> On Redemption > by PKAnon > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > 1 - Conundrum > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- In front of her sat two explosives, their fuses ignited long before that precarious point in time.  Twilight’s eyes flickered between the two of them as she cautiously measured their yield, lips curved awkwardly in worried concentration. The multi-roomed tent around her rose a fair few degrees in temperature, her body an uncomfortable beacon of heat. She inwardly wondered which to defuse first. Logically, she knew that the one on the right would be nothing short of catastrophic if it were to detonate, but something about the sheer possibility of the leftmost bomb going off made her skin crawl. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she considered their inner workings. Her eyes danced between them, both of their wiring and circuitry akin to an alien language in the face of her Equestrian optimism.  ‘How do I do this?’ she wondered, beads of turmoil pooled on her raised brow. ‘How do I get out of this without any collateral damage?’ The steady, unyielding ticking of the clock on the wall proved an ill backdrop for her frenetic thoughts, but she knew that she would have to make a decision eventually. A deep breath, held unknowingly, exited her lungs. It tainted the open air with her unease. As she stood, defiant of any outcome but the most ideal, her hooves almost imperceptibly shook underneath her, as if they would no longer support such a fear-addled body. In as even a tone as she could muster, she willed herself to speak.  “She’s going to help run the tent.”  In the blink of an eye, each bomb’s fuse shortened considerably. Twilight winced as the rightmost explosive rose to her hooves, her eyes wild with displeasure. “I beg your pardon?” Chrysalis asked, distraught. “Not only do I have to be some lowly merchant in this miserable tradition of pointless festivities, I have to do it with… with him?!”  She pointed, aghast, at the bomb to Twilight’s left, whose frown deformed his entire face. With crossed arms, he leaned forward, his elbows propped against his knees.  “No,” Anon said plainly. “Not a chance, Twilight.”  Ouch. He never called her that, not since she first met him. She started to wince, to shrink back into herself, but something newly within her rose up into her chest; a princess’s conviction. It had always been there, but after the acquisition of her wings, it had grown exponentially.  “I’m sorry, but that’s how this has to happen. This is a perfect opportunity for the both of you to work past your differences, and for Chrysalis to take an important next step toward her reformation!”  Indignation warped their faces. Their fuses whipped about, racing to their terminus.  “Twilight, she vaporized a third of my house during her last attempt at an invasion,” Anon explained, a bulging vein in his forehead. She knew that, of course; she was the one being fired at, after all. She apologized to Anon a million times over that day, but thankfully, he never blamed her for any of it. “You’re lucky that’s all I had time to do,” Chrysalis growls.  Chrysalis, to her credit, had made gargantuan strides in her journey toward reformation since her capture. In the beginning, she refused to speak at all, and would lash out at anypony that dared come close to her cell. The reminiscence of her progress is what kept Twilight confident as her focused stare traded blows with Anon’s scowl. “That’s why you’re the perfect candidate for this,” she explains. “Making amends is one of the most important things a pony can learn to do, and it’s essential to making sure friendships stay afloat in tough times.”  Anon sighed as he held his head in his hands.  “I mean, yeah, that’s fine and dandy, but you’re missing a pretty important part of the equation. We aren’t-” “I will never be friends with this unruly ape!” Chrysalis shouted as the magic suppression ring on her horn glowed under strain. “Not after his abhorrent actions toward the Hive.” Anon picked his head up slowly, the vein on his head far more pronounced. His cold, almost frightening gaze scanned her for a few moments before returning to Twilight, settling on an honest attempt at neutrality. “…Yeah. That.”  The memory of the incident, fresh in Twilight’s mind, contorted her face into a grimace as she cast her eyes elsewhere.  Because Anon’s house was a recent addition to the outer edge of Ponyville, Chrysalis’s drones missed it during their initial sweep and had to double back after most of the ponies had been captured. He didn’t exactly appreciate being woken up in the middle of his midday nap, halfway restrained with changeling goop. She wasn’t there for it at that point, since she hadn’t broken out of captivity yet, but she did read the reports of what happened afterward. Gardening tools, scrap metal shavings, a welding mask, hairspray, a lighter… whatever must have been in reach for him. Every unorthodox implement that somehow found its way into Anon’s hands culminated in just over two dozen injured changelings, four of which ended up in the hospital. In the end, it took eight of them to finally restrain him enough so that he could be drained.  