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                     Alumni After All                      
                      -by Fireflower-                      
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                        Monochrome                         
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Author's Note
My name is Fireflower and welcome to the fourth installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic that, like its predecessor and the one prior, is Mature and goes beyond the typical oneshots I had made before, using canon characters as human beings instead of their normal forms: as such, I have decided to focus on a few of the main characters including some who are original and/or based on other characters from different medias; nevertheless, this story will be dealing with heavy subject matters unsuitable for certain readers so be warned.
As always, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; however, this concept of my fanfic alone belongs to me so I will say this line one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.
Lastly, let me also say I hope you enjoy this chapter now and stay tuned for future chapters later on; besides, we've a long way to go before you can meet the rest of them.
Monochrome
Darkness and light in and of themselves were only two separate but equal opposites of one another, both capable of trading places instantly and otherwise whenever worlds collide and turn. Within them, many of its observers were more than willing to take note of the similarities and differences amidst them by sheer qualities and quantities alike almost immediately in due time. At long last would the lifeforms dwelling out amongst one another pick a side of their own desire at any given time whatsoever and stick with knowledge gained and lost on the way to the end.
Of the many civilizations where they had congregated upon construction, there was but a lone city bearing witness to the rising sun with absolutely no clouds within sight to obscure its light. Although there were towering behemoths already ruling and governing their very own landscape, their numbers were small compared to their shorter counterparts that huddled around themselves. Some vehicles were found to be running about all sorts of solid terrain with the sights and sounds contributing to its atmosphere; of course, their collective presence was inconsequential to a fault. In and out of the area was countless vegetation within the vicinity, ranging from potted plants to large trees with the fruit hanging from them to provide nourishment for its potential consumers. Scores of pedestrians were also discovered already traveling to and from places within their own proximity, looking for and/or having found something on their hearts and minds in the very least.
Out of the many structures within the fair city, there was but only one which had stood out and about: it was a moderately sized building, standing proud yet with a smidgen of dignity within. While predominantly adorned with a grayscale shell, they had shades and hues crying out with tears of a rainbow splattered about with reckless abandonment to the point of painting pictures. Imprinted upon its stony lonesome form were but lines of crystalline glass all plastered about in an orderly fashion, each totaling up to seven rows filled to the brim with neatness and the like. Nestling at the very uppermost region, some triangular polyhedrons were already pointing up to the firmament hovering over, its poles sticking out and about for the little flags to wave around. Galleries consisting only mere means of transportation were found to be within the residential complex, varying in different shapes and sizes imaginable yet completely inoperable so to speak.
Anyways, one of the rays of sunlight had managed to go and pierce on throughout the looking glass deep within its framework, illuminating a rather diminutive area with some distinctiveness. In that very location thereof, it had instantaneously stopped itself against a lone singular wall; as a result, its color was sparkling about in a faint hue of yellow with a hint of silver accents too. Beyond the small space that had lit up in the process, there had remained an entire area already exposed to light, thanks to the ceiling fan above it spinning about with its wooden panels at once. In what had seemed to be devoid of life, the whole place was decorated with a set of furniture: a green chair lay in the middle while accompanied by a pair of couches sharing the same corner. Locked up in front, a lone rectangular machine was cloaked in blackness with its screen already showing all sorts of colorful images in various shades and tones comprehendible without sound. Edging right underneath was a beige dresser holding up more items than the adjacent wall itself: a quadrangular device in green and a series of pictures with a lone candle colored in a sky blue. Nonetheless, there were a few other windows to the outside world beyond the single area where telecommunications had been faintly codominant despite being hidden by the vermilion blinds. Entering the otherwise naked space was a deep aroma cloaking the wispy smoke, reeking of the savory goodness telling of a complete breakfast which loomed right over the ligneous flooring.
“D–D–D–D–Dis is KDCR – Dodge City Radio vilkommen you to another glorioushly zunny day; I’m your host, Vice Croix here vid de morning news…!” the voice blared from the green machine, emptying itself throughout the very room as its audio bled across the speaker with its high quality rips of tone.
It was also at this very moment in time some booming but brief footsteps had made their way, belonging to another voice which was gruff and gentle, “Alsike, Robin… wake up; it’s time for breakfast…!”
“Coming, dad…” one of the two other tenants had replied, sharing the same quality as the first tenant albeit at a lower decibel than the previous speaker or the radio, “I’ll go get my sister as well…”
Nevertheless, a lone man was standing about, right here in the flesh and blood compared to the announcer from not too long ago. His skin, though dark, had shone on like smokey topaz despite the wrinkles in time making their way throughout and within itself. As if this wasn’t enough, the man had only possessed hair all over his chin and sides, gray like its tiny anecdotes from yesteryears. Both pupils trapped within the calcium sea were encrusted with a heliotrope of power capable of uniting his mind, body, and soul. Cloaked over the man’s integument was his entire attire painted black save for a light blue sash wrapped snugly around his torso.
Rather than wait for either two of the other residents to present themselves, he’d turned to face the kitchen which was abaft him the whole time. A stovetop oven was just lined up uniformly underneath a row of even door breakfronts, each of which were rivaling in shades of the moody blues. The washbasin stored crystal clear yet somehow sullied water inside, an otherwise safe haven for microorganisms like bacteria and protozoans alike. Hobbling about were a quadruple slotted toaster within a close range line of the man’s eyesight and a wood block filled to brim with some knives. Even a square dining table had rested on the adjacent side, cloaked in flannel as it was outlined in an emerald splash against a large tower of gray. Residing right nearby the opposite corner were only but a large white refrigerator and a cupboard as well, both accompanied by a full line of drawers.
“It’s been over seven years since that damn war, each of them filled with anguish and anger brought about by that bastard of a prime minister and those wretched terrorists as well too: the fact this was a grand opportunity to take so much from us at the time only pissed me off even more…!” the man only said to himself, watching the food being absorbed by the searing heat.
Of course, it’d only gone unnoticed when he was greeted with the shuffling of feet behind him, gentle and subdued as the liquids sizzled. Much like the man present and accounted for, the individual in question shared the same gender but not the age or wisdom it’d came with. In addition, the younger occupant had some brighter skin reminiscent of the sands untouched by the wind, water, or even the little footing. Climbing out of the scalps were tresses of white, highlighted in sky blue sparkling about in buzz cut styling, fresh with the health of youth. Resting about were also some purple eyes, albeit with true blue leanings threatening to tip the scaled balance of power away from red. Over the young man’s very body was a white tee shirt augmented with some black slacks, both of which were carrying a divided circle. Nestling within the other occupant in question’s visage were his sluggishly small drool pouring right out amongst his straightened lips.
While the younger occupant slowly took his first step, he’d subdued his own yawn with a hand, “just to give you the heads–up, Alsike just about headed in for a shower before she gets there; as a matter of fact, the water will be on soon enough…”
“It’s still unbelievable: the fact the two of you had grown up so fast and she’s not around to see it happen…” the father said as he’d refused to turn his back on the stove that was active in front of himself so to speak of, “it’s my fault that I let the toxic waste do so much damage to the three of you; I should’ve been there more often…”
“Don’t fret about it: if anything, I should have been training more often; at least mom would still be alive…” Robin sighed as he’d turned away.
It was at this point the elder faced his son and replied gently, “I thought that we’ve been over this seven years ago: what they did to you, your sister, and your mom was not your fault but mine; besides, nobody expected the war to be this destructive, let alone make it to our home. I left my own homeland a long time ago when I was about around your age for similar reasons; it’s not there anymore as of now, which makes me sad to even reminisce overall, especially considering what led to it all.”
“What do mean by that: what happened back then; is there something that you and mom haven’t told us both yet…?” the younger male had asked his father rather immediately, “sorry, I didn’t mean to be too intrusive…”
“Don’t worry about it, just forget that I had said anything; besides, you and your sister are going to be needing your focus on starting your school day at the Rosemound Institute, one of the new schools down south of there: I heard one of the Princesses is going to be speaking there…” the elder replied, turning back to face the edibles.
It wasn’t long until the radio spoke again, but rather than belonging to the likes of Vice Croix, it was maidenly and regal, “hello Dodge City, my name is Twilight Sparkle and I must say it’s been quite an honor to be featured here today…”
“Hey dad, isn’t that the woman you had used to be in the program with years ago; what’s she doing all the way out there in these parts…?” Robin inquired as he’d went over to the green machine in the nearby room at once, “I thought she’d went back to the capital and stayed there after the war…”
“Of course, she’s been quite the celebrity since then: apparently, her family had been attacked since it’d made its first step into the mainland and she was one of the first targets; someone had come into her home and set her up the bomb in the basement of the library she was staying at…” the cooking father replied, sliding one of the victuals onto a nearby plate as he’d done so.
The younger male had faced the elder counterpart again and inquired, “what reason would they have to do so…?”
“Most likely terrorism but she told them it was more than that: some days prior, Twilight was gathering proof to show that another one of our classmates, Fluttershy wasn’t with the extremist faction who blew up the meeting…” the father answered had Robin instantaneously, refusing to take eyes off of the stove despite the conversation, “believe me, the whole mess reeked of shit! Even I knew she wouldn’t stoop this low to kill so many of our soldiers; sure there was this one time she’d punched out that bastard Persimmon Tart back at the courthouse but this was too much. I would have stuck by her side much longer if it weren’t for the fact that I’d gotten that phone call; I never thought it would’ve bothered to save me, let alone get me away from the madness that had ensued. Anyways, Twilight told people that when she spotted the fire in the cellar, she tried to put it out but somehow she’d ended up with a joke extinguisher making things worse so she tried to flood the whole place. Apparently, the fire had gotten so bad, she was grievously burned in the process of the very explosion: the medical staff said she’d suffered second–degree burns over much of her torso; as a result, she needed skin grafts and undergo surgery and therapy up north. Either way, as much as I would’ve loved to get my hands on the bastards who caused those girls so much grief, I just couldn’t forget about you two as well; you’re a part of my world as they are as well as the others: your friends as well as mine…”
“Mr. Greystoke, are you there…?” another female’s voice was heard accompanying the rapping onto the wooden door.
This broke Robin out of his trance as he’d found himself scurrying on down to the source of the sounds in question which had been made.
It was at this point the last of the tenants had shown up yet unlike the males in attendance, the individual shared the same gender as the speaker outside the door and in the green machine. She was, in more ways than one, so much like the younger male in terms of keeping up with appearances: some bright hair and a matching shirt too; of course, even she had differences. Alsike was in accordance with what her brother and father had recently spoken about: a young woman was adorned in a lighter complexion in tune with the brighter regions of an apricot. Much like Robin’s tresses, his sister’s hair was highlighted, albeit in a dark pink shading; in addition, she wore a purple bow over the gold even as they’d reached the nape of her neck. Under no circumstances her body wore a long brown skirt doing little to cover the legs, let alone her own feet; much like her brother, it too had a divided circle at the hemming edge so far. Alsike possessed bright blue eyes reminiscent of the hydrogen’s high concentrations which had populated the seas and the skies making up the world she and her kind were already living in.
When the woman had finally come around, she was quick to ask the two lone males immediately, “was that Cresset at the door…?”
“Mm–hmm…!” Robin replied rapidly, turning the knob around already as he’d gone and done so, “I recognize that voice from anywhere…”
Needless to say, the door was opened to reveal another young woman in the flesh and blood, much like the small family of residents before herself. As with the twins in question, the visitor in attendance was of the same age range; of course, the signs of development were easy to spot nevertheless. Unlike them, Cresset was wearing some colorful hair down her neck: a series of moderate magenta already matching the socks over her own feet. The visitor’s integument were much like Greystoke, yet of a lighter and more youthful shade like his progeny; of course, she was still darker than his son. Cresset’s eyes had matched the majority of her very attire: a violet shade already more in favor of the moody blues than the two males would ever be. The visitor’s was carrying a light green backpack abaft her elongated dress, bearing more weight over her very shoulders, carrying it within both hands.
“Morning guys, are you guys ready to start our day in the river city…?” Cresset had greeted all three of the tenants without any hesitation whatsoever.
Alsike was the first to answer the visitor almost immediately, “not quite, I just started putting on some clothes now; please give us some time to finish. Anyways, you’re more than welcome to join us for breakfast; father’s just about done and we still have plenty of time to talk about things.”
“What are you having…?” Cresset asked warmly, sniffing the air instantly to find conjoined aromas of both sugar and spice, “it smells good…”
“Eggs, torrija, croquettes, baked beans, mushroom stir–fry, and some fried tomatoes slices…” the elder man responded in due time so to speak.
This had made the visitor’s ears perk up as she’d quickly stepped to it inside, taking in the sights and sounds as she’d began to speak up once more, “sounds even more than tasty; can I join you, please…?”
“I don’t see any reason why not…” Greystoke answered heartily at once, even after the door was slammed lightly, “besides, does your father know you’re here…?”
“Barely… both of us needed to get up real early to harvest the fields around these parts; they’re still there if that’s what you mean, although we'd to make do with the cutbacks since the end of the war: we couldn’t afford to hire more people what with the recessions and the like…” Cresset had elaborated while she’d begun to take her seat within the kitchen.
The younger woman walked over to the guest’s side and said, “yeah, I had remembered: the countryside we were staying in years ago was hit hardest after the war since many farmers ended up leaving, especially since the Apple family was scattered into winds following Granny Smith’s death. I still couldn’t believe what had happened to her though and what was done to them no less; they didn’t deserve any of the shit these bastards had done to them, especially not her granddaughters! Not even what had happened to me and mom was enough to make me forget these wretched excuses for soldiers or the people whose lives they had ruined!”
“I know that, Alsike: I still miss her too anyway and I hated the fact I was too weak to save her; who would ever thought all those years of goofing off would come back to haunt me…” Robin replied, rearing his face towards the blinds in the living room rather than the people abaft, “she was also a kind soul too; if anything, I would’ve–––”
“Okay, that’s enough: I get the fact what happened years ago was a major low point for the lot of us, something I should relate to since I was there but the last thing we need to start the day is for this past nastiness to crawl in the skins of the present, especially now; do I make myself clear?!” the father snarled, his fist collapsing upon the woodwork near the oven, startling all three youths.
Of the trio in question, Cresset was taken aback despite her stoic enthusiasm as she’d answered back, “sorry, I wasn’t expecting this to happen…”
“No, it’s not your fault or anyone else’s in this room or any room for that matter, Cresset…” Greystoke suppressed a cough, turning the dials around until the clicks were heard immediately, “it’s just that it’s been haunting me for too long to be reminded of the whole nightmare I’d let them get put through, especially with Alsike here. I don’t want to get into too much detail since you were already in the know to begin with but I also would like nothing more than to move past this; besides, I’ve been taking them to therapy and counseling sessions to help them. As a matter of fact, I believe it’s time that we have a quiet breakfast for once, especially since they needed a friend more than ever like before; all this technology and innovation was nice and whatnot, but I think we can make do without them for the rest of the morning, let alone the goggle and music boxes.”
“It is now day three in which the protesters show little signs of relenting here in Baltimare, the city where the head of the Springwheel Foundation plans to visit on his cross–country trip throughout the homeland after the–––” was all that the very radio was able to speak of before the elder had come around to shut it off and the larger counterpart above itself as well.
The younger male had faced the females on the other side without looking at them in their eyes and asked, “what the freak was so special about the Springwheel Foundation, or that geezer’s trip to it? I’m pretty sure these protesters should have been focusing on some more worrying issues like saving the forests or the new recycling program.”
“And I’m sure you’d be focusing on eating breakfast, like your sister and friend are; aside from working too hard to make it, you can’t keep spending time around the speakers and screens…” Greystoke said as he shoved Robin off back into the kitchen with Alsike and Cresset intensively, “I swear, all this technology and we’re finding ourselves being televised on a regular basis…”
Needless to say, it didn’t take long for any of the foursome to be served their foodstuffs and beverage immediately within the golden silence.

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                         Spectral                          
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Author's Note
It's Fireflower again with the fourth installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic going beyond the typical oneshots I had made from before and already using canon characters as human beings instead of their normal forms; however, this is nonetheless a Mature fimfic for this chapter here will deal with certain subject matters considered unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated.
In addition, I would like to take this time to inform you this chapter is only a nightmare but it can and will bring shock, awe, and outrage out of you in ways too horrible to imagine so it's with a generous heart and mind that yours truly has uploaded another chapter after this as well on the same day no less: for those of you amongst themselves wishing to skip ahead, please do so; I promise, it will help calm your nerves a bit for the most part.
As always, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; however, only this concept of my fanfic still belongs to me so I will say this line one time: please do not steal this story or I will sue.
Lastly, let me also say that I hope you can withstand this chapter now and stay tuned for future chapters later on then again, you've but a few options: stop right there and wait, go back to the beginning, or skip ahead to the next chapter; whatever decision you make, I won't blame you but consider yourselves warned.
Spectral
All throughout the way, there was an abysmal unknown of complete blackness where only such factors of sight, substance, and scent lay buried in those obscurities best referred to as a void. The exceptions that had given clues to the very location’s identity were surface, sensitivity, and sound: such were the gentle breezes being close to comfort anyone that would cross their paths. Most importantly, the current occupancy was above from simple desolate, let alone abandoned; after all, there were a few colors in many caliginous shades and hues giving off their silent cries.
With its own colors already painting the very scenery as if it were being done by a legendary professional draughtsman, the chilling twilight had become rather deeply emphasized at once. The greatly spacious midnight firmament directly above had held up a rather utter lacking of any twinkling light itself whatsoever alongside the birds and bugs which sounded off here and there. Within the dream drop distance of life itself was but a large sea of the brilliant green, each fiber of themselves in various combinations already creating bewildering yet imperfect camouflages. The calm gentle breeze had been traversing all throughout the herbage inside of them as the lush landscape remained loudly and proudly of its structured foundation amongst one another therein. For every piece of vegetation that had dwelt within, they had usually contained one plant capable of providing nourishment or mortality to any kind of lifeform irregardless of the circumstances. Given the immense size of such acreage, it'd have seemed the probability of finding anyone residing in there was rather nonexistent: then again, life itself brewed about without a care.
Of all the fauna that were within the forestry, a lone man was found to be lying against the darkened wood to no end in sight whatsoever to say the very least. He’d possessed skin that was shining about like smoky topaz, riddled with the many wrinkles of time and space making their very way throughout and within itself. The man’s face had borne a few cuts and bruises with darkened bags beneath his eyelids, dry and devoid of any blood leaking out onto his gray beard nonetheless. A monochromatic ensemble consisted of the brilliant green armoring donned over his very body: headgear, plating, gloves, pants, and boots in such various contrasts.
“Hello…?” a small voice finally called out right into the darkness; while it didn’t belong to the man, it was enough to make his ears twitch.
Sure enough, his eyes flew open wide almost instantaneously, bearing a purple haze distortion as his synchronized gasp subsided into a moan, “huh, what the… why am I in the forest of all places; matter of fact, where the fuck are my weapons?! This is not good… not good at all…”
“Hello…?” the faint voice had spoken again, bringing the man out of his daze and confused trance, “hello…?”
“Who was that…?” he spoke back, albeit quietly.
Needless to say, the man arose to the challenge from his current standing; suffice to say, the gathering storm of possibilities was far from benign, the uncertainty brimming about with dangers known and otherwise so to speak of.
The moment he was surveying the dark forest therein, he heard the same voice entering his two ears yet again, this time with more feeling and loudness, “father…!”
“Huh, who said that; where are you…?” the armored man in green replied with a hint of annoyance, looking onward at many directions possible from right where he stood, “show yourself…!”
“Come closer…” the distant voice spoke back in return, unperturbed by the emotion he’d shown recently as faint forms of pink and blue shimmered and shined onward like crazy diamond in the rough sky draft.
This made the man’s widened in shock as he began to take a few tentative steps forward, intrigued by the lights and sounds that prompted him to respond once more, trading away the anger in exchange for worry, “kids…!”
“Where are you… where were you… where the fuck are you going to go now?!” a different yet similar voice was heard, causing him to feel his own blood boil once again, only to be accompanied by a chill within the vertebrae as well, “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, FUCKER?!”
“Guys, it’s… me…?” the man said as he found some sights making him stop stone cold dead in his tracks; as if whatever dialogue exported to him wasn’t enough, there were too many words for such description nevertheless.
Standing in place right within his direct line of eyesight was a pair of individuals whom were perhaps alike in fair dignity at first glance so to speak of. Both of them already had possessed certain commonalities that the man was quick to recognize at once: bright hair, cold eyes, youth, height, and injuries. Of course, even they alone possessed their collective differences he'd been willing to take note of, something that made him far too reluctant to speak about.
Either way, the twosome in question had a subdued fashion that was stained with scarlet accents all throughout the body in this passing time. For starters, one was a bright skinned girl with long golden hair tickled pink while the other was a darkly shaded boy with short silver tresses. Secondment, she was wearing a tattered white dress with chocolate disco accessories while he’d worn a jet black coat that was soaked deeply. Third of all, the hemming of the girl’s clothing was tainted with red despite the modesty while the boy was bleeding out right on the collar. Her eyes of true blue were dull and listless, reserved for fear and sorrow whereas his eyes of purple rain were clinging onto fury and pain.
The elder man gave into his impulse to run at them but as time passed, he was quick to realize that rather than getting closer to them, the momentum was in the opposite direction and the dead air around him became colder by the second.
It was at long last the girl turned away, crying softly, “I wish that mom and uncle were here again; even he knows what to do…”
“I know, sis; compared to him, Uncle Zealous took better care of us and we didn’t even have to know who our dad was, especially now that we know better…” her brother replied, guiding her away at once before the observer’s eyes, “besides, I should’ve been a better person and she’s dead because of me; I wasted too much time blowing things off for meaningless crap…”
“Wait, don’t go; it’s me, your father…!” the elder exclaimed, stopping the two in place much to his relief; of course, it had turned to shock as the younger male faced the former with a caustic grimace written in with disgust.
Despite the empty look in the boy’s toxic eyes, he’d maintained eye contact to breath ice in the man’s direction, “the fuck do you want, Greystoke?!”
“Please… Alsike, Robin… don’t go; I’m sorry about what happened to you both and mother: I shouldn’t have left you three alone…” the aforementioned elder pleaded loudly to them at once, “you’re my kids and I love you…!”
“You honestly think a simple apology will fix everything: you think that a mere sorry will make things right with the world; how about you call us Bell and Pomegranate instead…?” the girl snorted back in return incredulously, sharing the same tone as the boy despite not directly showing it.
The two turned back to their chosen destination and slowly started to walk away, compelling the man to run after them instantaneously; still, he was stuck in place despite the motions going through while they perambulated further out of sight and mind. At long last did Greystoke’s legs buckled beneath, sending its owner down onto the ground with little warning as the reflexes within his hands kicked in and protected his face from the sudden gravitational pull alongside the sudden stop at the end of it all. Under no small amount of time whatsoever, the man’s resolve was the next to go as his vision became more watery than the optic nerves overall, its liquids finally touching the ground with its lustrous sheen before being overtaken by the very opaqueness.
Despite attempts to regain his composure, he’d whimpered about, “Alsike, Robin… what have I done…?”
“Humph, sounds like something I ought to be asking you: can’t even resist doing dirt to your own wife and kids…!” another female’s voice snarled into Greystoke’s ears, lacking the youth the boy and his sister had possessed, “I just have to know though: why now of all times; aren’t you sure you would rather be with these side bitches in your class like Twilight and what not?! I’m pretty sure that you would’ve had so much in common, especially in the eye candy department…!”
“That’s not true… I loved you…” the elder had wept, struggling to look up and find the source of the new individual.
A lone woman stood up in front the man: like the youth from before, she was dirty showing signs of injuries from head to toe; of course, her appearance had seen better, if not, great days. For starters, her hair was elongated, much like the girl, but it was already showing many signs of wear and tear over the blue tresses, sometimes to the point of asymmetry so to speak of. The woman’s complexion was light in the brighter shades of peachy bleachy yellow yet the beauty within was torn asunder by bestial scars in various shapes and sizes imaginable. Her eyes were blue as well, yet there were icy and dicey, showing no signs of relief to be given to the likes of him in the very least, offset by the discolored bruising and bagging alike. The woman’s attire was so worse for wear, being in the state of dishabille and thinness: a snow white blouse shredded open at the midsection and jet black pants torn over tender loins.
She shook her head and sighed with no love lost or found whatsoever, “imagine that you would leave me to die at the so–called mercy of our horrid guests and that my daughter ended up being turned into a plaything while her brother laid there and took in the sight of us getting abused to no end in sight…!”
“Serene, I’m sorry…” he’d struggled to speak up to the eponymous woman, “I never wanted this to happen either way, not to them, not to you…”
“Yeah, I know you didn’t really want this to happen yet it did and now I’m dead; just tell me this though: what gave you the idea that staying by that bitch’s side until her execution or pardon was the right thing to do all of the sudden…?” she spat out in annoyance at Greystoke’s feeble reply alongside some blood.
It didn’t take long for the man to choke out hesitantly, “I just wanted to do what a good friend had wanted me to: I wanted to save her friend’s life; isn’t that what I had been teaching them…?”
“SAVE A LIFE?!” Serene roared, rushing in to kick him in the teeth; as a result, he was sent flying back in a tiny arc, “you convinced yourself that but it was really you that wanted to save yourself the trouble of raising two bundles of joy you had left me with! You had no problem with the violent approach that your fuck buddy colleague had taken on that day but when it came to people howling for Fluttershy’s blood, you went as far as to abandon the three of us for someone’s friend you knew jack diddly squat besides being another classmate experiment! I would have been fine with you cheating on me or breaking up with me so you could sleep with some hot young thing like I was yesterday’s garbage but the least you could have done was take fucking care of our own two kids nonetheless!”
“It’s nothing like that at all: I really do want to connect with them, nothing more; Lighthouse, Twilight, and Fluttershy aren’t even worth the time or effort to replace you…” Greystoke groaned.
The woman stared ruefully at her won husband with utter disappointment upon the visage, turning away with a hiss, “I wish I could believe you but I can’t; I’m leaving you and I just can’t take the heartbreak ever again, especially not from you…”
“SERENE, WAIT…!” he’d cried out, springing back into action only to find her disappearing into nothingness; this made him wept even harder at the sight, “please come back…”
“She’s not coming back from the looks of it…” another male’s voice invaded Greystoke's ears, acting as the middleman between the listener and the boy from before.
Now another individual made eye contact with the elder: it was the speaker whom was male like the latter but was just as thin as Serene nevertheless. In addition, the middle–aged man had on a full head of hair like the woman from earlier but it was shorter and it was red with amethyst highlights. Like Serene, the redhead was of a lighter complexion, bearing the tones and texture of a light and creamy lemon chiffon cake with no hair on his face. The younger man’s eyes were orange but they were devoid of the fruity tang or the smooth rich taste found in them, thanks to his disdainful scorn. The redhead’s attire was simplistic as well but much more cleanly than the woman so to speak: a white shirt had already accompanied his blue shorts.
Greystoke barely had any time whatsoever to speak anyway, mustering up a simple singular, “Zealous…?”
“I said she’s not coming back and the reason is you…” the titular traveler elaborated at once to the elder, “you hurt my sister with your deeds and attitude but I guess the root of the problem started a long time ago; can you recall that day when that twat of a colleague thwacked a teenager in the face over a fucking painting…? News flash, Mister Lazy Bones: it wasn’t just my niece and nephew’s birthday, it was your kids’ birthday as well; not only that, it was the one year they were both closer together to their childhoods’ end, something that already came sooner than the shit that they pulled when you dropped out the face of the Earth on the day of their actual birth no less…! Even when you came back over a decade later, apologizing to your wife and kids like the far eastern dandy you were, it’d seemed that protecting them slipped your mind in favor of that miserable introvert for reasons I can’t understand; aren’t they supposed to be enough for you to come back to them now?! Your family wasn’t the only one you neglected during whole nine yard stretch you put them through: one of your charges at juvie came across an extremist plot masterminded by one of the generals and sent out a letter but you were so tired and angry about your colleague getting away with murder there wasn’t any time to spend on thinking about it in the very least! Why can’t you protect your own family; why didn’t you restrain your friends from doing so much whack shit like getting into fights and stuff?! That’s because you, Greystoke, don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything, not even yourself: someone like you can’t reach to an understanding; I let you get away with taking these classes with six other people because the princess wanted to give people a chance to redeem themselves so they won’t make the same or worser mistakes like Persimmon Tart and Messenger Bag did. As far as I see it now, you’re no better than that cunting brute or that smart–alecky son–of–a–bitch stewpot; you may have lived at least a tenth of the royal diarchy’s lifespan worth of experiences but you’d still squandered them so easily it’s no wonder why you’d ended up serving that incompetent excuse of a judge instead becoming one: you fucking suck so much cock! You call yourself a family guy yet you were absent from almost their entire lives for a decade; you got a job as a bailiff and reservist but couldn’t protect either kith or kin from blackguards; you were so used to neighbors dying left and right in the so–called patriot games you thought by being big and bad, every git from the homeland to the grave learn not to fuck with you at all!”
“But I was only trying to–––” Greystoke muttered lugubriously, struggling to mount a response only to fail so quickly.
The middle–aged man mustered onward without a care, “how ashamed my niece and nephew must be right now to see their worthless father for what he is: a failure, a flop, a faker of the highest order!”
“Alsike, Robin… I shouldn’t have let you down like this; I’m so fucking sorry…!” the armored elder grieved, now feeling naked and afraid underneath it all, “I would do anything to start over again to make this right…”
“Sorry is right: you’ve wasted my time, your time, and you really wasted their time as well so as a result, they’re doomed to spent the rest of their lives with the pain until they die, just like us; but the real question is are you truly sorry for what had happened because of you?!” Zealous coldly sneered grimly.
To say that Greystoke was shocked was an understatement for what it was worth: he winced in the shame and the guilt with an audible gasp, his jaw dropped yet was prevented from falling after the teardrops, and even the beard on his face started to deflate; despite the pain and panic, he’d answered instantaneously, “of course I am: I’ve seen how selfish and stupid I had been…!”
“Yet you dare to insult me, my sister, my niece and nephew, and yourself by showing guilt and contrition now after what happened to the lot of us?!” the middle–aged man snarled, slapping the elder counterpart with the back of the right hand without warning, “in my book, that’s cowardice, hypocrisy, and treachery in one greasy sleazy package…!”
“I never imagined how being left out of their lives would cause so much trouble, let alone create it…” Greystoke sobbed profusely.
Zealous walked away from the elder with a glum retort, “yeah, I know: besides, the second I saw you walk out that door, I swore to myself that I would raise them as if they were one of my own kids; if anything, it was enough to break my sister’s heart but not enough to kill her anyway so as long as you were far, far away, I could never forgive someone like yourself for doing that!”
