Left behind-GREEN

Chapter 6: Bruised Apples

As Applejack, Bad Apple, and Apple Bloom stepped through the front door of the farmhouse, the warmth of home wrapped around them. The smell of fresh apple fritters and stew filled the air, welcoming them back after a long day.

Apple Bloom, her energy still bubbling, immediately ran ahead, her hooves clattering against the wooden floor. Big Mac barely had time to turn around before she barreled into him, wrapping her small hooves around his neck in a tight hug.

“Big Mac! You won’t believe it—I bucked a tree today! All by myself!” she squealed, bouncing in place. “Bad Apple showed me how! I got nearly all the apples down, just like he said!”

Big Mac smiled softly, returning her hug. “That so?” His gaze flicked over to Bad Apple, a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

Bad Apple gave a small nod, smirking. “She’s a fast learner. Just needed a little technique.”

Applejack stepped in behind them, giving Big Mac a nod as well. “I was there too, Big Mac. Saw the whole thing. Kid’s got a knack for it.”

Before Big Mac could ask any questions, Granny Smith’s voice cut through from the kitchen. “Dinner’s on the table, y’all! Get in here before it gets cold!”

The family began moving toward the dining room. Apple Bloom, full of excitement, bounced ahead with Big Mac and Applejack trailing behind. But just as she reached the table, Apple Bloom noticed something. She looked over her shoulder, realizing that Bad Apple hadn’t followed. Instead, he was standing near the door, his hoof on the handle, about to leave.

“Bad Apple, where’re you goin’? You leavin’ already?” Apple Bloom’s voice carried a note of disappointment.

Bad Apple paused, looking back at her with a small, apologetic smile. “Figured I’d head to the hotel. Didn’t wanna overstay.”

Apple Bloom frowned, stepping closer. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? You’re family, ain’t ya?”

For a moment, Bad Apple seemed to consider it, then his smile grew. “Well, how can I say no to you, princess?”

Apple Bloom’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Quit callin’ me that!” she huffed, though her eyes sparkled with delight.

Chuckling softly, Bad Apple let go of the door and turned to join them at the table. “Alright, alright. Guess I can stay for one meal.”

As he sat down, Big Mac and Applejack exchanged surprised glances. Neither had expected him to agree so easily, but neither said anything. Granny Smith, ever neutral, didn’t react beyond a small smile, simply passing out the plates. “Y’all get settled. Ain’t no reason to let good food go to waste.”

With that, the family settled in for dinner, the atmosphere momentarily lighter as they prepared to eat together.

The sounds of silverware and plates filled the farmhouse as the Apple family gathered around the table. The smell of Granny Smith’s famous apple fritters and stew added a comforting warmth to the room.

Apple Bloom, still buzzing from the day, couldn’t hold back her excitement. “Big Mac! Guess what? I bucked a tree today! Bad Apple showed me how, and I got almost every apple down!”

Big Mac smiled, his eyes warm with pride. “That’s great, Apple Bloom! Yer gettin’ stronger every day.”

Apple Bloom hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with a bit of embarrassment. “Well... I might’ve left a little dent in the tree…”

Big Mac chuckled, giving her a reassuring nod. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Ya did good.”

Apple Bloom’s face brightened again as she sat back in her chair. Applejack, already digging into her food, added with a playful grin, “Just make sure ya don’t go leavin’ dents in all the trees now. We’d like to keep ‘em in one piece.”

Apple Bloom giggled. “I’ll try not to!”

She went on, her excitement bubbling over. “And before we even got to the orchard, me and the Crusaders were tryin’ to earn our cutie marks in pottery today. It didn’t go too well, though. Scootaloo ended up with a pot stuck on her head!” She laughed, remembering the chaos.

Granny Smith let out a chuckle. “Sounds like one heck of a mess, sugarcube.”

Apple Bloom’s tone shifted a little as she continued. “But then, after school, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon started pickin’ on me again. Callin’ me a ‘blank flank’ like always.”

The room quieted down a bit. Applejack frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Those two still givin’ ya a hard time?”

