//------------------------------//
// Pots, pans, and bruises 
// Story: Blackscale 
// by Leviathan 
//------------------------------//

There were three of them, each one standing next to the other in order to block the path through the frame.  The three looked at me with expressions that left me with no doubt that they knew what I was.  They were strong looking, burly really, but didn’t appear to have any weapons on them.  

I could take them on easily.  Well, usually.  Unfortunately, I was not at my then.  The stresses of nearly dying saw to that.  And It was far too risky to try and cast an illusion with that weakness.  The feedback from latching onto the unconscious magical nervous system of three individuals would likely send me reeling.  My approach to the problem would require a physical solution.

Or maybe all the situation required was a healthy dose of bull-crap.  

“So, what’s up?”  I smiled broadly, trying to act as innocent as possible with the ledger at my hooves.  The curved dagger on the counter didn’t look good either.  Neither did the brew of what I assumed was poison.  And I guess the book on naturally occurring toxins looked bad, too.  The smoke bombs might have looked suspicious...Yeah, this was going to be difficult.  

The guard on the far right spoke up to answer me.  “Mam’, I’m going to have to ask you to come with us.”

Well it was kind of a long shot.  But like I was always taught, play dumb until the very end.   “Uh, why?  I was just making a sandwich.”  I hope Idiot comes downstairs.  They wouldn’t dare try anything with her watching.  

“Uh-ha.”  He didn’t look convinced.  “We just need to ask you some questions.  It shouldn’t take long.”  Maybe I could try to act incompetent again.  

“What about?”  Just keep at it, Lulamoon.  They’ll get bored at some point.  Or frustrated.  

He narrowed his eyes at me.  “We’re taking a census.  We just need your help.”  A small smile crossed the corner of his mouth.  It looked pretty forced.

“I think I can answer any questions you have for me here, in the comfort of my home.”  If they knew who lived here then I could probably pass off as Idiot.  

His forehead creased.  “According to my reports this house belongs to a Miss Cherryfield.”  So that was idiot’s name.  Huh.  

The smile that crawled over my features was annoyingly bright and excruciatingly broad.  “That would be me.”  Where are you Idiot?   

The smile on his face broadened just a bit.  "Actually the mare who lives here is named Cherry Grover."  

Okay, that was pretty smooth.  I'll have to give him that one.  I can still play the fool, though.  "And that's my name.  I'm just a little shy about correcting ponies."  I smiled.

His eyes narrowed at me.  "You do realize Cherry Grover had to let us in, right?"

I hadn't actually thought of that.  Huh.  Maybe I did have a concussion, after all.  "Uh, we're both Cherry Grover.  You see, we're sisters and our parents were really uncreative.  I have a brother named Cherry Grover too."  

This seemed to do it in for the stallion.  “Ya’ know what?  Screw this.  You’re under arrest for treason.”  

Treason?  What treason was he talking about?  Was it when I sold government secrets to Saddle Arabia?  Maybe when I had that senator deposed.  Or it could just be because I was in a dangerous organization that operated like a cult.  Yeah, probably that last one.  

The stallion advanced on me while his two companions stood on his heels, waiting for me to do something stupid.  The gleam in their eyes...it was like they were daring me to make a move, daring me to try my luck on them.  Unfortunately for them, I was experienced, intelligent, and had poor impulse control.

The stallion stopped in his tracks.  “Now, I want you to take a few steps back from the countertop.”  He was trying to get me away from my weapon, eh?  Perhaps he didn't realize we were in a kitchen.  Because kitchens and bathrooms happen to be the best weapons ever crafted by pony kind! 

No, but seriously.  There's lots of hard stuff in em' and crap.  

So I complied, stepping into the shadow of the stove.  The stallion resumed his approach when he decided I was far enough away from the dagger.  But it wasn't the dagger he should've worried about so much as it was the boiling pot of grits behind me.  

The grits were pulled off of the stove and thrown into the guard’s face(I think I burned my hooves touching the pot.).  He reacted as most would to hot food being thrown in their face.  He recoiled, falling back a few feet towards the countertop.  Dropping the pot to the ground, I took the opportunity to advance on the stallion and smash his head against the curved marble lacing the counters.

The other guards in the room were already working towards me.  In a second they would be on me.  Acting as quickly as I possibly could I grabbed the dagger and threw it at one of the ponies.  

