Sunset Shimmer squinted at the glass, marveling at the wild mess of locks, looking less like flowing strips of bacon and more like angular stalactites on a quest to pop the nearest unsuspecting tire. She didn’t even know what angles she could have slept in to produce such a pointy, gravity-defying bedhead. Briefly, she wondered what her more uppity shipmates would do if she just strode on the ship like this, and if she could decapitate them with her hair before they inevitably started yelling.
She chuckled at that, as she picked up her comb. The teeth held fast to a few knots, forcing Sunset to show it who was boss. She yanked the comb past the knot three times for good measure until it glided easily through the strands. She rubbed at the sore spots in her scalp before gathering her hair into a perfect oval atop her head, the motions memorized by the deft hands. She grabbed a can of hair spray and held her breath. It always made her sick with its flowery toxins but she couldn’t deny it’s results. It was the only brand she didn’t have to reapply in the middle of the day. That was what she told herself as her body attempted to hack up her lung. She swiped at her nose in an attempt to clear it from the pervasive scent. As a finishing touch, she picked up her thick, military-issued glasses and faced the mirror.
With absolutely no shame about tooting her own horn, Sunset knew she was a treat for the eyes. The many admirers gathered since she began her plummet to hormonal instability had solidified that fact, but the straight-laced angles and precision of a uniform never suited her.
“Ugh, gross,” she muttered, dejected with the severe appearance that stared back at her. Her displeasure only grew when she pressed the pixel-camouflage hat to her head. It clashed painfully with...everything.
It was almost poetic how the variants of blue—the staple for her country’s Navy and point of pride for the ones that serve—collided with her skin and hair. When she thought about it, the entire military life never suited her.
She grew up with freedom as constant as growing fingernails. All the dreary, little orphan homes stuffed to the brim with lost children had made it easy to slip away from consideration, especially since she liked to keep to herself anyway. As long as she never pressed too hard, she knew how to blend, how to maximize her independence. If she wanted to stay out late, she would stay out late. If she didn’t want to go to school, she didn’t go to school. The ones that tried to take that precious commodity was met with cold rebellion. The likes of which was so calculating and spectacular, she’d manage to disqualify a few of them from taking in foster children all together. Those events only happened to the most stubborn of characters. A lot of caretakers would just throw her back into the system to be reshuffled. The majority just didn’t bother. So many faces and so many goodbyes, not a lot of them were memorable.
A memory of tri-colored hair, the pinks, greens, and blues flowing across the winds and an inviting smile drifted through her mind. Maybe there was one woman she remembered.
After her first stint of being a runaway, she was found behind a dumpster, cold and crying. The details escape her but Sunset remembered the woman coaxing her from hysteria. She had been kind and Sunset had been naive, a child that still sought attention. It was a wonderful month until she learned very quickly how fantasies of belonging could be dashed if you said them too loud. It was best to keep things, especially people, as far as you can throw them.
Sunset shook herself out of her thoughts. She’d gotten lost in her daydream and the clock was reading dangerously close to work time.
They were deploying today and she needed to get to the loading docs. Navy life was strict and unforgiving when it came to the schedule of the fleet. Never mind that she was one of their most talented technicians—climbing the ranks, even before she’d even touched her first real assignment—she wasn't eager to test that leverage with her superiors. She’d seen what Chrysalis could do when pushed, and the snippy comments generously provided weren’t even part of that particular iceberg.
It wasn’t a life that she would have predicted for herself when she was vandalizing walls or sneaking around alleyways, and if she was truthful with herself, she hated every minute. At the best of times, it was monotonous—work here, salute there, attend that, remember this—at the worst, it was tiring—the 12 hours on, 12 hours off schedule that usually preceded deployments were arduous—but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The pay was good and the job was secure. She couldn’t say they hadn’t taken care of her after her aimless year of stumbling through being an "adult". Anything was better then that hungry, homeless year.
Sunset decided to skip breakfast. Her belly was too full with negative memories. Instead she slung her fully packed duffle over her shoulder as she jogged out the door. She should have enough time to get there before everyone was ready to depart.
As she turned from dead-bolting her door, she was surprised to see the nervous figure of high schools’ past, sporting a very unnatural, very forced smile.
“Hi.” It began.
Sunset blinked, processing the sight. Bright teal eyes. Long locks of red and yellow. Amber skin. A lanky figure.
Sunset blinked again. The figure’s smile dropped.
And with another, final blink, the synapses that strained with early morning fatigue came to a resounding conclusion.
No.
Sunset rushed past her. “God, I better hurry before I’m late.” She stated.
“Wait.” The young woman began chasing her, but still she remained ignored. “Please! I need your help. I don’t have anyone else to turn to.”
“Not my problem,” Sunset intoned, “not interested, and definitely not getting involved.”
She jogged to her motorcycle, cursing herself for not investing in another mode of transport. It would have been so much easier to toss her bag into a car and speed away. Instead, she had to stop and secure her load with bungee cords, allowing ample time for the young woman to catch up to her.
“Aren’t you even a little curious as to who I am or why I even look like you?”
Sunset glared. “That would require me to get involved, wouldn’t it?” She gave a slight push, just enough to make the young woman stumble. “Plus, it’s kinda obvious why we look alike.”
“It is?” The young woman asked.
Sunset didn’t even look at her, electing to continue securing her duffle. It wouldn't do to cause an accident via loose underwear impeding someone's windshield. “Going on the assumption that you aren’t a pod person or doppelgänger, I’m going to ask; Did they keep you or did they do to you the same thing they did me?”
