Dirty Deeds Done at a Very High Cost
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FOE Wild Wasteland Side Stories

Dirty Deeds Done at a Very High Cost

FOE: Wild Wasteland: Dirty Deeds Done at a Very High Cost

"You are providing a service and we are providing payment. It is there our questions end. Understand?"

(6_9)...

When life is already Hell, where do the wicked go when they die?

And when one's wickedness ends another's time in such a Hell,

Is it truly a wicked ac-

"Hiya, Rookie!" Joy Buzzer shouted in my ear, making my quill skid halfway down the page. I'd learned not to hold such outbursts against him: it wasn't his fault his voice's only settings were 'silent' and 'top of his lungs.' I mean that literally, he was a cyberpony with a faulty voice modulator. Anything he said came out as some kind of 'joyful screaming,' in stark contrast to the sterile white of both his cybernetic and pony parts. His voice did, however, fit his cutie mark: sparking black and red wires arranged in the shape of a heart. He was just the kind of eccentric weirdo that the Littlehorn Bounty Hunting Association attracted. "What are you up to, my eagle-headed, lion-tushied friend? Although you are black... crow-headed, panther-tushied maybe?"

"Just call me 'Rook' please, I've been in the Association for four years now, and the nickname has lost half the joke. And I'm not doing anything significant in the grand scheme of things: merely attempting to alleviate the guilt on my sin-laden conscience through prose poetry."

"Wow... That sounds boring as hell. Well, actually, Hell probably isn't all that boring. Painful, sure, but not boring. I know if I ran Hell I'd do funny ironic punishments all the time! Well, you keep doing your emo word stuff. As for me, I'm going after this guy!" He held up a wanted poster of some pony in that Legion gang. Officially, we weren't supposed to take wanted posters off the bulletin board. Unofficially, they were replaced daily anyway and taking them down guaranteed that no one else found the target first, rules be damned. As long as we got the job done the Association higher ups didn't care anyway.

"I see. I came to take a job as well, but I was struck with poetic inspiration, so I tried to get it upon paper before the words escaped like precious life's blood from an open wound..." I opted to leave out the part where he completely ruined my train of thought. "So, were they offering any interesting prey?"

"Meh, same as usual for the most part. I got the last cool, gimmicky target. He's wearing a Hellhound pelt and even fights with a pair of severed Hellhound claws! They're giving 4,000 caps for him! However, I did notice one target that would be a lot easier for someone with wings. I snatched it up for ya before another griffon got to it." He handed another poster to me. "Don't say I never helped you out." He gave me a hug (a common habit of his, though people rarely felt comfortable under his cybernetic kung-fu grip), winked at me with his one organic eye, and trotted off.

I shrugged and left, looking over the poster as I did so. It had an artist's rendering of a mare named Angel Smile with a pink coat and blond mane. Pink and yellow... such colors spread so much delight to their viewers, yet the sheer visibility ensures a short life to those cursed to wear them. As if that alone didn't make her stick out in a crowd, the poster also said she was a Pegasus, specifically a Dashite. With her wings and brands, a mistaken identity was impossible. The ones posting the bounty were the Grand Pegasus Enclave, and they offered 15,000 caps for-

Wait, 15,000 caps!? That was five times the average bounty!

I looked back and made sure I read that right. Sure enough, there was one one, one five, and three zeros. Simply amazing! Then again, it was an Enclave bounty, and those were usually on the high side. After all, when those cowards actually found reason to get involved below the clouds, they went all out to get the job done, and the Littlehorn Association was their go-to assassins.

I went back to scanning the poster for info. The only remaining thing was a possible town the Association had traced her to, a town called 'Manson Carnal.'

The poster didn't say exactly what the client wanted her dead for, but the Association never asks about such things. Even if a client does offer a reason for the bounty, nopony cares. I'd seen posters with crimes ranging from 'killed my father' to 'looked at me the wrong way.' At least twice I'd seen a poster that said 'I just feel like making this guy die. Do it nice and slow.'

