Artyom awakened with no sense in his extremities, realizing after a look around that he was not in his home, or even the tunnels he was familiar with.

His search for clues was stopped dead in its tracks by a group of monstrosities, vaguely relatable to a sort of carnivore, but so twisted and deformed he couldn’t figure out what they were before. Fangs jutted from their ravenous mouths, long and sharp enough to pierce through bone. Razor sharp claws juted from their legs. They slowly crossed the distance towards Artyom, clacking their nails on the floor. He tried to run, but fear paralyzed every muscle in his body.

He was helpless as they descended upon him, tearing his flesh from the bone. All he could manage was a chilling scream as they severed his neck skin open.

____________________________________________________________________________

Artyom woke up with a start. "Damn Nosalises," he grunted as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was the third time that night; peaceful sleep was sure not come to him.

Having realized that, he turned to look at his wall, and the pictures of the world hanging on it, ranging from New York to London, from Moscow to France. He wished he could see them in their glory. The novels he had been reading the night before lay on his desk, among them To Kill A Mockingbird and 1984. Seeing no point in re-reading them so soon, he set them back to the shelf.

He checked his watch. It read a little past 5 AM. It was a little early, but he decided to start his day nonetheless. If by some miracle he managed to sleep again, he would sleep in for sure.

Soon after he finished getting dressed, he heard his name from the door. Peering inside his room was Kirill, one of his station's guards. "Artyom? You’re up, that’s good. Your father wants you to meet him at the airlock for Hunter's arrival.”

As they moved through Exhibition’s hallways, Kirill kept droning on and on about how Hunter spent three weeks outside without freezing, then about the Rangers and their fortitude. ‘Kirill really needs to learn when to shut up,’ Artyom thought.

____________________________________________________________________________

Another day was beginning in Ponyville, the sun just starting its ascent to chase away the night sky. Everypony was sound asleep, except for the town’s librarian – a coronation and a new pair of wings changed neither the character of the wielder of the Element of Magic, nor her occupation or, perhaps most importantly, her questionable studying habits.

As usual, Twilight Sparkle had spent the entire night studying nonstop, save for a few dozen coffee cups and the time needed to rinse the dry remains of the beverage off the bottom of the mug between servings. This time, the object of her attention was linguistics, griffin linguistics to be precise.

*This was easier than I thought!* she said out loud, and instantly she put her hooves over her mouth after she noticed she’d spoken in textbook Avian. ‘How long did I spend reading that?’ She peered out the window to see the sun had broken the horizon, giving her the answer. ‘Uh-oh, a bit too long, I’m afraid.’

"Ughh... Morning, Twi." She turned to see a small dragon getting up from his basket, rubbing his eyes clean. "Were you up all night?"

"Yeah, I found a couple of books on the ancient griffin language!” she announced happily, flapping the slight kinks off her wings. *It was a night well spent,* she added with a smug smile.

Spike blinked, considering how Twilight had learned an entire language in under a day. He decided it was better not question it unless he wished for a headache. "Oookay then... Well, I'm going to get breakfast started."

The tiny dragon walked into the kitchen, leaving the new alicorn to her mess. It didn't take long for Twilight to reorganize the library's main room to the way it usually looked, and just as she finished, the smell of pancakes filled her nostrils, the succulent smell lulling her towards the kitchen. She realized that, during her all night study session, she had not eaten anything, something her stomach reminded her of with a roar exactly as Spike set the stack down in front of her. "Here we go, a morning meal worthy of a princess!” He winked. “Bon appetit, Twi!"

It didn't take long for them both to finish off every morsel of fluffy delight, and with both their hungers sated to the point where they had a small case of bloated belly, they prepared to start their day.

That is, until a letter was received via dragon fire. Twilight was quick to nab the parchment from the air and unfurl it.

"What does it say, Twilight?" Spike asked, trying to climb behind her head to read.

Twilight stared at the paper in silence for a while. "… It says that ‘the Princesses request my presence for advice on a confidential matter’."

’What could they need advice from me for?’

________________________________________________________________________________

"Artyom! Stand back. We don't know what else will be behind that door."

My stepfather was the unofficial leader of our station, a strong man who was there when the nukes fell upon the capital. My parents died after leaving me in his care; whether they met their end to radiation, heat or shock wave was unknown, just like so many others who didn’t make it to the metro in time.

"You two, opposite sides of the door. Open it on my mark."

The look from the guards' faces told that they feared what may lie behind the hatch.

"Kirill… Open the hatch."

The sound of machinery flooded the room as the airlock slowly spread apart. The light engulfed the room, and a single figure stood in front of it. He was clad in ballistic armor and combat equipment, but the real highlights of his display were the night vision goggles, the serrated knife on his belt, and the rifle on his back. This man wan not just a soldier, he was a legend of the metro, a one man apocalypse.

"Alex, Artyom! So nice to see you." Hunter gave a nod in our direction. "You there. Guard. You can stop looking around, I was not followed. Now do us a favor and close this door. I’ve been on the cold for a little too long to enjoy it."

Kirill shrugged and began to close the airlock. Hunter took a seat next to us around the fire. "Hey, Artyom, I got you something.” He pulled out a postcard portraying that New York statue. “A souvenir vendor in Tulskaya had it. I thought of your wall.”

I looked it over for a fair amount of time before giving him a smile in return as I took the card. He nodded and turned back to Father. "So, Alex, is all going well with Exhibition?"

Before he could answer, a noise echoed from the ventilation ducts above. It was a horrid and primal thing; hearing it sent a shiver down my spine. Suddenly, there was a revolver and a bullet pack in my hand. "Artyom!” Hunter bellowed as the station's alarms sounded. “Stay behind us and keep sharp."

A grating on the left wall fell to the floor, revealing what I had feared. ’Nosalises.’

Author's Note

So yeah rewrites are coming up now... If you have any grievances towards Twilicorn just PM me.