Wings Of Warby chief maximusChapters':03'':02'':01'':03'WINGS OF WAR By: Bronius Maximus Edited by: FanNotANerd ':03' "The cherry trees are lovely in Stalliongrad this time of year. Would you agree?" "Yes, the blossoms are a bright red." "Excellent. The wolf howled alone on the plains." "I heard his cry." With that, I hung up the phone. Everything was ready to go. They had been waiting for years for somepony like me to come along. A war hero, ex-captain of the Wonderbolts. I couldn't blame them. The bottle of whiskey I bought was already halfway gone. Guess I was thirstier than I thought. I fumbled around on the nightstand for the dirty shot glass I'd been using all night, knocking some junk on the floor as I went. Not like it mattered, this apartment was a one room shit-hole. Some crummy building in Manehattan, run by the same dirty griffons as it probably had been for generations. The T.V. barely picked up cable, and the bathroom stank regardless of weather it had been used or not. 'How the mighty have fallen,' I lamented, throwing back another mouthful of fiery booze before putting my head back on the pillow. It was already midnight. The only reason I'm still awake is because I was waiting on that phone call. No reason to stay up any longer, except to stave off the dreams. I haven't gotten a solid night's sleep in ten years. I was young, and dumb. I had no idea what I was signing up for. Neither did the rest of my buddies. We were just colts, wanting to see the world, maybe kill a few zebra out there in the jungles of southeast Shetland. Why? Couldn't tell ya. The same reason any young colt leaves his mother to serve his princess I suppose. A sense of duty maybe? Perhaps the age old invincible attitude of youth. Our job was simple. Luna had the natives on her side, we had to take them out. The official story was she wanted nighttime, all the time. But anypony who believed that was either an idiot, or gullible. Or both. The ceiling fan went around above my head as I felt a calm buzz finally overtake me. Half a bottle of high octane alcohol, and all I got was a buzz. No wonder I live here. Wasn't always like this though. I had money, fame, all the mares I could want, any time I wanted them. Even had a fling with Spitfire once or twice after a show. My work kept my mind off my service for the most part. The constant public appearances and just being around other ponies was enough to let me sweep a lot of the memories under the rug. Once I retired, I couldn't keep them in check anymore. It used to just happen once a month, then twice, then three times. Each time I slept, the dreams felt more real, more vivid than the one before it. I started to drink again not long after. In about a year I was having nightmares every night. You get used to them eventually, but even if it's the same one a few nights in a row, new details emerge you hadn't noticed before. Those were the most haunting. It may be just an expression on a squad member's face, or it could be the dying gasp of a colt no older than myself crying for his mother among the thick smoke of the burning villages before a zebra silenced him with a blade across the throat. I never thought I would end up this way. Unable to feel even the slightest emotion unless I've been drinking. A lot of innocent young colts bones still rest out there, their memories, hopes, dreams and fears lost to the specter of death like so many tears in a rainstorm. The royals never set hoof in that part of the world. They never saw what they ordered us to do; they didn't see the stacks of dead zebra burning in the fields to send a clear message to those who dared support Luna's rebellion. They never had the acrid stench of burning flesh and hair fill their nostrils while they dragged more corpses away to be burned. I left a part of myself back there in that distant, lush hellhole. A part I know the jungle has claimed, and I know I'll never get back. It's okay though. The day after tomorrow, all that won't matter. I've often thought of those I lost during the war with a tinge of jealousy. After all, the dead have their peace. They aren't tortured night after night by what they did, what they saw. 'Move on' Spitfire told me, as if seeing your friends die in front of you and taking your anger out on some unlucky zebras bleeding face as he prayed to whatever god his kind respected for me to just kill him was something you could just 'move on' from. This cart I pull has a broken wheel. It can't go forward, it can't go back, and I'm stuck right here with it. Eyelids are getting heavier now, I know Shetland won't be too far off. At a certain point, even when you come to expect it, nothing really prepares you to see the faces of old friends long gone as you relive their final moments time and again. The booze helps take the edge off. When I was a foal, I dreamt of the sky, and the magic of flight, like most pegasi colts. Now all I see when I close my eyes is the hell that awaited me on the ground. The muddy, blood stained ground. I was ready. I found myself behind our medic Cotton. Walking in a silent line through the jungle, we made our way deep into the heart of Zebra territory. I was part of a special unit, the 'Silent Service' they called us. Our orders came straight from the top, Celestia herself, though none of us had ever met her. We were just grunts, not top brass. Our jackets camouflaged well with the foliage as did our face and body paint. All we had were blades on the ends of our legs, hence the 'silent' part of our nickname. There was a tripwire two paces ahead. Step over it, just like always. I knew this dream well. Nopony I knew died in this one. When I first began having the dreams, and recognizing I was in them, I tried to change them, to do something different than I had done in actuality, but I couldn't. I was just along for the hellish ride. The Zebra may have been primitive to us, but they adapted quickly to our tactics. They learned our paths, set ambushes, and laid traps. They certainly weren't the savages we had been led to believe in basic. The jungle thinned as we neared a village in the distance, about 700 feet from our position in the edge of the forest. High command suspected this village to be hiding weapons and guerrilla fighters in their homes. Were they really? Who knows? It wasn't our job to question orders, only to follow them. And follow them we did. "Firebase alpha foxtrot, sierra sierra, target village coordinates are 30" 27' west and 24" 17' north. Ready the strike package on our mark," I said as our dragon squad mate Static quickly wrote my words onto a scroll and blew it toward it's distant recipient. Within seconds, Static coughed up our reply. "Coordinates confirmed sierra sierra, firing for effect. Airstrike inbound in three-zero seconds." The unicorn fire crews would soon start using their magic to lob shells at our coordinates, they distant whistle of the crude bombs grew in intensity as they sailed through the sky. Here it comes. The villagers had no idea what was coming. They never did. The whistling of ordinance falling from the sky drifted towards our position. The first shell landed right on top of a flimsy straw hut, a soft rumble shaking beneath our hooves with every impact. Needless to say, it shattered into a thousand pieces, a red mist intermingling with the flying straw. The screams began almost immediately as the villagers gathered their children, wives and other loved ones and retreated into their huts. It didn't matter though. Hut's weren't going to protect them from Celestia's fire. The Strategic Air Command pegasi were well on their way, and that shit would burn the entire village to the ground. A hellish mixture of water and fire, said to be synthesized by the princess herself. If any got on you, it would be a lot less painful to just amputate the limb than try to get it off. It burned right down to the bone, and out the other side. I saw the smoke trail coming over the horizon as the bombardment relented. "Here comes the fun part!" Static added. At the time, I couldn't deny I was curious to see the effects of Celestia's fire first hoof. The smoke trails of the fighter pegasi grew over the horizon. A quick flight at treetop level over the village with perfect timing would release hell upon those suspected of supporting the opposition. The fire was like an ocean wave of death, its undulating crest setting ablaze anything or anypony unfortunate enough to be in it's path. The noise was something unique; something I've never heard replicated anywhere else. A soft rush followed by screams creating an orchestra of hellish sounds conducted by Death himself. Within seconds, the entire village was burning. Thick black smoke rose high into the air as the second wave ripped through the sky and unloaded more death upon the simple villagers, whose biggest concern yesterday was how many fish they were going to catch, or how much game they would need to kill for dinner. Here comes the worst part. I see her every time. No matter how hard I try, I can't look away. A zebra filly, no more than nine or ten, running towards our position screaming in fear. I can make out tears streaming down her face. I know she can't see us, but still, the terror in her eyes burns into my soul each and every time as the last Celestia's fire bomb drops, engulfing her in flames, silencing her screams for her mother and father forever. There's a pounding at the door. My head is killing me, but what else is new? 