Not Everyone's a Hero

by Rainwalker12

Chapter 4: Necessary

Chapter 4: Necessary

“Almost...done…” Foggy muttered to himself wearily as he pulled away from the last house. It has been a rather long hour or so, delivering pizzas across town, but in the end, it was done. Now all that was left was to drive the car back to the Pizzeria and help Sunset finish her preparations for the dance tonight.

RIIING! RIIING! RIIING!

Again, his phone seemed to buzz every time he was at work. Luckily, the car had a Bluetooth speaker gadget, so he could simply push a button and speak without needing to use his phone. Lucky for him, because the cigarette clamped between his fingers and hanging out the window would’ve complicated things otherwise.

With a sigh, Foggy checked the number, finding that he recognized it. He pressed the button and spoke. “What is it now, Shimmer?”

“Ah, Foggy… there have been complications. Celestia extended the ballot submission to tonight because of how trashed the gym was and how a lot of people are changing their minds, and.. well, there’s a lot of people who like Twilight now.”

Foggy swore. “Shit, what’re we going to do about that?”

“Well, I may have a solution. Canterlot isn’t the most well off neighborhood, so a lot of the kids wouldn’t say no to money.”

“Bribery, eh? Not the best option, but it’s something. Better pull out your golden fund for this…”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Sunset said rather nervously.

A brief pause, before… “Sunset. Please don’t tell me-“

“I’m almost out of money, okay?” Sunset whispered quickly. Foggy groaned and slammed his head onto the car wheel.

“Really? You had a sack or two of literal gold coins. Where did all that go?”

“Well, paying for an apartment isn’t cheap, and I like to look fashionable when I can. Leather isn’t cheap, you know.”

“Sunset, Sunset, Sunset… where am I going to get enough money to bribe a bunch of students? Can’t you just sell some of your stuff?”

“Well, not before tonight. It’d take a few days to find a buyer if we want enough to bribe enough people, so that wouldn’t work.”

Foggy ran a hand through his hair with one hand anxiously. Before he could respond, he had to swerve as he was nearly hit by another car.

“HEY, WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING, ASSHOLE!” He shouted at the other driver, an older man who flipped him off. “Damn old folks, probably can’t even see the road in front of them.” He muttered, a small laugh from Sunset answering his shout.

“So, any ideas on how to get the money? If not, we might be able to think of a different way, or just steal the crown, but I’ve got an uneasy feeling about those girls.”

Foggy scoffed. “Yeah, right, they’re just girls! What could they do that would defeat us? Become friends with us?” He laughed at the idea.

“Actually, knowing Equestria that might not be impossible.”

Foggy sobered up instantly. “Oh. Well, I might have an idea.”

“Really?! What is it?” The excitement and hope in Sunset’s voice were almost palpable.

“I’ve done some pretty bad things in this world, and I’m rather adept at theft. I could head down to the poorer sections of town and see what I find and who I can ‘liberate’ a couple hundred from. The police report would take a day to find me at least, and by then we’d be already in Equestria. Sound good?”

“Whatever you need to do to get us home, do it. I’ll meet you in front of the school before the dance. Don't be late, okay?”

“Sunset, do you really think I’d be late to the thing we’ve been working towards for years now?”

“...fair enough. Just be there, or else I’ll have to use one of my less favorable backup plans.” Her voice was devoid of concern when she spoke, something Foggy noticed with no little amount of alarm.

If she leaves without me… no, what am I saying? This is Sunset we’re talking about; cruel, manipulative, but not a betrayer. I’ll be fine.

Right?

Foggy shook his head, clearing his thoughts as quickly as they’d come. “Yeah, I’ll be there with whatever I can get. See you then.” Foggy pressed the red ‘end call’ button and slumped in his seat, massaging his head with a free hand as he took in the information.

Ugh, where am I going to get enough cash? There are only so many things I can do…

All I have on me is a can of pepper spray and a switchblade so that rules out an armed robbery of a shop. Not like I have anything other than that airsoft gun, anyway, but it’s back in my truck. If we’re going to do this, I can’t afford to waste time.

I don’t have enough savings to be enough to bribe a single student, let alone the entire school! That only leaves me with one choice…

I’m going to have to rob somebody in the streets.

—————

The late September winds pushed white clouds across the sky, painting a picture of beauty and innocence in the early evening air.

