Devil In The Church
THUD! THUD! THUD!
White Dove barreled into the door, lowering her shoulder and slamming into the steel-reinforced barrier with all her might. White-hot rage boiled in her bloodstream. She’d risked her career for this? She’d let a strange mare into her checkered past for this? For a thug and her lying mare?
THUD! THUD! THUD!
“I’M GONNA COUNT TA THREE, BABS!”
Each slam against the unrelenting metal sent numbing pain shooting through her shoulder. Strengthened by both the Guard and the Academy, Detective White Dove bit her lip and continued, throwing herself at the door for all she was worth.
“OPEN THE BUCKIN’ DOOR, RIGHT NOW!”
Dove heard muffled, frantic voices beyond the door of the chamber, but paid them no heed. Panting, huffing and puffing, she paused, shaking with adrenaline. The pistol on her holster whispered to her, itching to be drawn. Another gangster. Another thug. Another layer of scum at the bottom of Manehatten Lake, separated from her vengeance by only a few inches of thick steel.
Steadying herself, Dove yelled, “ONE!”
Nothing.
She leaned back on her hindhooves, rippling sinew and muscle beneath her coat. “TWO!”
Nothing.
White Dove snorted angrily. Furiously, she screamed again, offering one more chance that Babs Seed did not deserve. “THREE!”
Slowly, the door swung open.
White Dove galloped into the threshold, just as Lucky Toss emerged.
The stallion threw himself forward, meeting her velocity with his. Stopping her.
Two immovable objects they were, smacking together in unstoppable force. Slightly taller and a little stronger, the patrol officer halted the detective in the threshold. Twin exhalations of rage were exchanged, dragons both, close enough to smell the other's breath.
"DOVE!"
Lucky grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and braced his hindhooves, stomping them into the concrete floor of the chamber. His nostrils flared and his brow furrowed, his jaws clenching as he spat through them, "Don't listen ta him! He's jus' a—"
"BUCK YOUZE, LUCKY!" White Dove snapped her gaze over his shoulder and struggled against him, flailing to worm her way out of his grasp.
There, Babs Seed was standing tall on four steady hooves in front of Apple Bloom. Every hair across her spine and neck bristled to attention. Dove could practically taste the venom in her blood from across the room. Across Babs's muzzle was the grimace of a demon, her ears flattened, her teeth glistening in the dim light in contrast to the darkness.
Babs dug a forehoof into the floor, letting loose a low, guttural growl.
Come at me, youze buckin' bitch.
Struggling to hold her, Lucky snapped, "Buck youze!! Youze 'bout ready ta tear a mare in half jus' because o' what some scumbag says?!"
Ignoring him, White Dove took a deep breath, then bashed her skull against Lucky's with all her might.
WHUMP!
Dazed, the stallion fell backwards into the chamber, echoing with a THUD! as he landed against the cold floor. Shaking off her own resounding dizziness, Detective White Dove sprang off her hindhooves like the Guard she'd been, pouncing towards her enemy.
There was no spear, sword, or gun in her forehooves, but she was just as deadly.
As soon as she saw the detective coil, Babs Seed called upon her own strength, and jumped up in time with her.
~
On the other side of the glass, Card Slinger shred his last thread of sanity, rocking and bucking and squirming with every ounce of strength he had left. Throwing his neck back, he howled to the gray room, as mournful as a timberwolf on a moonless night. His screeching dissolved into incomprehensible gibberish.
"What the buck is wrong wit' youze?! Get a hold o' youzeself!" Officer Rustler grabbed the stallion by the muzzle and smacked him for the umpteenth time, hard.
WHACK!
"Aaarrrrrrrraggggggggggggaaaaaaaa!"
WHACK!
"Shut up!"
WHACK!
Blood trickled down Card Slinger's snout, his nose throbbing in searing pain. He thrashed harder, flexing his tired muscles against the chains. Iron chafed against his flesh with every minute movement, sounding all manner of alarms within his mind. His whole world was nothing but pain, all rational thought burnt to ashes.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Rustler drew his baton from its sheath. The wild eyes of his captive focused on it immediately, a drop of blackness against the infinite sea of gray. Card Slinger screeched and throbbed in his chair.
"Iffa youze don't shut up, asshole, youze gonna know a whole new world of pain."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Slinger started rocking the chair from side to side again, desperately flexing against the chains.
Channeling his rage through the gentle stroke of a forehoof against the baton, Rustler murmured, mockingly soft, "C'mon now, Card Slinga. Youze jus' hurtin' youzeself. Calm down. All I wanna do is talk."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
"C'mon now, lil' fella. Use youze words."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
"I know youze can."
Around his forehooves, which were pinned helplessly to his sweat-soaked back, links of chain grinded against each other, over and over again, jagged tongues of metal struggling for dominance. Neither was the victor. Both began to submit. Friction of indescribable magnitude sent pain soaring through Card Slinger, but all he could do was continue, rocking harder, thrashing faster.
Rustler tapped his baton against his opposite forehoof. "I'm gonna count ta three."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Some of the links were rusted. Others were simply thinner, worn down by countless interrogations. Card Slinger knew that the Master sent many to die here, and that if his desperate plan didn't succeed, he would soon join the ranks of the forever damned.
