A Hero's 'Tail'

by Garamond

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 15001

Follow the escapades of an escaped lab-colt as he learns of life while trying to save Equestria.

Brutus is, well, WAS, a normal colt living in a small hamlet on the fringe of the Northlands. One day, he wakes up in a mysterious room with whitewashed walls and one window. Can he escape, and should he, how will he deal with the demons chasing him down, constantly wanting him back?

Published 2012-01-10 07:56:34 UTC
Last updated 2012-01-10 07:56:34 UTC

Prologue

“Oh mommy! Can I go out to play with Rocky and my other pals?” young Brutus, a cute brown young earth pony colt, asked.

“Of course darling,” his mother said, ruffling his mane. “Just be back by dark.”

“I know Mom! I know! How many times have you told me?” Brutus quipped crossly.

“Not enough after last Thursday’s incident.” Mom replied. “Go have fun.”

Brutus grinned, recalling THAT little mishap. He always was a little mischievous, but single-handedly flooding a field? Oh, that just made him proud. The young colt nudged the door open, trotting to his friends.

Brutus cantered through a lush, green meadow with his buddies Rocky and Rudolph, oblivious to the danger surrounding them.
Off in the distance a unicorn in a lab coat was spying on the three young colts with a pair of binoculars, perched on the ridge of a hill. The unicorn made a motion to a nearby Griffon aide, and soon a cadre of the beasts had stealthily surrounded the colts.
The horned pony said to her aide in a nervous but excited voice, “Relay the command to kill the two youngest ones. I want the brown speckled one alive. He’ll make an excellent guinea pig, don’t you think, Beaker?”
The Griffon, Beaker, nodded silently, ruffling his feathers in a strange pattern. The other birds in the distance nodded, indicating that they understood the silent order, and began creeping through the brushes surrounding the clearing.
The unicorn brought a clipboard out from one of her saddlebags and began feverishly taking notes as her minions descended on the poor colts.
With hardly a rustle, the Griffons leapt from the trees, assualting the foals. Rudolph had been pounced on, neck snapped in twain, bleeding out onto the lemongrass. Brutus and Rocky were now back-to-back, bucking as if their lives depended on it. For all THEY knew, their lives DID depend on it. Rocky managed to incapacitate a griffon before he too, was slain by the heartless birds. A large net descended over Brutus, and he neighed loudly in dismay and confusion as the griffons cudgeled him unconscious. The unicorn, notes forgotten, was jumping with delight.
“Oh what a wonderful spectacle! I’ve never seen colts fight that hard in all my years of working in R&D! It’ll be a positive joy to do tests on this one. He’s special, I can just tell.” she said, laying a hoof on Brutus’ head just below his dilated, adrenaline pumped eye, and gently stroking it down to his cheek. “Now, we don’t want any reports reaching her. Burn the town. Slaughter everyone.”
The griffons saluted and took to the sky towards the distant hamlet. Dusk was beginning to fall. The unicorn hoisted her catch with a levitation spell, and began heading back to the hell from which she came. As she strolled back to her armored car a large pillar of smoke rose over the hills, darkening the setting sun.

Chapter 2

“Oooooh… My head. W-where am I?” I asked, scanning the area.

I was strapped to a table most uncomfortably. The room had the clean, clinical feel of a hospital, with whitewashed walls, IV’s, vials, and needles.

“You are in the Research and Development department of the New Lunar Republic’s military headquarters.” A voice said over a speaker hanging from a corner of the room. “You are going to be used in testing, foal. You are not to resist.”

At which point I began trying to squirm free.

“And you are to comply with EVERY order I see fit to give. Understand?” the Voice asked.

I shouted with all my might at the intercom, “NEVER!”

A shock of electricity surged through my body. I jittered and jumped in place. The pain was agonizing. Slowly, the shock faded leaving me on the metal table, breathing hard.

“Now, you are to comply with every order I see fit to give. Understand?”

… “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, just relax. An attendant will come and administer the first dosages to you shortly…”

I’ve been in this place a week. The same griffon has been coming in every day, inoculating me with drugs after feeding me breakfast from my new 3 by 3 cell.
But today was different. I was muzzled, haltered, and led into a large gymnasium somewhere in this hellhole.
The room was very large, triple the size and height of 3 hoofball stadiums. Everything was metallic, and gray, with the dull texture reminiscent of heat-treated stainless steel plating. There were large red and white targets hovering all throughout the room at impossible lengths from the floor. The targets glowed a faint yellow, as if from some magical aura.
That voice, which I’d figured was coming from a female, rumbled from the slanted ceilings.

“Good, good. We’ll be doing a field test of your current… modifications. My attendant will come down and outfit you with a pair of artificial wings. Watch him closely, for you will need to do this yourself after today.” Ordered the Voice.

The griffon leading me walked through a large door with metal plates on it, presumably to prevent escape attempts. The griffon left the room, and returned a minute later carrying a pair of wings and a large soda. I was confused.

I asked him, “What’s with the soda?”

He just grinned a griffon’s grin and said, “You’ll see, young one.”

He then proceeded to pop the caps off two shiny metal holes in my back that’d I’d never noticed I had, and fitted the wings into the sockets.

“Try swiveling them.” He suggested, pulling back to watch me with his one eye.

I hesitantly willed the wings to move, and to my surprise and astonishment, they did! I made several circular motions with these strange, bronze-esque contraptions, then willed them to beat like a hummingbirds. They promptly complied, lifting me a few feet in the air.

I gently landed myself as the Voice began speaking, “Now, child. Drink that bottle of soda as fast as you can.”

Not reluctant to turn down a can of pop, I flipped it with agility and guzzled the syrupy goodness, letting it burn my throat with its carbonation. Soon, I felt heat in my stomach, and with an almighty belch, summoned forth a blue-white fireball about a meter in diameter. I sprang back in shock.

The Voice chuckled, “Yes. You can breathe fire, fireballs, to be exact. Now, I want you to fly around and take out all these targets as fast as you can. 3…”

I kneeled down into a ready position, wings fluttering…

“2… 1… Begin.”

I took off like a bullet towards my first target, belching flame all the way. My first two shots went wide, but the third landed dead center, and the target shattered into a million pieces. I zoomed right through the wreckage, claiming target after target with my flames. When I had finished, I was ordered to land, and then led back to my cell.

The griffon got lost while guiding me back, so we didn’t make it till what I assume was nightfall. My wings had been locked up tight, and I’d run out of spare air for flame belching, though I could smoke at the mouth on command.

I yawned, and said to myself, “Time for some sleep.”

As I lay down on the palette, however, slumber eluded me. My mind wandered back to my friends. Rudolph had been killed.

I blamed myself, thinking, we weren’t allowed in that pasture anyways. Rudy didn’t wanna go either.

I sulked at my horrid decision till I passed out in misery.

During flame practice today I got up the nerve to ask the Voice how long it’s been since my initial imprisonment. She just said that it was none of my business, but that I’d be going somewhere else after this. At the conclusion of flame training I was brought into a new room filled with obstacles. It was the same dreary gray color as the flame gymnasium with the same material as the wall.

“We have added a new modification. Go ahead and try it out. Jump these hurdles as fast as you can, and reach the goal. Analyze the track before you begin,” instructed the Voice.

I took a look around. The track seemed pretty straightforward until I peered past the yellow and black hurdles.

“Why is there a bottomless pit?” I inquired, straining my neck to get a better look.

“Oh, I don’t know. An obstacle maybe?” the Voice asked sarcastically.

“Furthermore,” I queried, “how am I supposed to get up to the goal? It’s nearly a story up, and I don’t have wings right now.”

I felt another shock of electricity pulse through me. I knelt to the ground, groaning in pain.

“Figure it out, you imbecile! Now get going!” the Voice said angrily as the pain began to subside.

Alright then, I thought to myself.

I stood, and then sprinted off towards the hurdles. I suddenly felt lighter than air as I leaped over the first hurtle. I then released pressure on the floor and slid under the second hurtle, springing up without losing momentum on the slippery floor. I dashed headlong toward the wall. Without breaking stride I began pushing against the wall both downward and sideward with all my might. A gleeful laugh erupted from my throat. I was wall running! I leaped up, attempting to spread wings that I currently did not have, and cleared the goal. I skidded to a halt at the edge of the hovering platform, puffing my chest out with pride.

“Impressive job,” coldly complimented the Voice. “Expect to complete these courses every day in addition to your flame training.”

I bounded back down to the floor and was muzzled once again.

Tonight in my concrete cube of a cell, I noticed something strange. There was a saucer with a single cookie on it, lying on the metallic plate that passed for my bed. I shed a single tear because the cookie gave me hope. My mind raged in a storm of emotions as I settled down for the night. Part of me thought I was capable of freeing myself, but another, nagging doubt gnawed away at that determination. This night promised to be as miserable as the previous several.

The next (what I assume to be) month or so passed uneventfully.

One day, as I completed the obstacle course, The Voice announced nonchalantly, “We have a new exercise for you to complete today.”

“Alrighty, bring it on!” I replied, walking off the goal platform as it lowered to let me off.

“Don’t get cocky, twerp,” the Voice retorted, shocking me yet again.

Chastened, I was harnessed and muzzled, then led by the griffon into a strangely familiar room. The place was overly clean and clinical, and there was a table with metal straps on it.

Where have I seen this place before?I wondered, moving into a corner to await instructions.

“Go ahead and sit on the table. An attendant will come in to help you,” the Voice proclaimed coldly.

