Max Cake

by Clonehunter

Part III: The Events in a Story

Part III: The Events in a Story

Chapter I:

Canterlot

Already had I forgotten about the messages from Caesar’s radio. The cabin window presented me with a view of the Canterlot balloon port. There was a light layer of snow covering it, the storm hadn’t quite made it here yet, but that wasn’t the only thing there. The Royal Guards were out, and they were everywhere. A few were walking out of another balloon. The way they moved, interacted with each other and the passengers-- Their motives were clear. They were searching for me. A few of them were eyeing up the approaching balloon. I needed a way off without being seeing. Royal Guards were thorough though, so a simple disguise wouldn’t work. A number of them were gathering where the balloon would land. Among them I saw the decorated crested-helmet of Shining Armor, the Captain of the Royal Guards. This was going to be difficult. I wasn’t sure what they would do if they found me. They think I killed a cop. They thought I was armed and dangerous, a renegade cop myself with nothing to lose. Funny enough, the latter was true. Would they arrest me, or would they just kill me on sight? I had no idea how they worked or how they extracted justice.

The balloon was getting closer to the platform. The other passengers in the cabin were beginning to stir from their slumber.

“Hey, look at all those guards,” one of them sleepily remarked.

“I heard they’re lookin’ for somepony ‘sponsible for a killin’. Hope they find him,” another said. “They’re searchin’ these balloons it looks like. Do you think he’s maybe on here?” The other pony shrugged. I needed a way off. At the back of the cabin were three doors. One was a bathroom, the other a closet, and the one in the middle led to... I actually wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the Captain’s dormitory, that was up front. My only other thought was luggage storage.

“What did they say he looked like again?” I got up from the window seat and strode down to the doors. The one on the left was a bathroom, the sign on the door said so. The door on the far right was a closet. I saw it open before we took off, and it was filled with things you’d find in a closet, like brooms, a bucket, a few other common place things. The door in the middle, luggage storage maybe. I looked back and saw no one had much with them. If they had luggage, it must be stored somewhere. Hard to imagine that no one would have brought at least a small briefcase with them or even a saddlebag.

“I thought he was yellow or somethin’. Is that right?”

“What color was his mane and tail?”

“I don’t quite remember. Do you remember his cutie mark?”

“It was some sort of food I reckon.” Slowly, I pushed the door open with a hoof. It was dark inside the room, cold too.

“Landing in five minutes everyone! Please return to your seats!” the old doorcolt shouted. Ignoring him, I pushed on into the room.

“They were like cakes or something, like his name, Carrot Cake.”

“Oh oh, I thinkin’ you’re right!”

The door shut behind me and I was alone in the dark. There wasn’t any heat in here; it was cold, freezing cold. I shivered there in the dark, not sure where to move. I couldn’t see a thing. I prodded around with my hooves for a bit. Several times I thought I contacted what felt like cases, and judging by the rather tell-tale material, luggage cases. I also managed to find some saddlebags too. This was a luggage compartment.

The cabin lurched forward suddenly, throwing me into the luggage on the floor. A utility door was on the floor, which now hung open with me hanging halfway out of it, partly dangling out of the balloon, staring down at the landscape far below. Blasting cold wind threatened to tug me the rest of the way out and send me plummeting, but I managed to hang on. Strangely, not once did I feel any sort of fear. All I felt was a bit of surprise, and perhaps annoyance with yet another obstacle in my way. That’s all I registered, an obstacle. I was becoming a machine, a machine that was hell bent on its programmed objectives.

I craned my neck around to the dock, but I was under it, and all there was was a massive concrete wall, but it wasn’t one without features. Down a ways under the platform there was a lighted service balcony with a door leading into the wall. The lights gave it away clearly, their shine also reflecting up and down the wall, giving me a rather good view of it. I wonder what it was for, but either way, there it was. Any normal non-pegasus pony now wouldn’t even think of formulating the plan I was processing. I can’t believe I thought of it myself. A jump from the balloon would be suicidal. There was no way I could make it. It was pretty far down the wall. The balloon was getting closer to it. As we got closer, I noticed the wall was on a horizontal slant. I thought about angle, speed velocity, things I didn’t really know anything about. If I jumped at the right time, and at the right angle, could I make it? Could I even get a good jump out of this hole. I was hanging halfway out of it already. Maybe I could slow my descent with the wall. The slant as I was finding out wasn’t as steep as it had looked from farther away. What if I made it? What if I didn’t?

The balloon lurched suddenly, and I felt it rising. The platform hung over the wall, and the balloon was rising to get above it in order to land. Shining Armor and his troop would no doubt search every part of this ship. Hiding didn’t seem to be an option. Slowly, painfully, I managed to haul myself back up into the luggage room. The room was still dark, and still did the teeth of the freeze hurt, and only a tiny bit of light managed to sneak in through the ground door. This storm was another problem, but not one for now. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Another door was above me on the ceiling. It most likely led to the top of the cabin, that or another room maybe. I wasn’t sure how big the cabin was. I felt that the airship was still rising. I thought about the jump again. Surely it was suicide. Who’s to say I’d ever even be able to swing into the wall?

If I missed, I could at least be safe in the fact that death would most likely be swift, and if anything, painless if I went directly to the ground. I thought about the door above me, maybe I could still hide somewhere. I wondered if I could get into the balloon itself maybe. The balloons were held up not just by different gases and air, but with large metal struts that kept the shape and structure. There was generally a maintenance hatch that went into the balloon. Airships were usually constructed by earth ponies, their own way to take to the skies. Of course, these balloons were also held by toxic fumes and gases. It wouldn’t be entirely safe up there. Also, if I was to ever cause any sort of spark in there, the whole thing would go into flames. Plus, who’s to say the guards won't see me trying to get into it. The airship was getting closer to the landing platform. I needed to take an action.

Back at the floor hatch, the wall was getting both closer and farther. The closer we got to the platform, the farther we got from the maintenance ledge below. My options were slim, and with the realization that there was no reluctant knot in my stomach, I ran to the back of the room, turned, and galloped hard to the hatch. I managed to fit myself smoothly through the door hole, and like that I was airborne. An icy blast of wind pushed me closer to the wall. I was approaching fast, wind and air tugging at every fiber in my body. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open even just a crack. From where I could see, I’d be able to land on the slanted wall. My legs spread out, slightly slowing down my descent. Again, I noted the lack of fear in my free-fall, much less the fact I held no regret to doing such a thing as this.

For a brief moment, I felt as if I was approaching too fast, that I could slam into the wall and thus have no success in this at all. I then realized that this would have been the case regardless, especially with this pushing wind.

Like a lightning paced bullet-train, fear hit me in mid-air and I realized I was going to die. My only hope was that it would be quick. I was ready to see my family again now, but were they ready for me? Did they want me? I wasn’t able to save them, and now I wasn’t able to save myself. I wasn’t able to grant their murderer the justice he deserved. Would they want me knowing I wasn’t able to avenge their fate? Surely that’s what they wanted. It’s what I wanted.

It was all over now though. I should have taken my chances with Armor and his guards. Instead I decided to suicide out of this. The wall was getting closer. At that moment I think I realized that in the back of my mind, this entire idea was nothing more than a try at death. I cursed myself.

Then suddenly there was a wrenching pain in my side that had the wind knocked out of me. I found extended g-forces pushing me horizontally. I wasn’t able to breath. I think I even blacked out for a moment. I felt myself take several twisting turns before coming to a halting stop and being dropped to my feet on hard concrete. Breaths came in painful rasps as tried to collect myself and stand. Every inch of my body hurt. I felt like a giant bruise.

