Light. It was a beautiful thing. Casting out the dusk from the nightfall prior and blanketing the world in a lush layer of gorgeous radiance. Usurping the throne from the cruel, iron-fisted moon and allowing the burning behemoth to assume its stead. While still wrathful in its unleashing of its fiery rays upon the earth, a far cry from the dastardly dictator the colossal dull planet was. Banishing the bitter, frigid night air back into the darkness from whence it came. Shouldering its place a brisk, pleasant gale that galloped through the streets of the towns and cities it adored. Blessing the oh-so grateful citizens with its presence.
Levi never even considered in all of his years how he could take the mammoth inferno for granted. However now, as he traversed down the windy gloomy halls of the Wonderbolts academy, the realization couldn’t be more clear. It genuinely caught the man in blue off guard how dingy and overall dowdy this multi-thousand, possibly even million dollar institute seemed when illumination was a fleeting memory.
Long glass tubes nestled snugly in a achromatic metal bed alongside their brethren dangled from the ceiling. Their purpose solely to provide a stable source of luminescence to the otherwise tenebrous, shabby corridors of the establishment. With their intricate electrical bowels dead and lambency an echo of a time long lost, they were practically condemned. Imprisoned within their chalky steel prison, hanging from the stone-grey roof by slender, lengthy sable wires. The vast and labyrinthine mechanical organs, inhabiting whatever space lay atop the plafond, was now nothing more than a knotty colony of robotic organs devoid of a purpose. A barren wasteland of hundreds of stygian threads and silver panels, like an ancient city lost to time.
Where the passageways weren’t abandoned by the bulbs that forsaken them, the small square windows were barely enough to suffice. Whoever had the utterly brilliant idea of suppressing the sun’s lucid blessing put little moil into their efforts. From what miniscule, minute dividends prevailed from their endeavors of censorship, rangy shafts of golden gleam breached. The tan walls, downright absent of personality, were given a nanoscopic hint of the sheer beauty it was missing out on. Willowy bars of aurate luster adorned the sand-painted partition, the shadow of the shutters expurgating it casting a shelf-esque pattern. They reminded the male heavily of what the flaxen luminescence was trapped behind, bars of a cell.
And, if he was being brutally honest, that was exactly what the building evoked inside the brunete. A prison. Neverending oxbow aisles, dusky conditions, the white and grey bathroom tiles that formed the floor. It was an entire package that spelled an inevitable dreadful experience for any and all who entered. For Levi, that was most certainly the case.
Ever since the moment he vacated the sanctuary of Spitfire’s office and stopped himself from questioning her further, there had been a pang vandalizing his heart. A thorn periodically impaling his core every time the captain’s name ever dared to cross his mind. Whenever Spitfire grazed the endless pasture of Levi’s psyche, there it was. When he reminisced about his vain attempts to reel her negative feelings to the surface, it made itself known. Time after time, it was always there. Tormenting the male as if it was his own personal purgatory. A punishment that was forever locked behind his ribcage. One that, in spite of his momentous efforts to cleanse himself of it, was there to stay.
However, out of the laundry list of badgersome effects it brought in tow, one stood out from the broad sea of transgressions it inflicted. It wasn’t any of the pain or discomfort it afflicted him with. It wasn’t the domineering confusion that surrounded the pain’s existence in the first place. In fact, it was something Levi felt he shouldn’t even be fretting over. Yet, here he was. Wallowing atop his own personal mountain of regret, lamenting about the paths presented to him. One shining brighter than the rest but somehow the one he deserted.
During his silent trek, occasionally interrupted by an unnecessarily loud conversation from beyond the palisades, he was amicably gifted all the time he needed to think. Simply walk, breathe in the odorless Cloudsdale air, and think. However many minutes or hours he needed, it was all there. Right at his fingertips waiting to be used. Lingering, ready and willing to be burnt by the man in blue. Unsurprisingly, the unwelcoming tenebrous conquering every inch of the cloister was the ideal formula for exactly that. The tendrils of the murk coiling around his being like a militia of inky cobras threatening to lull him into a state of deep brooding. And, just as Levi turned a razor-sharp corner into another unsurprisingly ill-lit cloister, exactly that was achieved.
The gloaming swarming his vision perished. In its position, immediately swooping in like a malnourished vulture, was an immensely less drab and frowzy sight to behold. Levi found himself once again in Spitfire’s office, marinating in the deathly-thick air as he struggled fruitlessly for an optimal sleeping posture. He vividly remembered the constant pestering shuffling his build endured, trying with the utmost effort his bone-tired frame could withstand to pinpoint the perfect resting stance. Folding and unfolding his arms. Contorting his legs in every position he was aware of. He harked back to it all. The slight pinch of annoyance replayed in his heart was the repose he miserably longed for never came. Instead, all he received was a cruel drowning in the herculean ocean of worry the room was engulfed in. The chamber and the brunete had one thing in common, they both suffered from the sickening waves of anxiety radiating from the flame-haired pegasus’ tense form.
He was well-aware that if the walls could talk, they’d most certainly be pleading for Spitfire’s acute concerns to be addressed. And, not wanting to bear the brunt of the typhoon of trepidation any longer, Levi addressed the situation. However, the outcome he received, and the one he was partly responsible for, was the reverse opposite of what he strived for. In fact, he did more harm than good in every sense by leaps and bounds. The sudden death of the intense perturb, shrouded by a regnant veil of the infectious confidence he knew her for. The key word in all regards being “shrouded”. Not casted out to the cavernous bowels of Spitfire’s psyche as Levi intended. Not getting to the bottom of who or what Silver Spears truly was that terrified her to that degree.
He achieved none of that. All he did was not only give birth to a mass of questions with zero answer on the horizon, but breathe life into an army of misgiving that ravaged his nucleus without a fragment of mercy. One inquiry however ruled above all else, keeping its supremacy alive with an iron fist and a grim absence of ruth. A query that Levi wished had an easy, simple answer. A response that demanded no pondering or internal tussle for what was the correct answer. Over and done with in the snap of a finger. Howbeit, like all things in Equestria, it harbored no such thing. That probe, that scorching inquisition that robbed his brain of all ounces of attention, seemed undemanding on paper, but was per contra in reality.
Who is Silver Spears?
Easy. Not a problem. No sweat whatsoever. It appeared to be immensely straightforward. Labor was unnecessary. Any active contemplating or musing was gratuitous. At least that’s what he pined for. It couldn’t have been more obvious to the male that the real world had graphically different ideas. Why wasn’t the riposte as facile as it should be? Silver Spears was one of the two co-captains of the Golden Dashers. In spite of that being the only solution Levi could possibly offer his truth-starved intellect, he was more-than-aware that wasn’t the full story.
There was more hidden deep beneath the surface. The veracity behind the real identity of the pegasus was nestled somewhere in the depths of the darkest cavern. Waiting to be found in the abyss of the dusky canyon of mystery. It wasn’t a matter of Silver being some false name and discovering the valid identity of the pegasus. It was for more compound than that.
His confusion and intramural conflict dates back hours before his current footslog through the light-devoid aisles of the academy, following the Wonderbolts’ victory against the mediocre, ragtag group. The uncanny, oddly off-putting encounter with Silver and her lackey was the root of all of Levi’s current inner frays. The emotional skirmish he couldn’t seem to dig up the reason for. There was something so…weird about her. Her aura discharged the furthest thing from what her features eagerly painted with the brightest, most loudest of hues. It rippled a sentiment. One that Levi, sans Gary, had never experienced around another person ever in his life.
