Prologue: Deal With A Devil

Prologue: Deal With a Devil

I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror...

Ponyville was a hive of activity today. Just on the outskirts of Ponyville by Sweet Apple Acres was a campsite that looked like a small city, each tent housing a small family of ponies as they waited on the outskirts of the tiny town at the heart of Equestria. Each and every pony there was up talking, laughing and doing things with their families. Simply put, they were waiting.

The ponies of Ponyville could not afford such luxuries of waiting however. Everypony who could do something was working. Princess Twilight Sparkle was, due to her royal status and notorious organisational prowess, was working directly with Mayor Mare to ensure the day's proceedings ran smoothly. Applejack and Big Mac had been working nonstop for the past several weeks to prepare enough cider for everypony for this one day. An arduous process to be sure, yet they did have the full help and support of the entire Apple family to aid them. Rarity had been appointed as the manager of any and all decorations and had been designing banners and flags for the past several months using almost all of her materials in the process (though she was paid a rather handsome fee). Pinkie Pie of course was bouncing around Ponyville as if springs had been attached to her already buoyant and rubbery feet, and was stuffing cupcakes and candy-canes, sarsaparilla and soda at anypony whose hands were not already full. Fluttershy was nowhere to be seen, though some ponies suspected that she may have been commissioned by Twilight to keep an eye on Discord for the day. Rainbow Dash and the rest of the Ponyville weather team had been awake since the first rays of Celestia's sun had crested over the horizon, clearing the skies of clouds. A small faction of the weather team chased away any clouds that came anywhere near the boundaries of Ponyville whilst the others were commissioned by Rarity to hang some of the more hard to place decorations.

Predictably, this drove Rainbow Dash insane, but even she wouldn't complain about the extra workload. Not today. Today was probably going to be the biggest event for Ponyville since the Summer Sun Celebration all those years ago when Twilight first appeared.

Today, was the first time the Day of Eclipse would be celebrated in over one thousand years. The day when Celestia's Sun would be blotted out by Luna's Moon in a joyous celebration of the harmony in Equestria. This momentous occasion had not occurred since before the time on Luna's transformation into Nightmare Moon and subsequent banishment. Now however, after the coronation of the newly appointed Princess Twilight Sparkle, and the distress caused by the withering of the Tree of Harmony, the sister Princesses of Sun and Moon had decided it was high time for the celebration of Harmony once more. A most wonderful occasion indeed, and no pony in Equestria wanted to miss it.

Or perhaps, Equestria and beyond? Rumours flew wildly about foreign dignitaries that may be traveling from far off countries to observe this spectacle of magic. After all it was history in the making, and nopony wanted to miss it.

"At least they didn't follow us," Scootaloo lamented as she and her fellow Crusader's trudged wearily through a secluded section of Sweet Apple Acres. She kicked an unusually clumped tuft of grass out of bitterness.

"Maybe we should go back?" Sweetie Belle suggested looking uneasily over her shoulders.

"An' what? Sit though the Eclipse Ceremony with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon breathin' down our necks?" Apple Bloom growled. "If that's what you wanna do Sweetie that's fine but Ah'm sick of it."

"Me too," Scootaloo agreed.

Sweetie Belle bowed her head slightly and bit her lip. "I was just saying...."

"We know Sweetie Belle," Scootaloo said, squeezing Sweetie Belle's shoulder, "But we all know it's more trouble than it's worth. Besides, do you wanna be at the Eclipse Ceremony, with hundreds of ponies from Equestria and beyond, and have all of them see this?"

She traced her finger over Sweetie Belle's blank and unmarked cheek.

Sweetie Belle blinked back a few tears and shook her head emphatically. Scootaloo removed her hand and gave a sad smile of understanding.

They walked on for a while more, in silence and in sadness. All three of them, head's downcast and cheek's blank. Unmarked by the meaning of their own unique talents, the secrets of which they had been unable to decipher even after all these years.

Their Crusade to find their Cutie Marks, had ended in failure. They were no longer the little fillies who ran around Ponyville with madcap schemes, but young mares who hung at the back of class to avoid attention. Who spent days at home, doing work or chores or other such labours to remain isolated from others. To avoid the whisper's behind their backs, and the not-so-subtle points to their blank cheeks. They just wanted to be left alone.

"It ain't FAIR!" Applebloom suddenly screamed, turning suddenly and kicking at a nearby apple tree with all her might. Given her years of working the farm with Applejack and Big Mac, the tree groaned and toppled over, though no apples fell from its dead branches.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, though initially surprised by Apple Bloom's sudden shout, lowered their heads again as the farm girl felled the dead apple tree. This hadn't been the first time one of them had exploded like that. Violent mood swings like that were pretty much common place in their little trio. While they were mostly quiet and sullen there were occasions when one of them would simply snap and lash out at whatever was closest. Objects, family, other ponies. The only ones safe from the three young mares when one of them went off the deep-end were themselves.

Applebloom panted heavily, her shoulders rising and falling in sharp, juddering movements as Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle simply watched, part curious, part sympathetic. Sweetie Belle made as if to comfort Applejack but Scootaloo grabber her arm and held her back. When Sweetie Belle looked at her she shook her head slightly.

Eventually Applebloom's breathing normalised. A moment followed before her head dropped onto her chest and her arms wrapped around her as if she was cold. Her body began quaking and she fell down to her knees. Scootaloo let go of Sweetie's arm and they both rushed to her side, embracing her from either side, offering hushed, quiet words to her as she sobbed nearly uncontrollably.

"It just ain't fair...." Applebloom whispered through her tears.

Ponyville town hall had been decorated in the colours of the four Princesses of Equestria. The brilliant gold and pearl white flags of Celestia. The midnight blue and shimmering silver of Luna. The hot pink and crystal blue of Cadance. And the deep purple and calming magenta for Twilight. The four Princesses themselves stood at the end of the hall, each dressed in elegant gowns to compliment there appearance (each one of course designed by Rarity). Shining Armour stood by Cadence's side, dressed in his red dress uniform, ceremonial sword hilted at his side. Prince Blueblood was conspicuous by his absence, though no one really complained.

They were waiting for the arrival of their honoured guests. The various political powers who had been invited to attend the occasion would gather in this room and be greeted by Celestia and the others before they were allowed to mingle. From what Twilight had been told by Rarity when she discussed the matter with her, it would be something akin to a cocktail party like the ones usually held in Canterlot, where the rich and the powerful gathered and talked about anything and everything.

Of course, given her pessimistic nature, Twilight was terrified of having to meet the foreign dignitaries. Mainly for her fear that she may do or say something stupid, an act that would be highlighted be the absence of Blueblood.

"My dear Twilight you simply must relax," Celestia said, looking concernedly at the younger Princess from the corner of her eye.

"I'm fine," she panted, her breathing heavy and laboured, every muscle in her body tense. "I'm fine really. I mean okay I'm a little nervous. This is the first time I'll be meeting foreign dignitaries as a Princess after all."

"You have no need to fear Twilight," Luna assured her. "I am certain none of our allies will ask you any trying questions. All you must do is be yourself. That is what gained you so many friends here in Ponyville is it not?"

"Yes, yes that's right," Twilight breathed, clearing her throat. "But then again none of the ponies I met back then were powerful political figures that I really needed to impress."

"You won't need to impress them Twily," Shining said, smiling kindly. "Trust me I've attended hundreds of these things. All you have to do is smile a little, say hello, maybe accept a little banter. No biggie."

"Easy for you to say," Twilight gulped. "Like you said you've been to lots of these things. Me?... I think I'm starting to feel nauseous."

"I don't think your friend Rarity would appreciate you violating your dress by vomiting upon it," Luna pointed out.

"Can we not talk about vomit please? I'm feeling sick as it is!"

As she said this the doors opened and a single pony entered, grimacing slightly.

"The first guests have arrived your highnesses," he informed.

"Very good Captain," Celestia acknowledged. "You may bring them in."

"Oh goodie," Twilight sighed.

"We should leave them to blow off some steam darling," Rarity said to Applejack as she repaired one of the banners that had been damaged over the past hour. The damage had been caused by a near distraught Sweetie Belle after an ill-placed comment from a now shocked visitor.

"Ah wish Ah knew what to do about them fillies," Applejack sighed shaking her head slightly, leaning against the wall Rarity was redecorating.

"Mares darling," Rarity corrected. "Those three stopped being fillies a long time ago."

"She's right AJ," Rainbow Dash said arms folded, looking at the sky in case a stray cloud managed to sneak into Ponyville airspace. "Those girls are pretty much all grown up."

"Apart from you know what o' course," Applejack grimaced. "Ah can hardly mention it without 'Bloom completely loosin' her cool."

"You're lucky your family isn't unicorn," Rarity muttered. "The damage magic can do is really astounding when channeled correctly. Especially when a hormonal and distraught mare is the one in control of it."

"You know to be perfectly honest I'm surprised Scootaloo is the most composed out of those three," Rainbow commented. "I mean, she was the one who came up with the most drastic of ideas to get those three their Cutie Marks. Whenever she gets upset about it she just flies away as fast as she can for an hour or two."

"Though Scootaloo does seem to be the hair-brained schemer of the three, I don't think she has the heart in her to be malicious, intentional or otherwise," Rarity said. "I can't say I surprised by how Applebloom's taking it. No offense darling."

"None taken," Applejack sighed. "I know she gives you a unfair mouthful the same as she does to me. She always was the most drastic of the three. Remember the time she got herself Cutie Pox?"

"Oh dear she did look rather... small after that didn't she?" Rarity chuckled to herself.

"They'll always look small to me," Rainbow smirked. "They'll always be the same three little fillies."

"Ah feel the same way Rainbow," Applejack sighed. "I just wish that it were true."

"I swear if I have to smile anymore my jaw will fall off," Twilight moaned, rubbing the lower half of her face.

"Patience Twilight," Luna murmured out of the corner of her mouth. "We have but a few more guests to greet and we can drop the smiles."

"How many?" was all Twilight said in response.

"Five," Celestia answered, looking out over the now densely populated town hall.

A loud bang sounded from outside.

"And it sounds like they have arrived," Celestia smiled.

The door opened and a band of unicorns stepped through. The first was a tall, middle-aged grizzled stallion, with a slate grey coat, with a silver blue mane. His eyes were a deep navy blue, that sparkled with both mischief and danger in equal measures. His Cutie Mark was of single, curved blade shaped like a large 'C' emblazoned on a white star. He was dressed in a black suit, with many military medals pinned to his chest. As he walked towards Celestia and the others, Twilight noted that he walked with a slight limp in his right leg, and so leaned on a silver topped walking stick.

The unicorn beside him was about the same age as him, but was lime green in the colour of her coat and had a chesnut brown mane. Her eyes were a deep hazel in colour and her Cutie Mark was an red medical cross in the centre of swirling vortex of stars. Her dress was a long sweeping gown with a long flowing hem of a silver blue colour that trailed behind her.

Behind them, practically in their shadows was a tall, broad shouldered stallion, or mare. It could have been either as their face was lost in sharp shadows. The imposing sight was made even more so by the angular, black and golden armour that they wore, hiding their body and face from view as they strode down the hall, the crowds parting like a school of fish around a shark. Pinned to their shoulders was a cape of black velvet, embroidered with golden silk. On the cape's flowing material was a crest. A midnight blue shield with a silver horse's head, surrounded by brilliant golden stars.

Behind the armoured figure was a second mare, appearing almost board. Her coat was the same shade of lime green as the first mare and her mane the same silver blue as the stallion. She also shared the same navy blue eyes as he. It took Twilight only a moment to reason she must be their daughter. Emblazoned on her cheek was an oldish map marked with a navigational compass. Her dress was not as magnificent as her mother's, having a much more restrained hemline, and made of a sombre black velvet.

The final figure was perhaps the most out of place, at least to Twilight. A young stallion about the age of the Cutie Mark Crusaders with a jet black mane and slate grey coat. He too shared the same navy blue eyes as the first stallion, though his cheek was devoid of markings. However his clothing is what made him out of place. A white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and stained by various paints and inks. His face was pressed so close to the notepad he was scribbling in it was practically shoved up his nose. Twilight could barely suppress a giggle at the sight of the fact that the young stallion was only wearing one shoe.

The herald also appeared to have noticed as he nearly lost his composure at the sight. A small snort came from his mouth, though he managed to pass it off as a cough before he stood at attention.

"Announcing His Majesty King Veteran Centurion, Master of the Warhorse Empire and defender of its borders. Her Royal Highness, Medical Officer Queen Healing Touch. His Royal Highness, Commanding Officer Prince Battle Ready, champion of Warhorse and keeper of Equitem. Her Royal Highness, Junior Strategic Advisory Officer Princess Tactical. And His Royal Highness Prince Blueprint."

A round of applause shattered the silence as the group reached Celestia. Veteran smiled and inclined his head to the surrounding room as they returned to their conversations. Celestia smiled at Veteran and the others. A genuine smile Twilight noticed.

"My dear Celestia!" Veteran cried, raising his hand in a welcoming gesture. "By Victoriam it's been an age! You haven't aged a day I see!"

"Dear Veteran," Celestia smiled, holding her hand out to the older looking stallion. "You flatter me."

"Is it flattery if it's true my dear?" Veteran asked, taking her white hand and gently pressing his lips to her knuckles. "Ah, if I were not already married to the mare of my dream's I may have made a fool of myself today."

"I do not doubt you would make a fool of yourself even as you are married to Healing," Luna commented, smiling like her sister. Veteran threw his head back and barked a laugh.

"My dear Luna. Celestia has only hinted at your brilliant wit. I only wish I knew you as well as she."

"Darling perhaps we should move on?" Healing asked. Veteran looked around and shrugged.

"To be perfectly honest these ponies all bore me to tears," he replied. "I would rather speak to our good allies from Equestria."

His eyes wandered over to Twilight and he smiled kindly at her.

"And this must be Princess Twilight Sparkle I assume," he said, holding his free hand out to her. Twilight smiled nervously and took it.

"P-pleasure to meet you sir," she stammered.

"Nervous I take it?" he asked. "Don't worry. Celestia will see you right. She never stops talking about you that's for certain. I can hardly get a word in edgewise without her talking about her star pupil."

