Whiplash

Chapters

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19: The End + Afterword
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
SEQUEL

Chapter 2

"Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food." ~Austin O'Malley

"Twilight!" Rainbow Dash burst through the second story window of the Ponyville library.

"Twilight!" She landed in a huff, folding her wings and knocking a few books off a shelf.

Twilight Sparkle looked up from the open book on her desk, a displeased scowl on her face. She levitated the books back into their rightful, alphabetized positions.

"Sorry!” Rainbow Dash panted. "But I need your help, it's really important!"

"I really hope this is important, Dash," her horn glowing as she lifted a glass of orange juice up to her mouth.

"If it's another trick, it'll have to wait until later."

"No, it's nothing like that. There's, there's-"

"Twilight!" Applejack busted through the front door, Rarity in suit. "Dash is ‘bout to get herself kil-" she stopped.

"Oh, heh heh, howdy there, sugarcube."

"Rainbow Dash, what in Equestria is going on?" Twilight asked.

Rainbow took a deep breath.

"Okay, I was showing Applejack and Rarity this new trick I was working on," she explained. "When this lightning bolt struck the Everfree forest."

"There's not a cloud in the sky," Twilight closed her book, obviously more interested in what was going on now.

"I know!" Rainbow Dash cried. As Ponyville's weather-pony, it was very significant whenever a weather-related anomaly occurred.

"A few minutes later, there was more noise coming from the forest," Rarity interjected. "And then dear Rainbow Dash flew off to see what it was."

"So, what was all that there commotion, anyhow?" Applejack looked at Rainbow Dash.

"I-I," Dash stuttered. "Listen, we don't have very much time. I don't know what it is, but it's hurt! He asked for my help, so I flew here as fast as I could."

"He?" Rarity imagined a colt in distress, and seeing herself nurse it back to health in a romantic fantasy.

"No!" Dash squashed Rarity's daydream. "It's not a pony, I don't know what it is."

"Is it dangerous?" Twilight stood out of her chair. Rainbow Dash thought back to the crash site. It seemed to have a weapon of some sort, and it killed a manticore. Obviously in self-defense. But that means that yes, it was indeed dangerous. But Rainbow Dash didn't want to risk her friends not wanting to help because they may be afraid of that creature.

"No," Rainbow Dash lied. "No, he's perfectly harmless. Now he's going to bleed to death if we don't go help him!"

"Alright, alright!" Twilight shushed Rainbow Dash. "Go get Fluttershy. She tends to injured animals, see if she's got some medical supplies. Applejack, Rarity, come with me. Meet us at Everfree Forest."

"Alright, see you there, but hurry!" Rainbow Dash, in a frantic state of mind, darted out the window.

A cool breeze blew through the forest, the smell of blood and injury wafting up from a clearing. The rider drifted in and out of consciousness. He was able to see where he originally landed, a dried, brown stain where his precious blood had been spilled. In his spot, next to his bike, a new puddle of rusty, living fluid was forming.

He spent his time while he was deliriously conscious studying a face, frozen in pain for all eternity, of the predator that almost made him its meal. The rider’s vision was not focused, making it hard to point out key features around him.

His situation still wasn't looking any better, but it wouldn’t be much longer now. He had bled too much, he should have spent his energy trying to stop the bleeding, not lifting up his bike.

Surprisingly, he wasn't any longer afraid of death. In fact, he was accepting it. For some reason, he found himself thinking extremely positively. It was nice, knowing he was finally about to get away from everything, and just have some peace.

He thought of his past. Growing up. Going to school. Getting drunk with his friends. Getting arrested. Visiting his mother at the hospital. Visiting his father… at the state penitentiary. There were some things he tried not to think about, but burned in the front of his head like a hot ember.

Those screams…

They still echoed in his mind, even on the verge of death. It truly was something he’d carry to the grave.

He tried not to think about that, focusing on more positive events in his life.

The rider sighed, closing his eyes. He must have been hallucinating when he saw that flying miniature horse. But the manticore was still present, there was no hallucinating that. Maybe when they found his body, he'd be credited with discovering a new species named after him.

His eyes rolled back into his head, unable to breathe for a moment, and then his lungs resumed pumping oxygen into his bloodstream, each breath more strained than the last. His airways felt constricted with blood, he was sick of blood at this point. He could taste it, smell it, feel it, and now he breathed it. Just how much did he have inside him? How much longer was it going to take before he would just bleed to death?

His Glock 23 was still in his hand. He stared down at it, dark thoughts coming to mind. The rider contemplated putting the muzzle to his head and ending his suffering quick and painlessly.

He had no idea what lay beyond death. What if you get damned for all eternity just for committing suicide? What if you get a suite at the Marriott if you just die a natural death?

The young biker watched the clouds rolling overhead. He'd wait it out. He'd die with dignity, no matter how much it hurt. He would peacefully bear whatever pain was left and die a good old fashioned, natural death. For now, he closed his eyes and tried to wait for death calmly. The rider listened to the birds calling, the wind blowing, the leaves falling, the hooves upon hard dirt...

Hooves?

Maybe he wasn't hallucinating earlier.

"It's just up ahead!" Rainbow Dash led on. All five ponies were able to smell the scorched earth from where the lightning struck. It had created a clearing, knocking down several trees and burning everything around it in an instant.

And there, huddled up against a strange, two-wheeled contraption, lay a motionless body.

Fluttershy let out a yelp of fear, and ducked behind Applejack and Twilight. "Look!"

Not even ten feet from whatever came out of the lightning bolt, was the corpse of a full-grown manticore. Its face looked like it had caved in several places. Splatters of fresh and dried blood caked the ground.

"It ain't alive no more," Applejack drew closer to it and sniffed. "Hoo-wee, that's for sure."

Fluttershy remained a nervous wreck. She had never been around this much blood, death, and suffering before.

"Twilight, he's not moving!" Rainbow Dash flew just above the rider.

"Fluttershy," Twilight turned around. "I don't know any healing spells I could use on this, um, never mind." She looked towards the rider.

"You need to patch him up. Rarity and I will carry him back to Nurse Redheart. But you need to be brave."

Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. Twilight stepped around the blood and scorch marks on the ground, making her way over to the injured creature Rainbow Dash was so bent on saving.

It was big. Bigger than any pony, but not Big Macintosh. It lay motionless on the ground, clutching a black, metal object that ergonomically fit its hand.

There was a large gash on its chest that ripped through its jacket, it was literally drenched in it's own blood. Still, it very weakly breathed in and out. Twilight slowly bent down and looked right into where the rider's eyes should be, his mirror visor reflecting only her gaze. She gently tapped him with her hoof.

"Hello?"

There was no response.

She tapped him again, softy shaking his head.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

The rider drifted back into consciousness.

"Hey!" A gentle, female voice echoed. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes. Vivid purple ones returned his gaze.

There was not enough blood in his veins for him to stay awake, let alone stay alive, for much longer. The rider murmured incoherently before losing consciousness and drifting back off.

"Twilight, what do you want us to do?" Rarity raised an eyebrow. Twilight and her friends anxiously stood around the dying biker. She took a moment to form a plan in her head.

"Fluttershy, stop the bleeding. Everypony else, keep an eye out for more monsters. I don't want to get snuck up on."

Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash nodded, keeping watch as the yellow pegasus tended to the biker's wounds.

"Oh goodness, this is really bad," Fluttershy pressed bandages into the biker's worst wounds, applying pressure and stopping the bleeding. The rider's breathing became more stable, but still constricted.

"I've done what I can," she wiped blood from her hooves.

"Rarity, help me carry this guy and his stuff out of here," Twilight nodded.

Rarity approached the rider’s vehicle. It had been damaged in the crash, and several areas were as badly burned as the rider himself. A peculiar, winged symbol was branded onto each side of the gas tank. Some of it had been scraped off in the crash, but in bold, white lettering, it unmistakably read "Honda."

Two horns began to glow as they worked together to gently levitate the rider and his strange, metal steed. Applejack picked up the black tool, giving it a cursory examination. She shrugged and put it in her saddlebags.

"We don't have much time, hurry up!" Rainbow Dash cried.

"Rainbow Dash, if you could just be a dear," Rarity struggled to keep the biker and his street machine aloft. "We kind of need to concentrate."

Rainbow Dash kept quiet and allowed the two unicorns to do their work. It was dark by the time they reached Nurse Redheart's clinic, but she saw him just the same as any other pony. They left the two-wheeled monster outside, leaning up against a wall, completely oblivious of the kickstand. Carefully, Rarity and Twilight levitated the rider into the infirmary. The mattresses were much too small for him, so they had to extend the length by using another bed frame.

Twilight set him down on the two infirmary beds. The rider exhibited not a sign of life, except for a faint breath every now and then. She undid the strap that kept his helmet on, and slowly slid it off his head.

He looked young. His face was not covered by hair or fur. Well, not completely. He had a short stubble of facial hair on his chin and the top of its head. His skin was slightly tanned, and he had chiseled features. The rider's eyes remained shut, several dried trails of blood led from open wounds on his face.

The five ponies, and Nurse Readheart, gathered around the alien creature. "So, eh heh heh," Nurse Readheart scratched the back of her head.

"What is it?"

"We don't know," Rainbow Dash sighed. The rider was in a deep, blood-loss induced sleep.

"I've only practiced medicine on ponies, but I'll do my best," said Nurse Redheart.

"Could I have some help removing the armor he's wearing?"

Twilight nodded, and softly lifted the rider up in the air. Fluttershy crouched in the corner, watching in fear and curiosity. She had never seen anything hurt that badly before.

Rarity hurriedly unzipped the jacket. She and applejack worked together to remove it while Twilight carefully kept him aloft. Out of a side pocket, a small, metal object fell with a clang.

"What was that?" Fluttershy pricked up her ears as she walked over to the source of the noise.

She picked it up with her mouth and set it on the table for everypony to see.

It was a small, heart shaped medal, attached to a piece of purple ribbon with a pin on the back. It had been stained in the biker's blood and was slightly burnt as well. The medal itself had a golden outline, with the silhouette of one of the same creatures as the biker, sporting an interesting hairstyle, against a purple background.

Even Nurse Redheart looked at it in awe. It caught Rarity's eye.

"Ooh, that's a stylish pendant. I wonder where he got it?"

"Girls, Ah really don't think it's respectful ta' be goin through this thing's stuff," Applejack chimed in.

"Oh, just a second, I just want to get a good look at it," said Rarity as she picked it up with her magic. When she turned it over, she noticed an engraved description. Rarity quickly read the engraving, her expression suddenly looking very puzzled, even guilty.

The unicorn looked at the unconscious beast on twin hospital beds. Occasionally, he would twitch, but he hadn't said a word since they'd found him. Perhaps there was more to him than meets the eye.

"What did it say, Rarity?" Fluttershy asked. She looked at the medal, then the five faces eyeing her closely.

"Um," Rarity levitated the medal back into the creature’s jacket, zipping it up in a pocket. "I really do think Applejack is right, perhaps it is a bit rude to be snooping around his things while he's incapacitated."

"In-ca-pa-sa-what, now?" Rainbow Dash snorted.

"Hmph. Never mind."

Fluttershy and Nurse Readheart removed his black T-Shirt, ripped and bloodstained identically to his jacket. Across the creature's chest were the bandages they had affixed earlier. Nurse Readheart noticed a peculiar round scar on his right shoulder, there even appeared to be stitch marks around it. Based on her medical experience, they looked relatively fresh. The stitch marks couldn’t have been more than a year old. She shrugged it off and continued bandaging his wounds and burns.

Twilight removed his gloves, and set them next to the jacket lying up against the wall. She almost tried to sneak a peak at what the inscription said, but figured it wouldn't be worth it, she didn't want her friends to think she was nosy. She'd find out eventually.

The boots the rider wore were designed for racing. A lip of hard rubber and kevlar rose above the ankle almost halfway up the biker's knee. They were difficult to pull off, especially when they were trying not to hurt him. Rainbow Dash and Applejack tugged each boot off as Twilight held the rider in place. After a little bit of elbow grease, they both slipped off.

"Blech." Rainbow Dash stuck her tongue out. "Smells worse than that manticore."

With all the creature’s protective gear off, a tall, alien biped was laying in a deep sleep. Its major wounds were bandaged, but there was still a lot of skin exposed. The creature had smooth, slightly tanned skin. No fur, no scales. Just skin. It was just odd to those not quite used to seeing anything like it.

"Now, it's getting quite late," Nurse Redheart motioned to the doors. "I'll keep an eye on him, and I'll let you know what happens, when it does."

The five ponies parted ways for the evening. Twilight was still trying to figure out what the creature was. He seemed to have a lot of advanced technology on him, as well as that two-wheeled carriage. Celestia was on a several day leave to Fillydelphia, it would be days before she could be contacted regarding creature they had just brought to town. For now, she would try to identify it on her own. There were already several books in her mind that may hold the answer.

Rarity was dwelling on what the medal in the biker's pocket symbolized. Applejack was still a bit paranoid. As she walked back to the farm, she contemplated the dead manticore, and how the rider had managed to fend it off, even while severely injured. Could something like that be dangerous? Of course, for all she knew, it could have been the manticore that caused some of his injuries.

Fluttershy was losing her marbles after all the blood and torment she’d seen today. She had never seen anything so badly hurt, the pain and suffering that creature felt must have been unbearable! And while Fluttershy would never hurt a fly, it appeared as though he defended himself from a manticore, successfully, too. It made her very nervous of the day that creature would wake up, if it wakes up.

Rainbow dash flew though the night sky. She wasn't ready to turn in; she had too much on her mind. Seeing the blood-soaked rider drop to the ground, begging for help, begging to stay alive.

Only time would hold the answers. They saved him, brought him to town, treated his wounds, now all that was left was for him to wake up.

Chapter 3

February 22, 2014
0930 hours
Korangal Valley, Kunar Province, Northeast Afghanistan
US Army PFC Patrick Wilcox
187th Infantry

The lonely, barren Afghanistan countryside seemed endless. A hasty line of armored all-terrain vehicles and small tanks kicked up dust from the Afghan desert. The 187th Infantry Regiment passed through it slowly. An M3A3 Bradley light-armored tank rolled ahead of an HMMWV Humvee. Private First Class Wilcox rode shotgun.

He kept his eyes peeled off into the countryside. There was nothing out here, a single dirt road. No villages, no trees. Just dirt, sand, rocks, canyons, and mountains.

PFC Wilcox wrapped his hands tightly around his Colt M4A1 carbine, his finger rested up against the trigger guard. The HMMWV jolted up and down, side to side. Each time they hit a bump, the PFC would bounce in the air for a moment, only to be restrained by his seatbelt.

"Yo, Patrick!"

The Private First Class turned around.

"It's gonna be a good day, I can feel it! Ha, ha!" the soldier, the name "Reyes" sewn onto his uniform, teased.

Patrick smiled, remembering the first time he'd heard his friend speak those words. They had both gotten wasted beyond all recognition, and woke up in their local police station handcuffed to each other. Reyes looked over at Patrick and smiled. "It's gonna be a good day."

The PFC turned back around. Ahead of them, the M3A3 Bradley slowed to a halt.

"Alpha, we've picked up possible IEDs ahead. Stand by," the operator of the M3A3 stated over the radio.

The driver of the Humvee pressed his foot to the brake, the convoy behind him doing the same.

Patrick didn't like this. They were in a canyon, closed in on all sides. They could easily be bombarded from above by gunfire, or worse.

"Keep an eye on them cliffs," a sergeant whispered over the radio. PFC Wilcox kept his rifle close, scanning the tops of the cliffs and ledges. The M3A3 Bradley tank operators probed the ground with a robotic arm. All was quiet and still for a few seconds.

"Shit! They're decoys, get the fuck out of he-" A glob of fire rained down from the top of the cliff. The M3A3 Bradley burst into flames. It was every soldier's nightmare: Ambush.

"Get out!" Reyes barked. "GO, GO GO!"

Patrick swung the door open, running as fast as his feet could carry him to any cover he could find. Moments later, the HMMWV he was sitting in shared the same fate as the M3A3, as did some of the other ones in the convoy. A rocket-propelled grenade tore into the Humvee, reducing it to a flaming pile of scrap metal.

Patrick stumbled to the ground after being hit with several shards of hot shrapnel, but his IOTV body armor remained true. Feeling a wave of heat run up his back, the Private First Class picked himself up and continued to flee from the blazing Humvee.

Cold-War era weaponry crackled off from the distance. PFC Wilcox watched in horror as his comrades, engulfed in flames, were set on fire themselves. They tried to roll around in the dirt, screaming in agony as they burned alive, but it wouldn’t snuff out the flames.

The survivors, as well as Wilcox, blind fired at their attackers in confusion. The Taliban insurgents used it to their advantage, randomly popping out to return fire.

PFC Wilcox dashed behind a pillar of rocks, his rifle spitting out a trail of spent 5.56mm shells. He put his back up against the rocks as cover, releasing his M4A1's empty magazine and slapping a new one in place. Frantic and pointless radio chatter made it so difficult to focus on the situation at hand, he had to mute his radio headset.

Wilcox grabbed his rifle, putting his eye up to the ACOG scope and aiming defensively. He was alone and separated from his convoy, there was no way to get to them without getting in the insurgents' line of fire. He poked his head out from behind the rock, and what he saw made his heart sink.

The soldiers in his Humvee lay burned and mangled, their eyes blankly staring ahead of them, their mouths wide open. Five corpses were scattered around and inside the still burning vehicles.
"No…" PFC Wilcox whispered to himself. He knew all of them. They were his friends. They had gone to school together, they had enlisted together. Most of them were barely nineteen or twenty years old, Wilcox himself was only nineteen. They had grown up together, fought together, trained together, laughed together.

And now, they died together.

It made the Private First Class sick to his stomach, feeling the contents of his stomach creep up his throat. He vomited a spray of half digested rations and foul liquid. The overwhelming scent of burnt human meat, as well as witnessing his best friends burn to death, was the most unspeakably revolting sensation he’d ever experienced.

"Wilcox, get your ass over here!" one of soldiers from his platoon screamed from their cover behind a still-burning Humvee.

Patrick flinched as bullets began to be sprayed in his direction, wiping leftover vomit off his lips. They impacted off the rock face behind him, spraying dust in his face. He withdrew his head back behind his cover.
"Wilcox, we'll cover you! You can make it, just go!" his convoy gave a steady stream of covering fire to the cliff tops.

"Wilcox, Now! GO!"

The PFC stood from his cover and fired his rifle. While the two sides exchanged fire, PFC Wilcox made a break for his convoy's cover. Halfway from his cover to his convoy, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. It knocked him to the ground, and rooted him to the spot. Face down in the dirt clutching his shoulder and his rifle, the world seemed to slow down, the beating of his heart speeding up. He had never been shot before, but it burned, it burned, it burned.

This was it. He was going to die here today. Patrick kept his head face down, eyes squeezed shut, waiting for more bullets to tear through his flesh.

They never did. The young soldier felt himself sliding against the desert sand. He looked up; the commanding officer, as well as another soldier from his convoy, were dragging him to safety as soviet-era 7.62mm rounds sunk into the ground mere feet from them. PFC Wilcox let out a cry of pain after they dragged him behind the cover of a damaged HMMWV.

"Are you good?" the commanding officer, an intimidating African American, said with concern. "Hey, you're still with us. Snap out of it!"

The man shook Patrick out of shell shock.

Patrick could not even speak. He simply nodded. He still had good enough use of his arms; he could still aim a rifle. He could still fight. Patrick fired on any insurgent dumb enough to poke his head up. His rifle's recoil stung the wound in his shoulder, but he persisted. His efforts did not go unrewarded.

A head, wrapped in a turban, popped out of cover to try and make a brief shot at any of the US troops. Patrick placed his illuminated crosshair on its forehead. He exhaled and pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit its mark, and the Taliban insurgent flew backwards with the force of the round, blood splattering the wall of the canyon behind him.

The Private First Class continued assisting the convoy in delivering suppressing fire, until what sounded like a supersonic eagle screeched overhead.
"Hooah!" chanted several service members, just before the bombs made contact with the ground.

Whatever was at the top of the cliffs perished in an all-encompassing cloud of fire. It sent a rush of hot air down through the canyon, felt by all.
"All targets eliminated. Merry Christmas, boys, we're peacin’ out," crackled Patrick's radio.

His comrades cheered and hollered, but PFC Wilcox lay still and quiet. The convoy's medic pressed a rag dampened with a medical fluid onto his wound.

The faces of his friends felt like a burning coal in the front of his head. Their blank stares, jaws open, some still even on fire. Bloodcurdling screams rang in his ears, as if he was wearing headphones and set it to repeat. Soon enough, the thrums of helicopter blades became louder and louder.

"Enjoy your Purple Heart, private," the commanding officer slapped him on his good shoulder.

Patrick's mind was elsewhere.

The rider took a deep breath. His eyes felt sticky, it stung slightly to open them. His pupils dilated, having not seen light for a time, making the rider have to squint until his eyes adjusted.

He was in a white-painted room, obviously some sort of medical facility. The only source of light was a few windows. The floor was a synthetic, white-blue tile. A few potted plants and small trees sat in the corners of the room and upon end tables, next to a row of beds lined up against the wall. The rider was in one of these beds, but it seemed like one had been placed in front of it to extend the length, like these beds were made for something smaller than he.

"Ugh, I need a cigarette." It felt like the understatement of the century.

Struck by lightning, attacked by a manticore, and now waking up in a hospital? It was definitely going to be one of those days. The rider thought back to his hallucination of the flying pony. Maybe she really did get him help in time.

"No, I've just got brain damage, that's all," the rider reassured himself. "I'm just going crazy, no big deal."

The rider examined himself. His head was resting comfortably against a pillow.

Someone had undressed him. All his gear and clothing had been removed, except for his tattered and blood stained pants. At least they gave him that much respect.

His chest was heavily bandaged in a toga style. His entire lower gut was wrapped, and a strip of medical cloth wrapped around his left shoulder under his arm.

His left arm seemed to be in a hard-cast, secured by a long strip of cloth tied tightly enough to keep it on. His arm didn't feel broken, but it felt like a swarm of fire ants were eating away at his skin. He carefully removed the wrapping and took off the hard-cast. His skin was red and dry, and stung to the touch. It was a second degree burn; nothing too serious, but painful as hell. The biker discarded the hard-cast, it restricted his arm too much. He tied the bandage back around his burn.

His left leg was exposed. A pants leg had been rolled up, his knee and leg had been wrapped in gauze.

His breathing was clear and steady. The rider gave a sigh of relief, and looked up at the ceiling. Whoever had patched him up seemed to know what they were doing. For that matter, where was the doctor?

The biker groaned as he sat up in the bed. The room was empty. It was silent, except for a ticking clock at the other side of the room. His body felt stiff, like he had been lying there for some time.

The rider rose to his wobbly feet, getting a head rush from standing up too quickly. He clutched his head, straining to regain his balance. His vision cleared, and he slowly put one foot in front of the other.

Very stiff, but he had surprisingly good mobility after just having that nasty accident. Maybe someone here could shed light on what happened. He shuffled to a window. What he saw made his eyes widen.

There was a street outside, but everything was unnecessarily colorful and bubbly. Ponies, shades of all colors, bustled around the town square. He could see a marketplace off in the distance, as well as various shops and boutiques. It looked like a cartoon.

"Yep, I'm crazy. But at least I'm sane enough to know it," the rider thought, expecting to wake up from this dream any second now.

But he was awake. If he were passed out in a coma, the pain he felt wouldn’t seem so real. It was obvious: whatever happened when he was struck by lightning had brought him here. Perhaps this was death? No, it wasn’t death. If it was, he wouldn’t be injured. Or maybe that’s not how it works… Of course, for all he knew, this could be the afterlife. However, he felt very much alive.

This place seemed familiarly human, minus the humans. The rider stared through the glass in disbelief, his hands shaking in nicotine withdrawal. Finding a cigarette was going to have to wait. First, he just needed to talk to someone. Anyone.

"Oh, you’re awake!" a female voice cried.

The rider spun around, looking down at a white pony with a pink mane, a medical tiara affixed to her head. A red cross was printed on her flank.

He slapped himself in the face, a tingling discomfort resonating in his skin. The injured biker had finally come to terms with the fact he was not hallucinating.

"Um, hello there," Nurse Redheart grinned nervously. She took a step back. The biker was speechless, he continued blankly looking down at the white earth pony.

"I'm sure you're very confused about what's going on, but you're safe here. My name is Nurse Redheart, what's yours?"

The biker simply stared, completely lost in thought as his mind raced. It’s not like he’s never seen a horse before, but they spoke English here?

Nurse Readheart gulped, suddenly feeling a pang of regret for taking on this patient. It stood much taller than her, and was nothing like she'd ever seen before. Even though it had been out for sometime, it was awake now. She was utterly at this thing’s mercy.

She swallowed her fear and cleared her throat.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

The rider cleared his throat.

"Yes," his voice sounded shriveled up from disuse. "Yes, I-I can."

"So, your name?"

"Uh," the biker broke eye contact for a moment. "Patrick."

She held out her hoof and smiled.

Struck by lightning, apparently thrust into a parallel universe, nearly eaten alive, almost bleeding to death, and now face to face with a talking pony. How was he supposed to react?

For a moment he just stared, and then shook his head.

“Just chill,” the rider thought. “At least I’m alive.”

It was probably for the best he just lighten up.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude," he smiled, and shook her hoof. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Of course, but you really shouldn't be standing right now. Your body is still recovering, you should rest."

Patrick sat back down on the bed, as Nurse Readheart went and fetched his things. She left his boots, jacket, gloves, helmet, and the contents of his pockets in a neat pile on a nightstand next to his bed.

The pack of cigarettes he had in his pocket was destroyed. Submerged by rain, burned, and blood soaked, in that order. His wallet was singed and bloodstained, but intact. All of his credit cards had melted, however, his driver’s license survived.

Sitting in a Nylon holster was his Glock 23. In a side pocket of the holster, one full magazine sat untouched.

His jacket was heavily burned, torn, and bloodstained. Whatever heat he'd been exposed to appeared to have been mostly absorbed into his jacket and helmet. Speaking of his helmet, some of the plastic had melted on one side. It featured scratches and dings Patrick hadn't seen before.

Nurse Redheart had even washed his t-shirt and sewn the rip from the gash on his chest. It was slightly discolored, but wearable.

"Ms. Redheart?" Patrick called to her as she carried a tray with a glass of water and a bowl of soup over to him.

"Listen, I just wanted to say thanks."

"Oh, dear, it's nothing at all, really," she set the tray down on the table.

"No, really, I appreciate everything. Thank you," he gave her the most sincere smile he could manage.

"It was nothing, really, happy to help," she bashfully replied. For some reason, it was always hard for her to accept credit when she actually deserved it, and so easy to accept it when she didn't. At least she wouldn't have to be afraid of this thing anymore.

"How long have I been out?" Patrick took a spoonful of soup.

"It's been about three days now," she replied.

"What?"Patrick sat up, flipping the tray over. The bowl of soup exploded into a mess of goop on the floor among broken shards of ceramic.

"Uh, sorry about that," Patrick shrugged.

Nurse Redheart simply smiled, and fetched a rag and broom. Patrick stood out of the short bed, and took the rag from her.

"Really, it's fine. Besides, you really shouldn't be standing, or bending-"

Patrick bent over to wipe up the mess and cringed. A wave of pain shot up from his chest, causing him to clutch the bandages wrapped around him and grit his teeth.

"-Over," Nurse Redheart finished her sentence.

Reluctantly, Patrick lay in the bed as he let the white earth pony clean up his mess and make him another bowl of soup. She set a tray with a bowl of identical substance down on his lap.

"Just," she paused. "Try to be more careful this time, okay?"

"I'll try," Patrick blew on a spoonful of hot soup. There was no meat to speak of, it was all vegan. He wasn't sure if he'd even had anything to eat at all over the past few days. Maybe they had force fed him or something while he was out, he sure didn't feel malnourished. But he was hungry at the moment, so he wolfed it down quick.

Nurse Readheart had left the room for a moment, and returned in another.

"Patrick?"

Patrick was going through his things, examining what survived and what didn’t. He took note of the damage caused to a peculiar, heart-shaped medal, tucking it back in his pocket. He remembered throwing his phone into the woods; probably not the best idea, even though it wasn’t working at the time.

"Yeah?" he sat up in the bed.

"I don't mean to interrupt anything, but you have some visitors."

"Visitors?" Patrick rose up in the bed. He thought back to lying on the ground in the Everfree forest in a crippled stupor. It was all a blur.

Six ponies piled into the long, spacious room. A purple unicorn, the same cyan-colored flying pony he had seen before, an orange earth pony, a yellow pegasus with folded wings and a pink mane, a white unicorn with a meticulously maintained purple mane, and a bubbly-looking pink pony with an equally pink curly mane and tail.

He was honestly a bit irritated at the moment, having not had a cigarette in days, and being through this entire ordeal. But, he should at least show them some gratitude.

It was quiet for a few seconds, until finally Rainbow Dash spoke up.

"So, um," she dug at the floor shyly with her hoof. "Doing any better?"

He stared again for a moment, still trying to process everything that was laid before him.

"Y-Yeah," he tried his best to smile the same smile he gave Nurse Redheart.

"Listen I," Patrick struggled for words. "I don't really know what to say. Just, thank you, for everything."

"Oh sugarcube, don't you worry about it none," Applejack came closer to the bed, after seeing he was friendly.

"No," it seemed like everyone was just trying to be modest in this universe. "Thank you, I really mean it. I should be dead right now. Listen, if there's anything I can ever-"

"Well, except for me, I wasn't there," Pinkie Pie interrupted, and started bouncing around the room, and glared at Twilight. "But sooomepony didn't feel like including me in on it!"

"We said we were sorry," Rarity huffed. "We didn't really have enough time to come get you, anyway."

"Poor dear," Rarity glanced towards Patrick.

"So, what's your name?" Twilight asked the alien creature lying in the hospital bed in front of her.

"Patrick," he smiled. "Pleasure to meet you all." He put on a happy face, but inside, he still had no idea what was going, or why he was here. And it was driving him absolutely nuts. He needed answers, and soon, or else he was afraid his head would explode.

"-And this is Fluttershy," Rainbow Dash pointed a hoof to the pegasus, shyly hiding behind Twilight. He must have spaced out while they were introducing themselves to him. Speaking of Twilight, she seemed to have a certain gaze, different from her friends’ in regards to Patrick. She appeared to be studying him.

"Is something wrong?" Patrick asked Twilight Sparkle.

"Hm?" she blinked. "No, nothing at all." Twilight was deep in thought. In all the books of legendary creatures she’d read, he resembled nothing she had ever read about in her studies. It was almost like he just didn't belong here.

"So, what are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm a human," Patrick said proudly.

"A what, now?" Applejack stared blankly.

"Oooh, nice headgear, Mr. Hyoo-Mann," Pinkie Pie made a series of funny faces into the reflection of the visor on his helmet.

"Blah-blah-blah-blah." She stuck her tongue out repeatedly and blew a raspberry.

"Where are you from?" Twilight asked.

"Atlanta," he replied nonchalantly.

"Where in Equestria is that?" Rarity questioned. All eyes were on Patrick now.

The only reason he replied "Atlanta" so quickly, was because it was just his instinctive reply that he'd answer whenever someone asked where he was from.

"It's uh," Patrick chose his words carefully. " A city. Very far away from here, probably."

"Probably? Do you even know where you are?" Twilight made eye contact with him.

"No…" he sighed.

"Have you ever seen a pony before?" Rainbow Dash raised.

"I have no idea what I'm doing here, or where I am," Patrick replied.

"So, y’all just burst out of a lightning bolt, and here you were?" Applejack raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"I-" Patrick stuttered, feeling a bit intimidated by the way Applejack asked. "Listen, I don't know. It was storming really bad, I think I might have been struck by lightning. The next thing I knew, I was in some weird forest burnt to a crisp in a puddle of my own blood. I was just trying to ride away from- Wait, where's my bike?"

Patrick stood up out of the bed quickly, awkwardly slipping his shirt on over all his bandages. It was important to him to make sure his bike was okay. It was more important, because he had just bought a carton of cigarettes before riding that night and left them in the compartment under the seat. He tied a grocery bag around it, so they couldn't have gotten wet. Maybe they'd be okay.

"Woah there," Applejack stood in front of the doorway, suddenly noticing how tall he was.

Fluttershy squeaked and ducked behind Twilight and Rarity after seeing his height.

"How's the weather up there?" Pinkie Pie looked up at Patrick, his head less than a foot from the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," Patrick paid it no mind, his mind on popping off the passenger seat and retrieving his cancer sticks. "My bike, where is it?"

"Your what?" Twilight answered.

"My bike! I know it came here with me. The black thing, with two wheels. Does that ring any bells?"

"Oh, that!" Rarity stepped in.

"Yes, dear. Don't worry about a thing, we brought it into town with you."

"Thank god," Patrick sighed. "Where is it?"

"We left it outside. I really don't think you should go out there at the moment, though."

"Why not?" Patrick said.

"Well, we wouldn't really want you to cause an uproar, we have a feeling some ponies might be afraid of you," Twilight gestured to Fluttershy, who was still hiding behind Rarity.

"Patrick, I don't mean to be rude, but, um, well," Fluttershy tried to form a sentence. "Was it you that killed that manticore back in the Everfree Forest?"

He wasn't really prepared to answer that. All the ponies in the room looked at him questioningly. He wanted to lie, but what was he supposed to say?

"…Yes," he admitted. "But... I couldn't move. It was about to kill me, I had no choice."

"How in tarnation did you kill a manticore, if you were already hurt so bad from that lightning?" Applejack asked.

He carefully withdrew the Glock 23 from its holster, making sure the safety was on.

“This is a weapon from where I come from.”

Fluttershy took a few steps back, hiding behind Rarity again.

"Fluttershy, he's not going to hurt you," Rarity cooed.

Patrick could tell he was scaring her terribly. She tried to stand tall and look him in the eye, but she just couldn't. So he had to go to her.

Patrick set the Glock 23 back in the holster. He bent down, shrugging off a trickle of pain under his bandages, and held out his hand.

"I know I'm kind of scary looking," he joked. "But I'm not such a bad guy after you get to know me."

Fluttershy stared at his outstretched hand, and his seemingly sincere smile. She gently shook his hand, smiling a bit to her self, but unable to make eye contact.

Patrick sat on his hospital bed, bragging to Rainbow Dash about his bike. A fellow speed demon herself, she listened intently.

Nurse Redheart tapped Twilight's shoulder. "Twilight, a word?"

"What's going on, Nurse Redheart?" Twilight turned around.

"Well, I don't really know how to say this, but…" She said. "He can't really stay here forever. I'll make sure to check up on his health every now and then, but I have other patients I need to take care of, too."

"So, what are you saying?" Twilight looked on, as Rainbow Dash tried showing off her moves to Patrick in this small space, knocking a potted plant to the floor and smashing it.

"Sorry about that," Rainbow dash landed as Rarity and Applejack glared at her.

"Well, I think maybe you should find him another place to stay. He says he thinks he came from another universe. Maybe, until you can figure out how to send him back to where he came from, you should find him a place."

"But won't the other ponies be scared of him? Don't you remember how they reacted to Zecora?" Twilight whispered.

"They'll have to get used to him some time or another. Besides, he seems friendly."

Twilight guessed that Nurse Redheart was right. She had a lot of extra space in the library, she could find a place for him. It might even help having him around if she was going to try and find a way for him to get home.

"Patrick?" Twilight approached him.

"Hey, what's up?" Patrick responded.

"Would you like to stay with me, for as long as you're here? I live in the

Ponyville library. Maybe we can find a way to send you home.”

"Wow," Patrick was honestly touched at the offer, but felt a polite urge to decline. Still, where was he supposed to go?

"Sure, I’d be honored.”

"Hey, Patrick!" Pinkie Pie bounced up and down with a singsong voice. "Now that you're staying in Ponyville, why don't we have a 'Welcome to Ponyville' party for you?"

"Oh, Pinkie Pie, I really don't think-" Rarity trailed off.

"Um, I don't think that's really the best idea," Patrick searched for a reason why he could turn it down. "I mean, I still hurt from-"

"You silly filly, everyone loves a good party! In fact, I'm going to go plan it out right now, bye!" Pinkie pie zipped out of the nurse's office in a pink blur.

Patrick blinked, and nervously sighed.

"Wait, she wasn't serious, was she?"

Chapter 4

May 10, 2014
10:56 AM
US Army CPL Patrick Wilcox (discharged)
First Bapitist Church Atlanta
Atlanta, Georgia

Corporal Patrick Wilcox sat in the second to front row of pews in the gargantuan, elegant chapel. It was the third day of his honorable discharge, and it wasn't really going how he'd planned to be spending it. At the very last minute, Patrick received a funeral invitation, before even reaching the United States.

It was difficult to assimilate back into society. He honestly felt like he had no place.

After three months and two surgeries, his shoulder seemed to be greatly improving. His post-combat psychological exam diagnosed him with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; or PTSD; depression, and anxiety, after his frequent anxiety attacks since ending his service.

He would often break down, or cringe at loud noises. Every night, his slumber was greeted by horrifying nightmares, but he never even told the military psych about it. He was ashamed and absolutely heartbroken after everything he’d endured.

The sanctuary was packed. It was so full that people had to lean against the wall after no seating was left. After hearing that five of their soldiers had been killed in a single day, the city of Atlanta had come to pay its respects. Many outside sang hymns and held candles. Police had to direct traffic, and give parking tickets to those who decided to park on the grass.

Patrick was among the few dozen or so in uniform present. He didn't recognize the other brass, probably just some officers the army sent for funeral purposes, as well as the Brigadier General.

CPL Wilcox wore a tan beret over his head, with a blue-white starred patch sewn to the front, as well as his formal military attire. His purple heart, along with a few other medals, lay pinned to his chest.

A somber, piano and organ tune drowned out light conversation. A projector displayed five names onto a white screen, hanging from the ceiling on each side of the room.

"Private First Class Ryan Nguyen"
"Private First Class Joseph Campbell"
"Specialist Jose Reyes"
"Specialist Louis Armistead"
"Private First Class Spencer Green"

Across the pulpit, five coffins draped with American flags had respectfully been placed.

Patrick was numb. He sat there, not even thinking, not feeling anything, staring straight ahead. It was a scary thing, to have no emotion, and no thought. He felt dead, burnt out, like he was all used up.

It was well known that he and his friends had enlisted together, which is why their parents had contacted the Army and asked if it would be possible for a joint-funeral. The military granted their request.

"Patrick?"

Patrick rose up. It was Jose's father, Mr. Reyes.

"Patrick, thank you," he shook his hand. Mr. Reyes’s eyes were red.

"Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us, and all the other parents that you'd show up."

Patrick nodded, but remained silent. He didn't know what to say. He was only here to say good-bye.

"Listen," Mr. Reyes spoke tonelessly. "The other parents and I have been talking. We were wondering if you'd speak today. It would mean a lot to us, since you were the last person with them before…” Mr. Reyes paused.

“If it's just too much, I understand."

Patrick made eye contact with Mr. Reyes, who looked longingly into his own. He couldn't say no.

Patrick nodded, but remained silent.

"Thank you," Mr. Reyes smiled, and returned to his seat with his wife.

Patrick caught a lot of stares from around the room. He also noticed in the balcony, there were TV cameras sporting the logo of a local news channel. He didn't realize that the funeral was going to be broadcasted live. Now, he was nervous.

Still, he'd speak for them. He wasn't really prepared, since the ambush, he barely said anything to anybody. CPL Wilcox’s combat shock wore off long ago, but he definitely felt different since then.

After a long service, the preacher stepped down, and allowed the parents and relatives to begin speaking. Patrick hoped he was going to go last, so he could continue to think about what he was going to say while people gave their testimonies.

Patrick couldn’t come up with some heartwarming testimony on the spot. He was too distraught; maybe he should just speak from the heart. Patrick felt his eyes welling up, and wiped them on his sleeve.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Finally, Mr. Reyes stepped onto the pulpit, and gave his testimony of his son, SPC Jose Reyes. He recalled all of the boys, including Patrick, growing up together, and having parties at their house. He smiled as he told the story of how Jose dented his truck, and tried to hide it.

There was a tug on Patrick's shoulder. He spun around.

"Patrick," Mrs. Reyes whispered. "After he's done, we'd like you to go up."

He nodded to her, and as Mr. Reyes walked down from the podium, Patrick passed by him in the aisle. He felt self-conscious; all the eyes in the room were on the young man wearing the military uniform. The TV cameras made him nervous, but he needed to be strong.

Patrick took a second to gaze at the flag-draped coffins, and stepped up to the pulpit. A microphone sat built in to the wooden, cross-shaped podium.

He was quiet for a few moments, determined not to shed a single tear, especially with cameras rolling, and a church full of people.

Patrick cleared his throat.

"My name is Corporal Patrick Wilcox," he said, a solemn expression on his face.

"I was in the same unit as the men in these coffins." The entire room was rooted to their seats, and listened intently to the young soldier standing at the podium. He couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty years old. His face was tired and his eyes reeked of battle fatigue.

Patrick looked at the other uniformed men, sitting in the balcony. They had their arms crossed, and appeared to be higher rank than him. One even shook his head at Patrick subtly. The Corporal didn't really care if he was cleared to talk about it or not.

Patrick briefly ran through the ambush. There was nothing anyone could have done, it had just happened. He explained how Jose was even sitting behind him in the same vehicle.

He tried to end it with a happier note, about how he and his friends had grown up together.

"-And then Ryan thought it would be a good idea to push the thing out the window, which only made everything a lot worse. So now, Spencer’s freaking out. Louis and Mike are still mopping up the keg of beer, Joe and Jose are still passed out on the floor. And then Jose’s dad shows up."

He got a slight chuckle from the crowd, some wiping tears from their faces.

Patrick himself was on the verge of exploding into tears. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. It was time to wrap up his testimony, anyway.

"I grew up with these men," Patrick sighed. "We grew up together, we went to school together, a-and we e-enlisted t-together. I-"

And then, it happened.

In front of rolling TV cameras and a church full of people, rivers of tears ran down the young soldier's face.

He stopped speaking, and let out a low sigh, uncontrollably weeping. Corporal Wilcox stared off into the crowd, watching the expressions of congregation change as the tears flowed freely from his eyes. He didn't care who saw anymore. He didn't care if an entire city of people saw him cry like a baby.

Patrick turned around, and put his head face down on one of the flag draped coffins. The room was absolutely silent, minus the sobs of a soldier mourning the deaths of his comrades. His friends.

His brothers.

“Patrick, you there?” somepony waved a blue hoof infront of his face. “Hey motorcycle boy, what are you, lost in memories?” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms as she hovered above the ground.

“Sorry,” Patrick shook his head. “Just… Thinking about something.” Patrick took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed the filter away.

The buzz he felt was incredible. Three days without a cigarette was driving him mad. When he examined his bike and popped the seat off, he nearly fainted.

Patrick nearly jumped for joy right then and tore into the package, withdrawing a cigarette and his lighter quickly, while the Rainbow Dash and her friends eyed him strangely, like he was a meth-addict getting his fix. His carton of 20 packs; 400 cigarettes; was dry, and still wrapped in the package. If he was stuck here forever though, he was merely delaying the inevitable withdrawal he’d have to go through.

Unfortunately tobacco, nor alcohol, seemed to exist in this strange equestrian fairy world. He would quit if it really came down to it. Or become a tobacco farmer. Whichever came first.

“Alright, Patrick, you might get some weird looks but,” Twilight shrugged. “Just ignore them. I promise, everyone will warm up to you eventually.”

“If you say so,” Patrick shrugged. He was wearing his tattered and blood stained jacket and clothing, as well as his boots. His helmet and gloves were tied to his helmet lock on the side of his bike.

His motorcycle would still run, although it had accumulated a thin layer of dust and pollen from being outside for three days.

The fuel gauge indicated he had three quarters of his fuel tank left. With a five gallon tank, and at fifty miles per gallon, that gave him…

Approximately two hundred miles before he’d run out of gas. He wasn’t even sure if gasoline, let alone any kind of fuel, existed in this universe. They seemed to have technology, but it was very limited. “Magic” seemed to be their primary source of anything here. Fluttershy had explained how ponies had to take care of nature, control the weather, and even wake the animals from hibernation in the spring.

He wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to be here, so he figured it would probably be best not to waste any unnecessary gas. Even then, his bike had street tires; most of the roads were just dirt paths. In his current condition though, he was not fit to ride anywhere long, for that matter.

Patrick had learned he’s in a land, or a planet, or a country, or…

Whatever it was, it was called Equestria, ruled by two princesses who controlled the sun and moon. All of its inhabitants were either ponies, or something out of a storybook.

Patrick mounted his bike and turned the key, the digital instruments coming to life. He wiped a smudge of pollen off of the gas tank, looking at his own reflection in it. There were only a few things in this world that really gave him peace: Riding his bike, working on bikes, racing bikes, and a constant stream of nicotine in his bloodstream.

“Just follow Rainbow Dash, and keep moving. Don’t get offended if anyone is scared of you,” Rarity patted Patrick on the shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” Patrick shrugged. “That is, if Dash won’t be going too slow.”

“Oh yeah?” Rainbow Dash hovered in mid air. “Try and keep up.”

She shot off into Ponyville like a bullet from a rifle.

“You’d better follow her to the library, I’ll meet you there,” Twilight said.

Patrick pressed the starter, the spark plugs chirped and started the engine. Patrick gave it a good rev, the noise coming from the exhaust scared birds out of the trees and making Fluttershy, Applejack, Twilight, and Rarity recoil. He rolled out of the side yard onto the front street of the town square in the vague direction Rainbow Dash went.

The road was cobblestone. It was a little bumpy, but his tires easily found grip. Patrick had reset his trip odometer to zero so he could keep track of his mileage, until he could figure out some other way to power his motorcycle. For all he knew though, he could be going home tonight if he and Twilight could find a way.

Each time he used his fingers, whatever skin was left underneath his bandages writhed in agony. It was difficult to lean forward with the bike’s regular sitting position, he found himself holding himself up awkwardly with the handlebars to ease stress on the wounds across his chest. He rode calmly, taking each turn as gently as possible.

A deep, throaty moan escaped from his exhaust pipes. He suddenly wished his motorcycle hadn’t been so loud. He now hated himself now for installing that performance exhaust, it wasn’t really going to make him any less intimidating.

Ponies stopped what they were doing and stared in fear, rooted to the spot. Some grabbed their foals and ran inside. Others just watched. Ponyville had never seen anything like the biker or his metal and fiberglass steed.

Patrick Felt like a cowboy riding into the Wild West. It made him self-conscious, but he pressed on, steering around market stands and frightened ponies, as he had to ride close to them. The buildings and houses about the town square reminded him of a Victorian village. The roar of his engine, even while traveling at a safe speed, echoed across Ponyville.

He caught a glimpse of Rainbow Dash waiting for him two stories in the air down a street, crossing her arms and pretending to tap her foot as if he was taking too long. Patrick felt many eyes on him, but just stared straight ahead. It was difficult riding in such an injured state, even more difficult when everyone is watching your every move.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a young filly dashed into his path of travel, blinded by his running headlights. As if they were extensions of his body, Patrick pulled in the clutch and put pressure on both brakes. His tires squealed, leaving a thick, black line on the cobblestone ground.

She sat there, blinded by the headlight in fear, looking up at the rider. She was shaking.

A gray pegasus pony with bubbles on her flank broke towards the motorcyclist and the small, gray filly. She glared at Patrick, and then scooped up the small filly in her arms and flew off.

Patrick looked around, some ponies murmuring to themselves or shaking their heads. Yeah, his first visit to the town he might be stuck forever in, and it was going just swimmingly.

Rainbow Dash motioned him forward.

“Come on!” she called to him.

No one was really paying any attention to Rainbow Dash, the entire city of Ponyville seemed to be glaring at Patrick right now. What was it with everyone here and glaring, anyway?

Patrick repressed whatever thoughts he had about the situation, it would have to wait until later. He released the clutch and slowly gained speed as Rainbow Dash led him to the library.

The Ponyville library was a giant building carved into a tree. He coasted his bike onto the grass and shifted into neutral, putting down his kickstand and removing the key as he did so.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Rainbow Dash scratched the back of her head apprehensively.

Patrick didn’t even want to think about what just happened.

“I almost hit a kid. Did you see the way her mother looked at me? This is going to go over well.”

“No, I’m sure- Well, no… Maybe… Let’s just go see if Twilight’s home yet,” Rainbow Dash muttered.

Rainbow Dash and Patrick opened the door, finding it to be dark and empty.

“Hello?” Rainbow Dash called, her voice echoing into the abyss. She and Patrick took another step into the giant tree house.

“SURPRISE!”

Patrick nearly jumped out of his skin as the lights flicked on, causing him to drop his helmet from his hands.

His immediate urge was to withdraw his weapon from its holster, but he quickly repressed it.

All around the library, there were party decorations hung on the shelves, and a bowl of punch, which Patrick didn’t doubt was non-alcoholic, sat on a table with a pyramid of glass cups adjacent.

There were many ponies there, as well. Two Pegasi were floating in mid-air, holding a banner bearing “Welcome to Ponyville, Patrick!”

“So, what do you think?” Pinkie Pie beamed.

“Well, I’m just,” Patrick looked for words as he picked up his helmet. “Kind of, surprised.”

“Silly, that’s why it’s called a ‘surprise’ party. It wouldn’t be a surprise party if you weren’t surprised, I mean you should have seen how surprised you were!”

Patrick studied the faces of the ponies around him. They clearly didn’t know what he was, but they were smiling.

“Lighten up, Patrick. If you want to make up for almost running over that filly,” Rainbow Dash whispered in his ear.

After everything that had happened, the last thing he wanted was a party in his honor, at least at the moment. But, he didn’t want to give off a bad impression, so Patrick forced himself to smile and partake in the festivities, suddenly enjoying being the main center of attention here.

This wasn’t really his idea of a party, but it was his welcome party. He had just survived a brutal accident and just got out of a hospital, maybe just kicking back and enjoying himself for a minute or two wouldn’t hurt. He’d have his answers soon. Hopefully.

Patrick took off his jacket, exposing some of his bandages.

Many of the ponies were now very interested to hear about his near death experience, and surviving after being confronted by a manticore.

Patrick was downed a fifth cup of punch, praying for a beer, a shot, a drop of alcohol sometime soon. A large, red stallion approached him, a wooden yoke around his neck.

“Ya’ look like ya’ took a beatin’,” Big Macintosh spoke blandly in a southern accent. “Mighty nice, whatever that thing is outside. We heard y’all comin’ from a mile a way.”

“It’s called a motorcycle,” Patrick replied, noticing a green apple on his flank. “And I’m fine, uh, thanks.”

“So, um,” Patrick tried to make conversation. “What do you do?”

“Ah work the apple farm round these parts, been in mah’ family for generations.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Patrick took a sip from the cup, just trying to keep some sort of conversation going.

“Eee-yup,” Big Macintosh looked as though he was staring straight through Patrick. “Applebuck ten acres everyday from dawn til’ dusk, ‘cept today, when Pinkie Pie comes a runnin’ over with a party invite.”

“I really had no idea this was going to happen,” Patrick shrugged.

“A party’s a party,” Big Mac shrugged. “So, what do y’all do?”

“What?”

“What did ya’ do, before y’all came here?”

“I-uh…” Patrick stopped. A flash of light seemed to perforate his vision for a millisecond, a hot sun beating down from the sky. He could hear voices screaming at him. Rapid, metallic ‘bangs’ seemed to echo in his ears.

“You alright?” Big Mac tilted his head in confusion.

“Y-yeah,” Patrick collected himself and cleared his throat.

Not that he was ashamed of his past, but from what he’s observed about this world’s society so far, he wasn’t sure if he’d receive a warm reception if they knew he was a veteran. For now, it was probably for the best he just keep that all to himself. He could be leaving as soon as Twilight gets back, anyway.

“I, uh,” he tried to think of something. “I worked at a motorcycle shop. I repaired broken-down bikes. Nothing big, I never really did end up making it to college or anything.”

“What in tarnation is this?” Applejack butted into the conversation. “Ah didn’t think Pinkie Pie could pull a hoedown together this fast!”

“Where’s Twilight?” Patrick asked. “She’s supposed to try and help me find a way home.”

“She’ll be here any minute now,” Applejack answered, turning to her big brother.

“Ah’m surprised to see y’all leave the farm for once,” she jeered.

“Ah’m surprised Ah didn’t see you buckin’ in the fields today,” Big Macintosh replied in a mellow tone.

“Now, what’s that supposed ta’ mean?”

“Uh, nothin’, Ah was just-“

Patrick snuck away from the bickering siblings and the party, but only for five minutes, to smoke a cigarette. Each one he smoked, it made him eerily aware of how many he had in stock.

“Okay, I’ll smoke five a day,” Patrick decided. “And I’ve got twenty packs, so that’ll last me for a while.”

Patrick flicked his Marlboro Red and let the ash drift off the balcony.

“Maybe not five, maybe more like six. Or seven. Or-“ Patrick’s mind ran, suddenly remembering he was addicted. An addicted mind would not be able to contain any limits, but it still controlled his stress. If only he could just control those nightmares he seemed to always be having. PTSD is a cruel mistress.

Patrick tossed the short off the balcony window, and turned face to face with a small, purple dragon, standing upright, recoiling slightly.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you,” Twilight apologized.

Patrick and the dragon looked each other up and down.

“Woah,” Spike gazed up at Patrick’s height. “Get a load of this thing, Twilight.”

“Spike, that’s enough. Patrick, this is Spike. He’s a friend of mine and lives here at the library with me.”

“Hey, nice to meet you, little guy!” Patrick held out his hand, but the miniscule dragon crossed his arms.

“Little guy?” Spike grumbled, and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I-“ Patrick stammered.

“I was just going to bed anyway. Have fun at your party,” Spike rolled his eyes and grabbed his blanket, yawning as he crawled up the stairs.

“What did I-“ Patrick started, but then just gave up speaking.

“Spike is a little,” Twilight paused. “Sensitive, about his height. He’s just a baby dragon, though. He can be a little immature at times.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Patrick sighed, as Twilight led him back down the stairs to the party.

“So, did you have anything to do with this?” Patrick asked.

“No, I’m just as surprised as you are,” Twilight remarked. “But that’s Pinkie Pie for you, she’s Ponyville’s personal party mare. Even her cutie mark is party-related.”

“Her what?” Patrick stared at the unicorn.

“What, a cutie mark?” Twilight motioned to her flank, an intricate star pattern imprinted there.

“It appears when a pony finds their special talent. Mine is magic, and Pinkie’s is, well, parties.”

“Cutie marks?” Patrick grimaced. What kind of storybook world was this? Everything seemed to be a rip off of his universe.

It still irritated him that he never got the answers he was looking for, particularly how he could be struck by lightning and transported to “Ponyville.” He expressed his concerns to Twilight before they re-entered the party.

“We’ll look for a way to send you back tomorrow, I promise. Until then, maybe you should just enjoy yourself,” Twilight recounted the days where she was too high-strung to ever go to a party, particularly during her arrival to Ponyville.

For the moment, Patrick put on a mask. He played out the party and sincerely thanked each and every pony for making him feel so welcome, and made sure Pinkie Pie knew how grateful he was for the welcome party.

“So long Mr. Hyoo-mann!” Pinkie Pie bounced along the road back into Ponyville.

Patrick waved as Twilight shut the door with her magic, and gave a sigh of relief.

Soon enough, Patrick found himself leaning off the edge of the same balcony, smoking another cigarette.

“Mind if I join you?” Twilight approached him, towing a small chair with her magic.

“Not at all,” he exhaled a cloud of smoke, inadvertently causing Twilight to cough.

“What are those things? They smell terrible,” Twilight coughed. Patrick outted his cigarette by rolling the ember out, and slid it back in his pack. He always thought it was terribly rude to smoke in someone’s home or around non-smokers. He’d just have to go outside the library from now on if he was going to smoke.

“Uh, cigarettes,” he respectfully put his lighter and pack of cigarettes away.

“How could you enjoy something like that?” Twilight argued. “It just seems so… Unhealthy, to be breathing in smoke all the time.”

“Some people do it to look cool. Some people do it to relieve stress,” Patrick answered, studying the strange constellations in the sky.

“Hey Patrick?” Twilight broke the silence.

“Yes?”

“What’s this?” Twilight levitated a small, heart-shaped medal over to Patrick’s eye level.

“Hey, where did you get this? That’s mine!” Patrick snatched it from the air, taking good notice of how the lightning and his blood had worn the once pristine Purple Heart.

“Sorry,” Twilight’s ears lowered. “It fell out of your jacket, back at Nurse Redheart’s clinic. Rarity read the inscription on the back, but she wouldn’t tell any of us what it said and slipped it back in your pocket. I was curious, so I just kind of…”

“Stole it?” Patrick glared at her. He was very protective about that medal since he’d received it. He always carried it on him, no matter where he went.

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it,” Twilight replied. “I just wanted to see what it said.”

Patrick just looked up at the stars, hoping he wasn’t about to be asked to remember anything he had tried to forget.

“For military merit,” Twilight read the inscription as she levitated it up to her face.

“PFC Patrick Wilcox, United States Army?” Twilight looked at the medal, and then back to Patrick.

“Patrick, what did you do before you came here?”

He closed his eyes. No, he wasn’t about to recall anything from that day. It just wasn’t going to happen.

When suddenly, he was running again. Running from a blazing humvee. Looking at Jose’s dead man’s gaze, and the rest of his friends’ bodies littering the ground, still burning. Dust scraping against his face as bullets impacted the rocks mere inches from him.

He was shot in the shoulder again. He was dragged against the desert sand again. He fired his rifle at the enemy again.

“Patrick?” Twilight waved a hoof in front of his face. “Hello?”

Patrick blinked.

“You’ve just been kind of sitting there for the past few minutes, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Patrick croaked. “F-Fine. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Was it something I said about that medal?” Twilight’s tone sympathetic.

“Yes. And I’d appreciate it if you never asked me about it again. Good talking to you,” Patrick hated to end the night on a sour note, but he was sure he’d be having nightmares now.

Twilight watched as the human curled up on the floor with a blanket and pillow. She insisted he could sleep in her bed, but he wouldn’t allow her to give it up for him.

She flipped through a few books of spells under candlelight, trying to find anything on what could bring Patrick here, and how to send him back. If she could just somehow examine the magic in that lightning bolt, it would be a snap.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t there when the lightning struck. As she flipped through the pages, she found herself dwelling more and more on what Patrick had said before he went to bed. After she pulled out that medal, he literally froze, staring off into space, for several minutes.

Twilight closed her book and climbed the stairs to her bedroom, Spike snoring peacefully. She lifted the covers with her magic and gently nestled into bed, looking at the full moon out the window.

There was plenty of time and plenty of books they could go through. She was confident she could eventually find out what brought that “human” here. But tomorrow, she would have to write Princess Celestia for help.

Chapter 5

September 11, 2015
Atlanta, Georgia
12:03 AM

A hushed, somber wind blew across the empty streets of Atlanta. From the sky, it was a brilliant display of lights, a shimmering diamond on the face of the earth.

The late nights brought drunk drivers, muggings, car jackings, and robberies undercover of darkness and inconvenient timing. A lone patrol car sat still and lifeless, a faint light emerging from a glowing rectangle inside. Its lone occupant played solitaire on a built-in laptop.

It was a slow night, only a few arrests had been made since the sun went down. The officer was too busy working on beating the computer that he wasn’t able to look up in time. A two-wheeled blur raced across town, running red light after red light with no intention of stopping.

The officer glanced up from his computer.

“I didn’t see anything,” he shrugged, dragging his cards from one deck to the next.

The rider of that two-wheeled blur was determined to make it to his destination while breaking every traffic law possible.

The squeals of tires and roars of engines destroyed the silence Atlanta’s industrial district was so used to at this hour. During the day, it was bustling with commercial activity. But after the sun went down, not a soul was present. Much to the delight of Atlanta’s street racing community.

Street racers used to be just a public nuisance, but recent shootings between crews, one even taking the life of a police officer, had changed the city’s attitude. All around the Atlanta, the number of racers and stunters was shrinking and shrinking. Not just motorcycles, but those who raced cars, as well.

A black sport bike, its rider shrouded in equally black gear, tore rapidly through the warehouse district. The rider was able to see the embers of cigarettes, as well as the presence of small brake lights and headlights, at the end of a concrete field. This was definitely the right place.

As was customary for those approaching the race spots, he rode to the side so as to keep out of any racers’ way. Two drag-racing blurs whizzed past him, speeding towards the other end of the abandoned parking lot.

Crews gathered in several spots on their makeshift racetrack, congregated around their bikes. The racers eyed the approaching headlights apprehensively. This unknown rider was alone; it wasn’t often that a racer showed up by themselves, and for good reason. Without the presence of a crew backing them up, it made them a prime target for being stripped of their cash. However, this rider was obviously prepared for that, brandishing a weapon on his hip. He was not the only one at this spot that was packing.

The rider slowly brought his bike to a stop and put his foot down, removing his helmet. His bike looked brand-new, he was probably just some wannabe. The other racers paid him no mind as he lit a fresh cigarette.

The crews were situated all around him. Some sat on their bikes, some sat criss-cross on the hard, concrete ground. Some counted bills on their gas tanks, paying out to those who’d bested them. Eventually, a group of stunters showed up. The rider and the other racers spectated as daredevils showed off their skills.

The young biker always thought it was stupid these stunters would wear nothing but t-shirts and helmets. He never rode without a helmet on his head, and reinforced Kevlar covering every inch of his skin. There was on old saying that had already saved his life once: All the gear, all the time.

An African American rider, wearing a red t-shirt to match his bike, quickly sped across the parking lot and locked the front brake, his Yamaha R1 executing a perfect stoppie. The stunter lost momentum and its rear tire smacked the pavement, but he wasn’t done yet.

The R1 pulled its front tire up, the stunter standing on its passenger pegs and riding his bike in circles while almost perpendicular to the ground. The racers cheered as he held the wheelie for almost a minute, and smacked it back down.

The stunter flipped up his visor, and parked next to the lone rider.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled sarcastically. “If it isn’t little ol’ Greenhorn. I’m surprised to see you around here again.”

“It’s been a while, Dreads,” Patrick and the stunter bumped fists.

“I heard about what happened to…” Dreads looked away for a moment.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Dreads, you know this guy?” a member of his crew asked.

“Oh yeah, man,” Dreads took off his helmet, revealing his long dread locks, undoubtedly the source of his nickname.

“We go way back.”

“New bike?” Dreads looked his Honda CBR1000 up and down.

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick smiled, and tapped the gas tank between his legs proudly.

“Ooh, speed,” Dreads admired the custom sprockets Patrick had installed, as well as his Yoshimaura performance exhaust.

Patrick experienced difficulty leading a normal life after his honorable discharge. Even with military experience, it was hard to find a place in society.

The first thing he did after returning to civilian life, before taking out a loan and blowing ten grand on the bike between his legs, was a trip to the local gun store. It was quite easy for a decorated veteran to obtain an open-carry permit.

Patrick had entered the world of street racing when he was only sixteen years old. After fleeing from a race that got busted almost three years ago, he found an APD Crown Vic’ waiting for him in his driveway. The one time he conveniently forgot to remove his tag left him with his bike impounded and the loss of his license.

Street racing, though, had easily landed him several thousand dollars on a good night. To make sure he’d get paid, and for protection from those that wanted his money without earning it first, Patrick depended on the .40 at his waist.

“Well, since you’re back in the ‘hood,” Dreads stroked his goatee. “How’s about you and me drag?”

It caught Patrick off guard.

“What, right now?”

“Yeah, you heard me white boy,” Dreads crossed his arms.

“Alright, I’ll throw down three hundred on that,” Patrick smugly smacked three hundred-dollar-bills onto his gas tank.

“Big spender, that’s a little more than your usual fifty bucks back in the day,” Dreads laughed.

“Shut up and race me,” Patrick slipped on his helmet and strapped on his gloves.

Dreads did the same, and they lined up at an empty parking space. The parking lot was behind a warehouse, which kept prying eyes from seeing the source of the ear shattering roars and cries from the two wheeled deathtraps.

