Left behind-GREEN

Chapter 1: Bound by Ties and Lies

The echo of the judge’s gavel resounded through the courtroom, a solitary note of finality that seemed to linger in the thick air. "Not guilty."

Chaos erupted like a storm, an angry symphony of screams and curses filling the room. The gallery, packed with ponies, broke into a cacophony of outrage. Cries of "murderer" and "the death of justice" rang out, a chorus of the damned condemning the verdict. Royal Guards struggled to contain the surging tide of fury, their hooves pressed against the swell of bodies desperate to breach the barrier between spectator and defendant.

Bad Apple, dressed in a sharp black suit with a crimson tie that contrasted against his dark coat, stood beside his client with an air of unshakable confidence. The mare beside him—Blood Diamond, a pampered scion of Canterlot's elite—exhaled a breath she must have been holding for days. Relief washed over her face, but it was the smug smile that caught Bad Apple's attention. It was the same arrogant curve of the lips he'd seen countless times before, the hallmark of those who believe they are untouchable. Today, that belief had been reaffirmed. She had gotten away with murder, and his bank account was several thousand bits heavier for it.

The enchanted gavel came down again, its sound magical in its ability to silence the room. The angry cries died instantly, leaving only the heart-wrenching sobs of the victim’s mother. Bad Apple’s eyes flicked to her briefly—Short Sprint, a mare broken by grief, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of her loss. He quickly dismissed her from his thoughts. Her sorrow was inconsequential to him, a mere footnote in the grander scheme of things.

The judge’s gaze—a mix of sadness and barely restrained fury—fixed on Bad Apple and Blood Diamond. But Bad Apple was used to that look. It was the price of being the best at what he did. The judge’s eyes flicked upward, seeking something, or someone. There, in the upper seats, sat Princess Celestia. The judge’s look was almost desperate, pleading for intervention. But the Princess, with her millennia of practiced poise, remained as unmoving as a statue. She was the embodiment of blind justice today, though Bad Apple suspected she was well aware of the irony. After a moment, the judge sighed, realizing no divine intervention was forthcoming.

"Mrs. Blood Diamond, you have been found not guilty by a jury of your peers." The words were forced, heavy with the judge's disapproval. "However, it is clear that you were intoxicated while operating your carriage and speeding in a residential area. By the power vested in me by Princess Celestia, you are hereby ordered to pay 1,000 bits to the family of the deceased, Long Strider. Additionally, you are mandated to attend rehabilitation. If you cannot afford it, the state will assign one for you."

The final strike of the gavel punctuated the judge's statement, officially ending the trial. Bad Apple could already see the post-trial motions brewing in the minds of the prosecution. Good. More chances to drag this out, more chances to bill his client’s obscenely wealthy parents.

As the courtroom began to empty, everyone stood as Princess Celestia rose to leave, the courtroom protocol demanding respect even from those who felt none. Bad Apple, ever the rebel, sat down before she exited, a small act of defiance he knew would go unnoticed by most but not all. It was one of the reasons he was called arrogant. But arrogance was relative, and in Canterlot, it was a currency he traded in daily.

Blood Diamond, oblivious to his thoughts, wrapped her hooves around him in a hug, her relief palpable, her gratitude irritating. “Thank you, thank you. I thought I was going to have to spend the rest of my life with the…” She shuddered, the word 'lower class' hanging unspoken in the air, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “…in the dungeons.”

Bad Apple smiled, but it was a smile devoid of warmth, more a calculated gesture to keep her under his influence. “No problem,” he responded smoothly, the words automatic, rehearsed. He began to gather his things, his mind already on the next step. “I can escort you to my office, and we can discuss your final payment.”

Blood Diamond beamed, her joy as irritating as her hug. “Yes, and thank you. Those vultures out there will be waiting for me. I don’t understand why Celestia hasn’t banned the paparazzi and those reporters out of Canterlot yet. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Bad Apple chuckled, extending his hoof to her. “Then let's get going.”

