Fashion is a Harsh Mistress

Coco looked down at her sketchbook, doodling away at a new design. Oddly, it was not for a piece of clothing or an outfit but instead it was a building.

It looked very much like Rarity’s Manehattan Boutique. Which made sense considering that this was a sketch of the exterior of the very same shop. The only difference between the design and reality was the name above the door.

Coco’s Costumes and Coats.

The idea had once been nothing more than a dream but now it felt like it was within her grasp. A couple more moves and this locale would be hers and hers alone. A boutique that she operated and designed for, instead of merely doing alterations and sales.

She couldn’t help but feel giddy. It was just on the horizon, maybe a couple more days of skullduggery away.

There was a chime at the door.

Coco frowned.

It was late and she was really looking forward to closing up early. Alas, a mild inconvenience but one she wouldn’t have to deal with when she was the shop’s owner and could delegate evenings to a subordinate.

She forced a smile and looked up. “Welcome to Rarity’s Boutique where…”

The sentence died on the tip of her tongue as she saw Rarity standing at the door.

“Oh, hey Miss Rarity!” Coco beamed. “I didn’t know you were in Manehattan?”

She closed her sketchbook and shoved it under some paperwork. It wouldn’t do to have Rarity discover her little daydream. Because well, that whole taking over the shop thing may not have been a mutually agreed upon reality. Or a reality that Rarity even knew was about to take place.

Rarity offered a tight smile in response. “Coco, darling, it really is so good to see you again.” She stepped through the shop and towards her. “And yes, I happened to find myself in Manehattan for the week and I thought I would drop by.” She looked at Coco. “If that’s alright with you, of course?”

“Of course!” Coco chuckled nervously. “It is your shop after all.”

“Yes, it is my shop,” Rarity murmured.

The way she put the inflection in that sentence put Coco on edge.

Did she… did she know what Coco was up to?

“And what kind of business brought you to Manehattan?” Coco asked.

As Rarity looked at her, she couldn’t help but sweat. She prayed that Rarity didn’t notice the beads of moisture forming upon her brow.

“Oh, nothing too dire,” Rarity said. “I was just meeting up with Mr. Trotsky. You know to discuss the property and talk about the upcoming adjustment to our rent. I do like to do these kinds of things in person.”

Oh fuck.

“And how did that…” Coco’s voice cracked and she swallowed down the growing anxiety in her throat. “How did that go?”

Rarity smirked and reached out with her magic, turning the door’s deadbolt shut, flipping the open sign to closed, and drawing both the blinds and security shutters down. It would seem that they were going to close up early tonight after all.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh, it went well enough,” Rarity said. Her gaze refused to flinch away from Coco. “You seem tense, dear. Is everything alright?”

Coco swallowed the lump in her throat. “Just peachy, Miss Rarity.”

“Miss Rarity…” Rarity hummed. “You used to say that with such sincerity. There used to be a time where you actually respected me as a business partner, wasn’t there?”

Coco glanced under the table, seeing the big red security button underneath. She hesitated to push it however. After all, Rarity had every right to be here and if the police were called who would they believe? The salesmare or the actual owner of the boutique who just happened to be dating a Princess.

As she looked back up, she saw Rarity approach like a predator who had cornered its prey.

“Tell me, Coco,” Rarity continued, “How long have you been planning to stab me in the back for? A month, two, a year?” She growled and a burst of magic surged forth, knocking Coco back and pinning her against the wall. “How long have you been planning this for, you traitorous little bitch?”

Coco was between a rock and a hard place. The wall obviously refused to budge and the magic that clung to her was equally hesitant to give. Rarity doubled down with her efforts, practically crushing Coco and knocking the wind from her lungs.

“I might not look like it but I am a very capable spellcaster,” Rarity said. “Even Twilight says that I have such potential with the art.”

Just when Coco thought her body would shatter, the magic slackened and she slid to the ground in a heap. She whimpered softly and threw a hoof in front of her face as if that mere appendage would protect her.

“Please,” she whimpered. “I know I shouldn’t have done this but…”

“Hush with your whining,” Rarity scolded. “If you have the gall to stab a mare in the back, at very least have the courage to look her in the eye when she seeks revenge.”

