The stage was set. Paladin Pineapple Turnover was in the midst of giving the stage a final inspection. The stage was an elevated square platform. Six rusty metal posts decorated the stage. Each post had a pair of shackles attached to it. The stars of the show wouldn’t have a chance of escaping. Pineapple Turnover smiled at his handiwork. Although nopony could see it beneath his metal helmet.

“Sir!”

Pineapple Turnover turned around. One of the trainees stood below the stage. He was small, thin, and thoroughly unintimidating. The trainee raised one of his hooves to his head. He was attempting to salute. Attempt being the operative word, as his other three legs wobbled below him.

“At ease,” Pineapple Turnover growled. This poor bastard wouldn’t last five minutes against the NCR.

The trainee smiled his thanks and stood on four legs. “Sir. I have a message from Paladin Lemon Tart.”

Pineapple Turnover took a moment to look at the sky. It was cloudy, of course, but it was also close to sundown. And firing squads always occurred during sundown. It didn’t matter if the executed could see the sunset or not. It was metaphorical. “She’s late.”

“Yes, sir. She apologizes for the inconvenience—”

“No, she didn’t. What’s your name, soldier?”

“Milk Tart, sir.”

Milk Tart? So this is Lemon’s brother. “You would do well, Milk Tart, to not interpret a message’s intent. Just read it.”

Milk Tart coughed. “May I be heard, sir?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Soldier.” Pineapple Turnover’s voice wasn’t loud, but its sheer authority knocked Milk Tart off his hooves. Pineapple Turnover chuckled to himself as the trainee got to his hooves. “Look. I understand your reservations. When I first met the Paladin, I was taken aback by her…-uncouth vernacular. But if you have a message for me, I need to hear the whole thing. Profanity and all.”

Milk Tart nodded. “Sir.” He produced a slip of paper from his boot, cleared his throat, and began to read. “Good news and bad news. One of our prisoners was a bug. Fucker transformed out of his bindings. Ain’t that some shit! That’s the bad news. The good news, is I’m sending my Knights your way with the not bugs. If we don’t make it in time, we can just kill ‘em tomorrow. And I’m going to be so happy when they shut the fuck up!” Milk Tart looked up from the paper. “Sir.”

Despite the contents of the message, Pineapple Turnover found himself smiling. That was actually pretty tame for Lemon Tart.

Paladin Lemon Tart trotted through the decayed streets of Vanhoover alone. She walked with her head high, and her guns fully loaded. Drops of blood littered the ground in front of her. Lemon Tart followed the blood trail, while keeping her gaze on the buildings around her.

She was currently in the old shopping district. She had just passed a store that sold sofas and quills. The fuck? On her left was a grocery store: Gran Pear’s Pearadise. She could smell the mold and the radroaches from here. On her right was what was probably a dress shop. There were mutilated mannequins and scraps of fabric all around. The sign in front was of a cream mare with pretty blue eyes. The sign read: Pommel’s Boutiqueoty. Lemon Tart rolled her eyes. Is it too much to ask for a little creativity?

She started to walk past Pommel’s, when she heard a sharp crack. Lemon Tart rounded on the building and fired a warning shot. Given that her gun was a machine gun, she really fired about ten warning shots. “I don’t know who or what the fuck you are, but you have two options. You can come out and surrender, or you can pray that I don’t fucking miss. You have to the count of three before I make your choice for you. One.” Lemon Tart paused, but there was no reply. “Two.” She paused again, but there was still no reply. “Your funeral.”

“Wait!” An ash-grey hoof shot into the air. “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.” >

“Very well.” Lemon Tart turned her gun towards the sound of the voice. It came from behind an overturned work bench. That wasn’t too far off from where she had fired earlier.

An ash-grey earth pony stepped out from behind the bench. She had brown flecks on her body and a large brown patch around her nose. She was almost cute. Too bad I’ll probably have to kill her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out earlier. I was just afraid.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of if you’re not NCR.”

The other mare shook her head. But Lemon Tart didn’t notice any other reaction. “I’m not. I’m one of Fairchild’s. I escaped last week.”

Fairchild. Lemon Tart growled the thought. He was certainly no friend to the Steel Rangers, but he wasn’t their enemy either. He allowed them access to Vanhoover’s Wartime Technology Hub so long as the Rangers returned to him anypony with a debt. That included his girls. “Name?”

“Peppermint.”

What else would it be? Lemon Tart touched a button on her helmet. “This is PLT. PLT to VHC. Do you read me VHC? Over.”

“This is Knight Caramel Apple from the VHC. I read you PLT. Over”

“I need you to run a mare through the database. Over.”

“Of course, PLT. First, I need your secure pass phrase. Over.”

“Fuck your pass phrase, I’m busy. Now hurry up. Over.”

“And…-that’s a match. Describe the mare for me please. Over.”

“Ash-grey. Brown spots, a big one on her face. Named Peppermint. Claims to be one of Fairchild’s. Over.”

“I’ll get on that, PLT. Over.”

Lemon Tart waited silently for the results of the check. She could feel her guns itching to fire. Just a few more moments, girls. Then you’ll get to make Momma proud.

