//------------------------------// // Episode 01: Wanted Mare, Part I // Story: Bulletproof Heart // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// 25th of Burning Season, 1005 BA If Rarity could be credited with nothing else, she could at least say her work was high quality. Whether it be fancy dresses and elaborate hats or – far more commonplace – work clothes, she was determined to ensure her clients only got the best. Which is precisely why she was up at the break of dawn eyeing her inventory and checking the needs of her store. She’d started out with a simple audit: what fabrics and tools were running low, where had she overcompensated, would she need to buy extra for the first half of the Burning Season? These were simple considerations, quick to complete thanks to six years of practice and a finely tuned system of recordkeeping. Within an hour, she’d finished. With the mundane part of her day complete – not that there was such a thing as ‘mundane’ in fashion, perish the thought! – she proceeded to the more endearing part of her morning routine. She stepped into the display room of her shop, the Wagon Train Clothier. It featured a wide circular space of hardwood, white walls and floors. Not a speck of dirt marred the floor and the windows were spotless. And the displays? Absolutely marvelous, if she said so herself. Which she did. But not… quite… perfect. Rarity drifted from display to display, eyeing the creases and adjusting hats. The scissors and thread floating in her horn’s blue magical aura were utilized with passion to weed out nefarious misalignments, snip sneaky loose strings, and perform the occasional length adjustment. While it was true that the majority of the items in the store were simple workpony clothes of cotton and denim, that didn’t mean they should be treated with any less attentiveness and dignity than an exquisite evening gown. Speaking of which, her eyes roamed towards the corner of the shop devoted to such things. It wasn’t much, but they were her designs, and she’d display them proudly regardless of how few of them sold. Such as that poor ‘Desert Mist’ dress with its pale colors and frilly lace. The dear thing was one of her earliest works since arriving in the little village of Spurhoof, but it had lingered on the display for the last five years. Perhaps nopony would ever buy it. Yet, as she ran her fingers along its silky surface, she found she didn’t mind. The old dress was like the store’s landmark, and she’d certainly receive questions if it were to disappear. “Good morning, Miss Belle.” Her ears perked to the familiar, weary voice. She looked up to see Coco descending the stairs. Blouse half-tucked, top three buttons askew, random hairs poking out of her mane and tail, bags beneath the eyes. The appearance of her assistant almost made Rarity cringe, but she kept her composure with the ease of practice. “Good morning, Miss Pommel. I say, Darling, you look like you could use another hour or two.” Running a finger through her short, tangled mane, Coco blinked her bleary eyes. “I’ll be alright, Miss. You’re planning on going out this morning, right? I should be up to work the shop.” Her eagerness brought a smile to Rarity’s lips. “I appreciate the thought, but you shouldn’t sacrifice your beauty sleep. The store will be fine if it opens an hour or two late.” “Nope. I’m good.” Coco earned some points for effort, but even placing her hands on her hips and taking on a determined pose couldn’t mask the weariness in her voice. “Just need some coffee. I can take a nap after you get back.” A moment passed as Rarity considered refusing the offer. Coco always seemed so eager to prove herself and had a tendency to take things too far. No doubt she’d been up late practicing her sewing again. Rarity would be called a hypocrite for denying anypony the option of hard work, and rightly so, but there came times when she had to put her hoof down. Then again, if she said no Coco might think she didn’t trust her to run the shop on her own. A-ha! There was the scheme. Rarity barely managed to avoid a smirk as she sauntered up to her assistant and housemate. Coco’s effort to appear determined was just too precious, especially with her cheeks puffed up like that. Taking on the proper role of a hardmuzzled boss, Rarity crossed her arms, raised a fist and rested her chin on it, a lone finger on her cheekbone. The long look she settled upon Coco was set for maximum harshness, even as she giggled like a filly on the inside. Coco did her best to hold the façade, but her effort to impress by sheer presence couldn’t hold up considering her disheveled mane, loose blouse, and the growing red in her cheeks. Fearing the poor thing would break in some way if she kept this up too long, Rarity finally let her smile loose. “All right, you may watch the shop for a while.” All pretense disappeared in a flash as Coco clasped her hands and gained a grin that would challenge Celestia’s Sun for brightness. “Really?” “Of course. You’ve been my assistant for months now. I think it’s time I trusted you with the responsibility.” Rarity took a moment to pick at a wrinkle on the shoulder of Coco’s blouse. “But only if you promise to make yourself presentable. We can’t have the guests greeted by a bad case of bedmane, now can we?” “Thank you!” Coco gave her a quick hug and turned for the stairs. Rarity stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “Ah-ah! And you must promise to take that nap. I won’t have my assistant burning herself out because of overeagerness.” “It’s a promise. Thank you so much, Miss Belle! I won’t let you down, I’ll hold the fort while you’re gone.” Coco half-walked, half-danced up the stairs, all smiles and giggles. “I’m sure you won’t.” Rarity didn’t know if she’d been heard, but it didn’t matter. Coco, watching the store on her own. Truly, the dear had been ready for it two months ago, but Rarity had been waiting for her to take some initiative. Coco was prepared not an hour later, dutifully manning the counter with her appearance properly attended to. She reassured Rarity again and again that things would go well, to the point that escaping out the door was something of a relief. Still, Rarity couldn’t fault her eagerness. Coco would make a fine seamstress. Perhaps one day she’d move away from this little backwater town and open a store of her own. Wouldn’t that be nice? Stepping outside, Rarity was promptly set upon by the harsh Burning Season sun. Tipping her white, wide-brimmed hat to block the stinging rays, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. The tiny village of Spurhoof appeared before her, and ‘tiny’ was something of an understatement. Or was that ‘overstatement’ in this case? With less than a hundred souls, it barely even warranted a proper street. Dirt paths flattened by thousands of repeated hoofsteps over the years acted as the only things separating the old, worn buildings. ‘Dirt’ described everything about Spurhoof, from the roads to the scenery to the ponies. From any door, one needed only turn their head a little to see the distant horizon of bland hills and rocks. And to think she’d