Inside a particular pinkish bakery sat a young man of tan complexion and black hair. He wore a black T-shirt with the symbol in the shape of an open wolf’s maw, bar the actual wolf head, two rows of eight pointed, pearly teeth twisted upwards in an elongated C shape as well as a snug blue jeans that hugged his lower half a bit too much for his taste. Under his breath he cursed a certain member of his family. Aunt Aloe really should have known better, he just hit eighteen and already she'd tried to pimp him out... twice.
The boy stood at around five feet in height, however, the width of his limbs would imply otherwise. His arms were taut ropes of muscle upon muscle almost the width of his head and not a single area of his body was spared. His arms, the very outline of his legs, even his neck bulged with worm-like protrusions and scars marred his features in numerous, misshapen clumps. It looked unnatural.
His face was an oval shape, his jaw was similarly rounded and gave him a soft look that didn't fit his outward agression nor the semi-permanent glare marring his features with thick stress lines and a pronounced scrunch. In summary, wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing to look at. He sighed as his sharp orbs of deep brown scanned the room.
By the gods, today was boring. He literally hadn’t done a single thing other than exercise like hell and walk. Worst of all, as of now he had yet to fight a single person...he should have expected that by now. His reputation spoke for itself. Shaitan, Vajra, cursed names spat onto him from greviously injuring anyone who crossed his path, be it brute force or defenestration. Now, no one attempted to glance at, much less cross it.
He was aware seeking violence was, in a sense, self destructive. But you simply didn't live through what he had and come out sane. Well, fully sane, he groused. He sighed in disappointment as he waited, strong, taut fingers tapping lightly on the glass table situated before him.
Sugarcube Corner. Perhaps the oddest name for a bakery, however, at the same time the most fitting since consuming any combination of confectioneries would most likely give you type two diabetes upon assimilation. Nonetheless, here he was, the strongest individual in this blasted city, sitting on a chair, waiting for a cinnamon cupcake. He hated waiting. There was nothing he could do about it though.
He wondered how his brothers were doing, one of them anyway.
He cursed under his breath.
His brothers….the state of all four was simply maddening. One used madness as a mask to hide his pain, another was a bitter berserker, destroying everything in his path regardless of what or who it was, another was a workaholic who refused to give time for his injury to heal and he, he was a strength obsessive maniac whose only goal was to protect what remained of his family.
Pitiful.
Infuriating.
He pondered on when it all went to hell, their foster mother? No, she was just the nail in the coffin. A glass coffin that contained years and years of abuse, pain and misery, some idiot then threw said container into a freezer. The glass would have broken eventually, practically just a matter of time. His thoughts glazed over THAT incident. What would have happened if they hadn’t snapped that day? Would they have gotten over it? Would they have been better off?
Would it even be worth it?
.
.
.
.
.
What was taking the baker so fucking long? Did the cashier go for a quickie or something it’s one tiny fucking cupcake and- WHO THE FUCK IS SHOUTING?!
“Hey! Get out!”
Gods he could taste the arrogance in that voice.
“Yer not welcome here, Sunset!”
Southern drawl, he idly wondered how much cowboy cock she sucked to get an accent that thick.
Fucking teenagers.
He turned his head to the side and glared at the offending girls. One sported a light blue skin color with an athletic build and rainbow colored hair, all six colors of them. The other was just as he expected for a stereotypical southern gal. Green eyes, Stetson, cowboy boots and a strong build. Nowhere near as strong as him but it was a start. A start she would likely never finish. Apparently their shouting was directed at a girl with light yellow skin and red hair with yellow streaks, looked like bacon. Bacon is tasty. Additionally, she wore an orange skirt and a black leather jacket. They all looked fucking gay.
Note leather jacket, possible concealed weapons. Note lower body, shin bruising. Six steps.
Since neither wore worker’s uniforms they most likely weren’t employees, therefore that ‘Sunset’ girl had a legal right to be here. Besides, by the looks of it, the scene seemed like a personal spat. All the same, he could not have someone disturb his day any further because he was quite literally one hand away from fucking over this entire building. Then again he induced most of his rage…. damn it all, clarity and sane thought could suck him off at 5am on Sunday, it was time to emotionally or physically abuse someone to make himself less pissed off!
Four steps.
Asura stood up from his seat and walked over to the girls’ table. Also seated on said table were a curious yellow-skinned girl with silky pink hair, beside her sat a pink-skinned girl who had poofy hot-pink hair and the last person was a white-skinned, purple haired priss whose face might as well have been a literal mask of makeup.
Three steps.
“Lady, if you shout one more time I’ll punch you so hard you won’t be able to swallow your boyfriend’s dick anymore,”
He stated his view clearly and precisely, the animosity and annoyance layered his tone and the girls stiffened as his words hit them. Then the rainbow-haired one made what may have been the worst mistake of her life. She walked right up to him and eyed him closely, tilting her head downwards to meet his eyes. She then sauntered up to him and pressed her nose against his while squinting her eyes to...appear intimidating? She opened her mouth to nag, but words never came.
Asura brought his right hand from his side and threw a slap at her, she caught it with her left but before she could speak, he hit her across the face with the other hand, the blow holding so much torque her body was flung to the side, spinning a little until she crashed and slumped against a nearby wall, a large red welt forming around her cheek and her jaw hung open and loose.
They stood before him, dazed by his display until Captain Countrygirl tried to punch him. He didn’t even bother to dodge. The punch landed on flesh with a meaty yet firm ‘Thump!’ however he was unshaken. Not a single step back was taken nor did his rigid form even tremble and though he could feel pain in his chest burn like an electric fire, he paid it no mind, it wasn’t any different than what he was used to. He then returned the favor, solitary, his arm snapped like a whip, horizontal fist colliding into soft meat under her ribs with a dull 'pham', she instantly folded to the ground while rolling in agony. He followed with a falling knee to the midsection, just for kicks.
Next, someone smashed a chair against his head. Keep in mind, he’d been hit on the cranium with metal pipes until they bent backwards, what would a chair do? He turned his head and stared at the shocked pink-haired girl, wearing a blank expression that screamed ,’Really?’ He grabbed a napkin holder and smashed the ceramic on her head.
And another one bites the dust, or the floor.
All-Pink was certainly giving the latter a good attempt.
He turned to the remaining girls.
Two steps, opposite side of table. Unbroken glass, heavy phone, heavy purse, left chair.
The priss had long since fainted and had fallen on a couch that…..was not there before…. the pink-haired, yellow skinned one cowered in a corner of the room trembling and the one they called ‘Sunset’ appeared to be on the edge between absolute fury and pissing herself. And somewhere in those deep emerald eyes, he could see some gratitude. Too bad he currently didn’t care.
“Anyone else?”
He taunted, flexing his biceps downwards as a predatory grin formed on his face.
“What about you bacon-hair? You look pretty pissed why not take a shot? Eh?”
Honestly he couldn’t explain what he was doing. It was instinct at this point and they told him that after beating up the ringleaders you had to intimidate the rest to either stop the fight, or impair their judgment with fear.
Sunset didn’t respond, she just stood there, staring. First at the limp bodies of her ‘friends’, then at the cowering and fainted girl behind her, then at the younger boy infront of her who had just wiped the floor with Canterlot High’s Top athlete, shrugged off the well-built farmer girl’s punch like it was nothing, Tartarus, he didn’t even flinch when hit in the head with a chair. He made it look like nothing at all.
She reflected on the past few days. It started out so well. Slumber parties, pictures, just having a good time. But one little drop of ink in the water and it all went awry. Her ‘friends’ left her when she needed them most, opting for the easier option of accusing her, ignoring the obvious frame-job the account was. She recalled abuse inflicted on her by the student body.
At first it was just exclusion from activities and scorn, but before long simple acts of abuse against her person became commonplace and she regularly found her belongings either stolen, vandalized or both. When she walked to class she would receive a little ‘nudge’ that would send her sprawling face-first into the tiled floor. On lunch the sports team had even made a game out of who could bash her lunch tray with a soccer ball. Extra points if they hit her face. And then there was much, much more.
Though the obvious one is what hurt her the most. Her friends, those who she trusted with her very being those who called her ‘family’. They abandoned her without a second thought, their belief so blind that they refused to see reason despite how much she begged, despite how much she pleaded, despite the fact that she was practically groveling at their feet, just begging them to just believe her.
And they refused.
Sunset sniffled. Her little bout of self-reflection(honesty be told it looked like she was staring into space for a prolonged period of time) gave Asura all the time he needed to calm the fuck down, and so he did. With deep breaths and a hand over his face his rage shriveled and reason took over. He looked around him, the bodies beneath him, the people surrounding him. No, he did not regret putting that rainbow haired freak in her place, neither the cowboy girl, neither the Pink maniac. Bacon-hair though? He distinctively remembered many a harmful word thrown her way since he had come in the sweet shop. Besides that she was showing signs of mania and possible abuse, if the bags under her eyes, pained movements, bruising and empty eyes were any indication.
She reminded him of his own family. The way they were at first. Broken little things that knew evil as it rooted into their bodies, the cold of night burning away at their resolve as they were. He remembered one time, they begged, they asked, they wished for…. a _are_t….they wished and…….
……..Why not? He asked himself as a rather odd idea popped into his head. It wouldn’t be any trouble to his brothers, that was certain and this individual genuinely appeared to need a helping hand. And despite his violent nature and slightly obsessive tendencies, he would offer it. If she accepted would be up to her.
Asura sighed and worked his lips into a satisfied grin as he spoke to Sunset, picking up his cupcake from a flabbergasted cashier as he left.
“My family’s celebrating Christmas this year at that house down the road, 9am till dusk. Go straight, turn left, go straight then turn right at the third house. It’s completely black, you can’t miss it,”
The doorbell chimed and Sunset was left to collect her thoughts. Now quite confused she exited the bakery and took the path back to her apartment. She replayed the child’s odd offer in her head and tiredly sighed. At least she had somewhere to go on Christmas.
//Side-Section//
“Hello, 911 what is your emergency?”
“Ma’m there’s a boy in my bakery assaulting three girls!”
“Calm down sir would you please describe the suspect, I’ll be sending a dispatch to you now,”
“Well, he’s wearing a black shirt with a set of…teeth on it and a blue jeans, he looks extremely muscular, um, has a tan complexion, black hair and I think brown eyes?”
“…..” “Sir, could you please state the name of the suspect?”
*wooden smash* “Oh God my chair!” “Yes! Yes, according to his order it’s……Asura Fenrir.“
Sunset’s alarm rang in her ears. She mumbled incoherently as her pink pajama-clad body rolled off the old, thin mattress she called a bed with a ‘Thump!’.
She almost preferred the ground.
Sunset grumbled and rose to her feet, aided by her arms, vision slowly clearing as she wiped her eyes clean of crust and stumbled into her kitchen. The old, wooden floor groaning like an old maid with every step and it's chill made her shiver in discomfort.
Sunset sighed and took out her phone. It was Christmas morning, 7am to be exact and, of course, the accursed Mystable account posted again once again! Something about Gilda and dorks. Her hand rested on the sink handle and turned. Yep, water came back. Might as well get ready.
