Close Bonds: Chapter Sixteen

You’re having a dream. You’re sure of it. Unless this is the happiest family reunion you’ve ever had…

No, this is a dream. You recall this memory. A day you were so bored, you started shooting random things on Grandpa’s land, with your brother.

…Except, Rainbow’s here.

It’s your brother’s turn to shoot the 12-gauge. He takes his time aiming down the sights, then quickly pulls the trigger.

BLAM!

“Dammit, I missed it,” he says. He looks at you, remembering that you were taking turns on the gun. He takes his finger off the trigger, points the muzzle towards the ground, and holds it out to you.

You walk up to him, making sure to grab it somewhere on the wood and not the possibly hot barrel. Taking it, you remember a few things about the weapon; the gun in itself is pretty heavy, but the weight helps with the recoil a bit. It’s an old gun; you’re not sure how old, but it’s old enough to be your grandpa’s. Which is saying something.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna shoot it?” Rainbow asks, sounding annoyed. You look back at her to give her a scowl, shaking your head. Your subconscious has her personality down.

You turn back to your target: a wild pumpkin. You raise the gun, getting the wooden stock nice and snug against your shoulder, then lean slightly forward. You pump; click-click goes the chamber, and the gun spits out a plastic shell.

Locked and loaded.

Something you realize, right now, is that you’re completely unsteady. The sights jump back in forth with every breath you take, as well as with the shakiness you fight in your hands.

Small, deliberate breaths. Calm yourself.

The shakiness in your hands soon tapers off a bit, but the barrel still rocks back and forth.

“When you’re aimin’ at a target far away, ya gotta hold your breath sometimes, ” your grandpa told you, when he and your dad were teaching you and your brother to shoot. “But remember: never hold your breath until you’ve found your target. ‘Cause when you’re done out of air, ya shake even worse. And that jus’ makes you look like a danged fool!”

He immediately burst into laughter after saying that. The rest of you just awkwardly watched him until he finally calmed down.

Damn, if you don’t miss him.

“What’s taking so long?” Rainbow yells again. “I wanna get my turn!”

You don’t answer, simply line up your sights with a pumpkin your brother threw out on the ‘range’. You take a deep breath, then hold it.

BLAM! The gun rocks you, but you manage to hold the stock tight enough against you to avoid getting kicked. You watch the pumpkin off in the distance blow to pieces, the sound of shattering glass ringing over the thunder of the shotgun.

Both of your companions cheer for you. You, however, are quite confused. You know you’re dreaming, but that’s not the sound a pumpkin is supposed to make. Even more peculiar is that you’re not even sure that sound came from your dream.

Slowly, the world around you fades as you feel a frantic tugging at your arm…

“Ivan… Ivan, wake up. I think someone broke in.”

You open your eyes groggily. “Huh?”

“I heard glass breaking. Like a window or something. You didn’t hear that?”

You sit up, watching her curiously. Her eyes are wide, worried-looking. Her ears constantly perk up, and she keeps looking around.

“Yeah, maybe, I dunno… Are you sure it wasn’t somethin’ from outside, or somethin’?”

You hear a thud from somewhere within the house.

That’s all you need to wake you up. You reach under the bed, hands fumbling around for the nearest weapon.

You feel something cloth-like, and pull it out from under the bed. Smiling when you see it, you grasp the handle of Applebloom’s present and slip it out of its sheathe.

For your birthday, Applebloom gave you a sword. A hoof-crafted sword, forged with iron heated and reheated again; or so she told you. The design is similar to a katana, with special consideration for the rounded handle so it would fit comfortably in the hands of someone who, well, had hands. The thing is light, sharp, and has excellent balance; not too heavy in the front, but enough to make it dangerous.

Applejack didn’t quite agree with her younger sister’s choice in gifts, but you congratulated Applebloom on her expert crafts’mare’ship.

Coming back to the present, you look to Rainbow. She’s taken the hitting stick as her choice weapon, hovering in the air and wielding the metal pole in her hooves like a club.

Good girl.

You make your way forward, onwards to the door. With one hand, you signal to her to go left, while you plan on taking the right. She nods her head in understanding.

Slowly, you turn the knob. The door starts to open…

Creeeeeak…

That sound is akin to nails on a chalkboard, so you quickly swing the thing open. Both of you jump out into the hallway, poised and ready for an attack.

Nothing so far. You look at her, and she nods. Slowly, the two of you make your way down the hallway, eyes set on the passage that leads into the living room.

