Severed Roots

by Bad_Seed_72

Bottom Of The Glass

Bottom Of The Glass

Eager to get out of the impending rain and away from the strange, haunting glances of many passerby—were those really ponies in the Manehatten streets, or zombies in fur and keratin?—Babs Seed and Apple Bloom stopped at the first hotel they saw. Comfort Inn read the shoddy lettering on the decaying sign above the door. The building was a blasphemous obelisk of concrete, rising some ten stories or more towards the Heavens. Pointing. Smiling. Smug. Nothing comfortable about it whatsoever.

“Dis one alright?” Babs asked, turning to her mare. “I know it ain’t the prettiest, but—“

“It’s good,” Apple Bloom snapped, a little too harshly. Softening her tone, she added, “Ah jus’ wanna turn in, have some dinner, an’ go ta bed as soon as we can. An’ git this over wit’, Babs.”

Nodding her agreement, Babs led the pair up the steps and opened the heavy, dusty door.

Inside the lobby, a lone reception-pony sat at a shoddy desk, low-quality nails visible and sticking out of the oak at odd, random intervals. “Welcome ta the Comfort Inn,” she droned, turning the page of a fashion magazine. The mare was young, maybe a few years older than either Apple, but spoke her words with the weariness of an elder. Barely glancing up from her page, she mumbled thickly, “Can I help youze?”

“We need a room fo’ the night.” Removing her saddlebag, Babs fished around for a bit-jar and removed the lid. “How much?”

“Twenty bits,” answered the receptionist while staring at a perfume advertisement.

“Twenty?!” Babs felt her hackles rising. “We pay less than dat fo' a week back at the inn out west!”

Unfazed, the receptionist said, “Twenty bits. Take it o’ leave it.”

“Ah’m sorry,” Apple Bloom said, scrunching her snout. “Is there a… cheaper inn ‘round here? An’ maybe a…” She glanced around the lobby, cobwebs gathering in the corners of the ceiling and fading, peeling wallpaper completing the ambiance. “Nicer one?”

Closing her magazine, the receptionist glared at Apple Bloom and scowled. “Dis is the cheapest hotel ‘round, mare. Take it o’ leave it.”

Flushed with anger, Babs lurched forward. “’Ey! Don’t youze talk ta her dat way!”

Apple Bloom face-hoofed, pulling Babs by the left shoulder. Not this ‘gain, she thought grimly. “That’ll be jus’ fine, ma’am,” she muttered, wrestling the conversation away. They’d barely been inside the lobby a minute, and she could already feel the heat of the mare’s glare, the venom rushing through her veins. And Babs wasn’t faring too well, either.

Babs shook her muzzle and began to pack up her saddlebag. “No, Bloom, let’s jus’ go some—“

Clink, clink. “That should be twenty bits, ma’am.”

“… Nevamind,” Babs Seed grunted, shaking dust from her mane. Horseapples. Dis place is a dump. An’ she already paid. Buuuuuck.

“Thank youze. At least one o’ youze has manners.” The receptionist sneered. Reaching for a drawer full of keys, she located one and passed it to Apple Bloom. “Youze in luck. Room 203. Second floor, up the stairway ta youze left. All the othas are up on tenth floor o’ higha, but I’ll give youze dis last one fo’ bein’ polite.”

Sticking her tongue out at the receptionist, Babs was the one to follow this time. Mentally cursing just about everything with a vocabulary that would make Discord blush, she stomped her way up the stairwell behind Apple Bloom, certain that the floorboards would rot and bottom out beneath her.

~

The room proved to be better kept than the lobby. Although it was small, about the same size as their room out west, it at least had a bathroom and running water. Both mares hadn't been graced with indoor plumbing in ages and welcomed the sight. After the initial unpacking and a quick shower, Apple Bloom relaxed on the bed, while Babs Seed took to pacing.

One side of the tiny room to the other, back and forth she trotted, thinking, thinking. Tomorrowa. We have ta wait until tomorrowa. What iffa summat happens? I swear, lotsa ponies were lookin’ at us strange… why? What iffa summat happens out west ‘gain? I can’t… I can’t lose any mo’ friends, o’ family.

“Babs… Ah brought some cider an’ apple pie…” Grinning, Apple Bloom patted the bed beside her and pulled her saddlebag onto it with her jaws. “See?” She held the bottle and laid it beside her. “C’mere, relax… you've been tense all day.”

“I’m fine,” Babs snapped, turning around before resuming her pacing. Her furrowed brow and scowling muzzle declared otherwise.

With a frustrated sigh, Apple Bloom snapped back, “What’s yer problem, Babs? Ah swear, you’ve been so surly an’ rude since we got here.”

“What do youze expect from me, Bloom?” Rounding on her, Babs barked, “I hate dis damn place. I don’t wanna be heeya! An’,” she added, “I know youze don’t wanna be, eitha. I told youze ta go an’ stay wit’ AJ fo’ a while o’ summat.”

“Ah’m not gonna leave ya here, an’ ya know it.” Biting her tongue, Apple Bloom swallowed her anger and tried once more, offering honey instead of the vinegar in her veins. “Please, Babs. Let’s jus’ have a nice dinner an’ relax. We’ll sleep early an’ talk ta the detective in the mornin’.” She hopped off the bed and threw a forehoof around her thick neck, smiling as seductively as she could. “Please… Babsy?”

Not gonna work dis time. Thicker in the skull, Babs shook Apple Bloom off and stomped towards the door. “I’m goin’ out. I need ta take a walk.”

“W-w-what?” Apple Bloom followed after her. “What's wrong? Was it somethin’ Ah said?”

Buck. Don’t youze get it? Turning around, Babs faked a sad smile and answered with a half-truth. “No, Apple Bloom. Everythin’s fine. I jus’ wanna get some air, alright?”

Staring at the floorboards, Apple Bloom dug a hoof into the creaking wood and reluctantly agreed, “Alright. Jus’ git back—“

SLAM!

“… Soon." She was talking to the wall. Babs Seed was already gone.

~

Surrounded by seven armed guards, Card Slinger was nonetheless tense. His eyes darted back and forth in the shadows of the ghetto as he and his entourage passed slumbering boarded-up buildings and ramshackle apartments. The cobblestone under his hooves echoed with each step in a familiar tempo.

Everything was the same. Everything was different. He stared at a passed-out drunk in the streets and remembered words long forgotten, spoken by somepony many called a sage.

Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.

“Boss?” One of his cronies hung his muzzle low and whispered into the ear of his King. “Boss?”

“What?!” he hissed back, furrowing his brow.

CLINK!

Eight heads snapped to the source of the noise. Lying a few feet ahead in their path was a solitary stone—another speckle of gray rippling through a vast sea of concrete. Just a stone. No glowing eyes in the dark. No ambush.

Nothing to be concerned about.

Card Slinger scoffed, irritated, and gestured for his guards to carry on.

Turning to the nosy one as they picked up their pace, he said again, “What?! What is it? Youze betta make dis quick, Dodge. I ain’t in no chattin’ mood.”

Dodge, one of the more amicable guards on his payroll, nodded and bowed his head low. “Boss… ’bout all dis ta-night… Are youze… youze plannin’ ta—“

WHUMP!

Dodge stifled a pained cry and rubbed his snout. Message delivered. Submitting to his second master, he nodded in silent affirmation and strode away from Slinger, taking his place at the front of the pack.

Spitting on the ground, Slinger mumbled under his breath, “Youze’ll see. Youze’ll all see.”

His gaze found the Mansion in the distance, and he spat again.

Above him came a rush of thermals and a mighty flapping of wings.

~

Shooting the receptionist with another dirty look on her way out, Babs Seed burst into the dark streets of Manehatten. Stormclouds above threatened to cleanse the city of its sin. Preferring not to be caught in the rain—it's gotta come sometime, ain't it?—she left the steps of the Comfort Inn and steered back towards the police station.

Dis is wrong. Dis is wrong. Youze lyin' ta her, an' dis is wrong. Street vendors packed up their carts for the day, racing the falling sun. She wove through a thick crowd of teenage fillies and colts, clamoring amongst themselves and filling the streets with their laughter. Babs made her way back into the rumbling belly of the hungry beast, a hunger of her own driving her hooves.

Or, rather, a thirst.

The angel on her shoulder plead its case. Youze gonna worry her. "Take a walk"? Ha! Dat's a lie an' youze know it. C'mon, youze jus' runnin'... runnin' like youze always have. Can't do it always, can youze?

On the opposite and wounded shoulder, a trickster-devil of her conscience poked and prodded. C'mon. Youze need ta relax, don't youze? Jus' pop in fo' a few minutes, a quick sip, clear youze head... youze'll be back in no time, an' Apple Bloom will have forgot youze lil' tantrum, anyway.

Here, in Manehatten, Babs Seed stumbled, giving in to the suggestion, ignoring the better angel of her nature.

She considered turning back once The Big Orange came into full view. Last chance, said the angel. C'mon... youze know dis ain't right... Stopping in her tracks, she turned around.

"I shouldn't be heeya," she mumbled to nopony in particular. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. C'mon, whispered temptation again. Youze had a rough day. Jus' one lil' drink won't hurt. It'll help youze relax.

... Well, Babs rationalized, I do need ta relax.

Her decision made, Babs Seed quickly crossed the street and ducked into The Big Orange, looking back all the while. Apple Bloom wasn't following. She was on a walk, after all. That's all. There would be no reason to follow after her. She was being responsible. Reasonable. She'd taken a walk, and gotten thirsty along the way. One quick drink would not only be forgivable, it would be understandable.

Trotting in slowly, Babs marveled at the bar's architecture. It bore all the trademarks of a working-class pub: tools from various trades, street signs, simplistic paintings, and faded photographs decorated the walls. Directly above the bar counter hung a shotgun mounted on a cherry-wood plaque. Two pool tables in opposite corners of the bar drew most of the attention, groups of stallions crowded around both and throwing bits on the felt. A few other customers gathered near the back, rolling dice and counting bits. Most of the patrons appeared to be Earth ponies.

