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The Implicit Neighs

by FanOfMostEverything

Chapter 1: This Vicious Cabaret

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The last seat had been filled several minutes ago. The curtains were closed, stained with the legacy of dozens of past performances and audiences. Behind them, the opening act and several roustabouts—a blend of stagehand and helpful squatter—made sure everything was in place. Meanwhile, in her dressing room, the hostess was doing something similar.

"Costume, check." The costume designers loved working with ponies. The innate illusion that hid all of the interesting bits gave them much more leeway in making outfits that were as provocative as possible while still technically obeying decency laws. It was like walking a tightrope, but with more fabric and less pig's blood. The emcee's outfit for this evening wasn't clothing as much as it was as a collection of studded leather straps and black-and-red checkered cloth that happened to fulfill similar roles for its wearer. It didn't blur the line between jester and dominatrix; it wholly discarded the idea that the two were distinct roles. It also did nothing to hide her cutie mark, a grinning demon skull flanked by balloons.

"Awesome hat, check." Given the emcee's mane, it was really more of a headband, reinforced so it could support the weight of the curving demon horns, but as far as she was concerned, it was her awesome hat. There were many like it, but this one was hers.

"Opening act?"

"Schkk," gurgled a stagehand that had entered the room to tell her just that. The ickspitter was certainly an odd sight, keeping the clipboard in its claw away from the caustic slime that dribbled out of its face and chest, but it was part of the club's hallmark eccentricity.

The pony beamed at the drooling thrull. "Great! Thanks, Glrkt!" With that, she bounced her way behind the stage, where the opening act, a pair of half-demons, was finishing the first musical number.

A half-woman, half-goat, half-frog sang with surprising, haunting beauty:

So when you wish to figure out
Exactly what to screw
Just let this word into your head
And you'll know what to do
But better use it carefully
Or it might change your life—

The other, looking like an overmuscled centaur with the back end cut off, concluded, "One day I did it to this frog and now that frog's me wife!"

The emcee couldn't restrain herself anymore, bursting on stage alongside them to much enthusiasm from the audience and wide grins from the performers. After the last ribbit-bleat, the theater erupted in applause, cheers, and the occasional knife thrown out of sheer exuberance.

The earth mare looked at the couple with pride. "You two have the voices of angels," she gushed, projecting her praise out to the audience. "Just don't tell me where you got 'em."

Her attention returned to the onlookers. "Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, welcome to the Pinkie Revue, where you may not survive this monologue!" She stomped, prompting the stagehands to fire warning shots of their caustic contents. One patron flinched in just the wrong way, getting a blob of acid to the scalp for his troubles. Pinkie shrugged. "I warned you!" The laughter redoubled.

"In any case, the Zahaks, ladies and gentlemen! Five years of happy marriage and they still haven't killed each other!" Pinkie Pie led the applause as the half-demons bowed. As they left the stage, she continued, "But we're here to celebrate a different milestone. I am pleased to announce that this is the Pinkie Revue's one hundredth performance!"

Pinkie pulled out a set of spiked juggling balls and killed a little time as she waited for the cheers to die down. When they did, she tossed her balls into the air, did a half-flip, and bucked them into the ceiling. Tottering about the stage on her forehooves, she continued, "We've got a great show for you tonight, featuring the comedy stylings of Perjaxinorz, Exava and her Amazing Dancing Cadavers, and our very special guest, reminding us that you can't spell 'slaughter' without 'laughter,' Massacre Girl!"

As the audience nearly shouted themselves hoarse, Pinkie triple-flipped her way back onto all fours. "But first, fresh from performing for the Lord of Riots himself, it's time for Shirtless Zeb and his famous fire dance!"


The sun was rising by the time Pinkie dragged herself back to her dressing room. She was exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion. The sort you got from adding some much needed excitement and hilarity to humdrum lives. Well, excitement, hilarity, and the occasional death, but really, what most people did wasn't living. It was barely even existing. Juggling flaming zombie rats, now that was living! And a good idea for a future opener.

Fully disrobed and somewhat decontaminated, Pinkie made her way up to her modest bedroom above the stage. There, she grabbed the pencil she kept on her nightstand. "Juggle... flaming... zombie rats..." she muttered around it, getting the idea down on the notepad she always kept close at hoof, in case of sudden inspiration. Pleased with herself, she collapsed onto her mattress, asleep before she made contact.

