“Graves, if I could have a word with you, son.” I looked up from my desk to see General Storm Wing looking at me.

“Sorry sir, but I really need to finish up this paperwork from the last mission.” I responded, absently waving a hoof at the papers scattered about in front of me as I returned to my work.

“More complaints, lieutenant?” he asked. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I took a quick glance at the General. He was wearing his usual dark green military button down, accompanied by all of his commendations and medals. He was still rather fit for his age, having just turned sixty, but his body couldn’t lie. He was turning grey, and had been for as long as I’d known him, but now his transformation was almost complete. Some spots of his light cerulean coat still shone through, but most of his dark green mane and tail were consumed.

“Not quite, sir. Just some forms for transfers, a few interview requests which I will have to politely decline, and a report from that last recon mission.” I said, looking Storm in the eye. “As you can see, sir, I am really busy right now. Maybe another time.”

“It wasn’t a request, lieutenant.” He said, pulling up a chair and sitting at the other side of my desk. “All you’ve done is work, work, and work Graves. Now, I don’t normally argue with efficiency, but this is extreme.” He leaned in a bit closer, placing a hoof on one of my shoulders. “The war’s over, son. You can stop fighting now.” He whispered. As much as I hated to admit it, the old Pegasus was almost more of a father than my own, but that didn’t change the fact he had no idea what he was talking about.

“With all due respect sir,” I began as I brushed his hoof aside. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Look, the war’s been over for five years now Graves. Whatever happened before that is over, and you can go home now.” I shook my head and snorted slightly. “You’ve been working since you got that promotion. All it’s been with you since then is paperwork, scouting and cleaning up the occasional pocket of resistance.” It was at this point in his rambling my focus shifted towards his shadow. It didn’t seem to belong, and yet it was there, split into three or four varying sizes and shapes of the general himself, mirroring his movements. It almost seemed like it was

“Lieutenant, are you listening to me?” I shook my head, clearing my previous thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?” I replied, having not heard a single thing he’d said.

“You don’t look so good, kid, when was the last time you slept?” He asked, and I had to rack my brain to find an answer.

“About…… four days ago, give or take a few hours, sir.”

“Should’ve figured.” He said, shaking his head in what I could tell was disappointment. “Go home. You need to get some rest, or you’ll drop dead before you can do even more paperwork.” He had a point, and I was forced to concede.

“Fine.” I said, gathering what things I could think of. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, bright and early.” I grumbled as I threw my belongings in my saddlebags and trotting out the door.

It was a rainy afternoon in Canterlot, and the sun was just beginning to set, making the scene gloomier then it already was. However, I didn’t mind the dark. Where others saw something to fear, I saw an advantage, something that could be used and manipulated. I adjusted my bags and my uniform as I walked away from the main offices, where all the officers had been stationed for the past five years doing paperwork. I didn’t like paperwork, but it was my job, so I did it as thoroughly and efficiently as I could, despite the maddening effect it seemed to have.

I lived a short way from there, so the walk wasn’t an issue, and I’d dealt with worse things than a bit of rain, but ever since the war, the general public sickened me. It was astonishing how quickly they forgot how mares and stallions, such as myself, were willing to lay down everything for them and their safety, their freedom. It seemed like just yesterday, the war was raging, ponies were buying war bonds, sending us a few things to get us through the days and nights, but now they could care less.

The walk home seemed to take forever, my uniform earning me a few sideways glances from various ponies, mostly hippies. Nopony seemed to know, or much care, just what we’d seen and done on their behalf. I would be more than willing to show them, to draft every son of a bitch who dared to say that what we were doing was wrong, that it was an abomination, like we didn’t know just how terrible a thing it was to take a life, like it wasn’t Princess Celestia herself, the very “goddess” they said would condemn us to the pits of tartarus, not only gave the orders that we followed, but sanctioned the brass to complete the mission ‘by any means necessary’ when we were getting pushed back.

