The sun was starting to set as a sea of helpless people pushed and shoved each other to get to one destination. John clung to his children tightly, since they can easily be lost in a crowd of fearful souls. Cody was forced to carry Anya with her head over his shoulder, as he swivelled his head in every imaginable direction, frantically searching for one person in particular.

There was a group of armed soldiers a few meters in front of them, examining citizens before either sending them to buses in a convoy formation or forcefully escorting them to a quarantined zone.

“Daddy? Where are we going?” John’s daughter tugged on his jeans to get his attention. He could barely hear her among the anxious cries of the individuals around him.

“S-somewhere safe, Mabel. Somewhere safe...” He pulled them closer to his legs, practically restraining them from going anywhere else. Silently, he vowed to himself that he would never let them go.

“CODY!” a young voice among the crowd shouted. Cody’s turning became more frantic at the mention of his name. A smile formed on his face with a sigh of relief once he found what he was looking for.

A young woman with blonde hair pushed through people rather forcefully to get to Cody. She managed to hug both Cody and Anya before giving Cody a wet kiss. John’s children looked away in disgust.

“Thank God you’re alright!” Cody said with relief after breaking the kiss.

“I’m thankful you’re alright too. He wouldn’t shut up about you," John joked. The woman approached him to give hive a warm, friendly hug. “It’s good to see you, Johnathan.”

“It’s good to see you too, Jen," he replied.

“And how are my little trouble makers?” Jen knelt down to give her nephews some love. They wrapped their arms around her with expressive smiles on their faces. “You guys are getting so big!”

The children giggled as the hug was broken. Jen stood up to face a more serious looking John. “Do you know what is going on?”

“A little. Some anti-terrorist group is sending people to a safe zone in Berlin, but only during the day," she explained.

“What anti-terrorist group?” Cody asked as he led the group through the crowd.

“GSG 9, I think," She stroked Anya’s head as Cody continued to push through the crowd. John clung to his children as tight as he could, struggling to get through the wall of people. After a while, he saw a group of heavily armed soldiers guarding large buses. The crowd was too thick to pass at this point.

After around ten minutes of waiting in line, they finally reached the entrance of one of the buses. It was heavily guarded; soldiers with full riot gear guarded the entrance while taking ID’s and blood samples.

“We’re almost there," Cody reassured. As soon as he stepped forward, a guard pushed him back. “Hey! What the hell, mate?” The guard took a defensive stance, but didn’t hold his gun up. Anya growled, sensing the hostility the soldier showed.

“The transport is getting too packed. We are taking women and children only until the it has reached its capacity," the soldier stated in a harsh, muffled voice.

“Are you kidding me? You can't fit in a few more-“ Cody was cut off by an assault rifle pointed at his head.

“Back off, sir.” The soldier nearly clicked off his safety before Jen stood in between them. The soldier slowly put the weapon down as Jen faced Cody.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine," he said, rubbing his chest while still holding Anya. Jen reached for the back of her neck. In a swift movement, she removed a necklace from around her neck. It was a cheap, bronze heart.

“Here, take this.”

“But it’s not mine.” Jen simply laughed at that statement. Cody was always too corny for his own good. She forcefully stuffed it in his palm.

“I’ll let you borrow it until you see me again. Ok? Promise you’ll bring it back to me.” Cody closed his palm before kissing his wife intimately.

“I promise," He said.

“Jen, take them with you," John interrupted. He kneeled to face his children. “I want you two to go with Aunt Jen, alright?”

“Daddy?”

“Be good for her.” Jen took their hands and took them away. As they were processed, they continued to look at him.

“Daddy!? I don’t want leave you! DADDY!” Mabel shouted as they were escorted in the bus. Cody approached John, who looked like he was on the point of sobbing then and there.

“We’ll see them again. Trust me," Cody said in his usual light-hearted tone.

“Yeah," he replied.

“Attention all refugees: evacuations have been concluded for today, and will resume tomorrow. You will be escorted to barracks, where you will sleep for the night. Curfew will be active, and anyone who breaks curfew will be arrested on site.” The announcement could be heard across the small camp. John took one last glimpse down the road where the bus was taking.

