Chapters Cute Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay!
“This stinks,” Scootaloo said flatly.
“Ah’ll say,” Applebloom said miserably. “Applejack won’t even talk to me.”
“Rarity found out too. I knew we shouldn’t have printed that diary,” Sweetie Belle chimed in.
It was a sunny day and the school playground was filled with young fillies and colts as usual, but all of them were giving the tables where the trio sat a wide berth as the three sat there in sullen silence, trying to figure out what to do next.
“Do you think we should just give up?” Sweetie Belle asked. “It’s not worth it anymore.”
“We can’t give up now!” Applebloom said. “You heard Diamond Tiara in there. If we don’t come up with a column by this afternoon, she’ll turn us into the laughing stock of the town!”
“But there’s nothing to write about!” Scootaloo said, frustration evident in her voice. “Nopony will talk to us! Nopony wants to even come near us!”
“Well we have to think of something!” Sweetie Belle said. “It’s not like a story is going to just drop out of the sky—“
With that, something heavy came slamming down onto the center of the wooden table with enough force to send the three young fillies toppling backwards to the turf below.
“What in Equestria?!” Applebloom exclaimed as she pulled herself back up. She saw a brown parcel sitting on the still shuddering table, one end knocked open by the impact. Loose sheets of paper came flying out of it. As Applebloom peered at them curiously the sound of a pair of wings flapping became audible from above.
“Watch out down there!”
“Oh, hi Derpy,” Sweetie Belle said, still sprawled out on the grass.
“Drop something?” Scootaloo said sarcastically.
“Yeah! Do you see where it fell?” the mailmare asked obliviously.
“It’s right here!” Applebloom said helpfully, picking the parcel up in her mouth and holding it up towards the descending pegasus.
“Thanks Applebloom!” Derpy Hooves said cheerfully as she took her charge back. Stuffing it into her mailbag, the cross-eyed pegasus gave a salute and flew away. The three fillies brushed themselves off and reclaimed their seats.
“Well, that came out of nowhere,” Scootaloo said. “Hey, whatcha got there Applebloom?”
Applebloom lifted her forelegs to reveal the sheets of paper trapped underneath. She looked at them, slightly surprised.
“I just thought, maybe there’s something here we can use.”
“But isn’t that like stealing?” Sweetie Belle said.
“It’s for a good cause!” Applebloom replied defensively.
“What cause?” Sweetie Belle shot back.
“Us not being the laughingstock of the town!” Scootaloo interjected. “What’s it say?”
“Dear editor,” Applebloom read slowly. “Enclosed is the first draft of my latest novel. Hope to have revised copy ready within a month. FS.”
Applebloom flicked the note over to reveal a title page underneath. “Paragons of the Windswept Heights: Erotic Tales of Griffin Lust,” she read slowly. “By Rose Papillonne.”
“Hey, I know that name!” Sweetie Belle shouted. “My sister has all of her books!”
“And she lives here in Ponyville? Scootaloo said. “How come I’ve never heard of her?”
The three fillies looked at each other, then up at the retreating Derpy, gears turning in their young minds as they all came to the same conclusion. Pay dirt.
===
“You’re SURE this is the right return address?” Scootaloo said.
“It said so right on the package!” Applebloom insisted.
“But you only got a quick look at it!” Scootaloo argued.
“Ah know what I saw!” the other filly insisted.
“But why would Fluttershy be mailing out romance novels?” Sweetie Belle interjected. “That would mean that she’s…woah.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Scootaloo said. “We’d better—get down, she’s coming!”
The door to the cottage swung open as the three young fillies dove for cover in the surrounding bush. Fluttershy came prancing out the door, looking happy. She called back before closing the door.
“I’ll be back in just a few hours Angel. If any of the other animals come by you know where the food is.”
Angel gave a quick bunny salute before slamming the door shut. With that taken care of Fluttershy skipped down the path towards down, humming a bit as she went. Once she was out of sight the trio emerged from the bushes.
“So what do we do now?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“We need hard proof before we say anything,” Scootaloo said. “This could be big news!”
“But how do we get it?” the pink-maned filly replied.
“There’s only one way,” Applebloom said. “We’re going to have to go in and find out for ourselves. “
“We can’t do that!” Scootaloo said. “The bunny will see us and kick us out!”
“You leave that to me, “Applebloom replied. “Ah’ve got a plan.”
A few minutes later Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were exchanging nervous looks as they stood in front of the door to Fluttershy’s cottage. Shrugging, Scootaloo leaned forward and knocked on the door. A moment later it flew open, revealing an annoyed looking white rabbit, whose expression quickly deepened to a scowl as he recognized Fluttershy’s one-time houseguests.
“Oh, hey there Angel,” Scootaloo said nervously. “We were just passing by, minding our own business, when we noticed that there was a big hole in the chicken coop. And, we, uhm.”
“Thought we should tell somepony!” Sweetie Belle chimed in.
“Yeah!” Scootaloo said, nodding in agreement. “Because it seemed like the right thing to do!”
“But don’t worry,” Sweetie Belle said. “We definitely didn’t come here from the Everfree Forest.”
“So there aren’t any carna—carno…” Scootaloo stammered.
“Carnivorous,” Sweetie Belle whispered.
“Carnivorous monsters in the area,” Scootaloo finished.
“So don’t worry. It doesn’t matter if the chickens get out,” Sweetie Belle said reassuringly.
“Not at all!” Scootaloo agreed, a nervous grin plastered on her face.
Angel’s eyes had been widening slowly throughout the exchange. He slapped a paw across his forehead, then began to scamper towards the chicken coop. Before he’d gone more than half a dozen feet he stopped, then turned back towards the door and glared at the two fillies, gesturing for them to come with him. Still grinning nervously, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle followed.
About half a minute later Applebloom appeared from around the side of the cottage and darted in through the still open door. Her eyes swept back and forth. The various birds and mice that normally kept Fluttershy company seemed to be either gone or asleep at the moment. Good. Now, where to start?
Upstairs. “Miss Cheerilee said a pegasus’s instinct is always to keep important things up as high as possible,” Applebloom thought to herself. “Besides,” she remembered, “that’s where Fluttershy’s bedroom is.”
Moving quickly up the stairs Applebloom made her way to Fluttershy’s bedroom. The door was unlocked. Inside Applebloom found a large bed stacked with plush-looking pillows and a writing desk beside the room’s closed window. A vanity mirror hung on the wall above it.
Applebloom walked to the desk and began searching the drawers. One of them refused to open. Locked.
“Now what?” Applebloom asked herself. Then an idea struck her. Walking over to the bed, she hopped up onto it and began moving the pillows. A small key was under the center one.
“Gotcha,” Applebloom thought. Taking the key, she made her way back the desk and inserted it into the lock on the drawer. It clicked as she turned it. Pulling the drawer open, she peered inside and saw a large notebook. She pulled it out, flicked it open and began to read a random page.
“Prismatic Rain cried out in rising ecstasy as the griffon’s claws danced across her nether regions. Glinda leaned in closer, beak inches away from the bound Pegasus, her breath blowing hot and fast across the athletic mare’s face.”
“Foolish little filly!” the arrogant griffon cried. “You thought you could escape me, but now you’re as helpless as a cub.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Prismatic Rain said through gritted teeth, trying in vain to hide her arousal.
“I’m going to teach you,” Glinda purred. “I’m going to teach you how to submit. I’m going to teach you discipline and obedience, and to dread the consequences of defying me. But first,” Glinda grabbed Rain’s multi-colored tail, “I’m going to find the pot of gold at the end of your rainbow.” Drawing her claws lazily upwards Glinda stroked the silky threads, then suddenly, viciously plunged her claws into the pegasus’s—”
Applebloom jerked her head back, cheeks burning. “This is it!” she whispered. “Proof!”
The sound of the front door slamming shut below dragged Applebloom out of her reverie. Angel was back. Applebloom’s eyes darted around the room, settling on the window. Taking the notebook in her mouth, she closed and relocked the drawer, quickly replacing the key under the pillow. The room returned to more or less the way she found it Applebloom opened the window and clambered up to the sill. A long drop loomed in front of her.
