A Princess' Monster: Part 5

~A Princess' Monster~
[Part V]
|Vento Ardente|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

>Your footsteps echo through the abandoned tunnels. It gives you an empty feeling, as if you walked inside a black hole. Your footsteps would travel down the tunnel and never bounce back, eaten by the darkness ahead of you. It's surprisingly cold, you have to pull your coat on tighter so that it traps the heat within you.
>You have with you an assortment of toys given to you by Ms. Sparkle and the princess. As always you carry your faithful dagger, sharp and ready for action. But you also carry whisperweed, a fancy lantern, a Webley Mk IV, a gas mask, a few canisters of tear gas and a box of matches.
>Never had you been so equipped. Usually just your dagger and a handkerchief would do, but now your killings were to be more large scale. Especially tonight. A mass murder planned for the attendees of Mr. Peon's independence rally.
>"You're taking a left at the next intersection. From there you'll continue straight onward until you reach a dead end."
>Ms. Pastoral's wonderful voice rests in your ear via whisperweed. You trace your fingers around the blades of grass tied around your ear, interesting magic it is.
"How long until I'm able to go up top? I mislike the feel of these dark tunnels."
>"Come now Lapdog. You aren't afraid of the dark, are you?"
"For the last time that's not my codename, and it isn't the dark that gets to me. I'm excited."
>You come to the intersection and make a left, continuing down an even darker, danker tunnel than before. You walked over train tracks, railings that lay deeply embedded in the ground and rusted over.
>"Excited? I guess that's one way to put it."
"You don't agree Ms. Pastoral?" you ask, kicking loose rocks as you make your way about.
>"I can hardly say I do. I mean, how can you be excited about what you're about to do? Don't you have a conscience?"
>You laugh aloud, your thunderous voice booming all throughout the underground.

"Do you know who I am? I do this for pleasure, it's a hobby. Now I'm somewhat being paid for it, so why wouldn't I be excited?"
>The mare is quiet for some time. All you can hear is the emptiness that walks beside you.
>"But why? What about murder is appealing? I can see if it were only your job; if you were a hired assassin. But to kill out of pleasure? That's just evil."
>You huff. And here you thought she wasn't the kind to persecute you.
"Call it what you will it is what I enjoy. But don't go thinking you're innocent. You're still participating in that damned mare's little project. You're just as 'evil' as I."
>You swing your lantern as you walk, trying to balance on the train tracks. Long ago you had stopped caring how the world saw you. You've already accepted that you were a monster so it made no sense to be troubled by someone calling you what you are. It's as foolish as a man getting upset if he is referred to as a male. It is just a simple fact, a state of being.
>"There's a difference between you and I, Lapdog."
"And what is that?"
>You notice Pastoral's voice become hushed and secretive.
>"I don't do this because I want to. I do it because it is my job, if I had the choice I would never be here participating in this disgusting display of violence. I'm only following orders."
>You stop swinging your lantern and you lose your balance on the train tracks. You're silent for a long time and for awhile the only sound you can hear is the emptiness of the tunnel and Pastoral's breathing.
>Then another laugh leaves you, a mighty roar like a boar's.
>"What's so funny!?" she demands.
>It takes you awhile before you break from your fit of laughter. Wiping the tears away from your eyes you continue forward.
"You remind me of a certain group of people in my world. Some considered them the worst humans possible."
>"What do you mean?" she asks, now curious.

"I don't remember how long ago it was, but in my world there was a war. A war waged by a certain country that wished to exterminate an entire race..."
>Pastoral surprisingly doesn't interrupt you and you continue on.
"...Their leader ordered his soldiers to round up this race of people and systematically murder them. In mass amounts, inhumanely. This country however lost the war, but the international community weren't about to turn a blind eye to those displays of 'disgusting violence'. The soldiers who carried out these killings were put on trial. Their plea: "I was just following orders." Now Ms. Pastoral, do you believe those soldiers innocent, protected by the code of a soldier?"
>"I... Yes. Those soldiers were innocent. As a soldier, it is your duty to follow orders, no matter how problematic."
>Pastoral is confident in her answer. So much so that she adopts a slight tone of arrogance. It was in some way cute.
"The rest of the world didn't share your opinion. They were still held responsible for the deaths of millions. These soldiers were sentenced to death themselves, and that was that. Now consider whether or not Equestria will view you the same way. Will they pardon you on the idea of a soldier's loyalty? Or will they condemn you to die like those soldiers?"
>You wait patiently for her answer. Not even you know the answer, or have enough knowledge to even develop one. You interacted with her kind so rarely that you have no real knowledge of what they're actually like.
>"What about you Lapdog? Do you think those soldiers should have been spared?"
>Pastoral turns the question around on you. Which was disappointing, you wanted to hear her answer.
>But you already know your answer, it's incredibly easy.
"Of course not. Although I'm sure some of those soldiers enjoyed it, most only murdered because it was their job. There's no passion in murder if all it is is a job to you. They were tools used by a monster, making them disposable."

