Graveyard shift at the 7-11 again. Oliver sighed, leaning back against the wall as he casually browsed the internet on his phone. The overnight shifts were nice, mostly because nobody else wanted to take them so he always got plenty of hours, but also because he was the only employee in the store and so few people actually came in to do business. He got plenty of peace and quiet to himself throughout the night. It could be a double-edged sword, since the people who did show up were often really strange, but it had never been anything he couldn't handle.

Tonight had been especially quiet. Since sunset, he'd only had one customer actually come into the store, and barely any more fill up outside. It was just the way he liked it, but he got the sinking suspicion it wouldn't last forever. It never did.

As if on cue, the electronic bell rang as the door swung open. Oliver hastily set his phone down on the counter and turned to face the new customer.

"Welcome to 7-11," he droned, observing the young woman entering the store. She was taller than him, but looked about his age. She had the look of a ranch hand: broad and muscular, wearing a cowboy hat and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Oliver wasn't surprised; Florida had a huge cattle industry, and Fairweather in particular was surrounded by cattle ranches. He'd seen hundreds of ranchers over the years.

The woman looked around, then seemed to zero in on Oliver. She idly scratched at her hair beneath her hat, as if unsure what to say.

"Ah... howdy," she finally worked out. "You uh... y'all got a map?"

Oliver gave her an odd look, confused by the question. "A map? Like, of the town? Can't you just look on your phone?"

She looked bewildered for a moment, letting out a long "uh..." and looking around, as if the answer would present itself to her from thin air.

"She... forgot it!" a voice from below the counter suddenly called out. "At... at home!"

Leaning forward to see who had spoken, Oliver saw a rather short kid in a hoodie, with his hair done up in a green mohawk. Odd company for a ranch hand. Probably her little brother or something, going through a rebellious phase.

"Gotcha," Oliver replied, picking his own phone back up. "If you want, I can just show you a map on my phone. Where are you headed?"

The pair looked at each other, then back at Oliver.

"Uh... Key West," the woman finally said. "Is it far from here?"

Oliver blinked, giving the woman another odd look. "You don't know where the keys are? It's more than a bit of a hike. If you're headed down that way, you really ought to get your phone before you leave."

She said nothing in response, but watched intently as Oliver pulled up his maps app and put in the information. Oliver missed the look of absolute wonder on her face, focused on the screen as he was.

"Alright, here," he said as the map loaded, showing a route from Fairweather in roughly the center of the state, down to the keys and eventually ending in Key West. "It's about 350 miles, you see? A 5-and-a-half hour drive, if you're lucky. Heading down to Key West isn't some day trip, you know."

"350 miles?" the woman repeated, looking at the phone in confusion. "And how do y'all reckon we'd get that far in under 6 hours?"

"What do you mean?" Oliver asks, befuddled by the odd girl for a third time in as many minutes. "You'd drive, of cour-"

The door opened again, the electronic bell heralding the entry of another customer. This time it was a man, as tall as the woman and built nearly as broad, but with a shock of wild electric blue hair and a simple white t-shirt.

"Applejack," he said breathlessly, as if he'd been running. "There's two men, coming this way. They practically reek of magic. The princess and Fluttershy still aren't back yet; we need to hide somewhere."

Oliver set his phone back down, turning his attention to the man with an incredulous expression. "Pardon, what did you just say?"

The guy seemed to ignore him entirely, herding "Applejack" and the kid around the counter against a string of their protests. "Crouch down here, don't make any sound. You-"

He turned and pointed at Oliver, glaring intensely at him.

"Pretend we're making a transaction. You're selling me something, anything. Don't tell them there's anyone else in here, got it?"

"Hey, I don't know what the hell this is about, but," Oliver started, but before he could finish a pair of men entered the store. Oliver glanced their way, seeing a taller guy in sunglasses and a hoodie with a shorter man in a white wife beater.

The man with the blue hair looked at him, this time more pleadingly than commanding, and in the moment Oliver went with his gut.

"...and you said three packs of the menthols, sir?" he started, settling into his tried and true retail voice as he turned to the cigarette cabinet and began picking through it.

"Yes, that's all," the man replied, not missing a beat.

Oliver pretended to look through the cigarettes for a bit, pulling out two packs of Camel menthols and turning back to the pretend customer.

"Be right with you folks!" he said with sickening false cheer in his voice, looking at the pair of punks who were standing behind the man impatiently. Oliver caught sight of them staring at the man and murmuring to each other, and silently prayed this wouldn't go bad.

"Ah, darn, looks like I've only got two of those left," he continued, placing them both on the counter. "Is there another kind you'd like as a replacement? Really sorry about that, by the way."

