Life on the Murder Scene

Chapters

Octavia (So Long and Good Night)
Give 'Em Hell, Kid
To the End
You Know What They Do to Mares Like Us in Prison
I'm (Not) Okay, I Promise
The Ghost of You
The Apathetic Life is Gonna Kill You

Octavia (So Long and Good Night)

Funerals are fucking stupid. Thank Celestia I won’t be alive to see my own.

I take a puff of my cigarette, watching as the smoke drifts out my mouth and into the dry desert air. In front of us, a crowd of mourners gathered around a coffin—a stain of black in a sea of green.

Grass is fucking stupid. Only place it’s good for is a baseball outfield. It sure as hell doesn’t belong in the desert. But for some fucking reason, they decided to put a grass fucking field in a cemetery.

The pastor’s voice is mostly lost in the wind, but I still hear bits and pieces of his spiel. Asking that Luna guide the soul to safety, or some crap like that. I never believed in, and neither did he.

“Raindrops, dear, are you alright?”

My ear twitches at the voice, and I grimace. “Yeah, I’m fan-fuckin-tastic, Tavi. Absolutely aces. Couldn't be better.”

She sighs. “If you’re going to speak, be a dear and at least face me.”

I stick the cigarette back in my mouth and turn to look at her for the first time. Octavia’s wearing a black suit coat with a pink bow tie—makes her fit right in with the rest of the mourners, although she doesn’t seem too bothered by the heat. Don’t know how she pulls it off. Then again, I don’t know anything about her anymore. She takes off her sunglasses, her purple eyes boring a hole into me.

I snort. “That shit doesn’t work anymore, Tavi.”

She lets out a low ‘hm.’

Something nudges me from my right. I flinch and turn. Apple Fritter frowns at me. She hates it when I swear. Too fucking bad, I think. I don’t say it though. “Look, Fritty, I’m fine.”

Apple Fritter raises an eyebrow. Unlike Octavia, she’s just wearing her usual work clothes coupled with a white stetson. I don’t even know if she owns any formal clothes.

Fritter keeps giving me a weird look though. I sigh. “What? What do you want me to say?”

“Raindrops, she’s merely concerned, as am I,” Octavia says. “I know that Fading’s friendship meant a lot to you.”

He hated that name. Almost as much as I hate mine. “Yeah, sure.”

Apple Fritter shakes her head. She starts waving her hooves through the air—Equestrian Sign Language. I raise an eyebrow as I watch her hooves flail around. I know a few words from hanging out with her, but she’s still moving too quickly for me to keep up.

Octavia nods and signs something back. They go back and forth for a few seconds, leaving me clueless. I grunt and flick my tail. “Talking behind my back? You wound me. I’m right here, you know.”

“Yes, dear,” Octavia says flatly. She flashes a few more signs at Apple Fritter before turning her attention back to me. “We’re just concerned for you, that’s all.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a hiss. “I know, I know.” She’s right; they’re looking out for me. It’s not fair to take all this out on them. I’m still fucking pissed, though.

When I open my eyes, Apple Fritter’s reaching into her saddlebags. She pulls out her blackboard and a piece of chalk and scrawls out a message. “Don’t lie. You’re not okay.”

Ouch. Apple Fritter might be a mute, but damned if she isn’t observant. “Who the fuck are you to decide that?”

Octavia puts a hoof on my shoulder. “Raindrops, this isn’t about making us happy. We know you. Stop deflecting and tell us what’s wrong.”

I take a puff of my cigarette again. “There’s nothing wrong! One of my best friends is dead, okay? Excuse me for having a hard time dealing with this. And wait, since when did you give a shit about my life? I don’t know what the fuck you even do nowadays.”

“And why should that matter?” Octavia shoots back.

“Yeah? Now look who’s deflecting,” I spit back. “Fucking hypocrite.”

“What is your problem?” writes Fritter.

I sigh, taking another puff of my cigarette. “No. There’s no problem. Just trying to process why one of my friends was shot to fucking death in an alleway outside a convenience store.”

“You’re upset. I understand,” Octavia replies.

“Well, aren’t you a mare of many deductions. How long did it take you to figure that one out?” She doesn’t understand. Nopony else can. It’s not that Fading Light was my friend. It’s not that I have nothing to my name and nothing to live for. It’s that if anything, I was supposed to die before him, because he was someone and I was no one.

I spent a lot of time talking to Fading. He had a wife and a daughter. Me? I’ve got no family that gives a shit about me, nopony who relies on me, and no reason to keep living. I should have died. Not him. Never him. “Fucking useless,” I mutter.

Apple Fritter’s ears fold down. My own ears twitch, like they wanted to follow hers. “Look, I know you guys are just trying to help. Thanks for that. I just… need to figure out how to deal with this.”

Octavia nods, though her eyebrow stays raised. “Of course. And should you ever need us, we’re here.”

I manage to give them a smile. “Yeah. Thanks.” Even as I say those words I feel something brewing inside of me.

She takes a deep breath and glances at the sky. “Well, I suppose we should get going. Will you be staying for a while longer?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Very well. So long then, Raindrops,” Octavia says.

“Good night,” I answer. I watch as they walk away and turn back to the grave. I walk towards it, not making eye contact with anypony. Most of the mourners are dispersing now, anyway. The smile slips away from my face.

I find a unicorn mare standing next to the grave, wearing a black dress and veil. Underneath the dress, her body’s wrapped in bandages. Guiding Light is a widow now. She looks up as I approach.

Guiding dries her eyes with the back of her hoof. “Raindrops,” she croaks, her voice hoarse. “I was wondering if you’d come.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure myself,” I reply.

Guiding nods. “I guess you’re going to need a new drinking buddy,” she offers.

I chuckle at that. “I guess so. It’s gonna be hard to find someone else who can keep up with me though… I’m really sorry, Guiding.”

She sighs and falls silent for a bit.

I have to pick my next words carefully. “Guiding… can you tell me what happened?”

Guiding wipes her eyes again and gives me a small, knowing smile. “No, Raindrops. I know what you’re thinking. The Marshal’s Office is already carrying out their investigation. I’d prefer to let them handle it.”

“Look, Guiding, I like those guys, but you and I both know how busy they are,” I argue. “Think about all the crap they’re up against. Vultures, Foundry, those Cactus Brigade fuckers. They’re overworked as is.” Guiding hesitates, and I take my chance. “Please, Guiding. Let me do this. For Fading.”

Guiding bites her lip, and her eyes flicker to the grave. She’s conflicted. I start to regret pushing her like this, but I shove it aside. I need to do this.

“We were on our way home from the theater,” Guiding says in a quiet voice. “A group of ponies cornered us in the parking lot. Said something about getting revenge and how nopony disrespected the Vultures. Fading tried to calm them down, but then one of them tried to grab Bright…” her eyes flick to a young foal, hugging a stallion in a suit and crying. “That’s when Fading lost it. He drew his pistol and they… they…”

Guiding’s voice breaks as tears start streaming down her face again. I flinch, my eyes darting around for a few seconds, before my shaky hoof pats her on the back. Thankfully, somepony else—somepony more skilled at dealing with this sort of thing—notices and comes over to comfort her.

“I… didn’t get a good look at the attacker,” she chokes out. “They… said something about not disrespecting Dogma. That’s all I know.” She sobs into the blue pegasus’s chest. The pegasus glares at me and starts to lead her off.

As she leaves, she looks up at me. “Raindrops… please don’t do it. It won’t bring him back.”

I nod and watch as she’s taken away from the grave. I take the cigarette out of my mouth and toss it on the grass, stomping it out. I’ve heard the name Dogma before. Some high-ranking Vulture who runs the streets like it’s his own damn yard.

I look at the grave one last time and tip my hat at it. “So long, Faders. Good night.”

I spread my wings and take off into the sky, mulling on what Guiding said.

Somepony murdered Fading Light. I’m going to find them, then I’m going to fucking kill them.

Give 'Em Hell, Kid

The building where Twitch hangs out is a shitty little wooden hut on the edge of Lone Hill. The parking lot out front is filled with dusty Walers MA jeeps, packed with bags and tools. A few ponies are hanging around, smoking cigarettes and kicking at the dust. They call this place ‘the Mast,’ home of the Village Idiots.

They’re not professionals, but they make damned good allies. Assuming I can stay on their good side, but so far so good. Besides, with the rifle slung over my back and the pistols holstered at my sides I blend right in. The ones in the parking lot don’t give me a second glance as I land.

I give the door a good kick, and it bangs open. The pony behind the reception desk flinches, his eyes shooting up. “Oh. Sunshower Raindrops Merriweather,” he says bitterly. “You’re still alive.”

“Nice to see you too, Stellar Eclipse,” I shoot back. “Is Twitch here?”

Stellar scowls at me. “Strawberry Sunrise is busy. Now I’d like for you to leave, please.”

I roll my eyes. Stellar hates our nicknames. He thinks it makes us look unprofessional or something. What a fucking headass. Luckily, I don’t work for him, so I don’t have to listen to a single fucking thing he says. “Right. Come on now, is this any way to treat a fellow bounty hunter?”

He squints at me. “You’re much, much lower than a bounty hunter.” He gestures to the other two Village Idiots hanging out in the lobby. “I want her gone. Now.”

They take a step towards me before I hold up a hoof. “Hey now. Let’s not get hasty--”

“Stellar? What the buck are you doing?”

Everypony turns to the doorway, where a red-maned pegasus is standing. Twitch has a steaming cup of coffee in her hoof and cocks an eyebrow.

“Trying to get her out,” Stellar says, shooting me a glare.

Twitch perks up as she sees me. “Oh, hey Killjoy! You here on business or pleasure?”

I give Stellar the biggest shit-eating grin I can manage. “Business. You free?”

Twitch jerks her head back towards the door. “Always. Let’s talk.”

Stellar’s glare could probably melt an iceberg. I stick my tongue out at him as I follow Twitch into the hallway.

“I still don’t understand why you two can’t just get along,” Twitch mutters as she heads down the hall. She noses open a door and enters her office.

I laugh. “And I don’t know why you put up with that loser.”

Twitch sighs and shakes her head, taking a seat behind her desk. “What do you need, girl?”

I settle into the chair opposite of her. “Looking for intel on a Vulture named Dogma.”