“It’s no worse than some of the falls you’ve taken crusadin’,” Applebloom told herself. Screwing up her courage, she jumped.
A few minutes later a slightly bruised Applebloom rejoined her companions in front of the cottage. Their eyes widened as they saw the notebook in her mouth. She laid it down on the ground for her friends to read.
“Eww!” Scootaloo said after reading a couple paragraphs.
“Well I guess that’s our proof,” Sweetie Belle said. “Let’s go write it up! I can see the headline now. ‘Pink-Maned Local Pony Purveyor of Passionately Penned Pegasus Porn.”
“Hold on a second,” Applebloom said. “Are you sure we should be doing this? Fluttershy is really sensitive sometimes.”
“Don’t worry Applebloom,” Scootaloo said. “You saw how happy she was today. She wasn’t crying about the tail extensions thing or nothing! I’m sure she’ll get over it.”
“And ponies will eat this gossip up!” Sweetie Belle said “Rose Papillonne is a really famous writer! And she’s been living right here in Ponyville this whole time! Rarity will probably be so excited she’ll forget about everything else we’ve done. So will everypony!”
Scootaloo nodded in agreement.
“Yeah Applebloom. What could possibly go wrong?”
===
“Now I know many of us are still hurt and confused by Fluttershy’s decision to kill herself,” Twilight Sparkle said as she continued her eulogy. “And some of us are probably asking ourselves what they could have done differently to stop it from happening. Some of us are probably even blaming themselves for it.”
The three fillies were well away from the front row, but they still felt everypony’s eyes on them as the unicorn spoke. They shrank into their seats a bit more as she continued.
“But we can’t let that color our memories of Fluttershy. I for one am always going to remember Fluttershy as the sweetest, kindest mare I’ve ever met. I’m going to remember her walking up to an angry manticore and pulling the thorn out of its paw. I’m going to remember her as the mare who stared down a dragon rather than stand by and let it harm me. I’m going to remember her as—”
Twilight’s voice caught in her throat. With visible effort she regained control of herself.
“I’m going to remember her as my friend.”
With that, she turned and began to levitate the coffin behind her into the freshly dug hole nearby. A sad melody played as the band started their work, saying farewell to the kindest pony Equestria had ever known.
When it was all over ponies began to file out of the cemetery. Rarity, sobbing uncontrollably. Applejack, leaning on her to provide support while barely holding in her own tears. Rainbow Dash, looking angry and glaring daggers at the Cutie Mark Crusaders the entire time. Pinkie Pie, her mane long and straight.
Nopony spoke to them. Nopony came near them. Afterwards the three fillies wandered out of the graveyard, not sure where to go. Wherever they went they encountered hard stares, cold silence and swiftly closed doors. Finally they made their way to the schoolyard where it all began. They sat at their usual table and stared at it.
“So,” Scootaloo said.
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle said quietly.
“What’re we going to do, girls?!” Applebloom shouted suddenly. “This is all our fault! I told you we shouldn’t have published that story!”
“Do you think we don’t know that?” Scootaloo said bitterly. “Rainbow Dash made darned sure I did, believe me.”
“Rarity can’t even look at me,” Sweetie Belle said morosely, seeming on the verge of tears herself.
As the three talked a voice cut in. “Hey girls.”
They turned to see Diamond Tiara standing behind them, looking hesitant and unsure.
“Listen,” the pink unicorn filly began, “it’s not that this is my fault. It’s not, do you hear me?”
“But as your editor I feel I have a duty to help you out of this mess.”
Diamond Tiara pulled out a small cloth bag and tossed it to Scootaloo.
“What’s this?”
“Three train tickets to Manehatten, enough money to last you for a month and the address of someone who might be able to give you work. It’s all I can do.”
Diamond Tiara looked at the three uncertainly, repressed emotions battling it out on her face.
“So…good luck.”
She began to turn away, but then stopped and pointed a hoof at Sweetie Belle. “What’s that?”
Sweetie Belle’s previously blank flank was now adorned with the image of a quill dripping a noxious-looking green liquid. The three fillies looked at it, then at each other. Sweetie Belle burst into tears.
“Well…I guess you aren’t a blank flank anymore. Uhm. Good luck!”
With that, Diamond Tiara turned and started walking away. She looked back a few times, nervous shudders running through her body, before her resolve abandoned her completely and she broke into a trot.
Applebloom patted Sweetie Belle comfortingly. Scootaloo opened the bag Diamond Tiara had left behind and then looked at her friends, a question written on her face.
After turning a corner Diamond Tiara nearly ran into Silver Spoon.
“Well?”
Forcing a confidence she didn’t feel Diamond Tiara smiled weakly and gave a toss of her head. “Played them like a violin. Soon they’ll be out my mane and no pony the wiser.”
Cute Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay!
“YES! YES! BUCK YES!” the guardsmare screamed as Trixie’s raspy tongue slid over and into her genitals with strong, sensual strokes.
Trixie continued to work her mouth between the prone pegasus’s haunches, confident that the heavy thrum of a laundry room full of industrial strength washing machines would drown out her partner’s cries. The other pony’s voice turned into an incoherent shriek of ecstasy as Trixie brought her orgasm to a soaring climax. The guardsmare fell flat on her back on the bed of freshly dried towels they had laid on the bare concrete floor, panting like she had just run a marathon.
“That was…wow.”
Trixie raised her head to give the other mare a smoldering look, her muzzle dripping with vaginal juices. “That was only the first part,” she said huskily. “Unchain Trixie’s hooves and she will show you what she can really do.”
Still trembling, the guardsmare rose to do as she was bid. With shaking hooves she dug a key ring out of her discarded uniform and began to undo the cuffs on Trixie’s front hooves. She shook so hard that she missed the keyhole, but eventually got it in and turned the lock with an audible click. Trixie wiped her mouth with her newly freed appendage and gave the other mare a devilish smile.
“Ready?”
The guardsmare nodded. “Oh Celestia, buck yes. You’re the most incred—“
Before she could finish speaking Trixie hauled off and slugged her right beneath her right ear. The guardsmare jerked to the side, stunned, as Trixie began to pummel her, every hoof blow striking her in the jaw or head. Trixie was panting by the time her victim collapsed back onto the makeshift bed, insensate. She wasted no time taking the key ring and opening the other pair of shackles, then carefully removed the hoof pieces that that grounded out her magic. Her horn crackled with sporadic blue sparks for a moment, then shown with its usual steady light.
Good. Now to get out of here.
Trixie levitated the key ring beside her and turned towards the exit to the laundry room only to see a sandy hued earth pony wearing a guard’s uniform walk in. Their eyes met and Trixie began, “Oh buck m—“
Before she could finish the other pony charged, leaping forward in a spinning kick that caught Trixie on the side of her head. Before she could react much to the blow her assailant shifted her weight onto her front hooves and bucked Trixie square in the chest, sending her flying several feet into one of the laundry machines. Trixie gave a groan as the newcomer snatched the keys out of the air in her mouth and began a steady advance. Several facts rushed through Trixie’s mind as this happened, some of them more relevant than others.
Fact one: Earth ponies were substantially stronger than unicorns.
Fact two: Prison guards didn’t generally have those kinds of aggressive reflexes. The stranger hadn’t shouted or told her to surrender; she’d skipped straight to all-out attack.
Fact three: Trixie didn’t have any weapons and she had never been particularly good at defensive or combat magic.
Fact four: Nopony was likely to hear a damned thing outside the laundry room.
Conclusions followed. First of all, this pony wasn’t really a guard. Trixie looked at her attacker blearily as the room seemed to spin around her.
“Come to finish the job?” she slurred.
The other pony gave no response.
Conclusion secundus: Whoever this pony was, she was probably from the same organization that killed Three Rings. Conclusion the third: This pony was a trained fighter. Trixie was not. And finally, conclusion four.
If Trixie didn’t do something fast, she was going to die.
As the assassin closed in Trixie began to charge magic into her horn. She was no fighter or battle mage. But she had always been pretty good at fireworks.