It was a half-mile stretch from one point to the other. Just a quick drag race, for old time’s sake. Patrick could definitely outdo Dreads, there was no question in his mind, though.

A scantily clad blonde strutted out between the bikers and raised both her arms into the air. Patrick shifted into first, and squeezed the front brake. He locked his rear tire, and slowly opened the throttle.

His rear tire squealed, and billowed white smoke. His bike demanded to go forward, but Patrick was firm on his front brake, and executed a burnout.

Dreads had pulled off a burnout, as well. Soon enough, Patrick found himself grinning ear to ear. It was the first time he’d raced in years. The thrill, the adrenaline rush. It was all coming back to him.

The blonde let her arms down, and both the bikers rocketed out of the crude starting line on unmaintained asphalt. Dreads had even managed to pop a wheelie right from the start. He’d always been a show off.

Patrick pinned the throttle, expertly disengaging it and re-engaging it to shift. He clicked into the next gear just before his tachometer redlined. Dreads was just ahead of him, his t-shirt fluttering with the wind, but Patrick was making headway. His bike was almost maxed out, he couldn’t go any faster without red-lining, risking blowing his engine.

“Fuck it,” Patrick thought, and tucked his head down under his windshield, laying his feet on the passenger pegs; he was not about to lose his first race since restarting his street-racing career. With a flick of his wrist, he gunned the throttle.

The illuminated digital speedometer reached one hundred and sixty miles per hour as the RPM gauge was pinned to the very end of the red zone.

His temperature gauge was slowly reaching the overheating point. They circled around the large, abandoned parking lot, heading back towards the spectators.

His engine was nearing its limit. At this point, he’d be lucky if he didn’t blow it out. But Patrick continued to push it harder. His speedometer reached one hundred and seventy miles per hour.

They were neck and neck, but Patrick had managed to prevail. He passed the makeshift finish line next to the other racers just a few feet ahead of Dreads.

He and Dreads pulled back into the line of bikes, Patrick pocketing six Benjamins.

“Yeah, you still got it. You one crazy honky,” Dreads bumped Patrick’s fist. “But next time, I’m shooting out your tires,” he flashed his Colt 1911, and slid it back in his waistband.

Patrick laughed, and settled back down to brag about the race. It wasn’t too long before everyone fell silent, and was looking in a certain direction. He turned his head.

Two headlights side by side, joined by a flashing blue light, had infiltrated their riding grounds. The racers scrambled to put their helmets on and start up their bikes, riding around the police car on the wide parking lot with ease.

The APD knew it was useless to try and chase bikes, it was only a waste of gas. Still, it was odd that only one police car showed up, usually it was two or three.

Suddenly, there was a very audible thrumming approaching. The same kind of thrumming that could be associated with helicopter rotors.

“They got a chopper on us?” Dreads bellyached. “Sheeyit, this just got interesting.”

“Just try and keep up,” Patrick revved his engine, popping a quick wheelie past the stationary cop and shot out of the parking lot. Dreads followed close behind.

The thrum of helicopter blades and its searching spotlight was only getting closer and closer...

“You’re getting much better,” Nurse Redheart unwrapped the bandages on his arm and chest. “How’s the pain been?”

“Not bad,” Patrick stated.

It had been three days since he ended up in Equestria. Since his stay at the library, he had been reading up on pony culture and history, as Twilight, increasingly getting discouraged, searched through every book she had for answers to Patrick’s growing questions, and anxiety.

Nurse Redheart, with the aid of Nurse Tenderheart, undid the bandages around his chest, and cleaned his most serious wound. They carefully worked as a team, and re-wrapped the bandage. Even without stitches, his wound was beginning to finally seal. The burn on his arm was doing well, but it limited his mobility tremendously. While even second-degree burns heal relatively fast, it would be a while though before he fully recovered.

“All done,” Nurse Redheart smiled, and showed Patrick to the door. “Just make sure not to strain anything too much, we need to keep that wound closed.”

As he was just leaving, Ponyville’s mail-mare, with a patch of bubbles on her flank, trotted through the door of the waiting room. Her daughter, Dinky Doo, bounced along behind her. Both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Patrick.

Patrick looked at them for a moment, and decided it wasn’t worth it. He continued exiting the building without saying a word.

“Oh hello Ms. Ditzy. Are you ready for your eye exam, Dinky?” Nurse Redheart asked.

“Yeah!” Dinky Doo chirped. “I bet I have better vision than my mommy!”

Patrick smoked a cigarette outside, finding himself falling into a routine. It was his first time actually going into town by himself since he got here. Every three days, he’d need to go to Nurse Redheart’s for a check up. Every morning, Rainbow Dash would come crashing through the library’s window, begging Patrick to start up his motorcycle and come watch her fly. Every night, he and Twilight would study together, going through book after book, trying to find anything on the human race or magic of the degree that could snatch him from his universe and drop him here. Twilight had a few interesting leads, but he was still getting nowhere.

Although, he was genuinely appreciative of all the help that everyone had been to him since he got here, minus a few ponies, particularly that gray one, and any other pony that would just stare at him. But it did make him think about his living situation. Patrick couldn’t ever accept favors or gifts without giving something in return. Twilight and her friends had saved his life, given him a roof over his head, and Twilight even cooked for him.

And what did he do in return? Nothing. Just like being honorably discharged from the Army after being wounded, he felt worthless. Just a burden to society.

Passing ponies stared at him as he stood there, in his motorcycle boots, jeans, and his T-Shirt. He showed up to this universe with the clothes on his back, and whatever was in his pockets and motorcycle. He wanted to use his bike to get around. After all, he’d not fully recovered, and walking can become a bit of a chore when you’re still recovering from burns and gaping wounds in your chest.

Still, he needed to be smart about the gas in his tank. It was a miracle his motorcycle only suffered cosmetic damage, it was a miracle he was even alive, for that matter. But his bike still ran, it still drove, to the limits of its fuel tank. He needed to save all the gas that he could, in case he might need his motorcycle for whatever reason. It didn’t hurt to be prepared by having a quick, 200-mile getaway should he ever need it.

Having seemingly each and every pony stare at him as they walked by was starting to get at him. Patrick ashed his cigarette under his boot and walked down the cobble stone road, away from prying eyes that were trying his patience. His feet were getting extremely sore. The armored motorcycle boots that wrapped around his feet and shins were not designed for everyday walking.

After taking many strained steps, Patrick found himself on a dirt path, surrounded by a farm and rows of apple trees. He spied an orange earth-pony hard at work off in the distance.

She charged an apple tree, using the force and momentum to kick with her hind legs. All the apples fell into awaiting baskets below.

“Wow,” Patrick said. “That was impressive.”

“Mhmm,” Applejack commented, admiring her work. “Ah just wish Ah could get a farmhoof round here.”

Patrick’s eyes lit up.

“A job!” he thought. “Why didn’t I think of it before?” Even though Patrick was pretty down on himself for mooching off of everyone, he could still give back to them somehow.

“Hey, uh, Applejack, right?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, but as long as I am, how about I be your farm hand?”

“You’d really be willin’ to do that fer’ me?” Applejack smiled. “But, ain’t you still injured from that crash?” she pointed to his clearly bandaged arm, and a bit of banding protruding under his t-shirt.

Patrick’s good vibe faded. He had been pretty sore the past few days, but it was nothing that would have kept him from going to a normal job back home. There were certain things he couldn’t do, so as not to risk re-opening the gaping wound under his bandages, but maybe there was something he could do so he wouldn’t feel so useless.

“Listen,” Patrick started, as he helped Applejack carry a basket of apples to a farm carriage.

“Twilight has really been helping me out. I mean, you all have, since I got here, but she opened up her home to me, you know?”

“Right,” She balanced a basket on her back. “So, what’re you gettin’ at?”

“Well,” Patrick grunted as he set the basket down on the wood carriage. “I just don’t want to feel so useless, I guess. I feel like I should try to give back a little bit, at least.”

“Aw, sugar cube, that’s mighty kind a’ ya’, but she ain’t got no money problems. She’s the princess’s student, ya’ know.”

“I know,” Patrick replied. “But still, I don’t like to let good deeds go unrewarded. Just give me a shot.”

“Well…” Applejack weighed her options. “Ah’m sorry, but Ah really need somepony who’s able bodied and can pull their own weight. Ah don’t mean anything by that, but it’s just, you’re still recoverin’ from when we found you in them woods. Ah can barely afford to keep this here farm runnin’, if Ah’m going to hire a hoo-er, hand, Ah’ll need em’ ta’ work hard.”

“Oh,” Patrick’s heart shrank. “I understand.”

“Now hold on there, Ah’ll tell you what,” Applejack quickly retorted. “Ah’m ‘bout to go bring some apples into town to sell at mah’ stand. If y’all wanna help me with that, Ah’ll throw you some bits, but only for today.”

“I’d be glad to,” Patrick’s eyes lit back up. He and Applejack loaded up her carriage as Big Macintosh hooked himself up to it.

Big Mac pulled them into town, where Patrick and Applejack unloaded their harvest of apples to be sold to the public. Things were going good, they had sold many bushels of apples, until a group of three stallions cockily traipsed towards their stand.

Something about them threw Patrick off, so he watched them like a hawk. As they walked by, one of the stallions, a gray earth pony with a black mane, snatched a few apples from the stand.

“Hey!” Applejack cried. “Y’all didn’t pay for them apples!”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t!” the stallion took a bite as his two cohorts laughed belittlingly.

Patrick stood up from his post and confronted the gray stallion. He wasn’t quite as buff as Big Macintosh, but he was still big. Big enough for Patrick not to mess with him if he didn’t have to, but he still felt compelled to say something.

“What the hay are you supposed to be?” the colt mocked.

“Now, you’re gonna pay for those, or I’m gonna make you,” Patrick crossed his arms.

Suddenly, it felt like he’d been hit by a train. A strong blow had knocked him to the ground. The pain was so intense, he could swear he’d seen stars.

The human weezed in and out on the ground, his lungs struggling after having the wind knocked out of them. A throbbing pain shot up his chest underneath freshly wrapped bandages.

The stallion and his two partners in crime cackled at him. Applejack gasped in shock, and gritted her teeth in anger.

“Stay down, unless you want bandages on your other arm,” the stallion stomped his hooves. Patrick’s t-shirt hid the bandages on his chest, making it hard to see just how injured Patrick really was at first glance. A small crowd of ponies had assembled to watch what was going on.

He rolled over in agony, a hand gripping his chest. The stallion had head-butted him directly on his wound. Patrick flashed an angry expression at Applejack, who merely stood and watched. Why was no one helping him?

"Just let it go, Patrick," she whispered. "It ain't worth lettin' you get hurt over a few apples."

He looked back up at the gray stallion, his ego bursting from his cocky expression. He had left his Glock back at the library, after Twilight had finally convinced him he would be better off not walking around with a loaded weapon. Reluctantly, he agreed. Even if he did have his handgun, shooting somepony over a few stolen apples wouldn’t go over well with the community.

“What’s the matter, miss your mommy?”

But he was not going to give this jerk-off the satisfaction of bullying him, or Applejack. His pride just wouldn’t let him stay down.

The human uneasily rose to his feet, bringing up his hands. He swung his fist into the side of the stallion’s skull as hard as he could manage. The wound in his chest unmistakably tore even more, almost making him lose his balance. The stallion winced back in pain, but he stood his ground.

“Oh, you just made a big mistake.” Before Patrick could throw another punch from his good arm, the gray stallion spun around and bucked Patrick in the chest, knocking him back to the ground in the same manner as before.

“Had enough?” the stallion flashed a cheeky grin.

It went against everything the Army had taught him, and everything he believed in, but he was in no condition to fight. Sure, military hand-to-hand combat had trained him well, but not how to fight a fucking horse, while injured. Anyone who’s ever ridden horseback would agree: A pair of bucking hind legs from a stallion could easily crack a skull. Trying to fight one hand-to-hoof, while crippled, was probably not a good idea.

Patrick dejectedly lay on the ground, staring menacingly into a pair of cocky, green eyes. For the first time in his life, he just had his ass handed to him.

“That’s what I thought,” the gray stallion took another triumphant bite of the apple, as he and his cohorts left the scene. With seemingly every pony in Ponyville staring at him, Patrick buried his face in his hands, feeling overwhelmingly humiliated. It wasn’t enough he was this weird, alien two-legged creature to them, he just got the shit beaten out of him in front of everyone.

“Aw’right, come on,” Applejack turned him over, helping him up. “You’re fine, he didn’t hit’chyall that har-“

Applejack stopped midsentence. A warm, red liquid had seeped through Patrick’s shirt, and began to puddle on the ground.

Some ponies still lingered, murmuring to themselves inaudibly from where Applejack stood. None of them were helping, or even condemning the stallion’s actions. Applejack felt a fit of rage build up inside of her.

“Y’all see that?” Applejack pointed towards a growing red stain on Patrick’s shirt and the cobblestone ground. “Even though he was injured, he was only tryin’ ta’ protect mah’ stand, and here all of y’all just watch? Y’all are just gon’ let somepony hogtie any stranger that comes to visit our town, just ba’cause he looks odd?”

The crowd gradually dispersed, although a few ponies moved by Applejack’s speech had come over to help Patrick up.

“Someone ought to teach those menaces a lesson,” a brown stallion with an hourglass cutie-mark shook his hoof.

Applejack walked him to Nurse Redheart’s clinic, stopping just outside the door.

“Why in Ponyville would y’all try somethin’ like that, when Ah already couldn’t give y’all a real job cuz’a yer’ injuries?”

Patrick clasped a hand over his chest, dripping with blood.

“I just couldn’t sit there and let that happen,” Patrick coughed. “Although, looking back, that probably wasn’t such a good idea.”

Applejack fished into her saddlebags and withdrew a small, velvet bag.

“Here,” she held out her hoof in sympathy. “This is fer’ today.”

“I only worked for a few hours,” Patrick shook the bag as many coins clanged together inside.

“S’the least Ah could do, seein’ as y’all got hurt on tha’ job.”

“Thanks,” Patrick stuffed the bag in his pocket, a grimace of pain on his face. “I’m sorry, I really should have just let it go.”

“Ah don’t know what y’all did for a livin’ before ya’ came here, but it sure wasn’t makin’ dresses. Ah’m going back to mah’ stand, stay outta’ trouble.”

Nurse Redheart wasn’t happy all her previous work had been undone because of Patrick’s carelessness, but after hearing about how he stood up for Applejack, she was happy to help.

“You’re going to need stitches this time,” Nurse Redheart sighed, examining the re-opened wound. They had just stopped the bleeding again, but this was not going to heal quickly.

“But we won’t be able to do that until tomorrow. For now, just,” she emphasized it with her hooves. “Take it easy.”

Patrick nodded, and exited the clinic. He clutched his chest as he walked, looking over his shoulder often in paranoia. Soon enough, his feet were killing him again. He wanted to rip off his motorcycle boots and throw them into the volcano of Mordor, never to be seen again. But they were the only footwear in this entire universe that fit him.

The human took a break from walking for a moment. He was exhausted, walking under so much pain. It would be so much easier if he just had a regular pair of shoes.

“Look out!”

Patrick stepped out of the way just in time as a rainbow-maned Pegasus crashed into the ground.

“Sorry,” she stood up, shaking it off. “Still trying to get this new trick down. The Wonderbolts are coming in a few days and I want it perfect when I-“

Rainbow Dash stopped. A freshly dried, red stain crept down from Patrick’s shirt to his jeans.

“What happened to you?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Patrick grumbled. “Got my ass kicked for standing up to some dick who stole from Applejack’s stand.”

“What?” Rainbow Dash replied. “Why didn’t you just fight back?”

“Look at me!” Patrick made a crude gesture to his arm and chest, wrapped in gauze. “Half of me is taped together right now, and I can’t even walk for more than five minutes at a time because of these friggin' boots.”

“So, just take them off?” Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t have hooves,” Patrick shrugged. “Humans kind of need shoes.”

“Well, if that’s what you need,” Rainbow Dash pointed towards a giant, frilly white building. It looked to be a fashion store of some sort. “You should look there.”

Twilight could wait a day or two, he needed to focus on his immediate problems. Maybe he could find a tailor who could custom-make him a pair of shoes. Patrick entered the building, a bell attached to the top of the door announcing his presence.

“Come in, come in!” a fashonista with a purple mane, sporting a pair of red shades, sat rolling a few threads of fabric through a sewing machine.

“Patrick!” Rarity stood up from her work, and happily trotted over to him.

“What brings you here?”

“I didn’t know you were a fashion designer,” Patrick glanced around at the many mannequins with elegant dresses and outfits.

“But of course,” her face brightened. “I design only the finest clothes in all of Equestria. I even designed the other girls’ dresses for the Grand Galloping Gala! You should have seen them!”

“I’m sure they were just… Lovely,” Patrick didn’t really know what she meant. “Well, I wanted to ask you something.”

Patrick withdrew a handful of coins from his pocket, and then brought one of his feet forward. “I just need some regular shoes.”

The white unicorn looked his boots up and down, messing with a strap once or twice. “I hate to say it like this Patrick, but,” she grimaced. “These boots are just dreadful. I don’t know who dressed you, or who designed these, but I can’t imagine what these, these…” She stammered. “These… Things, would even go with. Maybe in the winter, though…”

“They’re designed for racing, and protection,” Patrick replied. “-For riding. But, they’re terrible for everyday walking. I just really need something more comfortable.”

“Patrick, darling,” Rarity shook her head, dumping the coins back into his pocket with her magic.

“After everything you’ve been through, I couldn’t charge you a single bit. I’ll need to design something from scratch, but there’s never anything I haven’t been able to make.”

Rarity sat Patrick down and began taking measurements of his boots. He pulled his boots off so Rarity could further measure him.

“Wait here,” the fashonista whipped back to her sewing machine, and began working with her materials, her horn glowing madly.

Patrick reclined for several hours, reading through a few pony fashion magazines. He found himself wishing for just a Time or Newsweek, anything that wasn’t about fashion.

He must have nodded off, because when Patrick opened his eyes, Rarity was shaking him violently.

“Patrick! Wake up!”

“Huh?” he rubbed his eyes.

“I finished!” Rarity levitated two black, canvas and leather sneakers, which were based on the lower halves of his boots and the crude dimensions of a shoe he had scribbled onto a piece of paper for her. She even got the laces and all, just right.

He slipped them on and tied the laces quickly. Patrick rose to his feet, smiling. It was the most comfortable pair of shoes he’d ever worn. He took a few steps, remarking to himself that it felt like he was walking on air.

“Oh yeah, much better! Rarity, I can’t thank you enough. If there’s anything I can ever-“

“Shh!” she shushed Patrick. “Not another word, it is a favor from me to you.”

Patrick grabbed his boots, thanking Rarity for the hundredth time, and found himself being tugged on the shoulder by her magic. He spun around.

“Yes?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” a hint of seriousness in her voice.

“Oh?” Patrick set his boots down.

“I saw you and Grayburn get into a bit of a scuffle this afternoon.”

Patrick’s looked away in shame. He really didn’t want to talk about this right now.

“Also, when we found you,” Rarity removed her shades. “A pendant fell out of your jacket. Not to be nosy, but I read the inscription on the back.”

“Yeah, who hasn’t?” Patrick was slightly irritated now, but his hand shook nervously, emphasizing the weakness in his voice.

“So, you were in the Royal Guard in Atlanta?” she asked.

“No, not exactly,” Patrick broke eye contact.

“Twilight told me you seized up after she just asked you a question.”

With that, he marched quickly towards the door.

“Where are you going?!” Rarity ran and blocked his path.

“Please excuse me, I need a cigarette,” Patrick withdrew one from his pack.

“That’s no way to deal with your stress,” Rarity shook her head. “Yes, Twilight told me about that, too.”

“If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

“No,” Patrick replied.

“Tell me,” Rarity frowned, her eyebrows furrowing.

“No.”

“Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellmeeeeee,” she whined.

Patrick covered his ears, but he couldn’t drown out Rarity’s protests. He felt his anxiety bubble in the back of his skull, his heart beating out of his chest. Patrick kept everything pent up for so long, it was hard to let it just come out. It was as if a bubble had been blowing up inside his heart for years, and it just burst.

“I WAS IN A WAR!” Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs. Rarity stopped her whining and froze.

“There! Are you happy? I was a soldier! I went to war, I killed people, I got shot, and I watched my closest friends die!”

Patrick panted heavily as Rarity stared at him, her mouth gaping. He picked up his boots and stormed out of the boutique.

He leaned up against the wall outside, inhaling a thick, gray cloud of smoke into his lungs. His hands were shaking.

The lush, green fields and shrubbery around him made him mad. Everything about this place seemed to anger him. It was too perfect; it was nothing like Earth, like the United States. They had everything figured out here. There was no war, there was no famine, all there was… Was peace, minus some stories of ancient, powerful alicorns duking it out every thousand years or so.

And the only hope he had to get back to Earth, the world that ran on sin, money, greed, misery, murder, and war, lay with a letter he and Twilight had sent to Celestia today. Why did he want to go back? It’s not like anything would be different. All he had to look forward to was a flat, alcohol, and some street racing. That was it.

“Patrick?” Rarity shyly poked her head out of the door as the bell jingled behind her.

He was sitting up against the wall, his face buried in his hands. The burning cigarette was set between two fingers.

“Patrick,” she sat down next to him. “Are you going to be alright, darling?”

Patrick nodded, and looked down at the grass. He and Rarity sat for some time, it could have been hours for all he knew.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick finally uttered. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“No, dear,” Rarity stood up, lifting Patrick to his feet with her magic as she led him back inside. “I had no idea that’s what ‘military merit’ meant. Honest.”

Patrick had only spoken about the ambush once, and it was at his friends’ funeral. He had never really spoken from the heart about it, though.

"-So I just ran," Patrick explained to Rarity. "Even though I got hit by frag, I ran as fast as I could. I made it behind these rocks, and by the time I got away, the other vehicles in our convoy just got… got," he struggled not to let any tears flow down his cheeks. "They just exploded. And when I looked back, all of my friends, the ones I had enlisted with, were just laying there. Still on fire.”

“How did you get away?” Rarity, as wide-eyed as ever, listened to Patrick’s tragic tale of human warfare.

“I got wounded running back to my guys. They had to drag me to their cover, I just barely made it. It wasn't a normal war, all we could do was die.”

“Who was your country even fighting?” Rarity asked.

“Everyone. They didn't fear death! They'd strap themselves with explosives, dress up in civilian clothing, and blow themselves up next to any patrols! We were there to protect those people, and the kids in the villages would throw rocks and trash at us!"

“That’s positively terrible!” Rarity gasped. “Why in Equestria would you put yourself in that situation? Why would you even want to be a soldier?”

“I had nowhere else to go,” Patrick felt a tear drip down his face, but quickly wiped it off.

“Surely, you did,” Rarity said.

“I was eighteen years old. My mom was in the mental hospital, my father got put in prison, so I lost my living arrangement. I was on probation for street racing and lost my license. I couldn’t even get a job, because I had no way of getting there. My only other option was to be homeless! Still think I had somewhere else to go?

“No,” Rarity shook her head. “I suppose you didn’t.”

“My friends… They had been there for me through it all. But the whole senior year, I had to listen to them talk about how much Taliban ass they were going to kick when they enlisted together. My friend, Jose… His family even let me stay with them after my parents couldn’t take care of me anymore.”

“So you did it together?” Rarity said.

Patrick nodded.

“I never even wanted to join the military, but they roped me into it. They were the closest thing I had to a family, I couldn’t just let them leave without me. It’s not like I had anything else going on, anyway.”

“Have you told Twilight this?” Rarity asked. “The entire reason Twilight is here is to study friendship on behalf of Princess Celestia herself.”

“No,” Patrick shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“I think you should tell Twilight,” Rarity spoke softly. “When you’re ready. I believe that not only would it help you, but it might even help with her studies, too.”

He and Rarity talked for hours, until finally, Luna began to raise her moon.

“I just hope you don’t think I’m some kind of monster, now,” Patrick stood up, grabbing his boots.

“Not even in the slightest,” Rarity hugged Patrick, and he awkwardly bent down to receive it.

“Don’t ever let anything get to you, Patrick. You can let all that go, and your life will be so much better. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Patrick began his walk back to the library, clutching his chest every now and then.

Maybe he’d start feeling better after he got stitches, so he could at least stop ripping his chest open every other day.

Though, it really did feel like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he finally talked to someone heart-to-heart about everything that had been ailing him for so long.

Even though she insisted he tell Twilight about his ordeal, he didn’t really feel ready. Especially after everything that happened today. Maybe he would talk to her about everything, in time. For now, he just needed to continue focusing on finding a way home.

Patrick stepped through the door, Twilight and Spike had just finished cooking dinner.

“Hey!” Patrick set his boots down.

Twilight looked at his shoes admiringly. “Wow, did Rarity make you those?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anyone else to do that good work,” Twilight levitated a bowl of salad onto the table, as well as a few other vegetable and fruit themed dishes.

“What happened with you and Grayburn earlier?” Spike eyed Patrick suspiciously. “Everyone’s talking about how you and him got in a fight.”

Twilight and Spike were staring at him.

“I don’t really wanna talk about that,” Patrick sighed.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked with concern, noting that his shirt looked like he tried to wash blood out of it recently.

“I’m fine,” Patrick’s chest ached. “-Really. Nurse Redheart is going to have to give me stitches tomorrow, though.”

“Yeah, bro, I heard he tried to steal some apples from Applejack’s stand and he beat you down when you stood up to him. What a bully,” Spike crossed his arms indifferently. “You should have just popped him with that hand-cannon you got.”

Spike made a crude gesture of a pistol with his fingers, pretending to shoot Patrick with it.

“Spike, don’t even joke about that,” Twilight gasped. “Patrick and I have had a long conversation about that weapon of his, haven’t we?”

“Yep,” he said submissively. “It’s also for the best you don’t know where I hid it.”

“Oh, come on!” Spike grumbled. “At least let me shoot it once!”

“Sorry,” Patrick gestured to Twilight. “I don’t think your mom would like that too much.”

Spike rolled his eyes indignantly.

“What were you doing with Applejack today, anyway?” Twilight asked.

Patrick dumped a pocket full of bits onto the table.

“I was her farmhand for a day,” Patrick shrugged. “And bodyguard, I guess. But that didn’t turn out too well.”

“Wow,” Spike stared into the pile of gold coins. “That’s a lot of money!”

He shoved the stack of loot towards Spike and Twilight, and went to the kitchen to wash up.

“Patrick, you know I have no problem having you around,” Twilight came into the kitchen.

“I know,” Patrick dried his hands off on a towel. “But it’s never really been my style to have someone give me a place to live, and cook me three meals a day without giving back somehow.”

“I’m the princess’s student. I’ve got more than enough to get by, you don’t need to feel like you need to pay me rent. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Just give it to Spike then,” Patrick laughed. “Because I’m not taking it back. Besides, what am I going to do with it, anyway?”

The three of them sat down for dinner, and it even seemed like Spike was warming up to him. Still, Patrick dwelled on his conversation with Rarity for the past few hours. He had basically told her everything that had been ailing him. Why her? A stranger in another universe? For that matter, why would she just make him, a stranger she met a few days ago, a custom made pair of shoes from scratch?

Maybe, it was the same reason Applejack paid him so much, and gave Twilight everything he’d received. Maybe, everyone in this universe, was just…

Spike was about to take a bite of gemstones, when he burped surprisingly. A cloud of green fire emanated from his mouth and formed a scroll, tied with a royal seal.

“The princess has finally responded!” Twilight burst from her chair, and snatched the parchment from the air.

She unrolled it as Patrick watched her eyes roll back and forth.

“Just as I was hoping!” Twilight beamed. “The princess has requested a royal audience with you, Patrick!”

“Huh?” he and Spike said simultaneously.

“Wait, I have to talk to the princess?” Patrick asked.

“Yes! Aren’t you excited!” Twilight jumped around in her seat.

He and Spike exchanged glances. Spike shrugged, and dug into his bowl of gemstones.

Patrick picked at the salad on the plate in front of him nervously.

Chapter 6

Canterlot was a true masterpiece of pony architecture. It was, quite literally, built into the side of a cliff, giving all of its royal and high-class residents a bird’s-eye view of Equestria. Several waterfalls dropped thousands of feet, completing its magnificent appearance of the most regal city in Equestria.

Princess Luna called upon her magic as she gracefully floated across the sky. She beat her wings steadily to maintain a generous altitude, as magic emanated from her horn. The sun slowly gave way, needing its rest now. The moon seemed especially eager tonight to take its rightful place.

No, not its rightful place. Luna wasn’t even going to entertain that thought. As much as Celestia insisted it wasn’t her fault for what happened with the Nightmare Moon incident, deep down, she truly believed it was. She had been destroyed, and overcome by some evil force. Celestia still seemed reluctant to even speak to her about that. She had always seen Luna as her little sister, and couldn’t accept the fact she could take care of herself.

But Celestia had seemed a lot different, recently. Something appeared to be troubling her, ever since that lightning bolt had struck the Everfree Forest during that day.

Luna even had to admit that it was odd. She had been sleeping at the time, and awoke after sensing a very, very large presence of magic. She knew Celestia was losing sleep over it, as she would see her pace back and forth each night off her balcony, staring off into the Everfree forest. Waiting…

The moon princess glided gently to a stop onto her balcony. She folded her wings as she entered her royal chambers.

“Sister?” Celestia called from the center of the room as waves of magic rolled through her mane. She seemed to be waiting for her.

“Tia?” Luna asked. “Aren’t you normally going to bed now? Don’t you have to get up and raise the sun?”

“Of course,” she smiled, but Luna could still tell something was wrong.

“What’s troubling you?”

“Come,” Celestia nudged Luna with one of her giant wings.

They dismissed the guards in the throne room. Celestia wanted to make sure only she and her sister would hear the conversation about to be had.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about, Luna,” Celestia murmured, as they admired Luna’s work in the sky.

“Hm?” Luna’s eyes widened, as she could tell it was definitely serious. She felt her heart might skip a beat. Her sister was finally including her in on things! Tia finally no longer saw her as a child, knowing she could handle whatever she was about to tell her!

“Yes!” Luna shrieked happily, surprising Celestia. “Erm, yes, do go on, sister.”

“Right, as I was saying,” Celestia continued, and pointed towards the Everfree forest.

“While I never addressed it with you personally, I’m all too aware you felt the disturbance from the Everfree Forest several days ago.”

“It’s been much more than several days!” Luna wanted to yell, but she was just happy to be included for once.

“Yes, sister. And it troubles me. Have you discovered the source of this, disturbance, then?”

“Luna,” Celestia paused. “Have you ever wondered why you and I raise the sun and moon every day?”

Luna was silent. That was her entire life, that was her purpose. To be a royal deity to the ponies of Equestria and give them the sun they needed for crops and play, and the moon for sleep and calm.

“Celestia,” Luna shook her head. “The thousands of years we’ve lived, I have never once questioned that.”

“Long ago,” Celestia’s gentle tone now sounded like a teacher lecturing a student.

“Please,” Luna interrupted. “Spare me the story of my banishment.”

“No,” Celestia replied. “If you’d have let me finish, you’d know this story took place long, long before that.”

“How long before?”

“Even I am not sure,” Celestia uttered. “But it’s the reason for the creation of Equestria, why you and I rule together, and why ponies must control the weather, take care of the animals, and why we must raise the sun and moon. There was a time, sister, when all of this happened on its own.”

“But, this all happens in the Everfree Forest,” Luna said. “The plants grow, the weather controls itself, and the animals fend for themselves.”

“True,” Celestia answered. “And even that boggles all of our scientists that on patches of our world, the environment seems to work without magic. And me, as well. But because of recent events, I believe it’s time I finally told you the truth of our existence. Are you ready, Luna?”

Luna nearly burst with excitement.

“Yes!” she replied as calmly as possible so her sister would see how mature she was about the situation. Unfortunately, it sounded like a dog yipping with joy after someone utters the sacred word: “Treat.”

Celestia took a deep breath. “We believe it was thousands of years ago. Equestria was once a planet called Earth. The weather occurred on its own, the sun and moon raised themselves, and the plants and trees grew all on their own. It was inhabited by a very diverse spectrum of creatures. The dominant species at that time was called humans.”

“Humans?” Luna repeated. “Those old legends… They were true?”

“Yes,” Celestia nodded. “They were an extremely intelligent race. In fact, most of our society and technological advances, even our culture, has come from them.”

Luna listened intently to Celestia.

“From what we’ve been able to piece together from artifacts and ancient documents, human beings were indeed very intelligent, even brilliant. They did wonderful, beautiful things. Terrible things, too.”

“Such as?” Luna asked.

“Wars, even genocides, like we couldn’t comprehend.”

“And…?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “What does this have to do with the magic we felt from the Everfree forest?”

“Quite a lot, Luna,” Celestia re-gathered her thoughts.

“It has been a closely-guarded secret of the royal family, since before even you and I ruled. While we have always been able to keep peace, it is only because of how strongly our society is based on values, such as friendship. My faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, continues to contribute to that constitution.”

“As I’m aware,” Luna replied. “Did they use magic?”

“Artifacts discovered over the generations have led us to believe that at one point, they did. But their technology was greater than anything we could ever hope to replicate. Very few artifacts survived age, but many others, even books, have been restored using alicorn magic. Archaeologists all across Equestria have discovered remains of entire cities buried underground, as well.”

“They are extinct, then?” Luna said.

“They are long extinct, yes,” Celestia looked off into the distance.

“And just what was the cause of their extinction, Tia?”

“I’m afraid I can’t really answer that for certain,” Celestia sighed. “While no one knows for sure what happened, it is commonly agreed amongst the scientific community that when humanity was at its peak, it had one of the greatest wars this world has ever known. Then, they vanished.”

Luna tried to imagine a human war, when she didn’t even know what they looked like.

“Why was it so difficult for their nations to just live in peace, then?”

“It’s hard to say, since it was such a long time ago,” Celestia answered. “They created very advanced weaponry, and at the peak of their society, several of the most powerful human nations on Earth had enough to destroy the world.”

Destroy the entire world? Even using magic that would be no ordinary feat. To kill, destroy, and dismember every living thing. That truly made these humans…

“Gods…” Luna whispered.

“No,” Celestia put a wing over Luna again. “They were not gods. They were like anypony else. They loved one another, they married, they had children, families, societies, even sports, arts, and literature, just like we do.”

“Then, how did-“ Luna didn’t know what else to say, expecting Celestia to finish for her.

“Maybe I should just continue,” Celestia said. “The Earth was running out of its natural resources. The humans population grew faster than the world could create the resources they needed. Over time, this caused a famine on a massive scale, and the Earth’s remaining super powers fought over any natural resources remaining. A powerful, religious alliance also played a role in sparking the conflict.”

Celestia looked over her shoulder, to make sure no one was present.

“What is it, sister?” Luna sighed.

“This is why I have ruled the way I have, and made such an effort recovering human artifacts. To learn from the achievements, and the mistakes they made, only then could we maintain peace.” Celestia nodded.

“Humanity may have achieved so much in their lifespan, perhaps more than ponies could ever achieve. But it was for that very reason they had the single greatest war this world has ever known. This war killed almost every last human man, woman, and child, and eventually led them to their downfall. It is for that reason that I have purposely shrouded any knowledge of the human race from the general public.”

Luna was about to speak, before Celestia shushed her.

“Come, I must show you something.”

She led Luna into the Canterlot library’s royal archives. Ancient pony texts and scrolls were under heavy guard until Celestia dismissed them.

“Only my sister and I are to be present,” Celestia spoke to an armor clad, white Pegasus royal guard.

“As… you wish, princess,” Surprised, the guards quickly left the royal library and left the two sisters alone.

Celestia’s horn glowed, and illuminated a bookshelf from the stone castle wall. It slid to the side with an audible creak, as dust filtered into the air along with it.

It revealed a hole in the wall, an entrance to a long corridor, with a musty smell of age.

It appeared nopony had been down this hallway for a very, very long time. Celestia used her horn to light the way.

They arrived at a massive subterranean chamber. It was quite large, nearly as large as Celestia and Luna’s throne room. Celestia used her magic to light several torches, filling the windowless chamber with light. Stacked upon shelves were dusty, decaying books and parchments, brought up from the ashes of human ruin by Celestia herself.

A rusty, decrepit engine sat encased in a glass box to keep it preserved, as well as other examples of human technology. Some of it looked very early, like a cracked, glass screen encased in a rotted, wooden box. Others looked advanced and complicated.

The room was almost like a museum. One section was unmistakably dedicated to weaponry; rusted, aged swords, shields, and loosely intact firearms, existing by only the narrowest of margins.

More decrepit and precious artifacts were encased in preservation boxes to protect them from decay. There were photographs framed on the wall under protective glass, some faded completely so that nothing was legible to the naked eye.

“This is nearly every human artifact I’ve found since humans disappeared from this earth. Larger artifacts are in a different chamber.”

“How did it happen?” Luna looked through certain artifacts. Celestia showed her to a peculiar arrangement of documents, many written in languages Luna had never seen before.

“These are the latest, dated documents I possess in the archives that describe what happened to humans.”

Two yellowed parchments that appeared to have been laminated with a material similar to glass were encased in a preservation box.

“Please, read,” Celestia insisted. Luna’s eyes scrolled across the first parchment.

“Their language,” Luna gasped. “They spoke Equestrian?”

“They spoke many languages and dialects,” Celestia answered. “But where do you think Equestrian originated from?”

Luna looked back to the article on the parchment. It appeared to be a newspaper clipping. If it was thousands of years old, how could it not have decayed?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Celestia’s mane rippled with magic. “We used magic to restore many of these papers and books we’ve found in ruins. Almost everything was destroyed, but we continue to find more artifacts occasionally.”

Luna dropped her eyes back to the ancient parchment. Adjacent to the content of the newspaper article was a photograph of a city street. Dozens of bodies littered the ground as a group of figures, donning bright, yellow HAZMAT suits, examined several groups of corpses. They appeared to be looking for survivors.

She could see patches of grass and trees neatly framing the street, their vivid greens reduced to pale, lifeless grays. Her eyes drifted to the beginning of the article.

New York Times
June 13, 2042

IRAN LAUNCHES NUKES, WASHINGTON ANNOUNCES APOCALYPTIC SCENARIO

Iranian president Al-Shallah and the Republican Islamic Alliance has claimed responsibility for the attack on the western seaboard of the United States. The death toll has been estimated at over one hundred million in the immediate affected zone and continues to rise. All contact has been lost with any North American state or territory west of the Mississippi River. There are no presumed survivors.

Fallout radiation clouds are expected to reach the east coast at approximately 8:00 PM EST tomorrow evening.

“Please cooperate with your local and state authorities’ evacuation procedures. What few fallout shelters remain are currently being populated.” Said US Defense Secretary, Allen Richman.

Washington has declared a complete state of emergency in all fifty states and has urged all un-evacuated citizens to stay inside and arm themselves for the days to come. United States President Stephen Grant has released this statement:

“My fellow Americans, it has been a very difficult time for us all as friends, neighbors, communities, and fellow citizens as we have endured the hardships of this world-war for the past decade. This country was brought up as a beacon of light in a world of darkness on that fateful day of 1776. Nothing can ever crush the determination and spirit of the American people.

But the United States has fallen victim to an attack from which we cannot recover. Anarchy has already broken loose in communities where survivors remain. Our military has suffered a massive blow and is no longer able to function. I thank you for electing me to protect you as your president, but I have failed. Islam’s holy war against America has finally been won.

The United Nations has determined that constant nuclear warfare across North America, Europe, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia has increased the Earth’s natural radiation to dangerous levels. The nuclear contamination zone is expected to include every Sovereign State within 72 hours. The UN has informed me that in less than thirty days, Earth will no longer be able to sustain life.

It is with a heavy heart that I say… This is the end of the world, and we lack the capability to stop it. My heart goes out to those unable to reach adequate radiation-proof shelter. I urge you all to spend your last moments with friends and family.

I hereby resign as Commander in Chief of the United States Armed Forces and incumbent President of the United States.

It has been an honor serving as your president for two terms.

God bless America.

-Stephen Grant

Former President of the United States of America

Editor’s note: We at the New York Times sincerely thank each and every reader for looking to us for the world’s top stories since our humble beginnings in 1851. We wish you the best of luck in the days to come. While we wait for the end, one can only wonder how we, as the human race, got to where we are today.

No matter what you believe in, may God have mercy on your soul.”

There was another document, in a preservation case just adjacent to the article. The language it was written in contained alphabetic lettering, but contained odd symbols, as well.

Printed on clean, white paper, it seemed somepony had recently translated the article. It appeared to be a flyer of some sort.

Vladivostok Komsomolskaya Pravda
14 June 2042

EVACUATION!

All residents advised to evacuate Vladivostok immediately!

Fallout radiation has created a contamination zone across the globe and continues to intensify. The Kremlin has declared Martial Law across all provinces of the Russian Federation. Curfews have been set in place from 06:00AM to 22:00PM.

Motorized Rifle Troops will be conducting evacuations from 07:00AM to 12:00PM and 16:00PM to 21:00PM on 15 June 2042 at the Pacific Fleet Naval Complex.

Please bring a form of identification and no more than one personal baggage item.

Luna could not find the words to express the many emotions she felt in her heart.

“This is… incredibly shocking,” Luna stammered. “Those were very desperate times, indeed.”

“Yes,” Celestia frowned. “It’s not clear, as during this period almost everything was destroyed on Earth, but the entire planet rotated, revolving around the sun, and the moon orbited the earth. Night and day occurred as their own.”

Celestia took a few steps back, staring into a glass preservation box on top of a table. A worn, leatherbound book sat inside. In scratchy, faded lettering, the title read “Holy Bible.”

“Until…”

Luna looked up from the newspaper clipping. “Until what?

“Until those who came before us… Started anew.”

“Who?” Luna demanded. “Who came before us?”

“Since the fall of man, two alicorns have always ruled. The ones we have replaced… I know nothing of.”

Luna slunk down. She was finally mature enough in Celestia’s eyes to handle this information, but she was starting to regret hearing it. She understood Celestia’s reasoning, though. It wasn’t humanity itself that was to blame for their downfall, it was those who lead them, and did not act in the best interest of their subjects. By learning from their mistakes and ruling accordingly, it would ensure prosperity for future generations.

“And while there has always been two powerful alicorns in Equestria, there has always been one alicorn, equally powerful as the two combined. You met that alicorn when you became...”

Luna shuddered. “No,” She shook her head. “No, no, no, no!”

Celestia knelt down, wrapping a wing around her sister in a tender embrace.

“After the humans disappeared, the alicorns that came before us renewed everything in their image. The secrets of what happened were lost in time, since recorded pony history began.”

“Why are you telling me all this, then? What’s all this buildup for?”

Celestia paused.

“Do you remember the day I banished you?”

“Yes…” Luna murmured. “I was so full of rage. All I could think about for centuries was how I was going to get back at you. How I was going to hurt you…”

“Just as the Nightmare began overtaking you, I spent almost three days meditating. I had a very important decision I was about to make. Do you remember that?”

“Yes…?”

“Luna,” Celestia nervously sighed. “I never had to banish you. I could have saved you with the Elements of Harmony, and isolated the Nightmare, instead.”

Luna was silent for some time.
“YOU WHAT?!” Luna bellowed at the top of her lungs. So loudly did she shout, Celestia was afraid the Royal Guards several stories up would hear her and blow the lid off this secret chamber.

“I told you, it was not your fault,” Celestia said. “Please, just let me explain, I-“

“How could you?” Luna cried. “How could you do something like this to your own sister? You banished me to the moon for a thousand years when it wasn’t even necessary?!”

“Please, Luna,” Celestia calmed her down. “If I had done so, the Nightmare would have gone free. Had that have happened, Equestria would have been no more. The Nightmare had already picked a host, and unfortunately, it was you who had to take that sacrifice. I’m so sorry, Luna.”

Luna squeezed her eyes shut, making every effort not to shed a single tear.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, it hurt me in so many ways, and I still have sleepless nights when recalling my decision. By banishing you, as Nightmare Moon, I had time to come up with a solution. The Elements of Harmony; when used by my student and her friends; was only powerful enough to merely disrupt it. Temporarily. It took the entire thousand years you were gone to cast the spell, but I found hope.”

“And just where did you find this hope?” Luna asked sarcastically, repressing her anger and tears.

“The past.”

“How?” Luna questioned.

“It was a very difficult spell to cast, even for me, without changing the past so that Equestria would never exist. I found a human being that had the potential, and his disappearance would not create a time paradox. Very subtlety, I manipulated certain events so they would turn him into what Equestria needs.”

Luna and Celestia sat together, neither speaking a word for what seemed like an eternity.

“Then the lightning in the Everfree Forest,” Luna started. “That means…”

Princess Celestia turned her back and spoke in a low, gentle tone.

“Yes,” she let her mane expand and contract in magical ripples. “I have brought a human to Equestria, and we need his help. And he will not want to give it to us after all I’ve done to him.”

Chapter 7

November 30, 2013
1700 Hours
Zambar, Sabari District, Khost Province, East Afghanistan
US Army PFC Patrick Wilcox
187th Infantry
Charlie Company

It had been an uneventful, unmounted patrol through the small, humble Afghan village of Zambar. Every now and then, NATO troops would patrol the villages surrounding their Firebases. The commander in this area was really getting on the 187th Infantry’s ass about “connecting with the locals.” Private First Class Wilcox declared, for lack of a better word, that it was a load of-

“-Bullshit,” Patrick stomped through the muddy streets, wetted by a recent and rare monsoon.

“You got that right, man,” PFC Nguyen grunted.

“Come on, guys,” Specialist Reyes shook his head. “How are the people here supposed to like having us around, unless we actually show them we’re not out to kill everybody?“

“Maybe when they stop setting up IEDs on the roads we drive on,” PFC Thornton replied.

“Or when they stop cursing at us in Arabic every time we walk by,” Patrick said.

“Every village is the same. They know that we know that they know the Taliban are here,” PFC Campbell retorted.

Reyes nearly tripped over a round object that had made its way under his foot.

Jose looked up. A group of children, wearing simple, poor robes, were playing soccer in a side yard. The Specialist slung his M4A1 and kicked the ball back to the kids, who started chattering in Arabic. Jose simply smiled.

“What?” PFC Green, along with PFC Campbell and PFC Armistead, broke ranks to observe the children’s gestures and exotic language.

“What are they saying?” Louis asked.

“They want us to play with them!” Jose laughed. “See? This is the perfect chance for us to really connect with these people!”

Jose’s fellow soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. It had become an unspoken fear: Being around a group of Afghans brought the threat of a suicide bomber.

“Oh come on,” Jose dropped his rifle and took off his helmet. “Commander Dicks-for-Brains told us to connect with the locals, so let’s do it.”

“Fine,” Patrick dropped his rifle and unhooked his gear, becoming eerily aware of his surroundings with no body armor or weapons at close reach. The children had set up two buckets on each side of the lot to act as goals. Six United States Army soldiers versus a handful of Afghani children. You don’t really see that every day.

And the villagers knew that. Many had begun to gather to watch the game unfold. The children, small and quick, darted between the soldiers’ legs. What had seemed like a chore had turned into a cheery and friendly soccer match. Even though most of their audience was rooting against them, they were laughing and smiling.

Everyone was. The kids, the soldiers, even the adults and tribal elders that had come to watch. After the children scored a fifth goal against them in a row, Charlie Company decided it was time to throw in the towel.

“Alright, we give up!” Jose addressed in Arabic. The crowd, as well as the children laughed. Gradually, everyone dispersed. Patrick was busy hooking his body armor back on, when he felt a tug on his pants leg.

He spun around. A small girl, wearing a veil over the top of her head, spoke softly in Arabic after lifting a white flower, freshly picked from a crack in the pavement, up to the soldier’s face.

“Shokran jazeelan,” she smiled.

Patrick was speechless. Since his arrival to Afghanistan, all of his interactions with the Afghan people involved being rebuked in Arabic, and having trash thrown in his face. A month ago, someone emptied a chamber pot onto him from a window as he walked by. Ryan and Jose had to hold him down to keep him from retaliating.

He smiled, and took the flower, tying the stem around a loose strap on his tactical vest. Patrick undid his wristwatch. It was a cheap piece of rubber and plastic, something you could probably buy at your local department store for five bucks, but it was like a diamond in the child’s eyes. He strapped it around her wrist.

“Shokran,” Patrick replied to her, and stood up.

“Okay! Woah, ha ha, don’t touch that!” Jose laughed as one of the children tried to hold his rifle, quickly snatching it away. “Alright bye! Bye!”

“Shoo, go back to your mother!” Ryan laughed. “Okay, okay, get out of here!

Many children lingered around them, begging for candy and the chance to hold their rifles.

Eventually, they were able to shoo them away and continue their patrol.

“See, guys?” Jose shrugged his hands. “Told you.”

“Maybe everyone around here isn’t so bad,” Spencer answered.

CRACKKKK KATHOOOOOMmmmmmm!

Charlie Company frantically stacked up against a wall as an overwhelming, giant explosion rocked Zambar. A cloud of smoke loomed in the distance.

“Uh, Bravo-Two Actual this is Charlie-Two. We just had a large explosion in the northwest end of Zambar. What’s going on, over?” SPC Reyes held his hand to his radio headset.

There was a brief lapse in communication.

“Charlie-Two, we’ve just received word from Bravo Company that a car-bomb was detonated about half a click from your position. We’ve got one wounded, zero KIA.”

“Roger, we’re on our way, Charlie-Two out,” Jose let his hand drop.

“It’s gonna be a good day, boys,” Jose threw his hands up with fake enthusiasm.

"Oh, fuck,” Patrick shook his head. “You know when he says that, he thinks the shit is going to hit the fan.”

Patrick stepped around a spot of mud on the street. “I mean, what the hell are we doing here? We’re not even Rangers, we’re just grunts.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Louis trudged behind PFC Wilcox in formation. “Remember when our recruiter said we’d be sitting around, drinking the finest Afghan booze and smoking the dankest Afghan herb?”

“Ha!” Spencer replied sarcastically. “Maybe, if we’d have all stayed in Atlanta, we’d be passing a round a big, fat joint and a bottle of Smirnoff right now, instead of getting stuck in this shit hole.”

“United States government: one. Us: zero,” Joe whined.

“Stop your bitching and do your job,” Jose instinctively glanced around the rooftops and alleyways before advancing around a street corner, his fellow soldiers in pursuit.

“Yes sir, mister Squad Leader, sir,” Joe commented sarcastically.

“Maybe you could learn a little something about doing your job from a Mexican,” Patrick teased PFC Campbell. “You ni-“

“Say it, and I’ll pop a cap in your ass, white boy,” Joe barked.

“Neeeever mind,” Patrick replied playfully.

It wasn’t long before they reached the site of the car-bomb explosion. Bravo Company had set up a perimeter while they waited for Charlie Company. The open space in the street was shrouded in dust from the explosion, settling sluggishly.

Bravo Company’s medic was dressing a wound against a soldier’s neck. His arm was in a splint and his leg elevated against a sandbag on the ground.

“Tripwire,” the commanding officer explained. “Could have been set off by anybody. Even some kids running around.”

“Somehow,” Jose shook his head. “It doesn’t surprise me tha-“

CRACKKKkkkkkk!

Patrick’s adrenaline surged through the back of his head, seemingly slowing down time briefly. A soldier examining the wreckage of what used to be a car dropped to the ground in slow motion, as a spray of red and white burst from his helmet.

“Shit, sniper!” Joe screamed. The two companies of US troops scrambled to cover and took up defensive positions. It was obvious what the Taliban was attempting to do, and it happened to so many unfortunate NATO souls all across tribal Afghanistan.

A car bomb with a tripwire would be rigged where US troops patrol. After it was triggered, all troops in the area would come running to investigate. Once all their victims had neatly assembled for them, Taliban snipers would pick off as many Americans as they could before they were sent to meet their “72 virgins.”

“Dragunov!” a Bravo Company soldier shouted over the radio. “Southeast, second story window!”

Another gunshot, this one from a different direction, burst across Zambar. Its local residents fled to safer ground.

“Shit, there’s another one! Third story spider hole, southwest!”

Patrick, Jose, and Joe were stacked up against the southeastern wall of the building the sniper had perched.

“Louis, blow his ass up!” Jose barked. Louis nodded, and undid a fragmentation grenade from his tactical vest. He removed the safety pin and squeezed the trigger.

“Now! Covering fire!” Jose screeched. Charlie Company rose from their cover and began firing upon both buildings.

RA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA

Deafening, automatic 5.56mm assault rifle fire rattled the small village.

CRACKKKkkkkkk!

The Taliban sniper, surprised at the sudden burst of fire, missed his shot.

“Fire in the hole!” Using the covering fire to his advantage, Louis lobbed the ball of metal as hard as he could into a second story window almost a block away. Less than a second after landing, it detonated and caused most of the second floor of the flimsy, aged building to collapse in a puff of smoke and shrapnel.

“Shit,” Joe punched Louis on the shoulder. “Nice throw.”

“I honestly didn’t think it was going to make it, either,” Louis shrugged as the gunfire died down.

CRACK-PINGGGG!

Jose’s head jerked back and he collapsed to the dusty pavement.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Joe, Patrick, and Ryan dashed over to Jose’s body as they pulled him to cover.

“Is he…?" Joe held his breath.

Jose’s desert ACU-printed helmet was dented in just above his right eye. The metal had cut into his forehead, but it deflected the sniper’s bullet. The impact had smashed the lens of his goggles strapped to his helmet.

“Lucky son of a bitch,” Spencer helped Jose up.

“Snap out of it man, you’re good,” Patrick patted him on the back, but Jose was traumatized, running his hand over the dented part of his helmet.

CRACKKKKKK

“We’ve still gotta take care of that sooner or later,” Ryan nudged Patrick.

Ryan led Charlie Company from cover to cover, where they met with Bravo Company behind street corner a block from the sniper’s position. Jose, badly shaken, had to be left with Bravo Company.

Bravo Company sent waves of suppressing fire as Patrick, Ryan, Joe, Louis, and Spencer dashed through the street and stacked up against the door.

"It could be booby-trapped," Spencer warned.

Everyone was aware. But after this sniper had killed one of their own, and almost pegged Jose, it got personal.

“Pat, you lead,” Ryan said. Patrick nodded.

He waited until the sniper tried to make another shot at US troops, and using the cover of the soviet sniper rifle’s characteristic discharge, he kicked in the door. It reduced the slab of wood to scrap and splinters.

It was dark inside the Taliban’s hidey-hole. Dusty beams of sunlight fluttered down from barred windows, almost resembling a prison.

As they climbed the stairs to the third story, Patrick had picked out a trip wire set up in the stairway, connected to the safety pin of a hand grenade. It only added to his anxiety, but they pressed on, stepping as quietly and carefully as they could.

Occasionally, shots still rang out from above and below. When they finally reached the third floor, Patrick could smell gunpowder. The sniper was definitely around here somewhere.

Each gunshot appeared to be leaking out of a slightly ajar door. Patrick stacked up against it, his friends doing the same.

“Breach!” Joe hollered, and Patrick kicked in the door. A very surprised sniper, sporting a red and white turban covering his entire face, spun around from his perch against a window, swinging his rifle around towards Patrick.

Patrick placed his illuminated crosshair on the Taliban sniper, and mercilessly opened fire. Ear shattering blasts filled the small, contained space. There was no sympathy for someone who had just tried to kill his best friend.

The sniper dropped to the ground, miraculously still breathing, but disabled. Patrick’s friends stood around the Taliban sniper, who was trying to reach for his rifle, but lacked the strength to do so.

“Should we, you know...?” Ryan stuttered, as he unhooked a combat first-aid kit from his tactical vest.

Joe shook his head. Even though a turban cloaked the sniper’s face, his eyes spoke only anger, murder, and Jihad.

Patrick withdrew his Beretta M9, and cocked it to fill the chamber. His fellow soldiers nodded.

PFC Wilcox stepped forward, the sniper’s eyes glowing with a brainwashed rage. The young soldier took no joy and what he was about to do.

Patrick lowered the hammer, and took aim directly at the masked gunman’s forehead. He and the Taliban insurgent locked eyes. As he looked into those fleshy orbs, a cloudy, unwelcoming feeling pooled into his mind. If he didn’t know better, he’d say demonic voices were whispering in his ears.

Bravo Company, still securing the perimeter outside, heard the unmistakable sound of a 9mm execution.

“Hey!” Nurse Redheart called out to Patrick, bringing him back to reality.

Patrick blinked, and sat up on the bench in the nurse’s office.

“Huh?” Patrick looked around expectantly.

“I’ve been calling you for a couple minutes,” Nurse Redheart tapped her hoof.

“Sorry, I was just,” Patrick shrugged. “Day dreaming… I guess.”

“It’s alright. But we’re ready, come on back,” she led Patrick into a small operating room. Nurse Tenderheart was already present.

They laid him down onto an armchair, and adjusted it due to his size. They were ready to start the procedure.

Each stitch felt like a burning hot stake had stabbed into his chest. A bead of sweat dripped down Patrick’s face as he gritted his teeth in pain, fighting the urge to jump out of the chair.

He dug his hands into the hospital armchair, struggling not to need them to stop again. Every time he cried out in pain, Nurse Tenderheart and Nurse Redheart, with the assistance of a unicorn nurse he hadn’t met before, had to stop the stitching, and then start all over again when he thrashed his chest in pain and undid the stitches.

“Haven’t you guys ever heard of anesthesia?” Patrick said through clenched teeth.

“Yes,” Nurse Tenderheart dutifully put another stitch in his wound. “But we’re not sure if it would suppress the pain, or kill you, since we’ve only tried it on ponies.”

“Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” Nurse Redheart jeered.

Finally, Nurse Tenderheart stood up and withdrew the needle. A six-inch line of spiky medical thread was visible just above the skin.

“Done!” Nurse Tenderheart clapped her hooves in emphasis.

Patrick let out a weak whimper and closed his eyes.

“Here,” Nurse Redheart gave Patrick a tube of some sort of medicine. “Rub this on the wound twice a day. It’ll help with any pain or discomfort associated from the stitches.”

Patrick pocketed the tube of medicine, and stood up from the chair, putting his shirt back on.

“Is something wrong?” Nurse Tenderheart zipped up a medical bag, and put assorted utensils away.

“No,” Patrick replied sarcastically, picking at the stitches. “I just got stitched without any anesthesia. Nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nurse Redheart interjected. “Before you came in here, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

“W-why do you say that?” Patrick stammered, as dark thoughts crept through the back of his mind.

“Well, you just looked kind of flustered, was all,” Nurse Redheart shrugged.

“I-I guess,” Patrick tried to think of something. “I just don’t like needles. I-I was nervous about the procedure, that’s all.”

“Alright,” Nurse Redheart raised an eyebrow. “Just be careful, now.”

“And no getting into fights, young man,” Nurse Tenderheart wagged her hoof at him, like a schoolchild.

“Okay, mom,” Patrick replied sarcastically.

“She’s right,” Nurse Redheart led Patrick back outside. “Avoid causing stress to that wound, it could very easily rip out those stitches.”

“I could be going home soon, anyway,” Patrick sighed. “I’m meeting with Celestia and Luna tomorrow.”

“Really now?” Nurse Redheart’s eyes widened. “We’re going to miss having you around, if you leave.”

“Oh come on,” Patrick laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find another voodoo doll to poke needles into around here.”

Patrick departed the clinic, his movement feeling a lot less restricted now. He was a bit sore from the stitches, but they were necessary after he picked a fight yesterday. He had no one to blame but himself for that, trying to fight Grayburn with his injuries.

He withdrew a cigarette and held the filter in his mouth, cupping his hands around his lighter to shield it from the wind. As he inhaled, a familiar feeling of nicotine buzzed in his bloodstream, and calmed his spirit.

It was nerve wracking, showing his face around town after what happened yesterday. He could feel eyes on him, but ignored the irritating stares, focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other.

At least physically, the stitches strained his movement a lot less than bandages, but it was going to take some getting used to. And they were itchy as hell.

What really made today different, though, was the nightmare he had last night. Ever since his honorable discharge, he’d been having nightmares and flashbacks to his military career. But something was very peculiar about the one last night.

Not to mention, there was something different in general about his nightmares when he slept in Equestria. They were much more vivid, and they were very different than the ones he had before.

In his last nightmare, he was ambushed again, but this time he was alone. He could feel bullets impact him, but felt no pain, only extreme fear. Panicking, he’d fire his rifle on his unknown enemy, hiding somewhere amongst a black void.

Everytime he pulled his trigger, he received only a lazy click. Patrick even checked his magazine; it was full! So he ran. He ran into the nothingness, the infinite desert and black void around him. Bullets continuing to impact him, but they did not slow his sprint; they only injected feelings of extreme despair everywhere they touched to the sound track of his friends burning alive.

Patrick’s hands began to shake, just thinking about last night. He took a hit of his cigarette, and it ceased.

He remembered staring into his own eyes in the mirror, after jolting awake this morning. They looked tired, even battle-fatigued. But last night’s was no ordinary, run-of–the-mill nightmare, it was the worst one he’d ever had.

It didn’t surprise him that Nurse Redheart noticed he seemed visibly upset. But he couldn’t afford for anyone to think he was insane, he just needed to talk to these princesses, have them wave a magic wand, and send him home… Maybe.

The letter they sent back only stated the date and time of his royal audience, nothing more, really. For all he knew, they could have no idea how to send him back. But they controlled the sun and the moon, which was no small feat. Surely, they’d know a way.

His train of thought was interrupted as he noticed three familiar stallions, walking steadfastly towards him from a market stand.

Patrick’s chest went cold in fear, feeling like a small child about to be confronted by bullies.

Somehow, that hadn’t noticed him yet, busily conversing among themselves.

Patrick stepped back into a shadow cast by a building, leaning against a wall. He put his hands in his pockets, his head pointed towards the ground, but his eyes on the three thugs across from him. Blending in with the shadows, they passed him right by.

Patrick gave a sigh of relief, and continued walking after he was sure no one was following him.

He found his mind racing as he neared the library on a number of things. Anxiety took over his mind, dominating it with a pessimistic presence.

“No,” Patrick inhaled one last hit before tossing his short away. “I just need to clam down. The last thing I need right now is for everyone to think I’m crazy.”

Patrick turned the doorknob built into the gargantuan oak tree library, hearing faint sounds of activity and voices on the floor above. Stepping quietly, he ascended the stairs, but not completely. In the room right above his head, it seemed like some kind of meeting was underway.

“-And he was screaming pretty loud in his sleep last night,” Spike said. “I don’t know how much longer I can take having him around.”

Patrick sidled up against the trunk of the tree, stopping just before his head could be visible at the top of the stairs.

“Spike, Patrick doesn’t mean to. All that screaming is starting to get old to me, too, but we have to help him. Where else can he go?” Twilight replied.

So, he’s been screaming in his sleep every night? Patrick had no idea, but it made sense though, because of his nightmares. It made Patrick nervous, now feeling embarrassed to face them. He continued to listen in.

“Ah know Ah shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Applejack added. “But he shows up out of nowhere and don’t know where he is, don’t talk about himself, and killed a manticore with that canon he’s got. An’ that fight with Grayburn yesterday…”

Applejack was here too?

Right, they were supposed to talk about going to see Celestia and Luna today. How many ponies knew about all this? Why were they all going behind his back?

“You were there, too, Rarity” Applejack said. “What did y’all make of it?”

“I…” Rarity stuttered.

Patrick could tell she was obviously going to try and protect him, since he spilled his heart out to her yesterday.

“I think he…Erm… Was just defending himself! …From that ruffian. I don’t see anything wrong with that in the slightest. And he was only trying to protect your stand, Applejack. I think you’re misjudging the situation.”

“Patrick’s tough,” Rainbow Dash said. “Almost as tough as me. Even though he got his butt whooped, I still think its pretty cool he stood up for Applejack.”

“I think he’s super-duper fun!” Pinkie Pie chirped. “But, I mean, I’d be a Mr. grumpy-pants sometimes, too, if I got zapped into a world where I didn’t know anypony. Who would come to my parties?”

