“Well fuck...this isn’t good…” I growled, ducking the two foals under me as we hid behind a slightly crumbling pillar that wasn’t even supporting the roof. “That’s Black Velvet…”

“Huh?” Melody asked, looking at the vender stall next to us that was selling animal pelts. “I thought black velvet would look...softer. Or something. Is black velvet a kind of animal?”

I stifled a laugh and turned her attention to a white mare with a short cropped mane in a rough bob-cut who was strutting into The Pile dressed in heavy Pre-War combat armor. While Cook Cook was a simpleton who thought only with his Flamer and a bag of mixed meat, Velvy was...cunning to say the least. She once studied under a Ghoul that supposedly came from the same era I hailed from, an ex-NER Veteran Ranger who found better money in training Merc groups. I hated to think he was just as good as I was, but given Velvet’s impressive record...I was inclined to believe it, if reluctantly. Her talents had gotten her access to the best of the Pre-War stock and somewhere along the line she donned a set of the M-CAT Model 5, the best damn armor ever produced that wasn't in the Ranger series. Like any self respecting Hitmare, she had painted over the bland military tan with a hearty black color reminiscent of the Talon Company though with a tasteful white trim, accented nicely by some cherry red shotgun shells mounted in elastic bandoliers across her shoulders and chest along her neckguard. Unlike some of us, she went without a helmet. Something about looking them in the whites of their eyes or some shit I never really cared to hear. I rarely interacted with other Hitmares both in an attempt to keep safe as well as just the fact I wasn't really one for making friends with fellow sociopaths.

“No, the mare walking in. Her name is Black Velvet...she’s...in the same line of work that I’m in. Was in. Whatever.” I said, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life now.

“Black Velvet…?” She giggled. “She doesn’t even have any black hair! What a dumb name.”

“I know. She only has a streak of black in her tail that she’s really proud of but...you won’t see it unless you really go looking for it. Not sure what her cutie mark would be to get that sorta name in this day and age without being from like Tenpony Tower or some shit. but she ain't the type in my book.”

“So...what’s the deal? Former girlfriend or something?”

“Heh, no. No, no, no...white coats might be my thing but the Velvet twins aren't mares I'd ever wanna take to bed. Both of them are Hitmares and damn good ones at that. Cook Cook may have let you put a bullet through his fat head but Black's not so consensual or unprofessional. See that dent in her neckguard and the big old scratch along the chest? I put that there...we had an argument over payment for a Contract we both inadvertently taken due to a communication mishap with the Syndicate. Didn’t work out too well. Holy shit...to think that wasn't even three weeks ago...”

Her bright blue eyes glared over the market, the scars on her face hidden quite well by her rather well groomed white fur and I instinctually wrapped my magic around my Sequoia in anticipation. She was a sniper and a CQC specialist. I was also a sniper and a CQC specialist. This made fights between us interesting because we either engaged at 600+ meters or point-blank range, the latter of which we had the most experience with. She was damn fucking good with her hooves, enough to make me very hesitant to engage her even with an apparent advantage in my favor. A knife in your possession can be turned on you in an instant if you weren't incredibly attentive.

I dug my helmet out of my saddlebags, not expecting to have to put it back on so soon, and glared at her through my visor forcing the scopes to zoom in on her. I was trying to get a closer look at what exactly she was packing so I could at least have an idea as to what I was up against. She had her favorite weapons just like I did but again, like me she was known to swap things around. If not for style, just to shake things up and keep in practice with more weapon types. The best Hitmares were the ones who specialized in few but could wield all. You never knew when you might find yourself stuck without your favorite weapon or even weapon type and you always had to be capable of using whatever you could find. There were more than a few occasions where I found myself tapping into my random reserve ammo in order to use something I had pulled off a dead enemy.

“Alright...so the APR-1, couple combat knives...that’s probably some throwing knives there...where’s your sidearm bitch…?” I muttered to myself as I took stock of the weapons visible on her body, the Anti-Personnel Rifle making me even more anxious since even my armor, as good as it was, wasn’t rated for straight shots from a .50 BMG. That was the territory of the T-60 to handle.

I was actually dumbfounded to find, at least as far as my quick analysis was concerned, that she wasn’t carrying a pistol or sidearm of any kind. I didn’t see any sign of a leg, shoulder or even boot holster anywhere on her person which was breaking the first rule of being a competent Hitmare: always have a sidearm on you at all times. Maybe she was feeling cocky today and wanted to go for a pure skill loadout (or as we liked to call it, a Quality Build) and force me into a wrestling match with her and those knives. Shit...of all the days I had to leave Little Fang at home…

“Should we just run for it?” Melody asked quietly, peeking from around the pillar at the mare who was steadily making her way towards us, the market parting around her like a school of fish at a predator.

“I dunno…” I muttered back, biting my lip nervously. “We can’t go openly, I’m way too recognizable dressed as I am. Folks here don't like her but that doesn't mean she can't leverage some of her intimidation to get someone to squawk.”

Looking back at the stall Melody had pointed out earlier, I shoved the two foals under the tattered cloth that marked the wall of the merchant’s stall and followed after them. We were in the back where all the extra pelts lay, amongst them being those of fox, Manticore and even what seemed to be Hellhound pelts. Melody buried her face into the fox pelt, nuzzling it and looking like she was in the midst of ecstacy while Gold looked scared but determined, his as-of-yet unused Sequoia hovering firmly a few inches in front of him. It was a rather good hiding spot and one Melody in particular would be loathe to leave but I didn’t know the merchant who owned the place. If he or she came to the back to find a pelt, I would have a rather hard time trying to convince them to let us stay back there. Not to say I wasn’t recognizable, but not everyone I could count on to help me out in our situation. I couldn’t speak for Melody or Gold but I was pretty sure trying to make a new friend when an angry badass is on your tail wasn’t a very good idea.

