Shatter

Shatter

By: Lapsa

Submission for the ‘Fourth Equestria at War Write Off’

“Have you heard?” The hushed whispers of a conversation droned behind Wyman as he took another long drink, mind barely processing the chatter around him as his aching body sank even more against the cool soothing counter of the bar. “They are close to settling on a regent…things might return to normal soon in the capitol.”

“I hope, w—” A loud few screams rang out from the outside followed by a few barely muffled thunderous bangs, the hum of the early evening brought to a halt as all attention instead turned to the window – griffons soon running past the pub; some injured as their distraught fearful expressions produced a few murmured gasps from the patrons.

“W-what in the name of Boreas is going on out there?!” The quiet moment of silence in the bar didn’t last long as the patrons were soon thrown into a frenzy – more flocking to the windows as tables and chairs were knocked or tossed haphazardly out of the way to make more room; the equally frantic staff trying their best to keep order as they abandoned the bar.

The commotion and change of mood in the atmosphere would only just barely be enough to pry Wyman away from his spot, his sluggish mind trying to process everything as he stumbled down to the ground below. Only the faintest hint of concern would push through his half-drunken state has he made his way over to the window with the rest of the crowd, managing straighten himself out enough to peer over their heads and shoulders just in time for another few griffs to rush past followed by more loud thunderous bangs as pieces of brick splintered across the buildings on the far end of the street.

“I-it can’t be…” A silence would follow before a voice – loud but muffled – started to ring out through the streets outside, the words too garbled to be made out clearly as the patrons in the pub slowly started to speak among themselves once more.

“What is going on out there!?”

“Stop! Are you mad? You can’t just g—w-wait!”

Wyman’s gaze turned to the door as the gentle chime of the bell drew him away from the slowly rising whispers. A few of the patrons cautiously made their way out onto the street, some immediately darting back in as their faces went pale while others continued onto the road with a nervous morbid curiosity – all gazes fixed further down as Wyman himself felt some tug start to move him forward towards the door.

“What the hell is going on…” Another patron murmured as Wyman pushed past, finally making his way out onto the street as the cool air send a chill through his body. With a few more steps he’d finally be able to see a crowd further down the street – a large group of griffons trying to stand steady before a tank and soldiers that seemed themselves to be struggling to keep composure as the walls of the pub no longer muffled the discontented yells and chants of the gathering before them.

“Attention! Attention! We ask that you remain orderly and follow our instructions!” Wyman tried to remain mostly out of sight as he cautiously moved further down the street, only stopping when a soldier atop the tank started to speak – orders barked out through a megaphone. “Everything is under control! Return to your homes!”

“Please, remain calm and do not make further attempts to obstr—” The soldier’s frantic pleas were interrupted as a rock struck against his megaphone, the sound reverberating through the crowd as the soldier’s now unheard voice barked orders at the armed men to either side of him – gunshots soon ringing out into the crows as more loud screams followed.

Wyman would turn tail and race back down the street as soon as he heard the first bullet fly, the griffon not taking the risk of flight as screams echoed from down the street. Quickly he’d duck into one of the alleyways, mind racing as he darted and waved through as many of the back-streets and small corridors as his muscled frame could fit into on the way to his home. All around him it would seem the city was started to erupt into chaos, like he was outrunning it as more gunshots, more screams, running griffons, even bodies started to spring up around him in his path as he got closer and closer to his destination.

When he finally reached his home he wouldn’t bother to slow down, nearly bringing the already shabby door down as he rammed into it – claws trembling as he fumbled with the lock. He could still hear screams, still hear gunshots and soldiers yelling in the distance. He wouldn’t dare turn his head to the street around him though, wouldn’t dare take his eyes off the lock as the door finally swung open – the worried faces of his family meeting his own as they sat huddled in the middle of the small darkened room.

“Are you both alright!?”

“I—W-Wyman…” A pale feathered griffon spoke as she clutched a young chick closer against her, emerald eyes watery as her feathers dampened with tears.

“What is the matter, Willa?” Wyman finally took a moment to try to catch his breath as his voice lowered, the door behind him hastily shut before he wrapped his forearms around the two. “The soldiers haven’t hurt you have they?”

“N-no…b-but…” Willa struggled to get the words out as she let her body sink against her husband. “Its my father, Arnulf – one of his friends stopped by to tell me they’ve taken him.”

***

A week of uncertainty would follow as the family tried their best to attempt to adjust to the new regime. Every day Willa would try to hold onto her waning hope to see her father, the few neighbors that hadn’t vanished or ran becoming more and more scarce as the streets were soon left empty sans the quick to anger soldiers that would ramble on about maintaining ‘Order’ amid the curfews and collapsing economy. Even Wyman’s own job would suffer; masonry struggling as clients canceled and construction – alongside the wider economy - came to a slow, painful halt.

***