Rebels in Equestria

by MDR-V6

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Alternate Universe, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Main 6, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Adventure, Princess Celestia
Length: 31510

When his home is invaded by a foreign power Anonymous, a mere student, is conscripted by the resistance to fight and save his home. Unbeknownst to him, his role in the war is what leads to him being sent to Equestria. (Anonymous in Equestria)

When his home is invaded by a foreign power Anonymous, a mere student, is conscripted by the resistance to fight and save his home.

Stubborn misfits. Rag-tag ne'er-do-wells. Sore losers who couldn't accept defeat. These are the people who made up the resistance. Their goals were unrealistic. Their supplies were pathetic. But their resolve was absolute. In short, they were heroes.

After enduring a hell on earth for months; Anonymous and his team makes a final push to end the war, paying the ultimate price in the process.

Awakening in a strangereal new land, Anonymous finds himself at a loss. Grasping at straws, he struggles to cope with his new circumstances. Survivor's guilt slowly chips away at our heroes' mind and he soon begin to lose his grips on reality itself. For Anonymous must rely on comrades old and new to seek the answers he seeks before it's too late.

Ace Combat 6 is best Ace Combat.
Assault Horizon a shit.

Published 2014-02-14 16:10:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-12 04:54:57 UTC

Chapter One

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."

-Laurel K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss

The winter night is pitch black and brutally cold. Snow gently falls down onto the cityscape below. The air is filled with the sounds of war. Explosions and gun fire echo throughout the empty city.

You find yourself in the cargo trailer of an old U-Haul van. The car speeds down an abandoned highway towards Downtown Tarvo City. Your home town, and the epicenter of the fighting. You and a dozen other men are packed inside like sardines. You glance around, catching a glimpse of the other men. Each one of them carries a look of desperation, and determination. Such expressions have been forged after several months of brutal fighting.

You’ve been fighting for eleven long and grueling months. It’s been eleven months since enemy forces invaded your country and besieged your land with war. For eleven long and brutal months the Estovakians have been occupying your country. They’ve been leeching of your land like parasites, taking everything they could find. To you and everyone around you, it feels longer. Maybe even an eternity. For it’s becoming more and more difficult to remember how life was before the war.

Those bastards…

They stole everything from you. Everything from your home to the sweet embrace of your loved ones. It's been so long since you've seen them. You’re even starting to forget the sounds of their voices. They took everything. Your entire life, ripped right out of your grasp But all that would change tonight. You'd get your retribution tonight.

As the van nears its destination, the sounds of war grow louder and louder. You stare out the window, gazing upon the aftermath of the fighting. What was once was a busy shopping district, now lay in ruin. Entire buildings and structures are completely leveled. The streets are littered with craters from explosions. Bodies of the dead scatter the street, the snow creating a thick blanket over them.

All of you are ready for what hard ships lay ahead. Each one of you is armed to the teeth. Looking around the van, you can spot various types of guns and weapons. Many of the weapons you carried were scavenged of off the corpses of fallen soldiers, making you all a force to be reckoned with. You look down at yourself. A Semi-Automatic hunting rifle sits on your lap. It’s been retrofitted with a make shift suppressor and affixed with a bayonet. The bag on your back is packed with all sorts of supplies and equipment. You don’t know how long this night might stretch out for, so you’ve prepared for anything.

You are also carrying a small satchel that it packed to the brim with Molotov Cocktails and C4 explosives. This may seem like an impressive armament, but in reality, it’s not.

Your enemy, the Estovakians, leads a multi-billion dollar military war machine. For months, they have been asserting complete naval, aerial and ground dominance over your country. They have a near infinite supply of tanks, jets and soldiers, all of them trained killers. On the other hand, you were armed with a few rifles and some molotovs. It's safe to say, the odds were definitely against you.

You look around the van one more time. These hardened men sit before you. All of you have come to accept the dangers that come with the title. You all carried many names. To the Emmerian People, your fellow citizens, you were known as the Rebel Fighters, the Resistance Movement, and above all the Freedom Fighters. To your enemy, you were nothing more than infidels or terrorists.

Among you sit former Doctors, Students, and Police Officers. Like you, their lives have been shattered by the war. Men and women who could not just idly sit by and watch. Normal men and women who took up arms against their oppressors and liberate their people.

Stubborn misfits. Rag tag ne'er dowells. Sore losers who couldn't accept defeat. These are the people who made up the resistance. Their goals were unrealistic. Their supplies were pathetic. But their resolve was absolute. In short, they were heroes.

Your hands are trembling. A cold shiver travels down your spine. You did well at maintaining a relatively firm composure. Not showing a hint of emotion or weakness. But deep down inside, you were terrified. This would be the first time you’d be involved in an operation of this scale.

“Hey, Anon. How you holding up?” The voice belongs to your buddy Mac. His gruff voice was like music to your ears.

“I-I’m doing alright.” you reply.

He hands you a flask of alcohol, which you down as fast as you can. The alcohol burns your throat as it passes. Mac reassuringly pats your back.

He pulls out a small wooden box from his bag. It contains a plethora of fine hand rolled cigars. “I’ve been saving these puppies for long time, and I’ll be damned if I die before having one of these.” he chuckles.

He hands them out to everyone, “I hand rolled them myself, just for you ladies.”

You light yours, savoring the unique taste. You weren’t much of a smoker or drinker, but you found them to be excellent escapes from the fires of war. You all crack a few jokes in an attempt to ease the tension, your mind slipping into ease. In the back of your mind you start to question the contents of Mac’s hand rolled cigars. That bastard always has a tendency to pull stupid stunts. You juggle the thought for a bit before dismissing it.

Right now, you’re deep in the city. Driving down various side streets, avoiding the main roads as much as possible. Off in the distance, you can make out a platoon of Estovakian soldiers. You’ve reached your destination. The driver pulls into a dark alley way before killing the engine.

“Alright listen up! Tonight our military is launching ‘Operation: Free Gracemeria’. They’ve finally amassed a force big enough to try and drive these bastards out of our country. They’re giving them hell right now! And we have an obligation to help in any way we can!”

His voice is booming and full of charisma.

“The Stovie’s have been using a bridge just a few miles north of here to transport all sorts of troops and supplies into our city. And seeing how this city is a key stepping stone for the road for liberation; it’s crucial that we try to maintain dominance over this city! Our military is dead locked in an intense firefight downtown! They’re giving them everything they got, but it's still not enough! We’re still getting our asses handed to us!” He points off in the distance where several explosions can be seen and heard

“But that’s where you come in. We’re going to cut off their supply lines, effectively crippling them. You’re going to use the sewers to sneak under their lines of defense and get to that bridge. If all goes well you should meet up with the other cells just along the river banks. Just remember; the one and only objective of this mission is to take out that bridge. I don’t care how you get it done, just make sure it happens! Understand?!”

You all nod in agreement

“Alright, this is as far as I can take you. You’ve gotta book it the rest of the way. Tune your radios to Channel 140.85. That’s our cell’s channel. I don’t wanna hear nothing about any complications, you hear? I’ll be waiting for you here in 20 hours, and I expect all to see all of you here in one piece when I get back. Understand?”

You all silently agree.

“Alright, I’m heading back. Take care of yourselves, and take care of each other. May the golden king smile upon you us.”

You disembark from the van, unloading that little equipment you can carry. The driver gives off one last salute before speeding back down the road. Your first issue is to check all your weapons and gear. You check your rifle, making sure it’s functioning properly and fully loaded. You remove the sheath on the bayonet, revealing the sharp blade. Grabbing some empty beer bottles from your bag, you get to work on making Molotov Cocktails. You make a about a dozen and re-distribute them among the group. You double check your work one last time, before readying up.

“We ready to go?” Mac asks

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Let’s head out. We’ve got a lot of ground between us and the bridge.”

You start your trek north. The group moves as silently as possible. Only speaking when it as absolutely necessary. As you travel the broken city streets, you come face to face with the horrors of war. As a testament to the fighting that took place here, corpses litter the street. The bodies of women, children and elderly are piled up on top of each other. Any able bodied men that did not escape the initial raids were rounded up and sent to labor camps. You recall the first few nights of the Estovakian’s invasion. Raids were held on a daily basis. Innocent People were killed in the streets. Families were separated. All hell broke loose.

To see the aftermath in such a verdant state… It’s truly a disturbing sight. Even right now, the city is still heavily occupied by Estovakians. Throughout the city there are several military checkpoints. Each one houses a small squadron of enemies ready to fight. But by remaining in the shadows of side streets and alley ways, you are able to avoid enemy detection.

The two military forces are locked in combat just a few blocks over. You can hear tanks and vehicles scurrying around you. On the main roads, you watch as Estovakian troops are ushered into battle.

The fact that at any moment, your position could be revealed? It’s unnerving. You aren’t cut out for these stealth types of missions. Your ears are ravaged by the sounds of jet fighters fighting for aerial dominance. You walk for what feels like miles before stopping.

“Alright.” Mac whispers. “This is it.” He brushes the thick layer of snow off the ground, revealing a sewer man hole. “This is our ticket in. Hey, Anon!”

“Yeah?” you ask.

“Use your wrench, get that shit open.” You do as you’re told in a matter of seconds. When you remove the cover, a pungent odor fills your senses. It’s absolutely repulsive, giving you nausea

“Ughh…What the fuck man.”

“You’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

The group enters the sewer. One by one they descend into the labyrinth below. You are the last to descend, covering the man hole after you.

Mac pulls out an old map from his pocket. He uses a zippo lighter to provide light. “This here’s a map of the sewers. We nabbed it from last month’s raid on city hall.”

He pauses for a moment.

“We lost a lot of good men trying to get this piece of paper...Let’s make it count. Come on, this way!” He leads the group down the sewer. The deeper and deeper you progress, the more and more it seems like a labyrinth. You take point, a flash light affixed to your rifle provides ample light.

You were about to turn a corner when someone pulls you back, causing you to trip and fall face first into the sewer water.

“Wh-” Before you have a chance to say anything, a Freedom Fighter muzzles your mouth.

“Shut up! Shut up! Listen!” he exclaims.

Focusing your hearing can barely hear two voices in the distance. Slowly but surely, they approach. Eventually you are able to distinguish two different voices. Both of them speaking in Estovakian, a language you cannot understand.

“Shit!” you whisper. “Nobody said there were patrols down here!”

“Nobody said there weren’t any either.”

“It sounds there are only 2 guys. We can take em!”

“Don’t waste your ammo!”

“Shh! They’re headed this way!”

“Shut up! Shut up! I can see them!”

“What the fuck are you doing in the open? Hide!”

You all take positions, finding hiding spots within the sewer’s tunnels. You hide behind a barrel on the walkway

The two patrol men come into view. They’re too distracted with their conversation to even notice you.

When they are in within reach, you grab one of the patrolmen, catching him completely by surprise. All the meanwhile, the other resistance fighters grab the other.

You hold the patrol man in a choke hold, while the others bludgeon him. Many of them are using the butts of their rifles. One freedom fighter uses a lead pipe he found on the ground.

You watch as the other patrol man suffers a similar fate

The man is desperately trying to break free of your choke hold. You let go of the man, dropping him to the floor. The others begin to curb stomp him. Then you un-sling your rifle and smash his face with the butt of your rifle. Then, you flip it around and proceed to stab him repeatedly with the bayonet. You can feel the blade break and penetrate his rib cage. Soon enough, he is little more than a bloody mess of flesh and bone. Hardly recognizable anymore.

“Dibs.” You crouch down to the body. You take as much as you can from it. Clothes, money, weapons, shoes, and any valuables. Everything. You stuff everything in your bag.

You almost feel over encumbered and unable to run!

When you’re finished collecting your loot, he is left with little more than his underwear

Finally, you collect the dog tags from both of the fallen soldiers. Examining the dog tags, you realize both of the patrolmen were no older than 18. You care little of it, and instead stuff the dog tags into your pocket. You like to collect the dog tags of enemies you’ve helped eliminate. Almost as it was a trophy collection.

“You done?” Mac asks.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You brush yourself off and fall back into formation.

You traveled the labyrinth for hours. By now, the thick stench of raw sewage has been forever burned into your nose. You’ve thrown up at least three time because of it. Luckily, you’ve yet to come across any more bad guys.

But you grew exhausted. Almost losing hope on every finding an exit. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. At the end of the sewer stood a storm drain dumped into the local river basin It would lead you right to the bridge

“Here! Over here!”

“There it is! The exit!”

“Where are the other resistance cells?”

“They’re on the other side of the gate! Right?”

“Fuck! It’s welded shut! I can’t get it open!”

“Use C4!”

“Anon! Get over here!”

You run over to the gate. “I’m on it!” You pull out your satchel and begin the planting process.

Before the war, you were a student at the local University. You studied engineering and was one of the higher ranking students. Every now and then you even managed to place on the dean’s list. It’s only natural that they would place you in charge of explosives. Anyone else would probably blow themselves up in the process.

Following orders you place a small C4 charge on the welded gate. You usher the others to a safe enough distance. You grab the detonator and prepare for detonation

“Ready?!” You yell to the rebels

The Rebels give you the thumbs up. You cover your ears

“Detonation in Three!….Two!….One!….”

The explosion knocks the gate clean off its hinges. The shock wave nearly topples you over. But you’re quick to recover. You grab your rifle and quickly dash out the exit. The resistance is following close behind.

Jumping out the sewer drain throws you into the canal basin The water is only knee deep, but it is near freezing. Quickly you wade to the near concrete shoreline. You stop for a second and notice it has stopped snowing.

The sky has cleared.

Looking up, you see the pitch black sky.

It is littered with hundreds of glimmering stars. All while the full moon hangs proudly overhead. The city’s main power grid have all been shut down. What little electricity that runs throughout the city is heavily restricted by the Estovakians. You take note that the bridge is one of the few areas that still has power. Should you try to approach the bridge, the street light’s would surely give your position away. Thus your highest priority would be knocking out the power lines to the bridge.

You look up to the huge suspension bridge. It’s one of the largest bridges in the city. At one point, thousands of commuters would cross this very bridge every day. It stands as a monument to your people and it’s way of life. Now? It must be demolished.

“Anon! Let’s fucking go! We’re leaving!” You take one last good look at the bridge. One last good look at the night sky. You grab your things and follow the others.

Venturing off into the darkness once more.

Chapter Two

The thick snow crunches underneath your boots. You’ve been walking for close to an eternity. The wind has picked up, howling violently making it almost impossible to hear anything. Your small group of fighters travels along the canal basin. It is pitch black, and you rely solely on the moonlight to see. The cool scent of salt water is a welcome contrast to the repulsive sewer stench. You take a whiff of your clothes, the stench of sewer waste and fecal matter fill your nostrils.

“…Holy shit…" you scruff.

Since the start of the war, many of the modern luxuries you took for granted were stripped from you. Clean clothes was one of them. It was bad enough already; but now it was going to take you weeks to get rid of this stench. You look down at your leather boots. You had just recently polished them to a glimmering shine, but now they are covered in muck and grime.

"The shit we have put up with...” you whispers as you trudge through the wastes.

Mac jabs you in the shoulder. “It will all be worth it Anon. One day.” He points to the city in the distance, the fighting is still rampant. “Soon, this city will be ours once more. We’ll know peace once again.” The thought brings a warm smile to your face. It’s what you’ve all been fighting for. What you’ve sacrificed so much for.

Soon enough, a flurry of lit structures comes into view. Several power transformers and generators are surrounding the building. Power lines that lead from the structure heads towards the bridge. You use a pair of binoculars to get a better view. It seems like a half dozen men are manned at the checkpoint. They are armed with assault rifles and small arms. It definitely seems like a feasible force.

“Alright! Listen up!” Mac shouts. “I’ve contacted the other cell’s via radio. They're on the other side of the canal. They’ve already started plant C4 charges along the support beams. However! They cannot proceed any further than where they are now due to heavy enemy presence.”

He points at the spot lights that are situated on the checkpoint

“In order for this operation to be successful, we need to take out the power around here. The other cell will finish placing their charges. And only then will we have enough power to take out the bridge.”

He looks over you.

“Anonymous." he shouts, "They tell me that their C4’s are synced with your detonator.”
You give him an understanding nod.

You sit position behind an pile of scrap metal. Probably the remains of a downed aircraft. Your rifle sits in your hands, all at the ready. You’ve since moved up and closer to the checkpoint The enemies are in plain sight. They sit lounging around a makeshift bon fire, chatting about.

A few other men crouch by your side. You note that one of them carries an old M60 Machine Gun. He probably picked it up from one of the old armories scattered throughout the city.

You sit and wait patiently. The cold nipping away at your exposed skin.

“Any minute now. Just hold steady.” The machine gunner tells you. His voice is firm and verdant It only reassures your faith in these men and their abilities.

Adjacent to the check point stands an old building. You can just barely make out the silhouettes of the other rebels on the rooftop against the moonlight. They throw several Molotov cocktails onto the enemies below. As the bottles shatter, they engulf the soldiers in flames.

"That's the signal!" the machine gunner shouts as he starts firing rounds at the enemy.

The heavy chugging of the machine gun is deafening. Regardless, you pull up your rifle and do the same. Rebels from atop the building pick off the enemy one by one. They didn’t stand much of a chance and the skirmish ceases as soon as it began. Once the coast it clear, you move into to get a better view of your ‘work’ Their bodies lay in a pool of their own blood. It gave you an immense sense of satisfaction. The team rummages throughout the checkpoint. Grabbing whatever they could find. They find a plethora of explosives, weapons and supplies. They all hand you whatever explosive they can, and you stuff them into your satchel.

You turn your attention to the power generator that sits in the middle of the checkpoint. It hums quietly with electricity. “Anon, take care of it!” With a quick nod; you move over to the generator. You place a small charge and make the proper adjustments to the detonator. Backing away a reasonable distance after doing so.

You produce the detonator from your satchel.

“Clear!”

You flick the switch on the detonator. The C4 detonates in a large explosion. Leaving the area covered in smoke and dust.Almost immediately, the area loses power and goes pitch black

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BBcPpHDJ4yQ
YES!
Objective Completed : Generator Destroyed!
CHARISMA +25

“Alright! Let’s head out! No doubt the Stovie’s heard the blast. They’ll be here any minute! Let’s go!” The group gathers itself before heading out to the bridge. You gaze around. The entire city is pitch black now. And for the first time in what seems like ages, you’re able to see into the night sky clearly. The stars dancing carelessly in the night. The light from the full moon is just enough to make out the silhouette of the bridge.

It was still a short walk away. As you begin the monotonous trek, your mind starts to wander.