“VHC to PLT. We have a match. Fairchild put out a notice for her a week ago. Over.”

That does match her story. “Thanks, VHC. PLT over and out.” Lemon Tart let go of the button. “Congratulations, Peppermint. You’re a real mare.”

Peppermint breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course I’m real. So, what happens now?”

“Now I return you to Fairchild.”

She gasped. “But you can’t!”

Lemon Tart scoffed. “I can. But if you’re that against returning, I could always shoot you.”

Peppermint eyed the guns attached to Lemon Tart’s armor. “But Mr. Fairchild will punish me if I return.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

Peppermint was silent for a moment. She darted her eyes around the room.

“There’s nowhere for you to run. And no weapon you could grab before I turned you into paste.”

Peppermint returned her focus on Lemon Tart. She chuckled awkwardly. “Oh no. I’m not looking for a weapon.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Okay, Miss….”

“You don’t need to know my name.”

Peppermint bit her lip. “Um, right. I guess not. Well, I’m ready for you to take me back.”

Peppermint took a step forward, but Lemon Tart stopped her by holding out a hoof. “One last thing. How do you kill a balefire phoenix?”

Peppermint shook her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Balefire phoenix. How would you kill one?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, right. The password! What did Mr. Fairchild tell me?” Peppermint tightly shut her eyes and pressed her hooves against her temples. “Mhmmmmmmmm—oh, right.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “You douse them in water, of course.”

Lemon Tart responded by firing twelve rounds into Peppermint’s body. Blood sprayed from the holes in her body. Peppermint staggered backwards and fell over. Her face was a mixture of shock and horror. “You knew?”

Lemon Tart snorted. “Call it a hunch.” And the fact that you said the wrong password.

Peppermint chuckled weakly, and her lips twisted into a smirk. For a split second, her body was covered in green fire. The next second, Lemon Tart was staring at a bleeding changeling.

“I didn’t know you transformed when you died.”

“Only if we want to.”

“Why would you want to die as a bug?”

“Why would you want to live as a lesser species?”

“The holes I just put in your body suggest otherwise.”

The changeling snarled, which quickly turned into coughing up blood. “You know what, pony? You changed my mind.” It was covered in fire again before transforming into….

Lemon Tart instinctively took several steps backward, as she saw the bleeding body of a pony she knew all too well.

He laughed weakly. “You know what my favorite part of turning into a pony’s loved one is?” One green hoof slowly raised and pointed towards Lemon Tart. “That face right there.” He laughed again. “And the best part is ponies never have it in them to kill ponies they love. They’re all so wea—”

Lemon Tart fired her remaining rounds into the body. Then she reloaded and fired again. “It’s easier than you think.”

The only reply she received was the low hiss of her recently fired weapon. Lemon Tart approached the body. Her fire had ripped it to shreds. But she had missed the face. That was the point. She took a second to admire how closely the bug had replicated his face. It had even got the mole behind his right ear.

She reached towards his face with one of her hooves, but she hesitated. She gazed at her boot for a moment before removing it. She looked at her yellow hoof, at his face, and then she closed her eyes. You can do it. You’re not the same Lemon Tart he once knew. You are a badass bitch. A Paladin of the Vanhoover Steel Rangers.

She opened her eyes and touched his cheek. All at once, the memories of their last night together came back to her. She remembered the feeling of his breath against her neck. The strength of his thrusts. The ferocious gaze in his eyes.

Lemon Tart flinched away and let out a small shriek. She pressed her hoof against her chest and breathed heavily through gritted her teeth. Fuck damnit, Lemon Tart, you useless cunt! She looked back at the dead body with fire in her eyes. She thrust her hoof towards his cheek. When she touched his cheek, she winced; but she did not shy away.

She stood in silence with her hoof on his cheek. She didn’t know how long she sat there. In moments like those, time had no meaning. A second could be an hour; an hour could be a day. However long she stood there, she didn’t move her hoof from his cheek. Her expression didn’t waver from one of pure disgust.

Finally, she spoke. “I swear to you, Templar. I will not spend another thought on you. You aren’t worth my time.”

She spun away from him. She nearly took a step away from him, but she didn’t. Instead, she rounded on him and slammed her hoof into his face. And she did it again. And again. And again. And again. Lemon Tart didn’t finish until Templar’s face was an unrecognizable pulp. She looked down on her hoof, dripping with blood and shards of teeth. And she smiled. “But I can’t deny that felt fucking amazing.”

Paladin Lemon Tart stood on the stage beside Paladin Pineapple Turnover. It had been almost a full day since her extermination of the rogue bug. And it was almost sunset. Three ponies were shackled to the posts. All three of them were gagged. Two of them were struggling. One of them was screaming; one of them was crying. None of them would be escaping.

At the end of the posts stood Rector Mango Soufflé. There were two ranks of Steel Rangers that didn’t wear armor. The trainees who had yet to earn the right, and Rectors who were beyond the barbarism of combat. As a result, Mango Soufflé’s body was in full display. Lemon Tart helped herself to a look while she waited for him to start the process. Despite being bright pink, he was very much a stallion.

