Bright, everything was blindingly bright. I squeezed my eyes as I held up my hooves to try and block out the flood of light. But it slowly died down, allowing me to see that I was afloat above a makeshift campsite. Looking through the embers of the fire, I saw three ponies sitting around.

My mind was hazy when it came to what happened. The last thing I remembered was a sparring match with Sharp for the crown. I didn't recall who won. But given the fact I was here, I’d say it was safe to assume I had lost.

Once my eyes reconfigured to the lighting, I saw that the ponies at the camp were a unicorn stallion and two earth ponies, also a stallion and a mare. The mare, a light grey coated horse with rather striking features sat to the side. Her mane was neon green with a purple highlighted mohawk that ended in a braided ponytail. Although her flank was much more eye-catching than her hair.

Her cutie mark was surrounded by a tribal tattoo made out of vivid, single solid colors. It appeared to be a snake with a thick outline, crude patterns in segments within it and soft smooth shapes. Some segments were colored and others had more creative patterns within them. Around the snake were red dots of various sizes. But moving up her back was another animal, this time a frog, just as detailed as the snake. A lizard with an earthier brown-red color scheme ended off the creature chain.

But back to her actual cutie mark. It appeared to be a grinding tool of some kind. Some green drops seemed to be splashing out of it, which could suggest poison, I wasn’t sure. Under the animal trail was a name made up of what seemed like a brand mark: 'Sydney'.

That's when it clicked who this group of three ponies were. Three of the four Immortals. Red Cross, Sydney and my father, Straight Shot, back before I was ever born. I didn’t know how or why I was here, but it didn’t seem I have been noticed yet.

Either way, I eagerly looked around and saw what was a younger version of Doc. Seemingly still wearing the same coat, just with fewer bullet holes. He looked distant, staring at the flames and embers. Doc seemed to be in thought, an expression of contemplation on his face.

"It's been a month." That voice, younger though it may have been, I recognized it.

I looked over in amazement, seeing Straight Shot, my father. My eyes began to water as I looked at him. His mane, which I had only known to have been losing a battle with time, was now a dark blue. His coat, although tattered with much fewer scars, was unwrinkled. His eyes were the same though, a blue that mine mirrored.

He was wearing the same snow jacket I was. The dark blue and white jacket, with its orange lining. It was still in peak condition. But my father was different, he didn’t have a metal prosthetic hoof. Instead he had a flesh and bone limb with a PipBuck on it. I felt tears running down my face.

"Daddy!" My words echoed out like that of a little colt, but I passed right through him. I was a ghost in a memory, although whose and why was still unclear. But I didn’t care, I just wanted a hug.

I slowly got back up and wiped my face as I sniffled. I turned to look at the group from the past when I saw Doc speak. But not before glaring at my father.

Doc spat at the flames. "A month since your last fix, junkie."

My dad grimaced and rubbed the back of his right forehoof, avoiding eye contact. I was about to yell at Doc, despite being a ghost in memory. But Sydney beat me to it.

Although she started by slapping Doc across the muzzle with a hoof. "Red Cross, how dare you!" Tears filled her eyes as Doc looked almost as hurt as her.

Dad sighed and looked at Doc. "It's been a month since Blood was lost," he groaned.

Sydney wiped her eyes. "Straight," she began.

But dad cut her off, continuing, "My growing dependence on chems had nothing to do with it. But he made me promise not to take any combat or recreational chems without him. So I'm being a good friend during this shitty month." He started vigorously scratching the same spot with his hoof.

Doc trotted over to him and stopped his friend’s insistent scratching. "You are right, I'm sorry. Going cold rad-hog mustn't have been easy. I'm still upset about that young bounty hunter last week." The whole mood of the camp was low.

Sydney moved close to Doc to comfort him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's not our fault, you saw the false bounty poster he had." She nuzzled the distant Doc, taking a long sighing breath. "We can't keep doing this, the adventure needs to stop."

'Tick.'

Straight Shot looked up, eyes widening as there seemed to be a bottle of Wild Pegasi in a magical field above them and the open flame. Straight yelled for every pony to move as the bottle exploded and its contents showered down. The moment the flames licked at the whiskey, the whole area went up in a fireball. I blocked my ears and eyes as the overwhelming explosion.