Suddenly a fountain of multi-colored light began to erupt in a cone from Trixie’s horn. It was eye-searingly bright, and accompanied by a cacophony of deafening sound. The sand colored earth pony hesitated for a moment, then rushed ahead blindly, trusting memory to get her within range of the azure showmare. Trixie knew she couldn’t get away in time, so she didn’t bother trying. Instead she reached out to the bed of towels behind the incoming earth pony and yanked them towards her. They wrapped themselves into tight knots around the other pony’s legs, pinning them together front and back. With a flick of her head and an additional telekinetic tug she sent the earth pony into a sliding fall that ended with her on her side a couple feet away from Trixie. The keys went flying from her mouth. Trixie picked them up and started for the door. Shestopped once she was about halfway there and turned back towards the earth pony, who was already free of the makeshift bindings and regaining her hooves. Trixie spat the key ring out of her mouth and levitated it in front her, waiting for just the right moment.
The faux guard turned just in time to see the heavy, sharp ring of keys slam into her face. She staggered back, the sudden injury eliciting a scream even from the disciplined killer. Trixie yanked the keys back before she could grab them again. Blood dripped from them as they levitated beside the magician.
“Perhaps that will teach you to tangle with the Great and Powerful Trixie!” she shouted with a defiant flick of her mane, some of her usual bravado come to the fore. The earth pony turned to glare at her with one eye, the other swollen shut beneath the hoof held against it. Trixie suddenly decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She turned and galloped away.
Trixie ran through the cellblock like a bat out of hell, ignoring the shouts from other prisoners and hoping against hope that no guards were on patrol. She was in luck for a change. When she reached the door to the guard station that led out of the cellblock she took a deep breath before thrusting the keys in the lock. After only a couple of guesses she found the right one. She threw it open, scanned the place for an instant to fix the location of the door leading out in her head and then closed her eyes and conjured blinding light once again, this time accompanied by opaque smoke. As the guards on-duty choked and rubbed their eyes she darted in and to the door. The lock clicked open. She opened the door, slammed it behind her and then relocked it, then walked away briskly. She struggled not to break into a gallop as she made her way through the lower security area in the front of the prison, knowing that her only chance was to avoid drawing attention to herself.
She was within sight of the front door of the prison when the shouts started.
Throwing stealth to the wind Trixie charged through the glass doors and cantered down the road that led away from the prison…only to find that the gate leading through the prison’s outer fence shut. Something in her died, and she struggled not to just fall to her knees crying as the pressure of the past several minutes caught up to her. She forced herself to analyze the situation. First, she examined the gate. It was tall, with two guard posts on either side. The sentries manning them would no doubt be going for their weapons in a few seconds, if they hadn’t already. A quick look back told her that it was a tossup whether they would shoot her dead before she was run down and re-arrested. Returning her attention to the gate, she noted absently that a car was approaching. Pity, if she had only arrived half a minute later she might have been able to take advantage of the chance to get through…
A second later Trixie abruptly realized that the car had not stopped. It was, in fact, accelerating and about to crash into the gate. She threw herself to the side and into a painful roll just as the vehicle smashed its way in. Two griffons popped out, both holding boxy automatic firearms in their talons. One of them sprayed fire back at the prison, forcing her pursuers to fall back. The other flapped his wings and rose up in the air almost vertically until he was level with the tops of the guard towers, then fired two quick bursts into each of them. Cries of pain and shock came down along with the shooter, who looked at Trixie and jerked his head towards the car.
Well, this was unexpected. Trixie scrambled to her hooves and got into the backseat. The first shooter got back in behind her. The other gave one last long burst and jumped in shotgun. Before the doors were shut the driver reversed gear and burned rubber.
Trixie was silent, other than her panting as she tried to catch her breath. She did that for a minute, then two, then five. Once she felt that she could talk again (and that distracting the driver wasn’t likely to result in her recapture) she asked, “Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know that,” the griffon beside her said. He still had one claw on the stock of the Tommy gun and another near the trigger. Trixie disagreed, but she moved on to question two. “Why are you helping me?”
“Someone wants to talk to you.”
“And how did you know when Trixie would be escaping?”
“We didn’t. We’s was here to take out the pony whos was sents to kill youse.”
Trixie shuddered a bit at that, realizing just how close she’d come. The adrenaline had begun to fade, leaving only exhaustion and nausea. She struggled to hold in breakfast.
After about twenty minutes that Trixie was mostly too busy retching to pay attention to they pulled into a large estate. The doorman buzzed them in without a word and Trixie was dragged out of the car roughly. She squirmed and gave the griffon a glare. “Trixie will go without a fight. Trixie is not going to run.”
“Trixie doesn’t have anywhere to go,” she added in a soft tone. The griffin frowned, then shrugged and let her go.
About ten minutes later Trixie was standing in an office. Behind a large desk was seated an older griffon in a business suit. He looked at her, beak widening in a predatory grin.
“Miss Lulamoon,” he said calmly. “I’ve been reading up on you. Very int—“
“Trixie will do it,” Trixie said flatly.
The griffon frowned. “What?”
“You sent men either to get Trixie or to kill my killer. Clearly you’re an enemy of the ones Trixie was bringing drugs into Manehatten for. You want information. Trixie will give it to you. Trixie will even help you track them down if you are nice enough to not kill her.”
The griffon stared at her, then burst out laughing so loudly that the two guards standing at attention on either side of his desk traded nervous glances. After several seconds he stopped, rubbing tears from his eyes.
“Oh I think I’m going to like you, Miss Lulamoon. Yes. Your former employers are operating in my town. Filling my city with their poison. I want them dead. You showed bad judgment in working for them, but I’ll let that slide if you work for me. Now. Tell me what you know.”
Trixie gave a shrug. “Only part of it. Trixie wasn’t the one who dealt with them directly. Three Rings called them the Hashassins. Said he owed them for favors past and they were here to collect in a big way. Said the whole circus was going to be in a bad way if we didn’t pay up. Trixie offered to help.”
The frown returned. “That’s not much.”
“There’s more. What Trixie can tell you is where they store the stuff. And where they had us send it, which is not the same thing. They’ll have changed the latter, but they didn’t know that Three Ring had them followed. Trixie can tell you where to hit them.”
The griffon brightened. “You’ve just bought yourself a new lease on life, Miss Lulamoon. Well done.”
“Trixie has one condition.”
The griffon arched an eyebrow. “You’re in no position to be giving conditions, little pony. But go on, name it.”
Trixie spat the next few words through gritted teeth.
“I want Gabby Gums.”
Cute Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay!
“You’re sendin’ us where?”
“Back to school,” Maneson repeated. “Manehatten International, one of the best in the city.”
“But you said you would find us a job if we brought you a story,” Sweetie Belle said, still in her business-like monotone. Scootaloo and Applebloom exchanged glances. That was getting more than a little unsettling.
Maneson smiled suddenly. It was an unpleasant expression, utterly devoid of any of the positive qualities normally associated with smiles.
“I am. You see, Manehatten International is where some of the richest business ponies and politicians in Equestria send their children to be boarded. It’s a gold mine of gossip and rumors, and you’re the drill I’m going to use to finally start digging it up.”
The three fillies considered that. Scootaloo spoke up first.
“What’s in it for us?”
“A place to stay, food to eat and you get a top-flight education paid for by me.” He paused. “Through an intermediary. What else could you ask for?”
“A paycheck,” Sweetie Belle said in a robotic monotone.
“What?!” Maneson shouted in a harsh cry of outrage. “What do kids like you need with a full paycheck? I’m being generous here. Saintly even! Why I oughta throw you greedy little parasites out and find somepony else who’s more—“
“If you knew of somepony else our age who you trusted to do the job right you would have hired them by now,” Sweetie Belle interjected, cutting the rant short. Maneson tried to say something but Sweetie Belle jabbed a hoof in his face and continued.
“Full front-line stringer pay for all three of us, to be deposited in bank accounts of our choosing. One year’s guaranteed paid position if this project goes wrong. Take it or leave it.”
Maneson’s face turned beet red. “Why you little, I should—“
“Take. The. Deal.”
Being interrupted only seemed to fuel his anger. “Listen filly, your column may have been good but I don’t have to take—“
“TAKE THE DEAL!” Sweetie Belle shouted, real emotion sounding in her voice for the first time since leaving Ponyville. All three of the other ponies took a step back, and all around newspaper staff stopped to stare. Greenish sparks began to fly off of Sweetie Belle’s horn.