"One..."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Screeching. Howling. Screaming. Thrashing. Rocking. Grinding. Flexing. Gnashing his teeth.
"Two..."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Card Slinger had never touched true Earth in his life before the wasteland. Even the clearing in Manehatten Lake had been but a tiny spark in a world of darkness. He was an Earth pony by definition only. He had never know true strength or connection or love or spirit. By fates both beyond his control and within his own doing, he'd imprisoned himself in the concrete jungle, never to know what he might have been.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
But, in spite of being weaker than he could be, he wanted to live.
And that was enough.
"THREE!"
~
If Lucky Toss and White Dove were two immovable objects meeting with unstoppable force, then she and Babs Seed were a locomotive and a bullet train flying off the rails and crashing in the middle.
SMACK!
Driving her iron forehooves into Dove's shoulders, Babs Seed pinned the detective against the wall. Dove, although slightly smaller, was caught off-guard by her strength. Despite being here, in the hallowed halls of ponykind's pathetic edifice, separated eternally from the Earth, Babs was still an Earth pony, and a magical one, at that.
White Dove groaned in pain and flung her forehooves over Babs's neck in response, starting to squeeze. "Youze buckin' thug! Youze behind all dis shit?!"
Babs Seed stomped on one of Dove's hindhooves in reply.
Dove howled and released her neck, waves of agony flooding through her. She snapped at Babs Seed, biting down on her left ear and tugging at it.
Babs brought a forehoof up to her ear and screeched, blood dripping from the freshly opened nick and down her earring. Bitch! How did she...?! She closed her eyes for a moment—a mistake.
WHUMP!
White Dove returned the first favor, launching into Babs Seed and sending them flying against the opposite wall. She hadn't had her pinned for more then a few seconds until Dove was on the floor again, the thug sprawled on top of her, pummeling her muzzle without remorse.
Right hook, left hook. Right hook, left hook. Take! Dat! Youze! Buckin'! BITCH!
Hooves of white and orange found each other, coats exchanging positions in a twisted tango of fur and keratin, as the two Minotaurs in mare's clothing matched blow for blow, hold for hold, a sea of writhing, screeching flesh on the concrete. They kicked up a cloud of dust from the dirty floor, further blurring their haze of limbs and chorus of off-key howls and screeches.
All of this transpired within less than a minute. Lucky Toss groaned and rolled on the floor, held hostage by the clutches of Dove's blow. Apple Bloom watched the bizarre scene unfold before her, fumbling for a weapon she didn't possess, her hooves trembling with paralyzing fear. There was nothing she could do, she knew. Detective White Dove was stronger than her—about as strong as Babs Seed—and there was no liquor or love to weaken the officer or hold her back. And White Dove had—
THUD!
White Dove was on top of Babs Seed now, squeezing around her barrel with her hindhooves. Babs thrashed and bucked, but the detective held tight, fumbling with her forehooves towards the pockets of her blues—
Apple Bloom's eyes widened. No.
Rolling them over, Babs Seed was the stronger again, smacking White Dove square across the muzzle. Spitting blood, the detective grabbed both sides of Babs's head, then drove her skull upwards into her chin, hate and malice in her veins.
The tiny viewing chamber began to dissolve into a blanket of black, a thousand points of light twinkling back at her. Babs groaned and started to sway, her breath catching in her throat. Unable to breathe or even think, she started to fall towards the floor.
Just in time, Detective White Dove grabbed her and flipped her over. She straddled her back a second time, hanging tight, fumbling for something in her pockets, and then withdrawing it, a flash of silver—
No. No.
NO!
WHUMP!
"AAAAAH! FUCK!"
The pistol slid across the floor, smacking into the opposite wall, barrel first.
The trigger remained untouched.
Suddenly, White Dove was flat on her back on the floor, mere feet from the door and her dazed fellow officer. An enraged mare towered over her, slamming her shoulders into the ground repeatedly.
Eyes full of fire, Apple Bloom screeched into Dove's face, spraying her with spittle, "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"
Near the one-way glass, Babs Seed leaned against the wall and coughed, gasping for breath.
White Dove drew a forehoof back, only to be met with one whipping across her cheek. Once. Then twice. Then three times, a muddled blur sending pain proliferating through her face and down her spine and up her spine. She coughed up blood and flailed, knowing this mare was far weaker and smaller than her, but couldn't even open her eyes, so much was the pain...
"DON'T YOU FUCKIN' TOUCH HER! YA UNDERSTAND ME?!"
Shallow, ragged breaths bringing Equestria back into focus, Babs Seed opened one eye and looked towards the corner. Ap-Apple Bloom?
"WE AREN'T GANGSTAS!"
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
White Dove brought her forehooves to her face, opening and closing her mouth in a silent scream. All she wanted now was for it to stop, stop, Oh please, Celestia, ma Princess, please make dis buckin' mare stop—
"THEY TRIED TA KILL OUR FAMILY!"
Please, please, Celestia, ma Lady, please, please, let me go, I have ta go home ta Manehatten—
"THEY TRIED TA KILL US!"
Because dat's where ma mare is, an' let me be wit' her—
Apple Bloom punched Detective White Dove square in the snout one last time, the river of blood dripping down her nose as scarlet as her own mane.
Apple Bloom rolled off the detective, dragged herself into a corner, retched, and vomited.
