Mareicopa: October 2025
Chupacabra Stadium was a massive stadium in downtown Mareicopa with a retractable dome, which was now closed, making the stadium look like a giant egg lying on its side. Though the stadium wasn’t as grand as the stone and marble coliseums in Stirrup, it was a perfect place for a city like Mareicopa to have hoofball games, horseshoe tosses, and other athletic events. It also made a pretty good improvised concentration camp.
Pumpkin Cake stood on the side of the street in the parking area, scoping out the stadium. Second Kingdom police officers walked around near the front steps and stood by the doors, but other than their presence, it was difficult to tell anything out of the ordinary was occurring at the stadium. In fact, there would often be this much security during regular hoofball games, though the internment of earth ponies and pegasi in Mareicopa was an open secret by now.
Besides the front doors, there were several entrances to the stadium. The side doors had no door handles on them, being emergency fire doors. Pumpkin Cake walked around back to an unattended fire door, glanced in all directions to ensure no watchers, and walked through. The hallway was lit by fluorescent lights, with concrete floors and dust everywhere. The grey brick halls were unpainted. A door to the janitor's closet stood near the middle of the hallway. This was a maintenance hallway, she figured.
After stopping by the janitor’s closet, Pumpkin followed the hall, finding the door which let out into the stadium vestibule. A mop and a wash bucket were in her magical grasp, and she wore one of the janitor’s spare denim overalls that was hanging up in the closet. She wasn’t sure how the janitor had looked, but figured that there was more than one janitor for a stadium this big. So Pumpkin changed her mane and coat color to jet black and chocolate, respectively, since it looked nothing like either her or her Red Velvet alter ego. If anypony asked, she’d just say she was a new employee.
The door creaked open as Pumpkin made her way into the vestibule. All around were Second Kingdom guards with assault rifles. A few concession stands stood abandoned, with metal coverings over them. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached one of the entryways to the green. She would say she was there to clean up a mess. One of the guards simply nodded his head and allowed her to go through. It was easier to get by than she had expected.
Pumpkin gazed down at the green from the stands, and gasped in shock. There were around 30,000 ponies here, she figured. Thousands and thousands of cots were set up on the field, on the sidelines, under the goalposts, and in the entrance to the locker rooms. There was very little talking, mirth or laughter, mostly silence, groans, and tears, just as it had been for her in Trixie's captivity.
Most of these ponies were elderly or sickly, and coughs and sneezes peppered the field. The stench of the field was nearly unbearable, and there were just half-a-dozen portable toilets scattered around, not nearly enough for this many ponies. Pumpkin wasn't sure how many ponies it would take to get Princess Twilight to crack and sign a peace treaty, but, hopefully for them, they wouldn't have to find out.
Pumpkin Cake now realized how difficult freeing all of these ponies would be. There were dozens of guards around, and a lot of these ponies were in no condition to run off. She couldn’t rescue them all herself. Pound Cake was correct: Pumpkin needed allies. However, she didn't have the first idea of how to find like-minded ponies in a city where speaking a different opinion from the regime could mean imprisonment or disappearance.
Perhaps, though, there was another way she could stop the internment. Something of this scale didn’t just happen by itself, and all of these guards had to be taking orders from somepony. She didn’t know who, since the documents at Trixie's house didn't contain much mention about the logistics behind the internment. But if Pumpkin could find the ponies in charge and take them out, she could turn the position of Concentration Camp Manager into the least-wanted job in the city. If she killed a few head ponies, the rest of them to get the idea: the internment stops, or those responsible will die.
Pumpkin Cake returned to the vestibule where the guards stood. They were walking around without a care, as if totally unaware of the misery on the green below. There was a churning feeling in her stomach from watching them laughing and joking with each other, seemingly oblivious.
She circled the vestibule several times like a shark in search of prey until finding a young stallion who stood alone, with nopony else in sight. When the guard’s back was turned to her, she pounced on him, her horn coruscating as they both disappeared, then reappeared inside of the janitor's closet.
The stallion glanced up at her, only having just re-materialized. He reached for his gun, but found it gone. Pumpkin Cake subdued him in a blue glow, pinning him against the wall.
“Listen closely. I will allow you to speak, but if you call for help, or if you don’t answer my questions, I will snap your neck. Now tell me, who is in charge of the internment?”
The pony blinked a few times, then stammered, “His n-name is F-fancy Pants.”
“Where can I find him?” she demanded.
“He's at the administration building downtown. Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything you want!”
Pumpkin chuckled. “Not so fun being on the other end, is it?” she scoffed.
His mouth moved a mile a minute as he spoke like a pony at the end of a radio commercial for experimental medicine.
“Listen, I’m just seventeen, and I’m from Copa, but I enlisted when I found out that Twilight was blowing up parade floats full of little kids; I just had to stand up to that, and those magic control laws. I didn’t want to round up earth ponies; I’m just following orders! I don’t like the internment either and it’s just as bad as what Twilight does to the zebras. Please let me go and I promise that I won’t tell anypony that you’re after Fancy Pants. I want him dead too for what he’s doing.”
Pumpkin was silent for a minute, considering his words. He had made some interesting points, and had certainly touched on her own issues with Twilight Sparkle. Could he be telling the truth, or was he just being crafty? Quickly, she formulated a plan that would tell her.
“Fine,” said Pumpkin Cake, as her horn lit up and she retrieved his rifle, that now was slung across her own back thanks to a teleportation trick. “If you really are serious, then go out into the hallway and shoot another guard dead. I’ll teleport you to safety once you do it.”
The gun floated over towards him, and then dropped to the floor. She waited for him to pick it up, ensconcing herself with magic in case he turned it on her. Surely enough, he glanced at the gun, sat for a few moments, then shook his head.
“Sorry. I don’t want to be a fugitive. But at least I might get a promotion from offing a partisan.”
He grabbed the gun in his own magic, and pointed it towards Pumpkin, pulling the trigger as a spray of bullets passed harmlessly through her.
And here I was, hoping I’d found a kindred spirit, she lamented. She grabbed the gun and turned it on the rather confused stallion. His blood and brains painted the closet with a gushy splat. Pumpkin disappeared, taking the gun and remaining ammunition.
Three Days Later
Though Mareicopa was a large city in population, much of it was sprawl, and it had few tall skyscrapers. It was much like Fillydelphia in that respect. In fact, the administrative building of Mareicopa, at twenty-five stories high, was the second-tallest building in town.
Like all the other buildings in Mareicopa, it had a reddish-orange mesa exterior. It didn’t have modern air conditioning like many newer buildings in town, so most of its windows stood open all day, with window fans running on full blast.
Pumpkin Cake had spent the last few days scoping out the building and watching through the windows, taking copious notes. There were five armed guards stationed around the perimeter, and twenty-five inside, one for each floor. She had come to know her target’s security, including the times that he left for and arrived to work, took lunches and breaks, and when the guards would do their rounds and check on him.
She had also come to know the target himself. In addition to the internment, Fancy Pants was also in charge of propaganda. Every friday night, he organized a unicorn rally in the center of town with hundreds of ponies waving red and black Second Kingdom flags, though he usually didn’t attend them himself. Fancy Pants had also put up many propaganda posters around the town. There were so many falsities, Pumpkin had lost track.
“Better life for earth ponies and pegasi! Come to Chupacabra Stadium!”
“Blueblood, the savior of the unicorn race!”
“This zebra is your friend. He fights for freedom.”
It made her sick, and she would be glad to take out such a liar. She had also seen wanted posters hanging up with her own face on them.
“WANTED: Pumpkin Cake, age 15, female, for murder and high treason against the unicorn race. Magically proficient and highly dangerous, alert authorities upon sight.”
For this attack, she had changed her hair and mane color to jet black and chocolate again so she wouldn’t be easily spotted.
Fancy Pants’ office was on the top floor, and she had planned quite a show for his assassination. She brought a camera in her saddlebag to take pictures, because she figured that the Second Kingdom publicists would not wants to reveal the details about his gruesome death themselves. But she would take them to the Tall Tale Times, since that paper was still available in the Second Kingdom. Then it would percolate through the grapevine of the intelligentsia, and nopony would post for Fancy Pants’ vacant chair.
Initially, Pumpkin hadn’t planned on striking him in his office, preferring to take him out at home. But, unlike Trixie, Fancy Pants could teleport, and quite a long distance, too. It had been impossible for her to trail him when he left or arrived at work in a teleport flash, and she had failed to find his address otherwise, so she just settled on killing him in his office.
But you can’t teleport out of your office walls, Fancy Pants, she recalled. The principle of teleportation was that an unobstructed path had to exist between the unicorn and his destination. The path could curve, but its girth had to be at least as wide as the unicorn, so unicorns couldn’t merely teleport past obstacles like closed doors, walls, or jail cell bars. Good thing, or else unicorn burglars would have a field day.
