//------------------------------//
// Good Heavens, would you just look at the time! 
// Story: Its High Noon 
// by CroakyEngine 
//------------------------------//

	
“Let's start at the beginning, shall we?”

It was a great day.

What? I have to say more? What do you mean narrate properly? I’m doing a perfectly fine job!

…

You wouldn’t dare. I’ve been saving up those apple pies since forever! Alright FINE, I’ll do it your way.

The Appleloosa sun is not forgiving. It never has been, and it will never falter. Countless attempts to beg Celestia to lower the sun just a tad during the height of summer have failed. Well, most of them anyways. There was that one day where the sun didn’t bother to show up entirely, but I don't think that's because of our petitions.

The ponies who worked underneath the sun were also not very forgiving. This one burly bully called Trouble Shoes destroyed my cart just the other day! Like the sun, they were also consistent, hardy and despite their tough work the Appleloosans remained headstrong.

There was one, tiny little problem, though. There are bandits, a lot of bandits. Sure, you have them occasionally popping up all over the place in Equestria, although in Canterlot I believe they’re called business managers, or some such nonsense. But Appleloosa, hoo boy, that’s a whole different story. You can’t walk five metres outside of Appleloosa without bumping into one of them. The only safe way to travel is the Friendship Express, but that train only ever seemed to carry a bunch of snobby kids who goes by the name of ‘Elements of Harmony’.  I guess they're some sort of big-shots from the city or something, and not a very good one if you ask me.

To be honest, though, most of the bandits around these parts are pretty harmless. They just wander aimlessly and act really tough. In fact, I once brought a glass of lemonade to one of them once. He even said thanks! But then, everything changed about 3 years ago: each  summer since then, on the day when the sun is at its highest (Not to be confused with the Summer Sun Celebration, which usually happens later in the afternoon), the bandits come together and rob the town. I guess they couldn't get themselves enough money off the occasional adventurous* ponies, so they decided to get serious.

As you can probably predict, this is a problem. The sheriff even says so.

A hard hoof came slamming down onto the table. The collected ponies within the small station flinched. The cigar lay skewed in the sheriff’s mouth. They all strained their ears to hear his everlasting wisdom, said to rival that of even Princess Celestia and her niece moonbutt or something.

“This is a problem,” he said finally, and nodded to himself, utterly satisfied with the gaping jaws that could only make goldfish like motions at his brilliance.

Of course, despite the hundred or so ponies outside of Appleloosa for this day, business went on as usual. Sure, the bandits were mean and said harsh words as well as acronyms that I can’t understand (like what does kys even mean? Killer Yeti Sandals?), they were still gold customers. Namely, gold that they stole from us in the last raid.

Market stands with fresh produce were being set up, and the bandits and shopkeepers were discussing plans for the day, like how much money the bandits were going to take, how many ponies they were going to threaten, how the mayor’s daughter has been doing, etc.

As the mayor always likes to say, commerce was the epitome of pony society.

“Commerce is the epitome of pony society,” said the mayor proudly as he looked over the flourishing commerce between the market and the bandits. “It is crucial for a successfully ran town.”

In fact, now that I think about it, he just likes the term commerce a lot.

“How can you solve our bandit problem, Mr Mayor?” asked a reporter excitedly as the others quietened down to hear the mayor’s response. The mayor thought for a moment and patted his sharp suit.

“Commerce,” said the mayor with a smile. The crowd of reporters and journalists quickly swarmed in again for another tidal wave of questions. A skinny earth pony stallion was chosen this time.

“Mr Mayor, how are we to rebuild the town after the bandits have robbed us thoroughly?”

Again, the mayor answered with a smile. The answer, despite being exactly the same as the last dozen ones, still managed to send journalists scrambling to note this latest development.

“Commerce.”

“Mr Mayor, Mr Mayor! Is your daughter single?”

And so it went on like that. After the annual session of interviews with the mayor regarding the bandit problem, the real work would begin. However, this year, something rather bizarre would happen. In the end it all begun with an offhand comment from my cousin, Braeburn.

“I think we’re going to have quite a dandy high noon today,” he said with a proud smile. I didn’t really see the sense of it, as the apple orchards were usually the first to be stripped in this annual event. Then again, he is known to be particularly short sighted at times-

Ohh a butterfly!