I saw the three Immortals, having managed to jump back, they were not seriously hurt. Their bodies burned and scraped, they all composed themselves, grabbing their gear as they quickly readied for battle. Straight checked his PipBuck and armed himself with a pipe revolver. Sydney was bleeding from one ear, so Red Cross grabbed a healing potion in his magic. Sydney drank the potion that Red Cross brought over to her, before equipping the SMG I had once wielded.

Straight turned west, gun at the ready. A shadowy figure stepped out from behind a tree and opened fire. The shot flew true and hit my father's pistol in his muzzle. The pipe pistol was destroyed, as fragments shot back and peppered dad's face. He stretched out his legs, about to gallop, when a gunshot rang out from the figure. I recognized the sound of this weapon, a model 500 Colt double-action revolver, 10.5-inch barrel, five rounds.

A second shot hit past my father's forehoof, exposing bone, grounding him as he recoiled back. Sydney dove to Straight Shot and pulled him behind the cover of a standing wall as Red Cross went for a laser weapon of some kind, pulling it out of his saddlebag with his magic. Before he could turn the rifle in his white glow, a third shot went out and tore through his weapon.

Before Red Cross could react, a fourth shot rang out and struck him in the chest. Blood shot out of the hole as he simply fell to the side, speechless. Sydney screamed around her SMG, turning her head around the corner of the wall and opening fire blindly. The fifth round's shot washed out the noise from the SMG. The bullet pierced the corner of the wall and embedded itself in the SMG's magazine, warping it, jamming the gun.

Sydney, throwing the gun to the side, dove out of cover and towards Straight Shot's burnt saddlebag. She pulled out a sniper rifle of some kind, shielding it with her body. It was only a moment, but that was enough for the shooter, her neck moved. The sniper rifle’s barrel was exposed for a moment.

‘Bang!’

The revolver’s round shot the rifle's barrel in twine. I watched as Sydney was out in the open, the figure approaching the now unarmed group. The figure was about to step into the light. But from behind the wall, my father popped out, covered in blood. In his wounded muzzle was the SMG, a single manually loaded shot in the chamber.

‘Click.’

A dud, the round was a dud. The shadow pony turned and pointed his white chromed revolver with a goddess’ name on it at my father's head. He turned the gun and fired it through the wall, the sixth shot blasted clean through dad’s hoof, just above his PipBuck. He screamed as he clenched his right hoof, bleeding badly as it hit bone. The figure then moved into the light; it was a crying Twin Barrel.

Sydney started sobbing, shivering as the dread of the situation sank in. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she still held onto the ruined rifle.

Red Cross groaned and coughed blood, to which Sydney and I looked over to him. Red Cross held a gaping wound with his magic, his shredded insides visible. Somehow he managed to survive the chest shot from what I assumed was one of the world's most powerful guns. Twin Barrel pointed his gun at Red Cross, his face contorting in anger. His magic slowly squeezed the trigger, the hammer pulling back.

"No!" Sydney swung the ruined sniper rifle at Twin Barrel and blindly pulled the trigger. It fired before exploding in her hooves.

Shrapnel shot shallowly into her body, fragments of wood and old metal embedding themselves into her hoof and chest as the small wounds bled. The round she risked so much for did shoot out, but missed Twin Barrel, at close to point-blank range. He was unhurt but had taken note of her desperation. Twin stopped aiming at the wounded Red Cross, now walking over to Sydney.

Twin wiped tears off his face. "You killed my son, so now I'm going to get my revenge." He then aimed his gun at my dad, who was still squirming at the bad leg wound. "I have three bullets left, three kills." He looked at her, his yellow eyes firm and serious.

Sydney shook, but stood up, bleeding. "Three, if I can take them then you leave the Immortals alone. I am the one who killed your son, not them." Sydney stood between Twin Barrel and my dad, the gun still aiming at Straight Shot behind her.

Straight groaned, sitting up. "Sydney, don't." He was in no shape to move.

The mare was now crying softly, looking at Straight Shot and Red Cross. "Straight, there is a hydra potion in my saddlebag, give it to Red Cross." She then turned to look into Red Cross's eyes, seeing he didn't have the strength to focus on anything but his wound.

