Red Velvet Recalls @redvelvetrecalls - Tumblr Blog

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Wolves and Lambs: A Red Velvet Story, Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Serene Grace unsheathed her blades, levitating them all telekinetically, and stared coldly down at the changeling. The creature just snarled and shot a burst of acid-green energy at her. Quick as a whip, one of those three blades shot forward and intercepted the eldritch blast, deflecting it into the ceiling. The three blades rose into a formation, a wide orbit around Serene’s head, their points unerringly holding straight forward. “To the death, then.” Her voice was empty of inflection. She began to walk forward, each deliberate hoof-fall resounding off the walls.

The changeling stayed in its heap for a few seconds before suddenly making a dash up and to the side, relying now on its wings. Serene’s eyes blazed in response, and each of her swords shot forward, not quite simultaneously. The changeling’s aerial agility allowed it to dodge the first few thrusts, but a blade suddenly slid through a hole in its foreleg, and then it was all over. In just a heartbeat, both forelegs and one wing were pinned to a wall, spread-eagling the insectoid creature. It mewled piteously; the hole in its wing hadn’t been wide enough for the sabre, which had torn it further. Meanwhile, one of the blades pinning the forelegs was embedded edge-up, so its already injured foreleg was being cut deeper whenever the little monster put weight on it. It was obvious that the battle was over. “You and I have a long conversation ahead of us,” Serene murmured, and now her voice wasn’t so empty – there was a rising intensity to it.

“You’ll have to hurry,” I said, hiding my smile as Serene Grace whipped her helmeted head around to look at me. Blue eyes devoid of any visible pupils regarded me critically. “I’ve captured a changeling before… once. I wanted to see what made the little monsters tick, just as I imagine you do. The thrice-damned thing killed itself before I could do much, though.” Serene sized me up for a minute. Whenever she made eye contact, her jaw muscles tensed just a bit. I looked at the changeling again. The thing was writhing against its impromptu restraints, muttering something that sounded only vaguely like Equestrian, and that spoken through tinny, broken speakers. If I had to guess, it was psyching itself up against the pain of pulling itself free.

“Change of plans,” she finally said, turning away. “Lesser Gate of Saddylon.” This last phrase was apparently an incantation, because her horn flashed with her blue magical aura, and a small rift appeared in space next to her head. Out of it drifted a spear with a moon motif and a forked head. “I will grant you a warrior’s death, changeling.” The changeling went rigid and opened its mouth to protest, but it never got the chance. The spear made a dramatic slashing motion, and the changeling’s head lolled forward and toppled right off its neck. Serene Grace tucked her spear right back into its little extra-dimensional pocket, and turned back to me. “I am not like you,” she said, forcing the intensity back out of her voice.

“Of course not.” I leaned up against the window until my nose was practically brushing it, getting as close to the Vice Warden as I could. “You’re much easier to manipulate,” I added, nodding toward the dead changeling. The fury radiating off the Vice Warden was palpable. I sat back to enjoy it, but another unicorn entering the room attracted my attention.

“Dead, I see. Ah well. Questioning would have been useful, but it’s your prison, I suppose…” Alias poked gingerly at the changeling’s head. “I can’t stay mad at anypony who would do this to one of the little bugs. You’re dismissed, Vice Warden.”

“I outrank you here,” Serene Grace said adamantly, but the fact that she was retrieving her blades and cleaning changeling ichor off them with her magic indicated that she was, in fact, ready to leave. I couldn’t help but think she might be eager to get away from me before I ruffled her fetlocks anymore.

“I have something to discuss with our friend Red Velvet here.” Alias leaned in toward Serene’s ear conspiratorially, and stage whispered, “He’s not going to like it.” Serene paused for a moment to absorb that, took a deep breath, and walked from the room, her calm completely restored. She paused only to order the spellcasting wards back up on her way out. “So, Red, thanks for all your help,” Alias said, casually inspecting a hoof. She sure was chipper when she knew something I didn’t. “I trust you enjoyed your dinner tonight?”