Ahem, where was I? Oh yes. This year was quite different indeed. As soon as I heard that comment, I felt this shiver going right through me. It was downright weird and I thought I could hear someone whisper in my ear. It sounded a bit like…

“Press the fricking q button you noob!”

“Did you hear something?” asked Braeburn. I shrugged.

The raid started out quite the same as it always did, with the long, winding speeches given by the bandits’ captain, Blackseed, on how the town of Appleloosa was rightfully theirs and that we should surrender immediately.

Of course, the sheriff stepped forward, as usual, and rebutted with his own outstanding speech that rivalled his previous wisdom in pure magnificence.

“We’re not gonna let ya.”

A round of cheers went up, some were war cries while others fawned over his bravery. Mine were among them but I respectively refrain from answering which of the two categories I belonged in.

Then came the hoof wrestling. As usual, the bandit captain lost, and both parties offered each other GGs and ‘back luck mate’. As the sheriff put it, to do otherwise would be bad sportsmanship.

“To do otherwise would be bad sportsmanship.” His followers quickly nodded and went over to offer their congratulations on how well and how masculine the bandit captain looked. Autographs were signed and handed out all around.

The bandit captain then declared war on the town of Appleloosa. Turns out the hoof wrestling actually had nothing to do with it and the two ponies just wanted to have a go at each other. Each time, though, ponies fainted at such ‘brute behaviour’ and ‘uncivilized conduct’.

“Such brute behaviour!” exclaimed a trottingham mare with thick accent.

“Oh what uncivilized conduct!” exclaimed another, this one a Canterlotian.

What were they doing here in Appleloosa? Acting. Incestuous romance stories involving two Apples from the same tree (if you get what I mean) are apparently a big deal in Appleloosa and brought in lots of profit. Of course, the mayor had something to say about all of this.

“Theatrics is good for commerce,” he observed with satisfaction as the bandits begun the total takeover.

But the different part I was talking about before? You see, this year the bandits didn’t actually make it into the town itself. No, they were stopped by something. Or should I say someone.

His name was High Noon.

It wasn't actually, he was McCree, but I always thought High Noon sounded a lot better.

Blackseed didn’t take to the intrusion well, and the mayor was at least partially disturbed by the interruption to his job and growth plan.

“Who da frickety frick are you?!” demanded Blackseed. Everypony held their breath, as no one, in the history of the Appleloosa had ever so openly (and silently) defied Blackseed. And here was a hairless primate wearing a patterned tablecloth along with a rip-off of Applejack’s Stetson. He also had what appeared to be a mechanical left arm, though later analysts put that off as merely tribal markings, as biotechnology was impossible.

“Its high noon,” he said in a peculiar western drawl. The seconds passed as nothing happened. Sensing that it was safe to continue, the Bandit Captain rallied his troops.

“Alright boys, let this hairless ape have it. We’ll teach him why we aren’t to be messed with!” shouted Blackseed along with an incredibly masculine war cry. While many would cringe or shy away, this didn’t seem to bother McCree one bit. Instead, he simply smirked and reached for his belt, pulling out a strange metal and piston shaped device.

When he looked up, he saw that no less than fifty ponies rushed at him, each brandishing menacing armour and lethal weaponry. And then, in a flash, McCree moved.

And nopony could believe it.

Phantom red rings formed onto the bodies of the charging ponies, and within moments McCree’s strange contraption rapidly fired once, twice, thrice, fourth and so on. It didn’t stop until all fifty ponies lay on the ground, groaning as they clutched their limbs in torment.

“You done?” remarked McCree as he blew away the vapours coming out of the nozzle of his weapon.

All of the ponies who were ‘shot’ collectively blinked and looked over themselves. It took a moment before they realized none of the shots had actually landed and that they were completely and utterly in perfect health.

It should be noted that McCree belongs to an alien race known as the Hew-Muns (Not to be confused with the legendary Hugh-Mungus) and that they, like him, were mainly bipeds. As such, their centre of body was much, much higher than that of a normal pony, with the exception of Alicorns. Therefore, all the shots had simply whizzed past over their heads and hit nothing but distant rocks.

