It's Just A Shot Away

13:40 - 14/11/1014 - Talcara, Wingbardy

Even with the offensive ongoing, soldiers needed some R&R. Living in dingy camps or trenches while in earshot of constant artillery every hour of every night whilst facing death as a matter of normalcy tended to drain a pony.

Hence why soldiers were often rotated away from active combat zones and into the rear echelon. The Crusaders had been brought to a Wingbardian coastal town called Talcara, some 60km away from the frontline. Imperial forces had faced little resistance in taking the town, sparing it from significant war damage, and at the time they were using it as a node in the logistics network.

In Talcara, one could almost forget they were in a country at war and pretend they were on a pleasant city break. High ceilings and tall, wide balconies, with lots of space for activities on the rooftops, perfect for the average griffon, but all a little big for four flightless ponies. As much as the calendars may have said winter was approaching, it was warmer than most Ponyville summers. Reminders of the war were common, such as Imperial flags fluttering in the wind atop buildings, military vehicles clogging up the main roads, and the common sight of both pony and griffon soldiers patrolling the streets. Most of the civilian population were trying to live their lives as normally as possible, with a muted minority relieved at the imminent demise of Il Duce, with others dreading what Lunar rule may bring.

Apple Bloom stopped in a nearby corner shop to grab some snacks. The only locals she saw inside were the shopkeeper and a teenaged griffon who wouldn’t stop watching her from behind the stalls. What caught Apple Bloom’s interest though, was the familiarity of the goods on sale: Equestrian snacks, Equestrian condiments, Equestrian canned goods, even Equestrian sports drinks. All imports, stickers with the nutritional information in Wingbardian language hastily slapped over the Equestrian nutritional information on the packaging. The war hadn’t done the local industry any good, the whole city was probably reliant on imports. It did mean she could snag a bottle of Sparkle Cola though, even if it came at a considerable markup compared to the cost at home.

She met her three friends for lunch at a little cafe in a quiet part of town. Thankfully the cafe staff spoke decent Equestrian. Setting them up at an outdoor table with plenty of open space, the staff was quite accommodating to the equine guests. The same couldn’t be said for the items on the menu. It was hard to find a single dish without any meat, and even harder to find anything made with apples. Sparkling apple juice was the only thing that came close, so Apple Bloom settled for one of those with a simple pasta salad.

A radio hung over the cafe’s door, crackling as it tried to play music, drowned under by tinny, warbling static. It was a Wingbardian model, mass produced and sold cheaply as part of a pre-war government initiative to disseminate propaganda, as the radios could only tune into state approved frequencies. Yet since this part of the country fell under Lunar occupation, those stations had been seized with those not under their control banned. The DJs had changed, but the purpose was largely the same. Apple Bloom tried to tune it out.

Scootaloo had brought a comic book along and after each bite of her eggplant and tomato toastie, she’d flip the page. Past the chewing, frequent groans, scoffs, and cringes were heard. It caught the attention of her friends.

“This might just be me getting older,” Scootaloo sighed. “But Power Ponies has gotten so much worse.”

“Y’think?” Babs leaned forward, chewing on her sandwich.

“Yeah, I can’t read it without cringing at every other panel anymore.” Scootaloo turned to the previous page and tapped on one of the panels. “Like look at this.”

Sweetie, Babs, and Apple Bloom put their dishes aside and peered at the panel in question. None of the three onlookers could recognise the character, a cyborg griffon with huge hulking muscles bigger than their head, metal wings, and a giant mechanical eye as well as black tactical gear strapped onto every square inch of their near-naked body. They were screaming at an offscreen character, their mouth open so wide that their jaw seemed unhinged. “You fool!” the character’s dialogue read, Babs providing a monotonous voice. “I’ll omegakill you!”

Babs chuckled. “What?”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo spread her wings and forelegs out. “Like, what were they thinking? It’s so stupid!”

“What’s his deal?” asked Sweetie, tapping the overdesigned griffon. “Is he a new character?”