You recall when this all began. Those first few days after the initial invasion were the worst. Without warning, Estovakian forces deployed throughout the entire country. They ran rampant about the streets, committing horrible war crimes.

People were being executed in the streets. Families were separated. Women and young girls were held at mercy to the lusty soldiers. Men and boys were sent to labor camps throughout the country. Never to be heard from again. Entire cities were leveled.

The bridge stands before you. A few months ago you stood atop of the bridge. You had just gotten confirmation that your family had been executed. With little else to live for, you had decided to take your own life. You stood at the ledge, ready to jump into the water below. The fall could easily kill you. You were pulled back to safety before you could do it.

The stranger that saved your life that day? His name was Makarov Petrenko.

Mac, for short.

He scolded you for even considering suicide. He ushered you to rethink your actions. Instead of throwing away your life, you should give it to your people. To fight in the resistance. You military was a shadow of what it once was. It was up to you to fight. Fight the foreign invaders.
Fight for a bright future.
Fight for a tomorrow.

--

After trekking through the labyrinth of the city, you finally arrive at your destination. You get a sinking feeling in your gut as you look down the stretch of road. This is it.
At this hour, the bridge has the least amount of security. There is no power. All the street lights are off. The area is nearly pitch black. They don’t suspect a thing.

Mac rallies the group together. They hand out knives and make shift suppressors. Attaching them to their weapons. Many simply used soda cans or oil filters to hide the muzzle flash. You question the effectiveness of such tactics. Mac looks to you.

“Do you have enough to finish the job?”

You make inventory of you satchel.“It’s not enough to take out the entire bridge. But we have just enough to make it impassable for the Stovies.”

“Good.” He gives you a friendly jab on the shoulder. “Make sure you keep your head down. Without you, this whole operation is FUBAR.”

He looks onto the waiting freedom fighters. “Gentlemen, We’ve fought a whole bunch of these. So I know you know what to do.”

You chuckle a bit. ‘A whole bunch of these’ is an understatement.

“But indulge me…. Move quickly, watch your back, cover your buddies, don’t bunch up. And for heaven’s sake, don’t stop until we reach the other side. May the golden king smile upon us.” And with that, you all moved out onto the bridge.

You moved quickly and with grace. Soldiers where stations far apart from each other. The few guards you encountered were taken out with style. They were shot with suppressed weapons, stabbed, or sometimes just pushed off the bridge. There were several cars still parked on the bridge. You bobbed and weaved throughout them to avoid the enemy. You were able to maintain your cover this way. The group advanced forward, dealing with any resistance; while you stayed behind. You hobbled across the bridge. After picking up extra gear at the enemy checkpoint, you found yourself over encumbered and unable to run. The bridge was held up by dozens of suspension lines that ran alongside it. Those where your targets. At each suspension cable you inconspicuously planted a small charge of C4.

It was a long and pain staking process. The cold wind nearly gave your hands frostbite. Slowly, but surely you made your way across the bridge.

Arriving at the half way mark, you begin placing another charge of C4. Your mind wanders. You could picture it in your mind. Envisioning how your life would be without this god damned war. Your goal is so close, you nearly see it. A smug grin makes its way onto your face.
“Finally.” You sigh to yourself
It finally ends.

“Shit! We’ve got company!”

“Stovies! To the north!”

“Fuck! I see vehicles!”

“Load the RPG’s!”

Your day dream is cut short by the cold reality. Your heart sinks as you look down the road ahead. It seems the knife cut both ways. The veil of darkness was effective in concealing your approach to the bridge. The Estovakian’s pitted the same tactic against you.

“It looks like an entire fucking platoon!”

“We’re fucked!”

“What do we do?!”

“Should we turn back?!”

“It’s no use! We’re sandwiched on both sides!”

“No! Not one step back!” a freedom fighter shouts. “Stand your ground!”

Lighting a Molotov, he chucks it at the approaching forces. You watch as the burning bottle hurdles towards your enemies. It hit’s its mark; Shattering against the hood of a jeep, and lighting its occupants on fire.

There’s a brief moment of stillness. It’s unnerving.

You feel all eyes watching each other for a brief moment.

That silence is soon broken. Both sides erupt in intense gunfire. Molotovs and White Phosphorus grenades are exchanged. You watch in horror as one of your comrades is caught in the flames. The smell of burning human flesh is horrible. His yells are ear piercing. Something you’d not soon forget.

You pull up your rifle and take aim. You took aim at anything that moved and fired as fast as you could. Some of your rounds hit their mark. Dropping several enemies to their feet. Dashing behind a car, you fumble around the pockets in your vest. Exchanging the magazine in your rifle for a fresh one. Rounds whizzed past above your head.

The machine gunner from before was set up next to you. He sprayed a storm of rounds into the street without stopping. The machine gun was deafening as ever. You had to cover your ears this time. He stayed out of cover for a while, chugging rounds at the enemy. They dropped like flies.
But to stay out of cover like that proved to be fatal. He was shot twice, both rounds landing in his head. As the bullet’s made impact, they splatter his blood all over you. His body dropped to the floor, twitching uncontrollably. His head was nothing more than a gory mess of tissue and skin. You nearly vomit.

Looking around, you spot Mac lighting another Molotov.

“Mac! Mac!” you shout. “What the fuck do I do with the rest of this!?”You gesture are the satchels fill with C4’s charges.
“Plant them! Plant them all!” You nod, and begin to do so.

The Estovakian’s proved to be too much. Their barrage of troops and LAV’s was too much for your feeble force One by one, the rebel fighters are shot down. You admire your fallen comrades. Each one of them fought bravely to their last breath.
You finish placing the final charge, and look for Mac to receive more orders. You spot Mac firing his assault rifle at the enemy.“Mac! I’ve placed the charges! What the fuck do I do!?” He turns you. Before he has a chance to say anything, three bullets tear through his chest. He drops to the ground.
“Mac! Mac!” You break from cover, running over to Mac’s aid.
Big mistake.
You were the last man standing, making you an excellent target. As you dashed across cover, you heard an onslaught of bullets coming your way.
You jumped for it.

Landing, you felt a single bullet tear through your shin. Jolts of pain erupt from your leg. It feels like the bone was shattered. You try your best to ignore the pain and crawl over to Mac.

“Mac! Mac! You’re gonna be alright! Just stay with me!” You hold the dying man in your arms. You try your best to carry him, but your leg prevents you from doing so.

“We’re gonna pull out of this Mac! We always do! We can do this! Mac? Mac?!” His warm blood dripping onto your frostbitten hands He doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply gurgles up blood. His eyes stare into yours. It’s as if he’s looking beyond you. Beyond himself.

He becomes limp.

And just like that.

He’s gone.

The enemy thinks you’re dead. You watch as they start to move in closer. Executing any incapacitated Rebels.
Is it really going to end here?

No.

You’d be damned if you let it end like this. You fumble around your bag once more. Producing the detonator. This is going to end on your own terms.

You gaze into the night sky. The moon hanging proudly overhead, almost like a sentient guard.

You vision is obscured by tears. But these are not tears of pain. But of joy.

One day, the people here will be liberated. The people will know peace and freedom once more. The beautiful country of Emmeria belongs to you. The Emmerian people. And only you.

Thanks to the efforts of people like the ones who gave their lives here today. You take great pride knowing that you became a part of this. You hold everyone that took part of this operation with the utmost respect.

You hold the detonator in your trembling arms.
“I’m sorry.”

You clutch the detonator to your chest, and flip the switch.

Author's Note

The original work is in greentext format. So if you find the occasional typo/formatting error, forgive me.

Chapter Three

Rebels in Equestria 3 - REDUX

You felt the shock wave from the explosion. The sheer force from the blast felt like it was shattering every bone in your body. You witnessed the fiery explosion claim the lives of others just as it began to claim yours.

For just a split second you felt it all. The sorrow and joy. The regrets. And above all, the pain. Both physically and mentally, you suffered. A pain so unbearable, it made you yearn for death. It was just a split second before your inevitable death. An event that at this point, seemed farther away than your childhood.

You felt regret for your actions. Remorse for your decisions And sorrow for your loved ones.For your journey ends here. You become nothing more than a casualty. An insignificant loss. A statistic. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't hide your true emotions. You've served your time in hell. And this was your ticket out.The blast takes it's toll and extinguishes your life. You were free. Finally.

But what of the others?

What of the hundreds of people who were stuck in this hell ridden place that they once knew as their home? Regret fills your very soul. You get this unshakeable feeling that you've abandoned them. Could you have done more? Could there have been another way?
…

Maybe. But you'll never know for sure. At this point, you're nothing more than a lost soul wandering in limbo. What else is there for you?

Religion never was a factor in your decisions. But is there really a god? Does he truly reside in heaven, judging your every action?

What did he think of you? Will he grace your noble efforts? Will you live out the rest of your time in paradise?
Or will he deem you unfit for such privileges. Doomed to spend the rest of eternity burning in the fires of hell.There's enough blood on your hands for it to very be so.
It's surreal. To wander in limbo is the only equivalent of having all your senses striped from you You're left with nothing but your very soul as you wander the impenetrable darkness. This is what death must be like. Truly it is an unreal state. You wander limbo without any senses to guide you.

Death; it's a strange place. A place where you don't exist. Yet a place where you can truly find yourself. Left with nothing but your thoughts and your very soul. It's maddening.
As you wander in the infinite abyss that is limbo, you recollect on yourself. Carefully analyzing and questioning every decision you've ever made.

Over the course of the war, you've committed horrible atrocities. Acts of inhumanity fueled by hate and vengeance You've done things you'd never imagine yourself doing to another living being.

Eleven months.

Eleven months is all it took for your life to end.

In that short amount of time, you've seen enough death and suffering to last you a lifetime, and then some. Some of it was of your own hand. But all that bloodshed.

Did it really accomplish anything?

Was fighting really the best option? Could you have done anything else? You weren't a member of the military, nor a simple civilian. No. You were part of something different. Something bigger than yourself. An underground resistance. A rebellion. A rag tag group of freedom fighters. With your fellow country men you “fought” day in and day out for the name of freedom. With nothing but the pathetic hope that your life would one day return to how it once was. Praying for a swift end to the war that has claimed so much.

Praying for the day that your children may once again live life without the fear of oppression. You fought each night in hopes that you could witness a new day. A new beginning. You chased a dream that you knew you would never come true. You even payed the ultimate sacrifice in the name of that day. A day you wouldn't live to see.

…

No..

It's not fair! Why'd those Stovie bastards have to show up! Those fuckers! They stole everything from you! They destroyed your home! They stole your friends and killed your family! They even cost you your very life! This isn't what you wanted from life. It's not what you can accomplish. It's just not fair..

You didn't want to have to join a resistance! This isn't it! This wasn't how it was supposed to be!

You have nothing. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to go back to.

There is no hope back there. No.

Not on Emmeria.

Not on that dammned place.

This isn't what you want. You don't want to go back. You don't want to start over!

“I just want... another chance.”

…

Slowly but surely you feel your pulse start back up. It's slow and labored rhythm is absolutely captivating. Your heart jump starts itself back up, and with it, a new beginning. One by one, your senses return to you.

Birds. You can hear the songs of birds all aorund you. The sounds rushing water fills your ears. There must be a stream nearby!

Light then floods your eyes. Blinding white light clouds your vision. With time, your eyes adjust to the light. Color fills your vision once more. Bright blue skies and beautiful white clouds are in sight. A cool breeze brushes against your skin. It's a refreshing sensation that sends a shiver down your spine and leaves your hairs on end. You can feel the soft grass underneath you. The long blades of grass itch against your neck. With the slight breeze, it carries the scent of a cool autumn day. Fallen leaves gust around and hit against you.

You lie on the ground motionless as you take in this scene. Focusing your newly regained senses as much as you can. Listening for even the smallest indicator...

…

You wait..

And listen. But..

Nothing. No gunshots. No explosions. No screaming. But most importantly, no war. Is this heaven? You sit yourself up and check the area.

You've awoken smack dab in the middle of a forest clearing. A cool breeze sways the tall grass with grace. The forest is bright with golden leaves. Autumn is in full swing here. You scan yourself for any wounds or other ailments. But amazingly you can't find anything. The wound on your leg, along with the rest of your body are almost completely healed. Deep scars are still here left as a testament to your war time endeavors.

Almost by second nature you scan your surroundings once more. Checking along the treetops and bush lines. But there's no sign of anyone else here. With that small sense of security, you relax your guard. A slight glimmer nearby catches your eye. It's shine is hidden within the dancing blades of grass. It captivates you and draws your attention. Pushing yourself off the ground, you make your way towards it.

You try to make your way to the light, but find it difficult to move about. Every muscle in your body ache's in pain.All your senses feel like they've been over loaded. One of your legs cramp up, and you fall face first onto the ground.

“F-Fuuuuck!”

Your voice is sore and dry. It's coarse sounds carry echo throughout the forest. You cough up a mix of phlegm and blood. The vocal chords in your throat feel like they’re on fire! Any attempts to speak only lead to a slight wheeze. You've thrown out your voice.

Despite all of this, you push onwards, your curiosity getting the best of you. You do your best to crawl towards your destination, ignoring the aches as best as you can. Clearing the tall grass out of the way you find the source of the shine. It was the polished finish of your revolver that caught the bright sun. It, along with the rest of your gear, was neatly placed out in front of you.

Right now isn't the best time to question this. Without further hesitation you delve into your equipment. There are several bags and satchels strewn about. Digging inside you find all of your old weapons and munitions. All of them fully loaded and ready to go. Within the other satchels, you produce various explosives and other tools. You don as much gear as you can, tossing the rest into a rucksack. You equip the automatic rifle and sling the other over your back.

By now, your cramps have subsided. You take in your surroundings one last time. Desperately trying to piece together today's events so far. …
Where are you? Are you dead? How did you get here? What of the others?

You pull your radio from it's holster and flick it on to one of the emergency channels. You hold it close to your ears, expecting to hear the voices of your comrades. … But you're met with nothing but silence.

“Hello?!” you shout. Your voice cracking at it's peak.

…

“Wolverine Squadron!”

…

“Wolverine Squadron!? Respond! Please respond!”

…

Your anxiety grows. Flipping through the other channels yields similar results. Nothing but silence. Tch. It must be the reception. A radio signal can only travel so far. And the interference from this dense forest makes it near impossible for it to travel farther than a few hundred yards. Maybe you're not alone here. You probably just need a better reception. A high vantage point to broadcast from.

You scan the horizon. While the treeline may be beautiful, it's nuisance at this point. The only land mark you can make out is the silhouette of a small maintain. It doesn't seem too far off into the horizon. Probably a couple miles or so. You juggle your options in your mind and recap the situation in your mind.
Despite having died in a terrible “accident”, you've awoken up to see a new day. You're surrounded by what seems like miles of forest in every direction. You don't know who or what is out there. You'd like to sit it out and wait for help. But it's still unclear whether you're alone here or not. To wait here would be foolish. It seems the only course of action is to press onwards. Before you set out, you take a moment to adjust your equipment. You had been dressed for nocturnal urban environments. While they were effective on the streets of Tarvo City, your dark gray outfit offered little use in the autumn woods.

You find your way to a nearby brook. The cool water feels invigorating. You grab some mud that was collecting at the bottom of the waterbed, smearing it across your skin and clothing. The thick mud leaves your clothes a dirty brown, giving some extra against the trees. With your weapons and gear in tow, you finally set out. You use the brook as your guide, following it upstream towards the mountain. With every step, you can hear leaves crunch underneath the soles of your boots. The forest is thick with various flora and fauna. As you travel, you can point out several small critters and birds. All of them scurry away at the sight of you.

“Heh.” something you've become all to familiar with.

Months of living with the resistance has changed you. The constant work and movement has kept you in top physical form. You cut through the dense forest with speed and grace. The constant blur of golden leaves becomes monotonous. Your mind begins to wander as you travel.

What really happened? Why are you alive right now? Is this the after life? Could this really be heaven? Or is this just some cruel joke played by a mischievous god? Where is everyone else? Have they arrived in this remote land as well? Is it possible that they've already regrouped? Knowing those guys, they've probably already started another war here.

All of which ultimately reminds you... How are things going back in Emmeria? Was the operation successful? Where the Estovakians finally driven out of your home? Has peace finally graced your home? You hope for nothing but a complete victory. Continuing forward, you maintain a cool and collective attitude. Doing your best to cast aside any notions of doubt or anxiety.
As you travel farther upstream, the bush thickens, hindering your progress. The thick tree canopy barely allows any sunlight to pierce the forest floor. The setting sun only makes matters even worse. Any sane person would call it quits at this point. But you've been through worse. Instead, you take a moment to rest. A large rock plastered on the stream's bank catches your attention. You take a seat and relax for just a moment. Cupping your hands you take a drink from the stream. The water tastes pure and refreshes your very soul. This water is a godsend compared to the filtered sewer water you had to live with.

You let out a hearty laugh. Never once did you imagine yourself having to rely on the sewers for shelter and substance. As the sun is begins to set; light becomes scarce. The night's first stars begin to peek through the twilight sky. You activate the flashlight on your rifle's end. It's bright light is nearly blinding in the darkness. But you're not satisfied with just a simple flashlight. Digging through your bag you produce a small glow stick. You snap it and shake it vigorously. It's green chemical glow fascinates you even as an adult. You tie one around your neck and keep digging through your bag.

At the very bottom of your bag, you find a small chocolate bar. You smirk in delight. You've been saving this for a rainy day, but what better time than now? The chocolate is absolutely delicious, and you savor every bite as if it were your last. Because in all reality, this silence is nerve racking. You've grown accustomed to the constant hardships of a war ridden nation. Day in and day out, you grew accustomed to the constant beat of gunfire. Much to your dismay, this silence is broken. Of in the distance, you hear leaves rustling in the bush. Without an ounce of hesitation you ready your rifle. You aim your rifle towards the tree line.

“Don't fucking try anything! I'm armed! Come out! Nice and slow!” you shout But despite your warnings, the sounds moves around the bush. You can hear twigs snapping and tree's being displaced as it circles around you.

“Don't fucking test me! I'll blow your fucking head off!” You follow the sounds with your rifle. They circle around you once more before stopping at the bush nearest to you. The bright flashlight does little to penetrate the thick tree line. But within the impenetrable darkness the flashlight catches the reflection of a pair of eyes.

“Y-You motherfucker! Get out here!”
It's then when you hear a low growl. It's an eerie sound that sends chills down your spine. You recognize it as none other than a lion's growl. The rifle's light dances as you struggle to keep the weapon steady. Your mind races with questions. But before you have a chance to lull them over, the beast comes into view. It slowly steps out of the tree line and into your sights.