I went ahead and plopped down on the cold metallic surface, remembering the shocks the Voice could administer at command. Three large griffons entered the room and grabbed me roughly by the forelegs, strapping me down. I began bucking wildly in a panic, spitting flame and curses alternatively. A long, hard shock ‘calmed’ me.
I remember this place. This is the place where they first took me after they caught me! I thought, wanting to resume bucking even more.

“In preparation for what we would have you do, you will undergo pain resistance training. You will be tortured every day… Just… Like… This,” the Voice quipped.

Every pause brought a flash of pain.

When I got back to my cell that night, I found an empty bottle with a message inside of it. After some finagling I managed to extricate the letter from the soda tumbler. In an untidy scrawl was written on the scrap of paper:

Brutus,
Every day I will send you a bottle of pop as a treat for enduring the tortures the Mistress inflicts upon you. (So the Voice IS a girl! I remarked under my breath) I assume you will want to save your soda instead of drinking it, in. For a special occasion, you see. To allow you to save your bottles I have made you a little hidey-hole for your soda.

I gasped, an idea forming in my head. Recently, a pair of black, leathery wings (supposedly a byproduct of my ‘modifications’) had begun to erupt from my back. Those wings plus the soda could get me a way out of here! I slept better that evening than I had in a long time.

Chapter 3

Over the next few days my wings finished unfurling, and the artificial ones were discontinued for service in my flame training. Today would be the day I attempted my escape; I just knew it!

I had guzzled down as much soda as possible before training, and my stomach began to rumble in protest at all the air stored inside it.

Soon, I thought, Soon we can get out of here.

The Voice began counting off, and I spied a weak spot in the drab, gray, wall.

“3, 2, 1… Begin!” the Voice hollered.

I took off like a comet. But I wasn’t aiming for a speed record this time. I made a beeline for the target closest to the crack, and then pulled a 90-degree turn to the left. Bracing myself against the metallic wall with my hooves, I let out a long, powerful blast of blue flame at the wall. A gaping, searing hole opened up in the sheet metal, and I leapt through, careful to avoid the cherry red sides.

At this point the Voice realized what I was doing. “After him! Open up the Anti Air batteries! Don’t let him ESCAPE!!!”

I looked behind me, searing a couple of griffons that had poked their heads from the hole. I squinted towards the bright noon sky, trying to get as high and far as possible. On the ramparts of the laboratory’s outer walls, I saw a rusty brown Pegasus pony grinning at me. The stallion was holding something akin to a telescope in his hand.
Ignoring him, I flew on, hoping to get as much distance as I could from the lab. A pair of turrets on the wall rotated towards me, spewing projectiles as I whizzed past automated guns.
I heard a loud bang followed by a wicked cackle. Then I felt myself slam onto the top of the south rampart. Four griffons pounced on me, holding and restraining me.
A bespectacled unicorn in a white lab coat appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to observe my struggles. Her expression almost blank, betraying little to no emotion. It was scary, quite frankly. The rusty brown equine following her was holding what I could now see was a marksman’s rifle. The coat-wearing unicorn laughed a grating, yet familiar laugh while she straightened her glasses.

“Clever foal. Unfortunately for YOU,” she paused a moment, smirking sadistically. “For every action, there is a consequence. Beaker, take his wings.”

One of the griffons paused, perplexed. “What do you mean, ma’am?”

“I mean take his wings. Rip them off.” She replied.

My hazel eyes widened in horror as the griffon reluctantly stepped closer to me. He grasped my leather wings firmly and yanked them sharply out of their sockets. The griffon gaped in horror at what’d he’d just done as blood eked from the rips in my back.

“Patch him up, and get him back in his cell,” the unicorn said. “He’ll be perfect for my personal project. Move the colt up to B sector.”

Just before I passed out from the pain, it clicked!

“You’re the Voice…” I groaned, blacking out.

I woke up on my metallic palette with white bandages wrapped around my midsection. There was a full-length mirror in my cell now. As I stirred I noticed that my formerly beautiful brown pelt was now a pale gray, nearly white. The only color left in my fur was red. There were crimson streaks on my body and in my mane. Not to mention that my pupils had elongated into draconic slits.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” I groaned.

I sat down on the palette, holding my head in my hooves.

That dreaded Voice spoke into my cell. “Yes. We’ve begun a new batch of tests on you. Unfortunately, our genome splicing has drained all the brown pigment from your coat. ‘Tis a shame, really,” she laughed wickedly at my plight.

I sighed, resigned to my fate, and awaited breakfast as well as a schedule of my new training regime. I was sure that SOMETHING would be changed after my little escape attempt.

Chapter 4

As per my expectations, I was led into a new room today with a giant treadmill in the center. The room itself had bleachers and crow’s nests lining the perimeter of the same drab slate gray metal sheets for wall. All around were masked ponies toting rifles.

“Today, you will learn by trial and error. How long can you run the gauntlet before getting shot?” the Voice squawked through the intercom, making little attempt to hide her joy.

I knew she was trying something, but unwilling to resist, I nervously stepped onto the treadmill as it began to work. I started off at a brisk jog, followed by a trot, then a canter, then a full gallop as it reached full speed. The soldiers on either side of me primed their weapons and began firing into the middle distance at me from their perches above. Bullets were whizzing at me like a rain of arrows, but my instincts told me what to do.
Deftly, I ducked, rolled, and snaked between the torrents of projectiles. Feeling confident, I surged forward, outpacing the treadmill and launching myself off the front end. I landed on the floor some 10 meters past the treadmill. The gunners stopped shooting and began applauding my skill; the Voice, however, was infuriated at my success. I was led out, haltered and muzzled yet again. My exit was followed by continued fanfare from the gunners and the Voice’s hysterical screams of rage at how I’d defied death.

Tonight when I got back to my metal bed, I saw a pillow and calendar on my floor. There was a note attached by the same griffon, judging by the untidy penmanship. It read:

Brutus,
I left you a pillow and calendar to keep you sane at night. I’ve already marked off the passed days for you so you can know just how long it’s been since your incarceration. I’d suggest stowing the calendar and pillow every morning before inspection.

Whoever this benevolent bird was, I had a feeling he would be my ticket out. I slept well that night, clutching the griffon’s gift between my hooves.

***

Absolutely nothing of interest happened for the next month. Every day passed with the same routine: wake up, eat, flame training, obstacle course, gauntlet, torture, bed, repeat.
But one day, on December the 9th, (according to the griffon’s gift) a soft rapping came at my door around what I’d assumed was midnight.

“Wha- daytime already?” I asked, groggily getting off my palette.

“Shh… Keep it down. I’ll be right in. Be quiet, kid,” an unfamiliar voice whispered, echoing almost inaudibly down the halls.
With a jangle of keys and the turning of a knob, the door opened.

There, standing before me, was the rusty brown pony from my first (and currently only) escape attempt. He wore a Stetson hat, bandana, and a bandolier with a sniper rifle, which apparently was loaded with some wicked looking rounds. He walked in slowly. He closed the door behind him, attempting to make as little noise as possible as the lock clicked shut. I warily backpedaled into a corner out of fear, flinching slightly under his hard, steely gaze. Then, something amazing happened. He smiled at me, and his expression softened.
It was the first time in a long time I’d seen another pony, let alone a SMILING pony. And a glorious smile it was! I’d almost forgotten what the expression of joy looked like. He sat down on my palette, motioning for me to take a seat next to him.
I quickly obeyed out of fear that I might be hurt in some way.

He sighed a tired sigh, and then he began. “My name is Grit. I’m the leader of a bandit group outside of a town named Appleloosa.”

He opened a saddlebag and unfurled a map, pointing to it. “My dream has always been to make my fortune. I could retire with my bandit buddies and move back to Ponyville, my home town.”
He pointed to another spot on the map, by the border of Equestria, east of a dot named Canterlot. “Well, this little ‘side-job’ sniping down escapee’s for a lab pays well, especially for my continued silence. But after that fillyfooler dastard ripped those wings of yours off… Well…”

He paused a moment, seeming to struggle with something internally.
“I can’t stand for it. I’d hate to have MY wings ripped off. So, I’ve hatched a plan to get you and me outta here. You in?” Grit asked, grinning with a mixture of determination and nervousness.

Something told me he was going to attempt to bust out whether I came or not. Unsure as what to say, since I hadn’t spoken in a long time, I just nodded my assent.

“Good, now here’s what we’ll do…” Grit began, launching into his elaborate plan…

Chapter 5

After 2 weeks of waiting and training, it was finally the day. The night before our agreed upon escape day I had made sure to pop the sleeping pills Grit had given me so I would have a good nights rest.
When I was awakened I was led out of the cell and into the flame training room. This time, when my bronze wings dropped from the ceiling as per usual, I slipped them onto my back without even putting them on. I snubbed the soda provided for me, breathing in deeply.
Remembering what Grit taught me about long range spitting, I hurled my fireballs in very tight, quick successions, never once leaving the ground. In ten seconds flat I had cleared the course.
I trotted out towards the obstacle course, holding my head high, waving away the griffon with the halter and muzzle. The Voice was so shocked she never noticed that I still had my wings.

As I trotted to the obstacle course, I ran through the plan one last time. Today the Voice would be adding a ‘piston obstacle’ to the course, in which sections of the floor would abruptly rise in my path or attempt to crush me.
I arrived and waited for the Voice to count me off. The moment she said go I galloped towards the first obstacle as fast as I could. Hearing a whirring beneath the floor, I screeched to a halt on top of the source of the noise, letting the piston propel me across the room.
I landed dead center on the goal. As the platform lowered to let me down, I couldn’t help it! I laughed! It was a light, sprightly thing, quite foreign to my ears.

