It was a tremendous undertaking to say the least. Wrought Iron was charged with creating a weapon, something he hasn’t done since he left Stalliongrad nearly 40 years ago. Weapons were not unheard of in Equestria. All manner of swords and knives were put into use from border to border. They were fairly simple. A sharpened piece of steel could be a great peacekeeper in the right hooves, fending off all manner of beasties and such, but this was no simple construct. As Ellis explain the basic premise of the design to the old blacksmith, he gained some apprehensions. Such a concept has never been attempted before because what he described sounded far too deadly to make with good intentions. But, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he didn’t assist Ellis in any way he could. He had made up his mind. It was the only way he could possibly hold his own against such a beast.
The largest and hardest part came first: the barrel. Ellis, with the best of his drawing ability, and penciled out the basic structure of it. Two dense metal tubes melded right next to each other, capable of withstanding extremely high pressure from the inside. He explained that it must be able to contain what was essentially a miniature explosion time after time, shot after shot. Wrought Iron said that this could never be crafted with simple tools.
Nor simple iron.
The aged unicorn made his way down the dusty basement stairs to the storeroom, followed closely by the human. As he opened the creaking, decrepit door, the room inhaled a gasp of air. The area had been untouched by the elements for at least a couple of decades. The blacksmith had no reason to come down here regularly, for none of his plain alloys resided in this room. Oak shelves held a number of heavy crates and other objects the mechanic couldn’t quite name. They seemed to have an arcane presence of wonder.
Iron used his horn to light his way. The room was quite small, complete with a ceiling too low for Ellis to stand straight up. He crouched uncomfortably with his shirt covering his mouth, taking care not to inhale the choking air. The unicorn, however, didn’t seem to mind.
“Here.” He said suddenly. With his magic, he levitated a small crate out of its cobweb-ridden place and set it in front of Ellis. “Over the years of my travels, I have come in possession of a great many things. Some of these things are very precious and valuable, such as this. In truth, I have had no use for it until now. I don’t want something like this to be collecting dust when I die, so I give it to you in hopes that you will use it well.”
With a flash of white aura, the wooden cover came off. Inside were metal ingots of a dull silvery color. They shimmered with a mystical luster against Iron’s magical glow.
“Hol-ley shit...”
“Do you know what this is?” He asked the human.
Ellis slowly shook his head no, mesmerized by the glimmering alloy.
“It is Mithril.”
Light as a feather and strong as a dragon’s scales, so the saying went. Mithril was one of the rarest metals on the planet. In addition, it was a great magical conduit. Wrought Iron obtained it as a parting gift from his mentor. It was more than enough to meet the requirements of Ellis’s weapon. Now, there was the matter of molding it to the desired shape. The process would require vast amounts of magic, so Iron could not do it alone.
There was a knock on the shop door. Ellis made no hesitation to open it for his expected guest: Twilight Sparkle.
“Glad you kin make it, Twi.” The mechanic greeted, smelling strongly of body odor. He has been sweating in the heat of the forge for a few hours by now.
“Don’t mention it. Magic is my specialty. It’s only natural that I come here if I’m going to be good for anything- I mean, do good... for you...” She collected herself. “What do you need me for?”
Iron was the one to answer that one. He was standing over a cauldron of liquid metal, using some of his magic to fuel the fire to make it even hotter. His perspiration came partly from the heat, but mostly from the mental strain.
“We need your magic reserves to help me shape this metal. Once it has cooled, regular tools won’t make a scratch on it. I’ll have to shape it using levitation, but I cannot do so without you as the catalyst.”
“Um... ok.” She replied meekly. Then she got a proper look at the metal itself. Her eyes widened considerably. “Is that..?!”
“Eeyup.” Confirmed Ellis. “Bilbo kin eat his heart out.”
“The unicorns of Stalliongrad would use this technique to shape beautiful metal statues. What we’re about to attempt here is similar, but much more precise. There will be little to no margin of error.” He gave the roaring fire one last spurt of magic. “We must begin right away. I can’t keep it melted much longer. Twilight, direct a flow of your magic to my horn and keep it as steady as you can.”
“What? We’re doing this right now? But... I’ve had so little time to prepare-”
“Twi.” Ellis spoke. “C’mon. Applejack told me you kin put a giant, rampaging bear tah sleep. Yer overqualified.”
Twilight knew he was right. She had no reason to doubt her abilities when her friends believed in her. Nodding wordlessly, she planted her hooves firmly on the ground and lit her horn. It glowed with a potent, lavender-colored magic, then was released in the form of a beam. Ellis had to quickly sidestep to avoid it. The magic connected with Wrought Iron’s blue horn. He shuddered in surprise.
“Find a flow you can keep steady!”
“I can keep this steady!” The librarian shouted.
“Alright! I’m casting the spell!”
