Plight of the Pegasi

‘Aliases’

The Pegasi have taken back small pastures of the azure fields. From the smoke walks a hero of our times. She once flew happily through the sky, her only care her reputation. She is now reborn; the revolution her cocoon. A metamorphic change has befallen all of the followers also, they have no thoughts for what tomorrow will bring, only what glory they can die with. She joins her followers in the azure field and raises a hoof to salute. A stallion, her loyal soldier, stops the motion. He admires her greatly, she has been their shepherd after the casualties and losses, and she leads them despite the task at hoof. An immortal being stands on their freedom, on their rights and on one cyan mare’s last nerve.

“I am her no longer. I will not be named this name of a coward. In this war I demand anonymity. For now on you will refer to me as Blinding Fire. I will be the light that guides you all, but I will also be the torch to burn down her kingdom”

“What is wrong with you name?”

“My name stands for complacency and rashness; I will not be respected by these ponies for much longer”

“I don’t quite follow…”

The mare now changed flies affront her troops and gives a gesture meaning for them to follow.

“What now Blinding?”

“Our brothers and sisters not able to fight today still face the threat of homelessness. We will shut down the corporations which govern who have the right to a home. We will bring safety and security back to our elderly and disabled kin of the sky”

“And how shall we shut down this demon?”

“We will find the head of the monster and we will remove it. Remove it by force!”

“And who stands on our right to live safely” The cohort adds.

“Avant Guard!”

The flock are synchronised down to a heartbeat as they career towards PonyVille. It will take some time for them to reach home but their convictions are pure and their hearts purer. They will not abandon the cause. Enroot to the nest they had witnessed and ignored vile displays of prosecution. No more will they turn a blind eye, some break from the flock and aim to thwart the deviants. It is some theatrical joke to make an example of wayward pegasi who do not fall in line. Things like this were bound to happen in the more religiously driven sects of society. As one soldier flies they draw a snub-nose and lay out an executioner for all to see. A rebel mare unsheathes and knife and cuts the ties of tyranny around one of the young Pegasus’s legs. Even in times such as these the mare retained her motherly instincts and sails the youthful Pegasus away to safety. Another stallion from the flock detours downward and breaks down the struts of the apparatus on the stage. He frees the remainder of the captives and sends them on their way. The congregation, once applauding the brutal pantomime now cower. They are inebriates, every one of them. How else could they have lived with themselves in the morning without drinking till they can’t feel feelings anymore? The rich stench of whisky percolates in the air. The lone-wolf snatches a lantern from the wreckage he has made and smashes it down amongst the congregation. A fire rages without a second’s respite. The drunken masses try to gallop from the barbeque of flesh but none can weather the storm. They rasp out their futile last breaths and fall dead. Blinding Fire returns to the wolf and urges him to leave, what could the campaign be worth if they become what they fight? The blemish is left to burn as the two re-join the flock.

I register the amount of Pegasi at my wing. I turn and order some to go and search for more followers, to spread the word and to bring the false promises I tell.

The centuries of Pegasi separate, a beautiful display. It is perfectly choreographed, as if the theatre of the sky were being watched by millions. Not a hoof is put wrong. One hundred or so flyers still race for the pleasant Ville below. They descend on the streets like a meteor shower. The leader, Blinding Fire, pulls ahead as they descend. She randomly darts about the dirt lanes and squares, searching for something. Elsewhere the followers start to put the frighteners on the head of the beast. They take down various tax collectors and hold them at gun and knifepoint. They demand restitution; they break the sacred oaths they are entrusted with. The leader still scours the land for a particular collector. She finds a shy example of a stallion dragging a hoof through the mud.

“You need to get out of here McIntosh”

“I know what’s comin’. I also know you brought it”

“Please! You need to leave now!”

“What purpose can there be for me living to see another day? They’ll find me eventually”

“But Mcin…”

“Enough! Rainbow Dash let me die with some dignity”

Before I can reply one of my brethren cut into the red flank of the earth stallion. The hold in the blade and twist as to cause as much pain as possible. The muzzle of the assailant drips with froth.

