Chapter 1: Everything starts somewhere
Let's start off with my birth... shall we?
I was born on January 3rd, 2037, to a very, very modest couple. When they had me, they weren't even close to ready to have a foal... They knew it, too... I knew it, they knew it. Yet they still showed me more love than anypony could ever imagine... I was drowning in it for the longest time... They even went as far as giving up days where they could eat themselves to feed me, they were that kindhearted... Then again, they're parents. They ought to be kindhearted...
Growing up, I didn't have much of anything... What I could find, I kept, but I never stole from anypony... After 10 years of scavenging, the only "pleasure item" I was able to find was an at the time 4 year old laptop, which kept me company for most of my life... I have absolutely no idea where that laptop is now... I replaced it a few years back, because honestly it just got too slow, and I'd been paid well enough... I can say one thing about it, though—without it, I'd probably have been a whole different pony... Probably wouldn't be a criminal—heh, maybe I'd even have a normal life. Fat chance of that though, and it's in the past anyway. Regardless, it was the only thing I had that I really had fun with in my life as a foal.
Speaking of hacking, that all started when I was 12, of all things. I'd been doing some research on how to code, because I always loved figuring out who everything worked in that tiny little box I had, when I stumbled across a collection of sites on the... "darker" side of the internet. I had no idea what I was doing at the time, so I just soaked up everything I could from there, and put it to use. I think I'd broken into Canterlot's major subnet at least twelve times before I turned 14.
My life was flipped upside down after I turned 15.
On August 16th, 2052, three armed ponies dressed in full black outfits burst into my and my parents' home, grabbing and restraining the three of us. The obvious leader of the group spoke calmly, as though he had no intention of harm, but with a certain evilness that can only be achieved by a trained killer.
"Relax, relax... We don't want to hurt you," he said. The way he stressed want, however, made it clear of their intentions... They were here for us, and not just for a scare.
My mother stuttered. It was clear she was worried, but I feel it wasn't for herself. "W-what... what d-do you w–want?" she asked them.
"Well, ma'am... To put it plainly, we're here for your son," he said.
My parents froze. They knew I had gotten myself into some... darker things, but neither I nor they expected it to come to something like this. "W–why? What has he done?" my father asked, trying to... play it off, I guess.
"Your son's gotten his little snotty-ass snout into shit he isn't supposed to be in, sir," the leader said, getting angrier, "and our bosses don't really 'preciate what he's done. So, to be frank, he's going to pay."
"N–no," my mother began pleading. "You–... You can't. He's only 15, for Celestia's sake. Would–would you dare hurt a foal?"
"I'm being paid more money for this than you could ever dream of," the leader said, tightening his grip on my neck. "I don't care what I have to do to get that money, I'm taking what I can get."
I'd stayed relatively quiet up until this point. Everything going on was just... foreign to me. It was confusing, and I found myself lost, caught up in worry, confusion, and even a tad bit of interest at just how swift and graceful these ponies were at what they were doing—it looked like they'd been doing this for a long time. With a sudden slap back to reality, I realized what these ponies were there to do, and took action—something I now heavily regret—headbutting the leader right in the fucking horsecock.
The leader recovered quickly, surprisingly managing to hold his grip on my neck, even tightening it. "You little shit!" he exclaimed. "You'll fucking pay for that!"
He looked to the others, who were holding my mother and father. "You heard me... I said he'd fucking pay. Now make him pay... Kill them."
Fear struck me as those words exited his mouth, time slowing to a standstill... I looked at them... my mother, my father... knowing this would probably be the last time I ever saw them... My mother looked back at me, tears streaming down her face—she knew what was going to happen, and she accepted it. My father did the same, trying to be strong in his last few moments... The ponies holding them pressed the guns closer in and, without any regrets or emotion, pulled their triggers...
The gunshots... I'll never forget their sound—a loud, deafening bang, accompanied by the sound of metal-on-metal, and the soft pinging of two spent casings falling gracefully to the ground... To this day I can hear it ringing; to this day I can hear the casings bouncing, softly—the haunting sound of the shells of the chunks of metal which changed my life forever.
My parents' bodies collapsed in the ponies' hooves, blood flowing at a steady pace from the newfound holes in their bodies. The ponies who held them released them, their suits being covered in the blood leaking from my parents' corpses. All attention was then turned to me, as the two approached, their guns still drawn, ready to finish this.
The leader of the group smirked at me—an unforgettable, wretched smirk that to this day haunts me—and said, "That didn't have to happen, y'know... We could've taken you and all would've been well for them. But nope! You, kid, had to be a little prick. Look where it got'cha!" The leader cackled, signaling the two to move in, and aim their guns at my chest.
At this point I'm not sure if it was instinct, stupidity, or the adrenaline that took over. In a fit of rage, emotion, fear, and so many other emotions, I lashed out, wrenching the pistol from the leader's hooves. Before the other could react, I'd broken free of the leader's grip, and fired twice into his chest. The others reacted soon enough, raising their pistols to my neck. Unfortunately for them... they were a little late.
For the longest time I just stood there, firing shot after shot after shot into each of the attackers' bodies, finally exhausting the from what I remember 20-round magazine. There I collapsed, in bitter tears... The thoughts racing through my head were just... terrible. The only thing I could think about was death—my parents, the attackers... It all just raced through my head, repeating itself over and over and over... It was like a living hell.
I soon snapped to my senses and realized there was nothing for me there... My parents were dead, the mob was looking for me. What could I do but run..?