Twilight had asked him about it once during lunch, to which he dryly replied that his uncle ‘taught him some things he’d never forget.’ She would always be close friends with Anon, but after that day, the light in which she viewed the mostly-gentle giant would never be quite the same again.  Now, though, that would work to her advantage.  “I understand that the two of you have… less than favorable history,” she says, “but think of what you may stand to gain. Sometimes, a rocky start may lead to a wonderful friendship. Look at Discord and Fluttershy!”  Chrysalis scoffed, slinking back down into her wooden chair.  “I don’t intend on becoming anything like that lap dog, Sparkle.”  Twilight can’t help but glower at her hard-headed insult. Discord was like that, too, at first… but she kept that to herself for the time being.  “The fact that you think he’s a ‘lap dog’ says more about you than it does him,” Anon retorts, arms crossed as he leans back.  Chrysalis’s glare was an enchantment away from shooting daggers straight through his head.  “At least I can say something of him,” she says lowly, words dripping with venom. “I can’t think of a single notable thing about you.”  “Twenty six of your drones would disagree.”  Before another hastily-concocted provocation could pass between them, Twilight forced their chairs apart with magic, holding them tight to their seats as they sailed in opposite directions across the tent.  “Enough,” she declared, her wings flaring in authority. “Trading insults back and forth isn’t productive for anypony here.”  Doubt crossed her mind but briefly. Anon needed all hooves - hands - on deck to make sure he was able to put out plates of food at a decent pace, and Chrysalis had to play along to eventually walk free. Both hesitant to accept the other, yet both with an ultimate goal that required their cooperation.  The possibility of their interaction being naught more than transactionary lied at the forefront of her mind. Had she made an oversight…? …Well, even if she did, the situation didn’t leave any room for corrections. For better or worse, the two were stuck together. Twilight just hoped that her initial intuition would pay off.  “Celestia sent a few senior members of the Royal Guard to make sure things go smoothly,” Twilight explained, giving neither of them time for a smart reply. “They’re waiting outside right now. I have to help Mayor Mare organize the main event, but I’ll swing by to try a veggie burger whenever we take a break for lunch.”  “You better,” Anon replied, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’ve been talking about trying them for weeks. ‘Sides, you owe me now.”  Guilt began to gnaw away at her. In the end, she did spring this on him.  “I know,” she replied, a smile beset against her fear of failure.  She glanced up at the clock - it was almost time to begin preparations. Swiftly, she made her way over to Anon, who sat up a bit straighter as she approached.  “If you need anything, just place this in the center of your palm and squeeze.” A flourish of her pinkish aura lit the room as she manifested a small coin in front of her. Anon tentatively plucked it out of its uncanny stillness in the air and passed his fingers over the raised, metal imprint of Twilight’s trio of stars.  “Well, this is new,” he said. “What is it?”  “It doesn’t have a name just yet,” Twilight explained, “But it’s something I’ve been working on for the past few weeks. If something happens and we’re separated, you can envelop the coin in your natural magical signature, and it’ll resonate with my cutie mark. It’s a bit similar to how the map works, but just distinct enough to where I can tell the difference. The girls all have their own, too.”  Anon frowned as he flipped the coin over with his fingers. “And palming the thing accounts for me not being able to actually use magic?”  She confirmed his curiosity with a curt nod.  “Even if you have no way to use it, you still have a natural aura, just like everypony else.”  Anon’s eyebrows lifted slightly, lips pursed in acknowledgement.  “Fair enough,” he said, pocketing the new invention before a restrained look of horror flashed in his eyes. “Please tell me it doesn’t make your butt vibrate like that map does.”  Twilight’s laughter filled the tent.  “No, I was able to circumvent that. I just wish there were a way to get around it whenever the map calls one of us.”  “If you’re both finished,” Chrysalis interjected from across the room, “I’d quite like to get this over with, thank you.”  What smithereens of Anon’s smile did exist were promptly erased as reality spoke aloud once more. Twilight hoped to keep him in relatively high spirits as she did her best to remain chipper.  “I wouldn’t be so hasty, Chrysalis. You might end up enjoying yourself after all - Anon is one heck of a chef!”  