“I did,” I said, not letting annoyance seep into my voice. “I’ll enjoy the servants’ food even more, though, assuming the bad news you’re bringing me doesn’t have to do with that?”

“Oh, that? No, no. You’ll be getting what the guards get from now on, instead of what the prisoners get. It’s a little better-tasting, higher in lean proteins, and a bigger portion, too. No, actually, I wanted to explain that I’m not just thanking you for your help with the changeling.” I waited for her to continue, but she just stared at me like a cat at a mouse.

“Fine,” I said, quirking an eyebrow. “I’ll bite. What else did I help you with? I’d so dread to know I was giving you assistance for free.”

“Well, as you’ll recall, I’ve been reading your journal entries to ensure nothing dangerous to Equestria is posted. Imagine my surprise when you posted valuable military intelligence! Thanks to all your help, Red… the Duskraptors will be merely an unpleasant memory in a matter of months.”

Okay… I must admit, that caught me off-guard. “What have I said about the Duskraptors that wasn’t twenty-year-old information?”

“Nothing.” Alias could no longer contain her smirk. “But we didn’t know a lot of it. The fact that the whole clan’s been taking the Draft this whole time… that explains an awful lot. Their strength, their speed, their brutality… the regularity with which they attack other griffon clans… it all fits together now. And now the Guard can make informed decisions with their tactics – maneuvers to force the Duskraptors away from other griffons, alchemical-dispelling spells from our unicorns… you’d be surprised how much better we’re doing against them. “

“You’re all on a fool’s errand,” I snapped. “Kier will-“

“Kier is dead.”

The room seemed to float away from me for a minute. It was all I could do to keep my balance. “…What?!”

That damned smirk was practically too wide for her face now. “He was big and fast, Red, but he wasn’t immortal. Get over it.” She sauntered out of the prison. “So… again, thanks for all your help. You’ve been a peach. Ta.”

---

That evening was over a year ago, now, and I blame it partially for the decline in my posting of my memoirs. I’ve spent many an evening since then mulling it over. Why should I worry about what happens to the Duskraptors now? We helped each other out twenty years ago. More, even. I don’t owe them anything. Certainly not now. I wonder if what I’m feeling is guilt. I’m supposed to be more or less immune to guilt. If I can’t feel love or friendship, it seems unfair that I should be burdened with guilt or shame.

It matters not. I’m their blood brother. And in a way, I am responsible – I dealt them their arms, and now I’ve shown Canterlot the answer to those weapons. If I were to help the Duskraptors somehow, it would strike a major blow to the Princess, and that would be a pleasing end unto itself.

I have to make things right.

#RedVelvetPony #wolves and lambs #Side Story #Serene Grace #alias

Case File: Upendi

Name: Upendi (family name unknown)

Age: 15

Gender: Male

Race: Zebra/pony hybrid

Summary: Upendi is a criminally insane young stallion and has earned himself a life sentence without parole. Further study was required.

Physical: Upendi suffers from complete melanism, rendering his skin, hair, fur, irises, and even sclera black. The only white part parts of his body are his teeth and cutie mark (three white puzzle pieces; see below). His health has been on decline since before his entry to prison; prison medical services have recently determined that he has stage III gastric cancer, which he has refused all treatment for. Cause unknown.

History: Upendi is one of the happiest ponies in the prison, by all accounts. In fact, sometimes he bursts out laughing even in periods of complete silence, lost in his own fantasies. From what he tells me (and his reports are frighteningly inconsistent), he has almost always been a happy and carefree pony. Born to an earth pony sociologist in the Southern continent and the zebra she fell in love with, the two were planning on raising him in her father’s home village, but left and raised him on the road, as his melanism was taken by his tribe as a sign of ill fortune. They always taught him that his appearance was beautiful, and he loved his life of travel… until one day, about two years ago, when Upendi’s Cutie Mark appeared and set off his psychosis.

