//------------------------------// // A Little Kindness // Story: A World Apart (Old Version) // by Star Scraper //------------------------------// General Ivory Flame stood on the terrace edge, watching as the distant airfield awoke from its long slumber. The engines of the many heavy bombers and transports guzzled their breakfasts of aviation fuel as they roared to life, the crafts marching around the various pads and taxiways like a colony of army ants. The organized chaos of pegasi directing traffic with marshalling wands, ground vehicles' headlamps, and heavy aircraft navigation lights made a slowly swirling sea of colorful lights in the distant haze. A pink alicorn approached him from behind. “Admiring the sights?” she asked. “With how often you follow me around, Ruby, somepony might get the impression you're my messenger rather than the chief governor of this castle,” he said with a wry smile. She walked up next to him. “Is that a problem?” “No. It isn't,” he replied, turning his attention back to the distant scene. “I saw you on the way home and decided to talk to you. I worry about you, sometimes.” Her expression softened towards him, but he held resolute in his focus on the airbase. “Is this what it looked like?” Ruby perked an eyebrow, following his gaze to the airbase, then back at him. “Is that what what looked like?” “Is this what it looked like on that day? You're older than myself, perhaps you remember what it was like from this vantage point. But how often do aircraft leave here? It was probably just another day to you, nothing significant. We both heard the sound of engines in the distance… But that day was the first time I'd ever heard them in my life. They terrified me. What a monstrous roar they make. Like a pride of manticores, either on a bloodthirsty hunt... or a noble rescue mission.” “I don't remember it... Do you wonder how many will remember these flights? Perhaps among them will be your successor.” “I pray to Celestia that I don't have a successor. This winter has gone on too long. You've been kept from the details, but I know you're not stupid and you've been around enough to figure it out. You know as well as I do that this will be over in a years' time, one way or another.” “So is that the legacy you'll leave behind? The last Cerulean general of the longest night? The one to rescue the refugees from the dome of Vanhoover?” “I don't care how they remember me. All that matters to me, is that they remember me as the last one that was ever needed.” “You wonder how many of them will hurt as you do, don't you? You're still hurt about her, aren't you?” “You never get over losing a sister, Ruby...” A gust of wind blew over them, ruffling their manes with an icy rush while carrying a whiff of diesel. “I was really impressed by the way you pressed for this at the meeting,” she told him. “I'm surprised at how much they opposed it. Even calling you out on your past, saying it made you biased? That was very unprofessional of them.” “'Finem Paenitet and Omina Valore'... They only want what's best.” “What was that?” “An ancient unicorn language. The two phrases, 'the end justifies the means,' and 'always valiant.' Those were things they taught us back at the colony. Too often these soldiers forget the latter in pursuit of the former. But not me. I think there is a way to achieve both, and sending our forces to Vanhoover does just that.” * * * Astilbe sat uncomfortably in front of the table. Silverwing had draped a small blanket over the cloak on her shoulders. The comfort was appreciated, but she still wanted answers, and still struggled to breathe steadily. “Astilbe! She was executed hours ago, now come with me, two dead mares won't make anything better than one! We can't bring her back but for the love of Celestia don't throw your own life away as well. Now come before somepony calls the guard on you!” His logic felt cold, but she had followed anyways. Come on, Astilbe! You've ran right into a line of soldiers before! You've carried a unicorn across four blocks, for pony's sake! You can take some pressure! Get a hold of yourself! Yet she continued trembling, and her thousand-yard stare was undisturbed. She sighed. But not her. She doesn't belong here. She doesn't deserve any part of this. Well it's too late now. I'd might as well accept it. I saved a unicorn, but at what cost? Silverwing re-entered the room with the promised cups of tea. “Now, please take a sip, it will help calm your nerves.” She gladly complied. As she grabbed it, it clanged against the saucer in the grip of her shaking hoof. She struggled to keep from spilling it as she took a sip. A small wave spilled over the lip and ran down the side of the cup from her trembling. Silverwing watched with concern. He continued as he took a seat across from her; “Fiddler warned me you might assume the worst when you saw what they'd done to Rosewing.” “What?” “Astilbe, that's not your guest that was hanged. It was Rosewing.” Her gaze fell