//------------------------------// // Heroes and Heretics // Story: Gold and Brimstone : The Ultimate Team of Destiny // by WiseFireCracker //------------------------------// Ah yes, that time… Equestria is a nice place, you know? Oh yes, I can tell you that. Compared to the Ginnungagap or Tartarus, this place is sweet candy. Sweet, luscious, delish cotton candy. It’s pink and fluffy and… Ginnungagap. Gin-nun-ga-gap. Like gin drunken by a nun that gagged and went for a nap. Ginnungagap. There you go, Emerald. You got it. I’m sure your dad will be proud of you when you tell him. So, huh, what was I saying? Oh! I know, the time where I learned that cotton candy MIGHT sometimes, just maybe, have bitter or sour parts. The seller refused to refund me after I had thrown up the whole thing. Crazy, right? -- Now, there were words to describe what was going on, what I was feeling. ‘Baffled’ would be a great one. Its similarities to waffles would also make it a much more pleasant state of mind to be in. Toasted and lightly crusted with molten butter. So why in the name of buggeration was I not actually pleased? For one, I was running behind Prince Blueballs himself while we navigated the labyrinth that was the castle. I was staring ahead, which, in this specific case, meant staring at his butt. Yet I could not shake this impression of disgust seeping through my coat. It was the weirdest thing ever. I put that in a drawer in a corner of my mind and stored it back for later usages. For now, epic chase scene through the castle. We went through the ballroom, the long hallway, the dining room, the guards’ meeting room, the second set of hallways, the staircases to the treasure room, the guards’ barrack, the maids’ laundry room – indignant terrified screeches ensued –, the throne room, another set of hallways, and finally someplace that looked like a place that was part of a castle. On a turn of a dime, literally in my case – lucky bit! –, Blueberry-Royal-Muffin went behind a column. He did something with his horn, I couldn’t see what, and a whole section of the wall disappeared, leaving a wide opening into an unlit passage. Its path led in a downward spiral toward the blinding darkness of the earth. Blueblood entered with a scowl on his face, his muzzle scrunched up with wrinkles. “Havoc, follow me, and if you would be so sane as not to trip, it would be perfect.” Me, not sane enough?! Well, I could not very well let that insult go, thus I followed inside the secret passage at full speed, running after that arrogant unicorn. I’d show him who was insane! With one gracious swoop, I launched myself into the dark opening. As it turned out, because it was dark, I couldn’t see very well, and I could not land entirely on instinct. With a loud ‘thud’, my front legs slipped from under me, too much momentum involved, and I fell face first against something that felt like stone. Then, as the pain exploded through my poor abused forehead, the rest of my body continued on its tragic trajectory and I ended up with a pretty big pain in the back and rump too. New constellations appeared out of nowhere, as I could now see stars and they were all very pretty, but oh Discord, my head hurt. Like I had ran headfirst into a wall. Though maybe it wouldn’t be half as bad if a faint blue light wasn’t shining directly in my eyes! Blueblood’s gaze was turned onto me, one of his eyebrow raised higher than the other, no trace of amusement on his face, and wrinkles across his scrunched up nose. And, to be Honest, which I was, he wasn’t the only one bothered. A putrid smell permeated the air, and sniffing, I turned to the only possible culprit. “...What did you eat again?” His eyes twitched. For some obscure reason, I thought he might be the slightest bit exasperated. “It's not me, it's the sewers. That’s where we’re going.” What an obvious cover-up, I thought as I rolled my eyes and stood. Even if I could hear the sound of liquid running and a slight echo on the other side of that stony door, that meant nothing. I could easily be hallucinating that. Still, because he couldn’t read between the lines if he tried, Blueblood started talking about irrelevant stuff, all the while trotting down the spiral leading into the smelly bowels of the earth. “I suppose now would be a good time to tell you what we're doing.” “That’s up to you. I don’t mind improvising.” I shrugged. “I’m sure whatever it is out there, I could totally convince them to turn to a life of honest potato culture with my sheer charisma. Believe it!” “I will carefully not answer to that…” Blueblood said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I – and a select few others – am part of a special infiltration branch of the royal guard. It is my duty as a prince to be in the service, and this is what I chose to do. So, now we are going to go through the sewers and rescue some innocent ponies from some very bad ponies.” There was a pause. “Nah. I mean, no way!” I said, quickly waving my front legs in front of my face. “Why would you do that? You, Blueblood? No way. You sound and generally act like the prissiest thing in town. And this is a big town. Why would you do anything that does not relate to snobbism and cake?” I might have touched a sensitive chord in him, because his back tensed and his next step was more like a stomp. “Because it's my duty as a prince,” he said and puffed out his chest, giving me a stern glare. “Those ponies are as much my responsibility as they are the Princesses’. I do not shirk my duties.” Seeing the seriousness written all over his face, there was only one thought in my mind: ‘What’s a shirk?’ He did not answer to my thoughts. He just rose his head a bit higher. “This is part of my responsibilities.” “…Wait…” I said slowly. I could feel an idea build up at the back of my mind. It would definitely be really understanding and really smart, so I had to be ready and waiting for it to come to me. My mental ‘me’ crouched down in the mental void of my brain and turned his careful mental eyes over the soon-to-be brilliance. “WAIT!” I shouted, grabbing Blueblood by the tail. He yelped, making a sound like a pig calling a boar fat. His legs reared up and bucked, almost hitting me straight in the jaw, while he skipped a few paces ahead. “What are you on about now?!” “SSSSSSSSSSSS.” I hissed, rolling the sound off my long serpentine tongue. “Plural. Doesn’t that imply you have others? Like more than one?” Oh yes, his eyes definitely twitched a lot. “Yes, it does,” he said slowly, as if talking to a very young foal. “Because I do have other duties, including those of a diplomats.” “Oh! Like with Silk Trade?” “Yes, like that and with other dignitaries.” He resumed his walk, his breathing returning to normal. Like an almost reasonable pony, Blueblood was putting my outburst behind him. “Most importantly however… the job of the secondary royal family is to act as a failsafe. If Celestia – or now Luna – makes a horrible, horrible decision, and believe me, they have…” “I don't believe you,” I replied on the spot. “…I will be the scapegoat.” A strange yet perfectly logical idea came to me. “So they will turn you into a goat.” I tried to see it in my mind, taking the horn on his forehead and turning it into two, then with the power of photoshop putting them on both sides of his head. For good measure, I mentally stretched the fur on his chin, into a goatee. I mean, if there was one valid reason to ever have a goatee, to be a goat would have to be it. “Why… are you snickering?” the blonde goat asked slowly. Grinning, I stretched my wings and jumped over the void, hovering see him from all the angles. “It might be an improvement, you know? You should ask them to turn you into a goat.” He sighed. “No, but why am I surprised? Scapegoat, Havoc. It means that I will take all the blame for whatever they did. All of it. And it will forever be written down in history as my fault, like a smear on all my descendants.” That… sounded bad actually. It wasn’t fun to imagine, but it was kind of easy. Like, a big ancient scroll, dusty and brown from age, with lines and lines and lines all representing a pony’s whole life each. And then, at a random point, somepony else accidentally spilled an inkpot over the scroll. Every name drowned out in black, in the mistake of one unrelated other. But nopony would know that. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said humbly. “I’ll tell your descendants why you became a goat, don’t worry.” “Oh for goat’s sake!” He growled and looked ready for more, only for his eyes to suddenly widen and for his face to color red. He looked almost traumatized and his hoof hesitated over his mouth. Jos-Jos Elevenneton, the voice of reason, muttered near his ears and mine ‘whoops, bad influence there’. Finally, Blueblood gathered his wits and gave me a withering glare. “Look… forget the goat …I-it’s almost inevitable that I will have all my accomplishments drowned out by one of my aunts’ mistakes. So why not make things more believable while I can?” Pondering the question, I placed a claw to my chin. “I dunno,” I said, narrowing my eyes on him. “Sure, being a convincing actor at merely pretending to be a total asshole is cool, but there is the part where it means you act like an asshole.” His ear twitched. “Oh? Why would I bother showing a good face to the public when my true purpose is nothing higher than somepony to pin the blame on?” He pushed on a stony lock almost viciously then, throwing it off the door with enough strength to dent the wall on the other side. “Especially when the public just wants things from me, like money,” he said, then entered the newly opened way into the sewers. I followed him into the darkness, giggling while trotting on a small unlit passage. “Yeah, that's stupid. What's the point of having money?” “Especially when you have more than enough,” he added, a sneer appearing on his muzzle. “Yeah. Glad there are no poor ponies around,” I said, happily trotting on the sidewalk of the sewers. His snort then was not amused so much as it was dismissive and frankly disgusted. “I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about mares and stallions who want to cozy up to me for no other reason than that I'm rich and a prince.” “Ooooooooh, I see.” I grinned, quite happy with how this was turning out. With a couple of nudge, I made my approval known. “So you cozy up the poor ponies instead?” For some reason, it made his voice sound strangled. “...What?” Figuring out he was just being modest, I proceeded to act as nonchalant as possible. To help him feel better. “Yeah, I mean, since you don't like ponies that want to get in your good graces for the money they don't need, and you complain about THAT... You're helping ponies that actually need it instead, right?” His trot slowed down, until he was almost standing still. “…O-of course, that's… part of what we're doing now.” “Wow, you don’t know how relieved I am to hear that. I was worried you were just a privileged whiner. Like, you don't just sit there and use as much money as you want without a thought for the poor. That’s so nice of you.” Another idea hit me, and I perked up. “Hey, can we go to a food giveaway thing? I wanna meet more ponies.” Seeing as he kept silent, I grinned even more widely, a nice bubbly happiness coming to me at the thought of all that community service we would be doing. “T'would be fun to help for once. I… don’t really get to help often, it’s more like catastrophes after catastrophes with me…” Blueblood smiled then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was more of a sad smile. The poor stallion could be even more humble than I imagined. “…Sure, we can do that.” His gaze strangely focused ahead without a single motion toward me. “M-my whole job is to help ponies, Havoc. You’ll get your chance.” “Really?” “Really.” He sighed. “There are some very, very bad ponies who take advantage of other ponies, especially poor ones. I’m afraid we will have plenty of occasions to help. The things I’ve seen…” I was nonplussed, his words starting to sink in. “There are bad