September 4th, 2018
Canterlot Mississippi
Rarity lurched as the shed door violently swung open, the pain in her head had dumbed down and her vision was clear. she could see she was in the wooden garden shed behind her home with tools hanging on the walls, and leaning against the walls. She saw she was bound with red nylon cord and had a white cloth gagging her, she was still in her white nightgown which was now dirty, her legs were tingly and numb as they had been laid on all night.
In the doorway, bathed by the morning sun was a tall imposing figure, he was bald but with very short hairs sticking out of the top of his head revealing his hairline, he had a short black beard in the style of mutton chops, he was stocky and looked surprisingly muscular despite his main profession being a guitarist.
He wore a red short-sleeve button-up shirt, a black t-shirt that had a spade symbol on the center with Ace of Spades written in it and Motorhead above it, dark blue jeans, brown laceless work boots, and a pair of aviator sunglasses. In his right hand was a blue case with a handle on top, and in his left was an envelope looking object. He sat them down on a nearby barrel and kneeled to face Rarity chewing on some tobacco. He removed the cloth around he mouth delicately with his rough calloused hands.
She gasped before saying hastily "Thank you Mister Thattchir, please cut these cords"
He just stared at her before spitting the chewing tobacco off to the side. After doing this he began to laugh, quietly at first in his deep voice, but soon the laugh grew louder and he got up facing away from her. He opened up the blue case revealing it to be a record player, he then showed her the envelope revealing it to be the sleeve for holding a record, the record had "George Thorogood and The Destroyers Greatist Hits" he placed it on the player and started it, when he did it began to play One Scotch, One Bourbon, and One Beer fairly loud.
As the song played he kneeled back in front of Rarity and leaned in close brushing a strand of her dirty blue hair out of her face.
"Where is the money?" he whispered in his deep rough voice with a noticeable southern accent.
Her answer was in light whimpers while tears welled up in her eyes. He got up and walked out of the shed and left her site, going around the left side of the house. He returned a minute later with a blood-stained Louisville Slugger baseball bat. She quickly put two and two together and found that he was the one who'd drug her in there after knocking her out. He sat the end of the bat on the ground again.
"Where's the damned money?" he exclaimed angrily through gritted teeth
She stammered to say something before she felt pain surge through her head and heard a loud thwack as the bat hit her on the forehead.
"WHERE'S THE GOD DAMNED MONEY?" Yelled Arron angrily looking at the fresh stain on his bat
She looked up at him and shakily said "In the second drawer of my dresser, in my bedroom on the second floor at the end of the hall on the left"
"Now that wasn't so hard," said Arron happily as he smiled at her.
He lifted the needle off of the record and left the shed kicking in the back door of Rarity's house. He returned a minute later and grabbed the record and record player
"I'll be right back," he said before walking around the left of the house.
He came into view again, this time holding a red jug in his right hand.
"A-are you gonna cut me loose?" asked Rarity weakly
"Can't have any witnesses responded Arron as he splashed the liquid in the around the shed, it's all too familiar smell wafting into Rarity's nostrils. Gasoline.
She tried to scream but the cloth was put around her mouth again and her screams were muffled.
"Hope you like the smell o' gasoline," said Arron backing out of the shed and leaving a trail "Cause it'll be the last thing you smell"
Arron pulled a box of Marlboro Reds out of his shirt pocket and pulled one out. He put the box back and pulled a small matchbook out of his other shirt pocket, he struck the match and lit his cigarette blowing out a puff of smoke before dropping it in the trail of gasoline. The trail almost instantly lit up and raced towards the shed which burst into flames. Arron stared at the blaze and watched as the barely visible figure of Rarity squirmed around, her muffled screams barely audible over the crackle of flames.
She stopped moving and Arron pulled out a flip phone, dialed a number, and stuck it to his ear.
"Tim, it's me, Arron, meet me at the hound track on Watterson Street in a half-hour" he closed the phone and walked around the house.
He climbed inside of a somewhat rusted, red 1983 Ford F250 long bed, two-row truck. He started it up, the low rumble of a diesel engine filling the cab, he shifted into first and drove down the long driveway to the main road. He got on the main road, it was a long narrow road that lead toward the highway. He stopped at the end of the driveway and opened the glove box pulling out a black snub-nose .38 caliber revolver.
He pulled the pin out of the cylinder and grabbed a box of bullets that had been next to the gun putting a shot in each cylinder. He inserted the pin back into the revolver holding the cylinder in place, he pulled the hammer back slightly and spun the cylinder, before placing it back in the glove box and shutting it.
"One down, six to go" he muttered to himself before pulling out of the driveway