I told myself, Onward to the gauntlet, Brutus.

Unfortunately, Grit had no ideas of how to breeze through this course, so I had to do my best work. As usual, instinct guided me to dodge a veritable hail of projectiles. I slipped up once, though, taking a chunk off my ear. I shrugged it off as nothing as I was led away to my nightly torture.
Upon arriving I was strapped into my metallic table and told to await the attendant.

As the griffon came in with a syringe and taser, I whispered, as instructed, “Beaker?”

Surprised, the griffon put a wing feather up to his beak, signaling for mum. I nodded slightly, waiting with bated breath. Over the intercom in which the Voice talked to me I heard Grit speaking.

“Hello Miss Bryant! Whatcha doing there?” Grit asked very loudly.

“I’m observing the nightly torture of my patient. What do you require, Mr. Grit?”

“Oh, you watch this every night?” Grit inquired innocently as Beaker began tasering me, turning the power extra low.

“Yes…” The Voice, AKA Miss Bryant, said, getting frustrated.

Grit donned a childish smile. “Can I watch too?”

“Fine. Just as long as you promise to leave afterward.”

“Oh, I promise. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!”

“Cute. Now be quiet.”

“Yes’m. I won’t make a peep.”

Grit saluted, obviously mocking her. I could just barely make out through the tinted glass that he was standing to the left and slightly behind the unicorn.

After about 5 seconds of silence and pain, Grit stretched. “Oh I’m tired. I think it’s time for bed.”

I could faintly hear sounds of scuffling. The silhouette of a hat-bedecked pony loomed from behind a cowering horned shadow.

“Hey! Let go of me, rube!” Bryant squealed, intercom forgotten.

The shade of Grit’s forelegs intercepted the shadows’ head.

“Lights out, fillyfool.” At these words, I saw the shadow of the unicorn flash swiftly towards the window, headfirst. Now I could clearly see Bryant, muzzle smashed against the pane, a massive smear of blood staining the otherwise flawless rectangle of glass.

Not willing to waste any time, Beaker tossed the taser into a corner and began unstrapping me. “Let’s get going, young one! We’ll meet Grit on the second floor. Grab my wing so I don’t lose you.”

I wrapped his wing around my intact ear and let him lead me up the white-tiled ramp to the second floor of the building. The rusty brown was crouching behind a barricade of crates and overturned gurneys, firing down the hall at a line of griffons with his rifle.

“Grit!” I called, baring my neck for him.

He leapt back, sniper rifle in one hoof, and Colt pistol in the other.

He pressed the pistol to my head and yelled at the crowd of injured attendants, “Get within 5 meters and I’ll blow Ms. Bryant’s pet’s brain out, y’hear me?”

On that note, he began inching back, Beaker covering his rear as we stepped out into the sunlight together. Six masked pony troopers were waiting for us, grinning and giving hooves-up. The gun turrets were fizzing and smoking, engineers were milling about in frustration on the ramparts. The troopers took up positions on either side of Grit and me, sweeping cover objects with gunfire. Soon we had left the compound, and Grit tossed one of the ponies a ring of keys.

He pointed to an Armored Personnel Carrier parked in a corner lot and ordered, “Breadstuffing! Get the gold key with the red teeth, jump in the APC and start driving!”

Quick to comply, the equine named Breadstuffing hopped into the seat, whipping the vehicles tail around to open the blast door to admit the small band of escapees. We jumped in as the driver rapidly switched gears.

Grit opened up the topside hatch and began shooting, yelling as we drove off, “See ya later, suckers!”

Chapter 6

We had parked the APC in a clearing of a strange, dark forest. Grit had made a fire, and we sat around it, warming our hooves against the night chill.
The tree’s seemed to curl in around us, like monsters. A dank, bittersweet smell hung in the air, but I didn’t mind. I was with friends. These friends were pony troopers that’d helped us escape the lab. I had later found out from Grit that they were his bandit buddies.
Oddly enough, tonight they weren’t laughing, singing, or cracking up like our jolly band had been in the week since our escape, the happiest week of my life. I finally had a family after so long.
But I digress. These courageous stallions were sitting in a circle looking serious and distressed. I wondered what had them in an upheaval as I clopped my hooves together for warmth. Grit gave his trademark heave, launching straight into his speech.

“Brutus. There’s something really bad going on. It’s been going on for 5 days now. I haven’t wanted to tell you about it. Celestia knows you’ve gone through Hay and back. But this,” He paused for dramatic effect, taking a breath, “This is REALLY bad, and it’s REALLY important that we do something about it.”

He withdrew a map from one of his saddlebags, unfurling it across the loamy earth. He pointed to a green splotch on the map. “We’re here. The Everfree Forest.”

He took out a stick of chalk and circled six red dots on the map.

Grit continued, “Here are Cloudsdale, Trottingham, Hoofington, Phillydelphia, my fair Appleloosa, and Ponyville, respectively. All of them are towns or cities. Each of them is also being attacked by masked soldiers and demented mutant ponies. Ms. Bryant has gone Betty bonkers and released her test subjects, most of them driven insane from prolonged torture. She’s staging a hostile takeover from her compound in West Abtenauer, using the anarchy caused by the failed experiments as a smoke screen, or cover.”

I nodded, indicating that I understood, and then inquired, “But what does this have to do with us?”

Grit smiled like a father, nodding. “Firstly, if Ms. Bryant swipes Equestria out from under us, I guarantee you she won’t be merciful when she decides to look for ‘those escaped ponies’. Secondly, Trottingham alone has a population of roughly 120 thousand equine. Bryant’s a brutal mistress, and will likely test on or slaughter a good number of them, keeping a few as slaves. 120 thousand ponies, Brutus! That’s just counting Trottingham!”

I dipped my head, starting to realize the scope of what was going on.

Grit continued, “Thirdly, my family, Scootaloo and Cheerilee both live in Ponyville. They are my younger sisters and are in direct danger. The only thing keeping the mutants and soldiers at bay in that area is a small troop of my old school friends, christened The Valiant Braves.”

He paused for a moment, catching a lungful of air, sniffing the smells of the forest. He looked directly into my pupils, lacking the fear of my draconic irises that I’d often seen in the griffon’s faces at the lab.

After a long while of this, he asked me two straightforward words, the same he’d asked me when we had made our escape plan three weeks ago. “You in?”

After a moment, I smiled hesitantly. Grit clapped his hooves excitedly, registering my expression as a yes.

“I knew it wasn’t a mistake, freeing you!” Grit hollered eagerly, beginning to detail his plan of action. “Our first tiny problem is…”

Chapter 7

A few days after that event is where we find me now. I soared overhead on my artificial wings, spotting for Grit’s APC, which was lugging our new ‘borrowed’ howitzer tow as we drove towards our first target.
I’d been surveying the countryside, looking for large groups of enemy troops, or ‘bogies’, as Grit called them, when I had discovered an armored company carrying the labs black-gray colors bearing down on Auxois, an average town about 6 miles northeast of Trottingham. It was clear that Bryant’s forces were going to flatten the smaller town, and then travel on to cripple Trottingham’s defenses from its unprotected north side.
My radio buzzed from its perch in its special holster.

Grit was trying to get my attention, apparently, for he exclaimed, “Hey, Quicksilver! What’s the situation?”

Shouting towards my rump, I replied, “1.5 kilometers northeast of Auxois, heading roughly 10 kilometers per hour. I see three tanks, a long-range rocket launcher tow, and 2 armored cars. They appear to be corralling mutants into the town.”

“ No need to shout, kid.” Grit whispered, holding his ear. “We’re adjusting course to intercept. Here’s the plan; the carrier is going to drop the howitzer tow in the company of Foaler and me on the summit of Mount Camarillo. I’ll snipe while Foaler shells the enemy company. Our APC will then proceed to drop off the rest of us to hold the bogies in place while we finish them off.”

I nodded, and then inquired, “I will be doing--?”

“After each shelling the mortar will need reloading. He’ll be aiming for the anti-air guns on the back of that rocket launcher tow, enabling you to fly in from the sky, flaming the tanks while Foaler’s filling the launch tube. Don’t worry about the enemy infantry. My boys can take care of them, and anypony that manages to react in time to shoot you will either miss or have his projectiles caught by your bulletproof vest,” instructed Grit.

“Sounds good. I’ll keep the channel clear so you can talk to the others.”

“Alrighty, good colt. Play it safe, Quick. You’re part of the family, and I’ma cry like a baby if you get shot.”

“Gee, thanks dad.” I replied, chuckling as I waited for the first shelling.

After a short pause, Grit said, “Glad to see you opening up a little, kid.”

Did he think I was serious about the Dad bit? I wondered.

My ponderings were interrupted by a loud bang, coupled by a whizzing noise.

I’ll have to ask him where he got that tow after this, I thought to myself as I watched a shell careen into the missile launcher haul at high velocity, ripping it apart in a fiery blaze.

