In Chains

by Dino Days

Arc One - Part One

I saw her from across the room. She was sitting at a round table, an empty champagne glass on the table in front of her. Paradoxically, her lack of a gaudy costume made her more noticeable in the crowd- at this place, flamboyance was the norm.

Her mane was black and pulled back in a ponytail. Her coat was as white as snow. Her eyes were grey, yet not dull. They seemed to be bright in their own way as she looked around with an inquisitive eye.

I moved across the room to get closer to her, avoiding costumed ponies and griffons, trying not to bump into any oversized swords or bat-wings. When I reached her, I sat down on the empty chair to her right.

She looked at me, and I could immediately tell she wasn’t happy to have company.

“Are you enjoying the party?” I asked her, ignoring her scowl.

“No.”

That was blunt. I was starting to get the impression that she wouldn’t play along with my attempts at conversation, but she was pretty, so I pressed on.

“Oh? Why not, if I might ask? I’m sure the organizers put a lot of work into it. I, for one, am enjoying the champagne!” I laughed. She didn’t respond with anything more than another glare. My laughing stopped as I got the distinct impression that she would hurt me if I didn’t leave.

And at a place like this, it wasn’t impossible. It may even have been likely.

I quickly got up and went to visit some other area of the ballroom. My coat stood up on end as I felt her watching me leave. What a strange mare.

I surveyed the room and looked at all the ponies in costume. Some were clad in functional-looking armour, while others—my favourites—wore skintight suits that pulled tight against the curves of their bodies. Nice.

My name is Cutlass, by the way. Kind of boring, and it fit me in that strange way names seem to fit ponies. I made swords, you see. A blacksmith of sorts. A rare trade, in this day and age—especially for a unicorn—but with all the heroes running around, there’s always somepony out there who wants a sword to fit with whatever theme they’d taken on for themselves. Which was silly, I thought, considering they all worked in secret. Who would even see their fancy costumes?

Speaking of heroes, the party I was attending was the annual heroes’ bash, hosted by none other than Bleeding Heart. I’d never met the guy, but he was a hero himself, in a way. He didn’t have any powers or a colourful costume, but he did fund and help the heroes in any way he could. I heard rumours he even ran some sort of training facility for them or something. I wouldn’t know- I’m not in the know.

I wasn’t a hero. I have the powers—the only reason I had been let in the party in the first place—but I didn’t actually do anything with them, other than occasionally make my job easier at my forge. It just isn’t a power that lends itself easily to stopping crime or anything like that.

I made my way through the crowd of ponies, griffons, and diamond dogs, feeling self conscious in my dress. I wasn’t wearing a costume like the rest- as I said, not a hero. The black dress I wore was vastly different to the costumes everypony else wore. The only thing I wore that hinted people at what I was and what I could do was a little chain I wore as a belt. If I weren’t wearing that, nopony would recognize me as the mare who made all their weapons and armour.

A little ways away I saw a brown earth pony stallion in a black domino mask. He was wearing a black, flat-brimmed sombrero on his golden mane, and a black cape over his back. A silver rapier hung from a belt around his hips. I recognized it- I had made it for him three months ago. In the guard of the rapier, hidden from anypony not in the know, was a firing mechanism for pistol rounds.

His hero alias was Dupe, but I just called him Goldy. His real name was Gold Smith, and he was my brother and the only reason I came to this party. Well, that and networking. It’s not like you could advertise ‘superhero weapons for sale’ on the radio or store windows.

He stopped talking to the armoured pony in front him—armour made by me, of course—and looked at me as I neared. “Hey, Cutlass. Are you enjoying the party?”

No. Everypony was too busy socializing with the big-name heroes to talk to me, and I felt out of place among all the powerful ponies.

“Yep!” I lied. “I’m having a grand ol’ time.”

He smiled a knowing smile. “No you’re not,” he responded. He placed his hoof on the shoulder of the armoured pony in front of him. “You remember Pauldron, don’t you?

I nodded. “It’s good to see you again,” I said to the armoured pony, holding my hoof out for him. He shook it.

It wasn’t good to see him again. The last time I saw him, we had gotten into an argument over whether or not I should add gold trim to the his armour. He had said he wanted to be as dull as possible, so his enemies underestimate him. I said that was stupid and that I wouldn’t let him walk out of my forge wearing an ugly piece of armour. That would reflect horribly on me.

His dull, matte grey, fully-encasing armour was testament to who won that argument.