“And he’s nice, for the most part,” Fluttershy murmured. “Patrick never talks about himself, though. I asked him about what he did before he came to Equestria, and he just changed the subject. He definitely seems to be hiding something. Oh, not that I would know. I’m sorry.”

“Ah asked him the same thing,” Applejack said. “Ah am mighty thankful for him protectin’ mah stand yesterday. But anytime we try to get him to talk about himself, he starts makin’ stuff up. Trust me, Ah can tell.”

“I do believe you’re just being too hard on him about yesterday,” Rarity huffed. “He got hurt again, he was only going to see Nurse Redheart. I created him a magnificent pair of shoes yesterday, they really bring out his eyes. I hope you’ll get to see them when he gets back. He even offered to pay me for my services.”

“And he was really fun at the party!” Pinkie Pie said. “Everypony in town seemed to like him after that.”

“As long as you don’t mention that medal he carries with him everywhere,” Twilight sighed. “He has been a good house guest, though.”

“He may have good manners,” Spike grumbled. “But how long before he goes and turns into some kind of kung-fu zombie in his sleep? What if he hurts somepony?”

“Oh, Spike,” Rarity shushed him. “I’m sure Patrick would never do that… consciously…”

Patrick buried his face in his hands, contemplating what he should do. He had a royal audience with the Princesses of Equestria, and they wanted to try and help him. He’d been stuck here for more than a week now, counting the days he’d been in a coma, and to make things worse: The closest things he had to friends here were now afraid he was going to kill them in his sleep. Patrick cursed the day he signed that paper at the recruiting office. He hated everything about the Army now. The conformity, the ranking system, the barracks, the food.

And the Army had taken everything from him. His time, his health, his friends, and now his sanity. What did he have left?

It also irritated him that they were going behind his back about all this; but then he put himself in their shoes. A strange, alien creature who screams in his sleep is living with them, killed a monster, picking fights, but won’t even talk about himself? Sure, it’d be a bit nerve wracking.

Patrick quietly sauntered back up the steps, seemingly no pony noticing him as he emerged from the staircase carved into the tree. Patrick cleared his throat, and knocked on the wall to get their attention.

“Oh, hey, Patrick!” Rainbow Dash looked around apprehensively. “We were…” She examined Patrick’s facial expression. “Just… talking about you.”

“You didn’t happen to hear-“ Rarity’s ears lowered.

“Yeah,” Patrick lowered his head a little. “I did.”

He paused for a moment.

“Have I really been screaming in my sleep at night?”

“Yes,” Twilight nodded.

“The neighbors came over to check on us, one time. You do the math,” Spike said. Twilight was quick to scold him.

“I really didn’t know,” Patrick hung his head in shame.

“Oh goodness, what have you been dreaming about that would make you scream in your sleep?” Fluttershy said.

And, as usual, Patrick changed the subject.

“Listen, I really appreciate you all helping me until I can figure out how to get back home,” Patrick tried to smile, but it looked like he was trying too hard.

“I know I don’t belong here, I just want to go home. And I’m not going to hurt anyone, I would never do anything like that.”

“Aw’right,” Applejack threw her hooves in the air in frustration. “What’re you hidin’ from us?”

Patrick frowned, those words hitting him like an arrow. The hot-seat was not really where he needed to be right now.

He just needed to get away from everything.

Away from all the questioning ponies that wanted to know about all his problems, away from the nightmares, the staring ponies downtown, the paranoia, his memories of combat. And he still never got the answer to the question he’d been asking for a week now: What the fuck was he doing here?

Everyone stared at Patrick now. Feeling self conscious, he couldn’t bring his head up. The humility he felt overwhelmed him.

He rose to his feet, not making eye contact with anyone, and grabbed his Glock, motorcycle jacket, his helmet, gloves, and a spare pack of cigarettes out of the dresser he’d been keeping his things in.

“Where are you going?!” Twilight jumped in front of him, but the human just stepped around her and slipped on his gloves.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick simply shook his head.

The human quickly climbed down the steps, and picked up his helmet, staring at his own reflection in the tinted visor.

His eyes looked tired, and reeked of shame. Screw saving gas, he just needed to get away from everything for a little while. The questions nopony could answer for him still rattled around in his brain. What was he doing here? How could a lightning bolt strike him and send him here? Why isn’t he dead? Why does the dominant species here speak English? Why is everything a ponified rip off of human culture?

“Patrick, wait!” Applejack and Rarity tried to jump in front of the door as Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy watched, but there was no keeping the human in the library.

He withdrew his key from his pocket, and sat on his motorcycle parked behind the library. It had been sitting outside for a week now, if Patrick ever got home, he was going to meticulously scrub each and every inch of pollen covered metal and fiberglass with a toothbrush.

The six ponies burst out of the library, just in time to see Patrick start up his bike. The engine roared to life and let out a low growl. He shifted into first, and slowly let out the clutch while adding throttle.

Twilight dashed in front of his bike, staring into the tinted visor that hid his face and reflected the world around them.

“Just stay, we can help you! We’re going to Canterlot, even the princess wants to help. How can you just leave? Where are you going to go?!”

“I need answers!” Patrick lifted up his visor, and sped off in the direction of the Everfree forest.

Sweat began to fog up his visor temporarily. Even though his motorcycle gear was a bit warm for this weather, and Equestria didn’t have any helmet laws, the last thing Patrick wanted was to end up face down, arms, legs, and neck broken, in a ditch when he was still recovering from wounds and burns. All the gear, all the time. No exceptions.

As he gained speed, a small smile crept across Patrick’s face. He hadn’t ridden in days, due to him trying to be smart about his gas tank. But there was no point now. So what if he’d use up a gallon or two of gas today. He was fed up with everything at this point.

Patrick’s street tires were not made for dirt roads, they were dual compound. Meaning: They were hard in the center for increased tread life, then soft and sticky on the sides for better cornering. It made it difficult to find grip, and that subsequently sent him sliding around in the dirt several times.

“If only I had a dirtbike,” Patrick thought.

But this was more than enough for him. The wind in his face, the hum of the engine between his legs, the throttle responding to each ever so sensitive and precise flick of his wrist, the deep, throaty moan of his exhaust pipe. Everything that had been building up his stress seemed to melt away.

He hadn’t ridden in days, riding had always helped calm him down. His motorcycle was one of the few things left in life that truly gave Patrick joy.

Keeping a steady yet safe speed, to avoid spinning out his tires, he entered the Everfree Forest. He wasn’t exactly sure where the crash site was, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find. If he remembered right, it had burned a hole in the middle of the forest, which wouldn’t be easy to miss. Patrick kept a close eye on his trip odometer, slowly the ones places creeping to the tens place.

The wildlife scurried for cover whenever Patrick approached. Squirrels hid on opposite sides of trees, and birds ceased chirping. A thin cloud of dust followed Patrick as his tires kicked up earth. Thick rows of coniferous and deciduous trees stretched as far as his eyes could see. Every once in a while, he’d come upon a clearing, inspect it, and find it was not the one he was looking for. Since he was unconscious when he was brought into Ponyville, he had no way of remembering the way.

Following his gut, Patrick continued down the main path, avoiding any side trails. Several times, gnarled branches and less-than-suitable road conditions forced him to walk his bike between the trees in some areas, but it was quite easy to traverse the woods since he had his bike.

Patrick slowed his motorcycle to a stop in a clearing and turned off the engine, putting down the kickstand. He dismounted his bike, scanning the woods for any predators. He had already stopped in five clearings, not a single one resembled the one that the lightning struck.

The human removed his helmet, and smacked himself in frustration.

“Ugh!” Patrick groaned. “Everything looks the same in this forest. It could have been down any of those other paths I passed. I’m never going to be able to find it at this rate.”

It was then that Patrick heard a familiar fluttering of wings. His gaze shifted upwards, scanning the treetops and the sky between the thick canopies of leaves.

Patrick crossed his arms.

“Rainbow Dash!”

All was silent, minus heat crackling off his exhaust pipe.

“I don’t have time for this!” Patrick called into the woods. “So just come out!”

Rainbow Dash guiltily slumped over in mid air, revealing herself from behind a tree.

“Yeah, Twilight sent me to follow you,” Rainbow Dash lowered herself to the ground. “Why’d you flip out back there?”

Patrick turned his back and lit a cigarette, taking a quick puff before responding.

“It’s complicated, okay?” he exhaled. “How’d you even know where to find me?”

“Um, duh?” Rainbow Dash flapped her wings.

“…Right,” Patrick rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I need to get going.”

“Going where?” she watched as Patrick tossed his cigarette butt away.

“I need to find out what I’m doing here,” Patrick strapped his helmet back on. “And so far, no one’s been able to tell me anything. Maybe I can find some clues back at the clearing I landed in.”

Aside from the use of “no one,” instead of “no pony,” What Patrick said made sense to Rainbow Dash. There was one thing that did not, however.

“But, I mean,” Rainbow Dash leaned a hoof against Patrick’s bike. “You can’t just wait until tomorrow, when we see the princess?”

“No,” Patrick shook his head.

“You reeeeally can’t just wait one day, instead of running around in a forest where monsters-“

“No, I can’t,” Patrick crossed his arms.

“Fine,” Rainbow Dash shrugged.

Patrick glanced around the woods for the hundredth time, half expecting another manticore, or worse, to jump out and maul him any second. He didn’t want to admit it, but Dash was right. The less time he spent aimlessly riding around the Everfree forest, the better.

“Listen,” Patrick took a knee down to Rainbow Dash’s level. “It’s really important I find that clearing. If you could spot it from above and tell me where to go, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I guess,” Dash rose into the air a few feet. “Wait here, I’ll find it in ten seconds flat!”

With that, she took off into the sky, circling the seemingly endless Everfree Forest where she had originally found Patrick.

Patrick waited, his hand ready to draw his weapon at a moment’s notice. After what seemed like an eternity, Rainbow Dash returned, a panicked expression on her face.

“It’s gone!”

“What?” Patrick gasped. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean,” Rainbow Dash struggled for words. “I remember the part the of the woods it was in, so I searched there. But there’s no giant gaping hole, no dead manticore, no fallen trees, no burnt ground, nothing!”

Patrick put his hands on the back of his head, taking all this in. He paced back and forth, trying to think of something. It had only been a week. Nature could not correct a clearing burned by lightning that downed trees, splatters of blood and scorched earth, and body of a manticore in a week.

The Everfree Forest, he had learned, was one of the only places in Equestria that ran on its own. The weather, plants, and animals were not taken care of by ponies. Unless the decomposition rate in the forest was extremely fast, there was no way everything could have been reclaimed by nature on its own by now.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Rainbow Dash’s eyes lit up. “I bet Zecora would know how to find it!”

“Who?” Patrick asked.

“Follow me!” Dash ascended back into the air. She led Patrick to a small hut, carved into a gnarled, weeping willow. An assortment of tribal masks and exotic decorations hung from its branches.

Patrick parked his motorcycle as Rainbow Dash knocked on the door.

The door swung open, displaying a familiar animal to Patrick.

It was a blue-eyed zebra, her striped mane’s style reminding him of a punk-rocker’s Mohawk. A heavy, gold earring hung from each of her ears. Several gold bracelets were entwined around her neck and one of her legs.

“Rainbow Dash! What a pleasant surprise,” she spoke with a fitting African accent. “May I ask what you are doing here, before my eyes?”

“Uh, hey Zecora,” Rainbow Dash stuttered. “Well, I was wondering maybe if you’d be able to help out my friend, Patrick, here.”

Zecora’s attention shifted to Patrick, and her jaw dropped. “Sweet heavens above, how can this be?” she took a step back. “Is this a human being I see standing in front of me?”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “What?!”

“You know what I am?!” Patrick’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of its chest.

Zecora led them inside, sitting the Pegasus and the human down at a table where she opened an aged book, written in zebra language. It featured a rough sketch of human anatomy.

“There is a legend many a year old. But nowadays, it is so seldom told,” Zecora spoke in her rhyming dialect as she translated from the decrepit, yellowed pages.

Rainbow Dash looked from Zecora to Patrick as he listened intently.

“The human race was wise and strong. The son of man had tamed the world, before long.”

“Not a soul knows what brought man to his doom. Nor do I know why there is one in this very room.”

“No!” Patrick shouted frantically. “That can’t be it, is there anything more? You’ve got to know something!”

Zecora shook her head.

Patrick stood up from the table, his hands cradling the back of his head as he stared out a window into the forest.

“So,” Patrick spoke in a soft, panicked tone. “I’m…” He struggled not to go completely ballistic.

“I’m…in the future?”

“It would appear so, my human friend. Alas, I am sorry I cannot tell you what brought your people to its end.”

“No…” Patrick suddenly felt very, very alone. “Everyone I know… dead? How far in the future am I? How long ago did this happen? How… How did this happen? What part of the world am I in? What… I…. Where…How…?”

Patrick hyperventilated until he ran out of breath, and began to feel dizzy. It was all just too much. He fainted and fell flat on the floor.

“Wake up!” A cold liquid suddenly hit Patrick’s face.

Patrick coughed water out of his mouth and inhaled deeply.

“I believe that will do. The rest of that water, I must save for my brew,” Zecora took the bucket of water from Dash and hung it above her cast-iron stove.

Patrick sat up, his back against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Rainbow Dash helped pull him to his feet.

“I just need to be alone right now, Dash,” Patrick’s lip quivered.

He somberly stepped outside the zebra’s hut. Rainbow Dash tried to follow him, but a firm hoof restrained the Pegasus.

“Rainbow Dash, give him some time. He is now the only one of his kind.”

Patrick sat outside next to his motorcycle, curled up into a ball. It seemed like he had been out for some time, as the moon had replaced the sun since he’d passed out.

This wasn’t some other universe, this was Earth. For all he knew, where he’s standing could have been downtown Atlanta at some point in time. Patrick felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he bore this news.

Hours went by, and he simply sat there, looking straight ahead into the forest, dark thoughts creeping through his mind and taking over. He secretly hoped a manticore, or anything that could be a threat, would burst out of the woods and end his life.

He heard conversation in Zecora’s hut between Rainbow Dash and the wise zebra. Eventually it died down, although light continued to emit from the windows.

Reluctantly, Patrick stood up. He couldn’t sit there forever. The human brushed himself off and reentered the hut.

Rainbow Dash had fallen asleep on Zecora’s bed, her ear twitching every now and then. He took in the strange sight of an upside-down zebra, her head balanced on top of a bamboo pipe, lying in a deep, meditative trance.

Patrick took a step forward, trying not to disturb either of them.

“Human, if you are done moping over yourself,” The zebra started the first verse of her rhyme.

“Damn,” Patrick thought. “She must have good hearing.”

“I believe I may be able to help.“

“How?” Patrick asked, her eyes still closed.

She gracefully came off her post and led Patrick outside, quietly shutting the door so as not to wake the sleeping Pegasus. She led Patrick through the forest through the dead of night, seemingly unafraid of whatever monsters could be prowling around at this hour.

“The spirits want to aid you, in your quest,” Zecora said as they walked. “But up to you, young warrior, is the rest.”

“What makes you think I’m a warrior?” Patrick asked sarcastically.

“In the spirit world, your eyes glow in red bands,” Zecora explained. “This only happens to he with blood on his hands.”

Patrick kicked a rock on the path shyly.

“I was a soldier,” Patrick sighed. “I fought in a war, it ruined me. Yes, I have killed people. And they follow me everywhere.”

Zecora stopped dead in her tracks.

“Five friendly spirits, a message to you, they send. They wish only to support their closest friend.”

Patrick felt cold in his chest.

“Jo…Jose?” he frantically looked around, hoping to see something.

“Joe!” his tone became louder, and more confident.

“Spencer! Ryan! Louis!”

“Anybody!” Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs, echoing around the forest. But nothing happened.

“PLEASE!” Patrick dropped to his knees.

“I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS ALONE!”

Zecora watched Patrick’s outburst, and tapped him with a hoof. “Child, do not despair, for we are almost there.”

Patrick stood up, feeling his palms sweat. He didn’t know where the zebra was taking him, but obviously it was important.

At last, Zecora stopped just short of a clearing. But it looked… Familiar. The trees were all in the right place, the foliage, the dirt path, everything was correct. But it looked like nothing had even happened here.

“I can see it in your eyes, that this is a place you recognize.”

Patrick nodded, his eyes scanning every detail of the clearing. He remembered exactly where he lay bleeding, where he shot the manticore, and where his bike was laying. But it looked like it had been cleaned up, everything looked as if it were put back into place. It was no wonder Rainbow Dash couldn’t pick it out from the air.

Looking down onto the dirt path, Patrick could see several round imprints in the ground.

“Horseshoes?” Patrick thought. There was nothing else that they could be. Someone had cleaned up the mess the lightning had caused after it zapped him into Equestria. Someone was trying to cover it up.

“Why?” Patrick managed to choke out.

“This, I have no answer for. However, I wish to show you what may help you let go of everything that happened in your war.”

Zecora laid flat on her back, and then balanced herself on her head. She gestured that Patrick do it as well. After several failed attempts of standing on his head like Zecora, he threw his head back in frustration.

“This is stupid,” Patrick grumbled, getting ready to storm off.

“You may sit,” Zecora smiled. “Please, just don’t throw a fit.”

Patrick sat criss-cross on the ground and looked longingly towards Zecora, her eyes still closed.

“Meditation has been a remedy to cure broken hearts since ancient times. If done right, the results can be most prime.”

Patrick shifted uncomfortably in the dirt, looking straight ahead.

“Close your eyes, son of man. Empty your mind as quickly as you can.”

And Patrick did just that. It was difficult, but Patrick believed he had cleared his mind of all emotion and thought, at least for a moment.

It was actually a very peaceful feeling, the nothingness. With no constant negative influences on his mind, Patrick felt himself relax.

“Now, pay attention to me. Picture everything that has destroyed you, in your line of duty.”

A dark surge flowed through his mind. It was like someone had turned on a faucet and ice-cold water was filling the inside of his head. He willingly allowed all of his nightmares, his memories, getting shot, executing a man as he stared into his eyes, the screams of his friends as they burned to death, being humiliated yesterday, the end of the human race, to circulate in his thoughts.

“And now, human soldier, this is where you are on your own. You must now let everything go.”

Patrick wanted to stop, and tell her he wasn’t ready for this. But something, not exactly a voice, but a thought, told him he was. It was strange, because the thought was not his own.

“I will return when the dawn has broken, heed these words that I have spoken.”

Patrick could hear Zecora leave the clearing.

It took a very long time for him to process everything that his mind wanted to show him. It was definitely a few hours by the time Patrick exhaled loudly. Visions from combat, and strange voices echoed through his mind. Most of the voices were clearly products of his own imagination, but there was one that rang out above the rest. It was a thought, that was not his own.

The thought was in the form of a very familiar voice. After sitting in his mind, and staring directly at this thought for hours, he finally attempted to communicate with it.

“Hello?” Patrick seemingly asked himself, not really expecting a reply.

“Hey,” the voice nonchalantly responded. Patrick didn’t expect himself to be so calm when he was having a conversation with someone in his own head.

“How are you?” Patrick asked.

“I’m fine. All of us are fine,” the familiar voice spoke.

“I only wish I could have done something differently that day, in the valley,” Patrick trailed off.

“It wasn’t something that could have been prevented,” the voice said.

“Is it nice, where you are?” Patrick asked.

“It’s peaceful,” the familiar thought-voice spoke softly. “We all have to get off the train eventually, you know. End of the line, you get the idea.”

“Yeah,” Patrick answered. “I do. But, I’m the only one left now. I’m all alone.”

“No you’re not,” the voice said. “We’ve got your back, and we always will.”

Patrick and the thought took a moment of silence, allowing themselves to enjoy each other’s company.

“Listen,” The familiar voice finally voiced. “I have to go.”

“I understand,” Patrick responded. “But what am I doing here? Why is all this happening?”

“You’ll see, in time.”

“That’s not fair,” Patrick replied sarcastically.

“Don’t worry about it. Just promise me that no matter how bad things get, you won’t forget that we will always be brothers.”

“I promise.”

“One more thing,” the voice became very gentle, almost angelic.

“It’s gonna be a good day.”

Patrick’s eyes shot open, his lungs gasping for breath. His pupils dilated, and grew smaller to accept a higher amount of light. The sun had just risen, casting the shadows of the trees westward towards the horizon.

Rainbow Dash yawned, not used to being up this early. Zecora smiled, and sat down next to Patrick.

“We’ve been here for about fifteen minutes now,” Rainbow Dash said. “We didn’t want to disturb you.”

Patrick smiled at Rainbow Dash. Something felt very different inside of him. The usual occupancy of his dark thoughts about the ambush and his combat career in the back of his mind were no longer there. It was as if he had reached inside his mind, grabbed a leech sucking away his very sanity, and stomped it to death. For the first time since Patrick could remember, he felt…

Happy. Just… Happy.

“I assume, from your smirk,” Zecora noticed a grin across the human’s face. “That what I have taught you has worked.”

“Yeah,” Patrick gave a sigh of relief. “I had a very nice conversation with an old friend of mine.”

Patrick was about to retrieve a cigarette from his pack, but stopped short before he could reach fully into his pocket.

“You know,” Patrick thought to himself, smiling. “I don’t think I need one.” Patrick stood up, and faced Rainbow Dash.

“Listen, Dash,” Patrick made eye contact with her. “About yesterday at the library…”

“Zecora told me everything,” Rainbow Dash said. “Maybe even Twilight could learn something about friendship from you.”

“Twilight?” Patrick eyes windened. “Wait, we’re supposed to go see the Princesses today!”

“Oh, hay,” Rainbow Dash cursed. “You’re right! We’d better hurry if we want to make it to the chariot they’re going to send us in time!”

Zecora led Patrick and Rainbow Dash back to her hut, where Patrick slipped on all his gear and started up his bike.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms in midair.

“Just a sec!” Patrick called up to her, and turned to Zecora.

“Thank you,” he withdrew a purple, heart-shaped medal from his pocket, handing it to Zecora. “I won’t be needing this anymore.”

“I am glad you were able to chase your demons away,” Zecora smiled. “And I have a feeling that today- is going to be a very good day.”

Chapter 8

August 20, 2001
Garden Hills Elementary School
Atlanta, Georgia

Ms. Lightly’s classroom was a comparable to that of a chaotic frenzy. First graders tore through the generously decorated classroom, brightened by an entire wall of windows overlooking the playground.

The youngsters got their hands on anything that wasn’t nailed to the ground.

It was Ms. Lightly’s first year of teaching. At first, she was feeling confident with her ability to care for others’ children. But nothing she had learned in college prepared her for this. She clasped a hand over her head, watching as two of her students were fighting over a stuffed animal.

“I suppose I should probably do something about that,” she sighed. Suddenly, there was a figure standing in the doorway.

It was a Hispanic woman, a small child clinging to her leg.

“Ah,” Ms. Lightly welcomed them in. “Welcome, welcome! You must be Mrs. Reyes.”

“Yes, it’s good to finally meet you,” she spoke good English, but her Spanish accent was very noticeable. “I’m sorry he has to be tardy, but better late than never.”

“Mhmm,” Ms. Lightly replied.

“No, its mine!” A high pitched squeak interrupted them. “Miiiiiiiine!”

Two boys were trying to carjack another boy out of the only Playskool push-car the classroom had.

“Um, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment,” Ms. Lightly broke up the situation, putting all three in time out. The boys pouted in the corner as Ms. Reyes and her son waited patiently.

“Sorry about that,” Ms. Lightly chuckled apprehensively. “You must be Jose.” She reached out to the small child.

“Your mother has told me so much about you. I’m sure you’re going to love living in America!”

Jose continued to cling to his mother’s leg, shaking his head.

“No, mami, I don’t want to go!” Jose humored his situation, knowing it was not going change anything.

“Now, come on, Jose,” she tried her best to comfort the small child. “I know two boys who would love to play with you.”

“R-really?” Jose sniffled.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking Jose’s hand.

“I’ll pick you up later, Mijo,” Mrs. Reyes blew a kiss at him, and disappeared down the hallway. Jose’s heart felt a kick of despair knowing his mami was no longer there to protect him.

Two boys sat in a corner of the room, contently playing with blocks and Legos. Compared to the childish anarchy around them, they were calmly building something out of their materials.

“Patrick, Joseph,” Ms. Lightly let go of Jose’s hand. “This is Jose. He just moved here from Mexico. He needs some friends to play with.”

Jose looked at his shoes, too nervous to look up.

“Wow, you’re from Mexico? Cool!” Joseph exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Patrick fidgeted with a toy motorcycle in his hand. “Do you know Spanish?”

“Yes,” Jose smiled, gaining confidence.

“Hey, you wanna help us build a track for my motorcycle?” Patrick gestured to the lines of blocks, which was beginning to resemble a racetrack.

“Yeah, okay!” Jose beamed as Ms. Lightly, at peace with the situation, strolled cheerfully back over to her desk. Her good mood was quickly soiled after another conflict between other children.

“I-I like your motorcycle, Patrick” Jose managed to stutter, as he made a curve in the track. Patrick held out his toy motorcycle, a plastic red crotch rocket, for Jose to see.

“Yeah, when I get bigger, I’m gonna ride a motorcycle!” he beamed.

The boys spent the remainder of their playtime rolling Patrick’s toy motorcycle and hot wheels cars through the racetrack, until lunch and naptime took up the remainder of the school day.

While they waited for their parents to pick them up, the three boys found themselves playing with Patrick’s motorcycle again, giggling frequently as they repeatedly made it jump from table to table.

“Why can’t all kids be that well-behaved?” Ms. Lightly lamented.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a large man, his face unshaven, his greasy jumpsuit implying he was a mechanic of some sort, walked straight through the classroom and yanked Patrick by the arm.

“Have a… Good day… Mr. Wilcox.” The man totally brushed her off.

Soon enough, in a Ford pick-up truck, a certain young boy by the name of Patrick was getting a stern talking-to.

“I told you not to mix with them blacks,” Patrick’s father spoke in a raspy southern accent, ashing a cigarette out the window. Patrick hated the smell of cigarettes. He learned in school from Ms. Lightly that cigarettes are really bad for you. Patrick promised himself that he would never smoke, it was just so… So bad.

When he told his father he should quit smoking… Well, his behind was very sore after that.

“And I don’t want you hanging around that Mexican,” Mr. Wilcox muttered. “Or you’ll get a belt slapped on your ass so hard, you won’t be able to sit for weeks.”

“But they’re my friends, daddy…”

Patrick felt himself leaning violently to the left, barely catching himself as his rear tire threatened to slip out from under him.

“Okay, I really need to stop spacing out all the time,” Patrick thought.

The dirt roads had been hell to ride on, but it sure beat walking when he has stitches in his chest, he had nearly toppled over that time, though.

“Go faster!” Rainbow Dash called from above. “We’re gonna’ be late!”

“I’m trying not to kill myself, here!” Patrick’s speedometer only read 47 MPH, but with these unstable dirt roads, it felt like he was flying down a road made of grape jelly.

“Stupid six-hundred-dollar racing tires.”

Meanwhile, a royal chariot had was waiting just outside the library. Five ponies found themselves anxiously waiting.

“Any day now, Miss Sparkle,” one of the Pegasus Royal Guards tapped his hoof.

“They’ll be here soon, I’m sure,” Twilight hunkered down back in the chariot.

“Oh goodness, do you think something happened to them?” Fluttershy said.

“Ah sure hope not,” Applejack responded.

A low familiar hum, at first faint, was getting louder and louder.

Twilight gave a sigh of relief. “Just in time!”

Patrick skidded to a stop just in front of the royal chariot, Rainbow Dash landing next to him.

“Hey!” Patrick lifted up his visor, parking his bike. “Hope we haven’t held you up too long!”

“Oh, we were getting ever so worried!” Rarity grabbed Rainbow Dash in a friendly embrace.

“Where in Equestria did y’all run off ta’?” Applejack scolded.

“Now, Ah can’t lay a hoof on you,” Applejack gestured to Dash. “But you!”

She approached Patrick. “Where’d y’all run off ta’ that was so important, puttin’ Rainbow Dash in danger like that?”

“I went to Zecora’s,” Patrick smiled.

“What were you doing with Zecora?” Twilight asked.

“I had a lot on my mind, yesterday,” Patrick sighed. “She showed me some things, I think it really helped. I’m sorry I flipped out yesterday.”

“Y’all wouldn’t have spent the night in the woods if you would just stop keeping so many secrets from us!” Applejack grumbled.

“Oh,” Patrick crossed his arms. “Excuse me for getting beaten up in front of the entire town for protecting your apple stand, then!”

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie popped her head up between the arguing human and earthpony. Patrick nearly caught a mouthful of her cotton candy mane, she was so close.

“Friends shouldn’t be arguing like this! It’s not like anything bad happened, so just say you’re sorry and forget about it!”

“Where did you-“ Twilight facehoofed. “Never mind.”

“Alright,” Patrick sighed, just wanting to avoid as much conflict as possible.

“I’m sorry,” he stuck out his hand. Applejack hesitantly shook it, and then eased up on him. “Alright, Ah forgive ya,’ can’t really stay mad at anypony anyhow.”

Patrick allowed Rainbow Dash to enter first, and was about to climb into the chariot, but a purple hoof pushed him back down.

“What?” Patrick looked at Twilight.

She gestured to his waist. His Glock 23 was still resting comfortably inside his holster.

“Leave that thing inside, you don’t really go see the royalty while armed, here,” Twilight said.

“Oh, if only you knew,” Patrick thought, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll be quick,” he dashed back inside the library, undoing his belt and sliding the holster out of its grip.

Patrick removed his weapon from his holster, his other hand on an open drawer, ready to safely store the only known working firearm in the world. He held the handgun in a soft grasp, timidly entertaining the thought of not leaving it behind.

If someone hadn’t been trying to cover up the damage caused to the clearing from his arrival, maybe he wouldn’t have any reason to be paranoid. Patrick stuffed the muzzle of the weapon down into his waistband, and tightened his belt to keep it in place. After throwing his shirt over it, there was no way to tell he was packing. He wanted to bring his other magazine, but figured it would look too suspicious with his pocket bulging out so.

Thirteen bullets would have to protect him from whatever this crazy future could throw at him.

It never hurt to be prepared. In the Army, two cyanide pills were always within quick reach while out in the field, should he be captured by insurgents.

As much as Patrick didn’t want to admit it, a .40 caliber bullet was his cyanide pill.

The Canterlot Royal Guard buzzed to and fro amongst the magnificent cliff-side castle. Much to the armor-clad Pegasus and unicorn guards’ surprise, Princess Celestia had fully mobilized each able bodied guard, so that every square inch of the castle was under watch at any given time.

The only thing the Royal Guards knew was that the princesses had a royal audience planned with a very special VIP. They brushed it off as something diplomatic and did their job.

“Sister?” Celestia shook Luna awake. “Sister, it’s time. We need to get ready.”

“Mrmmm,” Luna groggily rose her head from her pillow.

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” Celestia waited by the door.

“I’m not even supposed to be up during the day,” Princess Luna groggily made her way to her vanity and shuffled through her wardrobe.

“I really wish you hadn’t have waited this long to tell me about the human, Tia,” Luna’s horn glowed, grabbing a hairbrush and brushing her bed head back into place.

“I’ve already said I was sorry, Luna,” Celestia sighed. “But remember what we discussed. Knowing him, I’m afraid of how he’d react if he found out what I’m responsible for. It is best if he doesn’t know.”

“You’ve never really been one for lying, Celestia,” Luna shrugged.

“I’m not really lying,” Celestia grimaced, knowing she would be. “I’m protecting him.”

“I’m still not completely following this plan,” Luna said. “But if it’s taken you since the day I was banished, until a week ago just to cast the spell, then you’ve obviously had time to put some thought into all this.”

“I have meditated thoroughly on this situation. This is for the best,” the white alicorn replied.

“Having the Royal Guard cast a repair spell on the damaged part of the Everfree Forest was a bit much, though.”

“The Nightmare is undoubtedly aware there is a human in Equestria by now,” Celestia shuddered. “I could not risk it having the opportunity to analyze the magic that still lingered there. If it were to detect my magic, it would surely know what my intentions are.”

“And be able to stop us.”

“Correct,” Celestia nodded. “Even with my magic, it was a very wearisome and meticulous spell to cast. There was no way of knowing where he’d end up, it just so happened to be the Everfree Forest.”

“What if anypony, or the human, returns there? Wouldn’t it be suspicious?”

“It’s a necessary risk. Though, my agents in Ponyville have been keeping a close eye on things,” Celestia replied. “I couldn’t afford for my student to discover the magic still lingering there, either. It would immediately point a hoof at me and put them in danger again. Besides, it’s been days, if they haven’t gone back, they’re unlikely to, by now.”

Celestia ruffled her mane in stress.

“It took a thousand years to be able to find this particular human, and manipulate each and every outcome ever so slightly, that it wouldn’t change history.”

“And prevent Equestria from being formed,” Luna added, joining Celestia’s side as they left Luna’s bedchambers.

“Exactly,” Princess Celestia nodded. “He and his friends won’t be able to use the Elements of Harmony unless he wants to help us, and for the right reasons.”

“It pains me to have done it this way, but if this is successful, both our world, and his, will be saved.”

“His?” Luna’s eyes widened, she suddenly found herself glaring at her sister yet again. “How can you save the past?”

“We’ll talk later, Luna. We’ve much to do.”

“But Tia! Why don’t you trust me enough to just tell me what’s going on?”

“I apologize, sister,” Princess Celestia replied. “But I can’t take any more risks at this point. I promise, I will fill you in completely after you raise the moon tonight.”

“Fine,” Luna pouted as they shuffled outside to meet their guests.

Patrick emerged from the library, catching the Pegasi Guards staring menacingly at him.

“What are you looking at?” Normally, he wouldn’t have smarted off, but all this staring was really getting to him.

“The freak standing on two legs,” one of them retorted.

“Yeah, fuck you, too, buddy,” Patrick wanted to say, but there were three things Patrick had learned in his life that taught him otherwise.

One: Don’t fuck with people who handle your food. Two: Don’t fuck with people that handle your food. Three: Don’t fuck with anyone that can allow you to plummet to your death at any given time.

It was a relatively short chariot ride, with a font row seat for the viewing of several pegasi’s flanks. Patrick heard the girls giggling to each other and pointing ahead of them, likely voting on which one they liked best.

“Wowie! Isn’t this great, we’re going to Canterlot!” Pinkie Pie bounced up and down next to Patrick. “Aren’t you happy Patrick? You’re finally going to get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Patrick stared off into space. “Hopefully; we’ll see.”

“Aw,” Pinkie Pie slunk down. “Well, maybe you should just be more positive! And the going-away party we’re going to have is going to be great!”

“Sounds good, I’m looking forward to it,” he smiled to amuse Pinkie Pie.

“So what did you and Zecora talk about last night?” Twilight asked.

“Well, we-“ Rainbow Dash was interrupted by a human elbow to her ribs.

“Ow, what gives?” she whispered.

“Until we figure out why the clearing’s fixed, I’m a little suspicious right now. Just keep everything to yourself until I figure it out.”

“Yeah, fine,” Rainbow Dash groaned. “I don’t like keeping secrets, though.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Rarity asked, all eyes on them now.

“Oh, nothing,” Patrick straightened up. “She, uh, taught me how to meditate. I think it really helped.”

“You know, Patrick is a lot like Zecora!” Pinkie Pie chattered. “At first we were all scared of him and didn’t know what he was, but then after he turned out to be nice, everypony loved him!”

“Hey, yeah,” Applejack stroked her chin. “Maybe that’s why y’all got along so well with Zecora. Maybe she’cud relate ta’ you er’ somethin’.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Patrick thought as they landed on a plaza just outside the throne room.

There they were, the sun princess and the moon princess. After a week of not knowing what the hell was going on, everything led up to this.

“Presenting!” A royal squire announced. “Her highnesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna!”

A flamboyant fanfare blew across the castle plaza as several squires raised their horns.

All the ponies around Patrick bowed. He took a knee as Celestia approached him.

“You are not one of my little ponies,” Celestia laughed. “Why are you bowing to me?”

“I do so only out of respect, Princess,” Patrick smiled confidently. Finally, something was actually going to happen. Finally, he was going to find a way back home.

“Please, rise.”

Patrick stood to his feet.

“I apologize it took so long to meet with you. We had certain business in Manehattan we had to attend to, but thankfully, we can now devote our full attention to you.”

“Thank you, I’m honored,” Patrick nodded.

“Celestia!” Twilight bolted to the princess’s side, sharing a quick embrace.

“My dearest student, Twilight Sparkle! It’s so good to see that you and your friends, as well as your new human friend, are all doing well.”

“Well, he’s doin’ better, anyhow,” Applejack took no effort to prevent herself from being informal. “You should have seen him when we found him in the Everfree forest. Hoo-wee, it was messy.”

As the Princess exchanged words with the six ponies, Patrick caught a certain blue alicorn staring at him. He smiled and gave a small wave. Luna blushed, and returned the wave with a small laugh.

“Please, you must be exhausted from this entire ordeal,” Celestia said to Patrick.

“Shall I show our guests to their chambers, princess?” A white butler pony, sporting a well groomed mustache asked.

“Yes, please,” Celestia answered. “After you are all settled in, please join us in the dining hall, we have prepared a feast for your arrival.”

“Um, yeah,” he nodded, confused. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“We’re spending the night?” Patrick whispered to Twilight as the Royal Guard escorted them to the guest living chambers.

“No one told you?” Twilight shook her head. “Well, you’ve got everything you need, right?”

Patrick thought he was only going to be there for the day. His most recently opened pack of cigarettes had only seven inside it, and he left the rest of his cancer sticks back in Ponyville.

“I guess. But a feast? I don’t think that’s really necessary. I just wanted to see if she can send me back or not.”

Though, since meditating last night, he hadn’t craved a cigarette all day. With the dark memories of combat safely in check, Patrick no longer had a mental dependency on nicotine. He would smoke one every now and then, just to prevent himself from falling into a cranky physical withdrawal, but so far, Patrick had liked not needing to stop what he’s doing and light one up.

“I might just have to quit, now,” Patrick laughed to himself. He was shown to his room, and he rejoined everyone in the dining hall. It was elegantly decorated with a massive chandelier, probably having over a thousand crystals dangling from its glass panes, which lit the entire room. Stained glass windows with paintings of two forms, one white and one dark, rotating around what appeared to be a planet.

Celestia, Luna, and the ponies he’d been living amongst in Ponyville all sat in a neat line on one side of the table, munching happily and enjoying their luncheon.

Truthfully, he was getting tired of every meal being so vegan. But he ate his carefully assembled plate of fruit, chopped and stacked to look like a pyramid. His salad had been arranged so that the leaves resembled rays of light, and the dressing provided a body that resembled the sun.

He hated to destroy this work of art, but after spending all night on a soul-searching journey in the woods talking to the dead, it was enough to work up his appetite. Just as he was about to take another bite, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Patrick!” Twilight whispered, glancing at Celestia. She seemed too preoccupied speaking to Fluttershy regarding Philomena to notice.

“You’re in the presence of royalty, sit up straight!”

“My bad,” Patrick straightened his back and scooted in his chair, lifting the fork full of salad back up to his mouth.

“And chew with your mouth closed, its bad table manners!” Patrick looked at her blankly, closing his mouth and continued chewing.

“And-“

“Twilight, I really don’t think the princess minds,” Rainbow Dash interrupted.

“Doesn’t mind about what?” Celestia asked dantily.

“Oh, uh nothing,” Rainbow Dash nervously laughed.

“So, Patrick,” Celestia’s gaze shifted towards his end of the table. It wasn’t a threatening gaze, only one of curiosity.

“You’ve barely said anything since you got here, is something wrong?”

“No,” Patrick replied. “I’ve just never really been around royalty or anything before, I don’t really know how to act.”

That wasn’t true, the Army had fully well-educated him on how to act around a superior officer, or the commander-in-chief.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Luna smiled at him. “Twilight Sparkle mentioned in her letter that you think you came to Equestria from another world in the lightning that struck the Everfree Forest not too long ago.”

“Yes, and I hope you are recovering well,” Celestia noticed a strip of thick bandaging protruding from his left sleeve.

The human noticed what she was staring at, and tucked it back into his shirt.

“It’s nothing, just a few burns and some stitches,” Patrick shrugged. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“It’s a miracle you even survived at all,” Luna seemed to glare at Celestia. Luna caught Patrick’s eyes locking with hers as she glared at her sister, and quickly slunk back down in her chair.

The handle of the crudely concealed handgun in Patrick’s waistband was painfully jabbing him in the thigh. He inconspicuously worked it into a more comfortable position while pretending to adjust his belt.

“Yes, well,” Celestia stood from her chair. “I believe I’ve had enough. If everyone is finished, why don’t we move this discussion to the throne room?”

The alicorns, ponies, and the lone human filed into the throne room. It was decorated similarly to the dining hall; marble floors, walls, and pillars. Stained glass windows depicting glorious images of the sun and moon cast colorful images across the room as the sun beamed through them. A Royal Unicorn Guard sat on each side of the throne as the royalty tended to their guests.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve had a lot of questions since you got here,” Celestia’s voice echoed around the large chamber. “And I’d like to address them.”

“Finally,” Patrick thought.

“Thank you,” Patrick said. “Do you know what’s going on, and why I’m here?”

Celestia and Luna looked confusingly at each other.

“Well,” Celestia sighed. “I am sorry, but I’m afraid we’ve been unable to figure out the source of the magic that brought you here.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he put his hands in his pockets somberly. “Is there any way to send me back to my world, then?”

“I don’t mean to disappoint you, Patrick, but…” Celestia sighed. “I don’t believe there is, as of yet.”

Patrick slunk down, breaking eye contact with everypony. It had confirmed his worst fear. Not only was he trapped here, the last human to ever live, but now he was being lied to.

“If a zebra in a hut knows what I am and where I came from,” Patrick thought. “The princesses that raise the sun and moon should know, too.” He could tell by Rainbow Dash’s expression that she was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Patrick,” Fluttershy put a hoof on his shoulder. “Are you sure there isn’t any other way?”

“However,” Celestia let the magic ripple through her glorious mane. “I can have the scholars comb through the Royal Archives, including even the most ancient of texts. Perhaps we may be able to find something on Patrick’s people and the magic that had brought him to Equestria by tomorrow morning. If not, than we shall continue to decipher the magic that brought you here.”

“See, Patrick?” Twilight clapped her hooves together. “Don’t give up yet, I told you the princesses would find a way.”

“If there’s a way, we’ll find it,” Celestia said. “We want to help you, Patrick. For now, why don’t you just enjoy what Canterlot has to offer as my esteemed guest?”

“Oooh! Really?” Pinkie Pie burst into a grin, bouncing in hyperactive spasms. “A night on the town in Canterlot! Oh this is going to be so fun!”

“My sister and I have some business we must attend to after she raises the moon shortly, I’m sorry we couldn’t help you, but I pledge you my full support as long as you are here. I will meet with you tomorrow on whatever my scholars find.”

“I appreciate the effort and your hospitality, princess,” Patrick bowed his head respectfully.

After the audience, Patrick found himself smoking a cigarette on a castle balcony, his first cigarette since the night before. He only smoked when he needed one now. And he really needed one. Now. It was all so confusing, why would they lie to him? Maybe they genuinely just didn’t know.

But Zecora did. She’s from a far off land, maybe her people had better knowledge of humans than even Equestria’s royalty.

Then again, maybe not.

“Patrick?” Rarity approached him. “I couldn’t help but notice how you and dear Rainbow Dash reacted to the Princess’s words.”

Patrick took another hit of his cigarette, breaking eye contact.

“What really happened at Zecora’s?”

Patrick took a deep breath. “Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly,” Rarity enthusiastically did a series of motions to complete the rhyme. “Stick a cupcake in my eye, darling.”

He told her everything. About how he was the last human in existence, how this was the future, and after Zecora helped him let go of what happened during his military service, how he had a conversation with a very familiar voice from the past.

“I’d be very suspicious, too, if I were you, but at least you finally got some closure.”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I think I did.”

“But why in Equestria would they not tell us the truth?“

“I don’t know,” Patrick sighed. “But I think I’m starting to figure something out.”

“Hey, Patrick!” Rainbow Dash zoomed through the marble-floored hallway, stopping in mid-air as she saw Rarity.

“Oh, hey Rarity,” Rainbow Dash floated up to Patrick’s eye level, whispering through clenched teeth. “Can I talk to you alone, now?”

“It’s okay, Dash,” Patrick tossed his cigarette off the balcony. “Rarity knows about what happened to me in the Army, and last night at Zecora’s, too. She was able to get me to crack the day after I woke up.”

“You whined at him, didn’t you?” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms, her wings keeping her aloft just above their heads.

“Works every time?” Rarity guiltily lowered her head.

“Well, what am I supposed to do now?” Patrick stared off into the sunset.

“I don’t know,” Rarity sighed. “There’s definitely something awfully fishy, going on.”

“They’re lying,” Rainbow Dash blurted out. As the Element of Loyalty, it was hard to admit the truth. But the royalty she bowed to had lied to her, it was undeniable.

“I just need to think about this,” Patrick started down the hall. “I’ll see you later.”

Patrick aimlessly wandered the castle halls, the guards eyeing him suspiciously. He rounded a corner, and bumped into large blue figure, knocking it to the ground.

Instantly, Patrick found himself surrounded by Royal Pegasi and unicorn guards. “Your highness, did this creature harm you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Luna smiled at Patrick. “It was just an accident, carry on.”

She dismissed the guards, who resumed their patrols.

“Sorry about that,” Luna said as Patrick helped her up.

“Nah, I should have been paying more attention,” Patrick shook his head apologetically.

“It’s quite alright. So, how are you finding Canterlot so far?”

“It’s nice,” Patrick replied. “I just wish I could figure out what’s going on, and what I’m doing here.”

Luna seemed uneasy after Patrick responded that way, and quickly shuffled down the hall.

“I’m sorry, but I really must be going. I have to raise the moon before Equestria starts wondering why the sun isn’t setting.”

“Alright then, see you,” Patrick turned around, feeling a bit brushed off, continuing down the hallway.

“And Patrick?”

“Yes?” he turned around.

“I think you may find answers to the questions you seek in the Royal Archives.”

Before Patrick could react, she took flight out of a nearby window.

“Did Luna really just…”

Quickly, he found his way to the Royal Library. In a cordoned off section, flanked by two Pegasi gaurds, was the Royal Archives.

The library was extremely vast. Shelves clustered with books, perfectly organized, sat upon every wall and in neat rows of towering bookshelves.

Patrick dropped his eyes to the floor, not really knowing where to look. Suddenly, he could see Twilight tugging several books around with her magic, heading straight into the Royal Archives and right past the guards.

He tried to follow her, but the armor-clad guards unfolded their wings and blocked his path.

“Halt!” one of them bellowed. “Only those approved by the princesses themselves may enter the archives!”

“My apologies,” Patrick took a step back and walked out of view, pretending to examine books along the wall. How was he supposed to get in there now?

Almost as quickly as he began perusing the shelves’ contents, a Royal Unicorn Guard came galloping into the library.

“I bring news from Princess Luna!” he panted. “All guards on patrol in the Royal library have been dismissed.”

The guards exchanged glances.

“Are you sure?”

“It was a direct order,” the unicorn said.

The three guards exited the library apathetically. Patrick shrugged it off and entered the Royal Archives.

It was a vast room, nearly half the size of the Royal Library itself. It featured windows that stretched all the way to its raised ceiling, and ceiling artwork that would put Leonardo da Vinci to shame.

“Patrick?” Twilight, surprised, looked up from a book. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Patrick stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Listen, I know you’re kind of down about what the princess said, so I’ve taken the liberty to go through the archives myself, in place of the scholars.”

Patrick wanted to tell her the truth, because he was honestly touched she’d spend the entire night going through ancient and sacred pony texts, just to help him, a stranger. But he couldn’t risk getting the word out that he knew more than the Princesses were telling him. What if they had something to do with this?

“Wow, they’d really let you do that?”

“Of course, who else would be better up to the task than Princess Celestia’s student?” Twilight’s eyes gleamed. “Since I moved to Ponyville, I’ve really missed this place, anyway. It’s really exciting to be able to read all these rare and unique books, some of them are even only single editions!”

“Maybe I can help,” Patrick looked around the room, trying to see what Luna meant by finding “the answers to the questions you seek.” If it was a book he was looking for, then it would take all night to find out what Luna meant. Unless, it wasn’t a book.

After spending an hour helping Twilight read through several reference guides, and starting on a book of ancient legendary creatures, Patrick was already feeling discouraged. But he refused to give up. He had only one very vague lead, but one way or another, he was going to find out the truth. Tonight.

“Huh,” Twilight froze in the process of removing a book from a wall shelf with her magic. “That’s odd.”

“What?” Patrick frantically stood up from a mountain of books. “What’s odd?”

“It feels like,” Twilight’s horn glowed, using her magic to feel the heavy wooden shelves of the bookshelf situated up against the wall. “That behind this bookshelf, it’s hollow. “

Curiously, Twilight Sparkle pushed the bookshelf ever so gently. It budged slightly, revealing a track with wheels attached to the bottom.

“Keep pushing it,” Patrick ordered, his eyes locked on the shelf.

Twilight’s horn glowed more brightly than Patrick had seen before, and with a strained grunt, she pushed the bookshelf aside like a sliding glass door.

Twilight panted in fatigue; using large amounts of magic was terribly exhausting for any unicorn.

“What is this?” Patrick’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t know,” Twilight approached the hole, large enough for a pony as tall as Celestia to walk through comfortably. It appeared to stretch back very far into the castle walls, gently sloping downwards.

“I don’t know where that leads, but I don’t think we should go down there.” Twilight’s horn glowed, ready to move the bookshelf back.

“Wait!” Patrick stopped her. “What if… uh, there’s something important down there?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if there’s some kind of forgotten room or something down there, filled with all kinds of ancient books? Wouldn’t you want to be credited for finding it?”

“I think maybe we should just tell the Princess about this,” Twilight shook her head, and her horn glowed once more.

Patrick stepped into the hole before she could slide the bookshelf back into place.

“Patrick, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Twilight asserted. “I don’t want you to end up in a dungeon for trespassing.”

“I don’t see a sign anywhere that says no trespassing,” Patrick stated as he felt his way down the long hallway. “Now come on, I need some light from that magical appendage of yours.”

Twilight apprehensively entered the hole in the wall, casting an illuminating spell and lighting up the ancient passageway.

It took nearly two minutes to fully traverse the tunnel. Even with Twilight’s horn lighting the way, the dim, windowless chamber they found themselves in was nearly twice the size of the entire Royal Library. It had the musty stink of age and decay.

Twilight spotted many unlit torches on the walls, and lit them all at once, her horn ceasing its glowing after the room was completely illuminated. More bookshelves sat against a wall, containing very ancient and poorly preserved books.

On a section of wall, many, many photographs, most of them faded, were framed with respective labels attached to their preservation frames.

Glass boxes, protecting better-preserved items from the elements, lined various tables, counters, and shelves.

There were vast assortments of items, some familiar to Patrick, and some not, but all were definitely human. Plastic bottles, CD-Roms, a computer monitor, random and particular items grouped together.

Patrick recognized a TV set, most of the wood framing rotted. It was definitely an older one, looking to be from the 1980s or so.

A very large preservation box held a rusty hunk of metal, which Patrick immediately recognized to be an engine of some kind. It was extremely large, towering more than 10 feet, and completely encased in glass. In large, barely legible lettering engraved into the side, it read “Boeing.”

“What is all this?” Twilight gazed around the room.

“It’s human technology,” Patrick gasped. “And I think your princess has been lying to us.”

“What?!” Twilight looked at Patrick with disgust. "That’s ridiculous! The princess would never lie about something like that!"

“Even Zecora, some shaman living in a hut, knew what I was! What more proof do you need, finding a room full of human artifacts under her castle?!” Patrick shouted.

“But you and Rainbow Dash never told me Zecora knew!” Twilight answered.

“Yeah, well,” Patrick balled his hands into fists. “We lied!”

He made his way around the room, catching a glimpse of a book that had obviously been carefully preserved and restored inside another preservation box.

“Holy Bible.”

Directly adjacent to the preserved Christian text, sat a laminated, yellowed clipping of parchment. Patrick immediately recognized it as a newspaper clipping.

New York Times
June 13, 2042

IRAN LAUNCHES NUKES, WASHINGTON ANNOUNCES APOCALYPTIC SCENARIO

“What’s that?” Twilight looked over Patrick’s shoulder as he read through the newspaper clipping. She was about to ask him to move over so she could read it, but stopped. His eyes were watering.

With a loud grunt in anger, he punched his fist into the Plexiglas container preserving the article, a loud thud resonating around the room.

“Patrick, why are you so upset?” Twilight tried to comfort the distressed human.

He stood aside. “Just read it.”

Her eyes moved back and forth until she finished the article, and then she lay silent.

“So, you’re not from another universe,” Twilight murmured. “You’re from the past.”

Patrick nodded, continuing to observe the chamber’s contents in a melancholy wonder.

What caught his eye next was an assortment of long, rusted metal objects. After getting closer to this section of the room, and it was unmistakable what they all were.

Human firearms, some Patrick had never even seen before, lay sorted in front of him. Russian Kalashnikov rifles, whatever wood stocks and grips they may have once had, were long decayed and deteriorated. More advanced looking rifles that looked to be designed much later than Patrick had even existed. Some of them lacked magazines, and in a separate section, rusted ammunition was on display, each artifact containing a note about the location and date of its discovery.

Hunting rifles, handguns, revolvers, even a mortar, and what appeared to be a hand-held grenade launcher. Those weapons with synthetic bodies and frames seemed to have held up better than those with wooden ones, albeit most were barely intact at all.

But there, at the very end of the line of weapons, lay a rifle Patrick had gotten very familiar with. Even though father time taken his toll, it was unmistakably an M4 Carbine.

“No way,” Patrick flipped open the preservation box containing the carbine in disbelief. It had telling signs of age and rust, but structurally, it seemed to have held up okay.

Patrick spent some time holding and gazing at this rifle. It was missing a magazine, and where an ACOG or reflex sight would have been mounted, the standard carry handle sight was installed. The synthetic, adjustable stock loosely clung to the butt of the rifle.

“Is that... another one of those guns?” Twilight questioned Patrick.

“Y-yeah,” Patrick choked, fighting to keep the memories he had let go of from taking over again. He could feel the stress, the regret, the mourning, and the guilt of ending human life, all bubble in the back of his skull again.

Everything Zecora had tried to teach Patrick about letting go of his past was screaming for him to get out of there, and put down the rifle. But his mind was telling him otherwise. He continued to scan the rifle for details, until he caught a familiar engraving, which featured an image of a mustang standing on its hind legs. As well as a serial number just above the mag release on the ancient rifle he held in his hands.

“PROPERTY
OF U.S. GOVT.
M4A1CARBINE
CAL.5.56 MM.
W391107”

Patrick shrank back in horror, reading the serial number again, and again, and again, pleading to his eyes that he was just hallucinating that number.

But he wasn’t. When Corporal Wilcox had been assigned a rifle in the military, it was his primary weapon, carried everywhere he went, until his honorable discharge after that fateful day. When you have nothing else to do but get the taste of sand out of your mouth for two years, you have time to memorize every detail and every serial number on your rifle.

And the rifle he held in his hands was the very same one he had used to kill two men. It was his rifle.

Twilight watched as the human froze, staring at the engraving on the rifle. It was the same stare he had on the balcony that night.

“Patrick, are you okay?” Twilight shook him out of his gaze.

“No,” Patrick, still holding the ancient M4 Carbine, headed towards the exit.

“Celestia has some fucking explaining to do,” he felt the bulge of his concealed weapon with each step he took.

“It’s gonna be a good day, Pat. I can feel it.”

Chapter 9

September 11, 2015
12:58 AM
Atlanta, Georgia

A clap of thunder and a thrash of lightning rolled across the night sky. Soon, sheets of rain began to drench a concrete jungle, making for a dangerous situation to any brave motorists attempting to traverse the city streets in this downpour.

Even though the city had shut down for this stormy evening, the Atlanta Police had their hands full. The street racers that had been plaguing the city of Atlanta; endangering the lives of motorists, illegally gambling fortunes, and costing thousands in labor to remove their burnout stains and tire tracks from public roads; were finally on the run.

True, the APD had more important things to worry about than a few idiots racing on public roads for cash. But when race crews began turning into organized crime, playing a part in drug trafficking and other atrocities, it became a priority to snuff them out.

So far, sixty-two arrests had been made since several popular racing spots were raided earlier in the night.

A police helicopter assisted with their efforts, reporting the positions of any suspicious motorcyclists or drivers with a blinding spotlight, while units on the ground maintained roadblocks and kept a lookout for more fleeing racers.

While the chaos erupted across the city, three motorcyclists tore away rapidly from the heart of Atlanta’s industrial district.

“Someone tipped off the cops about that spot!” Reese, a member of Dreads’s crew, grumbled through Patrick’s Bluetooth helmet. The rain splattered against his helmet, making it difficult to see ahead of him.

“Nobody told the cops, you squid,” Patrick lifted his visor, easing the condensation fogging up his line of sight. “We’ve been going to that spot for years, it was only a matter of time before they finally started cracking down.”

“Yeah, fo’real,” Dreads rasped, the sounds of his engine drifting from the background. “Pat, what’s the move? I’m on the other line with my crew, most everybody’s gotten busted now.”

Patrick, Reese, and Dreads rode in a staggered line, avoiding main streets and staying under overhead cover when available. It was incredibly disorienting riding in the rain, and the slippery roads only made it worse.

“Just got a text,” Dreads paused for a moment. Patrick assumed his phone must have been mounted to his handlebars.

“Yeah, they got a roadblock on Peachtree and Piedmont, they have lookouts on 75. I don’t know about Ponce, but I’m not chancin’ it.”

The police helicopter remained high in the sky, about a mile from their position. An overpass near a park up ahead would cover them from the chopper’s sweeping spotlight.

Patrick pulled over under the overpass, Reese and Dreads in suit. Soon after, the police chopper moved on, oblivious of the street racers hiding within its vicinity.

The racers killed their engines, but ready to move again at the first sign of approaching headlights. Patrick shuddered as cold water had seeped through all his gear, chilling his bare flesh.

“So, whats the move, army-boy?” asked Dreads.

Patrick dismounted his Honda CBR, and glanced at Reese’s bike, his lights still shining brightly.

Although DOT regulations required all motor vehicles to be equipped with running headlights and taillights, it wasn’t uncommon for racers to wire a switch that disabled them, making for an easy getaway at night.

However, Patrick was smart enough to already have this done, and would be practically invisible under the cover of night. Reese and Dreads still had their stock wiring, they’d stick out like a sore thumb. Riding with them would be as good as getting arrested.

Patrick spied a discarded piece of metal pipe amongst some other trash, and stood in front of the gleaming headlights of Reese’s Suzuki GSXR, handing it to dreads with his wet gloves.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the surrounding landscape. Dreads looked from the rusty pipe to his bike and nodded, understanding what Patrick implied.

Dreads raised the metal pipe and brought it down on each of his headlights, effectively shattering them both.

“Woah man, what are you doing?” Reese cried in surprise.

“If we got no lights,” Dreads busted out his taillight. “They can’t see us.”

Dreads handed the pipe to Reese.

“Go on.”

“No way man, I’m not doing that to my bike!” Reese frantically paced back and forth, until Patrick grabbed him by the collar, water dripping from their waterlogged gear.

“You either bust out your lights, or you’re on your own.”

Reese froze in fear, writhing in Patrick’s grip.

“A hundred bucks for new light bulbs and lenses is better than having your bike crushed and five years, isn’t it?”

“Can’t I just take the bulbs ou-“

“There’s no time, squid!” Dreads shouted angrily.

“Squid” was a term that bikers used to talk down newer bikers, or those that had no clue how to ride in an acceptable manner.

Dreads grabbed the metal rod and darkened Reese’s bike himself.

“Mhmm,” Dreads admired his work. “This’ll help. Just try not to crash.”

Patrick remounted his bike, spotting car headlights approaching. There was no way to tell if it was heat, but there was no reason to stick around, anyway. After pressing a crudely wired switch zip-tied to his handlebars, any source of light coming from the CBR between his legs was disabled. Patrick turned the ignition as he restarted the conference call between their Bluetooth helmets.

“We just gotta get out of the city,” Dreads complained. “But I ain’t going to jail tonight, or shot by the 5-0.”

“Dreads, they wouldn’t shoot us,” Patrick shrugged.

“Y’all are white, whatchu’ got to be scared of?”

“Yeah, good point.”

They agreed on a route. If they could get through the roadblock, they could take off from there, use the main highways, and vanish unopposed before the helicopter could follow them. After breaking the line of sight, simply changing directions would render frantic police radar chatter useless.

“And what do we do if we end up getting chased?” Reese asked unconfidently.

“Drop a gear, disappear,” Patrick flipped down his visor, following Reese as Dreads led them from their pit stop.

It was difficult, riding with no headlights in the pouring rain. Several times, Patrick almost rear ended Reese, or ended up off the road.

All they had to do was make it around Peachtree Street, using the back roads, and get past the roadblock. All major highways were under watch, but it was their only way of escape. And with wet pavement and a helicopter in the air, it only made things worse.

The chopper seemed to be preoccupied searching another area of the city. Patrick, Dreads, and Reese found themselves surrounded on all sides by towering skyscrapers, streetlights, and concrete in the heart of downtown Atlanta. Police could be anywhere, anticipating the racers’ every move.

They rode in a staggered formation, weaving between what little traffic remained at this hour, bolting through red lights, and being pelted by rain the entire way. Dreads tapped his helmet with his clutch hand, indicating that he had spotted a cop, and slowed his advance.

It was too late. A lone, undercover Ford Mustang roared to life, flashing blue lights and blaring a siren.

“Shit, y’all on your own, peace!” Dreads gunned the throttle, taking off down a side street. Reese had just barely made it past the squad car, and disappeared off into the distance. It left only Patrick, still barreling down the street and unable to swerve in time.

The officer driving the squad car lurched forward, threatening to send Patrick crashing into its side panel and flailing over the hood. The biker jammed his brakes, his tires squealing in agony as they hydroplaned across the wet asphalt. Using his hips to angle his bike, he slid to a stop mere inches from the hood of the police cruiser.

Before Patrick could make a break for it, the driver reached into the passenger seat, grabbing a long, black object, and threw open the door.

“Put your hands up!” the officer barked. “Don’t fucking move or I’ll put a bullet in you!”

This couldn’t be happening. His first night racing since he was arrested, and it ended just like before.

Patrick stared down the barrel of an AR-15 assault rifle, raindrops illuminated by the Mustang’s headlights dancing in mid air. It was unnerving to be on the wrong end of the civilian carbine he had become so familiar with.

The handgun on Patrick’s waist was clearly visible, and this officer was not playing any games tonight. Patrick hesitantly raised his hands, the bike beneath his legs still purring gently. He put the kickstand down and dismounted, easing himself away from muzzle of the rifle held only two feet from his face.

With that, the APD officer kicked him in the chest, throwing him to the ground in a greasy puddle. The officer yanked the helmet off of his head, getting a good look at the street racer. His gaze shifted towards Patrick’s waist.

“Packing heat, huh?” he snatched the Glock 23 out of Patrick’s holster, setting it on the hood of his car. The officer kept the barrel of the rifle pointing straight at Patrick’s head the entire ordeal.

“Identify yourself!” the officer demanded.

Patrick shook his head.

“I plead the fifth,” he sneered.

Patrick cringed as a steel-toed boot made contact with his chest again. The officer clasped a radio handset on his vest.

“Dispatch, I have one suspect on the corner of Peachtree and Luckie, over.”

Patrick sat on the ground, seething in anger and disbelief. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This smug piece of shit was bringing him in, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. His mind raced on what was going to happen.

He was a repeat offender now, being arrested twice for street racing would probably ensure he’d never get to hold a driver’s license again. Not only that, he was armed. Maybe they’d go easy on him since he’s a veteran, who knows? But jail time was definitely in his future.

Before the officer could receive a response from his radio, a bright red Yamaha R1 flew past them, the rider standing on its passenger pegs as he executed an impressive wheelie.