As they stepped out of the courtroom, they were met by the inevitable swarm of reporters. Their questions were as sharp and probing as ever, but Bad Apple had dealt with them enough times to parry their words with practiced indifference. Blood Diamond walked like a queen among peasants, her nose high, ignoring their jabs and accusations of bribery. Bad Apple mirrored her, offering only the most generic of responses. "The prosecution's case was strong, but ours was stronger."

They almost made it through unscathed, but just as they reached the stairs, Blood Diamond halted abruptly. Bad Apple, caught off guard, looked ahead and saw her obstacle: a mare, gaunt and broken, her eyes dead and filled with nothing but pain. It took Bad Apple a moment to remember her—Short Sprint, Sky Kicker’s mother.

She was a wreck, her body a shadow of what it had once been, and yet the hatred in her eyes burned with a life that was terrifying in its intensity. Blood Diamond froze, her arrogance melting away under the older mare's gaze.

“Why did you kill my daughter?” The question was a whisper, yet it struck like a thunderclap.

Blood Diamond was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Finally, she managed to stammer out, “I did not kill your daughter. It was a tragic—”

The crack of hoof against stone cut her off, a sound so violent that it echoed through the now silent courtyard. Short Sprint had stomped down with such force that the stone beneath her hoof split. Bad Apple’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the dark tendrils of magic beginning to swirl around the mare. The air crackled with energy, and the look in her eyes left no doubt about her intentions—this was a pony pushed to the edge, driven by a grief so profound it had corrupted her very essence.

Blood Diamond’s eyes went wide, her fear rendering her silent as the crowd watched in stunned silence. The dark magic coiled around Short Sprint, her body trembling with the effort to contain it. The guards hesitated, uncertain of how to approach a situation so charged with raw, unstable power.

But Bad Apple was not one to hesitate. He saw the danger, assessed the risk, and acted. With a swift, decisive motion, he surged forward, his hoof connecting with Short Sprint’s chin with a force that dropped her instantly. The dark magic dissipated, leaving her unconscious and vulnerable on the cold stone steps.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, as if a spell had been broken, the courtyard erupted into chaos. Reporters fled, the guards rushed forward, and Bad Apple was left standing over the unconscious mare, the taste of adrenaline sharp in his mouth. Blood Diamond clung to him, her tears soaking into his coat.

“No, I stopped her before she could finish the spell,” Bad Apple explained to the guards, who were now assessing the situation with the detached professionalism of those used to cleaning up messes.

It took the guards thirty minutes to process everything, and in that time, Bad Apple remained calm, though his answers were vague, his demeanor clearly indicating that he was uninterested in the proceedings. He simply wanted to get it over with. Blood Diamond, on the other hoof, played her part dramatically—tears streaming down her face as she recounted how terrified she had been, how close she had come to death. Her performance was convincing, if a bit overdone.

Finally, the guards let them go, having no reason to detain them further. As Bad Apple walked away, leading the trembling Blood Diamond to safety, his mind was already turning over the events of the day. The incident with Short Sprint was unfortunate, but it was also an opportunity—a chance to further exploit the situation to his advantage. His mind worked quickly, calculating the best way to spin this, the best way to ensure that Blood Diamond’s gratitude translated into more bits.

Later that night, Bad Apple sat at his desk, the soft sound of Blood Diamond’s breathing drifting from the bedroom. The corners of his mouth twitched in a faint smile as he shook his head, muttering to himself, “Annoying, but useful. At least she’s good for something.” His eyes drifted over the mountain of paperwork before him, most of it the tedious aftermath of his latest case. He sighed, reaching for another case file—another politician tangled in yet another scandal. It was all so predictable, but predictability had its uses.

As he sorted through his mail, a letter caught his attention. The seal—a familiar family crest—stopped him cold. He paused, staring at it for a long moment before finally opening it. The contents were simple: an invitation to an Apple family reunion. He read the name at the bottom twice, trying to place it. “Apple bloom… Do I know an Applebloom?” The name tugged at a distant memory, a connection to a life he had left behind long ago. Then it clicked, and his smile returned—this time tinged with bitterness. “Ah, my baby sister. It’s been a long time.”