ponies?” Blueblood spent a second watching the crossroad we were at, his brows furrowed juuuuuust a little, before taking a turn right. “Yes. There are ponies who want to enslave other ponies, there are ponies who rape other ponies, there are ponies that kill other ponies for the fun of it.” …Nope. Nopenopenopenope, Equestria isn’t like that! Sugarbowl! My little pony, my little pony aahaaaahaaaaa! ~ My breathing sped up, coming out fast and shallow and hot. Ashes mixed with every exhalation, as I tried to grasp at the theme song with my claws, but it faded like a ghost every time. Every time. Every… Nope, little pony. AAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAA! Nope, wasn’t seeing, nope, hahahahhahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaa, that wasn’t a mare beating up a foal, nopety nope, not telling her child they were worthless, blablabla. Consensual sexual encounter, definitely, and everypony knew that you could walk away from a flesh wound like a slit throat. I used to wonder what friendship could be… Low growls in the guts, the taste of blood alluring over my tongue… Until you all shared its magic with me! “We’re sorry,” said two guards, “It’s about your daughter.” My right front leg gave out under me. Twin trails of dark gray smoke rose from my nostrils, growing in thickness with the burning heat spreading through my barrel. I couldn’t see straight, I couldn’t, there was red and black and twitches and glitches all over. I couldn’t see well, through the veil of violence, through the pulsing beat of my heart and the murderous fury. “There are ponies like that?” I said with a single voice. Strange shadows danced over the walls, slipping whispers to our ears. One even said a joke, which made me choke and spew out a few flames. But even that couldn’t affect my mood. The same echoing compassionate sentence came and came again. “It’s about your daughter. ” A dam within burst. Blueblood’s neck was held under my claws. “That's not right…” My voices were confused and angry together, “…at all. Not, Blueblood, what the fuck?! Not right, not rightrightright!” Gasping, his tone just above a whisper, trembling, shaking, whimpering, “N-no… it's not. That's why we have to stop them. Havoc, no time to lose here.” I let go with a lopsided smile. “Oki doki loki.” “Havoc,” he started, massaging his throat, his pupils still smaller than usual. “I'm going to cast an illusion spell on us, so that the bad ponies won't be able to tell that it's us. That way their friends can't come looking for us to hurt us. So, it’s important.” He paused mid-motion, his horn halfway pointed toward me. “…Please don’t react badly.” I really wanted to reply then, but my lips were twitching so badly anything I said came out as a distorted growl. My sight was still very jumpy, and might or might not be slowly turning red. “We are going to help lots of ponies!” I heard somepony say. “So, they can go home safe and sound, okay?” Home, that sounded nice. With a pop, things snapped back to normal, and I was smiling innocently at a sweating Blueblood. “So, spell?” His head slowly inched up and down at that, the glow of his magic spreading across both our coats. It tingled, like wind over my fur and my mane that didn’t move. And all sorts of little explosions happened over my body as the colors changed. I stared in curiosity at the yellow hooves in front of me. Trying to move my claws just made the left hoof tilt one way or another. That made no sense. I could feel the fangs in my mouth still and I was pretty sure – what was that tuff of blue mane at the top of my head? “Havoc, focus,” I heard, but the unicorn I saw then was two shades of burgundy red, no trace of royalty anywhere. He was even sorta… scrawny. I blinked. “Who are you?” “I'm still Prince Blueblood.” My eyes narrowed. I smelled a deception here. “Are you sure?” “I told you that they wouldn't be able to recognize us, remember?” “You did say it. Or at least Blueblood did.” “I am very sure I am still him,” the stranger said, his horn shining long enough to make Blueblood’s image blink over him. Not content with that, he turned around, his tail slapping the tip of my muzzle in annoyance. His steps were quick and I had to follow or else risk losing that maybe-Blueblood. “At any rate, there are twelve hostages in an old building. We are going to come up through the sewers and get them out so the royal guard can break down the doors without fear of harming the innocents. I've been in the building many times before, I know the layout perfectly.” My brain was screeching, jolting while some invisible hand tried to cram all that inside. “Huuuuh, okay, and where are the hostages?” “Most likely in the basement, where we'll be coming in. It's the furthest from the doors, so they'll have a chance to kill them before the guards get to them. Usually.” He turned his head just enough that I could see his smirk. “Or so they think. We'll be taking out the one or two ponies guarding them, and then we’ll lead the hostages to safety. Once we've gotten word from the guards that it's safe, we'll get the ponies to follow the guards with those criminals being none the wiser. Did you get all that?” A file came out of my brain’s main drawer. “Something something denying hostages to bastards.” It must have been good enough, or things were too dire to ignore, because he muttered something under his breath and started running. I followed, all the while wondering what kind of image that must have looked like. The two brave heroes galloping inside the sewers, Prissy Blueblood leading the charge, while also completely ignoring the less than noble liquid flowing near them. There was little light, save from what came from Blueblood's horn, but he never once gave the impression of being lost. Quite the feat, because I certainly was! Honestly, the place was like a labyrinth where we turned right, then left, then straight ahead, then into a curve, right, right, left, down a level and finally right. A labyrinth, I tell you! At this point, I was silently