A long time ago a great cold drove the equines from the north. The majority of the ponies from all three tribes found a new land in the east. With their very survival at stake these three groups put aside their age-old differences and proclaimed themselves to be Equestrians. However, Equestria did not represent all ponies, at least not at first.

For those who had initially tried to stay behind in the northern land eventually realized that their land was soon to be forever lost. Reluctantly they too ventured south, and found lands to call their own.

The pegasi of this second migration tried to distance themselves from the rest of the ponies by settling the island of Nieghpon. They would come to call themselves the Japonies, and they would preserve the warrior tradition of the ancient pegasi.

The earth ponies of the Second Migratory Period settled in the south, in a land of deserts, mountains, and grassland. They would come to call themselves the Itrotians, and they would continue the simple way of life of the earth ponies.

The unicorns were the last to leave, they held out until their magic could no longer hold back the howling winds. Defiant even in retreat, these unicorns found their new home in the sheltered valleys between the mountains of Québuck; which were, relative to the other migrations, still far north. They would come to call themselves the Québuckois, and they would maintain the nobility of the unicorns.

Secluded in their valleys, the first outsiders to discover the Québuckois were, in fact, Zebra, who maintained a fishing outpost in the gulf of the river that snaked through Québuck. From the Imperial language of the Roaman tongue the Québuckois forged their own language, believing that their old language should die with their old homeland.

With these three pony nations threatening Equestria’s newly found unity, the first priority for Equestrian leadership was to bring these outliers to heel. The Itrotians were the first to fall, their simple way of life could not protect from spell fire or flying phalanxes. The Japonies were next, their aerial combat was unmatched, but even the proudest of pegasi must come down to seek shelter from suddenly conjured thunderstorms. The Québuckois, in the face of a mighty Equestrian army, fought a vicious defense. They fought in the plains, they fought in the forests, they fought in the mountains, they fought amongst the thousand islands dotting their mighty river, they fought on the fortress walls of Québuck City, and they fought their final battle on the frozen river surrounding Mount Royal.

Within the first hundred years of its existence Equestria had brought three powerful nations into its fold.

“You ever think that Equestrian textbooks tend to overemphasize the military history of pre war Equestria?” I asked, looking up from my history book at my friend sitting across from me.

Shaggy shook his long yellow hair out of his eyes, “Well it is a war time text, so it was probably the government trying to give Equestrian youth the impression that the war wasn’t a divergence from Equestrian history.” He said with a shrug.

“Hey Bruiser, do you think that sounds about right?” I asked, and elbowed the large green pony I sat beside.

“Screw off Fletcher,” Bruiser said without lifting his head from his fore hooves.

“You know,” began Cinder, the inhabitant of the final desk in our 2x2 desk block, “if you don’t study you’ll fail the next test.”

“Yeah, and?” Bruiser challenged him, pulling his head off the desk to look Cinder right in the eye.

“You and I both know that your mom will give you the strap if you don’t pass.” Cinder replied with a cocky half smile.

“I’ll kick her teeth in if she tries!” Bruiser said and slammed his hooves down on the desk.

We all fell silent for a moment and stared with blank expressions at him before I chuckled and broke the silence, “Shit dude that’s fucked.” And we all laughed it off.

That was me, not some sort of beta male engineer, not some goody four shoes security guard, especially not some scrawny electrician nerd. Nah in hindsight I was a meathead who hung around punks. I loved my life then, I was on top of the world, fillies awed at me in the halls, I had some nerd doing my homework for me, and thanks to my excellent memory I never needed to take notes in class. I had power, and I was using it for me.

By the time we get to an actually relevant part of the story those days are long over for me. It’d been four years since then.

My eyes focused on the ground, and with my telekinesis I swept my broom back and forth over the concrete floor as I had for the past four years. Concrete? Oh you thought this was a Stable? No, I wasn’t that pampered, this was Emergency Shelter 40. Literally just some old mine shafts that had been given a nice-ish concrete finish.

