Born to Light

by Mailbox_of_d00m

Chapter 11: Selection

The city of Baltimare, on the outside, appeared to be the epitome of utopian progress. The economy was booming, the buildings were state-of-the-art, and the streets were unimaginably tidy. Though it was not known to everyone, however, the city's image of a perfect society actually belied a crime ring so large and ruthless that even the entirety of the Canterlot Royal Guard would have a hard time suppressing it. But, perhaps, "rough" is an understatement. Anypony who happened to set foot alone into an alley or other remote location had a 96.7125138% chance of being mugged...or worse. It was the knowledge of this crime ring that kept most visitors out of Baltimare. It was the knowledge that could even drive a patrolling pegasus to flee in terror and deliver a falsified "all clear" message. This was why residents called Baltimare the greatest faҫade in Equestria's history. Yet, despite all this, Baltimare was Postal Code's birthplace, and the events occurring within this city would be what set his story in motion.

***

"Yes! Only five more minutes until I'm finally free!"

The teacher was still belaboring Equestrian History, trying to teach one final lesson, but Postal Code couldn't take his eyes off the clock. Just five minutes until he would no longer be a senior at William Hoofinger High School. Finally, after twelve long years, he would have a chance to rest. He would finally have the time to sleep in, or learn a musical instrument, or even practice sketching. However, one thing continued to haunt him: college. All of his fellow seniors had already applied and been accepted into their respective college choices, but Postal Code planned to take a year off and rest. His friends consistently reminded of him of his screwing himself over – the college application process was exponentially harder if not done during or immediately after high school – but postal Code felt that he deserved a chance to rest. Besides, he had a great resume, a stellar transcript, and even a bit of work experience under his metaphorical belt, so he doubted he would have a hard time even then.

3:00. The bell began to project its usual high-pitched ringing. Immediately following was a mass mob of students galloping though the hallway – had anypony tripped and fell, he or she would have been trampled in seconds. Postal Code joined the crowd as he pondered his schedule for the rest of the day. He quickly remembered what he had been wanting to do all day: meet with his friends and plan an end-of-school celebration.

Halfway across the hallway, Postal Code noticed a young stallion with grey fur and a lime-green mane. The stallion appeared to be standing and staring at the wall – at the point, Postal Code already knew who it was. Postal Code called out: "Um, Question Mark? What the hay are you doing?"

The stallion replied, "I'm standing here, staring at a wall."

"May I ask why?"

"What? Is there some law or something that says I can't stand around and stare at walls?"

"Well, no, but–"

"I rest my case."

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Question Mark. He may have been one of Postal Code's childhood friends, but even to this day Postal Code still could not comprehend him. Question Mark's entire being – his personality, actions, etc. – were impossible to understand. His cutie mark could have been a last resort in figuring out something about him, but even that was useless; it was the number five atop a grey rhombus. But despite his incomprehensible nature, Question Mark was overflowing with charisma and easily got along with just about anypony.

Changing the subject to something with actual relevance, Postal Code inquired, "Anyway, do you have any idea where the others are?"

"Well, knowing Lionheart, he's probably saying goodbye to all of his teachers. Striped Saint probably forgot about us in his excitement to leave."

"Hold on a second. Didn't I ask you to keep everyone together, because you all have classes in the same relative location?"

"You did, but as you could see, I changed my mind about my responsibilities and decided to stare at this wall."

"As always, you continue to baffle me. But that's besides the point. Do you think you'd be able to find Striped Saint if I go after Lionheart?"

"Well, he is more exciting than this wall, so I'd say so."

***

Lionheart may never have meant to do so, but he always led his friends into wild goose chases. Postal Code searched through the entire building with no luck, but that was before he remembered Lionheart's typical after-school location: the art rooms. Lionheart could sustain a conversation with his now-former art teacher for hours on end, so postal Code usually found him there. This time was no exception.

After joining a lengthy and inspirational conversation with the red-furred, blue-maned, abnormally polite stallion and his former art teacher, Postal Code directed Lionheart to the front lobby so they could hopefully meet up with Question Mark and Striped Saint. "It's about time!" exclaimed a white pegasus with a jet-black mane containing a single orange stripe down the right side. "we've been sitting here for, like, thirty-five minutes!"