to the floor as she returned the cup to its saucer. Once the inane task was complete, her mind spun. Why am I relieved? I shouldn't be relieved! She's dead! Rosewing was my friend and now she's dead!... It's like what I thought earlier. She's a soldier, but Pinkie is too innocent to die in our war. Rosewing knew the risk she ran, but Pinkie... She felt a knot clench in her stomach. “Are you okay, Astilbe? Perhaps it's been awhile since you've eaten? We honestly weren't expecting you'd spend all day in the tunnels.” “I-” she cut herself off. She hadn't expected her voice to sound so broken. But if I can't show myself like this to Silverwing, then who can I? No, I can trust him. I always have. “I meant to be here this morning. I just overslept. Hah. Haha!...” The insincere laugh of irony dropped limp off her face in an instant. “Silverwing, I overslept, and a mare died...” “There's nothing we could have done.” She huffed and slammed her hoof on the table, glaring at her friend; “I could've turned myself in in her place! I could've fought! I could've – I could've done something!” He met her uproar cooly, “She was captured last night. Look, we've had losses before. It's part of what we do. I'm surprised you and Fiddler are having such a hard time with this. You're supposed to get used to it.” “Get used to it? Get used to it!?! As if I'm supposed to stop caring about my friends dying!?” “No, not at all.”  She was taken by surprise at the sudden heaviness in his voice. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room before he continued, “It means you're supposed to come to terms with mortality. We will all die, one day. Ponies die. It happens to every single one. That's not important. The important thing is what we do with our lives while we have them. Fighting to bring the dawn is something worth giving our lives for. That's why we agreed to do this. “Don't mourn our dead, Astilbe. Be glad that they stood valiant until the end for this just cause. Every one of us has a life to give. What will we give it for? For nothing but frivolous pursuits, or for something greater than ourselves? Rosewing gave her life for something greater than herself. That's not something to mourn. That's something to celebrate. She was my friend, too, and I'm going to miss her... But I also want to honor her with how I live.” The rationale was sound. The mare remained silent as her head spun. “I don't know how much longer I can deal with this...” she croaked. “Well, if you're going to start feeling that way, now's a good time. It's obvious that they know what you look like, now. You're too high-profile, too well-known. It's time for you to go to Bastion. Doubtlessly they're hoping to capture you again, to prove 'how dangerous' Ceruleans are, to make us look like some kind of demon that can rise after an execution. It's brilliant, really. We can expect even less to join our numbers when they see you had to be executed twice. We still don't really know how they made Rosewing look like you, but they did.” “The unicorn...” Astilbe muttered. “Yes?” “The unicorn we rescued. She claimed she wasn't a unicorn. I figured it was probably due to trauma or drugging. She definitely seemed out of sorts in one way or another. But... Could it be possible she wasn't actually a unicorn?” “To be honest with you I don't know, but I do know illusion magic exists. I'll bet it's the work of the Blades of Night if it was magic. But that’s not our most pressing concern. My biggest concern now is that you're a publicly known high-profile criminal. Astilbe, it's time for you to head back to Bastion. I've already arranged for a rendezvous. Bring Pinkie, and you'll both be extracted from Alliance-controlled territory at the same location you met to extract the unicorn. Twenty-hundred hours tomorrow. Understood?” She let loose a few uncomfortable chuckles. “You're resigning me? You didn't even ask me first?” He sighed. “It would've been a bit more courteous, maybe, but you and I both know you don't have a choice, now that you're so easily recognized.” “Yeah...” “Now to the task at hoof. What's the story behind this 'Pinkie'?” * * * Snowflakes gently landed on Snowglade's forehooves and the small metal plunger box they were set on. A rifle was slung on her back. A heavily armored train plowed through the fresh snowfall a hundred yards out, at the bottom of the small, snowy hill. “Two... One.” She punched down on the tiny handle, simultaneously using her magic to ensure the charge went down the wire. A tower of orange erupted from the railway, tearing the last two cars off the train with a thunderous, roaring blast that shook the earth. As they shot through the explosion they were sent crashing through the snow, sending up enormous plumes of white slush. Her ears were still painfully ringing, and the train cars thrashing through the snow when Amber Light shot up. Through the painful whine in her head, his voice sounded distant, but the urgency was still