The outright joyous, beaming grin was a clear-cut dissimilarity from what candidly lied within. To say the ambience she carried on the crests of her shoulders with every step she took utterly betrayed her would be a criminal understatement. The piscinas of molten bronze, despite their exotic and unique appearance, without a doubt concealed something. A sinister intent. A hidden insidious nature burrowed in the gaping gulch of Silver’s internal vault of sentiments. And it goes without saying that Spitfire bore the brunt of her blazing, incandescent glare, where the truth was ripped to the surface without a sliver of pity.
The Dashers captain’s honor must’ve been tarnished to the maximum to warrant such a petrified, horror-stricken vizard to make itself home upon Spitfire’s features. His imagination had no limits when it came to attempting to decipher the conundrum of Silver Spears. What broad sea of crimes did she commit to sanction fear in the hearts of the ones who opposed her? How horrific was her character to permit the all-out consternation that unreservedly swallowed Spitfire?
Levi didn’t know what to think. His head was pitilessly scrambled from the vast array of thoughts ravaging his psyche. Simultaneously, just as quickly as he entered, he was thrust from the cosmic landscape of his mind. Now, as he wandered through the ghastly, decrepit halls of the academy, his brain served as a home for one pony and one pony alone. Silver Spears. The one he lacked the sufficient amount of knowledge to pinpoint his stance on. The one that terrorized his dear friend’s heart with enough dread to last a thousand lifetimes. Perhaps the veracity of what was candidly behind the mystery of Silver would come to him one way or another. Time worked in mysterious ways after all. It would reveal the candor when the appropriate situation arose. The moment the hour struck and the minute rhythmically ticked into existence, only then would verity prevail. Whether it be in the most heinous way imaginable, or tame enough for all the world to bear witness he had no idea. All he could do was clutch his hopes close to his chest and pray alongside them. Desire for an insipid reveal of the conundrum’s enigma. Tomorrow, next week, next month, hell, even later that day, no date was spared. Longing for a peaceful reveal was the only option that remained in his hand.
CRASH!
Levi’s skeleton threatened to leap from his skin in pure, unsullied fright. It was the first thing in what he perceived to be hours of aimless wandering that even slightly resembled a noise. In fact, anything that harbored a meager pitiful sound wave.
Putting the unusual and unexpectedness of the outcast pandemonium aside, the auditory discord wasn’t the only thing that piqued the brunete’s attention for better or worse. It was the sheer ferocity of the impact that hit the male in more ways than one. It was devoid of the simplicity of being just a regular old bedlam of two, somewhat immature, Wonderbolts messing around. Given the unforgiving nature of the training Spitfire practically tortured them with, it was no surprise that they pined for a few minutes to relax. At least, whatever they considered “relaxing”. Piledriving one another into the unyielding, chilly tiles and barreling into the spotless walls was their twisted definition of fun. Over and done with. Case closed.
It was the answer the man in blue yearned without a snippet of a doubt, but it was the exact opposite of what fate cruelly dealt him.
The audible dissonance, thankfully muffled by the solid textile dividing the first floor from the second, was too, dear he say, violent to be considered ordinary background noise. It advanced far beyond the boundaries of being standard clamor that all who grazed the academy were accustomed to.
No. It was so…savage. That was the only word Levi could conjure that could come close to describing the sickening, bile-inducing thump. Imagining the raw, unbridled fury that must’ve been put into the vile strike sent Levi’s stomach on a world tour. And to think the true nature of the bash was, thankfully, somewhat muffled by the pristine slabs he stood upon was…disheartening to say the least. It gave a barrage of shivers all the permission they needed to radiate through his frame, lacking a hint of hesitation.
The reality-defyingly thick silence that followed was unlike anything the brunete had ever experienced before in all of his years. Throughout his lengthy and admittedly tumultuous life both inhabiting Equestria and not, he had been faced with his fair share of deathly-awkward situations. Some warranting a public execution for how outright awful he handled it. Others brought upon a swarm of humiliation and disgrace to lay waste to his reputation. A handful of times where he was put to shame by one method or another, he was always able to bounce back…well, most of the time. This however, was the Ozymandias of all cumbersome situations. The father and mother of cumbersome interactions. It took the cake and then some. It roved an unfathomable distance past the borders of just being considered a cringe-making state of affairs. Now, it ambled into the dead-center of no man’s land. Danger. Genuine, bona fide danger.
In a way, he could discern the feud underneath his feet was starkly converse to the usual ruckus. And the fact that Levi of all people, an alien within the walls of the training establishment, identified that before anyone else was worrisome in itself. Coinciding with the brisk realization, the male had not even begun to question who or what could’ve caused the furor. There was no additional hue or cries immediately following the harsh maelstrom. Nothing at all that could even barely scratch the surface to the agonizing puzzle. The way Levi saw it, only two scenarios were readily plausible given the time and setting.
One, a meager object fell prey to a mighty tumble. Or two, the one he immensely brooded, somebody was hurt, and bad. The factor alone that the wrathful wallop harbored the ability to pierce the floor was grave. Combined with the eerie, impenetrable silence that arrived meager moments after. The ceasing of all noise, both background and not. Hush reigning supreme. His heart in a frenzy. The murk clamping its septic jaws onto the brunete with a blazing refusal to grant mercy now fostered an unwelcome feeling. A ghastly one. Levi lacked the words in his expansive vocabulary to properly describe the nameless tension hijacking the air. The serenity and tranquility that once greeted Levi with arms stretched to their limits was a distant echo.
Now, all that remained from the ruthless purge was…whatever this could be called. It seemed any word or adjective he could think of did nothing to aid in properly addressing it. Not by a longshot.
Every last remnant of anything that could possibly serve as a disturbance to a severance to his concentration perished. All other distant commotion from beyond the walls lost all signs of life. The onslaught of voices from the asphalt landing strip outside, some brimming with encouragement while others trying their damndest to shatter souls, existed no longer. The pestersome whizzing and strident whistling as the air stood no match for their ironclad builds vanquishing it faded into limbo. The competition for who could be the most loud and obnoxious of them all having a clear, graphic winner. His imagination had no limits when it came to fabricating the grandiose trophy presented to the victor.
His grade-A emerald embedded within his sockets transformed into borderline-microscopic shards of jade, as though the gems that once assumed their position were no more. All that endured the grim massacre were minute lumps of beryl crystal residing amidst the pool of white. The genocide of sound around him wouldn’t be complete without a dying whisper of posterity. The one who outright denied the Grim Reaper, their smirking mug reflected in the blemishless steel of his honed sickle. A destroyer of the odds. The solitary survivor. That lucky individual, the sole entity that bore the brunt of the purge and emerged triumphant, was none other than his heart. The very same battering his ribs like a shackled furious bull, kicked into overdrive by the cocoon of choleric conflagration.
The flame. The undying necessity to protect anyone who ever possessed the fortune of grazing his path. The male’s old friend was back and better than ever. With his sights locked and the floodgates of adrenaline divorcing, he rolled out the red carpet for his appetite. His snarling gut could only be satiated by one thing alone. Shielding the hapless soul below him from whatever harm had befallen them. And Levi was starving.
Endorphins coiled around his arteries. His veins were brought to their knees. His bloodstream was conquered. A newfound energy declared their stony-hearted supremacy. Levi’s crura sought liberty from the chains that bound them. The silver bilboes that restricted the man, gatekeeping him from bringing the hammer down upon the septic grip of danger. Strike down the vile forces that dared to exact the darkness inside them upon the innocents.
No. Not now, not ever.
