Too bright.

It was too bright for the night, all the lights from the city. Window lights, car lights, lamppost lights. They were going to get caught, Ryan knew it.

“Keep pushin’, lummox.”

Bruno grunted at Carlos’s order, giving the car a final heave and watched it roll silently down the bank and into the river below. Someone would find it soon; that was the whole purpose of choosing this location.

It wasn’t like the car’s inhabitant was going to complain about it anytime soon, though. Right now, he didn’t have any worries whatsoever.

Ryan was a little envious.

“Shit,” Ryan breathed. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, trying to keep from throwing up. He never liked killing; his only consolation was that it had been mercifully quick.

“Now what?” Carlos asked coldly, dusting his hands as if wiping them clean of the affair. “Don’t tell me you’re pussin’ out now.”

“… You know how I feel about these kind of jobs, Carlos.”

“I didn’t ask about your goddamn ‘feelings’.” He retorted, the same calm expression never leaving his face as he lit another cigarette. The dim glow from the ashes burned into the night sky, lost amongst the multitude of other illuminations.

“Let’s just head back, and we can-“

“What, tell Vicky that we’ve been good little boys?” Carlos spat mockingly, brows furrowing slightly. Bruno took his usual place directly behind Carlos, awaiting further orders. His own gargantuan form made the already tall and stocky Carlos look much smaller in comparison.

“But-but- I don’t-“ Ryan stuttered, confused at his sudden outburst. They’d gotten the job done, without complications and in good time.

“But-but-but-!” Carlos mocked him cruelly, imitating a puppet with his free hand, his dark eyes glaring viciously. “What, you’re saying you want to stay Vicky’s little bitch a little longer? Or are you giving me reason to doubt your loyalty? Again?”

He spoke calmly, as he always did. Regardless, Ryan still felt the shiver run up his spine. He’d seen exactly what happened to people who ever proved disloyal to Carlos Caesar. It wasn’t pretty.

“No, no! I’m loyal as shit!” Ryan said, holding up his hands defensively.

Carlos snorted, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket and glancing at it, before looking into the distance, like he could see deep into the heart of the city. He ground out the cigarette beneath his boot, and snapped his fingers once.

“Bruno – car. We’ve got work to do.”

“… Wait, what?” Ryan slipped, crossing his arms. “We got the guy,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “I thought Victor just wanted the one?”

“He did.” Carlos responded coolly as Bruno pulled the armored SUV quietly next to them.

“Then… why-?”

“I wanted to see if you were loyal.”

Ryan’s heart raced, and he clenched his fists in fury as he understood. “He- he wasn’t involved?!” he hissed in anger and confusion. “He didn’t have to di-“

Carlos crossed the distance between them like a cobra, hand flying across Ryan’s face. He staggered from the blow, backing away quickly.

“Don’t – fucking – question – me – again.” Carlos stated through clenched teeth, accentuating each word with another powerful backhand. Ryan dropped to one knee, trying to keep some composure. He felt a loose tooth knocking around in his mouth, and the all too familiar taste of copper came rushing back.

“… Get up.”

Ryan complied immediately, head down.

“If I tell you to steal, you steal. If I tell you to kill, you kill.” He grabbed Ryan by the throat, hoisting him up to a straighter posture and holding his face so that he was forced to look Carlos in the eyes. He hated looking Carlos in the eyes.

“And when I tell you to jump, then you fucking jump, and ask ‘How high, sir?’ on the way up. Do I make myself clear?”

Ryan was silent for a moment, and spat out a tooth before nodding.

“I can’t hear you.”

“… Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“… Yes sir.”

“Good boy,” Carlos said with a small, smug smile as he dropped him. “Now get in the car. We’ve got work to do.”

Working under Carlos was a lot different than working for Victor. A lot of people liked Victor. Except for Carlos. Ryan got the feeling that Victor wouldn’t be around much longer, anyway.