Babs's face fell. Damn. It's kinda like... how ours was...

"Why, 'ello there!" called a cheerful stallion's voice.

Babs shook out of her trance and turned around. Behind the counter, a brown Earth pony stallion with a coal-black mane waved her over. He wore a white apron and black bowtie, an enormous smile on his muzzle. He cleaned a beer stein and greeted, "'Ello! You must be new 'ere! Never seen your muzzle 'round these parts."

"Heh, yeah... I'm jus'... passin' through," she muttered, taking inventory of the liquors and labels on the shelves. Gin, rum, vodka, whiskey... no cider. No Daniel's. Applejack did say she had trouble gettin' sales heeya. Dat's weird. Don't seem ta be any apple products. Strange...

"Please, my dear. Have a seat," the bartender offered, gesturing to one of the bar stools. Shrugging, Babs climbed up and stretched, staring intensely at the liquor shelves again. Not one speck of Apple Family product could be found.

"Excuse me," said a mare's voice. "Is this seat taken?"

"Eh?" Babs turned around. A light-green pegasus mare with a light-blue mane, wineglass in forehoof, beamed and placed her other forehoof on the stool directly next to her. "Uh, no. It's not taken," Babs said, forcing a slight smile.

The mare giggled and hopped up onto a stool. She down her glass and leaned forward, resting her head on her forehooves. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help it... You said you're just passing through Manehatten?"

"Dat's right."

"Oh, a traveler, are you? Oh, we can most certainly relate, can't we?" she said, turning to the bartender, smiling wide enough to split her muzzle.

The stallion laughed merrily. "Most definitely, Flicker! Two travelers we are, indeed." He gasped and shifted to his newest customer. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Where are my manners? Welcome to The Big Orange, lovely! Summat I can get fo' you to drink, Miss, uh...?"

"Babs Seed. An' I'll jus' have vodka on the rocks," Babs said quickly, trying her best not to look at the pegasus mare. Sheesh... take a picture o' summat...

"Citrus or plain, Babs?" asked the bartender, grabbing a glass from beneath the counter.

With a snort, Babs replied, "Jus' plain." Who the hay puts citrus in vodka? Horseapples, dat sounds downright disgustin'. "So," she began, focusing on the stallion, "can I ask youze a question?"

He nodded and passed her a bowl of pretzels. "O' course, love. Here, have a snack."

"Thanks." Crunching down a hoof-full of pretzels while he measured out the perfect portion of vodka to accompany her ice, she asked, "Why don't youze have anythin' but..." Squinting, she double-checked the labels on the shelves and finished, "Orange fo' flavorin'?"

"Why, it's the most popular flavor," answered the stallion simply. He smirked and brought a forehoof to his muzzle. "And our suppliers are quite generous with wholesale pricing. Stuff practically sells itself at that point."

He finished the drink and set it down in front of Babs Seed, trotting away with a wink and a smile. "Let me know if you need anything else, lovely. I do hope you enjoy your stay in Manehatten, Babs Seed."

"Heh, thanks, uh... sir," she mumbled. Horseapples, I didn't get his name. Ah, well. He's gonna be busy ta-night anyway.

Flicker giggled and leaned even closer. Uh... dat's weird. Taking a small sip, Babs shrugged and tried to ignore the sweat rolling down her nape and the growing heat on her muzzle.

"So..." Edging closer in her stool, Flicker winked, her wings extending to full length as she approached. She murmured, sultry, "Where are you from, cutie?"

"U-uh!" Alarms of all sorts activating in Babs Seed's mind, she tightened her grip on her glass and turned to face the pegasus, fumbling for a reply. Stop it! What's wrong wit' youze?! I know she's pretty, but—dammit, mind, stop betrayin' me!

After a long, awkward silence, Babs stammered, "M-me an' m-ma mare are f-from P-Ponyville."

Flicker instantly recoiled, her nostrils flaring. "Oh. You and... your marefriend?"

Babs swallowed. Dammit! Stop! "Y-yes, ma'am."

"Oh, I see. What a shame," she grumbled, taking a sip of her wine. With a sigh, she drummed a forehoof on the counter and proceeded to ignore her previous object of flirtation.

Sheesh. Glad dat's ova. Babs Seed sat in silence, watching a game at one of the pool tables. Stallions of all statures and colors roared with laughter and clamor, bits exchanging hooves, bets won and lost. Shaking her muzzle, she stared into her vodka, taking another drink. A longer one. The liquor burned its way down her throat, leaving fire in her belly.

Even as a bartender, she'd never been too much of a drinker, but figured one wasn't going to be enough tonight. Back heeya, in dis Celestia-damned place... I feel sick... I feel weird... I jus' wanna get outta heeya. Why wasn't dat damn detective there? She sure as shit ain't doin' her job right iffa things are as dey are.

Sighing, Babs downed the rest of her drink, chasing the ice. Maybe dat Triage was jus' full o' it. Maybe—

"Fo' the last time, Rustla, maybe youze should jus' lighten up!"

"An' fo' the last time, Toss, maybe youze should jus' grow up an' pay buckin' attention! Don't youze see what's goin' on heeya?!"

Oh, great.

From the corner of her eye, Babs watched the two officers, both still cloaked in Manehatten blue and silver, continue their verbal spat, trotting into the bar and trading daggers with each other. Babs hunched over her drink and tucked her bobtail between her hindlegs, praying against all hope that Lucky Toss wouldn't see her, that she could just maybe have one more round and then—

"Babs! I thought youze wasn't comin'!" Toss shouted excitedly, smacking her playfully on the shoulder. The stallion pulled up a stool right beside her, a big, goofy grin on his muzzle. He pounded on the counter and called out, "'Ey! Bartenda! A round o' citrus beer fo' me an' ma friend heeya!"

"Oh, Toss..." Flicker rose from her stool and trotted over to the patrol officer, smirking. “I’m so glad you made it tonight. The Big Orange is nothing without you... you big orange.” She giggled into her wine and winked at the stallion.

Babs face-hoofed. She should get punished fo’ dat one.

His muzzle flushing, Lucky Toss brushed a forehoof over his uniform and brought it up to his chest. “Well, Flicka, ain’t it nice ta see a pretty muzzle ‘round heeya. Well, along wit’ Babs, o’ course.”

Babs rolled her eyes. “Leave me outta dis,” she mumbled, swirling the ice in her empty glass. No way I can get outta dis now. Dey gonna be chattin’ it up... ugggh...

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Flicker joked, placing a forehoof on Lucky’s shoulder. “So... what took you so long, big stallion?

Pointing at the stallion beside him, Toss explained, "Dis one caught me on ma way out an' wanted ta talk politics wit' me! But politics neva been ma thing. 'Ey, Rustla?"

Her ears flattening at the mention of the name Rustla, Flicker caressed Lucky’s chin and said gruffly, “I'll be playing pool if you need me, sweetie."

“Ahhh, alright,” Toss replied, frowning. “I’ll be there soon. Jus’ give me a bit, alright?” He watched her slink away, giggling, his jaw slightly agape and a little river of saliva following.

Babs clapped her forehooves in front of his face. “‘Ey! Lovaboy! Wake up!”

“Huh?” Lucky muttered, a dreamy expression on his muzzle. “Oh!” He chuckled and fumbled with the buttons on his uniform, searching for a distraction. “Oh... Heh, s-sorry. Anyway... Rustla, youze met Babs Seed befo'?"

Wait... Rustla? Could it... could it be?

Turning in her seat, Babs Seed sized up the other law-pony. Dark blue mane. Light blue coat. Blue eyes, steely with determination. He was indeed the same colt he'd been all those years ago, having grown into his own—strong, tall, a cutiemark of a silver shield on his flank.

"Well, I'll be damned," Babs mused, a grin spreading across her muzzle. "Youze look jus' like when youze were a colt. 'Cept dat, o' course," she added, gesturing to his cutiemark. "Dat's new!"

Officer Rustler raised a suspicious eyebrow. "I thought youze seemed familiar. Youze haven't changed eitha, Babs Seed."

"How youze been?" Babs asked.

"Jus' fine," Rustler shot back, making no movement to join her at the bar.

Paying the bartender for two citrus beers, Lucky Toss passed one to Babs and brought the other to his lips. After a quick, deep gulp, he wiped his mouth and said pointedly, "Awww, c'mon, Rustla! Join us fo' a beer o' two. Catch up. We all rememba each otha, an' it's been so long, youze know?"

"Yes, it has," Rustler said, his lips drawing back in a scowl. Shifting to Babs Seed, he inquired gruffly, "Do youze want ta know what became o' youze lil' club, all those years 'go, Babs?"

Choking down a sip of the beer—horseapples, dat is foul—Babs sputtered, "S-s-sure! I always did wonda what happened ta all o' youze." Which was true. Curiosity, however, never compelled her enough to journey back to the concrete jungle of Manehatten. Promises she'd made then (and only broke now in the most extreme of circumstances) kept her far and away, among other reasons.

"Let's see." Babs brought a forehoof to her chin. "There was... youze, an'... anotha colt, an' two fillies. But I mostly rememba youze. Youze were quite the vocal one."

"Dat's our Rustla!" Toss whooped and took another gulp of his beer. "Always talkin', always analyzin'! Dat's why the Chief made youze an investigator!" He laid a forehoof on the other stallion's shoulder. "Blabbermouth, dat's youze!"

Rustler pushed the forehoof away and glared at his brother in the badge. "Dat's not why. He appointed me ta internal investigator because I'm good at siftin' through youze nonsense." Frowning, he said to Babs Seed, "Don't let dis one fool youze. He's still the bully he was back then ta youze an' me."

"'Ey! I went ta the Academy, I ran the gamut. I got ma badge. An' I learned a lot from when I was a scoundrel an' a thug."