I saw our APC skid to a halt and discharge 5 bandits armed to the teeth, grinding their jaws in rage as the opposing tanks hailed repeater bullets down on our vehicle.
Seeing a break in the fire, I zipped towards the smallest of the anti-armor, spitting a fury of fireballs at it. My first shot went wide; second melted a tread, fusing it to the ground, but the third was a jackpot. The turret’s main gun had been amalgamated together, and wasn’t going to be useful for anything any more. I took a quick blast at the gunner of a second vehicle as I pulled up, setting him ablaze.
With a couple of loud thuds, the third armor’s gunner fell, and an APC was blasted to smithereens by a second artillery shell. Ponies, 16 in all, began pouring from the unharmed personnel carrier, toting rifles and grenades.
I swept down, hurling flame at the only undamaged tank left. A lucky fireball caught the radiator on the stern plate, creating a backlog of heat and flame within the vehicle. As I hurtled upward to pave the way for the next bombardment, the third armor began steaming and vibrating. The outlaw ponies ducked underneath our vehicle, knowing what was about to transpire. The turret blew off the top, and a wretched haze erupted from the tank’s open top in mighty bellows, followed by the wretched cries of the damned crew.
Flabbergasted, the masked troopers from the lab began piling into the still-open armored car in order to escape. One last shell bombarded the personnel carrier, taking the cowards with it. Exhausted, I surveyed the carnage as Grit began giving orders.

Soon he got around to me. “Alright Quicksilver, let’s head back to the HQ. Don’t forget me now, kid!”

“Of course not,” I replied, dropping down to our APC.

“We’re heading back now. Nice job taking out that gunner.”

“Haha, poor yuppie didn’t stand a chance.” There was a pause in his voice, and I could hear his breathing through the static. “I’m… You’ve taken the worst possible situation in your life and turned it to good. Better than I ever did.”

“Wow, thanks.” I said, blushing a bright red. “I’m—“

“Hay now, where are you all? Getting bored up here.” Grit shouted through the radio irritably.

One of the bandits, Breadstuffing, beckoned to me. “C’mon! We’ll give you a ride back. Come closer, bud.”

I flew down, landing next to him.

He whispered in my ear, “Boss doesn’t show emotion well, but he cares for you, possibly more than even his little sis, Scoots. Now,” He said, clapping his hooves. “Let’s get rolling. Next stop, home!”

Chapter 8

After taking a break at our base camp in the Everfree Forest, (which I found out later was at the same time conveniently in the center of, yet isolated from, the Equestrian conflict) we packed up and headed out to Ponyville, which was about half a mile from the forests edge.
As our car pulled up, six mares emerged from the shadows, all armed and armored, carrying ordinance that made our own weapons look like colt’s toys.

Grit popped the top hatch, grinning. “Hey mates! Where’s my Scootaloo?”

“Aye, and where’s my little bro, Pipsqueak?” Breadstuffing asked, unrolling a window and poking his head out the side.

“Breadstuffing? Grit? Ah thought y’all’d tooken up lootin’ in the Mild West!” Applejack exclaimed, the Gatling gun attached to her saddle via tripod spinning slowly.

“Nah, we found out working as lab guards paid more. Speaking of, hey Quicksilver, come out here and meet The Valiant Braves!” Grit shouted down the hole at me.

“Grit… I’d rather not…” I said uncertainly. I’d never interacted with ponies besides my mom and Grit’s gang.

“Oh c’mon, they’re nice folks. Say hi!” Grit replied, popping his head back down inside as the other bandits filed out.

“My eyes, my mane… I’ll be an outcast…” I muttered, looking down in fear and shame.

“You’ve faced 3 tanks and ranks of soldiers, son—ah, kid. Please? For yer uncle?” Grit grinned his Grit grin at me confidently, hoping to win me over.

I smiled, answering, “Sorry. Can’t I stay in the APC?”

He sighed, beckoning to one the Valiants to come here.

“I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve got my sister Scootaloo to attend to.” He said, trotting off the ramp gaily into the sunlight.
A small yellow Pegasus mare with a pink mane walked up the ramp and sat beside me.

“Hi, I’m Fluttershy.” She said quietly, grasping my hoof.

“What’s your name?” She asked, her foreleg in mine strangely comforting.

“I-I’m Quicksilver. Hello, Fluttershy.” I said, drawing out from my dark corner into the daylight.

She stepped back a pace at the spectacle that was my eyes, shivering. “Well, let’s go meet the others, shall we?”

“I’m sorry to have startled you. And, yes, gladly.” I replied, stumbling over my words in an effort to be friendly.

***

We sat down to a huge repast at Sugarcube Corner, the local bakery. I took a place between Grit and Fluttershy. As the spread was laid before us conversation began picking up.

I leaned towards Grit, asking him, my voice barely above a whisper, “Why do I have to be Quicksilver?”

“Well, you don’t know where you’re from, and if people recognize your name then you could open old wounds and such. Best to let dead ponies be dead, eh? Also, Quicksilver is a neat name, don’tcha think?” Grit murmured back, patting me on the shoulder.

“Let’s tuck in!” He announced in a louder tone.

Everypony began chomping down on vittles with a zeal uncharacteristic of the few prisoners I’d seen back in my days at the lab.

“So, Quicksilver,” Twilight started, turning to look at me.

I shrunk away slightly under her gaze. Her intimidating velvet eyes seemed to bore into my soul.

Noticing my discomfort, she said, “Let me introduce you to our merry band. In the kitchen Mr. and Mrs. Cake,” She pointed to two homely ponies just visible through the kitchen swing doors, “Fluttershy, as I can see you’ve already met.”
Fluttershy reddened slightly, glancing away quickly.

“Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rarity,” Twilight rattled off, gesturing to each in turn, “and then there’s me, Twilight Sparkle, protégé of the Princess.”

Everypony waved, greeting me.

Twilight took a breath, waiting for the introductions to die down, and then asked, “How’d you come to meet our pal Grit here?”

I looked towards him, expecting permission to tell my story. He cordially gave me a hoof’s up, indicating for me to do it.

“Well, I was raised at the lab Grit guarded.” I said softly, still very nervous. Fluttershy patted me on the back, reassuring me.

“Oh. What was it like at the lab?” Twilight inquired, bringing a notepad to bear with her magic.

“Well, for the first week they just filled me with drugs and did surgeries on me. Then one day, I was led into a large room and given this weird pair of artificial wings…” All reservations thrown out, I began reciting my story from my first day of flame training up to that point.

When I had finished, I looked around. Everypony had stopped talking, all eyes on me. Fluttershy was shivering compulsively, and Rainbow’s mouth was hanging somewhere between her stool and the floor.

Applejack was the first to speak. “She did WHAT to yer wings?”

Pinkie Pie jumped right in after AJ. “And they tortured you? That doesn’t sound fun at all.”

My eyes nervously wandered to the point of least resistance, which happened to be the mahogany table I was leaning on.

“Don’t hate me, please…” I muttered just above a whisper. “I’m not a monster. I saw the looks the townponie’s gave me as I left the APC.”

Fluttershy grabbed my hoof again as Twilight replied in a maternal way, “Oh Quicksilver. We couldn’t hate a fellow pony, especially not a special snowflake like you. You’ve been given a gift, and you’re apparently using it to help other equine. I bet your parents would be proud.”

I cringed, remembering Ms. Bryant’s orders nearly two years ago. Orders to raze the town, to blow it to bits, to annihilate it.

It tore my heart out, filling me with tears, which Twilight must’ve noticed, for she attempted to comfort me. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten about the unicorn. You’re home now, though, right girls?”

There was assent all across the table.

“And ya’ve got yer Uncle Grit ta talk ta whenever ya need it.” Applejack chimed in, coming up from behind me to pat my head.

I smiled and thanked them.

Grit broke the moment by cutting in. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m exhausted. Quick, you can stay with me at sis’ house, aight?”

“Sounds like a plan. Where will our bandits sleep though?” I asked.

“Bread and Foaler are shacked up at Bread’s parents house, you’re with me, Hoofstavson’s with Fluttershy. Beerwarmer and Harvest Barley are sleeping in the APC to make sure it isn’t stolen. We’re all taken care of.” Grit replied, clapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s go get some rest. You’ve got some scouting to do tomorrow.”

I nodded and followed him out the door into the street.

Turns out Cheerilee only had one spare bed, but Grit took all the sheets off his kip, and with a few clever loops, made me a pretty nice hammock to sleep in.

“Go ahead, jump on it. Don’t worry, I guarantee my knot’s are sound.” He said, beckoning to the cloth cocoon, swinging between two rafters in the loft.

Trusting him, I shrugged, pouncing on it, unfurling my metallic wings. Lo and behold, it held my weight very nicely.

“Thanks, Grit.” I cooed, snuggling deep within the fabric’s folds.

“Any time, kid. Good night.” Grit patted my head and loped off to his own bed.

Chapter 9

I woke up with the sun, rubbing my eyes, stretching and yawning. I leapt out of my hammock, trotting down the ramp to the first floor, which doubled as a kitchen and living room. It was nicely furnished with a bar and cabinets all around.
A circular table sat in an alcove just waiting to be used for some delicious meal. Cheerilee was already up and about cooking breakfast.

“Good morning Ms. Cheerilee.” I said, taking a seat at the bar.

“Hello, Quicksilver. What would you like for breakfast? Eggs, toast, fruit, anything you could want I have.” She took a quick look around, and then leaning against the table, she bucked the wall, blender falling from an open cabinet, landing perfectly on the marble countertop.

“Oatmeal smoothies? They’re Grit’s favorite, mum’s the word, okay?” She whispered, winking at me.

“Uhh, sure. Mum. Smoothies sound a million times better than the gruel at the lab, to be quite honest.” I replied as I watched her work.