Pumpkin Cake, however, could teleport past such barriers if she used her intangibility and teleportation spells simultaneously, a difficult combo she had used during one of her failed escape attempts from the Research Department, and that she had done when interrogating the stadium guard a few days ago. But it was easier to just teleport right up to a wall and then pass through it, which was what she had planned for the assassination.
In the run-up to the assassination day, Pumpkin had been conducting hit-and-run attacks against guards at the stadium, amassing a stockpile of various weapons until she found a small pistol, perfect for carrying around concealed in her saddlebag. Ironically, the smallest weapons were harder to come by, and she had to kill five guards until she found one who had a sidearm. But now that she no longer had to worry about ‘naturally’ falling asleep, it was surprisingly easy for her to kill. No more restless nights of pesky thoughts like whether any of those stallions and mares had families, or whether they deserved it.
That must be how Blueblood sleeps after everything he’s done; he uses the sleep spell in his book, Pumpkin figured. That, or he simply had no conscience.
Pumpkin had spent time out in the desert, shooting at tin cans to improve her aim and get used to guns again. Though she was rusty from being underground for months, the training from the range in Appleloosa soon came back.
The evening before, she had been into the administrative building after-hours and scoped out Fancy Pants’ office. It was a top-floor corner office, with two windows, both usually kept cracked open enough to let in air, but not enough to teleport out of. Today, though, both of his windows were closed, since it was a rather mild day.
Good, she thought. Nopony outside will hear.
Thankfully, Fancy Pants didn’t have any bodyguards in his office. There was one stationed about ten meters down the hall from his door, though, so she would have to be quiet to avoid alerting him. If he became a hassle, she planned on shooting at him through the door, since the angle was just right.
Once she was confident she had thought of everything and was ready, she teleported up onto the roof, appearing right in the middle, where the angle was too steep to be seen by anypony on the ground. She walked to the corner of the building and then counted seven paces inward, just like she had practiced earlier. Her horn created a hatch in the ceiling, and she jumped down, her weapon pointed towards Fancy Pants’ desk.
Fancy Pants sat at his desk, his horn glowing as he attending to some important business. His head jolted up as he heard a thud, and then his jaw gaped.
Standing before him was a young unicorn mare with a chocolate coat, jet black mane, and blue eyes narrowed in a determined glare. Her magic glowed blue, and in her telekinetic grasp, she pointed a pistol straight towards him. He had no idea how she had gotten into his office, since his door had been locked, and he hadn’t even heard it open.
Fancy Pants remained seated, but threw his hooves up into the air and begged, “Don’t sh--”
Suddenly, he was silenced by her magic.
“Don’t move another muscle,” The mare demanded. “It’s time to end your little game, Fancy Pants. You’ve done nothing but lie, and now ponies are dying because of you.”
Fancy Pants blinked. A shiver ran down his spine, and the room suddenly felt icy cold as the young mare stared him down with a scowl. He gulped as he reached an inescapable conclusion.
Blueblood knew he was a traitor.
He had no idea how. He kept his meetings with Agent Sparkler entirely secret and protected from eavesdroppers, and he’d churned out as convincing of propaganda for the Second Kingdom as he possibly could, and he’d organized the internment. Maybe Top Brass had tipped Blueblood off after the attempted Equestrian invasion of Mareicopa. Who knew? But somehow, Blueblood’s intelligence apparatus had caught up with him, he’d been discovered as a traitor to the Second Kingdom, and they had sent this hitmare to his office to kill him.
“Any last words? You’re normally so wordy on those posters,” said the mare.
What could he do? He would have to say something to save his own life somehow, or this mare would shoot him. For the first few moments, he couldn’t think straight. Normally, he was quite eloquent, but this time, his words escaped him.
Finally, Fancy Pants regained his composure, sat up straight in his chair, and proclaimed, “I’m not a traitor. I’ve been perfectly loyal to the Second Kingdom and to Blueblood. We have already captured 50,000 earth ponies and pegasi, surpassing Blueblood’s minimum number, and we’re on track to meet 100,000 by the end of October. Army enlistments have increased 10% thanks to my recruitment drive. And, I even have a long list of traitors and partisans that I’ve given to Blueblood. Maybe you’ve even been assigned to kill some of them.”
The mare blinked, a confused look on her face.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
Figures, she’s just a hitmare who probably doesn’t know about the role I play. She’s just been told to come kill me, no questions asked. Maybe if I show her the list, she’ll believe me, Fancy Pants thought.
“I’m going to slowly open my desk drawer. There is something inside I’d like you to see. Please do not be alarmed,” he said.
His horn lit up, and the old oak desk drawer slowly opened, a slight creak escaping the drawer. The mare’s ears shot up, and she floated her gun right up to Fancy Pants’ face, pressing it against his nose.
“That had better not be a gun!” she exclaimed.
Fancy Pants powered down his horn. “It’s a piece of paper. Grab it with your own magic if you like.”
A blue field enveloped the piece of paper inside of the desk, and it floated over to the mare.
She glanced at it with one eye, keeping the other eye trained firmly on his face along with the gun.
“That is my newest list of partisans and traitors,” said Fancy Pants. “I have been observing these ponies for months. I’ve gathered more names, ones that not even the intelligence service knows about, and ones that aren’t even on that list, only in my head. As the propaganda minister, I’m in a good position to find these names. I talk to a lot of ponies, you know. But if you kill me, you won’t get any more of the names. If you kill me, a true Second Kingdom patriot will die, but all of the actual traitors will still be walking free.”
Pumpkin Cake’s heart skipped a beat. Then, she smiled, and had to keep herself from laughing as she realized what he meant.
This Fancy Pants character was so wrapped up in his own propaganda, so wrapped up in fear and lies, that he thought that she was a hitmare, sent to kill him for being disloyal to the Second Kingdom! She had no idea what he would have to worry about, though. After all, given the internment of earth ponies and pegasi that he had orchestrated, and given the heaping helping of eyesore propaganda posters that he had plastered over the city’s walls like some graffiti gangster, only the most conspiratorial of ponies would question Fancy Pants’ unwavering loyalty to Blueblood.
She thought for a second. She supposed she could tell him that she was actually from Equestria, and that she was seeking retribution on everypony who marched under the flag of genocidal fascists, and that she sought to free the earth ponies and pegasi in Mareicopa from the same ponies who had killed her parents and enslaved her like a common farm animal, harvesting her magic like milk from a cow, all while supposedly standing for the supremacy of unicorns and their right to be free.
But then she decided against it.
If this clown was going to die, she thought, then his punishment would be to think that he had failed at his life’s mission of spreading hate and lies, not that he had succeeded. The Second Kingdom had destroyed almost everything that Pumpkin Cake held dear: her parents, Ponyville, Appleloosa. So it only seemed fair to her that, before killing this sputtering old windbag, she give him the same treatment and take from him what he valued most: his sense of usefulness to the unicorn race.
Fancy Pants would die thinking that he was a total and utter failure, and that Blueblood had ordered his death. She would not give him the pleasure of knowing her struggle, of knowing the train wreck of despair that the Second Kingdom had made of her life. Instead, she would execute him on the spot, his head filled with the same delusions and falsities that he had spent his life concocting. The irony was delicious.
That, and she had already wasted too much time to give a monologue, anyway. The guards would be doing their rounds soon.
“Sorry, but your fate is sealed. Blueblood’s orders,” said Pumpkin Cake. She placed the list from Fancy Pants inside of her saddlebag, and then her horn lit up as she prepared his execution.
Pumpkin had never actually ripped out a pony’s heart before. It seemed rather barbaric to her, but that was the point: to terrorize the Second Kingdom and ensure another pony didn’t simply rise up to take Fancy Pants’ place. Simply shooting him in the head? Too predictable, too painless, easily forgotten. But ripping his heart out? It would be talked about for centuries.
His chest turned intangible, and she felt around through his internal organs with her magic like a claw crane at an arcade until she finally found the prize: soft, squishy, and beating, but not for long. She yanked on it, but ended up just pulling Fancy Pants’ entire body forward, out of his chair, and on top of his desk, his heart still inside his chest. He passed out and slumped onto the desktop, seemingly lifeless, though his heart was still beating so it was just from shock.
Pumpkin realized her error: she hadn’t made the opening big enough for the heart to fit through. Come to find out, pony hearts were a lot bigger than she had thought, and she lamented not having planned this part out better. Perhaps she should have rehearsed this beforehoof on a corpse. Oh well, she’d just try again--
Suddenly, Fancy Pants disappeared in a flash of light.