“I see then…” Greystoke sniffled about, sucking the phlegm right back into his nostrils loudly, “I guess this is what I deserve: being alone and whatnot; some people are meant to be alone and I’m one of them, I think I’m finally ready to accept that. I’m the one who was supposed to take care of everything, make everything okay for everybody; but, it just didn’t work out like that and I left: I left them all behind and for what? They never did anything wrong; I used to try to forget about them, pretend that they didn’t exist but I can’t: they’re my family, the perfect family and I’m alone and I deserve to be that way. I just don’t want them to hate me for this…”
“It’s far too late now, we’re too far gone; you’ve lost too many chances and now we feel ourselves changing…!” a similar male voice was heard yet it didn’t belong to either of the men in question so to speak.
The elder was greeted by the sights of two people again, sharing similarities with the girl and boy from earlier before; as a matter of fact, they were even having some commonalities of their own. Nevertheless, their differences were still made known besides the height, weight, and age alone: the man was full of muscles yet riddled with scars; the woman bore a pair of very dense bosoms. The clothes they'd even bothered to wear on their back this time were much different enough: a white loincloth was worn on the youth’s waist; she’d donned a tunic that was open yet modest.
Uncanniness notwithstanding, the wounds on the two’s bodies were enough to make Greystoke double over and retch, “kids…!”
“You shouldn’t have come back, Greystoke…” the young woman had coldly hissed, stamping her dainty foot onto the bloodied soil beneath themselves, “we don’t want you here again actually…”
“What are you saying…?” the aforementioned elder groaned.
It was now the youngest man’s turn to snap into action, scorn now biting into his own words, “you got some fucking nerve to pretend you don’t know jack shit about what you did; I can’t believe that our own father had to be a twat like you…!”
“I agree!” yet another male voice, gruff and scratchy but out of their sight, quickly interjected, belonging to no one, not even the likes of her, “I mean, putting strangers in a class before your own family; that’s so lame at least my father kept in touch with my family despite waiting in prison for trial to come up yet what the fuck was your excuse besides being fat, dark, and old?!”
“What happened?!” Greystoke asked hesitantly.
Another female’s voice had joined in, albeit more homely and chilling chiming a scanner darkly, “you happened: you left her to die, that’s what; how could you fucking do such a terrible thing?! Not even my own father did that to me and I left my own family to marry into another; they were your only family, your own family stupid cunt!”
“She is dead ‘cause you couldn’t help to choose ‘tween saving a classmate and protecting your wife and kids…” even an additional feminine husk of a tone followed after as well, such bittersweet sorrow overtaking dry fury, “you insensible worm, you say you love zem when you can’t even live up to your promise; to zink zat Robin was suffering in silence ‘cause of you!”
“Cunting douche…!” yet another male clucked.
A matronly voice similar to the penultimate female scoffed with disdain, “I’m so glad my father is nothing like you; we may not be flesh and blood, but at least we trust each other not to abandon one another…”
“But…” the corporeal elder struggled to reply, “Cresset…”
“You’re so mean, you convinced yourself it was okay not to stay for that woman all because you couldn’t stand to see another die; it’s so ironic I’ve forgotten to laugh or cry since your kids pushed me around at every opportunity, even on my own birthday no less; thanks to you, she’s no longer with them…!” an emaciated growl reproached Greystoke.
It was at long last yet another woman took on a more material mold as Serene and her brother had done, appearing right before the elder and the two that stood up in front of the latter at once. The recent visitor’s skin was bright as the sun yet was similar to the girl and her mother anyway; of course, the former was free of such irregularities that were plaguing themselves and the boy. Glimmering about in the cold distance were but a pair of heliotropes glowing about alongside with the rest of its owner’s eyes, capturing Greystoke to remain firm at attention with her gaze. The floating female’s elongated hair was flowing to and fro, sparkling about as each and every one of its very tresses were neatly divided into equal sections of purple, pink, aqua, and green. Aside from the golden tiara matching her amethyst encrusted necklace and crystalline slippers, she was cloaked in white much like the youngest of females yet was appearing the most modest.
The eldest male was dumbstruck with awe and apprehension at the woman’s sudden arrival, looking up to find a snowstorm within her look as she’d begun to speak in a more regal voice, “I’m very disappointed in you, Greystoke. I’d trusted you to learn from the mistakes of others and look what had happened: not only you’ve failed in your responsibilities as a bailiff, you’d betrayed and forgone your own wife and kids; to think I’d placed you underneath Miss Alder’s supervision simply because I felt you would have conducted yourself differently than Persimmon Tart had when he’d slew his own beloved wife.”
“But I did conducted myself better: I didn’t even get angry with Serene in the very least; it’s just that–––” the eponymous elder enunciated, only stopping when he felt some snowflakes starting to descend at once, “what’s going on…?”
“Perhaps it’s time you caught up already; after all, you’re responsible for your own actions, murderer!” Cresset’s voice snarled as a bolt of lightning flashed the message brighter and clearer than her attempt to the armored observer.
Greystoke found himself freed from the green inferno only to end up in an openly dry field of monochromatic monoliths carved into various shapes, each bearing a name and lines of text underneath with many colorful nosegays resting nearby them; out of the many, she stood aside from one and spoke again, “look, look at the pain of what you’ve caused them.”
“Here lies Serene Accord…” the eldest man read aloud as soon as thunder and lightning danced together above him, illuminating the whole icy area and the words carved into the marble stone, “wife, mother, sister – gone but not forgotten.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…!” Greystoke cried loudly, his resolve shattering completely into countless microscopic shards as the snow blew into his face.
As if that weren’t even enough, a flock of birds, black and blue appeared with little warning, circling around the elder with caws and warbles. Like a swarm of drones, they had zeroed in on Greystoke upon making visual contact, sinking their claws into his armor and flesh too. Beaks drilled into their collective target with the utmost hunger and determination, cutting them open and apart within a bloody stream of frenzy. Under no circumstances whatsoever did the eldest man had even fought the birds off as they pecked his legs, eyes, and ears amongst others. Many seconds had passed until Greystoke was no more, stripped clean and left behind without a trace of his presence, even his blood turned white.
Afterwards, the people and the monoliths along with the plants had faded away as well as the entire flock, save for one straggler: a lowly blue jay at the elder man’s height who bore witness to a single dirty raccoon at half that already scurrying to its location without a care in the whole world, both dressed in top hats and gold jewelry; soon, they had both hissed together loudly:
Rest in piss, Master Gravestone;  
Living long and fast just to lose it all…!  
Die with the most toys,  
After wifey passes – what a way to fall.
Left behind two kids yet again?!  
Damn, he never even make calls!  
At least you’d made it past one hundred  
‘cause, man, your tale was too damn tall…!
You can suck it down, old crotchety bitch,  
‘cause you ain’t a stonewall.  
In it for life, now ya dead; word up  
To the families, ‘cause we say ‘peace out, y’all!’
Finally, the two traveled out into parts unknown, going on their separate ways with whereabouts of their destinations known only to themselves alone.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                          Shadow                           
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Author's Note
Hello there and welcome back to yet another chapter of my fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before which I've given you since inception; suffice to say, the past chapters from before were by far a strong note for you all only to serve as a taste of what's to come later on.
As usual, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; however, this concept of my fanfic still belongs to me so I will say this line one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.
Lastly, let me also say that I hope you can stomach this chapter now more than the others before it and still have the strength to continue onward in staying tuned though the passing times; henceforth, I will leave you with but one saying only: thank you very much.
Shadow
There was a complete absence of darkness now dominating the very environs, already devoid of mystery and suspense which had relied consistently on the sheer element of uncertainty at large. Although loneliness had been filling the oxygenated space itself at once, the entire atmosphere was still more than possible to go and empty it all out within due time for one reason or another. In addition, even at least a few clues were presently providing some semblance of substance that was already instantaneously dwelling inside even with the lack of a solid terrain, let alone earth.
A tall woman was found out amongst the whiteness, lying supine with but a warm face plastered with a straight edge and sand matching her integument. Her jet black hair was a contrast to the void because of how much it'd resemble the nighttime sky but without any illumination from the moon or stars. A uniform was worn right over the woman’s body: a beige shirt with long sleeves, some dark blue pants devoid of denim, and clean, gray shoes too.
“Huh… what happened here: what on earth am I doing here in my old uniform; as a matter of fact, where are the others…?” she’d gasped, her eyes suddenly flying open to be bearing some dark hazel reminiscent of the material wealth.
It wasn’t long until the woman had come to her senses immediately, surprised to find that such visibility had been provided for her long before awakening to purity. The airstreams were speedily brushing right up against her very ears with such tender gentleness, carrying some bits of silica in their path with some fine coarseness. Within the innumerable oxygen was a crisp and cool breeze already over the woman’s skin and inside her nostrils, helping her regain some resemblance of control. Even with the sand underneath her feet, she was still unsure of the environment nonetheless; of course, her mind was riddled with questions begging to be answered.
As chance would have a crack at it up and down to and from here and there, the woman came across a log cabin out within the burning sands. She was quick in bearing witness to the simplicity in the structure but the strangeness in and of itself alone dominated her mindset completely. There were plenty of windows already made of glass but they were painted black in spite of the achromatic appearance or the visibility thereof. A lone door was found to be made of metal, easily colored in alloys of both copper and cobalt with its knob fabricated in some chromium too.
The woman made it to the metal egress almost immediately, quick to go knock upon the surface gently; as a result, she was quickly greeted with a gentle reply, “you can come in now; the door’s already open…”
She was quick to heed those very words, instantaneously entering the domicile at once to find that the place was empty despite the inner appearances therein so far. Considering its ligneous exterior, the entire background of the very cabin from above and below the very woman went in needed no form of introduction whatsoever. A single small flight of stairs were currently pointing upwardly to a higher floor above the likes of herself, already possessing a railing on the left for safety reasons. Now the woman was being treated to the sights of furnishings, appliances, and electronics on one corner of the living room almost rather immediately towards yonder.
“That was weird, even for me: I’ve seen some fucked up shit here and there in my life and career but this was the most tame; as a matter of fact, I need to stay on my toes nonetheless anyway…” she’d thought to herself, quickly taking aim at one of the very items in her sights upon arrival, “besides, I haven’t seen the owner at all yet…”
“After all that success and recommendation… everything came crashing down hard… the nightmares, the headaches… do you have any regrets…?” another voice was heard but it was tainted with static meshes here and there, prompting the woman to find the source of it all quickly: a brownish and woody flatscreen device with moving pictures being displayed at once.
Of the pictures in question, one stood out, making her jump a bit; as a matter of fact, it was minimalistic to a fault, bearing one word in white against a black background: it had read out in uppercase letters, “LIGHTHOUSE…”
“Sweet merciful–––” the aforementioned individual struggled to make and exclamation, “what’s going on…?”
“She’d burst onto the homeland from humble beginnings with a large family of her own, struggling to make ends meet for themselves, even going so far as to miss school days to help her sick parents; today, a special edition of Holding Out For A Hero: Lighthouse…” the square electronic buzzed about to the likes of her.
Lighthouse was treated to a sight of herself on the screen in much different clothing: a black jacket and red blouse combo with purple buttons; the latter spoke with a faint smile, “I wasn’t there trying to be Rager; I’m just trying to do my job like everyone else and even it’s not so glamorous or respectable…”
“Coming up on Holding Out For A Hero…” the speakers announced, even with a still picture of the same woman in more casual attire in a monochromatic filter zoomed inward, “Aquamarine Lighthouse: the Troubled Life and Tragic Death of a Hero…”
“What?!” she'd squeaked out at once.
Lighthouse watched as people started appearing on the small screen before her, different folks in many places performing various tasks yet the device spoke in the previous voice, “many people from all throughout the globe have gone off in search of a better life, some managing to find a place of their home to call their own, even complete strangers from with the homeland itself.”
“Lighthouse was a great woman…” a dark skinned man in dreadlocks had spoken up, appearing before the eponymous woman already clad in a bright beige suit, “one of the most important in the battle of Baltimare…”
“Oh, Lighthouse always knew when to stand up and do the right thing in the end, even if it meant risking her life and reputation to do so…” a brightly skinned brunet man with a clean–shaven face had said, taking the first man’s place while wearing a gray sweater onscreen.
Another bright skinned individual made a separate appearance, sharing the same gender as herself: the former wore a white blouse and donned long hot pink tresses while speaking, “she was a brave soldier, brave…”
“And she’ll continue to be important to the people of this homeland…” the dreadlocked male cut back in almost instantly, “I mean between books, talk show appearances and even portraits, her legacy will continue to go on for years to come…”
“So many were saddened to hear of Lighthouse’s death: from admirers to fellow compatriots alike, including one of her former coworkers from years ago…” the announcer’s voice had said as somber music started to play in the process with some pictures of the titular tenant plastered about in various attires and emotions probable.
It was at this point in time another dark skinned male appeared onscreen, yet he was bald and dressed in a long black suit with a red tie, now talking as well, “I’ll never forget how it all went down: I heard that she was going to head down west to the orphanage that opened up after the war; it made me think back to the day I lost someone close to myself as well. Then I had heard that she’d died; I was crushed because of how it had reminded me of another woman whom was nearly executed years ago just as the war got hotter.”
“But what Greystoke didn’t know was that one of their former colleagues had written a song dedicated to her as thanks for helping him let go of the bitterness he held in his life…” the man with dreadlocks came back to reply, “it'd gotten rush–released as a memorial single, courtesy of Songbird Serenade mind you…”
The bald counterpart had focus onto himself returned as he’d said, “it went through the roof, but it won’t be enough to make me forget about my own wife, may she rest in peace…”
“Oh my…” the raven haired observer had gasped a bit to herself but still maintained her composure, “it can’t be…!”
“Of course, it’s always tragic for a heroine to die so young but ultimately I have to say it’s the best thing that could have happened; better now than later that’s for sure: she’s worth ten times as much dead as she is alive…” the bright suited individual chirped about quite jovially much to her discontent.
Speaking of which, Lighthouse repeated, “ten times?! You’re fucking shitting me…!”
“Make it a hundred…” he’d laughed immediately, “she’s done more than what that Princess Cadence could have done…”
“Lighthouse’s fierce temper was well–known…” the announcer stated as footage of the very same woman in uniform alongside several others attacking two overweight men with batons were being played; in addition, there were a few other people not in uniform being found as well.
She watched her weapon rain down onto the bare–chested male’s head while screaming, “KNOCK IT OFF, NIÑO; WHAT WOULD YOUR PAPI THINK…!”
“I’d remembered the day she’d went to court to oversee Persimmon’s murder trial; he'd acted so out of control, it got to her without any effort whatsoever…” the brightly skinned brunet said, now reappearing, “of course, it was his own damn fault: he'd killed his own wife while she'd tried to save that poor baby of hers yet all that this bastard could think about was none other than himself…”
“Speaking of girl power, although that she'd gave it to him really good, Fluttershy ended up stealing the show: I'd heard that just as that coward fought them all off, she'd punched him so hard and fast, he'd ended up losing several of his own teeth; apparently, she was waiting in court to get a permit…” the dreadlocked male chimed back in.
The bald correspondent returned to give his take and part in the conversation, “remember the time when she kicked a drugged–out bully in the balls so hard he'd to go get them surgically removed…? I was like damn, that was hard; thankfully, he'd gotten himself clean and a new pair too…”
“I heard that she'd arrested some farmer for throwing a tomato at her by accident…” a ginger male of small stature wearing a green knit cap matching his overalls muttered, “a stupid, worthless tomato for crying out loud…”
“I was almost thrown overboard…!” Lighthouse shouted.
The bright skinned woman came back to speak her mind, “I think that it’s great that she’ll be remembered but I’m also grateful that she left this career behind before she died at some other brute’s hand… great woman…”
“But she'd smelled so dirty…” the little man interjected with little warning whatsoever, “that’s one of the reasons why I had given up on bringing the band back together; even though the war had ended, all that I could think about was reuniting with my classmates: Fluttershy, Greystoke, Twilight, Zuul, even her. Swain also used to be in our class as well but ever since the terrorist attack killed him, to say that we’d went our separate ways was a lie; in fact, I'd recalled when they took me away since the class had been disbanded: it was part of a deal that was made where attending these classes would ensure that my criminal record would be expunged.”
“There had even been conspiracy theories suggesting she’d played a hand in orchestrating the bombing to get rid of my friend Fluttershy since she'd basically stole her job in so little time; of course, I refused to believe them since I was with her, unlike Lighthouse herself so to speak…” another woman now appeared to speak, dark skinned like the first few males yet with purple hair.
The raven haired observer scoffed, “that’s terrible…!”
“But her admirers never abandoned her…” the announcer spoke as a hodgepodge of items in certain forms and fashions imaginable were being passed around to and fro, “when a cache of Lighthouse’s personal possessions hit the collector’s market, it would seem that price was no limit.”
“We were lucky to come across Lighthouse’s personal diary: very juicy stuff – I mean, we’re talking deepest fears, emotional insecurities, the real inside dirt; quite a find…” the man in dreadlocks said, showing off a blue book onscreen.
More pictures of herself faded in and out interchangeably as the announcer had spoken once more, “of course, the book will be published this winter; an advanced copy was leaked by one of her closest friends and confidants. ‘October 21th – I can’t understand what my mother would think of me if she saw me celebrating Nightmare Night; I’m still hoping that she come visits me the day after: this career change is taking a toll on my mind… plus, I miss Lalah…’”
“This is insane…!” Lighthouse quickly squawked, scrambling around, “I’m not dead; I’m right here…!”
“Aquamarine Lighthouse: scores of accolades, plenty of fans, a treasury of heart we will never forget; but, what about those who knew her best…?” the announcer asked as the woman’s face was plastered onward.
Another light skinned brunette weighed in, wearing a darker uniform as she snickered, “that dumb shallow ingrate barely crossed my mind… I miss the gig even more…”
“I miss Lighthouse already: she’d been a part of my life ever since I moved to the mainland; I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself though…” the bald man sniffled a bit despite remaining stoic, “we were so busy going to work and class we barely had any time to ourselves to spend with our families and because of it, I was away the day when my wife, Serene… died… I’m sorry… can we… can we stop this…?”
“But all this hasn’t happened… this whole show… of course, they’re not really talking about me: there’s some kind of mix–up; I’ll just call them in the morning… and straighten things out…!” she'd said soundly, staring at the lonely gravestone in front before reaching her hand towards a nearby blue telephone on the desk.
The moment when Lighthouse picked it up, her ears were assaulted with a series of harsh riffs and beeps hitherto and from before dropping completely; still, they played on as she'd heard the announcer speak up one last time, “rest in peace, Lighthouse… rest in peace…”
“No, No, NO: it’s not possible: I won’t believe that I’m already dead…!” the woman raised her voice at the small screen, “IT’S A LIE…!”
“It’s a fact, Lighthouse, you must accept it; after all, because of you, my friend is dead – he was killed in a suicide bombing at the prison where Persimmon Tart was held along with many other bastards…” another male voice was held but it didn’t come from the ligneous electronic in front of herself like the other figures before so to speak.
Lighthouse turned to find that she was standing before a small boy right across the room almost immediately, causing her skin to turn white. Speaking of which, he’d donned some short and spiky white hair, their very tresses were already matching the shirt he was wearing right over. The boy’s eyes were blue, matching the long sleeves of another shirt underneath as they were icy and dicey all thanks to his melancholic glare. His skin was fruity like a peach yet it was pale, undermined by the bags beneath the visage and the tears had crawled over them without fear. Although the boy’s shorts and boots were both purple, the former were faint in hue compared to the latter which had some white accents too.
The woman was in shock as she’d exclaimed, “what are you talking about; what does his death have to do with me…?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, you wretched tyrant; you know what you did…!” he spat out almost instantaneously, wiping away the tears before her, “besides, how else could I’ve ever known why he did it; he was my best friend, and he had options but that changed because people like you kept fucking up by simply taking too damn long to stop fuckers like that shitty excuse of a dad. At least the only good thing about our fathers was that they never tried to kill us directly, let alone slaughter our own mothers before us; who the fuck were you to go ‘wham! wham! wham!’ on Persimmon Tart?! If anything, your judge should’ve at least sentenced that bastard to death when she had the chance; better yet, you could’ve ended him and maybe for once my friend would have still been alive. Of course, what did I expect from someone like you, let alone have any right whatsoever to decide who should live or die?! People like me would have been put to death for ending so many lives left and right, especially outside of war; but him, he did nothing wrong to deserve such a fate: losing his father to another bastard like Persimmon Tart in this forsaken world while fuckers like you didn’t have the time to get a clue! I tried to stop him, you know, from carrying out his plan, not because of some pang of conscience, but rather because I didn’t want him to give up his sense of normalcy; yet, all that he could think about was monsters like them getting fat and happy while his father becomes an afterthought of the past. I couldn’t help but to think about what Figaro had looked like: a severed head attached to his spinal cord like some goddamned fish; in fact, it was all that remained of him since he went and–––”
“That’s awful; I’m really sorry about what happened to him… that’s all…” Lighthouse said after watching the boy's breakdown in a deluge of tears.
As soon as the woman attempted to move forward, she'd felt some static pushing her away from him; while she'd yelped in pain, he'd growled in sorrow, “it must have been real nice for you, ain’t it? All you could think about was what it would be like had you bashed his brains in with your black baton, right?! Too bad that two people beat you to him: I didn’t care much for that introvert knocking his teeth out, but Figaro, he was my only friend and you people took him away from him!”
“How in the whole wide world did I take him away?!” she’d snapped back in fury, unperturbed by the very pain she'd just felt and listened to only recently, “it was his choice to do so, not mine…”
“Typical… you people, despite being on two different sides of the same damn, are more alike than either of you want to admit: you thrive off of violence, you have a penchant for being cruel to others, and you like hearing and watching one another die; at least, I’m glad that you're dead as well…!” the boy roared as an orange wave of electricity surrounded himself within only seconds.
Lighthouse quickly had reached into her pocket to pull out a pistol and pleaded to him profusely, “come on now; even you know that’s not true: besides, I had no satisfaction for that man’s death or the boy’s…”
“As if I could believe you…” the boy whimpered, now facing the woman with eyes and tears of orange staring out into her with dread, “ever since I was little, I was trained to be an assassin but not at the hands of warlords with an agenda for bloodshed; my family taught me various methods on how to take a life in more ways than one: burning, freezing, even electrocution of all things. My big brothers were the ones who'd helped put food on the table with the money they made killing so many people; my mother said I could have been following them in their footsteps if I had given up on finding friends. At least in hindsight, they were right for the most part; still, letting his death be in vain was too light of a punishment for the likes of you so I’m doing what should have been done a long fucking time ago: KILLING YOU…!”
“Hah…!” she’d gasped before discharging her weapon at him instantaneously, each bullet escaping from the barrel and into his direction; however, not only was he unharmed, they were caught in an electromagnetic field around himself.
It wasn’t long until Lighthouse heard continuous clicking from her own pistol, forcing her to look at the metallic fruits of her labors now right at the boy’s disposal when he’d snarled loudly, “THIS IS FOR FIGARO, YOU FUCK…!”
“AH, DÍOS MIO!” the woman cried as the first bullet entered her left leg, forcing her down onto the ground before she clutched onto the spot of the fresh new wound; soon, more bullets rained down onto more parts of her body: legs, arms, torso, even parts of her hair were cut away, “STOP, STOP, YOU MADE YOUR POINT JUST PLEASE… don’t let me die like this…”
“You should have thought of that before you let him go to prison; anyway, my work here is done…” he’d growled before turning away, leaving her in a pool of her own blood as he’d left her, the room she was in, and the cabin she’d recently entered without even daring to look back.
Lighthouse couldn’t resist feeling her strength leaving her body as she stared into the ceiling writhing in pain; she panted and moaned with tears of her own escaping from the corners at once, “so this is why… everyone thinks… that I’m dead: I’ve… been killed by a… little boy who… misses his friend…? Damn, I’ve been such… a fool like him… not even Magma… deserved to be… with gals like me… especially… considering… that he is a… good, strong, brave man… no… Magma was great… I bet that fiend… Messenger Bag… would have loved to… see me like this… blood on the floor… into hole cheese… about to die… Mami… if you’re listening… please tell papi… I am sorry…”
It wasn’t long until the lone woman had taken her last gasp, exhalation being long and rattled before she became silent with the whites of her eyes fading away as they were left open wide; afterwards, the pictures were replaced with the snowy waves of static meshes as noise bleed throughout the dead air, buzzing about as her body lain still in the growing puddle underneath.

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                         Graystone                         
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Author's Note
Ah, you've come to chapter fiver of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature fanfic no less on the grounds that three chapters ago heavy subject matters have proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this was by far a strong note for many readers alike so therefore you were all given an option to skip ahead to another chapter: whether or not you had taken this offer, it was only up to you to do so nothing more.
As always, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; however, this concept of my fanfic belongs to me so I will say this line one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.
Lastly, let me also say that I hope you enjoy this chapter now more than the others and still have the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for future chapters later; henceforth, I will leave you with but one saying only: thank you very much.
Graystone
There was darkness, a simplistic form to describe such nothingness within its own world; as a matter of fact, it had already demonstrated its capabilities by harboring the element of surprise by means of uncertainty therein. That being said, the cubic centimeters of this very transient ocean did little, if anything, to hide away the objects that would have been found even with the naked yet trained sort of eye bearing such abilities in so little time. The mere idea that something and/or someone dwelling within the jet black void alone for any number of reasons known and otherwise was but time immemorial thereof; in this particular case alone, not even that can last.
Suddenly without warning, yet as if on cue, the erratic ringing of metal rapidly clanged against another resounded throughout the very darkness itself. As the echo’s reverb quickly departed from the blackened ocean, so too did the uncertainty of nothingness alone; light filling the entire area instantly. Concrete had made up the entire space, uniformed in structure and stricture hand in hand as they had threatened closing in on their own collective target. Here the source of illumination hung in the balance, inching away from the ceiling as electricity had unleashed its collection of photons all throughout. In the confines of the stony loneliness was a bucket standing by at the corner: made of metal, its contents bore an odor organic with such repugnance.
Lying by the floor was a mass of flesh in the form of a man in the altogether, cloaked in both light and cold already hugging his very body. So far, the lone individual’s hair bore a flat texture of the brilliant green barely above the scalp, too short for even the likes of himself to tell. The man’s skin was dark like the gravel itself yet bearing more color than the mass of concrete already surrounding himself as topsoil alone. His two eyes were dark and beady yet they had bore some bright chocolatey pupils right after the eyelids slowly open up to adjust themselves. The man bore a muscular figure that glistened despite the dingy atmosphere; still, even some signs of undernourishment had still remained.
“Zuul, you’re up; get dressed and report to the board…!” a harsh masculine voice was heard, yet it didn’t even belong to the aforementioned individual within the very room.
Nevertheless, the unclothed male had arisen to the call with but an annoyed yawn, “wh’ever, sir…”
“You should be thankful that you’re getting out today: if it had been up to me, you would’ve been going in for another week in the hole; of course, the princess wouldn’t have liked that now…!” the distant voice had shot back with fury as Zuul stood up, “you degenerates make me sick to my stomach: even seeing you make me think back to that arrogant twat Messenger Bag. Always mocking us in the papers and even in the radio stations, criticizing our justice system by making us out into monsters and demons with an agenda; that program her highness came up with to counteract that shit he'd pulled was a mistake: you and that whore should’ve died in that war…!”
“Shouldn’t you have also died in the war as well, sir…?” the middleweight man had retorted with a glare.
It wasn’t long until Zuul watched the door upfront open, standing in the presence of another figure proven to be the true owner of the first voice. The middleweight man was able to find that he and the other individual in question had shared one thing in common: the same gender therein alone. Of course, the very twosome already present and accounted for had possessed many considerable differences separating one another almost instantly.
The figured in question whom had just arrived to see Zuul stood up to him at a similar height range, but with some more density in the former. Unlike the middleweight’s hair which was still clean and clear, the visitor happened to possess thick tresses of gold crawling from the sidelines. Eyes belonging to the bulkier counterpart just so happened to be a witch hazel focusing in onto the thin occupant with such moderated contempt. Simply put, the observant visitor donned a brighter complexion, one that was rather as clear as the sandy beaches where people would walk on. Dressed from head–to–toe were but a jet black ensemble consisting of a headgear, jacket, pants, and shoes covering up the heavier man already. Additional objects were found to be adorning the owner’s clothing as well; out of the many was a luminous badge upon much of its owner’s chest. Yoking raiment were discovered underneath the cumbersome observer’s left underarm, stained in a dyed deep blue with a singular yellow stripe.
Pulling out a baton instantaneously, the man in uniform pointed it right at Zuul’s neck and snarled, “now you listen here, you fuzzy moss–headed son–of–a–bitch: I didn’t keep my head down during the purge just to be insulted by a lowly foreigner. Princess Celestia may have showed some mercy to the likes of you but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice to you either so I recommend that you show some respect… do you understand…?”
“Then by all means, sir…” the darker male had exhaled immediately, “of course, I understand… you cuck…”
“Just get dressed; even looking at your dick is making me feel like I’m becoming one of you…!” the lighter counterpart barked, throwing the clothes onto the floor up in front of the occupant.
Zuul was quick to comply yet so as to not even disturb the man in uniform right within range, crouching as the former started shuffling throughout the set of textiles therein. The dark skinned occupant had found a lone pair of snow white briefs and a matching undershirt with some socks; upon doing so, he started to dress himself into them at once. Slowly, Zuul soon had began to find a jumpsuit with a zipper lined right down the middle and opened it, finding the patience to slide into the uniformed clothing right away.
Needless to say, the middleweight closed himself up and had said to the observer, “I’m ready now, sir…”
“Your boots and glasses are across the hallway… unless you’re willing to go another week…!” the heavier counterpart snarled as Zuul had started to walk out of the room, following after the latter with truncheon in tow, “don’t forget, bamboula, you could be here forever…”
“Forever’s hardly a long time in the ears of many…” the middleweight’s mind muttered as he'd felt the cold floor underneath his very feet.
It wasn’t long until they were in contact with the sights and sounds reminiscent of the very room Zuul was found in not too long ago so to speak of. Only shades of green and beige were dominating the very background, already showing little to no signs of compromise whatsoever for either one. There were but small lines of doors on both sides of the corridor itself, mostly likely sharing the same purpose in holding the middleweight in place. Any information that would’ve been gained from just looking inward was of little consequence for both of the men, especially for the one in black.
Zuul came across a metallic shelf and heard the clanging of separate pieces in a similar material nearby, belonging to his handler whom had chuckled, “I don’t get how drybacks in this day and age like yourself need to see glasses; even looking at you makes me hard to tell the difference between the two of you…”
“Hmph…!” the dark skinned middleweight scoffed as he stood by and watched his bulkier counterpart single out an entire lock amongst many, “I wonder if your mother would express her love if you were born blind and dumb as fuck…”
“Get on with it now; we can’t keep the board waiting, especially since they went to the trouble of coming this far to see you squirm…” the lone man in black had commanded as the nearby steel clicked open instantaneously, throwing down a pair of boots onto the very ground right next to Zuul’s own feet.