>"But that's horrible! Lives aren't expendable, they aren't something to just throw away!"
"Then why do countries participate in war? Throwing thousands of lives against each other? Apparently lives -are- expendable. It's all tragic really. When one kills, he should honor his victim, cherish the moment. On the battlefield there is no time to indulge yourself in the act of ending a life. Killing isn't worth it if you can't enjoy it. And the government ignores this, dictating who you kill. You have no freedom to choose who dies, instead you are assigned a target."
>You become a bit hostile. You can't help but think about the situation you're currently in. A tool to be used by the princess. Your victims were no longer selected by you, instead by someone else. Forcing you to kill those who have no worth to you.
>"Is that all you care about? Murder?"
"Mostly yes. It is my reason for living."
>You come to a dead end, a high brick wall that touches the ceiling.
"I've arrived at the dead end, now what?" you ask.
>But Pastoral doesn't answer you. Instead Twilight- or "Biblio" answers, her voice much louder than Pastoral's.
>"Good work Lapdog. There should be a loose brick somewhere on that wall, try tugging on it. It'll open up a panel, leading you to an alleyway. Mr. Peon frequents that alley on his way to the docs..."
>Twilight pauses, the sound of her rolling in her rolling chair coming through the whisperweed.
>"....He should be coming around in the next five minutes. Get to it."
>You grunt your reply and begin searching for the special brick. Though it's a bit hard, your light source is limited and it makes it hard to point out differences in the wall's face. You place your hand against the hard wall, rubbing it across until you hopefully hit something.
"Twilight, I'm not seeing-"
>"Biblio!"
>You sigh. Your temper will catch you one of these days, but not today.
"Biblio. I can't find the bloody brick. Can't I just take some stairs?"

>"Of course not! All the old stairways into this network are closed; you'd draw too much attention if you're seen breaking those locks."
"Well, why couldn't there be a God damned lever or something?"
>"The secret behind any hidden door is a hidden switch. Levers are very conspicuous."
"Whatever. I still don't see why I personally have to be the one to- Hold on, I think I found it."
>Your palm wraps itself around the protruding brick and you pull on it, causing a heavy grinding sound.
>Backing away, you can see the light filter into the tunnels from the edges of the wall as it began to slide away. It revealed a passage of stairs that lead up into.....another door.
>Quickly you make your way up the stairs, very long stairs that carry you to the door on the surface.
"Twilight, there's a door in the way."
>You report your status as you peak through the small holes in the door. Now that you're up close you can see that it's fairly old and almost rotten through.
>"Biblio. And have you checked to see if it's unlocked?"
>Actually you didn't.
>You jiggle the knob. But it yields no results, it's possible that it may be rusted shut. Wait no, it's just locked from the inside.
>Once you unlock the door you keep your hand on the knob and place the lantern down. There's nothing to do except wait now.
"So when is he supposed to pass through? And what's the plan for taking him out?"
>You can hear Twilight hum to herself as she tries to think of an answer.
>"I don't know. Think of something."
"Are you serious?"
>"Is there a problem? You're a very creative man. I'm sure you can make some sort of plan."
"But you're supposed to be my assistance!"
>"And we've assisted you thus far. It's not our job to determine how you take out the target."
>You grumble to yourself. Twilight has an infuriating way of pissing you off. If your life wasn't on the line you would've run her through a while ago.
>"He should be there any second now. Get ready."