Maneson took a moment to scan the newsroom and directed a glare that was the textbook definition of the term “evil eye” at the on-lookers. “I’m not paying you to stand around gawking! Get back to work!”
Once the newsroom returned to normal he looked back at Sweetie Belle and said in a quieter voice, “Deal. I’ll have my secretary draw up the contract.”
Without another word Sweetie Belle turned and walked away. Applebloom and Scootaloo tried to think of something to say to their new employer, than trotted after her. Once they were gone, Maneson pulled out a shotglass and a bottle of something alcoholic. He poured himself a slug.
“I hope I don’t end up regretting this,” he said to nopony in particular. He thought about that for a moment.
Oh who the buck am I kidding?”
“Sweetie Belle, wait up!”
Sweetie Belle stopped at Applebloom’s voice, though she did not turn. The earth pony and the Pegasus caught up to her on the sidewalk outside the entrance to the newspaper.
“Yes?”
“We’re, ah, we’re starting to get…”
“We’re worried about you. You’ve been acting kinda scary,” Scootaloo said bluntly.
“Scary,” Sweetie Belle said, still in a monotone.
“Yeah…” Applebloom replied. “Ah know you’re upset about-“
“About what, Applebloom?” Sweetie Belle answered, too calmly. “About how I killed Fluttershy and made everypony back home hate us? About how I dragged my best friends down with me?”
The other two blanched. “It wasn’t your fault!” Scootaloo insisted. “You couldn’t have known!”
“Couldn’t have known?” Sweetie Belle was starting to sound angry. “Couldn’t have known?!” Her eyes flashed with a red light, and sickly little sparks of energy flew from her horn again. “I should have known!” she shouted, her voice cutting. “We all should have known better!”
Her voice dropped, became something cutting and dangerous. “But you know what? You got lucky. You’re going to be able to forget about it. I can’t. Look at me. My cutie mark is in making ponies feel horrible about themselves. And if being a monster is my special talent, than a monster is what I’m going to be!”
A shudder seemed to go through the ground around the white unicorn filly. Then, suddenly the red light went away and Sweetie Belle smiled innocently. “So what’s say we go find some dirt on some rich ponies! Cutie Mark Crusaders Undercover Operatives, Yay!”
“Yay,” Applebloom echoed dully.
“Yeah, yay,” Scootaloo agreed. They watched Sweetie Belle trot on ahead.
“This won’t end well,” Scootaloo said as she started after their friend.
“Oh buck me, he’s getting up again!”
Trixie stared in disbelief as the gigantic earth pony rose from the ground, blood flowing freely from his manifold bullet wounds. A crazed grin split the stallion’s face as smoke issued from his nostrils, smoke drawn from the blunt clenched between his teeth. As Trixie watched, unbelieving, the earth pony stomped hard on the stone floor of the warehouse, smashing a suitcase-sized chunk of concrete free. He quickly turned and gave the makeshift boulder a hard buck, sending it flying towards the griffon mobsters that had opened fire on him half a minute before. The projectile clipped one on the shoulder, sending him flying, before smashing into the other lead griffon, pulping him against the wall with a squishing sound that was audible even over the sound of stony impact.
The remaining griffon, Swift Claw, pulled the trigger of his machine gun again, sending a nearly solid stream of lead at the pot-crazed berserker, but the earth pony was ready this time. He reared up on his hind legs and began to swat the bullets out of the air with impossible speed and accuracy. He caught the last one between his teeth, chewed it and spit it out, all without dislodging the burning blunt for a second.
A clicking sound came from the Tommy gun. Swift Claw looked down at his weapon as if it had betrayed him. He looked up to see the huge tan stallion rushing him, forehoof swinging towards his beak in a roundhouse blow. He went flying back with a crack like dry wood snapping. Blood splattered back onto Trixie, who gulped and took a nervous step back. The maniacal earth pony caught the motion and turned his attention to her, penis swelling to enormous proportions from drug-fueled rape lust.
Trixie raised a hoof and pointed towards the back of the factory.
“Behind you!”
The earth pony froze, then sniggered, a wild giggling fit seizing him. Did she really think that was going to work?
“Behind you, stupid!” Trixie reiterated.
With a low growl the earth pony resumed his menacing advance, then staggered forward as a heavy weight landed on him from behind. Sharp talons sunk into his throat and began to drag across his jugular, leaving a bloody gash that almost reached the stallion’s spine. The bong fell from his lips and he fell forward, dying.
The griffin, Blood Beak, gave a savage shriek, then fell backwards, moaning as pain as he clutched his wounded shoulder. Trixie looked faintly pleased.
“Foolish stallion. The Great and Powerful Trixie even told you that the attack would come from behind. The blood-soaked griffon shot her a glare.
“The hell was that all about?”
“Trixie needed to make sure that he did not turn back and see you,” she answered calmly. “Trixie knew that he would think Trixie was using the oldest trick in the book and as such keep his eyes on her.”
Blood Beak took that in for a second. “Makes sense.” He gave another gasp of pain. Trixie looked him over analytically.
“How bad is it?”
“Can’t move it. Think my shoulder’s busted.”
Trixie pursed her lips. “And Swift Claw?”
When no answer was forthcoming Trixie turned to see Swift Claw’s corpse laying against the wall about ten feet away, head smashed open by the impact. She gulped again.
“The buck was that all about?”
“It’s the drug,” Blood Beak replied, smashing the bong with his uninjured front left. “Messes with your body, makes you crazy. Sometimes it amps them up like that.” He nodded towards the earth pony stallion’s long member, which stood erect even in death. “Makes em dangerous.”
Trixie took all that in. “Trixie did not know the effects were so powerful.”
“This one time, a bunch of kids got ahold of some. Turned their entire school into a bloodbath. Nasty stuff.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle topped with an oily rag. He was awkwardly trying to light it when Trixie spoke again.
“The drug, it affects the user through the smoke, yes?”
“Yeah.”
Trixie glared at the griffon. “Then what will happen if you light an entire warehouse full of it on fire?”
Blood Beak stared at his cocktail, then the crates filling the warehouse, then back at the cocktail.
“Oh. Right.”
He put the incendiary away.
“So, if we can’t burn it, what can we…”
The sound of scraping on concrete cut him off. Trixie and Blood Beak turned to see more ponies coming from behind the stacked crates. Each one of them had a large blunt clenched in their muzzles.
“Oh buck me.”
Cute Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay!
Dear Applebloom,
Ah know that I was hard on you after what happened with Fluttershy and I apologize. You're only a young un and you couldn't know what was going to happen. Ah'm your sister and I want you to know that I will always be there for you in the future.
Anywho, you probably shouldn't come back to Ponyville anytime soon. Twilight tried to reanimate Fluttershy using some sort of fancy 'necromantic' ritual in combination with a swamp tainted by dark magic somewhere in the Everfree forest. But what we buried wasn't what came back. Fluttershy went on a rampage and animated a bunch of other corpses to serve as her minions. Rarity's dead, and so's Granny Smith. Just got swarmed and eaten alive before we could git to them. We finally managed to stop `em, but Fluttershy's not been accounted for and we still haven't found the body, or Rainbow Dash’s wing. There was just so much blood.
In conclusion, sometimes dead is better.
Your sister Applejack.
†
Applebloom put down the letter. She looked up at Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, who were watching her expectantly. She forced a wide smile to her face.
“Everything’s going well back home! Applejack says that she forgives me for everything and that eventually it’ll be safe for us to all come back.”
“Is that so?” Sweetie Belle said, a hopeful note struggling to escape her monotone. Scootaloo tried to peer over Applebloom’s shoulder at the letter, but Applebloom shoved her aside and made for the door.
“Eyup! That’s such good news, it calls for celebration! I’m going to go get a milkshake! Who’s with me?”
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle looked at each other. Something was clearly up, but…
“I have a study session planned in the science lab,” Sweetie Belle said. “One of the teachers is looking for an assistant for his cybernetics program and I want to be there to see who is likely to win.”
“I. uh, I’m going to go practice my scooter. Talk to you all later.”
With that Scootaloo made her way out of the dorm room the three shared.