“Oh trust me, it’s a lot better than whatever they feed you anywhere, but don’t let Mrs. Cake hear me say that. Why, these smoothies have whetted the palettes of such distinct patrons as Octavia the Archcellist and Prince Blueblood.” She bragged, loading the food processor high with delicious looking grain.

“Oh? Tell me about that. Sounds interesting. And how do you know my name?” I looked at her intently.

Just then, Grit came rushing down the ramp, smacking into the wall. Righting his hat, he sat down in the breakfast nook.

He shouted, “SMOOTHIES, Scootaloo! Get up! Cheerilee’s making her smoothies! C’mon, you orange poultry!" he waved a hoof, sitting at the table. "That little tangerine slacker, I’ll get her after I’ve had vittles.”

I turned to him. “So, what’s on the agenda?”

Grit sighed, shaking his mane. “As much as I’d like to visit with the ponyfolk, Bryant’s army is still out there, and I’m sure that Equestria is still losing to it.”

Grit paused as Cheerilee brought us our smoothies. We thanked her, each drinking our creamy beverages.

He took a second sip before continuing: “Obviously we’ll need to intercept Bryant’s forces before they reach their respective towns. Which means after breakfast you’ll need to do some reconnaissance.”

“Oh, Grit. You need to know that inter-town commerce has been shut down for the time being. The mutants have been assaulting merchants and shipping caravans. That coupled with the masked army bearing down on our towns, we can’t spare any fighting ponies to protect the suppliers wagons,” Cheerilee interjected, sitting down at the table with her own confection.

“Well then, I suppose we’ll need to do a critter round up. Can AJ be spared for that? Do you know? She and Foaler could go around with a cart or something and detain stray mutants.” Grit said, downing another shot from his cup.

He frowned. “Oh, buck this whole sipping thing.”

Slamming the oak tabletop’s edge, he flipped the entire glass into his mouth, letting the sweet liquid fall down his throat. I could see his tongue questing throughout the inside of the cup for more. Satisfied with his conquest, he spat the now empty glass onto the countertop some 10 feet away.

Cheerilee looked at the now slobbery tumbler with distaste, moving it to the sink. “Seems your manners still leave much to be desired, brother.”

I doubled over laughing, falling on the floor, writhing in giggles.

I wiped my eyes and stood, heading towards the door. “Alright. I’ll take the map and go mark bogies. Cheerilee, I guess you’ll go talk to AJ and Foaler about rounding up the mutants. Grit; get the boys prepped to sortie. Also, see about a replacement for Foaler, since he’ll be indisposed.”

Grit stared at me, eyes wide as dinner plates. “Since when did YOU become the leader?”

I tossed a grin not unlike his and shot back, “I take after my dad. Now toss me the map.”

Grit, his mind blank, complied aimlessly.

“See ya in an hour. If I’m not back by them I’ve either lost track of time or been captured.” I saluted the two, diving headfirst out the door.

As I took off I could hear Cheerilee say, eyebrows raised, “Dad, huh. Somethin’ you want to tell me, Gritzy?”

Chapter 10

I flew through the chilly morning air as fast as I could, trying to keep the map from fluttering too much. As I soared I took notes, drawing lines indicating the Bryant Army’s spread. I scribbled X’s here and there to represent enemy companies, writing numbers next to the X’s to indicate troop amounts.
After about thirty minutes Rainbow came out to watch me work.

“Hey there, slick. Brought you some breakfast,” she said, opening a saddlebag and tossing me a coffee muffin.

I put my chalk behind my ear. Catching it, I dug into it gratefully, bittersweet flavor filling my mouth with happiness.

“Thanks, Rainbow. Oatmeal smoothies taste good, but ain’t much for ya,” I quipped, thankful for the snack.

“I know whatcha mean. Nice to see you lightening up,” she replied, biting into her own pastry.

“Thanks again. Want to see what I’ve drawn up so far? These lines represent the army’s general territory, with the X’s being actual troops. Sort of like a connect-the-dot game.”

Rainbow laughed at my analogy. “Well, Quicksilver. When you’re finished come back quickly. We’ve got much to do, and little time.”

I nodded. “I’m just about done here. We can head back now, before everypony starts worrying about me.”

With that we took off, back towards town.

***

I landed in Ponyville Square, RD having gone off on some other errand.

Grit trotted up to me, clipboard trapped within the folds of a wing. “We’re ready to go. The Valiant Braves’ will be running an assault as well, on the basis of your map.”

Twilight plodded up. “May I borrow your atlas for a spell?”

With my permission, she took my ‘atlas’ from my saddlebag and began copying my notes onto her own. Soon she hoofed it back to me.

I unfurled it on a folding table set out for us, pointing to a black X with lines pointing to a medium sized town, nestled in the valley between two mountains. “There’s a large force there: 6 tanks, 10 APC’s, 2 mortar tows, and a cadre of B copters. All headed to Bardigiano.”

“Wait, B Copters?”

“Combat helicopters, Grit. I found a bunch of vehicle flashcards in the bottom storage box of the APC.” I chuckled at his dumbfounded face, returning to the map.

“I have a feeling this company is going to flatten Bardigiano, using the newly created opening in the Equestrian defense grid to flood the rest of the area with soldiers. Afterwards Bryant’s forces will probably coalesce here.”

I pointed to a flat, light green section of the map, “and move on to assault Canterlot from the top of the Breadcrumb Flats.”

Grit’s eyes widened. “They’re going to shell Canterlot! How fast are they moving?”

I pondered for a second, trying desperately to remember how fast the enemy army appeared to be making progress this morning.

“I’d say 15 kilometers an hour. They were 4 kilometers out about 45 minutes ago. Oh buck!” I exclaimed, a realization dawning on me. “Grit! Load up, NOW! They’re attacking as we speak!”

Chapter 11

I soared overhead, keeping almost directly above the APC. I could hear the armored car whining in protest as it tore through the landscape faster than it was ever meant to, mortar in tow. Grit and Harvest Barley were already on the tow. Grit used his sniper rifle to spot for Harvest as she wildly rained shells down in the general vicinity of the enemy army.
While it was a waste of ammunition, since they went far wide more often than not, it did have the desired effect of sending Bryant’s ponies into a panic because they were unprepared for a bold (and stupid) mortar ambush like ours.
I checked our surroundings one last time before flying off to eliminate the copters.

“Grit, you hear me?” I asked.

“Yea kid. What’s up?” He replied through the radio.

“Ramp at 9 o’ clock. If you can jump it with the APC, the startle it would cause should be enough to scatter their force. You’ll need everypony out of the vehicle to do it though. Probably hanging from the side rails would be best.” I pointed a hoof towards his left.

“On it. Bread, try and jump that vertical incline!” Grit yelled through his communicator.

I had no time to watch, however. The B-choppers had spotted me. Moving to intercept, the whirlybirds spat bullets in my general direction. Doing a barrel roll, I positioned myself above the copters, hurling fiery death at them. They didn’t stand a chance as their propellers caught the fireballs head-on, disintegrating into metallic ash, sending their charges down to earth.
I turned back to the ground combat. The APC jumping tactic had worked well, scattering the enemy infantry like leaves in the wind. The tanks had managed to junk the car though, leaving a smoldering chassis behind.
Our howitzer tow was shelling the vehicles at point blank range, wreaking havoc on the enemy’s own mortars.
The bandits surged forward from the scrapped APC, opening fire on the scattered troopers.
I began torching the tanks, fusing barrels, killing gunners, and melting radiator plates. At one point I found Grit hanging from my back, sniping soldiers from midair. Tank after tank was vaporized in burning heaps under my fierce assault.
Soon nothing was left but a load of wreckage, a single black-on-gray APC unharmed. I landed, bucking Grit off me and into the dirt.

I looked to Foaler (who was covered in soot and burns from the close proximity explosions), asking, “How are we? Furthermore, how are YOU?”

I looked him over, noticing the burns and scratches.

“Shells aren’t supposed to be fired at that close a range, kid.” Foaler said gruffly, coughing a black and red cloud of exhaust, judging by the smell. “But I’m fine. It’s Breadstuffing that’s in trouble. Don’t look in the APC.”

Hoofstavson trotted up to me.

Spitting out a tooth, leaving a bloody puddle on the ground, he announced without emotion, “Bread’s dead, Quicksilver. I’d suggest you not glance into the armored car.”

I swallowed my sorrow, realizing I had to lead the guy’s home without a driver.

Grit, however, was worse off, prostrated with grief. He pounded the ground, muttering, “Why… Why… Why…” repeatedly.

I walked over to him, placing a hoof on his shoulder. “Bread knew exactly what he was doing when he followed our orders… He was a good stallion. Let’s take their carrier and get out of here before the other half of the army arrives.”

After a long pause, Grit looked up at me, nodding, a single tear flowing down his matted fur.

We headed back, ate lunch, and then waited for The Valiant Braves to get back before we delivered the news. The Braves rode up in a stolen APC not unlike ours.

Twilight rolled the window down and poked her head out, shouting, “Hey boys! How’d it go? And where’s Breadstuffing? Taking his usual nap?”

Grit lowered his head.

I sensed that he didn’t want to talk about it, so I answered for him. “Well, it went wonderfully, for the most part. Obliterated a large group heading towards Bardigiano. Unfortunately,” I paused, looking towards the other bandits.

They nodded for me to continue. “Breadstuffing was killed. A tank destroyed our vehicle, taking him with it.”

Hoofstavson nodded slowly, saying, “He died smiling and laughing maniacally, like he wanted. Grit’s really hurt by this, Bread was his one good friend and confidant.”