Scootaloo sighed. “That’s Omegakill, he’s-”

“His name is Omegakill?”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo snickered. “He’s meant to be like, his parents were killed by the Archonate when he was a kid, and then they kidnapped him and turned into a cyborg supersoldier.”

“The Archonate?” Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Archonate of Griffenheim?”

“Yeah, them,” Scootaloo confirmed.

Apple Bloom reached her hoof out, sliding the comic book closer to get a better look. There was the panel that Scootaloo drew their attention to, but Apple Bloom found her eyes scanning the earlier panels. They showed one of the Power Ponies (Zapp? Radiance? She wasn’t sure.) bloodied and bruised and backed into a corner by this ‘Omegakill’ character.

The superpony’s dialogue read, “You may kill me now, but you can never kill the Equestrian spirit! I am ready to die a martyr for the great Lunar Empire, if that is what you will do! I am not afraid of dying for my fellow Equestrians! For that is what it means to be a hero!”

What? It was enough to make Apple Bloom physically cringe.

“I know, right?” Scootaloo said.

Apple Bloom looked up from the page. “Have they always been like that?”

Scootaloo sighed. “No, they actually used to try.”

“No, I mean-” Apple Bloom pointed to the panels with all the patriotic mumbo jumbo. “-like that.”

Scootaloo’s mouth hung open. “Uhh…”

A chair scraped across the ground. Sweetie’s chair, scooting closer to the table and catching everyone’s attention. “Since the war started they’ve been leaning heavily into the military stuff,” she interjected. “They put a lot of effort into it, or at least used to. A lot of the new comics are based on true stories,” She looked down at the super cyborg griffon on the page, “Well kinda true, anyways.”

“Whaddya mean, kinda?” Apple Bloom’s ears flicked forwards. While Sweetie wasn’t a comic book nerd by any stretch of the imagination, she tended to know a thing or two about the process. Those stories were often more interesting than the comics themselves.

“First one they did was ‘Tropical Storm’,” Sweetie said. “Power Ponies fighting the Hippogriffs. The writers spoke with ponies who’d actually fought down there and based the narrative on their experiences.”

“Those ones are pretty good,” added Babs, “where they focus on things that actually happen.”

“You think this one might’ve happened?” Scootaloo flipped through the pages a little. “Maybe they got lazy and made Omegakill up.”

Sweetie’s hoof went to her chin. “Hm, might’ve been.”

Apple Bloom could catch glimpses of panels on the page whilst Scootaloo flipped through. Wingbardian soldiers were all over the pages. Faceless. Monotonous. Struck down by the dozen by bold Equestrian soldiers led by colourful superheroes. When they weren’t just fodder for the heroes to beat up, they committed acts of villainy that showed just how little imagination the writer had. Kicking dogs for fun, laughing maniacally at their own evil thoughts, and threatening to blow up the town’s dam, and the like. Come on. This wasn’t based on true events.

Scootaloo flicked the comic shut with a sigh, throwing herself back into her chair. “Man, I was so excited after Tropical Storm! I wanted to read more comics about real heroes and real bad guys! Then it got all… dumb!”

“Some of them are good!” Babs put her hooves on the table. “Did you read Endless Jungle?”

“Yeah, some…” Scootaloo sat up and took a bite out of her toastie. “I liked ‘Hold Hoovesplain’, to be honest.”

“Can’t forget ‘The Terrible Trinity’,” Sweetie added.

A snicker popped out of Scootaloo, along with some food. “That one was fun, but a bit much.” She wiped her grinning muzzle. “Aquileians believe in those gods, too.”

Apple Bloom’s whole body froze, only her eyes blinking. “Whut?”

Shifting in her seat a little, Sweetie cleared her throat. “They did a miniseries a while back., The Power Ponies went up against the Griffonian Trinity of Gods,” she said. “They uh, they cancelled it after the first issue. It kicked up a lot of backlash, even from a lot of ponies in Equestria.”

“Shame, I really liked it,” Babs sighed.