Letting everything go, everything unspeakable and disgusting and disturbing and wrong and black, so much black, so much black and gray and blue.
Apple Bloom emptied the contents of her stomach until she could barely hold herself up off the ruined floor, coughing, spitting, dry heaving, and gagging, tears rolling down her cheeks. It burned. Oh, Celestia, did it burn.
For an even longer minute, the back chamber was silent, but for weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Heavy hoof-steps approached her. Then, a set of forehooves wrapped themselves gently around her stomach.
"Babs..."
"Shhh..."
Babs Seed held her mare as she threw up the last of poisonous Manehatten, stroking her mane and whispering sweetly to her. Dots of blood found Babs's neck and her mane from her ear, deep, black bruises erupting over her face and chest. But that didn't matter. Nor did the two Manehatten police officers groaning in agony on the floor, or the thrashing, flailing, screaming madpony beyond the glass.
For a second time, Apple Bloom repaid a debt she didn't owe, and all Babs Seed could do was hold her.
Wiping her muzzle, Apple Bloom leaned back into Babs Seed, closing her eyes and catching her breath. For a moment, they were in their own little world, where everything was alright.
A rough, low cough yanked them from that perfect paradise, settling them once again in Tartarus.
Babs Seed turned around, rising to her four hooves, shielding Apple Bloom's weakened body with hers.
White Dove gurgled and rolled over, staring daggers into the Manehatten thug. "So..." She choked and gasped, her breath coming out in little wheezes. "So... dis is how it ends, does it?"
Dove glanced over to her pistol at the opposite side of the chamber and to the one still holstered on Lucky Toss' shoulder.
Too far away.
Her hackles rising, Babs said darkly, "I don't kill ponies."
Dove laughed, hollow and cruel. "Not... ack!... accordin' ta youze buddy ova there." She nodded towards the glass, where Card Slinger was snapping back and forth like a whip behind it, a maniac escaped from the asylum.
"He's not... her buddy... ack..."
Three muzzles turned towards the corner, right next to the steel door.
Opening one eye, then another, Lucky Toss coughed and smiled weakly. He turned to the mare who'd robbed him of a few minutes of his consciousness and gave him a goose-egg on his forehead instead. "Dat's what I was tryin' ta tell youze..."
Toss gritted his teeth and shakily sat up on his haunches. "Youze stupid, buckin' bitch."
White Dove started to speak, but thought better of it, biting her lip.
With sudden energy, he barked, "LOOK WHAT YOUZE DONE!"
Lucky Toss gestured to the two mares in the corner, savior of each other, huddled closely now. Babs was whispering comforting words to Apple Bloom as the smaller mare examined her injuries, both of them with their peripherals on White Dove.
The stallion stomped towards the detective, standing over her, one of his forehooves moving dangerously close to his baton. "I should beat the shit outta youze! Youze assaulted a fellow officer an' two innocent ponies, youze piece o' shit!
"What in Tartarus is WRONG wit' youze?!"
"Lucky, I—"
"Celestia, have youze gone so buckin' far off the deep end dat youze'll jus' attack anypony who points a hoof at anypony else?!"
"Lucky—"
He lowered his head to her level.
"NO!" Lucky Toss bellowed, his baritone drilling its way into White Dove's ears. She howled and thrashed, but didn't make a move to stand up or strike him, something within her finally breaking, giving way. Giving way to the truth.
White Dove didn't join the force for justice. She joined it for revenge—for the thrill of taking away from others what had been denied to her.
She was just as mad as Card Slinger, the screeching, babbling mess beyond the glass, who, no matter how many times Officer Rustler continued to strike him, could say nothing but cryptic nonsense.
Lucky Toss looked up from his disgraced partner towards the mares. Flattening his ears in shared shame, he approached them gently, placing a forehoof on Babs's shoulder. "Are youze two alright?"
"No," Babs said, wrapping a forehoof around Apple Bloom protectively, "but we'll be fine." She glared at the sprawled detective, strangely elated to see bruises erupting all over her as well. Youze buckin' bitch. We trusted youze. We came all the way fo' dis, an' we trusted youze.
Nodding sadly, Officer Lucky Toss whirled around on White Dove.
"Youze ain't nothin' but a thug youzeself, hurtin' innocent ponies. Nothin' but a thug, youze is. Hay, dis whole department is. Dis whole city."
"I've had enough," he said.
And drew his baton.
Dove glanced again across the room, towards the gun. She looked over to her own baton, still nestled in its sheath.
Too far away. Too close. Too much. Too little.
Too everything.
Lucky Toss held his weapon high.
Flinching at the sight, Babs Seed looked away, and Apple Bloom with her. They found their hindhooves frozen, cemented to the floor. They huddled together, longing to return to that little world again, at least until Lucky Toss escorted them out.
And then, that would be the end of it.
Lucky Toss stared down at White Dove, stared at the mare who would be his mentor, his partner, his mare in a perfect world.
But he knew that this was no perfect world.
The baton shook in his forehooves, nopony saying a word but the demon in chains on the other side of them.
Finally, his heart thundering, Lucky Toss dropped his baton and, with one swift motion, tore the silver badge off his blue uniform.
It clinked against the concrete as it landed, while the baton rolled away, joining Dove's pistol. The two weapons nestled against each other against the wall, harmless without the hooves of demons wielding them.