"Really?" Twilight asked, her eyes flicking to Celestia, who was now talking with Healing.

"Absolutely," Veteran nodded emphatically. He then leaned in conspiratorially. "Between you and me you seem a much better Princess than my daughter. I can hardly get her to do anything."

"And what about your youngest?" she asked, nodding at the one-shooed pony she assumed was Blueprint.

"Who Blue?" Veteran asked, before chuckling. "He's always doodling. Got his head in the clouds unfortunately."

"I heard my name what's going on here?" Blueprint said suddenly appearing at Veteran's elbow. His father laughed and tousled his mane.

"Ears like a fox," he commented. "I was just saying to Princess Twilight here about how I can hardly get you to put that notebook down."

"Are you insinuating that's a bad thing father?" he asked. "I am creating art. A passion of mine which I pursue with great interest." He stopped and looked at Twilight before smiling widely and holding his hand out to her. "Sorry, Blueprint, at your service."

"Twilight Sparkle," she replied, shaking his hand. "You're an artist?"

"Of a sort," Blueprint admitted. "I will admit I have a knack for drawing, I just don't know what style is mine. I try and I try and still nothing but this!" He pointed at his blank cheek. He then shrugged and looked back at his notepad. "Still, could be worse."

"How so? If you don't mind me asking?" Twilight said.

"I don't know. But I know it could be worse," Blueprint said as he walked away, scribbling in his notebook.

"He seems... nice," Twilight said.

"Still young," Veteran said. "Head in the clouds and filled with all those romantic ideas. Unlike- oh dear what's he doing now?"

Twilight followed his line of sight. Sitting down at a side table was Shining Armour and the armoured figure. He had since removed his helmet to reveal his spiky black mane, dark grey coat and navy blue eyes. His Cutie Mark was a black shield emblazoned with a ivory white skull. Both he and Shining armour were resting their right elbow on the table. Their hands were clasped tight together and every few moments their clasped hands would either jerk one way or the other.

"Are they arm wrestling?" she asked.

"I barred him from flattening Shining on a sparring mat," Veteran sighed. "And yet somehow they still find a way to compete with each other. What else can go wrong today?"

The paint was peeling from the walls of the Crusader Club House. The boards were cracked and splitting as the branches of the tree it was built on grew thicker, longer and stronger. This didn't bother the the young mares as they clambered inside. They simply wanted to get away from everything. Even the sun.

The door practically fell from its hinges as Applebloom pushed it open with a gentle tap. They picked their way carefully through the holes in the floor and the other broken refuge, their sound of their movements muffled by the thick layer of dust on the floor. When they found themselves in a suitable spot by the window, the three sat: Applebloom perched on the window ledge, Sweetie Belle cross-legged on the floor and Scootaloo flew up to one of the branches that split through the wall. They sat in silence for a while, just basking in the memories.

"How long until we go back to Ponyville?" Sweetie Belle asked eventually.

"Who knows?" Applebloom sighed. "Maybe when everypony's gone from the ceremony?"

"That could be a few days, a week at most," Scootaloo said. "Where are we going to stay until then?"

"We could camp out here?" Sweetie Belle suggested. "It'd be just like old times."

"In this ol' thing?" Applebloom asked, kicking the window frame. "Can't believe Ah once fixed this place up. What was it you said it needed Scoots?"

"Tender Loving Care?" Scootaloo suggested.

"Nah that was Mah sis," Applebloom shook her head before she snapped her fingers in answer. "Ah know! You called it a Totally Lost Cause!"

"You did a good job of it though," Scootaloo said, slapping the tree branch. "I mean it's still here after all this time."

"Ah guess," Applebloom muttered.

"No guesswork about it!" Sweetie Belle exclaimed. "I mean think about it Bloom. You did this all yourself when you were just a little filly."

Applebloom smiled slightly. "Thanks Sweetie."

"Welcome."

They lapsed back into silence. Sweetie Belle began tracing drawings in the dust. Scootaloo adopted the position of her adoptive older sister and began to snooze on the tree branch. Applebloom was merely content to gaze at the sky.

Battle Ready tilted his head ever so slightly. It was an almost unnoticeable motion now that he had donned his helmet once more. A movement that made the barest disturbance in the air, as the metal of his helmet clicked gently. His father however clearly saw. His expression turned from one of mused patience to subtle concern.

"What is it?" he asked softly, trying not to move his lips.

They were sat on a raised platform, a little ways away from the royalty of Equestria. The way they were positioned, they would be in the perfect spot to watch the eclipse. Indeed, even as they sat waiting, the moon was just appearing over the horizon.

Battle turned his head to his father.

"I don't know what you mean father," Battle said.

"Don't lie to me Battle I know you suspect something," Veteran said simply. Battle clicked his tongue.

"Suspicion is too heavy a word for what I feel father," he replied slowly. "It is merely a feeling. An inkling that something shall go wrong. Something is amiss and it's bugging me."

"You're far too jumpy Commander. Equestria is perhaps the most peaceful kingdom of all out allies. What could possibly be at ill here?"

"Father I'm serious," Battle hissed. "Something will happen when the eclipse reaches it equinox."

"If you're so confident how about a little wager?"

"You want to put money on something that could potentially kill everyone here?"

"Do you lack that much confident in your inkling?"

Battle remained silent for a few moments and turned to face Celestia and Luna again. Veteran did the same. Moments trickled into minutes.

"Fifty drachma says I'm right," Battle said.

"The eclipse is starting if either of ya'll wanna watch," Applebloom said.

Scootaloo dropped from the branch she had been sleeping on and landed haphazardly on the ground. She was helped to her feet by Sweetie Belle as the she two got to her feet. The three Cutie Mark Crusaders crowded around the window and watched the sky above.

The shadow of the moon was just touching the edge of the shining disc that was Celestia's sun, which she had somehow dimmed to ensure that it didn't blind the sight of everyone who stared at it today. They sat in silence and simply watched as darkness covered the sun and, in turn, Equestria. It would have been something of distress if they didn't know beforehand that this was probably the most wonderful celebration of harmony they would ever see.

"It looks kinda pretty," Sweetie Belle said as the time passed still further.

"Yeah," Scootaloo said. "Maybe it's like a shooting star?"

"What? Ya'll mean when the eclipse is full ya'll make a wish an' everythin' gets better?" Applebloom asked. Scootaloo blushed.

"Maybe?"

Applebloom sighed. "Ah wish that were true. What Ah'd give for mah Cutie Mark. I mean Ah'd give mah... mah..."

"Soul?" Sweetie Belle suggested.

"Yeah!" Applebloom cried. "Ah'd give mah soul for my Cutie Mark."

"Me too," Scootaloo said.

"Me three," Sweetie Belle agreed.

"Your souls you say?" said a voice.

The three whipped around in surprise. They hadn;t heard anyone else come into the old clubhouse.

A tall figure stood behind them, stooping heavily under the low hanging ceiling of the clubhouse. He was dressed in a heavy, ragged black cloak. Clumps of earth clung to its material and it appeared parts of it were rotting away slightly. The figure was stooped at such an angle that they could see they rough slits into the cloak's back allowing his long, indigo wings to be free from its confines, and were folded neatly at his back. The feathers of the wings were in dire need of preening; most were crooked and bent in completely the wrong direction. The hood of the cloak was pulled over his face so that it lost in shadows. Only the tip of his muzzle could be seen in the quickly disappearing light of Celestia's sun, the same indigo as his wings.

"Who are you!?" Scootaloo cried, taking up a defensive stance in front of her two friends. The figure chuckled.

"Peace child. I mean you know harm," he said softly, his voice like velvet, yet with an undertone of danger. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Diabolus. Sometimes called the Wishmaker."

"What ya'll want?" Applebloom demanded. "This is mah home turf ya'll understand?"

"Oh I understand perfectly Applebloom," Diabolus answered.

Applebloom took a step back. "How'd ya'll know mah name?"

"I have my ways," he said cryptically. "But to answer your other question, I am here to help you my dears."

"With what?" Sweetie Belle squeaked, her horn glowing with a faint green aura to illuminate the clubhouse.

"Is it truly that complex? I wish to provide you with the answer to your prayers. I am here to give you your Cutie Marks."

"Horse-apples!" Applebloom spat. "Ah know that's impossible. Even unicorn magic couldn't make mah Cutie Mark appear."

"I am no unicorn," Diabolus said, pulling back the hood of his cloak. The ivory cone of his horn could be clearly seen thanks to Sweetie Belle's light. But his eyes were what caught Applebloom's attention. They were a deep, dull red. It was as if all of his energy had been drained out of him long ago and he was now running on empty.

"You're an alicorn?" Sweetie Belle breathed.

"I am indeed," Diabolus confirmed.

"Are you like Princess Celestia?" Scootaloo asked. Diabolus chuckled under his breath.

"After a fashion. While she and her sister may use their magic to raise and lower the sun, my magis is used to grant ponies wishes.... for a fee of course."

"Not interested," Scootaloo said swiftly.

"Come come Scootaloo," Diabolus tutted. "You cannot get something for nothing. And aren't you so so tired of ponies looking at you as if you're some kind of freak?"

Scootaloo flinched and looked away. Diabolus turned his attention to Sweetie Belle.

"How about you little Sweetie Belle? Wouldn't you finally like to know what your purpose is in life? Or are you content with doing odd jobs for your sister in the back room of the boutique?"

Sweetie Belle's bottom lip quivered. Diabolus' eyes slid to look at Applebloom.

"Applebloom... wouldn't you finally like to get back at all those ponies who doubted you? To trot up to them and say: 'This is who I am meant to be!' and be proud of it?"

Applebloom nearly looked away. Nearly. But she knew he was right. Everyone kept telling her that her Cutie Mark would come eventually if she was patient enough. But she had long since run out of patience. She had been waiting for her Cutie Mark for so many long and painful years now. She needed her Cutie Mark, and this might just well be her only chance to get it.

"Deal."

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle looked at her shocked. Applebloom turned her head to look at them, but gave no other explanation. The two looked at each, before they two mumbled ascent. Diabolus smiled.

"Your souls.... for your Cutie Marks?"

"Yes," Applebloom confirmed. "Jus' get it over with."

Diabolus horn glowed with a bitter red light. In one hand there appeared a long roll of parchment. At the bottom was a series of three dotted lines, evenly spaced out. In the other hand he offered them a black quill pen.

"Please sign here," he said. Applejack was the first to take the quill, quickly scribbling her name down on the first dotted line. With a resigned look Scootaloo took the quill from her and slowly wrote her own name down on the second line. Sweetie Belle, her hand shaking with nervousness, signed her name on the final line. As soon as she had finished the quill disappeared in a puff of red smoke. The scroll quickly followed, and there was an evil gleam in Diabolus eyes now.

"It is done," he said, his voice quiet. "When you three awaken... you shall have the greatest Cutie Marks you could ever want."

Applebloom felt a terrible grip around her heart. She gasped and collapsed to her knees, gripping her chest, where her heart was beating frantically under her ribs. She felt as if her very heart was being ripped from her body with a terrible wrenching, clawing sensation. She sobbed with agony, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. Judging from the cries of pain from besides her, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were going through a similar sensation. Outside of her own screams and that of her friends, Applebloom had but one thought.

What have Ah done?

Chapter One: Concequence

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Chapter One: Consequence

The boundaries between life and death are at best shadowy and vague...

The words to describe how Applebloom felt as she woke up had either not been invented, or were to feeble to use. The closest description that one might have for the pain that she was feeling would be this: She felt as though something white hot had bored into her chest and nestled in her heart, burning her from the inside, before its fire had spread through every blood vessel in her body, as each and every one of them had then been ripped from their respective homes, up through her skin and discarded by the wayside. As previously mentioned, this is but a rough approximation for what she was currently feeling. She may have described it as such if she had been able to formulate a description through the haze of utter and total agony she was experiencing.

She didn't know how long she lay there before the pain subsided to a degree in which she could even twitch her fingers. Perhaps an age? Maybe more. It was even longer before her senses returned to her, though her eyelids remained to heavy to open.

Her ears were able to pick up the faint sound of Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle breathing. A good sign, even though their breathing was faint. Come to think of it, Applebloom's own breath was almost non-existent. It was still there, but it was faint. She was vaguely aware that she was lying on her front. Her ears detected the faint sound of wind whistling in the distance. A high, malicious sound that sent a shiver down her spine. Her sense of touch was something that worried her however. She was fairly certain she had blacked out in their old clubhouse. What she felt beneath her face and hands was not the smooth and worn grain of the floorboards of the clubhouse, but coarse, dry and bitter earth.

Eventually she managed to find the frame of mind to open her eyes. Cracked and dry earth met her eyes. A nervous feeling began to coil in her stomach as she began to slowly, jarringly push herself to her feet. Every motion sent a lance of pain through her joints, but it wasn't as strong as it was before. Applebloom managed to gingerly clamer to her feet and straighten, relatively upright.

What befell her eyes was something she never thought or conceived she would see.

The crystal blue skies of Equestria she was so used to seeing everyday had been replaced by a burning orange, as if the very sky had been set alight. The white clouds were no more, replaced by churning black blankets of storm and evil. Where she and the other Crusaders had fallen unconscious on the floor of their clubhouse, they were no on the barren, almost desert-like ground. The clubhouse itself was nowhere to be seen and the tree it had been built upon was a dried and burnt husk. A shell where life had once lived, for however briefly. Applebloom turned around several times, her heart breaking at what she saw. The trees her family had spent hundreds of years cultivating, harvesting and caring for year after year, were dried up and dead. Black charcoal sticks that dotted the landscape, shriveled and decrepit.

"What happened here....?" she breathed.

She didn't notice as Scootaloo began to slowly clamber to her feet as well. She didn't see anything but the scorched ruins of everything she had known. Without even knowing it, she turned to face the direction where she knew the red farmhouse she called home stood. She hoped it did indeed still stand there.

"Applebloom?" Scootaloo hacked, her voice sounding dry, but Applebloom didn't hear her.

She took one, uncertain step in the direction of the farmhouse. And as she stepped she couldn't help but take another, slightly faster. Her eyes were filling with silent, terrified tears as she began to walk home. A walk that soon became an unsteady jog. She didn't hear Scootaloo repeat her name as she began to run faster and faster. She didn't know what she would find when she got there but she prayed that it wasn't a burnt husk like the orchard.

