//------------------------------// // Guilt // Story: Max Payne Stumbles Into Equestria // by CelestialScribe //------------------------------// This chapter gets pretty dark, ye hath been warned! The lively, warm shopping street of Ponyville stood before me, tailors, upholsterers and restaurants lining either side of the road. I'd like to say it was homely, but that'd mean having a back-alley tattoo parlour hidden by mounds of sleeping homeless people, something I had yet to spot in Ponyville. The lack of Brazilian gangs must of had a positive effect on my psyche, I wouldn't currently call myself an optimist, but the ponies here did seem approachable. Come to think of it, I couldn't find much of a difference living in New Jersey or Brazil. It all boiled down to the influx of assholes that ruined my life respectively. At least in Jersey I didn't need to know the rules of soccer to get myself a damn drink. I guess I brought it on myself, my existence breeds violence and presence corrupts morality. I was supposed to be the good guy, the hero. Last time I checked, heroes didn't drag everything down with them in a spiral of self-destruction. At the rate I kept going back into these depressing mindsets, I was going to need more painkillers before the day's end. My brain just didn't want me to be happy. Not like I deserved it though. Happiness was a luxury I robbed from so many before me, why would a burglar be paid for his actions? Popping another painkiller, I glanced at each individual shop, eager to waste more time before getting back to Twilight. The restaurant was first in line, and first on the list, so I made my way there. There was a mix of tables being waited on inside the actual business and outside. The waiters certainly made an attempt to look fancy, fully equipped with tuxedos and the like. I couldn't imagine a place such as Ponyville having much class. Minus the racist hicks, it was the stereotypical definition of country. Walking up to one of the tables outdoors, I sat down by myself and out of the way, waiting for service. I could only assume I gravitated to the outdoors because of previous bad experiences in enclosed places. The silver, metal seat held well against the incoming weight, and I rested my arms on the cold table. It was amusing to look down on the many ponies even from my position sitting down, but still, they had become accustomed to my presence like I was simply a big, dumb rock staring at them. I noticed there was already a menu on the table, and scanning the contents, while I was upset to have not found a full English breakfast, I expected as much. I didn't want to bring into question the subject of meat-eating habits, instead safely assuming that everyone here was vegetarian like the species would suggest. Hay fries. I couldn't go wrong with them. There were many foods involving plants you wouldn't dream of eating back home, I doubted my stomach could handle a spiced petunia salad. Eggs, however, they sounded okay. Simple, and probably the only source of nutrition I would get in a while. My decision was made as soon as the waiter arrived, a notepad in hoof and a composed, but snobby, look on his face. "May I take your order, Sir?" "Uh, yeah, I'll have some eggs and a few orders of hay fries." "Would you like something to drink with that?" Gin. Whisky. Scotch. Vodka. Jack. "Just a glass of water, thanks." "Very good, Sir." Aside from the mini mental breakdown, that went well. As much as I'd like to drown myself in hard spirits, Ponyville wasn't equipped with any, let alone the amount I'd request. It takes a lot of burning alcohol to smother my demons, I'd say they probably relish in it more than I do. Looking around the plaza as the waiter left, I could imagine the place looking very pretty at night. Miniature lamps spread out on each table, a thin, red fabric-covering stemming from the structure to protect the tables from rain, accompanied by a relaxed chatter going through and down the street. It was a rare time when I actually went out to eat, who knew being transported into another universe would have such an impact on my social life? What little of one I had anyway. The only human interaction I had beforehand was taking criticism of my drug habits. Technically shooting people was interacting with them, I suppose. I wasn't looking for a friend here though, even if I was being gradually forced into it. I didn't need friends, and they sure as hell didn't need me. They couldn't offer anything that would make me think otherwise. A dancing, pink blob caught my eye, coming down the street and heading my way. Crap. A number of hiding options came