I had been aiming for the chest or lower throat, but my aim was off.  My hoof shook and I ended up tossing blade too low at a foe too close.  It barely ended up hitting one of the them in the hoof.  Luckily the dagger, while not large, was just large enough to penetrate her boot.  Soon she was rolling on the ground clutching his hoof.  

That just left one guard, who, due to my lack of planning, reached me.  He was a unicorn so I expected him to burst me down with a common stun spell.  So it was a bit surprising when he hit me across the face instead.  

I hit the kitchen floor, hoof pressed against the spot on my cheek.  I think the stun spell would have been preferable to the brutality.  I wasn’t on the ground for long, though.  The remaining guard grabbed me by the collar and shoved me against the countertop, holding a firm leg against my throat.  

While I wasn’t in range of a suitable weapon, I did have on way to express my disdain for the guard’s rough treatment.  Spitting.

“Aw!  Did you just spit on me!?”  He said as he wiped away the stain.

I sneered at him, letting my eyes express every hateful feeling I had.  Which was many.  Because I'm full of hate(and a few other things).  “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to handle a mare so roughly?”  

“Most mares aren’t capable of stabbing a guard and knocking out my squadron leader.”  His squadron of three?  I squirmed a bit, loosening his hold on my left arm.  He didn't readjust his grip to hold it down.  Maybe that would allow me to grab something.  

I smirked at him.  “Don’t forget about breaking a container of liquid over your skull.”

He looked confused.  “What?”  

My left arm shot out towards the bottle of...something...pulling it towards me in one fluid motion.  Squirming a little more out of his grip, I was able to bring the glass container above my head.  I forced it down on the guard’s head, shattering the glass bottle.  

The effect was instant.  He pulled away grasping at his face.  He screamed in pain as the glass shards dug into his snout.  Never one to let a chance slide by, I grabbed the pot laying on the ground and slapped it against the guard’s already abused face.  

It had the desired effect.  He quieted down.  Not dead quiet, just possibly fractured skull quiet.  

There was just the guard with the dagger in her hoof left.  It wouldn’t be too hard to deal with her.  At least, that was what I thought before she jumped me, holding the dagger in her fetlock(the obsidian handle made it resistant to magic).  

Sadly(for her) deranged mare with pot beats injured guard with knife.  Tossing the dented pan at the guard was easy enough.  I mean I couldn’t really miss with her limping at me.  The pot crashed against her chest plate, winding her.

She dropped the dagger, letting it fall to the kitchen floor.  An extremely dumb move on her part.  Darting to the weapon, I picked it up.  Just as the remaining guard was recovering her breath I was upon her.  I pressed her against the ground at the point of the tiny weapon.  It’s funny what ponies will do to avoid death, even if it means allowing yourself to be threatened by it.  The mare could have easily overpowered me in the situation.  I was so much smaller, yet she allowed herself to be shoved to the ground.

Still, I didn’t really want to risk her pulling something, so I pressed my hoof against her wound.  As you anyone would expect, the mare drew away, wincing against the pressure.  Using the hoof holding the weapon, I forced her head upwards so that her eyes could not look away from mine.  

Now, I am no fool.  These guards or Idiot will bear witness that one of the missing criminals is an azure mare with a silver mane.  One course of action would have been to kill every single living creature in the house, but that wouldn’t do.  

Idiot had saved my life, so, in technical terms, I owed her one.  While not killing her doesn’t exactly seem like proper payback, it was a start.  And since I wouldn’t be killing her that meant I didn’t have to kill the guards.

That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t prove useful, however.  

Staring deep into the eyes of my victim, I saw something: fear.  Fear was the one advantage I had over the institution.  None of them knew what I was capable of.  They wouldn't know if I was willing killer who derived pleasure from bloodshed or a basic criminal who was horrified at the thought of murder.  That mystery could lead to fear.  Fear could lead to mistakes and clumsiness.  And that could lead me to my family and the bastards who ordered this marehunt.  So fear would be, for quite a while, my best friend.

I smirked as evilly as I could, letting my eyes fall wide open to create what is normally known as “crazy eyes.”  If only I could force venom to drip out of my mouth.  

“Attacking me like that?  You must have a death wish.  That is so selfish.  I have one too, but I direct it towards others.  Unlike you, I like to share.  I want to see my fellow pony get every. Little. Thing. They. Deserve.”  I emphasized each word by pressing the blade deeper into the mare's chin.  I smiled wickedly at her.  Or, I tried to.  It is kind of hard.  I could only hope I avoided looking constipated.  

Apparently it wasn't a complete failure of facial muscles, because the mare was staring at me with her ears pressed against her skull and wide eyes.