“Mmmmm...can we keep this?” Melody asked sweetly, throwing the white pelt around her shoulders and continuing to rub her face into it. “Is so soffffttt…”

I distractedly waved a hoof in her direction not implying a yes or a no but just trying to shut her up while I attempted to take another peek outside without getting the attention of either the merchant or Velvet, wherever the hell she was. Looking just over the front counter I was able to spot her progress as the crowd continually rolled around her like a wave everywhere she went. Her path had taken her to the far side of The Pile but I knew better than to trust that simple fact. If I were in her place I would have hired and/or 'enlisted' people I knew to act as more subtle eyes in the crowd. While I, the well known one garnered the most attention, they would be able to flit about the place unnoticed keeping a wary eye out for my prey. Velvet was no fool. She may be mighty unpopular around New Pegasus, unlike her sister, but she was hardly an idiot. That job was left to asshats like Cook Cook and Green who more than made up their lack of intelligence and charisma with brawn and that particularly male brand of idiocy.

“On the count of three we’re gonna crawl under the back of the tent and move into the next stall behind us. We’ve still got a walk ahead of us to get to the stairs to the Dark Market so we’re going to have to move quick, fast and swift, got it?”

“T-those last t-two words were r-redundant…” Gold mumbled behind me as I tugged up on the back of the tent as high as it would let me without tearing the fabric.

“Don’t question my Engrish smartass, get moving.” I hissed at him, half guiding and half hurling him under the gap followed closely by Melody.

The area behind the tent was mostly devoid of people since it was mostly a place for merchants to kick back and relax when somepony took over the stall for them. The two who were there simply glanced up at us from their derelict lawn chairs and waved lazily at me before settling back in their seats and closing their eyes. Who would have thought being a regular patron would come with these kinds of hidden perks?

I glanced over Gold and Melody just to check their wellbeing and noticed the pelt was poking out slightly from Melody’s saddlebags. I knew she didn’t have the money to pay for it so it seemed she had simply taken it. Saving the lecture for later, I yanked a blank holotape from my pocket and shoved it into the small slot in my helmet to record an apology message to leave alongside my payment for her theft. I could only hope the merchant person had access to a tape player because otherwise my gesture would ultimately be pointless even if it was an honest effort.

“Hey, sorry. I don’t know who you are. I’m sure you’re a nice dude, gal, whatever the hell you are, I don’t know. Anyway my daughter stole a fox pelt and this is the apology money for it. I don’t know how much this thing cost so I’m highballing it just to be safe. Good luck with your business and if I live long enough to come back here on better terms then I’m going to get to know you better and have my daughter apologize in person k? Gotta go.”

I pushed them towards the back of the next stall while I reviewed my message to see if it was good enough to leave behind. I regretted being a little coarse with my addressment of their gender but I was in a bit of a rush so it was going to have to do. I could make the proper restitutions when I came back and wasn’t being hunted down while doing daycare duty with two foals. I could afford it, even if he decided to gouge.

After they were adequately secured behind the next stall, I dove back under the partition to deposit my payment only to barrel down the merchant himself. Reflexes moved faster than comprehension and I had him in a proper chokehold with a hoof over his mouth before I could even think to ask what was going on. His light orange face turned a shade of red as he tried to choke out a scream from around the hoof clenching his throat and the one covering his mouth. I shook him a bit to tell him to shut up and relaxed my grip around his neck enough to allow him to get some air before I suffocated him and hissed into his ear.

“I’m really fucking sorry about this but for the love of Celestia don’t you say a fucking word got it? You’ve probably noticed that mare everyone is scared shitless of walking around out there and probably already know her name if you’ve been here long enough so you know exactly how dangerous this situation is for everyone involved. The only reason I’m here is to pay for a fox pelt my daughter stole from you a few minutes ago when we were hiding back here and I’ll be on my way. Got it?”

He nodded furiously, his slightly emaciated body trembling in terror as a detestably fragrant puddle formed beneath his hind legs. The poor guy had pissed his tail. Goddamnit, all I wanted to do was make amends for theft, not rob him of his stallionhood…

I dug through my saddlebags for the caps needed for the transaction, grateful to myself for thinking to bag up some of them in groups of fifty. Dropping two bags onto the shelf beside me I quickly released him and with another whispered apology I was out again from under the partition, silently wishing my idea for easier commerce would catch on quickly so I wouldn’t have to worry about sorting individual caps for large transactions like this.

Neither the two of them nor the sleepy merchants from earlier were anywhere to be seen by the time I made it back forcing me to fall back on my E.F.S to try and find the green tick that would mark Gold’s position since he was bound to be the only Ghoul in the immediate area. Sure enough, it didn’t take long to find the green amongst all the blue though I did notice there were more than one red tick amongst the forest of blue all around me. The hunt was thicker than I had hoped but then again I had pissed off Green Peace. He was smart enough to go for overkill when it came to me and again, I didn’t blame him. If I was the one hunting myself, I would hire as many willing bodies as possible and give them all miniguns and APRs. The best corpse was the one that was so full of holes it wouldn’t dare get back up again. (But not so full of holes as to be unrecognizable when it came time to get paid. A body without a head can prove to be hard to identify.)