Of course, the hippies who hounded me, spit on me, and called me a foal killer, would never understand that. All they cared about were the news broadcasts that showed dying soldiers being carried away on stretchers and villages being burnt to ash, either by magic or aerial bombardment.

And yet, our dear, dear princess would do nothing. Nothing to appease the ponies who cried foul, or to keep those who came home more scarred than others from breaking down. ‘Shell shock’ they called it. I just called it not being able to handle your shit, to understand the purpose of your actions.

My house wasn’t home, not by a long shot, but it had a bed I could sleep in, so it was something. It was dirty and rundown from months of neglect; paint peeling from the walls, a few leaks in the ceiling, and more than one hole in the wall from days I’d rather forget. There were still the remains of a shattered bottle in the kitchen, and the shards of glass crunched under my boots as I walked in and closed and locked the door behind me. It was dark, but that was the way I liked it these days.

Celestia, the supposed princess of the sun, and light, and all that happy shit, had abandoned me a few years beforehoof, so I never went out in the day if I could help it. I wasn’t really a social pony to begin with, my upbringing having beaten that out of me, both literally and figuratively.

I trotted slowly to my living room, keeping my head down to avoid the many things I couldn’t stand to look at in my own house. Mirrors, certain pictures, things like that. I plopped down on my couch and glanced at my phone. I never used it, so I had little understanding of why I even still had it. Nopony really called me these days, anyway. My parents used to call my at least once a week, but I hadn’t heard from them in over a year so I assumed they’d passed away somehow, sometime. The only other calls I got were for work, but they usually sent letters, so my phone simply collected dust. My television, on the other hoof, was one of the most used things in my house. That day, just like every other day I’d gone home, I turned it on to watch the news; see what was going on outside my little piece of hell.

“Well fillies and gentlecolts, today is the fifth anniversary of the end of the war with th-“

“Hello Equestria, I’m Steven Coltbert, and this is the Coltbert report. In today’s news, did somebody get murdered next to me, or is Princess Luna having sex again? The bear population seems to be decreasing, though the population of owl-necked bears is increasing. Coincidence? I ask Fluttershy later. And of course, the thing everyone is talking about, five years ago today, we beat the living hell out of-“

It was at that point I turned the television off and tossed the remote away with a sigh. No matter what I did, the war seemed to follow me everywhere. I got back up and walked back to the kitchen, undoing the buttons on my uniform shirt as I did so. I accepted what I did as necessary, down to the last drop of blood, but I still had moments I wanted to forget, and nothing helped with that like Doctor Daniels, the cure all.

I tossed my shirt onto a chair as I walked into my kitchen, revealing my dark brown coat, as well as the many large patches of grey that were forming and the tank top I had been wearing. Upon opening my cabinet, I sighed again and slammed it shut. Every bottle was empty, either due to me drinking it or throwing it. I didn’t have many options. The liquor store was on the other side of town, and there was no way I was walking that far. The stallion who ran the nearby bar was a good sort, though. He’d usually let me leave with a fresh bottle if I spent enough, and he didn’t charge me a whole lot extra for it either. Shame I can’t remember his name.

While the bar was a bit too social for my tastes, I didn’t really have much choice in the matter. I went deeper into my hovel to find a jacket, and maybe a hoodie to keep away the cold and rain, and accidently made eye contact with my reflection in a small mirror. My face was scarred, like many others, and my light cyan mane almost completely covered my dark grey eyes, had it not parted near the middle of my face, the greenish streaks seeming to carve their way through the rest like a plain rising in the middle of the sea. My horn had been slightly cracked, and my right ear torn in half, during the early days of the war, and my left ear still had a tiny piercing to remind me of better days. I looked away sharply, not wanting to dwell on times past, and continued to ransack my house in search of clothes. Finding an old, plain hoodie and my old high school lettercolt jacket, I decided it was good enough and left, slamming the door on my way out.

I wandered around town, trying to find my way to one of the only sanctuaries I had in this city, a place where I could hide in the shadows and the smoke, and drown my worries. But alas, when I reached my destination, I heard the sound of construction machinery, and looked just in time to see my sanctuary tumble in upon itself, to make way for corporate Equestria no doubt. And so my journey continued to find a place to rest my hooves and shed my soul for a while.