Her right eye starts to twitch at the name, but it’s hard to tell what that means with her. There’s a reason her nickname is Twitch. “Dogma? Grade-A shithead, that guy. Why’re you after him?”

“Bounty. One of his goons killed somepony, I’m trying to bring him in. Plus, he’s on the EMO’s wanted list, so this is right up your alley.”

Twitch scrutinizes me over her coffee mug. “Right, but what brings you our glorious doorstep?”

I roll my eyes. She’s a bit of a braggart, but you get used to it after a while. “Nopony knows the area like you do.”

“Not wrong there.” Twitch frowns, setting her mug down on her desk. “I dunno, Killjoy. Do you even have any solid leads that Dogma’s in the Badlands? I don’t want to waste resources on this unless you’re certain.”

I sigh at that. Twitch is a good leader. She always looks out for her ponies. Unfortunately, that means she’s a little hard to persuade, and I really don’t feel like pleading with her right now. So, I use my trump card. “Hey, Twitch? You owe me one, remember?”

Her other eye twitches. She takes another sip of her coffee and sets the mug down on her desk before folding her hooves. “Ugh. So I do. You really want to call it in now?”

I nod without hesitation. Twitch sighs and shuffles some papers around. “Alright, fine. Let me see…” She opens a drawer in her filing cabinet and rummages through some folders. “Here we go. We suspect a few residences out here are Vulture safehouses, but no promises. Word on the street is that Dogma’s laying low because he pissed off his boss or something.” She goes to the map on the wall and taps her hoof on an area. “Here’s our best bet. I’ll grab some backup. Meet me in the parking lot.”

She holds the door open and lets me leave before disappearing deeper into the Mast. As I turn to head back towards the lobby, I hear the creaking of wheels and groan. Sure enough, Stellar Eclipse rounds the corner on his wheelchair. He freezes as he sees me and frowns.

“Sunshower,” he says. “On your way out, I hope?”

I grunt. “Why can’t you call me Killjoy like every other fucking pony here does? Or at the very least Raindrops. You know I hate that name.”

“You hate a lot of things,” Stellar replies. “So that doesn’t surprise me.”

We fall quiet after that. My ear twitches as someone laughs from down the hall. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll get going.” I move past him when he calls out to me.

“Wait, Sunshow—Killjoy.”

I pause, turning my head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Look, I don’t like you. I don’t like how you conduct yourself, I don’t like your recklessness, I don’t like your behavior. But… be careful out there.”

I raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Uh… yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Stellar nods and keeps wheeling down the hall. Since when did he ever give a shit about me? I shake off the thought and head out of the building. I can’t worry about that now. I’ve got a pony to kill.

The jeep jerks and bounces as it rumbles down the sandy hills. Twitch is driving, her eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses. I pull my bandana up over the face so I’m not eating dust. Wish these damned things had windows.

“Almost there,” Twitch shouts over the engine.

“Awesome,” I reply. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see another jeep behind us, with two more Village Idiots inside: an earth pony and a unicorn. Twitch insisted on bringing backup.

The jeep jolts again and we bounce up and down. The Badlands don’t have any paved roads, but these jeeps were designed for off-road usage anyways. Doesn’t mean they’re comfortable though. As I watch the cacti and sand dunes pass by, something sends a shiver down my spine.

I feel guilty again. I don’t know why, I haven’t even done anything yet. I don’t like lying to Twitch, but if I told her the truth, she would never go along with it. Octavia and Fritter’s faces suddenly flash through my mind. I see Fritter’s look of hurt and disappointment, and I see Octavia’s eyes piercing my soul, trying to figure me out.

I shake off the thoughts. We’re approaching the site now: a small wooden hut in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

Twitch pulls the jeep in front of the house, and the other jeep parks behind us. We group up and head towards the house, Twitch taking the lead. “Stay frosty. Let’s all make it home today.” She stands slightly to the right of the doorway and bangs her hoof on it. “Bounty hunters! Open up!”

There’s a shuffling noise from behind the door. “Whadya want?”

“Why don’t you open the door, and we’ll have a chat,” Twitch replies.

As I look around the front of the house, I suddenly realize how exposed we are. The entire area is flat and sandy, meaning there’s nowhere to take cover except for the jeeps. The house has the door and two windows facing us, and while it’s pretty small, we don’t know how many fuckers are inside.

In other words, this is shaping up to be a pretty shitty situation. Still, Twitch and her ponies are skilled in fighting out here, so we should be fine…

The earth pony Idiot shifts on his hooves, adjusting the strap on his rifle. The unicorn’s eyes start to wander, drifting from the house to the sky. Twitch bangs on the door again. “Just wanna talk!”

There’s furious whispering behind the door. Then there’s silence. Twitch shoots me a nervous glance and takes a half step back from the door. Our hooves slide to our pistol holsters.

The door suddenly explodes into shards of wood. If anypony was standing directly in front of it, that shotgun blast would have ruined them. Twitch and I take to the air and fly upwards, while the other two Idiots draw their guns and fall back.

“Well, shit,” Twitch grunts as she pulls out her rifle. “To the jeeps! Go!”

We make for the jeep as bullets whiz by us. I dive down into the dirt, rifle in hooves, before pressing my back against the jeep door. Twitch lands at my side. “Every fucking time! Every time we hang out, we get shot at!” she grumbles.

“Whatever, let’s break their knees!” I reply. I look over the top of the jeep to see a pony standing in the doorway, revolver in hoof. Both windows are shattered, and I spot two ponies in the right window holding guns.

The earth pony Idiot peeks over to try and get some shots off, but he’s met with a hail of bullets. He screams and falls backwards, clutching his foreleg in pain. “Fuck me!”

The unicorn curses and drops her gun to tend to him. She throws up a shield spell and starts helping him. “Pony down! Pony down!”

Twitch growls. “Fucking hell!”

The pony in the doorway is outside now, moving forwards while firing blindly. I pop out over the hood and fire. He screams and falls to the ground. “One down!” I call out.

“Drop your weapons and surrender!” Twitch shouts. The only answer is another burst of gunfire.

There’s a hiss as one of the tires takes a bullet. A Vulture runs out the door, heading to the pony writhing on the ground and screaming. A third Vulture lays down suppressing fire from the ground floor window.

“Yo, I’ll draw his fire,” Twitch calls out. “Heads up,” she shouts at the unicorn. “Heading to you!”

“Go!” I shout. Twitch bursts out of cover, making a beeline for the other jeep. She uses her wings to give her a boost, and the unicorn drops her shield briefly so Twitch can get in. The pony in the house follows her with his gun, giving me an opening.

I fire a burst from my rifle at the window, forcing the Vulture in the house to duck for cover, leaving his friends wide open. The second Vulture is dragging his wounded buddy back towards the house. I line up his head with my sights and fire. His head snaps backwards and he falls to the ground.

His buddy screams out and raises his revolver. He blindly fires a few shots in my directions but misses. I drop low to the ground, cover my head with my hooves. As I look up, I realize I have a line of sight onto him from underneath the jeep. I line up my sights and start shooting.

The Vulture collapses onto his back as two holes tear through his chest. A pool of red is staining the sand now. Finally, it’s quiet again. I get to my hooves, keeping my gun trained on the doorway. Third pony is still in there.

I glance at Twitch, who’s helping the unicorn with the downed pony. “Fuck’s sake, stop screaming! It just grazed you!” shouts the unicorn.

I roll my eyes and push up towards the house.

“Killjoy! What are you doing?” hisses Twitch. I ignore her and keep moving. I rear up on my hind legs and raise the rifle, keeping it trained on the window. Through the shattered glass I can see silhouettes of furniture, pressed up against the wall.

Aiming through the window, I notice shards of glass littering the floor, with trails of blood. The blood drops lead to a closed door on the other side of the room. I drop down to all fours and hop through the window.

The glass crunches under my hooves as I focus on the door. I do a quick scan but don’t see any movement. Alright, Dropsy. Nice and easy now.

I maneuver around a wooden chair and table, moving lightly on my hooves. I brace myself on the right side of the door, clenching my teeth and breathing heavily. “Come on out, before I start shooting!”

There’s some shuffling behind the door. Just as I extend my hoof to it, there’s the roar of a shotgun blast. I reflexively duck as the wooden wall just in front of me explodes open, sending splinters flying through the air.

Before I can recover, the door slams open and the last pony steps out. Dogma tosses his shotgun aside and pulls out a knife, snarling and charging me down. Before I can get a shot off, he tackles me, and I land hard on my back. The gun flies out of my hooves.

I scramble to get up again, but Dogma closes the gap quickly. He shoves me back down and stabs at my throat. I grab his foreleg with my own and growl, trying to keep the blade away from my neck. “Fuck you!” he spits.

I use my free hoof to deck him in the chin. He staggers backwards but doesn’t drop the knife. Just as I get to my hooves, he charges again. This time I’m ready for him. I dodge left as he slashes at me, grinning. “That's all you got?”

Before he can recover, I hit him again in the face. As I throw another punch, he blocks it with a foreleg. While he’s distracted, I throw an uppercut his way, connecting with his jaw.

I go in for another attack, but he jabs at me, hitting me dead in the eye. My vision blurs and I hiss in pain. Fucker, that one stings. Before I can refocus, Dogma decks me in the face again. The floorboards come up quickly to meet my face.

Fuck. I’m gonna be feeling that one in the morning. Can’t worry about that now though, not when Dogma’s still got his knife. I turn on my side just in time to register a shit-colored blur coming at me.

I raise a rear leg and kick him as hard as I can. The kick lands right in his face, sending some of his teeth flying out.

As he recoils backwards, I give him a good smack to the ribs.

Dogma doubles over in pain, and the knife finally clatters from his hooves. Another good hit knocks him to the ground.

I draw my pistol and press it into his forehead. “That’s e-fucking-nough of that shit.”

Dogma spits out blood. “What the fuck do you want, bitch?”

“You put a hit on Fading Light,” I say. “I want to know the names of the ponies who killed him.”

“Why the fuck do you care? That old shit deserved it!”

Fucker. I smack him across the face with the pistol barrel. “You want to play hard? Fine.” I grab his mane and drag him to the far end of the room.

“Argh! Bitch! Why do you give a shit about him?”