It was at long last when the dark skinned middleweight slid his clothed feet into the footwear at once, asking the heavier observer immediately, “my glasses, please…?”
“Here you go, your Honor…” a snide remark escaped from the man in black, scraps of plastic and glass in tow before they fell onto the ground, “sorry about the damages; I hope you can see better without them…”
“Pretty sure you’re doing fine by yourself, sir…” Zuul grunted.
The bulky individual felt his hands trembling about but regained control over himself, steadying about before leading his charge by the cuffs of the jumpsuit, “move your hide over, they haven’t got all day…!”
There were a series of similar lights directly above themselves as the two men walked past the locked boxes they had stopped at recently. The sights and sounds of footfalls going between the twosome created a pattern in which would be observed for every door frame passed. Of the pair, Zuul watched many other people come and go: while many wore clothes like him, others were dressed in his handler’s style.
Within only mere minutes, the otherwise strenuous pattern met its bitter end, already overtaken by a vastly new area they themselves had just walked into. Although the background in here was more colorful, it was subdued by the faintest of its tones, embracing the minimalistic theme without any bias or fear. Series of windows were found right up in front of the two, bearing the scenery of cloudy skies with a streak of lightning flashing about before subsiding. Here, the dark skinned middleweight bore witness to some furniture in the midst of the new room: a wooden desk and a metal chair were already there. Yonder overhead was some more light in a series of coils burning brightly at once, providing the area they were some extra guidance and warmth as well.
Sitting pretty prim and proper were a trio of people within the chestnut desk, dressed in the more picturesque of attire compared to the two men. The first of these was a bright skinned man with red hair donning a goldenrod camouflage; his elbows were planted onto the ligneous surface. Next to the man, a dark skinned woman with locks of green concealed beneath her blue scarf was pulling out some glasses from her silver blouse. At the far end was another dark skinned man with blue hair, wearing a yellow visor and dressed up in crystalline armor plating with a lone glass.
“Have a seat, mister Zuul…” the woman in the middle stated, which the eponymous occupant did as he went to the chair in question, “the report indicates you’re responsible for one inmate in the hospital with a broken femur, another with a fractured collarbone, and yet another with a sprained wrist. Now we’ve already heard from the officers whom were on duty at the time of the assault; of course, being that your stay in the institution has amounted to less than a year, what do you have to say for yourself…?”
“Uh gee, what is there to say besides the fact that I’m guilty and that I’m totally responsible for everything that happened on that day; of course, with all due respect, even you three as well already know that, am I right…?” the grassy haired inmate scoffed, raising some eyebrows from the three almost instantaneously.
Out of the threesome, the redheaded male said, “are you aware of what you’re actually saying here…?”
“I’m sorry but it seems to me that even you have an unfortunate habit of wanting something yet feeling dissatisfied at the end of the day…” Zuul had answered immediately at once, “despite our proximity, we cannot hope to gain any knowledge of one another or ourselves; don’t get me wrong, your presence is needed because apparently the war opened our eyes. I’ve been in and out of jails like this since I barely made it to puberty and while you’ve been on the job for more decades than I can pay attention to, you couldn’t begin to scratch the surface of this culture you and I have feared and hated for so long. As a matter of fact, I can remember the riot that took place years ago because some, pardon the fanciness, dotards got mad about a drug trade that went bust the second their precious courier got caught bringing in contraband; do you, mister Reed?”
“I’m sure that the courts would have been enlightened by your geopolitical tirade; unfortunately, the matter of what society does is not on trial… you are…” the titular tenant responded with a glare radiating beyond the orange.
A mirthless laugh had escaped from the lone inmate, causing the redhead to increase in intensity, “if one could call it that, with all due respect, sir: as far as I should be concerned, there was a fight going on not too many weeks ago; of course, we should not forget how it happened either: if anything, that so–called pussyboy should’ve been helped but, aside from them, nobody came. For what it’s worth, this reminds me of the day when Persimmon Tart came to trial: the second the verdict was delivered, to say that he behaved like an animal would be an insult to many in the kingdom; even Fluttershy understands that, especially since all she ever wanted was a license. Now, I’m not saying that everything that happened in this prison, or any other legitimate prison, for that matter should be blamed on that sorry excuse of a husband and father; after all, it was my choice to get involved and escalate things in a similar fashion compared to Messenger Bag.”
“Just what do you think you’re trying to imply?!” the armored man interjected loudly, causing even the likes of Reed to glance back in an awkward shock, “Messenger Bag was given a chance to redeem himself after the war ended and it was only through the grace of our princess that it was possible, even after that extremist bombing up in the capital claimed the life of her niece! You, on the other hand, continued to be a pain on our lives in the homeland: spouting horrible things left and right while killing so many other people; it’s even frustrating that you, of all people managed to avoid the death penalty in such a more egregious manner than the poor girl herself!”
“Only because your predecessors alone were embodying the worst traits of your homeland: incompetence of command, failure to abide by regulations, and negligence in regards to the young and old alike; even without the war or my role in the trial, their mere existence was enough to open our eyes…” Zuul spoke back in return, still maintaining his composure overall.
The lone woman quickly fired back, albeit more gently than the men themselves besides herself, “even so, something like this can’t simply be ignored: a choice of action must be taken, other than what will happen to the instigators or the victims; history can’t be allowed to repeat itself.”
“Agreed, Miss Gibbous…” the redhead said, rapping his fingers along the surface of the table, “after Persimmon’s trial, you and four of your own classmates were let go with but a slap on the wrist and some caveats. You had to deal with a lowly soldier on his last legs and a scholar to keep you, Lighthouse, and Krill from corrupting the two while keeping balance, a method that proved to be ineffective since the former died. Then you had the nerve to lash out when said scholar, Twilight Sparkle was nearly killed trying to save your girlfriend; this time, we have an obligation to control the outcome of any war that dares to come to our doorstep and we can do that more civilly than our predecessors have and haven’t done.”
“So what you’re saying is, you even agree that Gelatin was a terrible Prime Minister as well…?” the lone inmate replied, eyebrows at an all–time high thanks to his sudden yet brief commentary.
The blue tressed individual took a deep and long breath before finally jumping into the conversation, “now, what’s that supposed to mean…? People like myself had fought and died to protect the homeland from those that have threatened it; you haven’t done anything to earn the right to criticize our administration…”
“Ironically, I agree with you, soldier: even though I shared similar traits to the likes of my former classmates, I’m nothing alike in regards to them or, with all due respect, your council at large…” Zuul spoken up, voice barely louder than a feigned whimper or a careless whisper in the least, “after all, even Krill would’ve satirized our past if he wasn’t so busy giving in to wrath that day.”
“INSOLENT WRETCH, I HAD HALF A MIND TO–––” one of the guards in uniform yelled out, storming to the inmate’s side with cudgel in hand before she waved her hand in the former’s line of eyesight with a stern glare.
Miss Gibbous declared afterwards, “we’ve all suffered enough during and after the war, before and after Persimmon’s trial brought these flaws to light, and before and during the attacks when riots broke out in and out of prisons. The troubles that were persisting had prevented even a highly respected military official from being able to speak out without the threat of being silenced; as a result, even the grunts who should have followed orders got into fights with civilians. Following the war, the towns in the countryside were hit with the worst economic depression’s since only merely centuries ago, including one that was founded by the likes of Granny Smith herself…”
“Yeah, the whole entire class I was in read the stories about the hometown, which made sense considering the fact that all of us weren’t even living there directly…” Zuul said flatly, unperturbed by one of his handlers’ recently sorry attempt at a rebuttal, “as a matter of fact, it was even shameful about what had been done to the family itself as soon as the war began. I know that because the girlfriend I once had cheated on me with an Apple but I didn’t do the things that got Persimmon on the road to his own damnation, especially since he brought this all on himself: even I gave props to Fluttershy knocking some teeth out unlike that former bailiff. It’s a shame I didn’t see that same courage from her when she was taken away on the same week when my other classmate got killed in an explosion; of course, I couldn’t blame her for that: compared to that deadbeat’s trial, she’d been exposed to a farce that Twilight herself pointed out. After all, even her own friends outside of our class were aware of this, not that they could do anything about it even if they tried: aside from Rainbow, they had to deal with protecting their own families and even that wasn’t enough for the lot of them responsible for her failed execution! There were stories in the newspapers about how people like them had gotten raped and/or killed for reasons outside of Fluttershy’s so–called trial, my imprisonment, or even Persimmon’s shameful attempt at escaping punishment; in addition, even Twilight nearly being killed for trying to save her gave me insight on how stupid we’ve been acting…! Even though the monarchy managed to survive long enough to keep this country from sliding into the underworld, there were still some problems we’ve been facing: the former prime minister was a thief and a liar of the worst kind, our military was staffed with rapists and marauders, and some nobles sold and bought sex to and from the youth without any consent!”
“As what we have said before: society is not on trial today; you are, Zuul, so unless you keep using your inside voice, I’m afraid that we can’t guarantee your release, understand…?” the armored man said at once.
The aforementioned inmate answered back, “aside from that, the only thing I do understand is that if things keep going like they have before, then the people will be angry again, even more than ever, sometimes to the point of surpassing the likes of these officers in prison. I’m acutely aware that there is nothing I will ever be able to do that will erase my past sins completely, let alone kill or change; I’m ashamed, appalled, affronted, afraid, angered, anguished, and afflicted by the fact that I have to live with the guilt and shame from my actions, inactions, and reactions for as long as I live and maybe even after I die. I don’t ever want this to ever happen again, not now, not ever, not here, not there, not even in the stars; otherwise, history is destined to repeat itself…!”
“Zuul…” Reed said tardily, “we know nothing said or done here and there will satisfy anyone, not even ourselves; we understand it more than you’re willing to think or believe. We also know that not even you wanted this: that’s why we’d bothered to talk to you here today, rather than letting you be sent to some courtroom with all the others to be sentenced left and right for crimes committed in and out of prison. Please understand, though: this is the best course of action probable; at the very least, it should serve as a temporary solution to this current problem. That being said, we would like for you to stay out of trouble for the time being; although you had acted in self–defense, the words and demeanor you had chosen shown us today are enough to prove that we can’t let you be sent back to the general population. It’s already been established your past as a deviant over a decade ago would’ve been grounds for your separation from not only society but also from its general refuse likely to snuff you out for merely existing; of course, thanks to the princess’ mild wisdom and your willingness to redeem yourself, even we need to show some mercy, something you agree separates us from them. Are we clear on that, dear sir…?”
“As an unmuddied lake, sir, we’re clear as an azure sky of deepest summer; of course, even that shouldn’t be taken as a simple promise alone…” the eponymous listener sighed, resigned to the notion to the point he could see the raindrops reflect upon the surface of the situation itself alone.
Zuul had stood up and went right out the door with two uniformed individuals, one of them being a female, trailing after the former upon doing so.

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                        Greengrass                         
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Author's Note
Hi there; it's me, Fireflower here once more with an electric feel ready with a new chapter of A3 on the way: suffice to say, the past chapters from before were by far a strong note for y'all, serving as a taste of what's to come later on as I write them all right at my fingertips.
As usual, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to --- you know what? F:heart: https://static.fimfiction.net/images/emoticons/heart.pngk it; you've made it this far so there's no use in me repeating what I'd said before in the disclaimers, especially after what y'all just gone and went through.
That being said, this chapter does contain some heavy subject matter for it is similar to the second one due to the violence; of course, since I'm being generous, I've gone to the trouble of publishing another chapter as well for you to skip ahead again: at least y'all will be getting a WAFF compared to this one…
Greengrass
An absolute absence of light had currently dominated the rather colorless environment thereof as the otherwise blackened void already served as a never–ending source of both scarcity and obscurity altogether therein. Whatever terrain that was within the darkness wasn’t solid like the earthly plane; of course, air itself wasn’t the only thing that existed either, even when they came in the form of gentle breezes that whispered taboo noises. Nevertheless, it was far from a desolate wasteland that had just defined the very area; then again, it wouldn’t mean that such a lonely place in question thereof is even sustainable for something as simple as growth so to speak.
A dark skinned man was already found residing within the very void, laying again a rock with the cold wind blowing over his flesh immediately. Thin tresses of jade were found on his head with patches of dirt found splotched onto the surface in their powdery form therein as of this moment. The man’s face was riddled with cuts and bruises with darkened bags beneath the eyelids, dry and devoid of any blood leaking outward overall. His attire was simplistic to a fault by virtue of being loose–fitting yet modest also: a white shirt and blue shorts with a pair of brown boots as well.
It didn’t take long for the man to come to his senses, his eyes flying open to reveal a down–to–earth color scheme reminiscent of terracotta.
“I think I’m clear now but I didn’t do right by my guard, didn’t I: I let Fluttershy down, of all people; why can’t I do anything correct for once?!” he’d said to himself, looking at his left hand with derision in its entirety.
The lone man stood up and started standing up straightaway on his own two feet, grunting about in the process when he did so in due time. His eyes scanned the area for more people other than himself only to find that but nobody came, not even other species came into the fray. Even so, the place that the plain man in question was far from desolate, thanks to the abundance of grass and some rocks lodged amongst. The scent he’d picked up was devoid of any aromas good or bad but the oxygen was enough to give him a breath of fresh air immediately. All that was left for the very man was to leave in search of more life beyond where he was now standing; staying alive didn’t mean alone.
As he walked throughout the plane of existence, he took a look behind and left not a single trace but that was just clear for someone like him, calm on the outside yet rather constantly thoughtful. Even though that the man in question didn’t show it, the lack of other lifeforms within walking distance was a source of unease for himself, something that he was relieved to keep to his own. In no small measurement of time whatsoever did he desperately wish for someone else to talk to; the racing and pacing getting to him faster than the distance he actually travelled away to no end. Only the hope of another lifeform such as the lonely man himself making even basic eye contact held his resolve together in one piece and even that was doing little to cope with the uncertainty. Unless such simple expectations were met, he was perhaps doomed to wander aimlessly in the seemingly endless void with little hope for rest even to the point of collapsing from exhaustion.
Sure enough, the lonely man’s perambulation wasn’t all for naught as he’d listened some crying with both ears, “mommy…”
“That sounds like a child, and a male one too: what is he doing all by himself; where are his parents…?” he thought to himself as brief jumps in adrenaline were now coursing throughout his legs and feet at once, “this is no place for someone of his age to be out here alone; there’s no telling what or who could also be out there…!”
“Mommy…” the distant voice cried again, compelling the lonely man to sprint again after he started to pick up on the ghostly wail sure enough.
In spite of the beads of sweat oozing from his forehead, he was still on the move for answers as he couldn’t help to think about the possibilities taking place into the center of his mind, “someone has to know if he’s all by his lonesome; no one at that age deserves to be left alone…!”
“MOMMY…!” the crying went on, causing the lonely man to pick up acceleration in his locomotion in little time whatsoever, “PLEASE COME BACK…!”
“I don’t like where this is going but I can’t stomach the notion of letting him get into further trouble: it’s bad enough that they took her away from me, but now a child gets left behind; what is this damn world coming to…?” he’d pondering onward, the perspiration now increasing in torrents while looking all throughout his surroundings.
Despite the lonely man’s unfaltering resolve to search high and low, he couldn’t trace the source of the ongoing bawling, “MOOOOOOOOOOM…!”
“Oh no, I can still hear him but I can’t seem to find him yet; either way, I can’t just give up just because of that: it’s what Fluttershy would have wanted…!” his ruminations dominating the running about as he refused to give up on himself or the hope of finding some answers at once; however, his legs gave in despite his efforts overall, “OUCH, DAMMIT…!”
It was at this point that the lonely man tripped and fell down back onto the ground, landing back at the surface with a strained squeal with little warning whatsoever. He’d looked up to see the dark sky where the cycle repeated as explosions broken in there before his very eyes, something that made his heart race at highest velocity. Underneath them was a civilization defined in such various materials used to construct it all, now abandoned to be left out at the mercy of whatever came their way. The calm gentle breeze was still surfing across every one of the grassy knolls, the brilliant green surrounding it all withered about and fading away into brownness. A dirt road guided its way over from a nearby forest that was currently smoldering about at once, a curvilinear line riddled with objects wrapped up in a white cloth. Amongst the very backgrounds had rested a valley and ridge of smoky mountains, all of which raging with growth and erosion in the process of their trying times. The small town that the lonely man stumbled across was devoid of the people he’d hoped to find; that being said, the sobbing kept resonating about in both of his ears.
Out of all the places within the derelict countryside in question, one particular area made his eyes widened with shock: it was a little house on the prairie in the outskirts remaining in the distance. Although there was an abundance of trees surrounding the big blue house standing pretty tall, nobody came to relish in the fruit they were producing despite their current appearances anyway. Sequestering them from the rest of the outside world were encamping white fences around the premises able to withstand the very test of time itself, despite the about–face of fortune therein. In addition, there was a little purple vault that stood upright and at life itself, the very presence alone being very foreboding due to the lack of activity that reflected the desolation rowed upon. Standing nearby the withering archway was a lone vermilion fountainhead with a small canister and two barrels in close range, unable to provide nourishment for the remaining vegetation here.
Down but not out, the lonely man relied on his remaining strength to crawl towards the very area, dragging his legs under the plain curve. It didn’t take long for him to see many trees were being already accompanied by monochromatic stones carved into various shapes with texts. Only flowers were planted over the surface area with more color and variety than the rest of the area or the town it was now residing within.
One exception brought a feeling of nausea for the lonely man: a blonde woman of a similar skin laid decaying about without any signs of stopping. Her listless eyes were matching the leaves blowing in the wind, undermined by the blood, sweat, and tears crawling in her skin and beyond as well. Aside from the fallen foliage and fruits across the lonely wood, he was quick to find the woman in a state of dishabille, covered in brown and red. Underneath the waistline were a thin pool of various liquids formed right between her own legs, sharing a related biochemical composition nearby.
“Why did you leave me…?” a familiar voice was heard yet it did not belong to either corporeal party whatsoever; this made the lonely man wince.
Nonetheless, he was quick to ask, “what is this place; where’s the child…?”
“Ya stupid bastard… Ah know what ya were thinking before ya came here, Zuul; heard ya dragging yer feet across the dirt like it were nothing t’ ya…!” a different voice was heard, now originating from an even more unlikely source: the tanned blonde was slowly moving her head, “of course, Ah am more than willing to answer some questions since even Ah have some manners! First off, yer in mah territory now: Sweet Apple Acres, or at least that what it had used t’ be before the war came here t’ our family’s doorsteps; now, it’s where Ah can’t even leave…! Secondly, the kid ya were looking for is gladly far, far away from here and you yerself; at least, mah friend has a more compassionate side to take the young’un in, something Ah can’t imagine seeing ya doing…!”
“What in the world are you talking about: how are you still alive; who are you to say such things?!” the aforementioned man barked at her.
Laughter escaped from the lonely woman but it was devoid of mirth as she’d answered back, “mah, ya oughta know since ya were the only reason mah brother is dead; of course, ya weren’t the only one that cause him t’ die, let alone satisfied with just simply taking his life no less…! As a matter of fact, even talking about what happened t’ Big Mac causes me pain considering what they did t’ him alongside with the lives he’d taken including mah sister’s cousin, Babs Seed: she got gunned down like she was prey! Of course, she wasn’t the only one whom was preyed upon like some kind of prize: Ah had t’ watch Apple Bloom get dragged off t’ parts unknown at the hands of these brutes’ commanding officer, the same people that defiled our home and mah body! This is where Ah come in: because of mah defiance, they took me over t’ a nearby tree and took turns beating and raping me like there was no tomorrow; after that, Ah felt like Ah had nothing left t’ live for, especially since Ah woke up t’ find what had become of mah family’s homestead! Once upon a time, it used t’ be Sweet Apple Acres, the farm that mah great–grandfather helped built: our home was the pride and joy of the town because it was our labors that put it on the map; now, it’s not there anymore or the rest of the whole thing which makes me sad whenever Ah think back to the memories Ah have made in and out of here! Ah know because Ah was born there and it makes me mad knowing what it has become of it thanks t’ the war, especially considering what it had done t’ mah friends; if anything, Ah am glad that many of them have been able t’ move on from this cursed mess, for the most part…! It’s just a crying shame that out of all the individuals in mah circle of friends who ended up sharing the same air as ya bastards, it had t’ be Fluttershy of all people: the fact that she'd ended up sleeping with ya was enough t’ convince me that something was going t’ go wrong one day and Ah was right all along!”
“You got to be fucking shitting me: you’re mad at me for even being in a relationship with her?!” he said, shaking his head in disbelief before returning his focus towards the tanned blonde in question, “I dealt with some bullshit like this in my life but yours is the best: the fact that you’re so protective of your friend because of how gentle she is–––”
“That’s beside the point, dammit: it’s no wonder why she’d gotten singled out for harassment – ever since Ah saw ya face, it makes me think of when Zecora came t’ town and what could have happened to mah dear sister Apple Bloom; that being said, even she herself did nothing wrong either, more than Ah can say for ya…!” she’d spat, a splotch of blood appearing close to Zuul.
The lonely man watched as the dirt beneath himself was starting to absorb what little nutrients from the tainted fluid and quickly gasped at once, “what does this have anything to do with me?!”
“Hmph, typical… ya just don’t get it: maybe it would be better if ya wake the dead already with all that nonsense yer spouting; matter of fact, perhaps Ah should go on ahead and do it anyway…” the tanned blonde had chuckled before some rustling was heard; soon, ringing of metals against one another had followed after, “SOUP’S ON, EVERYONE…!”
Before long, he was treated to the sight of her rising from the tree she’d been resting upon earlier and it’d made his beady eyes grow wider with shock. Soon, Zuul looked around to find a horde of people now slowly crawling up from within the solid earth and into his sights possessing similarities. Although that many of these individuals were wearing some clothing, the real matter worthy of concern was how much they’d resembled the woman. Each and every one of the members were showing some signs of wear and tear, their skins pale like the silvery moon but lacking its illustrious sheen. Whatever normalcy the man would have found was nonexistent: gashes fresh with blood, skin torn open wide and skeletal frames sneak previewed.
“What the… what the fuck is this shit?!” he’d cried, squinting at one of the smiling faces in the very crowd: one of them was a redheaded girl with freckly dark skin and glowing green eyes like the woman in question, wearing a red sundress with just black dots all over itself which were already matching her shoes; nevertheless, the youth was caked in blood from the neck up.
Zuul gotten his answer from the bystander therein who dug into one of her ears to draw blood and cried out to him at once, “you should know: because of you, I ended up losing my family to bastards like you and I thought I was having it bad; to dink dat I would be killed by de brudder of my cousin ‘cause of what you’d did to him…!”
“At least he wasn’t around to see the whole farm get poisoned with the sins of his churlish so–called brothers in arms… what ungrateful bastards…!” another female’s voice shouted, bearing the toxicity of bleach and vinegar alike, “not even mah own rivals would dare t’ stoop this low over some fuck shit; as a matter of fact, even he’d come t’ hate what ya had done t’ mah grandson!”
“This is the third time I heard about Big Mac and none of what you people are saying is making any sense; what exactly do you think I had done to him?!” the lonely man demanded as he was now attempting to take a stand keenly on the issue.
More faces started to crowd around himself as the recent voice spat back at him immediately, “y’all whippersnappers are all the same, always full of piss and vinegar yet y’all end up using yer talents t’ gas people to death with them when ya outta ways t’ build doohickeys that do nothing but blow some people up and burn things t’ the ground…! For what it’s worth, it’s a good thing she’d stopped canoodling with ya deviant foreigners, especially since ya went t’ the trouble of lashing out like a sad sack excuse of a man who can’t relieve themselves by taking our females with yer sex, drugs, and those wretched tribalistic tunes of yers! If ya hadn’t gotten int’ the same class as that poor girl on that cursed day y’all beat the snot outta that consarned deadbeat, then the least she would have hoped for was finding a nice respectable man t’ marry instead of yer degenerate hide; ya basically were responsible for Big Mac’s death as they were for leaving Applejack to get dishonored and die in shame…!”
“I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT THAT, OKAY?!” Zuul responded with the utmost fury in his tone of voice, full of heat and oxygen therein, “I’m not an extremist, just some guy who hates what the military had become; even then there’s a huge difference…! Of course, no one in the country ever takes the time to ask themselves things like, ‘should we try telling the princess about what they did?’ or ‘must we do something before they wear out our patience?!’ Well, I assure you, fuck yeah: as a matter of fact, just for the record, I could care less about what Big Mac did, good or ill; but, all that I ever wanted was for someone to not hate me for merely existing, let alone being born! What the fuck do you all want from me: do you want for me to repent, apologize, beg for your forgiveness; are you really going to call out a man living in sin about how my life is wrong just so you’ll be satisfied?! There’s no need for that because before the war, that’s exactly what I had been doing: I was so happy that the several of us weren’t going to jail over something that happened in court; as a matter of fact, everything that I did since that fateful day wasn’t just for me, but also for her! The home where I was born and raised was awful; here’s no different even in retrospect: I thought that this program was enough for me to be a better person for the sake of others and yet everyone had been acting awful as well as I was being! It’s like it came with me even before the shit that went down; was I really that bad enough, now even the dead has come to rise to take me to task before the underworld over shit that I didn’t even do myself?! Come to think of it, you people weren’t the first to hate my stinking, rotting guts: in addition, everyone hates me; I can’t find a place to stay without getting targeted, no one will hire me–––”
“That was a problem before, you scum–fucking douchebag…!” a deep masculine voice interjected, no doubt belonging to a member of the crowd surrounding the lonely man.
“I can’t even muster the courage to look my classmates in the eye without visualizing them ready to kill me and whatnot…!” Zuul had continued to shout at the horde in spite of being heavily outnumbered at large, “LEAVE ME ALONE…! I’m the guy who made the mistake to claim asylum, not to take more lives; I’ve helped put an end to the war: where’s my fucking medal?! I’m so mad even thinking back to this whole mess sets my boiling point so fucking low: the fact Persimmon Tart killed his own wife over some petty inadequacy crap was bad enough, especially since she’d died protecting a child I’m willing to bet he’d have moved onto; better yet, thinking back to his ugly mug makes me wish Fluttershy should’ve punched him even harder! INSTEAD OF HOLDING ME ACCOUNTABLE FOR DESTROYING YOUR FAMILY FARM, HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE THE WHOLE FUCKING MILITARY ON AS WELL SINCE THEY WERE THE ONES RESPONSIBLE FOR MESSING UP YOUR LEGACY?!”
“At least ya got us pegged here, ya little shitfaced cockmaster: made mah own bundle of pride and joy feel foolish and stuff; the least we can all do now is work like we have never worked our hides off before… work hard to make sure ya die… the most painful death possible… Zuul…!” a brief chuckle went directly into the lonely man’s ears without any wind resistance whatsoever.
Before he could turn around to face the new speaker, some concentrated force ended up clouting him in the head, sending him flying into the direction of the redhead’s feet whose owner hissed, “finally, fresh meat…!”
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing to me?!” Zuul cried out as he’d felt sharp clamping onto his body, no doubt of the horde whom were now beginning to sink all of their remaining teeth into his flesh; because of the overwhelming agony being delivered by themselves, it didn’t take long for some small yet wet and messy pieces to be ripped out, “AAAAAAAAAAH, DAMMIT…!”
“Quiet you, didn’t your mother teach you not to say such language; oh wait, that’s right: you don’t have a mother anymore, am I right…?” the previous voice sniggered as the crowd were now feasting over the lonely man’s body, dental incisions soaked in blood and salivation as the fabric upon its owner’s skin were being stained and torn apart.
It wasn’t long until he was reduced to some pile of bones and threads attached to his head and even that was down to one ear; that being said, he’d retained the strength to speak up despite the pain, “I don’t understand… why…?”
“Wow, even as a severed head, you still don’t get it: you took away the lives of our pride and joy; I hope you enjoy spending eternity in Tartarus ‘cause that’s where you’re going, bastard…!” Zuul got his answer before getting spat on with some blood, blinding him in one eye at once, “have fun being the ball, Zuul… fuck you…!”
"Fuck…!" was the only word that the titular victim had spoken as the tainted visage of the ravenous redhead faded out into darkness before his very eyes.
Sure enough, the disembodied head of the lonely man was kicked off over the wooden fence, earning the cheers and jeers of onlookers, one of whom the same girl saying loudly, “REST IN PISS, YOU STUPID ROTTEN SON OF A BITCH; WE’RE GLAD THAT YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD, DEGENERATE SHITCUNT…!”

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                       Scintillation                       
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter seven of Fireflower's fanfic going beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds a previous chapter has recently dealt with heavy subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this was by far a strong note for many readers all so therefore you were all given an option to skip ahead to this chapter: whether or not you have taken this offer, it was only up to you to do so nothing more.
Aside from disclaimers long ago, I would like to take this time to inform you this chapter will be very surprising even more than the others before because a special guest is going to be joining one of our fateful protagonists in this chapter below: a familiar face that she has come to know since birth but not well enough so to speak of since mere years ago; that being said, at least now's the time to patch things up.
Lastly, let me also say I hope you can withstand this chapter now and stay tuned for future chapters later on because the second half's where writing gets to be a real clincher: seeing the doubleheaders of this weekend and the one before were nauseating, it'd be courteous of me to let you know that I'll be taking a break from writing the story for a while so as to replenish myself; as such, I'll come back later on and finish it in time, maybe even earlier than before.
Scintillation
Daylight was now being burned into the minds and bodies of every possible lifeform already dwelling upon the soil of the turning world, slowly rotating on its own axis at a set speed while revolving as well on a different on to say the very least; as a result, half of it was already bathed in it. As such, the wide white sky was clean enough to bear light with a flock of birds from various sizes and shades all soaring across so serenely that not even gravity alone could ever pull any of them down to the solid earth itself, free from both the fear and worry that bound the many other fauna. Within a large dream drop distance was but a small civilization being defined in such various materials used to build them from the ground up, most of them all were the ones suitably fit for the likes of even three little pigs with not even a care in the world for the dangers posed toward them. The calm gentle breeze was now surfing across every one of the grassy knolls, the brilliant green surrounding it all on a solid lower plane of existence even as the dirt road guided its way over from a nearby forest, a curvilinear line worth holding as much as it is and was worth crossing as well. Out amongst the very backgrounds had rested a valley and ridge of smoky mountains already carving themselves a significant piece of the landscape alone, many of which were raging with growth and erosion in the very process of their trying times as the dead leaves were being carried off. With the hustle and bustle about now deeply into the flow, the small town was instantaneously filled to the brim with but an utter abundance of many people from various demographics: age, gender, finances, and social standing being rather nothing short of the standardized metallurgy of life.
