"I find the phrase 'the ends justify the means' to be a misrepresentation of the Consequentialist world view, for it seeks to demean the agent's views on the means as if they hold no influence upon the ends. A more accurate phrase to embody the philosophy would be this: 'The ends had better justify the means'."
~ Excerpt from the Consiquentialist Libertarian book: Why is Life? Chapter nine: Facts over Feelings
Sin's Sin
Sin took a breath and opened his eyes, his orbital receptors greeted by the typical black and blue emptiness of his mind's blackroom.
He looked around to see if he could find Critic or the Kid about, but neither of them appeared to greet him and offer advice or council on his current predicament.
Three days had passed since he'd gone out with Krystal into the wilds and resolved himself to apologize to Scootaloo for the threat he'd made against her life. Three days since he'd made said apology, and three days since the filly had given him a look of suspicious contempt and muttered out a half hearted and begrudged acceptance.
The glare she gave the ground and huffing, pouting expression she wore gave Sin the full understanding that his apology had gone unaccepted.
The Federalist knew it wouldn't, he knew damn well that what he'd done would scar even an adult with a full understanding of the situation, how could he ever expect her to forgive him? How does one even apologize for threatening to kill you?
Sin didn't know, but for some reason or another, Scootaloo's rejection of his apology enraged him to the core.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. How could he be angry with her? Sin knew how it would play out, how unlikely it was that she wouldn't be receptive to his attempts at mending things between them... but the look on her face, that look of utter contempt, of loathing and begrudged acceptance, after everything he'd done for her.
It made his blood boil, forcing him to walk out the door to cool off before giving her a tongue lashing she wouldn't forget.
He wanted to say things, things he knew would cut her deeply. Things that offered nothing but pain and hurt. To make the foal suffer for her insolence, to make her pay for forgetting the times he'd saved her life. Who did she think she was not accepting his apology?! That little bitch would be dead three times over if it wasn't for him! That fucking littl-
"TAPIO DAMMIT!" Sin shouted into the void, slamming his head against the floor.
He didn't need to ask why he was so angry with her. It wasn't her fault, but then again, it wasn't his either...
A small chill ran through Sin's spine and he took a breath to steal himself against the new presence in the void.
Raising his head, the stallion found himself no longer in the Black Room, but in the White Room, where his dreams and mind's eye would torture him once again.
"Why do you deny it?" A cold, almost lifeless voice asked from behind. Sin's eyes shot wide. That wasn't the sound of the Nightmare, but it was a voice he'd heard before.
The stallion slowly turned his head and fear gripped his chest at what he saw.
The Alicorn of Insanity, while intimidating and formidable, was something Sin had dealt with for many months now. She he could handle without much fear or need of courage, she had a game Sin knew how to play, and she would have been a welcome sight compared to what stood before the pony now.
Swallowing the bile that threatened the back of his throat, Sin tensed himself as he gazed upon the white robed stallion before him. His entire body was covered in ivory, polyester hooded cloak, the tight apron in front coated in a mix of bright red and brown blood that betrayed the violence and gore the pony had committed. Yet, the most striking and horrifying feature had to be the lifeless, plastic mask that hid the stallion's face. The expression of absolute neutrality and indifference to the cautious Sin as he looked into the black and unassuming eye holes.
The Reaper tilted his head and repeated the question. "Why do you deny it?"
His voice was cool, smooth and void of any emotional investment whatever, speaking as if he were asking about a boring summer's day. Considering the horrifying image the being displayed, and the deadly threatening aura he exuded in dreams past, the calm, almost lifeless words were a bone chilling in contrast.
Sin took a breath and lowered his head in defiance. "Deny what?" He snarled in contempt.
Regarding him for a moment, as a curious cat would it's prey, the Reaper answered. "You're desire to kill her."
"What?!" Sin barked a little too loudly. "I don't want to kill Scootaloo!"
"Oh?" The white clad pony asked wryly. "I think we both know that's not very true."
Slowly, the Reaper slowly turned and began circling Sin, his steps somehow stiff and commanding, but casual and relaxed at the same time. "After all, she could have easily gotten you killed, couldn't she?"
Eyes narrowing, Sin should have spoken right away about the moral aspect against what the Reaper had said. He should have told the construct that he'd made a commitment to help and protect her... that it was the... right thing to do... but he didn't.
Instead, the Federalist simply stated: "The kid has made his decision on her. It's out of my hooves."
"The kid." The Reaper spat in a voice that almost showed some sliver of emotion. "The Kid and the Critic. They make life difficult, don't they?"
Sin's jaw gaped just a bit. Never, ever had his subconscious mind ever spoken against the Critic nor the Kid. The fact that this... thing did both intrigued him and more importantly; horrified him.
