Whiplash

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.”