clear. “Go, go, go! Flameheart, eyes sharp right-side, Snowglade, stay sharp on the cargo car!” They shot up and darted through the snow. The luxury car came to a grinding halt on its side, its roof only a few yards from the team. “Two o'clock!” Flameheart screeched, skidding to a halt and raising his rifle. The team plunged into the snow. A thunderous bang tore through the air as an orange flash blasted from his rifle. “Contact dropped! Sight's clear!” The shot still rang on the hills as Amber Light barked more orders. “Move left, move left! Flameheart, Redheart, take right-side. Stay sharp and breach on my mark! Snowglade, can you feel any heartbeats?” She used her electric magic to search for the familiar current in the train cars. “No, but it's hard to tell with so much metal!” The explosives had ripped through the cars, shearing their metal and creating deceptive electrical echoes through the material. Amber looked at the cargo car. “Flame! Is the top of the cargo car open?” He glanced up, then at the roof of the car lying on the snow. “Which top?” “Upside!” He shot into the air, then dove back down. “There's a big hatch door. Looks closed and locked.” “Is it armored heavily?” “Yessir.” “Then go bang on it, nice and loud. Keep anyone inside distracted.” “Sir!” He shot up, landing on the cargo car and setting to his obnoxious work. “Snowglade, stay here, Redheart, go take cover by the undercarriage. You two are eyes on perimeter.” “Sir!” They both responded. Redheart jogged around the car, scanning as she went. Loud banging came from the topside of the car. The Sergeant scanned the roofs of the cars, noting that their indoor gangway roof had been torn open in the crash. He leaned in to Snowglade. “Glade, I'm going to breach the end of the cargo car. When you hear the charges go off, pop in that tear and drop anypony who's facing my way.” “Pop in and pop'em when you breach, got it.” He ran over to the end of the train, careful to avoid the view of the small window on the heavy metal door. He slunk low and approached it from the side, timing his hoofsteps with the rhythm of Flameheart's banging. Pulling a small three-set of charges from a saddlebag, he slapped them on the door's bolt and hinges, hiding the sound under the pilot's distracting ruckus. He carefully stepped back, lay low, and set off the trigger. With another fiery blast, the metal door was blown into the snow. A gunshot rang through the inside. Then two more bangs followed in quick succession. “I see'em but they're not dropping!” Screamed Snowglade’s shaky voice. Another shot rang out. The sergeant popped in the doorway; the mess of broken boxes impossible to distinguish in the dark; but nothing moved in sight. He ducked back behind the steel door frame. He bit his lip as options ran through his mind. With the enemies facing Snowglade, he could enter the car and take them from behind with a knife, but crawling through the dark car meant he'd be misidentified and shot on sight by his comrade. “You have one chance! Come out!” He shouted. “There's a dozen of us!” Beside the doorway in the gangway, Snowglade shut her eyes, fighting to steady her panicked breathing. Come on, Sweetie Belle! Get a hold of yourself! As she strained to calm herself, her rifle only shook harder. Silence. “Second unit, target cargo car with the one-five-five millimeter!” Still silence. His team knew he was bluffing, and stayed in place. Come on! Just give up! Give up! She mentally pled the scare tactic would work. She flinched as two shots tore through the car a thousand times louder than thunder. Her ears screeched into her head as they rang. “Identify! Identify!” the Sergeant bellowed at her. She instinctually obeyed, peering over the edge of the doorway, her eyes more adjusted to the dark since sitting in the gangway. This time, she carefully scanned with her magic and her eyes. “Misidentification! Car's clear!” Amber Light looked around his doorway again, noting the stillness of the scene, and seeing Snowglade's small frame in the overturned doorway of light at the far end. “Tartarus! Flameheart! Take far entrance, Snowglade, stay put!” Flameheart shot to his post without a word. Treading through the chaotic mess of shattered and splintered boxes and cargo, littered with Alliance dollars, the sergeant carefully scanned for anything moving. A broken box of bottles, three empty boxes, a mess of shattered ceramic and glass, an area strewn with documents and folders. He quickly stuffed a few hoof-fulls of documents in his saddlebags, then continued scanning. Some scrolled blueprints far too large to take. A pile of smelly wet blankets. Wet blankets? A thick metal collar. A pile of rope. A torn bag of flour, and two limp sacks; one with a spray of potato guts in front of a small tear. There's Snowglade's 'contact'. No soldiers. Approaching Snowglade, he climbed over the sideways doorframe to the gangway, landing next to her. He dwarfed the young unicorn. Her terrified trembling slowed a