Foggy, however, waited patiently in an alley outside of a general store in the seedier parts of town, carefully scanning each occupant as they exited it for who to steal from.

One of the first things Foggy had learned living on the streets was how to choose targets. Criminals didn’t just pick anyone or any place; there was a careful consideration that went into every action, something Foggy still used even in his ‘safer’ life.

For example, he’d chosen Vendor’s General Store for a reason. Simply put, it contained everything one could need, from canned food and cigarettes to fur coats and cell phones.

It was also one of the only places in the less police-infested part town that one could purchase those items usually restricted to the upper class, like the aforementioned fur coats and expensive jewelry.

Nobody would ever rob it, though; the owner, Supply Vendor, was known to be associated with one of the larger gangs in Canterlot, the Thunderhooves, and if anyone messed with him they were found either shaking and delirious in their house or rotting in a dumpster.

That didn’t mean Vendor minded mischief going on outside of it, though.

Due to the goods available, it was often frequented by wealthier citizens of Canterlot who lived near it, usually the wives of gang members or even the occasional ‘noble’ who wanted a discount on their usually expensive items. So, all Foggy had to do was wait for one of those wealthier women to come by, rob her of all her money while holding her at knifepoint, and book it back to Sunset in time to go through the portal.

Simplicity itself, right?

Now all that was left to do was scan the crowds leaving the store. Something Foggy was rather good at; he hadn’t robbed too many people, but winter was cold in Canterlot and he did what he had to do.

His eyes passed over an older man, dressed in mismatched clothes that were obviously too big for him. Foggy deduced that he was impoverished, shown by his ragtag clothes and the bag of canned beans he clutched close to his side. Foggy respectfully looked away from him, instead tracking the next possible victim. After all, Foggy had once lived and slept on the streets, and he knew that making eye contact with paranoid, possible feral men never ended without a fight.

The next possible victim was a woman, with two kids clutching to her arms. She looked rather middle-class or lower, due to her fraying scarf and the obviously cheap clothes of her children. No use robbing someone who was barely getting by with kids as it was. One of the kids looked up at Foggy as they passed, and he quickly tightened his grey hood around his face, masking his identity.

He waited a few moments, and out from the store walked an optimal target. Female, dressed in extravagant white fur and brandishing a fat purple purse. Her lilac skin was without marks, and her long green hair looked well-kept. Foggy chuckled.

She’s the perfect target! This’ll be easy-

Foggy’s internal thoughts froze as a hulking man stepped out from the shop as well, following behind the woman in an obvious escorting fashion. With the appearance of the bodyguard, Foggy ducked back into the alley, all thoughts of attacking her gone.

She’s guarded; damn, that sucks. She would’ve been easy to take from. Now I have to find someone else… fuck.

After waiting a few minutes to make sure the bodyguard and his charge had left, Foggy poked his head back out to survey the streets. Nobody really hung around this part of town, so the streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional person walking hurriedly with their face down and hood up.

That just meant fewer witnesses for Foggy, which was always good in his book.

He waited for a few more minutes, silently scanning the figures that walked out of the store, usually alone in their endeavors. From the young man with a wandering eye to the elderly woman in a wheelchair, none of them caught his eye as someone who had enough money on them to be useful to him.

Then, after a total of about twenty minutes waiting, a sufficient victim walked out, noticeably alone. She was rather short, with strangely familiar orange skin that Foggy couldn't quite place, and deep blue hair that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. She wore expensive leather clothes, stamped with one of the more luxurious brand names. A small white purse hung at her side, with a large black wallet just peeking out.

In other words, nearly perfect for robbery. The only better thing would be if she didn’t have a cell phone bulging out of her pocket, but that was just wishful thinking.

Now, Foggy had to act quickly or she would be away.

He waited until she passed him in the alley, skulking in the shadows, before briskly walking out the moment she passed. “Ma’am? You dropped something.” He called out to her, digging his hand into his pocket and pulling out the item he’d prepared for this encounter a half-hour earlier: a crisp 20-dollar bill, the remnants of his last paycheck that he’d gotten recently.

She turned, and something in her violet eyes was familiar to him, again, but he just couldn’t place it. That wasn’t important, though; what was important was that she took the bait.

And she did. She turned, not a trace of suspicion in her eyes. “Oh, thanks! It must have fallen out.” She obliviously drew closer, nearer to the alley. While Foggy’s left hand held the bill outstretched, his right hand grasped the can of pepper spray sheathed in his back pocket.

