EpEX2
THE ONE WHO EXECUTES
A calm, steady rain fills the air. At least, I think it’s rain. Kinda hard to tell given my surroundings.
Nothing but wide open space before and all around me, pretty much dark except for a few red lights. They’re hung up like streetlamps, but I can’t make out the lamp part from where I am. No surprise, as the light deepens whatever darkness it doesn’t cover. There’s enough of it to make out the slick wet ground at my feet, though, as well as the droplets of precipitation coming down. Can’t tell whether it’s actual rain or some indoor shower, hence my uncertainty in what to call it. But for simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with rain.
I walk forward in this soggy place, listening to the gentle patter of water droplets making landfall. An otherworldly and calming allure, but I maintain focus. Can’t let my mind drift when danger could be waiting amidst the murk.
“You appear to be lost.”
And wouldn’t you know, here’s some rearing its ugly head (albeit in a nonchalant fashion). Out from the edges of darkness strolls in this upstanding figure. As it enters the light I see it (or rather “him”) more clearly. Two legs, two arms, moderate build, ape-like in appearance (can’t see a tail). He’s wearing a suit much like my own… only with pants. All black, including the tie covering the middle of his white undershirt. Rather nice in the face department, bearing a look of someone who can handle themselves in any tight spot, hardened by constant struggle or facing some pretty weird shit (sorta ruined by the glasses, though). Not to mention that slick hairdo.
Come to think of it, his whole being seems rather… slick, in general. Probably because of the piss-poor lighting, but it’s like his body is glazed in some unnatural sheen, like he was dipped in skin cream or butter. Makes him shine in a weird way, and the shadows on his body more stark.
That’s not the only thing odd about him. My gaze shifts to his side, and I find his left arm isn’t like the other. It appears segmented, covered in metal and too bulky to conceal in a shirt sleeve. I also can’t help notice little bumps around where it connects to the shoulder, kinda like growths. Not the first time I’ve seen freaky plant fusions, but never with metal. The kooky sheath dangling on the side of his belt is an all too familiar sight, though.
The whole time I’ve been eyeing him up and making descriptions for our benefit, the stranger has stopped a few yards from me, with legs apart, hands of flesh and metal on his elbows. As though waiting for a respon—oh, right…
“Are you merely lost for direction, or is it your thoughts you’re wandering around in?” he asks before I get a chance to reply. His tone is somewhat gravelly, straightforward, but with a bit of smug to his words. Figure I may as well respond in kind (like I always do, sans gravel).
“Just having a pleasant stroll, enjoying the scenery.” I hold out my arms, gathering more rain before dropping them and looking at my inquisitor. “Is there a problem with that?”
He huffs and cocks his head to the side. “A stroll without direction is an invitation for danger. You’re clearly seeking trouble.”
“I often make that sort of impression.” I raise my chin a bit. “What about you? Are you looking for trouble?”
“In a way.” He drops his arms, assuming a more serious stance. “I’m looking for a very dangerous individual. Someone with a penchant for violence, who’s carved a legacy in blood and fear for the sake of their superior.”
“That does sound like trouble.” Tensing up, I start pacing to the side without averting my eyes. “And what would be the motivation for hunting down such an individual?”
“Nothing personal, I assure you.” He starts pacing in the direction opposite mine, keeping his eyes locked on me as well. “There are clients who seek help in handling the cruelties and chaos imparted by the world. It’s my job to bring them peace of mind and restore a bit of order, while also making commission, of course.”
“Lucky you. Most I get with my occupation could be generously considered an allowance.”
“Though money matters little when you spend it right away. Cost of living, as it where. Among other expenses.”
“True that.” We have nearly walked a full circle around each other, unmindful of the rain. “This may be a dumb thing to ask, but what exactly do you do when you find these unsavory fellows?”
A hint of a smile. “Simple: I ensure they don’t cause further trouble for the client.” He stops walking. “All with deadly precision.”
