> Five Minutes to Midnight
>  by WinterShade
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 5...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“… and that is how Princess Luna defeated Nightmare Moon, thereby ridding us of her evil and restoring order to Equestria.” – the teacher finished her monotonous speech, leaving a few seconds of silence for her story to sink in.

In the ensuing murmur, the teacher’s eyes glossed over the uniform collection of foals sitting in rows before her as she carefully studied their expressions trying to judge how much attention they had paid. She noted that, although there were a few of them visibly interested in the subject at hoof, their eyes fixed on the timeline on the blackboard at the helm of the classroom,  it seemed that the majority cared little for their history. Or at least the version that the Ministry and the school board told them to teach.

Her gaze first reached a couple of fillies seated together near the wall, who, instead of listening to her, were silently whispering among themselves and drawing sketches in each other’s notebooks, occasionally giggling as one of them drew something funny. Next to them sat a group of similarly noisy colts who were also talking among themselves, but instead of doodling, they were apparently holding a competition of who will fold the best paper airplane. Just a row behind them, without a desk partner, sat a curious lithe blue-haired filly who seemingly ignored the chatter in front of her, choosing instead to stare out the window and into the distance. And behind her, in the last row before the back wall, sat one of the repeating students, who despite already failing a year, still seemed to take snoozing as a viable alternative to participating in the lesson. In the row next to him, lying on the desk in a similar fashion, was another sleeper – this one at least having the fact he worked on the farm as an excuse to doze off. In fact, it seemed that he was so tired that not even the passionate debate of the pair of Pegasi colts sitting in front of him disturbed his slumber.

“Rainbow Dash is the coolest Shadowbolt there is.” – the teacher heard one of them pipe as silently as possible, waving a crude drawing of his idol in front of the other’s muzzle. 

“You don’t know what you are talking about! Spitfire is a far superior Shadowbolt to Rainbow Dash.” – the second one argued back in a similar fashion, presenting instead his rendition of the aforementioned mare’s Cutie Mark.

Now, as much as Ms. Motte valued discipline and hard work, for some reason the aged teacher just couldn’t bring herself to scold the mischievous foals. Perhaps it was the fact that the next period was lunch break and she was well aware that any admonishment she might make will do little good. Currently the only thing on these foal’s minds was how they will jump out of the classroom and go play in the schoolyard. Or perhaps it was just the fact that, after all, they were still foals, and given the situation the entire land was in, every happy moment of their foalhoods is precious to them. Sure, the war seems to be going better now, and the press is making sure that everyone knows it, but a dark cloud still hangs over everypony. She knows too well that many of these foals have parents on the frontlines - some still fighting what seems to be the second greatest battle ever and others who already lost the greatest one. And even those who are not directly fighting are working day and night to supply the frontlines, toiling in mines, farms and factories. Finally, the ever-present rumours of Zebra’s acquiring a powerful new weapon certainly don’t help. To be honest, it’s a miracle the spirits are this good.

But still, despite all this, some authority has to be maintained. The war will end and then somepony will have to rebuild the county once all this is done. And they can’t do that without hard work and discipline.

“Alright class.” – the teacher resumed in a firmer and louder tone, hoping to catch everypony’s attention. – “I hope you paid attention because we will now be having a short quiz on what you just heard.”

At the mention of a test, everypony in the classroom, even those previously sleeping, suddenly jumped in their seats, their awareness turning to the front of the class and the teacher. All of a sudden, a different kind of commotion erupted in the room as the foals scrambled to their (MoI-approved) history books, frantically listing in hopes to quickly obtain the missed knowledge. Countless years of history and lore were flown by in mere seconds as the quick little hooves searched for the correct story. Mildly amused, the teacher gave them a moment which she knew would make no real change, before telling them to pack their things and prepare a sheet of blank paper on which to write questions. 

The hastily obtained books now began a much slower descent back into school bags as the students tried to steal one last glance in a futile effort to cram as many facts into their little brains as possible. 

