Bulletproof Heart: Sunset at Little Longhorn

by PaulAsaran

Rainbow Recollections

They’d discovered that morning that the gun dropped by the bandit in the back of the house had never been recovered, and so Sunset had reluctantly claimed it for herself. Rarity wasn’t thrilled by the design, it requiring Sunset to manually re-cock the hammer with every shot, but concluded it would serve for the time being. Her new friend wasn’t in a position to be choosy.

Getting ammunition had been the tricky part. Little Longhorn lacked a gunsmith, to say nothing of a bullet manufacturer. It quickly became clear that if Little Longhorn’s citizenry were going to defend themselves, they’d need to transition at least some of their economy towards the acquisition of supplies. But that was for later. Luckily, Sunset recognized the gun and thus its owner. Rarity didn’t have to do anything more than show up at the pale-faced stallion’s door for him to practically throw his ammunition box at them.

Now they were outside town, Sunset taking clumsy shots at some random junk, mostly empty food cans from the nearby trash pit. She’d yet to hit a single one after a half-dozen shots. Undeterred, Rarity decided it was time to step in. “You’re too tense, darling. You need to loosen up a bit.”

Sunset fumbled with the top-breach revolver, dropping a couple bullets as she tried to reload it. “But if I don’t tense up, how am I supposed to look down the sights? My hands aren’t that steady.” As if to prove her point, another bullet missed its mark, tumbling from her hands and into the grass.

Using her magic, Rarity lifted the bullets from the ground and took them in her hand, watching with some sympathy as her friend worked to get the last bullet into the cylinder. “One secret they never tell you in all the stories is that in most fights you’re not going to have time to carefully line up a shot. Standing still for long enough to try will just paint a giant target on you. You have to rely on instinct and practice.”

At last closing the loaded revolver, Sunset scowled. “If we don’t have time to use the sights, why have them at all?”

“Because they still help,” Rarity lectured, depositing the bullets in Sunset’s waiting palm. “I can fire from the hip, but my aim is better if I’m looking down the sights, even if only very briefly.”

Sunset’s eyebrows lowered in a skeptic’s glower. “But you just told me I shouldn’t do that.”

It was tempting to roll her eyes, but Rarity wanted to be as encouraging as possible. “Sunset, sweetie, you’ve been standing there for thirty seconds each shot looking down the sights. That will get you killed in a proper gun battle. You need to move fast.”

“If I move fast, I’ll miss.”

In a flash, Silver Lining was out of its holster. Three shots fired, three cans jumped. Rarity had looked down the sights of the weapon each time, and within three seconds the gun was back at her hip. She smirked at Sunset’s wide-eyed stare, taking a moment to flick her mane. “Practice.”

Sunset shook off her shock and dutifully put her scowl back on. “Or maybe you’re just skilled.”

That made Rarity lose some of her pomp. She could still vividly recall her first attempt to fire a weapon and her surprise at having been so good at it. Nothing at all like she was now, but the point remained valid. “I don’t intend to boast when I admit that I have some talent at this, but that doesn’t mean you can’t become good if you keep trying.”

“‘Keep trying’, she says.” Despite the scoff in her tone, Sunset took aim at the targets once more. She was still stiff, and her legs were a little too far apart, but Rarity didn’t correct her yet. A shot rang out. Another miss. Grumbling, Sunset used her thumb to cock the hammer. “It’s all well and good for me to keep trying, but this is just the start. How the hay am I supposed to teach an entire town how to do this when I—” Another shot, another miss. “When I can’t even score a hit?”

“Baby steps, I suppose.” Rarity stepped behind Sunset and used her magic to nudge her, repositioning her legs. “If you start to feel that this isn’t working, you could always resort to a rifle. Different ponies are better at using different weapons.”

“How am I supposed to get my hands on a rifle?” The revolver barked, but the cans didn’t jump. Sunset growled as she cocked the hammer. “I question how I’ll afford bullets for this thing, getting a whole different gun is out of the question.”

This time Rarity did roll her eyes, even knowing Sunset wouldn’t see it. “Says the mare hoarding paper for the sake of magic research.”

“Hey!” Abandoning her aim, the older mare turned to glare at her. “The study of magic is my life. You can’t ask me to give that up for this.”

Meeting her gaze with a raised eyebrow and perhaps some disdain, Rarity asked, “So you won’t give up your life to protect… your life?”

Sunset’s mouth opened, but her retort died on her lips. After a moment’s stammering, she snapped, “You know what I meant!”