Of course, I prefer not to take such jobs. Taking a life was tragic enough without malice. Nonetheless, the world runs on money, not pity, a truth that Angel Smile was about to have to learn in a most regrettable fashion.

*** *** ***

Why does this word seem to laugh,

As it watches us die?

Perhaps it's used up all its tears

And nevermore can cry.

I wrote that poem at least four years ago. All of a sudden it came back to me when I saw the gaudy visage of Manson Carnal. Clowns, carnival games, attractions in circuslike tents; even through the Wasteland grime, the nature of the place was apparent. I noticed that it followed the naming scheme of simply adopting the name on a broken sign, one that had once read "Maneston Carnival." The residents had taken full advantage of their home's history, refurbishing most of the facilities back to working order. A few things of course, had been changed. The stuffed toy prizes had been replaced with more practical things like food or weapons. A few distinctly 'Wasteland' attractions had been added as well, such as an animal fighting pit, a grenade target practice game, and even an arena where patrons could spar while others bet on them. It would have been deplorable pre-war, but by wasteland standards it was downright festive.

The one thing that caught my attention though, was a giant roller coaster. Naturally, it was rusted to the point of being unrideable, but a banner had been draped across it advertising the 'World Famous Freak Show' located at the coaster's base. I supposed that Angel Smile probably wouldn't be above showing off her exotic wings for a few easy caps...

*** *** ***

Obliteration

Incineration

Degradation

Mutation

Radiation!

That was a piece from my minimalist period. I regret it deeply. However, it perfectly set the tone for the freak show, at least the mutation bit. Most of the freaks were afflicted with birth defects or other disfigurations due to living in radioactive environments. These weren't typical mutants though, they were those rare mutants that end up being otherwise healthy: a six legged mare, a unicorn with at least twelve horns, a filly with only a single eye in the middle of her head, to name a few. The few who weren't mutated were odd in other ways. One pony was covered in so many piercings that there was no bare fur visible on their body, just an armor of rings. Another was double jointed and could bend over all the way backwards. There was even a normal Canterlot ghoul who got by solely on the rarity of his kind, demonstrating his healing power by letting himself get shot over and over.

I didn't pay much attention to any of them. They were creatures of frivolity and fun, I was one of dark and violence. I had no business with them aside from seeing if Angel Smile was in their number. Alas, from what I saw, she wasn't.

"Hey, you looking for something?" I heard someone ask. "Usually a tough looking guy like you would have asked to take a shot at the Canterlot ghoul, or at least ogled the Minotaur lady with two udders, but you've barely given anypony here a second glance." I turned around to see one of the freaks, a hippogriff. Like the Canterlot ghoul, his 'freakishness' came from his rarity. Hippogriffs were the result of ponies and griffons cross-breeding, resembling griffons with pony hindquarters instead of those of a lion. However, not only was such breeding rarely fruitful, but those few hippogriffs who were successfully born tended to have horrible genetic defects. This particular hippogriff clearly had some kind of muscle disorder: he was so skinny he was almost skeletal. Some of his plumage, along with his pony half was light blue. His bony flank showed a cutie mark of a winged hoof against a cloud backdrop. His eyes and voice betrayed a veiled but deep sadness as he smiled for the crowds.

"Yes, I am. Have you perhaps seen a pink Pegasus here?"

"Oh, Angel? Yeah, she's here, but she's not in the freak show. I get my break in about half an hour. I'll show you to her then."

"Very well. Thank you, young hippogriff."

"The name's Hermes, and you're welcome."

*** *** ***

I killed that chem dealer to buy food that week.

I killed that caravan guard to rent a place to sleep.

I killed that settlement's mayor to afford medical treatment.

I kill others to live.

Yet the only one I want dead is me.

