Rainbow's Redemption

Rainbow's Diary, Page 4

You know, I almost felt happy. But only for a moment.

That small smudge of color, that smudge of happiness, almost sent a shiver of happiness down my spine.

But only for a moment.

I must pursue it.

As I ran down the block, I took a survey of the territory.

The city block was just like a generic one, except for the barber shop in the corner. Under an apartment block, it's shattered front window must have once housed fancy manaquinns sporting in-style haircuts, and a barber pole must have advertised it's serviced. However, everything in the city of any value whatsoever had been looted long time ago. I swear, every window in this city is shattered.

I don't know why I am pursuing the flash of color. Besides the fact that the entire city was gray and it was orange, I'm not even sure how I noticed it.

I continued back down the block. It was getting dark, and I could continue the chase tommorrow.

Besides, nothing leaves Manehattan.

It was getting very dark , and very quickly. I decided to fly.

I spread out my sore wings, the feeling of relief sweeping through my muscles as the lactic acid left them. I had kept them in for quite a while.

This was the only reason I am alive, actually. Covered in a perpetual gray ash,  it is hard to see my wings anyway, and especially not when I purposefully disguise them. The reason everypony avoided me was because they though I was an earth pony, tough enough to survive the Gang Wars.

I might as well be.

As I took to the air, the familiar adrenaline high began to take hold, forcing me to spread my wings and fly faster. This wan't a problem, as I usually left my underside free of the ash, so that my blue coat blended with the (somewhat) blue sky. Even though I was feared, a pegasus flying alone was an easy target for the snipers on the top floors of the ruined skyscrapers.

Long ago, I would have had trouble at this hieght, because of the skyscrapers. But now that it was all reduced to rubble, I could fly free. The city below me was gray, as usual. For some reason, I had been expecting a change from the usual lineup of looted, raided, and burnt-out buildings.

I landed in my home. The highest skyscraper in this part of the city, it was not fully constructed by the time of the nuclear detonation,  so I had a nice, open area to sleep in, but it also kept me hidden among the I-beams from sniper pegasi  and the like. I hd also constructed a two-by-four runway for my landings, which was going to fall any time now. I walked into the center of the unfinished penthouse,  looking at my array of measly supplies, and decided that i was officially the biggest packrat in this side of Manehattan.

Although I don't have much need for most of it, I find the need to loot everything I find, from half-used rolls of toilet paper, to old snapped-off hammers from pre-war revolvers. I pretty much had a repair shop going.

I walked over to my 'armory", which consisted of one Uzi-syle gun with no ammo, and a Colt (get it? Colt!) .45 and a .44 magnum, for each of which I had maybe one load of ammo.

Great! I could take on two gangsters.

I went to sleep standing, which is not that hard for ponies living here.

Time to move out.

I looked over my weapons collection, and strapped the .45 to my flank, stowing the magnum in my saddlebags. I was never much of a shot anyways, but, be prepared, right? Along with these,Ii took a single canteen of water, and some misc. metal shanks. Knowing me, I would let loose all of my bullets before I hit once. I walked to the makeshift runway, and looked over the edge, surveying with an antique telescope. I saw the flash of orange again, maybe 4, 5 blocks away, behind a wooden barricade. It was too far to take the shot, even if I wanted to.

I prepared, my muscles tensing, my wings spreading to thier full length. The flash was on the move again. I gritted my teeth. I had a nervous habit of doing this, and my teeth ware almost nubs by now.

I paused for a moment.

And jumped.

Only a moment after I took the leap, I realized that it was a mistake. As I spread my wings and slowed down, I saw two moving shapes toward the west side of the block.

I hadn't done a evasive manuever for so long, I almost forgot how to do it. But a flyer never forgets.

Facing directly down, I angled my wings just slightly forward, slamming myself into the building, and fanned them, keeping me pressed to it. I foud a legde, and stayed there, facing downward and holding on. like some circus pony doing tricks for a paying crowd.

I listened.

The gangster ponies were casually chattting, too deep in conversation to notice me. One was a female unicorn, sort of minty green (at this, a memory came, but faded away) levitating in front of him a powerful looking rifle, and the other, a male with a metallic golden pelt, who levitated a wooden spear, but, for some reason, had many small brass shells strapped to him.

"Shouldn't she be in that penthouse up there?" Said the male.

Shit.

"Maybe we went the wrong way. These maps aren't that accurate."

They had maps now?! Buck.

But I wanted that rifle. And those shells looked like they'd fit my Uzi.

Do it.

Great. SHE'S back now. I though I was rid of her for a while! What next?!

Although at this point, I did little to argue. One of the gangsters turned his head, and silently as, well, nothing, I dropped down like a feather on my wings, landing behind a ruined carriage. I crouched next to it.

Well, no point wasting ammo. I drew out a shank, this one an old hatchet. Besides, everypony in the city would hear if I fired the high-caliber pistol. I waited for them to pass.

NOW

I just ignored it, until they passed the carriage .Then, quiet as an eel, I flew behind them, slowly, inches from the ground.

I contemplated what I was about to do. Technically, it doesn't break my deal, but it still isn't exactly an "act of kindness. Niether is it an easy feat.

Oh well.

When I was a good two inches behind the melee pony, my hoof struck the ground, making a cracking noise. The melee pony whirled around, screaming like a banshee.

The spear he was levitating flew through the air towards my head, and I deftly dodged it by jumping upwards, using my wings for extra thrust, and in doing so, kicked up about a ton if dust from the street, obscuring everything. I then snapped my wings in, and as I was falling, hurled the hatchet from my mouth.

The unicorn never had a chance. The hatchet split his skull clean open, magical energy spewing out in a shockwave. Had my wings been out, I would have been carried across the block on a tidal wave of force.

By now, the rifle uncorn wheeled around, her high-power rifle pointing straight at my head. I saw it was silenced.

Even through the mist, I saw her cutie mark was a sniper scope.

Just as she fired at where my head would've been, I dropped to the ground, flattening myself on all fours, underneath the cover of the dust. The unicorn started firing blindly, the high powered shots whizzing over my body, missing me by mere hoove's lengths. I could actually feel the heat.

The sniper rifle clicked out of ammo. Realizing this, the pony jumped on top of me, flipped me over, and began beating on my chest with her hooves, the powerful strikes sending whockwaves through my body, maybe even breaking a few ribs. contents spewed out of my saddlebags. I was ready to give up.

Then I saw a glint of metal.

The revolver!

Giving one last desperate shove moved the unicorn off of me for a split second, allowing me to grab it with my mouth, and place it against her head, cocking it.

There was no hesitation.

The .44 caliber bullet flew through her head, ripping off the top half of her cranium, turning her brain into a liquid mush and splattering against the window of a department store across the street. I had just taken Life.

And I felt no remorse.

I had never shot a gun before this, as I had only been in Manehattan for a few weeks. And I had learned two things about them.

Number one: Guns are bucking LOUD AS HELL!

Number Two: Guns are FUN!

I walked through the splattered blood and brain of the murdered pony, reaching her gun. I inspected it.

It was well maintained and polished, but did not look like it was meant for unicorns. Thier guns are usually simple, for they can be levitated.

However, it did have a circular strap hanging from around it, and an oddly positioned sight. Then it hit me.

This was a pegasus rifle!

Afte flying up to my den, and a couple minutes of fiddling and fuddling, it fit onto me. Two straps held it onto my body, on on my neck and one underbelly strap. The gun's barrel peeked over my shoulder, the sight fitted directly in front of my eye. This way, I could fly freely without having to have a gun in my mouth.

I was busy wallowing in my non-sadness that I didn't hear the voice.