Levi’s appendages proclaimed rebellion. A bloody and ruinous revolution dawned in his arms. Limbs thundered for freedom. To be granted the ability to burn rubber to the person below him and tend to, from what it sounded like, their grievous wounds. Amnesty was on the horizon. Just mere centimeters out of reach. All they needed was a single push, even a trifling bump of a fraile breeze, that would send Levi into overdrive.
Teeth clenched. Jaw threatening to pop from his skull. Venules rushing. His blood now an irate river.
It was time.
His feet exploded from the ground. His shoes clicked and clacked against the pristine tiles like panicked typing on a keyboard. The gloom, whose stygian tentacles formerly strangled the man in blue, were puny in comparison to his newfound agility. Levi’s never-before-seen athletic prowess put the dense tenebrous to shame. In a way, without even realizing it, the brunete had single handedly usurped the throne the darkness previously reposed on.
His footwear infected the air with a strident, raucous squeal as he whipped around, what he perceived to be, the thousandth corner in the past hour. Judging by the mighty tumble the male just barely escaped from upon turning, it was more-than-evident the unsullied stoneware wasn’t meant for running. And most certainly not designed for valiant charges with little-to-no time to waste.
Situated at the terminus of the passageway was a wide staircase. Stainless silver railings adorned the sides of the broad flight, accompanied by a tall, blank lancet on the wall. Herculean shafts of flaxen radiance decorated the steps with long golden belts while simultaneously breaching the erstwhile mighty palisade of murk. To anyone on the face of the planet in Levi’s circumstances, they would practically fall to their knees and rejoice at the divine sight. Cry out the name of the Lord to the heavens above in unfathomable thanks for the gift that poured from his core.
Honestly, in any regular situation, Levi would most likely do just that. Sincerely express his gratitude as best as he could with the tools he was provided to the hancho upstairs. To the brunete however, he only viewed it as a red herring. A false symbol of hope who’s poor, pitiful existence served one purpose and one purpose alone: To deceive Levi. Fool him with the greatest trick whatever phantasm followed him had to offer. Whether the golden rays were ones of truth or lies was a discussion for another day. The only task Levi had locked into his sights were completing his meteoric descent down and rescuing whoever was lied beneath. Even if he was more wrong than he ever could’ve imagined, he could at the very least find comfort in the fact that he pursued his duty with a fiery urge.
Levi’s trotters lacked a measly sliver of a moment to comprehend what they were colliding with. The encounter with his soles and the coarse materials of the steps was short-lived. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it event. A breath in the wind. The fugitive greetings of the rough textile was the absolute least of his worries.
The kindling inferno in his lungs. The cataclysm of all cells of energy congregating in his being. The red-hot, glowing tendrils of exhaustion beginning to coil around his bones. His physique initiating its purge of vigor. The ever-increasing dread with each second of inaction that passed. Those were just to name a few, and all of them surpassed one another by leaps and bounds. The incessant flock of feelings were akin to a gladiator arena with fierce, vexed dragons as contenders. Clashing with glistening carmine-stained teeth and broadened wings to declare the winner. Distinguish the pathetic few from the solitary victor. The battle was exponentially gruesome. Ropes of crimson belting in every direction. Showers of crimson erupting from the necks of the fallen. Patches of ichor and mounds of organs spilled from the anatomy of the defeated. It was nothing short of a bloodbath. One where a champion would emerge from the ocean of gore and enter the hall of fame. Whenever that happened to be.
The flight was divided in two. One half, the very same Levi rocketed down in the blink of an eye, led to a spotless rectangular platform of solid marble. Not only was it a stark contrast to the meters of flooring he had seen thus far, but it looked as though it was plucked straight from the heavenly kingdom above. Levi lacked both the time and care to thoroughly examine the textile his sneakers glided over. Yet again, identical to the various other instances where his feet glissaded, a stentorian, jarring screech impaled the air like the song of a swinging sword. Only amplified by who knows how much.
At that point, the merciless assault on his hearing was beginning to take its toll. Axes of agony cleaved and hacked his brain to gruesome ribbons. Sweat began their daring escape from his pores. A fist forged entirely from needles and broken glass abducted his heart in its grip, compressing the drumming organ devoid of a flake of mercy. Every last inch of his build pleaded with Levi for a rest. Or at the very least to slow down. A command the male outright refused to yield to. Evidently, Levi wasn’t a buff man. Not by a longshot. He had taken his fair share of footslogs to the gym in his years, from the freshmen year in high school to the week he was sucked out of Tuscaloosa. In that time, he had garnered, what he considered to be, a decent build for a 25-year-old.
Whether it was weary bones or his utterly sapped limbs who had the loudest voice was unclear. What wasn’t however was the thundering sentiment resonating through the long empty chambers within his frame. Bouncing off the walls of his ribs and ricocheting from the meaty blockades of muscle.
His being pined for a rest.
The plea fell on deaf ears. He abandoned the prospect of capitulating. The idea of conceding to such an order almost summoned bile to his throat. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not before he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the pony he was charging towards was safe from harm. Then, and only then, will he permit the respite it begged for.
Now, the only thing his blustery psyche could fabricate were strategies. Schemes to save as many precious minutes as he possibly could under the laws of reality. With the unfathomable amount of them he had invented on a whim, he could effortlessly fill an ocean of papers.
Levi leaped from the second-to-last stair with the force of a burly god. The collision of the bottom of his trotters to the unsoiled tiles was one the brunete briskly regretted. The ironclad jaws of pain latched onto his appendages, threatening to crack his marrow at the seams. The frigid stoneware bit into his palms. Despite the shield of denim his kneecaps maintained, the brumal ground still managed to unleash its wrath upon his flesh.
Did he want to give his aching frame a break? Yes.
Did he long for the sanctity of the bed back at the library? Yes.
Would he submit? Absolutely not.
This was his duty and his alone. Nobody else could fulfill it. He reiterated it to himself before and he’d do it again. Even if it was all a false alarm, he could at least relish in the comfort in the fact that he pursued his obligation and denied deferring.
He scrambled to his feet.
Breath heavy.
Legs weak.
Heart screaming.
The silver rectangular door handle before him beckoned him. Lured him in like the shrill melody of a siren. The beige accession was a carbon-copy of all the others he’d seen on his breakneck journey. Same dull, absent-of-personality paint. Same partially faded color with miniscule chips missing from the grand varnish, exposing the sable bulky steel underneath. Same sense of urgency that claimed his nucleus from the instant he discerned the sound to now.
His hand slammed onto the argent metal. The complex organs clicked in response. It divorced the frame.
And then…
Horror.
Never-before-witnessed, unbridled, pure horror.
The hallway retained the congruent features of its brethren on the floor above. Identical bland, boring tint plaguing the walls. Identical aluminum beds cradling dead bulbs dangling from the ceiling from stygian cables.
In no variation of reality both fictional and not would Levi have ever come close to guessing what was dumped in the center of the corridor. In all honesty, it was next to impossible to believe anything in front of his eyes. He was being deceived. A snake shrouded by tall grass certainly invaded the once tranquil terrain of his mind. That was the sole answer his panicked, utterly distressed brain could conjure.
Contrary to what his downright terrified psyche wanted him to accept, what lied in a bloody mess in the middle of the passageway was anything but a nightmare or a ruse. This was the overtly tragic reality.
From the small square windows, some open some not, dotting the right wall, lengthy bars of stunning golden gleam were granted access into the murky atmosphere. The primary objective in their tunnel vision was to rid the corridor of the vile, gloomy air slowly ending its life with each second of inertia that ticked by.
