It all starts with a push. Waiting at home, I turned the radio off from the Jazz station, and finally got a signal from the news, or at least sort of a signal.

'And now for the public crime watch.'

The narrator's voice wasn't particularly exciting, but I did expect another 3 minutes of fame.

'We've had a spark in violent crime lately, starting with a home intrusion at 11:30 PM. Suspect broke in with a crowbar and hammer, proceeded to beat down the owner whilst spewing threats. The subject is still at large. The police are offering a 1,000 bit reward for any information on the suspect.'

Well that was short. Looks like you'd need to kill a lot of ponies to get a look on the paper today. That's how society is; I'd need a massacre to get noticed. Looking back at the list I was given, that made another point. If I were to kill this whole list, there's easily over a million bits in cash going to me, but what's more is there were a lot of ponies on this list.

That wasn't an issue for me, if I get the cash then I have no problem finishing this job once and for all. Sitting back down and listening to the evening report, which was on something about Mr. Filthy (very fitting name should I be asked about it) buying out a general auto parts company. Can't compete with a monopoly, or with a rich man hungry for more money. I guess that's how it is. Well, looking back on this, I'm hungrier than he'll ever be.

Literally: I haven't eaten anything since that muffin. Still gotta apologize to that Pinkie chick for the incident. Stress must've caught up to me I guess. After all, this job just creates more tension than anything else.

Throwing myself towards the fridge, I opened it to find the same rotten soup, but a new six pack of beer. It pays to work, and it sucks to suck. Someone's gotta eat the dirt for someone else to make the cash. Guess that's how it goes. Everywhere I go it's always the same song and dance.

Opening the first beer I could find, it was a Milhawkee's finest. At least that's what the can said. I honestly don't believe the finest would be my bar’s discount brand. Either the cheapest bar in Equestria sells the finest booze or the 'finest' was lying. Looking back over to the radio, they had spent an awful lot of time on Mr. Filthy's new accomplishment. I took a large gulp of my beer when somepony decided to knock on my door.

I put the beer on the floor next to the couch and hovered over to the door; whoever was behind it was very patient to have not knocked again. As soon as I got to the door and opened it, it revealed a different story.

"You're Cloud Dasher, right?"

"Yea. What's it to ya?"

"Princess told me you lived here, she wanted to give you this."

He handed me yet another sealed envelope. This time with the Royal Celestial Stamp on the front.

"Well is that all?"

"Well no, she also wanted me to tell you good luck."

"No need, get out."

He scurried off after that, he was no doubt one of the many royal messengers. Poor ponies who had nothing to do with their lives but polish the shoes of royalty I'd assume. Well he was sent here on a mission and got probably 20 bits in return. Still a better paycheck then what I got (and still get today actually).

Opening the envelope showed how much Princess Sparkle wanted that chick dead. It was an Equestrian Secret Service spy report on Starlight. This time, however, gave me the location of somepony I'd never seen on that list. His name was Fancy Pants. Fancy Pants was an aristocrat in the south central area of Canterlot. His job: be rich and get richer. He was a prime example of what being born in the right family meant.

I remember the buck too. One night maybe 3 years ago I was on night duty. He called in at 4 AM with a missing filly report. It wasn't given by the head so it wasn't anything too bad, we just needed to keep our eyes out for some filly who had run off. If it had come from the warren then it was real trouble, foal-napping to be exact.

I trotted to his house, walkie talkie in my glove to report back any sign of the filly. I kept moving without noticing a thing. It was then that I got to their house, around 4:10 AM, and they acted like it took me days. They were yelling all sorts of insults, as if I was being a bad officer or something. Whatever, I'm not the parent that can't keep an eye on a filly.

They gave me what he looked like, where he had last been and where he said he'd be heading. They told me that he was headed to a friends house down the road; only two blocks to be exact. Lazy assholes, can't walk fifty feet for the sake of their own son. Whatever, I just hoped this wouldn't become a wild goose chase.

