Fallen

I sat in my new paddock, listlessly. Nowadays, I just existed in that small space, among the dried grass antithetical to my very nature. My imaginary wings twinged more and more each day. I really don’t know what’s my body’s problem. If losing one’s wings were insult enough, I saw no reason for this madness. To make matters worse, my body thinned depressingly, poisoned by the nature of Earth. My ribs were clear as day, and my joints swelled out from my emaciated legs.
My pit of depression was gone. I no longer felt sad about my plight, but I could never again feel truly happy, either. The only emotion I really felt was gratitude to Dr. Placard, for showing me the spark of light within the thickest of blackness.
As we predicted, he did suffer serious consequences. From researchers who came to my pen to take samples from me, or just to go outside to smoke near my paddock, I heard that Placard had been questioned for his conduct, then, when he failed to offer any explanation that satisfied the directors, he was stripped of his authority, then euthanized.
I mourned my friend’s death, the only man here who gave his life for a lost soul, wandering in a foreign, adversary land, even though that soul had nothing to give him in return. I knew now, that humans can’t be all bad. There is still some goodness in them, even though it’s rather hard to find.
I was interrupted in my thoughts by a clash coming from the buildings nearby. A loud roar cut through the air, and glass shattered somewhere. Screams echoed about the buildings, and I pricked my ears up.
I saw Wither, stuck mid-morph between a human and a bird, shoot through a wall and come stumbling toward my paddock. “Gah! Help me! SCP-106 is after me!” he screamed.
I looked back toward the building and saw the walls turn brown and corroded, like advanced rusting.
“I’m outta here, because there isn’t enough time to talk! So long, sucker!” Wither cried, and gathered his energy about him. But it fizzled out before anything happened, and he gawked at this feathery hands in shock.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” He frantically tried again and failed, then began to hyperventilate. “The SCP drained my powers!”
I look at him condescendingly. “Yeah, right. You told me yourself that magic doesn’t affect you.”
“Yeah, but by that I meant the natural magic tied to the world you live in. For alicorns and unicorns, that means the magic of Equestria. See, as a reality-bender, I call the shots when it comes to how the laws work. Some unicorn uses his magic on me? I just change the laws so that magic either can’t manifest, or manifests in a way that turns on the wielder unexpectedly.
“This is different. This is another reality bender. Its powers are in the same category as mine, only more focused on corruption rather than travel and physics manipulation. Therefore, offensively SCP-106 is more powerful. Look!” He turned around, revealing a nasty-looking corrosion on his hindquarters. “The damage the SCP did damaged me physically, but also corroded my powers. I’ve lost most of them!”
With a crack, the now completely rusted wall began to fracture. Humans in white lab coats and orange jumpsuits sprang into action, aiming guns at the widening crack.
I remembered how Wither had screwed me over, time and again. He messed with my life, messed with our lives, just for the sake of his own enjoyment. He’s nothing more than a bully, just like the bullies at Flight School, or the humans who threw stones at the bronies. I turned up my nose and turned away, as the phantom pain lanced through my wings.. Let him die. If the SCP eventually gets him, then good. I don’t care if it gets me too. I’ve got nothing else to live for.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Wither slouching in defeat, a strange lost look in his eyes. I never saw him like that before.
It was like looking in a mirror. Wither lost the thing that truly defined him. His powers. Just like how I lost my wings. He didn’t know what to do, totally helpless like he was. Just like me.
Somehow my reluctance to step in to help seemed to be dwarfed by the situation. What if I just ignored him? Past wounds aside, if I didn’t step in now, I would be–
I would be just like those who just stood by when I was bullied in Flight School. Or those Foundation members who viewed me as an animal while I suffered.
Pity washed over me as I beheld the poor distorted creature cowering on the dead grass.
I heaved myself to my feat, gazing in sadness at my emaciated state, coming from months of living on a world poisonous to me. Nevertheless, I must try. Try not to become the very thing I had raged against all these years.
“Get up! On my back!” I ordered Wither. He looked up sharply, shocked. I guess as an all-powerful reality bender, he’s not used to taking orders from mere mortals. Well, tough. He’s not all-powerful anymore.
I glance nervously at the wall, as with a gut-wrenching tear, part of the façade fell away, revealing the demonic grin of a skeletal old man, skin dark as liver. The squad of humans open-fired, but it only laughed as the bullets tore through its skin, with no effect on its determination.
Wither still sat there, shocked at my display, but then shook his head. He summoned some minimal power and levitated himself onto my back.
“I’ll use my last remaining strength to support us. I don’t think your strength is enough,” he said.
I felt a thrill of force as Wither concentrated. My body instantly felt lighter, and as I summoned up my remaining strength I found myself galloping towards the fence of the paddock. With aching muscles I launched myself into the air, clearing it.
I ran. I ran like I’d never run before. Looking back behind me, I saw the SCP in hot pursuit. It had ungodly strength for its frail appearance.
“I thought the report said that it was lethargic!” Wither said from my back, with the lapse of concentration, I felt my limbs start to drag on me.
“Concentrate!” I shouted.
I felt my weight lessen as Wither once again applied his power.
As I give it my all, I heard the SCP scream in rage as his quarry began to escape. It doubled its efforts, beginning to gain on us. With its inhuman stamina and my weakened state, it approached us.
“I think I can manage to build up enough strength to teleport us to the other side of the facility. I read in the report that the personnel can detain it by using traps and live bait. I think that may be enough for us to escape it.” Wither shouted into my ear. I nodded.
My body instantly became vastly heavier. My limbs dragged at me, and I struggled to draw breath. I don’t care if Wither just lied to me. Again. It doesn’t matter. I’m still dead. Even if I live I’m still dead. Grounded. Flightless. None of it matters anymore.
Drawing my last resources of strength, I strained my muscles to gallop in earnest. For a few seconds, I thought that, despite Wither’s levitation leaving me, I might still make it. I might still escape this thing.
But no. My stamina gave out. Foam sprayed from my mouth as I moan in despair. The SCP screeched in victory as its rotting fingers reached toward my flank. Two inches. One inch…