//------------------------------// // XVII: Confrontation // Story: A Prose By Any Other Name // by Jarvy Jared //------------------------------// The school bell was close to ringing, and Sweetie Belle impatiently waited for the sound that would release her. To her side, her friends also waited just as anxiously. Miss Cheerilee's words became blurred in her mind, overrun by images of that stallion who had become the object of her curiosity. Despite what had happened with Dinky, Tiara, and Spoon, she still had enjoyed herself in Dusk’s company. Dusk’s sense of justice and willingness to stand up to bullies was certainly worth her respect. His assurance to Dinky that there would be an end to Diamond’s harassment kept coming to mind, assuring her that Dusk truly wanted to help. It suddenly occurred to Sweetie that she didn’t have that many colts to look up to, other than Big Mac and a select few. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had never heard of colts becoming that explosive when faced with a bully. A part of her wondered what of that made Dusk so interesting; his anger was definitely dangerous when it was unleashed. Yet, once again, she reflected that behind that exterior lay a vibrant interior. And she knew that there was a deep, resonating, rich kindness in Dusk somewhere. Perhaps his response to the bullies was simply another version of that kindness, a more lively one? Some would say that her liking Prosa was bad; inherently evil, maybe. Befriending the unknown was, according to history, not the brightest of moves. Did it matter, though? She liked Prosa, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom liked Prosa; heck, even Rarity, and now Twilight and Fluttershy were beginning to warm up to him! There really wasn’t much of a need to justify her wanting to be around him, to hang out with him. She may not have been the best at judging the character of a pony, but she could tell when a pony was sincere. And something about Dusk—though, at the moment, unexplainable—told her that the stallion was not a threat. Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud clanging of the school bell. An excited grin formed on her face, and she looked to her fellow Crusaders, seeing similar expressions. Freedom was now in their grasp, and they practically bolted from their desk with only the briefest of goodbyes said to their teacher. A trail of smoke followed them as they zoomed down the hall and out the doors. Sweetie’s excitement grew as the welcoming afternoon light hit her face, her smile widening enormously. She and her friends trotted down the steps, and began talking about the enigmatic stallion. “Ah wonder what Mr. Prosa has in store for us today?” Apple Bloom wondered aloud. “Maybe something fun!” Scootaloo said. Her voice grew to a whisper, “Hopefully nothing that will end up with a filly on the ground crying.” Apple Bloom nodded, the memory of Dinky crying still in her mind. “Um… girls?” a soft voice asked to their side. They turned, and found a timid Dinky standing behind them. She shuffled her hooves nervously. “Uh… I was wondering… if-if…” Sweetie smiled. “Oh, you were wondering if you could go Crusading with us?” Dinky nodded. “Yeah, if that’s alright.” Scootaloo grabbed Dinky and winked playfully at her. “Of course it is, Dinky! The CMC are always looking for new members!” Seeing their sincere faces, Dinky couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, girls! What are we going to do today?” Apple Bloom rubbed the back of her head. “We were gonna head over to Dusk’s house. He probably has some idea of what we ought to do.” Dinky nodded happily. “Sounds like a fun plan!” “Let’s go!” the three of them chorused. They bounded down the steps, ready to pursue another adventure— “Oh, look, Silver Spoon! A herd of stupid blank flanks!” Apple Bloom sighed. “And Ah had thought she wouldn’t show up today.” “Oh no, is she going to be mean again?” Dinky whimpered. Scootaloo placed a hoof around the smaller filly reassuredly. “Don’t worry, Dinky. She won’t do anything dumb. We’ll just make sure Dusk knows about her as soon as possible.” She flashed her a smile. “He’ll curb her in no time!” She and Bloom then turned, facing the oncoming bullies. “Leave us alone, Diamond,” Scootaloo asserted. Diamond sneered back. “Why? Are you gonna cry for mommy?” “You’re being really mean!” Sweetie said. “So what? I don’t care what other ponies think!” Apple Bloom scuffed her hoof on the dirt road. “If ya don’t stop, we’ll get Mr. Prosa!” “What’s he gonna do?” Silver asked. There was a clear hesitation in her voice, though. Scootaloo smirked. “You mean besides scare you off like he did yesterday?” At that, the two bullies noticeably stiffened. Silver glanced