//------------------------------// // The Devil Wears Nada (Suited For Success) // Story: Scootaloo Dies a Bunch // by alexmagnet //------------------------------// Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were walking towards Carousel Boutique when they saw a large crowd had gathered in front of the shop. Nodding towards it, Scootaloo glanced over at Sweetie Belle, her eyebrow raised. “What’s going on over there?” she asked. Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Beats me. Rarity doesn’t usually get this many customers.” “Yeah, I’ve always wondered about that,” Scootaloo said, suddenly thoughtful. “She’s clearly still in business, but I’ve never seen a single pony buy anything from her… like, ever.” “Rarity is, well.” Sweetie Belle paused, bringing a hoof to her chin. “What’s the word? Hmm, let’s just say that selling dresses isn’t her only means of making money.” “Whoa,” Scootaloo breathed. “I didn’t know she was a, y’know…” Sweetie Belle gave Scootaloo a weird look, then laughed. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. Anyway, let’s go see what’s going on.” She took Scootaloo by the hoof and led her towards the crowd, which, even as they approached, was growing in size by the minute. Working their way into the mass, and ever closer to the front, Sweetie Belle muttered something under her breath. “What was that?” asked Scootaloo, trying to keep up with Sweetie Belle as she dove further into the crowd. “Huh? Oh, nothing. It was just—” “You get a dress! You get a dress! You get a dress! Everypony gets a dress!” shouted Rarity from the pulpit she was standing on, a crazed look in her eye as she twirled around, throwing spools of thread left and right. Scootaloo squeezed past a particularly fat pony, and popped out next to Sweetie Belle. “Uhh, so what’s she doing?” Sweetie Belle just shook her head. “Guess Rarity’s having one of her episodes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’ll just come back later. She’s gonna need more than a bit of blood for this one it looks like.” “A bit of blood?” “Don’t worry about it,” said Sweetie Belle, patting Scootaloo reassuringly on the head. “You’ll see.” “Rarity!” Sweetie Belle called, throwing open the door to Carousel Boutique and strolling inside like she was the sister of the pony who owned the place, which, incidentally, she was. “I brought Scootaloo with me for you know what.” “You know what?” asked Scootaloo as she followed Sweetie Belle inside. Scootaloo didn’t have her question answered, at least not right then, because at that moment Rarity waltzed into the room, an absurdly large hat perched precariously atop her head, and a long, flowing dress trailing behind her. The garb, macabre though it was, being all black and trimmed with lace, was rather comical to Scootaloo who thought Rarity looked more ridiculous than she usually did. “Ah! You’re just in time,” said Rarity, quickly scurrying across the room, her outfit snagging on something more than once. “Did you bring everything?” Sweetie Belle nodded, producing a series of items from her bag. “Let’s see, I’ve got a bed of fire ants, three snake skulls, two liters of shark’s milk, a pile of dried leaves, and, oh yeah, this week-old crow,” she said, pulling out a dead crow by its legs. Rarity pranced about on her hooves. “Lovely. And did you bring the things for the ritual as well?” “Mhmm,” Sweetie replied, extracting rag from her pack. “Excellent. You can put those other things aside for now. I’ll make my dinner later.” Rarity approached Scootaloo, placing her hoof on her head, seeming to measure something with a careful eye. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely.” Scootaloo glanced around awkwardly. “Uhh, so, kinda starting to worry a bit. What’s the rag for?” Rarity chuckled, picking up the slightly damp piece of cloth. “Oh, it’s just for—” She lunged suddenly at Scootaloo, holding the cloth over her mouth. Within seconds, Scootaloo’s world went dark, and she fell unconscious. When she woke next, she was strapped to a wooden structure, suspended over a pit of lava in what looked like Rarity’s basement. Still groggy from whatever was in the rag, Scootaloo watched Rarity and Sweetie Belle approach her. “Wha’s… wha’s happenin’?” she asked sleepily. Rarity waved her hoof dismissively. “Oh, it’s just a little thing I do every so often. See, it’s not easy making all these dresses all the time for no profit. Sometimes I have to enlist a bit of… outside help.” Scootaloo merely lolled her head to the side in response. “Well anyway,” continued Rarity, “long story short, I made a pact with the blood god Xochiquétzal, and I just need to offer a sacrifice every 52 weeks to keep my unnatural talent. It’s a pretty good deal, actually.” At the mention of ‘sacrifice’, Scootaloo’s ears perked up, and she forced herself into wakefulness. “Why me, though?” Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Apparently you can’t die, soooooooo…” “It still freakin’ hurts!” “Nonsense,” said Rarity with a light-hearted chuckle. “You won’t feel a thing. I promise it’ll be quick and painless. Now then, let’s get started.” She glanced down at Sweetie Belle, giving her a nod. Sweetie Belle nodded back, and the two sisters approached Scootaloo while she struggled against her bindings. As they got closer, they began to chant in unison. “Kaaaaaaliiiii Ma. Kaaaaaaliiiii Ma.” Scootaloo groaned. “Ugh… This again.” A second later, Rarity was reaching her hoof out, pressing it against Scootaloo’s breast, chanting louder and louder until she’d finally pushed her hoof through the filly’s chest and grasped hold of her heart. Pulling the still beating organ from Scootaloo, Rarity held it up, watching the ventricles pump fruitlessly before she tossed it into the fire where it exploded into flame. Then, wiping her hooves off, she turned on the lights, removed her ritualistic outfit, and nodded, pleased. “Safe for another year,” she said happily.