Apple Bloom nodded, looking down at her plate. “Yeah... they won’t quit.”

Bad Apple, who had been quietly eating, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Apple Bloom. “Ya wanna know how to handle ponies like that?”

Apple Bloom looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “How?”

Bad Apple gave her a small, knowing grin. “Don’t make yourself an easy target. They keep pickin’ on ya because they think you won’t do nothin’ about it. Ya gotta find somethin’ they’re not confident about—maybe their looks, or their family—and give it right back to ‘em. They’ll think twice ‘fore messin’ with ya again.”

Applejack shot him a stern look. “That ain’t how we do things ‘round here, Bad Apple.”

Big Mac nodded in agreement, his voice low but firm. “Ya don’t gotta lower yourself to their level, Apple Bloom. Fightin’ back like that just makes things worse.”

Bad Apple shrugged, unbothered by their disapproval. “Ain’t sayin’ ya gotta start a fight. Just don’t let ‘em walk all over ya. Show ‘em they can’t get to ya, and they’ll back off. Simple.”

Apple Bloom looked unsure, glancing between her siblings. Granny Smith, who had been quiet, finally spoke up with her usual calm wisdom. “Sometimes the best thing ya can do is lift yer head up and keep walkin’. Them words don’t mean nothin’ if ya don’t let ‘em.”

She smirked, adding with a playful twinkle in her eye, “But a couple good comebacks don’t hurt now and then. Just don’t go stirrin’ up trouble if ya don’t have to.”

Apple Bloom nodded, her mind swirling with the advice from her family. She wasn’t sure what to do, but at least she knew she had options.

Apple Bloom’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

Bad Apple smirked. “Oh, your big sis didn’t tell you about the time she stuffed Rose in a locker?”

Apple Bloom gasped, looking at Applejack in disbelief. “Applejack, you did that?”

Applejack’s cheeks flushed. “We were kids, Apple Bloom. Things were different.”

Bad Apple continued, “And Big Mac? You were smaller than Berry Punch, but you didn’t think twice about knockin’ her down when she wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “Big Mac, you fought Berry Punch?”

Big Mac sighed. “Yeah, but I wasn’t proud of it. Even if she was bigger, what I did wasn’t right.”

Apple Bloom blinked, taking it all in. “How come y’all never told me any of this?”

Applejack, still uneasy, explained, “Because we learned there’s better ways to handle things.”

Big Mac nodded. “Standin’ tall means more than bein’ bigger or tougher.”

Bad Apple leaned in, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure didn’t seem to matter back then. You stood up for yourselves, and they didn’t mess with you again, did they?”

Applejack shot him a look. “That doesn’t mean we handled it right.”

Apple Bloom giggled. “I can’t believe y’all used to fight like that!”

Granny Smith finally chimed in. “A good comeback here and there works, but it’s better to keep your head high and let the trouble slide off ya.”

Bad Apple’s grin grew sharper. “Seems like you two were just fine with standin’ up for yourselves when it suited you.”

Big Mac’s jaw tightened as he met Bad Apple’s gaze. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?”

Bad Apple leaned forward, his smirk still in place. “Just wonderin’ why you’ve got such a problem with the advice I’m givin’ Apple Bloom. It worked for you, didn’t it?”

Big Mac’s eyes darkened. “What worked for me ain’t what’s best for her.”

Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, his grin not fading. “Really? You sure it’s not just ‘cause you don’t want her to know how things really were?”

Big Mac’s voice dropped, steady but firm. “No. It’s ‘cause she deserves better than that.”

Bad Apple’s smirk faltered just slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Better, huh? Funny how that works now.”

As the family ate, Bad Apple leaned back, his grin teasing as he glanced between Applejack and Big Mac. “Funny how y’all turned into pacifists. I remember when you didn’t mind standin’ up to bullies.”

Apple Bloom’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

Bad Apple smirked. “Oh, your big sis didn’t tell you about the time she stuffed Rose in a locker?”

Apple Bloom gasped, looking at Applejack in disbelief. “Applejack, you did that?”