A squeal of fear went out as all eyes trained onto Blackseed, who was acting in a very un-masculine manner as he looked over each of his comrades. McCree smirked again and advanced towards the oblivious Blackseed. His previous aggressors were now making a clear path around him as they shied away. (This would later become an instinctual reflex passed down through the genes of their descendants.)

Finally, he reached Blackseed and yanked him up by his waist. Sharp gasps rang out among both the Appleloosans and the bandits as accusations and fears were thrown about.

“He’s gonna kill him!”

“He’s gonna eat him!”

“He’s gonna force feed him brussel sprouts!”

Each accusation was more violent and brutal than the previous, and it continued until McCree held up a hand, signalling silence among the collected. Nobody dared to utter a single word more.

With a single hand, he reached down to Blackseed’s mane and pulled sharply. For a second, it almost looked as if McCree was going to yank off Blackseed’s head from its shoulders! But, with a snap like that of a rubber band, a mask was flung away and landed in a heap on the ground.

It was then that Blackseed turned out to be a mare!

The crowd collectively gasped as behind the mask of Blackseed, it revealed a beautiful azure mare with big, blue eyes.

“What a plot twist!” shouted a small voice somewhere in the distance.

The unmasked mare looked fearfully at McCree, knowing in her heart that her time was near an end. But she was at peace with herself. She had a good, masculine life full of pillaging and looting, but she only wished she could be with a certain somepony in her last moments–

“My love!” All heads whipped around to see the mayor valiantly leaping over his elevated platform and swan dived gracefully before not so gracefully landing face first onto the ground. He lay still for a moment before raising his right hoof in what can only be a sign of an ultimate rebel. “I’m okay!”

So it was revealed that the Mayor knew all along that Blackseed was, in fact, a mare. Not only that, they were secretly in love with each other ever since that one raid years ago. Of course this new development meant that he would likely be forfeit his position, but that didn’t bother him.

The mayor stood up again, and this time with a fierce look of determination, he charged at McCree, hoping to defend his true love.

“Arrghh, don’t you dare touch her!”

“Acknowledged,” answered McCree, as he stepped backwards and off the path of the charging mayor. The mayor, meanwhile, stumbled as he was preparing something hard and bipedal to combat his forward momentum, and landed face first in the dusty sand.

A wave of sympathetic ‘ooh’ and ‘ahhh’s rang through the onlooking crowd. Quickly bearing himself again, he looked at McCree with a shocked expression.

“You’re not gonna, you know, kill her?”

“Don’t much like shooting a lady,” said McCree calmly as he put a cigar into his mouth, enjoying its earthy tastes. He shot a meaningful glance at Blackseed. “Besides, seems my work here is done. These bandits would think twice before raiding this town again.”

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, signalling McCree’s time is at an end.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a high noon elsewhere in the world, and I do believe I got some unfinished business to do.” With that, he disappeared in a blast of holy light so intense, it blinded the bandits for a few seconds.

“Sweetheart~!” called out the mayor as he ran forward and enveloped Blackseed in a crushing hug. In their eyes, one could see the years of pure, unbridled love being exchanged between the two ponies.

“And then they kissed, the mayor furiously making out with Blackseed, whose blush rivalled that of even Braeburn when he was reunited with Big Mac-”

>>^---^<<

“Wait a gosh darn second, none of that crocket happened!” exclaimed Braeburn, his cheeks were ever so slightly darker than before, his thoughts no doubt lingering upon that fateful night he shared with Big Macintosh. “And I can still hear your narrating!”

“Don’t be silly. Of course it happened,” I said dismissively, ignoring his second sentence completely.

“Did not!”

“Did so! Besides, I saw you and Mac making out the last time he visited!”

“Hey! That’s spying!”

“Didn’t need to. You guys were being so loud, the sound waves manifested as imagery!”

Braeburn turned to his cousin Applejack for help.

“Sorry, partner, but yer guys were really loud tha’ night. Sorta the reason I never brought Mac ‘long with me anymore,” said Applejack with a sheepish grin, much to the disbelief of Braeburn.

“Fine then, so maybe Mac and I were a little too excited, but that’s still not what happened!”

“Right then, smarty pants, what did you think happened?” I demanded.

“Well, it went like this…”

>>^---^<<

The sun beat down towards my forehead, but I ignored it for I needed to be vigilante, if not for myself then for my ponies. I looked across my battlefield, for I was the commander. I glanced across to my first lieutenant, the town sheriff, who gave me a curt nod with nary a grimace at our odds. I nodded back and looked to my left, where my second lieutenant, Cherry Jubilee sat in a chair, a confident smirk on her face.

