//------------------------------// // 1 - A regular day // Story: The Legend of the Elements of Power // by Random Gamer //------------------------------// "Please be sunday... " I yawned as I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock. It was another of those days when you wake up tired even though you obviously slept more than eight hours. My hooves slightly spasmed, as if not warning me to get up, which I did anyway. Taking a gander at the calendar, I found out it was monday and let out a sigh. After briefly lamenting my long shift and running my hoof through my messy mane, I walked out of the room and headed into the bathroom, intending to take a shower. Some may think for a stallion, I should keep an eye out for my looks but no, I don't do that. I kinda live by the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover'. I intentionally left myself with the most basic look so that others could pay attention to my actions, not my looks. Keeping both my tail and mane ungroomed, as usual, I went into the kitchen and had breakfast. I wasn't the best cook there was, but I preffered eating something that I cooked by myself, rather than paying for a pie of questionable content or wait hungry in a restaurant. Full of energy, I put on my doctor's coat and went to work. As a graduate of Manehattan's High School of Medicine, I work as a surgeon at the Ponyville clinic, solving cases both small and big. They range from hooves impaled by fishing hooks or broken bones to the much more severe - gun wounds. Ever since Mr. Colt and Hooveson invented gunpowder and weaponry to make use of it, ponies with those wounds started appearing at the hospital. I can't judge their inventions since guns were a by-product of them and were not what they were hoping for, but I have to say the world and most notably Equestria, would be better off without them. They might have brought a revolutionary innovation into the military but from my view of a doctor, they also brought new, drastic ways of how one's life can be ended. Smaller, handle-shaped ones can only be bough after waiting three months and taking numerous tests, while the bigger ones are available exclusivily to the Royal Guard and aforementioned military. For a kingdom so rich, I expected them to focus more on trade, rather than on security. Keeping my thoughs to myself, I greeted my fellow colleagues and bought them coffee. They thanked me and told me about a few events that happened during the weekend, boasting about how much fun they had. Since I had nothing interesting to say, I signed myself for duty and waited for patients to arrive at the hospital. While other mondays always had a few ponies carried to the clinic for intensive care, this one seemed silent and as hours passed by, I was to think that for once, ponies paid attention and not injured themselves during the weekend. Just when I though of how great this day would be, two soldiers showed up to prove me wrong. The first soldier was carrying his superior and by the way they they walked, it was apparent his superior was not at all happy about it. He kept sliding his hooves along the floor in an attempt to stop him, but the private kept doing what he though was right for his general and kept walking towards me. As they came to a halt, the general let out a bloody cough. "What are you looking at, greyface?!" shouted the private at the top of his lungs, barely being able to hold the general's weight. "Can't you see this is an emergency?" The general let out a painful moan and his hooves started to go numb. Inspecting him, I found a set of gun wounds on his back, some of them rather deep. Judging by the blood dripping from his mouth, one or both of his lungs were hit and if what I though was true, he must have lost a lot of blood getting to the hospital. "I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down and not insult the personal of this clinic." I stated steadfastly, keeping a stone face. "Secondly, I'm going to need you to carry your teammate to the operation hall and explain what exactly has happened." The private groaned angrily and carried his wounded superior into the the operation hall, under my guidance. However, instead of doing like I told him, the private just put his colleague on the operation table and then left without a single word. I have little to no interest in military but was hoping his inferior had at least some respect and stayed with his injured general. The nurses in the room quickly prepared all the neccessary tools, most notably various anaesthetics and scalpels. With my help, we slowly turned the general so that his back would be facing us and begun giving him various medication. First, we opened his vest up with surgical scissors and then gave him a dose of strong anesthetics. When I heard him exhale and saw his heart rate slow down, we were on the right track to continued with the operation. One of the nurses handed me a bottle of clinical alcohol and I used it to clean the wound up. Instead of seeing the regular hole left by a bullet, there were many, many small ones as well as big ones. I was shocked as I had never seen a wound like that but decided to continue with the operation anyway. I took my pliers from the nearby table with the intention to take the small bullets out but something unexpected happened. The screen showing his heart rate let out an alarming sound and the numbers quickly jumped to those of an awoken pony. His front left hoove slightly moved and shortly after, his whole body did as well, as if insisting to stay awake. I quickly gave him another dose of anaethetics but they were of no apparent use, as his hooves started flailing around frantically, knocking some of the nearby equipment. "I... don't need... help..." uttered the general, intending to stand up. A nurse's hooves starting shaking, her irises shrank to the size of a pebble and with a loud cry, she ran outside of the operation hall, proclaiming this place a madhouse. Truth be told, she was new to the clinic and unlike me, wasn't used to seeing various out of the ordinary medical situations. I looked at the other mare and was given an unsure look, as if she was asking me a yes-or-no question. Holding the general pinned to the table with my hooves, I nodded and the nurse took out leather braces out of one of the shelves. Rarily used, they were the equivalent of fighting fire with fire and thus, were the last resort of any surgeon. "Let me go!" shouted the stallion, still desperately trying to escape. Unfortunately, his attempts were so desperate, that instead of letting us treat his wound and use braces as a replacement for anaesthetics, he punched my assistant while she was attaching the second brace and with just a single punch, managed to bring her down to the ground, as well as break her nose. I gasped at the sight, unable to believe that one of my patients just did that. At this point, any normal doctor had two choices - call in more doctors or do something regretful, such as using violence. Instead of any of the two variants, I did something no other doctor would have done - listen to