wondering if there was a radar hidden on Blueblood's person. Maybe in his horn… I would need to distract him so I could get a closer look. “Soooooooo... are we there yet?” “Almost,” he said breathlessly, suddenly slowing down from full gallop to a trot. So suddenly in fact that my motor skills failed and I ended up knowing the taste of his fur. And a bit of his tail too. Predictably, he glared while I tried to purge the taste of snobbism from my tongue. “Watch it!” he hissed. I pulled back further, a full bouncing pout on my lips. “But I don't wanna watch your rump...” His glare darkened considerably. “Not my flanks, you idiot, where you're going! Things will get very dangerous soon, and we'll both be in danger if you don’t pay attention.” I shrugged, waving a paw dismissively. “Well, you're in front of me anyway. I can't watch a lot farther than that. It's dark. If you hadn’t noticed. I’d be surprised, but you never know.” A long suffering sigh echoed in the sewers then. “This is going to take some getting used to.” “Well, studies show that it generally takes a few minutes for the average eyesight to adjust to darkness.” “We've been in here for seven minutes,” he deadpanned. That made a grin appear on my face. One lone triumphant claw was pointed at Blueblood’s face. “Logic dictates that you're thus alright.” “Yes,” he said, gritting his teeth. “That is how logic works.” “Glad to have enlightened you,” I chuckled, patting him on the back in a show of camaraderie. I mean, he was bad, but he could have some rare moments of decency that needed to be nurtured as much as possible. Some other habits would need to be cut down on, like the swearing. It was the first time since I had met him, but he was swearing something creative right now. Not even I could have thought up of using the moon that way. Hay, if he said that anywhere near a grandma, she’d drown him with soap. What a potty mouth. “Well, that was cathartic,” he said with no regard to my newly born trauma. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted too much time already.” From this point forth, it looked as if something had changed in the prince. It took until we had turned one last corner for me to realize… My ears were twitching, turning to focus on the noises that I heard, and they were never moving toward him. My first thought had been that it was because of a super soundproof material on the floor, but my claws still ticked on the stone at every step. The only sound in the sewer seemed to be the echo of my hooves, and the faint shimmer of Blueblood's magic. Sparkles of glittery magic rang with a little chime-like noise, but too discreet to register unless one specifically tried to hear it. A moment’s later, his head turned to the sewer’s wall, the one closest to him, and he showed a somewhat relieved smile. There was an engraving where he was looking at, something that looked to be recent, and with a hoofwriting that looked vaguely familiar. Blueblood’s gaze suddenly went to our surroundings, in quite literally every direction, before his horn’s glow grew bigger. At the same time, the light seized a few bricks and levitated them away from the wall. I would admit… I stared. “Secret passage?” His expression lacking any of its characteristic sternness or disdain, he nodded, almost entirely focused on the trap door just ahead. “We've had... problems, with this house before,” he whispered. “Terrible neighborhood, ideal location for troublemakers.” He put one hoof on the stairs, then paused and breathed deeply. “Havoc,” he said as quietly as possible, “if you want to say something, now is your last chance. After this, I want you to be silent.” To my own surprise, I actually had a question: “What do I do?” “Right now, we're under their basement. We have an access panel here where we'll be able to smuggle out the captives. They should be in the room above us. What we don't know is if there will be guards directly in the room with them. If that is the case, our job will be to free the captives and take out the guards before they sound the alarm.” With that said, I was all but ready to stomp inside and show them what I was made of, but my legs decided not to move for a few more seconds. Seconds, might I add, that Blueblood made judicious use of. His hoof fell heavily onto my shoulder. The look in his eyes then was serious, so very serious and so very not-Blueblood-like. “I'd prefer if there were no casualties, Havoc, but if push comes to shove, we may need to kill the guards. Hopefully, we can simply knock them out, but that may not be possible. Our priority is to get every civilian out of there safe and sound. Do you understand?” A very deep voice in a secluded corner of my brain started chanting at the mention of death. For a few seconds, I listened to it, wondering if I would get a shot at a bit of blood again. The war of Evil vs Oblivions was not over yet, not by a long shot… “Oki doki, loki.” I nodded. “‘M ready to try.” “That's all I ask,” he said, then turned to the trapdoor and, with a single swipe of his horn, managed to lift it without even the smallest noise. If he put it down, I did not noticed. Perfectly silent, Blueblood crawled inside, his now red body slipping away from sight quickly. With no order whatsoever, he somehow communicated for me to follow in the cramped space. There was little room for error here. The ceiling almost brushed against my horn, even with my belly touching the floor. Every four or five planks, there was a supporting beam to make the whole thing more challenging. Channeling my inner snake was the only solution. After a couple of twists and mindboggling attempts at occupying a smaller volume than my body needed, I managed to get into position. Thus, I was, upside-down, my head on the floor, my butt against a support column and my legs stabilizing me against the ceiling. It probably was painful to look at. Not knowing where my articulations were helped a lot. All that was needed was to hear the signal, whatever it could be. My ears were wide open, all for the sake of