I pulled my MP3 player out and put the earbuds in, the first song that came on was not my favourite but it'd do. It was Slim Shady's 'Criminal'

'Some poines ask me... Stupid fucking questions. They think that cuz I say somethin’ on record that I actually do it. Damn if you dumb enough to think that then I'll kill you! You know why? cause I am a Criminal!'

I sort of sang along with the last line, after all I could completely relate to him at that point. After all I just did get a stupid fucking question. I kept listening for 2 minutes until I finally got to the house. At least I was at my favorite line.

'windows tinted on my ride when I drive in it. So when I rob that bank I can just run out and dive in it. I'll be disguised in it. If I really cared I would be back in five minutes, after being identified by the eye witness. Then I'd kill the Private I and the 9 kittens. Fuckin puppy is lucky I ain't blastin his ass yet!'

Yea, don't want to talk to a bunch of angsty teens while listening to good rap, unlike them. They listen to Lil Payne and shit like that. Bitch's only good for bein’ doctor suess. Well, I walked up to the door of the considerably large mansion. Knocking on the door, I got a near immediate response from the parents.

"Oh Mr. Officer, please don't tell me my son is in trouble again!"

She was fucking terrified.

"No, I came to ask if you've seen Mr. Pants’ son, so have you?"

"Oh my yes I have, he's upstairs with my son. Am I in trouble?"

"May I see them?"

She let me in the house and led me up to the third floor, I could hear the Lil Payne blaring through the door. I opened the door to find the two teen ponies, both had a blunt in their mouth. Fuckin classic rich kids. They didn't know I was there yet, better take advantage of that.

"Mr. Pants, you're parents want you home NOW."

I was loud to try to get him to subdue immediately, after all marijuana only makes you dumber. Maybe I didn't think this through.

"Oh fuck! It's a cop!"

Shit, part of my job is arresting drug users. How could I have forgotten that. He ran towards me, and I pushed him back. I tried to make him just thud to the ground but something far worse happened, he flew backwards and I heard the window begin to shatter. Reacting solely off of instinct I gained from my few short years in the royal guard, I ran towards him. He was already out, and I fell with him.

Grabbing him, I pushed him towards the house. He landed safely on the second floor balcony. I, however, landed flat on my back on the hard concrete. I felt my rear left leg break, and heard at least three ribs break. The blood swooped over my head, and all over the sidewalk. I blacked out then. Still don't know what happened after. All I remember was waking up in the hospital.

"Doctor, think he needs any more morphine?"

The voice came from my right and belonged to the warren. Respectively I was happy he cared. Or so I thought.

"No, he'll be fine. Leave him in the cast for a few months, the ribs needed to be put back together though. Also, he's awake, if you need a word with him, do it now."

I was now fully conscious. I felt all the pain, and all the leather restraints on my other legs and across my neck.

"Listen, Officer Dasher, we don't have any choice."

"What do you mean?"

"What we mean is this, Mr. Pants is threatening to press charges. We need to get you out of here."

"Press charges? Their son was the one that they wanted back home! I got him there... at least I think."

"You think correctly, he had a minor cut from the glass though."

"And that's worth a lawsuit?"

"Listen, we don't have a choice. All I need to say is you're fired, and it's not my choice. By the way, here's your bonus."

He threw down a check, worth for about 600 bits. It was double my normal payment. He then walked out.

I would be back on the streets a few days after, but not with nearly enough money to live in Canterlot for much longer. I found that apartment in Ponyville and have been there ever since.

I woke back up from my trance then, looking at the picture of the stallion and his fancy double bar mustache. He hadn't changed one bit. The price next to his name on the paper was massive: 30,500 bits for him to be dead. It had another note next to it as well. On the paper Twilight wrote something personally to me.

'Sent you this to start you off on the right hoof. Fancy is a big supplier and funder of Starlight. He might know some other ponies that aren't on the list.'

It was on. Revenge is a bitch.

It was then I heard something slide; it came from the door. It was actually coming from under the door. It was a bulky envelope. This one had to be a contract other than this fancy pants jerk. I opened the envelope to get a very distressed handwritten letter.

'Dear, Mr. Slasher' I stopped immediately. This pony must've just heard of me.