That night was similar to many other nights, working for Carlos. Every time, it was the same. Ryan’s only condition with Carlos was that under no circumstances were children involved. He still had some standards, and damn the consequences. The way Carlos simply stared at him when he mentioned it, though; it made him uneasy.

Ryan hated working for Carlos.

The Sharks would sometimes brag about their own exploits, their own runs for either Victor or Carlos, who was steadily gaining influence. Ryan would overhear them, each one trying to one-up another with their tales of how simple it was for them.

It wasn’t the first time Ryan felt envious. He wished he could be more like them; unfeeling, or excited at the prospect of bloodshed.

It didn’t matter what they said, though. He didn’t agree.

Killing never got any better. It never got any easier.

He only got faster at it, because he got practice.

And working under Carlos, Ryan got a LOT of practice.

Hail, Dawnbreaker.

Ryan snorted out of his reverie, twitching awake.

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

It was always a problem; shifting from his dreams to his perception of this world. Occasionally, when he dreamed, he would sometimes dream in the same fashion he saw things now.

It was always darker, however.

And it just made the nightmares seem more gruesome, somehow.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, checking out the window to find some indication of the time. It was either late at night or early morning, as the sun still hadn’t risen. He grunted in displeasure, lifting himself from the little couch and stretching. After hearing a couple of satisfying cricks in his neck, he rubbed his sore muscles and breathed heavily.

It was obvious he wasn’t going to be sleeping any more tonight.

That was fine by Ryan; he wasn’t looking forward to any more memory-laden dreams.

That, and for some reason, he kept seeing images of that black unicorn-Pegasus thing in his dreams at random. It was a little creepy.

Maybe he’d read a couple of books lying around the library. For an entire new world, they probably had something worth reading, even though Ryan rarely read anything. It was more out of boredom than anything else that spurred him to light a lamp and check the shelves. A couple of soft velvet bound books, here, one with a wooden cover, and many with odd names.

Daring Do?

It looked like something Twilight would keep around. He grinned, thinking of introducing her to the Hardy Boys if he ever got the chance. Aerodynamics And You! Nope.

The Noble Dragon Code – it looked like something a child scribbled on.

Elements of Harmony – too bland looking, forget judging a book by its cover.

He vaguely wondered what kind of book Lyra would suggest, if she ever-

”Oh, fuck!” Ryan yelped, clapping a palm loudly to his forehead. The last time he’d seen Lyra, she was with Berry Punch. He was being thrown out the door into that disturbing future vision, and never even bothered to check if she was-

“Still in the fucking bar!” Ryan groaned, slipping out the door and taking off down the cobblestone road as quickly as he could. The fwump. Fwump. Fwump. of his large feet hitting the stone bounced off the walls of the building around him, and he quickly navigated through Ponyville toward the last place he’d seen the 8-Bits.

Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t there. He promptly turned on the spot and ran toward Lyra’s home, pushing himself faster and faster.

Come on… come on…!

Ryan nearly bowled over a short brown pony with a lanky matching mane, and an image of shrubbery on his side.

“Move, asshole!” Ryan shoved him out of the way, never slowing his pace.

“Oi, the name’s Roger!” he grumbled to himself, the barreling human already turning a corner. “Oh, what sad times these are, when passing ruffians can say ‘asshole’ at will to old ponies.”

Come on… come on come on come on!

He’d worked up quite a sweat by the time he finally arrived at Lyra’s home and skidded to a halt, and pounded heavily on the thin wooden door. His large fist slammed against it over and over again, and he shouted for emphasis.

“Lyra! Lyra, are you in there?!” he yelled against the door in panic. What if she’d become trapped in that traveling hellhole? What if she’d been trapped in that demented future vision as well?

Or worse?

“Lyra! LYRA!”

“For the love of Celestia’s cake-ridden beard, shut up!”

Ryan blinked, not noticing that the door had been opened slightly. He immediately stopped pummeling the door, and found that the bottom of his fist had become red and sore from the repeated pounding.