Despite his injury, blood pooling in his lungs, he managed to cough, getting a word out, "Sister…"

She smiled at him. "Red Cross, I know you hate killing. But you only do it to keep us safe. I want you to stop, both of you, settle down, the adventure is over.” She took a short pause, before continuing, “Also, Blood Rose, tell him I believe in him, he has the opportunity to do so much good in his position." She smiled bittersweetly at the two of them.

‘Bang!’

Twin’s white chrome barrel smoked as a large hole in Sydney's lower chest appeared. Crimson shot out across the snow, the large hole gushing blood. She didn't seem to react, besides wavering a little. Time slowed down as the only thing any pony seemed to be able to do was watch. Sound itself seemed to have vanished, all but the crackling of the fire.

‘Bang!’

Time began to flow yet again. Sydney's smile faded as she fell to the side, a new hole in her chest. Fresh red liquid squirted out as she held her hooves to the new holes. She tried to stop the profuse bleeding as she coughed and screamed in pain. This bullet, just like the first round, pierced straight through her body. Blood began to pool under her as she was close to death.

Twin Barrel just firmly looked down at her, before pointing his two revolvers at Straight Shot and Red Cross. "Get up." His look of cold judgeless death glared firmly down at Sydney.

Both Red Cross and Straight Shot looked pale and faint, with Red Cross's magic flickering on and off. Despite her injuries, Sydney rolled onto her belly and pushed her hooves to the ground, shaking as she struggled to stand. She raised her head to the barrel of the midnight Luna revolver. Panting and groaning as she bled out rapidly, her smile returning to her face once more.

Twin Barrel had a tear run down his cheek. "I forgive you," he said in an almost silent voice.

‘Bang!’

There was a flash of blinding light, forcing me to flinch and shut my eyes as the world filled with sound. But when I opened them, I was in a dark void. There were spheres of magical memory bubbles floating in front of me. I couldn't tell what was inside them, but I had to cool down after the heavy emotion that I just saw.

After taking a breather, I thought about the scene I just witnessed. The death of Sydney, Doc's sister, the end of the Immortals. The weight of the SMG Doc gave me, I didn't know the history behind it. This must have been the reason for Doc to swear off violence. But why did Twin Barrel attack them? What did he forgive them for? Where was Blood Rose?

I still didn't know how or why I had these memories. All I had was more questions. But there were two more spheres in front of me, so I touched one.

A slow white grey haze overtook me. My ears were overwhelmed by the sound of static as my nose filled with the smell of roses. Being an equine, we ate flowers. Although being a wastelander, that was a rare delicacy. Yet, to what I imagined, I could taste roses. Eventually, the haze began to clear.

Before I opened my eyes, I could feel the familiar cold of an eternal winter’s night. I opened my eyes to see myself out in a wide-open snowfield, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. A slightly darker night, the cloud-coated sky ever looming above.

I looked down from my vantage point in mid-air, seeing a group of ponies surrounding a smaller group. Flying down with my ghostly body, I stopped when I could tell who they were. It was the Immortals, all of them. This included a younger-looking Blood Rose, then again he still looked younger than me, despite being around my dad and Doc's age in the present.

The Immortals seemed to be surrounded by the Ninety-Nine. Somepony stepped out of a cherished black and gold-trimmed armored sky wagon. One that was pulled by slave pegasi. It was encircled by the Ninety-Nine's less ordained sky wagons.

The pony that stepped out was a unicorn with a rose hair styled similar to Blood's. Although he had a white coat, a red and black colored mane, and yellow eyes. As well as a pair of black and red chips with rose symbols on them as a cutie mark. I had seen this pony before. Twenty-One Rose, Blood Rose's father.

A pungent aura poured out of him, masked by the scent of roses. His yellow eyes scanned the scene before him, somewhat unfocused before they stopped on Blood Rose. His eyes seemed to physically shrink, focusing intensely with their needle like gaze. A brambly wicked grin grew on his cheeks, complementing his pinprick eyes. He looked maniacally twisted, his white magic pulling out a briefcase.

One of the Ninety-Nine stepped between the group and Twenty-One Rose. The pony from a group of duplicates bent down as Twenty-One put the case on his back as a makeshift table. The case clicked as everypony other than the Ninety-Nine watched closely. A gold light shone out from it as he slowly turned it to the group.