The blue haired man put on an impressive show of rubbing his chin in contemplation as he looked at the cigarettes in the cabinet. "Ah... let me see. One of the Marlboros should be just fine."

Oliver nodded, keeping the act going. "Sure thing, let me get that for you sir."

As he prepared to turn for a second time, the taller of the two punks stepped up to the counter, shouldering past the man with the blue hair.

"Sorry pal, this'll only take a sec, I promise," he said, his voice calm and smooth. "I'm lookin' for some buddies of mine, see, and I thought I might'a saw 'em comin' in here. Anyone else come in here in the last few minutes, pal?"

A nervous look came over the blue-haired man's face, and Oliver tried to remain passive as he replied.

"No, not recently," he said, turning to reach for the cigarette cabinet. "It's been a slow night, sir. Sorry about that."

"Now come on pal," the delinquent said slowly. "You don't have to lie to little ol' me. Why don't you tell me exactly who came in here before us, huh?"

"I'm telling you sir," Oliver replied, starting to sweat a bit as he turned back around. "There hasn't been anyone else in for a..."

As he locked eyes with the delinquent, who'd lowered his shades to reveal his steel-gray eyes, Oliver felt his mind going numb and his tongue slacken in his mouth. The corners of his vision became fuzzy, and he spoke without thinking.

"A woman and a kid came in," he said in a robotic monotone. "The girl was wearing clothes like a ranch hand, and the kid had a mohawk. Then that guy with the blue hair came, then you two."

The moment he'd finished speaking, whatever hold had been put over him vanished, and he gasped for breath as his senses returned. He nearly fell over from shock, his back hitting the cigarette cabinet with a dull thud.

"Aww, now see?" the punk said, leaning back away from the counter. "Was that so bad? Everything's easier when people cooperate, don't you know?"

The delinquents turned to the man with blue hair, who was glaring at Oliver with an angry expression.

"Why did you tell-!" he started, but was cut off by the shades-wearing punk.

"Ah ah ah, temper there pal!" he said with glee. "Not his fault, you know. It's just my natural charisma at play. After all..."

He lowered his sunglasses again, and his gray eyes seemed to gleam with sinister light.

"No one can deny when they're called to Testify."

The shorter delinquent began to advance on the man, but from beneath the counter the woman suddenly stood up, drawing to her full height and towering over the pair of hooligans.

"Y'all best get on outta here, ya hear?" she said, trying to seem intimidating. Despite her nervous tone, her stature certainly helped her in that regard, but the shorter punk seemed unfazed while the taller one just began to laugh.

"Ha ha ha! Oh man, you people are just a hoot, you know that?"

The taller delinquent looked to his partner in crime and gestured to the girl.

"Daryl, waste this bitch for me would you?"

The shorter punk, apparently named Daryl, simply grunted, raising a hand as steely needles began to emerge from his palm. The woman dove at him, trying to grab him by the collar, but was roughly forced back as the needles launched from Daryl's hand and pin-cushioned her torso. She slammed against the cigarette cabinet, bleeding profusely but still conscious and raring to go.

"Hah, don't go havin' too much fun now Daryl!" the taller delinquent said in a chiding tone. "We still need to question 'em after all."

"Got it, Rodney," Daryl replied, more needles forming in his palms as the woman named Applejack rounded the corner and stalked towards him. Next to her, the man with the blue hair raised his hands and seemed to be ready for a fight.

Once the fight got started in earnest, Oliver ducked behind the counter himself to avoid whatever crazy shit was going on. He caught sight of some blue light in his peripheral vision, and the clattering of those needles against something hard, but kept his head down for fear of getting caught in the crossfire. Next to him, the kid with the mohawk tried to get up and see what was happening, but Oliver roughly shoved him back down.

"Stay here," he whispered to the kid, his voice showing his panic. "That guy had fucking needles in his hands! You stay right here!"

The kid opened his mouth as if to protest, but shut it again when he saw Oliver's desperate expression. Oliver, after a few moments of hyperventilating, reached into his pocket for his phone only to find it gone. It took every ounce of his willpower not to start panicking again, and once his mind was clear he remembered that he'd left it on the counter.

He needed to call the police. Whatever was going on, he absolutely needed to call the police. Swallowing hard and steeling his nerves, he peeked up from behind the counter and caught sight of the fight taking place.