“Fuck the police!” Dreads let a hand off one of his handlebars, flipping off the cop, and smacked his front tire down, nearly slipping on the wet asphalt. He did a quick burnout, and took off as a trail of steam followed with the scent of burnt rubber.

“What the fu-“

Patrick didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward and grabbed the officer, fighting for the rifle in his tight grip.
Surprised by the sudden force against him, the officer attempted to heave the barrel in his face and blow his head off. Unfortunately for him, he was wearing a hefty, bulletproof vest, with assorted tools and weapons attached to his belt. It limited the officer’s mobility significantly.

And Patrick was not just some typical thug the officer was used to pushing around. While he wasn’t a Ranger, or part of some elite, special ops unit, United States Army infantrymen are thoroughly trained in military hand-to-hand combat. The combat exercises he practiced almost everyday consisted of this very same situation.

In one swift movement, Patrick plucked his hands down over the officer’s thumbs, a standard disarming procedure.

The thumbs are the human hands’ natural weak points, going for the space between the thumb and index finger is always a priority. Angling the muzzle away from them both, Patrick ripped the weapon from the officer’s grasp and flung it away from the struggle.

BOOM!

The officer pulled the trigger in a last-ditch effort to subdue the street racer as the rifle was removed from his grip. Patrick felt a rush of air as a bullet whizzed past his side, the gunfire crackling down the city streets and making his ears ring. Windows along a nearby apartment complex suddenly lit up, the people inside beginning to look on curiously.

Patrick tackled the disarmed officer to the ground. They rolled around in the grimy, wet pavement, throwing punches and slamming each other’s faces to the street.

With all his might, Patrick heaved himself on top of the officer, and let his fist collide with the police officer’s temple.

The officer’s foot shot forward, leaving a brown boot print on his face. Patrick flew backwards, but immediately jumped to his feet.

Before the officer could withdraw his sidearm, Patrick grabbed his helmet and rushed forward.

“Should have handcuffed me!” Patrick swung his helmet across the officer’s head, knocking him out cold.

He stood over the officer, breathing heavily as blood dripped from scrapes on his face. Patrick wiped a mixture of blood and grime from the officer’s boot onto his sleeve.

A red sportbike rolled back into view, coming to a stop just next to Patrick.

“I thought you said we were on our own?” Patrick gasped for breath.

“You are,” Dreads’s t-shirt absolutely drenched. “No need to thank me, just get fuck out of here!”

He revved his engine, screeching away from the scene.

Patrick marveled at the situation before him for a moment. A loaded AR-15 lay in the gutter, as a police Mustang, with its driver’s side door open and lights still flashing, lay next to an unconscious police officer. This was definitely his cue to leave.

The biker quickly strapped the helmet back to his head, grabbing his Glock 23 off the hood of the officer’s car. He mounted his bike and bolted from the scene, as approaching sirens increased in proximity.

Darkening his lights, he jumped onto the freeway, the Atlanta skyline in his mirrors getting farther and farther away as the rain flowed over his visor, making any source of light wavy and distorted.

“Okay,” Patrick thought as a streak of lightning lit up the sky. “Can’t go home, maybe I can just get a hotel somewhere for a few days.”

Laying low outside the city for a little while would be the smart thing to do. Getting a hotel room up north with his winnings was starting to sound attractive; in fact, it would even be like a mini-vacation. Right now, though, he just needed to get out of this storm before he hydroplaned to his death.

Before Patrick could find an exit on the desolate interstate, there was a distinct change in the atmosphere around him. The wind picked up, threatening to blow him into the median.

Lightning lit up the world in blinding, rapid bursts, white-hot thunderbolts piercing the sky unnaturally. Patrick could see a lightning bolt strike something only a quarter-mile away from him, and they seemed to be drawing closer. But the lightning that struck closest to him was different. While the ones off in the distance were white or yellow, the lightning that struck closest lit up the sky in bursts of colors, almost like tye-dye or rainbow streaks.

He battled with the wind, the unrelenting rain, the decreased traction, just trying to keep himself from crashing into the median. It was then that Patrick felt static electricity in his hair.

His eyes widened, suddenly feeling a tingling sensation come across his body. Patrick’s face went white as a sheet, knowing what was about to happen. He squeezed the grips of his handlebars tightly, uttering a single word.

“Shit.”

There was a flash, and a crack. It was incredibly bright.

But then, it got dark. Very dark.

And nothing happened.

That was all Patrick could remember before he was struck by lightning. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind now that Celestia was responsible for him being here. How was she supposed to deny it, when a rifle bearing his serial number is hidden away in a secret museum of human history?

The Royal Guard watched the human cautiously as he stormed the halls with a strange, rusty object in his hands. Even they knew something was up, but since he was the princess’s esteemed guest, they couldn’t bureaucratically touch him.

Maybe he would regret going about it this way later, but it’s not like they didn’t give him a choice. His days of running round Equestria, blissfully unaware of what the purpose of him even being here was, were about to come to an end.

As Patrick made his way there, the morning sun’s rays crept through the elegant stained glass windows of Canterlot Castle’s throne room. The two royal sisters waited patiently along with several of their guests.

“Maybe they overslept?” Luna shrugged.

“Naw,” Applejack shook her head. “We checked their rooms before we came down here. We thought they were already up an’ at em’.”

It made Celestia anxious. She was powerful, but not all-powerful. Anxiety and uncertainty were emotions she didn’t feel often, but when she did, they hit hard. She composed herself, staring towards the towering double doors of the throne room.

Suddenly, they burst open. A lone human marched forward, his hand behind his back.

“Hey, Patrick! Where were you and Twilight all night? You missed all the fun we had downtown!” Pinkie Pie skipped forward, but Patrick paid her no mind. He stopped just before anypony would be able to see what he held behind his back from their angle.

“Hello, Patrick,” Celestia examined the human’s disgruntled expression. “Where is Twilight Sparkle? Is something wrong?”

As if on cue, a purple unicorn came galloping into the throne room.

“Patrick, wait!” she cried. “Don’t do it, we can talk about this!”

“A-about what?” Rarity stammered, exchanging a worried glance with Rainbow Dash.

“About this!” Patrick removed his hand from behind his back, clutching an ancient firearm. He tossed it forward, clattering against the pristine, marble floor as it slid toward Celestia and Luna. Crusty specks of dirt and rust broke off upon impact, leaving a trail of small debris.

“Would you mind explaining to me what MY rifle is doing here?”

Celestia’s eyes widened, but Luna seemed to be calm about the situation. She collected herself, and cleared her throat.

“I see,” Celestia frowned. “You found the artifact room.”

“Artifact room?” Fluttershy whispered.

“Princess…” Twilight murmured. “You… You’ve been lying to us?”

Celestia hung her head, her student’s words felt like a knife to the heart.

“Yes.”

Fluttershy, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity gasped simultaneously.

Patrick still stood there, his eyes fixed on the white alicorn, his hands balling into tight fists.

“You need to tell me what’s going on,” Patrick took a step forward. “NOW!”

His voice boomed across the vast chamber. Everypony was silent for a moment.

Finally, Luna looked expectantly to Celestia and nodded.

In the back of Celestia’s mind, she suspected Luna may have something to do with this. She’d address that later, it was time for the truth to come out, and much sooner than she’d hoped for.

“Yes,” Celestia replied hesitantly. “I am responsible for bringing you to Equestria from the past.”

“Patrick’s from the past?” Applejack questioned, but her voice went ignored.

“I almost bled to death, I nearly got eaten alive, I’m practically crippled, I got my ass kicked, ” Patrick pulled up his shirt, revealing the stitches and bandages over his burnt arm. “Of all the ways to go about it, you struck me by some magical lightning? Look at this! This is your fault, I appreciate it!”

“Please,” Celestia cooed. “Just let me explai-“

“I will, and you better have a pretty good fucking explanation for all this!”

Twilight froze, her heart skipping a beat. Did Patrick really just talk to the princess like that? Why was Celestia not striking him down, or throwing him in a dungeon this very moment?

Celestia gazed into the human’s eyes, knowing how he was going to react.

“Patrick,” Celestia said. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of how the Elements of Harmony defeated Nightmare Moon not too long ago, correct?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well,” Celestia looked at her subjects, those who bore the Elements of Harmony themselves.

“They didn’t exactly do that permanently.”

“Uh, beg your pardon?” Applejack raised an eyebrow.

“Then whatever was the point of it all?” Rarity asked.

“I was hopeful that the Elements of Harmony, when used by you ponies who shared such a close bond of friendship, would be powerful enough to destroy the nightmare. But it wasn’t. Not even when I used them were they powerful enough.”

“Why me?” Patrick interrupted. “Why bring me here? What makes me so special?” he asked in a mocking tone.

“It took an entire millennium to thoroughly explore every possibility and every outcome involved with looking to the past for a solution. With the Nightmare banished to the moon, I had time to devote all my magic into making sure we would never have to face it again.” Celestia stood from her throne and stepped around the firearm desecrating her throne room’s floor.

“But there’s something…Different, about humans. Your people may be gone, but there is a bond you shared that is even greater, and even more powerful than those who used the Elements of Harmony last.” She gestured to the ponies surrounding Patrick.

“Why didn’t you just tell us from the start?” Patrick asked. “If you needed my help, you could have just asked, instead of zapping me with lightning and lying in my face!”

“It’s not that simple,” Celestia sighed. “The Nightmare is still out there, and I’m sure that by now, it knows you’re here, too. By pleading ignorance and destroying any trace of my magic that brought you here, it will not be able to determine if I am directly involved, and I’ve been able to keep you all out of immediate danger while it continues to remain dormant; for the time being.”

“I guess that would explain the clearing being fixed in the Everfree Forest,” Rainbow Dash interjected.

Celestia turned her head to Luna. Luna gave a sheepish smile, shrugging nervously. She didn’t even have to say it, but her expression clearly spoke “toldja’ so.”

“What does this have to do with me and my friends?” Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Equestria needed someone who understands the magic of friendship, more than anypony ever could. After observing human history, and searching for hundreds of years, I found you.”

“You didn’t impact history enough to where it would ultimately prevent Equestria from existing. But at the same time, you weren’t quite what was needed to use the Elements of Harmony to vanquish the Nightmare once and for all.”

“So…?” Patrick shrugged.

“So…” Celestia took a deep breath. “I made you what we needed. I manipulated the events in your life that would send you down the path I-Equestria-needed. Your father’s abuse, and institutionalizing your mother. The people you met, where you went to school. Your… Your military service.”

Patrick’s chest went stone cold, all the blood draining from his face.

“You… You didn’t…”

“I’m so sorry, Patrick,” Celestia spoke softly. “There was no other way.”

Patrick’s jaw dropped. His eyes tried to water, but nothing would come out. He tried believing there was some divine reason Celestia did this to him. Why she toyed with his life. Why she broke his family apart. Why she murdered his friends.

But he couldn’t.

Everypony watched as Patrick reacted to this news. Rainbow Dash and Rarity could understand what he felt, but there was no one else in the entire universe that could. He turned his back to Celestia, grabbing the back of his head in distress. He felt numb, like he wasn’t even alive anymore. His entire life… It was just a charade. Patrick Wilcox had officially lost all will to live.

“Patrick?” Rarity approached him, as everypony else remained at a respectful distance.

“Please,” Celestia gently uttered, approaching the distressed human. “This is why I hid everything from you. All of you. Because I knew how much it would hurt Patrick.”

Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie, her once curly mane deflated, looked on, maintaining an eerie silence none of them had ever felt before.

“You…” Patrick exhaled, bringing his hands down, reaching into his waistband.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Patrick spun around, feeling nothing but pure rage flare through his heart. The sun princess found herself staring down the barrel of a loaded Glock 23.

He pointed the weapon directly at her head, clicking off the safety.

“Sister!” Luna’s horn glowed as she rushed forward.

“Luna, don’t,” Celestia said calmly. “You don’t know how those weapons work. If he moves at all, it could cause him to pull the trigger.”

Reluctantly, Luna stood down, her horn ceasing its glowing.

“Patrick…” Celestia returned her attention to the gun-wielding human. “I know you’re very upset with me right now.”

Twilight gaped in horror, her mentor and Patrick having a standoff. She wanted to do something, anything, to protect her. But Twilight was so confused. Who was right, and who was wrong? From reading the engraving on Patrick’s Purple Heart, she knew he had some sort of military experience. But just what was the human military like? What could have caused him to pull a gun on the princess for affecting his military service?

“-But you just need stop and think about this for a moment. Just put the gun down. We can talk about this.”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU DID?” Patrick shouted. “I watched my best friends burn to death! You killed them! They had families, families I had to comfort at their funeral, after I come back from this pointless war with a bullet in my shoulder!”

Celestia looked into the human’s eyes, peering into the broken spirit she created. If anypony were able to see them from the spirit realm, they’d know they spoke only death and vengeance, glowing blood red. After all the effort she put into this; all the meditation, banishing her sister, lying to her most faithful subjects, and hiding the existence of humanity for as long as she could remember; the very situation she had been trying to prevent was beginning to unfold.

“And I’ve had to live with the fact I’m a murderer! I killed people with that rifle! Because of you!” he gestured to the carbine dejectedly laying on the floor.

“And to top it all off, my life has just been a game for some magical flying horse from the future!” he maintained his aim, the sights perfectly aligned on Princess Celestia’s forehead.

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t blow your brains out!” he tightened his grip on the receiver.

“Patrick, think about what you’re doing!” Twilight cried. “What do you think would happen to you if you assassinated the princess?!”

Patrick was quiet for a moment, toying with the thought of actually going through with this. He’d surely be executed or tortured, for that matter.

However, there was another way out…

“If I shoot her, I’m shooting myself.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rainbow Dash took a step back. She thought she knew Patrick better than anypony here, after they met with Zecora. But he had clearly lost his mind. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Celestia brought this upon herself.

Twilight wasn’t going to allow this to go on any longer. Her horn summoned a powerful ball of energy, ready to be thrown at Patrick and end his own life.

It cast a pale glow across the face of everyone present.

“Put it down, now!” Twilight demanded, willing to take a bullet for her princess, even after all she had done.

By now, the Royal Guard was aware of what was happening in the throne room, bursting through the doors and surrounding the human holding a weapon straight at their princess’s face.

“Patrick, please,” Celestia said in a dry tone. “Put the gun down. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can fix everything. You just have to trust me.”

Patrick studied the congregation around him. The guards glaring angrily at him, the ponies that had saved his life helplessly cowering in fear and shock, Twilight standing defensively, a ball of magic emanating from her horn as tears flowed from her eyes.

The entire ordeal, the fact that Patrick could end her life with a twitch of his finger didn’t seem to faze Celestia from his perspective. And that angered him.

But the screams he heard in his sleep every night; the screams of those that SHE murdered; would not let common sense ring loud enough for him to hear. After everything she did to him, they would just need to find themselves a new hero… And a new princess.

With the sights still aimed upon Celestia’s forehead, Patrick exhaled slowly…

And pulled the trigger.

BANG

Chapter 11

“Y’all must have lost yer’ marbles,” Applejack shook her head. “Ah really hope this ain’t the reason you called us all in here.”

Rainbow Dash brushed off Applejack’s typical stubbornness.

“No one’s going to help Patrick if we don’t. He’s just going to rot in a cell unless we break him out!”

“I don’t think what Celestia did was right, either, Rainbow,” Fluttershy dug her hoof at the floor. “I know he probably didn’t deserve any of that, but…”

“He tried ta’ kill the princess,” Applejack argued. “Not just hurt ‘er, or banish ‘er, but full-blown kill ‘er! We can’t go jailbreak somepony like that! Ah mean, you heard what he said when they were draggin’ his behind away.”

Pinkie Pie raised herself up on her hind legs, raising her hooves to resemble a monster.

“I’LL KILL YOU, YOU-you...” Pinkie Pie stopped.

“Grandma Pie taught me better than to use that kind of language,” the pink mare shrugged.

“I think if you knew more about what had been going on, you’d understand why Patrick did what he did,” Rarity said.

“You know, you and Rainbow Dash sure have spent a lot of time with Patrick,” Pinkie Pie chattered. “If you think what Patrick did was right, then why shouldn’t I listen to two of my best friends that want me to help my other friend, when my two other best friends don’t even want to help a friend?”

“Um, what?” Rainbow Dash tried to keep up with Pinkie’s quick ramblings.

“Ah think yer’ fergettin’ Twi’, Pinkie,” Applejack pointed towards the door. Across the hall, Twilight Sparkle had locked herself away, refusing to speak to anypony.

“How is she?” Fluttershy asked.

“A trainwreck,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Let her be,” Rarity said. “Our dear Twilight will be fine. Eventually. I’m sure. I hope.”

“Anyway,” Rainbow Dash drew an imaginary line on the floor with her hoof. “Anypony that’s in for helping Patrick, step forward!”

Rarity as was the first to cross the line.

“Let’s get Patrick out of that lying, murdering Celestia’s hooves!” the white unicorn grinned.

Pinkie Pie was next, bouncing happily over the line next to Rarity and Rainbow Dash.

“Pinkie,” Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You too?”

“Well, DUH!” Pinkie Pie giggled. “He needs our help. Besides, we still have to have his going away party! And how can we have a going away party if he’s not even there at the party, and stuck in some boring old dungeon instead? Tsk Tsk, Applejack, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Hesitantly, Fluttershy was the next to come forward, causing Applejack to let out another cry of frustration. The four mares looked expectantly towards the southern belle.

“Applejack!” Rainbow Dash cried. “Come on! He got his butt whooped because he tried to protect your apple stand while he was already hurt!”

“What about the Nightmare?” Applejack scowled. “And he tried’ ta’ murder Princess Celestia!” Applejack shouted. “What do y’all not understand about that? Ah cain’t go riskin’ mah’ hide, and mah’ friends’ hides to bust somepony like that outta jail!”

“He’s from the past!” Rainbow Dash rebutted. “He’s the only one of his kind here. The Princess killed his friends, destroyed his life, and made him fight in a war, where he killed other humans! He’s got nopony else in the world he can count on!”

“What Celestia did wasn’t right and you know it,” Rarity spoke up. “Aren’t you the element of honesty, Applejack?”

Applejack turned her back to everypony.

“Can you honestly say what Celestia did to him and his friends was right, even if it was to somehow save Equestria? Would you not be angry after that?”

“Well, Ah-“ Applejack sighed. “Ah reckon Ah would be the least bit mad.”

“So?” Rainbow Dash held her hoof forward. “Are you in?”

Applejack bit her lip, mulling over the thought of going against the princess and breaking an attempted murderer out of jail.

“What if we get caught? The Princess sure wouldn’t be very happy.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take!” Rainbow Dash held her head up high.

“As am I,” Rarity stepped next to Rainbow Dash, grinning triumphantly.

“Fine,” Applejack brought her hoof forward, giving Rainbow Dash a high-hoof.

“I’m in.”

The four mares smiled as the stubborn farm pony crossed the line.

“’Course, it sure would be easier if we had some magic on our side.”

The mares glanced towards the door. Twilight was definitely the last pony they’d want to ask for assistance at this point.

“We’re going to have to do this on our own,” Rainbow Dash said. “Rarity, do you think you could at least try to block a locater spell on Patrick once we get him out?”

“Difficult spells have never really been my specialty,” Rarity frowned. “I do suppose I can try, though.”

Rainbow Dash reached into a saddlebag on the floor and tossed a thick book towards Rarity with her mouth. Surprised, Rarity just barely caught it with her magic.

“I’ll need to read over this,” Rarity flipped through the pages until she found what spell she was looking for. “But it’s nothing I shouldn’t be able to accomplish. Leave it to me!”

“Alright, then!” Rainbow Dash turned to Applejack. “Let’s get to work.”

March 7th, 2012
3:00 PM
Piedmont Psychiatric Hospital
Atlanta, Georgia
Patrick Wilcox (Age 18)

Patrick let a small cloud of smoke exit his burning windpipe. He coughed violently, attracting the attention of other people in the designated smoking area just outside the psych ward.

The young man watched as the people around him talked on their cell phones, chatted to one another, paying him no mind. He wished he could be as blissfully unaware of his situation as they were.

But Patrick’s life was crumbling all around him. The only thing that could give him the least bit of comfort was the cigarette in his hand.

He was about to take another reluctant hit, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Five young men of his own age were stood behind him. Broken and humiliated, he couldn’t look any of them in the eye.

“Patrick?” Jose crossed his arms. “Since when do you smoke, man?”

Patrick said nothing, and turned away from Jose.

“We came down here as soon as we heard what happened,” Ryan glanced away. “I’m really sorry.”

Patrick shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t start smoking, it’s pointless,” Joe slapped Patrick’s lit cigarette out of his hand.

Patrick picked up the cigarette and attempted to inhale it again, but the burning in the back of his throat was too strong. His body was not used to smoking, or having nicotine in his bloodstream. It would take time before he could withstand the harmful smoke and tar in his system. He tossed it away in frustration.

“I lost my bike, my license, my parents, my home!” Patrick cried. “Everything!”

“How is she?” Jose interrupted.

Patrick paused, fighting tears that demanded to flow down his face.

“She wouldn’t even talk to me. I don’t blame her. I look too much like my dad, anyway.”

“Your mom’s just really hurt,” Ryan put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder.

“That shit went on for years,” he gestured to Patrick. “Before someone finally did something about it.”

“He just wouldn’t stop hitting her,” Patrick put his hands in his pockets. “I… I just had to do something this time.”

“…What did you do, man?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“I-I hit him in the head,” Patrick stammered. “With a baseball bat.”

“Holy shit,” Jose gasped. “Patrick, I knew you had a fucked-up home life, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Listen, I’d love to stand around and talk about all this, but I need to find a bridge to sleep under for tonight.”

“You don’t have any money?” Louis spoke up. “What about street racing? I thought you made mad cash doing that.”

Patrick shook his head. “My bike is now property of the state of Georgia.”

“Well,” Spencer scratched the back of his head. “Don’t you have anything saved up?”

“Bail,” Patrick answered. “Everything I had went towards that and my fines after I got arrested. And even after all that, I’m still on probation for a felony! Not even Mickey D’s will hire me, now!”

“What about school?” Joe asked. “We’ve only got a few more months.”

“Fuck it,” Patrick grumbled. “I’m homeless now, I’ve got bigger problems than getting a diploma. I’m dropping out.”

“What?!” Jose cried.

“Fuck that,” he put his arm around Patrick. “You’re staying with me, you’re gonna’ graduate, and you’re gonna’ get off probation. Then, you’re enlisting with us. That’s the plan.”

“The Army?” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Fuck that.”

“What else are you going to do, man?” Ryan persuaded. “Plus, you’ll be with us the entire way, we’re picking the same MOS.”

“And I bet the recruiter told you we’d be making five-K a month with a sweet dental plan, too, right?” Patrick replied sarcastically. “I’m not dying for this country.”

“You’ll come around,” Jose grabbed Patrick by the arm. “Now, let’s go get your stuff. I passed your house, it’s all out on the sidewalk.”

“It… It rained last night,” Patrick muttered. “Fucking pigs.”

“What?” Jose turned around.

“Nothing,” Patrick followed Jose to his car.

“It’s gonna’ be a good day, man,” Jose said optimistically as he unlocked the passenger door for Patrick.

“I can feel it.”

A rush of bone chilling night air brought Patrick back to reality. The only window in his cell was barred, and he did not have the luxury of glass panes, allowing cool air to circulate throughout his cell.

Patrick shivered, lying back on the stiff, wooden mattress. He studied the ceiling for hours, replaying everything that had happened again and again, his hands shaking in withdrawal.

“I really wish they hadn’t taken my cigarettes.”

There were no words to describe the feeling Patrick felt as he squeezed the trigger. It was the first time Patrick had wanted to kill someone. Even worse: Patrick could feel himself slipping into thoughts and feelings that were not his.

No, he was not a sociopath. He had compassion, love, and guilt for everything he did. But after learning his life had been decided by Celestia, and the murders of his only true friends, it was enough to make him lose his mind.

He still felt the desire for revenge, but it was unlikely he’d get another chance to try killing Celestia again. She was just too powerful, he was unarmed, and she had too many on her side. Which, of course, brought him back to the option of self-inflicted death.

“Every human being that ever existed is going to kick your ass when you get here.”

“UGH!” Patrick groaned audibly. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

It made Patrick’s head spin. What was he supposed to do? If he killed himself, he apparently faced an eternal ass-kicking. Save Equestria, and he’d lose all his pride and self-respect for helping the bitch that ruined his life and killed his friends.

Or, he could just kick back and watch Equestria get destroyed. Of course, for all he knew, everything about the Nightmare could be a lie. It wouldn’t be the first time the princess lied to him.

With all these hours in solitude, the only thing Patrick had to do, besides endure the unbearable nicotine withdrawal and wait for the escape attempt Rainbow Dash promised, was obsess over the conversation he just had with someone who died thousands of years ago. No one, not even that familiar voice, was going to tell him what he wanted to know.

The only ponies that had shown him kindness were probably not going to like the fact that that he tried to murder their deity. It was still peculiar in Patrick’s mind that a zebra living in a hut in the woods knew more about the human race than any other pony. For that matter, Zecora seemed to know a lot for a witch-doctor-hermit. If he was ever able to get out of here, that was the first place he’d go.

There were still so many questions left unanswered, so few reasons why he should do anything to help Celestia’s people, when she already refused to help his.

And, as much as Patrick hated to admit it, he really didn’t want to kill himself. It was different if he’d be able to just press a Glock against his temple and painlessly splatter his brains all over the wall, but other methods of suicide seemed rather…

Unpleasant. Not to mention painful.

There was still a way out of all this without committing suicide, there had to be. For every action, there is a reaction. Celestia had brought him here, there had to be a way to send him back to his own time… So that he could die in thirty years, anyway.

Patrick glanced up from his uncomfortable recline. There were still no guards in the dungeon. The sun had set, the only source of light being few dusty moonbeams shining through his barred window.

Patrick recoiled as a small pebble hit him in the face.

“What the-“ he sat up, staring at a pair of pink eyes through the bars.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash smirked. “Still given up on life?”

“You’ve gotta’ be kidding,” Patrick rubbed his eyes. “There’s no way you’re actually breaking me out.”

“You better believe I am! So, what did your friends say?” Rainbow Dash asked.

Patrick looked all around the cell, expecting Celestia or a guard to appear any moment. However, it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“It’s… Complicated...”

“Well, it kept you from killing yourself,” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “So, it must have been good. Now come on, we’re bustin’ you out!”

“We?” Patrick looked out the window. Fluttershy, clutching a rope, floated in closer so he could see her.

“Um… hi,” Fluttershy murmured.

Patrick took a moment to weigh his options. Was there really any benefit in staying here? The only thing keeping him was the possibility of putting a bullet in Celestia’s head, but they had confiscated his weapon.

It could be anywhere, and probably not worth roaming a heavily guarded fortress just to find a handgun with eight rounds in it, when she proved already she was more than capable of deflecting gunfire. It pained him to say it, but retrieving his handgun or capping Celestia was off the table. For now.

His best chance of going back to the past, or not living the rest of his life in a cell for all he knew, was to get out of here. After much thought, Patrick made his decision.

“Ah, fuck it!” Patrick stood up. “Get me out of here!”

“I thought you’d come around,” Rainbow Dash replied. Fluttershy handed Rainbow Dash the rope, sliding it between the bars.

“Uh,” Rainbow Dash raised her hooves, showing the lack of fingers. “You mind?”

“Sure,” Patrick began to tie a knot around the bars.

“By the way,” he said quietly.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, I’d never leave any of my friends hanging.”

Patrick smiled, continuing to secure the rope to the bars.

“Okay, it’s on there tight,” he finished tying the knot. “But I really don’t see how this is going to-“

Rainbow Dash bit down hard on the rope, taking off with break-neck speed. The slack in the rope became shorter, and shorter, until finally…

CLANG

The entire metal framing of the barred window was yanked out of the wall, along with a few bricks, leaving a gaping hole into nothing but the night sky.

“Shit,” Patrick uttered. Soon after, Rainbow Dash returned.

“Okay, come on!” Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy flew just outside the hole in the wall. “The Pegasi Guard shift change is going on right now. We don’t have much time!”

Carefully, Patrick inched towards the edge, and looked down.

The mere sight of the ground made his stomach churn. It was at least a thirty-story drop straight down.

“Uh,” Patrick put his hands in his pockets. “Did I ever mention I’m afraid of heights?”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Rainbow Dash brushed off his protests. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to stay here and explain to them how you made a hole in the wall.”

Patrick crawled forward through the hole as the two Pegasi wrapped their arms around him.

“Just try not to look down,” Fluttershy cooed. “You’ll be fine.”

“Alright, alright,” Patrick averted his eyes upward.

They slowly eased him off the makeshift balcony they had created, and lowered him towards the ground.

“Ugh,” Rainbow Dash grunted. “You’re a big boy. Could you be any heavier?”

It was unnerving that the only thing keeping Patrick aloft was two delicate sets of feathery wings. His stomach lurched up and down as his feet adjusted to not having the familiar feeling of solid ground underneath them.

Patrick kept his eyes closed, and focused on his breathing. Controlled breathing was one method the Army had trained him to handle stress in combat. It never worked, but it was something to keep his mind off of plummeting to his death.

With no Pegasi Guards and the cover of darkness, the three swiftly descended undiscovered. Every second feels like an eternity when you could die at any moment.

Finally, Patrick felt his feet touch the ground. He opened his eyes and fell flat on his stomach, gasping for breath.

“Heh,” Rainbow Dash snickered. “Don’t really like flying, huh?”

“Not like that,” Patrick shakily rose to his feet.

“I thought you were about to pee your pants!” Rainbow Dash laughed. “You should have seen your face, it was something like this!”

Rainbow Dash made an overdramatic, fearful expression, while Fluttershy let out a small laugh.

“Well, I thought that was very brave of you, Patrick,” Fluttershy smiled.

“Whatever,” Patrick rolled his eyes.

Undercover of darkness, the three made their way through the vast maze of castle courtyards. Working as a team, they avoided patrols and passed through undetected. Finally, they made it to a gate, flanked by two unicorn guards.

This was the only way out of the castle, and flying Patrick around it would risk detection, as Pegasi Guards had finished their shift change and began to streak across the sky in predictable search patterns.

“So, what now?” Patrick whispered as they hid behind a hedge.

“Fluttershy, give them the signal,” Rainbow Dash nudged her.

Fluttershy nodded, and cleared her throat.

She sounded one of her bird calls, that of an owl. The guards glared in their direction, but remained at their post.

“What was that?” one of the guards looked to the other.

“It’s just an owl,” the guard told his partner. “Princess Luna loves those night-birds, the gardens are chock-full of ‘em, rookie. Don’t get too worked up about it.”

A few moments later, Applejack and Rarity emerged from another set of hedges.

“Halt!” the guards cried. “What business do you have here in the royal gardens?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” Rarity blushed. “We were just taking a lovely nighttime stroll, is all.”

The guards exchanged uncertain glances.

“I say,” she stepped closer to one of the guards.

“That helmet sure does make you look handsome,” Rarity winked. She nudged Applejack. Begrudgingly, Applejack followed her lead.

“Uh, yeah,” Applejack attempted to flirt. “That sure is a mighty fine, uh, armor, y’all got on.”

The two guards nodded to each other.

“See, rookie?” the guard whispered. “I told you this job had perks.”

“We’yell, we should be goin’, not ta’ get you big, strong boys in any trouble.”

“Have a beautiful evening, darling,” Rarity purposely let the tip of her tail rub up against the guard’s leg as she walked away.”

“Wait!” the guard cried.

“Hm?” Rarity and Applejack turned around expectantly.

“Perhaps we should join you, to… Uh… Protect you ladies from anything that could be prowling around in the dark.”

“Oh, you big, strong stallions simply must join us for a stroll!” Rarity blushed.

“Look at AJ,” Rainbow Dash nudged Patrick, snickering.

Applejack had the most unpleasant, disgusted expression on her face. Clearly, she didn’t enjoy flirting as much as Rarity did.

Rarity and Applejack led the guards away, leaving the gate unattended and unguarded. Quickly, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash hoisted Patrick over the gates, dropping him back to the ground on the other side.

Patrick turned around and looked through the bars. He could see the lights from the towers of Canterlot Castle off in the distance, including the tower he had been locked up in.

Where he was now seemed to be the public area of Canterlot. It was late, a series of lamps illuminated the streets, but there was not a sign of life at this hour.

“We’re not there yet, come on, keep up!” Rainbow called to him from midair, taking off as Fluttershy and Patrick struggled to keep pace.

An unwelcoming feeling began to pool in the back of Patrick’s mind. He could feel sweat running down his back, and a constant state of paranoia setting in.

Patrick’s vision flickered before his very eyes. A hot sun beat down on the cracked, dry earth. Simple concrete homes and huts lined a dusty street, as several troops marched ahead of him.

“Come on, Patrick!” one of them barked. “You’re falling behind!”

Suddenly, it felt like someone was shaking him. Patrick blinked, no longer surrounded by a sandy Afghan village.

“Patrick!” Rainbow Dash shook him. “Hello?”

“What?” Patrick looked around in confusion.

“I said, you’re falling behind. Come on!”

He sighed, shaking the dark thoughts out of his head.

Patrick dashed from alleyway to alleyway, the concrete and cobblestone ground doing nothing to muffle his echoing footsteps. There could still be guards anywhere, and a single one sounding the alarm was all it would take before he’d end up back in a cell. He was not going to let Celestia win.

Finally Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy stopped above a stable situated next to what appeared to be a market place.

Rainbow Dash knocked at the door three times, looking over her shoulder in paranoia.

A pair of eyes appeared as a block of wood in the center of the door slid aside.

“What’s the password?” Pinkie Pie raised her eyebrows suspiciously.

“Um, Cupcakes,” Rainbow Dash whispered.

“Okay, but how do I know you’re reeeeeally Rainbow Dash?”

“Pinkie! Just let us in!”

“Tell me something only the real Rainbow Dash would know!”

“Ugh! Fine,” Rainbow Dash groaned. “Every time mister and misses Cake go out of town, you lock up Sugar Cube corner, we always go looking for their secret stash of rare Japonyse chocolate, which doesn’t exist, might I add, and we never find it.”

The sounds of a wooden deadbolt being removed from up against the door were heard, and it swung open.

“Sorry, you just can’t be too careful when everyone’s out to get you!” Pinkie winked.

“Pinkie Pie, you are so random,” Rainbow Dash shook her head as Patrick and Fluttershy followed them inside. Pinkie quickly shut the door and locked it behind them. In the center of the stable was a large, red stallion.

Big Macintosh yawned, not exactly used to being up at this hour. He was hitched to an applecart loaded with apples respectively.

“Um, hey,” Patrick asked Big Mac. “What’s this?”

“It’s your way out of Canterlot, silly!” Pinkie Pie bounced over to the applecart.

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh responded.

Soon, more knocking was heard at the door. Pinkie greeted them in the same manner as with Rainbow Dash.

“But how do I know you’re reeeeeeeally Rarity and Applejack?”
“Oh, for Equestria’s sake, Pinkie. Let us in!”

Pinkie let the two in and quickly dead bolted the door again.

“Phew!” Applejack wiped a bead of sweat off her head. “Thought we’d never lose them two romantics.”

“Right, then. You two would do best to get going,” Rarity addressed Patrick and Big Mac.

“Going?” Patrick tilted his head in confusion. “Where?”

“Well,” Applejack said. “Stayin’ here in Canterlot probably ain’t the best thing to do when you’re an escapee.”

“Yeah,” Patrick mopped his brow. “If I can get back to the library and get my bike, I’ve still got enough gas to get me pretty far away.”

“Think ya’ can handle that, big brother?” Applejack remarked.

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh responded predictably.

“Good,” Applejack nodded.

“But after that… Where am I supposed to go?”

“You’ll find some place to go, I’m sure,” Fluttershy smiled.

Patrick was quiet for a few moments, his mind racing. Where was he even supposed to go? Even if he was able to get away from Celestia and her guards, what if the Nightmare was real and DID end up doing something? What if he would regret leaving, and then it would be too late? What if he should help Celestia?

Which reminded him of Celestia’s actions in the first place, dissolving any guilt about escape within him.

“Listen, before I go,” Patrick said. “I don’t even understand why you’ve all risked everything to help me, even after I tried to kill Princess Celestia. Just… Why?”

“Because,” Rarity looked up at Patrick. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if I’d lost all my friends, just like you lost yours.”

“You said it,” Rainbow Dash nodded.

“Y’all were there for me,” Applejack shrugged. “Ah’m just returnin’ the favor.”

“Thank you. All of you,” Patrick averted his eyes, not even feeling like he deserved their help.

“Whatever happens, just know that I can’t thank you enough.”

“Hey, we couldn’t just let you get locked away in a dungeon after what Celestia did to you,” Rainbow Dash said. “Now hurry up, before they realize you’re gone.”

Patrick hopped into the back of the cart, Big Mac proceeding to cover him in apples.

“Y’all weren’t really just some mechanic, were ya’?” Big Macintosh asked.

“Nuh-uh,” Patrick replied.

It was going to be a long night.

The Everfree forest lay quiet and still as ever. There was a certain aura in the air, which the wildlife and monsters that dwelled there instinctively avoided. Underneath the ground, a dark being with anything but benevolent purposes was hard at work, mending forgotten weaponry left behind by an extinct race.

This technology, this structure, belonged to a very rich and powerful country. What was still intact in its cache of leftover weaponry was still active, although, the Nightmare still found the need to fix what father time had ruined.

The Nightmare itself was intrigued by these humans’ designs. They had discovered the secrets of nuclear energy, something ponykind, at its current rate, wouldn’t advance to for thousands of years, even with magic. That is, if Celestia allowed them.

The Nightmare remembered Celestia. She valued the safety of her subjects over the secrets of the universe. She did not want what happened to the human race to happen to hers, so she sheltered her kingdom from the technological advances and discoveries of the human race. She wanted her kingdom to be dumb and happy, rather than bold, intelligent, questioning, and defiant. It was unsurprising that very few scientific and technological advances had been made since the Nightmare’s banishment. Equestria was the same as when the Nightmare left it.

As the Nightmare used its dark magic to drive the age out of these time-abused tin cans, it began to understand them. Their destructive power resulted from splitting the nucleus of an atom. There was a large stockpile of this manner of weaponry, and not all of it functioned in the same way. Some acted on the raw power of nuclear fission, some, nuclear fusion. The Nightmare could see that the radioactive compounds were synthetic, expertly engineered by human hands.

And the humans were brilliant, without a doubt. She began to understand their thought process as they designed these weapons, as well. But there was one thing picking at the Nightmare’s mind.

How did they discover all of this without magic? How were they able to accomplish so much more than Ponykind when they had abandoned their own magic for so long?

Maybe that was just it: Magic. Magic held them back from discovery, and true consciousness.

Perhaps that’s what it was this entire time. Magic is what banished the Nightmare to the moon for a thousand years, what humiliated it, what condemned it.

The Nightmare stopped its work and looked at these gigantic bombs, these ministers of death.

Maybe someday they would even thank it for this. The Nightmare called upon its magic, and focused on the weaponry again, changing their purpose to its liking. It could still get its revenge, and create the world it always wanted.

A world without magic.

Chapter 12

July 9th, 2012
0527 Hours
Fort Benning, Georgia
US Army Private E-1 Patrick Wilcox
2nd Platoon

A welcoming comfort of silence relaxed Private Wilcox’s aching muscles. Fresh out of high school, it was difficult to get used to the physical torture he and his friends went through everyday since arriving at the Fort Benning Army Infantry School for their Basic Combat Training.

Private Wilcox drifted in and out of what he thought was sleep. Most nights, he lay in his bunk with his eyes closed for the few hours 2nd Platoon’s Drill Sergeant would allow him.

His aching feet, tendered by miles of pointless marching and running, pounded with each steady heartbeat. Patrick was an extremely light sleeper, and for once, the barracks were free of other recruits’ snoring, coughs, and irritating sounds of activity.

It was odd, that it was so quiet. But that didn’t matter, he was going to enjoy every second of this silence and actually get some sleep. That’s when it hit him: it was quiet. It was never supposed to be quiet.

Patrick immediately shot up out of bed, his eyes frantically scanning the barracks. It was too quiet for a reason: He was the only one in bed.

His eyes darted to the source of almost all his insomnia: The ticking wall clock at the other side of the room.

“FUCK!” Patrick jumped out of his bunk with the speed of an Olympic athlete. He had only three minutes to join the morning company formation.

“Why didn’t the intercom wake me up?” Patrick’s mind raced.

“Why did no one wake me up?” He hastily tucked his bed sheets into the neatest fashion he could manage. It would likely fail inspection, but there would be time to fix it later.

His next move was to throw his fatigues on. Quickly, he tied his boots. With the time he used barreling out the door, his shirt was even more hastily buttoned and zipped than his bed was made.

Patrick burst through the doors, ignoring the stares from other platoons and officers. He jumped into line with his platoon just before the first PT call sounded across the intercom.

The recruit couldn’t help but feel like he was forgetting something, but there was no time to worry about that. He had to make it to roll call in time, or else he would kiss his pride and self-esteem goodbye at the hands of his senior drill instructor.

A few familiar faces, hands over their snickering mouths, gave Patrick an angry scowl.

“Why the fuck didn’t you guys wake me up?” Patrick said through gritted teeth, staring straight ahead. The recruit made every attempt not to give the drill instructor something to call him out on.

“You looked comfy,” Private Armistead jeered.

“Yeah,” Private Campbell retorted. “Didn’t want to piss you off or anything.”

Patrick was about to reply when the drill sergeant began his routine morning defamation of their character, followed by their training schedules for that day.

Eventually, it was time for the morning two-mile jog. With every step, Private Wilcox’s uniform felt awkwardly sluggish. Patrick looked down, and his eyes went wide in horror.

He was forgetting something: His belt. With every movement of his arm, he tried to pull his pants back up as inconspicuously as he could.

“What’s the matter, man?” Private Reyes laughed.

“Fuck you,” Patrick huffed, watching as the drill sergeant chewed another recruit out at the front of the line.

“Wilcox!” Staff Sergeant Bentley barked. “The next time I see you grab your pants, I’ll shove my foot up your skinny white ass! Keep moving!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Patrick called back.

Patrick was never on board with joining the Army in the first place. His worst fears about military service were confirmed when he met Staff Sergeant Bentley.

His meager attempts to hold his pants up without a belt were merely delaying the inevitable. After a few more strides, Patrick’s pants fell from his waist and wrapped around his ankles, tripping him in the process. His entire platoon, still jogging around his pants-less form, erupted into a collective roar of laughter. Quickly, he pulled his pants back up and jumped back into running formation.

“Squad, hold the fuck up!” Staff Sergeant Bentley ordered. Obediently, the entire platoon slowed to a halt. Patrick’s chest went cold as his drill sergeant approached him.

“Wilcox!” Staff Sergeant Bentley grabbed him by the collar, screaming right in his face. “Would you mind explaining to me why you aren’t even capable of maintaining your pants at waist level?”

“Sir,” Patrick gulped. “I-“

He froze up in fear, until Staff Sergeant Bentley shook him.

“Private Wilcox, are you so fucking retarded that you’ve forgotten the basic operation of forming words with your mouth? Answer me!”

“Sir!” Patrick responded. “Sir, the recruit forgot to put his belt on, sir!”

Staff Sergeant Bentley let Patrick out of his grip and crossed his arms.

“You forgot to put your belt on,” Staff Sergeant Bentley repeated.

“I’d forget to put my belt on too, if I slept in everyday and showed up to First Call later than your sister’s un-aborted fetus!”

Patrick bowed his head in shame, listening to the suppressed laughter of his platoon, and even more humiliating, his best friends’.

“None of these other young men seem to have trouble keeping their pants on,” Staff Sergeant Bentley paced back and forth. “But for some reason, you can’t even perform as simple a fucking task as dressing yourself!”

Patrick remained silent as the staff sergeant continued to verbally abuse him.

“If United States Army Issue lower fatigues are proving too complicated for you to operate, Private Wilcox, I hearby revoke your privilege to use them!”

“S…Sir?” Patrick whimpered.

“Since operating a pair of pants and belt seems to be too much of a challenge for that down-syndrome, autistic-ass piece of shit in your head you call a brain, take them off!”

Patrick looked down at his pants, barely clinging to his waist and ready to fall down again. Jose held a hand over his mouth, and the rest of his friends, along with the platoon, looked as though they were going to burst with laughter at any second.

It was then that Private Wilcox decided joining the military was, in fact, a terrible fucking idea. Even the idea of being homeless on the streets of Atlanta was sounding attractive now compared to this.

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER, PRIVATE?” The Staff Sergeant bellowed. “REMOVE YOUR LOWER FATIGUES AND RUN!”

Hesitantly, Patrick slid his pant legs over his boots and tied them around his neck. The exposure he felt was humiliating, the red, laughter-stricken faces of his comrades were even more so.

For the next sixty minutes, Patrick’s underwear and pale white legs drew the attention of every other running platoon whose paths they crossed that morning. Finally, it was time for breakfast. Patrick never saw the logic in making sleep-deprived men run several miles before even eating, but it definitely broke the spirit into a submissive zombie ready to take any order given to it.

Patrick stood outside the mess hall, untying his pants form around his neck and getting ready to slip them back on. Suddenly, a tight grip ripped the garment from his hands and walked away.

“You can have these back after breakfast, soldier,” Staff Sergeant Bentley nonchalantly twirled the pants in the air as he walked away from a bewildered, half-naked recruit.

Patrick grimaced as his platoon entered the mess hall.

“Cheer up, Patrick,” Private Reyes tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be a good-“

“Shut the fuck up, Jose.”

The entire mess hall exploded into a storm of laughter. The commanding officers and drill sergeants were quick to maintain order, though. Anyone who couldn’t hold their laughter was forced to do push-ups until breakfast was over.

“Nice ass,” a recruit from another platoon remarked as he passed by Patrick.

Patrick stepped forward, but felt Jose pull him back.

“Trust me, bro,” Jose whispered. “Definitely not worth going to the stockades.”

“The shit you guys get me into,” Patrick grumbled.

A bump in the road shook Patrick violently, scattering his thoughts. Hundreds of apples covered him from prying eyes as Big Macintosh smuggled him out of Canterlot.

Groggily, Patrick rose up, and dug himself out of the sea of apples that entombed him.

“So,” Patrick yawned “Are we getting close?”

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh chewed on a blade of hayseed. “Wer’ here.”

“Huh?” Patrick examined his surroundings. He was in an alleyway, and recognized from the buildings and familiar cobblestone ground that it was Ponyville.

“I guess I nodded off,” Patrick stretched, and lowered himself out of the apple cart. “You think my bike’s still at the library?”

“Only one way ta’ find out,” Big Mac said.

“Right,” Patrick was about to climb back into the apple cart, when an irritatingly familiar voice interrupted him.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here again,” a gray stallion, sporting the same cocky grin as before, startled Patrick and Big Mac. His intimidating cohorts stood next to him, smirking diabolically.

Big Mac and Patrick exchanged nervous glances.

“I see your arm’s healed up,” Grayburn’s pride was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

“Well, that’s good. In fact, I’m glad you’re here,” he held out a piece of paper for the two to see. “Because you’re about to make the three of us some very wealthy stallions.”

Patrick squinted his eyes and read the flier Grayburn presented to them. It was a wanted poster, offering 100,000 bits to the pony that could capture the human that attempted to assassinate Princess Celestia.

“Oh, you gotta’ be kidding me,” Patrick turned to Big Mac.

“So, are you going to come quietly?” One of Grayburn’s minions taunted. “Or are we going to have to do this the hard way, again?”

Patrick was unarmed, but able bodied. However, charging into battle when you’re underequipped, outmatched, and outnumbered has led many to their demise. It would be over in a second if he still had his Glock 23. Patrick felt naked without it, and wasn’t used to depending only on his fists after always having a loaded weapon within reach for the past few years.

As the three began to approach them, Patrick made a subtle, swift movement with his head, hoping that Big Mac would catch his drift.

Thankfully, he did. Big Macintosh rocked the apple cart over with his weight, and quickly unhooked his yoke from the harness. It proceeded to cover the three stallions in an avalanche of ripened apples, stopping them in their tracks.

“RUN!” Patrick cried, and fled from the scene, Big Macintosh in suit. Patrick didn’t know how many ponies knew he was a fugitive, or if the Royal Guard was deployed here, but he was not getting his ass kicked again, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give Grayburn the satisfaction of turning him in for a fortune.

Grayburn dug himself out of the cargo of apples and picked himself up.

“Don’t just stand there, after them!”

Patrick and Big Mac tore through the Ponyville town center, knocking over a market stand in the process. The three stallions bent on wealth and fame broke after them, leaping over each obstacle the fleeing duo threw in their path.

Patrick had no idea where he was going, or which direction the library was in, so he ran in random directions, desperately trying to lose his pursuers. He turned a corner, and found himself trapped in an alleyway blocked by a wooden fence.

Big Macintosh rounded the corner just behind him and found himself in the same predicament. The fence was just too high to climb over, and it left them cornered.

“Stop right there!” Grayburn huffed, quickly collecting himself as his gang caught up with him. “You’ve got nowhere to run!”

Big Mac turned around to the fence, and then to Patrick.

“Ah can give ya' a boost over the fence,” Big Mac said. “Ah'll stay here, just go!”

Big Macintosh put his hooves out so that Patrick could get a boost over the fence, but Patrick stood rooted to the spot.

“No,” Patrick shook his head. “After you risking everything to help me, I’m not leaving you behind to get your ass kicked instead of mine.”

Patrick looked Grayburn straight in the eye, feeling his heart burn with rage. The very same rage he felt when Celestia told him everything she was responsible for.

Getting struck by lightning, wrecking his bike, getting attacked by a manticore, having his ass handed to him, being humiliated, having his ass handed to him again, and learning that his life was just a tool for a talking, flying unicorn from the future. Patrick was filled with an unquenchable anger that was only building and building.

But now, he had finally found someone he could take it out on. Patrick was almost even thankful he had this encounter. He had been given a second chance to redeem himself after Grayburn humiliated him. And this time, he wasn’t injured.

“Grab him!” Grayburn hollered. Grayburn advanced on Patrick, while his two friends went after Big Mac.

Patrick nodded to Big Mac, the red stallion returning his nod. The two stallions tried viscously to attack Big Macintosh and bring him to the ground, but he was just too big. Big Mac kicked and bucked violently, throwing one of the stallions into a wall with a painful THUMP!

Grayburn struck out at Patrick, but he quickly stepped out of the way loosened his stance. It was all coming back to him now. The hand-to-hand combat training the United States Army had engraved into the young man’s mind began to take over. Patrick stepped on the balls of his feet, bending his knees and bringing up his hands.

The stallion alarmingly noticed Patrick was using some sort of technique. Grayburn made an attempt to hurl a hoof at his head. Almost instinctively, Patrick bladed the attack meant for his face with his forearm, a standard blocking procedure in military hand-to-hand combat. Although, in this case, it was hand-to-hoof.

Patrick pulled his fist back and decked Grayburn square in the jaw, causing him to spit blood. He rushed forward and bucked Patrick into the wooden fence, making the wood splinter and several boards crack. The human jumped up to his feet, tackling him and locking him in a painful choke hold.

Grayburn bit into Patrick’s arm, causing the human to cry out in pain and release him. The stallion managed to swing an uppercut while Patrick still flailed on the ground, but Patrick swept Grayburn off his hooves with a well-placed kick to the abdomen, and got back on his feet.

Big Mac’s situation was comparable to that of a woolly mammoth attempting to fight off a pack of wolves. He was strong, but slow, and they were, weak, but fast. Big Mac cringed, as he was too slow to move out of the way before one of the stallions could deal a fresh blow to his face.

Big Macintosh used his size to his advantage, though. After many failed attempts, he flung his weight into each stallion and body slammed them to the ground repeatedly. After it looked like their efforts would be in vain, they backed off, fleeing from the alleyway and leaving their leader all on his own. Some loyal friends they turned out to be.

Grayburn, however, was still going at it with the human that would make him rich. Patrick was thrown into the fence again, splitting one of the boards in two. The two halves of the board loosely clung to the fence, just loose enough for Patrick to yank one half out by the nail.

Putting a bullet in Grayburn’s head would be satisfying. But blunt force trauma would be even more so.

SNAP!

Patrick swung his bludgeon right across Grayburn’s face, causing the wood to break and splinter into several small shards.

Grayburn rolled across the ground, blood dribbling from his snout and his mouth. Grayburn had flown back so far that the fight had moved outside the alleyway, and was now in full view of the general public.

Patrick grabbed Grayburn by the neck, but Grayburn headbutted Patrick’s skull, causing his vision to flash for a millisecond. The stallion pounded Patrick’s face and drew blood before he could shake him off.

It was then that Ace, Equestria’s fourth best tennis player, obliviously strolled into the fighting human and stallion’s path, knocking all three of them over. Ace’s racket clamored to the ground, which caught Patrick’s eye.

Patrick grabbed the racket from Ace’s side and walked purposely towards Grayburn, still reeling from the fall.

“Hey!” Ace yelled. “What are you doing with my racket?”

Patrick ignored the tennis-playing pony and cleared his throat.

“Hey, asshole!” Patrick shouted just before the stallion could pick himself up.

Grayburn spun around, and shrank back in horror when he saw Patrick strolling up to him with the racket in hand.

Oh no, it was one thing if he was just some pony trying to collect a bounty on him. That he could forgive. But this… This was payback.

“PAYBACK’S A BITCH!”

Patrick lunged forward and brought the racket down over Grayburn’s head. The nylon strings broke over his head, sliding down over his neck like a necklace. Grayburn collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain.

“What’s the matter?” Patrick kicked him in the ribs. “I thought you were some big, unstoppable badass?”

Grayburn coughed, spitting out a tooth onto the ground.

“I thought you ran this town?” Patrick struck him again, literally adding insult to injury.

Grayburn crawled across the ground, letting a smeared, red stain seep into the cracks of the cobblestone plaza.

More than a dozen ponies had begun to watch Patrick senselessly beat Grayburn, before Big Mac stepped in.

“That’s enough,” Big Mac put a hoof on Patrick’s shoulder. “Ah’m sure y’all got a lot of pent up rage, but at least show some dignity.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Patrick wiped a mixture of blood and sweat off his face.

The two grew increasingly anxious as the presence of pony bystanders, drawn by the fight, continued to grow.

If Grayburn had seen a wanted poster of Patrick, it was likely that the rest of them had too. Now was definitely the cue to leave, before another ambitious, amateur bounty hunter decided to try and apprehend him.

Big Macintosh and Patrick anxiously pushed through the crowd of ponies, heading towards the Ponyville Library. It was unlikely that Twilight would be home from Canterlot yet, and that was the last pony he needed to run into right now. All he had to do was run inside, grab his gear and his belongings, and make a break for it.

“Well, here we are,” Big Mac gestured to the library. Sure enough, his loyal Honda CBR was waiting for him outside.

Patrick let out a sigh of relief, and turned to Big Mac.

“Listen, I-“ Patrick stammered. “I really don’t know what to say. Just thank you, for having my back.”

“Mah’ pleasure,” Big Mac tended a bruise on his face. “Y’all should probly’ go, now.”

“Eeyup,” Patrick responded, shaking Big Macintosh’s hoof.

“Good luck with everythin’. Take it easy, now,” Big Macintosh began the long trek back to the farm. It was going to be a very sore apple-bucking season for the next few weeks.

Patrick faced the library and sighed. He inspected his motorcycle to make sure there were no signs of tampering, but refrained from starting it up.

“Okay,” Patrick thought. “Run in, grab my stuff, and get the fuck out.”

Patrick burst through the door, surprising Spike as he struggled to maintain his balance on a shelf ladder. He toppled over into a mountain of books.

“Hey!” Spike cried. “W-What are you doing here?”

Patrick did not respond. He raced up the stairs and tore through the dresser he’d been keeping his things in.

He slung a messenger bag Rarity had given him and threw his remaining packs of cigarettes, as well as the holster for his Glock 23 and the magazine with ten rounds still inside. They would probably be useless, but it wouldn’t hurt to bring them and ditch them along the way. The only thing Patrick left were his motorcycle boots. They wouldn’t fit in the bag, and they would only weigh him down.

“Hey!” Spike ran to the top of the stairs and crossed his arms. “I’m talkin’ to you!”

Patrick slipped into his jacket and zipped it up. He slid his helmet on and buckled it to his chin.

“You tried to kill the princess!” Spike spat angrily. Patrick paid him no mind. “You think you can just get away with something like that?”

Patrick decided it wasn’t worth it, and put on his gloves, fastening the Velcro straps tight.
He moved towards the stairs, but Spike refused to budge.

“Out of the way, squirt,” Patrick growled.

“No!” Spike said defiantly. “I’m not moving!”

“Fine, then,” Patrick effortlessly stepped right by the young dragon, despite Spike’s best efforts to stop him.

Spike ran to a writing desk and dipped a quill in ink. He furiously scribbled a message onto a sheet of paper.

Patrick’s eyes went wide, realizing what he was doing. He turned around and tackled spike just after the dragon blew enchanted fire onto the letter, sending it on its way.

“FUCK!” Patrick gasped, pulling himself to his feet and running for the door.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought!” Spike laughed. “Not so tough when Twilight shows up, are you?

Patrick bolted out the door and mounted his Honda CBR. He inserted the key into the ignition and pressed the starter.

“Come on, Come on,” Patrick pleaded with his bike. The engine chirped in long, drawn out sequences, desperately trying to turn over. It had been sitting for sometime, making a cold start-up more difficult than usual. Patrick twisted the throttle, allowing gas to flow into the fuel pump, and held down the starter once more.

Finally, the spark plugs ignited the gasoline and started the engine. Patrick pinned the throttle in neutral and let his engine roar as loud as it could, making several birds fly from their nests in the trees.

Just as Patrick was about to shift into first gear, a flash of blinding light shined in front of him.

Twilight, a furious expression on her face, stood offensively with her horn glowing and aimed directly at Patrick.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Twilight scowled. “Did you really think you could just try to assassinate Princess Celestia and escape, just like that?”

“She killed my best friends, right in front of me!” Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs.

“How would you react if some bitch was responsible for killing your friends, destroying your family, AND YOUR LIFE?!”

“That bitch happens to be my mentor!” Twilight replied.

“So, you’ll still stand by your mentor after she lies right to your face, and murders innocent people?” Patrick rebutted.

“Wow, you really are brainwashed. You’d do well in my military, Twilight. Taking orders, obediently and blindly following your superiors, no matter what atrocities they commit!”

“She did everything for a reason!” Twilight argued. “The Nightmare is coming back! Bringing you here and changing your past was the only thing that can stop it! How can you be so selfish? Why can’t you just forgive her and help us?”

“Forgive her?” Patrick repeated. “Imagine losing your friends! Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy. Imagine if Celestia did that to you, to your best friends! And not only that, to your family!”

Patrick threw his head back in frustration, seeing that she would not put herself in his shoes. Not that they would fit her hooves, anyway.

“My entire world was wiped out thousands of years ago! She refused to save my people, because then it would prevent yours from existing, but she still wants me to save Equestria!”

Twilight’s horn ceased glowing, and her face went low. She finally had the least bit of empathy for Patrick’s situation.

“So don’t even fucking talk to me about being selfish!”

“But, what about the Nightmare?” Twilight said. “What are we supposed to do, now? What’s going to happen to Equestria?”

“Quite frankly,” Patrick responded. “I don’t really give a shit. I’ve been ready to die since I pulled the trigger yesterday.”

Twilight dropped her eyes to the ground, and slowly sulked back into the library. She swung the door open with her magic.

“Fine,” Twilight muttered. “Just go. You’re better off on your own, anyway.”

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Patrick all by himself. He gazed at the fuel tank on his dashboard as the engine hummed. He had a little over half a tank left. With these road conditions, that could mean anywhere between one hundred or one hundred and fifty miles before he ran out of gas, and had to ditch this thing.

Patrick squeezed the clutch and shifted into gear, taking off down the dusty road leading into the Everfree forest. A monster-infested forest was probably not the smartest place to go when he was unarmed, but since every pony in Ponyville was probably buzzing about the human that showed up, beat up a thug, and rode off into the sunset, the Royal Guard couldn’t be far behind.

“It’s gonna be a good day,” Patrick sighed as the canopy of the Everfree Forest enveloped him in its shade.

36 hours ago…

“Alright, then!” Rainbow Dash turned to Applejack. “Let’s get to work.”

Out of the corner of the room, a transparent blur stealthily made its way out the window, floating off into the sky without alerting any of the royal guests.

Luna landed in a separate part of the castle, disengaging her invisibility spell. What was she to do?

She knew of the ponies’ plot to free Patrick, the right thing to do would be to tell Celestia immediately.

But then, what would happen to them? Celestia may not be as forgiving to the elements of harmony now, what if they suffered the same fate as her? What if Celestia really would banish them?

And what if the right thing to do was to go against her own blood, let the human escape, even aid him in it?

Celestia would still be able to find Patrick, even if the unicorn cast a spell to block her. The Royal Guard had stripped him of his weapon, where it was currently, Luna couldn’t say. By having something of Patrick’s in her possession, Celestia would still have a link to him. Only magic used by an Alicorn, or more recently, as she’d learned, a human, would successfully block out Patrick from the eyes of Alicorn magic.

It would be too obvious if Luna interfered, being the only other Alicorn in known Equestria. But if she could find out what happened to that weapon…

…And it somehow found its way back into Patrick’s possession, then maybe he’d have a chance.

A chance, and that was it. Provided they were able to combat the Nightmare, when and if it attacked. She would still be able to plead ignorance to her sister, and the human would be freed.

Luna shook the thought out of her head, ruffling her mane.

“No,” she thought. “Perhaps if he didn’t try to kill my own sister, I’d be more willing to help him.” She needed to tell Celestia at once.

Luna strolled the castle halls, each and every Royal Guard snapping to attention in respect. Since the assassination attempt, security was heightened all throughout Canterlot.

A generously decorated door, framed by golden plates resembling the sun’s rays, led to Celestia’s bedchambers. Luna approached the door, flanked by two Royal Unicorn guards.

“Your highness,” the guard bowed. “Celestia has confined herself to her chambers for a meditation session. She has asked to be left alone.”

“I see,” Luna replied. “But I must speak to her at once. Please let me through.”

“As you wish.” The guards stepped out of the way as she entered, shutting the doors behind her.

Celestia’s bedchambers was like a luxurious hotel suite a commoner could only dream of. Sitting next to a fireplace on a seat cushion was the sun princess, her head bowed in a meditative trance. She didn’t seem to acknowledge Luna’s presence.

Sitting on a table was the human-turned-assassin’s weapon. In neat rows adjacent to the hand-cannon were the shells of the projectiles it spat, and the projectiles themselves; flattened and deformed from their failed impacts.

“Sister!” Luna almost called out, but she held back. Curiosity compelled her to find out what her sister was doing.

Luna cast her invisibility spell, turning her body into nothing more than a patch of transparent air to the naked eye.

Celestia seemed to be mumbling something, but Luna was too far away to hear. She gently lifted herself up off the ground with her wings, so as to avoid the noise of her hoofsteps, and quietly floated within earshot of Celestia’s ramblings.

“-I just wasn’t anticipating for him to find out like this. He found a collection of human artifacts kept here in the castle.”

There was a long silence. Celestia’s horn glowed faintly, shining a small light out in the dim firelight.

“There is not enough time to cast the time spell again. I’m at a loss for what the next course of action should be.”

Luna held her breath, keeping as quiet and still as possible.

“I only wish it wouldn’t have had to be done this way. And now, it was all for nothing. The Nightmare could begin its attack at any time, and I am not able to stop it. Only he is.”

Luna’s heart went cold at the mere mention of the Nightmare. She desperately wished she could hear the other end of the conversation. Who was Celestia talking to?

“The Nightmare will attack very soon, and many of my little ponies will die. You may be able to change his mind, but remember the circumstances. If he knows that humanity will be saved, then the Elements of Harmony will not be strong enough to defeat the Nightmare. Only when his broken spirit chooses to help Equestria out of the kindness of his heart, will you be able to use the elements to their full capacity, and finally eradicate the Nightmare.”

