Two wanted posters decorated the wall outside of the small-town saloon.
One was for a beautiful unicorn mare with a pristine white fur and lovely purple mane tied back in a ponytail. A small but pretty smile graced her ruby red lips. She looked a little worn and weathered, probably because of the years being on the run. But she was still a damsel, a lady, someone of great beauty, and considering the five-figure bounty on her head, renown.
Rarity Belle.
The other was for a stern-faced earth pony, who glared at the camera. They looked brutish and gruff with many nicks, scratches, and scars tarnishing their otherwise well-maintained orange coat. A fuzzy tuff of blonde hair coated their scalp, cut short in a style that most would call tomboyish. Unlike Rarity, this was a pony who looked like they could kill. And considering their equally large bounty, likely had.
Applejack, also goes by ‘Cortland’
This duo was better known around Equestria by their infamous misnomer, Belle and Cortland. The two most famous bank robbers in all of the land. Loved by the people for being a modern-day Robin Hood, despised by the ruling class for constantly hitting up those nefarious institutions that drained hard working folk of their well-earned pay.
Applejack snorted as she inspected the posters from under the brim of her weathered hat, rolling her cigarette between her lips as she drew in a drag.
“Why do they always make me look like such a butch in these?” she asked.
Rarity chuckled, moving towards the saloon’s swinging doors. “Probably because you have a very butch-like quality to you, dear.” She motioned towards her. “Brutish physique, uncouth fashion choice, your endless diet of tobacco and…”
“You smoke too,” Applejack grumbled, letting out a huff that was laced with contrails of smoke.
Rarity smirked. “I mean, naturally, but I have a certain ladylike charm when I do it.”
“And I can clean up pretty nice, if I wanted to,” Applejack added. “Just don’t see much of a point in doing so if most of our day is spent roughing it since we can’t really take no trains anywhere.”
“There’s never a good reason not to dress up,” Rarity said, motioning towards her own lovely gown made of a delicate blue cotton with highlights of yellow in it. “Not like we really have anything else to spend our money on. The government frowns upon investments made with stolen money, unless your name is Al Capony.”
Applejack was about to respond but Rarity got the last word in as she dipped inside, forcing Applejack to bite back her words and follow in tow.
This saloon was like all the others they had visited on the outskirts of Equestrian civilization. It was dusty, hot, and had approximately three beverages to choose from: a single beer (which likely had pulp), a single cider (that was no better), and a single whiskey (that was watered down to the point of futility).
Still Applejack was a firm believer in supporting local businesses. After all, not everypony was fortunate enough to have a sweet gig robbing the aristocracy of everything they were worth.
She watched as Rarity approached the bar, looking as prim and property as always. Her days of going to galas and soirees were long behind her but she still acted like the lady she’d always wanted to be.
The barkeep looked up and Applejack noticed that little flash of recognition that went through his eye. The one that told her that he realized that this was the very real version of the pony whose portrait was hanging outside. The question now was what would he do with that information.
In some towns, this meant drinks were on the house. In others, it could mean a shotgun was drawn.
In this town, it meant Rarity was offered a cheery smile. “What can I get for you, miss?”
Rarity smirked. “I’ll have a nice glass of cider, and the same for my companion.”
Applejack glanced around the place, as she approached the bar, appraising the situation and every possible direction this encounter could play out.
There were a group of poker players, sitting around a table. Three of them were armed. Though she doubted they would pose a threat, due to one of them bearing the brand of the crescent moon upon his shoulder. This was a symbol burned into the flesh of criminals in these parts and it turned out that branding a pony only made them angrier at the system.
There was another group by the window. Two mares, wearing dresses that Rarity would surely say were at least a generation out of date. Though Applejack thought they looked awfully nice and were likely two mares enjoying the closest thing to a date that you could get in a town like this.
This left the last group attending to midday drinks.
A middle-aged mare, wearing a similar hat to Applejack’s own, and her younger male companion. Both were armed and they held an air of authority. Likely lawponies, or at the very least prosperous and well-off landowners, though how much of a risk that status bore depended on where they were.