>Sure enough a stallion entered the alleyway. You could see him cautiously step into them  dark, checking his lefts and rights. He wore a large coat and a hat that concealed his face, as appropriate of any revolutionary. He dressed the part which was nice.
>Your heart beat increases, which is odd. You never liked the idea of killing stallions, there was just no satisfaction in it. No beauty. And yet you've become excited, as if the hunter's spirit suddenly entered your body. You slow your breath, bringing it into long drawn out inhales and exhales. You trace your touch around the handle of the revolver close to your chest and then move to your dagger.
>You shiver the second you completely wrap your grasp around the hilt and draw it. This is the moment, the exact moment when you commit yourself to your target.
>Your other hand is still on the door knob and you pull on it slightly, opening the door to reveal a sliver of the world outside. Peon draws closer, not yet noticing you.
>"Don't go for anything fancy. Make this quick and make sure nopony sees you."
>You nod, even though you're the only one in the stairwell.
>This won't be like the last time. There will be no errors and no mishaps, you are a professional.
>The stallion is merely a few feet away from the door. Your anticipation begins coiling around you, crushing your body until you can hardly take it.
>Pulling on the knob the door slides open towards you. Peon doesn't hear the silent groan of the old door, allowing you to step out freely cut him off as you walk past him. As if nothing was wrong.
>Your motions are calm and calculated. Quick and efficient.
>Peon doesn't know what hits him as you calmly glide past him, flicking your dagger across the width of his throat.
>There's a gagging sound, followed by sharp disgusting coughs as Peon grabs at his throat.
>You can practically feel the warmth of his soul flee from his body, fleeing from the physical world. Moments later he falls dead.

>You make quick work of him, moving his body back into the stairwell. Kicking his corpse down the stairs, you close the door behind you and continue after it.
"Biblio. I've taken care of our man. Nice and easy, just like you asked."
>You grab the lantern on your way down to inspect the body. You were instructed to search the body for any names that could be linked to the movement.
>"Good work. Even if we aren't successful in the second phase, at least we've taken out their ringleader."
"The mass murder in the warehouse, yes?"
>"Exactly. Though that's more of a bonus, a little extra favor for the princess."
"Hrmm... I don't do favors."
>"Hush. You'll do this one. I know you will."
>You come upon the body, a twisted and battered thing. Bruised from the trip down.
"What makes you say that?"
>"I heard you. You were excited, weren't you?"
>Twilight sounds as if she's teasing you. But she's right.
"Maybe. So?"
>You begin checking over the body. Running your hands through the pockets of its coat.
>"I thought you said there was no satisfaction in killing stallions. What happened, sudden change of heart?"
>Turning up with nothing you stand, wiping the blood from your dagger with a handkerchief.
"Perhaps. I have to admit that it was rather exciting. But the happiness is nothing compared to a mare. I could get used to this, considering the princess's little rewards."
>"Rewards?"
>You press your foot against the stallion's cheek to turn him towards the light. The same expression shared by all your victims. The same terror filled eyes, pools of tears gathering in the corners. A mouth stretched open in an eternal scream. Everything about his expression was pleasing, but...
"Biblio.... This isn't our man. This isn't Peon."
>You hear the wheels on Twilight's chair slide across the floor. Her breathing quickens as she tries to figure what went wrong.
>"That should be him. Peon always takes this route!"

"Maybe he chose a different route on his way to the rally? Or maybe he passed by earlier than expected?"
>You're a bit disappointed. You had hoped to get this done as soon as possible. And not only was the most important part of the mission still unfulfilled, you'll most likely have trek your way through even more dark tunnels.
>Twilight on the other hand is almost in a panic. You hear papers being unfolded, tossed, and strewn about.
>"Alright Lapdog. This is just a minor setback, we can still get the job down without much complication."
"Then I'm to make my way to the warehouse? That should be simple enough. What about the rest of the team? Isn't HB 1 supposed to be tailing the target? Have you heard from him?"
>You move past the the dead body and continue back down the tunnel to the intersection.
>"No. I had assumed he hadn't checked in because everything was according to plan. But now that I consider... Something may have happened."
"Think he may have been found out?"
>"That's a possibility. I doubt they'd do anything to harm him though. In the end, they're just a bunch of conspirators, no real threat."
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. When you commit yourself to a cause- especially one as shady as this- you have to be prepared to pluck a few hairs. They could be interrogating him."
>You can hear Twilight let out a long tired sigh. You're imagining her hunched over the table, rubbing her temples with her hooves.
>"Okay, we'll assume HB 1 has been captured. Lapdog, I'm giving you to Pastoral, she'll give you directions. It's a long walk so hurry."
>Though you're not entirely used to be commanded you comply instantly. It's not like she's actually ordering you though, is it? No, she's just telling you what the best course of action is. Yes, definitely.
>Before long you arrive at the intersection you were once before, but you have no idea what direction to take next.

