Pravitas smirked as he strolled through the back alleys of the large earth pony settlement that some idiot had named 'Manehatten' of all things. It seemed that he had missed quite a lot in his self-imposed exile, the streets were lit by strange 'electric' lights that made the night as bright as the day, the buildings were built far higher than would be possible under the methods of construction he was familiar with and the number of ponies wandering the streets spoke of a population density far, far beyond what was possible in his time.

Of course none of this was unexpected. Earth ponies had always tried to find non-magical solutions to their problems, it helped them pretend that they were less dependant on their betters than they actually were. Of course they would come up with some new non-magical method of lighting their city, the earth pony settlements of his time were lit with oil lanterns, despite magelights being far cheaper, more reliable and less likely to poison the air with smoke.

And ponies seemed to have this perverse desire to be near as many of their own kind as was physically possible. Pravitas shuddered, at least these ponies had had the foresight to build a proper sewer system, the city stank enough without the faeces of a million ponies thrown into the streets.

So much had changed, but ponies, ponies never changed. It had been trivial to find his way to what ponies called the 'bad' part of town – the only honest part of town, free from the hypocritical facade of compassion, of 'goodness' ponies presented to the world – he only needed to ask the locals where he should avoid.

After all, wherever there was ponies, there was suffering. That suffering inevitably covered up and hidden where it could fester without disturbing any 'good' ponies' sensibilities.

The 'electric' lights that had dotted most of the city seemed mostly absent here, leaving the street in a choking darkness, not that that hindered Pravitas in the slightest. The stone that composed the roads in most of the city had been replaced by simple dirt, while the buildings had steadily become increasingly rundown. More and more glass windows shattered or covered with iron bars or wooden boards – he supposed that the glassblowers of this era must be incredibly wealthy indeed – while the naked 'concrete' – as he had heard the strange not-stone was called – buildings showed the fruit of neglect.

He paused, placing his hoof on a deep crack in one of the buildings as he followed it with his eyes to the third story. He idly wondered how long it would be before the entire side of the building would come crashing down? How many ponies would die when it inevitably did?

He smiled an shook his head and continued deeper.

He took a deep breath, underneath the taint of ponies there was the distinct scent of despair, of hopelessness. Pathetic, he would take his own life before he would let himself be reduced to such a state. He took another breath and he detected something new, the scent of rotting flesh and faeces, the scent of death.

He continued forward and found the source of the scent. Surprisingly, it was not a corpse but a living pony, albeit barely.

The mare-who-stank-of-death's eyes were open but uncomprehending, as her body shook. Futilely trying to fight off the rot that was consuming her body from the inside out. Pravitas was certain she would not live much longer without the medical assistance that nopony had cared enough to give to her. Hypocrites.

He placed a hoof on her. She had a very strong fever, he was hardly a healer, but he doubted even this era's medicine could prevent her from being addle-minded, if it could save her life at all.

He petted the mare's mane, “Worry not, Hopeless Worm. Thy suffering is at an end, Death hast come for thee.” He placed one forehoof on her muzzle and another on the back of her head. With a quick violent twist resulting in a satisfying crack, the deed was done.

As he continued, he passed many more of the Hopeless, albeit none as far-gone as the mare. Some, emaciated from hunger, others seemingly deep under the influence of unfamiliar intoxicants, yet others seemingly healthy but completely succumbed to the wages of despair. For all of the supposed 'compassion' of ponies, they pretend the Hopeless don't exist. They let them suffer and die, while they laugh and sing.

“Oi, pretty boy pegasus, don' ya know this's the turf o' the Street Rats?”

Pravitas turned to find five mares – three earth ponies, a pegasus and a unicorn – standing in vague formation behind him.

“Woof, ya ain't act'ally pretty at all, are ya. Now drop ya coin, an' I won' stab ya.” The unicorn levitated a rusted kitchen knife to his face.

“Good one, boss.” The earth pony standing in front and to the left of the unicorn stated.

“Yeah, good one.” Said the second earth pony standing to the front right.

“Street Rats? An interesting thing to call yourselves.”

“Oi, wha' ya say? I only heard 'I'm a bitch an' wanna be stabbed'” The knife bounced up and down right in front of the stallion. “Now drop ya coin, I won' tell ya again.”

“How do you know I even have any 'coin' to give you.”

“'Cause I ain't seen ya before, so ya not from 'ere. So ya rich. An' ya talk like a rich pony, too.”

“Impeccable logic my dear mare, however there's just one problem.”

“An' tha' is?