Applejack’s cheeks flushed. “We were kids, Apple Bloom. Things were different.”

Bad Apple continued, “And Big Mac? You were smaller than Berry Punch, but you didn’t think twice about knockin’ her down when she wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “Big Mac, you fought Berry Punch?”

Big Mac sighed. “Yeah, but I wasn’t proud of it. Even if she was bigger, what I did wasn’t right.”

Apple Bloom blinked, taking it all in. “How come y’all never told me any of this?”

Applejack, still uneasy, explained, “Because we learned there’s better ways to handle things.”

Big Mac nodded. “Standin’ tall means more than bein’ bigger or tougher.”

Bad Apple leaned in, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure didn’t seem to matter back then. You stood up for yourselves, and they didn’t mess with you again, did they?”

Applejack shot him a look. “That doesn’t mean we handled it right.”

Apple Bloom giggled. “I can’t believe y’all used to fight like that!”

Granny Smith finally chimed in. “A good comeback here and there works, but it’s better to keep your head high and let the trouble slide off ya.”

Bad Apple’s grin grew sharper. “Seems like you two were just fine with standin’ up for yourselves when it suited you.”

Big Mac’s jaw tightened as he met Bad Apple’s gaze. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?”

Bad Apple leaned forward, his smirk still in place. “Just wonderin’ why you’ve got such a problem with the advice I’m givin’ Apple Bloom. It worked for you, didn’t it?”

Big Mac’s eyes darkened. “What worked for me ain’t what’s best for her.”

Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, his grin not fading. “Really? You sure it’s not just ‘cause you don’t want her to know how things really were?”

Big Mac’s voice dropped, steady but firm. “No. It’s ‘cause she deserves better than that.”

Bad Apple’s smirk faltered just slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Better, huh? Funny how that works now.”

The tension around the table thickened as Big Mac stared across at Bad Apple, his voice low and firm. “What you’re tellin’ Apple Bloom… it ain’t right. Teachin’ her to hit back like that—”

Bad Apple leaned in, unfazed. “What’s wrong with it? Worked fine for you when you were her age.”

Big Mac shook his head, his tone growing sharper. “That don’t mean it was right. Fightin’ back like that, hurtin’ other ponies—that’s not the kind of pony she needs to be.”

Bad Apple scoffed. “You think she’s better off lettin’ ponies walk all over her? ‘Cause that’s what’ll happen if she don’t stand up for herself.”

Apple Bloom, confused by the shift in tone, looked between her brothers, her brow furrowing. “What are y’all talkin’ about?”

Applejack, feeling the unease growing, cut in. “It’s not somethin’ for young fillies, Apple Bloom.”

Bad Apple smirked, glancing over at Applejack. “Oh, come on. We can talk about things that happen in the world without gettin’ into the messy details, can’t we? Not everythin’ has to be sugarcoated.”

Granny Smith, who had been quietly observing, seemed to let the conversation slide with a nod. The atmosphere remained tense, but it was clear she wasn’t going to step in just yet.

Big Mac’s jaw tightened, and then he finally said it. “Like that case in Canterlot, huh? Defendin’ that pony after what she did? You call that standin’ tall?”

Apple Bloom blinked, looking up at her brother. “What case?”

Bad Apple’s smile faded into something more calculated. “The case he’s talkin’ about was when I defended a pony who tragically took the life of a young filly in an accident. Something that couldn’t have been prevented.”

Applejack’s face twisted into a frown, her voice thick with tension. “Didn’t seem much like an accident to me.”

Big Mac nodded in agreement. “Ponies don’t just ‘accidentally’ do somethin’ like that.”

Bad Apple’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained steady as he defended his position. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see the evidence. It was a terrible accident, but accidents happen, and the pony wasn’t at fault. That’s why I defended her. That’s why I won.”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed, but not because of what he said—she could feel that Bad Apple wasn’t being entirely truthful. He wasn’t exactly lying, but there was more to what he wasn’t saying, and that only made her more uneasy. “You’re twistin’ things around. You know there’s more to it than that.”