Celestia was silent for nearly five minutes. Luna almost undid her invisibility spell, as it seemed Celestia was finished. But she continued to wait, and her patience did not go unrewarded.

“I understand,” Celestia finally uttered. “Then I shall let him. I cannot allow the Nightmare to destroy my kingdom. How Equestria or my sister will fare without me, I can’t say. But, I am willing to take that sacrifice.”

“-And…” Celestia murmured so quietly that Luna had to prick up her ears.

“I’m sorry,” several tears began to drip down Celestia’s face.

“I-I’m sorry, Jose.”

The Nightmare took a moment to appreciate its work after spending the past several days working non-stop. It gazed upon its recently acquired goldmine: a fully repaired, fully operational arsenal of ancient nuclear warheads.

It used its own magic to cast a spell upon them, the magic mixing with their radioactive cores. Not only would the detonation be devastating, and the fallout lasting for years to come, the vicinity in which they were detonated would no longer be able to support magic.

The human compound they resided in, even in its ruined state, was a wealth of knowledge. Artifacts in this structure solved problems nopony in Equestria’s current society could answer to.

Everything was in place, and the time for the Nightmare to act couldn’t be any better. Equestria would not suspect any attack after it had been “defeated” at the Summer Sun Celebration, and everypony thought that the Nightmare was no more.

Equestria’s major cities and its royalty were also a bit preoccupied with a recent failed assassination attempt. It was a pity it wasn’t successful, it would have just made the Nightmare’s job that much easier.

But what was intriguing about the assassin was that it was the human that had arrived in Equestria several weeks ago. It was unlikely that this human would show up without the divine intervention of Celestia herself. However, it still was not worth revealing itself to eliminate him, only for Celestia to banish it once more.

And from what the Nightmare had observed, this human must have something very strong against Celestia to even attempt an act unthinkable to most ponies in her kingdom.

Whoever this human was, he obviously did not pose a threat. Whatever Celestia had been planning backfired, leaving absolutely nothing that could stop the Nightmare.

Except, as always, the Elements of Harmony. If used correctly, they would threaten the Nightmare’s very existence. The secrets to the Elements were lost when those who came before disappeared. But Celestia’s only defense was banishment, and banishment would not stop the Nightmare forever.

The Nightmare had put quite enough thought into this. It was finally time to put the royal sisters in their place, putting an end to their rule once and for all. The human weaponry the Nightmare had painstakingly repaired and modified with its dark magic were ready. After taking the time to understand how these weapons worked, creating more was no longer beyond the Nightmare’s capability.

The plan was simple: Disrupt Equestria‘s society by destroying its major cities. Not only would the anti-magic provide the Nightmare with safe havens, but the dust from the burning cities and landscapes would block out the sun. It would not be an eternal night, but Celestia’s uneducated populace wouldn’t know the difference.

Equestria would slip into anarchy, and support for the royalty would be diminished, while the Nightmare would rise. Crops would fail, economies would collapse, and with Celestia and Luna gone, the Nightmare could create a world in its own image. A world much like the humans’ time: Where discovery, progress, and knowledge are pursued over the values of life, love, and welfare. It would be their god.

After meticulous preparation and forethought, the Nightmare formulated each step of its plan very carefully. An ideal first strike would be Canterlot, but there was always the possibility of banishment if the Nightmare wasn’t quick enough. It needed to be a city of high importance and high population, it’s destruction needed to make a significant impact before the next detonation would take place. After much thought, the Nightmare’s first target was set on Manehattan: A large, well-known metropolitan city.

The Nightmare cast a teleportation spell, carrying the weaponry it had worked so hard to refurbish and manipulate to its liking. It was now or never.

Twilight sighed as she watched Patrick ride off from the library window. He eventually disappeared off into the distance, the incessant hum of his engine no longer in earshot.

“See?” Spike picked up the piles of books he had fallen into. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but…”

“I don’t know Spike,” Twilight contemplated the conversation he just had with Patrick. “I’m beginning to think that maybe he was right.”

“What?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure trying to kill the princess isn’t right.”

“I know Celestia only did everything with saving Equestria in mind,” she stated. “But she made him lose his friends.”

“His friends?” Spike gave her his full attention.

“I didn’t mention everything in the letter I sent you about it, Spike. I was just a little too shook up,” she explained.

“Celestia changed his past, so that he would be what Equestria needed to stop the Nightmare.”

“Like... How?” Spike asked. “What does this have to do with losing his friends?”

“Well,” Twilight licked her lips. “He says he watched them die, when he fought in a war, and something about his family being torn apart. Celestia admitted to making that happen.”

“Wait, hold up, Princess Celestia did that? Are you sure we have the right Princess?”

“Yes, Spike,” she nodded. “I’m sure.”

Spike opened his mouth to speak, but fell short of words.

“And I can’t imagine what I would do if I lost my friends,” Twilight said.

Spike had just finished putting the last fallen book off the shelf, when a low rumble began to shake the library. The branches of the giant oak tree it was carved into shook violently, knocking a majority of the books off the shelves and picture frames from the walls.

“W-w-w-what’s g-g-g-o-i-i-i-n-n-n-g-g-g o-o-o-n-n-n?” Spike was rattled back and forth on the floor.

“Earthquake!” Twilight cried, throwing Spike onto her back and ducking under a writing desk. Finally, the tremor stopped, and all was calm once again.

“I-is it over?” Spike whispered.

“I think so,” Twilight answered.

The library was a total mess. Every last book was thrown off the shelves, and furniture became overturned. Cautiously, they poked their heads out the front door to see if there was any further damage outside.

“Um, Twilight?” Spike pointed across the horizon. “What’s that?”

A dark, foreboding mushroom cloud loomed off in the distance in the direction of Manehattan. It slowly crept upwards, smothering the sun and tinting the sky into a hideous greenish-yellow.
Twilight’s heart nearly skipped a beat, watching as the cloud sluggishly churned and curled.

“It’s the Nightmare.”

Chapter 13

The sun baked Equestria into an orange, sticky heat. Manehattan, a colossal pony city, bustled with commercial and leisurely activity. While those who seized the day were hard at work, a professionally dressed stallion sipped at his coffee, enjoying his self-decided lunch hour outside on a Moonbucks Coffee shop patio.

Amicus Curiae was a prominent citizen and scholar of Manehattan. One of the city’s most well-known attorneys, he tackled only the biggest of criminal cases, cases he more than often won.

However, he was distressed over his current case, set to go to trial in the coming months. So distressed, he felt he needed to leave his firm’s office for a breath of fresh air.

“I swear,” thought Amicus. “Robbing the Museum of Natural Pony history, this is going to be a tough one to explain.”

This case was different, however. His client was no doubt a member of the Manehattan Mafia. This client’s posse, who assured Amicus that they were merely concerned “friends,” paid him in cash, anonymously, to represent him in court.

“I have taken worse cases, sure,” Amicus stared into his steaming coffee. “But none of them left so much evidence!”

Amicus buried his face in his hooves.

“And if I lose, the mob is going to whack me! Why did I ever take this case?”

Amicus Curiae downed the rest of his coffee and made his way back to his law firm.

“Celestia, please, just strike me down!” the lawyer pony moped.

Little did Amicus know, he was going to get his wish.

There was a high-pitched whine, coming from a certain direction. Amicus peered at the horizon through the gaps in several buildings, and saw the last thing he’d ever see.

A blinding light tore through his vision, overloading his retinas and burning the light receptor cells in his eyes until they were useless, fleshy matter.

There was gigantic blast, throwing Amicus and any other pony on the street to the ground. A searing wave of heat and gamma radiation vaporized any living thing within the blast’s ground zero. Amicus felt his skin burn away, followed by the rest of him, until there was nothing left but a black, ashy stain on the pavement, among dozens of others.

Skyscrapers, once tall and distinguished, crumbled from their foundations. Some buildings blew away with the wind, like the seeds of a dandelion puff-ball. Immediately after the flash of light, a ball of fire, curling upwards towards the sky, formed into an iconic mushroom cloud.

A rush of breakneck winds accompanied the deafening, blinding explosion, toppling over structures and kicking up ash in the air. Equestria’s formal, luxurious city that never slept, was finally put to rest. An entire metropolis was reduced to rubble in the blink of an eye.

Just when anypony still alive thought it was over, a second, smaller blast echoed across the destroyed city. But this explosion was not blinding like the first, quite the opposite. This detonation was so dark, it appeared as though it were night time for a split second. It puffed out violently and burst into a million fragments, raining intangible black shards of dark magic across the landscape.

Survivors outside ground zero barely clung to life. They suffered life-threatening third-degree burns, and most had been blinded. Desperate cries of blinded survivors calling out to somepony, anypony, for help, could be heard across the desolate landscape. The lucky ones ended up as black stains on the ground. The unlucky ones suffered slow, radiation-induced deaths.

The furious winds had begun to die down, but it wasn’t over yet. The smoldering, flattened city smoked profusely. The soot and ash from the burning structures rose into the air, snuffing out the sun and painting the sky a rotten, olive drab.

Whatever authoritative forces responsible in Manehattan were no more. They required order to operate, and that was a luxury former Manehattan could no longer have. Any city services, such as medical care, firefighters, the Manehattan Guard, and any other forms of aid, would have to come from foreign sources, leaving those that needed urgent medical attention to die in the rubble of the once-illustrious city.

Pegasus ponies found themselves grounded by change in pressure, and could not catch any air under their wings and were unable to flee. Unicorns urgently tried to heal themselves, to teleport away, to lift the rubble of their former homes and workplaces to find survivors.

But they couldn’t.

“What the hay is going on?!?!?!” a unicorn mare, badly burnt, tried again and again to tend to her injured foal.

Her horn refused to cast any spell, and any familiar presence of magic itself had vanished.

“Mommy?” the foal whimpered. It had been blinded, and was bleeding out of his nose, mouth, and ears. “Where are you? Are we going to be okay?”

“I’m over here, sweetie,” she cooed, throwing him on her back. Having her foal sprawled out across her back stung her burned skin, but it was better than watching him stumble around with no sight.

“W-we’ll be a-alright,” the unicorn blubbered, tears running down her cheeks. “W-we just need to find other p-ponies, e-everything’s going to be just… fine.”

All the while, the Nightmare watched its plan in motion. Step one: Create confusion and fear among the populace.

What caused this devastation? What city would be next? How long until the next attack?

Truthfully, it could be any place at any time. For now, it was time to let the ponies’ fears and anxieties build.

The Nightmare had purposely chosen a smaller, less powerful nuclear weapon for the first attack. Even then, almost all of Manehattan had been leveled with this lesser powerful piece of human technology, and it still had an entire arsenal. The winds would spread disease, radiation, and anti-magic, something of the Nightmare’s own design, to the surrounding landscape. And this was only the beginning.

Each attack would use increasingly stronger and larger amounts of this nuclear weaponry. It would generate fear, and the princess would be able to do nothing to stop it. Princess Celestia may even SURRENDER to the Nightmare, being helpless to stop all of her little ponies from perishing, one city at a time. Of course, that would cost both Celestia and Luna their lives, and Celestia knew that.

It would save the Nightmare a lot of trouble, that’s for sure. But should that not happen, Equestria’s anarchy-stricken citizens would rebel. With a Princess that failed to serve even their basic needs, why obey? Why remain loyal? Any location could be wiped off the face of the Earth at any moment. Being loyal to the royalty was no longer able to protect them. What was the point?

It would force them to do things Celestia would never allow them to do: Research. Invent. Discover.
Research a way to survive in these conditions, and destroy Celestia’s influence. Invent a way to come about that goal. Discover how to do so.

And with the Nightmare backing them up, they would be unstoppable. They would fight the sun and moon tyrants, and the Nightmare would lead the charge.

Satisfied with the scene laid before it, the Nightmare fled quickly, as Celestia would no doubt hear of this incident soon and come to investigate. Banishment would cause the Nightmare to lose its stock of human weaponry, and the secrets of human innovation and Celestia’s regime would never be exposed.
It had one chance, and the Nightmare was not going to beaten so easily. Celestia would fall.

24 hours ago…

“What do you mean he escaped?!” Celestia gasped.

“I-Uh,” Celestia’s lieutenant stammered. “We came back this morning, as your orders, and he was gone. There’s not a trace of him left. He-“ Lieutenant Black Sword scratched the back of his head.

“There was a gaping hole where the barred window i- Used, to be. He must have… Ripped it out of the wall, and jumped thirty stories,” the lieutenant smiled sheepishly.

“No,” Celestia feared the worst. “Did he- Did you find the body?”

“That’s the thing, your highness,” Black Sword spoke. “Not a trace.”

“So, he didn’t commit suicide,” Celestia gave a sigh of relief. “He obviously wasn’t able to do this on his own. He must have had some aid escaping.”

Celestia followed the Lieutenant into Patrick’s former cell. It was the same as the last time she’d seen it, minus a gaping hole in the wall letting in cool night air.

“Your highness, if I may?” the lieutenant spoke up. “Why didn’t you post some sort of security on that thing? If the guard was authorized to stay here, we could have prevented his escape!”

“It’s complicated, Black Sword,” Celestia replied. “The only hope Equestria has to fight the Nightmare in the coming days is Patrick. And the only way I was going to acquire his assistance is if I gained his trust.”

“I see,” Black Sword replied. “I think you may have trusted him a bit too much, if you ask me. Leaving him alone in a dungeon all night? What else is a prisoner going to do?”

Celestia was rather put off by that comment, but respectfully shrugged it off.

“Not only that,” she glared at him. “But I couldn’t even trust my own guards not to beat him to death.”

Lieutenant Black Sword dug at the ground with his hoof shamefully.

“Now, please excuse me, Black Sword,” Celestia turned around and walked out of the dungeon. “My sister should just be returning from raising the moon, and I must have a word with her about this matter immediately.”

“Of course, your highness. And the pegasi will take flight within the hour, every town within a day’s journey of Canterlot will see his bounty by tomorrow morning.”

Celestia entered Luna’s bedchambers and stood on the balcony. Luna did not keep her waiting long.

“Sister!” Luna landed just at her side. “What brings you to my-“

“We need to talk, Luna,” Celestia interrupted.

“A-about what, exactly?” Luna stuttered.

“Oh, I think you know.”

Luna hung her head in shame. It wasn’t like she could keep it a secret forever.

“Yes,” Luna sighed. “I was dreading this moment, sister.”

“How did Patrick escape, Luna?” Celestia asked firmly.

Luna stared off into the Everfree forest, more than likely where the human was hiding. She bit her lip and held her tongue, trying to figure out the best way to explain it to her sister.

“Were any of the royal guests involved?”

Luna exhaled audibly, and finally nodded.

“Y-yes,” she cleared her throat.

The royal sisters gazed into each other’s eyes, neither speaking a word for an inappreciable moment.

“Luna-“ Celestia gasped.

“…How could you? You knew as well as I did-“

“-It wasn’t right,” Luna looked to the floor. “You knew that as well as I did.”

“Sister,” Celestia took a few steps away. “We are now defenseless from the Nightmare. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I blocked any locater spells from revealing Patrick’s whereabouts, and I aided your student’s friends by redirecting patrols and dismissing some all together. Without their knowledge, though. Yes, I realize what I did. And do you realize what you’ve done?”

“What do you mean?” Celestia questioned.

“You traded human blood for the safety of our kingdom. That is not how we rule, sister. We have never ruled this way, we have prevented wars and making the same mistakes as humans. We have made difficult decisions, we have condemned criminals and monsters to death.

But Patrick was innocent! He did not deserve this, nor did any of his friends or family. Their bond of friendship is powerful enough to destroy the Nightmare, that much I know, but there were other ways, you just weren’t willing to take the risk! You destroyed countless human beings’ lives, you took the easy way out!”

“Millions of my little ponies are going to die,” Celestia’s voice cracked. For the first time that Luna could remember, Celestia did not speak in a royal, compassionate fashion she was so famous for.

She was afraid.

She was ashamed. She was heartbroken. Her eyes spoke it all, Luna could tell she had been crying recently.

“Why?” Celestia asked Luna. “Why didn’t you trust my decisions?”

“He wasn’t going to cooperate, anyway, Celestia. What you made me do to him weighed on my conscience heavily, I had to do something. Whatever threat you believe the Nightmare poses, I know it better than anypony. There are certain limitations by which it is bound, it is not as powerful as you think.”

“Clearly, you don’t understand what it is capable of, and what its true intentions have always been.”

“And you clearly don’t understand the first thing about the very lessons you teach your student, and our kingdom!”

“I did what I had to do,” Celestia murmured. “For Equestria. And I will continue to do so, no matter how much it costs me of myself.”

Celestia left the balcony and headed for the door.

“Sister, wait!” Luna cried. “Where are you going? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Luna,” Celestia said with a tear in her eye. She stepped through the door, her horn gave off a bright purple glow and encased Luna’s bedroom in a confining spell.

“Tia! What did you just do?” Luna shrieked.

“I cannot afford for you to be interfering anymore. The only hope I have to save Equestria is to bring Patrick back to Canterlot. I don’t know how, but I will convince him to trust us, without telling him that I CAN save humanity.”

“TIA!” Luna pounded on a rippling wall of magic that filled the doorframe and balcony window, sealing her inside.

“I’m your sister! How can you do this to me… AGAIN?!”

“I’m going to go have a word with our guests,” Celestia sighed, and shut the door. Luna’s muffled protests continued to ring out from behind it.

“CELESTIA! YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE! YOU CAN’T KEEP ME HERE FOREVER! I SWEAR, IF YOU BANISH THEM LIKE YOU DID ME, I’LL-”

It broke Celestia’s heart, but Luna didn’t really give her a choice. As long as there was still a chance Patrick and his friends could use the Elements, there was a chance she could fix everything. A chance to save her kingdom. To save her little ponies she held so dear.

A chance to save humankind.

December 21, 2013
1500 Hours
Camp Arifjan, Kuwait
US Army SPC Jose Reyes
187th Infantry

Camp Arifjan had been satirically adorned with Christmas decorations by the disgruntled personnel stationed there. It was relatively quiet, as more than half of the base’s population was on leave for the holidays.

Specialist Reyes was rather enjoying his few days of R&R at the fort. He’d had about enough of Afghanistan for a lifetime. At least here, there was no distant hostile gunfire, no backward-ass locals, and no random mortars hitting random parts of the bases at random times of the day. And not only that, three weeks ago he had been shot in the helmet, and lived to talk about it.

“Okay,” Captain Richards sifted through a file of Jose’s paperwork. Standard papers, such as his passport, dossier, and other bureaucratic documents Jose didn’t care to glance at. Jose couldn’t remotely stand the thought of paperwork. Thankfully, there was an officer on base willing to notarize everything for him so he could get his Christmas leave.

Richards tapped the bottom of a pile of lose documents until they became a neat and even stack, stamped them with a notary, and handed them back to Jose.

“You’re all set. The flight leaves at o-nine-hundred tomorrow morning, enjoy your leave.”

“Much appreciated, sir. Feliz navidad,” Jose smiled.

“We say 'Merry Christmas' around here, boy,” the Captain took a shot from a flask hidden in his pocket.

“You know you stink of prohibited beverages every time I come in here, right? I can smell it from the hallway.”

“I’m an officer,” Richards kicked back in his chair. “Who’s going to give a fuck?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, sir,” Jose shrugged, excusing himself from the captain’s office.

Jose didn’t want to admit it, but he had always been sort of a goody-two shoes. It was partly to blame on his father, raising him to such high standards.

Jose’s father was a prominent doctor in a city on the US-Mexican border. However, drug cartels had threatened him and his family for treating police officers wounded by their bullets.

Ever since he moved to the United States from Mexico, Jose’s father made every effort for his family not to turn into what he referred as “wetbacks.”

“I didn’t bust my ass and bring us out of Ciudad Juarez to become the stereotypical migrant workers panhandling outside Home Depot- to install lighting fixtures and floor tiles. You are better than that, my son, you are capable of so much more.”

It had been Jose’s dream to go into the military ever since he was little. There was so much honor, so many benefits, he’d be a hero to his country, to his parents! When he finally did, the look his father gave him from graduation of basic training, the day he became a soldier, made everything he’d been through so far worth it.

“I am so proud of you, Jose.”

Jose was a good kid, he had good morals. However, that still never kept him with a clean arrest record. Everytime he and his best friend got into trouble, it was never Jose’s fault in the long run. A goody two-shoes by nature, but easily persuaded. Because of that, in his circle of friends, he was always the voice of reason. The voice that said:

“Guys, we can go to jail for this shit.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure it’s a bad idea to mix Vicodin and vodka.”

“You know, yelling ‘FUCK YOU NIGGER’ at every black person we pass by in the the car can get us shot…”

Jose had an odd choice of friends, but his parents reluctantly accepted them. He really tested his relationship with his parents when he showed up with his best friend since first grade, a convicted felon serving parole so he could finish high school, and tells them that he’s staying with them.

Speaking of his best friend, there he was, sitting with his back against the wall, attempting to find some refuge from the wind while lighting a cigarette. The Kuwaiti desert completely disregarded Christmas, and drenched the outpost in a windy, yet scorching heat.

“Hey!” Jose waved. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Patrick sighed, releasing a cloud of smoke from his lungs.

“You know smoking’s terrible for you,” Jose crossed his arms.

“We’ve been through this, man,” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Tobackie causes cancer, I’m all too aware of that and I accept the risk. I raced motorcycles, I’m in the Army, I accepted the fact I could die at any time a long time ago.”

“True that,” Jose watched as a truck passed them by. “So, did you get your leave?”

“Not really,” Patrick kicked a rock across the sand.

“What? That sucks! Why wouldn’t they give you your leave? It’s Christmas! You haven’t even used any of it since we got here!”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “It’s not because they didn’t give it to me. They offered, but…”

“Wait, what?” Jose scratched his head. “Why didn’t you take it, then? When’s the next time you’re going to be able go?”

“Listen, bro,” Patrick inhaled his nicotine fix. “My mom was declared clinically insane, my dad’s in the Georgia state pen, and none of my relatives really want anything to do with me after all that, plus the whole ‘getting arrested for street racing and running from the cops on a regular basis’ thing.”

“Joe, Ryan, Spencer, and Louis are already gone and won’t be back for weeks, what’s here to stay for? We’ve been deployed for a year and a half, Pat, I’d think you of all people would want to get out on leave any chance you get.”

“I think I’m just going to chill here. You may have your family waiting for you when you get back,” Patrick tossed his cigarette butt away. “But I don’t. You guys are all I’ve got now.”

Jose was silent.

“I’ll see you later, Jose. It’s hot as fuck out here.”

“See ya’,” Jose murmured, watching his friend make his way back to the barracks.

Jose looked back at the office he just emerged from, and went back inside. He re-entered Captain Richards’s office, slamming his approved documents and airline ticket down on his desk.

“Jesus! You’re going to spill my beer if you come burstin’ in like that,” Richards whined as he just barely caught a standard-issue canteen disguised to hold his alcohol.

“Take me off the list for my leave, I’m staying here.”

“Well, that’s fine, soldier, that’s just fine,” Captain Richards looked over the paperwork he had just finished painstakingly going over.

“But if I revoke this leave I just signed over, you can’t get it back. Meaning, you won’t be able to make it up later.”

“I don’t care,” Jose crossed his arms. “Put me in the barracks for my leave. Just do it.”

“Fine, two weeks of R&R in the barracks. Then, you and the rest of your platoon are headed back to the shit.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jose left the office, heading back outside.

“What an idiot,” Captain Richards muttered as he downed whatever was left in his canteen.

Patrick spent his time watching movies he’d seen a hundred times in the rec-room. There wasn’t many other ways to beat the heat, but the rec-room was one of the few places that was air conditioned here.

Two weeks of rest and relaxation would be nice. But he was going to be all alone. He didn’t know anyone else here, his entire platoon was on leave, including his friends, and now Jose. It was going to be Patrick’s first Christmas where he was totally and utterly alone.

“Patrick, you in here?” Jose’s voice called out. Patrick turned around on the worn and aged sofa that had been abused by generations of soldiers.

“Hey, what’re you watching?”

“Uh,” Patrick sat up from his reclined position to make room for Jose. “Ghost Busters.”

“We seriously need some new movies, it’s not like they can’t afford them,” Jose shrugged.

“Shouldn’t you be packing?” Patrick asked.

“Nah,” Jose shook his head. “I think I’m just going to chill here.”

Patrick smiled, fighting the urge not to burst into tears.

“Thanks, man.”

Chapter 14

Zecora spent almost all day, everyday scouring the forest for roots and herbs for her various brews. Nurse Redheart had requested a large shipment of medicine, so the zebra shaman had plenty to keep her busy.

She hummed to herself as she sprinkled a jar of shredded herbs into a large, bubbling cauldron. It wasn’t a fun task, but this medicine would greatly benefit the residents of ponyville.

VROOOOOMMMMMMMmmmmmm……

Zecora stopped what she was doing, raising her head in alarm.

That sound…

It was eerily familiar. That last time she heard that sound was when that human-

BAM-BAM-BAM

Somepony was frantically pounding on Zecora’s door. It wasn’t often she had visitors, so it took her by surprise.

She made her way to the door and cautiously opened it, when a sight for sore eyes greeted her.

The same, broken human being that Rainbow Dash led to her several days ago was on her doorstep; out of breath, a worried expression on his face. He was so panic-stricken, he hadn’t even taken off his helmet, or any of his armor. A messenger bag was slung across his back, and his black, metal steed was gently parked under the shade of a nearby spruce tree. But something in him had changed since their last encounter, his eyes spoke it all. And it wasn’t subtle whatsoever.

Zecora blinked, gazing at his depth from a more spiritual perspective. As she had told him in their last encounter, his eyes glowed red in the spirit world, as was normal for a soul who had taken the life of another.

But they weren’t dimly glowing anymore. They were BURNING red. It was as if a sea of blood had caught fire in his pupils, demonstrating the sheer malice he felt in his heart. Something had definitely taken a turn for the worse when they met the royalty.

“Zecora,” he panted incoherently. “I… Celestia… She… My friends...I tried to...”

“Patrick, what in Equestria is going on?” she asked. “Just take a deep breath, and tell me what is wrong.”

Patrick was completely out of breath, bending over and putting his hands on his knees.

“I-I, I don’t know what to do!” Patrick cried.

“Human, I cannot understand this chatter,” Zecora sighed. “Please, come inside, sit down, and tell me what is the matter.”

Zecora sat Patrick down at a table while her medicinal brew continued to boil.

“Okay,” Patrick let out a deep breath, removing his helmet. “We went to Canterlot or whatever, we talked to the princesses. I found a room full of human artifacts. I found the very same rifle I used in the Army! They lied to us!”

“That’s not even the worst part,” Patrick explained.

“Celestia killed my friends! She changed my past, SHE brought me here, she manipulated my life so that we could use the Elements of Harmony, or some shit, to destroy ‘the Nightmare!’ She knowingly let my people destroy themselves, because if they didn’t, Equestria wouldn’t exist! But, she wants me to save her people when she won’t even save humanity!”

He waited it to hit Zecora, for her to be shocked and speechless, but she didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“Wait a minute,” Patrick said. “Did… Did you know this all along?”

“That I have, my human friend,” she spoke solemnly. “The spirits of your companions informed me in the first place of this act so unreverend.”

“THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Patrick banged his fists down on the table.

“When I found all this out, I tried to KILL her! I’m on the RUN right now!”

“You-You tried to kill the Princess Celestia?” Zecora gasped. “Please tell me you are joking, in the name of Equestria.”

“Notice how I’m missing something?” Patrick pointed to his hip, and then withdrew the empty holster from his messenger bag.

“Apparently, she can stop bullets. The ponies I’ve been living with broke me out of their dungeon, I escaped, and now I’m here.”

“This… This isn’t good,” Zecora rubbed her temples in thought. “I thought you’d react differently than you thought you should.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Patrick grumbled. “But, hey- You’d be mad, too, if this shit happened to you, right?”

Zecora nodded. “Yes, Patrick, I would indeed, but my advice, you did not heed.”

“Everything changed when she’s responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened to me!” Patrick interrupted her. He stood up and paced around her hut.

“I’m only twenty-one years old, why the fuck didn’t she pick someone older, who at least had more life to live?! Why did it have to be me? Other people have friends, too! I don’t understand ANY of this!”

“You are different, Corporal Wilcox,” Zecora spoke. The mere mention of his rank made him obediently snap to attention. “You are the embodiment of the very thing the Nightmare mocks.”

“What?! How do you know my rank? How did you know my last name? What does that mean?”

“The magic of friendship you and your comrades share, is greater than any being that’s ever lived can hope to bear.”
Patrick broke eye contact, getting lost in thought.

“And forgive me, human, but I thought,” Zecora replied. “You were twenty years of age, were you not?”

“Yes,” Patrick sighed. “But… Today’s my birthday. At least, in my time.”

“I see,” Zecora bowed her head.

“Patrick please, forgive my deceit,” Zecora responded. “But had I told you, Equestria’s struggle against the Nightmare would have been a crushing defeat.”

Patrick grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket and headed for the door.

“I really wish someone would just tell me the truth for once!” Patrick grumbled. “And I don’t know how, but I’m going to kill Celestia. I made her a promise I intend to keep!”

“Patrick, wait! My intentions from the beginning have only been to help,” Zecora grabbed him by the pants leg to stop his departure. “But you need to stop and just listen to yourself!”

“I’m still killing her,” Patrick muttered. “If you fuck with me, that’s one thing. If you fuck with my friends AND my parents, that’s another thing.”

“Trading blood for blood will not quell your broken heart,” Zecora said. “Taking the life of the princess will only tear you apart.”

An incredibly sharp, dominating crack burst across the Everfree forest, followed by a rumbling of the ground, and powerful gusts of winds that pushed all of the trees in their vicinity in one direction. Several trees were downed, while some lacked any leaves at all.

Potions, pots, and pans fell from the shelves of Zecora’s hut, leaving a mess of her personal collections of assorted items all over her living space’s floor. The cauldron cooking over the fire pit in the center of the room was overturned, spilling a mess of goop everywhere and making all her previous work redundant.

Zecora leapt under the table, assuming an earthquake was responsible for this turmoil. Patrick stood in awe, not knowing where to run. When it finally ended, Zecora poked her head out from under the table.

“Was that the end of this uproar?” Zecora whispered. “What was all this commotion for?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick replied. Zecora and Patrick went outside to investigate, but found nothing other than a few downed trees to answer them.

“Wait a minute,” Patrick looked just above the tree line. There was a faint outline of something, but the trees blocked his view.

“I think there’s something off in the distance, can we get higher up to see?”

Zecora nodded, pointing to a ladder next to the hut. It led to a small crow’s nest built into the gnarled willow tree she resided in.

Patrick ascended the ladder, stepping up into the lofty platform. He helped Zecora up, and then turned to face the horizon, and felt sick to his stomach.

It… It couldn’t be.

“Holy… Fucking… Shit.”

Patrick’s chest went stone cold. Celestia was telling him the truth. The Nightmare was real. Incredibly, and unfortunately, real. The fate of the world really did rest on his shoulders.

There was a lack of haze shrouding the horizon. It was many miles away, but it was unmistakably a mushroom cloud, swirling high above the Earth’s surface and extending upwards into the atmosphere. And there was only one thing that could cause a mushroom cloud that big.

A nuclear bomb.

“Well,” Patrick said as-a-matter-of-factly. “I guess the Princess was telling the truth. The Nightmare is real. And it has weapons of mass destruction. Huh.”

“Is that what caused this explosion so loud?” Zecora murmured. “What on earth is that evil cloud?”

This brought another problem, though. That explosion was miles away, but fallout wouldn’t be far behind. Patrick was no nuclear technician, but he understood that anything radioactive equals bad. He needed to run.

“Um, Zecora,” Patrick stammered. He cleared his throat and collected himself. “You need to run. You need to get as far away from here as you can.”

“Human, you clearly know more about this than I,” Zecora started. “What is that cloud off in the sky?”

“There’s no time!” Patrick slid down the ladder, and strapped his helmet on. He started up his Honda CBR and jumped onto the seat.

“You’ve helped me this far, so now I’m going to help you with some advice,” Patrick shouted over the noise of his engine.

“Get the FUCK away from here!”

Patrick gunned the throttle, his front wheel lifting off the ground and lurched forward in a cloud of dust.

“I have no idea where I’m going," he thought.

Five ponies waited anxiously in the throne room. They were summoned to speak with the princess before their departure. Twilight had apparently teleported back to Ponyville, so they would be traveling back on their own.

“S’pose they found us out?” Applejack asked. “Twilight ain’t here, that can’t mean nothin’ good.”

“She said Spike asked her back to the library for something urgent,” Rarity sighed. “That can only mean one thing.”

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Rainbow Dash looked around the empty throne room.

Before long, the anxious ponies were greeted by Princess Celestia herself. However, Luna was missing.

All five bowed, and then regained their stance.

“Hey, Princess!” Pinkie Pie cheeped. “Where’s Princess Luna? Doesn’t she want to say goodbye?”

“Luna is a bit,” Celestia looked away for a moment. “Pre-occupied at the moment. And I’d like to speak to you all alone.”

“Really, your highness?” Rarity said, a bit taken back. “Now, w-what about?”

“It is about Patrick, and everything you heard me say yesterday in our last meeting.”

Celestia turned to Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow Dash, I hope my guards didn’t hurt you, I apologize for their use of force.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash muttered. “I’m… Fine.” She tried to hide her anger, but it still stuck out like a sore hoof.

“Anyway, there is a matter I’d like to discuss with you,” Celestia’s voice suddenly became very dominating, echoing throughout the throne room.

“It’s my understanding that you assisted Patrick in escaping from the dungeon last night.”

All five ponies’ hearts skipped a beat. An awkward silence hung in the room for a few moments.

“Girls,” Celestia sighed. “I am not angry with you. But that was an act of treason against my kingdom, you of all my little ponies should know that.”

“Yeah, well-“ Rainbow Dash rose into the air. They were found out, so there was nothing to lose now. She was finally going to speak what was on her mind.

“You killed his friends and destroyed his life!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “We weren’t just going to sit there and let him rot in a dungeon because you drove him crazy!”

“Do all of you really feel this way?” Celestia responded.

Rainbow Dash was the first to nod, followed by Rarity, then Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and very subtely, Fluttershy.

“…I see.”

Celestia gestured for her subjects to follow her.

“Come, I wish to show you all something.”

Apprehensively, they followed Celestia to a balcony window. Looming off in the distance was a still unsettled mushroom cloud as the result of a nuclear detonation in Manehatten.

“…What… I-in Equestria… Is that?” Fluttershy gasped. It took a lot for Fluttershy to speak up, and this was definitely enough to make her do so.

“It is the Nightmare,” Celestia replied. “I’m afraid exactly what I’ve been trying to prevent by summoning Patrick to Equestria is coming to pass. The Nightmare has somehow acquired human weaponry, and has begun its attack on Equestria.”

“Nah… Please, tell me that’s not-“ Applejack stumbled through panicked. “Is that Manehattan?”

Celestia nodded.

“No!” Applejack protested, running towards the edge of the railing. “Mah’ Aunt and Uncle Orange live there! Did anypony survive? Please, tell me they’re alright!”

“Girls, please, calm down, all of you,” Celestia cooed. “This was indeed the result of the Nightmare. Reports are hazy; there were survivors, but not many. Manehattan has been lost. But this weapon’s destruction is not limited to the initial blast.

It spreads a poison through the air, that lingers for untold amounts of time.”

The girls chattered to one another in fear, staring at the mushroom cloud off in the sky. The smoke had blocked out the sun, and cast a dreary, rotten olive-green hue across the sky.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, as Twilight instantly appeared next to Celestia’s side. She took a moment to catch her breath. Doing so many teleportations in one spell exhausted her.

“Princess!” Twilight hastily bowed and regained posture.

“Twilight Sparkle, what is going on? What news do you have of Patrick?”

“He’s gone! He got on that ‘motorcycle’ and took off, I have no idea where he went! Now tell me, what is going on here? What was that gigantic explosion?”

Celestia filled her in on the situation at hand, and Twilight’s eyes widened.

“Now you all see why I made Patrick suffer so. I regret doing it, I still do. But by doing so, he and his friends share the strongest bond of friendship that Humankind, and Ponykind, have ever known. With the magic of their friendship, the Nightmare can be destroyed! But Patrick is the key, we need him, and after everything I’ve done to him,” Celestia broke eye contact.

“He is not going to help us.”

“Princess, there must be something we can do!” Twilight protested. “We used the elements before, we’ll do it again! Right, girls?”

They all nodded in unison.

“I appreciate the offer,” Celestia replied. “But you all do not stand a chance against the pure evil that is the Nightmare. Not this time. You would be destroyed, and I already have quite enough on my conscience.”

“At least let us try!” Rarity begged. “If Patrick has decided not to assist us, then what do we have to lose? What if we are strong enough?”

“I can assure you all, I have already considered that,” Celestia replied. “But the Elements cannot work where the Nightmare resides, the Nightmare has prevented the use of magic where these bombs are detonated. And as I said, I am not having your deaths on my conscience at this point, because I just acquired tens of thousands of them now. I have prepared a chariot for you all back to Ponyville.”

Celestia echoed the words of a defeated human leader, holding back tears.

“I urge you all to spend your last moments with friends and family. Ponyville and Canterlot will come under attack soon, and we have no defense against the Nightmare. I will protect the Elements of Harmony while we are under siege. Until the last pony is standing.”

“Princess, we cain’t jus’ give up!” Applejack raised defiantly. “There’s got to be something we can do!”

The princess paused, contemplating if she should really recruit the assistance of the Elements, which had betrayed her so dearly.

“As long as Patrick is still alive, there is a chance.”

“A chance for what?” Twilight asked.

“A chance to stop the end of the world as we know it.”

“I do believe we’ve found the solution, then,” Rarity nodded. “We have to find Patrick!”

“I am leaving this up to you then, my little ponies,” Celestia shot a worried glance off towards the horizon. She recounted her conversation with a human that had perished thousands of years ago. A human; whose death she had a hand in causing.

“Find Patrick. Convince him to stop this senseless bloodshed. But most importantly, I’d like you to tell him something.”

“And what would that be?” Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow.

Celestia continued to keep her gaze off towards the mushroom cloud looming over what used to be Manehattan.

“Jose says: It’s going to be a good day. Tell him that.”

Nurse Redheart’s clinic was a crowded mess of anguishing patients. Ponyville, being the closest town to Manehattan, was congested with refugees from the destroyed mega-city by the thousands.

Nurse Redheart and Nurse Tenderheart were the only two nurses on staff, which was fine for their small, sparsely populated village of ponyville.

But when injured ponies suffering from all shades of burns, blindness, vomiting, wounds, blunt-force trauma, and “Radiation Sickness,” a new disease that was spread by the fallout of the Nightmare’s attack, was infecting ponies like mad. The disease had even spread to Ponyville through the air, even when Manehattan was miles away.

Unicorn and pegasi survivors alike were forced to hoof the journey from Manehattan to Ponyville. The Nightmare’s attack affected the air pressure, and prevented pegasi from catching air under their wings. An anti-magic residue lingered in the vicinity of the city, and on ponies themselves; preventing unicorns from teleporting away, or healing each other. Many did not make it, and perished of their injuries along the way. It was impossible to control the flow of refugee ponies from coming into the small village, spreading the particles of radioactive anti-magic from pony to pony.

Radiation was peculiar, it was not something Nurse Redheart had ever encountered before. A Royal Envoy had informed her that this “Radiation” was not a biological disease. It was decaying particles of matter, generated by the Nightmare’s bomb, and in the right amounts, fatal to all known living creatures.

“Hold still, dear,” Nurse Redheart wrapped a series of bandages around a badly burned filly, who had subsequently been blinded.

She worked around the clock to tend to the patients lining up outside her clinic; she had been treating patients for the last 16 hours straight. Ponyville had become so overcrowded, that refugees had begun taking up residence on the street until they could figure something else out.

The filly twitched as Nurse Redheart sprayed an antiseptic on his wounds, and then she finished wrapping him.

“I’ve done all I can,” Nurse Redheart sighed, feeling dizzy from exhaustion.

“Thank you,” a blue unicorn mare bowed her head respectfully, leading her blind foal away.

“Next patient, please!” Nurse Redheart yawned.

“This way, Mosely,” a formal-accented earthpony mare, presumably a wife, lead an orange stallion with a green mane to Nurse Redheart’s workstation. He had been blinded and burned across his back, like most ponies she saw.

“Now, what requires attention, here?” Nurse Redheart asked.

“I-“ Mosely Orange said. “I’ve been blinded by that flash of light.”

“I’m very sorry,” Nurse Redheart explained for the hundredth time that day. “But there is not anything I can do about blindness, and the unicorn healers here have been unable to bypass this spell that lingers on the refugees from Manehattan.”

“Please!” Mosely opened his eyes to show her. They had been glazed over, and did not respond to any stimuli.

“There’s got to be something you can do!”

“I’m afraid it surpasses my medical ability. We are awaiting aid from Canterlot, they will be sending highly-trained unicorn doctors and healers to assist us. For now, all I am able to treat is your burns.”

Mosely Orange sighed. “Very well.”

She treated the worst of his burns, dabbing them with disinfectants and wrapping them thoroughly.

A zebra sporting a tribal sun as her cutie mark pushed through the crowded infirmary, tugging a wagon with an assortment of glass jars.

“Nurse, Redheart, I have arrived,” Zecora spat the handle of the wagon out of her mouth. “For how long it took to make this medicine, I apologize.”

“Oh, thank you, Zecora!” Nurse Redheart let out a sigh of relief. She and Nurse Tenderheart, being the only two nurses on staff, had their hooves quite full. It was nice that at least somepony, or zebra, was aiding them.

“Since that evil cloud appeared in the sky,” the zebra stated. “I imagined you would need this medicine in a greater supply.”

Zecora turned towards the door, lifting the hood up on her cloak.

“Zecora, where are you going?” Nurse Redheart inquired. “I mean, what are you going to do, now?”

The Zebra looked around suspiciously, making sure nopony was paying them any mind before speaking.

“I was visited by the human we both know so well,” Zecora whispered. “I have seen him, but nopony should you tell.”

“Patrick?” Nurse Redheart looked over her shoulder. “He’s wanted by the Royal Guard right now. You know where he is?”

“At Celestia’s expense, Patrick has suffered a terrible twist of fate,” Zecora answered. “And because of that, his heart is filled with hate.”

“Please, Zecora,” Nurse Redheart rolled her eyes. “Just please speak to me clearly. What do you mean?”

“I must go, before the Nightmare decides to again rear its ugly head,” Zecora made her way to the door. “But do not speak to anypony about what I just said.”

Nurse Redheart, dumbfounded, watched her leave. What was all that about?

Several hours later, another envoy arrived from Canterlot. And this time, with additional medical staff.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Nurse Redheart shouted. “I thought they’d never send help!”

“Ms Redheart,” the envoy, Lieutenant Black Sword, approached her as the medical staff he teleported with him got to work. “A word?”

“I have many patients to tend to, can this wait until later?”

“It will only be for a moment, and it could greatly help our investigation of this incident. Please, come speak with me in private.”

Nurse Redheart glanced over at the many ponies she still had yet to treat, overflowing the waiting room. Perhaps taking a break for a few minutes would help her get through the night.

“Of course, lead the way.”

Lieutenant Black Sword led her outside, behind the Nurse’s office and out a back door. The last time Nurse Redheart had been in this spot, it was to observe a strange, two-wheeled carriage brought to Equestria by the only human patient she had ever treated.

“Ms. Redheart, I want to be frank,” Black Sword rattled his armor.

“Are you aware that Celestia herself was nearly assassinated by a creature known as a ‘human’?”

“Yes,” Nurse Redheart replied. She had mixed feelings about the entire ordeal. She had gotten to know Patrick very personally after treating his injures for the time he spent in Ponyville. But Celestia was her Princess, and she was loyal to her first over a stranger that was zapped into Equestria two weeks ago.

Although, Patrick was definitely not evil, he would not try to kill somepony for no reason. There had to be another side to the story, and she wasn’t willing to base her judgment off of only one side.

“There are rumors circulating that he was treated at this very facility, by you, after his discovery by the Elements. Is that true?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, I did. But what does all this have to do with Patrick? I thought the Nightmare was responsible for this attack, and he is being dealt with by the proper authorities?”

“The Nightmare is indeed responsible for the attack. That much is sure. But your friend ‘Patrick’ escaped from the dungeons, and was spotted in town earlier today, after beating up a stallion that tried to claim his bounty, who just so happens to also be my nephew.”

“Rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Nurse Redheart thought.

“Ah, yes, Grayburn,” Nurse Redheart stifled a laugh. “I remember treating him, he was beaten quite badly, if I do say so myself.”

The lieutenant scowled, clearing his throat.

“He was last seen heading into the Everfree forest. Did you have any interaction with him whatsoever during his visit here?”

“I did not, sir,” the nurse responded. “And are you trying to accuse me of committing treason against the Royal sisters?”

“I did not say that,” Black Sword replied. “All I am saying is that it was reported you became close to him, interacting with him on a day to day basis. Anyone found guilty of harboring this fugitive can expect to be charged with treason, yes.”

“…Good bye, lieutenant,” Nurse Redheart scoffed. “I have many patients to attend to. Perhaps you should focus the Royal Guards’ attention on the catastrophe at hand, rather than an escaped inmate.”

She left the displeased unicorn guard in a huff, returning to give the medical staff that had just arrived their orders.

The entire time she continued to treat the wounded and sick that night, Nurse Redheart couldn’t help but wonder…

In a time of such crisis, why would the Royal Guard be so concerned about finding a single fugitive?

Canterlot was a disarray of scurrying soldiers, senators, and other officials, responding to the Nightmare’s attack on Manehattan. The royal city’s esteemed residents had shut themselves indoors, fearing that they would be next for the Nightmare’s long overdue revenge. Not a soul occupied the streets, minus the rounds of the Royal Guard.

In a tower of Canterlot Castle, a certain alicorn was struggling against a powerful spell confining her to her chambers. She attacked it, crying out in the physical and mental burden of using such magic.

“UGH! CELESTIA!” Luna groaned. “I will get out of here! I’m not the helpless, foalish child you think I am!”

She hurled spells at the magic blocking her from leaving her balcony window.

“Wait a moment,” Luna thought. “Maybe, she just blocked the doors and windows!”

With that, Luna levitated a heavy, wooden bureau into the air, and flung it at the wall. It created a large hole, kicking up dust from the drywall, concrete, and brick. The bureau was reduced to an unrecognizable pile of scrap wood and splinters.

“Ha!” Luna smirked. “I knew it would wor-“

As the dust settled, a wall of magic was visible through the hole in the wall. Celestia had cast the spell on the entire room, not just the doors. Celestia was known for being thorough.

Luna spent hours in front of the wall of magic in the doorway of her balcony, her horn glowing faintly. She studied it, carefully examining its properties. Brash, direct attacks were not going to work on this spell. Celestia severely underestimated her, Luna was more than capable of reversing this spell.

It would just take time, and Celestia knew that. She knew Luna would negate the spell eventually. At most, it would only disable Luna for three days. Luna was not known for patience and restraint, taking the time to examine the spell was something she would only result to out of desperation, and therefore, do a sloppy, hasty job of it.

But Celestia still saw Luna as her baby sister, who needed to be looked after, and did not give Luna enough credit for her abilities. She was not as strong as Celestia by any means, but definitely not one to be trifled with.

Almost twelve hours later, the moon was raised, and it wasn’t Luna who did it this time. That angered Luna even more, that was HER job. How dare Celestia do this all over again, and not even allow her to touch her beloved moon?

This ignited a new drive inside Luna’s spirit, making her look at the confining spell a different way.

Hours had passed that she sat there, so many that she lost count. Until finally, after taking the time to exercise patience and study Celestia’s confining spell, Luna made one last attempt with her own magic.

With a powerful blast of light, Luna shot a bolt of her own magic at the barrier separating her from the outside world. It shattered into a million pieces, dissipating instantly.

Luna smiled, standing to her hooves and stretching her wings. There was no reason to stick around, the moment it was discovered she was free, Celestia would be right behind her.

She took flight off the balcony with speed even Rainbow Dash gape at. To the south were the lights of Ponyville. To the west, were the embers of distant fires still raging in the burning city of Manehattan.

The night’s cool, refreshing air was replaced with a clunky, gaseous haze from the destroyed pony mega-city. She avoided flying too close, but she needed to see for herself what happened. Luna’s heart shrank after sensing the large amount of death in the air. Many, many ponies had died. The city lay in ruins. Luna could not help but feel partly responsible.

She told Patrick where the Artifact Room was, she helped Twilight’s friends to free Patrick, all out of guilt for what had been done to him. She was starting to wish she had just stuck with the plan, and did what Celestia said. None of this would have happened, everything would have just gone back to how it was supposed to be.

But she didn’t. And she had to suffer the consequences, and deal with the untold amount of lives lost on her conscience. Still, there had to be something she could do.

From the air, she could see dozens of refugees crowding the streets. It was cramped, noisy, and unsanitary. It tugged at her heart to see her subjects suffering so, but she was going to fix everything. Somehow. And without Celestia’s help. She couldn’t just land in the middle of town, it may startle the already-distressed ponies for her to suddenly appear uninvited. Plus, the last thing she wanted was for Celestia to hear word that she was in Ponyville.

Luna scanned the town below her, until finally seeing a familiar face. It was one of Celestia’s closest advisors, Lieutenant Black Sword. He appeared to be hiding behind the Ponyville Nurse’s station, speaking to the Nurse about something.

From her altitude, their conversation was inaudible. The Nurse shook her head, saying something with a discontented expression, and going back inside, leaving Black Sword by himself. Perfect.

Luna gracefully landed behind the Nurses’s office, startling Lieutenant Black Sword into a bow.

“Oh, your highness!” Black Sword stuttered. “I was not aware you were here.”

“At ease,” she spoke softly. Black sword rose from his hooves.

“Yes, well then,” Black Sword said. “How may I serve you, princess?”

“I am looking for the human that escaped from the dungeons, the same that attempted to assassinate my sister. Has there been any news of his capture?”

“Negative, your highness,” Black Sword frowned. “He disappeared without a trace from the Castle. All that is known is that he was spotted in Ponyville earlier today, which is why I am here conducting the investigation. He was last seen heading into the Everfree forest, but I am not sending my stallions into such a dangerous place to comb every nook and cranny of any sign of it, until we have a decent direction of his heading.”

“I understand,” Luna nodded. “I appreciate your hard work on the investigation, but I will be taking over from here.”

“Uh, taking over, princess?”

“Yes, taking over,” Luna said. “I will enter the Everfree Forest and attempt to locate him myself.”

“The forest?” Black Sword asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “By yourself, when the Nightmare is at large?”

“I am more than capable of looking after myself, lieutenant,” Luna said belittlingly. “But thank you for the concern.”

“As you wish, your highness,” Broad Sword replied. “But what are my orders, then?”

“Your orders?” Luna thought for a moment.

“… I hereby order you to remain in Ponyville and keep order, assisting the refugees and medical staff as you see fit, until further notice.”

“But, your highness-“

“I have given you your orders, and now I must be on my way,” Luna answered, beating her wings.

“And one more thing: Do not breathe a word of my appearance here to Celestia. That is a direct order.”

She rose into the air, leaving a bewildered guard-pony behind.

The Everfree Forest’s winding, dirt paths served as guides for centuries to wandering travelers; pony, griffon, and dragon alike; that braved the monster-infested forest. Who made them, nopony could say, but they stretched for hundreds of miles, that much was known.

A black motorcycle chugged along these paths, steering around tree roots, being pushed by its rider through mud, and walked through tall grass too difficult to traverse normally.

The Honda CBR is a popular, high-performance sport-bike, but was definitely not designed for off road use. Its rider pulled to a stop in a clearing surrounded by endless rows of pines.

The rider lit a cigarette, holding the burning cancer-stick in two fingers, while his eyes watched anxiously for predators when noticing a trail of large tracks in the Earth.

Patrick sat on his motorcycle, his helmet removed and neatly hung on one of his mirrors. The rough terrain had caused his already cracked windshield to split in two, and rattled around obnoxiously with each imperfection in the road. He kept the key in the ignition, ready to take off at the first sign of trouble.

He inhaled a bust of burning tobacco, exhaling it through his nostrils and mouth.

It had only been a day since Patrick had escaped to Ponyville and recovered his motorcycle. Walking around town while he was injured instead of riding, and using his gas sparingly, was definitely a smart move.

But he severely miscalculated his miles per gallon. When confronted with off-road stop-and-go travel, it was like stopping at a red light every ten feet. The fuel gauge dangled between “E” and the quarter tank mark. At this rate, he’d be out of gas by the end of the day. Still, after all the abuse this motorcycle and its 1000cc engine suffered, it was a miracle it had gotten him this far.

The digital odometer indicated he had traveled about fifty miles, but it wasn’t clear how far from Ponyville he was, or where he was in general. Patrick had been riding in circles, everything looked the same, and it had confused and disoriented the rider into just following the sun. As if being a wanted fugitive wasn’t bad enough, now he was fleeing radiation.

He had spent the night sleeping in a ditch, covering his motorcycle and himself with leaves to conceal himself from the common manticore or a passing Pegasus royal guard.

He finished his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, stomping it out under the heel of his shoe.

Unarmed. Lost. Wanted. Alone. All these words circulated through his thoughts.

“At least I’ve still got my baby,” Patrick patted the gas tank between affectionately. “You’ll never love me back, but at least I know you won’t ever betray me.”

The only thing that ever stuck by Patrick his entire life were his bikes, except the one confiscated by the Georgia State Patrol, but that was understandable. He grew emotionally attached to them, and took no shame in considering an inanimate object his best friend. If this biker didn’t have a bike, he wasn’t happy.

Patrick looked back on the past seventeen days. The crash, the party thrown in his honor, the fight with Grayburn, the spiritual journey he took with Rainbow Dash and Zecora, the death of his race, going to Canterlot, finding out the meaning of his life, a Nuclear weapon being detonated within miles of him, and now….

The end of the world. And there was nothing he was going to do stop it, as far as Equestria was concerned.

“I failed, Jose,” Patrick sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m letting my entire race down. I’m sorry I let this entire race of horses down, too. I just can’t do it, it’s all just too much.”

He hung his head in shame, reflecting on the guilt that he felt, and then thought of his next move.

Just keep going until the gas tank runs out, and then starve or get eaten by a monster.

“I honestly thought I was either going to be shot to death by towel-heads, lung cancer, or plowing into the back of a semi-truck at 160 miles per hour,” Patrick shrugged.

What a way to go.

Something began stirring in the brush surrounding the clearing. And it was big. Very, very big.

Patrick glanced around nervously, snapping to attention. Something was hunting him.

A towering beast with four long, snake-like necks and a large, orange dragon-like body, revealed itself, each of its heads hissing or growling.

Patrick shrank bank, frantically grabbing his handlebars and pressing the ignition.

The powerful engine roared to life as he bumped it into first gear, not even bothering to put on his helmet on. He moved out of the way just in time before one of the hydra’s gaping maws was able to chomp down on him. Riding into a monster-infested forest completely unarmed was now starting to seem like a bad idea.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Patrick muttered under his breath, racing down the path as fast as the dirt road would allow his street tires. He may have given up on life, but the thought of being eaten alive was still frightening.

He rounded a corner, the hydra close behind and snapping at him any time it came close enough. Patrick watched his mirrors, dodging out of the way each time a pair of jaws tried to nab him.

Finally, a straightaway! It was still dirt, but relatively smooth with very few obstacles. Patrick smiled; time to ride like his bike was intended for.

Patrick twisted the throttle aggressively. The exhaust let out a roar louder than Equestria had ever heard before, lurching forward with such force that Patrick was pushed backwards. He accelerated to eighty miles per hour, then ninety, then triple digits.

He left the hydra in his dust, but struggled to maintain control on the dirt path he was careening down. Patrick took a glance behind him, and saw that he was still being chased, but he had made a considerable amount of space between him and his pursuer.

Patrick turned back around, and his eyes widened. A rock sticking up out of the ground was directly in his path of travel. Steering around it would cause him to wipe out with this traction. He quickly glimpsed at his speedometer.

141 MPH

Now would be a good time to be wearing a helmet.

The front wheel collided with the rock, lifting his bike off the ground for a brief moment. Patrick stood up on the pegs while airborne to steady the bike, shifting his weight backwards.

The rear wheel was the first to make contact with the ground, then the front. His handlebars shook side to side violently, rocking him back and forth and knocking his helmet off the mirror it was perched on, disappearing behind him.

Patrick instinctively brought his right fingers forward, randy to clamp down on the front brake.

“NO!” Something in his head screamed. “RIDE IT OUT! RIDE IT OUT! RIDE IT OUT!”

Patrick fought his instinctive reactions and refrained from engaging either brake, closing the throttle. Gradually, as his speed decreased, so did the wobbling of his handle bars, and Patrick regained control.

The hydra still pursued him, running quite quickly for such a large, heavy creature. It ripped trees out of the ground, punching a hole in the tree line and plowing right through everything. Another break in the tree line was approaching, abruptly slowing Patrick to a halt.

A giant chasm shrouded in mist, the other side just barely visible, lay before him and stopped his advance. On top of a hill, Patrick could see the silhouette of a large, medieval castle. The only way across was a long, rickety old bridge. The wooden boards that served as the floor creaked as it gently swayed back and forth.

Behind him, the Hydra was only getting closer.

“This is a terrible idea.” Patrick angled his bike towards the beginning of the decrepit bridge, and slowly rolled onto it, the wood cracking under the pressure of his 500 pound speed machine and Patrick’s added weight.

He briskly moved along, when the bridge began to stretch, lowering very abruptly. The ropes that held the boards together couldn’t handle the pressure, and were starting to undo themselves.

“FUCK!” Patrick opened the throttle, but it only made things worse. The bridge was going to snap. He was going to plummet to his death into the mist below…

Unless, he abandoned his loyal Honda CBR1000, his only true friend in this dark world.

He could make it before the bridge snapped if he jumped off the motorcycle now. But then that would mean… No more motorcycle.

Patrick got this far. As much as it hurt, instinct wasn’t really going to let him die over a machine, no matter how much it meant to him.

The human stood on the gas tank and leapt from the moving motorcycle, desperately flinging himself through mid-air. The ropes snapped, and split the bridge in two. Patrick had just managed to grab the other side of the bridge, and used the boards as a ladder to pull himself up to the ledge.

He watched his motorcycle plummet, until the white mist filling the gorge swallowed it whole. Several seconds later, the most disgusting, heartbreaking sound Patrick would ever have the misfortune of hearing graced his ears.

BOOOM!!!

His baby, his most treasured possession, his motorcycle, his Honda CBR, impacted the bottom of the canyon. It exploded into a ball of fire, totaled, destroyed, and lost forever.

Patrick dropped to his knees, staring at the embers still burning at the bottom of the canyon visible through the mist. His heart went numb, no thought other than complete and utter loss going through his mind.

He was so focused on the bottom of the canyon, he didn’t even care to look up at the hydra he was fleeing from, growling at him in defeat from the other side of the canyon before turning around and leaving.

“No...” Patrick felt his eyes welling up, and let the tears fall freely. He could handle keeping his eyes dry after getting thrown into the future, after finding out his entire race was dead, that his entire life was a lie, getting his gun taken from him, being beaten by authorities, and becoming a wanted fugitive.

But not the loss of his beloved motorcycle. That crossed the line. After everything that happened, he still had the will to go on somehow. To still fight, to still run, as long as he had his bike by his side.

But that was a luxury Patrick could no longer have.

Hours passed, and he simply remained there, staring in disbelief at the small flame still burning at the bottom of the chasm.

“Not cool,” Patrick sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve.

Patrick continued to kneel there until the flame went out, murmuring incoherently to himself.

“My bike… My fucking bike, man…”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

“I don’t know how much longer he can keep this up.”

“He’s going to crack, soon.”

“He’s already cracked. I don’t blame him, but nothing’s getting through to him, not even us. Humanity is done, and now this race is done. We tried, but thousands of years dicking around in the afterlife failed.”

“What a surprise.”

“He’s alive, but he lost the bike. It’s going to be a miracle if we can keep him from committing suicide.”

“Everyone’s going to be so disappointed. I’m kind of nervous of what’s going to happen to him once he gets here.”

“Shut up, Spencer. And you guys need to have a little bit of faith, this is Patrick we’re talking about. He’d take a bullet for any of you, and you know that.”

“…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. We’ve still got a job to do. I can’t reach him unless his life is in danger, or if he allows me into his mind, but I’m waiting for that opportunity. I just don’t know when the next one will be.”

“What’s it like in there?”

“It’s a scary place to be right now. He’s caught up in emotions of revenge, rage, sadness, and heartbreak. He’s hurting a lot, I’m trying to help him through this the best I can without telling him anything.”

“Hey, Jose?”

“Yeah?”

“If Patrick does end up helping them, and the timeline’s fixed- what’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get back?”

“Pick up where I left off, I suppose.”

“That’s it?”

“-Oh, and I’m getting a motorcycle. Patrick’s made it look way too fun for me not to own one this go-around.”

“You’re going to kill yourself.”

“Probably, but at least I know what lies after death.”

Twilight and her friends had been in the Everfree forest since the early morning. Reluctantly entrusted with the task of finding the only being in the universe that could save them from the apocalyptic threat of the Nightmare, even Pinkie Pie had taken on a more serious attitude.

“We went to Zecora’s a few days ago,” Rainbow Dash explained. “I’ll bet you anything that’s the first place he went.”

She led the way to Zecora’s hut, and arrived just as the Zebra was tying a tarp over an overpacked wagon.

“Zecora!” Twilight shouted.

The zebra looked up from her current task, turning around to acknowledge the ponies.

“Zecora, are you going somewhere?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“I am indeed, Rainbow Dash,” Zecora said. “I am headed back to my native land of Zebrica, before this land is turned to ash.”

“Wait, really?” Pinkie Pie chirped. “You’re walking alllll the way back to Zebrica?”

Zecora nodded.

“I wish you all the best,” Zecora said. “But it is time to begin my quest.”

“Wait!” Twilight cried. “Just one thing!”

Zecora raised her eyebrows, as if to say “Go on.”

“We’re looking for Patrick. Have you… Well… Seen him?”

“Equestria is dependin’ on him,” Applejack said. “But this here forest is huge, we can’t find any trace of ‘im!”

Zecora stared at them with a blank expression for a few moments, and then pointed to the ground.

A subtle imprint a few inches wide, with imprints of swirling lines of treads, lead away from Zecora’s hut, and disappeared into the forest.

“If you look closely, you will see,” Zecora hooked herself up to her wagon and began to head down a separate path. “The way to find Patrick is quite easy.”

“His tracks!” Twilight gasped. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“Thanks, Zecora!” she called after the determined Zebra towing all of her personal belongings to her native, faraway land.

The rest of the day was a confusing game of trial and error. In some places, the tracks disappeared, or it was made apparent that Patrick had been riding in circles from not knowing the forest too well. He had pushed his motorcycle through a patch of tall grass, cutting off the trail.

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy took to the sky, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of Patrick’s trail while the unicorns and earth ponies continued their search from below.

Clouds had gathered overhead, and a gentle downpour began to pat down rain on the ponies.

"Ugh, stupid uncontrolled weather!" Rainbow Dash grumbled. "It's going to wash away his tracks before too long!"

But suddenly, Rainbow Dash picked out an unmistakable line in an intersecting trail ahead.

“I think I found something!” Rainbow Dash called from up in the sky. “Yep, it’s tire tracks! He was here!”

She landed next to the rest of the girls, showing them on hoof where she was pointing to. They entered a clearing, and it was clear that Patrick had been there. His footprints were still in the dirt path, a burned out cigarette short stomped flat just next to it. But there were other signs of activity. Including enormous tracks that dug into the path, following a straight line away from the clearing and towards the ruins of the old castle.

“Fluttershy, what are these tracks?” Twilight asked.

The yellow pegasus stepped closer to them to examine them, and looked back to Twilight.