Opposite of our battle formations, I see a sea of bandits and the worst scum of the earth. I narrowed my eyes, and a plan was already forming in my head. My musings were interrupted as somepony spoke.

“Commander Braeburn, they have too many stallions! What are we to do!?” exclaimed a colt. I tousled his mane fondly and smiled.

“Hmm, leave to that to me, for I have a secret weapon!” The colt gaped in admiration as I took the helm and walked forward to meet my opponent – Blackseed.

“We meet at last, O glorious Commander Braeburn. I have heard many stories about you, all good of course,” he said, giving me an appraising look.

I cast Blackseed a disdainful look.

“And so have I, though I suppose your stories are only as good as that befitting a villain!”

“Oh such harsh words scorn me, commander. But let’s not tally longer, and get straight to it. I’m going to invade your town, and take everything.”

“I see… so we are cast into our roles; you the villain and me the hero. Fate is much too cruel as it seems. My answer, of course, is no.”
“So be it then. There’s only one thing we can do to decide our course of action!”

“Aye. Sheriff Silverstar! Defend the honour of the Apppleloooosans!” The sheriff nodded and stepped forward, like the damn strong and sexy stallion he is, facing down the infamous Blackseed with naught a single flinch. They both sat down, and raised their forehooves.

“Begin!”

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

The crowd clambered over to see the results. Two rocks. Sighs of relief were accompanied by groans of disappointment as everypony went back to their positions. Sweat broke out across the Sheriff’s forehead, but he didn’t move to wipe it as he saw that Blackseed was in a similar condition. This was going to be intense, he thought.

“Round two!” I declared.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

Again, there was a draw. Two rocks, again. I grounded my teeth as I silently analysed the situation. If this was a cliché movie, the good sheriff would surely lose the last round. There must be some other way… bah, I can improvise this.

“Last round! Whoever wins this, wins the entire thing!”

“But, commander, what if they draw again?” asked that same colt from before. I chuckled at his naiveness. Foals, they just don’t understand how the world works.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get to it. Begin!”

“Rock, paper, scissors!” The two ponies looked down at their respective hooves.

“I won!” roared Blackseed as he held his outstretched hoof, raising cheers and whistles from his bandit friends. “I did paper, and paper beats rock! Suck it, sheriff!”

“What the- no you didn’t, that’s a rock!” rebuked the Sheriff, pointing at Blackseed’s hoof. The crowd looked at the hoof, and saw that it was indeed in the shape of a solid rock.

“Wait a minute, if our hooves only look like rocks, how do we win this game!?” exclaimed somepony in the crowd. Murmurs of agreements spread through the crowd like wildfire.

Perhaps using a game invented by Minotaurs wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“That’s it! You Appleloosans played foul! Ponies, attack!” roared Blackseed as he galloped back to his ranks of hardened bandits. With a thunderous war cry, they rushed towards the town ponies, trampling everything in their path.

“Appleloosans, defend your home!” I shouted with a rallying cry. My soldiers returned it and we stood side by side. Of course, by that I meant my soldiers stood side by side in front of me while I lounged on my platform at the back, shouting commands. I turned to give Cherry Jubilee, my third in command, the go ahead, but she was already gone. Turning back to the battlefield, I grinned.

Poor bastards won’t know what hit them.

The first line of defenders twirled around as they sensed a Cherry Jubilee shaped being sneak up on them. Of course, by sneaking up, I meant she casually strode forward. I mean she wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle.

“Aha! We got you–”

“Where I wanted,” finished Jubilee as she went low and kicked up a cloud of dust, blinding her would be attackers. When they shook the sand out of their eyes and other vulnerable holes, Jubilee was gone.

“Darlings, you really need to learn a thing or two about combat,” purred Jubilee as she popped up in between the two unsuspecting stallions. Before they could react, though, her hooves whipped out and grappled both of their heads and slammed it against each other.

“Rule one! Don’t ever put tomatoes in a fruit salad!” The bandits looked at her in confusion. “Oops, wrong set of rules.”