One particular place within that town stood out and about in the process: while it wasn’t home in the very least unlike the other residences that were built nearby but were nonetheless treated with respect. Standing upright from the brilliant green, a long series of numerous monochromatic stones all uniform: carved in various shapes, a name and a line of text beneath were clues to who they once were. All that was occupying near them were but an arrangement of many flowers made up of various colors and species already planted over the otherwise fertile soil that was their new residence at large. Many of them that were being observed by some wayward pedestrians remained aware of their purpose within that very space as there were at least some people, either by themselves or in a crowd. Uniting them under one common goal was but a feeling of solidarity and reflection of their lives as they had stared at the formations that were sticking out of the very ground they were standing upon.
Of the many who had appeared in attendance, there were at least two people standing out and about, side–by–side upfront of one particular stone out of the others. Defined amongst themselves were likenesses in fair dignity with commonalities: cool–colored tresses, clear complexions, somber emotions, and an achieved goal. Even so, they still had significant differences betwixt one another that many observers around themselves would be very quick to notice in just a heartbeat no less.
Speaking of which, these particular individuals in question had a sense of fashion that was more conservative much like the rest of the common folk themselves whom were also in attendance within the very environment thereof. For starters, their hair had brought out the color in both of the eyes: the man in question donned a bluish scheme yet a lone cerulean streak matching his orbs; the woman next to him was purple with strips of sapphire and carnation. Secondment, both faces were already possessing vibrant complexions so smooth and soft they were free of imperfections therein: his integuments were bright like a giant peach; hers were only reminiscent of many copper alloys. Third of all, their choice of attire were elaborate: the lonely man, clad in a long blue jacket with golden accents over a black shirt and white pants; the woman nearby him wore a jaded ensemble of a vest, blouse, skirt, and stockings.
“This is all my fault: I should have been there at the wedding sooner; why is it that people like her had to suffer this way…?” she’d sighed sadly, slowly sowing the spectral sprays nearby the stone.
He’d joined in and answered the woman in green, “nothing: she was just nearby while I just stood there and watched; if anything, it should have been me…!”
“Please, don’t even say that brother: I was the one who let myself get burned long enough to let it happen; I never imagined that the war would reach my home, let alone take my sitter’s life…” she’d wept, her eyes becoming saturated with water before they'd started falling onto the ground, “even to this day, I still don’t understand why; Fluttershy was one thing, but this was too much!”
“I know…!” the lonely man in blue cried out, hugging his sister tightly as the light winds lapped at their backs, a melancholy addition to the situation they were both in as memories of great days flowed onward.
She’d looked up to his face and said, “I was being such a dunce throughout my life I didn’t even bother to stay in touch or close: my friends have gotten hurt and worse, you were left out in the cold, and even my classmate Swain has been killed; I guess this was my punishment for neglecting them…!”
“Now, where in the world would you get such an idea like this?!” the lonely man in blue had exclaimed at once, looking back at his greener counterpart with only restrained intensity, “you’re Twilight Sparkle, the smartest in all of the homeland and the dutiful of the family household…”
“But still one individual, and one individual plus one too many mistakes just seemed to be reason enough to question what I have been doing my whole life besides studying…!” the eponymous woman responded, looking away from her brother to stare back at the tombstone still right in front of themselves.
He broke away from the embrace and said to herself, “how can you honestly say that?! You’re my sister, my only sister and the last thing I ever wanted was to lose you to some mad villain’s scheme…!”
“Funny you should mention it in the very least since the fact that we’re here today because of some other villain from several years ago…” Twilight had laughed mirthlessly, already unresponsive to the reply her brother just made recently, “to be honest, I had never expected for Princess Celestia to come up with such a program, let alone put Fluttershy and myself in there. I understood how and why she’d ended up in here with the other four, especially considering what our classmates had done that had led up to the whole idea; I’ve never questioned it beyond the first day we all met, although I was in town the whole time weeks after moving away from the capital. Considering that Fluttershy wouldn’t have been able to survive behind bars, it was probably for the best, even in hindsight; of course, look how that turned out: those wretched bastards gave that poor girl shit over what happened with the very soldiers since Swain died. I should have done more to save her; at least they wouldn’t have put her through the whole insult to a game of charades, especially knowing what happened: I can’t believe that they burned down her only home with all those animals inside she’d been taking care of. If any single one of them had been kids, then everyone else would’ve spoken up even louder so to speak; from what Fluttershy told me, they were trying to make her out to be some common degenerate: as if her sexuality wasn’t enough, they'd even went so far as to say that she makes it with them instead of people for crying out loud…!”
“Oh dear, that’s awful…!” the lonely man commented while watching his sister’s facade become weakened by melancholy, teardrops in full force.
She’d covered her face and wept, “I just wish that Cadance would forgive me for not being there in time… I was so quick to give into my fury, my sorrow, I sold her memories to heal my own; I’m so fucked up…! I’m not the bright young girl that was looked after; I’m worse than nothing: I’m even lower than the boiling point of liquid nitrogen itself!”
“Twilight… please try to listen…” the aforementioned woman’s brother replied, staring at the flowers, “she can’t forgive anyone anymore…”
“Shining…?” she’d choked out, calling out his name.
The lonely man in blue continued on and had said to Twilight plainly, “Cadance is gone, Twily…”
“Because of us, right…?” the woman in green snuffled a bit, peeking at him lugubriously, “I know that, though I deserve much of the fault, not you…!”
“It’s one thing to take responsibility for one’s own actions; it’s another thing to act as if everything other people do is your fault: in doing so, it keeps the pain at a nice, safe distance…” Shining said, laying a hand over her opposite shoulder gently.
Twilight backed away and scoffed, “what in the whole wide world do you know, besides this and that?! Cadance’s dead and we’ve lost; we may have been able to end the war but it came at the cost of every single thing that made us who we are: Rainbow lost her pride, Pinkie lost her joy, Rarity lost her freedom, Applejack lost her home, Fluttershy lost her child, and I lost my sitter…!”
“So this is how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, staying here at the cemetery until you waste away and die, just like the others?!” the lonely man in blue had shouted at his sister lightly, his tone firm yet friendly, “Twily, people die all the time and not just before, during, and after those wretched wars but even in peacetime too. It’s been that way since the dawn of time but the best thing you can do in the face of that is be happy. Besides, it’s what she would have wanted overall, especially you of all people in the world: you’re a strong, intelligent woman with a winning personality surrounded by people that love and care for you; you’re the beacon of this generation that we need to guide us through those dark times and I’ll be damned if I let you go out like that again, especially if it’s permanent. But death is not defeat nor should it ever be the end of anything: I may have lost Cadance too and I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life; that being said, however, I refuse to take that loss to heart for we’ll be together forever.”
“Together… forever…?” she’d quickly repeated.
He held his sister tightly yet again, nestling the moist face into his textiles to absorb the deluge, “it’s true that Cadance is dead but our love didn’t die with her; life’s more than just a game of win or lose, don’t you think, Twily…? Let’s live… I’m through regretting the past: life isn’t always about loss even when they take things too far; the few things they can’t take are our spirits… Besides, I’m a complete person now despite everything; I’ve still found a reason to live and so have you.”
“Okay… let’s go…” Twilight said with a faint smile, before breaking away again to walk past Shining where he’d followed suit, “Cadance, if you’re still watching me, then maybe I could still prove myself to you after all.”
At that very moment, the twosome kept on moving forward and were surrounded by a series of houses, proof alone that they’d entered the town. The number of people increased in density as both brother and sister walked about, already cast off in a sea of others with loud senses of fashion. Even though that they were all within the lines of eyesight which had belonged to the numerous passersby, the duo in particular were all left to be. More often than not, she couldn’t help herself but to see a few faces possessed by some shiny happy people they both encountered on the way.
“So Twily, where do you want to go now…?” he’d said to the titular traveler, stuck in the middle of town as they were both currently facing at a rather large mound right up in front of themselves.
The woman turned around and answered back at Shining, “let’s go to the hospital; I heard that Rarity had been transferred there: the tumor is in remission so she should be back in action by within the next fortnight…”
“Are you sure about that: they said that she’s been ranting and raving ever since she made a scene not too long ago; is it even necessary…?” her brother had inquired, looking around the plot of dirt and flora with suspicion, “I’m not saying that it’s a bad idea but I’m merely suggesting that we should exercise caution in doing so; besides, so much has changed the poor woman…”
“I know; what happened to her was a tragedy, even considering what they did to the rest of my friends: burning down the house was one thing but everything that occurred prior to that was more sickening…!” Twilight snapped up neutrally, even though her palms were sweaty with knees weak and arms so heavy with such indignation.
Shining had edged closer to his sister carefully and whispered in her ears rather calmly, “indeed, no one in this household deserved to suffered this way and neither do the Smiths or the Pies; the work of one man was bad enough on its own but what they did to the girls, it was too much for us and them: even if they weren’t female, I would’ve never stood for this kind of treatment…”
“It makes you think though: your subordinates would’ve mostly made mincemeat out of these bastards and Rainbow wouldn’t been alone in seeking vengeance…” she’d huffed, turning away from both her brother and the barely occupied topsoil nearby the duo, “speaking of which, I’m worried about Minuette: she’s been acting cold and aloof lately, especially around her own son.”
“What do you mean by that…?” he asked again.
Taking in a deep breath, Twilight had asserted to Shining, “have you ever seen how he’d looked lately? He’s barely getting enough to be fed these days and a bit nervous around her; I think she might be mistreating him somehow but I don’t know how could this even be possible though, brother… I understand that the war had changed Minuette and Lyra for the worse but at least Lyra tries to be a good parent for her child despite being adopted, something that Cheerilee and Fluttershy can relate to. Even if that weren’t the case, I’m still worried about her nonetheless: she’s always out there never being seen for her son at night most of the time; come to think of it, I’m starting to wonder if she’s selling her body for the thrill of easing the pain. I heard that back in the olden days women who’ve been abused in such a way sometimes develop a compulsive hypersexuality to cope with the trauma and shame; that being said, it’s no excuse for what she’s subjecting him to lately: he needs a mother, not some broken down lady of the night neglecting her young much of the day.”
“I see what you mean but we need proof of that; Martin got some when he did his expose on the brothers and their relationship with the military…” the bright skinned man said as he’d found himself starting to walk around the mound immediately, something that made his own sister trail right behind this time around, “of course, we need to avoid taking risks in doing so…”
“I know it’s hard for even me to believe yet even I still think that there is some good in Minuette and Rarity as much as every other person in the whole entire world; you understand that, right brother…?” she’d said to him without hesitation.
A sigh had escaped right out from Shining’s lips almost instantaneously, “that may be but from everything that had happened before, during, and after the war, it’d be wise to take everything with a grain of substance; besides, even if stuff like fairytales were real, then it would show us as a species incapable of living up to own potential without bias or fear of others’ transgressions. As a matter of fact, what we have done to ourselves and other people along with the environment we live in is proof that they’re only stories that give off an imitation of life itself, sometimes to the chagrin of contemporary societies championing for its writer’s end despite the points being made here and there: not even all of these tales had ended happily ever after, Twilight.”
“Still, all the knowledge in the world, or lack thereof is meant to be examined and tested; that’s how progress has maintained its foothold as the gray matter of our society: at least, that’s what I had hoped for…” the eponymous sister replied.
Needless to say, even the lonely man in blue briefly chuckled, “I guess anything’s possible in this day and age…”
“I know, right, Shiny…?” the woman in green had spoken back to him with a growing smile appearing on her face, “come on, BBBFF, let’s go get some flowers for Rarity; I’m pretty sure that she would appreciate the best of the best…”
“Indeed, my LSBFF…” the aforementioned male had said in return.
Like much of the townsfolk whom remained unaware of their presence overall, the twosome in particular had regained a feeling everything else was currently right with the world.

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                          Dreary                           
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter eight of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds that this chapter will deal with more heavy subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this will be by far a strong note for all you readers and therefore you're all given an option once more to skip ahead to the next one: whether or not you take this offer, it'll only be up to you to do so, nothing more.
Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to take the time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now in the halfway region of the story's progress; somehow, the new year had provided us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that is the now, like before: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough.
However, let me just also say that, with many thanks aside, I hope you can be able to stomach this chapter now even more than the others before it and still have the strength to continue onward in staying tuned though the passing times for I have some news: good thing is, one of your protagonists is going on a trip down memory lane; the bad thing is, her memories aren't worth smiling about.
Dreary
In some form and fashion whatsoever, it was as if a waltz with death was taking place here and there, seeming to be orchestrated by a fallen angel devoid of either friends or family in any way. The skies were blood red and occupied by the likes of smoky clouds becoming highly immense and pouring in as there were undergoing a twisted state of osmosis, blocking out all the sunshine. Below them were the fire and flames blackening the once brilliant green as they were consumed along with the wood and anything else proven to be inept, caught in its path irregardless of size. Filling the role of the gentle breeze were the screams of people scurrying about throughout the vicinity, assimilating the identities of all genders and ages suffice it to say the very least already. Aside from the assorted debris, the dirt road was littered with corpses of all shapes and sizes imaginable as they’d guided their way to the town that was subjected to the destruction as once. In place of any birds were various forms of aircraft, screeching about overhead with reckless abandonment as the golden sun started to sit upon the mountainside at this very moment in time.
In the wake of the chaos and disarray, one identity in particular was clinging onward to dear life as a wheezy gasp lacerated the atmosphere already: a darkly skinned woman awoke to the aroma. The amethyst orbs were tainted with the textured bruising across the visage as she’d started to look at the very surroundings: in them, she found many buildings of various materials sat ablaze. Aside from the blades of grass and patches of dirt, the lonely woman came to find the only fabric over her body were a pink ensemble of thick panties and long stockings with a thin garter belt. Due to her dishabille, she bore supple breasts dense like deflated volleyballs yet offset by jagged edges nearby both shoulders with scars and scabs painting a white hot picture of pain and panic. Around the lonely woman’s torso were piles of ash and soot, every single fiber of it all darker than black and the copper tones most of her very skin had possessed, save for the purple threads. Kinematics were already at an all–time low thanks to her lack of movement but she can surely see everything else in motion, including the wheels flying about from many directions nearby. Underneath the lonely woman were but a series of tremors and explosions from afar already traveling upon her damaged dark skin, compelling its owner to take a stand keenly straightaway.
Seeing the skies and the smoke drenching them at once, she gritted her teeth at once and began to walk, covering her torso due to the lack of modesty overall. The lonely woman couldn’t even help herself but to wheeze and pant as oxygen around her got mixed in with the toxins and debris each time she’d inhaled. Yet, she knew that whatever was even the case, she couldn’t stay in the same spot like before despite being unaware, refusing to take any chances whatsoever.
“Ahh, where am I: did I die; either way, why does this place look so familiar…?” was the first cerebration the lonely woman had taken part in almost immediately.
Before long, she’d feasted her eyes on one particular structure already being eaten away by the fire and flames at once: a tall, enormous tree large enough to house life beyond normalcy was no more. Its small veranda where a little telescope had stood behind the circumnavigated steel railing was melting down a bit, its glassy lens broken up so greatly its was now losing its shape and structure now. The many leaves on the tree where windows peered towards the burning town on many angles at an end alongside their hardwood counterparts were overflowing with smoke in much different colors. Even the glass lantern still hanging on at the left side from underneath the blazing awning spilled out its embers onto the sign, its very letters no longer readable to the naked eyes or even hands to speak of. The entrance was in the midst of being warped by the heat and light of the inferno, blackening the cellulose and its simplistic illustration while the doorknob had glowed a brighter and warmer color.
The lonely woman felt the rhythm emotion deep within her bare chest rest for a bit, her amethyst orbs glowing a vermilion tint before the water came. Even though her first instinct was to avert the gaze, the facts had remained clearly spelled out nonetheless: after all, the aroma and medley played. The lonely woman collapsed back onto the ground, her tears pulled in by gravity alone as they’d fell over a small patch of the brilliant green beneath.
As she'd laid there crying, a faint voice was heard crawling in her skin and around her ears: grim yet solemn like a eulogy to the dearly departed, “sad, is it not…?”
“Huh, what’s that; who are you: where are you hiding?!” the lonely woman had stuttered a bit, fervently searching for the source of the lifeform responsible, “show yourself, please…!”
“No need…” the voice spoke to her again.
A maelstrom of sorrow and fear was now being visit by fury as the lonely woman had shrieked aloud, “why: there’s nowhere for any of us to hide; just please tell me what in the world is going on?!”
“I know that; after all, this was only a memory of your time in the countryside, at least before that day…” she’d heard him yet again, her tears doing little whatsoever to provide relief and propriety, “ah yes, the day when everything when to Tartarus: the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in the air–––”
“OKAY I GET IT: I REMEMBER WHEN THE GOLDEN OAKS LIBRARY WAS BURNT TO THE GROUND; I KNOW THAT BECAUSE I WAS THERE TRYING TO PUT THE FIRE OUT…!” the lonely woman yelled out before coughing out some bits of phlegm and blood at once.
The speaker still remained out of sight, much to her chagrin as she was forced to listen in this time with feeling, “and you have failed; apparently, it would seem that your intellect had reached its limits on that day: to think all the knowledge and the memories made in such a short time would go up in flames so soon, and quite literally no less…”
“I just don’t understand though: why would anyone dare to destroy a wellspring of happiness and hospitality, much less its own library; did the thought of literature provoke so much wrath…?” the lonely woman wept, dropping arms beneath cleavage despondently even feeling greater heat, “I can tolerate people judging its covers yet was it worth risking the lives of other patrons?!”
“Not at all; everything that happened was because of you…” a snarl had penetrated her ears rather instantaneously.
The snide remark caused the lonely woman to spit back, “excuse me?!”
“Even in a world where the pursuit of knowledge, fortitude, and values are respected, you were once but a tall poppy in a field of dreams, now only a witness to a nightmare come to life…” the speaker chuckled, causing her to storm off in search of the former’s corporeal form immediately, “while you have sought to conform to their views, some came to see you as only but a blight. Your interests, talents, and hobbies were a threat to their existence, something that could have been overcome if they did not spend so much time devoted to bringing others down or worse underground with nary a reason. Of course, you were not the only one that was supposedly singled out at random like some contrived plot to corrupt and denigrate the sanctity of life and safety that many have come to respect even before they took complete charge of their own. After your friend was sent off to be put to death, you dared to save her from them; this noble act gravely displeased them as well as your mere presence and desires alone as if for some reason your skills would impede their plans.”
“What does Fluttershy have to do with all this?!” the lonely woman had only sputtered out as the visibility became dense in blackness.
While she’d struggled to find some fresh air and a safe place to search, the voice replied back, “it is simple really: she was a lowly tribute to be cast into oblivion to cover for their heinous crimes so as to appease their bloodlust and the like; did it ever even occur to you as to why when the basement caught fire your instinct to use the extinguisher was enough to exacerbated it at large?”
“The basement was accessed through the use of a key: at that time, only I had access to it alone; of course, the last time was to find the source of Pinkie’s abilities and look what it’d got me…” the lonely woman ruminated before she’d found herself sinking into something wet and fluid, “WHOA…!”
Before long, she was no longer traversing the very solid earth amidst the shifting winds and the roaring fires but currently up to her waist in lukewarm water. All of the fabric left below the surface world was submerged with the achromatic compound, now bearing the weight of it all on its owner’s legs and loins. Needless to say, although that the lonely woman was freed from the heat and smoke, she was still cold, wet, and naked with uncertainty refusing to leave.
“Sad… so sad… a host of sorrows… and you are one of them…” the same voice from before spoke out again, this time after a shadowy being emerged from the fluid she’d fallen into while the rain began to pour.
The lack of details was one thing for the observer but the fact this entity show itself as soon as possible prompted the lonely woman to growl, “who are you?!”
“I have many names but no name as well; like you, I, too, am filled with sadness…” the dark figure had responded tranquilly, unperturbed by the demand for a straightforward answer to the likes of her, “this world is one of sadness: battle brings death, death brings sorrow… The living… may not hear them, their voices may fall upon deaf ears; but, make no mistake: the dead… are not silent. Now, you will know the sorrow of those whose lives have been forevermore damaged because of your mere presence… Death is tragic… but life is miserable… that is why you were summoned here… yes, that’s it…! Sad… so sad…”
“Ahn… mah flesh; Ah can’t stop the bleeding…!” another voice was heard yet unlike the primary one, not only its point of origin became corporeal, its colors were flamboyant in shades and hues alright crying out in pain.
Oddly enough, whatever it was, rather than sharing any similarities to the former, it was much like the lonely woman herself: dark skinned, feminine, cold eyes, and bearing a fit physique; having said that, the commonalities ended there. This new being had golden locks shining throughout the darkened plane, its very light dimmer than the fires that blazed onward before being put out; of course, not even its short tresses could feel the precipitation falling on withered strands. Although much of the individual’s freckled skin was as light as terracotta, it wasn’t without some flaws: purple lesions were found clustered around the festering left arm with lines of crimson escaping along the other arm, nostrils, and loins. A pair of jade orbs circling around the pupils were shifting to and fro frantically, brows already furrowed into slanted inclines forming an edgy downward concave as beads dropped endlessly from their corners and throughout the eyelashes. Unlike the observer whom was still in a state of dishabille, the individual was in the altogether, devoid of any threads whatsoever to even cover up the latter’s form, not that it mattered in any way considering what the former already seen.
The sudden appearance of the similar figure was more than enough to provoke sympathy inside the lonely woman, to the point of even screaming out to the former almost immediately, “APPLEJACK?!”
“Everything that mah family worked for, it’s ruined: the farm, the town, the people, even Winona…!” the eponymous individual had wailed, unaware of the observer’s voice while wandering roundabout, “even Babs Seed deserved better than being shot by that hunk of shit they’d turned mah brother into…!”
“Applejack, it’s me: your friend, Twilight Sparkle: your closest–––” was all that the lonely woman can say before she’d made her way to the adjacent counterpart; upon doing so, the former was greeted by a ghastly sensation: not only was the latter phased through without any kind of obstruction, the temperament was unaffected too.
Even more so, the lone observer had turned around to find the tanned blonde falling into the water, echoing out, “t’ think Ah would even break my promise t’ protect Apple Bloom in such a way; I’M SORRY, MAMA: I NEVER MEANT TO HURT HER OR EVEN MAKE HER CRY…!”
“What the… what the fuck just happened?!” Twilight ruminated indignantly, perturbed at once by the complete inability to assist Applejack, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY FRIEND?!”
“Brace yourself…” was an answer the shadowy being gave, guiding a translucent beam similar to the water betwixt the corporeal observer’s bust.
Though unfazed by the attack, she was knocked down and her eyes were assaulted by a brief flash of the tanned blonde with longer hair restrained against a tree by three faceless individuals, one of whom going about in between the legs as the latter female was being beaten senselessly while screaming aloud, “HELP ME!”
Twilight got back up coughing loudly and found herself staring at two female alone in a daze: like herself, they had coldly colored eyes affixed in melancholy; even so, there were differences between themselves. For starters, one of the two was lanky, wearing hair with colors found in a rainbow spread out evenly in thin racing striped; the other was shorter, possessing solid purple tresses that brought out the owner’s eyes. Secondment, the athletic woman wore a bright complexion upon the integument completely free of imperfections; the diminutive counterpart donned some light gamboge reminiscent of a timid fawn about to grow. Third of all, the spectral haired individual wore some black shorts tattered and full of holes with bloodstains; the plum correspondent was all clothed in a neat denim jacket one size too big for the current wearer.
“Rainbow… Scootaloo…” the lonely observer whimpered out of concern, as they were hugging each other closely with eyes refusing to turn onto the former, “what have they done to you two?!”
“Sad… so sad…” the dark figure whispered, before another beam shot into Twilight, sending her back down on the riverbed.
In her eyes, two females of a similar nature were being assaulted by other faces people at once: the lanky one groped while grunting to the movement of her attacker, loins all wet with blood; the shorter one was having her skin being cut open by a larger counterpart with a sharp knife before sinking right into her head, much to the cry of the former, “SCOOTALOO…!”
Yet another matronly figure was now in Twilight’s line of sight; like the others, she’d possessed only one commonality: a pair of coolly colored irises. Wet and messy locks of mulberry were found coiled up yet they were already down the nape of her neckline just merely inches away from the liquid. The new female was also brightly skinned compared to the observer, Applejack, and Scootaloo, the integuments bearing color and texture of porcelain. Shrunken sapphires surely showed off such strong sensations of sorrow and satisfaction already stirred in synchronicity so seamlessly to even be seen. Another thing sitting both Twilight, the tanned blonde, and the charge apart was the attire: an all–white combo of a gem encrusted frock and fedora.
“Rarity…” the lonely observer whimpered, noticing some makeup running down the face of the woman in white who couldn’t help herself but to laugh, “what have they done to you?!”
“Take this…” the shadowy being said as yet another beam was launched at Twilight once again; this time, even she tried to dodge but to no avail.
At this moment, a cry assaulted the observer’s ears as Rarity was found wrapping both of her very hands around a younger female’s neck in a river similar to the one the former was traversing throughout, “SISTER…!”
Twilight swam back up to find dead fish stranding about and lightning crackling up in front of her, brightening up long enough to see even another woman with coldly colored eyes. Unlike the other women before the observer, she was bald with traces of hair found only on her eyebrows, too thin to be seen far away yet thick enough to bear some hot pink textures. Though bright like Rarity, the shaved being was the fairest within the land and beyond, skin light like lemon chiffon yet all her pores were already reeking about like some spoiled milk. Despite the teal shining brightly like crazy diamonds in the rough capable of moving heaven and earth, all that was brought to its owner was nothing but hell in every single direction. All that was worn on the woman’s body were some brown rags barely reaching down to her knees, open enough to show the wearer’s bosoms yet still remaining some modesty.
“Please, don’t you do this to me…!” the bald subject whimpered, shaking about in place as Twilight approached her, “I beg of you all…!”
“Twilight…” the dark figure had sighed.
The next blast brought the titular traveler to the sight of the lemony female bent over on a metal table in a dark room, naked and afraid with a full head of long pink hair as her thighs were stained with red while crying profusely, “MY BABY…!”
“Those bastards, is this what they’ve been doing to Fluttershy the whole time?!” the corporeal observer coughed out in fury, turning around to face her only to find nothing but aquatic lifeforms sloshing about unresponsively, “it’s un–fucking–believable: I didn’t even know she was pregnant…!”
Twilight trudged onward to find another female squealing lugubriously, “they’ve been tearing my family apart…!”
Like Fluttershy, she’d donned flat pink hair albeit in a darker shade than even her skin; in addition, her hands had covered up much of their owner’s face as she was literally up to her neck in some water.
“Pinkie Pie, what are you talking about…?” the observer had called out to the aforementioned occupant but no reply was directed back at the former, “what family…?”
“MOMMY…!” a shrill scream broke the sound barrier as Twilight saw the same woman, this time in a similar dishabille with her head against a wall as big blue eyes were shrunken with dread at the sight of a bottle’s contents forced down into her throat by a large individual dressed in black.
The lonely woman felt her ears bleed out as she’d covered them both, its compound trailing down at the sides until they fell onto the water; at this point, they were now stained with a tinge of orange to the point of losing their achromatic state.
As if that change wasn’t enough, another naked female appeared before Twilight: like Rarity, she was brightly skinned with a clear complexion; however, she was rough around the edges. Much like Rainbow, she’d wore some spiky hair but with only minty tresses already being accented by some whiteness found right smack dab in the middle of them all in an instant. The bright woman’s eyes were lidded, goldenrod yet riddled with water as they’d fallen onto the bloody stream of the observer’s making complete with bruises for others to notice them. The only things worn on her body were a jet black ensemble of a bridle, collar, and harness; in addition, a frilly pink saddle was tied around her back very tightly with some gold chains.
It didn’t take long for the goldeneyed woman to reach in between both legs with her left hand and moan as some crimson seeped out from the fork; satisfied, she’d held her cleavage with her right, pinching the nub while singing softly with a smile:
Mythic beings fascinate me,  
being just the way they ahh!  
Tell me, little person, can you pull a cart,  
or drive a cah?!
“Lyra…” Twilight sobbed a bit at the eponymous figure whom was being occupied with acquiring pleasure at the latter’s own expense despite the fruity stream crawling downward, “I think I’m about to hurl…!”
“BONNIE…!” the minty woman wailed with a haggard moan, down on her knees with both hands tied behind her back with heavy chains as two featureless beings were exploring her body without any regard for safety or concern whatsoever while tears and saliva had escaped freely from her eyes and mouth respectively.
This image was enough for the observer to let loose an assortment of lukewarm hues upon the dirtied wastewater she was in, a chunky salsa of nausea splattering into a wayward cluster; as if that wasn’t enough, some of it clung to her wet undergarments due to the direct proximity of it all.
Twilight coughed out, “fucking Tart…!”
“Spare some change…?” another matronly voice had entered the observer’s ears as she came across a sign reading: “HOMELESS, HOPELESS, HELPLESS…!”
It had belonged to a lone woman dressed in a tattered gray cloak sniffling about that covered up much of her body, save for some azure hair poking out of the shadows as a wooden crutch rested snugly within her left underarm.
“Who could that be…?” Twilight ruminated as yet another beam had come at her almost immediately.
Scenes similar to before had now played out in the observer’s head: a house on a hillside was caught ablaze, but this time the beggar was a tanned woman trapped underneath the wreckage struggling to escape with such moderate resistance as she’d screeched aloud, “AAAAHHHHH!”
Now, Twilight felt her upper body start bleeding out with some orange as well, every scar being cut open while it was hot: even some milk was escaping too, mixing in with the fruity stream all throughout the way; as a result, she’d clutched onto them all to stop the pain but to no avail whatsoever.
Yet another pink haired individual with bright skin was found but she’d remained above the surface tension to the point of being barefoot for her body was hanging by neckline thanks to a black cord tied around and held from the branch; even worse, she was choking loudly, dressed in a beige blouse and scarlet skirt covered in dust and soot as her blue eyes were assaulted by red.
“Twinkleshine…!” the observer cried, dismayed by the pain the titular woman was in but could do nothing until the fibers of the object snapped, sending the latter downward without a splash and into parts unknown, “I wish I could have saved you…!”
“Goodbye cruel world, I’m leaving you today; goodbye, goodbye, goodbye…” the bright skinned witness had sang tearfully as she’d stared directly at the debris of the broken home, a scene that the listener was treated to only briefly: windows smashed in, door busted open, and the roof with a gigantic hole, all sunk into the ground by mere inches.
Twilight was also shedding some tears but they were mixed in with some orange caramel and moody blues as she was losing the strength to continue on; nevertheless, she persisted anyway and kept on going, in spite of the growing pains.
