>A vote for Killjoy is a vote against awful two-party systems.
I've tried to be patient. I've tried to be reasonable. Despite everything that Dragonfall has thrown at me in the past several days, I've kept my cool, held my head high, and taken each problem with as close to a sunny disposition as my blackened, gore-drenched soul could possibly muster.
Yet all that my patience, perseverance, and hard work have amounted to is democratic gridlock. All I've earned is the naked contempt of a pack of degenerates, blowhards, and a lone poseur with autocratic pretentions. After all my legwork this week, the Sunhearts are rightfully mine; they should offer me the captaincy on a silver platter. Yet they've picked Hoofler, that mustachioed fop, and forced me to grovel for their votes. It's a laughable, intolerable situation.
Damn, maybe Boring Pony was right. Maybe I am a miserable, self-pitying...
...Wait, Boring Pony was right?
Time slows to a crawl. Somehow, the mere thought that Boring Pony could have been right about anything has thrown a switch in my mind. If he was right about that, then... well, he said all kinds of things about me. What else could he have been right about? If, indeed, I am as miserable and self-pitying as he proclaimed, then could I also be... how did he put it? The "most self-centred, callous, egotistical, cruel, hateful, and all-around horrible pony" that he knew?
I look again at my degenerate, blowhard, poseur comrades, and come to a stark realisation. This is not an opinion unique to Boring Pony. Despite my best efforts, I must seem to them as bad as Ulysses... or somehow worse, if they'd sooner have Hoofler in charge than me. That in mind, I consider my first question from a different angle. It's not a matter of what I did to deserve this. It's more one of what I could have done to make Hoofler seem a viable alternative. Off the top of my head, I can't think of anything, but the fact remains. Somehow, I've found a way to make him appear preferable to me. Somehow, I have made myself unelectable to my comrades.
A nudge from Killjoy draws my attention back to the other officers. Nervous, confused looks flicker from one face to the other. Killjoy herself just looks concerned. My little epiphany must be showing externally.
I set my jaw and sit up straight. This isn't the time to look weak. I can worry about rehabilitating my image later. For now, I have to salvage this situation. Conceding to Hoofler isn't an option if I want to maintain my voice in the Sunhearts. Hoofler is shrewd enough to consolidate power as soon as he gets it, which means that we can all kiss the democratic process goodbye. While democracy might be as useful as a limp dick, having a limited voice in how things are run is better than having no voice at all, and it's the only reason I'm even in a position to leverage any kind of stratagem right now.
I could maintain the stalemate. Hoofler leads from the front and has the scars (and genital damage) to show it. It's only a matter of time before he suffers some kind of fatal battlefield wound. Or, if I don't feel like waiting that long, Crackshot could always remove him, as he removed Blackheart. Or even one of the other lieutenants, someone voting for him – would anybody really miss Ulysses? With the deadlock broken...
...Then again, assassination really shouldn't be my first recourse in situations like this. Or my second, or my third. Blackheart's death wasn't strictly necessary; all it did was open up a can of worms that I'm still trying to seal again. Plus, I'm not sure I like the precedent it sets if each captain can simply elevate himself by killing the pony in front of him.
Unhappily, I conclude that there's no way for me to come out of this with the captaincy. But I can still salvage the situation. There are six other lieutenants in this company besides he and I, and while most of them are just as repugnant to the rest as I am, I can think of one who would be... well, not quite good, but better than the alternatives. It's like knowing that you'll have to vomit later, and selecting your meal based around what's easiest to bring back up.
I swallow my pride, and comfort myself with the knowledge that, if nothing else, I'm still cockblocking Hoofler.
"Okay, I fold." I thump my hooves, loudly, on the table, making everyone jump. "The way things are now, we're not leaving this room with a captain. Under the circumstances, I see no other option but to withdraw."
A slimy smirk oozes its way across Ulysses's face. Hoofler, however, fluffs himself up. The fat caterpillar on his upper lip twitches gleefully.