to mind as Pink jumped her way closer into view. I could get under the table, but I'd probably be stuck there, and didn't want to look like a complete idiot who didn't know how tables work. I could make a dash for the interior of the restaurant, but standing up would easily give me away. Even if I had a newspaper to hide behind, my fingers would give me away. "Hey, Maxxy!" Damn. For some reason, I thought ignoring her might work as she hopped ever-closer, looking away to the side or hiding my face in the menu. "Max! Max! Max!" She repeated with each jump, loudening and attracting the looks of onlookers. "MAX!" She practically screamed, and I yanked my head up to quieten her as she appeared right next to me. "What?!" I asked, barely containing my frustration. "Hi!" This was going to be painful. Mentally agonising. "Hello." "Whatcha doin'?" She asked, sitting on the other side of the table now, a massive grin plastered on her face. "Getting something to eat." Speaking of which, the waiter had just arrived at the exit, the plate being held to one side and the water to his other. Hooves must be a pain in the ass to use. Lowering the food and drink to my table, three eggs surrounded by hay fries was on the fine porcelain-looking plate. Presented nicely, I could actually feel an appetite coming on. It was a lot better than my diet of peanuts found in dirty bars. "That looks de-lish! Can I have one?" She asked, and her lips begin to stretch over to the plate somehow. I was slightly too freaked out to respond, she looked like a duck with an over-abundance of lip augmentation. She grasped a single hay fry in her mouth and took it back to quickly devour it. "Thanks, Max! You're a great friend!" That was a test wasn't it? Clever girl, seeing what my response would be. Fluttershy was right, Pink was obsessed with this whole friendship thing. I wouldn't get anywhere ignoring it, so I spoke my mind for once. "Listen, Pink, I appreciate you dragging me to the doctor, I really do, but I'm not looking for a friend." "But everypony needs friends! You're just being a Cranky Doodle..." Was that an insult? I couldn't tell. "...He was just like you, he didn't want to be my friend either, he just wanted to live in peace and quiet!" Sounds like I could share a drink with him. "I know, boring, right? So I kept following him and trying to be his friend, but he wouldn't have it! Then I found out he was missing his special somepony and it all made sense." She let in a huge gasp, eyes going wide and body flying off the chair. "Are you missing your special somepony too?! Wait, it would be somehuman, wouldn't it? No, just somebody! That! Maybe she was teleported to Equestria too!" Yeah, I wish, kid. Her words prodded the bull that took residence in my mind, and after a long period of passive resistance, he was eager to gore something. Last time a kid joked about my wife he later ended up bleeding on the floor of a bar with a pistol round in his chest. "Pink, please, just leave me alone." I tried to go about eating my eggs, but her pestering wouldn't stop. Dipping a hay fry into one of the yolks, I remained unwavering while taking the brunt of her words. "That's it, isn't it?! It's the only reason ponies don't want to be friends with me!" Not the fact that she doesn't mind her own business, attracts all attention within a mile, is annoying as hell or has the voice with the properties of a strangled monkey. "Well, have no fear, Max I will not rest until I find her!" She stood atop the table in a 'heroic' pose. "I just need to find a way to the human world first..." She said to herself, hoof now on her chin. She galloped off, I expected fully believing she had a chance. That was the closest anybody had been to hitting a nerve somewhere since my time here, of course it would be because of her. Trying to push it out of my mind, I finally could eat the simple meal. I didn't take much pride or pleasure in meals, hell, anything, but I found myself temporarily distracted by the amount of flavours in the eggs. Mixed with the addictive, dry twigs and you could say I had a new favourite dish. As I ate, I realised Pink would actually be doing something right now to try and find my deceased wife. She'd better prepare for a lot of digging. My memory flashed back to her gravestone, the looming mass of cold stone ever-imprinted in my mind. What made it worse was how it was branded with my name. 