Pinkamena Diane Pie, or Pinkie Pie as she is more commonly known by her extensive network of peers who totally know who she is, sits cross legged on a floor in the late hours of the night, wearing her favorite outfit: pink shoes, dark pink skirt and a pink, sleeveless shirt that has three balloons stitched on the front. She also has cozy blue and yellow stripped knee high socks. But outfits aside, the floor that Pinkie Pie is sitting on is not just a normal floor, but it is a rather comfortable floor that belongs to a gem shop in the quaint town of Ponyville.

For Pinkie Pie, her love for the shop is only bested by two other places. The Cake's Bakery and Partytropolis, both of which are closed at the moment. But for the late nights such as now, Pinkie Pie enjoys the welcoming environment of bright lights, displayed gems of various shapes, sizes and colors, all of which are locked behind thick glass and overseen by a sweet old man. There is one thing that Pinkie Pie loves doing in this particular shop, and that is sitting in the corner, reading a weapon's magazine and listening to the dreamy voice of her musical crush on her Walkman.

Pinkie Pie hums along to the rest of the lyrics, bobbing her head and turning the pages on the latest issue of Guys, Guns and More Guns. She stops and whistles as she turns the magazine longways, letting the folded paper expand to show off a titan of a man with big arms and tight abs sensually licking the barrel of a rifle as tall as he with a massive drum and a scope the size of his biceps. He is also wearing a speedo that shamelessly displays a good sized bulge.

Pinkie Pie grins and blinks a couple of times. “Yeah, you're definitely going in the memory books.”

Then she feels someone tap on her shoulder and she turns slightly to see a man in a suit and pony mask holding a gun at her and motioning her to take off her headphones. She slides the bulbous things off, letting her pink, puffy hair pop out, and the music to flow freely into what she just now realizes is a very tense atmosphere.

“Yes?” says Pinkie Pie.

“Put your hands in the air,” says the man.

“Why?”

“Because we're robbing this place.”

Pinkie Pie blinks again and looks past his shoulder to see five more guys in suits with pony masks being led by another man who is not disguised. He is wearing a gray blazer, striped brown pants, a gold tie and has only one glove, which has sharp fingertips. He also has a long, gray goatee and spiky head of gray hair that is not meant for people who are in their midlife crisis stage. Which is what he appears to be in. She also notices that while the others are carrying small machine guns, he has a cane.

Pinkie Pie blinks again and looks at the man pointing the gun at her.

“Why?” she asks.

“Why what?” says the robber.

“Why are you robbing this place?”

“Because we can. Duh.”

“Duh?”

“Duh.”

“Duh?”

“Duh.”

“Duh?”

“Duh!”

“Oh. Duh.”

“Yes. Duh!”

“I see.”

Then with a a quick flick of her wrists the hammer she has been so casually resting on her lap is twirled with the head pressing against the floor at an angle, and then she pushes one little button on the handle. The handle extends at breakneck speeds, hitting the crook in the gut with the orb bottom and launching him into the ceiling. His back breaks the ceiling tile and pops loose the lighting fixtures, sending debris, glass and sparks raining down on the shop owner and the gang. The group screams and swears and dives for cover, and the victim of Pinkie Pie's attack has a hard landing when he falls and bounces off the reinforced counter top, body twitching and covered in insulation and broken tile.

With sparks falling and lights hanging from the ceiling, Pinkie Pie stands up with the help of her hammer and spins on her heels to face the general area of the remaining thugs, leaving a nasty hole in the floor behind her. Seconds later the criminals gradually poke their heads out, one at a time, like man-sized, pony-prairie dogs. The last one to poke his head out is the man with the mismatched clothing, and he looks at the fallen thug, and then at Pinkie Pie. She, in turn, twirls her hammer before aiming it at them with a massive grin.

“Hey there,” she says.

“Did you do that?” says Mismatch.

“I did.”

“Huh. Nice. But, anyway.” He points at his thugs and then at Pinkie Pie. “Kill her until she dies.”

Five guns are pointed at Pinkie Pie in an instant, but even though she is meeting those barrels with a smile, inside she is screaming. That inner screaming comes out as a nervous chuckle, and she drums her sweaty fingers against her hammer's handle with more trailing down her neck with every pump of her heart.

“Yeah. Not good,” says Pinkie Pie through her teeth.

She spots one of the crooks starting pull on his trigger, and she leaps off to the side, sliding on the ground as the bullets fly, deafening her and clouding the atmosphere with shredded paper, splinters and sparks. Magazines fall and destroyed displays crumble, and Pinkie Pie spins to sit on her rump and she flicks down a gun grip and trigger, and pulls down another grip further down. She then presses a smiley face button on the trigger grip and the hammer head parts ways to reveal a barrel, glowing blue and whirring from a spinning ball of energy inside.

A pair of crooks come into view with their weapons raised, but when they see the glowing ball in Pinkie's hammer-cannon, their eyes bulge to dinner plate sizes. This she only knows because she can see it, and before they can so much as take a step they are blasted away.