He beamed an aura of swirling purple and white into the caldron, lifting the white-hot, glowing liquid out of it and bringing it to a basketball-sized sphere. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the mental image of the gun barrel. The liquid sphere began to shift and fluctuate before their eyes, forming itself into two long tubes. It took a monumental amount of concentration. The barrel widths had to be only slightly larger than the shell, and they had to be perfectly circular throughout. The hinge and the parts that would connect to the furnishing had to also meet the specification on the blueprint to the letter. The floating fluid was starting to take a more solid shape. The image of the double-barrels was becoming clearer. Twilight was beginning to sweat from the strain, but she kept her focus. Iron, however, was drenched in his own perspiration. His body was old and weary, but his honed mind would not relent. When the final shape began to form, the blacksmith strained even harder to whet the finest of details down to perfection. The metal gained viscosity as it cooled in the air
“Almost there!” He cried. The incandescent metal was slowly floated down to the water trough. This was a crucial part. He had to hold the metal in its exact shape while it cooled in the water. The piece was eased into the hissing pool. Steam quickly filled the room, filling the forge with the smell of boiling wind and hot alloy. The surface of the water bubbled and sizzled, but Iron only tightened his magical grip on the part. Finally, the hissing stopped, and he let go. Ellis rushed to catch the weary stallion before he collapsed. Twilight nursed a migraine with her hooves. The steam began to clear from the air. Wrought Iron stirred in the human’s arms.
“I’m alright, Ellis. I just need some rest. With luck, our work has rewarded us.” With some effort, he managed to stand on all four hooves again.
“Lemme see how we did.” Ellis made his way to the still-smoking pool of water.
“Careful,” Iron warned. “It’s still hot.”
He disregarded the warning. “Pfft. I was a dishwasher fer three years back in high school. Ah think I kin take a little ‘hot’.”
Without hesitation, his had dived into the water and pulled out the gun barrel, only to yip in pain and drop it back into the water with a splash of scalding liquid. He winched hard and flailed his rose-red hand around wildly, screaming human-flavored obscenities. Despite everything weighing on her mind at the time, Twilight couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“Ok, Twi, fer the record, HIGH SCHOOL WAS A LONG DAMN TIME AGO!”
“I’m... sorry...!” She squeezed from her lungs between racking chortles. She lay on her back, clutching her sides to keep them from falling apart.
After a few minutes of letting the barrel cool (and Twilight trying to regulate her breathing), Ellis withdrew it from the warm water, letting the excess trickle back into the pool. It was truly a sight. The barrel gleamed like polished silver with a hint of ivory. He held it up to the light and squinted down the inside.
“How is it?” Wrought Iron.
“Perfectamundo.” He caressed the smooth surface with his palm. “Thank ya fer yer help, Iron.” He turned to Twilight. “You too, Twi.”
“But...” She said. “We aren’t done yet, are we?”
“Nope.” Ellis smirked. “Not yet...”
The next step would be the furnishing and the inner mechanisms. The wood stock could be crafted by any proficient woodworker, but the small, moving parts would present a challenge to the blacksmith. He merely beat and shaped iron into tools and such. Making tiny, precise pieces was not his specialty. However, he did know one who could do it.
Wrought Iron regularly provided brass and other soft metals to a clockmaker named Mr. Fob. Watch Fob was his full name. A unicorn tinkerer hailing from Trottingham, he was instantly recognised by townsfolk with this leather-brown coat, blond, shortly-curled mane, and his unusual jacket and rectangular glasses. His cutie mark spoke of two gears--one bigger, one smaller--quietly grinding in motion. Although he and his family had only made Ponyville their home a little less than a year ago, he’s a regular part of the community. The ponies of the town have really warmed up to his charming demeanor, and they greatly appreciate his craftsmanship.
Ellis approached him one afternoon with a plan. It wasn’t the most concise plan; he only knew a little about the inner workings of a shotgun, but he was certain that, between the two of them, they could work out a rudimentary design.
“My word...” Mr. Fob quietly exclaimed. “This seems like a stupendous feat of engineering. I have never attempted a design such as this before, and given your limited knowledge of the matter, we’d be feeling around in the dark on this, so to speak.”
“So... that a problem?” Ellis asked tentatively.
The clockmaker only smiled. “No, this merely presents a learning opportunity.”
They were discussing the specifics in his quaint, tidy shop. All manners of timepieces lined the walls. Tall grandfather clocks, simple wall clocks, pocket watches, wristwatches... the list went on. Most of them even worked. The room was filled with the clicks and thunks of their mechanisms. Bells and chimes went off occasionally, creating a cacophony of machinery as a testament to Watch Fob’s ingenuity. Yes, it seemed a bit egotistical, but this gentlecolt was proud of his work. On his huge table that dominated the center of the room, gears, cogs, and springs were all scattered here and there in a sort of organized chaos. Rattling parchment with framework sketches and mathematical equations almost covered the table like paper-mache. Ellis loomed over the unicorn artisan while he worked the housing according the the blueprints. The specially made brass parts and springs were fit in like a jigsaw puzzle. Even with all the noise of the room, the unicorn was completely focused on the task at hand. Hoof. Whatever.