'Who in the hell...' I thought dragging myself out of bed and glancing at the clock. '10:35' 'Right...That Twilight filly was coming today.' ':02'Wings Of War ':02' I dragged myself out of bed and unlocked the door before walking back towards the table, where my whiskey from the night before beckoned. Still had a third of a bottle left. Not bad. I heard the door open behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to acknowledge the early twenties unicorn mare as she pushed her way through. "Thanks for the help." Sarcasm. Something she was getting fairly good at. She had been coming by for weeks now, though I never understood why she wanted to come here instead of someplace that wasn't this filthy hovel I called home. She said she wanted me to be comfortable or some such nonsense. Apparently Celestia wanted the war stories of old stallions like me documented, but for what purpose I didn't know. The truth behind what happened on battlefields across Equestria wasn't something you could just write down. Besides that, my truth certainly wouldn't fit the official description of the war. The Celestia-approved version. The noble stallions fighting and dying for their kingdom against the savages of Luna's horde. "Can I get you a drink?" I asked. I may be an old, alcoholic soldier, but I still had some manners. "It's 10:30 in the morning." "Suit yourself." I shrugged. More for me anyway. I took a seat at the dingy table as she sat across from me, quill and scroll at the ready as always. This had been going on once a week, for about an hour or so a day. She was about the only visitor I ever got anymore. I had a family once, but once the money ran out, so did they. Scumbags. Not that I needed them, but still. Being alone for so long with nothing but a head full of memories you'd like nothing more than to forget does things to a stallion. "How have you been sleeping?" I scoffed. She knew how I'd been sleeping, but still she asked me that every time she stopped by. "How do you think?" "Still having nightmares?" I hated this. She knew the answers to every question she asked; yet she asked them anyway. "Yes. The village one this time." She made a quick few scribbles on her scroll before continuing as I took a swig of my drink. "I know I've said this before, but the alcohol isn't helping," she added, eyeballing me as I took another sip. "You aren't my mother. Now, let's get on with it." Trying to describe war to a filly too young to have even been alive during it was like trying to describe color to the blind. It's not something you can just talk about. It's something you had to experience. Still, I tried to put it in laypony's terms for her. After all, I'm sure she didn't choose this job. I had told her of everything (well, most everything. Call it a sense of chivalry or sexism if you will, but there are some things I just can't talk about in front of an innocent filly like her) I had done during the war. I had relived it through my dreams so many times; affixing severed heads to a pike was like splitting apples for a fruit salad to me now. We were near the end of my last tour. Every last one of my squad with the exception of Cotton had been killed at one point or another. Some in midnight ambushes, some during routine patrols. One had his head cut clean off by a strand of razor wire as he sprinted to aid another. That stallion was trying and failing to fight off five or six zebra warriors. The average stallion would probably have gone insane by now. I had no idea why I hadn't. Maybe my time was coming. Maybe they'd find the last member of the fabled Silent Service dead on the floor of some crummy hotel, still clutching his unit insignia in one hoof and a bottle of half empty high proof bourbon in the other. Just like they found Cotton. But they wouldn't. Not if I could help it. After the official interview was over, she would do something I found most annoying. She would stay and visit with me, like we were old friends. I'd be remiss if I said there wasn't a part of me that liked it. No stallion is an island, as they say. "Haven't been getting out much, have you?" Like she had to ask. "No, not really." "You've got princess Celestia's recognition ceremony coming up. Is your uniform ready?" Recognition. For what? For doing what I was told without question like a good little pawn? I didn't need recognition, especially not from her. What about those young colts whose mothers only received a visit from the royal consulate and a M.I.A. card? Who probably wondered to this day whether their little boys were suffering in a prison camp somewhere before being murdered by those zebra bastards? Or those who were fortunate enough to get actual confirmation of their sons death, with a folded flag and a 'sincere' letter of thanks for their sacrifice, signed by Celestia's own rubber stamp? Where's their recognition? I didn't want to upset her, though. "Yeah, it's all set out in the closet." She got up and took a peek as if she owned the place, nearly tripping over the floor safe that came with the apartment. Not like I minded, but still, this generation had a thing or two to learn about manners. "Anything in the safe?" Curiosity killed the cat, my dear. "Nothing but more booze. I keep it in there to keep the maintenance guys from swiping it." There wasn't a drop of alcohol in that thing, but I damn sure wasn't about to tell her what was. She'd know soon enough. I caught her staring at me again. She'd been rather shy in the beginning of our time together, but I guess she had gotten comfortable around me. Every time I'd caught her staring these past few weeks she'd look away, embarrassed. I had honestly never seen a purple unicorn blush before, but I didn't figure it was anything. Then I started to put two and two together. Don't get me wrong; I was flattered to still have that effect on at least one mare, even if it was just a bookworm like her. But I'm almost twice her age. Hell, she could be my daughter. Oh well. That's a young stallion's game. "It's the only thing that keeps me going anymore" I thought I muttered that under my breath. Apparently I didn't. "What?" The concern was pretty obvious now. I should've kept my mouth shut. "Nothing." "Alcohol is the only thing that keeps you going?" Why ask me what I said if you knew the whole time? This filly was getting on my nerves. "Yeah. It is. I'd have off'd myself a while ago if it weren't for this." I didn't care about tact at this point. She wanted to know, so I told her. I took another swig, finishing the glass before reaching for the rest of the bottle. She put her hoof on top of mine and stopped me. Her blush was still there, but her seriousness was apparent in her smoldering glare. "I'd put that hoof back by your side if you want to keep it." I normally wouldn't threaten a filly like that, but this was my lifeblood we're talking about here. She slowly withdrew her hoof in defeat. I wondered why she would do that; why she would care. The defeated look on her face told me she was only trying to help. But why? I was just some grizzled old soldier living out his final days in a Manehattan hovel. Why would a pretty young filly like her concern herself with weather or not I drank myself to death? I poured the rest into my glass and set the empty bottle between us. I studied her expression, still caught up in why she would care. She's never shown anything like this in the preceding weeks. She knew she wouldn't have to visit me after today. Maybe that was why. Maybe she was one of those types that tries to leave something better than the way they found it. If that was the case she was wasting her time. I've been broken for a while. The booze was just a bandage, and those don't last forever. "You don't know what it's like, Twilight. You ever lost any friends?" I was getting serious now. Maybe the booze had a little bit to do with it, but I at least wanted to explain my actions. I felt like I owed her that. She shook her head. "You want to know why I do this?" She nodded slowly. "When you see your best friend's eyes plead for you to intervene as he knows he's about to meet his end, and you don't because you know to give away your position meant more along with yourself would die, to be unable to even look away for fear of rustling against the leaves as the light of life leaves his eyes... and then to