Romance and the Fate of Equestria

Chapter Forty-Nine

A catfish poked around in the muck near the shore. It sniffed at a strange, fleshy object, then lunged, wrapping its mouth around it.

The fish was promptly lifted out of the water by the hoof it had just attempted to swallow, and was brought up to the eye level of a chocolate-brown mare with a stringy dirty-blond mane that covered half of one yellow eye and all of the other.

"Hey," she said calmly. "I'm Skippmud."

The fish flailed helplessly.

"Relax, I'm not gonna eat you," Skippmud said. "I'd like to… believe me, there's nothing I'd like better. And I've eaten a lot of your kind before. But… it's the funniest thing, it's almost as if I'm a pony, and my body is only able to digest plant matter. Crazy, huh?"

She set the fish down on the ground, where it sat limply, gasping and staring at her.

"I've been noodling as far back as I can remember," Skippmud said, pacing back and forth. "It was my favorite thing in the world. It still is. But let me ask you a philosophical question, fish: what kind of cruel universe would make such a useless skill my destiny?"

She displayed the slimy green catfish that was her cutie mark. "How is catching catfish supposed to get me through my life? I can't sell catfish, not when all the civilized races in the world are naturally vegetarian. It's a great hobby and everything, but come on! I want to do something real and useful with my life!

"That's why I went to law school. Cheap catfish-related jokes notwithstanding, I always felt I had an aptitude for provoking sympathy, implying innocence. After all, I managed to get through to graduation without making anypony suspect that I was a wanted fugitive in that very country. But every day, for all those years, it was there in the back of my head: You should be fishing. You shouldn't be here, you should be fishing. And the front of my head had to tell it no… NO I SHOULDN'T!" she raged. "It's a hobby, not a destiny! I was put on this earth to accomplish great and grandiose things, not to spend my life mucking around with filthy creatures like you! And yet… agh, when I'm down here by the water, waiting for one of you to jump out and bite me… that's the only time I truly feel alive. Because… because according to my body and my brain, that's my true purpose."

She bent down and smiled at the fish. "Isn't that just maddening? Let that be a lesson to you: destiny sucks. Come here a minute…"

Skippmud picked up the catfish and started carrying it back to the water. "When you show up late to wherever it is you were going, tell 'em Skippmud caught you," she said. "And that's 'Skippmud' with two P's." She gently placed the fish back into the stream and watched it dart away.

"But only one D!" she called after it. "I know it sounds arbitrary, but it's totally not!"

She sighed and turned her back on the stream, planning to head off into the leafy forest where she had made camp. Vorpal Blade, armed with his seven wings, six fake horns, and three gem-encrusted pins, blocked her path.

"Hey, Skipp," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, good," she said casually. "I caught one. So, you know…" She started past him, but he held out his huge blue wing to block her path.

Skippmud scowled. "I could just go around your other side, you know. You've only got the one big one…"

"Skippmud, don't treat me like an idiot," Vorpal Blade said softly. "The entire reason we're a team in the first place is because we all know the agony of saying no to one's cutie mark. Catching one fish isn't going to meet your needs. Go catch some more. For your own mental health, buddy. I worry about you."

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the water anyway. "Okay, okay… you're right. You're always right, you old bastard."

"You know, you never wear your Mecha," Vorpal Blade noted. "Why is that? You could catch a ton of fish with magic. I'd pay to see that."

Skippmud chuckled. "Hey, I know it's a big cliché that everypony wants to be a unicorn, but let me tell ya: it's just not true. There's a certain pleasure that can only come from doing stuff with your own two hooves."

"Oh, I don't know that I'd say that," Crazyface said. The white pegasus dropped from the sky with his horn and pin in place. "I can destroy things so much more utterly with my horn! I've been zapping the hell out of these trees. And with my earth pony pin, I can feel their suffering and pain! Glorious. You haven't lived until you've heard a tree scream, it's exquisite."

He removed the horn and pin and looked at Vorpal Blade in concern. "Then again, the Mecha is a real strain on my mind and body. I have to take it off every now and again and let myself rest. Now you… you wear so much of it, and you never take yours off, not even to sleep. That must be exhausting."