“Do it! Do it now, just don’t make me beg!”

“Big Mac, you want to die?”

“I lost everything, don’t make me wait. Let me join them. All my family is dead”

“But…”

“They were all too stubborn; they would not leave their businesses”

“OK can I kill ‘em already?

“Just do it!” he yells, taking the gun from the other’s saddle and placing it flush against his skull.

“Mcinto…”

I am unable to complete my sentence. The gun drops to the ground along with the dead weight of Applejack’s brother. I break down; saving face is not an option.

Blinding Fire stares in disbelief, she goes to close the stallion’s eyes but it is soon apparent that he was prepared for this. She is now the enemy of the state, she will go down fighting or not at all. The flock continue to terrorize the tax collectors. They lay waste to the market stalls as more messages need to be sent. The created monster leaves the kill and returns to his homestead in the sky. At last the effort gleans fruit; the one they seek leaves his rabbit warren and heads for an awaiting chariot. The royal Pegasi guard were still loyal to their Queen. They wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over what they will do next. Blinding Fire must leave her friend, no grave shall be his. She rallies a few others to pursue the fleeing patron of woe. Avant Guard in a normal circumstance would be dressed to the nines, fine suits and pastern-links; the whole kit and caboodle. He is however amidst a revolution now fought for over a year.

My sisters and I make short work of him. We break his legs at the knee and add a tapestry of blue and purple to his pristine complexion. The royals glide down to us, spears at the ready. They have a look of both fear and determination in their eyes.

The rebel lead is pounced upon by a guard and is sent hurtling into the PonyVillian backstreets. They do not just behold swords but guns as well, steam driven killing machines. Lead flies across the market clearing. Both guards and rebels grip tightly to their firearms and hold their ground. With so many supersonic missiles flying and spears clashing against gardening implements, soon members of both sides are added to the death toll. Bones splinter to the pounding of medieval war clubs, rounds of lead plant themselves in skulls of both allegiances. The ever foreboding blight of the singing light above blinds the rebels against the shine of the royal attire. Hooves rise to block out the shine, but hooves have no chance at stopping the tapered points of the royal shells. The royals and the rebels stick to the ground for the sky has not a modicum of cover for them to use. Any who strayed into the azure would be made a corpse before long.

I am at the foot of a hardware store. I seem to remember it in a kinder light but cannot for the life of me recall why. I take a peek through the window; a wood axe sways just inches from where my snout presses against the glass. I kick the front door in and take the axe in my hooves. I see a shadow stalking around the corner. As the glint of his rifle passes the apex I swing the axe up, ready. He turns swiftly around the corner, his sights squared on me. He is a trained soldier and has no trouble countering me. I swing the axe down to meet his mouth until his gold clad hoof parries it away.

A few of the braver patriots attack from the sky, their wings are turned to Swiss cheese by the rebel arms. Some rebels suffer the same hubris and acclimate themselves with the sky blue. The leader is thumped hard in the jaw by a lone patriot. The soul soldier picks the mare up with one hoof, the other dangling at his side.  She plants her hooves on both the wall and the offending gauntlet. The rebels were vastly outgunned, regiments of the royals could be there at beck and call but the rebel numbers were harshly limited. Weapons to fight the royals were only stolen or fabricated, the enemy was equipped handsomely. More and more of the rebel soldiers breathe a last breath in the burning ember light of the eternal day. More flashings of metal ricochet off of the bannisters and wooden crafting about the town, the rebels cling to the cover but bullets drill through the wood as if it were butter. One unfortunate soul hides in the shadow, waiting for a break in the gun fire. His target reloads the weapon, an opportunity like no other. The rebel wraps his head around the cover before his throat is torn through by another plug of lead. There was no question that ponies were full of blood as it spills across the battlefield. Growing desperate, rebels charge at the oppressors, forks and hoes held with violent intent. But low, this war has gone on for far too long. The patriot force is wise to any strategy the rebels employ. They head for a lone stallion guard; he has his sword drawn ready. The unlucky couple’s ‘spears’ are so close that the prongs of the fork are touching the throat of the royal. Unlucky they were, he takes a wing assisted stride backwards and draws a steam propelled sidearm from a special compartment hidden on his thigh. Two clicks of a trigger and two more families to whom the news must be broken.

