Wild Wild Westria

“Equestria... A once peaceful land where the ideals of friendship and tolerance were taught nearly as soon as you sprung up from your mother.
And the system worked to.
Happy ponies, Happy families, Whole happy societies.
And then came the age of the Firearm. It seemed like a good idea at first, Yeah?
Bad guy comes along, Threatens our peaceful way of life, And gets a steamin’ hot slug of justice.” The pony stopped, Looking down with a deeply remorseful expression, Hidden by his ragged cowboy hat, And the collar of his duster. The flames making what was illuminated of the small area of light dance and flicker, making it hard to make out any sort of emotion on the stallion’s face anyway. “S-…” I began, Nervous to become an annoyance to the stallion. It’s not like I was a foal or anything, But it sounded like I was trying to get him to tell me a bed time story. “Yeah… The New system work’t jus’ fine. Armies of completely clueless changlings put down in mere minutes. Poor bastards thought we were shootin’ lightning from poles…” Again, A hard remorseful look from the experienced stallion, Falling silent for a short moment. “Then… Well. Everypony forgot about friendship… The only reason anyone remembered about Kindness ‘n’ all that was because of the mane 6’s fancy rainbow take-down. But clearin’ out all the bad became so quick, and routine… There was no lesson In it.” Another pause, eyes still locked on the Stallion I tilted my head back slightly, Shaking out my mane, Attentively listening. “So…” He continued. “Friendship faded out. And gave way to justice in the hooves of whoever wasn’t dead at the end of the day.” Another long silence, It was unbearable. I couldn’t stand how awkward it was tagging along with this old timer. Everything about him was rugged and dusty. But, Well… I had no idea how to work a weapon, And The only skill I loosely possessed was the innate ability to say “Please?” And “Thank you!” Very convincingly. Everypony in all of Equestria --Or atleast of every part of Equestria I’ve seen -- was at eachother’s throats with whatever Spell, Sword, Or Gun they had at their disposal, Just to make it through the day. My life expectancy, From how I could figure was only just above “Zilch” Because I could beg for my life quite well! Or maybe Im just not imposing enough to waste a bullet on.
“Anyway, Kid… Here’s how it works. Pegasi aren’t your friendly deliverymen, Or your busy little weather-bugs now. Their scary as all put-out. Hell, I hate the sight of wings… Those bastards can just soar in, Fill you with lead, And fly off. Quick as can be too. Earth ponies… Well, they’re the brawns. Knives, Hammers, Broken bottles, You know. Anything that fits in their mouth. An’ then theres those fu-“ He caught the harsh language at his lips, Swallowing back the words just in time to avoid hurting any feelings. “Uh… yeah… Those darn Unicorns are the worst… Uh, No offence, Kid.” I didn’t care. That thing on my head was useless to me anyway. I nodded silently, Showing my apathy to the inadvertent insult. This got me a raised eyebrow and suspicious look. “Y’ Don’t talk much… Do Yuh’?” I didn’t realize I wasn’t talking, I shook my head slightly, Still looking at the stallion, Opening my mouth to apologize. He raised a hoof, Stopping my words before they could leave my mouth. “Naw’ T’aint a bad thing. I found out the hard way Talkin’ too much is bad for your health out here.” I shut my mouth, Acknowledging the advice with a soft nod. “Hehe… That’s the spirit.” He chuckled. “Alright. Now, Get to bed, uhh…” I stared blankly at him, unsure why he just stopped. “Yer’ Name, Kid. You *Do* Have a name, Right?” “Oh..! Perfect—Uhm. Pitch Perfect…” The words stumbled out of my mouth like a trainwreck. I couldn’t even talk properly. “Pitch… Perfect. Izzat’… A singin’ kinda name?” “Uhm… Yessir.” “Well yuh’ couldn’t ‘uh been that good at it… Your flank is still blank.” I looked down at my flank, Lowering my head lightly in the stomach wrenching cocktail of embarrassment and self-loathing. “Now- Hey. Don’t get all sour on me just cause you had’nt found your talent. It’ll come. Just now that everything’s all crazy, It might be later rather than sooner.” “Yeah…”
Another long awkward silence, The only noise was the cracking of tinder in the fire. “Well, In any case. You need your sleep.” I nodded, Laying my head down on the ragged suitcase I was toting around, And let sleep envelope me.