'We, I am speaking on behalf of me and my fellow members, need a job done. We found that you were apt to do that. Mr. Filthy has been founding a rival of ours. We are the Bloods. Filthy is giving money to the Crypts, and I will not tolerate it. Kill him and you can take whatever you like in that motherfucka's house.
Sincerely,
The Bloods'

I never wanted to work with a gang, but someone as rich as filthy would mean a lot of money. Perhaps I could give a return address and deal with these low life's after I'm done. I'm sure they have enough to spice up my life. Getting the gear back together, I decided I may need something a bit... different for this job. I threw the broken crowbar out and kept the hammer, this time for utility purposes rather than leg breaking.

Clipping my knife, this will certainly see some action tonight, for I'm willing to bet that someone as rich as him has got some guards; I'm also willing to bet they're Crypts. Well I guess that's a win-win.

Grabbing my wallet, or should I say money clip with 950 bits on it, I walked on over to the pawn. It was bright out today, roughly eighty degrees. What could go wrong? So I trotted down to the south end, balaclava still hanging out from the side pocket of my jacket. When I arrived on location, it was 1 PM sharp. I walked in the door to find that only Rock Bottom was there.

"Where's Solid?"

"Oh, he's out with a sickness, nothing major."

"What a shame. Say, I got another job. And the crowbar broke by the way."

"Well it was in rough shape, so what do you need?"

"I need a Prussian Issued Nagant Revolver, suppressor and stock included."

Bottom reached under the shelf, looking for the right revolver. He had all types of weapons down there, Smith and Weston 500s, .44 mags, .357 mags, taped up Saturday Night Specials for only 70 bucks, but on the end of the shelf was the one I wanted.

"She's a Nagant 1895 revolver, built to fire the 7.62x25mm, she's easy to compare to a .38 super used by our Griffish neighbors. It is an internal cartridge so that we can keep all the gas inside that we can. She's also the only revolver that can be suppressed do to its unique firing operation. She's 400 with attachments and pure leather holster. Sure you want it or would you like somethin’ else? She's just a bit old, that's all."

"Lets see what else you have. I'm looking for something that I can carry even after this."

"Well, lookin’ for something small or big?"

"Medium, Glocks would do me nicely but they're expensive."

"Well, we have a solution."

He pulled a handgun out from under the rack, which looked like it was chambered in .38 shells, which is a nice round.

"This is the Taurus M85S .38 special revolver. She'll do for now, and she's cheap too. So just use it and sell it back, or better yet keep it for yourself. She's a 6-shot revolver that is so small she could fit on your hoof. Now she's also built to be used by both glove and mouth, so if you are ever caught off guard she'll do you well. There's so many of ‘em nobody would even know it's gone."

"How much?"

"She's 200."

"I'll take the M85."

I flipped out 2 100 bit bills on the desk, he signed no paperwork. He knew what I was using it for and didn't want any part of it (other than the money). We said our goodbyes, and I went on the march towards the house. I stopped by Pinkie’s, apologized (which she accepted) and got that cake she wanted me to eat all so bad. I needed something to wash down with the beer I left at home.

As soon as I had gotten home, I put down the cake and began to eat and drink. I needed to wait until 11:30 to do the job.

The cake was almost gone by the time 11:20 rolled around, so I got my weapon and loaded a chamber of .38s. I grabbed my hammer and knife, along with a few other goodies I had picked up that could make life a bit easier and marched on.

Since the last crime, the police have been on a scouting period later on at night, though I doubt they take it seriously. Ponyville is a laid back city, that is unless you were near the princess's castle. In that case you can't take a step without finding at least one policepony. So I walked quickly until I got to my destination.

When I was there I saw a mansion of considerable size: 5 floors, long on all ends, fountain out front but most useful, a gigantic master bedroom on the middle room at the top floor. Those aren't what caught my eye. What grabbed my attention was that there was a booth just outside the gate, and it was manned by a well awake security pony.

'This shouldn't be too hard, I have a plan anyway. Just move in and take him down quietly. Then I can move around and continue as it should.' I thought to myself.