It felt like only moments later when there was a knock on the door. "Miss Pinkie?" called an echoing batrachian alto soprano.

"Urgh..." At some point, the mare had gotten her sheets on top of her, so only a sullen lump was visible on the bed. "Is it noon yet?"

"No, but—"

"You know the policy, Batara. Pinkie sleeps 'til the afternoon." The lump slumped back down, the matter settled.

"Rainbow Dash is here to see you, Ma'am."

"Dashie?" Pinkie kicked off her covers and opened the door, her smile wide despite the bags under her eyes. "That's a horse of several different colors! Tell her I'll be down in five!"

Batara curtsied, careful not to snag her horns on anything on the way up. "Of course, Ma'am."

Three minutes later, a little carefully applied red mana had Pinkie up to her usual levels of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She threw open the door, cried "Dashie!", paused for just long enough to confirm Rainbow Dash was unarmored and therefore hug-compatible, and hugged her. Then, with her prey defenseless, she pouted mere inches from her face. "I can't believe you missed the big centennial!"

Dash offered a nervous grin, unable to make eye contact. "Yeah, I, uh, had a patrol."

"All night? You know we always accept latecomers!"

"Well, um..." Dash sighed. "Look, Pinkie, could you let go of me? We need to talk."

Pinkie released her friend without any of her earlier animation. Her pout intensified to heart-rending levels. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

This got a double take. "Wha— We're not in a relationship! I don't even like mares!"

"And neither do I, but it sure lightened the mood, didn't it?" Pinkie proved her point with a giggle.

Dash facehoofed. "Ugh. Pinkie, this is genuinely serious."

"Oh, Dashie, everything's serious with you." Pinkie stiffened, assuming an exaggerated pose of military vigilance. She bellowed bombastically, "Criminals are mugging innocent civilians! Evildoers walk the streets! Candy is being taken from babies!" She shook her head. "You really need to learn to stop and smell the greasepaint. Or armor polish, I guess."

"Pinkie, my superiors want me to stop coming to see you."

The earth mare was silent for some time. Finally, very quietly, she asked, "Why?"

Dash pawed at the floor. "Well, it's about appearances, you know? Can't have the people's favorite skyjek going to a Rakdos club at night. Sends mixed signals."

"The Pinkie Revue does not condone criminal acts performed on the premises." Pinkie rattled off the legalese like she'd memorized it, which, of course, she had. "Any such acts will be immediately reported to the proper authorities and are grounds for loss of membership, immediate expulsion, and a lifetime ban. The Pinkie Revue is a subsidiary of the Cult of Rakdos. All rights reserved. Some restrictions apply. Cash value: One one-hundredth of a zib."

Dash rolled her eyes. "Come on, Pinks, you don't think that fools anyone, do you?"

Pinkie shrugged. "It's good enough for the lawmages."

"Well, it's not good enough for the Theater of Order. You're on Commander Grozdan's short list, Pinkie, and he doesn't care how much advokist crap you throw in his way." Dash hadn't wanted to name-drop the minotaur, who'd been targeting every Rakdos establishment he could pin down long enough to raid. Still... "I don't want the next time I see you to be on a list of arrests, or worse, executions. Please, Pinkie."

The other pony gave her a sad, knowing look. "Rainbow Dash, if you do as your higher-ups tell you, there won't be a next time you see me."

"...I know."

"So, the Boros Legion is ignoring the letter of the law, threatening a legitimate business and trying to tear apart a friendship." A scab-colored aura manifested around Pinkie. "That cannot stand. This aggression cannot stand!"

"They also put a bounty out on you."

"They what!?" The aura vanished in Pinkie's incredulity. "You're kidding!"

Dash produced a sheet of paper from under a wing. Holding it in her mouth, she mumbled, "See f'r y'rself."

It wasn't a bad likeness of Pinkie. They'd certainly gotten the mane right. The expression was close, too. She was smiling, but it wasn't a happy smile. More like a demon's smile, the sort that said, "I'm going to have fun. You aren't." Pinkie read the text beneath it. "Ten thousand zino reward for Pinkamena Diane Pie, alias 'Pinkie,'" owner and operator of unauthorized diversion club "The Pinkie Revue." She frowned. "I am so authorized!"

