Story Premises

You think you know pain? You think you can even register agony? Consider this story before putting yourself in a position that of which you can judge me in.

Living in a post apocalyptic world doesn't have many upsides. Water's poisoned, dirt's dormant of its rich properties of growth, sky's usually a sick orange and the entire damn place might as well be a war zone. Walk six feet and there's another pony with a gun to your head. The place disgusts me, and the worst of it is that there's no escaping it. You can can hide inside all you want, you'll just starve, or get shot up by a passing group of raiders.  The latter was about to occur to me. You can call me Blitz, and this is a smaller portion of my larger story.

There was only two temperatures in the wasteland, Scorching Hot and Freezing Cold. Wasn't much variation between the two, during the day the heat burned you alive, and during the night you'd die without some form of heavy clothing or shelter. Even when you have both, its still about the equivalent of walking into a meat freezer. Sitting by a campfire, in a heavy leather duster, I began to shiver. The campfire in front of my did a fine job of heating me up from the front, but my back was basically a slab of ice. Didn't bother me much. Happens a lot, and it'll happen more in the future.  Sitting inside of a torn-down roadside shanty gave me some form of protection from the light, icy winds, but not enough to stop me from shivering everyone once and a while. Sitting on my back legs, I inched closer to the fire. The more heat the better, just had to be sure not to get close enough to the point of burning myself. Having relaxed at said campfire for quite a few hours of peace, I wasn't surprised to hear a loud 'CRACK!' followed by a few, rather loud hushes. I sighed, thinking to myself how many times i'd been through this. Using my magic, I drew a silver .44, etched with pristine detail. Not even turning myself, the gun rotated and fired four shots in the direction of the wall behind me. Three shrieks of pain followed, then replaced by another shout. Shit, I had missed one. Turning to my side, I stared down the sorry scrape of an equine behind me. Skinny, frail, their bones decorated his hips and chest as if they hadn't eaten in weeks.  They gasped in fear, as most anyone would after seeing my mask. I cocked my head to the side, and smiled underneath the metal covering. Two thoughts were going through my mind as if they were fire, spreading and warming up. Kneecap? Skull? Taking my time to decide, the poor thing turned tail. After all, all it had was a small knife. Wouldn't even get close if I had decided to take a shot early. As they ran at a steady pace, I had made my decision when they had ran around thirty feet out. Kneecap. Kneecap will do. I levitated the gun up to my right eye, and fired. The figure in the distance crumbled onto the ground, screaming even louder than it had before. I stared to the mountains, only to see the peak of the sun rising.  The air had already been ridden of the chill, and i was suddenly aware of how long that ordeal lasted. I sighed, walked over to the squealing thing on the floor. At this point, it couldn't even be considered a pony. I wished I could say something clever as I put my sixth bullet into its skull, but after all. It'd be pretty hard for a mute to talk over something like that, wouldn't it?