"I quit."
Turning again to Babs Seed and Apple Bloom, Lucky urged, "C'mon. Let's go."
Babs began to object, "But, Lucky, we don't—"
"It's ova. C'mon. Let's go."
Babs Seed waited for Apple Bloom to look up from her chest and nod before rising to her hooves.
~
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
The chains around his forehooves finally let loose.
And so did Card Slinger.
Lurching forward, he grabbed both Officer Rustler by the neck and squeezed, twisting side-to-side.
Rustler howled at the burning pain and rose his baton.
That's when Card Slinger tipped the chair backwards again.
They fell, blue stallion on top of red, Rustler landing with an "OOF!" Slinger's back smacked against the concrete, resounding loudly throughout the empty chamber. But that, however, only seemed to fuel him.
Squeezing tightly around Rustler's neck, he barked, "Lemme go! Lemme go o' I'll buckin' strangle youze!"
Clutching Slinger's fetlocks, Rustler choked, "No—way—in—hell—dirtbag!"
Slinger responded by squeezing tighter while rolling his hips side-to-side, grinding together steel links that he knew could be broken. Every minute movement dug into his flesh, and he could discern the subtle shade of a different red marring his coat. But adrenaline fueled him, and little victories—such as choking the investigator—spurred him onward, making him forget his pain.
Turning a deeper shade of blue, Officer Rustler thrashed and rolled, whipping out of Slinger's grasp and sliding across the floor. Coughing, fumbling for air, he tried to drew his weapon, his forehoof moving lazily in front of his eyes as if he were underwater. The gray sea began to rock him, singing its lullaby, mighty waves of tempting unconsciousness rising and falling before his eyes...
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Counting the seconds, Slinger cursed, "Come on! Come on! Fuck youze chains, c'mon!"
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The grinding of metal against metal—and then, with a mighty snap, the links binding Card Slinger's hindhooves to the steel chair fell away, snipped like his sanity.
Panicking, Officer Rustler wretched his forehooves to the grip of his pistol, then slowly began to pull it from his sheath.
Cackling, howling in triumph, madpony without restraints, Card Slinger leapt at the officer, forehooves outstretched.
It was time for King Crazy to play.
~
"Wait!"
Crawling on her belly, a snake in uniform, White Dove weakly rolled onto her side and looked up to the three. "Wait!"
"It's ova, Dove," Lucky Toss deadpanned. He spat on the ground and stomped a few steps away from her.
Breaking her silence at last, Apple Bloom spun around out of Babs Seed's hooves and shrieked, "Ah shoulda shot ya wit' yer own gun, ya dumb bitch!"
Stones of all manner and weight settling in her throat, chest, and stomach, Dove stuttered, "B-Babs, Bl-Bloom, I—"
"Ah trusted you!"
Now, it was Apple Bloom's turn to stomp and shout. Babs Seed sidled up and stood beside her, hurling daggers towards White Dove with a piercing, razor-sharp glare.
"Ah listened ta yer whole sorry life story, an' this is what ya do?!" Lurching forward, ears flattened, Apple Bloom stared into the detective. Stains of tear-streaks shining in the dim light, she demanded, "Ya repay ma kindness wit' tryin' ta shoot us?! What kinda detective are ya?!"
"I—"
"Ah bet ya know who went out West!"
"I—"
"Ah bet yer one o' 'em!"
To the surprise of Lucky, Babs, and Dove herself, Apple Bloom rushed around and lifted the mare's tail. Dove blushed a deep scarlet and squirmed angrily, rolling herself onto her back. "'EY! What are youze—"
"Where's the orange?! Huh?!"
This time, it was Lucky who spoke up. "Apple Bloom—"
"WHERE'S THE ORANGE?!"
Babs Seed trotted over to her, the rational one for once in her lifetime. Placing a forehoof on Apple Bloom's shoulder, she whispered, leaning close, "Bloom, let's go. Dis is a waste o'—"
"HELP!!!"
Instinctively, Babs Seed spun around, pulling Apple Bloom with her.
Beyond the glass, Card Slinger stood on four free hooves, pinning Rustler down to the floor and beating him with his own baton, the weapon clutched tightly between his jaws.
Officer Rustler, staring into the false wall, screamed once more. Begging. Pleading. "DOVE! HELP ME!"
Card Slinga.
The root o' all dis.
Free.
"Babs!"
Bruised but not broken, Babs Seed shot off her hooves as fast as they could carry her, Apple Bloom churning after her. Lucky Toss spat one more time on the ground, drew his pistol, and galloped after the mares.
Detective White Dove rose slowly to her hooves, trotted over to her pistol, holstered it, and exited the chamber.
She shut the door behind her, the stench of blood and vomit and deception and foalishness and evil sealing inside.
~
Officer Rustler rolled from one side to the other, dodging blows from his own weapon by inches or less. Adrenaline making it impossible to rationalize, he broke one of the cardinal rules of being a male and kicked upwards between Card Slinger's flanks.
"Son o' a—AAAAH!"
Falling to the floor, Card Slinger clutched at his most sensitive of flesh, abused for a second time this horrid day. Shameful tears leaked from his eyes as he writhed, willing the pain away. Rustler, breathing deep, scrambled to his hooves and drew his gun, training it on the stallion.
