Authors note: I decided to write this fanfic from an idea that just sorta came to me one day. I have to admit, I don’t really know where i want this story to go, but I’m sure it will turn out alright. For those of you that have read my Team Fortress 2 fanfic, I have had a change of heart, and will most likely be continuing the story. Sorry for being a monumental jackass. I am also looking for an editor to help make my stories better. If you have any interest, send me a message once the system is online again.
He looked over the smoldering ruins of what used to be a trade caravan. Across the ground were the dead bodies of the few who had attempted to defend it. Although excited at all the loot they had just obtained, he still felt a pang of guilt for killing them. No matter, there was still looting to do, and he had every intention of finishing the job.
He turned over a few carts looking for valuables. He found some fancy looking silverware and a few gold watches. He searched the pockets of the dead and found a few bits
Another came up to him, his boss, Jigsaw. Jigsaw was a large, muscular pony who’s navy blue mane was splattered with blood. He smiled with a savage glee. He gave Jigsaw what he had found. “Great haul today! We should be able to flip most of this stuff for some nice coin!”
Just as he was about to respond, another member of his outfit ran up. “Hey, I found a mare and some foals hiding in one of the carts, what are we gonna do with them?”
Jigsaw thought for a moment. “Kill them all.”
This command startled him. He had come across mares and foals before, but he was never told to kill them. “We can’t do that, Jigsaw, they’re completely defenseless!”
“Why the hell not? Last time I checked, I ran things around here.”
“Nah, this ain’t right. I ain’t doin’ it!”
Jigsaw loomed over him, his face mere inches from his own. “Did I just hear you defy a direct command?” he said in a dangerously quiet tone.
“I...I...Uhhh.....” Although he was one of the tougher ponies, even he was afraid of Jigsaw. He wasn’t the boss for nothing.
“Listen to me you piece of trash! You do what I say, when I say it! You got that?”
“I....Yes sir.....”
“Good! and if I EVER hear you defy me again, I will have you killed you maggot! Now go do what I asked you to do!”
He tentatively began to walk towards where they were penned up. They were all staring up at him fearfully. He raised his revolver up to their faces. One of the mothers began to plead with him. "Please no! Don't hurt my children! We haven't done anything wrong!"
He stood there silently and pulled the hammer back. He aimed it at the mother first.
"Kill me if you want, but please don't hurt my little foals! Please!"
"Im sorry...." He whispered. He pulled the trigger, and the mother went limp. He then pointed his gun at the older one of the two, a colt. Tears were streaming down his face. He fired, and the colt too went limp. Then he turned to the young filly.
She didn't cry or beg, she just sat there staring at him. He almost wished she would beg, almost wished she would cry. She herself didn't say a word, but her eyes said it all. They asked him one question : Why? He pulled the trigger, averting his eyes as the filly hit the ground. "I dont know....." he muttered.
Jigsaw came over to see if the job was done. "See? That wasn't so hard! Burn the bodies so we can get outta here."
He dragged the corpses into a pile and doused them with lamp oil. Before he lit the match, he took one last glance down at them.
He would never forget those faces......
Brass finished the last of his drink. That incident had been fifteen years ago, but it still haunted him to this day. He could never get their faces out of his head. He asked the bartender for another drink.
“I haven’t seen you around before, you new here?” asked the bartender.
“Nope, just passin’ through.”
“Where are you headed stranger?”
“Ponyville.”
“What sorta business does a fella like you have in Ponyville?”
“I got a job there, first train leaves tomorrow mornin’.”
“Well, good luck to ya.”
“Thanks pardner.” Brass paid for his drinks, then left the bar.
He looked around the streets of Appaloosa. He had fenced a few items here, and on occasion pulled off a burglary job, but he was still unfamiliar with the place. He might have stayed, had it not been for the fact that one of Jigsaw’s hideouts was nearby.
Jigsaw. He hated him. He wanted to tear apart every last fiber of his being. And he was sure that Jigsaw felt the same way after he ran out on his gang a little while back. He had spent the past year trying to evade Jigsaw’s crew, living a life of never staying in one place. He had almost given up hope, when he saw a help wanted ad for a place in Ponyville. He had never been to Ponyville, probably because everybody there was straight laced and clean. That made it perfect for him, Jigsaw’s crew would never look for him in a goody-four-hooves town like Ponyville. This was his chance, his one and only shot at a normal life. Since that day fifteen years ago, all he wanted to do was go somewhere where he could forget everything, where he could start fresh.
He looked up at the clock in the town square. It was nearly midnight. He went to the nearest motel. It was a seedy place, but it was fine for one night. He payed for his room and went inside it. He hung his hat and coat on the coat rack, and placed his few possessions on the side table: a six-shooter revolver, his wallet, and a small pocket knife his father had owned. He looked at the knife somberly. He still remembered the day when his father was killed by loan sharks when he failed to repay his debt. This knife was all he had left of him. Brass sighed. He lay down on his bed and shut off the light. He spent another sleepless night thinking about what had happened fifteen years ago, their faces still fresh in his mind.