Pumpkin’s head jolted as she turned around. He couldn’t have teleported out of the room since the door was shut. Indeed, he was next to the door, about five meters away. He was still slumped over, unconscious, so Pumpkin wondered how he had managed to teleport.
She turned to walk towards him, but a hoof whacked her in the back of the head. Her gun clanked to the floor and stars blinded her vision as she nearly blacked out, until she turned intangible to protect herself from her attacker. But then she did, and she looked back towards whoever had hit her.
Nopony was there. She and Fancy Pants were the only ponies inside the office. She floated there like a specter for a few seconds until she realized that her attacker must be invisible. No matter. The assassination would go on; she would simply do it while intangible. She approached Fancy Pants, floating at about half a meter per second, the quickest pace she could manage with levitation magic. It was the only way she could move while intangible, without solid hooves to touch the ground.
Just as she was close to him, he disappeared again. She turned and saw that he was now behind his desk, next to the window. The invisible attacker was just going to keep teleporting him around the room just out of her reach, she figured. So, she turned to plan B: just shoot him, since the bullet would turn solid as soon as it left the gun barrel. But she couldn’t find her gun. She called out a curse word which made no sound.
A mare’s voice spoke. “The invisible versus the intangible. Looks like we’re at an impasse, Pumpkin Cake.”
The voice knew her name. Her eyes widened in surprise.
The voice chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t care how often you change your hair color, but when you use that spell, you might as well wear a nametag that says, ‘Hello, my name is Pumpkin Cake, how can I kill you today?’ It’s a dead giveaway. Though I admit, you even had me fooled there for a second, and I honestly thought that Fancy Pants really was being killed for treason. But I had my doubts Blueblood would send a hitmare so young, and once you shielded yourself with that spell, I knew for certain.
“Now, I gotta say, your assassination plan was brilliant… you know, up until the whole ‘killing the target’ step. Tearing a pony’s heart out? What is this, a Daring Do novel? You should have just used a bullet, and your plan would have worked, but I guess that serial killers like you never take the easy route, huh? No, bullets are what well-adjusted, normal ponies do, and you’re anything but normal.
“Like all serial killers, you want your murders to have pizazz, that signature Pumpkin Cake flair. It’s just like how you killed Trixie Lulamoon: in a gruesome way nopony else but you could’ve done. And hey, as a pony who often kills in style herself, I can respect that. Protip, though: the more complex your plan, the more that can go wrong. When you pulled Fancy forward out of his chair during your failed heart-wrenching, you gave me room to get out from under the desk and subdue you.”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. At first, she had thought that this mare was Fancy Pants’ bodyguard or something, but then why had she been under the desk? After pondering for a moment, Pumpkin realized there could only have been one reason, and it sure wasn’t to shine his horseshoes! She giggled inaudibly.
The voice became annoyed. “Oh, grow up. So you caught Fancy Pants with his fancy pants down. Big deal, we all have needs. At least my need isn’t to take ponies’ hearts… well, not literally. Metaphorically though, his heart is mine, and I can’t let you have it, Pumpkin Cake; that would be stealing.”
Pumpkin visibly shuddered at the idea of two fascists in love, particularly ones who must have been in their sixties. Ew and gross.
The voice concluded in a braggadocious fashion, “I have your gun. Now, I know that you can’t stay intangible forever, just as I can’t stay invisible forever, but I’ve been training in magic since before you were a twinkle in mommy and daddy’s eyes, so I’ll bet that my timer is a lot longer than yours. I don’t want to kill you, because I think that between said parents’ deaths and being tortured by Trixie, you’ve suffered enough. So why don’t you just phase through the wall and go float on, okay? Quit being a serial killer and get help. See a shrink or something.”
The invisible mare’s words hung in the air for a moment, floating just like Pumpkin Cake. She was flabbergasted. Even if she were tangible and able to speak, she didn’t know what she’d say. So, having been both physically and verbally vanquished, she did as the voice said and teleported away to safety.
“Hey, wake up.”
Fancy Pants grunted and moaned, turning his head over. Amethyst Star planted a single kiss on his cheek. That got his attention, and he lifted his head off the desk. Back when he had felt his heart being squeezed by that young mare, he had thought for sure that he was dead. But apparently, not today.
“That was Pumpkin Cake, Fancy,” said a now-visible Agent Sparkler. “I guess she’s out on some sort of revenge killing spree. Can’t really blame her, after what Trixie put her through.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “Good gracious! That was Pumpkin Cake?”
Sparkler nodded. “Yeah! How come you couldn’t tell? I mean, I was under the desk where I couldn’t see, so at least I have an excuse, but you were staring her right in the face! Different mane and coat color, but still, you have a bunch of wanted posters of her face hanging all over the town!”
Fancy Pants shrugged. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Amethyst, but I was in fear for my life, and wasn’t quite thinking straight. I apologize that I gave her that list, but it was a saving throw.”
Sparkler sighed. “Well, that list was for you to give to Blueblood to further prove your loyalty to him, right before you kill him. But I guess that I can just write up a new list, since I memorized all the names on it. I’m not too worried that Pumpkin Cake has the original, since there’s little she can do with it.”
“Indeed, whose names were on that list?” asked Fancy Pants. “You never told me.”
“It was on a need-to-know basis, and you didn’t need to know,” Sparkler quipped. “But now that you ask: ponies who wanted to join the underground against the Second Kingdom in Mareicopa.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “Why would you give me a list of real partisans to give to Blueblood? Don’t we need them?”
Sparkler shook her head. “Because the partisans on that list all had issues and weren’t good enough to join my group of elites. I’ve been helping to organize the resistance here in Mareicopa, remember? I vet them all to make sure they’re kosher. Even after the Second Kingdom is kicked out of Copa, we’ll still need good ponies in this city to restore the local government and smoothly transition this city back into Equestrian rule of law. The ponies on the list Cake took were gung-ho about the ‘kicking out the Second Kingdom’ part, but they weren’t so gung-ho about the whole ‘back to Equestria afterwards’ part.
“Equestria doesn’t need lukewarm, armed ponies in this city when we get it back; there will already be enough ponies upset over the reintroduction of the magic laws. I figure, let Blueblood’s intelligence service get rid of some of those ponies for us, and you get a nice little feather in your loyalty cap for giving him those names. Win-win. All of the true partisans, who are Equestrian loyalists to the bone, were not on that list or any other list that I have given you.”
Fancy Pants nodded. “Not very forthright of you, though I’m not one to criticize treachery, seeing as how I am the master of it.”
Sparkler chuckled, putting her arm around Fancy Pants and giving him another peck on the cheek. “You’re fancy and mysterious. But now I’m worried about your safety. You can’t stay here; Pumpkin Cake might come back and try to kill you again soon. I doubt she’d fail a second time. With that spell, she can follow you anywhere, and can become invincible. It was pure dumb luck that I stopped her plan this time. Our only hope is to get you inside of an electrified faraday cage that she can’t just phase through.”
“Like the one in the Magical Research Department basement?” asked Fancy Pants.
Sparkler gazed off into the distance. “That would be perfect, actually… but wait, no. Pumpkin knows about that one. How long would it take her to figure out that, after she tried to kill you, we moved you to the one place in Mareicopa specifically designed to stop her intangibility spell? And then how long would it take for her to cut the power and infiltrate it?”
Fancy Pants sighed. “Good observation. And it would take at least a week to put up a faraday cage anyplace else. The only other places in the Second Kingdom that I can think of with such anti-magic cages are the dangerous convict cells of the maximum security prison, which I can’t stay in for obvious reasons, and also--”
“Blueblood’s bunker,” they both said simultaneously.
Fancy Pants shook his head. “But I wasn’t going to leave to go to Blueblood’s bunker until when I was going to kill him at the end of the month. He won’t be pleased if I take a trip to see him in Canterlot without having finished the internment first. In fact, he specifically excused me from every one of our minister meetings in Canterlot until it’s finished; that’s how important it is to him that I dedicate all of my effort to this.”
Sparkler shrugged. “We could use a few more weeks; it’s true, but you’ve just had an assassination attempt. Of all ponies, I think Blueblood would understand that. Besides, you’ve already rounded up 50,000 earth ponies and pegasi. That was the minimum, right?”
“Yes,” said Fancy Pants.
“Then just tell him that you have competent ponies in Mareicopa who can take the internment from here, but that you had to come hunker in the bunker with him due to a threat on your life,” said Sparkler. “Even if he does resent it, once you give him that big list of partisans, he will be pleased with you again. As long as he doesn’t say anything bad about you to anypony else before you kill him.”
“And now when will I do that?” asked Fancy Pants.
Sparkler nodded. “We’re moving the plan forward. Carry it out within a day of getting to his bunker.”
