Chapter 1: Stallion in Black

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The stallion awoke to a petty little chamber, small enough to call it a coffin. He was surrounded by cold, metallic walls and could easily see some frost and ice forming all over them. The stallion started to panic and banged his hoofs violently on the walls surrounding him until an electronic voice from seemingly nowhere stopped him. The narrow walls in the chamber echoed the voice all around him, making it impossible to tell where it could be coming from.

“Heart rate: 80 beats per minute. Status: Stressed,” The voice said before going quiet.

As soon as the voice stopped, panic overcame the stallion once again and he started to pound on the wall in front of him, “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” he shouted loudly.

The stallion kept attacking the wall in front of him with no avail until the same electronic voice came on again, “Defrost: Complete. Unlocking chamber doors...”

With a cloud of cold air, and the sound of depressurization, the stallion fell out of the chamber; together with the part of the chamber wall he was hitting. Apparently, it was the door on which he had been screaming at this whole time.

The room around him was very dim. The only source of light came from the freezing chamber from which he had just fallen out of. There was a light inside, just at the top of chamber. It lit up the room enough to where he could see picture frames on the walls and a display cases alongside the walls in both directions.

The stallion lied on the ground, freezing to death. He rolled up in a small ball and tried to cover himself with his stubby tail. He lied there for a while and shivered; his fur had a thin coat of frost across his spine and hind legs. He lied on the ground; it was no warmer than the chamber he was locked inside, but the icy temperature left the stallion stationary and only able to shiver. He didn’t know how long he stayed on the floor, but it was long enough, as the feeling of warmth was now starting to seep in.

After the stallion started to feel warm enough to move and the ice on his fur had melted off - making him uncomfortably wet - he got up and decided to take a look at the room which he had just landed in. He stumbled to get his balance, trembling now from his damp and cold fur; he finally established his up and down and was able to walk. The stallion carefully trotted over to one of the display cases. It was too dark and he could barely see the display case itself, let alone what’s inside it. He took another step to the side, attempting to get a view of it, when a light below the case flickered on. He took a step back, being startled by the sudden bloom of light hitting his eyes. The stallion squinted and looked back at the case.

Inside the case, he could see there was a long rifle resting on a maroon coloured velvet pad. The body was made of a dark stained wood, the wood chipped and scathed in splinters. A gray metal magazine was alongside the trigger on the bottom, rusted from time. The rifle also featured a scope on the rail with something engraved near the rim of the sight. “10×40 Telescopic...” The rest of the words were on the other side of the scope that was lying against the pad. The stallion eyed down the barrel, it was polished for the display, but still oxidized. There were five bullets stacked together underneath, showing off the calibre of the rifle.

He looked to his right, spotting another case. He shimmied himself over to that one and peeked inside. Just as the last one, upon reaching the display case the lights flashed on - this time, with more intensity. The lights buzzed and whined struggling to keep themselves illuminated. This display case had a random assortment of small items within it. There was one very small yellow case that had about four or five syringes inside organized together in a row. Next to it, three small cardboard packages labeled in order, ‘Breakfast’, ‘Supper’, and ‘Dinner’. The side dishes for these entrees included a pitiful can of vegetable mix, a single apple bar, spices, and a small pack of cigarettes to kill the taste. Just adjacent to the rations was an old, beat up knife. The hilt of the blade was chipped and the knife seemed slightly dull - like it had been through a great ordeal. The stallion set his hoof on the glass cover and came in closer for a better look at the yellow package near the rations. He looked at the cover and saw that it read, “Personal First Aid Kit,” underneath a symbol of three pink butterflies grouped together in a triad.

The stallion backed away from the display cases and, looking left and right, decided to check back at the dark room. He trotted back, going passed the icy chamber once more - his eyes fixed on the cold, white clouds the plumed from the walls of the capsule. He took only a few steps when he almost ran into a big glass box, the only thing which stopped him was the automatic lights turning on inside the box. The lights grabbed his attention almost immediately and he was able to stop himself from running face-first into the container. The stallion looked inside the glass bin and saw an armour suit within.

The armor itself mostly consisted of tan coloured plates that went over the chest. Some of the plates were scratched, perhaps from the many fights its owner had been in. It also featured a long belt that was wrapped around the armour three times over and equipped with magazine pouches. Faded khakis which had some stitches on them and a patch on the right knee were used for the pants. The armor was then covered over by a black duster. As the stallion walked closer, he could read words on the plate that would cover the neck, “Cpl. Graphite, B POS, EAMC.”

The name sounded familiar to him, there was something on the tip of his mind racked his brain and it had something to do with that name on the neck guard - but he had never seen the armor before. The stallion slowly approached the glass box, until he noticed some pony on the glass surface.

It was a dark gray unicorn stallion with a short silver mane. He had big, light blue eyes that slightly shimmered in the flooding lights. They both stood there, looking at each other for a while. When the stallion blinked or moved his hoof - the gray stallion did so too. He walked around the glass box, but the stallion kept following him. The obvious finally caught up to him, it was himself in the reflection of the glass box.

His own image looked strange to him, it was like seeing some pony new. The stallion spent some time looking at himself in the reflection. He saw a horn on the top of his head, confused as to what that could be for. He stood tall, taking a long look; admiring himself. He didn’t seem a day over twenty, but he was still unsure as to just who he was.

The gray stallion looked up and down his reflection, when he noticed there was a frame which featured a newspaper just behind him, but it was too dark for him to make anything out. He turned around and approached the frame on the wall and once again, the automatic lights turned on again - he had gotten use to it now. It was an old issue of a newspaper called the, “Buckago Tribune.” Another thought in his head, triggered after reading “Buckago.” He wondered what all these thoughts were that he could never reach, so he read the paper hoping that it would provide some answers.

The article was entitled with bold black letters, “SOLE SURVIVOR OF THE HILL 187,” and featured a large picture of a stallion sitting in a trench with his arms resting on his knees and a rifle by his side; the stallion had a cigarette lit. He looked down at his hooves like he had been through some tough times and regret in his heart. Something happened on that hill that was a burden on his shoulders. On closer examination, the armour and the rifle were the same which were on the display in the room where the stallion was. It was hard to tell who the mysterious stallion was as the picture featured his face down and hard to see.

The stallion stared into the picture until his brain finally made the connection. The same black coat, blue eyes, and silver coloured mane - it was him. He felt a sharp, piercing pain in his head, almost like he had just eaten a bucket of ice cream - all in one bite. The stallion sat down on the floor, closed his eyes, and hugged his head. He made some quiet moans as the headache surged rapidly on one point in his head.

The stallion started to finally got part of his memory back; he remembered who he was and what he was doing in that room, but just a small fraction of the reason. He was Corporal Graphite. The armour, rifle, and all the objects which were all put up for display were his. The stallion asked himself why he was apart of all of this - this exhibit about some pony in particular.

He walked back near the chamber, about that time he looked out to where the light shone. It never came across Graphite’s mind that there had to be more to this place than this quaint corner in some sort of room. He tried to look on, but the lights weren’t strong enough to illuminate the rest of the area ahead. He thought for a bit, another memory coming to him. Like an ‘ah-ha!’ moment, he realized what that horn on his head was for - magic. He wanted light, and willed for it, so a spark came form his horn and turned into a beam of light that illuminated the area just around him. He stepped out of his lonesome corner and into the dark area ahead. There was a velvet rope in front of him, like he was a museum set piece. He stepped over it, but knocked it over with his knee. The rope dragged down the poles as it fell, and the whole thing hit the floor with a loud clang. The bang echoed across the walls of the room and rebounded loudly back to Graphite. He flinched at the noise, startled by the loudness. The sound was loud enough to wake up the dead - and the echo didn’t help with that.

He walked timidly until he reached the middle of the dark place, standing over a marble design of a six pointed golden painted star. His light wasn’t strong enough to lighten up the entire room, but he notice the points of the star reflected under that light and lead down to another corner like the one Graphite appeared in. He followed the point down to its end until he found another corner - and another chamber. He was eerily surprised unsure what or who he might find inside this one.

He walked closer to the small steel case, seeing the true size was no bigger than a coffin. There was a clear glass plate over the pod’s apparent entrance, though the glass was faded in a white frost. There were no elaborate designs to the case itself, just a narrow box built with flat steel panels.

He stepped up to the chamber and put his hoof on the glass door. He quickly noticed the chamber was icy to the touch, so he instantly retracted his arm from the pod; but noticed that his hoof had wiped of some fog from the front. Graphite saw this and was a bit scared to wipe off the rest of the fog and peer inside, but curiosity got the better of him. He extended his hoof towards the chamber, and wiped the fog away from the front; reaching back now and again to stop the burning of the frost. He had wiped off most of what he could reach without freezing the rest of his hoof; he could now see what was in the chamber, and he didn’t enjoy it.

There was a frozen corpse refrigerated inside the metallic chamber. It was a white mare with a few threads of light blue hair left on her head. Her skin had turned so thin and pale that Graphite could see every line of her bones and every dried up vein under her skin.

Graphite wasn’t sure how to react; he felt he should disgusted, shocked, saddened, or perhaps all three. He looked around the chamber and saw some display cases just like back at the other corner. He trotted closer, peeking inside the one to the right first.

Inside was damaged medical equipment; a tattered first aid kit, some loose bandages, and empty bottles of medicinal spirits. He worked his way back to the opposite display case, taking another quick look at the seemingly lifeless body inside the chamber. His eyes followed the deep blue veins up to the head where they could be seen coursing up to the brain; his eyes followed up to the top of the chamber, and then to a sign just above it reading, “COMPASSION.” He looked back down, noticing the next case was shattered, leaving all the stuff inside torn and covered in shards of glass. He walked over, minding the broken glass, and peered inside the case. There was another cut-out newspaper article; this one must be on the mare inside the chamber.

This particular article was focused on a mare by the name of Dr. Iatros. It talked of her saved a clan Zebra supporters even after killing two policeponies, and injuring dozens more. Graphite was amazed at such a display of compassion, he told himself he’d never be able to show the same amount of care to those - he assumed - evil ponies. He wanted to read on about this mare, but the shards of glass tore up the rest of the newspaper. Graphite stepped back to the middle of the room, looking back at the chamber one last time as the frost began to fog up the door again.

He stood once more in the middle of the six pointed star. The last point led him somewhere useful, so he decided to try the same tactic, and went down the next point on the star. Sure enough, the lines converged and met to direct Graphite to another corner with yet another chamber. This chamber wasn’t like the other two, this one was dark on the inside. It still retained the same design, but the light didn’t seem to be working. He walked up, guessing there might be anything inside if there were no lights, or no cold breeze coming from within. Graphite walked up, his beam of light illuminating something from inside the chamber. The shape became clearer and clearer as he grew closer and closer. To his despair, he saw that the shape was of another pony.

It’s fur had fallen off, it’s eyes were cold and empty, and it had a black slime growing about its head and mouth. The colour of its skin was a disgusting green; there wasn’t a doubt in Graphite’s mind that this pony had been dead for a while. His corpse was deteriorating, but was frozen where he were just like the mare - his hooves were pressed against the door. His fate reminded Graphite of himself, trapped inside his coffin alive, only able to bang and scream at the walls until you slowly die off. This was hard on Graphite - disturbing him at the most part. He wanted to deter from these thoughts, so he set after the display cases - two on either side just as before. He started with the one on the right. Stepping over the velvet rope, he smelled the rotting flesh from the corpse inside the chamber. It was a strong and foul odor that didn’t subside; it disturbed Graphite all the more. This display case had a few varying types of test tubes and beakers and two petri dishes with some dark substance growing on them. The bacteria on the dishes must have been left under the bright display lights enough to keep it from dying - the material had grown out of the petri dish, and was growing around and up the beakers. The smell wasn’t any better than the rotting corpse.

The smell of the dead pony was starting to get to Graphite, so hurried as fast as he could to see the next display case. He took a quick look inside; rather than a newspaper, he found there was a small, leather bound pocket journal alongside a tiny vile of some purple-ish substance encased in a larger, chromatic tube. Graphite was ready to leave the stench of the deteriorating body, so he just read the title of the journal quickly before he lurched back away from the smell. The journal was entitled “Field Notes - Chem. Station #28.” He glanced just long enough to remember the first few words; “I - Doctor Graupel - have discovered the means of cryopreserveration b...” The rest were back in the cloud of disgusts in odor; of which he stormed away from. Graphite trotted back along the point of the star, he remembered another thing, which almost slipped his mind. He looked back at the corner at the sign above the chamber which was labeled, “KNOWLEDGE.”

Back at the middle of the room, still three more points to follow. There couldn’t be much differences with the other thee corners, but Graphite had to know more about who he is or why he’s here. The next point on the star was a bit scratched, a few scuff marks in the marble were noticeable under Graphite’s hooves. This point of the star led him to, “LOVE.”

An interesting label, Graphite couldn’t figure out what they all meant though. He came up to the corner, and it didn’t take him long to notice the next pony. This one was a mare, just as deteriorated as the last one, but this one was laying on the ground on top of the chamber door. The ice in the chamber had all melted away and there was no frost on the door. The mare had what seemed to be freezer burns on her back, but it was hard to tell when the skin is so thin and rotted. He could just see her cutie mark faded on her skin; it was of two doves, flying together just as two love birds. He stepped around the fragile body, paying his respects as best he could. He shimmied around to the display case, but a panel on the chamber caught his eye. It was a very dim terminal on the side of the chamber; Graphite was amazed it still worked.

There was a warning pop-up on the screen stating, “Subject: Turtledove, Heart rate: 0 bpm, Status: Deceased.” Underneath was a single entry, labeled “Message to test participants.” Graphite decided to check the message, after all - he was apparently participant too.

“Dear test participant,

If you are reading this, it means that the first phase of the test has been successful. You have been awoken from your cyrogenic slumber because your skills are required to save Equestria, and maybe the whole pony kind. After reading this message, I urge you to gather your equipment from the display cases and meet me, Doctor Graupel, at the main hall. There, we shall discuss the details and you will receive your further plan of action.

First, I must warn you of the unpleasant side effects of decades of cyrogenic sleep. Some of these side effects may include, but are not limited to:

* Severe amnesia
* Loss of appetite- Doctor Graupel, Canterlot Cyrogenic Spell Research Institute”

It was all starting to make sense now. Sharp, piercing headache; amnesia; all of it was just part of some test he was made to carry out. The others must share the same fate, seeing as they’re all in, what Graphite guessed to be, the cryogenic chamber. He was still confused, why were these ponies the ones chosen for this test. He reread the letter again, “You have been awoken from your cyrogenic slumber because your skills are required to save Equestria, and maybe the whole pony kind.” This ‘test’ had something to do with the skills these ponies had. He wondered what skills or abilities the ponies had, when the connection finally came to mind. The signs at the top of each chamber, they must represent the talents each of the ponies held. Graphite had that same, “ah-ha!” feeling again.

The piercing pain hit again suddenly. This one came up quickly, knocking Graphite to his knees. He grasped his head, groaning as the pain stabbed and stabbed at his brain. He forced himself to his hooves, using the side of the chamber and display case to help him up. He leaned against the wall, his hooves still planted on his head. The memory of a ‘test’ came to Graphite’s memory; he finally found out why he was here.

A few months Graphite had returned from the front lines he and five other ponies were picked because of their skills and were inducted into this analysis of cryogenic preservation. The four ponies - Valour, Compassion, Kindness, Knowledge, and Love - were to be frozen in time until the world were in danger of losing it’s inviolability. If he was awake right now, the world must be in ruins - or will be soon.

After the sudden headache had passed, he decided to find a way outside of the dark place in which he was in. He headed back to the midpoint of the star, the only meaningful landmark to which Graphite could find his way around the room. The six pointed star had it’s points directing to each of the six ponies of, so the exit must be anywhere in between the points. He had just came back from the top most point of the star, so the exit must be directly away from it. With that educated guess, Graphite continued forward, his light shining on just a few feet in front of him.

He was afraid of what awaited him in the darkness. He couldn’t remember how big this building was; even out to the farthest reaches of his light, he still couldn’t see a wall or any object around him. He bravely continued to march into the unknown until the light of his horn hit a large double-door. He picked up his pace, reaching for the doorknobs - finding it to be jammed.

“Fuck- come on...!” He said under his breath angrily.

He jimmied the door, pulling and tugging on the knobs. He pushed and pulled, until one of the knobs popped off in his hoof. He tossed it on the ground behind him; Graphite resorted to simply bashing down the door. He took a step back, leaped at the door with his shoulder ahead of him, and collided with the door - the doors starting to bend. He took another few steps back and ran at the door full speed. His body hit the door like a wrecking ball and the two doors flew off the hinges, splintering off the frames. He fell on top of the doors, his side sore from the collision.

He got up slowly, growling and telling himself, “Not the best idea...”

Graphite brushed himself off, pulling out a few splinters stuck in his arm. He looked to his left and right, finding himself in a long hallway. He checked his surroundings again, spotting a little ray of light poking through a hole in the wall at his left. He trotted over to it, a faint blue light, like moonlight, shone through a hole that resided near the top of the hallway. He took a closer look, and noticed there were blinds across the wall - maybe it was a window. Graphite moved down to the end of the hallway, hugging the wall so he doesn’t lose track of where he has been. He got to the end of the black hallway, there were two stone columns standing on both sides of the doorway that was at the end. He looked up and down the columns, admiring the craftsmanship, when he saw a lever attached to one of them.

Graphite examined the the lever; it was a dainty lever made of a gold-ish metal with a brown leather grip on the end. There was a plaque atop it engraved, “Blinds.” The chambers back in the other room didn’t seem to have any power, so he was pessimistic to whether they would work or not. He grabbed the lever with his telekinesis and pulled it down. A loud bang from under the walls rang out against around the hallway and the sounds of gears grinding came from the ends of the hallway. The shutters covering the wall slowly spun open, revealing a long, glass window spanning the full distance of the wall - but it was what was outside the window that was shocking.

The blinds completed their cycle, unveiling a skyline of a destroyed city. There were large skyscrapers engulfed in an ocean of fog, only the tallest of the structures could make it out of the field of mist. The tops of the buildings were beaten in, even roofs missing from a few skyscrapers out in the city. There was an orange strip of glowing light that just poked its way through the thick clouds, illuminating just enough to see outside. The freeways collapsed on each other, the wagons piled up by the dozens. He looked on over the city, every building had it’s windows blown out; shards of glass must be littered across every square inch of the roads and sidewalks. The window was to thick to let sound pass through, but Graphite could here the silence of the abandoned city - it filled the air and deafened the echoes.

Graphite stood there, pressed against the window. As he looked outside, he couldn’t believe that the rulers of Equestria would have allowed for the war which he fought in the trenches to grow into a full scale balefire war. Graphite wasn’t sad or angry - he just stood there in shock and disbelief that all of the world which he knew was destroyed forever. He didn’t know what to believe, he didn’t know enough to believe in much right now.

He was reminded of why he was awake, something inside him was telling him that he had to go out there - but he didn’t know why. It was his duty as the element of valour to protect Equestria, but that meant going out into the fiery hell outside the security of the building. He had one option to pick from; there was know where else to go, nothing else to do, no pony to see, and no way of staying here. With a sigh, he agreed to take himself back to the dark room from where he started and grab some essentials.

Graphite trotted back down the ever-expanding hallway, crossing the same marble patterns that made up the floor beneath him, and crossing over the double doors he had knocked down. He returned to the room, same as he left it - empty. He followed the star, once again, to the end of the room. He found his chamber, the cold door still emitting an icy fog. He went for the only things that seemed to belong to him; the black suit of armour, the old rifle, the cans of rations, and the newspaper cutout of him. The cutout was taken out due to a bit of reaction, it was the only thing that told Graphite who Graphite was.

He started with the armour that was encased in the glass box. The frame of the box seemed to be made of a hard steel, and upon closer inspection, locked with a platinum padlock. The didn’t seem to be anyway to unlock or break the lock, so the only sensible solution was to bust straight through the glass. He brought up his hoof and swung it at the glass, the glass stopping the impact instantly. The sound of the glass vibrating between the frames was heard behind the moans of pain from Graphite, who was grasping his hoof near his stomach.

He stared at the glass, unscathed from the punch, “Damn that’s hard...” he seared. Maybe the gun in other case might help, but Graphite had a score to settle with this defiant glass case. A light blue aura formed in the dark reaches of the hallway. A shimmer of light surrounded the door Graphite destroyed, he grabbed and pulled the entire lock and knob from it with his levitation spell - carrying it to his corner. The lock flew out of his grip, smacking dead on the glass case. The glass cracked, sending lines of abstract breaks all over the panel protecting the armour. Graphite moved the knob to the side, standing near the display case again. He took his other hoof, sending in another jab at the glass. The glass shattered to pieces behind his hoof. He batted the rest of the shards away from the frame and reached for his suit.

He dragged out the mannequin from the box to avoid cutting himself on the shredded glass. He then took off the black duster and threw it down on the floor, shaking of the shards of glass. It had collected a thin layer of dust while standing in the display case since a plume of dust flew off of it as it folded up on the floor. He proceeded to put on the tan pants and the steel breastplate. It was easy and quick to do since he used his magic to dress himself.

The armour and the pants seemed to be a bit loose even with the belts around his waist. Probably after all of the time being frozen, he had lost some weight. He grabbed the duster from the floor, but felt something hard inside on of the pockets. He reached inside with his magic, pulling out a box-shaped device and letting the duster fall to the floor again. It was a plain design; one screen taking up the right side of the device, and a few knobs and switches making up the rest. There were three buttons on the left, one over the other, labeled with, ‘Condition, Notes, and Data’. Above the buttons were two knobs and a plate for the logo to go; ‘Pip-Buck M’ written out in stylized letters beside it. After looking over the device, he tried the knobs - twiddling it around trying to get the device on. Graphite tapped the screen, pressed all the buttons, and shook the box a little. He grumbled, giving up on the thing, when a small, black earpiece fell out the side of the Pip-Buck. He caught it just before it hit the floor. It had no wires, just a clip around it so it could fit over the ear. Graphite put the ear-bud in and tried the device again, seeing it scramble itself on.

On the screen appeared the lines of a map grid, but only with one marker named “Heroes Exhibition”. That probably was the name of the exhibit where he and the other frozen ponies were placed. Graphite then saw a list of three tabs on the bottom of the screen. According to them, he was currently on the maps section. By pressing the tab which was labeled “Notes” he switched to an empty screen. Probably he had never used this Pip-Buck or the data was cleared off from it. Judging by the fact that the screen and the body were scratched the second guess seemed more likely.

Graphite picked up his black duster up from the floor and put it over himself. He had already grabbed the buckle when he noticed that something was on the inside of his other pocket. He opened the right side of the duster and noticed another pocket on the inside. Inside the pocket was a worn leather wallet with a faded yellow zipper teeth around the edge.

He took out the brown wallet from his pocket and opened it up. Inside there were a few golden bits and a photography of Graphite in a light blue suit with a cream coloured button-up and a matching blue plaid tie; he was standing near an older couple. It was an old earth pony mare with a champagne coloured mane and a similar tan coat. The stallion was very similar to Graphite, but certainly showed his age, just like the mare next to him. He also had a dark coat and a black, short cut mane.

He couldn’t think about this now, he had to get going. He checked his stuff, he probably wasn’t going to be able to carry everything in his pockets - he needed a bag. He looked around the chamber, spotting a saddlebag at the back of the broken case. He stepped in front of the case, reaching to the back as best he could without cutting himself on the sharp edges of glass. He couldn’t get it, so he used his levitation spell to reach the bag and strapped it around himself.

Graphite was just about ready to go, when he remembered the other display case. He shuffled over to the other one. There, he spotted the rifle he spotted earlier. He tried the case, to his surprise, it was unlocked. He lifted the top of the case, looking on at the rifle. He grabbed the rifle and held it in his hooves. He tilted it around, staring at the sheen and the polished wood that made up the gun. He pulled out the magazine and noticed it was empty. The five rounds that were displayed below in the case were still there - that’s all he seemed to have left to use. Graphite then took the rounds and loaded them into the magazine leaving the magazine only a quarter full.

The rations were also in the case. He didn’t know their expiration date as there was none indicated on the packages so he just assumed that they were still edible. He stuffed them loosely in the bag and closed the flap on the bag. Graphite took the last thing he needed - that old knife sitting in the corner of the display case. He was just about to put it in his bag, but then he thought about that again. The knife would cut the bag open with it shaking around as he walked; he checked his suit, and found a sheath on his shoulder where he could place the knife safely. Finally, Graphite was ready to go.

He walked back to the main hall and the exit doors. The sun was rising, making the cloudy skies dazzle in various tones of orange. The skyline had turned into a dull silhouette of the city, the remains of them poking against the sky. The sun cut through the smoke, shining bright through the windows and illuminating the hallway for him. Graphite turned his head, there were great works of art hung on the walls he never noticed back in the blinding darkness. They gave him something to admire, just before reaching the door that stood at the end of the hallway. He stood between the two pillars that shafted up to the ceiling; he took a deep breath, and pushed the doors open.

Chapter 2: Home of the Blues

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Graphite stepped out from the exhibition hall. He held his breath, not knowing what to expect from the new world outside. As the doors swung open, he knew there wasn’t going to be a crowd of ponies to welcome him to the world; not a single pony would be outside to greet him or pass him even a ‘good day.’ No sounds of wagon wheels grinding against the pavement, no patterns of random chatter from commuters, nothing but the chill of the air and the empty streets to introduce him into his new home. He made it out with all his thoughts trailing behind him, his legs finding the hard surface of the sidewalk. He was now in new territory.

When everything seemed okay -- or as much as it can be okay for a post-apocalyptic wasteland -- Graphite breathed out a sigh of relief. The air didn’t seem any different, but it actually felt warmer outside than it did in the Hero Exhibition. After adjusting to the city winds, he looked about the surroundings to figure out his next move.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, but it still was too dark to see anything clearly. In front of him, he could barely make out a street which intersected at the corner of the street where he was standing now. The rest of the view behind the street was obscured by a burnt down neighborhood and dead trees which were charred down to what resembled used matchsticks.

Graphite noticed the remains of a cart-stop in the near distance by one of the burnt down houses. It was a small steel booth with a sign outside, though the booth now resembled more of a shack with three walls. It’s walls had some rust on them, the booth had been scratched and even featured some holes in one of the walls.

He trotted to the cart-stop and looked at the blue square sign. “Roseland Heights,” the sign still read in blackened letters. Graphite sat down on the bench in the cart-stop and brought up his Pip-Buck, switching to the maps section. Though there were no location markers on the map accept the “Hero Exhibition” one, the highways were still clearly marked on his map as long white lines.

Now, he was stuck; he had no idea of where he should go first. Graphite sat on the bench and tried to remember any meaningful places near Buckago. A faded memory of a small two story brick house appeared in his mind. He remembered a section of a highway going over the houses and heading away from the city not too far from there - but wasn’t exact to which highway it was.

If he would follow the nearby highway, he might reach the outskirts of Buckago by the early afternoon; but he had to figure out which highway to take. He searched around the remains of the town, hoping something would help to jog his memory. To his left were a pile of bricks, reminding him that the house was made of a rustic red brick. He tried the road signs; the closest to him was “Valourous Blvd.” This just reminded him of his duty as the element of valour. He looked to his right, a section of building merged into another building across from it. He remembered how you would have to merge unto the highway from one of the streets. Graphite was racking his brain, trying to remember this location was unnerving. He clenched his head, looking left and right for some answers. The cart-stop sign caught his eye again; he remembered the road you have to get on to reach the highway - “Applejack Dr.”

Without further doubts - and no other options - Graphite set course for the only place which still meant something to him, or at least he thought so. He wasn’t sure where he was going or why, but he was moving and that was all that mattered now.

He continued down the road which lead to Landing Drive. On his way, he kept a watchful eye on his surroundings. He couldn’t see any signs of life anywhere, everything was cold and abandoned. There were no voices, just the sound of wind blowing through the cracks in ruins of houses. All the roads were dull and littered with abandoned carts and knick-knacks dropped by rushed ponies wanting to get off the road in a hurry. The forgotten doodads and whatchamacallits ranged from small stuffed animals to dropped wallets and to books, files, and journals. All of these things, everything - even the buildings and walls - were covered in a fine layer of ash and soot.

Graphite stopped when he reached Landings Drive. He looked down the road, noticing as it merged into the highway. He still wasn’t sure how far along he had to travel down the highway to get where he was going, so he was mentally preparing himself. A few deep breaths, shaking out his legs, and cracking his neck.

“All right... here we go...”

He started off the road and down the long highway. The highway was a straight, wide, six cart lane stretch of asphalt that continued on far into the horizon. The highway wasn’t left out of the free blanket of ash that must have came from the miles of burnt buildings around it. With every step Graphite took, a small cloud of dust would float away from the newly made hoof print on the ground. He looked up at the sky, trying to get his mind off the destruction around him. The sun was just over head, splitting the clouds just as it should. The rays reflected and shimmered against the particles of dust that floated around in the air.

Graphite looked back down, he was still traveling that stretch of road - that empty stretch of road. He imagined he could close his eyes and walk straight for a day and not hit a single thing. He reached a bridging portion of the highway and stopped to look over the edge. The water had evaporated into less than half of its original amount and had become diluted and foggy. Graphite remembered something; he forgot water. He forgot to remember the water. Graphite had to get of the highway soon before he became too dehydrated.

He felt he needed to hurry, but that would just make him dehydrate faster. If he traveled to slow, he would never get off this highway. It was a vicious cycle that played around in Graphite’s head. But even after all his worries and doubts, the small bit of food, and lack of water; Graphite just kept on walking. He walked on and on; wondering, pondering, guessing, imagining. He had nothing else he could do - there wasn’t another pony in sight for miles all around. Not a trace besides the few scattered commodities that lay on the ash covered ground. Not one pony to talk to. One question comes to mind - “Am I the last one?” This seemed to be true, Graphite was the only pony walking on this never ending highway. For that matter - there seemed to be no life left at all. He started to think about how nice to would be to see someone else alive. Just to see even a butterfly flying through the air, or any signs of life in this diminishing place.

A very loud screeching noise blasted from his earpiece. Graphite jumped, pulling the earpiece right out of his ear. He held his ear as it rang from the loud sting; he looked down at his Pip-Buck, seeing a message pop-up on it the screen. It read, “Radio Signal Detected - 108.3 FM.”

His ear was twitching a bit, luckily he hadn’t gone deaf in one ear from that loud noise. He placed the ear-bud in his other ear, and adjusted the volume on the device. A song was playing, Graphite recognized the singer - it was Blue Eyes, a singer who’s voice he distinguish instantly. Coincidentally, the stallion sang about Buckago and it was just where Graphite was heading now. The music was a bit uplifting for Graphite, it helped eliminate the dead silence of the depressing city that used to be Buckago.

The music also changed his step from a sluggish march to a cheerful trot; he even started to hum along with the song, bobbing back and forth with the beat of the music. Graphite was still a bit hard pressed about the journey, but the music carried him well off until he reached the next exit - and a problem.

The highway started to stretch out into an overpass above the below freeway, but both the overpass and underlying freeway collapsed into a large heap of ruble and asphalt. The other end of the highway was almost a few miles away, and the exit to the house was the next one over. The sun just passed it’s highest point and was beating down in Graphite’s eyes. He placed his hooves over his eyes and looked on over at the opposite end of the highway. There was a tilted over sign too far away too read, but he could see another exit just nearby. This is where he needed to go, the only trouble was getting there. Graphite looked at his options -- he had one. Take this exit down and follow along to wherever it may lead. The song on the radio was starting to play off, he lost his cheery feeling in that moment.

“Hopefully, there’s water...” Graphite sighed.

He took a step, and continued down the exit ramp and unto the adjacent road. Graphite followed it as it banded through rows of dead trees and brush, the road cracked and faded from lack of attention. The guard rails were rusted, some parts of it almost pulled out of the ground. There was a road sign to the right, a bit dented and scratched, but still legible. The sign informed of two restaurants and a rest area in the next neighborhood known as Carnen. He felt just a slightly optimistic about this place, he felt he needed a positive attitude to get him through this negative world.

The road made a sharp right turned, and headed straight into the neighborhood. A quaint little wooden sign stood in front of the neighborhood simply reading, “Carnen - the quietest little neighborhood in Buckago”.

Graphite smirked, the town was definitely going to be quiet if he was the only pony there. Not a very positive thought, but it kept him going. He moved into the town, and wasn’t surprised to see that it was desolate. Graphite stood in the middle of an intersection that crossed in four directions. Just ahead of him he could see the rest of the neighborhood. The buildings were a simple, aged brick houses; none of them no bigger than two stories. The buildings were so simple, they were sturdy - most of them almost untouched by whatever had destroyed the other sections of city.

The building that caught his attention first was a cafe with the big, wide open windows that were clear as the town was empty. Graphite could see the counter, along with some booths and tables along the wall. He couldn’t tell from here, but they seemed to be in good shape. Graphite took a left at the intersection and continued down the row of houses. They all were still standing; only but a few had some chunks of wall ripped off or had a broken window. He walked down the middle of the street until one of the houses grabbed his attention.

A house next to a general store had it’s door blown open and it looked as if it was inviting Graphite inside. There didn’t seem to be anything special about the building; it was just another brown, two story, brick building with its windows blown out. He thought for a moment, staring at the house. The town should have it’s plumbing still operational, so the sinks should still have running water - hopefully clean enough for Graphite to drink.