That kind of poem had been becoming more and more common in my work recently. I know it's dark, but the fact is, it's true. Most of the other Association members thought my 'emo' behavior was just a quirk, like Joy Buzzer's excessive peppiness, but even if it had been at first, spending so long surviving as a shameless predator had taken its toll on my soul. After every kill, I tended to go out and drink. Lots of bounty hunters do that to celebrate another successful job, but I think I'm the only one who does it to dull the regret. I know that sooner or later I'll do it and not wake up the next day. Last time, I got the strangest, strongest feeling telling me 'this will be the night.' It didn't slow me down at all. Now I didn't plan on deliberately killing myself, but I'd reached the point where I felt my own life could be lost as casually as one of my victims'. Whether I was killed by a victim fighting back or through my own negligent behavior was irrelevant; I knew death was coming for me and I wouldn't resist when it did. I'd seen that we were all just dust. No, not dust, but firewood. Dust is merely insignificant and useless. Firewood would kill to be useless, rather than fulfill its purpose of being burned, immolated to fuel the Wasteland's chaos.

Since leaving the freak show, I'd been waiting outside for Hermes, writing poetry. I started doing an acrostic of the word 'SUICIDE,' writing the word sideways down the page. The second I tried to start the first line though, I was interrupted by a certain hippogriff peeping over my shoulder.

"Suicide? Sorry to pry, but... what's up with that?" Hermes asked.

"It's nothing. I simply enjoy sad poetry," I said, understating things a bit. "This dismal world doesn't inspire many other kinds."

"Well, okay, I suppose. Still, you look kinda down. Anything you want to talk about before I show you to Angel Smile? She won't be going anywhere."

"Again, it's nothing. I just... rather dislike my job."

"Ah. Well, at least you're not being gawked at like a monster all day, on top of death hanging over you your whole life." He sighed "With nothing you can do to fight it..."

"For all your sympathy, you sound like you're the one needing to talk about something."

He gave a light chuckle, but looked sadder than ever. "Sorry. It's been a long day. It's just that... my whole life is wrong. I have a disease that basically cuts my lifespan in half, and that's assuming I get weekly doses of that steroid chem, Buck, to slow it down. The pony who runs this place, Three Rings, he took me in and tries to get me all the Buck he can, but sometimes it gets hard to come by and we risk running out. I owe him my life, so I work in the freak show for him. It's not because he makes me, but I know that if I can't at least give that to him, I'd be useless, and I'd hate that even more. I mean, sure some of the freaks are cool with finding a way to use their weirdness for profit. Hell, the two uddered Minotaur loves the attention. But for me it's just a reminder of the reason I'm going to die..." he shivered.

I felt rather awkward about the whole thing, but nonetheless he touched my heart. I wrapped a wing around him. "I'm sorry," was all I could say. I wasn't good at reassurance.

"No, no, it's nothing you need to concern yourself with. Unless you have some Buck you're willing to sell me, it's nothing you need to worry about. Anyway, like I said, if you wanted to talk about anything, I'm ready to listen, 'specially since I vented my problems all over you. Then I can take you to Angel."

"I think I'm fine. Just show me to her," I said. The last thing I wanted to do was tell him of my morbid duties, especially regarding Angel Smile.

He nodded and led me toward Manson Carnal's residential area.

*** *** ***

Fullness gives way to hunger.

Freedom gives way to safety and need.

The sky gives way to Enclave clouds.

Dreams give way to reality.

Beauty gives way to tarnish.

Peace gives way to others.

Life gives way to death.

Joy gives way to all.

Angel Smile lived in a small shack, far off from the carnival, and nice and far from the closest other residence as well. I couldn't have chosen a better location. Hermes knocked on the door. "Angel? You in there? Someone's here, looking for you."

"Who?" she responded, without opening the door. Her voice was much more high pitched than I imagined.

"It's a griffon named..." he turned back to me, "what did you say your name was?""

"I didn't say, but it's Rook," I figured there was no harm in letting him know at least that, but I realized that sooner or later I'd have to get him to leave Angel Smile and I alone. I tried to avoid killing more ponies than I needed to, and I especially didn't like the idea of having to cut through this poor wretch to get to my prey, not that it'd be much of a deviation from his luck so far.

"His name is Rook," he called to her.

