Let Them Eat Vengeance

Rainbow Dash was out on the soccer pitch after school. She frequented the field often, but this time she was by herself. She was practicing her kicks in the hopes that she might get an extra edge on the Shadow Bolts. After she sunk another goal in the net she ran over to get the ball. She dribbled the ball a bit, then paused when she spotted a tall figure walking down the sidewalk nearby the field. She’d recognize that neat brown hair anywhere. Dave Kaufmann. He was carrying his bag over his shoulder like usual, with a dead-soul look in his eyes, as per usual. She marched over to the edge of the field and glared at the back of the man’s head.

“You!” She hissed. Dave turned around and raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!” Dave responded with a thumbs up and turned around to keep walking.

“Hey!” She shouted. He turned around and looked at her again, looking slightly more annoyed than before. “I said, I have a bone to pick with you, asshole!”

“Oh, I heard you.” Dave informed. “But I ain’t about to ask you why.” He said with a shake of his head.

“You were really rude to Sunset!” She barked.

Dave deadpanned and gave her another thumbs up. “Cool story, bro.” Rainbow growled.

“Do you even care?! You used to be super chill!” Rainbow scolded. Dave nodded and pointed at the air behind her.

“You see that?” She glanced between him and the direction he was pointing. Dave slowly dragged his finger across the air, making Dash turn even further to see what she thought was a moving object.

“No, where? What am I looking for?” She asked. Dave lowered his finger and nodded.

“Those are my fucks. They just flew away.” He quipped dryly. Rainbow’s eye twitched.

“Oh-ho-ho!” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at Dave even harder. “So you think you’re being cute?” Dave shrugged.

“I thought I was being facetious, but whatever.” He remarked. Rainbow raised an eyebrow at him, looking a bit confused at what he’d said.

“Fa-what now?” She questioned. Dave held up a finger and reached over for his bag. He unzipped it and reached inside. He pulled out a small book and looked over at Rainbow Dash.

“Catch.” He muttered. He tossed the book over to her, and she snagged it out of the air. Upon looking at the cover she realized it was a dictionary. “The word is facetious. Look it up.” Rainbow flipped the book open and turned to the F section of the book. The word was right at the beginning of the section, with the rest of the words that started with the letters Fa. She read the definition and glowered at Dave.

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.” She grumbled. Dave sighed.

“Come now, don’t look so mirthful.” He said sarcastically. Rainbow flipped the book open again, but before she could find it he continued. “You don’t look the overzealous type. Though, you do have a bit of zeal about you. Perhaps you could benefit from some leisure time.” Rainbow paused, slammed the dictionary shut and shook her head.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you!?” She snapped. Dave smirked and chuckled.

“Hey, she finally gets it!” He jested. Rainbow threw the book at him. It landed on his chest with a smack, making him flinch a bit. The book fell from his chest into his open hands, and he stuffed it back in his bag.

“I could kick your ass right here on the soccer field.” She said through gritted teeth. Dave zipped up his bag and looked her square in the eye.

“Yeah, but you won’t, though.” He commented. Rainbow cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, yeah? What make’s you so sure?” She asked. Dave rolled his eyes.

“Because the principle is standing right behind you.” He informed. He glance over her head, making her flinch and turn around sheepishly. She quickly realized that no one was there, and when she turned back around she saw Dave walking away. Rainbow gritted her teeth.

“I’ll show you.” She grumbled. She grabbed her soccer ball, placed it on the ground, and lined up her shot. She hooked the ball into the air with her foot, sending it soaring in Dave’s direction. The shot looked like it was going to nail Dave square in the back of the head… Until he stepped off the curb. The ball, narrowly missing its target, was now on a direct course for the parking lot. She winced as the ball harshly bounce off the hood of a blue Honda Civic Type R. More specifically, her Honda Civic Type R. She flinched as the car alarm started going off, and let her shoulders sag with defeat. “Awe, man. So not cool.”

She jogged off the field to go get her keys from the locker room, and when she came back minutes later, Dave was gone from sight. She jogged over to her car and examined it. There were no dents, but the ball had scuffed the paint job a bit. She groaned. Now she was going to have to buff that out when she got home.

Dave stepped through the door of his home and dropped his bag beside the door. The silence of the home was oppressive. Not a sound could be heard anywhere. Not in the den. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. Dave had only been aloud back into his home a few days ago, after the crime scene cleanup crew had finished their job. Dave wasn’t aware of the incident that had occurred here, until he pulled up outside the next day. His poor mother had been home alone. She died with no one but the savage thugs around her. Dave only realized how much he’d lost later on in the day, when the police informed him of the death toll. Being eighteen, he was too old to be put into the foster care system. Of course, being the only survivor meant he was the sole inheritor of everything his family owned. Their money. Their belongings. Even their life insurance payouts. A rather insensitive lawyer had told him he was set for life. But none of this soothed David in any way. He still had to pay for the funerals, and the burials. And their money & belongings only served to remind him of the fact that he was all alone.