"Ach, mein ballbruder, vat a wunderbar turn of events! I knew you vould come around. Ja, I graciously accept ze position of captain. As mein first act, I'd like to officially change ze title to Obergruppenfuhrer. As mein second, I promote mein good left hoof, Sergeant Ernst Roan, to fill mein position as—"
"Let me finish, Hoofler," I sigh, rolling my eyes. "All I said was that I was withdrawing my vote for myself. I didn't say I was casting it for you."
Hoofler's mustache stops twitching. "I do not understand. You're not voting for me?"
"No, Hoofler. Because you're an awful, awful pony. We are all awful, awful ponies, except for Bonepick, who is an awful, awful griffon. Not a one of us is fit for command. There are no palatable choices here – just different flavours of unpalatable."
"Nopony here disagrees," says Peacemaker, pointedly. "But the company needs a leader, Agony, and if you're withdrawing yourself from consideration, then we're counting your vote as an abstention, and that means Hoofler will be captain."
"I'm not abstaining." I privately relish the moment before I take the plunge; it's not quite a literal first blood situation, but I'm getting a similar rush from it. "I nominate Killjoy."
The looks of sheer gobsmackery that come over the other lieutenants in the moment of silence that follows brings me as close to an orgasm as I've come since moving to Dragonfall. Hoofler's face splotches out into different patches of purple. Peacemaker watches him nervously. Ulysses slams his head on the table and groans. Dynamite blinks rapidly, tilts his head ninety degrees, and stares into space as if his brain just broke. Candy and Bonepick exchange looks of unease.
Killjoy, bone-white in the face, is the first to speak, her voice rising with panic. "No you don't."
I wink at her. In response, she gets a look that distinctly resembles shellshock.
"Killjoy?" Ulysses spits, lifting his head to glare at me. "You nominate Killjoy? That's your ace in the hole?"
I look coolly at him. "You object?"
"Of course I object, shit-for-brains! She's a... well, she's..."
"She's a what?" I raise an eyebrow at the lickspittle across from me. "No, seriously. What's your grudge against her, Ulysses? Do you have one? Does anyone here actually have a legitimate problem with the idea of her leading us?"
Dynamite's attention seems to snap back to reality. Hoofler remains purple, and Candy and Bonepick look no less anxious. But Peacemaker looks thoughtful.
"She's an alcoholic," he points out.
"Recovering alcoholic," I correct. "She's ten months sober."
"Weeks," Killjoy says, airily.
I cough, absentmindedly patting her shoulder. "And even if she wasn't, we're still talking about the Sunheart Company here. We employ thieves, rapists, murderers, even an insurance salespony or two, and most of us don't bat an eyelash at it. Hell, two of our highest-ranking personnel are a foal-fiddler and a cannibal. Why would we draw the line at an alcoholic leading us? By your own standards, isn't that better than having somepony like me or Hoofler in command?"
Peacemaker chews his lip and nods his assent, shrugging. "I suppose an alcoholic is preferable to an out-and-out bigot... No offence, Hoofler."
Hoofler blinks at him. "Vhy vould I be offended? I do hate minorities."
He turns his head and spits. I think he was aiming for Bonepick, but it instead lands near Dynamite, who recoils theatrically. The serving mare quickly runs over with a rag to wipe it up, while Peacemaker continues.
"More to the point, Agony might actually have stumbled across a good idea here. Killjoy's got good chops as a field officer. She's popular with the troops, too – that's a rarity in this company."
"She voted against deploying to Dragonfall," Dynamite sighs, while the serving mare mops up Hoofler's saliva next to him. "That's certainly a mark in her favor."
"And she gives fantastic head," Ulysses adds begrudgingly.
"You've never even come close to finding that out, Throatfuck!" Killjoy's voice cuts like a dagger, but she quickly softens. "I mean, I do, but—"
"Yes, yes, Killjoy's throat is eminently fuckable." I shoot Ulysses a glare. "The point is, dents and quirks aside, she's still a better option than anyone else here. She's capable, she's popular, she's not a registered sex offender, she doesn't want to conduct any ethnic cleansings, and she's never eaten a pony, at least not in a literal sense. And most importantly, she does not want to be here any more than the rest of us do."