His smile turned cold as memories he had buried deep resurfaced. He placed the letter on the table, but another slipped out, unnoticed at first. Curious, he picked it up and began to read it aloud.

"Dear Bad Apple,

I hope this letter finds ya well. Mah name's Applebloom. I found an old photo album with yer picture in it, and when I asked 'bout ya, everypony pretended not to know who ya are. But I kept lookin' long enough to figure out who ya were, and I saw yer name in the papers. So, I decided to send ya this letter so we can get to know each other.

I know we ain't never met, but I'd love to change that. I hope ya can come to the get-together we're havin' soon.

Sincerely,
Applebloom”

The handwriting was crude but earnest, each letter pressed into the paper with the force of somepony who truly cared about what they were writing. Bad Apple sneered at the innocence it conveyed. He could almost hear the naive excitement in Applebloom’s voice, the joy of discovering a long-lost sibling. The laugh that escaped him was dark, full of contempt.

“Oh, the innocence of youth,” he muttered, the smile never reaching his eyes. The Apple family had always been a stubborn lot, clinging to their old ways, working the land when they could have made a fortune by selling it off. But maybe this Applebloom could be different. Maybe she could be convinced to see the world through his eyes—once she realized the power that lay in ambition, in greed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hooves behind him. Blood Diamond, now awake, sauntered over and wrapped her hooves around his shoulders, leaning in close. “Still working? Why don’t you come back to bed?” she purred, her voice thick with seduction.

Bad Apple smiled, but it was the smile of a predator. He turned to her, his eyes softening in a way he knew she found irresistible. “I’d love to, my dear, but some family business just came up. However, we do have a little more time…” His voice trailed off, suggestive and inviting, a calculated move to keep her wrapped around his hoof just a little longer.

Blood Diamond’s eyes lit up at the attention, but before she could respond, three sharp knocks echoed through the room, sending a chill down Bad Apple’s spine. Blood Diamond frowned, confused. “I thought you said no one knew about this place.”

Bad Apple’s expression darkened, his playful demeanor vanishing as he grabbed a scrunchie from his drawer and tied it around his foreleg—a small, old habit that reminded him of who he really was, beneath the layers of charm and deceit. “I did.”

He moved to the door, peering through the peephole before letting out a frustrated sigh. Unlatching the door, he revealed two Praetorian Guards. They stepped inside, their presence making way for the towering figures of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.

Blood Diamond immediately dropped to her knees, her arrogance evaporating in the presence of royalty. Bad Apple, however, remained standing, his expression a blend of irritation and defiance. “You could have at least waited until I gave you permission to enter,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Celestia’s face remained serene, but Luna’s eyes flashed with barely restrained anger. The guards, seasoned veterans, took their positions—one by the door, the other strategically close to Bad Apple, ready to act if necessary.

Bad Apple’s mind raced, calculating the situation. Was this the day Celestia would finally rid Equestria of him? He doubted it, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut. As he turned his back on the princesses and walked back to his desk, he knew he was pushing his luck. But that was part of the game, wasn’t it?

“Blood Diamond, you can go,” he said over his shoulder, dismissing her as casually as one would a servant. “We’ll have to reschedule our meeting.” The mare hesitated, her eyes flicking nervously between the princesses and Bad Apple. Luna’s sharp glare was enough to send her running from the room, her earlier confidence shattered.

Bad Apple took his seat, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk as he folded his hooves. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” he drawled, his voice smooth, almost mocking.

The guard near his desk remained still, his presence a silent reminder of the power imbalance in the room. Yet Bad Apple couldn’t help but feel a perverse satisfaction at the sight of the two most powerful ponies in Equestria standing in his office, forced to negotiate with him.

“Sister, it appears the ponies have grown rather bold in my absence,” Luna remarked, her voice laced with disdain.

