My Little Sniper: The Beginning

I had the saddlebag under my head and was lying on my back, comfortably nestled between the huge roots of a tall old oak, contemplating the sky veiled grey. Next to me lay the only friend I had in this dark world. My Dr-8 Dragon or, as I called it, Little Dragon. A sniper rifle with a three-bladed side trigger helix, a hoof-holder ring under the barrel, a buttstock replaced with a supportive bow, and a strap to hang it around the neck. 7mm, three rounds per magazine. Lightweight but short-barreled, Dr-8 was designed for urban combat, hitting eight hundred metres, though that was negligible for such a weapon in our good old Equestria. Plus, it had a crossed sniper sight and was complemented with an aiming spell that allowed you to take down enemies without much trouble. She is a good thing, really; she saved my life more than once…

Who am I? An ordinary zebra with an unusual name. Yes, a very unusual name. For my name is… Twilight Sparkle. Yes yes, Twilight Sparkle. Twilight Sparkle Black, to be exact. I was named after the last ruler of this shitty country formerly known as Equestria. But it hasn’t been called that for about three hundred years. Ever since Princess Celestia and Prince Ironwield’s son Maxwell came to power.

I didn’t know much about that time. After his parents died and Luna perished, he went completely mad, killing Twilight and becoming the sole ruler. Then the whole Equestria was dumped in a sea of crimes and corruption — not for long though, because soon the people of Equestria started a rebellion against the tyrant. A war to end everything. With megaspells and bullets and fire. And Equestria was just gone. But how much truth did these legends hold? I didn’t know that. Frankly, I didn’t want to know.

I looked up at the sky again. The clouds covered the golden disk of the sun, that lovely and beautiful sun, but its rays still managed to break through the grey veil. Who moved it now when the princesses were dead? This question had once given rise to much controversy. After the war, some hotheads said the sun actually moved by itself and the princesses only took the credit of controlling the celestial bodies… But as it soon turned out, sometimes the sun just stopped in place as if giving a chance to late-comers to get to a safe place, while at night the moon accelerated its course, seeking to quickly give way to the daylight, salvation for those who in the face of oncoming darkness could only press their guns to themselves and pray — pray to survive the night. Yes, and me too; I was sure the princesses were still alive. In a place high above these clouds, or maybe right behind them, where no pegasus or gryphon or anyone else could fly. They must have been watching us, but they could do nothing but give us hope. Hope for everything to be alright in the end…

I got up from the ground. The first thing I did after was to hang the rifle around my neck and pull it to one side a little so that the barrel was facing the front of me. This way it would be easier to get a hold on it. I threw a saddlebag over my rump, blocking my cutie mark from view. My flanks boasted three six-pointed purple stars located in a way that if they were connected by lines, it would show an isosceles triangle and a red sniper sight in the very middle of it. I never understood its meaning. Well, the sight is clear, but what about the stars? And what did they mean? That I’d shoot my best on a starry night? Hahaha, how funny.

I lifted a hoof, pushed back my mane of a dark blue colour so unusual for zebras, glanced at the sky again, and trotted quickly through the emerald-green grass up north. A light breeze was stirring the leaves in the trees, rustling the weed below and running so pleasantly over my fur. I closed my eyes, imagining that I was walking on the edge of the Everfree Forest in a time before the war or what came after it. How wonderful it would be to just be there, in this world of goodness and light… But there was no way to relax in our world, and I opened my eyes with an involuntary sigh.

The weed was coming to an end. Err, a weird choice of words, but it was a truthful description of reality; there was neither grass nor weeds in front of me anymore, just bare black earth. Oh, I didn’t like open places! And not just because those scars on the land served as a reminder of what awaited you if you’re not strong enough and let others break you.

Burnt tree trunks stood as a dead-silent testament to the past here and there on the blackened wasteland. But who was to guess? Death might as well have destroyed the place rather not long ago.

With another sigh, I stepped onto the dead ground. Something crunched under my hooves, but I knew it was just a branch. I took a deep breath of still a bit clean air and broke into a gallop, sending up black clouds of noxious dust. My nose tingled, and I sneezed as I ran, but I didn’t slow down until I could see a sparse patch of bush ahead of me, and beyond it a wall of forest.

Dashing out of the patch, I first carefully wiped my hooves on the grass, and only then I examined my whereabouts, choosing the direction to move next. There was still a little time before sunset, but I still had to prepare some surprises for the night guests. Of course if there would be anything to protect. And if not… It’s better not to think about it.

I dropped my bag to the ground and opened it, using my teeth to pull out a scroll tied with a hairband. Removing the elastic band, I straightened it and tried to determine my location. The map, old and corrected countless times, hadn’t helped me much before, but now I was almost sure that I was on the right track. Probability… Seventy to seventy-five per cent, I guess.

I rolled the map up again and put the elastic band on it, then put the scroll back in my bag, closed it, and slung it over my back. The rifle swung its barrel in time with my steps as if nodding at me and saying, “Never mind, Twilight, it’s been worse. We’ll make it through!” I wanted to believe her.

I skipped on rocks and hummocks, leapt over lopsided stumps and fallen tree trunks, and skittered deftly between copses of thorny bushes until I crossed the narrow forest line and found myself in the place I’d expected. The remarkably well-preserved plaque "Welcome to Greypony!" served as clear evidence to my guess. A witty prankster left his sign under it, “Here you gonna stay.”

Yeah, that sounds hopeful. But I had no choice.

I pressed my belly to the ground as I crawled forward, trying to make as little noise as I could and mentally regretting the only drawback Little Dragon had: the inability to shoot in motion. I cradled a slight hope that I might not need to use it any time soon. Get it together, you cowardly mare! Crawl on!