relive that on an endless loop over and over again as you fall asleep. Am I wrong? Am I wrong to not have the strength to face that kind of torment without a little help?" I regretted that immediately. I had never been that open with anypony. I cursed myself for letting that out. Maybe I should take it easy on the booze, at least when company is over. Then she surprised me. "My father. He served in the Lunar wars too. I never knew him without a drink to his lips. He drank himself to death, just like you're doing. Forgive me if I'd rather not watch somepony else do it in front of me." There was that sarcasm again, along with a bit of ice for good measure. She was getting good. I could tell letting me know about her father was something particularly hard for her to do. I didn't mean to come off like such a jerk; I just wanted her to get a taste of why I do the things I do. "I'm sorry to hear about your Dad." Her features softened. Looks like she just admitted something she hadn't told anypony else either. "That's one of the reasons I took this assignment. Dad never talked about his time in the service. I wanted to know why... I figured one way to find out would be to interview the few remaining veterans who were there." It all made sense now. Sad, though it was. Growing up with an emotionally distant father can do things to a filly. "When your society is based on kindness, friendship, and helping others, things like war contrast so sharply, that some can't deal with it. The lucky ones block it out until it festers as a mental illness. Others, like me—and your dad, apparently—hide it through liquor. Still, some just can't take it at all. They're the ones who don't make it. The ones like Cotton..." I'd gone and done it again. I threw back the rest of my drink and scolded myself for continuing to talk. Then I saw who she really was. Just a lonely filly who missed her Dad. I stood from the chair and took a seat on the side of my bed, rubbing my eyes with my hooves. My flanks were falling asleep in that stiff chair anyway. "If you're Dad was anything like me, he drank so he could feel. Things like what we did back there... they rob you of your equanity. You can't feel unless you've been drinking. Even then... sometimes that stops working..." What the hell is the matter with me? My mouth is running like a leaky faucet, and I'm just letting it happen. I felt another weight on the mattress beside me. That's not good. I glanced over at her; she was still red as apple skin. I'd seen that look on a mare's face before. This filly has seriously lost it if she thinks I'm going to— Before I knew what happened, her lips were on mine. Needless to say I was a bit surprised. I wondered why she would even consider an old stallion like me. Pity maybe? Perhaps. More likely some unresolved daddy issues. Strangely enough, she didn't seem like the type, as most of those turned into strippers. She was different somehow. She pulled away. If she was red before, she was a strawberry now. "Did you feel that?" This was completely out of left field. I was still trying to make sense of it all before she threw herself on top of me. Instinct took over at this point, and I wasn't about to stop her. Maybe I was the pervert for letting someone half my age get the better of me like this. Maybe she was the one with problems, going after a stallion that could have been her Dad's age. I didn't know, and honestly couldn't care less. If this was what she wanted, I wasn't going to stop her. We stayed in bed until dark, joined at the hips. Even now I had no idea what possessed her to do that, or why she would even find me attractive in the first place. I held her next to me as we laid there in silence. We hadn't said much of anything since all this started. This heart of mine found itself one last centimeter that hadn't been hardened by what I'd done. That spot was hers now, but not for too much longer. She worked for the princess. She'd often gone on about being Celestia's faithful student or something. I had to know whether she would be at the ceremony tomorrow or not. She was a good filly, and didn't deserve what was coming. "Are you going to be at the ceremony tomorrow?" "Mhm, right next to Princess Celestia." My heart sank. I couldn't let her get hurt. She was innocent in all of this. One of the few associated with the royals who were. "I guess I'll have to catch a ride with you." She rubbed her cheek against my chest. It didn't feel like I was her first, but I couldn't imagine her being a stallion's mare. She was a tad clingy too, but she was young. She still had her whole life ahead of her. I got out of bed and walked to the small kitchen area to get us some water. We were both pretty thirsty, but I had a special ingredient for her. I glanced back over at Twilight. She was watching whatever garbage came on the t.v. this late at night. I grabbed a small brown bag from the medicine cabinet. Sleeping powder I had a prescription for, but hadn't used it since I'd started drinking. Hopefully it was still effective. I put two spoonfuls in her glass, watching it dissolve as I brought it over. She took it in her magic and nearly drained the whole glass in one thirsty gulp. 'Atta girl.' That should keep her asleep until well after the ceremony. Consider it my last act of kindness before my time on earth was through. ':01'Wings Of War ':01' I faced the dreams again, without alcohol. I hated doing that. It's okay though, that was the last time I'll ever have to do it. I carefully slid out of bed. Twilight was still out cold. Thankfully that sleep powder still had some kick left in it. I still didn't want to take any chances, so I walked as slowly and softly as possible over to the safe. A quick spin of the dial and it gave up it's contents. A tailored vest with three pockets along the left and right breast, and six on the back. Each one packed with enough explosives to bring down that entire banquet hall if I was lucky. Definitely enough to make sure my primary target wouldn't get away. It was a simple device. The phone call from the night before last was from those who constructed it. Theirs was a political goal, to try and restore Luna's rule, or start a new democratic government, I wasn't really sure. I hadn't cared to listen while they were explaining it. My reason was personal. Celestia made us kill, and be killed in the war against her sister, only to have her banished to the moon, and return as if nothing had ever happened. They even threw a fucking parade when Luna returned from her exile. Truly it was a pointless war, an exercise in futility, pitting one equine against another and for what? Not a damn thing. Everypony was expected to act as though the Lunar wars never happened. Well not me. I won't let them off that easily. The vest had a small glass capsule sewn into the front, containing a liquid primer behind a short fuse. It was positioned behind my ribbons, so all I had to do was activate it by pounding my hoof to my chest as if I were coughing. Then in two or three seconds, it would all be over. I slid it on and made sure it still fit. It was short enough to hide under my formal military jacket. I quickly put on the other parts of of my uniform: beret, ribbons, medals, the whole nine yards. I always figured I would die wearing this. Never thought it would be taking out a tyrant, though. I took one last look at myself in the mirror. I was a young, handsome stallion once. Wonderbolt captain for a while until Spitfire took over. I couldn't say truthfully how many things that war took from me. Nopony really wants to be around you when any little thing could put you back in that life or death mindset. It scared most mares to wake up at 3 am and have to talk the stallion they'd just spent the night with out of believing the zebra were just outside the door, ready to barge in and gut us both. Spitfire was the only one who came close to understanding, but even her patience wore thin after a while. Now I was just a shell of who I once had been. I don't mind anymore though. If my life were a bar, this was last call. I grabbed a flask from the dresser and felt it still had a few swigs left. "One for the road." I drained it and looked back at the sleeping filly in my bed, snoring softly. Her mane was still a mess from the night before, as was her tail. Suddenly, I felt something all too familiar. Guilt. I couldn't just leave her here without any explanation. I grabbed a quill and scroll out of her bag and began writing. 