once thought she’d be in Manehattan by now. Those old dreams seemed so foolish today. “No sense thinking about the past, Rarity.” With a firm nod, she performed one last check to ensure her dress was immaculate – though it wouldn’t be for long – and she had the things she needed in her purse. Snapping her umbrella open, she stepped into town. Ponies already moved about the buildings, early risers looking to get some things done before the heat truly kicked in. They all wore simple clothing – jeans and shirts, blouses and skirts, the occasional hat – and this always led to Rarity being the most eye-catching mare on the streets with her fancy gowns. Especially now, before the sand and dust that seemed to linger in the air invaded. Not that she begrudged the townsponies their choice of attire, especially considering it all had been made by her hand and horn. There were others in town capable of sewing and producing clothing, of course. A small place like Spurhoof demanded its citizens develop a great many skills in order to survive. Yet Rarity was the only one to have made a business out of it, and her efforts had rewarded her with a monopoly. Nopony bothered making their own clothing when they could just buy them from her for a slightly higher price than the materials themselves were worth. And Rarity? She’d become one of the wealthier citizens in town. But not quite as wealthy as she needed to be. Her destination came in sight: Spurhoof’s very own branch of Howler’s Bank. Not that this was a special thing, of course. It seemed every town in Equestria, no matter how small, had at least one. It was a squat structure, not very appealing on the outside, and with only a simple wooden sign that hung limply from some iron chains to mark its identity. Citizens of Spurhoof cared more about practicality than appearances, so this suited them just fine. A familiar orange thestral exited the building just as Rarity stepped onto the porch. One of the few ponies to bother buying Rarity’s more formal dresses, Night Squash caught every eye in her light blue attire with its long sleeves and billowing, layered skirt. It had been dirtied a bit by regular use in this dustbowl of a town, but just seeing her creation being worn at all brought a grin to Rarity’s lips. “Oh, Rarity.” Miss Night – she was vehemently opposed to being called ‘Miss Squash’ – gave her a little wave. “Come to make your weekly deposit, have you?” “But of course.” The two exchanged a brief hug, Rarity paying little mind to the dirt that got on her dress. “How are you, Night? Rumor has it the farm’s seen some rough times lately.” The mare’s leathery wings opened just slightly to emphasize her frustration and her scowl let her fangs peek out from under her lips. “The rumors are accurate, but I assure you it has nothing to do with my family’s work. Somepony’s been stealing from our fields.” Rarity threw a hand to her lips. “They’re what? But who would do such a thing?” Night shook her head, her pale green mane – such an unfortunate color! – swaying over her eyes. “We don’t know yet, but Banter already spoke to Cranky about it.” She leaned close and Rarity, recognizing the universal sign of an impending secret, followed suit. “The Deputy said there are signs of an Apple posse in the area.” The only appropriate response to this was to gasp. “No! The Bad Apple Gang? Here?” “Indeed, here!” Night had her inflections down to an art. “No telling what those dirty rascals are up to, but I wouldn’t put it past their lot to go stealing our produce. Banter and Sandy are going to stay out this afternoon and watch for them, just in case.” There was no acting in Rarity’s response this time. “Stay out? All day?” She cast a wary gaze beyond the Bank’s shadow to the sun-beaten town. She was already perspiring beneath her dress despite the parasol, and they wanted to stay out all day long? “Don’t they at least have an umbrella or something? The poor dears will get sunstroke for certain.” Night Squash shrugged, but the way her left fang dug into her lower lip betrayed her nonchalant response. “They’ll have to cope. Extra water and the like. We can’t very well let those hooligans rob us out of house and home.” “I suppose… Oh!” Rarity’s smile returned in full force. “Why don’t you stop by the shop on your way home? Coco and I can whip up some sort of… I don’t know, tent? Some sort of covering to protect your stallions from the sun.” For a moment, Night’s eyes lit up, but then she frowned. “I don’t know, Miss Belle. I appreciate the offer, but that fabric of yours is awfully bright.” She picked at the sleeves of her blue dress as if to demonstrate. “If the Bad Apple Gang knows they’re there, why, they might just sneak up behind them, and then I’ll be out a husband and son.” “Nonsense.” Rarity set her hands to her hips as she starting considering potential designs. Perhaps something low lying so the boys could observe without being obvious? And the colors would have to be just right to blend in. Perhaps they could cover the shelter with sand? “We’ll think of something, Darling. You go and let Miss Pommel know what’s going on, and we’ll find a design that is practical. Free of charge, of course. No—” she raised her hand to stop Night before her argument could begin “—I won’t hear of it. This is your livelihood and family on the line. That’s worth infinitely more than a few yards of fabric.” Night stared at her for a moment, mouth opened in preparation for some kind of counter. But then her expression softened and her ears folded back. “The Night Mother bless you, Rarity. You’ve been the best thing to hit this town since Cranky Doodle.” Rarity chuckled at that. “I think you exaggerate, but it is appreciated. Now, you go see Coco and I’ll meet you both later.” After indulging another hug from the beaming mare – and reminding herself to wash her dress at the earliest opportunity – Rarity bade her goodbye and entered the Bank. The interior defied the building’s outer appearance with solid wood flooring and walls, bright magilights, and a cool breeze generated by some enchantment barely perceptible to Rarity’s magical senses. Evidently the Bank was having a slower day than usual, for she was the only customer present. The two desks in the lobby were manned by the pegasus Tidewind and unicorn Crème Brûlée, both wearing official brown dresses. Made by Rarity, of course. But it was the diamond dog in the crisp grey suit who noticed her first. Standing near a water barrel with a metal cup in paw, he grinned and approached with tail wagging. “Miss Rarity! A pleasure when you visit, as always. What can humble Goldy do for pony today?” “And a pleasure to see you too, Mr. Gold. I hope everything is going well for you this week?” As she spoke, Rarity reached into her purse and pulled out a small yellow strip of paper. He accepted it, his paw grasping the receipt gently despite its size. “Goldy always have good week, Miss Rarity. Is because Miss Rarity visits. Will Miss Rarity want her usual withdrawal with Miss Rarity’s credit deposit?” Giggling, she nodded. “Of course, you flatterer, you.” “Goldy is not flatterer, only honest.” He