“Wait a minute!” a pitchy voice cried out from above me. My eyes searched my surroundings and noticed flickering lights dancing along the concrete. There was shadow hovering over me. The voice sounded female. “Mr. Cake?!” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Someone I knew, not directly, but... There was a hard kick to my side and I was on my back gasping for air. Everything was spinning out of control, nothing was focusing. All there was were blurring lights and dark shadows mixing with each other. “I, I can’t believe it’s you!” The voice again, this time sounding off with distinct aggressiveness. Whoever it was, they recognized me, and from the sound of it, they didn’t realize who they had just saved, and it sounded as if he, or she (I still at this point couldn’t tell who owned the voice, it wasn’t very mature and cracked a lot, a young female was my best guess. Also, my head was throbbing) was regretting it.

I tried to speak, muttering “Wa-wait a mi-minute!” I was still groping for air. Slowly, my eyes regained their focus. Shapes began to form. A quick blurred glance around me proved that I was where I had intended to go. The lamps lit up the ledge, and the railing was right next to me. There were a pair of blue whooves standing on the other side of me. I recognized the color instantly, and for a moment didn’t believe my eyes, thought it was only a mirage covering the true image of whoever saved me. This was the same color as Cup, her fur color, that blue! The mirage was taunting, my own brain feeding me continued delusions. Perhaps I was still suffering from the forceful trip to this platform, my head not entirely back together yet. But as my eyes went up the legs, I realized this was not her. The legs were longer, the body thinner, this pony had the wings of a pegasus, and a mane that was the color (or colors) of a rainbow hung over the pony’s shoulder.

Now I knew the name, a friend of Pinkie Pie’s. Her name was Rainbow Dash. I thought about what possibilities could come from this right now.

“That was you falling from that thing?” She grunted loudly and reeled back. “More than half of all Equestria is looking for you! What did you do?” She left behind any knowledge that she saved me and right away began to accuse me.

“I didn’t do anything!” I pleaded. She rolled her eyes, annoyed.

“Everyone thinks you did something!” she stressed. “The radio said you killed a cop pony!” I struggled to my feet, rasping, still shaken by the fall.

“Well it isn’t true. I was, as corny as it sounds, framed!” She moved into a striking position, upper body hugged close to the ground, ears back, neck and head straight, front hooves outstretched except for one, and her wings ready to fly.

“That’s what they all say!” she hissed. She was just ready to pounce. How did she get here anyways? Why was she here? Maybe she was out for that bounty Keylocker had promised. Who knows how many others were after me for that.

“So what? You’re here to get that reward? I can put up a fight!” That was a bad bluff, as I was clearly straining to simply stand up straight. But she backed off a little bit, and her face turned into something a bit remorseful.

“Actually, Mr. Cake... Pinkie wanted me to find you and bring you back to Ponyville, to hide at Sugarcube Corner.” She sat back, rubbed one of her arms nervously. “She’s worried sick about you, she didn’t even know you left Ponyville until she heard about you on the radio. She wants you to come back home.” I dropped my head and felt tears tugging at my eyes. I wanted to go back home as much as Pinkie wanted me too I’m sure. But I couldn’t, not yet.

“I...” a pause, then, “I just can’t. Not now. This isn’t over.” She gave me a puzzled look. Naturally she didn’t know my side of the story, what I’ve uncovered and what I must face.

“But why not?” she said, her voice cracking as she talked. “But, you have to come back!”

“No! Look, I have too much to finish, I can’t give up. How did you find me anyways?”

“Twilight knew a spell that could be used to track anypony she wants, as long as she focuses her spell on a pony who is a friend of who she wants to find.” Twilight Sparkle was a purple Unicorn who lived in the Ponyville Library. She was the personal protege of Princess Celestia herself. She was another close friend of Pinkie. “I’m a pretty fast flyer, so it take me too long to fly up here, though I gotta say, that looks like one hay of a snow storm blowing in! Anyways, I saw the airship and thought you might be on it. But then I saw somepony falling so I had to go and save him, and it was you! What were you doing anyways?” Now I wasn’t sure what to say. It was such a scatter-brained scheme, and I’m pretty sure it was my subconscious trying to kill me.

“Oh um, I was just trying...” I needed something else, an excuse. Tell her it was an accident? No, best she be told the truth. I don’t know why, but I felt like I needed to something right, something righteous and true through all this hell. “I... think it was suicide.” It stung, hurt to say it, but deep down I knew that’s what that convoluted plan was all about. An attempt to bring an end to my troubles. It seemed my demons were still with me, not yet fully vanquished. “I wanted to jump to this ledge, a stupid idea, but, it was crazy, stupid, just enough to kill me. But then you came and saved me.” She stared at me with a bit of disbelief.

Finally she said, “What? You tried to kill yourself?” Her voice cracked harshly. It was the only thing I really noticed in her sudden rage. “How could you do that?”

“I--I don’t know! You don’t what I’ve had to live through! It’s, too much to explain...” I exhaled deeply and sat down, slouching against the guardrail. “My family is dead, all of Equestria wants me dead. It wasn’t thought through very well I guess.” I managed a sort of chuckle, deep and grizzled. “The pegasus genes always were on Cup’s side of the family.”

Dash offered a hoof, withdrew it and bit her lip. “Please come back, I can’t bear to see her stressed like she is right now.” I shook my head.

“Not until he’s dead.” I turned away from her, slowly moved up onto my feet using the strength I didn’t have and I turned towards the service door. This platform still didn’t make much sense, and this service door allowed for more than just Pegasus to get down here.

“What?” she stammered. “Not until who’s dead?”

“An old friend.” That didn’t tell her much, but I didn’t intend to tell her much. I wrapped my hoof around the doorknob and twisted it open. The door lead down a dark hallway with concrete walls. Nothing else was very visible. I noted the silence behind me. She needed to leave, go back and tell Pinkie, or maybe even lie to her, that everything would be alright. I doubted things would. “Rainbow--” I started to say as I turned back around, but I stopped when I found the platform empty. She was already gone, flying back to Ponyville through the incoming storm. I hoped she would make it through okay. It was time to move on then.

The hall lead deep into blackness, no lights of any kind could be seen. The walls, floor and ceiling were bare concrete, and again I wondered what the point of this platform was. There were no bits of machine or instrumentation to be seen on the platform other than the two lamps, and the platform was surrounded by concrete, and way up high above was the airship landing platform that hung over the valley below. I thought about it, and wondered if maybe the platform offered access to the landing pad? What kept it up? But no, if any sort of work needed to be done, Pegasus could handle it, fly back and forth between whatever work there was under the pad and back to the top of the pad if they had supplies there. Of course, maybe they couldn’t keep tools and whatever other materials they needed on top of the pad during hours for operation. Maybe that had something to do with it, and they would keep whatever they needed to work with down here. Regardless, this wasn’t important, and the thoughts were doing nothing more than keeping my mind off of what still lay ahead.

The hall was dark and foreboding, no lights. The lamps only illuminated the hall for a few feet. Beyond the lamps, over the valley, the dark of night remained. Snow once again reared in it’s head, light flakes from the black clouds high above. I stepped into the darkness of the hall, found no warmth though; it was as cold in here as it was outside. I thought about Shining Armor and his guards searching the airship. Would they find the open hatch? Undoubtedly they would if they searched well enough. I wasn’t on the passenger list though, so that might buy me a little time. I wasn’t sure how it would go up there. If they found the hatch, would they figure I jumped? What if they searched below the platform? On that matter I decided to close the door behind me, sealing me inside the darkness. With no light to guide me, I started down into the hall.

There was a dampness to the cold air, and there was a slight increase in my breathing process at the added weight of the wet air. There were no sounds except for the ones created by my passage, the sounds of hooves against the concrete floor, and the sound of my breath. Through this dark underground alley, there was no way to tell how far ahead the exit was, if there was a door, if there was a dead end or a turn or stairs. It was complete blindness. I thought briefly of scraping the walls, looking for some sort of light switch. I didn’t see any lamps or switches at the entrance, and I couldn’t see if there were any lights above me either, if there were even lights to turn on in the first place. There had to be somewhere, there had to be something. Doors alone couldn’t illuminate this passage, would it always require a unicorn to use magic to find a way through? Someone with a torch or electric flashlight? Again the thoughts of reasoning out the structural makeup of a hallway were nothing more than a distraction to keep my mind off of the confrontation ahead.

