Even the Strong Need Help

by Charlie_K

First Entry

Despite his best efforts to exercise discipline and assert dominance, all efforts at not letting out a yawn utterly failed as Thunder Strike slowly trudged his way into the barracks showers, his hooves clopping against the pale blue tiles of the floor with each slow step taken as he tried to maintain both his balance and his vertical status. He'd already lost the early morning battle against yawning, but he was not about to let something as inconsequential as equilibrium get a win against him as well.

Yawning was a semi-voluntary reflex, so why he'd lost that particular battle made sense even in his current state. But not toppling over onto the floor was an entirely different matter. As long as he was methodical in his steps, his gait, and his speed as he made his way over to the closest stall, he would be alright. As soon as he got there, he could lean against the side wall for support and he'd be alright.

Sleep had not come for him when he'd needed it to last night. But that was neither an excuse to get out of working today, nor was it here nor there. Nopony at the palace, especially not the Royal Guard, were ever guaranteed a restful -or even a full- night's sleep between their respective shifts. He'd known that simple fact from the moment he'd signed up, and hadn't been deterred by it. He also knew he could run on less than optimum amounts of sleep, just as he had done numerous times before since the start of his Academy days.

Finally at his intended destination, he braced his body against the half-wall of the selected stall, before placing his right forehoof on the shower control and wrenched it as far as it could go.

Immediately his whole body went stiff as he forcibly clenched his teeth to bite back the yell at being subjected to the deluge that was at least ten degrees below what anypony's tolerance would be.

But it was having the desired effect. He was already feeling more awake and alert than just a moment ago, as his heart was beating, his blood was pumping and adrenaline was flowing. And with that alertness came awareness, including a vague awareness of having an entire eleven precious minutes before breakfast was to be served, in order to get finished up here, get dried off, get himself combed and presentable, get his armor on, and make his way to the palace mess hall in order to eat.

All in all, if he didn't dawdle, he might be able to make it there with thirty seconds to spare. Once there he could grab a cup -or three- of the strongest coffee the kitchen staff had prepared that would make even Spike and Twilight Sparkle gag, and get him through whatever his assignments for the day were.

"Maybe top it off with one of those five-hour energy shots available in the palace commissary for good measure," he mumbled to himself.

With all that in mind he pushed himself away from the wall and reached for the knob to turn off the water.

And that was where everything went wrong.

Perhaps he'd overextended himself when leaning over to reach the shower knob. Or perhaps he hadn't been focusing on his balance as much as he should've been. Or perhaps he'd been standing on some leftover soap residue that hadn't properly been cleaned up. Or perhaps he simply hadn't been paying close enough attention to what he was doing as he shifted his weight, and simply wound up moving in a manner that allowed his left hoof to slide right out from under him.

Exactly what the exact cause was, was entirely unimportant, as it didn't change the fact that he had slipped and fallen faster than he could catch himself and break his fall before he landed with a heavy thud.

His vision went hazy and unfocused, his senses disoriented as they tried to process and make sense of just what had happened a second ago.

"Owww..."

The groan was low and dragged out as he tried to rub his head with his right leg since it wasn't currently pinned underneath his barrel. He knew that he was hurt, just not the extent to which he presently was hurt.

As his vision finally cleared and he could reevaluate his surroundings, he became vaguely aware of the fact his left foreleg was currently bent at an unnatural angle at the cannon. He was also vaguely aware of the amount of pain he was currently experiencing in the limb. And perhaps more worryingly, the amount of pain that was lacking.

"That can't be good," he mumbled, aware of the fact the sensation of pain was there, but unable to really process it beyond it just being there; like a post-it note on the bulletin board that already had numerous other such notes tacked up there.

"I really don't need this right now..." he sighed as he tried to survey the extent of the damage, before giving up completely. It was broken and that was all he needed to know. "I'd better tend to that."

He wasn't the first Guard to have broken a bone, and he likely wouldn't be the last either. Although slipping in the shower wasn't exactly high on the list of causes for that. But that didn't really matter right now, as it wouldn't be found out.

He wasn't authorized to perform medical magic, but he'd spent enough time in the infirmary for one reason or another, he'd more or less learned the spell used for immediately healing bone fractures through observation alone. One quick casting and he'd be as right as rain, and able to stay on schedule. All he had to do was focus.

All he had to do was focus.

All he had to do was focus...

He slowly became aware of the fact that something was wrong here. He was focusing and concentrating, trying to push his mana into his horn to cast the spell so he could get back up on his hooves again, but nothing was happening.

"That's not good," he noted, now trying to figure out what to do otherwise. This was going to require a different course of action.

"Reparare."

If standard magic wasn't going to respond to his efforts, if he couldn't focus with his horn, he'd simply go the route of spoken incantations to get the job done. Perhaps not as flashy or as efficient in comparison, but it still worked.

Except it wasn't working right now. Despite speaking the incantation, his leg was still bent at the same awkward angle. Had he mispronounced it? He'd try again.

"Reparare."

He'd been more careful, more deliberate in his pronunciation, just in case he'd emphasized the wrong syllable. But the results were just the same as last time.

"Reparare," he spoke again, straining the word as he tried to focus everything on making it work, certain he was saying it just right this time.

His foreleg continued to remain bent at an awkward, unnatural angle, as if it were mocking him for his own ineptitude.

"Alright, don't panic, that'll only make things worse. Stay calm and focus on your training. Take stock of the situation, and evaluate what you know. Your left foreleg is currently broken and pinned under you. Unicorn magic is proving unresponsive, and spoken incantations aren't working either. Why this is, we don't know yet. But it's obvious that you're not resolving this situation without outside assistance."