'Payne'. The final seal of approval for her death. Not only that, but shortly after it was dismembered by bullets, crumbling at my feet as I used it for cover. Saving myself with the gravestone of my dead wife; I thought I was supposed to be sorry. Another painkiller downed with the glass of water, another memory suppressed. After finishing the eggs with the knife and fork, I continued gorging on the fries with my hands. Again, I wasn't sure on how those hooves would of handled the job. One thing on my check-list down, how else could I possibly procrastinate? Going shopping for a hat felt too trivial, nothing I would usually waste time doing. Then again, under these circumstances, I might as well. Glancing at the other shops whilst the waiter made his way here, it didn't look like I had many options. I wasn't about to surprise Twilight with a new couch or pet squirrel. "Will that be all, Sir?" The waiter asked, placing the bill on the table. "Yeah, thanks." Fifteen bits. That wasn't too bad, was it? Either way, I was sure I had enough to cover it thanks to Trixie. Hopefully I was safe in assuming that one bit meant one gold coin. I gave a twenty percent tip, an extra three bits from my satchel and left. Gradually, I was learning the major locations of Ponyville, now heading for the flagpole stemming from the dome of Rarity's boutique. If anyone could get me a hat, it would probably be her. It might of been mid-afternoon by the time I arrived, my perception of time was hazy at best; the afternoon sky's hues just melded together to resemble my lack of concentration on the task at hand. Knocking on the door, I heard her chime, "Coming!" She opened the door, and must have instantly knew it was me from the way she had to look up. "Ah, Max! Come in, come in..." She continued to talk as I was lead inside. Rarity seemed like the type to gossip... for hours... so I hoped the room she was taking me to had a few emergency exits. It wasn't enough to try and interrupt her, insist I was only here to get a hat, she had to cut me off at every available opportunity to talk about something I wasn't really listening to. Inside her living room, there was a blue-maned stallion sat at her couch, a monocle in one eye and dressed in a fine, black suit. He stared at me in surprise as Rarity went on. I think I had a good reason why. Unless he was one of those waiters, he wasn't from around here. "In fact, I was just telling Fancypants here, from Canter-" She stopped as we both realised the one job given to this town had failed. Full exposure to an outsider, and he didn't have the insane rambling hobo look going on. "...lot... ah..." She went silent, the room now heaving a great pressure on to us. "I... say..." He said as he took off one monocle, wiped it clean, and checked again. Hovering to his side in an orange glow was a cup of brown liquid, which he gently lowered to the table. There were many possible routes that went through my mind, and naturally, all of them involved removing him one way or another. Rationality wasn't for me, it would be like offering a bear toilet paper. "...Fancypants... Max... Max... Fancypants..." Rarity introduced, in disarray and unable to think of anything else to say. "I see the rumours were not entirely false then?" He said, inspecting my person from the legs up. "Quite a tall fellow, aren't you?" I just silently thanked the fact that he wasn't backed up in a corner away from me. "Wait," Rarity started. "Canterlot already knows?" She asked, in a mix of relief and even greater fear. "No, no, dear, far from it. We all thought it was complete hogwash." His face went easier, back to what I assume was normal conversation as he talked to her. "Many undeniably foolish stories are told about Ponyville, as if in some attempt to discredit your small town here." Examining me, he finished in a much slower amazement, "Never would I have expected one of them to be true though." "I'm afraid that's the thing, Fancypants. As far as you are concerned, it needs to stay that way," Rarity said seriously. "You musn't tell anypony about this! We're under the princess's orders to not let anything slip until we have a better idea of... him." Even she didn't know what they were judging. Celestia must know that I have the capacity to be dangerous thanks to my last one on one with Twilight. Still, I'm sure these ponies have the capacity to be too, all they need is a dash of my tainted mind-frame and to be stirred with psychoactive drugs. The stallion was quick to recompose himself, adjusting his monocle and lifting the drink magically. "That shouldn't prove a problem, I doubt many ponies are even aware that I was visiting Ponyville. Ponyville's secret is safe with me, you have my word as a gentlecolt," He smiled, and I took more notice of his upper-class tones. I still had yet to speak, and with good reason, I didn't