Sunset had spent most of her time since she got back debating with herself whether she should or should not accept the strange boy’s offer. On one hand there was the chance that she was just going to get attacked for no apparent reason. On the other hand it might have been a genuine offer. And somewhere in-between was the glaring question of ‘why in Tartarus did a complete stranger invite me to their house?’. The fact that the same individual had committed assault on her former ‘friends’ with ease only added to Sunset’s confusion as she had mulled over each of these thoughts the night prior. After an hour or so of thought she concluded that she had nothing better to do and going to a stranger’s house for Christmas, while not a particularly good idea, was the only alternative to spending the Winter alone. In her apartment. While the heater wasn’t working.
She didn’t want that.
Susnet sighed as she exited the apartment an hour later. The chilly air crept along her pores as her shoes crunched the snow, she hoped that whoever she met would not turn her away. Honestly she wouldn’t blame them if they did. After all, what sane adult take some random girl into their home to celebrate a holiday with THEIR family. Why was she even doing this in the first place?
“Go left, no straight then left and…..turn right at the….one….two…three…..and……”
Sunset stared at the modes two story house before her. As the boy had said it was all black and frankly she doubted she could see it at night. Luckily daylight was upon her. The house had no lawn and was built to fit snugly between the two three story houses beside it. It had a large, black door that stretched to about seven feet by a hundred centimeters and was quite plain in appearance. No designs either. The entire front of the house was devoid of decoration or structure and was completely flat save for the single rectangular-frame window on the second floor and the odd door handle shaped like a silver wolf’s head with a closed maw and two pitch-back eyes staring at her. It even had a bright gold nose with the word ‘Press’ written on it.
Not ominous at all.
Sunset cautiously strode forward, eyeing the unflattering structure as she pressed the nose...
But no one came.
She was about to press the button a second time when the door handle twisted open of its own accord to reveal a young boy.
This one was a tad taller than her and a fair bit less muscular than the stranger she met the day prior, fitting the idea of a ‘slightly-toned youth’ than a muscle-monster and his hazelnut eyes complimented his russet hair well. He wore a white, sleeve-length sweater with a monochrome, convex-shaped eye printed on the chest, said sweater was complimented by a black pants that, like the sweater, hugged his lithe form like a well-fitted glove. He exuded an aura of boredom, of Nihilism in its purest form.
The boy’s face was significantly more sculpted than the other’s, a firm yet curved jawline and short face giving him a youthful appearance as he focused his placid gaze onto Sunset.
“And you are?”
His voice was gravelly, deep and odd as if he were speaking from equal parts his throat and a bucket of gravel, grinding and choking the sounds produced. Surprisingly, it didn’t unnerve her.
“Sunset Sh-”
She wasn’t allowed to continue as the boy whipped out a small six-shooter pistol from nowhere and shot her in the neck. Surprisingly, she felt no pain. She raised her hand to touch the area in question and felt a foreign object protruding from the wound.
A dart.
Oh.
She face planted on the snow with a crunchy 'Plop!' as the boy advanced upon her form.
//Several hours later//
Sunset slowly eased her eyes open as she raised a palm to her neck. Nothing. She smiled. The whole thing was a dream. Now to go to Sugarcube corner and-
“Achilles what the fuck were you thinking?!!”
“I wasn’t,”
“What’s she gonna’ think now eh? First time she meets ya and ya shoot ‘er with a goddamn tranquilizer!”
”I bought her a gift,”
“...”
“See, logic,”
SMACK
Sunset blinked. She pinched her arm. Nope, definitely not dreaming.. She raised her head from the soft cushion that she had made a groove in and sat up from her position on what appeared to be a large galaxy-themed couch. Out of nowhere a small cup of water materialized to her side as the owner of the offending arm said in a slightly loud voice.
“She’s awake, numb-skulls!”
Not long after two familiar boys entered the room and sat down on the ground to the fireplace. There was a fireplace.
Sunset took the water and gulped it down, enjoying the feeling of cool liquid flowing down her parched throat and then surveyed her surroundings. Currently she sat on a medium-sized couch meant for three people in a small room. To her extreme right was a bright fireplace that seemed to liven-up the black walls surrounding it and above her sat an odd, old-timey brass chandelier whose brilliant, intricate appearance contrasted it’s modest surroundings greatly. On the upper right and left sides of the room were two door-frames, one leading to a kitchen and the other to a room shrouded in darkness. The floors were made of varnished light-brown wood and opposite to her was a couch similar to the one she sat on. It housed two new boys.
One of them appeared to be a little more than five feet tall, likely bordering on six, with black hair and reddish-brown eyes. He wore a festive green top with a Christmas tree printed on it and a blue jeans that were one size smaller than he should rightfully have. His face was long, giving him a more mature look than the rest, a small, confident smirk tugged at his lips
Next to him was another boy, this one was significantly shorter, even more than her, and had dark-brown, almost black eyes and his on face was a cheerful smile. Inviting, warm, unnerving. He wore a baggy sleeve-length T-shirt with the words ‘I LOVE CHRISTMAS!’ written in bold red and green print and a red, three quarter shorts.
Both youths could be no older than her, maybe seventeen for the lanky one, twelve or thirteen from the one in shorts. Almost all, however, were surprisingly bulky, almost disturbingly so. Though not as much as the one who invited her, they were all fairly fit, except the smallest. He was... reedy, wearing clothes his size yet he couldn't possibly fill. Strangely, they all shared the similar tanned complexion with only slight differences in tone.
Sunset took a good five minutes to observe everything and then leveled her eyes onto the one she was most familiar with. He sat cross-legged on the ground and stared back at her, wearing the same set of clothes he wore on their first encounter. He seemed much shorter than she remembered, it was cute in a way. Like a puppy. A docile, dangerous puppy. Sunset cleared her throat.
“So…….”
The boy huffed as his eyes met hers, a mix of pity, sympathy and embarrassment danced in his liquid pools of scorched earth. They gave her all she needed to know about events prior.
“Yeah, sorry about that ma’m, He’s a bit skittish when it come to things like these,”
Sunset wanted to say something. She really did. One part of her wanted to scream and rant about the morality of randomly shooting someone with a tranquilizer. Another part wanted to know why the young man had a tranquilizer in the first place, and the last part wanted to run as far away as 'humanly' possible.. She chose the middle-ground.
“Well I’m not injured so all’s forgiven,”
The boys each exchanged short, skeptical glances upon her casual dismissal of unprovoked assault but remained silent as she continued. Sunset sighed, slowly blinking as she collected herself and suggested in an open, casual tone of voice,
“Let’s start over. My name is Sunset Shimmer. What’s yours?"
The boy nodded and the line that was his mouth curved upwards. He spoke, his voice not as deep as the other one but it had a ‘powerful’ feel in itself.
“I am Asura Fenrir, the one who ‘retrieved’ you is Achilles, the grinning idiot in baggy clothes is Orthros and the other one with the Christmas tree t-shirt is Vandal, ”
Sunset allowed herself a smile as she absorbed the new information.
“We’re brothers,”
Asura finished, a proud look on his face as he waited for Sunset’s response. She did in turn.
“Very interesting names, where are your parents? I’d like to know if I could help with any.........thing?”
The moment she uttered the word ‘parents’ the mood shifted from light and rose in intensity till it mimicked a knife’s edge. Each brother held a different look of stern fury on their face as Sunset gulped. Then, it was gone. Each of their expressions relaxed and the atmosphere returned to what it was as if the change never occurred. Asura’s response was absolute,
“We’d like to avoid that particular topic, if you will,”
The last three words were not a question. His tone was flat, his eyes sharp as he gazed at her. If she looked hard enough she could see grief behind the burning exterior. Just because human eyes were smaller didn’t mean they showed any less emotion than a pony’s. And over time she had learnt to spot them all the same.
“Sorry if I brought up a touchy topic, in any case, why am I here?”
Her question extorted a chuckle and a mild-mannered response from a grinning Orthros,
“For Christmas, Lady! What else?”
Then Vandal intercepted, his tone flat as the floor they rested on.
“Want a shish kebab?”
The boy stretched his right hand towards her. In his fist held five warm shrimp shish kebabs quite literally packed with impaled foodstuff. Sunset stared at the offending item and cautiously reached for one as the others did the same. She took a cautious bite of a roasted bell pepper and grinned in satisfaction.
“Why does this taste so good?!”
Vandal smirked.
“Family recipe,”
They all then took to stuffing their faces with the snack as Vandal placed a bowl of shish kebabs in the center of the room. There were seconds then thirds and even fourths but eventually they stopped and simply sat where they were, enjoying the odd warmth the fireplace gave.
Sunset was no different. While her introductions to the boys were quite offputting, to say the least, she relished in the opportunity to eat with other people who didn’t stare at her with malice, hate or ill-intent. Sure, they were close to strangers but they invited her into their household and even offered her something to eat.
Sunset snorted.
Was it really that bad?
When did she get to the point where she was willing to accept kindness from anywhere no matter how odd it seemed?
When did she get so desperate she was willing to take the chance of being assaulted so she could spent time with someone who didn’t despise her. . . . . . . Wh-when did inflicting harm onto her become something so trivial that everyday she just shrugged it off...…. when did she become so…..pitiful?
A single tear rolled down her left cheek. She had no more tears to cry. Beyond that she was out of them. The blooming, pulsing pain in her chest persisted as it wrought chaos and constricted her lungs. The pain was so real. It hurt so mu-
“Ms. Shimmer!”
A booming voice shook her back to the world of the living as a collection of furious brown eyes pierced her own glassy cyan ones. She stiffened as those fury-filled orbs focused on her and in unison they all asked the question she knew they would, their unified voice betraying some inane worry they held despite their profane manner of speech.
“It is not enough to be nice; you have to be good. We are attracted by nice people; but only on the assumption that their niceness is a sign of goodness.” ― Roger Scruton
Shadow
And on she went.
She spoke of many things in the hours past. She spoke of great feats accomplished earlier in her life, minus the unicorns and ‘magic’, she spoke of the mentor she came to call mother, she spoke of her subsequent betrayal and how she was ‘unjustly’ punished for it.
She sounded quite guilty at that part. She babbled on and on about her flaws and mistakes, barely making progress while her audience stiffened at the mention of another ‘parent’. A pain they knew and wished more than anything to never feel again.
Nonetheless,
She continued.
As regret layered her voice she spoke of her ‘Reign of Terror’ that lasted three years under which she held an entire school under an iron fist, her tools, the human mind and strategic use of the flaws humans so abundantly possessed.
They liked this. Hell, they loved this. She was powerful. She was GREAT! But then they realized two things. One, the story was nowhere near complete and two, the imperative word, ‘was’. The person infront of them was no grand manipulator, she was no mild-mannered spy, this person was a broken young woman brought to tears over what they perceived to be trivial affairs. Nothing was important for them, as such all else than family was called trivial.
This girl held no power, she was weak.
They continued to listen.
She spoke of a new force called ‘magic’, a point at which Achiles’ hand twitched in the general direction of his revolver, the real one, nonetheless he listened. She spoke of power, she spoke of greed, she spoke of demons and of air-headed heroes. She spoke of six, then spoke of five. She spoke of….friendship
Poison, will-devouring poison, and if for no other reason to remind themselves each mimed the same thought, you'd think then psychic, 'A friend can take you places but they cannot bring you back.'