She quickly left the still dazed Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle behind as she sprinted as fast as she was able to. Her thoughts flew through her head quicker than the dry branches that whipped past her face. She stumbled a little but she didn't notice. She simply kept running.

It was only when her lungs felt like they were on fire and her legs about to melt did she stop. She collapsed once more onto her hands and knees, panting heavily. A few minutes later she looked slowly up, trembling at what she might see. Immediately, she wished she hadn't.

The white picket fence that bordered the yard around the farmhouse was burnt to almost cinders. The well was a crumbling pile of stone around a small pit, filled in with something black and mulch like. The parts of the farmhouse and barn that were still standing were blackened and burnt, as if a dragon had difficulty whether or not it wanted to eat it, or burn it to the ground.

What really drove the hammer home was the graves.

A field of roughly hewn headstones was spread out before her like a sick twisted version of the burnt orchards that lay behind her. Applebloom didn't even need to check a single one to know in her heart of hearts that the entire Apple family lay before her.

She didn't know how she managed to walk into the middle of the graveyard or her kin. She didn't know what she was looking for. All she knew was that she felt numb. Like the blow had knocked everything from her bones. Not even grief could reach her now. She was beyond everything as she looked around. No names leapt out at her in particular. She simply took it all in as a single picture.

Applebloom didn't immediately realise when she had dropped to her knees. Time just seemed to stop. It was then she looked at the graves in front of her did the full meaning of what she was looking at crash over her in a tidal wave of horror.

Big Macintosh
A kind brother, and the kindest stallion I have ever had the pleasure to meet
He shall be missed

Granny Smith
The wisest and greatest mare I have ever known
May she rest in piece

"No..." she croaked, reaching her hand out to trace her fingers over the words carved on the graves before her. "This... this... i-i-it just can't be happenin'.... it's a dream... it's gotta be a dream...."

Her fingers brushed the words of her brother's name. She felt the coarseness of the stone, yet the smooth contours of where his name had been carved suggested the sharp edge she knew must have been there at one point had been weathered away. It had been here for some time. A few years? Maybe more. Either way, Applebloom could feel so much detail. Too much for her to simply make up while asleep.

"It's real..." she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. "You're.... you're really..."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away and looked up at who stood there. Scootaloo didn't say a word. She merely knelt down beside Applebloom and looked at her. Applebloom choked and flung her arms around her neck, burying her muzzle in her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Scootaloo held her tight, but said nothing. She simply let Applebloom grieve. At some point, Applebloom didn't know exactly when, she realised Sweetie Belle was also embracing her.

No one spoke. The silence was broken only by Applebloom's sobs.

Applebloom was curled up on her side. Dried tears crusted the fur of her face but she didn't care. She didn't feel the dirt or grime beneath her, or the dry tear tracks on her face. She hugged her legs to her chest, her head resting in Sweetie Belle's lap. The unicorn filly was brushing her hand through her mane, murmuring soothing sounds. They may have been words but Applebloom didn't care.

Scootaloo was sitting nearby, looking at the sky, her wings buzzing in agitation. She kept glancing back at Applebloom and Sweetie Belle.

Eventually Applebloom pushed herself upright.

"Ah don't wanna be here anymore,"she muttered. "Take me away from here."

"Are you sure?" Sweetie Belle asked. Applebloom glared at her.

"This ain't mah home Sweetie. Whatever it is - no I don't care what it is! I jus' wanna go!"

Sweetie Belle blinked before she nodded and got to her feet. Truth be told if it weren't for Applebloom's distress she would have left this place long before hand. The place was sick, twisted. Like something out of a horror story or a nightmare. Looking at Scootaloo she could tell the pegasus felt the same.

With shaking legs Applebloom slowly got to her feet. She sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand against her eye. Where she expected dampness however there was none. She reasoned she simply had no tears left to be shed.

The three fillies walked through the graveyard once more. This time it was far worse for Applebloom. Now she was aware and it made the journey so, so much worse. It was a much longer journey, the sheer volume of dead family members weighing down all over again on her shoulders.

The graves stopped a little way short of the gate. A big wooden sign had been staked into the ground just before, behind the last grave of the Apple family. Applebloom could only assume whatever the sign said was written on the other side. She knew reading it would mean seeing another dead family member's name but she reasoned that it might offer some answers.

As they reached it Applebloom turned to read the sign.

Never forget
Never forgive
Famine will pay
Apple Massacre - Year MMXLI of the Demon, August 13th

"Year of the Demon?" Applebloom muttered. "That don't sound right."

"Bloom," Scootaloo whispered. "I think you need to see this even more than that."

Applebloom looked up at her and saw that both Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were staring at the grave. She didn't want to look. But she knew it had to know what it was. So she looked.

And her blood turned to ice.

Applebloom
A beautiful and kind filly, taken before her time
Too soon...

"W-w-what?" she stammered, taking a few shocked steps backwards. "Th-that can't be right! That ain't me!"

"'Bloom," Scootaloo said, reaching a hand to gently touch her. Applebloom flinched as though she had been struck.

"That ain't me!" she screamed, looking almost mad. "That can't be me! Ah'm not... I can't be..."

"Applebloom!" Scootaloo cried, gripping her by the shoulders. "Applebloom look at me!"

"Ah'm not DEAD!" she wailed. "Am Ah?"

"Look at me!" Scootaloo grunted as her friend began to flail madly in her grasp.

Applebloom pushed Scootaloo away, the wild, almost broken look in her eyes bordering on madness. "Thi-this has gotta be a dream. There's no way this is happenin'. Ah can't... mah family... just a dream. A dream. Just a d-"

Of all the things Scootaloo thought she would never see, the slap Sweetie Belle gave Applebloom was the most unexpected of that list. The unicorn simply strode over to the gibbering earth pony and swiped her open palm across her cheek with a harsh crack.

Applebloom froze as she felt the sting of Sweetie Belle's palm against her face. She stood, frozen in the position she found herself in, her eyes wide in shock. Eventually she turned back to face Sweetie Belle. The smaller of the two was in much the same state as Applebloom. Frozen almost in the exact same position after she had struck Applebloom. The only difference was the hand that had done the deed was visibly shaking.

"Are you quite finished?" she breathed. Applebloom gulped and nodded. Sweetie Belle sighed with relief and dropped her hand to her side. "Sorry 'Bloom."

"Ah sh-should be sorry," Applebloom muttered. "Ah guess Ah kind of..."

"Hey," Scootaloo said, giving her a light hug. "It's cool. We get it. I think if anyone saw something like that they'd go a little nuts."

Applebloom hugged Scootaloo back, Sweetie Belle moving in to crape her arms around her friends. The three eventually broke apart and looked out towards Ponyville.

"Ah hope Ponyville isn't like here," Applebloom murmured.

"You just had to say it didn't you?" Scootaloo sighed, dread evident in her voice.

The outermost houses in Ponyville were little more the blasted ruin and death. The few ponies that lived there looked sick and pale, their bony forms huddled together by tiny fires for warmth. At the sight of Applebloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle they shied away, a fearful look in their sunken eyes.

As they reached the inner section of Ponyville it became more and more obvious there was something blatantly wrong. Sugarcube Corner was no more. Though the building itself was still there the furnishings and decorations that had made it seem like a decorative cake were gone, leaving the mortar and wood that had been underneath bare. The windows were grimy and needed cleaning and the whole place smelled of sweat and alcohol. A sign swung on rusty hinges above the door with cracked and pealing red paint making a splatter mark and golden letters revealing the building to be called 'The Bloody Nose'. Scootaloo voice her idea that it may be some kind of tavern.

The town hall was in much the same state as the outer district. In dire need of repair, the roof was caved in, the windows cracked and the woodwork burnt or otherwise rotting away.

Where the oak tree of Golden Oaks Library had been there was some kind of monument or memorial made out of bronze. From what they could see without going closer, it appeared to be a pegasus standing tall and proud holding in one hand a flag, in the other a sword. His expression was filled with anger and sadness in equal measure.

It took Scootaloo a few moments to realise the flag the pegasus held was that of Cloudsdale.

"Hey Scoots! Where ya goin'?" Applebloom called after her as she sprinted towards the statue.

Scootaloo ignored her, only slowing down before the statue of the pegasus. It was definitely bronze, or something like it. The Pegasus appeared to be standing on a storm cloud. The entire thing rested upon a square pedestal, which was surrounded by reefs of flowers and messages. A handful of newspapers clippings had been left by the statue as well. Engraved into the metal was a short epitaph.

The Fall of Cloudsdale
MMXL October 9th
Lost but Never Forgotten

She read the words over and over again, their meaning lost on her. She snatched up on of the newspaper clippings, scanning the title of the story: 'War Strikes Once More - Cloudsdale Burns'. She dropped the newspaper as if it were something boiling and rancid. She reached for another, picking it up with shaking fingers: 'Thousands Dead in Cloudsdale Attack'.

Hot tears scalded her face as she let the second piece of paper fall from her fingertips. Her knees shook and fell out from under her. Two arms however snaked around her, holding her up. She didn't register these facts however. Her mind was reeling in horror at what she had just seen and read. Cloudsdale gone? Though she had come to call Ponyville home in recent times that still didn't mean Cloudsdale wasn't where she had been born. Still didn't change the fact she had spent the first few years of her life in the Pegasus city.

How could it be gone?

Why was it gone? What had prompted the destruction of an entire city?

She knew such a question was as pointless as asking why someone had attacked and killed the Apple family. Peaceful ponies... slaughtered without rhyme or reason.

She wiped away her tears on the back of her hand. What happened to Applebloom's family... what happened to Cloudsdale... it made her sad yes but more than sad... it made her angry. Worse than angry she was on the brink of furious, the grief at such a heavy blow as the loss of her first home nothing more than fuel for the fire. Her hands curled into fists, and as she straightened up, she realised she was shaking with anger.

"Scoots?"

Applebloom's voice, from right behind her. Obviously it had been her who had held Scootaloo up. Scootaloo took a deep breath and turned around. Applebloom was looking at her. Sweetie Belle too. They seemed tentative, like how Scootaloo herself had been around Applebloom.

"Scoots... are... are you okay?" Applebloom asked. Scootaloo took a deep breath in through her nose.

"Yeah," she managed to croak eventually, her vice seizing up with barely suppressed rage. She gave the statue behind her a quick glance before she looked back to Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. "Let's go. I don't wanna look at this anymore."

It was inevitable.

Sweetie Belle knew it was inevitable.

The path they were walking had taken them past the schoolhouse and towards the other side of Ponyville. Miraculously the building itself was intact, though it was not painted red and was instead bare wood. The route they walked from their was familiar to Sweetie Belle. She had taken it several times with her sister.

She knew they would wind up right in front of the Carousel Boutique.

As with everything else around them, the boutique was a far cry from sheik, unique or magnifique. The building was little more than ash and rubble. Applebloom and looked awkwardly around as she realised where they were. Scootaloo watched as Sweetie Belle walked towards the ruin.

"Sweetie?" Applebloom asked. "Are... are you okay?"

Sweetie said nothing. The building her sister had made for her passion for fashion was nothing but dust on the ground. She could even see the remains of a clotheshorse nearby. Yet Sweetie Belle saw telltale signs that this was not an attack. No. It was a statement. A bold statement. Striking and imposing. Dazzling and subtle.

The Boutique had been burnt to the ground by the very mare who had owned it.

"Rarity did this," Sweetie Belle said. It was with utmost certainty that she spoke.

"What'd you say Sweetie?" Scootaloo called.

"Rarity," Sweetie replied. "Rarity did this."

"How can ya tell?" Applebloom asked.

"Trust me. I know."

"Well... why would she do this?" Scootaloo asked.

Sweetie Belle didn't reply. She simply walked towards the ruined clotheshorse. She pushed it gently with one finger. This simply contact caused the object to break into fragments of ash. As the ash fell, something caught Sweetie's eye. A silvery something, lost in the dirt. She bent down and began to dig out the object. As she scraped off some of the dirt, she recognised the object.

It was Rarity's treasure box. She knew this because it was where Rarity kept the fire ruby Spike had given her. She wondered what it contained now.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she pried the box open and tipped the contents out. A few newspaper clippings and small trinkets fell out. The first was a heavy silver pocket watch on a long chain. Their father's no doubt. There was also a small hair clip, shaped like a butterfly. Their mother's. The third trinket was something Sweetie did not expect. It was a picture in a small frame. A picture of a young Rarity holding a small baby filly. A white baby filly.

Her.

She replaced the trinkets and picked up a newspaper clipping. Her blood turned to ice.

Double Homicide - Pestilence Public Murder of Father and Daughter
A shocking day as to add to the expected and unfortunate losses from the outskirts, Pestilence himself arrived in Ponyville today with but a single purpose. Murder. With no cause or immediate reason, Pestilence brutally murdered the young unicorn filly Sweetie Belle. After her father's outrage, Pestilence killed Magnum Belle as well in equal brutality. See page 3 for full story,

Her hands shook, tears blurred her vision and ice ran through her veins. This was wrong. It was some kind of twisted perversion of reality. She couldn't accept this. Her father had been too kind, too good to be simply murdered.

"What is this place?" Sweetie Belle asked, looking up at the red sky.

And pain exploded across the right side of her face as if she was being branded. White hot agony lanced through her skin. She howled into the sky, gripping her face as she fell writhing into the dirt. Scootaloo and Applebloom took half a dozen steps towards her, before they too screamed in pain. For the second time that day, Sweetie Belle blacked out from the pain.

Chapter Two: The Bloody Nose

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Chapter Two: The Bloody Nose

There are moments when even to the sober eye of reason, the world of our sad humanity may assume the semblance of Hell...

Sweetie Belle mumbled softly in a fitful sleep, her eyes slowly opening. She expected to still be in a similar state of pain to the one she had passed out in. Yet the worst she could say for herself was that she was feeling sore. Her right cheek was bizarrely numb for some reason but other than that she actually felt fine. There was an itching sensation on her forehead. With a small grunt she lifted her hand to scratch the irritating sensation away, opening her eyes as she did so.

