Insanity

Color. A beautiful thing. Something that provides a huge impact on everyone. Something so wonderful it's unfortunate how often it is unsurprisingly overlooked. It's a part of life to most, and often its value is overlooked as it becomes so common we lose appreciation for it.  Color is simply amazing. It's a form of expression that requires no words. It can be used to express emotions ranging from hate, fear, and violence, to life, freedom, beauty, and love. Often I and countless others fail to recognize the wonder of experiencing color, and in the end we seem to take it for granted.

It was a cold day in spirit and temperature. The weather reflected the mood and clouds covered the blue sky. Most of my village was off to the front, or at home, grieving, like all the others. The rumors of war proved to be true and it wasn't long before the spirit of extreme nationalism spread like a wildfire among the people, engulfing young males and females under its influence. Few escaped the grasp of nationalism, my friends and I inclusive. I was a guard and it was my duty and honor to protect and serve, while my friends could not stand by and watch others suffer, especially when they were regarded as such high quality heroes already.

Twilight was put in charge of The Administration of Technology and Armament Innovation, her amazing use of magic and vast knowledge would now be used to take lives, or in the eyes of the Solar Empire, save them.  Flutters was now the head of the Medical Innovation and Implementation Corps, her kindness and willingness to help prevailing in these dark times. Rarity was now the head of the Department of Military Apparel, her talent of making something beautiful out of cloth, was now used to design clothes used to save lives; I had no doubt they would look great, seemingly out of place for something so terrible as war. Pinkie was in charge of The Department of Moral, undoubtable due to her natural talent of bringing a smile to everyone's face, regardless of the situation they were in. Applejack and Dash both refused to have office and management jobs, and were each given their branch of Special Forces. Applejack was in charge of the Apple Rangers, the toughest land infantry in the army, and were to be assigned to only the most difficult and important of tasks. Dash was given leadership over the Wonderbolts. Once famous for their amazing aerial speed and maneuverability, they now consisted of the greatest air force we had. Since our enemy didn’t have any aerial forces of their own, the Wonderbolts were reserved for only the most covert and important of missions since our normal air infantry can take the brunt of the enemy's attacks.

Unlike my friends, I was just a corporal in the main army. Nothing too special, but my Royal Guard duties saved me from the average soldier training and gave me a good amount of respect among my peers. I was on my way to The Black Anvil to pay Rusty a visit and collect my special request. Today was the first day we would be seeing combat and I was expected to be on transport in a few hours, so I quickened my pace through the desolate streets.

I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things, but the whole town seemed to be drained of color. The bright, cheery paint seemed dark and old, almost sad even. A few military propaganda posters were scattered among the walls, their soldiers permanently locked in a proud stance. The depressing atmosphere was beginning to get to me, but luckily I reached Rusty's shop before I had time to think about it.

A very tired looking, old, rust colored man was working on some project when I entered.

"Hey Rusty, quite looking so down, it's bad for business." I said, walking in and distraction him from his project."

"Artyom! How great it is to see you my friend, I have your secret order right here."

"And you told no-one about it and burned the designs right?" I questioned, leaning toward him slightly.

"Of course, although I must complain, such weaponry might save lives out there and you refuse to share this."

"Look Rusty, this is nothing in comparison to some of the other things I know of, that is why this must remain in only my hands. Such weaponry would only lead to bigger weapons that will take more lives. We don’t need that. I can't and won't be responsible for bringing more death that is already in store for us."

"Okay Artyom, I understand. I'll keep this between us because we are friends, but know that I do not support you in this." He answered, sighing heavily and using his magic to bring out my new weapon.

When the war was announced and people were beginning to be trained and supplied, I asked Rusty to build one the weapons I knew of. It was a simple bolt action rifle, but was a huge improvement on the black powder based weaponry that the Solar Empire still used. I occasionally stopped by and helped design the weapon based on the faded memories I still had of war and weapons.  Rusty often complained about the revolutionary design, but I forced him to keep it a secret for fear of an arms race.

I grasped the gun and examined it carefully, running my hand against the wood and steel as if I had done so countless times before. I didn’t know why this foreign object felt so familiar, but in my current situation I didn’t argue.

"How's it feel?" asked Rusty, obviously pleased with his fine craftsman ship.

I flipped the rifle over and was met with a small set of markings. Artyom's Boomstick, made by The Black Anvil.

"Glad to see you still kept the name." I laughed.

"Well that's what it was called on the blueprints and I kind of liked it." Rusty answered, laughing as well.

We shared a nice warm moment of laughter and for a second it felt like old times, when war was distant and impossible.

"I don’t like saying goodbye, so I'll see you later Rusty." I said, tears threatening to take me.

"Stay safe out there Artyom." He answered, hugging me. "Many might not show it, but a lot of folk look up to you and hope you can help save a lot of lives."