The funeral/burial was three weeks away. He decided to buy them all a tomb to bury them all together. But for now, it was just him and the house. He shut the front door behind him, and just stood there like a statue. He lingered there, standing still as a statue, unblinking, for what had to be fifteen minutes. A whole flood of memories and emotions had consumed him, and he was still trying to process it all. Finally he blinked, and he made a right hand turn. He cut through his living room and made his way over to a small, three stair, staircase. He stepped down slowly, entering into his families den area. The walls were covered in stained wood panels, with dark green carpets and a hardwood ceiling. A couch and recliner sat in the middle of the den, facing a wall where a jumbo TV sat.

This room was a particularly strong source of grief for him. It’s the room his mother had finally passed in. Her struggle began in the kitchen, which was connected to the back of the living room. Her torture started there, but she momentarily managed to break free, and ran into the den through the living room. There she was caught once again, and her suffering continued until she met her climactic end with a gunshot wound to the head. Dave felt his face grow hot. The mental images of his mother being defiled and murdered drove his rage through the roof. He glanced at a door at the back of the den. He slowly strolled over and opened the solid wood door. The next room was a stark contrast to the one before it. It was mostly unfinished, with concrete floors and open fiberglass insulation wedged between wood supports.

This was the garage. His mother must’ve fled to the den in the hopes that she could escape through here. The garage was large for the house, with taller-than-usual-ceilings, and a wide open floor space. The Mustang Dave had procured was up on a hydraulic lift, and secured down with heavy duty straps. The rear axle and differential had been removed, leaving the rear end without wheels. Using the knowledge he acquired while working on dragsters with his father, Dave was upgrading the Mustang to his liking. He noticed two things while driving this car, immediately. One was the power delivery, and the other was the rear end’s tendency to break loose. He knew exactly why this was happening.

While Mustang’s were good sport/muscle cars, there was a reason they were so cheap and available. To keep costs low, they used old technology for the rear setup. The old style differential made for uneven power delivery. On top of that, they still used solid rear axles. This meant your tires were not only giving uneven torque to the asphalt, but if one tire hit a bump, the other one would be affected as well, leading to spinouts. This was an easy fix, if you knew what you were doing. The obvious solution was to install an IRS(Independent Rear Suspension) system, and throw on a limited slip differential. After all, he was going to need all the performance he could get out of this thing. He’d already finished removing the rear axle, and now he just had to finish the installation of the rear setup. This minor pause in his plans weren’t troublesome in the least to Dave. It gave him time to learn more about his new body. He’d be all the more ready when the time came to go on the hunt.

A pair of drunkards stumbled their way down Canterlot Ave, passing dozens of closed shops. One was tall, and the other was short. The tall man had a weak chin, and a sour face. His hair was greying, and his face was wrinkled. He wore blue jeans and brown work boots on his lower half. His upper half was covered by a white tee shirt, and brown leather jacket. The short man, who was clearly younger, had a more prominent chin. His face, his hair. He had an over all more youthful appearance. He wore white sneakers and black sweat pants on his lower half. His torso was covered by a grey hoodie. The young one was singing a sloppy, merry tune as he tried to walk straight line. Meanwhile the older gentlemen seemed a bit aggravated.

“Shudup, kid.” He grumbled. The young man grumbled.

“Aw, Benson.” He teased. “Benson, Benson, Benson. What’s got you in a bad mood now, huh?” Benson rolled his eyes.

“You, Joseph. The answer is you.” He remarked.

Joseph chuckled. “Why you gotta be like this, man?” He asked. “Look, we just got paid by Alexus-”

“Alison, Jo. Her name’s Alison.” Benson grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever- Look, the point is,” Jo licked his lips. “The point is that we made some serious bank with that job, alright? And all we had to do was kill some kids.” Benson turned and shushed Jo.

“Would you be quiet?! Don’t go saying that so loud.” Benson scolded.

“Oh, piss off. No one’s here to hear us.” Jo commented. A loud, guttural sound echoed through the air. Making the two drunks look around in confusion. “The fuck was that?” Benson shrugged.

“Probably some wacko who had his radio too loud.” Benson commented. The air echoed with the sound of heavy, raspy, deep breathing. It sounded almost like a large animal. The pair glanced up the street, in the direction of the sound, and spotted someone a block away. He was wearing all black, and he had a hood up, shrouding his face in darkness. From where they stood, they could make out the glistening of metal studs on his gloves, and the height of his boots. Jo squinted at the man as he walked in their direction.