Before him stood the same cream colored pony he’d seen around before, with the confectionary Cutie Mark.

“… Uh… Hi.” Ryan said, trying not to sound stupid as he raised his hand in a half-wave.

Bon-Bon glared at him blearily, widening the door slightly. “It’s three A.M. in the morning. If you don’t have a good reason for trying to take our new door of its hinges, I’m going to bucking murder your face off.”

Ryan tapped his forefingers together nervously, before shaking the feeling off. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by her – he refused to be. She couldn’t be half as vicious as the demon-rabbit.

“I-I never – I mean, I just…”

“Spit it out!”

“Is Lyra okay?” he spluttered, clenching and unclenching his hands as he stuck them in his pockets.

Bon-Bon stared at him for a moment, making up her mind. Eventually, she sighed and opened the door enough to allow Ryan entry. “… I couldn’t sleep, anyway. Get it. I’ll put some coffee on.”

Ryan exhaled through his nostrils, realizing that he’d been holding his breath.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said pointedly, but Bon-Bon hushed him as he closed the door behind him. She jabbed a hoof at the living room, and he found a drunken Lyra dozing happily on the sofa, one back leg dangling off it and brushing the floor. She twitched occasionally, muttering something in her sleep.

It took all of his strength not to smile at the sight.

He did, however, let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her alive and well. Bon-Bon motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table with her, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, the earth pony poured them each a small cup of hot coffee. Her bright pink and dark blue curly mane covered her face mostly, until she brushed it agitatedly out of the way and focused on her drink.

It was nearly three full cups of coffee that they’d each gone through before Bon-Bon finally spoke.

“You picked a fine time to check up on Lyra.”

“I was… uh… preoccupied.” Ryan sighed heavily, his dirty fingernails clacking annoyingly against the wooden table.

“… You left her.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Drunk. On her own.”

“Wasn’t Berry with her?” Ryan asked suddenly, trying desperately not to feel guilty about abandoning his friend.

Seriously, when the fuck did I get this guilt reflex?

…

Or friends?

“Oh, yeah. Like that was helpful,” Bon-Bon snorted, glaring at the human from across the table. “They showed up on my doorstep, Lyra’s drunk off her flank. And Berry’s not, which is shocking enough in itself. She seemed surprised, too, now that I think about it…” she trailed off, placing a hoof on her chin. “She was nearly hysterical. Said some ugly hairless chimp had slapped her rear on the way out of a bar, and then she wasn’t drunk anymore.”

Ryan paused, thinking to the other strange human he’d seen in the 8-Bits. Come to think of it, in all the confusion, Ryan had merely chalked up his sudden lack of drunkenness to being tossed into that dark future. It would seem that anyone who came into contact with that other human had the alcohol sucked out of them, or something like that. The thought made him shudder; horrifying images of an alcohol vampire, draining delicious booze from innocent revelers.

“She’s drunk now, though. I know, because she came back.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem so-“

“And then she threw up on me.”

“Oh,” Ryan said simply, not certain of how to reply.

It was quiet in the house for quite a while, with Bon-Bon silently fuming and Ryan unsure of how to avoid making things worse. So, instead of talking to her, he just sat and listened to the crickets chirping outside.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was home again.

After another stretch of silence, Ryan said “… Look. I know… I know you and Lyra are close-“

“Well, then you don’t know very much.” Bon-Bon muttered.

“Bitch, I saw the hoofcuffs.” He had to stop himself from saying ‘handcuffs’, and watched a slow blush rise in the mare’s face.

“Our own personal affairs are none of your business,” she stated sharply, glaring at him.

Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The scent of the coffee drifted warmly up to his nostrils, cut off by his fingers.

“… Look. Just… I don’t wanna fight.” He gazed over to the sleeping mint colored unicorn on the sofa, snoring softly. She giggled something in her sleep, and her hoof twitched.