Sunset paused. Her eyes scanned the expressions of the four boys before her. They were blank and like the void stared back at her with an intensity that bordered her own. Tendrils of blood-black anxiety slithered over her body like ice sliding down her spine, she had to look away. She breathed out a sigh, as if to calm herself, once more glued her eyes to the fine black carpet and continued
She spoke of things of beings of magic and hate, she spoke of beings of hypnotism and song, she spoke of world-ending abilities and she spoke of triumphant heroes who combated such a threat with naught but hope, music? and herself. She mentioned ‘Friendship’ occasionally but they glossed over such trivial details. A friend was a mockery of what you call an ally. One who aids you in your endeavors regardless of affiliation. Friends were a peaceful relationship that balanced on an easily cut string, when pulled it became taut and sharp, but when met with an edge it splits as easily as a balloon pops.
A pathetic mockery of an alliance.
Still, they listened
Then came the fun part.
Her tone fell flat, her eyes gazed as she recounted recent events. Initially life has been well. Trust in the ‘reformed’ girl was at an all-time high, her -friends- surrounded her like a soft blanket. And then one night till the next the blanket grew long, flesh-piercing spines.
Anon-a-Miss.
The sheer ‘originality’ of the name was comical and the repercussions of its actions invoked sick amusement and stilted smiles. A person, running around revealing secrets and framing this girl in an obvious attempt to ostracize her from her peers, and it worked.
Sunset’s school life consisted of schoolwork, abuse by the student body, cry herself to sleep, repeat. This wasn’t entertaining anymore, it was simply, pitiful. There was no fight in her, no spark of hope in her eye and frankly they couldn’t see how someone could take joy in her sadness.
For what is the elation of ruination, if not a response to defiance?
Sunset told this story as tears streamed down her eyes, leaning forwards as she narrated in great detail all the ways in which she was hurt by not only her school but by those she came to know as friends. By those she came to Trust as family. Where was that family now? Was it all a ruse? No, it was probably some sentiment said in a spur of the moment. And being the stupid little girl she was, she had taken it to mean something. She chuckled. So much for family.
Fun fact, the employer of her job was related to a victim of Anon-a-miss and naturally she was blamed and fired. Let’s not even talk about her already bad reputation and, considering most businesses in this part of the city were more or less run by someone related in some way to Canterlot High,her employment options were slim to none.
She had one more month in her apartment, from there, who knew…..
“-and that was when you showed up and assaulted them,”
She finished her dialogue as she scanned the children to gauge their reactions. Hopefully they wouldn’t cast her out like the others.
Where did that come from?
Sunset shook her head clear of such thoughts and breathed in deeply. She was not in the best state of mind, no doubt about that, her very decision to come here told quite a bit of it and by Celestia was she rethinking it. At least they were hospitable.
Asura’s brow furrowed as he stared at the ground, arms visibly tensing as he gritted his teeth tensely. Orthros was similar, except he stared right at her, big, beady, brown eyes and a blank expression as a fire seemed to collect itself within him. Achiles showed no reaction and was currently eating a shish kabob while scratching his back with his left hand, he’d been doing that since she started oddly enough, and Vandal wore an ear-splitting grin on his face as he eyed her.
There was something inherently wrong about that stare.
Never mind.
Asura reached an arm towards her and lightly patted her on the back, invoking a slight flinch on her part, the poor girl had not expected the kind gesture and recently-made muscle memory replayed an image of a hand slapping her on the back so hard she body slammed into a locker. Her breathing increased to short gasps and her eyes stung, eyes dilating to pinpricks body trembled and tensed in anticipation.
“I suggest you turn in for the night, go to the kitchen and down the hall to the left, third door on the right,”
Asura’s voice was calm, composed yet stern and managed to calm her down just a bit, though not nearly enough to quell her growing anxiety. No. It was going to take time before that let up.
Sunset nodded and stood up, catching a shish kabob thrown at her by Vanir as she left the room, eyes of differentiating shades of brown locking onto her as she left and their weight on her shoulders only lessening once she had made it down the hall to the room in question and shut the door behind her.
//Living Room//
Asura and Orthros relaxed as the fire faded form their eyes as soon as it came, replaced with a blank expression. Achiles retracted the hand from behind his back, only to retrieve a notepad documenting her entire story since she started with occasion notes on her behavior regarding certain individuals, situations and actions. Vandal was unchanged, his grin of amusement present as he leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his knees, head on his palms as he asked in an oddly sultry tone, eyes sparking like a child in a candy-store,
“So, what do we do now?”
Asura smirked and replied in a casual tone,
“Nothing, we don’t gain anything from this endeavor, I say we scrap it,”
Achiles responded in a flat tone
“Indeed, and in any case these are teenagers, normal, untrained ones too plus-”
“-if she was once a Queen she’ll become one again when push comes to shove,”
Vandal finished sagely.
Orthros pouted as he put on his signature Cheshire grin, that ‘unnatural’ feeling that he brought with it present in the air as he spoke.
“Ya’ll blind, how can you not see this!”
The three brothers stared at the mutt like he had grown another head. Orthros continued, the childish joy in his voice masking the true weight of his words to an extent,
“What are we now?”
All three responded almost immutably,
“Bored,”
Orthros gripped the air infront of him, curling his hand into a fist like a dictator would as he spoke,
“Yes, bored! Yet with this we can have so much fun!”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
Achiles asked, eyes scanning his notes searching for inconsistencies as Orthros responded, the high-pitched, youthful voice giving one of the most eerie impressions,
“First of all, what happens when you reveal an emotionally unstable idiot’s secret? They get MA-AD, and what happens when they get too angry? They resort to violence! And who knows with a little ‘Push; they could start outright lynching!”
Orthros chuckled darkly,
“Hell! From what she’s told us it’s Already almost at the boiling point! A bit more time and it’ll all go to Tartarus, if anything we’ll just speed up the process! And yes, on the point of any opponent being an untrained teenager, YES! They’re weak! BUT! What happens when you beat a small lynch mob? What happens when you show a li-tle weakness that makes you LOOK Vulnerable? The mobs grow and with numbers like that I’m sure we’ll be entertained for quite some time! All we need to do is protect her and their blind hate’ll guide them straight to us!”
The three brothers nodded, their demeanor almost business-like until they truly grasped what he meant.
Asura grinned at the opportunity and Vandal, like the true sadist he was, began to salivate at the thought of beating the absolute crap out of a teacher.
What? The guy’s weird.
Achiles on the other hand just smirked and continued on point,
“And I’m guessing I’ll have some fun tracking the elusive Anon-a-miss persona. Hmph.”
He took out his phone and flipped open a MyStable page using a browser,
“For this idiot’s crap to actually still function he’s either some high-profile revenge junkie, multiple people or just plain stupid. Hell, even I can tell this is a frame job and all I do is fuck up FaceHoof’s code.”
He flicked a button on the phone screen and multiple red dots popped up on a region-map.
“They say to know a man’s stature, know his enemies, the more dangerous his enemies the higher his stature. We’re dismissing this as a teenage spat but we’re all quite acquainted with the consequences of underestimating a task. I’ll do some recon on the school, the students and see what I can find. Worse comes to worse we can always call a Ragn..a…r…o..c..k… Let’s hope Sunset’s stature isn’t too high, won’t want to call Uncle Ross again now would we.”
Achiles smiled warmly at the glowing screen before making some notes based on the map’s points,
“Bah! She’s a bullied teenager who had a superiority complex! Hell, she’s currently suffering from PTSD and, according to that nice little camera in her room, she found the first aid kit and is tying bandages across her midsectio…….”
Vandal’s sentence died in his mouth as he gazed at her body. Purple splotches imprinted down her chest and midsection, her back was practically a sea of red and blue and he spotted one particularly nasty slash on the lower-left side of her chest. He grinned,
”That’s a fockin’ knife wound….”
He remained silent for a few minutes before he burst out laughing like a madman, the sheer enjoyment in his cackling was a bit worrying considering the fact that he was entertained by an attempt at knifing someone.
“Oh God! HAHAHAHAH Maybe! HAHAHAH! Maybe this’ll be fun after all! Knives Man! Knives! HAHAHAHA THOSE CHEEKY MTHERFUCKERS! Let’s hope they can at least last a minute! HAHAHA!”
Asura simply grinned as he observed the many marks of abuse on her lithe body. ‘Jackpot,’ he thought as his mind ran over the possibilities. They were being handed free entertainment on a silver platter and as an added bonus they got to be ‘good’ and help someone in the process. Their father would be-
.
.
To Asura, this was a win-win for both parties. Regardless of intention, she looked like she could use all the help she could get. He could only hope the task would be interesting.
Orthros sighed in satisfaction, simply glad he managed to convince his brothers to help the poor lady. By no means was he a good person, nope, definitely not, deeefinately not. Still, he took no joy in seeing the innocent suffer. Okay, maybe he did but only in despair and only to those buffoons who actually ticked him off. Her situation was just plain depressing and to put it simply he could not stand it! It was a mockery of what true despair looked like and when the child first saw her all he wanted to do was make her smile.
His teeth chattered and canines ground against one another in agitation.
Those heathens who couldn’t see past their own asses, basted mongrels who could never understand nor discern truth from lie despite the answer placed before them. Maybe that was how Sunset had become queen, by manipulating pawns who contained no more than three brain cells and even less chromosomes.
Devour them all.
//Sunset’s POV//
When she first entered the room she honestly expected a Spartan living space with a tiny rock-like bed and basic sleeping quarters. She was pleasantly surprised to find a queen-sized bed that was surprisingly soft. The bed was large and covered in multiple blankets, the one on the top being a large scarlet-red fluffy blanket pulled tautly on its edges, accompanied by two angelic pillows that seemed to form a sink in the shape of her head as she laid down on it.
The room seemed rustic yet oddly well-maintained. Almost as if the room had been a nexus of activity at some point far here before her and the fact that there were multitudes of landscape paintings and an exquisite, clean vase on a small, fully stocked table next to the bed only reinforced the oddity of the situation.
Sunset smiled and embraced the warmth the comfort the bed brought and mentally compared it to the times she would fall asleep in Princess Celestia’s wings. Not quite as comfortable but close enough. She winced a bit as she occasionally shifted her body. The aches and pains she just bandaged making themselves known through her movement.
She huffed and once more gauged her surroundings. To the far right was the room’s entrance, somehow almost blending with the dark-blue walls of the room. To the left was a small bathroom equipped with shaving equipment, brand new toothbrushes, towels and a first aid kit she had liberally used when her bruises started aching.
Sunset yawned and returned her gaze to the ceiling and took to pondering her situation. She went to a stranger’s house, ate their food ad was currently sleeping in a room while in the same house a four hyper-muscular younger children who for all she knew had no guardian.
She was too tired for this.
She forced herself to relax as fatigue began to gnaw at her consciousness and after quite a bit of struggling she submitted to the urge to sleep. Hoping to Celestia her new ‘friendships’ wouldn’t end up as her former ones. If you could even call them that.
“You can believe in whatsoever you like, but the truth remains the truth, no matter how sweet the lie may taste.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson
What is Truth?