The Rector caught Lemon Tart’s gaze. He offered her a smile. He wouldn’t be able to see her smile under the helmet, so she nodded.

“Stop flirting. We’re on duty,” Pineapple Turnover grumbled.

“Duty? Please.” She returned her focus on the three ponies in front of her. “This is pleasure.”

Two of the ponies flinched at her words. But the third just intensified his glare. Lemon Tart focused her attention on him. There were bruises all over his light blue body. Patches had been ripped away from his white mane. It made him look almost feral. The look in his brown eyes helped with that.

“It is time!” The Rector’s voice brought Lemon Tart’s attention back to him. He stepped forward until he stood in-between the Paladins and the prisoners. He turned to the prisoners and dipped his head. “Brothers and sisters. We are gathered here to commemorate your final hour. Your fate is tied to that of the sun. It will set over the horizon, just as it will set over your lives.”

He raised his head and offered the prisoners a smile. “But rejoice my brothers and sisters. For your journeys are not over yet. You are to be shepherded away from a world of pain and suffering into paradise eternal. It is our honor to be with you before you enter paradise.”

He walked towards the first pony. “Do you have any final words, my brother?” He removed the gag. The pony said nothing. All he did was sob. The Rector nodded and kissed the top of the sobbing pony’s head. "May the Princesses Celestia and Luna protect you and lead you to eternal life."

He moved on to the second pony. “Do you have any final words, my sister?”

“Of course I do! This is ludicrous!” She looked at the Paladins. “We’re all ponies. We’re not changelings. If we were, we would’ve left with that other one.”

“So?” Lemon Tart scoffed.

The mare looked as if she had been struck. “So? So, how about you don’t kill us, and we focus on the real enemy!”

Pineapple Turnover. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before taking up arms against us.”

Lemon Tart noticed Pineapple Turnover’s hooves shaking. That’s right. Passionfruit Juicehad been injured in that fight. The poor bastard.

“Because we have to defend ourselves against you self-righteous pricks!”

Lemon Tart snickered. “You know, you’re not really helping your case here.”

The mare gritted her teeth and turned away. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

The Rector kissed the top of her head. "May the Princesses Celestia and Luna protect you and lead you to eternal life." Then he moved to the final pony. “Do you have any final words, my brother?”

He removed the stallion’s gag. The stallion moved his tongue around. “You know, something? I do.” He raised his head high. “The Northern Canterlot Republic exists for the purpose of ushering in a new era of peace, prosperity, and order to the Wasteland. It doesn’t matter how many of us you kill; our determination will never falter. I can’t speak for my comrades, but I’m willing to give my life for my ideals. I don’t know what you are willing to die for, but I know—”

Lemon Tart cast a glance at Pineapple Turnover. “You know what my favorite part of this is?”

He groaned. “Go ahead and say it.”

Lemon Tart smiled. The kind of smile that would give another pony nightmares. She stared right at the speaking prison as she spoke. “Seeing the look on their faces when they realize their ideals won’t save them.”

The stallion hesitated for a moment. “Ha…-haven’t you been listening to me? I don’t need to be saved. I don’t want to be saved. Dying for the dream of the NCR is the highest honor possible.”

“Then that means you’re done wasting my time?”

He didn’t retort. He held her invisible gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m finished.”

The Rector kissed the top of his head. "May the Princesses Celestia and Luna protect you and lead you to eternal life." He turned to face the Paladins. “It is a noble honor to be the harbingers of a better life. May the Princesses Celestia and Luna bless and protect you throughout this life.”

The Paladins nodded, although Lemon Tart rolled her eyes under her armor. The Rector walked past the prisoners, the Paladins, and the posts. He stood near the edge of the stage and turned his back to the other ponies.

That’s our cue. Fucking finally. Lemon Tart aimed her guns. One of her guns was trained on the mare, while the other was on the stallion giving the speech. She barely acknowledged the mare at all. Her entire focus was on that stallion. On his eyes. She could feel her coat prickling with anticipation. He looked at Lemon Tart. His eyes, which a moment before had practically glowed with defiance, had dimmed considerably. The inevitability of his fate seemed to have dawned on him, just as the sun was about to set.

Lemon Tart snickered. There it is!

And she fired.

Author's Notes:

Hey, all! Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I last posted a chapter. I keep getting sidetracked by other projects. I want to work on Crystal Hearts, but it keeps getting the shaft. I’m hoping that actually posting something will motivate me to get a move on and start churning out chapters again. So here I go with the shortest chapter of the series by far. I’m sorry for the first chapter back being so short, but I actually like it. It does its job of introducing the climate of Vanhoover and the Steel Rangers before the other characters get there.

Other than that, I don’t think I have much else to share. I really liked season 7. “The Perfect Pear” is my favorite episode of the show, and I cried both times I watched it. I didn’t care for the movie but was glad I saw it. Here’s hoping season 8 is going to be great.

Of course. Thank you to Kkat for writing the original, to other authors for contributing to the community, and to my readers who enjoy this story. See you all in the next chapter.