Chapters Chapter 2
Liquid ran down my cheek as I lay silently on a small patch of moss. Stalks of reeds brushed against my sides causing slight irritation. All in all though, I was in a peaceful place. Osiridium sat by my side, my eyes lightly closed and eyelashes fluttering in the wind. Red circles surrounded his teal coloured eyes from crying and a large bandage covered his entire abdomen. He breathed with a rasp and did so heavily, as the horrible images of what occurred haunted his mind and the feeling of pure terror. Escaping was difficult; he had had to kill four ponies. The green one survived and limped away soon after he had received a knife to the chest. Osiridium carried me for a mile into the city, until he found a dry riverbed. He lay me down and cried.
Chapter 3
There was no pain more than what I felt underneath that bridge. Even in my coma I seemed to still feel pain. I had no idea why because it seemed that one would feel nothing when they were unconscious. My leg was pulsating slightly underneath the bandage that was poorly bound. Beneath the layer was a red tint with blood from the wound that I had received from the insane thing that bit me. It was not in much danger of a normal infection though because the radiation killed most of the bacteria and infections that used to exist. The only problem now was that it may get irradiated and create a tumour which, of course, would have to be surgically removed. The shoddy maintenance job with my leg had left it in a bad way. After my mishap in the courtyard I had had to be carried away.
“So how long was that?” I asked.
Going was slow when we left. The area was surrounded by steep near vertical walls that held next to no grip. My leg was impeding progress and began to twinge every time it hit the floor. After about five minutes of trying to climb the sides we remembered that we were unicorns and we could just teleport out. Osiridium pointed this out and disappeared from my side, only to appear above me on the ledge half a second later. “Come on,” he said, a little impatient with me now. I tried my best but the fight had taken it out of me and I hadn’t the energy to perform the required spell. Osiridium rolled his eyes and encompassed me in his magical aura. I smiled apologetically in his direction before being transported by his side. “Sorry about that,” I said sheepishly.
Being handicapped was starting to become a large problem. I elevated my back leg and walked on three to stop the pain. This did come at the price of being embarrassingly slow and cumbersome. The weight on my exhausted shoulders didn’t help. It was only then that I noticed that Osiridium was perfectly fine. According to recent memory, Osiridium should have a large chest wound. But he didn’t. He was walking at his normal pace; there was no blood, no scars and no visible organs. What had happened when I had seen him crash into the room that I had been held captive in approximately 5 hours ago? Had I been drugged and seeing things? Or had I been hallucinating with all of the pressure that was being exerted upon my brain? The thought that I hadn’t seen properly what was going on was a little shaking. Osiridium stopped and waited for my sluggish approach. I blushed in mild humiliation and kept walking, Osiridium alongside.
The city was like a death trap. Piles of rubble and narrow alleyways all accentuated the feeling of presence. It seemed that a pony could easily hide a whale here. I had to be constantly alert. This sadly meant that I was constantly aware of pain. Every once in a while, a few corpses would be seen in the streets, some with belongings. The scene was poignant, especially when I saw three small ponies. Three fillies lying dead on the floor in the middle of the road. Their bodies were slightly charred and their eyes were either degrading or gone. I could make out the colours ever so slightly. Blue, black, and burgundy. The black one had both back legs missing; the blue had a chunk of his chest ripped off revealing his grey ribcage and silent lungs. The burgundy one was a little different though. There was a clean line running from the side of the mouth, underneath the eyes to the very bottom of the ear. It was pink in colour with spots of black at irregular intervals. Pus leaked out at the corner by the ear and there were a few streaks of blood that had hardened and become a gritty mess all over the filly’s face. I tried my best to fight my curiosity but it eventually took over and I felt along the line. It was soft and thin with the slightest hint of depth. The cut seemed to get deeper the further away it was from the mouth which seemed a little odd. It seemed that this facial damage was intentionally caused. When I had my hoof touching just the very corner of the mouth, it opened slightly with me putting a minute amount of pressure upon the face. Instead of just the mouth, the entire side of the face also separated. I screamed as I realised that this was no usual incision. Somepony had cut the face in half. Osiridium turned when he heard my cry of terror and came sprinting back to me. “What? What is it?” I stayed silent; I couldn’t see a brain in there. Osiridium noticed the filly and pulled me away. The head returned gradually back to a closed position, making it look like nothing had happened.