"Kee' readin'."

"Suspect charged with assault with a deadly weapon, assault without a deadly weapon, baking proscribed cultural artifacts without approval, operating a mizzium omnicannon without a license, possession of illegal narcotics, possession of illegal psychogenics, possession of illegal teleportatives, unnecessary tossing of the citizenry, and tax evasion." Pinkie scowled. "I never tossed anyone in my life!"

Dash let the notice drop. "Pinkie, please calm down."

"Calm down? How can I calm down? These charges are outrageous! Ludicrous! Flattering, even!" Pinkie grabbed the notice and balled it up, but had the restraint not to set it on fire. "You know what I'm gonna do?"

"Don't do anything, Pinkie," Dash groaned. "You're in deep enough already."

The pink mare shook her head. "Oh, no. I thought it was bad enough, but now they've gone too far. You know what I'm gonna do? I'll tell you what I'm gonna do!"


"Hello, I'd like to register a complaint, please?" Pinkie smiled up at the wojek behind the desk. She'd spent the better part of an hour waiting in line at the garrison, but hopefully it would all soon be worth it.

The man behind the desk sighed and produced a new blank form. "Name and occupation?"

"Pinkamena Diane Pie, proprietress."

"And what is..." The Boros trailed off as his mind registered what he was writing. He glanced beyond the complaint form. A pink pony, no horn or wings, with a ridiculously frizzy mane, a much more respectable dress than he'd expected, and a manic grin that was on wanted posters throughout the ten districts. "Excuse me for a moment. I need to speak with my supervisor."

"Okey dokey!" Pinkie hummed to herself as the good little soldier moved away from her, careful not to make any sudden movements.

A few minutes later, still humming, she was apprehended by every able-bodied guild member in the base.


Pinkie was practicing her juggling when the interrogator came up to her cell. To her disappointment, it was a grey-bearded human and not the viashino she'd been hoping for. She'd had so many "gator" puns lined up! Oh well. "Hi!" Pinkie caught the pebbles she'd been practicing with and set them down in a little pile by the slab that was currently her bed. "I was really impressed by your restraint, you know. Not only did it take several whole minutes before I got dogpiled, I wasn't even crushed under the weight!"

"Despite any personal feelings we may have about you, Miss Pie, we must still observe the law, or we are no better than you."

"Me?" Pinkie echoed innocently. "I'm making people smile and laugh and dance. You're all just looming over them, with all your pointy swords and pointy shields and pointy helmets and pointy, pointy, pointy laws."

The human shook his head. "You kill people, Miss Pie."

"Members only."

"And that's supposed to make it acceptable?"

Pinkie's smile stayed, but a bit of cunning slipped into her eyes. "No, it's supposed to make it legally protected religious expression. You see, membership at the Pinkie Revue comes with membership to the Cult of Rakdos, and any cultist killing another is considered a religious sacrifice according to Article 4, Section iii, Paragraph 6 of the revised Guildpact. Or, as Rakdos himself put it, 'Why should the other guilds care how we have our fun?'" The mare shrugged. "Call that murder, and I can think of some pig-worshippers in the Rubblebelt you can pin animal cruelty onto."

Pinkie's smile widened as she took in the old soldier's dumbfounded expression. "You know, just because I'm a Rakdos doesn't make me brainless. I'm not some crazed spiker, I'm a comedian and a businessmare. I'd never have gotten where I am today without thinking ahead." She considered the cell. "Okay, maybe not where I am this very moment, but I'd have never climbed the corporate ladder from Hell."

"I see." The interrogator straightened himself, trying to salvage some dignity. "In any case, aside from those crimes we know you committed, you are also a major suspect in approximately thirty-five others. I am far from the last interrogator you will be seeing today."

"Yeah, about that." Pinkie swung her head from side to side. "Have you and your friends taken a look at the ol' battlements lately?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Um, Sir?" A trembling boy, probably still in his teens, had crept towards the older man. His only armor was a vest of light rings emblazoned with the guild sigil. Pinkie couldn't help but think of her ickspitters. "Th-the lieutenant said we may have a situation."