Sweetie Belle looked from the door to the bed and back, noting that Scootaloo had left her scooter behind. She shrugged and made her own departure.
†
“What in Tartarus happened here?”
Shining Armor’s first words as he entered the crime scene summed up the reaction of the group of royal guards that accompanied him into the warehouse. The place was riddled with bullets and splattered with gore in every direction. One did not make it as far in the Equestrian royal guard as they had by being squeamish, but even by Shining Armor’s standards this abattoir was something else.
The police detective on the scene gave a sloppy salute and answered by levitating what looked like a half-burnt cigar up for Shining Armor to inspect. “The drug marijuana, that’s what happened.”
Shining Armor just stared at him. “Give me the expanded version.”
The detective nodded. “Near as we can tell there was a raid by a rival crime faction. Unfortunately for them, some of the guards were sampling the merchandise.” He gestured at the griffin corpses nearby. “You can see how that turned out.”
Shining Armor inspected the griffon with the crushed skull.
“How many did it take to do this?”
“Near as we can tell? One. The others pitched in later.”
Shining Armor gave him an incredulous look. The detective nodded again.
“Eyup. That’s what happens when somepony sucks the devil’s penis. I expect that’s why they sent you.”
Shining Armor rubbed the flat part of his hoof between his eyes. “How bad are we talking about?”
“Well, the forensics team thinks maybe four or five dealer ponies got away, each carrying as much hash as they could. Which is enough to get maybe a few dozen or so ponies high off their minds. We don’t know if they regrouped or touched base with the rest of their organization or just hunkered down and decided they wanted to see Celestia, but whatever they’re up to it can’t be good.
Shining Armor straightened, repressing a sigh. “Alright. First things first, we have to contain the spread of the drug. I’m authorizing you to do a door to door search of every residence, gas station, warehouse, whorehouse, dog house, outhouse and hen house in a five block radius. Don’t bother with warrants. Call in whatever support you need; I’ll back it.”
He stomped his hooves.
“Let’s move out!
†
Trixie and Blood Beak stumbled into the safe house, gasping for breath in long, ragged gulps. Blood caked them, much of it their own, mute testament to the ferocious battle they had fought to escape with their lives. The sickly sweet smell of pot still clung to their nostrils, as if trying to worm its way through their skulls and into their brains. Trixie gave a shudder at the thought.
Blood Beak closed the heavy steel door and began cycling through the myriad locks intended to keep it that way. Trixie shuddered, once, the sweat drenching her coat already gone cold and clammy. “Where’s the shower?” she said, and her voice came out as a croak.
“In the back. Hallway. Can’t miss it.”
Trixie made her way to the promised shower. The bathroom was surprisingly well-provided, with slate floors and brass fixtures. Trixie took it all in as she tromped exhausted into the shower. She shivered again as the hot water hit her from above, this time in pleasure. She lost track of time as she washed the gore off of her water-slicked body, using her magic to give her silvery mane the shampooing it so desperately craved.
All too soon afterwards she was clean. She bowed her head under the stream from the shower head, not wanting to leave. Suddenly she heard a coughing sound from outside and pulled the shower curtain open. Blood Beak was standing there.
“Reported to the boss. He says…”
Blood Beak’s words trailed off as she saw Trixie’s drenched mane peak out from the shower. Trixie gave a laugh, her first real laugh in what seemed like forever. Never failed.
“Don’t worry, big boy,” she crooned as she slid the shower curtain all the way open with her magic. She rose up onto her hind legs and turned the shower off with her hooves, giving him a show. “Look as long as you like.”
She levitated a towel over and started blotting the water off of herself. Slowly.
Blood Beak watched her the entire time. When she was done Trixie gave him a sultry look. “Like what you see, stud?”
The big griffon swallowed. “Yeah.”
Trixie sauntered over to him, giving him a quick appraisal. Beak couldn’t be helped, but those muscles were nice, as was the burgeoning erection she saw between his legs. Yes, she’d had worse. She drew closer, putting her mouth inches away from his ear.
“Get in the shower. I’ll help you…clean up.”
The griffon’s claws nearly gouged furrows in the floor in his rush to comply.
Cute Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay!
Trixie drifted lazily back to consciousness, her pelvic region still sore and throbbing from the pounding it had received the night before. She felt a warm, feathery mass behind her and snuggled closer to her griffon lover. He stirred slightly in response. Trixie gave a wicked grin and began to squirm down towards the bottom of the bed. She turned to find his cock thrust out into her face. She gave it a gentle lick and Blood Beak stirred again, beginning to purr. She grinned again, mischievously, then opened wide and moved closer, enveloping it in warm, wet delight. It hardened in her mouth, and her eyes rolled slightly as she felt the tiny barbs on the cat penis that had scrapped her vagina raw during their passionate lovemaking the night before pull across her tongue and the roof of her mouth.
It didn’t take long for one as practiced as Trixie. Before long the now wide awake griffon was giving a leonine roar to announce his orgasm to all and sundry and the back of Trixie’s now sore throat was given a soothing balm of salty cum. Trixie swallowed, gave Blood Beak’s balls one last tender lick and rolled on her back. She stared at the ceiling as her companion sat up and began to stretch. The shrieking animal sex had done its work and driven the memories of recent events from their mind, but Trixie knew that couldn’t last forever. Already she felt reality beginning to seep back in. She closed her eyes, desperate to hold onto her exhausted peace of mind. The mattress began to rock as Blood Beak began to get out of bed. Trixie gave a mental sigh and followed suit.
They regained their feet at about the same time and looked at one another. Trixie gave him a coy smile and the big lummox seemed to flush beneath his feathers. The smile turned into a grin as she turned her head to scan the room and the hallway leading from it. Holes had smashed in the walls at various points and deep claw marks had been ripped into the floor. Broken fixtures littered the room and the carpet was shredded in places.
“Trixie gives last night a seven out of ten,” she said after due consideration.
Blood Beak looked offended. “Seven?”
“Fix Trixie breakfast and she will consider raising her assessment to an eight,” the unicorn said with a sniff. She walked out of the bedroom, flank swaying dangerously as she did. “Trixie prefers her coffee black.”
Whoever the safe house had originally been intended to must have been fairly well-placed in the organization. The walk-in freezer was filled with various kinds of meats, not something that was common or strictly speaking legal in a pony city. Blood Beak wanted to indulge, but a revolted look from Trixie put paid to that. The griffon grumbled as he prepared oat porridge for the haughty pony, but he did it under his breath. When the meal was ready the two sat and regarded each other awkwardly from across the table. Awkward for the griffon anyway. Trixie casually levitated her cup of coffee to her mouth and took a sip. She sighed contentedly.
“Trixie does so enjoy the finer things in life.”
She gave Blood Beak a look.
“You said your boss had sent instructions?”
Blood Beak started, remembering what he had been trying to do the night before when everything started.
“Yeah, he wants us to report back,” Blood Beak stammered. “Said he wants us back at his compound. Too many of the dealers got away. Circle the wagons, that sort of thing.”
Trixie took another sip of the coffee and shuddered in ecstasy. “You do realize there’s no point in going back, don’t you?”
Blood Beak looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Trixie has seen how these ponies operate. Do you really think they wouldn’t immediately retaliate after an attack like this? Most likely everyone from the don to the cleaning staff is already dead.”
Blood Beak stared at Trixie blankly. Trixie continued.
“Trixie believes that there is more to this than simple drug smuggling. Having seen the effects of this marijuana in action Trixie concludes that it is not a sustainable product. If the ponies Trixie encountered at the warehouse are anything to judge by the mere presence of the drug would lead to mass chaos and death. Criminals are still business ponies, and they need someone to sell to. Thus it cannot be simply about turning a profit.”
Blood Beak still didn't understand. “Then what is it about?”
“That is what Trixie intends to find out.”
†
“I’m surprised to see you had the guts to show up.”
Scootaloo narrowed her eyes. “Likewise.”
The half-grown griffon chick chuckled as she prowled across the rooftop towards the orange pegasus. When she came within a few feet she changed course and began circling Scootaloo, who turned to keep her in sight. After completing a full circuit the griffon stopped and gave Scootaloo a cocky smile.