Maybe Rarity was approaching this topic all wrong. She turned away from the frustrated unicorn to look out at the small town of Little Longhorn. She reminded herself that it was, indeed, a small town. And Sunset, by extension, was a small-town mare. That had been Rarity once, long ago. She remembered the fear of not knowing what was coming, of being lost and confused and frightened, of having a strange device in her hands and not knowing if she was truly meant to hold it.

More importantly, she remembered what came after.

“Are you afraid?”

It was several seconds before she was given a response. “Of course I am. You’re asking me to give up a peaceful life in favor of… of… I don’t know. Being some kind of public defender?”

“Peaceful?” Rarity turned back to her with a sympathetic frown. “Is that what you’d call it? Are you saying you feel peaceful when you go out to take care of the Rainbow Gang’s graves? When you go to teach your classes? When you get water from the well? When you lay down to sleep?”

Sunset stared at her, arms limp at her sides. A cloud of sorrow drifted across her features. As it did, her eyes lowered to the grass.

But the gun was held firmly in her hand.

Seeing her point made, Rarity stepped up and grasped the unicorn’s shoulders. “I’m not trying to make you a hero. I’m trying to help you feel safe in your own home. Nopony should live in fear like this. You deserve better. Everypony does.”

They stood there for what felt like an eternity. Sunset’s gaze remained on the ground, no matter how long Rarity waited for her to raise it. Eventually, that gaze shifted to the gun. Sunset lifted it, turned it about, studied it as if to really capture its essence. “I don’t know if I can do this. I know I said I’d try. I want to. Honest, I do. But the last time somepony stood up for themselves in this town, stronger, ruthless ponies came and killed everypony. My friends. My family. I…” A shudder ran through her. “I don’t want to see that happen again.”

She found it impossible to empathize with that. Rarity had lost her father, true, but otherwise her family and home were intact and generally safe. She couldn’t imagine coming home to find it and everything around it destroyed because of petty ego. The damage that kind of experience could cause a child was on too grand a scale for her to relate to. It didn’t stop her from trying.

Nor would it stop her from trying to do something about it. “I’m sorry. I can’t understand how you must feel right now. Nor can I promise that the worst won’t come to pass.” She cupped the mare’s cheeks in her hands, guiding them so they could meet one another’s eyes. “Unless you try, you will always live with this fear. You and all the ponies in Little Longhorn.”

Sunset said nothing. She didn’t smile or frown or argue. She merely stood there, staring at Rarity. Or perhaps at something beyond Rarity.

Then she offered Rarity the gun. “I can’t do this right now. Let’s do something else.” She waited until the gun was reluctantly taken, then turned back towards the town. “Come on. Let me keep my part of the deal. Well, one part of it, at least.” Not sure what she meant, Rarity followed.

It was a long, quiet walk. They’d gone far away from Little Longhorn, all the better for safety. Rarity desperately wanted to speak, but the what of it eluded her. It seemed as though Sunset was on the verge of giving up. And Rarity? She felt guilty. Guilty, because now she felt like she’d been trying to force the mare into an impossible solution. The offer made the night before had come without a proper appreciation of what had happened here. Now that it was front and center in her mind, she wondered if what she was asking was at all fair.

She firmly believed that a mare should stand up for herself and her community. That didn’t mean everypony could. Sunset was not her, no matter how many times she let slip the stronger persona hidden under the meekness.

They entered town. There were earth ponies here. Many disappeared indoors upon seeing them. Those that didn’t… stared. Many in fear. Some in anger. Rarity held her head high, refusing to let any of her anxiety show. Sunset wasn’t so controlled, her shoulders slumped and her arms wrapped around her stomach as though to fight off nausea. She kept her head low, using her brilliant red and yellow mane to hide her face from their incessant gawking.

Then they were past the neighborhood and in the thestral residences. Though there was nopony around or awake right now to stare, Sunset didn’t look up. Rarity wanted to offer some form of comfort, even if only a hand on the mare’s arm, but she didn’t dare. Something told her it wouldn’t have been taken well.

Another ten minutes of silence brought them to the cemetery, and Rarity suddenly understood what Sunset was planning. As they walked among the tombstones to a familiar semicircle of graves, she hoped what was coming wouldn’t be succeeded by a request to leave. She stopped before entering the area, watching as Sunset went straight to the center. When the mare turned to face her, the resigned misery she displayed had Rarity greatly questioning whether she wanted to go through with this at all.

“Well,” Sunset said, spreading her arms wide as if to put the graves on display, “what did you want to know?”

Rarity looked to each grave in turn. Seven graves, six names. What had Sunset claimed? That she knew them? “I want to know if you’re really willing to do this. I feel like I’m overstepping, and you have every right to slap me down.” Part of her hoped that would be the case, if only for proof that she wasn’t imagining the strong mare being hidden from the world.

