Homeland Oracle

by StoryForge

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 4

Out there, nopony lives long enough to tell the tales they went through. Same goes for your father... Your only place is Industead, Rain. Where you’re safe...”

My mother’s words echoed softly in my head.

I looked up at the sun, and sunk back, blinded for a few seconds. There was no smog, no nitrogen oxides, no ozone, and no pollutants in the air...

The air was intoxicatingly pure compared to the concentrated solution of waste I had been breathing for years. I choked on the newfound air quality for some time, but my lungs quickly adjusted, as did my eyes.

My head spun. There were no fences, no restrictions, no guards, no factories, no gates, no smog... I could continue forever. But my head focused on one very grim negative that was coming out of all of this.

No family.

I had no clue where my family was, what they were doing, and how they were dealing with the chaos that reigned outside their front doorstep. I’m sure my mother, Crystal, had been worried sick about me. Flake could care less, I thought. But my mother genuinely cared even though she always had a sad or disappointed look when she glanced at me. I couldn’t tell whether it was due to who I was, how much I was able to make for the family, or that we were not quite making end’s meet. But I did know one thing, and it was that she cared about me.

Sure, technically she had to watch over me. But it was still nice to know somepony did care.

I didn’t quite know Red yet. We talked for a little less than a week, and he did patch my leg up to a point in which I could walk on and use it. He was a kind of suave talker, and probably got his way with a lot of things. The problem is, though, that we got split up. The other problem is that he was the only sniper on the rooftop as far as I knew. It couldn’t have been him that shot at me, could it?

I pushed the thought of betrayal out of my head. I wasn’t going to have my only potential friend stigmatized for something somepony else could have done.

I gazed upon the open desert, my eyes combing the tan ground for anything of interest. There were a hoof-full of shriveled-up shrubs located here and there, randomly placed over the knolls and dunes that made up the terrain. Out in the distance, I could see Industead and I could hear the alarms going off.

I turned my attention back towards the north, not wanting to think about industead. I knew I would return, bring home my dad, and try to afford a bigger house and healthier food with all the money he could have made. But that would come later, though. I needed to track down Red so we can get this mess cleared up. I wanted to know what exactly happened back there.

Not too far from where I stood, I spotted a rugged trail stretching out into the north. This must lead to Ponyville.

I looked towards the sky. This time, Celestia’s glorious heavens were being painted all shades of magenta, cyan, and orange. The sun was setting, and it would soon be night.

I took a few steps back into the cave. It would be best to stop and spend the night here; the desert was probably a terrifying place at night.

----------

I rested my saddlebags as well as my vest against the rusted leg of the cot. I attempted to get comfortable as I curled up in different positions.

The cot was truly a horror. It was stiff, uncomfortable, and whole parts of it were ripped up, and even some claws looked like they sunk in a few times. Spots of it were infused with blood. The cot itself was putrid, and smelled like all the pollutants and horse manure in Industead created this stench.

I looked towards the roof of the cave and thought about Industead. The distance between me and the only place I could really call home was going to increase, and I could picture it disappearing into the horizon as I glanced over my shoulder in my imagination. I thought about Ponyville and what they had to bring. Maybe a new home, maybe a nice bed, food...

I contemplated all the things in Industead I was forfeiting. My family, my house, my nice (somewhat) bed, the job...

I thought again about my family and what they must be going through. Then more negative thoughts rolled in: one less mouth to feed, I thought. They’re better off without me. Nopony needs a sexually confused mare living with them. Nopony wants a pony who can’t even defend herself in a fight. And surely, nopony wants a pony who just mopes around all day. Even my comrade just left me.

I could only think of the burdens I caused for what was left of my family, or anypony else for that matter. I curled myself up in a small, pathetic heap on the abused cot and cried myself to sleep, quietly.

----------

My eyes finally uncovered themselves after the long night, and the smell of the absolutely disgusting cot flooded my nostrils once again when I awoke. I noticed the cot received my tears to complement the dried blood.

I winced a little bit and smacked my lips, futilely attempted to get rid of the lingering taste of morning breath. Spitting a few times onto the cave floor, I got out of the cot and telekinetically put my saddlebags on and fastened my Spitfire Vest.

Ensuring I had everything and that everything was adjusted properly, I took one final look around the cave, and frowned at the fact that this once served as somepony’s lowly home. I looked out of the cave, which conveniently opened up its gaping mouth to the east, out into the rising sun of dawn.