little as her wide eyes saw the veteran’s stoic, determined expression and firm frame. Yet despite his focus, for a brief moment he couldn’t help but notice her relief at seeing him next to her. She was still slightly trembling, her eyes wide with terror, but she looked up to him, and her eyes spoke their own language. She had never been so terrified, had never felt so small, but she trusted him, and depended on him to get her through this alive. The moment was as brief as it was sudden, and ended just as quickly. He examined the door to the luxury car. No locks. The train had fallen so the door would topple down if he turned the handle, but the wreck had left it skewed at an odd angle. He couldn't be sure it'd open at all. He leaned in to her and whispered; “Glade, I'm going to give this door a firm kick. Go to Flameheart, tell him to breach when he hears the kick. Give a nice blinding flash of light when you breach, too, and identify anypony in there with your magic, not your eyes. Got it?” “Yessir!” She darted out into the snow. He counted to ten as he turned and readied a buck for the door. The momentary silence was unbearable. It was as dead as the howling wind outside. “Hey!” He shouted as he gave the strongest buck he could muster, sending loud clangs of metal as the door toppled into the car, quickly followed by a hissing bang from the far side. “Bodies!” “Any contacts?” “The car's empty! The two bodies are alive but seem unconscious.” Snowglade's small voice shouted. “One of them is a unicorn.” “Snowglade, take post by the roof, keep watch.” “Yessir!” He could hear her huff as she jumped out of the overturned doorway. As he stood up, peering over his own armored door frame, the car’s interior came into view. It was almost as much a mess as the cargo car, except flung bedsheets, furniture, a splintered canopy bed and an enormous shattered mirror made it a better maze of hiding bodies. Nothing was in the Sergeant's sight. “Contact!” Snowglade yelled from outside. “But I can't engage, I can just vaguely feel it coming with my magic. It's far out. From the direction we left Rarity.” Buck! They've already killed our guest! - Or maybe it is Rarity? Not going to leave it to chance. We'd better prepare. “Flame, can you identify the governor!?” “Yes!” Even in the dark car and under a nightgown, the rainbow mane was easy to identify. “Grab her and knife the Blade.” “Sir, it's not a Blade... I don't think I see a horn, even.” He paused. A unicorn? Not a Blade of Night? Maybe no horn? Alone with the governor? “Make sure both the bodies are disarmed, and pull the governor by the doorway, but don't get out.” Darting back to the cargo car, he scanned for the rope. He quickly grabbed it and ran back to the luxury car, tying it in a slipknot, and setting it over the governor's neck. After a brief pause, he took it off, wrapped the rope around the governor, binding her, then setting the last loop around her neck, tying it back into a slipknot. He handed the off-end to Flameheart. “Hold it with plenty of slack. She's your hostage. Hold her in front of you as armor, and make it clear that you can drop her and break her neck if your demands aren't met. Is she alive?” “Yessir.” The sergeant turned, grabbed a piece of broken glass, grabbed the governor's hoof, and sliced it. The governor gasped. “Go!” he ordered. “The contact is Rarity!” Snowglade announced. “Oh, buck,” he said, “Hold the governor like that, regardless. Now she's her own hostage. Stay airborne so it's obvious that if she wriggles her way out she'll just be snapping her own neck.” “Got it!” He took to his wings and hovered outside the car as the governor's eyes fluttered open and she started moaning. The sergeant approached the other body. He wrapped his hooves over its chest and hoisted it to the doorway, struggling to climb up and over the sideways doorframe with the heavy load. Finally, he toppled into the snow with it. Rising up and brushing it off, he realized it was a her. As Flameheart had said, a civilian mare, currently naked. He glanced up at Flameheart. Trying to transport the mare and the governor would be tedious. He'd known since the outset what he would do with the governor, anyways. “Rainbow!” Rarity exclaimed as she approached. Spectrum’s ears perked up as her curious gaze turned to the approaching unicorn. “Who?...” she quietly mumbled. “Break her neck!” He barked. Flameheart let go of his charge, still holding the rope tight. The governor tensed as she fell helplessly bound. Rarity shrieked as the huge length of slack quickly ran short. The governor stopped falling with a sudden jerk as she began to glow with Rarity's magic. “Rarity!? WHAT THE BUCK!? We told you to stay back!” The governor was launched into a fit of coughing. “This is Rainbow Dash! Don't you 'What the Buck' me! What the buck are YOU doing murdering her!? I thought you were soldiers!” “And she's the enemy! - ” he turned to Flameheart “- Put a round through the governor!” “DON'T