Without saying a word, Blood stepped forward. The case opened, revealing a lightbulb and a deck of playing cards. Blood was quite serious, although he still had an aura about him, it was nothing like when I met him. Dad went to step up to Blood's side, all but the table Ninety-Nine drawing their blades a little. It was more than enough for him to stay put.

Twenty-One began to shuffle the deck of cards in his magic, cutting and folding the cards. "Five." That was the only word Twenty-One said, in his clear, yet chilling voice.

Blood simply nodded with them seemingly coming to some agreement without words. The game began, the dealer with his phantom aura making me see a dealer of death for a second, instead of cards. The first two cards were dealt to Blood, who looked nervous before even seeing them.

He picked up the cards, before presenting them. He held a nine of hearts and an ace of spades, for a total of twenty. The dealer turned to show that he held a Queen and a three of clubs. Blood's twenty beat his father's thirteen. Blood sighed in relief, before Twenty-One's mouth opened. "Twenty."

He pronounced it, but seemingly at no one. That was when twenty random Ninety-Nine members drew their swords. The Immortals took a combative stance. But this was met with no retaliation, unlike before. That's when everypony not in the know would find out how this game worked.

The unlucky twenty held the tip of the blade to their throats, their hilts in the snow. They then leaned forward and fell in unison onto their blades. Their faces hit the ground as they lay dying. This was it, this was the power of Twenty-One, the leader of the Rose clan.

Although the Immortals were in shock, they still stayed silent. Blood turned his gaze from the dead to Twenty-One, who snickered as he shuffled the cards. "Maybe it should be a shovel instead of a spade." The death was nothing to this dealer. He simply kept playing.

The player got his two unmarked cards, as the dealer drew his two cards. Twenty-One then drew a third card from the deck. Blood, seemingly shook at the coldness from his father settled for his cards. Eight of hearts and a seven of diamonds. Without any care or hesitation, Twenty-One revealed he hit twenty-four and lost, again.

Twenty-One began to smile, licking his lips before he spoke, "Fifteen," again with the single empowering word which carried an order for death. An order his Ninety-Nine carried out without any hint of emotion. He simply watched Blood and his reaction of dread.

The Ninety-Nine once again drew their weapons, this time their signature firearms.Bulky black pistols, probably semi-automatic. The size suggested a large caliber, so fully automatic would be unlikely. Regardless, they all pointed their guns to their chin, before a sequenced gunshot rang out throughout the wasteland.

Fifteen more pony corpses lay on the ground of the wasteland. If left there, they would be buried by the snow till next summer. But scavengers devouring or looting the corpses were more likely. But that was the future, their future, not the Immortals’.

Twenty-One began to deal the cards for the third game after shuffling the deck. The cards in Blood's magic must have been heavy, he was shaking slightly. The blood-soaked cards he had played were staining the deck and his mind. But he still had to play, he couldn't afford to know what happened if he lost.

Blood gulped and spoke, "Hit me." His words were hollow and scared. But Twenty-One dealt him his third card.

They each played their cards. Twenty-One held a pair of nines, one of clubs and another of hearts for a total of eighteen. But Blood presented his three-carded hoof. Eight, seven and six of a set of diamonds. A perfect score victory for Blood, a total of twenty-one.

Not that I felt too bad for Twenty-One. But for his allegedly favorite game, he sucked at it. Still, the pointless and cold way he disposed of his loyal soldiers was villainous. Speaking of which, he smiled warmly, before, just like I had once seen with Blood in the present time, he seemingly switched to his foreboding aura.

He opened his mouth and ordered their deaths with a number. "Twenty-one."

At what appeared to be random, the allotted number of suicides commenced. They put their forehoof on their chin, while their other forehoof held the back of their heads. Like synchronized swimming from Tartarus, they snapped their necks with a push and a twist before falling beside their brethren.

The fourth match had now begun, three straight victories for Blood. Twenty-One had lost three times in a row. But Twenty-One dealt him his cards, not a care in the world. Blood took his two cards, looking at them and seeing Twenty-One take another card.

"Hit me," Blood said, after looking back at his friends. They gave him a smile and a nod, an encouraging look on their face.