'Twilight, By now I'm sure you know what happened at the ceremony. I can't express in words what made me decide to go through with what I did, but suffice to say that this was the only useful thing I could do with this wasted life of mine. If you were trying to save me last night, I'm sorry. I was planning this long before you came along. I do this so maybe one day in the future you won't have to send your little colt off to war to become the broken shell I have become. You're a good pony, Twilight, and I'm sure your father is proud of what you've become. Before last night, I was in the darkness of my mind completely, but for a few shining hours, you rescued me. So in a sense, you could say you saved me, if only for a moment. Unfortunately, moments fade, and memories last forever. I don't want these memories anymore. What I do now, will seal my legacy as a traitor, a terrorist, or whatever label they'd have me branded with. But I'm glad you got to know who I once was, and who I am now. I'm glad you know the truth. Goodbye Twilight, our time together has been the sole bright spot for me in these, my last few years. SFC Soarin Blazer' I took one last look back at her sleeping peacefully. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel anything, but those who made this vest were expecting results. I was in too deep to back out now. Either I delivered or they'd come here and kill me. Not that I couldn't take a few of them with me, but now that Twilight's involved herself with me, I couldn't bear to have something happen to her on my account. I wedged a couple of bits in the door from the outside, just in case the powder wore off early. This was for the best. A pegasi cab pulled up outside my building. I turned back to my window, expecting to see a pleading unicorn pressed against the glass. Luckily for me and for her, the powder's grip seemed like it would hold for just long enough. I just hoped one day she would understand, I did this to keep her safe. I got on the chariot and it took off on a one way trip toward Canterlot castle. Within minutes, I was outside the gates, the guards saluting me as I passed them. Young colts, foals practically. The same age I had been when I joined up. My heart beat faster, feeling like it alone would set off my vest. The banquet hall was full of dignitaries, royalty, advisors, all manner of ponies who send others off into battle to do their dirty work while they sit back here in Canterlot and drank wine. None of them had ever known the devastation of losing a loved one to war, or a friend. Their kind didn't fight, their kind gave the orders and watched. I was the only veteran in the entire hall, the rest were all press, or members of the royal court's family. Good. The more of those blue blooded scum I take with me, the better. They put me at a table next to the stage where Celestia, Luna and the rest of her cabinet sat. After a few minutes of lip service, they called me up. This was it. My heart was hammering away in my chest as I ascended the staircase toward her. On a cushion behind her was another medal. A useless trinket to remind me of those I'd slain in her name. I plastered a fake smile on my face as she greeted me with hers. I bowed, no reason to cause suspicion yet. She used her magic to lift the medal around my neck. I wasn't expecting it to be as heavy as it was. I looked up at her, she was still smiling. The same smile she held in all the propaganda, all the appearances, and all the public events. "It was an honor to have a valiant soldier like you in my army." I cracked a genuine grin for probably the first time in ten years, seeing all the faces of my fallen brothers reflect in her eyes. This was for them. "No your highness, the honor is all mine." I raised my hoof to set off the fireworks, when a flash blinded me from my right. It took a second to refocus my eyes, but what I saw made me hesitate, and that would be my downfall. "Soarin stop!" I glanced to my right quickly. How did she get here? I knew that powder wouldn't last! "Twilight!" The princess exclaimed, "What is the meaning of this?" Why the hell did she have to show up now? She couldn't have waited five fucking seconds? I should have never left that damn note! I couldn't use the bomb now. Time for plan bravo. Under my sleeve was the blade I had used to snuff out the lives of many an unfortunate soldier who had chosen the wrong side. I found it kind of fitting that it would finally taste the blood of a tyrant, especially the one who forced its grisly job upon it. One quick swipe to the neck, and the guards could stab me all they wanted. My foreleg shot out just like I'd done so many times before, but something stopped my blade. Nothing emotional, or any sentimental reason, something physical, as if a hoof was holding my foreleg in mid air. It was maybe an inch from the glowing white neck that I aimed for; an aura of purple light surrounded it. I struggled to break from its grip, but it was impossible. Fear. Finally, I got to see it across Celestia's face. The same look I had seen on countless friends and enemies as they took their final breaths. Her expression begged an answer to why. Why a seemingly patriotic, loyal subject would try the unthinkable. The look on her face was nearly worth not getting that last inch. Twilight stopped me. I shot a quick glare at her before being taken to the ground. I could hear Celestia going on about why I would do this. I didn't have a lifetime to explain it. I felt two or three pegasi on top of me. You never realize how pointy their armor is until it's being pressed into your back. They gave me a few kicks for good measure while they had me down. I heard the soft crack of the primer. Against my better judgement I smirked. Looked like I'd get my chance to send some of these blood suckers to hell after all. My thoughts immediately turned to Twilight. I caught glimpses of her standing behind the pile the royal guards had formed on top of me. I craned my neck to shout to her. The disbelief on her face was evident, but she had to have known I wouldn't be above this. She listened to and transcribed more than I had ever told anypony. If anypony knew my true motives, it was her. She knew the real me, a smart cookie like her would understand why I did it. "Twilight!" I roared, "Run! Get off the sta-" A swift hoof to the jaw stopped me mid sentence. Please Twilight, just run, or teleport, do something! I didn't mean this for you! Please for the love of heaven just get off the stage! "I'm sorry. I'm not leaving you Soarin." I heard her say over the commotion. Not as sorry as you're going to be! No! Goddammit no! This wasn't meant for her you bastards! They say you see your life flash before your eyes right before you die. I only had maybe two seconds, tops before everything faded to black. Time slowed. I could feel the guards still struggling to subdue me as the crowd gasped and began to panic, realizing I had just attempted to assassinate the princess. Celestia was probably well off the stage by now. I could only hope to wound her if I was lucky. But Twilight... She was still just outside the guards huddled around me. Tears. Why the hell I chose now to cry I can't fathom. I hadn't done it since I enlisted, but seeing the pain on her face must have been the final straw. I could handle severed heads. I could handle disemboweling a sleeping enemy soldier. I couldn't take that look. Made worse by the fact that she still wouldn't get off the fucking stage. I'm sorry Twilight. I'm sorry you had to involve yourself with me. I never wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have ever dreamt of it. Why did you have to care? Why didn't you just finish your assignment and move on? Why didn't you just forget about me like everypony else in this world had? That caring heart of hers. I told her it would get her in trouble one day. I can't help but think of everything I'm taking from her. Her chance to meet the stallion of her dreams, her chance to know the pride of being a mother. Her chance to watch her foal grow into a pony and find a love of their own. Her chance to see her grandchildren grow up as she grows old with the love of her life. Her chance to die peacefully surrounded by her friends and family. No, instead she would die on this stage, with me. A broken old stallion with nothing left to lose. I'm so sorry Twilight. Maybe they'll honor you the way they planned on honoring me. Maybe you'll get a library named after you. After all, you were her 'faithful student'. I hate myself for doing this to her. In the one second I have left, I can't help but think how unfair it is; that I'm the only one who knows I'm about to die and take half this stage with me. I'm getting my final thoughts, but these guards...and Twilight. For them, it'll all be done in a flash. I suppose it's better that way. They won't have time to wonder whether heaven or hell exist, or which you are going to be sent to. For them, it's just...over. That fuse had to have been close now. I looked up at her one more time; I noticed tears in her eyes. I'll bet she cried those same tears for her father. A final blink flushed the water from my eye so I could get one last clear look at her. One final moment to try and memorize her before eternity. One last attempt to hear her name aloud, to make sure she knew I was sorry. "Twi—"
