Shellstrings

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Never Strike Twice

Neigh York – Bucklyn – Early Morning

A city that never sleeps has very little trouble waking.

It was barely seven in the morning and already the streets of Bucklyn were bustling with activity. Able-muscled stallions drew wagons in and out of warehouses. Construction workers tore into sections of pavement, repairing water mains and filling the air with the cacophony of heavy machinery. Citizens rushed to work, sharing brief but bellicose words with one another as they hurried under the shadow of multi-story apartments and towering office complexes. Elder ponies sat at windows, storefronts, and balconies—drinking in the urban malaise while sharing in muttering conversations.

Flash Sentry trotted slowly down a sidewalk. Unlike everypony else, his steps were slow, shuffling, and lazy. He bided his time, reflecting the hustle and bustle with a silent deadpan. He kept his wings coiled tightly to his side and his tail barely flicked.

While piercing the heart of Bucklyn, Flash watched as quartets of stallions drew commuter wagons towards the nearest bridge connecting his foalhood home to the Island of Manehattan. In the gaps between buildings, he could spot the glittering towers of the heart of Neigh York. Rippling waters swarmed with freight ships and transport boats. There wasn't a single spot of the maretropolis that wasn't constantly moving, animated, or alive.

A calm breath drew in and out of the stallion's nostrils.

Just then, a round object sharply flew towards his skull.

Thwap! He stretched his left wing out, nimbly blocking the projectile with experienced poise. He glanced over to see that he had just caught a red ball.

A gaggle of colts rushed over, schoolbags flouncing as they hopped up and down and demanded the ball back.

Flash glanced down at them. For the first time that morning, he brandished a smile—if only a small one. With a flex of his muscles, he rolled the ball over his spine, flipped it up over his right wing, then balanced it—spinning—on the very tip of his outstretched tail. The colts gasped, eyes wide. He winked at them, then thrust a rear leg up—kicking the ball so that it arced over his head and landed neatly in front of the schoolfoals. They gave a little cheer, waved, and continued kicking the object down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Flash glanced back at them, standing in place. Gradually, his smile faded. Clenching his jaws, he looked ahead and resumed his lurching trot towards a humble five-story building at the corner of the nearest intersection.

---

Neigh York – Bucklyn – Apartment Building

The stallion shuffled across the decrepit tile of a barren lobby floor. Scraps of paper and piles of dust lined the corners beneath moldy walls. Flash made a bee-line for the stairwell, slowly marching his way up the floors. He shuffled past an unshaven stallion sleeping against the steps under a pile of coats. Flash paused briefly... sighed... and dropped a few golden bits on the floor beside the unconscious pony before continuing.

Once he reached the fourth story, he stepped down a long hallway with flickering lights. Crooked numbers lined the doors—or at least most of them. He heard the crackle of radio broadcasts through the frames, and the stained walls occasionally thumped with muffled voices and domestic arguments.

At last—just before the fire escape—Flash reached a door with the number "414." Morning light through a translucent window illuminated the thick rusted doorknob. Flash Sentry fiddled with his wingtips, then produced a key. He stood in place, hesitating slightly. His ears twitched to the sound of a jackhammer somewhere in the streets below.

Finally—weathering a sigh—he slid the key into the lock, gave it a turn, and opened the door with a pronounced creak.

Flash entered the apartment, his blue eyes blinking left and right.

The place was small and empty—save for a stack of cardboard boxes up against the wall to his immediate right. A stretch of windows lined a balcony with dusty drapes. Aside from that, all of the furnishing had been removed, and Flash could still see rectangular spots across the floor that marked the places where couches and tables had stood for years on end—only to be removed just a few months ago.

Slowly, Flash closed the door behind him. He was swallowed in silence—or at least the most silence he could afford in the heart of Bucklyn. The apartment building shook and hummed with mostly disgruntled life beneath him. The immediate walls—however—cocooned him in tense solemnity.

After a long while, he finally built up the nerve to trot forward. He passed a closet with a slitted door, then glanced into a barren bathroom. Next, he looked into the kitchen, observing the empty drawers and countertops. On a silent whim, he passed down a claustrophobic hallway and gazed into two bedrooms—one large but humble, the other one tiny and haunting. He lingered at the last room, his eyes tracing the edges of a window positioned above a wall permanently etched with the outline of a phantom bed. The room was plain and empty, and yet every crack in the wall and imperfection in the ceiling had pronounced significance to the stallion.

With a heavy heart, he turned tail and trotted away from the sight, his hooves making lonely thuds against the floor. At last, he returned to the main room from whence he came. Flash's head pivoted to the left, his gaze falling on the stack of cardboard boxes. His wings coiled tighter... but he finally built up the nerve to move forward and open one of the containers. Inside, he could see countless heirlooms and miscellaneous objects far too fragile for the movers to take from the building.

Reaching in, he fiddled through the various nick-nacks: a pocketwatch, a replica of the Statue of Harmony, a porcelain swan surrounded in bubble-wrap, a makeup case. At last, he found a canvas-bound book. Holding his breath, he opened the tome, revealing glossy plastic sheets fitted with countless photographs. Flash Sentry flipped slowly forward, taking his time in absorbing the album. The pages gradually turned from black and white to gray to faded amber. When he eventually reached sheets fitted with surviving color, he came to a stop. The photographs predominantly featured three ponies—a mare and a stallion and little orange colt. Flash's hoof rested against a picture featuring the trio cuddled closely together, wearing matching sweaters with a fully-lit Hearth's Warming Tree in the background.

