Once his heart had finally stopped trying to force its way out of his chest, Haxail got to work. Ignoring the burning smell now beginning to perforate through the room, he started to stuff everything of use into a saddlebag he had found buried under the wreckage of the wall, his wing now agonizingly painful as the adrenaline rush deserted him. Kitchens are very useful deposits of sharp things, and he grabbed mouthfuls of knives, piling them up in the bag. Bread knife? Yes. Cleaver? Most definitely. Whisk? Probably. Haxail then spent 30 minutes trying to put his feather-blades back into his wing with his mouth. Not easy when, if you slip, the razor-sharp object in your mouth would cut your tongue out.
After the kitchen had been well and truly raided of basically everything with a sharp edge, Haxail left by the back entrance, and made his way to Auxilla, still leaking blood out of his wing. Auxilla, in the true fashion of all sidekicks everywhere, saw his wing and immediately said, "Sweet Celestia, are you all right?"
She pressed her hoof against the injury, and recoiled as a fresh wave of blood spurted out. "Ew," she said. Haxail rolled his eyes. "And what's that an the saddlebag?!"
"Icing."
"Red icing? And I'm pretty sure icing doesn't coagulate like that."
"It's super special Pinkie Brand red icing that she helped me make."
Auxilla pulled a face, as if she expected an assassin to come back dressed in full tuxedo and not have a single injury. "That wing wound looks pretty bad, though; it shouldn't be bleeding that much."
"Can you do anything about it?"
"Yes, I think I know a plant that can help with that."
She trotted off into the forest, leaving Haxail to consider his next move. Maybe he should make a progress report to Celestia? Probably wouldn't be that glamorous:
Dear Princess Celestia,
Today I learnt that stuffing a certain pink pony into a 300C oven and roasting her alive like a furry turkey really yields good results insofar as making sure she never opposes your rule again.
Your faithful murderer,
Haxail.
P.S: Tell Calcula she's still a bitch.
And as for his next target, he needed to choose quickly, and get the job done. He may have a day at most before ponies uncover Pinkie's... whereabouts. He glanced back at the bakery, and heard a pony say, "Miss Pinkie? It's Rob from the Fire Safety Regulators, I'm here to check the ovens..."
O.K, not much time at all.
Auxilla returned carrying a mouthful of assorted herbs and plants, which she dumped at her hooves. "Rub these on the wound," she commanded.
"Why?" asked Haxail, not really anxious to comply. Some of those plants had little barbs on and one appeared to be oozing a blue, luminous liquid.
"Just do it."
Haxail sighed, grabbed a load of fauna in his mouth and pressed it to the still-bleeding wound. It stung, but after he lifted the plants the wound had already formed a scab and was on its way to a full recovery.
"Oh, so you ARE a doctor," Haxail said, "That's what your Cutie Mark is, right?"
"Huh? No," Auxilla replied, confused.
"It's a bandage, isn't it?"
"No, it's a strip of tape."
Haxail's eyes blanked. "Wut."
"Yeah," Auxilla continued, "My Cutie Mark is tape."
"Tape? TAPE? Tape is your special talent?"
"Certainly not!" Auxilla said, looking offended.
"Then what is your talent?"
"That is non of your business, my good sir."
Horrible images filled Haxail's mind as to what exactly Auxilla was capable of with a strip of tape. However, he disbanded the ghastly thoughts with difficulty and asked, "So... who's next?"
"I was thinking you could take Fluttershy next."
Haxail groaned. He was NOT looking forward to this.
"What's the problem?"
"C'mon, Fluttershy? She's the sweetest thing alive!"
"Haxail, you kill ponies for a living. And you're getting emotional? Plus, she isn't as sweet as you might think. You're not the only assassin to go after the Mane 6."
"Really? I'm pretty sure I was Celestia's fall-back option. Last resort."
"Yes, but the Mane 6 have been around for a long, long time; independent killers went after them in hope of getting some kind of reward from Celestia. The last one to try Fluttershy... well, she basically fed him legs first into a pit full of starved badgers."
"Starved badgers?!"
"Honey badgers."
Haxail felt a very personal kind of fear.
"Well, let's get going," Auxilla said, "You might be able to kill her by nightfall if you start now."
They trotted down the streets of Ponyville, and approached the Everfree Forest. "I'll go and check out her house," Haxail whispered. It was quiet near the forest, and the risk of being heard was much greater. "There's no lights on, so she might be sleeping."
He slowly came up to her door, and knocked.
"Hello?"
There was no answer.
"Fluttershy? Heeellooooo?"
Nopony replied. Haxail looked inside the window of the house, but couldn't see anything at all.
He returned to where Auxilla was waiting, and said, "I've no idea where she is; she's certainly not at home."
"Actually, I may have an idea as to her whereabouts..."
Auxilla pointed to the Everfree Forest. Haxail paled.
"You mean we have to go in there?!"
"No, of course not," smiled Auxilla.
"Thank Celestia!"
"You have to go in there."
There was a very long silence.
"Auxilla?" asked Haxail.
"Yes?"
"You're next on the list."