“Did you bring it?” she asked
“Of course,” Scootaloo said with a bravado she did not feel.
“Alright then,” the griffon said as she pulled something from the bag at her side. “Let’s do this.”
That said, the two sat down on their haunches and began to lay out their respective cards. Minutes went by as the two built up their opposing forces and went at each other with reckless abandon, sending imaginary hordes crashing into one another in the space between them. Sweat beaded on their faces as they both reshuffled their respective decks for what they both sensed would be the last phase of their battle. Finally Scootaloo laid down a card with a flourish and grinned.
“Got anything that can stop that?”
The griffon chick looked at her hand desperately, scanning every card in her possession for some sort of gambit that could get her out of the trap. Finally she sighed.
“Starswirl’s Timehop. Good one. Not many players can pull it off.”
Scootaloo puffed her chest out. “I learned from the best,” she boasted, thinking back to how Twilight had given her that book on winning Po-Ni-Oh strategies. She slumped slightly as the thought brought back more memories of home, of how she had taken up the game to impress Rainbow Dash, of how…
“You alright?” the griffon said, confused at the tears that had suddenly appeared on her opponent’s face. Scootaloo wiped at her eyes and snorted in a quick breath.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said huskily. “Good game.”
She extended a hoof. “Scootaloo.”
The griffon bumped a closed claw against it. “Nina Slatewing.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Scootaloo said, awkwardly repeating the phrase she had been told to use during their rushed etiquette training. Nina rolled her eyes.
“Please, don’t give me that. I was just about to say that you don’t seem like the rest of these stuck-up ponies.”
“Oh, hehe. Right.” Scootaloo said, sheepishly running her hoof over the back of her neck.
Nina looked up at the sky.
“S’about lunch time. You wanna go grab something? My treat.”
Scootaloo looked confused. “You mean the cafeteria?”
Nina made a rude noise. “As if. Damned pony preppies think they’re too good for a little protein. Come on, I know this great bodega a cousin of mine runs.”
Manehatten had an excellent mass transit system, Scootaloo learned. Within twenty minutes they were walking out of a little hole in the wall with bags of delicious-smelling food dangling from their mouths. They made their way to an empty bench and made themselves comfortable. Scootaloo dug into her noodles hungrily as Nina unpacked her own to-go box. Scootaloo looked over curiously.
“What is that anyway?”
Nina thrust a claw into the box and pulled out something steaming. She held the speared morsel out for Scootaloo’s inspection.
“Fish.”
Scootaloo drew back, gorge rising. “Ugh, really? Is that even legal?”
Nina rolled her eyes. “You big chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken!”
“You ain’t ever had non-pony cuisine, have you?”
“Of course not!” Scootaloo blurted out before she realized how that sounded. “I mean, where I’m from there aren’t any meat-eaters.”
Nina chuckled. “I’da figured you’d at least seen animals chowing down living out in the sticks.”
“Hey!” Scootaloo protested. “I’m not—“ she paused. “How’d you know that?”
“Accent. Everypony here is either old money or from new money who can pay for voice lessons to catch up. You don’t talk like either, and you sure ain’t no Manehattenite.”
Scootaloo frowned. “You don’t sound like—“ she started to say ‘Rarity,’ but stopped herself. “Some high class pony.”
Nina laughed at that, a loud exuberant cawing that reminded Scootaloo strangely of Rainbow Dash. “That’s cus I ain’t a pony, and my family has enough say that I don’t have to make myself sound like no wanna be social climber.”
She flexed her wings. “Griffons don’t gotta climb nowhere. You get my drift?”
Scootaloo nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure she understood.
Conversation ceased by mutual unspoken agreement at that point as the two returned their attentions to their respective meals. Scootaloo kept her eyes carefully away from her new friend. She didn’t trust herself to keep her noodles down otherwise. When she finished Scootaloo hopped down from the bench and walked over to a trash bin to dispose of her take-out box. A shadow fell over her as she tossed it in. She looked up to see a fedora-wearing unicorn looming over her. She skittered away from him by reflex only to slam back up against the trash bin. The unicorn leaned down after her, his sickly sweet breath blowing into her face.
“Hey little filly,” the pony said, giggling weirdly. “Looking for a good time? I’ve got something that’ll get you good and wasted.”
“Whaddya mean, wasted?” Scootaloo said suspiciously.
“I mean it’ll help you get hiiiggh,” the unicorn said, drawing out the last word as he levitated a small bag from out of his trench coat.
“I don’t know what that means!” Scootaloo said. She was nervous and confused, but she tried to hide it. “Besides, I don’t have any more bits on me,” she added, hoping that would be enough to get rid of the strange pony.
“That’s okay, little filly,” the unicorn said in a strange, high-pitched voice that raised the hairs on the back of Scootaloo’s neck. “The first time’s free. Come on, try it. It’ll make you feel good. ”
Scootaloo tried to say, “No thanks,” but as she opened her mouth something shot out from the bag and into her mouth. Her lips closed around a long, weird-smelling cylinder of paper wrapped around something dry and ground up. Scootaloo tried to spit it out, but the red glow of the unicorn’s magic enveloped her muzzle and forced her mouth to stay shut. Scootaloo struggled vainly as the unicorn conjured up a tiny spark of flame in the air in front of her. It drifted closer towards the blunt’s tip.
“Party time…” the unicorn whispered with perverse delight.
Just as the cigarette began to glow and smoke something leapt onto the unicorn’s back. He howled in agony as sharp claws ripped into his flesh, drawing long, bloody gouges. The sparkling magic vanished from around Scootaloo and she hurriedly spat out the burning thing.
“Whatcha doing, little kitty?!” the unicorn said, still in the same creepy pedo-voice. “I’ve got more than enough to go around!”
The unicorn’s horn glowed again, and the furious Nina was lifted off of the pony’s back. She hissed and clawed furiously at the air, but the unicorn backed out of the griffon’s range.
“Leave her alone, ya freak!”
“Is that any way to talk to your pusher man?” the unicorn said with another titter. He levitated the fallen blunt off of the sidewalk. “Here, we don’t mind sharing.”
Nina clamped her beak shut. The unicorn frowned and slammed her into the side of the waste bin. Her mouth opened in shock, and the unicorn was quick to force the smoking blunt in. He shifted his magical focus and suddenly Nina felt her nostrils being pinched shut. She struggled futilely in the air, trying to hold her breath, trying to make every second count. Her lungs burned with agony, and she knew she couldn’t resist for long.
“Halt, criminal scum!”
The unicorn jerked his head towards the speaker just in time to see a pair of iron-shod hooves slam into his face with a sickening crunch. He went flying end over end. Nina fell to the sidewalk with a squawk as the field of tingling magic suspending her in the air vanished abruptly. The sudden impact forced her to exhale in a sudden burst. Her feathery chest heaved as she sucked in air in ragged gasps. As the dark spots began to clear from her vision she struggled to regain her footing, claws scrapping frantically against the pavement. As she did something hard poked into her shoulder. She spun around snarling. She was about to bite a chunk out of her assailant when she recognized Scootaloo’s terrified face inches away from her own. She froze. Scootaloo stared at her with wide eyes. Nina snapped her beak shut and shook her head, fighting to regain her senses and resist the predator’s instinct to rip and tear.
Before either filly could say anything a shadow passed over them, accompanied by the rustle of feathered wings. They turned in unison to see a white coated pegasus in gold armor land between them and unicorn, who was sprawled out in a heap beneath the wall of a nearby building. The pegasus struck a ready stance, keeping his eyes fixed on the fallen pony. He gestured with his head without looking back.
"Are you two alright?"
"Y—Yeah mister," Scootaloo said in a slightly quavering voice. She gulped audibly, trying to hide her fear.
"Stay back," the guardspony barked in a gruff voice. "Don’t get too close. I’ll—"
Something flickered at the edge of Scootaloo’s field of vision. She looked down to see the red glow of the unicorn’s magic lift the still-burning joint off the sidewalk. Scootaloo shouted, "Look out!" just as it whipped through the air towards its summoner. The pegasus guard flinched slightly as the burning blunt zipped past him. It landed neatly in the fedora-wearing pony’s slightly open mouth. He took a deep drag from the evil cigarette and shuddered as the vile fumes filled his lungs.