I stepped out onto the same soft sand, and noticed it was much cooler in the morning. I never really took the time to how beautiful the it was this time of day. It was the same twilight colors that blanketed the sky in the evening... however, the sun rose directly in front of me, illuminating my face as well as the majority of the cave behind me. The rising sun’s rays elongated across the dunes of the dirt and sand, and clawed their way toward my hooves. There was nothing to prevent the sun’s rays from bathing me and my surroundings this time, as I was no longer in Industead.

I may have felt free, but at the same time I really didn’t. I was confined to a box, trapped and drowning in my fears, unsure of what to do with them. First of all, the world around me reached out in all directions for what seemed like eternity. Secondly, all the terrible tales of the outside flowed out of my thoughts all at once. I had been told of rapists, drug addicts, bandits, looters, fierce mutated monsters... anything one could imagine. I was even told of dragons that swept down and set whole towns ablaze. That was utterly ridiculous, an old pony’s tale, I thought.

The world wasn’t yet ablaze, per se, but the sun incessantly beat down on me as the day progressed. There was no smog to block out some of the sun, so I wasn’t quite used to this kind of heat daily.

Even though I was completely alone on this dusty road that represented what was left of Equestria, many things followed around me that day. My griefs, my sorrows, doubts, fears, my longing for my family, my lingering thirst under the hot sun, and it felt like Death himself was following me around, ready to catch me should I fall, and bring me down before I would be able to get back up.

----------

Ponyville. Or what was left of it, anyways.

I trudged up toward the rows of battered and damaged buildings in awe and disbelief. Hundreds of ponies had to have lived here, including the legendary Mane Six. Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle... They all lived here. What happened? I know Canterlot was consumed by an ice of unknown origin, but I don’t think that Ponyville was. Or, at least, I never knew it was.

I took what I assumed to be my first steps into Ponyville. Buildings were worn and torn apart, shops were plundered, and houses were ransacked. I knew Equestria was pretty much a desert, what I didn’t know was the large lack of civilization in it.

What remained of Ponyville was organized similarly to the town I saw in the surveillance cameras that Red was monitoring on his computer. Noting this, I didn’t walk directly in the middle of these two rows of buildings for the fear of bandits, but went off to one side and gazed at the abandoned buildings with a reluctance to enter.

As the sun began to set, I started for the nearest building, which I presumed to be a store of some sort. As I opened the door, I caught a figure standing near a bridge out of the corner of my eyes wearing a type of trench coat, which flapped in a wind that I could not detect. I turned to focus my gaze on the mysterious figure, but when I did so, the figure was gone.

Great. I’m thirsty, sweaty, rather hungry, and to top it off, I am seeing things.

I opened the door to the Ponyville Express, whatever that was. Upon going inside it, I noticed it appeared a lot nicer than how it did on the outside. Sure, some of the furniture was pretty torn up, but at least it wasn’t stained with blood. Taking a brief look around the surprisingly spacious room, I could tell it was the local post office. On the wall to my left, a poster read: “Don’t discriminate, vote Ditzy for Employee of the Month!” She must’ve been a mailmare. She was a pegasus pony and was colored a pale grey. Her mane was a shade of light, pastel yellow, and her eyes were a beautiful gold color. I wasn’t sure if this was an insult towards her, mistake when making the poster, or if this was actually how her eye was oriented, but one of her golden-yellow eyes seemed to drift off into space, out of focus.

I smiled a little at this, I looked around the room some more. There was a small service counter immediately in front of the front door of the post office, and behind it were rows of letterboxes, accompanied by a door that led to what seemed to be a room for packages or other storage. To my right, I could see couches, benches, and a few armchairs. I assumed this was a sort of waiting room.

On the wall behind me, opposite of the service counter, was an absurd “statement” that molested my eyeballs with profanity. The words “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE” were crudely and hurriedly spray-painted.

I rolled my eyes in disgust and went behind the service counter. On shelves implemented in the counter that seemed hidden from customers, I could see a few things. First, were some stacks of paper and clipboard, complemented by a kind of old-style typewriter and a pencil. Above that shelf, I made out a damaged type of pistol that took a clip in the handle. Two of the appropriate clips were found next to the gun itself, totaling fourteen rounds in all. I took the gun and the ammunition.