Twenty-One then drew another card. He sighed and showed he overshot twenty-one. I felt hopeful for Blood and the Immortals. That hope faded as I saw that this round was a draw. One with a twenty-four and the other hit twenty-six. Blood looked nervous, not knowing what would happen next.

There was a tense feeling in the air, but it melted when Twenty-One shook his head. "Round five." There was no punishment for a draw, but no reward either. That was if you could call death a reward in a game like this.

Three victories, one draw, and zero losses. The final game of blackjack had now begun. The cards were slowly dealt out, one after another. Blood took his cards, as Twenty-One held his two cards. Blood then asked for another card. Although his face turned pale when he got the card.

Twenty-One revealed his cards, scoring a soft seventeen. This would have been a great opportunity for Blood to have won. But his cards scored a total of twenty-three. Twenty-One smiled.

Both Blood Rose and Twenty-One Rose looked at their cards. Neither drew another card, simply showing their final cards to each other. Twenty-One had won. Blood was quite nervous as he looked to Twenty-One, waiting to see what the Immortals’ punishment would be.

Twenty-One looked to see he had lost fifty-six of his Ninety-Nine, only forty-three remaining. He then turned and looked at Blood and the other Immortals. Twenty-One cleared his throat, gathering the cards from Blood, before shuffling them once again.

Without a word, Twenty-One began to deal the cards once again. Before he spoke. "Practice is over, now we play for real." He smiled as he dealt the cards a sixth time.

Blood didn't even ask, as he knew it meant his friends were in danger. But there was no way the Immortals could fight the Rose clan. Even if the Ninety-Nine was cut in half. He simply played the game. Taking the cards, as did Twenty-One. They each played their two cards.

Blood held an ace of diamonds and a nine of hearts. But a twenty wasn't enough, for his opponent had blackjack. Ace of hearts and a king of spades meant he had won. I felt my heart drop as the horror of the unknown sunk into Blood's face. All eyes were on Twenty-One.

His aura and smile grew cold. "Which one do I get?" It was at that point the Ninety-Nine drew their blades.

Sydney, Straight Shot, and Red Cross all looked at each other before they began to fight over who got to give their life for their friends. But before even saying a word, the aura I knew Blood for washed over the land. They all quieted down as Blood stepped forward.

Without any fear, he spoke to Twenty-One, cutting right through his aura. "I'm the one you want, father." Their tension and presences clashed, almost visible in the air.

Without missing a beat, Twenty-One turned and began walking back to his wagon, taking the cards and case with himself. "Say your goodbyes." Some of the Ninety-Nine were collecting their dead at this point as well.

Blood sighed and swayed, seemingly exhausted by the confrontation. But he turned to his friends, for what I unfortunately knew was the last time. "I'm sorry, I knew this would happen someday." He looked almost ashamed.

Straight Shot went up and hugged Blood. "Why, why didn't you tell me you're the son of a warlord?" He was in tears.

Blood sighed, patting his friend. "It wasn't hard to figure out, I did eventually. The same hair, cutie mark type and the ability to project this aura." He stopped petting Straight when Red Cross and Sydney put a hoof on my dad's shoulders.

"Straight, it's just part of their traditions," Red Cross said, trying not to look at the crying earth pony.

Sydney gave Straight a somber hug before she sat next to both Straight and Blood. "He'll be safe and alive. Besides, we can just go free him later." It was illogical but comforting.

Blood at this point stared at Sydney. "I know Red kicks our ass whenever Straight or I hit on you. But I have to know--" Blood was cut off by a kiss from Sydney.

She blushed and looked away. "That's not an answer or anything. So you'll just have to find us one day to know." She looked over to the pouting Straight.

But he let out a chuckle, sensing he was killing the mood. "What about me?" he asked Sydney with a cheeky smile.

'Whack!'

Straight was knocked face-first into the snow by Red Cross's hoof. "Just because I can't beat up Blood for that now." He was very adamant with that part. "Doesn't mean I won't kick your ass for hitting on my baby sister." He stood on his hind legs as he flexed a hoof, his other on his bicep, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

Sydney giggled, then the whole group began to laugh. But a stomp from the Ninety-Nine, who had just finished collecting the dead, meant it was time to go. This was the end of the Immortals, but not the end of their friendship. Or so they thought.