The stallion has revelled in this torture. He will not offer me death’s sweet kiss and he will not give me freedom. The pressure on my throat is unbearable; I choke out a plea which never comes to be before he finally lets me down. He drops to the side, a pair of ponies, a colt and a filly, leave him for dead. He has a length of chicken wire run through his neck. I take his gold spangled rifle and try to follow the two youthful recruits. They are soon out of my grasp, where could they have gone?

Back in the battlefield, ponies fall to a hail of gunfire and the incision of swords. The rebel alliance is losing any hoof-hold they once had. They cling to the cover as best they can but the introduction of small phosphorous phials renders any cover useless. The fight is not just between the supporters and the naysayers but the petrified onlookers. The young and aged are caught in the crossfire. Supersonic led pellets tear through window panes, tear through walls, and tear families apart. Many a lounge is left with relatives bleeding out on the floor. The rebels needed a miracle, they needed a unicorn. But all who supported the rebel cause were to be subjected to the same fate. A fair distance from the onslaught a sniper lies in her nest. She has waited there since the harbinger of doom of the Pegasi flying over the horizon. The rebel leader again stands amongst her followers. She sprints across a kill zone to a piece of cover. The breaks between the volleys of shots are few and far between. Once the opportune moment casts its ugly head the rebel mare leaves the safety of the cover, she lets fly a clip from the stolen royal rifle.

Time seems to travel in slow motion as I strafe the armies of the Queen. I take out three of the royals before I am forced to take my spot back behind a low brick wall. The metallic shells cascade over my head and hammer down upon the shield I take refuge behind. I rest the gun on top of the wall and fire blindly into the royal forces. A guard approaches, he means to flush me from my hide,   and he looms over the wall and readies his bayonet. My rifle runs dry. I throw it to the side and unclip the two revolvers I have strapped to my sides. He tries to take cover but it only takes me one squeeze to send him down to his judgement. I fall backwards from the kick of the revolver. As I land awkwardly on my back I spot a head checking around cover. I utilise my uncompromised reaction speed and blow a hole through his face.

The revolt has a promising turn for some of the wilier rebels have thieved a great haul of royal weaponry. With odds evened slightly the rebels find a firmer hoof-hold. They fight back, no prisoners are taken. The better flyers of the ranks are tasked with dropping the chemical phials onto the unsuspecting rabble below. This new tactic makes the thinning of the rebel ranks happen much faster for the royals. Blinding Fire takes to her wings, she does not fear grounding, not anymore. She soars over the top of the chaos, her eyes fix on the munitions cart. A thrust of her wings sends her through barrages of anti-air fire. The phials blast the rebels from behind cover to be bestowed a quick death. The leader had made progress through the walls of lead pellets. She nears ever closer to her target. One stallion stands to defend the modest trove of guns and grenades to be had. The rebel, Rainbow no more, slices up through the clouds before flying back a falling comet towards the one guard. She lands with her hooves digging into soil, her rear legs are left to buck the otherwise facing guard. He wobbles before crashing to the ground.

I am so close I can taste the precious metals. I flip the catch on the door out of the way and help myself to the contents. I have only taken a few phials when some unknown force propels me back towards the town. I fight to regain orientation before skidding to halt against a stack of barrels. I shake off the impact and clamber out of the mess. A blinding light stuns me like a deer stuck in the headlights.

