Let Them Eat Vengeance

Let me tell you a story about Alison Grace. She was tall, blonde with pink eyes. She liked to keep up appearances, so she always monitored her weight. She was known as the Queen, The Princess. She was also known as, The Bitch of East Canterlot. By the age of sixteen, she was the leader of a major crime syndicate. At age seven teen, she took over the town and made a mafia. This mafia dealt in many things. Weapons dealings, both civilian and military. Narcotics; prescription and illegal. And finally, loan sharking. She was basically untouchable in school, since she could make your family vanish. But, this story isn’t about her escapades. No no, you see, this story is about her downfall. It all started with a double cross.

“Robert Joseph did, what?” She growled. She was sitting in her chair in her office, legs crossed with a red pencil dress on. She kicked her one foot back and forth ever so slightly, flashing her black heel wedges. The man before her tugged on his shirt collar and gulped.

“He-uh… Started selling his product to keep the profit to himself.” He informed. Alison slowly inhaled through her nose and ran her blood red nails through her wavy golden locks, shutting her eyes for the briefest of moments. The stare she returned with was bone chilling. She had lowered her chin, and was glaring past her eyebrows. Everything about her screamed that she was ready to pounce. She licked her lips, like a predator anticipating a meal. Her posture was leaned slightly forward, with her shoulders arched. Her talons were tightly interlaced, making her knuckles turn white. Her arched eyebrows were sloped down toward the space between her eyes. It sent chills down her associates’ spines.

“Well…” She muttered in a low, soothing tone. “I guess we know one family we won’t be hearing from again. Kill them.” She ordered. The hence men nodded and turned to leave.

“But leave Robert for last. Let him run a little bit, I want him to feel the hope of escape crumble as you finally catch him.” She sneered sadistically. The man before her turned and nodded again.

“How many should we kill? Just the immediate family?” He asked.

“All of them, Nick.” Alison said with a sly smirk. “If they are blood related to him, I want them dead.” Nick nodded once more and gave her a two fingered salute.

“On it, boss.” He said politely. Nick slinked out of the room and shut the door behind him. Alison slowly craned her head to one side, cracking her neck in the process, and straightened her neck with a long exhale.

“Gregory! Fredrick!” She snapped. The two men saluted. One was short and fat, the other was tall and lanky.

“Yes ma’am!” They yelped in unison. Alison slowly turned her head toward them and stared them down with an unnerving faux-calm stare.

“I want you to go to our connections in the CPD. Tell them to back off, we can’t have them in our way for this.” She snarled.

“On it, Ma’am!” They shouted. The two bolted from the room, leaving Alison alone with one last associate. She opened the drawer to her desk and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. She tapped one out and pinched it between her lips.

“Jacobs. Light me.” She ordered grouchily. The man walked up beside her, pulled out a box of matches from his coat pocket, and struck one. He held it under her cig as she puffed on it to get it going. Once it was lit, Jacobs shook the match out and placed it in Alison’s ash tray. She took a long drag and leaned back in her chair. She stared at the ceiling as she let out a big plume of smoke. “Can I ask you something, Jacobs?” The man in question flinched, but quickly composed himself.

“Yes, ma’am. Anything at all.” He agreed. Alison giggled and sat up, glancing over at him with bedroom eyes.

“Don’t say anything, now.” She took a puff of her cigarette and glanced momentarily at his groin. “I might just ask you about your dick size.” She mused. Jacobs coughed uncomfortably. While she was certainly a… well developed lady, with rounded curves and all, he couldn’t stop thinking about her age.

“But seriously, I want to ask you something.” She leaned her cigarette up against her glass ash tray, dangling the smoldering end over the tray to stop her desk from burning. “What do you think of the world I’ve built?” She asked.

Jacobs raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but, I don’t follow.” Alison sighed.

“Well, I keep getting double crossed like this. Has my reputation not scared people enough?” She asked. She flipped her hand at the air and shook her head. “I mean, I’ve been compared to Irma Grese, of all people! So, where do these people get the nerve to cross me?” She asked. Jacobs lowered his head and gazed at the floor.

“I don’t know, Ma’am.” He answered. Alison smiled at him and cocked a head at him.