Talking up those qualities as if they're virtues, as opposed to baseline qualities for being an even halfway decent person, makes me want to drink bleach. A visible wince ripples through the other lieutenants as they come to the same realisation.
Still, I persevere, grinning. "Surely, that's enough upsides to counterbalance a measly little alcohol addiction, isn't it?"
I glance between the other lieutenants, daring them to challenge me. Luckily, Peacemaker nods his assent.
"I'm sold. I vote for Killjoy."
Dynamite nods his own agreement with far more enthusiasm than is warranted. He and Peacemaker both look to Ulysses, who reluctantly nods as well. Candy and Bonepick exchange uneasy looks while Hoofler noisily grinds his teeth.
I try not to let my relief over my gambit's success show. "That's four. We just need one more vote for a simple majority. How about it, Killjoy?"
"How about you eat every solitary centimeter of my ass?" Killjoy snaps, flushing. "Dammit, where do you get off—"
"Presumably on you, if he's doing that," Dynamite chirps. "Speaking from experience here."
Killjoy throws her mug toward Dynamite. Droplets of water trail after it like the tail of a comet. Dynamite ducks, grinning, and winks at me.
"You know, if he didn't say it, I would have," I add.
Killjoy, unamused, narrows her eyes at me. "Agony."
As pissed as she is, there's a hint of a plea in her voice.
"Look, I realise I'm springing this on you out of nowhere, but what other options do we have? We put Hoofler in charge, and we'll either become jackbooted ethnic cleansers, or be ground up into glue. Or both. Sequentially. I am begging you, for the good of the company, and for your own good, for that matter, please accept."
I clap my hooves together, wringing them piteously. Killjoy casts a quick glance Hoofler's way. He unclenches his jaw and smiles disarmingly. She shudders.
"Son of a... fine. I accept." Killjoy shoves me, hard, with her hoof. "But you owe me double for this, Ags."
Hoofler's face falls. He mutters some foreign curse words under his breath, folds his forelegs, and pouts. Unable to contain my relief, I sigh heavily.
"Then it's official," I say. "Officers of the Sunheart Company... meet your new captain."
The announcement is met with stony silence.
"Applaud, you bastards!" Killjoy snarls. "Gimme your loyalty or I'll hop over this table and wring it out of your carcasses!"
The others snap to immediately; hasty, nervous applause fills the room. Everyone babbles out some form of a promise to serve her faithfully, although Hoofler doesn't so much babble his as he mutters it discontentedly. I watch him for a bit; somehow, I'm not sure that this turn of events will keep his ambition in check. Regardless, I dip my head low toward Killjoy.
"What are your orders, Captain? Command us as you see fit. My platoon and I are at your disposal."
"Oh, cut that out, you phony," Killjoy sighs. "If I need my boots licked, I'll ask Ulysses. Speaking of, Throatfuck, I've been in charge for a hot minute and my boots're still drier than your mother's snatch. Hop to it."
Ulysses almost gets up from his chair.
Peacemaker takes a long swig from his mug, swishes it around in his mouth, and swallows. "Agony's question still stands, Captain. What are your orders?"
Killjoy blinks, and hesitates for just a second longer than I'm comfortable with. But then she straightens, and speaks commandingly.
"As I recall, the Mining District's still a shit-show, and Agony's lost half his platoon to a slime thingy that I can only assume is some long-lost member of House Throatfuck. That seems like a good place to start, so I'm going to assemble a relief force. Candy, Bonepick, your platoons are the most expendable, so I want half each from you. Any questions?"
"Er..." Bonepick raises an awkward, tentative claw. "Kill— Uh, Captain? Captain Killjoy? Um... I would not advise withdrawing that many of my troops. If you weren't aware already, Captain Blackheart put us on sewer patrol, and Dragonfall's sewers are... well, I think this city would be overrun in a week if they were left unattended."
Killjoy frowns at that. "Fine. A quarter, then. Dynamite, you'll also provide a quarter from your platoon to make up for Bonepick's inadequacy. Hoofler has the bandit situation in the outlands sorta under control, so I think we can afford to take a few troops off the south gate."
Free Candy also raises a hoof. "Uh, I have a similar problem. Take away half my platoon's strength, and the orphans are going to slaughter those left behind."