Fancy Pants raised an eyebrow. “But you said that I’d leave from here as soon as possible, so that means that I’ll kill him…”
“Tomorrow, yes.”
Pumpkin Cake sat inside Trixie’s house, laying down on the bed as she stared up at the ceiling. There were so many questions running through her mind. Who was that invisible pony? How did she know so much about her? How could she have been so stupid as to not plan out her assassination better?
Of course, those were the strategic questions. There were also questions about what the invisible mare had said about her personally. Was Pumpkin really a mentally deranged serial killer like the invisible mare said? No way, she thought, recalling the Detective Cold Case novel about the serial killer.
Serial killers usually killed more than three ponies over several years. She had only killed--well, dozens; she’d lost count. But that couldn’t just be it, because then every soldier on the battlefield would be a serial killer, and they obviously weren’t. She had only killed due to the war, and wartime didn’t count, did it? If not for the war, she’d be a regular high schooler more concerned with grades than genocide. Surely Pumpkin wouldn’t kill in peacetime, but serial killers were killers because something was wrong with them, and they’d kill even during peacetime.
Serial killers had a pathological need to kill, an uncontrollable desire, and it was a vice that they derived joy from--then Pumpkin thought back to when she had killed Trixie, partly out of wanting to escape from captivity, true, but also partly out of a wish to simply see her dead. She thought of how she relished in Fancy Pants dying thinking that he was a worthless propaganda minister. Did that venture beyond mere assassination into killing-for-fun territory? No, she thought. Roller coasters were fun, magic was fun, but killing ponies? Not so much. It did still bother her to kill, and if not for her sleep spell, she would suffer many restless nights from it. True serial killers had no reservations, no questions about what they did.
Besides, she didn’t meet the biggest serial killer red flag from the Cold Case novels: a lack of empathy. True, she was less empathetic than Pound, but she still cared for others and was no sociopath. She was only continuing to kill out of care for others, in fact, were it not for wanting to stop the internment of earth ponies and pegasi, she’d be content to never kill again. Also, serial killers usually had no friends, whereas Pumpkin did. She’d had friends in Ponyville. She’d had friends in Appleloosa. She didn’t have any friends now, true, but she’d only been out of captivity for a few weeks.
She levitated Fancy Pants’ list out of the saddlebag. There were dozens of names and addresses on it. Fancy Pants said that all of these ponies were partisans and traitors to the Second Kingdom. Pumpkin would fit right in. So she’d follow Pound’s advice.
“Time to make some friends.”
Aunt and Uncle Orange and Peachy Pitt were seated at their dining room table in Manehattan, enjoying scrumptious meals of saldade a l'orange. Opposite them on the long table, there sat Jet Set and Upper Crust, wine glasses levitating in their magic.
Uncle Orange tapped a wine glass with a spoon. “This meeting of the Minds and Markets Club has come to order,” he said.
“Hear, hear,” said Aunt Orange.
Uncle Orange grabbed a sheet of paper from the table, glanced down at it, and said, “Now, our agenda for discussion… Winston, could you fetch my reading glasses?”
“Why do you two always have to be so formal?” asked Peachy Pitt. “Can’t we just have a normal discussion and let the conversation flow naturally? I know that they’re business associates, but Jetty and Crusty are long-time friends of the family, too.”
The unicorn couple nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps a less-structured meeting would be best,” said Jet Set. “I’m more for synergizing and a meeting of the minds, and less for formality. We can always come back to your list if we miss a topic.”
Uncle Orange groaned. “Very well then; let us just go from topic to topic, grazing on whatever suits our fancy like cattle in the field.”
“Be civil, dear,” said Aunt Orange.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Jet Set asked, “How goes the Second Kingdom? Are we assured a perpetual adversary, so JSUC Munitions can keep selling weapons and warplanes?”
“Well, they’re willing to round up and perhaps kill tens of thousands of earth ponies and pegasi so they won’t have to surrender, so you tell me,” said Peachy Pitt, chuckling. “I think they’re going to be around for a long time.”
Jet Set and Upper Crust smiled. “That’s wonderful news for us,” said Upper Crust. “Though, obviously, not for those earth ponies and pegasi.”
“Or for the unicorns who could starve this winter,” said Peachy Pitt in between bites of her orange salad. “Not all of them have rich earth pony relatives with nice penthouses that they can go chow down at.”
Aunt Orange let out a chuckle. Uncle Orange grinned slightly at his niece. Despite Peachy Pitt’s commoner parlance, she had a quirky sense of humor which sometimes breached even the Oranges’ upper-class facade.
“Though they hopefully wouldn’t starve, I should think,” said Uncle Orange. “Despite that pegasus’ salting of our mechanized Flatlands farms, Orange Incorporated may be able to realize windfall profits. Our board of directors in in agreement here. Starving ponies will have to pay any food price we set, after all, and their hunger will trump their racism. Are those stealth transport planes ready, Jet Set?”
He nodded. “Upper Crust and I have been running the production lines at full capacity, and with any luck, you should be able to fly crates of oranges and wheat to the Second Kingdom without detection from radar. Though we’ve run into a few issues with our union factory workers. The ASDF keeps demanding higher and higher wages for the overtime. If only we could mechanize the process in our factory like you have in those Flatlands farms of yours. Machines can’t unionize.”
“Someday we won’t need those troublesome workers at all, except a token few to oil the gears and monitor the automated lines,” said Upper Crust. “Even those few will be replaced with robots far in the future.”
Aunt Orange chuckled. “You may encounter a few difficulties in that. Why do you think that the Second Kingdom was our testing ground for mechanized farming? Our luddite farmhooves in Manesas started burning down our crop fields a few years ago when there was even a rumor of automation. Those simpletons think that the ‘earth pony way’ is to toil away with a hoof-pulled plow all of your days until dying of exhaustion. But we think the earth pony way is to make a profit and work with our minds and machines, not our muscles.”
“Hear, hear,” said Uncle Orange. “The Second Kingdom had to automate, because they had no earth ponies, and wanted to grow their own food to escape the Equestrian food tariffs. Necessity is the mother of invention. Flim and Flam were mechanical geniuses but otherwise idiots, making them useful puppets, and they provided the perfect shell corporation for us as earth ponies to reap the Flatlands profits without Blueblood’s knowledge.”
“When they died, it passed to me,” said Peachy Pitt. “The unicorn-run farms were supposed to out-produce even the Equestrian farms, proving to investors the need for mechanical tractors and harvesters in Equestrian farms as well. Our snag is the pegasus. We’ve tried killing him several times, but he’s hung on. But with the Oranges’ plan to sell the Second Kingdom our food using me as a unicorn cover, the SK should be able to make it through the winter, and the Oranges will recoup their profits. I don’t know if the war will continue, though. From what I’ve heard at the meetings, the SK may try to sign another truce and use the time to regroup.”
Upper Crust shrugged. “An unsteady peace with the looming threat of war from an intact Second Kingdom is still better for business than a reunited Equestria. Cold wars drum up arms sales almost as much as hot ones do, as shown in the last ceasefire. Besides, there is always the west coast theater with the Zebra Empire. That could be left smouldering for years.”
“Did you sell Zaporizhia those planes that the Second Kingdom couldn’t supply?” asked Peachy Pitt.
Jet Set nodded. “Yes. We flew them a few hundred of them east from the JSUC factory in Fillydelphia, circumnavigating the globe until we reached the Zebra Empire. Whatever Zaporizhia needs those planes for, he was desperate, and we charged him billions of ZE m’sukos. Of course, that only converts into a few million EQ bits, but still far better per plane than Equestria would ever pay.”
Peachy Pitt smiled from ear to ear. “That’s a sweet finders’ fee for me!”
Upper Crust smiled back. “Zappo even paid us wholly in cash. The money will be transferred to your account as soon as we can launder it through the zebra mafia in Tall Tale. Hopefully not more than a few weeks, though there’s been a disruption in business with the riots over there.”
“Yeah, I hear Tall Tale is a wreck, and they’re predicting more trouble after the court ruling comes out. Glad I live in Canterlot!” Peachy Pitt exclaimed.
Aunt Orange shifted in her chair. “Just so long as those planes aren’t turned against us, or used to kill Equestrians.”
“All of our facilities are on the east coast in Fillydelphia. Tall Tale and the entire west coast can burn to the ground or fall to the zebras as long as it means more arms sales. Our primary duty is to our shareholders, not to Tall Tale. Profits first. The war must continue,” said Jet Set.
“We have no interests that far west, either. Though we attempted to acquire Berry Punch’s orchards, we could not agree on a price,” said Uncle Orange. “The west coast can fall.”