I walked by the dark end of the booth, which was a blind spot of his. The pony inside was smoking a cigarette, giving me all the more of a reason to end his life early. I felt the urge to shoot him, but it just wasn't worth the sound. I pulled in a small black saddle pack I had taken with me to find a plastic bag I got. I then knocked gently on the door.

Being him, he walked out with a gun drawn. It's another .38, so I might as well grab it for ammo (and use if it's better than the one I got). As soon as he exited all the way, I slammed the bag over his head, kicked him in the groin whilst turning him around, and tied the bag shut. I threw him in the bush while I heard him struggle for his life. He would suffocate to death soon and no longer be an issue.

I used that moment to press the button that controlled the security cameras. There were hundreds. Rather than locate them all and cut the wires like my plan originally was, I just shut them all off from there. Why wasn't that my plan from the start? After they were all down I heard something coming from behind the booth. No doubt another guard.

This time she spoke.

"Silver Horizon? You alright? I heard something over here and was wondering if you're okay."

She cannot live. Only problem that I have is not being able to knock her out of breath through usual methods. She was then crossing towards the door. I pulled my next object out; it was the broken glass from a bottle I had in my fridge. I put tape over it while I was there so it wouldn't cut my mouth.

On that note I put it firmly in my mouth and waited for her. She then walked through the door, giving me my chance. I rushed towards her and stabbed her straight in the eye. It was all too quick for her to scream. I punched her in the jaw two times, and she was down. I pulled the shard out and stabbed it into her neck. It broke then, so I decided to leave it in her. Pushing her body in the corner locker of the room proved to be good for hiding her body. Outta sight, outta mind.

Trotting out of there way to nonchalantly, I waltzed over to the other guard. His back was turned, and he was wearing a similar balaclava that I was. Irony is a bitch. Well this is for cramping my style.

I then had thrust my leg into his back, throwing him to the ground. I then got on him and grabbed a nearby rock. Hitting him repeatedly with the rock, his brains slowly leaked out of his head. I kept on it until the grass was red with blood. I then dragged him over behind a tree. The last thing I wanted is a passerby seeing a dead body and calling the cops.

I then continued with my plan, the guards dealt with. I moved towards the phone line; I didn't want to give this buck a chance at grabbing help. Approaching it I pulled my knife out and opened it. Then I cut the wire that led to the phone... and the one to the water heater. Cause fuck yo heata, bitch.

I stepped towards the basement window. Rather than just being a window, to me it was a entrance. I broke it with my hammer, the glass shattering on impact; didn't look like anypony heard. I stepped in hoof first on the glass. Luckily I was wearing boots, or that wouldn't have ended well. I used my left hoof to reach into my bag. I had my glove on so I could actually grab things with the mechanical fingers on them. I finally grasped the next weapon on my list, a piece of string. And not just any string, but a pocket saw.

I couldn't risk bumping into a guard with my firearm; if I shot them, that would just lead to issues. Issues I'd much rather not have. Because they're issues, that's all I needed to know to understand I'd be castrated and hung for what I've done already. Walking towards a door, I opened it and was greeted by darkness... again. I turned on an L shaped flashlight I had attached to the armband of my saddlepack. It was then that I saw a small strongbox. It probably had some money in it, so I just picked it up and dropped it in my bags.

Walking further down revealed animal heads of all types. From Cockatrisses to dragons, he was a hunter. I swear I saw a buffalo down there; does that make him a murderer? Or does it mean he supports genocide? Eh, whatever. Still going to kill him no matter what he believes.

I kept moving towards the stairs that rested on the other end of the room. The stairs had a different color on their walls. The walls in the basement itself was a greenish color, but the stairs was a dark red, blood red. I walked up them, and the wall was covered in images. Some of his daughter, his wife, and a few of him. I kept moving till I got to the top stair, but then I heard voices.

"Hey, this is where we heard that window right?"

"Yea, I'm pretty sure it was from the basement. Filthy demanded we check it out."

I ran over and hid where the door would stop. Or just beyond it so they could fully extend it. This was not successful. The door opened outwards, just revealing your neighborhood home intruder with a pocket saw ready. We exchanged our glances for a few seconds, then their eyes went down to my jacket. I looked down to see some blood on my collar.