“Come on! The more time you spend on this, the less you will have for the quiz.” - the teacher hurried them along.

Finally, once everypony’s books and notebooks were safely out of sight, the teacher turned to the black board. As she enveloped a piece of chalk in her magical aura and brought it closer to the board, the tension in the room grew. Foals nervously glanced around, some desperately looking to their more attentive peers for assistance. Others, who didn’t have the luck of sitting next to someone who listens to the lesson, nervously poked their papers and the desks with pencils while massaging their heads with their other hooves. One of the fillies even seemed to be praying to Celestia to do something, anything, to stop the test.

Unbeknownst to them however, all of this was completely unnecessary as the old schoolteacher never really intended to grade the test. She just wanted them to squirm around a bit and perhaps listen to her a little more next time. In truth, she felt a little sorry seeing them all stressed out like this, but she knew it was too late to stop now. After all, what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger. With that thought in mind, she touched the chalk to the smooth dark surface, thinking of what question to pose first. It took her only a moment of thinking before she had it and was ready to start writing it. 

However, before she could draw as much as a line, the filly’s prayer seemed to have somehow come true as an ominous wail pierced the air. It grew louder and louder, soon drowning out any other sound. Its painful shriek was but a harbinger of the screams that were soon to follow…
> 4...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first reaction to the sirens was, to a clueless observer, an unjustifiably positive one. When the first screeches of the siren reached the ears of ponies operating the loud machinery – industrial presses and hissing steel furnaces – and the long assembly lines stopped to a halt, the workers simply stepped back from their stations; most of them taking the chance to wipe the sweat formed on their bodies from the hot fumes evaporating all around them. Some of them looked around, a bit confused – it was too early – but their quizzical gazes were only met with a few shrugs from their fellow workers who began standing up and away from their respective working stations. Nopony was in any hurry; there was certainly no panic like the one which has by now set in throughout Equestria. 

After all, where's the need for panic – it was lunch time for the colts and mares who worked in the city’s munitions factory. 

Sure, it seemed to have come a bit earlier than expected today, however, who were they to question the line manager’s decision. They had tried a few times in the past, but at no point did the countless negotiations and mediations actually achieve anything. Without their right to strike, since they were deemed a crucial asset, there was no real way to pressure anypony to change anything. And with the war going on, any public outcry would probably be frowned upon by the public which would view their protest as nothing short of treason towards the brave soldiers on the front. 

Besides, what were they thinking; a break starting early is certainly a positive thing. While they doubted it would extend the total respite time, as the factory was already falling behind on the imposed quotas, it still meant they may have time to come home earlier and maybe finally have  a proper meal with their foals and fillies instead of coming home while they were already sleeping. Twelve hour working shifts six days of the week in addition to time lost on the train between the city and the factory meant they barely saw their children as they had to leave before they were awake and came back when they were deep in their sleep. It was only on Sundays they had a chance to spend some quality time with the young ones, usually at the small MoM amusement park in the town’s centre or on the edge of the nearby forest (which they weren’t allowed to enter due to a research facility being situated somewhere in it).

And so, without much worry or strife, the ponies slowly began to line up and walk towards the steel doors on the other side of the factory hall, their minds already set on whatever tasty meal they whipped up for themselves the night before. Some of them occasionally broke the line, looking over the heads of the forming crowd in an attempt to find their friends or family who also work here with them. It was a practice in the factory to keep most family members or close friends away from each other on the lines so as the interaction would not affect their focus and efficiency, both of which were in high demand when making bullets and artillery casings. At first it was a bit hard to keep track of everypony and assign them accordingly, since the majority of the ponies in the town who weren’t on the front lines worked here, but the managers eventually managed to optimize everything; allegedly with some help from the Ministry of Morale’s records.

