Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you here.”

I was back at AAHQ, per the summons I had received. Almost a year had passed since I reported my rape.

“I sent the boys round with a spatula,” Bob Call continued.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“I had you followed when you left. You were up on the top of the city observation deck; the officer said you jumped, but we didn’t find a body. Would you care to comment?”

Dammit, how had I been followed and not noticed? Something was wrong about that. Had the officer following me seen me steal fistful of holy fire from the last rays of the setting sun? Or witnessed my use of the Soft Landing spell when I touched down, blocks away? How could he not, and if so, why didn’t Bob ask about that?

“I’m sure it was nothing anomalous,” I bluffed.

He frowned, but did not question further.

“We have reviewed your testimony and obtained corroborating evidence. Officer Angstrom has pleaded guilty, so there was no need to call you to the stand.”

“Then what do you need me for now?”

“To pull the trigger.”

“Me?”

“You have first right to execute him since you made us aware that we had a criminal in our ranks. Routine procedure.”

He handed me a pistol shaped device. The end of barrel presented an energy transducer instead of an aperture for projectiles.

“Right on the temple, it’s instantaneous and perfectly humane. We left a mark for you. If you don’t want to do this, we’ll turn him over to the Oligarchy’s Special Enforcers. They just love people who pretend to be them and his bodycam got a clear shot of the fake seal he wore. They’ll skin him alive for that alone.”

“I can do it. I wouldn’t have bothered filing the charges if I wasn’t serious.”

I stepped into the execution chamber and looked at the humane killer in my hand. Above the trigger was a lever with three marks: an ‘X’, a single dot, and a dashed line. I moved the lever from the dot to the dashed line and turned to face my rapist.

He looked rough. Bruises, a bit of blood, and the angle of one of his arms was not right where it was strapped to the chair. I had to hand it to the Agency, they were serious as they had promised when it came to dealing with a rogue agent.

On the side of his head, a smiley face drawn with a marker on his skin. One pulse of the device in my hand would end his existence as a livingcreature.

But in spite of the injuries, his sneer was unchanged, his spirit unbroken.

“You don’t have the nerve, hole,” he groaned.

I didn’t waste time wondering if he was really foolish enough to try to psych me out, or if he was trying to provoke me to end this quickly. Instead I pressed the weapon firmly against his side where the seventh rib attached to the sternum. I pulled the trigger – the tip of the device buzzed violently like a sonic chisel, liquefying tissue and powdering bone without breaking the skin. Holding the trigger down, I traced a horseshoe shape up his chest, severing ribs all the way, across the top, pulverizing his sternum where it attached to his collar bone, and severing the ribs going down the other side. Not a drop of blood showed in spite of the carnage taking place inside his body.

Less than three seconds elapsed and other Agency men were rushing into the execution chamber. I safed the device and handed it to the first agent to approach me.

“Not so fucking humane if you ask me,” I said.

Affronted by my coldness he accepted the weapon and said naught.

All five witnessing agents had rushed in to stop me, but since I no longer had the weapon they didn’t know what to do. Instead they stared helplessly at the dying man. Not quite the instantly tidy execution they had anticipated. He tried to take a breath but his destroyed thorax did not support the effort – instead of drawing air into his lungs his sternum was sucked grotesquely inward, increasing his agony until he was involuntarily wracking his body in the restraints.

Justice had indeed been served.

I turned to leave.

Now Mercy demanded for herself a portion. Before I had taken so much as a step towards the door, the numb detachment I had felt crystallized into irrefusable icy determination. I knew I was right to end his crimes, for the sake of future victims, for my own sake, and for retribution on one who dared touch Twilight’s property, myself. But I found that Vengeance sickened me even more than the memory of what I had suffered.

I whirled back to face the dying man. He still couldn’t draw breath and his eyes were wild with horror. Staring, fixed, at a presence his former comrades could not see, he knows he is already dead. I took a deep breath and placed my lips on his. Exhaling into his lungs, I granted him one impossible last breath of air.

He forced it to become words.

“I’m sorry.”

For the last milliseconds his face held a look something like regret.

“Lady Hel, have mercy,” I intoned dully as dead eyes glazed.

“I’m not known mercy, mortal.”

Hel Lokidotr stood at my shoulder, in all her piebald glory: half beautiful pale flesh, half rotting corruption. The loose garment she wore emphasized the nakedness of her perfect skin and flaunted the horror of her decay. She looked down upon me, her good eye icy cold, the blackened socket on the other side of her face dripping baleful ruin.

“I am here to fetch the dead for damnation.”

Damnation is a heavy thing; no mortal soul was designed to suffer the punishment of archangels.

“He repented before death.” I was suddenly contrary.

“He was already dead when he spoke.”

“You can’t call a mortal dead while his last breath is on his lips,” I argued.

“Do you forgive him?” she demanded.

“O accursed Lady, I shall forgive him to spite you.”

“These agents of law are the thralls of Justice. You alone in this room have the right to cry Mercy.”