I took a second to fiddle with the controls of my radio hoping the restoration and update of Gold’s helmet had worked well. I was banking on the hope that his obsession with his new toy kept it on his head instead of in his bags.

“Gold! Gold do you copy?” I hissed into my mic, crouching low behind a stacked pile of metal containers as one of the red ticks seemed to be walking very close nearby.

“O-oh hey! T-this thing w-works!” He replied, stuttering his way through a mini fangasm over his toy.

“Gold, where the fuck did you two go?! There’s more than Black Velvet out here looking for us and the last smart thing to not do would be to wander off in a place you have no fucking clue where you are!”

I glanced back at my E.F.S and noticed to my horror more than one red tick was directly to my right with nary a blue to be found and my choice of cover only hid my left and front sides. Too many civies for a gunfight and potentially too many for a tussle with a combat knife. With Little Fang I’d feel better since she gave me much needed length to my blade (and came with a very peculiar effect) but again, I had chosen to leave her back with the rest of my stuff. I was getting sloppy after becoming a kind-of parent. Too many lives to take care of at once. It was like being a part of Alpha Squad again only if everyone was an unruly teen and I were the mother trying to corral them through a minefield.

“M-Melody saw an a-art booth and wanted t-to go check it out.” He replied, obviously distracted. “We’ll b-be right b-back I promise!”

“Be right back my ass!” I growled, looking to my right and seeing four ponies and one Griffin huddled close, five angry red ticks marking their exact position on my compass. “Look, if you are where I think you are then look to your right. You should see a giant sign that says bathroom on it. Go to it and find a place to hide nearby and don’t fucking move until I get there. Mommy has to go kick some ass.”

“M-mommy?” He asked as I shut him off eliminating a potential distraction from what I was about to do.

“Alrighty...five-on-one….I can do this.” I whispered to myself as I took a quick tactical glance over my surroundings looking for anything I could use to my advantage. “Cakewalk...whatever the fuck that saying is supposed to mean.”

Aside from the metal containers, some chunks of the stone ceiling and a beaten up umbrella, the only other assets I had available to me were the pair of combat knives strapped to my lower back. Grenades and everything else I had was out of the question unless I wanted to start some true chaos. Close-in and personal was the name of the game.

I felt the container next to me, tapping it just hard enough to get a feel for the vibrations and discovered that despite its rusted appearance, it was actually solid steel that felt like at least a quarter of an inch thick. That was enough to stop most small-arms fire but a rifle would be dodgy at best. All I needed to do though was shave off as much energy from the bullets as possible and hope my armor could handle the rest. In a last ditch effort, the container was going to be my safe zone. Relatively speaking...

“Here we go…” I said to myself, drawing my combat knives from my back and wishing I had thought ahead to practicing throwing them so I could even the odds faster. None of them had helmets on and direct hits to the head or even neck would do wonders from a distance.

Clenching my gut, I dove out from my hiding place and hurled one of my two knives at my would-be assailants, hoping it would at least hit who I had been aiming for as I made contact with the ground and rolled. Jumping back up, I found I still had another ten feet of ground to cover but my knife seemed to have made contact with the cheek of the Griffin, though pommel first. I hadn’t killed him, just clocked him in the jaw and really pissed him off.

“It’s her!” A mare from the group yelled as they turned on me in disorganized unison, guns primed and ready to blow me apart.

“Shitfuckassrabbits!” I exclaimed, pushing all my effort into my next leap to cover the last five feet between us before they unleashed the fury.

My knife found a temporary home in the eye socket of the Griffin I had clocked earlier while one of the stallions in the group got a facefull of my crotch as I tackled him to the ground, throwing all my momentum into my downward motion. His neck thankfully snapped with a jolt, pinned between my leg on the ground and the second one curving down his back forcing him down harder against the wedge of my leg. Behind me the Griffin shrieked (though it sounded more like the squawk of an enraged turkey) and I instinctively yanked my knife back out to stay by my side where I could actually see it. Hooves were nearby my head so I swept a leg under them to get whoever it was off balance just long enough to unravel the dead guy from my hind legs and get back up.

“Shit!” Exclaimed the pony I had knocked around, their body flopping over at the same time I stood up.

My knife buried itself again in flesh this time in the neck of the mare on the ground, the serrated portion along the spine of the blade immensely effective in opening her esophagus to the open air leaving her thrashing softly on the dusty concrete floor. I caught sight of my other knife on the ground lying next to the Griffin who sat trying frantically to stop the blood pouring out of his empty eye socket, the missing eye impaled on the blade like a skewered piece of meat. He was too occupied with his injury to be considered an active threat so I flung myself at the last remaining stallion, my armored horn stabbing deeply into his unarmored chest. The impact with the ground hurt my neck and rattled my horn given the position I was in but there was a distinct clunk felt through my horn as if I had stabbed completely through him and into the concrete below. He went limp instantly as I pulled my head out of his chest and turned to see the Griffin still on the ground cradling his wounded eye.

None of them had managed to get a shot off. I was genuinely impressed with myself. I hadn’t been cornered in a situation like this in several years and with very good reason. It was bad for business to blow the brains out, or worse rip out someone’s intestines, in a public place you frequented yourself. You would forever be remembered as the crazy bitch who cut three people in half in front of a child’s fifth birthday party. Well...at least I was remembered that way to the ponies of Birkenworth fifty years ago. I was sure they had forgotten about it by now but...I wasn’t willing to take that chance.