However, as the uniformed crowd slowly converged on the exit, an unusual issue became harder and harder to ignore. The sirens, which the workers believed signified their long-awaited lunch break, wouldn’t stop blaring. They wouldn’t stop even as the ponies reached the tall exit doors and attempted to push them open to no avail. 

“What’s going on? Get on with it already!” – a burly earth pony shouted from the back of the crowd; his face still black from the briquettes they used to run the furnaces ever since the coal shortage began. 

A few ponies shouted similar remarks, raising their hooves and pointing them towards the ponies at the front of the hall, closest to the door. However, despite the unrelenting pushing and the ever-increasing disgruntled hecklers, the steel door still wouldn’t budge. Eventually the frontmost ponies gave up trying, motioning for others to try themselves if they believed they would have more luck. 

They didn’t.

Only now had the panic started to slowly force the ponies in its uncomfortable embrace. The sirens were still blaring and the only way to exit the huge facility was stuck, seemingly locked. Something was definitely wrong. 

“Why won’t it open?” – another earth pony shouted in frustration after the door seemingly ignored yet another impact of his forelegs against its metal surface. – “And won’t those damn sirens stop already?”

“’Ey look!” – one of the ponies in the crowd shouted, pointing his finger at the small maintenance bot that was coming around the corner. – “Why don’t we ask the robot? It should know what’s going on.”

This proposal earned quite a few nods in agreement as the pony closest to the robot stepped forward and addressed the hovering ball. He needn’t wait long for the reply.

“Due to the state of emergency, this factory is currently under lockdown.” – the monotonous metallic voice stated matter-of-factly, barely even stopping his movement. – “This is for your protection. Please remain calm until the state of emergency has ended.”

Not even waiting around for the announcement to sink in, the robot hovered away, its metallic appendages swaying from side to side as it rounded the opposite corner.

The resulting silence was quickly broken by a murmur of conflicting voices, their fates already decided by a balefire missile recently launched in a land far away.
> 3...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been minutes since the sirens started their whining and everypony had pretty much gotten used to the sound by now. It was still an uncomfortable intrusion, but after longer exposure it was becoming bearable. This was especially true for a frazzled scientist who was frantically running around his laboratory, his white lab coat twirling behind him thanks to the temporal gusts of wind his sudden movement created. In this state, he seemed to pay no attention to anything outside his wild chase as he rushed between his computer terminal, a setup with bubbling flasks and a hastily scribbled backboard. If he heard the sirens’ loud whine or noticed his colleagues running by his small room, he gave no indication, instead focusing solely on whatever no-doubt revolutionary work he was in process of doing.

This work was, however, of less interest to a young soldier who came by his lab with clear orders to evacuate all personnel. When he came upon this frenzied scientist, his first reaction was that of surprise. He believed everypony had already left as soon as the alert started. Still, after a second he composed himself and sternly approached the door, knocking against the frame in an, what he soon realised would be a fruitless, attempt to capture the attention of the pony inside. He tried again, but once more the loud impact of the soldier’s rifle butt against the wooden frame elicited no reaction.

“Figures.” – the soldier said to himself as he entered the room. – “If the obnoxious screeching hadn’t distracted him, I should have known this wouldn’t either.”

Instead, the soldier opted for a more direct approach, hastily marching towards the centre of the room, near where the scientist placed his setup. As he approached, he could hear the pony speaking to himself incoherently, his mind deeply engrossed in whatever he was working on. So deeply engrossed in fact, that even a shout earned only a slightest glance before the pony in the lab coat lowered his eyes on the computer once more. 

“Sir, you have to come with me.” – the soldier tried again as he was starting to get irritated by his co-speakers' lack of reaction. – “A general evacuation of the facility has been ordered.”

Once again, the pony ignored him as he simply pushed past him and towards the bubbling flasks.

Now clearly annoyed, the soldier decided to once again switch tactics and firmly grabbed the pony as he was making his next run past him.

“Let me go.” – was all the scientist said, as he tried to break free of the grasp.