The bandits nodded in understanding as such things really were easily mistaken with each other. Foodstuff and the art of warfare really were inseparable. When they looked to her again, they instead saw a rising shadow headed straight for their heads.

It was, decidedly, the last thing they will see in quite some time.

However, despite how well Jubilee was doing, the rest of my defenders weren’t coping as well as her.

“Commander, our defences are being overrun! The whole left flank is collapsing!” shouted one of the defenders before getting creamed in the face. I glanced meaningfully at the sheriff, and he returned it with a grim but determined nod. I didn’t think it would come to this, but alas, I have to.

“Activate the SAB!” I exclaimed to the top of my lungs.

SAB, standing for Strategic Apple Bombardment, was a strategic manoeuvre founded after the great buffalo incident of Appleloosa. A dozen ponies immediately went to work as huge machines were brought out, with tubes spanning the distance between them and the apple orchards.

“Load the apples and prepare to fire!”

The army of scums came closer and closer as I raised my hoof.

“Not yet, not yet!”

They were almost within spear throwing range when I dropped my hoof and roared, “Fiiiirre!”

Truly, it was a beautiful thing to see, my children launching themselves from the canons in salvos as they destroyed the first line of attackers. I believed I shed tears when I saw the results, tears of proudness that is.

“Reload!” yelled the Sheriff, while his two shot boomstick thumped in time with his shouts. The ponies working the SAB rushed to do so, but the attackers had already noticed the lull in the bombardment and were Zerg rushing en masse.

Several tactically pony piles later, the SAB was unfortunately disabled, as gears, pipes and parts lay sporadically on the ground. At the time, I thought to myself, is this it? Is this the end of the great commander Braeburn, the last of his line?

Well, maybe, not the last per se, as the Apple family is quite gargantuan.

Nevertheless, I braced myself for the end, or at the very least watched as my first line of defence prepared to be instantly crushed by the opposing force. And then it happened.

A meteor of fire and dust crashed in the midst of the two clashing army, throwing the ponies nearly one hundred and thirty inches back, and forming a small crater from its impact.

The cloud of dust settled, and a dark shape rose from the depression. The creature, a biped it seems, was wearing a wide brimmed Stetson along with a patterned poncho. He, it looked like a he, stood there with his two hands clipping on his belt, smirking like there’s no tomorrow.

“Who the heck are you?”

The strange creature didn’t answer for a while, likely for dramatic effect. Either that or he couldn’t actually talk. However, it seems that he probably didn’t do too well in his drama class, as nine tumbleweeds rolled past before he answered. NINE! The maximum was three! Finally, just as the Bandit Captain was becoming too impatient and prepared to go ahead with the final push, the creature looked over his shoulder and spoke.

“The name's McCree. Nice to meet y’all.”

His enemies momentarily stunned by the massive amounts of edginess radiating from him, McCree swiftly took the opportunity to buck the face in of the leader of the charging attackers.

“I take it that you’re a friend then,” I said, extending a hoof of gratitude and respect. He shook it and gave a nod back, looking at me in the eye. My lieutenant offered the same, and for a moment I could see the connection sparking between the two.

“Aye, in these lands justice ain’t gonna dispense itself.”

“Ain’t that the Celestia damned truth,” replied the Sheriff. Behind his bushy moustache, I’d like to imagine he was smiling. I looked to the bandits, who were seething with anger. This mysterious ally had arrived just in the nick of time.

“Well then, let’s see what you can do, McCree.” He gave me a curt nod and charged forward at the tide of the invasion forces. In a single heave, he slammed into a trio of bandits, his pure brunt knocking them either unconscious or aside. The closest attackers slowly started to back away, but found themselves grappled by his long arms and launched into the sky.

The battle was on again, and this time the tide was in our favour.

The Appleloosan defenders rushed onwards with their new ally into the now confused and slightly terrified enemies. Hooves, shovels, picks and an assortment of improvised weapons were all used. It was ugly, I admit, but it was ugly in the most magnificent way possible. Gradually, the waves of attackers were driven back, until they were all but pushed outside the town limits. The Appleloosans were regaining their morale and confidence, and it showed. Then of course, there was McCree.

A cloud of dust came up as a small metal cylinder was tossed onto the ground. The ponies caught within its vicinity were momentarily stunned and spent precious moments to clear their vision. Unfortunately, that was enough time for McCree as he came up close and fanned his hammer, discharging brass at the speed of light.