“W-What the f-fuck...” you mutter.

You gaze onto the beast that stands before you. What seems like a horrible cross over between a lion and several other creatures. Dumbstruck, you stand motionless before what stands before you. He raises his scorpion tail up high. The thick stench of its poison fills the air. It slowly steps forward, bearing it's fangs.

“No...No...No!...No! No! No!” you yell. Your disbelief transforms into anger.

That...that thing! It's not real! It can't be! No! It's fucking impossible! It's just a bunch of shit!

It steps forward once more and lets forth a proud roar. A cry that is absolutely deafening, and could be heard for miles. But you've had enough of this bullshit. You release the safety and pull the trigger. Heavy chugging of your rifle is almost as loud as the bastards roar. You disregard any previous notions of proper marksmanship and spray bullets in that general direction. With a steady grip you manage the rifle's recoil as best as you can. Poor bastard never knew what hit him. The rifle snaps back as you empty the magazine. Before you, the beast lies slumped over the ground. His body is covered in wounds as he slumps in a pool of his own blood. The scorpion tail still twitches with life. You take one last look at the beast before you snap with anger.

“No!” you shout in disbelief. Your voice thick and commanding.You stumble over to the beast, kicking it as hard as you can.“You! You motherfucker! No! No!” With your side arm you end his suffering. You kick the lifeless corpse. This beast. This thing. It's a very damnation of god's natural order. What worries you is the fact that you've awoken in a land that harbor's such a beast. This must be the land of the damned. The place of reckoning. A land where the very laws set forth by nature no longer apply. A place where logic doesn't exist. A land inhabited by mythical beings all ready to kill. Worst of all, you have no idea what lurks beyond the next corner. Other than a few arms here and there, you have little to defend yourself against the unknown.

Your ear catches a low hissing sound. Almost as if something was wheezing and having trouble breathing. The sound, just barely in ear shot, is coming from the far corner of the clearing. Without hesitation, you reload your weapon and fire into the direction of the sounds. Picking up your things as quickly as you can, you sprint back up the stream. With your adrenaline pumping, you pick up the pace and truck through the forest. Occasionally you turn around just to check if anything was following you. And at any hunch of another presence, you fire you fire your rifle into the darkness, hoping to kill whatever lies in wait. You arrive at the foot of the mountain. With all your gear in tow, the ascent becomes difficult, but is feasible none the less. The air becomes cold, and winds start to howl. Luckily, your side of the mountain is a smooth ascent. No jagged cliffs here.

Your exposed skin starts to burn with each passing moment. So much so that your lose feeling in your hands. But you continue on so, finally reaching the summit. You turn around, rifle in hand, to ensure you hadn't been followed. Frantically, you aim your rifle back and forth.

But much to your relief, you're alone. You glance around at the summit A small natural springs pumps outs a steady stream of water. Several small tree and bushes gather about the source. The view up here is amazing. And you take a moment to take it all in. The surrounding forest stretches for miles in every direction. And just before the horizon, you can make out the forest's edge. Giving way to rolling country sides. The land here is raw and untamed. You are as far from home as you could ever be. You find the highest point on the summit and take a seat on the rocky ground. You produce your radio.

“Wolverine Squadron!”

…

...

...

“Wolverine Squadron! Respond!”

…

…

…

“Respond! Please respond!”

…

…

…

“Wolverine Squadron?! Phoenix Squadron?! Anyone! Respond! Please respond!”

… You try. And try. And try. But each call for help only brings about nothing but silence. Tears well up in your eyes as you bury your head in your hands. Ultimately falling into hysterics. The radio didn't work. Your only idea was a failure. You're stuck here. Alone.

…

You lull it all over in your mind. You've been through hell and back. Awoke in a god forsaken forest with little to no supplies. And no one at your side. But that doesn't mean it has to end here. There has to be a reason you're here. Right? You've broken the very laws of the natural order. You shouldn't be alive right now. It's strange. You're stuck in a place where you non-existent entity. Your mind struggles to maintain itself. Constantly replaying the last moments on the bridge to itself. The moment you detonated the bombs. The instant you ceased to exist. The moment you killed yourself. And the moment you killed everyone else? Why aren't they here? Why aren't they here with you? Are you truly alone right now? Is all this even real?

This mountain. This forest. You. Everyone and everything here. Is it all real? Or is it all just a hallucination? Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe this is just hell. Yeah. That's gotta be it.

And if that’s the case. There's no point.

You produce your pistol. And you feel it's hefty weight. It's polished finish shines in the moonlight. It feels as real, just as everything else does. You put the pistol to your head. The metal barrel prodding against your temple. Tears flowing from your eyes. Your breathing becomes labored. You grit your teeth.

You can't do it.

Your hands tremble. You feel light headed as you fall to your knees. Nausea overcomes you and you vomit all over the ground.

Have you lost your mind?

No.

Not yet.

It may or not be real, but whatever this is.. But this is it. It's what you've wanted. Your second chance. You pick yourself up from the puddle of bile. The cold night air pecking at your face. You gather firewood. And with what little you could find, you made a small fire. It barely provides any warmth. But it's enough. If just to keep you company. You dig through your bag once more. Getting a good feeling for your inventory of items.

During the war, you kept a large backpack with you at all times. You never slept in the same place twice, so it was best to keep everything with you at all times. Among your war supplies, you kept some of your closest mementos. Things like photos, books and journals. As you dig deeper and deeper, you produce an old gameboy in your hands. You let out a soft chuckle. The old gray and green device is absolutely dwarfed by your clammy grip. You find your copy of Tetris, and boot it up. And much to your surprise, the familiar “NINTENDO” logo still appears on screen. The 8-bit music starts playing once more. You tear up. It's nostalgic. And reminiscent almost like meeting an old friend. Using the moon and firelight, you burn through the game once more. Piling brinks with ease.

During the war, there was little time for comfort. But this was one of the few escapes from reality. A glimpse of your childhood before you. To reject your own world, and delve into another. It was beautiful. You enjoy your time with the game. Cherishing each moment spent. … As the night drags out you gather as much as much firewood available at the clearing. It's small golden flames danced with the howling winds. But the small branches and twigs could only last for so long. You turned off your game when your fire went out. Leaving you only with the black night. You gaze up into it. The stars are beautiful> And the moon looks especially marvelous this night.…

Leo.

You were born under the zodiac Leo. You scour the skies for the constellation. But you can't find it. You can't find anything for that matter. No Big Dipper No North Star. Nothing. You produce a pack of cigarettes and your Zippo lighter. You light the cigarette. Savoring its smooth flavor. No later than you finish your cigarette, you hear a motion in the darkness. The low hissing noise is back. It sounds like it's coming from all directions.

Without so much as a second thought you pull up your rifle and begin firing. This time, you fire in small controlled bursts. You flick the flashlight on and aim down the sights, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever is out there. Quickly jolting your rifle back and forth with each sound. But they're fast. And whatever is out there escapes your light. It's unsettling. You empty the magazine and load a new one. You can hear its movements. Whatever is hiding behind the shadows is not alone. There's probably two or three circling about. And they seem to be getting closer. You run through your second magazine in a matter of seconds. This time, you dig through your bag, hoping to find more ammo. But instead, you find something else.

A flare gun. Yes. Perfect! You ready the gun and aim for the sky. Shutting your eyes tight as you fire it into the sky. It takes a moment for the white phosphorus to kick in, but when it does, it provides a small amount of light. Enough so for you to be able to see around you. There, you can see silhouettes in the distance. You pull up your rifle and take aim. This time spraying at the target.

You reload your weapon once more and continue firing.

Beyond the gunfire, you hear a howling scream. And the silhouette falls to the ground. It yells out in pain. Screeching in a loud coarse voice. The other silhouettes call out from the darkness in response. You pull your gun up to the others and fire. You listen out for any signs of hitting your mark. But you get nothing.

The flare finally extinguishes itself in air. You sling your rifle and pull out the flare gun once more. You can hear the others strafe you and move towards the downed target. All of them screeching at the top of their lungs. It's a horrible sound that is sure to stay with you. You start running towards them. Moving toward the downed target, you reload the flare gun. But you're not fast enough. It takes a few precious seconds to re-fire the gun. And even longer for the flare to ignite within the night sky. And when it does, you arrive at where the target fell. All that remains is a dark pool of blood. You can see the tracks left by the beings as they dragged their comrade away. You aim the rifle down the mountain. Just barely, you can spot the beings crawling down the forest at break neck speeds. Their wounded comrade in tow.

Fuck.

They got away.

You contemplate running after them. But you note their tracks lead back down the mountain and into the forest. To venture in there would surely be suicide.An option you're not willing to take. Your white flare burns overhead for a few more moments. It slowly parachutes down the mountain side before burning out. Scanning the hilltops you aim for movement. But you come up with nothing. Content, you turn around and start to head back towards your camp site.

Those things. They were terrifying. And the way they called out to each other. It was wild. Primitive, feral even. You begin to analyze their pattern of attack. Checking the various footprints in the ground. When suddenly, you see it. You see a bright purple light glowing within the forest.

“What the fuck?” you mutter.

The purple light begins to glow brighter and brighter. When suddenly a small purple light shoots up from the thick tree line. It shoots up into the night sky and floats back down. It slowly extinguishes itself before another is shot up into the night sky again.

Its...

It's a flare!

You react quickly and fire another white flare into the sky. This time, angling it towards the source of the purple flare. Your flare lights up the night sky. And another purple one is fired up in response. It's someone. Someone has found you. It's a search party! Probably your squad! They must have gotten your SOS calls. Finally, you're going to be out of this hellish nightmare. Without so much as a second thought, you gather your things and makes your way towards the flares. The thought of finding your old comrades brings tears to your eyes. What you wouldn't give to hear the coarse voices of your comrades. Maybe if you're lucky, they'll have some cigars at the ready. Slowly, but surely, you descent down the mountain, firing a steady stream of flares. With your rifle at hand, you trek into the forest once more. In the distance you spot a faint purple light. You turn your flashlight to strobe and trek towards the light.

“Hey! Hey! Over here!” you shout. You inch your way towards the search party. In the distance, you hear some voices. It's a welcome contrast to the gargled growls you've heard all day.

“Yo! Mac! Team! Over here! I'm over here!” pressing through the bush you make your way towards the others. Finally, you come face to face with the search party.

“W-What...” you mutter. Before you stands six small horses. They're about the height of your waist. Each one of them has an oddly colored coat.

“No...No...No...”

The small horses, ponies, just stare at you. They're unlike anything you've ever seen before. Their manes look like they've been styled. They carry saddle bags. And they've also got small markings along their hind flanks. One of the first things you notice is the fact that they're all wearing some form of jewelry. Each one of them is a golden necklace with a jewel encrusted in the center. All of them, with the exception of a purple pony, who dons a tiara on it's head. Upon further inspection, you realize the purple and white ponies have horns upon their heads. The yellow and cyan ponies are also sporting a pair of wings. Unicorns and pegasi.

“W-w-what the fuck.” You pull up your rifle. All of you remain in a stand still

Somehow, you can see it in their eyes as well. You can see the same emotions in their eyes. Disbelief, doubt, curiosity, and above all: Fear. You lock in eye contact with the purple pony for what seems like an eternity. It's studying you. You can feel it's eyes prod all over you. It's maddening.

The purple pony takes a step towards you. You take a step back. “Woah woah woah!” you shout. It takes maintains eye contact, and gives you a deadpan stare. It takes another step forward before speaking in a foreign language.

…

Wait… Did it just talk? Did that fucking horse just talk? You stagger back as it moves closer. It carries a soft female voice.“Heyheyhey! Stay back! Stay back!” you shout.

You're not taking any chance with these things. But it doesn't let up. Instead, it begins to trot forward.

“No! No! Get away! Get the fuck away!!” The purple pony turns to speak with the rest of them. They all nod before turning to you. In the corner of your eye, you watch as the orange pony pulls out a rope from it's saddle bag. The purple one starts to yell something out. Suddenly, the purple one's horn begins to glow a bright purple. The same color as the flares. The rope is enveloped in a bright aura as it is levitated into the air.

“W-What the fuck...No. No! No!” You pull your rifle up and fire a barrage of rounds into the sky. They all flinch. The aura diminishes. You start to step back. Not turning your back on them. The purple one quickly regains it's composure. Quickly it starts it's horn once more. This time, it pulls out a book from her saddlebag and levitates it in front of her. She begins to step forward. Her horn starts to glow a bright purple. The two pegasi start to take flight. They all start to circle you. No. You've been fed up with the bullshit. You pull your rifle up and sprint towards the purple pony. Using your bayonet as a spear, you ram towards her, with nothing less than the full intention of killing her.

“W-What?!” you shout.

Your bayonet collides with a wall made of purple aura. The purple pony has a purple force field around you. The sheer force of the impact makes you stagger back for a few moments. But you're quick. You pull the rifle up to your sights and let loose. Spraying a flurry of bullets at the purple horse. That force field she deflects your bullets. You watch in horror as they ricochet of her shield and into the forest nearby. The other ponies flinch as the bullets ricochet near them.

Just then, the orange pony grabs the rope. She starts forms it into a lasso and throws it towards you. You try shift your aim towards her. But it's too late. The rope ties around your the barrel of your weapon. You fire it off again, but it's no use. She yanks the damned thing right out of your hands. Fuck! They start to circle you. You sprint towards the orange horse and tackle her to the ground. The both of you hit the ground with a loud THUD.

The orange horse tries to punch and kick you. But it's no use. You easily over power her. After a bit of struggling, you position yourself on top of the orange horse. You pull your arm back to land a punch But it's on use. In those crucial moments, the cyan pony takes flight. She picks up speed and dives right into you. The wind is knocked out of you as she makes contact. She knocks you to the ground before regaining her stance. You can see a coy smirk on her face and she returns to land.

The ponies all begin talking amongst themselves. If you had to guess, they were probably coordinating their attacks. The assault rifle is only a few feet away from you. This is your chance.

You make a dive for it.

But at the last moment, it is enveloped in a blue aura as it's dragged just out of your reach. The rifle is carried back to the white pony, the source of the blue aura.You regain your composure. You are completely surrounded by all of them. You've reached a stand off. The purple one starts to shout at you. Probably telling you off.

You reach for your pistol. The orange pony throws her lasso towards you, and grabs you by the hand. The white one uses her horn and grabs your other hand. They pull in opposite directions, leaving you completely defenseless.

“No! Y-You fuckers! W-Who the fuck do you think you are Let me go!” You thrash about. As they near you, you flail your legs. You kick up dirt.“I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! Let me go! Leave me alone! I didn't do shit!”

You stared at them all. The looks of fear still lingered in their eyes, just as they did in yours. The purple one smirks as she circles around you. She speaks to her friends before turning to you.

“Y-You! Assholes! Let me go! Please! Let me go!” But they ignore your cries.

Instead, they begin to go through your belonging. They ravage through your bag. Pulling out your precious mementos.

“H-Hey! Leave that shit alone! You hear me!? Drop it! Drop it! Now!”

Finally, the purple pony turns her attention to you. She speaks to you in a soft tone. She pulls your rifle up to your face, waving it about. She continues to speak to you. Her tone of voice carries confusion. Her horn starts to glow a deep purple.

“P-Please! Let me go! I-I don't wanna go! Not like this! No!” You watch as the purple pony shoots a bolt of aura at you. As it engulfs you, you begin to lose strength. As if the very life is being sucked out of your body. Soon enough you start to lose your vision and hearing. The ponies' voices start to get muffled out.

And soon, everything turns to black as they fade out.

Author's Note

This was originally a green text story, excuse any formatting errors I may have missed.

Chapter Four

Author's Note

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ugCkdPDRFw

Mood music.

Chapter Four

A soft voice calls out to you, awakening you from slumber. “Anonymous?” the voice asks. “Hey, Anonymous. Wake up. It's time.”

You groggily rub the sand out of your eyes as you come to. Sleep was a rarity amongst the ranks. And more often than not, you took every chance you could to get at it.

A soft touch prods you shoulder. Careful, and gentle, it undoubtedly belonged to a woman. The pale moonlit was just bright enough to reveal her features. Her pale skin was covered with dirt and scars. Her eyes were a brilliant teal that shined with grace, even in the dead of night.

She produces a thermos and pours you a small cup of coffee.

You allow the feeling of de-ja-vu to pass as you take in your surroundings once more. Is this s a dream?

Once again you find yourself in the back of the moving van. Quickly zooming down an abandoned highway. The rhythmic pitter patter of raindrops against the van's roof brings a sense of ease into your mind.

You glance around and spot the same familiar faces. Rag-tag freedom fighters armed to the teeth with a makeshift arsenal. Everything from hand-crafted pipe bombs to foreign RPG's. You rummage through one of your pockets, finding a pack of cigarettes. The small box has seen better days, but it still proudly reads “LUCKY STRIKE CIGARETTES” across the banner. It's a small luxury in this war; but it was one you could afford to share. Passing the box around, the van soon becomes flooded with cigarette smoke. You offer a light to the coffee girl, but she quietly declines.

She seems distracted. Lost, even.

You were about to ask her what was the matter, when suddenly the window between the van's cabin and cargo bay slips open. His radio floods the room, but he spoke over it with a booming voice.

“Aight. I'm sure you boys know the drill by now, but humor me for the moment.” The driver announces as he steers onto an exit ramp. “We're headed to the West Side of the City, and as you know, the Stovies haven't established a steady foothold to this area yet. Their supplies are scarce. And until they do, the forces stationed here are relying on whatever they can loot. The resistance has a reason to believe the Stovies have been using the gas stations along 6th and Hope Ave to fuel a carpool of sorts.”

You finish off the last of the cigarette and flick it out of the van. The driver continues on with his speech as you ready yourself.

“Your task is to poke around the around and see what's up. If the intel proves true, you're tasked to destroy this carpool under any means necessary. Alright?”

The van slows to a crawl, and let's out a heavy hiss at it halts. He parks it at the edge of the city limits. Once he kills silences the engine, the sounds of a waging war can be heard deep inside the city.

“This is as far as I'll take you.” the driver explains. “You'll have to book it from here.”

Your party disembarks.

“If all goes well, I'll meet you all here at dawn.”

He starts the engine. It's heavy chugging rings deep throughout the empty streets.

“I expect to see all of you back here when I return. No fuck-ups. You hear? Stay safe.”

The van drives away, and you quickly lose sight of it through the heavy rain. You turn to face your fellow squad mates as you make your final preparations for the night.

One of the fighters takes point. It's Mac.

“Alright boys, radios on.” he demands. You follow orders and flick the switch on your ear piece. As soon as you do, you ear becomes flooded with noise.