I bang the door open. A bathroom. Perfect. I toss him to the ground and grab his neck. “Last chance.”

“Bi--”

He’s cut off when I slam his head into the toilet bowl. “Look, fuckface, you either tell me what I want to know, or I’ll drown you in a toilet.”

His eyes widen. “You’re fucking crazy!”

“Yeah? Your point?”

I grab his mane again and get ready to slam. “Wait, wait! Look, that fucker didn’t give me a choice, alright? Fucking kicked me out of his shitty little restaurant and made me look like a foal in front of my boss!”

“I don’t give a shit! Who killed Fading?!”

“Fuck if I know! Look, I just told Lowball that I need him dead, and he said he’d grab some of the new guys and take care of it!”

I narrow my eyes and bash his head against the toilet bowl again. “Who the fuck is Lowball!”

“Argh! F-fuck! He’s my second! He’s in Dodge now, okay?! That’s all I know! I swear.”

I spit on him before bringing the butt of the gun to the back of his head. He smashes his head into the toilet bowl and crumples to the ground. “That’s how we do it on the murder scene, bitch.”

With a sigh, I straighten myself out and look in the mirror. My cyan mane’s a mess now, not that it was in a great state to begin with. Specks of blood stain my coat and jacket, and my right eye’s sporting a nice big bruise.

My ear twitches as I hear something in the doorway. I whirl around, pistol drawn.

“Fucking hell, Killjoy!”

I grimace and lower the gun as Twitch steps in. Her eyes widen when she sees Dogma sprawled out under me. Her lower eyelid starts bouncing. “What the fuck was that about?”

I shrug, holstering my gun. “He resisted.” I feel Twitch’s nervous eyes following me as I exit the bathroom. “I’m done with him. He’s all yours now--”

Twitch shoves me. I stumble, not expecting that.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Twitch shouts.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Why’d you push up by yourself? You could have fucking died!”

Why’s she so hostile all of a sudden? “So what? I handled it! Why are you getting on my case like this?”

Twitch jabs a hoof in my face. “I swear to fucking Celestia! You’re always like this! You don’t give a shit for your own safety or for anypony else’s!”

“Well, it’s not my fault that your pony got shot!”

“How the fuck was it not? I know you don’t give a shit about others, but Killjoy, do you even care if you die?!”

I recoil at the accusation before narrowing my eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

Twitch slams a hoof into her face. “Look, Raindrops, you might not give a shit about your own safety, but I do.”

“Do you?” I scoff. “Be serious. You’ve never given a shit about me.”

The words come out faster than I can stop them. Twitch’s lip trembles, but I have a feeling this time it’s because of me. But I don’t really feel guilty. Just tired. I grunt and turn away. “Just… do whatever. I’m going to go lie down in the jeep.”

As I pass through the doorway, I hear Twitch whispering under her breath, “... Damnit, Killjoy. Why are you like this?”

I hesitate and consider turning around to apologize. But I don’t.

…

Celestia damnit.

To the End

The Sparky Holster is a fucking shithole. The smell of alcohol almost suffocates me as soon as I walk in the door. There aren’t many ponies that’d be caught dead in a place like this. The beer is shitty, and the company is worse.

No way in hell I could get my rifle through the door. My pistol’s going to have to make do. The establishment doesn’t allow guns, but I can guaran-damn-tee you that at least half the ponies in this room are armed.

It’s busy as shit today. The room’s full of drunk, young ponies, trying to blow off steam and have a good time. It makes me fucking sick.

Twitch sits on my right, her hat resting on the countertop. She holds a bottle between her hooves, staring down into it. She hasn’t spoken to me since we caught Dogma.

Usually, she would have complained by now, since this is the fifth bar we’ve been to tonight. Her silence is actually starting to unnerve me. “So, uh, you see him?” I venture.

Twitch grunts. “We don’t even know what he looks like. The fuck do you mean?”

“Well, I have a--”

“I know, a plan. Your plan is just asking the bartenders if they know him. You’re a true tactician.” Twitch takes a gulp from her bottle. “Fuck me, that’s good. Seriously, why are you blowing all your bits on this?”

“For this bounty? It’s worth it.” I finally catch the bartender’s eye. The buffalo snorts and puts down his rag before approaching. “Hey there, Wind Spirit. I’m looking for a pony.”

Wind Spirit grunts. “Aren’t you always.”

I fish into my bag and pull out a sack of bits, dropping it on the table. “Pony by the name Lowball. You seen him?”

Wind Spirit narrows his eyes. He shoves the bag back towards me with disdain. “No. Not after what you pulled last time.”

I sigh. So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Fine. I pull out a second bag of bits and toss it onto the table.

Wind Spirit glares at the bits like they killed his parents. He sighs and scoops them towards him. “Orange earth pony by the pool table. Cutie mark of a number six pool ball.”

I flash him a smile and tip my hat. “Cheers.” I start to get up, but Wind reaches out and grabs my hoof.

“Whatever you do, do it outside,” he growls.

I nod, and he lets go. Twitch and I turn our attention to Lowball, who’s currently laughing his ass off at some stupid joke his buddy told. “Alright, game time.” Lowball’s clearly drunk off his ass, which means there’s an easy way to do this. Unfortunately, it’ll require Twitch’s cooperation.

“Hey, Twitch? You still single?”

Twitch almost spits out her beer. “What the fu--no. No. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not fucking doing it.”

I roll my eyes at her protests. “Look, we need to draw him out of this fucking bar. He’s drunk, not thinking straight, and probably hasn’t had a decent romp in weeks.”

Twitch scoffs. “How do you know that?”

“You kidding me? Look at that face! You think anyone’s going to shag with that?”

She blinks and grabs her bottle as her face turns redder than her mane. “Fucking do it yourself then.”

I raise any eyebrow. “Really? You’ve seen me try to flirt. You know how this ends.”

Twitch scowls, anger flashing in her eyes. “No. I’m not doing it.”

“Why the hell are you being such a hardass now?”

She takes a deep breath and sighs. “Killjoy, are we friends?”

I blink. “Uh, duh?”

“Then why are you lying to me?” She holds up a hoof before I can respond. “I know you. You don’t blow off hundreds of bits on a single bounty, and you don’t even take a bounty unless you have good intel. So why are you running around the desert like a madmare?”

I open my mouth, then shut it. She’s onto me. Didn’t think she’d figure it out so quickly. “Come on, Twitch. Trust me. Please.”

Twitch's lower eyelid starts bouncing again. She scowls, but her glare softens up a bit. “If I do this, you have to level with me and tell me the truth.”

“Deal. Hell, I’ll buy you drinks for a month if that’s what it takes.”

“Knowing you, you’d just buy me apple cider every fucking time.” With a grunt, Twitch finishes off her drink. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” We slide off our stools and make our way through the cloud.

Lowball closes one eye and sticks out his tongue as he grips the pool cue in his hooves. He rocks back and forth on his rear hooves before thrusting the stick forwards. The poor fucker misses the ball completely and falls forwards, slamming his chin into the felt. His buddies point and laugh at him, and he laughs along as he collects himself.

I give Twitch a slap on the flank with my wing and wink at her. “Go get ‘em, girl.”

Twitch rolls her eyes and starts fiddling with her mane. “How do I look?”

“Fine, just go! Get him to go to the alleyway across the street.”

She nods and takes a deep breath. Twitch plasters a confident grin on her face and walks towards him, hips swaying to the ambient music of the bar. She catches the eye of a few of the gang-bangers, who nudge each other and wiggle their eyebrows.

Twitch slinks over to Lowball’s side as he staggers to his hooves. She lets out a low purr, eyes running up and down his body. “Nice shot there, cowpony.”

“Thanks, darlin’. Comes with practice,” Lowball replies, smirking. He jerks his head backwards and the other goons grumble. Lowball’s claiming this one for himself. “Buy you a drink?”

Twitch gives him a sly smile. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you…”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it’d be my pleasure…” He tosses the stick aside and leads her off to the bar, out of hearing range. Twitch gives me one last glare over her shoulder before putting her mask back on.

I roll my eyes and make for the door. It’s all on Twitch now. A blast of wind scatters my mane as I step out into the night. Fucking cold at night.

I absently reach for my cigarettes and lighter. Glancing up at the sky, I notice some dark clouds on the horizon. Storm’s brewing. If I squint, I can spot some Storm Chasers zipping in and out of the clouds, prepping for rain. Why the fuck is it always raining out here anyways? Feels like some neo-noir bullshit if you ask me.

I exhale, letting the smoke drift up into the air. My thoughts go back to Octavia and Apple Fritter again. I never told them what I did for a living. Don’t plan on telling them either. But with all of this going on now…

That makes me frown. I don’t know how I’m going to face Fritty after this. She hates violence. How can she live like this? This whole place is a shithole of death and dying. Every single day ponies kill and get killed. Cops, Vultures, bounty hunters, Cactus Brigaders, regular ponies… it’s just how it is down here.

But she still hates violence. I just don’t get it. How can you be a pacifist in a world where everyone is out to hurt you?

I sigh. Apple Fritter deserves better. I wish I could give her… something. Tavi was always one to talk about a ‘better world.’ Actually, now that I think about it, she hasn’t talked about that in a long time.

What the hell does Octavia even do, anyways? She used to be a musician, but last time I checked she wasn’t with the Canterlot Symphony anymore. What does she play again? The cello? Double bass? Wait, is that the medium sized violin or the really big one?

Ah, fuck if I know. They all look the same anyways. I take another drag from my cigarette. What a fucking life I live. One of my friends is dead, one hates the very thing I do, one’s a fucking mystery, and… Well, shit, that’s all of them.

Except for Twitch. My eyes flick to the bar. She hasn’t come out yet. Twitch is right, we are friends. Makes me feel bad for lying to her like this. But Twitch believes in honor. She hates putting personal grudges before the job.

I promised her to tell the truth. Might have to break it. Wouldn’t be the first time I did. Sure won’t be the last. A noise makes my ear twitch. Looking up, I see a helicopter flying its regular patrol route. Squinting, I can barely make out the decals that identify it as a Marshal’s Office ‘copter.

Faders liked to say that we lived on ‘the murder scene.’ It’s a pretty accurate depiction, I think. The Marshal’s Office says that Dodge Junction is safer than ever now. Wish they’d tell that to ponies who get gunned down every single fucking day.