Maybe that’s what I needed to focus on. I didn’t feel any better when I shifted my thoughts then, but I felt it prepared me better. Where would I go first? I don’t know if Joe expected me or not. I didn’t arrive with him at the airships, and with that attack on Caesar’s home, I’m guessing he thought something was up. For all he knew, I was dead. He knew I was never the strongest stallion around, probably not the brightest either. Even I had to agree with all of that. But sometimes when life needs it, it can kick into full gear and then some, propelling the body and brain beyond their normal output. He didn’t underestimate me, I underestimated myself and what I could do when put to the test. An element of surprise would be useful, I could get an edge on Joe. Take him before he knew what happened. And then that would leave the matter of Lucky. He killed Whooves, undoubtedly. And if Noteworthy was dead too, then I wouldn’t put it past to say Lucky didn’t have a hoof in that either. Two murders right there. And Keylocker, was he aware? I wouldn’t think so, but then I wouldn’t of thought Lucky to be involved in anything like this either. But when he first told me to head the train station, he wasn’t faking his condition. This was becoming a long case for him, and with me running around, no doubt it got worse for him.

Joe and Lucky, targets A and B. I expected Joe to be at his donut shop. He didn’t just work there, it was his home too, just the same as Sugarcube Corner is my work and home. I wondered if he’d be sleeping. I figured it to be around four in the morning. Sunrise began at around five-thirty or six. I wasn’t really sure when the Princess got around to doing it. I was always asleep until the sun was high enough to creep into my room through the window. If Joe was sleeping, then I’d need to find him before he woke up. What better way to take an enemy when they are asleep? Dirty, and unfair maybe, but at this point I didn’t care. This wasn’t about being fair, a fair fight, a fair chance to live. This was revenge, and I was dead set on it. I was changing into something, dark and sinister, something evil perhaps. Fight darkness with darkness, and hope to Celestia that you could climb your way back to the light when it was over, and that you could return to a better life.

Outside I imagined the storm picking up. Canterlot always had a nightlife, but with this storm, I could see it scattering for cover. Through the chaos I would walk and take action. The burning pit of Tartarus would freeze over as its gates accepted another lost soul. Our Hell, Tartarus, always has room for another dead heart. For a while, I thought about if it would accept mine too given the chance. I figured that it would without a second thought.

Chapter 2:

Running out of Luck

The hallway, or tunnel as it more turned out to be, was far simpler than I had perceived. While I never became aware of any off-hallways or rooms, the main corridor was a straight passage that led out to a small building at the edge of Canterlot, right up against the mountain the city was built upon. The building was nothing more than a large steel matchbox with some windows and a door, standing in harsh contrast to the rest of the city. My guess was that it was a warehouse, and those who worked here probably made use of the tunnel every now and again for maintenance. In fact, I felt this warehouse proved my earlier thoughts on the use of the ‘hallway’.

Darkness was still in control here, and snow was lightly building up on the ground. There were no lights except for a dim security lamp that glowed at the door of the building. I didn’t stay here long to take in the rest of the surroundings though. There were errands to do. Firstly, visit the donut shop and drop something off for an old friend. It might get messy, but that didn’t matter. After that, I needed to pick up some clovers from a colt who specialized in farming them. When I was done with that, I’d go back home, clean up the mess, and try to go back to everyday life. The shopping list was clear and cut. Nice and ordered, though I suppose not every list needs to be completed in order starting at item number one and going down the list one by one.

My memory picks up at when I was making my way through some of the outer streets and I happened to pass by a carriage garage. Buses, taxis, everyday public transports were kept stocked here, all protected by an ornament roof not unlike many of the roofs that dominated the city skyline. The garage was open, and standing by himself in the middle of the lot was Lucky. Somewhere he had picked up dark shades, a rather odd commodity for the night life. Maybe the garage lights were too hard on his soulless eyes. He rubbed hoof on his chest, apparently waiting for somebody. Then he saw me standing at the entrance to the garage.

“Carrot!” he shouted. Slowly, cautiously, I moved into the building, my eyes focused on the back-stabbing stallion. “Carrot, what are you doing here? Everyone’s looking for you! But hey, maybe I got some good news for you.” He was playing it bogart, still going off the idea that I killed Whooves.

“Lucky, so where do you fit into all of this?” He shot his most charming smile at me and cocked his head to the left, faking ignorance.

“Fit into what Carrot?” he replied with a mock tone of innocence. “Look, I know you didn’t do it alright? And like I said, I got something to clear this up, the real guy.” I figured now his glasses were there to stop his eyes from betraying his setup mood and tone.

“That train, the sugar, it was on it’s way for you too pick up.” I continued my advance on him. I wanted him to say it, confess up. He snorted and gave me a wry grin.

“Think you have it all figured? C’mon, this is about money! Whooves, ha!” He started to step closer to me. We advanced on each other now. “C’mon Carrot, let me get you out of this.” I figured that was close enough.

“I’ll take that as a confession,” I said. My voice was toneless, giving no sign of emotion. We were close now, standing in front of one another. He peered over his glasses and gave me another smile.

“Fine by me Carrot.” And if right on cue, a spotlight hit us from our right, and a hefty stallion came barreling from the light. I pushed back, throwing myself on the ground while managing to catch a glimpse of large wooden stage coach flying by. I got to my feet, but by then the carriage was heading deeper into the garage, Lucky onboard. I wasn’t letting anything get away this time. My hooves flared underneath me, throwing me forward in a hard gallop in the direction of Lucky’s carriage. The garage road took a left and down a ramp, leading to a lower parking level. There was a power box on the way, which meant anything below the first floor was electric. I didn’t think much of this at first, nor did I see it right away, but this would come in handy as I flew past the corner at the bottom of the ramp, found the walls and floor around me being peppered with bullets, and eventually tumbled behind a concrete pillar with a taxi carriage snuggled up next to it that for whatever reason was giving residence to a jug of water, one of those kinds that you put on those office dispensers.

The wall behind me exploded as a bullet chipped through the pillar and into a set of loose hanging wires that were draped across the wall, extending from the power box. The wires blew apart, throwing sparks everywhere and creating a burst of white fire that fell to the ground not unlike rain. I pressed back against the pillar to avoid the sparks. I still hadn’t gotten a look at the shooters. They were back there, behind my pillar. I thought I could get a look on the taxi side of the pillar. I waited for a pause from the shooting, and then when there was, I shot my head around the pillar, using the taxi as partial cover. This garage floor wasn’t completely open, in fact, in the middle of the floor there was a large concrete box. I figured it was on office. The shooters were ducked behind two of their own carriages. I managed to catch a glimpse of one of them when he popped back from his cover and resumed fire. I couldn’t tell too well, but it looked like a dog with two pistols. He fired two shots before stopping. They didn’t want to waste ammo on a pillar.

“Geez, can’t hit him if he’s behind that,” someone spoke in a hushed but still audible tone.

“I don’t think he’s armed,” another said.

“Move up, quietly.” This dog sounded bigger, meaner. He started to talk with more volume, and then after a little bit, I realized he was talking to me. “C’mon pony! Come out, we’ll take you to Lucky! He wants you himself!” Likely story. I heard a quiet, barely audible shuffling of feet. Didn’t hear anything else. I figured it was the dog moving up, maybe there were two. There were three voices, one taunted me, and the others had to be advancing. No clopping of whooves. I wasn’t sure how close they were. The wires were still out in front of me a few feet forward and to my left. The wires were split, but split ends on both sides were still swaying from whatever currents they were receiving. There were three wires total. Two of three extending from the electrical box were still swaying, the other hung limp and dead. For the wires that extended the other direction, only one swayed. This was the thickest wire, probably the most dangerous one. I thought of my options. There was the water jug, and water loved to conduct electricity. But as I thought about, I realized how bad a plan it was. I’d expose my self heavily to whoever was creeping on my pillar, and it take to long probably to take the work to splash them with with, or throw forth a puddle big enough to reach them. Plus I’d have to find more time to jump, grab the wires, and stab them into either the hunters themselves or the water. It’d take too much time, and it probably wouldn’t work.