"Thanks Rusty." I hugged him back. "Keep this good old place running while I'm gone.

"You bet I will." He chuckled, tears threatening to pour from him too and I grabbed my backpack of munitions in hopes of sparring both of us the unnecessary tears.

I had a unique weapon, so I hoped the 500 or so rounds Rusty provided were enough to last. Even more I hoped I wouldn’t need to use most of them. I got back onto the streets, my new weapon shouldered, and began to make my way to the transport trains.

By the time I got there the train was already packed with sad faced recruits. Most had not seen real violence, and already they were asked to kill for their nation. There were five branches total. Army, Air force, Wonderbolts, Apple rangers, and the Lunar Ops, a special service that pulled particular members of all the other branches for Special missions. Each branch could be identified by the camo of their uniforms, and my train was full of a sad faced soldiers wearing a woodland camo.

On any other day I might be given strange looks, some might even try and fill up their seats in hopes that I would not sit near them, but today no-one batted an eye at me. I was one of them, just another soldier reporting for duty and taking on the task of sharing their burden. Odd how it takes such tragedy to bring us together. A few eyed my gun and seemed like they wanted to complain about their inferior rifles, but the gold shoulder pad, chest plating, and sword handle silenced them. I was a Guard. A superior to be looked up to. My difference as a human didn’t matter, our enemy wasn’t like them either, and as long as I used my advantages in combat for them, they didn’t care. All that mattered now was rank, branch, and your combat efficiency.

I walked through the train, past the sleeping and grieving soldiers, to look for my squad mates or anyone of my rank. Eventually I was met with an unusually cheery face on a white male soldier. He was a guard as well, but he had the mark of three small pink butterflies on his shoulder pad, indicating that he was a medic and worked with the M.I.I.C.

"Artyom! Come here sit down. I see you brought a fancy new toy, what's up? Can't settle for different so-"

"I go with different and awesome." I replied, sharing a good laugh with Patches. We had this conversation every time I got something new and different. I was glad that despite the crushing feeling of despair and looming death, Patches remained cheery and optimistic.

"You mind explaining what kind of weapon is that? You are after all close friends with six of the most important organizations. Who knows what kind of perks you get." He leaned in close and nudged me, loudly whispering: "And everyone knows what perks you get from the Wonderbolts, who knows what else they might give you."

I swear I loved Patches, but he had hell of a hard time keeping his dam mouth shut at times and it really aggravated me. A few of the other nearby soldiers, and the rest of my squad mates laughed, making me clear my throat and pull my camo cap down.

"Patches, you're doing that thing again. You know, the one where you act like an ignorant ass." This resulted in more laughter from the others and Patches smirked, crossing his arms.

"Alright alright my bad, but you want to explain as to what you have there?" He asked again.

Dammit Patches, you really need to take a hint the first time and shut up. I thought. I had hoped no-one would question my gun, but it was too late for that as my squad mates were all listening intently now, and the train was already in motion. There was no escaping this so I sighed and replied:

"You know how I'm really good at fighting right? Well, when I remembered how to do that I also remembered a lot about weaponry from wherever it is that I was from. I can't really explain, but I remember devices of mass destruction and death that make my little gun insignificant. In fact, my gun is old, outdated by new even more deadly weaponry that is too complex for me to remember fully. I only hope that we would never have to use or make the weapons I know of. So to answer your question, this is a simple gun from my memories. That is all."

The rest of my squad and a few other soldiers, recruits, listened intently. They were all curious about the stories I had to tell; they were a good distraction from the impending battle.

"Well why don’t you just give us the blueprints for the guns and we'd be done with this war much faster. Less people will die." Asked Cinderblock, a strong and hard-headed brown colored squad mate. He wasn’t called Cinderblock for nothing.

"Seems logical." Supported Ghost, another squad mate. He was a thin, lime green fellow with teal hair. His green eyes were half shut and he peered at the rest of us from the corner of his vision. He was called Ghost for more than his appearance, he could disappear better than any of us and lay down good cover fire.

I sighed, hating to have to repeat myself. "Again. If I give you this starting point it would pave way for the more dangerous weapons that I told you about earlier. High command says our enemy, these "Savages" as they're called, don’t have the same tech we have anyway. We have magic, guns, and swords. They have bows, arrows, and spears. You don’t need the fire power anyway. It's unnecessary and would eventually lead to everyone's downfall. Trust me. The little I remember about these weapons has to do with mass destruction and in some cases, genocide."

"Yea, but we'd be done faster. If we have no enemies then we won't need to evolve the weapons." continued Cinderblock. He seemed really intent on being able to kill faster and more of these "Savages."

"You'd make new ones. With that kind of firepower you'd be seen as a threat. Neighboring nations don’t like threats." I retorted.