“Oh yeah, and the art in those temple scenes?” Scootaloo smiled, wings fluttering. “The way they drew those fanatics, the way they were all frothing at the beak! Nevermind how insanely detailed that crowd was, like an ocean of fanatics!”

The others chatted away whilst Apple Bloom herself pulled back. Truth be told, Apple Bloom hadn't been into comic books at any point in her life. But if what her friends told her was true, they'd taken the path of every other form of media in the last few years.

Movies, TV, novels, music, everything. Wartime censorship choked creative freedom, the military was forcibly integrated into the entertainment industry, and the mass cultural push of patriotic themes overwhelmed any relatable or personal themes. A newly released TV episode or action movie likely had more Imperial flags shown in it than Scootaloo had feathers on her wings, political interference being the only explanation that made sense.

But, what was the harm in letting the military get involved in entertainment? All that blingy tech and those massive budgets had them pushing the boundaries of filmmaking. Where’s the harm in suggesting your griffon neighbour might be a spy for a foreign enemy? It makes an incredible hook for an espionage thriller. What’s the harm in demonising foreign soldiers and rendering them as thoughtless explosion fodder? Don’t stop to think about that, just look at those effects!

And what’s so harmful about drilling this into the heads of millions of impressionable young ponies, before sending them off to a foreign land to kill? It’s just a story after all, isn’t it?

“Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo waved her hoof in front of Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom blinked, suddenly more aware of her surroundings. “Hm?”

The other three were giving her a look. Scootaloo snickered. “You looked like you zoned out there for a minute, you good?”

“Ah- Nothing.” Apple Bloom shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “Not got much to say. Ah was never into comics like y'all are.” Which was technically true.

The others stared at her for a second, then shrugged themselves. Scootaloo opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by clattering metal against the wooden table. Everypony turned their eyes down to the table. They gasped.

A grenade.

“Get down!” Sweetie screamed.

Apple Bloom threw herself down, and Babs and Scootaloo did so too. Her back struck the stone ground as a muffled bang filled the air. Sweetie screamed. Apple Bloom shot up to her hooves and spun towards Sweetie. Sweetie was still seated and whole, not a scratch on her, but agonised cries were escaping her mouth as her eyes were clenched shut. She frantically grasped her horn and writhed on the spot, nearly falling off her chair as she struggled to prop herself up.

“Sweetie!” Apple Bloom dashed over to help her friend, putting a leg around her to hold her upright. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Sweetie’s eyes snapped open and locked on Apple Bloom. Pupils dilated, scleras practically blood red. Sweetie clenched them shut again. A groan passed through her gritted teeth. “I put a-a shield around it,” Sweetie gasped, tears welling in her eyes. “Taught as p-part of my training, but- nrrg!” She tensed up, Apple Bloom held her closer. “I didn’t think it’d hurt that much,” she cried, putting a hoof to her horn. “Dammit, aagh!”

A quick glance at the table showed the whole surface was undamaged. The grenade was nothing but a small pile of powder and fragments. Even their food was unharmed, but no time for that.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Apple Bloom yelled, looking around the street as an audience of ponies and griffons was slowly assembling. “Uh, ambulanza! Ambulanza!”

“There!”

Scootaloo’s voice cut the air like a guillotine. Both her and Babs were standing, thankfully uninjured. Apple Bloom looked where Scootaloo was pointing, at a griffon across the street. The griffon, light brown feathers and donning a black shirt, had his right claw outstretched as if he’d just thrown something, with the pin and spoon of a grenade at the ground before him. His face was clear in view, soft round babyish cheeks and a tense beak. His eyes darted from crusader to crusader, their breath getting heavier.

“Merda,” the griffon muttered, recoiling his extended claw. He turned and ran.

“Oh no you don’t!” Scootaloo dashed off after the griffon. Babs followed close behind, their hooves pounding against the cobblestone. The griffon attempted to jump skyward, his wings spread wide. Before he could gain altitude, Scootaloo pounced forward and bit into his tail. The griffon flailed his talons and wings in the air. With a heave, Scootaloo brought the griffon crashing down to the ground. He couldn’t attempt to get up before Babs kicked him into the concrete.