Coco nodded and lowered her hoof, forcing herself to look up at Rarity.

There was pure fire in Rarity’s gaze as she glared down at Coco. This was a mare who was pissed off and wasn’t trying in the slightest to hide it.

“Tell me Coco,” Rarity said, her voice eerily calm. “How would you describe the fashion industry to an outsider?”

Coco blinked. “What?”

“It’s a simple question, darling,” Rarity stepped around the counter, now standing overtop of Coco. “Pick an adjective.”

Coco bit her lip. “Cutthroat?”

This earned her a smile from Rarity. A big toothy grin that did nothing to settle Coco’s nerves. In fact, it only made the pit in her stomach deepen, turning it into a chasm that seemed to absorb every positive emotion that could ever exist.

“I was really hoping that would be your choice of vocabulary,” Rarity said.

Her horn glowed and she reached into her saddlebag. She withdrew a kitchen knife, holding it at her side.

Coco cried out and tried to scurry away but there was no more room to retreat as her back clanged against a filing cabinet. Her gaze flicked towards the alarm button. Now that there was a weapon involved, she had no choice.

She lunged for it, clapping her hoof against it.

And just like that…

Absolutely nothing happened.

Rarity blinked.

Coco blinked.

“Guess, I’ll have to talk to Trotsky about getting that checked out,” Rarity murmured. “Won’t do to have a shop that’s in desperate need of basic maintenance. If I even decide to still keep this little hole in the wall locale.” She then shook her head. “Anyways, where were we?”

“Please,” Coco pleaded. “I’m so so sorry. I promise I’ll withdraw the offer on the property. I’ll… I’ll take a pay cut. Just please…”

Rarity tutted. “Now, now Coco, if I wanted you to beg, I’d ask for it. No, dear, you are about to discover just how cutthroat this industry really is.”

Rarity drew the edge of the blade towards Coco.

Without any room for retreat, all she could do was flinch. This did little however as Rarity pressed the blunted edge of the blade against Coco’s throat.

She let it linger there, the dulled material pressing into her coat. The steel was so cold that it made Coco shiver. Though that likely could’ve been the fear coursing through her veins as well.

“It’d be so easy,” Rarity said, more to herself than Coco. “One little slice and your miserable little life would be over in a second.” She hummed and hawed at the idea but in the end shook her head. “But where would be the finesse in that? Just a torrent of red and it’s all over. A moment of passion and nothing more.”

She drew the knife away, earning a sigh of relief from her prey.

Coco shivered, looking up at Rarity and trying her best not to cry. If she were going to die, she didn’t want to go out a sniveling and helpless mess.

“Just do it,” Coco hissed. “We both know how this is going to end.”

“I mean I am well aware of that,” Rarity muttered, inspecting the blade. “But why would I make this quick and painless? Why would I waste a perfectly good living subject on something so brutish and swift? No Coco…” She wiggled the blade back and forth in front of her eyes. “We are going to make something truly beautiful out of you.” She let out a note of cruel laughter. “Though I suppose there is a nucleus of good news. You’ll be contributing to one last piece of art in your lifetime, Coco. Doesn’t that make you happy?””

Rarity’s horn pulsed and she pressed the tip of the blade into Coco’s cheek, applying just enough pressure that the sharpened edge broke flesh.

Coco hissed, wincing as a sharp pain ebbed through her complexion. She could feel the warmth of her blood pool to the surface and drain down her cheek. Even if she refused to cry, Rarity would make do, ensuring that her cheeks were stained by tears of red in her final moments.

“Did that hurt, darling?” Rarity asked.

She drew the blade away and Coco could see that it was tarnished with red, a droplet of her essence dripping away from the steel and landing upon the hardwood floors.

Rarity winced. “This is really going to be a bitch to clean up after, isn’t it? Probably best that we don’t let that little problem distract us however.”

She examined Coco once again. Her smile returned. That perverse little grin that she’d shown earlier.

She drew the knife towards her own muzzle and Coco watched in absolute horror as she licked the coating of red that lingered upon it.

“Delicious,” Rarity cooed before offering a knowing smirk. “Have you ever tasted blood before?”

Coco shook her head but couldn’t bring herself to manage words.