"What?"

The messenger cowered as the veteran's full attention was focused on him. "Um, you see, it's possible that we may be kind of... surrounded."

"By who?"

"By whom," Pinkie noted. "'By whom are we being surrounded?' Just because you've got a popular uprising doesn't mean you should ignore proper grammar."

"You shut up, demon-nag!" the runner squealed. "You'll get yours soon enough!"

Pinkie nodded. "Sure will."

The boy wasn't sure how to respond to this. "Are... are they allowed to agree with you on that sort of thing, Sir?"

"You will find," huffed the interrogator, "that attempting to predict the actions of Rakdos and his minions is often an exercise in futility." He leaned in close to the bars, staying just out of hoof's reach. "What did you do, Pie?"

"No 'miss'?" Pinkie pouted. "Aww, and here you were making me feel all special."

"What did you do!?"

The mare chuckled. It was no different from any of her earlier laughter, yet something there chilled the humans' blood. "You boys really could learn a lesson from Dashie. She's not afraid to broaden her horizons, and as a pegasus, they're pretty broad as it is. That's why she went to the Revue in the first place. Refused to become a full member, conflict of interest, she said, but she still has a roaring good time whenever she comes by. Never got her up on stage on Audience Participation Night, though not for lack of trying. Really, the idea that I could twist Rainbow Dash's loyalties. That's comedy.

"But I digress. No, you two need to get out more because you don't appreciate the kind of quiet power running a club can give someone. You see, you guys allegedly provide law and justice, which sounds good in theory. In practice, it often consists of bullying defenseless folks you don't like. People may admire you in theory, but, again, once they see what they're actually getting, down goes public sentiment.

"Now, compare me. At first, anyone with a hint of sanity would stay as far away from me as possible. I mean, I even have demon skulls on my butt! Sure, they're smiling, but if that doesn't scream bad news, I don't know what does! But over time, they learn that while you offer 'justice,' whatever that is, I offer fun. Fun is hard to come by for the guildless. Always has been. May always will be, though I hope not. Point is, when justice threatens to take away fun, which do you think the people will support?"

The interrogator paled. "You told your regulars what you were doing."

Pinkie shook her head, still smiling. "Oh, I did more than that."


Three in the morning, the previous day

"Thank you! Thank you! You've been a wonderful audience!" Pinkie felt like she was going to die on her hooves, but she betrayed not a jot of it to the cheering crowd. "Before I let you all stagger back to your homes and explain those ogre-shaped lipstick stains to your wives, I've got a very important announcement! Dashie?"

Rainbow Dash climbed up to the stage, cringing at the disreputable crowd and their catcalls, wolf whistles, and pony proverbs. At least she was out of uniform. She didn't want to imagine what they'd do to someone in full Boros armor.

Pinkie threw a foreleg over her shoulders and drew her close. "Folks, this is Rainbow Dash, and she's one of my very best friends."

"I bet she is!" shouted a plump imp. A knife planted itself between his stubby legs, and the peanut gallery fell silent.

"Guys," Pinkie sighed, letting her scraps of costume fall back to conceal the knives in her garterbelts. "I love you all, but sometimes you're a bunch of screaming jackasses. No offense."

The donkey on drums did a rim shot. "None taken."

"Anyway, she's in trouble with THE LAW."

The crowd hit their cue. "LAW!" It was an audience-participation running gag, one of Pinkie's more popular comedic innovations.

"So, I'm going to the garrison to see if we can't sort this out like calm, rational sapients."

This got a few lukewarm claps.

"And if that doesn't work, we can try it Pinkie Pie style!"

The response was much better this time. Someone started up a chant of "PIN-KIE! PIN-KIE!" and soon the entire club was shaking with it.

Pinkie beamed. She knew she didn't need to ask them for help. If anything, she'd have to beg them to stay away.


"And so they told their friends, and they told their friends, and so on, and so on, until we got ourselves a good, old-fashioned unruly mob. And that's how Ravnica was made!"

"Hmmph." The interrogator's expression had barely shifted, seeming more annoyed than concerned. "Well, we can add inciting a riot to your rap sheet, then."