I will see them again.

Dash watched as John kissed Cody on this forehead for the last time. She heard him whispering something in his ear, presumably more apologies towards his demise. John had cleaned his body beforehand, and moved his body in a dark empty room. He also stitched up his wound to give him an “open-casket funeral look”.

Even Anya looked miserable, aware that her master was dead. She no longer had the “smile” when she panted, and her tail wasn’t moving. She sat next to Dash, watching as John said his goodbyes.

Dash looked down at her hooves, which were still stained with his blood. She could still feel the horrific sensation of his breath slipping away. The whole event haunted her, especially the fact the she couldn’t stop it. She never felt so powerless before.

Suddenly, John stood up and poured the full Jerrycan that the bandits forgot over Cody’s body. The smell of gasoline filled the room in an instant. “What are you doing?” Dash asked, being the first one to say anything n a while. John didn’t answer until he threw the empty can off to the side.

“I want him cremated. I’m not going to allow those ghouls or scavengers violate his body," he said. His voice was notably shakier than usual. Dash emitted a quiet “Oh” as John frantically searched his pockets for something to start the fire. He pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, retrieved one match.

The match sparked, but didn’t go alight, causing John to mutter profanities at it. He discarded the dead match, and retrieved a new one. The small flame came to life as he struck the match against the box.

As he dropped the match, the body bursts into flames, surprising both Dash and Anya. “Come on, you two, let’s get out of here," he ordered, regaining a steady voice again. He clicked his tongue to catch Anya’s attention.

Dash quickly trotted to John, avoiding the rampaging flames along the way. She nearly gagged when the scent of burning meat flowed through the air. Anya followed her closely, continually staring at the burning body along the way.

John made his way back to the lobby, and searched the dead bandit’s body. As he figured, that particular bandit didn’t carry important supplies, so he only managed to scavenge a half-empty pistol and some extra ammunition for it.

John and the others made their way outside as John sat down near the entrance. Dash sat next to him, and Anya decided to lie in front of them.

“Are we safe here?” Dash asked cautiously.

“If you are referring to the fire, yeah, we’re fine," John replied. There were a few moments of a sombre silence between them. Off in the distance, a murder of crows could be heard, shouting at each other.

“I’m... I’m sorry about Cody," she said quietly. John didn’t answer, but continued to stare off in the distance. “I know you two were close.”

John scoffed. “Don’t apologize. There was nothing we could do for him.” John took his rifle and detached the magazine. “It was a sucking chest wound. I wouldn’t even have a big chance to save him even if I had the right tools at my disposal," he explained, as he loaded some bullets into the magazine.

Dash looked down on her hooves, still horrified at the fact that they were still stained with Cody’s blood. “Those bastards stole our food and water," John muttered. Dash took her gaze off of her hooves to look at John, who was seemingly talking to himself.

“So... what are we going to do now?” she asked hesitantly.

“What do you think?” The rifle clicked as John slid the magazine back in place. “We’re going to get our supplies back," he replied coldly.

“And how are we going to get them back? Walk up to them and ask them for it?” she said sarcastically. John just stared at her with an empty expression.

“Haven’t you figured out how this place works yet? I’m going to kill them.” Suddenly, John stood up and began walking down the street, ordering Anya to follow by clicking his tongue.

“Woah, woah, woah, are you serious? You can’t kill them!” Dash flew up in front of his face, which still held a heartless expression.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s wrong!”

John snickered sarcastically. “You should’ve said that before they murdered Cody. In fact, they should’ve found you first so that you can tell them that before they murdered other people for their personal gain! Then the whole fucking world would be perfect!” he yelled, grabbing his hair as if he solved a really complicated question. “Wow, your philosophy is absolutely flawless!” he yelled once again in sarcasm.

“Jeez, what the hell is wrong with you?!” she asked, pissed off from be ridiculed.