Now, I’ve learned something in the years I’ve been alive.  Crazy and disturbed is far more frightening than intelligent and capable.  Even if it isn’t quite as dangerous.  Right then was the time to be crazy and disturbed.  

Now, one would normally think the key to intimidating another with a blade would be to cut them.  However, a far more effective tactic, as I was taught, was to cut yourself.  It may sound strange, and utterly mad, but there is logic behind it.  

Torture is all about fear.  The captive has to be constantly afraid of what could happen to them, of what will happen to them.  And often times, they’re fear of what will be done is far more damaging than what is actually done to them. 

So if you hurt yourself, say, out of anger towards the captive, then you’re bound to make them wonder, "If they’re willing to do that to themselves, then what are they going to do to me?"  And that fear and mystery is what everyone in the business of gathering information wants.

I frowned at the mare, allowing my harsh gaze to fall over her.  “It just makes me so angry, you know?  I mean how could you be so self-centered?”  I pulled the dagger against the skin of my hoof, drawing blood.   It hurt quite a bit.  It turns out drawing blood is a bad idea after burning yourself.  “Well!  How could you!”  I screamed into the face of the poor mare.  

I leveled my bloodied hoof over her face so that the descending droplets would land on her face.  She winced as each speck hit her.  The utter terror and shock on her face was clearly evident.  Her mouth moved a few times, but nothing came out.  Finally she croaked out two words.  “Please...stop...”

I continued on my fake rant, acting as if I was oblivious to her dread.  “Ponies like you sicken me.  You hold on to everything, never bothering to share it with the world.  But it’s not your fault.  You probably have a genetic imperative or something.  But it’s okay.  I can help you.  I can help you share.  Let’s start with something easy...How about a little more blood?”

Her eyes widened as I spoke, searching mine for any traces of sympathy or empathy.  She wouldn’t find an ounce of compassion.  I brought the dagger above her head, holding it steadily above her.  She was petrified.  I could smell the fear radiating off of her in waves.  Good.  Maybe she would share this experience with her cohorts.

Maybe even a rumor about me would get started.  A rumor about the azure monster that threatened Equestria's peace.  I could work with something like that.  

I brought the butt of the dagger against her collarbone, letting the hard obsidian hilt take care of her.  She passed out as soon the object made contact with her skin.  Unfortunately for her, I couldn’t stop there.  If the mare woke up and found herself unwounded(besides the hoof) she might become suspicious.  

A quick jab to the shoulder should take care of that.  A shallow jab, even.  I gently pushed the weapon into the shoulder blade.  It probably didn’t look like I was doing it gently, but I promise I was.  I definitely wasn’t furious at the mare’s organization for taking away my family and taking it out on her shoulder.  Nope, definitely not.  I pulled the blade out of the wound and stood up.  I totally didn't twist the blade before pulling it out of her either.  

It was time I gathered my things and left.  Walking back to the countertop I grabbed my saddlebags.  I dumped the remaining items in there, excluding the dagger.  It was a fine a weapon, but if there were guards here, they were likely all over Dodge City.  It would look bad if I was found with a bloody knife, or any kind of knife, really.  

I turned to the entrance frame of the kitchen, prepared to leave.  I may have forgotten about one little detail in the excitement, though.  

Standing in the doorframe was Idiot, her mouth hanging wide open at the sight before her.  She was sitting on her haunches, eyes glued to the bloody and bruised mess before her.  I don’t think she even blinked.

“Uh...hi?”

Her eyes didn’t move from the bloody mess.  

“You said we’re on the edge of Dodge City, right?”

She did not react to my question. 

“So which way to the center of town?”

Not letting her gaze drift from the guards unconscious bodies she lifted a hoof.  She pointed in a random direction.  

I coughed awkwardly.  Hopefully I hadn’t broken her.  That is definitely not how I wanted to pay her back.  “Thanks.  So...yeah.” 

I rushed past the dazed mare making my way for the door.  The guards had seen my coat color and hair color, but they hadn’t seen my cutie mark.  And my color could be changed easily with a spell...once I felt strong enough to actually perform an illusion.  

Brightwing’s instructions were still clearly laid out in my mind, each step as she had said it to me.  I was to get into Dodge City, get supplied, study the ledger, and find any of us who managed to escape. And I was almost ready to do that.  First I wanted to find a tavern and drink myself to death.  

Then maybe find out how to get the heck out of Dodge and find that traitor.