And yet... the white clad figure spoke truth, no matter how much Sin wanted to deny it. As terrible as it was, had Kid not forced Sin to investigate the incident back in the Everfree and save the foal, she wouldn't have been his concern. Even if it did mean her own death. Slowly, the stallion laxed himself, if only just. "Yes, they do." He admitted before pressing his lips, finding the statement in need of defending. "But their hearts are in the right place."
"Hearts?" The Reaper spoke, his voice taking a contemplative edge. He stood for a moment, as if chewing the word over in his mind. He slowly turned and looked Sin directly in the eye.
"Their hearts are what might get Macintosh killed. Might have gotten you killed."
Muscles tensing, the Federalist bit his lip as anger and indignation coursed through him in an unprecedented display of rage. Not at the Reaper himself, but at his words. It was true, he knew it was true ever since he'd started this little quest of his... but to hear it out loud like that just made his blood boil something fierce.
"Factually true." The stallion conceded. "But an acceptable risk."
"Is it?" The Reaper asked, once again beginning his slow, purposeful circle stride. "Are ponies who actively seek to impede your mission an acceptable risk to take on? Seems to me they're just as much an enemy as the Trotski you hunt."
Again, another wave of irritation and anger forced Sin to halt any immediate retort, settling instead to begin his own circling in order to keep the pony in his line of sight.
The Reaper spoke truth again, and for a second time, Sin found he had no logical response. Logically speaking, it would be easier to abandon the girls and hunt the Trotski all his own. Not to mention he was just as much a threat to them both...
"They wont do it again, not after what happened with Panzy and Clover." Sin stated, finally calming his mind.
"Perhaps." The Reaper said simply. "Perhaps they'll be more rational and stand aside next time... but did they not say they wouldn't allow you to kill? Do you think their Life Worship will end simply because they've suffered pain? Krystal has already shown she didn't want to sever ties to her emotional connection to forgiveness and acceptance, and Luna had all but erased the entire ordeal from Scootaloo's memory." He paused his walking and turned to eye Sin directly in challenge. "What's changed, exactly?"
For the third time, Sin was argued into silence. What had changed since last time? Nothing really. He suspected Krystal would be a bit more receptive to his mission after her experience, but even if he told her he wouldn't kill the Trotski leaders, it didn't guarantee either of the girls would allow him to go off on his own to deal with them. Their own ideas on stopping him being for his own good for... some reason or another. Valiar was a new addition, maybe he could be of use in keeping them busy. It wasn't like he planned to stop-
Sin's looked up and his breathing and mind went on overdrive as the white mask of the Reaper now sat a mere three inches from his face. The stony and unexpressive features of the mask even more disturbing up close.
"You can't stop them." It stated matter of factly. "They are a pair of liabilities, loose ends that will get you and Macintosh, and who knows how many others killed out of their own foolish notions of Life Worship. You know this, Sin. They are no different from the idiots in North New Equine who seek to protect the welfare rats from rightful starvation through their hatred of suffering. You're harboring the very behavior you claim to hate."
Sin's eyes widened, but he couldn't will his body backwards away from the threat, he couldn't move at all. His heart began to thump in his ears as the intense, black slits in the mask's eyes bore down into him like the aura on it's most oppressive.
And again, the Federalist couldn't reply. It... it was true.
Krystal and Scootaloo did protect the Trotski like the Life Worshipers in New Equine protected the incompetent and unfit. They were a burden to him like the parasites were a burden to the productive. Ordered about by the governing body of the country, just like was ordered by the governing body of his mind. And... it was likely he'd be ended by them the same way the welfare rats would end the entire state.
It was a contradiction in values...
"Your hypocrisy isn't your own. It's because of the Critic and the Kid. Your emotional acceptance has made you vulnerable and complacent. It is because of them that you refuse to kill, or at the very least abandon, that which makes you weak..." The Reaper raised his head, forcing Sin to look up at him. "But I can help with that."
...
Sin blinked, and then blinked again as the words sunk in.
"What?" He whispered.
With methodical grace, the Reaper slowly turned and began walking passed Sin, leaving the stallion free from his gaze and to slowly turn and find a sight that almost made his heart stop.
Behind him, the Kid and the Critic both stood, looking at him with passive faces as the Reaper came between the two. "Despite how much you claim to love Anarchy and Libertarian virtues, you comprehend the importance for order and hegemony. Things that, even with or without government, are required for any society or group to function." The blood spattered pony turned. "For without these things, a group of individuals will eventually turn on each other and eat each other alive or worse. Too much chaos of inconsistency in thought and culture will ultimately lead to irreconcilable differences and the destruction of any civilization or... small group."