Speaking of which, another womanly figure made it hard for the observer to watch: a dark skinned woman with a similar hairstyle was standing up, dressed in translucent undergarments including some lingerie that brought out its owner’s big blue eyes as she'd purred, flashing her bust without a care, “yo daddy, I’ll suck your big broad dick for two bits…!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…!” Twilight cried as she’d begun to sweat bullets of orange from her pores, trembling about as her knees shuddered about, “not you too…!”
“Please, anything but that; they’re not even supposed to go in there…!” the same woman whimpered, albeit in the altogether on a tiled floor with her sheath moist in a pinkish compound as she'd cried next to a toilet; the witnessing correspondent wept as well, helpless to stop the horror being visited upon the former by the likes of a grinning shadow in front holding a toothbrush.
Soon, some fluid escaped from the observer’s nostrils, greenish at first before turning a warmer color as she came across another woman, though similar possessed different style so effortlessly. A pair of thick black glasses already overlaid her dark irises of purple, moist with tears but cleaner despite the whirlwind of emotions going on in her eyes at a much higher speed than Rarity. The light skinned counterpart wore shades of red and purple in the same style as Twilight was but there was wear and tear in every fiber whatsoever to the point of having some bald spots. Snugly in place, the bespectacled woman wore a thick black turtleneck sweater alongside with some beige pants but they were wet with blood pooling out from the sleeves without restraint.
The light skinned correspondent cried out while more hair was being pulled apart, “you betrayed me, Twilight Sparkle: you betrayed the trust I’d placed in you; you betrayed me, just like that stupid she–demon, Sunshit Shimmer…!”
“Don’t ever say that, Moondancer: that’s not true, that’s impossible…!” Twilight lamented, reaching out to the titular peer prior to the latter turning away at once, “I did value your trust; I didn’t mean to drive you up the wall…!”
“Search your feelings; you know it be true…!” the darkly figure had bellowed as the observer’s body betrayed her at an inconvenient time, sending her back into the river once more with feeling.
“Hah…!” Twilight coughed profusely as she’d suddenly struggled to regain some footing again within the wastewater only to experience even more resistance as her head had remained above the influence, “help…!”
“Rest in piss…!” a raspy gurgle was heard as a dozen women from before looked onward in sorrow and anger, watching the observer sink into the fruity stream until all that was left were bubbles rising upwardly to the surface mere seconds before popping; afterwards, the pattern was no more and so was she, out of sight, out of mind, and even out of breathing room so to speak of.
Twilight Sparkle, once a denizen in search for answers, was now no longer in this dark and twisted world; as for the rest she’d bore witness to, they, too, had disappeared, albeit dryly and without the harm experienced, going their own separate ways without getting in each others' path almost effortlessly.

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                         Spotlight                         
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter nine of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds that a previous chapter has recently dealt with subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this was by far a strong note for many readers all and therefore you were all given an option to skip ahead to this chapter: whether or not you have taken this offer, it was only up to you to do so nothing more.
Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to take the time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now in the second half of the story's progress; somehow, the new year had provided us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that's coming on: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough.
One last thing before signing off, I hope you can be surprised about this chapter now even more than the others before because some special guests are going to be joining one of our fateful protagonists in this chapter below: another original character and a canon character will be joining at the beginning and the end respectively; of course, it'll not be the end until I say otherwise so please stay tuned and enjoy it, okay?
Spotlight
There was darkness and light as well, the lines between them were broad and wavering thanks to the hot flashes of photons already producing many colors with its shades and hues crying out in anticipation. Within the sound, light present of the contemporary times, there was only peace: though tranquil, it was due to the subdued applause made by a finite pair of hands over fist belonging to those in attendance. In the confine space were hundreds of people from various demographics imaginable sitting down in uniformed chairs with rapt jubilation donned upon their visage, their choice of clothing all irrelevant. Nearby the audience, a total of a dozen individuals in uniform were already standing right behind darkened electronics with the glassy scopes focused inwardly at the same collective directions of their targets.
Speaking of which, such subjects in question were a pair of men whom were perhaps alike in fair dignity at first glance thanks to their shared commonalities: bright complexions, short hair from their heads, some eyewear, and warm smiles; of course, even they’d their very own differences. For starters, one of the males, in a shorter stature, was currently sitting on a scarlet hassock at the left side, cross–legged but free from boundaries; the other counterpart residing on the opposite behind an auburn wooden desk to the point of even towering over the former by mere feet alone. Secondment, the left subject was a ginger, wearing a matching handkerchief around the neckline amongst a green knit cap and some overalls too; the opposite one was raven–haired, donning a matching suit and tie with glasses already overlaying his pupils as well at this moment in time. Third of all, the little man was also wearing spectacles but they were too dark to tell what was going on yet the blushing he made was reassuring; the taller counterpart was clean–shaven to a fault yet there were more signs of stubbles here and there, rebelling without a pulse to be taken.
“Welcome back to the Late Show: my next guest tonight is the little guy from a distant land who had taken over the homeland by storm with a renaissance; please give a big welcome to Krill…!” the raven–haired onlooker announced, much to the cheers and jeers of the spectators before themselves.
With the lights shining brightly about, the eponymous invitee had smiled and waved before saying, “THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU…!”
“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve managed to accomplish so much more for someone from another land and I must say it’s impressive…” the host had said to the little guy as the applause died down just in due time, “not that many people tend to get this far in life, especially before the war, mind you; tell us, Krill: what was the secret of your success…?”
“It’s really simple, Freeter: never giving up…!” the aforementioned guest had stated right at once.
Sounds of clapping resumed only for it to go back to the golden silence as the raven–haired man asked, “so Krill, just to be brief, you have written several albums worth of songs, composed with two of the finest singers, published a cookbook, and on the verge of producing a new movie in Applewood within the next few months; what motivated you into making a name for yourself?”
“If anything, never wanting to be broke and starving again was simple enough; but, mostly, it was frustration at everything that came to my mind: the teasing, harassment, even prejudice…” the little guy answered more elaborately, removing his shades to reveal some chestnut pupils, “the truth of the matter is, I basically came close to selling everything I had to get here overall. Unlike the rest of youse, I came from afar, a tiny peninsula in eastern region nearby that is caught in between three other nations: an archipelago on the east, a federation at the northwest, and there’s even a frozen tundra by the northeast by a small region. Growing up there wasn’t easy for the likes of me, especially when you’re barely growing up to be big and strong, if at all: even though that we would’ve been surrounded by plentiful food, we’d spent a long time huddled up in safe spaces whenever regimes change, externally and internally mind you. For what it was worth, I think that leaving my homeland was considered the first of the few best decisions I have ever made in my life, if there ever were one; of course, it wasn’t without hardship and tragedy, especially compared to what I had found in here over the years, even before the troubles began there.”
“What do you mean by all that: you seem to be so well adjusted with all that success; how can it be considered so…?” Freeter inquired, the in–crowd leaning on a bit forward without ever leaving their seats with such great expectations.
Krill took a long drag of air in before expelling it back from whence it came almost immediately, followed by an elaborate explanation afterwards, “for starters, my parents died when I was young, just about between a little over a decade or two ago; the community we’d lived in was too small for any of us to stay here, even under optimal conditions. As a mattered of fact, seeing that I had no other next of kin, I’d resolved to move out of here in search of a better life; of course, this didn’t mean that I got here overnight…”
“What kind of hurdles did you have to go through to get to the heart of the homeland itself…?” the raven–haired observer said as he’d noticed some beads of sweat pooling down from the side of the guest’s face, “surely, even for a guy at your age you would’ve had some difficulty leaving your home…”
“You’re right; I had to make a small step before leaping here, especially in a nearby land known for unleashing its shit onto my home: before your war broke out, mines were another chapter in my daily life but I never told this part of the story because being a foreigner means not being able to speak the correct language…” Krill had chuckled mirthlessly.
Now it was Freeter’s turned to join in and wince before speaking, “what do you mean by that, little buddy…?”
“It’s simple if you knew where I came from: compared to here, my first stopover in the Dawn Horizon wasn’t a cakewalk in the park; there were plenty of challenges I had faced…” the guest speaker began to give him much of the details regarding the question at hand, “like in here, I’d faced discrimination for plenty of reasons; birthplace, speech patterns, even my height… Considering their history of trying to eradicate our culture in their attempt to have my kind assimilate into theirs, it was the first time I’d experienced discrimination and at a young age no less; of course, there were others in that land that suffered similar ailments despite being natives: orphans, baseborn, even kids with disabilities. I’ve heard their stories and they ain’t pretty to think about it, aside from hindsight; even if one were to throw shade onto every single one of them, the fact that nobody came to give a single shit about their collective existence was just disgusting: an agrarian nation–state regarding their existence as a blight, despite their potential. Anyways, my status as a foreigner added more fuel to the fire which is odd since even though I spoke the language of my homeland, my people were found congregating way below the equator ever since the beginning of our civilization; that being said, I always knew I didn’t feel like belonging here or there. I was a stranger because I ate fish, a diet that, while not completely taboo here, is frowned upon and only fit for the likes of pets and other sea creatures; don’t get me wrong, we may be able to hold down fruits and vegetables with some grains but there weren’t much anyway at the end of the day.”
“What exactly was your diet before you came all the way here…?” the raven–haired observer asked Krill.
The little guest took no time in filling out the list whatsoever, “not much at all: rice, bread, beans, noodles, plums, peppers, garlic, onions, turnips, leeks, scallions, cucumbers, spinach, radishes, lettuce, tomatoes, kelp, seaweed, shrimp, squid, octopus, lobster, crab, oysters, crayfish, abalones, loach; I could go on for another hour…”
“Not on this network you don’t, I tell you what…!” Freeter wistfully snapped as a few members in the crowd were looking green in the face, one going so far as to let loose an assortment of lukewarm hues upon the dark flooring in a chunky salsa splattering about in a wayward cluster, “it seemed that you would’ve had quite the ball in the Dawn Horizon.”
“You wish: these Casey Cunts kept me from catching fish…!” Krill interjected, shocking the host quite a bit.
Freeter furrowed his brows and said, “now, now, you can’t say that on the air either; this is local access at the end of the day…!”
“More like end of the night, if you ask me; anyways, this was the first time I’d gotten in trouble with the law at a young age: the other times were when I vandalized some grave and slung bodily waste at some reactionary…” the little guy laughed out loud, much to his host’s bemusement, “oddly enough, since I was a minor at the time, the worst they’d done was throw me into juvie… At least then, I had gotten my three hots and a cot, so long as I could keep hold of them; as a matter of fact, compared to the Crown and Country, even the delinquents there never treated me like I was some kind of a toilet or bidet. Anyways, there was a draft for the next war and considering who they were going off to fight, I’d felt so unwelcome I said to myself one day, ‘screw them bastards, I’m outta here’ and the only way off the archipelago were the ships; of course, I couldn’t just go back home, let alone be sent back, even in hindsight. I’d stowed away on the nearest cargo boat from Ekkusu to here and hid myself away from both cast and crew for two months, only subsisting on fish they’d caught and dead birds too, the latter that made me sick to my stomach for a long time and it was a three week–long trip so it was only a onetime thing, nothing more–or–less. Before long, I had ended up reaching my destination with a really bad case of diarrhea; couldn’t get out of bed in week and the first homeless shelter kicked me out because of what I did in the bathroom: it took two whole weeks to get the whole damn thing resolved some people had to go on a diet to save water.”
“Must have been a real pain for the lot of you, am I right…?” Freeter said, wincing about with an otherwise straight face so to speak of.
Krill couldn’t care care less as he said, “they said, ‘welcome to the real world, blackfoot’ but these skank pussies never knew the real world like I do, let alone where I came from; anyways, I found myself in jail again, this time for beating up some fat–cat from the big city on the other side of the other pond. It wasn’t the first time I ended up in jail again but what I did to him was enough to have me facing the prospect of serving the rest of my life behind bars; the fact that I was found to be fighting some bloke and his brother at court would’ve cemented this as a forgone conclusion and maybe even worse. I wasn’t alone though: there were others that were wailing on these doggone stubborn bastards, especially that hot broad Fluttershy; I didn’t care much for that female guard, at least not as much as that old fart Greystoke, but seeing her slug one of the fatheads in his stupid wretched face brought a smile to mines. Of course, that didn’t last long, especially since this would mean I would end up facing them again, something that I feared happening when one of the goody–two–shoes scouts bit the big one before the war broke out. I never imagined so much could come to pass since that fateful day: the fat man losing his wife, Twily getting burned, Zuul going to jail, and don’t get me started with Flutters; I did consider trying to reunite with Lighthouse out of respect for a woman who was so good to me but she’d made up her mind. After the war had ended, I had resolved to make something of myself rather than spending it wallowing about on anger or fear: as a young twenty–something with no skills or prospect, I was no better off as I were back in my homeland of Wry or the Dawn Horizon; of course, that changed when a tech boom was on the rise in peacetime.”
“What did you do in your spare time before you’d went mainstream…?” the raven–haired observer asked his gingerly correspondent amicably, “I’m sure that it was a pain for you to make a name for yourself the first time around…”
“It was, it really was… between being a petty malcontent foreigner and a postwar jobless grubber, finding someplace where they could take me in as one of their employees was next–to–impossible, especially since they knew who I was; I couldn’t help myself digging up food from the garbage…” Krill replied to the host in question.
More faces had started to become jaded with nausea, increasing the pile of bile nearby almost instantaneously; nevertheless, Freeter persisted, “how did you stop then…?”
“I came across some cheap comic on the way to the nearest poorhouse; apparently, some miserable soul kept whacking off to it far too much: pages were so stuck together it almost ended up get torn to pieces…” the little ginger said before barely suppressing a sneeze with his left hand, “it probably reminded me of my childhood’s end: maximum the hormone and whatnot. Anyways, they reminded me of the manga I found myself reading about from my time in the Dawn Horizon: I never had any money of my own and even if I did, they wouldn’t let me buy their shit, let alone set foot into their store, mostly… nose chopping imps. I’ll tell you one thing though: if I had own my very store, then I would put up a sign that says ‘we reserve the right to refuse service to citizens of the Dawn Horizon!’ They can suck on that for all that I care; after all, they’ve planted the seeds of destruction by screwing up my homeland, so anything bad that happens to them is what they deserve. Back on target, I started to try my hand at drawing; even at a young age, they were usually shit in my opinion: eyes were too crooked, legs were too short, and I had even remembered the time I drew their governor with too big of a head. As far as I can, if there’s any trace of my doodles or the stories they’d told, they’re gone now; I’m basically at war with emptiness itself ‘cause I’m sick of it all: starving to death, the fact my parents are dead, living in a frozen war–torn peninsula, being treated like a punk ass bitch, getting into trouble all the time, having to run away, and even living in a world without friends. Even though there were people who helped me before I’d found a reason to stand on my feet again, the entire class was only place that made me feel whole again to the point of forgetting why I’d left; Greystoke was one of those people since we’d shared so much in common: foreigners who’ve faced discrimination before coming here and the fact that we lost family. Granted, I never knew that he had a wife and two kids, let alone troublemakers who acted out because he’d spent so much time away from them on a regular basis but what these bastards did to them and their mother was truly undeserved; even thinking about it reminds me of another family that was torn apart: I believe one of the girl’s name was Applejoan or something.”
“Applejack…” the raven–haired observer had interposed, catching his guest off–guard with little warning whatsoever.
Krill didn’t mind of course and continued onward, “anyways, she’d seemed like a fine piece of work in my opinion: strong, intelligent, and the like; it’s almost unbelievable that something like this would happen to her family, much less herself. Speaking of which, I was able to recover a sheet of music from the wreckage of the farmland: it was called ‘Days Gone By’ and reading it made cry so much because it had reminded me of my childhood at Wry prior to leaving eastward as well as everything that happened; as a matter of fact, even the melody was similar to my homeland’s national anthem. Thinking back, it makes me realized how far I had come since then and how blessed I was to leave here while I still had the chance; at the same time, I feel guilty for abandoning my native tongue, especially since that I was reluctant to use it in the Dawn Horizon with the expansionist fervor going strong at the time. That being said, I was able to learn two more additional alphabets, especially… their wrong–footed squarespeak; of course, that also meant learning new letters I didn’t know exist until then: F, V, and Z. They were hard to pronounce because of how I was raised; as a matter of fact, the word ‘zero’ came out of my mouth as ‘jelo’ instead. Of course, that’s how they were able to identify me as a Wryly: apparently, they can’t help themselves but utter lallations and whatnot; still, I found no humor in their speech patterns for what they did to me and my homeland. As a matter of fact, the only thing I could think when Persimmon Tart came to my mind was how I was treated, not just as an inmate alone but also as a foreigner in another land: they caused me and my kind so much grief on a regular basis my tears turned to hot fire and he was the explosion born from that faulty heater: slaying his only wife as she died tried saving their bundle of joy. None of my parents ever got this far or treated me like some kind of abomination to be put out of anyone’s misery so to speak of; sure, there were times they yelled at me and hit me but they were doing their best to provide me a life worth living for, something that this bastard should have at least done for his wife and kid. People like Persimmon don’t deserve a wife and/or a kid, let alone a life and I know I didn’t deserve to live after the way I had acted; of course, I also know that raising a family takes commitment, patience, discipline, and the vigilance of a hyperactive weasel, something that far too many of us should understand and Greystoke ain’t the only who knows it. The Spartans know this well just as much as they know how to make weapons and fend for themselves; it’s just a shame as to what had took them so long to get this far, let alone what had inspired them into doing it all: what these surviving Apples had been doing left them with little time to make friends or trust the princesses. I don’t trust the princesses either but it’s not because I hate them or anything; I just don’t feel comfortable betraying the homeland any more than I’d already done since my departure…”
“You’re not thinking of returning, aren’t you…?” Freeter had inquired almost immediately, prompting the lone ginger to simply stay in his very seat, “you’ve accomplished so much here in the kingdom; what could possibly be remaining back there to convince you to think of doing so…?”
“My parents, of course: I want to find out where they’ve been buried but goodness knows it won’t be easy what with the changes going on; even thinking about it gives me the shakes and the like, especially since I’d come this far and at a young age no less…” Krill answered somberly without any hesitation whatsoever.
The audience was enamored by the guest’s reply, prompted their collective host to speak up, “well, in any case, we brought along a special guest to play you a song that you wrote before you go; as a matter of fact, here’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for: ladies and gentlemen, ready and able to sing Days Gone By, please give a warm welcome to Countess Coloratura…!”
A round of applause fills the air as photons were now fixated on another person: like Krill and Freeter, the individual in question was brightly skinned; however, the new guest was a female. Unlike the men in the spotlight, her visage wasn’t outlined or obscured by some eyewear but a jet black veil did much work even as the fabric did little for her opal orbs matching highlights. Speaking of which, Coloratura’s attire matched her deathly dynamic shroud despite being lively: blouse, gloves, skirt, stockings, and shoes all made sure she was dressed in the height of fashion. The few exceptions freed from the darkness therein were a purple scarf wrapped around the woman’s pretty little neck and a tender rose red as the madder sky worn on her left breast pocket. In spite of the dark makeup matching her indigo hairstyle, she was in a stoic mood nonetheless, freed from whatever emotions of the past yet ready to express them in little to no time thereof. Now it would seem that all the world is, or rather became a stage for the likes of Coloratura, thanks to the raven–haired observer’s announcement and the crowd of people sitting yonder too.
“Good evening, Manehatten; are you ready to party?!” the woman shouted jubilantly from behind the piano, much to the cheers and tears of the few fanatics within the audience therein, “this song goes out to a very special friend of mine who is not here with us tonight but should have been nonetheless: I’m sorry, Applejack, hope you are doing well in life better than before…!”
“Great, even after all these years, people are still talking about her…” the small ginger cerebrated silently while everyone else was in a loud celebratory mood so to speak of currently.
As a matter of fact, the moment she’d started pressing the instrument’s spruced up yet elastically coated basswood keys with her fingertips, the civil savagery of the people was put at ease by the notes that came out from there in a somber yet uniformed melody filled with tact and poise to the point of bringing out a tear in a few of the listeners in attendance. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YrtkA8grW4)
After a third of a minute had passed, Coloratura began to lend this tune of hers, something more – a voice much different from the tone she’d spoken in not long ago but nevertheless matching it:
Until the day mountains decay  
And the seawaters run dry  
May Providence protect  
And preserve you and I
Hibiscus and thousand miles  
Filled with mountains and rivers
The crowd started to join into the refrain alongside the singer, albeit in a small potency so as to avoid overlapping the latter in question; still, Krill exercised his right to remain silent overall:
Friendship and families  
Are what love delivers
As pines atop peaks stands firmly  
Unchanged by wind and frost  
Like the armor of harmony  
Our spirits shan’t be lost
Coloratura freely sang alone again naturally, unperturbed by the audience before the likes of her.
It wasn’t long until they joined into the refrain, finding more like–minded peers increasing about; even Freeter himself was now in awe of how the simple song therein was bringing them together, the lyrics and melodies alike:
Hibiscus and thousand miles  
Filled with mountains and rivers  
Friendship and families  
Are what love delivers
The many skies though void and vast,  
are high and watery
The singer reached a high–note at the end of the word, topped off by a lonely yet brief reverb all throughout the way: she couldn’t help herself but to shed a small tear from the corner of her right eye; nevertheless, she persisted, ready to continue on like the admirers whom were now growing:
their light of day and night alike  
are equal and free
Hibiscus and thousand miles  
Filled with mountains and rivers  
Friendship and families  
Are what love delivers
Both Coloratura and the spectators harmonized with the refrain once more, this time with feeling; in addition, the host nearby was starting to hum alongside to the tempo of the song.
Krill started to see the singer with his own eyes, enthralled by the lights shining at her form:
With our hearts and minds as one  
Let us give it our all  
Be in ill or glad tidings  
have Harmony emballed
Hibiscus and thousand miles  
Filled with mountains and rivers
Everyone in this room began to sing the refrain once more, from the youngest member to the oldest, even Freeter and his guest had currently joined in alongside Coloratura effortlessly:
Friendship and families  
Are what love delivers
“Thank you all…” Krill quietly cried out.
Soon, the lone host had walked up onstage and said, “Countess Coloratura, everybody; we’ll be right back…!”

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                           Shade                           
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter ten of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds that this chapter will deal with another heavy subject matter proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; unfortunately, this won't come with another chapter you can be able skip to yet.
Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to take the time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now very close to the end of the story; somehow, the new year had still provided us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that is the now: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough.
However, let me just also say that, with many thanks aside, I hope you can be able to stomach this chapter now even more than the others before it and still have the strength to continue onward in staying tuned though the passing times; nevertheless, I want to apologize for letting this chapter go on longer than I had expected: it seems that chapter two's reputation for being the longest has been officially dethroned.
Shade
The skies were darkened about with the moon and stars completely obscured by a large squall line of clouds all thick like butterscotch pudding. Traveling across the log horizon of the dull firmament were brief flashes of electricity slithering about like venomous snakes of the distant pasts. A roll of thunder quickly was crackling the sound barrier as downpour touched the solid earth underneath, conducting onward without a care. The topsoil and a few floras upon themselves were already moistened by the pitter–patter of such minute droplets being pulled down by the gravity. To say that the loneliness was currently filling the dead air served as an understatement even if a single grain of truth had been planted previously.
The woodwind sounds of whistling cut on through the cold nocturnal air as it was followed by the constant percussion of steel parts in rapid succession. Within the distance, an enharmonic orchestra already came in the form of a slender yet rustic locomotive locked in a continuously circular movement. Rapidly yet carefully, the synchronicity of melody was currently on repeat with the very grinding of metal accompanying the whooshing of smoke clouds. Standing nearby were another set of tracks empty unlike the road being taken with a series of lights and billboards litter about infrequently so to speak. A couple cars which were in the process of being pulled alongside by the engine lit up brightly, albeit dimmed compared to the saturated landscape itself.
The many coaches coasting throughout in motion had some insides more elaborate and dry, not to mention the fact there was life already stirring about. The ceilings were a brownish gold, illuminated by a series of lanterns nearby with furnishings elaborately telling many stories of past cures all in teal. The walls closing in where the windows took refuge were of a brighter color so to speak, bearing the qualities of flashy lightning while remaining static. Underneath it were an abundance of the brilliant green in a cluster of swirls in every possible shade for the observant to even acknowledge and the like. Seating was of no consequence for the inhabitants within the car, although the lack of density therein was making whatever the tranquility unsettling.
Of the few in attendance, one passenger was seated next to the windowsill itself, looking at the mobile storm and the static scenery beneath it all. He was just a simple man of a lower stature, certainly evident by the booster below propping him right up to see lower corners of the looking glass. The lowly occupant wore a conical sedge hat overhead but it did little to keep the strands of ginger hair at bay, not that it was of any concern. Such a complexion he wore was framed in shadow, obscuring much of the wearer’s face save for a camouflaged bead of sweat trailing downward. Upon the inhabitant’s body was merely some simple attire: an orange neckerchief, a green vest, and some blue pants were found to be instantaneous. Kinesthesia was almost nonexistent as with many of the passengers already discovered taking refuge away from the rain and thunder currently. All that was within his line of sight were a plate of dishes and a glass of some transparent green liquid presently and accounted for on the table.
“Goddamn, I can’t believe that I had allowed myself to eat this much; I’m worse than all the fish in the sea…!” the little guy groaned painfully as he’d struggled to lift up his beverage with a single hand.
In spite of the stress he was feeling he could now taste was remained: to him, it'd brought forth a soothing image reminiscent of a koala bear licking leaves; of course, the scarcity reminded the consumer all too well.
As soon as he was done, a lone shadow appeared from abaft the little guy slowly, prompting him to turn around and make contact: a singular woman. She was of a darker complexion compared to him, not to mention taller too with her hair long and blue like oceans and skies holding the world in. The woman was also wearing clothes, albeit with uniformity enforced: a jet black ensemble of a hat, blouse, skirt, and boots were worn straightaway. Even more apparent were a cluster of freckles bringing attention to the silver eyes shining bright even as the owner had remained stoic nevertheless.
Almost immediately, the woman in uniform informed the little guy of the situation at hand, “excuse me, just to let you know, we’re going to be making a stopover at the mountainside shortly; I hope that’s okay with you, being that it’s going to be a fifteen minute before we get back on schedule.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m doing just fine by myself although I wished I could’ve taken it easy with the food that I’ve ordered: those sponge fingers and fish soup ain’t coming to terms with each other yet…” he'd groaned, feeling his stomach popping fresh with percussion; in addition, parts of the visage became green in seconds, “where can I find the bathroom…?”
“It’s two coaches away from the caboose behind you, sir…” she’d quickly answered, guiding the stout passenger with her hand.
He jumped down from his seat and began scurrying off after saying, “thanks…!”
The fact that the little guy was on the move was of no surprise or concern as he was swelling about with nausea; after all, there weren’t that many people so to speak. A lonely left hand was held up in front of his mouth as time was winding down on him like gravity taking hold and increasing its force ever so slightly immediately. Under no circumstances was the little guy going to leave everything to chance; such forbidden subjects were ineffable for a reason: no one had any patience for them.
Heeding the attendant’s words, he’d found a nearby door and latched onto it, opening to find what was on his very mind almost instantaneously. Unlike the carriages the little guy was in, there were no luxuries of any kind thereof whatsoever: windowsills, chairs, and tables already nonexistent. As a matter of fact, the reason for it was plain to see, especially for him: the spacing was capable of occupying one whole individual, nothing more. With only the sink and toilet all in close range, the overall walking distance between themselves and beyond were inconsequential in the very least. Even the environment itself was rather different: steely like a dan but less rigid; additionally, the cleanliness was way up to code with pleasantries. In the grand scheme of things, especially in the little guy’s mindset, the only task at hand was simple to a fault so the margin of error was small.
Needless to say, he saw that the many shades of gray as well as the lights shining about were swirling about to no end in sight, circular like wheels but lacking in direction whatsoever. In spite of the changing courses, the little guy still maintained control and sure enough, a chunky salsa splattered about into the metallic bowl where the water had resided to absorb all of it.
Coughing about, he’d stumbled out of the latrine, catching the attention of a wayward stranger nearby as some words went into his ears at once, “hello, sir, sorry to trouble you at this moment but can I have a moment of your time please…?”
“Huh…?” the little guy had stammered on slightly, “what’s this about…?”
“It’s nothing much, it’s just that I’ve been in the pursuit of a master thief who I have reason to believe is on this train: he goes by the name of Wolfgang the Cliffhanger and has been wanted for a series of crimes throughout the globe; I’ve been tracking him down for years and so have many others…” a gruff voice had replied to him.
It wasn’t long until the little guy looked over to find a towering man standing before the former: the latter barely needed any introduction besides what had been said not too long ago. Only the lanky figure’s attire rivaled in simplicity as well: a vermilion trenchcoat draping over the brown suit with a purple tie laid out over the white shirt and a brown hat and boots. That being said, the speaker’s hair was certainly presently, especially in the form of some jet black sideboards directly over his suntanned integuments far away from his cleft chin. Already within the towering man’s conjunctivas were thin pinpricks barely devoid of color save for some chocolate, framed by the sternness of the cold flame already held backward.
The smaller counterpart only had enough strength within himself to ask the lanky figure slowly, “who the… hay sandwich… are you… and what does… this have… to do with me?!”
“I’m Inspector Joe Monie of the C4: it’s short for the Cosmopolitan Crimefighting Constabulary Commission…” the speaker introduced himself, pulling out a small flat case to unfurl a goldenrod badge which had resided within, “I’m here because you were able to recently acquire the localization rights to one of his former lover’s film, ‘Zombies in Aquanos’. According to some fans of her work, the changes you’ve made recently were enough to arouse controversy, prompting him to sabotage to premise before it even starts: it seems that the editing crew has managed to figure out who the deuterogamist is based on due to your theories.”
“How is he going to do that and why would he give a damn about the flick at all?!” the passenger exclaimed with a grimace as he composed himself.
The taller individual was unfazed as he’d answered back, “simple, he’s a master of deception, capable of disguising himself as anyone of his choice with a crew of three other partners in crime: Diddy Jeff, with his deadly sharpshooting skills; Rosalie Margo, the beautiful and illusive rip–off artist; and Chet Jaxen, a specialist in mixed martial arts and sword fighting.”
“Sounds like they’re a whole mess of trouble, especially that swordfighter: my kind has a word for his people – sibun…!” the little guy snarled upon hearing the last of these names being uttered, “let’s hope I never see that fucking twat…!”
“Don’t be too sure about it: I was able to pick up one of Wolfgang’s calling card before boarding the train earlier; you might wanna have a read at this…” Joe said to the passenger, handing over a red card.