Snatching up the eye encrusted knife, I walked up to the Griffin who cowered away from me holding up his talons in a feeble attempt to keep my blade from finishing him off. Rule number six of being a successful Hitmare: never leave witnesses if you can help it unless it serves to increase your notoriety. (If that is something you wanted.) I didn’t give a shit for this guy’s life, he had tried to kill me. This was justice if anything else, a concept everypony in the Wasteland knew to be integral to everyday life. Either you settle your differences with cash or you just straight up shot the fucker and moved on. So...why was I hesitating to kill the son of a bitch?

“Get out of here.” I sighed after what felt like a century of thought, throwing a hoof to the right. “Go before I decide to carve you out a new asshole…”

He squawked timidly and took off as quickly as he could while still holding a clump of torn fabric to his eye. It was a horrifying feeling to watch a witness scurry off of my own free will but I had to stop myself as instinct began to raise the crosshairs of my AMR on his bloodsoaked ass. It wasn’t like me to do this. So for that cause I was going to blame it on Melody. This was her doing, not mine. Mercy was much more her style.

“Won’t be long before somepony finds ya…” I sighed, looking at the slack jawed bodies swimming in a kiddie pool of their own gore.

“Gold.” I finally sighed into my radio, restoring the connection between us now that I was finished taking care of business. “You guys stay put like I told you too?”

“Y-yes.” He responded, his voice strained and quiet. “S-she’s right n-next to us!”

Sweet mother of Celestia I was going to have an aneurism…

“Stay right where you are, I’m coming.”

There was no point in even attempting to hide the bodies, even if I had the time to try it so I simply left them behind and hugged the line of stalls ahead of me making my way steadily north towards where they were hiding. The general bedlam of The Pile had nicely covered up the noises of my scuffle as yelling and screaming were more or less common amongst hagglers and gamblers alike. Hell it wasn’t uncommon for fights to break out and for ponies to wind up dead so that could go to help explain the five bodies I was leaving in my wake. Either way, my progress was unimpeded by further violent detours though there were still a healthy abundance of red on my E.F.S.

The sign indicating the public bathroom (which was one of the few in town that had actual working plumbing) was large enough to be seen across most of the building as it had been painted over a pair of large television screens that were fastened to a large support pillar in the near center of the room. I had never toured the LPGC building before the Megaspells but I assumed the T.Vs were for public announcements or stock prices or something of that nature. Now, like most things Pre-War related, they were re-purposed for something far more mundane than they were designed for.

Leading out from the base in a perfect east/west direction was a wide avenue of sorts that marked the main street of the market with a third street coming from the main entrance to the south. To the north of the sign were the stairs leading up to the offices that had been converted to the fancier booths that sold such things as cheese, wine, meat, clothing and so forth. It was a matter of pride to say that you could afford to shop on the second floor and became a sort of colloquial term applied to the richer tenants of Freeside who still couldn’t afford to enter into the Stirrup, which was reserved for the truly elite. Though I was a Second Floorer, I preferred to shop on the first floor with everypony else. I hated being labeled as rich. I was a self-professed punk ass bitch who just happened to have a lot of money and a big appetite.

“Where exactly are you two?” I asked, poking my head around a basket of fresh cut meat and failing to find an obvious hiding spot.

“I-in the bathroom…” Gold responded in a strained whisper almost too quiet to hear. “S-she’s right n-next to us.”
“Wait, like in the stall next to you?” I asked, taken aback with a sudden bout of humor at the thought.

“U-uh huh…” He gasped. “I-it’s very l-loud…”

She only ate meat so that made sense. Ponies were herbivores by default but omnivores by necessity. And then there were weirdos like Velvet who routinely wrecked their insides by devouring nothing but meat with no greens to counteract it. I myself liked a juicy Brahmin steak just as much as the next mare but the shits it gave me the next day almost made it not worth it...so I had to wonder just how little Velvet cared for her poor intestines. What a weird form of masochism.

“Stay put, I’m coming to get you.”

The path to the bathrooms went right through main street and there were red ticks on the E.F.S everywhere throughout. It felt like that stupid Old McDonal song from pre-school. Here a red, there a red, everywhere a red bitch. This was going to get messy if I didn’t time my movements carefully.

A Brahmin made its way past and a split second decision later I was clinging to its underbelly, half my vision obscured by the swollen udder. Meanwhile my legs cried out for mercy at having to hold myself up by bear hugging the underside of the sweaty, muddy two-headed cow. Red went around me without a fuss as the lumbering beast lopped behind its master towards whatever stall it was destined for, our path starting to veer dangerously away from the destination I had in mind. My grip gave out around the same time I decided to hurl myself off my impromptu ride and I had to rely on my momentum to roll me under a table covered with a patched cloth giving me a temporary respite from my efforts.

“Fuck me...right in the ass…” I panted, staring at the bottom of the table while my limbs took their time flushing the lactic acid from my muscles and I fought against my diaphragm trying to get me to hiccup.

“U-uh...w-what?” Gold asked with embarrassment obvious in his hitching voice.

“Nothing! Almost there, standby.” I panted out, shutting off my radio with a huff.

It was almost peaceful hiding under the table watching as the little ticks of red meandered about, looking aimlessly for me. Given a pillow I probably could have taken a nap right then and there but I instead settled for a long draught of my canteen refilled with ice-cold lemonade. A minute of rest later and I felt good enough to poke my head out from under the tablecloth to check for any witnesses before rolling out and booking it for the next available hiding spot. It was difficult to roll properly with a large rifle slung over my back, even with the barrel retracted into the receiver for portage but it was faster and beat the hell out of army crawling out from under there.

“Alright...how many shitheads can we count today…?” I mumbled to myself as I scanned the last stretch of stalls to the bathroom.