Days of trial-and-error later, they settled on a double open-hammer design with two triggers neatly set within the guard and a thumb-lever that would open the chamber. Mr. Fob went a bit further and fabricated a mechanism that would cock the hammers in place during reloading, leaving the shooter with only the action of firing. He and Ellis went over the finalization and maintenance of his creation. They tested the stress of the springs and replaced parts as needed.
“This is quite the achievement, if I do say so myself.” Said Watch Fob as he fitted the cover over the housing with a grin, completing the product.
“Credit all goes to you, man.” Said Ellis as he picked up the housing, examining its various parts and getting a feel for the weight. “Yer a bonafide genius.”
“‘Bonafide’?”
“Hellifiknow what that means.” He placed the housing back on the table.
“Well, now,” The clockmaker began. “All that’s left now is the matter of payment.”
Ellis stood there, dead silent.
“Oh shit.” He swore.
Mr. Fob merely chuckled. “I suppose that’s what I get for not arranging a price beforehoof. Don’t fret, Ellis, I’m sure we’ll work something out.”
Ellis breathed a little easier. “Thank ya, sir. Ah can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
He was about to add to that, but was interrupted when he felt a poke through the leg of his pants. Wincing slightly, he looked down. Right at his feet was a tiny, mottled foal looking up at Ellis with big, round eyes and a wooden sword in his mouth.
“Hab ap bee!” He mumbled through the handle.
“Pipsqueak.” Fob chided softly. “Is that any way to greet my client?”
Pipsqueak dropped his mock sword, face burning profusely. “Sorry.”
“My boy’s been pulling this ‘pirate’ act ever since Nightmare Night.” Mr. Fob explained. “He’s become absolutely infatuated with sailing the high seas and plundering them for all their worth.”
“S’alright.” Ellis stooped down and held out a hand to the little colt. “Nice tah meet ya, little guy.”
Pip hesitated for a second due to the human’s overwhelming stature, but those apprehensions were dispersed as soon as he shook his hand.
“Th’ pleasure’s all mine, sir.” He chimed in his squeaky Trottingham accent.
The fate-tossed mechanic couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. He was an adorable little guy, that much was certain, but Ellis also saw a bit of himself in him. The colt was brimming with naivety and childhood wonder. His imagination was afire with a world of daring and adventure, paying no heed to a single worry life would cast at him.
Pip’s father cleared his throat. “Ellis and I were just going over the final details...”
“Hold on, man.” He smirked. “Ah think there should be a ‘Captain’ in there somewhere.”
Fob rolled his eyes. “Oh Celestia, don’t encourage him.”
“I wanted to be the Captain...” Pip whined.
“Sorry, ya look like first mate material for me. But...” He handed the colt his wooden sword back, removed his own hat, and placed it on Pip’s head. “...one of these days, ah ain’t gonna be around to be Captain anymore. Then, that title’l go tah you.”
The hat was a little sweaty, and it obscured Pipsqueak’s vision, but he was enjoying every second of it. Beaming widely, he pushed the bill of the hat up to see Ellis’s face. His expression wavered as he saw the human gazing into the distance, deep in thought. A thousand-mile stare.
“Captain Ellis?”
That seemed to snap him out of it. He looked back at the little colt and gave a half-hearted smile.
“Shall I assume you are quite satisfied with the mechanism, then?” Mr. Fob spoke.
“Yeah, man. It’s perfect.” He paused. “Hey, mind if me an’ Pip go outside for a bit an’ play?”
“It’s fine, but don’t you have more work to do if you’re going to complete this project of yours?”
Ellis took a deep sigh, as if he was suddenly very weary. “Yeah, but none a’ us’r gonna live forever.” He lifted the colt into the air, his hat still covering his head. “Might as well enjoy whatever time we... we have left.”
A giggling Pipsqueak in his arms, he walked out the shop door to their backyard, voice trailing off as he told another story from his past.
“Ah have a bit’a sailing experience, ya know. Me an’ mah bud once built our own raft to float down the river with. We strung up a bunch a’ scrap two-by-fours together, an’ thought that woulda been enough...”
+++++
All that was left was the furnishing and the ammo. For the stock and handle, they went with an unorthodox structure. The handle itself was a pistol-grip style that branched off to the stock from the top and bottom, making an open triangle between the grip and the butt. Ellis said it was something he always wanted to try. The wood itself was a rosy-colored oak to match the dark metal of the housing and contrast the ivory-silver of the barrel. It would withstand a good deal of strain and weathering. With that finished the gun was practically complete. The parts were assembled and the mechanisms were tested. Watch Fob and Wrought Iron stood side-by-side outside the forge as Ellis exercised the break action and the hammers. As it turned out, mithril made an excellent gunmetal. The firearm was light enough that Ellis could comfortably wield it with one hand, arm outstretched. The unicorns would be lying if they said the sight didn’t fill them with pride... and a bit of trepidation.