“It is a pleasure to see you once again, young Cutlass,” he greeted me, his voice gruff and deep. He was so full of shit. “You’re looking lovely tonight. The most beautiful mare in the room!”

Well, I was the one of two ponies in the room who wasn’t wearing a face-concealing mask, so it really wasn’t that difficult. Maybe if he saw the white mare I had tried speaking to, he’d be singing a different tune.

“You’re looking drab, as usual.”

He laughed, a rich, hearty laugh. “Are you still upset about that, young lady?” he asked between guffaws. “I’m terribly sorry for the trouble that day, but you must understand. Not giving me decorated armour is merely a detriment for your business- giving me decorated armour is a detriment to my very life. I aim to give the appearance of a new, unpracticed hero who cannot get his hooves on such things.”

I’d never really thought of it like that. It was a valid point. I was still pissed.

“Uh huh. Well, how’s the hero business going? I see your armour’s taken quite a beating lately,” I pointed at a large gash on Pauldron’s helmet. “If you really want to give off the ‘newbie hero’ vibe, I suggest getting rid of the evidence of your recent battles.”

I could imagine his ears reddening underneath his helmet. He shuffled his hooves, detracting from the ‘regal knight’ image he was trying to attain. “I, er, was afraid if I brought it to you for repairs, you’d add gold trim,” he admitted.

I rolled my eyes. “You walking around in broken armour shines even worse on me than letting you walk around undecorated does. Bring it by my forge. I’ll fix it and won’t add anything fancy.”

He looked down.

“I promise,” I added with a wink.

Pauldron nodded. “I will come by tomorrow afternoon.”

“So, Cutlass,” Goldy started, “I was just talking to Pauldron about all the robberies lately.”

This was news to me. “Robberies? Is something going on?” I asked.

Goldy nodded. “We’re not sure what’s going on, and ponies are avoiding talking about it, but there’ve been more and more super-powered criminals coming out of the woodwork lately.”

Hm. “This is interesting, but why are you telling me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just saying, a lot of heroes are needed to keep them at bay.”

And there it was. Once again, my loving older brother was trying to convince me to risk my life for the greater good.

“I’m not a hero, Go- Dupe. I’m not cut out for that, and I don’t want to be.”

He raised his hooves, feigning innocence, but quickly put them back down when he started to fall. “I didn’t say you should,” he defended himself. “If you did, it would be really helpful, and you’d like, save lives and stuff. But if you’d rather not, that’d be cool too.”

Pauldron coughed, grabbing our attention before I could respond. “Whether or not you wish to join the fight in a more direct manner is up to you. However, if you choose not to, which you most likely will, I suggest making sure the heroes you equip are the most combat-ready as they can be.”

“I always do my best,” I argued, slightly offended.

“I know that, miss Cutlass. Your unwillingness to let me go with less-than-perfect armour has proven that to me. I am merely saying that it is of the utmost importance for you to continue doing your best.”

I sighed. Stupid, reasonable Pauldron!

“Alright, I will. Promise. Now, I’m going to go grab something to eat. Don’t forget to stop by tomorrow with your armour.”

He nodded.

“If you don’t, I’ll find you. And I will hurt you. I know all of your armour’s weaknesses.”

I turned and started walking towards one of the long table that were covered in snacks. I heard him laugh as I left, then abruptly stop.

“Wait, weaknesses? Does it have weaknesses? Hey, Cutlass, wait!”

The snack table was long and covered in a white tablecloth, which in turn was covered with dozens of plates and bowls filled to the brim with food. The particular table I found was covered in all sorts of pastries, candies, and desserts, as well a crystal bowl full of punch. I looked over my options- which I had a lot of. Most ponies were wearing masks that covered their mouths. Hah.

I used my magic to load a plate up with danishes, eclairs, and other goodies, making a sizable dent in the dessert stocks. Don’t judge me, it’s not like anypony else was eating them.

I started to think about what Goldy had told me. A bunch of new villains appearing in the same short span of time? It was an odd occurrence, to say the least. Most ponies who were born with powers simply lived their lives normally, ignoring them, and a good portion of the remainder became heroes. Very few thought it was worthwhile to try to become a villain.

I had read a news article a few days before about a recent string of arsons here in Canterlot. Was that caused by one of the new villains? It was a worrying thought. Most villains did their best to keep themselves out of the prying eyes of the public, going so far as to stop a fight with a hero if it looked like innocents would get involved. A code of honour was involved in that sort of life.

