. He wore a brown cowboy hat over his long, bright orange hair. He also wore a black trenchcoat, with silver crosses going down his sleeves and a white shirt underneath. He also wore thick, black, leather boots and leather pants with silver lines going down them. A several belts on his hind legs and one going around his waist, with a silver belt buckle in the center. His jacket was unzipped, revealing a necklace around his neck and thick, black, leather gloves. He also have a chain hanging on the left side of his pants and two large, gun pouches behind him. He was also caring two large, revolvers in each hoof, and an unlit cigar in his mouth.

Braeburn Skaeburn ran across the top of the roof, with one revolver in each hoof. Making his way towards a lone figure on the opposite side of the roof.

The figure was completely covered by a long, hooded cloak, covering his entire body, that also seemed to glow orange in the night sky. But upon closer look at the shape, one could tell he was short for pony, and he had no hind legs or maybe he did but he was standing on them, with his fore hooves in the air. The

Braeburn jumped and kicked the figure in the chest, with his powerful hind legs, sending him crashing into the railing behind him. Just as the cloaked figure crashed into the railing breaking it, it started to rain. All of a sudden Braeburn started unloading his revolvers onto the fallen figure. The cloaked figure spasmed everytime a bullet hit him, until eventually falling over when the bullets stopped.

Braeburn Skaeburn then pulled out a lighter and lit his cigar, before spinning his empty revolvers a bit and putting them back into his pouches. As he turned around, revealing the large, silver eagle symbol on the back of his coat, he could sense movement. The cloaked figure started to stand, as a red mist started to surround the figure’s body. Braeburn simply smiled and but his forelegs above his head.

“Hear the lullaby? Rest in peace, baby!” He said, as he brought his fore hooves down, revealing two large, silver, cylinder-like objects, that made gun cocking sounds, when moved forward. Both of these two cylinder-like objects shot out smaller, black versions of the same object, that opened up into four rockets each.

All eight rockets hit the cloaked figure, one by one exploding into blue fire. The impact from each blast knocked the cloaked figure around, until eventually they ended and he fell over.

Braeburn just stood there smiling, thinking his job was finished. His expression quickly turned from happy to shocked, to see the cloaked figure get back up. The initial shock of all this was enough to let the cigar fall out of his mouth.

The rockets did however burn off the figure’s cloak, revealing him to be a purple and green dragon, with green eyes. He a red jacket over a white, jeans, red tennis shoes, a brown belt with several pouches and a brown, leather glove on his right hand. His head was down so Braeburn could see the dragon’s face.

He also seemed to be holding some kind of device. The device looked like a rubber-padded handle was attached to a spark plug pointing out, with a red switch on side and an a electric surge poking out the side. Just then a rod came out from the tip of the device, over the spark plug and ended a couple of meters away to produce another spark plug pointing down at the first one. Just then the switch was flip and where between the two spark plugs were, there was now a long, blue-ish white beam of energy being produced. This device is known by most assassins as a “Beam Katana”

So I went where I was supposed to and waited for the guy to show up. And there he was. This cat. Well dressed, cool. Couldn't tell if he was "the shit"...or just plain ol' shit.

Just then, Braeburn Skaeburn changed his rocket launchers to gatling guns and started firing more bullets at the dragon. The dragon with unknown reflexes, managed to block all the bullets firing at him with his beam katana, whilst his head was still down. When Braeburn ran out of bullets, gatling gun gauntlets each produced a long blade. Just then, the dragon lifted his head, revealing he was wearing orange-tinted sunglasses.

Braeburn then started running towards the dragon, as the dragon did the same to him. Both raising their weapons in the air. Braeburn leaped into the air, raising his blades into the air. Just as he was about to strike down his target, the dragon slid out from underneath him, a couple of meters away, holding out his beam katana.

"Your shining armor and fine words won't get you anywhere!" Spike Touchdown shouted.

Just then Braeburn Skaeburn’s head fell off his body, spraying blood everywhere.

Yeah, so he's stylin', fast, aggressive and packin' heat. Bada Bing! Or at least it was supposed to be... Til she showed up. Her name: Rarity Christel. An agent with this whatchamacallit Association.

Just then a white unicorn mare, with indigo hair and blue eyes, walked in. She wore a black skirt and white blouse with a black overcoat, black shoes and black scarf around her neck. She also had large white cuffs on her overcoat. She walked over to Braeburn Skaeburn’s decapitated body and gave it a light kick, checking if he was dead.

“Barbaric i'd say, but acceptable” Rarity Christel said, before turning to face Spike. “Congratulations. You are certified as the 11th-best hit man.”

“Huh? You want me to thank YOU?” Spike asked, confused.

“You are certified rank 11 by the UAA! You have a challenging right.” Rarity explained, smiling. “How about getting rid of the ten killers above you and aim for the top?”

I wanna be number one. How's that? Short and simple enough for you? It's gonna be a long, hard road. But who knows? Could kick ass... Could be dangerous. Could totally suck… Let the bloodshed begin!

Author's Note

*Rankings List*

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11. ~~Braeburn Skaeburn~~ Spike Touchdown