I sharpened my knife carefully. The return address on the letter that was just next to my sharpener led me to an automotive repair center. Cars were not common in Ponyville, after all I can gallop across the whole town in just under 15 minutes. I guess when somepony has an accident they need somepony to give ‘em a hoof. This time, I'm giving them more than just a hoof. It's a hoof paired with a 12 gauge flechette shell pumped out from a mossberg 500 defense shotgun.

I pulled my gloves over my hooves, and they fitted nice and tight. The way I would want them too. Rather than wear a saddlepack (for it had my cutie mark on it), I made the investment in a military grade backpack; no more ruffling to the sides I guess. I put my shotgun and the .38 Victory in the pack’s biggest rearmost pocket. The shells would go in another. I cooked something up earlier that day as well. It was in a paper bag on a taped together shell.

A traditional shell loads pellets, and a flechette loads nails. What would happen if I put some highly flammable substances on a small arrowhead and stuck it in the shell? It didn't leak, for I taped it all the way over. That would rule explosion out of the question; the last thing I want is a melted barrel... or worse.

Shotguns aren't rifled however, so I do have one worry on the topic of accuracy. I'll just need to do this in close proximity. This brought something else to my attention; I needed a plan. Well, it wasn't actually necessary, but more of a formality. It's like 'Hey motherfucka, I came to shoot your porch up and rape a bitch, and I'm all out of porch.' Guess that's the plan.

It was 10:20, only one hour before the traditional showtime. Well, to be fair, I could leave now, it's not exactly a regular hit I'm doing. That and justice doesn't wait; and neither do I. Getting up I bagged the specialty shell; I'll use that only if I need to. Putting that in a special pocket for easy access, I clipped the knife to my jacket. I also grabbed a trusty automatic lockpick of mine. Never failed me and won't fail me now.

I exited my apartment and put my balaclava on out behind the complex. Seeing as it's not 11 yet, the police are still on patrol. Walking through the alleys, I stepped on bottles, plates, and broken shit. I swear I saw at least 20 rats along the way. Then I finally made it to the building. It was a shanty two floor complex with no sign. It had a few garages in the back. Shockingly, it didn't have a guard.
I pushed my lockpick in the front door, applying pressure to the handle, which let out a small click.

click
click
click
click

The door was unlocked. I opened it gently to see the first guard. He was sitting next to the desk. Three other ponies were behind the desk and appeared to be concealing something behind them. There was another pony behind the counter, staring me down.

"What's your business here, sir?"

"Oh nothing, you're the Bloods right?"

"Are you the crypts?" He was pulling a small revolver from a drawer.

"Oh no."

"Then who are you?"

"Oh, I'm something much worse."

I pulled his head over the counter and pulled out my knife. The guards were too shocked to jump into action, giving me time to pull out my knife from under my coat and put it against his neck.

"Any one of you move and he's dead!"

They did nothing, that is until one jumped over the counter. I pressed the button and the knife ejected into the pony's neck, his blood spraying on the floor. I threw him at the three guards behind the counter. It was then I felt it. It was like a large swing... wait it was one. The guard hit me in the head again with a piece of pipe that he had behind him. The other three would be up soon, so I needed to deal with him quickly.

I grabbed his arm with my glove and pulled it around behind his back, then I pressed downwards. He was thrown to the ground, giving me the chance to grab the pipe he dropped and bludgeon him with it. Just like bludgeoning a fish, he died on the third hit. The second and third guard had jumped over the counter. One of them rushed me and I just clotheslined him with the pipe. He coughed and fell to the ground while the other one tackled me. He pinned me down on the ground and punched me in the face, and he kept doing this until I would have been knocked out.

Rather than play by his rules, I pulled out my knife and stabbed him in the hoof with it. He screamed and jumped off. I ran through my pack and grabbed my .38 special. I first turned around and shot the guard I clotheslined. He was still on the ground and whimpering, but the hollow point shell ended his pain fast. His head was torn off in one shot. I turned around to the other pony and shot him in the chest. It left a gigantic cavity in his chest, one where I could see even the inside of his rib cage.

He toppled down after a few seconds. The pony I had stabbed was gripping for his dear life by putting his hoof over the gash in his artery, but I wouldn't let him do this for much longer. I hit him in the face with the end of my handgun, effectively knocking him out and letting that sweet red blood trickle on the floor. Walking up the stairs, I must've alerted everyone in the building. I stopped halfway up and opened the cylinder of my revolver, only two shells were used and I could tell which ones. I gripped those shells and pulled them out, replacing them with two full metal jacket .38s. The next four unlucky ponies would be meeting a gruesome end. The last two would at least have a small chance.