I knew that that would cause me some trauma for a while. I couldn’t get the image out of my head now and it seemed that I would have to deal with it through intense thought focussing in order to make myself not think about it. I felt something tap my hoof and then slowly wrap itself around it. I had a good idea of who it was and my prediction was correct. Osiridium held my hoof in his. And the touch was ever so dainty that it was neither uncomfortable nor provoking.
I was lachrymose in this situation. It’s not that I hadn’t seen death before (I had dished out a lot of it), it’s just that I had never seen death like this. I could imagine the fillies having a happy life and aspirations and loving families, all lost in the mists of time and radiation. I turned my head and hobbled away from the scene in the aspired direction of travel. I couldn’t stand being there any longer or I would have cried. I walked as fast as I could down the road, tunnel visioning, not looking at anything other than the T junction that lay ahead. I was so hell-bent on getting to the road fork that I nearly tripped over a wild piece of rubble that happened to be in my way. I stumbled a bit and my concentration was broken. My back leg instinctively dropped down to stable myself but it was only met with excruciating pain and instant re-elevation. Osiridium had caught up with me and was walking alongside.
Rounding a street corner, I found myself stop and look straight forward in amazement. An elegant structure stood before me. It had small parts chipping off and a massive chunk was blown off but it was mostly intact; apart from the boarded up roof that totally didn’t look suspicious. I was awoken from my trance when a bullet whizzed past my head and ricocheted off the concrete directly next to Osiridium who jumped in unison with me. I looked at the top of the cathedral tower and limped about trying my utmost to dodge any oncoming shots. Osiridium sprinted forward, zigzagging his way towards the wall. I followed slowly and narrowly avoided another shot. Whoever this gunner was, he/she surely wasn’t a marksman. We pressed up against the wall underneath a spire so as to keep out of sight. “Do you have any idea at all about what that was?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Nope, but my best guess is that these are just some raiders.” I thought for a way to deal with the nuisance. I looked around in my mind for anything that could help. I realised soon after though, and unstrapped the rifle from my back. I held it in my magic because of my handicap (which I didn’t like doing) and started snaking my way around the wall to my left, hugging the sandstone brick with my back.
“Sie bewegen sich nicht oder ich werde schießen,” (Don’t move or I will shoot) said the voice. It sounded like it was wavering with nerves. Osiridium reached to scratch his leg (I had peered round the corner slightly) and was instantly picked up on it.
Osiridium ducked down and used his magic to fire a shot straight into the heart of the gun wielder. He moved it slightly and fired again, this time piercing the lung of a mare. A final shot was ejected from the barrel and passed straight through the neck of the third and final bandit. I stood shocked at how calm he seemed to be throughout the entire ordeal. I found myself, jaw wide open, trying to regain my thoughts. The next thing I knew, Osiridium was pushing my mouth closed with his hoof and walking back and in to the Cathedral. I hobbled after him and entered the dark structure. The smell of Hydrogen Sulphide (H₂S) polluted the building and what was left of the stained glass windows proved unimpressive in its current state. An awful draft wafted through the room suddenly, probably from the missing roof, causing me to shiver unpleasantly.
The box lid flopped down on top and blocked the hideous sight from view. I started laughing. It was quite funny how even in the dangerous wasteland, there are still things that exist and nopony knows why. I mean, why would anyone keep eggs for eight years? By the looks of things, that was the only thing there! The only thing that this bandit group has kept, are some rotten eggs! One had to laugh at that. I paced out and started to search the bodies. One wore a coat that had a box inside. On the front it said, ‘Premium Brand Cigars’. The coat also contained a pouch of six pins and a timer (which I kept) and an empty plastic bottle.
Osiridium showed up after a more thorough search and came out holding an assault rifle and a key in mid-air. “I found this on the guy in the tower,” he said, holding out the key and rifle. I gasped and took hold of the mechanism. I placed it in the lock and twisted. The attempt proved fruitful, as the lock clicked open and I wrestled it off the narrow hole that it was placed through. The cap popped up on a brass hinge and showed an un-labelled switch. I gave it a bemused look and glanced at Osiridium who shrugged nonchalantly. I felt inclined to flip it but decided not to for fear of something bad happening. It was something subconscious that told me not to. “Let’s just move on,” I suggested nervously.