It’s going to take more than them to make a difference here. It’s going to take a helluva lot more than one fucking pony to change things. That’s why I gave up trying to change this place a long time ago. It isn’t ever going to change.

The bar door opens. Twitch walks out, a hungry Lowball staggering out behind her. Twitch smirks and points a hoof at the alleyway. Lowball grins and nods. Showtime. I put my cigarette out and back up into the shadows.

“Wow. Sounds like you’re good on your hooves,” Twitch is saying.

“That’s not all I’m good with, baby,” Lowball replies. I roll my eyes and sigh internally.

Twitch nods enthusiastically. “I bet you are. Come on, I don’t live far from here…”

I wait until she passes. Lowball staggers right past the doorway I’m hiding in, not even looking in my direction. I grin. “Hey, shitbag!”

He doesn’t have time to turn around before I slam into his side. Lowball cries out in shock and pain as his head smashes into the gravel. I pin him to the ground with my body weight and stick a hoof in his jacket.

I pull the pistol out of his shoulder holster and hoof it to Twitch. She glances up and down the alley and sighs. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll keep watch.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She nods and flies upwards.

“What the shit--who the fuck are you?!” Lowball cries out, hooves flailing.

I pull out my knife and press it against his neck. “Not important. Tell me what I need to know, and maybe I won’t break your legs. You carried out a hit on someone named Fading Light. Who’d you take with you?”

Lowball sneers at me, his initial shock quickly wearing off. “You think you’re getting away with this, bitch? I’ll hunt you down and fucking kill you!”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I stick the knife in my teeth and grab his right foreleg with my hooves. This one’s gonna hurt. I start bending it backwards, and I feel Lowball’s breath hitch.

“Argh--fuck! Bitch!” I can hear the fear creeping into his voice as he realizes what I’m about to do. Twitch says that I have a weird obsession with breaking ponies’ legs. It’s not my fault it’s effective.

I apply a little more pressure, and he starts slamming on the asphalt with his free hoof. “You’re fucking crazy!” If it weren’t for the knife in my mouth, I’d laugh at his panic. I keep up the pressure and he screams again. I can almost hear the satisfying crack already.

“Fucking wait, wait!” he yells. “What was that fucker’s name again?”

I let go of his foreleg with one hoof to holster my knife. “Fading Light. He pissed off your boss, threw him out of his restaurant. Any of this ringing a bell?”

Lowball grits his teeth. “That fucker? Tried to pull a fucking gun on me, so we smoked him.”

I grab his leg again. “Names, fuckface.”

“Rail Spike, Off Speed, and Clear Air!” he says. “But you’re never going to find them!”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. Who pulled the trigger?”

“The kid! Clear Air!”

I stick the name in my memory bank. “What do they look like?”

Lowball prattles off a list of descriptions. Coat colors, mane colors, cutie marks. Everything I need to hunt them down. That just leaves me with one last question: should I break his legs? Just for shits and giggles?

“Killjoy, you done? His friends are looking for him.”

I curse, glancing at the bar. Sure enough, the other Vultures are walking out now. They glance up and down the street, frowning and chattering amongst themselves. “Shit,” I mutter. “Well, if we lay low--”

“Hey! Over fucking here!”

I sigh. Fuck.

Their heads snap over to the alleway. They reach for their guns, but I’m faster. I whip out my pistol, still on top of Lowball. Before I can get a shot off, though, Lowball thrashes hard. I slip off of him and hit the ground.

A gunshot rings through the night, followed by screaming and shouting. The thugs are advancing on us now, pistols drawn.

I smash the butt of my pistol into Lowball’s forehead, and he crumples to the ground. More gunshots crack through the night. Bullets whiz by me, and I take to the sky, tumbling onto the roof next to Twitch.

“Took your sweet-ass time,” she grunts as she draws her own gun.

I grunt in response. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I got what I needed, let’s just get out of here.”

“You think they’re gonna let us?” Twitch asks sarcastically. Case in point, one of the thugs spreads their wings and flies up towards us, her buddies providing cover. We press our backs against the low wall lining the roof’s edge.

Glancing next to me, I spot an empty beer bottle some poor drunkard left behind. I grab it in my hooves and wait until the thug flies up over the wall. The bottle sails out of my hooves and her eyes widen. She throws up a foreleg, the bottle hitting it and shattering. While she’s distracted, Twitch and I spring up and open fire.

She screams and falls to the ground. Her body crashes down on top of some poor soul’s car. Hope they have insurance. We hit the deck again as bullets fly over our heads. “You see what I mean?” Twitch shouts. “Every single time we go out, we get shot at!”

Before I can reply, there’s the chirp of a siren. Great, the cops are here. “Drop your weapons!” shouts a voice from a loudspeaker.

The only reply is more gunfire. I risk a glance over the wall to see two Marshal’s Office cruisers parked on the road, throwing red and blue lights across the street. The cops are crouching behind their doors as the thugs rain hell on them. They might be outnumbered, but not for long.

“Now’s our chance,” I say, nudging Twitch. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What? And leave them behind?” Twitch asks in disbelief.

I roll my eyes. “Look, just because you’re in bed with the cops doesn’t mean that I am.”

Twitch scowls. “Fine! Go then. Run away. I’m staying behind to help them.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “You--I… Fine!” I can’t believe her sometimes. Her ‘moral code’ is such bullshit. I spread my wings and hop up, but before I can get far, I’m suddenly blinded by a white light.

“Marshal’s Office! Land immediately!” Fuck, I forgot about the fucking helicopter. The rotors are loud and clear now, as the giant metal machine bears down on me. Looking down, I see more blue and red lights speeding down the road. Some of the deputies are pointing at me and yelling.

I sigh, holstering my pistol and raising my hooves.

Fuck.

You Know What They Do to Mares Like Us in Prison

I stare at the mirror on the opposite side of the wall. A black-eyed, yellow pegasus with a fucked up blue mane stares back at me. I stick my tongue at whoever’s on the other side and cross my hooves.

I haven’t been in an interrogation room for over a month now. And here I thought I was on a good streak. Fucking deputies thought otherwise, I guess. I grunt, tapping my hoof on the metal table impatiently.

“Any fucking day now!” I shout out. There’s no response, as is per fucking usual with these guys. I roll my eyes and sigh, leaning back in my chair and staring up at the ceiling. Could be worse. At least I’m not hoofcuffed to the table this time.

Wonder where Twitch went. She’s got some sort of deal with the cops, so they usually don’t give her a rough time. Myself on the other hoof… yeah, can’t say I like working with pigs. But hey, money’s money, I guess.

The door finally opens, and two deputies stroll on in. The first’s a yellow earth pony wearing a brown stetson hat, and the second’s a young looking buffalo. Both are wearing the standard-issue brown jackets trademarked by the Marshal’s Office.

“Howdy,” says the hatted stallion. “I’m Deputy Braeburn, and this is Deputy Strongheart.” He flips through some papers in his binder. “You’re Raindrops?”

“Go by Killjoy,” I reply automatically.

Braeburn nods. “Reckon Ah can respect that. We had a few questions for you regarding Fading Light.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think I know about that?”

“Well, a fella named Dogma had a lot of things to say about you. How’s that eye, by the way? You don’t gotta be a detective to tell you’ve got a nice shiner goin’ on there.”

Shit. Sounds like they know what I did to him. “Look, he deserved it, alright?”

“We’re not arguing that,” Strongheart quickly cuts in. “In fact, we should be thanking you for bringing him to justice. But if you learned anything from him, that may assist us in our investigation--”

I wave my hoof around, cutting her off. “No. He didn’t tell me anything.”

A silence quickly falls over them as they glance at each other. “Alright,” Braeburn says. “Then why’d you go try and fight a bunch of Vultures then?”

“Unrelated incident,” I shoot back.

Strongheart frowns. “Can you elaborate?”

“Nope. Ever hear of a little thing called the Frontier Justice Act?” I smirk at that. I don’t remember who signed that little bill into action, but it’s been perfect for folks like Twitch and myself.

“That only applies when you were contracted to lawfully locate and if possible detain a suspect,” Strongheart says, “and when there is tangible evidence that this individual commits a crime.”

“The fuck you explaining it to me for? I know what it means! It also means that legally, you have no right to ask about my mission or my client!” I jab.

Braeburn raises a hoof warily. “Ma’am, calm down.”

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me! I’ll break your fucking legs!”

Another few seconds of silence pass. “... get that out of your system?” asks Braeburn, unfazed.

I grit my teeth. “Maybe. But look, I’m telling you. I didn’t get anything out of Dogma.”

Braeburn leans forwards and taps his hoof on his folder. “Look here, Killjoy. We know about the shit you do for your contracts, and we know you don’t like to play clean.”

Strongheart nods sadly. “The truth is you might be looking at an aggravated assault charge for what you did. None of us want that to happen.”

Well, now I know who’s the bad cop and who’s the good cop. Good to see that after all these years they’re still using the same fucking tactics. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Braeburn says. “If this gets on your record, you’d probably lose your license.” He flips open his folder and runs a hoof down a sheet of paper. “And accordin’ to what we got on you, this really ain’t a job you can afford to lose.”

“Low blow there, making fun of a mare’s financial state,” I grumble.

Strongheart nods sympathetically. “Killjoy, I know you must be upset right now, but we all want the same thing. We want to find whoever did this and bring them to justice. We want to do this the right way.”

They know I’m lying. I’m absolutely sure of that. But legally they can’t prove shit, and that’s what I’m banking on. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Strongheart sighs. “Killjoy, please listen. Getting revenge isn’t going to help you. If you know anythin’ at all--”

“No. Nothing.”

“... you know it’s illegal to lie to the police, right?” Strongheart asks. Her voice seems generally laced with concern. I nod, and she sighs. “Miss Killjoy, you walk a very strange path. I can only hope that you know where it leads.”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? And why is everyone giving me all this weird shit about my own personal safety? “Uh… thanks?”

Braeburn glares at me. “Listen here now. Don’t think you can hide behind that law forever. If Ah find out you’re hidin’ somethin’ from us, you better believe Ah’ll toss your ass in jail. Ah don’t think Ah need to tell you what they do to ponies like you in prison. Now, Ah’ll ask you again. Do you know anythin’ about who killed Fadin’ Light?”