The rebels have sussed that the phials explode on contact with anything. They fire at the red packages as they are flung. Elsewhere, Blinding Fire shies away from a unicorn guard. He is covered head to hoof in steel armour. He carries no weapon. The white coated stallion brings the rebel leader towards him at the flash of his horn. He strikes her down with one cold metal hoof before pressing the same hoof on her chest.

“What are you doing Rainbow Dash?”

“Don’t call me th…”

“Are you mad? The Queen will have your head for this”

“She won’t kill me, she enjoys this too much”

The pearl tinged unicorn repels the mare into the wall backing the barrels she had just climbed from. The mare, beaten but not bested gallops to pick up speed before launching at the stallion in flight. She turns her body at the lost conceivable moment and places a kick on his snout. The kick has nearly now effect for the unicorn has caught her with his magic touch. He places her back down.

“Leave”

“You’ll have to kill me first” she defies.

A pillar of light emits from the stallion’s horn. He takes a final sorrowful look at the mare in front of him and arches his back, lowering his head. He fires a superheated stream of magic at Blinding Fire. The mare is too quick; she dodges to the side with a little help from a sideways sweep of her wing. She quick-draws the heavily kicking revolver and fires a shot at the obscuring helmet of the stallion. The magical skill of this unicorn is hard to beat. He snatches the bullet out of mid-air; jus as the point begins to burrow into the crown of his helm. The mare, through slight of hoof, has grasped the other revolver and fires a round off. This projectile too is caught in the arcane trap of the majestic beast. Both bullets hover there, mocking the rebel leader. She leaves the floor below and spears towards the stallion. He releases the frozen bullets and sends them at the befuddled mare. One misses, the other ruptures the cannon of her front leg. She falls back to her hooves and trots with a kind of hobble to greet the stallion. She ducks under a further stream of energy before turning on a coin and smashing the armoured mask off of him. His galvanized hooves cup around Blinding Fire’s back legs and keeps her harnessed there. The mare twists around until his butter hooves loose grip and she brings the nose of the gun up to the chin of the stallion. No, he is not just a stallion.

I look in disbelief; the stallion I mean to kill is my best friend’s brother. He is none other than shining armour. I push the muzzle into the cleft of his jaw.

“Shining? What are you doing?”

“My job”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me who you were?”

“Personal, she says to never make things personal. Make yourself distant…”

“Who says?”

“Our Queen”

“She’s a princess, and she is not my queen!”

“Suffer for your insolence”

The stallion can smell the weakness in her breath, can feel the tremble of the gun, he is under no threat. He stands to overwhelm the mare; he brings the honed tip of his shoe into her diaphragm before whipping his horn across her face. A cut runs from ear to cheek across the mare’s face. She stumbles off, rubbing the fresh wound. The stallion arches his back and prepares another magical beam. He this time lets his back legs slip, he lowers his body to the ground, his horn vibrating from the capacitated energy. All is lost.

The dull racket of the gunfire prattles in my ears. All noise is dull now, for I am soon to die. Accepting the end I close my eyes, my soldiers were busy fighting, my friends were busy rotting in the ground, no hope was there for me. I again am not dead. I dare to peek out my darkest eyelid.

As the mare wallows at the mercy of Shining Armour a Pegasus, second in command to Blinding, lands a forceful kick on his horn. Shining reels back, he clutches at his wounded feature. His suffering is not long lived; Thunder rips into Shining’s neck with the unicorn’s own displaced horn. The bloodied bone bounces off of the dirt a few times before coming to a rest. He turns but not a word is shared, the two have still much to do.

'Cuts too deep to heal'

I had to find the two youths who had saved me. I hate to admit but I need them. My troops need something to aim for, something to give them the spirit to go on. Already so many are fallen, so many will not live to fight at my side. I head back for the backstreets; I navigate the labyrinth of stiffs to where my calling card still lays. The sunken in door marks where the two had found me. With the mighty magic of Shining gone the foes fall with so much less work. The ambience of gunshots dies down and so to must the rival force. I follow where I had seen the young one run to. My nose leads me down a constricting alleyway which in turn leads to a jagged hole in the wall. I step through, trepidation eking my every step. I recognise the duo from the backstreet and show them I mean now harm. They have reservations about me; they canter away into another room. I hear the door “click” lock behind them.