Bad Apple’s smirk widened. “A thousand years on the moon would leave anyone out of touch with the way things have evolved.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed, her magic sparking at the edges of her horn, but she maintained her composure. “And yet, some things remain disappointingly unchanged. The penchant for certain ponies to mistake insolence for wit, for instance.”

Celestia, ever the diplomat, stepped forward, her tone even and measured. “Forgive our intrusion at this late hour, but we wished to inquire about the incident outside the courthouse and ensure that our citizens are unharmed.”

Bad Apple’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Do you really expect me to believe that you both traveled all this way just to check on me after a little scuffle with a unicorn?”

Luna’s irritation was palpable, but Celestia remained composed. “No, Bad Apple. We came to ensure that justice is served and to discuss the broader implications of such public incidents.”

Bad Apple chuckled, leaning his chin on his hoof, his gaze flicking between the sisters. “Ah, straight to the point then. I doubt you’re here to offer me a cushy position as a prosecutor or a royal justiciar, are you?”

Celestia’s gaze remained steady, though there was a subtle shift in her expression—just enough to suggest a hint of frustration. “Indeed, straight to the point. While your skills are undeniable, your lack of certain virtues makes such positions unsuitable for you. We are here to request that you do not press charges against Short Sprint.”

Bad Apple’s laughter was cold, devoid of any real humor. “Press charges? I had no intention of doing so. It’s irrelevant. She assaulted my client in broad daylight, in front of the courthouse, with paparazzi and guards watching. Pressing charges would be redundant.”

He paused, letting the moment hang in the air as he watched the princesses carefully. This wasn’t about him; it was about Blood Diamond. The princesses weren’t here to protect him—they were here to protect Short Sprint from Blood Diamond’s wrath. The irony was delicious.

Bad Apple’s smile grew, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I see now. You’re not trying to convince me not to press charges—you’re trying to convince my client, Blood Diamond.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “It’s rare when I have something over a princess. Not uncommon, but rare.”

He could see the flicker of recognition in Celestia’s eyes, the unspoken understanding that he held the cards in this game. Luna, however, was less restrained. Her eyes blazed with fury, the temperature in the room dropping as her magic flared in response to her barely contained rage.

Without warning, Luna stepped closer to Bad Apple, her horn igniting with a dark blue light. “You dare mock the crown, insolent wretch?” Her voice was low, dangerous.

Bad Apple didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, every word dripping with venomous intent. “Do you remember the Night Guard, Luna? The loyal ponies who served you without question, who followed you even after you betrayed them and all of Equestria? They stayed loyal like good dogs, even as you became the monster they feared.”

Luna’s magic flared, her fury igniting fully now. She lashed out, a blast of magic aimed directly at him, meant to send him crashing back. But Bad Apple was quicker than she anticipated. He twisted his body at the last second, using the momentum of her strike to roll with the impact, driving his own

hoof into her chest plate as he was knocked into the wall.

The collision was brutal, the sound of metal against stone echoing through the room. Luna staggered back, her chest plate dented where his hoof had struck, and for a moment, she stared at him in shock. No earth pony should have had the strength to damage enchanted armor—yet here he was, standing with a cold smile on his lips, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Bad Apple spat onto the floor, his defiance blazing in his eyes. “You thought you could intimidate me? You’re just as deluded as ever, Princess.”

Celestia, who had been watching with mounting concern, quickly stepped between them, her presence a calming but firm barrier. “Luna, enough!” she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of authority.

Luna’s magic receded, but the tension in the room remained thick, almost suffocating. Bad Apple watched as Luna struggled to regain her composure, her breaths coming in shallow, controlled bursts.

Celestia turned to Bad Apple, her expression unreadable. “What is it you want?” she asked, her voice steady but edged with irritation.

Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, feigning contemplation. In truth, he already knew what he wanted. “Ten thousand bits, delivered to my account within the next 24 hours. And I want a favor from the Crown—something I can call in whenever I choose.”