Needing something to do, I unfurled my wings, announcing that I was going to go scouting.

Chapter 12

While flying, I noticed something. A rippling line of black was heading directly towards Ponyville about 20 kilometers away. Squinting, I tried to get a count of the vehicles, but they were just too numerous and vastly spread to count.
I decided to just count the types, and I was shocked. Listing them off in my head, remembering the flashcards, I saw APC’s, tanks, recon cars, heavy tanks, assault tanks, mortars, rocket launchers, ground to air missile tows, vulcan anti-air guns, combat choppers, transport choppers, fighters, bombers and many more.
All of them were wearing the black on gray colors indicating Bryant’s masked army.
I began despairing until I noticed the blue on light blue standards of the Equestrian National Guard waving, just barely peeking out from a distant meadow.
Rainbow and Fluttershy joined me from my perch on a cloud.

“Hey slick. Looks like the Guard finally managed to get away from the coast in order to take care of Bryant.” Rainbow said.

Fluttershy grabbed my hoof for comfort as I asked RD, “My question is, where the hay did she get all these vehicles? The compound I remembered wasn’t big enough or funded well enough to support an army of that size.”

She pondered this a moment. “Well, the Griffon territories are very hostile towards Equestria. It’s possible they are supplying her in an effort to throw the place into chaos. Other than that, I have no clue.”

“Will the guard be enough to stop a force of this size?”

She chuckled. “There’s no way. It’ll take a hero or some such to stop THAT force. And believe me, slick; I am NOT a hero. Tried that once, didn’t work out too well.”

She cringed at the memory, taking off back to town to deliver a report about my findings. Fluttershy squeezed my hoof nervously, and then followed Rainbow back, leaving me alone on the cloud to ponder RD’s words.
The yellow Pegasus wheeled back, evidently struggling to say something. She mumbled incoherently.

“Is something the matter, Fluttershy?” I asked, drawing close to her.

“I-I was just wondering…”

“Go on.”

She inhaled; words flying from her mouth faster than a gatling gun could spew bullets. “What I really want to say but can’t because I’ve been so so so scared and unable to tell you out of fear that I’d distract you is that I really really like you and want to know if you’d like to meet at my house for a date.”

I blinked, attempting to process this litany.

“If you’re free.” Fluttershy added and ducked her head sheepishly.

“I’d be honored. It will have to wait until we resolve the Guard situation. We can’t leave them hanging, now can we?”

I grasped her hoof. She squeezed it tightly as we flew back together.

***

After spending a lot of time thinking, I headed back to the town square.

There, I found Grit waiting for me. “Well, commander? It’s your call about what to do about that massive army.”

I blinked at him in surprise.

Gathering myself quickly, I nodded. “Alright. If the Guard gets trounced here, which they most likely will, then the whole of Equestria is open for conquering by any who so wish to, Bryant included. Logically, the only option we have is to pull AJ and Foaler from mutant roundup duty so we can provide full support for the Guard. Go ahead and get the Braves loaded up, as well as the bandits. We’ve got some tail to kick.”

Chapter 13

My ragtag ‘army’ sat down at the long table in Sugarcube Corner, a large map with my notes copied on it spread across the wooden surface.

“Here’s the idea,” I began, “We’ll take Gelderland Hill here. When Bryant’s army advances, we’ll hide underneath this outcropping, and then spring up onto the hill and rain shells on them from behind with the howitzer tow. By then the Guard should have engaged Bryant’s army. Twilight, AJ, and Pinkie Pie will hold the town, while Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Rarity hit their far side flank, sticking them in a four-way vice grip with the Guards at front, Braves on their left, Ponyville on their right, and the bandits in the rear.”

I finished, peering up from my writings at everyone.

Grit was the first to speak. “You sure you ain’t a famous tactician reincarnated, kid?”

I laughed, replying, “I’m sure, Grit. Anyways, I’ll be covering loose ends and providing a crutch if a side begins to buckle. Does everypony understand their job?”

They all nodded, looking to what was pretty much a foreign mutant pony with trust and respect. I valued that. “Let’s get moving.”

Everypony made to leave, but a knocking at the door of the bakery interrupted us. Opening the top half of the exit, I looked outside. Hordes of equine were standing there, holding whatever weapons they had. The weapons ranged from pistols and shotguns to scavenged machine guns and rocket launchers.

An icy blue female pony with a dark blue mane strode up to me, pearly white teeth glinting in the sunshine. “The name’s Colgate. Need some help, sir?”

***

After having integrated Colgate’s ‘militia’ into the existing troop divisions, we set out. I decided to stay with the APC in order to draw less attention to us.

As I sat and listened to the bandits socialize with the townsfolk, I fed that nagging thought in the back of my head. What is a hero?

I decided to inquire of Grit, who was sitting in the passenger seat.

“Hey Grit?” I asked. He turned around to face me, bracing a hoof on the driver-side seat.

“Yea, kid?”

I paused, unsure of myself. “Well, RD told me something a while back… And I was wondering… What’s a hero?”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it abruptly, turning back to look forward, chewing his lip.

After thinking long and hard about it, he rotated to face me again. “A hero is someone who does the right thing, to help as many people as possible, even though it may involve his own demise, physical or otherwise. I mean, in a nutshell. There’s a bit more to it than just that, of course.”

I raised another question. “What are the attributes of a hero?”

Grit frowned. “Well, a hero loves the people in his care so much he’s willing, and often does, die for them. I tell you the truth here, kid. If I speak every language in the world, yet have not love, I’m nothing. Hay, if I can fathom all the mysteries of the world, have a power that can move mountains, but lack love and compassion for others, I’m still not worth a lick. Even if I became the greatest ponitarian on the planet, giving all I had to the indigent, but still don’t have love for others, I’m dead inside.”

Grit breathed in heavily, a nostalgic sigh forming around his lips.

“Love? What’s love? And why’s it so necessary?” I wondered aloud.

He smiled, explaining it to me rather simply.

He said, “Love? Love is patient. Love’s kind, it doesn’t get jealous, doesn’t brag about its accomplishments, nor is it proud of what it has done. It doesn’t make fun of others, isn’t selfish, and isn’t easily angered. Love keeps no record of wrongs, but always trusts, protects, hopes, and perseveres, no matter what anyone may throw at it. That’s love.”

I looked back on his words, thinking, as the APC rolled down into the little outcropping I’d designated for it earlier. Hoofstavson turned the car off, blanketing us in a shroud of near instant silence. We listened with bated breath as if a single cough could give our position away. Bryant’s army passed directly over our hideout; the sound of pounding hooves and whirring treads audible above us. We all heaved a collective sigh of relief when the last tank drove past our overhang.

“Alrighty,” I began, voice barely above a whisper. “Give it 30 seconds, then we’ll start setting up.”

Gunfire began rattling off, mortar shells whizzing in the distance as I signaled Hoofstavson to begin driving. Quickly but carefully, we pulled out, taking care to attract as little attention as possible. Foaler hopped out, manning the mortar. I began listening to the radio, holding it by a wing.
General battle chatter, nothing more, I thought with relief.
Switching over to the agreed channel, I asked for a status report.

Twilight was the first to respond. “We’ve cleared out two tanks and an APC full of soldiers, but we’re being shelled by a cadre of howitzers positioned 5 kilometers north-west of us. If you don’t do something quickly, there won’t be a town for us to hold.”

“Affirmative. I’ll go blast those mortars. How’s everyone else?” I asked, leaping from the top hatch, taking to the skies towards the offending cannons.

“Rainbow here. A ground to air missile has hit me. I’ll be up as soon as I get this…” She sucked her breath in pain, continuing with gritted teeth. “Dang wound bandaged. You could be a little more careful you know, Fluttershy! Ow, that antiseptic bucking hurts!”

Fluttershy's fervent apologies could be just barely heard through the static.

Nearing the mortars at last, I swooped in, breathing flame with utmost prejudice. The first howitzer exploded in a spray of superheated metal. The second I disabled by knocking the gunner unconscious with a lead bar on the ground using it as a club, brandishing it with a wing.
The third gunner turned on me, pistol in hand.

I grinned at him, raising my hooves as if I was caught. “Hey, now. Don’t shoot me; I’m just a friendly Pegasus. You wouldn’t wanna hurt poor little old me now, would you?”

I inched toward him, maintaining my non-threatening pose. Realizing my intent, the driver’s eyes widened as large as dinner plates in fear of my iron bar. He dropped the gun and yelped, fleeing with a look of terror on his face at the dragon-pony. I chuckled.

“The mortars are down. Send a couple of Colgate’s fighters to man ‘em. Let’s use these boys while they still belong to us,” I ordered through the radio.

As I was flying back to the bandits, an unfamiliar voice crackled over my communicator. “Can you read me? This is Lieutenant Red Sun of the Equestrian National Guard.”

I looked back at my rump, astonished. The Guards found our channel, and are attempting to communicate?

I was dumbfounded.

“Yes sir, Quicksilver here, captain of the local militia. What can I do for you?” I returned. Best to see what he wants.

“Firstly, your troops are saving our hide. Secondly, our Commanding Officer, Octavia Philharmonica, has been shot in the gut by a sniper. Our chain of command is failing. We are in desperate need of leadership.”

My eyes widened.

Grit got on the channel, saying, “Well, Quicksilver is your stallion. Do us proud; lead us to victory. It’s all up to you.”

I gulped, never more nervous in my life.

