Originally Posted by HalfTangible
Left front leg. He said calmly as he trotted towards the bathroom that I THINK Benson said was part of this cart. Gimme a minute, I need to reassemble it.
Lone Star locked the door behind him, then stuck his hoof as far down his throat as he could. He started to gag, then threw up. In his throw-up were several small boxes containing pieces of the unassembled flamethrower. He put them together, frowning as he remembered the fuel tank had been too large and too dangerous to risk putting in his stomach.
He smirked. Well, his mom had been a unicorn and the flamethrower had been built with that in mind. He trotted out of the bathroom, wiping sick off of his face. The flamethrower rested on his right side, held in place by his metal wing, while a gas mask was held under the other.
I forgot - I couldn't risk the fuel tank. It needs unicorn magic fed into it to run. He gave Icy puppy-dog eyes. Pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Icy eyed the flimsy apparatus that Lone Star had assembled and called a flamethrower. It looked liable to fall apart at any minute, and... was that some kind of sticky fluid clinging to the metal pipings? She tried not to think too hard about that. Aside from the fact that the flamethrower appeared to be more dangerous to the user than the target, there's also the small fact that beneath her cold exterior, she still had a heart. And that heart did not approve of actually torturing a mare. Ruthless as she may be, she preferred to keep things clean. Either let her go, or give the enemy a clean, honourable death. None of the messy stuff with pain and suffering.
She shook her head. "Enough. She's not going to talk. Let's just put an end to this and move on."
What exactly she meant by "an end" was up to Lemon Chiffon and Fox to guess.