My name is Buddy

There’s a perfect depicture of black and blue throughout the skies. The weather team must have been working overtime to make it look so gorgeous; mixing colored clouds, stars so deep in the ocean above the ground, and the moon settles comfortably behind a cluster of multi-colored contrastive clouds.

I don’t care for it. I’m more of a clear-sky kind of colt, but right now, I’m not out for the sky. I’m here for comfort.

Bumping my way through the bar door, I make my way down a couple steps and find myself back where I first started.

The bar looks calm tonight, lucky for Vinyl. Only seems to be a few ponies in the corner of the bar, Vinyl’s partner in crime, and herself in all her glory.

“Sup dude!” She shouts, waving a hoof from over the counter.

I slump my way over, taking a seat on a stool.

“What can I get for ya?” She asks casually, and from the edges of my drowsy-layered eyes, I can see a grin.

“Some real heavy stuff would do right about now…” I mumble, laying a hoof underneath my chin.

A real big toothy smirk comes over her face. “Oh, we got nothing but real heavy stuff here. Take your pick.” She waifs a hoof behind her at the large selection.

I take in a deep breath, shaking my head. My eyelids feel like they’re a hundred pounds.

“Alirght, alright…Scotch?” She still has a real devious smile on her face.

I would be curious…But I don’t care right now. I just shrug, my eyes completely closing as I feel like I might get drunk off of a severe lack of sleep.

“Here ya are.” She slides me a large mug that’s nearly overflowing with alcohol.

I take a quick swig, and it hits me in the gut. It’s the kind of hit where it hurts, then has a sweet sigh of relief right after, and only aids in my shitty-sleep stricken daze.

“I‘m getting this real odd feeling in the long part of my stomach right now.” She leans on the counter, her back to me.

I can’t see, but depending on her voice, she’s smirking wildly. “Yuuup…” I don’t even know why I replied. Doesn’t matter.

“I think it‘s called déjà vu?” She tilts her head back, and there’s a space between her face and the shades where I’m able to get a glimpse of her eyes.

Oh…I guess there is. A while ago, when I first worked here, she’s the first pony I’ve helped. And I’ve helped a lot since then. Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. “Yeah, whatever.”

She turns to her side, leaning over the counter and getting dangerously close to me. “You sound like a pissed off teenager.”

I look up and see a real smirk, the kind that says “I told you so.” I sigh, rolling my eyes. Maybe if I condoned her talking a little, she’d leave me alone. “Feel like it.”

“Ahh…That kind of night, huh?” She brings her head low enough so I’m forced to see her. “Looking pretty pale, too.”

I tuck my eyes closed and inhale deeply. “I‘m in a real shit mood, Vinyl.”

She leans her head forward quickly, placing herself over her hooves. “Don‘t let up! Gimme all the juicy details.”

I can see through her glasses; she has a sea made of rocks and knives. Fuck it, why not. “Good news, or bad news?” I give her enough attention to lift my head up, but not enough to open my eyes.

“I like desert.” One of her cheeks goes up wide as she grins.

“I‘m a mega-powerful hybrid of Unicorns, Pegasus’s, and Earth ponies and I‘m being trained to use my magical-powers for good.” I say so casually that it’s actually kind of worrying.

But my worry is put aside when Vinyl just looks at me with a continuingly building smirk. “Alright. How about that broccoli?”

What? Nothing to say about me being a freak? “Well…” I begin, opening my eyes for her. “My marefriend sacrificed her life‘s work so we could be together.” Again…So casual. It’s probably the alcohol, though.

Yeah, definitely the alcohol.

She gets back up, her face the same as usual and begins to clean more cups. “Sounds like shit.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to focus on hers. Not too easy, considering she has glasses on. “So…what? You don‘t care that I‘m some sort of volatile bomb?” My voice raises to a dangerous octave. Definitely the alcohol.

She shrugs to a blunt degree, placing her cup on the counter. “So what?”

I can feel the anger swelling inside me like a balloon. “So?! I could levitate this whole bar and kill all of you without even trying!” I boast, a true dark spot forming in my heart.

