Author's Notes:

Welcome to the, by far, longest thing I've written in my actual writing career.

The radio crackled and buzzed, with a faint sound of jazz music coming from it.

'Come fly with me, let's fly lets fly away.'

All of this guy's songs were played nowadays; it's the only station I could even get a signal from. It'd been a long year since I was fired. Armed with the excuse of 'Reckless Endangerment', they were quick to usher me out. I stood up to get a beer as the song continued.

'If you could use some exotic booze there's a bar in far Bombay!'

"What a joke," I said to nopony in particular.

I live alone of course -- only perk of this is that I don't need to trot far to hit the fridge. I was disappointed on finding what was in the fridge: three empty bottles of beer and one rotten bowl of carrot soup were all of its contents. I was out of money; no chance I'd be eating anything tonight. It was then that my weariness caught up to me. It was one AM and the light of dawn was hours from coming up in the eastern skies. I fell towards the couch and landed almost perfectly. It wasn't long until me and rest met once again.

She sat across from me, the same silver mare. Moonlight Surprise was her name. I'll remember that until the day I find one more to replace her. It seems that stallions love not with their heart, but with their eyes. We were having a typical conversation, but as soon as I was able to respond, it was done.

'You're all dressed up to go dreaming. Don't tell me you're wrong.'

It was the same stallion from every other song on that radio, Golden Tongue. Sure he was getting a bit old, but I guess he still had it in him. It's also one of the few things, besides the alcohol, that made those long nights bearable. After all, I'm just that one pony built to do somepony else's dirty work. That's just what the world had it for. You start off fighting and you end up being the same one you were out to kill.

That's the simple beauty of it: at first you think they're just monsters then, after a while, you see it in you, it'll slowly become you. Even when it is your sole job to stop them, you can be them. The real monster in this world isn't hiding in your closet, it isn't hiding under the bed; the real monster is inside you.

All of this groping and moping will not get me anywhere. I pulled myself up off the couch, hungry and malnourished. I still live in this apartment, practically unfurnished. As soon as I pulled the door open I found a letter sitting just beyond it. Stamped and sealed, on the side lay my name: Cloud Dasher.

'It's going to be one of two things' I thought to myself.

'A contract, or another bill' The thought of the latter sent more shivers down my spine.

Closing the door, I sat back down on my couch and opened the envelope. Inside rested a sheet of lined paper, folded to fit the envelope. It had to be a contract. I rushed to unfold it and suddenly something fell out. I picked it up,only revealing the item to be a 100 bit bill, fresh with Luna's face on it. I turned my attention back over to the paper; it was a contract.

"Hello Mr. Dasher," I read aloud.

"Due to the course of recent events, I need your expertise again."

I stopped there, I knew exactly who this was: Crimson Vision. Crimson always had a knack for getting on the bad sides of ponies. That's probably what he's done again. As long as he pays well, I honestly couldn't care less.

"Please, meet at the typical spot, the bar across from Sugar Cube Corner. I'll be waiting at noon."

The note then ended; Crimson never signs off. It's rare for him to do so, honestly. So I guess this was away. I walked over to the small coffee table just past my couch/bed. There lay my jacket. It was a brown jacket, made out of fake leather. It's been mine ever since I was in the PD, and it'll be mine until it doesn't fit anymore. On the other end of the room lay a small table, more like a nightstand, I got on discount. Atop said nightstand lay my knife. It was an automatic combat knife, deploying its blade from the handle forward rather than rotating. It was the ideal weapon to carry. Small enough to be clipped in the inside of my jacket, and large enough to deliver the killing blow.

Clipping it to a small flap on the interior of the jacket, nopony would ever know I carried it. I then exited my door, entered the elevator, and left the building. I was 4 miles from the location. It was then that I started running. It took me 30 minutes to reach my location, but sure enough, I could see Crystal's yellow coat and white mane in the window of the bar.

I opened the door and sat down next to him. He had noticed me and ordered a shot of scotch. It took the bartender a few seconds to get to me; some mare was ordering a stirred vodka ponytail. He dealt with her, and then dealt double to my client and I. We were regulars, so he knew we both wanted one.

"Now about this deal, what's going down?" I started.

"Well, somepony’s been watching my marefriend lately..."

"Let me guess, you want him gone?"

"Oh, dear Celestia, no! I just want him dealt with... discretely."

"Alright, fine, fine how you want it done?"

"Well, to get it going, the buck's name is 'Carmel', he's been at it for a while so he just needs a bit of roughing up."

"Well I need the money first. It's a formality for Celestia's sake you know that!"