“Sir, listen to me!” – the soldier shouted, trying to drag the pony towards the exit. – “Everypony is leaving the complex and I have been ordered to ensure everypony is safely out.”

“Look, I don’t care about your orders.” – the other pony replied in an annoyed tone.  – “I have work here to do and I will not abandon it. Just leave me and get out already.”

Now, this really angered the soldier. Here he was, trying to help this stuck-up researcher, and he had the nerve to order him what to do. He hoped this would be a simple sweep, but it seemed it became increasingly hard by the second. And after all this, in all honesty, he considered just leaving the pony here. However, he knew he would likely have a bad time with the commander if she were to find out he disobeyed the orders and left one of her precious brains behind.

“I have my orders!” – the soldier shouted, once again yanking the smaller pony he was holding. – “You will now leave with me, whether you want it or not.”

“I would disagree.” – the scientist shouted back, using the momentary respite after the yank to break free. – “I know you wouldn’t understand, but I am working on something revolutionary here.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn.” – the soldier said as he attempted to once again grapple the other pony.

“Great, then we are on the same page.” – the scientist deadpanned, spinning on of his hind hooves to reach the computer terminal. – “Now leave me."

“If you won’t leave…” – the soldier started, raising his rifle and aiming it at the experiment which was in progress on the table next to him.  – “…then I will have to force you to.”

This threat finally seemed to get the desired reaction from the scientist as he looked the soldier in the eyes for the first time.

“You wouldn’t dare.” – he hissed, slowly backing away from the terminal.

“Test me.” – the soldier replied in a similar manner, as he used his magic to cock the bolt of his rifle.

A second later, he squeezed the trigger. Almost immediately, pieces of glass were sent flying around the room as several flasks and test tubes were loudly shattered, their contents dispersing.

“What have you done?” – the scientist shouted with a tinge of panic and desperation in his voice as he rushed towards the remains of the experiment. 

However, as the scientist rushed towards the table, the residual adrenaline in the soldier’s body and the scientist’s sudden reaction prompted a response which has become somewhat of a reflex to the young soldier. A second bullet flew through the room embedding itself in the wall right behind the desperate pony’s head. A moment later, the labcoated pony collapsed, the leftover momentum planting him at the hooves of the stunned soldier.

As soon as he came to his senses, the soldier ran out of the room, hoping to distance himself from the events that had just transpired as far as possible. Behind him, the other pony continued lying still, his pristine white coat slowly soaked by the liquids leaking from the ruined experiment. The secrets behind it joined soon; a gooey mess pooling across the shiny tiled floor.

Who knows? Maybe this revolutionary research could have helped the world that was soon to come.
> 2...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let us in already!” – an older mare shouted at the guard, letting go of the foal she was hauling behind her to wave a piece of paper in the soldier’s face. – “We have our Stable passes right here.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m afraid that the Stable is at full capacity.” – the guard replied, seemingly undisturbed by the shouting mare. – “We are not letting anypony in.”

“What do you mean the Stable is full?” – the mare continued shouting, her face now inches away from the guard’s stoic gaze. – “We were given the passes, so that means they must have space…”

“Ma’am, I ask you to back off.” – the soldier ordered, his face not betraying any of the conflicting emotions he was feeling. – “The Stable is full and will not admit anypony else. That is final.”

“Please, at least take my foal.” – the mare pleaded as she suddenly switched tactics and presented her child to the guard along with a bag of bits. – “I can pay you, if that’s what it takes.”

“No.” – the guard resumed his monotone speech, straightening his back and adjusting his rifle. – “I have my orders and will not be bribed.”

Seeing this course of action fail, the mare decided to return back to demanding and shouting, however before she could say anything, a unicorn in a fine suit and a briefcase on his side pushed past her and addressed the guard. She only watched as he whispered something to the armoured pony and took out a piece of paper from his suit’s pocket. It was similar to the one the mare was waving in front of the guard just seconds ago, the only difference being that the newcomer’s slip looked more official and had a MAS logo watermarked on its back. As soon as the guard gave a glance at the document presented to him, he quickly nodded, moving aside so, what the mare presumed was a ministry pony, could pass inside. As he walked inside the official-looking unicorn didn’t even thank the guard, much less looked back at the crowd he was leaving behind. 

