Chapter 3

Thirty minutes had passed since Rarity (mare #2) left the school, and things weren't looking good for her. Her hooves were dirty, her mane was a disaster, and the pack that was given to her had destroyed her perfect coat. She could also die.

When her name was called, Rarity had pulled herself together, and departed without a word. It was the best she could do to save what little face she had left. She was not proud of her loss in composure back in that classroom. She had to be careful. It was situations like these that made ladies like Rarity slip through the cracks of hysteria. The events that unfolded after she left the school was absolutely the worst possible scenario anypony would ever have to go through.

Initially, she had taken the road, but as she came down the path she'd heard an unbelievably loud bang, and a tree branch no more than three feet away from her had shattered into a million pieces. Before her mind could react, her body was already galloping through the woods, trying disparately to loose her assailant. To her knowledge, she had been successful in doing so, but the frantic escape left her body in a much worse state than before.

She was currently holed up in a small cottage in the middle of the woods. The interior looked as though it had been long since abandoned. Everything had a thick layer of dust on it, and Rarity could smell wood rotting. What was once a modest kitchen was now a feeding ground for raccoons, mice, and other savage creatures of the like. The living room had a small coffee table in the center. Its contemporary design, combined with several years of neglect, had left it in shambles. On either side of the broken table were two metal frames that presumably once held two voluptuous couches. Rarity could see tufts of foam and fabric on the frame that were too stubborn to rot away with the rest of the cushions. In all, Rarity thought it was far too rustic for her tastes. And that was assuming it was in top condition. But alas, despite the disgusting kitchen, the rotten living room, and the overall rotten smell, it still beat the dark, dank forest. To be honest, Rarity didn't know what she would have done if she hadn't found a haven such as this.

Upon entering the sad little cottage, Rarity immediately went to work in repairing the damage done by the arduous trek through the woods. It wasn't easy; all of her belongings, and thus all of her appearance-maintaining tools, had been left back on the train. Luckily, there was a mirror in the front hall of the cottage. It was quite a disturbing sight for Rarity to see herself if such a dreadful state, but after the initial shock she saw that there was work to be done. It was going to be hard, but she could make it work. She'd looked through the contents in her pack, and had been disappointed by the lack of beauty products.

In the mean time, she'd had a lot of time to think about her predicament. In a worst case scenario she'd be forced to kill all her friends, only to be killed by the victor. In a best case scenario, she'd sit back while everypony killed each other, and would only have to kill the runner-up to win. In reality, neither of those were even remotely likely, but Rarity could dream couldn't she?

Her fellow victims on the island only made it worse. She was with all her friends, which was both good and bad (provided she even found them). But she was also stuck with that bitch, Trixie (mare #8). Of all the ponies on the island, Trixie was the only one Rarity could imagine actually participating in the game, and the only one she would be willing to kill. The only hope that kept the game from being taken over by supreme mediocrity was Twilight Sparkle. If she could stop Trixie before too much of her ego polluted the nearby Snips and Snails, then she will have saved the rest of them from the complete and utter stupidity that dominated her pathetic fan-base.

In truth, Rarity couldn't see Twilight pulling off anything of the sort. Why, she would be quite astonished if Twilight lived out the night. Speaking of night, what time was it anyway? It could be close to dawn. It could be no later than eight. It could be night forever. Nighttime forever. Now that's an astonishing thought, isn't it? If Princess Celestia was behind all this, then couldn't she keep the sun from rising? It would be awfully fitting for a game like this.

Rarity cursed at herself. She couldn't believe she was thinking such thoughts. This was it. The hysteria. The civilized lady was loosing it. Her hours were numbered. She could feel it. Every second was but one more second stolen away from her dwindling existence. She was on a precipice. The edge of oblivion. Dangling on the edge of a cliff, with Discord himself chipping away at her very last hoof-hold.

Rarity screamed, and cursed once more. It was impossible to fix her mane without a brush. Especially in this rotting shit-hole of a cottage.

Fluttershy missed. By only a few feet, and from a distance of over a thousand feet away, but she still missed none the less. Smoke rose from the tip of the gun, a signature of the round that had just pierced though space-time itself.

It was a rather uncomfortable jolting feeling that Fluttershy had experienced. Like an unwilling forest creature was trying to escape her embrace. Not to mention the sound, which was deafening.