“What’s wrong with me? Well, I don’t know if you have noticed, but my brother, who I knew since he was a baby, was murdered in cold blood, and you want the culprits to get away with it!” He pointed his index finger at her as pure anger filled in his eyes.

“I never said that! I just said that we can’t kill them!”

“Oh, right, because it’s wrong. Then tell me, what should we do to them?”

A few moments of silence fell between them. Anya lowered her ears to the side of her head in an attempt to ignore the yelling. “That’s what I thought.” He continued to walk along the road, leaving Dash behind.

Dash pondered on their argument, and wondered if he was serious about taking away another person’s life. In the back of her mind, she wanted to leave him and fend for herself, but another part of her wanted to stay with him. No matter what, he was still a friend, and he was only acting this way because it was him form of coping with Cody’s death.

Shaking her head, she decided to catch up with them. She knew that she’d probably have a better chance of survival with a group. Still, she was worried about John’s mental status. Cody’s death hit her hard, and she only knew him for a couple of days, but John knew him for his whole life.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” she asked, trying to forget the negative thoughts her mind was pushing on her.

“Somewhat," he said, pointing to a small piece of burned brass on the ground. “We’re following those bullet cases. Like Hansel and Gretel," he explained.

“Hand-sell and who now?” Dash asked, once again confused at a reference to human culture.

John sighed, obviously annoyed. “It’s a human fairy-tail. It’s about a couple of kids who left breads crumbs on the ground to create a path home, then they found a house made of sweets.”

“That sounds like a boring story," she replied, attempting to bring them in a lighter mood.

“It gets better," he deadpanned.

Dash was wary about him now. His anger was still in his eyes, but there was an eerie calmness to his voice. In her whole life, she has never seen anything so full with hatred as John was. She barely knew what exactly what he was capable of, except that he was clever, strong, and survived off of this wasteland exceptionally well. She has seen him kill those monsters, and noticed at how experienced he looked when he did.

But he couldn’t kill another human, right?

“Another one," John muttered. After for what seemed like an hour of aimlessly walking, the trio came across another lifeless body. “They looted him too.”

Dash watched John examined the cause of death by poking, prodding, and manipulating specific parts of the body. She decided to look away after seeing a brutal slash on the man’s neck. She heard John mutter to himself, presumably concluding the time and weapons used to cause the wounds on the body.

Quietly, she kicked a rock to distract herself from another disgusting scene. Anya placed her haunches next to her equine companion, waiting for John to give an order or for someone play with her. Dash lost the stone by kicking it too hard, sending it a few steps away. Sighing, she traced its trajectory, avoiding a glimpse at John fondling a corpse.

Something from the building she mistakenly noticed caught her eye. On a cracked window, she could make out a silhouette of a live human being slamming on something. She was about to warn her “partner”, until a large creaking noise startled him.

“Shit.” He slid behind a car as quickly as possible, avoiding broken glass shards from the shattered windshield. “Get the fuck over here!” He ordered in a frantic whisper. Dash complied, zipping next to him while keeping her head down. Anya followed, and John clasped her muzzle shut to keep her from growling or barking.

Slowly, John peeked over his shoulder to get a peek at the guard who left. Dash waited for him to set himself down to give a status report, but instead he came back with an eerie smile on his face. He even chuckled silently. Dash didn’t know whether to feel relieved or scared.

“This is perfect," John muttered as he pulled his face mask over his face.

“Who is it? Are we safe?” Dash whispered. John replied with a “shhh” and a finger over his mouth as he gently placed his rifle on the ground. He ordered Anya to stay, which of course, she obeyed.

Without warning, John stood up with both hands raised in the air. She heard a gruff voice shout at him in an oddly familiar language. John replied back, but much slower, as if he was choosing his words carefully. Dash decided to peek from the side of the car.

She gasped.

It was one of the bandits. One of the same bandits who killed Cody. She would never forget their faces, albeit the ones who concealed their identities. Her heart started racing at this point.