“Hello? Why did you help me?”

“We’re not supposed to talk to strangers”

“Oh not it’s fine. I understand” I comfort, showing them I am a Pegasus.

“It’s too dangerous”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“…” they pause. “… We are not to talk to anypony”

“You’re talking to me aren’t you?”

“Go away!”

I realise I am causing distress and back away from the dorm. They both had looked like earth ponies in the dankly lit corridor, only the precursors of the welts on their back told me we were one in the same. I take my time to leave; worrying thoughts catch up with me. In all the excitement I had lost track of Fluttershy. Was she dead? Had she run away? I feel a sickness rushing over me as I contemplate the mere notion of losing my last remaining friend. I had not seen hide or heel of Rarity either, I assume she skipped town.

I circle the building till I find a dilapidated sign hanging from a wire at the front.

“St Luna’s Orphanage”

One of the windows this side is cracked; there may be enough room for me to gain access. I sheepishly ascend to the opening and gauge my fit by trying to squeeze my bulbous head through. My test is an utter success; I then hook my fore hooves over the panel and pull myself inside. It is dark and there is a smell of urine thick in the air. I dread to imagine how many homeless idle foals this death trap plays host to. I move quietly though each room, hoping not to see too many self-mutilated Pegasi. I enter a room, a classroom of sorts, I adhere to the shadows. I see the two youths I knew and carefully sneak along the cold marble floor towards them.

“Did it hurt when they took your wings away?”

The smaller colt turns, his eyes dead pools of salty tears.

“We had no choice”

“How do you mean?”

“We want friends, Pegasi like us are not taken away”

“Taken away?”

“The slave camps, did you think Soarin made it up?”

“Never”

“Some black markets will pay bits for wings”

“Whut…? What would they want them for?”

“We don’t know. All we know is that we do not want to be in the camps”

I back away and scan the walls; against every one of them quiver more of the brutalised Pegasi. Then I see a young mare hiding beneath a table. She still has her wings.

“How are you doing buddy?”

“Outside… it’s so loud”

“I’m real sorry about that”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, I just wanna talk”

“Talk about what? My dead parents?”

The last few volleys of gunfire caress my ears, then… silence. They’d given up, they had retreated back to the bosom of the Queen, and they had understood the message. The frozen filly is a ticket to the next step of the plan. I leave for now.

I am on my way back to the remnants of my rebels when I am hit by a supersonic parasprite. I have a pet name for the impersonal bullets now, makes them seem friendlier. My breathing becomes rapid and my heart rate slows as I fall limply to the dirt. The blighter has run me through, straight through the connector of my wing. I uselessly stumble towards Thunder whom still pays for his actions. He has not moved at all since I left him. I tap him on the shoulder and he turns to me.

“Do you know where Fluttershy went?”

He gives no answer. I’ve asked so much of him already.

“Did Fluttershy go with another with the other rebels?”

He moves his head slowly up and slowly down. I place my hoof on his withers.

“Remember you are not alone my sky brother. For when you fly, you will always be with me”

I kiss him gently upon the nose before turning to face the music. The location I had sent the other section of my flyers to was Manehatton.

‘Kindness’

Blinding Fire flies alone through the azure field. She is not alone long for more royal pests tend to her bleeding wounds. They appear from thin air, hunger fills their eyes. A spear drives towards the mare’s spine; she beats her wings faster to stay out of harms’ way. She faces another near-death experience as a Griffon Pegasus paladin shoots past, missing her wingtip by a hair’s breadth. The Pegasus wields something a bit more like PonyVille flavour. A crossbow bolt barely grazes the mare’s coup as she evades and flies down to the ocean surface. She skims the briny expanse, fish only just visible deep under the waves. The Griffon mount flies as close as she dares, her talons outstretched, she fishes for the sought mare. She ploughs across the opal surf so to evade the shadow leering overhead.