She still didn't open up. "What does he want?"

I approached the door and answered for myself. "I have a message for you. It's a very private matter. May I come in?"

"I... I guess so." She said nervously as she opened the door. My eyes widened when I saw her.

When Hermes had called her a 'girl,' he wasn't kidding. She was a filly, no more than twelve, most likely younger. She was standing at an angle that let me see her flank, which bore a lightning bolt scar, destroying her cutie mark, assuming she'd ever had one in the first place. Just what the hell could she have even done to warrant that, let alone a 15,000 cap bounty? There must have been something though, so maybe I could ask first. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd conversed with a target before the kill. Some viewed it as bad practice, but it sated any curiosities I had and also kept victims in a false sense of security.

"Hermes, could you leave us?" I requested.

"Alright. I'll talk to you later, Angel!" he said to the filly before turning around and leaving.

Angel Smile led me back inside the shack. There was just enough room for both of us inside, and her only furniture was a bed, which she trotted to and sat down on. "So, what's the message about?" she asked.

"I'm actually not here to deliver a message, sorry. In fact, I wanted to ask you some questions."

She gave me a dirty look. "Why'd you lie about it then?"

"It's important that Hermes doesn't know. I can explain more, later. Now tell me, where did you get those brands on your flanks?"

"The Enclave gave them to me, because they thought my dad was a traitor, and I stood up for him. So they branded me and made me come down here. I don't know what they did to my mom and dad..." she looked sad, but didn't cry. I think she'd already cried about it more than enough before, and was starting to cope with it.

"Those brands are meant for traitors. Why didn't they send your parents here too?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's because they were scientists and they still wanted them or something."

I frowned. There was no doubt in my mind that they were dead. I was no expert on the Enclave, but the Association has a history of dealing with their Dashites for them, so our veteran hunters occasionally pick up bits and pieces of how they ran things. Most Dashites are soldiers or citizens, but scientists and politicians who know too much when they go Dashite are secretly executed instead of exiled, in order to protect the information they held. Another thing about the Enclave was that they could be very fickle, something to do with their convoluted internal politics. Sometimes they would banish a Dashite like normal, but then someone higher up the chain would decide that they knew too much and were better off dead. That's where the Association comes in. "I see. Did your parents ever tell you any secrets about the Enclave?"

"No way. My dad always said that if you have to pick between being shot in the head and learning something the Enclave wants to hide, it's safer to be shot in the head."

I just nodded. She was completely innocent, but the Enclave wanted her dead just on the off chance that her parents not only told her a vital Enclave secret, but that this little girl completely understood it and would tell it to somepony else that somehow could use it against the Enclave. I fucking hated some of my clients. "Angel Smile, I-"

"Just call me Angel," she interrupted. "It's shorter, and it's what all my friends call me."

"Alright then... Angel. This is very important: I need you to close your eyes for just a minute or two. Don't open them until I tell you to, promise?"

She gave me an odd look. "Okay, why?"

"It's a surprise," I hoped that would work.

Finally, she shrugged and closed her eyes. Now all I had left was the kill. I drew one of my knives, my signature weapons, and prepared for a single stab at her throat. Silent, instantaneous, and simple.

Then, just like the child she was, she peeked. She saw the knife immediately, and started screaming at the top of her lungs. The door burst open and Hermes darted in. He must have come back at some point and started eavesdropping.

Just how is it that a contract killer is the most well-mannered being in the room?

He jumped in between me and Angel. "What the fuck are you doing!?" Hopefully nobody else was close enough to hear us.

"I'm sorry, it's just business," I sputtered, knowing exactly how stupidly trite that excuse was.

"Well if this is your business, I can see why you said you hate it so much! I'm not letting you hurt her, so just go away!" It was obvious that he knew he had nothing to really use on me, but damned if he wasn't putting on a brave face.

"You know I can kill you both as easily as just her."

"Well then do it! Or even better, go act on that poem you were writing, you sick fuck!"