“The fuck- Is he the one making all this noise?” Jo asked.

“Looks like it.” Benson confirmed.

“Oi! Crackhead!” Jo shouted. “You need a doctor or somethin’?!” The man didn’t respond. He just kept his head down and marched closer toward them. They could see the misting of the man’s breath as the drew closer. Both men had realized how cold it had gotten, but thought little of it. The man in black stopped about forty feet away from them and just stood there, staring. Breathing. They were so drunk, neither of them noticed that there was far to much volume and echo on the breathing. Benson squinted and took a step closer to the man.

“Hey, buddy? You alright?” He asked calmly. The mans hands slowly reached up to the edges of his hood, and he lifted it back with a sudden jerk. Under that hood, now in the pale glow of a streetlight, was a titanium white, pockmarked, furious looking skull. The eye sockets were black and hollow, and seemed to go one endlessly on the inside. It stared at the men, who didn’t seem all that off put by it at first. But they slowly began to realize that this skull was way too detailed to be fake. It continued making those deep, animal like breathing noises, puffing steam out from its vacant nasal passageways. Jo pulled a nine millimeter out from his hoodie pocket, and fired a shot at the thing. They watched as the clothing on center mass ruffled, and saw a puncture hole where the bullet had hit the chest. The skeletal being didn’t even flinch. Instead, its sockets narrowed, and two small points of light formed somewhere deep within the black abyss of its eyes. Their faces turned pale, and their stomachs dropped. In a bright yellow flash the skeletal form caught fire, sending a small mushroom shaped plume up into the air above its head. The two men flinched at the sudden appearance of the ball of fire, and stared wide eyed at it for a few moments longer. Fire licked the air through the hole in his clothing, twirling and flickering before the hole patched itself up.

Benson and Jo watched its chest puff out as it took a deep breath, and watched its head surge forward as it let free an ungodly, ear splitting roar. Benson and Jo covered their ears and turned to run, only to nearly run into a black Mustang. They had no clue how the machine had gotten there, but they watched as it kicked on, and the bright green headlamps flickered to life. The two saw the burning man approaching, and tore off around the car with Jo taking the left side of the car, and Benson taking the right. The driver’s side door swung open, nearly taking out Jo. He briefly glanced inside, and gawked at the empty cab. He broke free of his trance, and began running after Benson. Jo, being much younger, managed to catch up to and pass Benson with ease. Meanwhile Benson was almost out of breath.

The burning man walked up to the open door of the Mustang, and the flame around his skull extinguished as he ducked inside. Upon shutting the door, the car caught fire. The vehicle lurched forward and spun around one hundred eighty degrees, leaving burning tire trails on the pavement. It took off after the fleeing duo. As Benson leaned up against a car, trying to catch his breath on the left side of the road, the Mustang bolted up along the right. The front wheels turned sharply to the left, sending the car into a tailspin. A tailspin which ended with Benson being sandwiched between the cars. The sound of crunching bone was drowned out by the sound of shrieking metal, and breaking glass. The Mustang pulled forward, scraping along the side of the other car and further mangling Benson in the process. With his pelvis and lower ribs smashed, there was little to stop his exploded intestines from spilling out onto the ground. Benson collapsed into a pool of his own blood and guts, and fruitlessly tried scooping the innards back into place. The Mustang showed no physical damaged from the incident, with only a red smear painted across the right side paneling. The red smear caught fire and burned away like gas.

The Mustang reversed, backing over Benson’s head. His skull pancaked under the vehicle’s weight, and half his head caught on fire, searing the flesh black. As Benson’s corpse burnt to a crisp, the Mustang reversed as fast as it could. It rear ended Jo, knocking him flat on his face. Jo tried to get up and run, but he felt resistance from his left leg. He looked back, and saw his foot tangled up in the under carriage of the car. He tried to wiggle free as the car idled there for a moment, but he’d gotten it quite thoroughly wedged into the car. A clunk from the transmission was all Jo needed to hear to make his stomach drop. The engine roared and the car surged forward. Jo screamed as the car began dragging him across the rough asphalt. He shrieked and cried as he felt the road tearing up his stomach and hands. It was worsened by the fact that the driver of the vehicle wasn’t even trying to drive in a straight line, dragging him left and right across the road. The swerving had sent one of Jo’s arms into one of the fire trails behind the car, catching his hoodie sleeve on fire.