YOU DARE!” Rarity's shrill shriek turned every head with her unprecedented ferocity. The rope was magically torn from Flameheart’s hooves, and the bound governor was shot through the air behind Rarity, who took a step back to stand defensively over her. “DON'T YOU DARE HARM A RAINBOW HAIR ON HER HEAD!” The Sergeant growled. “Rarity!” The urgency in his voice matched the ferocity in hers. He pointed down the railway emphatically. “There is an army descending on us every second we spend bickering! They're coming after us because of her. If she's dead, they have less of a reason to chase us. She won't co-operate with interrogation, she could easily lie, she's useless to us!” The nurse had re-appeared around the corner. “I thought this was a capture mission. Not an assassination.” “Capture, or assassinate as needed!” The Sergeant barked. “I'm NOT losing another team! Dispatch her, and we can get out of here! We have no way of carrying her and the unicorn. The unicorn's a better mystery.” “I will cooperate,” croaked a beaten, soft voice from under Rarity. She looked down. “You don’t have to carry me. I’ll walk.” “Oh, Rainbow Dash!” She yelled, throwing her bound, nightrobed friend into her hooves. The mare huffed, then continued just as weakly. “Hey. Who are you? But forget that, he's right. We need to get out of here. You can kill me later, I want to tell you what I know. Keep my wings bound, and this noose on my neck and pull me by it. I won't resist. That way you can carry Twilight.” She pointed her head at the unicorn the Sergeant had just extracted from the car. The sergeant glanced around, quickly considering what he'd heard. “One tug on that rope and we'll have you shot.” “Fine,” the prisoner agreed. “Snowglade, get on that ropework. Flameheart, keep your rifle on her. Rarity, are you going to cooperate with this?” “No.” “Sis! Be reasonable!” “No,” she continued, “Not unless you give her more leeway than that. You can't shoot her if she merely gives a tug.” The sergeant seethed in irritation. His head shot side to side, frantically scanning. He noticed the nurse was focused on the conversation. “Redheart, eyes sharp!” He turned back to Rarity; “Yes! That works! Snowglade, help Rarity with the ropework, and drop the governor if she tries to escape. Flameheart, come get this mare.” “Her name is Twilight. She's a good pony. Ehck, you won't take my word for it, but you'll know soon enough,” the governor calmly replied as Rarity and her sister worked her ropes. She didn't as much as flinch as she was handled by their magic and the ropes worked around her. “Twilight? Twilight Sparkle?” Rarity asked. “You know her?” “Yes! But of course! But that's not what she looks like at all.” “She's under an appearance-altering spell...” Rainbow's ears perked up with her eyebrows. “Commander!-” she turned to the sergeant, “There's a metal collar in the cargo car, and there should be a few of my uniform dresses in my wardrobe in the luxury car. Get those and you'll be able to make any member of your team look like me.” “Why would I -?” It dawned on him. “How can I trust you?” “She's telling the truth.” Rarity said. “Twilight looks different – if indeed that really is her. But I don't know how else Rainbow would know her name. Or...” She paused. “You must be Rainbow's alternate, then.” Her ears drooped. “A good question is how do you know my name? Unless you're-” she gasped. “uhg!” Her gasp was cut off as a knot was tightened in place around her neck. “Gently!” Rarity snapped at her sister. The sergeant finished considering it. “Flameheart, use your wings and go grab a few of the Governor's uniform dresses. I'll get the collar. Snowglade! Watch the governor, make sure Rarity doesn't do something stupid. You assist 'Glade, Nurse. Also keep an eye on this unicorn – Twilight – and an eye out for incoming.” “Yessir!” Flameheart was already in the car. Amber Light darted around the undercarriage side to the cargo car. “And Flameheart!” he called out from the other car. “Grab some blankets in there, too, for the unicorn!” “Wilco!” Flameheart re-emerged, dresses clearly stuffed in a saddlebag, and blankets in hooves. With the nurse's help, he began carefully wrapping up the unconscious mare in the thick insulating clothing. “What about me? I thought you weren't planning to kill me.” The governor shouted to him with what volume she could muster, a cold shiver already apparent in her voice as the snow fell on her. He strode out of the cargo car, blankets half-tucked in a saddlebag, and the collar clipped on to another bag. “Is Twilight ready to go?” “Yes!” called the nurse. “Then we're moving. Back to standard positions. Snowglade, magic our tracks away behind us. Flameheart, fly as low as you can with your charge... I'll take point, with our other charge in tow. Nurse, Rarity, you're behind me in that order. Let's go, let's go!” “Contacts! Lots of contacts!” Snowglade alerted. “I can feel at least a few, maybe up to a dozen ponies coming