We walked on down another street and in through a park. Nopony could be seen there which gave me at least a small sense of security. There were dead trees poking out of the ground like inverted roots, branches sprawling in every which way that they could point but they were, obviously, not decorated with attractive foliage. The grass was turning grey and there was an unknown type of ivy encompassing the trees that were there. It was tinted dark red with orange leaves. Instinct told me that poison inhabited that parasitic plant. Even so, it was good to see some colour in the world that I hadn’t seen for a while (excluding blood).
A widely spanning toll gate marked the very edge of the city. The sun was half over the horizon and the shadows were a few metres longer than normal. I had managed the day on three legs but only just. The ones that I was using were beginning to shake under my own weight and a few blisters had popped up on the soles. I thought that any longer walking on them would have caused a stress fracture or something bad like that. I yawned loudly, Osiridium silently marching with me. “Should we stop?” he asked.
We hobbled into one of the booths that seemed bigger on the inside. I instantly threw off my coat and made to unbuckle the brace that held my weapon in place. I sat down next to it, lungs stinging and heart pounding. Osiridium followed my example and closed the door before carefully placing his saddlebag on the floor for fear of the honey contained inside it smashing. We sat there, exhausted and in need of rest, one pony, can’t imagine who, with a severe injury.
I shakily reached my hoof down to the bandage. Pulling out the clip that held it in place, I unravelled the first layer, then the second. The blood that had escaped the gouge had dried and all that was left was a deep cavern in my leg. I could see the muscle tissues and sinews rent apart with stringy substances poking out of the sides. I closed my eyes and turned up my head, regulating my breathing so as not to feel sick. I looked again; this time I noticed the white line that was my bone. It had a tiny scratch down the centre and was probably one of the main causes of the pain. There were multiple gashes that seemed all the same, all showing the same things apart from one that was too far away from the bone to show it.
I asked for a needle and string from Osiridium which ended well. Osiridium only had a reel of unflavoured dental floss. The only problem was finding a needle. I searched every single pocket in my coat and Osiridium searched every single baggage compartment but the closest thing to a needle was an empty, unused injection in the bag. After some hard work, we separated the needle from the syringe and tied the floss around it. I gritted my teeth and touched the point to the flesh underneath my fur. Using my magic, I pierced it and pulled it through tight. I repeated this process, grunting slightly every time the needle passed through my leg. I did this with every other laceration before replacing the bandages and giving back what was left of the dental floss to Osiridium. He looked at it a little uncomfortably and just threw it away. Meanwhile, I was still getting over the fact that I had just stitched up my leg with a tooth cleaning wire.
“Do you want this?” The rifle hovered between us surrounded by the magical grey … magic, of Osiridium.
Oh the conversations we would have. We decided that we needed food (obviously) and water (even more obvious). Onto the fire went a potato and leek soup rat pack along with a vegetable and rice pack. Creating another fire, we placed some water into an empty jar to boil and hopefully sterilise. I was in charge of the solid sustenance so I tried my best to heat each one through so as to correspond with the purification time of the water. When both were ready, I gave him the rice ration to try. He opened it, closed his eyes and tipped a mouthful onto his tongue. He swallowed the mixture and shook in disgust at the old ration pack. He then washed it down with a mouthful of water. My ‘food’ looked more like someone had been sick in a bag and filled it with grass and sand. I had never eaten a rat pack before so I turned my nose in disgust.
“Eat up,” said the blue unicorn.
I took a deep breath, shut my eyes and poured the ‘shit-in-a-bag’ down my throat. It slipped away through my oesophagus, solid particles sticking to the back of my throat and my tongue. I coughed and almost regurgitated what looked like a previous regurgitation, and tasted like it for that matter. I snorted, trying to wash it down with any liquid that was already in my body (in this case mucus). I gave up this plight and downed a fifth of my water. I wiped my lips and picked the rat pack up again. It looked even worse than before because it had a few larger bits of potato making it look like someone’s mashed potato gone wrong. They were dripping wet from all of the moisture soaked up into them and showed no sign of becoming any more tasteful than flour.
I had to force myself to eat the rest while Osiridium managed to finish his with little problem. Envious, I started to feel myself sulk. Irritation flooded my veins and the want for petty revenge for Osiridium enjoying his dinner more than me. I forced myself not to throw the excess from my pack into his water and just sat there in silence while we digested the meals. Mine didn’t sit well in my stomach though and I wanted to vomit so much at that moment. I had to go to my dark place and not focus on anything around me other than the thoughts in my head.