Bon-Bon tried to ignore his smile, but it only served to make her angrier.

And yet, something about the way he spoke…

“… She won’t stop talking about you.”

“Whuzzat?” Ryan asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“All the time, she talks about you.” Bon-Bon looked at him with a mixture of cold loathing and… a little sadness. “Every time I talk to her, it’s like we’re not even talking anymore. It’s just hours of me listening to Lyra drone on about how amazing humans are, how much hope she has for – how much she –“

Bon-Bon seemed to have a little difficulty speaking. Before, Ryan might have chalked it up to trying to drink too much coffee at once, but by this point he knew better.

… Why can’t I ever meet women who don’t get jealous?

“… You’re kiddin’ me, right?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and relaxing with the cup of coffe.

“… Sorry?”

Ryan snorted, taking a drink. “Now you know how I feel.”

“What do you mean?”

“Christ, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say her n’ Pinks are related or somethin’.” Ryan claimed, looking Bon-Bon dead in the eye and hoping she had a poor sense of judgement.

“I mean, whenever we’re hangin’, she never shuts up about you.” It wasn’t entirely false; Lyra did talk about Bon-Bon almost every day. “All the time, it’s ‘Bon-Bon this’ and ‘Bon-Bon that’. How long you’ve been together, how you’re her only real friend – how much she trusts you, how you met. You have no idea how much you mean to her, do you?”

Bon-Bon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. Meaning that Ryan must have been correct on some level, he hoped.

“… I know what you’re goin’ through.” He said, leaning forward and propping himself up on the table with his elbows. The pony cocked an eyebrow slightly, and blinked.

“… I’m pretty sure I know what you’re goin’ through.”

Bon-Bon’s eyebrow raised slightly higher.

“… Bitch, I’m tryin’ ta’ sympathize!”

She smirked, taking a calm drink of her own slowly cooling coffee. “I’ll take your word for it.”

After a few minutes of silence, Lyra snorted in her sleep. Something about hands, or some such nonsense. They’d been talking for so long that the sun was beginning to peek up over the horizon, and Ryan could hear the soft chirp of birds. He was starting to regret not going back to sleep when he had the chance, but the sooner he got this over with, the better.

“So, uh…” Ryan cleared his throat, pouring himself and Bon-Bon more coffee. “… I made sure you n’ me both know I ain’t makin’ any moves towards Lyra. ‘Kay?”

She blinked, but nodded.

“And it’s creepy you got jealous in the first place-“

“I do not act out of jealousy!” Ryan ignored her, continuing.

“-considering the fact that, under no circumstances fuckin’ ever, will I swing that way.”

Bon-Bon stared at him for a moment, and then placed a comforting hoof on his hand.

“Oh… oh, honey… I-I’m so sorry…” she said tearfully. “I, of all ponies, should have known right from the start.”

“Damn straight, you sh-“

“I had no idea you were gay.”

“-ould hav- wait, what?”

Ryan balked at her, eyebrows furrowing angrily as his face resumed its usual scowl. “I’m not gay!”

“… Sure you’re not, honey.”

“Hey, fuck you, horse!”

“Pony.”

“Whatever! I’m not gay! I’ll fuck you right now! I mean, I won’t!” he insisted, slamming his coffee down on the table loudly. “I meant, I stick ta’ my own species! Jesus H. Christ!”

“Sure you do, honey, sure you do.” Bon-Bon agreed with him blandly, which did not help the situation in the slightest. Ryan felt a flush rising in his cheeks, and he tried to force his rage to subside. He’d gone through all the trouble of working things out with the mare; it wouldn’t do to go screwing up now.

Bon-Bon was thoughtful for a moment, and then said “Although that would explain a lot for the rumors about you and Rarity.”

“What rum – oh.” Ryan facepalmed, thinking back. Rarity had mentioned something about her younger sister spreading something about it. He made a mental note to kick her as hard as he could the next time he saw the little brat.