"Hehe," the unicorn giggled, sounding more twisted and pedophilic by second. His eyes began to smolder as literal flames sprang from their sockets, and oily black shadows began to congeal around his horn. The guard pony took an involuntary step back, then forced himself to stop. His out-stretched wings snapped back down to his sides as he lowered his head and charged.
"Sol Invictus!" he cried, gallant as anything the two youngsters had ever seen as he rushed the pot-fueled evil doer. More laughter rang out in reply, and a tendril of solid darkness lashed out from the unicorn’s horn. The dark magic smacked the guardspony off his hooves and into the air with casual ease. He spun wildly before managing to regain control with his wings. He hung hovering in the air for a moment.
"Children," he said before gasping and clenching his teeth in pain. He hissed and dropped a foot in altitude before forcing his way back up with shuddering wing beats. "Get out of here."
Scootaloo and Nina stood frozen and staring. The guardspony risked a look back and gave them a hard glare.
"Go!"
Nina was the first to recover. The griffon chick nudged Scootaloo hard. The pegasus filly flinched, then tore her gaze away from the scene. The two turned and ran away as fast as their half-grown limbs would carry them. Behind them came a horrible shriek, followed by more maniacal giggling. Cement cracked as something was slammed into it hard, accompanied by the sound of bones breaking. The giggles became full-blown laughter as the shrieks of pain turned to sobs and incoherent begging. Then the begging was replaced by more frenzied screaming.
"HE'S RAPING ME! HE'S RAPING ME! HE'S RAPING ME AND IT HURTS!"
They beat a hasty retreat.
Cute Mark Crusaders Destroyers of Worlds, Yay!
“Porters, come here!” the Great and Powerful Trixie said in an imperious voice that easily cut through the noise of the bustling train station.
Scootaloo and Applebloom looked at each other. “Who, us?”
“Yes of course,” Trixie said. “Trixie has a great deal of luggage and cannot be expected to deal with such herself.”
“But we’re not—“
Applebloom gave Scootaloo a quick nudge. “Of course, Miss Great an’ Powerful Trixie! Right away, ma’am!”
Leaving the still shell-shocked Sweetie Belle behind Applebloom dashed ahead, gesturing with her shoulder for her companion. Shrugging, Scootaloo complied. Applebloom continued to speak.
“An which luggage is yours?”
“The blue set with my cutie mark emblazoned on top,” Trixie said, unconsciously beaming a bit at being recognized so soon after arriving.
Applebloom eyed the five heavy suitcases deposited near the luggage car of the train. “…Of course. Anything you say.”
As the two fillies began wrestling the luggage onto their backs Scootaloo asked with a gasp, “Why are we doing this?”
“Because we need money and we’ll probably get a tip if we make her happy,” Applebloom said, grunting as she finessed the heaviest of the luggage onto her earth pony frame.
“Oh,” Scootaloo said. “Good thinking.”
“Just follow my lead,” Applebloom said as she took the handle of the last suitcase in her mouth. With that, she began dragging the small mountain of luggage towards Trixie.
“It’s about time,” Trixie said irritably. “Now come! Trixie’s carriage awaits!”
Gasping with exertion the entire time the two ersatz porters followed Trixie to the pickup zone, Sweetie Belle trailing behind them. When they got there she stopped at the curb, scanned the street impatiently and then turned back to Applebloom.
“Well done porters,” Trixie said, levitating out a bit for each of them. “You have Trixie’s appreciation.”
“That’s all?” Applebloom said, a slight quaver in her voice. Her eyes began to go wide in a heartbreakingly pleading look.
“Yes of course,” Trixie said dismissively. “And don’t think that you can guilt Trixie into a bit more.”
Applebloom recoiled a bit at the stinging rebuke. Scootaloo jumped in.
“We’re sorry, Miss Great and Powerful Trixie. It’s just that she’s a big fan of your show and she knows she won’t be able to spend that bit because she’ll want to keep it forever as a souvenir.”
Trixie looked startled for a moment before her ego swelled back up to its usual hugeness.
“Well then, she should have just said so!” Trixie replied, levitating a pair of small bags that clinked with something metallic within. “Trixie’s heart is always warmed by hearing from her admirers. In fact, hold on for a moment.”
Trixie’s horn began to glow and the smallest of the suitcases popped open. Something small and white and blue came flying out of it. It unfurled in Trixie’s deft magical grip to reveal a T-shirt emblazoned with Trixie’s smirking face and the words “Great and Powerful Trixie” underneath it. She held it in front of Applebloom, who hesitantly took it in her mouth. Trixie smiled.
“There now little one. And if you happen to come by the Barnhorse Circus sometime this week you will find Trixie performing feats of magic such as have never before been witnessed by pony eyes!”
Trixie’s voice began to rise in volume and enthusiasm until she finally she stood on her hind legs and threw her front hooves up in a dramatic gesture. She stood there smiling with her eyes closed. She seemed to be waiting for something. After a moment Scootaloo realized she was expecting fireworks to go off.
After several seconds Trixie opened one eye and seemed to realize that she was not on stage. Not abashed in the slightest, she lowered herself back down.
“If you want to come backstage, the password is “Sparkle,” Trixie added.
As Trixie was speaking Applebloom began to weave back and forth, just a bit at first but more and more as Trixie’s monologue progressed. Finally she fell sideways and crashed squarely into Scootaloo, sending luggage, limbs and fillies sprawling in a heap. The largest of the suitcases popped open, sending a truly prodigious array of fireworks sprawling all over the place.
Trixie’s eyes widened in horror. “Imbecilic mules!” she cried. “What have you done to Trixie’s things?!”
Trixie’s horn glowed blue again and the helter-skelter fallen fireworks began to dart back towards the luggage. A carriage pulled up behind her just as she reclosed the suitcase.
“Is everything alright?” a calm voice asked from the carriage’s small window.
“Alright? Yes, yes of course, everything is fine!” Trixie stammered, shooting a poisonous glare at the young fillies. Scootaloo and Applebloom shrank back from the look. Trixie began piling her luggage into the back of the carriage with her magic. “Nothing wrong here!”
With that, Trixie turned and climbed into the carriage, nearly tripping over her own hooves as she did. Scootaloo noticed that she seemed to be trembling slightly.
A few seconds later the carriage pulled away. As it did, Sweetie Belle finally spoke up.
“Wait! You forgot…oh pony feathers.”
Scootaloo and Applebloom turned towards Sweetie Belle. She had what seemed to be a large, red firecracker in front of her. As they looked askance at her Sweetie Belle pulled her ears back and said, “She missed one.”
“Oh well,” Scootaloo said sarcastically. “Maybe we’ll go by that circus and bring it back!”
“We will?” Applebloom asked, face twisted in distaste.
“Of course we won’t,” Scootaloo said. “Now let’s go find that pony Diamond Tiara told us about.
“Halter! I want those pictures on my desk in time for the evening edition!”
The graying earth pony flared his nostrils as he shouted across the newsroom. The motion displayed his short, closely trimmed mustache. Most ponies had stopped wearing that style of mustache after Chancellor Rudolf of the earth ponies had launched his genocidal war of conquest against the other tribes during the pre-Harmony days. M. Moaner Maneson, editor–in-chief of the Bugle Horn, was not one of those ponies. Nothing as minor as a legendary mass murdering tyrant was going to stop him from grooming himself his way, damn it, and the perpetual scowl on his face dared anypony to disagree.
As the photographer scrambled to obey Maneson adjusted the cigar in his mouth and began to stalk towards his office, only to be tripped by something underfoot. Barely keeping his footing, he glared downwards the moment he regained his balance, only to find three young fillies looking back at him with pleading expressions. He took an involuntary step back, repelled by the sheer weaponized cuteness, before regaining his customary glower.
“And what do you want?”
The three fillies looked at each other nervously, then back at Maneson. Scootaloo was the first to react. Reaching into her saddlebags she pulled out a letter and passed it to the imposing earth pony. Scowling, Maneson tore open the envelope and began reading it. After about half a minute he returned his attention to the fillies, his scowl deepening.
“I don’t need any interns,” he said flatly, then turned and started walking back towards his office.