That affected me more than I felt it should have. I didn't realized it, but I must have winced or flinched or something. However I telegraphed it, he picked up on how deep he'd struck.

"Y-yeah, you're a hitman or something, right? But you hate doing it. You hate it as much as I hate being sick, and probably as much as Angel hates what the Enclave did to her. But look at you, you've got a perfectly functioning body and I don't see a slave collar on you! Me and Angel got forced into shit lives, but you could at least try and find something better any time you wanted, couldn't you? Tell me, couldn't you?"

"This is all I have."

"Then get more!"

I didn't respond.

"Still hesitating? That's proof that I'm on to something, am I right? So this is your chance to make things better for yourself. This is your chance to be happy."

"Nothing in this world is happy." I almost attacked, but he spoke up again.

"I am."

"But you-"

"Yeah, I know my life sucks. I probably got some of the worst luck in the wasteland! But I feel plenty of other things between the sadness. Three Rings is the nicest pony I've ever known, and I feel more at home in Manson Carnal than I have anywhere else! Angel loves everypony around here, and everypony loves her! I don't know what your life is like, but if you think something that makes you miserable is the best choice you have, it's because you're not trying to find anything else!"

He stared directly into my eyes, and it took everything I had not to shy away. As utterly feeble as he was, he had me completely emotionally cornered.

I sheathed my knife and walked to the door. Hermes's mouth dropped in shock at his luck, and Angel Smile, who was cowering behind him the whole time, finally peeked out, staring cautiously at me. "I don't know what I want anymore," I confessed. "Angel, you should know that the Enclave wants you dead, and they're offering a lot of caps to whoever's heartless enough to do it. Someday soon, another bounty hunter will come for you. You should leave here as soon as possible."

"But I like it here!" she said.

"I'm just telling you the straight truth. Don't let me have spared you for naught." I walked out and started to take flight.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Hermes, yelled, running out and flying after me. I intended to ignore him, but to my surprise, he was not only able to catch up to me, but when I tried to evade him, he just kept on me. When he actually flew in front of me, I realized why: his wings were relatively huge compared to his thin body. One flap from him probably pushed him twice as far one of mine could for me. "You still have a lot that I want you to answer for!"

I drew a knife again and pointed it at him. "I don't want to hurt you, but I want even more to be alone right now. I've killed enough people to fill this town thrice over, so for your own sake don't push your luck."

He looked at the knife, then backed off. He had too little to gain now that Angel Smile was safe.

I kept on flying, my mind overflowing with thoughts I had no idea how to process.

*** *** ***

As my blade runs across his throat,

I picture myself in his place.

As my blade enters her heart,

I picture her as my contractor.

As my blades rage against the flesh of all before me,

I picture a world where my blades aren't needed.

I spent the next few hours dividing my time between writing poetry like that and aimlessly flying about the area, the way a ground dweller might pace. I kept a reasonable distance from Manson Carnal, since I was positive that Hermes warned Three Rings about me by now. Meanwhile, the raw emotion of my encounter with Angel Smile and Hermes was the most inspirational poem fuel I'd ever had. Between writing and sheer stir-craziness, I barely noticed as the day faded to night. Even then, rather than finding someplace to sleep, I opted to go into Manson Carnal, which was now vacant aside from a couple of night watchmen. They were minimally armed, and looked like amateurs, so I figured that even on the off chance my stealth skills weren't enough to evade them, I could simply fly away. A carnival at nighttime was a rare opportunity in the wastes. Perhaps the sights would be inspirational?

I quickly found out that I was right about the inspiration. I found the cages where they kept the fighting beasts, and the thought of the way these monsters were trapped was a poetic gold mine. The words gushed from my quill, and I became lost in the poetry.

"Hey, what are you still doing here?" Hermes's voice came from behind me. I turned to see him there glaring at me, with Angel Smile hiding underneath him.

"I was just writing poetry, and this place is great for inspiration. I've given up on killing Angel Smile, in case you're still worried. What about the two of you, isn't it late to be out here?"