“It’s missin’ somethin’.” Ellis said suddenly. Mr. Fob nearly choked. Iron merely furrowed his brow in puzzlement.
“What could possibly be absent?” The clockmaker exclaimed. “Its in perfect working order to the letter!”
“Yeah, it is. Fer all its intents an’ purposes, the gun works. The barrel breaks open nicely, the hammers cock back fully, an’ the triggers pull neatly. But, ah think it needs somethin’ extra.”
“And what would that be?” Queried Iron.
“I dunno.” He held the unique firearm up to the light, getting the full picture of it all at once. He ran his eyes down every part, every curve, every surface of the weapon. The mithril barrels shimmered like dull diamonds in the light, while the metal housing and the stock only gave a dark gleam. There. The stock. To Ellis, it felt so... empty. What could it need?
“Ah think...” He began as his fingers brushed along the sturdy, oak tail. “Ah think it needs a name.”
+++++
The last, and probably the most complicated part of the creation of the gun, wasn’t actually part of the gun itself. It needed ammo. This presented a serious problem. While metal and wood could be shaped into virtually anything with proper skills and magic, a shotgun shell was something Ellis wasn’t too clear on. Sure, he had some knowledge on how explosive powder propelled objects (accompanied by rather unpleasant memories), but the inner workings of it were an enigma to him. And, it was clear to everyone that it would take more than one shell to kill a Tank. Back in the library with Applejack, Twilight, and Dominic, they discussed how they would create them from the one he had. Twilight had offered to scrutinize the shell with her magic to figure out how it worked, but, at that moment, Dominic had interrupted and offered to make them himself. Any objection, opposition, or even question was met with harsh shushes and vague explanations. The alchemist took the shell and promptly trotted back to his laboratory. No one has seen or heard from him since.
That was a week ago. Twilight said it was time to check in.
The librarian went first, alone, to make sure Dominic hadn’t hurt himself again. Ellis and Applejack followed her shortly after. The two walked down the dank path that cut through the edge of Everfree. The dirt-covered surface was beaten down more than it should have been. There were fading marks of what looked like fist imprints. Ellis knew exactly what they were. It made him glance toward the forest with sweaty unease. The shotgun was slung over his shoulder in a specially-crafted felt scabbard, courtesy of Rarity. The weight of the weapon on his back made him ease up a bit, but that didn’t help the fact that he was without ammo.
Applejack was faring no better. For the first time in a long time, she tasted the bitter flavor of true fear. Not fear for others, but fear for her own life. Fear that, at any moment, this monster could come crashing through the brush and tear them apart like it did to Ponyville. She feared what she would do if that scenario became a reality. She fear that she would forget her friendship and sprint in the opposite direction. She knew her legs were prone to acting before they think. That instinct came into play with her first meeting with Ellis. The shadow of guilt touched her with that memory once again.
Maybe she was giving herself too little credit. She stood by her friend with every encounter with beasts like the Manticore and the Hydra. The Tank couldn’t be scarier than that, right?
“Jesus Christ...” Ellis swore suddenly, stopping in his tracks. Applejack halted behind him, addled at what could possibly catch his attention.
The smell hit her before the sight did. There, planted right in the ditch to their left was a mangled pile of festering meat. Flies and other carrion-feeding creatures hovered noisily over the rotten flesh and splintered bones. Only a couple parts were still identifiable: a large, chitinous, scorpion-like tail and the head of a lion. The face was twisted into a disfigured visage of rage and agony moments before its death. Applejack clamped her mouth shut, struggling to keep the contents of her stomach at bay, which were quickly surging up her throat. Too late. She heaved on the ground with a disgusting retch. Ellis quickly took several steps back.
“Shit, you ok?” He eased back to the woozy pony’s direction, who was having trouble staying upright on her hooves. Her eyelids were wet.
“Ahm fine, E-Ellis” She regained her stride and carefully stepped around her jettisoned lunch.
“Ah didn’ know ponies could puke...” He took a sniff of the air. “Is all ya eat just apples?”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look like she heard what Ellis had said. Her eyes were fixed morbidly to the ground as she trudged on. The human just bit his tongue back and walked past the Manticore’s carcass.
+++++
The duo finally reached Dominic’s iron and stonework laboratory. Even in broad daylight, the two-story relic-of-a-structure seemed to cast itself an eerie shadow. The building looked like it grew with the dank forest surrounding it, for it held the same qualities of brooding umbra that the trees of Everfree retained. A hazy smoke rose from the cobblestone chimney, adding the only sign of life to the building. If not for that, it would look abandoned.