I pretend to think about it for a second. Then, I close my eyes and stick my tongue out.

Strongheart sighs, disappointed. “Your loss, I suppose.”

They grill me for about another half hour before they finally let me go. It takes another half an hour to get all my stuff back from their inventory. Then, a burly deputy walks me out to the lobby. As the door opens, I blink in surprise, recognizing someone sitting in the waiting room. “Octavia?”

Octavia looks up at me and folds up the magazine she’s reading. “Oh, dear, what happened to your eye?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, fighting the urge to touch it. “How’d you know I was here?”

Octavia shrugs. “I heard a thing or two. Do you still live in that dreadful place on Pine Grove?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ll drive you home,” Octavia declares. With that, she leads the way out of the station before I can protest.

I chase after her, shoving my way past two browncoats. “Wait, answer the damned question. How did you know I was here?”

Octavia flicks her tail. She opens the door to a sleek four-door sedan and climbs into the driver’s seat. “I have friends in the Office,” she replies.

I roll my eyes as I hop into the passenger’s seat. As I glance at her, I suddenly realize that she’s got some pretty heavy bags under her eyes. Don’t think I’ve seen those before. I shake the thought off and go back to my question. “Friends who know about me?”

“Dear, everyone in the Office knows about you,” Octavia replies as she starts the car engine.

“Fair, I guess.” I fold my forelegs across my chest and lean back, taking in the car. “This is a nice ride. How’d you afford this?”

Octavia just gives me an exhausted smile and says nothing. She pulls the car out of the lot and onto the main road. “So tell me, what did you do to warrant a visit to the station?”

I shrug, glancing out the window. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding pertaining to your line of work, perhaps?”

I hesitate. How much does she know about what I do?

“Remember, I’m a musician, dear,” Octavia replies, never taking her eyes off the road. “It’s in my nature to hear things.”

I grunt at that. “Why are you being so intentionally vague?”

She laughs. “Oh, I simply enjoy it. I truly am close with some members of the Marshal’s Office. And you do have quite a reputation amongst them.”

“Yeah, tell me something I didn’t know.”

It used to be easier being a bounty hunter. I wasn’t around for the glory days, but I’ve heard a shit ton from the veteran Village Idiots and independents. Back in the day, the Marshal’s Office didn’t do a whole lot, and local sheriffs just looked the other way if you gave ‘em enough cash.

It’s a whole lot messier now, with new licensing rules and all that shit. Hell, a bunch of ponies are trying to get rid of us completely. Even if I don't lose my job to this, I might not have it next year regardless.

“Truly, Raindrops, what were you thinking starting a fight like that?”

I huff in annoyance. “Don't want to talk about it.” I reach over and turn on the car’s radio. My ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of guitar, drums, and singing. “... is this that new rock and roll crap? Damn, Tavi, didn’t know you were into this,” I laugh.

Octavia rolls her eyes and changes the station to a classical one, replacing the guitars with violins. “Co-worker,” she replies simply. “And don’t dodge the question.”

“What can I say? It’s work stuff. You wouldn’t understand,” I grunt.

“You underestimate me, dear,” Octavia shoots back. “And this isn’t related to a bounty, is it?”

My head whips around. Well, shit. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, dear, you’re smarter than that.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Look, the EMO isn’t going to do shit about this. Prison’s too good for these fuckers anyways. I want to make them hurt. I’m going to make them pay, Tavi.”

Octavia sighs again, shaking her head sadly. “Raindrops…”

“Don’t,” I spit. “I don’t want to hear it.”

My eyes are looking out the window, but I feel Octavia glance at me for a second. Eventually she turns her eyes back towards the road. The drive back up to Lone Hill is in silence.

Octavia pulls her car up to the curbside of my apartment building. I pop open the door and hop out. “Thanks for the lift, Tavi.” As I head towards the building, I’m annoyed to hear her turning off the car and opening her door. “Seriously?”

“I’m not quite done with you yet, dear,” Octavia replies, adjusting her suit coat as she shuts the door.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, don’t stay here too long though. Car like that’s going to attract the attention of every crook this side of Dodge.”

As I turn back towards the building, I spot a pegasus leap off the roof and dive towards a phone booth nearby. That’s never a good sign. I trot up the stairs and into the foyer. Octavia follows me to the stairwell, glancing about in disdain at the dismal state of the lobby. “I can’t believe you’re okay with living in this dreadful place.”

“I don’t need a condo,” I shoot back. “It’s all I can afford, anyways.”

We reach the third floor pretty quickly, and I dig my room key out of my saddlebags. I slam open the door and saunter on in. I hit the light switch with a hoof, and the overhead bulb flickers on to shine a light on my humble abode.

Octavia makes a weird noise from behind me. “You live like this?”

I look around the room, confused. What’s she on about? Maybe it’s the pizza boxes stacked up in the corner that I forgot to take out. Or the bookshelf that’s falling apart, because I don’t have the time or effort to fix it. Or the weird stain that’s on the carpet that’s either beer or urine… Celestia, I hope it’s beer.

I shrug and point a hoof at the side room I use for client meetings. It’s usually cleaner than everything else. “Have a seat or something.” I unsling my rifle and set it back in its gun rack, then unholster my pistol and put it on the table.

Octavia crosses the room delicately, making her way over to the table. “Dear, I’m afraid I don’t know how you can live like this. Surely you deserve better.”

“Well, shit, Tavi, the universe thinks you’re wrong,” I say as I shrug off my jacket and bags. I toss them over my chair and head to the kitchen. “You want pizza or something? A beer?”

“Charmed, but I’ll pass,” Octavia responds.

“Your loss.” I swipe a beer from my fridge and plop down across from her, kicking my legs up on the table. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why are you still here?”

Octavia sighed. “I fear that you aren’t taking things very seriously, dear.”

“Why, whatever do you mean by that?”

“Raindrops, your license could get suspended. Then you’d be out of a job. Isn’t this of any concern at all to you?”

I roll my eyes. “They’re always threatening to take our licences. They don’t scare me.”

“They should,” Octavia says. “Because I don’t think a pony like you would survive in prison. Raindrops, dear, surely you must be aware that you can’t afford to lose your job now? Do you understand the severity of your situation?”

I let out a nice long burp.

Octavia glares at me, then stands up. “Fine then. It is clear that you don’t care about this grave you’re digging for yourself. I dearly apologize for boring you and wasting your time.” She huffs and adjusts her suit coat again before turning to the door. “Oh, and Apple Fritter wants to see you tomorrow. Don’t make me drag you out there, dear.”

I raise my bottle in her direction. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Octavia opens the door, only to pause. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Oh! I didn’t know Killjoy had company,” says a new voice. I look up to see Twitch standing in the doorway. She shuffles about awkwardly before realizing she’s blocking the door and steps to the side.

Octavia smiles and nods before sauntering out. Twitch watches her go, mouth slightly open. She shakes her head and comes inside. “Uh… wow.”

“...right. How’d you know I was home?” I ask.

“I posted a sentry on your roof and told her to watch for you,” Twitch answers monotonously. “Who was that?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Who? Octavia? She’s a… friend, I guess.”

“... she’s hot,” mutters Twitch.

I spit out my beer all over the table. “You fucking what?! That’s… Don’t say that shit!”

Twitch shrugs, tearing her eyes away from the door and trotting over to the table. I stand up to get some napkins and another beer for Twitch. “So why’re you here?”

“You get what you needed from Lowball?”

I scoff, pulling a bottle from my fridge. “You still want to help me?”

Twitch sighs. “You said you were going to tell me the truth.”

“And I am. This is a bounty, I got contracted to hunt down Fading’s killers,” I reply, rummaging around the fridge. I pull out a bottle labeled ‘sauce’ and scrunch my nose. “The fuck is this… uh, yeah, it’s what I told you.”

“So this isn’t personal? At all?” asks Twitch skeptically. “It’s a legitimate job?”

I pull out a bottle and kick the door shut. “Yeah. Above the table, just the way you like it.”

Twitch rolls her eyes, and I slide the bottle across the table. She pops the cap and takes a swig. “What’d you get from him?”

I wipe my mouth and grab a notebook and pencil. “Names and descriptions of the hit team. Next part will probably be tracking them down, but chances are they’ll stick around Lone Hill.”

“Right, local punks like staying local,” Twitch agrees. “Still, if word gets out that you’re taking numbers, the smart ones will probably jump ship.”

“Yeah, but the ‘smart ones’ in this case are Dogma and Lowball, and we’ve already got those fuckers,” I reply, sliding the list over to Twitch. She glances at it and nods.

“I’ll run it through our sources and see if we can get a bead on ‘em.” She sticks the notebook in her saddlebag and takes another pull from her beer. “But for real, tell me about Octavia.”

I slam a hoof into my face. “You’re not serious, are you?” I hazard a glance at her and see an eager grin on her face. “Okay, fuck. I’m going to need another beer if we’re doing this…”

I'm (Not) Okay, I Promise

“Look alive, sunshine!”

I gasp, eyes fluttering open as I flail out of bed. Someone’s banging at my door. “FUCKING--”

The banging stops. After I untangle myself from my bed sheets, I stumble over to the door and throw it open. Twitch recoils as she lays her eyes upon my beauty. “Dear Celestia, you look horrible.”

“No shit! Like you look perfect when you wake up,” I spit back.

“Bitch, I am perfect.” Twitch smirks. “Get your shit together and let’s go.”

I rub my eyes. “Urgh. Right, fine. Give me like five minutes.”

“You look like you’re going to need a bit longer than that.”

I slam the door in her face, cursing Celestia for letting her exist. I shake the sleep from my head and try to organize my thoughts. The early morning sunlight trickles in from the window behind the conference desk, and I remember Octavia’s visit from yesterday.

So I guess the first order of business today is to go talk to Apple Fritter. She might be a peaceful mare, but I’m scared that one day she’s going to lose her patience with me and stab me with a trowel. But on the bright side, maybe I can get some breakfast off of her too.

I trot across the room to my bathroom and turn on the sink. As I wait for the water to warm up, I hazard a glance at the mirror and raise a hoof to my black eye. Doesn’t sting as much anymore, but still hurts.

