Batmare and the foal wonder!

The impatient unicorn mare paced back and forth in the dismal gloom. It was not quite midnight, but she hated even the thought of being kept waiting.  Somepony as important as her should be waited on, not the other way around!

“Um… excuse me…” A timid voice squeaked through the narrow slats of its piney prison. “Is there something to eat besides pinecones?”

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with pinecones? The great and poww-oooison joke eats pinecones all the time, they are a delectable treat!”

Meanwhile, in her Trotham mansion, Batmare was suiting up. A menacing pleather cowl donned her regal head, a flowing shadowy cape draped over her shoulders and a black molded pleather armor suit (with 6 pack abs!) covered her body. One final touch and she would be ready to rescue her wayward apprentice!

“You mean you really don’t know who Batmare is?” the tiny prisoner proclaimed.

“The great Poison Joke told you, that is why she kidnapped you in the first place!”

“But… she has wings and a horn!”

“One of them could be fake, or both! That doesn’t narrow it down at all… did you say she?”

“Her name is Batmare!”

“We thought that was just artistic license!”

Pipsqueak pondered this for a moment. He didn’t know you needed a license to be artistic, was Batmare legal? He really didn’t want to say something stupid, especially in the face of such obliviousness, so he changed the subject.

“Why do you want to know who Batmare is, anyway?”

“Well, we thought Batmare was a colt… we were going to seduce him and steal all his stuff!”

“That’s a terrible plan!”

“We know that now.”

“No, it’s terrible even if Batmare was a colt.”

“Silence foal! We don’t need advice from a-“

Her retort cut short as a thunderous noise grew in volume. The ground began to shake as the sharp report of cracking trees drew closer. The cacophony exploded as a harsh chugging sound filled the air, acrid smoke seeped into the clearing and a piercing monstrous wail caused flocks of birds to abandon their nests. With a final, shattering bellow, a gargantuan black shape burst from the trees. The heavy metallic beast digging a trench as it slowed to a stop. With a final hiss, the thing halted mere inches from the pine cage holding Batmares protégé, who was now shaking rather badly, and curled into the fetal position.

A heroic figure leapt to the top of the mechanical monstrosity and struck a dashing pose. Poison joke stared open mouthed at the spectacle, totally in awe of such grandstanding. (If this was just her entrance…)

“Wha-“

“BEHOLD THE BAT-TRAIN!!!” screamed Batmare in her best Canterlot Voice™.

“We… the… that-“

“BAT-TRAIN!” Batmare insisted, sweeping a hoof as if inviting the audience to behold her creation.

“Yes, it’s very nice, but we-“

“Baaaaaaaaat-traaaaaiiiiiiinnnnn!” she hissed, casting a glare at the boisterous Poison Joke.

This was just too much for Poison Joke to handle. Batmare was right! What were her illusions compared to such grandeur? Ursa major? Ha! This mechanical contraption could make roadkill of such a beast, and Batmare only used it to make entrances! Batmare… so haughty, so arrogant, so smug! So… perfect…

“Oh you’re right! We’re soooooo pathetic! Please, take us to your personal dungeon, we deserve it!”

“Um,” Batmare deftly replied, “we usually just turn criminals in to the police.”

“No! You can’t take us to the police, we don’t deserve such kind treatment! No, we must be punished for our pitiful attempt at villainy. And who better to administer such punishment than Batmare?”

“Hmmm…” Batmare reasoned.

Poison Joke deftly kicked open the pine fortress she had been keeping her puny prisoner in. “S-see? We’ll even let your sidekick go if you’ll promise to attend to our imprisonment personally!”

“I gueeeeeeesssss.” The dark mare answered hesitantly.

“Yesssss- we mean we humbly accept our fate.” Something not unlike resignation struggled to cover barely restrained glee.

Finally recovering from his near death experience, Pipsqueak managed to speak. “P-poison joke, you’re weird.”

Batmare and Pipsqueak regarded the oddly happy prisoner through the bars of their new ‘personal dungeon’.

“Well, she seems happy, at least.” Pipsqueak still wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole thing.

“Yes, old chum, it looks like this mare has a good sense of humor, even when the joke is on her.”

Poison Joke’s smile faded a bit at the painful remark, but just a bit. She did ask to be tortured, after all.