Chrysalis didn’t dignify her with a response, and opted instead to stare at some fixed point against the tent wall. “I mean, I only really know how to make a few things somewhat decently,” Anon replied bashfully. “But thanks, Twi. Means a lot, coming from you.”  When the nickname she had become so used to finally left his mouth, she beamed from ear to ear. With one hoof raised, she met Anon in a tight hug that lasted a few moments before they both separated.  “I expect both of you to be on your best behavior,” she said with authority as her gaze passed between the both of them. “No shenanigans, alright?” “Okay, mom,” Anon teased. Twilight stuck her tongue out at him before looking over at Chrysalis, who met her eyes with barely restrained irritation. “Of course,” she replies flatly. Twilight wasn’t quite satisfied with the terse nature of her reply, but it would have to do.  “I’ll leave you two to get started, then. I hope the both of you have a wonderful Summer Sun Celebration!”  As she navigated her way out of the sizable tent, passing by Anon’s grills and other cooking utensils, she did her best to stow her uncertainty deep within her anxious bones.  Anon sighed, filling the dead air within the tent with his exasperation. ‘How’d it ever end up like this?’ he thought.  The whole thing, being one of the food vendors for the Summer Sun Celebration, was supposed to be an enjoyable experience. Make food, make people smile, get paid, finance replacing some of his things that were destroyed in the invasion - altogether, a pleasant time. And then his favorite purple nerd came along a few days before the festival, stating that she had some sort of “special friendship assignment” for him. She wouldn’t tell him what it was, either, which set off some alarm bells in his head. He trusted her, though, so he went along with whatever she had in mind. She’d never steered him wrong before; this wouldn’t be so bad, right? When she showed up outside of his vendor tent accompanied by the reason his house was in shambles, though, Anon’s faith in the situation died. Even as he stood in the uncomfortable silence of his tent, watching the retinue of guards piling in through the entrance flap, it remained gone.  As they all took their positions in various points across the limited work space, he looked over at the former changeling queen, still stewing in her seat. Her imposing form was, at once, diminutive against the circumstances of her presence. It was all kept in check by that ring on her horn, he supposed - the very thing that kept her from enforcing her will on the world, from shifting into another form and wreaking havoc.  If only the device could keep her ego in check as well. Anon begrudgingly steeled himself for the day to come.  “Have you ever cooked anything before?” Anon asked, picking up a checklist from the vendor table at the front of the tent.  Chrysalis, in near disbelief, sized Anon up.  “Changelings don’t require physical sustenance,” she deadpanned. “We feed off of emotions.”  “I’m familiar. Doesn’t tell me whether you’ve ever been curious enough to try it, though.”  A few moments of silence pass between them as Anon finishes reading through his list, glancing back at the rear area of the tent where the coolers were. “No,” Chrysalis said plainly.  “You’re lucky I happened to bring the recipe card, then.” Anon fished it out of his pocket, uncrumpling it as best as he could before walking over and handing it to her, only for her to stare at it silently for a few moments as the suppression ring glowed a sickly green. An exasperated sigh ejected itself from her nostrils as she made the realization that she would have to use her hoof to grab it, which she did in short order, borderline snatching it out of Anon’s hand to read it. “Get familiar with the ingredients,” Anon ordered, flat and direct. “I’ll be doing most of the actual cooking. You’re the sous chef, helping out whenever I need it.”  As she looked up from the card, Anon bore witness to the fires of resentment, hiding just behind her slitted pupils. Forcing a smile, she deigned to speak.  “Of course,” she said, saccharine sweet words dripping with feigned positivity. “I only hope that, through our partnership, I can learn more about friendship from one of Twilight’s trusted companions.”  Anon eyed Chrysalis coldly from the corner of his vision.  “No, you don’t.”  Her smile dropped from her features, but before she could follow up with any retort, Anon continued.  “You’re not actually trying to learn anything about friendship. You’re here because if you keep in line with this ‘reformation’ stuff long enough, you’ll go free. It’s nothing more or less than that.”  Her eyes narrow at him.  “If you assume that of me, then why agree to any of this?”  “Because I trust Twilight,” he replied. “Even if I think she’s wrong.” Chrysalis chuckled, amused.  “How paradoxical. You trust her, but hold the opinion that I’m beyond redemption?”  “I trust that she knows what she’s doing,” Anon replied, fully facing Chrysalis with a cool glare. “But I’ve known people like you before. You don’t want to change.”  Anon made for the rear of the tent to start unpacking the ingredients, but stopped just before he crossed the threshold. “So let’s not pretend like we care about each other. I would rather just get this over with.”  Without waiting for her reply, he stepped into the back, and Chrysalis was left sitting with the plethora of unmoving guards.  An odd, warped frown took hold of her features, surprised by Anon’s jaded condemnation. She hadn’t intended to hide her true intentions in the first place, but being called out on it so brazenly was a decidedly new experience, especially from an Equestrian.  Regaining her composure, she stood, content that she wouldn’t have to feign anything with this creature. “I couldn’t agree more.”  > 2 - Heliochrome > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The heat of the grill in tandem with the hot summer sun looked to bake Anon alive, even in the generous shade of the tent.  He picked up a towel lying on a nearby lawn chair as he checked the second of three grills, dabbing his forehead lightly before he opened the lid. A light haze of smoke billowed out, filtering through numerous slits in the roof above; he inwardly thanked Mayor Mare for her generosity in terms of tent quality. He grabbed a spatula and turned the patties over, adherent to the time constraint he had set to obtain the most thorough cooking job. With the batch on its latter half of the process, he set about manning the counter as a wayward family stopped by to see what all the fuss was about.  “What’s all this?” the stallion of the house asked, eyeing the cluster of finished burgers sitting out on the vendor table with a curious smile.  Anon put on the friendliest face he could muster as he gestured to the fruit of his labor. “Veggie burgers! About as close as you can get to the delicacy from my home without any meat.” His wife’s eyebrows shot up, her attention now thoroughly affixed to them as well.  “They smell wonderful! What are they made with?” she asked. “It’s a black bean base, believe it or not. The recipe is a family secret, but it’s one hundred percent vegetarian.” Anon swept his gaze over the few remaining plates on the table. The burgers had actually sold somewhat well, which was a pleasant surprise. He wasn’t sure whether or not ponies would take to an imitation dish, simply based on cultural reasons. The closer he got to the day of the festival, the more he genuinely expected to take a fair bit of it home as leftovers.  In reality, he had just barely been able to keep pace with how many ponies had meandered over to his humble counter. It wasn’t a whole lot, given that he was the only one in the tent actively cooking, but seeing people genuinely enjoy his dishes helped bring some authenticity to his servicing smile.  Of course, it was mostly the bits that helped that out, but he would never openly admit that. Thanks to that, though… “If you wanna try one, you can,” Anon offered. “First one’s on the house.”  “Oh, no, we’d be more than happy to pay,” the stallion said.  Anon waved his objections off and scooted a plate toward the trio. “I insist. Consider it a Summer Sun Celebration special.”  The mare’s face lit up with surprise as she looked back and forth between her husband and child.  “What do you think?” she asked, zeroing in on the beaming colt. “Do you wanna try some, Haze?”  He enthusiastically nodded his head, almost toppling himself over. The corners of Anon’s smile crept ever so closer to his ears as he slid one of the plates forward to be received by the stallion’s magic.  “Enjoy, you three. Happy Summer Sun Celebration!”  “You as well!” the stallion and mare said in tandem, walking off with their kid to go join the crowd elsewhere.  Anon’s grin slowly slid off of his face, replaced by a creeping apathy as he watched them leave. He looked down at the vendor table; only four plates left, but the festival was about to reach its apex, so he’d have a bit of a break soon. The patties on the grill would be his leftovers, then, if it all went the same as it had been. With a sigh, he re-organized the finished plates horizontally across the front of the table before heading toward the back of the tent.  From within the ingredient storage area, Anon could hear his resident “helper” cursing to herself. As he proactively lamented the maelstrom he was about to walk in on, he wondered if he could request payment from Twilight for putting up with being what basically amounts to a babysitter. He deftly parted the curtain to the right, bracing himself for the worst.  