******
Everything was hazy and nonsensical. A loud crack, And a scream. I recognized the location, I was in my room, I looked down at my hooves, I tried to move, And everything around me evaporated at my touch like smoke. “Fuck, No…Nononono!” It was happening again. “This dream… Why always this dream?!” It wasn’t like normal dreams, I could pretty much control my actions completely, But In any other setting, It would have looked crazy. A young stallion trotting about his room angrily, Talking about a dream. It’s been the same dream I’ve been having since the actual thing happened. I gave a soft whimper, Looking at my door in fright. I’d experienced the dream enough times to know what would happen if I even got near it. I looked about my room for a weapon to face the hell waiting behind the door. The closest thing I could find… My microphone stand? I pathetically levitated my microphone stand close infront of me. I knew even if I raised hell in my dream, It wouldn’t change anything… But I felt compelled not to be a pussy… At least not in my own damn subconscious. I was ready. Every muscle in my body was prepared for battle. I turned around to buck my door open, quickly turning and stamping out into the foyer.
My own imiagination had made me buffer than the biggest weight lifter in all of Equestria. I turned the corner into the living room, just in time to watch helplessly as a band of dirty, Dusty ponies blew my parents away. Mother was already gone. Father was reasoning with the bandits to spare me and my sister. His head low, Looking at them past the barrel of one of those new “Gun” things. There was a loud snap, And a flash of light. It looked like what the bandit was holding had exploded, Right in my father’s face. Father’s expression went blank, He stared forward, The wall and floor behind him stained a deep red. I still didn’t understand. Then, He slumped down, Falling out of sight, Vanishing into a plume of ash. I looked back down at myself, and all the courage and false muscle my imagination had fabricated was gone. The dream- yet again- Was having it’s way with me. The murders’ faces became massive, Spinning around me and shouting tauntingly. “Look at the little sissy!” “Hahaha! Is he cryin’?!” “Couldn’t save daddy Rich could you?” I tried to cover my head, Put my hooves over my ears, Something to drown out the booming voices of my subconscious, And then suddenly it was all gone. I struggled to comprehend where I was now. “Kid--… Pitch. Wake up. Your havin’ uh’ night terror.” I looked at the stallion dumbly “Wh-… What? Where—“ This wasn’t my bedroom, But… He wasn’t one of the murderers-- “Oh… It was a dream” “’It was a dream’, Yeah, Sure sounded like one hell of a dream! You were goin’ off screamin’ an’ shit!” I lowered my head some and looked away. “Geeze, Ki– Fuck, Sorry. Pitch.” He swore, Seeming to make a point to remember my name. “Listen, it’s good you woke up anyway… It’s about time to move. And now that you went off like a foghorn we need to skidattle anywho before some curious bandits come along.” I nodded some, licking my dry maw and sniffing a bit as I stood up. Shaking out my mane once more before levitating my suitcase up on it’s wheels. About the best I could do magic wise.
***************
Soon we were walk—No. *I* was following, and *He* was leading.—to a city he said we could purchase supplies, our hooves shuffled over the sun bleached sand. The path seemed to go on forever. And the sun beating down on my back didn’t help. I had only a satin suit vest and some cufflinks around my forehooves. The Old-timer had on a 10-gallon hat and a duster, Perfect for surviving the elements. I must have looked like an idiot. But then I saw it. A tiny speck on the horizon, The town! We were close to what I expected would be a rustic and old Appalosian style city. Everything looked like Appaloosa, Now. Since the people with the most firepower were Appaloosians, They took everything else over. And with nopony to tend to the land, All the green made way to sand. Therefore the Appaloosian culture spread. I wasn’t told this by that old-timer, I just figured it from what I did know. And what logic would dictate. “—Are you even listenin’?” My train of thought was killed by the experienced Stallion holding up a firearm. Not pointed at me—thankfully – But displaying it. He gestured at the bit with one hoof, putting it into his mouth, And showing how to operate it. I cringed as he used his tongue to pull back the trigger, Deathly afraid of the sound it would make. But when a harmless click was all that sounded out, I relaxed. “But you, Well. Yer’ a unicorn. You can work one of these without use’in your mouth. Or your hooves.” We finaly reached the outskirts of the city. A quaint little city, Bustling like a somewhat functioning place of relatively sane ponies. I looked up to see an arch, With a shot up welcome sign reading “Welcome to Gunsmoke!” “Alright, K—Pitch. The ponies here aren’t all ‘happy-wappy’ and shit. They’re trying to stay alive. And if anything looks like it could be a threat to that cause, They’ll kill it. S’ I A’int givin’ you a gun. Not just yet. I don’t want you accidentaly goin’ an’ firin’ it off.” “Yes, sir.” I said simply. The yellow coated Stallion nodded with a slight smirk. “Good man.” Come to think of it I hadn’t seen very many features of him through his hat and that duster that he wore. “Come with me, Pitch. First thing a Stallion needs…” I followed beside him, eager to soak up what knowledge he had for me. “Some good ole’ Fasioned Hard Cider!” I gave a slight groan at the stallion’s choice of priorities, But followed him closely still. He might have been a bit off, But he was the one thing keeping me from being just some bleached boney pile the buzzards picked dry. We walked into the bar, The stallion keeping his head low, With me following closely by. It was the liveliest place I’ve seen in a long time, Since all the color in the world was practicaly sucked dry by the drought and the sand storms. A player piano happily rang out a jaunty rustic tune, Rugged ponyfolk gathered at tables, Laughing and playing card games. Drinking and enjoying their day. This didn’t look or sound how The old-timer said it was. Maybe I just invisioned it to be much worse.