Blood began to walk to the sky carriage but stopped and turned around, looking at Straight Shot. "Promise me, Straight, promise you won't do any drugs without me?" The words were heavy and filled with concern.

As was Straight's expression. I could tell he was an addict, just by the amount of discomfort this promise brought him. But he swallowed the distress and promised.

"I promise."

The memory faded slowly, the last image was Blood boarding the sky wagon. I may not have known him, but he wasn't that bad of a pony, at least in the past. But what I did know about the present was that Twenty-One was alive. But Blood was Sharp's father, so he did follow the Rose tradition. But that also didn't explain Silver Rose. I don't know, I was still missing too much information.

All I did know was that there was one more memory sphere. So in this void, I did the only thing I could do. I activated it.

Model 500 Colt, double-action revolver, 10.5-inch barrel, five-round cylinder. A stainless steel magnum revolver with ‘Luna’ written in blue fancy script along the barrel. There was also a counterbalance weighted frame attached to the underside of the barrel, and a midnight blue grip with a white crescent moon on it.

The weapon was topped with a reflex scope, a slight amber tint with a red dot in the center. The whole gun was finished with black chrome. A work of art shrouded in a dim white magic field. Smoke poured out of the barrel as the cylinder rotated around to it’s next loaded chamber.

The bored lightweight trigger was squeezed, pulling the hammer back. It was thanks to the slow time flow that I noticed it had the word 'Son' on it. Soon that hammer struck down on the back of the cartridge, sending lead down the bored barrel. A stream of burning gunpowder screamed behind it before exiting the gun.

I ended up following the solid lead round as it flew through the air. It spun slowly as the air compressed in front of it, before decompressing off it from the sides. It even hit a snowflake as it was falling. The delicate ice construct shattered into things too small for me to see.

The mass of supersonic lead hit a tree. It took the brunt of the round, its white horizontal bark barely breaking. The round embedded in the hole of the tree, a rich red-purple syrupy sap proceeding to bleed from the wound.

The trees themselves seemed familiar. I had seen them along the frozen bank on the lake I use to live at. I looked around, seeing red energy bolts flying between the trunks. Some flew off into the distance, others hit the trees, scorching them slightly. I couldn't see where either of the shooters were, even the revolver was now out of sight.

Suddenly without warning, I was pulled to a magic rifle. It was the one that Red Cross used. The barrel of the gun was segmented into an upper gap and lower part, reconnecting at the main ammo housing by a metal railing. Within the upper gap was a set of three mini magical conversion blocks. A small magical beam flowed through the centre between the three blocks.

Energy is drawn from the magic gem powder or crystal within the cartridge. From there it travels into the conversion block which changes the raw energy into a focused band width. The front of the converter then shoots it out. Depending on the muzzle, one could even have different magic beam trajectories.

But that was for the Equestrian standard magic rifle. This new model seemed to shrink and duplicate the converter housing and spin it for cooling. The older single housing model had a much slower fully automatic fire rate. Although the high fire rate and low recoil are great, the problem with it was that it would rapidly chew through ammo.

Below where the cylindrical spark battery went in was the name 'Red Cross' spray-painted on in red. The format was in the military-style of text. Above the weapon was a reflex sight, not unlike on the 'Luna' and 'Celestia' revolvers. Although Red Cross's gun had a blue tinted reflex sight with a red dot.

Energy weapons, while under the subject of weapons within my homeschool curriculum. I found them both fascinating and somewhat confusing. I never did get a chance to look at Sharp’s laser musket. I wasn’t sure, but if I had to theroiz, the rotation of the chambers and the cranking of the musket was the same principle of firing. Although the musket contained the shoots and condensed them into one large shot, where the automatic laser rifle simply fired.

Ten-millimeter rounds flew through the air next, breaking my theorizing on energy weapon mechanics. Although these rounds were different, their metallic bullets looked like they were smoking. A white heavy frost of cold air followed behind the round in its slipstream. When the round hit a tree, the sap didn't leak out. Instead, it appeared to be frozen solid.