Greypony was a small village. A pitiful score of houses that time hadn’t spared. Broken windows and doors, many having holes in the roof or walls. I watched attentively at the grassy road ahead. Not a single sign of anypony ever passing through here. Hopefully it’s empty for real.

One of the houses got my attention in particular. It had been a neat two-storey building of pink colour, but the faded paint was still visible. It looked pretty intact except for a couple of broken windows. Maybe I’m lucky?

I got up on my hind legs and quickly reached the house in short runs from one crooked fence — rather just a set of rotten sticks — to the other, holding my rifle with my left forehoof. With my right forehoof, I pushed open the door and it creaked open in front of me.

I stepped over the threshold into a short corridor. I looked around and listened. It seemed empty… To the left of the corridor was a door that opened into a large room, probably the living room. I decided to check the side passages first.

A bump with the rifle’s supportive bow let me see what was behind the door. Kitchen. Nothing interesting or dangerous. Oh well.

The living room turned to be a circular space with a sofa in the centre and bookcases on the left and right. There were two more doors, one leading to the bathroom, the other to the storage room. Either revealed no sign of hostile inhabitants, only a set of stairs to climb up.

The steps creaked under my hooves. At the top, I found another corridor and three doors that seemed to lead to other rooms. When I got to the first one, I hit it with the supportive bow and immediately bounced back.

I guessed right. It was just an ordinary room. A neatly made double bed, a chest of drawers, a photograph in a wooden frame upon its top, a bookcase, a chair… I went to the photo frame and used my hoof to wipe the dust off the glass. A young earth pony mare and an equally young pegasus stallion stood with their forelegs around each other, faces turned toward the viewer. Hopefully, they got out of here in time… I stated at the symbols cut into the bottom of the frame. “Love each other forever.” That’s good.

I exited the room, closing the door softly behind me, and moved to the second. It was pretty hard to open: the hinges were rusted to the core, but a couple of good kicks did the trick.

A foal’s room. A small bed, faded drawings of ponies hanging on the walls, a glass cabinet in the corner containing toy-like pegasi in uniform, unicorns clad in robes, a dragon with a sword… There were even changelings, three or four of them, wielding spears. So it must’ve been a colt who lived in here. A pegasi-drawn chariot lay overthrown on the floor, as well as… Twilight Sparkle.

It was a pretty, well-made figurine. I laid the rifle on the bed and walked over and picked it up with my hoof. The smile had worn from the alicorn’s face, but all the rest was almost untouched by time. I didn’t know why, but I put it in my bag.

The third door didn’t arouse any suspicions from me. I closed in, hit it open and…

“Buck you!” I shrieked as I jumped out of the way.

A little grey mouse scuttled out into the hall, squeaking, terrified even more than I was.

“You scared the hell out of me, you little devil,” I muttered in a coarse voice.

The room turned out another foal’s room. That one belonged to a filly judging by the huge plushie of Rainbow Dash sitting on the bed and the sheer number of pony dolls arranged neatly inside a glass cabinet. Had this family got crazy about buying cabinets of the same type and forcing the whole household to use them?

I came downstairs and went to the front door first. Fortunately, it had an iron bolt, sturdy and still intact. Perhaps some spell was cast on it before they left? I bolted the door and trotted into the kitchen. The window glass in here miraculously survived, and I just closed it. I thought that’s enough for security. Then I went out into the corridor and closed the kitchen door.

The windows in the living room were broken, but it took only half an hour of skilled application of a hammer, nails, and planks found throughout the house to feel comparatively safe. When I was done with all these important things and got upstairs again, I decided on the filly’s room and finally called it a day.

The first thing I did before sleep was to dump on the floor my small fortune. The already mentioned map, a powerful flashlight, four thick candles, a plate-stand for a candle, a can opener, five boxes of ammunition by twenty pieces each, four spare magazines, a wooden bowl, a metal fork, bags of dried weed — no, no no no, don’t think of it like that! Just dried herbs! Then, jars with some useful stuff, two flasks of water, canned food, bandages, and some other trinkets.

I glanced at my watch. It was just the right time, and the sun was still an hour away. I closed the room’s round window and drew the dark pink curtains tight. Using a small lighter with a side-button incendiary (I don’t know what it’s actually called!), I lit one of the candles and put it on the stand. I opened one of the ammo boxes and unscrewed a jar, which revealed a bright golden liquid. I took a napkin out of my napkin ball, spread it out on the floor, took the special tongs I’d bought in one of the northern cities between my teeth, and set to work. After I took the round out of the box, I first dipped it into the liquid, held it there for about half a minute, then put it on the napkin and thoroughly wiped it off. Thanks to constant training, I was quite adept at it. I then inserted the round glittering with a golden light into a magazine, and I did so until I filled all four. After closing the box and jar, I returned them to my bag along with the magazines, so I could move on to another but no less important task.

Taking the can opener in my hoof, I unlidded one of my cans and dumped into the bowl a terrible-looking and -smelling mixture of vegetables, into which I added the contents of another can. Eat till fit, as they say. Overcoming my revulsion, I put fork after fork in my mouth, sometimes putting the bowl away and washing down the whole mess along my throat with water which had already started to taste putrid.

After I had eaten and put most of my things in my bag, leaving only a candle, the flashlight, and a spare magazine for my rifle, I crawled into bed, Little Dragon beside giving me a feeling of safety. Putting hoof to hoof, I closed my eyes and began to read the prayer.

“Dear princesses, if you still live somewhere in heaven, thank you for giving me shelter, food, and quiet sleep today. Do a little more for me: help me survive this night. So be it.”

I wrapped my hooves around the rifle, rested my head on the pillow, and closed my eyes.