patted her hand and offered a smile that was surprisingly warm despite the teeth. He then pulled a pair of sapphires and a milky white opal with streaks of brown out of his pocket. “Oh, goodness!” She took the opal and held it up to her eyes, studying its intricate lines. “Gemstones today instead of bits? Whatever is the occasion?” “At Equivalent Value, but yes. And Goldy need no occasion for Miss Rarity.” With a sly smile, Rarity reached up to pat his cheek. “Now, Mister Gold, I suggest you be cautious or your employees will begin spreading rumors about us.” “Bah!” Mr. Gold barked a laugh. “Ponies not talk! Ponies like job.” Tidewind spoke up from her desk. “Besides, we all know he’s married to the Bank vault. Not much gossip to share in that department.” She flashed a smarmy grin. Mr. Gold matched the expression and chuckled. “Very true, ponies know Goldy so well. Goldy apologizes for leading Miss Rarity on. Can Miss Rarity forgive Goldy?” With only the perfect amount of daintiness, Rarity pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed. “Oh, dear, I don’t know. A mare can only be led on for so far before her heart cracks under the pressure! Perhaps you have pushed me away from pursuing love for the rest of my life, and I shall become naught but a spinster crone.” “Miss Rarity, a spinster crone?” Another one of those barking laughs. “Goldy thinks not! Miss Rarity is pony gem, and someday pony stallion will see it and put Miss Rarity in pony stallion’s vault.” The single best response to this, Rarity knew, was to raise her muzzle high and set a hand to her hip. “No vault would hold me. I am not a treasure to be polished and shown off.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Crème Brûlée said with a wistful smile and a Prench accent Rarity still hadn’t concluded the validity of. She rested her chin on her steepled hands and sighed dreamily. “I for one would love to be put on a pedestal.” The idea almost brought a scowl to Rarity’s lips. Almost, but she held it back. She slipped the gems into her purse and gave Mr. Gold one last nod before turning for the door. “Then I hope you find a good stallion to raise you up. I, in the meantime, have a donation to deliver. My thanks as always, Mr. Gold, and a good day to you ladies.” “A good day, Miss Rarity,” Mr. Gold called behind her. “You always have a friend in the Boss.” Rarity stepped back out into the heat of the sun. Despite her best efforts, her lip curled at the fresh memory of Crème Brûlée’s innocent exclamation. Her steps were more pronounced, her hooves clopping loudly on the Bank’s porch before being dulled by the sands of the street. Rarity knew she shouldn’t begrudge the mare her… ‘dream’. It was hardly a respectable way to live though, was it? She’d had a dream once. It seemed so long ago, and really, who was she to say six years wasn’t ‘so long ago’? Six years in this little town, perfecting her trade with the hope of one day being able to return home with her head held high. She’d told herself she’d remained behind because she needed funding for the return trip, and then that she would need a proper financial readiness to resume business when she did. Now? Rarity could no longer delude herself. She had the means but not the will. Her sour ruminations were interrupted by a shadow over her face. She glanced up in time to see a lanky, gold-colored stallion standing in her way. Without breaking her stride, she swiftly analyzed his smug smile and determined that his placement was no coincidence. He wore dirty, faded jeans and a brown vest over a green shirt, and his two-toned orange mane was topped by a common cowboy hat. Undoubtedly, he expected her to pause; she defied him by sidestepping and walking past without so much as a sideways glance. “Oh-ho!” He was walking at her side – backwards – a moment later. “Nice reflexes, miss. Here I was, wanderin’ into town looking for a drink, and what do I see but a pretty thing like you lookin’ all puffed up. And I just had to ask myself, ‘what’s got that pretty lass so upset?’ ” Ah, a drifter. That was the last thing Rarity needed! “Perhaps I am merely annoyed that some stallion thinks he can charm me after having rolled around in the dirt, as you so clearly have.” “What? It adds to my charm.” He clearly believed that statement to be true, given his smirk. He turned to walk forward, hands in his pockets and tail flicking playfully. “Come now, won’t you give me your name at least?” “Before you’ve given me yours?” She didn’t even deign to glance at him and kept her muzzle held high. “It seems that you need lessons in how to greet a lady.” He hastened his steps and was walking backwards once more, this time just a little ahead of her. He took off his hat and half-bowed, not losing his pace as he did. “Forgive me, miss. Where are my manners? It’s Braeburn, humble drifter, eagerly at your service.” Rarity came to an abrupt pause as she studied him. Her ears lowered at the sense of unease spreading through her. “You’re an Apple.” He blinked, then grinned. “It seems my reputation precedes me.” By Luna’s Stars, but he was cocky! With a derisive sniff, she walked past him once again. “A braeburn is a type of apple.” He laughed and fell in stride with her once more. “Caught me cold.” Her teeth ground together as she wondered how long she’d have to endure this fool’s presence. The church was near, if she could just get inside… Oh, but what if he followed her? Being indoors and alone with a drifter such as him didn’t sound appealing, especially if that drifter was an Apple. He was talking again, but she heard not a word, for suddenly his name meant something more to her than just a nuisance to be forgotten by morning. This stallion was an Apple. Perhaps a member of the Bad Apple Gang? She knew she shouldn’t make that kind of judgement call so quickly, but Night Squash had mentioned something about a posse of the Gang being around. If Braeburn was one of the Bad Apples… Her nervousness, once a small voice in the back of her mind, turned into a torrent of fear. Just as she started to glance around in hopes of finding some help, a new shadow came over them both, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps. They stopped as a large lizard, its scales the color of amber, paused before them. The sand lizard was as tall as Rarity was, but its shape was lean. A trio of webbed frills ran along its neck, and three more large ones along its stiff tail. The creature looked right at Rarity and flicked a long, pink, forked tongue that tickled her nose. She smiled and scratched beneath its chin. “Why, good morning to you too, Piecazzo.” Her anxiety disappeared in an instant at the sight of the familiar Dust Devil. She leaned back to take in the gnarled, scowling face of his rider. “And a good morning to you too, Deputy.” “Miss Belle.” Cranky Doodle tipped his hat to her, though the grimace never left his face. He leveled the ever-smiling Braeburn with the same bitter expression. “This drifter causing you trouble?” “Like you wouldn’t believe.” Piecazzo, perhaps sensing the tension in her tone, peered at Braeburn and hissed. The drifter wisely