Shelves had been smashed and knocked over as the combatants moved around the small store, taking cover from each others' attacks behind whatever they could get their hands on. The blue-haired man, much to Oliver's further bewilderment, had a glowing blue barrier raised in front of him and the so-called Applejack girl. Applejack herself looked particularly worse for wear, and seemed to have taken the majority of Daryl's needles over the course of the fight. She was on the ground, and seemed to be only just hanging onto consciousness.

Oliver saw his phone on the edge of the counter and slowly put out his left hand, reaching towards it and wrapping his fingers around the device. He dared to grin at his success, and started pulling it back towards him...

...when abruptly pain blossomed in his hand as a hail of needles struck it. Crying out in pain, he dropped the phone, which had thankfully taken the brunt of the needles instead of his hand. Unfortunately, it was now very, very broken.

"Nice try, mister clerk!" Rodney called out, grinning like mad as Daryl returned his attention to the blue-haired man. "Too bad for you, I'm a bit too perceptive for that. Hah!"

Nursing his bleeding hand and trying not to pass out at the sight of so much of his own blood, Oliver ducked back down below the counter. He tried desperately to steady his breathing, but didn't find much luck. The kid next to him was starting to panic too, which certainly did nothing to help Oliver's own nerves.

"Come on, pal!" Rodney shouted gleefully at his opponent. "Drop your shield already compadre! Let's sort this shit out like real men! Aren't you gettin' tired or somethin'?"

From this angle, Oliver could just barely see the blue-haired guy, panting and sweating behind that barrier he seemed to be holding up. Applejack seemed to be down for the count at this point.

"I'm exhausted," the man with the blue hair replied in a nearly robotic fashion. The momentary lapse in his concentration caused his shield to falter momentarily, but he brought it back up just in time for another wave of needles to smack into it.

Oliver could hear Rodney clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Shit, so close that time too! Can't you be any faster on the draw with those needles, Daryl?"

"Doin' my best man," Daryl drawled, preparing another volley.

As they bickered back and forth, Oliver's panicked mind raced as he tried to think of something to do. Without his phone he couldn't call the police, and if the delinquents were concerned about that they definitely wouldn't let him escape. All he wanted to do was get the hell out this... whatever this was, but as long as those goons were around he had no chance.

He looked at the space beneath the counter behind him, and saw the old aluminum baseball bat the manager had left there. Oliver thought back to his first day working here, with the manager trying to convince him it was for protection in case of a robbery. Oliver hadn't taken it seriously then, and he certainly didn't take it seriously now, but what options did he have?

Peeking around the side of the counter this time rather than the top, Oliver eyed the fallen shelves and wondered what he could do in a situation like this. His eyes scanned the wreckage, and a wicked thought came to him. It was an awful plan, truly, but it was all he had.

Shining Armor groaned and heaved as fatigue weighed heavily on his limbs. Behind him Applejack was barely conscious, but Discord's goons seemed to be fresh as daisies. The taller one, Rodney, was surprisingly crafty, using his focus to disrupt Shining's concentration like that. Shining resolved to stay mentally braced for the next time that happened.

"Tick tock pal, tick tock!" Rodney taunted, grinning widely. "You're gonna have to put that wall down sooner or later, and when you do, you're gonna get a first-class acupuncture treatment!"

Shining grunted in annoyance at the thug's attempts at banter, but couldn't ignore how right he was. He wouldn't last much longer, and using his own focus was draining what energy he had left fast. He wracked his brain for a plan, but none were forthcoming. He could only pray the Princess would get here soon.

"You know, I'd offer you mercy in exchange for your info," Rodney said. "But you'll just tell me everythin' I wanna know anyways. My Testify can't be resisted, after all. Between that and my boy Daryl's Needles, we're just about an unstoppa-"

From behind the delinquents, a rectangular white bottle sailed through the air, colliding with Rodney's head with a deep thud and falling to the ground, spilling its contents all over the place. Rodney was sent reeling, clutching the back of his head in pain.

"Augh! Holy shit, oww! What the fuck!"

He and Daryl turned, directing their attention to the store clerk, now out in the open with his arm outstretched from throwing the bottle. The look of terror on his face was plain for Shining to see, and while he commended the young man's efforts he was sure it wouldn't end well for him.

Rodney's grimace twisted into a vile smirk. "Well, well, well. Look at you! Mister Gas Station Clerk over here, playin' the big time hero. How's it feel, pal? How's it feel to be a hero tonight?"

"Awful," the clerk, or Oliver as Shining read from his name tag, said monotonously, forced to respond by Rodney's Testify. Shining couldn't blame him.

Rodney threw back his head, cackling. "Well good! You fuckin' deserve it you little shitbag. Not that we were gonna let you live or anything, but now we're gonna kill you first! Daryl!"