He chuckled at that. After all, when you've been working with one stallion for 6 months you learn the ropes. Though ponies don't exactly write books on hit-pony services, he'd at least know that I needed that cash. He pulled out a money clip. On the front was a hundred dollar bill. I quickly snatched it from him.

"Hey, don't you need to do the job first?"

"I'm checking to see if you're bullshitting me. This looks like it's got twenty on the clip and there's no way you're paying me so much."

I grabbed the first bill and pulled it off; the rest were fifties.

"You know, ripping me off wouldn't be smart right? Though I’ll do it. You're lucky you're a prime client. Or I'd have you dealt with by now..."

He shuddered at the thought. I'm easily bigger than this good for nothing broad and wouldn't hesitate to sock him with swollen hooves had I not checked.

"Well, you said it'd do right?"

"How much is in the clip? Be honest this run and we won't have an issue."

"1,050 bits I swear!" I could easily hear the fear in his voice. Can't quite say I blame the stallion.

"Well, where is this creep? He'll be out of sight by dawn of tomorrow."

"Well, he lives in the old Warren district, a few blocks down from Acorn Crossing."

"Where that library was?"

"Bingo."

It was on, but I'd need to wait first. I took my shot of Scotch and walked out the door. I needed gear, and that hundred would cover it. First, though, I needed food. Luckily this meeting was just across from Sugar Cube Corner. The food at that bar is shit, but the drinks are cheap. So I crossed the not so busy street, ponies looking at me as I crossed; I stood out like a green hat with a orange bill.

I didn't return their glances; I don't want a single one of them. The last thing I need is for them to notice me. It was then that I entered Sugar Cube Corner. Behind the counter lay Pinkie. She was energetic as she always was, though I swear that chick needed some fucking meds to keep her from bouncing off the walls.

"Oh hayo! Welcome to the corner! You want cupcakes? I love cupcakes! What about pancakes? Punch? Muffins? Oh what about the Marzipan Mediterranean Marewell Mega-cake? I've been dying to give somepony a slice!"

I stopped listening; I didn't care any longer. You have to stop caring to keep your sanity around her. I just thought quickly and got the cheapest thing on the menu.

"I'll take a Griffish Muffin please." I said quickly. I didn't want to stay with her long.

"Oh are you sure? What about the Marzipan Mediterranean Marewell Mega-cake?" she said quickly. I just shrugged as she picked up my order.

She bagged it quickly and put it in her jaws, handing the bag over to me. I threw my bill down on the counter,and she looked at it with confusion.

"Big spender, huh? Then why didn't you just-"

"Oh spare me the lecture and give me my change, mare! Should I have to ask you again?"

She gave me a weak whimper and threw down the correct change. The muffin was only one bit. I scooped it into my pocket and ran out of the building. I dashed down to the fabric store (not the one in the center of town, what that chick sells is expensive as hell). It was a shanty building just outside of town, so I ate my muffin on the way there.

I dashed past the library, then I stopped. I turned around and slowly began walking back towards the wreckage of what once was the Ponyville library. Passing the 'monument' that looked uglier than modern art, I looked for the caramel fellow, or at least his cottage. It was then I looked back at the clip I had kept (for Crimson didn't actually ask for it back) and inside it was a picture of the buck. Guess he didn't ask ‘cause he wanted me to keep it.

Well, I looked at the picture of the buck, He had a full set of brown hair on a caramel colored body. His cutie mark was a set of three horse shoes. This motherfucker could've been anypony in ponyville. I walked down the street, looking for any sign or at least a cutie mark mailbox. Something I could use. Then I found it. 1428 Acorn Crossing, his home address. His cutie mark was stamped on the door to make local delivery easy. I then trotted back, being careful not to attract attention. The last thing I want is to be recognized by the same buck I'm supposed to deal with. I kept moving on at a steady pace out of town.

It took a solid 10 minutes to reach the store, but it was worth it. Truth be told the 'fabric store' really was a thrift shop. It was exactly what I needed though. A place with cheap clothes and with ponies that wouldn't ask why I needed what I got. I opened the door and went inside.It was warm, just the way I like it. Trotting on over to the headgear department, I was surrounded by caps, hats, beanies and more. What I needed, however, would take some digging. I dug in the box that said 'Wool and fabric' on it; this was where ponies normally dropped these of.

On the bottom of the box, I found it.

A black balaclava. It didn't have a mouth hole and allowed enough space for glasses. Perfect. I don't want this colt seeing anything on my face. I walked back over to the counter, and behind it was a small mare. She was a volunteer at the shop, just doing her dues to the community of course.

I slapped the balaclava down on the table.