Sydney's SMG, a weapon I would recognize easily. A bulky grey metallic ten-millimeter automatic pistol with a full auto and burst fire mode. A little worn down, a few scratches and scuff marks. But no rust. The only attachment that made it distinctive was the most likely extended fifty clip magazine and the name scratched into the metal crudely. 'Sydney.'

Everything was in slow motion. But for this next round, things were quite different. Time itself seemed to turn to a crawl as this round flew past the others. The pressure cone was much bigger than the regular supersonic rounds. It was probably hypersonic, which, according to an old-world science magazine, was fast.

Straight Shot's sniper rifle, I assumed. It was rather odd looking, just like the bulky ten millimetre SMG, this wasn't a firearm I knew from my limited education or books. The barrel was hexagonally shaped, with a smaller barrel protruding out the end. Some form of guide rails on its sides. At the tip of barrel was a heavy-duty ‘V’ shaped muzzle break, usually found on fifty caliber and up rifles.

Under the barrel was a long makeshift metal water bottle, connected to the barrel. Above the barrel was a long-range scope that would spring out and to the side, for battle saddle use, which it was in. The magazine was a half-open box design, holding ten rounds.

The back of the weapon seemed to have a bolt action chamber system that was made for a spark battery. The final part of the gun was the stock, which appeared to be a normal wooden stock from a sniper rifle. My dad's name was carved into one side, the other held his cutie mark.

I wasn't sure how the gun worked, but it wasn't something in mass production. The parts were high quality, albeit had that hoof-crafted look. It was something I had never seen before, not even remotely.

But to my delight, the gun fired. I got to watch in slow motion and up close as the bolt held the spark battery in place. The magical electrical energy flowed between the two rails within the hexagonal barrel. The metal round served as a bridge as the electromagnetic forces pushed the round. The friction caused massive heat build-up within the barrel.

Vents on the back sides of the barrel near the scope opened up and steam came screaming out. The front of the barrel pushed back onto the barrel housing moments after the round left, a fireball of dust and particles followed behind. This cooled the front of the barrel and shut the cooling vents. The pressure change then refilled the barrel as the water in the container was sucked through a one-way valve, acting as a heat sink for the bulk of the barrel.

I hadn't noticed before, but when the barrel retracted into itself it also released the bolt and ejected the now spent spark battery. There was a dial on the stock that read, 'semi-auto M2' and 'single fire M7.5'. It was set to M2, which if I had to guess, was Mach two. So it must be shooting ten rounds at Mach two with one spark battery, or one round at Mach seven for one spark battery.

I was forced to follow the new round as the battle saddle reloaded both the projectiles and the spark battery propellant. The round flew through a tree, straight through as the tree got a huge hole blown into its side. It wavered and threatened to fall.

It was only as I was being pulled away, did I notice some cloaked pony had been behind that tree. I unfortunately didn't have time to see their condition as I was back at the impressive weapon. Before it fired again, I noticed it was on 'M7.5'. I only caught a glimpse of the gun firing before the round dragged me away.

The round flew through the air so fast, it caught on fire. It was glowing white as it flew like a shooting star. The pressure wave for the projectile was bigger than my head. Whatever this round was made of or enchanted by must have been strong to not have burnt up yet.

Any snow in the pressure wave was melted by the heat on the wave and the trail behind it. The projectile barely missed a tree, but the wave hit the tree. The whole trunk flexed before splintering and breaking under the force. A near circular chunk of the tree just blown away as it fell from an indirect hit.

I saw the round and wave miss the cloaked unicorn with the revolver. But it ended up striking the frozen lake at about a ten degree angle. A column of water and ice shot up higher than the trees before it came showering down on the unicorn, soaking him as he had his back to a huge hole in the thick ice.

He dropped his gun as he panted bouts of warm breaths in the cold air. Pulling off his soaked cloak with a built-in bag. I finally got a look at him. It was a young unicorn, he had a stringy messy light aqua green mane, steel-silver eyes, and a light blue coat. His cutie mark was that of a single revolver, same as the Luna revolver, albeit less detailed.

The young pony threw his cloak forward, which pulled me away, finally allowing me to see where everypony was. Sydney was rather close, more than I had expected her to be. The cloak landed on her face, blocking her view of him. She was moving her SMG to shoot at the young unicorn blindly, still at close range. But he punched her in the face, she dropped the SMG. From there the pony pulled Sydney in front of him with a tug of his magic, the cloak now wrapped firmly around her head.