Daryl raised his hand, ready to make Oliver into a pin-cushion, but the young man raised a hand defensively. "H-hey, hey! Wait!"

"And why should we?" Rodney asked, voice dripping with derision. Regardless, Daryl had held his fire for the moment.

"B-because," he continued, "I've... got something... for you..."

Rodney's mouth dropped open a bit, and indeed Shining was also rather bemused at such a silly ploy.

"You think we're fuckin' stupid or somethin'?" Rodney asked, gesturing to himself and Daryl.

"I was really hoping so," Oliver offered in a monotone, causing Shining to hold back a grin despite himself and Rodney to growl in anger.

"Enough of this shit! Daryl, put a fuckin' round in..."

"What is it?" Daryl asked.

The whole room went silent, as everyone's eyes went to Daryl, who simply stared at the clerk with a curious expression.

The clerk, seeming to realize his chance, pulled an object out of his pocket.

"It's a... a-a one way... it's a ticket to..." he stammered, brandishing a box of matches. "It's a o-one way ticket... oh fuck it, I'm too fucking nervous..."

He lit one of the matches, and it was only then that the smell of the lighter fluid pooling around Daryl and Rodney's feet hit everyone's noses.

"W-wait!" Rodney suddenly said, taking a step back. "Wait wait wait! Don't!"

But Oliver had already flicked the match forwards, landing in the pool of flammable liquid at the goons' feet and igniting it all in an instant. Fire licked at their heels, racing up their pant legs and spreading to the piles of foodstuffs that had been scattered and knocked about. Oliver ran for the exit, gesturing to Shining and Spike, who had just left the cover of the counter.

"Come on!" he screamed. "I'm not waiting up for you, damn it!"

He ran out of he building, forcing Shining to haul Applejack up onto his shoulders alone and trudge out after him. Spike tried to help, but couldn't do much and simply followed after him.

In the parking lot outside, Oliver fell to his knees and heaved, vomiting the contents of his stomach all over the concrete. He was vaguely aware of movement in his peripheral vision, and saw the kid and the blue-haired guy coming up beside him, with their friend Applejack in tow. He caught the man staring at him, narrowing his eyes as if scrutinizing him.

"...What?" he asked flatly, after panting a bit more and wiping away bile from the corners of his mouth.

"I don't know what to make of you," blue hair replied simply.

"A 'thanks' would sure be swell."

"You were saving yourself, not us. You said as much."

Oliver just grunted, slowly standing back up and dusting himself off. After a moment, the blue-haired man sighed.

"I'm Shining Armor," he said, carefully setting Applejack down and turning to face Oliver. "I... guess I will thank you, after all. It was brave, what you did, even if it was motivated by selfishness."

"My mistake," Oliver replied. "I must've missed the memo that said wanting to survive was selfish now."

The two glared at each other for a moment, before the kid interposed himself between the two.

"A-and I'm Spike!" he said, trying to diffuse the tension. "It's uh, real nice to meet you!"

Oliver looked down at Spike, before rolling his eyes and grinning slightly.

"Oliver Rhine," he said, pulling off the apron that was part of his uniform. "Your hair's pretty cool, Spike."

"O-oh!" Spike stuttered, as if not expecting the compliment. "Uh, thanks. It's... how I've always done it."

Oliver decided not to question that comment, or the fact that two of these people were apparently named "Shining Armor" and "Applejack". Really, who names their kid that? Ridiculous.

Speaking of, the woman in question stirred, groaning as she opened her eyes and looked up at the others.

"Is it over?" she asked, eyes darting between the figures above her.

"Guess so," Oliver said, stretching a bit. "You all better stay here until the police inevitably arrive. We're going to have to give them a full account of what happened for the police report. I hope you'll vouch for me when I tell them about the two guys I..."

He trailed off, turning to look at the 7-11 whose roof was now collapsing as the building was engulfed in flames.

"...I just killed two guys," he said softly, sitting down hard on the pavement. The drop hurt his ass like hell, but he was more concerned with other things at the moment.

"It was all you could do," Shining Armor said, walking up and crouching next to him. "They were set on killing all of us, they said as much. The moment they made that explicit, you were justified. It's not pleasant to think about, and it won't be easy to get over, but it was your only option."

Oliver remained silent, grinding his teeth together as he mulled over the words.

"Just..." Shining continued. He seemed to be trying to find the right words. "...the fact that you're upset about it, that means you understand it's not something to be taken lightly. That's a good thing, alright?"

For some guy who apparently didn't know what to make of him, Shining Armor sure seemed to have a pretty good idea of what was going on in Oliver's head space. It was Oliver's turn to not know what to make of Shining Armor now, what with the criticizing him one moment and consoling him the next.