Here is where his story suddenly coheres. He was travelling through Equestria for a year, learning sociology from his mother, and after some sort of personal breakthrough regarding equine nature, he found himself with a Cutie Mark of eight black-silhouetted white puzzle pieces, fitting together to form a complete puzzle. Most ponies are thrilled to receive their Cutie Marks, but Upendi, who had grown to prize his black coat, was horrified. He had to be hospitalized after a sudden period of self-harm, trying to ‘carve it off’. After traditional Equestrian therapy didn’t speed his recovery, his father began having private discussions with his son. Upendi once again grows infuriatingly vague and inconsistent over the content of these talks, but the records show he was released after nearly six months. His parents were overjoyed, and the three of them made plans to continue their travels. They barely made it out of town before Upendi drew his parents away from each other and killed both of them, and ate their Cutie Marks. And several other parts of them. Conjecture suggests Upendi fatally misinterpreted advice his father gave him, although this feels incorrect. Nothing known of Upendi’s father suggests involvement in the parts of zebra culture that would have considered this type of behavior anything other than horrendous, but what I know of him is very limited.

Upendi’s hypothesis, to the extent that he had one, seems to have been validated, because two of the puzzle pieces disappeared from his Cutie Mark. He took that as a hint that he was supposed to “compleat” himself again, at least according to his own words during the trial. Before he was caught, he repeated his behavior with three other ponies, choosing targets indiscriminately so long as they had Cutie Marks. Although Upendi is not particularly strong nor fast, his coloring makes him extremely stealthy, and he has a predator’s sense for where to attack ponies in order to kill them quickly. When I asked if he would kill me, given the chance, he asked in return whether I would be one of the three closest ponies to him (and he asked whether I thought his Cutie Mark would count the twins as one or two ponies).

Diagnosis: As mentioned above, Upendi suffered a psychotic break regarding his Cutie Mark. He regards it as a blemish that he believes he can correct by slaying ponies and eating their Cutie Marks (the fact that his own Cutie Mark has supported this theory raises the possibility that psychotic cannibalism is, in fact, his special talent). Connected to this is an obsession with his appearance and the color black. He has escapist tendencies, but considering his circumstances those wouldn’t be unexpected. The laughter suggests some kind of coping mechanism; it’s unlikely he’s recognized the death of his parents to the extent where he has grieved for them. Upendi claims that they’re a part of him now, as are the other three ponies he slew. This appears to be a superstition, not a mental sickness. Upendi’s conviction is, objectively speaking, justified, as he is unlikely to stop being a menace to society until he has fully eradicated his Cutie Mark in a way that works for him. Worse, this would leave him without a Cutie Mark, suggesting the possibility that another one would appear, and he would take… similar corrective measures.

For personal reasons, I decline to recommend any treatment plan.

- Red Velvet

OOC Announcement

11 days from now is the 2nd anniversary of this blog. On that day, I'm going to be moving to a new address on Tumblr. Long has this blog been a mere subordinate to my mod blog. I'd like to be able to ask other ponies questions as Red Velvet, for example.

I know I haven't been very active for the latter half of this blog's history, for personal reasons I won't bother you all with. But this moving to a different page will coincide with a bit of a new direction for the blog. I'm going to be skipping a bit to the parts of Red's story I'm most excited to write, that should help motivate me. I'm not going to be moving posts over from this blog, and this blog will stay open, primarily as an archive.

Stay tuned for further updates! The new blog should be up on this one's second anniversary, the 26th. And thank you to all my followers for your patience!

#OOC #Blog Stuff #Moving #New Blog

So... the nastiest prison wing in Canterlot, right under the princesses' noses, and you're going to break out? How is that going to work, again?

Oh, we couldn’t possibly reveal our secret plans. If the wrong eyes were even to glance at my blog, all our dreams of tasting freedom would be dashed to bits. However, I think it would be remiss of me not to remind everypony exactly what my fellow inmates and I are up against. Perhaps this exhaustive list of obstacles will even allow you to guess at how we’ll conduct our escape.