“It was a hydra!” she yelped. “The way they’re dug into the ground, I’d say it was chasing him!"

The girls gasped simultaneously, staring off towards where the tracks led. Twilight broke into a run, leading her friends along the path Patrick’s tire track and the pursuing hydra’s tracks were embedded into.

She ran out of breath, and stopped in the middle of the path, the rest of the girls stampeding to a stop. She panted, wheezing in and out consistently.

“Maybe if y’all didn't spend so much time with yer’ head in a book, ya' could run faster,” Applejack jeered.

“Hey, look what I found!” Pinkie Pie jumped up and down towards the rest of her friends. A black helmet, visor down, was on her head, covering her whole face.

“Hey look at me, I’m a space pony!”

“Pinkie!” Twilight cried. “That’s his helmet! Quick, give that here!”

“Okey-dokey-lokey!” Pinkie nonchalantly removed the helmet and hoofed it to Twilight.

“This couldn’t have happened long ago,” Rarity stated. “Why would he leave this behind?”

Rarity may have blocked Patrick from locator spells, and more successfully than she believed Rarity was capable of without help, she had to admit. But the inside of his helmet was still moist with sweat. That would give her a very strong link to Patrick, if he was nearby.

Twilight’s horn glowed for a moment, levitating the helmet in the air.

“What’s she doin’?” Applejack shrugged.

“She’s trying a locator spell,” Fluttershy whispered.

“Got it!” Twilight smiled. “He’s not far. Come on, this way!”

Chapter 15

A solemn, sick haze of dust and soot had accumulated over Canterlot. The prevailing winds circulated the ash from the burning city of nearby Manehattan to its eastern neighbors, blocking out the sun for several hours at one point.

Rescue teams worked furiously to free ponies trapped underneath the rubble of their former city, but many oblivious of the harmful effects of radiation succumbed to it themselves. The inability to use magic within the affected areas only complicated relief efforts even further.

Equestria’s top scientists were hard at work, striving to come up with something; anything; to combat radiation and anti-magic. Crude haz-mat suits, based off of human designs that Celestia revealed to her top scholars, were being generated in bulk for rescue workers and civilians alike.

The pressure had evened out in Manehattan and its surrounding countryside, allowing pegasi to quickly travel to and fro, greatly helping the rescue efforts. But they often returned with radiation sickness; the worst cases spreading decaying particles to the very medical staff that tried to treat them.

Celestia had been eagerly awaiting any news from her student and her friends. Yesterday, she reluctantly allowed them to venture off to find the human who held all their lives in his hands, while the Nightmare is still at large. If she didn’t hear from them much longer, Celestia would fear the worst.

“Your highness!” a royal guard came galloping into Celestia’s throne room, interrupting her train of thought.

“At ease,” Celestia allowed him to rise and continue speaking with her.

“Your majesty, as your orders, we kept the south tower locked down and on high alert, should Princess Luna try to leave.”

“Yes?”

“Well,” the guard grinned nervously. “We checked her quarters this morning, and she is nowhere to be found. The confining spell you cast has been overcome.”

Celestia sighed.

“I suppose I did underestimate you, little sister.”

“Pardon me, princess?”

“Nothing, just thinking aloud. I’m afraid for my sister’s well being when she has run out into the world while the Nightmare has declared war on Equestria. If she is spotted, I command to be notified immediately.”

“-And do not do anything to threaten her. Luna may always have good intentions, but her actions aiding the human, as well as any future actions, could put Equestria’s existence in jeopardy.”

“Understood,” the guard nodded and headed for the exit.

“Wait!” Celestia cried.

Surprised at the informality of the gesture, the guard spun around.

“Yes, your highness?”

“Has there been any word from Twilight Sparkle?”

“Not as of yet. However, they were last seen heading into the Everfree forest yesterday morning. There has been no contact with any of the six Elements since then.”

“…Thank you, you are dismissed.”

The Everfree forest, unlike most of Equestria’s environments, had weather that acted on its own without Pegasi influence. The plants all grew on their own, and the wildlife was left to fend for themselves. A gentle downpour had started, stopping and starting again periodically. It covered every patch of grass, every dirt trail, and every moss-covered log in a thin layer of unscheduled, unorthodox rain.

“The tracks end here,” Rainbow Dash looked just before the two posts that the former rope bridge hung from. The bridge looked as though it had split in the middle, and Patrick’s tracks, as well as the hyrda’s tracks, indicated that he had likely been chased onto the bridge.

“Twilight,” Fluttershy murmured. “I thought you said you felt him nearby?”

“Um, I did,” Twilight frowned. “I mean, I know I did. It was really faint, but he was alive, and in this direction. I can’t locate him anymore.”

“Maybe it’s just because of way the Everfree Forest works,” Rarity suggested. “Perhaps there’s some sort of, hm-magical interference, or something to that degree?”

“Hey, I think I found something down here!” Rainbow Dash yelled from the bottom of the chasm.

The ponies still at the top of the cliff carefully inched towards the edge, gazing down. Rainbow Dash beat her wings powerfully, using the wind it created to blow away the mist.

Surrounded by a dark patch of scorched earth, was Patrick’s destroyed motorcycle.

Rarity gasped, looking down at the wreckage of what was Patrick’s pride and joy.

“You don’t think he… he-“ Applejack stammered.

“He ran himself off the cliff running from the hydra, I don’t know what else could have happened,” Twilight sighed.

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie trotted over to the edge of the cliff, wearing Patrick’s helmet. “What are all you-“

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the bottom of the canyon.

Pinkie Pie solemnly took off the helmet out of respect, and set it on the ground. She blubbered uncontrollably, while Fluttershy tried to comfort her.

“What a way ta’ go,” Applejack guiltily dug at the ground. “He really didn’t deserve that.”

“At least he died doing something he loved,” Rarity sniffed.

“Yeah, splattering against the bottom of a canyon is something I’d love,” Rainbow Dash retorted.

“Is there really nothing… Else-down there, Rainbow Dash?” Rarity asked.

“I didn’t see a body if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Twi, cain’t you use your locator spell ‘gain ta’ see if he’s still alive?”

Twilight called upon her magic, searching within the vicinity in the same manner as she did before.

“No,” Twilight sighed. “Nothing. And Rarity blocked the locator spell, which I’m pretty surprised you were able to pull off on your own.”

“Hmph,” Rarity scoffed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Maybe something was hungry and, well,” Pinkie Pie suggested. “You know. Nature took its course.”

“Ew,” Rarity grimaced. “That’s positively revolting.”

“Somethin’ gobbled up his remains after Twilight’s spell found him alive thirty minutes ago?” Applejack griped. “Aw, hay. We’re a half-hour late from savin’ Equestria!”

“You’ve gotta’ be kidding me,” Rainbow Dash lowered herself onto the ground. “Now we’re doomed.”

“How long before Ponyville gets blown up like Manehattan did?” Pinkie Pie frowned. “There’s going to be no more Sugar Cube Corner…”

“No more Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack added.

“No more library,” Twilight frowned.

“So what now, Twilight?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Do we just give up now that Patrick’s wasted?”

“Well, that was our only hope. So, yes,” Twilight nodded. “But you know, breaking out the one guy that was supposedly the only thing that could save Equestria probably wasn’t such a good idea.”

“We did what we did, we’re sorry we went behind your back,” Pinkie Pie asserted. “But friends don’t let friends rot in a dungeon after your princess kills his best friends.”

All five ponies looked at Twilight.

“What? So we’ve known Patrick for barely even two weeks. We don’t know anything about his species. He’d barely even talk about himself. What we do know about him is that he was a trained soldier to fight and kill other humans, he picks fights and nearly kills our Princess and my mentor.”

“Maybe because what your mentor did to him traumatized him so much, he knows nothing other than violence and conflict,” Rarity objected.

“I think you should take that back, Rarity,” Twilight growled.

“I’ll do nothing of the sort. It’s the truth, and you know it! You’re just in denial that Princess Celestia is a lying, murdering-“

Twilight’s horn glowed, and suddenly Rarity’s mouth was transformed into a zipper, subsequently being zipped shut.

The two unicorns faced off with one another, staring each other down angrily as rain continued to fall.

“Alright, alright!” Applejack stood between them to give the two distance. “Break it up. We’re all on the same side, here. Listen, let’s just go back to Canterlot and tell Princess Celestia what’s going on. Maybe she’ll be able ta’ help us find out if Patrick’s really-you know-or not, ya’ hear?”

“Fine,” Twilight said submissively, turning around and leading the way back to Ponyville.

“Oh, and Twi,” Applejack snorted. “Would ya’ kindly change Rarity’s face back?”

As the conversation ended and the coast was clear, an invisible blur that had been taking up space just above them all became visible.

Luna disabled her invisibility spell, taking a moment to catch her breath. It was a little exhausting maintaining an invisibility spell for so long, as well as scrambling Twilight’s locator spell at the same time. She had spent the past 24 hours following Twilight and her friends, until they’d lead her to Patrick.

Twilight was right; he was indeed close. Luna had no time to waste, she had to get to Patrick before the Nightmare did.

The Ancient Castle of the Royal Pony sisters was once where Celestia and Luna called their home. After the events of Nightmare Moon, and the fact that the Nightmare’s intentions were made clear to Equestria, she moved the Royal Capital out of the forest and to Canterlot, where she had more influence and dominion; not just over the ponies, but the elements and the environment itself.

However, these ruins rarely ever saw any visitors. An occasional archaeologist on an assignment, or a passing traveler, the pony embodiments of the Elements of Harmony defeating Nightmare Moon. And more recently, a human being.

Patrick had taken shelter from the rain in this structure. He was still lost with no direction, he was starving, monsters could be hunting him, he was unarmed, and had no transportation.

Patrick shivered, resting his head up against his bag and rubbing his hands together for warmth. He had taken up residence in a large chamber, which looked to be the old throne room of this castle. There were carved images of the Sun and Moon here and there, to remind Patrick he could never run forever. But he’d damn sure try.

“This place is like Georgia,” Patrick thought. “All four seasons in a week.”

His stomach growled, causing Patrick to once again to take a sip of water out of his canteen. Part of United States Army Basic training included wilderness survival. One of the things Patrick was taught was that drinking water helps to suppress hunger until food is made available.

But it was hard to find anything edible here. This forest was like a jungle, everything was out to kill him, including the foliage. He had tried a few berries earlier, but after they made him vomit for twenty minutes, he just decided to go hungry.

And going hungry was hard. Patrick’s body, so used to a diverse variety of cooked meats and high calorie meals, hadn’t exactly had proper fuel since he arrived in Equestria, living off of salads and fruit dishes.

He didn’t have the energy or the drive to fashion a spear out of a stick and hunt something. Leaving this castle may even cause him to ironically end up on the other end of the food chain.

“I guess starving to death unwillingly isn’t technically suicide,” Patrick thought. “I’ll still probably be due for an eternal can of whoop-ass, though.”

He had considered trying to meditate for the past few hours, to get in contact with the familiar voice that always left him feeling refreshed and comforted. But he felt too ashamed.

Now would be one of the best times to hear a friendly, familiar voice, if he could trust it. Everyone was keeping secrets from him. Everyone knew what was best for him, what he should do. Except Patrick, and no one would tell him why.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped drastically, making chills run down his spine. Patrick noticed that he could see his breathe in font of him. He felt a peculiar presence in the ruins. A wicked feeling of hopelessness and pure despair was wrenching its way into the back of Patrick’s mind, snapping him into paranoia.

His eyes darted around the throne room rapidly. Something else was here, he was sure of it. Patrick rose to his feet and stepped into the middle of the throne room, studying every nook and cranny of this crumbling citadel for any signs of life.

He turned his sweeping gaze to the ceiling, and spotted something out of the ordinary. A black cloud appeared to cling to the ceiling. It featured no face, but it felt as if he were making eye contact with it.

“What the hel-“

Suddenly, it rushed Patrick, knocking him to the ground and swooping back up to the air.

Quickly, Patrick rose back to his feet, spinning around looking for whatever just attacked him.

Out of nowhere, it rushed him again. But this time, the black cloud didn’t just push him over and run. It forced it’s way into Patrick’s head; through his mouth, his nostrils, and his ears.

“AGHHHHHH!!!”

Patrick screamed with the pure agony that this invading force was making him endure. He convulsed and flailed about voraciously while this black cloud invaded his mind, his thoughts, the inner workings of his soul.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

It felt as though someone had filled Patrick’s head with ice-water, or he contracted a permanent case of brain-freeze. His brain was numb with cold, he couldn’t think. He tried to recall any event in his life, to see if he still had control. But this pure cold that dominated everything he knew scrambled his thoughts.

Patrick rolled on the floor, gripping his head in agony. He punched himself in the face repeatedly, desperately trying anything to attack this entity. Until finally, he lost himself. Whatever had just forced itself inside his head now had complete control over not only his mind, but his nervous system.

“Greetings, human,” a voice spoke to Patrick mentally. “I am what they call... The Nightmare.”

“And what a fitting name that is, now get out of my head!”

“Certainly. But I’d like to do some looking around first. It’s not often I get to explore the mind of an extinct race, you know. A race that created a weapon that can destroy a city the size of Manehattan in the blink of an eye. I wonder what else you know?”

“I’m not a nuclear physicist, if that’s what you’re after!” Patrick growled. “I’m just a biker and a convicted felon, what else do you want from me?”

“Hm… Childhood memories. Bo-ring. Oh, this is interesting. Ooh, that belt had to hurt. Your father was quite abusive, wasn’t he?”

“Shut up!” Patrick responded mentally. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Just like you killed Celestia?”

Patrick went silent.

“That’s what I thought. Now, be a good boy and let me go through all your pathetic memories until I get what I need.”

“Or what?”

A surge of pain exploded in Patrick’s head, causing him to cry out and convulse again.

“Or that.”

Patrick sat still like an obedient dog, occasionally looking around the ancient throne room while the Nightmare writhed and wriggled its way through his most precious memories. Periodically, the Nightmare jeered comments about his past, trying to get a reaction out of him. Each time Patrick reacted hot-heatedly, the Nightmare zapped him with a bolt of mental and physical agony.

“Ooh, that was embarrassing. Looked like one of your more private moments, there.”

“Ouch, that’s got to sting emotionally, being your own mother and all.”

“Ha! I’m going to save this one for later. Oh, this is classic, being forced to march with no pants on!”

“Please,” Patrick begged, out of breathe. “Just leave me alone. I’m going to starve to death anyway. Please…”

The Nightmare ignored him, browsing his memories in order like a filing cabinet. It wanted to get everything it possibly could, so taking the time, when it had the chance, to explore each and every remembered event in this human’s life may come in handy for its future plans.

“No wonder your eyes glow red from my point of view,” the Nightmare teased him. “I wasn’t sure if you had ended up killing a pony. But you murdered two of your own species in cold blood, for your government’s name! Ha, what a pawn.”

“Oh my," the Nightmare belittled him. “I’m watching your closest friends burn alive, through your eyes as you saw them that day. This is quite tragic. And that’s a lot for me to say, when I’ve murdered millions and felt nothing at all. This really tugs at my heartstrings, Patrick. Well, if I had a heart.”

“I SWEAR, THE MOMENT I HAVE THE CHANCE, I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR FUCKING-“

The Nightmare unleashed another fury of mental pain to quiet Patrick down.

“Looks like I hit a nerve. Oops, no pun intended,” the Nightmare chuckled lightly.

Patrick let out a small groan.

“What, you don’t think my jokes are funny?”

“Please…” he clutched the back of his head.

“Quit your whining, I’ll be through in a moment.”

It flipped through memories rapidly, until finally it reached more recent events in Patrick’s life, and began to see a pattern.

“Oh, I see,” the Nightmare chuckled. “Oh, Celestia, that was clever. Bravo, I say. Bravo. Oh, this turn of events is just hilarious.”

Patrick lay on the ground defeated, struggling through every second of this psychological torture.
“Manipulating your past, shaping you and your friends into the ultimate incarnations of the Elements of Harmony, and ultimately killing them. I never would have guessed Celestia would commit outright murder in order to get rid of me. Although, she did imprison her own sister for a thousand years. She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.”

“What are you going on about now? Are you about finished?”

“-Causing Jose’s father to be threatened by drug cartels, making them move to your city, where you met him and the rest of your friends at school. Causing your father to disapprove of your interracial friendships, nurturing your rebellious and unrelenting spirit. Distracting you from removing your license plate while racing on public roads, giving you a criminal record. Getting rid of your parents, so that you would have nowhere else to go but to move in with your best friend, where he convinces you to join the Army together. Making you watch them die, so that the complete and utter love you have for them will be locked into your soul forever. Did I hit the nail on the head, Mr. Wilcox?”

Patrick said nothing, speechless at how accurately that the Nightmare had just summed up his entire life in a few sentences.

"Do you ever wonder why you have such an acute sense of memory? Why you suffered so much, but all you can remember are the 'good times'?"

"Just so that you’d be so attached to your friends, even see them as your brothers, and then Celestia was going to keep everything a secret from you until after you disposed of me. Oh, she’s been quite busy this past thousand years, I see. Very intricate and careful planning. Taking advantage of a species that killed themselves and trading blood for blood. She really does care that deeply about her subjects; if only she’d follow the very morals she taught them.”

Patrick balled his hands into fists. He tried not to give the Nightmare the satisfaction of keeping his temper, but it obviously knew that, since it was inside his mind. There was no way to get back at it somehow.

“Listen, I don’t care why you want to destroy all of Equestria, or whatever you’re doing. I don’t care why you have a vendetta against Celestia. I really just don’t.”

“You do realize,” the Nightmare began. “That if Celestia never did this to you, none of you and your friends would have met.”

“No!” Patrick refused to believe it. “That’s not true! We would have been friends, we would have found each other eventually.”

“I’m in your head, remember?” the Nightmare said as a matter-of-factly. “And it’s pretty hard to hide the fact that you’re in denial when I’m seeing your thoughts as they pop up.”

Patrick bowed his head in shame.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the Nightmare sighed. “You know I really wish you’d have been able to kill her, it would make things so much easier for me. Unfortunately, she can indeed stop your weapon’s bullets, if given the time.”

“Alright!” Patrick shouted. “You know everything about me. You violated the inner sanctity of my mind, sufficiently degraded my character every chance you got, and now you can see I’m not a threat to you. I even tried to kill your enemy! Can you please get out of my head now and just leave me alone?”

“Sorry,” the Nightmare replied. “But when you’re the only thing alive that can stop me, I’d rather not take any chances by allowing you to live.”

“WHAT?” Patrick cried.

“You’ve been a great help Patrick, thank you for all the useful information. But honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t committed suicide by now, even after all that Jose warned you about. But it’s too late; I’m recreating Equestria in my image. Good bye.”

Patrick shut his eyes tight, expecting his head to explode, for him to die in a split second, but nothing happened.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes, and then jumped in surprise.

A blue alicorn was standing before him, wrestling the black cloud that was the Nightmare out his mind. Luna’s horn shone brighter than he’d ever seen before, causing Patrick to hold a hand in front of his face.

“Ugh!” Luna grunted. “You think I don’t know how you work?”

She pulled harder, physically stepping back as a dark, black cloud began pouring out of Patrick’s mouth.

“You think I can’t banish you? I only spent a thousand years getting to know you, including your exploits and weaknesses!”

The Nightmare hissed, raising itself into the air.

“Fools!” it bellowed. “I have an unlimited supply of anti-magic and human weaponry! Do you really think you can stop me, now that I have the ultimate knowledge of Celestia’s plans? I am going to advance Equestria into a world without magic, and there is nothing you can do to stop me!”

Luna aimed her horn directly at the Nightmare and fired a bolt of dark magic, the glow it gave off resembling a black light. The Nightmare was quickly removed from existence right before Patrick's eyes.

Luna let out a sigh of relief and dropped to the ground, sitting on her haunches and bowing her head in fatigue.

Patrick, dumbstruck, simply stammered in disbelief.

“Did-did you just-“

“No,” Luna said through exhausted panting. “It’s only temporary, the banishment won’t last more than a few hours. I’m not powerful enough to make it any longer.”

“Oh,” Patrick stood up, and helped Luna to her hooves. “But, uh-Thanks, for saving me from that thing. But if you don’t mind me asking,” Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“How did you find me here?”

“Without Twilight’s friends’ knowledge, I blocked you out from most locator spells, specifically Celestia’s. Only I was able to find you once I came close enough to your location.”

“Uh, I don’t really understand, but okay,” Patrick replied. “By the way,” Patrick scratched the back o his head.

“Sorry about the whole, trying to kill your sister and screwing your world over, thing.”

“Actually,” Luna frowned. “That’s what I’m here about.”

“Oh,” Patrick put his hands in his pockets. “For revenge? Or to bring me back to the dungeon?”

“No,” Luna shook her head. “If I wanted revenge, I wouldn’t have helped you escape.”

“Oh, right.”

“Anyway,” Luna stated. “I care just as deeply for my subjects as Celestia does, even if I don’t show it. I can guarantee you that as soon as that banishment is broken, the Nightmare is going to attack another pony city. I know that you’re not capable of helping Equestria after everything that’s been done to you, but I believe I can change your mind, so as to prevent any more mass bloodshed.”

“And how would you do that, princess?”

Luna’s horn lit up once again, and Patrick’s Glock 23, still loaded, materialized and floated just in front of his face.

“I want you to kill my sister.”

“-But there was no body or anything, just the motorcycle,” Rainbow Dash explained.

“Yeah, it looked like he ran from the hydra, the bridge snapped, and maybe somethin’ hungry came along and uh,” Applejack tried to speak about Patrick’s demise respectfully. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Celestia took in what her most faithful subjects had just finished telling her. She sighed wearily, whispering to a guard next to her throne. He nodded, and proceeded to leave.

“Thank you, my little ponies, for trying, and I am glad none of you were hurt as a result of this little excursion,” Celestia said. “But even I am not able to locate Patrick, the spell has been powerfully blocked. He could be alive, or he could be dead. But we’ve run out of time. He has presumably died, along with any hope we had to combat the Nightmare.”

“So, what now?” Twilight asked.

“Now,” Celestia took a deep breath. “We begin evacuations. The Nightmare is going to destroy enough Equestrian cities and towns, and leave only enough to re-populate it. I’m afraid it is trying to create a world without magic, where it will be the only being able to posses the power to cast any spell in the entire world.”

“There is a chariot waiting for you all outside. I will give you some time to collect your things. Whether you decide to leave or stay is up to you. I am beginning the evacuation of Canterlot tomorrow morning.

“Princess!” a Pegasi courier burst through the doors, his saddlebags, full of messages and flying gear, bobbed back and forth with each galloping hoof.

“I come bearing grave news! The Nightmare has attacked the city of Fillydelphia in the same manner as Manehattan, but used four of its devices. Everything within a ten mile radius of the city has been leveled, not a single survivor has been found and the winds spread its poison rapidly!”

The throne room fell silent as the courier panted from spitting out such a mouthful.

“T-thank you, you are dismissed,” Celestia stuttered.

The courier stumbled to a bow and showed himself to the door.

“I think it would be best f-for you all t-to go now, before it’s too late,” Celestia exited through a separate door, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash headed out the main doorway of the throne room.

“Twi, you comin’?” Applejack asked. “We might as well try to say good bye to everypony before there ain’t no more ponies to say goodbye ta’.”

“In a minute, I’ll catch up.”

Applejack shrugged and followed the rest of her friends out the door.

Twilight caught up with the princess, seeing her stare out a window towards the direction of FIllydelphia.

It was much farther away than Manehattan, so there would be no giant mushroom cloud looming off in the sky from this distance, but Celestia could only imagine the events that took place in Manehattan two days ago, multiplied by four.

“Princess?” Twilight murmured gently. “Are you going to be alright?”

Celestia turned around. She didn’t shed a tear, but she was visibly upset.

“Yes, Twilight,” she led Twilight to an exit, leading into the castle courtyards.

“Come, there is something I wish to talk to you about before you leave.”

Celestia and Twilight strolled the castle gardens, neither speaking for several minutes. Finally, Celestia cleared her throat.

“Twilight, I know that everything I have done has gone against the very lessons I teach, and the very lessons about friendship that you report to me.”

“Princess,” Twilight said. “While it’s really hard for me to do this, I still stand by you and trust your judgment. You were only trying to save Equestria.”

“Thank you, Twilight,” Celestia smiled for a brief moment. “But it’s just that there’s a bit more to the Nightmare’s goals than simply taking over my kingdom.”

“Like what?”

“A thousand years ago, when the Nightmare possessed Luna, I banished them both to the moon. It pained me, and still does, but I had no choice. It was only going to be a matter of time before the Nightmare’s powers would surpass my own. And then, after three straight years of meditation and diving into the spirit world, I found Patrick, and his friends.”

“The ghosts of Patrick’s friends?”

Celestia nodded.

“They prefer the term ‘spirit’ or ‘soul,’ but yes. The spell took a thousand years, but I was able to scan through human history, looking for a fabled group of six that may hold the key to saving Equestria. I had already known about human kind, they were known before even Luna and I, but they slipped from a history lesson to a myth, then unknown to all but Luna and myself. While Luna was banished, I looked to the past. I saw their accomplishments, their triumphs, their failures, their violence, wars, genocides, and finally, their end.”

“So what does all that mean?”

I have a confession to make,” Celestia stopped dramatically. “After discovering just how advanced that mankind had become, how much their technology and science, their understanding of the universe, is something more than ponies could ever achieve. But it’s only because I hid the existence of the human race, the explanations for their ruins scattered all across the world. Most of our society has been based upon them, even our language. But I have deliberately prevented Equestria from progressing any further as a species.”

“Equestria is nearly the same as it was some one thousand years ago. This is why Luna and I had the famous falling out with the Nightmare. It wanted to focus on advancing knowledge and technology, no matter what the cost.”

“Why?” Twilight asked. “Why would you prevent ponies from getting as far as humans did?”

“To prevent us, as a race, from making the same mistakes that humans did. By turning their societies’ focus on money, greed, sin, and war, rather than the values we praise, they destroyed themselves. And I was not about to let that happen to my subjects.”

Twilight gaped, completely speechless.

“I know this is quite a lot to take in, but this is why I have ruled the way I have. Equestria as a whole has benefited from some of human knowledge gained from my experiences with the past, and recovered human artifacts. But some of the things they discovered are so dangerous, I don’t believe any human, or any pony, should even have the knowledge of them. One of those discoveries is the nuclear weaponry that destroyed Manehattan, and now Fillydelphia.”

Twilight leaned up against her, the towering white alicorn gently putting a wing over her protégé.

“I’m afraid that Equestria as we know it is coming to an end soon. But while we still have this time together, there is something I’ve always wanted to say to you, Twilight Sparkle.”

“And what would that be?”

“Ever since I’d first seen you as a filly, I knew that you were going to be something more than just the average unicorn. You reminded me so much of myself, it was as if I was looking at myself as a filly.”

Twilight smiled, continuing to listen to her mentor’s gentle speech.

“But as the years went by, and you became my star pupil, my personal student, I began to have some feelings I couldn’t quite understand for the longest time.”

Twilight looked at the Princess with a confused expression.

“Nothing romantic, if that’s what you’re thinking. But you mean more to me than just being my pupil, or my friend. I…”

“What do you want to say, Princess Celestia?”

“This is really hard for me to put into words, but…”

Celestia bit her lip, not being able to remember the last time she was so struck for words.

“I’ve always seen you almost as if you were- my daughter, so to speak. I know you have parents, but that’s just… How I’ve seen our relationship, especially as of recently.”

Twilight felt Celestia ease up, taking her wing off of her.

“You know,” Twilight answered. “I’ve always kind of seen you that way as well, but I never really admitted it to myself directly. You’ve always been that guiding force, possibly even… A second mother to me.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, before Celestia looked Twilight in the eyes and wrapped her wing around her again in a tender embrace.

“My dearest student, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia began. “I lov-“

click-click

BANG!!!

Twilight’s eyes went wide after hearing such a familiar, deafening blast. Celestia’s head jerked back, a mist of blood spraying into the air as Celestia’s body crumpled to the ground. The kind, gentle, all-loving, mother of Equestria’s sun lay dead on the grass, in a puddle of blood oozing out of a giant hole in the back of her skull.

Twilight could barely even contain herself. She wheezed in and out in pure shock, hyperventilating and feeling dizzy. She struggled not to lose her lunch, but felt it creeping ever so forcefully up her throat. Gulping it back down, she turned around to face the gunman.

Patrick held his weapon in one hand, a puff of white smoke lazily drifting out of the barrel. With his free hand, he retrieved and lit a cigarette.

He inhaled deeply, holding it for several seconds, and then exhaling all of the smoke in one triumphant breath.

“Alright,” Patrick smiled. "Now I’ll save the world.”

Chapter 16

“Crush humanity out of shape once more… And it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to it’s kind.” –Charles Dickens

Five ponies found themselves anxiously waiting for their unicorn friend in a parked chariot, ready to whisk them off to Ponyville for their final days of carelessly going about their lives.

“Jeez, what’s taking Twilight so long?” Rainbow Dash tapped her hoof impatiently.

“She’s saying goodbye to the princess, possibly even forever. Give her some time,” Rarity assured.

…BANG!!!...

The distinct crackle of gunfire rattled off in the distance.

“That wasn’t what I think it was, was it?” Rainbow Dash lept out the the chariot, her heard pointing towards the direction of the distant .40 discharge.

“It did sound an awful lot like-“ Applejack stopped. “-Oh no…”

“NO!” Twilight dashed to Celestia’s side. Rivers of tears began to flow down the young unicorn’s face, mixing with the blood flowing out of the gaping mortal wound that ended Celestia’s life.

“Princess! Don’t worry! I’ll- I’ll-“ she desperately tried healing spells, even the revival spell she had been trying to learn. But nothing was bringing life back into the slain alicorn, whose coat had once been the cleanest, whitest bright you’d ever seen. Instead, it was now a tainted crimson, red mixture. Her mane, once flowing with magic had reverted to plain, pink locks.

“AUGHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Twilight let out an ear-shattering cry, burying her face in her hooves after feeling so helpless. It was all her fault. She saved Patrick’s life. She brought him back to Ponyville. She housed, him and fed him. She told them Patrick was dead, so they’d let their guard down. It was her fault that Celestia was now dead.

It was as if the entire world stood still. One moment, somehow, there was still some reassuring feeling that everything was going to be alright. That no matter how bad things got, the world wasn’t really going to end. There were still reasons to live, to carry on. Because even though they were dying by the thousands everyday now, ponies could still look to Celestia for guidance.

Twilight Sparkle faded in and out of reality, still staring at the dead body of her mentor.

She blinked. She did it again, refusing to believe the corpse in front of her was the sun princess, her mentor; murdered in cold blood, and that she’d wake up any second from a bad dream.

She tried to scream; to scream at the top of her lungs, to try and cast a spell; ANY spell. But the complete and utter distress of being within inches of her mentor’s assassination was too much to bear. She lost control of herself and vomited, kneeling on the grass and making no attempt to look Patrick in the eye.

While Twilight continued dry-heaving, Patrick nonchalantly inhaled another drag and approached the body. Twilight inched backwards, whether it was in fear, shock, or disbelief, Twilight didn’t know. The only thing the small, purple unicorn could do was simply stare, jaw agape, tears flowing and unable to utter a single word. She stared up at Patrick as he raised his weapon to Celestia’s body again.

“This is for my friends!"

BANG!

“This is for my parents!”

BANG!

“This is for my life!”

BANG!

“This is for my race!”

BANG!

“AND THIS IS FOR MY FUCKING BIKE!”

BANG-BANG-BANG!!!

Patrick breathed heavily, feeling as if a giant burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He finally got his revenge. It was finally over.

And yet, it didn't change anything.

The human assassin took a knee, his smile reduced to a subtle curl of his lips, and swiftly faded, as if the sheer enjoyment he was supposed to contract from finally getting even was over now. He swept his hand across Celestia’s face, closing her eyes respectfully.

Twilight saw his lips move, but her ears rang from the close discharge of gunfire, making her unable to make out what Patrick was mumbling to himself.

He stood and turned to Twilight expectantly, awaiting her reaction.

“How… How could you?” Twilight choked out. “You’re a monster.”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “But she made me one.”

Patrick threw the cigarette he’d been smoking away.

Twilight said nothing, her face shifting from a reflection of grief and denial, to an angry scowl. She wanted to hurl an attack at Patrick, to telekinetically cave his head in. But maybe she wouldn’t have to.

The bustling and clanging of armor plating indicated the royal guard was responding. Patrick had the pleasure of meeting nearly all the Canterlot Castle guardponies at some point or another, and the distinct “bang!” of his weapon was heard the last time he tried to kill Celestia. But she wasn’t here to protect him from being killed by her own guard forces anymore.

There were hundreds of guards within the vicinity, and Patrick only had six rounds in the magazine currently loaded in his Glock 23, and only four in his spare. If the Royal Guard saw his crime, they’d kill him on the spot.

“There he his!” a Pegasi guard on overwatch swooped overhead “The human has assassinated the Princess! Attack! Attack!”

Dozens of pegasi guards began to swoop down from overhead, as the stampeding of hooves began to grow louder and closer in proximity.

This wide, open area of the Royal Gardens offered no places to hide, and no cover.

Dozens of earth pony, unicorn, and pegasi were descending on him, like rabid dogs on a defenseless squirrel.

Unless they’d all line up shoulder to shoulder and let him execute them all at once, ten .40 caliber rounds in two separate magazines would not be enough to take down an army. It was enough, however, for intimidation. Luna did not tell him the guard would respond this quickly. He needed something to buy him some time, and fast. A desperate idea found its way into Patrick’s head, and he acted.

Patrick lunged forward and grabbed the small, purple unicorn as the guards were merely twenty feet from him. Dozens of horns began to illuminate, ready to attack the human. He spun around, making the unicorn guards immediately hold their fire.

In one arm, he cradled a kicking and struggling unicorn mare. In the other, his weapon, pressed firmly up against the side of her head.

Twilight ceased her struggles, realizing it wouldn’t do her any good. As if the death of her mentor wasn’t enough, she was now Patrick’s hostage.

“You’ve got until the count of five to let her go, before we turn you into a pile of meat!” Lieutenant Black Sword barked.

“Surrender now and drop your weapon!”

Patrick defiantly stood his ground.

“One!”

Twilight’s ear was pressed right up against Patrick’s chest.

“Two!”

His beating heart was like a drum being struck furiously a mile a minute. He took a deep breath, and whispered in Twilight’s ears.

“If you want to save Equestria, teleport us both to the throne room, now.”

“Three!”

“And just how do you expect me to focus enough for a teleportation spell, after you just murdered Princess Celestia and desecrated her remains right in front of my eyes?!”

“Four!”

“Fine, don’t save Equestria. That’s all I’m saying.”

Twilight’s horn sparked, but she still failed to incite any spells.

“Five!”

As soon as the guard uttered that word, Patrick changed the focus of his handgun’s barrel from Twilight’s temple, to the guards in front of him.

BANG!

The Glock 23 fired a slug into Lieutenant Black Sword’s shoulder.

BANG-BANG-BANG

He non-lethally fired at any guards posing an immediate threat to him, trying to buy Twilight more time. Whether she’d decide to listen to him, or kill him, that was up to her.

It was then that Patrick’s sight was obstructed by a flash of light right in front of his face. A burst of colors overloaded his vision, and suddenly he felt weightless.

It was over in an instant. He and Twilight dropped into a disoriented pile of tangled limbs right in front of the throne.

Princess Luna sat at the top of it, looking as though she’d been expecting them.

“Princess Luna!” Twilight cried.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Luna stood and began to walk towards them. “I-“

She was interrupted by Twilight’s horn glowing furiously, her eyes filled with fiery rage for what she felt was justice. She turned directly at Patrick, surprising him.

“YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON WHY I SHOULDN’T TURN YOU INTO A CHAMBER POT RIGHT NOW!”

He drew his weapon, still loaded with one round, and aimed it directly at Twilight’s head. As the two had a standoff, Luna gripped them both in a magic hold, gently taking Patrick’s weapon out of his grip, and preventing Twilight from casting any spells.

“Break it up, you two,” Princess Luna cooed.

“WHAT?!” Twilight began to go absolutely ballistic. “How can you say that?! He just killed your sister, and you’re just going to stand by?”

“I know what Patrick has done, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna sighed. “But it was a necessary sacrifice to be able to see tomorrow.”

Twilight’s face went pale.

“You-“ Twilight grimaced with disgust. “You let Patrick kill your own sister?”

Luna nodded.

Twilight nearly dropped dead at this point.

“Princess!” Rainbow Dash burst through the large double doors of the throne room as the rest of her friends followed in suit.

“Patrick’s back! We heard the gunshot in the courtya-“ Rainbow Dash froze as Patrick stood right before her in the flesh.

“Patrick!” Rainbow Dash flew right in front of him. “So, you really are alive!”

“But does that mean, that thunder we just heard,” Rarity glanced at Patrick.

“Patrick, please tell me you didn’t.”

Suddenly, he felt himself full of shame, finding himself unable to answer the ponies that saved his life three weeks ago.

He didn’t think about this. He only wanted to hurt Celestia for all the heartbreak she had caused him. But now… How were the only ponies that ever showed him a single act of kindness going to react to hearing that he killed Celestia?

“Oh my Cele-“ Fluttershy stopped.

“The princess is really, like, really, really, for no-take backs… Gone?” Pinkie Pie blubbered.

“Everypony, calm down,” Luna addressed the six ponies. “I understand that this is one of the worst possible things that could have happened. But it was necessary. As much as it pains me to say it-“

Luna herself was using magic to mask the fact that she was going to burst into tears any second.

“An Equestria without Celestia is better than no Equestria at all.”

The six ponies just stared at Patrick with disgust.

“I don’t ever expect you all to understand why I did what I did,” Patrick collected himself, forcing himself to speak clearly.

“But after everything I’ve been through, I needed some closure. I’m willing to help you now.”

“Yes,” Luna nodded. “And the Nightmare will be freed soon, in retaliation of Patrick. It is time for you six, who share such a close bond of friendship, to wield the Elements of Harmony again.”

“Wait, now?” Pinkie Pie cocked her head to one side.

“Like, now, now?”

Luna nodded.

“Use the Elements again?” Twilight shook her head. “I thought Celestia said we weren’t powerful enough to defeat the pure Nightmare! I thought that was the whole point of Patrick and his friends, to do that for us!”

“It is,” Luna replied. “But we still have work to do. Come, we must retrieve the Elements. I will explain when we arrive at the Royal Vault. The Nightmare could attack at any given moment. And once it discovers that Celestia is now longer able to protect us, it’s going to do so in full force. We haven’t much time!”

A brisk march through the marble-floored castle hallways led them to the massive Royal Vault, only able to be opened by Celestia or Luna’s horn.

Luna inserted her horn into a gold-plated slot, disengaging the magic lock and retrieving an elegantly decorated chest.

She opened it and laid it before the six ponies responsible for saving Luna herself from the Nightmare’s evil clutches.

“Reclaim your element, and stand with me,” Luna ordered.

Twilight, Fluttershy, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash all reclaimed their respective elements, slipping the necklaces around their neck, while Twilight affixed her tiara on her head.

“Wait, those are the Elements of Harmony?” Patrick crossed his arms.

“Fucking jewelry?”

“Yes,” Twilight growled. “You have a problem with that?”

“…Am I going to have to wear the tiara?”

“The Elements reflect those who use them. In their neutral form, they exist as mere stones.”

“Fascinating. But the Nightmare could show up and blow us all up any minute now,” Patrick replied anxiously. “We’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Right, so uh,” Rainbow Dash scratched the back of her head. “What exactly are we doing?”

“We’re about to take a little trip through time,” Luna said. “Patrick, stand right-“

Luna positioned Patrick so that he was surrounded by the Elements, and then took a few steps back.

“Right there, perfect.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell me what’s going on here, either,” Patrick began to feel uneasy.

“Yeah, when you say we’re goin’ back in time,” Applejack added. “Where-When exactly are going ta’?”

“The only way to save Equestria is for Patrick and his friends to use the Elements of Harmony to stop the Nightmare,” Luna explained.

“But Patrick’s friends died in a war thousands of years ago,” Twilight argued.

All eyes were on Patrick now.

“Yes, they did. But, we’ve been doing some talking lately. Still though,” Patrick asked Luna. “Why are we going back in time?”

“We’re bringing your friends back from the dead.”

That hit Patrick like a freight train.

“What?!” Patrick gasped for breath. “Y-You can do that? For real?”

“Yes,” Luna calmly stated.

“That’s great! That’s absolutely great news!” Patrick laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me, though?”

“Because,” Luna answered. “We’re about to explore a very dark memory of yours. Specifically, the worst day of your life.”

Patrick thought for a moment, until he realized what she meant.

“No,” Patrick shook his head. “Please tell me you don’t mean-“

“Yes,” Luna’s voice became firm. “The ambush. And you are not backing out now.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time studying time traveling spells,” Twilight argued. “Celestia herself said going back in time took her a thousand years. So how can we just do it on the fly?”

“The difference is that Patrick is already right here, and I’ll know exactly where to go without spending hundreds of years meditating and searching for just the right human.”

Luna placed her horn on Patrick’s head, freezing him in place. He could feel her infiltrating his mind, just as the Nightmare did, but her presence was just a mere discomfort, and not an ice-cold, searing sensation of agony.

“But Patrick, ain’t your friends… ya’ know… dead?” Applejack asked.

“They’re still around,” Patrick shrugged.

“The spirit world is complicated to explain,” Luna sighed, still reaching into Patrick’s mind to find the correct memory.

“In order to revive your friends, Patrick, they’re going to need bodies. And I’m afraid I don’t have any human bodies to spare, so we have to go collect some.”

Patrick closed his eyes, regretting now that he killed Celestia. Zecora was right: In the end, he really never got any joy out of it. It didn’t change anything, everything she made happen to him still happened. He was still living in the past. And now, everyone in this crazy future hated him.

"And Twilight," Luna leaned in, whispering only so the unicorn could hear. "As regrettable as this is, under no circumstances should you harm Patrick. If he dies, then the Nightmare has won. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Twilight sniffled. She was riding an emotional roller coaster at the moment, and having to help the very being that killed her mentor wasn't helping anything.

The reality surrounding Patrick, Luna, and the Elements began to blur, distorting space-time itself. Everything was fading into a black void, devouring the world around them all until there was nothing but all-encompassing darkness and nothingness.

It was the same place Patrick went to when he was struck by lightning. Maybe there was something more to this black void, but to him, it was just nothingness. And in an instant, there was something; a distant bright light, like a single star in the night sky. It began approaching rapidly, until the blackness of the void was engulfed by hot white.

He felt the ground beneath his feet. And a high pitched whine temporarily deafened him. The lights became so bright, not even Patrick’s hands over his eyes could dim them. Finally, in a split second, it ended.
Patrick, Luna, and the Elements of Harmony opened their eyes, and took in their new surroundings.

“It can’t be…” Patrick gaped.

The sun beat down on a hot, scorching landscape of loose shrubbery clinging to life. Dirt, sand, and rock faces breached by a giant cliff were surrounded by a mountainous landscape of gently rolling hills just beyond the horizon. A deep trail of tire tracks a stone’s was stone’s throw away was the only sign of activity in this remote region of barren countryside. It was the Korangal Valley, one of the most dangerous areas of Afghanistan, and where Patrick spent the last several months of his military service. Today was the last day of his active combat duty.

Everypony and Patrick took a moment to recovering from blipping through space-time.

“Ugh,” Rainbow Dash rubbed her head. “Where in Equestria are we?”

“Um, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity stammered. “I don’t think we’re in Equestria anymore.”

“Princess Luna, just where are we?”

“Why don’t you ask Patrick?” Luna motioned to him, taking a few steps forward onto the dirt road, gazing at the tops of the Afghani canyons.

“Patrick?” Rarity broke his train of thought.

“Sorry,” Patrick murmured.

“This is where I fought my war. We’re in my time, when I was nineteen years old. This is the day that all my friends died…”

Right on cue, a hasty line of armored vehicles and light tanks scuttled across the dirt road, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

“Can they see us?” Patrick asked solemnly.

“No,” Luna shook her head. “We’re merely spectators, and cannot exist directly. We don’t belong here, and you don’t- anymore.”

Patrick stepped back off the dirt road and rejoined the others, waiting to watch his worst nightmare in third-person.

The hum and chatter of diesel engines cranked to a stop, where they sat motionless for some time.

Rarity looked at these heavily armored, four wheeled carriages. In front of them all was an obviously a mobile piece of artillery to protect the human convoy. But directly behind it, in the passenger window, clutching the same weapon that Patrick threw before Celestia just before his first attempted assassination, was Patrick himself.

“Look,” Rarity pointed a hoof for everypony to see. “Patrick, do you see that?”

“Yep” Patrick sighed. He looked younger, but not by much. His head was mostly obscured by window glare, as well as his helmet and sunglasses, but it was unmistakably a one and a half year younger Private First Class Patrick Wilcox.

“Are you ready, Patrick?” Luna asked. Everypony looking longingly to Patrick as he watched the M3A3 Bradley probe the ground for IED’s.

He remembered every detail about this day. What he had for breakfast. Which cheek he cut shaving that morning. The weird mole that the Afghani doctor had on his nose that treated him after the MEDEVAC airlifted him to Kabul.

Patrick sighed, ready to relive his worst nightmare as a spectator.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

A glob of fire rained down from the cliff face adjacent to the M3A3, striking it and making it burst into flames.

“Get out!” a voice screamed inside the HMMWV just behind the wreckage of the M3A3. “GO, GO, GO!”

All of the doors swung open, as the soldiers inside scrambled away for safety. Patrick was able to get one last good look at his friends’ faces, and himself, before a rocket propelled grenade tore into the Humvee yet again.

The younger, body-armor clad Patrick was thrown to the ground and struck by flying debris. He lifted himself off the ground, obliviously running mere feet from his future-self, and dove behind a pillar of a rocks.

Patrick dropped to his knees, trying to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were rooted to the five young men screaming in agony, clothing catching on fire and setting them all ablaze.

Twilight’s jaw dropped as she watched Patrick’s best friends, whom he maintained were killed by Celestia’s doing, burn alive.

She never believed him when he said it was this bad. She never believed Celestia was capable of causing such a gruesome streak of deaths. She glanced over to her friends, watching in absolute awe as Patrick’s comrades tried to throw sand on each other to snuff out the flames, to douse themselves with water from their canteens, but they cooked in their own skins. One by one, they collapsed to the ground.

Patrick shifted his gaze to himself firing his rifle and the crackling gunfire off to the north, while the rest of his convoy frantically piled out of flaming vehicles hailed by RPG fire.

“That’s enough,” Luna said. And then, everything stopped. It was as if someone had the remote control to the world, and just pushed the pause button. The soldiers froze in combat positions, the flames stopped dancing, the smoke stopped rising, and bullets stopped in mid-air.

“It’s time to finally end this Nightmare,” Luna led the elements to a burning HMMWV surrounded by five burning corpses, the fires frozen in time as well. Luna’s horn glowed a faint blue, and extinguished the flames that were fueled off these young men’s flesh.

“So,” Patrick looked into vacant eyes of Jose, clutching Ryan. “This is how Celestia manipulated my life.”

Luna encased them all in a bubble of magic, and reality flickered for a moment.

Lightning began to streak through the sky, until Patrick felt static electricity in his hair. It was incredibly bright, a familiar high pitched whine enveloped them all. But then it got dark. Very dark. And nothing happened.

In another instant, they were thrust back into the throne room. The electricity grounded itself, as bolts of energy bounced across the marble floors until they dissipated. A giant scorch mark had burned itself into the floor surrounding the ponies and human that were just thrust back into Equestria. But they had picked up some extra baggage.

“Is everypony alright?” Luna was the first to recover from such a disorienting ordeal.

“Ah think Ah’m gonna need a minute,” Applejack huffed.

“You’re fine,” Luna helped Twilight and Fluttershy to their hooves. “It’ll wear off soon, you’re just going to be a little dizzy. Patrick, where are you?”

Luna spun around until she could see him standing among the bodies of his closest friends: Jose, Louis, Spencer, Ryan, and Joe.

“Patrick,” Luna proceeded to put a hoof on his shoulder. “It’s time to bring them back. Are you truly certain that you are willing to do this?”

He took one last look at charred, gnarled faces of his friends after burning to death.

“I am.”

“So be it then,” Luna faced Twilight and her friends, forming a circle around the bodies of an extinct race laying on her throne room floor.”

Luna’s horn glowed a vibrant pink, and in the faintest corners of his hearing, Patrick could swear he started to hear the beating of a heart. It grew louder, and louder, until it was apparent that’s what it was: The sound of life.

It became very dark, the only source of illumination was Luna’s horn, and the glowing Elements of Harmony worn by the ponies who had used them before. A spiraling windstorm began to rip through the castle, tossing over statues and anything else not rooted to the ground.

The five human corpses levitated into the air; their wounds, burns, and mangled limbs all being restored. Patrick looked on longingly, anxious for something to happen.

Slowly, the bodies, still clad in desert-ACU body armor, helmets, and other assorted equipment on their vests, regenerated the flesh lost in battle. The blood that stained their clothes seeped back into their bodies, but the burns and tears their clothing suffered remained. Patrick held his breathe, and what he saw next made his chest grow cold.

Through all the noise of the wind and all the disorienting lights, their efforts were not in vain. Jose was the first to open his eyes. But something captured Patrick’s attention; it was that Jose’s eyes seemed to shine a bright white for a moment. He blinked, and his eyes were no longer glowing.

Jose drew in a deep breath, while the rest of his comrades began to awaken from death as well.

Ryan was next, his eyes darting open and flashing a bright pink. Joe slowly lifted his eyelids, his pupils flickering a rich purple before fading into his natural eye color. Spencer’s eyes rolled back in his head, and then stared forward, glowing a blue as radiant as the midday sky before dimming. Louis was the last to be revived. He awoke calmly, but then frantically flicked his eyes across the room. They glimmered a soft flare of orange, and then faded just as his comrades’ did before.

Their boots touched the ground, and the young soldiers that had been brought back from the face of death stood together; perfectly healthy in the burnt, torn combat fatigues that they died in.

The indoor windstorm calmed, and there was a gripping silence that overcame the throne room. On one side were five members of an extinct race that died out thousands of years ago; living, breathing, just as much as any healthy young adult would be.

On the other side, Patrick and the Elements of Harmony stood in disbelief as they stared back.

“Guys!” Patrick broke into a run.

“I can’t believe it, you’re alive!” Patrick cried.

Jose squeezed his hands open and shut for a moment, giving himself a cursory inspection. Most of his jacket had burned off, and the front of his body armor was torn open. The patches that carried his platoon’s symbol and a color-blind American flag had singed away, along with his entire left sleeve.

However, the patch symbolizing his rank and his name were still embroidered on his uniform. His dog tags, carrying Jose’s identity and medical information, hung from his neck. The tags themselves were blackened from the fire once eating away his flesh.

The IOTV tactical vest that covered him still held several damaged magazines for an M4A1. The utility flashlight on his belt had melted to a radio handset hanging next to it.

He looked up, to see Patrick walking towards him, his arms wide. Immediately, Jose was filled with rage.

“Good to see you, too,” he rasped.

Patrick reached forward to embrace Jose, but he pushed him backwards and let his fist collide directly with Patrick’s face. It made Patrick hit the floor hard.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE?” Jose’s voice thundered across the throne room, making Fluttershy cringe.

“Ow!” Patrick nursed a fresh bruise to his cheek. “What the hell was that? You’ve been dead! You’re all alive again, and you just come back and deck me? What did I do?!”

“Listen, Patrick, I love you like a brother, man,” Jose stood over him as the Elements and Luna looked on.

“But you just couldn’t control your anger! We sent you so many signs to tell you what to do! But you just had to avenge our death and get your so-called ‘closure’ by killing her!”

“What’s the big deal? Why are you so mad I killed Celestia?"

“Because!” Jose retorted. “You just fucked up any chance we had at saving the human race!”

The noisy, recently crowded streets of Ponyville did not help the throbbing of Nurse Redheart’s head. The nurse had spent so long inside the infirmary, tending to the endless waves of refugees burned, blinded, or suffering from radiation sickness, that she had to squint her eyes to adjust to the sunlight.

More aid had just recently arrived, which left them with a full, capable nursing staff, as well as experienced unicorn healers from all around Equestria. Nurse Tenderheart had finally convinced Redheart to take a day off from the madness of tending to the victims of Manehattan’s destruction, and now Fillydelphia’s.

And Ponyville, like the rest of Equestria, had begun a slow descent into anarchy. While most ponies stuck to their good-natured ways, robberies, looting, and other forms of crime began to skyrocket. Since the Royal Guard was too busy protecting areas with higher populations, the fallout from the burning cities of Fillydelphia and Manehattan spreading radiation sickness laced with anti-magic particles, there was not much to lose nowadays. It was everypony for themselves.

The streets in this small town, now crowded with shantytowns of refugees, proved that. It was so overcrowded, some had even sprouted up in the outskirts of the town. But the sudden overpopulation the humble village faced had literally starved it. Food, basic medical supplies, and other necessities were being consumed faster than they could be produced.

Nurse Redheart sighed wearily as a group of colts and fillies dashed across her path. The white earth pony spotted a group of orphaned fillies begging for scraps of food. It tugged at her heart strings to see her hometown transformed into such a depressing scene in only a few days.

But something else caught the Nurse’s eye. A large group of ponies had assembled in the middle of the town square. She walked closer to get a better view.

A swirling, dark cloud had appeared out of nowhere and hung in the air. But it wasn’t a raincloud, it was much too low. And it seemed to acknowledge everypony’s presence. Whatever it was, it was alive and aware of its surroundings.

Without warning, the black cloud ripped a hole in reality itself, snapping everypony to attention.

“It’s the Nightmare!” one pony in the crowd yelled.

“Run!”

The crowd scattered. Most of the onlooking ponies fled the scene, but some merely retreated to a safe distance to observe what the legendary Nightmare was doing in their town.

Fearful ponies looked on as a vast assortment of metal canisters, were neatly assembled before them. There was a flash of light, and they became encased in a sphere of white magic, crackling with energy.

What Royal Guard that was still stationed in Ponyville charged through the crowds, horns glowing and weapons drawn. The Nightmare effortlessly struck them all with bolts of black lightning, throwing them to the ground and disabling them.

“Citizens of Equestria!” The Nightmare boomed, its gaseous body swirling as it rose high into the air. “I give you this, the most powerful assembly of Nuclear Weaponry ever conceived! Its range will encompass all of Ponyville and Canterlot in its entirety!”

Colts and fillies cowered with their respective parents as the Nightmare’s threatening voice held their attentions. The Nightmare hovered just above the glowing orb containing more than a dozen advanced, metal canisters.

“The time has come for you to realize your full potential, to shake off the shackles of ignorance the Royal Sisters have instilled in you all! It is time to create a new Equestria unhindered by the old ways of the Monarchy! Together, we can discover the secrets of the universe! We can create technology to rival the legendary ancient human race, who created the very weapons that destroyed Fillydelphia and Manehattan in the blink of an eye!”

One of the guards the Nightmare struck struggled to his hooves, limping towards his sword. The Nightmare hit him with another bolt of dark magic, this time, ending his life. As much as every pony, especially Nurse Redheart, wanted to run to his side, the fear of the same thing happening to any one of them rooted everypony to the spot.

“Unless Celestia, Luna, and their human puppet surrender to me within 24 hours, by noon tomorrow, both Ponyville, Canterlot, and its surrounding areas will be annihilated! Any ponies that renounce their loyalty to the Royal Sisters and bow to me will be spared!”

“Now, hold on just a second!” Nurse Redheart shouted defiantly.

The black cloud froze, seemingly focusing on the white earth pony standing up to it.

“Yessss?” the Nightmare responded provocatively.

“You expect us to follow you like we follow Celestia and Luna, to worship you, when you strike down anyone who opposes you?” she gestured to the guard the Nightmare had just killed.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, the nurse was lifted high into the air, feeling as if somepony was choking her.

“Yes,” the Nightmare replied. “If you wish to be enlightened, you must follow me. Those who are not worthy will not survive the journey.”

Nurse Redheart struggled and kicked in mid-air, but she still couldn’t force any air into her lungs. Finally, the Nightmare released her, and she crumpled back on the ground.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask me, miss?” The Nightmare snarled.

“N-no,” Nurse Redheart coughed. “That will do.

“Very good,” the Nightmare rose into the air where everypony could see it.

The Nightmare leviated one of the fallen soldiers, a pegasus guard, into the air, shaking him awake.

“Fly to Canterlot and inform the royalty of my demands. Now, go,” the Nightmare flung the guard across the sky, the pegasus awkwardly flapped its wings in a daze, and collected himself. He took a look back in fear, and then shot off towards Canterlot.

“My offer still stands. Serve me, and you shall be spared. Twenty four hours, noon tomorrow.”

The Nightmare ripped another hole in existence and disappeared into it. Now that the threat of being stuck by the Nightmare was over, several ponies came to Nurse Redheart’s aid, helping her up.

“Will you be alright, Nurse?” a stallion asked with concern.

“Yes,” she managed to choke out. “Thank you.”

Her head turned toward the crackling, pulsating orb of magic encasing a cluster of colossal nuclear warheads.

“I wish I could say the same for us.”

June 12, 2042

9:30 PM

District of Columbia, United States

United States President Stephen Grant

A bouquet of red roses sat in a golden pitcher just in front of the windowsill of this iconic room. Flanked by two flags; one with broad stars and stripes. The other featured an eagle spreading its wings wide, clutching an olive branch in one talon, with thirteen arrows in the other.

An elderly man, his hair grayed from experience, spoke from a desk, the official seal of the United States President carved prominently into the side facing the camera.

"The United Nations has determined that constant nuclear warfare across North America, Europe, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia has increased the Earth’s natural radiation to dangerous levels. The nuclear contamination zone is expected to include every Sovereign State within 72 hours. The UN has informed me that in less than thirty days, Earth will no longer be able to sustain life."

“The United States has already begun preservation efforts of our remaining nuclear stockpile. I am calling out to all other nuclear nations to safely dispose of their nuclear materials, so that any future life that may survive the coming days, will not be hindered by its decay.”

“I hereby resign as Commander in Chief of the United States Armed Forces and incumbent President of the United States.”

“It has been an honor serving as your president for two terms,” the President sighed.

President Grant stared into the lens of one of the many news cameras recording him, feeling his face slouching with despair. According to the digital stopwatch just above his teleprompter, he needed to be strong for just six more seconds, and then it would cut to the emergency broadcast system.

The wise, aged leader cracked a salute to the millions of anguishing Americans watching as he disbanded the union.

“God bless America.”

After a few seconds of holding his salute, the camera crew disengaged the “on air” light.

President Grant let out a sigh of emotional fatigue. Delivering such terrible news to an audience that was expecting him to save them from the terrors of nuclear war was an incredibly exhausting feat.

The defense secretary held his hands behind his back, watching the Whitehouse news crew pack up the camera equipment.

Mr. Richman approached the President, staring at a picture frame on his desk, as the clear signs of grief began to show though.

“It’s what she would have wanted, sir,” Mr. Richman put a hand on the President’s shoulder.

“Linda just had to go to that fundraiser,” Grant ran a finger across the framed picture of his wife. “It just had to be in Los Angeles…”

“It’s what she would have wanted,” Allen licked his lips. “It’s not giving up to stop the senseless bloodshed when there’s not even a point anymore.

“It just boggles my mind, Allen,” Grant spoke solemnly. “That we, as a race, could come to this. I’m seventy-two years old now, Mister Richman. I’ve had a full life, and I’ve seen quite a few things.”

“Like what, sir?”

“I’ve seen men crying out to their mommas on the battlefield. I’ve seen people in our country become victims of our own judiciary system. I’ve seen regimes fall, and then even more bloodthirsty ones take their place. I’ve seen a humble, poor old man run for president and win; twice.”

“You’ve had the highest approval rating of any president in years, sir,” Mr. Richman chuckled.

“It’s because I stuck to my morals,” Grant shook his head. “But it was never enough. I never thought I’d see the end of the world. I-It’s just really unsettling, Allen, that we- not as Americans- but as humans, became this efficient, this powerful.”

“I don’t believe this is our extinction event, Mr. President,” Allen said optimistically. “There are fallout shelters. As long as some human beings somewhere are able to eat, breathe, and reproduce, we’ll eventually make a comeback.”

“You realize how ill-equipped these shelters are,” Grant raised. “Starvation, disease, mutiny, anything could happen. We can’t prevent deadly particles from circulating in the atmosphere and making our planet uninhabitable. This world’s just too big.”

“We’re not the only country on the face of the Earth, Mr. President. Regardless of what the UN Scientific Committee has determined, all I’m saying is that somewhere on this planet, there is a fallout shelter that will withstand this, and humanity will be repopulated.”

“Geneva is supposedly able to survive fifty people for a hundred years, but where exactly are they supposed to get their power grid from now? The air is toxic, and food couldn’t be grown normally. No power, no life support systems.”

“Well, what about the International Space Station? The Tiangong? Surely-”

“Our space program is what would have saved us, but we cut it because the public wanted less discovery, more financial security. Hell, we haven’t made any more progress putting humans in space than we did in 2010, we just have sharper images of distant galaxies. The astronauts we got up there now ain’t gonna’ last more than five years, and even if a baby’s born up there, it’s just going to be a miscarriage like all the others. We threw away our entire existence and murdered our potential descendants because we wouldn’t stop fighting over what little remained. Because we refused to get over our stupid greed, sit down and talk.”

“Mister President, I hate to interrupt,” Mr. Richman held his hand up to an earpiece subtly hanging on the side of his head. “But the radioactivity of the Whitehouse is rising. We need to get you to safety.”

“Please, call me Stephen,” Grant rose from his chair with a grunt, and waddled out the door.

“Uh-Mr. Pres-Stephen! Where are you going? The radiation outside is becoming too dangerous!”

“I have a villa just outside of D.C.,” Grant approached a coat rack and affixed an Alabama State University ball cap to his head.

He disrobed the jacket to his suit and loosened his tie, hanging them both on the coat rack. He unhooked a textile, US Air Force flight jacket with his name sewn to the front. It was thirty years ago that he last wore it; that he responded to an ambushed convoy in tribal Afghanistan. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

“All targets eliminated. Merry Christmas, boys, we’re peacin’ out.”

“Sir?” Allen snapped Grant out of his daze.

“Sorry,” Grant blinked, slipping his flight jacket on one arm at a time. He withdrew the keys to a vintage ’14 Camaro out of a side pocket.

“I’m going to go see if there’s still any power. Maybe drink a cold one and hit a few golf balls off my back porch ‘till I drop dead.”

Grant purposefully strode out of the oval office.

“There are some things that are perhaps too dangerous for anyone to have knowledge of, Allen. Sometimes, I believe we’d have been better off forsaking the pursuit of knowledge in the name of being fat, dumb, and happy."

Chapter 17

2 Years before Patrick's arrival

Equestria

Celestia sat in her bedchambers perched upon the same mat, in front of the same fireplace, just like she always had when performing this task that was now ritual to her.

“So many years of planning,” Celestia mumbled to herself as she gained focus.

“Only one more year until the Nightmare will break the banishment…”

It had taken 999 years to pinpoint everything exactly. To find them all. Over the past millennia, Celestia had viewed the entirety of human history, located the six humans that would be sufficient to hold the Elements of Harmony, and determined which events to manipulate in this six’s past to make them capable of doing so.

But there was one thing Celestia couldn’t do. She couldn’t, in good conscience, do this to these innocent boys without their knowledge of it.

And now, it was time to contact the spirits again.

Celestia slipped into a deep meditative trance, and lifted mortality from her spirit. She opened her mind, welcoming it.

It seemed to have gotten the message, and crossed the bridge from the spirit world to Celestia’s mortal consciousness.

“Hello, again,” the spirit spoke. “I assume you’ve finally finished.”

“Yes,” Celestia responded. “I am finally ready. I know exactly what to do.”

“Let me hear it, then.”

“It’s quite complicated. I don’t think I could explain it all in a brief amount time for you.”

“Just summarize it, then.”

Celestia gathered her thoughts.