Those wires hung limply, swaying with the currents passing through them, the currents that had nowhere to go. The large wire was loose up to about four feet, not a lot. But, I wondered how close they were. The lights in the garage though, electric and bright, hanging from the ceiling, began to betray their positions, casting shadows along the side of the pillar. I caught the shape of one, noting it was another dog. He was close, they both must’ve been. The wire wasn’t that far from me, but I’d have to break cover. Did they want to kill me outright? Or did they just want to capture me?

A furry gray hand tipped with clawed fingers reached around the pillar, clawing my shoulder, drawing blood. I darted forward, glanced back and saw a dog leaping at me. He wanted to capture me. The other dog was drawing a gun. He wanted to kill me. He grabbed my haunches, dragging my back end to the ground. I managed to reach the wire and was able to grab the rubber coating in my teeth and tugged hard, bringing the wire further from the wall, doing my best to keep the frayed end away from me. The dog tried to cling on to me, but I flashed a back hoof across his face and used my other back leg to kick him between the legs and push him forward (He was a pretty short dog) closer to the wire. I rolled off my back and brought the wire too him as he tried to stand up, stabbing him in his bare chest. The frayed wires within the rubber coating cut through the dog’s fur and went into his skin.

He didn’t shriek, didn’t yell, he simply went rigid and silent as volts of electricity went through his body, frying his internal systems and killing his brain. The dog, horrified, brought his gun up and started to fire. I let go of the wire (Surprisingly it stuck to the dog, apparently happy with the fact it had something to pass electricity into) and swung out right. The other dog was visibly shaken by his partner’s demise and had accidentally shot him several times with his disrupted aim. Realizing his mistake, he swung his arm out, trying to follow me with his gun. He fired twice before his gun clicked dry. Seeing a chance, I bolted towards him, ramming him head on. Off in the distance the last dog behind the wagons fired once. I have no idea where that shot went, but it didn’t get me or this dog. But regardless, I landed the dog on the ground, reared up, and put as much strength as I could down onto him. He had managed to roll away a bit, but his arm didn’t make it out in time. The sound of his breaking bones was clear, and the feeling of his arm giving out beneath me shook through my entire body. The dog briefly screamed in sudden agony before I leaped over him, deliberately leaving one hoof too low to catch him in the head, knocking him out cold. I kept darting forward, past the last dog and his barricades and heading to get out of his sight and get behind the office and its concrete walls. I heard another gunshot behind me but it missed, so I kept going.

I managed to get around the office block, out of sight from the dog. I ran around to the next side of the block, found an ajar door and shoved it open, the door then banging shut behind me after I had gone through. The room was lit by a single lamp centered on the ceiling. It was a dull yellow, but offered enough light anyways. The dog I figured would be making his way around now too, blast through the same door I just came through, and gun me down best he could. I started to search the room, for a weapon, anything for defense. I couldn’t be running these tactics all day. And I needed to catch up to Lucky. I wasn’t sure how this garage worked, how far underground it went, and if there was a way out at the bottom, or if it was all just parking, and the only exit that existed was the one on the floor above me. Though in truth it didn’t really matter all that much, not if I didn’t have something to protect myself with from those thugs of his. I wasn’t sure if they were all dogs or not, and pegasi and griffins would be hard ones to go up against with any sort of close combat weapon, but either way I wasn’t seeing much in this office other than a dusty shelf and an old oak desk. Nothing really to go out against with. I could take my chances.

Behind me, the door creaked softly. I dropped myself to the ground as the first bullet flew overhead, the bang of the gun starting up a terribly painful ringing in my ears. The sound careened off the solid concrete walls in the room, which in truth was rather small. I got up, stumbled around a bit from the ringing, but glimpsed that the echoing blast of the gun had caught him off-guard as well. I shook my head, trying to displace the ringing, while at the same time making a movement for the door and the dog. He was wearing a purple fedora with pinstripes and a matching coat. It looked nice, if not a bit cocky. I managed to pick up up with a small charge and shoved my head straight into his stomach. His hat started to fall forward but I caught it and held it against his face. The ringing lessened slightly, but the pain still had me squeezing one eye tight, my mouth sucking in air, trying to make it go away. He fell onto his back, my left front hoof still pressing the hat against his face, and in an act of desperation and rage, derived perhaps by the ringing itself, my other hoof crashed down onto the hat. There was a sick thud and a muffled yelp, and the hoof came down again, and again.

When I was finished, the ringing had mostly deteriorated, and fell over on the ground exhausted by the sudden exertion of energy on the dog’s face. I breathed harshly, and slowly it came to me, what I did. Once again I found myself surprised, but this time not utterly depressed or even remorseful, at my sudden brutality. Electrocuting was one thing, as I didn’t really kill him, the wire did. I threw the wire on him, but it wasn’t the same feeling. The second dog was unconscious on the floor by his dead companion, his arm severely shattered. He didn’t die, so nothing felt wrong there. He was only immobilized, and while the feel of his arm crushing beneath me was certainly something to physically behold, emotionally it was nothing. But this last dog, the rage that blew through me, by the simple ringing in my ears! This experience felt different, felt new, felt strange. Again another shattered skull, perhaps not that different from the dog back at the train station earlier this same night (Could it still only be that recent? The cold blast of this winter night was still upon me, through all of these events, but it was starting to feel so old, so long ago in a distant past, maybe even another timeline). A wake of bodies lay dead in this night, many from my own doing. But that was the course of revenge wasn’t it? Wasn’t it the inevitable? Death seemed almost necessary here, the only way to feel better about anything. The only thing to make my actions seem complete. That’s all this was. Not a journey into my soul (Though it certainly had become that as well), not a search for justice (Though it was that too), not a fight against evil, with myself being ‘the good’ (Though this drug was evil, Joe was evil, but I‘m evil too, isn’t that right?). This was nothing but revenge. Revenge with a few quests on the side. A written out story with subplots to keep the reader interested in the rest of the story’s universe.

But were the subplots here? The drug I suppose, the hunt for the drug. The nationwide hunt for me too. Those were the subplots of this story. They made the story fuller and full of life, more adventure, more interesting than it was or even tried or pretended to be.

And somewhere in this thought process, I had gotten up, a knife being held in my mouth, found in the dog’s purple and pinstripe coat. When I woke from this thinking, I was heading to the next floor of the garage, and somehow, somewhere in my mind, did I know this was the final floor. I shouldn’t have known that, nothing gave it away, nothing I remember coming upon or finding. It was the last floor. And since Lucky never came back up, either there was another exit, or was trapped down there, barricaded, perhaps sure that I was never going to make it this far, but still setup just in case. But, no as I came around the final corner the wagons were there, barricading the future dead. Lucky had run into a dungeon. A dungeon where the only out was past the guard with the drive for blood, ready to kill anyone who tried to make their way out of his dungeon. Lucky thought he was the guard initially, but now he was the prisoner, and I was the guard. The only question though, the only feature; Lucky wasn’t the only prisoner. There was only ever one guard, and could only one stop every prisoner from getting out alive? At least one was sure to land a final blow to the guard, the power of numbers, overwhelming the guard.

But the guard wouldn’t think of this. He would kill as many as he could before his own slaughter. Stop as many as he could form getting back into the world.

I came around the corner and the guns went off. Instead of reeling back behind the corner, I burst forward behind a full carriage made of sturdy oak wood, judging by the lingering scent. It was a brand new wagon, and already it’s young life was being shot up with lead. It was a small floor, not as big as the last. Their wagons were huddled in one corner, this one stood on the other side of the room, opposite from them. Somehow I evaded them all to get behind this one carriage. I noticed a single parking brake, a block of wood shaped like a wedge. I wasn’t especially known for how wagons worked or engineering of parking garages, but this struck me odd, and then I remembered the cab I hid behind earlier. No brake. In fact, this brake was large, obvious, and I didn’t remember seeing any before on any of the other parked vehicles. Of course, I wasn’t exactly stopping to see if everything had a parking brake on it. But this block, only one, to keep it form what? Thievery? This block wouldn’t hold it for that. Rolling away? It could only roll away if it wasn’t on a flat surface.

