I Don’t Fear Death

Pinkie slowly walked the streets. Wilted Rose tried to keep up, but Pinkie knew every inch of the ground. "Wow, you know these roads well..." Wilted Rose remarked, trying to make conversation. Pinkie simply nodded, her focus unwavering.

"So, an axe, huh? That’s an interesting choice. Gruesome, but interesting," Wilted continued, her voice tinged with curiosity. Again, Pinkie nodded, offering no further response.

"You… don’t talk much, do you?" Wilted Rose asked after a moment of silence. Pinkie nodded once more. Realizing she wasn’t going to get much out of her companion, Wilted decided it was best to keep quiet.

They eventually reached one of Pinkie’s personal favorite resting points: a spot atop a crumbling building, where a pile of rubble had been shaped into a crude chair. From here, they had a view of the rotting remnants of Equestria. The sky was a deep, suffocating gray, choked by the smoke belching from failing factories. Any sunlight that tried to pierce through was smothered before it could reach the ground.

Pinkie envied the pegasi, though the ones who could fly had disappeared long ago. Those who remained were either unable or unwilling to take to the skies. Salamander was one such pegasus. Rescued by Rolling Thunder a few weeks prior, he had joined the Assassin’s Guild because his small frame allowed him to slip into tight spaces. His preferred weapon was a set of claws affixed to his hooves. They were crude, not particularly efficient, but they got the job done—much to Pinkie’s quiet disapproval.

The mare sitting silently nearby, warming her hooves by a controlled fire, was Wilted Rose. She had joined the Assassin’s Guild for one simple reason: she enjoyed killing. Wilted always seemed a little unhinged, but in this world, so was everyone else. Her preferred weapon was a dual-bladed scythe, though she also used her magical lasers in combat. Pinkie thought her fighting style was flashy and impractical—not that it mattered much, so long as it worked.

Wilted Rose handed Pinkie a file. "This is all Rolling Thunder could find on Colonel Crusher," she said. Colonel Crusher, a high-ranking and popular officer within the Royal Militia, was their next target. Pinkie flipped through the sparse information without a word.

"So, can we do it, Desert Ghost?" Wilted asked, her tone both curious and teasing.

"I can. Don’t know about you," Pinkie replied curtly. Wilted scoffed but didn’t argue.

They approached their destination: a large, decrepit building that had fared better than the surrounding ruins. Its crumbling facade hinted at a once-grand structure, now reduced to a fortress for the Royal Militia. Two heavily armored guards stood outside the entrance, armed with a spear and a broadsword.

"Those guys look mean," Wilted muttered, sizing them up.

"They’re nothing," Pinkie said dismissively, her eyes cold and calculating.

Pinkie turned to Wilted. "I’ll handle the outside guards. Meet me inside. Kill anyone who sees you."

Wilted smirked. "On it, captain," she said, vanishing into the shadows to find another way inside.

Pinkie strode toward the two guards, who immediately tensed. "Leave! This is property of the Royal Militia!" they barked in unison.

Pinkie stopped a few paces away, tilting her head slightly. "I recommend you move," she said, her voice calm but laced with menace.

The guards stood their ground. Out of the corner of her eye, Pinkie spotted Wilted slipping through a cracked window. Satisfied, she turned her full attention back to the guards. "Fine. But you owe me an axe resharpening," she muttered to herself.

With a swift motion, Pinkie pulled her axe from its harness and slashed at the first guard. The blade bit deep into his chest plate, shattering the armor and lodging in his shoulder. He screamed in agony as blood seeped from the wound. The second guard lunged at Pinkie with his spear, but she sidestepped the attack and wrenched her axe free. Using the momentum, she swung it into the side of the second guard’s helmet, cracking it open like a brittle shell. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The first guard, still writhing in pain, tried to crawl away. Pinkie kicked him hard, sending him sprawling. Without a second glance, she pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.

The interior of the building was dimly lit, with flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and rot. Pinkie’s steps were slow and deliberate, the sound of her hooves echoing through the halls. Somewhere in the distance, she heard faint voices and the clinking of armor.

Wilted Rose emerged from the shadows, blood spattering her coat. "I took care of a couple of patrols," she whispered, a wild grin on her face.

"Good," Pinkie replied, her voice a low growl. "Crusher’s office should be on the top floor. Let’s move."

The two assassins ascended a crumbling staircase, their movements swift and silent. On the second floor, they encountered a group of guards playing cards around a makeshift table. Before they could react, Wilted unleashed a volley of magical lasers, striking three of them down in an instant. The remaining guard drew his sword, but Pinkie was already upon him. Her axe cleaved through his chest, silencing him before he could cry out.

"Try to keep it quiet," Pinkie hissed as they continued upward.

Wilted smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Finally, they reached the top floor. A massive oak door loomed before them, its surface scarred from years of abuse. Voices could be heard inside, one of them loud and commanding. Pinkie gestured for Wilted to flank the door while she prepared to breach.

With a powerful kick, Pinkie sent the door crashing open. Inside was Colonel Crusher, a massive earth pony clad in gleaming armor. He was flanked by two elite guards, both of whom sprang into action as the assassins entered.

Crusher smirked. "So, the Desert Ghost finally shows herself. I was wondering when you’d come for me."

Pinkie didn’t respond. She charged at the nearest guard, her axe slicing through his weapon as if it were paper. Wilted engaged the second guard, her scythe spinning in a deadly arc. The room was filled with the clash of metal and the grunts of exertion.

Crusher watched the chaos unfold, his smirk never wavering. When his guards fell, he stepped forward, cracking his neck. "You’ll find I’m not so easy to kill," he said, his voice booming.

Pinkie raised her axe, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. "We’ll see about that," she replied, her voice steady and cold.

The battle that followed was fierce and brutal. Crusher’s strength was unmatched, but Pinkie’s speed and precision kept her one step ahead. Meanwhile, Wilted provided support, her magical lasers forcing Crusher to stay on the defensive.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Pinkie found an opening. With a swift, decisive strike, her axe buried itself in Crusher’s chest. The massive pony staggered, blood pouring from the wound. He looked down at Pinkie, his smirk replaced by a look of disbelief.

"Guess you… were better than I thought," he muttered before collapsing to the ground.

Pinkie wrenched her axe free, her breathing heavy. Wilted approached, a look of triumph on her face. "Well, that was fun," she said.

Pinkie didn’t respond. She wiped the blood from her axe and turned to leave. "Let’s go," she said curtly.

As they descended the stairs, the sound of reinforcements echoed through the halls. Pinkie and Wilted exchanged a glance before breaking into a run. The thrill of the hunt was over, but the fight for survival had just begun.