I partially drag my hooves in the sea as I reach for the phial nestled in my gun-toting saddle. I wait till the Griffon opens wide its beak and leave the phial behind. It catches the payload on the crux of its tongue before squawking in pain and dropping its head into the water. The creature dies, the Pegasus dismounts but he is still yet to reload the crossbow. I draw my revolver and quit my filly games. I cock the barrel to a live shell and let the steaming squeak sound before the stallion drops into the murk along with his pet. I knew I didn’t need to risk crossing the body of water for the risk of such a decision I was about to discover. For though the skies over land now fill with Pegasi royals, the ocean territories still belong to the Griffon. Even though it seems impossible the sun is blocked by the flock encircling above me.

The great feathered demons rage in the sky. They fly over and under each other, an accursed trapeze far above the rebel lead. Blinding flaps her wings till the friction with the wind blisters the very feathers of them. She has no intention to slow down, the diving beaks from up on high nearly catching at her flailing thighs as she makes her heading for good ol’ apple pie. The island makes its debut over the horizon, the griffons have not even touched the cyan coat of the fleeing mare. She crosses the threshold which separates the land from the sea and glides all a quiet to the rhythm of the city. The little mare loses her air expertise and submits to gravity.

I am overcome by a migraine; something eats away at me. The headache worsens as my gaze registers a road sign.

“North 31st street”

I retch, I lunge my head forward, vomiting copiously into the tarmac. My rumination ends for here too do my rebels agitate the gravel. This city is more advanced than our humble rat-run, it has a structure of law, it has famine ridden streets, and it has a memory, but I cannot remember it. Something in this town stirs bile in my gullet. And from up above rain the bloods of the fallen, the Pegasi here were weaker than ours, they had been starving and exposed for longer than even they can remember. My view of all things has long been warped, I do not hear the fleshy pounds as bodies fall lifeless to the ground, and I do not see the fading glow of willing fodder to my pointless crusade. I struggle to make out the line once drawn between what is just and what is wrong, I see it fit to take life from my enemy, but what choice do they have? The Queen couldn’t care less for these souls; she sends her dogs of war into Manehatton, her Griffons wielding turrets of iron. As they do descend so do my brethren fall with less fight, more of them fall, but where is the yellow one?

The squadrons carpet the skyline with nails of lead and iron; they bathe the ground below with their shadows. Blinding Fire joins the company up above, she dizzily ascends through the built up smog.  Her flight’s usual grace is replaced with a clumsy stupor. About the rooftops fly a mighty variety of Pegasi, but none, no not one is the one Blinding searches for. Fearsome brawls curdle the azure foam; the mare must fight for now and the search will have to wait. The legions expedite from the sea territory in order to squander the plans of the rebel Pegasus force. The sky is a hum with the cantus of whirring cannons. The mare finds herself out of her depth as the shells fly, decimating the lead woven slats.

Rebel mettle faces up against the steely defence of royal armour. Pegasi leave the good fight and divert to the other side, they lose any faith they have in Blinding Fire’s cause. The odds tip even further in the favour of the Queen’s stallions. The numbers of the pegasi rebels dwindle, the battle here most assuredly a foregone conclusion. Blinding cannot see an edge; she can’t see a sign that things will improve. A peppering of cannon fire rattles towards the rebel lead; she undulates through an industrial sort of rooftop to escape. She skips over the top of innumerable alleys and rat-crawls. Her eyes fix on the ground below, she takes fervent stabs with her wings against the air to push onwards.

She searches and searches, she’s at her wit’s end, but nowhere in the colossal war in the sky is her friend. Blinding powers onwards, she can hear the distant squawks of the tanked griffon curs who mean to break her spirit. The leader looks to her troops and orders them.