“I’ll do my best with the gifts given me, Dad.” With that, I jumped right into my new task of molding the Guard with the militia. “Lieutenant, organize your troops into three groups: red team, blue team, and green team. Red team will come in on the left from the flank, hemming the opposing force into the center. Green team will do the same from the right. Blue team will hold the blackcoats in place, shelling them with mortars and missiles while my own forces close in from the rear, trapping them. Got it?”

After a brief pause, Red Sun replied, “Yes sir. We’re assembled, just give the order.”

“Any time you’re ready, Lieutenant.” I quested around, looking at my army’s positions.

The green team had acted. Using the support from the Valiant Braves as a crutch, they advanced into a swelling horde of angry machinery. I watched patiently as Bryant’s army started crumbling beneath the fierce pressure of the Guard. Soon, our opposition had curled up into a bristling corral of tanks.
A shell whizzed past my ear. I perked up, aware of danger. Looking behind me, I saw a mint green unicorn and beige pony, both manning the previously abandoned mortars.
I grinned, turning back to watch the tightened ball of troopers disintegrate into a mob attempting to retreat from the open-sided rear.
While our pinning from the back didn’t work, it was satisfying to watch, laughing, as a small scrap of the once mighty Guard, now numbering 100 vehicles from their previous 450, chase down, crippling or destroying a still-large force of masked soldiers and black tanks.
I flew down to the bandit’s entrenchment watching the cloud of gray high-tailing it back to wherever they came from.

Chapter 14

We all sat down to a hearty meal at Sugarcube Corner, minus Rainbow. After Fluttershy had patched her side up, she’d apparently performed several ‘rainnukes’ in a row, tearing her side open even worse. She’d definitely be in the hospital for a couple of days at the very least.
After much food and socializing, I broke the revelry.

Standing and raising my hooves in order to get everyone’s attention, I began to speak. “As you know, Bryant’s army has been tracked back to the lab, where the Guards report that they are licking their wounds, apparently planning another offensive. It’s obvious that we must stop them here and now.”

I dropped back down to the table as a pain abruptly filled my chest. I proceeded to double over, coughing blood. Everypony stood up, rushing to my side.

“AJ, pick him up. We’ll need to get him to my library ASAP. Pinkie, go straight to the hospital and tell the nurse to make a house call. Hurry!” Twilight ordered, hovering over my prone form.

***

Twilight opened the door to her library for Applejack. AJ laid me on a bed, her look of concern bothering me. I attempted to smile feebly, failing.

Twilight rushed around asking various questions. “Does he have a fever? How does his breathing sound? Does he hurt anywhere?”

I watched her hurry about for a moment.

My voice barely above a whisper, I replied, “Calm down, Twi. I feel hot, my breathing is shallow and rapid, and my chest hurts.”

I sat up, starting to feel better, strangely enough.

Applejack put her hoof on my shoulder. “Lie back down. Ya need ta stay still while we wait fer the doctor.”

Twilight hovered a scalpel and microscope in midair with her magic. “I’ll need to take a bit of your fur for analysis. I have a theory, but I’ll need to test it.”

With that, she sliced a bit of my mane, beginning to pick at it. Separating a single hair from the rest, she placed it in a small vial. Inserting the glass tube into a circular slot, she flipped a switch, causing the slot to vibrate rapidly. Turning from the strange machine, Twilight looked me over thoroughly.
Beckoning Grit over, she pointed to my neck.

“Do these look like scales to you?” She inquired.

He nodded, frowning. “Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“I can’t be certain till I’ve completed my test, but yes.”

Grit shook his head and left to be alone for a spell. Twilight took the vial out of the contraption. She then removed a tablet of gel from a cabinet. Reaching into the same cupboard, she took out a battery.

Hooking it up to either side of the tablet, she emptied the contents of the vial onto the gel. “I’m going to use a process called gel electrophoresis to separate your DNA into fragments. Then we’ll be able to see if my fears are correct.”

Growing concerned, I asked, beginning to shiver out of an unexplainable cold, “What fears?”

She turned away, switching the battery on, watching as some very tiny bars of something slid across the tablet. “I have a feeling that your genome has been destabilized by Bryant’s DNA splicing. You could literally be unraveling before our eyes.”

Unplugging the battery, Twilight put a microscope over the tablet, zooming in for a closer look. A notepad hovered beside her, frantically taking notes.

“Got some bad news, Quick.” She said, removing her eye from her microscope, rotating to face me. “Your DNA IS unraveling at an alarming rate, and there’s no way to prevent further decay. I’m sorry, Quicksilver.”

Twilight turned to leave, sorrow on her face.

I laughed nervously. “Well, I suppose we’ll need to stay home for a couple of days, with both RD and I out. Will I be able to attend this last mission?” I asked.

She paused mid-stride. “Yes, but we can’t rely on you as leader, unfortunately.”

I nodded, pulling a fuzzy blanket from a top shelf. Wrapping myself in it, I followed her out.

Fluttershy was waiting for me outside, signs of worry etched across her face. “I asked Grit whether it’d be okay to let you stay with me for a couple nights. You know, to care for you better…” She blushed the color of her mane.

I smiled reassuringly. “That’ll be nice. We can have that date as well.”

She nodded, grasping my hoof. We began our leisurely walk back to her cottage.

After a day of bed rest and some argument with Twilight I finally got approval for my date with Fluttershy. It proved exceedingly difficult due to Rainbow’s anger at not being consulted first.
At dusk the following day, the pink maned mare and I cantered out to a meadow to watch the sunset, picnic baskets on our backs, saddlebags filled with sweets. We strolled a while, holding hooves and enjoying the scenery.
Neither of us dared to talk for fear of disrupting the peace. We arrived as the sun began to set and began unpacking our spread.

I started talking as I worked in order to break the tension. “Tell me about your animals. I hear you have a ton of them.”

“W-well yes. I have many different creatures, but my favorite are the bunnies.”

“I bet. They’re so gentle and sweet, kind of like you.” We both blushed, me as I realized what’d I’d said, Fluttershy at being complimented in such a manner.

We opened up considerably after that, chatting freely about nothing in particular as we chowed down on our delicious meal. For at least an hour after eating we sat, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon only to be replaced with a magnificent sea of stars.

I used a lull in our conversation to think about Rainbow and Grit’s words. I think I love these ponies. But do I? I suppose I am. And what about this whole ‘Hero’ thing? Do I want to be a hero? Do I have to die? And what if I’m not good enough? What if I fail to protect my people?

I paused. Fluttershy was watching me intently. Apparently she’d noticed my contemplative look.

I decided to voice my thoughts. After all, maybe she had some good advice. “I’ve been… struggling with something lately. I think I love everyone in Ponyville, but I’m not sure. I know I love Grit, and… well, maybe you, but everyone? I just don’t know. And being a hero means protecting your loved ones no matter what, but what if I fail? And—“

The Pegasus put a hoof to my mouth, silencing me. She stared into my eyes. “Quicksilver, you are the bravest stallion I know, and that’s saying a lot. I can tell that you care for the ponies of Equestria as much as, if not more than, I care for my own animals. Don’t worry about being a hero, that will come in it’s own time.” Abruptly, she clapped her hooves to her mouth, eyes wide. “I did NOT just say that! P-Please forgive me!”

I chuckled, “It’s fine, Fluttershy. I wouldn’t have told you my thoughts if I didn’t want an opinion on them. Let’s pack up and head back, we have a dinner then briefing to attend.”

Chapter 15

After finishing our dinner, Colgate now added to our number, I unfurled my now-tattered map, spreading it across the table. Thinking for a second, I rolled it back up, placing it in my saddlebag.

Retching for a split second, I started. “As you know, tomorrow night we will be going to West Abtenauer, the location of Bryant’s lab. Our group will mount an assault against the compound, and destroy it, ending this insane war once and for all. However, we cannot depend on my abilities or tactical prowess this time. As such, field command will be left to Grit. I’ll accompany you though, helping Grit. Here’s the plan:
“Grit and I will enter the compound from the side entrance. Both the bandits and militia will circle the lab, each holding a pole covered in headlights, as well as four training grenades. When they hear ‘For Equestria!’ they will turn their headlights on, throwing as many training grenades as they can towards the lab. The Braves will then shoot wildly at the air, shouting. Grit and I will detonate several military grade bombs from inside the compound at a few strategic locations. This SHOULD cause a panic, allowing our forces to stroll right in and slaughter them. Remember, numbers are NOT on our side, so we’ll have to win with cunning. Go gear up, we leave at dusk.”

I coughed once more as I stalked out of the bakery, leaving the other ponies to finish dessert.

***

After a long drive, we finally arrived at the West Abtenauer compound under the cover of night. The moon was beautifully full, bringing light to the surrounding forest. Grit was wearing a stolen uniform.

He had decided to sit with me in the back to keep me company, giving the passenger seat to Hoofstavson. “How’d your date go, by the way?”

“Very good. I’m feeling more confident about myself, but still, I can’t help but wonder… What if we fail?” I looked to him for reassurance.

He sighed, saying, “Don’t give me that look. We can only do the best we can do. Just remember our job, son.”

I nodded, steeling myself for what was ahead. The APC’s stopped just inside the tree line, obscuring us from view. The outlaws filed out, followed by the Valiant Braves, with the militia finally springing out the back, looking nervous. Grit and I were the last to leave.
I was manacled, promptly led into the compound using the side entrance. I wore my fuzzy blanket inside to both conceal myself from equine who might recognize me and because my body could no longer regulate its own temperature. This could, probably would be, my last mission.
As we wandered through the halls, Grit placed small but powerful Colt 4 explosive charges under furniture and trash receptacles, making sure to draw as little attention as possible. We meandered into a large, dark vehicle garage.