“Fuckin’ asshole!” Babs punted the griffon in the face. The griffon squawked, a cough of blood splattering to the ground.

“Trying to kill us, huh?” Scootaloo jumped on the griffon’s back, making him screech. “For what? Taking a night off?!”

Flinching at every punch, Apple Bloom watched from afar, her breath heavy and jaw hanging low.

“Ya don’t fuck with the Crusaders!” Babs kicked the back of the griffon’s head into the road.

“Break his beak!” Scootaloo had his wings pinned down.

As the beating continued, Apple Bloom held Sweetie tight. She had no idea her friends were capable of such savagery. Every good and honest instinct in her body begged for her to call for them to stop. Stop and take a moment to breathe. Stop and calm down. Stop and come help Sweetie. Stop and wait for the authorities to arrive so he could be dealt with properly. Stop before they’d seriously injure him or worse.

Yet the words never left her head.

“Hold it! Stop!”

A stern voice blasted over the street. Trotting up to the scene were a pair of Lunar soldiers, donning white helmets marked with the letters ‘MP’. Breaking off from the beating, Babs and Scootaloo promptly hurried to their hooves and stepped away from the griffon, lying bloody and motionless.

“What in Tartarus is going on here?” one of the soldiers barked.

“Uhh,” Scootaloo stammered. “Him!” She pointed at the griffon. “He threw a freakin’ grenade at us!”

“Yeah, he attacked us!” Babs corroborated. “He was trying to get away, so we stopped him!”

“Hey!” Apple Bloom called as she waved to the officers. “We need an ambulance!”

Babs and Scootaloo turned around, showing Apple Bloom their sweat-drenched, slightly blood-splattered faces. It took them a moment to process what had happened to her. “Sweetie!” They both rushed into gallops.

“Oh no, Sweetie!” Babs skidded to a stop upon reaching the table. “Sweetie, are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Sweetie groaned, her eyes blinking open momentarily before clenching shut again. “It’s just my horn!”

Scootaloo rushed up by Sweetie’s side, her eyes already teary. “I-is that the grenade?” she stammered, pointing to the table.

Sweetie nodded her head, lips pressed tight. “What’s left of it.”

“Sweetie Belle, stars above, you saved our lives!” Scootaloo lurched forward to grab Sweetie in a hug, unknowingly pushing Apple Bloom off.

A smile finally started to grow on Sweetie’s muzzle, tears still streaking down her cheeks as she slowly opened her eyes. “I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I wasn’t looking out for you,” she wheezed through short chuckles.

Apple Bloom forced a smile, but she felt her eyes drifting back to the street. Soldiers were perched over the griffon and onlookers had assembled on the side of the street. The griffon hadn’t moved at all, blood trickling out of his mouth onto the cobblestone.

It wasn’t too long before two ambulances arrived on the scene, a military ambulance and a civilian ambulance. The griffon was loaded onto a stretcher and carried onto the civilian ambulance, while Sweetie walked herself onto the military ambulance with the Crusaders by her side.

After getting Sweetie Belle checked out by the medics, a local doctor told the Crusaders more about the assailant. Named Artiglio Marroni, a local member of the National Fascist Party’s youth wing. Due to the beating, his beak and wings were broken and he had gone blind in one eye. He’d soon be questioned about where he got his grenade and if he had any more information about fascist partisans in the area. Then he’d be tried in a Lunar military court for four separate counts of attempted murder, a crime punishable by death.

“Serves him right!” was Scootaloo’s initial reaction. She proudly spread her wings and held her chin up.

“Too bad we didn’t finish him right then and there!” Babs scoffed in much the same manner as Scootaloo, as a smirk reached across her face.

“One less fascist on the streets, I guess.” Sweetie shrugged. She still couldn’t stop looking up at her horn and wincing.

And yet when Apple Bloom heard all this information, and as she took in the reactions from her friends, she couldn’t share their glee. The medic mentioned another fact in passing. When Apple Bloom heard it, it was all that seemed to matter.

He was just 14.