There’s a pause between us that’s filled with the pattering of constant rain. I’ve come to a stop, too, looking squarely at him. I crack a smile.
“Sounds an awful lot like my line of work.” I tilt my head. “Don’t suppose you know what your target looks like.”
“Hmph. Wouldn’t be much of a professional if I didn’t have some clue.” He brought up his metal hand to adjust his glasses. “Barely an adult, well-dressed, a bit on the short side, bears an imposing if unusual appearance. Pretty blunt in speech, but prone to making a snarky remark or two.” He tilts his eyewear down, allowing his striking red pupils to show over the lenses. “And also goes by the name of Spike.”
Figures as much.
“Funny. That just so happens to be my name.” A twist and a few flicks of the wrist and my sword’s unsheathed and at my side, with hardly a raindrop hitting the blade. “Guess you found what you were looking for.”
“Indeed.” He calmly removes and puts away his glasses. “Though I gotta hand it to ya: most of my past marks would have gone into some long-winded tangent about darkness or some nonsense.”
“I’m not real big on speeches.”
“An attitude we share, which makes it ironic that I’ve been doing most of the talking. Almost makes me wonder...” Slowly he reaches down to the hilt at his hip with his right hand, then unsheathes it and brings it to his side with the same slowness. It’s a pretty wicked-looking katana (and just as “slick”). “With that said, I say we best cut to the chase.”
“Fine by me.” I space out my legs. “Just so you know, you’re not the first assassin I’ve tangled with.”
He shrugs. “That’s of no concern. I’m no ordinary killer, and I’m pretty certain you’ve never faced someone like me before.”
“Yeah, you got that right.” Bend my knees a bit. “Ready when you are, pal.”
“Very well. The job…” He pauses to slick back his hair with those metal fingers. “KILLER IS DEAD.”
Dead silence falls between us, with the rain filling in the gaps. I’m at a loss for words. But only momentarily.
“Dude… what the fuck was that?”
Just closes his eyes and grins, then launches himself forward. That speed burst actually surprises me, but I shake it off and get my ass in gear. We rush headlong at each other, and it’s seconds before we raise our arms and bring our blades to cross. The connection brings both of us to a dead halt, filling the air with a sharp clang. This guy’s got a hell of a grip; it’s like pressing against a steel wall. His arm’s shaking as much as mine, though. No more time to gauge further weaknesses as we simultaneously pull back and get into proper swordplay.
Shuffle a few steps left with my sword up, then make a first strike before he gets a chance. Manages to block it, as well as the split-second follow-up swipe. He’s damn quick. A few more blocked swipes, then I decide to sidestep and get him from a different angle. He manages to raise up his sword to block my overhead, but I decide to follow-up with another one, break his guard.
Right as my blade edge is about to touch his, I feel my body freeze up and the sense that time’s slowing down. Suddenly the guy vanishes as a red tinge fills my sight, then a split second later there’s the sound of grunting and swords swipes as I’m bombarded from the side. I feel close to a dozen slashes land before I manage to bring around my sword and push away from the assaulting blade.
I stumble as all kinds of pinpricks flare up on my body. My right arm, leg, and half my chest are covered in nicks and cuts, ranging from small to moderate (pretty sure he nicked one of my frills as well). I feel a new dampness arise from those spots, no doubt blood. First blood of the battle and it’s mine; real sloppy, Spike.
“You need to focus on where you swing,” he taunts. “Being reckless with your attacks will get you nowhere.”
Bloody hell, getting a sword fighting lecture during a sword fight. Really can’t stand for that crap, even when it’s from Pinkie or Zecora (though the lack of rhyming is a mercy). Much as it irks me, though, I take a deep breath and get back into the fray.
Not sure what the hell happened there or what he pulled off exactly, but I best hold back and go on the defensive until I figure him out. He makes a few steps to the side, and seeing no reaction from me, he picks up the slack and rushes me. I keep loose and meet each of his blows from every angle. His swipes are quick, precise, and seemingly tireless as they hit with the same exact force each time.