A few hours of wandering later, I found myself sitting at my own worst nightmare; a bar in a nightclub. With dubtrot ‘music’ blaring from the speakers that were placed everywhere, and strobe lights flashing, it was enough to send any epileptic into a seizure in three seconds or less. Ponies were cramped together on the dance floor, drugged out of their minds, or like me; propping up the bar, wishing they were somewhere quieter and the drinks were better.

“Hey there big guy.” Came a strained voice over the pounding of the bass, or whatever it is kids call it these days. I looked to my right to see a rainbow maned pegasus mare giving me bedroom eyes. It was clear that she was nowhere near as old as me, likely as drunk as I wished I was, and looking to take something home. “Buy a mare a drink?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes a bit.

“Only if you drink scotch.” I said, waving down the bartender and throwing down some bits. She didn’t seem to mind, and continued to drunkenly get closer and closer to me, basically leaning on my shoulder and laughing at my statement as if it were the best one liner ever said.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked, getting more and more on my nerves every second. I missed my old spot, where no one really spoke unless they knew one another, and the music was good.

“Graves.” I said, trying my best to be heard over the metallic scarping sounds that passed for music. “And you?” I asked, simply out of courtesy, as the barkeep poured our shots. I downed mine quickly, but the pegasus struggled with hers to the point where I had to pour it down her throat for her.

“Thanks.” She said, laughing hysterically. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been smoking dope before she showed up, the way she was carrying on. “Name’s Rainbow Dash, by the way. I work the weather back in, uh, P-Ponyville.” She said, stuttering slightly. “Best flier in Equestria! Don’t let anyone tell you different!” at this point, she reminded me of the pegasi from high school, always boasting about they’re latest tricks, or how they were going to start their own flight team.

“That’s great.” I muttered sarcastically, raising my hoof for another drink. “That’s just great.”

“You’re damn right it is!” she spouted, seemingly indignant from my statement. “And just what do you do, big guy? Huh? Do you do awesome tricks? Can YOU break the, uh… the uh… Shit, what’d that egg-head call it again… Oh, yeah, the sound barrier! Can you break that, huh?” she asked, getting to the proud stage of drunkenness.

“No.” I replied, still waiting on my drink. “No, I can’t do any of that, because I can’t fly. I can, however, make an explosive using nothing but a mason jar, corn meal, water, a power cord and a gas line.” I said, hoping it might shut her up and let her know I wasn’t the kind of stallion that one takes home to meet the folks.

“Whoa….. That’s…. So…. AWESOME!”

Mission; failed.

“Where’d you learn how to do stuff like that?” she asked, adding to my amazement of how quickly this generation forgets.

“Been in the army since the war started.” I said, finally getting my next drink. “Spend twenty years fighting, and five more doing paperwork, you learn a few tricks.” The scotch burned in my throat, though I was used to it by then.

“So you’re a soldier, huh?” came a voice to my left. I didn’t feel like looking at the owner just yet, so I continued to focus on getting more drinks and trying to get the mare to my right to leave me alone.

“Yeah.” I said in response. “Yeah, I’m just a regular soldier colt, home from war.” I muttered, the lights above the bar catching my eye. They seemed to be vibrating, almost shaking due to some unknown force. I squinted slightly at them, wondering just what was causing this anomaly, when I felt something grip my shoulder. I didn’t know who it was, or why, but I didn’t have time to think either. I only had time to act, to kill or be killed, and the next thing I knew I had some gryphon in a headlock, one leg around their throat, and the other keeping their head in my grip.