need to come off as a complete idiot who stumbled in here for a hat. Rarity sighed in relief, the heavy burden of failure alleviated from her shoulders as she sat down next to him. "Thank you so much, I just can't believe your presence completely slipped my mind." While they sat in contentment I shuffled gracelessly on my feet, routing through my pockets and taking check of inventory. Pills, money, lint. Deciding that this encounter would be more awkward than returning to Twilight, I felt like doing what I came to do and leaving. "Sorry, it was good to meet you but... I honestly only came in here to buy a hat," Rolling off my lips, the truth felt clumsy and embarrassing like a drunk stripper-for-hire picking up her clothes on the way out. "Oh, that's quite all-right. I won't keep you any longer then Rarity, I must be off. My grasp on the train timetables isn't as firm as I'd like it to be." As they said their goodbyes, I contemplated giving him a handshake. Firstly, there wasn't much reason for it, but more importantly: it would just be me holding his arm. How were two ponies supposed to shake hooves without actually grasping each other's? Maybe they didn't. A simple nod sufficed. Once he had left, Rarity lead me into the main creation room where I had my current clothes fitted. "Can we trust him?" I suddenly asked, mentally more active now that there was a potential threat. "Fancypants? I'm positive we can. He's not one to necessarily enjoy partaking with the socialites of Canterlot. He wouldn't have much of a reason to. Still, someone with his influence could easily bring the papers down here if he wanted to." A measuring tape floating next to her, she began taking in the size of my head from all angles. Automatically getting to work, it was really something how she could turn her work mode on and off like that. I could do with one of those switches, one that actually worked. Sniffing, she abruptly spoke up, "Um... Max, have you... bathed... recently?" "Huh, that'd be a no." It wasn't high on the priority list, maybe I could pass it off as a mutual habit for all humans. "Been avoiding the library all day now, guess I forgot." "Avoiding?" She picked up on my poor choice of phrasing, and for some reason I felt compelled to be honest. Of course, not entirely. "The questions are getting personal, and Pink's barking up that same alley." "Well, Pinkie I can understand, that pony hasn't the faintest idea of personal space, but Twilight? Unless it's something serious, you just need to tell her to stop." "I'll keep that in mind." Just like everything else I had stockpiled in the nuclear bunker I called a brain. She turned away from me and got to work with her sewing machine, magical flashes of blue sparking from in front of her. If I had any chance of paying her, it would be now, with her back turned to me. The only question was where to put the money. On any of the tables littered with fabrics she would probably notice, it felt as though there'd be some kind of risk with just dropping it on the floor. I noticed her purple tail, perfectly curled at the very end as if it were holding something. It wasn't the stupidest idea I've ever had, but it did have the potential to be very embarrassing if I were caught. The bits didn't feel very heavy, but a dozen of them sounded it. Slowly, almost tip-toeing to her, I reached over to her tail with a bit between my fingers. Manoeuvring it's way between the clutch of her tail, the coin sat patiently. Repeating the process twice more, I determined that there wasn't enough space for more. It fell to me to create a scavenger hunt for the payment. Wandering the room, I hid coins underneath materials, on top of a lampshade and in a pet's food bowl. Wasn't I the responsible one, endangering animals as well as all human life? You could call it generosity, refusing a free hand-out, but I preferred to call it capitalism. 'You buy yourself a product and you get what you pay for'. Funny, the last time I recall saying that was under much more dire circumstances, not for the sake of buying a hat. How my life had changed in the past few days... When the bits were all in positions were, while not immediately noticeable, impossible to avoid eventually, I went back to the main stage were her designs were held. Sitting on the slightly elevated point, I stared out the window at the still-high sun. All that time still to be spent dodging questions like they were mental bullets. Maybe that was the good thing about Jersey and Brazil, nobody gave a rat's ass about me, so why bother even talking to me about the shards of my past life? Now I was the most interesting