Oh well. I splash some water on my face and sigh. Another long day ahead of me. Shit, it’s Thursday, isn’t it? I’m supposed to meet Faders at The Galley for drinks… if he was still alive anyways.

Maybe I should still go. Shoot the shit with the regulars or something. Then again, they’re probably going to start asking questions that I don’t want to answer. Besides, it isn’t going to be the same without Faders.

I dry myself off and exit the bathroom. I head over to my gun rack and start throwing on my equipment: my holster, coat, and rifle. I do a quick mental inventory of how much ammo I’ve got left after yesterday’s scuffle and figure I’ve got a few days before I have to go buy more.

Satisfied, I grab my stetson from the coatrack and plop it onto my head, making my way out. I blink a few times to adjust to the sunlight, but quickly spot Twitch sitting in her jeep on the curbside. She flips through a newspaper absently, chewing her lip in thought.

I slap the door twice to get her attention and hop into the passenger’s seat. She crumples up the newspaper and tosses it into the back, starting the car. “Alright, Sunshine, where we heading?”

“Fritter’s farm first,” I reply, buckling up. “Tavi says I need to have words with her.”

“Great, so I get to be your personal chauffeur,” grumbles Twitch.

I smirk at her. “Hey, if it’s any consolation, Tavi’s gonna be there too!”

Twitch rolls her eyes, but I see her cheeks turn red at that. I lean back in the seat and close my eyes, sighing. I’ve got to mentally psych myself up for this.

Don’t get me wrong, Fritter’s usually pretty quiet… well, I guess she’s always quiet when you put it like that. But when she’s pissed off, she can get scary. And she doesn’t even talk! Sometimes I get nightmares where she gets a voice somehow and yells at me. I shudder at the thought.

But still. I don’t know when Octavia figured out what I do, but I don’t know if she told Fritter. I don’t how long I can keep this a secret from her anyways, but I at least need to finish this mission first. Even if it’s the last one I ever do.

Guess I’ll worry about that later. Before I can go beat up these gang bangers, I’m going to have to survive a talk with my… whatever Fritter is to me.

Honestly? I’d rather go fight the gangsters.

Apple Fritter owns a nice little farm on the edge of Appleloosa. If I remember right, she took it over after her brother got kicked out of town and became a Deputy Marshal. Still, she does a helluva job.

Twitch parks the jeep in front of the farmhouse, and the smell of fresh apples hits my face. In the orchards I can see her hired farmhooves moving in between the trees, working under the desert sun. I can also see Octavia’s sedan in the driveway next to Apple Fritter’s old pickup.

“Celestia, I hate that smell,” Twitch grumbles.

“Of what? Apples?”

Twitch nods in affirmation. “Can’t even remember the last time I was out here.”

“Wasn’t it when Fritter’s cousin decked you in the face with a stool, after you said that strawberries were the superior fruit?” I ask, poking her in the side.

“... shut up,” Twitch mutters, slugging me in the shoulder.

We trot up to the door, leaving our guns in the jeep. Fritter doesn’t like them in her house. I knock three times on the door, and we wait for a response. “Coming!” calls a voice.

After a few seconds, a familiar face pulls the door open. Octavia dusts her hooves off on an apron and smiles at us. “Ah, Raindrops. So glad you decided to come. And here I thought I’d have to go drag you out of bed.”

“Yeah, well, Twitch here beat you to it,” I reply, trotting into the quaint little foyer.

“Oh? Well, I suppose I have to thank you then,” Octavia says. “I don’t believe I caught your name?”

Twitch takes off her hat and holds it against her chest as her right eyelid starts jumping. “S-Strawberry Sunrise,” she stammers. “But, uh, ponies call me Twitch.”

“Ah. Which name would you prefer?”

“Uh… Strawberry is fine,” she mutters.

Octavia beams and nods. Inside, I roll my eyes. Watching this play out is physically painful.

Twitch gestures at her apron. “So, uh… you cook?”

“I try,” Octavia replies, “although I’m not nearly as good as Apple Fritter is.”

“I, uh, could show you some stuff? Y’know, if you want?”

Octavia blinks and shrugs. “Well if it isn’t any trouble, then by all means!” As Twitch stumbles into the kitchen, Octavia chuckles and turns to me. “Apple Fritter is by the barn,” she says.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, great, thanks. Can I trust you to be alone with her?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“...sure. Just don’t break her, okay? I need her.” With that, I head through the house and to the backdoor. I step onto the back porch, squinting as the sunlight assaults my eyes once again. The orchard stretches out around me, trees spanning out into the distance. I never figured out how they managed to grow shit in the desert, but that’s why I’m not a farmer.

I hop into the air and take a quick flight to the barn. There’s another pickup parked in front of it, and I spot Fritter loading some boxes into the back. I touch down next to her, sending some dust scattering into the air. “Hey, what’s up?”

Apple Fritter tips her hat at me. She lifts a crate effortlessly and shoves it into the bed of the truck. She gestures to some bales of hay nearby, asking me to take a seat.

I comply and settle down, wincing as some straw digs into my butt. Fritter wipes her brow and fetches her boards from her saddlebags. You holding up okay? she asks.

I shrug. “Fine, I guess. We really going to have this conversation again?”

We can stop when you tell me the truth, she replies.

“This shit again? Come on, Fritter, have I ever lied to you before?”

She nods, her hat bobbing up and down.

“... Okay, valid, but I’m not lying now. I’m okay, I promise.” I fold my arms across my chest and crack a smile.

Apple Fritter doesn’t return it, though. She writes something, but scribbles it out before starting again. If you say so. What happened to your eye?

“Nothing,” I reply, absently raising a hoof to it. “Just some… work issues.”

Right. Some rivalry going on in the weather service? Even if she can’t talk, I can sense the sarcasm dripping from her non-existent voice.

“Yeah. Work stuff. You know how it is,” I reply.

Apple Fritter sighs and shakes her head. This is the reason we broke up the first time.

I flinch at that. “What is?”

Communication, she writes. You’re not telling me anything. And I can’t live like that.

Inside, I want to laugh at the fact that a mute pony is lecturing me about communication. But that’d probably just piss her off, so I shove it back down.

“Yeah, I know. I just… don’t want to worry you, you know?”

I know how much Fading meant to you, Apple Fritter writes. You two knew each other forever.

“I know that,” I snap. “You don’t need to remind me.”

Then tell me the truth. Are you okay?

I throw my hooves up in the air. “What do you want me to tell you? That I’m not o-fucking-kay?”

Apple Fritter frowns. This goes beyond his death, Raindrops. He was worried about you, he has been for months. You just brushed him off every time he asked.

“And how do you know what he thought? I’m tired of you guys putting words in his mouth!”

Because he told me. He told me that you’ve been drinking more lately. We’re all worried about you.

I sigh, rubbing my head with my hooves. “Don’t. Please, I’m fine. If you want me to stop drinking then fine, I’ll stop.”

I don’t ‘want’ you to do anything, but tell me what’s bothering you. I don’t ask for much from you, you know.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I swipe absently at the hay bale, sending some loose straw flying into the air. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I guess I’m just numb right now. Maybe it’ll hit me eventually.”

Apple Fritter pats me on the shoulder and nods. For a second I wonder what would happen if I told her the truth. That I’m so far away from being ‘okay’ that it isn’t even funny. That she’s right, and so was Faders: I haven’t felt okay in a long, long time.

But I shake it off. I’ll feel better after I get the bastards. That much I know. As I get off the hay bale, my stomach makes itself known by letting out a long rumble.

Apple Fritter smirks. Hungry?

“Maybe,” I answer.

Well, that I can help you with… if Tavi hasn’t burned down my kitchen by now.

“What, were you kissing her goodbye or something?” I ask, kicking at the dirt and scowling as Twitch trots towards me. “The fuck were you doing that took ten minutes?”

Twitch just shoves me. “Fuck you.”

“You wish. Where are we heading next?”

“Back to Lone Hill. There are a few spots we can check, but the odds aren’t good.”

I grunt in confirmation. “When are they ever good?” Usually we end up with two options: ask around and see who’s talking, or sit back and watch them, see where they go.

At this point they already know we’re coming though, so I figure it’s best if we just hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast. Then we knock ‘em down and hit ‘em again just for the fun of it.

I nod and turn to the jeep. “Whatever. Let’s go take some numbers and break some knees.”

“What is it with your obsession with breaking knees?”

I roll my eyes as I pull open the passenger’s side door. “It’s not an obsession, it’s a hobby. Learn the difference, bitch.”

“Whatever.”

Twitch pulls us out of the driveway and onto the lone road heading towards Appleloosa.

I pick up the newspaper and flip it over to the sports section. “Trade deal between Cookie Downs and Lucky Slugger up in air after Baltimare Blues back out… aw, fucking seriously?”

“Yup. Dunno what Arty Dodger’s even thinking. I mean, come on! They get Bull Barns and a shit ton of money from the Commandos in return for basically nothing.” Twitch snorts in disgust. “Sure, he had a fucking horrible year, but that dude pitches better than their entire bullpen combined.”

“Damn straight.” I sigh, slapping the paper angrily. “I just want to see Downs in Duster browns. Is that too much to fucking ask?”

“It is if you’re a Monsters fan,” Twitch says.

We share a laugh at that. “Fuck Manehattan,” I say. “They’ve won enough Equestrian Series for a lifetime. They oughta let the Dodge Dusters take center stage for once.”

Twitch nods as she flicks on the turn signal. “Yeah, but at least we get good things out of this rivalry. Like last year’s fight?”

“Oh, that was a good one. You see the look on Woods’s face when Jet Star charged the mound?”

“How could I forget? Kinda pissed he missed that throw with the helmet.” Twitch shakes her head sadly. “Bastard Woods deserved it. ‘High-and-in’ my ass. Can’t believe they didn’t toss him.”

I shrug, folding up the paper. “That’s baseball for you.”

“Yeah, but seriously, I can’t wait for Cookie to finally get over here. I mean, an outfield with Fly Ball, Pop Out, Ray, and Cookie? That’s pretty much a wet dream.”

“Only if Balfour and Side Strike can get their shit together on the mound,” I reply.

Twitch waves a hoof at me. “You lay off of my dude Balfour!”