Graphite went through the arch which used to hold the blown out doors. He got inside, noticing that the house looked like someone had just left it yesterday. The furniture had barely any dust on it, and it was all in place around the room - the sofa faced the fireplace, the table stood against the wall with a radio sitting on top of it, and the lamps were all in good condition. The kitchen was behind the staircase, comprised of just a small walkway underneath the stairs. Graphite peeked his head into the kitchen. There were some plates and a dirty pot still in the sink, and a moldy piece of bread on the counter. Small black and white tiles checker-boarded across the floor, the cabinets were a matching white wood along with the dark granite counters. “Granite...” Graphite thought, something in his mind was telling him something about ‘Granite,’ but he wasn’t quite sure what. He moved over to the sink and turned the faucet - nothing came out, not even a drop. He tried the other handle, still nothing. Graphite sighed with despair before leaving the kitchen.

He trotted back and went up the staircase. The old wooden stairs supported his weight without a creak. The carpet on the floor had dust from the street all over it and had long lost its colours. The top floor was made up of only two rooms and a bathroom - one of the rooms was more of an office space than a room, but either way, was still smaller than the bottom floor. The office space was empty, just a few cardboard boxes and some loose tools. He checked the bathroom to see if its water might be working. Graphite pulled both handles, neither turning on the faucet. It would take years for a neighborhood’s water supply to dry up. How long has Graphite been frozen in that building? This was just one house, Graphite really wanted to keep his optimism; he decided he could try any of the other houses.

Graphite was about to leave the room, when a shout came from outside the house. It sounded like a little foal was calling for help. He rushed over to the window and saw a white colt with a brown mane running down the street. It looked like the little colt didn’t even have his cutie mark yet. The colt was running towards a blue mare with a mane of white and blue strands that was covered with a head wrap.

One thought got off Graphite’s mind - he wasn’t the last pony in Equestria. His eyes were fixed on those two ponies as he continued to observe the mare and the little colt from the apartment window. As he looked out, he saw the little colt took cover behind the blue mare as she pulled out a pistol from her satchel bag.

A group of three awfully dressed ponies - two stallions and rough looking mare - ran out from the nearby side street. All three of them were horribly bruised, their clothes looked like they had strapped the whole household goods store to them; the last stallion to the right seemed to have burn marks across wrapping around his head. They seemed to carry the rest of the store; the mare carried a lead pipe, the brown stallion had a knife, and the remaining one had a pair of brass ponyshoes. Their manes were made up in different ridiculous ways; yet, it was obvious that they were not there for fun.

“There he is, get the kid!” Shouted the mare, as they ran down the street with their clutter of armour clanking with every step. The trio stopped when they noticed the blue mare protecting the colt.

“Lookie who we have here,” Said brown stallion on the right, “Listen, I promise that we won’t rape you again before we kill you if ya’ hand over the kid nice and easy...”

“Take a long walk off a short pier, you motherfucker!” Shouted the blue mare and pointed her pistol at the brown stallion. She had an advantage over the trio because she was the only one with the gun - but she was outnumbered. They stood in a stalemate, none of them dared to make a move.

Unknown to the mare and the trio of bandits, Graphite was also stuck in a duel. He could help the mare and the kid - the awfully dressed ponies clearly meant no good. On the other hoof, Graphite lacked ammo. He had only quarter of a magazine and he wasn’t sure if he could still use a weapon. He also didn’t know what would mare do after he had taken out the bandits, she might just walk away as if nothing had happened, she could panic and shoot back, or not even think to thank him. What should he do, he couldn’t let the first ponies he’s seen just kill each other off - he had to do something now.

Acting now was going to take longer than he wanted, his ability to use a gun was questioned by himself. He had the knowledge that, at some point in his life, he had used a weapon before - but the memory of how to use it didn’t appear to him.

Then he remembered - none of the ponies down on the street saw him. Thus, he maintained the element of surprise; he could carefully take aim and take them out before any pony saw him. He took the opportunity to act.

Graphite sat down by the window and took his rifle off from his shoulder. He placed the rifle on the window sill, keeping the rifle from swaying. He adjusted the scope and took aim for the bandit mare’s chest as it was the only place which had left free of any armour.

He placed the crosshairs in the scope over her and started to take deep, long breaths. After a hundred years of sleep, he was about to do his job again - killing ponies to protect ponies.

The loud sound of a .308 round shot rang out through the street. The bullet tore through the dirty mare’s chest, spraying out bits of lung from the exit wound. The mare fell down on the cracked asphalt. The stallions didn’t even get to blink when another loud shot rang out and the brown stallion hit the dirt.

The blue mare didn’t seem to pay attention to the shots, as if she knew that the one who made them were on her side. She took her aim with the pistol on the last remaining stallion.

The last stallion dropped the knife which he had been holding in his mouth this whole time and turned around to run away. “I don’t wanna die!” The stallion shouted as he ran and almost falling over his own hooves as he did.

Yet, the mare didn’t pay any attention to the stallion’s plea, she took aim and let out three rounds into his body before he too hit the ground like his bandit friends. The bandit hit the pavement face first as the blood began to pool around his twitching body. She turned around to the little colt and hugged him, “How many times have I told you not to leave mommy?” It looked like the mare was ready to cry.

Graphite took the rifle away from the window sill and placed it on his back again. He rushed down the stairs, almost tripping when he got to the last step. He’s just glad no pony was there to see that.

He calmly walked outside and slowly approached the blue mare, he didn’t want to scare her. “Are you two okay?” he said in a gentle voice.

The blue mare and the white colt then looked up at Graphite, “Yes, yes we are,” the mare replied, “Thank you... you must be the one who saved us,” she guessed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, tilting his head.

The mare proceeded to hug Graphite when he came closer. She had tears forming in her eyes, “You have no idea for how long have they stalked us.”

“I’m glad that I was able to help, m-ma’am,” he told her and also hugged the mare. He wanted to keep this hug, it was the first sentiment from any living being he’s had in a while - but he didn’t want to make it awkward.

The mare wiped her tears and pulled the little colt by her side, “My name is Turquoise and this is my son Adan.”

Graphite tilted his head again, “I’m Corporal Graphite.”

The mare smirked, “Yes, I can read that on your armour.”

Graphite blushed a bit and chuckled, the neck plate of his armor was basically a business card apparently. Turquoise took a second to check out Graphite’s armour, she had never seen anything like it before, “Where’d you get this suit of yours?” She asked politely.

“Oh, I...” Graphite thought about it for a moment, he felt another slight headache. This one didn’t seem to hurt as much as the others, but he remembered something about the war, “I... think I got it some time during the war-”

“-War?” Turquoise interrupted, “You mean the war with the Zebras?”

“Of course! It couldn’t have been maybe just a few months ago-”

Turquoise interrupted him again, “-A few months? I think you mean a few hundred years - the war ended almost two hundred years ago.”

Graphite was baffled; he knew he had to been frozen for some time, but not two hundred years. He was confused, trying to think of a reasonable question to ask. He went ahead with the obvious, “So the war is over?”

Turquoise facehoofed, seeming a little annoyed, “Yes! A very long time ago - probably about two hundred years - the war ended. That’s because every corner of the globe was hit by a megaspell bomb! We don’t know from whom, and from where - we just know that the world ended that day. The one’s who survived were left to wallow in what was left.” She was very pestered, like a foul had asked her the same question again and again. Turquoise kept her temper down the best she could; letting out a long sigh afterwards.

Graphite was just in awe. It seems one can miss a lot in two hundred years. He felt stupid and bothersome, but he just needed to know what happened, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve been trapped in a room for those past two hundred years.”

“Two hundred years? I’m sorry - that’s kinda hard to believe. The only ponies who can live that long are-”

“I have proof!” Graphite butted in and took out the newspaper cut out from the pocket of his duster. He unfolded the paper, and handed it to Turquoise.

The mare looked at it, noticing when it was dated, and couldn’t believe it was really him in the picture. She blushed a light red, “I guess you just wanted to know what happened after all those years... sorry.” She folded the paper back up just as before and handed it back to Graphite, when her colt cut in from behind her.

“You’re just like the pony on the poster!” Adan spoke, looking up to Graphite with a smile.

“Uh, What poster?”

“The one I have by my bed!” Adan looked at his mother, “Can we take him home? I just wanna show him the poster!” the young colt pleaded, grabbing his mom’s leg and bouncing up and down.

Turquoise looked down at her son, shooing him off, but smiled, “Well, you should ask him if he wants to come.”

Adan then looked at Graphite, “Do you?”

“Yes, that would be very nice - I don’t have anywhere special to go,” He answered with a grin.

“We don’t live far from here, just follow us,” The mare mentioned and they all took off, heading down the road and past the dead bandits.

As the three neared Turquoise and Adan’s home, the neighborhood became more and more familiar to Graphite. He knew the street which they walked, but he remembered it having more ponies walking to and fro across the sidewalks. The houses surrounding him also seemed familiar, but he never had the chance to be inside them.

They finally approached a three story red brick house. The blasts had torn away the roof and the top of the third floor, but the rest of the house remained more or less intact. The windows were blown out, but were covered up by large pieces of plywood.

Graphite stopped, feeling another headache approaching. He stared at the red building and whispered, “Home...” Without paying any attention to the headache he started to run and ran past the family of two and shouted, “I’m home again!”

The blue mare shrugged and just looked at Adan, they had no idea why he got so excited.

Graphite ran through the door to the staircase and up the stairs to the second floor. He almost tripped again on the stairs again, but ignored it and soon was in front of a black wooden door. The pain in his head bounced around like a pinball, but the excitement of being back at home sedated it.

He shoved the door open, it wasn’t locked, “Mama! Papa! I’m home again!” he shouted as he ran into the apartment. When there was no response, he stopped and started to slowly look around, he walked down the hallway and made his way to the kitchen which connected with the small living room.

The room was empty. The paint on the walls had crumbled off for the most part. Several tiles were missing in the kitchen, the cabinets were molded and eaten away by termites, and the counter-tops had some dents in them. The table which stood in the middle of the room looked like it had been gathering dust for quite a while; the chairs were no different.

Graphite continued to the bedroom. He opened the door, but stopped at the archway when he noticed a skeleton sleeping on the bed. It looked like it had been laying there for a long while; cobwebs collected across the corners in the room and stretched on even to the skeleton. He noticed a note by the hoof of the dead pony and levitated it over to read it,

“My name is Granite. I’ve taken a few different drugs which are supposed to take effect soon and kill me so I don’t have much time left. I’ve received a message that my son has gone missing while he was on the front lines. I haven’t heard anything from him or the military, he must be gone. My wife has also gone, her weak heart unable to keep on working. They were the only joy I had left and without them life seems pointless. All that I can leave to this world is this scarp of paper and nothing else. I leave you one last thing - a goodbye.”

Graphite froze in shock. The dead pony laying on his bed was his father. He walked up to the bed and whispered with tears in his eyes, lamenting his dad with silent sobs.

He fell down on his knees. He wanted to hold his father’s hoof, but he didn’t want to disturb his body. His hooves quaked with disparity; he was about to cry, when he heard a voice.

Turquoise spoke out of nowhere; she had walked up the stairs and into the room so quietly, that Graphite didn’t notice her, “I know how it is to find someone you love dead,” She knelt down next to him, resting her hoof on his back.

Graphite looked up at the blue mare, “How would you know something like that?”

“Well, my mom and I were scavenging somewhere in downtown Buckago. We were in what used to be a toy store and suddenly there was some shouting outside. My mother told me to stay put - so I did. I waited for her for hours, there were quite a few toys still left in the store so I had something to do, but eventually I went outside,” Turquoise frowned, she was getting a bit choked up, “The first thing I saw outside was my mother. She lied on the concrete in a pool of her own blood.”

Graphite asked again, “What happened to her?”

“Raiders... raiders happened. They chopped her with cleavers and knives. The left side of her face had been almost torn apart. The rest of her skin was covered in long, deep cuts.” Turquoise let out a long sigh, “Yet, she withstood that pain and didn’t even weep. She knew that if she would have screamed, I would have gone looking for her and would run straight into the raiders. She sacrificed herself for me...” There was a long silence; they both seemed to sympathise one another, they both were in a sorrow, and they both felt sorry for the other.

They didn’t know what to say next, they were both at a loss of words. He and Turquoise simply sat by his father’s bed, each thinking of their dead loved ones. Graphite only had his mother and father. He didn’t have any other relatives, but that only made him feel closer with the two he had. What was strange, was that now Graphite clearly remembered everything about his father - how he came home each evening from the work in the docks, telling about how many crates he and his fellow dockworkers had unloaded from the ships. His father’s stories were almost always the same, but every evening Graphite patiently listened to the stories and every time he could hear something new about the ships. All of those memories were of his father - he could just barely remember what his mother was like.

Graphite took this silence to try and think of his mother. There was nothing, barely even the image of her. He thought and wondered, trying to lead his mind into a memory of her, but there didn’t seem to be anything.

The silence was broken by a young colts voice, “Mommy, I’m hungry...” The colt stopped in the archway. Graphite and Turquoise both looked at Adan before Turquoise said to him, “Of course sweetie, we’ll be right there...”

Adan then ran out of the room, down the stairs, and vanished; followed by Turquoise and Graphite.

They went down into the basement. Graphite saw that the basement had been turned into the home of Turquoise and Adan. It had changed from a damp and dark room to a cozy nest underground. There was a small black stove and an old table with two folding chairs next to it. Above the table hanged a little lantern; it still hadn’t been lit as the light from outside still came into the underground room. By the walls, there were mattresses set on cheap wooden frames - one for each of them. A large recruitment poster hanged by one of the beds.

The poster depicted a pony rushing out of a trench with a heap of dirt thrown up in the air by an artillery blast, in the background. Poster boasted in big white letters, “In the face of obstacles - COURAGE” and “Join the Equestrian Army Marine Corps today!” Just below. The pony in the poster held a vaguely familiar rifle, a black matte rifle with a long magazine and a sharpened bayonet on the end of the barrel. The pony was dressed in a suit of armor which was almost identical to the one which Graphite wore - it only lacked the black duster.

“See, I told you - you’re just like the pony in the poster!” A voice of a young colt interrupted the silence again. It seemed that speaking out of nowhere when others least expected it was Adan’s special talent.

Graphite inspected the poster some more, he could feel another memory coming to mind, but he stopped to talk to Adan, “Well, I guess I am.” He told him, taking a closer look at the poster while he stroked his chin.

He turned around and looked at Adan, “Where’d you get this, Adan?” Graphite asked him with a soft voice.

“My mommy found it when we went out scav- um- looking for stuff,” Adan stated. He had a very carefree smile that really seemed to beam and almost brightened up the mood. This little colt didn’t seem to realize he was stuck in an apocalyptic little village with a risk of bandits attacking him everyday - and he didn’t mind. Maybe it was because of his age, but Adan was just happy to be alive. Graphite felt the need to smile, before Turquoise came by, “Dinner’s ready, boys.”

Adan jumped up and yelled a “Yay!” and galloped to the table. Graphite followed close behind; Turquoise had the table all set with three bowls of stew heated and waiting for them to eat it. They only had one pair of chairs, so Turquoise had a small crate with a pillow on top to placed next to the table just for him.

“That’s all homemade, I hope you enjoy it,” Turquoise joked, tossing the opened can of soup in the corner.

“Yes, this looks fresh out the oven,” Graphite added with a sarcastic tone.

Turquoise took her seat when both the boys took theirs. Adan and his mother started to eat as soon as they sat down. Graphite sat down at the desk and looked at his dish and at the dishes of the colt and the mare. Each had a slop of carrot and pea stew served from a hundred year old can. Yet it was not the age of the food about which Graphite was concerned - it was the portion. Each of them had about one third of the can on their plates. A portion that small didn’t seem enough to feed Adan, let alone him or Turquoise. Though as shocked Graphite was, he was still hungry and was a guest, so he didn’t want to be rude. He grabbed the spoon and started to eat. The food was half decent; the carrots tasted slightly stale and the broth had a thick texture, but it was food. Soon, there was just a little puddle of soup and a few peas sitting at the bottom of the bowl.

Graphite looked at Turquoise and Adan. They hadn’t finished eating, so he turned his head at the mare and asked, “Those, um... raiders today - why were they chasing you and your son?”

Turquoise had her spoon halfway to her mouth, but stopped herself to answer. With a groan, she told him, “They were looking for ‘recruits.’ The raiders usually have no time to raise up their own young so they simply steal foals from other ponies.”

“And no one has tried to stop them?”

“Some have, and all of them failed. It seems like when you kill one - three more pop up! They won’t stop, show there’s only one way to deal with them - show no mercy. They would slit your throat if you hesitate for even a second.”

“So you just let them be?”

“Yes, we do; but if they ever come into our business, then I fight back. I’m just trying to keep Adan safe - I’m the only pony he has.”

“What about...” Graphite caught himself before he finished, bringing something up like that would just be devastating. He looked down at his empty bowl, a bit of carrot stuck to the bottom.

“He doesn’t have a father,” Turquoise expressed.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Don’t be...” Turquoise looked over at Adan, who was still enjoying his small dinner. She got up out of her chair and trotted over to him, “Mommy, needs to talk with our guest alone; and it’s just about your bedtime,” She told him in a soft tone.

Adan dropped his spoon in the bowl and looked up at Turquoise, “But Mom-”

“No buts, you’re going to bed now.”

Adan frowned, but nonetheless listened to his mother’s command. He turned around and lifted his arms up. Turquoise picked him up, helping him out of his chair. She rested her hoof on his back and guided him to his bed - Graphite just watched. Adan had his head down, he didn’t seem to want to go to bed. He finally got to his bed; he struggled to climb atop it. Graphite felt bad, the colt had no blankets to keep him warm; he didn’t even have a pillow to sleep on.

Adan didn’t seem to care, but Graphite did. He remembered the pair of pillows that cushioned his crate. He pulled them out from under him and carried it over. Turquoise was stroking her colt’s mane, not taking notice to Graphite. He didn’t intrude, he just walked in behind her, and rested Adan’s head gently on the pillow. Adan’s eyes were getting heavy, slowly closing on their own. Turquoise hummed a soothing tune, almost sending Graphite to sleep too. Little Adan finally shut his eyes and fell asleep; Turquoise kept petting him softly, but looked over at Graphite, “Thank you, I think we can talk now,” She mentioned. She stood up, inviting Graphite back to the table.

Graphite picked up Adan’s chair, and moved it opposite to Turquoise. She set aside the bowls of soup, pulled up the chair, and looked Graphite straight in the eye, “Adan’s not my kid.”

Graphite stopped, shifting quickly from Adan then back to Turquoise, “Did you find him somewhere?”

“No, I mean - he’s mine... just not legitimately...” Her voice was getting choked up again, but she didn’t let Graphite out of her sight.

“What exactly do you mean, Turquoise?” Graphite spoke in a low voice, he knew this was a much more serious matter - and he didn’t want to wake up Adan.

“Those bandits out there, that last stallion is -- was -- his dad.”

“How could that-”

“-If you let me finish, I will tell you.” Her voice picked up, slightly louder and more heated; this seemed to be a really hard subject for her.

Graphite sat back, becoming instantly silent, waiting for Turquoise to continue.

“It was about five years ago, I was just walking through this wasteland we call home, when I find a shack just outside the last town I was in. I needed the supplies, so I went ahead and checked it out. From the looks of it, it seemed abandon - just an old run down shack in the outskirts of some random city. I came up to the shack, I heard the sound of some pony’s hoofsteps, then I blacked out. I don’t know what happen - and probably never will - but when I woke up, I was tied to a dirty bed and all my stuff was gone. I struggled and tugged on the ropes, they weren’t going to break, but the bed frames seemed to nudge just a bit. I pulled on them again, but that’s when a stallion came into the shack. The shack was pitch black, all the windows were blocked off, only a small little lava lamp on a shelf above me to light the place; so when that pony swung open the door, it was like the sun had came in with him. I couldn’t see him, just his silhouette, but I could hear his maniacal chuckle just as he walked towards me...”

Tears were forming in Turquoises eyes, she wanted to cry, but she didn’t want to seem weak. She just wiped her tears, took a deep breath, and continued with the story, “I’ll never forget what that bastard did to me that moment... he came up to me... grabbed my head and forced me too look at him... I still couldn’t see him, but his cold stare was enough to see... he grabbed me, jumped on top of me, and then raped me-!” Turquoise couldn’t hold back her sorrow any longer; she wept. Graphite wasn’t sure what to do, he didn’t want to break the silence, but he had to comfort Turquoise. He was about to get, sliding his chair back just an inch, when Turquoise stopped him, “-I couldn’t bare the pain... but he finished... it was done and over... but I needed to get out. The cord from the lava lamp was hanging near my hoof. I tugged the ropes, broke the frame, grabbed the cord, and pulled. The lamp fell right on his head and burn the fucker right off of me. He was being cooked while I got free. My stuff was sitting in the corner; I grabbed it and ran. And ran and ran and ran. Time passed, and then little Adan was born - I named him after my father.” Turquoise still had a stream of tears, but she was looking better.

Graphite couldn’t speak; he was in a trance of pity. Such a depressing tale to hear, this world has turned to shit. He sat their, looking at Turquoise. She just held her head down, waiting for the tears to subside. There was no sense of time, there was nothing else to disturb them - just the feeling of sadness that couldn’t be escaped from. They both sat there in a silence, letting the pain sink in. Graphite wasn’t sure how much time passed between the end of her story and now, but eventually, Turquoise got up out of her chair and slowly trudged to her bed.

She stopped right before her bed, “If you need a place to stay, you’re welcome to use one of the rooms upstairs.” She sat down on the bed, planting her face in her hooves.

Graphite didn’t reply, he just got up out of the chair, and went for the stairs. He started up, just at the first step, Turquoise’s voice could be heard again, “Goodnight.”

Graphite paused, he didn’t go back, he just responded with, “Goodnight.”

He got up the flight of stairs. When he looked out the window, he could see that the sun had already gone down. He looked down at his Pip-Buck, 22:09. Just about ten o’clock. This was pretty early, Graphite thought for sure it would have been later. He passed through the second floor, past the front counter, and went up the second flight of stairs. He found himself back at his old apartment, and right back across from his parent’s room. The bad memory of his father’s skeleton was coming back, but he fought the memory. He pushed his door open.

His apartment was set up no different than the other rooms. The bed was just ahead of him, the robust wooden wardrobe to the left, and a work desk sitting against the wall to the right. A petite side table lay next to the bed; there was a lamp on top, but it was long since working. It didn’t take long to notice the ceiling was missing. The moonlight refracted all the dust floating about the room. There was a sort of twinkle over his bed. His sheets were a light gray, but were probably a nice red back in its prime. The pillows had lost their fluff, the bed frame looked weak, and the mattress springs were probably all busted or missing. Graphite closed the door behind him, then went over to look in the wardrobe. He reached for the handles, finding they were missing. He pulled them open with his magic. A cloud of dust wafted out of the wardrobe and into Graphite’s face. He coughed and wheezed, swatting the dust away from his face. He looked inside, still hacking dust out of his mouth, and saw nothing but a small cardboard box.

There was no wrapping around, no postage stamps or notes - it was just a dainty little box sitting in the wardrobe. He lifted it up using his levitation spell, bringing it up to eye level. He blew off the thick layer of dust that gathered on it and opened the lid. There was a silver plated pistol - about a .45 calibre - it was resting on top of the Equestrian flag, folded into a triangle. On top of the gun was a ragged piece of paper. He pulled it out, using his horn’s light to help him read.

“Dear Ms. Ambrosia,

This letter is to confirm our recent telegram in which you were regretfully informed that your son, Corporal Graphite, 678452056, EAMC, has been reported missing in action while on duty in the Triolet Island System.

We realize the distress, caused by failure to receive more information or details; therefore, we wish to assure you that in the event additional information is received at any time, it will be transmitted to you without any delay. If no information is received in meantime, we will communicate with you again in three months from the date of this letter. It is the policy of the Armed Forces, to convey you any details.

We extend to you our deepest sympathy during this period of uncertainty.”

So, one more reason his parents thought that he was dead - told your son was lost on the battlefield. It was just as bad as being told your son actually was dead, but now they leave the receiver the mystery of their loved one’s fate - driving them to anxiety, most likely. Graphite knew they must have sent this just before he was frozen in the chamber. Why the military would send this letter was out of his comprehension. Graphite wondered why couldn’t they just send them a letter saying he was going to be frozen for next two hundred years. He just thought it seemed idiotic, this one letter - this one false letter - and now his parents lost their only child. The only regards of them were this telegram, a flag they could pick up for a bit and a half at any store, and a pistol that they would never need.

He proceeded to check out the pistol. It was a ceremonial version of the .45 calibre sidearm that came standard issue with military personnel since its development. The frame was a dark silver and featured a brown wooden grip. The design was simple and smooth; the liability of the gun was the reason why it retained its usefulness. Graphite pulled the slide back and checked the magazine well. There was no rust, all the springs pulled back fine, and the slide kept its smooth pullback. The gun could probably be fired now if he had ammunition for it, but finding ammo in this wasteland is a long shot at best. He wanted the pistol though, so he took it out, but the flag was tangled on it. He pulled it off and the flag with it. Two magazines were hidden at the bottom of the box -- rather conveniently. The bullets seemed good enough, and he needed anything he could find out in such a a dangerous world; he took the mags and pistol, then tried to put the flag back in the box. The fold was such a perfect triangle, he had no idea how to get it back like that - so he just stuffed it inside the box, placing the lid back loosely.

He brushed away some of the dust on the box after placing the lid back; hiding under the dust was a message, “Be Brave, Fight On.” The package was for him if he was ever to return home, something Granite couldn’t stand to receive in his mail. He rested the box back in the wardrobe, never to be opened again.

Graphite laid the pistol and and magazines on the side table next to the bed, then headed for his desk. There was one column of drawers on the side, the desk had a headboard and two side boards. There was a small rack attached along the headboard. Nothing was on the desk except some scratches. He opened the squeaky drawers - nothing but blank paper.

It was getting late, and Graphite couldn’t help but yawn. The old, dusty bed was looking more and more comfortable. He dropped his bag next to the desk and jumped into bed. The dust flew upward in a cloud when he hit the bed, but it was a bed. It wasn’t much of one, but it worked.

There was no use in pulling up the sheets, the armour kept him warm enough. He lied his head on the pillow and looked up through his makeshift skylight. He could see all the stars that shined in the night sky. The moon was right in the middle of the sky, illuminating the bed he lied on. He tried to make out some constellations in the stars, but there were so many it was hard to make out even a straight line. Graphite stared at the stars for just a few minutes, then he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Chapter 3: Oh What a Dream

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Graphite was seating at the dinner table in the dining room eating, his father Granite was just across the table enjoying the meal of pea and carrot stew; his mother Ambrosia was in the kitchen washing the dirty dishes. Ambrosia just finished up the plates and was placing them into the cabinets. She was an averaged sized earth mare. She was aged, but wasn’t old. Her coat was a fine champagne colour with a matching tan coloured mane - only a few gray hairs here and there. Granite was no different from his father, it could be easily seen Graphite was his son. He had a similar rock gray coat and a silver mane, only his was cut slightly shorter. His eyes were about the same deep blue. Granite was only a year older than his wife. She kept focused on the plates, but she didn’t let it interrupt the conversation she was going to strike up, “So, what did you do today, Graphite?” She asked kindly.

Graphite swallowed his mouthful of food, turned to his mother, and replied, “Well, the usual - but I did go down to the recruitment offices and enlisted for the EAMC.”

His mother dropped the plate in her hoof in shock; almost shattering it to pieces against the counter-top. She turned to him with a slight worry in her voice, “You did what?”

“I-I joined the army,” Graphite answered, a little concerned.

“But there’s a war going on. You’ll get sent straight to the front lines!” She raised her voice, storming up to the table.

“Mama, don’t worry, I’m a stallion now and I can take care of myself.”

“What if you get killed? You’re our only son, there’s no pony more special to us than you an- Granite, talk to him!”

Granite didn’t seem to notice, he was still trying to finish his stew. Ambrosia hit his shoulder, knocking the spoon from his hoof. He gulped down what he had in his mouth and cleared his throat, “Well, your mother’s right, boy - the military is very dangerous.”

“You could be a little more worried for our son, Granite!” Ambrosia snapped at him.

He sighed, taking a moment to think about what to say next, “Maybe, um... you could have came to us first and talked about it?”

Graphite didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to trouble them anymore, “I thought about it for long time, and I-I- uh... I just thought it was the best decision to make...”

Ambrosia was still in major shock; she believed she might lose her only child, just because he thought it was a good idea. She pulled the seat out of the table and sat down next to Granite. She was speechless - they all were - Granite simply continued eating his dinner.

“Mama-”

“You don’t have to say anything; I guess I don’t really have anymore say in this than your father - and your father doesn’t seem to mind... do you really think this is the right thing to do?”

“I do, Mama, that’s why I did it.”

“We just want the best for you, Graphite.”

“I think our boy is old enough to make his own decisions,” Granite butted in.

Ambrosia took a breath, and let out a short sigh, “Okay.”

Graphite felt a burden lift of his chest, he was happy, but he knew his mother was still just a bit unsure. He picked up his plate of stew and trotted over to the sink. He turn the faucet on and placed his dish under it. The water flowed down his hooves, but his face feeling a bit wet - like he was sweating.

A drop of water hit his eye.

Graphite opened his one eye, he was lying in bed with storm clouds just above him. That whole conversation was just a dream, but it didn’t feel like one. It was more realistic, like he was actually there talking to his parents. His head was slightly numb, but that’s when he realized that the dream was a memory. The rain looked foggy and dark, almost black. It felt weird on his fur, so Graphite got out of bed as fast as he could. He grabbed his duster from the floor and laced it around him, then went for his bag that he leaned against the desk. He was just about to make it out the door when he remembered the pistol on the side table; he grabbed it using his magic and tossed it into his, strapping the lid down. His room was being soaked down by a dark liquid that wasn’t going to let up soon. The clouds above were just as dark a black as the rain itself, almost blocking out the light from the moon.

He checked his Pip-Buck for the time - 1:15. It was way to early to be awake, especially for Graphite. He moved down the stairs down to the first floor. Graphite yawned when he got to the floor, searching around for a place to sleep. To the left of the front desk was another room. He tried that one.

He got up to the door, the numbers were torn off, but the imprint of the number ‘1’ was still on the door. He tried the lock, but it came off in his hoof. He grumbled, pushing the door down with a little thrust. The door swung open, hitting the wall nearby. There was the same cloud of dust that seemed to infest this building, but he noticed the room was empty. All the drawers were pulled out of the desk, the wardrobe was wide open, and the sheets on the bed were thrown into the corner against the side table. The pillow was even missing. Not a trace of anything remained in the apartment, some pony or some ponies ransacked the entire room. Graphite’s only worry was for the bed, and luckily no pony took that. He dropped his gear against the foot of the bed, and dropped into the mattress. He didn’t even bother to get comfortable, he just let his exhaustion take him back to sleep.

Graphite was standing cramped together between two other ponies in the train-cart. The train started coming to a stop, the sounds of the steam engine blowing out puffs of smoke started to gradually lose it’s tempo. Graphite couldn’t see out the window, some pony’s head was blocking the view, but he could tell they were nearing the train station. The train jolted when the breaks hit the wheels. A loud screech bounded out from the chassis, slowly halting the train’s movement. The train finally came to a stop, a loud hiss coming from the breaks. The train doors opened up, the orange light flooding inside the cart. Graphite blocked the rays with his hoof, and so did the his fellow train riders. A porter was standing out on the platform, guiding the ponies off the train.

“Every pony needs to head straight for the train station. Those who are here for the marine course, the military police will be there to further inform you!” The porter directed.

Everyone piled out of the train in a hurry - they all wanted to get out that cramped, sweaty train-cart. Some of them even pushed and shoved their way out, but eventually they all made it out, with Graphite at the rear. The group walked into the train station, shoulder to shoulder just like before. Graphite was glad he was in the back, now he didn’t have a pony breathing down his neck the whole time. He entered the train station, it was as wide as a hoofball field and three times as long. There was definitely enough room to fit every one of these cadets - and more. The station’s ceiling seemed to touch the sky. Brass chandeliers hung above, illuminated every inch of the building with a solid light. The ceiling was a golden brown wood, each panel had a matching carving shaped into a diamond. The walls were a darker tan colour, made of small bricks that went down to the tall slab of marble that made up the foundation.The floor was a gorgeous work of design; there was one long, white section of marble that created a walkway across the centre of the station with a series of coloured stripes racing down it. The rest of the marble floor was a red-ish brown marble, made with small square tiles. The train station was nothing he had ever seen - and probably ever will see. There were rows after rows of chairs lining the sides of the building. He looked back to the pack of cadets; ahead of him, he saw a pony standing in the middle of the aisle.

“Attention cadets!” Shouted a red pony in a tan shirt. The pony also wore a black metal helmet and a black armband, both of which had ‘MP’ written on them. That obviously was the military police pony about which the porter had told them about.

As soon as the pony shouted, a group of ponies including Graphite separated from the rest of the crowd and walked up to the red pony in the uniform. The MP started to count the ponies,

“Alright, there’s thirty of you. That means ten ponies in each of the carts. Come on recruits -- double time!” The red pony yelled again and pointed towards the side exits.