“Well it is the rather simple problem of you being d̶̢͔̱̠͈̠̘͕͛̋̐́̄͊̅̐̎̏͝͠͝ͅe̵̝̔ͅą̶̺̣̱̥̩̗͎͉͐́ḑ̷̢̛͎͔͈̱̻̯̺͚̲̭̰̩̟͚̩̅̊̑̀͋̀̔͌̐̔̾̃̕̚ͅ.[”

The knife dropped with a clatter as the unicorn mare suddenly fell lifeless to the ground.

The four other mares' eyes widened in fear and horror, “I'm sorry sir, we didn' mean teh unconvince ya.” The pegasus said, “We jus' so hungry, a mare needs teh eat.”

“Oh, you're ḥ̷̡̢̛͇͙̗̰̰̣̹̜̏̈́̐̓̇́̾͆̔͑͋̓͛͜͠͝͝u̶͔̺͉͙̺̫͚̱̽̈́͂͐͠͠ͅn̷̰̉̀͋̈́̈́̾͐̊͑͠ͅg̷̡̛̳̱͈̯̈́͂͗͒̒̈́͝͝͝ŕ̶̡̩̻̘̫͈̿̃̑͌̑͠͝y̵̺̖̼̲̭̫̤͈̪͋̔̓̇̄͊͑̽̒͊͆̚̚͘͝͝ are you? Why didn't you just say so, that's easy to fix. Why don't you just ę̷̝͖̙̌͌̅̾ä̷̧̳͍̫̺̙̻̰͉͚̣̹̻́͛̒̄̿̒͝ͅt̷̡̨̛̛̺͙̳̰͈͙̻͙̬̰͑́̽̊̅͂͊͒͐͒̈́͂̕͜ͅ?” Pravitas gestured harshly to the corpse of the unicorn.

Pravitas smiled as the three mares tore into and consumed their former leader. It is rather interesting just how capable of consuming and digesting flesh the supposedly herbivorous ponies are.

Pravitas turned to glance at the fifth and final mare, the earth pony who had not spoken a word in the entire exchange was frozen in horror.

The mare noticed his gaze and broke her paralysis, galloping away as fast as she physically could.

Some ponies are just too weak to accept his blessings. It was a shame, but Que Sera Sera.

After all, the weak just exist to feed the strong, perhaps more literally than usual in this particular occasion, Pravitas chuckled to himself at his own little joke.

---

A strange unicorn mare – wearing a massive pink fedora and holding a walkie-talkie in each forehoof – sat at a table just outside The Hayburger^® cafe in central Ponyville. Completely unnoticed by the customers of the establishment.

“I have eyes on the target, I say again, I have eyes on the target. Over.” she spoke into the radio in her left hoof

“Do you have a positive identification? Over.” She replied to her right.

“Orange fur, green mane, carrot cutie mark, it is clearly Carrotus Topicus. Over.”

“What is the target doing? Over.”

“The target appears to be shopping for groceries. Over.”

“Well keep an eye out the target ...”

Burn Notice was cut off by a mare deciding to sit in her lap, not even noticing the seat was occupied.

Burn Notice threw the mare off of her.

The mare hit the ground and looked around, confused what had happened.

Burn Notice quickly cast a compulsion on the mare to seek seating elsewhere, missing Carrot Top's quick glance at the fallen mare in her distraction.

Burn Notice sighed, “Ugh, you're supposed to be some kind of super-assassin, why are you so boring?”

Nopony responded, because nopony heard her.

If she didn't know what to look for, Burn Notice would have thought that Carrot Top was nothing more than just another earth pony farmer in a town full of way too many earth pony farmers. But she did know better, and she noticed all the small little things. How the mare would quickly size up every pony she saw, seemingly like she was secretly planning on how best to kill them (which, almost certainly, was exactly what she was doing), or how she would always glance around any space she entered planning for any fight that may break out in the next five minutes.

Then there were the more concerning signs, like the brief moment of focus the earth pony demonstrated every time she touched produce (earth pony magic was a staggeringly poorly understood field, but Burn Notice would bet ten thousand bits that whatever the mare was doing would tell her of the presence of any poisons) or the seven letters the mare mailed today (and likely mailed every day) despite having not a single friend or confident, either within the sisterhood or outside it.

Burn Notice sighed, she would need to find out where those letters were going before moving on the mare. The last thing she needed was a clean 'accidental' death followed by a dump of sensitive documents by a postal dead-mare's switch.

“Know this Carrot Top, your days are numbered, I have never failed a job and you won't be the first. I look forward to your death ...” Burn Notice got up and tipped her oversized hat in the direction of the departing mare, “... Mi'lady."

Next Chapter: Chapter 17 - United Once Again? Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 16 Minutes