“...I still think your crush on him is creepy,” I mutter.

She raises an eyebrow. “What? It’s perfectly normal to like someone as hot as Balfour.”

“He’s like eighty!”

“So? Bitch, you had a crush on Wall Bounce! He's ancient! He was alive when they created baseball!”

I roll my eyes and huff in annoyance. “...one time. It was one time, and I was drunk.”

“Don’t care. You’re still wrong.”

“... I hate you.”

Twitch takes us back to Lone Hill so we can weigh out our options. As she pulls into the Mast’s parking lot, the first thing I notice is a Marshal’s Office cruiser parked by the curbside.

Two browncoats hop out of their car as we pull up, flagging her down. Twitch nods at them, parking the car next to them. “Howdy, help you?”

“Got another one for you,” says the first cop, a black pegasus with a black and yellow mane. “You busy?”

Twitch shakes her head. “Nah, come on in, let’s hash it out.”

The pegasus glances at the other cop, who nods back. “You can stay out here, Strike, I got this.”

“Rog.”

Twitch and the other cop head into the Mast, leaving me out there alone. I pick up the newspaper again, but I can feel Strike’s eyes boring into me. I sigh internally and flash her a fake smile. “Something on my face?”

Strike scoffs and frowns. “You’re that bounty hunter, aren’t you? Killjoy?”

“Maybe? What, you got warrants or something?”

“Wish I did,” Strike spits. “You’ve got a lot of blood on your hooves.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And I’m guessing yours are sparkly-clean?”

Strike rolls her eyes and shifts on her hooves. “It’s ponies like you that make things a whole lot harder for us,” she mutters.

I toss the newspaper aside. “Fine, intrigue me. How so?”

“You have no regard for your own actions, you’re reckless, and you leave a big fat mess wherever you go,” she rants. “You know that shoot-out you caused yesterday in Appleloosa? Three civilians got shot in that. One of them’s in critical condition. And did you give a shit? No, just tried to fly away.”

I open my mouth, then close it again. After a few seconds I shake it off. “Right, because if I stayed, you lot would be thrilled to see me. Don’t try and guilt trip me. You fuckers are just as guilty as the rest of us. You think you can just stomp on us because you wear a badge? You fucks do the exact same shit as us, but somehow it’s justified, because you have the law on your side? Tell me how that’s fair.”

Strike narrows her eyes at me. “I’d watch myself if I were you. You’re one more fuck up away from getting tossed into jail.”

“Oh no, I’m so scared.”

Strike rolls her eyes again and climbs back into her car, slamming the door shut.

I stick my tongue out at her and can feel her seething through the tinted windows. “Fucking pigs.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, before going back to my paper, dreaming about baseball teams and things that don’t really matter.

The Ghost of You

“Our feelers out in the field have some leads, I’ve got some guys running them down now,” Twitch says, leaning back in her seat. “We know some of Rail Spike’s usual haunts, but word is he hasn’t turned up there yet. Nothing yet on Clear Air or Off Speed, though.”

I take a sip of my coffee and shrug. “Hm. I was kinda hoping they’d show up by now.”

“Yeah, well we don’t always have it that easy. You want us to just pass them off to you if we see them?” Twitch asks.

“Sure, but can you give me what you’ve got? I’d like to go hit up those places myself, see if I can find anything.”

Twitch shrugs and throws some papers into a folder, sliding it across the desk. “Knock yourself out.”

We’re interrupted by a rap on the door, and Stellar Eclipse sticks his head in. “Strawberry, someone’s here to see… her.”

Twitch raises an eyebrow. I shrug in response, but follow Stellar out of the office. A familiar face is waiting for me in the lobby.

“Raindrops!” Guiding Light gasps as she rushes towards me. “Your eye! What happened?”

I shrug it off. “Nothing. Why are you here?”

Guiding Light frowns. “The police came and told me that they think you might be working against them. Raindrops, what did I tell you? I don’t want you to get involved!”

I raise an eyebrow and take a step back defensively. “What? I’m just doing my job!”

Guiding points a hoof at me accusingly. “And do what? Kill ponies? You know that isn’t what Fading wanted!”

“Stop saying that shit!” I snap. “All of you! You keep saying that as if you know exactly what he wanted! Stop putting words in his mouth!”

Guiding is taken aback, but she doesn’t let up. “And you think you know him better than you know us?” She shakes her head in disgust. “Then how are you any better than us?”

“Fuck you!” I spit. “What do you want me to say? Yeah, he’s fucking dead! I know that! I know killing ponies isn’t going to bring him back. But I don’t care what you think, because that’s what I’m going to fucking do!”

Stellar clears his throat awkwardly, shifting in his wheelchair behind the desk. “Er… perhaps you should take this outside?”

“There’s no need for that,” Guiding hisses as she recollects herself. “I was on my way out.” She shoves past me and heads for the door.

I huff, trying to calm myself down, and glance at Stellar. He drops his gaze and refuses to look at me. For a second I think about apologizing to him. But instead I lower my head and head out the door. It closes with a thud behind me.

It really does feel like every single gangster likes to hang out in the same place. I’ve spent most of the day alternating between the spots Twitch’s guys identified and trying to see if Rail Spike turns up.

Right now I’m hanging out near a mechanic shop, watching as some gangbangers hang out in the front, smoking and laughing at each other. I stretch out my wings, shaking the stiffness out of my body.

I glance around the building lazily. I see a team of Village Idiots hanging out on a nearby roof, keeping an eye on the place. They haven’t noticed me yet though. I roll my neck and sigh again, settling back down.

Think I’ll give it another half hour before I rotate to another spot. Not that the view will be any better there, seems like Rail Spike’s got a fetish for absolute shitholes. Maybe it’s just a gang-thing. I dunno.

I shoot another look at Twitch’s guys on the nearby roof. I’m pretty sure that she heard that whole fight with Guiding, which means she probably knows the truth now: that there’s no bounty at all. Probably best if I steer clear of her for a while… although it’s weird her guys are still here. Maybe they just haven’t heard the news yet.

Still remember when we first met each other, way back when we were both contracting for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. Dunno what drew her to me, but we made a pretty good team back in the day. Hell, she’s been trying to get me to sign up with the Village Idiots for awhile now. Don’t think Stellar’s a fan though.

I mean, it’s not because I don’t like working with her, I just work best alone. Other ponies just end up dragging me down anyways.

I let out a hefty sigh and stretch out my wings. Nights like these bring back memories of sitting on Fading’s porch with a bottle of whiskey, sipping the night away as we’d make horrible jokes and just talk about life.

I miss that. Just being able to talk to someone. It’s hard nowadays finding ponies who’ll listen to you, and even harder to get them to understand. I found that out a long time ago. Fading understood me in a way that nopony else could, that much I’m sure of. Now that he’s gone… Celestia knows what I’ve got to do to be heard.

I sigh and close my eyes. I imagine his wheezing laugh and that scratchy voice of his, as he gives me sage advice from the comfort of his porch chair. “Killjoy, you listen here. One day like this, at the end of the world, we ain’t ever gonna be the same. So don’t you go frettin’ about who you are now.”

Then his daughter would come outside and he’d pull her into his lap, laughing and holding her tight… Oh Celestia, I can’t imagine what this is like for little Rising. I shudder as I picture guiding, weeping and holding her daughter tightly, as some stone-faced deputy tells her that Fading is never coming home.

I shake off the thought. That’s not a train I’m interested in riding at the moment.

My ears perk up as the sound of laughter carries over the rooftop. There’s a group of gang bangers hanging out by the front of the garage, smoking and fucking around. One of the earth pony mares rubs up against another one, batting her eyelashes at her.

The unicorn rolls her eyes and shoves her away. The rest of her friends laugh at that, but the earth pony frowns. She says something which the unicorn brushes off. The earth pony swats at her. The unicorn turns around and decks her hard in the face.

I flinch, but the other gangsters laugh and cheer. I raise my binoculars to my face and see the earth pony stagger backwards, tears welling in her eyes. “Bastard,” I mutter under my breath. Shit like that makes me sick.

Behind them, a few more ponies and a griffin waltz out of the building. I narrow my eyes at the lead: a blue and black pegasus in a black bomber jacket. Rail Spike himself has finally reared his ugly head.

I lower my binoculars and grab my rifle, lining up the sights with Rail Spike’s stupid face. I take a deep breath to steady my aim--

Something rams into me from behind, and I go falling off the roof. It takes a second for me to register what the fuck just happened, but I spread out my wings and glide safely to the ground. Unfortunately, that means Rail Spike and the gang have noticed me.

“Who the fuck is that?!” one of them shouts.

A green and yellow pegasus lands next to me, kicking my rifle farther away while drawing his own gun. “Check it, Rail, found her perched on the roof.”

“Well, shit, Off Speed,” he remarks. “This is the fucker that got Lowball!”

Off Speed grabs me from behind while Rail Spike takes my pistol. “So she’s the bitch that killed Greeny, Ferret, and fucked up Dogma?”

“That’d be the one,” Rail Spike replies. “Reckon we oughta return the favor.”

I struggle in their grip, spitting at the ground. “Motherfuckers aren’t the only ones I’m gonna drop--”

Rail Spike drives his hoof into my chest. I cry out in pain and tears well in my eyes. Fuck, he hits hard. The other gangsters cheer and shout at me. “Fuck her up, Rail!”

I glance up to see the earth pony who got punched. Her eyes dart to the ground, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Oh yeah,” laughs the griffon. “We’re gonna have some fun with you. Such a purdy face…”

With a burst of strength, I’m able to yank my right foreleg free of Off Speed’s grip, and I use it to turn and deck the gangster on my left. He staggers backwards and loosens his grip, letting me pull my left foreleg free.

Before they can react, my hoof thrusts into my jacket and pulls out my trusty knife. The unicorn charges towards me and throws a hook aimed at my head. I duck it and thrust my hoof forwards. The mare screams out in pain as my knife slides through her body. I yank it out and push it in again, but this time it gets stuck. She staggers backwards and falls to the ground.

Off Speed slams me into the ground again, and I get a nice facefull of dirt. I throw up my hooves to try and block some of his punches, but a few still get by. The rest of the gangsters join in and start whaling into me, racking my whole body with blows.

