A punching bag suspended by a chain from the ceiling of the workout center jolted back and forth in an unrelenting pounding it had been receiving for well over twenty minutes. Beneath it shifted around a flame-faced grey pegasus, refusing any sort of mercy to the bulky sack, dealing substantial blows only with his forehooves.
Between punches, the golden-eyed pony narrowed on to the target, allowing it to slow its rocking, only to leap again and toss more solid hits against the poor punching bag. All of this done to strengthen his stamina, as well as sharpen his mind.
No other soul occupied the room this late at night. Not even fellow Lunar guards, this proving to be much to Night's alleviation. Quite frankly, in his current state, the final thing he wished to be concerned for were other ponies on the receiving end of his anger.
Fast-paced breaths shot from his nostrils, heart pumping with adrenaline while he exchanged the punching bag for an image of a captured enemy. For a pony much like himself to be against most forms of torture, all mind on his personal beliefs now rested in a shrub outside.
Behind a cloth in his mouth, the figure let out painful muffled screams and cries, all begging for Night to stop. Bruises and cuts dotted the pony's torso from his neck down, all caused by the intense beating the stallion was giving him.
Gradually, the hooves thrown grew harder and stronger, forcing the punching bag backwards further. Its returning swings were countered by more blows, none of which granted the opportunity to strike Night in return, not even lightly.
The chained-up pony whimpered and sobbed, only barely able to gather enough energy to merely wriggle in the steel bindings around his hooves, keeping him in prime position for his captor's tenacious blows directly into his gut.
Oblivious to reality, the louder his captive whined and screeched, the stronger the fierce flame of hatred burned in his chest. Atop the jabbing pain this fire blazed, encumbering any prior emotion altogether.
At last, his hoof, sore from the rapid beating it gave the sack, arced with pain. Night ousted a yelp, one that brought him from the dungeon into the gym. He drew away from the punching bag, eyeballing it as it swayed gently, eventually coming to a halt in mid air.
Night shifted his gaze down to his inflamed limb, resting it in his left hoof while he examined it. He held it against his chest, teeth grit gently as the pain subsided. One final glance was given to the evidently-undamaged leather sack, before he turned away and moved steadily over to a refrigerated vending machine.
Feeding the rectangular machine with a couple of bits, Night pressed one of the buttons with the wrong hoof, wincing again and jerking that arm back. He observed the steel spring within gradually pushing a cold bottle of water near the edge of the shelf—only for it to lean over and become stuck in a leaning position against the glass.
His ears no longer perked, instead lowering just slightly. A soft breath released, steaming up against the glass. Night proceeded to leave the machine, heading back to the gym for another lengthy round on the innocent punching bag.
Except, he was not willing to let the money go to waste. He spun back around and charged the vending machine from the side, practically tackling it to the ground with a loud metallic crash, the window on the front side shattering upon impact across the tiled hallway floor. Inside, the light gradually flickered out. Success.
Hopping down from the now-broken dispenser, he reached a hoof through the former glass pane, plucking out the water bottle the monster of a machine refused to give him.
Night grasped the top of the bottle, pulling up on the cap to open it, then taking a long, soothing gulp of the icy drink, ultimately quenching his thirsty, dry throat.
Having guzzled down half of the bottle in mere seconds, Night pressed the cap shut, moving to step forth but only to pause and lower his hoof. Carefully he examined the puddle of broken glass shards scattered across the floor quite nearly surrounding him. Now he was thankful nopony had been around to witness his outburst on the vending machine.
He flapped his wings lightly, lifting a few inches off of the floor and floating over the sharp pieces safely. With no way of being able to clean up the mess, he would be forced to leave it to the next janitor inspection, thus returning to the boxing-tool room.
Night placed the water bottle on a wood bench, exchanging it for a small white cloth to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead, taking a brief minute to rest and another long drink.
Back on all fours, he strode up to a different bag, this one slightly larger and weighed more than the first. He positioned himself, rearing up on his hinds and springing back his right limp, thrusting it forward into the bag—and is immediately met with an exploding cramp, forcing out an agonizing cry as he is reminded of the new injury on his hoof.
"Who's in there?" Came a booming voice from down the hall, followed by the shaking thumps of hoofsteps. A red muzzle peeked through the door, eyes scanning about the room briefly before spotting the source of the cry. "Night Shadow!"
Night spun with surprise, blinking thrice. "Paladin!" he squeaked out, grasping his trembling hoof with the other.
The large red pegasus wiggled his way through the door, just narrowly fitting with his enormous form, only to stand at full height once through. He stared down at Night with a look of concern. "I did not expect you to be here. More so, I did not anticipate your trip to have ended so soon."