"I don't see how that's a problem," I mutter.
"Half," Killjoy says firmly.
"You're not, um..." Free Candy gives her a nervous look. "You're not gonna have us executed after this, are you?"
"You gonna give me a reason to?"
"...Point taken." Candy sinks low in his chair as Bonepick strokes the top of his head comfortingly.
"Good talk. As for the rest of you..." She gives a long, sweeping look to the others, lingering last on me. "Until I say otherwise, it's business as usual. Lemme get a feel for how Blackheart was running this show. Anything changes, you'll hear from me soon enough. Only thing I can say for sure is that we're getting the hell out of here first chance we get, so be ready to move when it's time. Agony, stick around. The rest of you, dismissed."
My comrades quaff the last of their beer and rise. There's a palpable sense of optimism (or at least a modestly lowered sense of dread) as they file out, the serving mare and Boring Pony's replacement bringing up the rear. Killjoy stays where she's sitting, gazing longingly at the abandoned, half-finished mugs of beer on the table.
Hoofler stops beside me, looking calm and collected. He coughs, and places his forehooves on my shoulders.
I look at them skeptically. "Is there something you needed?"
"Indeed, mein freund." He smiles. "I vish to tell you zat zhere are no hard feelings over ze outcome of zis vote. And I know zat you meant none of ze awful, hurtful vords you said about me. Every single pony must secure his or her own future by any means necessary. Even if it means turning on one's sworn ballbruder."
"Hoofler, I meant everything I—"
"Shh, sh sh sh sh. Agony. Ze ozers are... mostly... gone." He glances disapprovingly at Killjoy, then leans in close my ear, whispering. "Regardless of outcome, you've inspired me yet again. Ze next time I run for office, I vill be as ruthless to mein opponents as you vere to me, be they friend, foe... or even mein ballbruder. And I vill vin... by any means necessary."
He pulls back, and I stare at him. My suspicion has blossomed into a creeping, percolating worry.
"...When else would you ever be running for office?"
"You shall see in good time. Tschüss, Agony. Und congratulations on a campaign hard fought."
Hoofler claps me, once, and leaves, pulling the door shut.
I turn to my mug and take a long drink of flat, tasteless beer. "I'd keep an eye on him if I were you, Killjoy. Something tells me we haven't seen the last of mein ballbruder's ambitions."
Killjoy doesn't answer right away.
"Hey, I'm trying to advise you here, Captain." I turn towards her. "Are you listening to me at— Uh..."
Killjoy is on the table, walking on tiphoof between the mugs that the others left behind. She pauses over each to glance inside before moving on to the next. Her wingtips are twitching, growing more frantic with each cup she passes over.
"Empty. Empty. Empty. Except Hoofler's – and that's full of tonic water." She growls. "Teetotaling son of a diamond dog."
I raise an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"
Killjoy's laugh is shrill and piercing. "I'm fan-diddly-freakin'-tastic, Ags! I'm the officer in charge of the company of the damned, stationed in scenic Hell on Earth, a position I totally asked for and wasn't at all blind-sided by!"
"Okay... you're under so many layers of irony right now that I can't tell exactly what you're getting at."
"You voted me captain, you slut!" Killjoy catapults herself across the table, belly-flopping hard enough to upset the mugs, and presses her muzzle against mine. "Without so much as asking, you foisted the responsibility for leading the company out of this hellhole onto me!"
Before I reply, I calmly flap my wings and retreat from her. I've known Killjoy a while; I've seen her in the throes of some truly excellent and impressive emotional episodes. This doesn't even rank in the top five so far, but then, she's only just starting to melt down, and I don't want to be in kicking, punching, or biting distance should it get out of hoof.
"It's not as if we had a choice, Killjoy, nor the luxury of time to talk it over. For both our sakes, this is the best outcome."
"Oh, fuck you."
Another interesting thing about Killjoy is that she swears like a griffon when she's riled up.
"Pretending to give a shit about anypony but yourself," she continues. "You didn't vote for me because you thought I deserved it! You voted for me because you couldn't get the job done yourself! This is just another tactic to you, isn't it?"
