Trouble, Latch?

Red was the color of love — the color of passion.

She had her on the run for the past few hours now. The chase spanned from the Canterlot train station to the alleyways of the lower quarter. She knew Dream wasn’t as fit as she was, but somehow kept one step ahead despite that. It didn’t take much effort to grease a palm to find out where she was, or to convince someone that she’s actually a villain on the rise. Nopony liked a villain, especially in Canterlot.

Red was the color of blood, drawn by violence.

“I know you’re here, Dream! You have nowhere else to go!” Latch cried out, huffing and seething. That bitch had done so much to her without her realizing. Hypnotized into being her slave, being none the wiser of it, and even going utterly blank for days on end thanks to her. Just what even was she, if not a villain at this point?

No one would believe her should she try and bring Dream as prisoner to the court of Canterlot. She’d be proclaimed a mad mare for thinking a lone unicorn would be trying to act against the crown. She’d be thrown into a dungeon for her irrational actions, and Dream would go free. None of that could be allowed to come to pass. Dream couldn’t be allowed to take over Equestria.

Latch dragged the flat end of her sword against the stone, letting the grinding echo down the alleyway, closer and closer towards Dream. She had nowhere to hide at this point. The wall above was too high for her to reach without focus, and the exit of the alley was too far behind Latch to reach. Latch knew this well, and took her time. She was going to end this problem permanently, and in her own way.

Swiping her blade off the stone with a long [i]shing[/i] that carried farther than necessary, Latch rubbed the flat end of her sword against her hand. She was nearing the turnoff that led deeper into the alley. She’d already past several trashcans and dumpsters thus far, even a homeless pony who’d kept to himself upon seeing the fury behind Latch’s eyes.

Red was the color of anger — of hatred and fury…

“It’s over, Dream,” Latch said more quietly, no longer letting her voice carry deeper. “You’re not going to be one to make it out of this today. You’re not going to take over Equestria.”

Raising her blade above up alongside her, Latch felt her heart racing as she was rounding the bend. She kicked off the cobble, breaking into a run as she rounded the turn. A lone dumpster was towards the end. Dream stood against the back wall, now patient with a smug grin on her face. Closer and closer was the distance closed. Her grip on her short sword tightened, and she visualized plunging the blade straight through Dream’s abdomen.

Twenty meters. Fifteen, ten, five…

“Wake up, Slave,” Dream said calmly.

Latch felt herself slow to a crawl, lowering her weapon to her side and holding it limply. The world… it became fuzzy to her. A curtain was drawn over her thoughts, making it difficult to remember why she was here to begin with, and why she was standing before her Mistress, weapon in hand. Her eyes felt a bit heavy, but something felt wrong about this situation… something seemed wrong about it.

“Mistress- I…” Latch held the side of her head with her free hand, half raising her sword in confusion. “What am I doing here with you?” She asked, trying hard to make sense of things. “What’s going on?”

“Tut-tut, don’t you remember, Slave?” Dream asked, cocking her head as she slowly stepped away from the wall.

From what little light reached the alley, sunlight reflected off the shiny apparel that the unicorn wore. Black, grey, and red. Every last centimeter of the outfit was made of latex, a staple for the Mistress’ fashion.

“You came to meet me here in the alley for something… special, something I know you’ll love, and find absolutely life-changing — more than being one of my more prized slaves,” Dream explained as she walked around the earth pony. There was a brief jingle, the sound of chain clattering about as Dream ran her finger along the collar of Latch’s armor.

“I-… I did?”

“Yes, yes you did, Slave,” Dream replied quickly. “I’m proud that you arrived, but there was no need for your weapon. I’m sure the peasant near the entrance of the alley said that there was some menacing pony down this way, didn’t he?”

Latch found herself nodding slowly… the memory was vague, almost unclear, but the homeless pony did say someone of Dream’s description went down this way. That had to be true… her Mistress did say that it was, and she herself did remember the pony saying such a thing. It had to be true, right?

“Y-yeah… I think he did, Mistress,” Latch said slowly. Lowering her weapon, as well as her free hand, the sword still held far too loosely, she craned her head around to see Dream circling around from her right. She was smiling. It was a familiar, knowing smile. They both knew what was going to happen next.

“Have a seat, Slave. Let’s begin,” Dream Searcher ordered. Walking to the nearby side of the alley, she patted a closed trash can on the top.

“Yes, Mistress,” Latch replied, her dipping into monotone briefly. Reaching over to her side to sheath her blade, she was stopped by Dream.

“Ah-ah-ah… you won’t be needing that anymore, Slave. Now, get rid of your dagger too, and sit. Be a good, obedient Slave.” Dream ordered once more.

Looking to her blade with some hesitation, she couldn’t rely avoid, let alone disobey the orders of her Mistress. Her word was law, and she had to obey, lest she be punished. Dropping her blade against the cold stone, Latch nodded slowly. Reaching around to the back of her waist, she detached her belt containing her pouch of bits, and her dagger. Tossing it aside, Latch sluggishly dragged herself over, and sat down, back against the wall.

Watching as Dream reached brought a hand out from behind her back, Latch began to mentally prepare herself for what was to happen. Her Mistress had done this countless times before. Spying a familiar, golden pocket watch, Latch straightened, and stared forward. The pocket watch was then dangled before her, like always, and forever.

“Now, are you ready for what I’ve prepared for you, Slave?”

• – - – -

Feedback is oft appreciated with the writing. Yes, this is another bad end for our fallow colored adventurer… however, with a twist.