Flat surface. The answer already in my mind. This carriage was on a hill, not a visible one to my eyes, but it had to be on one, or else this block of wood was useless. Everything had a reason, right? Maybe not, but I could try anyways. It was on a front wheel, close to me, and I kicked it out. At first it didn’t move, but as several more bullets hit the wood, the force managed to break it form the concrete floor, and slowly it began to move. It was aimed at them, right at them, but I wanted to break their barricade. This slow roll wouldn’t be enough, not by a long shot. I decided that I’d help it out.

I got in front of it and began to push with the energy I had left. A bullet ricocheted off of a wall and grazed my shoulder. I yelled in pain, and there was a brief pause in the shooting, the shooter believing they had scored a hit.

But then someone yelled, “Hey! I can see his stinkin’ yellow feet under the wagon! Keep shootin’!” The gunfire resumed, their bullets eating their way through the wood. It wasn’t a very good way to go about it, shooting me, but it seemed at least one thug got the idea to try and bounce bullets off the concrete under the carriage. One bullet bounced off of the concrete and jumped off past my neck, slicing through my coat collar. I still kept pushing the carriage, and slowly I could feel it picking up more speed. There wasn’t much more space to cover, but I only needed them distracted.

“Hey, what is he doing?” one of them shouted.

“He’s pushing the cart? Sweet Tia!”

“Everyone get down, reload!” That was Lucky. Ironic name. There was nothing lucky about this, not for him anyways.

Finally, I the carriage had picked up enough speed through the small stretch of land, and it impacted hard against the barricade. I was still pushing, using my head, neck, chest, and the impact jarred me and threw me back. There was crunching wood, a scream, and assorted misfired guns.

As I muscled back onto my feet, I caught Lucky with the corner of my eye sprinting out from beyond the wreckage, leaving behind the sick groaning of his wounded, leaving them to, apparently, whatever fury I had in store for them. I wasn’t solely after them. If they were still jarred up, no sense in taking them out now while Lucky was only just getting to the inclined road leading back top. I managed to bring myself back up and quit out the staggering, and once I was back up I started after Lucky, who had fatally stopped for a moment to look back and check the damage from afar. He should’ve kept running. He saw me now though, and sprinted up the incline with me now hot on his tail. As we rounded the first corner he started to draw his gun. I came around the corner after him and found myself looking down the barrel of his gun as it appeared right around.

When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, time seems to slow down, almost stop as everything flashes by in front of your eyes, a series of visions that correspond to your past. In a second which feels like years, every bit of pain and joy you encountered at some point in your life sweeps through you like electricity passing through water. When it’s all over, you finally acknowledge that the bullet is for you, and that this is the end. The ‘Game Over’ emblem blazing at you from the video screen of an arcade game, this game universally called ‘Life’. Life to the max. The game where you max out, you get capped out. I must’ve missed the point in my life where I had maxed out, but it wasn’t always so obvious.

But as life started to return to normal speed, and as the visions finally came up the present, I couldn’t accept this was my bullet. It wasn’t my bullet. Lucky wasn’t yet ready, he wasn’t watching for me, and he didn’t even have his head fully up. When he finally noticed me passing by he shot his gun, but it was too late. I had already ducked past, turned, and was coming at him again. He tried to take off again, but a gun strapped to your hoof didn’t make it any easier to walk. He tipped over it and fell. The strap for his gun came loose and I grabbed for it, taking it by the grip and bringing it up to his chin. Time for questions.

“Lu--” I had only begun to say his name when fire erupted from the gun’s nozzle. I had grabbed the grip right where the trigger was. With the gun having almost slipped, I had squeezed it for a better hold on it, bringing back the trigger in the process. The strap on it was what kept it tight without need to hold it on the grip. The only time you needed to handle it was when you intended to fire it. I didn’t intend to do that, but in all truth, I was probably going to do it whether I held alive for a few minutes or not. He was dead either way.

Chapter III:

Carrot, Dearest of all my Friends!

The snowstorm was finally blowing in like a ravenous spewing Smooze, covering the city in a layer of white unhappiness. The air had grown beyond chilly, now it was just numbingly dead end cold. The streets were empty, Canterlot seemed deserted, but it was probably better this way. Less innocence to perish in the oncoming crossfire. Less blood melting through the snow. Less bodies in the morgue.

Behind me fingers of ice ravished the bodies in my wake, turning them blue, the bodies becoming popsicles of flesh and bone. Lucky was one of these, a backstabbing ‘Former and No-Longer’ cop from Ponyville, dead from his own injustices. I just happened to deliver the final blow. Whoever I was in the past was now long dead, and I knew that could never return, maybe attempt, but it’d never be the same. That happy little bakery in Ponyville will always have an air of gloom, depression, and death surrounding and filling it. Blood stains that will never come out no matter how much you clean the floors, no matter how much it seems to have disappeared into the rags and water. This all went for Lucky too, except the part here he could attempt to hit the old way of life again, before he got involved in with this whole sugar business Joe, Caesar, and my wife got into those years ago. He was dead, a silent body now that had answers.

Where was Joe? It was the only answer I wanted right now. Anything else that still gripped me could come later. I was on Joe now, he was next.

I decided to begin with the only reasonable locale that he could be at, one I had planned to visit earlier before I ran into Lucky. Donut Joe ran a pastry shop, a bakery, here in Canterlot. He had affectionately named it after its esteemed owner. The place was called Pony Joe’s, a little diner like establishment that had the air and feel of an eatery from sixty or so years ago. Old retro styled place complete with an ages old jukebox and those pointy looking tables and fancy lights. It wasn’t far from where I was now. I figured I could find my way through the snowy blizzardly streets.

Hanging at my waist was Lucky’s custom revolver, packed neatly in the holster on Lucky’s custom belt that I had strapped around me, keeping this coat of mine on nice and snug. I managed to check the chamber, found five bullets in it. They were the only bullets left to find after capping Lucky. Those former six were his last attempt to keep himself alive. Now these current five were my attempt.

It took maybe twenty minutes to locate the diner, and when I did it was clear no one was home inside, all the windows dark. But the place wasn’t lifeless. A lone shadowy figure hobbled around the shape of a small carriage. My guess was that he was preparing to take off somewhere. It was a dog though, his shape even through the snow unmistakable. I didn’t see any ponies around to drag the thing through the icy roads and freezing snow though. I wasn’t sure what was going to get him moving, unless he was waiting for someone else to pull the cart, though in this weather, I had no idea who would be crazy enough to pull carriage through this frost. Maybe they’d have to be as crazy as me, the way I’ve been trekking through this single night endlessly. I couldn’t begin to guess how long until morning, or if it already was, the dark clouds and white fury blocking out the sun that was already up. Then again, would Celestia even bring up the sun in weather like this? There’s no need for this kind of snowfall, you’d think the pegasus or even the unicorns now would’ve done something about it by now, maybe even one of the Princesses. But they would if they could, and my guess was that they couldn’t. The storm was an enemy, as much of one as Joe and his drug.

Approaching through the snow, the dog never looked my way. Lucky me. He shut the trunk on the carriage, started to move away towards the diner. As I moved closer, I took notice of his features. The dog still hadn’t wiped the dried blood from his face. The dog from the station at the dawn of this night. I remember overhearing his name once.

“Dirt, Diamond Dog,” I addressed him. He spun around and lost his balance in the snow, and fell. He looked up at me, frozen terror in his eyes.