"Whateva," Rustler dismissed, ignoring him. His eyes narrowed further when they fixated on the mare again, eight years of his own questions battling within. "As fo' youze... How could youze jus' leave like dat?"

Seriously? "Rustla," Babs began slowly, passing the half-empty bottle of citrus beer between her forehooves, "dat was a long time 'go. A lot o' things—"

"Ponies said youze moved ta Appleloosa. Was dat true, Babs?"

"No, but—"

"Why did youze even botha wit' us, iffa youze were jus' gonna leave? Huh?" The investigator sneered, his nostrils flaring in anger. He stomped a few hoof-steps closer to them with no intent on joining them in a friendly round. Lucky Toss had been and always would be a bully and a beast; he was not to be trusted. And Babs Seed left huge horseshoes to fill—something Rustler, deep down, feared he had failed to accomplish.

After all, as one of two remaining Cutie Mark Crusaders, it all seemed for naught in the end.

Slamming his beer onto the counter, Lucky turned in his stool and warned, "Rustla, drop it. Dat was long time 'go. We were jus' foals then. I'm sure Babs had a good reason fo' doin' what she did."

"Thank youze," Babs replied, nodding to him. To Rustler, she asked again, "What happened ta all o' youze, Rustla? I'm sorry I wasn't 'round, but—"

Officer Rustler leaned close to her, pressing his muzzle against hers. Deep, sapphire eyes brimming and blazing with rage, his hackles raised, he growled and said grimly, "Dey all gone. Dey dead."

Sure she'd gone insane or deaf or both, Babs stammered, "W-what?!" But! Dey ma age! Our age! How? Youze gotta be pullin' ma hooves!

Rustler began to snarl a reply, but thought the better of it. Backing up on his hindhooves, he cursed, "Buck youze both. Always runnin'. While I clean up youze shit." Thirst forgotten, the investigator tossed one last glare at his fellow officer, then took to his hooves, galloping out of The Big Orange.

Shaking slightly, Babs placed her empty beer back on the counter and called for another. Dead? Dey dead? Fl... Flora? Quick Step? Turn Key? All o' dem? But how? An' why? A rough fetlock found her shoulder, patting her reassuringly.

"'Ey," Toss said, lowering his voice, "don't worry 'bout him. Rustla's had a stick up his rear fo' Celestia knows how long 'bout anythin' an' everythin'. He don't get along wit' nopony. It's nothin' 'gainst youze. What we did as foals was... Well, it's the past, right?" He gave her another pat on the shoulder before pulling away.

Liquor beginning to cast its spell, making her light of hoof and thought—or was that something else?—Babs nodded weakly, although she didn't fully agree. The past is the past, but it seems like it doesn't wanna stay there. "Toss... Is what he said, though, 'bout the Crusadas... Is dat true?"

The bartender arrived with two more beers, both of which were eagerly accepted. Sighing, Lucky replied sorrowfully, "I'm 'fraid it is. City swallows a lot o' us. An' he's been workin' on dem two cases himself. Poor stallion."

"Yes..." Staring at the floorboards, Babs whispered, "Poor Rustla." Even iffa Toss is right, an' he is an ass, dat... dat's still awful. Hay, I barely knew dem, an'... Horseapples. I can't even put it inta thoughts.

In silent synchronization, Babs and Toss took a long, deep drink of their beer. The brew tasted awful, almost unpalatable on Babs Seed's tongue. Nevertheless, with each passing sip, she felt her anxiety and anger dissipate. Citrus liquor was an affront to all she knew, and drunkenness even more so. Babs Seed the bar-pony had never been drunk.

A trickster voice at the back of her mind decided to change that.

~

For the next two hours, Babs Seed bonded with one of her foalhood bullies, empty bottles of citrus beer piling up beside them. Lucky Toss recounted what he'd done in the wake of his then-best-friend's arrest. He didn't bother to mention him by name. Both of them knew. Even when speaking of him vaguely, his anger seethed below the surface, evident in the furrow of his brow and the slow tempo of his words.

Babs Seed, when asked, told the stallion she'd moved to Ponyville, and nothing more. There was simply too much story to tell, and the more and more she chased the yeast, the less any of it seemed to matter. Troubles, worries... that strange, sickening feeling in her stomach... all came to pass.

And time, of course, ticked by slowly, almost two hours creeping by before Babs finally looked up at a clock on the wall. "Aw, horseapples," she spat, swaying in her stool.

"What's wrong?" Toss tipped back his bottle and drained the last of his beer. "Need ta take a leak?"

She snort-laughed and shook her muzzle. "No! Haha! Good one, though. Naw, I need ta get back ta the hotel. I told Bloom I was goin' fo' a walk."

"Really? Shit." Spitting on the floor, Toss unbuttoned the top button of his uniform and smirked. "She's gonna be pissed when youze get back. Tell her 'ey fo' me, alright?"

Hopping off the stool, stumbling on her hooves, Babs leaned against the bar and chuckled. "I ain't tellin' her nothin'! Far as she knows, I walked ta the city limits an' traced the train-tracks until I thought betta o' it."

Taking his empty bottle in a forehoof, Toss gesticulated wildly and snorted. "Youze an' me both, pal. Horseapples, I hate dis place. So much chaos, anytime, anywhere. Weather sucks too. Everypony's a brute o' some sort. Hay, once I save up enough bits, I'm gonna get the buck outta dis place. Move out west o' summat."

"West?"

"Yea." Lucky grinned. Pulling himself off the stool and onto his hooves, he explained, "Lots o' ponies I know headin' out there. Lots o' opportunity, free land, free livin'. Peace an' quiet too."

Babs rubbed the back of her neck and looked away. "Heh. Funny youze should say dat."

"Why? Oh!" His eyes lighting up, Lucky hopped a bit on his hooves excitedly. "Youze from there, ain't youze? Oh, Celestia, youze gotta tell me all 'bout—"

"It ain't safe no mo'," Babs said, digging a forehoof into the floorboards. "Dat's why I'm heeya, Toss. Why me an' Bloom are heeya." Turning to face him, she frowned and sighed. "There was some... shootin's out there."

"Shootin's? Wild-west shootouts?"

"No. Like... assaults. Attacks. Invasions."

Officer Lucky Toss gulped and sat on his haunches, silent.

"Yes... Two o' ma best friends are not wit' us 'cuz o' it." Liquid courage tempering the impact of her words and recollections, Babs Seed continued, "An' it ain't nothin' nopony out there is doin'. Sure, there's some crime an' clashin', but it's nothin' like dat. Dem perpetrators are from heeya. An' I think I know who dey are."

Whistling low, the stallion shook his muzzle and groaned. "Sheesh. Well, I'm real sorry ta hear dat, Babs. Tell youze what." Flinging a forehoof across her neck, he vowed, "I'll do ma best ta make sure Dove sees youze an' helps youze two. An' I'll do ma best, anyway I can."

Returning the gesture, Babs smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank youze, Lucky. Now, iffa youze don't mind," she said, slipping out of his grasp, "I'd betta be gettin' home befo' ma mare gets too worried."

"Youze sure youze don't need an escort? Eh? Police professional?" Lucky Toss teased, removing his baton and flicking it to full length.

The pair burst into a series of hearty laughs, smacking their bellies and forgetting their roots. Former bully and former victim exchanged pleasantries, well wishes in the night. Their intoxication assisted their camaraderie, and Babs Seed thought through her haze as she stumbled out the door, Maybe dis was a good idea, afta all.

Meanwhile, as she slowly made her way back to the Comfort Inn—tripping over her hooves, falling deeper and deeper into the forehooves of yeast—Apple Bloom resumed her pacing and looked at the clock for the umpteenth time that night.

~

CRASH! THUD! WHUMP!

A set of leather-bound encyclopedias he’d never read and never would. A statue of a pair of rampant golden lions, rising to their haunches against a field of azure. His hoof-carved chess set, each piece painted painstakingly perfect and inscribed with his initials. All found its way to the floor, tearing and shattering and smashing.

Drowning his rage in whiskey, Card Slinger threw his mane back and howled to the ceiling, howled to the moon, howled like the timberwolf he was. He was no monster, or even a mad-pony. He was a bloodthirsty beast, hell-bent on vengeance, distributing his anger amongst all the things he’d purchased in exchange for his soul.

On his mahogany desk laid a simple letter, one that had sent his mood spiraling from a smug satisfaction and brooding contemplation to outright rage.

“MADHOOF! MAAAAAAAAAADHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!”

Bucking his hindhooves, Card Slinger toppled an entire bookshelf to the floor. Rearing on those same iron hooves, he stomped down and smashed it in two. Splinters embedded in his fetlocks, but the adrenaline in his veins prevented any semblance of pain from reaching his fetid mind.

“MADHOOF! YOUZE BUCKIN’ PIECE O’ SHIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

A simple letter. A simple letter threw a wrench into his carefully thought-out system. Simple parchment and ink defied his ace in the hole, the dealer winking and revealing his wild card. His five of a kind. His impossibility.

His entire team of guards stood fast by the door, weapons at the ready. Exchanging nervous glances, they made no motion to enter the office. Dodge’s bruise was black and deep. Another guard still nursed a sprained forelimb.

Screeching, howling, giving into primal and ancient anger, Card Slinger grabbed a priceless painting and flung it across the room. It smacked against the opposite wall, shattering its glass case and marring its surface. Madhoof’s every injustice and smirk and sneer and insult and injury coursing through his veins, Card Slinger moved to the desk next, pulling out the drawers and locating his stash. His addiction.

A bottle of whiskey. Applejack Daniel’s. The last. The stolen.

The final.

All because of this… because of this… Boone…

“BASTARD!”

The bottle sliced through the air, a hell-bound missile shattering into a million little pieces on the floor. The thick scent of fresh whiskey filled his nostrils and teased him. But the timberwolf Slinger rose triumphant above the alcoholic Slinger, and made no motion to greedily lap it up out of the carpet, as he would’ve in his lesser years.