Levi’s blood went from flowing, healthy warm rivers to canals of ice at breakneck speed. The male’s feet burst from their idle position, freeing him of the dangerously impending suspension of his limbs.
Sprawled out in a mangled amalgamation of stock-still limbs and lagoons of ichor was a pegasus. The lengthy flaxen shaft of luster, that would normally brighten both the mood and the room under normal circumstances, turned more-than-sinister. Whatever remained of her battered, pummeled features thankfully lingered within the secrecy of the perpetual shadow. However, from what borderline-miniscule details Levi could discern from the brawny palisade of tenebrous, the fury focused solely on the poor individual was incomprehensible. To anyone else in Levi’s situation, they wouldn’t be wrong in assuming the pony before them was long gone from the land of the living. Not-so-peacefully departing from the earth in a loch of their own internal fluids. The only thing differentiating the grimly marred pegasus from an ice-cold corpse was the barely noticeable swelling and falling of her chest.
With the man now towering above the inert shattered frame, the shroud of secrecy the dusk provided reached a dead zone. No longer did it harbor any form of power under any laws over him. His panicked, immensely distressed globes were now fully granted access to the harrowing spectacle at his feet. His skeleton trembled. Bones rattled like fishes torn from the watery abyss. His heart threatened to fragment his ribcage with every assault it inflicted. The torturous throbbing and ruthless onslaught on his aching brain rejected his desolate pleas to cease.
Swollen cheekbones. Bulging, ugly purple eyelids sealing her globes with an impenetrable barrier. A stray tooth abandoned inches away from its former owners maltreated features. Her dark navy jacket, usually looking nothing short of glorious, was now the furthest thing from it. Large patches of the rough, coarse textile were violently lacerated, revealing extensive blotches of white from the tattered button-down underneath. Ribbons and slender slices of the indigo material were strewn about, becoming one with the ruby lagoon her clobbered being was claimed by. The already dusky sliver of material transforming into a sopping inky strip.
However, amidst the vast ocean of dire details on full gruesome display for Levi to fret over, there was one that solidified the identity of the bashed pony. Amidst the relentless purge laying waste to his mind’s landscape, what microscale shreds of rationality endured the eradication were strained to the utmost. The sole purpose of its existence is to at the very least attempt to comb his tempestuous brain for the answer he desired. The identity of the individual crumpled in sanguinary shambles beneath him. Her features, in spite of the immeasurable bruises and gashes desecrating it, were easily recognizable. Combined with the clothes sleeved over her belabored frame, he had a name for the borderline corpse.
His psyche was a mess. A lagoon of tatters and scraps of what once was a buzzing empire of sane thought. A metropolis of sanity, built from the salt and sand of the numerous heinous deeds inflicted upon the man in all of his 25 years of living. How the mighty fall. It never ceased to amaze the brunete how one measly, seemingly worthless glance summoned a herculean deluge that rivaled its brethren from generations past. In an instant, his intramural kingdom was gone. Reduced to nothing more than a mountain of sooty ash and mounds of pitiful rubble bespeckling the land as far as the eye could see.
Disaster reigned supreme. And even more would soon approach the horizon let one more second pass with inaction from Levi. The frayed, sorry-excuse for rags fitted over her physique. The scarily familiar sun-yellow complexion. Hair akin to flames roaring from her scalp. Her-wait.
Flame hair.
Flame hair.
No…no, no, no, NO! It can’t be, right? This couldn’t be who Levi thought it was. It had to be a nightmare. There was no way possible in any plane of reality that it wasn’t.
It was all coming back to him. The image from just a trifling ten minutes before. The picture that lingered. The regret that gnawed. The guilt that badgered. It all made sense now.
Levi shouldn’t have allowed her to leave. He should’ve stopped her, interrogated her until the sun departed for its righteous slumber. Continue grilling her even after the metaphorical smoke strangled him and violated his nostrils. But no, he didn’t. This was his fault.
Spitfire was now withering away in an assemblage of her own bodily fluids in unimaginable agony…and he was to blame.
“Oh…oh, Lord, no!” A fatigued dam exerted every last ounce of strength it possessed to keep the salty orbs from surging. Moment by moment, lament after lament, the cracks were plaguing. Rifts and canyons riddled the palisade. The reckoning for his tears was nigh, he knew it clear as day. But he couldn’t.
No was most certainly not the time for mourning or grief. The hour had long struck for action. Measures that, for reasons unknown, Levi had yet to implement into his current dour situation.
“I’m sorry…” Levi’s ghost of a voice accomplished nothing. His words were fruitless. Not a phrase or a line of speech would do anything remotely close to aiding his friend.
As he scooped up his shattered companion, his forearms becoming bathed in her vivid carmine, the bottom line was clear to him now. Spitfire needed not reassurance or sentimental consolation, but for the travesty lashed out upon her to not be in vain.
Whoever did this, whichever monster hiding amongst the saints, was going to wish the day of their birth never came to pass. He would make them regret. In that moment, Levi made a silent promise that carried through the stale air of the forever scarred hall.
Somebody was going to pay for this tragedy. One way or another, it was inescapable.
“Forgive me, Spitfire…” Levi rasped, “Forgive me…”
Levi’s heart was torn to pieces. Each one of the fragments it was viciously shredded into and strewn about the yawning chasm of his core were an emotion. An undying, burning sentiment. Guilt. Sorrow. Regret. A fierce fury. All of them directed at the torpid pegasus a mere foot before him. Belts of gauze and bandage concealing her grievous wounds from the outside world.
The copious amounts of people that funneled into the room one after another to visit their downtrodden friend and the equally anguished brunete were lucky in his eyes. The way he saw it, they should be on their knees with their hands clasped, gazing up to the heavens above in inconceivable thanks. Expressing as much gratitude as their misery-racked beings could fabricate at the fact they weren’t the ones who found her. The job of discovering the grisly scene not being dropped upon their shoulders, the weight threatening to reel them to the center of the earth with each passing second. Her friends and family candidly had no idea how fortunate they were to not have that unintentional responsibility. And Levi wished he didn’t have it either.
The man in blue forlornly recollected how joyous his heart was strolling through the desolate halls in the minutes preceding the cataclysm. How cordially blind he was to the horrors that awaited him beneath the tiles he stood on. Oh how he pined for one more meager waft of that ignorance. A measly hint of that echo of euphoria. The calm before the storm. Never in all of his life had he taken anything more for granted.
At the root of it all, he was well-aware he was not the one to blame for Spitfire’s tragedy. Not by a longshot. Contrary to the popular belief his agonized, tortured nucleus forced upon him, his intervention would’ve done next to nothing. A lesson he learned in the worst way possible through his twenty-five years of living, some things he experienced, both harrowing and heavenly, were entirely out of his control. Not a thing he could do or imagine doing would shift the tides of time in his favor. It was a train on a one-way trip to either rock his existence to the core or bless it beyond belief. And there wasn’t an action, measure, or act he could establish that would stop it. It seemed to the male that, despite the excruciating nature of the travesty, this was one of those inevitable obstacles. A mighty hill he was forced to cross.
One after another, Spitfire’s kin and numerous companions filed into the chamber. First it was her mother. Stormy Flare. Her vibrant purple cardigan sleeved marvelously over her aged physique was the exact reverse opposite of what her quivering body conveyed. Her priceless pearl necklace standing its ground from the momentous lump inhabiting her throat. Her combed back orange hair being used as a not-so-effective tool of self-comforting, running her hoof through it more times than Levi could count. Her sooty eye shadow marvelously withstood the barrage of tears that declared war on her wrinkled features. In the end, her face lost the ghastly battle. Remembrances of the macabre battle being lengthy red trails and puffy eyes brought upon by the salty orbs.