“You’re a good man Jacobs.” She complemented. “Tell me, are you married? By any chance?” Jacobs shook his head.

“No ma’am. Just dating someone, that’s all.” He answered unsteadily.

“Really?” She said with a fake pout. “What a shame. I would’ve gladly let you take me when I turned eighteen next month.” She licked her lips seductively and lowered her chin as she flinched the ashes of her cigarette.

“Though, I should warn you, I’m more experienced than I look.” She purred. If it were anybody but her, Jacobs would’ve commented on how gross that was coming from a high school girl. Jacobs didn’t say anything, and just let Alison continue her smoke. She leaned back in her seat and cackled. She always got a bit… frisky whenever someone crossed her. It was like she fed off her own sadism. Jacobs just hoped she could control herself enough to leave him be, though it seemed unlikely she’d control herself for long.

David and his father Kevin were out at the drag strip, testing their new Pro Nitrous car. The car was long and low to the ground, with backward swept features to reduce drag. An encased blower poked out of the hood, looking like a jet engine mounted on the hood. The front tires were thin, but the rear sets were fat in comparison. Dual wheelie bars protruded from the back of the car, anchored firmly to the frame on two points, making a triangular shaped truss to hold the wheels. Four exhaust pipes rose up and back behind the front wheels. The fiberglass shell on the frame was designed to look like a 68 Camaro, and was painted a glossy black. They came at night and rented out the drag strip for privacy reasons, and they were getting ready to send her off. After a many minutes changing spark plugs, adjusting the massive twin turbos, and packing the parachute back in, they had one thing left to do. Prep the asphalt.

The was normally done by a whole crew during professional events. But, because this was a private session, they had to do it themselves. This involved sweeping the racing surface free of dirt, rubber and gravel. Then washing the surface free of oil and grease. Then drying the track off. And finally, apply some special chemicals to the road to improve grip. Dave and his father were still in the sweeping phase. They didn’t have the large equipment to do this quickly, so they both brought wide push brooms to do the job. They talked while doing the job, and their conversation went as follows:

“So…” Kevin began. “You meet any girls?” Dave rolled his eyes glanced over at his father.

“Really?” He cringed. Kevin shrugged.

“What? A man’s not allowed to take interest in his son’s love life?” He asked. Dave shook his head.

“Not being that damn blunt, you can’t.” Dave remarked.

“Ah, fuck yourself.” Kevin said playfully. “But nah, seriously though, you haven’t met anyone?” Dave sighed.

“Nope.” He answered. Kevin stopped sweeping and stared at his son.

“How is that possible?” He questioned. “You're every bit as kick-ass as your old man. You should have girls swooning over you.”

Dave cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. “Welp, times have changed. Ladies may have liked the rebellious bad boy aesthetic when you were young, but now they just assume you're a violent prick.” Kevin chuckled.

“Well, you got the prick part down!” He quipped. Dave smirked and glared at his father.

“Fuck you, old man.” He prodded. Kevin laughed and put his hands up.

“Alright, alright, you ain’t a prick…” Kevin admitted. Dave nodded and went back to his work. Kevin pretended to sweep for a second, then gave Dave a sideways glance. “You the whole damn cactus.” Dave turned around and swatted at his father with the handle of the broom. His father dodged the first attack, then started blocking after the second. Their escapades quickly descended into sword fighting with the broom handles, giggling like a couple of idiots.

“I see you are trained in the way of the sword.” Kevin quoted. “But unfortunately for you…” Kevin swapped hands.

“I am not left handed.” Kevin finished. Dave swapped his hands and continued fighting as well.

“I’m not left handed either.” Dave quipped back. The two went at it for a few more seconds, until they noticed a pair of cars pull up behind their drag car. Two got out of a silver sedan, and the one who appeared to be the leader stepped out of a black 2018 Mustang. Three men in black clothes stood upon the edge to the tarmac. The leader wore a leather jacket with a hoodie and black gloves. His head was held high, and his shoulders were held firmly back. The father son duo decided to check it out. Kevin went first, with Dave following a little behind. The two groups strolled toward each other, with Dave and Kevin looking a little more confused than the other.

“Excuse me, this is a private session.” Kevin informed. He stopped in his tracks while the three men continued toward them. “Can I help you gentlemen out with any-” Kevin was cut short by a firm clock to the noggin.