In some stretches of these great untamed western lands, those in authority were bound to hold a grudge against Canterlot for ruining their forlorn dreams of independence. And in those places, Rarity and herself often found a warmer reception.
When Applejack made it to the bar top, the keep gave her that same look, that same twinkle of recognition sparkling in his eye.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked.
Applejack shrugged. “You ever travel?”
He shook his head. “Nah, haven’t left town for anywhere farther than Appleloosa and that’s only half a day away from here.” He chuckled. “Though I wouldn’t mind a chance to get away and see the world.”
“My cousin lives in Appleloosa,” Applejack simply stated. “Maybe we look similar?”
Rarity nodded. “She has a very familiar face and gets that quite a bit.”
The barkeep chuckled and glanced past the duo, at the two authority figures that lingered near the edge of the room. As Applejack followed his gaze, she saw the duo look up, that twinkle of recognition firing in their eyes. Now came the question of what they were going to do about the two bank robbers in their midst.
Applejack slid a hoof along her side, resting it against the holster affixed to her belt. She let it linger there, sending a message but doing nothing more.
Rarity didn’t seem to notice, or at the very least, pretended not to. Instead she leaned across the counter.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, dear?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
The barkeep smiled. “And what’s that, Miss Belle?”
Applejack’s mind flared, remembering that no such names had been given.
Yet, Rarity persisted. “Where did you get such a fine vest?” she asked, touching a hoof to it and feeling the material.
The barkeep warmed. “Why I ordered it from the Steer’s Hearth’s Warming catalogue.”
“It looks simply dashing on you, dear. I do enjoy a stallion who cares about their personal appearance,” Rarity said, allowing a seductive note to fill her voice. “It’s a very appealing characteristic.”
“W-why thank you?” He chuckled, his cheeks now tinted red. “Thought I might as well own something nice if I ever decided to hitch a ride out of here.”
“Not a fan of running a saloon?” Rarity asked, taping a hoof against the bar.
The barkeep shook his head. “Not particularly. I honestly wouldn’t mind setting up shop somewhere on the coast. I hear Seaddle is pretty fine.”
“It’s a very nice city; been there a few times myself.” Rarity sighed fondly. “A little rainy but I find that’s the perfect environment to foster creativity.” She shook her head and met his eye. “May I ask you another question, darling?”
“And what’s that?”
Rarity glanced over her shoulder, looking at the law ponies that Applejack was currently having a staring match with. “What would those ponies do if they knew that me and my partner had a bounty on our head?”
The barkeep snorted.
“Hey Sheriff!” he called.
The older mare nodded. “What is it, Gold Tooth?”
“What would you do, if you found out that Belle and Cortland were in town?” he asked, making Applejack flinch at the bluntness of his statement.
The Sheriff glanced away from Applejack and at him. “Is it an election year, this year?”
As she asked this question, she slowly drew out her own six shooter, placing it upon the table with the barrel aimed towards Applejack.
One of the mares, from the duo on the date, laughed. “In two months’ time, Sheriff Silverfeather.”
“Well if that was the case, and we’re talking strictly on hypothetical terms, then I think acting upon that knowledge would go over poorly for my re-election bid. “ She nodded towards Applejack. “I don’t know about you, stranger, but I find that killing folk heroes doesn’t make you an especially popular figure when it comes time to cast ballots.”
“Bound to get you lynched,” her partner grumbled. “Or run out of town if you’re lucky.”
Rarity frowned. “Not even for twenty thousand bits?”
Applejack snorted and threw her partner a sideways glare.
“What?” Rarity asked, huffing.
Applejack rolled her eyes. “I feel like antagonizing the local law enforcement is not the best use of your vigorous personality, dear.”
“You best listen to Cortland,” the Sheriff added, shaking her head. “But nah, the money would be nice but this far away from Canterlot, food, land, and booze are all dirt cheap. The only thing worth anything is a royal title and the only way to get one of those is to stay sheriff long enough that somepony in Canterlot takes notice.”
Her partner nodded. “Silverfeather here is aiming to make herself a proper Countess when Celestia formally integrates this land into the kingdom.”
“Countess is a very noble title,” Rarity quipped. “Very fitting for a mare like you.”
