As Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were discovering the arguably 'angelic' powers of the rift in time and space, not far away a pair of large eyes was watching them. The large eyes belonged to a previously introduced creature of diminutive stature, who seemed more than amused that the big yellow horse was yelling at the two smaller ones. It warmed his heart to see such disorder.
But he couldn't stick around forever, especially considering the two smaller ones had come so close to catching him. So off he went into the dark forest, though it wasn't hardly dark at all for a creature equipped with heightened senses and night vision. Sure, a few frightening, twisting creatures of indescribable origin snapped their jaws at him, but were easily evaded.
627 eventually emerged from the forest near a large field covered in apple trees, the fruit supply of which he managed to put quite a dent into before his appetite was satisfied. No creature seemed to be home at the moment, and he was quite stealthy in climbing up the walls and peering in all the windows from the outside. The small yellow horse had chased him from here, and the place reeked of equine musk. But it was empty.
It would be a perfect point of origin for a display of mass destruction, and 627 wasted little time in spitting generous amounts of acid around the interior of the barn. Floor, walls, ceiling, loft. No place was safe. Few knew that aliens of his design could spit acid, fewer still knew that it was highly flammable. And with the barn covered in straw as it was, the result of setting it alight would be... delightful.
The small alien cackled, rubbing his palms together. Slowly at first, then faster and faster at impossible speeds. After a few moments, wispy trails of smoke drifted from his rapidly rubbing paws, It took sincere effort to create so much as a spark, but destruction was worth the time he was putting into it. A few failed attempts did manage to get on his bad side, although it only took one spark to fall upon the blades of straw, which the alien quickly set to blowing upon. Smoke first, then a single lick of flame, and a wide grin spread across his face.
Oh yes.
The small lick of flame soon turned into a series of small licks of flames, which spread rapidly as they were fueled by dry straw and the pools of acidic waste. They soon consumed the barn, and in turn consumed the house, then the fields, then the trees...
Wait. Where was the consume? There was supposed to be a barn-burning consume!
627 snapped back to attention, finding to his great rage that the great fire had been stopped in its infancy by a small blue creature very much like himself.
"You. Stop." The blue one bared his teeth.
627 had no intention of stopping. "Broken," he snarled back, referring in part to the barn, in part to the matriarchal society in general, and in part to the family of country horses that couldn't catch him.
"Broken, yes," his counterpart said. "But good. Yeah, still good."
627 charged 626, and the two crashed through the back wall of the barn and into the field. Fangs bared and claws raised, it was the beginning of a battle the likes of which Ponyville had never seen, and indeed would never see again. Red picked up a nearby plow from its resting place in the ground and swung it, smacking 626 with devastating force and driving him into the ground. 626 shook his head in mild irritation and charged forward, seizing 626 by the ears, and tossing him in the air.
"Play ball!" Stitch announced, before striking 627 with a forging hammer and hitting him with such force that the red alien plowed right through the middle of an apple tree, leaving a hole through the center of it. The tree remained upright, somehow.
627 was not amused by this, and lay dazed for a moment or two on the ground where he'd landed, trying in vain to snatch and crush the small yellow birds circling around his head. He rose to his paws and shook himself off, raising his claws in anger.
626 was not about to be beaten in his own fight, and raced around the side of the barn, knowing that his crimson cousin would not be far behind. Stitch raced into the house, swinging the back door open with such force that it flew off its hinges completely and landed in the dirt. He grabbed the kitchen table and propped it up against the now vacant doorway, before running towards the front door.
627 was waiting for him there, having gone around to the front in the first place. Stitch turned and leaped onto the counter of the formerly clean and tidy farmhouse kitchen, utensils and pans clanging to the floor. 627 leaped up after him, and pulled a knife.
"Destroy!" 627 announced
"En garde," Stitch said, wielding a large metal spoon of his own. And then they parried. Up, down, up, down, down, down, up, down, up. Moving back and forth across the top of the counter. Stitch frowned and looked for a moment behind 627, seeming concerned. 627 turned to look, and was promptly bashed off the counter with a frying pan.
Stitch leaped down, hurling 627 through the kitchen table and leaping through the doorway, where the red alien was already on his feet. Both were battered and breathing heavily, but not about to quit.
"You bad," he said to Stitch, his vocabulary extremely limited.
"Not bad," Stitch replied. "Just drawn that way."
627 charged forward, and 626 charged forward. The two aliens met each other in a violent flurry of swinging appendages and tearing claws, rolling in a cloud of dust across the field and down the hill. Their descent was stopped only by the normally serene pond at the bottom, crashing into the water with a splash that would have rivaled most aquatic-centric theme parks.
The surface of the pond bubbled for a few minutes.
Eventually, the bubbling stopped.
Eventually, a few crickets dared to chirp again and the birds joined in with their own chorus.
Eventually, the dust settled around the field of destruction that had moments ago been a lovely kitchen filled with memories.
And then everything was still.