Red Rum Cake #12

The legends of past as eras grow old,
Are but chapters that gather mold;
As villains and heroes mark their place,
Won’t truest history change its face?
=====[When You First Came Here]=====
>it was the second week of you getting here in Equestra, after been forcibly injected into this world by a despicable force
>you’ll never understand the motive, the reason, the purpose, or the destiny
>all you knew, after sitting on the curb of a dark street of Canterlot, the allure of nighttime holding no appeal, that you were alone as the sole human in this world, and you have no purpose to exist here
>you see the way these odd creatures stared at you, how they scorn you at first and second light
>you hold no place in this world to them, and they wait with locked doors and cold hearts for you to simply wither away and pass on
>a single streetlight illuminates this road, and you hide in the mercy of shadows, trying to calculate possibilities of any sort
>you were a hitman before, under the authority of no one but yourself, paid well to do the art of silencing
>yet what can you do now? These beings hold no interest in you, and to be frank you’re quite certain they would have nothing to do with your profession
>the royalty marveled at your existence for a couple days, but they showed little mercy beyond a few kind words and asylum
>you couldn’t blame them after all; they had no control over fate, and what it had in store for you
>yet destiny is now eager to go on vacation, leaving you to decide how to run things
> The first thing you contemplated was the easiest escape; with a fairly sharp enough object, a slice to the carotid artery would spill your entire blood within four minutes, and your death much sooner. However, you knew from the beginning you were too cowardly to stoop to such a pathetic act.
>the next best thing would be to kill until they caught you, and gave you the capital punishment, or eternal imprisonment
>perhaps spending the rest of your life fighting with burly stallions would help you atone for the years of blood that has stained your hands
>you curse this pathetic plane of existence for even existing when you realize that it was scheduled to rain tonight
>why tonight, why here?
>they have the weather conditions of most of Equestria planned out; who in their right minds would push a large cumulonimbus over the capital at night?
>they’re fucking imbeciles, every single one of them
>as you secure cover from the sudden torrent, unable to perceive any overhead pegasi, you watch a lone venturing stallion travelling the far streets
>he’s wearing a well-made coat of sorts, and you suspect he knew of the rain, yet dressed and continued his journey nonetheless
>he looked somewhat older, but he held the aura of an enthusiastic youth
>how you knew this, is but years of experience
>before you forget your age in however much time you plan to be here, you’d like to state that you are twenty one years old
>fairly green behind the ears, you’ll admit it, but you’ve killed your first person at age fourteen, and began your “work” at sixteen years old
>this is the cruel life you’ve been dragged through and suddenly in a world devoid of such heinous duties
>however, your morose internal monologue was cut short as the stallion in question traverses across the street, passing you on your stretch of the sidewalk
>he didn’t even batter an eye at you; again, you ultimately could not blame him
>however, he had bigger problems as he slips by the alley way nearby, in which he was brutally tackled by another pony
> a fierce struggle takes place in which he’s swiftly judged as the loser
>”Help, help me, please!”
>his pleading cries were soon muffled by the assailant’s hoof, which appearsto be a gruff stallion
>”Shut it, and give me your bits!”
>not even ten yards away, too easy; you silently stand up and smoothly close the distance
>the victim whimpers and begins to empty his pockets mindlessly, as the attacker chuckles triumphantly
>”Looks like I scored good tonight! Don’t you fools know not to come out at night, Fancy Pants?”
>the stallion pulls out some sort of blade to taunt the helpless pony
>ten feet, your steps are calculated, your steps making movements as soft as feathers, and the rain is muffling every move
>”Perhaps if I take that useless horn off of you, you would thank me, huh?”
>five feet, crouched now
>”A unicorn who can’t even cast magic anymore is a useless unicorn, just die!”
Shut your fucking face.
>the ruffled stallion tries to turn around to see who spoke, only to have his face grappled by two hands
Amateur.
>a smooth gesture is all that is need as you effortlessly snap his neck, slaying him in an instant
>you lift his lifeless corpse off of the frightened unicorn, who lays there in bewilderment
>the rain continues to flow through the night sky as you crouch, lightning striking through the ebony skies you he never break eye contact with the unicorn known as Fancy Pants
Are you alright?
>FP: “Please, don’t hurt me, just take my bits!”
>you give a grumbling sigh; of course he would act like this
I’m not interested in harming you; the only reason I did that was because I wasn’t going to sit there and watch a murder.
>silence ensues, as Fancy Pants regains his senses and composure
>FP: “You’re not… going to…?”
Farore, pony, pull yourself together!
>you go as far as slap the pony, which doesn’t help his fear of you ending him
>however, it seemed to have done the trick
Seriously, this race… you save one and they think you’re going to kill them.