The little guy flipped it around to find some words and read aloud:
“Krill,
your hodgepodge of cinematography will not make it on time as scheduled…
– Wolfgang”
“Y’see what I mean; where did you keep the roll of film?” the towering inspector inquired as the aforementioned passenger tossed it aside, “it’s imperative the case must be protected until the premiere…”
“Don’t worry about it, I was able to make some copies before the news came out: even left behind my own logo just in case someone tried to steal from me and pass off their shit as one of their own; kinda ironic how some accused me of plagiarism and the like…” Krill yawned as he started to turn away from Joe immediately.
This singular act alone had caused Joe to speak up at once, “where you going; don’t you see how serious this is: Wolfgang is going after your stuff and you’re just going to walk away like it’s nothing?!”
“There are times when I'd fought to the bitter end over anything that ended up in my possession but I’m too sick and tired to carry on: dinner was no friend of mine as you had seen earlier…” the pint–sized passenger palavered onward as he perambulated away from the inspector at once, “anyways, you do what you can do best; I’m going to bed…”
“Aren’t you even worried about him sabotaging the whole premiere?!” Joe exclaimed, raising his voice.
Krill didn’t care in the slightest and replied, “I’m way ahead of him than he’s able to know of so to speak; I’ll see you later…”
“Damn it all… he has no idea of what danger this sneaky bastard is capable of: Wolfgang’s been stealing and stealing all throughout his life ever since I’d laid eyes on that thief; even the more state–of–the–art security measures didn’t deter him!” the inspector cerebrated silently, “Krill, on the other hand, is either some kind of a crazy son–of–a–bitch or the dumbest one I’ve ever met!”
It wasn’t long until the pint–sized passenger came across another door, opened up to find a small bedroom onboard the locomotive in the darkness. Only the luxuries of a windowsill and furniture were found to be in close range, cleaner than a wolf–whistle and chaste than a catcall so to speak. The fact that they were devoid of the refuse cast off by the inhabitants was proof that neatness was the norm, emphasized by the ligneous form. All in all, the scenery beyond itself became picaresque despite the shine in the storm still taking place, helped by the growing abundance of trees.
“Well, here’s to a goodnight’s sleep on them, the Friendship Express; Rosemound, here we come…!” Krill yawned before jumping into bed, the deluge still beating against the glass as he’d remained unperturbed by them; before doing so, the sandals were discarded and its owner was wrapped within the comforter, currently seeing darkness and the like as a result of the weariness.
Time had passed on through space alongside with the inhabitants whom were drifting aimlessly as the stars amongst the never–ending blackness that had floated on, each of them to prompt any wayward traveler to harken back to the memories of life when the richest beverage kept their spirits up until their next destination and from the mouth of madness. Of course, time itself was the only thing that remained constant in the ever–changing plane of existence where many variables had come in all shapes and sizes, coexisting alongside either in unions or divisions thereof as they transcended boundaries without incident to say the very least; then again, almost all of them succumbed to the fold sooner or later. This interval, however, would prove to be a special case since that there were those who have found themselves still standing rather than stumbling and falling to the depths of their failures nevertheless; however, not all of them were doing so as the whole wide world turned on its own axis: out of many of those in question, there was indeed only one.
Out of the jet black void was a loud gasp emitting from within, creating an anomaly that had given it some semblance of life whatsoever: a silent voice being nothing more than ragged panting in between intervals. With little warning thereof, there was a brief shuffling about instantaneously, making contact with the small dimensional boundaries already surrounded throughout the passing time, intermixed with the creaking. Long after, the fabric was found brushed up against itself within the darkness, the texture being a whole different story even as the walls closed in on the lone owner’s minimalistic movements with brief clicks all too soon. Surely and faintly, a small snort or two notwithstanding, the oxygen itself had gotten sucked into all the nostrils gently as the nearly silent voice now doubled in a couple of seconds thanks to the choking respiration initially.
Just as the shuffling about was continuing onward, some loud whistling was heard followed by an announcer, “attention all passengers, we’ll now be approaching Appleloosa in a few minutes time: if this is your stop, then we ask you check your belongings and hope you have a safe night; either way, thank you for choosing Friendship Express, the homeland’s finest in rail transit…”
“Hah… motherfucker of all dreams here: found myself accused of plagiarism by an angry mob with torches and pitchforks; glad that’s over…!” Krill, one out of the many denizens, panted as he’d awoken from his slumber, sweating about with a smidgen of scarlet strewn about, “I gotta get some water to cooldown; the heat is roasting me alive…”
Before the pint–sized passenger got up from the bedside, he’d found himself staring at the night and fog through the looking glass with the precipitation and condensation congregating about. To say that he was unable to see beyond the windowpane unlike earlier was and understatement; as a matter of fact, as soon as he’d laid his hand upon the surface, the iciness almost seized it. Under no circumstances whatsoever did Krill ever even dared to try again, despite the already fluid perspiration clinging onto his integuments and clothing to no end in sight so to speak of.
“Now arriving at Appleloosa, please make sure to be aware of your surroundings: the railway is not responsible for the damage or disappearance of personal private property of any kind whatsoever; in the event of injury or death occurring onboard, the train will make the nearest stop and emergency services will be notified as soon as possible…” the voice from earlier blared.
At that particular moment, the pint–sized passenger took note of the announcement as soon as movement had ceased, lights within the train still up and running, though a few of them flickered about; this made him jump a bit yet he’d maintained his composure and said to himself silently, “I thought that they’d updated the fixtures and the like; still must be undergoing renovations. No matter: just a few more hours to go until I reach the end of the line; after that, smooth sailing from here – no press, no stress, no mess to compress…”
“Excuse sir, can I have a moment of your time please…?” a familiar voice reached his ears: it was the woman in uniform from earlier holding a black cone attached to a speaker with numerals by a matching hose, “there seems to be a woman on the telephone calling for your name…”
“Who is she; why is she calling me and from where…?” Krill stuttered, barely registering the small details therein.
The attendant onboard didn’t flinch as she’d replied, “couldn’t say although judging from her tone, it’s urgent…”
“Alright, I’ll try and set the record straight with her; must be a crazed fan…” the pint–sized passenger groaned as he’d obtained control over the new device given to him, “who is this…?”
“Ya have some nerve making trouble with the wrong family, ya offshore punk…!” another feminine voice invaded his ear with an eerie hiss, catching the listener off–guard without any warning.
Shutting both eyelids before reopening them up once more with feelings of annoyance, Krill muttered about, “who is this and what’s going on: why are you calling me at this hour; matter of fact, how did you get this number?!”
“Our little apple bushel has some family that didn’t like what ya did earlier, know what Ah am saying?!” the speaker snarled again, maintaining her ground without some form of hesitation whatsoever, “ya no better than those miscreants who took away two of mah granddaughters’ hopes and dreams, leaving behind despair and nightmares in their place. Even mah grandson had tasted death twice, which says something compared t’ much of mah family; speaking of which, Ah don’t have much time going in details as t’ who else suffered after what was done t’ me so Ah will focus on the others: Auntie Applesauce, Barbarella Seed, Apple Rose, Apple Strudel, and don’t get me started with mah own pride and joy of the family!”
“With all due respect, lady, I don’t any of these people whatsoever so don’t go hanging their deaths onto me; that being said, I’m sorry about your losses but you don’t hear me yawping about my dead parents…!” the listener barked.
Following the tirade, the caller said to him in return, “oh, ya’ll be more than sorry when they’re done with ya; Ah may have perished long before these confangled modern doohickeys started taking over the world by storm but at least Ah can deliver ya one simple warning: make peace or pay the consequences…!”
“Pay the consequences… what the fuck does that mean; just who the fuck you think you are to say such things?!” Krill screeched indignantly, “what is your name and number; where do you live?!”
“Ya’ll know soon enough; after all, yer in Appleloosa, the Apple family’s territory… goodbye, Krill…” the voice on the other end growled before cackling uproariously at a higher decibel, prompting the eponymous speaker to edge away from the cone; afterwards, all that he could hear was ringing in his ears overtaking the rest of the noise around himself almost instantaneously.
Consequentially, he’d jabbed two fingers deep into his ears and started uttering the colors loudly, flexing his jaws in the process, “red… orange… gold… green… teal… blue… plum… red…! Red… plum… blue… teal… green… gold… orange… red…!”
“Bravo… bravo…!” a lonely voice cheered on with some clapping, not that Krill was able to hear it until both canals were freed once again to let the air come and go as they pleased; however, it wasn’t something he took joy in as the highly pitched droning still remained, albeit at a lower volume so he can hear the background, “you’d have made a nice crooner back then…!”
“What…?” the pint–sized passenger stuttered.
It didn’t take long for him to be greeted by another man of a similar height and build to Joe; the only differences were the most brilliant of skin tones and some musculature upon the former too.
Even the observer’s attire balanced between both Krill and the uniformed woman, to the point of donning a more flat hat; he also wore a yellow shirt, brown vest, boots, gloves, and black pants. Unlike the inspector from earlier, the towering man a full set of colorful hair, every strand of it was radiating with some brilliant red as a majority had barely ran past the nape of the neckline. Additionally, the observer’s eyes were more in line with that of the attendant in question, albeit more along the lines of a moderate harlequin as they stared into the pint–sized passenger at once. Only things found firmly upon the towering redhead’s visage were but only a cluster of freckles bridging the gap over his nose and a winning smile with its glow letters away from glowering.
Either way, the observer held out a silver coin in his left hand and inquired, “you don’t look like you’re around here, are you…?”
“And who must you be: another one of the locals…?” Krill spat back despite holding in his emotions a bit, “I bet you’re one of his fans here to steal the film; well, joke’s on you: I’ve made copies beforehand…!”
“Relax, I don’t even know what exactly you’re talking about, little boy; besides, I’m not here about the talking pictures, just what to know: what would you do if you found a book with some money in it, like say, ten bits or so…?” the redhead had chuckled, putting the ginger at ease so to speak.
Krill couldn’t help himself but to sweat as he replied, “that’s a trick question; no one would be that stupid to leave that much money behind…!”
“True but hear me out on this one: what if I was a marshal who saw you take the money and run; what would you do then?” the tall man laughed after asking, finding the strength to stop himself, “I mean you could buy an awful bunch of things with that amount: get a stylist, a train ticket to the BECC, a shiny new bell, some food, even some advice…”
“THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY ONE COULD CHARGE FOR THIS MUCH…!” the pint–sized passenger uttered around rambunctiously in a shrill tone.
The redhead remained silent to Krill’s outburst and said, “not unless you’re from the other side of the sea, of course; they charge for everything there…! As a matter of fact, compared to getting caught by a sheriff, you would probably get beaten within an inch of your life by the local for petty theft. Speaking of which, we folks up north tend to get a lot of visitors coming and going; in addition, my mother was the founding matriarch that built this town on hard work and determination. She’d once said that if you were notice every single thing that goes on nearby certain apple trees, then it’s a sure sign that you can find a Zap Apple ready to grow; they’re not like your ordinary apples: they have rainbows on them.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t get what you’re saying here; who exactly are you and why are you telling me this…?” the ginger wheezed as he’d looked up at his towering counterpart directly right in the eyes, “do you always say that to people that come your way…?”
“Sweet Apple Acres was found to have changed greatly after what had happened recently; it’s a rather serious matter since townsfolk are mighty hesitant to stay here any longer so I’m trying to piece things together: even I didn’t know what was going on despite having lived here all of the sudden…” the redhead spoke back in turn, this time with a stern demeanor in his tone.
Krill stood his ground and asked, “are you the law around these parts, sir…?”
The towering man hardened his gaze and replied, “absolutely not… Y’see Sweet Apple Acres was no simple farm – it was my home; I’m struggling to come up with even one reason why it must have gone away so easily. We had some stiff competition since when I was just a baby yet even we kept it under control, unlike some folk of course; of course, that’s not how she sees it: she feels like her family’s name had been personally tarnished since the day some men came to town. And this is where I come in to ask you something: did you happen to run into my family’s farm some time ago…?”
“Barely, though I don’t seem to understand what you’re talking about; this place is a cemetery now: bunches of people died in the war were buried here…” the ginger gulped gratuitously “young’uns, old people: matter of fact, one of my classmates Swain was buried here along another’s wife and brother–in–law; some kids of his have been coming here since that day.”
“Alright then, I believe you: there’s no strand of lying inside you, despite the sweat and gulping you’ve been making; of course, my daughters wouldn’t have said the same thing though, especially after what had happened to her…” the redhead sighed, relinquishing his target from the gripping stare before walking away without a care in the same tone from not too long ago.
Krill felt a wave of relief overwhelming him as he’d started wiping away the sweat at once, calmly cerebrating about, “whoo, I’m glad that’s over; I’m not even sure what the fuss was about but the Sweet Apple shit caught me off–guard: I heard about the shit that went down but I never the old windbag had a son, let alone one that was a father of one of my classmate’s friends.”
“By the way, I think I’d caught a whiff of something fierce in the cargo bay: I think it belongs to you; please check it out…” the towering traveler’s voice had drawled on from afar, “boy howdy, that scent is worse than some rotten peaches on a hot summer’s day and that’s saying something…!”
“What the fuck is he talking about?!” the ginger winced as he ran in the opposite direction of the redhead’s perambulation almost instantaneously.
Krill moved like the wind despite being barefoot onboard, running past the few occupants nearby whom were either loading or unloading so to speak. In a matter of minutes, a black door was in view only to be opened immediately, finding all sorts of baggage in every shape and size possible in sight. Of the many laid about, one particular item caught the viewer’s eye: a tiny steely container was next to a big stone box tainted with the sight of red. Not only that, the aroma that entered into his nostrils was devoid of the fresh atmosphere but was musty and grueling, turning his face imperial green.
Krill held in his disgust and reached over to the item, only to find something much worse than he’d expected: flat like a flaccid pancake, it was a face contorted in despair and agony, soaked with only blood and wastes; before he’d inform the others of the shocking discovery thereof, something beaten him to the punch at once, “that’s my daughter’s afterbirth, not that it matters.”
“What the – SOMEBODY HELP–––” the lowly ginger tried to scream as strips of white paper grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back, making contact with a pair of lips with a tongue sticking outward; they had belonged to some much worse entity, “ackkk…!”
“Ugh, this taste is of a rotten lowdown dirty shameful liar…!” Krill’s assailant hacked out before throwing him against the stone from earlier.
When the ginger victim came to, he was greeted to the sight of another one like him, except that it was a woman without a uniform thereof. Additionally, she’d shared so much in common with the redhead in terms of complexion but they were burning bright enough to blind him. Standing about, her hair was trailing abaft before stopping at the waistline, its curls held in place with some elastics dabbed with turquoise. Plainly put, the attacker wore white strips over her curvaceous form, each of them hugging the skin tightly as they had provided modesty. In her eyes were nothing but toxic contempt directed at Krill as he was already within her line of sight by mere inches of walking distance. Snugly firmly around the assailant’s forehead was but a goldenrod diadem with its rims barely touching the wearer’s flopping ears therein. Hereon in the victim’s view were much of her skin exposed, especially the umbilicus even though she wasn’t even in the altogether.
Krill was so awestruck by his attacker’s appearance, air, and actions altogether, he’d struggled to speak, “who… who… who are you?!”
“Well, well, well, well, well, what do we have here…?” she susurrated at her target, sauntering off slowly but steadily, “my husband, Bright Mac was done asking the questions but it seems that the situation has changed; as far as I’ve learned, you told him a lie and now, I’m going to have to find out why, am I?! He calls me Buttercup, but you can call me Pear Butter, the real Pear Butter, not that side of flitch that been ripping off of me all this time…”
“What…?” the lowly victim coughed out.
His assailant grabbed him by the left hand and pulled him up hard until they’d met eye–to–eye literally in due time, the former snorted about, “answer me, your questioning has already turned into torture; we’re going to have a little talk: maybe a long talk or a short one, but we’re a talking. You’re supposed to be the big man around town but all that I can see is a little marshmallow who played with fire one too many times and is about to get burned if you don’t tell me what I need to hear; besides, I heard that in one culture overseas, if you lie, then your tongue gets cut out: of course, you would probably bleed to death from blood loss and sepsis. Anyways, let’s have a go at it; otherwise, it’s only going to get worse from here: first off, you came across a sheet of music called ‘Days Gone By’, haven’t you…?”
“I–I–I–” Krill initially struggled about before answering, “YES, I DID: I FOUND IT OFF IN SOME WRECKAGE NEARBY SOME FARM!”
“You don’t seem to do much right by yourself, don’t you: did a good job scaring you; must be the most yellow–bellied git in the whole wide world…?” Buttercup laughed before tossing the pint–sized passenger aside like yesterday’s garbage.
He was now crying like a baby from the ordeal, “please, why are you doing this; what did I ever did to you?!”
“It’s not what you did to me that was the problem; it’s what you did to my family: that music was dedicated to a family I left behind for a man that I’d loved…” the bandaged woman snapped back at her victim with icy rage, walking towards the latter without a care, “of course, what would you ever care about family?! You do nothing but steal, cheat, and lie your way to the top of the class just because you’re fresh of the boat like some tourist with the utter gall to even hope to coast through life doing little as possible while my kind has placed our home firmly on the world map!”
“That’s not true; THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE…!” Krill wailed.
She kicked the man in the stomach and spat, “growing up, we fair Pears had been tilling the soil from sunup to sundown alongside our supposed rivals, the Apples next door; even then, they never stole from us, killed, or destroy wantonly. Despite being equals, it seems that all throughout my life, I had been taught that they were rotten to the core for reasons I can’t comprehend since I was a baby. What an amazing lie that was: the Apples were just like me and my family, right down to the very bone; even the fruits we grew had tasted the same. It’s just a shame though, even without our love, I had grown up to see how stupid we were acting: the people would care less about which of us was better and while the town didn’t hate us, they couldn’t find the strength to love us back either or so it seems. What’s even more shameful is the fact that now there’s an era of fear and loathing in the world: people are out there selling their bodies on the street for a roof over their heads, poisons are being pushed out in place of food they would have eaten with friends and family, and more fights are breaking out faster than acne itself. And then there’s you, here on the anniversary of Princess Celestia’s solitary rule coasting about through life like nothing you do is wrong yet the only time you get it right is for the sake of getting famous: was stealing my song worth it…?”
“Well, to be fair, the song that you wrote struck a chord with me because it too reminded me of home and you’re right about me being fresh off the boat…” he had coughed out with some blood in the fray while attempted to get up, “usually, the people I got into fights with harassed me about how I talk, look, and eat; this song helped me through bad times because it was our only pride. Even before I was born, I read about the history of my people and how our country was invaded by foreigners because of how close we were and the like: the Dawn Horizon was one of them and I took my first step out to here. At a young age, even I saw what kind of young were here: cripples, baseborns, even orphaned folk were being left to dry and all the old folks could think about was having the continent for themselves just because their leader was linked to some kind of icon. Because of my foreign status, I was also a target of abuse so I fought back and even I knew it wouldn’t last long; since then, the only recourse was simply leaving the country yet again for greener pastures. I never imagined how much one would care about the song or the family dedicated to it, let alone be attached to it like it’s there identity as a person with real thoughts, hopes, and dreams…”
“Either way, you should’ve thought of that before you stole from me…” Buttercup had growled, walking over to the box to unveil a purplish glow emanating from there.
Reaching into the shirt, Krill pulled out a sack and snuffled, “here, take my money: a hundred bits even; are we square…?”
“Good grief, I know this is blatantly obvious but you really are a piece of work…” the bandaged woman had sighed with annoyance as a set of thorny vines and chains slithered about from here, “what you owe can never be paid back with money…!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH…!” the pint–sized passenger screamed as they latched onto his limbs without warning, dragging him off in the abyss within their point of origin in spite of their captive’s efforts while she’d watched onward with a smirk.
Buttercup tore off pieces of paper clinging to her body and bit the left forefinger so hard she’d drawn some lifeblood: after droplets of it sank into the material, she'd cast aside the debris into the area where Krill’s voice echoed while moaning joyously, “quiet you…”
It wasn’t long until all of the sights and sounds in any shape or form whatsoever had disappeared completely: no people, places, things, or even ideas; just pure darkness and then some.

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                           Clean                           
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter eleven of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds that a previous chapter has recently dealt with a reference to a subject matter proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, I would like to apologize for denying you an option to skip ahead recently, especially considering the fact that I'd crammed in too much dialogue and the like: the references alone were just too good to ignore.
Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to take the time to say thank you for never pulling out too early since we're now in the second half of the story's progress; somehow, the new year had provided us with a new hope to have and hold with tender loving care rather than yet a totally lost cause and the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for the future that's coming on: I believe at this rate, everything will make sense soon enough like before.
One last thing before signing off, I hope you can be surprised about this chapter now even more than the others before because some special guests are going to be joining one of our fateful protagonists in this chapter below: two canon characters will be joining her, a local and her mother at the beginning and the end respectively; of course, it'll not be the end until I say otherwise so please stay tuned and enjoy it, okay?
Clean
To say that today was good would prove to be highly subjective to fault whichever one person was asked about such a trite thing; that being said, there was peace and prosperity nonetheless. The golden sun itself was found having already emerged from the log horizons of daybreak’s bell, delighting both the optimistic and hopeful instantaneously embracing its light and warmth. The numbers of people in attendance, however, were few and far, reflecting of the nearly barren environment and the structures found within them, purposes, or lack thereof notwithstanding. There were mountainsides raging with growth and erosion in the process of their trying times, bearing witness to the barely stagnant civilization taking form nearby within their slow pacing. Tones were neutral due to their utter lack of coloring and an abundance of extreme mediocrity; that isn’t to say that life itself was nonexistent but rather the other way around, despite numbers.
One particular denizen was found standing about over a ligneous platform out amongst the few, the proud, and the geeky: a lonely woman staring at the rails up in front of her view. Her very skin was one of the fairest within the land and beyond, a bright coating full of milkiness deeply inside the pores as they were currently freed of imperfections so to speak of. The woman’s eyes had possessed some light turquoise shining rightly like crazy diamonds in the rough, capable of moving to the ends of the earth with due diligence and humbleness. Her locks were a dulled purple that were running past the nape of the neckline despite being short and strait, matching the eyeshadow she was presently wearing over both lids. The woman wore a vividly indigo frock covering up much of her body only to stop past the kneecaps as they were held in place by a thin black fabric, matching the heavy boots.
The woodwind sounds of whistling cut on through the cold daytime air as it was followed by the constant percussion of steel parts in rapid succession. Within the distance, an enharmonic orchestra came in the form of a rustic and bulky locomotive already undergoing the tender process of deceleration. Slowly and steadily, the synchronicity of music concluded gently when the grinding metal was accompanied by the whooshing smoke clouds nearby. Instantaneously, the doors slid open to unleash many passengers now taking their own spot onto the same surface much like the lonely woman earlier.
Amongst the sea of faces was another woman sharing many similarities with the observer, from the eyes to the skin quality; of course, the former was different. The lemony traveler in particular was plain enough to see with teal eyes, despite the capability of moving heaven and earth with tenderized tranquility and grace. The subject’s locks were a hot pink running all the way down to the midsection, adorned with a barrette in the form of a white swallowtail butterfly on the right. Adorning the traveler’s body were a white long–sleeved blouse with some emerald green pants and some ocean blue trainers, all that covering more of her skin.
“Pinkie…?” the purple haired individual had blurted out, catching the carnation colored counterpart off–guard consequentially.
The lonely traveler herself looked around amidst her small reference pool’s worth of peers and squeaked out, “huh…?”
“Over here…!” the observer said to the lemony subject, this time the former’s voice rising slightly while waving, “it’s me, Maud…!”
“This must be one of the sisters Pinkie told me about years ago: she looks so different from her and yet she thought I was her; if it weren’t for my hair, then she would’ve missed me…” the pink haired individual cerebrated as she started edging forward to the eponymous speaker almost immediately.
It didn’t take long for the purple haired individual to make contact with her carnation colored counterpart currently, bringing a small tear to the former’s eyes before speaking to the latter, “I’m so glad to see you: for a moment, I’d thought that I would’ve been able to see her again; even your hair reminds me of my sister…!”
“Actually, I’m Fluttershy, her friend; you must be the one that she told me about, although I never imagine how different you two are…” the aforementioned woman introduced herself as she was now found to be squeezed by Maud’s gentle forearms instantaneously, “anyways, Pinkie really wanted to come along with me for the whole trip yet she’d gotten sick so I’d went alone.”
“How is she though: mom’s been worried sick; what has my sister been up to…?” the purple haired individual had asked her carnation colored counterpart consequentially at once.
Fluttershy struggled to look Maud in the eye and replied at once, “nothing much really: Pinkie’s been visiting the Cakes now and then at the old town, although she’d mentioned that there was another farmer also staying with them as well to look after her brother along with his wife and kids. She’d never told me that Carrot Top and Carrot Cake were related, let alone sister and brother; of course, it was starting to make sense somehow: they had looked so similar to one another, much like her and myself.”
“Speaking of which, you did looked like her honestly…” the purple haired individual laughed lightheartedly, “anyways, how are your folks…?”
“They’re pretty nice: mom’s a gardener, dad’s a collector, and my brother… he’s just living; although, I also happened to have adopted a child to raise him as one of my own…” the lemony traveler answered while blushing about.
This prompted Maud to ask Fluttershy another question, “what is his name and how did you become a mother all of the sudden…?”
“I can’t say, at least not here and now: it’s a long story and I don’t want anyone else to be listening in on our conversation…” the lemony traveler squeaked about as she looked around at the people nearby herself and the lone observer.
Maud turned around and spoke somberly, “I understand: besides, mother and father are probably getting worried sick about me being gone too long, especially after what happened to them years ago; I’m pretty sure that Pinkie told you about it…”
“Yeah, I know: if it’s any consolation, then you probably want to know why I’d considered adoption too; besides, I feel guilty knowing that my family is safe but I wasn’t…” Fluttershy had replied, following after her dulled correspondent just as the platform was cleared in enough time, “so, this is Rockville, so much like my old hometown: tied to the ground and filled with people. How long have you lived here though…?”
“For most of my life, especially since my birth; the only exceptions were to get my education in geology: they said that I had potential at a young age…” Maud answered as the train started to pull off from the adjacent station, resuming the orchestral movement that had signaled its arrival so earlier ago while its other observers dispersed.
The lemony traveler looked around to find how scarce yet so populous the community was and inquired on the dwarfing demographics, “hey Maud, was your hometown always this small when you were growing up…?”
“Of course, which is just the way they’d liked it: my parents believe that I’d possessed much potential as a geologist so they’d sent me off before I’d turned eighteen; I still wish it could’ve stayed that way though…” the titular townsperson had retorted timely almost immediately so to speak of literally, “you have no idea what happened while I was gone. I still feel guilty about what they had gone through to this day: the things they did to mother, father, Marble, and Limestone; they deserved far better than to be treated like livestock.”
“What have they done to them…?” Fluttershy had started stuttering, stopping in place with growing trepidation.
Maud started to shed another tear, this time with the clean intent to hold back the deluge as she’d clenched her left fist before saying, “things that made me close to feeling emotions I never thought I would giving into since my youth: imagine yourself having the ideal family in a remote location and setting out, only to comeback to find their lives torn to pieces like common tissues!”
“What do you mean by that, Maud: how could they be torn to pieces like common tissue; did something happen to them to make you feel this way…?” the lemony traveler said as her dulled correspondent started shaking, “please tell me…!”
“That won’t be necessary: my mother would take over from here; besides, we’re almost there…” Maud interjected, pointing to a certain structure.
The particular area in question was a quickly growing phenomenal homestead free of stereo but otherwise brimming with life and liberty nonetheless. Rather than copious yields filled by a potential golden harvest, it was perhaps rather barren save for an overabundance of rocks in all shapes and sizes. A wooden fence overlooking the area sat still on the solid ground, planted neatly all throughout the way as it’d kept the stones away from the house. In close range was a single solitary windmill standing by as it provided the home with its own brand of gentle breeze like sentient ligneous lifeforms. Nearby on the opposite end therein was one of the mountainsides lurking about, posing of little consequence to the women present and accounted for.
Speaking of which, Fluttershy had noticed a few of the people living here and said to herself, “so this the rock farm Pinkie told me about…”
It wasn’t long until the purple haired individual reached the house upon the land underneath the risen sun, raising her left hand to knock upon the blue door; in doing so, a frail and gaunt voice echoed from beyond the time, “who is it…?”
“It’s me, mother: your daughter Maud; I’ve brought a weary traveler, a friend of my sister…” the eponymous tenant answered back with a hint of concern, “is it okay if she could come in too…?”
“Allow me to turn the lock, my child; ‘twill not be long…” the voice from behind the wooden sighed as the clicking of metal was heard at once.
Almost immediately, the lone tenant was revealed to be of the same gender as the purple haired individual and her carnation colored counterpart; unlike the two, age and weight were greater. Dark green tresses were found already tied into a bun, save for a few strands out of place in the finite neatness tainted in white for both Fluttershy and Maud to bear witness to instantaneously. A part of glasses with a golden frame were held securely in place by some of its petite chains, overlaying the tired icy blue while underlined by concaves thicker than the two women already. Much of the elder’s body was cloaked in a jet black dress from top to bottom with some thin white lines intersecting one another evenly; additionally, she wore a gilded brooch with a gem. Standing firmly underneath her right hand was a plastic stick shorter than all three of them, held in place by the bespectacled tenant as she’d already latched onto its hardwood handle gently.
It didn’t take long for the purple haired individual to reach towards the elder and embrace the target while crying, “mother, I’m back: pardon me for taking so long but I brought a friend of my sister; hope that’s okay…”
“Thou meanst Pinkamena, mine prodigal progeny?” the matriarch slightly hissed, shooting off a frown in the lemony traveler’s direction, “perhaps it seems that her sosaid friend canst help but to bear resemblance to herself…”
“Sorry, but we’re nothing alike: I’m just a year older than her, ma’am; as a matter of fact, I already have a little brother…” Fluttershy gulped as she’d held her ground in spite of the chilly reception bestowed by the elder in mere seconds, “I’m Fluttershy, by the way…”
“Forgive me for treating thee in such a way; thou should knowst me as Cloudy Quartz, the matriarch of the Pie family…” the bespectacled resident had introduced herself, dropping into a more placid demeanor almost immediately.
The lemony traveler stepped into the house hesitantly and said, “I’m sorry about what happened though: I could never imagine how cruel people could be to one another, let alone to you; you seem like a nice person yourself…”
“At least thy temperament reminds me of mine youngest Marble, at least before the nightmares; but enough about that: it’s almost suppertime…” the elder in black sighed as Maud broke away from the hug, “Limestone’s assisting one of our guests in the kitchen preparing the soup; perhaps thou wouldst like a place to stay at the table: we have plenty of room.”
“I don’t mind, Missus Quartz; it has been a long train ride after all…” Fluttershy had squeaked, watching one of the aforementioned matriarch’s daughter saunter off to a nearby stairwell in due time.