"Ms. Pastoral, I'm at the intersection. Which path do I take?"
>There's brief sounds of "Uhhhhh" and "Hmmmm"s. Eventually Pastoral finishes calculating your path and she points you in the right direction.
"That would be the tunnel to your left. It leads into an old station, one much bigger than the platform we're stationed on. From there you'll continue down tunnel G."
>You once again nod and turn to your left. Your pace quickens until you find yourself breaking into a light jog. This entire ordeal would be a lot better if you could just use the train.
>Not much happens during your journey through the tunnels. Not that much can happen anyway. Occasionally you'd trip over a rock or railing, forcing you to spout curses at it with a vile venom. Other than that there was nothing but endless walking.
>You're starting to get bored. As you walk your start to fall deeper and deeper into the chasm of thought. Mulling over events from today, yesterday, and way before.
>You think about lots of things. Your entire situation, the events that lead to it, and her. Recently, Celestia has been on your mind more frequently. You used to fight it, but figured there's no harm in thinking of someone who literally held your life by a thread.
>All thoughts seem to fade once she makes her way into your contemplative state. Even in your mind she imposes her presence until she is all you can think about. You don't even focus on anything in particular, you just simply ponder her as a whole. You still have no idea what she is. She is a monster, yes, but she is also something more. It seems almost impossible for her to be defined so simply. You've met monsters like her, but those monsters weren't comparable at all to her. Rather, their influence, will, personality was nothing like hers. So what makes her different?
>It's quite possible you'll never find an answer. But it's fun to chase after it, even if the answer is imaginary.

>Celestia. The very name invokes powerful emotions within one's self. Like a drug the name courses through you, altering your state of being. The name inspires your ethos to undergo changes that fit perfectly within the boarders of her will. Men are not born with purpose. But in hearing this name, one feels as though he has found his calling in life. And that calling is to serve.
>But are you the same? You don't think so. After all, you won't allow yourself to become like the others, blinded by her light. You'll peer through it, see what's really beyond the bravado of her ambition and unquestionable authority.
>Is Princess Celestia the same as any other monster? Or is she different? Can a truly good and honest personality exist within the confines of her demonic workings? It may be so, for that what's dangerous about her. She believes that she is being kind. By crossing out names on her list, she believes she is preserving the people's well being. She is willing to do such terrible things all in the name of peace. A juxtaposition that would unnerve most.
>Did it scare you though? It's hard for you to say really. Sure enough you held at least some fear of Celestia as a being. But the reason escapes you, it is just a simple reaction within you whenever you're in her presence. The actual vertex of that fear is unknown.
>But while you know that fear, you also know happiness within it. As if the terror is comforting and soft. As if fear itself were a kinder force than people think. Fear watches over you, protects you, help you survive. It is but fear of death that pushes animals to survive. It is our first friend in life. So why wouldn't it be comforting? Why wouldn't Celestia bring you joy?
>You're still your own man, but as time goes on you consider the fact of finally bowing down to her. Presenting yourself as a gift to the overwhelming fear. But each time you attack the thought, casting it out of your mind like great Michael did Satan.

>"You are mine. Your body, mind, soul, all objects for my pleasure and will. You have no sense of self, there is only what I allow you to have. Your world is mine, everything you value will be replaced by what I value. You are a beast. Something to be owned and dominated. Do not ever lose sight of that."
>Celestia's words stay with you even now. They constantly echo inside you, crashing against your heart and mind like great big waves.
>Are you really her's? You claim to be your own man still, yet you can't help but wonder if you've already lost to her. Perhaps you stood no chance in fighting her; maybe you lost the very moment you met.
>You shake your head and try your best to dispel the thought. But it won't go away. It persists within you, taking root in your chest like a tiny sunflower. Soon if left unbarred and unwatched, it will bloom and completely take hold of you. It will steal your mind away from you and leave you a hallow shell full of Celestia's own intentions.
>The mark on your chest still glows a dim amber. A fire that swirls within you, reminding me that you are indeed owned by her. You are a possession and that doesn't sit well with you.
>You begin to grow angry, then sad, swelling up like a great ball of fury before deflating into a depression. This flux of emotion drains your energy, causing your eyelids to sudden feel heavy and your pulse to slow.
>This is the effect Princess Celestia has on those around her. A lingering piece of her charisma that follows you, even after leaving her sight. She's always there with you, watching and observing. Never will you escape.
>Your thought halts as you realize you've reached the large station. Four platforms aligned in neat rows, tracks dividing them. The ceiling is high, arched and supported by great pillars as wide and thick as redwoods.
>You hold the lantern high to gaze at the mural in the center of the ceiling. A brightly colored star hovering above.
>Never will you escape.

