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// Prologue: There She Lay 
// Story: The Stupendous Second 
// by Valve Fanatic 
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There she lay. Flat on her back. Every bone and muscle in her body felt as though it had been nailed to a bed of hot coals. Consciousness was finding and eluding her grasp, as if to tease her with the promise of life. Her eyes opened, closed then opened yet again, attempting in vain to view the prison she had for so long been besieged in. Slowly, she rolled onto her left side. Sharp stings of pain raced through each of her bones as she moved them. Her thin, light blue skin was pierced by hundreds of wooden splinters forcing their way into her left arm as she tried desperately to push herself into a standing position. The struggle was immensely painful and by no means worth the misery that plagued her. She gave up hope, released the pressure in her left arm and fell back down to the ground, pushing the splinters deeper inside of her frail, beaten body. Her eyes slowly opened, revealing to her a plethora of blurry, incomprehensible sights. Using all of the miniscule quantities of energy left in her body, she blinked several times over the course of 5 seconds and found herself gazing at a red wooden wall, painted a darker shade of red by blood. Her interests piqued, she gingerly turned her neck 90 degrees and caught a glimpse of a pleasant surprise. 

She spotted a doorway that lead outside to a square courtyard. There were two staircases that lead downwards to an area that she couldn’t see. In the far right corner, there was a tunnel that also lead down into a mysterious place that wasn’t plainly visible. A mine, perhaps? She hadn’t the time to find out. She couldn’t keep straining her neck for more than a couple of seconds, so she returned it to neutral.

She diverted her gaze slowly down to the very spot where she was laying. The wooden floor underneath her was stained a deep shade of crimson. The color being provided from a flesh wound, 6 inches in length to the right of her spine extending from her lower to middle back. 

Her thoughts began racing, as did her heart. She remembered their screams. Their cries of agony. The tears of water racing from their eyes and the tears of blood racing from every other part of their body. She remembered the beauty of the night sky tainted by the blinding light of gunfire and the sorrowful song played by Death sharpening its sickle. The voices. Their voices. She remembered them ever so clearly. 

“We needa’ get her outta’ here, Soldier!”

“Take her, Scout! Get her to safety and make an old man proud!”

They sacrificed their very lives to save hers. But why? She was no soldier. No elite military operative. She hadn’t even the slightest clue as to what horrid method of transport conveyed her to this Celestia-forsaken landmark of death and misery. She clenched her eyes and teeth tightly, suppressing panic-stricken tears and screams. Too inevitable seemed her death to concern her with the intense pain she felt both physically and mentally. 

What if their poor souls had all been eliminated completely? She would have been the catalyst. She could never live with herself knowing that. She lay crying in her exclusive silence. All that could be done in her power was waiting. Hoping. Hoping that somebody was still alive. Hoping that Celestia’s deliverance would rescue her from this torment. She wanted nothing more than to leave this place, where and whatever it was. Without the willpower or physical strength to control any voluntary muscles, she was vulnerable to even the weakest of hostile forces, whatever they may be. She thought, perhaps, that if she could overcome the bleeding agony of her bruised, beaten appendages, she may be able to take to the skies and escape. Although, one significant concern lay in her head. To where would she fly? She knew not her ultimate destination, nor did she care. It wouldn’t be her current locale, and that would be the only important matter. Quickly, hopefully, she continued to roll onto her stomach in order to utilize her wings. Small beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she braced herself for a swift takeoff. Rather than a glorious journey to freedom, however, her attempt to soar into the spotless skies of the wild blue yonder resulted in a very audible crack, and albeit this was strictly confined to her, the torturous throb of several joints in her wing separating. Although it was the exact opposite of what she thought would be ideal for survival in a situation similar to this one, she uttered a loud, high pitched yelp. 

She closed her mouth immediately, hoping that she hadn’t attracted the attention of anybody around, if there were such people. Another wave of intense pain, this time concentrated in her wings consumed a piece of her mind. As she tried exceptionally powerfully to stop the oncoming of screams, or at least sobbing, a third flow of tears set in, flooding her eyes. What was important, however, was that no one was heard. The stress was beginning to impact her. Not simply in her mental state, but in her vital signs as well. Her heartbeat slowed to only 10 or so beats per minute. Her world spun. The dizziness was driving her insane. She closed her eyes, and felt peace. A warm, bright, white light washed over her body. 

“Finally…” she thought. “She’s come to take me.” Oh, but how wrong she was. Her peace in death was interrupted by the ear-splitting noises of heavy machinery. A large, rectangular metal door that she had not previously noticed opened up in front of her. The door was slow, but it was opening nonetheless. As it contracted upwards into the ceiling it began to reveal feet. Human feet. Her heart rate shot back up to a solid 60 beats per minute, and her vision stabilized. She saw a scrawny teenage boy holding a baseball bat when the door opened entirely.

“’ey, fellas!” He yelled, not taking his eyes off of her. “Looks like our company’s still here!”