“It involves befriending you to five other men your age, growing up with them, but making your life miserable in the process. It is to make you more dependent on these men, who you will see as more than friends. Your family will turn their back on you, you will become a victim of your government, and you will have to watch them die before I bring you here. You are going to have to lose everything to become the human elements. Only if I accomplish manipulating these events, and still allow humanity to end, will we be able to save both your race, and mine.”

“I had a feeling I wasn’t exactly going to like it,” the spirit seemed to sigh. “Am I at least going to be the same person?”

“No,” Celestia answered. “You will be good at heart, and retain your empathetic nature, but your personality will change as these events occur. You will have no knowledge of your former life before I manipulate it into what is needed.”

“How old will I be?”

“Twenty and twenty one.”

“And my family?”

“Your life as you know it will never have happened. You will not marry, nor will your daughter be born.”

The spirit did not respond for a few moments, but then returned to the discussion.

“I don’t care,” the spirit said firmly. “We are all in agreement. All billions and billions of us. I am willing to take that sacrifice, and so is she.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Celestia asked it. “I am prepared to cast the spell, and once I do, there is no going back.”

“As long as I still exist, I’ll do anything I can in the name of good. For humanity, and for your world.”

“So, do I have permission to ruin your life in the name of the greater good?”

“Do it.”

“As you wish, Patrick.”

“Because!” Jose said. “You just fucked up any chance we had at saving the human race!”

Patrick shrank back after such a blunt statement.

“Was hitting him really that necessary, Jose?” Ryan asked.

Ryan approached Patrick and helped him up.

“Also, hey Patrick.”

“Hey, Ryan,” Patrick groaned, shooting a glare over to Jose. “At least one of my best friends is happy to see me.”

“Sorry,” Jose let out a breath of air. “I know I was just going on about you not controlling you anger.”

“But, I needed that,” he cracked his knuckles.

“Apology… accepted?” Patrick rubbed the side of his head in confusion. “I’m just glad to see you guys.”

Jose turned to acknowledge the group of ponies across the room simply stood in disbelief.

Joe watched Louis open his hands over and over, jog in place, and cock his head side to side, various metals inside his vest clinking together.

“What are you doing?” Joe tapped Louis on the shoulder. “Stop spazzing out.”

“Sorry,” Louis smiled, stripping off the heavy, IOTV tactical vest and body armor that was still worn over his fatigues. He stretched, now able to move freely.

“It’s just that I’ve been dead for thousands of years, and I’m trying to remember what having a body feels like.”

“Hell yeah!” Spencer jumped into the air. “I can breathe! I can walk! Oh, it’s great to be alive! I think this calls for a celebration of sorts, gentlemen.”

Spencer began violently unbuckling the damaged, heavy combat gear worn around his body. Patrick helped him pull his IOTV over his head and tossed it aside.

“You haven’t changed a bit, man,” Patrick hooked an arm around Spencer’s neck. “If you hadn’t have died in Afghanistan, I swear, you would have OD’d or all the punishment you’ve forced your liver to put up with would have killed you.”

“Hey, I am not just some alcoholic junkie,” Spencer argued, beginning to speak with a raunchy, sophisticated accent. “I’ll have you know I’m just an energetic young scholar with a taste for sophisticated women and fine wine. Speaking of alcohol, what’s a guy got to do to get a beer in this place? It’s been so many years since I’ve had a drink that I’ve lost count.”

“Um, alcohol doesn’t exist here, bro,” Patrick smiled sheepishly.

Spencer stared at him in disbelief.

“WHAT?!” He threw his hands into the air. “Oh, this is just great! What’s the point of living, now?”

"You seriously didn't know that?"

“I’m kidding!” Spencer elbowed him in the ribs. “Anyfuckingways, I need to piss like a race horse after being dead that long. ‘Scuse me, sir.”

Spencer felt something brush up against him and turned around, when a bright flash of pink dominated his vision. Pinkie Pie stood mere inches from him, making him snap back in surprise.

“What the- Where did you come from?”

“Hi there, welcome to Equestria!” Pinkie Pie’s mouth ran a mile a minute. “I hope being dead hasn’t made you as much of a grumpy-face as Patrick. Anyway, my name’s Pinkie Pie! What’s yours?”

“Spencer,” he answered.

Pinkie Pie’s hoof shot forward while she beamed ear to ear, and Spencer happily shook it.

“Hey, guys, I think I just met someone as crazy as I am!”

“So what’s it like being dead? Did you see a bright light? Were there clouds everywhere? Ooh! Ooh! Did you meet princess Celestia? Was she sent there? Do humans and ponies go to the same place? Where do turtles go? What about alligators? I have a pet alligator named Gummy. He’s really-“
Spencer looked across the room to Patrick and Ryan, a look of despair in his eyes as he gestured frantically to the friendly pink welcoming party that was so eager to be his friend.

“Alright, sugar cube, don’t overwhelm ‘im,” Applejack silenced Pinkie, turning to Louis.
“Name’s Applejack, pleasure to meatcha’.”

“Louis. Pleasure’s mine, m’am,” he spoke in his slight southern accent, triggering a giant smile across Applejack’s face.

“Well how do ya’ like that,” Applejack took note of his southern accent. It wasn’t as defined as hers, but still audible in his voice. “Maybe we ar’n’t so diff’rent after all.”

Jose watched as a purple unicorn, looking as though she had been crying recently, walked towards him.

“Um, hello,” Twilight approached him. “Are you Jose?”

“Yes,” Jose replied. “I assume you must be Twilight Sparkle. Celestia has told me quite a lot about you.”

Twilight sniffled, forcing herself to clench her face to prevent her from exploding into a fountain of tears.

Jose glanced around, seeing that everyone and everypony was busy speaking to one another and paying them no mind. He knelt down to Twilight’s eye level to console her.

“I’m incredibly sorry that this happened, I know how much she meant to you. You may never understand why Patrick felt like he had to kill her, but he’s only human. And after finding out what she had to do to him to save the world, his mind went kind of, well…”

Jose wagged his finger in a circular motion on the side of his head, gesturing that Patrick had gone a little coo-coo for co-co puffs recently.

She let a tear fall from her face. A rough sleeve of combat fatigues rubbed up against her cheek, wiping it off.

“Hey, don’t be sad. It’s all going to be okay. You won’t really understand until after all this but,” Jose shrugged. “I promise, everything will be okay.”

Twilight remained silent, but cracked a small smile at Jose’s kind, tender words.

“Um, hi,” Fluttershy murmured. Ryan glanced down to see a shy, yellow pegasus pony trying her hardest to be social like everypony else.

“Hello,” he smiled. “So, you’re the element of kindness?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy blushed.

“That’s cool,” Ryan replied. “Me, too.”

“I didn’t know humans came in more than one color,” Rarity studied Joe, noting his significantly darker skin tone than his comrades.

Joe chuckled in his deep, booming voice. “We’re all different shades, shapes, and sizes. Name’s Joseph, call me Joe. Pleasure to meet you, miss…?”

“Rarity,” she shook his large, dominating hand.

“Charmed.”

“And what was it like back then? Did you guys have princesses, too? How did humans raise the sun and moon? Huh? Huh?” Pinkie Pie continued to batter Spencer with questions.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Spencer cupped his hands over his head. “I just got resurrected from the dead, give me a second to breathe!”

“See, that’s how I feel on a day-to-day basis interacting with you,” Louis teased.

“Oh, very funny,” Spencer rolled his eyes. “Hey, how’s about since now you have an ass, I kick your ass?”

“Boys will be boys,” Rarity whispered to Luna. She nodded in agreement.

Patrick looked around the room, watching as each of his friends mingled, chatting and talking with the ponies that bore the elements and brought them back from the afterlife. It was odd, that each of them had hit it off with one another so quickly. It left Patrick all by himself, but not for long.

“So,” Rainbow Dash floated in the air just next to Patrick’s eye level. She couldn’t help but feel as alienated as Patrick, since they were the only two left.

“They all seem to have found something in common.”

“Yep,” Patrick dug his hands in his pockets.

“Did you see how their eyes lit up when we brought them back to life?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash said. “Notice how they’re all hanging out with the pony wearing the element with the same color that their eyes lit up?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “What about me though? My eyes never lit up.”

“Zecora said your eyes were red,” Rainbow Dash stated. Patrick turned to reply, when he saw the color of the necklace she wore.

The necklace was the Element of Loyalty, a red gemstone shaped like a lightning bolt.

“I guess that makes you Loyalty,” Dash smiled.

“I guess so. But I’m still kind of on edge about what Jose said earlier.”

“Yeah,” she scratched the back of her head. “About you messing up your whole race somehow?”

If Patrick could just grab Jose’s attention for a moment, maybe he could finally find out the truth about all these crazy circumstances surrounding all the recent events. He was about to get his wish.

“I see each of you have already met your respective elements,” Luna caught the attention of every sapient being in the throne room. “Greetings, I am Princess Luna, current sole-leader of Equestria.”

“Yeah,” Jose crossed his arms. “We know who you are. And we know what you’ve done to your sister, too.”

“...I’m...sure," Luna guiltily bowed her head. "But, please, this must be a lot to take in, having been resurrected after such a long time. I hate to cut the introductions but we’re very short on time.”

“Oh, right,” Jose replied. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, and you still haven’t told me what was up with what you were saying earlier, before you punched me?” Patrick turned to Jose. “I thought the human race was already extinct, how did me killing Celestia fuck us over?”

Jose exchanged nervous glances with the other four humans in the room.

“You may want to sit down. All of you,” Jose gestured to the still-element clad ponies that had revived them.

Before Princess Luna led them into a meeting room adjacent to the throne, each of the revived human soldiers stripped off their heavy, damaged combat gear, leaving a huge pile of helmets, jackets, knee pads, various magazines, and other assorted field tools in front of the throne. Every human and pony sat down to comfortably listen to what Jose had to say.

“Alright,” Patrick crossed his arms in his chair. “Will you please finally just tell me what’s going on? No more secrets? I think I’ve earned that.”

“Fine,” Jose nodded. “It’s not like it’ll make a difference now, anyway.”

“And, uh,” Joe reached across the table and grabbed Patrick’s holstered Glock 23. “You probably shouldn’t have this handy after we tell you this. I’d like your brains to stay inside your head.”

Patrick glared across the table, when Ryan leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Patrick, please just chill.”

“Fine,” Patrick whispered back.

“Okay.” He clapped his hands. “Shoot.”

Jose took a deep breath, and struggled to find the best way to explain it.

“I can’t really think of any good way to say this, so I’ll just say it.”

Jose cleared his throat.

“The reason we had been keeping so much information from you, why Celestia lied to you and kept her actions a secret, is because you were not allowed to know.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Patrick brushed it off quickly. “But why was I not allowed to know? What does this have to do wi-“

“I’m getting to that, Patrick, just be quiet.”

“Man, I thought we were supposed to be the best BFF’s in the history of friendship. We’re not really setting a good example,” Patrick re-crossed his arms.

Jose scowled for a moment, and continued his explanation.

“Anyway,” Jose went on. “The only way you were going to be powerful enough to defeat the Nightmare was if you decided to help Equestria out of the kindness of your heart. Celestia hid that from you because you’re still good by nature, Pat. You would have helped them without killing Celestia if you never knew she manipulated you life, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh,” Patrick looked to the floor. “Yes. I suppose I would have.”

“That’s good. That means you’re not evil, and that you do have a heart,” he looked Twilight in the eyes as he said this. Twilight understood that question was meant to try to give her some consolement.

Jose then directed his attention to Luna.

“Now, we’ve been watching everything go down since we died. Your sister had discovered quite a bit about the bridge between the spirit world, time, and space. She was even able to find us in the afterlife while she was still alive, which is no small feat, I might add. I could tell you where Equestria came from, and all about ‘those who came before,’ but like you said, Princess,” he said sarcastically. “We’re short of time.”

“Perhaps when this is all over, you can fill me in,” Luna retorted. “Please, tell Patrick what he needs to know, and we must prepare to bring the Nightmare down. Before it’s too late.”

“…If we can,” Jose added.

Luna shifted uncomfortably.

“If?”

“Er- we should be able to, Princess. But we’re getting a little a head of ourselves. Let me get back on track, here.”

“Celestia never spoke to us about her plan that involved Luna’s banishment, and our deaths. But she knew that we’d be watching. After being dead for so long, we finally caught up and saw what Celestia was planning to do. She was finally even able to reach us several days ago, too.”

“In the brief time between your revival and Celestia’s death, did you happen to speak to her in the afterlife?”

Jose bit his lip.

“No. And I already told Patrick, it doesn’t really work like that.”

“How then? How does death work? What defines the afterlife?”

Jose glanced at Patrick, who already knew the answer to that question.

“I couldn’t explain it to you if I tried. I may be mortal again, but I’m still not technically alive. I’m just a spirit inhabiting my repaired body, and I can be killed just as easily as any other mortal. Death is, in itself, still a mystery to even those that have died. It’s just something you have to experience for yourself.”

Luna opened her mouth to ask a question, but Joe shushed her.

“I don’t mean any disrespect,” Joe said. “But that’s all we can tell you about the afterlife, really. Just that it exists.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Jose nodded. “And here’s the part I’ve been dreading to explain for such a long time now.”

Jose paused dramatically.

“Alright, I’m just going to say it, since I’m not really good at sugarcoating anything.”

“Patrick, had you used the Elements of Harmony to save Equestria out of the kindness of your heart and let Celestia live, we would have been able to save this world, as well as give humanity a reboot. Celestia discovered a way to save humanity without preventing Equestria from existing, but we needed the Elements and Celestia’s assitance. But, you killed her, so… Yeah.”

The most overwhelming silence any human or pony in that room had ever experienced hung in the room.

Patrick stood from his chair.

“What?”

“I really hope you feel bad about killing her,” Jose grumbled. “I know you didn’t know, but you just ruined any chance we had to revive our extinct race. Celestia may have manipulated us into the ultimate incarnation of the Elements of Harmony, but we can’t do it without her.”

“Is this true?” Patrick asked his friends.

Four human heads nodded simultaneously.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Patrick shook his head, staring to the floor.

“If you’d have told me that humankind would be saved if I just helped them, I would have done it!”

“Yeah, you would have done it, only IF humanity was saved,” Jose explained. “Not just because it was the right thing to do, and therefore, not out of the kindness of your heart. That’s how these Elements work, Patrick. You can’t fool them. If I’d have told you about humanity being saved, and then we charged off with the Elements to fight the Nightmare, then we’d have been about as effective as a foam noodle in a sword fight. The only way we were going to be powerful enough is if you did this for reasons pure of heart.”

Patrick hung his head in shame. Now he really felt terrible about himself.

“But saving humanity is not pure of heart?” Patrick argued.

“As selfish as it sounds: No. Not in this instance.”

“I killed her for the horrific death you guys had to go through!” Patrick muttered. “I did it for you! And now you’re saying, that’s what screwed over my entire race?”

Jose sighed, walking around the table to put a hand on his shoulder.

“I wish we could have just told you. But had we have done that, we risked everything. There was a chance we could save our people. But it’s the very thing that makes us human that’s killed us twice now.”

“And what would that be?”

“The satisfaction of being right. You can also call that revenge.”

Patrick buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, man,” Jose gave him pat him on the back.

Patrick rose from his chair, heading for the door.

“Patrick, wait,” Luna rose, but Jose motioned for her to stop. Patrick solemnly slunk out of the room.

“Let him go. He just needs a little time, I’ll handle this.”

“How?”

“Trust me, I know him better than anyone. In the meantime, Princess, it’s about time to raise the moon, isn’t it?”

Luna looked at a nearby wall clock and found that it was indeed time for sunset.

“I must tend to the night. We’ll regroup here shortly to discuss how you plan to use the Elements against the Nightmare.”

“Sounds good.”

“And I know I haven’t been too hospitable since your rude awakenings,” Luna addressed her human company. “But please, in the meantime of any action we’re going to take, make yourselves at home.”

“We certainly will. Thank you, Princess,” Jose bowed his head respectfully as she left the room.

“So, what now?” Louis raised.

“Well,” Twilight bit her lip. “I used to live here, I know where they keep some board games.”

Princess Luna landed back on her balcony window, shaking the filthy nighttime dew off her wings. There was so much soot and ash in the air lately, any ponies that decided to take flight would end up covered in pollution.

She found one of the elite Royal Guards waiting for her, which could only mean something bad had happened. He wore an elegantly engraved set of shoulder and breast plates, with a golden helmet to match. It was the same guard Luna had spoken to in Ponyville behind the Nurse’s office, and one of Celestia’s former trusted advisors. However, his shoulder had been bandaged in a sling, with traces of dried blood crusting the outside of the bandages.

“Your highness,” Lieutenant Black Sword bowed. “We have confined the low ranking officers that took part in the incident earlier today to the barracks and covered up all evidence of the assassination, as your orders.”

Luna nodded, exhaustedly swaying back in forth.

“Are you alright, Princess?”

Besides the fact that she had to help Patrick kill her sister, and the fact she hadn’t slept in more than two days, she was fine.

“Yes,” Luna yawned. “Until the situation with the Nightmare is contained, word of Celestia’s death must not reach the public. It would be catastrophic if the Nightmare found out she was no longer alive.”

“I agree, your highness,” Lieutenant Black Sword said. “But… Was there really no other way?”

“There was not, Lieutenant.”

“Right, then. The subject of the Nightmare is also why I’m here.”

“Go on,” Luna nodded.

“The Nightmare has revealed itself freely in Ponyville, and it claims to have a stockpile of weaponry capable of leveling it and Canterlot simultaneously in a single blast.”

Luna’s eyes went wide, and her heart began to speed up.

“So,” she sighed wearily. “It begins.”

“It challenged the Royalty and the ‘human puppet,’ directly, calling for your surrender. The Nightmare declared that it will commence this attack in 24 hours should you not concede.”

“And how long ago was this?”

“Three hours ago.”

Luna could barely even breathe.

“There has been talk amongst the guards,” the Lieutenant explained. “They are contemplating whether this has been a coup for you to seize the throne, or whether this is really for benevolent purposes. I do not question your decision, your majesty, but I felt it was fair to warn you.”

“Understood,” Luna lifted the covers to her bed and nestled her head comfortably against the pillow.

“It’s not like you to sleep during the night,” Lieutenant Black Sword made his way towards the door. “Especially when we have a doomsday scenario on our hooves.”

“Lieutenant, after the message you just delivered, I’m going to need to rest for a moment. Wake me in exactly one hour. In the meantime, please inform the Elements of Harmony of this news.”

“As you wish, your majesty."

Lieutenant Black Sword huffed, cursing the human that begat him this injury. It made everything more difficult. He could still walk with strained steps, but he was no longer fit for regular guard duty, and the lieutenant actually enjoyed his job.

He entered the giant throne room, expecting to see six ponies bearing the Elements of Harmony. Instead, he saw six ponies, and more of those strange two-legged killing machines, all clad in military dress. They sat on pillows and cushions in front of the royal throne, hunched over a board game.

Just next to them was a giant pile of standard issue tactical vests, some with loaded magazines and other assorted equipment still inside, as well as body armor, kneepads, helmets, and other combat gear that was no longer necessary for them to wear.

They stared up at him like he was a parent intruding on a teenager’s personal space.

“What the blue blazes is going on in here?!” Lieutenant Black Sword shouted.

“We’re playing Monopoly: Ponyville Edition,” Rainbow Dash answered.

“I still don’t understand how they stole Monopoly from us,” Joe scratched his head.

“Gotta’ love it,” Joe said.

“There’s more of you?” Black Sword stared at the group of humans in disbelief.

“No. We’ve been dead since before your race even existed ,” Spencer nonchalantly moved a piece across the board. “But Luna and the Elements of Harmony went back in time to get the bodies we died in, and then resurrected us, so here we are.”

Lieutenant Black Sword’s jaw dropped.

Pinkie drew a card, and read it aloud.

“Do you want to buy Sweet Apple Acres for three hundred bits?”

“Hmm,” Spencer stroked his chin, smugly looking over at Applejack. “Sure, why not?”

“Dagnabbit!” Applejack cursed. “Ah wanted that one!”

“Yeah, well now I own your farm. Can I put a house on it?”

“Whady’all mean? S’already got a house, an’ a barn, too.”

“See, this is why rednecks don’t play board games. They’re too stupid and it ruins the fun when they don’t get things that even a suburban eight year old would.”

“Give me a break!” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Ah’ve never played this game a’fore. And mah’ neck ain’t red, what are ya’ color blind?”

While Spencer was arguing with a down-home farmpony, Joe disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled the Beretta holstered on his thigh.

“Joe, I wouldn’t keep messing with your sidearm,” Ryan watched Joe nervously handle the weapon.

Joe inserted a loaded magazine into the receiver, cocking the slide to fill the chamber. He wiped it down with a small piece of cloth. Joe was the only one who’s sidearm wasn’t lost or destroyed after their violent demise.

“Joe, stop waving a loaded weapon everywhere, are you retarded?” Jose affronted.

“What makes you think you can boss me around?”

“I still outrank you,” Jose grinned. “I’m a Specialist, Mr. Private First Class.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna’ pull that card?” Joe snorted. “Well, there isn’t any United States Army anymore, so your argument is invalid.”

“Damn,” Louis rolled the dice, moving his piece across the board respectively. “He got you there, Jose.”

Jose shot a discontented scowl towards Louis and Joe.

“Anyway, relax,” Joe assured. “Look, I’ve already tried it. All the mechanisms and the spring seem to be all right, but the ammo isn’t. It doesn’t even fire, see?”

Joe raised the handgun into the air, and pulled the trigger, causing everyone and everypony to flinch back.

Click.

“See? You guys are just a bunch of babies.“

POP

A flash of light emerged from the Beretta’s muzzle, and it sent a 9mm round right through the ceiling of the throne room, making everyone’s ears ring.

Lieutenant Black Sword dove for cover, having experienced being shot by one of these human weapons recently, and not wanting to go through it again.

“How in Equestria did your military trust you idiots with these weapons?!” Black Sword barked.

“Sometimes,” Jose snatched the pistol out of Joe’s hand. “I ask myself that same question, sir.”

“Of all the times to hang-fire,” Joe muttered to himself.

“Um, I hate to interrupt,” Rainbow Dash interjected. “But do you want to buy Sugarcube Corner for two hundred-fifty bits, Louis?”

“Enough!” Lieutenant Black Sword cried. “The Nightmare is in Ponyville!”

The ponies and humans looked up from their game.

“C-come again?” Twilight stammered.

“That’s right!” Lieutenant Black Sword hollered. “While you’ve all been playing around, the Nightmare set up a charge that it claims will wipe out all of Ponyville, and Canterlot. Which is where we are right now, in case you didn’t know!”
Black sword paced back and forth.

“And in less than 24 hours, it’s going to set it off unless Celestia, Luna, and Patrick surrender!”

The room was silent while Black Sword panted after delivering such a mouthful.

Spencer looked at the board game, and then flipped it into the air. It threw the board across the room and made it rain confetti of fake money and title deeds.

“In the words of the great, almighty Jim Carrey,” Spencer proclaimed. “Allllllllrighty then. It’s show time.”

“Spencer, sometimes you are so fucking stupid it’s unbelievable,” Joe held his face with is palm.

“I will return with Princess Luna in one hour,” Lieutenant Black Sword headed out the door. “And please, this is the Royal throne room, not a playroom! Clean this mess up!”

“Fine,” Spencer called after him. “What a dick.”

“What was that?” Lieutenant Black Sword spun around.

“I said I want a celery stick!”

The Lieutenant growled like a lion being teased at the local zoo, and exited the throne room.

“Humans…” He thought to himself.

“Spencer, even I thought that was random,” Pinkie commended. “That was a good one!”

“Thanks!” Spencer high-fived Pinkie’s hoof. “At least someone appreciates my humor.”

“Okay, seriously though,” Jose stood up. “I guess I better go get Patrick.”

Jose began walking towards the exit.

“And would you guys mind cleaning that up while I go do that?”

“Yeah, it’s the end of the world,” Louis mocked. “Better have a clean throne room.”

“Why are you all so sarcastic? Doesn’t it ever get old?” Rarity asked.

“No,” Spencer shook his head.

“Not really,” Ryan shrugged.

While the rest of the group finished up in the throne room, Jose strolled the Castle halls, wondering where Patrick may have gone. It wasn’t hard for Jose to find him. All he had to do was follow the scent of burning tobacco.

Patrick hung limply on the railing of a balcony window, staring down into the castle courtyards. The entire area had been cordoned off, and Luna was making sure that news of Celestia’s death would not reach the public by having the body privately prepared for burial. The moon lit up the nightscape in an eerie, hazy glow, shining through the dust and ash still circulating through the sky. The stars, just barely visible through it all, twinkled radiantly.

“Hey,” Jose stood next to Patrick.

“Hey…” he replied unenthusiastically.

“You’re almost out of cigarettes, you know,” Jose put his hands in the pockets of his tactical vest, most of the equipment removed so it would be easier to walk.

“Yep,” Patrick opened the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. It was his last pack, with only twelve remaining inside it.

“You feel guilty about killing Celestia now, don’t you?”

Patrick simply stared out into space.

“I didn’t know,” Patrick sighed. “I wouldn’t have done it if I knew.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” Jose put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I tried to warn you without giving anything away, without directly influencing you. I should have done a better job. It’s my fault, too.”

“I know that you’ve had an eternity to contemplate all this,” said Patrick. “But humanity was still carrying on like normal three weeks ago for me. A year and six months ago, we were still in the desert. I’m… Still not over it.”

They sat in silence for some time.

“Hey, Jose?”

“Yeah?”

“Did it hurt to die?”

“…Yeah.”

“Now, let me ask you something,” Jose said. “Which hurt more: Getting shot, struck by lightning, or nearly bleeding to death?”

Patrick glanced at his right shoulder.

“…The last one. By far.”

Jose nodded to acknowledge him.

“Can I ask you something else?” Patrick questioned.

“Shoot.”

“How long have you guys been keeping an eye on me?”

“Ever since we died.”

“I’d ask how-“

“-And I wouldn’t be able to answer,” Jose interrupted.

“Did you happen to see your funeral?”

“Yes,” Jose looked away. “Most of the souls I’ve met, that had a funeral, actually attend them from the spirit world. Of course, no one really knows they’re there.”

“Did you?”

“Of course,” Jose said. “So were the guys. We were just spectators, which I assume you’re familiar with now.”

Patrick looked to the floor, feeling embarrassed now that his best friends watched him cry like a baby that day.

“We all stood next to you the whole time,” Jose smiled. “When you told the story about the last party we threw before we shipped off, I would have cried, had I been able to.”

“No one thought any less of you. Grief is a natural response to death. You’re only human, Patrick. And when you finally come realize that; that you’re not a bad person, just that you’ve made a few mistakes, you can finally let this all go and start enjoying life again.”

Jose was able to make out a shooting star through the haze.

“Does the entire human race still hate me?”

Jose took a deep breath.

“Yeah, kinda’.”

“Is everyone still going to kick my ass when I die?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes.”

Patrick bowed his head dejectedly.

“I know you feel like shit right now,” Jose looked at the watch strapped on his wrist. “But everything’s about to go down. The Nightmare is in Ponyville and apparently it’s going to blow up everything, including this city, unless they surrender.”

“That sucks,” Patrick muttered.

“It doesn’t know that we’ve been brought back, and it doesn’t know that you killed Celestia. It’s always good to have the element of surprise, you know?”

“Mhmm,” Patrick didn’t even make eye contact.

Frustrated, Jose lifted Patrick up off the railing.

“Alright, come on, we’ve still got a job to do,” he grabbed Patrick by the hand, but he refused.

“What’s the use, Jose?” Patrick moped. “My entire world is gone! The whole human race apparently hates me. And those ponies, that saved my life, might I add, have to deal with the fact that I killed their gentle, all-loving leader. And, on top of all that, I rode my bike off a cliff. How much more could I possibly screw up?”

“Well, Patrick,” Jose looked up to the stars. You could let an entire race of sapient ponies face the greatest genocide the Earth will ever know because you felt so worthless; which you’re not.”

Patrick mulled over the possibility of doing nothing in his head.

“Or…” Jose paused. “You could make up for all that. You can use the Elements of Harmony with us, destroy the Nightmare, and save this world before what happened to the human race happens to them. And, because it’s just the right thing to do.”

“We can still save them?” Patrick asked.

Jose nodded.

“But not mankind?”

Jose shook his head.

“You, personally, have nothing to gain out of this. Therefore, we’d still be powerful enough to fight the Nightmare if you choose to help them for the greater good.”

“Why did all this have to happen to us?”

Patrick looked off into the distance, and then turned around to face Jose. To his surprise, he found four extra faces.

“Because we’ll always be there for each other,” Ryan said.

“Because we’d each take a bullet for each other,” Joe puffed his chest out with pride.

“Because of all the good times we’ve had,” Spencer smiled.

“Because we’re not just friends,” Louis added.

“We’re brothers,” Jose voiced. “Always have been. Always will be. No matter what. Even if we were never supposed to meet.”

Jose locked his hand around Patrick’s forearm, and hesitantly Patrick grabbed his to form a classic war handshake.

“So?” Jose raised an eyebrow. “What’s it going to be?”

Patrick paused. He looked at each of his friends, remembering where they first met. All the sleepovers, all the parties. All the drinking stories and substance abuse. Waking up handcuffed to Jose after getting wasted on top of the school gymnasium and passing out. The time in second grade where Patrick saw Louis beat up the kid who made fun of Joe for his race. Giving Patrick a home and a family when he lost his and needed one most. The list went on and on.

And then there was always BCT. Being there for each other in Basic Combat Training and helping each other through it, as well as the rest of their service cut short. They each made such a remarkable impact on each others lives, that nothing could tear them apart. Not even this entire ordeal.

Patrick couldn’t help but smile when he reflected on all he and his friends had been through. Celestia may have prevented him from having a normal family, but these young men were his real family. These men he grew up with were not his friends.

They were his brothers.

“So?” Jose repeated.

Patrick exhaled, smiling and giving a subtle nod.

“Let’s go fuck this Nightmare’s shit up.”

Chapter 18

Mass stampedes of ponies evacuating Ponyville, Canterlot, and its surrounding countryside clogged all roads and paths leading away from the area. The Nightmare had even destroyed certain parts of Equestria’s railroad system. It shut down any locomotives and prevented mass transit away. Even the Pegasi found themselves trapped within the Nightmare’s intended blast zone. The smoke and ash from the burning cities of Manehattan and Fillydelphia made it difficult to fly quickly or breathe when above the clouds. It made the sky an artificial overcast brown and gray.

Unicorns were unable to teleport themselves or others due to the interference of the anti-magic. There was simply not enough time to get out of the Nightmare’s blast range within 24 hours on hoof or carriage, though still, many fled.

The air was becoming thinner, the pollution of nuclear fallout continued to degrade the ponies’ health. The sun, unbeknownst to the public, was raised by Luna for the first time in more than a thousand years.

The Nightmare knew its message had been delivered. It allowed some of Celestia’s soldiers to survive for that very purpose.

Though, it struck the Nightmare as odd that Celestia or Luna had not made a public appearance since the attacks began. But, perhaps it was for that very reason, so they would not put themselves in danger while they plotted against the Nightmare.

Perhaps they deserved a bit more time than a day, but there was no negotiating at this point. It was all or nothing: Surrender, or total annihilation of their nation’s capital and populous areas. Either way, the Nightmare was about to assume rule of Equestria.

The Nightmare had not been seen since it’s last appearance, but the sphere of dark magic containing ancient human thermonuclear warheads remained. Many brave unicorns attempted to dispel it, and dispose of the weapons. Despite their best efforts, each one that tried and failed was struck with a paralyzing bolt of lightning, while the orb continued to crackle and surge with magical energy.

“Mommy?” a pegasus colt, who had recently walked all the way from Manehattan to Ponyville, looked up at his mother.

“How much longer do we have?”

The mare looked up at the clock tower in Ponyville’s town square.

“Not much longer, darling.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes, ‘hun?”

“Is the world going to end?”

"I don’t know, sweetie.”

“Where is Princess Celestia and Princess Luna? And what’s a ‘human puppet?”

“…I don’t know, sweetie.”

Princess Luna yawned as she entered the meeting room again. Lieutenant Black Sword had begrudgingly informed the Elements and humans of Luna’s presence.

Lieutenant Black Sword, currently Luna’s most trusted advisor, remained present during this meeting.

“Um,” Patrick leaned backwards in his chair. “Sorry about your shoulder.”

Lieutenant Black Sword snorted in resentment.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Patrick pulled up his sleeve, showing the entry and exit wound of a 7.62mm round. “Now we have something in common.”

“The time has finally come,” Princess Luna sighed. She was tired, everypony could see it in her eyes that it was not just physical exhaustion. The mental and emotional burden of losing her sister, and using such powerful magic over a short period of time was obvious, and she knew that.

“I did not think that it would be this soon. Nor did I ever think we’d have to face it without Celestia, but the Nightmare must be stopped. We have a mere 16 hours to plan and ready ourselves.”

“We all whole heartedly agree,” Jose nodded.

“Including you, Patrick?” Luna asked him.

Patrick paused for a moment.

“Yes,” he said. “That includes me. I can never take back what I’ve done, but at least I can still do something right as long as I’m still breathing. Let’s do it.”

“I’m very glad to hear you say that, Patrick,” Luna replied.

Jose winked at her, mouthing “Told you.”

“Now then,” Patrick twiddled his thumbs. “What exactly do we have to do?”

“You must possess the Elements of Harmony and challenge the Nightmare,” Luna responded. “Girls, if you please?”

One by one, Twilight removed her tiara, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy removed their necklaces, laying them before the Princess.

She turned her attention to the six humans looking on.

“I give these to you, in the hope that you may save our kingdom from destruction and genocide,” she spoke. “Please claim your element.”

Each of the humans, except for Patrick, seemed to know exactly which one they were supposed to claim.
They slipped the Elements of Harmony, still in the form of necklaces, around their necks. Louis, the human element of honesty; Ryan, the human element of kindness; Spencer; the human element of laughter; Joe, the human element of generosity, and finally Jose; the human element of magic.

Patrick looked before Luna, where only one more necklace was remaining; the red, lightning-bolt shaped gem that Rainbow Dash wore.

…And thankfully, not the tiara.

“Obviously, as you have demonstrated to us all, Patrick,” Luna said. “You are the element of loyalty.”

He glanced over at Jose, stifling a laugh as he wore the golden tiara bearing the element of magic on his head.
Jose leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

“Patrick, put on the fucking necklace before I beat your ass.”

Patrick did as he was told. Immediately all necklaces, and the tiara, began to glow. They were each engulfed in a bright, white light, shifting and changing into the Human Elements.

When they stopped glowing, they were no longer pieces of golden jewelry with colorful gemstones. They had changed into dog tags; hung by a golden ball chain, and each pair of tags the same color as the gemstone before.

The tiara on Jose’s head had changed into dog tags as well, but his were unique. His tags were a clean, pearlescent white; but it gave off a pinkish glow, making it clearly different from the rest of the elements.

Patrick examined the dog tags hanging around his neck. They were a crimson, metallic red. But what stood out to him was that they were blank, featuring no inscription on either side.

He began to feel something different inside him. Words couldn’t really describe what he felt, but it suddenly came over him. He felt as if he were connected to his friends, through the elements around their necks.

It was as if he could feel his heart; not from a physical point of view, though. The heart is always used as a metaphor for where you feel your emotions, for love. In a spiritual sense, he could feel it very strongly, and it felt as if it pulled towards his friends.

Twilight, awestruck, stepped forward to examine the elements hanging around the humans’ necks.

“I-I don’t understand,” Twilight stammered. “I did so much research on the Elements of Harmony since we last used them, but I’ve never read about anything like this. How can they change, just like that?”

“These are the Human Elements of Harmony,” Luna explained. “For ponies, because of how our society, your hearts, and our mindsets are, they became jewelry. These boys, and their world, were more militaristic. You are not the first, nor the last to use them. However,” Luna turned to the group of humans again.

“You will be.”

“Pardon?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, wait,” said Rainbow Dash. “I thought this was just going to be like ‘ZAP, Nightmare’s done,’ and then they just give them back.”

“Celestia artificially made you all the most powerful incarnation of the Elements. The fact that you’re humans will make you stronger, more so than the Nightmare, if I’m not mistaken. But the Elements were not made for you. They were made for ponykind. If what Celestia informed me is correct, you will destroy the Nightmare, as well as the Elements.”

“The elements are going to be destroyed?” Rainbow Dash cocked her head to one side.

“Considering how much Equestria needs them on a regular basis,” Twilight started. “What are we supposed to do the next time we need the Elements?”

“Well,” Luna bit her lip. “The Elements of Harmony are tools given to us by the gods to combat the Nightmare should it ever threaten Equestria, through direct or influential means.”

“…Those who came before?” Twilight asked.

“Yes,” Luna nodded. “If the Nightmare is destroyed, then we no longer would have need for them.”

“Alright, well,” Jose shugged. “If you’re okay with that; we’ve got the Elements, we’ve got Patrick on board, let’s go fight. I’ve been ready for thousands of years to finally kill this thing.”

“Please,” Patrick jingled the dogtags around his neck. “Who are those that came before?”

“Long, long story, man,” Louis said. “But in short, after humanity ended, they recreated the world, and put certain boundaries and limitations on the planet.”

“They gave the alicorns roles to make society more dependant on them, by having to raise the sun and moon. They gave the Nightmare a role, too. But it’s been corrupted, and can no longer be trusted to exist. That’s where we come in.”

“But-“

“Patrick,” Jose shushed him. “I’m really sorry to keep even more secrets from you, but some things you are better off not knowing.”

Jose gestured at Luna and the former elements.

“All of you.”

“Is the Nightmare going to be able to go into my head, like it did to you?” Ryan asked Patrick.

“I don’t know.”

“Ryan, please, we have to plan-“ Luna started, but Ryan was still curious.

Luna tapped her hoof in frustration, until Rainbow Dash spoke up.

"Actually, I'm kind of curious, too."

“Yes, what did it feel like, Patrick?” Twilight asked him.

Patrick took a deep breath.

“It felt like…” Patrick almost remained serious, but then just decided to speak his mind.

“It felt like Eddie Murphy drilled a hole in the back of my head and started skull-fucking my brains into jelly with his big, black dick.”

Joe let out a roar of laughter that made Fluttershy shrink back.

“That-” Joe wheezed between laughter, giving Patrick a high five. “That wouldn’t have been so funny if I hadn’t seen Dr. Dolittle and the Nutty Professor, like, twenty times each.”

“Or maybe just because you’re black,” Spencer chided.

“You guys have existed for thousands of years, and you still haven’t matured?” Rainbow Dash teased.

“Knock it off, Rainbow,” Applejack barked.

“Um, I just wanted to remind everyone that we have sixteen hours until the end of the world, again,” Jose raised his hand to get the attention of everyone.”

“Thank you, Jose,” Luna declared.

“I trust that you will be able to take care of this situation,” Luna addressed the humans seriously. “The Fate of our entire race rests in your hands.”

The clock in Ponyville’s town center struck noon, while the streets were hushed in a lonely silence. The wind rustled through the leaves as the clock tower continued to chime. Each deep note rung and resonated across the village.

It felt like Equestria’s funeral. Most ponies fled through the countryside, knowing that they would not be out of range of the Nightmare’s greatest attack. With no word from Canterlot, Equestria had assumed the royal sisters abandoned them in their time of need.

A loose collection of ponies fearing death assembled in the town square.They begrudgingly lowered themselves in submittance to the Nightmare in the hopes that they may be spared.

The Nightmare hovered above the crackling orb of magic with its doomsday device. Each step of its plan had been taken so carefully, and now it all paid off patiently executing it. Attacking Canterlot head-on would have been catastrophic. By playing with Celestia, and using the chaos of the assassination attempt, the Nightmare had effectively confused them. What was its plan? Where would it attack next? The anti-magic kept anypony, including the alicorns, from teleporting out of the vicinity, and the radiation weeded out the weak that didn’t even deserve to submit to the Nightmare, anyway.

The Nightmare was lost in thought as the bells kept chiming, when it sensed movement. Scanning beyond the crowd, the Nightmare saw it.

It was the human that Celestia summoned, standing alone. He wore his black, textile motorcycle jacket, and a black object was holstered to his hip. The bells stopped chiming, and the human continued to stare at the Nightmare, having a standoff.

It was like the calm before the storm, the only sound audible were the leaves blowing away with the wind. Not even the birds were chirping.

Ponies began craning their necks, seeing Patrick standing there by himself.

The Nightmare was the first to speak. It was so giddy with excitement and anticipation, it’s tone sounded different; almost demonic.

“Hello, Patrick.”

Patrick did not reply.

“Where is Luna? Where is Celestia?”

Patrick did nothing other than make"eye contact" with the Nightmare to acknowledge its presence. His heart was beating rapidly, but he kept his cool. From the Nightmare’s spiritual perspective, his eyes burned red with malice; with the experience and desire to end life.

“Have you come here alone?”

“No,” Patrick shook his head.

“Well, look around,” the Nightmare began to creep closer to him. “It sure looks that way.”

“Actually,” Patrick smiled, crossing his arms. “I brought some friends.”

He unzipped his jacket, revealing the human element of loyalty hanging around his neck.

Instantly, five humans became visible just behind Patrick. Around each of their necks were the rest of the Elements of Harmony in their dog tag forms. Princess Luna appeared adjacent to them, her horn dimming its glow and ceasing the invisibility spell that cloaked the extra human company.

The crowd of ponies that were once bowing and submitting in front of the Nightmare began whispering frantically to themselves. And this angered it.

“So,” the Nightmare said. “We have the expendable weakling that is the moon princess, and then the Human Elements of Harmony. May I ask where Celestia is, then?”

“I killed her,” Patrick responded. “And now, we’re going to kill you.”

The Nightmare laughed. It laughed so loud, that Patrick could feel the bass of it in his chest.

“Then you’ve saved me a lot of effort, young man. I thank you for that. But I’m afraid it’s a little too late to stop me. My weapons are armed to go off in about, oh, ten seconds now.”

The Nightmare tore a hole in reality and began to move through the portal to safety.

“So, I’ll be seeing you.”

The ponies that had given up on fleeing the town to surrender the Nightmare gasped, realizing that it was abandoning them now. They dispersed from the town square in a panic. The ponies that feared death stood and wept. Families hugged each other, while some accepted their fate, closing their eyes and sitting still.

Before the Nightmare could disappear through the portal, it felt itself being pulled back out.

Luna groaned, dragging the Nightmare back into reality. She closed the portal and confined the Nightmare to the Earth, preventing its escape.

Two unicorns, the very same that defeated it as Nightmare Moon, stood next to Luna.
Luna’s horn shined brightly. She moved towards the sphere of magic that the Nightmare used to safeguard the human warheads, and encased it in a blue glow. Rarity and Twilight followed, assisting her and freezing whatever magical timer they were on.

“As long as we hold it here, it won’t detonate!” Luna shouted. “Do it, now!”

The Nightmare fired a bolt of dark magic towards Luna and the unicorns holding off its timer spell, when it was stopped in midair.

The humans, their eyes all glowing a radiant orange, a bright pink, a lively blue, a royal purple, a burning red, and a hot white, stood offensively before the Nightmare.

Patrick didn’t know how, but it he knew exactly what to do. It was as if the Element he bore took over him, directing him to use the magic that coursed through his body from the dog tags around his neck.

Normally, Patrick would be nervous during a battle with a supernatural being about to obliterate everything in a several-hundred-mile radius.

He looked to his left.

He looked to his right.

As long as he had his brothers by his side, nothing really mattered to him right now. Patrick felt a new drive, a new determination: It was the Nightmare that caused Celestia to do what she did. It was the Nightmare that ruined his life, not Celestia. That killed his true family and ruined his biological one. It was the Nightmare that ruined his life, and threatened countless more lives.

He saw the ponies panicking, believing their lives, their very existence was at an end. Patrick may have ruined any chance of saving the human race, but he could still save this one. He was not about to let these innocent, peaceful beings succumb to the tools that killed his people when they didn’t even know what he was, or where he came from.

And the way he saw it, he and the people it killed were holding a gun to its head.

The Nightmare felt something it hadn’t felt genuinely felt in a long time: Fear. Apprehension. Doubt. Its confident ego deflated from its normally confident standpoint, to a defensive and frantic one. They really did have the potential to ‘kill’ the Nightmare.

The Nightmare shook itself out of the Elements’ grip. It was not about to go yet. It had to act fast. Before the Elements could focus their power on it, a violent wind cyclone suddenly appeared in the town square, causing break-neck winds to tear through Ponyville. It threw market stands and anything not rooted to the ground into the air.

Luna enveloped her and her two unicorn allies in a protective bubble of magic to keep them from blowing away or being hit by debris.

Patrick felt himself lift off the ground. While he was airborne, a ceramic flowerpot struck him in the side of the head, bursting into fragments and drawing blood.

He and Jose slammed into the side of a building hard. He fell flat on the ground, growling and clenching his teeth to distract him from the pain. Jose tumbled on top of him, grabbing Patrick and holding onto a door handle to keep them from being blown away again.

Joe, Spencer, and Ryan were quick to react, and held onto a street lamp bolted to the ground to keep themselves from going anywhere. Louis smashed into a wooden cart before smacking against an iron fence, his arm getting caught in between the bars and bending unnaturally. He howled in pain, trying desperately to free himself.

Suddenly, a yellow and cyan blur raced through the small village being assaulted by the Nightmare’s windstorm.

“Okay, ready?” Rainbow Dash shouted through all the noise as she hovered in mid-air.

“I’ve only done this once!” Fluttershy cried. “And I still didn’t do very good!”

“You’ll be fine!” Rainbow Dash replied. “We gotta’ do this now, they’re really taking a beating down there!”

“Oh, alright!” Fluttershy said. “Just- Please don’t let me hit anything this time!”

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy flew past each other round and round, forming an artificial tornado circulating in the opposite direction of the Nightmare’s storm. They plowed right through Ponyville, negating the winds and neutralizing the windstorm completely, while taking out a few buildings in the process.

“Ha!” Rainbow Dash halted to a stop. “See? I knew you could do it!”

Fluttershy continued to fly in a slow, erratic circle. Her eyes spun around in her head dizzily.

“I-I think I’m going to be sick,” Fluttershy squeaked.

Jose stood to his feet and helped Patrick off the ground. Joe, Spencer, and Ryan safely put their feet on the ground as the winds ceased.

“Fuck! Oh fucking-shhhhit!” Louis screamed in pain.

“Ffffffffuck!” he cried through clenched teeth. He rolled over in agony, clutching his left wrist. “I forgot how much physical pain hurts!”

Rainbow Dash zipped around the Nightmare, distracting it from attacking any of the humans recovering from the windstorm.

Jose grabbed Louis’s uninjured hand and lifted him up.

“Are you good?” Jose asked with concern.

“Ugh, yeah,” Louis clenched his right fist. “My left wrist is broken, and I’m left handed! I’m totally good!”

“You alright, Louis?” Ryan called as they regrouped.

“No, I can’t even jack off properly now!” Louis shifted his angry gaze to the Nightmare. “Let’s just kill this fucking thing, for god’s sake!”

The Nightmare burst forward in its cloud form, sending Rainbow Dash hurtling across the sky and through the roof of a two-story building.

Fluttershy fled, flying through the hole in the roof to Rainbow’s aid.
The Nightmare loomed over the human Elements, ready to strike them before they could focus quickly enough to use the elements again.

“Open fire!” Pinkie Pie screeched.

Before the Nightmare could cast its own spell, its focus was broken by a shrill voice.

Pinkie Pie and Applejack stood aboard a cart of apples, along with cupcakes and other deserts. They began hurling the apples and pastries at the Nightmare, causing it to chuckle audibly, but distracting it enough to where they could get Louis to safety.

The apples and cupcakes simply phased right through the Nightmare. It struck the two earth ponies with another bolt of magic, painfully throwing them both to the ground.

“Ugh,” Applejack groaned. “That probably weren’t the best idear’.”

“Fools!” The Nightmare thundered. “Do you think you can beat me that easily? You really think I’m just a pointless entity that is evil for no cause?”

The humans paid the Nightmare no mind, and grouped together. Their eyes began to glow again, getting brighter and brighter.

“You may have the potential to defeat me, but do you realize what I really am? What those who came before created me for?”

“I AM SIN!” the Nightmare boomed with a voice even louder than Patrick’s motorcycle.

The Nightmare encased Patrick in black magic, disrupting the Elements. Patrick struggled, but he wasn’t able to get out of the Nightmare’s grasp.

His vision darkened. He could hear the shouts of his friends, he knew he was still in Ponyville, that he was still alive but the Nightmare had shrouded him in its darkness.

And then, Patrick felt the familiar, agonizing presence of the Nightmare descend upon him. It seeped into Patrick’s mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, making its way into his mind again.

“Shit! Patrick!” Jose cried.

“Hey! What the fuck do we do?!” He screamed to Luna.

“I can’t help him!” Luna called back. “If we stop holding this, it’ll detonate!”

“You’re kidding me!” Jose replied. “So what can we do?”

“I don’t know!” Luna continued to hold the spell steady. “He’s on his own…”

Meanwhile, inside Patrick’s mind, there was calm. The Nightmare was not ripping his brains apart, or going through his memories. Patrick saw a room with a single table and chair. There was no entrance, and no exit. The walls, floors, and ceiling were all perfectly white.

Sitting at the table was a humanoid form dressed in an elegant black suit and a matching tie. Its skin was uniformly black, and it lacked any facial features to speak of, including a mouth. The only defining feature this being had was a pair of glowing turquoise eyes.

“Have a seat,” it spoke. Patrick simply stood there, studying the figure.

“Yes, I am the Nightmare. I’d kill you right now, Patrick, but you have the Element of Loyalty around your neck, so I can’t.”

Patrick looked down. Even in his mind, the red, glowing dog tags hanging from a golden chain still remained on his neck.

“Please, let’s chat. I think we may be able to settle this, between one life ruined by Celestia, to another.” Cautiously, Patrick stepped forward and sat in the chair. It was a generic, folding metal seat. The table was of modern design; a sheet of thick glass held up by four rectangular posts.

The Nightmare, in its current form, put its hands together in front of it and gently set them on the table, as if it were just doing a casual business deal.

Patrick crossed his arms, being wary of his surroundings. The Nightmare’s turquoise eyes blinked, looking as though they could stare right through him.

“You see Patrick,” the Nightmare explained. “Those who came before, the same entities responsible for creating Equestria after your people ruined this planet and became extinct, created me. They were gods in a sense; they created the first alicorns, and set the rules of the world as we know it today. The two alicorns that ruled Equestria have always been the light, metaphorically speaking, while I have always been the dark.”

“I accepted my role for this world. My purpose was to be the darkness that balanced the light. The alicorns purpose was to bring the day and night, and give a sense of devotion, love, and care to their subjects by controlling the sun and moon. Those who came before did not want the same thing that happened to your race to happen to Equestria, so they minimized the questioning and conflicts of authority by making magic so influential in our everyday lives. But once pony life began, they left us, never to be seen again. I’m sure you’re familiar with the phrase: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction? For each and every force, there is an equally opposing force?”

Patrick nodded.

“I am that opposing force. You could say that I am comparable to the devil for Equestria, while Celestia is similar to your Jesus Christ. After all, she was martyred.”

Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Really though, I am the physical, yet spiritual, embodiment of sin for ponykind. Celestia felt her influence was more than mine, and ruled how she saw fit and against my wishes. All I want to do, Mr. Wilcox, is to release the world from the blanket of ignorance Celestia wrapped it in. I only wish to make this world a better place, by weeding out the weak and pursuing the knowledge she hid from us.”

“You know, there was a human who tried to do that same thing,” Patrick crossed his arms. “His name was Adolf Hitler. He’s widely considered to be the most evil human being that ever existed. He had good intentions, he tried to create a master race. But he did so by the genocide of millions who he considered weak, and sparked the greatest conflict humanity ever knew before the nuclear war that made us extinct. You’re exactly like that madman, and I’m not going to negotiate with the insane.”

“Then I’m afraid we’ve come to a stalemate, Patrick,” the Nightmare said. “However, you want to save humanity, and I want to recreate Equestria in their image.”

Patrick paused.

“Go on.”

“I see that got your attention,” The Nightmare twiddled its thumbs.

“All you need to do is forsake your friends. You require all six Elements’ cooperation to defeat me. And if a single one doesn’t, then your elements are useless. Do this, and I will save humanity, prevent the nuclear war from occurring, and send you back to where you belong. I can give you your life back. I can even make you a rich and powerful man, Patrick. I can make you and give you whatever it is you desire in the human world.”

“You’re bluffing,” Patrick scoffed.

“Am I?”

Immediately, an impossibly thin square popped into the room, floating to the Nightmare’s right.

On the square, images of a much younger Patrick with his mother and father lying together on a sandy beach appeared. Images of growing older, falling in love and marrying a beautiful brunette.

Patrick watched a young girl that greatly resembled Patrick ride on his back as they ran together around a backyard, while his spouse recorded them with a video camera.

Patrick contemplated this, breaking eye contact with the Nightmare.

“No mortal lives forever, Patrick,” the Nightmare persuaded. “And it’s my understanding that every human that ever existed isn’t going to be very happy to see you in the afterlife. So, choose wisely, Mr. Wilcox, what’s it going to be? The human race, or ponies?”

“Patrick!” Jose tried desperately to save Patrick as he levitated in the air. His body was lifelessly still, and the Nightmare had completely covered him in a black shroud of magic.

“Why won’t these fucking things work?” Spencer shook his dog tags violently, clinking them together. “Why can’t we use them to snap him out of it?”

“Because,” Jose said. “He doesn’t want to. He and the Nightmare must be talking to each other. And he’s listening to what it has to say.”

“Oh you gotta’ fucking kidding me!” Joe complained.

“And we need all six elements to stand together for them to work,” Jose finished explaining.

“We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

After what felt like an eternity, the humans anxiously looked up at Patrick’s figure covered by the Nightmare. Finally, something happened.

There was a thundering crack, and the blackness that was enveloping Patrick was torn off of him in a crimson glow. It reformed into the Nightmare’s gaseous form, dizzily churning just above the ground.

Patrick’s eyes gleamed, giving off a deep red. His dog tags levitated a few inches from his chest and glowed as well.

“Fuck yeah, Patrick!” Spencer cheered. “Let’s kill that motherfucker!”

With no more interference and the Nightmare weakened by Patrick’s sheer loyalty, the rest of the Human Elements’ eyes lit up their respective colors, until their eyes all shined a scorching white that put even the sun to shame.

Patrick was levitated into the air with his friends, and all six shot forth a bolt of pure, white magic, fueled by the Elements of Harmony they wielded. Each streak of magic combined into one powerful thunderbolt, striking the Nightmare.

The Nightmare’s dark cloud swirled, becoming smaller and smaller, before it flashed a bright white and exploded into a thousand fragments of pure evil, and faded out of existence.

It was finally over. Patrick collapsed to the ground. The rest of them did the same, each suffering from a spell of exhaustion after using such a large amount of foreign magic.
Patrick lifted his head off the ground, looking around to see the aftermath. Ponyville looked as though it had been trashed by a frat party. Windows were broken, doors blown in, trails of debris scattered everywhere, while unconscious civilian ponies lay in the street.

“Jose?” Patrick rose to his knees and waddled forward to him, watching him slowly breathe in and out. He shook him awake. “You alright?’

“Yeah,” Jose opened his eyes. Patrick rose to his feet and helped Jose up.

“Thanks,” Jose smiled. “I… I think we did it.”

“Ugh,” Joe sat up. “My head.”

“You’re telling me,” Ryan commented.

“At least you don’t have a migraine and a broken wrist,” Louis coddled his left arm, keeping it bent at the elbow.

“Shit, how much did I drink last ni -“ Spencer opened his eyes and looked around. “Oh, yeah, ponies in the future. So, did we win?”

Jose looked towards Luna, Rarity, and Twilight. He expected them to be filled with joy, but instead, they continued to hold back the timer the Nightmare had put on the warheads. Luna wore a panicked expression, and Twilight and Rarity exchanged nervous glances.

Louis and Spencer helped Applejack and Pinkie Pie up. They suffered a few burns and bruises, but were otherwise fine.

Fluttershy lowered Rainbow Dash onto the ground, the handle of a first aid kit in her mouth. Rainbow Dash had a bandage wrapped around one of her legs and her back, but she still smiled happily knowing that the Nightmare had been defeated.

Patrick flashed her a thumbs up, and then turned to see Jose speaking to Luna, her horn still glowing.
“Hey!” Patrick jogged over to them. “We did it! We killed the Nightmare, it’s finally over! …Why are you three so bummed out?”

The rest of the gang followed, while civilian ponies began to come-to, looking on curiously from their hiding places. Patrick noticed their stares, but dismissed it. They could be told the good news later, this required his immediate attention.

“I don’t quite know how to say this,” Luna looked to the floor.

“We’re not strong enough to stop the countdown,” Twilight blurted out.

“But, we just destroyed the Nightmare!” Patrick gaped in disbelief. “What do you mean you’re not strong enough?"

“The countdown is up. We can delay the blast, but not forever. The Nightmare cast a very strong spell over those things, and alicorn magic is only able to negate the Nightmare’s spells when both are present. I didn’t really plan for doing this part without Celestia, only for the destruction of the Nightmare.”

“Does anyone here know how to defuse a nuclear bomb?” Spencer looked around questioningly.

“No? Well, we’re fucked then.”

“…Not quite,” Luna looked at each of the humans necks. “The Elements… they weren’t destroyed.”

Patrick looked down. The element of loyalty still hung around his neck.

“So, what does that mean?” Jose clinked his dog tags together.

“The moment we stop holding it off, it will explode,” Luna explained. “It’s a little risky, and a little unorthodox, but if you used the Elements to hold off the explosion for a little longer, perhaps…”

Luna rubbed her chin in thought.

“No, that’s mad. That would never work.”

“What?” Twilight said, finding it hard to keep feeding magic into Luna’s spell.

“We can’t last much longer, Princess,” Rarity protested. “Tell us, what’s your idea?”

“Well,” Luna sighed. “There’s a good part, and a bad part.”

“What’s the bad part?” Louis continued to cradle his wrist.

“All six of you die.”

The six humans exchanged surprised glances.

“Oh,” Joe scratched the back of his head. “What’s the good part?”

“I can gather a large amount of unicorns, and we could cast a confining spell over this small area. Then, you let the weapon detonate while we confine the blast under a magic field, killing you all in the process, but saving Canterlot and Ponyville from total obliteration, and Equestria from the radiation.”

“Hey, yeah!” Twilight exclaimed. “Princess, you’re a genius!”

“…Yeah,” Spencer griped. “That sounds like an awesome plan.”

“Oh,” Twilight deflated. “Sorry, I didn’t really think about the part where… Yeah.”

The six humans were quiet for a few moments, until Louis broke the silence.

“Ah, fuck it!” Louis spoke up. “I’ve been dead for thousands of years, and I’ll die again some day. I’m in.”

“Me, too,” Ryan raised his hand. “I think it’s time to go back to where we belong.”

“I’m just a dead person in a dead person’s body,” Joe shrugged.

“There’s no alcohol here, anyway,” Spencer stated. “That’s reason enough to kill myself.”

Jose nodded to his comrades, when all five looked at Patrick.

“So,” Jose looked him in the eye. “All six of the Elements need to cooperate for this to work. Are you with us?”

Patrick’s knees began to shake at the thought of death.

“Uh,” Patrick stammered. “I…”

“Hey,” Jose put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “It’s really not that bad. I know it probably sounds frightening, death being so unknown to you.”

Patrick nodded to acknowledge him.

“But if we don’t, then millions, even billions, are going to die.”

“Besides,” Joe added. “We’ll be right there with you, Pat. To the end.”

“Please, Patrick,” Rarity pouted sticking her lower lip out.

“This is our home,” Pinkie Pie looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes.

“We’re begging you, Patrick,” Fluttershy pleaded.

“Mah’ farm is all mah’ family’s got left,” Applejack took her hat off. “But Ah’ know y’all’d be payin’ the ultimate price.”

“Patrick,” Twilight, still assiting Luna, looked over to him. “After seeing all the sacrifices you’ve made, I…” The small unicorn stammered.

“I forgive you for killing Celestia. I know you wouldn’t have done it if you knew her true intentions all along.“

“Really?” Patrick said, surprised. “You really mean that, when I executed her right in front of you?”

“Yes,” Twilight nodded. “You’re very brave, and very strong to have been able to bear all this pressure. I don’t blame you for any of it. After all,” Twilight smiled.

“You’re only human.”

Patrick felt as if a weight had dropped off his shoulders, hearing that come from Twilight.

“Ah’ would have cracked a long time ago,” Applejack patted him on the shoulder. “Ya’ get a heapin’ of credit in mah’ book just for pressin’ on, in my book.”

“You’re not a bad person, Patrick,” Rainbow Dash said. “And you’re probably the most awesome human I’ve ever meet.”

“You’ve only met six,” Patrick replied.

“Still the most awesome, by far. Since you appreciate speed almost as much as me.”

“I think the APD could say Patrick appreciates speed a lot more that you do,” Jose put his arm around Patrick.

Patrick let out a small chuckle.

Even his heart, chilled by the horrors of war and so much suffering in his life, wasn’t untouched by their pleas.

“Okay,” Patrick sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Patrick,” Luna murmured softly.

Patrick, Jose, Louis, Joe, Ryan, and Spencer all readied themselves to transfer control of Luna’s spell while she and the former Elements would go recruit as many unicorns as they could for their task.

“It was nice meeting you,” Ryan smiled sheepishly as he gave Fluttershy a goodbye.

“And you,” Fluttershy smiled as she rose into the air. “Good luck!”

“Sorry we all can’t stay longer,” Joe said to Rarity. “Duty calls.”

“It’s understandable, darling,” Rarity shook his hand for the last time.

“Party on,” Spencer looked down at Pinkie.

“I really wish you could make it to the totally super fun-tastic the-world-didn’t-end party we’re going to be having after this,” Pinkie Pie frowned, but then she perked right back up. “Ooh! Can you come back as a ghost and come to it? I have a bed sheet you could wear! Wait, can you come back on Nightmare Night? I have this prank I really want to do and I need a real ghost for it because-”

“-So, who else feels ready to die? Anyone?”

“You did a good thing,” Jose knelt down to Twilight’s eye level. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy to forgive Patrick.”

“I’m sure you think it’s probably just because I want to save Equestria,” Twilight remarked. “But I truly meant what I said.”

“Then she taught you well,” Jose gave her a small hug. “Take care, it was great meeting you.”

“Why do I feel like I already know you from somewhere?” Twilight asked Jose.

“Because,” he stood up. “Friendship is magic.”

“Well, I guess this is it,” Rainbow Dash flew at Patrick’s eye level. “I know we probably drove you crazy, but I hope you won’t forget us, or me.”

“I won’t. Believe me, I won’t,” Patrick smiled.

“And one more thing,” she beat her wings, ready to take off just before whispering in Patrick’s ear.

“Thanks for saving our world, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick replied sarcastically. “The way I see it, I was going to die anyway. Might as well do something good before that.”

Patrick fist bumped her hoof, and she shot off into the sky.

Using the elements once more, the six humans took control over holding the blast at bay and released Luna, Twilight, and Rarity from tending to it. The strain varied from that of riding a bicycle to pushing a car up a hill.

For more than 12 hours, the human elements kept the Nightmare’s doomsday device from detonating. Gradually, a mixture of recruited civilian and Royal Guard unicorns began showing up, led to the scene by Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Rarity or teleported by Luna and Twilight.

Luna refrained from raising the moon, only this once, as daytime hours would make the operation run much more smoothly.

The humans, their eyes lit with the color of their element, formed a circle around the stockpile of the Nightmare’s nukes. The moment they’d cease using the Elements, they would be vaporized.

Finally, there were enough competent spell-casting unicorns to complete the spell. Shoulder to shoulder, hundreds of unicorn mares and stallions, young and old alike, formed a ring around the humans in the center of Ponyville. When Luna gave the signal, all of their horns began to glow.