Seconds later, the guard resumed his post, once again adjusting his rifle.

The reaction to this was immediate.

“What the hell was that?” – a pony from somewhere in the crowd shouted, trying his best to suppress earlier tears.

“You said the Stable is full.” – another one joined him with a desperate wail.

“This is not fair.” – the third one chimed in, his face too filled with grief and hopelessness.

“We demand an explanation!” – a fourth one insisted.

The torrent of angry remarks continued as the crowd grew restless and began approaching the lone guard standing at the Stable’s entrance. The mare previously closest to him was the first to reach him, angrily shouting about how he could let that fancy pony in but not her child.

The slow and unrelenting movement of the crowd scared the entrance guard, and although he wouldn’t let his face show it, he took a cautionary step back, retreating into the Stable as the angry mob threatened to overwhelm him. In haste, he readied his rifle, slowly raising it at the advancing ponies. 

Soon, the guard was flanked by two other guards dressed in similar blue jumpsuits with black riot armours, each of them wielding a riot shotgun and pointing it in the same direction as the original guard’s rifle.

“Halt!” – one of the guards shouted with the help of a voice magnification spell as the mass of ponies approached the threshold. – “Stop right there or you will be fired upon.”

The crowd, however, didn’t stop, believing that their numbers were their greatest strength and that the guards wouldn’t dare to fire upon them. 

Both of these hypotheses were proven wrong just a second later as one of the soldiers unleashed a hail of rubber buckshot from his riot shotgun. The small balls whizzed through the air for but a short time before violently bouncing off several ponies in the front of the crowd. It seemed, however, that this action served only to spur the crowd into an even angrier frenzy as they picked up their packs, trying to squeeze through the round opening of the Stable. 

“Step back, dammit.” – the original guard shouted, firing off another shot from his weapon.

They pushed the crowd back a little bit, but ultimately did little good as the advance continued. Seeing no other alternative, the guards all shouted for somepony inside to seal the door. This only heightened the levels of desperation in the room as the ponies closest to the entrance blindly ran forward in an attempt to get in, the guards doing their best to keep them at bay.

Finally, after a few moments amongst the chaos, the great metal door slowly began closing, stealing the light from the chamber which the crowd was in. In a last, desperate attempt, a few ponies attempted to rush towards the rapidly closing gap for the final time, but were quickly fended off by the shotgun fire from the other side of the door. 

Once the door closed, the ponies continued banging on it, hoping that those inside would have mercy on them. 

They didn’t. 

They were as merciless as the balefire radiation that will soon silence them all.
> 1...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere high in the mountains surrounding the Maripony military base, a single pony slowly limped forwards, his hoof violently clutching his injured side. The blood oozing from the wound was barely visible on his sleek black stealth armour, but the pain more than made up for the lack of visual effects. 

He knew he didn’t have much time.

With great effort, he slowly bent down, taking the long sniper rifle from its holster on his back and setting it up on a small flat rock at the edge of a cliff overlooking the facility below. 

He was well aware that, ultimately, the task he was about to carry out was a fruitless one as the distant wailing meant that soon he wouldn’t have anypony to report his success to. However, he opted to complete it regardless. He was Her Majesty's agent and not completing an assigned mission would be an utmost indignity, regardless of the circumstances. Not to mention that then wasting his life fighting those guards would have been for nothing.

So, with a newfound determination and spirit, he gripped the trigger of the rifle in front of him and carefully put his eye on one side of the scope. He blinked hard a few times, trying his best to drive away the red veil consuming his vision so that he could properly see his mark among the panicked ponies running around in the valley below. 

He recognized the pony as soon as he saw him. 