We turned on our radios, shouting, “For Equestria!”

Distantly, but strongly, like the voices of ten thousand mighty stallions, my army replied, “A sword for Celestia and for Quicksilver!”

I peered out the blast door into the cool night air. Surrounding the compound were hundreds of headlights. Each of them had bright flashes and gunfire sounding off near to them. Panicky masked soldiers began running to man the battlements and vehicles. Grit nodded in satisfaction, setting off the explosives as he did. All training forgotten, the lab guards began pouring from the gaping holes in the inner and outer walls, trying desperately to escape.
The outlaws, militia, and Braves rushed from the trees, putting the guards to the sword, leaving none alive. Suddenly, our revelry shattered as a vehicle from within the dark garage roared to life.

A voice from inside spoke, a twinge of mania and desperation evident in her speech. “I just wanted… The perfect… Son.”

Weeping could be heard as a pair of headlights flashed, illuminating the dark room. By this time, my forces had reached our garage and were standing in the doorway.

The disturbed voice of Ms. Bryant continued, “If I cannot have Brutus, no one can! This new tank is UNSTOPPABLE! You swine will pay!”

The tank spat a few piercing rounds into the crowd of equine, scattering them like ants. Eyes growing wide, I braced myself in the path of those deadly treads. I knew what I had to do.
Before my eyes, all of my positive experiences flooded back into my brain. The cookie from Beaker, the calendar and pillow, my first real encounter with Grit, holding Fluttershy’s hoof that one night I dared not tell anyone about, the lecture on love and heroism, my scouting with Rainbow, Breadstuffing, smoothies, the meals, the friends…

I began to cry. “Go! I’ll deal with Bryant!”

The tank rolled forward, turret pointing at me, hesitating to shoot at the source of its rage.

“C’mon, son! That is a direct order from your superior!” Grit shouted, grabbing my shoulder, attempting to drag me away.

“Grit. This tank will hunt us down, killing us all if I don’t confront my daemon. Let me do this, dad.”

After a slight pause, he shook his head and galloped away without another word. His Stetson hat fell off his head and landed before my fore hooves.

But what if I fail? They’ll die anyway! A battle raged in my head. I set my resolve, nodding. I have to try. Be a hero, for Grit, if for no one else.

“Bryant.” I steeled myself, snorting. “You’re sad, and confused. Please, don’t do this.”

I coughed up blood, spitting it onto the floor. I sincerely hoped there was enough life left in me to do this. “Your attempts to create the perfect child have ended up killing me. However, I forgive you. I cannot hate you. I cannot let you hurt the ones I love, though. I will stop your bloodshed this day.”

The hatch slowly opened.

Out emerged the unicorn, still wearing her usual lab coat, brown mane flowing from her head in a heap. “I respect you, Brutus. You are a wise stallion. Prepare to die now, for your so called friends.”

Her insanity was obvious by this point. She ducked back into the vehicle as the main cannon began clicking and whirring, loading another salvo of armor piercing rounds.

I nodded slowly. “If it must be this way. I will stop you the only way I know how.”

Huddling against the blanket for warmth, I mustered the last of my energy. Using the memories of my family as a prod, I generated heat deep from within. Not heat for a fireball, however.
I closed the blast doors, beginning to produce warmth. I watched the thermometer hanging from an interior window as it quickly shattered past 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
My body began literally burning up. While Bryant’s tank felt nothing, the building did. The drab gray steel glowed red with the sheer intensity of the heat I was creating. Bryant opened the hatch once again attempting to escape what she now realized was a death trap.

Unable to stand due to sheer exhaustion, I staggered to the floor, muttering, “I love you, Grit…”

Finale

“Where’s Quicksilver, Grit?” Twilight asked me as I galloped towards her.

“He wanted to stay, and I couldn’t convince him ta come with us.” I sighed, leading my boys back to the APC as fast as I could.

I could faintly hear the blast doors of the garage the kid and I had occupied a moment ago closing. We reached the carrier. Turning back, we all waited, hoping to see the gray colt follow us out, preferably without a tank at his heels.

“Hey, Grit. Isn’t that building turnin’ red?” Foaler asked me, pointing to the garage. My eyes widened as, with a loud crash, that same building collapsed into a heap of superheated metal.

I lowered my head, understanding what had happened. “Get in the car.”

“What’s wrong, Grit? Where’s Quicksilver?” Beerwarmer inquired of me.

“He gave his life to collapse that building, burying Bryant.” I began weeping openly now, anger burning inside me at nothing in particular. “NOW GET IN THE BUCKING CAR!”

I hopped into the drivers side seat, watching through the mirror as everypony piled in. We drove through mud as heavy rain began to fall, imitating our mood perfectly.

***

Over the next week, we traveled from town to town, carrying food and supplies, assisting the reconstruction effort however we could. There was to be a celebration of our victory in Castle Canterlot, but my heart wasn’t in it. Barley kept telling me to come with them; that’d it’d be a good distraction.
Her being the fox that she was, I couldn’t resist. Finally, the night of the celebratory ball came. We piled out of the APC, taking the V.I.P. parking space closest to the keep. Huddling close, my boys and I strode into the ballroom. A full orchestra was playing. General Octavia led the strings section.
Sprightly tunes wafted into the banquet hall as we took our seats, marveling at the delicious spread.
The banquet hall was amazing. The ceiling rose 20 feet tall. The hall was adorned with gold streamers and banners extolling our work.

“Enjoy, heroes. You certainly deserve it.” The Princess Celestia announced to us, emerging from a back room, taking a spot at the head of the table.

I chuckled to myself at the irony, we’re not heroes, we left one of our own there to die.

She waved us off when we attempted to bow. “No need. We are friends tonight, no?”

We all nodded nervously. Beerwarmer, no invitation needed, swiped a marrow off one of the larger platters with a gusto that was surprising even to us.

Speaking with his mouth full, he said, “Ah hafen’ eatin’ proper in dayshe!”

The others laughed nervously. I heaved a frustrated sigh. The kid just wouldn’t leave my head.
Excusing myself, I walked out of the banquet hall towards the bar in the corner of the ballroom. I spent the next 2 hours with my muzzle in an ever-filling pint, depressed. After a time, Harvest Barley excused herself and joined me at the bar. She sat in silence, watching the amber liquid of Buck Daniels slide down my throat. She ran her hoof over the glossy countertop, contemplating.

She opened her muzzle to speak. “Grit, after all these years, you’ve never gotten drunk. Why start now?”

“Barley, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me, I’m 10 years your senior.”

I sighed, looking away. “I… left one of my men at the lab. Not just anyone though, as if that wasn’t bad enough. I left the kid. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a son. I left him there to get ripped apart by a tank.”

She nodded slowly. “Grit. A wise pony once told me that time, for the most part is changeable. But there are some moments that just HAVE to happen. I firmly believe that this is one of them. Brutus was destined to die at that lab on that day. The only question now is, are you going to praise him for his work or mope about what could’ve been different?”

By this time the banquet had concluded, and ponies were filing in to dance. Suddenly, the strings section went silent as equine throughout the room milled about in confusion. A gentle hoof rested on my shoulder. There was Octavia, her slate gray pelt towering over me as she stood on her back legs. She had her cello in a case.

She was holding a guitar in her forelegs, smiling softly. “I heard you play, Grit. I composed a little something for you.”

She passed the instrument to me, unstrapping her own.

In a louder voice, she addressed the crowd. “We have come here to celebrate a victory today, but we have also lost many. Tonight, I would like to honor a true hero, Quicksilver. During the battle of Gelderland Hill, I had been in command of the Guard. My careless actions earned me this.”

She indicated a furless spot on her abdomen, just above her ribs. “A sniper had managed to shoot me in the gut. I could no longer lead. I assigned the command to our Lieutenant Red Sun, but he was no more capable of command than I was. I had him contact the mysterious militia that’d risen from nowhere to assist. He was to see if they could direct a section of the guard for him. Their commander, one Quicksilver, quickly took the reins, leading our troops with a skill unmatched by anypony who has ever lived. He risked his own life to assist the Guards.”

Somepony in the crowd managed to shout, “Where’s Quicksilver now? We must give him a toast!”

The mob shouted their agreement, glasses raised.

Octavia continued sorrowfully, “Unfortunately, he was slain in the final battle. He gave his life to save his friends from what our spies’ reports call a ‘metal daemon’.”
The crowd quieted, heads all around lowering.
Overcome with emotion, I picked up the guitar, strumming my feelings. The pianist and woodwind sections both joined in soon after. Dulcet tones wafted from the strings as a gentle pattering of rain fell on the roof, splattering the windows.

After I had finished, the room echoed with silence.
The diarchy, that is, the Princesses, sat beside me.

Celestia was the first to speak. “I could erase your memory of him. You’d never have to know he ever existed.”

Luna nodded in agreement, clapping my shoulder. It was appealing, I’ll admit.

I finally gathered the nerve to reply. “No. Brutus will have wanted us ta remember all the good times we had with him. He had a short life, but it was a fulfilling one. Erasin’ his memory would be doin’ him a disservice.”

I got up, slinging the guitar across my back, trotting out from the room through the massive front doors.
I whispered, softly, the drizzle tapping on my hide,

“I love you too, son.”

-Fin