thing in the land, the usual screaming and dying breaths suffocated with ponies greeting me and handing out free crap. "There! Finished!" She called out, stirring me from my short respite in my hand. It was a classy little number, a black fedora with a strip of glossy velvet the same colour draped around it's neck. There were two red clips keeping the velvet in place that contrasted well against the darkness. Mainly though, it would cover my hell of a bald spot. "I think it goes very well with the jacket if I do say so myself. Do you like it?" She floated it over to my head before I grasped it and put it on. "It's perfect. Just what I had in mind. Thanks." Turning it back and forth, it slid easily around my head, but wouldn't simply fall off in the wind. "I'm guessing you won't let me pay you?" "You would be correct, as a guest in not only Ponyville, but Equestria in general, I think it's only right you see some hospitality." "Sure?" I was enjoying dragging this out, but I did want to leave before she spotted any of the hidden coins. "Positive." "Alright, thanks again." "Not a problem, dear. Always a fun challenge fitting things for a human body. And um... remember the shower..." There I was, stood face to face with Twilight's library. My biggest foe yet. No amount of painkillers could help fight it. But another one couldn't hurt. Like many plans before it, my strategy was to dive right in and hope for the best. Opening the door as carefully and quietly as I could, it seemed fruitless as I was met with a horrifying sight. Twilight sat in wait, next to the 'therapy couch', as I dubbed it, and was accompanied by Pink, both with expressions that could only denote their disfavour for me. Sitting cross armed together, their glares were trying, and partly succeeding, to intimidate me. Of all the many things I failed at, I couldn't pinpoint what this one was. "Max, you have a problem," Twilight said bluntly. Oh, fuck. An intervention. I always knew this day would come, just not exactly like this. "Yeah!" Pink started. "Why don't you want to be my friend?!" "No, Pinkie, it's not that." She looked back at me. "The doctor told me how you picked up another bottle of painkillers, Max." "I have a prescription." My one and only defense: lies. "Prescriptions don't mean you can have one every four seconds!" "Yeah! What are you hiding?" Pink said, barely in touch with what was going on. Jumping to her hooves, she leapt over to me and stole my new hat. "AH-HA!" She blindly accused, pointing to my shiny dome. "Wow, you really are like Cranky..." "Check his pockets Pinkie." With no time to grab her tail as she hastily rummaged around to grab them and escape, she brought the bottle back to Twilight along with my hat. "Give me the pills. Now." I never realised what leverage a gun brought to the table. My rusty old beretta would be a welcome sight right now. "No! Do you have any idea how dangerous they are in the amounts you're taking?" Twilight angrily said. "Yep." "Then why don't you stop?!" She asked, voice raised in bafflement at my idiocy. "Because I don't care." The answer to my life couldn't come any simpler, nor in a tone that explained it any clearer. "If you die? What is wrong with you humans?!" While Twilight seemed to be on the edge of exploding, Pink had apparently learnt to put two and two together. She asked quietly and innocently, "Is this because of your special somehuman?" Twilight went still at this, while Pink was generally curious. All this beating around a dead bush finally ceased as I sensed they both realised it was true. It looked as though the fruits of their labour would end in me having a mental breakdown. Not yet though, I had one more card to play in my torn deck. "I'm going to take a shower." Thank you, Rarity. Pink looked like she wanted to protest, but Twilight stopped her, allowing me free passage up the stairs. I don't know why for any reason other than she had something planned when I got back. The final showdown of my mental escapades versus a magical unicorn. Unless you were a LSD addict, you couldn't make stuff like this up. The bathroom was the one private place I had in Ponyville, and it wasn't even mine. The one place were I could go undisturbed in thought and action, unless they didn't follow that human common courtesy. The water washed over me, but I didn't feel any cleaner. Essentially away from the rest of the world, I was still haunted by previous words and emotions from the close encounter. Why do I insist on continuing when I have nothing to lose? Was this my 'element'? Stubbornness? The refusal to give up and die when death had took all pawns