Chrysalis, for the most part, had been surprisingly amicable when it came to being delegated to her position readying ingredients. Though she had two left hooves when it came to actually doing it, the relative solitude was something she seemed to enjoy, since Anon only ever interacted with her when he needed more toppings or pre-frozen patties. All the better for him. …Is what he would have thought, had he not walked in on a veritable mess of his remaining onions. On a perfectly sizable table that spanned the length of the back wall, there sat Chrysalis, hunched over a single hastily-peeled one. Spread across said table, apart from stacks of other toppings here and there, was an ungodly amount of poorly diced sections of the aforementioned vegetable. On the dirt beneath her rested two or three outright failed attempts to even begin to peel the things, one of them smashed entirely.  Anon did his best to quell his overwhelming frustration, the majority of which was released in a heaving sigh. “…Guess nobody else is having one with onions.”  Chrysalis spun around, indignation dragging the center of her brow downward.  “Perhaps they would, if you incompetent despots would let me use my magic,” she spat.  Anon chuffed, amused at her bargain.  “No sell. Earth ponies and pegasi get on just fine, and so will you.”  He checked his pocket watch as his assistant glared a hole through his head. “Besides, the main event is about to start. We can take a break for now, there won’t be anyone coming to the tent until it’s over.”  “A bit odd to offer a reprieve to your nemesis, creature,” Chrysalis jabbed with a contorted grin. Anon frowned in contempt as he pocketed his timepiece once more. “You’re not my ‘nemesis,’ you’re just something I need to deal with for another few hours. Do you want a break, or not?”  The onion in her hoof rolled off and thudded against the tabletop, rolling indiscriminately for a moment before it came to a halt next to the unsliced pickles.  “I suppose a reprieve from this dull task would be nice.” The former queen rose to her hooves with an air of reluctance, despite having sounded like she was quietly fighting for her life naught but five seconds earlier. Anon, inwardly smirking at her unwarranted pride, walked to the opposite end of the room and opened a second cooler, still full of drinks despite the later time of day.  “You don’t eat, but I’m guessing you still need water?” “So he does possess a brain,” Chrysalis chided. “Or what’s left of one.”  Anon’s eyebrow climbed high, a smirk held fast on his features.  “Hold onto that wit, changeling,” he said, mimicking her disrespect for him. “That's all you have left, now.”  He dug around in the ice chest for a few moments before settling on two bottles of water for now, preemptively opening hers. Not out of kindness, mind you; he simply didn’t feel like being drenched when she inevitably crushed the thing with her unwieldy hooves.  “You mock the loss of my Hive, do you?” she asked, her malicious voice reaching out with curled fingers. “Count yourself lucky that I’m beholden to the whims of that ‘princess’ of yours.” Anon knew he could draw the exchange out, rib her until she finally lost control and was locked away or turned to stone, but he didn’t. As much as he would’ve loved to have been shriven clean of the tyrant’s insufferable presence, he truly trusted that Twilight saw something in her that he didn’t. Some hidden sign, an omen of who she could be, tucked away in that black heart of hers.  So he relented, as difficult as it was.  “I wouldn’t mock your loss of family, Chrysalis. Just poking fun.” She said nothing as he handed the bottle over to her, which she took with mild difficulty. From outside, cheers erupted from across the fairgrounds - the ceremony had started. Anon started making his way out into the vendor area, but looked back as he crossed the threshold. “You can come sit out here, if you want.” Chrysalis, mid-swig, regarded him with a simple, subtle nod of her head, beads of water trailing down the sides of her maw from the sudden motion. Not bothering to wait for her, he trod out to the vendor table again, where he took a seat in his plastic chair.  Across the field, what looked like the entire population of Ponyville was out in force, surrounding the stage that Twilight and Mayor Mare had no doubt meticulously planned. In order to allow for a streamlined clean-up after the invasion, Celestia had chosen to postpone the ceremony until later in the day. It wouldn’t have quite the same effect as ushering in the morning, but everyone ate it up nonetheless.  From where his tent had been pitched, he had a clear view of the ceremony platform, laden with a myriad of intricate sun-themed decorations and gifts alike. There, at the apex of the elevated floor, stood Celestia, flanked by a retinue of her guard on each side. The smile she cast out into the crowd was a declaration of unconditional gratitude and warm regards, and as she spread her wings to their full breadth, the crowd roared in praise. For them, it was as if she was an embossment to their world; a divine figure, spreading her good works among the fortunate citizens whom she called her own. “Fools.” Anon, ripped from his musings, cast his gaze rightward and found Chrysalis sitting in a chair much like his, eyeing the ceremony with vitriol. She set her water bottle on the table and paced over to where it would all be out of her sight. “If you all were any more blinded by worship, I might actually feel some modicum of pity for you.”  