(Hi my name is Firing pin, and I'm a fuck up at life)

"Water is coming in through the hull you idiot! I’ll ask again WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!"

As the war raged on I could barely hear that shout; failed.. we had failed and this time I could honestly say it wasn't my fault; though they needed some pony to blame for this, so why not me.

"I don’t blame you Pin I..I blame this fucked up war..."

"Great yet another death to add to the countless ones prior..WHY..why does every pony I have contact with die"

...

Before I say any more about that; please allow me to introduce myself and allow me to explain how I ever ended up in this situation. It started with a death in my home; one that I must say could have been avoided had I actually paid attention to where my weapon was facing and not been fucking off. Oh sure you could say "But Firing Pin, shit happens." To which I’d say "FUCK YOU!" You don't know me well enough to let such slander flow so freely. Well comrade pull up a stool and let the Grey Pegasus Vodka flow; boy do I have a tale for you.

...

"OK Firing Pin, just load the magazine the way I showed you; nice and easy. Good now line up the sights with the target; perfect, now don’t just pull the trigger; instead just... breathe. Relax....aim...squeeze."

KRAPOW!

Down went my first ever target; my father was so pleased with me that he gave me that very same rifle. The Coltlishnikove model forty seven was and still is a very trusty weapon. Having seen battle in the Simareian forests it never once froze or jammed; at least not if properly maintained that was. The model was also used extensively in the hot arid deserts of Saddle Arabia. It could withstand the brutal punishment dished out by the marejahaudine, being dropped, filled with dirt, and baking in the sun; It truly is a marvel of death dealing ingenuity. The very first time I ever fired that weapon was when I turned 8 years old; the day I got my cutie mark however was two years later; while I was cleaning said weapon. I had noticed that by slightly adjusting my firing pin It would strike dead center on the primer cap. My father allowed me to tinker with his other weapons as well, and that is where I got my cutie mark. It soon would become my hallmark in the wastes as well. I became famous for leaving a single shell with a perfectly centered firing pin hit.

...

My sixteenth birthday should have been happy; and it was until... *gulp* My careless and reckless side took over.

"Bet you can't hit that target Pin!"

"You wanna bet Short Fuse?"

Short fuse was my best friend and on again off again mare friend, and we would often be called tweedledee and tweedle dumb. "I'll give you a guess at who tweedle dumb was"

"You don’t have enough money to make a bet pin." She stated, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Do too fuse, and I’ll prove it.

I was too busy teasing Short Fuse that I didn't even check down range....

KRAPOW....THUD

...

"Hey barkeep two more rounds please!" *SIGH* I killed the range manager in the first of many stupid mistakes I would ever make. It didn't help that he was my uncle either; my dad disowned me as did the rest of the stable.

"It wasn't his fault though! I was distracting him... Please no..I love him..yo..YOU CAN'T DO THIS! Please mom"

"Get back to work now Short Fuse! You might just join him young lady!"

At first the over mare had recommended execution but after Short Fuse admitted to distracting me she thought banishment would suffice; so that's what ended up happening. Not two days later did I find myself at the great door that led to who knew what or where? Short Fuse for her role was offered jail time; or banishment as well. She chose to go with me saying that since she was already in trouble, she had snooped around on her mother's terminal for anything pertaining to the outside world and had discovered that this stable was in the middle of a city called Stalliongrad. She also had come across a classified file with the code name of Iron Fish. If only I had known what exactly Iron Fish meant I would have told her to ditch the file and never follow me; but hindsight is always 20/20.

...

Once upon a time in a far distant past the world as any pony knew it was plunged into war; lands took up arms and the fight for precious resources began. Some lands allied with others to protect what they had; still others were razed out of existence. Though many died in the initial war; they were the lucky ones. For after each nation realized that troops, armor, and other conventional means of war weren't enough they resorted to a final desperate act. In a matter of two hours the world as they knew it was plunged into a veritable hell-scape. Many perished or wish they had; the world was poisoned and with the final cloud put into place the weather no longer obeyed any pony. Though it seemed all life had been extinguished; it had in fact not been. During the reign of spell fire and bale-fire, ponies lived; they did so in not only Stable-Tech stables, but also in the few soundly built Solaris stables. However after the radiation levels dropped in places, ponies began to emerge; beginning anew among the ruins of decades past. However with new life tragically comes death; new flags wave, old ones burn and the cycle never ends.

Or does it?

Author's Note

Ok so this is my very first FOE related fic; please tell me what you think so far.