Chapter 3
I’ve had a hard life filled with pain, agony, and distress. I have always been alone, no pony by my side to help me pull through. It has been just me. My whole life, it has been just me. My name’s Shots, and this is my story.
The furthest back I can remember is from when I was five. I lived with my father in Trottingham. My mother had died giving birth to me and my father always blamed me for her death. It wasn’t fair, I didn’t mean to kill her. I was five years old for Celestia’s sake! I couldn’t even understand the reason he treated me like shit all the time. Because I was so young, there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to deal with being treated worse than a dog every single day of my pathetic life.
My father was a drunk, and unemployed. Every day when I came home from school he was in one of two conditions. The first wasn’t so bad. I would just come home to see him passed out on the floor in a pool of his own vomit. I would have to clean it up and get him into bed, but that wasn’t so bad compared to what happened If I came home to him on one of his bad days. The second condition I could have walked in on was one of most pony’s worst nightmares. I would open the door to see him standing there waiting for me with a cattle prod. I would try to run away from him and slam the door in his face but he was fast for a drunk. He always caught up to me. After he had caught me, he would beat me senseless until I could hardly breathe. The electricity from the cattle prod burned my flesh and left disgusting scars all over me. The physical pain was the least of my problems. Every night I would cry myself to sleep because of the emotional agony I felt. Why couldn’t I have a normal father? Why couldn’t I have a normal life? I hated everypony else in the world. How come they could be happy and I couldn’t? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all! I wanted to see them all suffer just like I had suffered.
My father was only one of my problems. The worst problem was at school. It would have been fine if people would have just left me alone, just ignore me like a normal outcast, but no. I never got ignored. I got the most notice out of anyone in the class. I stood out because of my scars and my poor attitude and everyone made fun of me for it. But the worst was Leadhoof and his little gang of fucked up individuals. Every day at lunch they would come over and sit with me, constantly poking fun at my scars. They called me names and they even threw their food at me. This was all fine, I could handle name calling but one day they took it too far. One day when I was out at recess sitting on the swing, the only time I ever had to myself when nobody was making fun of me or hurting me, Leadhoof and his gang came up to me. Leadhoof had just gotten a switchblade for his birthday and apparently wanted to try it out on real flesh. I didn’t try to be tough. As a matter of fact I got on my knees and begged them not to hurt me. I pleaded with tears in my eyes, I just wanted to be left alone! Why me? Why the fuck did it have to be me!? As I was begging, Leadhoof just laughed and then bucked my face. I got knocked back a few feet off the swing and then the last thing I remember was them beating the shit out of me and cutting me with that switchblade. I could hardly breathe, the blood from my nose was getting caught in my throat. I couldn’t stop coughing and there were tears running down my cheeks. I felt myself growing cold, I thought I might finally be at peace, finally be able to die and escape from this world. I blacked out.
I woke up a few days later in the hospital. They told me I was going to be fine. I wasn’t going to be fine, I was anything but fine. As it turns out Leadhoof and his gang got off with nothing but a warning. How was that even possible? They beat me half way to hells gateway and all they got was a fucking warning!? No. That was not acceptable. I decided to take matters into my own hands. For the next few years I spent most of my time in the library learning about different herbs and their uses. I studied harder than I ever had before until it was time to act. One day before school I went into the Everfree Forest and picked the herbs I needed for the concoction I wanted. I went home and mixed them up and filled four syringes up with 20cc of the poison and then I went off to school. It was the longest day of my life, I sat in class watching the clock tick away until it was time for recess. At recess I went and sat on the swing again like usual and just waited for those three ass holes to come over to me. Finally, they did. I stood up and took the three syringes out of my saddlebag and quickly injected one in to each of them. Then they proceeded to beat the shit out of me again. This beating was short lived. Within forty-five seconds all three of them were lying dead on the ground from organ failure. The poison was untraceable so there was no way they could pin the murders on me, seeing as nobody saw anything. Nobody ever watched when I was getting beaten, not even the teachers. I quickly ran out of the school yard and home.
When I swung the door open I found my father drunk, passed out on the floor. I took the final syringe out of my saddlebag and injected it into his throat. That was the end of my problems. Nobody was ever going to hurt me again. It was at this time I got my cutie mark. A syringe with two tranquilizer darts on either side. I stole the money out of my dad’s wallet and got on the first cart out of town. I was going to start a new life, someplace different.
After a long ride I arrived in a small town called Ponyville. I paid the cart driver and he trotted off towards the next town. It was night time and I was cold and alone. I still hated the world for the misfortune it had given me. I didn’t think I could ever be happy again. That’s when I met her. A peppy pink pony named Pinky Pie. I owe her my life. On that night she took me in to stay with her. She taught me what it meant to smile. She taught me how to laugh again. She taught me how to forgive the world and live life to it’s fullest. She even got me a job as a Hunter for Prestige. He thought my special talent for poisons and anaesthetics would come in handy as a Hunter.