When her bout of seemingly endless weeping arrived at its terminus, the more-than-distraught matriarch asked the wretched question. The inquiry he feared the most.
What happened? And why?
It was the same pained tone that ravaged what little slivers of unperturbed remained in his mind. The identical timbre her father used. Twilight used. Rainbow used. Everyone used. The worst part of it all, he couldn’t bear to tell them the veracity of her fate. Not only were the ambushed and swiftly slain on their trip up his throat, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy their decimated souls. For a short while, Levi imagined himself in their shoes.
Standing in that dastardly hospital room. The comfortable air outright defying the true schmaltz that lie within. Barely able to keep standing on his own duo of trembling legs. His core gloomily yearning for closure. Only for the bombshell to smear him away from the land of the living being that…they didn’t know. They found her leaking her vital scarlet fluids and that was it.
The scenario proved too much for his fragile chest to bear. If another desolating fantasy dared to cross the cosmic landscape of his mind, the overwhelming woe would prove ruinous.
Levi mirrored their concerns and queries wholeheartedly. He too was desolate in his forage for answers. His search for a reason or something that would even slightly resemble a motive was proving fruitless. And Levi was growing desperate with each tick of the clock. He couldn’t wrap his head around the sober circumstances that suffocated him. None of it made a fragment of sense. It was, from what diminutive evidence he had to his name, a flurry of senseless violence. An unpitying attack with no endgame or goal in mind. A sudden, unexplainable burst of savagery. The works of a psychopath blending in amongst the sane masses, his mask of normalcy plastered with frightening expertise. Whichever devil donning a masquerade of an innocent pony was not only cruel in their delivery, but horrifyingly experienced.
Looking down on the grimace with a different set of lenses, it never stood out to Levi before the skill and stealth it would take to pull something like this off without a hitch. The more he thought he put it into it, the more it became lucid. There was no clamor of a broken down door or a vanquished window. Instead, there was the eerie quietude of a sneaky entrance. The assault wasn’t a rapid-fire barrage of punches and blows. It was a one-and-done deal. A singular couple of brawny wallops and they were gone with the wind. Like they were a dreadful phantasm melting into the atmosphere enveloping them. After lashing out their inner demons upon the world, they vanished. No repercussions. No consequences for their actions. No wrath from an irate man in blue. No nothing.
In the end, the pony, unicorn, or whoever that threatened the life of one of his dearest friends was anything but a specter. As much as their alarming set of skills strived to make him believe, they weren’t a ghost. They were not some otherworldly being set on cascading torment and gloom upon the earth before dissipating permanently. They were a living being with a stony heart and a twisted brain. A mortal walking the same lands as Levi. One that clearly hadn’t been taught that their actions had consequences. A lesson that, the moment their identity became known, would be engraved into their psyche forever. Lunatics are just people religiously following the perverted roster of principles their vile mind fabricated.
In other words, just a person. A person that Levi would waste no time strangling for their sins. All it was was a matter of who and where. A process that would manifest easier than he anticipated.
The abominable lagoon of carmine that perpetually stained the hallway wasn’t there just to display the sheer brutality of Spitfire’s attack. The deafening vivid crimson color highlighted all the evidence Levi could ever ask for. From a first glance, the piece seemed worthless, miniscule at best. A feather. When the brunete’s emerald irises were first laid upon it, he suspected nothing. After all, they were in the heart and soul of Cloudsdale. They were bound to find somebody somewhere with that extremely distinct feature with no effort whatsoever.
Under any normal circumstances, that would be the case. Trying to pinpoint a regular, everyday feather to a horrific crime of unimaginable proportions was a nigh-impossible task to fulfill. Even a glimpse of the reality of Levi combing every last inch of the city in the sky looking for the culprit riddled his being with desolation. No one would pay. There would not be a soul to punish. It would all be in vain. Well, that would’ve been the case. The dead giveaway was a detail Levi should’ve forgotten about. A pony so outwardly insignificant to the male’s existence that his brain would simply tune her out permanently. Casting her to the cavernous lake of obscurity in the bowels of his brain. From the heart-shattering, earth-rocking revelation that was pieced together with no time at all, his psyche clearly had other ideas.
Grey. The hue of a coarse rock face free from the shackles of blemishes that threatened to reel it. The pigment of newly melted iron. A billow of dark smoke roaring from the gaping maw of a mammoth fire. The exact same shade belonging to one in particular. Someone that by all accounts should’ve left well enough alone. Someone that would learn of their grave mistake as soon as the opportunity arose.
Silver Spears.
That bastard. That wretched, repugnant, stony-hearted mound of waste that robbed the world of oxygen she didn’t deserve. It all made sense. His mind, once a foggy mess of borderline lethal worry and a mist of confusions, was crystal clear. As clean and spotless as the window of the V.I.P booth at that fateful game. The self same where Spitfire’s fate was sealed when the gleaming golden trophy met her eager hooves. The sun’s magnificent rays glinting off the bold ore. An awe-inspiring sight to some, an invitation for cruelty for the Golden Dashers.
Whether the entire plan from the genesis hinged upon Silver’s unbridled inhumanity was anyone's guess. The bottom line was Levi was right. The perpetrator wasn’t some wraith hellbent on unleashing obscenities on the living. They were alive. The same bones shielded their organs. The same lungs swelled and shrunk with unwarranted ozone. The identical heart that struck their ribs.
Only difference being hers wouldn’t beat for much longer. He couldn’t protect Spitfire then, but he can damn well prevent another calamity such as this one from occurring again. Morality be damned.
So, there he was. His haunches embraced by the hypnotic comfort of the lush hospital chair, the luxurious coffee-colored cushion clearly engineered to ease the misery of all who entered. His imagination had no limits when it came to attempting to fathom how many elders withered away in the bed Spitfire reposed on. How the last hours and days of unfortunate souls played out as cancer laid waste to their being. The ravines of tears that broke free from their shackles. The trembling bodies quaking with sorrow when their kin’s reckoning struck. The ear-piercing flatline resonating inside them for decades to come. The haunting tune of the Grim Reaper trekking to fulfill his duty. The countless people that experienced just that in the very same seat he found himself in was oppressive to say the least. The lavish pillow beneath his rear put forth its best efforts to cleans Levi’s heart of its ales, all to no avail.
Noon had long passed since his arrival. His limbs never altered their position, as though his bones were caked in an impenetrable block of concrete. His globes ne’er strayed far from the leaden quill he twirled against his hand, the bristles uniting as one to form the plum tickling his palm. The crimson spilled from either his friend or the maniac who assaulted her leaving a ever-so-slight tinge of crimson on his flesh. His face was cold, every last remnant of personality or emotion an echo of lost time. A fleeting evocation bouncing off the walls of his skull. A distant reminder of how badly he had taken joy for granted before it was heinously robbed from him. Ardor to beat Silver’s head into the ground for what she did was all that inhabited his mind.
It wouldn’t take long for the totality of the Wonderbolts to burn rubber to their leader. If Levi was honest, he wished they would’ve stayed far from her. The futile strives to catch their breath, choked sobs, and muffled wails were better left within. Seeing a team of the most highly-trained, strongest pegasi reduced to a bawling crew was severely disheartening. Even witnessing the brawniest of the brawny in a thousand-yard stare unable to comprehend the harrowing sight before him made Levi wish this was all a dream. A nightmare he could be shaken awake from in a puddle of sweat. Despite his clothes drenched and his throat desiccated, he at least was liberated from the claws of terror that throttled him.