"Well look at that," said Discord disapprovingly, "I guess you're not as much of a natural as I thought."

"I'm sorry, Discord," Fluttershy apologized, "It's just that I'm new at this and all, and well, um, I just got really nervous."

"Well I apologize for taking you out of your comfort zone," Discord said, turning his back and crossing his arms like a disgruntled teacher,"if you want to do this your way, you can. But, if you want to show me you mean business then you know what to do." He then clicked his heals together and vanished in a theatrical poof of smoke. He had left Fluttershy where she was, the nearby woods still reeking with irony.

Fluttershy was once again alone in the woods. And she was quite beside herself. Had she just shot at Rarity? Fluttershy was certainly a not fan of this "survival" business. Her friends were the best things to ever happen to her, and she was shocked to think that she would even consider killing them.

But alas, Discord was her friend. The other ponies didn't like him but Fluttershy saw something they didn't. She knew that if she didn't trust Discord, nopony would.

One hour had passed since Twilight left the school. After walking down the road for a while she began to approach the small town on the northern end of the island. She was going to look around but she heard voices coming from the market. From her vantage point behind some bushes, it sounded as though there was a heated discussion coming from one of the shops. She'd recognized Filthy Rich's voice, but had fled before she could hear the other pony speak.

Twilight was currently sitting against a tree, no more than one thousand feet from the town, wondering what to do next. She knew not when the sun would rise but it couldn't be forever. Could it?

"...you can inform the Princess we’ll be starting soon.”

The thought made her shudder. Princess Celestia was the only one with enough power to enforce such a game. And enough power to move the sun itself. She could lay all of Equestria's crops to waste in eternal darkness, and keep the sun shining for weeks in Canterlot. Luna could do what she wanted, but there was no way to end the night when she couldn't raise the sun. Just another rumor coined up by the commoners of Equestria. Just like the Pony Royale.

Twilight was close to tears. She thought she knew Celestia more than anypony, but it was becoming clear that this wasn't the case.

Then it occurred to her that she should check her pack. She unzipped it, and began removing its contents one by one. A map, a flashlight, a loaf of bread, a bottle of water, and a gun. It was a short one, and could fit in just one hoof. The manual beneath it was entitled "Glock 19". Twilight picked it up. It was heavier than she'd expected. Like it was trying to pull itself into the ground. Like it didn't want to be here on the island with her.

She put the items back into her pack, and once again found herself with nothing to do. She was waiting for a sunrise. Or hoping for one.

Suddenly, Twilight heard somepony approaching from behind. She scrambled around the tree, and fired the gun twice into the bushes. BANG! BANG! It was astonishingly loud. She stopped and listened. Her ears were ringing, but she could hear more rustling, this time in retreat.

She rotated in a full circle. The reality of the situation had once again hit her. She was exhausted. She lowered her gun, and put it on the ground next to her. Nopony would come back after that narrow of an escape.

Twilight sat back down, panting. She couldn't keep doing this. The conductor on the train, the stallion in the classroom, the guns, Caramel's strange behavior. It was all too much for her to handle. But she had to come up with a plan if she wanted to survive. She had to use that well-oiled machine in her head, and find a solution to all this. There had to be a way. There was always a way.

But this wasn't like before. This time there were no Elements of Harmony to fall back to. No Harmony at all. No friends, and none of its magic. It was like missing a leg. Twilight felt incomplete without her friends at her side.

There it was again! She wasn't ready this time, and she spun around to see Snips (stallion #5), wielding a long, menacing knife. He lunged at her, wearing a dazed look that only Snips or Snails (stallion #7) would have. Twilight caught his hoof mid-flight, and he slammed into her. They both fell to the ground, and began a brutal fight over the knife in Snips' hoof. They rolled once, and Snips was on top of her, pressing all of his body-weight into his right hoof, and forcing the knife ever closer to Twilight's neck.

The gun. Too late. The Glock was at least five feet away from the two of them. If only Twilight could get to it somehow.

Twilight grunted as she gave one last heave, pushing Snips off her with all her might. She rolled, and dove madly for the Glock. And fell short. This fatal error gave Snips enough time to react, and to get those faulty neurons firing. He was on his hooves in less than half a second, and in even less time had dropped the knife, and reached the gun. He turned and pointed the gun at her.