If medical magic wasn't going to solve this situation, he was going to need to go the old school route. He was going to need to get up, and get himself to the infirmary to get fixed up by Dr. Malar instead.

"I'll have to skip breakfast if I want to stay on schedule," he muttered as he focused on resolving himself for what was needed of him, certain that whatever numbness he was currently experiencing was going to come to an end as he got up. "Got to do what you've got to do."

He tried to push himself up, despite the awkward position he was currently in, but found he wasn't getting anywhere. He was still laying on the shower floor, with his coat becoming ever-more waterlogged and saturated from the spray he'd failed to turn off before falling.

He tried again. Tried to push himself up, tried to roll over onto his back, tried to do anything to move, but nothing worked. His body was proving to be unresponsive to his demands it cooperate. Unresponsive and oh so very heavy right now. And the more he strained to even get an inch of movement from a single limb, the heavier it felt like it was.

"Move. Just... just move..."

Pushing through pain was nothing new to him. Exhaustion, muscle cramps, soreness, and other injuries encountered over the course of his duties had been encountered and worked through before. It was just a matter of having enough determination and dedication to tell the body to stop complaining and cooperate.

But it wasn't working now. Despite his best efforts, despite his stubborn intent, his body was refusing to respond. Even when he focused with all of his might to force his right foreleg to move even just a single inch, it refused to heed his demands.

"Move... please..."

He couldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he demanded, begged, of pleaded, his body simply refused to obey. It wouldn't stand, it wouldn't even crawl. He couldn't even hold his head up any longer right now. All he could do was lay there, feeling more and more exhausted for his efforts.

"Three seconds, recruit! You have exactly three seconds to pick your worthless self up off that floor right now!"

He had just about closed his eyes when that voice thrust itself into the forefront of his mind. He recognized that voice very well, unable to ever forget the screaming of his Drill Instructor back at the Academy.

"You have the nerve to call yourself a Royal Guard? You're an embarrassment to everypony who ever dedicated their lives to the organization!"

Something deep within him stirred at those words resonating in his skull. Something that demanded a response from him. Demanded that he prove otherwise.

Grunting, he strained against the exhaustion, against the lead-like sensation that'd settled deep into his bones that demanded he remain where he was.

"You pathetic maggot! My grandmother lived to be one hundred and two, she only had three legs, and she could still run circles around you!"

He clenched his teeth, focusing every bit of his will on moving his body into an upright position. He would stand. He would stand up.

"Do I seriously need to tuck you in for a nap, you baby!? Are you a foal!? Do we need to bottle-feed you!?"

Every single muscle in his body protested, practically pleading with him to abandon his current course of action before something terrible happened.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a glue pile, it's no wonder nopony ever wanted to take you in! Did you run away from the orphanage, or did they throw you away with the rest of the garbage!?"

Something deep within him broke at those words, snapping like a tie down chain that'd been ratcheted far too tightly. Something that he hadn't even known had ever been there. He would not tolerate such negative thoughts berating him for failing, because he refused to fail. He was a Royal Guard and he would prove his worth.

He pushed. He pushed hard. He pushed with more might than he'd ever used before, unable and unwilling to accept anything less than outright success. He strained both with and against every single fiber of his entire being, refusing to heed to the protests of weakness. Even if he tore his body apart in the process, he was going to stand back up again.

He clenched his teeth, furiously sucking in breath after breath while biting back the groaning his body desperately wanted to unleash as he strained to pick his head up off the wet floor, spurred on by a refusal to give up, pushing harder for this than anything else he'd ever strived for in his entire life. He pushed himself even harder than he had to get into the Guard. He pushed as if the fate of the world itself hung in the balance of him getting up off the shower floor, opening his mouth to finally holler with all the might his strained lungs could deliver as he finally lifted his head up off the ground.

And then he physically collapsed against the floor, the solitary inch of elevation he'd managed to fight for vanishing in an instant as his head made contact with the tiles once again.

All he could do was lay there, gasping for air, unable to even focus his eyes at the moment. All of his efforts, all of his focus and determination, utterly wasted as he remained in a pathetic heap, feeling like his whole body was suddenly made of lead. Utterly defeated by his own ineptitude, and his inability to overcome his own physical weakness. Even just breathing right now felt like it was more effort than he could physically muster.

"I'll just... lay here and close my eyes for one minute. I'll catch my breath, then I'll try again..." he mumbled as the strain of keeping his eyes open finally proved to be too much for him, as the last traces of alertness brought on by the cold shower washed away.

With a reluctant sigh and a half-hearted acknowledgement of his own failure, he finally allowed his eyes to slowly close, heeded the pleas of his exhausted body, and surrendered to the soothing siren's call of the cold tiles beneath him.

Comments

[ChakatRedstripe]

Interesting start

[ramdom_player201]

Looks good, look forward to seeing how this plays out.

[Bronycommander]

always nice to see a royal guard stories, poor guy though.

Does he require a fellow guard to help?

[Phetiamwantip]

This is very good. I'm giving you six stars for doing a good job. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[Snaproll]

Ya know there ain't no rest for the wicked
Money don't grow on trees.

This is very good, and I've been where this character is. Solid stuff.

[hydra30]

Thunder Strike should remember anatomy training. You can only push yourself so far for you can only take so much. If he hadn't broken his leg I am sure cardiac arrest wasn't too far away, your heart is a muscle that functions involuntarily after all and no amount of self discipline will change that.