Fuming, the stallion grabbed the letter on his desk and re-read it for the thousandth time.

It simply stated:

“One week from today. Appleloosa by Luna.

Lesser Knights left one meddler. Take care of him. Wait and bide, and then strike.

It was a beautiful night for a flight.”

No signature was necessary. The parchment reeked of night air. Of feathers.

Card Slinger crumpled the letter in his forehooves. “No.” He grunted, shaking his muzzle in response to an imaginary Madhoof. “No. No mo’. No mo’. No.

“Youze stole everythin’ from me. I ain’t doin’ it no mo’.”

He stared at the crumpled-up parchment, then shoved it down his venomous maw. Chewed. Resisted the urge to vomit. Chewed some more. A week. A week? That was all? A week to topple the Master from above? A week for revenge? A week for redemption?

Not enough.

Card Slinger heaved. Shoving his forehooves over his mouth, he willed his jaws to cooperate, to chew, chew, chew. A week. A week. His troops in the hundreds. Madhoof’s... more. He wasn’t sure how many. But he couldn’t do this…

Not alone…

The ink was foul, staining the roof of his mouth and his tongue and his teeth and oh Celestia was it foul. Chew. Chew. Sawdust in his mouth. There was sawdust in his mouth.

A week. A week. A week until he would be dead.

There was sawdust in his mouth and the ink was so bitter and rancid. He chewed. Chew. Chew.

Until he would join his best and only friend.

Ponies went to the desert to die.

Chew, chew, chew.

Like they had, so long ago…

Chew, chew, chew.

Even though nopony could prove it.

He heaved again, fighting the urge to vomit. It was so strong, so incredibly strong, and everything was sick and wrong and disgusting and awful and—

OhforCelestia’ssakepleasechew,pleasechewpleaseswallowit’ssawdust,sawdustinmymouthandinksofoulandittastessodamnawful,ittasteslikehimandheissinandIamsinandweareallbeforethesaltandfireandpleaseifYouaretherepleasemakeitst—

Card Slinger swallowed the letter.

Collapsing to his stomach, he commanded his esophagus to comply, and forced it down. Swallowed again and again. Swallowed. Let it become him. Part of him. The last order.

The last order, which he would never fulfill.

Fearing the worst, Dodge knocked on his King's mahogany. Fearing the silence. Fearing what it may mean for them all.

“Boss? Youze alright?”

“D-Dodge!” he choked, battling his stomach.

The bruised guard called back, “Yes, it's me! Are youze alright, ma King?”

“Don’t open the door!” Slinger coughed and hacked, spitting ink into his forehooves. “Don’t—don’t youze open the door, iffa youze know what’s good fo’ youze!”

Struggling to his hooves, Card Slinger bellowed, “Whoeva wants ta get in ma graces, I got a favor fo’ youze slime!” He stumbled as he rose, tasting bitter acid in his mouth. “Hack! Somepony—hack!—send a message ta the Mafia Don. ASAP! I’m comin’ ta meet ‘im tomorrowa night at midnight, his choice where. Unarmed.”

A clamor of stricken, surprised exclamations rose outside his door. “SHUDDUP!” Slinger shouted, bracing himself against a hole-ridden wall. “Shuddup an’ do as I say! O’… O’… It’s youze head! It’s youze head on a platta, got it?!”

When nopony immediately replied, Slinger bellowed once more, “GOT IT?!”

Various shouts of “Yes, sir!” and “Yes, ma King!” brought a smug smirk to his countenance. He took deep, heaving breaths, enjoying the sensation of the cold drywall against his fur and skin. Card Slinger grinned, taking in the sight of his destroyed office.

Madhoof’s bits, all gone to waste. Destroyed. Shattered. Broken. Wasted.

“Tomorrowa,” he whispered to himself. “Tomorrowa, me an’ the Don gonna strike up a nice lil’ deal, an’ gonna put youze bastard ta sleep. Sleep wit’ fishes an’ the flames.” He brought his forehooves together and rubbed them back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

“Enough… enough… enough…” A mantra, repeated on endless loop.

Behind the irises and engorged blood vessels, his eyes began to turn yellow.

“No mo’.”

~

SLAM!

"There ya are!" Apple Bloom huffed, rising from the bed in the corner of the hotel room. She stomped towards her visitor, a swaying Babs Seed, her emerald eyes half-visible through heavy eyelids and a laughing muzzle.

"Heh... hic! O' course I'm heeeya... where... hic! Else wooould I beeee?" Babs slurred, almost tripping over her own hooves. She stumbled from the door, sniggering like a schoolfilly at her mare's unimpressed muzzle. Vodka had worked its magic. She was light as a feather, practically gliding across the floor.

Stomping a forehoof, Apple Bloom demanded, "What's so damn funny?! Ah've been waitin' fer ya fer hours, Babs! There's no way in Tartarus it took ya that damn long ta jus' go fer a damn walk!"

With a hiccup and a sway, Babs repeated, dumbfounded, "Walk?"

"Yes, Babs," hissed Apple Bloom, gritting her teeth. Approaching her, she said harshly, "You said you were goin' fer a walk, an' ya'd be back soon! Didn't ya say that?! Ah swear ya did!"

Horseapples, what's her problem? "'Ey! I went fo' a walk! I even... I got us dinna! Why, it's..."

Slinging off her saddlebag, Babs Seed blinked hazily, concentrating. The bag at her forehooves fell lazily over, nothing within to hold it steady. A shaky, panicked forehoof rifled through it. I got summat from the bar befo' I left, right? O' afta? I went ta dat store... right? "It's s'posed ta be right—hic!—heeya, I told Toss I would—"

"Toss?!" Apple Bloom flared her nostrils. "So that's where ya were—wanderin' 'round wit' that goon, leavin' me worried sick here?!" Anger rising, she drew closer and closer to her mare, ears flattened, muscles clenching. "We turned him down already ta go... go drink! An' you went anyway! Were ya plannin' this the whole time, huh?!"

Babs Seed paused, noting the contours of her mare's body for what seemed like the very first time. She was lithe, sleek, perfect in timing and rhythm with each step of her soft, elegant hooves—dangerous and moving. Her eyes, her mane, her coat—the colors of sunset, all beautiful, intoxicating, permeating deeper than the liquor that coursed through her blood. Apple Bloom was truly the most beautiful mare she'd ever seen, or would see.

Ma mare.

Babs Seed remained still and silent, following her with her eyes, drinking in all of her.

Mine.

Everything rushed at once—all the stress, turmoil, disappointment and anger snowballed into one unignorable rage. Babs Seed had lied to her. Not tried to protect her. Not denied her own truth. She'd lied.

Apple Bloom stomped forward again. "Well?! Don't you have somethin' ta say fer yourself?!"

Her voice. Usually soprano, dropping a little alto, approaching. Closer, closer. The scent of her breath, her mane, her fur. Sweet. Apple blossoms on a spring tree. Hypnotizing. Filling her nostrils.

Apple Bloom glared into her, raising a forehoof to Babs's muzzle and pulling her down and forward. "Well?!" she demanded again, shaking her slightly.

Then, after an intoxicated fortnight of silence, Babs Seed smirked and wiggled out of her grasp. She brushed her muzzle into her shoulders and side, trotting slowly, committing her scent and texture to memory.

Blushing at the sudden contact, Apple Bloom exclaimed, "Babs! What are ya doin'?!"

Her voice again. Curious, but with a hint of anger behind it. Babs giggled and flicked her tail under her mare's chin, tickling softly. "Yooouze kn-know," she slurred, brushing against her other side, enjoying the sensation of their coats crossing, "i-iffa yooouze wanted some 'ttention, yooouze coulda jus' a-a-asked..."

Apple Bloom's ears flared and her pupils dilated. "What?!" She began to turn her head around, only to be met by Babs's lips mashing hungrily against hers. "Mmmmmf!" A tongue—wet, thick, tasting of alcohol—invaded her mouth, parting her lips.

Drunkenly maneuvering a forehoof onto her lover's back, Babs began to direct Apple Bloom towards the bed. She closed her eyes, mind flooded and overwhelmed by liqour and lust, pulling her deeper and deeper into the apathetic, welcoming blackness, where there were no more shootings, no more criminals, no more wounds, just—

"Mmmffff! Babs!" Escaping from her grasp, Apple Bloom stared at her lover in shock, planting her hindhooves against the bed frame. "Ah don't—what's gotten inta ya?! Don't ya think Ah'm jus' gonna let ya—"

"Oh, soooo youze gonna play dat way, huh?" Sniggering and shorting, almost losing her vodka in her glee, Babs strode around her mare, then climbed up on top of her back. "Oh ho ho, youze naughty—"

"Babs! Git off me! We're not doin' this right now!" Seething with anger, Apple Bloom planted all four hooves firmly on the shoddy floorboards and arched her back, hoping Babs would take the hint.

A low, gruff voice slurring near her ear, "Ma naughty mare," denied that request. And in those words, Apple Bloom brought forth all the pieces of Babs Seed's strange puzzle and completed the grotesque picture before her.

Liquor on her breath. Swaying hooves. Slurred words. Fumbling forehooves snaking around her waist, and rough, sharp teeth making their way across her ears and shoulders.

Babs was drunk. Completely drunk. Drunk out of her mind.

This was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Nevertheless, Apple Bloom was a mare of many weaknesses, the primary one being the giggling, nibbling one on top of her. She let out a high-pitched squeak at the first contact of teeth on cartilage. She began to relax at the second, her muzzle flushing into a deeper scarlet.

Wrong or not, she wanted this, she needed this... She'd wanted this for far too long lately, and wasn't going to pass it up by any means. It was too dark and cold to chase this little sliver of light away.

Surrendering, she murmured her name and arched her back. "Ba... Babs..."

Aggressive adrenaline accumulating in her arteries, Babs Seed opted for a bold step, moving from her mare's ears to her neck. She gathered as much of her scruff nape as she could between her jaws.

And bit down. Hard.