catching the probably audio cue I would get. But there were some faint noises echoing in here, breathing and hushed whispers, all very shaken, and the soft sobs of a foal or two. With every choked cry, there was a brushing noise in turn, of hoof against fur, and more gentle reassurances. Even to me, those felt terribly empty. “Shut up!” came a louder and harsher order. “I swear if you don’t get that kid to shut his mouth, we’ll bring him to the boss! Do you think he’ll be happy?!” The next sob was cut short with a squeak. I could smell the fear in the air. It was even a bit nauseating. Uncertain, I glanced back to see where my companion was at this point. Blueblood’s face was set in stone. He wasn’t that far, and there was a little light filtering down from the cracks in-between some tiles, but even in complete darkness, I probably could have recognized that look on his face anyway. Unforgiveable, Mister Broom told me. Absolutely unforgiveable. I felt a shiver. Something was very different about him and not just his coat’s colors. A strange feeling pulled at my guts when I looked at his horn, his non-shining, non-shimmering horn. His face was scrunched up in concentration, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. But the plank of wood over him moved all the same. I felt my breathing stop. My body stilled, the world stilled, everything suddenly disappeared to become entirely him looking just in the small crevice created. He looked back and mouthed ‘two’. Swallowing silently, my mind flying wild with ideas, I shimmied my way to his spot. This was it. Time to prove my worth in not screwing up ponies’ lives. Very carefully, I glanced at our surroundings. It was a dark, damp place, but a few torches hanging from some walls helped see further. I flinched at the sight of a pair of dirty hooves close enough for me to smell. Now I got what Blueblood had meant. Two bulky, hardened stallions – one a pegasus, the other a unicorn – were looking unflinchingly toward the side of the room opposed to our own. A glance told me why. There were many bundled up forms all gathered in that corner, a few smaller than me by half. Those were held close by the adults against their bodies, a silent promise of protection. Their manes were disheveled, mated and sticky in some spots. With greater focus still, I could see a darkened trail going from the corner of one’s stallion mouth to his chin. That one’s right front leg looked too twisted to be natural. I felt the shift of muscles against my left shoulder then, and I barely held in a yelp of surprise. Blueblood had moved, his sides to mine, and the plank was slowly moving upward. My breath got caught up in my throat. In the corner of my eyes, I saw a glimpse of savage anger flash on Blueblood’s face. Then, wind from nowhere blew into my mane with the blindingly fast throw of the plank. The two lookouts did not get a chance to move out of the way. They were thrown against the door with a resounding smack that echoed throughout the previously silent hideout. To my ears, it felt as if a bomb had detonated, and many cries of shock came in response. Blueblood’s lips let loose a curse or two about carelessness, not even waiting for the ponies’ unconscious body to slid to the floor. The plank had bounced off their faces and fallen back onto the floor in just as loud a clatter. “That was too hard!” Blueblood growled to himself while climbing out of our hole as fast as he could. Maybe a better solution would have been to soften the blow with foam, or bubbles, or maybe taking the time to hypnotize them through an elaborate series of mirror that would – No time! a friend of mine shouted. Startled, I shot to the ceiling with a burst of air, wings flapping hard. My eyes down onto the hostages, I pointed to the hole with both my front legs. “Come on, ponies! Come with him if you wanna live!” At once, the ponies stood up, clattering and staggering to their hooves. More than half of them jumped into an immediate gallop to get to the secret entrance, but theirs were not the only hoofsteps I noticed. The sound of shuffling hooves echoed from above me in a stomping stampede. Shouts rang loud, with orders to ‘Get down there!’ and ‘Make sure they’re all calm and obedient!’ , and the sounds were only growing louder. “Quickly!” cried Blueblood. “They’re coming!” “Coming fast,” I added. “Havoc, you guard the door!” he said without looking at me. “Don't let anypony come in here!” He took off running, moving around the hostages to get to the few ponies still getting away. Amongst them were those that were trying, but were trembling heavily. There were puddles near them, reflecting the light of the torches in a crimson glow. The thought of red made wings twitch. BloodgutsfleshtastytastyniceHUNGRY! “HAVOC! THE DOOR!” I shook my head, a few droplets of saliva falling to the ground, and dove for the creaking wooden door. Unfortunately, I still sucked at landing. My body smashed into the panel and slammed it shut, straight onto somepony’s muzzle if I were to believe the sudden swearing on the other side. I had trouble feeling my shoulder now. Rankles shook the world, or just me, and it was only luck that I had half of my grip firm onto the ground at the time or I would have been thrown off my spot. Eh, I didn’t, what… The thoughts in my brain were growing fuzzy. Right plus two equals maybe hit my head? “Keep it up, Havoc! As long as you can!” Oh, okay, random Blueblood carrying an injured mare on his back. It was easier to push my back against the door than to stand anyway. Nice door. If only it didn’t shake on its knobs every five or so seconds. So pushy. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a nice door. Just a barely tolerable one that was giving me thoughts of murder. Nope, nope, bad me. