//------------------------------// // Welcome Back To Hell // Story: The Long Lost Rainbow // by Ribe_FireRain //------------------------------// Stockholm. Stockholm was were they had taken his sister, and he was going back there. That place filled with poverty and sin; where he was raised as a killer - a gang member - something he wasn't meant to be. During the flight there, he couldn't help but be forced to think of the horrific memories that it made come flood back to him. The murder of Granny Pie, the initiation, the blood being spilled, the crime around him, the deaths... he just didn't want to think about it. The more time he spent flying, the more time those thugs he used to call his ''family'' could be hurting her. Or worse. Going over the poverty-filled excuse of a town, he noted that it was still the same the day he left. On the streets he could visibly see criminals doing raids and shooting one another, spilling blood along paths and dirt roads. Even the stench of the settlement was able to be smelled from the altitude he was flying at; that strong stench of booze mixed with the smell of death and blood. It was just inescapable. He knew it would haunt him forever. Landing down in the streets just outside of the warehouse his gang used, Strike prepared himself. All he had was the knife in his holster and nothing else aside from it. Not even his pistol. He mentally slapped himself for not taking it. Well done, Strike! What if you lose the knife? What then? You're screwed! He took the knife from its sheathe and looked at it, the dry blood making him cringe. He remembered who it was from and why he did it - to escape the hellhole he was now back in; the place in which he learned to become a criminal in. He didn't regret it, although killing felt so wrong to him, and he knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he didn't see a way around it. He looked at the handle, seeing his gang name carved into the wood. Striker. To say the least he hated the name. He wanted no part in their sick little gang. He just wanted to be with his parents. Just staring at the name made him scowl in disgust. Staring at the name in silence before putting the knife in his mouth, he snarled, ''I'll never be one of you murdering scumbags.'' *** *** *** The warehouse was just as Strike remembered it: Dark with the strong scent of whiskey and blood. He trotted through it wearily, knife in his mouth at the ready. He took his time getting through, not wanting to get caught and killed before getting to his sister. Although he knew that he was a good fighter, the thought of killing made him cringe and send chills down his spine. In the room were tables laden with empty and half-empty whiskey bottles, some on the floor and smashed and some intact. Cigarettes litter the floor, mixing in the the spilled beer and pockets of blood. ''Rainbow? Can you hear me?'' Strike whispered softly through the knife in his mouth, only getting the silence around him as an answer. ''Rainbow?'' ''Striker? That you?'' A deep, masculine voice called out from the depths of the warehouse in the dark. ''What are you doing here?'' Strike froze. He looked around him, seeing nothing, making him feel weary, a chill running down his spine. ''Hello?'' Strike asked softly before hearing hoofsteps behind him and then a young buck emerged from the shadows. His mane was styled in a way similar to Strike's own and was colored a rich hue of indigo, and his coat was a jet black. Around his body was a black cloak, the hood covering his eyes. He withdrew the hood, revealing a pair of midnight blue eyes staring back into Strike's, making him step back a bit. ''Midnight?'' ''Hello, Striker. Mind telling me what you're doing back here?'' He asked him, keeping his eyes locked on Strike's green ones. ''Midnight...I...I...'' Strike stammered, unable to find his voice, ''I...I'm looking for my sister. Where is she?'' ''Ah, you mean Rainbow Dash, don't you? Hate to break it to you, Striker, but she's unavailable right now. She's a bit 'busy' at the moment.'' He chuckled evilly. ''What the hell have you done to her?'' Strike shouted at him, his blood beginning to boil. ''Where is she?!'' He smirked at him, drawing a large combat knife from a holster strapped to his side. ''I wouldn't start anything if I were you, Striker. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you little sister now, would we?'' ''I swear, if you hurt her, I will cut your fucking head off!'' Strike yelled at him, drawing closer to Midnight. ''Honestly, Striker-'' ''STOP CALLING ME THAT!'' He snapped at him, ''My name is NOT 'Striker', its Rainbow Strike! That life is behind me now, and if you keep calling me that, you best sign you death warrant, because I will rip you head off with my bear hooves, damn you!'' ''Ah, you still have it in you, Striker. Your attitude hasn't faltered one bit.'' ''If you don't tell me what you've done with my sister, I swear I'm going to kill you! Last chance!'' Midnight just sighed, took his cloak off and threw it aside then forcefully kicked his rear legs into Strike's chest, sending him flying through the air and into a few wooden crates that collapsed when he landed on them. He laid there on the floor, struggling to get his breath back, and from that blow to his chest, he knew that something must of broken. Strike struggled to get to his hooves, and just before he could, Midnight came into view with a murderous intent in his eyes. Midnight came forward and grabbed Strike by the shoulders, throwing him against the wall with a thud that echoed around the warehouse. Strike would of screamed, but the broken rib in his chest