Sunset responded by sitting cross-legged in the grass facing the graves. She even smiled, though it was a wan one. “We had an agreement.”

An agreement that Sunset might not maintain. Not that it mattered. If it were within her power then Rarity wouldn’t hesitate to come to this town’s aid, agreement or no agreement. Still, on principle Rarity should object.

Instead, she sat in the grass beside Sunset. “You met them?” At the teacher’s nod, she said, “I want to know about them. Not the heroes. The ponies. Tell me what you remember.”

Sunset was unfased by the request. She even managed a more enthusiastic smile this time, though ‘enthusiastic’ might have been an exaggeration. “I guess you wouldn’t be a legend if you were looking to be wowed by legends.” Rarity tactfully refused to deny being a ‘legend’, no matter how much the statement annoyed her.

Sunset thought for a time, presumably looking for a suitable place to start. Her head turned slowly, taking in the graves before them. Her eyes settled upon the one with the name “Wild Fire” emblazoned upon it, and she smiled. As if spurred on, she started talking.

“I was just a kid when they came around town. They only showed up four times, always off on one adventure or another, and only once did they all come at the same time. The first time, I mostly stayed out of their way. I was intimidated. Bunch of adults roaming town with guns, who wouldn’t be? That first time, Wild Fire had just joined up and was still recovering from a really bad fight. Cousin Stormy wouldn’t let her out of bed. It drove her crazy.” Affecting a gruff voice, she declared with fists theatrically raised, “Three weeks? More like three decades!” Chuckling, she concluded, “That pegasus couldn’t stand being cooped up.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile as, before her eyes, Sunset lost her anxiety and began to relax.

The mare’s arms moved as she spoke, as if to add to the story. “I was too young to work the fields,” pinching her fingers close as if to demonstrate something tiny. “So Cousin Stormy had me look after Fire while the adults were out working. She was a total sourpuss for the first few days.” She took on an exaggerated scowl for a split second. “Then, one day, she had me pull out a chessboard and declared that I was going to learn how to play. Of course, I was still intimidated to Tartarus of the mare, so I couldn’t say no. And then…”

And there it was: the warm, pleasant, calm smile of a happy memory. “I played with her every day. At first it was just to humor her and not be the target of her anger, but before long I was the one demanding a game. She never let me win, always played at her best, and she’d poke fun at me every time I lost. And I did lose. Again, and again, and again. It drove me crazy, and I became obsessed with beating her. She recovered before I could, and then the Gang was gone. But I didn’t stop; I played anyone who was willing, determined to get better so that when she returned, I would win.” That last word came with a raised, clenched fist and a look of fierce determination.

By now Rarity was wholly invested. She realized she was leaning forward slightly. “And did you?”

“Not once.” Yet Sunset was still smiling wide as she met Rarity’s gaze. “I got a stalemate on her, twice, both the last time she visited. But I never got a win.” She sighed and let her hand fall to the grass. “I miss playing chess with Fire. She loved that game. Carried a board with her wherever she went. Sometimes I think they called her the ‘Solid’ Citrine because of her skill with a rook.”

A new quiet descended, but not for long. Sunset’s head turned, and her eyes lit up at a certain name. “Tough Nut. The ‘Raging Carmine’!” She spoke the name in a proud, firm tone, puffing out her chest with a pompous air. The pose lasted only a second before she broke into giggles. “They called her that because of her temper. She was the most intimidating of the bunch back then. She wasn’t very big, but she had a real short fuse that Cousin Stormy loved to light.” She made the hissing sound of a match being lit, pantomiming doing so against her arm and igniting an imaginary stick of dynamite. “Boom. They say she was banned from a hundred bars across Equestria because her regular barfighting made it too expensive to have her as a customer.”

She turned to Rarity, leaning closer as if to convey a secret. “But you know what they don’t tell you? You never hear it in the stories, but Nutty was a puppeteer and ventriloquist.”

Rarity, having done the only appropriate thing and leaned in to listen, found herself at a loss. She blinked for a few seconds, trying to reconcile the violent anger she’d just learned about with somepony who manipulated marionettes for a living. It proved an impossible task, and she couldn’t resist giving voice to that fact. “You must be joking.”

Sunset was all smiles, looking every bit like a gossipy child with a juicy piece of news. “No, really! Nutty loved kids, so whenever she came to town she’d set up this stage in the square and invite all the children to watch. Her favorite puppet was this red jester with a mean smirk she called ‘Bloody Mary’. Her stories would usually have Mary seem like the butt of the other characters' jokes, but in the end she’d get the last laugh. ‘And that, children, is why being right isn’t always the same as being happy.’” The line must have recalled something amusing, because Sunset laughed as if she’d just told the punchline of the world’s best joke.