The youngest of the four (while others were entering college, he was only completing his freshman year), Striped Saint tried his hardest to fit in with the group. Of course, his definition of "fitting in" seemed to include loud outbursts and spontaneous behaviour. Nopony seemed to mind, though. Well, everypony except for Question Mark. Striped Saint was the only pony with which Question Mark could not easily get along. Most of the time, they seemed rather close, but when they fought, not even Lionheart's exceptional personality could mediate the conflict. Usually, Postal Code had to intervene and make the two feel ashamed for quarreling over something that was most always nominal.

Question Mark, agitated as always by Striped Saint's outburst, immediately responded, "Saint, it's not that big of a deal! It's the last day of high school for the two of them, so we can't blame them for wanting to say goodbye!"

Postal Code foresaw a quarrel and intervened: "Guys, calm down! Are a few wasted minuted on a day in which we have nothing planned really worth fighting over??"

The four were silent. Apparently, Postal Code successfully averted another potential conflict. Finally, Postal Code concluded, "Question Mark, I rest my case."

After a few more minutes of random discussions, Striped Saint asked, "So...what are we doing about this whole celebration thing?"

Postal Code hadn't actually thought of a good idea yet, so he dodged the question by asking the others what they felt like doing. None of the others knew either; they had hoped Postal Code thought of something.

"Well, if no one has any ideas, then how about we just try heading around town until we find something we want to do?"

Question Mark agreed but in addition replied, "Postal Code, just remember that you promised pie!"

"I did? When was this?"

"It was right after we defeated the tribe of evil, murderous pomegranates!"

"Uh...are you sure you weren't dreaming at the time?"

"I don't dream. I envision."

Lionheart had been silent for most of the conversation, but upon hearing the conversation's frightfully off-topic direction, he interrupted and declared, "I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if we discontinued this conversation and began our exciting, albeit disorganized celebration."

The others were shocked by Lionheart's statement. He usually didn't try to interrupt anything, but when he did, his voice always had the greatest impact. Without a word, the four left the building.

***

Postal Code struggled to awake the next morning. From a pizza shop to a rowdy nightclub, the four had done nothing but waste money and barely avoid debauchery. Postal Code had seemed to forget most of the highlights of night other than his purchase of a glass of chocolate milk priced at 33 Bits and his leaving the establishment with his friends at around 4:20 A.M. He learned one thing from this experience: never go along with Question Mark's impulses.

Postal Code then took the next forty-five minutes to recite his daily morning routine. Lionheart called three times during that interval: one while Postal Code was taking a shower, once while he was brushing his teeth, and once while he was eating a late breakfast. For most ponies, the recent invention of the telephone had become a crucial tool for communication. Postal Code, on the other hoof, found it rather trying, largely due to Lionheart's egregious timing.

Postal Code called back as soon as he was sure he had nothing more significant to do. The conversation went as follows:

"Hey, Postal Code, I was wondering..."

"What about?"

"Well, do you think you we could all meet up again and go do something?"

"Any particular reason why? I mean, we did just spend a little too much time out and about last night."

"Postal Code, you and I both know that dumb nightclubs like that are nowhere near my definition of 'fun.' I'd prefer something more civilized, like an art gallery!"

"Same here, but good luck convincing the others with that idea!"

"I'm sure if we talk it out again, we'll think of something."

"Okay, I guess you win. But you're going to have to get Striped Saint; I can't seem to remember his number."

"Great, I say we meet up outside the Library. See you there!"

***

When Postal Code and Question Mark arrived at the rendezvous determined by Lionheart, Striped Saint greeted them not with a hello, but with a string of complaints.

"Can we hurry up and do something already? I think I can actually taste the boredom seeping from that old building behind us!"

"That old building," Lionheart retorted, "You mean the Library? Our vast wealth of knowledge, which nopony could live without?"

Striped Saint acquired a more defensive tone. "No, you mean the boring way out of a problem!"

Nopony really understood the logic behind Striped Saint's claim, but Question Mark felt some sort of significance in going against the pegasus whom he felt to be his rival. "How could you possibly diss the library?? It might not be that leather toaster-cozy I've always wanted, but it's pretty darn important!"

After this, an actual argument broke out between the three of them, making it one of the few times Lionheart even entered an argument. Luckily, Postal Code realized how pointless the quarrel really was, so he attempted to once again mediate his friends' conflict. Unfortunately, nopony paid attention to poor Postal Code, for the argument, regardless of its insignificance, had become a seemingly major issue. Postal Code steadily grew in anger until he finally snapped, bellowing an exceptionally loud, obtrusive...