':03'WINGS OF WAR By: Bronius Maximus Edited by: FanNotANerd ':03' "The cherry trees are lovely in Stalliongrad this time of year. Would you agree?" "Yes, the blossoms are a bright red." "Excellent. The wolf howled alone on the plains." "I heard his cry." With that, I hung up the phone. Everything was ready to go. They had been waiting for years for somepony like me to come along. A war hero, ex-captain of the Wonderbolts. I couldn't blame them. The bottle of whiskey I bought was already halfway gone. Guess I was thirstier than I thought. I fumbled around on the nightstand for the dirty shot glass I'd been using all night, knocking some junk on the floor as I went. Not like it mattered, this apartment was a one room shit-hole. Some crummy building in Manehattan, run by the same dirty griffons as it probably had been for generations. The T.V. barely picked up cable, and the bathroom stank regardless of weather it had been used or not. 'How the mighty have fallen,' I lamented, throwing back another mouthful of fiery booze before putting my head back on the pillow. It was already midnight. The only reason I'm still awake is because I was waiting on that phone call. No reason to stay up any longer, except to stave off the dreams. I haven't gotten a solid night's sleep in ten years. I was young, and dumb. I had no idea what I was signing up for. Neither did the rest of my buddies. We were just colts, wanting to see the world, maybe kill a few zebra out there in the jungles of southeast Shetland. Why? Couldn't tell ya. The same reason any young colt leaves his mother to serve his princess I suppose. A sense of duty maybe? Perhaps the age old invincible attitude of youth. Our job was simple. Luna had the natives on her side, we had to take them out. The official story was she wanted nighttime, all the time. But anypony who believed that was either an idiot, or gullible. Or both. The ceiling fan went around above my head as I felt a calm buzz finally overtake me. Half a bottle of high octane alcohol, and all I got was a buzz. No wonder I live here. Wasn't always like this though. I had money, fame, all the mares I could want, any time I wanted them. Even had a fling with Spitfire once or twice after a show. My work kept my mind off my service for the most part. The constant public appearances and just being around other ponies was enough to let me sweep a lot of the memories under the rug. Once I retired, I couldn't keep them in check anymore. It used to just happen once a month, then twice, then three times. Each time I slept, the dreams felt more real, more vivid than the one before it. I started to drink again not long after. In about a year I was having nightmares every night. You get used to them eventually, but even if it's the same one a few nights in a row, new details emerge you hadn't noticed before. Those were the most haunting. It may be just an expression on a squad member's face, or it could be the dying gasp of a colt no older than myself crying for his mother among the thick smoke of the burning villages before a zebra silenced him with a blade across the throat. I never thought I would end up this way. Unable to feel even the slightest emotion unless I've been drinking. A lot of innocent young colts bones still rest out there, their memories, hopes, dreams and fears lost to the specter of death like so many tears in a rainstorm. The royals never set hoof in that part of the world. They never saw what they ordered us to do; they didn't see the stacks of dead zebra burning in the fields to send a clear message to those who dared support Luna's rebellion. They never had the acrid stench of burning flesh and hair fill their nostrils while they dragged more corpses away to be burned. I left a part of myself back there in that distant, lush hellhole. A part I know the jungle has claimed, and I know I'll never get back. It's okay though. The day after tomorrow, all that won't matter. I've often thought of those I lost during the war with a tinge of jealousy. After all, the dead have their peace. They aren't tortured night after night by what they did, what they saw. 'Move on' Spitfire told me, as if seeing your friends die in front of you and taking your anger out on some unlucky zebras bleeding face as he prayed to whatever god his kind respected for me to just kill him was something you could just 'move on' from. This cart I pull has a broken wheel. It can't go forward, it can't go back, and I'm stuck right here with it. Eyelids are getting heavier now, I know Shetland won't be too far off. At a certain point, even when you come to expect it, nothing really prepares you to see the faces of old friends long gone as you relive their final moments time and again. The booze helps take the edge off. When I was a foal, I dreamt of the sky, and the magic of flight, like most pegasi colts. Now all I see when I close my eyes is the hell that awaited me on the ground. The muddy, blood stained ground. I was ready. I found myself behind our medic Cotton. Walking in a silent line through the jungle, we made our way deep into the heart of Zebra territory. I was part of a special unit, the 'Silent Service' they called us. Our orders came straight from the top, Celestia herself, though none of us had ever met her. We were just grunts, not top brass. Our jackets camouflaged well with the foliage as did our face and body paint. All we had were blades on the ends of our legs, hence the 'silent' part of our nickname. There was a tripwire two paces ahead. Step over it, just like always. I knew this dream well. Nopony I knew died in this one. When I first began having the dreams, and recognizing I was in them, I tried to change them, to do something different than I had done in actuality, but I couldn't. I was just along for the hellish ride. The Zebra may have been primitive to us, but they adapted quickly to our tactics. They learned our paths, set ambushes, and laid traps. They certainly weren't the savages we had been led to believe in basic. The jungle thinned as we neared a village in the distance, about 700 feet from our position in the edge of the forest. High command suspected this village to be hiding weapons and guerrilla fighters in their homes. Were they really? Who knows? It wasn't our job to question orders, only to follow them. And follow them we did. "Firebase alpha foxtrot, sierra sierra, target village coordinates are 30" 27' west and 24" 17' north. Ready the strike package on our mark," I said as our dragon squad mate Static quickly wrote my words onto a scroll and blew it toward it's distant recipient. Within seconds, Static coughed up our reply. "Coordinates confirmed sierra sierra, firing for effect. Airstrike inbound in three-zero seconds." The unicorn fire crews would soon start using their magic to lob shells at our coordinates, they distant whistle of the crude bombs grew in intensity as they sailed through the sky. Here it comes. The villagers had no idea what was coming. They never did. The whistling of ordinance falling from the sky drifted towards our position. The first shell landed right on top of a flimsy straw hut, a soft rumble shaking beneath our hooves with every impact. Needless to say, it shattered into a thousand pieces, a red mist intermingling with the flying straw. The screams began almost immediately as the villagers gathered their children, wives and other loved ones and retreated into their huts. It didn't matter though. Hut's weren't going to protect them from Celestia's fire. The Strategic Air Command pegasi were well on their way, and that shit would burn the entire village to the ground. A hellish mixture of water and fire, said to be synthesized by the princess herself. If any got on you, it would be a lot less painful to just amputate the limb than try to get it off. It burned right down to the bone, and out the other side. I saw the smoke trail coming over the horizon as the bombardment relented. "Here comes the fun part!" Static added. At the time, I couldn't deny I was curious to see the effects of Celestia's fire first hoof. The smoke trails of the fighter pegasi grew over the horizon. A quick flight at treetop level over the village with perfect timing would release hell upon those suspected of supporting the opposition. The fire was like an ocean wave of death, its undulating crest setting ablaze anything or anypony unfortunate enough to be in it's path. The noise was something unique; something I've never heard replicated anywhere else. A soft rush followed by screams creating an orchestra of hellish sounds conducted by Death himself. Within seconds, the entire village was burning. Thick black smoke rose high into the air as the second wave ripped through the sky and unloaded more death upon the simple villagers, whose biggest concern yesterday was how many fish they were going to catch, or how much game they would need to kill for dinner. Here comes the worst part. I see her every time. No matter how hard I try, I can't look away. A zebra filly, no more than nine or ten, running towards our position screaming in fear. I can make out tears streaming down her face. I know she can't see us, but still, the terror in her eyes burns into my soul each and every time as the last Celestia's fire bomb drops, engulfing her in flames, silencing her screams for her mother and father forever. There's a pounding at the door. My head is killing me, but what else is new? 'Who in the hell...' I thought dragging myself out of bed and glancing at the clock. '10:35' 'Right...That Twilight filly was coming today.'