It really wasn’t that hard as, unlike most others, this pony kept a dignified stance and slowly strolled amongst the chaos, flanked by his loyal griffin bodyguard. What really gave him away, however, was his face which was ingrained in the operative’s memory from all the time spent reading dossiers and reports the Office had on him. From what he gathered, the pony was once an ambitious researcher who turned his back on Equestria, collaborating with the Zebra Empire to further his personal goals. His network of influence was substantial and helped him escape the agent’s grasp quite a few times. The two of them have been playing this cat and mouse game for some time, but now he had the chance to finally finish it once and for all. And so, as soon as he saw an opening, he breathed out the air he was holding back. 

As the air exited from his lungs, so did a lone bullet from the front of the gun’s barrel. It whizzed through the air and moments later, a single pony suddenly collapsed in the valley, the panicking ponies too busy with saving their own lives to notice his exiting from his eyes.

“It is done.” – the black-clad pony announced to the wind as he finally slumped down, rolling to the side and fixating his eyes on the horizon. – “The mission is complete.”

After a few moments of staying still and basking in the feeling of self-pride for at last completing the mission he was pursuing for many months, the pony moved again, slowly reaching for something in his saddlebag. He weakly rummaged around it a few more moments before finally feeling the smooth cold surface of the object he was looking for. 

Out of his saddle bag came a single bottle, tightly sealed with a cap and filled to the brim with a clear brown liquid. At the sight of it, the pony allowed himself to think back to the time he got it, right after completing his first mission. As he reported back to the headquarters, the commander, his mentor,  presented him with it, saying it was to be his retirement gift.

“Keep thinking of its sweet taste every time you find yourself in a tough spot, and you will surely live to see another day. And another. And another. Until you finally retire and indulge in its delightful embrace.” – the commander said to him as the then-young operative eyed the crystal brown liquid. 

At the time, he considered the words of the commander to be nothing but ramblings of a tired old colt, but over time, as his job tore apart his family and kept his friends away, he came to realise the need of having something to live for. Even if it is something small and seemingly pointless as a bottle of Appaloosa’s finest.

Banishing the memory, he struggled a bit to unscrew the cap. By now, his adrenaline had subsided and a wave of weakness washed over him. It took a few tries, but finally, after some time spent fidgeting with the cap, the obstacle finally budged, opening the bottle to the world. A powerful aroma hit the pony’s nostrils and he inhaled deeply, the fumes already taking hold of his debilitated state. For a moment, he put the bottle aside and used his other hoof to unclasp a small locket tucked away under his armour. As he opened it, he looked upon the picture of a beautiful smiling mare posing in front of one of Canterlot's many spires as two foals ran around her. 

It was his family. 

Not wanting for the locket to lay in the dirt, he hung the small memorabilia on the stock of his rifle, the eyes of his family in level of his. He took a moment to admire the scene in front of him, but didn't allow himself to dwell on it for too long. Time was a luxury right now and there was not point in dying with a tear in his eye.

So, as he separated his eyes from the ones in the photograph, he once again looked up towards the horizon. Through the clouds, he made out an elongated shape which was rapidly approaching the valley below. Without any further ado, he grasped the bottle in front of him, raising it towards the sky and the descending balefire missile. In his mind he toasted to himself, to his family, to his friends and colleagues, to the Ministries and the Ministry Mares, to the Princesses, and finally, to Equestria itself. Slowly, he opened his mouth, taking a sip and letting his throat fill with the brown liquid. 

It really was every bit as delightful as the old man said it would be.

A moment later, a bright green flash consumed the valley below, taking along everypony in it.

Soon, many others like it shattered the land. They consumed the lone operative, his family, his friends and colleagues, the Ministries and the Ministry Mares, the Princesses, and finally, Equestria itself.

And in their wake a new world would arise. A harsh world. An unforgiving world. A world seemingly abandoned by love and friendship.

A world know to its inhabitants simply as... 

The Wasteland