Everyone picked up their pace and soon reached three carts that stood outside. The carts were long, wooden carts with a rounded, green tarp covering the body of the cart. There were four ponies, all wearing ‘MP’ gear, were at the end of the reins ready to pull the cart. The first two groups piled unto the carts quickly; Graphite was in the last group and they got on the cart just as fast.

After getting in the final cart, they moved out. Once again, he was squeezed in between other ponies and could barely move. On the way, none of the ponies spoke, they all looked down or out the end of the cart. At times, someone sneezed or coughed, but no words interrupted the gentle rocking of the cart. The landscape became ever more serene the further away from the train station they traveled. The trees and the brush started to come into bloom, some lilacs came into view just to the left of the bumpy dirt road. Graphite was arched over, looking out the end of the cart and thought about only one thing - ‘Was joining the army the right thing to do?’ He had no doubts in is mind when he signed up, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he should had thought this through just a little while longer - but it was too late now. There was regret, but then there was excitement. He made into the armed forces and was going to carryout a great service for his land. Graphite could just think about his decision; the ponies wouldn’t speak, and there was nothing else to do. He knew it was too late, but it was only his right to think back on it.

After an hour of being cramped into the wagon, it suddenly stopped. The cart’s wheels ground against the gravel, kicking some small pebbles against the tarp. Every pony suddenly woke up from their thoughts and their sleep.

“Alright cadets, out of the carts - let’s go!” Declared the deep voice of a forest green stallion standing outside the three carts. Graphite had heard that same yell back at the train station, “Once you’re out of the cart, form a line!”

Everyone piled out of the cart as fast as they could and lined up quickly, just as the drill sergeant told them to. Graphite seemed to never escape the feeling of standing shoulder to shoulder with another pony - by now he had gotten use to it.

They stood out in a flat, treeless field; in front of them was a large fence, made out of a metal net and laced with barbed wire. Behind the fence were a row of small, wooden barracks that made up for the barren landscape. Another row of slightly larger buildings, probably for the officers. The bigger buildings stood watch over the barracks, casting their superior shadows over them. There were other ponies standing outside the barracks talking and going about their own business. Behind Graphite, there was an obstacle course. It started off with a random assortment of tires along the ground; it moved into a short sprint before you had to dive down and belly crawl underneath a layer of barbed wire; a large, wooden wall with ropes strung to the top came next; the obstacle course took a curve right, into a pit of thick mud; after the run through the mud, there was another barrier over the course - making you crawl through the mud now. After that, the rest of the course was obscured.

Soon, a white pegasus in uniform came out walking from nowhere. His uniform was a tan button-up shirt, a plethora of badges and medals were decorated on the left of the shirt; he wore a big, round hat that made a big bowl over his head and a surrounding it as the rim. He stood tall and had his chest out, he was very built and had a very harsh and serious countenance. He stopped just midway of the group of cadets and called them to focus.

“Attention!” Pronounced the white stallion, “I am Sergeant Typhoon and I will be your drill instructor! When I ask you something the answer is and always will be ‘Yes Sir!’ Do you greenhorns understand me?”

“Yes sir!” All of the cadets responded without missing a beat.

“This gorgeous building complex behind me is the Camp Sequoia. After you leave this camp - after three months of training - you will be an instrument of war! But until that day, you’re the lowest form of life in the whole of Equestria! You’re all worthless bags of maggot shit and not even worth the dirt around your mother’s grave! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir!”

“I can’t hear you!”

“YES SIR!”

“Good, now I want every single one of you whorish slime balls to grab your gear and head for your barracks - now!”

“Yes sir!” Every cadet responded, making a mad dash for the gear that lay in rows just adjacent to where they stood. It was packed up in green duffel bags.

Everyone grabbed their gear, fumbling around to put on their uniforms. Graphite finally got to his duffel bag and opened it up. Inside were a small box with a toothbrush in it, a towel and the cadet uniform. The cadet uniform consisted of a tan, button up shirt; the design never went any farther than the cotton stitching and generic sand coloured buttons. He pulled the shirt over him and buttoned it up, rushing to keep pace with the other cadets around him. He finally got his uniform on, the drill sergeant came back in front of the crowd of cadets.

“Everyone dressed? Good! Head out for the barracks; I expect to see your sorry asses in there in three minutes!”

“Yes sir!” Everyone screamed again, grabbing their duffel bags and running for the small brown buildings that scattered across the grass and dirt. They got up in groups of ten once again, marching towards the barracks ahead.

They all reached the wooden buildings and shuffled inside. Inside, were small wooden beds, covered with a green blanket and a white pillow - all lined up against the walls. At the end of the room, there was a small, black metal stove. The body of the stove was a big block of metal with two doors - one for the cooking tray, the other for cleaning out the inside; the stove stood on four stumpy legs and one long chimney protruded upwards and up to the ceiling. Graphite didn’t see any use from the stove, seeing as it was the middle of summer. They each walked inside the room and took the nearest bed which hadn’t already have a duffel bag next to it.

Graphite got a bed almost at the very end of the room. He sat his bad down and sat himself down on the hard mattress, unsure of what to do next. They had no further directions, so they all simply awaited for the drill Sergeant to arrive.

A few of the ponies down at the end of the room were already starting up a conversation. A few of them gathered around each other, showing off whatever they smuggled into boot camp. A pony brought in a tiny bottle of whiskey, another snuck in a pin-up, and another bringing in a packet of cigarettes. They passed the trinkets around, talking and laughing about their things like toys during ‘show and tell.’ Graphite just lay in his bed, looking up at ceiling. Another cadet came by, taking the bed just adjacent of his. He was eager to take the bed, throwing his duffel bag right down on the mattress. Graphite tilted his head over to take a look over at his new neighbor.

It was just about that time when the drill sergeant stormed into the barracks. The cadets with the smuggled items panicked and fumbled about to hide their items again. Everyone jumped to their hooves, giving a salute to Sergeant Typhoon. The sergeant’s eyes were unwavering, fixed only forward. He trotted passed every pony until he reached the end of the room - without a word. He turned about, and faced the recruits, taking a moment to scan over all of them, “I hope you ass-wipes can hear me!” He hollered, letting everyone back to their usual business, “I hope you sheep-fuckers get to bed early, ‘cause we start our schedule tomorrow! It’s early rise next morning - o’four hundred hours on the dot! So... everyone of you in your beds ASAP!” Typhoon ordered with a swing of his hoof.

“Yes sir!” Everyone replied in unison.

Each and every pony in the room hopped into their beds, slipping under the covers, and lying down in no more than a couple of seconds. One pony even had to turn the lights out before jumping into his bed. Their eyes were shut tight and they didn’t make a peep or a movement - they were all ‘asleep.’

“Hope you cock-suckers have nice nightmares, because we’re going into one tomorrow!” With that, the sergeant bolted out of the barracks and head off to wherever he was going. The so called night was barely dim, the sun was still out - but only enough for the orange of the sunset to beam through the small windows around the barrack. A few bits of whispers and low toned voices came from the grey.

“Psst... hey!” A voice whispered from the bed next to him, “The grey guy, uh what’s your name?”

“Me? Oh, my name is Graphite - you?” Graphite whispered back.

“I’m Spotty, nice to meet you!” The pony in the bed next to him extended a hoof. Graphite held out his hoof to give him a friendly hoofshake across the space between the beds and returned the gesture.

“Where ‘you from Graphite?”

“I’m from Carnen, down in Buckago. What about you?”

“Bucklyn, Manehattan.”

“Manehattan? I’ve never been there myself.”

“Well I haven’t been to Buckago neither”

“Hey, is it really like in that song?”

“Which one?”

“You know, ‘Manehattan, where all the mares are soaked in satin...’ that song!”

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean. For the mares downtown sure, but I couldn’t say that for any mares I know.”

“Do you know a lot of mares?”

“Heh,” Spotty chuckled, “I guess I could say that I know quite a few...” He gave Graphite a wink and a cocky grin, he was proud of his accomplishment.

Spotty opened his mouth again, “Graphite! Breakfast is done!” He shouted, but his voice sounded like it was coming from little Adan.

Graphite sat up, opening his eyes just slightly and rubbing them with the back of his hoof. Adan was sitting on Graphite’s chest, he couldn’t feel a thing because of the thick armour plating. Adan looked at him with the same innocent eyes that he usually brings about him, and had a nice big smile on his face. Graphite almost jumped, but relieved to see it was just Adan.

“‘You say breakfast?” Graphite rebutted.

“Yes! We have some nice bread and water waiting for you downstairs!” Adan jumped to his hooves, but was still standing on Graphite’s chest.

“That’s great... I’ll be down as soon as you get off of me...” Graphite said, just ready to pick Adan off of his chest himself.

“Okay!” Adan bounded off Graphite’s armour, and landed hooves first unto the floor. He went ahead and sprinted out of the apartment room, his hoofsteps could be heard jumbling down the stairway. Graphite swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stopping right on the edge. He couldn’t understand how a boy could be so happy for a breakfast of stale bread and water - but he was just as eager for it as if it were country smoked hay and eggs. He got to his hooves, heading straight for the door and the stairway to the basement. The furnace in the corner was still going strong, illuminating the room with it’s swaying, orange glow. The family was seating around the table with their breakfast of bread and water - a pitiful sight for Graphite.

Chapter 4: So Doggone Lonesome

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Turquoise was sitting across the table from Adan, both of their plates had a stale piece of wheat bread that seemed to crumble easily; their glass of water was clear - but not completely transparent. Turquoise turned to Graphite and saw him walk in the room, “Good morning, Graphite. I hope you slept well. We had some rain outside last night and I don’t know if you noticed or not,” Turquoise said under the sound of Adan’s crunching.

Graphite was still rubbing his eyes with his hooves and yawned, “Yeah, I noticed - a few drops fell on me, but I’m not a witch - I won’t melt,” He said with a smile.

“Maybe, but I don’t think that armor of yours has any protection against radiation. ‘You soak yourself for too long in that stuff, eventually, you won’t need your horn’s glow to see at night.”

“Can I go outside then?” Graphite asked, being a bit puzzled.

“Oh, yeah, sure. The radiation disperses in the wasteland itself, but living things have the tendency to soak it up. You can’t escape it - it’s everywhere, more or less. Even the pre-war food in the wasteland. The only thing which has kept it edible after all these years was the radiation.”

Graphite finished rubbing his eyes, pulling the seat from the table, and sitting down. Turquoise finished chewing her bite of bread and continued her conversation, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy our breakfast - it’s the last one we’ll have in a while.”

“Is food really that hard to come by out here?” Graphite wondered, feeling worried for the family.

Turquoise took a small sip of water, but didn’t let it interrupt the talk, “Yes, yes it is. We usually go days without food, we come close to-” She stopped herself, noting that Adan was nearby. She got out of her seat, directing Graphite to follow her with a quick wave of her hoof. Graphite was a bit confused, raising his eyebrow at Turquoise; but then he looked over at Adan. Adan had his cheeks full of bread and was chewing it delightfully. He noticed Graphite staring at him so he turned around - with crumbs covered all over his lips and cheeks; he looked at Graphite with his same big, baby-like eyes. Adan just smiled, unaware of what was going on. Graphite couldn’t help to smile and chuckle at Adan’s carefree feelings. He looked back at Turquoise, who was waiting rather impatiently; she waved her hoof again.

Graphite stood up from his chair, and pushed back in -- it was just good manners. He stepped over to Turquoise, at which point, she pulled him closer and continued her talk in a whisper, “I didn’t want to talk about this in front of ‘you know who’,” She murmured with a flick of her head pointing at Adan, “We come closer to death at the end of the week every week just because we can’t find any food out here. Why do you think Adan’s so happy to have stale bread and water in the morning? Because this wil-”

“-this will be his only breakfast for the rest of the week?”

“Yes...” Turquoise had her hooves crossed and held closer to her chest in a feeling of lost hope. She was in no mood to cry, but the look on her face was absolutely heart breaking.

“...It’s hard providing for a child out here, Graphite, this isn’t a world to raise a kid - I didn’t expect having a foal at all...” She held herself tighter, biting her lip before she could go on with the sentence.

Graphite rested his hoof on her shoulder, speaking back to her in a softer tone, “Turquoise, I-I have some rations in my bag, you can have them,” He took Turquoise by her hoof and Graphite led her up to the first floor apartment where he had left his bag. He cantered into the room, looking for his bag. He searched under the bed and behind the desk, he paced back and forth looking for it; Turquoise was standing near it waiting for him. He shuffled over, grabbing the bag with his spell.

Graphite took out two boxes of rations from his bag. They both were white cardboard packages with read stripes lining their circumference. One of them was labeled, “Supper,” the other one was labeled, “Dinner.”

“These were meant as single meals, but if you ration them out, they should be able to last for a few days,” he was ready to hand the meal to the family, but something stopped him. He got a feeling, a tingle in his lips and a tickle in his mind that reminded him of something, “Oh, I almost forgot...” He opened the ‘Dinner’ package and took out a four-pack of Canterfield Cigarettes and the packet of matches. The cigarette package had no colour other than the tan of the cardboard and white of the label, “There, that’s all I needed,” He told her and returned the rations to the blue mare.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Turquoise said as she received the package from Graphite, “You took care of the raiders and now this... You’re a life saver, you know that?”

“It’s just what seems right,” Graphite kept his emotions cool by letting them out in a grin; a grin that just couldn’t be subdued; a grin that told the one pony there that he did something good.

She sighed with a heartwarming feel in her body, “It sure seems right to me. I guess there’s that one pony out there that changes everything for the better - like you and like Adan. From the worst possible place to find a new pony, I found my reason to keep fighting for my life. I may not find food everyday, but those moments come along like this that gives me a little push and I know that as long as I have Adan to think about, I need no more push to help me keep moving forward,” Turquoise’s hoof touched Graphite on the shoulder, her eyes were relaxed and sympathetic, “You’re a gentlecolt, and there’s nothing more you need to do to show it than how you’ve shown me,” She pulled Graphite close, giving him a caring clasp.

Graphite stood in his spot, letting Turquoise embrace him. His heart and mind were uplifted and he finally came to realize just the thing he needed to do. He wrapped his arm around her in the final moments of the hug, before she finally pulled away. Graphite could never feel any better than he did in that moment - the moment of affection and understanding. He could feel the forgiveness of his actions, and the answer to his problem both speak to him then and there.

Turquoise grabbed what she could of the rations and was already moving to take them downstairs. Graphite had a clear set in his mind and was ready to follow it; all he needed was to grab his rifle and bag and he could move out. His rifle was leaning against the destroyed wardrobe and his bag was laying where Turquoise had left it, right by his hooves. He slung the bag over him then grabbed his rifle from the wardrobe. He had nothing else on his mind except for this goal; he meandered straight out of the room and reached the entrance to the apartment.

“-Are you going to leave us without a goodbye?”

Graphite was struck out of his trance, and looked behind him to see Turquoise standing just at the top of the stairs. He paused where he stood; it took him a moment, but he finally turned around to respond.

“I would never,” Graphite said back with a smirk, tyring to hide his embarrassment.

“Then?” She looked at him like she had won the battle - a bit cocky and playful.

“Goodbye, Turquoise. It’s nice to know that I’m not the last pony in the world.”

“I guess I could say the same - mostly. Good luck to you, Graphite.”

Graphite turned back towards the doorway, when Adan came out from the basement full speed yelling, “Wait! Mister Graphite!” He came at Graphite in a bolt of speed and yelled again, “Wait!”

Graphite waited, just as little Adan screamed at him to do. Adan stood at his feet with his beady eyes staring him down. He looked down and paused for whatever it was Adan wanted, “I made you something, Graphite!” Adan said with a glee in his squeak. He pulled a tiny string out from behind him - it was a necklace. It was made of a rough leather strip tied together by a simple knot; on the end of the necklace was a small turquoise gemstone. The stone was nothing special - just an uncut piece of turquoise hanging in a string which kinda reminded Graphite of a bootlace.

“I found this one day while me and mommy scavenging. It looks just like mommy’s coat! And if you tie it in a string, you can wear it like a necklace!”

“Thank you, Adan,” Graphite said as he levitated the necklace and put it around his neck. He tied it so that the stone would be on the inside of his armor, just underneath his neck plate, “I’ll always wear it, to remind me of you.”

Adan came up to Graphite and wrapped his little arms around Graphite’s leg. Graphite patted his back, being unable to frown. Adan finally stopped and ran back to Turquoise. Graphite walked out the door and into the sun back outside; he headed in the direction of downtown Buckago. He walked down almost a block, when he turned and looked back at what used to be his home. Adan was still standing under door’s archway and waved his goodbyes when he noticed that Graphite was looking at him. Graphite also waved one last goodbye and continued down the road, passing all the abandoned homes.

He went back to the intersection in the middle of the neighborhood. Back where he started again; the same paths of choices. Downtown was just down the road through the middle of Carnen. He took a step forward; continuing his journey to downtown.

The streets were cold and quiet, much quieter than what Graphite remembered. They were once full of life, now empty and uninviting - a ghost town. He walked through another row of houses and saw some baskets with empty milk bottles laying outside doors of the apartment buildings, awaiting a milkpony which would never come. The bottles hadn’t shattered in the blasts, nor after two hundred years of wind, rain, and vandalism. One of the houses still had a newspaper awaiting the owner to pick it up. Graphite stepped to the paper to read what it had to say. The paper was soggy from last night’s rain; stained black from the black drops of dead water. The paper was impossible to read; the droplets of rain were like black paint censoring the lines of paper and keeping whatever was behind secret.

Graphite grabbed the corner of the paper and tried reading what was on the next page - which was also soaked in water. He flipped through the rest of the pages using his magic; all of them soaked down with darkened fluids. He dropped the paper, then went on with his travels. He moved on down the desolate road, moving silently down through the roads of Carnen. Every building, all the houses, and the apartments; all of them were burnt black from the smoke. The windows were either blown out or cracked from incoming debris. Memories of what his old neighborhood was like were slowly but surely flooding into his mind.

Graphite could paint the image of how Carnen once was in his mind as he walked down the road. The town was bustling with ponies walk to and fro from work or the store, wagons rode along the street carrying travelers and shippers alike. The structures around were still intact - the paint was still on them too. He remembered the milkpony bringing up the bottles of milk to each house; he remembered the song the milkpony would whistle throughout the day. It was upbeat and very cheery, it put a spring in the milkpony’s step every day and he wouldn’t stop whistling the tune until he got home -- he probably even whistled it in his sleep. Every pony in town knew his whistle, sometimes humming or whistling along with him. The milkpony never said anything, so his song was the only thing the neighborhood could recognize him by. The memory of that song was coming to Graphite again. Without warning, he began to whistle. He whistled the tune of the milkpony. The groove of the song lead into a sway, then a spring, and a skip. Before he knew it, Graphite was springing down the street like the milkpony.

Graphite skipped about whistling, until he stopped at a junction and noticed a large billboard on the wall of a red brick house. The billboard was mostly faded, the paint near the edges of it had cracked or already peeled off, “Join now!” The billboard read. It featured a yellow mare with a pink mane in a white nurses outfit and in an according white hat to go with the outfit. The yellow mare was a leader of one of the six ministries - Fluttershy. She held out a scroll entitled ‘Enlistment’ in her mouth, “Ministry of Peace serves to all of the pony kind.”

“Ministry o-” Graphite stopped reading and grabbed his head as another sharp headache hit him. He knelt down hugging his head. As he closed his eyes, he saw a bright green unicorn in a large helmet with a three butterflies painted on it, the helmet covered his mane. The unicorn was starring at him with his lime green eyes, he certainly stood out in the grey background of his memory.

“There’s a live one ‘ere!” He called out as he looked away for a second and then returned his sight to Graphite, “You okay, mate?” The green stallion asked Graphite while shaking his shoulder.

He opened his eyes again and was in the same junction in which he was earlier. The headache had gone, but the vision which he saw left him riddled and confused. Graphite got up - shaking his head - and decided to keep moving forward, yet he still thought of where he had seen that pony before. No matter how hard he tried to reach the thought, he couldn’t remember. He pressed forward, the memory fading away, but the thought still in his mind.

The road out of Carnen extended out a ways, so Graphite brought up his Pip-Buck and checked the data section for the route. Buckago was south of Carnen - almost a day’s walk. There didn’t seem to be any shorter way than to take the current road. The next neighborhood was right on the border of Bucakgo, so Graphite had to prepare for a very long journey. He checked the map one more time just to make sure he didn’t look at it wrong. Too his disappointment, he hadn’t; there wasn’t even a place to rest. There was nothing else to do, nowhere else to turn, nothing to lose. His one goal was in Buckago and if the only way there is a day’s hike down an abandoned road, well that was going to be his first obstacle on his journey. The sign saying farewell to ponies leaving Carnen was a right next to Graphite. His last
goodbye before he began his trek.

He pulled his bag open, levitating out the packet of Canterfield Cigarettes and the pack of matches. He struck a match against the matchbook and started the match going. Placing the cigarette in his mouth and lighting the end, he puffed a cloud of smoke. He remembered his radio on the Pip-Buck, so he flipped the volume up and cut the radio on. Yet again it was the 108.3 FM station, it was the only one which appeared on the radio signals page. A song was in the middle when Graphite switched on the station.

Playing was another classic back in Graphite’s time. An instrumental, the composer and the band unknown to Graphite - but they sounded good, and that’s what mattered. It was upbeat and had the swing to make anyone get up and dance. Graphite took a deep breath, letting out the relief that needed to escape in a long sigh.

Feeling mentally prepared -- or as much as he’ll ever be -- he took his step forward, starting his expedition to Buckago. One hoof after the other over the road is how Graphite traveled. One hoof after the other was the only way for him to travel. Down and down the road he went with nothing to stop him and only one thing to keep him going. Down and down the road he went almost like a robot, one action to carry out and one thing to help him complete that action. He kept moving forward, his exhaustion only to be ignored. He kept moving forward with his eyes and mind set towards reaching Buckago. One hoof after the other down and down the road, he kept moving forward to reach his goal of arriving in Buckago.

There was a thick fog that covered blanketed the trail. It covered the road ahead and behind, cutting off the area around him. He could only see the black of the road and dirt and dead grass to the sides. The fog was a disgusting shade of grey; the fog was like smoke and Graphite didn’t enjoy being in the middle of it. He couldn’t see his hoof in front of his face and the eerie landscape ahead didn’t seem very friendly. He didn’t notice before, but his pace was gradually picking up. A sound came from the fogs, piercing the cloud like a bullet. Graphite flinched and scurried faster for a short distance until he felt it had finally stopped stalking him.

He stopped his run, slowing down back to a careful trot and catching the breath he needed to keep moving. The fog still overshadowed the land, but at least Graphite had escaped that beast. Graphite never saw what made the sound, but he wanted to assume it was a vicious monster. Whether it was his own conscience creating this monster or his purposeful imagination, he was glad it gave him something to keep himself entertained. There was nothing else to do on this barren road than use his imagination to keep himself entertained - even if it meant scaring himself. The scenery wasn’t much to look at - from what he could see - just mounds of dirt and rocks, a few patches of dead grass were scattered here and there. The rest of landscape was obscured by the dingy fog.

It felt like he walked the Earth twice over, the exhaustion had been taking its toll. A minute on this road lasts an eternity, and Buckago was still a day’s away. The songs that played on the radio droned on, sometimes repeating themselves right after they finish.

Graphite was tired, lonely, and most of all - bored. His goal was reaching Buckago, but he never realized how long this road would take to travel. A day’s walk seemed like a lost cause; he would be happy if he made it there at all. He blew out a sigh, just to make sure he was still breathing. To his amazement, he was still alive - he wasn’t trapped in hell.

The fog was like the smoke from the fires of hell below. It never went away - it was always there, always around - it covered all things ahead and seemed to have no end. Nothing was in sight other than Graphite’s own four hooves. He felt like the only things around were the road and him, but there was something else lurking in the shadows of the fog. A figure appeared beneath the cover of the fog. It was tall and wide, it was standing alongside another figure just as long and wide. Graphite neared toward it, following the road as he had been since his journey began. The fog started to thin out, the two silhouettes turned into to brown brick buildings. The buildings appeared to be apartment houses; worn out wooden staircases covered the sides of the buildings while the walkways wrapped around each story. Clothes lines spanned across the two building’s balconies, with faded shirts hanging on them. The clothes were swaying lightly in the small breeze; they looked like they have been hanging on that line for the past two hundred years. Their colours had faded away with the rains. The reds had turned to pinks, the blues to grey, and whites turning into a dirty tan from the dirt fluttering through the breeze.

Graphite looked around, finding he was in the backyard of the two buildings. An old scooter was leaning against one of the stairways. It had rusted completely and even had some weeds growing up the wheels and up to the handlebars. The rust stained the wooden poles on the stairwell into a gross red-ish brown colour. There wasn’t a sign of any pony anywhere. Graphite stopped his sightseeing and checked his map screen. His marker was right on the north border of Buckago.

Graphite sighed a sigh of relief and exclaimed under his breath, “Yes!” He reached his goal; mostly happy to be off that lonesome road. Graphite felt like dancing with excitement, but his feelings meandered off immediately when a crack of glass was made from the balconies above. Graphite’s smile cut off like a light switch and he whipped his head back towards the third floor balcony.

Nothing there except the bricks on the walls and shattered glass windows. One of the rods holding up the roof of the balcony snapped off its place and plummeted to the ground. It was quiet, only the sounds of the wind whistling between the buildings and the soft puffing of Graphite’s worried breathing. He pulled his rifle from the sling and prepped it.

Graphite spun slowly in a circle, checking every notch and crevice for his predator. A gust of wind floated by and wiggled the clothes hanging on the line. Another sound came from the balconies - this time a wooden board creaking under someone’s weight. He pointed the barrel of his rifle to the second floor balcony. Nothing again - just the dust mites glittering the air and the still absence of life.

Graphite’s heart was pounding against his chest, the sounds of the beating now feeling the cold silence. With the thump thump thumping in his chest, another sound emerged from the buildings - it was now a growl. The growl was low and menacing, almost like a vicious dog. Another growl came from behind him - then another growl - and another. Graphite froze in his spot, not knowing where to look or what to do. He waited for the animals to come for him. An extremely loud bark echoed across the walls of the apartments and the crowd of growls around began in a synchronized howl.

A wild dog jumped from the first story balcony; Graphite recoiled with shock and landed on his backside. This wasn’t a golden retriever looking for his master - it was something else. This beast had patches of fur burnt off, showing only the scarred skin underneath; its eyes were glowing red with anger and balefire; its teeth looked black; and its claws were longer than normal, like they could rip straight through your chest.

The abomination leaped towards Graphite without warning, its mouth wide open and aimed straight for his neck. Graphite whipped his rifle ahead of him, blocking the bite of the monster. The slobber of the savage beast spit and swathed around, getting all over the rifle and splashing on Graphite. The dog swiped at scratched with his claws trying to get to Graphite’s neck. He tried to push back the thing, but it wouldn’t stop, it kept coming; then, the rest of the pack came from the balconies. Graphite took a look back, still holding the other dog off with the body of the rifle, there were two- three more wilds dogs coming from the buildings; all with the same charred fur and glowing green eyes as the first.

Another bounded for Graphite, teeth first - snarling and growling. Graphite tossed the first dog away with a throw of his rifle; he grabbed for his knife from the sheath and kept it straight ahead, pointing towards the other hound. The dog jumped straight unto the blade of the knife - the entire length of the blade sliding straight through its chest. The beast squealed in pain, flailing its claws at Graphite. He threw the dying, bleeding dog off him and jumped to his hooves; keeping a tight hold on his knife. The first dog spit the rifle from his jaws, shaking it off like it was nothing. The two remaining hounds were slowly converging to Graphite, the first dog paced faster to him, and the last one lay writhing on the floor with an open wound and a puddle of blood pooling around its torso.

The first dog sprinted from its position, eyes fixed on Graphite. The dog let out a loud bark that morphed into a growl as his open mouth neared Graphite’s leg. At the sound of the bark, the last two dogs went form a trump to a dash. Graphite took a swing at the first hound, but missed - the wild dog biting down on Graphite’s leg. The beast pulled, tugged, and swung his head around trying to tear through the flesh and bone. The violent shaking threw off Graphite’s aim as he tried to stab the knife into the attacker - then the last two dogs jumped for Graphite.

He swung his unarmed hoof aimlessly in the direction of the dogs, managing to smack one in its head.The other dog sunk its teeth into his duster and started to pull it back. The dog was strong enough to pull him back enough to release the first dog’s bite around his leg - but it dragged him down to the ground. The dog tugged his duster back, bringing Graphite along with it. The lace keeping the duster secured to Graphite was now being laced around his neck and cutting off his breathing. The first dog was now snarling back at the hound dragging Graphite, but it didn’t stop it.

The air was starting to lessen in his lungs, but with the last bit of his willpower, he grabbed the knife with his magic and flung it backwards as powerful as he could send it. Graphite winced as the air was leaving him, but then a disturbing cracking noise splattered out from behind him. The dragging stopped; his duster loosened up and flopped to the floor along with a louder thud. Graphite looked back, seeing the knife had traveled straight into the head of the wild dog and broke its skull open. The first dog regained its hold of Graphite’s leg and was now dragging him in the opposite direction.

Graphite slammed his hoof down on the ground with anger - and also trying to grab a hold of something along the ground. Graphite ground his teeth, and stared straight into the eyes of the animal. He focused on the glowing red eyes of the killer; the deep red eyes like a crimson blood had soaked the surface of the sun. Another burst of willpower grabbed the knife from the dead dog’s head - pulling it out of the frothy mix of blood and brains. He used the full distance from the dead dog to the live one to chuck the blade straight at the beast’s head - but there was one more dog still lurking, waiting for its time to strike.

It dug its jaws down into the armour of his steel gauntlets - causing the flying knife to veer off and into the wooden frames around the building. The plates stopped the teeth from sinking into his skin, but the pressure was still unbearable. The mindless tugging and rattling of the dog’s raging bite made the bite worse. He pounded the head of hound repeatedly, screaming and yelling as his hoof sent blow after blow at the head of the dog - but it did nothing to stop it. The first hound ripped a thread of skin, sending a tight rip down through his leg. Graphite screamed in pain from the tear. His free leg flinched, knocking the beast in its jaw with his knee. It was a powerful enough blow to knock the dog loose, giving Graphite just a split-second to kick the dog - once again - in the head.

The wild hound recoiled with pain, whimpering like a scared puppy. Graphite gave one more hard jab to the dog on his arm, knocking the thing out with a high pitched woof. He peeled the the dog’s mouth from his gauntlet, slowly and painfully standing to his hooves. As he stood, a sharp burn shot up his leg - causing him to yell in pain. Blood was gushing from the tear in his leg, a sliver of flesh was hanging down as the blood flowed down. Graphite gripped his leg, trying to keep the blood from flowing - but the first dog was still ready to fight.

The dog’s jaw seemed loose from the blow; it was hanging down and the drool was starting to leak out even more. It was slumping over in its walk, it was ready to fall but it wasn’t going to. Graphite had a similar trudge, limping along with his bleeding leg elevated. The hound came charging, reaching Graphite, and taking a swipe at his chest. The claws scratched the steel and left a clear make across it,but Graphite shifted his weight right, knocking the dog to its side. It tried to get up, unable to get a footing. Graphite limped his way to the dog’s body, pulling his knife from the building frame. The dog’s eyes were still red with rage, it gnashed its teeth, growling viciously at him. Graphite held the blade in a levitation, his eyes were just as infilled with rage as the dog’s. He brought the knife up and down with killer speed - but the dog leaped up just as he did. The knife hit the dog in the chest, but he was already midair and nothing could stop him from tackling Graphite. Graphite was pushed back down, the dog’s mouth was trying to bite and tear away at him, but he kept it back with all the strength left in his hooves. The dog’s mouth was right over Graphite’s horn, the saliva and hot breaths of air surrounding it. He gave some leeway, letting the dog fall forward before pushing it back up and running his horn through the hound’s neck. The dog wasn’t able to finish its woof, interrupted by the horn in its throat; it gagged and squealed, trying to produce a noise to express its pain, but Graphite ripped it out, tossing the dog to floor.

Graphite was panting and bleeding on the floor, he couldn’t move, he was too tired. He was trying his hardest to take in deeper breaths, but the thick air caused him to just cough it back out. His vision was blurring, he realized he was going to pass out. Graphite took another breath - and another cough - then remembered his first-aid kit. It was a small yellow case with three pink butterflies, the ministry of peace symbol on it. He was losing his vision progressively, but he had just enough strength and the will to flip open the case and grab a syringe. It was a tiny syringe, no bigger than two inches with the protective cap on. He used his levitation spell to pull off the cap of with a pop; the needle was just long enough to go through each layer of the skin. Graphite was beginning to get woozy, loosing his grip on the syringe - almost dropping it on the ground. He took a breath, holding it in; he gripped the syringe tighter, then rammed it into his thigh, just above the bite wound. He cringed, groaning badly from the tight prick. He pulled the needle back out of his leg and just tossed the empty case on the ground. Graphite’s vision began to clear up; the burning, searing pain in his leg was starting to numb.

As he looked down on his leg, the wound was healing right before his eyes. He had seen some ponies use it before, but it still amazed him - how did the magical potions inside do that? The flesh molded back into its right place, the skin and muscle rebuilt themselves almost instantaneously. The blood clot itself and stopped the bleeding just as fast as the skin healed. The pain eased away, as his vision improved. The pain had almost completely left him, but his leg still felt a bit locked up.