from far out, from down the railway, to the west. At most five hundred yards.” “Double-speed, everypony!” He trotted up to Snowglade, who handed the rope's end over to him. He threw the urine-spotted blankets from the cargo car over the governor. “Directly or indirectly, this is doubtlessly your work. I thought it fair you wore them.” She only looked down at the snow and mumbled. “Now I'm the prisoner, in the same blankets I kept Twilight locked in in the cargo crate for sixteen hours...” He took a few steps forward, she followed, keeping just enough slack that the rope didn't drag. “You make a sound to give us away to your search parties, I'll have you shot in the gut a few times, and in each limb. Then your rescue call will do you little good. But be good, and we won't murder your unicorn friend, and we will be merciful with your execution, and maybe... Just maybe... We may let you live. Understood?” “Yes. But what if I get cold? I'm barehoof.” He put his nose in a saddlebag and produced two pairs of extra boots. “Thank your god we have another pair. Otherwise, I would've just killed you just now. If you start slowing us down... I'll think about what we'll do with you. If you intentionally slow us down, we'll break your tail, snout, and give you a good beating. Good?” She merely nodded gently as the boots were thrown at her. They had made clever use of the single rope, binding her wings and neck securely, but leaving her legs free so she could be pulled along at a walk. She set to work with the boots. “And don't play with your knots. If any of us catch you doing that, we'll go through the fun session I just mentioned. Let's set out, double speed!” She barely managed to slip the last one on before being yanked, sending her sprawling into the snow. The sergeant merely cast a look back at her as she struggled back up, then they set along. “Good heavens, Sergeant, why are you being so cruel to her?” Rarity asked, her face stricken with horror. The nurse merely looked disappointed, and the rest of the team, indifferent. “You haven't lived in this world, Rares. You haven't seen what this monster has done. She doesn't – IT doesn't deserve to be called a pony,” he replied. “Surely, you think differently, Nurse Redheart?” She shook her head. “It's hard to forgive her. I don't think I ever could. But Sergeant, we can't be like this. We can't become just as bad as they are.” “Nurse, with all due respect, no matter what we did with her, we couldn't do anything as bad to her as what she's done to so many civilians.” “He's right,” Rainbow croaked. “I deserve nothing more,” her voice trembled. Rarity and the Nurse exchanged concerned glances. Rarity opened her mouth to speak. “Team, we're going into silence, now,” their leader ordered, “don't forget we've got an army close behind. Keep up.” They trudged into the gray abyss hurriedly as the snow fell heavier and heavier. * * * Fluttershy was thrown onto the cold metal floor, her shackles clanging as she crashed. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind her, leaving her alone in the dark as the sound of boots marched away. “I-I-I'm so sorry!... I'm sorry...” Whimpering, she curled into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. The fear was overwhelming. It felt unreal. She wanted to run, to change things, to have them listen to her helpless pleas. She had heard of it happening, she knew it happened, but it felt unreal happening to her, like a terrible nightmare it would only take enough crying to wake up from. It was all she could do. The battering to her bruised legs had made it hurt too much to sit up properly. She had a vice-crushing headache that made it too painful to think, so instead she curled in a sobbing ball, letting the tears run down her black eyes. “Ar-are y-you okay, miss?” came a weak, gentle female voice from the back of the dark cell. Fluttershy sniffed and looked up. She could only make out an outline. Talking, seeing somepony, hearing a voice – it all distracted, ever so slightly, from the throbbing bruises and stabbing headache. “Who-who's there?” she croaked, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “A-a lot of ponies call me 'ditz'...” the voice said, tapering off. She felt something new. She was tired of being thrown around, of her life shooting away from her grasp. She wanted to scream at it, to buck it, to tell it to stop shoving her around, to stop kicking her and beating her and- I don't want what other ponies call you, I want your name! “But what's your real name?” “Brighteyes.” A bubbly happiness crept into her voice, but was quickly replaced with worry; “Are you going to call me that or-” “Of course!” Fluttershy responded. “They're!... They said they're going to hang me!” she cried, falling into another fit of sobs. It hurt to shut her eyes. “I-it's okay, miss...” She bit her lip, and her ears flattened against her head. An angry shout formed on her tongue, ready to attack the liar for downplaying her pain. “-It's not that bad as long as they only do it once.” “Wh-what?” she asked, disbelief causing her anger to slip away. Then it dawned on her. She knew what Brighteyes was about to say. “I-I've bah-b-been choked a f-few times b-because... Because...” The pause was excruciating. Everything in Fluttershy wanted her to snap; “Because what!?” Why am I thinking like this? Why am I becoming such a jerk? Because I'm tired of these ponies pushing me around! I didn't do ANYTHING and this is what I get!? I-I! I could just!