Bad Apple met her gaze, calm but unyielding. “I gave the truth as it was. The law’s meant to give everypony a chance, no matter what. That’s how it works. You think just because somethin’ terrible happened, that pony didn’t deserve to be defended?”

Big Mac’s voice was heavier now, filled with frustration. “She should’ve been punished for what she did. What you did was wrong.”

Bad Apple’s expression hardened. “Everypony deserves a defense. Even the guilty. What kind of kingdom would we have if we just threw ponies away without givin’ them a chance to defend themselves? Or would you rather we start turnin’ everypony to stone just because they cause a little inconvenience?”

Applejack’s face flushed red with anger at the comment, her voice rising. “So that’s what this is about? You think we’re just runnin’ around ‘blessin’ ponies with rainbow lasers like it’s nothin’? That’s what you’re diggin’ at?”

Bad Apple shrugged, his tone sharp but casual. “I’m just sayin’. Y’all don’t seem too fond of second chances when it don’t suit ya.”

Applejack’s hooves clenched against the table, her eyes narrowing. “We don’t turn ponies to stone for ‘inconveniences.’ We’ve done it when there was no other choice. And don’t act like what you did was just about doin’ what’s right. You love stirrin’ up trouble.”

Bad Apple’s grin returned, though colder than before. “Trouble’s only there when ponies don’t like the truth. Ain’t my fault if it stirs the pot.”

The room was tense, and Apple Bloom, still unsure of what was happening, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t get it… why would defendin’ somepony be bad?”

Granny Smith, watching carefully, finally stepped in. “It’s a complicated thing, Apple Bloom. Sometimes, even when the law’s followed, it don’t sit right with everypony. But Bad Apple’s right ‘bout one thing—everypony deserves their say.”

Big Mac shook his head, the frustration still plain in his eyes. “Deserves their say… sure. But defendin’ somepony who’s hurt others? That’s where I draw the line.”

Bad Apple crossed his forelegs, unbothered by the weight of the accusations. “And that’s where you’re wrong, Big Mac. If we start pickin’ and choosin’ who gets a defense based on how we feel, then we ain’t no better than tyrants.”

The tension from the earlier conversation hung in the air, but Apple Bloom, ever curious, spoke up. “Why would ya defend a bad pony, Bad Apple? Ain’t that wrong?”

Bad Apple chuckled lightly. “Well, for starters? It pays real good.”

At that, Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith all shot him frowns across the table. Their disapproval was clear.

Seeing their reactions, Bad Apple smirked, but his tone shifted, becoming more serious. “But here’s the real reason, Apple Bloom. Everypony deserves a chance to defend themselves. Doesn’t matter if they’re right or wrong. If we didn’t give everypony that chance, then there wouldn’t be any real justice. Ponies would start actin’ outside the law, thinkin’ it’s the only way they’ll get a fair shot. Sure, maybe some bad ponies slip through the cracks, but it keeps the rest in line, knowin’ they’ll get a fair chance—and might still get punished.”

Apple Bloom tilted her head, trying to understand. “So, it’s not about helpin’ the bad ponies, then?”

Bad Apple shook his head. “Not exactly. When I look at ponies who commit crimes, I see three types: the misguided, the vicious, and the necessary. The misguided? They can be turned around. The vicious? Well, they’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em eventually. And the necessary ones? They’re the ones who do bad because they think there ain’t any other way.”

Applejack and Big Mac stayed silent, but the frowns on their faces deepened as they processed his explanation.

Just then, Granny Smith let out a yawn and looked over at Apple Bloom. “Well, it’s about that time, sugarcube. You’ve got school in the mornin’, and you’ll need your rest.”

Apple Bloom’s face fell slightly, her excitement from the earlier conversations fading. “Aww… but I wanna hear more.”

Bad Apple chuckled, ruffling her mane. “There’ll be time for more stories, princess. Go on, now.”

Apple Bloom, smiling up at him, hopped out of her seat and hugged him tightly before giving Big Mac, Applejack, and Granny Smith quick hugs as well. As she headed upstairs, Applejack called after her, “And don’t forget to wash up tonight, or I’ll be wakin’ you up early to do it in the mornin’!”