“Perfect, then. To perpetual war and perpetual profit!” proclaimed Upper Crust. The five all raised their glasses in a toast, clinking them together and taking a drink.
Off in the corner was a single fancy suit of pony armor. It had become a boiling kettle of rage as Applejack stood inside, gnashing her teeth and trying her absolute best not to burst out and kick over the table for the lies and betrayal of her family. Beads of condensation formed on the metal facemask, and she was almost sure that steam was probably coming out from the ears on the suit.
Applejack’s family, ponies that she had trusted her entire life, were conspiring to make profit off of the suffering of other ponies. They were fomenting war and starvation to earn blood money, all while pretending to love her. It hurt more than anything else she had ever heard in her life.
But now, at least, she had proof for Twilight Sparkle. The top business executives and barons of Equestria were colluding behind the scenes, endangering Equestria and the lives of countless ponies with their recklessness, putting profits ahead of ponies. These were even the advisors that were on Twilight’s own economic council. They were probably giving her bad advice that could put the war effort in danger, and Twilight didn’t even know that she and Equestria were being swindled.
The last rays of the afternoon sun shone down on the grasslands of the continent of Zebrica. Crickets chirped as the wind blew through the tall grass. Rocks and the occasional tree were strewn about the otherwise flat savannah. High above the ground, Gilda the griffon soared through the air, her keen predator eyes taking in every single detail. She could see a mouse or rattlesnake rustle in the bushes from far above, though she was after larger prey.
She came across a small zebra village: the town of Poleka. Most of the buildings were huts made out of mud and straw. The great industrialization in the cities of the Zebra Empire hadn’t spread to the country. A fire was lit in the town center, with zebras sitting around it, singing and chatting. Mothers and children were standing at the pond outside of the village, taking drinks. Several zebras were out in the grasslands, grazing.
No zebra saw or heard her coming. Griffon wings were as quiet as a falling leaf. Her target, an elderly zebra stallion sitting on his front porch smoking a pipe, did not even realize. He was only aware of the pain for a second as her razor-sharp talons pierced his skull, scrambling his brain. Just as a young zebra colt had noticed Gilda, calling out in shock in the zebra tongue, she had already ascended into the air.
Some of the griffons just didn’t care. They’d snatch young children while they played in the yard, or they wouldn’t properly ensure their victims were dead, instead leaving them alive and terrified on the flight back to the Nest. Gilda wasn’t like that. She was a predator, true, but only because she had to be. She at least tried to take the oldest zebras who had lived full lives, or the injured ones who were on death’s door anyway, and make their death as easy as possible.
Regardless, she didn’t like having to eat sentient beings in order to survive. She’d much rather live off of oats and apples like her pony friends in Equestria. But that just wasn’t enough to support a three-hundred kilogram killing machine, even one that didn’t want to be a killing machine. Griffons needed huge volumes of protein that they could only get from meat.
“Herbivore” griffons would slowly rot away to nothing. First, their eyesight would go. Then, their talons would fall out. Finally, their bones would crumble, until they eventually died. It was a months-long, agonizing process, and only the most moralistic griffons undertook it, who were unwilling to either kill living creatures or commit suicide out of self-hatred for their own wretched existence. The rest, like her, simply had to live with who they were.
Thousands of years ago, griffons used to prey on ponies in Equestria, back when the three pony tribes were still apart. Once the tribes were united under Celestia and Luna, the princesses demanded that the griffons never hunt in Equestria again. After all, the princesses reasoned, they were raising sun and moon for the entire world, so the least that the griffons could do in return would be to leave their little ponies alone and go hunt in another country. With the three tribes united, they presented a formidable defense against predation. Either the magic of the unicorns, or the flight and weather of the pegasi, or the strength of the earth ponies could be overcome by itself… but not when the tribes were working together with these skills in harmony.
So the griffons resettled to the continent of Zebrica, where they tried to find new prey. They decided on zebras, because all of the other potential game in Zebrica didn’t work. The dingoes were vicious, tough to kill, and their meat was too sinewy. The herds of wild gazelles “belonged” to the manticores, who would fight griffons to the death for even looking at “their” prey wrong. Elephants and giraffes were too big. So zebras were the only game in town.
To solve the ethical problem of predation, the griffons had tried animal husbandry, but that had its own problems. How much better was it to kill twenty chickens to get the same meat that was in a single zebra? Chickens were quite smart for farm animals. Some of them could even cluck along at kindergarten level conversations. There wasn’t a moral exchange rate for different species’ lives like there was for foreign currency, so who was to decide how many chickens equalled a zebra? Some griffons said “five” and ate only zebras; some said “fifty” and ate only chickens. Some just didn’t care because they liked variety in their diet. Lots of meat tasted just like chicken, but not zebra flesh.
Cows, pigs, and goats were even worse because they were more clever than chickens, and they could comprehend their mortality. The few cattle ranches in the griffon lands more resembled slave labor camps than the free-range dairy farms in Equestria, where all that was expected of them was milk. Turns out that cattle would do anything and everything in their power to escape being slaughtered and served as steak, so they had to be shackled.
At least the zebras that Gilda ate had gotten to live a full and free life, and were never tortured. At least she wasn’t responsible for the death of dozens of chickens a week, instead only killing one zebra, the meat from which could easily last her a week. It was small comfort given what she still had to do, but griffons had long learned the mental gymnastics of predation.
The zebras, though, had never been pleased about it. For many centuries, they had been easy prey, as their only defenses were flint spears and their potion-making skills. Oh, and that thing that they did where they all grouped together and their stripes blended into an ocean in which no one zebra can be distinguished from another. Perhaps that trick worked on colorblind predators, but griffons could see the entire rainbow, and Gilda had never once failed to catch a zebra simply because he was standing in a group.
But when firearms had been invented a couple of centuries ago, it leveled the playing field somewhat. At first it had just been primitive blunderbusses and muskets, which were easy enough for skilled hunters to avoid. But with the advent of machine guns a few decades ago, griffons on the hunt would often be killed themselves. It had become harder to hunt the zebras, who found themselves with extra breathing room now that their population wasn’t being constantly thinned by the griffons.
The zebra population ballooned to ten million, their economy and technology improved, and they developed a navy under Zaporizhia’s leadership, but it wasn’t until the alliance with the Second Kingdom that the Zebra Empire truly became a global power. Blueblood provided Zaporizhia with cutting-edge planes to fight the griffons, and in return, Zaporizhia provided Blueblood with an attack on the west coast of Equestria to spread the Equestrians’ forces over two fronts.
The griffons had never considered themselves at war before; they merely saw zebra as prey, not belligerents. After all, griffons only hunted when they needed to eat, whereas wars were just killing over political disputes, which griffons considered wasteful. All that good meat, shot up with bullet holes and blown apart by bombs instead of being in their bellies. But Zaporizhia saw their hunting as an act of war, and started attacking griffon nests to stop them from eating his people. At that point, predator versus prey had turned into a shooting war.
Though the Zebra army outnumbered the griffon army five to one, the griffons had air superiority, better training, and better weapons. They fought the Zebra army to a standstill on many occasions, stopping every single significant advance that they tried to make into the griffon nests. But the griffons were reluctant to fight anything other than a defensive war, and had been locked in a stalemate for many years. If they launched a successful offensive but killed too many zebras, it would cost them a potential future food source, after all. Griffons were conservationists and tried to live at one with nature. They used every part of every animal they killed, not wasting anything.
But Zaporizhia was so determined, he would fight the griffons down to the last zebra, and every Zebra citizen was eligible for the draft. So the griffons found it best to fight to a stalemate, and since Zaporizhia was fighting on another front against Equestria as well, he couldn’t give the griffons too much trouble.
Gilda was one of the last griffons in her neighborhood to hunt zebras, since the war had made it so dangerous. But she was a skilled hunter and was confident in her ability to dodge bullets and catch prey even in a warzone. In a way, the warzone made hunting easier, since some of the zebras had gotten complacent, and thought that they wouldn’t be snatched up by a griffon during a war.
She soared back towards the tall, brown cliffs off in the distance. Atop them were giant nests made of broken tree limbs, sticks, straw, and other items. Griffons didn’t do modern construction like ponies or zebras, preferring to live sustainably with items found in nature. Zebrica was warm enough to where they could sleep under the stars without freezing, and there was little rain to fall on them in their open-topped nests.
Gilda returned to her nest, located in a crag about a kilometer up. She was the only griffon inside, and she sighed at how much room there was without a mate. Though she had looked, she hadn’t found a suitable partner, and her biological clock was ticking, driving her to it. Though her body said yes, her brain said no. Who would want to raise a young hatchling in such a world? Twenty years ago, sure, but now, with the planet torn apart by wars in Zebrica and Equestria? Even the ethical quandaries of predation were enough to make her consider not reproducing, and that was a peacetime problem.