Graphite rolled over, pushing himself up to his hooves. He got up, but stumbled as he got on his legs. His knee was hard to bend, and his leg was numb from the sedative in the potion. The four hell hounds were all lying on the floor around Graphite. The first one seemed to be still alive, even with the hole deep in its neck, as its eyes were still glowing a dim red; the second one was just opposite to the first, the big crevice in its head was still pouring out blood; the third dog was knocked out to the right of the first, its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing; the last was just to the left of the first, it had just died after bleeding out for the last few moments.

They all laid in a group, all in a cross formation around Graphite who stood in the middle of this dying intersection. The one thing on Graphite’s mind - “I need a nap.” There were two apartment buildings to choose from, each with ten rooms to pick and decide. He headed for the apartment just in front of him since it was closer. He trotted towards the staircase with his hind leg still elevated. He struggled up the stairs, only on three legs to get up a flight of old, creaky stairs. Graphite kept a steady hoof on the rails, the splinters sticking against the glove of his gauntlet. He made it to the first floor, starting to drag himself along the rails of the wooden porch. There was one room at the end of the walkway; the door was wooden and molded, the termites seemed to have gotten to it. The window next to the door was just one panel of clear glass attached around a cheap wooden frame - that one panel had a large crack in the corner. He slide along the rail to get to the door; his coordination was shot due to his exhaustion, so he just pushed the door open with a blunt nudge.

The door was already loose and unlocked. The inside of the apartment was run-down, murky, and abandoned. There were two twin sized beds laying against the back wall; between them was an old side table with one drawer and a small place to stick things underneath; the wallpaper was a gaudy floral design with pink petaled flowers and a yellow background, it already started to peel off; the bathroom was just aside the beds; but Graphite rather not check out a two hundred year old, grungy bathroom at this late hour. The ceiling was ridden with mildew, and growing around the plastic chandelier above; the floor below was a dirty red carpet that had knots and stains all across it; the beds were just as stained - if not worse. There was an awful red stain on both sheets of the beds; but the one on the left seemed to have a smaller one, so Graphite went ahead and invited himself to that bed.

He jumped into the bed, grabbed the flat pillow, and brought it under his head. A cloud of dust plumed out the pillow case; Graphite didn’t notice, his eyes were already closed and his major exhaustion brought him to sleep. The cold, thick air of the fog plumed into the room through the crack in the window and the wide open door beside it. It cooled the room down to a nice even temperature, the breeze flowed softly through the room, blowing against the dust bunnies across the aisle. It was the perfect temperature for an afternoon nap.

Chapter 5: Next in Line

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A trumpet played loudly outside, causing Graphite to open his eyes. He was in the barracks, in which he had spent the past few weeks. He was lying in bed, unable to wake up from last night’s overhaul. They did an extra five laps around the track then another run around the obstacle course. He didn’t want to get out of bed, but the weeks of discipline training said otherwise. His body was too burdened with exhaustion to leave the bed, but his mind was yelling at him, “Get up you lazy sack of shit!” He knew the drill sergeant was going to scream that anyways. Eventually, it was down to mind over matter, and Graphite came off the bed almost unconscionably.

For several weeks, they had been doing a lot of exercises to build up their physical strength and endurance. It wasn’t easy for him, nor any pony else. Each morning began with a jog around the camp, followed by other exercises. Most of the time, they were made to do a series of push-ups, pull-ups, jumping jacks, more push-ups, and so on.

This day was going to be special. After all that hard work, they are finally going to be taught how to use a rifle and a battle-saddle. Graphite thought of this as he got out of his bed and made it, then stood in front of it like the rest of the cadets in the room.

As always, sergeant Typhoon came to inspect their rooms and lead them through their training for the day. He came through the door, per usual - slamming it open. Sergeant walked down through the barracks and checking everyone's gear as he made his morning speech.

“Good morning, bastards! I don’t have to tell you how special this day is. Apparently some degenerate up above thinks that you’re fit enough to move on to the rifle training. If it’d be up to me, I’d send you all back through another month of physical exercise drills!” He made it to the end of the barracks and turned around, eyes still locked forward and away from any of the cadets, “I want to see you all standing outside in the ditch in five - is that clear?”

“Yes sir!” Everypony replied aloud and Typhoon walked through the door, slamming it behind him.

Everyone in the barracks started to dress and get ready with the required efficiency, which was as fast as possible. They dressed and filed out of the barracks as quick as can be. They were lined in single file, marching behind one another towards the trail where Typhoon explains the schedule for the day. The schedule never changed, “You’re going to run the track a few times, do some push-ups, run the obstacle course, then run back to the barracks,” filled with the usual offensive insults and shouts of ‘encouragement.’ Lucky for every cadet, it was the first day of rifle training - but Graphite didn’t expect much difference from the sergeant’s side.

The row of cadets lined along the trail just as usual and stood in attention -- just as usual. Sergeant Typhoon walked to the middle of the line and shouted at the cadets, “Here’s the schedule - I’m only going to say this once, so you better have that shit cleaned out your ears before I tell you: we are to report to the firing range; there, I will explain to you everything you need to know about the gun we will be firing; we’ll do some target practice; move on for weapon’s course; then we finish off with your favourite - ten laps around the track. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir!” Exclaimed every cadet.

“Great! Now let’s move!” Typhoon glided to the front of the group, just ahead of the first pony, and lead them down to the firing range in a march. Typhoon split the file into two equal groups of stallions, then into three single file lines behind him. They marched in tune to a beat of Typhoon’s shouts of ‘left-left-left-right-left!’ They held this same march down for about a good distance before finally reaching the firing range at the end of the boot camp.

Typhoon merged the three lines back into one with a simple direction of his hoof. He pointed to the lines, directing them back into that single line they started in. They all crossed the dirt trails leading into the firing ranges.

The firing range consisted of a long field with several targets lined up in the field. A mechanism was made to make them all pop up when necessary. That mechanism was being controlled by another stallion working in small, enclosed room. There were several small ‘booths’ at one end of the field. They were simply spots where the ground was cleared from any grass before the rest of the range, collared off by a few logs. Behind the rage was a small booth with a watchtower next to it. A pony dressed similarly to the Drill Sergeant watched over the cadets - probably judging their weapons skill.

“Welcome to my firing range. Yes, it’s my firing range, so you will listen to every word I say! I have not lost a single scumbag on my firing line, and I will not lose one today! Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good! Now pick up a battle-saddle, a rifle and some ammo from the booth over there. Then pick a spot on the range and we’ll get to work!”

All of the cadets made their way to the kiosks, where the rifles and ammunition were. Each of the ponies ahead of Graphite got a set of battle-saddles. There was a poster on the side of the kiosk on how to put it on and operate it, so everyone simply put theirs on as soon as they got them. They also received a rifle which was placed into the battle-saddle and a pack of ammo.

“Aww! I can’t wait to fire a rifle! I’ve been sick of this useless jogs around the track over and over!” Graphite suddenly heard a familiar voice with a Bucklyn accent to it from behind him. Without a doubt - it was Spotty. He was standing right behind him in line with a big grin on his face and had excitement bouncing in every one of his words. He seemed a bit jittery, slightly impatient, and eager to get to the kiosk.

“I know how you feel,” Graphite responded with a fake smile, uncomfortable from Spotty’s bounding excitement, “But you do know that this doesn’t mean that it’s all over, right?”

“Gee, Graphite don’t be such a party pooper, I know that this ain’t the end of this. We’re all still going to have to do those stupid exercises. Still, this is something to lift up your spirits, ain’t it?”

“I-i think so...” Graphite said and looked down a bit.

“Ah, I see-” Spotty said with a small grin on his face, “You’re just worried about how you’ll do and that’s killing your mood,” He smiled and patted Graphite on the back, “I can give you my word, Graphite, you’ll do fine.”

“Yeah, thanks,” that was probably all Graphite needed - a pat on the back. It lifted his head up, but he was still pestered to be stuck in line. He turned his head back around and resumed his wait.

After waiting in line for a bit it, was Graphite’s turn to receive his gear. When he arrived at the booth, a rifle was waiting for him along with a few small metal boxes of ammunition.

It was a long, wooden rifle, with only the the barrel and iron sights being made of metal; there was a small pistol grip for the handle, that was then improved with a pattern cut wood panel on the sides of the handle; there was another one of these wooden grips along the hoof guards of the gun, going up until the wood ended and the barrel continued. Graphite was puzzled, his rifle wasn’t given in a battle-saddle like all the other cadets.

“Where’s my battle-saddle?” He asked, staring at his new rifle.

“Ya see, you’re a unicorn,” Answered the pony in a thick, country accent. He was a brightly yellowed colored earth pony with a tan mane. He was wearing the same tan uniform with a black MP band, “Ya can use yer horn to levitate, fire, and reload the rifle - so ya’, don’t need one.”

Graphite gave the rifle a worried look, “I hope that it’ll work.”

“Sure it will. Just keep your mind on the rifle... or was it the target?” The MP wondered, “Anyway, you should know it better than me. I ain’t one o’ ya’ magic ponies.”

Graphite sighed and took the rifle and ammo. He trotted over to his booth and awaited for further commands from the Sergeant.

“Stand still and aim at the target in front of you. If you hit one in the white zone, it means you can’t shoot for shit. If you hit one in the black zone, you’re doing alright. If you should hit the small red circle in the center of the target - which I doubt that any of you pawn scum will do - you’ve won a surprise!”

All of the earth ponies and pegasuses tried to aim as best as they could - with little luck. Graphite looked over at the other unicorn cadets. It seemed that some of them understood how to use the sights on the top of the gun.

Graphite copied them, trying to do the same. He stood still and loaded the rifle with the help of his levitation spell. He aimed down the sights just like the other unicorn ponies did.

Graphite started to breathe slower and concentrated on the target in front of him. When he lined up his sights with the target he squeezed the trigger and a shot rang out. The shot scared him, making him twitch a bit. He couldn’t see where the shot had landed, it was quite a distance between him and the target. Graphite pulled off another shot. With each shot he could concentrate less on the rifle and more on the target, the muscle memory was slowly taking over. He repeated the process until he heard a ‘click’ when he squeezed the trigger. He then took out the empty magazine and sat the rifle down on the pad in front of him.

“Sergeant, I’m all out!” He shouted.

“Well whoop-de-fucking-doo private twinkle hooves. Let me see how bad you failed!” Sergeant Typhoon came over to his booth and looked down on the target with a pair of binoculars, “Holy crap, looks like we have ourselves a killer!” He announced before a slight pause, “I guess that you may be wondering what’s your surprise then, eh, cadet?” He gave a quick nod over to the pony at the booth.

“Yes sir!” Graphite replied, a bit eager to see what his surprise was.

“We have a scoped rifle available for use today; let’s see how many long range targets you can hit.”

The yellow earth pony from the booth came over with another pack of ammo and a rifle similar to the one which Graphite had just used only this one had a metal tube on it - a scope. The yellow pony moved his hoof down to the electric panel below him, making the target to slide backwards even further down the range.

Graphite’s eyes widen as he saw his target move further and further away; he knew they were going to make him hit that target.

“Let’s just see how good with that rifle you really are, cadet...” Typhoon said in a more undertone voice than his usual and staring back down his pair of binoculars.

The target finally stopped, it was now at four hundred metres. Graphite let out a sigh, bring his rifle back into firing position. He focused his sight down the aperture of the scope, lining the crosshairs to the middle of the target.

“Whenever you’re ready, cadet,” Typhoon added.

Graphite took in a deep breath and held it, keeping his sway down as he focused deeply at the target ahead. He pulled the trigger, letting out that similar bang sound he’s come to known so easily. The bullet flew down range and disappeared near the target; he thought he missed his mark. He pulled his view out of the scope and looked up at Sergeant Typhoon.

His eyes were squinted, trying to keep out the bright light of the sun, “Did I hit it?” Graphite questioned.

Typhoon brought down his binoculars, and was keeping his eyes on that target when he replied, “Yep, you hit it right on the mark, private.”

Graphite had to keep himself down to prevent him from dancing a jig, but then Typhoon brought his spirits down again; as was his job, “Can you do it again?” He asked with an unexcited tone.

Graphite shook his head, breathing back out, “Yes sir.”

Typhoon brought his binoculars up again, and Graphite looked back down the scope once more. His sights were already centred with the target, all he had to do was pull the trigger again - but Graphite didn’t see Typhoon’s next order to the booth pony. Graphite held his breath once more, but the target started moving left. He blew out his breath of air in a sigh of annoyance, still keeping his eyes on the target as it moved left and right slowly.

“Go ahead, cadet; fire when ready,” Typhoon told Graphite. He couldn’t see him, but he could bet his next week lunch that the drill sergeant had an evil smirk on his face as he said that.

Graphite focused all his thoughts on the target, following it with his scope almost perfectly. All his focused was directed on that target; he took in a deep breath, stopping even breathing from interrupting his focus. Time seemed to slow down around him, the target moving ever slower. He pinpointed the very middle of the mark. Without hesitation, or further pause, he fired his rifle; breaking his focus and resuming time back to normal. He couldn’t follow the bullet’s trail, the sun in his eyes. There wasn’t a sound except for the wind rushing through the air.

“Damn...” Typhoon whispered, “You hit your mark... right in the same place...” Typhoon was eerily astonished, he didn’t even take the time to yell out his sentence or throw in an insult.

Graphite was just as stunned, he didn’t expect such a shoot could be possible, “Did I really, sir?”

Typhoon knelt down to Graphite’s level, sticking his binoculars in front of his eyes, “You heard me - look for yourself.”

Graphite gripped the side of the binoculars and stared down the sights. The target had one hole in the centre of the red ring; he couldn’t tell, but there was just a slight scrape along the edge of the hole showing the second bullet had grazed right through the bullet hole.

“I don’t know how you did, but you did it,” Typhoon added, still in awe, “What’s your name cadet?”

“Graphite, sir.”

“Private Graphite, I’m going to have you report to the next area over for Sharpshooter training.”

“Sharpshooter training, sir?”

Typhoon extended a hoof to help Graphite up. Graphite accepted, being pulled up instantly by the drill sergeant, “Yes, deaf-ass; sharpshooter training. The range for that is down the next trail. You’re to report there immediately for your new training regiment!” He lead Graphite off with a point in the direction of the sharpshooter’s range, which was another jog down the trail, “Double-time, Private Graphite.”

“Yes sir!” Graphite responded, with a salute.

He shifted around, starting his jog down the next trail. The trail was just as rough and rocky as the one getting here. The rocks pressed against his hooves, crumbling under the weight. He started to sweat, wiping some drops off his forehead, the sun was beating down hard. It was brighter than he remembered, and as he neared the next range, it only grew brighter. It soon blinded him too the point where he could see nothing but white.

The sun was beating still, continuing to pain Graphite with it’s brightness. He sat up from the bed, squinting his eyes and blocking the rays with his hoof. The sun was shining through the the tainted, cracked window and seemed to be attracting only to Graphite’s eyes. He used his other hoof to wipe his eyes, groaning from the abrupt awakening. He looked on either side of the bed, and on either side of the bed were some blood stains that really sent Graphite a post-apocalyptic ‘good morning!’He slid over to the left, hopping off the bed. The bed made a very loud, broken squeak as he leaped off; the loud whine was terrible to hear while still half asleep. He cringed, flopping his ears to stop the ringing. He stretched out his arms and back, his joints cracking from the stress; popping his spine back into place, “Ow...” he said to no pony, his lower back getting stiff. He pulled himself back, blowing out a sigh before he hit the road again. The sun beam continued to filter into the room, flushing out all the stains on the walls and all the marks on the floor. The blots on the floor were a unhealthy red, the mildew on the ceiling was still festering around the chandelier, and the mold on the walls still seemed to be growing.

The bathroom still seemed like an unruly place to go, but Graphite couldn’t pass up the curiosity; the light was on his side now, so it made him feel just a little safer. He moved in slow and carefully, keeping his eyes fixed on the door to the bathroom - keeping in mind whatever may pop out. He stopped at the doorway, just peeking his head through to check the bathroom. He slowly inched more and more into the shadows, he had a strong urge to swipe his knife into the darkness just for reassurance. Graphite didn’t want his knife to be swallowed up by the beast that could lurk within -- or drop it in the toilet -- but he kept his concentration on it as his head finally came by far enough to see the bathroom. What Graphite was truly a surprise - it was just a normal bathroom. The sink was lying against the wall, a mirror just above it; a toilet just next to the sink, somewhat clean; the tub ahead was yellow with lime stains and the shower head that came with it was rusted down to the core. The sink had a poorly made formica that didn’t seem to fit the sink very well. The faucet was rusted just as bad as the shower head, the handles too. He fiddled the handles, the rust had jammed them to the point where they couldn’t even budge. He pulled on them again, breaking the right handle right off the sink. He dropped the handle into the dirty sink, looking into the fogged mirror.

In the corner of the reflection lied a small metal box. He looked over to the edge of the sink to inspect it. It was covered in dust, yet it hadn’t rusted over all these year’s. Graphite used his magic to shake off the dust and take a closer look. He brought the box up to his eye and opened it. Inside lied a chromed lighter, it was still polish and unrested - like it hadn’t even been touched. Graphite took it out of the metal box and examined it. On the front there was an engraving of a thunderbolt and a set of wings behind it, below was an inscription - “Equestria’s Finest”.

Graphite knew that saying from somewhere; it was the motto of the wonderbolts. They truly were the Equestria’s greatest fliers. He remembered their frequent aid in the war effort; often doing fly-bys as the ground troops stormed the fortifications of the Zebras. Sometimes they would fly their strafing runs so low that the ground troops could take a good look on their faces before they took off again. Like most pegasi, they were daredevils, sometimes not even realizing how close they had been to their deaths. The fires from their fly-byes rose high enough to touch the clouds, and the wonderbolts would just fly through like it was nothing; they took to their work as if it were a performance. Thinking of the fires got his train of thought back unto the lighter.

Graphite decided to test out the lighter the best way he knew how; he took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He flipped the cap of the lighter, coming open with a clinging sound. The flame was burning, so he lit up his cigarette and then closed the cap again and put it on the inside of his black duster, right next to his wallet.

With the cigarette in his mouth he went outside on the wooden walkway and looked over the neighborhood. The four dogs were still down in the courtyard, roasting under the sun. The smell was almost non-existent. Either then baking under the hot sun or their radiated bodies, the decaying dogs didn’t seem to produce a scent from their bodies. Graphite walked over to the railings along the edge of the porch, resting his hooves on it. He continued looking over the bodies and the neighboring building ahead. He puffed a cloud of smoke, enjoying the taste of his Canterfield cigarettes. With no food for breakfast and no water to hydrate, all he could do was enjoy his cigarette. He blew another puff of smoke, taking a look down at his necklace. He looked at the way the stone shined under the bright sun - he couldn’t help but to be reminded of Adan and Turquoise. Graphite looked back up, staring over the area once more. He kept his cigarette going enjoying the cheap taste of his only meal.

Chapter 6: Children Go Where I Send Thee

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Graphite finished his cigarette, tossing it on the ground below, and was ready to move on. He walked down the stairs and back into the yard, still a bit groggy. From there, he moved on back to the street. It seemed that the fog which covered everything yesterday had gone, it was completely clear outside; so he took a better look at the neighborhood.

The small two story flat houses had been replaced by larger, five story brick houses; they also had taken on the force of the blast and the edge of time. A lot of rubble littered the streets. Shattered bricks, planks, and sometimes even glass littered the across the pavement. The wooden frames around the buildings still remained, still rotted through and eaten by termites.

As Graphite walked through the neighborhood he noticed another thing - skeletons. The ponies seemed to have tried to run away from where he was heading to. Some of them had fallen right in the middle of the street. Others were bunched up in corners as if trying to find safety in numbers from death. They died running away from death, their lifeless bodies dropped to the floor fully sprint trying to avoid the blast. The ponies in the corner seemed like they were still cowering, the wind was blowing through their ribs, shaking their bones like they were shaking with fear.

Graphite was brought down by seeing all of this, his mind started to make up questions. He was supposed to be a hero, he was supposed to save Equestria and stop this from happening. But even if he hadn’t been frozen up when all of this happened, how could he stop it? He was just an ordinary pony, he couldn’t stop a storm of balefire. By the looks of it - even Celestia and Luna couldn’t do it. ‘What even had happened to the goddesses?’ He asked himself, ‘Where were they when all of this happened?’ He asked again, ‘Why use six innocent ponies to defend Equestria - what kind of idea was that?’ The questions he made up, he couldn’t find answers to. His mind was swarming with these unwanted questions; only the matter of almost tripping over the shattered bricks could restore his focus back on the road.

The road didn’t seem any more of an appealing place didn’t it did yesterday in the fog. There were still unending cracks lining the entirety of the road; the pavement had turned to gravel, loose rocks and bits of road were sprinkled all over the road; the sides of the road were just as dead as before, the grass was burnt down to the dirt and then the dirt was burnt down to dust. The border-towns of Buckago were very spaced out, nothing like the downtown he knew. He’s never downtown before, but he could see the skyline in the distance, and the large skyscrapers that poked holes in the sky. The buildings almost blocked the sun; the rays could only squeeze through the gaps between buildings and focus their beams in small dots over the landscape. The road he traveled led directly downtown, and he had nowhere else to go.

His duster flowed in the breeze as he walked, catching the drift eastward. The next buildings ahead were about another jog down the trail - like he was heading to the range. He fixed his rifle sling at the thought, fixing it back around his shoulder. The move downtown seemed like a long one, maybe once he reached midtown he could search the restaurants that always filled the majority of the town. He was nearing the next building. It was a corner building, one that curved around with the sidewalk. The lower story of the building had wooden walls instead of brick, maybe a general store was built in to the building. He decided, “Why wait until midtown to search for supplies?” So he picked up his pace to reach the building in time to keep up with the day.

There were two corner buildings on either side of the road; one was a pharmacy, the other a hat store. The hat store certainly had supplies if Graphite needed a new summer bonnet to go with his duster. He didn’t need anymore hats than he already had -- one being enough for a single stallion -- so the pharmacy was his best bet for useful supplies. The sign reading ‘Pharmacy’ that usual hangs above the entrance was faded down to the point the red letters were just as pale as the white background. He took a step forward towards the store, spotting a light brown disk sitting on the street. Graphite leaned in, a bit intrigued as to what it could be. The disk made a high pitch tone, Graphite flinching at the sudden noise.

‘Beep, beep, beep-’

His mind knew immediately what that noise was - he had heard before while in service - a fragmentation mine. He dived down on the street, covering his head with his hooves just as the mine went off. There was a loud boom, followed by the screeching sound of fragments whizzing passed his head. The smoke and debris shot upward, the shockwave sending a small wave through Graphite’s duster and blowing through his mane. A small cloud of dirt and dust puffed up, some small rocks pounded against his steel armour. The explosion almost blew off his leg, but he had reacted just fast enough to avoid getting hurt - but his ears were still ringing.

A loud yell came from the inside of the pharmacy. That yell was followed by another and another similar shout. Graphite looked up when the gunfire started pouring out the pharmacy. He ducked again, bullets whooshed over his head, scraping his ringing ears with their loud noises. He looked around, there was a big blue mail dropbox across the road of the pharmacy. He picked himself up and sprinted full speed towards his only means of cover.

The bullets continued to fire out the first story of the building, flying passed his head and cutting through his duster. He slid just as he neared the mailbox, pressing his back against the metal case of the mailbox. The bullets seemed to have no sense of aim or direction, they just shot anywhere and everywhere. He could hear the bullets poking through the front of the mailbox, just stopping as the envelopes inside caught hold of the bullets.

He pulled his rifle to his front, still holding his head down from the incoming barrage of bullets. They kept coming without pause and still just firing everywhere; he could just hear the yells and battle cries under the bangs of gunfire. He couldn’t move, he was locked down under the fire and fear of being cut down by it. One bullet managed to cut through the mailbox on both sides, just going right passed Graphite’s ear.

“F-fuck!” He screamed, knowing that bullet was just inches from being in his skull.

His back slid down the side of the box, his body slumping over slowly. He dropped his rifle, covering his head with both his hooves. He bent down as low as he could, until the bullets all stopped at once with a series of faint clicks from inside the pharmacy. Graphite opened his eyes, looking over the side of the mailbox.

Just as he head moved around the edge of the box, he heard the loud mumbles of what seemed like foals from the building.

“Damn! I’m out of bullets!”

“-Me too!”

“-Me three!”

Graphite was all but confused, his attackers were a group of small colts and fillies, one not even old enough to have a cutie mark. He could see one, the tallest one, had some kind of raider armour on. The torso consisted of a stained, leather undershirt and an empty bandoleer. The sleeves were armed separately by pieces of cloth and leather wrapped around them. The knees were protected by what looked like knee pads which were used for when ponies went rollerblading. His mane was an unkempt mess of red spikes and frazzled hairs. His coat was a dirty peach colour - it looked more brown than peach though.

Next to him stood a younger, golden yellow coloured unicorn mare with a burnett mane and was wearing a strange, blue jumpsuit. The jumpsuit had yellow lines going down the arms, legs, and down the middle of the front and back. It had some armored pads and a belt with mag pouches attached around it; overall, the mare and her clothes looked cleaner than the ones of the colt next to her.

Next to the filly was an even younger filly, just a foal. She had a black, cast iron pot on her head to use as a helmet; it went over her eyes. She seemed a bit lost, unable to see anything. Her mane was sticking out for under the pan, it was a long, dark red colour that contrasted her bright red coat colour. It was easy to tell she was only a foal since she didn’t even have a cutie mark yet; just a blank flank - with a gun in held in her mouth.

“Hey, you think we could call a cease fire?” Graphite shouted from behind the mailbox.

“No! You’ll die like the rest of the slaver scum that have came looking for us!” The colt shouted back.

“A slaver... what?” Graphite replied with a bit of irritation in his voice.

“You heard me-” The colt was suddenly interrupted, by the mare next to him. She was whispering something into his ear. The colt then looked over at Graphite’s direction, “Alright, we might let you live if you get up slowly and let us take a look at you!”

For Graphite there was no other way but to obey the colt’s orders - he couldn’t sit behind that mailbox forever. Graphite slowly got up from behind the mailbox and stood up on his hooves again. The ponies in the pharmacy window took a look at his armor and the black duster. They have never seen armour like that before, Graphite could see it in the looks on their faces.

“Well, you don’t look like a slaver. What the fuck are you doing out here then?”

“I’m heading to downtown Buckago-”

“Downtown? That place is a warzone!” The mare intruded on Graphite.

“War zone? But how- why-?”

“‘Cause the whole place is filled with raiders and slavers. If you’re not going to get killed for scrap, you’ll get enslaved and if non of them get you you’ll end up as some monster’s chow!”

“What? Repeat that again!”

“I said the whole place is crawling with slavers and raid- just come over here... but slowly!” She was getting very impatient, swinging her hoof to get him over.

The kids didn’t seem to be too intimidating, but they still had their guns, so he did as they ordered and came over to them slowly.

The filly dropped her gun on the floor, she was still a bit heated though, “There’s raiders, slavers, and monsters all over downtown Buckago - so I don’t know why you would want to go there,” She put an emphasis on each thing downtown, telling Graphite just how dangerous it was to go out there.

The colt pushed her aside and asked his own question, getting right in Graphite’s face, “Why do you want to head downtown?”

“I’m... just wandering, I never got to see downtown before-”

“-And you’re not going to,” the filly interrupted once again. It seemed that this pony had no sense of manners, “Any pony that goes downtown won’t stand a chance without some-”

“-There’s nothing out there!” Now the colt decided to cut in, yelling even though Graphite was right next to him.

“Is that why all of you are here in this... um, pharmacy?”

“We got nowhere else to go,” A much quieter and softer voice came from below him. He looked down, seeing the little foal to his left. She told him this while looking at his knees, the pot was still cutting of her sight.

“Shouldn’t you all be with your parents?”

“Our parents were killed back at the slave camp,” The older filly now had an attitude, getting even more irritated by Graphite’s questions.

“Slave camp?” Graphite couldn’t help but ask another question, he needed to know why these kids would do this.

“We all were. All of us were trapped in the slave camps north of here,” The colt’s voice lowered, his yelling stopped when he told Graphite that. He still seemed angry, but like a bad memory was rolling back into his mind, his eyes had that look of distress.

“We won’t go into that right now, those bitches are still after us!” The colt added.

Still confused, Graphite asked another question, “You mean the slavers?”

The colt’s distress turned back into a temper, “No, dumb ass, I mean the cops - of course I mean the slavers!”

He fixed his gun over his shoulder and stormed to the back of the building, heading through the back door leading to the inventory room. The filly and the foal stayed put, watching as the colt ran through, making a loud stomp with each step.

“Don’t mind, Rotten; he’s just a rotten bastard,” The filly butted in.

“He seems like it,” Graphite chuckled.

“But, he’s still our only leader,” At the last moment, the filly cut back in, reassuring Graphite that Rotten was still of use.

Graphite still didn’t enjoy the colt’s irritating attitude; it was that teenage, cocksure attitude - like nothing or no one would get in his way - he was leader because he brought everyone else down by force. This band of delinquents didn’t seem like the best crowd to be around, but one stallion against a group of slavers wasn’t going to end well. The kids didn’t have any sense of proper fighting skills, but they did have numbers - maybe there was something Graphite could do for them for sparing his life. Maybe he could teach them how to defend themselves against the slavers and make sure they don’t come back.

Graphite was going to take the chance, all he needed to do was work it out with Rotten. He finished the plan out in his head, then turned over to the filly and the foal, “You think I could make a proposal with Rotten?”

“What kind of proposal?” The filly stepped around to Graphite, bringing back her attention away from the foal.

“You mean like a wedding?” The little foal wondered with a childish amount of glee.

Graphite smiled, there was nothing like the innocence of a child to bring joy in such a joyless place, “I mean like a deal, little one.”

She just replied with a simple, “Oh.”

The filly had a small smile, but lost when she asked, “What did you want to propose...”

“...Graphite.”

“Graphite, hm - oh - I’m Mayflower by the way, and that’s Hot-Sauce,” She pointed down to the foal that eager young foal beside her, “So, what did you want?”

“Well I was wondering - I know a good amount about fighting - maybe I could show you kids a thing or two to defend yourselves.”

“I guess that Rotten would agree to that -- I think it’s a great idea. He probably went back to his position at top of the building,” Mayflower pointed towards the back door Rotten charged through earlier, “I’d come along, but I have to stay down here and watch the roads.”

Graphite headed towards the door in his usual trot, but stopped for a moment and looked back, “Thanks,” he said, continuing to the back door.

The pharmacy didn’t resemble one anymore; the shelves were all pushed against the windows to act as cover, they completely cleared the place of all its prescriptions and potions, the counter now had a row of half-full sandbags and some empty shell casings littered around it. He crossed through the counter, kicking the shells on the floor with his hooves. They clanged and pinged against his hoof and each other, reflecting the flickering ceiling lights above. He marched on through the door and into the back room, there he saw a group of four little foals - no older than seven or eight. There were just sitting in the corner, playing with a small, purple doll. It had dark violet hair with pink streaks running down it, it had black button eyes and a dark blue thread to hold it in the head, the tail was a matching purple and pink as the mane, and there was a pink sparkle on its flank with five white sparkles around for its cutie mark. The filly holding on to it pulled the string on the back, making the doll say something like, “Reading time is fun time!” Another pull would make it say, “Let’s play homework!” Graphite knew instantly that it was a doll of Twilight Sparkle, the leader of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences.

The foals were sitting on a blanket which looked like it hadn’t been washed in the last twenty years. They sat on it either way, sitting around in a circle playing together with the doll, passing it around and giggling. They took a great joy in what seemed to be their only toy. Their only source of light to see who had the doll came from a small, dimly lit lamp in next to their blanket and a fire escape in the roof.

Graphite took a step forward, stepping on a shard of glass - startling the kids. They all gasped, one made a quick yelp, but their combined noise had Rotten jump down the fire escape. He had his gun pointed directly ahead of him and ready to defend the kids; Graphite jumped, almost going for his gun as well. Rotten took a few steps forward, coming into the light of the lamp and finally seeing that the intruder was just Graphite, “‘The fuck are you doing back here? Did Mayflower let you in?” He questioned Graphite with his usual tempered yell.

“Yes, she let me back here - I just wanted to make a proposal with you,” Graphite answered. Rotten was getting on his last nerve, but he was keeping his cool for the most part.

“What, you mean like a wedding?”

“No, I mean I wanted to ask you for a deal.”

Rotten wrapped his gun behind him, heading for the door near Graphite, “Well why didn’t you just say so? What kind of deal did you mean?”

They both went back out to the main area of the pharmacy; Rotten walked up behind the counter and Graphite met him on the opposite side, “Look, I know you guys can defend yourselves - but you don’t really seem to know how to fight bac-”

“What are you saying? We can’t manage ourselves?” He whipped his gun back out, swaying and pointing it at Graphite, “I can shoot you in the ass right now and-”

Graphite leaped forward, grabbing the twerp by the collar on his armour and pinned him down against the counter with a hard slam, “I’d like to see you fucking try!” He kept his arm wedged behind his back - his gun slipped right out of his mouth - his face was pushed against the sandbags with Graphite’s elbow.

Mayflower and Hot-Sauce were outside over-watching the roads when they heard the commotion from inside the building. They both darted for the entrance, stopping to see Rotten’s face dug deep into the cloth of the sandbags on the counter. Hot-Sauce lifted the pot from her head by the handle to see why the stallion was hurting her rescuer. The four little foals in the back room also peeked their heads through to see what was going on.