- Brighteyes started crying. You were telling me something useful! But now you're just going to start!?- Fluttershy!? What are you doing? How can you think that?... It scared her to hear her mind turn so violent. She felt her hooves tense, wanting to give Brighteyes black eyes to match her own for not finishing what she was saying. Everything she knew and held in her life had slipped away, and she had even been sent in this prison by her one true friend and governor - the bucking traitor! She wanted to buck and bite on to what little control she had left. Brighteyes was not about to wrench the last bit out of her hooves! Confusion spilled over her. She felt her mind plummet into an agonizing fit of helplessness, fear and anger. She hated herself for her newfound temper, she was terrified of what she felt, she was scared for her life, she wanted to fight and run – from the cell, from her feelings, from everything. She felt her legs shaking – she just wanted to collapse on the ground and cry as her throbbing head spun and tears poured down her face. But she saw something in front of her. A crying figure. She knew what she had to do. I-I can't! I'm too weak! I'm too sore and tired – they're just going to kill us anyways, what does it matter! I'll just – I'll just collapse here and... I can't! I-I don't even know who I am – getting so angry!? How could you, Fluttershy, how could you!? She fought the despair with every pounding beat of her heart. All the agony, confusion, pain and self-hate melted away in two beautiful sentences that soared above the chaos: No. She needs me. Her mind was made up. In defiance to all she thought possible, she managed a few steps towards the huddled figure, her chains clanking as she walked. As her eyes adjusted, she saw more clearly. Brighteyes' light gray coat was as beaten as hers, and her shackles were bolted into the wall. The blond-maned pegasus flinched as Fluttershy approached. Her heart went out to the prisoner, who had clearly been here longer than she had. “It's okay... I'm not going to hurt you...” The mare broke from her sobbing. “Y-you aren't going to beat me?” How dare you suggest that I!- “Of course not.” “B-but... B-b-but they all do...” I almost became like all the other prisoners. Of course they all feel helpless and angry. But... I didn't. “I won't.” “Do you promise?” “I promise.” “W-will y-you...” She remembered what Snowfeather had done for her, and how it had made her feel. This pegasus needed the same. “I'll be your friend.” Immediately a pang of anger hit her again. You'll stoop right down to her level?! You have one chance to be better than somepony else – ONE chance to not be on the bottom! Once chance to not give up what little you have left! It's time to push back! Don't you dare let them put you on the bottom! Stop it, stop it! I'm not like that! I could never! Her pounding head spun. All her pain returned. Her legs clenched. The cold metal floor almost felt like a liquid, foggy blackness. You'll just get angry again and again and nothing you ever do will stop it. You won't be able to hold it back forever – you never had to face me before – you don't know what it's like to hold anger back! I'll just keep coming back until you bow to my will! Give up now and save yourself the fight! You're about to die – why keep fighting? Just give up! Nothing matters now! You're already dead! Learn what it's like to be in control for once in your miserable, bottom-feeding life you stupid slave! Just- She jumped forward, hooves out, and wrapped the gray pegasus in a hug. It was her only hope against the unwelcome barrage of thoughts. Then, something happened. In the midst of her despair, she felt a small spark of warmth inside of her. She had done what was right, and that was all that mattered. “Th-thank you...” Brighteyes whispered into her ear. There were no dry eyes in the cell. They, however, were not afraid. It was a very different thing that they felt as smiles crept over their faces. An odd realization came to Goldfeather’s mind. In all the years she had served under the Governor, and seen and interacted with the Colonel, the Chief of Police, and all sorts of high-ranking authorities in The Order, she had never once seen tears of joy from any of them. But here in this embrace, in this cell, there were many. Do any of those poor high-ranking ponies even know what it’s like to share a warm hug? “It'll be okay, Brighteyes... Everything always turns out okay...”