“So let me get this straight,”
Vandal furrowed his brow as he gingerly stirred the pot in front of him, turning his attention to Sunset with squinted eyes,
“You WANT to wash the dishes? And have already swept the house, mopped the bathroom, somehow sorted Asura’s teddy bear collection, helped Achiles solve Advanced Additional Mathematical formulas for Nuclear Physics and played tag with Orthros?”
Sunset smiled sheepishly and leaned against the kitchen’s door frame as she spoke in a somewhat airy tone of voice,
“Weeeeell yeah.”
Vandal stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. One eyebrow was arched up, the next arched down with both eyes crossing in opposite directions. He shook his head and turned off the stove as he sighed in acceptance. First there was the deal with this girl’s story. Mainly the holes surrounding the ‘Fall formal’ and ‘Siren’ events. Now she had helped them more than either of their parents would in a week, bar the fact that most of her antics were inconsequential, it was the effort that counted. And the sheer eagerness of this girl to undergo underhanded tasks unnerved the young sociopath more than he ever thought possible.
“Just…..just go to the living room, play fetch with Orthros or something, here, use this,”
He opens a kitchen drawer and hands her a hot-pink Glock 17. Dirt cheap but reliable in close quarters, or so she'd heard.
“Just throw it at him and hope it doesn’t fire, I’m fine here,”
Sunset stared at the physical embodiment of death that sat in her palm. She looked up at Vandal, who was back to stirring the curry and overall unchanged despite the fact that he just handed her a gun. Where did they even get a gun?! They’re kids for crying out loud! For Celestia’s sake she was at least five years older than all of them and she didn’t even own a Taser! Tranquilizer pistols, guns, brass knuckles, what next, a bucking RPG?!
Sunset breathed in deeply. Using those simple stress relieving exercises taught to her by her -Mo- Princess Celestia! She calmly placed the handgun onto the kitchen table and silently walked out of the room.
Vandal blinked twice and smirked as he resumed cooking.
“Well at least some things never change,”
//A few hours later//
Given a few hours all four brothers and Sunset had assembled in the living room in the same formation as the night prior. Sunset occupying a whole couch, Vandal and Orthros on the identical couch opposite to her and Asura and Achiles seated cross-legged on the carpet. Each individual had a reasonably large bowl of curry in their hands and while the bothers eagerly dug in Sunset simply stared at her bowl in mild curiosity.
First of all, the bowl was as wide as her hand three times over and about as deep as the length of her middle finger. The amber, chunky liquid reaching at least three quarters the volume of the bowl. She could see strips of meat and vegetables float around in the murky substance and shivered as it’s warm, tantalizingly spicy scent snaked its way into her nose as the bowl steamed with fresh heat.
She gulped.
Sunset had always wondered what meat tasted like, even when she was a pony, but back then the idea of eating another living creature had seemed so foreign that she never even bothered. When she arrived here, however, there was that option but she had still abstained from eating meat. Whether it be to salvage what she could of her lost pony mannerisms or a simple lack of necessity she couldn’t tell.
She grasped the shiny, grayed spoon with her night index finger and thumb and lightly scooped up some liquid with a small chunk of meat and stared at it.
Duck, he said it was. Duck curry. She rested the spoon in her mouth and allowed the mixture to flow onto her tongue and then removed the spoon from her mouth with wet ‘Pop!’.
It was Amazing.
The meat was so soft and practically melted as she bit into it but it was the liquid that really sold it. Spicy, warm and at the same time both sweet and- was that chili? It had that special zest in it and was neither too hot nor cold, just right and as the murky liquid flowed down her throat she could feel it’s warmth all the way to he stomach. She licked her lips. That was delicious and she could go on and on to describe just how good it’s taste was but she instead preferred to dive into the bowl like a hyena eyeing a dying lion.
When she was finished there was quite literally not a drop left in the bowl, she had drank, eaten and licked the whole thing and as she rested the bowl down on the empty seat next to her she noticed the brothers shooting concerned looks her way. She gave a thumbs up.
“That was delicious,”
Vandal smirked and stood up, gathering the soup bowls and cutlery as he strode back into the kitchen. He curtly responded in kind.
“Your welcome,”
The remaining three brothers smiled at the exchange and Sunset sighed in contentment. She hadn’t had a meal that good since the last time she visited the Apples, quality and quantity included. Her stomach was full to maximum capacity and felt as if it would empty itself if she took another bite. ‘These kids may be strange, but at least they can cook,’ she thought to herself in mild amusement.
Vandal returned to his place next to Orthros and nudged the younger child with his elbow. Orthros ‘humph’ed and cleared his throat to get her attention.
Sunset focused her gaze onto the boy her body laid sprawled on the couch as if it were a mattress, the position easing her overfilled stomach just a bit. She nodded her head shakily, indicating to him she was paying attention.
“Well, Miss Sunset, after hearin' yer…….. we’ve decided t'…help you,”
Orthros rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he opened his mouth to continue, however before he could utter a single word she interjected and, almost venomously, spat,
“Why?”
Sunset did not know much about the odd quartet before her but what she did know frightened her almost as much as Celestia did. All she could see was violence, more violence and some very good cooking skills.
Weakness
Orthros visibly flinched under her harsh tone and averted his eyes to the flow, each of his brothers appearing to writhe in mild discomfort.
Half-truth
“Honestly, we were once in a situation similar to yers,”
Orthros responded, his cheery voice gaining a slight downcast as he narrated, his string and needle grazing the nasty gashes that were Sunset’s sense of trust. All he had to do was stitch them up a little.
'Keep it short and sweet, KISS,' could practically feel a baritone voice spitting into his ears,'Tell the truth, just not the whole truth’.
He willed it to Shut Up
He understood.
Too much similarities make a person suspicious, too little and they simply don’t understand your motivations, keep the lie partially submerged in truth, it confuses lie-detectors and ensures some credibility.
He continued.
“At one point we were like you, we were ostracized, faced open violence, or bodies bathed in red hot rage, egotism and scarlet hues as wave after wave of wounds settled themselves onto ah'r skin,”
Orthros gulped and tilted his head upwards, staring into Sunset’s cyan eyes with his own deep brown wells of emptiness,
“Miss Sunset, we pushed through it and became strong, but by no means did 'e come out unscathed and….the pain we endured to get that strength…..I wouldn’t wish it onto anyone.”
Cue
Orthros bit his lip and blinked, clearing the moisture from his eyes as he continued, his voice somber, his brothers faces empty as they sat in silence, listening, waiting, watching. Orthros concluded with a simple statement, his voice strained as he uttered the words,
Truth
“I just want to help.”
Seconds ticked on as Sunset stared at the younger boy, her hawk-like gaze neither intense nor relaxed as she studied him for any signs of stray emotion, of even the slightest fluctuation. She found none and exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and scrunched her face as a war waged in her mind.
On one hand if she accepted they would either help her or just like the rest they would simply abandon her when she needed them most. They would accuse her of something without any conclusive evidence and any good actions she would have committed prior would mean jack. They would sever all ties with her And in their case, they might even ki-
STOP!
She mentally roared at herself. There it was again. Those thoughts, her little manic episodes as she came to refer to them as. She’d been having more of them recently. These four oddly-toned and ‘mildly-violent’ individuals were definitely not helping. Okay maybe Orthros was a bit. Seriously, playing tag with him was fun. It’s like with Pinkie Pie except he actually follows the Laws of Physics and has oddly soft tickle points.
Weird.
Asura wasn't that bad, in fact he was quite a help while she cleaned the house and had saved her from many a nasty fall while cleaning the rafters. She had noticed that he froze for a split second whenever they passed the room she was staying in but she ignored it. It wasn't her place to pry, much less when she relied on their generosity for space.
Achiles, now he, he was a workaholic and reminded her of herself back in her days as Celestia's student. Diligent, smart and a good thinker, possibly a living calculator and after she had given him the exact value of pi he showed her the most heartwarming smile she had ever seen. Almost Twilight-y.
Vandal was missing for the entire day.
She shook her head and collected herself once more. Of course, there was always the chance of any relationship she made breaking , it almost seemed to be an eventuality with her. Regardless, these kids, as misguided as they seem, genuinely acted as if they wanted to help her. Or at least showed interest in her plight and, despite first impressions, they were a decent bunch. Bar Vandal, he looked like a psychopath.
Sunset took a deep breath and responded with two words, sitting up and tilting her head downwards as tears slowly began to leak from her eyes,
“Thank you,”
Before the first shimmering teardrop could hit the sofa she found herself surrounded by warmth. She eased open her eyes to find four glossy pairs of differently shaded brown ones staring up at her in a manner younger children would do. Orthros arms were wrapped around her midsection in a full circle, Vandal had somehow managed sneak behind her and both Achiles and Asura simply Embraced her from the sides, all four joining in a group hug that for the most part caged her movement to a null. In their defense they were quite a bit younger and some at most a foot shorter than she was, though, one thing she couldn’t figure out was why their muscles weren’t digging into her sides. Nonetheless she eased herself into the soft, shoulder-high embrace and sobbed as they simply tightened on her. Not enough to cause discomfort, but just enough to allow her to know that they acknowledged her pain and wanted to provide some comfort.
“Sometimes a night of over-eating leaves you hungry for something you can't name. An emptiness haunted me. An emptiness I didn't have a name for until I met her. Now, I' m starving.” ― Kim Briggs
Wrong
In little under an hour, Sunset had calmed enough to rest. Still, her breaths occasionally stuttered and it was quite obvious she was having a hard time keeping things together if the everpresent sniffling was any indicator. Nonetheless, after they loosened the shackle-like hug they had encased her in, she had attempted to walk to her room, all the while insisting that she would be fine and she needed no assistance.
The new imprint of her face on the carpet would say otherwise.
After a little ‘nudge’ from Orthros, Achiles took it upon himself to ensure she got to her room without falling flat on her ass. Or face. Or arm. Or back. Or Pectila Oblong-
Sunset made it to her bed, her body visibly shaking as her unsteady hands attempted to right herself under the covers. Achiles could only chuckle. She reminded him of Orthros when they were younger, always needing help to do anything remotely related to grip strength. Look at him now though, a freaking monster of a man, boy.
They were still so young, given all they had experienced, it became easy to forget.
Achiles all but shoved Sunset under the covers and forcefully pulled the sheets over her body, right up to her chin. He even went out of his way to tighten the sheets grip on the mattress, ensuring that if she had to get out, she would face quite the tensile strength in resistance. For a final touch, he placed a glass of water on the bedside and gently tapped her on the forehead three times. Playful petting complete. Now initiate mental program ‘Why the fuck am I doing this?’.exe.
After ensuring Sunset was as comfortable as she could be in this situation, he headed back to the living room, finding a visibly shaken and pacing Vandal, grinning Orthros who simply curled up on the couch and blank-faced Asura seated on the ground. He took a seat Back on the floor next to Asura and waited. Particular thoughts swirled in his mind. None of them good.
“Is anyone going to ask the obvious question here?”
Vandal sneered, agitation layering his words as his eyes roamed over the silent forms of his brothers.
“No? Well here it is, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?”
Vandal shouted, expelling all the air his lungs could hold. He took a breath to gather his slipping composure. Hell, he’d already lost so much of it with that earlier ‘outburst’ from Sunset. Seriously, what was with her?!!