“Dad!?” Dave shouted. He, being taller than his father, decided he need to do something to help. He leapt forward, and smacked the man who punch his father, with the handle of his broom. This sent the other two after him. Dave conked one over the head with the broom, but he wasn’t able to get the second one, who had bolted for him at the the same time. As a result, Dave was caught from behind, and put in a choke hold. Dave kicked the guy in front of him, planting his foot in the man’s groin. This caused Dave and the man choking him to stumble backwards a bit, but the mans grip never loosened. The man who’d punched Dave’s father got up, and clocked Dave across the head. Dave fell to the ground as he was released from the choke, and gasped for air.

The side of Dave’s face throbbed with pain, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He spat on the ground, and a gooey glob of blood and spit smacked against the tarmac. The man who had just punched Dave gestured toward his father, and the two other men picked him up and pulled him to his feet. Kevin groaned and shook his head, blood fanning out from his nose.

“What do you want?!” Kevin barked. The apparent leader rolled his shoulders and sighed.

“We’re here to teach Robert a lesson. Nothing personal.” The man spat. He glanced over to see Dave shakily rising to his feet, and chuckled. “Or maybe it is.” He remarked. The man suddenly drew a pistol from his jacket, and started unloading. Dave’s body twitched as each shot hit like a burning hammer. After a few shots, Dave dropped to the ground like a stone.

“David!” Kevin screamed. He struggled in his captor’s grasp, trying to help his son anyway he could. He almost broke free, but the two men managed to pull it together at the last second.

The leader turned and smirked at Kevin. “Oh you don’t like that?” Kevin gritted his teeth at the man.

“Well, you should’ve seen what we did to your wife.” He said with a smile. “Gotta say, me and the boys have always loved milfs. And she was the queen of em.” Kevin tried to pull free and rush the man once more.

“You son of a bitch!” Kevin spat. Again, the men restrained him. The leader rolled his and cackled. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll see your wife and baby boy again shortly.” The leader rose his pistol, and at point blank range, blew Kevin’s brain case open. The two men dropped the body and joined their leader in a hearty laugh.

“You hear this guy?” The leader asked, pointing at Kevin’s body. “You son of a bitch! What a fucking shmuck!” The three laughed at his crack.

“His wife was smokin’ though.” One of his two stooges said.

The other nodded and decided to add his two cents. “Yeah, and she squealed like a pig, the tight little broad.” The group laughed again. The leader sighed.

“It’s a shame we were ordered to wack ‘em all.” He commented. “I wouldn’t have minded keeping her for myself. What a great piece of ass.” The group burst out laughing again. But amidst their laughter, they’d totally forgotten about David’s body, which was currently rising to his feet behind the leader. Dave’s eyes glared at the back of the man’s head, glowing bright orange in the low light. He couldn’t hear, his ears were still ringing from the gunshots. But he didn’t need to, to know he’d been shot by them. Dave lunged, grabbing the leader’s arm and pointing the barrel of his own gun at his face. A brief look of panic set in as the man realized he was on the receiving end of his own pistol. Dave forced him to pull the trigger, blowing the man’s brain matter across the drag strip. The two gentlemen who remained staggered back in surprise, and fumbled to reach for their own guns in their jackets.

Dave quickly took the gun and pointed it at one of the men. He nailed the man in the right side of the chest. He turn turned the gun on the last man standing, who’d just managed to get his own gun out. Dave fired and a bullet slammed into the man’s gut. The man dropped his gun and clenched his stomach, falling to his knees in the process. Once on the ground, the man had his skull popped like a water melon by, the very pissed of, David Kaufman. Upon firing the killing round, the slide to the gun pulled back and remained opened. It was empty. Dave shakily dropped the gun, eyes never ceasing their glare. That is, until he noticed the fourth body laying on the ground. Dave walked over, and silently stood over his dead father. Dave saw the damage to his father’s head, and his blood boiled.