She looked up not to the burnt orange sky she had passed out looking at, but to a sloped ceiling, made of wooden slats. That wasn't to say however that hey were not coloured orange. In a sense they were, as flickering orange lights danced across the wooden slats. When she noticed this, Sweetie Belle finally detected the faint crackling and spitting sound of a nearby fire. It was also at this point that some signals finally reached her brain from her hand. The itching sensation on her forehead appeared to be moist. She patted the space around her horn before her fingers pressed onto some damp, soft and cool. She gripped it gently and lifted it up to look at it. A drop of water from the damp towel dropped onto her face with a soft splat.

She shuddered and threw the towel away carelessly, letting it drop to the floor with a thump. There was movement somewhere nearby, followed by soft footsteps as someone approached. She looked up and just managed to catch a glimpse of the someone bending down and putting the towel back on her forehead.

"Please," said the figure, and Sweetie knew from the tone it was a mare. "You hit your head near the base of your horn when you passed out. This is all I can do to reduce the swelling."

Sweetie Belle blinked, her vision clearing enough to see the face above her. It took her a few moments to recognise the mare her swam before her gaze.

"Nurse... Redheart?" she whispered softly. The alabaster mare gave a soft, sad smile.

"I wouldn't know about that young one," she said, her voice a little raspier than Sweetie Belle remembered. "I am just a simple healer. Doing what little I can."

She made as if she wanted to move away, but stopped for a moment, looking down at Sweetie Belle, in particular her cheek, the one that felt so incredibly numb. She seemed to debate something internally for a few moments before she turned away. Sweetie Belle watched her go, until she saw the fire that illuminated the room, set into a stone mantle. On either side of its fiery glow were the huddled figures of Applebloom and Scootaloo, hunched up, each under a roughly woven blanket.

Sweetie Belle peeled back the covers of her bed and slid her legs to the floor and got unsteadily to her feet, before padding gingerly over to where Scootaloo and Applebloom crouched. They looked up when she approached and smiled when she sat by them.

"Where are we?" Sweetie Belle asked, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded. Applebloom handed her what appeared to be a tin cup, filled with an amber liquid. She smiled and took a sip, before gagging at the burning sensation that trickled down her throat after the liquid. "Wait, better question, what is this?"

Applebloom gave a bitter chuckle. "Manehatten Bourbon," she said, taking a sip from her own cup. "It's cheap 'n' stings like an angry hornet but at least it tastes nice."

Sweetie Belle paused at that, having finally stopped her coughing fit and finally allowed the taste of the Bourbon to grace her palate. She had to admit that Applebloom was right. Though it wasn't anything compared to the fantastic Apple family cider she was used to drinking, the Bourbon had a distinctly fruity taste that lingered on the tongue. It was a pleasant taste, and one that Sweetie Belle thought she might get used to.

"I think I like it," she said, though uncertainty was definite in her voice. Scootaloo gave a small chuckle. "So where are we anyway?"

"The Bloody Nose," Scootaloo said. "Like I said, it's an inn."

"How'd we get here?" Sweetie Belle asked. "I mean... weren't we outside the boutique?"

"We were," Applebloom confirmed. "'Parrently Red Heart and a few others found us. and brought us here."

"Why not a hospital?" Sweetie Belle said, frowning. "I mean, surely Ponyville General-"

"Let me stop you right there," Scootaloo said, holding up her hand. "What makes you think that Ponyville General is even standing? The library is gone, Sugar Cube Corner is gone, Cloudsdale is gone, the boutique is gone, Sweet Apple Acres is gone. Everything we remember is gone. This isn't Ponyville anymore Sweetie. I don't know where the hell we are but it sure as shit ain't home."

Sweetie Belle blushed and looked into her mug. Her cheek throbbed and she rubbed her palm against it, wincing as she did so.

"Yeah, I know that feeling," Applebloom muttered. "Didn't think getting our Cutie Marks'd hurt so much."

"What?" Sweetie Belle gasped. Even this, small piece of seemingly insignificant news lightened her spirits ever so slightly. Scootaloo however gave a bitter chuckle.

"Don't get too excited Sweetie. They aren't our Cutie Marks."

She looked at Sweetie Belle then, and Sweetie Belle's eyes widened. The cheek she hadn't seen, Scootaloo's right cheek. The same one that so hurt Sweetie Belle. A black mark, like a inkblot of darkest night decorated Scootaloo's face, and in the centre, a crystal white, crescent moon.

Sweetie Belle blanched, shocked. "But... that's... that's"

"Princess Luna's Cutie Mark?" Scootaloo supplied for her. "I know."

"But... no two ponies have the same Cutie Mark," Sweetie Belle protested. "How can you have Princess Luna's?"

"It's not just her," Applebloom muttered, and looked up. Sweetie Belle reeled back again, shocked. Applebloom didn't bear Princess Luna's Cutie Mark. Instead on her cheek was a brilliant yellow circle surrounded by tendrils of orange flame. A brilliant sun. The Cutie Mark of Princess Celestia.

"That's not possible," Sweetie Belle said, swallowing.

"Yeah well, here's the real kicker," Scootaloo said, holding up a small hand mirror and handing it to Sweetie Belle. She looked at it, tilting her face so that she could look at her own cheek. She dropped the mirror like it was something evil, but the image she had seen was burned into her mind. It was even more impossible than what she had seen on Scootaloo and Applebloom's faces. A six point pink star overlaid on a second white star of equal points, surround by five more of the same.

"That's... that's..." Sweetie Belle croaked. Scootaloo edged closer to Sweetie and slung an arm over her shoulder and hugged her.

"I know I know," she said softly. Sweetie Belle shook her head.

"Twilight... Twilight's Cutie Mark is on my face," she whispered. "That's... that's just... wrong."

"Ain't it just," Applebloom said. Her shoulders sagged. "Ah did this," she mumbled. "This is all my fault."

"Now where in the heck did you get that idea from?" Scootaloo snapped. "As far as I recall you don't have a time machine or any reason to go steal Cutie Marks from the Princesses."

"Ah worked it out," Applebloom muttered. "While you two were still asleep. We signed that deal. That, Diaboles guy... he said he'd give us Cutie Marks for our souls. Well we got our Cutie Marks and we done been sent to Tartarus for it."

"If that's the case then this isn't your fault AB, it's our fault," Scootaloo said defiantely.

"Yeah!" Sweetie Belle chimed in. "Like you said we all signed that deal."

"But ah was the first," she mumbled. "If Ah hadn't, then you two wouldn't either. An' now... now my family's...."

"Okay first off we don't do everything you do because you think it's a smart idea," Scootaloo sighed. "I mean we all do stupid shit and we do it together because we're friends. We all wanted our Cutie Marks AB, just because you were the first to sell your soul for one doesn't mean you can take the fall for me and Sweetie Belle too."

"Yeah," Sweetie Belle agreed nodding. "We're all equally to blame for whatever's happened. Stop trying to be a martyr."

Applebloom frowned. "Martyr? What's a martyr?"

"Nothing, what's a martyr with you?" Sweetie Belle said, smiling softly. Despite the situation, Applebloom smiled. Scootaloo gave a chuckle as well, shaking her head.

"That was terrible," she said, before turning to Applebloom. "So yeah, we're in this together, so we share the blame together. That's the first thing, and the second thing is that that wasn't your family AB." Applebloom looked up sharply. "Your family is still out there. Your family is in Ponyville, watching the Eclipse. Just like Cloudsdale is still out there. Just like the Boutique is still selling the best damn dresses in Equestria. Whatever's gone wrong, we can fix it."

"Yeah!" Sweetie Belle and Applebloom cried out in agreement.

Scootaloo raised her tin cup into the air. "One more crusade," she said solemnly. "Cutie Mark Crusader World Savers!"

"Cutie Mark Crusader World Savers!" Applebloom and Sweetie Belle chorused, clashing their own mugs with Scootaloo's before bringing them to their lips and draining them. The tin cups each fell to the floor with a quick clatter as the three finished teir drinks and leaned close together.

"So," Sweetie Belle said quietly. "What's our first move?"

"We need to find out what's happened recently," Applebloom said. "We know that Cloudsdale's gone, but I think we can all assume that happened years ago by now."

"Yeah," Scootaloo said nodding in agreement. "There's no way they would've been able to make a stature that fast."

"So we gather information then?" Sweetie Belle asked for confirmation. "How do we do that then?"

"Well how'd they do it in the movies?" Applebloom asked.

"Oh!" Scootaloo said, snapping her fingers. "I remember talking to Button Mash about something like this. He said that the best way of getting information in games is to ask about in inns or stuff like that."

Applebloom smiled slightly. "Well Ah guess all we have to do is go downstairs and ask a few questions."

"We can't ask anything too obvious though," Sweetie Belle said. "We don't know anything about this place. We can't risk raising suspicion."

"Agreed," Scootaloo said. "We stay under the radar. Covert. Like in those Con Mane movies."

"Secret agents," Applebloom nodded, getting to her feet, "Let's go."

"Wait," Sweetie Belle said. "If we go down, what happens if someone asks us a question?"

"Yeah," Scootaloo said. "We need some kind of explanation as to why we're asking questions."

"Good call," Applebloom said, sitting back down again. "So... what's our story?"

"Okay so let's go over it again so we don't forget it," Scootaloo said, looking pointedly at Sweetie Belle.

"I won't," Sweetie Belle huffed, folding her arms.

"We're orphans from out of town," Applebloom said. "Our orphanage was burned down and we've been traveling cross-country for a while now and we're confused and disorientated."

"Not exactly a whole lie is it?" Scootaloo said.

"Great, let's see if it works then," Sweetie Belle said, the three of them getting to their feet.

The door opened up to a small stairway, slinking downwards to where the three of them could hear the sounds of many ponies talking. There was no laughter however. No music, nothing they associated with a bar or an inn in the past. They looked nervously at one another before the began to make their way downstairs. The floorboards creaked ominously as, one by one, the reached the landing.

A single corridor greeted them, with bare wooden walls and doors at irregular intervals, marked with crudely fashioned brass numbers. As they passes each door a new noise reached their ears. Sometimes it was the groan of someone in pain. Other times it was the sputtering of a drunk, coughing up the last remnants of bile from their throats. And once it was the creek of bed springs, almost drowning out the moan of mare and stallion. Almost.

They carried on regardless, reaching a second, more open staircase, and the sounds of conversation were louder now. They crept downstairs, fearful of being discovered though they did not know why. Their own silence made every other noise seem much louder by comparison, and every sound that reached them made their apprehension rise higher.

When the reached the ground floor they came out into what the recognised vaguely as the ground floor of Sugar Cube Corner. It had a similar layout at least. There were tables and chairs and lots of ponies sitting down. But the tables were more numerous, the chairs more clustered together, and the ponie were looking dour and miserable. The counter that they remembered for selling pies and cakes and other such things, was now an wooden bar, behind which a grizzled earth pony stallion stood. The shelves behind the bar were similar to the ones they recognised, but instead of holding jars of sweets, they held bottles of spirits and various glasses.

They looked at each other nervously, before they made their way over to the bar, attempting to avoid anyone who got too close and keeping their heads down. No one really paid them any heed. They were too busy with their own mutterings to care about three young mares like them. And the ones that did they tried to avoid eye-contact with.

The bartender looked at them as the approached, wiping down a dirty glass with an equally dirty rag. Despite his grizzled and rough appearance, there was a kind edge to his eyes, and he set three glasses on the bar, filling them with more bourbon.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff. "Have a seat ladies."

Applebloom looked at the glass, then at her friends, before looking at the bartender. "We... we don't have any money Mister."

The bartender nodded. "And I didn't ask for any. I seen your type before. Drifters. Never really given a chance. No home, no parents. No... anything. I'm not the kinda scum that'd take money from the poor. The Bloody Nose ain't for those who got cash kid. It's for those who've got nothin'."

Applebloom looked at him, before taking a seat and taking a drink. "Thank you."

The bartender snorted. "Don't mention it." He watched as Scootaloo and Applebloom sat down on the ragged barstools either side of Applebloom. "Name's Hard Liquor by the way."

The three mares introduced themselves one by one and Liquor nodded to each in turn, a twinkle in his eyes showing all the smile he needed.

"Never seen you three before now," he said as they drank. "You new in Ponyville?"

Applebloom nodded. "Orphanage burnt down," she said. Liquor cursed under his breath.

"Ain't they got nothin' better to do than torment little uns?" he asked himself. "When was this?"

"We don't really know how long," Scootaloo supplied. "Lost track of the days."

Liquor nodded sagely. "Suppose you three are a bit disorientated then?" They nodded.

"We don't know what's been happening since we left the orphanage," Scootaloo said. "And nopony there really talked about Ponyville much."

"There ain't much to say about Ponyville," Liquor shrugged. "Pirates come through from time to time. We have a deal see. I take care of refugees for 'em, the Cap gives me booze she's managed to get from Stampede. And as for news, well, you haven't missed much. Let's see... well the annual rabbit hunt was last week... uh well else happened?... Oh, the Elusive managed to break into the Manehatten first bank a few days ago. Don't they'll do with four-thousand scraps but they'll find a good use for it... Ah that's about it really."

"There isn't anything more you can tell us?" Applebloom asked.

"Not a whole lot kid," Liquor shook his head. "Word doesn't come through Ponyville often. Not unless you count the Autumn Equinox. His Majesty is sure to make a big speech from his castle in Stampede."

The venom that dripped from his tongue as he spoke the words, 'his majesty,' washed over them like a ripple.

"His Majesty?" Sweetie Belle asked tentatively.

"Yeah. The high and mighty King Discord."

Chapter Three: The Pale White Rider

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Chapter Three: The Pale White Rider

The World Outside Had Its Own Rules, and Those Rules Were Not Human...

The door to the Bloody Nose was suddenly kicked in and a figure rushed inside, followed by several young foals, all in grubby clothes with dirty, soot stained faces and arms. The first figure was a tall, hooded someone, lost in brown robes. Whoever they were ushered in the foals until the last little figure stumbled through the doorway. The first figure paused, looked back out through the doorway and dashed back outside again. Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo watched as the figure came back in again with an unconscious unicorn filly slumped in her arms.