For a skinny guy he’s relentless, and it’s annoying. Luckily I have something to give me some breathing space. All this blocking has shaken me up, got the blood flowing. With the next successive hits I let myself vibrate more, getting some of my essence to spray up to join the rain. Intermingled with the precipitation, I belch out a green flame that ignites the droplets. Pretty sizable fire burst erupts between us, breaking our line of contact and stopping the attacks.
When the fire and smoke clears, he’s backed away with arms held out to the sides, the fringes of his suit smoking slightly. He eases up and pats his suit with his free hand.
“Pretty neat trick there. That actually surprised me.”
I shrug. “I’m just full of ‘em.”
A scoff. “Don’t expect it to happen again.”
With that he comes at me again, going into the same routine of repeating sword blows. I can’t risk doing the old smoke trick again; may as well give some of my own hits for the hell of it. Soon we’re back to where we started, trading blows and blocks without giving an inch, only I hone more of my senses, see if he’s gonna pull that one trick. Sure enough, near the end of an upward swing the same slowing sensation and flare of red occurs. Only I’m ready. I sense movement, to the left.
I twist around with sword raised, immediately catching his own as color and time return to normal. His face tenses up from this response, but it doesn’t last as I deliver a mean left hook right at his mug. I catch his shiny cheek square on, and he stumbles back while flailing out his arms. It doesn’t take long for him to recover and resume his hardened pose, the only difference being the metal hand nursing his sore cheek. I grin.
“Expecting the same result?”
He grins as well, and then we’re right back to it. As we’re exchanging blocks and parries, he starts talking.
“You’re holding up well now. Guess you took my advice to heart.” All calm, like this wasn’t some duel to the death.
“Just needed to warm up, is all. This rain is pretty soothing.” Certainly not the first time I’ve had a mid-battle chit-chat.
“You shouldn’t be so callous in the heat of battle. Even if you are a skilled killer, overconfidence can easily undo you.” Clang clang clang.
“I’m confident because I can afford to be.” Clang. “I’ve faced a lot, and I’m pretty good at protecting myself.”
“Is that a fact?”
Right after he says that, I feel my blade come to a halt against his metal palm. He grips it tight, keeping me in place as he rears back and slams his head into mine. Holy frickin’ crap it’s like granite! My teeth chatter as I stumble back on wobbly legs, seeing spots. I manage to snap through the daze quick enough to bring up my sword to block the impending deathblow, resulting in me taking another rough step back. He resumes the chat as we resume the swordplay.
“None too keen on the unconventionals, it seems.”
As the sparks fly, I can’t help but sneer. “I’ll give ya unconventional.”
I pound my blade onto his, seizing him in place. Then I twist my body and whip my tail around at his shimmery head. His metal hand snags it lightning quick, but before I give him a chance to do something with it I twist back around, taking him along for the ride. He slams with a heavy splash into the the ground on his side, and I don’t give him a break as I bring my sword to bear. That crazy quickness saves him yet again, though, as he rolls sideways from my blade, only to spring into a rising crescent slash that nearly catches my snout.
He lands in a crouch, but instantly stands back up and flicks out his sword, which is now radiating some kind of blue aura (WTF?).
“I deal with all kinds of weirdos,” I tell him, paying no mind to his new piece of flair. “Gotta think on my toes and get creative.”
“Hmph, I can relate. Though you’re a good deal more normal than my usual targets.”
“And you’re certainly no chainsaw-wielding granny.”
He twirls around his glowing katana and brings it up next to his head. “No more holding back, then?”
I nod as I raise my own weapon. “No more holding back.”
We let the rain fall undisturbed a moment, then we charge. We run at each other like earlier, only we make a passing slash instead of stopping. Our respective metals clang as we pass each other, followed by two sprays of water as we turn around for another pass. Our swords collide again, but we both run side by side in the same direction, slashing away at each other. After a few yards I make a cut for his legs, but he leaps and flips high up and over me, landing to my left with his back turned and both hands gripping his katana hilt. His arms rise then thrust backwards, and I’m barely quick enough to bend my body to avoid getting skewered.
