So many worries, so many aggravations. So many things to look after and fawn over and knock my head against. What an idiot he was, what an absolute fool to think that he could do what he tried to do. Or perhaps he was the greatest genius of them all. For if he had not given himself up, then all of the Commander's army would lay either crushed beneath stone or trapped within the Turnabout Caverns. And perhaps his sacrifice will show the other tribes just how valiant Earth ponies are capable of being. Whatever the reasoning and whatever the outcome, I bless your soul, Joshua Puddinghead. Rest in peace, you magnificent bastard.
T'would appear that the army Sombra had the courtesy of showing us was simply the tip to his figurative iceberg of evil. In truth, his followers number into the tens of thousands, just as large as any standard army. The most frightening part of this whole ordeal is that many of them seem to be following him of their own accord. I feel that if we wish to topple this insurgency, we will have to strike at the foundation. One way or another, Sombra del Toro has to go.
Honeydew doesn't know this, but when I reached into her memories to find the lullaby, I. . . saw some things. Things that only fuel the flames of my fury. Now I wage this war for four: My sweetie Clover, dearest Platinum, darling Honeydew, and my beloved Rain. If only they could all know just how brightly the anger in my heart burns at the thought of their pain. I hope Clover and Platinum never have to know what Honeydew has known.