Night grunted softly, hoping to keep the details vague. "Yeah, well, things happen," he muttered just audibly and focused back on the punching bag, preparing to hit again—only to stop and use his other hoof.
Redflare cocked his head to the side. "I can also make the assumption that the vending machine was also your doing. What happened? Have you been hurt?"
"It was an accident, and nothing more," Night responded with lackluster, continuing to punch the sack with his one hoof.
The larger stallion in the room gave a benevolent stare, leaning down to Night and reaching a hoof out. "Here, allow me."
Night paused, grimacing sharply at Red. "No, leave it be. It will be fine."
Redflare drew his hoof away. "Is something wrong, Night?"
A loud smack as his sole hoof crashed into the punching bag. "Yes, a lot is wrong, but I am working it out. Now, please, leave me alone."
"Why are you acting like this?" Redflare frowned lowly.
"Why does it matter this much to you?" Night retorted, resuming his attacks on the larger bag and gradually working his left hoof to bruising as well.
"I have some mild concerns for your attitude, Night. Obviously, it is leading me to believe there is something you are keeping from me."
"Oh yeah? What else is new?" Night mumbled out.
"What is wrong? This is not how you typically act. First, you destroy an inanimate object, then you hurt yourself on a punching bag, and now, you are aggressive with me for no real reason!" Redflare raised his voice, it echoing around them. The room itself was gradually warming up as well.
A final, devastating blow was given to the punching bag, the chain snapping and leather tearing, allowing some of its interior contents to spill across the floor. Night's body moved with heavy breathing, his head snapping back and up to the larger pegasus.
"Tell me this. Have you lost ponies before?"
Redflare blinked, bewildered. "Why is that—"
"Have you met somepony who has lost other ponies before?" Night cut him off.
"Many times. What does this have to—"
"Did you constantly nag at them until they broke down and told you everything? Did you annoy them to the point of fracture?!"
"Night! What is the meaning of any of this?!"
"Why did I even bother to trust you? Why did I allow you into my life and career this quickly to where if I choose to avoid a conversation, that you feel the need to bug me until I tell you what's what?!" Night screeched out.
"Night..."
"Don't you 'Night' me! Don't you 'Captain' me, either! I am no one to you, and you are no one to me! You will respect that, whether or not you enjoy it!" He snapped.
Redflare's ears pinned to his head. His maw sat partially open, though no words came out. It had been as if Night drove a giant sword through his chest.
Night panted softly, body practically boiling with the combined anger. The flame in his eyes even startled Red, despite being the significantly larger one of the duo.
"You are nopony to me. I do not have to care for what you believe about me, and I certainly do not have to give any damn about you."
"I... came here to work out, like I do a-all the time..." Redflare trembled. His voice was weak and low. "I-I just—"
"Hmm? You just... what?" Night glared up at him.
"I-I..."
"Leave."
Redflare jumped slightly, resting back on his haunches from recoiling so much. He slowly nodded, standing up and leaving as quietly as he could.
Night intensely watched the large pegasus disappear into the hallway, the distant doors creaking as they shut in his wake, and the shaking of the ground fading the further he distanced.
His eyes glassed up, tears faintly sitting in the ducts of his lids. In Night's chest rapidly beat his heart. With every pulse it gave, the larger the ache became.
Slowly, he glanced in the direction of a tall mirror on the wall, languorously striding closer and looking himself in the eye. The fury at last dissipated. In its place, sorrow.
Night steadily raised a trembling hoof, pressing it to his chest. "What have I become?"
***
With a white hood shadowing much of his face, Night glanced up to the a sign plastered on a brick-and-wrought iron corner structure, reading the name, The Royal Unicorn Alehouse.
He lowered the hood on his way between doors, situated just a few feet below ground level. Having inconspicuously walked across town, he now felt the security needed to comfortably drink in peace, and possibly destroy his liver in the process.
No mind was paid to the few strange looks he received from some of the rougher-seeming, older ponies inhabiting the place, as to be expected with pubs across Canterlot.
Night climbed himself on to a bar stool, leaning against the fine cherry wood and whistling softly to the bartender, cleaning out a shot glass held in a magical grasp and standing further near an array of alcoholic beverages in their glass bottles.
The stockier pony strode up to Night, taking a somewhat exhausted appearance with narrowly-visible wrinkles and sagging eyelids. Overall, he still was not that old of a pony. Perhaps in his late thirties or mid forties.
"What can I get ya?" asked the mahogany stallion, turning to some of the dispensers and grabbing down a taller glass mug from a see-through cabinet.
"Cider for now, please. Light."