I took the small pistol in case I needed it. My eyes then turned to the stack of papers, as well as the letters behind me, sitting in the letterboxes. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to look through the papers. It’s not like anyone’s using them, anyways.

The papers turned out to be postal records of packages and letters, who was mailing them, and who would be the recipient. The latest document seemed to already be attached to the clipboard. I put two and two and two together and realized everything was in chronological order.

I took a look at the latest page. Everything was organized into columns, which were filled with numbers, names, and other information. None of it really made sense to me, except for the addresses and the dates, all of which were in the year L.C. 1176.

That was only two years ago.

If this was a ghost town, then why was there an organized and civilized postal service so recently? Just two years ago, ponies were sending out letters and packages, and receiving them as well. That means that there were ponies trying to get along with each other just two years ago. This leads me to ask the same question I have been all day—what happened?

I turned to the letterboxes. There were a few packages torn open on the counter next to them, which I had assumed were looted by bandits and/or survivors. However, I spotted some untouched packages stacks on the floor behind the service counter. I thought about opening them, but a better idea arose in my mind.

These packages must’ve never been delivered, and probably never will. Opening them would be like destroying a time capsule that was preserved for somepony else. These packages are rightfully theirs. Most likely, the intended recipients weren’t living here anymore, but what if they were?

I decided I was going to take these packages and a few of these letters to their rightful owners. Or where they lived, anyways. Even if they weren’t there, it would still be the right thing to do.

I picked up and examined the packages. They were in substantial condition, so their contents couldn’t be too damaged. Hanging on the wall was a brown messenger bag, fit for... a messenger. Slinging that around my shoulder, I put some of the letters and packages in there, and put what was left in another saddlebag.

I decided to explore the remainder of the postal office. The door leading to the room behind the counter that I had mentioned earlier had been locked, much to my dismay. I was curious and wanted to find out what was behind that door. If it was locked, that would mean that what was inside had to have been well-preserved. It compensated for the fact that it would be difficult getting in. The door didn’t look all the strong, even though this office was running recently. I decided to try to ram the door down.

I took a few trots back away from the door, and readied myself for a lunge at the door. Raising my flank in the air like a pouncing feline, I used every bit of my strength to throw myself at the door.

SLAM!

I staggered back, wincing in pain. My shoulder was throbbing from being thrown into a door, and I immediately regretted putting it through something like that. And that’s when I had an epiphany. I suddenly realized what I was meant to do, who I really was. I blanked out for moments at a time, contemplating the matter.

I was a pony. Not a cat.

I got up, shaking my head vigorously to snap out of my idiotic trance. I turned to my hind legs, and rolled my eyes as I turned around to give the door a good bucking.

I soon discovered that I wasn’t very good at bucking. The door rattled, but hardly budged after my pathetic bludgeon.

I turned to face the door, and back at my hind legs with an angry, disappointed smirk. I decided to give it another go, but as soon as I lifted my legs, I could hear a cold, shrill, screaming voice of a male ring through the door:

“NOOO! Stay out! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

I crumpled to the floor in shock upon hearing this stallion’s voice. What the hell?

I backed away from the door slowly, with my eyes locked on the door as I wondered what the stallion was so scared of. After a few filly steps backwards, I backed into something strange that wasn’t there before. Turning around, I saw a unicorn, wearing a large, brown cowboy hat as well as a duster, levitating a golden pistol similar to the one in Gorman’s office. I hadn’t much of a description, as the next few moments happened all too quickly.

He rotated the gun to point it at me.

I didn’t know who this stallion was, what he was doing here, or what was even going on, but I levitated my aluminum bat out of its strap to give the mysterious stallion a battering he’d never forget.

My attack failed, and he immediately countered it by bobbing under the arc of my swing and ducking behind me. I anticipated a bullet to the head directly afterwards, but instead I was telekinetically whipped in the back of my head by the handle of his golden pistol.

My knees gave out and I fell against the wall, headfirst.

I could see a small trail of blood following my head as it slid against the wall. The room was spinning and shifting into and out of focus, and I felt like I could hardly stay conscious.

A gunshot rang my ears and definitely jolted me enough to stay awake. I attempted to look around, but everything was a blurred mess. I did know that I was behind the counter, leaning against the wall, unarmed. I couldn’t use my levitation to pick anything up or defend myself. The stallion could have put a bullet in my brain if he wanted to. I just watched as the blurred mess attempt to buck open the door, when I heard a gunshot coming from the door.