"Aaah!" Apple Bloom shrieked, white-hot pain proliferating from her neck. She snapped her head around and glared up at her partner. "Babs! Yer bein' too rough!"

Rolling her eyes, the intoxicated mare snapped back, "Oh, quit youze—"

WHUMP!

Babs Seed was on her back before she even realized how she'd got there.

A pair of strong forehooves pinned her chest into the floorboards, slamming angrily into her, eliciting a delayed YELP! of surprise. "What in tarnation's wrong wit' you?!" Apple Bloom pressed her muzzle against Babs Seed's, staring her down.

Confused, Babs looked helplessly up into the wildfires of Apple Bloom's eyes. Twin flames they were, blazing, burning, boring down into her. She began to raise her forehooves, only to have them pinned as well. Horseapples. Youze's strong. Holy... Coughing weakly, she slurred, "Bloom... I... Icanexplaaaain—"

"Yer drunk! Ya went an' got drunk wit' him, didn't ya? Ya lied ta me! Ya said you didn't wanna go! Ya lied ta me! Didn't ya, Babs Seed? Huh?!"

Gone was the meek, placid mare, the one who buried her own emotions, her own desires. Towering over the seed was the bloom—strong, determined, sharp of mind and wit and hoof. Apple Bloom pressed her snout against her mare's, letting her feel her hot exhalation, her steam and iron.

Buck, buck, buck. Sputtering, Babs choked, "B-b-but! I-I didn't m-mean t-ta—"

"You think jus' 'cuz yer bigger than me that ya can push me 'round?! Is that how it is?!"

What?! "N-no! I w-would n-neva—"

The forehooves pressed harder, making her squirm. Little beads of vodka-scented sweat rolled off her forehead and nape, staining her muzzle. Babs tried again. "Bloom, I—"

Apple Bloom shook her muzzle rapidly, drowning out her cries. When she resumed her focus, she shouted, "NO! Yer gonna listen ta me right now, ya hear?!"

Leaning low, Apple Bloom let loose a torrent and tempest of emotion, stoking the coals within. Days and weeks and months of repression flowed free, and she let her maw outrace her mind, let its hooves stomp upon her tormentor without regard to absolutely anything else.

"You've been such a... such a bitch ta me lately!" Apple Bloom hissed, making her partner flinch. Babs had never, ever, ever heard Apple Bloom refer to anypony that way. Not even Diamond Tiara during their schoolfilly days. She blinked in disbelief, her muzzle blank with shock.

Apple Bloom continued, "Ah deserve betta than this... then yer... yer disrespect! You never listen ta me! Ah do so much fer you! Celestia knows how many times Ah've had ta patch ya up, o' cool ya down, o' apologize on yer behalf, an' ya never even listen ta me! You almost got us thrown in jail, o' out o' this hotel, jus' 'cuz ya can't shut yer damn mouth! Yer always tryin' ta be macho, tryin' ta be some Celestia-damned hero! An' what do Ah git fer it, Babs?! What do Ah git?!"

Babs opened and closed her mouth, deciding in a moment of drunken lucidity to remain silent.

"Ah git ta watch ya hurt yerself! Ah git ta watch ya damn near git yerself killed, runnin' yer mouth! Ah got ta watch ya break yer back in Yukon, all 'cuz ya wanted ta prove a stupid point! Ah got ta watch ya pick fights wit' our own customers, an' mistreat yer dad, an' drag us inta this hellhole jus' 'cuz ya blame yerself! It ain't yer fault, dammit!"

Heaving, catching her breath, Apple Bloom leaned down and whispered, "An' ya know what else?"

Terrified—never before had she seen such unrefined rage and pure dominion from her meek, beautiful mare—Babs merely shook her muzzle in surrender.

"You. Hurt. Me." Apple Bloom brought a forehoof up to Babs Seed's cheek and stared into her eyes. Trembling, fighting tears, she said, "You never hurt me 'gain, ya understand? You do it again, an' you'll regret it. You will," she vowed, sincere.

Stroking her mare's cheek repeatedly, Apple Bloom managed through a blurred veil of tears, "You may be bigger an' stronger than me, Babs Seed, but that doesn't give ya no right ta do what ya want an' mistreat me. Yer not the 'leader' o' us. You ain't the boss. We're partners. We're equals. An Ah'm not... Ah'm not... yer toy, Babs."

Babs Seed's heart sank. No no no no no, look what youze are doin', look what youze are ruinin'! "Bloom, I... I... I neva..."

Apple Bloom shook her muzzle and silenced her with a forehoof. "Ah know ya didn't. But ya did. An' Ah can't forgive ya fer that jus' yet."

Apple Bloom withdrew her forehoof slowly. For a moment, they stared into each other in silence—one in rage, the other in deep, sickening regret, even as the vodka churned, even as the walls began to spin and she flew as a pegasus inside her wretched Earth pony mind.

Babs broke the aching silence. "How can I—"

Lowering her tone and her eyelids, Apple Bloom shushed her mare. "Hush." Strong on her hooves, she gently flipped Babs Seed onto her stomach.

"Shut yer muzzle, ya drunk." Apple Bloom growled, placing a forehoof between her mare's shoulders, pinning her down. Anger salting her fire, she whispered, "Let me do the forgivin' while ya think 'bout what you've done..."

~

Entwined, twisted, tangled. Together. Two becoming one. Brought together in the moonless night inside the innards of the ghetto, lying silent in the forehooves of their only. Their beloved.

Catching their breath, somewhere between paradismal then and horrendous now. Lying somewhere on that plane of space-time continuum where things were not as they had and have been, and will be. Resting and contemplating in some alternate reality—a place where they were not here, in Discord’s kitchen itself, salted with fire and marching into the dark.

Apple Bloom held Babs Seed. She held her close, tight, strong in her hooves. The cutiemark against her flank testified to her determination and dexterity, and although the mare in her grasp was no rotted roof or eroded foundation or broken windowsill, she was broken and wounded nonetheless. And had been. Always.

There were some things that time would never heal.

So, in the silence, Apple Bloom grabbed the reins of Time's reckless steed and healed Babs. Healed her with the light touch of soft lips on her neck, with the nuzzles of her gentle cheek and snout against her bristled fur. Healed her with the rough forgiveness of her hooves tracing across her scars. Healed her with the assurance of her own heartbeat against Babs Seed's back, the other mare's rhythm resounding back in perfect metronome. Rage forgotten, love remaining.

Time ceased to exist for the second instance in their lives. The first was on a moonlit sky and amidst a torrent of rain, in a beautiful park marred by red and black. The second was on that soiled, rock-hard hotel mattress, while Luna hid her lantern and let Discord himself light up the night with his chaos instead.

Both times had been in Manehatten, in moments that would come to define them, shape them, create them.

Builder held destroyer, rebuilding her love. Doing what she'd always done, what she was born to do. Repair. Renew. Refresh. Rebuild.

Cultivate. Earth pony, full of magic.

“Ah love you.” A kiss on Babs's jawline, stealing her breath away. “Ah love you.” A kiss on her neck as she was rolled onto her back, by the smaller and stronger and wiser and better of their halves. Another kiss, as sacred and holy as the first. Her voice: smoky, sultry, low, a knife through the haze and into her heart. “Ah love you, Babs Seed...”

Denounement from their crescendo, piercing in the night. And yet remained a question hanging in Babs Seed's mind, when the liquor demon shuffled back under his rug and guilty sobriety took up the mantle once more. Why? Why, afta all dis? Why, afta I almost—

Noticing her silence, Apple Bloom brought a forehoof to Babs chin. “Hey. Look at me.”

Obeying, Babs tilted her head upwards. Surrendering. Submitting. “W-why?” she asked, barely audible, her voice cracking.

“Why what?” Apple Bloom answered calmly, holding her close. Still. Safe. Sober.

Hers.

“Why… why do youze…”

Struggling with the words, Babs groaned and moved a forehoof to her muzzle. Squeezing her snout, she willed herself to think through the pain. Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip. Youze mo’ than sober now. Get a Celestia-damned grip on youzeself!

Silently, Apple Bloom encouraged her, teasing the words from her with gentle, patient eyes. No venom, vitriol or malice could be mapped within the sunset-mare, all anger extinguished prior in lips, teeth, and tongue. All ill will had been cast aside with words and hooves, leaving only the truth. Their truth. The truth that blared towards the heavens like the outstreched limbs of praying cacti. The truth that stalked the night like the murderous Manehatten thugs.

The truth that both have never met, but always known.

Apple Bloom anticipated her words and braced herself, drawing in a sharp breath.

Finally, thrusting her eyes open, Babs blurted her question before she could rationalize it away. “Why do youze still love me?”

Six words spread from their epicenter and touched everything between them. Eight years of trials, tribulations, mountains and valleys and deserts and orchards and everything, everything flashed before their eyes, emeralds and fiery rubies and there was a moment, only a moment, a moment where oxygen molecules ceased to exist and lungs ceased to inhale and quantum physics itself suspended its holy laws and there was fear, there was panic and she regretted it instantly, every syllable, every intonation—

Apple Bloom giggled, clearing the fog. "Silly filly."

Babs blinked, dumbfounded. Silly? "What?"

Two forehooves found her torso and pulled her close. Laying her head gently on her chest, Apple Bloom sighed and clicked her tongue. "Ah know yer not always this dense. O' course Ah love ya, even if yer a damn fool sometimes. Heh." She sighed again, more sorrowfully this time. Running a forehoof up and down her mare's chest, she remarked, "This city's gettin' ta ya, ain't it?"

"The city?" Babs shook her head, confused. "I don't see what dat has ta do wit' it." Jus' me bein' stupid... I shoulda known betta. Known betta 'bout a lot o' things.

"O' course it's the city. It has everythin' ta do wit' it." Shifting her weight, Apple Bloom closed her eyes and mumbled, "Earth ponies don't belong in cities like this. Applejack told me that a long time 'go."

"She... she did, huh?"