Graphite ignored the watchers, keeping all his weight down on Rotten’s head, “There’s your first lesson! Don’t be too late to pull the trigger!” He pushed down again, sending another tight pain through Rotten’s arm and face.

“Fucki- let go o- of me-” Rotten was struggling and grunting, trying to escape Graphite’s grasp.

Graphite eased back, then pushed Rotten away and into the wall behind the counter. Rotten grabbed his arm and then seared in pain.

“Looks like he got you beat, Rotten,” Mayflower snickered while trotting inside the pharmacy.

“Very fucking funny- what the hell was that for?” He screamed at Graphite.

“To show you a lesson in real fighting,” Graphite said pointing his hoof right at Rotten with a cocksure smirk on his face, “I was going teach you guys how to fight in exchange for supplies.”

“No! I don’t need no damn lessons from you!” Rotten screeched, ricocheting away from the wall and back to Graphite’s space, “We got no supplies to give to you!”

“If you’re going to survive the next slaver attack, you’re going to need to know how to defend yourselves - you can’t just shoot everything that moves-”

“-I can, because it works-”

“-No, it doesn’t-”

The two ponies went back and forth with each other, squabbling over the petty deal. Hot-Sauce and Mayflower were standing aside along with the four foals standing at the back doorway still. They shouted back at one another, their mess of words mixed together in an indiscernible mesh of babble. Rotten’s rotten temper was boiling hotter and hotter, he was ready to through punches, until Mayflower finally stepped in, “Back the fuck off you two!” She screamed, pushing the two aside.

Rotten almost pushed Mayflower out of his way, but he knew her too long to do anything to hurt her - but he still glared down Graphite. Graphite stepped back as Mayflower pushed him away, fixing his chest plate and sweeping off the dust. The young mare kept Rotten back, pushing him back a ways to keep from a fight, “Calm down, Rotten!”

“Just let me get one punch in!” Rotten yapped, still struggling with Mayflower.

“You couldn’t even reach me you runt!” Graphite hounded back.

“Don’t tempt him, Graphite!” Mayflower interceded. She lost her concentration for just a second, but that was enough to let Rotten break through her push and charge Graphite.

Graphite got caught off guard, the colt tackled him to the floor. Graphite fell to the floor, his suit hitting the floor with a clang; he grabbed the colt’s sides and threw him to the floor.

‘BANG!’

A gunshot echoed about the pharmacy. The kids screamed and began to cower; Rotten and Graphite just stopped. Mayflower was holding a police revolver with her telekinesis spell, the short barrel was smoking, and there was a newly made bullet hole in the middle of the ceiling.

“Start fighting again and I start shooting again!” Mayflower demanded, “Now knock this shit off!”

The whimpers of the children were being carried out in the background, Graphite and Rotten didn’t move a muscle, “You may not agree with Graphite - but I do - and I think he can really help us...”

Rotten jumped up, trotting towards the back door. The foals saw him coming and ran back into the inventory room. Rotten didn’t speak a word, or even bother to give a glance back, he just stormed up the ladder and back to the roof. Graphite lied on the floor, breathing out a sigh of relief and annoyance.

“I’m not letting you off the hook either...” Mayflower called out to Graphite, walking to the back room - getting no glares from her either.

She stepped into the inventory room; the sounds of the ladder clanking with her hooves climbing up the ladder told Graphite she was going up to see Rotten. Graphite finally picked himself up, staring at the empty doorway in the back. He was alone again; he could hear Rotten and Mayflower yelling at each other from up on the roof, but Graphite was stuck on the first floor with himself. He looked to his left, where he had thrown Rotten, and saw something underneath the broken tiles. He slid over to the break in the floor, and moved aside the loose tiles.

Beneath the tiles, lying just underneath the floor, was an old, wooden crate. He lifted up another tile, but ended up lifting an entire section of tiles - it was a hidden under cropping in the floor. Graphite lifted up the rest of the covering, pushing it open and letting it fall down on the opposite side. He could see whole crates and boxes of supplies and ammo. There was a large, long shaped crate labeled, ‘Foods’. The two teens were still at each other’s throats on the ceiling - there was nothing to stop Graphite from taking their supplies and booking it before they even noticed.

There was everything he needed; munitions, food, water - all the necessities and more. Graphite could make it through here to downtown with no troubles or worries -- other than the raiders and monsters. He knelt down, reaching for the box of .308 cartridges, when he heard a faint voice of a little filly just to the left of him, “What are you doing?” She asked.

Graphite turned his head; he saw Hot-Sauce staring at him with her big purple eyes, like big, plump plums straight from the branch. Graphite looked back at the supplies beneath the floor, then back at Hot-Sauce and responded, “Um, nothing...”

He reached over for the hatch, swinging it back and slamming it close on the floor. He looked over at Hot-Sauce again, her childish innocence was in a loss as to what was going on. Graphite wasn’t quite sure either - he couldn’t believe he was going to steal all these kids’ only source of food. He heard someone’s hooves clanking down the ladder steps from the back room. Mayflower came down, she seemed very annoyed to say the least. She took in a deep breath, almost immediately calming her down, “Well, Rotten’s going to be sitting your training out, but the rest of us are still looking forward to it,” Mayflower announced.

Graphite played off the finding the supplies nonchalantly, “Alright, let’s get to it - now, where to start?” Graphite pondered, then a thought popped up in his mind, “Could you show me what weapons you’ve got? That way I could understand what to teach each of you.”

“Alright,” Mayflower said and walked over to where Graphite was standing. She lifted up the hatch where the supplies were and took out the food and ammunition supplies. It seemed they had enough ammo to spare. Underneath there was a weapons cache; most of the guns were wrapped in cellophane bags to prevent the dirt and dust from getting into the weapons.

“That’s a smart move,” Graphite noted as Mayflower was lifting out guns from the pit, “But you shouldn’t hide all of your stuff in one place. Imagine if some clever raider comes in and finds all of this lying in one spot. You’d probably never see that stuff again.”

“I guess so. We’ll find some new hiding spots tomorrow,” Mayflower then turned away from the guns for a bit, “Thank you again for the lesson,”

“No problem,” Graphite said and tilted his head, “Now, show me what guns you’ve got,” He requested and walked over to the small pile of guns which were lying on the floor.

They were pistols for the most part. Some Graphite recognized almost instantly. There was a small pistol, just like his except it was matted black rather than his silver plating. It was a .45 calibre just like his; the slide was smooth, with only a few notches at the end to use as grip; the handle itself was just like Graphite’s, the wood was a just a darker shade. There was also another pistol, an odd one, but Graphite could recall seeing that gun somewhere before. The grip was rounded at the bottom, and was entirely of wood; the receiver was strange, it seemed to act like more of a rifle’s than a pistol’s - the magazine was held forward the trigger rather than inside the grip, the ejection port slid back but there was no slide, and the barrel extended out quite a ways - there was also label on the side of the gun reading “10mm”.

“And we also have this,” Mayflower interrupted Graphite’s inspection of the guns.

Graphite rose up his eyes and looked at Mayflower. She was holding a very large, dark sapphire rocket launcher - the size of a colt; it was a menagerie of long tubes, pipes, and metal plates that were clobbered together to make a beast of war; there was one large magazine at the top of the gun, it was a large panel that encased the tube of rockets; there was a shoulder guard and two metal handles that were used to keep the giant block of rockets up and pointed at the enemy. Graphite was in a general daze, he had never imagined a weapon so big could be used by one pony. An even bigger mystery was how this pack of foals and fillies found such a weapon.

“Where did you ever find this?” Graphite wondered with great surprise.

“I wouldn’t be lying if I said that this fell off a cart,” Mayflower smiled a bit, “While seeking for a place to settle down, we passed an old military convoy. Over there, we found all of the weapons we have now.”

Graphite chuckled, he still couldn’t believe these kids found a rocket launcher that just fell off a cart. He didn’t know what to say next, but Mayflower went ahead and gave the launcher to Graphite. The gun dropped into his hooves; he expected a heavy load, but didn’t think he would almost drop it when it hit his arms. He checked out the incredible weapon, looking down the length of it. He gave it one last look, then swung it over his shoulder, resting it there, and lifting it up to get a feel for it. There was a electronic optic sight that extended out as he lifted the barrel up to his view.

It popped out, the screen on the optic fizzled and buzzed for a quick second when it turned on. He looked down the sight. Inside was a type of sights which were rather usual for the rocket launchers in the army, and the screen had a yellowish tint to it. The sight probably featured a night-vision of some sort. Graphite could feel a strange feeling biting at him as he held it, unsure what it could be.

“This is quite the find, Mayflower. The weapon is new - but it can’t shake this feeling like I’ve seen it before,” Graphite said and looked over to Mayflower.

“It does? Say- um- how exactly do you know so much about weapons?”

“I was... It’s a long story,” Graphite looked down and sat down the rocket launcher on the floor, “I’ll tell it to you some other time, right now we need to teach you what you need to know about weapons,” He looked up and faced Mayflower again, “Could you please pick up the weapons - I saw an alley just right of the building, we can set up a shooting gallery over there.”

Mayflower picked up the guns, just as Graphite ordered, and headed through the back room to the alley just behind the pharmacy. She used her magic to lift the launcher up and two of the pistols; the rest, she had to carry herself since the magic was too great trying to keep the launcher up. In the meantime, Graphite started to picked up ammunition which they could use for the training. He sorted through the ammo slowly, because he needed some time to think.

Mayflower’s questions had risen a dozen more questions inside Graphite. “How did exactly he know all of this?” He thought to himself. Sure, by now he remembered what he had been taught at the boot camp, but what about the first encounter with the raiders? Was killing one of his instincts? And if so, was he about to pass it down to a bunch of little children? Graphite sat down for a bit and thought about was this really what he wanted for the kids to know. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t attack peaceful ponies after he leaves them - after all - this was the wasteland where almost anything could happen.

After a few minutes of collecting his thoughts, he picked up all of the ammo which he needed and headed out into the back alley. The alley was a very dark corner of the streets; an old dumpster and some forgotten trash bags lay rusted and dilapidated against the wall of the adjacent building. There was a little bit of weed growth, but now they grasses and small ferns that began to grow there shriveled up and wilted over, lightly flowing in the breeze that traveled through the alley. The gusts enjoyed banding together in this one alleyway and shooting all out into the streets, giving Graphite a very relaxing breeze as he walked up to Mayflower.

He was met by Mayflower and other five cheery faces; it seems the kids had already ran out while Graphite was clamoring through the munitions. The kids were all bounding with joy - big grins on their faces as they waited for the first lesson in destruction. Graphite was joyed to see the children so happy, but a bit worried seeing that the children were so happy to be taught how to kill. He could imagine that the kids were as gleeful to learn how to murder as it was to learn to say the alphabet. They waited a long time for this moment, and it had finally arrived in the form of a young war veteran in a steel suit of armour.

The kids imagined different. They were to young to understand the concept of right and wrong, or good and bad. They didn’t know that killing another living being was a heavy burden on the killer - whether it was in cold blood or not. They just knew they were being taught something new and exciting, and couldn’t wait to get their small hooves on that rocket launcher Graphite was drooling over back at the pharmacy.

Hot-Sauce was the oldest of the foals, but she spared no less enthusiasm to learn new tricks from a stallion who could beat Rotten in a fight. She even took her cast iron helmet off to see the lesson be given. Graphite dropped the ammunition to his side, just near the guns, and stood at attention in front of the fillies and colts.

“Alright, you guys are in poor shape to be fighting off raiders, so I’m going to teach you how to properly fight,” Graphite pronounced, acting as if he was a drill sergeant -- it helped entertain the kids a little.

One of the colts didn’t laugh though, he just stood by staring deeply at Graphite. It was a small colt; his coat was a very rich and deep, dark green colour and was nicely brushed; his mane and tail were a blinding black that blended in with the shadows of the alley. Graphite noticed this little colt - he was the only one without a smile on his face - he walked up closer to him, and bent down to his eye level, “Hey there,” Graphite spoke to him in a small voice. The little colt just turned his head away from Graphite, not making a single noise.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Graphite tried reassuring the colt - to no success.

Mayflower walked up to Graphite, setting her hoof on his shoulder, “Don’t worry about Olive, Graphite; he doesn’t talk.”

“He’s just a little shy, I’m sure if-”

“-No, he won’t talk, Graphite,” Mayflower grabbed hold of chest and back, telling Graphite to stand. She brought him a few steps away from the kids, and pulled him into a whisper, “Watching your parents die is very hard on a kid...”

“I can’t imagine how painful that could be.” He replied, knowing that he couldn’t feel the same pain, he could still sympathize with the bashful colt.

“I can - I was there too. They killed his parents in front of all the slaves when word got out about our escape, ‘This is what will happen to you if you try to escape!’ That’s what the slaver said to us before taking a hatchet to their skulls...”

Graphite couldn’t respond other than a low, solemn, “Oh...”

“He still could use the lesson, so let’s get back to that... okay?”

Mayflower started her walk back to the foals’ sides, Graphite replied back as she trotted, “Okay.”

She got back to the row, patting Olive’s head just before she got back to her place. Graphite tried his cocky drill sergeant impression one more time, the kids were still in their fits of giggles over it, “Alright you little ones, our first lesson will be in gun control,” with his over-emphasized movements, he grabbed the .45 calibre pistol from the pile of guns they brought out from the pharmacy and brought to display for the kids, “We’ll start with this one.”

The foals ooh’d, their big, round eyes fixed on the pistol, “So who wants to go first,” Graphite asked the fillies and colts around. He looked around at the foals as they flapped their arms around and jumped up and down hoping to be picked; one filly seemed particularly eager - and didn’t seem to be looking in one direction. This filly - a filly with a clean pale blue coat, a light yellow mane, and sapphire coloured eyes that looked in two directions - was overjoyed to begin her training. Graphite wasn’t completely sure what to think of this one; her eyes threw him off any sort of reasonable explanation - so he chose to go with the obvious foal excitement.

Graphite stepped up to the filly, kneeling down once more to get to her eye level -- a hard thing to do when one eye was looking up while the one went down, “How about you...”

“I’m Angel Eyes!” The filly answered the question with a very sunny smile.

“Angel Eyes! I like that name - how about you go first, Angel?”

The little angel’s eyes widened even wider than they already were, her mouth opened, and her excitement was so great that they couldn’t be expressed with words - only a very sporadic nod. Graphite handed her the pistol, “Turn around and point the gun that way, I’ll tell you what to do from there.”

Graphite turned the filly himself; She grabbed the pistol with her strong bite and pointed forward. Angel Eyes was facing two cinder blocks and a some tin-cans stood up on those broken cinder blocks.

Graphite pointed towards the bent tin-cans with his hoof and instructed Angel Eyes, “Okay, you’re going to bite down as hard as you can on that handle - make sure it doesn’t come loose - and aim the end of the gun at those cans down there; got it?”

“Um, okay,” Angel responded, the gun muffling her speech.

She adjusted the handle with her teeth, pressing her forelegs down against the ground to get a good footing.

“When you’re ready, pull the trigger with your tongue.”

Angel nodded her head, using all of her concentration to focus on the tin-cans ahead of her. Her eyes strained to follow the same object, but when she thought she got a good sight on it, she extended her tongue and pulled the trigger back. The gun banged, throwing the filly’s head back and almost knocked her down on her back - the kick did make her loose grip on the gun, and it flew back behind her and hit the ground. The bullet pierced the air and traveled on through to the tin-can, hitting it on it’s edge. The can twisted violently, spinning off the cinder block and hitting the wall of the pharmacy.

Angel Eyes suddenly bounded to her hooves, looking over at the cans and blocks, “Did I get it?” She questioned, looking to see if there was any sign of a hit target.

Graphite moved over to the blocks, reaching behind them, and grabbed an old, crushed tin-can with a noticeable cut through the edge, “You got it, Angel!” Graphite shouted back to her with happiness.

The look on Angel’s face was like looking at a cute little angel from above; her smile was wide and her mouth was wide open, her eyes beamed with joy in all directions, and she was ready to jump up to the moon. She turned to the others with that same look on her face and yelled, “I got it!”

The other foals shared the same amount of joy for her, except for Olive, who was still just as silent as a lamb. Graphite was positive he wanted to jump for joy just as the others, but his trauma wasn’t going to let that happen. Graphite still had lessons to teach, and ponies to teach too, so he promised himself he would have each one of these foals in fighting condition no matter the cost.

The training would fold out with the next pony in line - the line was always set youngest to oldest. Olive was the youngest, and would usually sit the training out; it went up the line from Angel Eyes, Hot-Sauce, Gum Drop, Blankey, and ending with Mayflower. Graphite also set a training regiment of gun handling, basic gun operating, close-quarters combat, survival skills, and anything else he happen to remember they seemed like a good skill to teach the fillies and colts. His bond with the foals grew during the time of teaching, it made him feel like he was part of a big family.

Chapter 7: The Beast in Me

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The next several days, Graphite and the group of children spent on practicing how to fire and take care of their weapons. Each of them got their own pistol or submachine gun, depending on their abilities to handle them - and if they were strong enough to hold it up. Hot-Sauce even got her cutie mark while they were making improvised explosives. She was very keen at creating a basic fire-bomb from some left over beer bottles, a cloth, and a good spark to get a fire going. Her cutie mark matched this ability, a small bottle with a flaming rag tucked in the spout.

The group also scouted the surrounding neighborhood for added training. By the end of the week, they knew every place to lay an ambush, hide supplies, or travel unnoticed. They even set up some traps on the ways which lead to the Pharmacy that wasn’t in their field of view.

All of this time, Rotten was watching them and following them around. When Mayflower asked him why was he doing that, he replied that he did it for the safety of the children. Yet, something else said that it seemed like he was trying to learn a thing or two from Graphite himself.

One evening, after another sweep of the surrounding area, they gathered in the back room of the Pharmacy. Rotten, like always, was on the rooftop looking out for any enemies that might come their way.

Inside the room, they lit up a small lantern and had spent some time talking and telling tales to each other. It was late at night, so all of the foals were asleep under their blankets. Olive slept next to Mayflower, curled up in a little ball pressed next to her.

The room was quiet for a while. They both let the foals fall asleep and, only then, began their conversation again.

“So, um... you never really told me where you learnt all of this stuff about weapons and tactics,” Mayflower stated in a quiet voice, almost whispering.

“Well, believe it or not, but I was in the army,” Graphite answered in an equally quiet tone.

“What army? You mean the Talon Company?”

“No, I mean an actual army - The Equestrian Marines.”

“That’s impossible. You’d have to be more than two hundred years old by now to do that. Only ponies who can do that are-”

“-Here,” Graphite interrupted Mayflower and took out the folded newspaper article from the inside of his duster. He handed it over to Mayflower who picked it up with her spell. She used the glow of her horn to help her read in the night.

After Mayflower read over the newspaper article and a compared the image a few times to Graphite’s actual appearance. She gave the paper over to Graphite again and asked, “How did you survive all of this time? You don’t look like a walking corpse to me.”

Graphite patted on his chin a few times, “There was a term for that- uh... Cyropreservation, I believe.”

“I’ve only read about some experiments with freezing spells in really old magazines. But they never said that the ponies working on those ever succeeded.”

“What kind of magazines where those?” Graphite grinned, “I’m a living, breathing example of those spells working.”

“Well if you were preserved, were your family preserved with you?”

“No, they weren’t... they... didn’t even live long enough to die from the blasts...” Graphite closed his eyes, losing his grin quickly before he looked down and gave a quiet sigh.

Mayflower noticed tears were forming in Graphite’s eyes; her heart sank, and she regretted asking, “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too...”

“It’s fine, you didn’t know...”

“I know how you feel though, I lost my family too...”

Graphite looked over to Mayflower, her feelings were just as his, but she seemed more troubled by the feeling then he could ever know. She hung her head slightly lower, but she began a story.

“My family originally came from a stable - stable thirty nine. I don’t know if you remember, but those were large underground shelters built before the war started. One day, my father got in conflict with the overmare and our family was casted out from the stable. I didn’t know what he did, I was only a baby when that happened. We never settled down, we kept on moving from place to place. My parents taught me how to read and some agricultural spells they used to revive plants back in the stable. While we traveled, we got caught up by the slavers. Our family was captured about a year ago. On the first day they separated me from my parents, all I was left with was my mother’s stable suit. I never saw my mother or father again... I keep my mom’s suit with me at all times.”

“I guess that I could say the same about my armour, It’s special to me too - saved my hide a couple of times and that’s only as many as I can remember.” Graphite said and looked over at his back which was covered by the black duster, “I’m guessing that I got my armour sometime while I was in the military.”

“Do you remember what happened in the war?” Mayflower asked.

“I don’t really remember; we were fighting Zebra’s there - that’s for sure.”

“I don’t want to bring up bad memories, but how much do you remember from the war?”

“It’s okay Mayflower, I don’t recall too much from the war anyway. I have some parts of my memory still wrapped in the back of my mind - maybe it’s for the best,” He paused, recollecting his memories from the war, “I do remember some stuff from my first combat assignment, though. We were sent to an island. That island belonged to Equestria, and Zebra’s didn’t take too much interest in it at first; but as the war dragged on, and the front line in the north became a killing floor, both of the sides were looking for ways to end the war faster. We started to develop new technology and spells. The Zebra’s on the other hoof tried to look for a place where to open a new front. The high command didn’t notice anything until the Zebra’s had already taken two of our islands and were about to take the third island. From there, they would be in a striking distance for the main land. So they send our division and another regiment of troops to the island to retake it.”

“Which division were you in?” Mayflower asked.

“I was in the seventh marine division, if I remember correctly. We were the first ones to go in the island. Before we were sent on our way, one of colonels were shouting out to all of us the plans for the attack. ‘Hit the ground running! Don’t stop on the beach! Keep your head down!’ Things like that. The landing went smoother than expected though, there was absolutely no resistance - there wasn’t a zebra in sight. We simply walked out on the beach and enjoyed the sun. The first day was spend building up the base and searching the island for any signs of Zebra activity.”

“Were there any zebras on the island?” She asked once again.

“No, there wasn’t - we did find some abandoned sheds. Our company got sent out in the jungle and we only found an abandoned Zebra camp. The camp was sort of a small village, made out of huts from small logs and covered with palm tree leaves. It looked like they had abandoned it in a hurry. Everything was there - food, water, personal belongings, whatever they happen to leave behind.”

“But did the zebras ever attack you on that island?”

“I don’t remember,” Graphite leaned back, relaxing in his spot on the blankets.

“Nothing?”

“Nope... I just remember finding that camp; after that, it’s kinda just a blur. Most of what I could remember came to me in a dream, and I’m not sure how accurate that is anyways.”

“Maybe you’ll remem-” Mayflower yawned, lying her head down near Olive’s head, “-maybe you’ll remember it in the morning, it’s getting late, and we should head to bed.”

“Yeah, alright - ‘Night,” Graphite told her, lying his down on his hooves and closing his eyes shut.

Mayflower was already half asleep, but she had just enough attention to say goodnight back. Graphite fell into his sleep, like he was jumping down a plane and into a deeper plane of rest. He took in a deep breath and let it out. It went black.

A light blinded Graphite, disturbing his sleep.

“Get up, Graphite, we first up for scouting today!”

Graphite rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the surge of bright light from blinding him.

“Get up lazy ass,” A stallion with a raspy voice joked, pushing Graphite from his cot.

Graphite tumbled off the cot, hitting the floor with a thud, “Aww f- come on... there’s no one out here, why do we need to scout?”

Graphite picked himself up off the floor, dusting the dirt from his uniform. Ahead of him was the second of command in his squad, Blue Jay. His name was probably given for his sea blue mane and deep indigo eyes; the rest of the pegasus’ coat was pure white. Blue Jay’s job usually involved spotting the area from a bird’s eye view. He did his job without question, and he did it well; which usually earned him the respect of the other members of the company. It definitely earned the attention of the lieutenant. He was usually the one to be given awards during service. The only others to be given awards regularly was the demolitions expert in company five and the lieutenant himself. Graphite didn’t get jealous, he was pretty good friends with Blue Jay - especially as a drinking buddy.

Blue Jay was serious about his service, but he didn’t let his work get in the way of being friendly -- even if friendly was waking up your partner by pushing him off the bed. Jay was standing impatiently waiting for Graphite to pick himself up, “Come on, Graphite we don’t got time to spare.”

“I’m sure there’s Zebras everywhere just waiting off the coastline,” Graphite said with notable sarcasm.

“You never know, Graphite,” Jay replied, directing him out the the tent and back outside.

They left the tent, folding the flap down as they exited, the light was even brighter when they left the tent. As bright as it was, the blinding white light was gorgeous against the foliage of the island’s woods, and the soft white sands on the beach. The scenery was quite extraordinary, but Graphite never seemed to have time to enjoy the view when his squad was picked as the first scouts everyday.

The island on which the soldiers had landed on was the largest island in the Salmon Island chain. Scouting missions usually involved a grid-line trek of up and down through the jungle, then a lap around a section of beach. The hikes through the jungle was an unbearable thing; the island was as mountainous as the sea was wavy. It was constant up and down, and a struggle to keep a reasonable grid-line pattern through the dense rain forest. The humidity was like swimming through syrup, and just as sticky.

The only time Graphite could be jealous of Blue Jay was the fact he was “ordered” to give a bird’s eye view from the cool, clean sky above. He would fly around just above Graphite looking about the canopy of trees. Graphite would occasionally look up at Blue Jay to check on him; and occasionally, Blue Jay would catch his eyes and smirk - probably taunting Graphite.

They went in with only one weapon and a bit of spare ammo. Graphite went in with his rifle. His rifle was assigned to him when he became designated sharpshooter. Graphite had been using it since he got it back at the boot camp. The rifle was mostly wooden, the basic body of the gun all a dark wood; the mag-well was just ahead of the trigger and Graphite went in with a twenty round round magazine to keep the rifle full; the barrel and upper receiver were a polished steel, newly made just before the start of the war; coming standard as a sharpshooter rifle, it had a telescopic scope attached on the railings - Graphite wrapped the end of the scope to the body of the gun with a leather strip and some thread to keep it from coming loose.

Blue Jay went in with a submachinegun - infantry and criminal mug standard. His was an older model compared to Graphite’s gun; it had a few wood chips in the stock and fore-grip, and the end of the barrel was starting to rust. It was an old and a rather bulky gun. The gun was particularly popular with numerous criminals - many of whom were resided in Buckago. The body was mainly a steel brand, only the grips and stock were the darkened wood; to keep the gun his, Jay put in the extra time to add a fifty round drum magazine to his gun.

They scoured the jungle in search of Zebra activity, and there was none to be found. They were nearing the end of the forest, when an odd rustling of the ferns caught the two scouts’ attention. It was a different sound of rustling from the usual rustle of the wind through the leaves. They stopped, aiming the guns in the direction of the noise. They looked on into the thicket, seeing nothing but the birds fluttering about the trees and some loose leaves gliding to the floor.

“Let me go check it out...” Blue Jay conveyed.

“Roger,” Graphite responded.

Jay flew in the direction of the noise, looking over every inch of forest and hills that scattered his field of view. The branches and brush spread out and covered up most of anything that wasn’t green; Jay continued his fly over while Graphite was left on the ground - alone. He stood his ground in the spot he never moved from since the noise. He looked around in every direction, his gun unwavering from where he was focused. After that first rustle of leaves, there wasn’t a noise around; only the quiet tones of the tropical birds singing their songs to one another. Graphite peeked up, seeing Jay was still not overhead. He dropped his head back down to the tree trunks below the evergreen canopy. Just as he got his head in position of the direction of the disturbance, a wild animal sprung from the bush immediately ahead of him.

It was a zebra; he had been hiding in the brush waiting for his moment to attack. He lunged out, both arms extended, and a homemade machete in his mouth. The blade was a dark black metal, the edge of the blade was shattered and jagged with a broken up serration, the handle was a blunt stick wrapped in a tattered cloth. The zebra was flying towards Graphite, he didn’t make a sound, not even the wind rushing passed him was disturbed. Like a ghost, he came out with only one goal in mind - but Graphite wasn’t going to let this zebra get even a drop of blood from his hide.

Graphite brought his gun back for a swing, making sure the stock was up and ready for a strike. He thrust the gun forward, but at the wrong moment - it was too late. The gun hit the side of the zebra, but he was already nearing the end of his flight, and the only thing the thwack of the gun did was help him bring Graphite down. The zebra was knocked over, but his hoof caught Graphite’s uniform and dragged him down to the ground using the grip he got Graphite’s sleeve.

They both slammed against the ground; Graphite knocked his head head on a dug in rock, while the zebra got a face full of dirt. The rock almost knocked Graphite cold, but it did knock the breath right out of him. He gasped for air, grinding his hoof on the dirt floor of the jungle. Graphite winced, his head slumped over to the zebra who was spitting out clumps of dirt and twigs from his mouth. Graphite could barely see - his vision wasn’t improving either - the edges of his view were going black, but he could see the zebra come back up with his machete in his tight grip. The zebra stood to his hooves, rearing up with the blade high above him. With the last bit of will power left in Graphite, he divided all of his concentration behind him, finding his rifle that was knocked from his grasp. He whipped the rifle forward, the zebra struck his machete down and was stopped by the receiver - just before it could impale Graphite. Graphite chucked the rifle, along with the machete, away from the zebra; throwing the zebra back down unto his back.

Graphite seared and gnashed his teeth, finally sucking in air. He filled his lungs to the brim, letting it out in a war shout. He flung himself up like a spring-board, grabbing the zebra’s machete from the dirt floor. He spared no moments to rear himself up and strike the blade down on the zebra’s head. The blade of the machete tore through the zebra’s skull solely from the shear might of the swing. It cracked his skull, bashing it in and cutting into the brain. The serrations and horribly cracked edge if the blade tumbled the bits of skull straight into the brain cavity. Graphite released his grip from the blade; the blade was so deep in the skull of the zebra, it had gotten stuck in the mess of brains and tissue.

Graphite stopped to see what his fury had done. He got a good, long look at the dying zebra. His face was hard to recognize, half of it was caved in; but from what Graphite could see, he seemed to be right in his mid-life. The zebra was the natural white with black stripes - now with an added spot of crimson; his mane was frazzled and unkempt, long and with no styling to it, just as his tail; his uniform was a tan-ish brown, two straps criss-crossed each other in an ‘x’ formation and was used to keep his bag around him; the pants were just a bland, beige colour and only had a zipper to vary the design; the boots were about shin height and pure black; there was a badge stitched into the shoulder of his uniform, but the blood splattered out anything to make out as a design.

Graphite stepped away, his mind was flowing with an regretful feeling. He dropped to the ground, planting his face in his hooves. What he had just done? He couldn’t tell what overcame him and made him attack the zebra without a thought, without question, without a thought of at least doing it in a more humane way. He could have used his rifle for it’s intended purpose. One bullet to the head and end it quickly; not a skull crushing blow from a rusted machete. It was too late now, the blood was already squirting from the side of his head, splashing out onto the sides of the blade. His first blood. Graphite took his hooves off from his eyes and looked down on himself. His green uniform, now splattered with some other pony’s blood.

A screeching whoosh came down from the heavens. Graphite peeled his eyes from the floor to look upwards. A blue streak came down like a meteorite, the arc seemed awfully close to Graphite. The object landed at Graphite’s side, planting its hooves into the dust. It turned to Graphite, and the dust cleared; that’s when Graphite noticed it was Blue Jay.

“Graphite! Are you alright?” Jay asked, one hoof raised above the ground from the worry.

Graphite snarled, placing his face back into his hooves without a word to Blue Jay.

Jay noticed Graphite’s sorrow instantly, but couldn’t help but notice the eviscerated zebra lying just ahead of him, “Damn...” He commented.

“I-I just don’t know what happened,” Graphite was on the edge of breaking into tears, “H-he just jumped at me and then I-”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Jay interrupted him, “You did what you had to do.”

“I know that we’re here to kill them, but it’s just so different than what they taught us.”

“Well, they can’t teach you everything at boot camp. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Blue Jay came over to Graphite and helped him up to his hooves, “Let’s get back to the camp, we have to report us finding this son of a bitch here.”

“I- I guess you’re right,” Graphite wondered and with Blue Jay’s help, got up. They both slowly trumped back to the camp. Jay understood in what condition his friend was and thus, he took up the responsibility of watching their backs on their way back.

On the way back, Graphite thought of what Jay meant by, “You’ll get used to it.” Did taking the lives of others became the same as easy and forgettable as stepping on a bug? Time would show; yet, he wasn’t very keen on finding and answer to that question.

Graphite’s head was starting to ache, the knock to the back of his skull made him dizzy. He was starting to trip, only Jay could help him stay up. He was beginning to fade; his eyes slowly dropped down and closed shut.

He flinched, his eyes were twitching, and he could feel someone shaking his right side. He looked over with a groggy squint and saw that Olive was standing at his side, holding a hoof on his shoulder and looking at him.

Graphite looked up at Olive, “Olive, why are you awake?”

Olive didn’t reply, just as quiet as a shush per usual, he just starred at him for a moment and hugged him tight.

Graphite wasn’t sure how to respond, but he put his arm around the colt and asked him again in a quiet voice, “You’re having bad dreams too?”

Olive looked at Graphite and nodded.

“It’s okay, every pony has those from time to time. Try and get some sleep now, Olive.”