"But-" he began again before being interrupted by our squad leader, my final squad mate, and my superior by one rank, Dog. Nicknamed Dog due to his constant barking, he was a smart guy, but lost his cool often.

"No buts Cinderblock. He's right about the weapons. Better not mess with what's not ours to mess with. If the war will call for it, we'll make our own tools for destruction." He turned to me now, seeming to take interest in my decisions. "As for you Artyom. Don’t underestimate our enemy. High command will say anything to get us into the battle. This time, they forgot to mention that our enemy outnumbers us 3 to 1. Sure, they aren't as well armed, but they do have guns of their own. As for magic. They have something equally fearful. Alchemy. Horrifying thing." Some of the new recruits began to shift uncomfortably at the announcement of more danger. "They know many recipes that can compensate for magic, but what's worse is the mutation to themselves that they can accomplish. Temporary extra strength, extreme numbness, enough to ignore bullets, and even flight via batwings if they wanted to. Never, ever underestimate them. It will get you killed." He finished and leaned back into his seat, content, and closed his eyes.

"Doesn’t matter who they are to me. No way I'm going to let them hurt our guys without going through me first." I answered.

"Amen." responded the rest of my squad mates and a few of the more confident recruits.

The rest of the ride was short as we all tried to catch what little sleep we could. That's something you learn quickly as a soldier. Sleep whenever you can, and on whatever you can.  Eventually the train slide to a grinding halt and we began piling out into trenches that were dug out by the rest of our battalion.

"MOVE IT, GO GO GO!" shouted Dog.

We obeyed him and began our long run to one end of the trench. We were on the western front, next to Tall Tale city. Our current objective was to protect the city at all costs, and when we are to crush the invading forces, to gain ground and begin our campaign on invading Savage territory.

We got to the end of the trench and immediately took up firing positions, pointing our rifles toward the direction the invading force will be coming from, and using the dugout sand for protection. We had a radio soldier stationed not far from our squad and he warned that we will be seeing action in the next ten minutes. Our air scouts have a visual and will be giving positions. Good, we had some air support.

Ten minutes. That was a lot of time in war. Enough time to make peace with yourself, or to lose it completely. I quickly gazed over my battlefield. Normally it would be a lush green field with tall grass, and the beginning of a forest would be ahead of us. Today the field was dark, dim, and almost colorless. The forest promised to protect our enemies, and thus death loomed at its entrance. I sighed, realizing how much I missed bright colors. A particular set of colors too. I leaned back against the dirt for a moment, leaving my rifle in the ready position, and took out a photograph. It was the only thing I had that still radiated as much color as it had before the war, and it comforted me.

"She'd be alright man. She's got the best of the best protecting her. Don’t worry. All that matters now is that you survive long enough to see her again." Consoled Patches. Dam I loved that guy. He always did know what to say when I needed it. "Besides." He added, sliding down next to me. "You better do more than just survive if you want to impress her."

"Dam straight." I said, putting my photo away and taking up my rifle again. "Thanks Patches." I was still worried, considering she was on the southern front, providing air support. Sure patches was right, but I still felt like I needed to protect her. Nonetheless I swallowed my concern and focused.

"That's the spirit." he answered, grabbing his own rifle behind me and the rest of the squad. He needed to stay alive so that he can make sure we did too.

"GET READY, THEY'RE HERE." Screamed the radio soldier.

We took aim. All of us were silent. Each shot mattered as it took a long time to reload. Nothing came at first, but then we began to see them. It felt like there were only a few at first, but soon more emerged. For every one of us, there seemed to be three of them, like Dog said.  Everything was tense and quiet. Neither side moved, nor made a sound, and for the first time I got to see these Savages, these monsters that threatened to take away everything that was dear to me.

They actually looked partially normal! Their autonomy seemed extremely similar to that my squad mates, and aside from their slightly bulkier frames and spikier hair, nothing seemed too out of place. The only thing that really set them aside was their color. They didn’t have the variety of colors my side did, instead all of them were stripped. Black and white stripes formed a wall that seemed inseparable. Like my side the few that had guns, aimed them, while the rest prepped their bows. The soldiers in the front wore a seemingly durable armor and clutched their machetes, waiting, their muscles tensed under the armor.

The small amount of sunlight we had was now blocked by clouds and I took aim. I zeroed in my gun on a seemingly important savage. His armor was decorated, and he stood on the frontlines confidently. Unlike the rest of my army, my range was much less limited, and my sights aligned themselves with his head. I didn’t know how good of a shot I was, but if my instincts reflected anything, then I would not miss. Time seemed to slow, the only thing I heard was the sound of metal slowly sliding against metal. I was squeezing the trigger after taking a deep breath. In the colorless field a bright flash was seen for only a second as my gun roared and I painted the men behind my target with red and goo.