He gritted his teeth and howled at the inky black sky. In his partially deafened state, he couldn't hear how monstrous his pained cries sounded. He stomped and clenched his fists angrily. Tears poured from his eyes and his face became red as a tomato. He burst a blood vessel during one of his screaming fits, turning his left eye bright red. He wanted revenge. He glanced over and the Black Mustang the leader had come in. It was still running. The license plate was familiar too, Reading ‘TH3 B1TCH’ boldly on front. He now had a target. He glanced down at his clothes. His grey shirt was bloody and full of holes. His black jeans and tall boots, however, were unscaved. He looked down at the ring leader he’d just killed. He was wearing a slim leather jacket with a hood attached to it. He also had leather gloves that reached up to the elbow. The gloves had studs randomly placed along the outside of the forearm, and the back of the hand. Dave snorted to keep his nose from running.

“Nice jacket.” He muttered. He took his shirt off, and bent down to take the man’s clothes off. When he was done, Dave was now wearing the man’s shirt, jacket, and gloves. Combined with his tall, black combat boots, and the black jeans tucked into them, he looked like some kind of biker gang member. Dave walked off and grabbed an extra container of gasoline. He came back and dragged the three bodies into a pile, throwing his old shirt on there as well. His father was excluded from the burn pile, however. Dave poured gas over the henchmen, and patted himself down for something to light it with. He snapped his fingers when he realized he didn’t have anything. His fingers sparked upon doing so, garnering his attention. He snapped again, and more sparks came. This time, he put all his focus on it, and snapped his fingers again. The tip of his thumb caught fire, much to Dave’s surprise.

He didn’t wait long, though. He lowered his thumb to the gasoline soaked ground and lit it. The pool of gas caught fire, and he realized he was standing in it just a moment too late. Fire engulfed him… but he felt nothing. He went largely unaffected by the flames. He looked up at the burning bodies, and began cackling. The sight of the burning corpses excited him. He wanted more. He wanted to make more bad guys, more guilty souls, suffer. His skin started to smoke and his eyes flared orange. He literally doubled over laughing as his flesh burned away, leaving behind a rather pissed off looking skull, atop a bare skeleton wearing pristine clothing. The small studs on his gloves lengthened to a full centimeter long, and his cackling began to die down. The flaming skull lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the Mustang. He stepped out from the flames and marched toward the car, leaving a short trail of burning gas as the last of it burned off his boot’s rubber soles. He paused when his foot kicked something. He looked down, and realized he’d kicked his father’s leg. His father stared up at the night sky lifeless, face still wearing a look of shock and concern.

For a moment, the skull looked a little sad for the man. Then he knelt down and shut his father’s eyes. Dave stood back up and marched toward the car, and hopped in, causing the car to transform just like him. The car booked it, full speed, in reverse, and slid around with a quick J-turn. Now facing the correct way, the car lunged forward, bolting with a blistering speed. The front and rear plates both popped off, as if on command, and fell by the entrance to the drag strip. The Spirit of Vengeance was now set free upon the night.

The people of Canterlot High were all numb after the events of the previous night. The Bitch had just wiped a whole family off the map. The students had their run-ins with magic, but at least that magic hadn’t killed anyone yet. But the will of one woman, one, nonmagical, woman managed to do what magic couldn’t. And did it two hundred times better, in a single night. Of a family of two hundred fifty one people, only one got out alive. It was suspected that there was four people involved in one husband/father’s death. They killed the father, then one of the four supposedly killed the other three and burned their bodies. The one member of the family who lived? A boy who was a student at CHS. A boy by the name of David Kaufman. Both he and his father were known motor heads, taking up hobbies in everything from drag racing to amateur grand prix racing. His father was a twenty time, Pro Nitrous drag racing champion. David looked like he was going to follow in his father’s footsteps, starting his driving career off with four wins of his own. Now his future was uncertain, with no one to guide him into adulthood.

No one was even sure they’d see the poor boy again. Not even the teachers could focus enough to get work done that week. A majority of the week was spent as day long therapy sessions, where each class would just sit and talk about the good memories they had with David. They couldn’t believe it took them this long to realize how genuinely nice he was. He always held the door for people, never threw a fit. He never asked for appreciation for it either. He just enjoyed seeing people happy, and tried his best to brighten people’s day; though he wasn’t overbearingly energetic like Pinkie Pie. Now the school felt a little emptier.