There were six visible and four I could not directly see on the road ahead, the four I assumed were guarding the entrance to the bathroom where Velvet still seemed to be occupying. I didn’t envy the poor guy or gal who had to stand guard outside or nearby her stall but it was a smart move on her part yet again. The second worst place I could think of to get caught by an assailant was with my pants down on the loo. The worst by far though would be getting attacked when muzzle deep in a tasty mare, but thankfully I had managed to avoid that horrible of an experience. As to how I wasn’t quite sure given my history.

It was at this time as I settled back to sit and think about my strategy that my armpits seemed to finally notice there were a pair of thick objects underneath them. I couldn’t help but slap my head in disgust with myself. I literally had a pair of suppressed pistols on my person the whole time that would have made my knife tango with the guys from earlier a cakewalk. Sure it wouldn’t have taken nearly the same amount of skill to pull off, especially with S.A.T.S, but I was going for efficiency not style. Well...OK, more like sixty/forty in efficiency's favor. Drawing both at once with practiced ease, I stepped out from my hiding spot and leveled my weapons on the red ticks marked on my compass, S.A.T.S coming online in perfect unison with my actions.

95% chance for two headshots on the two closest to me and an assortment of various other statistics for the other four ranging from 86% all the way down to 29. With the world at a standstill and my worldview wide open to taking in all the environmental factors surrounding my chances, I decided to take out the first two simultaneously then move in quickly to try and conceal the bodies from sight. It wasn't quite like me to be so sneaky and concealy but the best Hitmares tended to try new things on occasion to see if its more effective.)

The suppressors hissed out their deadly projectiles as the nirvana of S.A.T.S sent my bullets out with undying accuracy towards the two nondescript heads. As one, the back and side of their heads exploded in a wonderful spray of brain-filled gore as the jacketed rounds traveled halfway through their brains before exploding out the other side. Bodies dropped in their old, familiar way and I was already on the move towards the first, taking advantage of the observation that the next nearest ‘bad’ witness had her back turned. Fucking amateurs… If I wasn’t so focused on protecting my kids I would have been insulted by Velvet’s blatant disregard for my reputation. Or maybe she just thought I was stupid. Either way...in some ways it was just too easy.

“I’m really close Gold, just another few minutes at most.” I said as I drug the last body into a relatively obscured area, the ponies around me staring at me for half a second before moving on with their business with a bit more speed behind their steps.

“O-ok…she’s g-gone now.”

I looked up just in time to see the frowning snarl of Velvet waltzing out of the bathroom, the large trademark Barnette muzzle break of her APR-1 more than obvious on her back while a previously unseen magnum revolver lay in a holster across her armored chest. I was actually deeply pissed off at this. Not the fact that she was hunting me down (wasn’t the first time) but the fact she seemed to almost be copying me. I was the one known for the big rifle, the big revolver and the thick armor, not her. The thick armor sure and I would make a concession to the rifle bit but not the revolver. If it was a large caliber top-break, I was going to scream and I didn’t care if it turned into a bloodbath. It was fine to copy some fighting tactics, maybe a weapon choice...but it was an unspoken rule to never copy another Hitmare’s aesthetic style if you yourself were already counted amongst their number. An adoring fan in a lower rank can certainly try if they're looking to maybe learn from their idol but it was a risky practice as not every Hitmare liked being copied by novices.

I pulled my rifle from my back, blind anger edging out my common sense just enough to train my sights on her ugly face when she looked directly at me and smirked. The AMR was a charcoal grey, the scope lens treated to not reflect light and I was mostly in the shadows. So...how the fuck was she pulling this off?!

She whistled and the remaining eight ticks on my compass all formed up beside her forming a wall against the entrance of the bathroom, two of them holding Gold and Melody hostage. One had a gun (Gold’s gun I noticed with terror) against Melody’s temple while the other had a rusty, jagged knife against the jugular of Gold who hung limply in the grip of his captor either knocked out or passed out.

“What ya gonna do, Crete?” She yelled out, the crowd within earshot all quieting down as they comprehended the situation that was unfolding. “I got your two little shits right where I want them and I’ve got you right where I want you. What ya gonna do? Blow us all up with your AMR? Go ahead! We’ll take your brats with us to the grave!”

Her compatriots didn’t seem to be so dedicated to that statement by the way they eyed her and my rifle nervously as if I would actually take her offer. Melody looked...almost bored despite the massive barrel pressing against her head. It took me a second to realize this was probably not the first time she had been in this kind of situation. A gun to the head tended to get ponies to do what you wanted them to do but after awhile I suppose it would become just a formality. I actually noticed she had slightly lifted her tail to the side as if to present herself to the stallion who held her in the air. Terror was instantly exchanged for rage at seeing her fall immediately into her broken, victim state.

“Velvet!” I yelled out, stepping into the open and dropping my rifle on the ground. “You know the rules. No kids.”

She snorted so loudly in disgust I heard her even from where I stood. She hated kids even more than I did and everyone knew it, especially the Syndicate which explicitly made the no-kids rule just for her. If you intentionally shot a child who posed no threat to you then you could kiss your positive image (as positive as you could get as a killer-for-hire) goodbye. The whole process was so regulated it was scary.

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, Crete! I know your logbook just as good as everypony else in this shithole does. Besides, what happened to your whole ‘I never want to have a snot-nosed brat of my own’ shtick? Huh? Since when did you bog yourself down with these little fuckwads?”

She jerked a hoof towards Melody and Gold, though Melody was the only one who reacted. It was a tired look of sadness towards me before letting her head sag downwards in defeat.