Someone dashed over from a nearby table and it took Applebloom a moment to realise that it was Redheart. She took the filly from the figure and carried her gently to the stairs where she disappeared swiftly from sight. The other foals were swiftly ushered into place around a few empty tables and drinks were quickly handed out by bartenders at Hard Liquors' behest. The hooded figure watched to make sure that the young foals were all provided with drinks before they wandered over to the bar and sat down next to Scootaloo.

"Hey Hard," came a tired, flat voice from beneath the hood, and Applebloom felt as if she recognised the mare's voice if only slightly. "Sorry about saddling you like this out of nowhere but-"

Hard lifted a hand to silence her apologise. "You're doing a good thing here. They have nowhere. Literally nowhere. Providing a home for them even if it's for a little while isn't something that needs an excuse or an apology. We'll be sure to treat 'em right."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Hard said smiling. "You want the usual?"

"Don't act like you don't know me."

Hard barked a laugh and pulled a bottle of sarsaparilla from beneath the bar and handed it to her. "How long are you staying in Ponyville this time?"

"For as long as I can I think," she sighed and pushed back her hood. Applebloom had to hold back a gasp as she saw the mare's face. Her mane was razor straight and her eyes were older and filled with such a weight she had never seen in them before, but there was no mistaking that bubblegum pink coat, that hot pink mane, those baby blue eyes and the Cutie Mark of three party balloons.

Pinkie Pie twisted off the cap of her sarsaparilla and necked the bottle for ten seconds straight before she slammed it back onto the bar.

"He still after you then Pinks?" Hard asked.

"You're looking at The Rider's Number One Bounty," Pinkie said with an air of disinterested pride. "Still, managed to get a leg up on him this time I think. He might be a week behind? Maybe a little less? I'll be outta here before the equinox at any rate."

"Any idea where you're headin' next?"

"Somewhere to lay low," Pinkie muttered, swirling her drink around in the bottle. "There's a lil' place in Manehatten I can use for a bit. Provided no one else is at least."

"Back to the Rebel's Nest eh?" Hard muttered under his breath. "Can't say I blame you."

"You know about that?" Pinkie asked. Hard chuckled.

"The Rebel's Nest is Manehatten answer to the Bloody Nose. Where do you think I send people who need to make a run for it? 'Snot like I can send them east."

"Why's that?" Sweetie Belle blurted out. Pinkie gave her a sideways look from the corner of her eye.

"Where you been living?" she asked, here eyes narrowing in distrust.

"Easy Pinks," Hard said. "Their orphans. 'Pparently their orphanage was burned down a few weeks ago."

"Yeah," Applebloom chimed in. "They didn't really talk al lot about the outside world. Not a lot of news swung past us."

"That right?" Pinkie muttered, looking away and drinking from her bottle again.

"Take it easy Pinkie we'd know if they worked for him," Hard said, a touch firm. Pinkie sighed and rubbed her eyes as he looked at the three young Mares. "Towns and Cities towards the east of Equestria are closer to the gates of Tartarus, and so you get a lot more demon shit going on there. A lot more ponies getting hurt. A lot more fighting and a lot more monstrous shit. I seen that place a few times. I've run with the Captain a fare few times getting supplies for Ponyville and some moola on the side; been with Pinks more times than I can count to rescue ponies trapped in the eastern slave camps. Trust me. You don't go east unless you got nowhere left to go. Heck I'd rather swim for it than go east."

Pinkie sighed and looked at the barman. "I'm tired Hard."

"I'm sure Redheart'll get you a bed set up," Hard said, touching his arm to Pinkie's shoulder. She shook her head, resting her elbow on the bar and cradling propping her face up again it.

"I'm tired of running Hard," she groaned, slumping slightly. "Back and forth across the shit hole of a kingdom. Always looking over my shadow. No sleep. No chance to escape. No future."

"I know Pinkie... I know," Hard said, stroking Pinkie's shoulder as she began to sink slowly onto the counter top. He looked up and nodded and Redheart came back and wrapped her arm around Pinkie's waist, draping the other mare over her shoulder. He watched as his friend was slowly carried away and rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. "Poor kid."

"She can't hold her liquor," Scootaloo muttered.

"Nah she could drink me under the table," Hard muttered, picking up the bottle. "This is a special blend though. It's for ponies who have trouble sleeping. And boy howdy there aren't many ponies who have more trouble sleeping than Pinks."

"Why's that?" Applebloom asked, trying to ignore the painful wince she felt at the familiar jerk of Applejack idiolect. Hard looked at her and sighed, cleaning an empty glass.

"She used to work on a rock farm," Hard muttered. "Good family the Pies. Tough. Resilient." He shook his head. "They were all a little different though. Pinks had this way of dealing with stress. She'd always look on the bright-side of some horrible shit-hole mess. Then she made the mistake of helping somepony."

"Why's that a mistake?" Scootaloo said, her eyes narrowing.

"It was a mistake for her at least," Hard muttered darkly. "She helped somepony who needed it. She felt what it was like to make somepony else smile. That was it. She got her Cutie Mark. She was marked."

"Marked?" Sweetie Belle repeated.

"She got that mark in front of the wrong person. Some poor sap who was down on his luck. He saw what her mark was an' ratted her out."

"To who?" Scootaloo whispered, suddenly cold.

"The Pale Rider. Death."

Silence greeted his words, but Hard was not done. "Death has this thing. He can't stand ponies being happy. And the idea that somepony might just be born to make others happy... it just drives him straight up the wall."

"So he hunts down ponies who make others happy?" Scootaloo summed up.

"He does more than hunt them," Hard growled. "He's made a fucking sport out of it. He's got a hit list of ponies who've managed to avoid him and his Reapers. Bounty Hunters looking for an easy kill and some quick cash usually rush out to haul the poor bastards who get on his bad side back to his little hidey hole." He sighed, setting the thoroughly wiped glass on the bar and pushed his mane out of his eyes. "I think there's a league table for the best bounty hunters."

"Ponies actually compete?" Sweetie Belle whispered, appalled.

"Why do you think Pinkie's so paranoid? She's Death's Most Wanted. She knows that anypony anywhere could be after her. Could see her and try to bring her back to be ripped to shreds by The Pale Rider."

"A lot of ponies have tried to take Pinkie over the years," Redheart said as she sat down where Pinkie had been before. "They usually don't live to regret it."

"How's she doing Red?" Hard asked her. Redheart rested her hand on Hard's wrist and smiled sweetly.

"No nightmares so far," she said. "Thank goodness. I don't think I could handle a repeat of the last time she was here."

"Don't let her hear you say that Red," Hard muttered. "She'd kick herself if she found out about that."

"I know I know," Redheart sighed. She looked sideways at Sweetie Belle and smiled softly. "How's your head dear?"

Sweetie Belle smiled back. "I feel a lot better than when I woke up. Thanks."

"Nothing to it," Redheart said waving away Sweetie's thanks. "It would have felt a lot worse though if you hadn't been found when you were."

"Pretty strange finding you by the ol' tailor's," Hard admitted. "Not many people go around there since the fire."

"We thought it looked out of place," Scootaloo said. "A lot of the building's are falling apart but that place had been burnt to cinders. There a story to that?"

"There's always a story around Ponyville," Hard grunted. "Rarity was a good mare. Kind. Made clothes out of rags that still had some flair and passion to them and never asked for a penny in exchange. She made fancy stuff as well. If there was any business in Ponyville that was up and running it would've been Rarity's shop. She made a decent living... just wasn't enough I guess."

"Enough for what?" Sweetie asked, fearful.

"Her mother," Redheart sighed. "I'm not sure if you know this, but Rarity's father and younger sister were murdered several years ago. Sweetie Belle had always been a sickly filly since she was born, barely just made it out of the cradle. Her father took her out to the park for a while. They were killed that same day. A few days later Peal just sort of began to wither. It wasn't quick and it wasn't painless."

"What was wrong with her?" Applebloom asked, aware that Sweetie Belle was unable to talk.

"She'd just given up," Redheart said shaking her head. "She lost her will to live and her body just started to shut down with her. Rarity tried everything to get her up again, she sunk every penny she didn't spend on keeping herself alive to trying to kept Pearl back on her feet. The amount of times I had Rarity in here due to malnourishment..."

Hard put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. She looked at him and nodded. "Suffice to say when Pearl finally passed on we all feared Rarity would go the same way. She shut herself in her shop for days and didn't come out for anyone. When we saw her again though she looked better then she had in a while. Dour? Yes. But there was something in her. Something other than desperation. There was determination."

"Three months after Pearl died Rarity set fire to the tailors and skipped town with a bag on her back," Hard said. "No one's heard back from her since."

"Is she...? Is she...?" Sweetie Belle couldn't finish the question. Hard shook his head.

"I think Rarity's still out there. Doing her bit to help some poor fucker in need. Like Pinkie."

"Pony's skip Ponyville often?" Scootaloo asked idly.

"Not really," Redheart shrugged. "Ponyville's usually a quite town. I think there's only three who've skipped out in recent memory. Pinkie, Rarity and AJ."

Applebloom froze.

"A... AJ?" she croaked.

"Applejack. Poor girl," Hard sighed and shook his head. "If Applejack's still alive Rarity's gotta be. I think AJ broke after what happened."

"What did happen?" Scootaloo asked, Applejack and Sweetie too stunned to speak. "Something to do with the graves we passed coming here?"

"That'll be it," Hard grunted. "Sweet Apple Acres. The Riders don't really do anything big but, aside from Cloudsdale, this was the worst shit they've ever done. Folks around here call it the Sweet Apple Massacre."

"The Apple Family run orchards all over the western side of Equestria," Redheart said. "They were celebrating their family reunion and then suddenly famine was there. Poor bastards never knew what hit 'em. Applejack was the only survivor."

"Did she... did she bury them alone?" Applebloom whispered.

"We offered to help," Redheart sighed. "But she just said: 'Apples take care of their own' and told us to go away."

"Took her a week," Hard muttered. "When she was done she packed up what little hadn't been burnt and ran. We haven't-"

The door to the Bloody Nose was kicked in for the second time that day. Hard straightened up suddenly and his eyes went wide, his pupils shrinking into his head. "No... Why him?"

A pony in a long black robe stepped through. Tendrils of some smoky mist wafted from beneath the trailing hem, from the billowing sleeves and under the low hood. Skeletal white hands emerged from beneath the sleeves, clasped before him. The air in the bar was cold, the atmosphere turning icy. All the heat seemed to evaporate and the light seemed to dim. Everything seemed to focus on the new figure. Hard grasped Redheart and she looked at him, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes shining with pure terror.

"Take the foals upstairs," he hissed. "Now."

She nodded and gestured for all the foals Pinkie had brought through earlier, quickly and quietly ushering them all towards the stairs. The hooded figure watched with interest as he stealthily glided towards the bar. The other patrons shuffled back or abandoned chairs altogether.

Hard looked at Scootaloo, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle and gave them a strange look. He needn't have bothered. The three of them weren't going to say anything about Pinkie. They didn't need to ask who this was.

"Mister Liquor," said a voice. A voice as smooth and honeyed as velvet. A voice that pressed in on the ears of all that heard it.

"My lord," Hard said, his voice taking on a strained humble tone. "We haven't got a rather impressive collection my lord. If we had been informed of your arrival we would've stocked the kitchen for you-"

"I require no sustenance from your establishment Mr Liquor," the voice said, cutting Hard off abruptly. "I fear I would upset your... clientèle with my presence. I am merely here on an... enquiry."

"An... an enquiry my lord?"

"Yes. I have reason to believe that one Pinkie Pie has been through this establishment in the past few days."

"W-who?"

"Don't play games with me Mr Liquor I am aware of your establishment's reputation. Many a bounty hunter have come through here. If anyone were to know of my most wanted of the Marked ponies. Now, you shall face no repercussions if she has frequented this location in the past few days. I am merely questioning where she may or may no be heading." The figure leaned in here, revealing two glowing silver lights beneath the hood. "I know she was here, Mr Liquor. This is for certain. When is another matter."

Hard gulped. "She... she comes through from time to time," he muttered. "She... she has trouble sleeping. We give her a bed and something to drink whenever she comes here. It's usually for a night and then she's gone. She left yesterday."

"Yesterday? How interesting," the voice muttered. "And where pray-tell would she be heading?"

"I... I couldn't say for certain," Hard managed to croak. "She jumps from one side of the kingdom to the other more often than I serve drinks over this counter. She hasn't been seen in the East for from what I hear. Maybe she's gone there? Shake off a tail maybe?"

"Sound reasoning," the voice said, the figure straightening up again. "Thank you for your cooperation Mr Liquor. I hope I haven't disturbed your patrons."

The figure turned to go, but paused to look at the three young mares sat at the bar. He froze and the liquid in every glass and bottle froze with him. His glowing eyes were fixed on Sweetie Belle. He peered at her and she shied away from his sight. He turned sharply, and the voice returned, harsh, splintered, frosty like the most bitter of winter nights.

"Mr Liquor... might I enquire as to who these are?"

"They... they came into town a few days ago," Hard muttered. "They're from an orphanage that burnt down a while back. Just drifters."

"Just... drifters you say?" the voice clipped, looking back at three of them. "Interesting."

"My lord they've never been to Ponyville before," Hard whispered. "They have nothing-"

"I am no longer concerned with Pinkie Pie Mr Liquor, and this matter no longer concerns you," the voice snapped. The figure leaned into Sweetie Belle. There was something of smile in the voice's next words. "How I've longed for this day. All three of you wrapped up like a present in a bow. How my master will reward me."

"Bony!"

The figure spun and there was a bang that sounded like thunder. The figure lurched backwards toppling over the bar and slumping. The temperature returned to normal and Pinkie strode in, wiping sleep from her eyes, a metal contraception clutched in her right hand. Her hand was clutched and shaking on the handle, her finger resting on what appeared to be a tiny lever. A single long barrel as long as Pinkie's hand stretched from the end of the handle, interrupted only by a loose, revolving cylinder with six hollowed chambers. The barrel was smoking.

"Whiskey," Pinkie grunted, shoving aside the figure's slumped body. It landed on the floor with a thunk. Hard shook his head.

"For fuck's sake Pinkie why'd you go and pull a stunt like that!?"

"Self-preservation now give me a fucking whiskey!" Pinkie roared. "He was fucking you the whole time he knew I was here! He just wanted an excuse to burn the fucking place to the ground!"