I continued up the stairs, that is until I spotted another pony trying to run down it. He had just crossed the corner and it was then that he caught sight of me. He pointed the handgun he had in his mouth at me. So I just dealt with him quickly and shot him in the leg with my .38. This must've been hollow tip because his leg was torn off and he toppled down the stairs. At first that seemed like a good idea, that is until the body knocked me down the stairs.

As soon as I had hit the ground, I got back up and holstered my .38 and pulled out the real show stealer. The Mossberg was heavy in hoof, didn't ever have to fire it, but I already knew what it'd do (that is if it were any similar to the Mossberg 590, which is practically just a Mossberg 500 with a stock and extended barrel). I marched up the stairs, shotgun drawn. I finally went up the last step to realize that the next door was closed. It was too cliche; I already knew what was behind it. A table set up with three or four ponies behind it, armed with some form of automatic/semi-automatic weaponry.

I put the shotgun up to the door and fired the birdshot through the door. I heard the screams of a pony, and I also knew that this door was weak after that, so I bucked it down. The door broke in half and I saw one pony laying on floor. He was bleeding out with an AKM laying next to him. The Prussian Assault Rifle was a beauty. It was re-polished with a wooden stock; guess that's my next take home. I stepped forward and the next thing I heard was a shot ring out. It was so quiet it had to be a .380 APC, a .38 special round modified to fit in the chamber of a semi-auto handgun.

I rolled over and ran out towards the shooter, who wore a leather jacket just like mine. Well, time to give another pony a lesson about not cramping my style. As I jumped at him, I pumped the shotgun downwards and swung the shotgun hard into his eye on the upwards swing. He screamed and backed up. I then fired a flechette into his head. Rather than just turning to mist like a normal shell would do, his head was filled with nails and shrapnel.

He screamed and rolled on the floor. The nails were far too deep to be pulled out of his head. It was probably a good 3 inches in his skull. He then grabbed the nearest thing he could, but his hoof slipped off. I was now almost done. I heard ponies pull things up by the door behind me. So rather than be friendly and give them the chance, I fired the rest of the tube in my Mossberg into the door. Blood seeped from under it and the door fell off it's hinges. The air was stiff with powder smoke. In the room I fired lay 4 dead bodies.

Their bodies were rattled with nails and metal. Their firearms were all broken. No use picking those up. I ran through to the next room, loading the specialty shell. As soon as the next door was open, I was in a office. Then only one shot rang out... but then the firearm it came from was thrown at me. It was a heavily decorated browning high power.

"LEIF WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"

"I DON'T KNOW CORKSTER! HE'S GOING TO KILL US!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Wait, you're not a crypt?"

"No, I'm the asshole you hired to kill their founder, and consequently you as well."

They were shaking, so I decided to lighten the mood... if that's the right way to say it.

"Now, you have a safe in this room. Where is it?"

"Under the des- wait how did you know we had a safe? Much more that it was in this room?" said the one on the right the green one. If I remember his name, it was Leif.

"Well it's too cliche, you're a body shop with a paranoid owner... or owners. You probably only did that because you don't trust banks with your money. Now you there... Cork? Yes, Cork, unlock the safe now."

"But I don't know the code!"

"Lies, all lies."

I fired the specialty shell into his chest... or at least tried. Instead of firing the way I wanted it to, it sprayed fire on both of them. They were screaming in agony as they burned to death, their coats slowly charring away. Soon enough their bodies would join that char. One of them had a unique injury. Cork was pinned to the wall by the arrow. It had impaled him entirely and stuck into the wall.

I ran behind the desk and opened all the compartments. Inside all the compartments I found 2,000 bits, a bondage BDSM magazine... wait, so they were lovers? Is this romantic? No, this is just fucking disgusting. To continue that list, I also found a box of 9mm shells, I didn't need them, and the code to the safe.

I was appalled at how easy the code was. The paper read Right 4, left 2, right to 0'. Of any code, they used it to be 420. My Celestia did these ponies grow up after high school? Hell I don't even think they've been to that prison they brag about. I opened the safe and found what I needed.

Inside it was filled with 4 suitcases full of bits, but something else in it as well. A Prussian AK74M assault rifle, complete with a composite folding stock. It fired the 5.45 rifle round, not many were bought so I didn't need to worry about shortage. It had 10 boxes of the ammunition inside the safe with it. I stuffed all the boxes into my pack and folded the stock to let it fit as well. Then at the bottom I noticed something else.

There was a letter within the safe, buried deep inside

Dear Leif,
It's been many years since we've worked together. Somehow it feels like it was just yesterday. I ask yet another favor from you, I need to you spread my word to the people of Ponyville. First, however, we need Mr. Rich dead. I don't care how you do it, just get it done.
Sincerely,

Starlight.

Well, fuck.