Twilight froze. Or rather, time froze and Twilight didn't. There she was, five feet away from a mentally unstable Snips with a gun leveled at her face. And there was the knife, only two feet away from Twilight. But Snips was milliseconds away from discharging a metal dart into her face. Twilight thought hard. Her neurons fired faster than Snips'.

It was the one thing Twilight could do faster than the pull of a trigger. Magic. She scooped up the knife in an imaginary slingshot, and unleashed it at Snips with all the force she could muster. The move was reminiscent of the stunt the unicorn back in the classroom had pulled on Pinkie Pie.

Snips fell back instantly, his eyes wide with shock. He discharged several rounds into the air, refusing to give up. Twilight had hit him in the chest, penetrating his heart. He coughed, blood sprouting from his mouth up into the air, only to land back in his face. Twilight had won, but only a small battle.

She staggered, and finally collapsed on the ground. She was shaking. What had she just done? It can't have been much more than an hour since she started, but in that time the amount of deaths she needed to mourn had gone from none to three. This was somehow Discord's work. She was sure of it.

Fluttershy had been so convinced of Discord's reform, but Twilight never grew any less suspicious of him. And she never was going to. Discord had single-handedly picked apart Twilight's friends, and turned them on each other. That bastard. Reform was certainly not an option when it came to the god of chaos.

She heard moving in the trees again. Why won't he just die already?

But it wasn't Snips who was making the noise. He lay there, dead as a doorknob, with the knife protruding from his chest and her gun at rest in his right hoof.

But there was still somepony there. Twilight looked up barely in time to see a grief-stricken Flam aiming a gun at her. His was similar to Twilight's, but it had a second grip along the barrel, and what appeared to be the ammunition clip protruded out the bottom of the first.

She immediately rolled, but Flam was already firing. It let out three consecutive bangs before it stopped, none of which came close to Twilight. It appeared to her that Flam was just as surprised about the gun's capabilities as she was.

Twilight scrambled behind a tree and Flam fired again. This time it was more accurate, and she could hear two of the bullets eat their way into the tree's bark. She then recalled something she had said when she first came to Ponyville. What was it? "All the ponies in this town are crazy!" She'd never felt so right in her life.

Twilight was running out of options. She was once more unarmed, and now Flam was unloading bullets at her like a madpony. She was cornered. She had wasted her hour upon the stage, and now the curtains were closing. She was going to die.

BAM!

The noise was riveting. It had the force of a small explosion. It was a small explosion. Twilight stole a glance around the tree and immediately wished she hadn't. Flam was on his side, lying in a small but rapidly growing puddle of blood, the source of which came from his right foreleg, which looked as though it had been mauled by a tiger. He snatched his gun from his useless right foreleg up into his left foreleg.

"Put the gun down," said a figure from a dense outcropping of trees.

Flam made no effort to do so, and wildly squirmed to point the gun at the pony in the shadows.

BAM!

This time it was his face that was torn apart in a shower of blood. He made no effort to get back up again.

And out from the shadows stepped Caramel (stallion #8). He wasted no time as he retrieved the guns from Snips' and Flam's bodies. After that he quickly emptied the contents of their packs into his. He turned to leave, then stopped.

"Hey Twilight," he said. Twilight froze. She'd hoped that she could remain behind the tree undetected, "come with me if you want to live."

Surprisingly enough, there wasn't much to do around an old rotting cottage, so after she got tired of trying to repair her physical appearance, Rarity decided to investigate the nearby forest. It was not surprising that there was not much to do out there either. But she needed something to keep from loosing it.

She knew it was a foolish idea to go wandering about in the forest under such circumstances, but at least she had the sense to bring along her pack. If she found trouble, she could just use the box-like gun she found in there. She had glanced at the manual. It said the gun was called "P90 Sub-machine gun" or something. It was much to heavy to hold, so she had to keep it in the pack.

Taking time to view the scenery, Rarity was able to fully appreciate the filthiness of the forest. The trees were so old, they had a green foamy substance stuck to their trunks. The ground was littered with damp leaves and brown pine-needles that crunched when you stepped on them. The terrain was rocky and unstable underneath the pine-needles, making Rarity trip and fall far too much.

BANG! BANG!