I swing and knock aside his sword, and lay on him with some more slashes. Each one of them get blocked, so I try to sweep out his legs with my tail. He hops up, but during my spin I grip my sword and throw up a nasty upward diagonal slash. It catches the guy’s fleshy arm as he’s coming down, knocking him onto his back. He springs back onto his feet and comes at me with barely a pause.
I raise my sword in defense, blocking two overhead blows. Instead of a third hit, he pulls back his metal fist and launches a punch at my blade. There’s a metallic bang as I reel from the insanely strong blow, my arms spreading wide to steady myself. Big mistake, as the guy takes it upon himself to deliver a slash right at my exposed chest. I grimace from feeling both suit and scales give way in a neat line, making me collapse onto a knee. I get in one deep breath then look up, spotting Mr. Slickback dropping in from above with katana primed to plunge into my skull.
I muster enough sense to throw myself back before he lands, yet the resulting shockwave is ridiculous, tossing me back even further on my ass while also sending a deluge all over me. On my back, I’m completely drenched. Mostly in water, but there’s a bit of blood mixed in. I scramble so that I’m elevated, though only on one foot. He’s just standing there all high and mighty, hardly a scratch on him. About time to change that; time to cut loose.
With my free palm I rub my fresh chest wound, then slather the red goodness onto my blade. Quick enchantment, a light flame and I swipe out a Jade Slicer. He brings his sword vertical to take the brunt of the blast, which dissipates and sends him sliding back through the water. Quickly I get up on my feet and swing out some more Slicers and even a few Sliders that sizzle through the shallows, never giving him a chance to act or even breathe. He dodges the flames or blocks the ones he can’t sidestep, but seeing how much he’s being pushed back each time, I know he can’t last long. After three successive Sliders I whip around my sword and do a Malachite Piston from behind, launching me ahead. The Sliders are dispersed in time for him to get a good look of me flying at him with sword held forward, aimed right at him. Quickness won’t be getting him out of this one, as the blade tip and several inches go right into the fleshy part of his left shoulder.
We go forward about a dozen yards stuck like that before momentum releases him from my metal and has him tumbling ungracefully along the ground. The tables are turned now: me standing and looking smug, and him getting up on a knee and totally soaked. I hear a heavy breath; I’m wearing him down. Probably a mistake that I let him stand back up.
“That was a neat set of tricks. But two can play at that game.” (Oh boy…)
Definitely a mistake, seeing how he’s bringing his metal arm to bear as a clacking and whirring fills the air. Next thing I know he’s got some misshapen barrel pointed at me, which immediately starts firing some crackling orange shots. My sword goes up to catch the rounds, making them ping off harmlessly, but at the rate they’re coming they’ll eventually push through. I break into a side run to outrun the barrage, bringing up my sword to deflect whatever shots get close to me. There’s a break in the fire, only to be replaced by a growing whir that could only mean energy build-up. Sure enough, a glance shows his arm cannon bulging with yellow light, which gets blasted right at me.
I manage to outpace the energy ball, but it hits the ground behind me hard enough that I end up tripping, getting another faceful of water. Sputter out the liquids as I get back up, yet turning my head my jaw drops as I see that suit-wearing swordsman flash-stepping up to within two yards of me, whereupon he jumps up and—I kid you not—pulls back and levels a massive frickin’ drill down at me. The sheer absurdity of what he’s got whirring on his arm seems to freeze things for a moment, which works for me as it lets me push my sorry self away from being eviscerated in the messiest way possible.
This is all getting way out of hand, I think as I scramble up off the moist surfacing. I’ve let things get weird too quickly; gotta end this now. I run a claw down my sword arm and shake it to get the flow going, and set it ablaze with an Emerald Lancer. I don’t give him time to react as I dash ahead and lay on him with flaming swipes and cuts. He blocks them but I don’t relent. See how he likes a taste of his own medicine.