around the Crusaders and Dinky, as if thinking that Dusk would be summoned at any moment. Diamond quickly shook it off, though, putting on a confident smirk. “Oh, I don’t think that user will be bothering me anytime soon!” Dinky looked at her in confusion. “You mean you’ve decided not to be mean anymore?” The Crusaders giggled at her question, while Diamond fumed. She tossed her mane with a huff. “Don’t be stupid, Dinky. Of course I’m going to mean to you blank flanks!” “And here Ah thought she’d actually be reformed,” Apple Bloom whispered, garnering more stifled chortles. “Anyway!” Diamond shouted, cutting off any further jabs. “I don’t think Prosa is going to be bothering anypony else before this day is over!” She smirked. “In fact, he might even leave town!” They gasped. “What!” Sweetie exclaimed, glaring at Tiara in anger. Tiara flashed her a bratty grin. “My father doesn’t mess around when it comes to ponies ‘harassing his little angel!’” She said the last part in a mocking tone, cackling afterwards. “In fact, he’s already over there now, having a few ‘choice words’ with that meanie!” “You’re bluffing!” “Am I?” She had meant every word; her overconfident and arrogant attitude were evidence of that. “We were on our way to watch the show,” Silver Spoon said. “Why don’t you four join us?” asked Diamond. The Crusaders and Dinky blinked. “W-what?” Scootaloo stammered. “Join you?!” Diamond rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s not like we care if you did or anything. But seeing that you girls seem to care about this Prosa, well, wouldn’t it be nice to be there when he’s driven out of town?” “He won’t be!” Sweetie cried. “You’ll see!” “Oh, whatever!” Diamond and Silver trotted down the road, callously pushing past the fillies. “I don’t know about you, Silver Spoon, but I don’t want to be late to Dusk’s expulsion!” The two of them laughed, before they soon became little more than dots in the distance. The remaining four exchanged concerned looks. “Oh, ponyfeathers!” Scootaloo exclaimed, stomping her hoof angrily. “We can’t just let them go! We gotta warn Dusk!” Apple Bloom nodded. “You’re right. We gotta hurry!” “But, what about—” Dinky tried to say something, but was cut off by Sweetie Belle. “C’mon, girls! We’re not letting Dusk leave that easily!” Soon the four broke into a fast-paced gallop, gunning down the road and towards Dusk’s house. It has to be a mistake. An error of judgement. Dusk shook his head. I know Raven. He would never say something so… naive. Despite it having been a few days since he had received the letter, it nonetheless remained as his foremost thought. It seemed so foolhardy, so stupid, so idiotic for Raven to say that Dusk could be saved. As if I could have been saved ten years ago! It was only luck that brought me out of that darkened time! He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. He still could not understand why Raven’s letter was leaving him so flustered; after all, it was just simple naivete, right? Right? Right. Right. So then why do I think it’s wrong? He shook his head. The remnants of a lightly toasted sandwich sat in front of him, half-eaten. His hounding thoughts had lessened his desire to eat lunch; the coffee was still lukewarm and half-filled. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was only a little past two. The foals would be out of school by now, he thought absentmindedly. I would guess that the Crusaders’ initial destination would be here. He frowned, unsure if he wanted their company at the moment. He was a little busy wallowing in confusion and self-spite, after all; he could not be bothered to help them get their Marks in paragliding. Still, though, if I truly were a blank flank, then perhaps I would have gotten my Mark with them, through their odd methods… He heard, then, a soft knock on the door. At first, he thought that it was the girls. He stood up, pushing away from the table and walking over to the door. The knocking continued as he got closer, and he realized that it could not have been the girls. The point of impact was way too high to be a mere filly; and the knocks were much more forceful than any of the girls were. He frowned; who could it be at his porch? An annoying politician, perhaps? A wandering merchant? Or was it somepony threatening, somepony who wished to have a violent word with him? More likely, it was the latter. But he couldn’t be sure without opening the door. But did he want to? After all that had occurred, he was unsure if he could face the world. He wondered if he ought to stay inside for a long while, until the danger had passed. After all, hiding in plain sight surely was more advantageous than confronting this risk? He sighed. He already knew the answer to