Laying the zebra down, she gathered some firewood from the nest to start a fire. She would have to set it down next to the nest, because the dry branches and twigs that made it up were quite flammable.
As she kindled a fire, the crackling of the burgeoning flames mixed with the droning of military planes. She gazed off in the sky.
Hundreds of Zebra Empire planes were approaching, overwhelming the meager griffon guards that hovered at the edge of their territory. Though the griffons tried to shoot the pilots with small arms, these planes appeared to be newer, faster models that even rivaled the griffons in speed and maneuverability. The bullets bounced harmlessly off of the cockpits, and the guns on the sides strafed the griffon soldiers.
They’d need to use larger caliber weapons. But the anti-aircraft batteries on the ground were overwhelmed in a matter of minutes, as a wave of thousands and thousands of zebras with torches descended upon the gunners. It seemed as though every zebra in that part of Zebrica was there.
In fact, with her keen eye, Gilda noticed several zebra civilians from the little village of Poleka, some that she had been scoping out for future dinners. There were women and children amongst the crowd. The gunners were reluctant to shoot at so many zebras, particularly civilians, and the zebra stallions of the crowd took advantage of their hesitation, picking off the gunners with small arms fire.
The planes continued, soaring past the distracted anti-aircraft defenses. Gilda barely even had time to grab her valuable possessions and depart her nest, because the planes were soon right up next to the cliffs. Dozens of bright red cartridges fell from the sides, scattering all over the base of the cliffs. At first, Gilda thought they were bombs, but they didn’t explode when they hit the ground. Rather, the tops cracked open, and a sinister hissing filled the air like a rattlesnake.
From high up in the air where she soared, she saw a wave of death descend on the cliffs, starting at the bottom and working its way up. Griffons at the lowest levels of the nest didn’t even have time to wake up; in fact, many of them were asleep for the evening. They spasmed and coughed uncontrollably, seizing on the ground. Dozens of them, some of them her friends and acquaintances.
Gilda flew as far away from the chemical attack as she could as the planes continued to drop more and more nerve gas bombs. As she flew, her racing mind tried to process what she had just seen as she crossed the ocean towards Equestria to the east.
The next day, Gilda was staying the night at Cloudsdale. Griffons were welcome in Equestria and the Cloud Confederacy so long as they didn’t hunt there, and she sometimes came to visit some of her old friends here that she had made when she had been a flight school exchange student.
While in the hotel lobby trying to eat a nutritionally-deficient continental breakfast of pastries and crunchy oat cereal with milk, she had no appetite. She simply swirled the spoon around in the bowl, gazing off into space.
For perhaps the tenth time, her eyes returned to the table to scan that morning’s copy of the Cloudsdale Courier. Every time she looked at it, she expected to snap back to her nest, under her zebra fur blankets, waking from a dream. But this was real.
The headline read, “Fifty Thousand Griffons Dead in Gassing. Griffon Chancellor Surrenders to Zaporizhia, Predation Banned.”
Thousands and thousands of zebras packed the streets of Jalutso, the zebra capital. Dancers wearing grass skirts and golden jewelry frolicked in the streets, as a procession of military vehicles passed by. Zebras waved to the soldiers as the soldiers tossed out candy into the streets, and zebra fillies and colts rushed to the sidewalks to grab it. The sound of music filled the air, as zebras sung traditional call-and-response folk songs. The only time that the crowd was quiet was when the zebra clerics and holy stallions passed by.
Bringing up the rear of the procession was Zaporizhia. He wore a crown of gold studded with rubies and sapphires, and a purple cloak. Unlike Blueblood, he had no protection other than a few bodyguards, instead waving out from the top of his open-air car as it drove along.
“Thank you, my subjects!” he called out. Zebras rushed along after his car, trying to touch his hoof, which was said to have healing powers. But his bodyguards stood in their way.
Finally, the procession came to a stop before the zimbabwe, the zebra capitol building. It was thousands of years old, made of stones that had been chiseled to fit together perfectly without mortar or other bindings. The steps were all made of the same stone, and had been worn down to be as smooth as marble from millions of hoofsteps over generations.
Zaporizhia and his entourage of guards and clerics exited from the vehicle as the crowd gathered to hear him speak. His voice was gravelly and deep, which conveyed comfort when he whispered, and fear when he shouted.
“My dear zebras! Today is a prophetic and gloooooorious day!” he shouted, lengthening his vowels. He held his hoof to the sky.
“Praise be!” a million zebras shouted back in unison.
“Thousands of years ago, the Princesses of Equestria set the griffon menace upon our fair continent, where our people were left helpless as they were preyed upon! Husbands were separated from their wives! Mothers and fathers were separated from their children! Our children had to play insiiiiide so they wouldn’t disappear! All of this to feed their demonic hunger for flesh!”
The crowd booed.
“But the glorious hoof of GOD delivered a prophecy! Thousands of years ago, Zhytomir 4:92 proclaimed, ‘And all of the nations of the world will conspiiiiire against the chosen people, and God will deliver unto them a holy representative who shall reunite the chosen ones under Him! Through Him, the chosen one shall smiiiiite the wicked ones down, where they shall burn forever in the bed of flaaaaaames their own sin has made for them!”
“Praise be!” the crowd called back.
“Today, that prophecy has been fulfilled, and the Griffon Chancellor has bowed dooooown before the might of Zaporizhia, the representative of GOD on earth! Never again shall the chosen ones be feasted upon by griffons!”
“Praise be!”
“But our work is not done! For Zarathisima 7:31 further prophesies, ‘The Chosen One shall bring together the floooock, which is held in slavery and captivity in faraway places, straying from the teachings of God! God’s chosen zebra people shall be united even across vast rivers, oceans, and mountains!’”
“Praise be!”
“The cities of Tall Tale and Vanhoover contain millions of zebras who are held in oppression by the eeeeevil princesses and ponies who first set the griffons upon us thousands of years ago, in their own cowardice! They lock up the zebras for being God’s chosen people, for wearing his chosen stripes, out of their suspicion and distrust! But the prophecy is cleeeear! The army of the Zebra Empire, the chosen army of GOD, shall take Tall Tale and Vanhoover from the cowards and reunite the nation of the chosen people! And now, with their griffon attack dogs defeated, we shall turn the full force of our armies towards Equestria! Our great holy war now has but one front left to win!"
“PRAISE BE!”
Pumpkin: If she knew the truth of what she had almost done, she would flip. Thankfully, she had listened to reasons. Now, however, she is on another mission, another one with flaw information that might or might not backfire on her. Girl need to learn to gather Intel better, before she jump the gun without the right info, otherwise it is going to come back to haunt her, badly.
The Orange: Well, the truth about them have finally been confirmed. And, once Twilight find out that her own advisors is currently betraying her as well, combined that with what Zarek had said about the corruption of high officials and everything else, we might be seeing some positive character developments and changes coming very soon. Hopefully, if it does happen, that it keeps up its momentum.
The Zebra Empire: Oh boy, things are not looking good on this side. Now that there are no distraction anymore, and with some added motivations, we got ourselves a bunch of zealous religious fanatics coming full force upon Equestria. Things is just getting more and more chaotic as the chapters continue to be produce.
5546999 Intel gathering is difficult when you're just one pony and have limited time and resources to work with. True, Pumpkin can walk through walls and could probably infiltrate some filing cabinets or whatever, but how would she have found out about Fancy Pants being a turncoat? I doubt he has that written down anywhere.
Her mission is to stop the internment as soon as possible. The most effective way to for her to do that is to spread terror among the Second Kingdom's leadership. In my eyes, Pumpkin's biggest mistake was that she didn't just flat out shoot Fancy Pants in the head when she had the chance. (And good for his sake!) Instead, she went for a showy slaughter that didn't end up working out. Now granted, if it had worked out, it would have been a lot more effective at spreading terror than a mere bullet, but as Sparkler pointed out, the more complicated a plan, the more that can go wrong with it. Though to be perfectly fair to Pumpkin Cake, the particular way in which her plan was foiled was one that she never could have seen coming.
As for the partisans, I think that Pumpkin has to get allies to have any hope of stopping the internment, and Fancy Pants just gave her a list of like-minded ponies. How could she not take advantage of that? Though whether or not that plan bears fruit remains to be seen, and next chapter we will see some of the ponies who are on that list.
This has to be my favorite chapter so far. So much tension... I actually thought Pumpkin was going to totally ruin the assassination plan by offing Fancy Pants.
So Equestria is planning to reintroduce the magic laws? That's quite an ass thing to do. And I bet it would be next to impossible as well, since millions of unicorns now know these formerly forbidded spells and would likely resist any magical restrictions. And even if public shools would stop teaching the spells, parents could always teach their children in the privacy of their homes.