She places her hooves on the counter, leaning forward. “So?”

My fumes start burning, my gears start turning, and my eyes start flaring. “I‘m a fucking freak!”

Vinyl keeps a straight face the whole time, looking at me with the true definition of patience. “And you‘ll still be Buddy.”

I slump down in my stool. I’m done…She isn’t worth the energy…”What the hell you mean?” I mutter, laying my head on the counter with a rough ‘thump.’

She moves away from the counter, presumably to continue cleaning. “What I mean is; you can lift all the bars you want, be all the godly you want, and do all that jazz. You‘ll still be Buddy to me.”

I shake my head, huffing loudly. “No I won‘t. I‘ll be a freak…I‘m a fucking hybrid, Vinyl.” I mumble against the wood of the counter, drool oozing from my mouth.

She slithers out a heavy sigh, putting down another cup. “You‘re missing the point, papi.”

I close my eyes, shaking my head as subtly as possible. “I don‘t need to. I‘m the only kind of my race. I was born alone, and I‘ll die alone.”

“If that‘s your choice, do what you want.” She poises me to the bone, getting finished with another glass mug.

I sigh deeply, picking my head up. The wood is starting to hurt against my temple. “My choice? It wasn‘t my choice to be born with this crap!” My voice suddenly rises to anger once again. This alcohol really puts me in a bad place…But fuck it takes away the pain.

She shrugs calmly, leaning onto the counter again. “That‘s not what I meant, dude.”

I clench my eyes shut, my anger going as quickly as it came. “Then what are you saying?” My heart is only half in the conversation. I’m only shitting by time until I knock myself out.

“I mean,” She begins, pulling out another cup. “it wasn‘t your choice to be a ‘hybrid’, ye-”

“Hollicorn.” I correct her, my eyes squinting. Why am I correcting her? I don’t even like the fucking name.

“- Hollicorn, sorry. Wasn‘t your choice, but it’s your choice what to do with it.” She finishes, oh so sage-like.

I roll my eyes, now peaking my minor interests. “Go on…” I mumble, mostly coaxed in by the alcohol.

She tosses a rag behind her, now focusing all her efforts on me. “Power, no power, mare, no mare, scotch, no scotch- you‘re still going to be Buddy. It‘s what you choose to do with what you‘re given that will define you.”

I lean my head back, my reality coming out of the pool of alcohol for the moment. My gaze narrows, my mind taking a little longer to process her words.

I guess she’s right. Doesn’t make me happier, though. Thanks to the scotch, probably. “Don‘t do this to me, Vinyl.”

She tilts her head for the first poke of curiosity on her face I’ve seen all night. “Do what?”

She’s the type of pony that does the exact opposite. And…That’s what defines her. Damn you Vinyl, how are you showing me up at my own game? “You‘re making me feel empathetic for that first night here.”

A very omniscient smirk spreads over her. “I get paid to do that.”

Now that I remember. I told her ‘I get paid to do that’ as a remark to stalking on their argument that night. Damn, it’s crazy how things work sometimes. “And I get paid to burn through hard liquor.” Don’t know how I remember that.

“Hahhaa!” She shouts, throwing her hoofs up high. “I can‘t believe you remember.”

I roll my eyes, a slight jump in my ego forming. “Yeah, it‘s all I got though.” Probably cause the alcohol.

“You made my night, dude.” A good, heart-felt chuckle coos from her mouth as she rubs a hoof over the counter.

I can feel my dignity make a slow comeback to my soul. “So…You really don‘t care that I‘m like this?”

She shakes her head, moving her lower lip underneath her upper. “Not really.”

My curiosity fused with depression works well to ask stupid questions. “Why?”

“Why?” She picks her head up as she seems to ask herself as well. “I‘d guess it‘s because I have no reason to.”

I shake my head, confusion quickly replacing my curiosity, but not my depression. “I still don‘t understand…”

Vinyl seems to have had enough with me not understanding and smacks both her hooves on the counter. “Listen.” She says firmly, her face real close.

My eyes flutter open, my brain taking longer and longer to process her tone. I just nod my head, more shock than fear in me.