Apple Bloom groaned but nodded before disappearing down the hall. The room fell quiet again, the only sound being the clink of dishes as Big Mac picked up his plate and took it to the sink.

Without a word, Big Mac headed toward the door, stepping outside. Applejack, after a glance at Bad Apple, quickly followed him, leaving Granny Smith and Bad Apple alone at the table.

Granny Smith eyed Bad Apple for a moment, her gaze soft but knowing. “You don’t have to antagonize ‘em, ya know.”

Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, giving her a wry grin. “They make it too easy.”

Granny Smith chuckled, shaking her head. “Still. You should apologize.”

Bad Apple’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “They’re too sensitive. I question their worldview a little, and they’re ready to tear me apart. I’m pretty sure they were holdin’ back because Apple Bloom was sittin’ there.”

Granny Smith gave him a sharp look. “I raised ‘em right. They can think for themselves, just like you. It’s up to them how they live.”

Bad Apple raised his hooves in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, you’re right. We all make our own choices. Guess I’ll play peacemaker tonight. Let me guess—they’re in the same spot as usual?”

Granny Smith smirked knowingly as she stood up from the table. “Of course. Some things don’t change.”

With that, she headed upstairs, leaving Bad Apple to his thoughts. He sat there for a moment, finishing the last of his cider before standing up and making his way outside.

The cool night air greeted him as he made his way past the orchards, the familiar path leading him toward the old fourth farmstead, nestled between the third orchard and the fourth, close to the Everfree Forest. It didn’t take long for him to spot them in the distance—the faint flicker of lantern light and the sound of clinking bottles.

As he drew closer, he could see Big Mac and Applejack already drinking from bottles of hard cider, the tension from earlier still clinging to them as they sat together.

Bad Apple smirked to himself. “Well, look who got started without me.”

Bad Apple strolled through the orchard, the lantern light from the old fourth farmstead guiding him to where Big Mac and Applejack sat, bottles of hard cider between them. He grinned as he approached, ready to stir things up.

“Well, well,” Bad Apple called out, settling himself beside them, “looks like I found where the party’s at.”

Big Mac grunted, setting his bottle down with a little more force than necessary. “You weren’t invited.”

Bad Apple feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch, Big Mac. Family don’t need an invite.” With a smirk, he grabbed a bottle from their stash and twisted the cap off.

Applejack, rolling her eyes but smiling slightly, chimed in. “Just let him drink, Big Mac. He ain’t goin’ anywhere, and we ain’t got the patience to deal with him and the cider.”

Grinning, Bad Apple leaned back, taking a long gulp of cider. As the familiar taste filled his mouth, he couldn’t help but comment. “Still ain’t got enough kick, though. You ever think about uppin’ the alcohol in this stuff?”

Applejack frowned. “You know why we can’t. Equestrian Agricultural Regulations don’t allow us to raise it higher. If we did, we’d be violatin’ the law, and those regulators would come down on us faster than a zap apple harvest.”

Big Mac nodded, setting his bottle down. “We’ve got rules to follow. We can’t mess with the process just to make it stronger.”

Bad Apple scoffed. “You’re sittin’ on a product that could be even better. If you upped the alcohol content, you’d have more ponies comin’ back for it. Ponies love a good hard cider, but this? It’s barely got a bite.”

Applejack shot him a look. “This ain’t about makin’ it stronger for the sake of it. Ponies love it because it’s the best cider in Equestria. We make it the way Great-Great Granny Applebark taught us. Stickin’ to tradition is what keeps us goin’.”

Big Mac chimed in. “And besides, we ain’t even usin’ the original recipe anymore. Back in the day, they made it in bathtubs during the prohibition, and if we did that now, we’d have ponies goin’ blind.”

Applejack snorted. “Yeah, you try brewin’ it like we used to, and the Equestrian Agricultural Regulations—or EAR, as you love to call ‘em—would finally have somethin’ to complain about. That’s why we keep the cider regulated.”