- We are all locked behind sheets of reinforced glass, in cells carved of solid stone on every other side. Our cell doors are locked, and the guards have the keys. There are slots to pass food trays through, far too narrow for a pony, so they seldom have to use the doors.

- The wing of the prison we’re in has anti-spellcasting countermeasures which must be manually switched off from the guardpost at the wing’s entrance. The more powerful prisoners have extra countermeasures, such as a lead sheet which can be lowered in front of the twins’ cell in case they start pouring out dangerous magical radiation (again).

- The guardpost is separated from the wing by a magical force field that only allows one-way passage unless one is wearing a special amulet, which only staff members carry. All these magical countermeasures are powered by the regular motion of the sun and moon, and thus never run out of charge.

- The prison is well-staffed with guards. Two stand at the guardpost at all times. Most of the grunts are earth ponies and pegasi, and some of the officers are very talented unicorns, led by Warden Time Out and his ruthless enforcer, Vice Warden Serene Grace.

- Upstairs from the guardpost are three more guardposts, marking the dungeon’s medium-security and minimum-security wings and its entrance, respectively. More guards, dozens or hundreds more prisoners of dubious loyalty who are (by necessity) not in on our plan.

- Past the final guardpost, we reach the rear of the Royal Palace’s first floor. At this point, any remaining prison guards would be joined by the princesses’ royal guards - and worse, Princesses Celestia and Luna themselves may be tempted to step in, especially since the alternative would be us escaping into the streets of Canterlot. Wing Power says the palace has lockdown procedures which may be implemented if we get this far, barring most of the entrances magically.

- Also possibly stationed in the palace is Alias, who originally arrested me and has since been made Celestia’s spymaster. A shapeshifting unicorn who had me on the ropes in a pitched fight when I was at my very best, and I’ve seen her recently enough to know she’s aged better than I.

- Finally, even an escape into the streets of Canterlot would not mean safety, since we’d be distinctive-looking fugitives in the capitol city and the targets of a ponyhunt.

That, I believe, is it. Who stands against these obstacles? A crippled pegasus, an even more crippled unicorn, an ill earth pony, an ill halfbreed zebra, a rage-blinded bull, a conjoined pair of unicorns (with one complete horn between them), and a pegasus who’s almost too much of a racist to function. Discord help us all.

How did you get your computer back from those twins?

I asked.

The only difficult part was knowing when to ask. It wasn't when I was first well enough to begin some light typing again; that was when the two of them were still riding the initial high of a hijacked blog. I opted instead for after they insulted the wrong reader and he attacked them in their cells. They were a lot more eager to swear off the blog after that. I needed only wait for security to calm down enough that they could make the transfer without looking suspicious. When they set off the anti-magic wards a couple of days after Smiling's attack, it was deemed "involuntary magical thrashing" by the guards - something they had done in their sleep.

Come to think of it, Black Egg may have gotten an awful lot done over the years that way. I'm fairly certain reports in the twins' official personnel files will mention violent dreams, and while that may be technically true, I don't think that 'magical thrashing' was ever involuntary. I must remember not to underestimate those two.

Twins condition... reveal...

Black Egg and White Snow are quite well, actually. They're coming off their liquid diets tomorrow. The two of them have always been in unusually good physical health considering their condition, so I'm not surprised. It's been a lot quieter in here, but they've quickly returned to high spirits, no doubt because of the season.

Still, I have no doubt that the two learned some humility thanks to your actions, and I have to thank you for that. We're a proud herd down here, most of us, and it was good to have some of us put in our place, even temporarily. You've also proven a way around all the magical wards - by using magic that was foreign to their designers. That's... actually a little inconvenient for us. We weren't planning on exploiting that particular loophole, but all the same, it's exasperating to deal with the guards on high alert, looking for other ways we might break out...