“That’s none of your fucking business Velvet. Now, let them go and let’s settle this beef of ours like responsible adults.” I growled as loudly as I could at her, snickering internally at how she cocked her eyebrow in slight surprise.

“Phhbt, like hell I will.” She laughed, gesturing once again towards her captives. “I finally have a solid one-up on you Crete and I’m not gonna give it up just to play fair!”

“Yeah but you’ve also got quite an audience this time don’t ya?” I countered, pointing at the large crowd that had gathered around us that was only getting thicker as time went on. “Harm those foals and you’re gonna have to kill everyone to cover it up. Don’t know how many bullets you guys have but it’s not going to be enough to pull that big of a stunt off. You think I've ruined my reputation? Least I killed Slavers and other fuckers the Syndicate has no particular love for. Innocents are for amateur Mercs like the Talons to slaughter, we kill to a much higher standard than that and we both fucking know it. It sure as hell ain't a holy profession but it damn well ain't interested in collateral damage. Something you seem to not give two shits about relying on your precious big sister's clout in the community to keep your name on the books.”

I knew there were two more of them directly behind me at that very moment from the crunch of their hooves in the gravel behind me, but I wanted to give them an extra second to think they were on the winning team. One of them made the obvious mistake of cocking their weapon right behind my head which was all the time I needed to draw my knives out once more and stab them under their chins right into the brain. Dragging them forward, their heads still impaled on my knives, I presented them to Velvet with as much saucy flair as I could muster before wrenching my blades free and watching them flop to the ground on either side of me. As the ground beneath me turned red and wet, a vein throbbed in Velvet’s neck while her eyes narrowed in anger towards me. Her pride had been sufficiently prickled and it was about fucking time.

“Fine! You and me then, you cocksucking piece of shit!” She snarled, flinging Melody and Gold to the ground as she strode towards me drawing her own combat knives. “Knife dance it is you fat ass, so helmet off. Let’s do this properly.”

I snorted in amusement as I took it off and set it down beside my rifle. ‘Properly’ wasn’t even close to the word I would use to describe her M.O. ‘Messy’ and ‘uncultured’ where more apt descriptions but they lacked the proper weight needed to be insulting. In the end I went with ‘retarded’ since I couldn’t come up with anything better. Well...anything that wasn’t more than one word and wasn't a swear.

“Bring it on bitch…I’m a cunt-muncher anyway.” I giggled, crouching low and watching as she did the same though her pose just screamed NER. My assumption was correct as to the source of her training. “I haven't sucked dick since I was in my twenties...unlike you.”

She lunged at me, knives spinning in her magic as she aimed for my neck and chest whilst I jumped over her. One blade glanced off my shoulder while the other missed entirely, swinging into open air as she skidded to a halt using her kneeguards to brake on the concrete floor. I retaliated as I hit the floor behind her, lashing out with only one knife at her ass while I kept the other nearby in preparation for a follow-up strike. Naturally it just glanced off her faulds given she was wearing the Mrk. V model of combat armor, but I could tell she had felt the ding in her butt by the way she got to her hooves looking livid as fuck. We hacked and slashed at each other for another solid five minutes, neither of us making a dent in the others armor or defenses as we were just too evenly matched as we were. For every slash she had a parry and for each of my counters she had one of her own to offer right back. Despite her hatred for me, it was nothing compared to the fiery vitriol I held for her for threatening harm to my kids. She was going to die and that was fucking that.

“Let’s see how you like this little bag of tricks, Crete!” She giggled evilly, pulling a gold ring set with a orange/red gemstone out of her bags and slipping it onto her horn after I had used her head as a springboard to get some distance. “I know how much you hate using magic so why don’t I make up for that?”

Her horn sparkled again with green magic but it changed into a flame once it reached the ring on her horn. Not only had her wealth and reputation bought her her armor and weapons but it also extended into the realm of the arcane. Fucking Pyromancies...I hated the cursed Souls that had invented them.

“Aha! So you recognize this, don’t you?” She sneered as the flame on her horn erupted into a massive fireball that hurtled towards me like a boulder of hot orange light.

I half yelped, half screamed as I dove out of the way, my progress assisted once the fireball connected with the ground and exploded behind me sending me flopping across the impromptu ring of ponies who all jumped back from the flame. Magic was alive and well in the world, I of all ponies knew that. I just tended to avoid combat mages as best I could and that was a policy I had kept since my first ever experience fighting a Zebra Alchemist. I wasn’t talented with magic. I preferred my skill with a weapon over any kind of skill behind a spell. Magic was the realm of great magicians and schoolbook nerds, too esoteric and arbitrary for me.

My knives seemed quite small compared to the funeral pyre coming from her horn and it was an unspoken rule that it was a no-gun duel. The only reason she was ‘allowed’ to use Pyromancies was because technically, as far as I knew, all she was using was telekinesis which just so happened to be channeled and used as fuel through the Inferno Ring on her horn. Telekinesis was allowed for Unicorns engaging in a duel and she was just exploiting a loophole in the technicalities of it all. With none of the Shadow Brokers present to officiate on behalf of the Syndicate, there was no official ruling to be had on whether or not she was cheating. Besides...it had been a long time since I had seen these kinds of specialty magics. Most Unicorns just learned the universal magic attacks like the Arcane Arrow and the Magic Barrier so Crystal magics, Pyromancies, Electromancies and Frostbite magic were all insanely rare to see. Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I had seen somepony talented enough in magic to use one of them let alone have the resources and/or wherewithal to find one of the Rings needed to perform them.