The blue ball decimates the floor and flings the crooks away, smoking and sparking with the remains of floorboards and carpet. One thug hits a rack and takes it to the ground with him, and the other spirals in the air, head over feet and face plants a wall. Upside down. He slides down with a human shaped crack in the wall.

With that, more bullets fly and Pinkie Pie keeps her head down as she runs across the store, feeling an odd sense of fear and excitement with her rushing blood and stupid giggles. The shooters lose track of her, but it does not stop them from making a carpet of spent shells and decorating the wall with hundreds of new holes. Much to Pinkie Pie's relief, they all run out of bullets at roughly the same time, if the trio of clicks and clacks are any indication.

Pinkie Pie takes cover behind a counter, shaking and biting her tongue in an honorable effort to keep herself from laughing her position away. It is the most fun she has had in a while, and the potential of being shot to death has nothing to do with her trembles and crazy energy or racing heart.

When Pinkie Pie pokes her head around the corner, she sees the last three thugs standing in a circle, eyeballing the smoky, sparking surrounding as they eject their empty clips.

“Yo, Biff! Gimme more ammo!” says one thug.

The one named Biff checks himself, then looks at the one that talked to him.

“Yeah, I forgot the ammo,” he says.

“What?” says the third thug.

The first thug growls. “Damn it, Biff. You had one job, and you blew it.”

“I don't blow things, Chief. Things blow me,” says Biff.

And then Biff is blown out the window by Pinkie Pie's cannon. The two thugs and Pinkie Pie watch him roll and bounce across the street with a trail of glass from the now nonexistent window, coming to a stop when he hits a car. The car alarm goes off and the two remaining criminals look at Pinkie Pie, and she looks back at them, grinning wolfishly.

“Okay, who's next?” says Pinkie Pie.

The two look at each other, nod, and then adjust their grips on their weapons to sprout blades from the grips, trailing well past the barrels, and after quick, fancy hand work, the rifle stocks are morphed into blade handles with a gem battery glowing on the side. The two pull the triggers of their weapons and their blades vibrate and hum with sparks of red dancing around them, and Pinkie Pie's eye twitches with a smile longer on her face.

The two spread out, keeping their hands on their hilts and blades aimed at Pinkie Pie, and she steps back just as slow as their steps, eyes and hammer darting between them. Her mouth goes dry and her knees and hands quiver as more sweat wets her neck, forehead and palms.

Three heart beat loudly with squeaking and sparking of loose fixtures, and the elderly shop keepers barely pokes his head out to see what is going on. Debris is crunched underneath their footwear, and when the remaining criminals brace themselves, Pinkie Pie's muscles tighten and her breath is sucked away.

And then they charge.

From outside no one can see much of anything in the shop. They can see flashes of blue light, hear screams, thumps, explosions, and objects breaking on top of pained grunts and swears. Shadows of humans and rubble flicker in and out of view, and after a particularly loud scream and explosion, the wall to the gem shop is reduced to splinters and broken brick that is flung across the quiet street in a fiery, blue smoke. With the rubble comes the remaining crooks, flying or skidding across the road, smoking in torn up suits and masks. When they stop, Pinkie Pie staggers out of the gaping hole, teeth grinding and chest heaving from her panting and body covered in sweat, grime and blood. Her outfit is torn in spots, her puffy hair is clumped and sagging, and her hammer's blue glow is dim.

Somewhere a dog barks, and Pinkie Pie collapses on her knees, using the hammer for support as she grips a slash on her arm. She looks up seconds later, sucking in the cool night air and sees Mismatch standing on the roof of a not so far off building, staring at her with a massive case on his back and a bottle of chocolate milk in his hand.

She narrows her eyes and stands up with a groan, and she looks over her shoulder at the shop keeper, who is standing in the middle of a crater with all of the rubble pushed against the wall, jaw to the floor and eyes devoid of life. Not too far from him, a piece of the wall and ceiling crumbles into a heap, but the shop keeper makes no reaction whereas Pinkie Pie winces and meekly jabs a thumb towards Mismatch.

“Will you be all right if I go after him?” asks Pinkie Pie.

The shop keeper stiffly turns to her. “You destroyed my shop.”

“I'll pay you back.”

“You're unemployed.”

“Eh... Bye!”

And with that Pinkie Pie runs off, ignoring the burn of her wounds and sore muscles. By the time she runs down the block, climbs the ladder and clambers on to the roof her lungs feel shriveled and her throat dry. She also tastes copper and her kidney feels like it has just been punched, and has to once again use her hammer for support so she can catch her breath without falling over.

An empty bottle of chocolate milk tossed at her feet makes Pinkie Pie jump and aim her hammer at Mismatch, and he meets her tired ferocity with a goofy smile. With them being merely a few paces apart Pinkie Pie notices that one of his red pupils is bigger than the other, and his eyes are yellow. She also sees that he has really, really big bushy eyebrows.