that question. Risk was necessary; and he had learned that the hardest way. Being torn from your previous thought-process is a painful experience… yet, it was necessary in the long run. It was a huge risk, haphazardous, deadly; but also, the key to ponies’ freedom. Resolutely, he pushed aside any thoughts of hesitation, placing a hoof on the knob. With a quick intake of breath, he twisted it, pulling it open, expecting a threat. He wasn’t wrong. A light-brown, male Earth stallion met him eye-to-eye, bright blue meeting carnation pink. His mane, a lighter variant of black, was sleek and obviously gelled, based on its shiny appearance, and his tail was of a similar condition. A pair of bushy eyebrows topped off his face. He wore a blue half-vest with white collars and a red tie dangling in the center. A large s with two parallel lines going through it was embedded on the tie, and it seemed to flash in the noon light. A trio of money bags were his Cutie Mark, though he did not appear to be particularly inclined to flaunting it. Despite these details, what truly caught Dusk’s attention was the stallion’s facial expression. It was a simple frown, but it spoke enormously on what bothered him. Much as Dusk’s eyes allowed one to perceive a stallion of reserved liveliness, this newcomer’s eyes let Dusk see a stallion with an issue. With whom or what, it was easy to guess. But he opted to not say anything on the matter, simply staring at the newcomer with careful coldness. “Good afternoon, Dusk Prosa,” the stallion said, nodding briefly. “My name is Filthy Rich.” Hearing his name caused a flicker of recognition to appear in Dusk’s gaze, but he remained silent. He had anticipated Rich’s eventual arrival, and he could already guess for what purpose he was here. Dusk stared at him for a few more seconds, before stepping to the side, letting him enter. Rich nodded, taking careful, precise steps through the door. Dusk pointed to the living room to the left, while also closing the door shut. As Rich made his way to a couch, Dusk vanished into the kitchen. A moment later, he reappeared in the living area, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a pitcher. He set the tray down, and offered one of the cups to Rich. The light-brown stallion had the faintest of smirks on his face as he accepted the cup. “I see you do have some manners.” Dusk took the couch opposite of him, also holding a cup. “One must never neglect to be a good host to guests,” he responded, taking a sip and closing his eyes. Rich took a sip, eyes lighting up in surprise. “Just the right amount of cream and sugar,” he noted, looking at Dusk. “How did you guess?” The pewter-stallion shrugged. “A simple observation.” Filthy nodded, taking another sip, before placing the cup down on the coffee table. The two of them sat silent for a few moments, Dusk still having his eyes closed. He seemed indifferent to Rich’s presence, though inwardly he was every bit on edge, anticipating and guessing any potential move that Rich might make. An imaginary chess board appeared in front of him—a tactic he had acquired some years ago—and he saw Rich prepare his pieces. In his mind, he set up his own pieces, carefully guarding his King. Rich moved first, placing a Pawn two units up, in the form of words. “I imagine you to be a rather smart stallion, Mr. Prosa,” he began, his words smooth and obviously prepared. Dusk said nothing, responding by moving his own mental Pawn a unit up. “And I also imagine you to be quite knowledgeable about how this town functions.” “Flattery shall get you nowhere, Mr. Rich,” he replied quickly, moving his Bishop ahead. Rich nodded, but also moved his own Bishop with his next phrase. “Neither shall bullying, Mr. Prosa.” Rather than make an allusion to his daughter’s actions, Dusk simply took another sip of his coffee, and waited. Rich surged ahead. “In this town, bullies are to be spoken to about their actions, and encouraged to no longer be—beasts, as you put it.” His Bishop took down one of Dusk’s Pawns; but if Dusk showed any concern to the loss, he was great at hiding it. “In a town such as this,” Dusk then said, moving another Pawn forward, “I would expect no less in morality.” “Then you agree? That you—” Rich cleared his throat, “—that bullies ought to be taught a lesson?” “In ethics, maybe,” was his careful reply, “though I fail to see the point.” “What ever do you mean?” “Can you teach a wolf to be a dog? Could you teach a tiger to be cat?” “Are you saying that bullies cannot be changed?” “If not resolved early, perhaps.” “Is that what happened to you, then?” Rich pushed another piece, this time a Rook, forward, intending to trap Dusk’s Bishop. “You were not ‘resolved?’” Dusk moved his Knight, taking out