“Hey Murderer?” some colt interrupted my job. “Why do they call you Murderer?” Yeah you can probably guess what took me from the top to the bottom.

“I’ll give you a hint, someone is dead, and it’s my fault.” I said and tried to return to my work. The little guy just looked at me blankly, probably too young to fully understand the implications.

“Are you dangerous?” He asked with his big curious eyes locked on me.

What sort of question was that? Everyone is dangerous to some extent. I mean I hadn’t killed anyone recently nor did I intend on doing so at any point in the future, “Yes.” I answered with something of a shrug.

“You don’t look dangerous. I think you’re just being silly.” He said with a smile.

This colt was asking to have a broom handle cracked over his head. “Hey, don’t you have somewhere to be, friends to hang out with, or parents who are waiting for you?” I asked with a forced smile. He nodded then darted off.

“Brother!” I heard a familiar voice call from the end of the hall. Surely enough when I looked up from my sweeping to see a handsome stallion decked out in full military kit. Here was my goody goody-older brother, Archer, probably here to brag about his adventures on the surface as a Fusilier.

“What news do you have from the surface?” I asked and set my broom aside. As much as I was sickeningly envious of him, his stories were pretty much my only entertainment.

He took me to the side of the hall and after a glance in either direction said in a hushed voice, “Hey you know those comics that you used to read? The superhero ones?”

“I only read those because I needed something thin enough to hide in my textbook during study period.” I replied, give the reason why I started reading them.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah whatever, anyways, I gathered up some materials and made myself a cool looking costume and stashed it under this knotted tree.”

“Oh for fuck sakes you aren’t actually thinking of…” I began.

“Yeah, I am.” He replied, “How many times have I told you about how innocent ponies get robbed, hurt, and killed before my very eyes, simply because the ROE doesn’t let me intervene?” I opened my mouth to answer when he cut me off, “Too many times. So I’m just going to do some vigilante work on the side.”

I could sense the will and drive behind his words, so regardless of how stupid and suicidal I thought it was, I was better off just going along with it. “Ok then, what do you plan on calling yourself, and when can I expect you to end up with me on penal shift?”

He paused to think for a moment, “uh… the Dark Fusilier? And hopefully never.”

I snickered, “Ow I think I just cut myself on your edge.”

“It’s a work in progress.” He said, and when I didn’t stop snickering he added with a scowl, “Get back to sweeping.”

My watch beeped and I gave him my smuggest grin, “Actually, I’m on my lunch break.”

As I walked through the halls for what may have been the millionth time in my life I scanned the walls for any graffiti, not just because it was my job to clean that up, but also because it was something that broke up the monotony of grey concrete walls. Unfortunately today the walls were bare of anything colourful, spare the handful of wartime moral posters. I was waiting for the elevator down when a small tremor shook the hall. I groaned and walked to the stairwell. On my way down I passed the various levels of the shelter, most of which were dedicated to living spaces and the like. I reached the bottom of the stairs and walked out onto the parade grounds, which was what we had taken to calling the tunnel for an eight lane (4 in one direction 4 in the other, separated by support pillars) highway that cut through the mountain containing our tunnels. It had been sealed off on both sides and when it wasn’t being used by the Fusiliers to do drills it served as a public space.

Right now it was the latter, and one could find anything from a colts vs fillies hoof ball match to an unlawful gambling ring. I was more interested in getting something to eat and just made my way through the various crowds, all the while trying my best to ignore the hushed whispers aimed at me and the brief glances I drew. Thankfully I was soon at the next stairwell, and after a quick flight of steps, I was on the cafeteria level.

The cafeteria was nothing special really, just a large square room where presumably the miners had found a large iron deposit or stored equipment. I lined up and waited until a bowl of oats and oat supplement was provided to me. I then made my way over to the degenerate table. Yes, there was a table for people like me, and sitting there waiting for me were my best mates Bruiser and Shaggy, with Cinder of course not being implicated in anything, now living a normal life and training to be a Fusilier. “What’s good?” I asked and looked expectantly at my friends.

