Too Soon...

5 years later, Ratchet and Sugar were wandering under the dark shroud of Manehattan’s Downzone; “lit up like a christmas tree” some ponies described it as, referring to the many street lights that used to light it. ”Some shitty christmas tree’s they must’ve seen.”

Since the time Ratchet had met Sugar Manehattan had changed, for better and worse. It was better if you were one of the rich high-class ponies who could afford to buy an apartment above the smog clouds; which had only become thicker, more tainted and more of an eyesore.. But it was a lot worse if you lived in the downzone. A few new key buildings had been built, the main one being the Spire Cortex. It was the focal point for each and every Spire within the city, and connected them all into one massive grid supporting the Upper Society.

From up there came light from a new “scientific discovery” called Lightning Oil. Lightning Oil glows a ghastly white, but due to the pipes being at the same level as the smog it shone down on the Downzone as more of a purple colour, sticking the Downzone in a constant twilight effect. This wouldn’t have been an issue, but most of the old lampposts had been removed. Thus nicknaming the smoggy area above the downzone the “Twilight Zone”.

Ratchet and Sugar trotted into an off-license store and purchased a can of lager each, walked back around the corner and sat down on a small bench. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be stained with alcohol, blood and other bodily fluids Ratchet didn’t want to think about. There they opened their cans and watched the world go by.

“Shit,” Ratchet exclaimed, holding out his right hoof and looking up into the Twilight Zone. “It’s starting to rain.” Ratchet and Sugar stood up and covered their lager from the murky, acidic rain tainted by the Twilight Zone. They quickly started to trot towards Ratchet’s house. The rain picked up to a torrential downpour as they went.

“Ratchet, let’s take cover underneath that station platform over there.” Sugar suggested pointing to a concrete platform suspended above the ground by thick, decaying pillars.

Another change to Manehattan was the new trains around the place, unlike the many intercity trains, these bullet shaped inner trains were smaller and ran on Lightning Oil but were also a lot faster. These trains also meant a decrease in ponies and carriages walking the streets

“So, Ratchet, how do you feel about the new trains?” Sugar asked glancing up as a bullet train speed overhead sprinkling dust and crumbled concrete on the two.

“Meh, they’re alright, I suppose. I mean, they got rid of the traffic, but they just make the place a lot louder.” Ratchet replied sipping at his lager. Perching on the kerb below the platform.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Sugar said following suit and sitting on the cold, hard, stone.

After an hour of the downpour the rain didn’t look like it would ease off, and so the two ponies decided to try and get back to Ratchet’s place before it got worse.

The rain eased off a little as they galloped through the downpour and so the two ponies slowed their pace along the rain beaten streets.

As they got to around three blocks away an enormous bang sounded, and a fireball shot out of relatively high up apartment window from across the street. Ratchet and Sugar turned and looked in horror as flames spat out of the windows. The rain eased up a little and a stallion calmly walked out of the building of which the fire was in. His dark grey coat was clean and his azure hair hung low across his face; and covering his face was a bandana type thing with a gas mask on the front, it made the stallion look like a Trottingham rebel. ”Why’s he dressed like that? We’re in Manehattan, not Trottingham -- what an oaf.” Ratchet mused.

The two ponies carried on their walk home as silence haunted them, only broken by the occasional comment by one of the two that “I hope nobody was hurt” and words to that effect.

The two ponies reached the steps of Ratchet’s house and climbed the grey, stone slab steps up to the front door. before pushing the creaking wood aside.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re both okay!” exclaimed the bright yellow and lime ‘thing’ that leaped at them both bringing them into a tight, back-breaking, hug.

“Why?” The two youngsters said exchanging looks.

“Ain't yer heard?” Ratchet’s father asked. “There was a fire in the Downzone, then around three blocks away from there, a train crash!” He continued putting on a serious tone. “They say that everyone on board was killed and that this stallion named… er… Twisted Morals? I think it was… was involved as it was his apartment that was on fire!” He finished, looking at the pair,  nodding gravely

“Ol’ Twist? Can’t be him.” Ratchet replied, a look of disbelief consumed his face.

“Who’s ‘he’?” Sugar asked looking at Ratchet and his father in turn.

“Twisted Morals is a nutter, he’s off his rocker, he’s bloody mental!” Ratchet’s father replied emphasising his words with vivid hoof gestures.

“Twist is a complete nutcase. He lives in Spire 52; the one that was on fire, and he’s had a few mental breakdowns in the past. But one time when I was younger he walked up to me, gave me ten bits and told me not to make mistakes... before stumbling off into the crowds.” Ratchet countered glancing at his father’s facial expression.

“He’s well known in the Downzone, dear.” Ratchet’s mother continued smiling reassuringly at the teenage mare.

“Well, he wasn’t known in the Elderlane.” Sugar replied, referring to the rat infested lower city from whence she came.

“Anyway, if you two want to go upstairs, dinner will be ready in around half an hour.” Ratchet’s mum stated ushering them away up the stairs.