The sun had disappeared from view and we were now in total darkness. I illuminated my horn and pulled something out of an inner coat pocket. Flipping a page from my last tab, I started reading.
We lay there in silence, mostly. The only noises were our breathing and my pages turning every few minutes. In my head I was anticipating the next action of the stallion that featured in the book, Archibald Ives. I especially liked the part about him being held prisoner in Stalag Luft Drei where he was held for a very interesting period of his life. The book ends with a letter to his family scanned onto the back page announcing his death from a bullet wound to the back when trying to escape the prisoner of war camp. I felt a tear in my eye the first time I read it. It was stained a peach colour with fancy writing and mentioned the incident including the military’s sorrow for the loss of a unit.
I had read seventeen pages and I could feel myself starting to drift off. I would find myself reading the same sentence about three times before I realised that I was doing it. I placed the book down under my head after flicking the corner of the page to mark my progress. I lay may head onto the rough cover and closed my eyes, sleeping until the morning.
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Author's Note
First Fanfic EVAR! Please give constructive criticism if needed and no flame wars in the comments please. Enjoy the story.
<3 MetricOnion
Chapter 1
I was a pony with the attitude of ‘get stuff done’. I liked being practical where I could but I didn’t think that I was anything special; nothing close to front page fame. I was an average filly, same height as everypony and same ability. But the difference was that I hadn’t got my cutie mark. Everypony in my class had one; I was always called a blank-flank for my lack of a mark. Oh the humiliation of my younger years. Even so, what they lacked was general mental capacity. I was smart for my age and did well in my tests, the typical star student who was always talked about behind my back.
I had spoken English and German fluently by the age of six. My mother had been to a place called England many times before and taught me how to speak the language. But I lived far away from the well-known places like Equestria. I lived in a country called Germany or ‘Deutschland’ if you will. Only, we were living in very difficult times. Word came out that we were at war with some other country called Hoofsia. They had things called Nuclear Bombs. We were taught in school of the dangers of these weapons and what to do if one ever found themselves under attack from any of them, but I quickly deduced that if one ever struck, I was fucked.
Anyway, it was when I was thirteen that my life was forever altered. I was walking home after school, through the many streets of Flankfurt, and spotted a bunch of unconnected cables, sparking and flailing around like the arms of a deranged squid. They were frayed and spread across the pavement. I saw them and instantly thought how great an opportunity this would be for practice, though my other motive was that it could hurt somepony, and I certainly couldn’t be having that on my conscience.
Everything seemed to stop. My vision blurred as I saw my hoof had touched a high voltage cable. I then was shocked backwards and my vision had become darkness. I felt a surge of pain circulate my body, followed by burning and stinging, then nothing. I had hardly let out a scream.
I woke up on a hospital bed. As the light glared into my hazy eyes I winced and tried to turn my head to the side. It was met by pain, and then the soft feel of a hoof against my cheek. I liked the feeling, so I stayed in that position. The pain was starting to ease off and as it did so, I regained my vision and general ability to possess various senses.
When I looked to try and see my family standing by my bed, I did not see them. It was in fact, a young unicorn. He stood with a reassuring smile. I didn’t even know his name but yet I still felt a strange feeling of attraction towards him in almost a brother/sister sensation. I tried to speak but all that emerged from my mouth was a quiet groan. He laughed quietly and stroked my messy mane. I desperately wanted to ask what his name was, this colt that was standing by me.
When I was finally able to create legible words, I asked what I had been wishing to say for what seemed an age. “What is your name?”
While in hospital, I thought a lot in my white clad bed, about questions like, ‘why haven’t my family come to see me?’ or, ‘why do all the nurses look so tired?’ and most recently, ‘where in the hoof is that terrible draft coming from?’ I pondered these questions silently while I sat alone in the room that smelled like antiseptic. Osiridium would see me every day of the week; I had changed my view of him and was proud to call him a friend now that I knew him better. He would tell me stories of his experiments in chemistry and how he had been quite handy when he was working. But as the days went by and there was no sign of any doctor or nurse, I started to get very suspicious. Something was tipping me off that something had happened and I was being kept from the truth. Osiridium was progressively getting more nervous with every visit.
After many attempts to right myself and find my centre of gravity once more, I completed my task and tried walking. It was tough at first as each step was met by creaks and joint pains in my legs, causing me to stumble around a bit. But after walking out of the room, I paced down a corridor which was unlit; surprising for a hospital. And as I wandered around the many maze-like corridors, I noticed that there was absolutely no pony there. How peculiar.