She pulls off her glasses, staring at me real hard. “What do you think of me?”

I open my mouth, but it takes a minute for words to come out. “I think you‘re a striking young mare.” I flatter her, a bird-like smirk forming over me.

She continues to stare at me hard. “I am the daughter of the richest colt in Fillydelphia.” She states with a firm grip on my attention.

I raise an eyebrow, nodding my head. “That‘s…Pre-”

“All my life he‘d offer to buy me through college, buy me my house, pay my rent, send me shit, and all of that.” She continues on, pausing as she shakes her head.

I open my mouth, and it again takes a minute for anything to come out. “Wh-”

“And you know what I did?” She asks, an almost accusing stare on her face.

I just stay quiet this time, letting her continue with her rant as I sit patiently.

“I chose not to use a dime of it. I chose not to take the easy way, and instead make it all on my own. I went to school to get my own career, get my own job, and get my own income. There were times where I really, really could have used even twenty bits, and I had a ready stash from him, but I refused to go back on my word.“ She moves her hooves off the counter, and instead leans into it on her stomach. “Know why I did all that?”

The only thing I can do when hit with a bunch of philosophy is shake my head.

“Because I refuse to let him define me.” She leans back, placing her hooves on her waist.

I never thought Vinyl to be so good with advice. It seems only a day ago that I was in her place, giving her the advice. Now it’s me, and I can feel the pressure. “I admire you a lot, you know?” I smirk up at her. Definitely not the alcohol doing that.

She nods her head quickly, pride gushing from her. “I get that a lot.”

I let her have her moment, nodding my head slowly. “Seriously, I appreciate it. You‘re a good pony.” I smile the most genuine one I have all day.

She gets a little more serious with my praise, bowing her head slowly. “Hey, I have to really try to beat you in therapy.”

I roll my eyes, moving the mug full of scotch away. “Don‘t let it go to your head now.”

She gives a big toothy grin, showing off her bright-white teeth. “Eeeeh…You‘re easy. I won‘t put it on my goodness calendar.” She walks off and pulls out another cup, scrubbing it clean.

I raise an eyebrow, putting both my hooves up on the counter. “Goodness calendar?”

She picks her head up, putting the unfinished mug down. “Oh, ha! Well uhh…Octavia told me that I‘m not nice enough to ponies, so I decided to make a goodness calendar. Everyday I have to try to do something nice for somepony so I can mark the day, and when I don‘t I can‘t mark it on the calendar.” She explains really fast, then stuffs her cloth back inside the cup.

I shake my head, gulping down the remnants of the scotch. Wow it tastes bitter…Alcohol is awful when I’m not in a shit mood. “That‘s a sure sign you‘re a dick.”

She leans forward, finishing off the cup and gives me the most devious smirk of all time. “But I got your job, didn‘t I?”

“Wow…You‘re an ass.” I laugh with much more heart, and I perk up from the counter. I could boast that I get paid more…But I remember that’s the whole reason why her friend hates me.

“Yeah, but I have a nice ass.” She turns around, walking around the bar and uses it as an excuse to swing her hips around.

I roll my eyes again, with extra wide eyes. “Yeah, well, Vinyl…I can‘t stay here all night, I have a bed calling my name.” I sit up from the stool, still looking over the counter at Vinyl.

“Whatever, dude. Stop by tomorrow, uh huh?” She yells at me as she messes around in a sink.

I nod my head to her, even though she isn’t looking. “It‘s a date.” I confirm and walk back around to the door.

“Night!” She shouts loud across the bar.

“Goodnight!” I yell back, then promptly shut the door behind me.

I should’ve known Vinyl would find some way to make a big circle of fuckery. I don’t remember a lot about that first night…Bunch of philosophy; that’s all that is important. I’m surprised she didn’t get a “Is it half empty, or half full?” reference somewhere in there. That would’ve earned a big laugh from me.

But…She’s right. In all her cocky, arrogant, asshole-righteousness, she’s totally correct.

I shouldn’t let what I’ve been born with decide what I am. Nor should I allow other ponies to decide for me; I have to advocate for myself, and only I can make it happen.

