• Published 25th Jan 2018
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XCOM: Ranger - Wanderer D



Sunset Shimmer escapes Equestria... with unforeseen consequences.

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Chapter 222: Demon

Ranger

Chapter 222: Demon

By Wanderer D

Bongani coughed, wrapping his arms around himself and making his way across what remained of the settlement where he lived. He waded through the debris, coughing in the smoke and dragging himself out of the muddy, treacherous waters. As soon as he was out, he cleaned the soles of his feet, painfully pulling and removing the sharp things that had pierced them.

He then started to stumble upwards, sidestepped around the dead, burnt bodies, too tired to think of what to do, only aware of how hungry he was… and when he smelled something sweet in the air, he scampered over to the metal-sheet ruins of a former home, ignoring the pain in his feet, or the sting and blood when he cut his arm on a sharp edge when he made his way in.

He dug around, pushing a burnt human hand out of the way until he found it buried under other things: a small, wrapped piece of something… it looked edible. Was this what he had smelled?

"Don't eat that."

He froze, fearing for his life. When he didn't die, he slowly turned around to face the woman who had spoken. She was tall, with red and gold hair and red eyes that glowed almost like flames. She was dressed in something dark, he couldn't say what it was. It was not the rags of what he and others wore.

She smelled like blood.

"Eat this," she said, not caring about the distrustful look he gave her. Somehow, although she was too far for it, a dark hand opened closer to Bongani that it could have possibly been. On the palm of the hand, there were several wrapped items of food.

Real food. The stuff sometimes his parents would bring at great expense from traders. Treats to be enjoyed once every few months.

Bongani was tired. So tired. "Is it poisoned?"

The woman shook her head. "You just look like you need it."

Hesitantly, he picked it up, watching her warily as he slowly unpacked it. It smelled so much better than the shit, burning meat and gas and death...

He took a bite, and then another, dragging the back of his hand over his face, trying to get rid of snot, tears and soot as much as possible without stopping his eating. His eyes turned to the ADVENT city nearby.

"What's your name?"

"B-bongani," he managed to say in between bites. He swallowed, the pieces of food feeling almost too big and pushing their way down his throat uncomfortably, but it was delicious. When he looked up, she was holding a bottle of water, from which he drank deeply.

His body ached.

"What happened here?"

"The rains had started earlier this year," he said, sitting down once he had finished the food. He threw the wrappers on the floor, next to the burnt hand. "There was… a river of mud, it killed a lot of people… my sister…" he swallowed. He would not cry.

She didn't say anything, simply watching him.

"They watched." He pointed at the city, coughing. "They watched. The elders went to ask for help. ADVENT came, but not to help. To burn. To kill. Everyone else died."

"You don't know."

Bongani shook his head. "Know what?"

The woman shrugged. "Nothing. So they watched?"

"Yes." Bongani turned to the city. "They watched as we drowned, and did nothing. They watched as we burned, and they did nothing. They watched as we were murdered for asking for help and did nothing."

The city had watched as they were butchered.

"That town has about… a thousand people," the woman said softly. "None came to help?"

Bongani shook his head once more. "No! None of them did."

The woman tilted her head and it was then that he understood something within his soul. This woman was not human. He didn't know how he knew. It was just something in the way her body had moved. The way she had watched him.

"What do you think their punishment should be?"

Bongani's body shook. "Aicha Kandicha," he whispered. "Why are you here? Why do you talk to me?"

"I am hungry," she replied and turned her attention from him to the city. "But I was wondering if I should eat or not. My food is in that city." She turned back to him. "So I came to ask you, Bongani, if I should show mercy to my food."

It took him a moment to understand that she was not here for him. He turned to look at the city.

"What do you think?"

A sudden sense of anger and frustration filled him. He looked around, he had never been in this house, but he knew it from outside. He never knew the people that lived in it, but he knew what they looked like. There were houses outside, including his own, buried under mud. Burning.

The only sounds outside were collapsing houses or flames or the slushing of waters or the sounds of predators coming in to feast on the dead. The ADVENT city glistened in the full moon. White and black and red. Shiny and square and oblivious.

"They do not," he whispered.

"There are almost a thousand beating hearts there, Bongani. ADVENT, men, women, children." She looked at him. "They are your own."

"They are not my own!" he countered. "If they were they would have helped! If they were they would have done something! How can they watch us die? And simply go to sleep?" He sunk into himself. "Have you come to judge me, Aicha Kandicha? Or kill me?"

"I have come for enlightenment. To see what humanity at its worst can say."

"What is humanity at its worst?" Bongani asked, waving his hand at the ruins around them. "Is it someone who suffers because those he loved, those he knew, are taken away? Or is it those who watch from their towers, uncaring about the fate of others? You asked, Aicha Kandicha. I have answered. They deserve to suffer, because they would let others suffer without lifting a finger!"

The woman seemed to contemplate his words.

"I am hungry," she said. "Are you sure you don't have a single reason why these humans would deserve a better fate?"

Bongani looked down at his hand. In better times, he would lift his hand and enumerate reasons to be kind and forgiving, using his fingers to count them as he did, much to the chagrin of his sister.

But he didn't raise a finger this time around. He balled his fists.

Later that night, still cold, still coughing and hurting, Bongani sat on the roof of the single remaining building in all his settlement.

Aicha Kandicha … woman or demon had left earlier, simply melting into the darkness. Feverish, he had later on thought back on the conversation, telling himself that he had imagined it all. That his anger and resentment had fed his imagination.

Then the screams had started. The sounds of gunfire, the alarms. And as he had walked, it had started raining again. But it was odd, foul smelling rain, that burned his eyes and seemed sticky… under the light of the nearby fire, he saw his arms and hands being covered in blood, just like the buildings and streets. Just like the white and black walls of the ADVENT city.

The screams and noises had lasted for hours until finally the whole city had gone black. Not a single light remained. Not a single sound. Not a single patrol or siren or anything. Just silence and blood.

Now, as he looked up at the white-blue moon, Bongani started to weep. He wept for his dead family and friends. For his ruined home. For his destroyed settlement. And he wept too… for the city of uncaring people that—for the briefest of moments—he could have saved.

But he hadn't lifted a finger.

o.0.o End Chapter 222 o.0.o

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