Despite all the dirt and grime, the bandit looked quite young, perhaps in his early twenties. Strands of brownish hair poke out from his hood, and patches of an unshaven beard dotted his face. He pointed a large gun at John, but she could tell it wasn’t a rifle. It had no magazine, and it looked like it had a pump of some kind under the barrel of the weapon.

John slowly reached into his jacket, and received a flat tin of food from his pocket, his voice gentle and reassuring. Dash felt sick to her stomach when she noticed a shard of glass in the back of John’s jeans.

In reality, what transpired happened in a minute or so. However, Das was in such a state of disbelief that it felt like hours. She stood there, dumbfounded as John covered his victim’s mouth to prevent him from screaming. In another swift movement, he shoved the shard into his abdomen, forcing his opponent on his back. John kept his mouth covered as he kept slicing through him over and over and over again. Blood spewed as he ripped through soft tissue, severing arteries and organs alike.

The bandit, still clinging to life, attempted to reach for his weapon, but to no avail. Eventually, the muffled screams and struggling turned into a faint sound of meat being chopped, and bones breaking. Blood started to paint the road, and stained John’s clothing with each jab.

It was over after a long, brutal minute. John dropped the weapon from his blood-soaked palm, breathing heavily as he slowly stood to his feet. Dash saw the anger in his eyes, along with what she feared as satisfaction. He snatched his victim’s weapon, and returned to retrieve his own weapon and canine. He payed no attention to Dash or how she was now fearful of him.

Dash usually wasn’t scared of anything, and if she was, she would never show it. She held her own against many situations from the emotion-consuming changelings, to the malevolent Nightmare Moon, and even fire-breathing dragons. But this human, who could kill another sentient being with no emotion, legitimately scared her, not from what he could do to her, but what he was going to do to others.

John slung the rifle over his back, keeping the shotgun in his hands. As he started to approach the door, Dash flew in front of him, purposely in his way. His facemask hid the scowl on his face.

“Get out of my way," he said calmly.

“No. I-I can’t let you do this.” Her voice stuttered, but she held her position.

John scoffed. “Why? Because it’s wrong?” His tone slightly shifted from calm to anger, but he kept his cool. “Think about it this way: if they are kept alive, then they will kill and rob every unfortunate bastard who just want to stay alive, and no one is going to stop them. Getting rid of them could potentially save a lot of people.”

His tone made Dash flinch. He talked about them as if they didn’t have lives. He talked about them as if they were pest, the same way somepony would talk about a parasprite, or a cockroach.

“Now. Move. Out. Of. My. Way," he ordered sternly. Without warning he walked forward, forcing Dash to dodge him. Once again, she tried to stop him, but it was too late.

He entered the building, taking cover under the staircase, and silently commanded Anya to stay put and be quiet. He stayed still, attempting to decipher every sound within the building.

Dash turned to stare down the open road behind her. She could just abandon John; leave him there to commit murder while she could leave to find her own path home. But, it was out of her character to do so. Even with all the bullshit John gave her, he still cared for her safety, even if it wasn't immediately noticeable. That made him a friend. Obnoxious, ignorant, and sometimes a plain asshole, but a friend nonetheless.

She does not abandon friends.

She flew in the house, ready to back-up John if he needed it. John acknowledge her with a quick glimpse, his expression hidden under his face mask.

Two of the five bandits had already lost their lives, so it was technically an even match, as far as bodies were concerned. Plus, they had the element of surprise, so they were at an advantage.

Am I really thinking about killing somepony? she thought fearfully. Loud footsteps trampled the stairs above them. Dash took a deep, silent breathe, readying herself for the oncoming events. No. I don't have to kill them. All I need to do is keep John alive. I'll come up with something.

The footsteps approached closer down the stairs. John moved closer to the end of the stairs, taking cover behind a large wardrobe which allowed him to stand at his full height.

The bandit finally reached the bottom of the steps, unbeknownst of the intruders inside the building. He wore a tinted paintball helmet, with a dirty, green, overcoat that was torn and shredded around the arms.

