Hollow Hope

As they trotted out of the diner, Sunny felt a twinge of regret. Maybe he should've kept the facade up for longer, so Petunia could go home without having all of this on her mind.

...or maybe he simply wanted to pretend nothing was wrong. He shook his head. Pretending would lead nowhere.

"Right. I'll keep looking for Torque. You two should find someplace safe to stay."

"Sunny, please. I've handled myself just fine up to now--"

"Ah ah ah! No. I insist. I've done more than enough worrying about you, Petunia. You don't deserve to be risking your life like this."

Petunia frowned. "Sunny, please. We have more to talk about."

"...I know, sweetpea. But I want to talk about it when I'm not worried about zombie attacks." Sunny threw a hoof around Petunia's shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Also, I need you to make Cloudy simmer down. She's saved my keister on more than one occasion, but she's gonna get herself killed if she keeps going."

"Aw, come on!" Cloudy sneers at Sunny, rolling her eyes. "I'm not the one with a busted leg!"

"You also don't have a shotgun."

"...shit, I guess you're right."

"Language, young lady."

"You're not my mom. Technically." Cloudy smirked a little. "But yeah, fine, I'll cut it out."

"Now, so far, our house has been safe." Sunny nodded toward the clock-tower--toward home. "I want the two of you to go home. Be quick about it, I don't know when the bells are gonna ring again."

"Of course. Ready, Cloudy?"

"Ready." Cloudy snapped off a quick little salute to Sunny, and Sunny laughed softly as he returned it. He felt his spirit rise as they walked away.

Petunia's finally safe. Now he can work on fixing this.

"Now, if I were Torque, and I got completely lost...where would I go?"

Sunny mumbled to himself as he trotted down the endless streets.

"...I think I might be completely lost. Damned fog."

In the distance, he heard a cry of pain.

"Huh? Is that Ramooh?" Sunny checked his shotgun--still loaded--and cantered toward the noise, wincing as his bad leg struck the cobblestone.

Through the fog, he made out three forms--a pony, a bull, and a hooded, cloaked figure. The cloaked being took a swing--Sunny recognized the polearm, for he had seen it dozens of times in old books of farming techniques: it was a scythe.

The blade of the scythe clanged against Ramooh's horns, and he roared, tossing his head and knocking it away. "You will not take me today!" he howled, as he charged forward--but the cloak whirled, and the apparition vanished! As the cloak spun away, the scythe arced down, tearing a bright red line along Ramooh's side and cutting away the very ends of his tail tuft.

Behind them, Sunny saw Torque, caught between running for it and leaping into the fray. She caught Sunny's eyes, and yelled out to him. "Sunny! Run for it! This thing's unkillable!"

But Sunny ignored her protests. He didn't want to hear it. He was tired of running--running from monsters, running from family, running from lies. He felt--all at once--a bizarre clarity, a terrible dread, and an incredible sense of peace. He realized, in that moment, that there would be no difference between running and fighting; for no matter what he did, death would come to him, just as it would for all of them...

...so why bother running from it?

"Sunny, what're you doing!? Get outta here!"

"No more." Sunny grunted as he lined up the barrel with his target. "I'm not running today. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die doing my sun-damned job."

"Sunny? Moon damn it all, Mayor, y' can't--"

B L A M

Torque's screaming was cut short by the sound of buckshot against bone. The cloak whirled away, leaving only a skeleton--a shadow of a pony, wielding a rusted farming tool. Sunny pumped the shotgun, staring down Death itself. He was acutely aware of what that scythe would do to him, if the skeleton were to gain the upper hand, and yet--

B L A M

He walked forward, in serene fury, as the second load of buckshot took a couple of ribs off of the skeleton. It screeched, whirling its blade and stamping its hooves. Sunny, unshaken, pumped the shotgun once more and took aim.

B L A M

This shot caved in the skeleton's skull, and it howled like a wild beast. It charged at him full-tilt, blade twirling behind it...

...only to crumble to dust as it met him, nothing more than a foul wind.

Sunny did not feel triumph; he knew that he had simply delayed the inevitable. But he felt...content. Good. He had bought time for his friends, and that was the best possible outcome. Maybe it wasn't triumph, but it was good.

"...holy shit, Sunny." Torque trotted to a stop next to him as he brushed the dust off of his face. "Where did that come from?"

"...well, I--I don't know how to--"

"He was enlightened," Ramooh said, standing up. He groaned softly. "He learned the lesson that--hah--that I never did understand..."

As Ramooh walked, he stumbled. Torque and Sunny caught him, barely. "You really hurt yourself, didn't you? We need to find shelter," Sunny said. "I sent Cloudy and Petunia back to my place, it should be safe--"

"No!" Ramooh shouted, nearly falling over again. "Sunny, the Rakshasa--it hides in the place where the nightmare began! It hides where your darkest fears and desires lay dormant!"

"But that would mean--" Sunny gasped, and dug through his saddlebags. In moments, he had the key to his master bedroom in his hoof.

"Oh, no."

"We'll hole up in the motel," Torque said. "You get back home. Save her."

"Wait--you will need this," Ramooh stammered, wincing, as he reached back onto his saddle--and held out a curious little pyramid-shaped piece of stone. Its surface was lined with runes. "It is a powerful tool, passed down through generations. The demon within is called Flauros. Call upon it when you are ready."