Luna’s eyes burned with fury, but Celestia remained impassive. After a moment, she nodded. “Agreed. But know this, Bad Apple—there are limits to what even you can get away with.”

Bad Apple smiled, a wolfish grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m well aware, Your Highness.”

As the princesses turned to leave, Luna shot him a final, withering glare. The temperature began to rise again as her magic receded, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Once they were gone, Bad Apple let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He looked down at the letter from Applebloom, his thoughts drifting to the family he’d left behind.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Getting out of the city for a while should be nice, even if I have to spend it with those hicks.”

He began cleaning up the mess the princesses had made, his mind already working on the next step. As he sorted through the scattered papers, he picked up a quill and began drafting letters—one to Blood Diamond, instructing her to drop any thoughts of pressing charges, and another to his assistant, putting his current cases on hold.

His thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Luna, and a dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Who knew that lunar bitch still had that kind of hit. But at least I got to see Celestia’s heavenly cake. That view was worth a couple of bruises.”

As the chuckle turned into a full, echoing laugh, Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. For now, the game was in his favor, but in Equestria, the rules were always changing. And that was exactly how he liked it.

The grand doors to Canterlot Castle's hall burst open with a thunderous crack, echoing through the empty corridors. Luna stormed in, her mane a turbulent wave of stars and shadow, reflecting her barely contained fury. Her eyes glinted with the sharp intensity of the moon at its zenith, each step she took resonating with the force of her anger. The Praetorian Guards followed her, their expressions unreadable but their tension palpable.

Celestia entered moments later, her calm demeanor masking the concern she felt for her sister. She had seen this side of Luna before—rare, but unmistakable. It was a storm that could shake the foundations of even the most steadfast structures.

“Luna,” Celestia called softly, yet her voice carried the authority of centuries. But Luna continued her march, her fury propelling her down the corridor until she reached one of her private chambers. Without hesitation, she threw the doors open and stormed inside.

Celestia paused at the threshold, turning to the guards with a gentle nod. “Thank you. You may rest now.”

The guards exchanged a brief glance before bowing and retreating down the hallway, their hoofsteps fading into the distance.

Celestia stepped into the chamber and quietly closed the door behind her. The room, usually a haven of peace, now seemed to pulse with the energy of Luna’s wrath. Luna stood in the center, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain her emotions. Her eyes were still blazing, but beneath the anger, there was something else—something deeper.

“Sister,” Luna began, her voice trembling with the force of her feelings, “how could you bring those guards instead of my own? How could you stand there and let him insult us, insult me?”

Celestia approached her slowly, her own expression serious. “Luna, please listen. I chose the Praetorian Guards for a reason. Your Lunar Guards are fiercely loyal—loyal to a fault. If they had been there, they might have acted without thinking, driven by their devotion to you. Bad Apple is dangerous, and any impulsive action could have led to disaster.”

Luna’s gaze dropped to the deep dent in her chestplate, her hoof tracing the damage. “This armor is enchanted, forged to withstand the mightiest of blows. Yet he… he did this. How can a mere earth pony possess such strength? Such audacity?”

Celestia sighed, her voice softening. “It’s not just physical strength, Luna. Bad Apple’s power lies in his cunning, his ability to manipulate the law and turn it to his advantage. He’s part of the Lawyer Guild, a group that serves the law above all else—often twisting it to suit their needs. They are neither good nor evil, but they are a force to be reckoned with.”

Luna looked up, her anger momentarily giving way to confusion. “And we allow this? We let them undermine our authority?”

Celestia nodded slowly. “We do. Because as frustrating as it is, they maintain a certain balance in Canterlot. They ensure that the law is upheld, even when it opposes us. It is a delicate dance, one we must engage in if we are to keep the peace.”

“But I cannot shake this feeling,” Luna continued, her voice quieter now, “that he is more dangerous than we realize.”