Pinkie giggled at this. "Oh, they're not rioters. They're concerned citizens protesting the wrongful imprisonment of a pillar of the community by cruel, overbearing authority figures."

"The courts will never buy that!" cried the runner.

The mare shook her head. "Adorable." She turned to his senior. "Do they come that naive, or do you have to polish their minds to get that kind of happy, shiny idealism?"

The young soldier drew his short sword and levelled it at the pony. "I should just kill you here. It'll leave them no reason to attack."

Pinkie stared at the blade for a moment. She began to shake. Any pride the runner might have gotten from this was spoiled moments later, as she burst into laughter. "Oh, Celestia!" she cried, pounding the floor. "Oh, Rakdos's flaming scythe! You're the worst peacekeeper ever!"

Blushing and sputtering, the youth surged towards the pony, only to be held back by an arm strong and steady as a newly laid foundation. "She's a bit right, lad. You'll just make a martyr of her. Besides, sometimes the Rakdos have nasty surprises for whoever kills 'em."

Pinkie shrugged. "Why should we have all the fun?"

"S...so, what do we do, sir?"

"...You said you wanted to file a complaint?"

"Coming down on Rainbow Dash just for visiting me isn't going to help anything and will lose you one of the most talented and ferociously loyal guild members you've had since Agrus Kos himself."

"Kos worked for three different guilds."

"And never stopped acting like a wojek." Pinkie contemplated the other end of her cell. It was blank, stuccoed wall, since the jail was underground. Still, it did lead outside the garrison. "Now, if I were you, I'd take that advice into account, let the nice pony go, let her defuse the crowd before it explodes, and not raze her club to the ground. That's probably the course of action that will minimize the risk of current and future criminal incidents in the local area. But, you know, that's just the demon-nag talking."

"How the hell do you know so much about law and order?" the runner blurted.

"Hell is how, young fella-me-lad." Pinkie nodded her thanks as the interrogator unlocked her cell, his stiff motions betraying his resentment. "They've got all the best tutors down there."


Dash contemplated her cider. "So, you're sure I can go back to your club?"

Pinkie knocked back her mug and slammed it down on the bar with a satisfied gasp before replying, "Is lava hot?"

"Wow. And you swear you didn't hurt anyone to do it? Not even where it doesn't show?"

"Cross my heart and hope to fry, stick an imp claw in my eye!"

"Good enough for me. Thanks, Pinkie."

They toasted one another. "Oh, don't thank me. Thank Rarity!"


Rakdos Guildpony BR
Creature — Pony Warrior
Unleash
Whenever Rakdos Guildpony or another Pony, Pegasus, or Unicorn you control dies, Rakdos Guildpony deals 1 damage to each opponent.
"A guild is like a herd. We'll mow you down before you can even blink."
1/1

Pinkie, Pony of Pandemonium 1BR
Legendary Creature — Pony Shaman
Unleash
(br)(br)(br), T: Other creatures you control get +X/+X until end of turn and attack this turn if able, where X is Pinkie, Pony of Pandemonium's power. Activate this ability only during your turn, before attackers are declared.
She wants you to have the time of your death.
2/1

Author's Notes:

If ever there was a song made for Cult of Rakdos vaudeville, it was Sadomasopedorobonecrobestiality.

Pinkie Pie is interesting in terms of where to put her in Ravnica. Her special talent, her goal in life, making as many people as happy as possible, is a fairly low priority for most guilds. Many of them have something to say about how the populous should live, but most are either silent on the matter of happiness or claim that it will assuredly come if one follows a specific ethos. Furthermore, in order to know everyone in town, she'd have to know everyone on the planet.
The result is a Pinkie who has learned to let the guests come to her rather than exhaust herself trying to send invitations to everyone in the world. One who knows that the customer is always right, even when what he or she wants is so wrong. One who exists to offer surcease from the stresses of the city by any means necessary.
In other words, the proprietress of a Rakdos diversion club. :pinkiehappy: Not one aware of the fourth wall, though. Not consciously, at least.

Also, yes, that's my headcanon for the featureless crotch phenomenon.

Also also, you're free to speculate about those pony proverbs. Here's a sample: "A hoof on the wing is worth two in the bush."

Next Chapter: Swift Justice Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 23 Minutes
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