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. The stream, birds, rivers, peaceful mornings without alarm clocks, a picnic with an hippo… “Mommy!” screeched a filly. “I’m getting her next, just come with me now!” I am the peace, the sky with clouds and a winning lottery ticket. Bow before me, your relaxed deity. In fact, I was so relaxed that the next shake made me stumble forward. My balance shot, I fell back on four hooves, and a hard wooden surface slapped my butt. “Hey!” I shouted, feeling a strong force pushing me further away. Still in the butt. Those perverts! “I was thinking of ducks! Can’t you people knock before slapping?!” Briefly, the forceful push faltered, then faded in a stunned silence. However, it only lasted for a few seconds before those bastards started pushing again. For. Real. Guys?! Blueblood, of course, was not very helpful. “Madam, it's safe down there, I promise you. Just let me help you! Your daughter is safe!” Scowling, I started pushing with my hindlegs at full strength, happy to feel it retract a couple of inches. “Do you guys have no sense of decency?! I’m naked in here! Bad enough that you don’t know the definition of bad touch!” The door finally deigned to answer, all with the coarse deep growling voice of a stallion, “Somepony shut him up, for Celestia’s sake!” “Holy mother of freaking Entropy!” I roared. “Don’t you dare get me started on censorship, you evil cheese-making Golden Retriever!” There was a bang, not just a little whimpy poof, a bang and everything shook. Not just me, all the vertebras in my spine and then some in the next pony’s spine. My hooves started sliding alongside the scratchy rock, inexorably, without me being able to do a thing about it. Except protest. “Can you please stop banging me?! I don’t like where this is going!” I shouted in panic. “The one to shut that moron up gets a promotion! Double pay for a month!” “Are you naturally this mean or did you dislike getting touched that bad? I swear I didn’t quite realize you were intelligent enough to be sapient! If you knew you weren’t just a dumb piece of wood, I wouldn’t have–” “TRIPLE! I AM PAYING TRIPLE TO WHOEVER GETS ME THAT GUY’S TONGUE!” “I don’t want to kiss you! You’re probably full of termites!” I whined, trying to channel my inner Rarity. Doors were dumb, diamond dogs could be dumb, therefore doors might be diamond dogs. Whining was their weakness! “Doooooooooon’t! This harness is too tight! Can’t you loosen it?!” Like I had predicted, the door stopped pushing me out of the way. Its inevitable victory over me was delayed, though not for the reasons I had logically conceived. I, to my great shame, felt relief seeing Blueblood’s burgundy body lean against the door. “We’re almost done here, Havoc. Just a few more moments...” “So, huh, you do this often, Blue?” I asked, feeling some bones in my back move in ways that were probably not recommended by one doctor out of ten. “This whole ‘save-the-ponies?’” “Now is not the time to talk about this!” he growled. “The weather then?” “Havoc! Focus!” he shouted, anger and desperation making his voice raw. Every inch of his body was tense, thrown in an effort to block the door. “We need to protect the hostages! The bad ponies are coming!” As if to punctuate his words, splinters of wood burst from just between us, the edge of a metal blade sticking out. Threats filtered much better through that small opening, and they promised oh so much pain. My fangs clattered together, a low, deep burning chuckle coming to lie within my lungs. They promised pain, dismemberment, “You’re so dead!”, shoving horns in private places, and pain, pain, pain. And I was clutching my chest with one hoof, as the words repeated in my brain, and I found my blood growing cold. And again again, Blueblood’s words. Bad! Ponies! “Do you mind if I do something?” I asked in a monotone. “This is killing my tailbone. It’s screaming in agony, or it’s being a drama queen.” He looked not to me, but to the rest of the room, finally emptied of hostages. “If you believe it will help, do it and fast!” “You might wanna move away,” I quipped, my fangs clenched together. Maybe it was something I said or the way I smiled, but he paled and wasted no time arguing. In the blink of an eye, he was nowhere near me. Perfect, I grinned. See you in Tartarus, Door! Throwing my head forward, I clenched my abdominal muscles and brought forth the firepower. Heat rose in my throat, a rumble shook my lungs and flames erupted in a steady burning stream onto the damnable door and its bad ponies! Blaze spread almost instantaneously in the dances of monstrous elementals, chuckling to hellfire’s hymns. Their figures twisted before my eyes, shifting from one size to another, calling forth more of their own to eat away at this accursed building in an ever growing scene of End. I smiled then, from one ear to the other, I smiled before the ire with all my fangs and the cheers of Barbara Sunshine loud and clear. I could hear my blood sing and I was looking with fondness at the destruction. “Pretty...” “Havoc, we have to leave now!” came Blueblood’s voice. Buzzkill, I thought, but regretfully tore my eyes away from the spectacle. Time to go, I guess. Jumping away from the heat and smoke, I grabbed two furry pony tails from the ground and trotted merrily to the hole, not really caring if the two guys attached to them were hitting their chins on the floor with each step. A spring in each leg, I pronked my way down the stairs, the satisfaction of a mission accomplished carrying me. “Cause I love to see you smile! Yes, I do. It fills my heart with sunshine all the while!” I stopped in front of Blueblood, whose look was that of pleasant surprise. “That was some very quick thinking, Havoc.” “My throat was itchy. Needed clearing badly.” I giggled, causing high-pitched and low-pitched mania to meet in a nerve-grating sound. Even I thought that was bad. But, for honor’s sake, I acted as if everything was alright? “What about those two?” He looked to the unconscious criminals just behind me. “Well, we need them for questioning, Havoc. Not us personally, but the authorities.” Could he have said something more boring? “Alriiiiiight,” I sighed, smoke coming out of my mouth. Blueblood grinned. “I'm sure the chefs will be more than happy to get