stepped back, his smile losing some of its sharpness. “Hey, don’t mind me, good sir. Just hopin’ to cheer the little lady up, that’s all. No harm intended.” So he said, but Rarity couldn’t help but notice how his hand twitched for the pistol on his hip. Deputy Doodle didn’t so much as flinch, his eyes like cold steel. “Bad Apples ain’t welcome in my town, son, but we don’t go starting fights if we can help it. You do what you came here to do, then git. I don’t want to see you in Spurhoof come morning.” At that moment, Braeburn’s demeanor changed. It was a subtle shift, but Rarity caught it: the perked ears, stiffening of his back, his fingers lightly touching the grip of his pistol. His smile didn’t change, but gone was the friendliness in his eyes. “You sure you wanna treat an Apple that way, old timer?” Casually, Cranky pulled his revolver out from under his vest. He let it rest on his knee, thumb on the hammer. He said nothing, only met the young stallion’s stare with his eternal glower. Tension added to the sweltering heat of the morning. Though he had to look up to meet Cranky’s gaze, Braeburn did meet it, and with each second his smile grew less and less pronounced until, finally, he shared Cranky’s scowl. His hand didn’t move from his hip and Cranky’s revolver didn’t take aim. Even so, the tautness of their muscles betrayed the intensity of the moment almost as easily as their eyes did. Rarity didn’t dare move, not wanting to provoke either of them. Out the corner of her eye, she noted the townsfolk slipping to a presumably safe distance, although more than a few were pulling out guns of their own. If Braeburn decided to start something, he’d soon find himself outnumbered. The only exceptions were three earth ponies that stood near the saloon, none of them familiar. The trio watched the events unfold with an eagerness she found disturbing. More of Braeburn’s ilk? Then, just as quickly as the confrontation had begun, it passed; Braeburn raised his hands and backed away, that easygoing smile slipping back onto his face. “Hey, take it easy, Deputy. I didn’t mean no harm. We’ll get our supplies and then be out of your mane.” He turned to Rarity and tipped his hat to her. “I hope we meet again, miss.” He kept his eyes on her as he went to join the other three. There was something distinctly unpleasant in his gaze. Only when he fully turned away did Rarity release the breath she’d been holding. Reaching up to pet Piecazzo's scaled neck, she looked to Cranky. “Thank you for that. Really.” Cranky put his revolver away, but his sharp eyes didn’t leave the four ponies as they made their way through town. He sniffed and spat on the ground before asking, “You don’t keep a gun, do you?” Already put off by the wad of saliva, Rarity pulled her hand away as if stung. “Of course not! I have no intention of touching one of those things.” Now he looked at her, and though his unpleasant expression was unchanged from what it had been a second ago it suddenly felt a lot more judging. Rarity fidgeted under his piercing eyes, absently adjusting the strap of her purse to keep from looking directly at him. “You should get one,” Cranky growled. “A lady like you needs a way to defend herself.” Determined not to be intimidated any further, she forced a smile to her lips and hoped it was pleasant. “That’s what I have you for, correct? I have faith in you.” “‘Cept I can’t be everywhere at once,” he countered, turning to look down the street. The gang of new ponies had disappeared save for the white stallion, who lazed by the entrance to the store. “Those ponies are up to something, and I don’t like the way that kid was looking at you.” “Believe me, neither do I.” She shivered at the memory. Perhaps she should take a bath early today, assuming she was willing to work up a sweat at the well to get the water. If there was anything her home was not well positioned for, it was water access. “Even so, I don’t intend to let a mere look disturb me.” Cranky cast one last glance her way, snorted, and gave Piecazzo a light kick. “Keep your eyes open tonight, Miss Belle.” She watched him go, her lips pursed tight to avoid speaking her mind. Really, a gun? For her? She wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, it wasn’t as if she would have to resort to such measures in her life. She’d be more likely to shoot herself on accident. Still, it would certainly be wise to lock her door tonight before bed. She made a mental note as she turned and marched for the church. Cleric Cloud Walker stood waiting for her, dressed in the traditional midnight blue and purple robes. Her grey feathers rustled as Rarity drew near, and she reached out to her. “Miss Belle. That ruffian didn’t hurt thee, did he?” Bringing her smile back now that the ordeal was over, Rarity entwined her fingers briefly with the cleric, the two keeping their hands flat; the church’s symbol for an enshrouding night. They then slowly pulled their hands apart, representing the emergence of sunlight. The traditional greeting passed within only a couple seconds. Then Rarity was digging in her purse. “Oh, no, Deputy Doodle had impeccable timing. Everything’s fine.” Cleric Walker heaved a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Luna be praised. We can’t imagine what a bunch of drifters would be doing in a little town like this, but we pray they pass soon.” Her eyes lit up at the sight of the gems Rarity produced. “Oh, my. Gems instead of bits? Goldy must be in a good mood today.” “He certainly seemed to be.” She offered the gemstones with a smile. “Who knows? Perhaps you can have the opal Accurately Valued and make the church a small mint.” “Oh, we doubt that very much.” Cleric Walker took the gems carefully, as if she feared they would break on contact. “Miss Rarity, the Church of Mother Night is grateful, as always; thou are truly the only pony to make consistent donations every week like this. For years! But really, thou knows we wouldn’t take offense if thou skipped a week and used the bits to buy something for yourself now and then.” Rarity scoffed and shook her head. “It is a matter of pride! And duty, of course. I wouldn’t dream of missing a donation.” With a sigh, Cleric Walker tucked the gems into a pocket of her robe. When next she spoke, she dropped the religious tone. “Rarity, sweetie. Your donations make up roughly seventy percent of all the donations in Spurhoof. It must be quite the drain, so unless you’re trying to pay for some terrible sin of the past – doubtful – I think Princess Luna wouldn’t mind.” With a quiet ‘hmm’, Rarity took to studying Cloud Walker with her fingers splayed lightly over her lips. The cleric shifted under her gaze, abruptly looking wary. “Tell you what, you feel so guilty taking all my bits?” Rarity reached out to pinch the cleric’s robes and tug on them lightly, revealing a small hole. “You can come by my shop and use some of those donations to buy yourself some new vestments. These things are in desperate need of replacement.” “Oh, we see!” Cloud Walker flicked Rarity’s fingers away and smirked. “Looking to drum up business via donations, hmm? How sinful.” “Well, a