“Look, that wasn’t nothin’,” Ryan explained. “I probably shouldn’t have told her sister she was bein’ violated. I mean, that’s what Flutters said. No, I mean, she was there, she just wasn’t - I was just naked. I mean, Rarity was there, an’ I – what I mean is, Rarity was naked. I mean, she’s always naked, it’s just that I was naked, too, and – stop fuckin’ laughing!”

Bon-Bon was giggling hysterically, shoving her hoof into her mouth trying to stop the onslaught of chuckles as tears streamed down her muzzle.

It wasn’t helping.

She was gasping for breath, chest heaving as she strained to contain her laughter. Ryan merely glared at her, crossing his arms grumpily across his chest.

“What I mean, is… fuck, I don’t know what I mean. Why is that funny?!”

Ryan watched with a silent groan as Bon-Bon fell back into a fit of roaring laughter, pounding her hoof on the table.

The sun had risen by the time Bon-Bon had finished her laughing fit, and she was still having difficulty banishing her bountiful amounts of snickers. Ryan’s found small comfort in finding that she was no longer furious or suspicious of him.

Although this wasn’t much better.

“Izzat your sister or something?” he asked suddenly, hoping to change the subject quickly. His eyes flicked up to a small, wooden framed picture of a light grey earth pony with a long, straight black mane. Her eyes matched, and even from the picture alone they seemed… deep, somehow. It showed her carefully resting against a stringed instrument, which Ryan was pleased to recognize as a cello.

“Hm? Oh, Celestia, no. Octavia and Lyra went to the academy together; Lyra practically worships her. But, uh, don’t go letting Celestia hear that,” Bon-Bon replied with a conspiratorial wink.

“Why would lard ass care ‘bout who Lyra worships?” Ryan asked, evidently confused.

“… What?”

“Uh, Celestia. I’ve just been callin’ her ‘lard ass’.”

“No, I mean… Wow. Just… wow.” Bon-Bon breathed, eyes widening slightly as she reclined in her chair. “… Just how much do you even know about Princess Celestia?”

“She’s got an adopted black sister with a freaky dominatrix fetish.”

Bon-Bon looked torn between horror and amusement. If that was supposed to be a joke, then he had an even sicker sense of humor than Lyra did.

“… What?” Ryan blurted angrily. “She does! Have you seen the bitch with the black leather?”

Bon-Bon pinched the bridge of her nose with her hoof and let out a deep, drawn out sigh.

“… Twilight was right, you are an idiot.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Bluth flurg blurgle fmmmnurgle fur.” Ryan glanced up, seeing a half-awake Lyra slowly bumbling into the kitchen. Her mane was out of place, hair sticking up in odd places where she’d slept on it. Her eyes were nearly completely closed, and she stumbled in blearily.

And promptly smacked her face on the edge of the table.

“Burlap snorkles,” she groaned, shaking the sleep from her eyes. Lyra promptly regretted this, clutching her head tenderly. “Ooh – oh, oh ow. Sweet bucking Celestia, kill me.”

Ryan snorted, kicking his feet up on the small table in front of Bon-Bon. Seeing the glare she was giving him, he promptly dropped them back to the ground.

… Wait, why did I do that?

‘Cause she’s likely to kill you if you tried that shit again.

Shut up, brain! I didn’t ask you!

“Oh-ho, Celestia’s not going to help you now, hon.” Bon-Bon grinned as Lyra fumbled about for the coffee, moaning from her hangover.

“Here,” Ryan said, helping her with it.

“What are you, stupid?” Bon-Bon interrupted. “She’s got a hangover – hydration first, then caffeine.”

“Yeah,” Lyra slurred blearily. “What’re ya’, shtup- Ryan!” she gasped, dropping the coffee mug. It shattered on the floor, and she flinched at the noise. Her horn glowed even more brightly than her cheeks, and she quickly swept up the pieces as Ryan helped. “… What are you doing?”