Celestia hesitated, her mind flashing back to memories she had long tried to bury. She saw a figure in the darkness, his eyes like burning embers—golden, yet tainted with the poison of betrayal. Those eyes had once looked upon her with warmth, but now they seethed with hatred, with a desire to dominate and destroy everything she held dear.

“There is more to this, Luna,” Celestia admitted, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar weariness. “Bad Apple is not the true threat. He is but a pawn in a greater game. There is someone—something—behind him. A force I have sensed but cannot fully grasp.”

Luna’s eyes widened, her anger cooling as concern took its place. “Who? Who could command such power?”

Celestia looked away, her expression troubled. “I cannot say, not yet. The truth… it could endanger us both if revealed too soon. I need you to trust me, Luna. Trust that I will tell you when the time is right.”

Luna was silent for a long moment, her mind racing with possibilities. But finally, she nodded, though her expression remained grim. “I trust you, sister. But this is not easy. Short Sprint’s family has been loyal to me for centuries, even through my banishment. To see them suffer so unjustly—”

“It pains me as well,” Celestia interrupted gently, stepping closer to place a wing around Luna. “But we must be careful. Bad Apple is a master of his craft, and if we move too hastily, we could play directly into his hooves. Justice must be served, but it must be done wisely.”

Luna took a deep breath, the tension in her muscles slowly easing. “I understand, Celestia. But the injustice of it burns. I cannot forget what Blood Diamond has done.”

“And you won’t have to,” Celestia replied, her voice steady. “But we must be patient. We will watch Bad Apple closely, and when the time comes, we will act. Together.”

Luna’s resolve hardened, her anger replaced by a steely determination. “Yes. We will act, sister. And we will be ready.”

Celestia offered a soft, comforting smile as the weight of the moment began to lift. She moved toward the balcony, where the first light of dawn was beginning to break. “Come, Luna. Let us raise the sun and greet a new day.”

Luna joined her sister, the cool morning air calming the last remnants of her anger. As Celestia’s horn glowed with golden light, Luna watched the sun rise, feeling its warmth chase away the shadows that had lingered in her heart.

“We are stronger together,” Celestia said softly as the sun’s rays spread across the land. “No darkness can prevail as long as we stand united.”

Luna nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Yes, sister. Together, we will protect Equestria. And together, we will ensure that justice is served.”

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the two sisters stood side by side, ready to face whatever challenges the new day would bring. And in that moment, as the light of dawn bathed the land, Luna knew that no matter how dark the night might become, she and Celestia would always find a way to bring the dawn.

The sun had fully risen over Canterlot, casting long, warm rays across the land. The golden spires of the city gleamed in the morning light, a beacon of Equestria’s supposed purity and grandeur. But Bad Apple saw the city for what it truly was: a glittering stage where everypony played their part in an elaborate game of power, posturing, and deceit. The false compliments, the carefully crafted façades, the endless jockeying for position—he loved every moment of it. Canterlot was a place where those with ambition could rise, and where the weak were left to flounder. It was a city that rewarded those willing to play the game, and Bad Apple was one of the best.

In the bustling Canterlot train station, Bad Apple stood on the platform of the Canterlot Express, waiting for his train to Ponyville. The station was alive with the sounds of ponies going about their morning routines, but Bad Apple paid little attention to the noise around him. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the events of the past few days and contemplating his future plans.

He was dressed sharply as always, his black suit immaculate, the crimson tie a stark contrast against his dark coat. To the casual observer, he appeared calm, collected—perhaps even content. But beneath that polished exterior, his thoughts were as sharp as ever, always seeking the next opportunity, the next move in the endless game he played.

The recent encounters with Princesses Celestia and Luna had been calculated risks. He had tested their limits, pushed the boundaries of their patience, and he had emerged unscathed. Physically, at least. The bruises would fade, and the advantages he had gained far outweighed them. Emotional scars? He cared nothing for those. Emotions were merely tools to be manipulated, whether in himself or others.