So she's offended. That's interesting; I didn't know Killjoy still had the necessary dignity to be offended by anything.
"I'll admit, it was a little self-interested of me. But I honestly believe you're the best fit for the job, besides myself."
"Besides yourself. Typical." Killjoy snorts and gives her mane a toss. "You know as well as I do that I ain't cut out to lead the company. Not in a place like this. Did you already forget what happened in Eyzrael?"
"You mean that thing with the orphans?" I break into a smile. "Killjoy, what are you talking about? That was brilliant! Not especially original, but—"
"They weren't supposed to die in that box canyon! It was supposed to be safe for them!"
My smile drops. "You... weren't using them as suicide bombers?"
"No, you dingus! I was trying to evacuate them!"
I tilt my head. "...Why would you do that?"
"'Why?' 'Why?' What the fuck is your damage, Agony?!" She screams and whirls around, whipping from side to side in a state of panic. "We are all going to fucking die, and whoever manages not to die is gonna string me up, because of course it's my fault that they all died, because I'm the captain, except it's actually your fault because you made me captain, so we're gonna get strung up together after they gang-rape our faces, and I'm gonna have to die sober because all of my comrades drank all of their beer and didn't have the fucking decency to leave any for me!"
This breakdown is rapidly approaching critical mass. "Er, Killjoy, if your sponsor were here—"
"Fuck the twelve-step program, Agony! I'll drink turpentine if I have to!"
She turns in circles, chasing her tail like a puppy, and babbling to herself like a puppy with an overactive imagination and years of untreated psychological trauma.
Normally, I'd stand by and let her work her issues out alone – she usually cries herself to sleep after a fashion. Then I carry her back to her bunk, draw a penis somewhere on her body, and leave her to sleep it off. But she's the captain now. If Hoofler, or someone else, walked in on her like this, it could spell the end for her tenure. We've never voted for a captain before; if any of the others decide they're having second thoughts, she could be relieved of command, and then we'd be right back where we started, except there'd be no possibility of securing even a stalemate.
I realise, with a heavy heart, that I must intervene.
I take a deep breath, hop onto the table, grab Killjoy's shoulders, and wrench her around toward me. She looks, startled, into my eyes, blinking hers twice. Squeezing mine shut, I lean in, and kiss her ardently. She stiffens and squeaks against my mouth as I push my tongue against hers.
"Hrmrmrmnnnrm," she mumbles.
Her taut shoulder muscles start to relax, and I can feel her wings hang limply over her sides, feathers brushing my hooves. That ought to do it. I pull away from her, our lips smacking wetly. When I look at her next, her eyes are half-lidded, and her expression is slack-jawed and dreamy.
"Are you with me?" I say softly.
"Unh-hnuh," she says, nodding droopily.
Then, before I can react, she spins, and double-bucks me hard in the barrel, sending me rocketing off the table and sprawling out on the floor. Splinters scratch and tear through my coat where the armor doesn't cover as I gasp for air.
"What did you do that for?" I wheeze, after several long seconds of coughing.
"What did I do that for? What did you do that for? You don't kiss a girl outta nowhere, Ags!" Killjoy hops from the table, scrubbing her mouth with her fetlock. "Sweet Celestia's crotchtits, when was the last time you brushed your teeth, and how many asses did you eat between then and now?"
I try to mumble a retort about that being rich coming from her, only to fall into another coughing fit.
"Yeah, you're right; I've been bringing up ass-eating a lot today. I dunno. Just feels like an assy kinda day." She gives her mouth one last rub, and sighs. "Well... that did shut me up, at least, so... thanks. I guess. Even if you still use way too much tongue."
"You never complained about that before," I splutter.
"My standards have long since risen."
Killjoy steps over to me and sits down, looking at me with some vague hint of emotion on her face. Pity, or... something else. She watches me like that for several minutes as I catch my breath.
"What am I supposed to do here?" she finally says, softly.
Grunting, I roll to put my legs under my body and try to stand, only to fall onto my belly immediately.