I owe Pinkie Pie my life. Actually, I owe her more than that. She saved me from damnation. She made me a new person and accepted me for who I am. I love her. I just finished throwing the last pony in my quota on the cart and I’m heading back to the lab. I think it’s time I ask Pinkie out on a proper date.
Is it wrong that this guy seems like the perfect match for Pinkie?
I'm really enjoying this fic so far, I love the idea of an organ harvesting operation with a moral high ground. I do want to see a little more descriptiveness though. You squeak by with the bare minimum as it is. Details! I want juicy details! If you succeed with descriptive writing, the rest eventually comes naturally.
I hope she goes out with him ^.^
Poor kid, what a messed up home life. Gives him no right to treat others badly but I guess when you go through that much shite so young its hard not to be bitter. At least he is using his talents for good, though the ethics behind the service they offer is dubious at best.
Aight, my point still stands, this guy is every single character Samual L. Jackson ever played. A badass with a brutal past and a soft spot. Love it! I got to admit that I am intruiged if you will manage to cram some romance in there too. Oh and I have to agree with #1 here, I love your style and your descriptive writing, but there is so FEW of it. You really, REALLY should go more in the details of the cool stuff. Here, again, you rushed exactly THE part that is the central motive of your story: Violence for the greater good.
You could have stretched that out much more. For example the scene where Shots murders his father. You wrote:
"When I swung the door open I found my father drunk, passed out on the floor. I took the final syringe out of my saddlebag and injected it into his throat. That was the end of my problems. Nobody was ever going to hurt me again."
You could have written:
"When I swung the door open I found my worthless asshole of a father in his usual state again, drunk, passed out, in a puddle of his own vomit. I did not hesitate a moment, pulling the final syringe out of my saddlebag and gently placing it on his neck. With one swift, determined motion I sank the hollow needle into his throat and let the poisonous liquid work it's magic. He twitched a for a few seconds as I watched him end his embarassing, useless existence. That was the end of my problems, nobody was ever going to hurt me again. I was free."
With that much more descriptive style the moment gains a lot of emotional punch and his hatred and disgust for those around him really JUMPS IN THE READERS FACE. That's what you want.
Do not be afraid to read it several times before uploading. Not to find typos or grammar errors, but to ask yourself CONCIOUSLY "How could I describe this in a more detailed way? Can I pack some more emotion inside?"
Please do not feel I am berating your work here, I seldom write such detailed criticism. I do this because I love your premise and your characters. and I see some huge potential here. So, if you can, please tale this advice to heart and go more in-depth with the gory and brutal details. You labeled this "DARK" - now make us cringe!
27072 Why thank you ^^
More practice and you could pull some seriously professional lines off. This was an amusing break from the normal perspective, and I wouldn't mind seeing more`of this. A few things to work on:
"I’ve had a hard life filled with pain, agony, and distress. I have always been alone, no pony by my side to help me pull through."
Consistency. If you use contractions once, you should continue to use them in all instances where it is thematically appropriate. Feel free to decide what is an exception to this rule.
"It wasn’t fair, I didn’t mean to kill her."
Very flat, and detracts from the character. Broke my sense of disbelief right out the window.
"The poison was untraceable so there was no way they could pin the murders on me, seeing as nobody saw anything."
Quite redundant; is there a better way to word phrases like this?
Other than that, work on general pace. I've observed a very quick and choppy pace from similar writers, and even a simple description can be made into a beautiful image with the help of a slower pace. Inject detail where you can (though it is possible to go overboard.) For example, 'The room had a metal table' could just as easily be 'The room opened to reveal a singular metal table, a set of tools adorning the bottom shelf.' One is automatically more rewarding for the reader, and the stronger the setting and more realistic the pace the easier it is to let the reader imagine important scenes. I've taken quite a bit of your time; continue to work on this marvelous story unfolding.
The best place to apply the pace suggestion would be the paragraph "My father was only one of my problems...". This would do much better as 3 paragraphs. Add more emotions from Shots! "The bastard decided I was the ideal test subject" conveys an angry emotion, while "The fist hit five seconds before the pain" conveys a stretched sense of time, a more complex emotion to achieve. I'd prefer if you made your own, but these are good examples to start with.
27268 Once again you've outdone yourself with the helpful feedback! Thank you very much. I'm going to remaster these chapters at a later date so I'll keep your suggestions in mind. Watch my profile and I'll pop up a blog post when I do remaster them.
The one thing I don't like about this is reading it and knowing that there are people who live lives as neglected and tormented as that. Even though this is a fictional story, the fact that it's so close to what happens to some people in real life just makes it extra sad.
I think Pinkie would be the best choice for him. She's peppy and happy, and he's well..not. as they say, opposites attract!
I hope she says yes.
I hate knowing that people/ponies are beaten for the stupidest of reasons... It's messed up and sad.