“… ‘The fuck does it look like I’m doin’?” Ryan responded with a deadpan. “I’m sitting. I do that a lot.”

Bon-Bon snorted into her coffee, and if he heard the small ‘I’ll bet,’ he didn’t show it.

“That’s not – I mean – I just-“ she sputtered groggily, trying to fight through the hangover haze. “… Did you carry me here?”

“Nah, that was B-,” Ryan answered flippantly before catching himself. “… yes.” He finished slowly, giving a quick, hidden wink to Bon-Bon. “… I carried you here. Right, Bonny?”

Unsure of what he was up to, she deliberately nodded as she tried to keep a grin off of her face.

“See? You’re welcome.”

“Um… thank you, I guess.” Lyra responded with a small blush, pouring her own coffee. “Did… did I miss something?” she asked curiously, looking between the two. Bon-Bon took a deep drink from her mug, properly steeling herself for whatever Ryan was planning.

It is a commonly known law that anytime a spit-take takes place, it should never be used inappropriately or more than once, lest it become a running gag. However, it would appear that for anyone living within the same universe as Ryan Miller, everyone suffered from the same mysterious symptoms of the combined coffee related spit-take and Murphy’s Law. Murphy’s Law states that anytime something can go wrong, it will go wrong.

Ergo, the strange birth of ‘Murphy Likes It Black’, where one suffers from something going wrong any and every time they try drinking coffee. Hence the reason Starbucks would never succeed in Equestria, but that’s a story for another day.

“Nah, not much. Bonny an’ me just had a threesome with your unconscious body.”

“Again?!”

Bon-Bon’s coffee spewed with such fantastical force that it nearly knocked him directly out of his chair.

Perhaps Lyra did have a sicker sense of humor than Ryan did.

Ryan glared at the reflection in the lake’s water, as if it were somehow it’s fault.

What happened to you, man?

The still water revealed the image of Ryan, greasy slicked back hair and lightly tanned skin. His hooked nose jutted out sharply from his angry looking face, and his beady black eyes stared unblinkingly back at him. He tried to look meaner; deepening his scowl and furrowing his brows to a point, and bared his teeth.

It didn’t have quite the effect he hoped it would.

Ryan sighed, and sank to his knees in the sand.

Soft. That’s what happened. You’ve gone soft.

There was a time when he’d have laughed at his present self; how weak he seemed in comparison. The entire time he’d been in Equestria, he’d barely caused any havoc at all.

And that was with the god of chaos hitching a ride in his head.

… I’ll bounce back. Sharks swim in circles, he thought to himself. … An’ other metaphorical shit.

Peering about, he found that he was alone at the lake. This early in the morning, he might have expected fishermen or something (fisherponies?) but the area seemed to be devoid of life. Since he didn’t particularly savor the thought of trekking back to the library just to wash off the rest of the coffee (and he certainly wasn’t going back to Lyra’s with Bon-Bon still laughing at him) he shrugged his shirt off that Rarity had crafted for him. After peeling off his clothes and slipping quietly into the lake, he relaxed his muscles and slowly closed his eyes, letting the cool water lap against him.

Look out, Shark in the water, he thought with a grin, slowing his breathing and emptying his head of all thoughts. Push away the problems, just try to relax; he’d never been any good at that. Any time he tried, another one always seemed to take its place…

No. Gotta relax. He forced himself to quiet his thoughts, and only wound up clenching his muscles even tighter.

… Fuck.

He sighed, drifting about with his eyes closed. He vaguely wondered if this lake had anything dangerous in it, before pushing that thought off, too. The only thing that would make this place any more dangerous was more Pinkie Pie.

“Hiya, Rye-pye! Why’re you naked?”

Ryan thrashed around, instantly sinking beneath the crystal surface of the lake. Water flooded into his nose, and he resurfaced with a loud splash and much surprised gasping and coughing.

