Equestria At War - In the Shadow of the Sun

The lobby was bustling - and yet politeness allowed it to be rather quiet. Dozens of griffons were waiting. Young, old - male, female; the Weter Central Hospital was open to all - as health issues did not discriminate. It was Nova Griffonia's largest hospital, with two helicopter landing pads, and a department for every sort of medical problem. The average number of patients easily reached hundreds even on a less busy day.

A young griffon girl exited with her mother, between sobbing and happiness as the shot she had been given was a fairly scary experience to her - but the lollipop she received in exchange had been worth it. She would leave out into the cold streets of Weter holding her mother's talon, passing by a pony who had stepped through the doors.

An old griffon made his way to the reception desk, assisted by a cane. He inquired about his wife - who had been recovering from cancer; and would have run if it was possible with the state of his hip. He limped as fast as he could - to see the love of his life, who had promised to stick around longer with him.

A young teenaged griffon scowled - his broken leg a reminder of his foolishness. But as he would curse softly towards his own mother, he would deep in his heart know that she loved him, as had just barely managed to leave work early to pick him up from school as he called with the broken leg.

A veteran would come for his bi-yearly treatments, his medals softly rattling as he used the crutches to make his way through the hospital. He hadn't responded to the many griffons who thanked him for his service - as the artillery shell from years ago totally removed his hearing. But he would smile softly down at a small young griffon that saluted him.

A pony would take a seat in the lobby - not sure where to sit. He had opted for a corner, where the griffons were adults, neither children nor the elderly.

Happily, a female griffon would nearly burn the rubber on the wheels of her wheelchair, quickly wheeling herself out of the hospital after being bed-ridden for almost half the year, chased by a nervous nurse who tried to warn her not to over-exert herself.

The pony was approached by a smiling, female griffon nurse - holding a clipboard. "Hello sir, are you here for an appointment?"

"..." The pony made panicked eye contact with her...He was only able to muster up the ability to stand up and walk past her. Surprised to see him simply walk away, the nurse took a step back and blinked.

"S-Sir? Sir...!?" She called out. She would watch him leave and was unsure of what to make of the whole scene. "...Huh. What an odd fellow..."

She would look back to notice a saddlebag that was left on the seat. She blinked for a moment, and then turned back to the pony that had already left past the doors. "Oh! Sir? Sir! You forgot--"

A soft click came from the saddlebag.

Death was a force of an unpredictable nature - it could cause great suffering, yet death was in of itself an alleviation of suffering. On that day, many suffered - and many found the end to their suffering.

The explosion had tore apart the entire lobby. Those near the entrance had been blasted away, left with broken bones and burns. Others had been left comatose, and many had their limbs blown off. The floors above had been unfortunate - torn asunder from below as it had caused chain explosions with the gas and heating systems, as well as explosions from volatile chemicals. The windows were blown apart, glass scattering across Weter, like dust - or crystalized tears. The only relatively safe part of the hospital was the children's wing, while perhaps ironically or intentionally, the hospice section had left no survivors.

Investigators came perhaps almost earlier than firefighters. The explosion was obviously a terror attack - and all reports had already indicated to a pony. Intense searches had resulted in arrests of several pony suspects, intense inquiries...All of them ended with a simple phone call. A phone call to those in charge of the investigation to report that on the site of the explosion, there was evidence that the perpetrator was a pony from the Solar Empire.

Though evidence had appeared in the evidence lockers, and though information had been gathered to confirm the involvement of the Solar Empire...None were able to answer the question - who had called them, and who had given them this information.

The one who made the call cleaned their sunglasses - guilt an alien feeling they were no longer sure they felt or not.