What kinds of nicknames did the media give you when you were first caught?

Hm, this question's been in my inbox for a while. My apologies for not answering earlier, but... well...

The papers came up with many fascinating names for me, most of which didn't stick. "Psycho Psychologist!" was probably the most popular; ponies do love their alliteration. "Scare-apist" was in the same vein and didn't go over as well. Neither did "Shiv Shrink," although I liked it. "Black Sheep White Pony Paints Canterlot Red with Blood" was a good headline. When it came out that the victims' blood had been drained, I was the "Vampire Therapist" for a while. The cannibal names were numerous, although most of them came later on. "Cannibal Lecture," "Flesh-Eating Psychologist," "Horse-Eating Head-Shrinker," "Doctor Cannibal," "Cannibal, Ph. D," and others along those lines.

Honestly, though, names hold no more power than what you give them. The Stonetalon Griffons called me "Landwalker." Fleetwings called me "Bambi." But at the end of the day, I'm always Red Velvet.

The Prodigal Son Returns

...so to speak. Yes, I'm back, my little ponies. Have you missed me? I spent months in a very sorry state; luckily, much of it was in the blissful grasp of oblivion. I'm back now, though. I do wish I could say I was better than ever, but the truth is quite the opposite. Considering I had a stroke that left me comatose, I got off easily, but I feel weaker than ever, and my vision's been a little iffy lately. It goes for minutes at a time, some days.

I see the brothers have been keeping you, my faithful readers, entertained. It's amazing how they can be so smart and yet so stupid. Smart enough to steal my computer and hack my account under everypony's noses, and yet stupid enough to provoke Smiling Guard. You'll never catch me disrespecting my readership like that.

Speaking of my readership, the boys proved something very interesting to me - my blog is no longer being watched by Alias or any other guard. Well, that being the case, I may as well come clean with my readers - we're planning an escape. Not today, not tomorrow... we're simply waiting for an opportunity to present itself. And by "we," I mean essentially the entire wing. Are you surprised? Don't be. All of our sentences are for life without the possibility of parole. If we don't try to escape...

we have nothing to live for.

#RedVelvetPony #red velvet #status update #Hearth's warming eve #Story

Status Update

Ow.

Okay, fuck this. We're done, seriously. That guy was cheating. Somehow. Great blizzard, my neck is killing me...

#Black Egg and White Snow #RedVelvetPony #status update

the-smiling-guard

A visit

They are safe, so very safe down here in the darkness so deep below the ground. Safe, locked away in that prison each one having an individual cell. Except the twins, only major surgery could separate those two and there is no guarantee of survival. Just another day, get the others angry provoke reaction feed on their anger and resentment. Changelings almost, they crave change. A change into something that will spread winter eternal, a change from what they are to accomplish they took the lives of others. Just another day, the guards are outside the holding cell area guarding the entrance. Not in the mood for the antics of the prisoners, just a little break. They just need a little time to rest, just a soft clunk of heads banging together. A pair of sighs then the sound of two bodies slumping to the floor. Does this get the attention of those inside? Yes it does, what is going on. Another changeling perhaps, another break in, or attempted jail break?

What of the anti magic wards, or the one way barrier? Behind that thick wooden door a prisoner stirs, unseen but still heard. Then in comes a strange figure, covered from head to plot by a dirty brown tattered robe. Only the front legs are visible bound in equally dirty brown strips of cloth. Then there is that mask it wears to hide the face. The right side is unmarked pure white, but the left side is painted. There is a large sloppy dot that marks the eye, and a smile painted that gives that sense of unease. Around the room it goes, looking into each cell. They linger longest in front of the cell with the smiling zebra before moving on. Coming to the cell of the twins, the others are already anxious. Questioning the figure they get no response from it. Standing still for a moment it begins to speak, the words choppy trailing off. In fact they even sound like they are just words taken from random sentences then strung together.