I am the master of my destiny.

And tonight, I choose to go to damn bed! I couldn’t even sleep on that stupid ride because it was that boring.

With haste, I make my way to my house. Luckily enough for me, it’s only a short walk

away, and I don’t even have enough time to look at the sky and appreciate it.

As I’m unlocking my door, pulling it open, I here the clear sound of hooves clacking against dirt.

My minor paranoia has been on fire lately, and the coldness of the night isn’t helping. I jerk around, scanning through the dark streets of Ponyville. My attention is caught by a tan-looking pony emerging from a dark alley.

“I fancy you the pony that all isuh telling about?” The deep voice speaks from the darkness, revealing it to be a stallion.

I narrow my eyes, getting a good look at the pony’s dark red mane and his cold, sleepless eyes. “Depends. Lot‘s of ponies, lot‘s of telling.”

The stallion opens his mouth to laugh, but nothing comes out. “You hear that?” He drops the act, making his way towards me with a superior stare. “It‘suh the sound of nopony around.”

My eyes narrow at the stallion, and I make sure he is directly in front of me as he attempts to circle. “Don‘t do something you might regret.” My voice is surprisingly cool and collective even though I am feeling the swelling spores of fear.

He stops, his side to me. “I didn‘t fight for my country to just let some freak waltzuh hisuh way in.” His ribbon-like eyes are glued onto me.

Though I am clearly older than this colt, he looks like has been through more situations than I. A scar over his eyes, several on his hooves, and it looks like he has had plenty of nights without sleep. “I‘ll be trained by Twilight Sparkle. I bring no thr-”

“Shut up.” His voice is rough, rigged, and solid.

I narrow my eyes, planting my hoofs on the ground. I don’t move an inch other than my eyes, dead on my target.

He follows me like predator, his eyes interlocking with mine. His mouth constantly moves, yet no words come out.

I can only get a glimpse into what can only be described as a vanquished sea. His eyes…There’s no ocean. It’s only a plane of terrestrial death and decay; a dessert.

I move my forehooves ever so slightly, my destination for the door. My subconscious picks up in the back of my mind that I am biting down on my lips too hard, but my primary focus is far too important to fully acknowledge the possibility that I am breaking skin.

He moves his head forward, noticing my subtle movements.

I can’t think: I have to do.

My instincts speak to me, and I twist as quickly as I can, yanking open the door. Behind me, I hear the racketing sound of hooves, to which I continue to follow my instincts and bring my hind legs up and kick.

The sickening sound of bone, flesh, and blood roars over me as I feel the crunch of the colt behind me.

I jump at the moment, diving into my house and closing the door behind me. Now I can think, but my instincts flourish my whole circulatory system as I jerk my body to the wooden floor, rushing my way to my kitchen. It’s about as shitty as Vinyl’s.

I curse to myself as I don’t find a weapon right away, my thoughts starting to become cluttered as I attempt to think of something- anything.

The horrible sound of glass shattering and a series of thuds causes me to jerk my head back.

There he was, like the mad-stallion he is, laying on the wooden floor with plenty of new scars to add to his collection. His face looks horrible with his left eyes barely open, his jaw already bruising, and his neck cut up. It’s a terrible thing to think about anything but survival right now, but I can’t help but mentally thank Applejack for all those Apple bucking sessions. His face looks like it has been through a few wars recently thanks to it.

I stare too long as he picks himself up, scrapping his hooves against the icy floor.

I turn back around, yanking open drawers and cabinets, swinging silverware and plates about.

The harsh language of curse words being shouted behind me causes my attention to flare to the tan-colored stallion.

I start to breathe heavily, realizing I am going to have to fight this trained warrior with hopes and dreams. Turning to face the rage-struck colt, I step from the kitchen and stand firm, waiting for him.

He stands up with a firm stance, seeming to come back from his daze: a missed opportunity to strike. He circles me slowly, his right forehoof limping slightly.

I eye him, noticing the limp and putting that knowledge in the back of my mind. We’re at a stalemate yet again, just like outside my door.

He seems to whisper something, constantly moving his mouth, but still no words come out.