“Oh shoot, oh shoot!” He scrambled away, sliding through the snow and his back to the diner. He wasn’t like this when I met him earlier. Earlier he was ready to shoot me down and dead along with that griffin. Now he was a child shying away from a schoolground bully, afraid I was going to take his lunch money. “C’mon man, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me!” Maybe it was the gun in my belt, maybe the look in my eyes. Maybe he was just high. I decided to unholster the hammerless revolver and train it on him, carefully slipping my hoof through the band on the gun. With death by lead staring him in the face, Dirt looked even more terrified.

“I want answers, now. Pony Joe, where can I find him?”

“Nu-uh, no way, I’m not t-talking!” He stuttered, entered a short spasm. He was definitely high. Pressing the gun into his muzzle I asked him again, where could I find Joe. “Hey, don’t hurt me! Y-You’re a cop! You can arrest me! Book me!”

“Tell me where I can find Pony Joe, or this bullet is going to be stuck in the wall behind your head, covered in your brains!” Dirt whimpered pathetically. There was no glory in this. This wasn’t anything I wanted to do. This dog begging for his life, being stubborn at the same time. What else were my options? I didn’t have any others. Threatening, killing, running, repeat. I didn’t want to waste another soul in the snow, not another underling who did it for the money, didn’t care about anything else but the money. He was slime sure. Ugly slime that the streets needed cleansing of. But I didn’t want to do it, not like this, not anymore. Joe was the only piece of trash that needed cleaning, a vat of radioactive waste that would poison and destroy if no one disposed of it properly. But this right now...

This was senseless.

The dog was stupidly high, I wasn’t sure if he’d give me information because of that alone. I waved the gun in front of him again, this time moving the barrel to his forehead, right between the empty pits of garbage that served as his eyes.

“Alright, alright I’ll tell you! Don’t hurt me anymore, please!”

“Where’s Pony Joe?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell ya’. He isn’t here, he left. He went to the EAS tower, you know where that is?” I nodded. The Equestrian Agricultural Society building. I’ve been there before. Went there for a convention once with Joe. He once worked there in their offices before he was able to open his own bakery. They were in charge of the convention three years ago, the one Cup had gone too. The one I was supposed to go too. “Look man, d-don’t hurt me! I heard what ya did to Lucky! C’mon, don’t kill me too!”

“How did you learn that?” I asked him.

“C’mon man, news travels fast, know what I mean?” Indeed, news did seem to travel fast. I did leave survivors.

“Does Joe know?”

“Heh, why do you think he’s bailing out of here?”

“Bailing...” I remembered that the tower had its own private airship pad. He could get a ride regardless of the weather. But why would they let him get too it? My only guess is that if they were giving Joe the go-ahead to use their facilities, it must’ve meant he had either got by with a good lie, had good partnerships still, or they were all apart of this drug business, making a profit. Taking out Joe wouldn’t have killed the trade instantly. But if he was leading me to who owned it all, the EAS itself, armageddon was about to rain on down on their heads.

I turned to leave. The storm was beginning to die down. Time to find Joe.

“Hey, hey! What are doing? You going to leave me here? I-It’s freezing man, freezing! Arrest me! Arrest me, take me in!” I stomped him in the stomach with one of my back hooves, shutting him up. I holstered the gun and started to walk away. The EAS wasn’t far, it’d be a short walk.

“Reports are coming in that the storm that has been charging across Equestria is finally calming down. No one is yet sure how the storm began, or why it couldn’t be stopped. Some have claimed that long dead and ancient creatures called Wendigos have returned in answer to a series of violent incidents across Canterlot. Just now reports are coming in that a Ponyville Police Officer whose name we are unable to release at the time has been found dead in a parking garage, shot through the head. Several other bodies were also found, those of Diamond Dogs. The dogs were found to have been armed, and it appears several gunfights had occurred throughout the complex. Several survivors, also dogs, were found and arrested though on charges of drug trafficking. Additionally, they claimed that the officer was in fact their ring-leader, and a member of the mysterious crime group responsible for the drug as a whole. We will now take a short commercial break, and remember this is Lyra Heartstrings, for the Late-Night Equestrian News Station.”

The radio addressed the decline of two storms this night. The chaotic winter storm was dispersing finally, though the cold still persisted. Celestia would be lifting up the sun in no time, and Luna in turn would lower the moon. The light would pierce through and remove the clouds and snow, and give everyone a clear view of the world around them again. The light in turn would also reveal the shadows and corpses they would hold in the morning, the aftermath of the night. Already they had found Lucky, and already did his surviving partners destroy his reputation. With that turn of events I might be able to get out of this without the help of Caesar.

Keylocker would be in a tizzy, probably embarrassed even in his hoof in the exalting of Lucky, and putting the bounty on my head. Maybe not though. But with Lucky’s death, and his role in the drug trade revealed, all I had to do was give my side of the story. They were still some holes here and there that could still lock me up, but at least I’d still have my mental health. I could be jailed and still be in relative peace if I get to Joe. If I get to him.

The EAS tower loomed over Canterlot, the second largest building in the city, dwarfed only by Princess Celestia’s grand palace. The structure fit with the architectural style of the rest of the city, nothing looked out of place here. At the tower’s top though was the airship pad, hanging over an extended portion of the building. The doors to the building were shut, but not locked, and I gained entrance. The lobby was large and bare, the only thing to see being the empty receptionists desk and waiting chairs that lined the far walls on either side of the desk. Behind the desk was a stand alone wall that read ‘Equestrian Agricultural Society’, big bold letters, superseded by a portrait of Caesar set behind the words. The background consisted of an artists rendition of Canterlot set in front of a field of wheat, the sun rising in the further background. A picture worth a thousand words, a few on this one including lies and promises.

The desk was empty, no receptionist. There were a few assorted papers and a basket and a typewriter. There was a letter scroll off to the side. It was noted to be from Caesar, and it was dated only an hour ago. An hour...

The letter told whatever employees left at this time of night to leave, and judging by the emptiness, half of the lights off, and shut down machines, they had followed orders. The second half of the lett almost seemed written to me.

“...and I fear many of my trusted security guards and personnel at the tower have been stuffed into the pockets of Donut Joe. Trust none of them, I fear they no longer answer to me, as I was afraid of, with the the head of security, Griff, now on Joe’s payroll.”

At first it looked like I had proof that ghosts could write, but otherwise, Caesar was alive and well. What I saw at his manor was only a play with actors, but here we was still helping me. He was afraid that if I stayed there too long, real killers would arrive and finish us both off. He had to get me out of there, so his own guards staged his death and with their guns in a blaze got me out of there. Revolvers flashing.

I wasn’t a gun buff, not close. But I had no clue what other kind of firearms existed in the world. Revolvers for sure, I had Lucky’s. What else existed? Rifles for one. The Canterlot guards were for the most part unicorns, but relied on magic for offense and defense, and in time of real need they had spears and shields. I didn’t think other guns other than different revolvers from different griffin manufacturers existed, or at least wouldn’t be in the hooves or claws of the guards here. But still, I wouldn’t doubt spears, I bet they would have those. I’d find out soon enough.

Starting into the building I came across the first of the guards. A bulky pegasus who looked to have an attitude problem wearing the standard issue guard uniform was sitting behind the standalone wall, apparently trying to nap. Having someone like me come to disturb him from his sleep wouldn’t put him on his good side. Luckily for me, despite his quick temper, he wasn’t a morning colt. He reacted slowly, and seemed to invite the swift kick to his face I gave him, knocking him back into a good slumber. Elevators were just ahead. I imagined Joe somewhere midway up the tower, probably readying his cronies to make sure I don’t get past the second floor.

The elevators were working, and this one went up several floors. I didn’t know Joe’s security measures, but if he had men on every floor, I could bypass the first couple. Again, I had no idea how he had everything setup. Maybe he kept all of his guards with him. How was I supposed to know? This was Caesar’s building, I didn’t have any idea how he kept it setup either. Slowly, silently, the elevator brought me up. There was nothing but the sounds of my own thoughts. None others. Elevators ,enchanted by magic, rose as silent as bats flew. Me and my thoughts, and all of the time I had between the first and fifth floors.