“Take positions on the roofs; don’t let them get the better of you”

The defiant Pegasi do as instructed, they take up arms on the tips of skyscrapers and the large roof plateaus. With more to hide behind the winged soldiers glean a better hold on the situation. Brass coated royals curse the skies; they join the sufficient force of mutant freaks and throw the table of odds off of its legs. Blinding Fire heads down to the concrete plane, she switches back around and heads up into the middle of the royal forces. She breaks through the barrier of brainless fools and draws the rifle she has spare. Up above the griffon she has no fear of their mounted cannons; she pulls the gun into her shoulder and fires down into the steam billows below. The sky runs rife with concussive blasts.

“Aim for their backs my brothers! Do not pussy out on me!”

I turn, through the smoke emerges a chariot. I finally see my friend, but it isn’t the one I was looking for. She is draped in royal purple; her hooves are shine to the point where she could check her reflection in them. Rarity’s gown is fastened by a familiar treasure.

“The alicorn amulet?” Blinding demands.

“You must be Blinding Fire… Your revolt is disgusting, it’s positively revolting”

“Tell your Queen that we will not fall still”

“Yes, she said you might be like this, talking in a riddle and what not”

“We cut your fools down in PonyVille. We’ll do the same here!”

“Oh really? When this armpit of the world crumbles you may join our recruits”

“Not in a thousand, not in a million years”

“And yes, I do have the amulet; Celestia says that it will make you bow to me… I mean her”

“I see your angle, you’re a terrible liar. You’re…”

“If you please Miss Fire, give up on this. You will only lead these ponies to their deaths”

“They know what they signed up for…”

“Aww, but still you look for sweet innocent little Fluttershy. I thought casualties were a necessary evil”

“Not… Not her”

“Double standards, oh my cyan Pegasus, you do make me cry”

“So why did the princess send her pampered little pooch?”

“Because I am here to end this, you may think you have a chance but you don’t. I hope you prayed this morning you pain in the horn! Now melt to the dirt with your pitiful army!”

Rarity’s horn burns with its normal pearl tinge, she is the epicentre of a humongous shockwave of energy which radiates across Manehatton.

Blinding Fire turns to look behind her, she feels as though she is in free-fall. She drops like a rock, picking up more and more speed before colliding with a fire escape and rolling onto her side. She cries in pain as her wings are burnt away by a magical fire. The chariot of gold smashes through the other side of the escape and comes to rest in a dent it leaves in the ground.

“Wrong spell Rarity” the injured mare teases from above.

“Ahh yes, it seems to be true. The negatus ariatus spell disabled my Pegasi engine too”

Rarity is laid out on the bonnet of her ride, her body shakes. Blinding climbs down a nearby ladder and makes for the fallen chariot.

“Anything with wings Rare, the griffons included” Blinding whimsically dictates as a dystrophic freak smashes into a cart at the end of the alleyway.

“Oh, my bad” she coughs.

Blinding boards the scuppered ride, Rarity kicks back with her legs but the stronger mare catches the hooves and sends them away.

“At least your buddies will be pancakes too” she cackles.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I told the bastard general of the griffons this, if I’m on the team it’s gonna win. Just a matter of time, my rebels were standing on the roofs. You only injured your own flyers”

“You contemptible little bitch!” She barks.

Blinding puts the white mare into a headlock, not allowing her a semblance of movement.

“What you think just because you kill me you idiots will win?”

“No. I’m gonna keep you around. But the horn, the horn has to go”

Blinding cocks the revolver and pushes it hard into Rarity’s appendage. She pulls the trigger a couple of times before the unicorn is made an earth pony.

“Where is Fluttershy?”

“You’ll find out soon enough” the besieged mare spits, she spit some blood out too.

The spell’s influence has died out, the Pegasi safe on the roofs glide down to their leader.

“Undress the guards, the amour is useful, take their weapon, our numbers are low. Take this bovine back to PonyVille and don’t let her escape. I will finish things here. Off with you”