Apple Bloom nodded. "Right when we came ta see ya," she whispered, nuzzling her neck, "all those years 'go. She told me, 'Apple Bloom, if Babs acts mighty different here than she did back home, it's not necessarily her doin' it... the city does strange things ta an Earth pony.'"

Babs Seed raised an eyebrow. "It does?" Could... could dat be why me an' Citrus felt so weird in Canterlot? An' why I felt so weird heeya? Why I still do? Uneasy... tense... hollow? An' why I wanted ta...

"Makes sense ta me. That's part o' the reason Ah didn't wanna come here. The otha part," explained Apple Bloom, looking her square in the eye and bringing a forehoof to her cheek, "was that Ah didn't wanna see ya get hurt again."

"Apple Bloom, I—"

"Do you..." Apple Bloom's eyes darted towards a nearby wall, focusing on the peeling, ancient wallpaper for a few seconds. Then, she returned to her mare, taking in another sharp breath. "Do you know why Ah first fell in love wit' you, Babs Seed?"

Blushing, Babs joked, "Uh... I always assumed it's 'cuz o' ma dashin' good looks, o' summat like dat."

Apple Bloom chuckled and snort-laughed, sending both of them into a spiral of giggles. "No, silly filly," she said, once calmed and a little more serious, "that's not why."

Playing with Babs Seed's mane, moving that one strand back and forth in front of her eyes, Apple Bloom said, "Ah've never actually told anypony this, so... It'll be our secret. Alright, Babsy?"

Kissing her cheek assuringly, her mare answered, "Alright, Bloom." Emboldened, she wrapped her forehooves around her and held her close. Keep youze safe, jus' as youze keep me.

"Well, Ah'm sure ya know already... Ah'm sure Applejack o' Granny told ya when we were livin' there what happened wit' ma parents," Apple Bloom stated matter-of-factly, plain and crisp.

Babs's silence answered for her.

"It's alright," Apple Bloom whispered. "Ah figured somepony woulda told ya, if Auntie didn't. O' ya would have asked."

"Bloom , I—"

Apple Bloom shushed her. "Let me finish, sugarcube."

"O... Okay."

"Good filly." After a quick kiss to her cheek, Apple Bloom regained her composure, anticipating the rush.

"Anyways... Ah... Sometimes Ah try ta remember 'em, ya know? Ah close ma eyes an' Ah try ta think o' what Pa looked like, o' maybe if Ah heard Ma's voice somehow . Ah know Ah was really, really young. Ah know that foals ain't s'posed ta remember things that young. But Ah try anyway. Ah guess..."

Apple Bloom drifted away for a moment, tracing circles on Babs's chest. "Ah guess that's ma way sometimes o' tryin' ta make maself feel better."

Sniffling, Babs squeezed her tightly and mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Apple Bloom."

"Don't be." Taking her forehooves in her own, Apple Bloom continued, "What Ah'm gettin' at is... Ah never knew 'em. Growin' up, Ah didn't really notice a problem 'till Ah started goin' ta school. All the otha fillies an' colts had moms o' dads. But Ah jus' had ma big bro, big sis, an' ma Granny. Ah think Ah was... six back then. Six, yes. An' Applejack was... thirteen o' fourteen. Well, anyway... Ah asked her, an' she sat me down an' told me what happened ta 'em.

"At first, Ah didn't really understand. What foal could, ya know?" Babs shook her muzzle and kissed her snout, eliciting a half-hearted smile. "Yes. Ah didn't understand. It took me a few years ta do so, an' when Ah did..."

Apple Bloom paused, then buried her muzzle in Babs' chest, sobbing quietly.

Stroking her mane and back, Babs Seed willed her tears away, willed her strength to return. She stood fast and strong and silent, holding her, lost for words. There were no words.

There was just the truth. Their truth.

Dampening her mare's fur, Apple Bloom looked up and forced a laugh. "Even now... Ah can't talk 'bout it without becomin' like this. It's one o' those things a pony jus' neva gets over. Heh. But—"

Wiping her tears, Babs said again, "I'm sorry."

Youze idiot. Dat's all youze can say? Dis mare gives youze Equestria itself an' dat's all youze can say when she reveals her most painful secret ta youze? Youze buckin' idiot... youze buckin', buckin'—

"Shhh." Shaking her head, Apple Bloom repeated, "Let me finish."

Babs nodded, silently cursing herself.

"So... Ah guess what Ah'm gettin' at is... Ah had a lot on ma plate as a lil' foal." Looking at the moonless sky briefly, Apple Bloom returned to Babs's eyes and shrugged. "Maybe it was ma fault fer wonderin'. But the truth was bound ta come eventually.

"This is somethin', Babs, Ah haven't even talked ta Sweetie o' Scoots 'bout. Not this much, really. They know ma folks passed away when Ah was jus' a lil' foal, but they don't know the full story.

"So here Ah am... A lil' filly, growin' up, tryin' anythin' an' everythin' ta get ma cutiemark. Tryin' ta fit in. Ta find maself. An' on top o' that, Ah have this guilt. 'Cuz it was me, Babs."

Apple Bloom leaned close to her mare, close enough that Babs Seed could taste her tears, taste the quiver in her words. "It was me."

"No, Bloom, it wasn't..."

"Maybe not." Apple Bloom sniffled. "Maybe it wasn't. But it sure as hell felt that way."

Silence.

"Babs..." Apple Bloom mustered a small smile.

Youze smilin' at me. Even now, youze smilin' at me. Youze are the stronga. Always have been.

Her long, wavy red mane falling in cascades of crimson to her shoulders, Apple Bloom removed her bow and took Babs Seed's muzzle in her forehooves, staring straight into her. "When Ah first met you... Ah thought you were cute, yes," she admitted with a blush. "Ah knew Ah liked fillies a bit befo' that. Unfortunately, ma first crush didn't feel the same."

"Who was youze first crush?"

"Scoots."

Babs snorted and started to laugh. "R-really?"

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes and facehoofed. "Jus' don't tell her, alright? Ah... Ah kinda figured out she wasn't like that early on, anyway. Crazy filly was makin' 'em heart-eyes at Featherweight an' Rumble from day one. Her lil' obsession wit' Rainbow Dash didn't fool me."

"Pffft!" Babs whooped. "H-horseapples!"

Giggling, Apple Bloom re-focused her mare, nudging her muzzle to face her. "Yes. Anyways," she said firmly, steering the conversation, "Ah did like ya. O' course, then all that stuff happened, but it's not worth mentionin' really. That was so long 'go, an' Ah forgive ya, anyway.

"But that night... That night when ya told me what yer life was like—the things ya went through, the things ya went through every day, the way ya really felt—somethin'... somethin' in me jus'... jus' sparked, Ah guess," Apple Bloom explained, smiling down at her mare.

"It wasn't that Ah felt sorry fer ya. It was mo' that Ah met somepony who knew how it felt ta hurt, Ah guess. Ah guess Ah found somethin' o' maself in you, Babs. Ah found that, an' Ah wanted ta take care o' ya so badly, an' make ya happy, an' be yer friend... an'..."

Apple Bloom leaned in close to her nicked ear and finished, her countenance crimson, "Love you..."

"Haah... youze..." Babs Seed stumbled in disbelief, "Youze wanted ta... ta love me?"

"Yes," Apple Bloom said quietly, kissing her wound. "Ah wanted ta love you. Ah didn't care that you were a filly, o' that you were ma cuz. Ah jus' wanted ta love you, Babs. Ta love ya, ta hold ya, ta kiss ya. Ta make ya feel safe, an' make ya happy. An' then, that night... that night happened... in the park... an' then...

"Ah knew Ah really did love you, even if it took me years ta say it."

Pulling back, Apple Bloom loomed over her, muzzle-to-muzzle close. Months of indecision swirling within, she finally let it go, let it loose. Let it loose without guidance, without advice, without divine intervention. Letting her love speak.

"Ah love you, Babs Seed. Ah always have an' always will, even if yer a damned fool an' a stupid mare sometimes. Yer a stubborn, crude, brute o' a mare sometimes," Apple Bloom quipped, smirking, "but Ah love you. Nothin' can o' will change that. But..."

"Yes, Bloom?" Babs Seed murmured, on the verge of joyful tears.

"There is somethin' Ah want, Babs Seed."

"Anythin', Bloom. Anythin'. Tell me. Youze want Luna's moon?" Babs declared through a veil and haze of saccharine, salty tears, "I'll sprout Celestia-damned pegasus wings an' steal it maself. Youze want Celestia's sun? I'll bribe Discord outta his stone an' have him morph it inta a damned glass o' chocolate milk.

"I'll do anythin' fo' youze, Apple Bloom."

"Then," Apple Bloom said, her words trembling with the magnitude of Equestria itself, "promise me somethin'."

"Anythin'."

"When this is all is said an' done... when we git outta this hellhole..."

"Yes?"

Apple Bloom said, her muzzle darkening to deep crimson, "Ah... Ah want ta get married, Babs."

Matching her blush, Babs began, "Bloom, I—"

"Ah want ta be yer wife, Babs. Ah want ya ta be mine." Apple Bloom wrapped her forehooves around her neck. "An' Ah don't... Ah don't wanna feel like yer draggin' me o' Ah'm draggin' ya. So many couples play games, Applejack told me long 'go. Games o' power an' trust. Ah don't wanna play any games. Ah love you, Babs Seed, an' Ah want ta marry ya an' raise foals wit' you an' Ah—"

"F-f-foals?" Youze didn't fall asleep durin' biology class, did youze?

"D-down the line... But!" Apple Bloom lowered her eyelids. "Ah wanna see Equestria wit' ya, Babs Seed. Ah wanna travel an' have adventures an' meet all kinds o' wonderful ponies again... Ah don't wanna truly settle down until we're ready. But... Ah want ta be yers, an' you be mine.

"Ah want all o' Equestria ta know Ah love you."

Silence.

Without a ring, Apple Bloom proposed to her anyway.