"Youze... wouldn't... dare..." Slinger managed between groans, amazed that he was still alive in spite of everything.
"Make... ma... day... bucka..." Rustler challenged, the pistol shaking in his grip, stars and swirls still dotting his vision.
Grunting, Card Slinger rose to his hooves, brushing one of his flanks against his tender injury. "Heh. Kill me an' all ma information dies."
"Youze... ain't gonna... talk, anyway..."
Slinger smiled.
"Well, then...
"Let's jus' play..."
Card Slinger jumped at Rustler.
BANG!
The bullet sliced through the air and underneath the leaping stallion, embedding itself in the wall of the interrogation room. Tackling the investigator to the ground, Card Slinger grabbed the gun and flung it in his teeth, tossing it against the wall.
BANG!
A second round, a misfire, unloaded, sending both stallions covering their heads with their forehooves. Ricocheting off the wall, then the ceiling, then another wall, the bullet finally stopped right behind Card Slinger, miraculously missing him.
"Must be ma lucky day," Slinger said with a chuckle before slamming Rustler's head into the wall.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Slinger held him tightly, pinning the officer's hindhooves with his, pressing his weight against Rustler as he bashed his head in, over and over again.
"Dat... all youze got...?" Rustler gasped, numbing pain immobilizing his limbs.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
The stars appeared once more, bright and beautiful. "Kill me like a stallion, fucka..."
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Officer Rustler saw three ponies rear up in his mind's eye: two mares, one stallion. He'd failed them all. He didn't deserve to join them, but he was going to, despite all his best efforts.
Rustler pleaded once more, wanting a proper death. "Not like dis, youze thug..."
Drawing the investigator's head back one more time, Card Slinger prepared for the killing blow.
Unholy light poured into the room in the blink of an eye, blinding him as he spun to look at it.
A creature from his nightmares, bruised and bloodied, rage oozing off her with every breath and every blink, galloped into the gray chamber, leaping over the desk and calling his name.
"CARD SLINGA!"
~
It was everything and nothing in the same moment. It was all she'd envisioned and nothing she'd dreamt. It was redemption and damnation in the same bound, holy sin, as she brought her forehooves down, stretching out her body as fear as she could, then bearing down upon him.
Barreling into him. Pinning him against the wall.
Face-to-face, muzzle-to-muzzle.
The stallion who, in some twisted way, she owed herself to, if only to finish what they'd started oh so long ago.
She remembered her vow.
If I eva, I mean, EVA catch youze on ma property o' harmin' anypony else again… whether it’s me, o’ ma family, o' some foal down the street… I will find youze, Card Slinga. An' I will kill youze.
She pressed a forehoof to his neck, threw all of her weight against it.
Red turned to white.
He laid there, making no move to stop her.
If anypony was going to kill him, Card Slinger reasoned, it would be the one who'd spared his life to begin with. Not some dirty cop. Not some servant of Madhoof.
Despite his ramblings, he knew, somewhere in his dark heart, that she was not a Knight.
And he didn't want to die by one.
White turned to blue.
"Youze killed ma friends..."
Three sets of hooves rushing into the chamber with her.
Rustler scrambled his, swaying, trying to stand.
"Youze killed dem in cold blood..."
Card Slinger's eyes wide, black as onyx.
Babs Seed's eyes narrow, green as emerald.
"Youze tried ta kill me..."
Staring into her.
Staring into him.
"Ta kill ma mare..."
Staring into each other.
Intimate in a way that no love could explain. Intimate in the bonds of death and darkness and misfortune and bad decisions and fate and hate and anger and rage and blood, so much blood, so many battles in the forest and the street and the sand and everything leading up to this moment, passing over their eyes.
Kill me, he said silently. Let it be ova.
Card Slinger moved a forehoof up to hers.
Let it be ova.
Babs Seed closed her eyes.
Youze don't deserve it ta be ova.
And let him go.
~
Card Slinger fell to the floor, gasping wildly, a fish out of Manehatten Lake.
Babs Seed backed away, staring at the ground.
"Babs! Youze alright?"
"Babs! Are ya okay?!"
BANG!
White Dove fired a warning shot into the ceiling, burying the bullet above. Three ponies dropped to the ground, then rose when the danger passed.
Holstering her smoking gun, Dove galloped over. Card Slinger lay flat on his back on the floor, gasping, choking, sputtering, coughing for oxygen. Officer Rustler swayed and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his neck and muttering to himself.
Babs Seed stood there, motionless, Apple Bloom rubbing her shoulders and nuzzling her neck. Reversing roles. Equal now. As they had been. As they always would be.
Drawing a pair of hoof-cuffs from his defunct uniform pocket, Lucky Toss wretched Card Slinger's forehooves behind his back. He met no resistance. Yanking him up by his mane, Lucky brought Slinger back to the steel chair, put it upright, set him down, and cursed.
"Fuckin' psycho broke the chains."
Without addressing her, Toss turned around, speaking to the floor. "Give me youze hoof-cuffs."
Dove complied.
Making do, Lucky Toss shackled one of Slinger's hindhooves to the leg of the chair. Slinger continued to pant, the stars slowly fading from his eyes.