If a new villain or two had popped up that didn’t operate under that code of honour, it could mean bad news for the rest of us. For hundreds of years, us super-powered beings have been keeping the uninitiated in the dark about us. If they knew of the kind of power some of us held, they could panic and do something stupid. It’s always been that way.

Well, we think it was. Because of the secretive nature of us powered folk, it was difficult to figure out when people first started being born with powers. Some of the oldest powered families were only able to trace their history of special abilities back a few hundred years. The oldest was able to trace it back six hundred years- bringing us to around the same time as the crowning of the newest princess, Princess Twilight Sparkle. Some scholars believed her ascension to being an Alicorn was actually just her latent powers manifesting in a dramatic fashion, but most ponies just assumed it was coincidence that powers started manifesting about that time. It was a mystery for smarter ponies than me to figure out.

The sharp sound of a fork being tapped against a glass snapped me out of my thoughts and quieted the room. I looked up to the top of the grand staircase that dominated one side of the room to see Bleeding Heart standing there with his wife, holding a champagne glass in his red magical aura.

Bleeding Heart wasn’t super-powered. Neither was his wife. Yet, for some reason, he was involved. Nopony really questioned it- after all, he threw us heroes a party every year, and helped get fledgling heroes started with funding and professional costumes. There were rumours going around that his son had powers, though he didn’t confirm them. That would explain how he knew of us.

“Welcome, all,” he announced to the crowd. “Welcome to my home! As you all know, I hold a party annually for the heroes of Canterlot as a means of showing thanks to you all for doing what you do.”

There was a cheer and some hoof-stomping from the crowd. Bleeding Heart raised a hoof for silence, and continued.

“Now, we have two very special ponies in the crowd tonight. One is a talented young mare who I feel doesn’t get quite the recognition she deserves. She works tirelessly to equip all of you with weapons and armour to help hold back the tide of evil.”

Uh oh.

“Most of you know her, I suspect. Ah, there she is! Miss Cutlass, everypony!”

There was a round of hoof-stomps and hollering as Bleeding Heart pointed to me. I shrank back, embarrassed. The light grey of my cheeks became red as I blushed furiously. I managed a little wave to the crowd before.

“Now, I did say there were two special ponies here tonight. The second is a remarkable young mare, much like miss Cutlass.”

The crowd quieted down from its applause.

“You’re all aware of the dangers of the Everfree Forest. In recent years, the population and strength of the monsters there has been steadily rising, and villains have been using it as a place to make their headquarters and rest. As such, it’s a dangerous place, and those dangers have been seeping out into nearby Ponyville and other such settlements.”

The mood in the room became a somber one. The subject of the Everfree was dark and depressing, and not the kind of thing one wanted to think about during a party.

“Fear not, for I will stop speaking of horrible things. The mare I am about to introduce has been, for the last three months, working tirelessly to clear the Everfree of monsters and villains, stopping that evil from harming the nearby villages and making the world a safer place. She has been fighting, on her own, for freedom from these monstrosities.

“Her name is Virtue. Please, give her a warm welcome!”

He stepped aside. The beautiful white mare from earlier stepped forward from behind him and gave a little bow. I gasped in surprise. That mare was a hero?!

She didn’t say anything- no speech, no thank you’s as the ponies below applauded her. She simply stepped back from the crowd once more. Her eyes fell on me for a fraction of a second before she left the spotlight.

“Alright, now, before I let you return to you party,” Bleeding Heart said, “I’d like to say one more thing.”

The crowd quieted down once more.

“The forces of evil are massing like never before. I am not a hero; I can only provide my money and my gratitude to those who defend us. Because of this, I urge you, no, I implore you to continue fighting. Do not settle for merely defeating evil- destroy it. Do not send it running, only to return at a later date, stop it once and for all. Then, and only then, can our civilization be reborn into the light.”

The crowd was silent. Bleeding Heart made the same speech every year, yet it resonated with them all the same.

Earlier I mentioned that most ponies with powers didn’t do anything with them. They simply continued living their lives as though they weren’t able to do extraordinary things.

Most, if not all, of the heroes in the room had a reason to fight, to ignore the temptations of a normal life without the pressure or pain of being a hero. They had all lost something- a loved one, a friend, or themselves to evil and desired to make it right.

Bleeding Heart finished up his speech. “Now, do return to the party. I hope you all have a wonderful night.”