"Yes, yes it is," Vorpal Blade admitted. "But… I can't take it off. I just can't. I'll become strong enough to deal with it sooner or later." He looked between his two companions. "I… I'm not the same Vorpal Blade I was when we started this scheme. If I take off my Mecha, I'll… I feel like I'll go back to being Snicker-Snack."

Skippmud snorted. "Well, you've changed, you got that right. You've started romanticizing everything. You never did that before. Come on, it's hardware, not your identity. That Twilight girl really got to you, didn't she?"

Vorpal Blade blinked slowly. "Well, yes. I thought that was understood."

A silence hung over them for a moment.

"VB, can I ask you a personal question?" Crazyface said quietly.

"Of course, brother."

"Right. Well, first let me make sure I have all my facts straight," Crazyface said. "The whole 'Snicker-Snack' deception was created for the purpose of meeting a mare, getting her to fall in love with you, and then revealing your true self so that she would come to hate you, thereby fueling your newly-acquired 'power of hate'. Have I got it right so far?"

Vorpal Blade nodded.

"And then you happened upon Twilight Sparkle," Crazyface went on. "A source that could get us closer to the castle, naïve and highly in touch with her emotions, actively searching for the wonders of love, plus you'd been a fanboy of hers for years and could correctly predict her responses to you. She was perfect."

"Yes, she is," Vorpal Blade whispered.

"He means for the plan, numb-nuts," Skippmud sneered. "She was perfect for the plan."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Right. Of course that's what you meant. Go on."

"Well, that does lead right up to my question," Crazyface said. "The plan was executed to perfection, and yet… you've said a few times that you actually were in love with her."

"I was. And I am."

Crazyface nodded, his brow furrowed. "Well, I just don't get that, VB. Why would you fall in love with her, knowing all the while that the whole point of getting with her was to betray her?"

"Well, it's not like it was a decision I made, Crazyface," Vorpal Blade said sadly. "If I could decide whether or not to fall in love, they wouldn't call it 'falling' in love, now would they?"

"Ugh," Skippmud scoffed. "Dude, I love you to death, but that's pathetic."

"I just feel it could've been prevented somehow," Crazyface pondered, staring hard at the ground. "I just… I think if I was going to fall in love, I would not do so with a pony I was actively planning to discard. I just assumed you of all ponies had enough foresight to avoid that, I suppose."

"Yes, I see," Vorpal Blade said irritably.

"You know, just somepony I could conceivably be with for a substantial portion of my life," Crazyface said. "It wouldn't just be about a filly who'd still be attractive as she got older, but one who'd still be the same pony I first fell in love with as years went by. One who would deserve and appreciate the wondrous treatment she'd get under our regime."

Vorpal Blade smiled. "Now, see, Crazyface, you wonder why we laugh at you when you say you're a sociopath. That's not the kind of stuff a sociopath thinks about."

Crazyface shrugged. "Yes, so you've said. I'm not quite convinced."

"Well, let me ask you this: what would you do if Skipp and I were to suddenly drop dead?"

Crazyface looked shocked. "Well, I… I suppose I'd… cry? And then just wander around aimlessly for the rest of… eternity, I guess. I'd have nowhere to go without you two. No reason to exist."

"There ya go, good man," Skippmud said, nodding cheerfully. "You come up with that just now under pressure? Assuming, generously, that you're not just telling us what we want to hear, that's a solid piece of progress."

"No… no, I don't think that's what I was doing," Crazyface said uneasily. "But come on, I was evaluated as a colt by several doctors, and they all—"

"Yeah, 'cause they were doctors, finding something wrong with you was their job," Skippmud sneered. "But come on, look at what they had to work with. All the colts at school were picking on you, so you killed them. That's not sociopathy, that's an inspiration to shy and quiet kids everywhere. And look how you turned out! Not the slightest bit shy or quiet, just an assertive, cackling master thief that the pubescent fillies can't get enough of."

Crazyface grinned. "Oh, Skippmud, that's terribly sweet of you to say."

"You're damn right," Skippmud said seriously. "On top of that, you've got the brain guy over here on your team. If he says you're not a sociopath, shouldn't you take his word for it?"

Crazyface looked at Vorpal Blade uncertainly. "Yes, well, that's all very kind, but it doesn't really answer my question."

"Your question," Vorpal Blade repeated. "Which was… what again?"

"Twilight," Crazyface said simply, staring hard. "A little assurance that you're aware that you shouldn't have fallen for her would be nice."