The thralls of justice were backing away from me: they could not see Hel, but a holy terror was infectious among them nonetheless. One had soiled himself, another bolted out the door.

I looked at the dead man.

Damnation is a heavy thing: his would not undo the rape I had suffered.

“I do so cry.”

“As you will, so mote it be.”

Hel shielded her face with a skeletal hand, as though she was blinded by a light I could not see. And then she was gone.

It was then that Strength abandoned me. I collapsed to weep and retch on the floor at the dead man’s feet.

—

Eventually one of the agents put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me to my feet after a moment. She led me to a restroom, started warm water running. Numbly I washed my face.

“Bob wants to see you,” she said after my dubious ablutions.

Instead of his office, this was a small interview room. Pointedly I stood while he sat.

“You put me in an awkward position,” he said.

“How have I troubled you?” I asked, “was it something about how I killed–”

“No, nothing about the execution. You could have skinned him or boiled him to death for all I care. Forgive me the bad timing, but I have to say this. Last time I didn’t say anything you jumped off a fucking building. I like you. I was wondering–”

“Sorry. I’m not available. I have a husband who is trying to get back to me.”

“I know what you told Angstrom – do you really believe all that?”

“I do. Twilight is very powerful and will eventually find a way.”

“Understood. It’s not much, but I will file to acknowledge your marriage as having been officiated under unusual circumstances.” Surely the fiat declaration of an alien demi-god would count as unusual. “You’ll be able to use the name Sparkle officially.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that very much. It means a lot to me.”

“You’ll get a new ID in day or two. Is it okay if I check up on you once in a while? Make sure you’re alright?”

“And check to see if I’ve given up on Twilight?”

“No! You obviously believe in him with all your heart. I'd rather see you as his, than see you broken without that faith. But even if you’re spoken for, it would do me good to know that you are okay.” There was note of something unspoken in his voice.

“Tell me, Bob” I said, stepping closer to where he sat.

“He recorded it, Angstrom did, he had a diverter on his optic nerve. He videoed all his rapes, the murders, everything. I had to review all the evidence. I saw exactly what he did to you, through his eyes.”

I burnt with shame at the thought of anyone watching me in the involuntary throes that terrible orgasm.

But if I was shamed from being seen, he was shattered from seeing.

Instinctively reacting to his pain I pulled him to me, let him bury his face between my breasts as he held me tight.

“You weren’t faking, were you?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“I’ve never needed to fake, so I didn’t dare try to fool him. My daughter’s life was at stake.”

“I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

“You bear no responsibility. And you took action: I have no complaint against you.”

“I wish I had murdered him the moment I was promoted to this office.”

“I’d be better off if you had.” I stroked his hair gently. “And we would have never met. But better for you that you should suffer unrequited love than the blood guilt of murder.”

His arms around my waist loosened, hands sliding down my back.

“I could have taken field duty that day.”

“But why would you? You’re the senior officer.”

“If I had– he wouldn't– you–”

“I would have still had to reject your advances. And he would be out there today, finding other victims.”

“I know but— ah!” he cried as he realized where his palms had rested. He scooted his chair away, apologizing wildly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to grab your bottom!”

“No harm done. Thank you for demonstrating self control. I respect that.”

He took a deep breath, and I stepped away. The intimate moment was past.

“Do you,” he spoke quietly, shame in his voice as he offered, “want a wipe?”

I probably could have had the memories erased legally if I had sought trauma care instead of hiding. But this belated opportunity—

“No! How can I keep myself safe if I forget what happened?”

And I would owe Twilight an explanation when she did return.

“Understood. I have an item of yours to return, if you want.”

I made a wild guess.

“Is it my missing underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Can you throw them away? I won’t be wearing them again after he’s treasured them.”

“Of course. Do you mind signing an affidavit identifying them as yours? It’s just one more checkbox I can tick to show that we really got the right guy.”

“I can do that much.”

He pulled an evidence bag from a folder. Inside it was a cellophane keepsake bag containing my missing panties, ironed flat. The keepsake bag was neatly labeled with my name and other information.

“Those are mine.” I said, “what’s nine point eight?”

“I advise you not to inquire.”

“Please tell me.”

“He was very methodical about rating all his rapes on zero to ten scale. His notes detail that you gave him the greatest orgasm of his life. He was terrified the entire time.”

“Of what?”

“Of you. I think he knew it would end like this.”

“You were right,” I said, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Tossing the bagged garment into a trash receptacle, while I signed and initialed yet another form, he remarked, “one of the men said that you spoke the name of Loki’s daughter. After the execution. It sounded like you had a conversation with her.”

I had noticed a scar that might be a rune branded onto his wrist. Mr. Call might well be an Odinite, which could put him on unfriendly terms with the Trickster and his get.

“Aye, she was present for the event.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t there to see her.”

“Lady Hel isn’t evil.”

“I’ve sent several to her halls. I’m not sure I could bear her gratitude.”

“She’s not known for gratitude.”

“They said you forgave him.”

“He can’t hurt anyone now. And vengeance isn’t worth piss.”