The moment she crossed the boundaries of an arm’s length, Foggy’s right hand shot forward, can of pepper spray in its grasp. His left hand swiftly pocketed the bill and drew a small switchblade from his other pocket, brandishing both at the woman.

“If you fucking scream, you’re in for a world of hurt. Now, come with me.” The woman gaped at him in terror, the words failing to register in her brain. Foggy waited a moment, then jabbed the knife in her direction. “Well? Come on, I haven’t got all day; step into the alley.” With a sudden jerk, the woman nodded furiously and made her way into the alley, eyes locked onto the knife the entire time. Foggy followed her, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching.

“Okay, so this is how it’s going to work. You give me all the money you have on you and whatever expensive things you have, and you’ll walk away without getting sprayed and stabbed. Do you understand me, or do you need to be shown what’ll happen if you don’t do what I say?” Foggy growled, adrenaline rushing through his body.

Foggy loved the feeling of being truly alive; whether in a fight, robbing someone like now, or even when he pushed Twilight through the portal. His mind cleared, his senses sharpened, and he felt like he could sprint a mile without stopping. He wasn’t a huge fan of doing whatever activated an adrenaline rush, but in his life, it had become more than necessary.

“Do you know who my boyfriend is? You’re dead when he finds out.” The woman snarled, but the fear in her eyes told Foggy that her tough demeanor wouldn’t last long.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Now, hand over the purse or I’ll take it from you after leaving a few holes.” Foggy grunted. Why should he care who her boyfriend was? The only people who mattered in this part of Canterlot were gang bosses or drug dealers, and he wouldn’t be around long enough to face those consequences anyway.

“Okay, okay, just don’t hurt me, alright?” The woman gave in, her obvious fear of the weapons he held far outweighing her desire to keep her purse. She held it out shakily, and he snatched it with the hand holding the knife. After all, if she ran he could spray her from a distance and then move in with the knife.

Foggy wasn’t a murderer, in his eyes at least. He was a deliverer of justice, and Equestria had not seen the difference between those two. Still, he wasn’t here to kill anyone over a wallet; the most he would do was rough her up a bit if she ran, and frighten her enough to make his point.

Foggy combed through the purse with one hand, the can of pepper spray remaining outstretched, pointed directly at her face just in case. From what he gleaned from his cursory glance, the purse was rather fancy, with a small mirror inlaid in the interior side. There was a small plastic bag containing various makeup tools and items. These were rather unimportant items on their own, but what carried true value was the thick, black leather wallet tucked away in a side pocket. He grinned as he closed the purse and tucked it beneath his jacket.

“Alright, lady, beat it before I beat you. And if you tell anybody what happened here, I’ll find you, and you’ll be-”

“Well well, what do we have here?” A voice called out from somewhere behind Foggy, and ice ran cold through his veins.

Shit. This just got way too complicated.

Foggy turned away from the woman, who promptly dashed away a good 50 feet. Facing him were three figures, one of which he recognized as a rather rough gang leader, Snow Slice.

Snow was the benefactor and leader of the Phantoms, a small but well-known gang that had taken residence in the impoverished streets of Outer Canterlot. While Foggy didn’t know too much about Snow himself or the gang as a whole, he did know that they had a reputation of being ruthless.

“Oh, did we interrupt something? Well, usually I’d let it slide since I’ve got a soft spot for kids, but that’s my girlfriend you’re stealing from,” Snow ended with a snarl. The two cronies, both older and snaggle-toothed men, leered down at Foggy with amusement in their eyes.

Now, Foggy was a rather proud individual, but even he knew that a purse was not worth his life. So, he did what any reasonable person in his situation would do;

“I’m so sorry, I’m just so hungry, I only wanted enough for a hot meal or two!” He threw himself to the ground, clasping his hands together and looking pleadingly up at the gang members. One of the cronies faltered in his glare for a moment, but a look of reassurance from Snow resumed it.

“Ha, nice try kid. We heard everything you said, about how you were going to… what was it? Take her purse and leave her with a few holes? No, we can’t let that slide, sorry kid. Get ‘em, boys!” With the decree, the two minions jerked forward, leaping at Foggy while drawing sections of broken pipe or baseball bats to use as a weapon.