"Comin' right up," he responded, pressing a lever atop the head of the dispenser, filling the mug with a fizzy, golden liquid that topped off with two inches of white bubbles having gathered from the bottom, straight from barrels in the back delivered from Ponyville's finest orchard.
The bartender looped around, sliding the mug across to Night, who raised it gently in thanks, before taking a reluctant sip. Initially, the taste left a lingering aroma that forced a shiver down his spine, ruffling his wings. On the second swig, perfection. Just the precise balance of apple and alcohol. With just a few more cups, he would be well under the influence.
Steadily his gulps grew larger. In two brief minutes, that glass now sat empty near the bartender's side of the counter. A second was ordered with quick response. Now, Night paced his drinking to savor the cider, simultaneously attempting to douse the perception stabbing at his emotion. A temporary solution to a likely permanent mental obstacle.
His gaze wandered to the left, eyeballing a pair of scruffy construction workers staring silently at him. Out of everypony, they appeared to enjoy examining him as if he is some sort of threat to them for what ever reason. Night blinked slowly, and in that instant, the workers returned to their prior conversation.
At the door, a hanging bell rung as it swung open. Oblivious to Night, in strolled a duo of armored stallions, both grey but of opposite race. One a pegasus, the other a unicorn. Solely the unicorn wore a helmet, the pegasus with an armor collar similar to that of the lower section of a helmet, but utilized as a collar. Both respectfully chatted, approaching the bar from behind.
Night once more glanced to the left, the guards taking seats one down from Night. The unicorn placed his helmet off to the side on the polished wooden surface, running a hoof across the top of his silver mohawk mane to straighten it.
Upon closer inspection, his voice, mane, even his physical form, and the pegasus with him. Both were startlingly familiar.
"Thunder, Sharp!" Night came to realization. Evidently, out loud.
Both guards faced Night, the pegasus leaning back to peek past the unicorn. They smiled.
"Hey, Night! Didn't expect to see you here," the pegasus, Thunderblast, spoke up.
Night jumped in surprise and faced forward, pupils shrunk to pinpricks. This wasn't what I wanted, he mentally smacked himself.
A deep, exhausted sigh let out, though softly. The darker-shaded, smaller pony put on a fake smile. "Hey, guys."
"We thought you were in Hollow Shades," the lighter pegasus, Thunderblast, added.
"Evidently not," Sharp kept his grin. Immediately he noted the brief disappearance of Night's smile. "What's the matter?"
Thunder caught on as well, his smirk vanishing. "Is something wrong, Night?"
"I don't know, Thunder. A lot... has happened in the past week," he responded, again mentally smacking himself for his brutally-honest self.
"Well, do you want to talk about it?"
Night took a gentle sip of his drink. "Another time."
Thunder nodded in understanding. "Of course."
"How... many drinks have you had?" Sharp furrowed his brow, giving a look of concern.
"This is my second, thank you very much," Night lowly replied, his body notably drooping into the counter top. A small belch managed itself out.
"Are you... are you depressed, Night?" Sharp's eyes and ears perked, as did Thunder's.
"I don't know what I am anymore, to be quite frank with you guys," Night mumbled out.
A silence followed. A lengthy one, too. Night turned toward his buddies slowly.
"I need some advice," he added.
"Ask away. We're willing to help any way we can," Thunder said, Sharp nodding at that.
Another deep sigh, then a single bob of his head. "I fought with somepony, someone I thought of as a friend. I hurt them. I hurt them badly. I snapped on them and said so many things that I not once believed I could even conjure up. He is still around, I'm sure, although he will want to avoid me at all costs."
"Who is—"
"Not going that far. Advice. Now. Please."
"All right. What did you say?" Sharp questioned.
"Too much," Night's gaze moved to the counter, slowly blinking.
"That bad, huh? Okay. Did you mean any of it?"
Night shook his head, trailing another quiet moment.
"Is he somepony known to forgive?"
"I don't know. I don't even know him that well outside of a few encounters. Even if he is, would he accept my apology?"
"There's only one way to find out, Night," Sharp stoically said, putting on a serious facial expression.
Night's golden eyes moved up to the larger unicorn that seemingly loomed over him now. Both ears pinned to his head, chin flat on the counter.
"I can't do it now. I need... I need to give it time."
Both Thunder and Sharp nodded understandingly. "As long as it is in the near future."
"There's simply too much stress for the moment," Night mumbled, sitting up and finishing his cider in a large gulp.
"Well, you know we are always here to help. What ever you need, Night, we will follow those orders," Sharp said reassuringly.
Thunder smiled warmly. "Yeah. Remember, Night, you're a captain. You lead us, too."