John couldn't peek without the certainty of being noticed, so he signaled Dash with a thumbs up and a questioning look in his eyes. Dash caught on, and decided to take a peek. She flipped the hood of her jacket over her head to minimize the chances of being spotted due to her colors.

Slowly, she dipped her head to the side. She saw the bandit with his front facing toward her and instinctively pulled back. She waited for a few moments before checking the corner again. She dipped her head, this time seeing the bandit's back facing toward her. She looked back at John and gave a nod.

John nodded back, and gave a swift turn, aiming his shotgun at his target.

CRACK!

CHIK-CHAK

The explosion of the gun destroyed every bit of silence in the area. The bandit was knock down on the ground, lifeless, as meat from his torso splattered on the walls in multiple directions. The flesh around the exit wound was flayed open, exposing bones from the lower rib cage and broken, leathery parts of the digestive system. The stomach took the most damage; the contents that were within it spilled and dripped from the busted sac.

The sheer brutality of the weapon was enough to make Dash flinch. Somewhere in her mind, she hoped that the victim had a quick and painless death. She was also curious on what humans used the for before the apocalypse.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a volley of gunfire from across the room, all of them aimed towards John. At this point, Anya started barking against the noise, giving away Dash's hiding place beneath the stairs. John returned fire blindly, shooting his weapon without peeking from his cover.

CLICK

John cursed silently as he realized that may have been the sound of an imminent death.

Before he could even make a slight movement towards his assault rifle, an unnaturally large hand clasped at the breast of his coat, dragging him from his cover. The bandit - this one being the largest one from the group - actually had the strength to pick him up from his feet, and toss onto the ground next to his fallen comrade. John's breath was knocked out of him, and a numbing sensation passed through his legs. He concluded that his chances were slim when the steroid junkie approached him with a lead pipe in hand.

Dash flew in with enough speed to match an insect's wing beat, and kicked the bandit's shoulder, ultimately dislocating it. Instead of the cries of pain she expected, there was little to no reaction. He slowly turned around and forced his shoulder back in place. Anya simply barked at him and did nothing else, since she wasn't taught to kill nor has tasted raw blood. The bandit kicked Dash from the air, making her crash into the wardrobe behind her. Anya quickly came to her rescue.

Assuming that he was done with the pegasus, the bandit decided to finish what he started. Slowly, he approached John as he was still regaining feeling in his legs, dragging the slab of metal across the wooden floor.

Dash got up almost immediately, surrounded by various weapons that were stored inside the wardrobe. One in particular caught her eye. It was a rifle that was missing a trigger guard, and the stock was jury-rigged in a position that would best suit her. Acting out of instinct, she grabbed the weapon with her hoofs, and held it against her shoulder. She pointed at her target, making sure to control her breathing. The bandit raised him arm up high, ready to give the killing blow.

Another loud crack echoed around the brick walls followed the the popping sound of the bandit’s kneecap exploding. Without the joint to support his weight, the bandit collapsed on his back, screaming in pain. He was permanently crippled, thanks to Rainbow Dash.

John soon brought himself back up to his feet, snatching the pipe from the ground as he regained his footing. He kicked the gas mask off from his opponent’s face. He wanted to know his face before he ended him. With one heavy swing, he brought down the pipe to the scarred, unappealing face.

A sickening crunch, almost akin to a shoe crushing a scorpion, emitted from the attack. As John pulled back, Dash noticed the what used to be the bandit’s face was replaced with a dented, gooey mess. John wiped off the blood from around his eyes. One more left. he thought, as he climbed up the stairs.

Dash followed him closely, ignoring the fact that she assisted in murdering someone, or at least, pretending to ignore it. Once upstairs, John positioned himself outside of a door, determined to break it down. He motioned his head for Dash to move to the other side of him as he armed himself with his assault rifle. She could hear someone in there, fumbling around with small miscellaneous trinkets.

John held Anya behind him, and whispered for her to stay. He turn back to Dash, for was preparing herself for what might happen. With his fingers, he slowly counted down from three to one.