The stallion stopped bucking, turned around, and looked at the door. He gave a sigh, and levitated its pistol into its holster. He took one last look at me, shook his head, and proceeded out the front door of the post office.

The pony behind the door had committed suicide.

----------

I awoke with a pounding headache. It felt as if a small pony were trapped inside my cranium, using a sledgehammer to try and escape.

I picked myself up off the floor and hobbled over to the door with a sad expression on my face. My memory was coming back to me, including the fact that the surviving pony in that mailroom committed suicide to avoid what I had decided were bandits. What I am confused about, though, is why only one bandit pony came in and left. He didn’t actually kill me, and as far as I know, he didn’t kill anypony. He also didn’t loot anything of mine. What he wanted with that other pony in the mailroom, I do not know. I had a plethora of questions, and no answers.

None of that changed the fact that I still wanted to see what was in that room. I sure didn’t have the strength to attempt bucking down the door, so that was out of the question. I thought about using the laser cannon to destroy the door handle, but I didn’t want to waste precious ammunition. Instead, I had a better idea, even though I couldn’t think very well at all.

I levitated out my combat knife, and shoved it where the door meets the handle itself, using all of my might to try and break the lock internally. Not to my surprise, I could hear a loud, metallic snap that sounded like a detachment. I then shoved the knife in between the door and the doorframe, and I was happy to see that it slid right through. I pushed the door open, to see what was inside.

It was a storage room, used for all sorts of things. There were rows of filing cabinets, lockers, and what appeared to be a workbench. However, it was easy to see that half the room was devoted to storing packages and letters. But there was only one thing that surprised me about the room.

Where was that pony’s body? The gunshot went off, unless the pony faked the suicide. Even if he did, he would still be here. There weren’t any windows. Unless he walked out of the door of the office while I was unconscious. Well, whatever it was, he wasn’t here anymore. I decided to scope out the room before heading out.

I decided to be nosy and look in the letters. Most of them were to their special someponies while others were simple friendly letters that didn’t seem to catch my attention. I was kind of hoping for a letter to Princess Celestia. Then I facehoofed when I remembered that Twilight mentioned her letters were sent directly to the Princess through Spike.

I couldn’t carry all of the packages, of course, so I decided to go through them before somepony else did. In one, I found a few boxes of cake mix, which didn’t appeal to me at all. One box contained an iron box, which I found to be ironic in multiple ways.

Then I checked the date. A couple of the ones I opened were marked L.C. 1003.

Oh. That would make sense as to why nothing in here was useful. Ponies were too soft back then. However, I did find one package that looked somewhat promising. It came with a letter dated L.C. 1009, so I read that first.

"To my dearest Fluttershy,

I took note of when you told me you were simply DYING of thirst on our last hiking trip. So, I decided to whip up something for my dear old friend.

This for the Fluttershy?

You know I absolutely hate canteens, because they don’t tend to match with anything. But I made one that would be absolutely perfect for you! Oh, and the shape is to DIE for when considering choosing an outfit to go hiking on! It’s a little heavy with all the jewels I have embedded, but the material I used on it compensates for the jewels’ weight.

Hold on a minute. She embedded Jewels into a canteen?!

"I thought it would complement your mane and go with any outfit you wear! It is the PERFECT thing to take with you anytime you go out—"

At this point, I was really tired of reading about how a canteen would be perfect with any outfit, and I could only assume it was from Fluttershy’s friend, Rarity. She was really into that kind of stuff, from what I know from Twilight’s journal. I skipped until the end of the letter.

"Sincerely, your friend Rarity.”

“P.S. I think that it would also go great with the dress I made for you to wear to the Gala—"

That’s it, I was done. I threw the letter on the floor and tore open the box like a filly opens a present on her birthday.

The canteen was an eyesore. Worth a fortune, but an eyesore. Thank Celestia that Rarity didn’t change the shape too much, as it was still semicircular. However, the canteen itself was a bright, pastel pink.

Pink. I was not going to be seen with this thing.

I stuffed it into my saddlebags mainly for its value. I had no other reason to keep it other than to hold water, even though it really didn’t hold all too much, because Rarity shrank the size for “fashion reasons”.

----------

Waking up seemed like a chore. I slept on some boxes filled with letters in the mailroom, and had somewhat of a sore back from waking up on such makeshift bedding. It wasn’t too bad, though; I’m very used to it due to my time living back home.