Anon shuffled in his seat as he watched the crowd undulate, their stamping hooves upon the ground felt even where he rested his feet.  He couldn’t blame them for regarding Celestia the way they did, given all she had done for the world. Shoot, he was a fan of hers, too, after the way she treated him when he first arrived. Some ponies took it way too far, though. Nobody who actually knew her beyond passing words dipped their hooves into that pseudo-religious idolatry, but to many, she was the very reason that the day existed at all. Mothers would tell their children stories of how their very civilization came to be at the siblings’ behest - stories that had been told thousands of times over, winding back through countless lifetimes. Anon supposed that the only reason Celestianism hadn’t taken off was because she was still around to stop it from happening. “Are they wrong to see comfort in her?” Anon quietly asked. Chrysalis exhaled, irritated.  “They see only what they have been told to see for generations.”  “And what do you see?”  Chrysalis meandered back to the right of Anon, her scathing glare fixed solely on Celestia as the latter delivered her speech. “An inept figurehead who denied my Hive the life they deserve.”  The guard nearest to her tensed as his expression broke for a split second, resentment radiating from beneath his armor and turning the air thick. Anon, having heard his armor shuffle, sought to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Your hive is alright, though, as far as I can tell. The ones who changed, anyway. Is your criticism of her really borne of caution, or of jealousy?” “Your very inquiry is borne of ignorance,” she retorted. “How could a creature who has only known this world for a handful of years - as an Equestrian, no less - possibly understand what’s best for the changeling race?” Anon paused as Celestia began her ascent, a golden glow illuminating her as she crested toward the clouds.  “I can’t.” “Hm,” she grunted. “As I thought.”  But even so, it wasn’t difficult to see just how much a changeling’s quality of life improved when they had finally decided to give love freely.  Higher still, she climbed; the clouds gave way, a wide berth in her wake so that all below could bear witness.  “And you?” Chrysalis asked. “What do you see when you look at her?”  Anon continued tracking Celestia’s flight. Finally, in what looked to be the very heavens themselves, she slowed, circling the sun once, twice, three times. Her silhouette danced across its visage, each minute movement a carefree waltz.  She was having fun. A sudden downturn drove her below the sun, but she swung it around until it put her directly into the path of the heavenly star. Her speed increased, driving her forward. Higher.  Higher, until - In one perfect flourish, she took her destined place in front of the light of day, and it refracted off of her, showering the mortals below with radiant benevolence.  The immense crowd erupts into unrestrained cheers, joy aplenty. Anon squinted, lest his eyes burn out of their sockets.  “Just a mare, I think,” he finally answered. “Nothing more, nothing less.”  Chrysalis eyed him up and down, her anger having given way for bewilderment. Anon met her wavering gaze with stone-faced conviction, assured in his disastrously straightforward analysis of the ruler’s character. She tutted, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground as she traipsed back over toward the grills. “How presumptuous.” A silence took hold of the tent for some time as Celestia slowly descended from her otherworldly perch. As she rejoined the crowd below, Anon felt something tugging at him, though what, he wasn’t sure.  Before he could dive into introspection, though, a nasally, posh Canterlot accent forcefully ripped him into the present.  “Good sir?” Anon, a look of surprise on his face, set his eyes upon the stallion that had called out to him.  The sunglasses resting upon his snout were circular, with deep blue lenses that appeared almost completely opaque. His mane was neatly kept in gray, flowing curls, lined along his neck and spilling ever so slightly to the sides. The light, cream-shaded coat of fur covering his body was well-cared for, evident in the subtly wavy patterns and striations of fur on his chest. The cutie mark resting on his backside, nearly covered up by his wings, was that of an unfurled scroll in a state of tabula rasa.  Anon hadn’t seen the stallion yet. Perhaps he was just a late arrival who forgot to eat beforehand? ‘That’s odd, especially if he’s one of those upper-crust types,’ Anon thought.  “How can I help you?” he asked, his customer service face at the ready. Not a moment after the sentence fell from his mouth, he realized that Chrysalis was still in the front area of the tent. If he saw her, and word got around, there goes the rest of his bits for the day - after all, who would want to buy food that she had touched?  