“Whoa, whoa, just let me go dude, I swear I didn’t mean any of that shit I said about you, honest!” came the female voice, but I hadn’t heard her insults, so they had nothing to do with it.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch beak.” I said, rather calmly considering the situation. “I fought your kind for twenty years, I’ve let you’re damnable race walk the streets of my home for five, and I’ll be damned if I let some fuck-face gryphon touch me ever again, let alone insult me.” By this point, the music had stopped, and everypony was staring at me. But that was fine. I wanted them to see what I did, to hear what I had to say. “I could snap your neck like a twig, you know. All I would have to do is twist it this way and apply some pressure…” I said, cranking her neck ever so slightly to the right.

“Nonononono, sweet ancestors no…” she cried, but I wasn’t done just yet.

“Now class, let’s hear what sound the bitch makes.” I yelled so the entire building could hear me before suddenly tightening my grip and yanking back, producing a strangled squawk from her throat as she tried to inhale and express pain at the same time. At this point, whatever the gryphon equivalent of an ear is was right next to my mouth, so I took the chance to ensure her and her friends would stay away from me. “Now listen here, you beaked little fuck.” I whispered to her. “If I see you, or any of your feathered friends, ever again, I will not hesitate to kill them all, just like I did at Shanxi, do you understand?” I heard a muffled ‘uh-huh’ from my hostage, and I let her go. I didn’t hear anything that was said after that, I simply returned to all fours and walked away, unconcerned with what would happen.

Back at my house, the shadows welcomed me once again, and my blood alcohol level was just high enough for me to accept their invitation, and stumble in. I glanced across the room and saw yet another source of pain for me; a picture in a cracked frame, sitting atop the mantel piece. In it were three smiling faces, one of which was mine. The others belonged to a family I’d lost a long time ago; a wife who left for greener pastures, and took our daughter with her. The very thought of that night made my blood boil and my skin crawl, but the picture brought tears to my eyes, so my emotions were at an impasse. I levitated the photograph over to me, and dropped it into one of my hooves to take a closer look.

I didn’t know why I tortured myself like that, but then I wasn’t quite thinking straight at the time. My breaths came quicker and harder as I stared into the faded eyes in the photo, and I could feel my heart begin to assault my ribcage as I lost myself in the joyous faces that were staring back at me, piercing my very soul. “You fucking whore…” I muttered, feeling the tears begin to form in my eyes. “I gave you everything I had, and you just took it while you lied through your teeth. You took my money, you took my belongings, you took our fucking daughter…” I was growing louder, and my tears had decided to skip the whole ‘gentle stream’ phase and go straight to ‘raging river’. I was sobbing, and there was only thing that came to mind that could stop it. “I hope you FUCKING BURN!” I yelled, throwing the cause of grief as hard as I could. However, due to my inebriated state, my balance was less than average, causing me to trip, fall, and land on a bottle I’d discarded months prior. I could feel the glass crunch under my weight and tear through my clothing, into my skin. Despite how many injuries I’d suffered before, each one still managed to hurt almost as much as the last, and this one caused me to groan in agony as I stood from the bloody pile of jagged, alcohol stained glass. I only managed to stumble a few more steps over before I fell to the ground once again, this time deciding to simply pass out rather than make another attempt to find my bed.
____________________________________________________________________________
Graves……. I heard the voice call to me through the mists, its whisper seeming to come from all sides. Graves……

“Where are you!?” I called back, wandering aimlessly. I could feel cold water beneath my hooves, but I could barely see the ripples my movements made on its surface.

Graves…. I need you…. The voice sounded feminine, that much I could tell, and it was growing louder so I thought I was going in the right direction.

“I’m coming! Just stay where you are, I’ll find you!” I yelled, breaking out into a gallop. I couldn’t see anything in front of my, but I could hear a soft sound. Was it somepony crying? Somepony screaming? I couldn’t tell, but I knew I needed to be there.

HELP ME! The scream tore through my mind like nothing else, but I couldn’t let the pain slow me down. I galloped as fast as my legs could carry me, hoping to find whoever it was. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again all I saw were a pair of deep blue eyes.

Peek-a-boo mother fucker.

Author's Note

I'm a bit rusty, so there may be a few parts that are rough around the edges. I accept criticism and suggestions, so if you have anything to say, lay it on me.