"I like to feed the animals sometimes," said Angel Smile. "I figured since I have to leave soon, I should do all my favorite stuff one more time..." She looked at her hooves.

"I see. I should leave then, you probably don't want me around." I got up to leave, but I froze when I saw something in the distance behind Hermes: a white, half metal stallion peeking from behind a game booth. "Joy Buzzer? What are you doing here?" Hermes and Angel Smile whirled around to see as well.

Joy Buzzer stepped out, looking slightly disappointed. He had a Gauss rifle strapped to his back. "Aww, you caught me. Stupid eagle eyes." His face snapped back to a smile. "Anyway, as for what I'm doing here, I came to find out what you were doing here. The tracker I put on you said that you'd been zippin' around here all day. It doesn't take that long to find one Pegasus, or even to ask somepony where she went if she moved."

"Tracker?" I remembered the hug he'd given me before I left. I reached over my shoulder and felt around. Sure enough, I was able to rip off a tiny stickerlike device from the back of my armor. "Why?"

"Well, duh! I wanted to ambush you and snipe you out of the sky once you killed Angel Smile, then take her proof of death off your body to claim the bounty myself. You really think I'd just give you a 15,000 cap bounty?"

The notion disgusted me as much as the Enclave putting a hit on a filly did. The Littlehorn Association wasn't known for their moral standards, but if we had one rule, it was to never harm each other. "How could you? Moments before you gave me that poster you called me your friend!"

"'How could I?' I literally just explained it! Were you even listening, Rookie?" Now he was the one looking angrily at me. "Lemme spell it out again. Put a tracker on a hunter, follow them, kill them, take the-"

Angel Smile and Hermes took the opportunity to make a run for it. Two small gun barrels popped out of Joy Buzzer's sides, like a mini battle saddle, and fired a couple shots at them. One of the bullets hit Angel Smile square in the joint of her wing, downing her for a long while, if not the rest of her life. Hermes could have escaped, but when he heard her screams he immediately descended to her side.

"Don't fly away while I'm talking! It's rude!" Joy Buzzer yelled. "You know what? Forget it. It's all a bust now, so I'll just kill her myself. I expected Angel Smile to be some Dashite badass that I would need wings to even keep up with, but since I grounded her there's no way that'll be an issue!"

"Wait!" I said, stepping forward. "Please, she's just a filly! I'll go out and find twice her bounty for you, just let her go!"

He looked at me completely baffled. "What does her being a filly have to do with anything? Killing a filly is just like killing a really big baby. It's easy! Besides, you're expendable and a witness, plus you yelled at me, so you won't be living long enough to find me anything!" He opened fire, his attacks hitting me square in the chest. My armor absorbed most of the bullets, but it was enough to stun me at least.

The two guards I'd seen before arrived right then, one behind me, the other behind Joy Buzzer. They drew guns and opened fire on Joy Buzzer, him being the more apparent threat, but the metal covering half his body protected him, even if the rest was exposed.

"Oh goody, more fun!" Joy Buzzer squealed. He immediately rushed to the guard closet to him. A buzz saw came out of the side of his foreleg, and with one swing he cut the guard's head clean off. Then he retracted the saw and drew his Gauss rifle, aiming it at the other guard. He only needed to aim for a second before firing. The raw force of the bullet sent the guard tumbling dozens of yards across the ground; his neck snapped, assuming the shot didn't kill him instantly.

"Now, where were we?" Joy Buzzer asked as he turned back to us. He made eye contact just in time to see me shoot him in his cybernetic eye. Knives were my favorite but what fool doesn't carry a gun? "Dammit! Those eyes are expensive!" he shouted as he charged us. He didn't bother shooting; he wanted to do this up close and personal. As he ran, his buzz saw protruded again, this time joined by another one on his other foreleg.

I tried to shoot again, but his mechanical legs made him too quick. He smacked the gun away with one foreleg and cut me with the other. Regardless of what he thought of me before, Hermes recognized that Joy Buzzer was the bigger threat. He flew back a bit, and then used all his speed to tackle the cyber-pony, successfully knocking him off his feet and into one of the animal cages. Joy Buzzer was dented a bit by the impact, but didn't let that stop him. One smack was enough to send the hippogriff to the ground, the buzz saw cutting his cheek open.