The Stallion silently got on his hind legs, putting his hooves up on the bar. I followed suit, Standing next to him silently, Looking around to admire the environment and the feel. I guess it was kinda nice. When my eye caught something worth a much better description than “Nice” A few Mares, Dolled up in makeup and dresses, Actualy surprisingly intricate were staring right at me over fans they were levitating. One of them let out a giggle behind her fan. I took a look back at the old-timer, supposing he wouldn’t care if I went over and introduced myself, But I was quickly stopped by The Stallion, Who hooked an foreleg around me before I could sneak off
“You couldn’t afford them Mares, Pitch.” He said simply. Afford…? “Wait… you mean they weren’t just admiring me…?” “Nope.” I looked back at the bar and exhaled a bit. “Well that’s disappointing.” “Your too young for them anywho, Small fry. They A’int exactly the kinda gal’s yuh’ take home to introduce to yer’ paren—“ He stopped short, And swore under his breath. “Fuck… Sorry. I A’int very good with the whole ‘Conversation’ thing…” I didn’t answer. The Stallion tapped the bottom of his hoove to the bar, Signaling for a drink. Any hint of camaraderie we’d built up had just shot it’self in the hoof.
***********************

I must have looked so melancholy. I was in the middle of a Cheery little spot, and all I could do was stare at the reflections on the glass and think of my dead family. It’d been so long… I don’t even remember my mother’s name… My dad’s name was… Stinkin’…Maybe, Dirty Rich? But I remember my sister’s name. Only because she was a drop dead bitch. Diamond Tiara. The physical embodiment of why I only had one good friend. Because any time I opened my mouth to speak, She had a whitty little insult or correction on my grammar. How the hell was she so damn mean…?
Well, Doesn’t matter now. Her room was just a charred burned carcass of what a room should like by the time the Murderer’s were through. “Boyyyyy-howdy!” I heard the old-timer say in a festive manner, Throwing off his hat into the air. Revealing his face finaly, Which was flush with drunken influence. It was only then that I noticed he had a massive pyramid stack of shot glasses, Upturned to show them being finished. “Hey, Uh… Old-timer… Y’alright?” “’Course I’m alrigh’…! Ah’m better thn’ alrigh’, Bitch!” I shook off the harsh language, Assuming that the Insult was just him slurring over my name. “You might have had a little bit too much to drink, there, Old-timer. Maybe we should go.” “No way in Celestia’s sky am I leavin, this place!” He turned, his hooves thrown up festively, A drunkenly happy smirk about his face, Looking at the crowd of ponyfolk going about their drinking behind him. Suddenly the Player piano stopped, Knocked into by a terrified looking Pony. Nopony was looking at the drunken idiot parading about at the bar. The old-timer’s smile was shot down quickly, Staring across the wide open bar doors at a sight that made him sober up in a hurry, For reasons I didn’t know. It was a Massive buffalo, A dog, Wearing a collar glistening with gems, standing on it’s hind legs and that seemed to have some sort of cognate thought, And a rugged looking earth Pony. I didn’t understand what was happening, But the sight of them made the seemingly fearless Stallion whip back around, Forcing his hat back onto his head, Far over his face. “Who are they…?” I asked, Looking back over my shoulder at the slowly approaching group of thugs. I wasn’t stupid, I knew they were probably assholes, But The old-timer was trying to hide his identity from them. “Nooo Fuckin’ Way…” The Buffalo Came up to the bar, Getting on his own Hind legs (A silly sight to see such small legs hold up a massive lumbering beast as that) And leaning against the bar. “Blabbermouth Braeburn?! Is that you…?!” He reached out a hoof, Shoving him casualy. “Blabbermouth. Say