':02'Wings Of War ':02' I dragged myself out of bed and unlocked the door before walking back towards the table, where my whiskey from the night before beckoned. Still had a third of a bottle left. Not bad. I heard the door open behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to acknowledge the early twenties unicorn mare as she pushed her way through. "Thanks for the help." Sarcasm. Something she was getting fairly good at. She had been coming by for weeks now, though I never understood why she wanted to come here instead of someplace that wasn't this filthy hovel I called home. She said she wanted me to be comfortable or some such nonsense. Apparently Celestia wanted the war stories of old stallions like me documented, but for what purpose I didn't know. The truth behind what happened on battlefields across Equestria wasn't something you could just write down. Besides that, my truth certainly wouldn't fit the official description of the war. The Celestia-approved version. The noble stallions fighting and dying for their kingdom against the savages of Luna's horde. "Can I get you a drink?" I asked. I may be an old, alcoholic soldier, but I still had some manners. "It's 10:30 in the morning." "Suit yourself." I shrugged. More for me anyway. I took a seat at the dingy table as she sat across from me, quill and scroll at the ready as always. This had been going on once a week, for about an hour or so a day. She was about the only visitor I ever got anymore. I had a family once, but once the money ran out, so did they. Scumbags. Not that I needed them, but still. Being alone for so long with nothing but a head full of memories you'd like nothing more than to forget does things to a stallion. "How have you been sleeping?" I scoffed. She knew how I'd been sleeping, but still she asked me that every time she stopped by. "How do you think?" "Still having nightmares?" I hated this. She knew the answers to every question she asked; yet she asked them anyway. "Yes. The village one this time." She made a quick few scribbles on her scroll before continuing as I took a swig of my drink. "I know I've said this before, but the alcohol isn't helping," she added, eyeballing me as I took another sip. "You aren't my mother. Now, let's get on with it." Trying to describe war to a filly too young to have even been alive during it was like trying to describe color to the blind. It's not something you can just talk about. It's something you had to experience. Still, I tried to put it in laypony's terms for her. After all, I'm sure she didn't choose this job. I had told her of everything (well, most everything. Call it a sense of chivalry or sexism if you will, but there are some things I just can't talk about in front of an innocent filly like her) I had done during the war. I had relived it through my dreams so many times; affixing severed heads to a pike was like splitting apples for a fruit salad to me now. We were near the end of my last tour. Every last one of my squad with the exception of Cotton had been killed at one point or another. Some in midnight ambushes, some during routine patrols. One had his head cut clean off by a strand of razor wire as he sprinted to aid another. That stallion was trying and failing to fight off five or six zebra warriors. The average stallion would probably have gone insane by now. I had no idea why I hadn't. Maybe my time was coming. Maybe they'd find the last member of the fabled Silent Service dead on the floor of some crummy hotel, still clutching his unit insignia in one hoof and a bottle of half empty high proof bourbon in the other. Just like they found Cotton. But they wouldn't. Not if I could help it. After the official interview was over, she would do something I found most annoying. She would stay and visit with me, like we were old friends. I'd be remiss if I said there wasn't a part of me that liked it. No stallion is an island, as they say. "Haven't been getting out much, have you?" Like she had to ask. "No, not really." "You've got princess Celestia's recognition ceremony coming up. Is your uniform ready?" Recognition. For what? For doing what I was told without question like a good little pawn? I didn't need recognition, especially not from her. What about those young colts whose mothers only received a visit from the royal consulate and a M.I.A. card? Who probably wondered to this day whether their little boys were suffering in a prison camp somewhere before being murdered by those zebra bastards? Or those who were fortunate enough to get actual confirmation of their sons death, with a folded flag and a 'sincere' letter of thanks for their sacrifice, signed by Celestia's own rubber stamp? Where's their recognition? I didn't want to upset her, though. "Yeah, it's all set out in the closet." She got up and took a peek as if she owned the place, nearly tripping over the floor safe that came with the apartment. Not like I minded, but still, this generation had a thing or two to learn about manners. "Anything in the safe?" Curiosity killed the cat, my dear. "Nothing but more booze. I keep it in there to keep the maintenance guys from swiping it." There wasn't a drop of alcohol in that thing, but I damn sure wasn't about to tell her what was. She'd know soon enough. I caught her staring at me again. She'd been rather shy in the beginning of our time together, but I guess she had gotten comfortable around me. Every time I'd caught her staring these past few weeks she'd look away, embarrassed. I had honestly never seen a purple unicorn blush before, but I didn't figure it was anything. Then I started to put two and two together. Don't get me wrong; I was flattered to still have that effect on at least one mare, even if it was just a bookworm like her. But I'm almost twice her age. Hell, she could be my daughter. Oh well. That's a young stallion's game. "It's the only thing that keeps me going anymore" I thought I muttered that under my breath. Apparently I didn't. "What?" The concern was pretty obvious now. I should've kept my mouth shut. "Nothing." "Alcohol is the only thing that keeps you going?" Why ask me what I said if you knew the whole time? This filly was getting on my nerves. "Yeah. It is. I'd have off'd myself a while ago if it weren't for this." I didn't care about tact at this point. She wanted to know, so I told her. I took another swig, finishing the glass before reaching for the rest of the bottle. She put her hoof on top of mine and stopped me. Her blush was still there, but her seriousness was apparent in her smoldering glare. "I'd put that hoof back by your side if you want to keep it." I normally wouldn't threaten a filly like that, but this was my lifeblood we're talking about here. She slowly withdrew her hoof in defeat. I wondered why she would do that; why she would care. The defeated look on her face told me she was only trying to help. But why? I was just some grizzled old soldier living out his final days in a Manehattan hovel. Why would a pretty young filly like her concern herself with weather or not I drank myself to death? I poured the rest into my glass and set the empty bottle between us. I studied her expression, still caught up in why she would care. She's never shown anything like this in the preceding weeks. She knew she wouldn't have to visit me after today. Maybe that was why. Maybe she was one of those types that tries to leave something better than the way they found it. If that was the case she was wasting her time. I've been broken for a while. The booze was just a bandage, and those don't last forever. "You don't know what it's like, Twilight. You ever lost any friends?" I was getting serious now. Maybe the booze had a little bit to do with it, but I at least wanted to explain my actions. I felt like I owed her that. She shook her head. "You want to know why I do this?" She nodded slowly. "When you see your best friend's eyes plead for you to intervene as he knows he's about to meet his end, and you don't because you know to give away your position meant more along with yourself would die, to be unable to even look away for fear of rustling against the leaves as the light of life leaves his eyes... and then to relive that on an endless