"Will you marry me, Babs Seed?"

Quiet.

Two hearts, two sets of hooves, two baited breaths.

And then, after eternity rose and fell—after the Most High and Old Scratch battled in the heavens, after the end of the age—Babs Seed answered at last, in the only way she knew how.

"Yes," she said, and kissed her mare.

~

Shouts and curses from a nearby hotel room woke Babs Seed up far too early. Groaning, slick with vodka-scented sweat, she stumbled from the bed to her hooves. Careful not to awaken her fiancée, she walked over to the bathroom sink and turned the water on as high as it could go.

Splashing cool, refreshing, dank city water onto her face, she mentally grumbled, I’m neva drinkin’ ‘gain. Least, not like dat. Horseapples. The weather-pegasi are kickin’ up a storm in ma head. She wiped her hooves and sighed. An alien thirst and scratchiness in her throat drove her to turn on the sink again. She stuck her tongue under the faucet, lapping up enough to drown all of Appleloosa in a monstrous sea.

While futilely attempting to quench her thirst, Babs heard Apple Bloom yawn, stretch, and hop off the bed. She trotted into the tiny bathroom with an enormous smirk on her muzzle. “Hungova, are ya?” she teased, hugging her from behind.

Yea yea, laugh it up. Babs ignored her, chasing the fire in her throat. The flames never seemed to end, no matter how much she drank. She’d just closed her eyes for a few seconds, relishing a brief moment of relief before the sink stopped.

“What da—‘ey!” Shooting Apple Bloom a glare, Babs whined, “I was drinkin’ dat!”

“Ain’t enough water in Equestria ta fix yer thirst,” Apple Bloom scolded. “Only time will heal that. Now, come on, let’s git ready ta go see the Detective.”

“Already? But—but what ‘bout breakfast?” argued Babs, her stomach rumbling in protest.

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Babs, ya really think you can keep anythin’ down this mornin’?” She added smugly, “O’ maybe ya wanna make a wager outta it?”

Good point. I may be hungry, but food sounds like a pretty bad idea right ‘bout now. Babs snorted and trotted away from the sink and into the main room. “Whateva! Some support youze are. Makin’ fun o’ somepony who’s sick," she grumbled with a smile.

“S’alright if the pony did it ta themselves!” Washing her face, Apple Bloom called out, “Ah may forgive ya, but Ah still have a right ta make fun o’ ya.”

Babs relented with a snort, “Fine.”

Dodging the hammers in her head, she did her best to make her brutish self look presentable. There was nothing that could be done about the scar and notch. Though, dey certainly don’t help ta make me look like summat otha than the thugs she’s used ta dealin’ wit’. Oh well. She briefly considered removing her earring, but decided against it. Such a gift should be removed for cleaning only, and nothing more.

Be damned iffa I disrespect his memory.

Stretching her back on the bed, cursing her hangover, Babs muttered, “Ready when youze are.”

Closing the door to the bathroom and joining her side, Apple Bloom shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Tsk-tsk, Babs.”

“What? What did I do now?”

“Yer gonna go talk ta the Detective lookin’ like that?”

“What’s wrong wit’ how I look, huh?”

Chuckling, Apple Bloom kissed her cheek and replied, “Nothin’. Just flingin’ some right back at ya. Think ya can get up without pukin’?”

“Jus’ watch me.” Babs smirked, lifted herself up, and promptly fell off the bed.

Apple Bloom face-hoofed. "It's gonna be a loooooong day..."

~

Lucky Toss stared at his newspaper, reading the same headline over and over. His mug of steaming hot coffee soon became tepid and unpalatable. He groaned, rubbing his temples, willing the hammer and anvil within to leave him be. “Ayyyyye… neva drinkin’ on a work night ‘gain… Horseapples…”

Officer Rustler walked by slowly, snorting his derision. A pile of paperwork balanced between his forehooves, he scowled and said, “Get back ta work, youze lazy patrol-pony! Dem Incident Reports ain’t gonna write demselves.”

“Fuck off, Rustla,” Lucky snarled, looking up at the stallion and narrowing his eyes. “Youze ain’t the boss o’ me. Dat’s our beloved Chief’s job.”

Rustler shot back, “An’ Brutus has been on ma flank ta make sure youze all get youze reports in, on time an’ accurate. Hurry it up, Toss! How long can it take ta write ‘bout one lil’ petty-theft?” Trotting away, he threw his mane back and groaned, “Horseapples, what I put up wit’!”

“’Ey! Dat mare may have been old, but she gave quite the chase!” Lucky snapped, taking a sip of his coffee. “Blech! Dat jus’ made ma hangova worse!” He stuck out his tongue and wiped it with the newspaper.

“’Ey, Toss!” Cotton approached the front desk, grinning like a schoolfilly and pointing at him. “Dat right there—what youze is doin’—is the opposite o’ sexy. Dove ain’t gonna even look at youze twice iffa she sees youze like dis.”

The stallion rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Yea, whateva.” Rolling his newspaper up, he casually swatted a wayward fly and asked, “By the way, is she in yet? Babs an’ Apple Bloom gonna be heeya any minute ta see her, I bet.”

Cotton grimaced. “Youze mean brute an’ hillbilly?”

Lucky smacked the desk with a forehoof. THUD! “’Ey! What did I tell youze ‘bout bein’ nice?!”

“Dat bitch was gonna pop me one, Toss!” Cotton sat on her haunches and pulled a cigarette from one of her uniform pockets and a pack of matches from another. Striking one against her forehoof and lighting up, she took a deep drag, growling as she exhaled, “She’s damn lucky she ain’t rottin’ wit’ the big dogs right ‘bout now. Jus’ ‘cuz she’s youze friend—“

“She ain’t ma friend, Cotton. Now,” Toss began, waving off a cloud of smoke headed his direction, “go outside an’ indulge youze filthy habit there. Nopony wants ta smell dat in the office.”

Cotton argued, “Dove smokes in her office all the time an’ youze don’t say shit, lovaboy.”

“Whateva, Cotton. She’s a detective. She can do whateva the hay she wants,” Lucky quipped, putting his hindhooves up on the desk. “An’,” he said pointedly, glaring at her, “I’m not jus’ sayin’ dat ‘cuz—“

“Howdy, Lucky Toss!”

Lucky Toss looked up, almost spilling his lukewarm coffee onto his uniform. Apple Bloom led the way confidently into the station, a reluctant Babs Seed in tow. A smug grin spread across his muzzle at the sight of the hungover mare.

“Well! Iffa it ain’t Babs Seed an’ her beau-ti-ful mare,” he greeted, whistling. Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. The symphony in Babs’s skull prevented her from responding with much more than a scowl. “Oh, come now, youze both know it was a joke! Youze know! Funny ha-ha?”

Meeting his desk, Apple Bloom said, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Lucky. Ah should rip ya a new one fer gettin’ her drunk last night!” She shot a glare towards her mare, who joined them and sat down, rubbing her forehead.

Raising his forehooves in surrender, Toss gasped and repeated,“I got her drunk? Pffft!” Smacking his chest with a forehoof, he roared with laughter, drilling holes in Babs’s skull. Ahh, not so loud, youze damn brute! Buck!

“Youze mare drank far mo' than me! She can handle her liquor, haha! Horseapples, I believe she really was a bartenda back in no-pony’s land! Hahaha!”

Covering her ears with her forehooves, Babs growled and muttered, “Can youze shut youze damn muzzle an’ jus’ get us ta Dove, Lucky?! Horseapples, youze is loud!”

Calming down, he caught his breath and relented, “Aww, alright. Party poopers.” Returning all three mares’ glares with a cheeky grin, Lucky Toss strode from his desk and into the hallway, leaving Cotton to her treasured visitors.

The mare puffed on her cigarette and exhaled slowly, blowing a cloud of smoke straight into Babs’s face. Bitch. Coughing, Babs Seed gritted her teeth and grumbled, “Can’t youze do dat somewhere else?”

“I deal wit’ punks like youze all Celestia-damned day,” Cotton replied flatly, plopping down on her haunches. Enjoying her tobacco, she snapped, “I’ll do what I want, an’ youze two jus’ sit tight an’ wait. Iffa youze know what’s good fo’ youze, dat is.”

Babs Seed began to rise off her haunches, only to be pushed down by her mare. Dismissing her with a simple shake of her head, Apple Bloom coughed and mumbled, “It’s not worth it, Babs. Let’s jus’ wait.”

They did not wait for much longer. Just as soon as he’d disappeared, Officer Lucky Toss emerged back into the hallway, light on his hooves. With a triumphant smile, he exclaimed, “It’s youze lucky day! Youze caught Dove jus’ befo’ she’s got a meetin’ wit’ the Chief."

“How much time do we have?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Half an’ hour.” Beckoning them to follow, Lucky added, “Make it count. She’s a tough nut ta crack.”

Cotton rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Mo’ nuts than youze’ll eva have, kiss-ass.”

The three of them, oblivious to the spiteful remark, made their way through the main hallway of the Manehatten Police Department. Dodging passing police-ponies—many with mounds of paperwork in their hooves—they reached their destination with more than a few instances of “’Cuse me” and “Sorry.”

At the end of the hallway, a closed, oak door with a small window near the top awaited them. Already, a steady stream of gray smoke filled the office, billowing out from the crack at the bottom of the door. An embossed brass sign announced its owner: Detective White Dove—Lead Investigator, Anti-Gang Unit.

“Dis is it,” Lucky said softly. “Let me introduce youze first, alright?”

Both mares nodded. Babs felt her muscles involuntarily clench. We came all the way inta dis hellhole and threatened our relationship an’ our lives ta be in dis dark place. She betta listen. O’ else.

Apple Bloom laid a forehoof on her shoulder assuringly and mouthed the words “It’ll be alright.”

I hope so.

Knock, knock.

“Dove?”

From within came a gruff, deep mare’s voice. “What is it, Toss? Fo’ the last buckin’ time, I ain’t goin’ on no dates wit’ youze, asshole!”