but one? Of course, it was easy to ask questions, not so much on the answering side. If I give up, the killers win. That was a bare, unconvincing argument I told myself. Yes, the crackheads with no perception of anything but the next fix really cared about the continuing victim, didn't they? No, it was who sent them after my wife. Well, the perpetrator got her comeuppance, I could imagine her charred and mangled corpse buried under a few tonnes of helicopter steel. A pleasant image in my mind. It still didn't stop the anguish, or the flow of valkyr. Countless clones jumped at the sight of replacing it, turning New York back to the needle-laden comforting bed-sheet for addicts. It made me wonder if my vengeance was in vain. Obviously, the purpose of Valkyr was to get it's abusers to slowly torment the innocents. Back when I was innocent. A good cop. Someone with a purpose, hopes and dreams. An ignorant, unassuming child with medals in crime syndicate take-downs. It was best to stop thinking. I let the water wash away the thoughts for the moment, but not the pain. Just like my name, it would stay with me, my continuing partner in fucking up lives. I leant against the wall, the flowing water hitting the deep wound in my left arm. It tore through my entire bicep, the red river trailing down my arm. 'My second favourite drinking arm', permanently scarred by that leviathan of a bullet. It seemed funny how that was the only one of literally hundred of bullets that made a difference to me, but then again, I had a sick sense of humour. So when I wasn't beating myself up, my thoughts wandered to other people who had tried. It was comforting to know that the day I run out of problems, I'll always remember the old ones. After running out of happy thoughts to reminisce, I stepped out of the shower. Almost like I was a normal human being, the first shower in a while where I didn't end up sliding down the wall in tears. Baby steps. Drying off shortly after, I finished up and made my way back down into the awaiting doom. At least I would be hygienic for my demon's escape onto Twilight's paper. Creaking, the stairs signalled the arrival of a load far bigger than just myself. Somehow, the stairs could register the bottled up consciousness I'd been keeping for so long, whining as I stepped off them. To my relief, Pink was nowhere to be found. Twilight must have figured out that her presence wouldn't help, I was really beginning to hate the annoying pink pony. A piñata modelled after her would do me some good. She sat near the couch, silently apologetic for her earlier anger. A quill and paper floating next to her, we both knew that I was about to fess up to something. But that didn't mean I couldn't put up one final barrier of paper-thin resistance during it. "Ready for more questions, Max?" She asked quietly, her voice barely piercing the tense atmosphere between us. "I don't have a choice." In the old familiar position of lying down, I waited for the onslaught on the smooth, red couch. A few seconds of stillness went by, trying to find the right words to say. "Are all humans unique? Can they be categorized into different races?" She was just full of surprises. I went along with it, pro-longing the delicate cutting of my mental character. "Yeah, and there's a lot more races than just unicorns, normal or flying ponies." "You mean earth ponies and pegasi?" "Our planet's called Earth," I digressed. Thinking about it, it was a dull choice for a name. "But yeah, those. A lot of it's based on skin colour, but we don't have the variety of colours you do. The majority boils down to white, black and brown." She noted down something, and I hoped I didn't miss out any crucial points. "Interesting... I noticed you don't have a mane, or hair, on your head too. Is that common?" "Nope... just... made another necessary, stupid choice. There's a lot of hairstyles though. Again, not as many varieties in colour." From the outside looking in we seemed like quite a mundane race. No one dared break the social barriers lest they be named weird or be claiming to make a statement of some kind. In Equestria the amount of colours could be interpreted to represent the freedom and acceptance of everything, I doubted race-hate even existed. Earth ponies did look incredibly under-advantaged though. "I'm almost afraid to ask but... what's the human diet like?" Now it sounded like she expected us all to be this aggressive, and with no one else here, I didn't have a chance in hell of convincing her otherwise. "It's... what's the word... omnivorous. Some people are vegetarians, or vegans, but many of us eat meat." I turned