"Oh yes: that. I'm very messy when I work you see. It's one of those jobs."

Rather than stay and chat, they swung a bat at me. I dodged and hit the swinger in the groin with a solid upper cut. Then the other was just stunned, so I grabbed him by the throat and began to saw; it didn't take long to get through the windpipe. When I did blood poured through the veins on his neck.

"You son of a bitch!" the other said as he ran at me.

I moved out of the way, and he flew down the stairs. As soon as he started to fall I pushed him further down. As he rolled I heard a snap and he grew unresponsive. His neck dangled the wrong way as it was caught in the stair's safety bar.

"Have a nice flight, asshole," I said, walking up to the next flight of stairs.

I kept moving up, and there were no guards. The next floor, however, confirmed different. A guard was about to move down the stairs, probably investigating the sounds down below. The pony’s breath made her sound feminine, so I could tell it was a mare. I put a nail down on the last stair. It was something I originally brought in case Filthy was less than compliant with me. Well, it has a better use now.

She stepped on it and right when she was about to scream I got to work with the saw. Cutting her windpipe was easier than the last. Blood poured down the stairs from her arteries. I kept moving, knowing that Filthy slept on the top floor from examining the building earlier.
I kept moving, and there was one guard outside of Filthy's door. I had to quickly dispose of him, so I wrapped the wire around his neck and pulled inwards, effectively cutting the windpipe. I then softly opened the door to see Mr. Rich, terrified at what he heard. Staring at me.

"Whatever you came for, you can just take it! Just leave me and my family alone!"

Under his arm was his daughter, and behind him was his wife.

"Oh, it's fine, really. I just need a few questions answered."

"Whatever you want! Just don't hurt us!"

"Alright, what does the name Starlight mean to you?" I said, pulling the .38 out from the pack.

"Nothing, I have never heard of her!"

I could see it was a lie. I shot his leg. The filly ran to the other room as he collapsed.

"I'm sorry son, but I'm going to need to ask you again. What is your connection to Starlight?"

"I fund her. She needed money. Kid, I know you like money, how about 1,000,000 bits if you leave now?"

It was a lie. I kicked him in the face into the window, which cracked against his head. Blood soaked where he was. His wife ran after his daughter.

"Who else funded her?"

"Fancy, Fancy funded him."

Tell me something I don't fucking know.

I grabbed my hammer and walked to the room his wife ran. It was a fancy bathroom. She screamed as I put my hoofs on her legs and dragged her into his main room. I noticed the filly was cowering in the tub but I'm not touching her unless it comes to it.

"How much does your wife cost you?"

"You motherfucker! Lay a hoof on her and you'll fucking regret it!" he screamed.

"Not an answer." I broke her leg with the hammer.

It was then that he reached under the desk to his right and pulled out a Colt 1911 A1. He fired two shots but I ducked and felt them fly over my head.

"You know, gunplay ain't nice."

I pulled my .38 out and shot his wife in the stomach. I then pushed her back in the bathroom as I heard every tear and scream. I turned back to him and shot him twice in the chest. He would die later that night. Well, I can't let the filly live. She looked like a spoiled bitch anyway. And I guess I don't need that saw anymore, it's going to rust soon...

After doing that deed I decided I needed to at least wash my face. After going over to the sink I put the water on it's hottest setting. I put my hoofs in and... it was cold. Fuck.

When the police arrived that morning, they saw a gruesome sight. But the one that caught their eye wasn't the beheaded thugs, or the guards. Oh no, it was the beheaded filly, hanging by her legs from the top floor. They never found who did it. They blamed it on a gang raid though.

That same morning, I washed the blood off of my hooves while I listened to Golden Tongue singing “Come Fly With Me.” I already listened to the report on the Rich massacre. I'd report later and pick my money up.

Author's Notes:

Well now THAT'S a chapter. Lets face it, I don't think they'll be missed. By the way if anyone is wondering the knife Dasher carries is a Microtech Halo V. It's a pretty good carry knife from my experience with it, just check the law where you are before lookin into one. Well I'm puttin it in full swing now.