Jo screamed as he shook his arm, trying to put it out. The Mustang did yet another tail spin, and Jo finally became dislodged from the car. Unfortunately the force at which he was thrown sent him flying, a little over a foot and a half above the ground. He slammed into a fire hydrant going thirty miles and hour. His face sunk in on impact. His neck gave out, letting his head crumple back against his mid spine. His ribs were beyond smashed as his torso collapsed accordion style from the top down. Then finally he rag dolled to the curb, where he finally came to rest. The fire slowly crept its way up his sleeve, gradually consuming him as the Mustang sped away.

Dash sang along to the music as she pulled up to the school parking lot. The sound of Slash playing with Myles Kennedy and The Conspirators worked in great combination with her singing voice. At least, she liked to think so. Mind Your Manners was, and still is, her favorite. The radio shut off as she pulled the keys from the ignition. She grabbed her bag and got out of the car. She found herself quietly singing the rest of the song as she walked through the front doors and over to her locker. She gave a certain tall asshole a back-of-the-head glare as she passed, but she could help but notice that he was in a better mood than usual. He didn’t look as mad, and he was even quietly listening to music at his locker. She still didn’t like him, but she was hoping that his dickhead behavior was coming down. She stopped in front of her locker and dialed the combination. 38, 4, 18. The lock clicked open. She opened the door and took her school bag off. She began unloading stuff she didn’t need for the morning into her locker. She paused when she felt her left butt-cheek vibrating. She reached back and grabbed her phone. It was from Twilight. There was a link to a news article and nothing else. Rainbow groaned. Twilight had lectured her the importance of keeping up with current events before, and she figured it was her way of trying to force Dash into doing it.

It was ironic, considering Twilight was also someone who was quick to point out lies and over exaggeration in mainstream media. Rainbow was about to shut her phone of, until she read the headline on the article.

‘Two men dead in southern Canterlot, police describe grizzly…’ The headline ended there, as there was no more room for the text. Dash tapped on the notification and unlocked her phone. She was directed to a local news source, and immediately began reading the article.

“Two suspected mafia members were found dead on Canterlot Avenue by police at six O’clock this morning. The police described a grizzly scene of two mangled and burned bodies, one basically wrapped around a fire hydrant, the other mangled after being crushed against a car. No suspects have been confirmed-” The first paragraph read. Rainbow blinked.

“Yikes.” She muttered. “Thanks Twilight.” She said sarcastically. She shut her locker.

Alison’s eyebrows briefly shook hands as she stared at the man before her. “What do you mean Benson and Joseph are dead?” She growled. She was leaned back against her desk with her legs crossed. Her arms were folded across the chest of her zebra print pencil dress. Jacobs gulped.

“I just got the call from the Police Department. They said someone killed them last night.” He pulled on his tie and clear his throat. “It wasn’t pretty, from what they told me.” Alison’s eyebrows reached for the sky as she lowered her chin to stare down Jacobs.

“Let me guess. Burned?” She asked.

Jacobs looked and the floor with a solemn expression on his face. “And then some.” He confirmed. Alison slammed her hand down on the table and stood up.

“Dammit!” She swore. “Who the hell thinks they have the balls now?! First Harrison, Jake and Larry, and now Benson AND Joseph too?! The fuck is it with these people?!” She seethed. She paced around the room for a moment, then rounded on Jacobs once more.

“Who did it?” She asked with a fire in her eyes. Jacobs put his hands up and shook his head.

“They got no leads yet.” He imparted. Alison stood there, staring with disbelief for a moment. She clicked her tongue and grabbed her wine glass off the table. She took a big gulp, downing the last of the crimson liquid, before hurling the glass at a wall across the room.

“FUCK YOU!” She screamed at the wall. Jacobs backed away. He knew this was bad. She was having one of her tantrums again. “FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!!!!” She shrieked. She rampaged through the room, sending papers across the room, flipping her desk over, and even knocking over a filing cabinet. Once the cabinet was on the ground, she began kicking it with her thick heeled, knee high leather boots.

“Fuck this town!” She screamed as she kicked the cabinet. “Fuck its people!” She kicked the metal cabinet again.

“And FUCK-!” She gave the cabinet once hard kick, rolling it over in the process, “The Police Department! Useless cunts!” She snarled. She wheeled around and pointed a shaky finger at Jacobs, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Call them back, RIGHT NOW! RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, and tell them I! WANT! A LEAD! And they better make it snappy! Got it?!” She hissed. Jacobs nodded and quickly walked out of the room. Alison looked around at the trashed room and took a few deep breaths.

“Fuck.” She swore under her breath. “I gotta stop this. I’m not going back to living like a peasant. But, how do I stop this?” And so began her long day of planning in the hopes she could end her opposition once and for all.