Neither of them said anything. “Yeah. Same here.” I said glumly and kept my eyes to my plate.

Fortunately our silence ended when Cinder waltzed on over and plopped himself down among us. “Sup?” He casually greeted us.

“Well now isn’t this a surprise?” Bruiser said and gave Cinder a resentful look, “Not everyday that you find time for us.”

“Oh shut the fuck up Bruiser.” Shaggy said then looked at Cinder expectantly.

“So I just wanted to see if any of you guys have figured out what this oat supplement stuff is.” Cinder said and gestured with a hoof towards the contents of my bowl.

“No, unfortunately we degenerates are denied access to a lab.” I replied and immediately jumped into the question I had on my mind, “Now I got a question, do you know why the ROE would prevent a Fusilier from intervening in an incident, and also, what’s an ROE?”

With a little chuckle Cinder answered, “ROE stands for Rules Of Engagement, they dictate what we can and can’t do in the field.” He then looked a little troubled, “a Fusilier is supposed to protect the shelter, facilitate limited trade with our partner, and is specifically not supposed to get involved in the affairs of surface dwellers. So I guess that would prevent a Fusilier from intervening in an incident between surface dwellers. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged and finished chewing my mouthful of the sloppy oats. “Nah it’s nothing, just something my bro complains about a lot.”

A series of faint tremors shook the room and Bruiser asked, “Hey Cinder, you must have taken a geogralgy class at some point. Tell me, is there an earthquake scheduled for today?”

Cinder cocked an eyebrow and did his best to answer, “I’m pretty sure you just combined two subjects there, and I know for a fact that there is no earthquake status.”

The tremors continued and I sighed, “As much as I would love to stay and chat, I’d better finish sweeping the upper levels before the brass orders everyone back to their quarters.”

As I made my way back to where I had stopped sweeping I noticed something. Earthquakes occur in the ground, and can therefore be felt most strongly underground, yet with each level I ascended the tremors grew stronger.

Out of curiosity -and the fact that I was still on break- I took the stairs all the way to the top level. As I made my way up there was a great crash and the stairwell shook so hard that I was certain my life was over. The tremors were now joined by dust, a breeze, and a series of deafening bangs. I reached the top of the stairwell and found that the top platform was covered with bits of safety glass from the window on the door connecting the hall to the stairs. I turned my attention to the blown out window, and through the thick cloud of dust I could make out rubble in the hall, and a distinct lack of a ceiling. I saw what may have been motion, and as I made my way towards the door to see if I could help I heard a shrieking noise rapidly come closer, and a quick glance at the ceiling of the stairwell revealed large cracks. As the dust began to clear I could clearly see an impossibly massive space beyond.

“Shit.” I whispered to myself, half of me wanted to dive down the stairs in terror and half of me wanted to go forth into that beyond. I settled on pulling the fire alarm and bolting down the stairs. I was nearly at the bottom when the screeching was abruptly replaced with an extremely loud noise and a shock wave that knocked me on my belly. I got up and after getting my bearings in the dust filled stairwell continued down until I reached the parade grounds.

The atmosphere of the parade grounds had drastically changed since my last pass through, what had moments before been a social area was now being evacuated to the lower levels as the Fusiliers set up defensive positions, the senior ones like my brother setting up closest to the door. I scanned the room and to my surprise I noticed that Bruiser and Shaggy were up here, and not in the evacuation lines. I trotted over as quickly as I could, all the while trying to the best of my ability to avoid the attention of the Fusiliers. “Guys! What the fuck is happening?” I asked as I frantically trotted over.

“They said over the intercom something about a breach.” Shaggy said between deep breaths. I made a mental conclusion that whatever was happening had knocked out the intercom system on the upper levels, not like that mattered much at this point though.