Olive nodded again and lied down right next to Graphite.

“I thought that you-” He said as he looked down to tell the colt to go back to his blanket, but he lightened up when he saw the foal already sleeping curled up in a ball next to his side. Graphite sighed and whispered to himself, “Nevermind...” He then lifted up his black duster and made it into a blanket for the two of them.

Graphite pulled Olive close with one arm around his body, keeping him safe through the night as he snored little wheezes.

Chapter 8: Lady

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The day broke quickly, the sun was already outshining the moon’s glow. Graphite was still fast asleep, but Olive had left his side a few moments ago; he was used to breakfast being prepared at about this time in the morning. Olive woke and was already waiting out in the main room of the pharmacy; Mayflower had cracked open a few cans of peaches for the foals. She had a three wooden bowls left over, but she had the only thing left over to hold the peaches were unwashed plates - one of them chipped. The next wave of fillies and colts came into the Pharmacy; after Olive came Angel Eyes, then Gumdrop right after her.

Gumdrop was a very upbeat pony to say the least - even being soaked down in the black rains couldn’t kill her cheery disposition. She had a very thin, black mane - the rains caused the hair in her mane to fall out, and in her tail, it only stopped coming out after a rinse in concentrated potion - her coat was also blackened by the rains, but only at the top, the rest was a stained pink. Her voice was very high pitched and loud, and she let everyone hear it often. Gumdrop was bounding just beside Mayflower as she opened the cans.

After Gumdrop came Hot-Sauce, who was dragging Blankey away from the back room as she held a tight hold onto her blanket. She was a tiny little, dark blue filly with a relaxing yellow mane that lay straight. She was holding her blanket in one hoof; the blanket was an old blanket and was a very discoloured gray and had numbers among numbers of brown and blue patches to stitch the holes in the blanket together. Her eyes were half closed and her free hoof was used to rub her groggy eyes awake. Hot-Sauce had her by the arm, helping her into the pharmacy by dragging her there. She didn’t seem to mind, but she didn’t seem awake enough to notice. Aside from the other foals who have lost family members, Blankey was the only one to not experience family life - she was an orphan for what seemed to be forever. When Mayflower and Rotten came across the abandoned filly some time after escaping the slaver camp, she was deep asleep and only had her blanket to keep her company. That was Blankey’s special talent - sleeping, and she practiced often.

All the fillies and all the colts finally arrived at the main room of the pharmacy, all of them gathering around Mayflower as she popped open the final can of peaches.

“Everyone ready for breakfast?” Mayflower playfully asked, bring about the dishes full of peaches in her telekinesis spell.

Hot-Sauce, Angel Eyes, and Gumdrops all exclaimed a hardy, “Yes!” Especially Gumdrops; Olive and Blankey, on the other hoof, were a little less excitable - in that, they didn’t say a word.

Only when the word ‘breakfast’ came echoing through the back room, would Graphite stir. His ears perked at the word, he brought up his head and yawned a yawn. He outstretched his body from hoof to hoof, arching his back and straining to pop the joints back to place. With a few crackles, he got up, heading for the exit for the back room. The group of children sat in a circle with Mayflower as they biggest point in this collection.

“Did someone say breakfast?” Graphite opened up, getting the last few stretches out.

Mayflower turned her head to see Graphite, the kids were to busy eating to notice him, “Yeah, we’re having can peaches. I might have just enough for you if you’re feeling hungry, Graphite.” Mayflower stated with a mouthful of peaches.

“Alright, I can get that myself if you show me where they are-”

“-No,” Mayflower interceded, “I’ll get it for you. I found our storage space was unlocked; so I’m not going to let anyone near the food except for myself.”

Graphite tried to hide his worry with a fake smile, hoping Mayflower didn’t know that he was the one digging through their storage space.

Mayflower trotted to the food storage for the spare peaches. In the mean while, Graphite sat down and watched how rest of the children were eating their breakfast. Most of them ate the food as quick as they could, almost like someone was going to take it away from them. They even stuffed their whole snout in their bowls to dig the peaches out. That was accept for Blankey. She sat there on the ground, covered up in her blanket and nibbled each bit of the peach in her mouth before eating it, like if she was checking it if it was edible or not.

Graphite looked at Blankey for a while. She looked so peaceful, almost like she didn’t know what kind of a hell the world around her had turned into - or even the rudeness of the family around her. He even gave her a little smile, which she didn’t notice of course.

There was a loud clanking from the back room, Rotten must be climbing down the ladder again; the clangs turned into hurried stomps. Graphite’s once calm moment was now interrupted by Rotten’s shouting, “Hey, Graphite - I’ve got something! Get your ass upstairs and bring your rifle!”

Rotten made it seem like this was something important, so Graphite went up to check it out and went to the back room for his rifle, then got on the roof where Rotten was lying. He was surveying the territory beyond the city.

The roof was Rotten’s territory, and he guarded it daily. No one but Mayflower dared to enter it because of how defensive he got when they did. Rotten had set up himself makeshift bed our of a cardboard box. Next to it lied a few empty cans of peaches and a few boxes of ammo.

“Quit fucking around and come see this!” Rotten ordered Graphite as soon as he got on the rooftop.

Graphite went up to the edge of the roof and placed his rifle on a wall, checking to make sure it was sturdy. He looked down the scope and saw a group of grungy ponies with homestyle rifles accompanied by three griffons that were packing bigger firepower. They all looked ready for a fight and they definitely had seen some combat before, they were decorated with scars and scraps. One of the griffons even had a suit of black combat armour with a decal of an eagle talon painted in big on the chest.

“I hate griffons,” Graphite mumbled as he looked down the scope.

“Griffons...? Lemme see,” Rotten demanded as he pushed Graphite aside from his rifle scope, “Well, shit. Those are the slavers... and they’ve brought some company.”

He got up and dashed over to grab his submachinegun, “You stay here and play sniper for a while, I’ll go and warn the others,” Rotten dropped down the ladder opening and landed down in the back room.

“I’m a sharpshooter, not a sniper,” Graphite mumbled while he looked down his rifle’s scope again and continued to observe the situation.

The group of slavers slowly moved down the street, they had a small conversation going on; what it was about, Graphite didn’t want to know. The kids went inside the buildings along the street in which they had punched some holes in the walls so that they could easily connect them to each other. He could see Hot-Sauce getting on the top floor of a building with a bag full of her home made firebombs and a pistol. Rotten, Angel Eyes and Gumdrop soon went into another building nearby, each equipped with a submachinegun. Graphite could hear Mayflower and the two other foals doing something downstairs, but he couldn’t tell exactly what.

Mayflower and Blankey were huddling inside the pharmacy, preparing for the oncoming onslaught. Rotten was heading out of the pharmacy with Hot-Sauce, Angel Eyes, and Gumdrops. Rotten’s group was heading for the apartments just across the street.

The slavers neared the pharmacy, they obviously knew that the kids had to be there waiting for them if they had to bring all their firepower. Graphite was going to put his sharpshooter’s training to work, getting a good view on the head of what seemed to be the slaver lead. The leader was a griffon -- of course -- it was easy to tell since her black armour suit had thicker steel plates and the biggest painting of a talon on her chest-plate. Her feathers were ruffled and dirty, the ones on her head were styled up in some sort of mohawk. Her mohawk was dyed at the tips of the feathers, changed to a crimson red - possibly blood from all the ponies she’s dealt with in the past. The rest of her posse were in clear view behind him. The ponies that tagged along were equipped with make-shift rifles and spoiled in tape and extra parts. The griffons were on either side of the leader, they were wearing the same black armour suit, but their suits weren’t as decorated.

Graphite took in a breath and tunneled his vision down the scope of his rifle, but his aim was thrown off by a series of loud bangs from the first floor of the pharmacy. He didn’t even get to blink as there already a volley of three missiles flying for the centre of the group. The griffon leader swooped up into the air to where Graphite couldn’t catch her in his scope again.

As soon as the rockets reached the group, they collided with the road and burst into a loud a boom. The explosion sent up a big cloud of smoke into the atmosphere along with some limbs flying off the carcasses of the ponies.

Hot-Sauce threw in one of her home style firebombs from the rooftops. The bottle shattered and lit up two remaining griffons at the end of the group who couldn’t get their thoughts together to react to the surprise. They screamed as their feathers now soaked in a mixture of petrol and alcohol caught on fire. The griffons tried to drop down on the ground to put the fires out, but the petrol kept the fire going and they both died in a slow, fiery death. The dying cries of the griffons made Graphite’s blood curdle; the unnatural whelps of suffering was scraping against Graphite’s ears. Hot-Sauce didn’t see or hear any of this as she threw down some more flaming bottles down behind the group, lighting up the ground behind them on fire and cutting off their path of retreat. When Hot-Sauce ran out of fire bombs she left the rooftop and headed for where Rotten and two of the foals had taken up position.

With no path of retreat, the rest of the slavers continued to scatter down the street. They continued to move up to the pharmacy as they saw that the rocket had came from there - and that meant the kids were in there too. As they ran down the street, the group of foals popped out from windows of the first floor of what used to be an apartment building. The group opened up on the slavers and with a hail of bullets took down four slavers.

Two more slavers remained. They were pinned down across the street behind a bench and the mail dropbox next to it. They ducked down as far as they could to avoid the flying bullets but, the slavers didn’t have any cover from Graphite’s line of fire.

Graphite took aim once again and carefully set his sights for the back of the neck of the pony who sat behind the bench. He steadied his aim to an almost pinpoint accuracy, he planned on taking down the pony in a way which would be as swift a death as possible. He squeezed the trigger and the bullet spiraled out of the barrel, flying amongst the popping of the pistol and submachinegun fire made by the group of foals. The bullet went through the back of the slavers neck and into his skull, killing him in less time than it took for the bullet to get there.

Graphite hesitated on taking the shot on the slaver who was behind the dropbox. The light gray mare had dropped her rifle on the ground and was to terrified to pop-out from the cover. Her hooves were holding her head down close to her body, her whole body was quaking in fear. Graphite looked down on the mare with his rifle scope and saw the look on her face. It seemed like the whole her life was flashing before her eyes. He probably had the same look on his face when the children opened up fire on him.

Graphite's thoughts were interrupted as he heard some clinking sounds from behind him. It was as if someone was climbing the ladder to the roof. He turned around and saw the griffon which had escaped his view earlier with a short steel wire and too wooden handles on each end. She held the wire in her talons with a tight grip and didn’t think twice to tackle Graphite and attempt it get around his neck.

Graphite stopped the wire right as it came down, but she pulled it back and the wire pulled his hoof against his own neck. The griffon tugged and tugged, getting the wire tighter against his hoof and neck. In a last ditch effort, Graphite tumbled over, getting the griffon right underneath him. He used his magic to grab the knife from its sheath and flung it towards her head - but missed the mark, and only sliced a feather from her head.

The griffon eased off then quickly pulled again - even stronger than before. The pressure from his own hoof was strangling him, he was started to fade as the air slowly escaped his lungs. Graphite cringed; like a movie, he started to fade out and was going to cut to his final credits - but then the pain released in an instance.

Graphite gasped, taking back in all the air he lost and then some. The wire slid off his hoof and unto the floor; Graphite looked ahead of him as he got off the griffon’s body. Standing there with a pistol in mouth, was Olive - he came up without a sound as usual.

Whether by stroke of luck, or true valor, Olive had arrived just in time to save Graphite’s life. The was a weapon in Olive’s mouth, a small pistol no bigger than him. With one bullet, Olive took down the slaver and asked nothing in return.

Graphite shook the blood and dust off his body, then went over to grab his rifle. He turned to Olive, who was just standing there in his usual innocence, and told him, “Thank you, Olive.”

Olive responded with a single blink, and a leave as he climbed down the ladder of the pharmacy. Graphite smiled at his gesture - his very simple gesture. He brought the rifle around his shoulder and climbed down the ladder with Olive.

Graphite and Olive walked outside of the pharmacy. The firing had stopped and Rotten, with his group, stood near the mailbox; all were pointing their guns down on the gray mare. She was still lying down by the dropbox, shivering and tears rolling down her cheeks. The mare had some fresh bruises and flesh wounds, probably from the hail of projectiles recently.

“What’s going on here?” Graphite interrogated as he was approaching the mare.

“What the fuck does it look like? We’ve got ourselves a prisoner!” Rotten said and kicked the mare in the stomach, “Ain’t that right you bi-”

“-Stop it!” Graphite pushed Rotten aside with both hooves.

“The fuck are you trying to do?” Rotten pushed him back and glared at him, “These bastards killed our families and now they came here to kill us! Don’t you try and tell me that they don’t deserve it!”

“Alright, tell me this - how are you better than them if you’re beating a defenseless mare?”

“Defenseless? Fuck you!” Rotten shouted and grabbed one of the pistols from the foals. He was about to shoot the gray mare, but Graphite stopped him. He charged and pushed Rotten into the wall, making him drop his pistol.

“We’re not going to kill her! If you do, I’ll throw you out in the wastes with four broken legs and let you really become rotten!” Graphite said through the skin of his teeth as he was holding down Rotten with the mass of his body and his face against the wall with his hoof, “Did you understand that?”

Rotten nodded nervously. The glow in his eyes had turned from rage into one of shock and terror, his whole body began shake and shiver with chills of fear.

“Good...” Graphite released Rotten and walked back to the downed mare. He looked down on her. Though he had made it clear that they won’t kill her, the mare still looked at Graphite as if he would be her executor.

Graphite asked her, “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“R-r-ricochet,” The mare answered in a trembling voice.

“Ricochet, it looks like you’ve been wounded. Would you mind if we help you?” He asked her in a kind voice.

“Umm, I-i-i guess not...” The mare’s voice now had a sense of confusion to it. She probably couldn’t understand why would ponies who attacked her just moments ago would be so kind to her now.

Graphite took out his yellow first aid kit from the inside of his duster. He then used his magic to take out one of the purple syringes and remove the safety cap, “This might sting a bit, so please hold still.”

Ricochet closed here eyes and bit her teeth together. She jumped a bit when Graphite injected her with the potion. The potion coursed through the needle and through her body. It regenerated the beaten flesh and pulled together the scratches and scrapes.

Ricochet opened her eyes, all the wounds and bruises had healed. She patted on her rump and her arms to see if everything had really healed, “How did you do that?” She wondered still checking herself, sniffling the last few tears away.

“It’s the potions healing -- kinda like magic. You’ll feel numb, but everything is there,” Graphite tried to assure to make the mare feel better. He knelt down so the mare could wrap her arm around his shoulder and he could pick her up and get her back to her hooves.

Graphite helped the mare over to the pharmacy; Mayflower and Blankey were waiting inside, watching as Graphite help the slaver into their building. They watched as they saw their potential kidnapper hobble inside their home with the help of the stallion that was ready to kill her. Graphite came inside the pharmacy, the mare in tow, the rest of the kids followed close behind - Rotten still had his gun in his hoof at the ready.

“You think you can set out a place for her to rest, Mayflower?” Graphite requested.

“Yeah, I can set out a blanket in the back r-”

“-The mare stays in the main room,” Rotten interrupted Mayflower, “Graphite, you can be the one to watch the bitch since ya’ love her so much.”

Graphite wasn’t in the mood to start up another fracas, so he responded back in a low, “Fine.”

Mayflower didn’t say anything either, she went ahead to the back room to grab an extra blanket for their new guest. Rotten was no different than his usual grumpy attitude, and his seeming urge to storm up back to the roof of the pharmacy. Mayflower came from the room with one of the blankets Graphite used to sleep on. Rotten was going into the room just as she was leaving, nudging her aside to get through. Mayflower ignored it, most likely use to that kind of brash demeanor. She shook the blanket out, then laid it on the floor just aside the food storage, “This is all I have for you, Ricochet,” Mayflower regretted to say.

“That’ll be fine... t-thank you, so much-” Ricochet started have a choke in her voice; no longer fear, but of shear thankfulness. To be spared your life is definitely something to be thankful for.

“It’s not a problem,” Mayflower answered.

Graphite let her lean on him just a little longer until they reached the blanket; he let her down slowly and carefully, and fixed the blanket as it folded when she lied down. She laid her head down on her arms, curling up to fit as much of her body on the small blanket as she could get. She looked back up one last time, and from the corner of her eye, she a band of angels watching over her - two of them - her guardians.

She closed her eyes, taking her rest and letting the wounds heal and for the numbness to subside. Mayflower let her rest, not saying a peep. She guided the foals back into their rooms, patting Graphite on his shoulder as she went away. Graphite stood by, guarding over the mare just as he was ordered to do.

Chapter 9: Ain't No Grave

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Ricochet slept well through the night and awoke the next morning when every pony was having breakfast in the main room. She peaked her head above her body, looking over to the circle of ponies with her eyes squinted. The mare seemed to be confused by the surroundings in which she awoke in, but quickly remembered the events of yesterday. The crowd of eaters turned to her when they noticed she was awake.

“Have a good rest, Ricochet?” Graphite politely asked.

With a yawn and stretch, Ricochet replied back, “Well, I feel better than I did yesterday...”

“At least you feel better-” Graphite turned to Mayflower, taking another bite of his apple flavoured ration bar, “-Mayflower, do we have any extra can of peaches, or maybe another apple bar?”

“Oh, you don’t have to - I’ve been enough trouble for you guys already,” Ricochet tried reassuring the others, but Mayflower already stood to grab the extra food from the storage.

“You need to eat, ma’am,” Mayflower told Ricochet, swinging the supplies hatch open.

“Please, I’ll be fi-”

“-You’re going to need the energy for your next task, miss Ricochet,” Graphite added in a more serious tone of voice.

“Oh?” Ricochet wondered.

Mayflower trotted passed with a half can of peaches in her levitation spell. The last piece of dishware was used, so she had to use the can itself to hold the peaches. She grabbed the first spoon she could find, and came back to Ricochet with her breakfast, “Here you are,” She said, handing her the can.

“Oh, thank you miss...”

“...Mayflower,” Mayflower answered.

“So, what’s this about my ‘next task...’?”

Graphite swallowed his last bite of the apple bar, then chugged the small glass of water. He got up from his seat on the floor, the kids around simply going back to their meals as he stood, and traveled to the counter, “Well we may have spared your life, but you still have to pay the price for attacking us...”

Ricochet didn’t reply, she just looked at him with some confusion - and a bite full of peaches. Graphite reached around the side of the counter, digging his hoof around for something behind the counter. Ricochet swallowed down her bite of food, going for another spoonful of peaches just as Graphite found what he was looking for, “The others found this lying in some rubble in the apartments across the street,” Graphite mentioned as he whipped out a shovel, “And you’re going to use it to dig graves for your colleagues out there.”

“I guess that it’s... fair enough,” Ricochet divulged when she finished her gulp of the peaches.

“Finish your breakfast and then meet me behind the apartment house on the right,” Graphite conveyed, picking up his rifle and heading out the door.

Ricochet was silent again, she thought she might say something she would regret if even a single blurb left her lips. She finished the last peach in the can, then picked herself from the blanket. She staggered a bit, not use to the feelings in her legs again, the numbness had left and the wounds were had completely vanished. After checking on each place where she remembered she had a scrape or scratch, she set her breakfast and trotted out the front of the pharmacy. Mayflower watched her as she left. Ricochet stepped outside into the cool morning breeze, the air passing though the streets felt relaxing against her light gray coat. The sun had just poked its head over the horizon; there was a very light fog that covered the streets, but nothing that should be worried about. She took her steps to the right, heading to the alley where Graphite commanded her to meet him. When she reached the corner of the building, she found Graphite leaning against the side of the apartment with a cigarette lit in his mouth.

“Alright, it will be faster if you just dig one big one for all of them. Here’s the shovel,” Graphite remarked and gave her the shovel.

Ricochet held the shovel in her hooves, blowing a sigh into the wind, “Okay...” Was the only thing she could utter.

She set course for the courtyard just outside the apartments, dragging the bodies along as she passed them. She lined them neatly in a row, then grabbed the shovel with a tight grip.

The gray mare dug the pit for several hours under the watch of Graphite. At times, one of the kids would run over to them and bring them both a bottle of water. Then she would pause digging for a bit, but return to it very hastily - stared down by Graphite and his rifle. Pile after pile of dirt flung out the ditch that was slowly being made by the lone mare. The crew of foals now had a stockpile of dirt just outside their front lawn. It was just after lunch time when Ricochet finished her tomb for the damned. The sun was beating down over head, and the bodies were starting to boil and stink.

Ricochet wiped the sweat from her brow and rubbed her sore, aching arms. Graphite came to the border of the mare-made crater with a dripping wet burlap sack and two chard remnants of griffons in the tow of his telekinesis spell. He dropped the two bodies and the sack right at the edge of the hole and told Ricochet, “Don’t forget these guys.”

Ricochet crawled out of the grave, knocking some loose dirt into the bottom of the hole as her hooves stepped onto the sides of the grave. As much as Graphite seemed like the evil slaver now, making the poor mare work to dig her associates’ own graves, he was kind enough to lend her a hoof out of the hole. She took the aid with a happy surprise - but contained the smile that wanted to stretch out. Graphite pulled her out of the crater, dusting the dirt from mane and coat.

Graphite helped the mare to drop the dead bodies into the grave. The bodies piled up in an random menagerie of rotted carcasses and assortments of bloody potato sacks and overcooked griffon bodies. She stood next to Graphite by the edge of the pit, resting her front hooves on the shovel.

“So, any last words for your friends?” Graphite inquired.

“None of them were my friends - come to think of it - I wouldn’t feel comfortable calling any of those ponies a friend.”

“Weren’t you a team?”

“We were randomly picked to capture the foals again. If it wasn’t for the money, I would steer clear of them as far as possible. I think that stallion you blew up even yelled some whorish things to me by the bar one day.”

“What about the griffons?”

“They were just some extra guns. Most of the slavers are piss drunk and can’t shoot for shit if you send them on a mission this early in the morning. So yeah, they were just insurance.”

Graphite and Ricochet stood there in a silence, looking down at the bodies for a few minutes until Graphite decided to break the silence, “Why did they send such a big squad after a bunch of kids?”

“We went in more numbers since we knew that Peachy was with the children.-”

“-Peachy? There’s no pony here by that name.”

“It’s the dark orange one. I think that you guys call him Rotten or something like that...”

Graphite started to chuckle, covering up his mouth by his hoof, “How the hell did Peachy get his name?”

Ricochet also smiled, “He only knows how to do two things - kill others and how to prepare peaches,” The mare grew serious again, “Rotten’s a raider child. Though his mother must have been on the drugs constantly, there ain’t no way a foal can be that wild.”

Graphite stopped himself in his thoughts for a brief moment, disgusted to realize that Rotten had been preparing the peaches the whole time he was there. There was no telling where has hooves had been. He quickly realized that he had to continue the conversation.

“He’s just ill-tempered - I wouldn’t call him wild...”

“...Oh no, he is. We used to test our younger slaves in an arena to see if they are going to be fighters or not. Whenever Peachy was pitted against an opponent, he surprised them by going for their throats first and ripping out chunks of flesh with his teeth.”

“Wow, that’s very... appetizing...” Graphite tried to make sense of the disturbing thought, but the most sensible explanation was that Peachy was generally a wild card.

“Eeyup.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind while you finish the burial, Ricochet,” Graphite nodded his head at Ricochet, going back to his post behind her - he planted his rear on the rock that was in place in the field of the courtyard.

Ricochet shook her head and blew out another sigh of annoyance, moving on to the mountain of dirt and shoveling it back into the body filled divot. The day sun was setting just as the last bit of gravel filled the hole in the ground. Graphite had fallen asleep on the rock - his head slumped over and his eyes shut tight. Ricochet noticed this, and used it to give herself a moment of entertainment.

She took the shovel in both hooves and held it above her head - Graphite was still dead asleep. She swung the shovel down full force, slamming the shovel head against the body of the rock. Graphite jumped, falling head first on the ground. Ricochet also dropped the shovel from her hooves, the resonance bounced back and knocked it straight from her hooves. She held her hooves between her thighs and seared through her teeth; Graphite fell on the floor holding the top of his head and groaning. Ricochet lost balance, falling down, but she was more caring of her vibrating hooves than her now sore shoulder. Graphite tried to stand, picking himself up with one hoof while the other was gripped tight on his head.

“W-why...?” Graphite grumbled low.

“It was s-s-suppose to be funny...” The searing made Ricochet hold her ‘S’s like a snake biting it’s own tail.

The two ponies writhed in pain on the ground of the courtyard; Ricochet embarrassed and Graphite stunted. Graphite finally made it to his hooves, but he was dizzy from the headache. He took his steps in a slow ‘one at a time’ pace as he trumped over to the other end of the courtyard. That numbness in Ricochet’s hooves was starting to come back - that familiar feeling of no feeling. She cringed and started to shake out her hooves when the feeling was lost.

“Let’s head back to the pharmacy, Richochet,” Graphite growled, slumping to the other end of the street.

Ricochet could only nod in agreement, and help herself up with most of the strength coming from her two hind legs. It was an awkward time trying to get back up, but she finally managed to do it with enough squirming. Her front half was a bit wobbly, but she could walk, and that’s all she needed to make the short trip back to the pharmacy.

A cold pleasure came down on Graphite’s head - Mayflower had given Graphite a cold can of peaches to act as an icepack for his headache. The same icy feeling was felt in Ricochet’s hooves; She wrapped a cloth around her hooves that was kept underneath the snowy cans.

Ricochet flipped her head to Graphite, who was holding the peach can to the core of his head, “So, what’s my next task, sir?”

The can was slowly being warmed by Graphite’s own natural body temperature, and the can started to transpire and bead water down it’s sides - but it was better than nothing. He wiped some of the drips from his snout and told her, “You don’t have one - you’re free to go now.”

Ricochet’s ears perked, she swept the hooves from the freezing water, and stood straight to her hooves, “Free to go...?”

“Yeah, we don’t have anything else to do with you, you’re free to go back to the c-”

“-But I can’t just go back,” She interrupted Graphite mid-sentence, a noticeable worry in her voice.

Graphite was also in that amount of shock where he had to remove the icy package from the top of his head and jump down from the counter, “Why not, it’s not like they won’t let back in the cam-”

“-They won’t let me back in the camp. If they see I came back empty hoofed, they’ll have me shot or raped - they might even take me in as a slave! I can’t just go back now!”

The room went quiet after that moment. Ricochet was breathing heavily, and small tears beaded down the sides of her face; the foals started to filter into the pharmacy from the back room wondering what was going on. Mayflower was right behind them, followed by Rotten too. Graphite didn’t know how to respond, but he wanted to calm the poor mare down.

“Listen, no pony is making you go back there.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing else to go back to,” Ricochet held her head in her hooves and she looked ready to weep, but she wasn’t going to let her self do that.

Graphite looked around and thought for a while. He gathered ideas in his mind and went up and put his hoof on the mare’s shoulder, “You know, I was going to leave soon. How about you stay here with the kids? They might be a bit more independent, but the foals need someone to babysit them, and the Mayflower and Rotten could always use the extra hoof,” Was the first idea that came to Graphite’s mind.

“There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ that bi-” Rotten was about to start an argument, but was quickly stopped by Mayflower; she punched him in the shoulder and glared at him. He sighed and looked Ricochet and said in a low voice, “Fine, you can stay here...”

Graphite turned back to Ricochet, his hoof still patted on her shoulder, “See, I knew they’d let you stay.”

A single tear finally broke through Ricochet’s tough exterior and fell down the side of her face - a tear of joy - “That’s... great - t-thank you...” She felt the tear against her cheek, and was quick to wipe it away.

Graphite left her side, giving her a smile as he took a step towards the front of the pharmacy. Mayflower pushed aside the foals in front of her to get to Graphite; her voice picked up as she watched Graphite, “Are you leaving now?”

Graphite didn’t even get to take a second step before he was stopped. He spun around to face Mayflower, who looked as if she had lost her parents all over again, “Yes, I am, Mayflower.”

Ricochet stepped back, Mayflower moved closer to Graphite, and the foals all started to swarm forward. Mayflower looked Graphite in the eyes, “Why?”

“I have to get to downtown sometime, Mayflower,” Graphite tried his best to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working.

“But you can stay too, with us and the kids - we could always use the extra hoof like you said,” She held out her hood to him, but Graphite pushed it away gently.

“That’s why you have Ricochet.”

“You can’t make it out there on your own-”

“-I can handle myself - I’m the one who taught you how to fight, after all.”

Rotten eased the kids out of his away as well, coming up beside Mayflower and resting his hoof on her back, “Just let the pony go, Mayflower...”

Graphite was surprised to see Rotten speak in a soft voice for once, he wasn’t sure if it was for Mayflower or Graphite’s sake, but it was certainly a great change of pace. Mayflower nudged Rotten’s hoof off her back with her shoulder, and looked back up to Graphite, “At least take some supplies with you before you leave, Graphite.”

“Okay,” Graphite nodded, waiting in his same spot while Mayflower galloped over to the storage space.

Lifting up the hatch, she stood by as the top swung open, and a small blow of dust fly up from the storage room. She used her magic to bring out some cartridges of .308, anything left of the apple bar rations, a pack of cigarettes she said she ‘borrowed’ from Rotten’s stash, and one more thing she needed to traverse into the back room for. All the foals, Ricochet, Rotten, and Graphite all paused when Mayflower stepped out. It was merely an awkward silence, but there was a feeling of emptiness that didn’t allow anyone to speak a word. Graphite brushed some dust bunnies off his duster; Mayflower finally stepped in, and a sigh of relief was hypothetically blew out all across the room. Mayflower waded through the crowd of foals once more and came over to Graphite with a small burlap sack that jingled with loose rounds of ammo and something metal that clanked against them.

“Here, I wasn’t going to let you go out there unprepared,” She waved the pouch in front of Graphite, “And one more thing,” she untied the top of the bag and opened it up, bringing out a canteen with a blue metal casing. On the front was imprinted the number thirty nine in yellow ink.

“Everyone in the stable got one of these canteens, this one belonged to my parents. I... I want you to keep it - to remember m- us by.”

Graphite took the canteen with his hoof, and examined it thoroughly. He looked at the paint that was half-way scratched off, and some of the dings on the case itself. He bit the top with his mouth and unscrewed it too peek inside. He couldn’t see since the shadows liked to funnel inside the tiny little canteen -- and the fact that it was empty. He screwed the top back on and pulled the lace that was wrapped around the canteen. The strap was just long enough to lace around his belt loop, and knot tightly around it. He was focused on getting that strap around his belt, but he was caught off guard when Mayflower wrapped her hooves around his body and gave him a strong hug. Graphite smiled wide, but he didn’t want to give up his manly demeanor to hug back; but he let her hold the hug as long as she wanted. After a few happy seconds, she backed off, and tied his sack back up tight and put it inside Graphite’s bag for him.

“We’ll miss you, Graphite,” Mayflower smiled at Graphite, but was in the feeling to frown just as much as she smiled. She rested her hoof on Hot-Sauce’s head, who was just as sad as the other foals.

The foals’ faces were almost heartbreaking enough for Graphite to stay. They all had long faces and that childish pouting face that was like seeing a sick puppy. Angel Eyes and Gumdrops were making a quiet whimpering noise which was all the more saddening.

Graphite just held the best grin he could muster up and waved a goodbye to the foals, “I’ll miss you guys too.”

Rotten stood back, trying to keep his rotten attitude aglow, “See ya,” He muffled to Graphite.

Graphite started for the entrance again, Ricochet was waving her goodbyes as well. He didn’t get more than four steps in before being stopped once more. Hot-Sauce grappled onto his leg and was hugging it for dear life, not ready to let go of him.

Strangely Graphite could feel the warmth of Hot-Sauce’s hug even through the sleeve of his duster and the metal plating that was underneath it. The rest of the foals rushed in to strangle Graphite’s legs with their little arms. Hot-Sauce, Angel Eyes, Gumdrops, and Blankey all held tight unto Graphite’s legs... only Olive didn’t have a leg to share the hug. But he didn’t want Graphite to leave either. He trotted right in front of Graphite and looked up, he rested his hooves on whatever room was left of Graphite he could reach; and in his lips, Graphite could see him mouth out a ‘bye.’

Graphite was at the brink of bursting into tears when Olive tried to say bye. He stopped struggling to get the kids off his hooves and looked into Olive’s big, maroon eyes and whispered, “Bye, Olive...”

Mayflower rushed over, trying to get the kids off Graphite, even though she wanted to hug him just as tight as the kids did, “Let Graphite go, kids, he has to go now...”

The kids gave one last squeeze before latching off of Graphite’s legs and be dragged back by Mayflower. They all slowly waddled back with Mayflower, still just as sad as ever. Gumdrops held her hoof out trying to reach for Graphite while Mayflower was busy holding her back. Graphite’s grin molded into a small frown as he left the pharmacy with his bags all packed, and his canteen wiggling with his walk.

With a final wave, the foals of the pharmacy gave Graphite a goodbye and a wish of luck on his way to downtown Buckago. The sun was moving over the skyline, setting on the west side as it always does. The orange coloured sky touched down on the tips of the skyscrapers and as the tops of the buildings seemed to paint the clouds into the bright tangerine atmosphere. Graphite trekked down the streets of Buckago, the street lights were all out of order, so Graphite was taking a hike in the dark.