Outside, right on the front porch, sat Dominic and Twilight. The librarian’s expression implied anxiety. The alchemist, however almost looked as if he was smiling warmly to himself with pride. As Ellis had come to learn, he had a difficult time displaying expressions of joy. That aside, there was a small, round table--weathered to a horrendous quality--neatly propped on the crabgrass. On the surface of the table were four shotgun shells. Ellis was bewildered, to say the least, that the idiosyncratic stallion had been able to produce them. And, in a timely fashion, Dominic would later add.
“Welcome!” He bellowed. “The neigh-sayers have finally arrived. Come to deny the worth of my abilities further, hmm?”
“We’d never doubt ya, Dommy.” Applejack retorted. “It’s just... well... from what ah know, you don’ make too much stuff outta plastic ‘er metal.
Dominic glowered, his robust features darkened further. “Oh, and I suppose the copper instruments that reside in my lab just instantaneously materialized out of nothing.” He ranted sarcastically. “Please, I know my basic metal-shaping. I’d be damned if I’ve lived here long enough and didn’t know how to maintain my distillery. And the plastic? I synthesized it myself. ‘Twas foal’s play.
“The real challenge was actually assembling those parts. Between the housing for the primer and the wadding behind the shot, I believe I had to strain the better part of my intellect to deduce the proper system. I labored day and night just to manufacture these few shells, but I think you’ll find them to be... quite satisfactory.”
Ellis picked up one of the shells. The weight certainly felt right in his hand. It looked like the real thing, too, minus the fact that the bottom casing was copper instead of the usual brass.
“Looks good.”
“Test it, then.” The alchemist insisted, pointing to the crude wooden targets across the clearing, assembled from loose branches and twigs into a vaguely humanoid shape, wooden arms raised. It appeared that the creator of the dummies was trying to mimic the visage of a Tank.
“I... helped build those.” Twilight mentioned.
“Should they merit the desired outcome, I’ll be able to produce more, tailored to better efficiency with the feedback of this test.”
Ellis pulled the shotgun from its scabbard and began to ready it, thunking the shell into the barrel and snapping it close, when Twilight noticed a bright, yellow shimmer from the stock.
“What’s that on the back part?” She asked with a gesture of her hoof.
Ellis turned to her and smirked. He held the gun to better display the golden inlay he commissioned. It was a short, pulchritudinous bout of human lettering that spanned the width of the stock on the right side. Applejack strafed around to get a better view of it, and, just like Twilight, was captivated by its appeal to the eye. Though they could not read it, it look as if it completed the entire image of the gun with flying colors.
“It’s her name, that’s what it is.”
“Name?” Applejack said, puzzled by his notion of giving this inanimate object animate characteristics. “What does it say?”
“Zoey.”
“Zoey?” The farmpony pronounced, the syllables coming off very alien from her tongue. “Strange name.”
“It’s a pretty name.” Ellis replied with a nostalgic smile. “Ah don’t think ah’ve told y’all the story ‘bout the time when me an’ the gang-”
“Ellis!” Dominic snapped. “Stop wasting our time and fire the fausting thing already!”
Red-faced, Ellis huffed and faced the targets. He spread his feet into the proper firing position, brought the stock up to his cheek, and squinted his eyes as he looked straight down the barrel. His finger found the first trigger.
“Y’all better cover yer ears.” He shouted. The ponies obliged, shielding their heads with their solid hooves. Ellis tensed up and squeezed.
What happened next came as an unsavory surprise. There was a flash of blue light, a painful stab to his shoulder, and a loud, booming whistle. The firearm was forced into the air above his head and almost ripped from his hand. As for the target, one of its “arms” appeared to be completely vaporized. The air around him tingled with energy while the azure smoke that rose from the barrel end smelled of ozone. Ellis was wide-eyed and breathing heavily, struggling to recover from the shock.
“What the hell was that?!”
Dominic threw his head back and bellowed out an ugly, rasping laugh that would make a Gorgon cringe.
“You thought it would be mere explosive powder?” He cleared his throat to speak easier. “I could produce that in my sleep. I opted to increase the effectiveness of the ammunition by coupling the powder with raw magic.” He glanced over to the smoking target. “The outcome seems to indicate that I was, again, correct.”
“It damn-near tore mah arm off, man!” Ellis shouted hysterically.
“Yes, I may need adjust the powder-to-shot ratio...”
“COULD YA HAVE AT LEAST WARNED ME FIRST?!?!”
Dominic rolled his eyes.
“I’m surprised, Dominic.” Twilight said, finally able to hear herself.
“That I’ve outdone myself yet again?”
“No, that you didn’t try to make it shoot acid.”
Dominic’s face shifted to an expression of sudden revelation, as if he was struck with the most wonderful idea-
“NO!” The librarian screamed. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!”
He scowled. “Spoilsport...”
By that time, Ellis had already ejected the spent shell onto the ground. The alchemist nearly swooped to pick it up with the other three he had set out.
“Well, I must make haste.” He trotted toward the thick, wooden door of his lab. “I shall have a dozen or so complete in a few days time.”
“But...” Applejack began to ask, wondering how he could possibly make that many in such a short time. Dominic cut her off.