“The hell are we?! Some kind of emotional support group! The fuck did we just do that? The fuck did I just do that!? We’re supposed to use her situation to help us, and I understand getting closer to the victim to understand the crime but what in the Nine Hells was that! I felt that! And I know you fuckers did to! We don’t feel anything an-and!”
Vandal tensed and curled his hands into tight fists and his brothers could only look at him in silence. He was right. They never grew close to someone this quickly, they never cared about someone this quickly. Sure, they could give someone a hug, comfort them and like the Devil they’d whisper sweet, soothing words. They’d make them feel so safe that one would have a problem identifying if the person was ever sad to begin with. They'd make that person hang on their every word.
That,
Was Manipulation at its finest.
That was Orthros.
This, this was no manipulation. There was genuine emotion in that little action. Firstly, they moved too fast for it. If they simply wanted to manipulate someone, they’d move slower, visibly, they WOULDN’T go full tilt and they certainly wouldn’t leave it at simple ‘comfort’. Something was up and none of them wanted to confront it.
“The hell is wrong with that woman! One day and she’s cleaned more of the house than we do in a year! And then there’s the fact that she,”
Vandal went on to use his fingers as he counted Sunset’s various abnormalities,
“Was alright and actually enjoyed playing a childish game with our resident madman,”
His gaze found a sheepish Orthros who as currently intently focused on the ceiling.
“Somehow managed to sort out one of your ‘collections’,”
He turned to Asura, who simply smirked in turn.
“And on top of being a complete emotional wreck who is far too trusting for her own good, can actually keep up with Achiles in terms of Academics?!”
Achiles grinned as he typed away on his phone, paying mild attention to Vandal’s rant.
“What kind of half-brained Jackass would turn their back on this?! She’s literally the ideal material for an ally, family member or even a goddamn co-worker Christ! How is this girl hated?! Hell! She's so damned apathetic towards her own self worth she'd be the perfect puppet!”
“Who has such a great deficiency of testicular apparatus that they feel the need to humiliate someone who might as well be their plaything?”
Vandal concluded, his eyes slanted and brows furrowed, his body tensed as if waiting for something to pounce out at him. This wasn’t right. Sunset’s personality and actions were perfect and worst of all they lined up. Every single one could be justified and judging by Achiles lack of interruption he could infer that most, if not all she had done so far was genuine.
That scared him.
It scared all of them.
They saw signs of it already. Acting without thinking, impulse taking over reason, clouded judgment. They were growing attached to her. They didn’t like that. The last time they got attached to someone, that very same person broke them. That devil carved the path they now tread on now, that foolish creature ignited the flame of life with enough gasoline to burn a brick house down.
They glanced down the hall in the general direction of Sunset’s room. No. She was not in their hearts yet. One had to earn that, for any object given freely has no value, it is only when one works for something that they can truly appreciate the value of that which they were given.
Besides, they had quite a while until school started back. Theirs would resume in June, Sunset’s reopened, in January. More than enough time to entertain themselves with the notion of adding a member to their family. Much more time to toy around with the guilty. Nevertheless the end would be the same. Their enemies would lie in their hands, faces contorted in agony, and in one swift motion. Break them in half.
For justice is blind and bitter but retribution, oh so sweet.
Asura, Vandal and Orthros were forced out of their thoughts by a loud ‘thump’ followed by a ‘crack’ sound.
Achiles stood next to the wall, his fist making contact with the concrete and allowing a nearly unnoticeable crack to form under the pressure.
“Canterlot High, She,”
On the last words his voice turned to ice, his eyes shining with unrestrained rage as his mouth curled upwards, partially serrated teeth flashing as he resisted the urge to prepare his riot gear and sprint towards the blasted bitch’s house and with his voice a low growl, tone sharp as a needle piercing flesh but simultaneously as rough as a shotgun slug ripping through skin,
His head felt hot. Airy even. An ache tugged at his eyelids as cracks spread across his phone screen.
Breathe in.
Hold
Breathe out.
Hold
Again
Again
Again
Again
...
...
...
Better.
A dull throb danced across his knuckles.
Punching the wall was a terrible idea. His hands were nowhere near as conditioned or experienced as his kin. He'd be lucky to walk off with a two-week bruise.
Unlikely. But such was hope.
"Yo dipshit, was poppin?"
Ah yes. His kin.
He turned to the ever-ecstatic Orthros, to all of them. His hand absently dragged against the walls and he gently rest his spiderweb-screened phone onto the fireplace.
A grimace flashed across his face, contemplating how to break the news.
He made sure he faced all of them, he made sure all could see him mouth one despised name.
Their bodies turned rigid.
Like statues of frozen, trembling flesh.
Eyes wide open, some glossy, some red. One pair, dull as if staring at something not quite there.
...
...
...
Yes.
This was the correct choice. This was God's will. Sunset Shimmer was his way of giving them closure.
This was his way of guiding them to their fate.
To enact some sick justice for once.
Who was he to deny retribution?
_____________________________________________
Orthros hated very few people. He couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't stop himself from helping a begging man. He couldn't stop the ache in his chest and pity at those lesser than him.
She was infront of him now, every bit as imposing as the day she'd ripped his arm from its socket, that sick smile on her face when she smashed his head into the ground.
Her fingers hooked on his chin, one dug into his nose, his senses invaded by the lavender shampoo she'd rub in his head during every bath.
The clawed grip darting roughly across his shoulders so tight his arms grew stiff and numb-
She'd die.
She'd hurt and die.
He'd wring her neck and twist her arm till she screamed.
Boil her like a fish in water.
Run the cunt over with that motorcycle she treasured so much. Burn it infront of her.
-his teeth sank into her neck like it were cookie-dough, gnashing against bone. Her taste violated his tongue, he choked on sour blood and his neck wrenched and tore her sticky flesh sideways-
____________________________________________
Achiles watched on as his brothers knocked each other back to the present. Vandal left the room to get the bat. As usual, Orthros was taking much longer. He couldn't blame him.
He'd almost been made lame, not to mention the state they'd found him in. Each bite and bruise took weeks to heal. Physically, that is.
Their youngest suffered more than they did, it was inexcusable.
Plans needed to be made, scouting, transport, documentation and... 'magic'.
Everything surrounding the school and its events reeked. After his initial findings in the morning, he could no longer treat 'magic' as a shroom-fueled fantasy Sunset partook in with her friends.
He knew the green girl and her produce quite intimately. He knew Sunset's 'Fluttershy' was close with the Tree Hugs.
Now he knew magic was real.
...
...
...
Welp.
A sharp exhale made his chest drop like a sack of bricks.
Nothing to it, but to do it.
He turned on his heel and strode past Sunset's room, into their basement. Hands locked above his tailbone.
He had work to do if any of this was to go well.
For the sake of his family, there was very little he wouldn't do.
The world owed them a great debt, it was time to pay up.
_____________________________________________
A familiar blue fist left her crumpled onto the ground, hand clutching her stomach and the other wrapped around her head.
"What's wrong Anon-A-Miss? Finally feel like confessing, yet?"
Her visión swam and head ached like she'd rubbed pepper into her eyes and ears. Her hands clawed for purchase and slowly inched away from the pairs of boots encircling her.
"I don't even want a confession at this point! Just! Stop! Have you seen the state of our school!?"
A rubbery sneaker jabbed into her lower back.
"Huh?!"
She gasped and her back arched, long enough for a hand to encircle her locks and painfully yank her head backwards to face an irate yellow face.
A dart landed onto her captor's neck. A thin, skeleton-like visage appeared infront her, steading her body when Applejack finally let go.
The young man pocketed his revolver. He smiled and gently stroked her hair while she rested her head into his shoulder, closing her eyes, tired of it all.
A piercing pain like a palm sized staple to flesh stabbed through her shin and tore a scream from her lips. Her fingers wrung into her saviour's sleeves as a sound like a small bomb deafened her. It hurt it hu r t I t h u r -
Sunset jolted awake.
She scrambled and flailed, dislodging the sheets she'd been wrapped in with panic comparable to a mad-man fighting spirits. Her eyes snapped open, wildly darting every which way until rough hands seized her wrists, iris sparked with orange embers settled onto pits of burning brown. Her breaths froze, then slowly resumed in recognition. Boyish optimism shone in his eyes, they always had, a flame absent in his kin. His presence gave her as much comfort as a puppy. She scoffed at the irony.
Her chest heaved just a fraction less than they had but a second past, vauge awareness returning after a long fight with mania. She let out a shuddering breath and relaxed on the mattress, her rigid back sinking into the fluff. She winced at how clammy she felt. Sticky and icky, filthy.
She couldn't expect her hosts to clean up after her, that would be too much. Soon as she got up, off to laundry duty!
Her neck craned down, slick skin sending shivers down her spine. A bath first though. Definitely.
Orthros cradled one of her hands, having let the other go during the death knells of her panic attack. His characteristic smile was faded today. Barely present as he mindlessly fiddled with her knuckles, gaze rapidly switching from the her fingers to somewhere far, far ahead.
His eyes snapped to hers. Brown orbs burning with something that almost ripped another shiver from her spine. He seemed to notice, his neck tensed before his expression relaxed, happier now, visibly bashful. Upset that he'd scared her. She forced her body to relax. He was safe. Genuine, like a puppy. An increasingly anxious puppy that currently didn't know where to look.
Just a kid, a wierd kid sure, but, everyone was a little wierd. Right?
"Sooooooo......" she trailed off, eye twitching at the awkwardness of it all.
'Smooth. Extravantly smooth, darling. No wonder you didn't have any friends', she could hear Rarity, even the sneer she'd grown used to, 'except us, of course.'
Regardless, she continued, voice relatively even,
"W-what's eatin' ya, kiddo?"
He stilled. His fidgeting froze and she swore she could see worms wriggling beneath his skin. Muscles rippling on an immobile skeleton, eyes dull in a way that deeply unnerved her. The most energetic, jovial of them all turned to a living corpse. Her brow scrunched, his skin was pale, almost invisible patches dotting his flesh like chalk dust.
He was a statue at her bedside, not even breathing, empty eyes meeting hers. His gaze tried to communicate a message she couldn't understand, it felt like that. As if he wanted to cry but had no tears. As if he wanted to speak but had no words. As if he wanted to bite but had no teeth.
Odd comparisons and similes rushed into her mind from nowhere she could identify. The longer she stared the more pronounced they became. She could see it, see something on him. A feeling, an expression, she didn't understand...
A gentle smile broke across thin lips. His voice was light, slow, limp. After a slow blink, his eyes dulled even further, growing cold and cutting as the midwinter chill she'd come here to escape.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Sunset."
She'd never heard him properly pronounce all his O's and G's in one sentance. Nor use her name without the 'Miss'.
Shivers in her spine almost sent her sprawling across the carpet. Luckily, the boy helped her stand, trembling under the weight of her thin frame, poor kid. She caught the look on his face, steely determination. It worried her; honestly, she had very few reasons to NOT be worried these days.
She tapped his shoulder, letting Orthros know she would be alright on her own. He'd looked at her like a man who’d seen the ghost of his dead sister. He nodded; sadly, she thought, and slunk out the room. After a few minutes, she took her time hobbling to the bath.
“This is going to suck so much,”
She liked hot water quite a bit, however, her stab wounds decidedly did not.