Radio chatter. White noise. Explosion. Gun fire. Men screaming. All in all, an indistinguishable mess of noise.

Mac pulls up his rifle and starts jogging to a nearby alleyway.

“Tune to Channel 141.12!” he shouts over his shoulder.

You oblige, tuning into the near silent channel. Mac's voice fills your ear piece.

“This is out channel for tonight.” he shouted, echoed by the radio feed in your ear. “Alright. Stay low, and watch those roof tops. First mark's only a few blocks away.”

The group heads further west under the cover of night. The rain picks up. Your parka does little to protect you from the water. You clutch your rifle and tread lightly. Each step echoes with a slushy squeak from your boots.

As you head farther west, the noise of war dwindles. For the military lines ares are currently held on the east side of town. Just on the other side of the canal bridge.

You trail behind the pack, the heavy bag of tools weighs you down some.

The radio comes to life with chatter from your squad.

“Hey. Hey. We're at 4th and Hope. Approaching the point of interest now.”

“Anyone got eyes?'

“Yeah, yeah. I see the old gas station, but not much else.”

“It's the fucking rain!”

“Shh. Shh! Quiet! You hear that?”

“Sounds like an engine?”

“Maybe it's the carpool?”

Out of breath, you catch up to the rest of your squad. They're perched by the alley's corner.

“Anonymous!” Mac barks.

You take a moment to wheeze out a simple “Yeah?” for a response. One that does little to amuse him.

“We need eyes and ears.” he says, pointing to an apartment complex on the other side of the street. “Head to the roof. We'll cover.”

Between your gasps for air, you let out a sigh of annoyance. But ultimately do what you're told with little hesitation. You dart across the street and slam against the complexes' wall for cover. A quick glance back shows the rest of the squad vigorously sweeping the street with their sights.

You cart around to the side of the building, to which you find an old fire escape. The climb isn't as daunting as you'd imagined, and you make it to the roof in no time. You perch yourself to the edge of a the rooftop and overlook the streets below.

From here, you see everything. The gas stations loom about a hundred yards to your left, while Mac and the rest of the squad is nestled to the alley on your right. And in front, a huge municipal parking lot is filled to the brim with military vehicles. The lot is completely fenced around by stone walls. It's only entrance is guarded by two Estovakian officers. One smoking a cigar by the gate, and another falling asleep on an MG nest.

“Anonymous!? What's the hold up?” your radio beacons.

“I've got eyes,” you whisper into the earpiece. “Looks like the intel was spot on. There's about a dozen cars in that truck in front of you.”

“I can't see shit from here.” Mac grunts. “There's a wall in the way.”

“Yeah. The lot is fenced in, you'd have to go around the wall. There's an entryway about a hundred yards down the road.”

“Stovies?” he asks.

“Yeah. Two guys.”

“Alright.” he scoffs. “Moving out.”

You watch as the small squad emerges from the shadows. They make a bee line towards the entryway. They hug the wall for cover and onwards. But they grind to a halt just before reaching the gates.

“What's the hold up?” you whisper into the mic, “You're good! Keep going!”

“It's too dangerous to go any further.” Mac replies, “Take out the MG guy. Make it quiet.”

You shuffle along to the far end of the rooftop, allowing yourself a clearer view of the man nestled behind the MG nest. You stow your AK and unsling your small hunting rifle along your back. It's small .22 caliber rounds were sufficient. It was accurate, quiet, and quick. And from this distance, it'd be just enough to critically wound the gunner. Resting your rifle on the edge of the rooftop, you aim for the gunner. Zeroing in your sights for the shot.

“Ok. I've got a shot. Ready when you are.”

In the corner of your eye, you see the squad ready up. Slowly shifting their way out of cover and towards the gates.

“Take the shot.”

You breathe in and pull the trigger. Twice. The kickback from the rifle is manageable to say the least. Two muffled 'pop' erupt from your rifle, and the soldier behind your sights erupts in a pink mist. Quickly afterward, you hear a few gun shots from the ground.

“They're down.” Mac calls.

“Good.” you reply, “I can't see anyone else from here. So it looks like you're clear.”

“Excellent.” he replies. “Hey, listen. Can you see the gas station from there?”

You look to the other end of the street, stretching your vision as far as it goes. And off in the distance, you can see the silhouette of the station. “Yeah.” you whisper.

“Good. Go scout ahead, plant some charges against the gas lines. We'll meet you there.”

“Copy.” you whisper.

You set aside your rifle and ready your AK. You start your descent down the fire escape as the rest of the squad moves into the car pool. They soon begin their 'work' on the vehicles.

“I'm on the street.” you call, “Making my way towards the station.”

“Copy.” Mac replies. The sounds of whirring power tools can be heard over his radio feed.

You quickly shuffle between buildings until the target comes into view. It was an old gas station built decades ago. There were a few pumps that were completely overshadowed by huge gas tanks not too far from them.

Tarvo city was industrial in nature. It housed one of the nation's largest ports and industrial complexes. The gas housed here was used to fuel the almost constant fleet of transport trucks that carried goods that flowed through the city.

With your AK set for full auto, you trek into the gas station. The overhead awning shields you from the pouring rain. You remove your parka's hood, and wipe the water off your face. And although you're grateful, you remain ever vigilant. You bob and weave through the pumps and long abandoned cars, making your way to looming fuel tanks in the back.

No hostiles. It's unnerving.

Quickly you scan the surrounding rooftops, searching for any silhouettes. But you find nothing.

Lightning cracks overhead, followed closely by booming thunder. The rain doesn't let up. Fierce winds whiplashes water across your face. The rain stop sting as the smack across your skin.

You pull out a satchel and remove a bundle of plastic explosives. You crawl underneath one of the gas lines leading from a tank and plant it. You've become efficient, and quickly travel down the fuel line. Planting a dozen or so charges. You finish planting the final charge against the base of the tank.

“Alright.” you whisper into the radio, “All charges have been plan-”

Gunshots erupt.

“Anonymous! We've got hostiles!” Mac shouts over the radio.

“Where?”

“From your end of the street!” he shouts. “They might not have noticed you yet! Just get to cover! We're on our way!”

You react quickly. Pulling yourself out from underneath the gas tank.

But before you could get to your feet, you feel a sharp pain across the back of your head.

It knocks you out cold.

A bright light burns into your eyes, and your natural reaction is to shield yourself. But try as you might, it proves to be useless. Your arms and legs are bound together by a heavy telekinetic force. It tugs against you whenever you try to move.

Your eyes quickly adjust to the light, paint a bright and vivid scene around you. The ponies from before are still here. But this time, you find yourself along a dirt path nestled along rolling fields. Dawn's golden light is just starting to break over the horizon. The ponies are still here. Talking amongst each other. They whisper back and fro in a strange language unlike anything you've ever heard before.

Small pebbles and grave dig into your face. Your cheeks are scuffed and your lip is slightly bloodied. You feel your wrists and ankles start to become sore with rope burns. The ponies have you hog tied against the gravel.

You gather whatever breath you can. But it proves to be difficult. Your breathing is coarse, and labored. And with every breath, a dull pain erupts from your left side of your chest. It feels as though you've bruised a rib, perhaps you've broken it.

“H-Hey” you whisper. You voice is dry and weak. It doesn't carry very far.

You watch as the purple unicorn paces back and forth frantically. She glances over to you, and double takes in shock when she realizes you've come to. They pause their conversation to approach you. As the purple unicorn approaches, a purple aura surrounds your body. Tightening your binds. She comes face to face with you.

“Let me go.” you croak.

She tilts her head in confusion.

The orange pony comes forward and starts poking you in the chest. You flinch in pain as she prods your sore rib. She carries a smug look of pride along her face.

“Untie me!” you shout.

The orange one stammers about, clearly startled. You try against your bindings once more, but they only become tighter. The purple unicorn addresses the rest of the group. They collect their things before starting down the dirt path once more. With her telekinesis, she drags you along. You shout in protest, but for the most part, they don't seem to bat you an eye.

You cuss them out at first. You promise them death threats. You say terrible things to them. But as soon as you realize that didn't work, you try to bargain with them. Pleading. Begging, even.

But they ignore you all the same.

Who are they?

What are they?

What do they want?

A cold shiver runs down your spine, leaving the hairs on your neck on edge. Brutal memories of the war flash before your eyes. You recall coming across the corpses of POW's during your travels.

Military, militia, and ever civilians were all given the same treatment. You'd come across corpses so mutilated and disfigured, they were barely even human. The words of Mac, your late squad leader, echo in your mind.

“You've seen what they've down to our comrades; our fellow brothers and sisters. To them, you are nothing more than a toy. They will break you. And they'll stop at nothing to get even the smallest amount of information out of it. They have no mercy, no remorse, and no limit. Under no circumstances are you to ever be taken hostage. Don't you ever give them that chance. Do I make myself clear?”

Suicide.

Your mind trembles at thought. As you glance around, you find all all your equipment has been stripped from you. The white unicorn is carrying them nearby with he own telekinesis. You let out a small sigh of defeat.

You let up on your struggles and allow yourself to be dragged along the beaten path. In this daylight, you take a moment to study your captors.

Small pastel colored ponies. Each one of them with a unique color pallet and hairstyle. And by the looks of it, each one with a completely different personality.

The entire walk, you've been stared down by the orange pony. Her eyes stabbing daggers into you. She seems uneasy, untrusted, or even hostile.

While on the other hand, the yellow pegasus seems to be a bit more timid. She flies close to you and occasionally tries to speak with you. She takes note of your cuts and bruises along your face. But you pay her no mind. Occasionally, you'd shoot her a deadpan stare when she'd fly to close to you, sending her off.

But the whole ordeal was short lived. Before you knew it, your party had arrived at it's destination. A small town cracked at the horizon. It's small building nestled between rolling hills. Houses of all sizes were neatly aligned between dirt roads. They were all constructed using simple materials. Wood. Earth. Masonry. And glass. All in all, it gave a simple and inviting feel to the place.

A start contrast to your steel and concrete city.

It was all so peaceful and verdant. It seemed like a vacation town.

Your mind wanders. Where are the others? Mac and the rest of your squad? What of the the resistance movement back home? What of the war?

Your militia training pops into mind. The resistance never issued cyanide pills. There wouldn't be enough to go around. Instead, they advised one to bite their own tongue off. With any luck, one would sever one of the major arteries and bleed to death before being tossed into a Stovie interrogation chamber. You shudder and the thought and dismiss it.

The rows of houses eventually gave way to an enormous tree nestled in the middle of town. Truly, it was breathtaking. Thick roots planted into the ground gave the tree ample support. A small door and a pair of windows were carved into the tree itself. More balconies and windows were perched on various branches through the tree. You silently marveled at it's grace before being ushered inside by the ponies.

The interior was of the tree was almost as breathtaking as the exterior. You swear that the inside was bigger than the out. Dozens upon dozens of shelves lie carved into the walls. Each one of them packed to the brim with books and scrolls. Was this a library?

The usher deeper inside, and place you on a couch obviously too small for you. Your gear is still being carried by the white pony, who only watches you cautiously.

You feel their eyes.

Watching. Studying. Examining.

The purple unicorn trots up to you. She speaks a few words to you. She carried a curious tone in her voice and waits expectantly when she finishes. But you cock your head to the side, and only offer silence.

The yellow pegasus returns from the other room, presumably a kitchen. She carried a tray full of food and drinks. Fresh fruits and vegetables served up on fine china. She hands out food and drinks to the other ponies, to which you watch in envy.

Food has been scarce. It always has been. You stomach growls at the sight.

But the yellow pegasus takes notice. She grabs an apple from her plate and slowly hovers over to you. She lands on the couch next to you before saying a few words to you.

You remain silent.

She holds the apple over to you. A large smile fills her face. You feel the telekinetic bindings release from your body.

Your arms are freed. But, in the corner of your eye, you can see the orange and ponies ponies preparing a rope. The purple pony also eyes you cautiously.

No chance at pulling an escape here.

You look back to the yellow pegasus. She stares deep into your eyes as you do to hers.

Eyes of innocence. Grace. And kindness.

Traits no Stovie could ever carry.

You've been though hell and back. Any kind gesture now is one you'd take to heart. You reach out and grab the apple from the yellow pony's hood. You take a bite.

It's been a while since you've had fresh fruit. Fresh food had become a luxury during wartime embargoes. Most of your food came from a can, and sometimes that included trash cans.

It could have been months since you've last had something 'good' to eat. But honestly, you've lost count of the days.

You look to the yellow pony. You could feel her anxiety. Waiting to see what your next move was. But honestly, it was a mutual feeling that you tried to cast aside.

You place your hand on her head and pet her a few times. She is wary of your touch, and cowers slightly as your hands make contact. You run your fingers down her mane. Once she realizes you mean her no harm, she gives caution to the wind.

You raise your hand against yourself.

“Anonymous.” you announce.

You repeat the gesture a few times before they seem to catch on.

The purple unicorn steps forward. She raises a hoof and presses against her chest.

“Twiliiiight” she slowly announces.

You both smile.

You take a bite into your apple. The sweet flavor enriches you taste buds.

“Thanks.”

Chapter Five

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter Six

Your body aches, your vision is black and your mind is numb.

But your hearing is acute. All around you, the sounds of rubble and metal twisting engulf your hearing. Car alarms ring off into the distance. As your senses slowly come back to you, the realization of your situation sits in. A slow crawling heat brushes against your side. Smoke fills your lungs. And the taste of oil fills your mouth. The sounds of fire burning sounds off closer to your ears, and with it desperate calls for help. Some belt out for help, while others simply scream out in pain. There's no doubt in your mind that they are being burned alive. You try to gather the energy to move away from the heat, even if only by an inch. But even the slightest movement sets off the worst pain. You lie against the oil slicked floor, sapped for energy.

What little strength you have, you focus into your voice. With each breath you take, a rush of smoke fills your lungs. You open your mouth and try to shout for help, but instead let out a hoarse croaking noise. It's pathetic.

You gather your energy again to try again, but that's when you hear it. Sirens.

Air raid sirens.

You've heard this sound just minutes ago before the building your were in was painted by bombers. As the unmistakable siren echoes through the city, it freezes your blood cold. They were going for another bombing run.

“H-Help!” you cry. Your lungs feeling like they're going to burst. A loud booming sound can be heard overhead. The planes are getting closer. You can feel it.

You open your mouth to shout once more, but are cut off. The screams of men around you are silenced in an instant as a hard screeching noise fills the air around you. Ear shattering explosions echo throughout the city. The ground beneath you gives way. And for just a moment, you feel a sense of weightlessness before hitting against something with a loud thud.

The world around you slows down to a crawl. You can feel the warm blood dripping from your head. Your vision bobbles in and out. Breathing becomes difficult. And your body soon becomes cold and numb. As you crawled closer and closer to death, your pains simply melted away.

It feels good.
Too good to be true.

A heavy electrical buzzing noise fills the air.

“Clear!” someone shouts. Her voice solid and stoic. Suddenly, you feel a burst of electricity coarse through your body. It jump starts every muscle in your body, causing your to seize uncontrollably.

You take a deep breath of air and feel your heart jump back to life. It's beat is weak and sporadic, but it's a start. “Clear!” she shouts.

And no sooner do you feel another jolt of electricity. Your vision resets and you feel pain all over your body. You let out a primitive cry and thrash about. Pain erupts from your back and arms. It courses down your spine and throughout your body. You cringe as your muscles start to spasm uncontrollably. The same woman from before shouts again, “Hang on- Hey! I've got pulse! I've got a pulse!” She calls out for help before turning back to you.

“Easy. Easy now. You're gonna be fine.”

You glance up to her. The cool blue moonlight gives off just enough light to reveal her features. She stares down with a pair of huge teal eyes. Her hair is as deep and rich as the night sky before her. By the looks of it, she's only a few years older than you. She slaps your cheek a few times to catch your attention.

“Just stay with me, kid. We'll get you out of here.”

She calls out to a group of men who come to your side. Your throat is thick with a mixture of blood and phlegm. It's hard to breath. But you manage. Blood and sweat cloud your eyes, but your eyes adjust to your vision. The moon and stars hang solemnly above the city high rises. Cold sky scrapers reach high above. You glance to your left. There are a few cars lining the city streets. A burning ambulance catches your eye. It's windows are completely shattered, and it's doors have been blown clean off. The side of the car reads “TARVO CITY GENERAL HOSPITAL” You try your luck again, and start to pull yourself off the floor, but are halted by the jarring pain. Your body is pinned against something. And it's impossible to move.

There's rubble everywhere. You can feel specks of dirt and rubble deep in your lungs. The cries of men fill the air. Screaming. Crying for help. Off in the distance, you hear the air raid siren. Along with the tell tale sounds of bombs going off. Small explosions go off in quick succession.

Suddenly a flurry of voices erupt from around you.

“Ready!? Lift this slab!”

“Okay! On three!”

“One! Two! Three!”

“Fuck!”

“Lift harder!”

“There! Pull him out! Pull him out!”

You feel several hands grab along your body and pull you out from the rubble. You shout in pain as they grab the burns along the side of your body.

They carry you away, and you catch a glance of the wreckage you were pulled from. What once was a makeshift hospice now lies in ruin. All that remained were scraps of twisted metal and jarring concrete. Dozens of men are scattered throughout the scene acting as rescue workers. Desperately trying to free those trapped inside. Your mind races to the few moments before this all started. You were stationed on a balcony just outside the building's main entrance. Lucky you. The men place you down a fair distance away from the wreckage before heading back to the fray. But the woman stays at your side. She lies your flat on your back and starts unbuttoning your shirt.

“Hey-hey! Kid. Look at me. You're gonna pull through.” Her voice almost dwarfed out by the explosions breaking all around you. She slaps your cheek once more to grab your attention. “What's your name, kid?” she calmly asks. You cough up some blood before managing a response.

“A-Anonymous.” you croak. She cuts through your clothing and exposes your chest. She lets out a playful scoff before starting to treat your wounds. “Now this might hurt a bit. But just bare with me.”

Her cold hands run along the length of your body, applying gauze and ointments to your burns. She produces a small syringe and injects you with its contents. You wince in pain as she applies pressure to your wounds. Blood seeps out of her hands and drains all over the ground beneath you. You feel her cold hands press against your abdomen. It's strange. The pain is starting to go away...

She grabs a piece of nearby piece of debris and uses it to prop up an IV line. “Now don't you worry Anonymous, I've got an excellent track with this line of work.” she proudly declares. “I'll get you and up and running, better than new, in no time!”

You hack up a bit of blood before weakly responding. “Gah, that's exactly what I'm worried about.” She belts out a hearty laugh before returning to her work.