Bad Apple chuckled, clearly enjoying the pushback but not backing down. “Maybe here in Equestria, but what about outside? Dragon Lands or Griffonstone? They’re not so picky about alcohol content. You’re sittin’ on a market that’s waitin’ for a good, strong cider.”

Applejack blinked, caught off guard by the idea. “Griffonstone? Dragon Lands? We’ve never sold that far.”

Big Mac frowned, his voice steady but uncertain. “That’s a lot of territory. Not to mention, we’ve got the deal with Filthy Rich’s family to consider.”

Bad Apple’s grin faded slightly as he leaned back, crossing his hooves. “Ah, yes. The deal with the Rich family. Always keepin’ you from expandin’, aren’t they?”

Applejack smirked, pointing her hoof at Bad Apple. “You said it before, and I’ll say it again: don’t push your luck, Bad Apple.”

Bad Apple’s grin widened as Applejack defended Filthy Rich a little too quickly.

“Filthy’s respectable, huh?” he said, his voice teasing. “Applejack, do you still have a crush on him or somethin’? Didn’t know you were into married stallions.”

Applejack’s cheeks flushed red, her voice rising as she snapped back. “I ain’t, and I never was!”

Bad Apple chuckled, leaning forward. “Come on, sis. You were always hangin’ around us just to be near him. You followed him so much, everypony thought you were one of the colts. It was obvious to everypony.”

Applejack scowled, her face burning with embarrassment. “That was a long time ago! And anyway, it’s his wife that’s the real piece of work. You know I wouldn’t ruin a marriage, not even if it’s with her.”

Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Ah, now we’re talkin’ about her. Didn’t realize that’s what was keepin’ you from Filthy.”

“Shut up, Bad Apple!” Applejack shot back, the venom in her voice barely contained.

Big Mac, not the least bit surprised by the exchange, simply smirked, taking another sip of cider and staying out of the line of fire.

Bad Apple leaned back, his grin spreading wide as he watched her squirm. “All I’m sayin’ is, everypony knew about your little crush back then.”

Applejack huffed, grabbing her bottle and taking a long drink, trying to wash away the embarrassment that was clear as day on her flushed face.

The laughter from Bad Apple hung in the cool night air, but the tension was thickening. Applejack, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, was standing firm, but her patience was wearing thin. Bad Apple’s teasing had gone on long enough.

“Y’know, Applejack,” Bad Apple continued, his voice dripping with mockery, “I don’t know why you’re gettin’ so riled up. Maybe you’ve got somethin’ to hide after all.”

Applejack’s hoof stomped hard into the dirt, her eyes blazing. “I said shut up, Bad Apple!” Her voice echoed through the trees, sharp and fierce.

Big Mac, who had been sitting on a nearby log, shifted his weight, his usually calm expression now clouded with frustration. He turned his gaze toward Bad Apple, his jaw set. “You’re pushin’ it, Bad Apple. You always gotta stir things up.”

Bad Apple chuckled, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, Big Mac. Don’t act like you don’t remember. She used to get all worked up over Filthy Rich. Ain’t no harm in a little reminiscin’.”

Applejack stepped forward, her muscles tight with barely restrained anger. “This ain’t the ‘old days,’ Bad Apple, and if you don’t keep that mouth shut, you’re gonna regret it.”

Big Mac stood up beside her, his large frame towering in the dim light of the lantern. His voice, usually calm, had an edge to it now. “You’re crossin’ a line.”

Bad Apple didn’t flinch, his grin turning sharp, his tone mocking. “Oh, I didn’t realize y’all were so sensitive these days. What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth?”

Applejack’s nostrils flared as she took another step toward him, her hooves digging into the dirt. “I’m warnin’ you.”

Bad Apple straightened, his smirk never leaving his face as he locked eyes with her. “Or what?”

The tension between the three of them crackled like a live wire. Big Mac’s hooves dug into the ground, his muscles tight as he stood next to Applejack, ready for whatever might happen next. The cool night air felt heavier now, the orchard around them quiet, as if waiting for the storm to break.