When I reached a window, the sight was almost too much to bear. Houses, towers and schools, reduced completely to rubble. Just centimetres off the ground stood a slight haze; what had caused this? Was there some sort of invasion, leaving the city in ruins that I had not been aware of, or was it something bigger. I thought for only a second, and then a bomb dropped with a dull ‘boom’, leaving the signature mushroom shaped cloud, which I only knew belonged to one thing; the Nuclear Bomb.
***
‘What a bloody nightmare’ I thought to myself as I snuck around the backstreets of the ruined city. Everything was hectic, police stood around the fenced off area, keeping the media away, well, what was left of the media: a few ponies with notepads and a mare with no hair who asked questions. I had had to sneakily walk around dark alleyways, sticking to the darkest parts. At least the cloud cover had meant that the moon was unable to illuminate me, revealing my position and getting me arrested for the possession of a Balisong knife and a loaded, heavy firearm.
Just my luck that this place had law enforcement, I had to break my friend out of prison, as a way of repaying him for helping me eight years prior. The police here were too judgemental. From what I had heard they locked up Osiridium for being near the scene of a murder. It had also been said that he was in possession of stolen items; I wasn’t sure what that was about. Anyway, I ended up at the back of the prison unscathed. Now that I was there, I had to find a way in. There were no windows on the wall; nor were there doors or any other methods of entrance. Well, that sucked. I had to go in through the front (just typical that that would happen). Then I had to sneak past all the guards and other prisoners without raising any alarms which shouldn’t be too difficult considering my practice of stealth. I had to remain a small target while I rounded the corners to the entrance of the jail. The doors were made of glass, though they were smashed or damaged. A white stallion was sitting at the reception desk and twirled a pencil in the air with his magic; his horn was surrounded by a bright blue aura. I hopped quickly through the glass door and slunk behind a plant pot. The pony at the desk looked up to see what had made the noise but did not see anything. I used this to my advantage, to hop silently behind him. His keys were in plain sight, a row of stainless steel blocks with numbers signifying cell numbers. I used my horn to grab the keys and create a spell to freeze the keys in place on the ring.
After managing to sneak through the main area, I snuck into a corridor. This was where the entire atmosphere changed. Hundreds of cells, all lined up in rows, many contain ponies. As soon as I walked in with the keys, every single prisoner reached their hooves out and shouted at me to open their doors. I panicked as I knew the receptionist would hear and find me. I ran forward, checking everywhere to find Osiridium.
I eventually found him in a cell at the back of the corridor. He was sat on the sheet-less bed and was looking at the ground.
We rounded a building corner to come to an empty square in the town. No-pony was present so we stood upright and started to walk normally. I looked at Osiridium’s cutie mark, situated on his flank. I recalled that he had earned it at the age of eleven. It depicted a clear conical flask with some sort of blue liquid contained in it. I had no idea what the blue substance was; I never really got into chemistry, or any other science apart from physics, mainly because it contained the electronic circuits topic. Anyway, I stopped staring at Osiridium’s flank and set my attention to mine; 21 and still a blank flank. 21! And still a fucking blank flank.
As the houses began to thin, we realised how far we’d walked. From the centre to the outskirts took us a few hours; that was quite a large town in my opinion, more like a small city. The last few houses were in sight soon though, and the sensation of freedom and the light breeze on my back made me feel fantastic. I was almost through with this place.
We walked into the wasteland casually, as the conundrums of the night before were beginning to vacate our recent memories. When in the dangerous environment of the wasteland, one must only dwell on the most significant things. As to replicate this, in the back of my mind, I had the memory of the mysterious figure silhouetted in the flickering glow of a faulty street light. My heart rate was average, my breath was slowed and I was overall intact, and that was what mattered most. The only problem I found was the feeling of fatigue seeing as I had been awake all night and the adrenaline rush of escaping the city unscathed was dissipating, and I knew that Osiridium was experiencing a similar feeling; also, having a heavy rifle (an ‘L115 A3’ that I stole from a military barracks) was not helping my situation, being cumbersome and uncomfortable on my back. But having been in a hellhole for eight years of my life allowed me to adapt and forget the insignificant details of my life.