“Hey now, don't go soft on me. We need you back in action, Anony-” Gun fire erupts not too far from here. You can hear chaos break out just a few blocks away. A few men who were in the rescue effort have taken up arms and began marching toward the gunfire. The radio on your shoulder springs to life with combat chatter. Yet, the woman mending your wounds seems completely oblivious to all this. She looks back at you with a cool, calm collective face.

“What unit you from?”

You turn your head to face the sounds. Your eyes stricken with fear.

“Come on now.” she mumbles while fumbling with her sutures. “Don't be scared. You'll be fine. Now tell me, what unit? You with the boys in Alpha? Bravo?” You glance back to her and shakily reply : “E-Echo.”

She gives you a surprised look on her face. “Echo unit, eh? How a scrawny shrimp like you end up in Echo?”

“B-Bad luck..”

She chuckles under her breath. “Echo is reserved for the cream of the crop. And.. Well, you're certainly no military commando, that's for sure. So that must mean you're a specialist or something. Am I right?”

“E-Explosives..” you grunt. You feel your head lighten.

“Well then Anonymous,” she declares as she finishes suturing a wound. “We can't afford to lose guys like you. For one thing, you might actually know how you're doing around here. It's hard enough finding guys to volunteer for this shit as it is.”

You let out a soft chuckle. She leans you over to your side and places a makeshift stretcher underneath you. You gasp in pain as she grabs your still tender wounds.

“There. There. We're almost done here. We're gonna get you out. Understand?” You try to give a nod. But it's difficult. Your body gives out. And your’e overcome with a general sense of helplessness

“Anonymous?” the medic asks. “Anonymous!?”

You become loose and your head plops back onto the ground. Each breath becomes a struggle in itself, one that proves to be too difficult.

“I'm losing him! I'm losing him!” the medic shouts.

She flicks a switch against her headset.

“This is Charlie One! Charlie One to command!”

Her voice echoes in the radio transceiver hung around your chest.

“I've got a priority one patient, located just south of the hospice. Requesting immediate medivac!” Gun fire whizzes nearby. She flinches.

“We need to pull out!” she barks to the other medics. The darkness creeps in from the corner of your vision. “Anonymous?” she shouts, “Just stay with me! Just stay wi-”

Her voice is cut short.

Red mist splatters from her body onto her face.

Streams of blood land on your face and skin.

She clutches her stomach and falls to the ground, writhing in pain.

You struggle.

The crippling darkness engulfs your vision. One by one, your senses go flat. You order body. To move. To do anything.

You jerk your arms.

Move damn it.

You kick your legs.

Come on…

You thrash your body.

Fucking move!

You muster what little strength you have.

“N-No! Help!” you croak.

“Hold him down!”

“I-I can't! He's kicking around too much!”

“S-Stop him! Before he hurts somepony!”

“Hi legs! Tie his legs!”

You feel a barrage of hands holding you down. They pin you down to the cold floor. It's a horrible feeling.

“S-Stop! Please!” you shout.

Those voices, they sound familiar. Your eyes quickly become adjusted to the new light as you glance around. Twilight hovers over you. Her face plastered with worry.

“Are..” she whispers “Are you alright?”

Her voice mesmerizes you. You stare long and hard at the purple unicorn. You glance around once more. You're still in the throne room. The other ponies close by.

“Anonymous?” Twilight meekly asks

You snap back at her.

“Are you alright?” Her voice echoes throughout the throne room. You pause for a moment to collect your thoughts.

“Y-Yeah.” you croak. “I'm just...shaken up.”

You sit up, to which the ponies crowd around you. Placing one foot in front of the other, you try to stand. But your body is still stiff from your ordeal. And you quickly stumble back to the ground. The ponies catch you before you hit the floor.

“Careful!” Twilight barks. “Are you alright!?” You groggily place one hand on her head, and reassure her you’re fine. “Is there anything we can do for you?” she timidly asks.

“W-Water.” you croak. “Please. I need water.”

The royal pony steps forward, and casts a magic spell. A flash of white light blinds your eyes. Once it settles, you see glass bottle and cup floating in front of you. You ignore the cup and go straight for the bottle. You barely have time to savor the taste. Clean, crisp and cool. A luxury you couldn't afford in the war. You finish the bottle and hand it back to royal.

“T-Thank you.”

“You're most welcome.”

You glance up at the royal pony. Something about her seems all too familiar. You feel as though you've met her before in some other place. You scour your mind for what seems like ages before it hits you.

“Celestia?” you whisper

Her ears perk as you mention her name.

“Your name. Princess Celestia. Isn't it?” She smiles, and for a split second you can almost see a wave of a relief pass over her. “Yes. It is.” she mentions. “I take it my spell worked.”

“Barely.” you mutter.

“Can you stand?” she asks.

“After that episode back there? I hope so.”

Her faces cringes at the pain in your voice. She quickly trots to your side.

“I'll help you.” she whispers. Her horn glows white and your body engulfs in a rich white aura. She lifts you back onto your feet. You wrap your arm around her neck and lean on her for support. She pulls you up to stand and helps you up. This time, you feel a certain sense of weightlessness in your step.

“There. There.” the royal whispers. “One step at a time.”

“Where are we going?” you ask. She doesn't respond. The rest of the ponies follow suit. They whisper amongst themselves the entire way out.

Celestia doesn't tell you where she's taking you. Instead, she leads you out the throne room and through the halls, albeit slowly. Many of the castles denizens stop in their tracks once they spot you. You try to ignore their stares.

You arrive at a set of tall white doors.

“We're here.” the Celestia declares before swinging them open. Inside rows and rows of hospital bed line the walls. Celestia limps your over the nearest one and helps you on.

“There. Just relax.” she coos. “You're safe. We'll take care of you.”

“Is he alright?” Twilight nervously asks.

“He doesn't look alright to me.” the Cyan Pony replies “Is that blood running down his side?”

Her voice. It sound familiar.

She prods a hoof into your chest. A dull pain runs down your body. Your body, it's still sore. “Don't touch him!” Twilight shouts.

“Celestia?” an unfamiliar voice calls out. “Celestia? Is that you?” Her voice echoes from another room.

“Yes. Nurse Redheart. It's me!” Celestia responds. “I hope it's not too much of a burden, but one of my guests here has fallen ill. Could you be a dear and give him quick checkup?”

“Why, I thought I heard a familiar voice.” she hollers from the doorway. “Anything for you, Celes-” She rounds the door way and finally lays eyes on you. She stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes widen, and she drops the pan she was carrying. She quickly glances back between you and Celestia, her eyes begging for an explanation. Celestia leaves your side and walks over to the nurse.

“Nurse Redheart? This here is my guest.” she so. “His name is Anonymous.” Nurse Redheart simply stares in confusion. She doesn't break eye contact with you.

“Now. Now. Don't be shy.” Celestia jests. “He doesn't bite. I promise.”

“Celestia?” she whimpers “What is that?”

“My guest.” Celestia starkly replies. “He is wounded. Please, won't you help him?”

Nurse Redheart looks at you with cold curious eyes. She examines every inch of your body before turning back to the princess.

“Anything for you, Celestia.” she coldly responds. Heading to the other room she returns with a cart of medical supplies. She reaches out and touches your arm. Hesitantly, she extends it. All the meanwhile, she keeps her dead locked onto you. With a frightened look in her eyes, she carefully watches to how you'd react. Eventually, she loosens up as curiosity get's the best of her. She holds your hand in her hoof.

“It's beautiful.” she whispers.

She takes her hoof and runs it down your hand down along your muddy clothes. She pulls back on your sleeve, revealing your skin. It's swollen, peeling and sore to the touch. With a curious look, she turns back to the princess.

“I'll need him to undress.” she worriedly declares.

Princess Celestia simply nods before turning to you.

“Anonymous?”

You give a quick glance over to Celestia.

“Can you do it yourself? Or would you like my help?” she asks.

“Please.” you reply. “My head is still spinning.”

Nurse Redheart's ear perk up at the sound of your voice.

You let out a heavy sigh before you start to remove your clothes. Celestia uses her telekinesis to give you a hand. Layer by layer, she remove your upper body clothing. The air is cool, and you feel goosebumps rising along yourself. The only thing left on your body are various makeshift bandages across your chest and back. Old torn up shirts and rags hold your wounds in place. All of which are stained in a deep red. A soft audible gasp is heard throughout the room as you reveal yourself. Many of the ponies step back in shock. You can see the horror in their eyes.

Your time in the war has taken its toll. Both mentally and physically. Heavy scars and wounds run across your body. Burns run across your back. Your skin runs charred and wrinkled. It runs all the way down your arms and onto your neck. There's almost no hiding it. It's a heavy burden. But one you've become accustomed to.

Save for the sounds of a flickering candle light, the room is silent. It's a dreadful silence. One that you wish would end.

Yeah. Take a good look. This is what I've become.

This is who I am.

Celestia's hooves make a soft clopping sound against the marble floor. She stands by your side, giving off a warm and boastful aura. You hear the soft ruffle of feathers as she runs her wing along your back.

“These burns?” she asks “Are these from the-”

“They're from the hospital.” you interrupt. “There wasn't enough to perform a proper skin graft. So I'm stuck like this.”

She drapes her wing over your shoulder and exchanges glances with you. She's silent. But her eyes say it all.

I know.

I saw.

And I'm truly sorry.

She looks like she's on the verge of tears. You can just see the pain in her eyes. True pain.
You break eye contact and glance to the others. Twilight and the others are whispering amongst themselves. They sound worried. Frightened even.

But you wouldn't hold it against them.

“Well then.” Redheart announces. “I'd better get started then.” Nurse Redheart takes a wet sponge from her cart and starts washing along your body. The water is warm and inviting. And the mud on your skin falls right off. She hands you a small wash cloth.

“Give me a hand, won't you?”

You take it and clean yourself off little by little.

Next, she grabs a pair of scissors and starts removing the makeshift bandages. Her eyes squint in disbelief during the whole procedure. But one by one, Redheart removes you dirtied 'bandages' and replaces them with new ones.

“This should help with the burns.” she declares as she rubs various ointments along your skin. They're cool to touch, leaving you with goose bumps. She moves down your body, all the way to your legs. It takes a while, but Redheard finally finishes up with her patch job.

By the time she finishes, she's nearly got your entire body covered in gauze.

“There.” she remarks. “That should hold him up for a few days.”

“How is he?” Twilight asks “Is he well? What about those cuts?”

“Those wounds? They've healed.... Well, mostly.” She glances over to you.

“How long does he plan on staying here? I think I'd like to keep an eye on them just to be sure.”

Celestia glances at you.

“Permanently.” Celestia beams. It's barely visible, but Redheart cracks the tiniest smile. You can see the excitement in her eyes. She must be giddy with joy to be able to play doctor on you. Whatever her feelings may be, she does an excellent job at maintaining her professionalism, for the most part.

“Good.” Redheard responds. “In the meanwhile, he should get some rest. I expect him to check in with me at least once a day.”

“Thank you, Nurse.” Celestia replies. Redheart glances at wall clock, and turns back to Celestia

“I'll be finishing my rounds for tonight, anything happens, just give me a holler.”

Celestia nods.

And just like that. Redheart disappears, leaving a cold silence in the room.

“How are you feeling?” Celestia smiles warmly.

“Better. But not quite there yet.”

“Well,” she starts. Her voice on the cracks with remorse. “You've been through a lot, Anonymous.” She pulls a blanket over you and lies you on your side.

“But you're safe here. With me-...” she pauses. “....With us.” She prods your shoulder with her horn, and engulfs your body with a rich aura. A sensation of bliss and relief washes over your body. And just for a split second. You escape your pain.

Bliss.

You stare deep into those bright pink eyes. There, you see nothing less but of compassion, sympathy and understanding. They alone say everything that's needed to be said.

You've been through a lot. And I understand.

I've seen your pain. Felt it even.

Your sacrifice. It's not something just anyone can understand.

But I do.

I've been there. And I'll be there.

For you.

Her spell is running it's course. Your eyes feel heavy. Your body begins to fall numb.

“Rest easy Anonymous.” she whispers.

“You've earned it.”

Chapter Seven

With each far off explosion, dust flakes from the ceiling. You wince as some of the dust falls on your face. The air is stale and reeks of death. The small ceiling fan does little to circulate the heavy smog. The still air is shattered by a frantic voice.

“Fuck! No! Please! Anything but that!” he shouts. “Please! Not my legs! Please!”

You hear signs of a struggle.

“Doctor! Shit, man! There's gotta be another option!”

There's a slight pause. “There's no other option.” the doctor replies. “We must operate.”

Doctor.

Operate.

The picture paints itself. It's a medical ward. A makeshift one at best. You manage to bat the sweat and tears out of your eyes long enough to regain focus on your vision. IV lines across and about your body. Blood and sweat sopped bandages are wrapped across your body. With each attempt to move, your body screams in pain.

A thin curtain is hung between you and the next patient. A bright lamp casts shadows onto the curtain. There are three silhouettes.

“Fuck! You can't take my legs! No! Please! Doc, I'm begging you!”

“Nurse!” another voice shouts, “Nurse! Hold him down!”

A nurse hastily replies with a quick “Yes, doctor!”

“No! Please!” the patient shouts. His voice becoming more, and more desperate. “Please! Don't take my legs! I-I don't want to be a fucking cripple! J-Just kill me! Please!”

“There's not enough morphine to go around,” the replies. His voice calm and stern.

You hear a drawer opening, and some rattling before the doctor replies “So put something this his mouth.”

“A-A wood block?” the nurse replies. “Isn't that a bit, primitive?”

“It works.” the doctor barks. “Just do your job and make sure he doesn't bite off his own god damned tongue.”

“Just hold still son,” the doctor replies. “This will all be over in a second.”

“No! Please! I'd rather die! I don't-” The patient's cries become muffled, but continue throughout the procedure.

You stare back up to the ceiling, continuously fighting the urge to keep your hands from trembling. The unique aroma of blood and puss wafts it's way into your nose. That, combined with the bone crunching sounds of the operation next door twists your stomach. It's too much.

You get the urge to vomit and begin dry heaving.

The doctor next door pauses for a moment before continuing on with the procedure.

“Nurse, I can take it from here. Be a doll and check up on number twenty seven.”

“Yes, doctor.” The nurse rounds about the curtain and makes her way to your side. You look up and lock eyes with her.

It's the woman with blue hair.

She seems a bit pale. You glance her over, only to realize she too is covered in bandages. A thick stain of blood has begun to sop up around her abdomen. Right where she was shot.

“Doctor.” the nurse shouts. “Twenty seven is conscious.”

“Excellent.” the doctor replies. “Prep him for discharge.” The nurses' eyes grew wide at the order.

“Discharge?” she questions, “Isn't- Isn't it a bit early to be considering that? We don't even know if he's stable yet.”

The doctor pauses.

“He's been on that bed for weeks. The only reason he's still here is because Makarov vouched for him, and the last thing I need is that fucking Stovie on my ass. We need that bed. Bastard's lucky enough I didn't pull the plug on him weeks ago. If he's 'stable' enough to maintain consciousness, he's stable enough for discharge. Prep him.” The nurse puts on a defeated look before turning to you.

“I'm sorry, Anonymous.” She pulls out a small syringe from her coat. Carefully injecting it's contents into your IV line.

It's slight at first, but you feel the medicine begin to run it's course. Your body begins to sweat. Your nerves begin to tingle. And you can feel your heart start to burn up.

The drug awakes you in an instant.

The blue haired woman was no longer by your side. Celestia instead took her place. Your ears are still ringing from the moment of impact. A soft touch brushes against your side that sends a chill down your spine. It’s Twilight’s.

“Anonymous, are you alright?” she asks in a curious tone.

The ponies are still here. Twilight and Celestia stand right by your side. The others are found dozing off in chairs nearby. The bright morning light shines through the windows. Your watch alarm goes off. Eight AM. You feel a tear run your cheek, one that you quickly wipe away.

“Do humans always shout in their sleep?” Twilight asks.

You reply with a solemn “No.”

“You’re awake.” Celestia chimes, “How are you feeling today?”

You gather your thoughts for a moment before responding.
“Better.”

You glance around to find the hospital unchanged since your last bearings. You’re still here. Wherever this may be. The others awake from their slumber and gather themselves around your bed.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to wake up!” Celestia chimes. She brushes her wing over your shoulder, gently grazing over the bandages.

“How are the wounds?” she asks. “I can summon Nurse Redheart again. Or if it’s too much to handle, I can try to ease the pain with my magic.”

Magic?

Is that what she call's it?

Although it would describe to most of this world's phenomenon, it wouldn't necessarily give a valid explanation. You brush the notion aside as the thought of being caught under her ‘magic’ sends a shiver down your spine. Afraid she’ll cause more harm than good, you decline her offer.

Without much else to say, you pull yourself up off the bed. Your legs tend to buckle under your weight, so you keep a steady hand on the wall leaves you with ample support. But with even the slightest movement, your body screams in response. Pain fills your every nerve. Though it’s a manageable pain, one that's almost become part of your daily routine. And like all sorrow back in Tarvo, it's one you've done well to mask.

Your own two legs begin to buckle under your weight. Celestia tries to help you to your feet, but you hastily whisk her aside. I can stand on my own. Thank you. Towering over the ponies once more, you find all eyes on you. Celestia is quick to break the silence.

“Are you hungry, Anonymous?”

“Hungry?” you ask. It's a strange question. But strange is as strange gets around here.

“Because I believe this is an excellent time for a meal.” She cheerfully states, “Anonymous, care to join us for some breakfast?”

Slightly agitated, Twilight starts up. “Celestia, can't this wait? I have so much to ask him! Surely-”

“Your 'interview' can wait, Twilight.” Celestia starkly replies. “In the meantime, I’m sure Anonymous here is famished from this whole ordeal. Aren’t you?”

You look over to Twilight, and back to Celestia.

“Y-Yeah.”

Celestia gives a slight nod of approval before turning back to Twilight. “See?” she replies with a matter-of-fact tone. “What kind of hostess would I be to let my guests starve?” Twilight sits back, clearly agitated.

“We’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” Celestia starts. “I need a moment in private with Anonymous.”

Twilight gives a stern look of disagreement. But before she could object, Celestia's horn glows a rich white, and the doors to the medical ward swing open.

“I appreciate your understanding.” she boldly states. Twilight seems to get the message, they clear out.