“Pinkie!” he yelled, reaching for his pants. Unfortunately, he discovered that he’d drifted quite a bit further from the shore than he’d previously suspected. “What the hell, man?!” Pinkie stood on the sandy shore, bouncing happily.

“Pony.”

“Whatever!” he did his best to get back to his clothing, which Pinkie Pie gladly tossed to him. “Why’d you shout at me?” he growled, turning away from her and putting his (now a little wet) clothing on self-consciously. He noticed that, as well; since winding up in Equestria, that seemed to be a problem. He just felt less comfortable about being without clothes around them. In hindsight, it was probably Rarity’s fault. And if it wasn't, he was going to continue blaming Rarity.

“Well, you looked kind of agitated. You look like that a lot when you’re sleeping!” she chirruped, hopping excitedly back and forth between her left and right hooves. “Don’tcha know the lake is a terrible napping spot? I mean, unless you’re a turtle. Or a fish. Ooh! Ooh! Or – or a sea serpent! In that case, the lake’s a great napping spot!”

Ryan groaned under his breath, slipping his shirt over his scarred abdomen. As it covered the final portion of the large inked shark’s maw on his back, a thought occurred to him.

“... Hang on…” he said, clambering out of the lake. “… You said I look agitated when I’m sleeping.”

“Yuppie-duppie-guppie!”

“You said I look like that a lot when I’m sleeping.”

“Bingo! Right on the nose!” she replied cheerfully.

“… Pinkie, just how often do you watch me sleep?”

“Every night, silly filly!”

Ryan’s face grew a little pale, and he stared at her. “… Dude,” and his voice came out in nearly a whisper. “that is fucked up.”

Then again, he did have the rare occurrence where he thought he spotted a flash of pink in the corner of his eye, only to find nothing there. She had to be some kind of super spy, or something.

He made a mental note to make sure to never mess with Pinkie Pie. She could have killed him a dozen times over by now, if she wanted to.

“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” she said, completely unaware of the fact that Ryan was slowly backing away from her. “I’ve been doing it for quite a while. I thought you were cool with it.”

“Obviously fucking not!” he said, and his voice came out in a couple pitches higher than he expected it to.

So~oft, the little voice whispered in the back of his head.

Shut up, brain!

You know, it’s not healthy to talk to yourself. I mean, it was different with Discord – at least you had an excuse for sounding crazy.

Shut up, brain!

Man, you talk to yourself a lot when you’re scared.

I do not talk to myself!

… I rest my case.

Shut up, brain!

He cleared his throat, balling his fists up and thrusting them into his pockets. Which was slightly more difficult than it was before, considering the fact that his pants were now wet.

… From the lake. Of course.

“Look, Pinks, I gotta go.” He said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder and trying to deepen his voice and restore some feeling of manliness. “I, uh…” he was glad he’d already gotten wet; Ryan wouldn’t feel too happy about Pinkie knowing he was sweating like a guilty prostitute in a confessional.

“Errands to run?” she finished sweetly for him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, mentally kicking himself simultaneously. “For, uh…”

“Rarity?”

“Yes,” he snapped his fingers immediately. “Rarity.”

“Can I help?” she asked, sidling up next to him.

“No!” he shouted, lurching away quickly. “I-I mean, it’s something she trusted me and me only with,” he lied, seeing the hurt expression on her face. “Very important. Should have done it a long time ago, actually.”

“Really?” she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yeah, really,” he said with a bit more enthusiasm. “I gotta go kick the shit out of her sist – I mean, teach her the importance of being careful about gossip and rumors. Yeah.”

Pinkie blinked at him disbelievingly, but didn’t follow when he walked away. Her eyes followed him the entire way, though.

“… Ryan?” she called after him, and looking over his shoulder, he saw that her hair had… deflated slightly. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she looked a little melancholy.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to find Sweetie Belle?” Pinkie asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, I’m goin’ ta’ find Sugar Ball, or whatever.”

“Er… the school’s that way.”