However, the reality he shouldered the misfortune of living in had different ideas. One that didn’t cater to Levi’s preferences in the least bit.
Time lost its meaning in his brain numbed by the dire state of affairs he was in. A measly handful of minutes? Hours? Or maybe even a half day? Levi couldn’t tell and, from the less-than-pleasing statement given by the doctor, it was better that way.
“She’ll be in a medically-induced coma for possibly the next few days, Mr. Cronell.” The amber pegasus droned, his coat identical to the optics of his marred friend. “It may be tomorrow, it may be next week, we don’t know at the moment.”
His tone was bereft of empathy or emotion. Not a shaving of an attempt at consoling the brunete. A trifling affirmation of her injuries and a pitiful, sorry-excuse for condolences. Just like that, he was gone. Departing and forsaking Levi in the dull prison cell known as an infirmary. The decaying cyan paint reminded him of his rainbow-haired companion who had brought him here in the first place. Unlike the dark trails left behind from the chiliad of tears she exerted, the pigment was flawless. Putting the dying flare of the hue into consideration, it appeared the dingy varnish reflected the internal turmoil of all who entered.
Each rhythmic tick of the equally slummy clock riddled with cracks and chipped glass was his cue to leave. An aide-memoire that he had a vastly more happy and joyous home patiently awaiting him back in Ponyville. Every minute that passed was time wasted in that damned dungeon. The mundane odor of medicine and cheap cleaning chemicals sieging his nostrils. The unceasing beeping from neighboring rooms and non-stop chatter from the immensely positive staff congregating in the halls.
For the first time following his meteoric entrance, Levi abandoned the snug cushion. In a desperate shot to gain any feeling in his deadened being, the male stationed his stiff legs on Spitfire’s bedside. A place neither of them should be. After the curtains closed on his life of sin in Tuscaloosa, all Levi sought was peace. A chance to alter the path his existence took and start anew. Gone were the sleepless nights where his slumber was severed by either a screaming match or a gunfight. No longer would the weight of his crimes splinter his bones. His days of immeasurable transgressions were over. He had finally achieved what he lusted for all these years: Tranquility.
As proven by the gut-wrenching events playing out before him, that serenity was solely a ruse. A temporary guise for the true horror that lies in the veld of Equestria. Atrocities that Spitfire has experienced firsthand. His emerald irises scanned her wrecked complexion as many times as his gnawing heart allowed. All the Lilliputian belts of bandage secreting her ghastly injuries from the outside world. Each and every small strip of gauze shrouding her wounds. To Levi, all of her intimates both blood related and not had no idea how lucky they truly were. If he believed the utter despondency plastered over their features was tear-inducing in itself, he could only imagine how they’d react had they been in his position.
Finding her in a tarn of ichor. Her bruises and lacerations visible. Superbly combed mane diluted to a disheveled, sweat-ridden mess like a kingdom of rats. The guilt… It was better if he didn’t dwell on it. With the carmine-stained proof tucked away cozily in his back pocket, Levi possessed all the fuel he needed to ignite his warpath for revenge. Silver was going to pay for what she did. That was non-negotiable. The path of all the others who wronged him throughout his life was paved with pain and rue. One way or another, whether it was in their life or the next one that awaited them. Their actions always found a way to strike back with the force of a thousand suns. The customers who crossed him in Tuscaloosa. The homeless junkies who made fruitless endeavors at murdering him. Gary. They all faced judgment, and Silver was not an exception.
Levi gingerly rested his palm upon Spitfire’s rigid forelimb. The grim stiffness overpowering her appendages a far cry from the pegasus they belonged to. A pony that was brimming with vigor and brawn, a fearless captain of arguably the best flying team Equestria had ever seen. The sable lens of her sunglasses sparing the life of anyone who shouldered the adversity of being on the receiving end of a verbal beatdown. If looks could kill, her sharp amber orbs were cleave them in two without a hint of pity.
In the present, all that made Spitfire who she was was a short-lived memory. A thought residing amongst the masses living in the rearmost end of their mind. Her vibrance was null. The fine fettle she owned with pride turned to ash and rubble. Spitfire as he knew her to be would never be the same. Forever plagued with the scars both physically and emotionally that Levi couldn’t protect her from. An attack he couldn’t stop.
How did he not hear it?
How was he not alerted to it sooner?
Why did it happen?
Levi shut his eyes tight. His featherly caressing of her lush fur stopped dead in its tracks. Fleshy palisades strained to the utmost to keep a surplus of tears from breaching to the outside world. He was well-aware that the time for grieving was somewhere along the horizon, but most certainly not now. He wouldn’t allow himself to get lost in the endless field of who, what, and whens. Combing the extensive pasture of his psyche for a fictitious fantasy where he did swoop in like an angel diving from the heavens. Ready and able to be Spitfire’s knight in shining armor, prevent this tragedy from coming into fruition to begin with.
However, at the end of the day, they were all fictional scenarios. Mini-movies flickering in Levi’s head that couldn’t amend the past, present, or future in any way. In other words, a total and complete waste.
You had to take action to make change. Those were the words Levi had heard a handful of years back. The ultimate driving force, alongside his mountain of guilt, that drove him to change his life. A goal which he succeeded. At that moment, the brunete had a choice to make. Either give in to his doubts and not put forth any strives to avenge his companion, or teach Spears a lesson she’ll never forget. After all, there was a possibility, albeit unfathomably slim, that Silver wasn’t the culprit. It was perpetually present in any criminal case on the face of the earth.
It didn’t matter how rock solid or utterly undeniable the attestation was, a gracile odd was unfailingly present. Looming over the victims in their time of grieving like the phantasm it was, haunting them eternally with the possibility that the culprit would never be brought to justice. That the righteous hammer of karmic retribution would ne’er meet the one who cascaded pain and anguish upon their existences.
It harbored no significance to Levi whatsoever how many grueling days and sleepless nights he’d have to endure in order to deliver their punishment. They would kneel before the mighty throne of the Law Lord. Where right then and there, Levi would be granted all the permission he sought to make them suffer for their misdeeds. Whether it was Silver Spears on the receiving end or a nameless face would be decided when the bridge to cross happened on his path.
Precious hours were melting away. Spent wasted in that wretched cage in that equally foul hospital. Second by second, minute by minute. Opportunities were slipping through the canyons between his fingers. He had to pursue them. He had to leave Spitfire and venture out into the far lands of Equestria for better or worse.
Levi’s legs begged for release from the chains that tethered them. His arteries were ready and able to flip the switch on the floodgates, opening the maw for rollers of adrenaline to funnel in. His lips twitched, a much needed apology lingering on the surface. Pleading on their hands and knees, clasped hands and all, to permit his pent-up apology liberty. A request that would be fruitless if commenced.
If Levi were to express his sorrow in vocal form, what would it accomplish? An image that the man in blue was some sort of maniac trying to converse with an unconscious pegasus. He had read his fair share of medical studies and articles in Tuscaloosa about comas. Delving deep into the fascinating nature of them. How the brain was affected. In what ways the limbs suffered. The reason and why they happen in the first place. He recollected vividly one of the addressing the subject of speaking to the sufferer in question. One that, from what little his interest allowed him to soak in, wouldn’t be beneficial.
All it would attain was making Levi appear to be a guilt-ridden, manic human, hellbent on talking to a pony he was well-aware wouldn’t respond. The last thing he wanted to tack on to his conscience.