Flash's glossy eyes reflected warm smiles. His muzzle twitched... the edges almost curving up to match them—

Th-Thump!

"... ... ..." Flash stood perfectly still. Deadpan. His ears pivoted, twitched, then came to rest in their original position.

Silence.

In a calm breath, Flash placed the album and other objects back into the box.

In an even calmer breath, he stacked the box into place and trotted towards the front door.

But just as he held his hoof out to the knob...

...he flapped his wings savagely forward, forcing his body into a nimble backflip. Th-Thwooosh! He landed right in front of the closet, bucked the slitted door open, and reached inside. "Rrrrrrgh!" He body-slammed a hidden pegasus onto the floor. Thud!

"Owww!" a female voice rasped, twitching in pain as her aquamarine body sprawled out. "Ow ow ow owwwww... shit..."

Flash hunched over to punch her skull in—but stopped. Breathing through a frown, he stood up and muttered, "You always sucked at standing still."

"Grffff..." The mare rubbed her head through a golden mane, squinting up at him. "Nice to s-see you too, Flash."

"Speak for yourself." Flash pointed at the door. "Now get the Hell out of my home."

"I thought this was your parents' home!"

"All the more reason for you to scram." His brow furrowed. "How did you even get in here to begin with?"

"Pfft... come on..." She sat up with a wry smirk. "You can body-slam me anyday, Flash. But don't insult me."

Flash leaned back, folding his forelimbs. "I'm waiting."

"Uhm..." She cocked her head to the side. "I knocked out the landlord and picked the lock with a hairpin?"

Silence.

Sighing, the mare hung her head. "The stupid window to your room still slides open when you jiggle it a bit to the left. I guess nopony ever bothered to repair that over the past eight years."

"Hrmmmfff..." Flash sighed. "Not much of a difference it'll make now."

"Yeah, well..." She winked. "You sure didn't seem to mind having a broken window way back when... hmmm?"

"Uh huh." Flash pointed once more to the door. "You can go now, Lightning Dust."

"Oh come onnnnn!" She pouted. "Aren't you at least going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

"Yes." Flash glared. "You're breaking and entering. Which—last time I checked—could get you several months in the Neigh York Penitentiary at least."

Lightning Dust stood up, snarling. "I'm trying to meet up with an old friend!" She stomped her hoof. "Because Celestia help me find him any other way! You don't return any of my mail, and none of the ponies in Canterlot can recall having seen you on patrol—"

"I've been stationed in the Crystal Empire the past year."

"The Crystal Empire?!" Lightning Dust did a double-take. "Shit, Flash! I figured you took the changeling invasion hard—but isn't that a little extreme?"

He squinted. "You would break into my parents' apartment for the express purpose of running into me?"

"Of course!" Lightning Dust frowned at him. She blinked. "Well..." The mare toed the floor with an aquamarine hoof. "That and... uhm... I needed a place to sleep the last two evenings." She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe the hotel rates in Bucklyn these days. Shit on a stick... there's gentrification, and then there's the overpriced genocide of cockroaches..."

Flash sighed, pacing towards the door. "Drop the pretense, Lightning Dust. We've got nothing to say to one another."

"Oh please, Flash..." She gestured. "You and I go way back. We're practically family!"

He stood with his hoof on the doorknob, glaring at her. "Lightning, how many letters have you actually written to me over the past few years?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—"

"The only time you've ever legitimately wanted to meet up is because you've needed a favor."

"Yeah? So? That's what friends do!"

"Only every favor I've ever done for you has ended up a total waste of time and effort due to your recklessness."

"Yeesh." Her ears stretched flat as she gave him a bland expression. "You sure know how to hit it on the nose, don't you?"

"I'm a serious stallion, Lightning."

"You weren't always! Come on, Flash..." She shuffled up to him, gently removing his hoof from the doorknob. "Why don't you hold off from kicking my butt out for just a little bit, huh?" She smiled. "For real! Let's chat a bit! Catch up! Y'know... like old times!"

"Lightning, I don't have the time for this."

"For what? Friends?" She raised an eyebrow. "You've already run out of parents, Flash. Are you really... truly ready for a stupidly empty life?"

Flash stared at her. Slowly, he sighed.

Comments

[Doctorfoxwolf]

Flash reached a door with the number "414."

Error Request URI too long.

[fourths]

Once he reached the fourth story,

:0 Fourths!!!!

[Scorch215]

Did not see her shoeing up or having a connection to Flash.

Things are getting interesting

[Razzy]

I wonder how his parents died. Maybe the changelings ate them.

[Jern]

the Statue of Harmony

I don't think I've ever heard it referred to as the Statue of Harmony but I like it.

7484777 Flash was looking for them when he rescued Lyra in Canterlot. They probably died in the attack.

[QueenMoriarty]

surrouned in bubble-wrap

surrounded

But just as he held his out to the knob

his what?

Also, are you trying to make Flash as bland as possible?

[IceKitsune]

And Lightning Dust enters the story. This is quite the surprising pair of characters.

[KMCA]

7484682 I remember when you used to say you'd never get referenced. Congrats.