Even if she didn’t get it, Rarity smiled for Sunset and her happy memories.

Sunset’s giggles faded as she looked around at the graves once more. She pointed to the one bearing the name ‘Parish Nandermane’. “Parish. Him and his cousin, Noteworthy, were the real happy sort. Always cheerful, always optimistic. But Parish was different, because he followed Moony around like a lovesick puppy. Note and me, we teased him incessantly.” Rubbing the back of her head, she sheepishly added, “We were kinda cruel about it, to be honest. Especially with the way Moony acted all aloof and distant with him.”

Her gaze shifted to Rarity. More specifically, to the weapon at her hip. Her smile changed then, nostalgia and pain mixing in her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Silver Lining yesterday. Mooney was the only one to have a custom weapon, so you’d think…” Pursing her lips, Sunset failed to meet Rarity’s gaze, instead looking at the one grave without a name. “Did you meet her?”

What a question. Rarity recalled an encounter in an isolated room, clandestine and unexpected. She touched Silver Lining, let her thumb fondly press against that ever-familiar knub. “I met… a mare. I don’t think she was the mare you remember.” She turned her gaze to the grave of Parish. The Clever Magenta, always out to prove himself to The Shrouding Midnight. Perhaps it would be best if Sunset didn’t know how fearful and paranoid her weapon’s prior owner had become.

“She wouldn’t be, would she?” Sunset sighed and looked back to the graves. “Moony never came back to Little Longhorn. I figured she was in hiding. If she’d died, it would have been news, you know?” She pursed her lips, expression growing firm. “Moony had never been one to hide. She always stood up for her beliefs. At first glance you’d think her elitist, but she was the most passionate of the Gang in her own way.”

Picking at the grass, Sunset continued quietly, “I once asked her why she never shut Parish down. If she wasn’t interested, why let him keep pursuing her?”

Rarity’s ears perked. The hopeless romantic in her, the teenager who stayed up late at night reading a mushy novel she’d spent a week’s allowance on, was trying to make a reappearance. It was nonsensical, it had no bearing on her situation, yet she couldn’t stop smiling at the little hope sparking within her.

Sunset, unaware that she now had Rarity’s full attention, smiled. “She looked at me for a long time. She would get this neutral, cold expression when she was thinking things over. Moony always paid very careful attention to her words. Her answer was, ‘Mr. Nandermane lacks the reach. He needs to grow.’ And then she smiled and said, ‘I am only his motivation.’”

By now Rarity’s smile was an all-out grin. “So she did care.”

“In her own quirky way, but yeah, she did.” Sunset at last noticed Rarity’s expression. She leaned away from her, eyebrows rising. “Uh, what’s with the look?”

Feigning offense, Rarity turned her muzzle up and away with a huff. “What? Can’t a mare indulge in a little gossip?”

“Is that what we’re doing? Gossiping?”

“No take backs! Now, who’s missing?” Rarity turned her attention to the graves, eager for another story. That excitement was doused in cold water when she spotted one name in particular. Her thoughts immediately turned to a certain freckled mare. “The Mighty Celadon…”

Sunset followed her gaze, a sudden weariness passing over her. “Mrs. Smith. Hard to forget her. A no-nonsense rough rider, that one. A storyteller, though. Loved to help Nutty with her puppet shows.” She heaved a quiet sigh. “She was the glue that held the gang together. Ponyville may have been a shock, but her death? When I heard about it, I instantly knew that…” Her swallow was audible in the quiet of the cemetery. “That the bad guys had won.”

That was always how it appeared. Applejack’s grandmother died and the world turned dark. The City States turning to isolationism, the Bad Apples steeping into every orifice of Equestria, heroes wiped away until none were left. And now there was Rarity. The Bulletproof Heart. It wasn’t the first time she wondered about her place in the unpleasant panorama that was Equestria after the Rainbow Gang.

“Did you really duel her granddaughter?”

Sunset’s question pulled Rarity out of her musings. She recalled that day in Ponyville and felt… Honestly, she wasn’t sure how to feel. Annoyance? Anger? Frustration? None of those seemed to apply. Absently, she replied, “I did, yes.”

“Wow.” Sunset leaned back, her hands in the grass as she stared at the sky. “I never met her, but I heard she’s really good.”

“That she is.” No reason not to acknowledge it. Rarity would argue that Applejack was probably better than her.

Thinking about that frustrating pony was not high on Rarity’s list of wants at the moment. Instead, she focused on the one pony neither of them had touched upon yet. “What about the Flaming Vermillion?”