the enemy Rook. “Criminationibus irritatus submisit sine testimoniis expositum, potest dimitti sine evidentia.” “My evidence is a crying filly and a witness!” Rich protested angrily, trying to go on the offensive. “As is mine,” Dusk cooly responded, creating a strong barrier around his pieces. “It appears we are at a stalemate. Shall we end the initial first blows?” His eyes snapped open, and he leaned forward, not waiting for Rich to respond. “Why are you here?” “If you are as every bit as smart as the local mares say you are, then you must know why!” “I do know. It was as obvious as the fact that you are a stallion.” The barest hint of a smirk crossed his lips. “You are a stallion, correct?” The jest was ignored with an annoyed huff. “I am here to talk about your… ‘experience’ with my daughter, Diamond Tiara.” Obviously, Dusk thought, taking out another of Filthy’s Pawns. “It was interesting, to say the least.” “‘Interesting’ is putting it mildly.” Rich narrowed his eyes. “You drove both Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon to tears with your actions, young man!” “Do not speak to me as if I am but a mere child.” “Then stop acting like one!” With that interjection, Rich burst through the defense, claiming Dusk’s Bishop. Hmm. This might be harder than I thought. “Perhaps you could enlighten me more on your problem?” Dusk asked, casually taking down the stallion’s Knight with his own. Rich blinked. “I just told you my issue!” “I fail to see the issue, then.” Filthy Rich huffed and snorted in anger. “You really are quite stubborn, Dusk Prosa.” “An endearing quality, I’m sure.” Dusk’s dry wit presented him more Pawns to capture, leaving Rich absent of any initial defenses. Rich shook his head. “Fine! I’m here because you made my daughter cry!” “Yes. And?” “Have you anything to say in your defense?” “Are we in court?” “We might as well be prosecution and defense, respectively!” “… I did what I thought was necessary.” “Necessary?!” Rich suddenly stood, his fur bristling. “You made them cry and threatened them with death! How is that necessary?” Dusk was somewhat surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but did not show it. He looked up at the stallion with a bored gaze. “Threatened them with death, Mr. Rich? Is that not a bit far-fetched?” “Not when it comes from my daughter, it isn’t!” “Surely that offers up the need for skepticism. You’re daughter certainly isn’t the most honest of fillies.” “Are you calling Diamond Tiara a liar?” “Precisely. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on.” “I won’t stand for such accusations!” “Then you had better sit down, Mr. Rich.” Dusk’s voice took on a bladed edge, laced with a touch of venom. It was clear he had no intention of asking again. Filthy said nothing, sitting back down and trying to reclaim his composure. He gripped the coffee cup intensely, nearly cracking the porcelain item. Dusk decided that he had to approach this differently. While seeing Rich get riled up was, admittedly, somewhat entertaining, he didn’t want to cause a huge uproar. He leaned forward, choosing his next words carefully. “Have you heard of Diamond Tiara’s… less-than innocent activities?” Rich raised an eyebrow. “Surely you aren’t implying that she’s a user like yourself.” Dusk ignored the obvious jab. “Have you heard of the tales spread on the playground? Of a pink filly with a crown for her Mark, joined by her spoon-themed lackey, on a quest to bring misery to all those around her? The stories of two fillies, seemingly left untamed and unchecked by society?” Rich snorted. “Preposterous rumors with little substance.” Dusk raised an eyebrow. “The multiple eyewitnesses from both foals and teachers alike suggest otherwise.” He took a slow breath. “Need I bring up the various accounts of crying, sobbing children?” Filthy visibly winced, and Dusk knew he had found an opening. “The 5th of March. A certain Button Mash comes home in tears because a certain pink foal called him a loser for playing a video game. The parents call in, the teachers hold a conference, a certain rich stallion is requested to arrive. He does, and… nothing of importance happens. At least, according to said certain stallion in several accounts.” He leaned forward, sending out his Knights and Rooks, taking out the Bishops and enemy Rooks. “The 17th of May. Not as heart-wrenching, but equally a cause for concern. A colt by the name of Pipsqueak comes home, not in tears, but in confusion. He asks his father, ‘Poppa, what is dwarfism?’ Confused by the question, the father asks where his son learned such a term. In answer, the son details the encounter with a certain pair of fillies. They had called him such a term—most likely having learned it for only such an occasion—and even had gone so far as to suggest that it would lead to him ‘being lonely and miserable for the rest of his life.’ Once again, the school is called, and a conference is held, and events proceed very much as it did in the past. Nothing happens—according to one stallion.” He brought his Queen out, preparing her for attack. “And then, just recently, we have accounts of those fillies at it again. But this time, they’re attacking multiple targets. First, a young unicorn filly’s mother is spoken poorly of, purely out of spite. In particular, the mother’s eyesight is called into question—despite there being no evidence of her having impaired vision, despite the obvious disconnect in ocular symmetry. Naturally—nay, impressively—the filly of the mother stands up to these fillies, and they in turn begin to harass her, for having no Mark, for having a mother who supposedly can’t see right. And what do they call this mother?” Dusk paused, allowing his words to sink in, before landing what he thought to be the final blow. “They called her… retarded.” Venom filled his voice. “Where they learned such a term is not as important as learning why they used said term.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now, after hearing all of these allegations, do you still deny that your daughter has committed irresponsible wrongs?” “O-of course! I taught my Tiara better than that!” “… Then you are as every bit incapable of teaching as you are ignorant.” He held up a hoof before Rich could protest. “Don’t bother denying it. You’ve already proven that you are a very stupid stallion, unwilling to look past his own, hindering schema. Your ideals are false, your ideas convoluted and idiotic. The root of this complete incomprehensibility, is your ignorance, Mr. Rich. Your ignorance to the problems that others face, and to the fact that your daughter has done nothing but evil and malicious actions in the time that you’ve spent here.” He leaned slightly back, turning more thoughtful, yet still retaining the sharp edge to his voice. “I must wonder why nopony in this town has done anything to completely rectify this error. Why nopony has decided enough was enough, that perhaps they had to fight back against this disgust and filth. I wondered, is this town that stupid? That gullible?” He shook his head. “I was wrong. This town is by far one of the best. Upholding its values of Friendship, from what I gathered, is one of the prime objectives. And from repeated observation, I discovered that this town is not going to go down that path of righteous fury.” Once more, he glared at Filthy Rich. The fire in his eyes had turned a deadly bright pink, igniting his heart and soul. “But I am not from this town, and therefore not hindered by its objective. And if I have to stamp down the egotistical, then I sure as hell will.” Check, he thought, as his Queen blocked the King from moving. Rich glared back, silent for a moment, taking in Dusk’s words. His side of the imaginary board was pretty much empty; all of the Pawns had been taken, his two Bishops and one Knight and Rook overrun. All that remained was a Rook, a Knight, and his King and Queen. “Who do you think you are?” Rich suddenly asked, drawing Dusk out of his thoughts. The pewter stallion gave Rich a questioning look, not bothering to answer. “Do you really think you have any power here?” Again, Dusk did not answer, carefully regarding the stallion opposite of him. “Mr. Prosa, you have to realize that you cannot force the meanness out of my daughter through intimidation!” The last word made him visibly stiffen, but other than that, no words were uttered in response. “Diamond Tiara is very fragile, and I won’t have anypony threaten her while I’m around!” Rich’s strength briefly faltered as his eyes took on a faraway look. “Even if she’s learned a lot more from her mother than from me…” Dusk didn’t need any clarification. A twinge of guilt poked at his heart, but he shoved it away, trying to maintain a facade of coldness. Dealing with guilt-ridden parents, especially those who felt inadequate, while rare, was something he was somewhat familiar with. Still, though, that only served to barely craft a blow to his distaste. Ignorance could not be excused, and Rich wasn’t going to get off easy. “Whether or not your daughter has been influenced by nature or by nurture is of little concern,” he said, gaze only slightly losing its ferocity. “What matters is her actions—both past and present.” “You mean her—” “Harassment. Intimidation. Bullying.” The brown stallion placed his head in his hooves. Dusk pictured his pieces ransacking the board, doing away with the Rook and Knight. It’s over, he thought, strangely satisfied. The feeling was quickly replaced