A/N: This is just to give a little backstory on how the shadows came to be. I'm currently working on the next chapter, but I decided to upload this separately. So don't worry Zoom_The_Kid, your big appearance is just over the horizon (God that sounded better in my head)
Meg's POV
I was with Ryan, Marco, Paul and Maggy, doing the usual thing. Shoplifting, pickpocketing, all sorts of stuff that was frowned upon in society, though we did these things not out of rebellion, but out of necessity. All of us had grown up in the orphanage together, and when we left, we swore we'd never go back. We still haven't. Paul doesn't want anything to do with the orphanage. He went through the worst of it, always being told his dreams of being a musician were nothing but a waste of time. He never let it disuade him though. He always kept practicing with his guitar. Marco was always using those two wooden swords he made. Laughed my ass off when he knocked out the orphanage's biggest bully with one blow, and all he said was “How the fuck did I do that?” before he got dragged away for 'Discipline', or as we called it, the 'Drowning Game'. They'd put us in the tub and submerge our heads until we lost consciousness, those bastards. Maggy was always using that yatteko she had, being paid to perform amazing feats of marksmanship, such as shooting apples off people's heads with plungers for arrows at various distances, and more often than not, shooting miniature self-made arrows into the arses of wankers. She always did like to make those assholes suffer. Ryan, he was always adamant about getting some practice with his battle rod, as he called it. All of us had something left to us by our parents, and they were important to us, but that staff seemed to mean the world to him. I know Paul's dad bought him the guitar before he died, Mag got the yatekko from her mom, Marco had two real blades which, unsurprisingly, he never used, and even I had a pair of nunchucks my dad got me from a trip he took. But that staff, it was apparently a family heirloom. It even had his family crest on it, a shooting star. From the looks of it, it was supposed to be able to be fitted with various implements for use in a fight, though I doubt he'd actually use them. He just wasn't the type. He rarely made trouble, and even when he did, it was never that much trouble. He was the voice of reason in our little group. He was the one who suggested we just leave, stating that no matter what we said, the police wouldn't listen to us. He was right too, the last time the police had been called over, the poor kids who'd blown the whistle had been told off by the cops for lying, when everything they'd said had been true. The worst part was, afterwards, they were made to play the Drowning Game, then thrown out into the street. Somehow they managed to survive, and we even met them occasionally when either side needed some help. But enough about our pasts. We'd been having an off day. People had become more alert and cautious, so we found ourselves more often than not running from some pretty angry people. It wasn't a total waste though, since we managed to scrounge up enough money to keep us from starving for another day. So we went to our favourite spot. NO, I'm not gonna tell you which spot, that's our secret, for us to know and you to not find out. Anyway, we got our usual order, and after a good hour of eating, drinking milkshakes and being as merry as we could, we left to head to our makeshift shelter. By then, a storm had come in, and it was bad. We made it about halfway home, taking the shortcut through the park, when we heard a loud SNAP! We turned around just in time to see this massive tree falling down on top of us, and all we could think was Fuck it! A tree? We nearly get drowned almost every night in that damn orphanage, we barely manage to avoid being hit by cars when we run from angry people and cops, and this is how we die? Crushed by a goddamn tree? The last thing I remember adding to that thought was Well, at least I was still sexy when I died And then there was nothing but the blackness of oblivion.
I woke up in a huge white expanse. I looked around to see the others were here too. They were still asleep, so I woke them up the only way I knew how. “HEY GUYS, I'M SEXY AND I KNOW IT!”. It had the desired effect. They all woke with a start, all mumbling something about 'Inflated egos'. It was then that we noticed our gear. We had the last things our parents had left us. My nunchucks, Paul's guitar, Ryan's battle rod, Maggy's yatteko, and Marco's twin blades. While we were wondering what happened and whether or not we were dead, some old guy dressed in pitch black robes appeared and started talking. “Good, it seems my new shadows have awoken”. They all looked to me. God, I hate being the diplomat, but I'm the only one sexy enough to do it, I guess “Alright, I think I'm speaking for everyone when I ask who the fuck are you, where the fuck are we, and how the fuck did we get here?”. Too much emphasis on the f word, I know, but I was pissed, understandable, right? I mean, it's not every day you die, and find yourself staring at a creepy old guy and being called his shadows. “My apologies, but I need some individuals that meet, 'Specific' requirements, so that I can fulfill my goal, and you five happened to fit the bill perfectly, so I organised your little 'accident'”. “YOU BASTARD! WHAT KIND OF SICK FUCK KILLS A BUNCH OF KIDS?”. “You're not dead, you're just going through a form of rebirth. When you awake, you will be in a new land, and you will have new forms and abilities. All I ask is that you eliminate a certain, 'acquaintance' of mine. He will have allies, but you can do with them what you want. Just kill that one boy, and I will return you to your world, with much better circumstances than you lived in previously. So, do we have a deal?”. “NO FUCKING WAY! I DON'T KNOW YOU, I DON'T TRUST YOU, AND I DEFINITELY DON'T KILL PEOPLE, SO YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF!”. “Fine, I guess I have no choice”. He raised his hands, and suddenly we all convulsed in agony. “When I am done, your personalities will be what I want them to be, and you will obey my orders without question. If you try, you die, simple as that”. It took so long I thought we'd never see the end of the agony he was forcing us through. But eventually we could move again, but when we did, we weren't who we used to be. He'd warped our personalities to suit his sick, twisted desires, and we became his shadows. That's when he sent us to Equestria. With one simple order: “Kill Stephen Cleary”.