lady must drum up business somehow,” Rarity countered wryly. “So of course I poured thousands of bits into the church over the years just to have you purchase a two-hundred-bit robe. If that’s not a sound business practice, I don’t know what is.” “Two hundred bits!” Cloud Walker slapped a hand over her heart. “For a new robe the church would send me for fifty?” “But of course! Custom works require extra effort. Besides…” Rarity paused to study the cleric once more, an old idea coming to life in her mind. Her tail flicked and she felt her lips stretch into an eager smile. “Yes. Yes! It’ll be worth it if I can get some sapphires to accent the embroidery.” Cloud Walker paused, her wings twitching. She rubbed a hand over her chest, as if feeling the new design she couldn’t yet see. “Sapphires, you say? Embroidered?” Rarity was rubbing her hands, her smile having become an all-out grin. “Yes… I can just see you up on the podium, the night torches making the gems glisten. Oh, it will be marvelous!” The cleric’s face drifted from wonder to uncertainty, then to eagerness, then doubt. It looked as though she were having a mental war with herself. “We, um, might be interested in seeing a design. The Princess, may her Moon shine upon us all, wouldn’t begrudge us for spending in her name.” “Of course not, Darling. Oh, but what am I doing? I need to get some shopping done and return to the shop. I promised Miss Night to help her with a little project and it wouldn’t do to lump all that work on Coco.” Rarity waved as she turned back to the street. “Ta-ta! I’ll see you later, Cleric Walker.” “What? Oh, yes of course.” Rarity sat back in her chair in her second floor lounge, a glass of water in hand. Coco sat opposite her, hands clasped between her knees. She was doing her best to appear at ease, but the slight twitch of her left ear gave away her anxiety. “This,” Rarity declared with glass raised, “was a good day.” She took a long drink, enjoying the cool liquid on her throat. Coco gained a hopeful smile. “Y-yes, ma’am.” “We helped the Squash Family out, got a couple good orders done, and that commission from Miss Walker is going to be an exquisite design. The robes aren’t due until the thirty-ninth, which gives us two weeks. More than enough time.” Rarity set her glass down and leaned towards her assistant. “And you did a marvelous job watching the shop this morning, Darling.” The praise transformed Coco’s little smile into a beaming grin. “I did?” Her happiness was contagious. Rarity sat back once more with a relaxed sigh, letting her body slump in the comfortable seat. “But of course. I knew you were ready. Why, I may let you take over for me completely at nights, rather than stick around the shop floor double-checking everything you do.” “I would love that!” But then Coco’s ears dropped back and her grin disappeared. “N-not that I don’t like having you checking my work, Miss Belle! It’s always a joy to—” “Tut-tut.” Rarity waved weakly at her. “I know what you meant. Honestly, Coco, you shouldn’t let yourself be so high-strung all the time. Stress isn’t good for the complexion. And how often do I have to ask for you to call me ‘Rarity’?” Flushing, Coco’s gaze fell back to her clasped hands. “It wouldn’t be proper. Miss.” Another sigh, this time of mild frustration. That mare was talented and developing at a nice pace, but she really needed to grow some backbone. She let the matter slide; why work against a night that had been so good so far? She glanced at the clock above her window. “Are you not going to church this evening?” “No, not tonight.” Coco at last leaned back in her seat, though it took a moment for the stiffness in her shoulders to fade. “After Cleric Walker spent so much time here today, I think I’ve had enough talk of the Royal Sisters.” That provoked a cringe from Rarity. “Yes, it does get tiring after a time, does it not? At least she’s off that kick of ‘signs in the stars’. I wonder if she really thought Princess Luna would return from her self-imposed exile?” “Who can say?” Coco reached for the pitcher of water on the table between them and poured herself a small glass. “I can’t blame her for getting excited about the Church’s interpretations though. Can you imagine if the princesses did return to Equestria?” Rarity pondered the idea while Coco drank. What would Equestria be like if Princess Luna returned? Of course, the Church specified that she would not do so until Celestia returned as well. To have both princesses back and in charge? If Celestia really could push the sun away and make the world cooler, she would certainly welcome it. She might have adapted to this harsher middle-Equestrian climate, but a mare from Mooisville never really gets used to the heat. At last, she conjured up a response. “I like to think that the princesses would make their return a big deal, and with that in mind, I think we’d know about it through more than just shifting stars.” Coco set her half-emptied glass back down and shrugged. “Well, the point is that I’ve had enough preaching for one night. Cleric Walker is a good mare, no question, but sometimes I think she lays it on too thick.” The chiming of the bell over the front door hit their ears. The mares shared uncertain looks and stood in unison. “I wonder who would come calling so late?” Coco said as they moved for the stairs. “It could be anypony.” Rarity allowed Coco to move ahead of her. “I knew we should have locked the door. No matter, we shall just remind them of our open hours.” Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, Coco stood in the doorway and called out. “Excuse me, sir? Can we help you?” “I think you can, yes.” Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. She hurried down the stairs, reaching out to grab Coco’s shoulder, but she was too late; a pair of hands caught the mare and jerked her away. Coco yelped. “W-what are you doing?” Rarity paused in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of Braeburn in her showroom lobby. He had an arm wrapped about Coco’s shoulder and a smug smile on his lips. Behind him stood one of his companions, a tall, brown-coated stallion sporting jeans, a broken suspender and a massive brown beard. To her credit, Coco didn’t appear afraid, although that may have been because she was too confused to react so. She stared at the slightly taller Braeburn with wide eyes, gently trying to pull away but unable to escape. “Ah, I knew I had the right place.” Braeburn grinned and doffed his hat, giving Rarity a half-bow as he did. “I wanted to take this opportunity to say ‘goodbye,’ miss. And what a pleasure to meet your lovely young friend! A sister, perhaps?” Her hackles rose as Rarity leveled him with a glare. “Unhand my assistant at once, you ruffian!” “Aww, but we’re just getting to know one another, isn’t that right, Sweetness?” Braeburn used his free hand to tickle Coco’s chin. She redoubled her efforts to get away, pushing at his chest and trying to keep her face from his hand. Rarity inhaled through clenched teeth, forcing herself to calm down. The situation seemed bad, but perhaps this drifter could be reasoned with. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder where Cranky Doodle was. She’d anticipated him or somepony he knew keeping an eye on the shop tonight. It was the kind of thing he’d do. Now calmed enough to not resort to tongue-lashing, Rarity set her hands on her hips and stood to her full height. “Alright, Mr. Apple, you have my attention. Now what is it you want?” His smarmy grin came back in full force even as he tugged Coco a little closer. “Just to enjoy the company of a couple lovely ladies for the evening. I promise, I’ll be the perfect gentlecolt.” Coco paused in her efforts to give him a frail smile. “W-well, in that case, you can let me go and we can talk. That’s what a gentlecolt would do.” He patted her cheek lightly. “Nice try, Sweetness, but it can be hard to catch a dove once she’s been released, and I like you right where you are.” He accented the claim by squeezing her waist against his. There was a hungry look in his eye that sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine. This was no drifter. If Braeburn wasn’t part of the Bad Apple Gang, Rarity would sell her shop. But if there was anything she knew, it was that outlaws had a few exploitable vices. Keeping her tone firm, she declared, “I will give you everything in the shop safe if you let her go and leave us alone.” The stallions’ ears perked. They shared a long, silent expression, wicked grins on their lips. After a moment’s consideration, Braeburn pushed Coco away. She didn’t get a chance to flee though, as his friend caught her by the waist before she could take another step. “Now you have my attention.” Braeburn turned to Rarity, once again possessing that infuriatingly smug smile. “I think we have a deal. Bits and gems first, then we let the girl go and leave you both in peace.” A slow breath left Rarity. This was going to be easier than she thought. True, the loss to her business would be terrible, not to mention her goals of possibly returning to Mooisville, but what was that compared to the dignity – and perhaps lives – of Coco and herself? “Of course. This way.” Coco raised a hand towards her. “M-Miss Belle, no. You need that money!” “Hush now, Coco,” she replied, turning to walk behind the shop counter. “Let me handle this.” “B-but I…” A brief glance from Rarity stopped her. Coco chewed her lip, but said no more. Her tastelessly clothed captor grinned and petted her mane, making her shiver. Braeburn followed close behind Rarity. She considered demanding he keep his distance, but guessed it would serve no purpose other than to goad him. She knelt down to a small iron safe nestled just beneath the cash register and began turning the dial. “When Deputy Doodle finds out what’s happened here, he’ll be in a shooting mood. I suggest you leave promptly.” “I wouldn’t worry about the old timer,” Braeburn said as he hovered over her shoulder. “My other two friends are leading him on a merry little chase as we speak. A distraction to make sure our night is undisturbed.” What had he been planning to do to them? Perhaps he intended to… No, Rarity refused to consider that. She would give him the money and be done with him. With this thought in mind and ignoring the sickening feeling in her gut, she turned the knob to the last number in the combination and felt the lock click open. With lips pursed, she opened the safe, revealing a large bag. So many bits, accumulated over so many years… It wasn’t everything. Most of her money was in the Bank, as was proper. But still, this collection was supposed to protect her in case something happened to the Bank itself, and it would certainly put her behind. A whimper from Coco dispelled all doubts, and she reached in with both hands to pull the bag out. Standing, grunting with the weight of the bits and gems, she deposited the bag on the counter and stepped back. “There. Take it and go.” Braeburn idly kicked the safe closed before opening the bag and peering inside. His lips curled back into that wretched smile. “Piles, old pal? We just hit paydirt.” “Good to know, Boss.” Piles chuckled even as he held Coco a little more tightly. “And here I thought this night was all about the tail.” “Me too.” Braeburn rubbed his chin, glancing at Rarity as he did. His smile turned dark. “Still is.” Rarity blinked, her heart sinking as his words echoed in her ears. “What?” He closed the bag, tying its drawstring tight. “This is a nice donation you’ve made to the Bad Apples, but we still need our… ‘relaxation.’ ” He turned to her and spread his arms wide. “Come on, show us that generosity I’ve heard so much about.” She could only stand there, hands clenched into fists and body trembling. “Y-you… You said you would leave us alone. Just take the money and go.” “Hmm…” He crossed his arms, seeming to consider it for a moment. Then he smirked. “Nah.” Piles gained a toothy grin. “I can play with her now, right?” Coco tried to jerk away, put the brute wrapped a hand around her throat and jerked her right back. She yelped and squirmed, but he seemed to have no trouble holding her. She looked to Rarity with wide, glistening eyes. “M-Miss Belle?” Rarity felt a jagged knife of ice lodge inside her chest. Snarling, she focused her anger upon Piles, her horn shining bright. “You release her this instant, or so help me I’ll—” Braeburn’s gun flew from its holster, the butt of it impacting the side of her head before she had time to react. Stars erupted in her vision. She shouted and fell back, clutching the injury with both hands and staring down the barrel of his pistol. All the amusement had left Braeburn’s eyes. He spoke with a force that shoved down whatever bravery she’d been holding onto. “I see that horn glow again and I’ll blow it off your pretty little head.” She backed away, heart pounding and mind racing. She glanced over the counter to see Piles groping Coco’s thigh as tears streamed down the young mare’s face. Her attention shifted back to Braeburn, who approached at a leisurely pace with the gun still aimed at her. “P-please. Just leave us be.” “You talk too much.” Braeburn stepped forward so that the barrel of his pistol pressed against the underside of Rarity’s jaw. His smile returned as his eyes drifted up and down her body. “Now, come here and show me that cutie mark.” Her breathing came in small gasps, but she stepped a little closer. Her dignity and sense of self-preservation screamed at her to fight back, to resist! But what chance did she have? His gun was already aimed, and she couldn’t help Coco if her head was a bloody smear. Her tail tucked between her legs even as he reached out to give her breast a squeeze. Braeburn’s salacious grin widened. “Nice. Too bad Cayenne’s not here. This would turn her on somethin’ fierce.” The gun lowered. His eyes locked on Rarity’s chest as his free hand fumbled with the top button of her dress. Rarity’s cheeks burned. To let this indecent ruffian touch her like this… She glanced towards Coco and saw, to her horror, that the mare’s blouse was open, her chest being fondled as Piles drew in a deep breath of her mane. Poor Coco had her eyes tightly closed, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides as she whispered something unheard from across the shop. With a soft curse, Braeburn gave up on Rarity’s dress and returned to fondling her, his gun now lowered to his side. “Hey, whorse. Do the honors.” Taking her gaze off the cruelty of Coco’s situation, Rarity focused her glare on Braeburn once more. His smug smile, his confident, laid back pose… What she wouldn’t do to give his little bits the treatment they deserved! But she sucked up her anger and pride. Coco still needed saving, and there remained one tactic she’d yet to attempt. As much as the effort sickened her, Rarity forced her lips into a saucy smile of her own. “How about you let her go? You can both take me on, if you think you’re stud enough.” Braeburn’s eyebrows rose. His smile widened as he pointed his gun languidly at her. “Oh. Oh-ho-ho. So you wanna play the game that way, do you?” Maintaining her smile, she reached up and began slowly unbuttoning her dress, but stopped after the second button. Leaning forward, she gave him a nice view of her cleavage. “Get rid of the foal. You’ve got me. I can make it good for the both of you. Or—” she tugged her shirt closed and turned sideways from him, her muzzle high but her smile in place “—you keep her around and I play the cold mannequin.” The fiend studied her haughty look for a moment, as if thinking it over. He never lost that amused expression. Finally, he turned to Piles, who was busy trying to get an unsupportive Coco out of her bra. “You hear that, Piles? She thinks she can play us. Doesn’t know we’ve been around a ponut or two.” He waved his gun at his pal and Coco invitingly. “Let’s take these two upstairs. We’ll double up on the little filly first, just so the lady can watch.” The ice rushed back to Rarity’s veins in an instant. That had been her last resort! And now Piles was lifting Coco up by the waist and carrying her to the stairs. She squirmed in his grip, muttering quiet cries of “No!” and “Please don’t!” Braeburn holstered his pistol and followed, but not before glancing over his shoulder to give Rarity a smirk. “No.” Rarity took a step closer. “No, please. Leave her alone!” She tried to grab Braeburn’s shirt, but he shoved her back with little effort and marched behind his partner. “Please, I’ll do anything! Let her go!” “Oh.” He paused to turn back to her. “And fair warning, if you’re not up there within, say, a minute, we’ll finish quick and put a bullet in her skull.” He looked upon her with eyes like steel and lips set in a hard line. The message was clear: any attempt to escape and warn others would get Coco killed. The warm smile returned. He went for the stairs. “Do hurry along now, mannequin.” “But… I… you can’t…” Rarity’s tongue twisted and turned in her mouth, unable to form more than two words at a time. What was she going to do? What was she going to do? These monsters were going to turn Coco into a toy if she didn’t think of something quick! She couldn’t get help, couldn’t hope to fight them. Her money didn’t work, her body didn’t work! “No no no. You… Coco…” “Rarity?” Coco got to cast one last, wide-eyed, tearful look at her from over Piles’ shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. Only then did she manage to find her voice. “Let me go! No, stop. Rarity!” The name jolted through Rarity’s heart. She reacted without thinking, her horn shining. She had no idea what she would do with it, though… until her eyes fell upon Braeburn’s holstered gun. The weapon glowed blue and jerked from his hip just before he could stop it, and it flew into Rarity’s waiting hands. Only once she had it in a firm grip did she realize she had no idea what to do with it other than point and hope for the best. Braeburn glanced at his empty holster, then turned to Rarity. His smile came back in an instant and he huffed a laugh. “And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?” Spurred on by his manner, Rarity spread her hooves and kept her arms stiff, giving him her best glare. “Get out of my shop. I’ll shoot!” “Will you? Go ahead.” He raised his arms wide and leaned forward. When Rarity hesitated, he waved both hands in the air. “Go ahead!” Could she? Rarity had never killed a pony before. She’d never even hurt a pony before! She’d always hated guns. But if she didn’t, Coco would be… and then she’d be next. But to actually fire at another pony… Apparently sensing her doubt, Braeburn dropped his arms with an exasperated sigh. He approached, reaching for the weapon. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” She tried to pull the trigger, but it proved every bit as hard as she’d imagined. She just couldn’t get over the idea of being a murderer. Coco needed this. The law was on her side! Cranky would understand, he’d… Braeburn grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it down. His other hand reached for Rarity, grabbing her by the loose flap of her shirt and jerking her forward with enough force to pop a few buttons loose. His eyes held a bored quality as his face came close to hers. “Y’know, it’s ponies like you that make it so easy for ponies like me.” Rarity’s heart sank. She’d failed. In a few moments, she and Coco would be… She closed her eyes as his arms slipped around her waist. She still gripped the pistol, even as he pushed it to the side. His hands groped her buttocks, making her gasp and— The shot rattled her eardrums and made her jump. The sound acted as a mental sandstorm, washing away all thoughts and concerns as one glaring concept took up the whole of her mind: she’d just shot him. One minute he’d been… and the next… She didn’t even remember pulling the trigger. Braeburn took a step back. Wide eyed, he looked down to touch at a spot just below his ribs. Blood already stained his shirt. He felt a little higher up, hands twitching sporadically. Rarity’s eyes followed their movement, and then they met one another’s gazes. And Braeburn smiled. The fact combined with the horror of the moment to keep Rarity from recovering her senses. “Hey,” he said with only the lightest strain in his voice. “That was a good shot. Really. Top notch.” He then collapsed against the wall, turning as he fell to land in a sitting position. A shuddering breath rattled his body. His hand lightly felt at the wound as if in idle curiosity. Rarity watched this, then looked at the gun still clutched in her hand. She dropped it as if it were a viper, letting it clunk against the floor. “I… I didn’t…” His chuckled broke through her brain. He stared straight ahead and muttered, “Y’know, I always thought it’d be Jackie who’d get me.” She dropped to her knees and reached for the wound, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the blood-soaked shirt. Her hands trembled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just… It just went off. You… Y-you stay still and I’ll… I’ll fix it! That’s right, I’ll fix it.” She grabbed his shirt, intent on pulling it open to see the wound, but he caught her wrists. “Hey.” He raised her hands up, still possessing that mystifyingly pleasant smile. “You don’t even know what you hit, do you?” He looked her in the eyes. “Ain’t no fixing