“Well you should, dear, because yours is simply divine.” Rarity drew the knife towards Coco, holding the blade in front of her snout. “Here… have a sample.”

Coco looked at it and tried to flinch away. Though the pesky lack of space made that impossible once again.

Rarity frowned. “Coco, dearest, I fully intend to cut out your traitorous little tongue. You get to choose if that happens while you’re conscious or not.”

And that’s when the floodgates cracked and the first genuine tears drained down Coco’s cheeks. They mixed in with the blood. She reluctantly extended her tongue and licked at the ration of red that remained upon the blade.

It had a strong taste of metal and was eerily warm. The sensation of it upon Coco’s tongue was enough to make her gag. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at Rarity as she let it linger upon her taste buds. It probably wouldn’t please Rarity to spit it out, so she reluctantly swallowed, feeling her stomach churn as it settled within her gullet.

Rarity chuckled softly. “Good filly.”

As Coco opened her eyes, she saw just how amused Rarity looked. It was enough to make Coco’s stomach churn once more, realizing that this mare was seriously deranged. She wanted to throw up but did everything in her power to deny this urge.

“See, if you would’ve acted this obedient as my employee instead of being a backstabbing cunt, then maybe we wouldn’t be in a position like this,” Rarity barked.

She brought the knife over to Coco, resting the pointed tip against her collarbone.

“Well I suppose we should stop with the appetizers and actually continue with tonight’s main course,” Rarity said.

She drew the blade an inch down, pulled it back, and lunged forwards, stabbing it right into Coco’s shoulder.

An explosion of pain erupted from Coco and she yelled in utter agony. She prayed that someone could hear her misery and call for help. Though her voice was soon muffled as Rarity tore fabric away from a nearby gown, stuffing it in Coco’s mouth and using her magic to keep it there.

Coco’s world was a swirl of pain and her vision darkened around the peripheries.

Was she going to pass out?

Rarity twisted the blade and a surge of adrenaline poured into Coco’s system. She bolted awake, her gaze narrowing to pinpricks. There was no getting away from the sharp fire of the steel as every little movement would make it cut into more flesh and muscle.

As she looked down at the wound, she saw a belch of red gush outwards, draining along her foreleg. A foreleg which was now numb and largely unresponsive.

Rarity’s eyes were alight and there was a frantic quality to her gaze.

“God this really is thrilling?” Rarity whispered. She reached forwards with a hoof and brushed aside Coco’s mane, making sure that it was out of her eyes. “That really was quite the erotic little scream. Shame that we’re in Manehattan. If we were in Canterlot or Ponyville I wouldn’t need to gag you.” She shook her head. “Though I suppose I should be thankful for the privacy we do have. Manehattan is the only city where people ignore a screaming mare.”

She drew the knife out and Coco let out another muffled sob of pure agony. Her vision swam and she was forced to blink away the black spots that had crept into her vision.

She was going to die.

The thought should’ve been alarming but at the moment she just felt numb. She wondered briefly if this was what shock felt like. Surely, she must’ve been going into it.

Rarity levitated the knife over, holding it right above Coco’s heart. She let the tip of the blade tickle at her flesh but she was surprisingly controlled and tender with her motions. She didn’t leave so much as a scratch behind.

Instead of cutting Coco, she started to trace a design in her blood, leaving behind a series of three red gemstones upon her chest. They held their shape for but a moment before the blood’s surface tension broke and beads of red drained down, obeying gravity and ruining the design.

“Shame I can’t carve that into you, dear,” Rarity muttered. “But I already question my abilities when it comes to disposing your body. So maybe it’s best that I don’t leave behind such a blatantly obvious calling card, right?”

She drew forth another piece of cloth, wiping the blade upon it. There was a slow and careful purpose to the action. It was like she was doing this as part of a performance and not so much to actually clean her weapon.

“You’ve been dreadfully silent, dearest,” Rarity murmured, looking Coco in the eye. “I do hope you haven’t gone into shock with just a little cut like that.”

She withdrew the gag and held it a couple of inches away from Coco’s lips.

A million thoughts went through Coco’s brain. Voices that told her to concede. Voices that told her to beg. Voices that told her to fight back. They battled for dominance within her mind, meaning that all that could come forth was a pathetic dribble of sobbed syllables that bore little coherency.