“Well, I best be going now,” Sugar declared after dinner, “Else the orphanage will be wondering where, I am…” She finished.

“As if they didn’t know by now.” Ratchet’s mother interjected smiling sweetly at her.

“Yeah they should, but remember; I’ve got a history of running away,” Sugar reminded them smiling in a rogue-ish manner.

Ratchet got up and accompanied her the door, opening it for her. He smiled at her, she smiled back.

“See ya later.” She said before galloping into the on-going, persistent rain.

The next day, the rain had subsided and Ratchet met Sugar Sweet in the foyer of her orphanage.

“Hey Ratchet!” Sugar exclaimed walking out of her room and trotting over to him grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey Sugar. How are you?" Ratchet replied smiling at the young mare.

"I'm good, you?" She answered looking at him.

"I'm fine." Ratchet turned to go, Sugar followed him, beaming from ear to ear, still. Her eyes shone like marbles in a midday murk as they stepped onto the twilight streets.

“So, where we off to today?” Sugar asked. She smiled a toothy smile at Ratchet, he returned it.

“I thought we could walk around, possibly get a drink if we get thirsty.” Ratchet considered “Ya know, just walkin’ an’ talkin’ I suppose.” He finished, looking at her. ”She doesn’t know that tomorrow I start my training. I should tell her, but when? Now.” “ Er, Sugar, I need to tell you something… Tomorrow I start my two week training.” He said looking at her, praying that she doesn’t get angry.

“Okay." She said turning her head looking away from Ratchet, clearly hurt at the fact that she wouldn't see him for a week, and looked across the road to where a single, dead leaf lay, in loved and unwanted. " I used to feel like this leaf..." She stated, staring deeply into it's golden brown colour and crinkled texture. Ratchet stared blankly at the side of her head, with b R4 ated breath. "Cut off from my lifeline, a dying entity, waiting to rot." She finished, a single transparent tear rolled down her muzzle, leaving a silky sheen in its wake, a purple reflection of the twilight.

"I er, don't get it." Ratchet replied, his blank look unbroken. Sugar sniffed, attempted a smile before asking:

"What don't you get?"

"The lifeline bit," Ratchet replied, cocking his head to the left slightly.

"The leaf was cut from it's lifeline, that being the tree. I was cut off from my parents, to a young girl, they're her lifeline, her solitude, her fortress." She answered, staring into Ratchet's deep blue eyes.

A while later and Sugar and Ratchet were stood on Ratchet's doorstep.

"So, how long will you be gone again?" She asked, scratching her hoof on the stone slabs subconsciously.

"Around two weeks." Was the answer, Ratchet stepped towards Sugar, their eyes met, the world around them stopped. "You've been the best friend I could have ever hoped for." He said, before pulling her into a hug.

"Just, just pass, for me." Sugar said looking up into his eyes.

Sugar walked home alone, her world was empty, no one was there for her. She could go and visit his parents, but that wasn't the same; they didn't want to go out and mock societal flaws, nor sit and drink alcohol. Sugar walked into an off license; and out again with two bottles of vodka and a bottle of whisky. Her monthly allowance, gone.

She sat down on the kirb and flicked the cap of one of the bottles, she cared not for which. As she threw her head back, her lips sealed to the neck of the bottle, a wave of whisky, splashed into her mouth, it's strong taste dominating her mouth and senses. She followed suit with some vodka. Tipping it down her throat like a greedy beggar craving for water, it felt like ice was being poured down her throat. Her vision blurred and soon the mass of neon advertising attached to buildings was just one big mess of shapes and colours, one sign indiscernible from the next.

Soon, there was three empty bottles and a passed out pony on the side of the road, nopony else cared for her. T’was normal in the great shithole of lower Manehattan.

"Ah, fuck!" Were Sugar's first words upon her reawakening. She brought both her forehooves up to her face and stared at the grimy mess of fur that they'd become from one night on the streets of Manehattan. All three of them looked like they hadn't been clea... ”Wait, three?” Sugar's mind was a haze, the memories of the night before brought back to her by the distinct clinking of three bottles as she rolled onto her hooves.

Dragging herself up, she stumbled, regaining her stability, she placed one hoof in front of the other. She put pressure on the hoof. She lifted her other hoof. She fell, hitting her head on the hard floor and smashing a bottle with her hoof.

"Ah! My head..." She rubbed her head, wincing as she ran her hoof through her rough fur.

After staggering through a few of the many streets of Manehattan’s Downzone, Sugar just wanted to get home, back to the orphanage, back to her solitude from society.

Her hungover state left her head reeling in pain. The constant hustle and bustle of everyday Downzone activity meant that Sugar could guarantee that at least five of the other ponies on the street were in a similar state to her.

Sugar stumbled up the stone steps and fell through the thick oaken door; leaving a grimy print where her body had made contact. She meandered across the main lobby and soon found herself in her room, where she commenced to step into the shower and take a long, relaxing, shower.