"As for the matter of your law enforcement..." Shining began to say. "I don't think it would be a good idea for us to stick around. You see, we don't really have-"

Oliver heard the words catch in Shining's throat, and looked up in curiosity at what could've made him cut off so abruptly. From the burning wreckage of the 7-11, a burned and bloody Rodney limped towards them.

"No way..." Oliver murmured, and beside him Shining stood back up. He saw a blue glow emanating from the man's hands, similar to the color of the barrier he'd made.

"Looks like you've lost, thug," Shining spat. "With your friend dead, you've got no way to actually harm us. It's over. You tell us everything you know about Discord's plans, and I'll let you walk away."

Rodney stopped his limping gait, staring at Shining for a moment before letting out a raspy cackle.

"Heh heh heh! You... you're a fuckin' idiot, you know? Focuses... they're nice and all, but at the end of the day there's still one great equalizer."

Oliver shot to his feet, eyes wide as Rodney pulled out a Beretta 92 and pointed it straight at Shining.

"I'll put you underground, asshole. All of you assholes. Let's see that stained-glass of yours hold up to my hand cannon, huh? Heh heh heh!"

Oliver took a step back out of reflex, and Spike cowered behind Shining. Why hadn't Rodney used that earlier? Could the guy really have been that arrogant? Either way, it didn't matter now, but Oliver couldn't just up and run. Rodney would put a bullet in his back the moment he made any sudden moves. He'd gotten lucky in the store, but he had no plan for this.

Rodney cackled louder, and Shining raised his glowing hands in preparation to make a barrier. The glow surged for a moment, and after a few seconds... nothing had happened. Shining's face took on a panicked look, and Oliver cursed inwardly.

"What is it?" he asked through grit teeth. "Do your fucking shield thing already!"

"I..." Shining started, panting heavily. "...I'm... too exhausted. No energy."

"Ahahahahahaha!" Rodney howled. "Perfect! Let's not waste any more time then!"

Oliver could see the muscles in Rodney's hand tighten, and the muzzle of his gun flashed as he fired straight at Shining Armor. Oliver shut his eyes, not wanting to see the result...

"Hey... hey, what the... what gives!"

Oliver's eyes opened, and he looked next to him to see a perfectly intact Shining Armor. Scanning the surroundings, his eyes settled on a divot in the concrete where the bullet seemed to have embedded in the ground. What on Earth could've caused that?

"I'm so very sorry, my little ponies."

Oliver whirled around, catching sight of a woman walking up behind them all. If Applejack had been tall, this woman was practically amazonian. Her hair billowed out behind her in a cascade of greens, pinks, and blues as she walked past Shining Armor to face Rodney.

"To have let you all be so endangered," she began. "The blame falls entirely on me. I will resolve the situation."

Rodney, shaking and seeming to panic, fired his gun again, and this time Oliver watched as the bullet slammed harmlessly into the pavement in front of the woman. She began advancing towards Rodney, who backpedaled in terror.

"N-no! No, you get back!" Rodney yelled. "The boss told me about you! I don't want anything to do with you!"

"You should have considered that before you allied with Discord," the woman said, her voice now stern and commanding, like a disappointed parent. "You should have considered that before you harmed my subjects."

The Beretta suddenly slipped from Rodney's hand, plummeting to the ground and smashing against the concrete with enough force to leave a crater. Rodney yelped, turning and trying to hobble away, but he too collapsed to the ground. Trying in vain to stand and flee, he seemed totally pinned to the ground by some invisible force.

The woman loomed over him, and as he looked up at her Rodney gave one final yelp before his eyes rolled back in his head. He'd passed out cold.

"Oh!" the woman said, the dour tone in her voice completely gone as she turned to face the others. "My, that is certainly convenient. To simply fall unconscious, it's mush less gruesome then what I had been planning to do. What a relief."

Oliver, still stunned, watched as Shining Armor straightened and gave a tired salute.

"You have my humble thanks, Princess Celestia."

Author's Note

Not much to say here. Hope you enjoy this for as long as I keep updating it.

Before anyone else brings it up, the abilities humans use in this story are called "Focuses". I'm taking a page from JJBA (a popular manga/anime if you aren't familiar) and using song names as names for the various Focuses used by heroes and villains throughout the story, both because it's a fun naming scheme and I'm crummy at coming up with names for stuff myself. The story is not connected to JJBA in any way, so no worries there, I just like the idea. Apologies if it's "cringey" or otherwise a deal-breaker for anyone.