Without looking, he sensed that two more attackers were coming up behind him, no doubt trying to ambush him. He dived to the right, and not a second later two spears struck the empty space where he was at. Coming out of a sideward roll, McCree quickly righted himself and pulled out his weapon.

“Draw!”

The revolver fired two times and both ponies collapsed.

“Like sittin’ ducks,” said McCree, an almost smug smile forming on his lips.

Not to be outdone in front of his ponies, the Sheriff charged past and rammed against the unfortunate bandit in his path. His momentum didn’t stop there, as he pushed forward with the pony still in front of him and using the bandit as a shield. A split moment later he barrelled through a trio of unsuspecting attackers.

“Nicely done,” commented McCree. In his momentary lapse of concentration, however, another spear whizzed past McCree… by a margin of about ten metres.

“You gotta work on that aim,” said McCree with a rueful shake of his head before twirling around and snapping out his left leg, his boot solidly impacting against the offending bandit. A meaty thud later and he was seen flying across the chaotic battlefield.

The good fight wore on from all fronts as the townsponies circled around the shrinking number of attackers. Soon, there was only one left on the battlefield.

Blackseed raised his sword, pointing it towards McCree. The rest of the defenders had finally caught up to him, but stopped as McCree raised his hand in a fist. The intention was clear; this one was his.

“Well, we meet at last,” said Blackseed, giving McCree an appraising eye. “Very impressive.”

“Do I know you?” asked McCree, casually glancing at the mounts of unconscious and incapacitated bandits.

“You may not know me, but I know you… Joel.” McCree’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at the mare who dared to bring up the name.

“Now I don’t know where you heard that name from, but it’s not mine. Best remember that before I find a bullet with your name on it.”

“Ha! As if I would be intimidated by something fired from that piece of garbage.” As Blackseed said so, a bead of sweat rolled down his back and he pointedly avoided looking at his downed minions.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked McCree, his trigger hand flexing eagerly as it hovered above his holstered revolver. The stallion, however, just took a step forward and spat into McCree’s face. The onlookers inhaled in shock and watched as a scowl formed on McCree’s face.

“Before I was just dealing out justice,” said McCree, before staring intensely at the stallion. “Now it’s personal.”

Nopony could tell for sure who moved first, for there was a sudden ring of dust. For a long time, all anypony could here were grunts and banging which could’ve been completely misinterpreted in an utterly immature and inappropriate way. When ponies could see clearly again it was McCree who finally stood triumphant and–

HOLY SHIT THOSE ABS

Anyways, I was, ahem, getting a bit side tracked. Just… reminiscing about the events. Don’t look under the table.

AHEM! Where was I? Oh yes.

There he stood, his Celestia damned perfection of a chest strutting as he stood there, one leg on top of Blackseed. It seemed that in the conflict prior the poncho was somehow ripped off of him, along with half his pants. In fact, the only thing that hid his equipment, staff of gods, meat piston, whatever you want to call it, was a strange plaque on his belt with the words ‘BAMF’ imprinted across it.

Unfortunately, as he was proudly presenting his proud abs to the entirety of Appleloosa (yes, even the foals), Blackseed managed to roll out from underneath him and regained his stance, although lacking her sword.

“Surrender,” declared McCree, half of his cigar somehow still penetrated deep inside his mouth despite the earlier scuffle.

“Never!” hissed Blackseed, literally barring his non-existent fangs. In the (again none-existent) nail biting moment, nopony saw the mayor slip away, unnoticed.

McCree took out his six shot revolver and levelled it at Blackseed. A cold chill broke out over Blackseed’s spine. Looking around him, he saw no other option but to play his final trump card.

More specifically, the Damsel in Distress trump card.

With one resounding slap, Blackseed pulled a mask off and revealed a mare underneath!

“Hah! Wait now a moment. I’m a mare, you can’t shoot me! That would be sexist!” said Blackseed with a victorious laugh, though still slowly inching away from the biped cowboy. 

“True, but wouldn’t it be more sexist to not shoot you because you’re a mare?” asked McCree, as Blackseed stopped cold.