"That's going to run you a quarter a bit sir!" she said happily. I pulled one of the bills that that Pinkie chick gave me and slapped it down. I then got 75 cents of pocket change. I put 2/3rds of it in the tip jar. Walking out of the store satisfied, I noticed a small rip on the top of the mask. It was nothing a bit of work wouldn't fix.

Just a few blocks away lies my favorite store, and unofficial supplier. 'Rock Solid Pawn and Gun' was a small pawn and gun shop just in the downtown ponyville area. They sell all that you need from combat gloves to shaving cream. I already had a pair of gloves, which were just an attachment to the hoof that allows non-unicorns to fire firearms without having to shove it in their gullet. What I needed was a little more sinister.

I opened the door and saw Rock Solid sitting behind the counter with his brother, Rock Bottom. They specialized in keeping their mouth shut if I paid for what I buy.

"Back again? What you need this time son? I'm guessing a box of 45’s?" Rock Bottom said. It was typical for me to buy ammunition here, but my job this time had little to do with death.

"Not quite, you got any baseball bats around here?"

"Not quite, why?"

"Don't ask, if you don't have a bat, then what do you have?"

"We sell firearms and firearms accessories..."

"No no no not that, I need something a little less... lethal"

"Ohhh, I gotta hammer, will that do?"

"Guess it'll have to, how much?"

"5 bits."

"New or used? Eh doesn't matter, it's a deal."

I slapped six bits down on the counter.

"Sir, I think you're overpaying."

"No, the other is for one simple request. If anyone asks, I wasn't here."

"Simple enough. Deal."

He took the whole set and came back with a small rubber mallet. But something else was in his brother's hand. Rock Solid was holding a crowbar.

"In case you need this..."

It was ominous, sure, but I guess I'd take it. After all it was in rough shape, so it would have to be worth the one bit I paid extra. putting both in a large interior pocket of my jacket, I left hastily. Now all I needed to do was wait. So I went home, turned the radio on, and sat there cleaning my new gear and fixing my mask.

The time was 11:26 PM. My balaclava blended perfectly with the night, something I'd be sure to thank Luna for. I stood there at Caramel’s door. In my down time I worked up my routine and met with my client, who gave me a picture of his mare. She was a beige pony with a good rack of blonde hair and a brown hat. She was obviously a farmer based on her cutie mark. I ran through the plan one more time. If it all went down right, it'd only take 3 minutes. If he was a fool it'd take 10. I got the courage, knocked on the door, and awaited the answer. I heard hooves on the other side.

"I'm comin, I'm comin!" he called.

He wouldn't be talking for a long time.

The knob began turning and I readied the crowbar. As soon as it was open I swung hard into his groin. He screeched and collapsed in a ball of tears as I kicked him in the ribs. Running inside and slamming the door shut, I was sure to lock it.

Beating him more and more with the crowbar, I felt each rib give in and break under the pressure. It was then the crowbar broke. I pulled the hammer out. He coughed blood as he tried to get up and retrieve something from another room. As soon as he ran, however, I swung hard into his leg. It clotheslined him and broke his leg.

He screamed in agony only for me to hit him with the hammer again. I saw the blood build up and he was barely conscious. I turned him over and stomped on his jaw, knocking all his bottom row of teeth out, then I hit him in the groin with the hammer to keep him down. Lookin’ that dickless buck dead in the eyes, he was horrified and in a ball of tears. A pool of piss lead up behind him.

I threw that mare's picture in the pool.

"If you're caught with her again, I'm coming back motherfucker. I'm not warning you."

"Who-" he began to mumble.

"Who are you?" He finally said.

"Me? I'm your worst nightmare." I said, hitting him in the face with the hammer.

He was KO'd. I picked up my blood soaked crowbar and its head, which was on the other side of the hall at the front of his house. Then I put it in my jacket, not before wiping it off on his clothes of course. Blood rusts metal after all. Then I picked up my hammer and did the same. If one cannot care for his tools he cannot care for himself.

I exited through the back door quickly. I needed to get out of here ASAP. I'm sure the neighbors heard that. So I jumped his backyard fence and rushed towards the pawn. If the fuzz is showing up I need to look like I had nothing to do with it. I used the location to my advantage and walked down the street, balaclava hanging gently out of my outside jacket pocket.

Sure that Balaclava had some blood on it, no big deal; It'd wash off easy. So I still walked down the desolate road. There were no lights in Ponyville, so I made haste by memory. As soon as I reached the door to my apartment, I noticed something was off. I felt something under my hoof. I stepped up to see what it was, and it was a letter. No ordinary letter. Another job? Maybe. It got a bit of Caramel's blood on it from my hoof, but whatever. I opened the door and found sleep awaiting me patiently at 12 AM.