He used to be a bunny who believed in justice. All would be made right, surely. After all, his entire world was ruled directly by an all powerful goddess horse who kept the peace and defended the realm.
That goddess’s name was Fluttershy.
She was the pony who took him off of the mean streets of Ponyville and kept his bowl full of food. She kept her patience during his frequent temper tantrums and only occasionally unleashed that terrifying stare.
A crime against Fluttershy was a crime against the entire animal kingdom. Worse, it was a crime against Angel Bunny himself. Nopony and nothing hurt Angel’s only friend and got away with it; not even if that ‘nothing’ was The God of Chaos.
In his hideout under the bushes behind the cottage, Angel Bunny flexed his paws under his boxing gloves. With a sneer, he slammed his paw against the punching bag. He followed up with several jabs, four hooks to where an equal-sized opponent’s gut would be, then, hopping, he circled around and gave the bag three quick jabs from behind.
He let the gloves drop to the ground as he sat down, soaked in sweat. He was exhausted, but he could feel a deep rooted power running through his veins that wasn’t there before.
He was ready.
Out of all the enemies that Angel had faced (and there were MANY others) Discord would be the most dangerous by far, but Angel was more sure of himself against Discord than he was when he took on that frightening meat-eater, Gilda the Griffin.
His stubby knees shook as he snuck into her cloud home, suspended by several string balloons pilfered from Sugar Cube Corner. Even as he set about his vengeance he couldn’t get the image of those razor-sharp talons and bone-crushing break out of his mind.
Of course, that was entirely the point. Gilda projected the image of a dangerous predator, bullied other ponies and sent Fluttershy fleeing from Ponyville with tears in her eyes because it made her feel tough.
Angel bet she didn’t feel very tough when she woke up to find her fur and feathers dyed pink.
Back in the cottage, his soul still burning with righteous fury, the bunny of vengeance slung a bandolier of paperclips over his shoulder. He wrapped black tape around his paws and stuffed the rest of his weapons of war into a tote bag. With his jaw set firm, he kicked the pet door open and set out on his march.
The sunshine off of the grass outside made the green blades shine like a carpet of gold. Bees and humming birds buzzed around, gathering nectar and pollen.
It all seemed so beautiful to him once. That was before he saw the world for the ugly, vicious place that it really was. It was before the first time he saw Fluttershy cry.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders were honestly sorry for what they did, just like Discord apparently was. Of course Fluttershy forgave them, but Angel Bunny didn’t forgive. He couldn’t. Not until it was made right.
The Crusaders thought that they’d escaped their ironic payback when their teacher, Miss Cheerilee, confiscated all of the embarrassing pictures that Diamond Tiara had of them. But nopony could keep a secret from Angel Bunny. Within a week, every pony in Ponyville found copies of those pictures in their mailboxes.
On a grassy hill far outside of Ponyville, Angel Bunny stopped to chow down on a flower. He would need his strength for the task to come.
Over the field ahead of him, Discord’s fortress floated high in the air, twisting and turning in motion with the giant gears running through it.
Angel checked his watch. Discord had a three o’clock tea party scheduled with Fluttershy that afternoon. By the time the door opened and the serpentine God of Chaos swam through the air, disappearing over the horizon, he was only half an hour late.
Angel Bunny spit in the air as he let his bag drop to the ground. The first item he fished out was his cassette player. He hooked the music player to his bandolier as he hit the button. Suspense music began to play as he got to work.
He balanced the grappling hook launcher on his shoulder, watching the gears turn for several seconds. He would have to get the timing just right.
He pulled the trigger, blasting the rope toward a gear rotating longwise through the house. The hook caught and he grabbed his bag before the turning gear yanked him into the air, reeling him in like a fish. Halfway to the house, Angel Bunny twisted his body, using the change in angular momentum to line himself up, then he let go of the rope, summersaulting before he landed in a ninja-like crouch on the front step. One of the paperclips, bent out of shape, made short work of the archaic lock and soon Angel was through the front door.
Vengeance was his.
That evening, Discord had a smile on his face as he touched down on his front step. He hummed the last few bars of the song Fluttershy sang to him as he searched through his keyring in the darkness.
He was surprised and immediately on guard when he found his door unlocked. Even so, the horror of what waited for him in his own home took a moment to register.
Discord’s house was clean: mopped, vacuumed, even dusted, but the wrongness went deeper than that. All of his books were straight on their shelves and alphabetized by author. His two dozen wall clocks were all set to the correct time. But the true horror of what had been done to him sat in a neatly stacked set of papers on his desk.
Some sociopath had done his taxes.
The deity’s tortured screams echoed through the night and resounded in the floppy ears of the bunny who crouched in the shadows on the hill. His mouth curled into a cruel grin. His veins were on fire with the grim elation that can only come with the complete destruction of an enemy.
He didn’t allow himself to bask for long. His work was done and it would be better if he was gone before The God of Chaos decided to start searching for his burglar.
He felt a mild disappointment as he turned away. Fluttershy was not the sort of pony who made a lot of enemies. It would be a good while before righteous vengeance demanded that he do this again, unless he wanted to make an epic journey into Tartarus to shave Tirek’s beard.
He stopped, tapping his paw against his chin. There was a thought.