A Sticky Situation Indeed
I Don't Even, and Neither Do You
“What are you?” Twilight asked the gowling, nebulous form before her.
“Don’t forget,” It said. A horrible, shimmering sound that rattled the very fabric of the blankness surrounding them.
Apparently, the unicorn's query was beneath Its notice.
Twilight rolled her eyes. She'd grown sick of cryptic garbage somewhere between the Hitherto and the Paper Ocean. And she was fully prepared to dish out the swift beatings to any who tried her patience needlessly. This thing which laughed and shone and shook, included.
“Don’t forget what?”
“Never forget, my child,” It trailed off, distracted or perhaps lost in thought.
Yeah, we're pretty much done here.
Twilight stretched, preparing for the biblical devastation her hoof would soon lay down. Although just then, luckily for her soon-to-be-hapless-victim, the creature seemed to recall Its intent.
“Never forget that you, are a unicorn," It 'said' at her.
Awesome. That was great advice, thank you.
The thing bobbed, satisfied--if indeed such a creature experienced satisfaction--that Its message had been delivered. The unicorn resumed preparations; winding up her beat-down-hoof. She took aim as best she could.
Only to realize the beatings would not be swift enough. As the, whatever It was, began fading into the...wherever they were.
“Ugh! Wait!” she called out, "What the hoof was that even supposed to mean?" Useless. It wasn’t coming back, stuff like that never came back.
“I know, right? Fate sure has a cruel sense of humor, ” said Pinkie Pie (who had clearly been there the whole time) between licks of her ice cream cone.
“Pff, tell me about it. And you only get one shot to make the punchline,” Twilight sighed as she sat herself down onto, whatever it was in the blankness which held her. The ground? Thinking about it at any real depth caused her physical pain, so distraction was often required. Of course, that wasn't the only reason she focused upon-
“Is that,” she said, her voice quavering, “is that ice cream?”
Pinkie licked the cone, tilting her head as she thought.
“Probably?” she shrugged.
That was good enough for Twilight, at least her friend was honest. Instead of veiling her uncertainty with ambiguous 'riddles' that made them both look like idiots.
The point being that Ice cream was very hard to come by in the featureless void.
“Can I have some?”
“I dunno Twilight," Pinkie's voice became heavy with accusation, "it’s horn flavored, isn't that kinda like cannibalism?”
Sparkle fumed at the nothingness for a time. That figures, it would be horn flavored.
Just then something metal, something hard struck her face, plunging her from dream to reality. The inertial fog of sleep lingered upon her brain, slowing her understanding. Her cheek stung and when she tried to move, she found herself tightly bound to a chair.
There was a metallic pop, followed by the vicious hiss of carbon dioxide.
She snapped her head upward. On the desk before her, perched like a gargoyle, was a can of soda. Its sickeningly obnoxious purple label trapped a weak glint from a morning just before the light of dawn. Laying beside him, a nine-millimeter handgun. The word ‘Lord’ emblazoned upon it. The safety was off.
She scanned the area, eyes widening. He wasn’t alone, an entire six-pack had found its way into her room. And without coasters, no less. Such reprehensible disregard for the sanctity of someone else’s furniture could only mean one thing;
Pirates!
Twilight's heart rate took off as she began to panic. Her little adrenal glands pumped their little payload into her little body as fight-or-flight began to seize control. Higher logic functions were declining.
She'd heard the stories, knew what happened to those who encountered these particular sorts of beverages. The lengths to which such drinks would go. The people they would hurt with--or without--reason.
Wait a minute.
They made it all the way up through the library. Which means, at some point, they had to get through--
“What did you do with Spike?” she thrashed against her restraints.
The open can gleamed at her with a cold, aluminum malice. The beverage seemed to exude his psychopathy into the chilled air between them. Tainting it with the stench of blood. Twilight felt an emptiness as she began to accept; there would be time to mourn Spike later.
“W-what do you want?” Twilight choked back a sob.
The can seemed closer now, towering above her from his desktop throne. As much as he seemed to love every second of dominance, there was an impatience to the gleam and fizz that did not go unnoticed.
Twilight ventured a guess “There’s money in-”
There was an almighty CRACK that split the air as pistol met cheekbone. She tasted blood.
Carbonation hissed angrily. Gasses slammed themselves against metal in agitation. The sun began to rise, spilling blood across the window pane and turning the pirate's label the color of rage.
“Then what do you want?”
The hard, metallic edges of the Pirate Lord blocked the light, throwing a shadow of condescension upon the condemned unicorn. Her constraints made it difficult to breathe.
“What? I never did that!”
He hit her again.
“I’m sorry!” Twilight's reaction was automatic, “Whatever I did to offend you, I’m sorry!”
The sound of bubbles danced gleefully, and without remorse. She knew, with a dread that gripped her heart, that no apology could ever save her.
And, for some reason, it was then that she remembered a distant voice from a half-forgotten dream. And it was then that she knew what to do. So, with a deep breath, she kicked her powers into life. Simply took the gun.
The sun arced ever higher into the sky, warming the room with a golden, and triumphant light. Condensation began to form upon the weak tin container before her. She slipped her restraints with a tug of her unicorn magic, and stood towering over the pirates. The scholar took a deep, soothing breath. And for a moment all was still.
That's when Twilight Sparkle lost it.
“You thought you could come into my home?” she screamed, as she squeezed the trigger. Brilliant light and deafening sound leapt from the muzzle of the weapon as it claimed its first victim.
“Kill my dragon?” magic trailed off the weapon as it danced through the air, another round found its target with a pitiful clank and a hiss.
“And take me hostage?” her ears rang violently as she punched through two cans with one shot, their inner sugary fluids a grim cascade.
“Do you even know who I am?” the final thug was torn asunder with a blast of liquid and the whimper of metal on metal.
Twilight's face burned of gunshot residue and righteous fury as she began to calm. Her room was silent as a crypt, save for the ever dying static of gas as it escaped toward the heavens, fleeing the sticky fluids which so darkly stained her floorboards. The purple can upon the desk had gone flat.
“Let me enlighten you then," she took another deep breath and dropped the weapon, "My name, is Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight stepped forward and grabbed her assailant with magic, the can looked slick from sweat.
She paused.
“And I’m going to drink you,” The Pirate Slayer threw her head back, and finished her adversary in one go.