“What?!” Scootaloo said.
“But yah have to!” Applebloom chimed in at the same time. Maneson paused and turned back, taking a few steps forward to lean his face inches away from Applebloom’s.
“Have to?! I run this paper and I say I don’t need any kids running around underfoot!”
“But—“ Applebloom stammered. Maneson continued.
“But nothing! I don’t care whose daughter you’re friends with; I make the hiring decisions here and the last thing I need is some hayseed in my press room!”
“Can’t you just give us a chance?” Scootaloo begged. “We’ll do anything!”
“Not interested!” Maneson growled in reply. “Now get out.”
“But—“
“NOW!”
Applebloom and Scootaloo backed away hurriedly. Maneson started to turn away again and was muttering to himself, “Damned Filthy Rich thinks he can buy out my stock and start barking out orders? Not while I’m editor-in-chief! He wants to fire me, he can find someone else to put up with him and make this place run right!” when Sweetie Belle spoke up for the first time since they’d arrived at the newsroom.
“What if we can bring you a story?”
Maneson paused at the calm, business-like tone. He looked at Sweetie Belle. “What?”
“I said, what if we can bring you a story? A good one. Front page material.”
Maneson sneered. “What’re you going to do? Report on your school fair?”
“Gossip column. We’ll bring you dirt on a celebrity. I’ll write it up, you print it. If it’s good, you give us jobs.”
Maneson was starting to feel a bit unnerved by the filly’s brusque tone. “And what makes you think you can do that?”
Sweetie Belle turned a bit to display the cutie mark on her flank. She looked back at Maneson, one eyebrow raised. He coughed slightly.
“Alright,” he said finally. “It’s a deal. You bring me something good, and I mean front page good, and I’ll find something for you to do.”
“Good doing business with you,” Sweetie Belle said curtly
With that, Maneson turned and headed back towards his office faster than was strictly necessary. Scootaloo and Applebloom looked at Sweetie Belle.
“That was amazing!” Applebloom said.
“Yeah, you showed him,” Scootaloo agreed. “But how are we gonna—“
“Outside,” Sweetie Belle said in the same toneless voice as before.
Once they were back out in the street Sweetie Belle turned towards an alley between the Bugle Horn and a neighboring building. Without a word she walked into it. Her friends shared a look, shrugged and then followed her. Once they were about fifteen feet into the alley Sweetie Belle turned and pulled the firecracker from before out of her saddlebags.
“Applebloom, do you still have those matches you took from the farm?”
“Yeah, but why—“
“Just give them to me.”
Confused, Applebloom complied. Sweetie Belle took the matchbox, drew a match out and struck a light, which she held against the end of the firecracker’s fuse. Applebloom and Scootaloo’s eyes widened.
“Are you crazy?! Don’t point that at us!”
The two fillies dived for cover. A second later the fuse crackled to a halt. Nothing happened. They looked up from their prone positions and back at Sweetie Belle.
“Just as I thought,” Sweetie Belle said. “This isn’t a real firecracker.”
Sweetie Belle lifted her hoof and brought it down sharply on the firecracker. The casing broke open with an audible snap and what looked like some sort of herbs came spilling out. Applebloom stepped closer and took a sniff.
“Hey, I recognize this stuff! Zecora called it ‘hashish.’ But ain’t that—“
“Yes,” Sweetie Belle said. “It is illegal.”
“Then why did Trixie have it?” Scootaloo said.
“Because she was carrying it for somepony,” came Sweetie Belle’s too calm reply. “And I’ll bet anything she had more in her luggage.”
The three fillies looked at one another, comprehension dawning on Scootaloo and Applebloom’s faces. Paydirt.
“Is that everything?” Three Rings asked as they finished unpacking the last of Trixie’s luggage.
“Yes sir,” Trixie said in an unusually respectful tone. There was nopony else in Equestria that Trixie used that honorific for. As far as Trixie was concerned, the circus master who had taken her in as a filly and taught her to perform on stage was the only pony in Equestria who deserved it.
Three Rings heaved a sigh of relief mixed with sadness. “I hate asking you to do this, Lula,” he said quietly. “I was the one who got the circus into debt with those people. There’s no reason why you should have to get involved too.”
“Psshaw,” Trixie said, some of her usual bravado leaking back into her voice. “Trixie would never turn her back on her old friend and teacher when he was in need. Trixie was in no danger; the ruse was perfect. Nopony suspected a thing.”
The older unicorn chuckled. “Very well then. Now we just have to wait for them to send their courier—“
Suddenly an earth pony dressed in a clown’s makeup and wearing large oversized boots came rushing into the circus master’s office. Trixie and Three Rings both jumped at the intrusion, clearly on edge, but it was only Tumbler, one of the circus’s other performers. Three Rings looked at him sharply.
“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” he growled. “This had better be good.”
Without a word Tumbler dropped a newspaper on Three Rings’ desk. The unicorn levitated it over for inspection and read the headline.
“Minor Magician Mare Marticulates Into Major Drug Market Mule,” he read aloud, his already white face turning ashen. Trixie sputtered for a moment, “Minor?! Why Trixie should—,“ before realizing the full implications of what she had just heard. She looked at Three Rings, eyes wide.
“I have to—,” she began.
“Get out of here, yes,” Three Rings agreed. “The police will be here soon, and if we’re lucky they’ll arrive first.”
“What about you?” Trixie demanded. “You know they’ll be coming after you for this. Sir, I’m…I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright Lula,” he said, using his old nickname for her in an attempt to calm her down. “I can talk my way out of this. If you’re gone there won’t be any…evidence.”
Three Rings’ voice trailed off as he looked at the pile of very illegal drugs stacked in plain sight on the floor of his office. His jaw worked for a moment, then he resumed speaking.
“Alright, I see your point. So we both need to get out of here. With us gone there won’t be anything to tie it to any of the others. Tumbler,” he said, turning to the clownish acrobat. “In the third draw on the left of my desk there’s a letter. It explains what to do in just this sort of situation. Give it to the manticore tamer. She’ll know what to do.”
“But—“
“There’s no time! Just do it!”
With that, Three Rings led the way out of the office.
Much to Trixie’s dismay uniformed police ponies were already coming in from all of the big tent’s entrances. She froze in place, but Three Rings turned back and shouted, “Move!” in a tone of absolute authority and confidence. She followed him as he galloped to the oversized cannon the acrobats used in some of their acts. Trixie stared.
“You have to be bucking kidding.”
“Get in Trixie,” Three Rings said quietly. I’ll be right after you.”
Shaking with adrenaline, Trixie climbed into the barrel of the stunt cannon, even as some of the coppers began to point in her direction and shout. Three Rings rushed to the back of the cannon and bowed his head in concentration, adjusting the elevation of the cannon and conjuring up a tongue of flame that set the fuse of the massive thing sizzling. With speed and dexterity that seemed out of place for a pony of his years he dashed back to the front and hurled himself into the barrel, landing in a sprawling jumble with Trixie. He closed his eyes.
A moment later, the cannon went off.
With a loud whump the two unicorns were sent flying out at high speed. Trixie screamed as the upper wall of the tent rushed up to meet them, but another hurried spell from Three Rings slashed a hole in the canvass just large enough to let them through. Once they’d flown through it and clear of the big tent his horn began to glow again and a sphere of blue light surrounded him and Trixie, lowering them both to the ground at a survivable if not gentle velocity.
Both ponies let out a loud oomph as they hit the ground. Trixie went tumbling for about half a dozen feet before managing to stop herself. When she rose to her hooves she saw her mentor staring at the tent they had just left behind. A single tear ran down his cheek.
Trixie touched him on the shoulder softly. “Sir, we have to go,” she said quietly.
He nodded and turned, leaving the circus he had spent his life building behind.
“How could this possibly get any worse?” Trixie thought to herself.
Suddenly a crossbow bolt appeared in Three Rings’ left breast, buried all the way up to the fletching. Trixie followed the bolt’s trajectory to see a pegasus taking flight from a nearby building. She turned back in horror in time to see her teacher fall to the ground, blood soaking his chest. She grabbed him in her hooves as she fell, screaming, “NOOOOOO!!!” at the top of her lungs.
The police found them like that a few minutes later.