“Stormy.” Another long sigh. Sunset sat up properly, focusing her attention on the grave. “She was my…” A beat as she scrunched her face up in thought. “The daughter of my mother’s aunt’s son? Something like that.” Shrugging, she once more began fiddling with the grass. Rarity got the impression she was trying to avoid looking at her. “She was sheriff of Little Longhorn for a while, back before she was part of the Rainbow Gang. That’s what I heard, anyway. I was too young to remember when she left town to go hunt a fugitive. By the time she returned, she was one of the Gang’s founding members.”

“I had no idea she was once a member of law enforcement.” Rarity tried to wrap her mind around that villain, violent and furious, being a small-town sheriff. The image was absurd. Yet there could be no denying that she’d also once been renowned Equestria-wide as a hero.

How far she must have fallen.

Sunset’s voice grew quiet, the softness of a pony not wanting to disturb the dead. “Stormy was a family mare. A husband. A daughter. She loved them so, so much. She almost quit the Gang when Spitfire was born, but her husband, Green Sprout, he knew her so well. She’d found a certain happiness with the Gang, with a life of helping others. He insisted she keep going on her adventures, that he could take care of their daughter while she was gone.” Their graves, two large and one small, almost seemed to sparkle in the bright sunlight. “Even then, she almost didn’t go to Ponyville.”

Things were quiet for a time. Sunset kept staring at the graves. Rarity tried not to stare at Sunset. Instead, she remembered what little she’d seen of The Flaming Vermillion. A wife and mother torn between the love of her family and the self-perceived responsibilities of heroism. How much had she hurt, coming home to find her family slaughtered like mere pests? Sunset said she came by to visit annually. Was every return a reopening of old wounds, making them fester and worsen until she was no better than the monsters that created her?

Rarity never wanted to be famous. Looking at the small grave of the Vermillion’s child only left her more disturbed by the prospect. She hoped that, should the time ever come, she would have enough sense to not try and be a hero.

Her ears perked. She turned her head to the faint murmuring and saw with resigned annoyance a crowd approaching the cemetery. At its head were the brothers Crater and Charming, the latter supporting the former whose leg was set in a makeshift splint. Most of the citizens following them were earth ponies, though she spotted a thestral or two in the crowd.

Sunset, still staring at the graves, made no attempt to get up. “They’re coming to punish us.” Her monotone statement put an unladylike scowl on Rarity’s lips, if only for an instant.

Comments

[Noc]

Still reading through this; excellent and spellbinding as expected. One confusing detail though; the description says this is set half a year after the events of the first book, and at the end of that Rarity and AJ seem to be on amicable terms, with Rarity’s feelings towards her having cooled to something of a friendly rivalry. So her mentions of AJ as a “frustrating pony” she didn’t want to think about seem a little harsh in that regard. Did I misread their relationship at the end of the first book? Or has AJ done something else in the meantime to get under Rarity’s skin?

[My name is R]

“Sunset, sweetie, you’ve been standing there for thirty seconds each shot looking down the sights. That will get you killed in a proper gun battle. You need to move fast.”
“If I move fast, I’ll miss.”
In a flash, Silver Lining was out of its holster. Three shots fired, three cans jumped. Rarity had looked down the sights of the weapon each time, and within three seconds the gun was back at her hip. She smirked at Sunset’s wide-eyed stare, taking a moment to flick her mane. “Practice.”
Sunset shook off her shock and dutifully put her scowl back on. “Or maybe you’re just skilled.”

Eh, I can do it in real life so I hit a person sized circle at about 20 ft. Any further than that and they aren't guaranteed hits either.

She turned her head to the faint murmuring and saw with resigned annoyance a crowd approaching the cemetery. At its head were the brothers Crater and Charming, the latter supporting the former whose leg was set in a makeshift splint. Most of the citizens following them were earth ponies, though she spotted a thestral or two in the crowd.
Sunset, still staring at the graves, made no attempt to get up. “They’re coming to punish us.” Her monotone statement put an unladylike scowl on Rarity’s lips, if only for an instant.

They can try. Last time they were at full strength, and see what that got them.
Sunset, hide behind a gravestone, fire your gun at them if you're ready, keep your head down if you're not.

11082291
She doesn't seem to still harbor the burning resentment she once did, but that means now she doesn't know what to think of her. Plus, Applejack might bring back some unpleasant memories. So even with their better standing, frustrating is still an apt description, like an adorable puppy who tore up your slippers.
At least, that's my impression.

she hoped what was coming wouldn’t be seceded by a request to leave.

succeeded