You're left alone with Celestia. Her delightful demeanor soon gives way to her apparent anxiety. The constant beat of her pacing along the marble floor leads a smooth rhythm. She points over to a bed. Atop, a small pile of clothes lay neatly folded. “I took the liberty of having your clothes cleaned.” she says, “You'd best get dressed. I wouldn't want you catching a cold now.” The garbs are fresh and give a crisp clean scent. All the meanwhile, Celestia continues to pace back and forth. Muttering something to herself underneath her breath.

“They're not here, are they?”

She pauses in her tracks, only to shoot you a sidewards glance.

“Who?” Celestia awkwardly asks, as if only to stall the conversation just a bit longer.

“My crew.” you reply. “Mac, and the rest of my squad. The rest of my people.”

Her expression of anxiety quickly molds into one of pity. She breaks eye contact, trudging her hoof along the floor. “There's...no easy way to say this, Anonymous.”

“You don't know where they are, do you?”

Her expression is grim. She replies with a quick, concise: “No.”

In-content with her response, you press harder with “Why am I here?”. She winces, to which you scornfully ask. “Where are my comrades?”

Celestia tenses up. Almost as she braced herself for questions she already knew the answers to.

“Well simply put it's-”

“Don't bullshit me, Celestia! You know something. You have to!”

“I'm sorry Anonymous. I don't know why-”

“No!” you shout, “Why haven't I seen anybody else here? What's with all the ponies?! Where are all the people!?”

“Simply put, there aren't any.” Celestia verdantly replies, “You're the only one here, Anonymous.”

You grit your teeth as a pit in your own stomach wells up.

“A-Are you fucking with me!? What the hell does that mean?”

“This world?” she replies, “This world is not your own. Tarvo City doesn't exist here. This is no Gracemeria here. This isn't the Earth you were born into.”

You clench your fist as a surge of emotions run rampantly through your body.

“Why am I here!?” you shout “Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?”

Celestia's eyes remain fixed on yours as she remains silent. Her expression remains emotionless as she watches over you. Her eyes are not one of anger or pity. But those of compassion and understanding.

“I don't have the answers you seek.”

Your mind races with questions and possibilities. Your thoughts run rampant, and soon you're surged with emotions of hate, anger and fear. “No!” you shout; knocking over one of the nearby tables, scattering medical supplies across the floor.

“You've gotta know something!” you front, “Why am I here!? It's not fair!” You pound your fist against Celestia's chest. “It's not fair! It's not- It's not fucking fair!” you whelp.

She doesn't flinch, nor does she push you aside. Instead, she only embraces you with her wings. The scale of the situation has finally started to set in. As the realization of soul crushing loneliness fills your very being, you can't help but shed a few tears. You legs buckle and you nearly tumble, but Celestia catches you still locked in embrace.

“I-I never asked for this! I didn't want to fight! I didn't want a fucking war!” you sob, “W-What did I do?”

Celestia keeps you in her embrace. Having seen into the deepest confines of your mind, she can to imagine your suffering. Unlike the others, she see's right through your 'hardened' exterior. She sees you for the broken, fragile person you are. One who's lost everything, and then some.

“You did what you had to.” she whispers. “You can be forvigen! It's not your fault.”

Your fault. Your mind races at the thought. What brought it to this?

You think back to the war.

And even though it only was a fraction of your life, you feel as it consumes your very essence. Almost as if fighting was all you knew. Was joining the rebellion really the best course of action? Would you have been better off committing suicide all those months ago?

You dwell on the 'what if's' of the past, knowing that they are exactly that.

“What if's.”

At the time, fighting seemed to be the only option. You justified it against the enemies cruel acts of war. Constantly, you re-assured yourself that you were fighting the good fight. That one day, you would look back at your actions and bask in glory and honor. Knowing that you made the right decision. Yet, with each day in the rebellion you grew to hate yourself and your decision more and more.

Every time you pulled the trigger, a little part inside of you died. It's another man behind those cross hairs. Another man, with a life and family just like yours. And at the end of the day, you knew that made you no better than them.

You grew to hate yourself along with the very concept of war.

War.

Such an inane and worthless ideology. One that should be banned from every corner of the earth.

This isn't the path you wanted to take. You didn't want your hands to be soaked in the blood of others.

You don't deserve to live.

You don't deserve to love.

You fall to your knees. But Celestia is there to catch you. She locks eyes with you. And without saying a word, she spreads her message across clearly.

You do deserve it.

You deserve it and more.

“Anonymous.” she whispers. “You and I? We're more alike than you think.” She pulls your back on your two feet, and lets you stand on your own. “I've done some things in the past I'm not proud of.” she claims. She quickly glances up to one of the stained glass windows. A masterpiece in itself, it depicts a Blue Alicorn standing ominously over the moon.

“Perharps, there may have been better options.” she starts. “Trust me. If I could turn back the clock, and take back the things I've done, I would.” Her voice trembles as a lone tear falls from her face. One she's quick to clear off.

“Sometimes, I still look back at those fateful days and wonder...” She dead locks her vision with yours. Staring deep into those rose eyes, you see nothing less than true understanding.

“What if?”

She shudders for a moment before regaining her composure.

“We have to move forward with the hand fate deals us.” she whispers, “I've seen what you're capable of, Anonymous.”

She grabs your hands with one of her hoofs. The golden metal anklet feels cool to the touch.

“I've given-... You've been given a wonderful gift, Anonymous. Don't waste it.” she whispers, “Stay with us. There's so much we can learn from each other, you and I.”

You stay embraced by the Princess' wing. Something about her warm embrace, combined with the soft caress of her voice makes you feel at ease. And if only for a moment, it makes you feel safe. It feels...nice.

You wrap your hands around her and finish the embrace, finding comfort with her. A feeling you haven't found in a long, long time. The warm touch of another person. It brings a sense of belonging in your heart. A true sense that runs deep within your soul.

Your throat wells up. And your mind races with emotions. There's so much you want to say. So much that needs to be let out. You search for the appropriate words for the moment, but find yourself acting autonomously. Your mouth opens, and the words “Thank you.” whisper out.

Celestia smiles.

“Come, Anonymous.” she whispers. “Let's meet up with Twilight and the rest of them. I'm sure they're dying to get to know you.”

“I'm sure he had his reasons.” Rarity announces. She sits idly at the dining room table. Boredom has gotten the best of her, so she uses a napkin to mindlessly polish her silverware to a shine.

“Still, it seems a little brash, though. Doesn't it?” Fluttershy asks.

“Brash is putting' it lightly.” Applejack says, rolling her eyes as she refers to the 'hostage' situation in the library.

“Even a cornered fox will bite.” Twilight announces. “How else would you have expected him to react?”

“I dunno. I still don't like it.” Applejack announces. “I don't like him. And I don't like this one bit.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash adds, “He seems...odd. Something about him seems...off.”

“Aww. Come on!” Pinkie Pie shouts. “You guys are just jumping to conclusions! What if he turns out a be a really nice 'human'?”

“Yet, you don't find it a little bit odd?” Applejack replies. “The elements go all out of whack for a day, and then this fella pops up?”

“It does seem a bit odd.” Twilight replies.

“Because it is.” Applejack says.

Twilight sits patiently in her seat, shuffling through the post cards Anonymous has given her earlier. “I know it sound fishy, but I want to know all the facts before I draw my conclusions.”

The postcards catch Rarity's eye, she reaches out her hoof. “May I?” Rarity shuffles through them in a relatively quick and timely manner. Her eyes are drawn to the architectural marvel of each one of the post cards. They contain vast cities that defy her very concepts of design. Sharp building constructed of steel and glass pierce the heavens in awe an awe inspiring manner. The roads are paved with a rich black asphalt that neatly line the city streets. The photographs capture a still moment in time, with people rushing back and forth on their daily commutes.

“I don't recognize any of these places.” Rarity announces, placing the cards back on the table.

“Neither do I.” Twilight announces. “Which leads me to believe that he's not from around here.”

“Then where do you reckon' he's from?” Applejack questions.

Twilight lets out a simple sigh of defeat before shrugging her shoulders.

“Whatever the case may be, I hope the poor soul turns out all right.” Rarity announces.

“Yeah.” Fluttershy adds. “He looked pretty miserable. Are all humans like that?”

“Doubt it.” Twilight says. “The ones on these postcards seem pretty happy to me.”

“Really? Lemme see!” Applejack says, grabbing the cards. “Hmph. How can you tell?”

Twilight points to a card in particular. It has a young woman in a swimsuit posing in front of a bright sunny beach. She's smiling while holding up a beer in one hand and flashing the peace sign in the other. “This one looks cheery!” Twilight says.

“Well how can you be so sure?” Applejack replies.

Twilight was about to bring up her own theory, when the dining hall's doors suddenly swung open. Anonymous and Celestia stood idly in the doorway.

“After you.” Celestia mentions.

You nod before starting inside. Celestia trots cautiously by your side. You've developed something of a limp, and she isn't taking any more risks furthering your injuries. She leads you to the table to where the rest of the ponies are seated. She finds out a seat nestled right in between Twilight and Rarity. They both nervously shuffle in their seat at your presence. It's a small table, with even smaller chairs. But you somehow manage to find a comfortable position.

With her magic, Celestia clicks her knife against the glass. And no sooner, an entourage of waiters and waitresses come scurrying out of the kitchen. Each one of them carrying some sort of tray of steaming food. They reach your table, and start handing out the meals. While some of them are hesitant to serve you at first, they all maintain their form of professionalism.

A steaming plate of placed in front of you. Followed by a young waiter who places a tall glass by your side.

“Carrot or Tomato?” he tonelessly asks.

You ponder it for a moment before ordering for a mug of coffee. It's black. Just how you like it. It's bitter flavor brings back a sense of belonging to you. Nostalgia, even.

“So. Anonymous.” Twilight starts. “...Your name is 'Anonymous', right?”

You give a slight nod.

“That's right.”

“Well. Good. That's good.” Twilight awkwardly starts, “W-Well. We haven't had a chance to really introduce ourselves, have we?”

“No. We haven't.” you quickly reply.

Twilight flinches at the sudden reply and shifts her weight around her seat.

“Err...Well. Let's start with introductions, shall we?” She places a hoof on herself. “My name is Twilight Sparkl-”

“No. No.” you interrupt. Twilight stops and stares at you haphazardly.

“Celestia has already told me about me you all.”

You point around the table, pointing out each of the ponies.

“Twilight, Apple Jack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash...”

You follow around the table clockwise, introducing each one of the mares to yourself, finally arriving at the last mare to your side.

“And finally, Rarity.” Her ear's twitch at the mention of her name. “It's a pleasure.”

The ponies sit back. Their expressions are priceless. And they react just as much as you'd expect them to. It's strange. You've never meet these people before. But you still manage to get a solid grasp on their personalities. And as time goes on, you seem to get a better grasp on your situation in the grand scheme of things. You can't really explain it, but you imagine this must have been Celestia's doing. After your near-death experience with Equestrian 'Magic' the idea isn't all too far-fetched.

Your attention shifts back to the ponies. As expected, Pinkie Pie is the first to break the ice.

“Mister Anonymous! Mister Anonymous! I bet everypony is dying to know! Just where are you from!?”

“Yes. Does it have anything to do with these?” Twilight cuts in, reffering to the tall stack of post cards on the table.

You take a sip of coffee before replying.

“I'm from Tarvo City.” you proudly reply.

“Tarvo City?” Rarity hesitantly asks.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn't sound like any city I've ever heard of.” Applejack says. “You sure you didn't hit your head or anything?”

Twilight shuffles through the post cards before handing you one.

“Anonymous, is this a picture from Tarvo City?” she asks.

“Close.” you reply. “But no.” You hand her back the card.

“That's Gracemeria. The capital.”

“The capital of what?” Twilight asks.

“Emmeria.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I didn't expect you to.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I-I'm not from here.” you sigh, “In fact. I don't actually know where 'here' is. I do know I'm not supposed to be here. Not at all. It's just not...natural.”

“Natural?” Twilight asks. “I don't understand. Can you explain?” Rarity pokes you in the rib.

“Anonymous, just exactly where are you from?”

You resort back to your thoughts, desperately trying to find answers to questions you don't know.

“This doesn't exist where I'm from.” you start. “There are no talking ponies. Magic is a myth. You don't exist, where I come from.” Twilight is quick with her pen, diligently recoding every word you speak.

“My world is inhabited by humans. Other people. Never in my life have I heard of Equestria. And the concept of unicorns and pegasi was only found in old legends and fairy tales. Where I come from, you're nothing more than a myth.”

Curiosity gleaing in her eyes, Twilight pushes onward.

“Do you remember how you got here?”

Celestia's voice echoes in your mind. She's made it clear. Revealing your life as a martyr isn't the best course of action. She argues it's an unnecessary chapter of your life that's best left be.

“I lived in a big city. Much bigger than this one. I lived with a room mate, he was alright guy.” you start.

You rub your temples as you 'jog' your memory

“It was just like any other night. I had gotten into bed and fallen asleep.”

“Yes?” Twilight eagerly asks.

“When I woke up, I was lost in a forest. I don't know what happened.”

Twilight furrows her brow. Clearly not content with your response.

“That's all you remember?” she asks.

You glance up to her. She's her eyes are deadocked with yours. You muster up all the courage to put on a deadpan stare.

“That's it.”

You quickly shuffle your vision over to Celestia, who gives a slight nod. Looks like she approves of your cover story. Twilight shuffles in her seat.

“Well. What are all those things you're carrying?”

Rainbow Dash cuts in with “Yeah! I've never seen anything like it before!”

“Those are my possessions. When I woke up in the forest, they were scattered around me. I didn't necessarily pick out what I took with me. It sort of just happened.” Twilight's brow furrows even deeper.

“Do you intend on going back home? To this, 'Tarvo City' of yours?” Rarity asks. Celestia cuts in.

“Anonymous and I have already discussed the details of his situation. We've decided it's for the best if he were to stay here in Equestria for the time being.”

Each one of the ponies' eyes light up in response. Twilight nearly falls out of her seat. “R-Really?” she excitedly asks.

Applejack sits up in her chair. “Now. Are you sure this is a good idea, Princess?” she asks, “How can we be sure he can be trusted!?”

She points at you with an intense glare. “We've barely known this thing for less than a day and you want to let him into our home?”

“Applejack!” Rarity shouts. “How incredibly rude!”

“No. It's alright.” Celestia says. “I understand her concern. For it is not without warrant.”

She takes a sip of her drink before continuing.

“I can see why you may be wary on trusting Anonymous. After all, he's something alien.”

“Your damn right.” Applejack replies.

“But you haven't seen him as I have.” Celestia says, “I know this man. And I can see him for the person he is. Believe me when I can say he is trustworthy.”

Applejack's slight pout soon melts away.

“In fact, it wouldn't be as farfetched to say if need be, I'd trust him with my life.”

You glance up to the princess. Lost for words, you speak out the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Thank you.”

Celestia continues with her speech. Her eyes watering with tears.

“His heart and mine were as one, however briefly.”

The room falls silent as Celestia's voice weeps. She turns to you.

“Such suffering you had endured. I-I'm sorry, Anonymous.”

The meal was a blur. It wasn't long before everyone had finished up. You conversed with the ponies. You drank. But most of all, you listened. With Celestia behind your back, they quickly opened up to you. Evidently, a friend of Celestia is a friend of theirs.

You learn about their verdant lives in a small town called Ponyville. They tell you of their various adventures. It was then that you learned more about them and their society. How it couldn't be any more different than your own. Here, there was no fighting. There was no nuance of hate, fueled by something as inane was one's flag. The concept of war was little more than a stray figment of one's imagination. It was bliss.

And you absorb every word of it.

The alarm on your wristwatch goes off, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Should you still be in Tarvo City, this would mark the beginning of your nine hour patrol shift. You silence the alarm.

“Anonymous?” Twilight asks.

“Yes?”

“W-What is that thing?”

“Sorry. It's just an alarm.”

“No.” she shakes her head. “I mean, just what is that thing?”

She points to the watch on your wrist.

“Oh, come on.” you argue “You mean to tell me you've never seen one of these before?”

You take it off and hand it to her.

“I've seen watches before, but none like this. I mean, it's so obscure! Where are the hands? How do you wind it?”

You rub your temples in confusion.

“You've never seen a digital watch before?”

“Digital?” Rarity asks. “What is that?”

You glance around the table to find confused stares all around.

“You guys don't have digital watches here?”

Twilight simply shakes her head. You shuffle around in your seat. Come to think of it, you haven't seen any glimpse of modern technology since your arrival. There were no cars, no street signs, no light bulbs, no power outlets. Nothing. It seems as if they haven't harnessed the power of electricity yet. You begin to ponder their engineering capabilities. Here you sit with a rifle high presicion strapped across your back, and a satchel full of plastic explosives and a bag full of supplies. Truly, a shining example of what humanity's technology has to offer.

You glance around. And almost as if to confirm your suspicions, you catch a glimpse of a stationed at the door. He stands by idly, polishing a tall spear. Probably his weapon of choice.

“Anonymous? What other functions does this have?” Twilight asks.

“It's just a watch, Twilight. It's nothing special.”

“But the watches we have don't look anything like this!”

She reaches into her saddle bag and produces a small pocketwatch. You can hear the slight ticking of it's internal movements.

“Well. My watch can do more than this one, that's for sure.”

“Like?”

“Well for one thing, my watch's got time zones, a calendar and an alarm.”

Twilight's eyes widen. Pinkie Pie snatches the watch from Twilight's grasp. She shakes it in the air.

“What else can it do!? What else can it do!?” she shouts.

“Ehh. It's got a stopwatch. It's waterproof. And, it can light up.”

“Light up?” Rarity asks.

“Yeah. So you can see it in the dark.”

She snatches the watch from Pinkie Pie.

“Care to demonstrate?”

“Just press the little silver button on the side that says 'Light'.” you explain.

At first, she tries with her hooves. But fails. Afterward, she tries with her magic. It beeps and the LED inside jolts to life, illuminating the LCD display. Her eyes brim with awe.

“T-this is amazing.” she whispers.

“Yeah.” you casually reply. “My favorite feature is that fact that it's solar powered! It never runs out of juice.”

Celestia puts down her drink and raises a brow.

“Solar powered?” She asks.

The next few hours are spent answering questions as they pop up. You tried your best at dodging any topics that had to do with the war. If asked about such topics, you responded with a simple “I don't remember.” You told the ponies about your civilian life before the war. You showed them photos of your family and friends from your wallet. Using the post cards and map, you told them about the major cities in your country.

You told them about Tarvo City, your hometown. Using some of Twilight's paper, you sketched out some of the inventions humanity had developed. However, everyone became much more interested in the way you held a quill in your hand than the actual topic at hand. Apparently, you're one of the few species in this world to have opposable appendages.