Put in a dozen more strikes; his coat sleeve is starting to burn, and I can see sweat on his face (or more rain, whatever). With a sidelong swipe I set off a Slicer at point-blank, which gives a nasty bit of hot recoil on my part, not to mention splash damage (heh). But he has it worse from the looks of it, judging by the strips of burning fabric flitting about in the wake of his pushback. Time for the killing blow.
I grip my right arm and give it a squeeze, feeding more of my life essence into the fire. It grows and grows until it’s practically bonfire level. With some chanting I redirect it backward up my arm and toward my shoulder, drawing more blood from the various wounds along the way. At the shoulder, it spreads past my neck to the other side, and in a second I’ve got a nice set of fiery plumage coming from my back. The guy illuminates from the extra light, but he’s looking impassive, like he’s not impressed. Meh, your funeral, bub. Probably overkill, but I’m done taking chances.
Just to be on the safe side I launch out a few more Slicers and Sliders to keep him occupied and unwary of the disaster I’m about to bring. With him getting hit by swathes of curved flames, I fire up the Chartreuse Phoenix and take aim with my sword. Leveled, locked on, launch.
I tear over the water as a comet of death, and inevitably I make sweet destructive impact with that sorry stylin’ sod. There’s a massive blast and kinetic wave that blows away all the rain, leaving me standing in dryness for a few seconds. Yet… I’m not alone. In fact, I appear to have come to a complete standstill against something solid. Like a… oh holy crap.
Before me is some messed up amalgamation of machinery and white light, almost like a nightmare rendition of those pretentious modern art statues. My jaw drops at seeing half the guy’s face on this abomination—looking as dead focused as always—past the upraised katana that’s the cause for my sudden stop. I grit my teeth and try to get past him, but I barely start when he flings up his sword arm and tosses me back effortlessly.
Splash I go once again, feeling even more weary than before. I still force myself up and brace my sword before me, as tiring as it’s become. Me and the metal man facing off, not budging an inch, though in my case I’m huffing up a storm. That god-awful red lighting looks to be fading. Maybe the first sign of wavering vision; definitely not good.
He raises his arm and brings down his sword, but instead of an attack, there’s a flash of white and he’s back to his sharp-dressed, fleshy attire (save for that arm). Same stoic stance, only his eyes seem to appraising me. Seeing my sorry condition, probably listing up things to mock me during my death throes. After some moments, the silence breaks.
“The way you fight when you’re backed into a corner: that drive and focus, that determination to stay alive.”
“Yeah? What about it?”
“There’s more than just duty at stake when you do battle. It’s more than mere obligation, or even enjoyment whenever you wield that blade.” He lowers his guard and looks straight dead at me with those blazing red eyes. “You’re protecting someone, with all that you have.”
A pause, made more intense by the soft rain that’s gradually lessening for some reason. Feeling very tired, but I have to keep it together. Need to get out of here.
“...Yeah. That’s the way it is.”
He looks to the emptiness above. “A beacon that shines in the darkness, guiding you from complete annihilation.” A look to the side. “She really means that much to you.” (Whuh..?)
“Absolutely.” (Why’d I answer?)
“You’ve faced a lot, I can tell. Overcame things that no one in your position has a right to. I’ve been there. Yet for all your killing, all the misery you’ve imparted, you think you’re capable of defending someone you care for? More than that, that you can save them from the very same darkness that consumes the likes of us?”
No change in his tone, but the gravity in his words are undeniable. Straight from the heart; that moment where the toughest of fighters bare their inner wisdom. So many times I’ve been on the receiving end of these things. Some with valid points, most of them utter bull. But these particular words, now of all times, they’re coming by as especially personal. Must really be the blood loss.
“An executioner such as you,” he continues. “Will you forsake yourself even further, if need be, just to keep her safe?”