Hearing the command to attack, Foggy wasted no time in raising the can of pepper spray from its place in his hand up to the height of the men’s noses and pressed down on the button to spray, at the same time as he jumped to his feet and high-tailed it out of there. He valued his life way more than some dumb purse or his pride, so he tried dashing away as fast as he could.

When he pushed the button, a thick cloud of red sprayed out of the small can, choking the air around one of the men. Foggy felt his eyes begin to tear up just from the proximity, but the man took the brunt of the attack. He immediately began to cough furiously and frantically paw at his face with one hand, dropping the bat he was holding and eventually staggering away to breathe.

The other man was too far to the left to be severely impacted by the cloud, and Foggy only had time for one quick blast. As he dashed away, Foggy could hear the panting of breath and the clatter of feet close behind him. He tried to run faster, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins wasn’t enough.

He had almost made it to the next alleyway over when a heavy blow struck him across the side of the head, sending him tumbling to the ground in a pile of hurt. A second strike landed across his ribs, courtesy of the pipe held by the unharmed man. Foggy curled into a ball, covering his head with his hands until the man hoisted him up by his hoodie, his ears ringing with a painful hum.

This isn’t good, I’m literally helpless here. What should I- no, what can I do?

The cold, cold evening air burst across Foggy’s face as he hung in the air, gripped by the back of his jacket by the man. He shut his eyes involuntarily as the man’s hot breath washed over him when he leaned closer. Foggy had to force himself not to gag; his attacker’s breath carried the harsh, stinking scent of fish.

“Well now, you’ve made things complicated. We were going to just take your stuff and rough you up a bit, but now… now you’ve attacked my men and caused a scene. Tell me, what do you think we do with people like you?” Snow laughed, casually walking forward to stand ten or so feet away from where Foggy lay limp in the man’s grasp. The man holding Foggy reached over with his other hand and grabbed at his hair, painfully pulling his head up to face Snow.

“Well… let’s just say we make sure they don’t go blabbing off to any cops.” Foggy heard through the ringing in his ears. He blearily opened his eyes to see the last thing he ever wanted to see in a situation like this.

Snow had a gun.

It was a handgun, and albeit rather small, but a gun nevertheless. Strapped to his side, Snow had a hand laid on it, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. And as Foggy began to involuntarily shift away from it, in one slow, slow motion Snow carefully lifted it out of its holster, raising it and pointing it at Foggy.

And Foggy found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

A wave of primal fear swept through him. Sure, he’d seen guns before and had even practiced shooting with the airsoft gun that was so essential to his plans, but he’d never had to stare down a very real firearm while being held in place by another man. There was something about the gun that simply terrified him, and Foggy had been in very dangerous situations before. Hell, he’d had to fight his first troll with nothing but a bow and a dagger before he was six back in the Glades. There was an age difference between humans and ponies, but still: he’d even been chased by a hungry manticore!
But the gun… the sheer notion of it unsettled him. The ability to stand hundreds of feet away, and kill someone with but the pull of trigger? With a bow, properly aiming and even drawing the bow was difficult without years of training, and there was always the chance that the wind would knock it off course. But with a gun, and at this close range? It was practically guaranteed to hit him.

Luckily for Foggy, the gang leader didn’t seem too intent on killing Foggy, as the firearm wasn’t pointed at his head. Instead, it directed itself at his shoulder. A non-lethal shot by itself, but it would hurt like a bitch and probably wouldn’t be the only shot he’d receive.

Holy fucking shit, I might die here. If you can hear me, oh Holy Three, please don’t let me die here.

And if I do, please give my brother a proper burial.

Valuing his life far more than his pride, Foggy decided that begging might work in his favor. “Please, don’t hurt me! I really need to be somewhere tonight. It’s the most important thing that will ever happen to me, and I really need it to go well. Take my money, take everything I have… hell, even take what’s left of my eye, but please just let me go.” He pleaded. “I’m just a kid, I only needed this stuff for food anyway. My ma’s really sick, and I need to go help her or else she might die.” He added in a few lies as well, hoping they would sway Snow in his favor.

Snow hesitated for a moment, the gun drooping slightly. For a moment Foggy felt hope burn in his stomach like a ball of fire, starting small but growing larger with each second of silence.

Then Snow grinned like a shark, all teeth and malice. “You’re good, kid, almost got me there for a second. But I’m better. Sorry kid, you messed up big time here.”