But that’s not necessarily what made getting up difficult. Thinking about home was hard. Not necessarily that I wanted to return, but the fact that I would probably never see the remainder of my family again. Another unsettling thought was that I didn’t know where I was going to be leading my inexperienced self out in the unruly desert. I felt like I was split into different parts and each piece wanted to chase different shadows. One part of me wanted to accept that my dad was dead and that finding him would be futile, while the other part thought differently and longed to see him. Red was my main priority though, because he was really the one to save my life, no matter how he did it. He was my guidance in the world, his ideas are similar to mine and we just seem to “click”. Finding him meant life.

I had a thought to go after my attacker from yesterday, but I pushed that aside and was just glad to be alive. My plan was to go and deliver these packages to where they had originally belonged, before the post office was raided, find some things about what Canon is, and maybe find some food.

I trotted back out to the storefront of the post office. I was weary of attackers and made note to stick to the row of buildings. I am also happy to note that the stack of papers came with a rather recent map of Ponyville, which of which was made only four years ago. Using the map, I located the first place I needed to go.

Twilight’s library. Oh, am I excited!

It was Twilight Sparkle’s legendary study and sanctuary. The place where she did all of her research and study during her stay in Ponyville. It contains—or probably used to contain—shelves of books stuffed with all sorts of information on a wide variety of topics. It was enough books for even Twilight Sparkle.

I could see the top of the tree where the library was coming into view. The tree was enormous and immediately caught my attention. I knew Town Hall was the center of Ponyville based on what Dad told me, but her library seemed a more fitting centerpiece. I approached the library slowly, carrying the unopened package I intended to deliver. I was not sure what Twilight was receiving, but that was her business even if she was dead.

As I drew nearer, I could see parts of the exterior of the tree that were defiled with spray paint similar to that used in the cave and the post office. I noticed that the spray-painted words were both profanity as well as cries for help, and were in different colors too. It really ticked me off, but I other things to do. The tree itself had a very large, round shape. I could see windows and a balcony on different sides of the tree, and it was easy to see that the tree was more than enough to accommodate a pony and her little dragon companion, whom I knew as Spike.

The door was also abused pretty badly, but in better condition than I am used to. It featured a nice, gold-colored type of doorknob and the door was split into two levels; one door opened on top and another opened on bottom. I thought about just walking into the library, but that wouldn’t be right of a mailmare. Instead, I thought it would be best to knock although I wasn’t expecting a response. I lifted my hoof up, and knocked on the door twice.

I waited a little bit and reached for the door handle, when unexpectedly the topmost door swung open, to reveal a husky stallion with a dirty, grey mane and a dark green coat. I could hear forks and knives clanging behind him and I was under the assumption that a group of ponies were eating and chatting. The stallion at the door looked at me from head to hoof and spoke.

“Oh, yer a hot one.” His look changed from admiring to somewhat angry. “What’s yer business here?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored his initial remark. “Just here to drop off a package, where it belongs,” I stated, cockily. “What’s your business in Twilight’s Library?”

“The who-what now?” His southern accent was starting to show much more. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know...” I just decided against trying to explain it to him. It’s been over a hundred years since Twilight Sparkle lived here. Ponies seemed to forget the real heroes from back then, their minds are now on trying to stay alive and feed themselves. “Eh, never mind.”

The stallion turned around to face what seemed to be his crew and shouted: “Hey boys, we’ve got us a mail-pony at the door here to see us!” I don’t know why, but the stallions laughed and howled in the background. “Hey, don’t look so down, why don’t ya come on in for something to eat?”

I was surprised. Why he was inviting me in to eat, I don’t know. But I accepted.

The inside of the library seemed even larger on the inside than it did the outside. The stallion led me into the large main room, which was lit up by windows and an array of candles and lanterns. In the center of the room was a round table, where I could see eight dirty, grimy stallions gathered around it, eating breakfast. Lining the walls were shelves built into the wall, where I assumed the books should’ve been. They were replaced with weapons and various knick-knacks I could not make out. To the very right of the door was a staircase, which rose up and lined the wall to the next floor. I didn’t really feel good about this, but I didn’t want to be rude.

“Come on in, and take a load off.” The stallion said. He led me to the table where the stallion ponies were eating their grub. It looked like they were eating some sort of meat, which I had never eaten before. He sat me down with the stallions to eat in the dim light, and I immediately felt awkward and misplaced.