“...More than anything.”
A huff. “Then you might wanna pray it doesn’t come to that.” With that, he sheathes his katana with a clack, seemingly putting a stop to the shower. This raises some confusion, as you’d imagine.
“Uhhh, what?”
“I say she’s in good hands. You continue protecting her.”
“But, what about the whole tracking down and target thing?”
“That? Well to be honest with you, my agency has no jurisdiction in this place. Meaning there’d be no government approval, even if someone actually put a hit on you with us. Basically, I’m out here on a leisure trip.”
“Come again?” No way…
“Just curious to see the guy that’s been flaunting my style. And I gotta say, you’re fairly good.”
Oh goddammit, don’t tell me this was one of those bullshit “tests” sprung up at random by total strangers. Complete and utter wastes of time; one of the sorts of patronizing bull that piss me off the most. Maybe when I was more wet behind the ears (not literally) that’d be fine and expected, but at this point? Give me a flippin’ break!
“Now don’t feel too bad about all this,” he blabbers on. “Any struggle is worthwhile if it’s to uphold the sanctity of a beautiful woman.”
Huh? “What are you going on about?”
He just chuckles while slicking his hair with that metal hand. “You’ll come to understand what it means to fight with all your passion in battle. For now, though, take comfort in the fact that you’re doing alright for yourself. But remember that you can still go astray on this darkened path. Should you lose yourself then, destruction will shortly follow. Guaranteed.”
As he says this, I spot some weird mirages or shadows or something appearing behind him. One’s dressed up the same as the guy, only with average looks and carrying a silver attache case. Another is also carrying a case, only it’s dark along with his skin, a contrast to his glaring white suit. The other one’s… interestingly dressed to say the least, and having orange-tinted shades and some spiked-up hairdo. Kinda foreboding, but I don’t know what to make of it. The guy doesn’t seem to notice and keeps speaking (suppose it’s a bit late to ask for his name).
“Just keep your skills honed, tone down the recklessness, and you should be good. For the both of you. Just keep in mind that danger has a way of popping up, even in the best of times.”
He starts to turn, but stops and looks back at me.
“One more piece of advice: make sure to embrace your past, because there’s no way to truly kill it.” He raises up his left arm, made whole again, wrapped in a simmering purple flame. “You may succeed in forgetting, but it always finds a way back in. Usually at the worst possible time.”
“Spike? Spiiike?”
Eyes slowly open, my entire being feeling incredibly relaxed and rested. A curved ceiling overhead, and sunlight streaming from the window to my left, as well as the chirps of birds outside. I’m all stretched out on the somewhat undersized bed in nothing but my dress shirt, with my claws linked behind my head and being damn comfy.
I see the familiar purple horn and head peeking in through the door opposite the end of the bed. Seeing me laid out like I am, she makes an adorable look of judgment.
“Spike, are you seriously sleeping?”
That lack of stuffiness in her words makes for a comforting reassurance that the past few days haven’t been a dream. I give a satisfying yawn to her query before giving a proper answer.
“Just resting my eyes, Twi.” She giggles at that. I smile; her laughs these days are always refreshing. “Can you really blame me? Such a peaceful morning, and you taking your time getting ready.”
“Well I’m finished up, smart guy. Get your things so we can go; we have a train to catch.”
“There’s no real hurry. You’re still a princess, right? Not like they can leave you.”
A casual sigh. “Come on. We can take our time walking to the station.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be up in a sec.”
She ducks her head and I’m left alone. It’s been a surreal few days. At first I’m on the run for regicide, and here I am, relaxing under the somewhat broken roof of the library, my second home. Granted it’s in a storage room converted into a spare bedroom, but I can’t be too picky with accommodations seeing how my own house got blown to smithereens (damn you again, Pinkie). Not that I’m complaining, far from it. Gave me an excuse to spend time closer to Twilight, catch up on things, help clean up some of the mess I made, and uphold my duties as bodyguard, of course. It’s strange: all that turmoil, yet things are like what they used to be. Speaking of, that’s part of the reason I need to get up.