“You know I’ve never done this before,” Rarity said, looking at Coco but ignoring her pitiful attitude. “I might seem calm, cool, and collective but I’m just as terrified as you are, dear. If not more so. You know how this will end for you but I have little idea of what will become of me. Will I be caught, will I get away scot free, or will this little episode colour my personality for years to come.” She flashed a grim smile. “I do have a taste for blood now, after all, and I will say that the flavour is only a little revolting.”

Coco watched as a brief bout of hesitation flashed across Rarity’s face. It was a tiny moment, festering with something that almost looked like regret.

But it was gone as quickly as it came as Rarity placed the knife against the underside of Coco’s muzzle. She drew it across her flesh gently, allowing the blunted edge to travel from her snout and along her exposed throat.

Coco stayed perfectly still. A bead of sweat formed upon her brow. The droplet felt cold and clammy, much like the foreleg which had now lost all feeling.

“Please,” she whispered, trying her best not to swallow her nerves lest this meagre action cause the knife to cut. “I’ll… I’ll say it was a robbery! We can both get out of this alive.”

Rarity snorted. “And why should I trust a word you say. You were so willing to stab me in the back and that was before you knew what I was capable of.” She shook her head. “You’re too risky to leave alive. One of us is going to die tonight, Coco, and I’m sorry to say that the odds are in my favour.”

She flicked the knife away, allowing Coco to take an unsteady breath. “It’s a shame really.” She looked out upon the shop. “This place will likely be ashes by the end of the night. Arson will be my best chance of an alibi. Though insurance money is a mere tribute compared to the treasure of memories I’ve built here.” She glanced at Coco. “That we’ve built here, darling.”

There were tears in her eyes, legitimate tears.

“Why?” Rarity whispered.

“Why?” Coco asked right back.

Rarity’s grip quivered and the tip of the blade sagged. “I picked you up from the dirt, Miss Pommel. I built your reputation in tandem with my own. I gave you so much and I would’ve given so much more if you just would’ve asked!” She snarled and her grip strengthened. “I would’ve given you this stupid shop if you just would’ve asked.”

She lashed out and drew a shallow cut right across Coco’s chest. It exploded with a red-hot pain that sank deep into her frame. Coco watched as more of her precious blood bubbled to the surface and further coloured her cream coat.

“Why did you need to go behind my back?” Rarity barked.

Coco looked up at her. She could feel the concession upon the tip of her tongue, the truth.

But instead she smiled.

“No.”

Rarity blinked. “Pardon?”

“I am not going to tell you why I did it, Rarity. I will take that secret with me to the grave because I know it will eat you alive.” Coco chuckled, wincing at the pain in her shoulder as she shook. “It will haunt you day after day, wondering why I did it, until you die as helpless and feeble as I am now.”

Rarity looked her in the eye. Then seeing the determination behind that stand, solemnly bowed her head. “So be it, Miss Pommel.”

She drew the knife back and plunged it forcefully into Coco’s stomach.

The cloth was once more shoved between her lips, doing its best to muffle the howls of utter agony that escaped from her. The pain was intense, blinding, sending her vision swimming as she tried to focus upon anything else.

Rarity drew the knife across her gullet and pulled it free, leaving a gruesome wound behind.

Through tear-stained eyes Coco forced herself to look down, seeing a mess of red and grey spilling forth from the wound.

These were her intestines. Her supposedly ‘internal’ organs.

Her stomach churned at the sight. It felt even weirder than before due to her stomach’s new position.

With equal labour, she forced herself to look away from the gore, and up at the ever-demented Rarity Belle.

Her former friend, her former mentor sneered at her as she placed the blade against her throat.

“It has been a pleasure Miss Pommel,” she hissed, swiping her weapon to the side.

Coco felt the incision. Her life spilled forth, gushing outwards due to the pressure of her ever-powerful carotid arteries. Each beat of her rapidly weakening heart was paired with a rapidly diminishing geyser of fresh blood.

She felt such an intense pain.

Then she felt cold.

Then she felt numb.

Then she felt darkness.

Then she felt nothing at all.