Hard grunted and poured Pinkie a whiskey. She snatched the glass up with her free hand and downed it.

"Is that it then?" Hard asked. "It over?"

"Fuck no," Pinkie growled, kicking the body beside her. "This is just for show. Panto act. No fucking way he'd be that easy to bump off. He's nearby though. I got what, twenty minutes to get the fuck outta dodge?"

"You didn't get much sleep."

"No shit," Pinkie sighed rubbing her eyes. "I'm cranky today aren't I?"

"Yeah well you got reason to be," Hard shrugged. He nodded to her right hand. "Put the gun away Pink's the guys are getting edgy."

Pinkie blinked, looked at her 'gun' hand and quickly slipped it into a leather holster on her hip. "Sorry... didn't realise I still had 'er out."

Hard shook his head and turned to Sweetie Belle. "Any idea what the fuck he was talking about?"

Sweetie and the others shook her head. Hard looked back to Pinkie. "Pinks I think these need to go with you."

"And why's that?" Pinkie asked, looking at the three of them.

"Pinkie he forgot all about you the moment he saw them," Hard hissed. "He was willing to let you go just because they were here."

Pinkie blinked. "Fuck." She looked at the three of them and shook her head. "Alright grab your shit kiddos we're moving out."

"We don't have anything," Applebloom muttered.

"Good. Drink up. We got a lot of walkin' to do girls."

Chapter Four: Hit the Ground Running

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Chapter Four: Hit the Ground Running

And yet Death is the Destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it...

Pinkie Pie kicked open the door to the dusty little shack and ushered the three young mares in before her. When Sweetie Belle dashed past she slammed the door behind them, cutting off the already diminished twilight. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the light that managed to filter in through the holes and gaps in the rotting wood of the shack.

"What are we doing here?" Scootaloo asked wearily. They hadn't stopped walking since they set off from Ponyville yesterday.

"Pit stop," Pinkie grunted, reaching to the corner of the shack and pulling what Sweetie Belle could only assume was another gun, propped up there. It was much larger than the other one; while the barrel was much the same diameter as the revolver Pinkie carried against her hip, it was much longer by far, about the length from the tip of Pinkie's index finger to the point of her elbow. The barrel emerged from some kind of rest rather than a handle. There was a groove for where the palm would sit, but it was clear the butt of the gun was to rest on the wielder's shoulder. This rest was made out of some smooth and worn deep brown wood. The was a trigger and a trigger guard just on the underside of the barrel before the groove and a hammer just behind that. On the right hand side just where the barrel met rest was a cut in the metal revealing the inside of the weapon and a small mechanism which purpose the three didn't understand.

Applebloom looked around at the cramped little space. There wasn't much in here. A knobbly little stool, a bed mat rolled out in the farthest corner and a small chest with a padlock on it. That was it. There wasn't exactly space for all of them to lie down to sleep comfortably that was for certain. That was until Pinkie reached for the end of the bed mat and pulled it from the ground, taking the ground with it as she went. There was a wooden ladded just beneath the lip of the hole that had been revealed to them.

"Come on," Pinkie said, jerking her head down. Scootaloo moved first, jumping the ladder entirely and fluttering out of sight. Following her, more slowly and taking the ladder was Applebloom, then Sweetie Belle and Pinkie brought up the rear, lowing the false floor down over their heads.

"Shouldn't ya... I dunno, barricade the door?" Applebloom asked as they were sealed in almost near total darkness.

"Locked door means there's people wanting to hide or something you don't want prying eyes to see," Pinkie explained as she fumbled around in the dark. "Better to let people see an unguarded empty room than search a locked one. Damnit wasn't one of you a unicorn?!"

"Sorry!" Sweetie Belle squeaked, and the darkness was banished in a pale green light from Sweetie Belle's horn. The hole they had climbed into was marginally larger than the hut that was above them. There were about six or seven bed-mats unrolled on the ground and a handful of boxes about shin height. Hanging on the wall were a few sacks and a belt bandoleer with leather tubes holding cylindrical pointed capsules. Pinkie was knelt by a tiny lantern. She was fumbling with a box of matches and grimacing in frustration.

"Some stupid bastard left these somewhere damp," she grunted. "Gonna be almost impossible to strike a light with these. Shit!" She had just managed to catch one of the matches and set it on fire, but the sudden shock of seeing it flare into existence made her jump and sent it tumbling to the ground. "Son of a Tartarus damned mother fucking ass hole!" She looked up suddenly at Sweetie Belle. "Don't suppose you know any spells to light this bastard? Don't wanna strain you by having you light this place up for a few hours."

"Hours?" Applebloom asked. "Thought you said this was a pit stop?"

"It is," Pinkie muttered, trying to light another match. "We're here to get a nap and resupply. Fill one of those bags up will ya?" Pinkie said to Scootaloo causing her to jerk suddenly in surprise. "Check that box your sittin' on." Her attention turned back to Sweetie Belle. "Seriously though if you know any magic about this I'd be glad because we got three matches left right about now."

Sweetie Belle was about to tell her that she barely knew any unicorn magic; that she was almost a complete novice to almost everything magic related and that even lighting this tiny space was testing her rather restricted limits, when she stopped. For the first time since she'd woken up that morning she realised that there was... something different about her magic. This light wasn't anywhere near as strenuous as it usually was. It was easy. What's more the place in her head where she memorised the basic spells and incantations was now bursting at the seems with magic spells and incantations. Mystical formula, magical writings she certainly hadn't memorised before today. She had a catalogue of, what seemed to her, every magic spell that had ever been written. In that library it was easy to find a spell that could conjure a small flame.

She gulped, nodded to Pinkie and knelt down by the lantern. With the barest hint of concentration, she pointed her finger at the wick held in the tiny lantern and it sputtered into life. A tiny flame that grew brighter and stronger with every second soon filled the room with a pleasant orange glow. Sweetie let the light of her horn go out and Pinkie stood up to hang the lantern from a small hook from the ceiling. That done she grabbed the bandoleer and slung it across her torso.

Meanwhile Scootaloo was filling one of the sacks Pinkie had indicated from the box she had been resting on. Various root vegetables and bundles of wheat grain along with several dusty bottles of water.

"Is this your place?" Applebloom asked as Pinkie picked her way to the bed mat furtherest from the ladder and sat on it, leaning back against the wall and loading one of the capsules into the large gun she had picked form upstairs. Pinkie shook her head.

"Plenty of these places all over Equestria," she explained. "Smugglers holes. Ponies tend only to let good ponies know about these if they do know. They're kept in good nick to help ponies who're down on their luck, resistance ponies that sort of thing. Bad ponies use these places too sure but I doubt they know anything 'cept what they see upstairs. They're plenty of dummy huts like this that are just the room upstairs. No secret chamber just a room an' a bed."

"You use these places often?" Scootaloo asked as she tied a knot in a full sack and picked a bed mat between Pinkie and the ladder. Pinkie snorted.

"If there's less than ten people yeah. If I'm taking a group of foals to Ponyville or Appleoosa then I have to stick to less common hidey holes."

"And no one's ever found you whilst using these?" Applebloom asked, taking a spot opposite Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle sat beside her.

"I'm still here aren't I?" Pinkie grunted, pulling her hood tighter over her forehead. She nodded to one of the boxes by Sweetie Belle. "Should be some sarsaparilla in there somewhere if some drunk bastard hasn't finished it all off."

Sweetie Belle nodded, rooting through the box, trying to ignore a large lump of ice that had settled on her senses. She had Twilight's Cutie Mark and now, she was slowly starting to learn how to cast spells like Twilight. It was like she had assimilated all of Twilight's magical prowess through the transfer of the mark. It was an unnerving sensation to be certain. It was just another question to add to the ever growing pile that had begun to stack up ever since she had woken up in the scarred fields of Sweet Apple Acres.

What had happened to turn Equestria into this monstrously twisted place? What had happened to Applejack? What had happened to Rarity? Where was Twilight if Sweetie Belle had her Cutie Mark? Where were the alicorn sisters? And perhaps most importantly: How could they save Equestria?

For the fifth time since she'd blown out the lantern, Pinkie jerked awake, rifle stock pressed into her shoulder, aiming through the darkness at the ladder, her breathing tight and her heart hammering in her chest. When she realised the sound that had disturbed her was again, one of the young mares rolling over in their sleep. She gave a calm sigh and reached for where she'd left her half empty bottle of sarsaparilla. She swallowed a flat, warm mouthful and she grimaced in disgust.

She was about to try and get back to another fitful burst of sleep when something caught her hearing. Her ears flicked in suspicion and at once she was on her feet, picking her way through the back space to reach the ladder. On her way through she kicked the orange pegasus, Scootaloo, to wake her up. She came too grumbling gently. Pinkie hunkered down beside her and gripped her on the shoulder, gently shushing the pegasus to be quiet.

"Listen," she hissed. "I thought I heard something outside. Get the others awake and ready to move by the time I get back. You don't go anywhere without my say so got it?" She felt the young mare shift slightly and Pinkie rolled her eyes, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. "Tell me you didn't just nod."

There was a bashful silence to these words and Pinkie gave a short chuckle before she got to her feet, slinging the rifle over her should and stepping onto the first rung of the ladder. She looked back into the darkness, before she deftly clambered the ladder and pushed open the hatch, rolling out into the cabin above and dropping the false floor swiftly.

It had been late dusk when they had stopped walking and they were now well into the night. Pinkie judged they might have been underground for a good four hours, maybe five; a decent night's sleep for once. Pinkie stealthily made her way to the door and pulled it open a slither, peering out into the dark knight.

A fire was burning a good few yards from where the hut was. And it was getting closer. A torch for certain. A good number of them. Pinkie knew that no regular pony would walk around in the middle of the knight lit up like the damned moon. She knew there were only a handful of ponies or other creatures that would roam Equestria in the night, brazenly carrying torches. None of them were friendly. Pinkie knew she should avoid large parties like that... but she recognised the monstrous shadowing figure in the midst of their number.

A Minotaur. A huge, hulking beast of a creature, nearly twice as tall as Pinkie was and nearly three times as broad, a torso carved seemingly out of marble stone and wielding a broad, double-headed axe. The large, bull's head resting on squared, chiselled shoulders had a brass ring pierced its nose and two, large, twisted, pointed and bloodied horns emerging from just behind it's ears.

Pinkie cursed internally. No matter who this party was, they were connected somehow to Diabolus. And if they were connected to Diablous they were planning on doing something monstrous. It didn't matter where they were heading, Pinkie had to stop them.

Deciding not to go running across the road and risk being caught in the light of their torches, Pinkie dashed across the hut and leapt out of one of the empty windows, landing in a crouch in the outside air, her cloak getting caught up in a sudden wind. She dashed across the open space through the shadows, keeping her gaze on the group and their torches. There was a clump of trees near the road a few yards back from the group. Setting her sights on the trees she clambered clandestine into the branches.

She shimmied her way along one of the lower branches and brought the rifle to rest between the outer branches and dying leaves. Getting the sights aligned with her gaze, she screwed up her left eye and stuck out her tongue. She took a few quick breaths and then breathed out, emptying her lungs and pressed the stock into her shoulder and looked through the sights at the back of the Minotaur's head. Keeping her lungs empty she shifted her gaze a few millimetres and squeezed the trigger.

The gun roared and almost instantly afterwards the Minotaur stumbled, his legs buckled and his axe hit the ground as a fountain of blood burst from where his neck met the base of his skull. There was a cry of alarm from the surrounding figures as the Minotaur hit the ground with a thunderous crash; dead.

Pinkie rolled out of her perch and landed once again in a crouched position. She smirked at their confusion as they took up a guard stances around the dead Minotaur. Pinkie raced across the road and slid down the embankment, lying down again and taking a few seconds to calm herself and line up another shot. She ejected the spent casing from her first shot and fired again. One of the figures cried out and fell down, clutching his throat as blood spurted from his neck. The others cried out in shock as Pinkie wasted no time in ejecting the spent casing and taking another shot.

The group was in complete disarray now. The last three were looking terrified into the darkness. Pinkie inched closer and closer, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and drawing her revolver. They were talking amongst themselves in a blind panic and Pinkie could see what they were wearing now. Leather armour that had obviously been dipped in some black paint or tar, worn over chain mail. The cuirass they each wore was nicked in several places but she could clearly see the emblem paint in bright white paint. It looked like the mathematical symbol of infinity with the letter I emerging from the crosspoint, two horizontal lines coming out from the centre line, making it seem like a pair of back to back upside down 'F's. The alchemical symbol of Sulphur Pinkie knew and she smirked. Bounty hunters under the employ of one of the Riders no doubt, though given the sate of their armour and the equipment they carried they appeared to be very far down the chain of command. Pinkie's smile turned cruel and she lifted the revolver to shoulder height.

Her foot came down on a stray branch with a crack like a whip. She looked down in shock, lifting her foot as if she'd stepped on a snake. The three bounty hunters were looking in her general direction, aiming a rifle a revolver and a wood-cutter's axe at her, peering into the darkness. Pinkie scowled and took a step back before strafing to the left, keeping the three of them in her sight. They were looking wildly into the darkness as Pinkie began to sneak around behind them.

Taking a risk, she dashed forwards, stepping into the circle of light from their dropped torches and pulling a knife from within the folds of her coat. Sneaking up on the cloaked figure with the axe, she gripped him around the neck and jabbed the knife into her throat, blood dripping from around the blade. They gurgled quietly before Pinkie lowered the body to the ground, the other two still talking between themselves.

"I kept telling you ponies that work for the Riders aren't welcome around Ponyville," hissed the one with the rifle.

"What sort of backwards ass town is this?" snapped the other one, clearly younger than the first by several years. "They've got to recognise the symbol. They've got to know who we work for. This job's supposed to give us some damned respect!"

"Respect this," Pinkie snapped, pressing her revolved to the spot where the younger's skull met their neck and pulled the trigger. She was very pleased to see his head spin through the air like a gory firework in a fountain of blood. Pinkie was very quick to point the revolver at the other bounty hunter, striding over to them as they spun, raising the rifle to fire. Pinkie smirked. If there was thing Pinkie Pie was, she was fast. Like a bolt of pink lightning her free hand whipped out, seized the rifle by the barrel and twisted it sharply form the Bounty Hunter's grip, ejecting the magazine in a practised one hand motion and tossing the weapon aside, revolver pointed into his face the entire time.

