Night had fallen over Ponyville. The buildings had lost their calm, relaxed beige hue and had been replaced with a dark purple, trouble itself was brewing in the walls of every building in town. The populations of the streets were sparse, if existent at all. Nightmare Moon’s lunar disk could be seen, the powdery gray craters glaring down upon the world they’d been forbidden from returning to. There was not a single star that night, a rather odd occurrence. It was as if the heavens themselves had forsaken the world below, for just this night. Distantly, the smallest speck of smoke could be seen over where the floating city of Cloudsdale loomed.
That night, a house had burned down, leaving two in it’s death toll.
The father had smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, his wife was seen once in a blue moon. Their names had been Charcoal Dust, the father, and Flare Daze, the mother. Charcoal had not been the kindest of stallions, and was rumored to have been abusive. However, his family had never supported these claims, nor had they denied them. His job had gone south two months ago, after his first wife had brought charges against him, claiming he was responsible for the loss of many valuable items in their home. Flare Daze was kind enough to see past Charcoal’s past transgressions, but foolishly. Charcoal had been responsible for those crimes, but was never brought to justice of it, in his son’s eyes.
Their son.
Their son had escaped the fire. However, nopony had seen hide nor tail of the young colt.
The fire team had arrived too late. The son had fled the scene, and the couple had perished in the fire. In the eyes of Cloudsdale law, the son had been the one to cause the fire, and thusly causing the death of his parents. Their son had become a fugitive of the law in Cloudsdale, and showed no signs of returning to face justice.
In Ponyville, a lone colt walked in the cover of the shadows. This was an odd sight on it’s own, but the fact that the colt had two open wounds above his left eye, one on his neck, quite close to his jugular, and one on his right wing seemed even more odd. He walked with his eyes closed, but still had a sense of direction, based on his walk. An air of melancholy hung around him, adding furthermore onto the mystery of this young one. His name was Hotshot Vantas, the son of Charcoal Dust and Flare Daze, fugitive of Cloudsdale law.
Hotshot Vantas had always been a very just pony, always believing that the law had the ultimate authority and must be obeyed. This experience had changed him, however. He now was on the wrong side of the code he had followed relentlessly, his name now a stain on his family’s legacy. Nopony back home would even dare acknowledge the young colt anymore. He couldn’t even disguise himself; for he had the coat of his father, which was a dark, charcoal gray. He also inherited his father’s signature blood red eyes, and his mother’s jet black mane with blue highlights.
“So, it’s just you and me, I guess.” He sat down on the street, seemingly talking to himself.
"It’s come to this, has it?” A voice in his head, which he called “Captor”, called.
“Yeah, Captor…we’re running from the very thing that binds us as a society.” Hotshot picked up a small stone and set it on the ground, slowly grinding it into pebble-dust with his front left hoof.
“Vantas, come on. You act like the Cloudsdale Army is coming to search for you. You have no worries with the law in Ponyville.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry!” He quietly wailed. Even though he had said he was too old for it at this point, approaching his 12th birthday, all he needed right now was his mother’s embrace.
“Vantas. Listen to me. Your parents are gone. Nothing you can do about that. The best thing for you to do right now is to check yourself into the Ponyville Orphanage, at least give yourself a place to stay tonight.”.
Hotshot sat there for what could have been mistaken for a millennia, before he rose and started a slow walk to the Ponyville Orphanage. He passed many a pony, including one small orange filly. Her hay-bale colored mane, which was formed into a neat ponytail, held together with a small red band, blew slightly in the breeze as she followed him, just far enough not to seem like she was following.
“Vantas, you seem to have a fanfilly.” Captor called to Hotshot, causing his head to swivel around like a gyroscope.
The young filly was taken slightly aback by his sudden notice, but after he stopped to get a better look at her, she approached him.
“Yer a bit young ta be wanderin’ the streets, ain’t cha?” She stopped a good three steps away from him.
Hotshot gave a small, quiet laugh and nodded. “Yeah, I’m a bit young for this. But what with that little bag you’re carryin’, looks like you’ve got a better place to be than here.”
She took a few more cautious steps toward him. “Ah’m headin’ home after ah decided to come home from Manehattan.” Then she noticed his wounds. “Hey, come with me, ah’m gonna getcha fixed up, y’hear?”
Hotshot stopped almost all thought, everything in his brain had to be rewired to consider; was this a filly he could trust?
“What’s your name, farmfilly?” He decided if she was comfortable telling him her name it was a good enough sign of trust.
“Applejack.” Her response was quick, showing she trusted him, as young foals tend to trust each other rather quickly.
“….Alright, Applejack.” He gave a small nod and started walking towards her. “My name’s Vantas, Hotshot Vantas.”
With the pleasantries out of the way, the duo started their trek to Sweet Apple Acres. There was something about the now rising sun that caused Hotshot to have an inner feeling of reassurance, that everything would turn out alright.
As the sun took it’s position just above the treeline, it illuminated the bath before them, leading to a small farmhouse where Applejack took off running. She ran to what was presumably her family, an older red colt greeting her with a hearty “Eeyup!” as an elderly green mare gave her a welcoming hug.
Family.
The word resonated quite deep with Hotshot, this was a new experience for him. He had no siblings, and his father rarely ever acknowledged his existence, let alone say something like “I love you.”
Hotshot slowly approached the three, Applejack telling her (presumably) grandmother that the wounded pegasus was with her.
Before anypony could even do anything Hotshot and the red colt were face to face, the ladder being a small bit taller.
“…keep yer hooves offa mah sister, y’hear?” It didn’t sound like a threat, it was intended to be the end-all, be-all.
“Don’t worry, wasn’t planning on it.” Hotshot gave a small smirk.
“Yes you were.” Captor poked.
“Shut up.” Hotshot thought.
“Well, it’s not like I can’t tell from your body language. Which means he can too.”
“Captor. Shut your brain-mouth.”
“Hotshot, will ya come with me?” Applejack motioned towards the farmhouse.
After Hotshot broke eye contact with the stallion, he attempted to fly towards the filly, only to be met with a searing pain as he collapsed to the ground.
“For the tenth time, Hotshot…your wing is broken!”
He stood and just kept shakily walking towards her, a small teeter in his walk. The small smushing of the dirt under his hooves gave him a slight bit of reassurance, that way he’d have something to fall back on, should he be unable to reach her.
As the steps between the two shortened, Hotshot’s strength did as well. It wasn’t very long until he was barely standing, the loss of blood finally setting in.
“Hotshot…” All the voices he heard were just blurs…he couldn’t tell anymore who was who.
He took one more step…and collapsed, the dirt providing a small cushion for landing, but still some pain.
“So this is it…how I die.” He thought. The world started to dim around him, he was losing consciousness.
“Not yet, Hotshot Vantas…there’s more to your story.” As he closed his eyes, he was unable to tell…was that the voice of a deity, or just a regular one?
“There’s more Hotshot Vantas…his story does not end here."