“Yeah I know that, I was right upstairs, I want to know what you guys are doing here.” I stated and look around, wondering why they weren’t in the evacuation lines.

The answer came from an instantly recognizable voice right behind me, “You three will be helping me lug ammunition from the storeroom to the contact line.” I turned and looked at Cinder. He was in his cadet uniform with the addition of a simple steel helmet.

“Really?” I had to ask.

“Yeah, it’s 3 degenerates per cadet, so I’m picking you guys.” When he saw that we weren’t particularly amused he added, “Come on, it’ll be like old times.”

“Fine.” Bruiser said, “If I’m going to die, I may as well die while living like none of this shit happened.”

Shaggy and myself gave similar sentiments, and Cinder motioned for us to follow.

I found myself trotting along behind the rest of the group through a series of descending halls that lead to a large reinforced door clearly labeled “Danger”. Inside there were multitudes of metal boxes.

“Now, you guys just grab a box or two and carry it back up to-” his instructions were interrupted by a few dozen bangs followed by shouts from above.

We quickly gathered up some boxes (they were much heavier than the lunch pails they superficially resembled).

Upon re-entering the parade grounds some things were noticeably different, some of the concrete slabs that had made up sections of the floor had been raised to create impromptu trenches. More alarming was the fact that there were many holes in the large metal door that separated the parade ground from the outside world, as well as numerous chunks of the wall lying on the ground.

I heard another set of bangs and we threw ourselves into the nearest trench. I watched as large bright orange bolts whizzed by overhead. There was the sound of concrete falling to the ground, and it continued for minutes as the air filled with dust. When the dust finally settled I looked out to my horror to see that the forwards portion of the ceiling had collapsed, taking out the doorway, burying the forward trenches under the mountain, and completely exposing us to the enemy.

Speaking of which, I had never seen such an array of colours. Banners of green, red, and black fluttered amongst the massive host of enemies.

There was something disturbingly alluring about the outside world, gazing outside at the vastness, the mystery, and the orgy of colors, many of which were shades I had not seen before. I began crawling out of the trench, if I was to be killed by this army of savages, then I’d at least die knowing what the ground outside felt like.

Fortunately Cinder had the sense to pull me back down as the remaining Fusiliers opened up on the assembled enemies even though the fire they received in return greatly out stripped what the Fusiliers could give out.

I lay there in the trench, shots ringing in my ears, explosions rattling my skull, and shouts scaring my soul. The firefight dragged on for what felt like hours. The Fusiliers, having brought up some sort of large wheeled gun which emitted a great blast of flame from its rear when fired, were desperately trying to hang on as each of its shots were met with an entire volley of artillery fire from the enemy guns.

And then it mostly stopped, and after I regained my hearing I could hear a horn frantically blasting. I stuck my head out again and looked upon the enemy line, it was moving, hastily struggling to reform, with large portions of its former position on fire. I could hear gunfire, and I noticed what could have been artillery landing amongst the enemy ranks. I watched, and eventually I could make out something new struggling through the sea of opposition. A series of blue, white, and gold banners fluttered over the areas where the fighting seemed to concentrate.

Eventually the new force broke through the center of the enemy and, after dividing the two apart, a column of lance armed unicorns galloped through, near to the gaping entrance, close enough for my jaw to drop at the elegance of their uniforms. They then broke off into two groups, and moved to the sides of the doorway. Moments later they appeared again, bolting towards the now out flanked enemy with such speed that I inferred that they must have climbed someway up the mountain before galloping down with their lances lowered. The effect was immediate: those who weren’t impaled by the lances were battered aside by the volume of bodies. Those who tried to flee towards the nearby woodlands were pursued and cut down en mass.

-Two Years Later-

I stood in the same trench as I had on that day. Over time I had twice witnessed the cycle of the seasons, and had even been blessed to witness the clouds part to momentarily reveal the sun, a reminder that mere balefire bombs wouldn’t kill our immortal heads of state.