Hermes didn't look like he'd get back up. Even his own tackle had probably broken something in his weak body. However, he'd bought more than enough time for Angel Smile to run away a good distance, and for me to get a second wind and get close enough to use my knives. Joy Buzzer barely even saw me coming before I used one knife in each hand to stab him in the non-cybernetic parts of his face and chest. He shoved me away again, growling at the pain. He charged one more time for an attempted finishing blow, too fast for me to block or aim an attack properly.

That's what undid him.

I normally would never have aimed for any of his metal parts, as even though my knives were enchanted for durability and sharpness, my strength alone wouldn't be able to penetrate his armor, but when he attacked, he literally ran into my knife with enough force to drive it in him up to the hilt.

What happened next was something I could never have planned even. I don't know whether it was a fluke or a design flaw in Joy Buzzer's cybernetics, but the knife hit something it shouldn't have. On account of the electricity coursing through me, my guess was that it was a power cell. We were locked together for several seconds, my muscles seizing up while smoke came out of the stab wound and sparks popped within him. When it finally stopped, I fell to the ground, numb. He fell too, in such a way that I could see his organic eye frantically darting around. It was all he could move after the accident.

He wasn't getting back up, and I could feel that I wouldn't either. I knew death was coming for me, and as my eyes closed, I didn't resist.

*** *** ***

I awoke, sore all over. Everything was set up just the way the reaper needed, and he didn't show up. What a jerk.

I was in a bed in what looked like a medical tent. Hermes was awake in another bed, bandaged all over. Angel was standing next to him, but the moment she saw I was awake she darted to me. "Hey, you're awake! Thanks for saving us from that bad cyber-pony! And for changing your mind about hurting me!" I noticed then that her wing was missing. They must have had to amputate it after it was shot the way it was. Poor girl, no creature of the skies should have to go through that. She seemed happy to be alive though. Despite myself, I found the mood infectious.

A unicorn walked into the room. I'd never seen him before, but he had three rings on his flank. Who else could he possibly be? "So, you're the big, scary assassin I've heard so much about," he said.

"Yes. So, what do want to do with me?" I asked

"Well, at first I was gonna shoot you for coming after Angel. But she tells me that you changed your mind and saved her and Hermes from that cyber-psycho, so I suppose you're alright."

"Thank you. What happened to Joy Buzzer, anyway?"

"We assumed he was dead when we arrived. Hours later we realized he was just paralyzed, though starting to slip away. It wasn't worth a bullet at that point: he only lasted another ten minutes. I'll probably have my guys strip out his cybernetics and stick 'em on a manikin. That'll be good for the freak show, I think.

I nodded. It was a fitting fate. I tried rolling out of bed, and found that I was healing up just fine, if a little stiff. "I suppose I should be going soon."

"You're leaving already?" Angel asked.

"You know, saving our plots made up for everything before, we don't mind having you here," added Hermes.

"And if you want a more wholesome job, I could find something for ya, I'm sure," suggested Three Rings.

I was taken aback. I had never in my life actually been wanted someplace. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not sure if I belong here. I will tell you though; I know that I don't belong with the Littlehorn Association anymore. It's time I tried finding something better for myself." I caught Hermes smiling knowingly at me.

"Well, when you leave, can you help me find someplace to live too?" asked Angel. "Or was the cyber-pony the only bad guy left?"

"Sorry, there's a lot more than just me and him. I suppose I should help you find somewhere though." Once again this filly couldn't catch a break. She had lost her family, cutie marks, wing, and now still had to leave her home.

Wait...

"Three Rings! Do you still have her severed wing?"

"Huh? Yeah, we were gonna bury it, but it should still be with the doctor. Why?"

"It's just that I think I should give a farewell gift to the Association, and proof of my last 'kill' would be just perfect."

(6_9)...