Levi’s honed, indignation-filled globes grazed to the door. His brows furrowed. One of his eyes quivered. His teeth greeted each other, threatening to fulminate at a moment’s notice.
Levi was ready.
And he knew just the one to do it.
The brunete rushed through the black-and-white tiled hallway. The colors being identical to the academy where he failed his friend shortly before. A mistake he would never bring into reality again.
“Rainbow,” Levi’s tone was assertive. Nothing in comparison to the downtrodden equine he addressed. His irises flicking to her wings for a fleeting instant.
“I need a favor.”
The roaring of wind in Levi’s ears skidded to an abrupt halt. The rhythmic pumping of a familiar pair of cyan wings ceased. Rainbow’s hooves followed his feet on their journey to the clouds, his destination nestled snugly atop it. The innocent seeming compound that would quickly transform into a lion’s den. Perhaps even worse than that.
The Golden Dashers HQ was a sight to behold. It was a behemoth structure forged entirely from ashen bricks, held together by long thick belts of sooty cement. Some of the excess paste binding the building at the seams dribbled down the walls. The set of glass double doors with a duo of black steel handles appeared inviting, but the potential horrors that could lie within might prove otherwise. After all, any place run by a serial criminal couldn’t be a happy place to be. The roof was a flat bed of concrete bordered by white metal gutters, ready and able to funnel whatever wrath Mother Nature decides to unleash upon them. An uncountable amount of cracks and fissures riddled throughout desecrated the semi-perfect image it attempted to display, simultaneously revealing its age in its entirety. A vibrantly-colored poster was tacked to the palisade, one of its vivid corners peeling from the cruel hand of time. Despite the only source of vivid hues all around the gloomy, desolate hunk of stone, it fostered no importance.
To Levi however, the familiar vigorous pigments screaming for attention was all the confirmation he desired. This was the home of the vile sod and her lackey he went there for. In truth, Levi didn’t have a shred of a clue as to how Silver, or anyone else on the team for that matter, would react to a human strolling in. Much less with an undying vexation and a debt to settle. Even if Silver demanded he leave right there and then, there wasn’t a lot she could do to force him. And if the last of her brain cells perished and she did demand his immediate exit, his comrade buckled tightly to his waist would talk before he did.
A grin dawned over his features.
Before he had arrived at the detestable breeding ground for cheaters and delinquents, the speedy pit stop at the library served only one purpose alone. To retrieve Platinum’s sword.
If he was going to confront someone he never uttered a word to in his entire life, there was a sizable probability she wouldn’t take too kindly to the accusations. If her alleged actions thus far were an indication of anything, Levi could be in for hell or high water. The exact grounds for fastening the instrument of war around his obliques and setting off. In spite of his experience using it or any blade at all being a barren wasteland, it sounded like an idiotic idea. Mayhaps the pony would tremble in fright at the spectacle. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, if it goes south, his fists were the ideal substitute.
The calm, ginger afternoon breeze of Cloudsdale never failed to embrace him wholeheartedly. The smell, or lack thereof, of a freshly produced gale nearly put him under its spell. Threatening to lull him into a deep uninterruptible slumber that could only be broken by the warm radiance of a new day. The achromatic puff beneath his trotters welcomed his presence joyfully. Levi’s reality was any child’s dream. Walking amongst the pale fluff, swallowed entirely by the azure sky blossoming with life and vibrance. When it came to dealing shocks and surprises he ne’er would’ve considered were possible, at no time did Equestria blunder. Something he hoped would last forever.
“Levi?” The male turned, his eyes shielded from the herculean rays by the brim of his hat. Rainbow, who was squinting to the point of discomfort, didn’t possess that luxury.
Lengthy streaks of sweat ran from the crest of her forehead shrouded by the multi-colored veil of her bangs, leaving dark, displeasing trails in their wake. Her ultramarine cheeks were splashed with blush. The flier’s chest swelled and died like a roiling sea in the furious storm. Considering how Spitfire was grounded after a meager few minutes of what Rainbow had endured the whole time, it made him wonder how strong they were in contrast.
“Yeah?”
Rainbow’s jaws divided. The words died in her esophagus. Hesitation was blatant. The pegasus’ globes steered from his for the briefest of moments before contact was kindled again. The sentence rose from the land of the deceased in her mouth.
“Are you gonna…you know,”
Levi’s smirk decayed ever-so-slightly.
Unlike Fluttershy or Rarity, Levi didn’t know Rainbow as well as he believed he did. Him saving her life from Gary formed a brawny, unbreakable bond that would survive for years to come. That didn’t mean he could read her body language like he can with Alan. But, if her nervous circle-drawing in the ground and flicking irises were a sign, he could deduce what she was referring to.
Levi shook his head, the sliver of doubt plaguing his heart betrayed the movement.
“You don’t have to worry, and even if I…” Levi chose his next utterance carefully, “You saw what she did, right? I’d be doing everyone a favor.”
Rainbow gave a small nod.
“Right…” Her wings flared to life, cyanic feathers were highlighted by the toasty luster of Cloudsdale. “I’m just worried. I don’t want you to end up-”
“I won't. You don’t have to worry about me, Rainbow.”
With a diminutive smile and an explosion of force from the bed of clouds, Rainbow Dash was gone. Melting into the ether her coat blended into. Trying to spot her now on her meteoric rush to wherever she set her sights on was a nigh-impossible task.
Levi swiveled his head back to the primary objective. His destination was locked firmly in his psyche. The goal was lucid to every compartment residing in his frame. He was dead set. No turning back now.
The senior, beyond tattered leather sheath slapped against his thigh with every stride. The old golden buckle keeping the borderline ancient straps of hide together jingled with the slightest of activity. The untucked flaps of his royal blue shirt danced to the tune of the zephyr gracing him with its presence. His stoic, ice-cold face refused to conform to the peaceful environment that had assimilated his being. For all intents and purposes, the sum of his personality was hidden under lock and key. Not a soul inhabiting the scurvy headquarters would see a glimpse of his true colors. He had come there for a purpose, and he would spurn the prospect of departure until it was met.
That was a promise he couldn’t break.
Levi’s presence was beyond unwelcome in the training establishment. In fact, the English language lacked a word to properly describe the aura. However, all it took was one measly excuse for his unasked attendance to be condoned. If only their security measures were as good as their leader’s undying will to win, situations kindred to the upcoming calamity could be avoided. Even if their impregnability was exceedingly tighter than their present operation, it wouldn’t halt Levi’s blazing path of antipathy. Not in the slightest.
The corridors were noticeably shorter and narrower than the Wonderbolts’. In the stead of the bland black-and-white tiled flooring that blanketed Spitfire’s academy were ashen ceramic slabs. The gap between them filled by a sooty paste identical to that of cement. The walls were equally as unexciting as their brethren below them. The midnight blue varnish nearly made the brunete blend into the deep, cavernous sea of color, reducing him to a walking pair of paints and limbs. The hue would’ve been excellent had Silver gone through the effort of decorating. Her perennial disposition for achieving victory no matter the carnage she leaves in her wake was her top-priority. That was abundantly clear. All that dared to defy the constant stream of pure indigo were the standard windows scattered throughout. Some cracked open to ease the tension throttling the hallways, others not.
The rhythmic patting of the nonagenarian scabbard against his leg was a ceaseless reminder of his intramural wrath. The imprisoned anger he flawlessly kept sealed from the outside world. The chains that kept his fury at bay rattled and trembled, the ravenous endeavors at escape taking its toll. Levi was, in every definition of the phrase, a ticking time bomb. A singular wrong move or the most diminutive accident, and Levi would explode. What exactly that entailed was anyone’s guess. A flurry of haymakers faster than the light that would illuminate their inevitable wounds. A tempest of punches that would leave his knuckles marred. Possibly even worse. When control on his temper slipped from his grasp, all hell would snap the shackles that detained it. Releasing never-before-seen indignation on whoever made the fatal mistake.