Chapter 10: Everybody Loves a Nut

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Graphite walked down the streets. He started to notice that the buildings had less apartment blocks and more stores among them. There were more billboards and posters along the walls and more belongings littering the roads. By all of these little things Graphite could tell that he was nearing downtown Buckago. Though there were more buildings, that didn’t mean that the blasts and time had left them untouched. Most of the buildings had their facade crumbled down, blocking off any kind of entry into those buildings. Some doors which seemed to be unlocked had been either blocked off or closed from the inside. The shops had all their glass window displays shattered inward, and the mannequins that once modeled the clothes and accessories for their shops were burnt into chard bits of plastic and their clothes heated to ash. He moved down the empty streets, only now realizing how lonely it was actually going to be. The dark streets only grew darker with every passing second. He willed his light to shine down the road, and beamed it straight ahead and down the long, narrow roadway. There was nothing to look at other than the tumbled down buildings and old abandoned shops that had all of their merchandise destroyed.

Graphite continued on, alone still, until he passed by the only store that was intact enough to be recognized. It was a local grocery store. The sign outside still labelled it as “Lucky’s Groceries”. The door was blocked off by the rubble, but on the outside, stood some aged shelves. It looked like they belonged inside the store rather on the outside, but amongst all of the discarded packaging he noticed a tin can - a tin can of pea and carrot stew. This caught Graphite’s attention immediately, so he galloped to see if he was actually seeing this. He stopped upon reaching the shelves, taking another look at the seemingly unscathed can of stew.

Graphite shined his light over the case and picked it up with his spell, spinning the can round for a better view. It was just as he imagined - it was a simple can of stew. But it was that same simple can of stew he remembered eating back in Turquoise’s house. It was that same can of stew he remembered eating as a little colt at his mother’s house. He placed the can back on its shelf, taking a last look at the quaint can of stew. He remembered his parents after setting it down.

Graphite eased his eyes and sighed, the lonelier road became just the more lonely. He stopped to think, to look back, to reminisce. The thoughts were of the better times he had with his family; those times when they went to see the game, the moments when his mom would be there when he got hurt, and even the moments when his dad was there to play catch. The more he remembered the good times, the worse he felt about this time. He turned around to get back on the road, maybe the travels will help him forget.

Graphite planted his hooves on the yellow lines that lined themselves down the endless stretches of roadway and street. He planned on taking these lines on until he reached downtown; nothing was going to waver him any longer. The thoughts still festered through his mind though, keeping him subdued in a forward motion of regret. He moved forward with the warped image of his parents surrounding his conscience. The more he tried to forget, the more he remembered of them. Another blurry image came to his mind, something he didn’t recognize. It was, at first, nothing but a fuzz of a blur. Graphite took a second thought to realize it was something ahead of him and not a memory.

Graphite started to notice a strange figure in the distance. It was hard for him to tell what it was in the darkness of the night, but as he approached the figure, it became clearer that it was a statue of some sort. He walked closer to it, letting his memories just float away as he traded them in for the questions about this statue. He started to see three ponies made up the statue. As he looked around; it soon also became clear that the statue was in an open field - a roundabout surrounded it - and a splintered fence going around the perimeter. Some pony had set up a camp there.

Graphite decided to check the area for any dangers before heading over there. He reached a bench and took his rifle off from the shoulder, looking down the scope of the gun. Graphite could see silhouettes of ponies in their makeshift, broken beds. While looking near of what seemed to be entrance to the little camp, he noticed a guard leaning against a lamp post. The guard was a dark red unicorn, fallen asleep, and partly snoring. His purple mane was messed up and covered with grime. Graphite had definitely seen the clothing which the stallion wore, he looked like he had robbed some pony’s kitchen and used all of the pans and pots to make his armor - that was a raider camp up there.

Graphite looked away from the scope, stepping off the bench right before taking a seat on it. He realized the only way to downtown was through the camp, but the raiders meant no harm in their sleep. He checked around for another way around, the remaining two pathways were blocked off by a mountain of rubble from the fallen buildings going down that street - the street of rubble on the right was still had a small fire burning something amidst the debris. Graphite could see no other options. He checked his weapons and took a deep breath - he was going to cut right through the camp.

Graphite stepped away from the bench, the base of the statue trailing behind him. He stopped at the fence, taking another look at the camp. There were lines of old mats with dirty raiders sleeping on them just littering the road ahead. There was a single campfire flickering it’s bright illumination over a portion of the camp. It lied off the middle, near two raiders lying on the left. The tips of the fire broke off and scorched into the air before dissipating. The embers shined beneath the blaze, burning a mark in the street. Graphite turned his head to face the statue of the three ponies. He could just make out a little more detail from the faint glow of the nearby fire.

They seemed to be ponies from the military, their outfits seemed to look resemble the combat armor of military ponies. They were facing away from Graphite, but he could tell one of them was wearing a fuel tank and carrying a flamethrower in its hooves. The other two he couldn’t make out, even when he squinted hard enough.

Graphite suddenly remembered that he wasn’t there to look at statue, but to kill the raiders surrounding it. His first target was the guard napping against the lamp post in the front of the camp. It was going to be an easy kill since the guard was asleep and wasn’t aware of anyone’s presence - even his own.

Graphite unarmed himself, putting all his guns away and making sure they weren’t going to rattle with his walk. He pulled out his combat knife for a more silent kill. Slowly he approached the sleeping guard, not a sound from his hooves. The guard didn’t notice him even when he was right under his nose.

Graphite popped up right in front of the stallion and forced his hoof against his snout. The guard woke instantly from his slumber and tried to shout for the others, but Graphite’s hoof was shoved against his mouth and stopped his screams from escaping. Graphite had the guard pinned against the pole he was sleeping on while the guard himself tried to wiggle free from it. Graphite brought up his knife in his levitation spell and thrust it into the guard’s neck with enough force to break through the jugular and cut through everything else with a nasty crackle noise. The guard stopped struggling with the final crack of his veins. His body became limp, so Graphite released his grip on him and let him slump down from his lamp post and fold over on the sidewalk below.

Graphite pulled out his knife back out from the dead raider and continued his crawl through the raider camp. He did his best to weave passed all the sleeping raiders, which proved to be a task since the smell of sweat and mud grew stronger as Graphite dug in deeper into the camp.

The camp was littered with empty tin cans, syringes, and bottles of apple whiskey. It seemed that the pigs liked to live in their own filth. The raiders had also gathered some food and stockpiled as much ammo as they could steal. The piles of junk continued to pile as he traveled further into the camp, making it increasingly harder for him to sneak through without stepping on anything scattered across the road.

Now, Graphite was trudging through scraps of paper, old boxes of food, and whatever else seemed to gather in the recesses of the campsite. The lines of sleeping swines started to cave in on itself, starting to get ever tighter to crawl through the middle. There was no leeway to move over to the sides, and no turning back now. Graphite was starting to make good progress, until one raider blocked his pathway with his mattress that lied right in the middle of the walkway.

Graphite bit his teeth, and started to worry, getting a bit fidgety and looking for anyway around. Two raiders trapped Graphite in from moving anywhere else, so his last option was deal with the first one. It seemed like to much of a risk to attempt and walk over the raider without waking him, so Graphite had to deal with him as he was. He adjusted his grip on the knife and held it tighter, bringing the blade over his head. The raider took in a loud snore just as Graphite brought down the knife. The blade sliced through the sleeper’s neck, stopping his snore abruptly, and sending him into an even deeper - and quieter - rest. Graphite held the knife in the stallion’s neck for a short while, making sure his last breath breezed from his nostrils. He jiggled the blade out of the raider’s wind pipe and wiped the blood stained blade on his duster.

Graphite slid over the body, dragging all of his armour over the corpse’s chest and across the obstacle. Graphite set himself back into a low crawl to keep his hoofsteps silent and his silhouette smaller. He shimmied through the bustling city street, traffic stuffed up by the raider’s taking their nap on the middle of the roadway. The narrow line of raider’s was starting to thin out and widen up, making sneaking out just the easier. Graphite took a sight down the line, he could almost see the end of this wretched campground. The small fire was just a few steps away; marking he was just about halfway through.

It looked like a tight squeeze between the flames of the fire and the raider’s that were sleeping warmly beside it. Graphite made his way nearby, the crackles and snaps of the glowing embers and the tops of the flames snapping away from itself and into the night air. He knelt down, taking a break to plan his next move. Two ponies - a stallion and a mare - were asleep left of the fire, another stallion close nearby. Some flies were buzzing around Graphite’s head, the stench of musk was attracting them by the dozens in this camp. He was swatting them away, the buzzing mixing over the sound of some pony grumbling. He turned his head to the right, the pony there was talking in his sleep. Graphite wanted to chuckle, but he notice the mumbles were making the two ponies nearby restless. Graphite took his knife and went to silence the mumbler.

He swept over in with his knife ahead of him and aimed straight for the grumbling pony. He came up close, jamming the blade into his chest. A gurgle and a blood splatter later, the last word of the sleep talker was, ‘Ma...’

Graphite was just a bit relieved, but the two ponies were still starting to wake. Graphite was working faster, the adrenaline flowing through his body - but also causing him to shake and shiver. There was a shank in a chest sheath on the raider’s outfit, so Graphite took that in his spell along with his own knife and went for the last two raiders. Graphite swerved passed the fire, the shank swiping through the fires and rearing over to the light sleepers. He landed between them, the blades burrowing into their foreheads. The knife was easy going, sliding in easily without give; the shank was just the opposite, pushing and cracking through and shattering when it reached its end.

Graphite was panting, sweating from the rush of adrenaline and the fire at his hooves. The shank was in pieces inside of the mare’s head, the knife was dug in deeper and blood was pouring from both ends of the stallion’s brain. Graphite was pulling himself away from the bodies, trying to bring himself about to the sidewalk. Crawling over some rotted food scraps, bits of paper, and shattered glass shards as he made his way to the cracked sidewalk. He flipped unto his back, panting heavily to try and take a breath of cool air.

Graphite peeked over, looking down the rest of the sidewalk upside down. The dark, gray sidewalk was completely empty - but Graphite was glad it was lonely and free of any raiders. He rolled back to his stomach and got off from the broken floor, ready to leave the raider camp as soon as possible. Graphite started in a rushed pace, wanting to leave the foul smelling hellhole as soon as he could. It was just a straight shot from now on, taking the easy way out of the underworld. The sidewalk was very cracked and broken up, some of the sections coming out of their foundations. Graphite just stepped over them, he was going to stay on the trail out no matter the obstacles.

He was making progress, already nearing the exit in half the time and worries of going through the middle. Hobbling over another upturned block of concrete; trudging through the cracks in the sections; and, with a final sigh, he stepped out of the camp and back on the easy road to downtown Buckago. Graphite skipped off the sidewalk, walking over to the centre of the road. He looked back at the camp, the smell of the garbage wafting passed his nose. He grabbed his nose, stopping the horrid stench from going into his lungs. The flies were still swarming up around the sleeping ponies, and the fire was beginning to fade as the wood started to turn into ash. With the last of the flares flying upward, Graphite took another look at the statue in the background. The three ponies were still just atop the base of the statue, and the night still hid their faces from Graphite’s view.

He glared out over the camp, looking at the military ponies standing against the night sky. Graphite realized the statue was there as a memorial, not just a piece of artwork. Their outlines were contrasting against the dark skies, and he could see the three ponies were the three races of each pony. Three different military ponies.

Three races of ponies stood together, just as they had did in the war. An earth pony with a fuel tank on its back and the gun in its bite. Left of it was a unicorn, holding an assault rifle in its magical grip. Behind them was a rearing pegasus, holding a pistol in its mouth. All three of them were dressed in the same, regular army combat armor making them seem even closer. It was like if those three had been fighting side by side since the start of the war, but they served their parts as the one’s to remind everyone that there others just like these three different types of ponies fighting with each other throughout the entirety of the war.

But as he look at it now, it seems as if not a single pony has bothered to care for the war memorial. The raider’s certainly paid it no mind. It didn’t seem that any other pony even cared about who had won the war or about those who had fought in it - it’d be a surprise if they even knew about the war in the first place. The property of this memorial was suppose to be a place of honor, the street it crossed should be in the hands of sensible ponies who will look after it; not savages with no sense of hygiene. They corrupted the image of the memorial with their cold-blooded behavior and simply, pure hatred of others. Graphite felt a harsh rage build up in his mind, he was holding the knife with a stronger magical grip, almost bended the handle in itself. His heart was striking his chest as it boiled his blood and filled him with a burning anger. The city was barring down on him, and it was in his best interest to throw the burden off his shoulders then pummel it while it’s on the ground.

Graphite ripped opened his saddlebag, pulling out the pistol he found in his old house. In his spell binding grip, he ventured back into the camp without another thought or guess against his plan. He stopped at the edge of the campgrounds, just at the feet of a raider lying on his mat. The raider slumped over, rubbing his eyes, and looking dimly over to the figure ahead of him.

He squinted at the fuzzy figure, trying to see what was there, “Thunderclap, is that y-”

Suddenly, his vision went from a blur to a flash, then to darkness - all with a loud bang to accompany it. Graphite shot a bullet through the raider’s head, stirring the other camp into a frenzy. They all flipped over on their old beds and mats, groaning and swearing since some pony woke them up from their sleep. All of the raider’s sights were set on the strange stallion in black standing at the rear of their camp. Some were confused, not knowing what to think, or just too tired to make out an explanation; other’s were interrogating him from down the street, shouting, ‘who are you?’ and ‘why are you here?’; others had an instinct to go for their rifle’s or grab the closest object to come at him up close and personal. Graphite had his plan all thought out, he knew just how to deal with the raider’s coming against him - kill them all.

Graphite pointed his pistol forward, firing a single shot down the lane and into one of the eye of a baffled raider. At that point, they all knew what was going on - they were being attacked. They scattered for their guns, but Graphite already had them in the sight of his gun. With six more shots from his pistol, a volley of these bullets went down the road and into any raider unfortunate enough to be in the way. Four went down, two shot in the head, one down with a hole in his shoulder, and another holding his chest as he dropped to the floor. Graphite released the magazine, placed another in as the first fell out, then released the slide back into place. Some of the raiders wanted to retaliate, but they were either unjamming their broken guns or helping their mate off the ground.

Seven more bullets left the gun, entering the bodies of six more ponies. One bullet through one head, the other six went into any part of the body that seemed to attract it. One raider was holding his buddy’s neck, trying to stop the flow of blood out of his veins. Graphite moved slowly down the street, a look of disappointment, rather than anger. His fury was towards the raiders, but for their lack of competence and care. His eyes were cold and focused on nothing. The muzzle flashes reflected in his eyes, the bullets whizzed around and ricocheted off the sides of the buildings or off the iron armour of the few raiders that had such equipment.

The raiders shot at the dark stallion, their aim thrown off when the nearby comrades were falling on them trying to hold themselves up. Graphite stopped their misery with another bullet to the chest. He followed the road back through the camp in the opposite direction, going from end to beginning while he gunned down the heathens. He fired off one bullet after the other until he finally heard that one noise no shooter likes to here - click. That was his last magazine, and there were still raiders to be dealt with. Graphite didn’t let this stop him, he still had his rifle in easy access. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and gripped it in his spell just as the pistol and took aim down the memorial street.

Line them up, then knock them down - that phrase came to mind when Graphite fired the rifle off. One shot, two kills. The bullet went of his intended course, but it traveled through one raider’s chest and out into another. He swayed to his right, lining the crosshairs of the scope with another victim. Graphite tried to breathe, but his adrenaline was taking over, and his rifle wasn’t going to be any better at close range. He fired another round; it barreled out the rifle and swam through the air until it hit the raider’s chest - tearing through his lungs. One raider called his losses and dashed down the road to escape death. He booked it, screaming, “Fuck this!” as he ran full sprint, knocking down anyone who got in the way of his fleeing. He was paying attention only on running, but that’s what caused him to trip on one of the short mattresses laying on the asphalt. Graphite fired his weapon, but the bullet flew right over the raider when he tripped. Graphite lowered his weapon, checking if he got him; a bullet came by and scrapped across the shoulder of his duster. Graphite clenched his teeth together and took aim towards the shooter. The raider was standing near the sidewalk with his revolver pointed at Graphite. The rifle barrel was lined straight with his head, the raider dropped his gun in a panic and darted away - but it was too late for escape. Graphite fired, the bullet cut its way through the pony’s ear and into his head.

The pony who tripped finally got up from the dirty mattress and was already heading away from the camp. Graphite wanted none of the bastards alive by the end of this; it will only end with the end of the raider’s camp. A rifle bullet flew in and out of the raider’s head - one clean hole straight through.

Graphite stood tall in the centre of the campsite; around him, dozens upon dozens of dead and dying raiders, some never able to wake from their sleep. It seemed to be the end, but there was still an epilogue waiting to happen. One raider was still alive, hiding underneath the piles of loose debris and trash that piled up against the buildings. He had waited for Graphite to turn his back long enough for him to make a run for it - and he definitely did. The poor raider stormed from the trash heap and galloped off to the end of the camp. Graphite noticed the sound of hooves clopping against the asphalt behind him, and he turned to see a raider running. This raider ran faster than anyone or anything Graphite have ever seen. Graphite could hear that pony panting as he ran. Graphite wasn’t about to let this one away, so he started a chase.

The raider noticed a noise, the noise of steel against a hard surface. He looked behind his back with eyes wide and quivering. Behind him, the killer - and he was after him. He screamed, tears started to bundle in his eyes. His panting turned into loud gasps for air when his worry turned into panic and fear for his life. Graphite was nearing him with his weapon drawn - his two front hooves. They ran down the street, even leaving the camp and continuing on for a few blocks. The raider was fast, but Graphite was faster. Fatigue was getting to the untrained raider, but the military laps in Graphite’s training had prepared him for a moment just like this. He was nearing the raider steps at a time. First centimetres, then metres, now the lengths of a leap - Graphite was right behind the raider, who was losing his mind at this point. Graphite dove forward, tackling the pony against the road. They skid across the road a few metres before the combined weight of the two ponies drew the slide to a stop.

Graphite was riding atop the raider, who couldn’t move but was flailing around as if he could. Graphite looked deep into the stallion’s eyes while his hooves were rearing over his head. The raider stopped squirming to bring his arms to cover his head. He was crying fountains of tears and screamed a long and loud, “No!” Graphite heard the pleas of the beggar, but he refused to offer mercy over violence. He brought his hooves down on the raider’s face, plowing through his hooves and hitting pummeling his face into the ground. His strikes were slow and hard, bringing about the most amount of pain in every single strike. He punched and jabbed until the raider’s face was red and blue. He grabbed the pony by the shoulders before pulling him up and smashing him back down against the street. It was over, the last raider left in the camp had been dealt with.

Graphite stood to his hooves, kicking the corpse he just made to the side. Graphite felt only a burning pleasure in his body; a cold-blooded heat, an irritating pleasure, a pleasing regret. Graphite had one way to calm himself down now, and that was with a cigarette and a few minutes of just standing by. He still had a few Canterfield cigarettes in the pack, and he was going to put them to use. Graphite flipped the package open, pulling the first cigarette to come into view. He placed it in his mouth and lit it up, blowing out his regrets in a cloud of gray smoke. The smoke cleared his head and cleansed his thoughts, but they brought back a sense of reasonable thinking. He took a look down at his hooves, seeing the puddle of blood that was pooling at his hoof tips and the blood splatters that went up his front hooves and almost up the entire length of his arms. To his left was the body of the stallion he had just murdered, and the body he had just kicked to the curb. His faced was deformed and painted red with his own blood. Graphite was feeling a bit of regret, but then he remembered the campgrounds. He looked up and ahead, the camp was blocks away - running after the raider had led him far away from the raider camp. He had wasted all his time and energy to go after one lone pony who wasn’t even armed, nor a threat. He had gone after a lone runner, but right after he had slaughtered countless ponies back in the middle of the camp. He could just see the faint glow of the fire that was still going, he could also see the crimson red that flowed down the length of the road. All these ponies destroyed in a psychotic rage, underneath the watch of the statue that was suppose to symbolise peace among ponies.

The ounce of regret Graphite felt turned to a ton. A ton of regret. That’s all Graphite felt, but downtown was ever closer thanks to the indirect aid of that runner at his hooves. The regret would go away soon - he was nearing the end of his cigarette.

Chapter 11: I got Stripes

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All night long, Graphite traveled towards downtown Buckago. He never stopped, and didn’t bother to take in the same old sights. He tried to make sense of what he has done, he tried to understand what kind of an animal he had become. For all this time, he thought that he was killing only to protect others or himself, but what he had done in that night was neither of them. He pondered how he let himself go in a blind rage like that.

As the sun rose over the horizon, Graphite came to a large metal wall, blocking his way. The wall had been built between two high buildings and was almost as tall as them. It was built right through the walls of the two buildings, some sections tearing through the brick and glass. It was mostly made out of large pieces of scrap metal and train parts welded together. He could even spot a ‘Sparkle Cola’ billboard welded between the large pieces of metal.

Graphite looked up and could spot guards near the wall and on the rooftops. Unlike raiders, these were properly dressed, or as properly as one could dress hundreds of years after the apocalypse. They sported actual shirts and pants, rather than the iron scraps of armour the bandits commonly wore. A lot of them had leather overcoats over their shirts -- leather seemed to be in high supply after the apocalypse. The ones that wore pants had padding and patches to close the tears, the ones that didn’t had belts to hold their ammo and canteens. Most of the guards carried semi-automatic rifles, which he recognized from his training back in Camp Sequoia.

Graphite was in shear awe at the size of this scrapyard wall. Suddenly a voice caught his attention; it sounded muffled and electronic, like something out of a malfunctioning intercom. Graphite looked back down to the bottom of the wall, an intercom was sitting right at head height and muffled talk was coming out of it, but nothing that could be understood. Graphite raised his eyebrow, looking over at the guards. One of them gave a signal back over the wall; Graphite looked back to the intercom ahead. Without warning, a loud screeching noise whistled out of the intercom; Graphite jumped a bit, grabbing his ears just as the guards did too. The malfunctioning intercom came back online and the pony on the other end was speaking to Graphite in a very deep accent.

“‘Ey, you there in the black duster. State yo’ business in Rossmore”

“Oh, uhh - I didn’t expect to run into anyone out here-”

“-Have you been livin’ under a rock? This is Rossmore - one o’ the biggest settlements in Buckago. Now tell me what you want to do o’er here or you can get lost,”

Graphite thought for a moment, he had to choose his words carefully, “I want to get some breakfast - is that okay?”

“Okay... I guess that Stripe’s Bar will have somethin’ for you. I’ll have the guards unlock the gates. Oh, and sorry for the rude welcome, we don’t get many visitors this early in the mornin’,” Then the voice stopped and the intercom went silent again.

Graphite stood in front of the wall as the large gates slowly opened, making a loud racket. The gates were made up from large pieces of scrap metal, just like the rest of the wall and blended in so well that no pony could tell where they were located when they were sealed shut. A bit of dust fluttered down the walls as the gates opened and the shaking knocked the buildings around.

As the gates lifted up, the view of the sun shined through the gap in the wall, and the Buckago sunshine casting back through the gaping doorway. He was downtown now, and breakfast was waiting for him just inside.

“Well, we don’t have all day now,” The voice in the intercom stated.

Graphite stopped his sightseeing and entered downtown, the gates behind him rattling shut behind him before making a loud thud against the pavement. Graphite looked back at the gates, seeing a puff a dust surrounding the ground around it. He turned back to face forward, the sunrise was now just a graceful backdrop for something less than worse. Graphite saw that the streets just before downtown were lined with old, run down buildings and homes that could barely stand without a few planks to hold them up. The first obstacle after the wall was getting through this shanty town. Graphite started his slow walk again, his goal was right in sight and he was just steps away.

Graphite passed through the last bit of the wall, seeing the booth the guard on the intercom stayed. The road ahead was long; the old roads couldn’t be paved with asphalt, so the road was lined with old, irregular stones carved with blunt picks and such. Graphite turned direction to the guard in the booth, whom was busy with some sort of paperwork.

Graphite came up to him and knocked on the faded window, grabbing the guard’s attention, “So, which way is Stripe’s Bar?”

The guard looked to Graphite from the corner of his eye and pointed his arm behind him, “It’s just down the road, the two story building - you can’t miss it.”

He brought his arm back around and continued with his paperwork; Graphite just looked down that stone paved road then left the booth area. He trotted slow, taking in the shanty town’s depressing views. The houses were made of the scrapyard metals and woods just like the gate, but now ponies were using them as a permanent shelter. The woods were eaten through by termites, or discoloured and starting to rot. The metals were just as bad, rusted to the core and filled with what seemed to be bullet holes. The houses were poorly put together, simply made by placing the scraps in a wall shape then repeating the step three more times before placing sheets of whatever was left above it. A lot of the houses didn’t have doors in the front, just sheets of old cloth that hung over the door. The terrain was filled with moss and weeds that were growing out of control. The vines climbed the old walls of the buildings, they flowered white buds and other shades of the tainted white. It looked beautiful, but the buds just showed how old this side of town was.

Graphite kept walking. He noticed something between two shacks. A weak looking stallion with his child were sleeping next to each other under a blanket. The blanket looked old and it had some holes in it. The father rested his head on a green satchel bag. It seemed that everything they had in the bag was their whole world.

Graphite decided not to disturb the sleepers and just moved on. After wondering around the shanty town for a few poor minutes, he finally came across the two story bar about which the guard had told him about.

The bar certainly stood out amongst the rest of the small shacks surrounding it. It definitely looked sturdier than most of the buildings. Above the door hanged a neon sign from an old diner. The sign read “Stripe’s” in nice, cursive lettering. The other half of the ‘Diner’ part was covered by a wooden board and had ‘Bar’ painted in yellow on it. This was the place Graphite was looking for.

Graphite walked into the empty bar, meet by the sound of the wind blowing into door of the bar. The inside of the bar looked just like on the outside. The walls were plain pieces of sheet metal, with the occasional neon light poster of Sparkle Cola. The furniture had been made up from random pieces of pre-war junk and some makeshift bits made from the scraps. The building didn’t have any windows, so most of the light came either from the lanterns hanging from the ceiling and the neon advertisements hanging on the wall.

He walked over to the bar counter, resting his hooves on the bar stool and setting his rifle and bag on the counter top. Graphite took a look to his left and right, not a single soul in sight. Graphite turned back to the bar, not even a bartender was there to serve the members. A few empty bottles of beer were sitting on the corner of the counter, some pony had to be here to drink those bottles. Graphite tried his luck, and called out, “Hello?”

“I’ll be right with you!” A mare’s voice shouted from a back room.

Graphite sighed and waited until a mare walked out from the back room. The mare had a short, dark orange mane which looked well together with her lighter orange coat. She was wearing an old apron, covered in grease spots and other gross stains. Graphite also noticed something that he hadn’t seen on any of the mares he had met after he was unfrozen - she was wearing a pair of small, white pearl earrings.

“Sorry for being late, we usually don’t have customers this early. So, what will it be?” The orange mare said with a smile as she handed Graphite a small clipboard. Her smile was bright as the sun and white as snow. Graphite couldn’t help but grin.

The clipboard apparently was their menu of foods and drinks. It featured a lot of alcoholic drinks and other such beverages. Most of the food listed on there was some sort of meat.

“Wait, you’re eating meat?” Graphite asked in shock.

“Well yes, we all are. What? You’re a vegetarian?” The bar mare responded, a bit confused.

“Yeah, but we were all vegetarians back in my time.”

“What do you mean by ‘your time,’ sir?”

Graphite then sighed and told the mare his story. About how he used to live in Carnen, about how he joined the army, and how eventually he got frozen in cryogenic sleep. At times, it looked like the mare didn’t believe him, but he had a newspaper article to prove his truth -- the only thing he had that could prove his truth. The orange mare listened to all of this with a great delight, it seemed that she really enjoyed Graphite’s tale.

“So, you’re an actual pre-war pony? Wow, I always imagined that they all were just rotted away by now...”

“...Well, not every pony as you can see.”

“Yeah- oh, I almost forgot. You’re still waiting for your breakfast - what will it be?”

“Oh, yeah- do you have some, uh... oatmeal? Oh and a cup of coffee - it’s been long night.”

“Okay,” The mare smiled and went back into the back room.

She left Graphite to take another look around the bar. The old pre-war advertisements on the walls provided some sort of an entertainment; he had forgotten that some of the products even existed. He saw a poster for a toothpaste brand that was made way before even he was born -- it’s a shame toothpaste was lost in the blasts, a lot of the ponies were in need of dental hygiene. Graphite wasn’t left alone for long though, just after a few minutes afterward the orange mare came back from the room with a tray. She set the bowl of oatmeal in front of him and a cup of black coffee right next to it. The coffee was steaming and the smell was rather strong; the oatmeal was just as hot, the smell a bit lighter, but just as aromatic.

“Thank you... err, miss...?”

“My name’s Sunny, and you?”

“I’m Graphite,” He answered as he turned to his bowl of warm oatmeal.

Sunny watched Graphite as he ate his breakfast. Graphite ate it with a vigor, this was his first real meal since last night. He wasn’t starved, but this this wasn’t canned nor cold and chewy. It took him a minute to notice Sunny watching him; but, when he caught it, it made him feel uneasy. Eventually he stopped eating and looked back at Sunny.

“No. You just don’t look anything like the others around here do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well your mane is short and clean - just like your coat. You don’t begin every sentence with a cuss word - oh and I don’t think that I’ve ever seen anyone with an armor like that around here.”

Graphite took another spoonful of his oatmeal, “Yeah, the suit makes a pretty big statement - it’s certainly saved my hide here and there,” Graphite swallowed his food before taking a sip of his black coffee.

“Something that thick has to protect you from a lot of stuff. I know that raiders come around just outside the gates every now and again,” Sunny commented.

Graphite finished off his oatmeal, then gulped down the last of his coffee. He got up off the bar stool, wiping his hooves on his duster. He held in a burp and excused himself, but continued, “Yeah, those guys seem to be everywhere out here. Uh, how much is this going to cost me?” Graphite asked, pointed at his empty bowl and mug.

“That will be thirty-five caps.”

Graphite paused, confused and worried, “I don’t have any... ‘caps,’ but I have this...” Graphite reached into the wallet in his bag, pulling out a few pre-war bits.

Sunny shared the same amount of worry and confusion as Graphite, resting her hooves on the counter she said, “We don’t take that kind of um- currency.”

Graphite stuffed the bits back into his bag, “I don’t have anything to pay this... with...” Graphite was starting to choke up.

“Oh, well... I guess I’m going to have to take you to see the owner; I’m sure he’ll work something out with you,” Sunny walked to the doorway right before the backroom, waving Graphite to follow.

Graphite went around, walking through the gap in the bar to get to Sunny. They both walked into a small room, there were no more decorations except a few busted ones that sat in the corner. The walls were bare and the sheet metal was very exposed. The kitchen was hiding in a room right of a staircase. Besides the staircase just to the left and an old door near the back, there was nothing in the room.

“His office is up here,” Sunny directed, standing half-way up the stairs. Graphite continued to follow her lead, reaching a short hallway with only two doors on either side. The door to the right was labeled, ‘Storage’; the other, ‘Stripe’.

Sunny sighed, shaking her head when she set her hoof on the door, “Here we are...” She said in a solemn tone.

She pushed the door open, it opened up to a small office. The office was rusted down and dark, only lit by a little lamp that sat on the desk that sat in the back. There was a row of filing cabinets that rested against the wall to the left. The cabinets were all dented and scratched, all three of them different discolourations of green; the drawers didn’t seem to stay in, one of them were hanging just a big out and the papers inside fraying outward. To the right, a table stacked with as many papers as the cabinets held. They were scattered about randomly, blown off the table by the fan that was sitting on the cabinet. There was a single picture to make up for the blank office space that was hung just above the table, it was a portrait of an older couple - farmers because the barnhouse behind them and the pitchfork the gentlecolt had in hoof. The portrait was old, starting to be eaten up around the edges; the painting was framed in a golden frame with a complicated design carved over it. The stallion featured in the picture seemed to be sitting at the desk smoking a dark cigar - or at least - his same, grumpy and old, brother.

It was a dark green stallion with jet black mane. His fur was unkempt and dirty, years of smoking seem to have taken its toll on the stallion’s mane. The parts of his mane that weren’t dark as night were silver and shown through as they poked through his poor grooming. He was wearing suit that was just as black his mane and a dark gray tie with crimson red stripes lining across it. Graphite was surprised to see the stallion could fit into a suit, his figure was short and very round. Not even anything on his desk went with that hideous shade of red. He had one ink pen that was a solid silver colour, it rested on a large sheet of paper and was sitting just below his name card. He was focused more on his buddy, who was sitting in a chair just across his desk, than any of the work he had on his table. His friend was a yellow unicorn, just as bright a yellow as one could be. His mane was a perfectly styled, aqua blue that went well with his white suit and pale blue tie. His cutie mark was a white lightning bolt that flashed down his flank. He sat down on the chair, leaning against the backrest, a whiskey glass in tow under his levitation. He was taking it sip by sip, letting the taste last in his mouth.

Sunny and Graphite walked into the office, both the owner, Stripe, and his friend turned to the duo slowly, giving them dirty looks. Stripe pulled out his cigar, glaring right into Graphite’s eyes, “This better be the fuckin’ ruler of Equestria if you have the nerve to bring him up here at this hour, Sunshine!” He blurted in a groggy and rough mumble.