his patient. I loosened his brace, letting him thrash around and fall from the operation table. "Feeling better?" I asked, kneeling down to him. "You've just punched one of my colleagues while we were performing a delicate operation. An operation that would help you." The general tried to stand up but failed once more. His hooves were againts his every command and appeared to be at war, constantly putting one another in their way. "I didn't ask for any help." he uttered, still desperately trying to get up. "Private Jenkins hauled me here againts my command." The nurse slowly got up and left the hall without a single word, possibly to get her nose fixed. Unlike stallions, they couldn't stand having an imperfection or wound on their face. One of my colleagues doesn't even have a nose, so to speak. He's the janitor, though. "As a doctor, I can't let you walk around with holes in your back." I said, standing up to prepare more anaesthetic doses. "Please get back on the operation table." I watched in humor as the general finally stabilized his chicken hooves and stood upright. "And I, as a general of the Royal Army," uttered the general, making a movement similiar to skating to reach the door. "tell you that I'm fine." As expected, he fell facefirst to the ground, barely moving from his position. In the meantime, I was preparing an extra-heavy dose of anaesthetics, powerful enough to put down a stallion for half a day. "You probably don't feel anything now," I objected, helping the general up. "but once the lead from the pellets gets into your bloodstream, sooner or later, you'll die of lead poisoning." I let that sink and added. "And believe me, unlike other poisons, dying from lead poisoning is very, very painful. Patients who almost died from it, said that they felt their skin trying to peel itself from their muscles and their blood boiling. And those are just the reported symptoms." "Big bucking deal..." objected the general, still intending to leave the clinic untreated. "I'll sew my skin together and drink cold water. If it's a risk, it's a risk I'm gonna freakin' take." I sighed, seeing the general was one of those brave patriots who would rather die than to have their wounds healed. They all end up broken stallions, with bodies and mind scarred and in their hearts nothing but pain and hate. But he was still my patient and since I didn't want him to die, I had to play a few notes on those strings. "What would Celestia say of a soldier," I said in an official-sounding tone, gesticulating. "who, instead of continuing to fight for justice, died because of his own pride and unwillingness to have his wounds treated? Would she still honor him as the others who valiantly fought againts evil and died heroes, among their friends?" The general was speechless and stared at me, mouth agape. He tried saying a few words but none of them got through. Unable to find anything wrong with what I just said, he sighed, his patriotism defeated. "I don't say this often," he said in a somewhat sad tone. "but you're right. She wouldn't honor that soldier and instead, call him a failure, forever to be forgotten as just another brick in the wall." The general slowly got up and instead of heading for the door, went for the operation table and with my help, laid back on it. "It's not a shame for a soldier to admit being hurt." I said, taking the syringe of anaesthics, ready to use it. "One wound won't end your career." I was about to give him the dose but grabbed the hoove I had it in, making me drop it. "Don't bother with that stuff." he explained. "I'm resistantant to it." Since he insisted and even assured of his resistance to anaesthetics, I picked up the syringe, put it on the nearby table and offered him a small wooden stick. Since I assumed he wouldn't want his screams of pain to be heard all around the clinic, I though he accept this alternative and bite into it to ease the pain. "Nah, just please get over with it." he said, wishing to be operated without any painkiller. Not questioning his decision, I took my bottle of clinical alcohol, prongs and begun. It went suprisingly well and to even more to my suprise, the general didn't let out a single sound. Not even the stitching made him uneasy and instead, he kept a stone face for the whole time of the operation. Bandaging his back, I was proud of myself and was glad that it went so smoothly. "Appreciate it, doc." said the general and stood up from the operation table, his hooves firmly under his command. "I owe you one." "Please, call me Richard." I said with a small smile. "If the 'one' is beer, I think I'll pass." Beer was one of my old friends but was allowed only on after-shift friday and saturday. The rest of the days sadly required me to be at my top condition, not tolerating any kind of mistakes. "Richard, eh?" he asked. "My name's Shadow Flamehoof. Thanks for making my holiday less about having a bullet-ridden back and more about more doing what I like. You sure you don't drink beer?" Well, at least someone's holiday was nice. Last time I was on one, all of my colleagues kept posting me mail, not giving me the slightest pinch of rest. Yet, when I asked one of them for help when they were on a holiday, he told the mailstallion or mailmare to not give him my mail and even paid them for not delivering it. "Only on after-shift fridays and saturdays." I replied sadly. "As much as I would like to get drunk on other days, I can't. These guys need me at my best or they'll freak out. And if none of them do, my boss would fire me." Four more days. Four more days and I'll have a big, cherry-flavoured beer, just like the ones they used to make in Manehattan. "Oh... So if you don't plan on getting drunk," said Flamehoof, pointing at the door. "can you at least have a bet with me?" Well, I didn't spend much and had a considerable amount in savings. Why not? "Sure." I answered. "As long as you have bits." I had no idea how much were generals or other soldiers earning, but it must have been a lot, lot more than just a doctor like me. He slowly opened the door and a nurse was standing outside, the same one he punched but with her nose fixed. She didn't seem very happy about seeing any of us. "See that nurse over there?" Flamehoof pointed his hoove at her, ignoring that she could hear and see him. "What do you want with Nurse Redheart?" I asked him, wandering what sort of sinister plan he had in mind. The nurse just shook her head and went about her own business, walking to the other part of the hallways she was on. "A hundred bits that I'll get into bed with her." said Flamehoof daringly. This is not the kind of bet I was hoping for, but to at least make it less certain for the unfortunate mare, I though of something. "I bet a thousand that you won't." I objected, knowing someone as noble as Nurse Redheart wouldn't lay with someone she barely knows. "Deal. Meet me at the pub tonight." Flamehoof shaked his hoof with me and went to try his luck. Not paying attention to his little romance attempt, I continued with my shift only to see them leave together. Well, guess I should get those bits...