The elder in black heard the lemony guest’s stomach growl and chatted, “indeed it was, but thou art just in time; speaking of which, I should go and notify maiden Lulamoon and her charges: I’m almost certain that she, too, is also hungry.”
“Of course…” Fluttershy said as Cloudy Quartz headed off in the opposite direction of Maud’s pathway.
The lemony guest found herself alone in the room and the time to close the door abaft so as to maintain whatever privacy had returned in the process. Fluttershy had quickly studied the background and found it filled to the brim with taupe shading, already held up with some large pieces of the timber. A thin carpet was found in the epicenter of the floor nearby the lemony guest, bearing different hues of purple as they were separated into some rings. A pair of some dark blue curtains hung near the windowsill, portray the dying light that was the golden sun as well as the scenery underneath itself too. Standing in front of Fluttershy was a fireplace with logs dry and barren, resting in between a drawer and shelf containing many ceramic tableware.
As the lemony guest edged towards the stairway, she’d heard a loud crash of porcelain in the adjacent wall followed by a shrill shriek, “OH DEAR…!”
“Oh my goodness, sounds like someone’s in trouble; I better go and help…!” Fluttershy ruminated instantaneously, daring to uncover the source of the noise nearby, “I hope she won’t get mad though…!”
It didn’t take long for the lemony guest to depart from the living room immediately, restoring the ambiance therein.

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                           Dirty                           
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter twelve of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds this chapter will deal with similar heavy subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this was by far a strong note for many readers all, and like before, you're all given one last option to skip ahead to the next one: whether or not you'd take this offer, it's only up to you to do so nothing more.
Aside from disclaimers long ago, I want to --- you know what? F:heart: https://static.fimfiction.net/images/emoticons/heart.pngk it: you've made it this far so close to the end there's no use in me repeating what I'd said before in the disclaimers, especially after what y'all just gone and went through; of course, this will be the last time you'll skip ahead of this chapter anyway but seeing that it's coming to its conclusion, such redundancies are best avoided at all costs.
One last thing before I sign off, I want to let y'all know that this was the easiest chapter for me to write, especially considering this is only about Fluttershy and the guilt she feels since the war has ended: to help me with this, I've bothered to watch some television and read some manga posted on YouTube; guess which of them are and you'll be given a preview for the next story although it'll be different from this one and the prequels themselves.
Dirty
It was a dark time and place, and with good reason too: there was an abundance of clouds as black as coal shielding the light of the silvery moon. Of course, the terrain in question was solid and certain to the point of possessing a finite number of dimensions for any of its observers to even notice. The fact there was an atmosphere of moisture hanging within the oxygen had provided little relief whatsoever for any lifeform caught in the area. Apparently, it would seem that concepts like sustainability were of no consequence altogether, too oppressive to even allow a stable nurturing birth.
Having said it, there was a lone structure surrounded by significant signs of life bustling about: a spiral building literally became the center of their attention. Although simplistic like many of the residences encroaching it, the area was circular in nature with a very frosted chocolate roofing topped off by a spike. The base of the building was predominately white from the ground up with all of its very windows offset by the carnation accents intersecting about. Even with thin pieces of timber at the rims inside them, they worked together to insure its own structure would be held up completely like a mighty bundle. Directly up in front of the small stairway was an arching plum door within its quadrangular hot pink frame darker than the accents nearby and above itself.
Edging towards the building was but only a lonely woman found staring outwardly into the dark and stormy crowd in a melancholy trance. Her skin was one of the fairest within the land and beyond, her coating reminiscent of lemon chiffon in a light shade of such milkiness. Lined round the lemony woman’s pupils, some teal shined brightly like crazy diamonds in the rough, capable of moving heaven and earth. Etched into her very scalp were some thin traces of hot pink hair already matching her eyebrows but lacking in overall density so to speak. Rags were the only thing worn over the lemony woman’s body, all down–to–earth with only brown while barely reaching down knees. She was overwhelmed by the crowd but remained silent, just like them although her own eyes and ears were expectant of things to come.
“A wrongdoer appears before you, Fluttershy of Cloudsdale, daughter of Flower Power and Cape Mantle: she’d committed acts of lies and lust, confessing to them both, and begged for mercy; to demonstrate penance, she’ll cast aside all pride and artifice, presented as newborn… to you, the good people of this village…” a lone voice announced, too deep to belong to the named subject.
Standing in front of her was a stout man, inches shorter but nonetheless older with his snow white hair all over the face, matching the long simplistic robe worn over himself in its entirety; although his eyes where a tranquil bluish gray, one of them was wandering about before alternating with another but not at the same time even with the stoicism within his demeanor.
After turning around, several men approached Fluttershy with a stern look: one of them was dark–haired, also wearing all–white clothing in the form of a suit; the other, although wearing white hair, donned a midnight ensemble instead. Nevertheless, the two whom were close to the lemony woman took no time whatsoever in removing the lone article of clothing she’d been wearing, forcing herself into the altogether with nothing but air and sweat already clinging about. Now that she was bared in front of her peers, her eyes falter slightly as she looked at the rags having been eviscerated by the party of five, especially the two whom were directing their attention towards the crowd without emotions.
It didn’t take long for Fluttershy to be pushed by someone else, sharing the same gender but wearing a modest all–white combo of a dress and headscarf as well as bearing pink gloves matching their hair, although the latter had a full set of it underneath the fabric; in addition, the former even noticed the same teal opalescence yet had no time as one word was heard: “shame.”
The lemony woman got on the move, accompanied by the five men as well as the woman in white whom ranged the bell every ten steps at least. The bearded elder in white stood by and watched Fluttershy’s bared form being surrounded by the likes of them as they joined the formless crowd. Though the masses allowed them all safe passage, they’d still maintained their distance between themselves to the lemony woman’s embarrassment.
“CUNT!” a gruff voice spat out in Fluttershy’s direction, breaking the listener’s dying stride, “HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, TRAITOR…!”
“Whore… WHORE…!” another gruff voice invaded the lemony woman’s ears, also bearing the same gender as the latter.
Fluttershy kept walking even as the crowd began to jeers, heeding the bell and its owner’s chant, “shame…!”
“WELL, WELL, WELL…!” another male voice mocked, belonging to none of the men guarding the lemony pedestrian but a standing spectator, “THE 'TITS OF KINDNESS' HAVE ARRIVED…!”
“Shame…” the woman in white still chanted, even as Fluttershy was beginning to be pelted with vegetables at once.
As they’d walked along the flat road, the men next to the two women were calm on the outside but thinking all the time: so now it was the audience, commenting on what the lemony listener did and didn’t do, and the readers as the aimless, ambiguous observers; but, suddenly, the very man in black seen thoughtfulness for the dumb and geniuses using inspiration and enthusiasm.
Breaking their concentration was a petite gingerly freckled woman; clad in only a jade ensemble of a beret, sash, and skirt already matching her toxic glare as she’d shrieked at Fluttershy directly, “I’VE HAD EVEN THRICE AS MANY COCKS AS YOU, TRAITOR!”
This had earned the younger counterpart a shove from a different man, a platinum blonde in a brownish gold suit and black tie stepping up to the mobile plate. All the rage built up within the gingerly woman at the lemony correspondent was still in the overwhelming majority, despite the former’s dishabille thereof. Unhappily shuffling about, Fluttershy was still being pushed to move both physically and vocally as she’d remained guarded by the unequal sextet around herself.
“I’M A FOREIGNER; SUCK ME OFF…!” another man roared after storming up towards the lemony woman, flashing his jet black cloak to bare his skin before being pushed away, “SUCK ME OFF, YOU BITCH!”
Even though that Fluttershy was being protected by the five men and lonely woman, the various spectators kept shouting at her; even worse, the onslaught started to gain some volume to back up the sentiment itself: one man spat at her neckline while another woman threw some molasses onto the latter’s skin without a care in the whole wide world for consequences and repercussions.
Soon, the lemony woman fell down onto her knees, baring her loins to the jeering crowd apathetic to the pain and sorrow she was feeling all throughout. Reluctantly, strength had made its way back to Fluttershy as she’d regained her standing but was still being prompted by the chanting and ringing abaft herself. Before, the lemony pedestrian held it in mirthlessly due to the quietness of the glaring masses; now, she was letting loose a deluge before themselves and them.
“I’m sorry…” Fluttershy whimpered about.
It wasn’t long until the lemony pedestrian bore witness to another familiar structure: a tall, enormous tree large enough to house life beyond normalcy burnt out and about. The glass windows on them were broken up to the point of being beyond repair, threatening to fall away into nothingness due to the unstable nature forced upon the very glass. Only the short wooden fence had remained with its own intact door guiding itself right away to a scorched door abaft throughout the only unbeaten pathway over the very lake. Here where the weeds and skeletons standing out and about against the murky muddy waters with empty burrows the size of rabbits in clear view of Fluttershy’s viewpoint.
Almost immediately, the lemony woman was now being kicked aside towards the direction of the ligneous ruins by another dark–haired man in matching attire with a small anorexic grin, laughing about, “REST IN PISS, YOU ANIMAL–FUCKING BITCH WHORE…! WE’LL BE HAPPY TO SEE YOU GO TO TARTARUS AND ROT…!”
Running towards the remains, adrenaline surged throughout her body as she was no longer being prodded, followed, or guarded by the sextet while at the same time left alone to cover her ears while tears fell before its owner’s face. Happiness was nonexistent for Fluttershy as the cheers and jeers of her witnesses had still burned brightly within her moistened eyes and ears despite being far away from the people and the place they remained within not too long ago. Only the smoke and ash were of better comfort for the likes of the lemony pedestrian, lacking the life and emotion within to do to as the people had done to her recently even as she cried profusely to no one’s regret whatsoever.
“So, this is it: I’m going to remain in the shadows of ostracism forevermore, even despite my kindness for all creatures great and small…!” she’d sobbed, collapsing nearby the tree trunk in exhaustion as her sandy feet gathered some lifeblood, “even that wasn’t enough to save them or my child; the dead will remember my indifference and cacophony instead. I came here to this town to find acceptance and belonging but after seeing those pets being burned alive before my very eyes, I don’t even deserve to be a veterinarian, not since that day: I was too weak and powerless; only when Princess Celestia spared me did I strengthen back up again. The lies they’ve told of me let to the deaths of countless innocent animals I swore to protect and nurture in this household and the whole world just watched it and I let it happen nonetheless. Burned alive in my own home before my very eyes and they laughed like it was nothing to them; how dare they, but I remember and so have they: a true friend sticks up for their rights no matter what. Sadly, I don’t even deserve to be a friend to any species whatsoever, not even after all those years; I have no home, no friends, no family, not even the right to call myself a bearer because of this. My only hope's that whatever happens to me won’t fall onto Jasper: it’s bad enough that his real mother was forced to conceive him thanks to these awful men; I cannot bear to see the pain and suffering be unleashed unto the little boy for something beyond his own control. If anything, those girls should go ahead and forget about me for all which I can care; besides, they have their own problems to solve and I don’t want to kill them with mine: Twilight has her brother, Rainbow has Scootaloo, Pinkie has her family, Rarity has cancer, and Applejack has to survive. As for the others, I expect they'd do the same; after all, they have much to live for unlike me: Greystoke has his kids, Lighthouse has a fiance, Krill has a career, and Zuul has been imprisoned. Either way, I hope that they'll live long and prosper for their sake, as well as for their families, their friends, and their homeland too: at least, they'll be better than me, a lonely manically depressed failure of a disgrace to veterinarians throughout the whole world itself, let alone the forsaken homeland of mine; goodbye forever…”
Fluttershy then took in another long breath and subsided onto the fertile soil with her line of eyesight now seeing more darkness than the environment she was in, her tears finally stopping up as she was now left completely alone to her very own devices so to speak of, unperturbed yet lugubrious due to the physical and emotional pain she felt much earlier because of the townsfolk.

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                          Firered                          
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Author's Note
Hello there and welcome back again to yet another new chapter of Alumni After All, the one story out of many of my craft to go above and beyond the oneshots I've given you since the inception; suffice to say, the past chapter from before were by far a strong note for you all yet on the bright side, we're nearing the end of it completely.
Aside from disclaimers and thanks, I have a little confession to make: seeing that you've noticed a new character joining into the story recently, you'd be right for expressing anger that he's now appearing since the whole romance debacle of Equestria Girls; of course, you need to be reminded that this is no romance story whatsoever and that his role in it will be to serve as a replacement for their posthumous classmate Swain.
Speaking of new characters, I have brought forth two nurses needing more exposure than Redheart whom hasn't made an appearance at the story at all since Ocular Spectral Therapy, Snowheart and Sweetheart; in addition, I also happen to include canon character Claude and an original character name Tristan, aka Trissie from the fan artist, mustlovefrogs: she makes an physical appearance in the story not only as the long–suffering divorced single mother of the young Twist–a–loo but the sister of Claude as well.
Firered
A sky full of silver linings were soon etched about, swirling over the earth in its broken patterns as patches of some blue were breaking dawn without a care. A flock of birds in various sizes and shades soon soared so serenely, not even gravity dared to pull any of them down towards the solid plane of existence. A small civilization was started to carry on with its own lives and times, living and breathing around their happy little abodes topped off with so much hay. All pedestrians were being greeted with an abundance of some calm gentle breezes currently surfing across from the grassy knolls and to parts unknown. Aside from the town itself were a nearby forestry with a road as its guide and smoky mountains raging with growth and erosion from the trying times therein. As far as any lifeform was concerned, the smell of moisture was more enough to provide a sigh of relief and reprieve, courtesy of the brilliant green beneath.
Out of many traversing about in this here environment, a lone man was standing out and about as he’d sniffed the dense atmosphere before themselves. His skin was shining brightly like clean sand from the supersaturated beachheads, sparkling about as it was already being reflected by the sunlight. The man’s hair was spiky and matched his weary eyes, bearing the dyed deep blue of the ocean floor where tales of untold riches had been concluded. Adorning his body was his simplistic attire: a black hoodie with a blue shield of thunderbolt on the shoulders, ruby red jeans and some silver sneakers.
Standing before the lonely man himself was an enormous building residing in the very outskirts of the town he was already at. It’d stood up as high as at least three stories tall with a pair of stone chimneys stretching upward as they’d remained separated. The very roofing had style similar to the likes of many residences with the adjacent town, albeit composed of uniformed wood. Residing above from the very entrance was but a big red circle with several pink hearts; all were sequestered by a white cross. Surrounding it already were such countless windowsills made of the same material and shape but otherwise in such various sizes. All which had remained out there were a pair of olive doors resting underneath an awning up in front of a dirt trail he was on.
“Okay, Flash, you can do this: just walk inside the hospital, ask for the young lady’s name, and go see her; it’s that simple, so much so that even your grandmother can do it…” the aforementioned man had cerebrated after taking in a long drag of oxygen from his very surrounding.
It wasn’t long until he’d traversed through the partition up in front, greeted by a sight cuts above than whatever stones could’ve been thrown. The ceilings were in a brownish shading style, many all separated into intersecting but otherwise equal lines with domed lanterns in the mix. All the walls within the room Flash had entered were but a lighter hue than the brilliant green left behind in the outside world he’d came from. The beige flooring was interspersed with some set of teal carpeting that had looked like it’d been purchased at a bargain before being cleaned. Every geometric corner nearby the entrance was occupied by a potted plant with an abundance of leaves so spacious to cover the man’s shoes. He could also see that many other individuals already sitting on olive colored chairs were either being the well–adjusted or under the weather.
Flash looked around to find three women standing out and about a few yards away from his line of eyesight, already nearby a desk at this very moment in time. Defined amongst themselves were likenesses in fair dignity, possessing commonalities between the very threesome: darker complexions and somber emotions. Nevertheless, they still had some significant differences between each other that even the man in question was quick on the uptake to acknowledge so instantly.
Speaking of which, these particular feminine individuals had a sense of fashion more subdued than the common folk themselves in attendance in the very environment, let alone his very attire alone. For starters, only two of the triumvirate was nurses in uniform, hence their very insignias: one wore a purple dress while the other donned a yellow ensemble; the remainder was just a lonely visitor. Secondly, the employees’ hairs were coldly colored, save for accessories: the corpulent one was purple and white in a bun while the thin one wore blue in a caul; the loner was a frizzy brunette anyway. Even their eyes overall were cool like Flash’s hair, albeit with some differences: of course, both the dark nurse and visitor had brighter irises themselves; as for the lighter nurse, there was some green. The skins they’d worn on their bodies beneath their textiles even showed some variations: the heavyweight bore freckles, the lightweight was closer to the man’s tone, and the loner was in the middle. To even show how much the visitor was no different from him, she’d donned some mismatched attire which was fitting for the occasion: a red sweater matching her eyeglasses, black jeans, and sandals.
Flash watched as the harlequin nurse held up a clipboard with the left hand while stating calmly, “Peppermint Twist–a–loo, nineteen–years–old and a hundred sixty–nine centimeters tall: her father is a scientist whose whereabouts currently unknown; her mother a mail carrier from the countryside…”
“Yes, that is correct: Briar and I used to be a married couple about two decades ago and the year after our honeymoon is when we’d been blessed with our own baby girl…” the frizzy brunette replied without hesitation yet the moisture within her bright blue eyes was about to be unleashed at once, “I was so naive to think we would be together forever, the perfect family no less…”
“And look how it’d turned out, though if it’s any consolation, then at least you’d held out the longest; not that many parents could handle the strain…” the freckled nurse had sighed softly, infected by the visitor’s melancholy already.
The lonely man moved forward quietly as the lightweight in yellow spoke, “it seems to me that dear old dad had the audacity to jump ship the second she’d nearly suffered and died from that stroke, and all because of the investors pulling out; what a fucking pain…!”
“Snowy, have some respect please…!” the heavyweight counterpart snapped crossly upon hearing a sniffle from the mother, “this is a child we’re talking about…”
“I know, and if anything, she’s blessed to be alive long enough to make it past childhood’s end, let alone the war: creatures these days don’t care who they hurt until someone stabs them in the dark or takes a shot at them right back at ‘em; that being said, not all kids are innocent though…” the harlequin nurse wheezed before setting her eyes onto him.
Flash was unnerved by the lightweight’s grimace but found the strength to speak up, “sorry if I happen to be interrupting anything; I'd just overhead you three talking about Twist and I was hoping to see her again like before…”
“So you’re the boy whose been sending all those get–well cards, even after what happened…” the frizzy brunette had sobbed as the lonely man backed away from the threesome afore himself, “it’s a miracle that you did the right thing in saving her, despite the lives my daughter had taken…”
“It was the least I could do, soldier or civilian: considering what had happened to her, no one deserved to see these kinds of things at a young age, especially when these damnable demons disgraced the Crown and Country this way; they deserved to rot for what they did to her and those farmers…!” he’d said calmly, looking down at the flooring underneath their feet directly.
Snowy had laughed mirthlessly, much to the detriment of both women already in attendance, “at least that’s something we can agree with…”
“Anyways, her uncle Claude is currently using the bathroom as we speak; on a similar note, her former classmate, Apple Bloom showed up with her own mentor yesterday: they’d brought her some Zap Apple jam…” the freckled nurse said, defaulting back to normal, “you should’ve been there though, Twist was finally starting to open up lately, or at least more often than the others. We had some other patients who had opened up during the weekly sessions: most of them were attempted and failed suicide bombers much younger than herself; as a matter of fact, one of the surviving Guides confessed to attempting a murder–suicide. It’s just depressing, seeing and hearing stories about children being violated, tortured, killed, assaulted, and the like these days and ages and here in the homeland no less; as a matter of fact, Rarity ended up here for trying to drown herself and her sister: she was ranting and raving about how some punk destroyed everything her family had made for themselves. Turns out she was developing a tumor in her brain that made her act this way: it’s nothing serious for the most part, but it had me worried nonetheless; of course, as much as it’s horrifying to lose one home and livelihood in the war, murderous, suicidal, and antisocial is no way to go through life.”
“I know… I just want to know… HOW’S MY BABY GIRL?!” the motherly visitor had finally wailed, catching the people off–guard.
The heavyweight comforted the frizzy brunette and cooed, “easy, Tristan, your daughter is still doing fine: she’s just been having some nightmares about seeing some soldiers she’d killed doing unspeakable things to her and the like; other than that, Twist is being well–behaved like the other patients…”
“At least, that’s a start… I still can’t believe the war has created so many monsters in people’s clothing: the military was supposed to be free of them but it seems that it’s not the case…” Flash had sighed looking away from the feminine individuals, “it makes me wonder if my parents had ever dealt with them…”
“Things could’ve been a whole lot worse with her: my niece could’ve been collared and dragged out to some schoolhouse to be gang–raped until she'd died from the exhaustion and/or snapped into some disease–ridden cackling sex slave of the Cavern; then, the poor bastards got me to worry ‘bout!” another masculine voice was heard piercing their ears.
The identity in question belonged to another individual, sharing the same gender as the male visitor albeit with some significant differences. For starters, the new arrival was portly, just like freckled nurse herself yet had been bearing some musculature deeply within his lipid form. Secondment, the heavyweight man was also brightly skinned like Flash, albeit being more in tune with the peachy bleachy tones of said fruits. Third of all, the second man wore short puffed up tresses as black as the nighttime sky and not just over his head; anyway, he was clean–shaven. Like many of the people in particular, this heavyweight’s eyes were coldly colored but with a moderate orchid poisoned with such indignation. Donned upon the clashing form were an enormous orange shirt, some long gray pants, and lavender boots with a slender turquoise accent.
The initial male was uneased by another yet asked, “and you must be…?”
“Claude… Claude Reins… I’m a performance artist and puppeteer or at least I used to be; in addition, I’d also ran a restaurant years ago, at least until the war…” the masculine heavyweight introduced himself, “I’m just glad my wife wasn’t around to see this happen or what these bastards did to our kids…!”
“You could say the same thing with my parents, although it’s left me with bigger shoes to fill…” Flash had said with a sad frown.
Claude lightened up a bit and replied, “don’t take it too personally, words can’t express how upsetting this is for us single parents, especially considering that Tristan and I are siblings. I’m angry at the fact our kids had been targeted just because, but disgusted would be the better term: we were raised better than this fuck shit; besides, Fluttershy was the Bearer of Kindness and even she got crapped on with these accusations. Back when we were young and in love, we had hope and faith that everything we do would be for the good of our friends and family, one hundred percent: Briar was a hard case alright… but he’s not the worst of the worst; I’ve read plenty of times where people have caused harm to others in manners far too beyond the pale. The Smiths and the Pies were one of their victims; not even Rarity was safe: tried to strangle her only sister just because some libertine had his way with her after killing their parents and the family cat too. Truffle kept waking up screaming and crying in the middle of the night sometimes thanks to these bastards and my girlfriend, we never spoke to each other again, not that she did anything to either of us though. I’m not sure what Shake could’ve done had she lived but she would’ve fought all the powers of Tartarus and the like to protect our son, if not avenge him; Briar would’ve gone on the warpath too but I suppose that would mean Twist–––”
“Please don’t start that again; it’s bad enough that we had to learn of what she’d done, but don’t take me back to that day…!” Tristan cried aloud.
The raven–haired onlooker went over to the brunette’s side and soothed her, “there, there, dear sister… it’s over now: Twist is safe…”
“I know that but for how long…?” Tristan had wept, struggling to maintain control but to no avail whatsoever, “everyday is the same since the war’s over: some of the soldiers’ families spat on me at least once a month, and the graffiti at the flower home still hasn’t been washed off…! ‘MOMMY’S LITTLE KILLER'?! It’s like the whole damn world has comeback from lunch to shit on me for letting Twist pick up a firearm and shoot some soldier in the face; I understand that Princess Luna exposed the rottenness at the roots but why go after me of all citizens?! I’ve been a good mother throughout her own life: I’m kind, caring, and helpful; I even stood by her side when she'd suffered a stroke, even after that bastard Briar dumped me over some pet project of his that fell through the cracks…! OH, WHY ARE YOU TESTING ME THIS WAY; WHAT HAVE I DONE?!”
“Please, you’re bothering the others…” the thin nurse had snapped, even as the makeup upon the visage started to melt.
The frizzy brunette sobbed softly, “I’m sorry…”
“Anyways, we should go and see her; it’s the least we can do, for her sake…” the lightweight visitor had said to the others, “besides, I still can’t get over the thought of being the guy to bring her down…”
“Agreed, come on sister… let’s find her…!” Claude said, scurrying off to guide the frizzy brunette by the hand as the two nurses followed them; afterwards, Flash was now dead last, finding the strength to trail after them.
Needless to say, the straggling sightseer was currently at a loss of vocabularies approximately altogether.

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                         Leafgreen                         
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to the final chapter of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature one no less on the grounds this chapter deals with heavy subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those ––– you know what? F:heart: https://static.fimfiction.net/images/emoticons/heart.pngk it; you've made it this far so there's no use in me repeating what I'd said before in the regarding the stuff I had y'all read since wintertime.
That being said, I want to say thanks again for putting up with my story this year, especially if you been reading the prequels as well since years ago: I honestly wished that I could have done this sooner, let alone finish it; of course, this chapter was the hardest because I was expecting to keep it short like the others but the length was ironically necessary to send a clear message not too different from another infamous fanfic involving sentient animals.
One last thing before I sign off, I want to let y'all know since I've gone back to writing a certain character, I had to rely on some media for some inspiration, especially since this will be about Flash but don't fret: it'll all be over soon enough, even if you happen to like him all the same; besides, this ending will be very special and with good reason no less.
Leafgreen
In some form and fashion whatsoever, it was as if the hope sprung eternally from underground, seeming to be overwhelmed with enthusiastic inspiration. The heavens were riddled with golden experience, free of clouds and moisture yet brimmed with air on the g string, before the gavottes, bourrées, and gigas. Below them were the trees and leaves shooting up from the brilliant green as its crimson fruits already bloomed alongside the fine flowers in the valley. The gentle breezes were carrying off so much pleasant aromas one could assume some exquisite establishment within proximity, the radii notwithstanding. The dirt road was found to be guiding its way to a town filled to the brim with buildings made of straw and hay, as well as the sticks and stones themselves. In the middle of the land and the sky, birds and bees flew about: some soared higher than others; a few were fast as lightning, and one marrying a lone fly.
In the wake of the order and peace, one identity in particular was filled to the brim with dear life as a sudden gasp cut throughout the atmosphere. A bright man’s sapphire orbs matching his hairstyle finally started to emerge from the eyelids as he began to look at the very surroundings alone. Numerous pieces of gilded metals were found donned over himself, every fiber of itself had made up a full set of armor to provide protection.
“What the – Sweet Apple Acres, what am I doing here of all places; as a matter of fact, how did I even get here…?” the metal man asked, already dazed and confused.
It wasn’t long until he’d started to take a stand, directing his gaze at the aptly named homestead and its abundant trees surrounding the barn. The encamping white fences around the premises had served as the borders to the opened field, far away from the armored man’s position. Overhead was a little orange house in amongst some tree branches, smaller than the big red barn his sapphire eyes had borne witness to earlier. Here the man had noticed a set of interlocking ladders painted in yellow and green, the latter half mere yards away from a freshly cut stump.
Almost immediately, the sapphire orbs were sat on the smaller structure, prompting him to climb up there; of course, the sudden venture was easy due to the armor already dragging onto its owner’s body compactly: as a matter of fact, each step that he took upon the ligneous stairwell wasn’t without the creaking about. In spite of the growing idiosyncratic difficulty spike, however, the armored man made it to the doorway up in front of him: although he was granted a better view of the very farmland, his mind and heart were still guiding him towards the little house on the prairie higher up in the treetop itself and its own contents therein.
As soon as he’d opened the door, he couldn’t believe what had been seen despite his functional blue eyes: unlike the homestead at large, the whole place was a wreck. Despite the smaller dimensions, it was enormous enough to host such an abundance of furniture and equipment, all of which left strewn about in reckless abandonment. The walls themselves were a better story and even then, the neatness they had all possessed was undermined by pictures of a lonely redheaded girl with circles around. Much of the floor was riddled with metal casings and bags of black powder alongside some rifles and handguns with molded wood and rusted alloys being codominant. A lone green lantern was hanging from a ceiling, already not in use due to the daylights saving time from beyond the very horizons of dawn zero in and of themselves.
The armored man was quickly greeted with the pained wispy rasp gurgling nearby him, “Apple Bloom…”
Lying amongst the very sea of debris was a lone white girl, arms and legs already splayed out yet within close proximity of one another. She wore an unkempt set of elongated tresses matching not only the apples hanging from the trees but also the puddle of blood too. The redheaded girl had worn a complexion though free of imperfections underlined by black shadowy patches underneath the lids. Despite the messy attire, she was covered by a brown overcoat which did enough to overlay her apricot blouse and purple skirt as well.
“Who is she, what is she, where did she come from, and how long was she staying there…?” he’d asked, edging carefully towards the supine redhead with no weapons of his own to defend himself, “what is the meaning of this…?”
“Apple… Bloom… jutht pleathe… forgive me…” she’d wheezed again, this time with the life and liberty evaporating from her trembling lips.
The armored man was now looking over the redhead’s body to find a hole in her chest and hot pink eyes barren too; this made his lips quiver before weeping, “truly, this is a cruel and fucked up world; what a pain: a little girl is dead.”
“Not quite…” a voice was heard, piercing his ears; the source itself was even more surprising than he could handle: it’d belonged to her, now devoid of lamentations for both the quick and the dead.
Needless to say, the dead redhead jerked upward and began crawling up towards the armored man afore her with the cavity inside her clothes still bleeding out; he was speechless yet found the remaining time to gulp, “holy crapola…!”
“Flath… do you… like me…?” she’d whispered painlessly while taking a stand at once, causing the eponymous denizen to feel his skin undergo a cold snap underneath the metal, “do you like me…?”
“Ahh…!” the armored man yelp as he slipped and fell onto the floor with a loud thud, his head nearby the door.
Just as the instinct to escape started to kick in, he’d felt his left leg being grabbed onto without any resistance whatsoever; the sensation was courtesy of the redheaded girl whom mewed, “pleathe, take me ath your trophy… Hurry… hurry: make love to me, Flath; I want you tho fucking bad…!”
“NEVER…!” the aforementioned individual cried, kicking her in the face directly with his right leg, “LEAVE ME ALONE!!”
“Aw, what’s the matter, soldier boy: you don’t like little girls who make you feel so good…?” another feminine voice had cooed, this time bearing more life and lucidity compared to the redheaded youth in question.
Climbing down the stairs, the armored man was greeted with the sight of a tall woman appearing at the younger counterpart’s side all so easily. A triumvirate of tresses was split into purple, pink, and gold curls already past the wearer’s neck as they’d been already held in place by a veil. Like the redheaded youth, the woman was brightly skinned and bore some amethyst orbs over her smile, except it was free of damage overall. Unlike the younger correspondent, this tenant was clothed to the height of elegant fashion in a flowing white dress with some gold accents. In addition, the woman wore jewelry reminiscent of the armor he had donned except they were sparkling about; even a crystal heart was there.