“AHhhrhrhshshshshshshshhhhhhhhhhhhh”
A long winded sigh of hurt slipped out from between her teeth while gargle-choking on water . She knew it was pure luck that she was slashed than stabbed, but. She didn’t feel very lucky. The water split on her back it felt like the stream ground the tender flesh down to her bones, sending throbbing, itchy agony from her hip to her neck. The pain branched off like the roots of a tree and burrowed into her sides, restraining herself from scratching them was torture.
Her hands lightly coated her naked form in soap. Legs were easier, only a little scrape here and there, could afford a thick lather. She dusted her trunk, unwilling to risk it, then moved onto her arms.
“Urk!“
She winced- Stupid.
Her bicep was blooming sunflower yellow, a bruise melding well into her skin. She’d forgotten that one.
She noticed an odd bump on her crown and took extra care not to aggravate it with the coconut shampoo she’d ‘burrowed’ since yesterday.
Another long spray of hot water almost sent her into a seizure. She hunched forwards, letting water crash over the middle of her curved spine. Her chin trembled, her shoulders heaved with the rolling , pulsing pain like dancing matches burning across her back. She stayed there for a few minutes.
Her body, a small, bleeding mountain of shuddering breaths and darting eyes peeled wide.
When her fingers started to prune, panic set in. She was using too much water, God oh no no, no nononnon- they’d kick her out-no that was too tame. Maybe a knife would do, how about loading that gun with real bullets? Crushing her skull- knife-shot-painpainpain-
“SSSSSSSSHHHHAAAAAA!”
She silenced her thoughts with a large exhale.
Her chest rose and fall, her shoulders swayed unsteadily. In her panic, she’d risen and stood on her knees. She leaned against the porcelain wall, hands balled into tight fists till her nails dug scarlet crescents and her knuckles turned white as the moon.
Faust.
She was such a mess.
She helped herself to their first aid kit. Clumsily clawing damp strands of hair off her delicate back, before spraying it with alcohol. Trembling hands struggled to wrap her body tight, she almost hoped the tightness would choke her dead. Alas, she was too weak for that.
The dream haunted her.
No matter how much she cried, pleaded and screamed no one would help her. She was dead to her friends, a ghost wailing into the wind for all the good it did. That was her world.
She’d tried. Really, really tried to tell them
No.
She’d told them.
She’d offered everything, her phone, her passwords, everything.
She begged.
She blabbed on and on like a lost puppy jumping at their heels for weeks and weeks.
Begging for them to take her word for it, just once.
All the good that did.
“Ar-ugh!”
Her back lanced.
All the good that did.
This, this was a new lesson, likely.
A brand new friendship lesson!
Her eyes burned.
What a lesson….
Words were useless.
“So, how are we doing this?”
She stood an arms length from Achilles, who’d taken to lazing languidly over the couch. His neck hung limply over the plush armchair and bobbed once in response.
“Mm…beg your pardon?”
He ground out between chunks of the gravel he called cereal. Imagine frosted flakes, but made of walnuts and no sugar The heathen even poured milk first!
“Clothes”
“…”
“Hello?”
“…”
She waved her palm in front his eyes,
“Anyone ther-”
His wrist closed around hers like a snapping snake. His eyes darted to her, then sideways at a steadily approaching giddy gait.
“Noted…” he paused, her eyes cast downward at the approaching person, beholding two feet that might as well have been tap-dancing, ”Orthros,”
She suspected they were telepathic… but hoped not. His hand on hers had sent a fearful jolt down her spine and sent her mind in a brief spiral to worse times. To the slashes coating her spine. She’d told them so much already, but she didn’t want to even think about that.
Orthros seemed to know exactly when to arrive, and exactly what to do. He nodded once, like he’d been here from the beginning, from the moment his brother uttered his first name. Just one word.
Likely telepathic.
What story could one single word really tell?
Distracted.
He was distracted, unfortunate, not ideal.
...Unfortunate? No, Foolish.
Every variable was supposed to be taken care of. Every possible aspect accounted for. Except… clothes?
No, he’d never made a screw up in years. Sure, his track record may have only been about.. three of them, but still, he hadn’t messed up. Three years of flawless planning. Three years of effortless execution.
Three years, of unfaltering will.
But he, an oracle among mortals for how much he knew, failed to account for something so… trivial?
Impossible.
His head was foggy. Dusted with tiredness thin as morning mist.
Almost, imperceptible.
Dull, his mind was dull.
And neither coffee, energy drinks nor medication could sharpen him.
He’d been trying since the day prior.
Something was… off.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Something was snapping in front of his eyes.
His arm closed around it, hand twisting upwards. He shook back to the present and halted in time to cancel the wrist lock. Barely.
Their eyes caught.
He surmised the context of her prior words. He estimated the likelihood of her subsequent actions. He concluded the current state of affairs. He responded, first to her,
“Noted-“
Then turned his gaze to his brother, and ordered,
“-Orthros,”
Their youngest nodded, having seen his text.
Good.
Small hairs on her face shivered as she lead the march, Orthros was…doing things.
Things that made her question her life decisions.
Their last conversation played in her mind, persisting on loop like the foul aftertaste of artificial apple juice. All while the plod of two pairs of feet crunched behind her.
“Uh, Orthros?” she trailed off, eyes slumped sideways in confusion and chin tucked downwards to meet his eyes.
Both of which were at the level of her shins.
“Yezzzzzz?” the four-footed monstrosity lain at her feet replied.
“Why are you wearing that?”
“Why wouldn’t ah be wearin’ this?”
“Just… seems like an odd choice…to visit someone’s place…”
“We walkin’ though,”
“Well…yes…”
“Like, twelve-twenty blocks innit?”
“…Okay that’s strangely unspecific but about yes-“
“-exercise,”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in… not that?”
“Exercise is discomfo’t,”
“Aren’t you worried about the poli-”
“-this Gucci,”
The tiny interlocked ‘G’s on his back taunted her.
“…”
“…”
Their gazes met in silence.
“…”
“…”
Through the clear eye-lens, his eyes blinked slowly.
“Welp, get to steppin’ son,”
Orthros, dressed in a bear costume, then proceeded to lizard-walk.
Her abode looked like the cleanest half-demolished apartment one could find. If two of her laid flat they’d reach her ‘bed’, in two steps she’d reach her ‘kitchen’ and no bathroom could be found. The community one was not a good idea, better the Sunbucks four blocks down.
Hence, her palpable shock at his genuine approval of her living situation. What kind of a life does one have to live that… this… was ‘better’?
“Ha!”
He giggled like a child who’d stolen someone’s candy, holding his shaking stomach as he stumbled around in search of clothes.
“Everybody’s git ta start from somewhere, Sunny. We started from a cozy lil’ house, then the street, then down the bifta, then the gavvers, then…”
Eyes. Chestnut eyes with biting deep blue, reaching out like circles of teeth in his iris. He stared past her, farther and farther away at something she knew him to hate and love. How, though? How did she know that…
His voice petered out to an amused wheeze. He walked forward, grabbing a clothes pile and shoving them it the black trash-bag. The passive rumble of a car sounded a floor or two below, odd, no tenants of this place were well-off enough to have cars. Nor was there space to park one.
She snapped out of her thoughts and realized, she ignored him, dumbly lost in her own mind. She grimaced.
“Eventful…life?”
She asked, hesitantly. Something was off about them, if it wasn’t obvious enough from the get-go. But, right now, they were all she had. Right now, they were the only people who’d not hurt her. Right now, they were infinitely better company than her… h-her……
…
….
…
’friends’?
She toted one of the bags, a smaller one, to her chagrin and tossed it in the van. Using all her mental fortitude to refrain from questioning the identity of their balaclava-clad driver. She yawned,
She witnessed Orthros struggle his way through a particularly heavy bag, spinning it round and round unsteadily strung across his shoulders until he let the bag shoot off his back and into the trunk.
“Strong kiddo, aint’cha” she remarked, a wry smile curling half her lip.
He giggled, rolling his shoulders and… dislocating… them?
“I wish. Everywan’s str’nger t’an lil’ole me, ”
For a split second, his hair had a moss-green tint to it. Must be the lighting.
“Now den, let’s go ‘ome, ay? Miss Shimmer,”
Home.
It was almost funny, she thought.
That a place colored like an emo’s wet dream could beam such warmth into her heart.
“Let’s,”
Her ward rolled into the back seat, she followed him, sinking into the soft seats. Orthros passed her something and she absent-mindedly took it, the smell sent a ripple across her stomach.
“Gyro, shrimp,”
He said simply, daintily nibbling his own roll.
She took a cautious bite, wary due to how sparingly Orthros was eating. He took bites like a mouse. Unbearably slow, if he kept that up, he’d be biting for the next four hours. The shrimp was pleasant, tender and popped in her mouth. Flavor gushed from it’s soft insides and slathered her tongue in salt and sweet. Her eyes brightened and hairs stood on end. There was but one thought left in her mind.
‘Good food, Eat,’
It was all gone in four heartbeats.
“Christ girl, ye eat like a horse,”
Certain things, had been left out of her story. Like the fact that she was an adult alien horse transformed into a teenage girl. Or the fact that she didn’t have a green card. Or that she had the same legal rights as the average rock.
She could feel the blood leaving her face.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha,”
She was locked into his unmasked gaze. Orthros eyes brightened at the centers. The world turned dark and darker around her, fading into a hazy blur where she could only see blindingly blue eyes digging into her soul. She felt empty. Her head was an empty pool, clear and still. Tranquil, endless shiny surface of water unbroken by even a single ripple Her eyes turned inwards, her mind was the skin of a drum stretched around an intruding finger.
Black, black sky and white, silver water far as the eyes could see.
She could see.
She could turn, but no matter how she turned, where she looked, all was black space. All was white, silver water.
She would huff, but she couldn’t. Then she huffed.
Her brow knit, then, it did.
An idea formed.
Her not-body willed itself a hundred miles away, it shot sideways.
She didn’t feel like she’d moved.
She willed again, but to the west.
She moved up, but the scene did not change.
So it was the same, so samey and similar that nothing seemed to change.
She shot past endless black sky containing nothing to mark her position. She passed endless silver sea, with no ripples, waves or otherwise to tell from where she’d left.
Why was she here?
Where was here?
Her breaths came fast, hard, fast and short.
Her eyes, her sight darted everywhere.
Up.
East.
West.
South.
She looked
Down.
Two dull, blue lights spread continents apart stared up at her from beneath the endless ocean.
She beheld the submerged shadow of a beast whose crown and maw stretched down to each horizon.
She fell.
She fell, the windshield racing past her eyes as gravity took over.
“You a’right?” he was under her before her head cracked against the steel door.
What…
He pressed her head into his chest, arms wrapped around her shoulder and head, a palm on her forehead.
“Yer sweatin’ sometin’ fierce too, let’s head home yeah?”
She grunted, head sluggish and groggy like she’d knocked back three bottles with the girls.
“Stop at th’ café tew, might beh sugar, kin never know,”
Sunset sat silently, sinking into the cozy ambiance only a coffee shop could provide.
She had been suddenly repulsed by touch, and he’d accepted it.
Since waking she had shakily enforced an arm’s length between herself and anyone else. ‘Enforced’ might have been a stretch. More like hyperventilate harder at anyone close to her little bubble. Determination had flashed across Orthros’ eyes, hidden behind the bear head’s silicone circles. He was indulgent. So… undeservingly indulgent.