Hooves slammed into flesh. Grunts of pain, the dull thud of hits landing, and the sound of bodies crashing into the dirt filled the night air. The fight had devolved into an all-out brawl, fists swinging with no restraint.

There was no more holding back—no calculated moves or careful dodges. Applejack, Big Mac, and Bad Apple were tangled in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and headbutts. Every hit landed with the weight of years of frustration, anger, and sibling rivalry.

They grappled, crashed into trees, and tumbled to the ground only to get back up and swing again. The moon hung high overhead, watching silently as the hours dragged on and none of them were willing to give in.

Time blurred. There were no words, just the sound of hooves connecting with flesh, the occasional grunt of pain, and the shuffling of dirt and grass beneath their hooves. Exhaustion set in, but neither side was willing to back down. Sweat poured from them, mixing with dirt and blood as they traded blow after blow.

At some point, the fighting slowed. Breaths came in heavy gasps, limbs aching with fatigue. All three of them were bruised, battered, and barely standing. Applejack landed a final weak punch against Bad Apple’s chest, and he stumbled back, but not with the same strength he’d had hours ago.

Finally, they collapsed.

Applejack lay on the ground, her chest heaving, one eye swollen into a nasty black bruise. Big Mac sat nearby, wiping blood from his busted lip with the back of his hoof, his broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. And Bad Apple—his suit now ripped in multiple places, his once-pristine coat smeared with dirt and his body covered in bruises—leaned back against a tree, wincing as he breathed in.

For a moment, there was silence. The only sound was their labored breathing, each of them too sore and too exhausted to move.

Then, out of nowhere, Applejack let out a weak chuckle. Big Mac followed, a low laugh rumbling in his chest despite the blood on his lip. Within seconds, all three of them were laughing—really laughing, like they used to when they were kids. The kind of laughter that came after they’d beaten each other senseless over something silly.

Bad Apple wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, his grin wide. “Y’all feel better now that you got to beat on your big brother?”

Without hesitation, both Applejack and Big Mac answered in unison. “Yes.”

“Absolutely,” Applejack added, her voice breathless but full of satisfaction. “Your mouth’s always gotten you into trouble.”

Big Mac nodded, a grin spreading despite the pain. “Yup. Never knew when to shut up.”

Bad Apple laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, wasn’t the only reason I got into trouble.”

The laughter died down, and for a moment, they just sat there in the quiet of the orchard, breathing heavily and staring up at the night sky. The fight had drained them, but there was a sense of release in the air—like some old wound had finally been given the chance to heal, even if it left bruises behind.

Bad Apple groaned, wincing as he shifted against the tree. “Granny Smith’s gonna kill us all when she sees our faces. Ain’t no way we’re getting back into the house without her noticing.”

Applejack laughed again, though it was softer this time. “Yeah… she’ll tan our hides for sure. Ain’t no hidin’ these bruises.”

They shared another brief moment of laughter, their battered bodies aching with every breath, but the tension between them had finally started to ease.

Then, just as the laughter began to die down, Applejack straightened up, the humor fading from her face as her eyes turned serious. She glanced over at Bad Apple, her swollen eye narrowing as she caught her breath.

“Bad Apple,” she said, her voice quieter now, but firm, “what really happened? In the cave, I mean. Not what we were told, not what the lawyers said… what really happened? How did Mom and Dad die?”

The question cut through the quiet night like a knife. The orchard went dead silent.

Big Mac’s grin faded immediately, his eyes shifting from Applejack to Bad Apple. The lightness of their laughter vanished, replaced by the weight of something that had hung over them all for years.

Bad Apple’s smirk dropped, his expression hardening as he stared at the ground, the bruises on his body now seeming a lot heavier. For a long moment, none of them said a word.

The truth, the one they hadn’t heard, was waiting to be spoken.

Bad Apple sat there, bruised and beaten, but still managing to wear that same cocky smirk. Only now, something shifted behind his eyes. He looked at Applejack and Big Mac, and for the first time, they couldn’t recognize the look on his face. It wasn’t defiance or arrogance—it was something much deeper, something they weren’t sure they wanted to see.