I kind of hope Blueblood dies but the Second Kingdom remains independent from Equestria, which is pretty far gone by now. Pumpkin for princess! She seems to be a filly who has the determination to oppose both the idiotic Equestrian laws and SK's genocidal racism.
It was nice to finally see the Zebra Empire as well. Now I picture Zaporizhia as some kind of crazed televangelist...
Finally, I found one small mistake: "Gilda was one of the last ponies in her neighborhood to hunt zebras"
5548986
Glad you liked the chapter! The Fancy Pants confrontation was one of my favorite scenes to write in the whole story. It allowed me to take something that was almost a foregone conclusion and turn it into a humiliating reality check for Pumpkin Cake. Talk about snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. She should have just shot him. Though good for the assassination plan of Blueblood plan that she didn't!
Equestria has those magic laws in place for what they believe to be good reasons. For instance, the Want-It, Need-It spell was banned because ponies were using it for nefarious purposes like scammers selling junk that ponies don't really want, or pedophiles luring children into their homes. Other spells like dark magic or time travel are similarly restricted due to fear of misuse. (I'd imagine that, if Pumpkin's intangibility spell were more common, there would be laws against that, too, because as seen it has loads of potential for misuse.) But all of those spells can also have good, constructive uses. A spell is neither good nor evil, but it's how a unicorn uses it. Apparently though, the princess' cost-benefit analysis indicates that it's not worth it to allow those spells.
If Equestria got back Mareicopa or Canterlot, they couldn't allow them exceptions to the law, because then ponies would just go there to learn those spells and come back to the rest of Equestria, the whole "magic tourism" thing that was mentioned in chapter 36. But you're definitely right that Blueblood has opened up a can of worms by allowing that magic to be freely studied and used.
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I think she is a bit too young to be princess, and a bit too mentally damaged, but on the other hand, maybe a pony like her would be hesitant to take her nation to war because of her own experiences. It's easy enough for Twilight to command ponies from afar and order a zebra internment, without ever having gone through it herself.
And she's not the only one, judging by Sparkler's comments. We'll get to see who is on that list of "not loyal to Equestria enough" partisans that she has in the next chapter. You might be surprised...
This was an exciting chapter, I was pretty sure right until the end of the scene that you were going to JRR Martin Fancy Pants. Glad to see he survived, and I love the reason why he survived, Sparkler Pants is adorable! I really hope this goes better for Fancy Pants than it did for Tom Cruise.
I guess Pumpkin is a little unsure of herself, as a teenager. To me it's pretty clear she's a political assassin, not a serial killer, Fancy Pants is just really good at getting into other pony's heads.
Good to hear the Minds and Markets Club come clean with that exposition-y dialogue. Are they based on the Business Plot that Butler testified about? I have read a lot of alternate universe stories where Applejack stayed in Manehatten to be raised by the Oranges, and I shudder to think how she would have turned out with these Oranges! I doubt you can really feed an entire nation by food that is transported by air power, but I can definitely see how they are making a ton of money at this scheme. Like all your readers, I can't wait to see Twilight's reaction when she finds out.
That thing with Gilda and the Griffons was awesome, they're kind of like changlings in this story, virtually forced to prey on sentient food. I can understand a lot more why so many Zebras worship Zaporizhia, if he elevated them from a prey animal to the dominant species. These people are led by their prophet, even if a resounding peace between Equestria and the 2nd Kingdom happens tomorrow, that Zebrica invasion is still going to happen.
5549472 The Oranges and JSUC was more based off of the military-industrial complex in general than any one single event. I suspect that these sorts of backroom conversations happen all the time. Though it does bear some similarity to the Butler Business Plot and to the Iran-Contra scandal. And yeah it will be very hard for them to get all of the necessary food to the Second Kingdom just through air delivery alone. But if they could only feed one or two million and still keep the Second Kingdom alive, that's what they're aiming for.
Plus, as General Top Brass mentioned in a prior chapter, the SKAF might still be able to capture some Equestrian grain silos. This is particularly true after the resounding defeat of the Equestrian forces in the San Palomino desert north of Mareicopa, many of which had been rotated from containing the unicorn army in the Flatlands and keeping them from spreading to Manesas or Neighbraska, the adjacent Equestrian farming states.
I wonder if Blueblood will give the earth ponies and Pegasus prisoners to the Griffons in exchange for help in the war?
The Fancy Pants bit was good, but the griffon bit was too expositiony I think.
5554578 Glad you like the FP scene, it was one of my favorite to write.
And yeah, I admit that the griffon part was too expositiony.
Part of that is because the role that the Zebra Empire plays in the story has expanded beyond what I had originally planned for them. At first, they were just kind of there on the west coast so that Equestria would be forced to fight on two fronts, and so the Second Kingdom stood a chance in the war even though its army and population was outnumbered six to one by Equestria's. The zebras were never supposed to be examined too closely as protagonists.
But then I started thinking about the reasons that the zebras were involved in the war, and it ballooned past "motiveless allies of the main protagonist" to the complexities of the Zebra Empire, the zebra immigrants in Equestria, the religious worship, the prey vs. predator wars, etc. None of that was even in my original outline, so it kind of evolved organically as the story progressed.
I am planning on re-writing this story soon (after I finish it, probably, which should be in about 100,000 words or so), and perhaps I will include a meeting with Blueblood and Zaporizhia early on in the story, in which they first forge the alliance based around both societies feeling mutually oppressed on their respective continents. Also, based on Blueblood believing that the zebras are the "unicorns of zebrica" due to their magic potion-making skills. It will be explained how Zaporizhia's mission is to wipe out the griffons once and for all to save the "chosen people" from predation, in the form of a conversation with Blueblood. Once I go back and explain that earlier on in the story in a way that feels like natural conversation between two leaders forming an alliance, I can take out a lot of the unnatural, telly exposition that appears in Chapter 37.
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First, I want you to know that I was aware of this during my last post. And second, I knew she would never have known that Fancy Pants was a turncoat, which is why I said that it was fortunate that she was talked out of assassinating him. But, regardless of the situation, getting the right Intel is always important, and rushing through the whole mess like she had just done would have serious consequences, and next time, luck wouldn't be able to get her out of it. Hopefully, one of the 'allies' (or maybe even Sparkler herself) might be able to help her properly, allow her to get back on track and learn from this whole thing in the process.
I don’t know how to feel about this, and I must admit that it have been kinda rubbing me the wrong way. In some sense, Sparkler is correct on the fact that Pumpkin was acting more like a serial killer than anything remotely good (though, after seeing howard035’s use of ‘political assassin’, that term might be a bit more accurate). Pumpkin’s biggest mistake, in my opinion, would have been acting on rash impulses, rather than thinking things completely through and clear, and that mistake would had faced major consequences afterward if she had succeeded.
You would think so, but not really. Logically speaking, using terror does not stop or even slow down a problem, but rather escalate it. For example, let say she had succeeded in killing him, the most logically conclusion would be for Blueblood and the ‘leadership’ to become more afraid, succeeding in her goal of spreading terror (like you mention). However, instead of stopping or slowing the ‘internment’, all she might have done was get them angry and speed up the process, even going so far as actually carrying through with their threat of killing them. Unfortunately, that won’t be the end of the escalation, as Equestria will most likely mark Pumpkin as a rogue agent and a threat to their mission of defeating Blueblood, so they would have to be force to deal with her appropriately (arresting her or worse). Using terror is never really a good idea, because it is like hitting a bee hive in order to scare them.
I don’t blame poor Pumpkin for her actions in this chapter, since the poor girl is a bit fragile right now, and was actually trying to help out. Personally, I want to hug the poor girl for all the pain and suffering she had to deal with. As for the plan failing, I am grad that it did, and that everyone came out ahead for it. And, as for the partisans, I never said that it wouldn’t be useful, I said that it might or might not backfire on her. Hopefully, it will not.
5558566 I do want to clarify before I respond, that hopefully I didn't sound like I was annoyed with you or smacking you down in my prior post or anything, because I sincerely wasn't. I think that you have made some of the most thoughtful comments I have received on this story, and I really do enjoy seeing your thoughts on it, and hope you will continue to comment here in the future.
You are correct that Pumpkin Cake suffered from not gathering enough intel, and indeed it could have backfired. Let's hope she will learn to adjust her strategy in the future. Terrorism does have many pitfalls, and is one of the riskiest strategies to use in a war. The beehive analogy is quite appropriate in many instances.
As for her actions rubbing you the wrong way, that is a perfectly legitimate way to feel about it. I wrote it in such a way as to where there is a legitimate case to be made for either "serial killer" or "political assassin." In my personal opinion, I would go with "political assassin, but one with a lot of baggage and issues that she had better work on, and probably should be seeing a therapist instead of continuing to fight."