The silence erupted into screaming and gunfire. I barely heard the "NICE SHOT" that was yelled my way. I had just killed my first man. The feeling was horrible. I felt like a thief. I had stolen another life. Stolen a possible father from his children, and a potential husband from his wife. I nearly puked, but with more shouting going on and the sound of death and screaming filling the air, I retook my position and began firing again. For every shot my teammates took, I took 4 out of my 5 shots.  Eventually it became mechanical. Emotions were not a factor anymore. Simply spot an enemy shooting at, or running toward my men, and I fired. Shoot, chamber, shoot, chamber.

I had gone through 6 clips of my ammo, making it 30 total bullets fired, before the savage advancement was gaining a lot of ground. Archers and marksmen hid in the trees, taking out our men one by one, while the infantry began descending into trenches. Screams of agony and pain were now louder than before. Being on the end of the trench, Ghost and I still laid down fire toward the further away savages, while the rest of my squad focused fire down the trenches.

"Dammit! Those marksmen are taking down too many of our men, we need to charge, NOW!" yelled Dog.

He was standing, yelling at us. It only took a second. A bullet penetrated right through his skull as he was shouting, painting me with my new promotion. Just like that I had watched someone close to me die. I couldn’t look away. Despite the screams and gunfire, I heard nothing. I stared at is lifeless body, motionless. Little red worms oozed out of the hole in his head. It felt like I was watching him for an eternity. Finally I was ripped from the little world that the two of us inhabited by Ghost. He and everyone else from my squad looked at me nervously, even Cinderblock was shaken.

"ARE YOU OK?" Ghost yelled.

Patches quickly examined me. He was visibly shaken, his arms nearly vibrating as they examined me.

"I… I'm fine." I finally mustered.

The shock subsided quickly, far faster than I expected it to. My brashness took control. I was mad. REAL mad. I grabbed my rifle and loaded a fresh clip. I was going to make every single one of those bastards pay.

"What do we do now?" questioned Ghost, looking to me for support. I wasn't second in command anymore, and I had the stains to prove it.

"We're going to take that forest and save our men." I answered sharply, a new emotionless tone in my voice. For once, I was glad to be crazy.

To the surprise of my squad mates I vaulted over the trench and began running to the nearest cover.

"SHIT, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" yelled Ghost, sharing the same confusion and fear that the others had.

"TAKING THE FOREST!" I yelled back.

Arrows and gunshots whizzed past me. A bullet scraped my arm, ripping shirt and flesh. SHIT THAT HURT. I leaped behind a large pile of dirt located about 30 yards from the forest. A single infantry man saw me and came running. I mercilessly aimed at his head and fired. He dropped at the same time my spent shell did.

"WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!? YOU HEARD THE SERGANT, GET GOING!" Cinderblock yelled.

He vaulted over and began to sprint toward me as well. Our actions inspired the rest of my squad, and a few more soldiers to join us. Soon our battle moved into the woods, and we were moving from tree to tree taking out hidden marksmen. I moved like a machine. Anger and adrenaline fueled my actions. I pointed, fired, took cover. Over and over. Soon my kill count had increased dramatically, and the last of the marksmen where running or being gunned down.

The fighting in the trenches, with my little group's help, was soon won as well. The screams died down, and soon only the moans of the wounded were heard. Patches was working on my arm and muttering something about me needing to be more careful. Meanwhile we all took a long break. Despite the long day, no one was hungry or tired. We had all killed today, some more than others. It was hard taking it all in. Once the adrenaline wore off, emotions and rationality came back, and with them grief and regret.

My promotion was made official, and I received a good amount of praise from everyone. The idea of this battle's victory being the result of my leadership and actions was spreading quickly. Despite the praise and acceptance, despite the good news and victory, I felt empty. We all returned to our new base camp, located behind our trench, and began to eat and share our complex emotions. I made sure my squad was settled down, and stepped outside. I found a seat next to the spot where I had seen Dog die. The spot where I took my first life. Of course Dog's body wasn’t there anymore. It was taken away like all the others, and his equipment was scavenged, but I could still feel its presence.

From the end of the trench, I could see the whole field. Arrows, swords, and a few scattered bodies still lay in the grass. All lifeless and colorless. I took a few moments to just take it all in. War was a new concept to me, to everyone. It seemed so impossible before. Nearly all off the men who now rested, were seriously affected by today. Hell, those that died might have been the lucky ones. They wouldn’t suffer like the rest of us.

I took out my photo, the only remaining piece of my sanity, and the only unstained possession I had. It really felt like it was the last sane and good thing left in this world anymore. It was the only thing that really had color to me. Out of all the things I would miss, I decided that there was one thing that I would probably miss the most. One thing that I took for granted all this time.

Color.