Three weeks had passed since Sombra's encounter with the mysterious princess of the night, but the memory of her was ever-present.
"Red-eyed Tartarus spawn! Red-eyed Tartarus spawn!" His classmates chanted as he walked down the run-down halls to his history class, their voices echoing like a symphony of nails on a chalkboard.
He shook his bangs out of his face, trying not to lash out at them with magic. Oh, how I would love to nail them to the wall by their fragile little necks, he couldn't help thinking.
For years, they had relentlessly tortured him. When he was in elementary school, it was excluding him from their activities and calling him names. Since middle school, it was stealing his books and beating him up in groups.
Not to mention the psychological torture. He'd had dead, gutted animals put in his locker, not to mention homemade bombs.
But that was only in school. The PoisonBloods, the gang that Bijou and Onyx were part of, was constantly targeting him and his brother.
Don't let your magic get out of control. He kept telling himself. But years of hatred had built up inside of him, threatening to overflow.
Then he remembered....today was the day when he turned 18. Today was his birthday! Which meant he could blow this slum-town forever. Blow this town and never come back.
He could move to Canterlot and become a magician. He could become a vagabond and spend his days exploring the world. Heck, he could even move to a small, isolated village and indoctrinate everyone into believing he was the king of an empire.
But what he really wanted was to see Luna again. Maybe they could travel together or try to master the art of magic. What if he saved up enough money to fix his hand?
Things would be perfect.
"Tartarus spawn! Orphan freak! Red-eyed monster!" His classmates chanted, snapping him out of his fantasies.
Sombra didn't know who threw the first punch and he would never find out.
Pain exploded at the back of his head and ambiguous shapes of black and red swam before his head like crazed sea creatures. He roared in pain as he fell: a hit at the back of his head could potentially be fatal.
But he was tired of gritting his teeth and shoving his emotions away, like a "strong boy" should. When did his well-being ever matter? Why did he have to hide his emotions?
It's my turn now.
He lashed out with magic, shooting in the direction of his assailant. He heard someone's cry of pain, but more hands just kept coming for him.
He inhaled sharply, channeled his concentration into a spell....nothing came out. His magic wasn't very reliable and sometimes didn't come out at all.
"Oh! Fight! Fight! Fight!" The students yelled.
It's my turn now. My turn to fight back. My turn to destroy.
And suddenly Sombra's mind was replaced with that of a rabid beast. He didn't think, just kept striking and striking and striking until his attackers lay on the ground, whimpering inaudible words. And he relished their fear. He loved the way they would shy away from him when he walked towards him. And he had no mercy.
So he destroyed them even after they were broken. Punch after punch, magic blast after magic blast, spell after spell.....
A claw wrapped around him, threatening to wound him. He instinctively bit down hard on it, tasting the salty and metallic red liquid: blood.
Another claw slapped him hard. He could almost see the ugly red handprint across his cheek. He struggled in the claws, screaming and exerting what remained of his energy to get out.
"Sombra! Sombra! It's me, Jet! Your brother!" Jet's voice roared over the ringing in his ears.
Sombra shook his head. The claws weren't claws-they were hands. His brother's hands.
"What were you THINKING?" Jet demanded, dragging him out of the crumbling building.
"What are you doing here?" Sombra asked. "I thought you had another shift at-"
"Something didn't feel right. You were acting differently when I woke up. And now you beat up and potentially kill a bunch of students?"
Sombra grabbed the collar of Jet's shirt forcefully. "This is NOTHING compared to what I endured from them. NOTHING! Do you understand me?"
Jet didn't answer.
"DO YOU?"
The only sound was Jet's ragged breath and the whispers of his other classmates. The teachers didn't care what happened. The students, who were sick of "hell-school", as they liked to call it, just wanted a good show.
"I'm tired of always having to shove my feelings away because "strong, ghetto boys don't cry." Well, guess what? I can cry even if I'm a boy, and they don't get to control me. No one does. I'm 18 now. And I'm blowing this hell-hole forever."
"No you're not! I have a job," Jet protested as they exited the school.
"A job that you hate and rips you off. You make less than the minimum wage," Sombra half-snorted as they exited the school.