It would’ve been easier to stop the car, exit and then reenter. Easier, but not as fast.
That just wasn’t good enough for this kid.
He needed her better now, damn the consequences, so he'd flung his petite self as far from her as possible. She heard a grunt of hurt when his side crashed against the dashboard. He was like paper today. Pale, wispy and blank. She worried for him. He was so much smaller than his brothers. Smaller than even her.
She prayed to Faust he hadn’t bruised himself somehow.
He’d allowed her space throughout their drive to this place Always ensuring she was as calm as possible. Jumping to the front seat, despite how uncomfortable it must’ve been in that costume. One unfortunate vacation she played mascot for McArby’s, earning less than minimum wage. The suit was humid as a desert and movement was scarce, ‘cept the ability to shuffle around like a disabled crab. Orthros was wearing a brand named costume, he must’ve been dying in there. She didn’t know a single expensive brand built for comfort.
Her finger twitched around her cold, slushy comfort. Red and pink circled each other like the petals of a rose. Scarlet slashes caressed the edges and pink mush bloomed underneath. She traced transparent teardrops across the thin plastic with the tip of her finger, it’s beauty drew her in.
Orthros laid limp as a hibernating bear, two tables down.
So thoughtful.
Her head nodded down, but she caught herself before the straw impaled her forehead. One small sip leant some much needed support to her nerves. She felt like glass.
The side of her head gently knocked into the table. She relaxed, idly watching the colors of her drink swirl .
“HEY SHE-DEMON!”
The angry shout echoed in the empty shop. A headache pinched the corners of her brain as boots stomped towards her table. No way, this was a Sunbuck, there was no way anyone’d make a scene here.
She hoped. Hope proven pointless, as the voice angrily mocked her,.
“Look at you, living it up all bourgeoi,”
From behind her drink, she spied a tanned hand and tall girl, flanked by two others. Mildly white with frizzy blue hair, whitish-blue complexion and blueish hair. Octavia, Vinyl and, probably, High Winds.
Octavia threw an ugly sneer in her direction. Anon-A-Miss had exposed her three months ago. Her relationship with Vinyl.
There were pictures in that expose. Pictures… and videos.
Octavia came from a very conservative family, very prim and proper. ‘Upper Crust’, was an apt description. Sunset even heard that she had a fiancé, a man. She didn’t come to school for days and when she did? It looked like she had gotten in a fight with a bear. And lost.
“You think that’s fair? That some of us need suffer, them scrape by while you’re just fine,”
Just the thought of that post churned Sunset’s stomach.
“Do you even feel a single sliver of guilt-!”
At her last part-time job, Sunset worked with ‘Tavi. Heard, she’d been all but disowned. Though ‘just’ being kicked-out, likely, wasn’t much better. Sunset knew that pain, of being rejected by the most important people in your life. The pillars of your childhood, repulsed by your very existence.
She sunk even deeper into the table, cheek smushed against the smooth, lacquered wood.
“Fucking Say Something!”
Sunset knew that pain all too well. Such a shame, the cellist didn’t deserve any of it. Sunset had liked Octavia, her presence was… pleasant, she had such pretty fingers. It was almost magical to see them dance.
“Got nothing, Anon-A-Miss? No quips?”
Octavia snarled. She was indignant. Behind the straw, Sunset spied Octavia’s rose-flushed chin. Irritated, enraged, humiliated. The cellist was swallowed by tyrannical emotion.
She glanced at the entourage, praying they’d temper their friend. Vinyl was jamming, unperturbed by her surroundings. High Winds seemed nervous, but determined. She held a righteous stare, broken by intermittent sideways lip-twists of discomfort.
Octavia’s eyes caught on Sunset’s half-melted drink.
“You don’t deserve these things,” Octavia grimaced, black lips turned down and brow knit tight,
“-probably extorted the money from someone-”
Octavia’s hand wound up to swipe her drink, it was pawed away before it could leave her side.
Orthros had scurried to the commotion, though Sunset couldn’t tell when. His furry hand was still extended out and he clung to the chair-rest, perched like a human cockroach.
Bear-cockroach?
…
Bearoach?
“Pray tell, what are you supposed to be?” Octavia snarled.
The bear did not respond, simply made a ‘shoo’-ing motion.
“I’m asking you a question, freak,”
He still did not speak, and it only infuriated his elder, Octavia’s shoulders shook. The one eye Sunset spied behind her straw was stretched wide and twitching.
Worry pooled in her stomach like lead. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt. There was a possibility that he could fight, but he was so much more fragile-looking than his brothers. He seemed weaker than even her, and she was injured!
The bear extended both hands out, he used the left to press his other hand’s claws down, gifting them a middle-finger.
Octavia’s eyes flew open, indignation scarred her features. Rage took over as a vein pulsed on her forehead.
“Why you b-”
Her hand lifted back and drove down, slowly. Sunset saw it slow. So, very, very slow. Her head still rest on the table, hidden behind her drink, one hand to the plastic and other arm curled around the table’s outer rim, shielding herself and her drink from the assailant.
Orthros tried to move, but slipped and fell in front of Octavia, his form floating sideways.
A shot of adrenaline hit Sunset’s system. What was he doing? No! Octavia was a head taller than him, she could, and would hurt the poor kid. No!
Her head raised up, hair peeling off the table and splaying down her cheeks. She was slow, so very, very slow. Everything was so… slow. Octavia’s fist froze inches from his face. She was an arms length from them both. She’d never reach in time.
The bear head fell off, his head inched downward, closer and closer to her fist. And, like a coward, she couldn’t bear to see him hurt. Sunset screwed her eyes shut. Their corners prickled, she was so useless.
Orthros grunted in pain. His head flung back so violently he crashed into a chair. He held himself on the rest, steadying shaky legs. His fingers wound round the wood like it was the only thing holding him up.
Sunset rushed to his side, spying empty, darting eyes full of nothing but fear. She wrapped her hand under his chest, gently resting him onto a plush cushion. She saw his shaking, She saw the bright pink bruise swelling so fast on his head, just a bit lower and ‘Tavi would’ve nailed him right between the eyes. She held his trembling hands and tucked his chin against her, body wrapped well around the boy.
She’d not noticed it before, but he was so, so small.
He took a shuddering breath, and refocused. His eyes gained light and he was back to the world of the living once, more. She could read him like a book. Happy eyes on seeing her, then wandering and wandering till he saw Octavia. Then, fear. Fear that twisted in metamorphosis as the seconds dragged on.
First, fear like a shock to the spine.
Then, fear like a cat flinching after being burned.
But in it’s midst, Fear for her.
Fear that she’d get hurt.
Finally, Steel, Fierceness and resolve to stop it.
It was the last one, that made Sunset awaken. It was the last one, such selfless sacrifice in the face of three people who had both size, age and numbers. Determination to protect her, knowing he’d lose.
It made Sunset find her spine.
“TH-FUCK- AA- OHMYGOD-OHGOD -F-”
Octavia’s index finger hung limply over her pinky. Her wrist bent at an awkward angle, said pinkie seemed to have gained a fifth joint. It was ugly, but so were they. Two cowards who did nothing to stop their friend from assaulting an innocent child. Her stomach tore it’s knots to bits, she didn’t need doubt. Her face flushed hot, eyes wide and arms curled protectively over the dizzy, limp Orthros. She coated her words with poison, with frustration and anger like when she'd burned her orphanage to ash.
“You won’t do that again,” she spat.
High Winds flinched, taking a cautious step back.
Octavia had taken to screaming incoherently, clasping her semi-ruined hand and slumped against a wall. Vinyl had wrapped herself around the girl, consoling her. High Winds warily guarded them, her arm hiding the huddled pair from Sunset and her trembling bear. The athlete’s expression was a mix of horrified, terrified and uniquely confused.
And... afraid.
Sunset’s brow was knit tight like the roots of an angry tree, curved sharply down and eyes wide with rage. Her breaths came in long inhales and choked, forceful exhales, her fingers shook, wishing for something to choke to relieve this great hate.
That’s what she felt, Hate.
In this moment, there were no people she hated more than this three.
“Leave, or I will make you,”
Gone, was the righteousness in High Winds’ gaze, gone was the boldness to act on someone who seemed weak. Gone was the anger in Octavia’s eyes, choked by pain and fear. She stared at Sunset through Vinyl’s arms like a shell-shocked soldier seeing death on a pale horse. ‘Tavi stared at Orthros, at his pale, emaciated face and panicked eyes that fled from hers. The young woman winced in guilt, whispering to her friends in hushed tones.
Slowly, their group slunk out the shop. Good. Because if they didn’t leave, Sunset couldn’t make them. Orthros buried his head into her chest and his gift, her knife, dug into her inner thigh. Her hand trembled and she clung to his small frame.
No, she wouldn’t.
She wasn’t… THAT…
She wasn’t…
She wouldn’t, couldn’t. Surely they deserved something, b-but, could she?
Sunset pushed her drink towards him, he took it emptily, focused on the slowly swinging door. She thought he might’ve hoped the door would smack them on the way out, she certainly did.
“You, alright?”
Orthros chuckled in a way most familiar to her. Like the first time she’d told her friends she wasn’t ‘Anon-A-Miss’, and gotten decked in the face for the courtesy.
“Peachy”
He sounded defeated, like he’d somehow failed. In a way, she could guess what. In a house full of violent individuals, a weak person wouldn’t feel very welcome. Orthros was clearly unused to such things. He seemed innocent, to her.
Even if he held the physicality for it, she doubted he would be capable of doing what his brother did.
“Huh?”
“Someone attacked him!”
“Orthros?”
“YES!”
“Blood?”
“No but-”
“Screaming?”
“-not from him- but- ”
“Took ‘im to the hospital?”
“Not yet-”
“He’s fine,”
“No, he wasn’t!”
“Nah, he is”
Casual dismissal, extremely casual. Like he believed their smallest to be invincible.
“He’s not!”
Sunset grabbed Asura’s arm, loosely as her hand couldn't wrap all the way round, dragging him to the living room. Only to witness Orthros leisurely playing ‘Pillage: Light Logos’ on his phone. While upside down, calves hanging off the headrest, feet kicking up at the ceiling.
His toes taunted her.
“Oh?” he drowsily murmured, “Sup ’sura?”
“Ye scared this one,“
Orthros eyes drifted up, down? to meet Sunset’s. They traced over her knit brow, down the stress marks on her terse expression. He winced.
“That I did. Mighty sorry Miss Sunset. Was playin’ it up a bit,”
Sunset’s eyelid twitched. She pointed at the reddish-blue bruise in the center of his forehead. The blow landed high, but almost perfectly between the eyes. Just a bit lower and he'd be a goner. It was a miracle the thing hadn’t swollen worse. She remembered the raw panic in his eyes.
The shock at someone actually striking him.
“You’re hurt,”
Orthros, wasn't used to violence. That much, she was certain of.
“I been hurt worse,” the long-sleeve fell as he raised his naked arm flush into the air, fingers clenching in demonstration. Serpentine scars stretched open to the swirling of his fingers, “I might not be as good as my bros-”
Asura wheezed in the background.
“-but I ain’t no slouch neither.”