"Look at the emblem," he growled, lifting his hands into the air. "Look. I work for the Riders. If you kill me-"

"They won't give a shit," Pinkie muttered and shot him in the face.

Interlude One: The King of Chaos

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Interlude One: The King of Chaos

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality...

Stampede. The capital city of Equestria. The city itself was not the stereotypical idea of the lair of an evil kingdom. In fact, had an architect pony from Equestria been there to see it, they would have remarked on how similar the city looked to Canterlot. But Stampede differed from Canterlot in one key aspect. It was diseased. It was sick.

Like Equestria itself an illness seemed to seep into its very foundations. The stones that built up its fortress like walls, originally pure white rock, mined from the mountain at whose base the city rested, had long since been burned black through time and entropy. Filth and stinking rivers of something foul ran through the gutters. The buildings at the city's outer-edge were crumbling, decrepit and broken. Those unfortunate slum dwellers who were forced to live in such squalor, died quickly from the illness and disease that seemed to be as much a resident of such places as the outcasts who died there.

Further into the city however, disease became less common, the buildings stood the test of time far better and even if one were to collapse the repairs were swift (swifter the closer you were to the city centre). The streets were cleaned on a near hourly basis, at the city's heart. Money that was spent in desperation at the bread line for those in the slums, was spent almost frivolously for those who practically slept at the castle's door.

Then there was the castle itself.

A towering spiral of architecture, the castle at the heart of Stampede saw all for miles around. Indeed, it was said the castle's corridors were like streets, and the chambers of those who lived there were veritable mansions. At the top of this city within a city, this mountain where the rich and the 'noble' called their home, lay the Citadel of the King. A palace upon a palace. Great spires and towers pierced the sky, ramparts and battlements shrouded the night. Earth pony guards, almost overladen in armour marched around the perimeter as Pegasus ponies flew overhead to ensure that no one attacked from the sky. All the guards flew and marched under a shimmering sheen of multicoloured darkness from the magic of several dozen unicorn spells, their caster's walking around the Citadel, attending to other duties.

Within the most private chambers of the King, Discord looked out over his kingdom in hatred.

Well, to be more accurate he looked down at those pests who so clamoured for his affections. The pathetic and crippled nobility. The greedy and the egotistical rich. The merchants and the businesses that constantly tried to sell him their wares and goods; tried to persuade him of the new must-have purchases that no nobleman or royalty could live without.

They disgusted him and he was disgusted to be ruler over them.

Well this was an unfair summation of his feelings. He was disgusted in how he had to rule over the maggots before him. It was all a political game with rules, goals and penalizations. Discord didn't like to play games. Not unless the rules were mailable and the game was rigged for his entertainment only. But no. He was forced to play this game of thrones. To live in this ridiculous castle. To wear the fancy clothes and paraded around by stupid guards in paper thin armour. He could snap their minds with a click of one taloned finger, turn them into slugs and ants with a thought. And yet he couldn't.

He growled and ground his teeth together before he stormed away from the window that looked out over Stampede.

His temper wasn't in the best of moods to begin with after looking over the city, but now he had to deal with... him.

There was a figure standing just inside Discord's library, pursuing the the title's with lazy interest. He was a tall unicorn stallion with unkempt grey fur and a wiry white mane, pulled back into a ghastly ponytail. He was dressed in a crumpled black military dress uniform with scuffed and dusty brown boots that creaked whenever he moved his feet half an inch. As he traced his fingers over the spines of different volumes, Discord noted his hands were caked in dried blood.

"Conquest," Discord said, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. He didn't succeed but then, he knew Conquest wouldn't care. He was right as Conquest turned to Discord in acceptance of his presence.

"Your Majesty," Conquest said in his bored, cracked voice.

"To what do I owe this sudden... surprise," Discord asked.

Conquest lifted a black attaché case to Discord. Rolling his eyes, Discord plucked it from Conquest' grasp and dropped it on the table of his library before thumbing in the combination and popping the case open and removing the pages from inside. He flicked through them slowly, skimming the texts. As he did his expression grew steadily more and more bored.

"More soldiers from Tartarus?" Discord sighed.

"War insists," Conquest muttered. "This 'liberation front' on the southern borders is getting, as he puts 'bothersome.'"

"Which knowing the stubborn bull means that they're halfway to the gates," Discord grunted.

"I wouldn't know," Conquest shrugged. "Do you agree to the transition of soldiers from Tartarus to Equestria?"

"Do I have a choice?" Discord growled snapping his fingers and a black fountain pen appeared in his grasp and he quickly signed the document at its final page before shoving them back into Conquest' grasp. "Is that all you wanted?"

"This will suffice for now," Conquest confirmed, snapping his fingers and sending the papers to where Discord knew not. "We thank you for your cooperation Your Majesty."

"Just get out of here and back to your boss already," Discord snarled. This proved to finally get a reaction from Conquest. His eyes narrowed and he stepped up to Discord.

"Do not forget who holds the power here Discord," Conquest whispered, his voice practically burning with power. "You may rule Equestria but only for as long as my Master deems you are useful."

Despite himself, Discord took a quick step backwards. Conquest smiled at this, a black fire burning in his eyes and in a burst of white and black sparks, he disappeared. Discord shook himself and petted the sparks from his goatee and snarled.

"We'll see about that," he hissed and spun on the spot. "Sentry!"

There was a clatter from outside and a low curse before the door opened and a tan pegasus in silver armour stumbled inside.

"Yes your majesty!" he cried.

"My apprentice! Fetch her now!" he barked.

"But, your Majesty," Flash Sentry stammered. "Her lessons aren't for another half an hour."

"Did I stutter Sentry?" Discord growled his eyes glowing red.

"N-n-no sire but-"

"NOW!" Discord thundered and Flash Sentry yelped and fled from his presence.

The door snapped shut behind him and Discord turned on his heel and stalked to the other side of his chambers, snatching up a fistful of darts from a metal tankard on a dining table and threw them steadily; one, two, three, four, five... he lost count. The darts transformed in mid air to become swords, knives, axes and rubber chickens as the hit the wall Discord had turned to; hitting the six framed portraits with a terrible 'thunk'. There subjects looked down at him in condescension.

Above the rest there was the portrait of Conquest, dressed in his full military regalia; dried blood caking the left side of his uniform. Below him to his left was a weedy, thin unicorn pony with thick, amber lensed goggles wearing a surgical mask. He looked sickly and weak, his bleached blonde mane coming away in great tufts, and his chalk white coat was dry and brittle. Pestilence.

On the other side of Pestilence there was a tough, buff looking Earth Pony with a clipped black mane and dark red fur. He was dressed like Conquest, in full military gear, but unlike Conquest his was shining; clean and pressed to a gleam, his red eyes burned with terrible power. War.

Below him there was a Pegasus pony. He was skeletal looking with a deep black coat and thick greasy black mane, slightly hiding his sunken bloodshot eyes. His lips were thin, cracked and dry, peeled back to reveal thin, black, pointed fangs. The labels of his ill fitting suit were stained with gravy, fine wine and various forms of offal and refuse that had fallen from his mouth whilst feasting. Famine.

The fifth portrait below Pestilence was of a hooded figure, turned away from the artist slightly. The black hood shielded his face, throwing him into shadows. Skeletal hands crept out from the sleeves of his black robe, the rest of his body hidden in the shadowy folds of flowing fabric. Silver light glowed from under the impenetrable darkness of his hood, bringing forth a cold and unforgiving aura. Death.

In the centre of all five of the others was a purple alicorn, with a well groomed black mane, neat magenta fur, and eyes of a blazing red power. Diaboles looked out at Discord, dressed in a crisp black suit and tie, his wings spread as if her were about to take flight, the sword Discord had thrown plunging directly into his heart.

"Another one of those days Sire?" asked a cool voice from behind him.

Discord grunted and snapped his fingers. The various weapons he had projected to the faces of his so called superiors returned to being simple darts and reappeared back in their tankard on the table. Discord turned and readjusted his lapels to face his new guest and her company.

"Sentry," Discord growled, his yellow and red eyes fixing the young Flash to the spot. "You are dismissed."

"Yes sire," gulped the pegasus stallion, almost scurrying back to the door, under the cold gaze of his king and the critical gaze of the young mare who he had escorted inside.

She was tall and skinny. A unicorn as well. Her mane was tied in a tight bun at the back of her head; petunia in colour with a stripe of fuchsia and a stripe of dark magenta side by side each other as well, just over her left eye. Her coat was a light shade of lavender, though most of it was covered up by tight fitting dress trousers, white blouse and a formal business jacket of some material that at first glance appeared black, but upon closer inspection was in fact a deep, deep red. Her eyes were a deep lavender, half hidden behind her wire rimmed spectacles, but there was a cold intelligence in those eyes. Calculating, critical and decisive. Her Cutie Mark was what appeared to be a metal star with eight points, shaped like an ancient throwing star. It was inset with a red jewel like centre piece and in-between the points of the metal star were alternating white and red stars.

"A little early today aren't we sire?" asked Twilight Sparkle.

"I'm not in the mood for games today Sparkle," Discord growled.

"Of course you're not," Twilight sighed. "Why not skip the foreplay every single time?"

"Twilight," Discord snarled.

"Okay, I get it," Twilight sighed. "You're not in the mood for sass. I get it." She paused. "So who was it today?"

"Who do you fucking think?" Discord growled.

"Conquest?" Twilight asked.

Discord grunted in affirmation.

Twilight 'hummed' in acknowledgement and examined the tankard of darts as Discord strode back to the large window that opened to the city of Stampede. She pulled five from where they rested with a delicate grasp and turned to face the portraits. Her horn glowed with a cruel purple light and she pulled a dart from her bunch. She gripped it tight before flinging it towards the portraits. This was followed by another and another until all five were in the air, each enveloped in the same purple glow. Just like before when Discord had thrown them, they transformed in mid air. However Twilight was more uniform than her master; the darts becoming obsidian daggers piercing the canvas right between the portraits' eyes.

Discord smiled slightly at the brutality that his prize pupil demonstrated. Ever since she had been a young filly he had known Twilight Sparkle would be gifted in the ways of magic. What he had not foreseen was how, growing up, she would become skilled in the ways of savagery. He had not seen such ruthless, sadistic efficiency in one pony in some time. He had taken great pleasure and moulding her into his perfect weapon. He clenched his fast in anticipation and smiled evil into his own reflection. One day soon, he was sure that Twilight Sparkle would be powerful enough to kill The Horsemen, Conquest and the King of Tartarus himself, Diabolus. And with Diabolus dead, Discord would be free. Free of this wretched act as a court jester. Free from having to rule this foolish ponies. Free to do whatever he wanted.

"How go the preparations for the Autumn Equinox?" Discord asked suddenly. Twilight snapped her fingers and a clipboard and quill jumped into her grasp from nowhere.

"The preparations are looking rather poor this year Sire," Twilight murmured despondently. "We've had reports from several small towns, Ponyville, Dodge Junction and Hollow Shades to name a few. Technical issues are apparently an issue which may causer the broadcast to shut off at any time. We've attempted to send technicians in to fix the issue but we've hit a few roadblocks."

"When you say roadblocks?" Discord said slowly.

"We mean the constituents yes," Twilight confirmed his unspoken question. "The residents seem unwilling to cooperate in the repairs and some of our tech boys seem to think sabotage was involved in the damage of the equipment in the first place."

"Are we still good to go in Manehatten and Fillydelphia?" Discord asked unperturbed.

"Yes sire. No issues so far on the bigger cities," Twilight confirmed.

"Then it doesn't matter about these smaller towns," Discord muttered blandly. He paused and glanced around him. "And the Tea Party?"

Twilight froze for a beat before continuing to scribble notes on the scroll before her. "I haven't heard from our guests in a few days sire. I don't think they're going to make it back in time for the equinox."

"And what about our uninvited guests?" Discord continued.

"We've heard plenty of them," Twilight grumbled. "They keep making a noise around the borders. The Engineer has apparently settled in Manehatten underground. The Strategist is lounging around Fillydelphia airspace but no one seems to be able to pin point her down though."

"And the Commander?"

"Unknown sire. There are a few shivers down the grapevine that he's on the Man o' War."

"Voluntarily?"

"If he's on the Man o' War sire I highly doubt he's there for kicks. If he is he has a very strange way of getting them."

Discord grunted. "I wouldn't know with him."

"Sire if you don't mind my asking why do you persist with the uninvited guests? If Project Dawn is as powerful as you claim it is then surely we don't need the Tea Party, let alone the help of the uninvited guests."

"Project Dawn is a long way from completion Twilight," Discord murmured. "Both of these allies will help us distract Diabolus from the preparations of Project Dawn. Once Dawn is ready we will obliterate Diabolus."

"And Equestria will be free," Twilight murmured wistfully. She paused. "It is a sobering thought. What will happen to us once Equestria is free from his grasp? We've been his puppets for so long... will we stand or will we collapse?"

Discord gave a derisive snort. "You've been reading those philosophy tomes again haven't you?"

Twilight kicked the ground at her feet and gave a small blush. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep. The things that you teach me... it feels like my mind is being split open sometimes and all my thoughts are leaking."

Discord tapped his arm. This was a problem he knew. Chaos magic had a habit of breaking the mind of those who tried to master it. He should know. His mind was completely splintered having been consumed by chaos magic since his conception. If Twilight continued to master Chaos magic at the rate she was there was a very real danger of her going insane. If philosophy helped keep Twilight's thoughts together he wasn't going to complain. The longer her mind was intact the more she could learn and the more she could learn the more powerful she could be. It was no shame for Discord to admit that right now, if Twilight wished, she could easily kill him. Which is why she knew nothing of how to apply her magic to the field of combat.

"Sire? Is everything okay?"

Discord jerked and turned slightly to look at Twilight. She was looking out over Stampede at his elbow, looking at the black city.

"How can anything be okay Twilight?" Discord sighed. "How can anything be okay knowing that that damned bastard is out there and potentially listening to every damned word I say?"

Twilight looked out once again. "How do we kill him?"

"The same way you kill anything else Twilight."

"Which is?"

"You hit it til it fucking dies."