The broke open the door with a loud crash. Both John and Dash pointed their weapons at a surprised bandit leader. “Hands on your head!” John shouted. The bandit obeyed, seemingly defeated, and placed his hands on top of the mask that concealed his face. “Where are the items you stole from me?” John kept an eye on him as he pointed to a closet.

Dash eyed the bandit as John moved to investigate the said closet. Something about him just seemed off. He definitely heard the gunshots and the struggling on the first floor, yet he gave himself up too easily, not to mention that he was completely unarmed. It didn’t help that she couldn’t read his expression due to the mask the hid his entire face. John eventually left the closet, causing Dash to glance at him for a brief moment.

In a second, Dash was grabbed from her neck without her weapon and a gun at her head. She tried to struggle, but her attacker just squeezed her neck tighter. She would’ve been impressed by the speed of the bandit, if she wasn’t being used as a meat shield. To make the situation even worse, the bandit walked behind the desk, effectively shielding his legs.

“Make one step towards me, Brit, and I’ll kill this bitch," he warned John, who was now aiming his rifle at him. “Where’s the blonde idiot? There were suppose to be three of you and that dog.” John eye’s dilated into a form of anger at the mention of the “blonde idiot”. The bandit chuckled. “Oh, I see. Come for a little revenge have we?”

“Just let her go, and no one else gets hurt," John said calmly.

“Can’t do that, Brit. Now, if you leave here empty handed, I might consider that request.” The bandit squeezed her neck tighter and she struggled to breath.

“You don’t understand how important she is. She can cure this plague! She-”

“You expect me to give a shit? I’ll kill her like the animal she is if you don’t cooperate with me.”

A spark of anger overcame Dash. Who was he to call her an animal when he killed many innocent people instead of asking for supplies? With the rest of her strength, she shifted her head low enough to taste one of his bare fingers. She bit down on his index finger, and didn’t stop until she tasted blood.

The bandit dropped his revolver, and let her go to tend to his broken finger. “You bitch!” he shouted in pain. John charged at his with his knife, but the bandit wouldn’t go down without a fight. Even with a shattered finger, he managed to hold off John’s attack. forcing John to pin him on top of the desk.

Without thinking, Dash grabbed her gun as the two tried to kill each other. She aimed it at the bandit, who now had the advantage of pinning John down on the desk with the knife turned on him. With a deep breath, she pulled the trigger.

When gun fired, the world for Dash seemed to slow down. She could see the bullet pierce the bandit’s tinted visor, shattering it like a hammer smashing a window. She could see how the shard of lead stab his eye, rendering it nothing more than useless pieces of flesh. Blood splattered in the parts of the visor that weren’t broken and on John’s face. His body was now a useless composition of carbon, nothing more than a sack of meat full of bags of flesh.

She killed him.

In Equestria, war was only found in stories, and the very thought of killing another living sentient being was beyond taboo. Even during the Changeling Invasion, nopony killed anyone of those bugs, and even did everything in their power to spare them. Love and friendship would always win the day; she and her friends proved that.

On here, however, love and friendship was scarce. killing was a thing of life even before the plague. It was evident wherever she went. The pictures of armies on the billboards, the amount of firepower the police stored in their stations, hell, weapons and ammo were sold to the general public. The hellish nature of this place was starting to sink into her. It changed her in a way that no infection could, and it could never be cured.

I killed kim. How could I kill him?! John grabbed his gear and started to loot the place, leaving Dash to her own thoughts.

She thought about her friends (Could she even call them that anymore?), and what they would think of her. She went against everything they stood for by a small pull of a trigger.

“Come on, Dash. Let’s get out of here," John said, snapping Dash out of her thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah," she whispered. She followed John and Anya down the stairs. She glanced at the two lifeless bodies, particularly at the one she help kill. I’m a monster. she thought. She repeated it in her head when they left the building. She longed to find a way home as soon as possible when she first arrived in the wasteland. Now, she thought that she couldn't return. I’m a monster.

Author's Note

Thank you for your patience, everyone. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism if you so desire. Also, I hope you enjoyed your slaughtered turkeys as much as I did!