“No questions at this time, I’m certain that we all have much to tend to.”
*SLAM*
*click*
“Ferget Pinkie, Rarity, n’ Lyra,” Ellis commented. “That guy’s fuckin’ king of the nutjobs.”
Twilight sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
+++++
The process of creating the barrel, mechanism, stock, and ammo took the better part of two weeks. While Ellis wasn’t working on the gun, he worked extra hours with his friends Sawdust and Ball-Peen to help rebuild the town. Every day, they toiled endlessly under the hot sun hauling debris and hammering in new wall sections. He sometimes forgot the need to eat and, when the hunger became too much, would even eat pony-exclusive food (some of which he considered pretty tasty). Every night he would come back to the farm, late, and collapse onto the bed, snoring vehemently until dawn, when the cycle began again. Applejack worried about him. Something seemed off. He didn’t smile nearly as much as before. He spent most of his time thinking to himself, not talking to others. She tried not to dwell on it too much, though. She merely focused on harvesting the Apple Family’s prime crop, bucking tree after tree with the conviction of a true workhorse. As she had learned, fretting only caused more problems than it solved.
In the meantime, the regiment of Royal Guards came as Mayor Mare promised. They patrolled the borders of Everfree with caution and keen eyes. Nopony has sighted the Tank since the attack, but the darkened forest sometimes carried its hellish roars with the wild wind. It was still there, that much was for certain. The citizen of Ponyville went about their business as usual, but fear was rank in the air. They’ve all heard its cries, they’ve all seen the destruction it could wreak. The same question was on everypony’s mind.
How long until it came back?
+++++
Hurt. It hurt.
*CRACK!*
It was thwarted. Cheated. Robbed of its prey.
*CRACK!*
It was denied of its relief. Its peace. Its violence. Its murder.
*CRACK!*
It was beaten, bruised, cut, slashed, burned... yet it was not enough. It had nothing but pain now.
*CRACK!*
All because of that puny yellow one.
*CRACK!*
The beast pawed up another fistful of stinking meat and forced it into its maw. Blood and pulp spurted from between its thick fingers, splashing against its face and chest. It stuffed its gory meal past its numb, lolling tongue. The life-fluid ran like ruby streams, cascading over its furiously regenerating flesh. All the while its yellow, insane eyes stared ahead, focused on the direction of Ponyville. It had to keep looking in that direction. It had to remember. Thinking hurt it, but it was no more painful than the agony it has suffered every second of its hellish life. The beast, with all its animalistic instinct, kept thinking of that place and that pony. That pony. It wanted to kill that pony more than anything. That pony... she... nnnggg... with her staring and... nnnggg... shouting...
It clenched its fists until its palms ran with its own blood. That fight was almost faded from its memory. It could remember so little. So little. It couldn’t even remember its own name, but it knew that didn’t matter. All that mattered was pain. Inflicting pain. Receiving pain. Pain, pain, pain. That pony would get her pain. She would get all of it.
Its eyes shifted to the pile of dead meat at its feet. After it had healed, it concluded.
+++++
“So, this poor gentlecolt, after being subjected to one of the worst storms in Ponyville history, came up to my door in what was left of his good dress clothes, and only said ‘I’d like to commision a suit.’” Rarity laughed quietly. “I know I’ve always been wanting to be among high society, but those Canterlot fellows aren’t so sensible when it comes to reading weather forecasts.”
Fluttershy said nothing. The fashionista’s half-hearted smile dissolved away. There was only relative silence, accompanied by the steady beep of the heart monitor. Rarity cast her eyes to the sterile, tile floor. Seeing her timid, gentle friend wrapped up like a broken coat hanger was not something she would seek out, but she owed it to herself to give her company. She was all alone in this dreadfully boring hospital. Rarity glanced back at her charge in the rail-bordered bed. Her leg and wings were strung like a marionette from the ceiling. Her fur was matted and untidy. But, worst of all, was the look in her crusted eyes. They looked as if they belonged to a corpse; staring straight into nothing without feeling nor warmth. It was too much for the alabaster unicorn. The walls came crashing down.
“I’m... I’m sorry, Fluttershy. For everything.” Rarity’s preened cheeks were subjected to a stream of tears. “I should have stayed. I d-don’t know what possessed me to l-leave you with that monster...”
“Rarity.” Fluttershy spoke with nothing more than a whisper. Slowly, she turned her head towards her sobbing friend. “I don’t blame you for leaving.”
“I blame myself.”
“I told you to go...”
“I shouldn’t have listened!”
“Somepony needed to make sure it wouldn’t go after the rest of the town...”
“And look where that got you!” She yelled, all semblance of reservedness and composure out the window. “You almost died! Your heart stopped! It was only by the slimmest chance of fate that you are still alive! And I did nothing but run away! Friends don’t abandon friends! How heartless am I to have you left for dead?!” She buried her eyes in her hooves. “I failed you! I’m a disgrace. A shameful disgrace. I’m no better than that monster-!”