with repulsion. Why was he satisfied? He just forced a pony to confront the truth about his child. There was no justification for this sudden change in attitude. It was like he was resuming his old role as— Rich looked up at him. “Then, by that logic, your actions need to be questioned as well.” His statement seemed to echo in his mind, breaking his line of thought. Dusk raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “Driving fillies to tears? Yelling and threatening them?” Rich’s Queen moved, taking out Dusk’s remaining Bishop. “And that’s just the present grievances. What about locking yourself away in this home, doing goddess knows what?” He narrowed his eyes at the pewter stallion. “Diamond has said that you’re in possession of… less than savory items. Who’s to say that you might negatively influence others to follow in your footsteps?” As his argument took stride, more of Dusk’s pieces were captured. He watched, in morbidly rapt interest, as his own offense was used against him. “Users, druggies, or addicts; it doesn’t matter what ponies call you. It’s obvious to me that you could be a threat.” “Your point being?” Rich narrowed his gaze, sensing an opening. “Leave. Don’t come back.” “Why?” “Diamond tells me that you’ve taken a particular liking to those three fillies she sees at school. I have reason to believe that you are corrupting them with your secrets.” Rich stood, looking down at Dusk. “If you truly care for those fillies, you will leave. Because if you stay, there’s no telling how much bad will follow you.” Dusk stared at Rich, carefully concealing his emotions. However, as his body began to shake, he realized he could not contain what he was feeling much longer. “A worthy argument,” he said, slowly rising to his hooves, head lowered. “But nonetheless flawed.” His head snapped up, momentarily surprising Rich. “If I’m a threat, then so is your daughter. To those fillies that I care about. You should leave, too, by that logic.” Rich bristled. “Are you threatening my family?” “Are you threatening mine?!” Dusk suddenly shouted, rising to his full height. His anger unleashed itself upon the shocked business owner, emphasized by the harsh glare in his eyes and the quaking furniture. “Your daughter made a child cry! And has a history of constant bullying and harassment against others! Those fillies I care about are her biggest victims! Do you mean to tell me that you are willingly justifying your child’s idiocies and errors simply because she wasn’t raised as well as she could have?!” “I—” “Because if you do, then you’re just as stupid as she is! I don’t give a damn if Diamond simply turned out badly! I acted as any sensible adult should have!” Glowering at Rich, Dusk’s voice dropped into a harsh whisper. “If your daughter is not curbed of her insolence, then she will become a greater threat. I have seen far worse bullies fall down that path of self-destruction. You ought to be thanking me for intervening when I did!” “That is enough!” Rich roared, standing up and rising just slightly above Dusk. “You will not say such things!” “I will say the truth, the pure black and white, when the world needs it!” “This isn’t an issue of black and white! This is an issue of greys!” He shoved a hard hoof at Dusk, pushing him back against the edge of the seat. “Diamond Tiara is a child! You are an adult! Start acting like it—” Suddenly, Dusk grabbed Rich’s hoof and twisted, making him yelp in pain. With another hoof, he shoved him back, forcing him on the ground. As Rich looked up at Dusk, his eyes widened in surprised horror. A red-hot, fiery aura seemingly surrounded the pewter stallion, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. It was as if he was possessed, not by ghost, nor by spirits; but by Tartarus itself! “Do not try to lecture me on what is mature, Filthy Rich. I will not have a failed parent try to teach me right and wrong, when I have seen true right and true wrong.” “I will drive you out of town!” Rich cried, glaring equally angrily at the stallion. “We won’t have a user like you around for long!” “I am more than a so-called user, you irrumator!” He picked Rich up by his vest collar with jaw-dropping ease, and shoved him against the wall, eyes dangerous and wild. “Do not even try to threaten me, Rich! You are treading on dangerous ground!” He pulled back, before shoving Rich against the wall again, causing the whole house to shake. “I could do so much to you right now; so many things that you would make you beg for death!” He leaned in close, voice dripping with vengeance. “Do you know what happened to the last stallion who dared to cross me?! “He’s ten feet under! And if you’re not careful, you’ll be in the same situation!” He let go of Rich, breathing