The elevator eventually came to a stop and the doors slid open. I stepped out into the room, breathing in the warm heated air. The heat of the building weighed down upon me. This was different than the outdoors. Killer cold that made your reactions and thought processes quicker, your body more rigid and being able to respond quicker to the bullets flying towards your face like an angry swarm of bees. I couldn’t allow myself to be overcome by the heat, couldn’t get sluggish. This floor was filled with office cubicles. Who hid behind them I didn’t know, but if anyone was here, at least there was the knowledge they’d be as slow and sluggish as me.

But who’s to say Joe hadn’t pumped them up on the drug? The sugar? All of them pumped and dying to go fifteen rounds with a full grown Hydra. The beauty of the drug in this kind of situation. Made you giddy, unresponsive unless in a situation, paranoid, that feel of being pursued by hungry imaginary demons who wanted nothing more than to rip and tear at your flesh and consume your mind and soul. It made you a stone cold killer who wanted nothing more than to rip and tear the flesh of whoever tried to oppose them, consume not the soul but the flesh in the most painful way possible, then leaving the surviving soul scarred and crippled, stuck forever with the memory of how its case of flesh was destroyed in such a grisly manner.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. My goal was to end Joe and the drug with one fell swoop of my hoof, one fell pull of a trigger, destroying the evil that was built up over the years, and caused so much pain and suffering, with one piece of killer lead through its ugly head. The blood of Joe and the drug would mix on the floor creating a puddle of dark depravity, and somewhere in the blackness my soul would be reflected, and I would hope to Celestia it’d be returned to me with peace of mind, ending my nightmare.

As I stood near the cubicles, dreaming of returned dreams and settled revenge was probably not the smartest thing to do in a building filled with those who wanted me dead, wanting my own blood on the floor mixing with the dust on the carpet. The pegasus had a crowbar and was approaching from the side I wasn’t looking at, my eyes focused out of the fifth story window. I didn’t think to look over if it wasn’t for the sound of a sliding elevator door. I turned, saw the pegasus ready to strike, and a blue fury swept out of the door with an air of gusto and might that took both me and the pegasus by surprise. He lost possession of his blunt weapon to his attacker and had it turned on him, the force of it screaming into his skull, the sound of bones cracking so loud it wouldn’t be surprising if Joe had heard it from the roof. When the assaulter stood up from the cubicles it had flown into, there was that familiar blue, and that same color of eyes. An image again broken by the rainbow mane and tail and wings that marked the identity of a pegasus. Rainbow Dash was back.

“Rainbow Dash? What are-- How did-- What are you doing here?” I could only stutter.

She gave me a guilty smile, a bit of lie behind it no doubt, saying “Not gonna give you up Mr. Cake, this is still for Pinkie.” There was something in her eyes that pointed slightly otherwise. But who knows, maybe I’m just soft for a pretty face and like to fantasize sometimes.

“Dash you know I won’t go back with you. Not until I’m all done here.” She tossed me the crowbar, the stainless black metal rod striking the floor in front of me. She nodded her head. She knew this, I knew it.

“I know that Carrot. But it doesn’t mean I can’t help ya’ finish this faster!” She prepped her wings, sticking them up from her back, ready to pounce on my command. She gave me a cocky smile. She had guts, I couldn’t deny her that. But she wasn’t as brave as she thought she was. Or was she? She killed him, I heard his skull crack! “C’mon, you and me, you made it this far, and I am perhaps the fastest flier in all of Equestria, and I can fight! We can finish this before anyone could say--” I cut her off.

“Dash, no. We could both die, and then who will Pinkie have. You care for her, I do maybe more. And in that case I need to make sure she still has someone. Anyone.”

“What?” Her voice cracked as she rolled the word out of her mouth with a sense of surprise. She had to know I was going to say this. She probably had a response. But I’d be surprised if she didn’t expect that. “Mr. Cake, what about this?” She gestured to the downed colt on the floor in the cubicle. “I saw you flying out. You saw him and then you looked surprised. I’m pretty smart, got that? You didn’t see him coming! I got him, and without me he would’ve got you! Killed you!” Torture in my mind, she was right but I couldn’t risk her life and mine. Her life wasn’t mine to risk.

“Dash, I thank you, but please try to understa--” The bullet blasted loud with its signature ear shattering depth. I ducked down next to the cubicle, pulling Lucky’s gun. Rainbow Dash in that moment was now my burden. The bullet found a path to her head. Pain striking, she fell back into the elevator, her blood on the floor. The doors shut and the elevator descended, or ascended, I didn’t know. Either way she was dead, another dead mare in my hooves, same color, same piercing eyes. a Personality not too different than Cup’s when she was young. A daring adventurer, charming, beautiful... Not afraid of anything... Now dead.

The elevator door was a shiny silver color, a mirror that showed me the other side of the room from my hiding spot. A dog wearing the security uniform like all security personnel here. I saw him in the reflection, trying to make his way through the cubicles. Not very smart, he wasn’t even trying to do it with stealth, finality or fineness, or anything really. He came barging about, and set himself up as the perfect target. I made my move and shot up over the cubicle, fired once, and with aim truer than I thought I could do, the dog was dead.

Behind me the elevator doors opened, Dash’s elevator. The blood was all there, but her body was gone. Alive, or body pulled by the goons. I longed for the former. The doors shut again, leaving me with the reflective surface.

For a brief moment I was stricken by the image shown back to me. A face I didn’t recognize, and for a moment I even thought another guard was in the room with me. It wasn’t though, it was me. Aged face, unkempt, messed mane, dull eyes vacant of expression or feeling. The yellow fur seemed shades darker than it really was, and the coat I had been wearing all this time was torn and tattered at the shoulders and waist line. Dried blood was here and there, whether it was mine or not I wasn’t sure. It was an awful reflection, a demon staring back at me, a creature trying to break out. The monster that kept me from reaching my family on time! That kept me from saving them! Kept me from dying with them! Again the inner monologue started to encompass me, and I needed to get moving. Joe was still at large. I tried for the next elevator, the door opened, and I entered.

The elevator moved up floor after floor. When it reached the highest it could go, this time only four floors, I exited, and got onto the next one and ascended again. Each switch of an elevator brought me a bit closer to heaven. Eventually, I ended my fourth elevator trip of the night. The doors opened, and the guns started to fire. I fired once back as bullets hit the elevator’s interior, sparks and bits of metal spraying all over me. Two bullets found a path into my shoulder, but somehow I managed to reach up the control panel and select the floor below and me and the doors closed. The doors opened on the next floor and I crawled out, heaving, panting, bleeding. The pain was strong, a thousand fiery needled ripping into my flesh, burning me from the inside out. My shoulder was on fire. I applied all the pressure I could with my hoof, somewhat difficult with the gun still strapped around it.

I hadn’t yet been able to look at the new floor before I heard galloping, and soon enough an earth Pony tackled me in front of the elevator as its doors closed. The earth Pony was average build, light brown and a yellow mane. His eyes were filled with hateful fire, a sick grin telling me he was enjoying his domination here. He delivered a punch to my stomach, then noticing my wounded shoulder fired two more at my shoulder, exuberantly igniting the flames of pain to a higher degree. My gun arm got stuck under his stomach, and feeling the barrels shape against his body, his eyes went wide and his face twisted into a mixture of fear and surprise. Two bullets, perhaps one too many. I’ve been counting my shots, I had only one left. And this one needed to be for Joe. I holstered the weapon and went back to the levators.

The one next to the one I came down on went up three floors above the one above me. The floor indicator on the first one told me it had been called back up. They were coming down, which meant that I needed to start going up. I got in the next elevator and started up as their opened up on my floor. The elevator rose, I was sweating, bleeding. My shoulder still ached with all of the pain in the world, a fire raging. When the elevator stopped I got out. There wasn’t another elevator here, which meant I would need go deeper into the building. There were more floors to go, which means there either had to be more elevators or a staircase, or at least something else, anything else. Pain aside I moved into the floor. This room was mostly empty, lights generated by a magic field illuminated the room, the lights coming from no actual visible source. A reception desk was off to the side with a company banner behind it, the subtitle reading “A Bit Closer to Heaven”. I didn’t know what that meant at all for an agricultural building. It was about as random and senseless as a dead mare getting up and walking the night (Yah, zombies. The gruesome stuff that doesn’t make sense).