>FP: “Well, I daresay, can you honestly blame me? A bloke like yourself just clarified you can easily take care of one of us in a second! Now, what am I supposed to say to that, hm?”
‘Thank you’ would be a fair start, don’t you think?
>the fact he forgot his own gratitude for you saving his life humbles him a bit, and he doubles back with more respect
>FS: “You’re quite right, where are my manners? Thank you, I owe you my life, it seems. What is your name?”
… Anon.
>the rain battles on, and you start to shiver from standing in the downpour
>you’re not going to make it far at this rate, especially now that you killed one of them
>FP: “Yes, well. Anon, you seem to be in a bit of a sticky pickle, considering, well…”
>he motions to the corpse; does he plan to blackmail you?
>in all honesty, he would likely win that bet in a heartbeat
>he would also lose his life just as quickly if he goes that route
>FP: “*Ahem* Anyhow, take this,”
>he pulls off his leather coat of sorts and hands it to you sheepishly
>FP: “Grab that brute, and let us hurry home, shall we?”
>you don’t know how to respond to his giddy smile, but you could see it
>the signs of malicious intent, blended with a dab of amusement
>what does this stallion have in stall for you?
>you didn’t know then, but he would change the world here as you saw it, for better and worse
>hiding the body in your arms, you obediently followed him as you made the trek that led you to the path you stand today
-----
>the lustrous manor of Fancy Pant’s was one to be reckoned, it’s luminous foyer was that of utmost beauty
>complete with gold gild and a large mural depicting of pegasi caressing the cloudy sky, you couldn’t help but wonder if you stepped into purgatory
>the judgement you laid upon yourself has been postponed by this pony, and you’ll wait for however long it takes for his intentions to be revealed
>still resting on the rug alongside him, a maid walks up to greet her late strolling master
>Maid: “Welcome back, Master F- a… a…!”
>Fancy Pants brushes off the maid’s reaction of you to the side, as if a hulking bipedal creature, drenched and dirtied, was a normal occurrence here
>FP: “Now dear, no need to be afraid; Master Anon here will be a guest here from now on, do treat him as such.”
>she gives a forced yet gracious bow in your general direction
>it’s interesting that she can’t force her eyes away from you, as if she fears you might steal her children’s souls if she breaks contact
>FP: “He and I will be getting a change of clothes, do be a sweetheart for me and prepare us some hot tea, will you?”
>she bows again and exits the hall when Fancy Pants turns towards you in a serious manner
>FP: “Mention nothing of what you heard outside, and follow me as silently as possible.”
>you give a firm nod, confused, worried, and most certainly a bit scared as you’re escorted by this most generous noble not upwards, but down;
>further down and down you go, and you find yourself in some sort of makeshift basement, although a dungeon would be a more fitting term
>FP: “The maids here never question what I do, such is the beauty of paying them so much.”
May I speak down here?
>FP: “Aha, my colt, such obedience! You may speak, but first, do put that coat over in the cabinet there.”
>you’re in a darkened room that seems seldom visited, with partitions built into the walls
>this looks horribly like a tomb room of sorts, and you let thoughts of other kinds distract you from the scene
>FP: “We’ll leave ‘that’ down here in the meantime, I’ll talk with someone to have that taken care of. Celestia knows we don’t want having that mishaps coming up later in life, correct?”
No, sir.
>FP: “Ohohoho! Don’t call me that, please! Fancy will do, or Fancy Pants if you’re eager to say it all. And I beg you, don’t be running around shouting Mr. Pants, ohohoho!”
>you smile weakly as you follow him back upstairs to the second floor
>he’s far too enthusiastic to be any sort of menacing figure, and you warm up to him slightly
>perhaps the wealthy here in Equestria are more… generous and kind than your human counterparts
-----
>after having been properly washed, dried, and dressed (they didn’t have anything in particular for you, so one of the maids whipped up a toga of sorts using a silken bedsheet, you follow Fancy Pants into what could only be described as a well-made parlor
>even fit with a fireplace with roaring embers, he invites you to take a large (and thankfully your size) seat, in which he takes one to your right
>the light and warmth of the fire is both inviting and unnerving; what have you done to deserve this, and what will you have to do to secure it?
>the maid from before comes forward with a cart, fit with a silver tray containing a pot and two cup, alongside with a bowl of assorted fruit
>Maid: “Forgive me, Master Fancy, but Master Anon appeared to be starved, and so I brought some food that hopefully will suit his tastes.”
>FP: “Good show, good show! I should have thought such a thing myself! Anon, why didn’t you let me know if you were hungry?”
I apologize, Mr. Fancy. I don’t wish to place myself as a burden on you.