Luckily, from where the stallion was standing, it seemed as if he couldn’t see her. “My veggie burger was a bit undercooked,” the stallion continued. “And as a result, I’ve unfortunately come down with a hefty stomach ache. As such, I’d appreciate a refund.”  Anon inwardly heaved an unsteady breath, and cursed whatever force bade him suffer.  It was going to be one of those.  It seemed as though hustlers were a universal constant, no matter the reality. Thankfully, they’re painfully obvious in Equestria.  “I’m sorry, sir,” Anon began as he pointed to the marker board resting on the table. “As per the sign, if you can’t procure proof of purchase via a receipt, then a refund isn’t possible.”  The stallion’s neutral expression sank into irritation.  “I accidentally threw it away, along with the plate. Do I really need a piece of paper to be refunded for my continued pain? My word should be more than enough.” “You do,” Anon reaffirmed. “The sign notating as such has been out here since I set up. Surely you saw it when you purchased the burger?” “Well…” the stallion stammered. “It wasn’t out when I was here!”  “That’s plainly untrue, sir. You can ask the neighboring vendors, and they’ll all answer to the contrary.”  “So, what, then?” the stallion huffed, his frustration deepening. “You’d have me dig through trash to retrieve the blasted thing, is that it?”  “I wasn’t suggesting that,” Anon replied, steadfast. “My only assertion is that, without the receipt, I can’t start the refund process.” Anon’s hopes of a peaceful resolution were dashed when the stallion all but tore the sunglasses off of his face, revealing two irrationally jaded eyes ripping him apart.  “Well, you have some nerve, sir!” he began, trying his best to be imposing as he strutted up to the counter. “How dare you swindle me out of my hard-earned bits?”  His raised voice carried easily, and though the dispersing crowd in the distance was largely preoccupied, heads were starting to turn. Anon, doing his best to stay level, reinforced his policy once more. “Like I said, sir, if you don’t have a receipt, then I can’t help you. It’s a protective measure for the business.”  “‘Protective measure’ my flank! You’re scamming innocent ponies out of their bits with meals that turn their stomachs sour!”  “Sir,” Anon replied, tongue drenched in seething exasperation as he raised his own volume. “I have timed every single batch of my burgers to the letter, and pre-formed the patties so as to ensure that the black bean mix is evenly and completely cooked. Unless you can provide the receipt and burger as evidence to support your claims, then I cannot help you.” He leaned down toward the belligerent pegasus, slowing his speech to a crawling murmur.  “You don’t wanna do this. Not over a burger that cost you three bits.”  The stallion faltered for a moment before doubling down, stamping his hoof firmly into the growing as he blew at Anon through his nose.  “Of course I do, you freak!” he continued, the insult having done nothing to help Anon’s oncoming fit. “If I don’t have my bits back in the next minute, so help me, I swear I’ll have my legal-” “Be silent and leave my presence, you swollen-headed hatchling!”  Chrysalis’s booming shout caught Anon off guard as she dashed into view of the pegasus, whose anger was quickly replaced with bowel-voiding fear. The guards of the tent readied their spears for her to make any sort of move against them, but it never came. “W-w-wha-”  “Did your Queen stutter?” she interrupted, baring her teeth in the same rage that had terrified the countryside. “Be gone! I tire of your insufferable tantrum.”  With a frenzied point of her hoof elsewhere, the stallion took off in a sprint, stumbling as his hooves trembled with every swing of his legs. Anon didn’t want to look at the crowd, but he forced himself to. Panicked faces were scattered about, all pointed squarely in his direction. Some ran, some looked around for guards, some even froze in their tracks. At once, Anon felt the icy burn of shame crawl across his cheeks as he shut his eyes, falling back into his chair.  There went the rest of his profits.  “Celestia’s upper peasantry could use a lesson in etiquette,” Chrysalis spat, her fury cooling as she followed the con artist’s every step with her freakishly acute vision. “I’ve no stomach for entitled brats.” Anon let his head hit the back of the plastic chair. He opened his eyes to the undulating roof of the tent as he chuckled grimly. “Thanks.” “I didn’t do it for you, creature,” Chrysalis retorted coolly. Wordlessly, he stuck his hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers tightly around Twilight’s coin as he situated it firmly into his palm. “…I bet you had fun working guys like that over during your invasions.” To Anon’s surprise, a genuine chuckle found itself bobbing in her throat.  “Oh, you’ve no idea.”