The young woman tilted her head in contemplation. “You think I’m your sister,” she concluded in a whisper, quiet so that Sunset didn't hear.
Her task completed, Sunset crossed her arms as she turned to face the younger woman. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just another kid on the street.”
With a huff, the young woman placed herself squarely between the handlebars, impeding Sunset’s path. Her face didn’t know if she should look imploring or defiant as she straddled the front wheel. “You have to hear me out.”
“The only thing I have to do is run you over, because I have to get going. And, as I said, not interested, not getting involved, and not my problem.”
“I can make me your problem.” The young woman growled menacingly.
Sunset Shimmer’s brow raised as her lips curled into an amused smirk. “Oh, will you? How are you planning to do that?”
Gripping the handlebars tightly, a noticeable distress began painting the young woman’s features in thick brush strokes. Each second caused the young woman's face to warp until Sunset Shimmer could taste the flavor of desperation.
Against her better judgement, she found herself softening. She gave a heavy sigh. “Look, kid, I don’t know what your situation is, or where you came from, but I suggest you go back. You won’t find help here.”
“I can’t go back.” The young woman replied, her voice an equal mix of bitter anger and a more bitter, but slightly hidden, sadness.
Sunset knew this tone more intimately than her morning coffee. “I see,” she stated, empathetic pain wearing down her carefully constructed aloofness. She looked away. “Kicked out, huh?”
The young woman’s back straightened as she scowled. Her jaw clenched and unclenched as she worked through phrases in her head, trying to string them together in a way that could convey her thoughts. Eventually, she looked up, shoulders slumping in defeat. She nodded with her lips firmly shut.
“Yeah, been there.” Sunset took a slow breath and sighed. “Foster family? Orphanage? Estranged adoptive parents?”
“All of the above.” She whispered.
“There really isn’t anyone else that can help you?”
The young woman shook her head again. “You’re the closest thing I have to family, and I’m not exactly good at making friends.”
Sunset rubbed the back of her neck. “There’s more to being family than just being related. You don’t even know me and I sure as heck don’t know you.”
“I think you know me better than you think you do.”
A vein of irritation popped and pulsed on Sunset's head. "What? Because our parents suck? Because we were both kicked to the curb? Or because we're both sad little orphans?"
"All of the above." The young woman crossed her arms in a perfect imitation of Sunset’s previous pose.
Sunset thought about that for a second. "Alright. I'll admit you have some grit. Still not enough of a reason for me to stick my neck out for you."
The young woman bit her lip. "I know it isn’t."
Sunset allowed the younger woman to ruminate in her thoughts for a few seconds, before rolling her eyes. "Well, good luck, kid." She donned her helmet as she swung her leg over the frame of her motorcycle.
The young woman immediately placed her hands back on the handlebars. Sunset groaned and lifted her visor. "The answer is no. Okay?"
"Please! I've been living in a high school. I've been sleeping on books. I've been stealing food from the cafeteria. I don't have anything. The only other pon—person that cared about what happened to me, kicked me out. I just need a place to sleep. I'm already so lost about everything and I… I just need a place where I can at least sleep."
Sunset was quiet as several details came into focus. Her skin was dry and her lips were cracked. Despite being brushed, her hair looked brittle and thin. What was dismissed as lanky, drew her eyes to the pronounced hollow in her cheeks. A weary look seemed to be permanently etched into the slightly sunken eyes. She could see the signs of someone without a proper bed or proper nutrition. She knew the look of someone on the run. The image looked back at her from a mirror enough times to have it permanently ingrained in her memory.
Sunset let out another groan, long and irritated. She didn't like this. Too many memories were coming back to her, ones that she'd buried, and for good reason. She did know this girl better than she thought. In actuality, she knew this girl too well.
"I still think you should go back," Sunset muttered, a last ditch effort to rid herself of this awkward situation.
The young woman met her eyes with a challenge. "Is that what you did?"
This was too much, too fast, too early. She didn't even have coffee this morning. Not to mention, she was on a time crunch. No doubt she would be late, and still this girl was impeding her. Even with her weakened state, the girl's stance was strong. At this point, there was only two options, and one of them involved second degree murder.
She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I’m definitely going to regret this as soon as I leave, but I can tell that you aren't going anywhere.” Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out the key to her apartment and presented it to the young woman. “I’m going to be gone for a while and I need someone to watch my house.” She began, hesitantly. “I can let you do it.”
The young woman’s head sprung up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”
Sunset’s face scrunched, fighting to push the words out of her mouth. “Really.”
The young woman’s eyes lit up as she gingerly took the key, looking to all the world like she’d just received a cup of golden ambrosia.
Sunset still didn’t feel wholly comfortable with the arrangement, but the innocent-bystander card had been plucked from her hands before she even knew she was playing the game. The young woman had made good on her threat. Sunset felt it in her gut as she looked at the uncanny image of her past. This girl had made herself Sunset's problem.
Sunset reached up to firmly grab the smaller fist in her hand. “Though, I should warn you,” she began, “if anything happens to my stuff or my house, you won’t have to worry about being on the run anymore. The next home you’ll have will be in a juvenile detention center. You get me?”
The young woman nodded her head, stepping back with a gulp.
Sunset nodded back, kicking her motorcycle to life.
Holding the key to her chest, the young woman watched Sunset rumble away.
As Sunset began the familiar task of rushing to work, she tried hard not to think of how much trouble she would be in when she got to the landing docs, or how she’d given a complete stranger access to her home, or even how she didn’t even get the stranger’s name.
Her mind wandered to tri-colored hair. At least there was one kid that wouldn’t be homeless tonight.