this, lady.” “Don’t say that! I, I… Ohhh.” He let go, and she pressed her closed hands to her lips. Her eyes began to burn as comprehension sank in. She was a killer. A killer! She’d killed him. The world spun as the red spread more and more. Something threatened to rise up from her stomach, making her double over. “Boss? Boss!” Rarity fought her nausea enough to look up. There stood Piles and Coco, staring at the scene with jaws dropped. The horror in Coco’s eyes sent Rarity’s guts on another spin and she leaned heavily against the shop counter. “Hey. Piles.” Braeburn spoke casually to his companion. “Look. Little mare had some bite in her after all.” He waved at the front of the shop. “You should get. Somepony will have heard the shot. No point both of us eating dirt.” Piles went pale. He looked to Braeburn, then to Rarity. He grabbed his gun— “Don’t.” Braeburn threw his hand up again. “Don’t bother. Just go, Piles. Spread the word. Let the Gang know the Apples have a new bounty.” Sputtering and shaking, Piles stood dumbfounded with gun in hand but arm hanging limp at his side. He didn’t even react as Coco hurried away from him to kneel by Rarity and rub her back. “Rarity? Are you okay?” She couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head and fight to keep her dinner down. “Go, Piles. Tell Cayenne it’s her posse now.” That seemed to be enough, because the stallion finally holstered his gun and left the shop at full sprint, his departure emphasized by the gentle chiming of the doorbell. “It’s okay, Rarity. It’s gonna be okay,” Coco whispered, her attention divided between her boss and the drifter bleeding his life away. Rarity had her elbows on the counter and her head hanging low. She took gradual, extended gasps of breath and paid no attention to the tears running down her cheeks. Things remained like that for some time, with Coco occasionally muttering gentle assurances to her. Until Braeburn spoke up, his voice rasping and weak. “Hey. Lady.” It took a moment, but Rarity at last turned her head to look at him from beneath her arm. For Luna’s sake, he was still smiling! “Your name’s Rarity Belle, right?” She gave the weakest of nods. “Yeah. Rarity.” He let his head fall back against the wall. “Stallion should know the name of the pony that did him in. Still can’t believe it wasn’t Jackie.” He coughed, one hand clutching his wound. “I hope you’ve got more shots like those in you. It’d be a real joke if the mare who did me got taken out by the first challenger.” Coco, still hunched over Rarity, glanced his way. “What are you talking about?” His eyes drifted to them, but soon returned to staring straight ahead. “Apples look after one another. Bad or not. She did me in. Others will be coming to return the favor.” Rarity’s alarm was enough to let her muscle past her queasiness and really focus on him. “W-what? You mean more of you will come?” He chuckled, a weak, scratchy sound. “Oh yeah. My posse. A few of the smaller gangs. The longer you survive, the badder they’ll get.” He pointed at her without looking. “You survive, lady. Braeburn didn’t get offed by some pansy with a little luck. My cousins’ll never l-let me forget it.” “But I didn’t mean to… to ‘off’ you!” She crawled towards him, focusing her attention on his blood-soaked shirt. “Th-there’s still time. I can do something about this, I know I can.” He tried to push her hands away, but they lost their strength quickly. He grimaced as she began opening his shirt. “Would you… Would you stop… already? It’s a… a liver. You can’t… c-can’t just put some g-gauze on it.” The shirt came free and she got her first good look at the wound. She wobbled in place at the sight, groping for some sort of support as the blood poured out of a neat hole just beneath the ribs. Coco caught her arm in a tight grip, steadying her. “Bleeding,” Rarity muttered. “Have to stop the b-bleeding.” Braeburn moaned, catching her attention. His eyelids hung heavily as he watched her. The smile fought against his visible pain. “You’re real… real pretty, y’know that?” “Towels.” Rarity looked up to Coco’s face. She seemed so pallid. “Coco. T-towels. Get some towels.” Coco swallowed audibly, unable to look away from Braeburn’s wound. “Rarity, I d-don’t think he’s—” “Towels!” The shout sent the young mare running for the stairs. Rarity sucked down a sharp breath and pressed her hands to the wound, whimpering as blood rapidly coated her pearly fingers. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry! We’ll get you help, w-we’ll stop the bleeding.” “Real pretty,” Braeburn muttered sleepily. “Moment I… saw ya. Thought it was… was my lucky day. Prettiest mare… this side of…” Rarity thought she might bite her lip off. She kept pressing her hands to the wound. Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop? Where was Coco? Why had she pulled the trigger? Braeburn was a criminal, but he deserved to be locked up, not… not dead! “Come on, Coco,” she whispered, trying to use her shoulders to wipe her eyes. “C-come on, bring the towels.” It seemed like an eternity passed. Rarity kept seeing the moment in her head again and again. When had she pulled the trigger? It must have been when he grabbed her. She’d jumped. Why had she jumped? If she’d just had a little more control… “Rarity?” Shaking the dark thoughts away, she looked up to see Coco standing at the doorway to the stairs, a pile of towels in her arms. She breathed a sigh of relief; finally, something she could work with! “That’s good, dear. Bring them over and help me.” Coco didn’t move. She just stared with a deep frown, sadness shining in her eyes. Rarity tensed. What was she doing? “Coco. Darling. Now. I need to stop the bleeding.” Rather than approach, Coco squeezed the towels close to her chest. Tears began to run down her still-moist cheeks. “Rarity, h-he…” “Damn it, Coco! Help me before he dies!” Her assistant flinched and only held the towels more tightly, a sob breaking out of her throat. With a snarl, Rarity ignited her horn and snatched the towels with such force that Coco jerked forward and fell to her knees. The silly mare, now was not the time for panic! “Alright, Mr. Apple, don’t you worry. We’ll have you right as sunlight in no… time…” Rarity stared up at Braeburn’s face and felt her breath stolen away. He sat perfectly still, eyes forward and vacant, arms limp. Staring seemed the only thing Rarity could do, her eyes searching for any sign of movement. “Mr. Apple?” She reached a trembling hand forward, pressing her palm to his chest. Her breath became as still as death as she waited. A second passed. Another. Braeburn was still. “No.” She leaned forward, feeling at his body and hyperventilating. “No. No no no. No. You can’t. You can’t! Please, I—” A sob choked her words back as the firm reality of her situation struck. Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it, to think it. She collapsed backwards, body shaking in spasms as she sobbed and covered her face with bloody hands. “I d-didn’t mean it. I didn’t m-mean to!” But she had. She was a murderer, and there was nothing to be done to fix that. She could only curl into a ball and weep.