my head to see her expression as she wrote. She didn't look scared, or angry, just disappointed. "I thought it might be... you don't... eat pony... do you?" I was certain that was an option back on Earth, but it was best that I denied any knowledge. "No, I don't think so." While she appeared to shudder, I think that put her slightly at ease. "Let's go on to something nicer... anything about the governments on Earth?" "There's a lot," Was the dumbest, simplest answer I could form. "I don't think there's many monarchies anymore. It's more democracies, republics and dictatorships. I'm guessing Earth is a hell of a lot more bigger than Equestria too, as well as advanced, I haven't heard of anything about states aside from Canterlot. On Earth you can't go a second without learning who's having the biggest debate." Could that be something I missed? Learning that some people were worse off than me, in an attempt to be grateful for what I had? No. "Think of all that knowledge that could be shared by neighbouring countries..." She scribbled eagerly onto the paper, that investigative passion returning as I gave her a topic less harmful. "Wait, advanced howso?" "Technology. I noticed there isn't a way to Canterlot beside drawn carriage or train? Must take a while. If I had a car I could be up that hill in ten minutes." I was quite enjoying bragging about our technological accomplishments, even if I didn't know the ins and outs of a car. "Car?" "Yeah, it's like a... carriage that'll pull itself. Runs on an engine and fossil fuels." "I think I saw something like that with Flim and Flam..." She said to herself. "This is amazing, how fast could human ones go?" "Well, we measure them in miles an hour, if that's any indication. Some cars go from zero miles an hour to sixty in about two and a half seconds." "Wow... that... is... fast." "You should get a load of our jets then, they can break the sound barrier." "Oh, Rainbow Dash can do that." Way to rain on my parade, Twilight. I found it hard to believe a pony could do that. Unless this whole 'magic' thing got in the way, I was sure it was impossible. "Oh well, can't win 'em all." She apparently had a lot to write down after that detail, the stream of conversation ending for a while. It looked as though my one chance to redeem our species would be to mention our technological marvels, none of which I contributed to. Unless you count the mass-produced collection of pistol bullets that sold out when I was in town, I wasn't one for helping the economy either. "Max? Do you think we can talk about your partner now?" She asked softly. There it was, what all this came down to. Constant replaying of the day in my mind was one thing, actually repeating it aloud with someone else was another. "I would prefer not." "Max, clearly whatever happened has had a major effect on you. You're never going to make any progress bottling it up and keeping it secret." It wasn't the sound of annoyed, accusing words coming from her, it was sympathy. "I want to help you, Pinkie was right, you need to let me be your friend." "I don't need any god-damn friends." "You do, Max. Painkillers can't replace actual people who will support you." She levitated the bottle to her side, momentarily reading the label before removing it from sight. "They do a damn good job of trying." "So am I. You just need to let me." "I know for a fact you'd regret asking." "We won't know until you tell me." I let out a sigh that must have been building up for a decade. That immeasurable feeling of inadequacy that grew through the years, spreading like a virus throughout me and afflicting everything, mental and physical. It took the fight out of me when all I could do was fight, desperately seeking to render me obsolete. Let's see if I'd choke. "It was more than ten years ago. I was a cop living the American dream." I didn't care if she had no idea what that was, she's stuck with my dusty inner-monologues now. "I had a wife, Michelle. And a six-month-old daughter, Rose." It hurt saying their names, especially knowing all that followed was pain, in both a metaphysical and physical sense. "I came back home one day after work, and found we were being raided by someone. Drug symbols sprayed on the wall, I could guess what they were under the influence of. I remember the phone rang, someone wanted me to confirm if it was my house. When I did, and before I could call for help, they hung up." Just the prologue of things to come in a twisted conspiracy. "Hearing my wife and child screaming, I ran upstairs. One of the attackers tried to stop me reaching them. I shot him in the neck." The gurgling, spluttering