A transparent umbrella of magic gradually crept from the ground up, forming a protective dome to protect the outside world. It was much like a larger scale of the magic bubble Luna had cast around her, Twilight, and Rarity earlier. But in this case, it was meant to protect everything outside of it.

Once the confining spell was complete, it was time.

Patrick’s heart began to pound, instinctively becoming afraid of death. His mind raced around a million questions. Was it going to be nothing like he thought it was? Did every human being that ever existed still have it out for him? Humans were now going to be completely extinct, was there really no more hope for humanity?

But then, he found himself accepting it. He’d faced death quite a few times since he fell to Equestria, but this was the only time he was able to choose when. It was finally time to have some rest from all the problems that plagued him for so long. To finally get away from all the drama. To get away from all the flashbacks, and finally start living in the present. As ironic as it was, in order to start enjoying life again, Patrick chose to die.

He took one last look around at the ponies that surrounded him, to remind himself why he was doing this. They were innocent. If giving his life would spare them from humanity’s fate, if he could save an entire race by taking his last breath, then there was no more important purpose for Patrick’s very existence. This was his purpose, this was his destiny. His job was over, and now it was time to go.

He caught one last glimpse of the six ponies that saved his life all standing next to each other. Patrick waved, and then turned his eyes forward.

“It’s gonna’ be a good day,” Jose assured Patrick.

They dropped the spell that froze the nuclear warheads mere feet from them.

“I can feel it.”

The most brilliant flash of light engulfed Patrick.

He felt his skin, his muscles, his internal organs, his skeleton, all burn away instantly, and then there was nothing left of him.

There was a high-pitched whine as the light continued to blind him. At first, it was incredibly bright. But then it got dark.

Very dark.

And nothing happened.
…

Chapter 19: The End + Afterword

“The microphone explodes, shattering the molds, ya either drop tha hits like de la O or get the fuck off the commode-“

The blaring, rebellious lyrics of Rage Against the Machine awoke a tired, slumbering individual. His head was in a fog, with only one thought in his mind: Shutting off that damn music so he could go back to sleep.

“With the sure shot, sure to make the bodies drop. Drop and don’t copy yo-“

A charging cell phone’s alarm function was the source of the rugged notes. A hand hastily swept across a nightstand next to his bed. It inadvertently unplugged the phone and sent it flying through the air, crashing to the floor. The back of the phone slipped off, dislodged the battery, and silenced the phone’s alarm.

He didn’t really care to deal with the fact that he may have just broken his phone, all that mattered to individual at the moment was sleep. He settled back into his bed, closing his eyes.

…

Something wasn’t right, here.

…

And then, everything came rushing back to him. He saw his friends standing around him, and then a bright flash of light just before…

He died.

Patrick’s eyes burst open and he shot up in bed. In total shock and confusion, he observed his surroundings.

It was a blue-painted room, with white wooden trim along the walls and windowsills, letting daylight flutter inside and illuminate the room. Posters of popular rock bands, some he had never heard of before, were pinned to the wall with thumbtacks. High school textbooks and stacks of papers sat on top of a bureau, along with other various belongings.

Directly across from him, sitting up against the window, was a computer desk. A laptop open on the desk displayed its screensaver.

It was a stereotypical teenage room. But this room seemed familiar; not in a sense that he’d been here before, Patrick had never set foot in this room in his life, of that much he was sure. But everything in this room, the color, the taste of the band posters on the wall, the song that the phone woke him up to, expressed Patrick’s personality.

Patrick looked down at himself. He was fully dressed, shoes and all. He was wearing a red football jersey, acid-washed jeans, and a pair of clean, white Nikes.

Patrick dangled his legs off the bed and his feet made contact with the hardwood floor. The last thing he remembered was dying. He and his friends were burnt to ash for sacrificing themselves to save a race that wasn’t even theirs.

He slowly got up out of the bed. Did none of any of the events over the past few weeks really happen? Did he just imagine it all? Could he really have that vivid of a dream?

If he were just waking up from a dream, surely he’d recognize his own home, because this definitely wasn’t it. Stepping quietly, he retrieved the phone that he knocked onto the floor. He didn’t even recognize this phone, but it was still worth checking out. He reassembled the battery, locked the back of the phone into place, and pressed the power button.

It refused to start up. Frustrated, Patrick set the phone down on the nightstand. To his left was a doorway to a bathroom.

Patrick flipped on the lights and made his way to the mirror. What he saw made his eyes widen.

He looked young. Granted, being twenty-one is still young, but he looked much younger than that. His hair was cut in a short, spiked style, and his face lacked any facial hair whatsoever.

Patrick ran his hands over his face, not accustomed to the lack of whiskers, his goatee, or any 5 o’clock shadow.

He felt smaller, less muscular and less tone, and his body wasn’t responding to how he was used to. Patrick pulled up his shirt and rolled up his sleeves to get a better look at himself.

The muscles gained from his military service looked like they had never formed. He was sufficiently skinnier, and less muscular than the body he died in.

Patrick held his hands on the back of his head, studying his reflection in shock. He thoroughly examined every feature of his face.

Curiosity compelled him to leave the bedroom. He opened the door and found himself staring down a hallway of a standard, upper-middle-class house. Cautiously, he made his way down the stairs. It appeared he was the only one home, but he kept his guard up. For all he new, he could be dead; this could all be a trick; his mind and his instincts weren’t about to relax just yet.

He entered the kitchen, brightly lit by a wall of windows on the first floor. Every few steps, he stumbled. Patrick wasn’t used to his body responding slower and having less mass. With one hand pressed against the wall to keep him from falling, he carefully walked towards the refrigerator.

A jumbled collection of loose photographs hung from the refrigerator door, held by a few neon-colored magnets.

Patrick crept closer to examine them.

They were family photos.

Patrick’s heart nearly stopped; it was his mother, and his father.

Patrick grabbed one of the photos and examined it closely.

A much younger Patrick, looking to be between the ages of ten and thirteen, sat in between his parents, smiling happily. They each had an arm around him, while they sat on a sandy beach. It was the same photograph that the Nightmare had shown him when it tried to negotiate with him.

“What… What is this?” Patrick stammered aloud. “This never happened. Where-Where am I?”

“You’re home, Patrick,” a gentle voice responded behind him.

Patrick jumped at the sudden presence of another, spinning around.

It was a large, white alicorn, her mane flowing back and forth with magic just as it did when she was alive. The ceiling was just barely tall enough for her to stand upright, but she took up a lot of space.

Patrick could see through her body. She was slightly transparent, as if she didn’t belong here.

“No…” Patrick stuttered. “I-I killed you! What the-I don’t-Where-“

Patrick nearly hyperventilated, before Celestia resumed speaking.

“Yes, Patrick, you did kill me. But just breathe,” Celestia cooed. “It’s all over. You’re safe now, the Nightmare is vanquished, and everything is as it should be. All thanks to you.”

“Everything?” Patrick asked. “So… That’s it?”

Celestia nodded.

“So, where am I? Am I dead?”

“No,” Celestia replied. “You’re very much alive, Patrick.”

“But, I died!” Patrick cried. “We all sacrificed oursel- Wait, where are my friends?!”

Celestia calmed him down before he nearly had another anxiety attack.

“Sorry,” Patrick broke eye contact self consciously. “I just- It’s a lot to take in.”

“Just calm down, Patrick,” Celestia said soothingly. “You are home, where you belong. This is your life as it was without me manipulating anything. The date is June second, 2010. You are currently sixteen years old.”

“I really am younger?”

Celestia nodded.

“Where are my parents, then?”

“On their second honeymoon. They will be home next week.”

Patrick shook his head, processing all this shocking information laid out before him.

“But, I thought that we couldn’t save humanity because… I killed you. How am I standing here right now, when I should be dead, too?”

“There are some things that we can’t really explain, Patrick,” Celestia smiled. “But it is because of the magic of friendship that you and your friends shared.”

Patrick blinked. He let Celestia continue speaking.

“When each of you sacrificed yourselves while bearing the Elements of Harmony, deep down in your hearts, you all wanted the same thing. You wanted to save humanity, for everything to be how it was supposed to be. The Elements heard your cries, and made it be.”

“But that letter,” Patrick pointed out. “The one I read in that artifact room. Is the world still going to end in 2042?”

“You have the knowledge of when nuclear war ends humankind, Patrick,” Celestia smirked. “I guess you’d better get to work on your presidential campaign!”

Patrick’s jaw dropped.

“What? Oh you gotta be-”

“-Kidding!” Celestia chirped. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. The look on your face was priceless.”

“That wasn’t funny,” Patrick grumbled.

“All jokes aside, it’s a little complicated to explain, Patrick. Try to imagine that a copy of humanity was created, and sent forward in time. The original, this reality that you’re in, is now on a timeline separate from the one that it and Equestria shared. Humanity can now advance indefinitely without preventing Equestria from existing.”

“Then how are you here? Are you… Dead?” Patrick asked.

“Not that I don’t think you’re intelligent, Patrick,” Celestia said. “But I don’t think that you can understand.”

“Ah,” Patrick crossed his arms. “More secrets, then.”

“It’s like Jose said about death,” Celestia explained. “There’s not enough time in the world for me to explain it to you. But no, I am not dead. Anymore.”

“Then did none of this ever happen in Equestria?”

“Oh, it happened,” Celestia nodded. “And it will probably be the most significant event in our history. But when you six wanted everything to go back to how it was supposed to be, the Elements of Harmony responded. And for everything to go back to how it was supposed to be, I needed to be alive.”

Patrick was quiet for a few moments.

“We will rebuild Manehattan and Fillydelphia. We will mourn the many who were lost. True, we could have avoided all this turmoil if you’d have just trusted me,” Celestia sighed.

“However, I forgive you for killing me, Patrick. Now that you know why I did everything, why I truly kept my plans a secret from you, I hope that you can forgive me for everything I put you through. For everything I made you witness, every intolerable act I caused you to commit, and for all the suffering you had to bear.”

Patrick thought for a moment, recalling all the pain Celestia had caused him. His parental issues, his criminal record, his military service, murdering two men, witnessing the death of his best friends, and everything that had just taken place in when she brought him to Equestria. He was shot in the shoulder, he had been struck by lightning, crashed his bike, beaten by guards, and quite possibly driven insane.

“Patrick, I am so sorry that it had to be you. That it was always you, that you were always the only thing in this universe that could save life as we know it, both humankind and ponykind. So…”

Celestia bit her lip.

“…Do you forgive me?”

Patrick simply stared at her in disbelief. She was asking for his forgiveness? He took some time to contemplate it while Celestia waiting eagerly for his response.

“Well, Celestia,” Patrick let out a heavy sigh. “…No.”

Celestia, a bit taken back, beckoned him to explain.

“I’m not trying to be bitter about it, Celestia. I mean, I wish I could forgive you. I’m trying. I really am, Princess, in every fiber of my being, trying to forgive you. I actually want to. But...”

Patrick dug his hands in his pockets.

“…But, I just can’t. After so much heartache, so much bloodshed, I am just not physically capable of forgiving you.”

Celestia frowned, but nodded understandably.

“I may never be able to forgive you,” Patrick voiced.

“-But!” Patrick spoke up. “I can thank you.”

“Thank me?” Celestia asked. “And what would it be for?”

“For saving my race,” Patrick smiled. “Even after everything you caused me to go through, I was going to die, along with the rest of my race, thirty-two years from now if you never changed my past. But now, World War III isn’t going to happen, and we can continue to exist.”

“Celestia,” Patrick took in a deep breath. “I’m truly sorry that I can’t forgive you, even after everything you did was only done to save both you and me. I know I’m incredibly selfish, and I’m a terrible person, but I’m not going to lie to you. No, I do not, and I can not, forgive you.”

It was Celestia’s worst fear come true, that even if she succeeded, that Patrick couldn’t forgive her. He obviously wanted to, but he just wasn’t capable of doing so. His explanation why made Celestia feel like she was an inch tall.

“-But, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for saving humankind. Words cannot express how grateful I am, Princess.”

Patrick held out his hand in front of Celestia. She smiled and brought her hoof forward, but it simply phased right through Patrick.

“I’m afraid I can’t shake your hand, Patrick,” Celestia’s face lifted. “I don’t belong here.”

“Oh,” Patrick shrugged. “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Come,” Celestia moved towards a door leading out of the kitchen. “There’s something I wish to show you.”

Celestia was much too big to go through the doorframe, but she simply phased right through it. Patrick followed expectantly, opening the door.

It was a spacious, two-car garage. A red, late-90’s Honda Civic sat in one of the parking spaces. On the other side of the garage, Celestia stood before a large object, a canvas tarp covering it.

Patrick approached Celestia and the covered object.

“See for yourself,” Celestia gestured to the tarp.

In one swift movement, Patrick grabbed the tarp by both hands and yanked it off, throwing it on the floor of the garage. What he saw next nearly made him faint.

A sleek, incredibly clean 2010 Honda CBR, painted a pure, glossy white, sat in front of him.

“Look in your right pocket,” Celestia pointed to his hip.

Patrick slipped his hand into his pocket and felt something. He pulled it out and let it lay flat in his palm to observe it in the light.

It was a small, jagged strip of metal, with a flat, plastic handle. On the handle, a winged emblem was engraved just above “Honda.” It was a key.

Patrick inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, making the dashboard came to life. A matching, white helmet with a gold-tinted visor hung on the left mirror.

Normally, Patrick would be running around the room in a fit of pure joy. But something still bothered him. Something that not even this bike could make him feel better about.

“What’s wrong, Patrick?” Celestia asked. “I thought this is everything you’ve ever wanted? Your parents love you, you have your life back, mankind is saved, and you even have a bike that most people your age could only dream of.”

Patrick flipped the ignition of the bike, turning it off.

“Celestia, the Nightmare told me that if you never manipulated my life, that my friends and I-“

He struggled to form a sentence.

“-That we would have never met.”

“Oh,” Celestia frowned. “I see.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes,” Celestia confessed, stepping closer to him to console him. “That is the truth. In your life that I didn’t change, none of you six ever crossed paths.”

Patrick had never felt so empty in his life. Even after the best possible outcome he could imagine, it still meant nothing without his brothers by his side.

A distant rumble of engines became closer and closer, until they became incredibly loud.

“What’s that?” Patrick voiced over the noise.

He found the garage door opener on the wall, and pressed the button.

Daylight poured into the dim, stuffy garage. Patrick took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsher light, and became speechless yet again.

Five motorcycles were parked at the end of his driveway, their engines roaring. Five riders, wearing full-face helmets, sat on them, watching the garage door rise to see Patrick staring incredulously at them.

“Hey, come on Patrick!” Jose called to him. “We don’t have all day, let’s go!”

Patrick’s heart jumped for joy. He felt himself grinning ear-to-ear, feeling as if he were about to burst with excitement.

He nervously looked at Celestia’s transparent form, and then back to his friends all waiting on him. They didn’t seem to acknowledge Celestia’s presence.

“Hurry up, man!” Louis tapped his wrist with his index finger, symbolizing a watch. “I’m only getting older!”

“I’ll admit to manipulating one little thing,” Celestia smirked.

“Now I really wish I could forgive you,” Patrick laughed.

He threw his leg over the bike in his garage, sticking the key in the ignition again and starting the engine.

It turned over quickly, the spark plugs sputtering as it began to idle, and became a stable, warm hum.

“I know that I can never take back everything that I did to you,” Celestia’s mane flowed back and forth. “But I can take away all the memories, including those of your military service, of everything, so they won’t plague your heart anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Patrick slipped the helmet on his head and began buckling the strap. “I’ll keep them.”

“I don’t understand,” Celestia shook her head. “Why would you want to keep those memories, after how much pain they caused you? I’d think you of all people would love to live just a normal, happy life, Patrick. Wouldn’t you be happy to forget them?”

“Sure,” Patrick sat on his bike.

“Then, why don’t you?”

“Because,” Patrick squeezed the clutch and shifted into first gear.

“I have a feeling- It’s going to be a good day.”

His engine roared, and the bike jerked forward.

Tires squealing, Patrick shot out of the garage and down the driveway, coming to a halt just next to Jose, his face partially obscured by his helmet.

“It’s gonna’ be a good day, man,” Jose smiled.

“Yeah,” Patrick felt tears of joy freely dripping down his face. “It is.”

Jose swept his hand across Patrick’s helmet, flipping down his visor. He reached over Patrick’s handlebars to flip the kill switch and shut off Patrick’s engine.

Jose revved his engine loudly while he, Ryan, Spencer, Louis, and Joe all sped off, coming to a stop a block up the street.

“Hey!” Patrick flipped his visor back up. “Not cool!”

Jose laughed, watching as Patrick started up his bike again to catch up with them.

Celestia smiled as she watched them disappear down the street. She could finally return to Equestria and the living world at peace, knowing that everything was as it should be.

“It’s going to be a good day,” Celestia murmured as she faded away from the human universe.

“I can feel it.”

The end

Afterword

Hey guys, Molotov Cocktail here, author Of Whiplash.

Now that the story's over, there's a few things I can say. ~~The first is that no, there's not going to be a sequel. Whiplash is done, and I intend for it to stay that way.~~ Oops I lied.

Some people were asking about alternate endings and epilogues. I'm not going to rule those out, but it's highly unlikely I could make either at this point because I'm about to enter military service, so I think it's safe to say ~~you're probably not going to see anything new from me.~~

I want to talk about the flashbacks for a second. I wanted to tell a human story as well. And the flashbacks allowed me to do that. I hope you enjoyed reading them.

I know a lot of it was kind of cynical or depressing, I went through a lot of stuff while I wrote some chapters and I'm sorry that I let my writing reflect that.

And no, Patrick is not me, nor is he my wish fulfillment character. I wrote about things that interest me and that I know about: Guns, military, motorcycles, racing, and my city. However, Dreads and Spencer are based on real people. Some of the flashbacks are, too, but I'll let you use your imagination to decide which ones.

All I can really say about myself is that I'm 18 years old (I was 17 for most of the time I wrote Whiplash.) And yes, I do ride. I have a Yamaha R6. I like motorcycles, racing, writing, photography, guns, and road trips.

The idea for Whiplash isn't considered by many to be the most original. And I'd have to agree, almost every [HiE] follows the human falls to Equestria, shit happens, (s)he saves the world. I'm just happy I was able to finish the story. Although, I didn't really know the direction of the rest of the story until 5-6 chapters in. I kind of wish I'd have named the story either "Remembrance" or "In Memoriam."

Whiplash was a big learning experience for me. Looking back at how much my writing has improved since I began the story, it's really mind-blowing to me. But that's a huge reason of why I wrote this story for the past 7 months: Constructive criticism and improvement. I'm trying to get into a photojournalism field, and by you guys giving me criticism and feedback, my writing skills improved over time and that was one of my goals out of writing this.

Like or hate the story, thanks so much for reading! I'm humbled Whiplash got the response that it did. And thanks to my pre-readers:

Sweetie_Belle_Derelle (Fimfiction)
Sandman (Fimfiction)
Nailbudday (Deviantart)

I couldn't have done it without you guys.

I hope you enjoyed reading Whiplash as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Things I don't really want to say but I know I should:

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyrighted by Hasbro Inc. and their respective owners. I wrote this work of fanfiction without the intent of gaining any profits other than feedback, nor do I claim to own any of the characters, settings, ideas, etc. portrayed by the show. (TL;DR: Please don't try to sue me. I don't have very much money because I've spent it all on motorcycles and you'd probably be wasting your time.)

I do not condone any illegal motorsport activities nor do I participate or have any knowledge of its happenings or whereabouts.

Many a cup of coffee and Rockstar were consumed in the making of this story.

Live free.
-Molotov Cocktail

Chapter 10

“He’s breathing!”

...

…

“Nurse! …..Grab me two….. Oxygen!”

…

“Hurry, I need oxygen!”

…

Patrick's eyelids budged ever so slightly.

He drifted in and out of reality. One moment, he was in the future, surrounded by ridiculous talking ponies with flamboyant personalities.

The next moment, he was covered in white sheets, looking down at his boots, his jacket and pants, road-rashed and bloodstained, while his lungs forced air in and out of his chest. An IV tube was hooked into his arm, pumping a strangely colored substance into it.

It was a human hospital. With human doctors and human nurses. Several medical staff were crowded around Patrick, one of them giving Patrick oxygen out of a clear facemask while he slumped over in the hospital bed.

“Better?” the doctor asked.

“Uh-huh,” Patrick managed to choke out anti-climatically.

“We thought you’d never wake up!” a nurse rambled on in disbelief.

Patrick could barely even keep himself from fainting.

“What… How…. What...” Patrick panted, before the doctor gave him more oxygen.

“You took a nasty spill on that motorcycle, young man,” the nurse, sporting a heavy southern accent, informed him.

Patrick stared around in confusion, questioning the reality he was in. Was none of that real? Did none of it even happen?

This was logical, for him to go into a coma and create his own reality or some such, but why ponies? Why “Equestria?” He never even knew what that was to begin with, he never had a burning passion for ponies in his subconscious that would bring him to create that world in a coma. Something was off.

“Uh, d-doctor?” Patrick asked.

The doctor’s back was turned, and he was busily typing down information onto a laptop nearby. Several heartbeat monitors beeped in rhythm from rooms adjacent to him.

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“Um, what year is it?”

The doctor spun around, his face had changed from a generic, Caucasian male, to the gnarled, burnt face of his best friend.

On Jose’s head was a standard-issue MICH combat helmet, with a burnt and torn desert-ACU sleeve. What frightened Patrick the most though was not his cracked, burned, and lifeless skin, but the fact he was missing an eye.

“No…” Patrick, still connected to the IV retreated out of the bed in fear.

“You…” Patrick pointed his finger at Jose’s walking corpse. “You died! I saw you die!”

He backed himself against the wall, inching towards the door, but Jose blocked his path.

“Just let me go, man! I just want out of all this!” he pleaded.

“I wish it was that easy,” Jose said, reaching behind his back. He extended his arm out, aiming a pistol directly at Patrick’s head.

“I’m really sorry about this.”

“NO!”

BANG

Black.

BANG!

Twilight shuddered after she released that ball of magic; a simple, yet effective self-defense spell. It hurled toward Patrick and struck, him, knocking him to the floor as he cried out in pain. Her eyes shot over to Celestia, fearing the worst. But she remained unscathed, still standing as her mane flowed back and forth.

She was alive.

A cold, hard marble floor pressed up against Patrick’s face. He lay flat on the ground, his skin crawling in agony. He ached, he bled, and he burned. Oh, how he burned. He remembered pulling the trigger, and then everything cut to black. Twilight was definitely not bluffing earlier, he realized.

Before Patrick realized what he did, it was too late. A burning rage fueled by his desire for revenge had taken over him, and pulled the trigger. His next move would be to blow his own head off in front of dozens of innocent bystanders. That was how he was going to be remembered, that was his destiny.

The Glock 23 recoiled in his tight grip, smoke lazily drifted out of the muzzle of a handgun in desperate need of a good cleaning and oiling. Patrick’s eyes remained forward, locked with the bitch that was responsible for who he was today. Patrick did not have the mindset of a murderer. He has never desired to end anyone’s life… Until today. He was ready to see Celestia drop.

The bullet stopped in midair; smashing into a transparent, pink force field that suddenly encased the air around Celestia. It was then that he could see Celestia’s horn glow very faintly, almost unnoticeably.

As soon as that round left the barrel, Twilight had attacked him. He could smell his flesh burn, the same smell when he first arrived here.

He looked up, seeing the white alicorn staring down at him. Twilight’s horn had ceased glowing, and dozens of guards were surrounding him, getting ready to tackle him while still on the ground.

Patrick shot her. He knew he did. He aimed directly at her forehead and pulled the trigger. But there was no wound. He even picked out the shell on the floor nearby. The weapon DID fire, there was no denying that.

And his trusty, loyal Glock 23 remained in his loose grip, as dozens of unicorn and pegasi guards converged on him, leaving Patrick with only a split second to decide, and he may not get a second chance.

Commit suicide and spare himself the justice for his crime, or keep shooting?

Sometimes, you just have to keep it real.

Patrick squeezed the trigger again, another blast echoing around the throne room. His entire body seized up as unicorn magic began to take hold over him.

BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG

Patrick desperately tried to hit Princess Celestia with a round, as his body was succumbing to the grip of unicorn magic. Several spent shells clanged to the floor, rolling away.

A transparent, pink bubble rippled as each round hit it, stopping it in midair several feet from the princess. The rounds smashed into the force field, powered by alicorn magic, causing deep cracks to run down the points of impact. The result was similar to shooting a wall made of bulletproof glass.

He popped off rounds wildly, but it was clear that he was not going to be able to get his revenge. Time for Plan B.

As he hit the ground again, Patrick fought to angle the weapon so it pointed through his head. He shrank back in horror when none of his limbs were responding, it felt as if an invisible force was holding his arms and legs still.

His weapon was ripped from his hands and went sliding across the floor out of reach.

“Grab him!” a pair of Royal Guards tackled the human assassin, flipping him over onto his belly, taking no care to avoid making his injuries any worse than they already were.

Patrick’s head was slammed to the ground, making him dizzy for a few moments. Celestia and Luna’s forms were getting further and further away. He blinked, and found himself being dragged by several armor-clad pegasi.

It wasn’t the fact that the ponies that saved his life just watched him try (And fail) to kill their beloved princess that really hit home, it was the expression on Celestia’s face. It was unchanged since he pulled the weapon on her in the first place.

Bland, emotionless, yet firm and in control, with a hint of sorrow. She stared into his eyes as he was dragged from the throne room.

Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy were huddling together, Pinkie’s mane deflated and her eyes squeezed shut. It was the one time she didn’t have a bubbly remark to try and lighten up the situation. Murder was almost unheard of in most ponies’ lives. Applejack and Rarity simply stood in awe.

“Wait!” Rainbow Dash tried to get to Patrick, but several Pegasi Guards held her down.

“Let me go! Just wait a second!” Rainbow Dash growled, but her struggle was in vain.

Twilight Sparkle’s horn gradually grew dimmer, her legs shaking in shock of what just happened. She had the potential to kill Patrick, but not the will. She had held back, and merely disabled him. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Patrick drop to the ground after attacking him with a self-defense spell, one she had hoped she’d never need to use.

She couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. She and her friends had saved his life, but it was she that brought Patrick to Canterlot. And the strange creature from the past that she had opened her home to could have killed any of them at any time. Spike was right, he was dangerous. Patrick was a soldier, trained in the art of human warfare, with an unstable mind.

Although she was relieved that no blood had been spilled, that still left her with the thought of what was to become of Patrick. Canterlot only executed those guilty of only the most serious of offences, and attempted assassination of the royalty was one of them.

But Patrick’s situation was a bit different. He had a right to be mad at Celestia. She ruined his life, how could he not be angry?

But Celestia only did it for the greater good of the world. Patrick played a part in Celestia’s plan to finally get rid of the Nightmare and protect Equestria. Maybe, if Patrick just showed a little remorse, everything would work-

“I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch!”

-…Out.

“I swear!” Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs as the Royal Guard subdued and dragged him out of the throne room. “The first opportunity I get, you’re gonna get to go tell my friends why you murdered them in person! I. WILL. FUCKING. KILL YOU!”

The Royal Guard threw Patrick in a cell, located at the far end of Canterlot Castle’s dungeon. The cold, stone floor scraped his arms as he tried to catch himself.

The cell itself was barely ten feet wide. It featured a small, barred window, and a wooden mattress with a blanket and pillow for a bed. A foul-smelling hole in the corner was undoubtedly the restroom. The front wall consisted completely of iron bars. A gate, featuring a gigantic, intimidating lock, allowed for access in and out of his new prison.

Two unicorn guards stood over him, watching his every move. They appeared to be waiting for somepony.

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights?” Patrick exhaled weakly.

“Shut up!” One of the guards kicked him in the ribs. Patrick laughed the pain out, succeeding in pissing off the guards even more. Cops never liked him in the past, and they sure as hell didn’t like him in the future.

Before the guards could deliver another blow, an important-looking pegasi guard strolled into the cell. His golden armor was different than that of the other guards’. His headdress featured a red thistle, similar to Roman soldier’s helmet, along with more elegant patterns engraved into his helmet and chest plates.

“Well, well, well,” the guard spat. “Son, you just buried yourself.”

“Good,” Patrick coughed. “I was going to kill myself, but you guys were too fast.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to send you off without a little of our hospitality, eh boys?” the guard chuckled to his comrades.

“Oh, you know it, lieutenant,” the unicorn that kicked Patrick replied. “After you.”

“So, I don’t get the right to a fair trial?”

Patrick’s response was a hoof to the side of his head.

They took turns beating him, his hands tied behind his back. Normally, Patrick would be crying out in pain and trying to squirm away. But he had lost the will. They were going to beat him to death for their own amusement, and he was just going to let them.

Patrick felt like a bag of meat. Ever since he got here, he’s been a punching bag for Mother Nature, a manticore, and a smug colt whose name was currently second on his “shoot to kill” list, all at the expense of Celestia herself. Twilight’s self-defense spell didn’t help, either. How could he go through so much physical trauma and still be alive?

Although, he was rather used to having the crap beaten out of him by now. With everything that had happened, his will was completely and utterly broken. Patrick was ready to die.

“Not even going up a fight?” the lieutenant pulled Patrick to his feet as a crowd of guards began cheering him on. “Come on then, you still got two legs!”

Patrick deliriously swayed back in forth, blood dribbling from his nose and pooling on his chin. The wound kept closed by the stitches in his chest was beginning to trickle a warm fluid, while fresh wounds and burns prevented him from striking out.

“Sorry, Nurse Redheart,” Patrick thought.

The guard reeled back, ready to buck Patrick square in the jaw. Patrick closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.

“Say good-bye to your teeth!” the guard shouted. Patrick held his breath and braced himself.

The guards crowding inside and outside the cell were cheering loudly as ever, when a powerful, all encompassing voice interrupted them.

“ENOUGH!”

Everypony spun around. A white alicorn stood just outside the cell, watching the scene her guards put on. The guard currently beating Patrick froze, his hind legs in mid-air barely a foot from Patrick’s face.

“I wouldn’t expect this from one of my lieutenants,” Celestia glared at the important-looking Pegasus.

“Your highness!” he stammered. “This… This isn’t what it looks like. We were merely-“

“I’d like to speak with the prisoner alone,” Celestia interrupted.

A few moments went by, and the guards simply stared at each other.

“That means now.”

“But, your highness,” the lieutenant argued. “Did he not just attempt to assassinate you?”

“I wish to speak with the prisoner alone. Please exit the dungeon. Now,” Celestia’s tone became firm.

“Of course, my apologies, uh, your royal, um…” The lieutenant quickly made his way out of the cell as the other guards scurried away behind him, leaving only Celestia and Patrick present.

Celestia watched as the human she was so familiar with could barely keep his balance. If she hadn’t intervened, they surely would have beaten him to death. And there was still hope yet, even if he did know the truth. He just needed to trust her.

“Patrick, I’m so sorry,” she spoke gently. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Patrick said nothing, his hands still tied. He awkwardly braced his back against the wall and eased himself down, looking at the shoes Rarity had painstakingly made for him.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to kill me,” Celestia said. “I just wish you could understand. I wish I could tell you.”

Patrick still remained silent, determined not to say a single word to her. The only revenge he could get at the moment was making her feel terrible about what she did. And it seemed the more she talked, the worse she felt.

“I just want you to know how truly sorry I am,” Celestia broke eye contact. She frowned, still unable to get a reaction out of Patrick.

“Do you know why my student, Twilight Sparkle, has been studying friendship since the Nightmare Moon incident?”

Patrick made no attempt to acknowledge her.

“Because, even after it took a thousand years to find you, and cast the spells necessary to change your life, I still tried to find a way to use the Elements at their full capacity, without needing you and allowing you to live your life.”

“What was my life like if you hadn’t intervened?” Patrick suddenly spoke up.

This was a question she fully well knew the answer to, but would probably regret answering.

“Well,” Celestia bit her lip. “You grew up. You had two, loving parents. You graduated at the top of your class. You studied law, and became quite wealthy. You married, you had a beautiful, baby girl. And all the while, you had a motorcycle in your garage since you could hold a driver’s license.”

Patrick continued to look at the floor.

“You and your family moved to California. San Diego, to be exact. You bought your parents a house on the beach, like they’d always dreamed of. You meant the world to so many people, Patrick.”

“That hardly makes me feel any better,” Patrick grumbled.

Celestia’s mane rippled as she stepped closer to Patrick.

“I’m assuming you read the articles in the Artifact Room, from the New York Times?”

Patrick’s silence could only mean, “yes.”

“You died of direct exposure to nuclear radiation, among millions of others. You were forty-eight years old.”

“And how do you expect me to kill the ‘Nightmare’ when I don’t even know what it really is? If you can change the past, then why don’t you save my people? Why don’t you just change the past so that this ‘Nightmare’ doesn’t even exist?”

“Because,” Celestia sighed. “I have taken a thousand years to explore every option, you were the only one that wouldn’t prevent Equestria from existing. If I saved humanity, then Equestria would not exist.”

“Oh, I get it,” Patrick said belittlingly, realizing Celestia had succeeded in getting him to talk. “You won’t save my people, but you want me to save yours.”

He just needed to remain quiet, and then hang himself with his shoelaces as soon as she left. The guards may have searched him for any other concealed weapons, but they left all his clothing on. Patrick imagined the Royal Guard when they found him hanging from the ceiling. They’d probably try to bust him open like a Piñata.

“It’s… The truth,” Celestia actually felt herself intimidated by the human for a moment. Only for a moment.

“I don’t really give a fuck,” Patrick growled, tending his bloody nose. He just wasn’t able to stay silent.
“You ruined my life. You made my father beat me. You made him beat my mom for so long, she ended up in the mental hospital, and he ended up in jail for domestic violence. You made me kill people. And you killed my best friends, so you could save your world and still let mine die, all at my expense.”

“I can’t save humanity, Patrick,” Celestia said.

“Only you can,” she wanted to say. If only it were that easy.

“The Nightmare has prevented me from doing so. While I was able to manipulate certain events in the past, in your past, without it noticing, it could have stopped me at any time.”

“Fuck you,” Patrick turned his back to Celestia. “Just leave me alone.”

Celestia sat down next to him. She was so close, her flowing mane brushed up against him several times.

Patrick wouldn’t even look at her. If his hands weren’t tied, and if he weren’t beaten to a bloody pulp for the fifth time this week, he’d get up and strangle the fuck out of her, knowing full well she would just stop him with another magic force field or some other spell.

She bent her head down, her horn just barely poking Patrick in the chest. A green light emanated from her horn, and Patrick’s body relaxed.

It felt like he was sleeping, while wide-awake. There were no words Patrick could describe for the feeling that came over him. It was… Health.

Celestia cast a simple healing spell. While Twilight and several other unicorns had tried, healing spells did not seem to work on humans. Some spells simply had no effect on them. It was as if they had their own sense of magic that blocked certain sources. Celestia spent centuries trying to study human magic, but there were no artifacts that held the answers. Humanity had long forgotten its own sense of magic by the time Patrick existed, as well. Whatever magic a select few still knew how to use at that time was referred to as “voodoo” or “Satan worship.”

Like human magic, alicorn magic was different, as well. It was all encompassing, and able to rise against any other source, except that of another alicorn, or human. Celestia drew the health back into Patrick’s battered human body as he watched himself heal in disbelief.

The stitches in Patrick’s chest undid themselves, as the wound closed and new skin materialized before his very eyes. His burns turned from wilted, red skin, to his healthy skin tone.

Each and every scrape, burn, wound, even the tapeworm Patrick didn’t even know he had, was cleansed from his system. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he was healthy. He was able bodied. He could walk. He could run. He could jump. He could fight.

Celestia used her magic to undo the rope tying his hands behind his back. Patrick ran a hand down his arm, feeling silky smooth skin, instead of rough, dead skin tissue.

“I’m,” Celestia stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

Patrick squeezed his hands open and shut in shock, feeling able-bodied strength (That he would never take for granted ever again.) return to him so quickly. Nothing ached, nothing was sore. It was an odd feeling to be so healthy after becoming so used to being injured.

Celestia exited the cell, the gate closing behind her.

“I will… Be back to check on you.”

Patrick looked away. Healing the wounds she caused in the first place was not going to make him turn into Pinkie Pie for her.

“We need you, Patrick. Equestria needs you.” She turned around and left the cell.

"Hey, Celestia," Patrick called.

"Yes, Patrick?"

"I'm still going to kill you..."

She stared at him for a few moments in disbelief, shaking her head as she disappeared around a corner.

Patrick rolled his eyes and brushed her off. As soon as he heard the main gate to the dungeon close, he rose to his feet, stretching his limbs and pacing around the small cell.

There was one urge in his mind that rang louder than his desire for revenge or suicide: He wanted to run. He wanted to run as fast as he could, for as long as he could. Patrick loved to run, he loved speed, which is what drew him to motorcycles in the first place.

But he was cramped into a cell where he could simply stand up and touch the ceiling. Thankfully, he had some privacy at the moment, since Celestia obviously didn’t trust her guards around him after they displayed such hostility.

Patrick looked down at his shoes, the laces tied in neat bows. They had gone from a clean black to a dark, earthy tan from running around in the Everfree Forest the other night. He slowly untied the laces, and began stripping them off his shoes.

“Patrick!”

Rainbow Dash’s face popped up from behind the bars of the small window.

“Oh… It’s you,” Patrick couldn’t even look her in the eye, feeling too ashamed. “Just leave me alone.”

“No, listen to me!” Rainbow Dash beat her wings to keep herself level with the cell’s window.

“You have every right to be mad, I wouldn’t have stood for that either after what she did to your friends, your parents and your life! I don’t care what they’re saying about the Nightmare, that wasn’t right and she knows it!”

Now that Patrick had calmed down, and Celestia had healed him, he found it easier to think clearly.

“She had her reasons, she just wants to save the world. Your world, anyway.”

“I know, Twilight told me about the newspaper article she read in that room you guys found,” Rainbow Dash replied. “She’s a wreck right now, by the way.”

“Aren’t you the element of loyalty or something? Why would you go against your princess for me?”

“I may be the element of loyalty,” she crossed her arms in mid air. “But I’m not going to be loyal to a princess that totally ruined my friend’s life!”

“So, what are you gonna’ do about it?” Patrick challenged her.

“I-“ Rainbow Dash stammered. “I’m bustin’ you out, that’s what I’m gonna’ do about it!”

“Thanks,” Patrick shook his head, and sat down on the hard, wooden mattress that was to be his bed. “But I don’t really think I have it in me go through all the effort to escape. Where am I supposed to go? If the princess can find me in the past, she can surely find me here.”

“I bet Twilight knows how to block a locater spell,” she said.

“I seriously doubt she’s going to want to help me after I just tried to kill her mentor,” Patrick replied.

“Just forget about me, unless you want to watch me hang myself,” Patrick finished undoing his shoelaces, doubling them up to improve their strength.

“You might want to leave.”

“WHAT?!” Rainbow Dash gasped. “No, don’t do that. Please, I can bust you out. I’ll get you out of here in ten seconds flat, honest!”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick sighed. “This is all just too much for me.”

“Wait!” Rainbow Dash frantically tried to fight her way into the cell. She had to talk him out of it. Otherwise he was going to commit suicide right in front of her.
“What would your friends think about this?”

Patrick froze.

He immediately dropped his crude means of self-inflicted death and sat criss-cross on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“I’m going to ask them.”

“Are you going to meditate?” Rainbow Dash turned her head.

Patrick closed his eyes and remained silent, trying to remember what Zecora taught him about meditation.

“Uh, cool, you do that,” she said, just glad he wasn’t about to wring his own neck. “I’ll be back soon. I’m getting you out of here!”

Patrick nodded to acknowledge her, his eyes still shut. Rainbow Dash took off. She had much to do, and very little time.

It wasn’t easy, but Patrick pushed the anger out of his mind, allowing him to think unbiased thoughts about his situation. For the first time since hearing what Celestia was responsible for, he actually considered helping her.

Quickly, though, he repressed that thought. She wouldn’t save his people, why should he save hers?

She claims that she can’t save humanity, but that Patrick can save ponykind. There was still so much that was unclear, and she still hid so much from him, he could tell. If she would just give it to him straight, then maybe it he would feel more inclined to put aside his differences and help her.

As clear thoughts, completely void of anger finally circulated in his mind, he felt at peace. And a familiar presence entered his mind, just what he was hoping for.

A conscious thought that was definitely not Patrick sat in the middle of his mind, eagerly waiting for him.
Instead of taking the time to examine the thought and try to find out what it was, he welcomed it. Patrick didn’t hesitate this time to try to communicate with the thought, in the form of a familiar voice, that was not his own.

“Okay,” Patrick called out to the thought. “I know I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” a familiar voice agreed with him. “Of all the stupid things I’ve seen you do, that was the icing on the cake.”

“How can you say that?” Patrick asked. “She murdered you! Wouldn’t you be the least bit angry, too?”

“We’ve had thousands of years to get over it, Pat,” the voice answered.

“So, you haven’t ever felt like haunting her, or throwing pots and pans at her head, or… Something?” Patrick asked.

“Okay,” the voice sighed, sounding a bit irritated with him now. “Forget everything you know about ghosts, heaven, hell, the devil, and the afterlife in general. It doesn’t work like that.”

“So, how does it work?” Patrick said. “How am I even able to talk to you?”

“There isn’t enough time in the world for me to explain it to you. You’ll find out, eventually. Everyone does. It’s just something you have to experience for yourself.”

“Let’s just leave it at that, then,” Patrick replied.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Well, I tried to kill their princess. After what she did to me, to you…”

“She has good intentions,” the voice said.

“I know. But I just don’t have the will. I can’t help her. I just can’t.”

“Listen,” the voice paused dramatically. “If you knew what was at stake, you would understand each and every move that Celestia made.”

The familiar voice calling Celestia by name sounded a little peculiar.

“How much do you know?” Patrick asked.

“Enough to know that you should stop being such an asshole, and help them. Regardless of what Celestia did to you, your life, and us. There are some things you’re better off just not knowing.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You’ll be telling me anyway in a few minutes when I hang myself.”

“If you do that, then every human being that ever existed is going to kick your ass when you get here. And mine, because I didn’t do my job.”

“What?”

“Think about it. You’re the last surviving human being. You’re talking to someone who died thousands of years ago. Where do you think the rest went?”

“…Right,” Patrick did the math. “Okay, I get it. But, what’s your job?”

“To guide you,” the voice spoke softly.

Patrick fell silent at this.

“Basically,” the voice said. “You have to have the right motives for everything to work. You have to make this decision completely on your own, and it has to be a selfless, unbiased one.”

“… Please, just tell me straight-up.”

“Nope. I can’t influence any choice you’re supposed to make.”

“Of course,” Patrick muttered.

“Remember, no matter where you go or what happens, we’re right behind you. Whenever you need me, you know how to reach me.”

“Is it going to be a good day?” Patrick asked.

“Oh yeah,” the voice answered.

“It’s gonna be a good fucking day.”

A chaotic situation was beginning to unfold in Canterlot Castle, the very one Celestia had tried to prevent. Someone who had lost it all had given up, and didn’t even care to live anymore. Much to the delight of an ominous presence, watching from a safe distance.

The Nightmare, as it was known, was given only one purpose. It was those who came before that gave it that purpose, and that was to balance the power of two other alicorns it “supposedly” shared Equestria’s reign with.

After those who came before did their job, they abandoned this Earth. They made one, colossal mistake, however.

They gave “The Nightmare” freewill.

Just as they did to the royal sisters responsible for taking care of the damaged sun and moon, the altered orbit, all caused by a race that destroyed their own world.

True, the Nightmare had once been an Alicorn, but it had abandoned that inferior race long ago. It could still be considered one, it could be considered anything, for that matter. The Nightmare could be whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted. It is for that reason the relationship between the two royal sisters and the Nightmare had always been tense.

Almost a millennia ago, a certain alicorn was moping about the Everfree forest, one of the only places the Nightmare could move undetected by that blasted Celestia, the only pony that could pose a threat.

“I can give you what it is that you desire,” the Nightmare whispered in Luna’s ear. “She will never respect you, she will always treat you like a child. Equestria will never love the night like they love the day. You will always be second to her. But I can change that.”

“And what is it that you request of me?” Luna, neck bent, stared into her eyes in the reflection of a pond.

“Why, I would like nothing more than to see you get the respect and adoration your night deserves. All I ask… Is that we become a bit… Closer.”

Chills ran down Luna’s spine, as a dark, foreboding presence entered her mind. Still staring into her own eyes as the water danced back and forth, they changed from a royal blue, to a bright, glowing turquoise, the irises reminding her of a dragon’s pupils. If Luna’s own jealousy wouldn’t have gotten to her, she could have destroyed the Nightmare right then and right there. She would not remember this, as the nightmare slowly took over, inheriting Luna’s desires and manipulating them to its own.

And, as Nightmare Moon, she almost took over Equestria. Luna and the Nightmare were one and the same, with the Nightmare in control. And there was no magic powerful enough to separate them.

Except, of course, the Elements of Harmony.

Those who came before may have made the Nightmare more powerful, but they gave the royal sisters a refuge that would allow them to banish the Nightmare in the event it did turn evil, almost like a time-out. But that’s all it was: Temporary.

And while the Elements of Harmony could, when used by Celestia or Luna, banish the Nightmare with relative ease, neither of them had authoritative magic strong enough to “kill” the Nightmare.

And this time was different. The Nightmare had Luna, and Celestia surely wouldn’t banish her own sister. She would save her sister and allow the Nightmare to go free, end their lives, and take over.

But she did.

And the Nightmare spent a thousand years, still controlling its royal host, full of jealousy, contempt, and everlasting sorrow. The stars would aid in her escape soon enough, and give the Nightmare plenty of time to plan.

Celestia obviously did that out of desperation. Without the Nightmare’s presence to interfere, she was free to look anywhere for a solution, even a different time, even without her sister.

The Nightmare had planned for this, sacrificing a bit of its magic that would linger behind. It prolonged its escape, but it undoubtedly prevented its certain demise upon return.

By theoretically “blurring” the timeline; an act of desperation just before banishment; the Nightmare was able to eliminate the possibility that Celestia would reach those who came before. It would take Celestia more than a thousand years to cast the spell to even contact them, and the Nightmare would surely be back by then. Therefore, she needed to look elsewhere.

After being “defeated” by the Elements of Harmony for second time, in this instance powered by the magic of friendship, the Nightmare fled.

It fled Celestia’s wrath, knowing very well it could be banished again at any moment, no matter how powerful the Nightmare was made out to be.

After spending months in hiding, lying dormant, yet ever present, the Nightmare happened upon something that would have made it grin ear to ear, had it had a face at the time. A very peculiar human had found its way to Equestria; injured, broken, and hopelessly lost.

The Nightmare was suspicious that Celestia had something to do with this. There had to be a divine reason behind it. But if it revealed itself again, only to find Celestia was not intervening, and destroyed this human, it risked banishment.

However, maybe it wouldn’t need him, after all. Whilst lurking in the Everfree forest, it happened upon something much more useful: A long-forgotten testament of human warfare.

It was not uncommon to find these ancient, “human” ruins all about Equestria. But this one was different. Quite different.

It was unmistakably a military complex.

After thousands of years, this incredibly fortified structure was entombed by the Earth’s surface. It was an architectural masterpiece of stone, concrete, and steel. Almost everything had been destroyed since humanity’s end, but this structure was designed to last. Designed to withstand time, it protected the world from its dangerous contents: Weaponry leftover from a devastating war.

Dozens of dead rats, insects, and other creatures struggling for life that had been so unfortunate as to stumble upon this complex littered the floors, rooms, and corridors. Not even moss, nor ivy, nor roots, nor vines could grow in this dark labyrinth of crumbling tunnels and long, open spaces.

There was a certain poison in the air here, which did not affect the Nightmare in its current form. But there was a symbol that the Nightmare had grown to like very much, when discovering dozens of rooms with these symbols plastered everywhere. Hundreds of containers, shaped in long, aerodynamic canisters, had been stored by those who designed them, in desperation that they would not cause harm for any future life that managed to survive the aftermath of their war when the facility's technicians were unable to dispose of them.

Warnings, posted in more than one language, were posted all across this structure, indicating what these substances were, what they did, and what they were intended for. All featured three triangular shapes, arranged in a peculiar fashion around a single, round dot, and a common word.

RADIOACTIVE

Chapter 1

"Death is a great revealer of what is in a man, and in its solemn shadow appear the naked lineaments of the soul." ~E. H. Chapin

There was nothing. At first, it was incredibly bright. But then, it got dark. Very dark. And nothing happened.

"Is this death?" A thought echoed in the abyss.

Overwhelmed by the nothingness, the owner of those thoughts began to panic.

That panic was short lived. Like someone who had just survived an air strike, consciousness came back extremely suddenly.

There was a high-pitched whine in the thought-owner's ears. Light began to burn through the darkness. Outlines of trees and what looked to be a dirt road began taking shape. The birds roosting in the trees above this strange creature took flight, fleeing away from whatever force had just brought it here.

A motorcycle burst into existence from this storm of light, its rider losing control the moment the wheels touched the ground. The handlebars shook violently, threatening to dismount the rider. In a panicked, hasty decision, the rider jammed the front brakes.

It threw the rider over the handlebars and caused his bike to slide out from under him.

The sport bike; a glossy, black, aerodynamic, two-wheeled monster; roared defiantly before succumbing to the dirt. The metal and fiberglass body crashed against the ground, denting the gas tank and scraping off a line of paint. Bits of broken plastic and fiberglass littered the ground.

The rider tumbled head over heels and landed head first, dragging its torso against rocks and tree roots, helplessly rolling with the momentum. His helmet smacked the ground, a resonating THUMP echoed in the rider’s ears. If he hadn’t been wearing so much protective gear, the chances of survival would have been slim at best.

The rider lost momentum and landed on his back. He lay motionless for a few moments, and then slowly opened his eyes.

Looking up at the sky through his helmet, the rider's vision was filtered, as his mirrored visor reflected light and UV rays. From the inside, several flecks of wet blood against the tinted surface tainted the blue sky. He felt a few lines of blood drip down his face.

His eyes struggled to find focus while the pounding in his head continued to disorient him. The rider’s mind was elsewhere as his damaged body tried to process what just happened.

It was daytime, he appeared to be in the woods, that much was clear. Bolts of pain surged through the creature’s body, but it was unable to react, unable to move. An overcoming sensation of shell-shock overloaded his nervous system and kept him rooted him to the ground.

The rider breathed heavily, while a million thoughts began to circulate in his mind. As his vision began to clear, he had more use of his other senses.

It was eerily quiet, minus the sizzling of burnt wood and soil. The ground around him had been burned to a golden brown, and in places closest to the rider, black ash. Small puffs of smoke rose from particularly burned earth and tree bark. It smelled as if he were sitting in a woodstove.

Clenching his teeth in pain, the rider refused to succumb to the shock. He tenderly lifted his head, looking down his torso to his boots. There was a thick liquid creeping down his chest. A giant gash ripped through the front of his jacket, gushing warm blood. A small portion of the jacket on his left arm had been burned off, exposing the dark, burnt skin underneath.

He wheezed in and out rapidly, his breaths sounding hyperventilated in shock. His body was in so much pain, he was unable to determine what, if anything, was broken at that moment. Every part of his body seemed to throb in agony equally with each heartbeat.

His legs would barely move. His left arm felt chafed and weak, while the skin felt like it had been peeled off. Wiggling his left hand felt like a challenge. However, his right arm and neck appeared to be completely fine, minus a few burns.

"What the hell just happened?" The rider asked himself, letting out a gasp of pain with each strained breath.

The last thing the rider remembered was dark and wet. It was a stormy night; he was just trying to get away. Away from the flashing blue lights, away from the torrential rains, the gusting winds.

And then, he felt static electricity in his hair. There was a flash, and a crack. Then, everything went dark. How is it that he wakes up in some vivid, green forest on a dirt road after getting struck by lightning? This doesn't make any sense!

He tried to stand, but his legs were refusing to budge. If he didn't try to find some help soon, he'd bleed himself to death. He had to get up!

"GET UP!" his brain screamed to his legs. To which they replied: "Who said that?"

Unable to stand, the disoriented biker collapsed his helmeted head back to the ground with a thud. Fumbling with his thick gloves, the rider searched his pockets until he recovered his cell phone. All he had to do was dial three magical digits and an ambulance would whisk him off to better days.

He brought the phone up to his face. Some of the plastic had melted, and the screen was cracked like a broken mirror. Any attempt to bring life to the phone failed.

“FUCK!” the rider threw the phone away in frustration, hearing it land somewhere in the woods. No longer connected to the world, he suddenly felt overwhelmingly alone in his time of need. There were no bystanders, no EMTs, just him and his motorcycle. He was on his own.

For that matter, how was his bike looking? The rider turned his head and saw it lying gently on the grass; His bike laid motionless on its left side, a line of fiberglass debris trailing behind it. It must have stalled after he let go of the clutch, and since it was in gear, the wheels must have locked. Despite not being able to see the extent of the damage from his angle, it appeared to be in good shape. Much better shape than he was in anyway. Heat crackled off of the exhaust pipe as the metal shifted and contracted while it cooled.

As the rider continued to catch his breath, a pool of blood had collected underneath him. And suddenly, there were several footsteps. Very. Large. Footsteps.

Perhaps someone was coming to his aid? That hope was extinguished when heavy breathing and a low growl escaped from a menacing, intimidating maw. The rider and his bike rested in a clearing, and out of the woods around it, a towering, snarling beast, at first frightened by the overwhelming flash of light, was then intrigued by it. Even more intrigued when it had just brought him dinner on a silver platter. A downed and injured prey, an easy kill. The scent of blood and burnt flesh added to the scorpion-lion hyrbrid's appetite. The manticore just had some meals on wheels delivered.

The rider watched cautiously as a gigantic, four-legged monster revealed itself, smugly and ferociously approaching the injured biker. It was a lion, with batwings and a scorpion tail swinging menacingly back and fourth. It opened its jaws, showing off a set of razor sharp teeth. The manticore kept its head low, slowly advancing the injured biker unable to move.

He was too distracted to focus on his injuries to the idea of being eaten alive.

The rider reached into a holster attached to his belt, shrinking back in horror after his hand found nothing. The impact of the ground must have knock it out of the holster.

Frantically, the rider’s eyes darted around the clearing. There, not ten feet from him rested a compact, matte-black handgun.

In an act of desperation, the rider flopped on the ground like a fish, bearing the torture of dragging a potentially mortal laceration against the ground.

The manticore chuckled. It was trying to get away! It took a moment to appreciate the situation at hand, watching his prey pretend that it would do him any good to struggle. As he dragged himself away, he smeared the ground with a dark trail of vital, red fluid, only adding to its appetite.

Ten feet was nothing, but in such an injured state, it felt like miles. The rider clawed and grabbed at the ground, dragging his limp body towards survival. The manticore was no more than fifteen feet away now, and getting too close for comfort.

The rider lashed out, heaving himself the last few feet and snatching the pistol. After landing back on the ground, the rider’s vision flashed. The unspeakable pain was nauseating. He felt his lunch creeping up his throat, but pushed it back down.

The manticore continued to watch curiously, but remained threateningly present.

The rider had no idea what that thing was, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be denied the dignity of bleeding to death, to be feasted on by some two-bit offspring of an overrated cat and a bug.

He scowled under his visor. All those nasty looks he’d received from the general public after noticing a gun holstered to his waist meant nothing now. Five hundred bucks well spent.

The rider breathed in deeply, exhaling while lining up the sights right between the eyes of his hungry foe, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

The rider’s chest grew cold. His gun jammed!

The last thing he remembered before ending up in this forest was riding in the rain. Even though self-contained cartridges are waterproof, getting struck by lightning and crashing against the ground probably didn’t do the handgun any good.

Click-click-click-click-click-click.

The rider rapidly pulled the trigger in desperation, frantically trying to pull himself away. The manticore stood directly above the rider, a thick glob of saliva dribbling from its mouth. It opened its jaws, ready to sink them right into the neck of its prey.

“NO!” the rider screamed, sensing death was imminent. His heart sped up, time seemed like it was slowing down. The beast was so close, he could smell its putrid, foul breath.

The manticore brought its jaws down. The rider, in a last ditch effort to save his life, cleared the chamber, manually ejecting a dented, defective projectile and loading a new shell.

BANG!!!

A puff of white smoke exited the handgun’s barrel as an ear-shattering blast echoed across the forest.

Just before the predator’s teeth could rip into his flesh, the Glock 23 fired a .40 caliber round at several thousand feet per second, using the recoil to eject the used shell and fill the chamber with a new one.

The manticore was pushed backwards with the sheer force of the impact, but did not go down. It shrieked in pain, drops of fresh blood splattering onto the ground.

BANG-BANG

The rider double-tapped it in the head. His handgun ejected two shells rapidly at scarcely five feet, considered by some to be point blank range.

The manticore dropped in a heap, lying frozen in a lifeless slump as rigor mortis began setting in.

The rider’s hand holding the smoking weapon shook nonstop. His ears, overloaded with sound, rang constantly. He lay on the ground in total disbelief.

Exhaling loudly, he drifted back to the painful reality he was in: Bleeding. Pain. Blurred vision. Fatigue. Hyperventilation. There would be time to stress out about this later, right now he needed to focus on one thing and one thing only: Survival.

The rider lowered his weapon, sticking the muzzle back into his holster and clicking on the safety.

Blood loss began to take its toll, though. He was feeling weaker by the minute. His legs began to shake, which made his eyes widen.

He could feel his legs now! With a grunt, he wiggled his legs. Both responded. They were weak, but he was slowly getting out of shell shock. Maybe he could stop the bleeding if he found some leaves to use as bandages. One thing was clear though: Lying in a pool of his own blood wasn't doing him any favors. It only made him seem helpless to predators in this strange forest.

Gasping for breath and clenching his teeth, the rider made the agonizing ascent to his feet. Shakily, he put one foot in front of the other, cradling his left arm. He wasn't sure if it was broken, but he could barely use his fingers. He bore the pain and limped in the direction of his bike. Each dizzy, uncoordinated step was harder than the last.

The key was still turned in the ignition. The brake light was illuminated, as well as the digital instruments on his dashboard. The left side was cosmetically massacred, with deep scrapes running down the metal and fiberglass body. The turn signals dangled from the frame like an eye out of an eye socket. The windshield was cracked, clinging loosely to the bodywork. The left handlebar was slightly bent, but still ridable. The left frame-slider was chipped and filed down, but it had done its job, and prevented any structural damage. It made the rider's heart sink, seeing his baby so torn up, but there didn't appear to be any structural damage; the frame slider saved his motorcycle, minus the cosmetics. Maybe, it would be possible to ride out of here, and find help!

That seemed like the best thing to do, but how was he supposed to lift this 500-pound street machine in his current state?

Gingerly, he kicked the shifter down into neutral and pressed the starter. After a chatter of sparks, the engine started right back up.

"Oh thank god," the rider gave a sigh of relief. He quickly turned it off, however.

"I don't need to attract anymore attention," thought the rider as he turned to the slain manticore.

Just as he was about to try and heave all his strength into lifting his bike off the ground, he heard a flapping of wings, sensing another presence nearby. There was rustling in the trees, leaves shaking back and forth unnaturally.

Quickly, he turned around, letting go of his bike and unholstering his Glock again.

"Show yourself!" the biker demanded, keeping his finger on the trigger.

"Alright, alright, fine!" shouted a female, smart aleck reply. A small, horse-like animal, sporting two feathery wings and blue as the midday sky, floated down from the treetops, but remained at a safe distance.

The biker kept his weapon drawn, but not aimed directly at the flying pony. He just about dropped dead at this point.

"What the hell?!" He screamed in his mind. Its rainbow mane and tail fluttered in the breeze. Her pink eyes were as wide with wonder as his own. A rainbow clouded lightning bolt appeared tattooed on her flank.

His chest began to grow cold again. He couldn't breathe; it was all just too much. Struck by lightning, the crash, the manticore, and the flying pony above him. Just where was he? What was going on?

The blue pegasus locked her eyes on a large, bipedal creature standing over a black object. It was some sort of metal steed with two circular legs, but it seemed that without its rider, it wasn't able to stand up on its own.

The creature standing over it seemed to be wearing a lot of protective gear, or armor, as if ready for a battle. An intimidating black helmet was strapped onto its head, with a one-way mirror as its face. It hid the creature's identity, and reflected only the world around it. A garment of dark denim covered the creature's waist down to its legs. At the end of its legs were two black, heavy boots, with metal toes and heels that rose above its shins.

It was definitely male. Its figure was not too big, but definitely too masculine to be female. A black jacket, its joints and shoulders puffed up slightly, indicated that those joints were likely armored underneath. Twisted mesh wrapped over its knuckles, while red and black leather gloves encompassed the rest of its hands.

The pegasus glanced alarmingly at the manticore’s corpse, the motorcycle laying on it's side, and then back to the rider. His blood soaked clothing, limp arms and legs, splatters of blood, and burn marks all over the forest floor. She had never seen anything like it the situation laid before her.

Her mind told her to fly away as fast as she could, but her heart told her to stay. Something loving and compassionate kicked in inside of her and refused to let her abandon this creature.

Whatever it was, that mirror-faced thing had some sort of accident, and had just been attacked by a manticore. It appeared mortally wounded. What if it just needed some help?

Its hands were trembling, its one hand on the weapon shaking in fear or shock, she couldn't tell.

The blue pegasus sniffed. It smelled like something had been burned. But not wood or hay. It smelled like... Meat?

The rider stood still. This couldn't be happening. Maybe he's just delusional, maybe it's the blood loss, the shock. Sure, that's it. He was just struck by lightning, he has brain damage and none of this is happening. He's in a coma at the hospital right now.

What if it wasn't? Even if she wasn't real, he didn't care. He didn't want to die, and this hallucination was the best chance he had at not doing so. The rider licked his lips, tasting dried blood, and lowered his weapon.

"P-please," he exhaled, dropping to his knees, too weak to stand anymore.

"I need," he panted weakly. "Medical... Attention... P-please... Help."

Whatever fear was the pegasus felt subsided; he obviously just needed help. She was not just going to leave something to die, just because it looked frightening.

"Don't worry, I'll go get help! I'm the fastest flier in all of Equestria!" She stated, her tone growing concerned. "I'll be right back, I promise!"

With that, she took off like a rocket. A rainbow seemed to trail behind her, as the pegasus flew with speed she didn't even know she had.

The rider watched her fly off, a sliver of hope lingering inside of him. Maybe he would survive this after all.

His hope began to fade away after losing more blood. Darkness began eating away at his vision again. His eyes felt heavy, his breathing weak. Chills ran down his spine, making him shudder. Everything was fading into black.

And then the rider blacked out.

SEQUEL

If you're reading this, you either read Whiplash a long time ago and got a notification there was a new chapter, or you just finished the story for the first time.

So, I've been gone for two years doing st00fs, but I can't really say the nature of what I'm doing or where I am though.

In the author's note I said I wouldn't write a sequel, I wasn't going to write anything else, and I didn't really plan on coming back. I didn't know what military service was going to be like, so I just planned on that taking up pretty much all my time and focused on my career. Now I've finished a good portion of the part where it consumes all my time, and now I'm allowed to actually have a life and free time. I've had an idea in my head for a while, and I thought it might be interesting to do a sequel named Sins of the Father.

Just a heads up, I was 17 and 18 when I wrote Whiplash. There will be some things that aren't consistent with Whiplash, but they won't be dramatic or story changing. Namely, there will be alcohol, a lot more shenanigans, and the story itself I plan to be much more light hearted. I learned a lot from your constructive criticism while I wrote Whiplash. I can't guarantee my writing has gotten any better, I'm pretty rusty right now. I'm just two years older and crankier.

However, I'm writing Sins of the Father as its own story. You CAN read it without having to read Whiplash first, and also I am not going back to revise Whiplash at all.

All of you were really great when I wrote Whiplash. I did it for fun, and I'm still doing this just for fun. Military comes first, but I'll write and update when I can on the sequel. Sorry I bailed for a while!

Mosey on over to Sins of the Father, Whiplash's sequel.

-MC