Lucky Toss trotted over to Officer Rustler and assisted him to his hooves, flinging the investigator's forehoof over his shoulder. "Youze alright, buddy?"
"I... I think so..."
"Okay. I need youze hoof-cuffs real quick—"
"Wha... Who...?" Rustler looked from Babs Seed and Apple Bloom, to Dove, to Lucky, to Slinger, his mind blanking.
Lucky shook his head. "We'll get ta dat in a minute. Right now, we need ta restrain dis prisoner, then decide what ta do wit' him."
"Okay." Rustler retrieved a set of hoof-cuffs from one of his pockets and passed it to Lucky Toss.
A few more clicks of metal and steel, and Card Slinger was restrained once more.
For a moment, all was silent but for the deep breathing of Rustler and Slinger.
Lucky Toss sat beside Babs Seed and rubbed her shoulder. "What happened?"
"It's alright, Babs. Ah'm here," Apple Bloom said quietly, nuzzling the stoic mare. "Tell us."
Babs sighed.
"Did he hurt youze?"
All faces turned to Dove.
Babs glared at her. "What do youze care?"
"I, well—"
Babs answered anyway, "No, he didn't."
"He didn't?" Lucky asked, flabbergasted.
"I could've killed him, but I didn't," Babs said.
Silence.
And then, from the chair, a reply.
"Youze should have."
Card Slinger looked up.
Babs Seed trotted over to the desk, sitting down across from him.
"Youze don't deserve ta die jus' yet," Babs Seed said, her fury demonstrated in her monotonous tempo.
Slinger raised an eyebrow.
Babs Seed looked over to Lucky Toss and Rustler, refusing to acknowledge White Dove. "He knows what happened in the West."
"Yes," Apple Bloom said, joining Babs's side and shooting a look meant to kill towards Slinger, "he does."
"The West?" Rustler rubbed his forehead and grunted. "What 'bout the West?"
Lucky Toss sighed. "It's a long story."
"Is dat why we have two civilians in heeya?"
Normally, such a breach of protocol would've sent Officer Rustler into a fit of righteous rage. Since Babs Seed's foalish and stupid actions had saved him from becoming a puddle of blood on the pavement, he cast aside all thoughts of formality for now.
"Yes." White Dove strode up, standing next to Lucky Toss and Rustler. "Yes, Rustla," she explained, "dat is why. Dey reported ta us dat he led an' assault on the West. Lucky an' I were actually tryin' ta find records o' him earlier, befo' he got 'rrested."
"Youze won't find any records o' me," Slinger replied snidely.
"We know," Rustler snapped, flaring his nostrils towards the gangster.
"No 'mount o' beatin' is gonna get the truth outta youze, is it?" Lucky glared at his former best friend, knowing that if he were alone with Slinger—officer or no—he wouldn't have been as merciful as Babs Seed.
Card Slinger shook his head. "Why should I? Youze ain't no help. The police neva are." He neglected to add, I was a fool fo' thinkin' so.
"Can't argue wit' dat," Babs mumbled, glaring at White Dove. She pulled Apple Bloom close to her and turned towards both male officers. "Well, youze can thank me later fo' savin' youze life." Both o' youze. Celestia knows what Dove would've done ta Lucky iffa...
Shuddering at the thought, Babs smiled weakly towards her mare. "C'mon, Bloom. Let's go home."
They had only walked a few steps, tails entwining, when somepony shouted, "WAIT!"
They stopped.
White Dove looked hopefully towards the mares.
She said weakly, trotting up to them, "Babs... Apple Bloom... I'm sorry."
Rustler prodded Lucky in the shoulder, realization dawning on him. All four of them were bruised and scratched—not enough to warrant a doctor, but bad enough. "Whoa! Did summat happen back there between youze four?"
Lucky Toss whispered back, "Dove an' Babs went at it, an' Bloom, too. Dove lost her shit. Was gonna shoot somepony. Oh," he added, mock-cheerfully, "an' I quit the force."
Lost for rational thought, Rustler shook his head. "Horseapples..."
Although aware of their hushed exchange, White Dove said nothing, standing beside Babs Seed and Apple Bloom. She pulled her badge off her uniform and threw it on the ground. "I admit it, alright?"
"Admit what?" Babs asked, her anger beginning to rise once more. Youze lucky I have some shred o' morality...
The disgraced mare removed the holsters of her baton and pistol, laying them carefully beside her badge. Vulnerable, Dove sat down before both mares, and spoke her final apology, no longer caring what anypony knew, what anypony thought, what anypony believed.
Manehatten could know. Equestria could know. The Earth itself could know. It was all over, anyway.
"I joined the force ta get revenge. Ta get back at those who hurt me. Who killed ma mare."
Babs stiffened, eyes wide. Apple Bloom nodded and murmured to her mare, "It's true, sugarcube."
"Is... is dat what youze were talkin' 'bout earlier? Dat youze wouldn't tell me 'bout?" Babs asked of both Apple Bloom and White Dove. Both nodded.
Oh, wow.
Babs looked at her hooves. "I'm... I'm sorry ta hear dat."
Dove shrugged. "Don't be. Ain't youze fault."
Before anypony could get a word in edgewise, Dove continued, "I joined on false pretenses ta get back at the killas. Ta clean the streets. Ta make Manehatten ma home again. Because it was s'posed ta be.