“Heh heh,” One of the many male ponies at the table chuckled, “Try some of this, buttercup.” He sat directly across from me where I sat at the round table, and passed a crude plate of the same type of meat that they ate counterclockwise around among the ponies. The plate eventually slid in front of me.

The green stallion who ‘greeted’ me at the doorway was now sitting to my left.

“Go on, try it. We eat this stuff all the time.” Everypony at the table was watching me, and I had never felt so much attention—whether it be good or bad—in my whole entire life. Everypony stared at me until I took the first chomp.

I didn’t really understand the nature of the meat. I didn’t know where it came from or what it was the meat of. It seemed pretty cooked, but I couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure. But once again, I didn’t want to be rude when these ponies were being friendly towards me. Instead of using the only magic I know to lift the meat up to my face to eat it, I held it down with my hoof and leaned in to take a bite. After all, I didn't want to offend any earth ponies. I had to pull to tear the meat, when I found out the meat was attached to a bone. I must have been eating ribs, perhaps those of a hog.

“Good, eh?” The stallion across from me asked, with his mouth full of food.

The meat was actually delicious. Apples had grown monotonous, especially after being tainted by Industeadian air. Occasionally I would have an orange or something for my birthday, but that was about it. This meat, however, tasted like something totally different. It was cooked pretty well, and went down smooth. “Yeah, I like it.” I said somewhat shyly.

My taste buds and throat enjoyed it, but my stomach didn't agree.

Everypony continued their conversations. The stallion who passed me the food seemed to be telling a story, so I listened in. “So, as I was sayin’, it was just a few of us headin’ through Froggy Bottom Bog, and the waters were stirrin’. We weren’t scared at all when this huuuuge dragon-snake thing came up out of the swamp! It had like, seven heads with thousands of razor-sharp teeth and it tried to kill us! But luckily we were smarter than it and we outsmarted it and put a bullet in its many brains...”

This guy was a piece of work. Not only was he terrible at telling stories, but it probably wasn’t even true, considering he wasn't with anypony at the table in his story. It also couldn’t have even happened, because of two things. First off, ponykind is uncertain whether or not hydras—which were absurdly large multi-headed monsters—even exist. Secondly, their skulls are supposed to be much thicker than most any firearm is meant to penetrate.

But I really didn’t care. I was glad to have company and eat, so that’s what I did. The story was even slightly entertaining. When the story ended, I remembered why I was here and what my goal was, and now was the prime time to try to accomplish that goal.

“Does anypony know anything about Canon?” I couldn’t help but to ask. There were lots of ponies here, I figured that one of them had to have known.

Everypony stopped eating to look directly at me with a bit of an angry smirk. One of the huskier stallions asked grimly, “Whatcha wanna go there for?”

I didn’t really expect that question, but I answered vaguely to try and avoid it. “Business.”

They don’t need to know my business.

“Oh, really? You sellin’ stuff to those Red freaks? I don’t like those types...”

I immediately figured that it had to have been a Red Remnant outpost, and that these guys must have had some bad experiences with them. I had to change my strategy a little. “Oh no, I’m just meeting up with somepony in some time away from Canon. I was selling a few supplies to a local tribe in need.”

“Aww, you mean that old canned food factory the Reds settled in southwest? They ain’t nothin’ but a bunch o’ pansies!” One of the ponies retorted.

“Quiet, Crocodile,” a stallion in a vest sitting at the table said. “You know I have some bad blood with the RR, right? They’re pretty skilled, even if I don’t like them.” He lifted up his vest to show a series of stitches across a large gash on his chest.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself shot, Flynn!” The stallion who I now know as Crocodile retorted.

Flynn stood up and threw a hoof on the table, causing all the worn dishes and crude silverware to clang about in their places. “Are you suggesting I am incompetent?” Flynn seemed to be the only intelligent one in the group.

“Imcompe-wha? Naw, I’m just suggestin’ you’re bad at fightin’” Crocodile was outright insulting, and a brawl was about to ensue right there at the breakfast table.

“Woah, woah, ladies, ladies, calm down!” The green pony got up and mediated the conflict by keeping them apart with his hooves. “Not in front of our... guest here.” He turned to me and gave me a sort of grin.

Well if a fight was about to break out, I should leave. Besides, I need to get to Canon as soon as possible. “I think I’m going to go anyways, my customers don’t tend to enjoy waiting...”