you something else to eat.” “Those heavenly warriors will?!” I gasped loudly. “Oh, trust me. After they hear of this, they’ll be quite happy to cook a full meal for you. Besides, Chef Ram’s Head was complaining about the lack of practice his sous-chefs were getting about cooking meat. Something about it being raw.” “Oh hell yeaaaah!” I fist pumped the air so hard it broke a bit. “I'm going to reenact the Ragnarok of the pig gods. Be it raw or cooked, no meat shall escape my sight, especially not when those guys and gals are the one preparing it.” His smirk was rather telling. “Yes, they are the best in the kingdom, and I would argue the best in the world. And they are going to be cooking your next meal. Again.” The sound I produced then could be – by a tremendous effort of imagination and stretching suspension of disbelief very far – mistaken for a schoolfilly’s gleeful squee. By the tone deaf and the arrogant. Blueblood was of the number, chuckling to himself, while the others – "Wait, where are the others?" “Behind that corner.” He helpfully pointed. “You scared them with your giggles and your squeeing.” Oh, that was just unfair! “Awww, guys, come on, everyone giggles. It's like breathing and having thoughts of murder!” Blueblood’s hoof met his forehead. Underneath it, I could see a deep and singular melancholy. A second later, I understood what had bothered him. What a thing to overlook! “Wait, Blueblood, do I even breath?” His eyes widened a bit, probably impressed I had realized my mistake. “…Yes, most of the time at least.” “Sweet Celestia!” I placed a hoof to my mouth in horror. “Nopony told me that!” Even someone as insane as I could tell that his was the expression of sheer bafflement. “We didn't think we needed to.” At that, I pouted. That was even more unfair! Everyone’s always acting like that around me! “I am a completely new species, made out of chaos and madness. Who could tell if my chest moving is not just a mimetism?” His mouth opened to reply something biting and assholish, but my words actually registered and he stopped dead in his track. “... W-well ...You see... we don't know that...” he admitted slowly. “We know you have lungs and that you breathe, but we can't tell if it actually does anything... and whether it does or not may simply be random.” My tail flicked to one side. “Huh. Well, whatever. Kinda wanna go home now. Am I really the only one ever to think that?” “Not even close,” Blueblood muttered with a smirk, before heading over that corner with me in tow. The bunch of traumatized civilians looked on fearfully at the light coming off his horn. One mare even moved a foal behind her. In the heat of the moment, they had listened, but hearing that I might not be a breathing pony had reignited their suspicions. Châteauneuf's expression turned softer, losing the last of the edge it had before. “I think your families would like to know that you're alright.” The ponies assembled nodded, but there still was hesitation in their movements. They seemed torn between gratitude and apprehension. I caught more than one look sent my way, too few of them comfortable and relaxed. “W-who… are you?” asked a grey stallion, whose lower lip had burst open. “I am simply a pony in the service of her royal highnesses, I was sent here along with my companion to rescue you.” From the small crowd, a blue colt slipped past the vigilance of the adults and spoke up. “What's your name?” Blueblood, to my surprise, chuckled and gently ruffled the foal’s mane. “I wouldn't be a good spy if I told you that, now would I?” “You're a spy?" The other foals came out of their hiding places, their eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement. The prince’s smile was indulgent under the illusion. With a wink, he motioned for them to get closer. “Yes, but it’s a big secret,” he whispered loudly enough to be heard by everypony. “So if somepony asks, say you were not saved by Châteauneuf, but by a bunch of royal guards.” The little ones all nodded quickly, admiration plastered all over their cutesy faces. In a considerably better mood than before, Châteauneuf turned to the remaining ponies, “Let's get moving, everypony. I'm sure your families will be thrilled to see you all safe and sound.” His interaction with the little ones had finished his job convincing them. Many a former hostage left out shaking, shuddering breath, even a tear or two, realizing they were finally safe and the nightmare was over. Only then did the gratitude truly pour over to my watchpony. I didn’t think he realized how badly he was drinking up their admiration. It was just so obvious, even to something like me. His smile now was a lot more real than pretty much any other since I’d started hanging around him. He was just looking so damned pleased with himself, and the little colt looking at him with stars in his eyes was like a giant ego booster pack. For some reason, that made me pretty happy too. -- The way back went considerably smoother than the first trip. The freed hostages all obediently followed Châteauneuf throughout the labyrinth, and I didn’t need to hear his rumbling rambling, so I was feeling giddy too. Nope, I had been at the back of the queue with the two meanies on my own back, and a very nice mare had done her very best to explain how casting spell worked after I had asked. Didn’t understand a thing, but I was really grateful she had tried anyway. I said as much. Did she blush? Not sure, she was a shade of dark pink, and I still didn’t have the slightest on how somepony could see skin reddened under thick fur. I did, however, feel my face lit up with warmth when she placed a little kiss on my cheek as we parted. “Thank you,” she said, briefly touching my shoulder with a hoof. “We owe you two so much…” Stunned, I didn’t react much beyond a few stuttered unintelligible noises. Why was it hot in the sewers? It had been cold before! Witchcraft! The only possible explanation! The mare’s giggle stayed with me for a long time, even after she had followed the rest of the group into the