“RARITY!”
Fluttershy had planned to be patient and let her go through the motions, but she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Rarity’s head shot up, eyes pink with grief. The canary pegasus channeled a stern glare.
“I did what I did for your sake, for our friends’ sake, for everypony’s sake!” She raised her voice considerably. “If I hadn’t stopped him, he would have gone to cause even more destruction. I had to do something. If I died back there, I... would have been okay with it.”
To Rarity, that last notion sounded like it was lined with some great emotional pain, but she wasn’t focused on that. She thought that Fluttershy would be the last pony to make a noble sacrifice, to make a fearless stand against all odds. This was a side of her that she had never seen before. It scared her.
“Don’t say that. Never say that.” Rarity clipped. “Generosity may be my element, but in truth, I’m a selfish mare. I can’t take losing the ones I love.” She took the pegasus’s hoof into hers. “I want you to live, Fluttershy. Please, you can’t just throw your life away, no matter how great the cause. There’s always a better way. Just... just live. If not for yourself, then just do it for me. Just know that there ponies who could never live without you.”
Fluttershy didn’t know what to say to that. They sat in silence, Rarity still holding fast onto her hoof. They sat there for what seemed like hours with only the beep of the monitor and the ever so distant sounds of the hospital at work to permeate the air.
“Maybe she’s right.” Fluttershy thought. “Maybe I was too quick to try and throw my life away. I never thought of the hearts I’d break, the grief my death would have caused. I would have made my friends miserable, broken the bonds of the Elements of Harmony, and hurt the ones I care for. I don’t want to hurt my friends...”
“Do you really think he can do it?” Rarity said suddenly, interrupting the pegasus’s thoughts. “Do you really think Ellis can... dare I say it... kill that tortured creature?”
“Yes. I believe in him. He’s done it before, too.”
“But...” The unicorn bit her lip. “He doesn’t seem like the kind who would do that sort of thing.”
Fluttershy remained silent for a moment. She stared at the whitewashed hospital wall, inhaled a deep sigh, and closed her eyes.
“Sometimes the most unlikely of people do the most unlikely of things when they are called upon by fate. We don’t choose our future, we merely combat it.”
Rarity couldn’t bring herself to say anything.
“Fluttershy... that was surprisingly deep. I never took you for the philosophical kind.”
The pegasus blushed. “Oh, it’s just... something I heard from some... pony.”
+++++
Applejack, with her sweat-soaked orange fur, trudged back to the farm from another long day of hard work. The sun was sinking over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the orchard. The leaved rattled in the soft breeze, the grass flowed in waves like a great, green ocean. The cart of apples the farmpony was hauling squeaked loudly, thumping with each rock and divot the wooden wheels passed over. Her muscles were sore and tired, but it was a good pain. Work was exactly what she need to take the stress of the week off of her. For more than a few moments during her apple harvesting, she completely forgot about humans and zombies and Tanks. It was just her and her work. Her and her apples. Eventually, she had to remember where she need to go, where she made her home, and the ponies that were waiting for her. And Ellis. That was hard to forget.
The sturdy barn of the Apple Family finally came into view. The rustic, stalwart building indicated that the house wasn’t far. Applejack’s mouth watered. She could almost smell it from where she was. Granny Smith said she was making some of her famous apple pies, fresh for dessert. She could hardly wait. Then, it’d be a long, relaxing sleep ‘til the morning light.
Something, or more specifically somepony, appeared peripherals of her vision. Applejack immediately recognized the big, red bow bobbing on her head as she galloped closer. Apple Bloom screeched to a stop in front of her older sister, disturbing a cloud of dust in her wake. She panted hard, eyes wet and bleary.
“Bloom, what’s wrong?” Applejack asked, concerned.
The yellow-and-red filly sniffed. “I-I-I don’t k-know, I-I sw-wear. I-I... I just showed E-Ellis that p-picture I found, a-and he g-got all sad a-and angry...” She collapsed and sobbed loudly into her forelegs. Applejack picked her up and hugged her tightly.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry...”
“Shhh... It’s alright. It’s alright.” She rocked her with as much motion the apple cart would allow. “You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. I’ll go talkin’ with him. You jus’ get yerself home and wash up fer supper.”
After Applejack safely stowed the cart away, she went searching for Ellis. It didn’t take that long to find the unique figure of the human casting a long shadow from atop a grassy hill against the setting sun. The farmpony briskly trotted up through the cooling grass to meet him. Ellis noticed her coming and turned his head. His fingers held the small photograph that was previously in Apple Bloom’s possession. In his other hand was the barrel of his newly-crafted gun, stock propped up on the grass. He heard the pony coming to meet him and gave her a lazy wave of acknowledgement.
“Hey AJ. S’alright, you kin come an’ join in. It’s only me an’ Zoey up here.”