Both Krystal and Scootaloo materialized from the either, both with faces just as passive and none expressive as the Critic and the Kid.
The Reaper stepped forward and raised his hoof to reveal something that had just appeared in the dreamscape, or Sin simply hadn't noticed until just now.
A long, razor sharp butcher's knife was slowly raised to Scootaloo's throat.
"Diversity of thought for the expansion and challenge of ideas is one thing, but to protect those who wish to kill you is regressive and self destructive. An idea that leads ultimately to needless suffering and death. Unintentional to be certain, but consequences don't care about intent." The white clad pony pressed the blade firmly into the filly's neck and Sin felt his stomach churn as the sound of slipping metal and parting flesh echoed through the void, the smell of iron assaulting the pony as red blood began to pour out of Scootaloo's throat. Her blank stare never once changing in show of the deadly wound before her body simply collapsed onto the floor.
Sin's eyes widened in horror at the filly's limp and lifeless form, but his respite in movement kept him from doing anything to help her.
The Reaper turned to Krystal.
"No..."
"Even those who understand in full the intent to harm and murder would rather cling to their Life Worship and endanger those who seek to protect them." He raised the knife up to the off white mare's throat.
The sound of metal slipping as it dug into her throat made Sin cringe and the second mare fell into a heap just like the filly before her.
Sin's breaths came deeply to him now, his mind a mix between emotions of horror, dread, anger, disappointment, guilt, and an emotion that superseded them all... relief.
Relief that he'd not need to look after them anymore. That he wouldn't need to worry about protecting or feeding, or keeping any promises to either of them anymore. Yea, he was still angry that the Reaper was killing them, but it was like the emotion was in the back ground, a small nagging at the stallion's overtly forced sense of calm and acceptance.
"It feels good, doesn't it?" The Reaper asked, cleaning the blade against his already bloodied cloak. "To be rid of them and the constant frustrations they've caused? To know that their differences will no longer be a factor in your mission to save Macintosh? That order in self-determination has been restored in its rightful place to you and you alone?"
Sin tried to move his mouth to answer in the negative. That he'd had no right to take any pleasure in their loss, that he'd made a promise to both of them to care and look after them, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he answered in the only way he could, with a helpless shake of the head.
"No?" The construct questioned before a mirthless, cynical chuckle escaped it. "Of course not. How could you feel better?
They were not the problem, no. They were merely symptoms of a much greater disease."
Again, the white figure turned, his attention fixed upon the Kid and the Critic. He stood and began to approach them, the blade in his hoof drawn to bear. "A disease in which I shall be the cure."
"NO!"
With every last will of his being, Sin finally found his agency and charged forward. He leapt forth and slammed himself hooves first into the back of the unsuspecting white construct with the full intent to break the thing until there wasn't a pair of bone pieces left to rub together.
"SIN!"
THWAK!
Sin gasped and bolted up, his eyes darting around to find the threat he'd just assaulted. But the blood covered Reaper was nowhere to be seen, nothing but a heavily breathing Krystal standing beside him.
Critic? Critic!
'Sin, Sin calm down. It was just a dream.'
The stallion's chest heaved as he stared at the ground. It was... just a dream? No, it couldn't have been, it felt so... vivid. His feelings of anger, of rage, of loss... they were just as real now as they were when he'd watched the mare standing before him murdered before his eyes as she stood in the low illumination of the fireplace.
"Sin are you okay? You were crying." Krystal said, fear and worry permeating her voice.
The Federalist looked up at her and had to restrain himself from reaching out and taking her in a bone crushing embrace. He lifted a hoof to his cheek and found tears hadn't just wetted the pelt of his cheek, but fully dampened it.
He forced an awkward chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, just had a bad dream."
How's the kid? Is the kid okay?
'He's fine, Sin.' Critic responded calmly. 'We're both fine.'
That's good.
"What was the dream about?" Krystal asked, after another round of questing if the disturbed pony was alright. Sin dismissed her inquiry, stating that it was nothing to worry about. After all, it wasn't really like telling her would do any good, matter of fact, it would probably scar her more than anything.
"You know, if something's bothering you, we can talk about it." She offered.
A sudden spike of irritation and anger shot through Sin's spine like a red hot bolt from a crossbow. He bit his tongue to keep his words in check. She couldn't know about it, it wasn't his place to harm her like that, not after everything he'd put her through.
"Thanks, but it's nothing." He managed through the best smile he could force.
Unsatisfied, but accepting, Krystal went back to her place on the couch to stand watch for the night while Sin turned away from her to pretend to go back to sleep. But with the new monstrosity that he knew awaited him in the white room, sleep was the last thing the stallion ever wanted to do again.