I moved ahead, finding cubicles, desks, a lounge, and hallway of offices. At the end of the hall here was Caesar’s office. The way was fine and clear. Approaching the door on the way there, I could hear voices through it, talking, shouting. As my trip here has proven time and time again, I found myself once again not coming up with very good ideas. At best I gunned my leg speed and shoved into the door, smashing it open to surprised faces. The office was large spacious, and as I had crashed through the door, an alarm rang and showed me an interesting feature to the room. This feature was a large glass wall that came down and separated the room in half, Caesar’s desk on one side, myself on the other side. A rather good security measure.

“Ah-haha, Carrot, dearest of all my friends!” On the other side of the glass Pony Joe and two guards, one of them the griffin I had repeatedly seen earlier that night, Griff, the other guard was some earth pony. Joe stood between the two. “It is ridiculous that you have made it this far Carrot. Look, I’m sorry I have to do this old friend, but I have built myself an empire here! The money, it’s good money!” I felt he was trying to justify all of this, but he was doing a bad job.

“An empire? An empire of what? Death? Lies?”

“No, Sugar!” He laughed like a madhorse. “That convention you missed out on changed my life Carrot. It could’ve changed yours too! If only you were there with me. If only your lovely Cup Cake had agreed to that deal I offered her.” He grinned as those last words rolled off his tongue. It was the grin of the devil. “Oh you know how it is Carrot, should’ve would’ve could’ve. Haha-ah!” Deal? He tried to make a deal with my wife?

“Deal, what deal? What did you do to her?”

“Carrot, surely, since High School, you’ve noticed my eye for the lovely lady, yes? This deal would’ve made you both rich, both a part of my empire! Happiness forever! For all of us!” The griffin stood by with a rifle. A rifle. Joe hadn’t answered my question yet.

“What are you talking about Joe? What deal did you make to Cup?”

“Carrot, surely you remember my short temper, yes? I offered her something I couldn’t believe she was finding from you, no offence. Love, Carrot! All of mine. She needed a gentleman by her side, and in my eyes old friend, you didn’t fit the bill well enough. Unleashing those hounds on her, I regret, but alas my anger knows no bound dear friend!” He tried to steal my wife, and killed her because she wouldn’t take his maniacal love. She loved me. Was there any doubt about it? I loved her back, with everything that I had, and I still do. He killed her out of rejection, because with fortune and a life paved in front of her, she chose me and only me instead. Me!

This didn’t wash the survivor’s guilt left behind, but it made me feel a heck of a lot better. Wherever she was, I knew she still loved me as much as I did and still do. I was getting sick of all of this. This night, this whole event, the sugar, Joe, his cronies, this whole building. I’ve lost too much. For all this time I wanted to lose everything, but not now. I only wanted one pony in this entire world to lose it all. Pony Joe.

“Carrot, it’s been fun talking, but my private airship is almost done refueling at top, and I really need to get going. You know how it is, all that flammable gas they have to inject in these private models, takes forever because you have to be so careful, heh.” He said something to the two guards with him that I couldn’t hear through the glass.

“Joe!” I called. He turned his head, barely, but he was listening. “Why was I setup at the train station, I haven’t figured it all out yet.” He laughed behind the glass wall.

“Carrot, oh dear Carrot, you are dense then! Lucky loved money, he needed it too. He was willing to do whatever it took to ensure he got some. He knew you and that Whooves fellow could spell trouble for him, investigating, so he had to do something. You just happened to get away. Nothing personal, just keeping business alive is all.”

“Well friend, nothing personal, but this got personal!” I stood my ground, held a hoof on my holster. Joe simply laughed.

“Farewell old friend, see you later Carrot, on the other side far away from now after I die! Goodbye Carrot!” He laughed, the earth pony following him. This left me and the griffin. He cocked the lever action rifle and grinned cruelly.

“You and me now earthy. You and me!” Griff laughed and walked over to Caesar’s desk. He reached under it and there was a clicking sound, then followed by the grinding roar of engines pulling the glass wall back up into the ceiling. “You and me, time to finish this!” The griffin laughed like an old cartoon villain out of a comic book strip as he lifted himself into the air with his wings. The metal on the rifle glinted in the room’s light.

He flew forward as soon as there room between the floor and window wall, the gun being held flat out in order to catch and push and pin me against the opposite wall. He brought the gun back and made the move to club me with the butt of it, though I managed to move my head aside as the end of it smashed into the wall where my head had formerly been. He apparently didn’t expect the move and become for a second somewhat confused. It was all the time I needed to deliver a kick to his stomach, right under his protective vest. He fell to his side and fired a shot from the floor. It zinged by, hitting the ceiling.

Griff was on the floor, I was standing, in the split seconds that occurred I ran for him, past the bullet. I had a hoof coming at him as he tried to cock the gun for another shot. My force again was surprising, as well as my accuracy. The blow came hard to the left side of his head, and his head spun back to the ground, his neck snapping the progress. The griffin was dead, and Joe was making it topside. I still had one bullet in Lucky’s gun. One bullet, just for Joe.

I ran the direction Joe went, who left every door he and his guard went through wide open, apparently for the griffin, the two of them sure he’d be victorious over an annoyingly lucky and in over his head baker from little old Ponyville. On my way up top (Which was now stairs in an ever narrowing spiral of rooms upward), I stopped at a balcony to get a view above me at the building. The platform was above me, stretched out over the city, and the airship was there, a large hose visible on the balloon. It was still fueling. Looking down there was another site. At the base of the tower a considerable crowd had gathered. The winter storm coming to an end it seemed everyone wanted to be outside now, though it didn’t take long to notice the abundance of vehicles and ponies was actually that of chariots belonging to the Royal Guard and the like. Shining Armor and his troop. The cavalry had arrived. Who tipped them off I had no idea at the time. But it wasn’t time to think about that, it was time to get to the top and finish this.

Heading up more stairs and a few more doors, there was finally one last door. Beyond this door it ended, the crusade, the night, everything. The final showdown. The final bullet.

I unholstered my weapon and went through past the final point of no return.

The airship was still there but the hoses were retracted. The airship was smaller than the one I was on to get here, shaped differently too. And it was rising into the air. I’ve heard of these kinds. The balloons were kept afloat with flammable gases as Joe had said, the balloons kept their shape with metal beams on the inside unlike the bigger ones which were simply air and gas and had to be inflated every time before initial take off. Not this one; metal struts, flammable gas.

Finally a good idea, finally a connection made. I raised the gun, held the sights level to my eye, aiming right for the balloon, not dead center, bust just off of it a little bit. This was the final shot, and by Celestia, it all had to be educated luck. I think that’s what it would have to be. I wasn’t sure.

I fired the gun, releasing the final bullet, the final exclamation point to everything that happened up to this point.

The bullet dug itself into the balloon’s hide, and somewhere inside found one of those metal struts, and made a small yellow spark.

With a shake, a boom, and blindingly bright white light the balloon became an airborne ball of fire. The flames engulfed the whole balloon, the cabin, everything. He landed back on the platform, only partly though as part of it had flew past it. The hanging weight brought the rest of it down past the platform, down to the ground below. I walked up the edge of the platform and watched it fall, a fiery inferno who had nothing better to do other than make up with the ground. I threw Lucky’s gun down with it, to join the hell fire and the demons it engulfed.

Looking up, Princess Celestia brought on the sunrise, the light reflecting on everything here, washing away the dark menace of the city. It was finally over. Behind me I heard the gathering of Armor’s men.

“Freeze!” “Don’t move, you’re under arrest!” “Canterlot Royal Guard, stand down!”

I understood the sign now, though it only seemed to target me.

A bit closer to Heaven.