The wasteland can do horrible things to a pony’s thought processes: how they act and how well their brain works. It is a vicious and relentless place of despair and misfortune, the home of all sorrow. I knew ponies that had killed themselves soon after realising their fate. It was disturbing to see, knowing that I shared their pain. Sometimes I felt completely empty inside, a sadness that was hard to forget, following the loss of my home, friends and family.
I was suddenly brought to my senses by Osiridium, who stopped my daydreaming abruptly.
We started walking only seconds later, making good progress. We chatted for a while but inevitably fell into an awkward silence. After two hours, we had made about 5 miles. The sun was at its midpoint in the sky and was beginning to burn us with its UV magic. There are hardly ever any clouds any more as most of the weather ponies died in the war or the bombings. Occasionally we saw a sliver of cloud but it was usually because of natural processes. We never really had many weather ponies in Germany. Most of the time the weather took care of itself and we did nothing about it, braving the wind and the rain.
He went into silence at that, his pupils dilated in anticipation of the thorough searching of property that was most likely about to ensue. After worrying for a few seconds, he dropped his head to look for any sign of life. He had great eyesight, which made him perfect for spotting, though he couldn’t look for ponies and other random shit at one time. I had to find the useful stuff.
That was the last thing I remembered before blacking out. I woke up with a barrel aimed at my temple and a knife to my throat and a thumping headache. I saw blood dribbling down my eyelids. Even so, memories came back to me gradually. I saw my sniper rifle and balisong knife leaning against the wall. I felt sweaty and nervous, wondering if this was to be my final day. Was I going to die and never see the end of this terrible and torturous time? I had no idea who was holding me hostage, but whoever it was, I had the impression that they were not going to be willing to set me free on request. I was going to have to use my wits to get out of this predicament. Trying to speak was a mistake; my mouth was filled with a cloth covered in some liquid substance of which I had no idea of its origin. It tasted bitter and inhalation made me feel drowsy. My eyes fluttered as I fought not to fall asleep. My instincts said that my captors were not happy with me falling asleep during their moment of triumph after managing to capture me. All four of my hooves were tied together with a rope that felt as uncomfortable as razor wire. After calming my senses, I began to assess my chances of escape:
BANG!
I screamed so loudly through my gag that I could have deafened people intercontinentally. My ears were ringing, almost making me think that I was dead. But I opened my eyes, and saw that there was no gun barrel to my head, and there was no knife to my throat. In fact, the knife lay placidly in my lap. I gasped for air but the first shot was followed by a second. At this point my head had flopped down with my chin on my chest. There were no more following shots. I groaned in pain as my eardrums pounded and blood dribbled down the side of my face. I honestly thought that I was the one who had been shot. A few small tears forced their way out of my eyes, dropping to the floor.
Soon I felt somepony touch my shoulder. I think they shouted into my ear but no sound was being received. The pony then walked to the other ear and attempted to communicate; nothing. I felt my gag being untied from the back of my head and it soon slipped down to rest upon the knife that still lay across my legs. I took a gulp of air just before I started a coughing fit. Phlegm was ejected from my mouth after each throat burning cough. Saliva drooled out of my mouth and piled up at my hooves to wet the decaying wooden floor. As soon as my hooves had been untied, I knelt down and clutched my skull. The blood was still coming from my ears and stained my orange fur a bright, sickly red. My entire head hurt but the experience was worsened when I opened my eyes and noticed that Osiridium was the one that had freed me, but he had a massive and bloody cut down diagonally across his chest. It was so deep that I was able to see his ribcage and intestines.