The crowd broke apart, still silent, but the usual background noise of a party soon built up once more as ponies started conversations with each other.

I realized I was still holding my plate of desserts in my magic. I had been singled out during the host’s address, and everypony could see how much I planned to eat. Wonderful.

I resolved to go on a diet once this was over. I wanted to still fit in this dress for next year’s party.

As I made my way through the crowds, I listened to their conversations. Most seemed to be talking about the mysterious mare who worked to clean up the Everfree, Virtue. Surprisingly, quite a few seemed to be talking about me. I listened in to one such conversation.

“...made me my hammer,” a griffon wearing brown leather armour was saying, holding out the hammer in question towards a young mare in a ski mask. I recognized it- it was a medium-sized hammer. I had designed it so he could swing it with one hand and hold his small shield in the other. On the hammer itself, two shotguns were installed, one on the front part of the bashing end and one on the back part.

“It’s really amazing. If I want some extra power in my swing I can just fire the shotgun and let that propel it, or I could just hit something with the hammer and shoot them for extra damage. That mare’s a genius.”

I beamed with pride.

“The shield’s nothing special, though.”

I scowled. He didn’t like my flame-proof, water-proof, magic-proof, shatter-proof shield? Bastard.

The conversations that weren’t about me were about Virtue. Most ponies wondered who she was, where she had come from. Some wondered why she wasn’t wearing a costume, and everyone was wondering why she would even step foot near the Everfree, let alone fight what lurked within.

I was wondering if she was single. Curse my one-track mind!

I felt a touch to my withers and turned to see a large diamond dog. He was looking down at me with bright, blue eyes. He wore a white bodysuit with a hole for the tail, complete with a hood and flowing white cape.

“Miss Cutlass?” he asked. I nodded with a smile. Something about the diamond dog put me at ease.

“You make stuff? Weapons?” he asked.

“I sure do! Would you like me to make you something?”

The diamond dog grinned. “Yes! Me want spear. Spear needs to be very strong. You can do?”

We set up a meeting for the following day so he could tell me what exactly he wanted.

“Me Frostbite, by the way. Get it? Frostbite?” He bit the air and laughed. I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“It’s good to meet you, Frostbite,” I tell him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, and I’m the mare who knows all the heroes in this city. What brings you to Canterlot?”

“Me get powers, want to become great hero,” he explained to me. “No crime in diamond dog mines, move to Canterlot. Save the day!”

His enthusiasm was contagious. “I’m sure you’ll make a great hero, Frostbite.”

“What about you?”

I cocked my head at the question. “What about me?” I asked.

“Me mean, why you make stuff for heroes?” he clarified. “How you know about heroes at all?”

“Well,” I started, nudging him towards the dessert table while we talked to fill up my now-empty plate. Don’t judge me. Forging things all day takes a lot of energy. “My family has a long history of heroics, you know? I grew up with tales of superheroes and villains. My brother always wanted to be a hero like the ones in the stories and our parents, but I didn’t. It didn’t really appeal to me. When our parents died, it spurred my brother into being a hero. He wanted to take up the mantle, get revenge for our parents, all that stuff. It only made me want to be a hero less, after seeing how dangerous it was. How easy it was to die.”

I glanced at the chain I used as a belt. “Even now, I bring a weapon with me everywhere I go. I’m not a hero, and I’ve never been in a fight. But I feel like I need it.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m just too scared to be a hero.”

“Most ponies not brave enough to admit they’re scared,” Frostbite commented.

I laughed and grabbed his arm with a hoof. “Since you’re new to Canterlot, come with me! There’s something I want to show you.”

I dragged him along behind me and made my way to the large mansion’s balcony.While the wording is meh, the concept is good - the heroes becoming more and more similar to the villains. You could nail the point a bit more, though.

This is ridiculous.

This is even more ridiculous, but at least funny. I don't know if you intended it.

She seems, to phrase it well, pesky. While it counts as a flaw, it's rather childish, and in an annoying, not funny way.

Comments

[The Dead Account]

Wait, what?!

*I run to the graveyard and to the headstone marked 'Dino Days. He wrote a thing and died. R.I.P.' Grabbing a convienently placed shovel, I procced to dig for several hours before finally reaching a wooden box. Using the shovel as a crowbar, I tear off the top of the coffin and peer inside, only to find a note. The note reads, 'I'm back motherfucker'.

...Well I'll be.