"OBJECTION!"

Everypony went silent. Eventually, one of them asked, "Um...Postal Code, what are you objecting to?"

Postal Code paused for a moment and said, "I, um, didn't object to anything; I was just trying to get your attention! This really isn't worth fighting over! Besides, we were going to go do something, so we need to stop wasting our time!"

***

Not too long later, the four resolved their conflict and proceeded to wander the streets of Baltimare. Their plan of action consisted mainly of activities from their previous excursion (minus the nightclub, of course). They stopped at a restaurant at some point, but most of their time was spent visiting any kind of store that caught any of their eyes. Normally, none of them would be doing such a thing, but they had been bored out of their minds for the past few days and needed anything at all to do.

While they tried to resolve to avoid buying anything on account of the squandering of their money the night before, Lionheart eventually ended up purchasing a clearance hat. In his defense, he stated that there was supposed to be a large storm later that night, and he had forgotten to bring some form of cover. Plus, he didn't see the point in going to so many stores without ever spending a bit.

In time, Lionheart's statements were proven valid. As the four began their trips to their respective homes (coincidentally, they all lived in the same relative area), an enormous storm brewed overhead. A massive torrent of rain began to fall; streets nearly flooded as it halted most outdoor activity within the city. As the rain fell, Lionheart was glad to have made the purchase; the hat kept his head relatively dry. Unfortunately, he was not expecting a powerful gale to follow.

The wind blew his hat clean off his head, resulting in its landing in a very suspicious-looking alley. As previously mentioned, there was a reason nopony would enter the alleys. Any other pony would have run away and realized how worthless the hat was. But Lionheart was not any other pony. He mustered up enough courage to begin to walk into the alley, but his friends stopped him. Striped Saint reminded him of the consequences of his decision. Postal Code assured him he could easily purchase another hat. But Lionheart believed in himself; he believed that he would be fine so long as he hurried in, grabbed the hat, and sprinted out. Even so, Postal Code still would not allow him to enter alone. This in turn led to the four's entering together.

As planned, they entered and grabbed the hat. They then proceeded to leave. If only it were that simple.

At the last possible instant, a stallion, some sort of criminal, leapt from the shadows, drew a knife, and plunged it into Lionheart's back. Lionheart, somehow not at all phased by the attack, put up a struggle, but the criminal removed the knife, dodged around to the other side, and stabbed again, this time into Lionheart's chest.

The other three had been frozen in shock during this time, but Postal Code quickly recovered and, forgetting the danger he faced, tackled the assailant. The knife remained planted in Lionheart's chest. Question Mark was the second to recover, and he tried to assist Postal Code in subduing the criminal. Striped Saint spread his wings and took off in search of the Police.

In a not-so-shocking turn of events, the criminal countered and proceeded to land a series of hits on Postal Code and Question Mark, incapacitating both of them. Seemingly assured of his victory, he once again removed the knife from Lionheart and closed in on the other two. "I wonder which one of you I should kill next," he snorted. None of them tried to continue fighting, so he squatted down next to Postal Code and pressed the bloody knife to his neck.

"How 'bout you? You look like you're ready to die–"

He flew forwards and landed head-first on the ground, falling unconscious upon impact. A portion of his back had caught fire. Postal Code observed the spectacle and realized that something of that nature, to have come so suddenly, could have only been the work of a unicorn's magic. Strength fading, he turned his head to see Lionheart struggling to get up, his horn still glowing with a violet aura. His struggle was no use, however, for he couldn't prevail against a creeping unconsciousness. Postal Code began to grow weaker and followed suit.

***

Postal Code awoke inside Baltimare's general hospital. He was being treated for minor cuts and bruises (his unconscious state led the paramedics to believe he was in a worse condition), but his injuries were of no interest to him. He only wanted to know of his friends' fates.

Postal Code soon learned from a doctor that Question Mark, who had been undergoing treatment for similar injuries, had made a full recovery and was to be discharged the next day, but Lionheart...

Lionheart was dead. He died from a loss of blood on the way to the hospital. To make matters worse, the criminal, somehow, managed to escape...

***

That was as much as he needed to see. Clearly, Postal Code had suffered enough trauma in his lifetime; it seemed his psyche could potentially be broken without strife. It was now clear: Postal Code would be the perfect candidate.

Comments

[SlashAttack321]

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