"Ms. Pastoral, I'm at the station. Which tunnel am I to take again?"
>Your voice is tired and weighed down by grief. But she doesn't seem to notice.
>"Tunnel G. It's a straight shot to the docs. Careful though, that tunnel is especially old so don't do anything that'll cause trouble."
"Right, I'll be careful."
>You moved much more slowly than before. Your quick pace slowed into a peaceful shuffle of the feet. If you could see your face, it'd probably be pale.
>But despite that you continue on. There was a job to do and you were the only one to do it. No professional leaves a task undone.
>After a long grueling walk you arrive at an old stairway leading to the surface. From below you can see that the doors are wide open, the locks busted by some adventurous young colts. Saves you the trouble of breaking the locks yourself.
>"Lapdog, there should be a door above that stairway. You'll be coming out in a fairly secluded area, so breaking those locks shouldn't attract too much attention if any."
>You nod and continue up the stairs. Emerging from the dark you stand out in the sunlight after walking such an incredible distance.
>You inhale, taking in the air around you. Dirtier than Canterlot, but with character. It's like a new wine that hasn't yet settled on your tongue.
>From where you're standing you can see the rows of warehouses that overlook the bay. Ponies are slowly trickling inside one building which you assume is the rally point.
>You begin to cast off the dread that walked in your shadow and replace it with your old self. A more excited and passionate man for murder. As you walk toward the warehouse you do your best to remain unseen, hiding along the shadows in the late afternoon and behind corners.
"Ms. Pastoral, what am I to do about HB 1? I hope you don't want me to rescue him."
>You can hear her passing the whisperweed into another's hooves and soon after Twilight speaks up.

>"Negative. Consider HB 1 as part of the target. Extracting him would just be another problem that I'm sure you don't feel like dealing with."
>You shrug in agreement. It would be easier just to take him out with the rest of them. It is his fault for being caught after all.
>"So, do you have anything planned?" Twilight asks.
>Regrettably you shake your head, as if someone was with you to see the gesture.
"I never really have a plan. It ruins the spur of the moment."
>Twilight sighs
>"Sure, whatever it takes to get the job done. But remember, nothing fancy. In and out, got it?"
"Yes, yes. I'm as anxious to get home as much as you. Walking all this way has made me tired."
>"You'll get plenty of rest when everything's complete. Now get moving, the longer you procrastinate the longer until you get to sleep."
>You can't argue with her so you move out, still staying close to the shadows. Eventually you kneel behind some crates, peering over to see two ponies standing watch by the warehouse doors. They both throw shifty eyes left and right before nodding to each other before retreating inside, closing the doors behind them.
"Well I'm not getting in from the front door.." you think to yourself.
>From behind the crate you begin to check the surrounding areas. Mostly warehouses, cranes, and water. Nothing much to work with. Then you spot the metal stairs leading up to the second floor of the warehouse. The second floor exterior is lined with long rectangle windows that have been dusted over from years of unuse. That's your best way in.
>You quickly move out, closing the gap between you and the warehouse as soon as possible. You probably look like some strange Sasquatch scurrying along the concrete ground.
>The door out front seems to be the only exit, aside from the small door on the second floor. Your first thought is to bind the main doors, two giant sliding slabs of metal with handles to do the sliding.

>You look around, searching for anything that can help. After a brief search you find some rusting chains on he side of the ware house and as you gather them you lament over the rust getting on your coat.
>Tying the chairs around the door handles you begin to think about how exactly you'll go about this. You certainly can't just slaughter them all, there were just too many. It doesn't matter how good you think you are, you'll go own within the first ten minutes. But just as before you neglect thinking of a plan and continue to wing it.
>With the front door barred you begin making your way up the exterior stairway, your boots clinking of metal as you ascend. Coming alongside one of the dusty yellow windows you peer inside. There's a makeshift stage, three ponies standing atop it. One of them the target: Mr. Peon. And the other, a captive HB 1 tied to a chair.
>HB seems to be coughing his lungs out, shaking violently back and forth between hacks. The other pony is holding a bucket and isn't saying much.
"Biblio, we were right. Looks like HB's been captured and it seems like they're interrogating him."
>"All the more reason to take him out. It could be he's already talked."
>You chuckle at that.
"You're awfully quick to cast him aside." you say somewhat accusingly.
>"I must be. When we were chosen for the job we accepted the fact that we'd be expendable. Even myself and even you."
>You let out a "Pffft" at that. To Hell with that, you're not expendable at all.
"I'll take care of him."
>You crack open the window, one of the ones that open outward instead of sliding. You can hear Mr. Peon preaching away about the injustice of the government or something or other. Whatever it is, it doesn't interest you.
>You begin to count the many multicolored ponies standing below the stage. All shifting and swaying to the revolutionary's words. You start to wonder how many places in Equestria are like this.

