Only the worst ones get taken to the cave.
Theives get killed relatively quickly, kids who are simply in the wrong place at the wrong time are made a quick example of in the streets, and so on.
However, the ones that take advantage of the weakest, the youngest, the ones that deliberately and directly do harm to those undeserving . . . they go spelunking.
This equine creature is the one who runs the biggest underground meat business for gryphons.
Pony meat, to be exact.
She gets her victims from all over; the slums of Manehattan, the sewers of Canterlot, sometimes even from small villages.
She herself, however, lives in Fillydelphia.
Wait.
Attatch past tenses to everything just said.
The creature pulled the gag away. Then he cocked his head.
Usually, they whimper or cry or scream or start asking questions. This one was silent. She quivered and kept her eyes averted, as if her being as still as possible would keep her safe.
This was not the case, of course.
It shrugged and grabbed the ropes binding her and brought her out from the darkness, dragging her through the uncomfortable shards of stone. Then, it dropped her and began pacing. The second simply watched from the shadows, still.
The first then halted, dug around in its coat, and withdrew a newspaper and tossed it near the mare on the sloped ground.
Effective communication for a thing that does not speak.
The mare craned her head to see, and read the headline:
SEVENTH PONY THIS YEAR VANISHED—THE ALIEN IS TO BLAME!
She looked at the image of the mentioned pony, and knew that the creatures imprisoning her were not the ones responsible.
Tears began to flow again.
What use was begging? She knew of these creatures, and she knew where she was. She thought she was safe, thought she was careful and clever, covert enough to avoid them.
Of course, what remained of her bodyguards back in Canterlot told the truth.
As the mare began to accept her fate, she stopped her mental blubbering as she saw the second, less mad alien fade into the darkness.
She did not like that one bit.
The first alien circled around and did its oddly adorable head-cocking again.
The mare worked her bottom jaw.
Just do it, she thought.
Suddenly, the first alien squatted down, startling the mare. Then, with a leather-clad appendage, it began tracing its fingers around her; circling her ears, going up and down her belly and her abdomen, tracing the muscles in her legs. It ended between her eyes.
Something behind the alien was moving in the shadows, dragging in the shale.
The alien stood and went behind her, vanishing.
The second alien came into view once more, pushing . . . a crate.
The pony's eyes widened, and she felt her stomach sink.
That crate . . . it was from the western storehouses; the ones that dealt with the Gryphon Empire . . . the sort of crate she shipped her meat in.
The mare whimpered.
She felt a tapping on her shoulder. She craned her neck again and eyed upwards.
The silhouette of the alien, the moon in the hole of the roof above her, appeared. It held an odd device, with a cord and a handle and buttons. The mare did, however, recognize on part of it, a metal sawblade concealed behind a plastic shield.
The mare held her breath when she heard the alien begin to cackle. Then, firmly, it drew back the plastic shield and the blade came to live in loud, grating awakening. The second alien appeared, twirling a billyclub.
Then she screamed.
- - -
Ponies didn't know what to think.
Many were terrified, many were disturbed, many were happy, and a surprising number were relatively indifferent.
An alien had come to Equestria, and it was delevering its own form of justice to those it deemed necessary.
Of course, it was doing it with, well, "extreme prejudice," and without the law of trial that was guaranteed every Equestrian.
So again: mixed feelings.
The Princesses, however, knew it had to be stopped.
It meant well, it seemed, but its mere presence . . . it was doing a number on the very walls of reality. Things were beginning to leak through that not even Twilight's books knew the answer to.
At least, not any of the books that she had.
"Bag are packed, Twilight," Spike said, tired, "We'll be there in a few hours, just so long as we get on now."
Twilight was uncomfortable with the entire situation. She hadn't been permitted to tell her firneds, let alone bring them. However, the library of the Crystal Kingdom held some rather . . . old tomes. She had to check the knowledge hidden there.
"Now," Spike said. "Please?"
"All right," Twilight said. "I'm just not feeling very well about this whole thing."
"None of us are. But the quicker we solve this, the quicker we can catch the thing and lock it away. And so: let's go. Please."
Twilight nodded and looked back a minute at the palace she was leaving behind. Then, with a sigh, she borded the train and set of North.
- - -
Lyra's eyes were wide. Her gut was in turmoil.
She was perched outside the cave, on a ledge, peering down at the mouth across a small clearing.
And she heard everything.
Buzzes, clicks, thuds, screams . . . it all echoed into the night sky.
And yet, despite it all, she was still there.
The sort of lust to see the aliens more that possessed her was disturbing. She wondered if it had something to do with the aliens and their being there. They couldn't be healthy for the natural way of things, she knew.
But she remained. Listening, watching. She simply desire to know more.
Of course, all she had to do was remain careful, and she wouldn't violate any privacies or cultures and thus activate and alien rage. . .
right? . . .