didn't allow it. ''Come on, Striker, I thought you were tough.'' Midnight snarled at him. Strike got up, blade in his mouth and took a few aimless swings at him, but being as fast as he was, Midnight jumped out of the blades way, landing behind Strike, his own knife at the ready and slashing at Strike's hide. Only one slash cut into Strike, cutting horizontally across his flank. It was deep, but Strike has had worse. Quickly, he turned around and delivered a sharp blow to Midnight's side, sending him sprawling across the floor, but he quickly recovered from it. ''Just back off, Midnight! I don't want to fight you! I'm only here for my sister, not to kill a scumbag like yourself!'' Strike wheezed as he coughed up a small pocket of blood. ''Aww, giving up so soon? Come on, lets see what you're really made out of!'' Strike sighed. ''As you wish.'' Quickly, Strike raised his hoof and a small 'pop' filled the room. Midnight's eyes widened as he stared down at his chest, seeing a small hole in the middle, blood oozing from it. In seconds, he collapsed to the floor, saying one last thing before he died: ''Not...possible...'' The small gun on Strike's arm was one of his own creation, and the particular one he used is the same one that saved his ass when he was on some missions when he was an Element of Crime. The lovingly stroked the tiny barrel of the gun and gently loaded another armor-piercing round into its chamber, ready to kill the next target: Whipper. *** *** *** Deeper into the warehouse, Rainbow Strike made his way near the back - to the place where they'd plan raids and store their loot. However, when he got there, the room was pretty much empty. Confused, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining it, but when he opened them, it remained the same. Nothing was there. He turned around to leave, and as he went along his way, he heard a scream echo through the building. A feminine scream. Rainbow Dash's scream. Panic coming over him, he followed the pained cries and ran to the room where it was coming from. Inside, he could hear her crying. Peaking through the rotten wood, he could see his target. Whipper was in the room, driving a knife into her left hoof and twisting it, her blood covering the floor all around the front of the chair she was strapped to. Anger overtaking Strike's mind, he forcefully beat in the door, shattering it. Stomping towards Whipper, whose attention was now all over him, he drew a knife and placed it beneath Whipper's throat. Their eyes stayed locked for what seemed like an eternity, and for some reason Strike couldn't place, Whipper smiled at him, and behind him, he saw the reflection of a black coated and red-maned buck come up with a knife, ready to slash at him, and right before he could, Strike, pulled his hoof out, and before the buck could react, he shot the small-caliber round into his eye, knocking him down without a sound. ''Well, you finally got here. How nice to see you, you traitor.'' Whipper said dully, lifting up his shades and resting them atop his head. ''Its a shame you couldn't get here earlier. The party started a couple hours ago.'' ''Shut up! You're the traitor, Whipper! You turned your back on me and killed my mare! I at least have a reason to be doing this. You however don't. You kidnap my sister and then you torture her? You're sick! Only one of us are leaving here alive tonight, you murdering scumbag!'' ''You think so? We'll see about that.'' As fast as he could, Whipper pushed the knife from his throat and quickly punched Strike hard in the jaw, knocking him down to the floor with a dull thud. Scrambling back to his hooves as fast as he could, Strike charged at Whipper and pushed him back-first into the wall, punching him in the face, knocking his shades from his head and shattering them as they fell to the stone floor. They both stared at each other with hate, it clearly showing in their eyes as they fought each other, throwing punch after punch. Strike being a fair bit stronger than Whipper pushed his hooves as hard as he could into Whipper's throat, pinning him to the wall as his air supply was being cut off. He thrashed around in pain, trying to get out of Strike's grasp, but he was too strong for him to overcome. As he flailed around helplessly, he directed his rear hoof into Strike's chest, forcing him to release his hold around his windpipe. Strike coughed and hacked, blood sputtering from his mouth and running down the length of his lip and chin, dripping its way to the floor. His chest burned, and he felt like his broken rib had hit one of his lungs, making him unable to breathe properly. Now Whipper stood over him. He just stared into Strike's pained eyes almost as if he could read them. And then he stomped a hoof onto his chest, causing him to cry out in pain as tears trickled down his cheeks. His hoof pushed down harder and harder, and for a moment, Strike thought he could feel his lung collapse...well, something seemed to give out in his body... Strike's vision seemed to turn black in the edges of his eyes, and just before he thought he was going to die, Whipper's hoof retracted from his chest, allowing him to breathe. Forcing himself back up, Strike grabbed his knife from the floor and slashed Whipper's chest with it, making him stagger back as blood started to seep from his wound. He slashed again and again, nearly all of his strikes hitting him in the chest, but just before he could slash him and end him for good, he saw a high-voltage electronic wire on the wall, and he carefully aimed for it, throwing the knife at it and splitting the wires, causing all the lights in the room to go out and