secret passage leading to the militia’s station. Wh-what? What had happened? So, while Blueblood took care of all the tedious paperwork-thingy-slash-diplomatic-relations, I decided to be actually productive. Pacing a bit, I ran the possibilities in my head, going from the logical (creating a cure to all diseases) to the slightly less logical (giving my input to the guards). It was when my eyes fell on the greenish gray rocks of the walls that the right idea hit me. I wasted no time in getting to work. And was pleased to realize my claws were still there despite them looking like a chubby yellow hoof. Time to get to work! “...Havoc?” The call almost distracted at the most crucial part! I was almost done carving the horns and the goat’s head on the guy! A lesser artist would have let an inconsiderate Blueblood startle them into screwing up their delicate sculpture. But not Michaelo-Honesto Havoc! In fact, the interruption seemed only to spark a greater fire within. The interruption and not at all my dragon’s spleen. The fire in my guts was very philosophical, yes, and it made me tremble with even more inspiration. The winds caught my wings and words started to appear in my head. So, of course, I let out the powerful impulse run wild with the bellows of my lungs. ~REGINA! SALVATIONE!~ ~Culpa, Culpa Succubi, Maxima Lust!~ ~Alchemist of Metal Full!~ ~Why do you tempt me sooooooooo?!~ I twisted and turned away from a stunned Prince of the Unicorns, and the fifty or so red hooded ponies. No, no, no, they could not convince me. ~Mea culpa! Mea culpa maxima!~ ~Not my fault! It was that witch’s fault, she did this with her witchy wicked wagic.~ ~Magic, smagic. Something that ends in ‘gic’. ~ ~Ah! Tragic! YES! YESSSSSSSS!~ I rose on my hind legs, pointed to the ceiling with both of my forelegs and let out another stream of flame to illuminate the sewers in red orange. ~Burn her to death or make her be miiiiiiiiiine! ~ I kinda overextended myself, as my sense of balance was not that good. Against all odds, I fell on my butt in an anticlimactic finale. And I was doing so well… A white hoof came down just next to me, and attached to that was a stallion that looked equal part alarmed and annoyed. “…What are you doing?” “I’m… not sure.” “What is this?” he asked, pointing to my spontaneous art session with a stern tone. “Three minutes. I turned around for three minutes and you have created atrocious demonic art out of the walls. There is a cow eating a dog eating a tree eating a demon eating a filly eating the metaphorical concept of Truth! I don’t even understand HOW I understand what that is! So, I repeat, what is all that?!” How to explain the delicate intricacies of art on my level? There were so many nuances, so many colors and sounds involved in the simple thought process leading to the creation. I should cite my inspirations, yes! Good idea, brain. I cleared up my throat. “Err, it looks evil.” Blueblood looked momentarily dumbfounded. So I stood up and propped up the two unconscious stallions on my back. “I'll assume it is for the time being. Say, where do I put those two? They should be waking up very soon.” There was a short moment of silence during all of which I felt Blueblood’s hesitant stare over my coat. His voice was carefully guarded, especially with a guard station at like three meters of distance, and he pointed toward said station. “We hand them over to the Canterlot Special Unit. They’ll take care of the interrogations.” “Alrighty then!” I giggled and jumped a bit as he knocked twice slowly, then thrice quickly, then six times in an crescendo over the sigil. The click was different this time, as was the stallion that answered. He peeked his muzzle out of the secret door and started to enter the sewer on Blueblood instruction. It’s just… after that… The guard pony actually froze in the middle of what he was doing, his pupils shrinking as they focused on the walls and ceiling of the sewers. His ears actually flattened against his skull, and he muttered something under his breath like ‘No… not again… I finished my Tartarus service last year…’ It was also NOT my fault that the runes all decided that this was the best time to glow ominously and drip blood all over. But somehow the guard thought it was and fainted to make me feel bad. The glare Blueblood sent my way didn’t do much to help. The bastard. Trying to hide my guilt under a sheepish act, I hoofed over the two floppy bodies of the two criminals he had knocked out. -- Observatory Journal, by Prince Leon Polaris Blueblood. Entry # 3 I was pleasantly surprised by Honest Havoc’s contribution to the emergency situation. I had not been certain about bringing him on the field in the first place, but as there had been no time to evaluate him properly, I took a gamble. Luckily, it seems that he has a very strong desire for justice. The thought of ponies abusing other ponies has sent him into the scariest rage I have seen of him yet, and it was not even directed at me. The thought that a misunderstanding might unleash that kind of anger from him on an innocent makes me shiver. Despite this mostly positive first test, I reserve my judgment on a more extended partnership in field mission between us. His insanity might seriously compromise any mission without prior notice. To be examined further. P.S. I must not forget to send a group of exorcists down in the sewers before we need to use them again. They have already found five demons in there, and there is a rumor about a sixth one. Strangely, reports say that they are looking for a ‘woman’ or an ‘Esmeralda’, whatever that is. P.S.S. The soup kitchen thing should be put on my planner. I have a feeling Honest Havoc would be very disappointed if we didn’t actually go do some charity work. …He is supposed to be a chaos demon pony, isn’t he? [Illegible scratches] No, nevermind that. I know the answer to it. He is a chaos demon pony and he was kicked out of Tartarus! I’ll finish writing the entry when I find where he hid my desk. I was using it to write when he borrowed it!