Chapter Five: The Fillydelphia Smile

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Chapter Five: The Fillydelphia Smile

It was night, and the rain fell; and falling, it was rain, but, having fallen, it was blood.

Pinkie hated the fact that she could see Baltimare from where they were on the slopes of the Foal Mountain Range. Sure they were far away from the coastal city, but they were too close for her liking. She hated that city. This wasn't saying much of course. Pinkie hated a lot of big cities. It didn't matter where they were, big cities just meant bigger assholes. Whether it be Vanhoover, Tall Tale or Stampede, it was always the same story. The rich stood on a foundation of slavery, poverty and lies whilst those less fortunate drowned in a sea of disease, squalor and abuse. Baltimare was simply better at being awful than everywhere else. Baltimare was simply where the slave trade was strongest. Baltimare was where Pinkie spent most of her time whenever she was east.

She bit her lip hard, almost drawing blood, and a savage pleasure rose up in her at the idea of blowing another slaver's yard off the map. Then she shook herself and looked back at the three young mares who were clambering up the rocky slopes of the mountain after her; along a winding narrow trail that she was sure only a handful of ponies knew about. The savagery inside of her subsided and she sighed. These youngs mares, they were more important than whatever plan she could be cooking up. How she didn't quite understand yet but if Death had been ready to let her go so that he could get his fingers around their necks instead?

Her eyes narrowed at that thought and she watched them climb steadily behind her. That was something she still needed to sit down and talk to the three of them about. Whoever the hell these three were, they meant something to Death. Something that went beyond his beloved sport of hunting ponies like her. Something so important it went all the way up to Diabolus.

Just thinking the name of the King of Tartarus was enough to send a cold pulse down her spine. Pinkie had never seen Diabolus and she thanked what luck she had that she had never laid eyes on the king of cruelty who commanded the demons who swarmed the Equestrian countryside, the God of Chaos who ruled Equestria or the Five Horsemen who kept him and everyone else in line. But she knew enough. She'd heard horror stories of those who'd seen him. Who'd seen those blazing red eyes, overflowing with the fire and brimstone of Tartarus itself.

Oh yes, Pinkie thought herself fortunate indeed when compared to those ponies who found themselves face to face with Diabolus and survived. They say the ones who didn't make it were the lucky ones.

She gave Baltimare one last, hate filled look, and allowed her eyes to move slowly across the horizon towards their first stop on their little pilgrimage. Indeed it was a few miles further away than Baltimare and, much to Pinkie's personal relief, in a much more northerly direction than the city she so despised. Fillydelphia was also one of a handful of large cities where the rule of Diabolus was most challenged, the others being Los Pegasus and Fillydelphia's close neighbour Manehattan. Though Pinkie preferred Manehattan and indeed that was their final destination, Pinkie knew they needed to stop in Fillydelphia for a number of reasons.

Her eyes flicked back to three mares who were now close by once more, and looking close to collapsing. In particular she looked at their clothes. They had claimed to be orphans, at least that's what Hard thought and she might have believed that. They didn't exactly look like they'd had an easy time; covered in a thin layer of grit and sweat, manes all messed up and small scratches and bruises a recurring theme amongst the three of them. But the way they dressed seemed off putting to Pinkie. Oh sure it was dirty and cut up but there was no way any orphanage in Equestria would pay for clothes that nice looking, especially out in the wilds, where clothes that fine were pointless and bound to get you killed.

There was something these three weren't telling her. And she was going to make sure they told her everything as soon as they got to Manehattan.

But it was the three young mares clothes that were the reason that they needed to stop off in Fillydelphia. Whatever value these three might have it wouldn't do any of them any good if they got clipped with a stray shot. Even the bluntest and clumsiest arrow would tear right through those clothes and into skin, and Pinkie was nowhere near the healer Redheart was. If any of them got an infection they were pretty much fucked. A well placed bullet? Definitely gonna kill them. And chances were it probably wouldn't be an instant kill. It wouldn't be as slow as infection but it would probably be a couple of minutes of pure agony.

She wasn't gonna let any of them get hurt like that. No matter how many secrets they had, they were still young mares.

'What if they work for Death?' said a voice at the back of her mind. Pinkie bit her lip fiercely as she began moving up the path again, traveling cloak billowing around her in a sudden wind.

'What if it's all an act?' the voice persisted as Pinkie absent-mindedly checked her revolver. She frowned when she saw that the number of bullets in the chamber hadn't changed. She had three left. She hadn't been able to resupply on ammo before she left The Bloody Nose so now she just had three rounds to work with. She hoped that no one would mind if she kept the rifle from the roadside hideout.

'You can't trust them. You don't even know them. They could sell you out' the voice whispered. Pinkie snapped the chamber back into place and holstered the revolver, blood pounding in her ears.

'One for each head and down the slope. Who'd even know? You're just looking after yourself right?' the voice giggled almost. Pinkie stopped in her track,s closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. When she opened her eyes again the voice was silent. She shook herself and continued onwards as she heard the other three catching up. She didn't like acknowledging the voice and the thoughts that it brought. They weren't hers she knew, but they weren't anyone else's either. After all, complete sanity was a luxury in today's world.

Applebloom lay flat on the ground next to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. They were on a high ridge at the point where the slopes of the Foal Mountains ebbed into the flatlands that surrounded Fillydelphia. They were on a ridge just a little ways from the roadside watching as Pinkie slowly made her way towards a security checkpoint. The checkpoint was one of eight they were told, each one placed on a cardinal point of the compass rose, each one serving as entry portals to the city. The entire city was walled off from the outside, but it was clear to Applebloom even from where she lay that the wall was not very well maintained, and the checkpoints were barely manned, if they were manned at all.

"We're gonna have to tell her," Scootaloo said. Applebloom looked at her.

"Tell her what? We made a deal with some purple Alicorn and turned the world screwy? That we're the reason her life's turned out so messed up?" Applebloom looked back down at Pinkie who was gesturing up at the ridge to the three of them. "Ah dunno about you Scoots' but Ah for one wanna keep the pony who's keepin' us safe, happy."

"I don't like lying to her though," Scootaloo said, as the three of them got to their feet. "I mean... come on. It's Pinkie."

"It ain't though remember?" Applebloom said as she led the way down the ridge, hunkered down low and moving as quickly as she could. "Pinkie's pro'ly sat around watching the Eclipse with Applejack 'n' Rarity 'n' Rainbow Dash."

"She's right," Sweetie Belle piped up, almost half-heartedly. Scootaloo looked at her pleadingly but Sweetie simply grabbed her arm and looked away a little. "I mean... we don't know this Pinkie. She looks like her sounds like her and has the same... y'know? But she's not."

Scootaloo bit her lip as they approached Pinkie, who was leaning against the city wall almost bored. She looked up as they approached and pushed herself back into a standing position, stretching her arms above her head.

"We got lucky," Pinkie explained, jerking her head towards the checkpoint. "Freelancers. Just looking for extortion. And ones who know better than to rat me out."

Applebloom looked at the 'freelancers'. They were a motley crew but didn't appear very well trained. There were four of them, all stallions and only one of them seemed to be taking the post seriously, a scarlet red stallion who was watching the other three with contempt. The other three were just standing around talking amongst themselves, throwing shady looks at Pinkie Pie. Two of them, one a dirty orange and the other deep maroon, kept pointing at her and their friend, as if they were making comparisons between her coat and his. applebloom couldn't see what they were going on about. The stallion's coat was a lightish red surely.

"We okay to go on through?" Pinkie asked the gruff scarlet brute. He gave a dismissive snort and jerked his head in affirmation. Pinkie smirked and walked on through, Applebloom and the others following suit.

"That was surprisingly easy," Applebloom muttered.

"Fillydelphia ain't exactly one for enforcing the rule of Discord," Pinkie Pie replied as she began directing them down the first street they came across. "Checkpoints like that are more for keeping folks who work for the Riders away. You're really unlucky if one of them's manned by a guard who won't accept bribes."

"Where are we going?" Sweetie Belle asked, looking over her shoulder fearfully as she heard someone shout in an alleyway they passed by.

"Someone who owes me a favour," Pinkie replied. "They'll be able to get you three kitted up."

"What's that mean?" Scootaloo asked. Pinkie stopped and turned to look at them.

"It means making sure you don't get dead the first time something stronger than a fist hits ya here," Pinkie said, jabbing Scootaloo painfully in the sternum. "Why do you think I wear this?" She opened her cloak to the three of them and allowed them to see what she wore underneath. Applebloom's eyes widened a bit as she saw the leather armour. Real leather, not some facsimile material Rarity had created but tough, hard and resilient. The armour was a dark red in colour, almost the shade of dried blood. The cuirass was held in place by several buckles along the side of her abdomen, holding in place almost like a waistcoat. It had a high collar that hugged her throat so tight it almost looked constrictive, but it flexed and relaxed with every breath. The pauldrons were both segmented flowing almost naturally into the formation of the brassarts. These too seemed to merge seamlessly into the vambraces guarding Pinkie's forearms. The cuisse and greeves seemed to be a single piece of armour but this was only an illusion. Such material must surely creak with every flex of Pinkie's muscles or with the motion of every joint, and yet the armour remained whisper silent.

It was clearly light as Pinkie had given no indication that she had even been wearing it underneath that cloak of hers. And it had clearly seen it's fair share of wear and tear as well. It was pockmarked and had deep scratches and slivers of leather cut out from where blades had nicked it. There were burns too Applebloom realised, not just on the vambraces but on Pinkie's hands. There were stains too, spattered over that no amount of scrubbing or hot water could ever remove. Spatters of mud, tree sap and a coating of tar. Applebloom had a horrible notion that the armour had not been the reddish hue it was now when Pinkie had first worn it.

Buckled to her hips were two long hunting knives that Applebloom hadn't seen before, strapped to a bandoleer that Pinkie wore loose so that one side hung lower than the other. The bandoleer had small hoops fastened on so Pinkie had a place to keep her rifle bullets, as well as a place to hang a pouch that jangled with the heavy sound of minted coin. And of course there was the gun holstered low against her thigh. Pinkie was right. Next to her Applebloom suddenly felt very naked. How had none of them been picked off on their way here? How was she not a body riddled with holes? She was struck with the notion that this world was far more dangerous than she had thought it was as she looked at Pinkie's armour clad form.

Pinkie closed the cloak and turned on the spot, throwing her hood over her head and setting off again.

In stunned silence, Applebloom and the others hurries after her, almost snagging their feet on the hem of her cloak they were so close.

"So who's this guy you know?" Applebloom asked.

"Just a friend who owes me big time," Pinkie said. "He works as part of some underground movement I never really understood what. He ended up in the hands of some unsavoury types a few months back. Would've had his head if I hadn't been passing through. I just hope the little bastard's good for his word."

"Sounds like he owes you his life," Scootaloo surmised. "He should be good for his word."

"Debt isn't something that really exists in this world," Pinkie grunted. "Not when the people who owe you might be dead in the next week." She looked over her shoulder at the three of them. "I don't really like to hold favours over people I consider friends anyway, but this time calls for it."

"Right," Sweetie Belle said, nodding quickly. Pinkie snorted and looked back ahead. She stopped suddenly and held out her arms so that the others wouldn't pass her.

"Aw hell," Pinkie mumbled to herself, as laughter echoed down the alleyway towards them. She turned around quickly and whipped her head left and right before she ushered the three of them backwards and pointed to a large stack of crates stacked against one wall. "Behind that best you can and hunker down," she hissed. "And do not, seriously do not look out for anything okay? And if I tell you to run you run and you don't look back. Okay?"

The three of them nodded briskly and rushed back to the stack of crates. Pinkie watched them go before turning back to the group of ponies making their unsteady way towards her. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. Sure Fillydelphia wasn't one to enforce the rule of Discord and Diabolus, but that didn't change the fact that Equestria was sick with their plague. And plague ran on the backs of rats. Pinkie had met this type of pony gang before. Low lives who styled themselves as badass rogues who played by their own rules. Who didn't give a damn about the lives they ruined or the people they killed or which side they were on, so long as they could get drunk and engage in whatever sick depraved savagery that got them off.

Pinkie twisted her head from left to right, popping the bones in her neck with a series of satisfying clicks as she weighed her options. The alleyway wasn't what she would call cramped but it would stupid to take out her knives to a fight. There wasn't enough room to safely maneuver without jarring or spraining her wrists is she accidentally smacked a wall. Given the number of bullets she had she knew guns had to be a last resort and not a very effective one if it came down to it. There were over twice as many of them as the bullets she had chambered and swinging a rifle around in a space like this was liable to be a very bad plan.

There was only one way Pinkie was going to get this done she knew. And that was the fun way.

It wasn't the sound of the fighting that really upset Sweetie Belle as she cowered behind the crate stack with her eyes screwed up tight and her hands clapped over her ears. Oh the sounds of fists hitting bodies and legs kicked stomachs ponies bouncing off of walls were awful. Not to mention the sickening crunches and snaps that shook her to the marrow.

It was the screams.

More specifically it was how they were cut off before they reached completion, usually accompanied by an awfully loud crack. The cries of pain that were died out or worse, subsided into a sickly gurgling sound.

She flinched at the sound of shattering before a panicked voice was drowned out in a high pitched shriek of terror. The last sounds of the fight died out and footsteps approached them. Sweetie Belle uncovered her ears and let herself be helped to her feet by Applebloom and Scootaloo. Applebloom was ashen faced and Scootaloo's hands shook uncontrollably as Pinkie rounded the corner.

The smell hit them first. The tangy coppery raw smell of blood. And it was easy to see why. Her boots were covered in rapidly coagulating blood. The sleeves of her traveling cloak were stained dark red. Her knuckles were red raw and her hands were soaked and dripping. But her face held the worst of it. Though her hood had remained up for the fight some blood had spattered across her muzzle. And though she looked at the three of them with a dead eyed sense of serious authority, the spatter made it look like she was smiling.

Cutie Mark Crusader Saviors of the World

by D101 Reviews

Prologue: Deal With A Devil

Chapter One: Concequence

Chapter Two: The Bloody Nose

Chapter Three: The Pale White Rider

Chapter Four: Hit the Ground Running

Interlude One: The King of Chaos

Chapter Five: The Fillydelphia Smile