That ultimately led to a quick course in the bone structure of human beings. Which then led to a crash course in human anatomy and modern medicine. Twilight nearly fainted when you explain the concept of an artificial limb to her.

You shared a few laughs as you moved onto your personal life. It turns out the ponies have a similar ideology of yours. Ultimately it revolves around one's well being and the pursuit of happiness. The conversation was lively and cheerful.

By the time you had finished speaking, it was nearly dinner time. Twilight had written a hefty stack of notes that towered above everyone. You occasionally took the chance to ask questions as well.

As you discussed unicorn magic, you soon realize it was a crutch for this civilization. They are completely dependent on it. As the ponies couldn’t bear to imagine a world without their all-powerful 'magic'. The lack of a logical explanation irked you. But at the same time, you realize you were currently having dinner with a four foot tall pastel colored equine. Logic isn't one to prevail in these parts.

Dinner was soon served. The royal chefs prepared everything from salad, to pasta, to cakes. You did notice a distinct lack of meats in these meals. But given the herbivorous nature, it made sense. Regardless, the food was delicious.

A lone bottle on the table catches your attention. And much to your surprise it's a bottle of red wine. Your eyes glimmer in anticipation.

“Help yourself!” Celestia cheerfully exclaims, “There's plenty more where that came from!”

Without hesitation, you pour yourself a glass.

It's weak. The alcohol was barely present compared to your hometown drinks.

Dinner was a flash. And soon enough, the night rears in. The party is led back upstairs by Celestia herself. She leads you to a hall full of bed chambers. You'd be sharing a room with Twilight and Rarity.

Rarity swings open the door and briskly walks inside.

“Celestia never ceases to amaze me with these suites.” Rarity exclaims.

“Definitely.” Twilight exclaims. “Almost makes me wish I still studied here in Canterlot.”

Rarity walks trots to the nearest bed and places her suitcase at it's foot.

“And this one's mine!” she meeks.

You nod and move over to the bed adjacent to hers.

“Dibs.”

Twilight is quick to get settled, and soon finds her way to a nearby desk, burying herself in a stack of notes. You pay her no mind. Instead, you unsling your backpack and place it upon your bed.

It's rough canvas build is a stark opposite to the smooth silk bed sheets. You open it up and begin to unpack your bag, placing what little belongings you had on the bed. Your rifle. Your handguns. Ammunition. A cleaning kit. Some food and drinks.And a small Gameboy that somehow has managed to survive this far. Finally, you find a small change of clothes at the bottom of the bag.

You unfold it to find it's an small T-Shirt and pair of jeans that have seen better days.

“Anonymous?” Rairty asks.

“Yes?”

“Is that all?” she meekly asks.

“Is what all?”

“You said that when you woke up in the forest, you found a few of your possesions scattered about... Is that everything?”

“Yeah.” you reply. “Just about.”

Her eyes sink.

“Oh my.” she whispers.

“What?”

“Y-You have nothing. Not even a proper change of clothes!”

“Oh.” you sigh, “Well, this was all I really needed. You get used to it, I suppose.”

“Oh no, dear. This simply won't do!” she replies. “I simply can't watch you live on like that! You poor thing!”

She tugs on your shoulder.

“Have you arranged for a place to stay?”

“Ah. Now that you mention it, I haven't.” you chuckle, “I'm sure I'll figure something out. I always do.”

“Heavens no!” she shrieks melodramatically. “I cannot idly stand by and watch you live in the streets!”

She paces back and forth in front of you.

“No! I've got it! You're to stay with me! I've got plenty of room in the carousel boutique! As long as you need!”

“Oh.” you reply, slightly taken back by the sudden outburst, “Well. I don't know. I wouldn't want to be a burden.”

“Non-sense.”

“I don't know if I'll feel comfortable taking from you. I mean, we've just met after all and I really don't want to impo-”

“I won't take no for an answer, Anonymous.” she interrupts. “My mind is set.”

Twilight belts out from across the room. “That's the Element of Generosity, for you. You might as well accept her offer. Once she's made up her mind, there's nothing stopping her.”

“Alright.” you sigh, “Thank you, Rarity. I appreciate it.”

She gives a toothy grin.

“You haven't any clothes either?”

“No, it's all home.”

“I'll see to it then.”

Your watch alarm goes off again.

“It's close to mid-night.”

“Hmm. That it is.” Rarity replies as she snuggles in her bed.

Instead of doing the same, you reach for the cleaning kit and the rifle, beginning the tedious task of performing maintenance. Most of the parts are affixed in some sort of mickey mouse job, so they required constant maintenance. You loaded the magazine you had with some rounds and placed it into the rifle. Content with your work, you placed it under your bed. Soon afterward, you moved onto the revolved. A quick cleaning left it with a sparkling shine. You place it on your nightstand, safety off. A deep sigh escapes your lips. After months of fighting in the resistance, the entire maintenance routine has been etched into your muscle memory.

Some habits just die hard.

You glance at your watch. It's half past midnight. Time to call it a night. You change out of your clothes, and strip into your boxers. Rarity give a slight gasp as you remove your shirt.

“H-How are the bandages holding up?” she timidly asks.

“They're O.K. Hurt's a bit, but it's nothing major.”

You run your fingers along the bandages.

The bloodstained bandages cover still fresh wounds.

“What- What happened to you?” Rairty blurts out. The battlefield left a heavy toll on your body and mind, evident by your scars.Calmly, you try to play it off.

“This? It's nothing.” you scoff. “No big deal.”

Twilight picks herself up from her notes to trot over to you.

“No big deal?” she whimpers. Using her magic she picks at one of the bandages, revealing the burned flesh.

“These look awful.”

“Are you sure it's not too much pain?” Rarity asks, “You know, it's not too late to call in Redheart.”

“No it's fine.” you exclaim.

Twilight puts a hoof to her chin. She's not buying it. Using her magic, she beings you over to her level. Eye level.

“Is there something you're not telling me, Anonymous?” she bravely asks. “I know you and Celestia discussed something behind those closed doors.”

Your palms begin to sweat.

What if she could pierce into your mind as well

“Are you sure there's nothing you need to tell us?” Twilight asks again.

You consider your options. Was all this really worth hiding? Why go through all the trouble of hiding all this? A glint of light catches you eye. You glance over to see the revolver reflecting the candle light of it's polished shine.

You're a murderer.

That's why.

You glance back to Twilight and muster up all your charisma into your next line.

“I've told you everything, Twilight. I have nothing to hide.”

You stare coldly into her eyes as she does into yours. You feel your feet touch the ground again as she release you from her magic.

“Alright, Anonymous.” she sternly replies.

Her response tells it all. She didn't buy into your bluff. Rarity shuffles to your side and pokes you once more.

“Are you sure you don't want me to fetch a doctor? It looks quite painful.”

“N-No. I'm fine. Honest!”

“Well alright.” she replies. “I'm headed to bed. Good night, Anonymous.”

You gave her a smile that dissolved any doubt she had.

“Rarity?” you call out.

Her ears perk up as she turns.

“Yes?”

“Call me Anon. All my friends did.”

She smiles.

“Alright, Anon.”

Using her magic, she dims the lights. Only Twilight's desk side lamp remains lit. Save for the sound of Twilight scribbling down in her notes, the room is silent. An occasional breeze finds it's way in through the drafty castle. You had an excellent view out of the window from your bed. The moon was full and the stars glittered proudly.

You find yourself mesmerized by the soft embrace of a warm bed. It's been too long since you've had one to call your own.

So much has happened in the past few days, it's hard to keep up. Since the start of the war, you've felt yourself lost in limbo. Your life since been put on hiatus, you try to recall the last time you've had a 'normal' day such as this one. The train of thought is short lived. Your eye lids become heavy.

And soon, the night take you.

Author's Note

This was originally written as a greentext piece. Excuse any awkward formatting/structure.

Chapter Eight

The sunlight doesn't shine in the southernmost wing of the Canterlot Castle. It's corridors have no windows. Dank and depressing stretches of corridors, only scarcely illuminated by torches, give off an almost dungeon like appeal to it. Not surprisingly, it proves to be a barren and empty wing of the castle. Save for the Royal Sisters, the hall is traversed by only a handful of castle guards.

With only the sounds of their staccato breaths, a cold shiver runs down the spines of those who find their way here.

A lone guard stands watch by one of the doorways at the end of the hall. His armor and sword lie scattered across his feet. Slouched against the wall, he drifts in and out of sleep. He stands ‘vigilant’ over the cob-webbed door. A door that seems like it may fall off it’s very hinges from the years of neglect and misuse Curiosity all who were stationed at the southernmost wings of the Canterlot Castle. Dozens of doors and passageways strew about the corridors. Many of which remain a mystery to even the most seasoned guards.

It was a dull night And just like any other guard, the initial sense of curiosity has long sinced passed. He couldn't care less over this god-forsaken post. Lulling in and out of sleep, he does his best to pass the time. He stares blankly and the empty hallway. His mind wandering somewhere else. Anywhere but here. His face flusters as he imagines the young mare he’d met at a ceremony not too long ago.

Such a beautiful mare.

What was her name again?

He shifts his weight around his hooves as he rattles the thought in his mind. She had an odd name. But one that oddly became the center of his mind.

Dusk?

Dawn?

Or maybe. Twilight?

However, he quickly snaps to attention as his ears perk up.

He hears something.

Footsteps.

And they're getting closer.

Quickly, the young stallion dons his armor and sword. An act he’s come to master over the countless hours. He strikes a tall pose and stands in formation.

As always, Celestia travels down the hallways with grace and refinement. Her very presence bringing a bright aura to the dank and seemingly empty halls. One that brings a smile to the young guard's face.

“Good morning, your highness.” he chirps. Offering a slight bow.

“Good morning, Flash.” she smiles. A small moment of silence passes between the two. Celestia’s mind seems to be elsewhere. Our guard is the first to break the silence.

“This post is somewhat of a lonely one, your highness. I don't see many ponies come down here during my shift. So I didn't expect to see anypony today.” Flash chuckles, “Much less someone such as yourself. If I had known, I would have at least polished my armor this morning!”

Flash offers somewhat of an awkward smile. Celestia offers but a slight smile, as she gives a slight cringe as the boy's words pierces daggers into her heart. She envies the lad. She envies his youth and his happy-go-lucky nature. Flash opens the door and bows as Celestia wanders inside.

“Princess!?” the guard blurts out.

Celestia stops in her tracks, only to glance back at the young guard. He twiddles with his hooves against the floor.

“Yes?”

“Ah. It's just...” the guard nervously pecks at the floor. Hesitantly, he pauses for a moment before continuing. “I've been stationed at this post longer than I can remember.”

“And?” Celestia curiously asks.

“.. It's just, no-one's ever told me what I'm guarding, or why I'm guarding it.”

Celestia cracks off a warm smile and glances back at the young guard. He shuffles stances, regretful of even asking in the first place..

“You're guarding what little remains of the unsung war.” The young guard gives off a confused look.

And before he has a chance to say much else, Celestia struts inside and shuts the door behind her.

Celestia's horn glows with a soft aura as she casts a spell. Instantly, the pitch black room is lit by various candles and torches. She glances around for a bit, and steps inside. Much like the rest of the castle, this room is adorned with various pieces and artifacts from times long ago. Dozens of sets of armor are set on display throughout the room, giving an almost museum-like aura in the room.

However, unlike a museum, these pieces have been neglected, dented and scuffed. Upon closer inspection, one would find that these pieces of armor are primitive, and nothing like the pristine golden clad armor of today's guards.

These are simple outfits. A few pieces of hammer shaped copper sheets are bound together by thin pieces worn leather. They offered the wearer little protection, if any at all.

Yet, one can't help but feel a distinct aura of pride from age coming from these suits. Armor so ridiculously old, it's a miracle it's still in standing. Celestia grimaces as she passes them by, careful as not to disturb them.

But as she passes along the room, she pauses. Her eyes set on a single set of armor. Celestia runs her hoof along one of the green copper plates. A thick coat of dust has begun to accumulate along with other imperfections.

“Has is really been that long?” Celestia whispers almost inaudibly.

It then begins to dawn on her the sheer length of time that has passed since she’s payed tribute to this makeshift museum. Suddenly she feels an absolute horrid sense of shame well up in her gut; a deep shame that can only be conjured via centuries of neglect.

She looks around again. Scattered swords and spears are set behind dusty glass tables. Each one of them rusted and broken in some sort of way. As Celestia passes each one of them by, she takes a moment to pause and recollect on her thoughts.

Her expression is one of disturbance. Her gaze goes beyond the armor suits.

Beyond this room.

She recognizes these suits. Tears well up as she digs deep in her mind for distant memories. Ones that had been all but locked away. She knew the people who donned these suits. She knew them all too well.

She remembers each one of their young, shining faces as they trained through the academy. She remembers their sense of eagerness as they graduated into full fledged royal guards. The bright smile on each of their faces as she appointed them as her personal guards. She remembers their personalities.

Their names.

Their faces.

Their voices, still all clear as day.

She remembers it all. Celestia rubs a temple as a flood of memories are rushed back towards her. She remembers the dark magic that corrupted the once sweet and verdant Luna into a monster. Night Mare Moon.

Celestia winces as she searches her memories for those unfortunate days. She remembers pleading her sister for understanding. Pleading for forgiveness. Pleading for a second chance. But Nightmare would have none of it.

At the time, she was young. In-experienced.

And above all...

Soft

Cursed with a gentle soul she couldn't dare harm a fly. Ultimately, she was unable bring herself to wield a sword against her own blood. A decision that would soon prove to be costly. As the days raged on, hope drew thin. Times were desperate. And she ultimately feared for the worst. She had tried reasoning with Nightmare. She pressed for any kind of diplomatic solution. But was hard pressed to find any.

Celestia wanders over to a set of doors at the far end of the room. She presses her horn against the door's lock and casts a spell. The door's tumblers rattle and creak. A thick coating of dust shake off the door. And the hinges give off an uncomfortable creak as it's opened for the first time in centuries.

Celestia scurries down the corridor and into another chamber of the room. There, she finds herself face to face with more rows of armor suits. But not just any armor.

These are entirely different.

Celestia gasps for a second. She feels the very air sucked out of her gut as she’s hit by an unmistakable aura that permeates the very room. One of honor and courage. As Celestia walks up to one of the suits, she can't help but feel all that and more radiate from the armor.

These suits of armor stand taller, and prouder than the rest.

For it was not an Equestrian made piece.

It was not fitted for a stallion.

It was Human armor. Crafted by a man, and made for a man.

It was armor far more advance than any found in the other room. Where Stallion armor was built of simple copper plates, these pieces were hand crafted by only the most talented blacksmiths. Each one composed of dozens of intricate pieces. All forged from milled steel.

Mankind.

They were but a small faction settled off on the outskirts of Equestria. They were amongst the smallest, and weakest species to roam the earth. But collectively they were a tremendous force to be reckoned with. Whilst the rest of the world relied on brute strength and magic for survival, mankind had to rely solely on it's wits. Unlike the rest of the world's species, mankind had no outstanding physical traits of their own.

They could not fly.

They could not run very far.

They were not very strong.

And above all, they were not able to cast magic.

But yet, one could argue they were the most gifted. And that they were the best off. Armed with an unsurpassed intelligence, they quickly became master of their surroundings. They showed an incredible mastery of all trades, one that surpassed all other races. And above all, they always displayed an impeccable sense of pride in their work.

Lest one wanted their lands in ruin, one did not wage war against the small faction. The comfortably positioned themselves at the top of the region's hierarchy. Envy and jealousy ran rampant throughout the rest of the world.

They were respected out of fear. They were hated by many. And were labeled outcasts by nearly all. They were a solitary species. Relying on no-one but themselves to solve their own problems, man found companionship with themselves.

But somehow, they remained a docile bunch. One way or another, they had become allies with Equestria. The two traded goods and welcomed each other with open arms. For as long as Celestia could remember the humans had remained one of Equestria's few allies. Trade between the two flourished. Lasting friendships were forged. And an everlasting trust was formed between the two. With open arms, they shared with each other a new world of commerce and culture.

But it all proved to be short lived. For quickly after Nightmare Moon took power, this was all shattered. Ponyfolk scattered like cornered rats. Confusion and fear spread like the plague. She was left with no means of a solution. And she was hopeless.

But during what was Celestia's darkest hour, the small faction of mankind crested upon the horizon. Their warriors brazen and ready for battle, they bore arms in the name of their ally.

When everyone else seemed at a loss.

They guided the way.

When everyone else cowered.

They stood firm.

Emotionally unable to wield the Elements of Harmony herself, Celestia sent her royal guard into battle. She remembers the look of strength and determination as they marched into battle. Proudly, they marched against a seemingly unstoppable foe. Fighting a way against an unstoppable enemy, all in the name of their home. She remembers their final parade, knowing very well that they marched towards certain death.

But her little ponies were not alone.

They were backed by the strength and power of mankind.

She remembers seeing her stout stallions march side by side with the towering humans.

She remembers their faces of pride as they marched out of Canterlot, towards the field of battle.

But above all, she distinctly remembers seeing her little ponies stride a little bit taller that day.

Celestia pulls herself away to the armor. She clenches her eyes shut. But even in the darkness, she can still see the human's faces. She can still hear their voices. She can still hear their cries.

They were no match for Nightmare Moon.

No one was.

And just like that, they were slaughtered. In an instant Nightmare had reduced the world's mightiest warriors to dust. For the next morning, the bloodied armored suits of her bravest warriors were sent back to Celestia's doorstep. A taunt.

But it didn't end there. Nightmare Moon was no fool. She knew Celestia had conscripted the aid of an ally. NIghtmare didn't take kindly to having been attacked a neighboring faction, and as a result she quickly swept in for a counter attack.

Nightmare's only goal in all this was for a personal vendetta against Celestia. And she knew the best way to break Celestia. Nightmare's counter attack was well coordinated and swift. For it was not aimed at Canterlot. Not at Celestia. Not even at Ponyville. No.

Instead, she took aim at the outskirts of Equestria.

To the small human settlements scattered about just outside the borders.

Nightmare's attack was merciless. Engulfing each settlement in an aura of impenetrable dark magic, she extinguished the lives of thousands in an instant. Sparing none in her ruthless genocide, she quickly wiped mankind off the face of the earth. She lauded them as fools for having taken a stand against her. And she treated them as if they were as common insects, lining up for extermination.

It was a crippling blow for Celestia. One that finally brought her over edge. After witnessing a sacrifice so great, she gathered what little courage she had to face her sister.

