“Hey lady!”
I flinched, turning my eyes towards the speaker. There stood a little filly, brown eyes staring at me. Her mane was blonde, and her coat was a bright pink. Like mine. She pointed a hoof at me, or, more specifically, just below the bench I was sitting on. I looked down, and saw her pointing at my hind legs, dangling over the bench as I sat slouched. More specifically, the one prosthetic I had.
“Are you a robot?” she asked, still pointing at my leg. She never stopped looking directly at me. I had heard that phrase before, she had not been the first curious foal to ask. She probably wouldn’t be the last. I shifted my leg, the prosthetic moving noiselessly as it bent down the middle, as it should.
“Why, no silly filly!” I exclaimed, trying to bring back the happy-go-lucky tone I used to be so well known by. That was almost impossible now. War did that to you. Especially when people you know won’t be come back. I swallowed dryly. I didn’t want to think about it. I decided to turn my mind back to the filly. “Do I look like one to you?”
I wore a billowing coat for a reason, though. The scars of shrapnel, bullets, and various poisons made you look worse for wear. Physical scars aren’t as bad as mental.At least a spell forma unicorn could have hidden scars as good as one can hide mental ones. I didn’t want that. It hid memories, not scars. The ones across my back was the reason Minuette had survived that shell. The long one across my side was where the mortar had misfired. Lyra hadn’t been so lucky. Bon Bon still visited her grave. And the one across my stomach... That was the first time Maud had smiled, actually smiled. I guess war also has the good moments, no matter how fleeting. The filly spoke again.
“But Pinkie,” she said, “you are a robot...”
My eye twitched. I was not. I knew that. Minuette is alive thanks to me. I could have let her die. Robots have no compassion. Lyra died because of a mistake. Robots did not make mistakes, and they certainly wouldn’t give or accept forgiveness for one. Maud....Maud died because I did my duty. I could’ve, should’ve, gone and told General Armor. Those tunnels weren’t safe. The dogs knew just the right places to collapse it. Maud was captured and tortured by the diamond dogs because I did not tell the General about my hunch. Was that what cost my sister her life? Did she forgive me, wherever she was in Elysium? Were the thousands of dogs, griffons and minotaurs killed by my hoof worth it?
I’d enlisted to save Equestria. I had passed medical and entrance with flying colors, and was drafted as an artillery-mare. I was good, I used my party cannon a lot, after all. All my friends had joined. They wanted to ply a role. Twilight was great with angles; she once killed a score of griffons by bouncing one magic bolt into a room. Applejack had been amazing with all the siege engines and war machinery, surprisingly. Rarity made a heck of a combat unit, her signature dual sabers having saved my life more than once. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were bombers and medics, diving in to either save a pony, or impale a enemy on a spear. I succeeded in saving my country, but at what cost to my friends and I? Rarity is half blind; a scar the only indication. RD wasn’t the fastest anymore; a wing had been torn in No Mare’s Land. Twilight was still in a coma. Applejack had a permanent limp And I’d lost a leg. So many more... Had I avoided all that pain? My friends had gotten over it so fast. How? How did they?And why was that filly looking at me with no emotion?
“.....A killing machine.”
My mouth twitched into a scowl. I remembered that day.
I’d been sitting in the barracks, when the news hit. I cried. The first time most of my squad-mates had actually see me publicly break down. Losing a sister was hard. Mom asked me to come back; she didn’t want to lose me like sis’ and Pa. But I had to help. A country to serve. And revenge to get. Not a single dog escaped me. I made sure my artillery never stopped firing, never stopped being deadly, and that no dog would EVER escape. I tuned into a monster. How could I have killed so many? Innocents poisoned, soldiers shown no mercy. I turned into one of the most brutal artillery-mares in the Guard. How did she know my name?
“You’re nothing but-”
The filly’s head whipped back as a crossbow bolt entered her eye. Trusty bow. Always had it for emergencies.
“So,” I growled, reloading my crossbow, “You finally found me again, huh?”
Afterwards, I couldn’t bear to come home. How could I explain that I’d killed thousands because I liked it? That I did not laugh anymore Parties aren’t the same without laughter. Maniacal laughter wasn't the same. So I asked Twilight to help me.She said she knew a spell. A spell to remove most of those terrible feelings. I was better after. Didn’t try to think to much about what I’d done, and if no one asked, I got along fine. Life almost returned to normal. I started baking again. I had fun with Pound and Pumpkin. Parties were still my thing as well.
But even those emotions I couldn’t escape.
“Oh, Pinkie.” The filly turned her head back around,an increasingly creepy smile on her face. Her eye was gone. The shell had broken, and I could see the darkness hiding inside. I didn’t want it back. I would keep fighting it.
"We’ll always find you."