laughter, he barely felt it, didn't he? I remember my house feeling like a maze, only the fear driving me. The couch I was currently lying on was binding me, it wouldn't let me go. I forcefully sat up, feeling trapped down there. The room was suffocating, halting my attempts at moving. I needed to help her. No, I was just the victim of my own mind. Nothing different there. "Max! Are you okay?" Twilight asked, alarmed as I breathed heavily. I was stuck staring at a wall, I couldn't turn to face her. "Yeah... yeah." "Just go slow." That was the last thing I could do. Just as it was back then, the more I paused, the deeper the sting and greater the concern. "I reached the bathroom, and my daughter's cries were silenced with the echoing of repeated gunshots." I fell back into the couch. It could strangle and smother me all it wanted to now. What kind of fucking threat does a six-month old baby pose? Twilight wanted to interrupt, to try and offer some hollow words of sorrow and apology, but the best was yet to come. "They blocked the quick entrance to the bedroom where my wife was wailing in agony, right next to our child. I had to go around, just in time to hear the rest of the bullet clip empty into her." I stopped, but it wasn't over. I was motionless, staring at the floor. Turning my head to Twilight, my lips pleaded but my voice couldn't carry. 'Painkillers'. She shook her head. It was worth a try. "Another goon popped out, shot me in the leg. I didn't feel anything though. He was dead pretty fast. I don't know where the bullet came to stop. By then I was already in the bedroom. Before I could take a look at either body, the final junkie tried his shotgun out. I remember him saying, 'the flesh of fallen angels'. I hoped his death was slow, but I can't remember." The last images were now plastered in my mind, everything I lived for but couldn't die for. "The cot was overturned, a small bundle of blood streaming from the mess of small, stained woolly clothing. And, on the bed, there she was. My fallen angel. Riddled with bullets. The last thing I remember is crying to her corpse as the cops arrived, her body hanging limp and lifeless in my arms." And it was out in the open. Somebody finally listened. It felt just as bad coming out as it did being accepted, like fire trapped inside me, constantly being doused by gasoline. Did it feel good to 'get it off my chest'? I wasn't noticing many changes. The event was a cancer, it would never be permanently erased from my mind. "M-Max, I'm... I'm so s-..." Twilight was tearing up, I guess this type of thing wasn't even heard of in horror stories. It was possibly the most gruesome story to ever be heard in Equestria. Holding my head in my hands, it seemed to bring on some kind of migraine, but I went partially numb in almost every section of my body. "I told you you'd regret it." It was night-time now, the treehouse devoid of noise and full of depression. I think, more than anything, it was finally pushing me to explain it that hurt her the most. Her curiosity got the better of her, and now she was paying with but a fraction of my guilt. Maybe it would be better for me in the long run, I had no idea. Afterwards, we tried to go back to normal questions, but the warhead was still radioactive, it's cloud hanging over us and plaguing the remaining interactions together. I studied a few of her books, Spike came in and out, something about gem hunting, and she compiled a bunch of reports to get sent off. Some of them must have been about me, but whether she chose to inform the princess of my story, I didn't know. Or care, really. I still had that habit. She emerged from the kitchen, yawning as I sat on the couch. I sat in the darkness, the only source of illumination being from the kitchen. "Max... sorry about that again. I just... had no idea it would be that rough." "It's fine. Thanks for... listening, I guess." "It's what friends do." "Yeah..." I didn't resist that one, I didn't have it in me. "Night," She said as she climbed up the stairs. "See ya," I ended pathetically. Left alone in the dark, I sat up for a while, unwavering to my own tiredness. It had been a long, long day. Taught some school-kids how much of an idiot I am, protected the second most infuriating pony I had come across, went on a shopping spree and stole some of Twilight's faith in humanity. Without seeing an explosion, this was a productive day. I lay down, wondering what Michelle might think of all this. Probably to man up and punch that pink pony in the face. Or that was my own consciousness. Either way, it was on the agenda. Huh, her name didn't hurt anymore.