Nearby, someone was doing a fantastic impression of a bodybuilder mid-seizure.
Sunset turned head sideways, seeing Asura, both lips tightly pressed together, stomach rippling in barely concealed laughter and face slowly turning blue. He was also earthbound, and convulsing, but that was neither here nor there.
“I-is he alright?”
Orthros ticked his head, as if to say, ‘you’re asking me?’. What he actually said was,
“Yep,”
Her lips pinched to the sides, lips thinning to a deadpan line.
Fuck it.
She fell into the single-seated recliner, enjoying the embrace of it’s plush.
Orthros giggled. His eyes goaded her, ‘one of us.’
She pursed her lips, reaching down and tickled his nose. His face scrunched, legs flailed and he almost rolled off the sofa. Notably, neither hand left the sides of his phone.
Two of my kin surrounded the newest addition to our home. I observed in silence, my figure masked behind one of the Odd walls.
Father had gone properly mad back then, in building this home. He’d wanted a design where he could see us wholly, and we could see naught but dark. It was quite effective a tool
He had an technique of him, punishment was meticulous, and the homestead complimented it. He’d leave me in the hallway, dark as night with only pale, thin moonlight to illuminate corridors clogged with darkness.
You’d have to stay there.
Stay till he graced you with punishment.
You were alone, sweating in a night too hot to be cold and too cold to be anything but hot. Minutes passed, minutes tick-tocked to hours sometimes.
The longest I’d ever waited was forty five minutes.
Counted every second.
Forty five minutes in that dark hallway endlessly wide where darkness slid off the sides and the certainty of evil eyes watching to ensure my compliance.
At forty six he was behind me, no sound or rustle or word or tussle.
But this was not the true torment, merely a, preparation of sorts. Like softening meat, tenderizing it for maximum effection. The first time this completed, I’d lost control of my bladder.
Cleaning the blood, spit, tears and piss was a disgusting experience.
Strangely, on future occasions, minusing the last item made it no less disgusting.
But, I digress, onto the next step in this process.
He’d hold me by my neck and cut my reedy legs to ribbons with a belt studded with gems. A belt which once owed its use to our mother.
At first it was indistinguishable from a normal belting. But then it would stretch on. Skin blistered and popped open, leaking red and orange-clear ooze like spoiled sorrel. Flesh split to venison pink and then, then it would truly begin.
There is no feeling comparative to false gems hooking into exposed flesh and tearing jagged, saw-toothed strokes across one’s calves, A scythe reaping pain in place of wheat.
Then, and only then, would he start counting.
But truly, enough rumination.
This was an idle memory, one my kind, even father, had all sat through, one they’d all suffered through. Some, more than others. But now, they were free larks.
Free, and invincible.
He knew them to be invincible, for he knew no man, no woman, capable of touching them. He’d planned well.
Father taught them well, fear was a tool.
She’d taught them better, joy was a tool. Give a man everything just to take it away.
A voice like a bottle of shaken gravel ground the words out behind the chair rest. of the one called Sunset.
“What, exactly happened, now?”
Asura.
“Everything was fine, mostly. Just some people from school giving me some trouble,”
“-some?” baritone and sarcastic as always.
“-not much, I doubt they were going much f-”
“-they were going to slap yer dirnk out them hands, I oughta break ‘em.”
Orthros lightly joked.
“Let’s,”
His brother agreed.
The joke landed like a lark talking flight, right over Ms. Shimmer's head. Her reaction was nothing less than visceral.
“-NO!”
Ms. Shimmer's fingernails dug into the armrests, eyes wide as saucer plates Spittle glittered behind filthy-yellowed teeth, for a second, before her lips crashed together in a tight line of conflicting emotion. One pale hand raked trenches across her hair as she started at something not quite there.
“I made a mistake, shouldn’t have done that”
A shiver run down Achilles spine. He rarely ever heard a voice so haunted, No civilian youth should have that, something was wrong. It, was... off. Not the trill of a killer, nor the growl of shame. Similar, but not. Empty, almost. The realization chased away the tremble in his spine.
No wonder his brothers hadn't reacted, for things like this, they likely knew in their bones what he spent seconds to realize. His kin were experienced, more in the fray than him, more animal and instinct than man and mind.
“I should’ve let them! You should’ve let them!”
“Sunny-s-what are you-”
“YOU DON’T GET IT!”
She exploded to her feet, arms spread wide, back arched and fangs bared towards their smallest sibling. Whose legs slung over the headrest and head slung down the calf cushions. Her eyes almost shone red, slimy drool pooled in the crevices of her open maw and her teeth seemed far more jagged than any human’s ever should be.
“Friendship always wins,” she rasped, sounding more like an old, defeated crone than any youth, ” alwayssss….. alwaysssss……”
“Wrong, I wi-”
Her hands closed round Orthros shoulders, then slid down, down to his neck and settled on the beating pulse of his heart. The suddenness of it shocked him into silence. From his vantage point, Achilles saw his brother’s eyes widen, then flicker with confusion. Achilles couldn’t quite see, but something else had caught the boy’s eye.
“ssshould’ve rrran,” she croned, “but yyou didn’t… you sssaved me…. You’ll regret it…”
The smaller boy raised his arms up, closing round the wild young woman and tightening like a vice none could escape.
“I won’t. I did the right thing,”
At first she struggled, for being dragged to your knees by an upside-down preteen wasn’t very comfortable. Eventually, though, she found a satisfactory position, and simply went limp in his anaconda-like grip. The corners of her eyes sparkled.
The distraught teen found some of her humanity in that embrace, she warbled,
“Should’ve d-done something, anything else!”
Orthros chuckled
“Do you really think that?”
Sunset opened her mouth to retort, then paused. Then, paused.
Then bawled.
I smiled, and turned to leave..
My smile, nothing but a small twitch of the lip.
He liked this, bonding like basket twine. Building trust, faith. They were going to need it. Soon, I would guide them back to her school.
Some would think me a fool for indulging something childish as a preteen's grudge.
You'd be right, if that were the only reason.
Nothing about that school lined up. Their children grew ears and used magic? Videos of a blue girl running so fast she was a blur? A literal blackout, thought to be caused by an explosion, only for an entire school to ward at the hospital the next day. None the worse for wear? White Bay's hypnotists showing up for a week then going missing after another explosion? Missing Ranger Corps three days apart in the ONLY area Canterlot students camped?
Not this shit again.
Not again, never again.
Gangs can live and die and hemmorage members. That, was doable.
But the government?
This city was on a tight enough leash already.
Not
Again
If it wasn't clear enough.
I...we, have a part this place. This new co-operation between legal and less-than-legal.
I shivered. This place used to be hell for us. Hell for everyone but the biggest fish. War, real war where no one was safe but the fattest, oldest most-well-dressed tophat sitting on his throne of bones. We changed that, in... our own small way.
No overzealous child is going to tip the balance, not as long as we breathe.
Four, was usually enough. Though, it might not be, if bacon-hair's intel was inaccurate. Quite likely.
Sunset... he liked her, she was valuable, but only so long as she did not impede them. She likely would, our methods are, extreme, though necessary.
No delusional woman who believes in magic is going to stop me from tearing the truth out of a walking corpse yet to die. Already the General was breathing down my neck about White Bay, was going to talk to that old bastard tonight.
Now, where the hell is Vandal?
Vandal waited in the dim car park. He was cold, the only thing keeping warm was the great white hate burning in his breast. The coarse fiber of his yellowed-beaten jacket reeked of spilled rum, his nose wrinkled. But both red rimmed eyes remained trained on the school. He’d never went to a… college? University? Hell’d you call one of these?
…
Fuck, he hated the nightly chill, sun having sunken beneath the blue horizon a while ago. Waves of blue-black covered the sky, rolling in darker and darker with each second. The cold was in his head, it hurt anyway, creeping up the hairs of his skin like sea-men scaling a lighthouse.
…
Time ticked on, and his gaze longingly swept across the distant school whose lights shone warmly like a far ship's lantern. Once, he wanted to go there. To one of those. To be one of them.
...
... ...
What did it matter.
He sneezed, the light rain having taken its tole, stubbornness rooted him in place. No sickness was the captain of his own fate.
Vandal slunk in the school’s shadow, watching over the staff car-park. The air was damp from fresh rain that ceased to stop. The air was humid, blue and heavy. His eyes peeled wide, set with the weight of blood unpaid, lips forming a taut line, tense and anxious. The staff door creaked like an old ship, his brows knit and lines creased his forehead. His knuckles stretched white on the rusty wrench in his left hand.
She was shorter than he remembered. Clad in a black jacket with white dots, leather jacket, leather pants and a full cloth suit underneath. Rich bitch. He’d have to aim for the head, she'd too much padding.
The woman made a break for her bike, the rain and moonlight might as well have put her in the beam of a lighthouse.
She inched closer, closer.
Closer.
Almost.
She straddled her motorcycle, her back to him. He lunged; wrench curling round like a compass to crack her temple.
Unluckily, she slipped in mount and he simply smashed her in the shoulder instead. The blow shoved 'er clean off the bike and onto the pitch. He didn’t feel bone, meaning she was fine.
Time to fix that.
Grunt “w-Who?”
Who wakes up in the morning expecting to be confronted by a wet bloke two heads taller than thee, wielding a wrench big than one’s own shin and dressed like a poor redneck. This was, by far, the most terrifying experience she’d had since coming out of jail.
Not so much before jail, but still her system was proper shaken, lighting back up in turn. Heat pooled in her core like she’d downed a full bottle of vodka and she could practically feel the sparkle in her eyes.
Finally! Something familiar!
Sure, the shoulder was a bit unfortunate, but this was doable.
The figure held the left side of his neck, cracked it, then charged at her like a rampaging comet. His wrench arced over his head, but she was quicker and ducked left, kicking his right calf on the way. It almost buckled, his head teetered sideways just into her reach. Lightness returned to her feet and she floated to his flank, scraping his eyes before he recovered his balance.
Didn’t quite see the fist tunneling under her chin.
Her world wrenched upside down and her tongue tasted bitter, grit and coarse.
She groaned, her fingers caught on the gravel and tore furrows. Her breathing was harsh, but she knew better than to take a break. Her neck snapped upwards. Eyes. Always. On. Target.
The hood fell from her head, her face. He saw her face.
He froze.
You must, understand, dear reader.
It is more than easy to hurt another.
All it takes is a lack of care for another.
A great hate that eclipses hope for any future that doesn’t involve jail.
Something so fiery that you don’t care what happens next.
Something so fierce and all-consuming it pricks the corners of your eyes, raises the sinews of your neck to pipes of iron printed through flesh. It tumbles your shoulders, rising and falling like the crest of a wave and flushes your palms vibrant, pulsing red.
It fills you, demanding to be let out.
Yet, there exists something that overcomes even that.
Fear
A beaten dog will remember the face of it’s tormentor, their voice, their scent.
Any of these things, can drag that mutt back, back and back to when they suffered.
A great beast will loom over them; their mind will turn black and trembling will possess their frame.
Vandal’s shoulders shook.
Their breath will shallow
He couldn’t breathe.
They will lose perception of their surroundings
The wrench clattered onto the pavement.
They will lose their sense of self
He felt smaller, younger, afraid, ‘Why did I ever think I could win?’