"Well, Bonepick and Candy still need killing. You might try sending them against the slime monster personally. Or, who knows, maybe Dragonfall will solve the problem for us. Those orphans that Candy's fighting are psychotic little maniacs; maybe they'll take him out and save us the trouble."
"That's not what I meant, dingus." That's the second time she's called me that – it almost sounds like a pet name this time. "What do I do about Dragonfall? I mean, I want us out of here as much as the next mare, but ask me how to get it done, and I couldn't begin to tell you."
I try to rise a second time. This time, I make it to my hindquarters. Progress.
"Don't worry. We have a leg-up with the local mayoral elections. We play our cards right, and we may possibly have a candidate in office who'll release us from the contract Blackheart signed."
"And if we play our cards wrong?"
"Then you should start looking into local property values. But I have a feeling this'll go well, just as soon as we work something out with the mob."
Killjoy gapes at me. "The what?"
"Ah, right." I scuff my hoof against the floorboards. "I should probably tell you; I struck a deal with the local crime syndicate. They killed Blackheart so I could take his place and help, er, facilitate their operations. So, uh, you'll have to deal with them in my stead. Might need to renegotiate some of the particulars."
"You put a hit out on Blackheart?!"
"It's more like, they offered, and I didn't exactly stop them, since he tried to kill me first and all." I cringe. "You're mad, aren't you?"
"No! Just... shit, Ags, we haven't even been here a week! Where did you even find the time?"
I shrug. Killjoy huffs and starts pacing again.
"This gig gets worse and worse every time you open your mouth, dude," she says.
"I'd apologise, but we both know it wouldn't be entirely genuine."
"Seriously, how did you piss off Blackheart enough that he tried to kill you? That dude was the mellowest merc I've ever met."
"Remember that photo album? I told him where we got it from."
"Sounds like something you'd do." Killjoy stops abruptly. "You didn't tell him I was in on it, did you?"
"Should've. But no." I grimace. "Not that it matters either way."
I rest my weight on my forehooves, then rise to all fours. I can keep my balance, I think, but not for long.
"Look, just keep it to yourself. And if it bothers you that much, then I'll handle things with the mafia. Just think of me as your liaison to the world of organised crime, okay?"
"Call it what you want, as long as you clean up your mess. Dingus."
Killjoy takes a deep breath and makes for the exit. She lingers for a moment, giving me another long, inscrutable look.
I squirm self-consciously. "What now?"
"Just curious." She looks past me and nods. "You never did explain the kid."
Oh, shit. Redwood. I actually forgot about her for a few blissful minutes.
I try to pivot to where my bastard is cowering, only to collapse to my belly, my entire chest still burning from Killjoy's sledgehammer blow. Once I've finished dealing with her, I might want to return to the Flying Golem and find whatever nice mafia doctor patched me up last time. It's not impossible that Killjoy collapsed one of my lungs. When I do manage to glimpse the girl, I see an ashen-faced, trembling little slip of a thing. It takes me a moment to realise why.
I cough and clear my throat, mustering enough oxygen to speak to her. "How much of that did you hear?"
Redwood swallows hard and mumbles, "Nyullumulluh... mlem num..."
"Fantastic, Ags," Killjoy mutters. "She heard everything, and she's so traumatised that she's forgotten how to talk. You're not too good with kids, are you?"
"Oh, be quiet, or I'll come over there and shut you up again." I reach toward Redwood plaintively. "Look, it's not like I murdered him or anything; he tried to kill me first, so it's totally justified. See, Killjoy and I sent him this photo album of his parents having sex, which we got from..."
I trail off. What the hell am I doing? This is Dragonfall; who's she going to tell? Who'll even listen to her? Why would I bother accounting for myself to a child, anyway?
"You know what, it doesn't matter. We have better things to do than sit here and rehash old history anyway."
I try to rise, only to fall to my stomach again. The floor, that splintery bastard, accommodates me. Surprisingly, Redwood stops her cowering and approaches me on tiphoof.
"Do you need some help getting up?" she asks, hesitantly.
Killjoy chuckles. "Wouldn't be the first time he's needed help gettin' up."
"Quiet, both of you," I wheeze. "I'm in enough pain without the two of you ganging up on me."