“You know, I think I like you. You did a great job making a mess,” says Mismatch. He pulls out a gold pocket watch with a grinning dragon etched in it, checks the time, then closes it with a obnoxious sigh. “But, alas, I must leave ye, oh fair maiden, for my chariot awaits me.”

Pinkie Pie grimaces. “Are you going to give back those gems you stole?”

“No. They're mine.”

“What? No they aren't! You stole those!”

“Think of it like a transfer of property.”

“Don't make me make you give them back. I already beat up your creeps and I can do the same for you.”

Mismatch puts his pocket watch away. “Can you now?”

Mismatch then grins and steps back, and from behind him rises a spearhead shaped craft with red tinted windows and four fat, cylindrical engines attached to stubby wings on socket joints. Its four engines turn as one, piercing the night with their screams and illuminating the dimness with red glows. The noise hurts Pinkie Pie's ears and the rush of air knocks her off balance, but Mismatch coolly keeps himself planted and extends his hand in perfect timing to grab a rope ladder that drops from the craft. Once he has a firm grip he starts his ascension and waves his cane theatrically, speaking loud enough for Pinkie Pie to hear him. Barely.

“Honestly, I would love to see you try, but I have places to be, people to meet, and dinners to nuke, so farewell!” says Mismatch. Once he is on the craft he aims his cane at her. “By the way! Here's my parting gift for an exciting night!”

He twists the tip of his can with his thumb, then he pulls the trigger and tip of the cane pops open to launch a brown at Pinkie Pie's feet. It splashes all over her, sticking her feet to the ground, and the gooey substance hardens in seconds.

Pinkie Pie growls and bashes at the cocoon with her hammer's bottom, but it is no use. It has become equivalent to a rock and her chipping at it is about as useful as a plastic spoon beating against it.

“What in the world? This is so not fair,” says Pinkie Pie.

Then she hears another pop and her eyes flick up just in time to see an orange orb only inches from her face. Luckily enough for her, she does not die. Instead she is blinded and her hearing blown out by the explosion, and more explosions and pops and crumbling concrete and snapping metal. When all is said and done, Pinkie Pie blinks and sees a translucent circle in front of her with all the craters, grooves and seas of a full moon. Around her is smoke and pockets of flame, and the roof is nearly nonexistent with holes all around, each growing bigger as the support gives out with loud groans and snaps, pushing out dust and smoke when they collapse to the floor below.

The brown sealant is then destroyed in a dark blue glow and Pinkie Pie staggers back a bit, having to use her hammer to steady herself, and that is when she sees her savior of the night standing next to her, looking less than thrilled.

The woman next to her has pale skin and strange, waving hair of light and dark blue, studded with twinkling, star-like dots, and she has it tied to a pony tail. Her blue eyes are focused on the craft in front of them, and one of her elbow length gloved hands is extended towards the shield while the other grips a pistol with a bayonet. She has a dark blue tunic with silver trim and long, black boots, has a dark cape, and her dark belt and choker both have crescent moons.

Without saying a word, the newcomer flexes her hand and the moon shield shatters, and she launches the shards towards the craft. It shakes and sparks and smoke fly from it as the magic shrapnel impales it. Mismatch only laughs and slips away inside, and the newcomer's hand glows in a bright, flaming blue, and the shards do the same. However, they are wrapped in a flaming aura, ejected from the ship and turned towards the two women.

The newcomer quickly puts up a domed shield that covers both of them, and Pinkie Pie cringes and shrinks down as the shards explode against the shield, shaking their bones what little of the roof is left. The dome muffles the explosions, but does very little to shield their eyes from the light. It hurts Pinkie Pie's eyes, but the newcomer does not appear to be affected. Instead, when the smoke clears, she aims her pistol at the ship and pulls the trigger.

The gun hums and the dome is sucked into a silver ball, sparking and swirling at the barrel, and when she fires it turns into a bright, screaming beam. From the craft comes a stream of fire that intercepts the newcomer's attack, and both roll and mix with each other, making a bright mess of flame and silver magic. Moments later it explodes, knocking the two women off of their feet and the craft off balance while a burning, sparking shock wave erupts across the sky, bringing just moments of day light and a thunder that rattles structures and activates dozens of car alarms.

After Pinkie Pie gets up, she groans and clutches her head. Her whole body is aching at this point, everything is spinning and she can only hear ringing. But when she looks at the strange woman that saved her she is flabbergasted to see that she is fine and dandy. Maybe a little dusty, but she is not bleeding and stumbling around.

The newcomer taps the side of her weapon and the blade shrinks down, and when she holsters her weapon Pinkie Pie sees the badge of a red “H” inside a gold shield which is in the center of a blue circle. Seeing that, Pinkie Pie gasps and a toothy smile grows as her bulging eyes twinkle in the moonlight, and the newcomer stares at her, bemused.

“You're a Huntress! Can I have your autograph?” says Pinkie Pie.

And that is how Pinkie Pie got arrested.