loop over and over again as you fall asleep. Am I wrong? Am I wrong to not have the strength to face that kind of torment without a little help?" I regretted that immediately. I had never been that open with anypony. I cursed myself for letting that out. Maybe I should take it easy on the booze, at least when company is over. Then she surprised me. "My father. He served in the Lunar wars too. I never knew him without a drink to his lips. He drank himself to death, just like you're doing. Forgive me if I'd rather not watch somepony else do it in front of me." There was that sarcasm again, along with a bit of ice for good measure. She was getting good. I could tell letting me know about her father was something particularly hard for her to do. I didn't mean to come off like such a jerk; I just wanted her to get a taste of why I do the things I do. "I'm sorry to hear about your Dad." Her features softened. Looks like she just admitted something she hadn't told anypony else either. "That's one of the reasons I took this assignment. Dad never talked about his time in the service. I wanted to know why... I figured one way to find out would be to interview the few remaining veterans who were there." It all made sense now. Sad, though it was. Growing up with an emotionally distant father can do things to a filly. "When your society is based on kindness, friendship, and helping others, things like war contrast so sharply, that some can't deal with it. The lucky ones block it out until it festers as a mental illness. Others, like me—and your dad, apparently—hide it through liquor. Still, some just can't take it at all. They're the ones who don't make it. The ones like Cotton..." I'd gone and done it again. I threw back the rest of my drink and scolded myself for continuing to talk. Then I saw who she really was. Just a lonely filly who missed her Dad. I stood from the chair and took a seat on the side of my bed, rubbing my eyes with my hooves. My flanks were falling asleep in that stiff chair anyway. "If you're Dad was anything like me, he drank so he could feel. Things like what we did back there... they rob you of your equanity. You can't feel unless you've been drinking. Even then... sometimes that stops working..." What the hell is the matter with me? My mouth is running like a leaky faucet, and I'm just letting it happen. I felt another weight on the mattress beside me. That's not good. I glanced over at her; she was still red as apple skin. I'd seen that look on a mare's face before. This filly has seriously lost it if she thinks I'm going to— Before I knew what happened, her lips were on mine. Needless to say I was a bit surprised. I wondered why she would even consider an old stallion like me. Pity maybe? Perhaps. More likely some unresolved daddy issues. Strangely enough, she didn't seem like the type, as most of those turned into strippers. She was different somehow. She pulled away. If she was red before, she was a strawberry now. "Did you feel that?" This was completely out of left field. I was still trying to make sense of it all before she threw herself on top of me. Instinct took over at this point, and I wasn't about to stop her. Maybe I was the pervert for letting someone half my age get the better of me like this. Maybe she was the one with problems, going after a stallion that could have been her Dad's age. I didn't know, and honestly couldn't care less. If this was what she wanted, I wasn't going to stop her. We stayed in bed until dark, joined at the hips. Even now I had no idea what possessed her to do that, or why she would even find me attractive in the first place. I held her next to me as we laid there in silence. We hadn't said much of anything since all this started. This heart of mine found itself one last centimeter that hadn't been hardened by what I'd done. That spot was hers now, but not for too much longer. She worked for the princess. She'd often gone on about being Celestia's faithful student or something. I had to know whether she would be at the ceremony tomorrow or not. She was a good filly, and didn't deserve what was coming. "Are you going to be at the ceremony tomorrow?" "Mhm, right next to Princess Celestia." My heart sank. I couldn't let her get hurt. She was innocent in all of this. One of the few associated with the royals who were. "I guess I'll have to catch a ride with you." She rubbed her cheek against my chest. It didn't feel like I was her first, but I couldn't imagine her being a stallion's mare. She was a tad clingy too, but she was young. She still had her whole life ahead of her. I got out of bed and walked to the small kitchen area to get us some water. We were both pretty thirsty, but I had a special ingredient for her. I glanced back over at Twilight. She was watching whatever garbage came on the t.v. this late at night. I grabbed a small brown bag from the medicine cabinet. Sleeping powder I had a prescription for, but hadn't used it since I'd started drinking. Hopefully it was still effective. I put two spoonfuls in her glass, watching it dissolve as I brought it over. She took it in her magic and nearly drained the whole glass in one thirsty gulp. 'Atta girl.' That should keep her asleep until well after the ceremony. Consider it my last act of kindness before my time on earth was through.
':01'Wings Of War ':01' I faced the dreams again, without alcohol. I hated doing that. It's okay though, that was the last time I'll ever have to do it. I carefully slid out of bed. Twilight was still out cold. Thankfully that sleep powder still had some kick left in it. I still didn't want to take any chances, so I walked as slowly and softly as possible over to the safe. A quick spin of the dial and it gave up it's contents. A tailored vest with three pockets along the left and right breast, and six on the back. Each one packed with enough explosives to bring down that entire banquet hall if I was lucky. Definitely enough to make sure my primary target wouldn't get away. It was a simple device. The phone call from the night before last was from those who constructed it. Theirs was a political goal, to try and restore Luna's rule, or start a new democratic government, I wasn't really sure. I hadn't cared to listen while they were explaining it. My reason was personal. Celestia made us kill, and be killed in the war against her sister, only to have her banished to the moon, and return as if nothing had ever happened. They even threw a fucking parade when Luna returned from her exile. Truly it was a pointless war, an exercise in futility, pitting one equine against another and for what? Not a damn thing. Everypony was expected to act as though the Lunar wars never happened. Well not me. I won't let them off that easily. The vest had a small glass capsule sewn into the front, containing a liquid primer behind a short fuse. It was positioned behind my ribbons, so all I had to do was activate it by pounding my hoof to my chest as if I were coughing. Then in two or three seconds, it would all be over. I slid it on and made sure it still fit. It was short enough to hide under my formal military jacket. I quickly put on the other parts of of my uniform: beret, ribbons, medals, the whole nine yards. I always figured I would die wearing this. Never thought it would be taking out a tyrant, though. I took one last look at myself in the mirror. I was a young, handsome stallion once. Wonderbolt captain for a while until Spitfire took over. I couldn't say truthfully how many things that war took from me. Nopony really wants to be around you when any little thing could put you back in that life or death mindset. It scared most mares to wake up at 3 am and have to talk the stallion they'd just spent the night with out of believing the zebra were just outside the door, ready to barge in and gut us both. Spitfire was the only one who came close to understanding, but even her patience wore thin after a while. Now I was just a shell of who I once had been. I don't mind anymore though. If my life were a bar, this was last call. I grabbed a flask from the dresser and felt it still had a few swigs left. "One for the road." I drained it and looked back at the sleeping filly in my bed, snoring softly. Her mane was still a mess from the night before, as was her tail. Suddenly, I felt something all too familiar. Guilt. I couldn't just leave her here without any explanation. I grabbed a quill and scroll out of her bag and began writing. 