Silverfeather smiled and bowed her head. “Well ain’t you the sweetest bank robber we’ve ever gotten in this town.”
The barkeep presented the duo with their drinks. The cider was surprisingly good looking, bearing no pulp or other unsavoury substances. Not totally surprising considering how close they were to Appleloosa.
Applejack briefly entertained the idea about heading up north and seeing if she could find some of her kin but decided against it. Not many folks were too keen on their blood taking up a life of crime, even in a family as close knit as the Apples.
“And what would your policy be if the local bank was hit up?” Rarity asked.
The room went dead silent with even the crashing off poker chips and shuffling of cards stopping. At that moment, all eyes were on the duo.
Silverfeather worked her aged jaw, mulling this over for a minute.
“Well this is an election year, correct?” she asked.
Her partner nodded. “Like Miss Lyra said, we’re going to the poll in a couple months.”
“So, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to do a little campaigning out in the countryside. After all, our county seat stretches on for quite some time. Probably close to a hundred small hold farms scattered across about a hundred kilometers or so,” Silverfeather said before glancing at her partner. “Probably make better work of things if we both went out and split the load.”
“Would leave the town undefended,” her deputy quipped, though it was doubtful that he actually cared about this.
“No, it wouldn’t,” one the poker players said, a cheeky smile gracing his lips. “You’d still have those four Royal Guards coming in two days time to restock the bank with bits and bonds. Bet they wouldn’t mind staying for a little while longer.”
Silverfeather grinned and looked at her deputy. “See we wouldn’t be leaving the town undefended. Though…” She nodded towards the duo. “I think my re-election bid would also be aided by a donation to my campaign’s war chest, and maybe even, an under the table stimulus package to help out the local populace, if you understand my jib.”
Applejack looked at Rarity, and Rarity back at her, the two of them sharing in a knowing smile.
There was a certain benefit to be derived from being a folk hero it would seem.
“Those terms are agreeable,” Applejack said, with Rarity nodding along.
The barkeep cleared his throat and winked at them. “So, would you two be interested in a room for a couple nights. We have a very lovely penthouse suite. Comes with its own bed and chamber pot, cleanest you’ll ever find west of Whinnyapolis.”
Applejack grinned nice and wide. “Sounds like a steal.”
Rarity sat by the attic suite’s window, humming softly to herself as she cleaned her revolver. Applejack called it a peashooter but even with a deficit in calibre the little toy had never let her down.
She glanced at her partner, watching the lumbering earth pony slumber in their shared bed.
Since leaving the farm, Applejack had devolved into a late sleeper, no longer chained to the rooster or sunrise.
Rarity sighed contently, giving her gun’s chamber a spin for effect, the mechanism moving effortlessly with the amount of polish and cleaning she’d done. After confirming that it was functional, she slipped it away in a holster under her dress.
Next, she opened a large canvas bag. Inside was an abundance of bills, enough to happily retire on if the heat would ever die down. And beneath this plethora of money was a pair of submachine guns.
They were nicknamed ‘bridle’ guns and had big fat drum magazines that could spit munitions like a jazz pianist could slam keys.
These were rarely brought out, reserved exclusively for special occasions. But they seemed like a necessary tool this morning, especially since they were going to be confronting four Royal Guards. Those troopers did not fuck around.
As Rarity began to inspect them, she heard movement, her gaze drifting towards the bed where Applejack laid.
The earth pony cracked open a bleary eye and offered a warm, almost genuine, smile. “Morning, gorgeous.”
Rarity grinned like an idiot. “Morning, handsome.”
Applejack yawned and rolled out of bed, flopping onto the floor and lumbering over. As she approached, Rarity could smell her unwashed musk. Her body was heavy with the scent of sweat, dust, apples, and a dashing of Rarity’s perfume that seemed to rub off on her during their night together.
She nuzzled into Rarity’s neck, planting a kiss upon it before drawing away and looking her in the eye.
“You ready?” she asked, brushing her lips against Rarity’s own as they shared in a small kiss.
Rarity nodded, whispering in a husky tone. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Do you ever miss what we used to do before all of this went down?” Applejack asked, picking up her bridle and pulling back the firing mechanism.