“How do you like the taste of fire, Crete? Huh?!” She taunted, launching another fireball from her horn that I had to dive under once more.

“It’s old fashioned!” I retorted, rolling up to my hooves and snatching up as many chunks of concrete as I could grab in my magic and hurling them back at her since I had nothing other than my telekinesis in my bag of tricks. “I haven’t seen a Pyromancer in years! How old are you?”

“Younger than your wrinkly old ass!” She hissed, shooting another fireball right for me.

I changed my tactic this time and instead of diving to the side, circling around her, I dove towards her to close the distance between us meaning her next fireball would be much closer to home. The glare of the fireball exploding seemed to blind her slightly (the fire burning brighter in response to her anger) giving me an extra few seconds to close the gap and I made the assumption that fireball was the only Pyromancy she thankfully seemed to know. Besides, with the Ring on, she couldn't perform telekinesis so the advantage was mine.

“Shit! Get away you-!” She howled, fear widening her eyes when she realized that I was three-feet from her, more than close enough to angle my knife to plunge right into her heart via the chink in her armor under her left armpit. The Kevyarn bodysuit under the ballistic impact plates was mostly woven from the short-fiber variety which, while strong against bullets and shrapnel, was hot shit against a sharp knife.

Her voice cut off in a satisfyingly wet gurgle as I exploited the weakness I had personally discovered in my fourth year in the Badlands right after the Mrk. V hit the front lines with the GA's bestest boys. Though I had never planned on having to use this information myself (since at that time the only ones wearing it were Equestrians) it had come very in handy as I watched her sink to the floor. And the Colonel said my fascination with armor was going to be a waste of time.

“Steel beats fire biaaaatch!” I laughed, getting close to her and wiggling the hilt of my knife poking out of her side eliciting a scream of pain indicating I hadn’t hit her heart. “Shit...I missed.”

I looked over my shoulder at Melody who looked back at me with sad eyes that I couldn’t quite interpret. Either she was sad that I had stabbed Velvet, or she was personally hurt from the words Velvet had quoted from me regarding children. I went with the latter option considering Velvet was a terrible mare and Melody was understanding of killing terrible people as far as I knew. I mean, she had literally stomped the shit out of Jangle's head so...

“J-just kill me…” She gurgled, blood dribbling from her mouth indicating I had definitely stabbed her in the lung meaning a long and painful death if I didn’t do something about it.

“Do it Crete!” A person in the crowd bellowed out followed swiftly by several other shouts of approval. “Gut the bitch and send her head to Green!”

It would be a proper message to send to Bitch Face, that’s for sure. But...goddamnit Melody. There was a reason I had tried to eliminate my morality from the equation when it came to taking care of business. It was easy to eviscerate a target and get their guts all over the floor and walls when you didn’t even have to pause and think about the ethics of your choices. Believe me, I put up with four semester’s worth of Philosophy at EastPoint and my ethics class was the worst. Do good because goodness invigorates the Soul and blah, blah, blah...if I was doing good, it was because I wanted to do it and not to fulfill some ethereal mandate set up by some old stallions millenia ago. (Looking at you Pluto!)

All I had to do was pull out my knife and she would drown in her own blood within minutes. Or I could pull it out and shove it back in aiming right for her heart. The avenues for death were endless. Looking back at Melody, I gave a face I hoped implied my question regarding her approval of killing Velvet since she seemed to be the only thing holding me back. I knew it was my relationship with her and how she perceived me that was really to blame but I was being general in labeling her as the problem. She gave a short nod before turning towards Gold who was still sprawled out on the floor at the hooves of the lackeys who were deathly still with fear seeing as I had beaten their master.

“You had a good run Velvet.” I said to her quietly so the others couldn’t hear me. “Had we not fought over territory and hits so much I might have called you a friend…”

“S-save the *cough* bullshit Crete…” She huffed out, lazily looking at me through the haze of blood loss. “We both know...that’s a lie.”

"Eh...I guess you're right. You're too much of a cunt to be a friend, too straight to fuck and too competitive to share."

I drew out my revolver to put her down swiftly but she shook her head with great effort and wheezed out, “Leave...me a...pretty corpse please…”

She was never one for personal appearances so this request came off as a little strange. But I holstered my gun anyway and grabbed my knife once more. As I prepared to take it out, I noticed that despite her lack of formality, her coat was clean and her armor, as dented as it was, was polished and well presented. Maybe I was just looking in the wrong spot for her sense of vanity. After all, the short bob-cut hair style was actually kinda cute on her.

“Sleep tight.” I said, drawing the knife out and plunging it back into her heart in one deft motion, her body instantly going limp and flopping backwards.

The crowd cheered as her body hit the floor with a solid smack while the eight who had stood by her fled every which way to try and avoid repercussions from the mob for taking her side. The fame was something I had secretly been wanting for years ever since the Tin Heads had stolen the spotlight from my Corps but the only thing on my mind that I wanted was Melody’s approval. I dashed over to her side as quickly as I could and hugged her harder than I ever had before hoping with all my might she would feel my love for her. She hugged back, gently at first but then with more vigor as she clung to me, her small head resting on my shoulder as she did so.

“What Velvet said earlier…” I whispered into her soft ear that was pressing against my lips. “That was before I met you...you have become the single most important thing in my life, Melody.”

Her breath hitched as I said that and she kissed my cheek in response, a youthful passion behind it that sent my heart careening off a jump and into the sky. She was my daughter in all but name now...I could feel it in my Soul she could feel it too.