heavily. The elder stallion slumped against the wall, eyes wide with complete fear. For several, tentative seconds, nothing was said. “Get the hell out of my house,” Dusk ordered gruffly. Rich didn’t even nod as he staggered to his hooves. He stared at Dusk, his mouth moving, yet no words forming. Something in his head clicked, and he began shuffling away from the angered pony. In no time he was by the door, and then he was out of it, darting out in a desperate trot to safety. Dusk watched him go, his anger slowly receding. The board had been cleared, sloppily; he felt dissatisfied with the outcome. Never before had a mind game ended in such a way that made him feel this way, and he regretted ever letting Rich into his home. But more than anything, he regretted allowing himself to reveal his vulnerable anger to that stubborn stallion. Rich’s blatant ignorance, while fury-inducing, was nothing compared to the frustration that Dusk felt for and at himself. He heard, then, the distinct sound of a bush shuffling, and his eyes immediately darted to the mulberry patch nearby. A white head poked out, with a purple and pink mane, emerald eyes looking at him in shock. He stared back, eyes wide, as if he had been caught doing something bad; but, in retrospect, he had. He then saw an orange head, then a tan, then a pink, then a purple-grey, then a dolphin-grey; and they all had similar expressions of disbelief. Seconds passed, before he stepped back into his home, slamming the door and locking it shut. He didn’t have time to deal with those fillies now. He was much too busy wallowing in his self-hatred. With a disappointed sigh, he trotted up the stairs, feeling empty, alone, and feeble. There would be no solace, no comfort, for him. Sweetie wasn’t sure what to feel. Fear came to mind, but so did sadness, for some reason. The six fillies were surprisingly silent—Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon having apparently been shocked into saying nothing. They all returned to their homes, not saying a single word to each other, reeling from what had transpired. Sweetie had thought Dusk had been angry when he had confronted Diamond and Silver; but now, his rage paled in comparison to his most recent fury. But, instead of finding some sort of justification for Dusk’s anger, Sweetie could only find disappointment. She hadn’t said anything to Rarity, returning to her room without speaking with her sibling. Currently she sat on her bed, staring at the wall, her mind alight with millions of thoughts. Dusk’s words were terrifying, dark; seemingly out of character for the stallion. Or was it? The only Dusk that Sweetie knew was the reclusive one, who had a sense of justice—albeit a very colorful one. He was intelligent, yes, strong, too. Yet, despite his odd nature, he never seemed unapproachable. Simply put, he was guarded, introvertive; but still amicable. At least, he was. Now, she wasn’t sure what to think. A part of her wanted to support Dusk. Filthy Rich had no right to barge in and try to drive him out of town. Calling him a user without any evidence to support that was also quite rude of the business stallion. Yet, that part of her was quickly overrun by the other part: the one where she began to believe that Rich was somewhat right. Though she had seen the syringes, she had no idea if that made Dusk a user. That did not mean that she didn’t think he could become a threat. Whose blood that was stored in those syringes was still a mystery, and if anypony besides herself and the Crusaders found out about them, they’d come to the conclusion that he was a danger to them all. Not to mention, Dusk’s anger and throwing Rich around was absolutely unheard of in Ponyville. Nopony had ever lost their temper so much that they would actually threaten to hurt somepony else. At first, Sweetie immediately thought it was a ruse; but Dusk’s tone and the painful sounds of the walls creaking and bodies being slammed told her the truth. Dusk was hiding something; but now, it was more than the syringes. It was a violent past. One fraught with hostility. One that might even lead to Dusk becoming a threat. “Sweetie Belle?” Rarity’s voice called from outside of her room. “Are you alright?” Sweetie sighed. “I’ll be fine, Rarity, honest.” Rarity paused, worried, but nonetheless stepped away from Sweetie’s room. The young unicorn rolled back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her emotions were in turmoil, rambling with questions about Dusk Prosa, his past, and his motives. She had no answers, and knew that she would likely find none. Whatever that stallion was hiding, she had a feeling that it would come crashing down on him; and she worried that the consequences would be disastrous.