"Well, that's all your fault, you know," says Redwood, undeterred. "You really shouldn't'a kissed that pony without asking first; you're not supposed to kiss ponies without asking first. Mom said."
"Mom?" Killjoy's smirking at my misfortune, and not even bothering to hide it. "Who's your mom, sport?"
I brace myself for her reaction. "Do you remember Hard Cash?"
The crude, mocking laughter she replies with, I was expecting. That doesn't make it any easier to bear.
"Killjoy, please," I whimper. "This is difficult enough as it is."
Killjoy smacks her knee with her hoof.
"I warned you, dude! I fucking warned you about her! This is, like, the mother of all 'I told you so' moments! Or father, I guess, would be more appropriate. I can't believe you have to raise Cash's kid! Not that I'm complaining; I'm gonna relish watchin' you stumble your way through fatherhood."
"You'll relish nothing. I'm taking her to the East Side Orphanage. After that, I'm washing my hooves of her and her mother." I glare at Redwood. "Girl, make yourself useful and help me up, already."
Redwood, to her credit, obeys. She slings one of my forehooves over her neck, braces my flank with her own body, and pushes me until I rise enough to balance precariously on my hooves. I have just enough pride to feel humiliated by her help, but I'm in enough pain that I don't feel up to denying her. Gradually, we make our way toward the exit, Killjoy falling in with us and holding up my other side.
"Ags," says Killjoy quietly. "This orphanage... that's the one you and Candy were talking about before, right? You sure about leaving her there?"
"You'd rather I keep her in my barracks? Perhaps she could befriend the slime monster. Or I could put her in Free Candy's care. You must have seen how he looked at her today. Nothing but good intentions behind that gaze, I'm sure."
"You don't gotta be all sarcastic about it. I know this ain't the best place for her by a longshot. But didn't you say that the orphans there are all psychotic murderers, or whatever?"
"I realise that it's not ideal, but that's Cash's fault for leaving her here, not mine," I grunt. "Besides, if we keep her close, she'll be dead within days. At least at the orphanage, she'll have a fighting chance. And she'll be with other fillies and colts her own age, too, even if they are a bunch of tempermental, flea-bitten bastards."
"I don't wanna get bit up by fleas," Redwood chirps. "Am I gonna get bit up by fleas?"
"You should be so lucky. Most likely you'll get a tapeworm. Or a whole colony of roundworms wriggling around in your guts. Some kind of worm, I'm sure."
Redwood shudders and clings closer to me. "Can I please make friends with the slime monster, instead?"
"Don't tempt me." I look at the still-smirking Killjoy. "Also, ditching her there gives me an excuse to go and make peace with the little urchins. They're mostly inflicting themselves on Candy's troops for now, but orphan-related casualties were whittling down my platoon as well before the wall collapsed. I mean to put a stop to that today, before they run out of pedophiles to stab and move onto the rest of us."
Killjoy's smirk curdles into a more serious expression. "'Make peace.' That's not a euphemism for, like, herding them into a barn and burning them all alive, is it?"
"Might be. Depends how it goes."
"Wrong answer." Killjoy narrows her eyes. "Do not make me pull rank."
I sigh, exasperated. "I was kidding, okay? You can't take a joke?"
"Well, you do have a reputation..."
I chew on that, and nod reluctantly. She's not wrong. This vote was proof enough of that.
"I said I would make peace with the orphans, and that's what I'm going to do. No torturing, no massacring, no strapping bombs to their bellies and sending them to blow up in my enemies' faces."
Redwood squeaks. "B-Bombs? To their b-b—"
"Pipe down, girl, the grown-ups are talking."
Killjoy works her jaw, skeptically. "Gimme your word. Nothing fucked-up and evil – you make nice with the orphans, and you leave. Swear it."
I smile. "You have my word. My intentions are pure as the driven snow."
"Give up, you slippery little bastards!" I yell over the thunder through a megaphone. "I have over a hundred convicted rapists out here, and we have your Celestia-forsaken orphanage surrounded! Lay down your weapons and come out, or I promise, none of you will die virgins!"