only be lit from the light coming from the doorway. Grabbing the wires, sparks rapidly zapped and nipped at Strike's hooves, and then he brought them to Whipper's neck, shocking him in a flurry of electronic sparks and zaps. Whipper screamed for the longest time as pure agony swiped back and forth over his body, his blood curdling screams echoing all around the room and the warehouse. As he electrocuted Whipper, some of the sparks hit Strike, making unbearable pain ravage throughout every inch of his body. After what seemed to be hours, he withdrew the still sparking wires aside and fell over the same time as Whipper did. Both his and Whipper's body were smoking and their mane and tails hairs sticking up all over. He almost didn't hear the scream of Rainbow Dash as she came up to him and tried to help his near-lifeless form up. *** *** *** Rainbow Strike felt like he was in a deep sleep, his body feeling strangely cozy and his mind at ease. To say the least he felt good. Better than he has in years. His body may be hurt, but he was still cozy nonetheless. His eyes fluttered open weakly, and when they were open, his vision was a little blurry, but he could make out the fact that he was laid up in a bed, a heart-monitor beeping softly next to him. His front hooves were covered securely in bandages and he had more of them wrapped around his left flank, lightly stained in blood. When his eyes focused, he could clearly see some rather worried friends of Rainbow Dash looking down at him. Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy looked at him in the same way, if not relieved to know he was alright. ''Oh, thank Celestia, you're alright.'' Applejack sighed in utter relief as she gently hugged him along with Fluttershy and Rarity. ''Ugh. W-What happened?'' Strike said groggily. ''You were brought in some point this afternoon, and you were in pretty bad shape. I don't think I've ever seen somepony look that battered up before.'' ''Wait...where's Rainbow Dash? Is she alright?'' Strike asked, upon suddenly noticing she wasn't in the room. ''Oh, yes, she's fine, darling. She's actually in another room at the moment.'' Rarity said, but paused upon seeing his saddened and worried expression. ''Is...something the matter?'' He looked down at his hooves, and softly rubbed his eyes with them before responding. ''I need to see her...'' ''Don't you think that can wait? You're in bad shape, Strike.'' Fluttershy said in her usual, beautiful voice. ''No, time isn't gonna wait, Fluttershy. I need to see her.'' He pulled down the sheets and slid his way off the bed and to his hooves, but fell over as searing pain shot up his two front hooves and he fell flat on his face. The other three gasped in alarm as they watched him struggle, and then Rarity levitated him back into his bed. ''You shouldn't try and walk for a while, darling. Your hooves were burned up something bad when you were brought in. Come to think of it, how did you burn them like that?'' Strike paused a moment as he thought about it. The electronic wires that he used to electrocute Whipper. When he was shocking him, he had no idea that it was getting him too. Apparently, the sparks burned up his front hooves badly... ''I'd really rather not talk about it, Rarity. I want to forget about it.'' ''But why, Strike?'' Applejack asked him quietly, ''Did...something bad happen? From what Twilight told us, you left in a hurry after she told you Rainbow was ponynapped.'' Strike visibly went a little pale at that. He sighed softly through his nostrils and looked up at Applejack's worried expression. ''Yes, Applejack. Something bad did happen, and like I said, I don't wanna talk about it, alright? Can we please just drop it?'' He said in a semi-angry-frustrated tone, taking Applejack aback. ''Strike-'' ''NO! Not talking about it!'' ''But-'' ''No! Don't try it!'' ''Strike!'' ''What!? Goddammit, just drop it already will you? Gah!'' Strike huffed as he crossed his hooves. ''Simmer down a bit, would you? You sound like you're going to melt in anger, sugarcube.'' Applejack nudged his side with her muzzle. ''Look...I'm...I'm sorry about that, Applejack.'' Strike said as he pulled her in and hugged her softly. ''It just brings back awful memories.'' He looked at his hoof and saw his custom pistol was missing. ''Hey...who took my gun? I could of sworn it was on my hoof not long ago.'' ''It was taken off you hooves when you were brought in, Strike. What were you doing with a gun, anyway? I didn't even know you owned one.'' ''I built it myself. A stealth pistol. I took it with me when I went to get Rainbow back.'' A single tear ran along the length of his cheek and he laid back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. ''Can I be on my own a moment? I'm gonna need a little time to get over a few things...'' ''Sure thing, Strike. See you tomorrow, okay?'' Applejack said with a small, sad smile as she hugged him farewell. Once they were gone, Strike hugged himself in a small ball and cried silently, cradling his head in his bandaged hooves. When he turned on his side, he looked at the bedside table and saw a note stuck on the lamp. Strike, Thanks for saving me. When I saw you there, not moving after I untied myself from that chair, I thought of the worst. Hopefully you will be out in the morning. I left you Dad's old guitar so you'll have something to do while you're laid up. I hate hospitals, too, so you're not alone there. -Rainbow Dash Leaning on the table was indeed his Dad's guitar. He picked it up in his hooves, careful not to hurt them as he held it. Gently, he plucked the strings, playing a song that he used to play for Remedy.