Things in the shelter had changed. The entrance way was now a maze of barbed wire. After the bloodletting of that day the remaining Fusiliers, Cinder now amongst them, were always accompanied by ponies such as myself who would assist them in their duties within the shelter, which were mostly just guarding the entrance.

Speaking of ponies like me, I was sharing the trench with Shaggy and Bruiser. “Last night was shit.” Bruiser stated in reference to the time he spent puking after a bout of heavy drinking.

“See, this is what happens when you ignore my advice.” Shaggy said, and seeing the spite on his face, recited, “Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. Beer before liquor, never been sicker.”

“Sorry I couldn’t hear that. Could you take that cock out of your mouth and say it again?” Bruiser shot back.

“Are you trying to imply that I suck dick?” Shaggy inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

“I’m not implying anything.” Bruiser replied. “I’m stating it as a fact.” He said, and then returned to laying on the ground and rubbing his temples.

“So why do you think Cinder told us to pack for a trip today?” I asked and fiddled with the strap of the steel helmet I had been issued.

“He wants to see if we’ll bring him more poles to shove up his ass.” Bruiser replied, then groaned.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that.” Cinder said as he approached us.

“So then great leader, what are we doing?” Shaggy asked with a cocky yet curious grin.

“Don’t call me that.” Cinder said as he hopped into the trench, giving us a close up view of what he looked like in full kit. “Today, we’re leaving.”

I was the first to speak, “Great leader say what?” My mouth hung open for longer than I’d like to admit.

“The mines are running dry, and we need them in order to barter with the outside world for the food we need to stay alive. We are going to find a new place to settle.” He said with a determined expression on his face. “Now gather up your stuff and get walking.” Noticing our surprise, he added, “That’s an order.”

I stared him in the eye, for a moment I wanted a better explanation. However, I knew him, when he gave an order he wanted it to be followed. I grumbled, strapped my saddles on over my dark grey hoodie, slung my rifle over my shoulder, then pulled myself out of the trench and made my way towards the light filtering in through the massive hole.

I walked over the mass of rubble covered in barbed wire and felt a pang of guilt. My brother was one of the ones buried beneath the collapsed ceiling. If I was leaving the shelter, I was leaving him.

“We can’t say goodbye to our folks?” Shaggy asked frantically as we left.

Both Cinder and Bruiser turned to answer him, “No.” That probably would have bothered me, if my dad hadn’t gone senile and forgotten me last year.

The outside world felt alien, the air circulated in a very different way causing shivers to run down my spine. I had never been outside; whenever Cinder had been posted out there he had specifically left us behind. I looked around and took in my surroundings. Along either side of the highway there were trees and rock cuts. Through the low hanging fog I could make out what must have been more mountains off in the distance. I took a look back at my home’s mountain and noticed that the slopes directly to the sides of the entrance were gradual enough that the lancers would have been able to go some ways up with ease.

As I continued looking around, one thing caught my eye: an old knotted tree that split into one large trunk and two smaller ones, so near the base that it almost looked like a throne.

Remembering my last conversation with Archer I walked to the tree and examined its exposed roots. I soon found a strap and when I yanked on it I pulled out a sports bag. Realizing that this must be the costume he made I unzipped it the and peered in. Its contents stared right back at me.

Author's Note

Holy shit that took too fucking long to write. None the less at a tad under 4k words I’m pleased that I’m finally done, and I’m happy knowing that this time (unlike Rough Water) I have an editor.

A very lazy one who keeps telling me to get a different one so he doesn’t have to be bugged.

-Paddle Steamer

As for that battle, quick explanation of what happened, as Murderer wasn’t in the best place to view it:
-the enemy attacks with 75mm field guns loaded with tungsten AP rounds
-some of the penetrators manage to hit the nearest set of support columns
-columns give out and the ceiling and part of the mountainside collapses into the parade ground burying the forward trenches (where Archer was stationed) and exposing the shelter to the outside world
poorly drawn diagram:
http://i.imgur.com/jSID9tA.png