"It was s'posed ta be our home."
The others, Card Slinger included, stayed silent.
"All I've done these past two years is hate. Hate an' hurt an' rage an' drink. I lost it when dis asshole—" Dove pointed to Slinger, who remained stoic and still in his chains—"called youze out. I should've known dat it wasn't true. I hurt youze both," she said to the mares, "an' ma partna," she finished, looking at Lucky Toss.
"So, I'm sorry. I'm goin' back ta Canterlot. Maybe Celestia will forgive me."
White Dove unbuttoned the top few buttons of her uniform and started towards the door.
Her steps echoed in the silent ocean of gray.
Clip-clop.
Clip-clop.
Cli—
"Wait."
She stopped.
All turned to Card Slinger.
"Who was youze mare?"
Dove answered the scum of Manehatten Lake, having nothing left to lose.
"Her name was Fenca."
Lucky Toss, Card Slinger, and Babs Seed went white.
Ma bully?! The bitch who whacked off ma tail an' tried ta wit' ma mane?!
Slinger said, "She wasn't a hit."
"Say dat 'gain?" Lucky demanded.
Card Slinger repeated, "She wasn't a hit."
Dove raised an eyebrow. "How do youze know?" she asked flatly, no emotion left in her voice.
"Because," Slinger said, taking a deep breath, "I know all the hits in Manehatten. King ones, at least. An' lots o' the Mafia, too. Far as I know, she didn't have one on her. No reason ta. She was jus' unlucky."
"Like dat matters," Dove spat, scrunching up her snout. "What do youze care anyway, asshole?"
Toss looked uneasily towards her. "Dove..."
"Yes, Lucky?"
Lucky Toss rubbed his neck and met her eyes. "Dove, Fenca was one o' ma best friends when I was a colt."
White Dove blinked.
"An' she was mine, too." Card Slinger laughed coldly. "Way back in the day, befo' all o' dis."
"What's 'dis'?" Rustla asked, trotting up to the desk.
Card Slinger grinned. "Madhoof, o' course."
Twin hearts in twin coats fell into twin stomachs, Babs Seed and Apple Bloom turning to each other.
"Oh, right..." Dove walked up to Babs Seed. "Youze fatha."
"He's not ma fatha!" Babs barked, tensing her muscles as she spun around to face the disgraced mare.
"He's not?" Slinger asked incredulously, everything he'd ever known grinding to a halt before him. A bit odd, he'd thought, for the rotten Orange King's own daughter to be out there in the land of annexation, but he'd seen stranger things...
"NO!" Babs stomped the floor with enough magnitude to shake the lamp on the desk. "Dat bastard is NOT ma fatha!"
"It's true," affirmed Apple Bloom, stepping in front of Babs Seed and glaring at Dove. "He ain't her dad! We found out who her real dad is, an' he ain't that flankhole!"
One officer and two recent retirees shot stares to Card Slinger.
"Well," Slinger mumbled, the gray tomb spinning around him, "I guess I was wrong.
"Youze ain't the daughta o' a devil."
WHACK!
Spitting blood before he understood why, Card Slinger weakly met Babs Seed's piercing glare. Pulling him forward by his mane, she hissed through her teeth and warned, "Neva, eva, EVA refer ta Madhoof as ma fatha 'gain, got it?!"
Swallowing, Slinger nodded.
"Good." Babs threw him back into the chair, then turned around. "Now, then. Dove..."
Dove looked up, meeting Babs Seed's gaze.
"I don't forgive youze, but... I'm sorry fo' what happened ta youze."
"Yea. Um, Ah really don't forgive ya, either," said Apple Bloom, stern and honest, "but Ah appreciate ya tryin'."
White Dove nodded, mustering a weak smile.
"Alright... uh..." Rubbing his temples, Lucky Toss mumbled, "Dis sure is a mess, ain't it?"
Rustler agreed, "Sure is. Uh... well... Iffa youze four ain't on the force anymo', I guess youze should leave. Right?"
"An' miss all the fun?" Throwing back his mane, Card Slinger laughed, shaking his binds a little as he did.
"What the buck are youze talkin' 'bout?!" Babs pulled herself up onto the desk and stared into him.
"Look," Card Slinger said, sweeping his gaze among the five, "I've got nothin' left ta lose. Iffa somepony in ma own gang don't kill me, one o' youze officas will."
"Not without a judge!" Rustla rolled his eyes. "Idiot."
Slinger smirked. "Some o' youze officas are in ma gang—"
"'Orange unda his tail.' Yeah, yeah, we get it, asshole." Dove snickered.
Slinger's grin grew wide. "Oh? Youze don't believe me?"
"'Course we don't!" Lucky snapped, smacking a forehoof against the desk.
"Let me ask youze dis," Slinger said slyly, his reptilian self emerging behind the pony visage. "Have youze eva seen Chief Brutus standin' up? Has he eva stood in front o' youze in line? Gone swimmin'? Gone dancin'? Knocked hooves?"
Dove, Lucky, and Rustler gagged. Babs and Apple Bloom shared a confused glance.
Dove exclaimed, "Hell no!"
"Neva gotten a look unda his tail, have youze?"
"Why would we?" Rustler snorted and clicked his tongue. "Not all o' us are buckin' perverts like youze," he said derisively, crossing his forehooves across his chest.