On second thought, maybe bringing a weapon to a confrontation of this nature wasn’t the best idea. For his safety and hers. There was nothing he could do about it now. And honestly, he didn’t necessarily desire for the change. In the event that a conflict would turn lethal, so be it. Silver chose this life, accepting the fated consequences that coincided with it. Erego, she should have no problem at all giving into the colossal mass of her sins and crumble. Admit everything she’s ever done that maimed an innocent. Or she could stick to her guns and lie through her teeth. Either way worked for Levi.
The few Golden Dashers that strolled past him were anything but happy with his gratuitous appearance. The brawny pegasi donning their spirited signature colors bore holes into his irises with their searing, red-hot scowl. The female fliers, while less physically intimidating, looked as though they could deliver a righteous beatdown if a situation called for one. Their glares were equivalent to a hailstorm of blades impaling his orbs. A wordless yet highly effective beckon. Reminding him of the hell he would wrought let he continue with his undeterrable path of vengeance.
Through all of his unintelligible, on-the-fly plans of Silver’s nemesis, never once had he pondered how the team would react if Levi were to take action. Despite Levi’s complicated moral compass advising against it, violence would most likely prove to be the equalizer in his state of affairs. Given this not-so-revealing revelation, it was assured without a sliver of a doubt that the ponies she trained for immeasurable days and nights would fire back. Whether that meant striking back with one of his dearest friends as a martyr or something entirely unpredictable was impractical to forecast. And it was a thought his mind didn’t have a space for. Even if it did, it wasn’t welcome. Not in any way imaginable.
Sharp corners were turned. Reluctant members guided him. Searing, red-hot glowing swords transfixed his heart. Wrath bubbled and boiled in the chasm of his core, rolling like an irate ocean in the midst of a storm. Only amplified further by the stone-cold irritation splashed across the mugs of every Dasher he came across. Their sweltering scowls all echoing the same sentiment. The identical resentment for Levi’s presence. If looks could kill, the man in blue would be a frigid corpse doomed to rot. Pure and unadulterated quietude governed the compound with an iron fist. The howling of the afternoon wind breaching the palisades was the only glimmer of a revolution in sight. And one that didn’t endure the silence long, condemned to waste away in an ocean of deafness for its treason. Then, just as it had been for as long as the building stood, hush reigned supreme.
“Here it is,” A particularly spiteful constituent hissed, his hazel glower drilling grottoes into his skull. “Good luck.”
Levi returned his surrogate shepherd’s lour with forced thanks and an equally pseudo grin before his departure. Honestly, the walk there solo would’ve been preferably over the inconceivably thick air that hung over the duo. Nonetheless, Levi had gotten exactly what he wanted out of the Dasher.
The golden name plate with the unfit label of “Captain” imprinted in bold, stygian letters, adorning a pale door. The silver knob glimmering in the fluorescence enveloping the aisle.
The time was now. Silver Spears, the one who had barbarically marred his dearest friend, was vulnerable. Right before him. All that stood between them was a measly hunk of metal decorated with her worthless title mocking him. Long veins of the ugly steel flesh beneath, once shrouded by a veil of white varnish, desecrated its image. Akin to the spirit of the pegasus residing behind it.
Foul. Vile. Disgusting. Evil.
Levi was aware of what he had to do.
He couldn’t waste not a second more.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
A trio of thunks of his knuckles against the decaying metal eased into the stream of quietude. An absolute absence of sound that Levi had come to enjoy, now vanquished by the echoey rapping upon Silver’s cage. Her chamber. Personally, Levi would have immensely enjoyed smiting the rusted, sub-zero bars of a prison cell rather than a cozy office. Relishing in the sight of her sooty coat almost entirely masked by an orange jumpsuit. Her formerly kempt mane now a gladiator arena for rodents. The impenetrable mist of dust throttled her at any chance they got.
Mayhaps that’s where Silver was destined to land. Only time could tell.
“Come in!”
Levi reeled a deep, laborious gust into his quaking lungs. The darkness behind his eyelids smothered his vision. In defiance of the blatant chance for righteous savagery practically dangling in his face like a toddler with keys, his heart lurched with worry. That inkling of anxiety. The foreboding ghost of a doubt in the deep recesses of his mind.
Levi reached his manus out. His palm was mere centimeters away from eliminating the sole barrier preventing the inescapable confrontation. A conflict that was bound to occur from the instant he happened on Spitfire.
This wasn’t an accident. It was the furthest thing from it. It was a deliberate, possibly meticulously planned attack with seemingly no reasoning for it whatsoever. Silver had breached the allegedly secure walls of the Wonerbolts’ base and laid waste to their captain with zero consequences. Judging by Levi’s cold feet and the siren song of doubt seducing him, it appeared it was going to stay that way.
Levi gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Hello?” The bastard beckoned from beyond the entry. Still relishing in the comfort of her chamber.
Dammit!
Why couldn’t he do it?
What was so difficult about laying the hammer of justice down on her?
She was guilty. That was it. Over and done with. No need for any mental gymnastics or second thoughts. No, Silver was a monster. That was the diagnosis. Plain, simple, and clear-cut. No need for a discussion of any variety.
So, all of that still begs the question. Why?
Why is that miniscule flame of uncertainty still alive?
Why can’t Levi generate the courage to twist that bulge?
Why couldn’t Levi do what needs to be done?
Did it need to be done?
Is any of this truly necessary?
Forthcoming sweat stabbed his back as though a blanket of nails were pressing into his skin. His brain was tempestuous, a whirlwind of questions with no readily apparent answers. A ravenous, hungry typhoon laying waste to the previously serene terrain of his mind. The peaceful fields of lush grass that stretched far beyond the horizon were totaled. Harmonious pastures of rational thoughts were a fleeting memory. An echo of a time long before Silver’s dark path paved with savagery crossed Levi’s. It really made the brunete wonder…would his life ever be the same if he took authority? Jurisdiction he knew wasn’t his and didn’t belong to him and yet, here he was. Standing awkwardly at the only thing prohibiting a clash from being given life, a thin layer of anxious moisture turning his stern damp.
“Cloud, is that you?” Her blood-boiling voice arose again, thankfully slightly censored by the thick metal dividing them.
One of two things were bound to transpire in the dangerously near-future.
Levi would saunter inside, briskly confronting Silver with the evidence he possessed, albeit small-scale, but damning nonetheless.
Or he departs from the Dashers’ H.Q. Awaiting Rainbow’s arrival with the utmost patience and returns to the sanctity of his home.
One of those not only downright defeats the entire purpose of his trek, but leaves Silver walking away unscathed. A stark difference from his brutally destroyed familiar wasting away in that wretched stretcher. The rank odor of cheap disinfectant and nauseating medication assaulting her senses.
She had clearly gotten away with it so many times prior to Levi’s pain-staking arrival to Equestria. No one before him harbored the nerve to stand up to her. If Levi left now and turned his back on the bastard virtually within arms reach, he’d not only fragment his promise, but seal the fate of many others down the road.
Any and all inaction at that very moment was ruinous.
Countless fliers would suffer. Families would be shaken to the core.
A reality Levi found sickening.
A reality he would not allow to happen, not while he was alive to fix it.
In one fell swoop, the knob gyrated. And Levi pushed.