As he stood there, waiting for the train, Bad Apple reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a worn scrunchie. The scrunchie had long since lost its original color, now stained with a dark blotch of blood. His expression hardened as he looked at the stain, a mixture of irritation and something deeper flickering in his eyes. The scrunchie had belonged to his mother, Pear Butter—a relic of a past he rarely allowed himself to dwell on.

But today, the memories surfaced unbidden, like ghosts from the shadows of his mind.

He saw flashes of that dark, damp cave—a place that had once been the site of an unimaginable fortune. He remembered standing in the middle of it as a young colt, the air thick with fear and tension. His parents, Pear Butter and Bright Mac, were there, their faces twisted in anguish as chains were fastened around their necks. The clinking of metal echoed in his mind, the sound of their hooves scraping against the rocky ground as they were dragged away.

Bad Apple had told them not to follow him, to stay back and let him handle it. But they hadn’t listened. In the dim light of the cave, a small bag of jewels lay forgotten on the floor, the gems glistening faintly. Those jewels had been the cause of it all—the lure that had led to betrayal and captivity. Young Bad Apple had stood frozen, his heart pounding as he watched his parents disappear into the shadows. Then, like a whisper in his ear, the jewels called out to him. They promised power, wealth—everything he had ever desired, and things he hadn’t even known he wanted. The greed within him surged, an insatiable hunger that demanded to be fed.

He remembered how, after the echoes of his parents’ struggles had faded, he had darted forward and grabbed the bag of jewels. The weight of it had felt strange in his small hooves, both exhilarating and terrifying. The jewels were cold, their sharp edges digging into his skin, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the promise they held—the power they would bring him. He had run from that cave, clutching the jewels to his chest, the memory of his parents being dragged away fueling his ambitions. Wealth, power—those were what mattered now.

The whistle of the approaching train pulled Bad Apple from his reverie. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear away the memories, and slipped the scrunchie back into his saddlebag. There was no time for nostalgia. The future awaited, and it was one he intended to shape with his own hooves, just as he had always done.

The Canterlot Express came to a halt before him, its doors sliding open with a hiss. Bad Apple adjusted his suit, his expression hardening once more into the calculating mask he wore so well. As he stepped onto the train, he glanced back at the station, at the city of Canterlot bathed in morning light.

To most, Canterlot was a shining beacon of hope, a city of light and harmony. But to Bad Apple, it was a city of masks, where power was traded in whispers and smiles, where every interaction was a move in a larger, more dangerous game. He thrived in it, loved the manipulation, the posturing, the false compliments that hid daggers behind every smile. Canterlot was a city where the strong rose to the top, and where the weak were left behind, and he had every intention of staying on top.

His thoughts turned once more to his future plans—how to leverage his recent encounters, how to manipulate the pieces on the chessboard to his advantage. The game was far from over, and he was determined to win, no matter the cost.

As the train began to move, carrying him away from the city and toward the rural outskirts where Sweet Apple Acres awaited, the memory of that cave lingered in the back of his mind. The sound of chains, the glint of jewels, the look in his parents’ eyes—these were the things that had shaped him, for better or worse.

Bad Apple stared out the window as the cityscape gave way to rolling hills and orchards. His hooves rested on the bag that held the scrunchie, his thoughts a tumultuous mix of greed, ambition, and a sadness he could never quite shake.

For now, the future was his to mold, but the past had a way of leaving its mark, no matter how much wealth or power he accumulated. And as the train sped toward its destination, Bad Apple couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever come a day when the jewels would no longer glisten quite so brightly, and when the echoes of that cave would finally fade into silence.

Reaching into his saddlebag once more, Bad Apple pulled out a small set of headphones. He placed them over his ears, the familiar strains of "Left Behind" beginning to play. The haunting melody filled his mind as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. The game was far from over, and the pieces were still moving. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of reflection—just a moment—before the train carried him into whatever lay ahead.

And as the song played, Bad Apple couldn’t help but smirk. In the end, everyone was left behind—except for those smart enough to keep moving forward.