>you would like to state now that you were beyond starvation at this point
>in fact, had he not taken you in, you would have likely taken that mugger and eaten his sinew raw
>it would have been unhealthy and most certainly immoral, but you have seen and done worse
>FP: “No, no! No trouble at all! I don’t know what your kind of creatures may eat, but hopefully you like fruit, hm?”
My kind are known as humans, and we’re omnivorous; rest assure, however, that I will be perfectly fine with this. If I may?
>the maid escorts herself out with satisfaction as Fancy Pants nods, and so without further ado you grab an apple and let your gluttonous teeth tear into it
>you bite as efficiently as possible, savoring both the flavor and the calories as you finish it within seconds, quickly reaching for another piece
>Fancy Pants watches with curious eyes, observing each and every movement you make as you devour the “meal”
>FP: “You most certainly have an appetite for food, Anon!”
I haven’t eaten… in a long while, thank you.
>he nods like a doting father, happy to have ensured that you’re content
>FP: “But of course. Now, then…”
>he gets up and walks over to the door, checking that no one is nearby before closing and locking it
>he’s forced to do this with hooves, despite being a unicorn
>setting himself back into the armchair, he drops the smile and give a solemn look
>FP: “I think it’s time we discuss a few things before we’re off to bed.”
-----
>you begin sipping your lukewarm tea, tasting the distinct flavors as your eyes rest upon your savior
>he concentrates, forming the words in his head carefully, before letting them hang in the air
>FP: “What do you know about unicorns… and magic?”
How open am I allowed to speak?
>FP: “Be as honest as you can be.”
Very well. I understand the basic mechanics of spell casting that a unicorn can do. I also believe that you cannot perform any magic despite the fact you are, indeed, a unicorn.
>he nods, taking this in, trying to recalculate how things should be told
>FP: “The latter statement is only partly true. I took a … darker route, one that was told to me to be able to defeat any rival unicorn, should the need arise. However…”
>he stares off into the fire, a look of disgust and longing on his face
>FP: “I had to give up the ability to cast spells to do so.”
What could possibly be worth giving up the wonders of magic that could defeat another magic user?
>FP: “I was never aware of the costs, mind… you see, this horn is now powerful enough to stop even the magic of both the princesses combined without a sweat. However, it’s true power is that it negates ALL magic it touches, which… includes my own.”
>he holds back what you could only guess to be a tear, holding his emotions in check
I see. If I may be so bold to ask-
>FP: “Oho, ask away, my dear, err, human!”
>you give a slight smile, all the meanwhile making your own calculations
>hundreds of thought in the back of your mind creating plans, subplans, plots that make no correlation at all but still absolved into will all the same
Why were you so intent on gaining such a power?
>he gradually turns towards you, his eyes glistening in… hatred?
>FP: “It is because… there is a stallion that I wished to kill.”
>oh my, and so you find that this pony has a bit of a shadier side to him than it seems
It seems you may be in trouble, Mr. Fancy. While your horn may be able to stop all spells, the most that it does is make the two of you a couple of stallions, both equal ground.
>FP: “And you’re very, very right. I have been spending nights for the past week trying to find someone who knows a cure to this, and tonight, I think I may have found an even better solution.”
And what’s that?
>FP: “Don’t be so daft, m’colt! Tis but you that I found! Tell me, the way you did that… what is your profession?”
I don’t think I should answer that.
>his twisted grin grows wider, and you suddenly feel nostalgic
>this is almost the same scenario as any other case in the past;
>a meet-up, a contract… and an assassination
>FP: “Do humor me why?”
I don’t know the pay rates here for a trained killer.
>his eyes sparkle at the last words, his teeth flickering with the flames of the fireplace
>FP: “I’ll make sure you’ll never worry about money again.”
-----
>you’re not going to spend the time describing each day for the next week, but you will credit that Fancy Pants is the kindest and most evil son of a mare that you have met here thus far
>you were fed well, treated well, and gifted most generously
>you told him the things you would need, the weapons you preferred
>they were all given to you, no questions asked
>he summoned half dozen tailors to suit you any way you see fit, and soon you’re an honorary noble of Equestria
>he takes you to showings and meeting of several other members of nobility, introducing yourself as one of their kind
>even your difference in race and culture held no match to your glossy attitude and smile
>under the persuasive mask of money with a silver tongue to boot, you’ve made your mark with this world of nobility
>this secret inner circle, with fine oiled cogs and more gears than you could imagine
>what the purpose of this greased machine is, you’ll never fully understand it; perhaps no one will, or no one will tell
>even when you met Fancy Pant’s hated rival, whom he vowed to kill so harshly, for the first time, you can’t help but notice that they were no different;
>who is to decide which to win?