Which is why everything was shaken up when a metaphorical ghost walked into the school, revealing himself two weeks after the incident. His usually happy face was dead looking, with depressed rage painted all over it. His posture, his demeanor, his gate; everything but the style of his clothes had seriously changed. His usual lax posture was now ram rod straight, with shoulders held firmly back. His casual strolling had turned into long strides of purpose and intent. Upside, he looked a little taller. Downside, people rushed out of his way like they were staring down a moving freight train. He was a bit more on the irritable side, making cynical/sarcastic remarks often in conversation. That is, when he would decided to talk at all.

His knack for a sharp tongue came to show when Sunset bumped into him. She was pulling things from her locker, getting ready to leave for the day. She grabbed her bag and made for the doors. She lingered close to the lockers on the right side of the hallway, which had several adjoining halls running up its length. She collided with him head on as he popped out from one of the adjoined halls. In fairness, it was mostly her fault. She was lingering a little too close to the wall, so there was no way he could’ve seen her until he stepped out into the main hall. Sunset shook her head and looked up at him. Upon realizing who it was, and seeing his startled gaze, she immediately started to apologize. Rather profusely apologize.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry!” She started. “I was too close to the wall. I should’ve been more careful. I’m- Just so sorry about that.” Dave rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, calm down.” He ordered. “If that’s your reaction to a minor accident, I don’t want to see what you’d do if you accidentally cracked someone’s head open.” He turned and began walking toward the doors with his bag over his shoulder.

“Jesus, fuck me, what a response.” He remarked sarcastically. Sunset blinked, feeling a little insulted by his comment. But then something hit her. She hadn’t gotten any flashes off him. She jogged up behind him and grabbed him by the wrist. She found herself not only being partially dragged through the hall as Dave slowed to a stop, but grabbing his arm like a doofus as absolutely nothing happened. “What the-?! I’m fine, so please don’t apologize anymore!” Sunset stared at him quizzically for a few seconds. Why weren’t her abilities working on him? He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, tearing her from her deep thought.

“Hello? Why are you clinging to me like a man on a sinking ship?” He asked. Sunset let him go and her face flushed with embarrassment.

“I-It’s not important. Sorry for bothering you.” She apologized. Dave’s face turned into a deadpan stare.

“What did I just say about apologizing again?” He asked. Before she could answer he turned and shook his head in annoyance. “God, if I hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ again today, I’m gonna slam my head in a car door.”

“-And that’s pretty much what happened.” Sunset explained. She and the gang were all gathered around a table at sugar cube corner, with the other girls listening to her recanted tale of the phantom boy.

Rainbow kicked back in her chair and raised and eyebrow. “Sheesh… Talk about a hard-ass.” The other girls nod.

“I get why he’s so angry all the time. But that really ain’t no excuse to snap atcha.” Applejack said in her southern drawl.

“I’ve spoken with him a few times.” Fluttershy said quietly. “He’s, um, very blunt, to say the least.” Rarity scoffed.

“Oh, you would BELIEVE how uncouth he is.” She flared. “I accidentally sprayed him while applying some perfume, and he started coughing and gagging like he’d been sprayed by a skunk!”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s a normal response to getting perfumed outta no where.” Rainbow deadpanned. Rarity hmph’ed and crossed her arms.

“Well, he could’ve made less of a show of it.” She muttered.

Pinkie sighed. “Yeah, he’s become a real downer.” She deflated. “Like, when I threw him that welcome back party after school. He never even showed.” Twilight sighed.

“Pinkie, his whole family just died. Not even you would be in a partying mood after that.” She postured. Sunset growled and shook her head.

“You guys are missing the point!” She snapped. “I mean, yeah, he was a little harsh. But that wasn’t what I was getting at. I’m more concerned with why my abilities didn’t work.” Rarity leaned forward and placed a hand onSunset’s shoulder.

“Oh, relax darling.” She spoke in a soothing tone. “It’s magic. You’ve said it yourself, we have no idea how it works. It’s probably just some… hiccup. There’s no need to fret.” She eased. Sunset sighed and smiled tiredly.

“You’re right…” She said defeatedly. “Sorry for getting all worked up. It’s just a little weird is all. I guess the whole encounter put me on edge.”

“Well, ya. It’s not everyday someone bitches you out just because you said sorry.” Rainbow remarked.