They walked along the streets thick with the scent of weariness: people grabbing a quick bite of whatever they could find before heading off to work, merchants selling cheap objects and gang fights in the corners.
There were a lot of other kids their age out here, who were fighting or drinking or just trying to get by on low-paying, 15 hour jobs. The crooks all liked taking advantage of them.
The school (that they were supposed to be at) wasn't very good: half the teachers turned up high and the other half were tired of life and just there for the money. The students weren't much better.
The rich part of the empire pretended they didn't exist, and there were bigger problems to deal with.
It was so cliche. The whole socio-economic imbalance was like something he read in his books. People said this was the best time to be living in: they had just survived the Great War, had two new young, beautiful rulers and the economy was booming.
All Sombra saw was a nation threatening to collapse in on itself and give way to anarchy, two princesses who had no idea what they were doing and a messed up society that didn't care about anyone but themselves.
"So, what do we do?" Jet asked. "Do you even have a plan?"
"Of course! We have enough money saved up. We move to Canterlot. You get a job. I study more. Bring home a girl if you want. I can marry into the royal family," Sombra said, pairing his fantasy with big hand motions.
"Canterlot?" Jet spat. "Where all the rich folks live? They'll never accept us."
"Why do you care? No one accepts us here," Sombra argued.
"I guess you're right, but...."
"But?"
"We'll have almost no money when we get there!"
Sombra grinned cheekily at his brother. "I have connections. We can sell our stuff here. Steal. We don't have to move immediately. You work extra shifts. I'll help out."
Jet's protests started again.
"You get what you work for, not what you wish for." Sombra entered their slum.
"I guess you're right. But, how do you know I'll even get a job?" Jet asked incredulously.
"Canterlot is famous for its nightclubs. And, nightclubs need bartenders. You're good-looking and humorous. Logical," Sombra added.
"Ok, ok. I get what you mean. But seriously! You think it's easy to move? And why do you even want to go?"
"The pay is much better there, we'll have a clean slate and....."
"You want to hook up with the princesses. I get it," Jet muttered.
"Listen to me! This may be our chance to start over. Not to mention their huge library. We can study!" Sombra wasn't going to stop now. He was so, so close to convincing his brother. But he was missing-
Bang!
The air was filled with poison and their noses were stung by a thousand wasps. Everything was a blur of colors and chaos: a kaleidoscope of anarchy itself. Cacophonies of all types of screams formed a demented orchestra: with strings of wails and low bass notes of roars.
"Jet!" Sombra tried to call out, but he could only manage a weak cry before bursting into a fit of coughs.
What was happening?
He fell to his hands and knees. His lungs burned, scalded by something he couldn't name, while his voice was reduced to a throaty rasp.
"Sombra!" Jet's weak voice sounded from somewhere on his left, though he couldn't see anything through the strange smog.
"I'm here," Sombra wheezed and managed a wave. The brothers ran over to each other, hugging and shuddering from the impact of the bomb.
"What was that?" Jet asked. "Do you know?"
"No," Sombra shook his head.
"Citizens of the Crystal Empire," a voice called from above.
Sombra looked up, and he was astounded to see a boy who looked about 21, clad in fancy military attire, epaulettes shining on his shoulders and medals glimmering in the light. What was most intriguing was the leathery bat wings, along with his fangs.
Behind him was an army of soldiers, all holding terrifying weapons that looked like they could take somebody's head off. Amidst the soldiers was a younger boy about his age, in the same attire, but with less medals.
"Vampires," Jet gasped.
"We are Napoleon and Specter of the Tenebrisian Empire, on behalf of Empress Elvira Dusk. We have now seized the Crystal Empire. Consider the bomb a mere warning. If you all cooperate, no harm shall come to any of you-" The older boy, Napoleon announced, "or your leader".
An older woman was holding Princess Amore in a chokehold, a silver scythe to her throat. Multiple members of the army also held children, all crying and whimpering. Sombra recognized a few as the children of government or military officials.
"Why, exactly, should we do what you say?" One of the empire's generals asked.
Big mistake.
And with that, they fired a warning shot into a young girl's head.