>you were the paid assassin, otherwise it would have been a deadlock where they would be plotting each other’s demise for years to come
>a lit rivalry hidden under the veils of modesty and civility
>you’ll be the one to shred that blanket of serenity
-----
>it was a dreary and slightly chilly night when you entered the well build home of the target, whose name you leave anonymous for personal reasons
>it was simple; avoid the single guard, climb the frame to the second floor
>the windows lack locks, enter the hallway
>sneak into the bedroom, drop a cloth of chloroform on the wife so she stays unconscious, and with an inaudible slice, hold the stallion down as you tear his throat and arteries out
>a flawless kill, well executed thus far
>his murmured gurgles hold little effect on you as his eyes dart around for some sort of salvation
>finding none, his pupil roll into the inside of his head as shock takes over, death soon to follow
>you take the cloth to wipe the knife and check the hallway once more; the lack of maids is unnerving
>you exit via the window once more; glancing around in the shades to confirm no one saw you, you hurriedly slip away into the night, never seen or heard of again
>to this very day, you were never aware that Princess Luna caught a glimpse of your shadow as you vanished
>it was for several weeks that she questioned what she saw, and she will continue to do so until she finds irrefutable proof
>at any cost
-----
>you slip into the back door as Fancy Pants described, and just as planned you entered the basement unnoticed
>you relocate the tools on the table, the room barely lit as you try to find anything amiss
>confirming that there was no such possibility, you begin cleaning the blade as Master Fancy makes his way down
>FP: “Anon, my boy, how goes it?”
>you glance back at him to meet desperate and hopeful eyes, and you return to your work
Everything is as you wish. No one saw a thing.
>FP: “Most excellent! As promised, here is a nice little bonus for the job, and I hope you’ll stay in the meantime in case I need… other services from you.”
>you grunt as a large lump of bits slams the table beside you
Thank you.
>FP: “Nothing at all, nothing at all! That man was a most dastardly fellow, always prying his nose in unwanted places, it was needed that he was… educated.”
Mr. Fancy, what will you do about your horn, now that the reason you’ve dedicated it for is quelled?
>he looks at you nervously, unsure as to what you’re getting at
>you’re too distracted sharping a knife to pay him any mind as he tries to volley up a useless explanation
>you’re only buying time at this point
>FP: “Well, I honestly don’t know; I think it would be nice to get my magic back, don’t you think?”
I’m but a lowly human; I wouldn’t know what the joys of magic would be like.
>FP: “Ohohoho! Well, I’m afraid I can’t help with that, my friend. However, I’ll make sure that as long as you obey me,”
>that one verb was the ultimate no-no to tell an assassin, and was enough to solidify your tenacity
>FP: “I’ll make sure you’ll enjoy life as much as it gets. What do you say?”
Well, am I allowed to be honest?
>FP: “To me? But of course.”
>he didn’t see the knife slip up your sleeve, and he never will
I think that I may have to retire my services to you.
>he begins to stutter, moving closer and closer to sealing his fate
>FP: “But, my boy! I have given you everything, anything! What possible thing could you want more?!”
Respect, and dignity. Your welcome was a façade, and your interests were dark from the moment I saved you. I knew what you had planned if I refused.
>he’s within a yard of you now, shaking in frustration
>FP: “So, you knew what would happen… you’re very right. I would have called the guards on you the very moment you took off, and I don’t have half a problem in doing it-“
>he tries shoving you down, and you feint being unbalanced
>FP: “Right now!”
>he goes for a second shove, and it’d be the last thing he does as you clasp his throat and pin him down
>he tries gasping for air, just a small breath to shout and alert his maids; however, the wrenching grasp you have on his windpipe
Look at me, look at me!
>he begins gagging, looking at your for some sort of pity
>you give no mercy for the merciless
I’ll be the very last thing you’ll see.
>with that, the knife slides out into your other hand, and you stab into each of his pupils, shallow enough to ruin his retinas but not nearly enough to pierce his cerebral
>the scream that begs to come out vibrates in his larynx, demanding it’s release
>and you deny it, refusing to let him admit his distress
>he will swallow it to his death
And with that…
>you lower your head so your mouth hangs loosely over his ear
Farewell, Master Pants.
>just like the stallion he hired you to murder, he too suffered a similar fate
>as he choked on his own blood, you grasp his horn and give a ferocious twist, breaking his neck in the process
>making sure nothing of him gets on you, you take a fancied look at his now separated horn
>you’ll have to have it researched on, concealed perhaps, and with a quick cleaning you pocket it
>pressing the knife into his hoof, you know full well that the only thing stopping this from being believed a suicide is the horn
>they will never know as you slip out with your newfound wealth, and once again you take off into the night
>that was the first time you ever lost trust in a client
>end
=====
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