>"Our so called "princess" keeps everything from us. She makes our laws, mandates how we live our lives, right down to the first thought we have in the morning! Celestia and her sister are two ponies posing as gods! They steal our sense of self, our individuality! They've been dulling our minds over the centuries, attempting to make us content with their galas and jubilees. They attempt to distract us from the underlying truth of the Equestrian way of life. We live as merely cattle to them, pampered yes, but cattle all the same. What control does each of you have over your own life? None! In Equestria, under their rule, your destiny is defined by their will! Long ago, when this country was founded, it was founded on unilateralism- unity between the three tribes. But then they came, swooping down from the heavens and robbing us of our destinies! They destroyed everything Equestria stood for in that very moment! We aren't meant to be shepherded through our existence. Don't you think it's time for us to take back what's ours? Steal fire from the gods, and place the reigns of history back into our hooves!?"
>A collective nod and resounding stomping of hooves was the audience's response. They were captivated by his words, caught in a hypnotic trance induced by the passions of one being. They felt security within his ambition, assurance that things would get better if they pledge their lives to the cause.
>This isn't new, it happens all the time. One man appears in each era to challenge the current authority, a man chosen by destiny to bring about the new age and thus renewing the cycle of constant changing powers. Power is constantly changing hands, taken by those who feel their life is a poem of oppression.
>You lean against the window, listening to his words and wondering if your own heart would sway. But it does not, for no one can possible hope to sway your feelings, none except for her.

>As always the white mare worms her way into your thought, distracting you.
>You brush her influence off of you and refocus yourself. It's time to get this job over and done with.
>Like a snake you slither into the window and plant your feet on the catwalk inside. Now that you were inside you could smell oil, a lot of it too.
>A fire should do the trick. You've already sealed the only exit, aside from the door on the second floor. You'll have to do something about that later.
>You look to HB 1, still tied to the chair with his head hung in defeat. You somewhat feel sorry for him, after all he was about to die due to his mistake of being captured. That, and you don't feel like spending the effort and energy to rescue him. How unfortunate.
>You reach into your bag and thumb around for a bit until you pull out three canisters of tear gas. Something that was just laying around Twilight's little base of operations. You wonder if she even notices they're gone.
>You begin pulling the pins one by one and tossing them down to the warehouse floor, making sure to separate them by a good distance.
>Peon's speech comes to an abrupt halt as three tiny explosions go off in different areas of the large room. Panic quickly follows as gas is released into the air, making its way into them mouths, nose, and ears of the revolutionaries. The warehouse is soon host to a carnival of deadly wheezing and shouts. You watch as the lake of ponies begin to run frantically around, binding their eyes shut and vomiting.
"This is nice.." you say to yourself.
>You thumb around in your pocket for the box of matches. Below you everyone was enshrouded in a sickly mist of pain and general unpleasantness. There is also an open oil drum so conveniently placed below the catwalk on which you stand.
>Without hesitation your strike the match, your nostrils filled with the essence of flame. You can feel your body tense with anticipation as you dangle the match over the rails.