And Snow pulled the trigger.

BANG!

Foggy gritted his teeth and shut his eyes as the trigger was pulled, and the bullet impacted into his shoulder with a sick thwump. In the first few seconds, all that was felt was the feeling of something pass through him and a strange wetness on his shoulder.

Then the pain flared bright, hotter than the flames that gave Foggy his scars.

Foggy let out a pained groan, his hand automatically coming up to cover the wound. By the feel of his back as well, it seemed that the bullet went in one end and out the other. A clean shot, and something Foggy would have been grateful for if he wasn’t in agony.

“That one was for stealing from my girlfriend and attacking my friend.” Snow casually remarked, sounding like he had just observed that it was raining instead of having just shot someone. He lifted the gun again, and Foggy cringed away from it, the fear and pain pulsing through him again.

BANG!

Another impact, this time below the stomach. The bullet pierced deep into his gut, and the deep tearing sensation in his groin didn’t bode well for Foggy. The pain intensified, and he was left nearly writhing in anguish as he was roughly dropped, collapsing into a ball on the ground.

“And that one? That was for lying to me. What do you think, boys? Has he learned his lesson, or does he need a third-”

A police siren began to wail, sounding rather close. Very close, in fact.

“Shit!” Snow hissed, turning away from Foggy to face the opening of the alleyway. “It’s your lucky day, kid. We’ve got to skedaddle, boys!” The three gang members clumped together and moved past Foggy, leaving with a parting kick to the ribs.

For a few moments, Foggy was alone in the alley. Quite possibly bleeding out, exhausted, and in a lot of pain.

He forced himself to his knees, and then shakily to his feet, leaning against the alley walls to support himself. A trail of blood followed him, and he knew the woozy and sleepy feelings building up inside him were not good, not good at all.

“Hey, is someone there?” A voice called out from the mouth of the alley. Foggy turned his head just enough to see a blue-clad officer, who immediately began making his way down to him at the sight of the wounded youth. “Hey kid, are you okay? What happened?”

This day can’t get any worse, can it? If they take me to the hospital, they’ll probably find out about the real Foggy’s death, and then it’ll be all over for me. I hate to say it, but I’d rather take my chances escaping here than get taken in by this cop.

Foggy staggered down the alley, turning at the intersection ahead. The officer began to jog after him, obviously concerned now. Foggy glanced around desperately for something, anything he could use. His pepper spray and knife were on the floor way back there, and he had no intention of going back for them. In his desperate search, his gaze finally alighted upon the section of pipe wielded by one of the thugs, presumably left behind in their flight. With the hand not placed against one of his wounds, Foggy hefted up the pipe, pressing up against the wall.

The second the officer turned the corner, Foggy lurched into action. He pushed all his weight into the blow, sending the rusty pipe crashing into the skull of the officer. The man dropped like a rock, tumbling to the floor and taking the pipe with him as it fell from Foggy’s shaking fingers.

His hand found its way to his pocket, frantically pulling out his phone and unlocking it as he staggered along the alley’s wall.

“I need to call Sunset. I need to call Sunset, holy shit.” Foggy muttered deliriously as he forced his legs to keep going as he grew weaker by the second. His head began to spin dangerously and he was finally forced to stop, crashing down next to the fire exit of a building. He pulled a large covering for the fire exit off of the ground, and pressed the cold fabric- too cold, just like him- against where the bullets entered and exited his body.

The shoulder wound wouldn’t be too much of a problem. While it sure hurt like hell, it was small and the only real danger was infection.

The gut wound, however, was the real problem. Deep inside his body, he could feel a strange torn sensation, like something inside him was broken. Blood poured out of it at a rather steady rate, and while the cover helped stem the flow a bit, his life essence was being drained at a rate that would not prove to be safe at all.

He was already feeling woozy and disoriented, and he estimated that in a few hours or so he might be dead. A gut shot was not the fastest to die from, and he wasn’t losing too much blood, but infection would set in quickly and without medical attention he would quite possibly die.

Through the haze, he managed to hit Sunset’s contact on his phone and start a call. He desperately put the phone up to his ear, awaiting the moment she responded among the beeps of waiting.

After a few moments… “Foggy, do you have the money? What’s going on?”

“Sunset. Sunset. I need your help.”

A brief pause. Then, “Uh, with what? You sound delirious, are you okay?”