A soft weep fills the room. Celestia's tears drop effortlessly onto the stone floor below. She falls to her knees. Weeping at the foot of a suit of armor, she breaks into hysterics.

She looks up to the suit of armor. Still standing proudly to this day, it's a constant reminder to her careless mistake. One that caused an entire race to vanish.

She paces the floor. Her mind racing with a topic that's been weighing on her mind for a thousand years. It's her fault.

Had she only used the Elements of Harmony earlier.

Had she only drawn a bit of courage the humans had shown.

Perhaps…

Perhaps they'd still be around today.

She shuts her eyes….But it's no use.

She can still see their faces.

She covers her ears….But it's no use.

She can still hear their voices.

Dozens of them.

And among them all, one in particular stands out. His voice. Anonymous'.

Her mind races at the thought of the sole human. She can only imagine the confusion within him. The lost soul. Damned to live the rest of his second life in shame. With the misery of his past trials trailing behind him.

How can he still stand?

How can he still smile?

Her mind races back to the throne room. To those few moments where they became one. Disgust seeps through her very soul. She clenches her heart in agony, for she was stricken by a deep pain. An emotional pain that pierces the very essence of her soul. The sheer reminder of what that man endured was enough to bring her to her knees.

A pit of nausea seeps in her stomach as she recalls the experience. Violence, and gore ran rampant during those city streets. Cities burned down by the fires of hatred and liberation. Truly, she’s witnessed the worst of humanity.

But...

In that very instance, she also became familiar with the very best. For Anonymous had not acted alone. Countless others who took up arms with him still echo in her mind. She can only imagine the courage it must take to risk everything to join the resistance movement. And she only wishes she could have summoned a fraction of that courage Driven by Anonymous’ actions, a deep sense of admiration wells up inside Celestia.

Armed with little more than sticks and stones, he faced a Goliath. With the entire world watching, he marched onwards, towards his death. Just like those who faced Nightmare Moon. Celestia ponders it for a moment. It seems humans across all walks share the same sense of courage.

Celestia looks up at the armor suit one last time. She glances up to the opened helmet. Only to have Anonymous' face staring back down at her. She can still see remember his warm smile on that fateful day.

“P-Please.” she whimpers. “P-Please. I-I'm begging you.” She slams her hoof against the floor. >The empty suits of armor rattle against themselves.

“Accept my apology! P-Please!” she cries out. “F-Forgive me!” She falls to the floor, her knees scraping the crickety wood floor. Celestia holds a hoof to her temples. Her ears start to ring as indistinguishable voices begin to flood the room. Their faces start to appear one by one.

Celestia shuts her eyes tight, desperately trying to escape their gaze. But it’s no use. Even in the private confines of her eye lids, she finds herself face to face with her fallen comrades. And it’s not before long that those voices start to clear out. The blabber and gibberish transforms into sentences and phrases. Much to her dismay, she focuses her hearing, picking out their voices one by one.

“How you doing, Celestia?”

“Ah, Celestia! It’s been a while!”

“My princess! My dear princess! How I missed you so!”

“Your majesty! It’s been far too long!”

“Celestia! Just the person I’ve wanted to see!”

“Princess! What’s Luna been up to!?”

And before she knows it, Celestia is struggling on the floor. Desperately trying to grasp at any fathom of reality before. The heart in her chest pounds at an alarming rate. She whimpers to the men before her. She crawls to the feet of armor, gazing up to the toothy grin of Anonymous once more.

“I only brought you here so you can say it....” Celestia starts. Her voice broken by whimpers and sobs.

“Please! I-I just need you to say it once!” Celestia cries out “P-Please! J-Just once! P-Please!”

She smashes the suit of armor with her hoof. It collapses to the floor and dissembles itself. And with the illusion of Anonymous gone, she whimpers to the floor.

“Please...” she whispers. “Just once...”

Unable to drown the voices of her fallen allies, she breaks into hysterics.

The sun is holding high above the city streets. It's healthy light brings a warm glow to your skin. People scurry about the city streets, many going out and about trying to go about their lives as “normally” as possible.

You lean idly against the car door. Slightly adjusting the driver's seat to your liking, and only sulking even deeper into the seat. The soft aroma of coffee wafts into your nose as you sip from your styrofoam cup. The soft taste of fresh coffee flows into your mouth.

You pause for a moment, recognizing the taste of a foreign brew. It's nothing like the local stuff you've come accustomed to your whole life. It’s almost enough to make you gag.

You sit parked in front of an old bakery as you have for hours. A gentle breeze carries the rich scent of fresh baked good into the car. It's enough to bring your mouth to a water.

You've been sitting for hours.

Watching.

Waiting.

A loud horn rips through the street. Glancing down the rear view mirror, you can make out the silhouette of a half-track caravan. The low rumble of military vehicles are still ever present. As you idly sit by, various Estovakian trucks pass the street in front of you. The officers riding on the trucks seem to be having a good time with each other. Cracking jokes and smoking cigarettes, they take the moment for what it is. One of them makes eye contact with you. He looks young. Almost too young. It makes you wonder at what age the Estovakian’s begin drafting.

You ponder the subject for a moment, and decide it a best topic for another time. None the less, you maintain an ever vigilant watch over the street. You sit inside a bright yellow taxi cab, it's windows tinted a deep limo black. Dressed in an outfit typical of modern day cabbies. Baggy jeans, ruffled shirts and jackets, and a small burgundy cap. A crude fake cabbie's I.D sits pinned across your chest, along with the fake name: Christopher Bagston It’s a deep red color, with the Estovakian Flag visible in the background.

You can’t but help feel a distinct sense of disgust while wearing the badge.

Donning the flag of the enemy? Unthinkable.

Yet. As you glance around, you see dozens of others wearing the same badges as you. The militarized zone is a busy place. It's occupants hustled about the city streets in a hurry, scurrying from one building to the next. Life continued as normal inside the walls of the zone. This place was an oasis amongst the desert. In here, you were relatively safe. There were no raids. No bombing runs. No shootouts.

Nothing.

Armed soldiers march down the same sidewalks with the former Emmerian civilians. Such citizens donned a small red I.D across the chests, just like yours. I.D's that were only given out to citizens who pledged allegiance to the newly raised Estovakian flag. People who live in this zone chose to live in a lap of 'luxury'. Living in what simply was a facade created to whisper sweet nothings into the ears of the people.

They happily accept the scraps from the Stovie war machine. Gnawing on the excrements of their former lives, these 'citizens' live happily nestled in their new homes, away from the fighting and gun fights. Away from the war. Away from their countrymen.

“Fools.” You mutter.

People here signed away their freedom for an illusion of safety.

Defectors.

Traitors.

Rats.

The sheer thought of this place gives you nausea.

You check your watch. High noon.

The shouts of a young boy selling newspapers ring throughout the streets. You flag the boy down, paying him with the loose change left over from your coffee. You glance over the paper. It's blatant propaganda. But it still doesn't cease to amuse you.

You flip through the paper some more. It's headlines boast over the glory of the Estovakian armed forces. They flaunt the glamour of the Estovakian lifestyle. And they belittle the once proud Emmerian people. And all in all, it warrants little more than a sensible chuckle from you.

Your eyes shift from the paper to across the busy street. A small restaurant is nestled between a post office and an even smaller convenience store. It's red brick store front has seen better days, and little more than a humble sign above the doorway states it's presence.

It's there a certain person catches your attention. A young man, seated by the window of the restaurant. He idly munches on a slice of pepperoni while flicking at his smart phone.

He's a stoic man. Handsome. Tall. Brown hair, brown eyes. A Strong jaw line, and soft skin.

All features you've long since committed to memory.

His name is Vladmir Andreavich Your target.

Closing your eyes, you start to clear your mind. Setting you focus entirely on the mission on hand. It's a simple mission. One that should go on without a hitch. You play back the events in your mind like a play. Focusing on key moments, over and over again.

The execution of these key elements must be perfect as to not arouse suspicion to yourself and the others. You give a soft sigh to yourself. Tossing the odds in your head only leads to worry. For you of all people should know that there isn't a single plan in the world that doesn't meet some form of resistance. The eye of your mind wanders to bag of automatic rifles stashed underneath the passenger seat. And you shuffle around the seat, feeling the weight of the Kevlar armor vest on your shoulders. Should things turn ugly, there's Plan B.

There’s always a Plan B.

The cellphone set besides your coffee starts to ring.

You quickly pick up the phone and reply with a quick “Hello?”

A stark and powerful voice replies through the phone. Mac's voice.

“Anonymous?”

“Oi.” You hastily reply

“It's time. I've already told the others.”

The others. You think back to the mission briefing. Back to the half dozen or so people who were there with you. All of whom were probably scattered about the street right now. Ready to act on a moment's notice should the mission go awry.

Piercing open your eyes, you search for him.

“Are you ready?” Mac asks over the phone, the sounds of the city streets echoing through your earpiece. You continue searching for Mac until you spot him outside the pizza parlor, just a few dozen feet from Vladmir. His tall and gruff build is easy to spot amongst the spineless citizens of the zone.

“Ready as I'll ever be.” you reply.

“Good.” he remarks, his voice full of confidence.

You check your watch. Quarter past noon. You find the keys to the car and start her up, filling the cabin with the rhythmic chugging of the old engine, a serene sound that has always brought a sense of peace to you.

You quickly begin to ponder. Why?

Perhaps it’s a sense of nostalgia from your boyhood days? You always lent your father a hand with the mechanics work.

Or perhaps it was simply the inexplicable sense of reliability that came with the rhythmic chugging of the engine. The chugging of the old engine was something you could count on. You knew what to expect from the engine when the key was turned. A stark contrast to the unpredictable day to day life in the war. Perhaps your mind had subconsciously associated the sound of an engine with the sense of reliability and predictability. A result of your mind and life being constantly flung into a state of suspense and randomness that came with the war.

Whatever it was, you decide to find out later. For now, you focus your mind, and put yourself into action. Doing your best to emulate the plan you had set forth in your mind. Pulling out of your spot, you take the cab into traffic. You flick a small red switch on the dash, turning on the “ON DUTY” sign atop your cab.

You glance at your watch. Twenty past.

You pull the car back to the street you were on. This time, parking directly in front of the parlor. You wait a few moments before glancing out towards the pizza parlor.

Your palms start to sweat. Vladmir exits the parlor, a slice of pepperoni in one hand, and a briefcase in another. Glancing at the clock, you give a slight chuckle. Looks like intel was spot on with this one. He ran his daily schedule like a machine, precise and punctual. All of which only made your job easier.

Vladmir makes eye contact with you, to which you don't break away. He cocks his head to the side before making his was to your cab. The hairs on your end stand on end. He stands outside the passenger window and knocks on it a few times.

You lower the window, letting the cool A/C out, and allowing the blaring heat inside. Vladmir leans in on the door and pokes his head inside. His expression shifts a little bit as he feels the cool air against his skin.

“Hot day, isn't it?” he begins. His foreign accent is thick. You glance over the man, and acknowledge his statement with a simple nod. You both pause for a moment before he breaks the silence.

“Is this cab free?” he asks, peering around and glancing towards the back. You look at him. And look past him.

Mac is standing but a few feet behind him. He gives a slight nod.

You cough a few times as to not let your voice break before putting on the best Northern accent you could muster.

“Yeah, the cah's open. Need a lift?”

Vladmir nods and replies, “I need to go to 57th street. Up over to the square.”

“Yeah. I can take you.” you announce. You unlock the rear door before amiably asking him to hop in. Vladmir doesn't think twice and opens the door to the cab. You see his expression soften as the cool air of the cab soothes his skin. He tosses his bag and carefully climbs inside the cab, as to not stain his outfit with the greasy pizza slice.

He was about to close the door when Mac scurries to the cab door. Mac jams his hand between the door and car. He re-opens the door and pokes his head inside

“Mind if I share a cab with you?” he playfully asks, “These guys are just so damn expensive, it helps to save some money, you know?”

“I do.” Vladmir spitefully replies.

Mac's expression changes little as he climbs inside the cab, paying little attention to the Estovakian's remarks.

“Thanks again.” Mac laughs. “You know, you're saving me a fortune here.”

Vladmir expression changes from disgust to disbelief “This cab is taken.” he angrily replies. “Please leave.”

Mac closes the door behind him and locks the door.

Mac gives you a glance in the rear view mirror. He exchanges a slight nod of understanding with you. You lock all the doors from the inside and roll up all the windows. Turning the “ON DUTY” switch off, you pull out of the street and start speeding down the road.

Vladmir shifts his attention from Mac over to you.

“Excuse me? I didn't agree to this.” he loathe-fully snarks, “Stop the cab. Immidiately.”

You paid him no attention, but instead only increased your speed. Vladmir panicks, and tries to open the door.

No dice.

“Are you deaf!” he shouts. “Stop the cab!” Vladmir drops his pizza and reaches for something in his shirt pocket. You see this in your rear view and reach for the sidearm holstered against your body.

However, Mac was quicker to react than you. Mac acted on instincts and pulled out a small revolver from the small of his back. He grabbed it by the muzzle and beat him with it's butt.

There was a small struggle in the back of the car, it occasionally rocks the car to and fro. Your eyes constantly shifted from the road, to the rear view mirror. Carefully monitoring the situation, and keeping your free arm at the holster against your leg. Ready to draw it our at a moment's notice.

But as soon as the skirmish started, it ended. A soon bloodied and beaten Vladmir lied against the carpeted floor of the cab. Mac's knee pressed hard against his head, with a gun drawn against the base of his skull for good measure.

“We've got him.” Mac triumphantly announces.

“Thank god.” you sigh.

“Call it in.” Mac orders.

You give a slight nod. With your free hand, you dial a number with your cell phone. A young woman answers the phone, and with baited breath she asks on the status on the mission. You can just hear a wave of relief pass over her as you share the good news. Content, she explains your next set of orders.

Hundreds, if not thousands of people found residence within the militarized zone. Most of them were Estovakian soldiers, drifting around the city streets during their off shifts. Civilians and armed personnel mingled with each other on the city streets. And although promised security, a majority of defected citizens chose to stay boarded up inside their homes. Hiding under the covers from those who grant them their 'protection'

You guide the car along the freeway. Occasionally slowing down for a caravan of tanks or jeeps that pass you on the road. Under normal circumstances, driving this close to the enemy would almost guarantee a certain death. But the disguise seems to keep up. Hidden amongst the dozens, if not hundreds of cabs, you shift your way through traffic.

“There.” Mac points out, “Take the next exit.”

“You want to take the toll bridge?” you question. “That would take us out the zone.”

Mac leans up towards the front of the car and squints his eyes.

“Ah, you're right. Sorry.” he apologizes, “I think it's the one after.”

“Towards the Market District?” you ask.

Mac snaps his fingers repeatedly and bobs his head up and down. “Yeah. Market District.” he snaps, “That's the drop off point.”

You nod, and quickly change lanes as not to miss your exit. Occasionally, you hear a muffled yell erupt from the back. Despite being held hostage, Vladmir continues to put up a fight. He's a determined one. You'll give him that. But determination alone can only take a man so far.

Annoyed with Vladmir's struggles, Mac lands a quick blow to his gut. Whimpers of pain soon fill the car. One’s that you quickly drown out with the radio.

“Just keep driving.” he mumbles. “We'll get there soon enough.”

You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. Meeting Mac’s eyes in the mirror he starts, “It’s only been a few days since your discharge, I know.” his voice hoarse, yet sincere. “But I need your help now more than ever.” He pauses for a moment or two. “I’m sorry for pulling you back into the shit so early.”

“Hey.” you reply. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad to be here.”

“That’s a first. I’d give anything to get out of this shit.”

“Even your own life?”

“Maybe not my own, but I know a few Stovies who are more than willing.” Mac chuckles, all while pressing the pistol against Vladmir’s head.

“If anything, I should be thanking your ass.” You chuckle.

Mac gives a hearty laughter. “Oh yeah?” he blurts “Why’s that? If you like being in the shit so much, I’ll send your sorry ass to the front lines.”

You brush off Mac’s jesters.

Instead focusing entirely on the road and it’s drivers.

A few minutes pass before you bring the conversation up again.

“The nurse told me what you did… Back in the hospice.” you start,

“I fucking hate the hospice.” Mac grunts.

“There aren’t enough beds for everyone, so to compensate, they churn out patients as quickly as they can get them.”

“Hmph.”

“If you’re unlucky enough to land in there, the maximum stay anyone can get there is a few days, tops. And once they reach that time limit, the doctors pull the plug on em’ Recovered or not.” Mac glances at you and glances out the window.

“I heard you vouched for me, strong armed the doctors to let me stay as long as I needed...At least that’s what the nurse told me.”

“I just called in some old favors, is all. Nothing special.”

You scoff. “Well, whatever you think. I want you to know I’m grateful. That’s the second time you’ve saved my sorry ass.”

Mac bursts into laughter. “And I know for a fact, it won’t be the last!”

An eerie silence fills the room. A silence so deep and punctuating, it makes one's ears feel like they've been filled with cotton. Rarity and Twilight stand side by side over the sleeping human. His face shriveled and terrified. His breathing short and acute. And his skin soaked with a cold sweat.

Anonymous breaks into a dull murmur. His lips speaking something soft and barely audible. Twilight perks her ears and tries to listen. But she quickly droops them back down.

“I- I don't understand what he's saying.” she whispers.

“Do you think he's alright?” Rarity asks.

“I don't know.” Twilight replies.

Rarity trots over to her own bed. She paces around for a few steps before turning back to Twilight.

“Why was he crying just a minute ago?” Rarity asks. “Why was he screaming? Why doesn't he wake up?”

Twilight shakes her head.

“I don't know.” she solemnly replies.

“This isn't normal, is it?” Rarity asks.

Twilight take a moment to collect her thoughts. Her mind racing back to just yesterday. She recalls asking Anonymous the same question. > And she also recalls the solemn “No.” that was given in response.

“I don't think so.” Twilight adds.

“Should we call someone?” Rarity asks.

“No. I don't think it's a good idea.

“Why not?” Rarity replies, “He looks like he's suffering!”

“It's probably just a nightmare. He'll get by it.” Twilight says, her voice meticulously unsure of herself.

A few moments pass.

“He's stopped.” Rarity paused. She takes a step closer to Anonymous. She studies him in his weakest state. She presses her hoof against his head.

It’s hot. Too hot. She glances back at Twilight with a worries look.

Running her hoof along his arm to his hand. She feels his hand weakly grasp her hoof, and she can almost feel a sense of relief pass over the both of them.

“Whatever it was.” she whispers, “I think it's passed.”

Author's Note

Originally a greentext that is now 'converted' to prose.

Please excuse any grammatical errors or formatting errors.