He held her before himself like a shield as the magic auto rifle opened fire at him in a short burst before stopping. All of the beams struck Sydney and she began to glow with red energy. Red Cross had stopped firing too late, dropped his gun, and slid forward on the ice as his horn glowed strongly.

When magical weapons energy synchronizes with a target, it causes a cascading cellular disintegration. The living organism's body is charged with the energy and it builds up with consecutive hits. When the total energy absorption hits critical mass, the life form is destroyed as the energy activates like a full-body energy meltdown.

The whole process takes seconds. There were also other things happening that I could see, now that I was free. Red Cross had dropped his gun, sliding towards Sydney's SMG as he kept his eyes on the struggling Sydney. Behind her One Barrel was trying to grip the gun in his magic. At first, I thought it was a two-way race, but then I noticed my dad.

His body twitched, seeming to tremble in the slow motion. That familiar mane, now a stringy mess. While patches of thinning coat showed his skin underneath. The eyes I once had, they were red and full of tears, while the pupils were dilated. But under those eyes were dark rings, from an obvious lack of sleep. Biting a blistered that ignored a runny nose, sweating in the snow, my father looked like a sick horse. But still, he finished reloading his strange rifle and was aiming to take a quick shot. He had missed at least twice before, now though, Sydney was unwillingly shielding One Barrel.

'Bang.'

Just by the combustion of the round, I could tell the projectile was a Mach seven point five shot. The bullet flew straight and true. It missed Sydney with both its body and wave. As it passed her, I saw Red Cross cast a spell on Sydney. A clear sphere appeared above her head.

Speaking of heads, the shot missed One Barrel's head too. But the pressure wave washed close enough to his horn. His magic glow went out like a candle, the round having indirectly broken his concentration. Blinded, Sydney jumped away, feeling she was free. While the magical sphere seemed to turn red and vanish.

The young unicorn soon shook off his magic failure, reigniting his magic and gripping his gun once more. But it was too late, he looked down to see Red Cross holding Sydney's SMG on the ground. He closed his eyes as Red Cross opened fire.

One Barrel was riddled with freezing ten-millimeter bullets, his body pushed back as he dropped his revolver.

His whole body began to freeze before it even hit the water. His freshly chilled corpse sank as he entered cryostat, not a drop of blood was left flowing. The only sign he was even there was his cloak, his bag, and his pistol.

Sydney pulled the cloak off her head and proceeded to throw it to the side. Some papers flew out of its pocket as it hit the ground. A ‘Wanted poster’, all with the same bounty, three thousand caps each. Wanted dead, every remaining Immortal member. Crimes include murder, thief, arson, and torture of both mares and younglings. There were clear artistic renderings of Straight Shot, Sydney and Red Cross, along with their cutie marks. There were also full descriptions on their looks and defining features. These posters branded them wanted criminals in the Rose territory.

With that, the memory began to fade slowly. It all made sense. What destroyed the Immortals and why Twin Barrel was wanted by Blood. Although the only answer I had left was, why did they have a wanted poster?

I took a deep breath, trying to take in all that I had learned. But when I opened my eyes, I saw that there was a small orb in the distance. I glared at it, before noticing it was approaching me, rather fast. I tried to move, but it was quicker.

I tried to dodge it, but it just kept pace with me. No, that was wrong, it was gaining on me. I tried to outmaneuver it in the void. But every move I tried, it simply copied or outperformed. So as a last-ditch effort, I slammed on the air breaks using my wings, hoping it wanted to play chicken.

It slammed into my gut, causing me to gasp for air. As I did, the sphere of what appeared to be dark faces sunk into me. My wings began to burn up and catch on fire before they were cremated to the bone. But I didn't scream, no I wasn't in pain. I was simply remembering the missing chapter in my life. What Sharp did and was responsible for. The long drag.

Author's Note

Man, life sure did get busy. Haven't uploaded in over a year. The first thing to come back is a midway part before the story enters its next arch.

Edited by the amazing, awesome and wonderful:
https://www.fimfiction.net/user/275628/EverfreePony