Applejack said nothing as she took a seat next to the human. They sat in silence, gazing into the distant sunset as it sank into the mountains. It cast a resplendent orange glow over the grove, washing the chittering green leaves in light, reflecting off the shiny skin of the ripe, hanging fruit. Ellis drew in a long, tired sigh, picture still in hand, gently flapping in the breeze.
“Ah told you ‘bout Zoey didn’t I? The gal ah named this baby after?” Applejack might have, but she couldn’t quite recall. Ellis continued without her response. “See, some time after we drove out of the mall, we came to this raised bridge that we couldn’t lower ‘cause it had no power and there were no generators on our side. Now, there were these three other survivors up on the bridge scaffold. One of them was hurt real bad in the leg, by the way, but one of them... well... ah swear, she was jus’ the purdiest thing ah ever did see. Man, she just had these eyes... and this hair... and her face... and the sweetest voice... it’s kinda hard to explain, but ah swear if there was such a’ thing as ‘love at first sight’, that’d be it. Ah was thinkin’ we’d get together and get straight to the marriage part, ‘cause the zombie apocalypse don’t make no room for datin’...”
Ellis’s story petered out and silence reigned yet again.
“Ah miss them.” He said finally. “Coach an’ Nick an’ Ro. Ah miss how Coach would talk about food all the time an’ make us all hungry. Rochelle didn’t say much, but she was real nice to me.” He laughed inwardly. “Hell, ah even miss Nick, that asshole...”
His smile faded as he held the picture up. “But... ah miss him the most. Ah... ah just... you can’t have a friend like that ever again, AJ. He was one-of-a-kind. We were brothers. Ya can’t jus’... ferget him like that...”
Ellis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the tears that would come. He hated crying. He was tired of crying. Applejack pulled herself closer, wrapping her tail behind him.
“Nopony’s askin’ ya to forget him, Ellis.”
“Ah know... ah know...” He sniffed hard. “Sometimes ah wish ah could, but I couldn’t imagine what mah life would have been without him. Ah mean, he’s the guy who got me into cars in the first place, and our band name,” He tapped his “Bull Shifters” shirt. “That was his idea, too.”
He stared at the shiny photograph once more. He looked at Keith’s smiling face next to his own. Those times felt so distant, like ancient history. It almost hurt. Never once in his time with him had he ever considered what life would be like without him. The tears swelled again. He held them back. He hated crying. Ellis laid his shotgun on the soft, vegetated carpet and used that arm to pull Applejack against him. The orange pony drew a breath in mild surprise, but stayed calm as the human buried his face in her stetson.
“Ah don’t think ah’ve ever properly thanked ya fer everythin’ ya done for me.”
She blushed. “Oh, s’nothin’, really...”
“Naw, girl, ahm serious! Ya gave me a home and food, ya helped me get a job, ya stuck up fer me when everyone else was scared a’ me, and you dragged mah drunk ass home that one night.” He removed her hat so he could see her smiling face under the brim. “Yer the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Applejack looked perplexed. “What about Coach an’ Nick an’ all that?”
Ellis snickered. “They’re good friends, but ah don’t even think Coach would wanna give me another piggyback ride.”
“...And Keith?”
The smile disappeared. His eyes returned to the photo.
“Keith’s gone, that’s fer sure. Only took me a month an’ a couple days in another world tah figure that out. He ain’t comin’ back.” He bit his lip and allowed himself a moment to recover. “Ah know he’s gone, but... ah’d still give anythin’ just... just tah see him one last time.”
+++++
“War... War never changes...”
In a dim room that smelled of burning sugar, she waited. She prepared. With scowling eyes she sat with patience, whittling away the time. When her mane got in the way, she tied it back. When sweat got in her eyes, she donned a bandana. She covered her face with her own brand of warpaint: dark-pink frosting. Tongue in hoof, she ran it along the end of a candy cane over and over with a consistent slurping sound. She brought the tip to her face. Satisfactory. She rolled her tongue back into her mouth and sheathed the shiv in her vest, where a multitude of other candy-based arsenal was tied to her body. Three large jawbreakers were attached to her hip, decorated with grenade spoons and pins. Around her shoulder was a bandolier of cylindrical packs of o-shaped candy. She had candy-necklace dog-tags dangling around her neck. Strapped over her back was... well... the surprise.
She bit into a wad of taffy and chewed. Slowly. She savored every chomp of her jaw like everything she ever hated was nestled between her teeth. Her hoof tapped on the floor impatiently. A chalkboard stood next to her. Scribbled on it was crude battle plans and a list of goals. A small alligator, dressed up in army fatigues and a tiny helmet covering his eyes, stood on the sill of the board, phlegmatic as ever. She swallow the wad of melty taffy and put a pink, bubblegum cigar in her lips. She thought of him, the monster. That’s all the thought about. How she would teach him a lesson. A lesson that was carved into the very earth everypony stood on. A lesson that was embedded into the very laws of reality itself:
Nopony messes with Pinkie Pie.