I attempt to see farther than I really can, like I have the ability to zoom by squinting my eyes.

His breath quickens into loud, rage-filled huffs until finally he bursts a sprint towards me, his head lowered to ram.

I attempt to side-step his attack, and am met with a rough beat to my side at my failure. I lay sprawled on the ground, and quickly look for the attacker.

He’s getting up, shaking his head as he too seems to be dazed from his double-edged attack.

I leap at the chance, wincing as I climb to my hooves and charge the stallion.

His eyes come to terms with my intentions and he braces himself for me, his flank high and forehooves low.

I smash into him, our bodies colliding like thunder. Our muzzles meet as we try and struggle for an advantage, yanking and tugging at each other’s shoulders.

Curses are exchanged between us as I start to become overpowered, my hind legs failing me.

Realizing this, the superior colt smiles down at me wickedly, then tilts his head back as if he is charging energy, then screams as our heads collide.

I can’t see anything, and I’m lucky to hear the faintest groan as I stumble to my hooves and wearily trot my way around the room. The very subtle sound of glass crunching causes me to lazily bring my gaze to the floor, and I find that I am stepping on glass.

I’m hit with both a war cry and body as I’m sent onto the glass, the crazed attacker on top of me. He shouts profanities as he brings one of his hoofs up, ready to strike.

With the aid of my distant instincts still guiding me, my hoof swings across and slams into his face, throwing him off of me.

He crashes into a wall head first, creating a sizeable hole.

Seizing the moment, my mind looks for the first exit and immediately clings to the stairs, and I find myself already half way up before I realize what I am doing. I am going on full adrenaline right now, blood pouring off my head and splashing- not dripping, splashing onto the floor beneath me. Once I get into my room and make my way to a dead end, I turn around to find the ever-moving pursuer.

I clench my teeth, blood spurting from my mouth as I do.

The crazed stallion chooses not to circle me like before, and instead just charges right after me, his head lowered again.

Instead of leaping out of the way like last time, I duck just before he is going to hit and then lift my body up with all my strength as he hits me, causing him to fly through the air.

I slump onto the ground, my hooves about to fall off. I have enough to turn my head around, looking at the destroyed colt with his head through my wall, narrowly missing the window.

He proves to have greater endurance as he pulls himself from the second wall he has made friends with tonight and turns around, blood absolutely gushing from his wounds. It’s a miracle he can see.

With a burst of my last remaining energy, I launch my body forward, tackling him into the window- then out. We both fumble our bodies onto the roof of my house, and I crunch my hooves into the tiles until I come to a stop.

He does the same, and recovers much quicker as he gets away from the edge and walks to me diligently, limping from every one of his legs.

I groan as I get to my hooves, now my adrenaline beginning to fail. I stare at him, one of my eyes not opening properly. The one that does work is being blinded with red splotches of blood and fading color. Still, my perseverance gets a hold of me as I take a stance, and prepare for him.

He launches towards me, leaving behind a trail of his stained blood.

Not really sure of what to do this time, I turn around quickly and try to catch him off guard with another one of my apple bucking kicks, compliments of Applejack.

He doesn’t fall for it again as I’m lifted into the air, and we’re both launched back inside my house through the wall and then continue to rip through my cardboard house’s ceiling.

I roll over the opposite side of my roof, and he follows my tumbling as we nearly fall off. I brace myself however, finding strength that I never knew I had. He, however, has a lot more than me and is already up, rushing to me with a purpose.

I wince, getting to my hooves just before he comes within feet of me.

He stops himself, panting heavily. Blood gushing from his head, mouth, neck, eyes, and legs as he keeps himself locked onto me.

Seeing how extensive his injuries are, my curiosity is provoked and I look over myself, taking note that I can barely see him in front of me. My hooves look like they’re almost broken and my neck feels extremely stiff. I’m glad I don’t have a mirror.

He limps towards me, and I see the first glimpse of exhaustion on the difficult stallion.

Though I am in a far less favorable state, my confidence starts to build back up and I take my final stand, my tail swishing in the breeze of Luna’s night.