“… I knew that.” He said, turning and stomping in the other direction. He wasn’t sure which was stranger; the fact that ponies even had schools, or that the odd guilt reflex thing seemed to be acting up again.

Damn thing’s probably faulty.

Or maybe you have brain damage.

Shut up, brain!

Ryan had mostly dried by the time he found the school.

It looked like a stereotypical schoolhouse; small, wooden building with a rolling green field, a small playground next to it. He bumbled through the bushes, stomping directly toward it.

He still wasn’t quite certain how he was going to handle the situation with Sweetie Belle and the rumors she seemed to be spreading. Then again, this was technically a kid he was talking about. He could probably just walk right in, confront the teachers and demand they strap the kid to the wall with tape and have everyone throw chalk at her head. Probably.

… He hadn’t completely thought this plan out, but it felt right in his head.

Bra~ain dama~ge!

His scowl deepened, and Ryan drew closer to the building and found a multitude of the fillies running about, screaming and playing.

Ryan hated children. Couldn’t really remember much why, though.

Almost as much as he hated unicorns.

He hated unicorn children even more.

Since most of them seemed to be outside, he quietly shuffled behind a large tree and slipped up next to it. The rough bark pressed against his skin, and he quickly spotted Rarity’s younger sister with two other fillies.

Past the nearby fence, Ryan could hear a couple of them in front of one of the other fillies, which he recognized as Orange’s sister.

What was her name again? Junior, or something?

Appleblossom. That was it. Probably.

“See you at my cute-ceañera, blank flank!” the pink one with the light purple and white-striped mane called out over her shoulder as she trotted away with her grey friend, this one with a light grey mane in a ponytail.

Heh. Ponytail. I get it.

Why Appleblossom or whatever looked so upset, he couldn’t fathom. Unless they were talking to her… she did have a blank spot where other ponies had cutie marks. Even the two in front of her had the marks; one with a silver spoon, and the other with a diamond tiara.

Meaning that they probably had some kind of stupid name that went along with it.

Over time, Ryan had sort of grown to like the orange cowpony; at least, more than he did Skittles. He mentally shrugged, figuring that it couldn’t hurt to help out one kid since he was on his way to potentially ruin the day of another.

“Bump, bump, sugar lump rump!” the pair rhymed in a disgustingly practiced fashion, giggling as they did so. Ryan chose this moment to step out from behind the tree, leaning on one elbow against the fence and growling as menacingly as he could.

“Ooga-booga-boo.”

See? I can do it, too. Ooh! Even that rhymed!

… Shut up, brain.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon shrieked in terror, high pitched voices tearing into Ryan’s eardrums like a couple of needles. He resisted the urge to plug his ears, instead doing his best to look tall and mean. He even slumped forward slightly, giving his face a shadowed, sharp look.

Apple-short-filly kid’s face lit up when he did so, her grin growing wider at the fillies’ alarm. Ryan did his best not to smirk as well, watching them back away from him fearfully.

“Ya’ know,” Ryan said conversationally. “the last time I saw a couple of dumb bitches slappin’ their asses together, I was actually glad to see ‘em. Sorry – all outta dollar bills.” He held up his hands, shrugging.

Silver Spoon was the first to collect herself, Diamond Tiara looking angry for not doing it first.

“What do you want?” she spat accusingly, stepping forward. “Shouldn’t you have gone back with the rest of the monkeys by now?”

… Ohhhhh, now I remember why I hate kids.

Ryan resisted the (understandably) insane urge to pull the (slightly damp) lighter out of his pocket and light the (very obnoxious) little filly on fire.

He forced himself to widen his mouth into a friendly smile, which only came out as an evil looking leer. Tiara looked like she wanted to say something, but her mouth only opened and closed. “I’m just here to see a kid. Right, Appleblossom?”

“Apple Bloom,” she deadpanned.

“Whatever.”

“Stranger danger!”

“Goddammit.”

Author's Notes:

Coffee - both a life saving liquid and lethal plot device.