Reasons, killing, why, standards, higher, familiar words spoken to them. Realization begins to dawn, this is none other than the infamous Smiling Guard it appears! Oh what an honor to meet this deranged figure, what a chance to see if they can rile him up. Mocking and tormenting him, restating the reasons why they do what they do. Trying to get a reaction out of him, oddly though there is nothing. He just keeps muttering, swaying back and forth the mask tapping against the bullet proof glass of their cell wall. In fact the harder they try to get a reaction out of him, any kind of reaction the harder he hits the glass. It makes a soft tink sound, they get excited when he draws his head back, way back. Maybe the mask will break, maybe the glass will crack, or maybe he will just knock himself out. They wait for the tink noise, but it never comes. Instead there is just the sound of two heads slamming against the back wall of their cell.

How did he do that? Right through the glass wall like it was nothing. There is a grip about the necks of White Snow and Black Egg. Fingers have emerged from between the bandages, thumb, pointer and ring. Thick clenching fingers that grasp their throats, squeezing tighter and tighter there is no air. All the while this thing is mumbling something. The only sounds they can make out is their gasping chokes and the creak of vertebrae straining under intense pressure. That mask stares at them blankly, it is putting off no emotion. Smiling is holding them up off the ground legs kick feebly at the robed body but nothing seems to phase it. Until it jerks suddenly, vision fading, so weak, Smiling jerks several more times the grasp lessens. Precious air, the robe is dissolving from the bottom up. Burning away like a leaf upon an ember, but something else is happening. It is speaking, so very clearly.

“We here at this organization hold ourselves to a higher standard. When we take the lives of others it is for a greater purpose, a life has meaning it has value and to take that is to acknowledge this. Your application has been found wanting, just for kicks is not a valid enough reason. You have been judged and found wanting, but fear not your death will have purpose. An example to those that apply, now savior these last moments for the last thing you shall ever hear is the sound of your own neck snapping. And the last thing you will see is my smiling face…” The robe burns away, the bandaged legs burn away as well leaving only the mask floating in the air. With the last of the robe burned away the unicorn brothers fall to the ground no longer held aloft, gasping and choking they will survive. Speaking will be difficult, swallowing even more so. A liquid diet is going to be needed, the guards with long spears and pole arms maneuver their weapons to drag the mask out of the cell. It fell with a clattering clanking upon the floor, rocking back and forth that singular eye remained transfixed on the pair. Secure this wing immediately! I want to know what the Hell this thing was and how it got in here! These are the last things that are heard by the brothers before darkness claims them.

redvelvetrecalls

...

((OOC: Looks like Smiling didn't take the brothers' mockery lying down. Most ponies can't get in to the cells Red Velvet and the others are kept in, but Smiling Guard isn't most ponies... or really a pony at all, anymore. Stay tuned!))

#Redvelvetpony #Black Egg and White Snow #The Smiling Guard #Story #Smiling

No? Oh dear. In that case we have the problem of a burnt-out orphanage, 7 dead foals and a lynch mob. We should probably get moving before they find us, they do seem to be very angry, we can taste it from here. Dear twins, we shall leave you to your prison, in more ways than one it seems.

Yes, yes, I'm sure that's true. We'll believe it when we see the papers.

In the meantime, yeah, feel free to get a move on. I do hear company approaching. Better hide the laptop before a guard spots it. Hmm... it's not meal time or the guards' shift change. What could be going on?

An unexpected guest? Oh, boy, oh boy. We don't often get to entertain...

Anything true about the myth that psychopaths in jail got a huge female fanbase? Wing Power not included, who got most fans outside of jail?

Hah. Probably Red, thanks to the fact that he started this blog. He had a really exciting trial, too, as I understand it.

Of course, we did our best to spread our message at our trial, but we never found out if we influenced any other ponies... that orphan-hating anon notwithstanding. A lot of the ponies here had interesting trials in their own day, although Ember Heart's was just sad. She wasn't conscious for most of it.