It moved smoothly, with a well-polished ease. Rarity had always had an attention for detail and that didn’t stop just because she had a change in careers.
She sighed fondly, glancing out the window as she nodded. “I will admit I do kind of miss the old ways. Dressmaking was far more glamorous than bank robbing, darling.” She shook her head. “Plus, I got invited to far more parties.”
“We get invited to plenty of shindigs,” Applejack said, replacing the gun for a drum of bullets.
She popped it open and began to count the individual rounds. A bridle could hold quite a few as it was the most effective tool in the industry.
“Shindigs, sure,” Rarity said, sighing. “But I sometimes miss going to a proper banquet or gala, being amongst the who's who of society.”
Applejack nodded along. “I just miss an honest day’s work at the farm. But well… it wasn’t exactly the most profitable of businesses when everything went to shit.” She growled. “And then those damned dusters came blowing in and that pretty much sunk that whole enterprise.”
“Wasn’t exactly a huge market for dresses and gowns when this all went down either,” Rarity said. “Or at least none that were made by my hooves.”
Her ears perked as she noticed movement on the street, seeing a crowd of ponies beginning to form.
Applejack must’ve noticed her shift in demeanour as she moved away from the canvas bag and peered out the window.
“What do you think is going on?” she asked.
Rarity shrugged, looking back at her. “Probably just a tussle in the streets. You know how these towns can be.”
“I suppose that’s…” Applejack’s breathing caught and eyes immediately widened. “Oh fuck.”
Rarity turned back. “What is…”
Her heart sunk as she noticed that it wasn’t a fight in the street but something altogether different. Something that did not bode well for the couple.
There was a parade of troops outside, with easily a platoon of royal guards lumbering along the dusty street. They were armed to the teeth, better equipped and more numerous than any guards she’d ever seen protecting a bank transfer before.
“Who…” Rarity began.
But before she could finish that question the wall beside her exploded outwards, sending splinters whizzing through the air as a bullet slammed through the thin material.
Rarity yelped and dove for the floor, scrambling for the canvas bag. This turned out to be a wise decision as more rifles cracked and more of the wall splintered outwards, the numerous bullet holes now letting beams of light seep into the otherwise dark and dusty room.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Applejack growled, grabbing her bridle and slamming munitions into it. “This is bad!”
Rarity let out a grim chuckle. “Thank you, darling, I’ll admit I had trouble noticing that.”
She too grabbed one of these fabled weapons, slapping a fresh drum of munitions into it and chambering a round.
“So, what’s the game plan?” Rarity asked.
Applejack shrugged. “Uh try and shoot our way out?”
Rarity opened her mouth to speak.
But, at that moment, the world turned to pure terror as a rapid firing weapon tore through the room’s façade, turning the wall into a fairly faithful replica of swiss cheese.
Rarity gritted her teeth, feeling her heart hammering with an unrelenting vigour.
The barrage of bullets seemed like it would go on forever, the rumble and cracks a constant symphony that threatened to burst Rarity’s eardrums and deafen her. She counted the rounds and as the number topped one hundred, the gun finally sputtered out, leaving a moment of calm.
“Let’s get out of here!” Applejack yelled, springing to her hooves and rushing for the door.
Rarity was hot on her heels, scooping up both her gun and the canvas bag in her magic. She didn’t even have time to close it, though she hardly cared for how much money she left in her wake. Living was a mite more important than bullion in the grand scheme of things.
They slammed into the hall and started on a mad sprint towards the stairs. Only, as they approached them, a group of royal guards stampeded into the main room. All of them jerked back as they saw the fabled duo, but their shock immediately turned to action as they levelled their guns upon them.
Rarity was faster, however, meeting their attempt at resistance with a frantic burst of bridle fire which forced them to dive to the floor. She’d even managed to clip one of their hats, sending it flying through the air and making the colt duck even lower in an effort to preserve his precious scalp.
Her and Applejack continued forwards, slamming into another room at the end of the hall. This one turned out to be a storage cupboard of some kind with various bottles, crates, and supplies littered about.
There was also a secret stash of booze, with a few pricy bottles tucked away on a nearby shelf.