Haxail walked into the Everfree Forest, shaking slightly, and not just from the cool of the shade the trees cast. It was deathly silent, save for the occasional rustle of an unidentified animal moving in the undergrowth. He patted the saddlebag for reassurance. The sun was beginning to set, and so he quickened his pace, keeping to the well-worn path. The night whispered. The air seemed to be full of... things.
Eventually, his nerves in tatters, Haxail reached a small cottage, hung with macabre masks from some foreign land. He strained, and heard voices inside. Looking through the window, he saw a yellow pegasus mare chatting idly to some zebra. No wonder he had to strain to hear; the buttery pegasus was speaking in a voice so high-pitched and quiet, bats probably thought her voice was high. By not making any sound AT ALL, Haxail just about picked out what was being said.
"So, anyway Zachora, I don't think the badgers will work the second time around. I promised the Canterlot Zoo I wouldn't allow them to get a taste for pony flesh."
"Do not worry, my dear Fluttershy! I have a potion to make sure assassins die."
"Oh, thanks so much! What should I do with it?"
"Feed this to your pets, twice every day, and they'll become fierce to keep killers at bay."
Waitwaitwaitwaitwait, thought Haxail. Zachora? Awful rhyming speech? Could this psychotic zebra be descended from Zecora?! Master shaman of the Striped Assassins and inventor of the Poison Joke Toxin Mark IX? AWESOME!
"What was that noise?" Fluttershy squeaked, as they both went silent. Haxail's little habit of yelling his thoughts out loud on occasion was not doing him any favours.
Haxail knew he would lose the element of surprise, and so with style and grace crashed through the window and landed in the middle of the floor, a hefty cleaver drawn.
"THE GLASS IS EVERYWHERE!" he shrieked as small fragments lacerated his legs.
Both Zachora and Fluttershy stared in disbelief. There was a silence so awkward it was firmly asked to leave by the Universe in general. Zachora recovered first and screamed: "Run, Fluttershy! Save yourself! I'll hold off this killer, you run and get help!"
Haxail lobbed the cleaver, but Fluttershy was already through the door. It thudded into the wood, vibrating gently.
Zachora grinned and said, "It's just you and me, you cowardly prick. I'm gonna slice open your throat and cut off your-"
"Dude, no!"
Zachora didn't bother to reply this time, and instead grabbed and random potion bottle and chucked it across the room. Haxail hurriedly backed up and it splash onto the floor in front of him. The luminous green liquid inside began to melt a hole in the floor. It steamed slightly.
Haxail flung the saddlebag to the side and pulled out a bread knife at random and flew across the room at Zachora. Slashing it through the air. Zachora suddenly dissolved into smoke, and Haxail went straight through him, crashing into a very solid cupboard, sending miscellaneous concoctions spewing in all directions, melting into any surface they came in contact with. Haxail grabbed a few more of the unopened bottles and again threw them at Zachora's stripy face, and again he dissolved into smoke causing the bottles to hit the wall and make slopping sounds.
"By Celestia's flanks, stay STILL!" screamed Haxail, as two fish-filleting knives, a potato peeler and a whisk were hurled at Zachora, only to pass through his body as if it weren't there.
"I trained for years to learn the ways of the smoke! Your efforts are futile, and your attacks are a joke!"
"These rhymes get worse and worse, Zachora."
Zachora vanished properly this time. The room filled with an acrid mist and Zachora's laughter echoed slightly. Haxail's eyes burnt and teared up, obscuring his vision, but that didn't really matter; it was so smoky it was impossible to see anyway. He tried desperately to pick out movement. He felt a slight change in air, right behind him. He swung and flailed his hooves wildly in the direction of Zachora, who had managed to materialize almost on top of Haxail, and was holding a knife. Haxail gave up trying to stab smoke, and Zachora whispered something about badgers in his ears. Haxail screeched and span in circles, seizing another knife and thrashing around.
The mist cleared, and Haxail stared at Zachora, who grinned.
"Think you can escape by running in circles? I..."
Zachora faltered.
"Circles... circles..."
His jaw dropped.
"Oh Celestia, whyadajnksfhnklbg?!"
His mouth began to froth, and the saliva quickly turned red as blood flowed from his mouth, eyes and even his ears. Zachora collapsed to the ground, shaking violently. Haxail stood dumbfounded as he watched the zebra convulse in a pool of his own blood and spit. Finally, Zachora's spasms became weaker and weaker, until his movements stopped. Permanently.
Haxail turned and barrelled out the room, leaving the door off its hinges, and went at full speed through the forest, ignoring the strange things that lurked in its depths.
"Gotta... stop... Fluttershy..." he said to himself, breathing heavily from the sudden burst of speed.
He flew out the forest entrance, and stopped suddenly. Something was going on at Fluttershy's house. Something awkard.
Notes: In case you were wondering what that bit with Zachora was, he couldn't finish a rhyme, and so violently internally haemorrhaged. Funfunfunfunfunfun! Yeah, that bit was horrifically written. Hope you're enjoying the story so far; Fluttershy gets massacred next chapter! Please show your support and keep those reviews coming!