Slinger replied, "Maybe so, but most ponies don't mind standin' o' walkin' in front o' youze. Simple shit, ain't it? Does Brutus eva walk in front o' youze?"
Three hooves tapped three chins. It was an odd question. A stupid one.
And yet, the more they thought about it, the more credible it seemed.
"What are youze suggestin', Slinga?" Babs Seed turned to him, flattening her ears. "Are youze suggestin' the Chief o' Manehatten Police, the highest offica in dis twisted city, ex-Royal Guard from what I rememba, is... is a memba o' the black orange gang?"
Slinger chuckled.
"Ah don't see what's so damn funny, asshole."
"'Black orange gang'. Dat's a good one." Slinger laughed again.
"Well, iffa dat's not the name, what is it?" Dove asked, her patience growing thin. "An' how do youze know our Chief is in it?"
"We are King's Knights," Card Slinger answered, smiling wide enough to split his muzzle, "an' there are many o' us. Many in heeya, in youze department. Not jus' the Chief. But I have no mo' use fo' dat shit. I can show youze who dey all are, every last one. But dat really won't matta. Youze could hunt every single one down an' lock 'em up o' kill 'em, an' it won't matta. Things will still be as dey are."
"An' why is dat?" Babs demanded, staring into his soulless eyes.
"Because, Babs Seed," Card Slinger said, "iffa youze wanna change dis city, youze gotta sever the root."
~
Ponyville's clock-tower chimed 0800 as the first train from Appleloosa pulled sharply into the station, squealing its brakes. Its slumbering, sole passenger rolled out of his cab and onto the floor. He groaned and rubbed his head, slowly standing to his hooves as the sleepy-eyed train-guard called out, "Pulling into Ponyville Station! Please gather your belongings before leaving!"
Mumbling profanity, Braeburn stood up and slung his saddlebags over his back. He made his way out of the train, nearly stumbling over his hooves. When he emerged into the fresh morning mist, he yawned heavily, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. He'd forgotten how long eight hours could drag on. At least he'd made it, rather than oversleeping and missing his stop as he'd feared.
He pressed on through town as quickly as he could, fighting the Sandmare tugging at his eyelids. Sleep had come only after a long period of contemplating and rehearsing. Did Applejack really know what was going on in the West? Had she received any of the letters? Would she even be home? Perhaps she had gone to see the authorities herself. All of these worries and more went bump in Braeburn's night.
Yawning, he passed by a cherry stand and a carrot stand setting up in the middle of town square. His stomach rumbled, but he scolded it and trotted on. Breakfast would come later. For now, there was business to attend to.
Through the center of town to the outskirts, up the grassy knoll, towards Sweet Apple Acres strode Sheriff Braeburn, feeling vulnerable here in the shady twilight of his dreamscape. Maybe, he thought with another yawn, he was still asleep on the train after all. The landscape was picturesque enough to be of a dream. Rows and rows of apple trees heavy with fruit dotted his vision, their green leaves beginning to hint at fall. Shades of brown, yellow, red, and orange broke the monotony of green.
Following the path, Braeburn let his mind wander for the time being, becoming lost within. He was so engrossed in his own worries that he barely heard the call of his own name, over and over again, until—
SMACK!
"Aargh!"
Braeburn fell flat on his back, rubbing his forehead.
Above him stood Big Macintosh, pulling a cart full of empty baskets. He didn't even flinch from the contact, his mighty collar the guilty perpetrator of Braeburn's fall. "Ya alright, cuz?" he asked, offering a forehoof to pull Braeburn up.
Shaking the dust from his mane, Braeburn nodded weakly and accepted Big Mac's offer. Rising to his hooves, he shook himself awake and muttered, "Sorry 'bout that, Big Mac. Ah was jus' kinda—"
"Lost?"
"Yea." Forcing a smile, he looked up at his enormous cousin. "Ah guess so."
Big Mac grinned. "Been far too long, Braeburn."
"It sure has, Big Mac."
They shared a quick hug.
Adjusting his collar, Big Mac gestured towards the orchards. "Ah was jus' 'bout ta get a start on the harvestin' fer the mornin'. Ah would ask ya ta join me, but ya look plumb exhausted, Brae."
"Sure am," Braeburn said with a yawn. "Hate ta see ya off so quick, Cousin Mac, but is Applejack around?"
Big Mac nodded. "She's makin' breakfast inside, Brae. Why? Somethin' wrong?" he pressed, flicking his ears. Something didn't seem quite right to the wise stallion.
Shuffling on his hooves, Braeburn chuckled awkwardly and mused, "Well... can't say that somethin' ain't wrong."
"What happened?"
"Er, Ah hope ya don't mind, Mac, but... Ah really need ta talk ta Applejack 'bout that first," Braeburn said sheepishly, tearing away from his gaze.
Big Mac offered him another gentle smile. "Ah understand. Like Ah said, she should be in the farmhouse downstairs, makin' breakfast." Giving the ropes connected to his collar one final check for sturdiness, he added, "If ya need me, Brae, Ah'll be gettin' an early start on ta-day's work in the orchards. Stay a while, would ya?"
Braeburn tipped his Stetson. "Ah sure will, Big Mac."
Honest as an Apple, he had a feeling it was going to be a long stay.