After Rarity leapt inside, Applejack slammed the door shut, barricading it with an especially heavy looking barrel.
With that done, the two of them cowered in the corner, pressing tight to one another.
Rarity’s only comfort in this moment was the familiar presence of Applejack, her powerful frame heaving against her. She silently wondered if this would be her final time sharing in anything approaching intimacy with her marefriend.
“What the fuck are we going to do, dear?” Rarity asked, trying to keep her voice calm and failing horribly as it cracked at the final word.
Applejack let out a grim chuckle. “Do you want my honest opinion? Or should I pretend to be an optimist?”
Rarity snorted, closing her eyes and letting her gun clatter to the floor.
“Yeah that about sums it up,” Applejack grumbled.
Rarity felt her partner stir and she looked over, watching Applejack grab a bottle of whiskey.
“Apple Wood,” Applejack read, popping open the cap. “Cheap bastard couldn’t even put this on his backbar?” She smirked and smelled it from the stem. “Least we can do is drink that rat bastard’s booze.”
Rarity frowned. “You really think it was him?”
“Kid looked too good for this town,” Applejack said, tilting back the bottle and taking a hefty sip. “And well… twenty grand will get him pretty far away from here. You could retire on that kind of money, even in a city like Seaddle.”
She handed the bottle to Rarity who took it and had her own sip. Prior to this life of debauchery, she’d never been a big whisky mare but a life on the run had warmed her up to the substance. And well, she had to admit this was a fairly good bottle.
“We had a good run,” Applejack said, tilting the brim of her hat so it covered her eyes.
Rarity nodded and took another sip of liquid courage before handing it back. “We did.”
She nestled against Applejack and dipped forwards, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Applejack asked.
“Well let’s see…” Rarity hummed. “A dozen counts of murder, several dozen bank robberies, and thousands in stollen property and property damage. Should amount to…” She whistled and let out an amused note. “About a semester of reformation training at Twilight’s school?”
Applejack snorted. “If only Twilight was still in charge.”
“Yes… the dear really did have a pretty liberal stance on criminal justice,” Rarity replied before shaking her head. “But realistically we’re probably looking at a date with a certain kind of chair. I heard the electric ones are all the rage these days.”
“Think the last meal will be worth it?”
Rarity pursed her lips. “I won’t lie, I would enjoy a nice bottle of wine again.” She sighed. “But I don’t think this territory has any world renown vineyards. What about you? What would you get?”
“Apple pie,” Applejack stated.
Rarity snorted. “Of course.”
There was a commotion outside as ponies scurried about, carrying something heavy with them. Likely they were repositioning their machine gun.
“At least this bar got trashed,” Rarity said.
“They’ll reimburse him for the damage,” Applejack responded, holding onto her matter-of- fact tone. “Bastards rarely get their just desserts.”
“Think he’ll get lynched?”
Applejack shook her head. “He’s probably already left town with a nice cheque in his pocket.”
Outside a megaphone clicked and a deep voice boomed through.
“Belle and Cortland, we have this building surrounded. We ask that you disarm yourselves and surrender peacefully. You will be provided with a fair trial in Canterlot.”
Rarity whistled. “Would be nice to see some familiar faces again. Think the girls would show up?”
“Oh definitely.” Applejack chuckled. “Sure, all of the clan would be there too. How do you think Apple Bloom and them are doing?”
Rarity sighed. “I wish I knew…”
“You have sixty seconds to comply!” the megaphone boomed again.
“Are we complying?” Rarity asked.
Applejack laughed. “Fuck no, of course not.”
Rarity nodded, allowing herself a small smile as she reached for her bridle gun.
“I love you babe,” she whispered, leaning over and pressing her lips firmly against Applejack’s own.
Applejack’s eyes widened but she leaned into the kiss, allowing herself a little bit of tongue as they exchanged their passion for a final time.
When they eventually drew apart her eyes were half lidded.
“I love you too, sugarcube,” she whispered.
Rarity smirked and stood up, letting out a tired sigh.
“Well… shall we have our blaze of glory?” she asked
Applejack grinned nice and wide, cradling her bridle to her side. “Let’s do it.”
Author's Note
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