'Twilight, By now I'm sure you know what happened at the ceremony. I can't express in words what made me decide to go through with what I did, but suffice to say that this was the only useful thing I could do with this wasted life of mine. If you were trying to save me last night, I'm sorry. I was planning this long before you came along. I do this so maybe one day in the future you won't have to send your little colt off to war to become the broken shell I have become. You're a good pony, Twilight, and I'm sure your father is proud of what you've become. Before last night, I was in the darkness of my mind completely, but for a few shining hours, you rescued me. So in a sense, you could say you saved me, if only for a moment. Unfortunately, moments fade, and memories last forever. I don't want these memories anymore. What I do now, will seal my legacy as a traitor, a terrorist, or whatever label they'd have me branded with. But I'm glad you got to know who I once was, and who I am now. I'm glad you know the truth. Goodbye Twilight, our time together has been the sole bright spot for me in these, my last few years. SFC Soarin Blazer' I took one last look back at her sleeping peacefully. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel anything, but those who made this vest were expecting results. I was in too deep to back out now. Either I delivered or they'd come here and kill me. Not that I couldn't take a few of them with me, but now that Twilight's involved herself with me, I couldn't bear to have something happen to her on my account. I wedged a couple of bits in the door from the outside, just in case the powder wore off early. This was for the best. A pegasi cab pulled up outside my building. I turned back to my window, expecting to see a pleading unicorn pressed against the glass. Luckily for me and for her, the powder's grip seemed like it would hold for just long enough. I just hoped one day she would understand, I did this to keep her safe. I got on the chariot and it took off on a one way trip toward Canterlot castle. Within minutes, I was outside the gates, the guards saluting me as I passed them. Young colts, foals practically. The same age I had been when I joined up. My heart beat faster, feeling like it alone would set off my vest. The banquet hall was full of dignitaries, royalty, advisors, all manner of ponies who send others off into battle to do their dirty work while they sit back here in Canterlot and drank wine. None of them had ever known the devastation of losing a loved one to war, or a friend. Their kind didn't fight, their kind gave the orders and watched. I was the only veteran in the entire hall, the rest were all press, or members of the royal court's family. Good. The more of those blue blooded scum I take with me, the better. They put me at a table next to the stage where Celestia, Luna and the rest of her cabinet sat. After a few minutes of lip service, they called me up. This was it. My heart was hammering away in my chest as I ascended the staircase toward her. On a cushion behind her was another medal. A useless trinket to remind me of those I'd slain in her name. I plastered a fake smile on my face as she greeted me with hers. I bowed, no reason to cause suspicion yet. She used her magic to lift the medal around my neck. I wasn't expecting it to be as heavy as it was. I looked up at her, she was still smiling. The same smile she held in all the propaganda, all the appearances, and all the public events. "It was an honor to have a valiant soldier like you in my army." I cracked a genuine grin for probably the first time in ten years, seeing all the faces of my fallen brothers reflect in her eyes. This was for them. "No your highness, the honor is all mine." I raised my hoof to set off the fireworks, when a flash blinded me from my right. It took a second to refocus my eyes, but what I saw made me hesitate, and that would be my downfall. "Soarin stop!" I glanced to my right quickly. How did she get here? I knew that powder wouldn't last! "Twilight!" The princess exclaimed, "What is the meaning of this?" Why the hell did she have to show up now? She couldn't have waited five fucking seconds? I should have never left that damn note! I couldn't use the bomb now. Time for plan bravo. Under my sleeve was the blade I had used to snuff out the lives of many an unfortunate soldier who had chosen the wrong side. I found it kind of fitting that it would finally taste the blood of a tyrant, especially the one who forced its grisly job upon it. One quick swipe to the neck, and the guards could stab me all they wanted. My foreleg shot out just like I'd done so many times before, but something stopped my blade. Nothing emotional, or any sentimental reason, something physical, as if a hoof was holding my foreleg in mid air. It was maybe an inch from the glowing white neck that I aimed for; an aura of purple light surrounded it. I struggled to break from its grip, but it was impossible. Fear. Finally, I got to see it across Celestia's face. The same look I had seen on countless friends and enemies as they took their final breaths. Her expression begged an answer to why. Why a seemingly patriotic, loyal subject would try the unthinkable. The look on her face was nearly worth not getting that last inch. Twilight stopped me. I shot a quick glare at her before being taken to the ground. I could hear Celestia going on about why I would do this. I didn't have a lifetime to explain it. I felt two or three pegasi on top of me. You never realize how pointy their armor is until it's being pressed into your back. They gave me a few kicks for good measure while they had me down. I heard the soft crack of the primer. Against my better judgement I smirked. Looked like I'd get my chance to send some of these blood suckers to hell after all. My thoughts immediately turned to Twilight. I caught glimpses of her standing behind the pile the royal guards had formed on top of me. I craned my neck to shout to her. The disbelief on her face was evident, but she had to have known I wouldn't be above this. She listened to and transcribed more than I had ever told anypony. If anypony knew my true motives, it was her. She knew the real me, a smart cookie like her would understand why I did it. "Twilight!" I roared, "Run! Get off the sta-" A swift hoof to the jaw stopped me mid sentence. Please Twilight, just run, or teleport, do something! I didn't mean this for you! Please for the love of heaven just get off the stage! "I'm sorry. I'm not leaving you Soarin." I heard her say over the commotion. Not as sorry as you're going to be! No! Goddammit no! This wasn't meant for her you bastards! They say you see your life flash before your eyes right before you die. I only had maybe two seconds, tops before everything faded to black. Time slowed. I could feel the guards still struggling to subdue me as the crowd gasped and began to panic, realizing I had just attempted to assassinate the princess. Celestia was probably well off the stage by now. I could only hope to wound her if I was lucky. But Twilight... She was still just outside the guards huddled around me. Tears. Why the hell I chose now to cry I can't fathom. I hadn't done it since I enlisted, but seeing the pain on her face must have been the final straw. I could handle severed heads. I could handle disemboweling a sleeping enemy soldier. I couldn't take that look. Made worse by the fact that she still wouldn't get off the fucking stage. I'm sorry Twilight. I'm sorry you had to involve yourself with me. I never wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have ever dreamt of it. Why did you have to care? Why didn't you just finish your assignment and move on? Why didn't you just forget about me like everypony else in this world had? That caring heart of hers. I told her it would get her in trouble one day. I can't help but think of everything I'm taking from her. Her chance to meet the stallion of her dreams, her chance to know the pride of being a mother. Her chance to watch her foal grow into a pony and find a love of their own. Her chance to see her grandchildren grow up as she grows old with the love of her life. Her chance to die peacefully surrounded by her friends and family. No, instead she would die on this stage, with me. A broken old stallion with nothing left to lose. I'm so sorry Twilight. Maybe they'll honor you the way they planned on honoring me. Maybe you'll get a library named after you. After all, you were her 'faithful student'. I hate myself for doing this to her. In the one second I have left, I can't help but think how unfair it is; that I'm the only one who knows I'm about to die and take half this stage with me. I'm getting my final thoughts, but these guards...and Twilight. For them, it'll all be done in a flash. I suppose it's better that way. They won't have time to wonder whether heaven or hell exist, or which you are going to be sent to. For them, it's just...over. That fuse had to have been close now. I looked up at her one more time; I noticed tears in her eyes. I'll bet she cried those same tears for her father. A final blink flushed the water from my eye so I could get one last clear look at her. One final moment to try and memorize her before eternity. One last attempt to hear her name aloud, to make sure she knew I was sorry. "Twi—"