I await the enemy's response as the rain pours down around us. The run-down orphanage lies ahead, a dilapidated three-storey structure surrounded by sandbags and barbed wire, with at least two dozen colts and fillies armed with slingshots and crossbows peeking out from behind the windows and fortifications. A nearby street sign, one of the first intact ones I've seen since coming to Dragonfall, helpfully informs me that we are on Atrophia Avenue.
Redwood sits to my left, clinging onto my leg and shaking like a leaf, though I can't tell if it's from fear or from the cold. To my right is the sergeant that Candy left in charge of this section, a balding, piss-yellow stallion with square glasses and a pencil moustache. I frown when I notice him staring at me.
"What?" I say, tersely.
"Just..." Sergeant Creepy Weirdo stumbles over his words, "I dunno... That's pretty messed up, is all."
"It is a negotiating tactic, you plebeian," I say in as condescending a voice as I can muster. "And besides which, you are in no position to judge me."
"I got in trouble for indecent exposure, not for anything like that. I mean, Celestia, dude, chill out. They're children."
I'm about to yell at the sergeant for his insubordination when I stop myself. This keeps happening today. I should have the moral high ground here, easily, yet he's talking to me as if I don't. It's just like when I lost the election to Hoofler. I must be doing something wrong to be earning all this disrespect, but I'm still not entirely sure what it is.
Another voice on a megaphone cuts through my introspection. "If you guys are all rapists, then why should we surrender to you?"
I look up to the roof to see the source of the voice, a brown-coated colt with a snowy-white mane, poking his head up from behind a sandbag. Two other foals stand guard either side of him, crossbows angled down towards me. I note with a twinge of annoyance that their weapons bear the Sunheart insignia.
Carefully considering my words to not draw any more judgemental remarks from Candy's sergeant, I respond.
"Well, it's your choice, kid. I probably wouldn't surrender either if I were in your shoes. But I can't just let you all go when you vicious little psychos keep stabbing our soldiers. So you can either surrender, or you can die."
"We didn't start this war, pig!" one of the orphans on the lower floors spits.
"Yeah!" shouts another.
"You came after us first!"
The colt on the roof speaks over the din of his comrades' jeers. "The Sunhearts started this, so you don't get to complain about us killing your guys. We're not gonna let a bunch of outsiders walk all over us. This is Dragonfall, and we don't surrender."
I lower my megaphone, and give a pointed look to the piss-coloured sergeant, who wilts slightly under my gaze.
"Is that true? Did we attack them first?"
"Errrrm... Lieutenant Candy may have ordered some... questionable arrests when we arrived for... entertainment purposes... I don't think he expected that abducting orphans and vagrants would yield such a high casualty rate on the platoon."
I smack my forehead and groan. "Celestia damn it, Candy..."
This doesn't surprise me, really. I should have expected that this was all Candy's fault. I really hope I can convince Killjoy to send him and his entire platoon on a suicide mission at some point.
At least it gives me the excuse I needed to steer the conversation towards peace talks and getting rid of Redwood.
"Okay, fine," I say, lifting the megaphone to my lips again. "You may have a point there. But we still can't allow these hostilities to continue. However we do it, the violence has to end. Now, I'm sure the Captain would be willing to let bygones be bygones, and I sure as shit don't care about avenging a bunch of foal fiddlers, but I'm not gonna tell these guys to stand down unless you're willing to do the same."
The orphan on the roof hesitates. From this far away, I can't easily make out his expression, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice when he responds.
"If you want to negotiate, you need to talk to the bosses."
"Great. Bring them out here."
"No," he says, much more firmly this time. "You come inside. Alone."
I roll my eyes. "I'm not putting myself in danger just to negotiate with you. We have the advantage, so you're not in a position to leverage demands."
"The Orphan Kings leave their thrones for nopony, especially not outsiders. You negotiate on our terms, or not at all."
I slowly blink.
Orphan... Kings...
I am seriously getting sick to death of Dragonfall's bullshit.
WHAT NEXT?:
1. Enter alone with Redwood and attempt to negotiate a peace.
2. Leave for now, let the siege continue, and return when they're starving.
3. Burn down the orphanage, for efficiency's sake.