Without a word, Bad Apple reached into his pocket, his hoof coming out with a crushed pack of cigarettes. He glanced down at it, then sighed, shaking his head. The pack was crumpled, but not entirely ruined. He pulled one out, stuck it between his lips, and flicked his lighter. The soft click-click of the flame ignited the tip, and he took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of multicolored smoke that lingered in the air.

The silence stretched on before Bad Apple finally spoke, his voice quiet, almost tired. “Why do you really wanna know?” He took another drag, the smoke curling out around him. “It ain’t gonna make anything better, bein’ honest. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure it’ll make things worse. Y’all spent years not knowin’ the truth. What good’s it gonna do now?”

Applejack’s face hardened, her voice firm but heavy with the weight of her words. “Because you owe us that. And I can’t forgive you without knowin’ what happened. Even if you did somethin’ wrong, I’d rather hate you for what you did than spend the rest of my life wonderin’ if it was you, or Mom, or Dad that messed up.” Her voice cracked a little, but she pushed through. “I haven’t slept right in years, Bad Apple. Not knowin’... it’s eatin’ me alive.”

The words hung in the air, and Big Mac, always the quieter one, nodded. His jaw was tight, his eyes full of that same unspoken need to know the truth.

Bad Apple took another long drag from his cigarette, the multicolored smoke swirling around him, then let out a slow sigh. When he finally spoke again, his usual cocky drawl was gone, replaced by the thick, raw sound of his true country accent. The accent he hadn’t used in years. “Alright, AJ. Alright, Mac. I’ll tell ya what happened. No lies. No trickery.”

He took one last deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke leaving his lungs in a slow, deliberate stream. “You know I was fightin’ in the diamond dog pits for cash.”

His hoof went to his jacket, and with slow, deliberate movements, Bad Apple began unbuttoning it. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he slid out of the suit he wore like armor. The leather, once pristine, now hung loose, battered from years of use and abuse. As the jacket fell to the ground, both Applejack and Big Mac could finally see what had been hidden beneath it.

Scars.

The glamour that had been woven into the jacket faded away, and what lay beneath was a patchwork of old wounds, crisscrossing his body like a roadmap of pain. Deep gashes lined his torso and legs, faded but unmistakable. His once-shiny black coat was marred with rough, jagged lines—evidence of countless battles fought and survived. The scars ran down the length of his body, wrapping around his ribs, his sides, and even across his flank.

The most shocking scar was the one that cut through his cutie mark, a deep gash slashed across the black apple that marked his destiny.

Applejack and Big Mac stared in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of him. This was the first time they had ever seen him like this, stripped down, vulnerable in a way they had never imagined.

Bad Apple took another drag from his cigarette, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “Before you ask… yeah. I knew about the smugglin’. Knew about all of it. I just didn’t care, ‘cause I was too busy makin’ bits.”

He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette, staring up at the stars for a moment before exhaling slowly. “Y’all ready for this?”

The orchard was dead quiet. No wind, no rustling leaves—just the heavy silence that comes before something that can’t be undone. Applejack and Big Mac said nothing, but their eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Bad Apple nodded, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips as he blew out another slow stream of smoke. “Alright then.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree, and when he opened them again, he wasn’t in the orchard anymore. He was back in the past—back in the dark, smoky pits where blood was spilled for sport and bits.

The memory flooded back in like a wave, pulling him under.

Bad Apple stood over a griffon, his chest heaving, his hooves slick with blood. His breath was ragged, sharp gasps that echoed in his ears, mixing with the roaring cheers of the crowd. The diamond dogs howled, their voices rough and full of greed as they threw their paws into the air, bits exchanging claws in the stands.

He looked down at the griffon beneath him, beaten and bloodied, barely conscious. His hooves hurt—aching from the repeated blows he had thrown—but he didn’t feel anything. Not anymore. This was just how it went.

The crowd screamed for more.

Another fight, another round of blood spilled for coin. The smell of sweat and iron filled the air, thick and suffocating, as Bad Apple stood victorious in the center of the pit. He felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making his heart pound like thunder in his chest.

And yet, something about this fight felt different.