somthin’. I *Know* It’s you.” I looked to the Stallion for an answer. “You know these guys…?” Nothing. “Hey Blabbermouth, what the f-“The buffalo said, Interrupted by Braeburn who had thrown his duster off, Revealing a silver firearm. Though this one was long, Menacing with two tips, He was (Holding) It, right up to the maw of the much taller buffalo. His hoof in a strap on the side of the Gun to keep it in place. “All I have to do is put pressure on this thing with my hoof, And You’ll be a Fine red mist.” The crowd gasped as they watched. Stumbling and nervous the other two thugs drew steel, Trained on The Old-timer shakingly. “Hey, Hey… C’mon. I was jus’ Sayin’ hi for old times! I-I was one of the ones who actualy liked when you wouldn’t shut your mouth!” “You just keep diggin’ yerself deeper…” The Old-timer said, Pushing the barrels against the (Chin) Of the Buffalo. “You’d better let him go, Brae’!” The dog chimed in, Holding up a pistol uneasily. He had aposables so he could do so without use of his mouth, However the Earth pony with them did not. “Doh’ ‘oo eh ae-urn’!” He said, Roughly translated from “Stuff in mouth” to english it would have probably been “Don’t do it, Braeburn!”
I noticed braeburn had a strap around his mid-section holstering another pistol, And that for whatever reason the “Diamond” dog stupidly had more 3 pistols on his person. Quickly sliding both of the firearms from their holsters, I pointed one at the standing dog thing, And the other at the earth pony. The dog aimed at me, The earth pony keeping trained on Braeburn.
The situation was tense and silent. Every eye in the bar was trained on the cluster of sweating nervous gunslingers. If they weren’t all brandishing guns it would have looked like they were playing a stareing game. “It sss-eemsss we’ve reached an impassss” The diamond dog said With a lisp. “If either of you moves I’ll fill yuh’ with holes…” I said, Suprisingly steadfast. I didn’t stumble over my words, And I showed no weakness. “Kid, You cant use’uh gun…” Braeburn said, Looking back at me with rosey red cheeks. I could only stare, Eyes wide, Mouth agape. Nearly seething with anger that he would wruin my guise and probably the only thing keeping him alive. “Uh, *YEAH* But they didn’t know that!” the earth pony and the dog looked at eachother and laughed, The diamond dog threw his head back, laughing as hard as he could, The gun clattering from the Earth pony’s mouth as he begun howling with laughter. Their loss of attention was quickly met with a hoof to their faces, Braeburn using his free forehoof to steady himself as he bucked their lights out, The two of them falling like a saddlebag stuffed with rocks. The buffalo looked at his fallen posse and back at Braeburn “If you push that trigger, You have to deal with the whole gang!” “Yu-huh..?” Braeburn lowered his gun, Turning around “Then ah’ gesh ah’d better not kill yuh!” The buffalo gave a small grin as he quickly pulled his own firearm, Aiming it at the much smaller Braeburn, Only to recive a shattering blow to the leg from one of Braeburns Bucks, Making The buffalo thunder into the ground, Face first. I saw it, But didn’t even have time to speak to warn him! “Shit, Old-timer…” “Old-timer…? I A’int ol-“ Our banter was cut short by the sound of shouting in the street outside of the bar. “Buckshot Braeburn!” A voice called mockingly. “Come on out here, S’ I can kill yuh’ like the whinny little colt you are!” Anyone who was in the bar before was already gone, and to my deep dismay, All of my belongings as well. “Fuck…”I wasn’t really one for swearing, but I couldn’t really think of anything creative to describe my emotions at that particular moment. I was about to die in a hail of red hot lead with some drunk who used to run in a gang, And officialy owned nothing accept two pistols I didn’t know how to work. So I stuck with “Fuck”.