He increases his pace until he completely regains his speed and jumps at me.

I leap to him, and our bodies create lightning over my house as we collide. I shove my hoof against his chest, trying to push him away from me as we both slowly slide down my roof.

He rolls over me, giving us both some much needed space before bringing a hoof up.

My instincts come a little late and before I am able to smack him away, I see his tan color through the red in my eye before nothingness.

I can’t see anything more than a single color: tan. And just before it clutters my eyesight further, I rocket my hoof up in response and feel the familiar cracking of bones and blood splattering on me as I connect.

I definitely didn’t just suckerpunch the moon, so my guess is, I hit him. And I hit him hard.

I hear a tumbling sound, presumably him rolling over the roof until I find the lonely sound of struggling.

He’s trying to stop himself from falling off. I rush over to the sound, finding my footing and making it my mission in life to detect exactly where he is.

He huffs loudly, his hooves screeching against the roof’s tiles until he stops, right in front of me.

With a complete hunch, I swing my hoof in front of me, and I meet the horrible sound once again. The crunching of his jaw erupts from the silent of the night, the spurting of blood and teeth from his mouth creating chatter in my own, and the horrible cry of agony bellowing from him as he begins to fall.

I feel a tug on my hoof, and before I can comprehend anything else, I feel the rush of wind against me as my mane swooshes over my face and my tail rockets between my legs.

I’m falling to my death. From atop my new home- my new smashed up home- I am falling in the night, and the only company I have is a fellow stallion who also has a meeting with death. Even though we just had the brawl of a lifetime, I can feel sympathy for this colt. I’d guess that when you are about to die, and you know it, you really think about things.

I am just a random pony who came into Equestria, and was born this way. In a kind of sense, I learned something without him even telling me. He beat it into me, more like it.

I was born to be special.

Vinyl is right, it is what I do with what I’m given that defines me, but this colt…This pony falling with me right now taught me something.

I was given more choices than any normal pony.

Vinyl chose not to live the easy way because she could make that choice. Some ponies are forced to take the hard way, like my fellow soon-to-be-dead friend.

As I’m falling…I wonder if this colt would be friends with me? If it were different circumstances; if he knew then that I understood his choice, would we have still killed each other? I just hope that maybe, maybe in some part of this pony’s heart, that we could have been friends.

That would be nice. Friends with somepony that, in an alternate universe, kills you. I wouldn’t mind it though.

I guess, when you’re falling, you think about a lot of things- especially with the all encompassing presence of death- such as what you’ve done, how you’ve lived, and who you’ve loved.

But not me. I look at the future: what will Twilight do? Will she blame herself? Probably.

What about Vinyl? She probably would too, and use some excuse that if she had kept me a little longer, I would be alive. Silly Vinyl, always about yourself.

I wonder what the rest of them would do?

Fluttershy would undoubtedly be more sincere, heartbroken, and severely cut from any emotion other than utter-depression.

Applejack would be horrified, but would most likely be the pony that pulls the rest together, making those morale’s high.

Rainbow Dash would most likely let her pride subside, even if it’s for a second, and let me have a sense of dignity with her mourn.

Rarity would be absolutely devastated- we’ve shared many days and nights together. We made tons of gifts for our friends, and I guess she’ll be keeping this week’s check.

Pinkie Pie…I still remember when Rainbow Dash told me about the time Pinkie’s hair went flat and she went a little nutty. I imagine something like that would happen, and it’s awful that I am one of the causes of her extremely rare mood drops.

Spike, my little solid dude, he would probably mourn me mostly because he saw how strong of a connection me and Twilight had.

And Twilight…Oh, how I beg for a chance to go to her in the afterlife. If there is some malevolent force that I meet in the afterlife, I hope they have mercy so I may look upon her one last time- so I may sail just one last time before I depart on my last adventure.

And as I fall…I think of something.

If I could talk to just one pony- just one- before I die, what would I tell them? What words would be so structured and meaningful coming from a dying pony that would strike them throughout their entire compendium of secrets in their minds?

If I could say just one thing to any pony that would listen, I would tell them,

“Nights last forever when you‘re falling.”