I Don’t Fear Death

Pinkie pulled the straps of her gas mask loose and let it dangle around her neck. She took a deep breath, the air still thick with smoke but no longer filtered through the rubber confines of her mask. Her hoof reached into the mask’s compartment, and she retrieved a small, worn photograph. It was yellowed with age, its corners frayed. The picture showed her and Twilight, smiling brightly in a world that no longer existed.

She stared at it for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she folded the photograph carefully and placed it back inside her mask. With practiced efficiency, she secured her axe to her back and resumed her journey.

The city stretched out before her, a labyrinth of crumbling buildings and alleys choked with debris. She moved through the shadows, her movements silent and deliberate. Each step brought her closer to her target, a mare whose significance escaped her. It didn’t matter. A job was a job, and this one paid well.

Her route took her through a particularly desolate section of the city. As she navigated the rubble, a faint, desperate voice caught her attention.

“Please! Help me!”

Pinkie froze, her ears twitching. She turned to see a pony trapped beneath a pile of rubble, one hoof outstretched as they struggled to free themselves. For a moment, she considered ignoring the plea. Trust was a rare commodity in this world, and she couldn’t afford to waste her energy on strangers.

“P-please! Don’t leave me here!” the voice cried again, more desperate this time.

Pinkie sighed, her head throbbing with irritation. Against her better judgment, she approached the trapped pony. With a grunt of effort, she pushed the rubble aside, freeing them.

The pony staggered to their hooves, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and gratitude. “W-wait! What’s your name?”

Pinkie’s voice was hoarse as she replied, “Leave me alone. Just go. I already saved you. Don’t make me regret it.”

The pony hesitated, then turned and fled into the shadows. Pinkie shook her head and lit a cigarette using a burning piece of debris. She took a deep drag, the smoke curling around her as she continued on her way.

Her target’s location loomed ahead. The building was guarded by two burly ponies, their armor mismatched but imposing. Pinkie dropped her cigarette and pulled her gas mask back on, her voice muffled but no less menacing.

“Heya. You’re quite the talk of the town, you know?”

The guards stiffened, their eyes narrowing. From behind them, the mare Pinkie had come for stepped forward, her expression skeptical.

“Who are you? Get out of my sight, pathetic street runner,” the mare sneered.

Pinkie sighed deeply. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

The mare’s bravado faltered for a moment before she barked an order. “Get her!”

The guards moved hesitantly toward Pinkie. “You’re not who I’m here for,” she said, venom dripping from her tone. “Don’t make things difficult.”

The mare scoffed. “Come on! It’s just a city runner. Don’t be afraid of her!”

Pinkie stepped forward, her presence radiating an aura of danger. The guards froze, inching away from her as she drew closer.

“You must not know me,” Pinkie said, her voice low and steady. “Let me introduce myself. I am the desert ghost. I kill for profit. I have never failed.”

The guards exchanged nervous glances but didn’t move to stop her. The mare’s confidence crumbled as Pinkie drew her axe.

“Rule of advice,” Pinkie said coldly. “Don’t interrupt my work.”

With one swift motion, she swung her axe, severing the mare’s head. The guards screamed and fled, their courage shattered.

Pinkie turned to leave, only to see the pony she had saved earlier standing nearby. Her voice was sharp and angry. “What did I say? Get outta here!”

The pony hesitated, then ran off again. Pinkie sighed, her patience wearing thin.

“How long will that last?” she muttered, disappearing into the shadows once more.