Anyway, let Velvet have his fawning fillies. We have no use for fan adoration in here - in fact, it may be actively harmful to us.

Do list up who you like the most and who you like the least among you prison wing buddies, my little doves of chaos.

Let's see... in order from most hated to most liked...

- Upendi. That little half-zebra twit talks like a guru. He thinks he has everything about life all figured out. Doesn't change the fact that he's in jail with us, but the foal is totally unshakeable. His anger output is basically zero, and his despair output isn't much better. Whenver we do sense some pain in him, our words prove not to be enough to make it worse for him.

- The Cell 2 Prisoner. Okay, so this guy's angry a fair amount of the time, and occasionally even sad, but he's another one who can't be affected by us. The language barrier is just too significant, especially since we can't see each other either. He may not even know we exist, and to be frank, I'm really not okay with that.

- Smash the bull. Again, this guy's anger output is pretty much unaffected by anything we do, aside from maybe waking him from a nap. It's constant rage, but... it's not real, you know? He's only angry because his brain chemistry is shot to hay. It's like the artificial sweetener of anger. It tastes superficially like the real thing, but it's got no actual value.

- Ember Heart. Now we're getting into ponies we really don't mind at all. Ember is angry at the whole wide world, and she's in so much physical pain that she'll let that anger fester in her gut for a good, long time before acting on it, waiting until she just doesn't care about the pain anymore. It's good, fulfilling stuff. We just don't get along with her personally. It's a fire-and-ice thing, I think. She doesn't get our humor, we don't get maximum enjoyment from riling her up, so on and so forth.

- Wing Power. Oh, poor, foolish Wing Power. What a perfect little pawn. Crystallized racism in the form of a leader with enough charisma to spread those beliefs. He's the real package. Most days he refuses to talk to us, though. Plus he's... well, he's dangerous. To us, I mean. If we all ever broke out of this prison, he might be honorable enough to let ponies like Red Velvet go free, but he knows we represent as much of a threat to pegasi as we do to earth ponies or unicorns. He would stab us in the flanks at the first opportunity. And that's just cold, even for us.

- Red is actually our second favorite cellmate. It's not because of his emotions, either. I mean, sure, even a sociopath feels anger and sadness, at least short term, but his emotions are shallow. If Smash's anger is like artificial sweetener, Red's is like eating real food when you have a cold, or drinking flat soda. It's just not quite what you're used to. But Red's the best verbal sparring partner down here, he's smart, and he's not afraid of us. When we want to have an actual civil conversation with somepony (and sometimes we do), he's the guy. Plus, sometimes we do a book club thing.

- But poor little Day Late is our favorite. So doubting of herself... so damaged... and far too eager to put trust in others, like Red, Wing Power, or even us. You'd think she'd know better, but that pony never learns. The guards know we could make her hurt herself if we worked at it enough, especially without Red taking pity on her. The day after he had his little emergency, they put her on suicide watch, just in case. But they needn't have worried. That's not the anger we're working right now... I'm more interested in her anger. This mare's racked up a higher body count than any of us, don't forget, with just one well-placed bottle of poison. I think she's got a monster inside of her just like anypony else in the one-way-wing... it's just buried a little deeper. It'll have to be nourished carefully.

If we did terrible things, like say, burn down this very flammable orphanage in the middle of the night while all the foals are inside, but did in your names so all the hatred goes to you, would that be cool? Your mission is beautiful and we want to help in any way we can. Also the entire place is doused in the most flammable stuff we could find and it would be a waste to let the hate from that act go to ponies as unworthy as ourselves.

What's your angle?

Don't play dumb with us. When a pony is offering you something too good to be true, it is. We've made this mistake before, don't think we'll fall for it again. Or are you mocking us? Sarcasm doesn't translate well over the internet, you know.

Maybe they're just crazy.

Nopony is "just crazy," brother. For every word, there is a thought behind it. For every effect, a cause. It's part of the Ars Gelum, remember? Every action has a reaction, every beginning, an end.