>You carefully align the burning match with the oil drum, trying to still your shaking arm.
>Without giving it much thought you drop the match and watch it plummet down below into the shifting mist and disappear into the tarry black. Then the black is nearly instantly burned away, giving rise to a brilliant blaze of red and oranges.
>The flames leap high into the air, latching onto the tear gas and then spreading across the entire room below.
>Stepping back from the rail you try and control your breathing. You have known excitement, absolute pleasure in the most horrible events. But it all did not compare to this. This is bigger and better than anything you've ever done. And to think, you're responsible for it all. A cooking pot for burning them all alive. You've really out done yourself this time.
>The flames begin to leap extremely high now, reaching up to you and causing you to sweat. So you with draw, not wanting to ruin your nice shirt with your perspiration.
>The air is much cleaner on the other side of the window, and chiller too. It's like shoving your head into a freezer after being outside in the summer sun.
>You make your way down the stairs, strolling and whistling as those on the other side burn alive. It's fantastic. Absolutely nothing thus far can compare.
>You pass by the large doors at the front of the warehouse. Loud, heavy bangs call out to the outside world. About twenty hooves all pound on the doors, begging for someone to save them. You consider it, if only to see their charred and melted faces. But you've never been one to give into such risks.
>Smoke climbs into the sky to be absorbed by the sun. Appropriate. Their lives are to be used to fuel her desire. The sun will surely shine brighter with more lives to stoke the flame.
>You trace the blades of grass in around your ear and begin to speak.

"Biblio, I'm all done here. Each and every one of them are burning alive as we speak. You may be able to hear them pound on the door."
>Twilight sighs in relief on the other end.
>"Good work. Not too shabby for your second job. Now get out of there, we don't want anypony to see you. They're probably already on their way to fight the fire."
>You nod and turn away from the burning warehouse. The smell of burning wood and flesh trailing you.
>But you are stopped when you feel something tug at your foot.
>You turn to see a charred and burned Mr. Peon Hayseed. His eyes are burning with contempt, smoke rising from his lungs and out of his mouth. His coat was now a dirty charcoal and mane nearly burned off his head. He looks comical.
>Did he see you up on the catwalk? How did he even escape?
>Your gaze looks to the second floor and you can see the door had been broken down. You silently chastise yourself.
>"You... you did this!" Peon says, his voice as dirty and polluted as the sewers.
>You nod. "Yes. I did."
"Why!?"
>You kneel down to the pony holding you in place. You somewhat want to pity him, at least you would have if he were already dead.
"It is my job."
>"Your...job? Then, you're with -her- aren't you!?"
"That's correct."
>Peon shakes his head in disbelief. You can tell he's trying to find the exact moment he went wrong. What could have tipped Celestia off?
>"Do you have any idea what you've done!? You've condemned Equestria to darkness, you've just through a wrench into the new world we're trying to build! And for what, so some false god can stay in power!?"
>You throw your head back, scanning the clouds that pass over head. You aren't really in the mood for this.
"No. I don't do it for her. I do this simply because I want to, and because it benefits me over all. It's nothing personal, I'm just following orders."
>Peon's eyes are now wide, his teeth grinding on each other like great big stones.

>"Following orders? You would intentionally compromise the fate of a people, simply because you were told to? Do you have any idea what you've done? What we're creating is a revolution for the betterment of Equestria! A uniform society in which we'll no longer be subjugated by her will. You're like us! You should be fighting along with us, not serving that damned whitch!"
>You throw your eyes down to him again, your maddened eyes staring into his. But your expression is apathetic, uncaring to his preachings.
"Your revolution has nothing to do with me. Nor does Equestria's future. So you can kindly take your pretty words and shove it."
>You stand and kick his hoof away from you.
"Consider this Mr. Peon." you say pulling on the lapels of your coat. "Even if your little revolt is successful, it's only a matter of time before your new government is faced with another from a new generation. Power is constantly changing hands, it doesn't remain in one's grasp for too long. It's inevitable. A revolution is waged to depose one government, and a moment later they themselves are being deposed. But I doubt you would have even gotten that far. She said so herself, you ponies are completely incapable of leading yourselves. Sheep aren't meant to have control of their own destiny. In the end, that's all you are. Sheep herded along the centuries, doing whatever she wills. Meeting her in person has helped me realize this. Ponies aren't at all like human beings, so they can't even hope to seek their own purpose. They can only bow to one who stands over them, someone above them. Your little movement is nothing but a farce, child's play at changing the world. She knew all along you know; what you were planning. You had no hope to begin with."
>You reach into your coat pocket and draw the revolver, aligning it between his eyes.
>"You.....YOU!"
"Goodbye."
>The hammer slams into the primer, igniting the bullet and sending it spiraling into his head, nice and clean.

>You sigh, enjoying the taste of air as it passes through your lungs. You could get used to this, killing for "the man".
>You grin as you turn away and flee the crime, just as you've always done. Behind you, flames and smoke continue to rise into the sky. The warehouse eventually collapses, crushing all inside under the hoof of Princess Celestia's will.