“Uh…” Blushing, Lucky Toss rubbed his nape and muttered to Babs and Apple Bloom, “Sorry youze had ta hear dat. She an’ I—as Babs knows by now—have a, uh, tense relationship.”

“Lovely.” Apple Bloom face-hoofed.

“Heh. Sorry. Don’t worry. Won’t affect youze two.” Leaning up on his hindhooves, Lucky shouted, “It’s not ‘bout dat, Dove! I got two mares heeya who want ta talk ta youze!”

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

The door swung wide open. In the threshold stood a tall, white mare, her mane and tail a mess of black curls. Dark circles testified to insomnia beneath her eyes, which were a determined, steely gray. A cutiemark of a dark-pink shield with a white chevron adorned her flank. She wore the same uniform as her brothers and sisters in the badge—blue, with polished silver buttons and perfectly ironed creases. A cigarette hung lazily from her lips, burning rapidly towards its filter.

Babs Seed sized up the detective. White Dove was almost as tall as her—missing only by one or two inches. Massive for a mare. In her eyes was that same spark and fire she recognized in her own, the one that was quick to judge and snap and pounce. Her muscles were visible and rippling beneath her coat, strong and conditioned. She was an officer, after all. And, apparently, a fiery one.

Oh, ho, ho… Dis is gonna be fun.

“Who are youze two?!” barked White Dove. She flared her nostrils at Babs Seed, leaning closer. Close enough to exhale toxic, cancerous fumes all over her face. “Scars, earring. Youze some punk in the ghetto, huh? Lookin’ fo’ snitch bits, are youze?”

Suppressing the urge to cough, Babs simply shook her head.

White Dove shifted her gaze to the smaller mare. “An’ youze…” She smirked, her expression softening a bit. Her voice smoother this time, she said, “Youze sure don’t look like youze belong wit’ a punk, lil’ mare. O’ in dis city at all.”

“We ain’t from here, ma’am,” Apple Bloom answered politely, smiling a bit. “This is ma fiancée, Babs Seed. An’ Ah’m Apple Bloom.”

“Fiancée?” Lucky repeated, dumbfounded. He nudged Babs in the shoulder. “Whoa, dat sure happened fa—“

“Youze know these two, Lucky?” The detective took another puff of her tobacco.

He nodded. “I do. Dey came from pretty far ta see youze, Dove, an’ there’s a good reason why. Give ‘em a chance, Dove, would youze? Please?” he added, pouting, giving her the best puppy-dog look he could muster.

Detective White Dove groaned and face-hoofed, then adjusted the badge on her uniform. “Alright, fine. C’mon, youze two. Come in an’ have a seat an’ we’ll talk.”

Pivoting on her hooves, Dove trotted back inside her office, pulling up the stool to her desk. Two others waited for them on the opposite side.

“Good luck,” the stallion said, holding the door open for them.

As they slowly made their way inside and to their seats, Lucky Toss realized he truly meant it.

And he was a stallion of easy words.

He looked at the clock. 0900. Thirty minutes, starting now.

Comments

[Bad_Seed_72]

Almost 14K...a new record! Hope it's worth the length and the wait, you guys. All feedback appreciated.

[RoboRed]

And the pieces slowly move in place...

Also, yay, cuddles!

[Bad_Seed_72]

2839210

Indeed they do.

And yup, they made up!

[Aatxe360]

I was kinda wondering when this was going to take place. Their interactions earlier seemed terse, to put it bluntly. I actually expected it to happen after the climax, but before gives it a better impact. And lots of room for possible foreshadowing.

Also I'm glad this story didn't get lost in my multiple pages of favorites. I have six pages to read through and around twelve awaiting updates.

[Bad_Seed_72]

2839413

Indeed...foreshadowing ahoy. I'm glad this didn't get lost for you, either. I always enjoy your commentary!

[Bad_Seed_72]

2839801

Oh man, that's a lot of reading. Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter!

[UniqueSKD]

I'm just waiting to see Madhoof get killed. Don't care anymore who kills him so long as it is done.

Also I didn't quite understand the letter. Who was the 'meddler'? And what was the letter basically implying? Sorry I'm so stupid that I can't understand this stuff. Still an awesome story.

[Bad_Seed_72]

2839845

You and everyone else (I don't think anyone here is rooting for Madhoof ).

Regarding the letter:

(Text spoilered for those who didn't read chapter 18 yet): "One week, Appleloosa by Luna" means that he is commanded to go to Appleloosa at night in a week, and the "meddler" is the one of three law-ponies who survived the first Appleloosa attack. Basically, Madhoof is sending Slinger on yet another mission, and Slinger is (logically so) convinced that he will die if he goes out there, hence his outrage and urgency.

Trust me, my friend, you aren't stupid. The letter was purposefully vague because it's a written communication among the Knights. Vagueness is all mine. Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

[kooarbiter]

oh no captain, feel levels are rising dramatically, if we dont abandon ship the diabeetus will surely kill us all!

one of my favorite ships in all the stories I read, tbh (Rarijack is best ship)

[Bad_Seed_72]

2839899

We'd better ease up on your feels intake, then. Otherwise, you might have to see the doctor--I mean, doctors...

media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lhaw3ywzQ41qaha6c.png

That doesn't bode well.

Wow, thanks! I'm glad you like it! And, jokes in SAA aside, I actually love Rarijack too.

[UniqueSKD]

Oh yeah I'm enjoying it alright. You have quite a gift for the written art. I myself have recently attempted to write a story on this site, and lately I'm studying other peoples work to see how they interpret certain characters. You know, like how you portray Apple Bloom compared to someone else, if that makes any sense

So anyways yeah your story really caught my attention. I can't wait to see what you do to Bernie. You made an awesome hate-able character right there. A.d thanks for replying back to my comments. Makes me fell special. LOL

[kooarbiter]

2839947

hmm, die a horiible death from an awesome ship, or visit the cutie mark crusaders for a doctor's visit...

eenope

[Bad_Seed_72]

2840034

Thanks! I know what you mean. There are a lot of authors on here, and there are so many different ways to write the canon characters. And that's not getting into OC's yet either: tons of flexibility there. We'll see what happens to our beloved Bernie. And you're welcome, I enjoy your comments!

2840112

Yeah, Soapy... And Boone to some extent as well. I hope you enjoy the future chapters.

2840140

Death is a better choice in that scenario.

[MageTrollpatrol]

I like this one! PA-LEAAAAAAASE UPDATE AGAIN SOON! I wanna see where this goes.

[DJ FROZZ]

You need a medal
I shall work on one right now.

I LIKE IT!

[Bad_Seed_72]

2840903

Glad you liked it! I will do my best...next chapter is definitely gonna be interesting.

2841784

Wow, thanks!

[Bad_Seed_72]

2842999

I can certainly relate to that feeling!

Imagine if Babs had said no?

[Loopy Legend]

2840034 Say what ya will about Seed's writing skills, she knows how to make some nice characters. An I don't just speak as a fan, I do script writing for a living. Her specialization in dialog is also a treat to read. When most writers attempt to do proper dialog they normally mess it up or make it hard to read. Seed's, while a little rocky in the earlier stories, has come a long way. But her portrayal of Bloom and Babs is the best I have seen.

All in all, she has really developed a style all her own when it comes to writing. An when ya own a style all to yourself, ya truly have turned from ranked amateur to recognized professional as a writer. Take a bow Seed, ya deserve this one.

[DJ FROZZ]

2842875 Whats your fav. color (need to know for ribbon).

I LIKE IT!

[Bad_Seed_72]

2842679

Yeah, I write long chapters in this one. Sorry No, thank you for reading it! Yes, Slinger is definitely fully after Madhoof now, no longer complacent. What has happened to so many is indeed sad.

2843225

Bloom probably would have reacted similarly... so hurrah for acceptance!

2843370

Wow, thank you, my friend... *takes a bow* I don't have anything else to say other than thanks for reading my stories (and being an awesome dude all-around!) and I'm glad you enjoy them.

2844827

It's blue.

Glad!

[Stunt Monkey]

D'awww...

[Bad_Seed_72]

2859016

Glad you liked it.

[Dark Flame]

Well its nice they're engaged now, and they're becoming a lil happier. I'm curious to see what's going to happy with this whole slinga situation now though. I don't have any clue what's going to happen with it now.

[Bad_Seed_72]

2864806

Don't worry; we'll see more of Slinger in the next chapter.

[Dark Flame]

2865499 Yeahhhhh buddy. Originally, I expected him to lead an assault on Bernie's mansion, but now, I just don't what's gonna happen. So, this is some goood news.

[Biker_Dash]

ABOUT BUCKING TIME that Bloom popped the friggin question! And I am very pleased to see that Babs said yes!

[The philosopher]

It took me FOREVER to finish this chapter. Damn my slow reading
2843178 Well, my reaction would've been something along the line of
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m1czhtXnh61rni0w9o1_500.gif
Followed quickly by
i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/576/865/c9c.gif

[MariusIoannesP]

Well, that was quite the emotional roller coaster. We reached the low point of Babs and Bloom's relationship. In their eight years together, they have never had a spat that serious. Just wow. Babs Seed was a mare on a mission to prevent those she loved from being hurt because she thinks she's being targeted. And what does she ending up doing. She ends up hurting physically and emotionally the one pony that matters the most to her. It really is the city. It's a place of corruption. The very den of Tirek, Old Scratch himself.

And what is that followed by. Why probably the highest point of Babs and Bloom's relationship of all things. That final commitment that begins some kind of eternal union.

[Sur-Toufaan]

media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6vbhhVYgC1r3zat8.gif

[Ice Star]

I really, really (insert Aleph null reallys) hope Card Slinger doesn't die. It seems like everyone is dying in here and I hope he won't be one of them.

Also, wonderful chapter(Libra's Stallion is still my favorite though, dark flashback character depth wonderfullness is my weakness/strength).