“T-thank you…” She squeaked out before looking over my shoulder and gasping, “What are they doing?!”

I whipped myself around to see the crowd rushing towards Velvet’s body with bags out and knives poised as if to dismember her. I set Melody down as gently as I could in a hurry and charged towards them with my guns out and my anger kindled. Velvet had done Freeside a lot of wrong in life but that was no reason to desecrate her corpse. Not even I hated her that much. Besides, there was something better that could be done to satiate their bloodlust.

“Back the fuck up!” I bellowed at them, stopping them in their tracks. “Anypony who even thinks about touching her body is going to join hers on the ground you hear me?!”

They shied away at that looking completely bewildered that I was standing up for the mare that had just tried to immolate me not even five minutes prior but they didn’t know honor like I did. It was yet another unspoken rule in my trade, just like the hooves only rule, to give the body of a fellow Hitmare a proper burial given you defeated them in equal combat like we had. Cook Cook was different as we weren’t in a formal duel and he was harming the people of Freeside including children which, again, was against the rules. Rulebreakers could be disposed of however you saw fit long as there was sufficient evidence of their transgressions on file.

“Do you know what she’s done to my family?” Cried out a mare clutching two young foals to her breast. “She murdered my husband! Destroyed our business! We have nothing because of that monster!”

“What about my children?” Another called out. “Who’s going to avenge them huh?”

“You’re no better than she is, you monster!”

The crowd was quickly turning against me. I may be more popular than Velvet in Freeside but I was far from the model citizen. I was a Hitmare and everypony knew it. I killed indiscriminately for money. Maybe I haven’t done much against the citizens of Freeside...but I really wasn’t any better than Velvet. I just did my business outside of town.

“Well, she was my kill, not yours. I get to do whatever the fuck I want with her body and what I want to do is give her a proper burial. There’s this little thing we like to call ‘honor’ and I’d like to show her some alright?” I said as calmly as I could, slightly lowering my weapons but not entirely removing them from sight.

“Oh like you’re any better than she is. You’re just as at fault as she is, Crete. You may take your business out of town but we all know what you do for a job.”

“You’re right. I’m a monster and I’m not going to admit it. Hell, I’m fucking proud of that!” I challenged, glaring down everypony in turn until they averted my gaze. “But even I have some standards alright?”

Melody tugged on my tail and whispered an idea into my ear that was reminiscent of what I had done in Old Appleloosa. It was an awkward, slightly uncomfortable idea but it was genius nonetheless and would go a long way to help sooth the tension between myself and Freeside.

“Alright...my daughter just gave me a great idea.” I said after mulling over the details of her plan. “Everyone who has been personally affected by Velvet’s actions meet me at Cogsworth’s shop in three hours for restitutions. I know it won’t be enough to replace the things and people you have lost...but take it as a sign of my apology for your situation. You can scream at me, shoot at me, whatever. But turning me down in this is just insane.”

They all looked more or less dumbfounded at my proposal though eventually some began to call for my capture and execution as if that would help them. When the crowd started to look unfriendly I snagged everything I could find of Velvet’s, including her body, and booked it with Melody and a conscious if confused Gold right back towards Cogsworth. The crowd thankfully didn’t follow and those who had been milling about unaware of the commotion kindly got out of the way the moment they caught sight of us hauling ass with a corpse across my back.

As we entered the safety of Cog’s workshop area, he looked up from his work on the Mr. Guts with the flame job with surprise.

“Back so swiftly?” He asked with an amused chuckle, Chocolate hanging off his shoulders nibbling on his ear lovingly. “A trip to the Dark Market that be this short must have a compelling story behind it.”

He finally noticed the dead and bleeding mare on my back and looked at me with both surprise and shock.

“Velvet? Tell me not you have vanquished her…” He said slowly, Chocolate perking up to see the body sprawled out on my back dripping blood onto the floor from the wound in her armpit. “May the gods have mercy…”

“I did.” I said simply, letting her corpse fall off my back and onto the floor. “And with her money I’m going to try and repay the ponies outside for all the shit she’s done to them.”

He stared at me critically for a solid, awkward five minutes before saying, “You have changed radically Athena...be wary that you be not swept away into something too unfamiliar…”

“I’ve got a heart Cogs, I just haven’t really used it in the last...I don’t know, fifty or sixty years. Longer than you’ve been alive that’s for sure. Anywho, I’ve got to find Velvet’s house thing so I can break into it, steal her shit and pay these ponies back. I told them to come back in three hours so...we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Wait...ya gonna play the good girl hero babe while yo ass is still bein’ hunted down?” Chocolate said incredulously. “Girl, you fuckin’ crazy.”

The look of adoration on Melody’s face was more than enough for me to dedicate myself to the idea she had proposed, the danger of it be fucked. She was genuinely looking up to me with love and adoration...that was well worth the risk of getting shot in the face by an angry citizen or getting shot at by another group of Green’s goons. I hadn’t done much wrong by Freeside but I sure as hell was going to make amends for whatever they thought I had done wrong using somepony else’s money yet again. Well, I had killed Velvet honorably so her shit belonged to me now technically but it felt better to think it was her money going towards reparations and not my own.

Damn right I was fucking crazy. I was two-hundred and thirty something, now was as good a time as any to start losing my marbles. Maybe I would get lucky and the ponies on my tail would get tripped up once my marbles hit the floor. If they wanted crazy, they were gonna get it alright. I would see to that.

Next Chapter: Chapter Twenty-Four: The Striped Traitor Estimated time remaining: 20 Hours, 21 Minutes