But of course, any of my readers are free to disagree with me, and in fact I welcome differing opinions. I have tried to write the story in such a way to where there are two sides to every issue and no one is 100% right. I just hope that as the story continues, people will continue to be as civil in the comments as they have been thus far. It's easy enough to condone racism or genocide, but I have some interesting ideological schisms planned for the final third of this story, some of which hit close to home, all of which have plenty of grey area.
Anyway, I hope there aren't any hard feelings
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If there was any hard feeling, I had already let it go a long time ago. Honestly, I'm normally not really one to hold onto any hard feelings for long. Heh, so, don't worry about it, and thank for being mature about it, as well as the comments. And, it take a whole lot more than that for me to leave a story...a whole lot more. As far as it goes, you are still doing an awesome job so far with the story.
Also, to let you know, I was more surprised than annoyed. Wasn't really expecting my commenting on the chapter to get that kind of response.
Its tragic really, I won't say that Zaporizhia is "good" but he did what any of us would do if we were hunted(now griffins may become an endangered species), another thing I'm hoping to see is the consciences of Pumpkins actions later (maybe the interment process being sped up in response). Also what is happening in Equestria with Zecoras lawsuit and when will we start seeing more of Twilights absent mindedness and lack of training coming back to bite her in the flank?
5564809 Zecora's lawsuit will be addressed when the court releases its ruling, which is supposed to be about five or six months later from the present time in the story. Twilight will actually be seen in the next chapter.
Fighting, sure. I can see every reason for that. If aliens came to Earth and started hunting us, we'd do everything we could to fight against them.
Chemical weapons? Uh... no. No justification. None. Especially against civilian populations. The Zebra leader is going to go down in history as Stalin to Blueblood's Hitler. Then he also uses child soldiers. There's a reason that chemical warfare is oh so seriously banned. Hitler used it against the Jews because he thought they were sub-human, but there's a reason he didn't use it on the battlefields. He'd been gassed in WWI. He knew what it was like. The whole point of gas is to make the other side suffer. I can see why he did it, because of course he'd want them to suffer, but justified? Nope. Especially since the griffin forces never actually invaded his country on a large scale. They were just content to defend their borders. I'm getting a real "Kim Jung Il/Un" vibe from the Zebra king.
I am troubled by the Zebra religion as displayed in the last few chapters. I hope it is not criticism, direct or indirect, of the Christian faith.
5571954 Zebrism does borrow certain elements from Abrahamic religions, including Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, and it borrows from Shintoism as well. However, its portrayal in this story is not intended to be a direct or indirect attack or criticism on any particular real-world religion. Zebrism should stand or fall on its own merits alone.
The Zebra religion developed in a region of the world where these people were always being eaten by griffons, where they found themselves the prey animal for thousands of years. They could not rely on their strength, nor on the princesses of Equestria, so they turned to their faith for answers. In order to maintain hope for the future, they made prophesies that someday, their time in the sun would come. They believe that god looks favorably on them as his chosen people, and that through him, they would conquer all of their enemies.
This is what kept them going. They had no other choice but to believe in their god and their prophets. How else can a people continue to believe that they have a future when their own children are snatched up from their yards? I couldn't see any other way for them to continue, then for them to rely on religious belief.
If anything, this story demonstrates how their can be a legitimate need for faith, but it also warns against following those like Zaporizhia who are more concerned with maintaining their own power at any costs and will do anything to keep it. He preaches the opposite of "love thy neighbor" that Jesus Christ commanded.
The story also offers plenty of warnings against unbridled scientific atheism. Doctor Stekton, for instance, has no moral scruples about anything that he does in his pursuit of science. Science only tells us what is, not what ought to be. One must rely on an external system of morals for that, whether religious or secular.
5567274 Certainly his actions would be labeled a war crime and an atrocity by most folks alive today, myself included.
I am curious though, and do want to play devil's advocate. If you were the zebra leader, what would you have done to stop the griffons from eating your people?
5572190 Ah. Thank you for answering my question, and for doing so with such a detailed explanation. Forgive me for asking another, though; in preceding chapters, the Emperor was considered to BE a god, or the law and holiness unto himself. Now, though, the perspective seems to have shifted somewhat, so that he is seen as anointed or appointed by a god, but not a deity himself.
In my opinion, I can't help but feel that the Zebras had every right to defend themselves from predation. However, gassing civilian populations was not the way to achieve the goals they wanted. I'm not criticizing the story, just a faction within it. It makes for a juicy story when one can have this kind of strong opinion about it.
5572736 You're quite welcome. I figure that people who read this far deserve detailed explanations of my motivations behind writing what I do, or things that I didn't explain fully in the story. If there's anything else you're curious about, feel free to ask. I could go on forever
In prior chapters, those who said that Zaporizhia claims to be a god himself were sort of over-simplifying the zebra faith, or perhaps they didn't fully understand it. It is a bit more nuanced. Zaporizhia claims to be the representative of god with a direct connection to god who is able to do god's works and miracles in his name. However, he falls a bit short of claiming to be god himself, though I can see how ponies would think and say that "he claims to be a god" if they were unfamiliar with the faith.
Zaporizhia sees the entirety of the griffon race as combatants and complicit in preying on his people, since most of them do consume zebra meat and have hunted for zebras. He wouldn't see a contradiction in gassing griffons like Gilda, since Gilda preys on zebras even though she is not officially in the griffon military. Gilda is not a "civilian" in Zaporizhia's eyes. Though obviously it is a bit more complicated, since some griffons only eat chickens and have never harmed a zebra, and among those 50,000 dead griffons, thousands of them were totally innocent in regards to zebras.
And I'm glad you're liking the story.
5573054 I do indeed like it. It's why I ask these kinds of questions. I might have gotten... sidelined at the beginning with the death of the Cakes, though. This story is darker than I'm used to, although the story is engaging.
5572320 See, I can't do that, just be nature of his mindset. That's like asking me "If you were Pol Pot or Mao Zedong" or any one of the other deluded leaders who saw themselves as gods. So asking me what I'd do if I was an insane narcissist isn't really a fair question.
5573171 Then what would you do if you were you?
5573387 Like I said: the war itself was justified.
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The gryphon's were killing and eating the zebra's because they were too lazy to to raise livestock,that and zebra's are sentient beings.So to so say gassing those monsters is unjustified IS WRONG ON SO MANY LEVELS!!! If those things came to Earth and started eating our men,women,and children do do you honestly think we wouldn't nuke,napalm,or viral bomb those monster's into Oblivion?!?!?! Zaporizhia has the right to do whatever it takes to put an end to those abominations. To look down on other sentient beings, kill and devour them including children/foals is unforgivable no matter the circumstances,and to do so because it's convenient they deserve to DIE IN AGONY!!!!Gassing them would be a kindness compared to the justice I would bring to bear on those abominations. So to answer your question I would stop these monsters and kill them,ALL OF THEM!!!And how I would do so is by feeding them one by one to wild animals and making them all watch in order to ,let them learn what it's like to be prey,to be afraid,to be thought of not as individuals but as nothing other than food,to learn what they made the zebra's go through for generations,to know that they brought this fate DOWN ON THEMSELVES!!!!
5585770 A lot of the griffons including Gilda were troubled by the fact that they had to eat meat to survive, and many of the griffons ate only chickens so they wouldn't have to eat zebras. But in this story and in the show, chickens and other animals are a bit smarter than in real life (they are mentally the equivalent of six year olds), so some of the griffons sincerely believed that it was better morally to eat a single zebra than twenty chickens to get the same amount of meat. It wasn't primarily a matter of laziness; it was a matter of different griffons placing different values on zebra lives. If you asked each griffon (and each of my readers) how many chickens a single zebra life was worth, no two answers would be the same.
The problem with the gas attack was that it unfortunately was rather indiscriminate, and took out plenty of griffons who had never even harmed a zebra and were just caught in the crossfire. But I can also see why Zaporizhia saw that as a necessary trade-off in order to force their surrender and get them to stop hunting his people. And who knows how many lives would have been lost if the hunting and the war continued with no surrender, so maybe in the long run it worked out with less people dying.
I'm honestly torn on the issue myself, and I don't think there is a right solution to whether or not the gassing was justified. However, I did try to write both sides of the argument into the story so that my readers could decide for themselves.
three-hundred kilogram to pounds is 661.387 god damn! Gilda's a fatty fatty fat fatty
I'd go with fishing. (Try koi ponds) Also, there are SOME vegetable sources of protein, such as peanuts & soybeans that could help.
Ahh, the chapter(s) that I was looking for