“Fucker just stabbed Galley!” screams a voice. “Someone help me!”

Through the pounding in my head I hear the crack of a gunshot. The gangsters scramble off of me and draw their guns, looking around for the source. “What the fuck?!” shouts Off Speed, distracted.

Mustering the last of my strength, I deck him in the chin as hard as I can. He staggers off of me and I try and get to my hooves. Vaguely, I can make out the form of a bright orange pegasus landing besides me.

“JD, Village Idiots!” she chirps. “Here to help, ma’am!”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. She unholsters her pistol and passes it over to me. I take the revolver and try to shake the pain off. “Where’s your partner?”

“Calling it in,” she replies, hefting up her rifle. We duck down behind a parked car as the gangsters start returning fire.

“Great. Let’s try and get this under wraps before the cops show up,” I reply. I pop up over the hood of the car and fire some shots as the gangsters run back towards the garage, nicking one in the back. He cries out but doesn’t stop running.

A few of them fire back, but the bullets sail way over our heads. “Fucker shot me!” one of them screeches.

“She’s gonna fucking pay!”

I raise the pistol and fire a few rounds back. A pony tries to dart across to cover, but I land a few hits on them and they go crashing to the ground.

A unicorn throws up a shield spell and drags him behind one of the parked cars inside the garage. The griffon breaks out of cover and charges down the street, firing from their hip.

“Head down, kid,” I shout at JD as he bears down on us. The bullets fly over our heads, but that just means he’s closing the gap. As he gets closer, I try to land a few shots on him. He howls out in pain but keeps moving.

The griffin spreads their wings and uses them to boost himself towards us. As he comes around the side of the car, I spin the gun around and swing it hard. It makes contact with his head, and he cries out in pain.

I turn back around to see Rail Spike climbing into one of the parked vehicles. My eyes widened as the car suddenly roared to life. “Get back!” I shouted, shoving JD aside. The car bears down on us as Rail Spike floors it, the headlights almost blinding me. The sports car rams into the other car, making a nice dent in the side.

I scramble to my hooves, squeezing some shots off. One flies over the roof and the other lands in the passenger’s side door. Even with the engine smoking, Rail Spike somehow manages to throw the car into reverse.

Getting to my hooves, I steady my pistol and fire again. The bullet shatters the back window, and someone screams. The car speeds off down the street, tearing down the asphalt. “Fuck!”

I spread my wings to give chase, but someone grabs my lag. “Wait!” JD shouts. “We gotta help ‘em!”

I glance backwards to see the mare from earlier kneeling by the stabbed unicorn. The earth pony sobs into her coat, clutching her tightly as the unicorn’s blood leaks out onto the sidewalk.
“There isn’t shit we can do,” I hiss, trying to pull my arm free. But JD’s got a death grip on me.

“We gotta try, at least!” She starts dragging me over to their side.

The earth pony looks up at us as we near. “Fuck you,” she hisses at me. I go to raise my gun, but she doesn’t move.

JD kneels next to the unicorn. “Hey, she’s gonna be fine. No, no, leave it in.”

I roll my eyes and turn down the street again. “Call an ambulance or some shit. I’m going after them.”

JD stares at me in disbelief. “Wait--”

I ignore her and take off into the air, leaving the crime scene behind me.

The Apathetic Life is Gonna Kill You

It’s close to midnight by the time I land back at home. I couldn’t find the car even after hours of canvasing the city. Wherever the hell they went, they got there fast.

As I touch down outside of my apartment, I suddenly tense up. My hoof slides towards my pistol reflexively. “Easy there! It’s me,” JD says from behind me.

I sigh in annoyance and relax a little bit. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“Staked out your house the other night,” JD replies. “Twitch’s orders. You left that scene mighty fast, just wanted to talk about it.”

I roll my eyes and trot towards the apartment building. “I’ve got nothing to say. Go home, kid.” As I push open the door, I scowl as I hear her hoofsteps following me. “Geez. Can’t take a hint, can you?”

“No ma’am,” she replies. “Again, just want to ask you what all this is about.”

I snort in annoyance as I start climbing the stairs, JD trailing me close behind. “What, can’t a mare go around killing folks without ponies asking questions?”

“Word is you’re takin’ this mighty seriously, ma’am,” JD shoots back.

“Ugh. Don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel fuckin’ old,” I grunt.

JD shrugs. “Sure thing, Killjoy.”

We pause outside of my apartment door and I fumble the keys out of saddlebag. “See, why can’t you tell Stellar to call me that?”

“Stellar thinks those kind of names are tacky, ma-- Killjoy,” J.D. replies, catching herself in time.

I nose open the door to my apartment and smash my hoof on the lightswitch, showing off the shitty little room in its full glory.

JD soaks it all in from my doorway as I throw my gear on the couch. I amble over to the fridge, hoping there’s still some beer and pizza left. I wave a hoof at the conference ‘room’ behind me. “You got a question or something, better ask it now.”

“Just wonderin’ why you’re so invested in this case,” J.D. replies as she pulls out a chair.

I sigh, kicking up my legs on the table. “Not much to say. He was a friend of mine… real good friend.”

“Right rotten way for him to go,” JD replies. “My condolences. Sounds like you and him were real close?”

I think about that for a minute. “Well… I liked to think we were. I only knew him for about four years, actually. One of the first ponies I met when I came out here. Tavi introduced us, he gave me my first job.” I shake off the nostalgia and take a drink. “But hell, that’s all in the past now.”

JD takes it in and nods. “So you knew him well?”

“He was like a brother to me,” I say. “Sure as hell didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

We fall silent as I spin the bottle in circles on the table, grabbing it by the neck and rolling it around its base. Guess it was kind of rash of me to think I knew him the best. I mean, sure, we were great friends, but he was married to Guiding for… what, thirty years?

Shit, man. Time just passes you by if you’re not paying attention. It sure as shit isn’t going to wait for you, either.

I shake off the thoughts and focus on the kid. “Look… how long have you been doing this?”

“Second year on the job,” she responds.

“Huh. So you’re still pretty green then.” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Listen, you probably know already, but this line of work is pretty shitty. Gonna see a lot of shit that fucks you up, and a lot of shit that sticks with you in the end.”

“I know,” she replies. “But it’s all worth it in the end, isn’t it?”

That makes me hesitate. “I… I don’t know.”

I feel JD’s eyes boring in to me, studying me like I’m a fucking museum piece or something.

“I just don’t fucking know,” I mutter. “We say that we do this shit for the greater good, but what fucking good is that if we can’t even save the ones close to us?”

JD chews on that thought and I can see the gears winding in her head. Way to go, Killjoy. Give her trauma while she’s still fresh on the job.

“Look,” I say, setting the bottle back down. “Don’t worry about it that much. But if you want my advice, get out while you can. This job’s shitty, and it’s only a matter of time before you lose someone or you lose yourself.”

“Huh,” JD says. “Well… thanks, I guess.” She slides out of the chair and heads for the door, chewing her lip as she walks. As she reaches the door she pauses and glances back at me. “Hey, so uh… have you ever had to…” her eyes drift to the pistol that’s sitting on the table.

I wince, finishing the question in my head. “When… uh, if that comes, you’re going to want to talk to someone who isn’t me,” I stutter. “Because I… it... just… just talk to someone if you need to. Not me.”

“Right, right. Okay. Uh, thanks, Killjoy.” JD tips her hat at me and walks out, gently shutting the door behind her.

I blink a few times and stare at the door, before shrugging it off and reaching for my bottle.

Something tells me I’m in for another long night.

All in all, Lone Hill isn’t the shittiest city in the west, but it’s a far cry from the best. Not a lot of ponies come out here, especially now that Oasis is a thing. Nowadays everyone goes flocking over to that suburban bullshit, or whatever the fuck they’re doing out there.

The parking lot next to the Bounty Hunter’s Guild office is pretty empty, which makes sense. Ponies avoid this place for as long as they can help it. Nopony challenges me as I trot up the stairs and into the reception room.

I nod at the receptionist before heading off to the notice board, where they hoof out notifications and wanted posters, mixed in with safety reminders and random advertisements. Not seeing anything all that important, I head down the hall and towards the mailboxes.

They give one to every registered bounty hunter, and use them to give payouts and work, but some of the wiseguys also like shoving lewd images through the slots. Some days it’s a real mixed bag.

Luckily, there’s nothing but some papers inside of mine. Flipping through them shows that they’re nothing special: a general wanted notice for some Dusk Watch fucker, a reminder about paying off my guild dues, and a warning. For “improper conduct and behavior unbecoming of a bounty hunter.”

I roll my eyes, crumpling up the warning and tossing it aside.

“Dear, you really shouldn’t litter,” says a voice from behind me. I whip around to see Octavia, clicking her tongue at me in disapproval.

“Wha… Tavi, what the fuck are you doing here? How’d you even get in?”

Octavia ignores me and scoops up the crumpled paper, unfurling it in her hooves. “Is this how you treat all of your reprimands?”

I shrug. “They hoof them out like candy. Really bitter, shitty tasting candy.”

“You really do need to take these more seriously,” Octavia muses. “This is your career on the line, dear.”

“What do you want now, Tavi? Why are you here?”

Octavia unfolds the warning and smooths it out against her suit coat. “I just had a meeting with the head of the guild, Raindrops. And I regret to inform you that you are on quite thin ice.”

I narrow my eyebrows. “What the hell were you doing talking to the guild masters?”

“I’m trying to save you before you kill yourself,” Octavia snaps. “Because quite frankly, I think that you will.”

“And so what if I do?”

The words echo down the hallway as Octavia stares me down. “So what? Is that really what you think of your own life?”

“What the fuck do you care?”

Octavia rams a hoof into my chest, sending me backpedaling. “Do not get curt with me,” she growls. “Fine. The apathetic life is going to kill you, dear, but that seems to be just fine with you.”

She shoves the paper warning into my chest with a huff, before whirling about and storming out of the room. I don’t let my breath out until the door slams shut.

I smooth out the warning against my chest and skim it. Towards the bottom, my eyes catch a single, bolded phrase that I didn’t notice before: This is your final warning.

I crumple it up and toss it into the trash can with a snort. Then, I turn around and buck the lockers behind me as hard as I can. The echo rings and rings throughout the hallway like a gunshot.