She jumped at the sound. No need to worry, right? They were far enough away, right? Rarity calmed herself. This place was a war-zone. Anypony unlucky enough to meet another pony would have a battle on their hands.

She waited a few more seconds. That seemed to be the end of it. Rarity told herself that she mustn't go back to the cottage. It was far too much a risk.

BAM!

Rarity froze. This time it was louder. A different gun maybe.

BAM!

Whatever it was, it ended the fight right there. No more gunshots sounded.

Then, when it seemed as though the forest couldn't get any worst, a crack of thunder rang out across the island, signalling the onset of a massive downpour.

The rain didn't take the time to even build up, it just fell from the sky and slapped down onto the forest below. Rarity cried out in anguish as her mane was once again subjected to the assault of the elements. It slowly unfurled itself, and came to rest drooping down at her hooves. Ruined two times over.

That's it. Enough. Time to go back to that pathetic turd of a cottage and make due there. She turned on her heals, and trudged back towards the clearing. It wasn't that hard to find, she'd only wandered a few hundred feet from the cottage.

But then, somepony came out of the cottage, her cottage. And not just anypony. Trixie. Rarity froze. She shouldn't have gone back to the cottage. She should have toughed it out in the woods like everypony else.

But to her surprise, Trixie broke down in tears and rushed towards her.

"Thank Celestia!" she screamed, "I'm so glad I found somepony."

"Well, um," Rarity was dumbfounded, "me too."

They galloped towards each other, meeting in the center of the now muddy clearing.

"I got so scared when I heard those gunshots, do you think somepony died?"

"I hope not," Rarity lied. She knew what this bitch was up to.

"We can find a way out of this together," said Trixie, going in for a hug. And Rarity went in too, watching Trixie's right hoof go behind her back. Gotcha.

When Trixie lashed out her weapon, Rarity was ready. She kicked Trixies hoof as hard as she could sending a long scythe flying across the clearing and landing at the foot of the trees.

Rarity screamed and tackled Trixie, landing in the mud. Trixie rolled on top of Rarity, and planted her hooves in Rarity's face, shoving it into the mud. Rarity choked and spat mud back into Trixie's face. She then heaved Trixie off her chest, and dashed for the scythe.

She didn't make it far when Trixie leaped upon her hind leg and she collapsed, face first, back into the sludge. She rolled back around, and began kicking Trixie in the face. She shoved and pried and, after thoroughly bloodying Trixie's complexion, she finally gave in. Rarity was once again on course to the scythe, with little ground in her way.

Then, suddenly she felt another opposing force, this time around her waist. She couldn't overcome it, and was once again dragged backward through the mud. Trixie was using magic to keep her from reaching the scythe. Rarity slid back up along side Trixie, and was kneed in the stomach.

The pain was shocking, and Rarity vomited into the mud. She shrieked, and kicked Trixie back in the face again, making her spit up blood once more. Rarity, having stunned Trixie more than she had stunned her, leaped back upon Trixie and resumed pummeling her face with her front hooves.

Rarity was winning, and had almost won. If she thought her condition was bad before, she was wrong. She'd gladly live out her life her life in that state, if only it were guaranteed that she would never feel the way she did now. But it wasn't over yet.

Trixie squirmed and squirmed, and when her squirming was finished, she had pried both of Rarity's front hooves away from her face. Trixie needed to be decisive and quick if she was going to get out of this jam. As a last resort, Trixie arched her head forward, and forced her horn into Rarity's stomach. She pushed so hard it came out the other side. Her face was up against Rarity's midsection, and blood dripped into her mouth and nose.

After about a minute, Rarity stopped struggling and finally collapsed on top of Trixie, covered in mud and blood.

Twilight and Caramel both collapsed against a tree, panting.

"That should do it," said Caramel, gazing over at Twilight.

"What were we running from?" asked Twilight, looking up at the falling rain.

"Nopony in particular. Gunshots attract others."

"Oh," Twilight said, rather matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. As if she ran from gunshots every day.

"Get some sleep," Caramel said, "but first, wash your face with the rain. You're still covered in Flim's blood."

11 ponies remaining.

Author's Note

Well, there you have it. Part one. I should have Part Two up soon-ish (two weeks time, maybe). But be warned, Part Two is when the shit really hits the fan, and it doesn't stop spattering til the very end.