“Oh, come on, stay a little longer...” The green stallion insisted.

“No, I can’t, I’ve already lost too much ground. I need to get going.”

“Well if you really have to...” The green stallion said. “I won’t stop you. But I do have something I want to give you before you go, it’ll help you on your journey.”

He led me to a door just a couple meters away from the door I came in at. He opened it and was a gentlecolt at doing so, as he stepped to the side, saying: “After you.”

“Err, thanks.” I proceeded into the room. It seemed to be the barracks of the gang. Cots lined the room, and lockers and desks could be found in different places around the room. There was one window, allowing light to pass through it and show me just how dusty the room was. He walked in, closing the door behind him.

“It’s just around the corner, it’s a pretty nice rifle I don’t use anymore...” I turned the corner to my right, where all I could see were lockers and cabinets of different types. There was really not much to the room. The walls were unpainted (but thrilled to know they weren’t spray-painted) and the room was a little bland.

I stepped to the side to allow the stallion to pass in front of me and I took a look around the room. I assumed that the weapon was in one of the lockers, and waited for him to pass in front of me to go open one. However, it took me a couple seconds to realize that he didn’t make it past me.

Which means that he lingered behind me for an uncomfortable few seconds.

I tried to turn around to see where he was, when I felt a foreleg wrap around me and I was thrust onto one of the nearby cots, sending my saddlebags and weapons sliding across the floor of the tree. He soon followed suit, leaping on top of me.

He did...unspeakable things after that. I won’t go into describing them, but it was horrible. He didn’t bother gagging me with anything, as screaming wouldn’t matter (which I did anyways, screaming like a filly until it prove futile). As this was happening, I couldn’t think straight but I quickly figured these ponies were bandits and I had fallen into their trap. They were in on it, too. And I just ate their food. I walked into their barracks. And now I’m getting destroyed. I wasn’t even straight, which made things twice as worse. How stupid could I be?

While I suffered this great, uh... pain, I had to formulate a plan before he tore up my insides. He seemed to forget that I was a unicorn and could cast magic, but all I knew how to do was levitate objects.

But that was perfect.

I stopped screaming and decided to take the pain for a little bit to try to focus. I looked at my saddlebags and tried to remember where everything was placed. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to focus my telekinesis, because of, err, what was going on. I wasn’t even sure I could cast magic at all.

And unfortunately, that was the case. Too much was going on inside my head, and... Well even more was going on above and behind me.

I made a valiant attempt to shove him off me. To my surprise, it worked. It shouldn't have, but it did. He fell to the floor and he was finally off of me. I wriggled my way under the cot and kicked it up, forming a barricade before he could get up. I telekinetically picked up the pistol from the post office out of my bag and pointed it towards him, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet sailed right through the green rapist’s brain. I suppose he wasn’t used to handling tomcolts.

I also suppose I was a sociopath at this point. It was the first pony I for-sure killed, and I was already having no regrets. Then again, I had to account for the things he did to me. My question was though, why aren’t the ponies in the dining room freaking out about the gunshot? Maybe all these stallions... kill their victims?

I think they think I’m dead, and that the green stallion is still alive, done with his business. I decided to take advantage of this time by looting the room. The stallion himself was definitely dead, as he suffered a bullet through the head. It was a disgusting sight, but he deserved much worse than a quick, painful death. His saddlebag didn’t contain very much, just a few bits, a pistol very similar to mine, and some naughty pictures. What a pervert. I took it all.

Don’t judge me.

The lockers didn’t contain very much. I did find it odd, though, that all but one of the lockers were unlocked. I found a few bits, some more pistol rounds, a grenade, a switchblade, some bandages, some miscellaneous medical supplies, and some more inappropriate profanity.

I took it all.

The locked locker was unsettling. I didn’t know what was in it, and I really wanted to find out. Breaking the lock would make too much noise and risked mangling it. So I decided to leave it for now.

Escaping this place was much more important. A burning rage and hatred for these ponies was building up inside of me, and I needed to direct that hatred to something... productive.

I found out that the window wouldn’t actually open, and I didn’t want to dive through it and risk getting myself all cut up. I also didn’t have anything to break it with other than my hoof. So, the best way, I think, is to kill them all and go out the front door.

Yeah.

I kind of wish I had some shades to put on so I could escape the building looking cool, but I needed to focus. I strapped the shotgun into the Spitfire Strap, and levitated the Laser Cannon—or whatever its name was—as well as the grenade.