"Okay, I see where you're going with this," Skippmud interrupted. "You're concerned about Veeb's loyalties being in the right place. Well, don't worry about it. Yes, he fell in love with the mark; it happens. The important thing is, when it came time to choose between her and us, he chose us. That should put an end to any questions. The chick's out of his life now, she never has to be our problem again." She looked to Vorpal Blade, who was standing at the bank of the stream and watching the sunset. "And you made the right choice, didn't you Veeb?"

"…Yes, absolutely," Vorpal Blade said slowly. "We've all been together much too long for me to turn against you for some half-assed scam relationship. As I hope I've demonstrated already, I wouldn't sacrifice what the three of us have for the world."

The trio went silent for a few minutes.

"So, what are our current plans?" Crazyface finally asked.

"I haven't gotten any word yet," Vorpal Blade said quietly. "For the time being, I guess we try to steal as much stuff as we can around, ah, here. Every little scrap of treasure helps, as we've always known. But, um, be forewarned: I'm not going to be brainwashing anyone into never wanting to catch us. Never again. It's how we've done things for years, yes, but I feel like I need to start at least pretending that I'm more principled than our… benefactor."

"I completely understand," Skippmud said graciously. "It's been so long since we had an actual challenge. Not counting Canterlot, of course. I can't wait to get started. Where are we, anyway?"

"Um…" Vorpal Blade said carefully. "In a small forested area in the western region of the continent just across the eastern sea from Equestria."

He braced himself as Skippmud charged at him and got in his face. "You saying we're in griffon country?" she said dangerously.

"I was going out of my way not to say that, actually," Vorpal Blade said dryly.

"You brought me into griffon country?" Skippmud snarled. "How dare you! You think I'm going to just let you—"

"What other choice did I have?" Vorpal Blade said, raising his voice. "It had to be someplace located close outside Equestria. Would you rather I took us to an ocean? Or the arctic? One of two inhospitable deserts, maybe? It was here or dragon lands, and considering we're lugging around the six largest and tastiest gems in the world, this was overall the better option." He summoned up the six huge crown jewels, floating them over his head. "Please don't question my tactical decisions, Skipp. You know I only do what's best for us."

Skippmud glared. "Why didn't we just put the crown jewels in our stockpile like we do with every-friggin'-thing else?"

"Because our stockpile is impossible to find, and I want it to remain that way," Vorpal Blade said. "The crown jewels have a powerful aura of magic which is only being masked by our presence. If I left them unsupervised, then every two-bit dragon, demon, and monster within a hundred miles would start going straight for them. Finding our hoard would be only too easy, and they wouldn't stop at just taking the crown jewels; they'd take all the rest of our stuff too. You know how many years I've been adding treasure to that pile? I think you do. Do you know how many billions are tucked away in there? I don't, but it's a lot, and putting the crown jewels in there with the rest of it would make it all for nothing."

Skippmud's lips pursed thoughtfully. "So, in essence… we'll be stealing from griffons without wiping our involvement from their minds. Which probably means that, for our own security, we'd have to kill some of them in their own homes. Okay, I'm on board with that."

"Knew you would be," Vorpal Blade said appreciatively.

"I still don't know why you hate griffons so much, Skippmud," Crazyface interjected. "I mean, I know why, but I don't understand it. I used to openly pray for my family to be torn apart and eaten by… I don't know. Something."

"You and I had very different family lives, Crazyface," Skippmud said simply. "For starters, I actually liked my family."

"Hmm, well, I can see how that would make a difference."

Vorpal Blade turned away again, his ghostly eyes looking up at the jewels as he made them orbit around his head.

"Hey, Vorpal Blade?" Skippmud said.

"Yeah?"

"Listen, I know that this isn't the life you would've picked out for us," she said, "but I think you make a good 'chosen one'."

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Crazyface agreed.

"Thanks, that means a lot," he mumbled. He turned back to them. "It… it really does, you know? And it'll pay off for us. So I'm not really complaining. It feels good, being the chosen one. It genuinely feels good."

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Endnotes

In the immortal words of Bart Simpson's chalkboard, "I will not celebrate meaningless milestones."

Except that I totally will. This story has just entered the elite club of stories over 100,000 words! Yeah, baby, yeah! And only 89,000 of those words are in author rants like this one. Heh.