I heft myself up and turn around, planting my feet on the floor to stand. I grab my coat from the little chair, slip it on, take up my sword and strap it to my waist as I head for the door. My shades go on last as I step out onto the second floor landing, and not seeing Twilight around, I make my way downstairs. The library interior looks pretty close to what it had been all those years ago. Restoration for this place has been top notch overall, though there’s still the occasional splinter and plank sticking out, and a few patches of canopy popping through the ceiling. Still far better than how I left it over a week ago.
I’m out the front door and am instantly hit with the fresh breeze of late spring. My senses more rejuvenated, I look and immediately spot the diminutive pony princess a few feet before me. Her saddlebags are on, and she’s looking back at me.
“All ready, Your Majesty?” I ask, in mock formality, which gets me a smile and a roll of the eyes.
“Of course. Let’s be on our way.”
She nods and looks forward, and we start moving. I can’t help but see those bandaged nubs on her sides as we walk, and I wince. Part of me’s still sickened and regretful for doing that to her, although I’ve done that sort of thing and much worse to so many others without any real remorse. Yet I remind myself of what I was going through at that moment, and count myself grateful that it was only one count of regicide that day instead of two. Plus it meant getting the old Twilight back (in a screwed up way, admittedly).
Not that things were immediately hunky dory afterwards for everything else. I still had that sign over my head labeling me as a murderer and a terror to ponykind. While things have been cool around Ponyville, it’s gonna take some doing to fix up my public image to the rest of the country. In due time, hopefully. These things take time to heal, or straighten out in the best way realistically possible. Certainly helps with Sweetie Belle showing some appreciation with that luvin’ of hers.
And the same goes for Twilight (minus the Sweetie luvin’). Though Canterlot is shaping into a constitutional monarchy to make up for the changes I brought about, there’s still some more work and fence-mending to be done by the land’s sole ruling authority. But Twi’s always been a smart girl, with plenty of organizational and political handling picked up over the years. And with a good friend at her side (as well as the extra muscle), things have progressed rather smoothly for both her and the various other parties involved.
Bringing us to the occasion for today’s latest outing to Canterlot. As expected of her office, all meetings of political and economic importance are to take place in the capital, meaning a lot of commutes for her this past week. At some point she may just move up there for convenience sake, maybe once a good chunk of the castle is rebuilt. For today, it’s just a quick meeting with some economists and public security, loose ends mostly in those sectors. But afterward is when another set of loose ends will finally be dealt with, that she’s been meaning to do sooner. One of the first things that fell victim to Discord’s twisted social experiment: the Elements.
While she hasn’t fully cut ties with any of them, needless to say relations haven’t been all that peachy like in the old days. Except for Fluttershy, the others have been too busy with their careers or caught up in their own personal webs to bother staying in touch, made especially worse by Twilight’s tenure as Ms. Hardened Princess of Officialness. But with luck, we can start changing that today.
Not expecting an outright turnaround for the best. Dash will be a stubborn one to coax, for sure. But even she can’t ignore a royal summons given her position, and neither could an important produce manufacturer like Applejack. And walking down these sunny streets beside the biggest egghead on the matters of camaraderie, I’m feeling confident that at least some major bridge repair can be done (for the ones that are still alive, anyway).
“Spike? You seem to be thinking about something.”
“Huh? Oh, just random thoughts. Nothing in particular.”
“Hmm, okay. Just don’t go walking into a building.”
“Can do, princess.” That refreshing giggle again. A modest smile on my face.
That’s right. It’s like all those years ago: just the two of us heading for another uncertain future, but filled with just as much promise (though without the impending doomsday to get in the way). Just need that bit of hope between us to see it through. So let’s give it a shot, Twi.
Let’s get the gang back together.
THE ONE WHO EXECUTES
end
*Love, not Execute ;3