I had never thrown a grenade before, but I knew what one was. All you do is pull the pin and throw. I thought about saving the grenade for later, but now was the perfect time. Plus, I wanted to retaliate on this group of rapists.

I kicked open the door with a hind leg, and telekinetically tossed a live grenade straight at the table. Shortly after closing the door, I heard a clank and an explosion half a second later, followed by a series of masculine shouts. I opened the door again to see the carnage left by the explosive.

I only saw three get up, the other four lay on the ground, lifeless, burned, and riddled with shrapnel. Charred remains of the plates, food, and table were scattered around the room.

The three that got up were as hostile as sharks that sensed blood. “What in Celestia’s fucking mane?! Kill her! She must’ve shot Pastures” I could hear among the crowd. “Imma show her a thing or two about comin’ in here and blowin’ the shithole to smithereens!“ I could hear once again, which sounded like Crocodile’s voice.

I popped my head and laser cannon out of the opening of the door and sent a beam of red light straight through a bandit's chest, and he fumbled to the floor. One of the others carrying a smaller type of gun in his mouth sent a quick rat-tat-tat of bullets into the door I hid behind, less than a foot away from my face. It was clear that he would perforate me if I intersected his line-of-sight.

I peered through the opening in the door yet again to find my next target. To my surprise, I couldn’t. Both of the remaining bandits were out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. I waited a minute to see if they would pop out, and I got down real low, while keeping an eye on the crack through the doorway. I saw the hoof of Crocodile shoot out from behind the corner, and a live grenade tumbled into the doorway, stopping at my hoof.

Fuck!

Panicked, I kicked the grenade with my foreleg back towards the opening of the door and jumped over my pre-made mattress barricade from before. Just in time, too. The explosion resonated through the whole tree, and shrapnel soared over the mattress. I’m lucky that none of it impaled the cot.

I slowly crept out from behind the makeshift barricade and swiftly hugged the wall adjacent to the door. Using my telekinesis to levitate my shotgun and my blood-stained bat out, I shimmied towards the corner of the doorway (or what was left of it, anyways). I stayed out of sight and waited for them to come in, looking for my body. That grenade really should have killed me.

I waited in awkward silence, trying to listen in on their whispers. They were communicating with each other, which I didn’t really like if I couldn’t hear it. They were on the opposite corner of the doorway, probably planning an attack. I didn’t really know what to think of it, and I really hope they didn’t have another grenade.

The whispering stopped, and I could hear muted hoofsteps coming towards the door. I thought about popping out and giving them two shotgun rounds, but I didn’t know what they were planning.

To my surprise, both bandits lunged out of the doorway into sight at the same time. Crocodile was to the other bandit’s right side, and was holding a combat knife in his teeth. The other bandit, however, was holding the submachine gun.

Both parties—the bandits and I—were startled by each others’ sudden presence. I telekinetically swatted at the other bandit’s face using the bat, and I managed to disarm him of his weapon, which scuttled across the floor to an empty bookcase. Due to a mixture of surprise and anger, as well as how tense the whole situation was, I let out two shotgun shells into the bandit instead of one. This meant that I didn’t have the second shotgun shell to use on Crocodile.

And he was coming at me with full force.

Before I could completely realize that the only weapon I had available was the bat, I felt a sharp, excruciating pain in my left flank. I collapsed to the ground while attempting to keep myself up, and I could see Crocodile leaning over me.

I tried to pick myself off the floor, but I couldn’t handle the pain and I was losing consciousness. It took me a second to realize that Crocodile left the knife inside of my flank. I had the idea of pulling it out telekinetically and stabbing him with it, but my magic was weak and even moving the blade caused great pain. Before I passed out, I heard a radio turn on and Crocodile say something into it.

“Ah have a potential slave t’ transport, boss. Lemme know what she’s worth when ya get here... I have somethin’ else t’ tell ya. Well, more like show ya.”

Comments

[Marq Harrihoof]

Why do I feel like I've read this story before?
No matter, it is a good story and hopefully it will continue.
I want to see how many "close calls" Rain can get

[Deathpony]

whens the next chapter cant wait for it

[StoryForge]

Chapter 5 will be here soon, please wait just a little longer. Thanks! I'm currently getting it ready for submission to EqD.

[Sb129]

Fo Sho, I need an update of some sort here