“Damn, I didn’t take that into account,” said Blackseed. McCree gave her an ‘I’ll-give-you-some-time-think-about-it look, to which she gratefully accepted. Half a minute later she popped back into action. “Aha! What about your morals, huh? How would you feel about shooting a… a lady?”

“I don't like shooting a lady. But for you, I'll make an exception.” The weak laugh died down from her throat. She moved towards her fallen sword but McCree intercepted her by moving in the way. “I’ll try one last time. Surrender!”

“I surrender!”

“Wish granted.” The revolver fired, and the crowd held their breath. The bullet was spat out of the nozzle in all slow motion, creating a distortion in air the around it. The bullet struck the mare solidly in the chest, and she stumbled, then collapsed to the ground.

Nopony spoke for a long minute, with the only sound being the rustling of the tumbleweed drifting across the dusty plains. McCree’s smug smile shrunk as his mind went over what Blackseed had just said more carefully.

“Shoot, I thought she was going for the tough act again,” said McCree, with a touch degree of shame and remorsefulness.

“Wait… she surrendered! How could you… y-you monster!” exclaimed one of the recovering bandits, the full extent of his disgust at his actions staining his voice.

“Hey, I tried to be reasonable, didn’t take to it. Besides, she could’ve just outed the first time I asked her.” McCree yelled back, shrugging and back to his original carefree attitude.

The ground chose to explode at that point, and the Mayor, dressed in a saucy metal armour rose up through the hole, a medieval sword between his teeth.

“Blackseed! I am here to save you-” The sentence was cut off when he saw the lying form of Blackseed. Collapsing to his knees, he looked on with despair and utter devastation.

“Well my job here is done.” With a tip of his hat and a hasty trademark smirk, McCree was gone, with nothing but and marking and a set of footprints to show where he was. Silence reigned until the clip clop of the mayor’s running shook everyone out of their reverie.

The mayor, tears running down the side of his cheek, reached Blackseed and held her in his grasp.

“H-how could this happen…? I never got the chance to tell you, b-but, I love you!” cried the mayor. Shocked expressions ran rampant through the Appleloosans at his confession. Never had they thought that today the story of two star crossed lovers would play out before their very eyes.

“Oh, the tragedy!” cried out someone.

And a tragedy it was. Blackseed twitched in the mayor’s grasp, and the mayor quickly held her hooves, straining his ears to hear what she might say.

“Perhaps, in another life, we… could’ve been… lovers…” And with that, Blackseed was gone, her hoof limp in the Mayor’s desperate grasp.

“NNOOOOOO!” It was said that it took the strength of twenty ponies to pull him away.

“Annnnd cut! That was good, ponies! I think we really got it this time around,” I said, pulling off my commander hat and putting on my director one instead. The set of the Appleloosan street collapsed to reveal the inside of a huge studio, even as glaring lights were turned off and lifted above the set pieces. Blackseed rose from the dead and took a sip from a nearby martini on the refreshments table.

“That was really good Director Braeburn! But, uh, just who was that McCree guy that appeared in the middle of the filming?” asked one of my interns. I gave the colt my most confident smile.

“I have no bucking idea.”

>>^---^<<

“And that’s what really happened,” finished Braeburn, sipping from a small tankard full of Apple Cider. His speech was becoming increasingly slurred and his face flushed with redness.

“That’s a cute story Brae,” I remarked flatly. “Perhaps the only criticism that I have is that none of it was the damn truth.”

“I see you have a hypocrite streak in you,” bit back Braeburn.

“Why you little-”

A scuffle broke out as the two stallions started to fight each other, hooves slamming into each other as they both tried to force the other to submit through force. Little did they know, that a thousand miles away in a strange world called reality, they were currently being judged in the presence of a higher being.

Sometimes that being was referred to as she who raised eyebrows.

Applejack looked towards her friends and then back at Braeburn, who was sleeping soundly with another unnamed stallion, occasionally mumbling. Alongside them were roughly one hundred bandits and rival the number in townsponies that also lay unconscious on the ground.

“Well… darn it, Mac’s going to be heart broken.”

“Any idea what happened here, ma’am?” asked a nearby Royal Guard, who was scratching his head at the bizarre scene before him.

“Nope,” came the deadpan reply from Applejack, and she gave one last look at the snuggling form of Braeburn. “And ah’m not sure ah want t’ know either.”

Somewhere far away, McCree was chuckling.


The End