Flash was lying agape at the sight of another female, sputtering about, “C–C–Cadance, but that’s not even possible; everyone in this whole nation, including myself, thinks you’re–––”
“Dead…?” the titular target tittered about as she’d trudged towards the armored man tirelessly, “not quite, though it seems to me we’re not the only ones removed from the world of the living; of course, there were those who had tasted its sting, like this little girl before yourself: whoever thought all it’d take to turn her into a killer is to see some friend’s sister raped before their eyes? Come to think of it, the shame of being dishonored and left to die at the hands of those whom were supposed to be standing between the Crown and complete anarchy was just too much at all; even, Twist–a–loo understood this far too well since she was the one who stood there and watched the Bearer of Honesty moan like a dirty whore after they’d ravaged her again and again. Now that we’re on the subject, you were the only soldier stunning and brave enough to stop her killing spree from going out of hand; of course, you didn’t really stop her, but rather had tried to save her the very second she’d shot herself through the heart out of fear: the fear of being turned into another common fucktoy to be used and abused by anyone inside and outside the military.”
“But I’m nothing like these bastards; I was young and caring…!” he’d spat out with such indignation.
This caused the tall woman in white to laugh, “yet even you were too slow to stop her from killing herself and your men have themselves to blame as she is, even you…”
“What the fuck does that have to do with me?!” Flash shot back without warning, finding the time and strength to regain his position afore the very females, “I may be a virgin but even I believed in a woman’s right to dignity; besides, this girl’s way too young for my tastes, let alone anyone’s…!”
“Ah, but you’d yearned for some other pining heart, the one you’d felt so sorry for the most compared to that bleeding hearts baby: it’s a shame that the Princess’ faithful student thought of me as her sitter, especially since she found herself burned alive back in the countryside; I almost felt sorry for her…” Cadance chuckled capriciously.
The armored man had noticed the redheaded youth casting aside her overcoat with her fingertips unbuttoning the blouse she was wearing; averting his gaze, she’d moaned illustriously, “you know, I wath going to conthidering athking out at leatht one boy in my clath to be my thpecial thomeone but thothe dayth are over thankth to people like you, Flath–In–The–Pan Thentry. I came over to return thomething to my betht friend Apple Bloom before thethe bathtardth came by and did thethe awful thingth to them: their commander killed Granny Thmith and took her away while three bullieth kicked their dog, beaten and raped Applejack like the wath nothing to them but thome thlave…! Ever thince that day, I had nightmares of what they did to them and thought about what they could’ve been doing to Apple Bloom, like what happened to her thithter Applejack; I even thaw mythelf naked at a junkyard with a purple collar around my neck playing with a thex toy thoved up my rectum like I wathn’t even worth hot thit on a butterthcotch banana thplit thundae!”
“What those that have to do with anything?!” he’d exclaimed, hearing the clothes falling onto the floorboards beneath their feet as all that was left were some frilly pink undergarments clinging to its owner’s body, “I knew nothing about what they did to the farmers at all; do not pin this onto me…!”
“You were the one that had the thtoneth to confront me the day you’d figured out where I wath hiding out: they were nice and happy living by themthelveth but you didn’t conthider the pothibility that tholdierth would do thethe thingth to them; I may have thed their blood ath well ath the enemy too but whatever happened to wath on you ath well!” Twist had spat out a tooth.
Flash was speechless for a moment, staring at the scantily clad redhead with disgust and sorrow as the older woman started to speak again, “I suppose that it has gone on long enough, even longer than I had ever planned: when I’d came to this land, it was so I can gather all the love in it for myself and my army. I would’ve been able to take over this blasted Crown and Country if it weren’t for that damned bomber, Mercury Promenade, ruining the whole wedding: if only if he hadn’t gone and killed himself, at least I would’ve been able to ring his pretty little neck in Tartarus; oddly enough, I’ve not been able to find him here, at least not yet. As for you, it would’ve been nice of you to join us since you were helping these bastards ruin your precious homeland with all the sex, drugs, and violence being thrown around like dead paperweights; even I’d have preferred doing battle against Twilight Sparkle if it weren’t for her showing all these burn scars all over her body from the library being burnt down to the ground. Oh well, at least letting her be broken by those she and her precious friends had dared to trust was a better consolation prize I can leave the world with: besides, with her too broken to notice the difference between me and the real princess, even her friends wouldn’t have been able to worry about her getting too overprotective of her precious big brother Shining Armor himself. Of course, I have some very special friends of mine you would love to meet before we do away with your sorry corpse altogether: one my spies have been able to mimic your precious crush so you won’t have to die a virgin, unlike Twist–a–loo; the other seemed to remind me of that apple farmer except she seemed to be of a different color. Either way, you could say that we’re more than overjoyed to welcome you to our special hell…”
“That I can agree more…!” yet another maidenly giggle made its way through, causing the armored man to look over and be greeted with a pink cloud of mist sprayed into his face: it was starting to eat away the metal he'd wore but left him unharmed for the most part, “besides, you look even cuter without that bulky mess of plating and chainmail anyway.”
“Twilight…?” he’d cried, now in the altogether.
Standing before were two more women whom were also devoid of clothing whatsoever, both alike in fair dignity even if they didn’t express it. The commonalities between the latest additions were rather simplistic to a fault: long hair, cold eyes, voluptuous bodies, and concupiscent faces. In spite of their uniform goals, even they’d possessed their own differences between one another, something Flash was firmly aware of so to speak.
As such, these particular women were entering the house the lonely man was inside, much to Cadance’s delight as well as the redhead’s arousal. For starters, their tresses ran past the nape of the necklines: Twilight was also tricolor – purple, pink, and blue; the other was only a frizzy ginger. Secondly, their skins were already possessing anomalies: the dark skinned woman had patches of white; the lighter counterpart donned black swirls. Third of all, while both invaders had worn green outlines around their irises, Twilight bore some purple eyes whereas the ginger donned turquoise.
The dark skinned woman replied to Flash, cooing about like a stripy carrier pigeon, “oh looky here, it’s seems that nothing can be helped about the military being filled to the brim with fuckheads getting into fights with civilians rather than some enemies. It’s even shameful that you had went to all this trouble to follow in their footsteps, only to fail so miserably; apparently, it seems that our lady and mistress Queen Chrysalis has gained some more followers willing to fight and die on her very behalf, wouldn’t you agree, missus Buttercup…?”
“Oh, quiet you: Buttercup is what husband calls me, but you can call me Pear Butter; besides, I can’t wait to drain the bastard that fucked up my family’s farm and my kids…!” the lighter skinned woman introduced herself, snickering about before kissing Twilight on the lips without a care, “I just so happened to be carrying a very special concoction for the occasion. Back when I was married to him, I was able to make myself a love drug by mixing some mad honey with some Zap Apple jam: managed to get his dick up and running for three hours straight. Of course, I’m going to keep it short and sweet just for you, enough for your dick to turn red like Bright Mac’s hair so fast, you’ll be pissing blood even after you kark it from the suck and fuck the three of us are going to do to you.”
“The three of us…?” the lonely man sputtered as the dark skinned woman was given a multicolored flask.
The tricolored woman in white elaborated, “my children, of course: Pear Butter, Peppermint Twist–a–loo, and especially Twilight Sparkle; I, on the other hand, will pleasure myself to you being ravaged by their appetites until your body aches and then, I’ll be able to finish you off, sexually and violent, possibly at the same time too.”
“You monster, you won’t get away with this, not at all…!” he’d spat out as the three females transformed before his eyes: Buttercup stuck out her long tongue, Twist grew some bosoms, and Twilight unsheathed a prepuce; this made Cadance’s smile grow wider while looking at him, “how the–––”
“A foursome with only a man and three hot women is a lose–lose for all parties since unlike the reverse where a woman is given gratification by three men with their penises, one woman is forced to sit out…” the dark skinned individual answered Flash, resting her left hand onto the newly formed shaft, “however, with me bearing both genders, we’re gonna having a great time.”
“Twilight–––” the lone man blurted out before the eponymous nude silenced him with a kiss, already kneeling down with both of their faces mutually inverted as their tongues touched tips; the former was nauseated by the fact that not only the latter drew first saliva but also thanks to the nudity, another yard was now growing in full view of the other females before themselves.
The dark skinned individual was lost in the ecstasy before snapping back to reality thanks to a light kick to the fundament delivered by the angry ginger snarling about, “get your hindquarters into position, princess; there’s still two of us who want a turn with the failure knight anyway: I know my daughter’s friend wants that dick in her rear now that she’s of age for a boyfriend. Besides, it’s not like all women were against some backdoor action now and then: I had Bright Mac plant his junk into my trunk when we were young and in love; sure, it'd hurt like Tartarus initially but with a little lube, it was smooth sailing from hereon out.”
“Leth talking, more fucking…!” the redheaded tenant snapped as he’d turned over and let loose an assortment of lukewarm hues over the floorboards and clutter after Twilight broke away; this did little to stop eyeing the tumescent prepuce anyway, “I’d figured if Thnipth and Thnailth thtopped chathing after that uppity bitch Trixie, at least they’d have gotten a chance with me…! Of courthe, fatty had to go and get himthelf into a thanitarium while thlendy ended up being a bottom bitch rent boy to be beaten and raped by thomebody tho I gueth you’ll do for now, Flathy Flath…!”
“Hey, what are you ––– alck!” was all that Flash peeped as the dark skinned individual now lain behind himself, her hands around his shaft as her very own was pressed into the nearby prat; the former’s eyelids widen with shock into the blue while the latter narrowed both with lust from the purple.
Before the lone man could scream again, he was being suffocated by Buttercup’s dripping sheath between her legs after Twilight aligned his face towards the ceiling; afterwards, Twist sat over the yard within the waistline with a loud moan, facing the older woman with hot pink eyes already leering over the expanded bust.
The fact that he was completely stripped of armor, movement, and speech by the three unclothed women was an unyielding source of elation for the loner in white who laughed uproariously at his predicament, “just relax, besides, these three know what they’re doing: this body of hers hasn’t been able to consummate the union with their homeland’s champion, Shining Armor. The fact that I’ve managed to let three troubled girls have it their way with you first isn’t much of a concern for the likes of me: as a matter of fact, even I’m welcoming them to partake in indulging a treat of their own choosing; after all, this is what any princess, even one so new and inexperienced like her precious little Cadance, would have allowed, am I right, Flash Sentry…?”
“Why is this happening; what did I ever do to do deserve this: was simply joining the military enough for them ravage me?!” the aforementioned victim ruminated tearfully as they’d explored him without a care for his needs and wants whatsoever, “a normal man would’ve hypothetically enjoyed having a harem at his side, but I’m not, especially with Twilight penetrating me. It’s no use… this is the end: I’m going to die; I’m finished… Twilight, Twist, I suppose you’re giving me what I deserved; it’s only fitting… It’s like what Cadance said; my kind drove this country into ruination: Pear lost her family’s farm and her kids, Twist was driven to kill herself to escape being turned into slaves like that farmer’s daughters, and Twilight watched her home in the countryside be burned to the ground with her inside it… Perhaps, maybe wherever they send me afterwards, at least they won’t follow me; besides, these women are only acting this way cause of people like me: I may not have raped anyone, pillaged a village, or even burned a book so bad to read it would kill people, but I followed after their wrongdoers nonetheless… Guess it means the end is near for me anyway: my body is about to shut down; alright then, this is it, Flash Sentry… I must go… goodbye Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Granny Plasma: I pray that you live long and prosper; as for Twilight, I guess I’ll atone in the next life…”
“The deed is done…” Cadance moaned as the lone man was now drenched from head to toe in fluids of all colors and textures, courtesy of the nude triumvirate whom transformed before his very presence alongside the likes of her too.
The woman in white was engulfed by an aura of toxic jade, enveloping herself into the sparkling fire and electricity much too soon. The otherwise well–kept tricolored tresses Cadance wore were now a darkly translucent teal dyeing all the diaphanous strands. Her skin even turned darker, more so than the androgynous individual with the intestinal accents of aquamarine glycosaminoglycan. Cadance no longer wore the amethysts around her eyes but rather the emeralds splashing around with such accompanying precision. Even so, the floral veil and white dress combo was no more as so was the wearer’s identity; she, too was currently in the altogether.
He was able to notice the Cadance afore himself was a not too distant stardust memory, already bearing a more dense cleavage, petite navel, and wide hips within those curves of his; needless to say, she moaned with triumphant satisfaction, “ahh, it feels great to be the queen again; no more playing pretend princess with the food for my subjects, let alone being chaste and modesty.”
“What the – but how did you–––” Flash sputtered about at the newly denuded woman before exclaiming, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO THE REAL CADANCE?!”
“It shouldn’t be of any concern to you my little rudie, but since you were brave enough to ask, I’ll tell you: before Celestia or Luna had been able to notice, I was able to take her place and feed off her would–be husband’s love for her and I would’ve gotten away with taking over the city if it weren’t for that meddling dreamer…!” the imposter answered the helpless man immediately.
The other individuals laughed at him as he’d thought to himself, “so the real Cadance has been missing the whole time…?”
“It shouldn’t matter to you anyway, little boy; after all, as far as anyone’s concerned, she’s already dead as we speak, just like you and me, Queen Chrysalis…” the dark woman laughed as she sat upon Flash’s still tumescent prepuce, guiding her fork to align itself with him, “besides, I think we’ll be destined to do this forever and forever, even after you want to give up. Don’t fret, my little peon… down here, I’m the sex bomb you’ll be around to lose your virginity to for all eternity: all those men and women I’d sucked and fucked in my lifetime were nothing compared to virgins like you, Flash; of course, seeing that my servant Twist stole it away from you, it’s a misnomer but it’ll keep coming back good as new, albeit worse.”
“Hng…!” the peachy man grunted exhaustively as she’d started bouncing up and down his shaft without a care in the whole wide world, struggling to escape but to no avail whatsoever so to speak.
The carnation solution wrapped around his yard made for easy access into Chrysalis’ loose and bloody flowerbed, making his restraint pointless. The woman’s warmth as she'd pivoted Flash’s waistline caused him to pulsate and harden about when his hands been guided toward her bosoms. The lone man was in pain, both physically and psychologically, as Chrysalis was having the time of her life or rather lack thereof according to her. With each thrust increasing in speed, he was too exhausted to resist, let alone keep up with the dark woman whom drooled about with such bliss. Flash dealt a few more crushing blows to her sheath before she’d piddled away onto him without any kind of warning; nevertheless, she persisted. Soon enough, the lone man shot into Chrysalis’ wet fork, creating a solution that was thin and colorful like some orange with the juice and pulp.
The dark woman was panting about as her mouth grew some fangs and sure enough, she whispered lowly into his ears, “now then…”
“Uagh…!” Flash cried before finding some teeth sinking below into his neckline, no doubt her handiwork as she’d drunk away: sure enough, the life and color he’d wore within himself was soon starting to fade away with him still at her mercy due to the time; soon, the former became an emaciated anorexic husk as the latter had gulped, “you… won’t… get… away… with… this… Chrysalis…!”
“I already have, darling…!” the titular tyrant tittered triumphantly, separating the drained man's head with her green fingernails immediately as his neck and stub now bled profusely, despite having been made short work of herself so earlier.

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                          Photon                           
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Author's Note
Ah, you've made to chapter three of Fireflower's fanfic that goes beyond the typical oneshots made from before, a Mature fanfic no less on the grounds that a previous chapter has dealt with heavy subject matters proven to be unsuitable for those under eighteen, easily offended, and/or quickly nauseated; suffice to say, this was by far a strong note for many readers complete and therefore you were all given an option to skip ahead to this chapter: whether or not you had taken this offer, it was only up to you to do so nothing more.
As always, My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro; however, this concept of my fanfic belongs to me so I will say this line one time only: please do not steal this story or I will sue.
Lastly, let me also say that I hope you enjoy this chapter now more than the others and still have the strength to continue onward in staying tuned for future chapters later; henceforth, I will leave you with but one saying only: thank you very much.
Photon
It was once said that in times of peril, it is always darkest just before the day’s dawn; however, in this case, it had already begun despite the gray sea. An abundance of snowflakes were found to be falling from the heavens and onto the earth with the howling winds as their own uncertain inclines. Their collective target happened to be a large conurbation, a series of tall towers having already made an attempt to touch the firmament above them. Concrete and vegetation alike were overwhelmed by soft layers of whiteness piling up within the dream drop distance between the ground and the air. Hereon, the only signs of life brewing throughout the shine in the storm were various vehicles traversing about and pedestrians daring to set foot.
One particular place within that town had stood out and about in the process: while its was home to many, it was without a heart or any vital organ whatsoever. In addition, it was also devoid of color, bearing the resonance of a megalith like many of the very skyscrapers here within the city despite its own near seclusion. Taking up as much as a few blocks, a towering base was surrounded by small walls with similar structures at each corner, albeit much more circular in motion. Any wayward pedestrians caught out nearby were more than aware of its intimidating purpose; even a squadron of seven or more barely dared to pass by it. Simply put, its very formation was built on the foundation of control and segregation with little attention to moral fiber if there ever were even any to speak of.
Deep within was an open field riddled with many lines of some numerous monochromatic stones barely above the ground unlike the wooden pikes. Whatever life that would have been allowed to bloom had been snuffed out by the ice and snow; even the nosegays had been subjected to the cold. Anyone found on the premises had worn a uniform on: for most, a blue ensemble of caps, jackets, jeans, and shoes; for some, it was brown and green.
Of the many out and about amongst the very area, one person stood out amidst the others: a lone woman was found staring at the stake with conflict. Her skin was one of the best of both worlds, coating reminiscent of terracotta in a lighter shade with milkiness and some bits of it wrinkling about. The woman’s eyes had possessed some dark hazel, its shifty state of affairs were rife with earthly riches beyond the wildest of any lifeform’s dreams. Her locks were a black dog serenade offset by a colorful scarf with every color straight from the rainbow with its shades and hues crying with joy. The woman wore a long jacket that was dark blue like the midnight sky and thick purple pants with sparkles of whiteness adorned on themselves. Her heavy boots were gray like the stormclouds above which were dumping its payload onto the earth and its inhabitants yet devoid of such riches.
“It must have been seven years since I had seen your ugly face, a lowly thug of a man on trial for killing a mother of your own child; it was one thing for the lot of us to bring you down, but I never expected an introvert like her to knock out some of your teeth and here you are: dead…” the woman spoke, staring at the slab nearby her footwear with a conflicted gaze on the horizon.
She spat onto the stone so soon the slimy saliva solidified with the snow suddenly, simply thanks to the sheer cold of its current surface temperature.
It wasn’t long until the woman heard some footsteps trampling onto the ice and snow followed by some gruff coughing, “I take that you’re done with that big old shit sandwich of a man, eh Lighthouse…?”
“Messenger Bag, I still can’t believe that you’ve ended up working at this prison of all places…” she was quick to retort, turning her sights away to find the source of the conversation instantly, “I never thought that an individual such as yourself would become a shrink, especially since that day…”
“That was in the past and besides, I’ve already made it a policy to make peace with the people who’ve I’d hurt since the war ended; after all, the Princesses decided enough pain and suffering was more than needed for me to earn that second chance…” the aforementioned individual replied with little hostility.
Messenger Bag was a man without a plan yet was on a mission for something only known to him alone; of course, this was too scarce of a description. His skin was much like Lighthouse in terms of quality but a scant few shades darker, matching that of some copper toned tableware of a bygone era. Messenger Bag wore thinly rimmed glass that outlined his fiery yet tamed red pupils, controlled by none other than his very welcoming visage thereof. The man’s locks were also dark yet had some bits of star platinum within them to be easily told apart from the snowflakes falling upon themselves. Like the woman nearby, his attire was well suited to the environment, thick enough to resist the cold; however, it’d blended in with the precipitation. The only subtle differences between her and Messenger Bag’s attire were the fact that he wore a blue shirt, some green pants, and even black shoes.
She scoffed about anyway, “you’re almost the penultimate person to talk about second chances, especially after what you did to the lot of us: disrespecting the court, making fun of us, you even caused that poor young woman to risk going to jail because of that bastard, you know that…!”
“That’s all in the past and to be honest, I felt sorry for Fluttershy more than I feel sorry for him; as a matter of fact, I have come to feel sorry for that wretched man not too recently anyway…” the man responded with little care, looking at the spot Lighthouse had stepped away from earlier, “don’t get me wrong: he had to be punished yet this was crossing the line even in my book. The moment he’d ended up in the courtroom, he was as good as screwed, something that you boys and girls in the system would've happily agreed with; heck, Carrot Cake even said he was willing to give that girl a freebie for having the stones to punch that brute out. Of course, even I was surprised as to how he was able to react to the news of him being convicted by a jury of his peers, citizens united to have a little civility in defending themselves and one of their own from monsters like him: lashing out and raging against the machine that ironically showed itself to be breaking down before our own eyes. I may have wasted my breath calling out so many people left and right, including you yourself because I chose to stay rather than run, but this violence, cruelty, and murder was crossing the line even for me; besides, even watching him lose several of his teeth came to me at a shock.”
“And yet your outburst was the most shocking: not only did you call him a waste of a man, you referred to Judge Styles as a weakling, even called us bailiffs a couple of cowardly boobs…!” the woman snarled lightly.
He took in a long deep breath and said, “indeed and up until the war came to our doorstep, I had stood by those words; after all, not only was it my right as a citizen to say what I have to say, I wanted to make it clear that this wasn’t the land I was born and raised in. In school, we were taught that this country was the greatest in the world because it was founded upon the principles of harmony and spreading it; it was true for the most part but it didn’t change the fact that we still had problems of our own: drug running, assault, kidnapping, shootings, stabbings, and the fact there was a sex trafficking ring underneath our noses. Come to think of it, I remember this conversation I had with one of the inmates: I believe his name was Ponet…”
“Ponet Joyner… the Ponet Joyner… the Ponet Joyner who got busted for his role in the slavery ring down at Plato’s Cavern?!” she exclaimed loudly, choking on a few words before regaining control over herself, “get the fuck out of here; I thought guys like him were at the risk of being killed because of it…”
“Not him… according to the papers, they say he’s been responsible for taking it down completely, especially concerning what had happened with the girls they’ve found…” Messenger Bag stated.
With little warning whatsoever, a shot was heard piercing their ears, forcing them down on the ground upon listening to the speakers, “LOCKDOWN PROCEDURE…!”
“Damn, even after all these years and we still can’t help it: too many fools acting up like they own the place…!” Lighthouse had shouted as the klaxons blared in the background almost instantaneously, “ain’t it a fucking bitch…”
“Not when you come fully packed: I may be a psychologist, but I refuse to be a pushover in here, even with some armed guards all along the watchtowers; besides, it’s kind of rare for me to keep a weapon on me…” the man said to the woman loudly.
It wasn’t long until some loud barking and shuffling feet was coming their way; afterwards, they were greeted by some canines and a gruff voice too, “Mr. Bag, what are you doing out there at the graveyard? We need to get you to a safe zone; some assclown socked someone in the face with a basketball…!”
“Really, I wish I had been there to see it; who was it this time: Longinus or Jonesy…?” the eponymous psychologist asked as he slowly got up to face them, “to think that one little ball would be enough, like, wow…!”
“I’m sorry, officer but is he always like this…?” she asked, now facing the animals under her peer’s supervision.
Their owner, a bright skinned man holding an assault rifle, answered back, “beats me; to be honest, he should have stayed in jail…! Now let’s go… besides, this should be cue for you to leave; visiting hours are over…”
“Good point; I was going to leave anyway…” Lighthouse bellowed, finding the time to stand back up and be escorted by the canines’ handler, “cutie probably wants me to be ready for tonight: it’s our anniversary…”
“Ah, congratulations…!” the man had interjected.
The woman turned to Messenger Bag and said, “you’re not invited…”
“I know…” the psychologist chirped, “still, have fun…!”
“Nosey…” she muttered to herself before they had gotten inside, out from the cold literally so to speak of.
It wasn’t long until they had found themselves being greeted by the sights reminiscent of its cold exterior, especially since the alarm still blared. Only shades of gray and blue had dominated the very background, showing little to no signs of compromise whatsoever despite the red flashes. There were scores of people already being shuffled around to and fro: many were inhabitants of the area, at the beck and call of their handlers. All whom had remained here were the visitors in the middle of leaving under the watchful of their supervisors being taken in another route.
Lighthouse was quick to identify the scant number of people whom had no uniform whatsoever as the tamer said to her, “have a nice day…!”
“ALL VISITORS ARE TO VACATE THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY; VISITING HOURS ARE OVER…!” the woman heard the speakers blaring throughout the hallway, joining the people found marching off towards an exit, “PLEASE KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF: DON’T PICK UP ANYTHING; YOU’RE SUBJECTED TO BE SEARCHED ON THE WAY!”
“Damn, ain’t it a motherfucker: it’s been only a couple years and some things don’t fucking change; even taking Persimmon Tart down wasn’t enough…” she’d muttered to herself, currently being surrounded by a sea of people like and unlike her in terms of appearances imaginable.
Lighthouse was a few nine yards away from the solid gates, standing in line with the very people waiting to get out of here as soon as possible. Up in front of the woman was a checkpoint with a small group of men in uniform armed with some guns and accompanied by similar dogs. Behind herself were more people of the same mindset as the likes of her, nothing more was to be said or hear besides their ruminations therein.
Of course, Lighthouse wasn’t the only woman in attendance; as a matter of fact, she could hear some soothing shushing as well directly abaft her, “it’s okay, Jasper… mommy’s here; just be patient…”
“That sounds like Fluttershy, but how is that even possible…?” the raven haired observer thought to herself in a silent way, refusing to turn around, “I thought that she was too scared to even visit a prison, especially after what they had tried to do to her years ago…”
“What if Zuul ends up–––” a faint male voice struggled to speak, only to be silenced again in the same tone from before.
This was enough to have Lighthouse turn around and make eye contact with two individuals almost immediately, confirming her suspicions. Defined amongst themselves in particular were their collective likenesses in fair dignity, dressed warmly much like those already in the same line. Still, they had possessed some differences, much like the visitors forced to leave and make their own very way through a checkpoint up in front.
Nevertheless, these particular people abaft the woman were enough to make her recognize them almost instantaneously in spite of everything. For starters, one of them was an adult with hot pink locks underneath some blue earmuffs while the other was a child in a golden woolly cap. Secondment, the other woman was standing up at the same range as Lighthouse out of others whereas the youth was being carried around. Third of all, the pink haired individual had donned a brighter complexion in the shades of lemon chiffon while the child bore tones of coffee. The younger woman’s eyes were opened to bear some teal capable of moving heaven and earth whereas the youth remained closed and teary. The pink haired individual wore a thick purple sweater and some blue sweatpants while the child donned a green puffy jacket and pants combo. The younger woman’s green boots stood upon the ice and snow with solidarity whereas the youth’s black sneakers had remained airborne.
The pink haired individual was still too focused on the child abaft to even see the raven haired observer, focusing in on soothing the waterworks made by the male (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYRIt_mixic):
Hush now, quiet now  
It’s time to lay your sleepy head  
Hush now, quiet now  
It’s time to go to bed
Pleasant dreams up ahead  
Under the covers where you be  
Free to sleep, free to dream  
Free ‘til tomorrow, you’ll see
You can see them even unfurl  
All that potential within yourself  
Make them true just like you  
In your hands, wisdom, wealth and health
You can do it, yes you can  
Unlock it here and there  
Make them true, sweet child  
In such time, they’ll soar through the air
Hush now, quiet now  
Lay your sleepy head  
Hush now, quiet now  
You’ll be safe in bed
“Wow, I never knew that Fluttershy is talented at singing lullabies, let alone childcare: come to think of it, what is she doing with that kid on her back; is that boy her son…?” Lighthouse asked herself as the motherly figure held her young tightly, “no, that can’t be right, I know this girl long enough to be in the same class as her since that fateful day several years ago. She came to court on that day to get a veterinarian's permit and permission for a new animal shelter and look how that turned out; she almost went to jail twice in the same year alone: first when she socked it to Persimmon Tart in the mouth and after the bombing that killed so many soldiers that night. I heard that the new pet cemetery was built nearby the forest on the same remains where her home was: to think that they would even burn it all to the ground with the animals inside no less, all because they were too loyal to her to be given away to someone else and a such a short time no less. Twilight had been talking about trying to get her conviction reversed because of all the confusion regarding the attack and how she found it so suspicious that they found her friend guilty far too speedily; after all, Fluttershy’s nothing like that bastard of a father we had dealt with together, even though I would have liked it better if she had stay the fuck away from us. I may not have any regrets in regards to Persimmon Tart considering what he and his brother had done but aside from her throw back the weight onto him, she did nothing wrong whatsoever to deserve being made out into a monster like them or the others that were found in our own home, especially considering what had been going on in our neck of the woods. I ought to consider myself blessed that I’ve lived this long to see the damned war come to an end already, not just because of the peace and prosperity; even without it coming to our doorstep, we still had some problems on our own turf: unemployment, overpopulation, homelessness, and even crime as well. Ironically, it was a good thing that we were placed under Miss Alder’s care since we started to bond together and see things from another perspective, even if it had meant dealing with two others males whom were no different from that bastard fuck; in fact, I had been able to settle down and consider starting a family with my hubby. I just wish that my parents were alive to see it though, especially my mama: to this day I still miss the churros and the sweetbread she’d make when I was young; but, that was a long time ago, nothing more, nothing less…”
“Excuse me, miss…” another female voice entered the raven haired observer’s ears, this time pointing into her direction with some sternness.
Lighthouse had now found herself facing off against another woman, but she was in a different uniform compared to the many in question. Like the pink haired individual, she too had a much brighter complexion but the skin was more in tune with winter weather already active. Locks of some dark green hair were already tied up in a bun, save for two bangs hanging out and around at the front view on opposite sides. Looking at the raven haired observer were circles of orange peering outwardly through a pair of crimson framed eyeglasses over the arches. Long sleeves of a jacket with matching cap and boots weren’t the only things being worn; a long purple dress was also found clinging about.
Lighthouse had stared at the woman in uniform and gasped, “huh…? Oh, I’m sorry, I have my visitor’s pass with me if you’re looking for one…”
“It’s fine but you must hurry it up; you’re holding up the line…” the white sentry had replied to the startled civilian in turn almost immediately, “besides, we’re going to lock the prison down in fifteen minutes…”
“Understood, there’s my pass; goodbye…” Lighthouse said right after the uniformed woman had searched the former’s jacket to find a green card with a brass chain hanging at the corner upon making a discovery.
It wasn’t long until the civilian was free to withdraw at once, no longer troubled by the icy and dicey atmosphere it’d just produced herself.