Further inspection shows that this room is clear. However, the cold air blasting in through the window and the moonlight reflecting off of the hundreds of shards of glass buried in the rug are clear evidence of a break-in.

Or, maybe somepony decided to throw something through your window. It’s really a bit far-fetched, but you approach the mess, just to make sure.

You feel a set of eyes burn into you as you bend over to inspect the glass. You signal to the mare behind you to stay on guard, then set down your blade and continue looking.

A little way into the inspection, your eyes detect something dark by the couch. A small lump, rigidly contrasting against the dirty white of your rug. Being careful to avoid the glass, you pick it up.

A rock. Of course.

You raise the blunt object into the air for Rainbow to see. She notices you in her peripheral vision, and moves to turn her head.

She squints, trying to distinguish what it is you’re holding. You see her eyes widen in realization.

And suddenly they disappear.

A loud whump! sounds off as another, larger figure hops on top of her and pins her down. The blue mare cries out and swears, her voice followed by the sounds of struggling on the ground.

Your heart jumps in your chest. You run towards the two, intent on prying the intruder off of Rainbow…

…and beating the shit out of whoever this is. As the shock subsides, you begin to realize that you don’t care if it was Twilight that broke into your house. The only thing on your mind is one universal law…

Nobody. Touches. Rainbow. Whether it be you, or the pony in question who enforces it.

A flare of pain slices into the sole of your foot, sending a jolt up your leg and causing you to fall. You manage to catch yourself on the edge of couch, realizing that you’re barefoot amidst a sea of broken glass.

You can feel something stuck in your foot, and consider trying to pull it out first. But that thought quickly shrivels up when you hear Rainbow cry out.

You snap your head up. The two silhouettes are on the ground, mostly one amorphous blob to you, except for a wing sticking out, and a hoof on top of it.

A loud crack pierces the air.

Rainbow cries out again, much louder this time. To your horror, the wing is now bent at an odd angle.

As the implications of what just happened set in, you cease to think. You no longer care about the burning in your foot; you can literally feel the shard of glass wedging itself further in, but it’s nothing more than a distraction at this point. The glint of Applebloom’s present catches your eye, and in your rage-induced frenzy, you snatch it up.

It’s a miracle that you don’t step on any more glass, but it never crosses your mind. As you come closer, the blob gains features, becoming two more recognizable figures. One frantically squirms underneath and tries hitting the other slightly bigger one, which you can tell at this point has to be a stallion. This sick guy has his hoof on Rainbow’s chest, pinning her down and continuing to bend the disfigured wing even further. At this point, your brain is running on pure adrenaline. You step forward, and take a swing with the sword.

The pegasus on top immediately drops to the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs. You bring your sword up over your head, not paying attention to the blood dripping off the blade. You fully intend on finishing the job, but realize that there’s something more important.

Rainbow drags herself across the rug, whimpering like an injured puppy. Her wing sticks up haphazardly, erect until a point near the tip where it bends abnormally.

Your stomach twists at the sight. You set down your weapon, then immediately rush over to where your marefriend is lying.

“Don’t touch it!” she half hisses, half shrieks. You slow your approach, kneeling down in front of her.

She backs away at first. “I said, don’t touch me!”

You ignore her, instead reaching out for her wing with your hands. She doesn’t try to escape, but stays still as you run your fingers through her matted, blood-soaked inner feathers.

“It hurts. A lot,” she laments, holding back tears. You’re about to say something, but see her eyes shoot towards something behind you. You turn around to see the burglar struggling to pick himself up.

Your anger returns. You get up, walking over to stand over him. He sees your feet, then lifts his head until he’s looking at you in the face. From his eyes alone, you can detect fear; and a mutual sense of hate for one another.

You pick your foot up, then slam your heel into his head. He lets out a groan, and you do it again, and again, and again, until your foot starts to hurt and he’s completely still. A thought crossing your head, you clap two times.

The lights come on, initially blinding you. But it’s not long before you’re able to see again, finally getting the satisfaction of getting to know just who the hell broke into your house.

Holy shit. Your eyes go wide, and your jaw drops. Rainbow’s recovered from the brightness as well, and notices your expression. “What? Who is it?” she asks, her voice cracking midsentence.

Half a severed limb lays limp on the rug. The other half, now a stub leaking blood, is attached to the body of a face you know all too well these days.

“This… This is Scootaloo’s dad.”

Author's Note

Misleading titles are misleading.

But, it was coming. Don't you remember that threat Scoot's dad made?

Once again, thanks go to my editor, hwrogers.