As Osiridium fought to hold his organs inside his body, he attempted to communicate with me. He took the knife that had fallen onto the floor when I knelt down and cut a message into the floor. The letters were very jagged and were dabbed with blood but the message was readable and forceful. It said, “GET OUT”. I shook my hoof to show that I had acknowledged the message and crawled my way to the door where I twisted the doorknob. Throwing the door open, I looked back to see Osiridium aiming a pistol out of the rear window. I then proceeded to leave the room, shutting the door behind me. After a struggle to stand up, I walked down the stairs that appeared outside the room that I had previously inhabited. The stairs led to a long corridor with lockers on either side including classrooms at regular intervals. There were cracked floor tiles and some of the polystyrene roof plates had split as they had fallen. The spectacle gave an unnerving sense of Déjà vu. I stumbled around knocking into lockers and walk into a glass door making it smash. I fell through onto the dull and cold concrete sprinkled with shards of reddened glass. I crawled away before standing and running out of the gate that stood to my right. The courtyard was exactly as I remembered it, boring and samey; and as I staggered into the poisonous breeze of the wasteland, I collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily, trying my best not to pass out. Waiting for my companion to emerge was like hell and who knew that hell could get worse. About two minutes in waiting I saw gunshots in the windows and the sound of bodies slamming to the ground. My instinct told me that the shooter was none other than Osiridium but my paranoia was saying otherwise. As I silently contemplated this over my ringing ears, I completely missed what was happening right in front of me. Suddenly, I felt a presence, something eerie that makes the fur on the back of the neck stand on end. I looked up and saw somepony standing no further than three metres from my head. He wore a menacing yet disturbingly relaxed grin and boasted a grey saddlebag and out of the side was what looked like the butt of an assault rifle. It was a metallic silver colour with small patches of dirt and a small blood splatter. His eyes were a bright red and his fur a luminescent green contrasting well with the black scruffy mane and a cutie mark that sent shivers down my spine and bad memories into my head. It was in the shape of bomb with a chemical hazard symbol clearly visible in the centre. As I observed his features, he chuckled quietly. As he did, he revealed a rack of teeth as sharp as spears that were made even worse due to the sickening yellow tint that they possessed. He took one step in my direction, followed by another, soon proceeding to circle around me. The stallion observed every part of my back. Once finished he walked closer until he was literally right next to me. Tucking his hoof under my body, he reached back and kicked me over onto my back, taking the breath from my lungs. I coughed as he continued to examine every curve of my physical structure. Taking a wild guess, he was probably looking for any weaknesses that I may possess. Suddenly realising that I could hear, I rubbed my ears to clean them and must have looked like a dumb zoo animal.
As soon as these words left my mouth he pounced and gnashed his teeth in front of my face. I held him back with my front hooves. I took a painful right hook to the face which made me drop my hooves. The stallion fell to land with his head on my tummy. I rolled out of the way quickly and reached around for my balisong knife. The thought didn’t hit me that I had left the knife in the room that I was captured in. I cursed and staggered to a standing position. I felt a hoof grab my back leg and sharp teeth sink into my limb. The pain was phenomenal and made greater when I ripped away my leg leaving deep, pulsating gashes running from the top of my thigh to my hoof. Blood spat out of it, staining my leg fur and the grey dirt. The stallion leapt again and wrapped his front legs about my neck pressurising my windpipe. I groped at his hooves in an attempt to try and prevent my asphyxiation. Panic was beginning to set in, my back legs kicked about and my tail flicked against the back of my legs. I saw my vision blur in addition to a lethargic feeling that began to flow about my blood. My strength was waning as well as my consciousness. I heard a muffled shout in my right ear that reverberated about in my head. The feeling of death’s hooves on my shoulders was lifted and I slumped down on my back. Turning towards the direction of the scream, I saw the dreadful sight of a green stallion lying with a fuzzy silvery coloured item protruding from what looked like his stomach.
The future couple of hours were a mystery. I had blacked out soon after being released, mainly from shock and suffocation. I awoke in a tunnel; it was made of burgundy brickwork and a cold, dank feeling that pooled around my hooves. I caught sight of a glint of light, it looked quite far away. I started walking towards it. It was then I noticed that I couldn’t hear anything nor smell anything. I started to feel nauseous, causing me to have to lean against the wall. Out of curiosity I turned to see what was behind me, and what I did see was a large expanse of darkness. A rush of air flew past me, brushing my hair down the corridor. The wind stopped, leaving me shivering, it was the kind of wind that got in your bones and left you cold for a while. A quizzical look came over my face as I found myself bewildered about the whole situation.
I decided to turn back and continue walking toward the light. It hardly seemed to get closer. By about five minutes, I felt a wave of exhaustion. My head drooped and I collapsed on the floor, followed instantly by a falling sensation. I opened my eyes and saw a fireball, as big as a mountain, and I was falling into it. It felt like I was being wafted by paper as the flames curled about my body. There was no heat and no pain, although I did feel quite terrified about the whole ordeal. Plunging down, I looked around me and realised my horrible error. All around me were dead bodies. I felt a tear prick in the side of my eye. I pointed my head forward, screaming at the images brought before me. The dead and burning faces of my parents remained emotionless. A few tears came out of my eyes and flew upwards when I saw my brother and sister falling by the sides of my parents.