Foggy managed to laugh, a hacking sound that sent pangs of pain wracking through his body. “Sunset, I’ve been shot. Twice, actually. I need you to come to the alley behind Soft Bed’s Apartments. I… I don’t think I can make it much longer.”

“I-what?! You got shot? Did you call an ambulance?”

“That’s the thing… I kinda can’t for an important reason, which is why I need your help. You know, work some of that Equestria magic with those potions or whatever you have.”

A longer pause this time. Foggy almost thought she had hung up until he heard a… a laugh?!

Yeah, a rather triumphant laugh.

“Well, this is even easier for me. You see, you’re a bit too violent for my tastes, you’d just get in my way back in Equestria. So, it’ll be so much easier having you out of the way here.”

Foggy gaped at the phone, in shock. “F-Fuck you, Shimmer! I thought we were partners, but I guess we were both just using each other.”

“Hm? You were using me too? Good job being sly about it, but that’s what’s getting you killed in the end.”

“Sunset, you can’t just leave me here! I-I’ve done so much for you, for us, and this is what I get back?”

“I would say sorry, but I’m actually not. So, goodbye, Foggy Horizons. I hope it goes swift for you.” A soft click marked the end of the conversation. Foggy groaned and rested his head back against the wall.

I am going to die.

The thought was surreal; after all this, after all the training and work and careful planning, this was how he was going to go? Bleeding out in an alley? He’d expected going out in a blaze of glory, taking down a horde of dragons with him, but this? This was just shameful.

I am going to die.

Oh Creepvine, this wasn’t how he wanted to go. His brother was still out there, not yet laid to proper rest, and he would stay that way if Foggy didn’t make it. All the strength was sapped from his bones, leaving him shivering in the cold and growing darkness. His eyes blinked, dazed and out of focus.

I am going to die.

Scoots would take care of herself, like she had until they found each other. She wouldn’t understand why he never came back; she’d probably assume he ran off to leave her and everyone behind. They’d find his body in a day or two, a few people from school might come to his funeral, everyone would be a bit shocked but secretly glad that he was no longer a menace.

Foggy wasn’t a perfect hero, and he knew it. In all the stories he’d heard as a colt in the Lower Glades, heroes were knights in shining armor that saved maidens and drove back evil, like the Holy Three. Now they were true heroes, not some kid who wanted to get revenge on a bunch of dragons.

He knew he just didn’t have it in him to be like the real heroes. He was too angry, too sad, too… confused. He used to be such a thoughtful and happy colt back when his tribe still lived, but ever since the attack he was changed. Since that fateful night, he’d been gripped with visions of grandeur and rightful revenge. The innocent colt Dusky was gone, and Foggy Horizons took his place now.

Foggy felt his vision begin to darken as the pain intensified, and the sleepy feelings grew. Oh, he was so tired. He just… wanted to… fall asleep. It would be so easy, too. Just close his eyes and let the darkness take him, and he’d finally get to rest.

And all his resolve was slowly fading, and his consciousness with it.

Before Foggy fell into unconsciousness, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty the stars beginning to blanket the sky were.

----------

A half hour or so later, a battered and bruised Sunset Shimmer pulled her way out of a smoldering crater. Tears filled her eyes, and she began to weep, lamenting at the wrongness of the actions she had taken for the past two and a half years.

She cried for all those she had hurt, all those who had lived in fear of her tyrannical rule at Canterlot High School, even for those who had worked for her and been forced to abide by her rules.

She wept for those six girls she had worked so hard to wrongly keep apart, ruining their friendships with but a few text.

But most of all, she shed tears for someone that for all she knew was dead. Someone who had been with her for the past two and half years, teaching her how to fit in and helping her achieve her goals. Sure, he had been using her as well, but he wouldn’t have betrayed her.

Sunset Shimmer cried for Foggy Horizons, and the world began to pour rain, as if weeping for him as well.

Author's Note:

Fear not, the story is not done! There's still plenty to come
Anyway, this is my first time writing a scene of this intensity, please let me know if you felt it was good or was lacking, or whatever you feel about it.
If you have any questions or remarks, feel free to comment or PM me.
Thanks for reading!

Comments

[risinglord74]

Well that escalated quick. I didnt expect foggy to get a mortal wound so soon. I'm just interested where it's going to go from here, especially with how he just straight up denied having medical help by bashing that police officer head.