“I’m sorry, mister Stripe. This young stallion said he was looking for a job,”

A pause of silence filled the room. Graphite didn’t even say a word; Sunny started to glare at him as well. Graphite looked back at her, still confused as ever. Sunny nudged his leg with her hind leg, then Graphite realized what he had to do.

“Uhh, yes I’m new in town and was looking for some money. Seeing as you are owner of the only bar in town, I um- came to see you as soon as possible.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a job, you’re at the right spot, sonny boy. Mister Stripe is at your service,” He then gave his friend a look. The yellow stallion got up from his chair and shoved Sunny out from the office, closing the door behind her, “Alright, now that we’s are nice and private like, we can discuss the details. Now, I’ve never seen anyone like you in town - explain that to me.”

“I’m a traveler, been one for the last couple of weeks.”

“A traveler, eh? Well it’s always nice to see some pony new in town, ain’t that right Flash?”

“Sure, Stripe,” The yellow stallion groaned back.

“Now, you don’t look like the rest of the poor schmucks in this town. I think that you have the looks of someone who can handle a more... conspicuous assignment...”

“Conspicuous assignment...?”

“Yes, something that needs a certain amount of precision than most other jobs do.”

“Well, I could say precision is one of my strong suits-”

“-Perfect! You’re just the stallion for the job!” He lifted his arms up a bit, emphasizing his excitement. He rolled himself back in his big chair to lean back more.

“Which would be?”

“Deacon.”

Graphite raised his eyebrow, it seemed that ponies in this town didn’t like to make sense.

“This stallion, Deacon, he needs to be taken care of,” Stripe told Graphite, taking another smoke of his cigar.

“You mean like, what?” Graphite asked as he inched a bit closer.

“I want him dead.”

Graphite thought for moment before asking Stripe, “Alright, what’s the pay?”

“No questions asked, my kind of pony,” Stripe acclaimed to himself, “Five hundred caps.”

“I say eight hundred,” Graphite demanded.

“Hey, do you see me swimming in caps? I think that you better be grateful that I gave you a job at all!” Stripe barked.

Graphite sighed, “Fine, five hundred it is,” He turned around and was about to leave the room when Stripe shouted at him,

“Oh and no guns - make it all look like an accident,” Stripe admonished.

“No guns - got it,” Graphite remarked, heading out the room and into the hallway.

Graphite walked back down the hallway and down the stairs, he could smell something cooking in the kitchen as he passed through the back room. Sunny was taking orders at the head of the bar, there were about three stallions drinking and eating at the counter, and more standing about the room. Sunny turned when she heard Graphite trotting by, “How’d it go, Graphite?” She wondered, the same cheery smile on her face as before.

Graphite shared the smile and replied back, “He said he’ll think about it.”

“Oh, okay then,” Sunny said, returning into the back room for another round of beers for the members of the bar.

Graphite walked out from around counter and headed for the door. He pushed the open to be greeted by a warm gust of morning air and the sun blazing down just over the horizon. The streets were different than they were when Graphite traveled down them - they were busy and full of life. Joining the patrolling guards were kids running up and down the streets laughing and playing, some of the ponies were heading to work or adding another layer of sheet metal to their houses, some were still standing by on the sides of the road either too drunk to move or too weak, the rest were just shambling around aimlessly. Graphite got back unto the sidewalk and start his next trip - now all he needed to know who this Deacon character is, and what he even looked like.

Graphite was new in town; he had no idea where to start, so he just followed the crowd of ponies down the street. Most of the ponies were going down the same path, the ones coming from that path were caring bags of food and other supplies like medicines and clothes - there was probably a market just down the road. A lot of the ponies had odd walks; some limped around because of a pain in their legs, others trumped up and down just because they couldn’t walk. As he neared what he assumed to be a marketplace, he noticed the buildings getting slightly bigger. None of them were more than two stories, but they certainly got wider, and now wood was in better supply than the rusty sheet metal.

Just a few more blocks down the road and Graphite finally saw the market come into view. It was just as much of a run down place as the rest of the town, but ponies were gathering here by the dozens. The stands were old stands, held together with rope or just another layer of this sheet metal scrap they all owned. The merchandise matched the quality of the place; for sale were old rugs, sheets and blankets, cloth for clothes, and anything that could be used to hold stuff like wooden crates or lost purses and bags. The food for sale was not at all appetizing from the looks of it; they kept their fruits and veggies out where the sun could rot them away, the meats were surrounded by swarms of flies and the breads were crumpled or even molded at some stands. The clothes being sold were nothing but not; either clothes of leather or strips of faded cotton and old burlap meshes. The sad marketplace was a depressing place to walk about, but the character of such a place was something to experience.

The diversity of shady ponies and shifty sellers was something very intriguing; going around to see each of the ponies rip each other off was almost laughable if it wasn’t so sad. Graphite traveled through the aisles of the market, looking at each stand after the other. All of the ponies seem to look the same, all the same undertone gray or brown with tattered shirts and hungry stomachs. Of all these poor ponies, one stood out in the crowd - a bright red stallion wearing a blinding white head wrap. This pony wasn’t just a brighter colour, but his coat was a lot shinier and well kept, only a pony with money could keep his coat so clean. The stallion stood tall, over all the ponies in the market except for Graphite. The most interesting characteristic of this round and red stallion was his merchandise - two mats sprawled out with guns galore.

Graphite took his leave from the dingy old vegetable booths to check out this gun launderer. He was with a customer already, showing off a side-by-side shotgun with the length of the barrel sawed in half. Graphite galloped over, perusing over the assortments of guns and ammo. Rifles, pistols, sub-machine guns, and ammunition of all types. Graphite was focused on the selections when the owner came up to him with the widest grin a stallion could make, “Well, I’ve never seen you around here, what brings ya’ to?” He asked cheerfully.

“I was looking for a certain some pony, but then you caught my attention with your guns here,” Graphite answered back, pointing to the mat of guns.

“Well, I might be able to help you - what’s this mare or stallion’s name?”

“A stallion by the name of ‘Deacon’.”

“Oh, him. Yeah I remember that stallion. He came over to me and started to nag something about ‘how bad it is to sell instruments of annihilation’ or something. What bullshit! These are meant for uh... self defence.”

“I’m looking for him - what does he look like?”

“Oh, he’s a white earth pony with uh- short brown mane. Always wears the same old stained sweater- something like a knitted sweater. Oh, and he loves to talk like he’d be some sort of a priest or something of the sort.”

“Okay, do you know where he lives, or maybe where he usual hangs out by any chance?”

“I think that he lives in the eastern part of the town. If I were you, I’d go looking for him over there.”

“Thanks for the help, mister-”

“-Pomidor! At your service!” The red stallion said and nodded his head.
Graphite held out his hoof and smirked, “Well, thanks for the help, Pomidor-”

Pomidor stopped Graphite, “-Are you not going to purchase anything?”

“I’m fine, thank y-”

“-’You sure?”

“Yes. Good day, Pomidor,” Graphite turned his head and started a trot to the eastern side of the city.

Pomidor was too eager too sell, and a bit worried to lose a customer, but he stayed back, coaxing Graphite with bad offers and fake deals hoping for him to come back and buy something. Graphite paid him no mind, his goal was eastbound and nowhere else.

Graphite pushed through the groups ponies swarming the market aisles, heading in the direction he thought was east. As he pushed aside pony after pony, he noticed another stallion pushing against the tide of buyers. It was a white stallion sporting a short, brown manecut and wearing a knit, beige turtleneck. Graphite assured himself this was Deacon, he fit all the details he knew about him. Graphite stopped shoving, hoping to blend in with the crowd. Deacon was moving the same direction Graphite was - east. He pushed aside the dirty ponies, and slide passed all the families and intrusive shoppers. Graphite stopped his shoving, but now the crowd was shoving him. A few nudges against the shoulder, a few light pushes, then a full thrust away. Graphite was losing Deacon’s trail against the waves of disgruntled ponies. He broke his cover for just a moment to charge through the group. He started into a gallop and threw aside any pony in his way. Deacon didn’t notice, something like this was probably apart of the town’s usual violence. Graphite broke through the heavy portion of the crowd, now it was all a matter of keeping the white stallion in sight.

Deacon was heading to the eastern side of town, Pomidor was probably right about where he resides. There was no way to be sure, so Graphite kept tracking him through the crowds. Deacon was starting to weave through as the crowd dispersed, his turtleneck bobbing along with his body. Traffic was dying down, traveling was easier - but so was getting seen. They reached the end of the market, hitting an intersection just before the roads to the houses started. Deacon kept straight, Graphite did so as well as he followed behind.

They stepped into the east side of town, a part of the town which was unbelievable - it was in worse condition than anywhere than the rest. The houses were dilapidated and overgrown with weeds and brush; whole gaps in the walls were exposed, letting creatures free to crawl inside them - whether pony or otherwise; the spacing between houses was wider and gave even more room for the weeds to grow; lost furniture was thrown out of the homes along with shattered picture frames and random toys. The overgrowth of shrubs took over the piles of trash and scraps and started up the now abandoned houses.

The last of the ponies heading down this street for the market had gone by, now it was just Graphite and Deacon left alone on the road. The hoofsteps of Deacon echoed around the desolate neighborhood; Graphite’s trots in his steel suit were echoing against the walls of the homes as well. Graphite was starting to worry, Deacon’s ears perked - he blew it off as his own echo but it wasn’t going stay that way for long.

Graphite looked to his right, spotting an overturned dresser laying in the grass and weed - so he carefully scooted aside and waited right behind the dresser, stalking Deacon down the road. Deacon only trotted down another block before turning his body to one of the houses ahead.

The house was supported on pillars to keep it level against the sloped street. A flight of rusted stairs was the only way in or out of the house, and Deacon was taking it up while humming his tune. The creaks and squeals of the rusty stairs under his hoofsteps was loud enough to echo down the streets and bounce its way passed Graphite. Deacon seemed suppressed enough - Graphite moved from behind the dresser to make his way to deal with Deacon.

Chapter 12: The Wind Changes

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Graphite sat near Deacon’s shack, trying to figure out his next move. Deacon finally reached the top of the house and had stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. It didn’t seem like the white stallion will be coming outside for a while, so he had some time to make a plan. He sat there for a few minutes, contemplating idea after idea. He had to make it look like an accident - maybe have the roof fall in on him? But how, and what if the noise attracting ponies over and catch him in the act? Maybe start a fire? But sheet metal won’t burn. Graphite settled for the direct approach - nothing that simple could possibly fail.

Graphite picked himself up, heading up the flight of rusted stairs. The creaks and squeals were getting louder, the weight of the steel armour was ready to burst through each step of the stairs. He was treading slowly, the squeaks starting to extend out and echo back and forth across the caved in houses. Graphite had his eyes closed at this point, another loud screech as he lowered each hoof. Another step and another, taking one slow step at a time. Finally, a feeling, a feeling of falling - he had taken one last step on the creaky stairs and must have broken through. Graphite’s eyes shot open as he fell, his two front hooves planted squarely on the porch at the end of the stairs - Graphite had just took one step too many.

Graphite sighed a sigh of relief, getting the rest of his hooves up the stairs and heading to the door. The shack was tilting over on itself, ready to fall over in even the slightest breeze. The sheets of thin metal that made the body of the house were rusted through and filled with holes and dents. The weeds hadn’t reached the building, but they had started their crawl up the pillars that supported it. The lights were shining through the windows, a faint orange glow of an oil lamp somewhere inside.

Graphite gripped the doorknob with his magic, turning the knob slowly, pushing the door open just as slow. He peeked his head through the crack of the door while he slid it open, creeping inside. The door came open, Graphite took a step inside and checked around the home. A light of a fire was flicking in the kitchen, Graphite could hear the sound of a pony munching down on some food. Graphite turned the corner, standing in a fighting stance in the middle of the doorway leading to what appeared to be the dining room.

The white pony was sitting there at the table, eating some kind of a red fruit. It seemed like an apple, but mutated by radiation and tinged by bacteria. It crunched and squished like an apple, but wasn’t nearly as appetizing. Deacon looked up from his apple and over to Graphite. He didn’t move, or say a word - he just smiled.

Graphite left his fighting stance, standing normally and looked back, confused. Deacon swallowed the bite in his mouth and stood to his feet, “Well hello, my young traveler! What brings you to my neck of the woods?” He exclaimed with a smile of delight across his cheeks.

Graphite stood in shock, not sure how to respond, so he just simply asked, “A-are you, by any chance, Deacon?”

Deacon smiled wider, a twinkle lit up in his eyes, “Why yes! You’ve heard of me?”

Graphite was baffled, no pony was this happy or eager to have a stranger barge into his home, “Well, yes - I guess you could say I’ve heard of you before.”

Deacon was looking around the corners for something, “You must think that I’m awfully rude,” He smiled again and looked at Graphite, “I’ll find something for you to sit on and then we chat over breakfast - I have some apples, straight from the market.”

Graphite looked over at the apples that Deacon was eating. He couldn’t tell if it was their strange appearance or the fact that he already had something for breakfast, that made apples unappetizing, “You know, I’ll sit here, but I’ve already had some breakfast,” He said and grabbed a nearby box.

“Well if that is what you wish,” Deacon rebutted and sat down on his seat again.

The white stallion tried to smile as he ate the apples and looked at his unexpected guest, “So, what brings you to my humble home?”

“Oh, um... I’m new in town and I uh, just wandered on in here...”

“What drove you to wonder into this house in particular?” Deacon brought up with a smirk on his face.

“I just...” Graphite faltered, taken off guard and left scratching for an excuse.

“I mean there’s plenty of other houses all down this street - why not pick any of those?”

Graphite was silent, destroyed with logic. The white stallion came by again, his grin still noticeable, “Were you driven by your orders, soldier?”

“Wha- what makes you say that I’m a soldier?”

“By that armour you’re wearing, of course.”

“The armor? I just found it in some ruins. It looked nice, so I picked it up,” Graphite tried to play off.

“That armor you’re wearing - that’s the armor of the Equestrian Army Marine Commandos. It was based off the Canterlot riot armor instead of the regular combat armor; since it was more suited to their needs during the campaign in the Triolet islands.”

Graphite was amazed and in awe, his eyes were wide and he was almost at a loss for words, “H-how do you know all of this?”

“I’m a soldier, just like you. Well, I used to be one - just like you. We both are serving an army which hasn’t existed for more than two hundred years. Each in our individual way, of course.”

“What do you mean?” Graphite asked. He had no further excuses or lies to tell, his disguise was discovered and he was out of ideas.

“Let me explain. I’ve read records on you, back when there still was an Equestria and the goddesses ruled over our land, you were a marine-”

“Wait, wait- what records?”

“You see, you made your impact on the history and though you weren’t there to experience it - you left your mark in the history books. You became a sort of a legend, so to speak.”

“Huh? This all is very confusing.”

“When I was still a colt, our teacher told us a legend of a stallion who was asleep and was supposed to wake when the pegasi were to lift the clouds and clear the earth below it. I was fascinated by this legend as a child and did some research on it as I grew older. Turned out that there really was a stallion, frozen somewhere north of the city of Buckago. Set for display with five other ponies whom were supposed to wake when we needed them the most,” Deacon grinned. “And, when they needed volunteers to help out at the Buckago base, I was one of the first pegasi to volunteer for the Enclave’s mission.”

“Pegasi? Enclave? You’re not making this any clearer, Deacon. What is this Enclave you’re talking about?”

“The Grand Pegasus Enclave, we were the last ‘pure’ kind of ponies. Remnants of what used to be the Equestria’s air-force. We sealed off the skies in an endless blanket of clouds at the first days of the war. On that day, the sky became our only home. Once the ground below was pure enough we were supposed to come back and repopulate it, but over the next few decades after the war our purpose changed drastically. Our leaders lead us away from our original ideas. We became greedy and too curious of what awaited us beneath the blanket of clouds.”

“What do you mean by ‘greedy’?”

“I do not wish to tell you about the things which I’ve done while a part of the Enclave. I followed my orders blindly, not thinking of what the outcome might be. One day, I realized the consequences of my actions after ten years of its judgement tortured the ponies it victimized. I spoke to my brothers and sisters in arms - we all decided to leave the Enclave’s mission behind and to return to our intended purpose - to save all of pony kind. We used our technology to shield ourselves from any of our counterparts that might come looking for us. We created a large mass of fog around the city of Buckago. Only a few brave souls have ever dared to go through the thick fog. Especially when the wind is blowing from the shore and the fog is at its thickest.”

“That sounds like the fog I had to deal with when I was approaching Buckago. ‘Nearly got jumped by a pack of dogs after making it through, though.”

“Well, that wasn’t our intention, Graphite. Please do remember that it’s a defense mechanism. It wasn’t meant to kill anyone, rather to shield everyone inside from the dangers outside.”

“It’s okay - no hard feelings.”

“I’m glad that you’re so easily forgiving. I wish that more ponies would share the same values as you. When we first descended from the clouds, we were greeted with shock, disgust, and hate. It seemed that a pegasi class as a whole seemed to be associated with terror that the Enclave brought and nothing else. We were often hunted and in that way; we lost many of our best. I guess that not including myself, right now there are about a dozen of pegasi left, scattered around the area of Buckago.”

“Deacon, don’t get me wrong, but- you don’t look like a pegasus.”

Deacon then stood up from the table, pushing the chair back. He took off his stained turtleneck and dropped it in front of Graphite on the table. Graphite looked up to see Deacon was hiding two wings under his shirt. Deacon planted his hooves on the table and struggled to open his wings. He grunted and cringed, until his wings began to unfold. They spread out after being unlocked, his wings a majestic white and almost as long as two of him. Deacon fluttered his wings and stretched them out, they must have been hidden away for quite some time.

“Looks can be deceiving, Graphite. Remember that,” Deacon smirked, scratching his wings and picking off a few threads that came from the shirt.

“I guess they can,” Graphite’s eyes shot open, struck with another wonder from this odd stallion. Graphite leaned back, going for cigarette in the pack to ease back into calmer state after being awestruck twice in the same night, “-You don’t mind if I...” Graphite stammered, cigarette already half-way to his lips.

“Er, go right ahead, my friend.”

“Thanks,” Graphite said as he slipped the cigarette into his mouth, lighting it with his lighter after two attempts.

“So, Graphite - you never really told me why you are here,” Deacon commented, pulling his chair back and taking his seat again.

“I’ll be honest with you, Deacon - Stripe sent me to ‘deal’ with you,” Graphite leaned forward and looked at Deacon, “But after the stories you’ve told me today; frankly, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Did he tell you why he would want my death?”

“Err... I never asked him. I just took the job - I needed the caps.”

“Oh Graphite, you did the same thing I did when I was your age. Always remember to stop and ask yourself why are you doing the things you do. Don’t become a machine, even if that’s what they trained you to do. A robot has no direction of good or bad, it just follows what its master commands it to do. Don’t lose sight of good and bad, or you’ll end up as a mindless killing machine.”

Graphite leaned back, relaxing slightly in his chair, “It’s okay Deacon; I understand that now- Thank you for the lesson.”

“My pleasure, Graphite.”

Graphite puffed another cloud of smoke, making sure it didn’t blow in Deacon’s direction, “I still have the issue of what to tell Stripe.”

Deacon pouted, rubbing his chin with his hoof, “Of course, I hadn’t thought of that...”

They both sat for a moment, Deacon contemplated a few thoughts; Graphite continued to smoke his cigarette, pulling a few ideas together as well. Deacon shrugged to himself, laying his arms back on the table, “I’m out of ideas,” Deacon claimed, “I just hope Stripe doesn’t find you, or you might end up like the last two of his little workers...”

Graphite pulled his cigarette out, batting out the ashes on the end. Graphite looked back to Deacon, worried, “What happened to the last two ponies he employed?”

“Well one, whom of which I don’t recall his name, ended up in the garbage compactor. Luckily the last was less violent, if not as agonizing-”

“-What happened to him?”

“Her, actually. I was pretty sure her name was Sunshine- or maybe-”

“-Sunny?” Graphite dropped his cigarette, paying better attention to Deacon.

“Yes, that’s it! Sunny - she started off working for Stripe as the main bar mare; she had to repay a debt for stealing something from the bar. She agreed to all of Stripe’s deals and, in the end, ended up as something of a slave; working for him without ever being able to pay him off.”

Graphite paused, slumping back into his chair and sighing. Graphite got up from the chair, stepping down on the cigarette to put it out. He started for the door, his hooves were stomping down with force and anger. He was about to turn the corner, when Deacon stopped him, “O-off so soon, Graphite...?”

Graphite, stopped, grabbing the edge of the wall, “Yes. I have a deal to make with Stripe.”

Graphite stormed out the house, shutting the door behind him. Deacon slid out of his chair, chasing after Graphite, “W-what are you talking about, Graphite?”

Graphite was already half-way down the stairs; he didn’t even bother to stop, or look back, “I’m sure you’ll hear about it when this ends, Deacon.”

“What are you doing, Graphite? What- I-” Deacon ran back inside before returning with his old stained turtleneck and almost jumping down the stairs, “Graphite!”

Graphite marched down the east street westward, flaring his nostrils and venting out some pent up air. Deacon was riding right behind him like his shadow; he trailed behind him trying to get beside, but Graphite’s march was to fast.

“What are you planning to do, Graphite?” Deacon panicked.

“It’ll be nothing you’ll approve of...”

Deacon stopped himself, trying to imagine what Graphite had planned - when suddenly, it hit him, “Graphite! You’re not planning on killing Stripe, are you?”

The bickering duo reached the intersection. Graphite turned back down the road to the market, now giving Deacon the silent treatment. They continued all the way to the market, Deacon worrying and pleading the whole way there. Graphite wasn’t surprised to see the crowd at the market still full and bustling as ever. Deacon stopped his begging, but was now starting to mumble to himself. Graphite readied his rifle; underneath the roar of the traveling market-goers, he loaded his rifle with the freshest magazine he could dig out of his bag.

He was sliding right through the mass of ponies with ease; Deacon was dragging behind, nudged and knocked around by the oncoming ponies that weaved passed Graphite. He went from a trot to a gallop, pushing aside the sea of ponies. Deacon finally started up in a spring, coming up alongside Graphite as he plowed through the ocean of ponies. Stripe’s bar was coming into view, the silhouette of the bar could just be seen in the dark shade of the rotten homes beside it and over the heads of the ponies gathered in the market.

The bar was just a few blocks more. Graphite grunted, picking up his gallop to a sprint as he charged the bar. Deacon was left in the wake of his sprint, stopped to catch his breath at the side of the road.

Graphite was running at full speed until he got to the front of the bar. He took in a deep breath, cooling down right after his sprint just before he stepped through the doors. He opened the door to the usual gang of drunk members. Sunny was standing behind the counter per usual, wiping it down with an old rag. Graphite simply went by the drinkers, slipping behind the counter, and right passed Sunny. Sunny didn’t mind, just slipping him a smile as we went by. Graphite walked through the back room, wafting in the smell of the food that was cooking in the kitchen in the corner. Graphite stepped up the stairs, and went down the small hallway swiftly.

A knock was heard just outside the door. Stripe stopped himself, leaving his bottle of beer just at the end of his lips, “Go see who that is disturbin’ my peace, Flash,” he griped.

“Sure thing, Stripe,” Flash followed, setting his magazine on his chair just before he got to the door.

He twisted the knob, pulling the door in towards himself - the door opened to a rifle stock jabbed right at his snout. The thrust threw him to the floor; Flash grabbing hold of his head from the trauma. Graphite shoved himself inside, gun pointed forward. He stormed across the room; Stripe had pulled open a drawer from his desk and whipped out a silver revolver bitten down in his mouth. Graphite was already near the desk when he propped himself on the edge and pushed himself up and over to dive towards the old stallion. Graphite collided into Stripe like a cannonball, stopping him just before he could fire off a round. His dive threw Stripe and himself to the back wall, Stripe’s head smashing at full force against the battered wall - leaving a dent imprinted with the back of Stripe’s head. The strike had Stripe spit out his gun along with a few drops of blood. Two hooves clasped around Stripe’s neck, Graphite pulling the stallion’s bleeding head to the floor. Graphite clenched Stripe’s neck harder, beating his employer’s head into the rusted metal floor. Graphite had his teeth pressed into each other, grinding as he groaned with anger while Stripe’s head continued to be bashed against the floor and his blood slowly splashing from his skull. There was no air going into his lungs, all of it was being beaten out of him and replaced with blood rushing to his broken head. Another round of endless banging against the floor, and Graphite was done - Stripe more than finished by the time Graphite had released his neck.

He stood to his hooves, wiping the blood from them on his duster before walking about the desk and over Flash as he continued to suffer from his blunt pain in his head. He trumped down the stairs, turning the corner too see the bar members still going about their usual business of nothing. Sunny was the only one sober to realize what had happen, along with Deacon who was sitting down at the counter with her.

Deacon buried his face in his hooves, shaking his head in them, “I’m guessing it’s done already, Graphite...?”

Sunny looked over to Deacon, then to Graphite, “What’s done-” she questioned, “Why’d you go upstairs, Graphite?”

“You don’t want to know, Sunny,” Graphite assured.

“It had to do with Stripe, I’m guessing.”

“Yes, it was just business.”

Sunny turned her head, grabbing the rag once more, “Well, okay then,” she didn’t care for whatever business anyone had with Stripe, so she ignored it and went on with the bar tending.

Graphite went around the counter, tugging Deacon on the shoulder a bit to direct him outside. The two stallions walked out the bar, Deacon immediately pulled Graphite to the side of the building, “Was killing Stripe really necessary, Graphite? There have had to been other options- anything then killing a pony in cold blood!” Deacon scolded.

“What else could I do, Deacon? There’s no negotiating with a stallion like that-”

“-Yes, yes, I’m well aware of what kind of pony Stripe is- or was - but that doesn’t mean you can just kill him like that!”

“Let me ask you again - what else could I do, Deacon? I have no money, I don’t know a single pony in town other than you and Sunny, and he was the one who got a hired gun to kill you. If I didn’t kill Stripe, he could have just hired another lowly killer of the streets that would pick you off without question or concern.”

Deacon shook his head again, sighing out loud, “Well, when you put it that way... I- I guess I can appreciate that you went on your own decisions this time, rather than follow the letter of some other pony.”

“I appreciate the appreciation, Deacon; but, I’ve done I’ll I needed to do here - I need to head further down town-” Graphite started his trot towards the end of the city, but Deacon stopped him, tugging on his duster.

“Wait! Before you go-” Deacon pulled his collar open, reaching into his sweater and pulling out a small badge. Graphite looked back, watching as Deacon pulled out the small metallic pin, “This button - a badge bestowed to me from the Enclave to show for my officership - shows that I have chosen to believe in what was required. I bestow this upon you, to show that you have chosen to believe in what was right.”

Graphite glared at the badge, confused and dazed, “What did you want me to do with this, Deacon?”

Deacon held out the pin closer to Graphite, almost pushing it on him, “Take them. Some things in life have a deeper meaning - a symbol of something more.”

Graphite grabbed the badge with his levitation, looking at the badge’s design. It was a polished silver badge with a big ‘E’ in the centre surrounded by a circle of stars of the same colour. He decided to pin the needle right through the collar of his duster, setting it straight and tidy just as an officer would, “Thanks, Deacon. I’ll be on my way now,” Graphite held out his hoof; Deacon was quick to grab it and shake it firmly, nodding at him just as he turned to head down the road.

Graphite trotted down the road, hoping to get through the market as quick as possible. The smell of the food starting to rot, and the poor ponies who couldn’t get running water for a shower started to build up all in the market area. He delved into the cloud of musk, shaking his head down as he entered.

Chapter 13: Don't Take Your Guns to Town

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Graphite wondered through the market for about an hour. He lost the count of time himself. He wanted to get out from the market as soon as possible, but he made a couple of wrong turns and only then he understood how big the market actually was. Ponies over there tried to sell everything, from food to medicine and from guns to simple tin cans and metal scraps. Graphite had been through the market multiple times, but it was the middle of day, and the crowd was at its biggest. Being nudged wasn’t even possible, the only movement one could make now were small shuffles across the market.

Followed the current of the marketers, Graphite found himself steadily drifting outside the market. He neared a building, one of the walls that set a border for the market stands. He stopped, standing just on the sidewalk of the buildings. He was going to backtrack around to the sleepless market again, when he heard a noise. It was a loud yelp, a cry for help. He across the buildings to find an alleyway, noisier than the normal alleyway should be. Graphite ran to the side street, sliding to a stop just as he reached the opening to the alley.

In the alley was a scrawny, brown stallion screaming for someone to come and aid him. He was tugging on a satchel with another pony - a dark stallion with hair just as rough as the stallion’s. Just at the thief’s hooves was a dirty cream coloured colt, batting and beating at the thief's legs trying to get him away. He remembered the little family from earlier, just as he stepped into town they were asleep in their own corner lot of the town. The small colt and his father weren’t going to get out with their bag if the thief wasn’t stopped. The thief pulled out a knife, dull and rusted but still able to cause serious damage. Graphite jumped in to stop the mugging before it became a murder.

All three ponies saw one large stallion barreling towards them; the colt jumped back and the father released the satchel and ducked away - the mugger stuck without anywhere to dodge the charge. Graphite reared up just as the mugger swung his knife at Graphite’s chest, his head was stopped by Graphite’s hoof, a swift punch to the face before he could be cut open. The stallion was knocked back, Graphite swiping the knife away with his telekinesis spell and tossing it behind himself somewhere on the sidewalk.

The petty thief reared back, trying to get in a punch back - but was halted again by Graphite’s hard and swift jab. He was struck down before being struck up, pulled up to his hooves by his neck. Graphite stared right into his eyes, shaking him as he yelled, “Get lost!”

He tossed the stallion back, throwing him into the dirt as he scrambled away with fear for his life. Graphite leaned in to grab the satchel from the dust, handing it to the feeble stallion, who took it with caution. Graphite tried to shoot a smile, but it didn’t come any bigger than a short grin. The stallion was sitting the ground leaning against the building just waiting for the fight to blow over. Graphite stuck out his hoof, asking, “Are you alright?”

The stallion didn’t respond, backing against the wall even further than he was already. He trumped around Graphite, staring at him with a cold glare of terror before taking his child by the hoof and sprinting off towards the other end of the alley. Graphite watched as they ran, a bit disappointed there was no thanks given to the stallion that just saved your life.

Graphite blew it off as just another of the normal behaviours of a begotten town; he jumped back into line with the ponies swerving about the market. He continued scooting through the marketplace when something caught his attention - a young mare standing at Pomidor’s stand. She was wearing an old, brown leather jacket that was collared and had one zipper going down the length of it. She seemed to be quite confused, looking back and forth over the selection of weapons and arms. He waded through the swarm of shoppers until he managed to get a better look of this mare, he recognized her - it was Sunny.

Graphite casually approached the mare. She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she didn’t notice that someone was standing next to her. Sunny looked good in her jacket - at least better than her old, greasy apron she wore at the bar. She was looking at the large arsenal of weapons which Pomidor had placed before her. It featured everything from small nine and ten millimeter pistols to large light machine guns and even a rocket launcher. It seemed that the red stallion was annoyed by her uncertainty. He simply lied back to one of the supports of the booth and looked down at the guns.

“Need some help?” Graphite offered, breaking the train of Sunny’s thoughts.

Sunny jumped a bit and turned to around, but smiled when she saw Graphite standing next to her, “Oh, Graphite! It’s nice to see you here. Could you help me pick a weapon?”

“Um, yeah sure, what are you looking for?” Graphite asked, standing back up from the booth and checking out the guns with Sunny.

“Well, I’ve always had my pistol,” Sunny pulled out a pistol from her holster, one that looked just like a Zebra pistol, but it looked like it was made out of a higher quality metal and was reloaded by a magazine, instead of a clip. Sunny gave Graphite a view of the pistol, tilting it left and right before holstering it again, “But I’ll be making a longer journey and the pistol alone won’t cut it.”

Graphite scratched the back of his head, checking out the rifles on the left table, “Hmm, you’re going to need something with better range than a pistol...”

Both of them had their hooves on their chins, browsing right over through the guns. Pomidor was standing ahead of them, going unnoticed as he steamed and boiled with impatience. Pomidor, trying to vent it out, stepped back from the tables and went behind his booth doing whatever he needed to do to release his stress. Graphite and Sunny searched until Graphite came across one particular rifle.

It was a short, black carbine. It had black polymer grips and stock of the same material; its receiver was solid steel, a carrying handle was built right into the top and acted as it’s iron sight; the hoof-guard was round and lead up to it’s short barrel, and the front sight that was raised to line up with the rear sights; the magazine was a curved cartridge that could hold thirty rounds into it. It seemed to be the perfect gun for Sunny - lightweight, easy maintenance, and could get just the range Sunny was going to need to protect herself, “How about this one, Sunny?” Graphite tapped her shoulder then pointed to the carbine.

“Maybe...” Sunny grabbed the rifle in her hooves, looking over it. Pomidor finally got over himself enough to come back around and notice she was finally nearing a decision.

Pomidor’s eyes widen, a grin formed on his face, “Ah, yes - that’s the ‘Assault Carbine.’ It’s a great gun for a beginner like yourself - and - it doesn’t require the use of a battlesaddle. If you attach a sling to it, you can wear it around your shoulder and fire it using your tail- seeing as yours is long enough.”

Graphite turned over to Sunny, “You’re probably not going to find a battlesaddle anywhere in this shambled marketplace.”

Sunny paused for a moment, taking a last minute thought on it. Pomidor was rubbing his hooves together, eyes beaming as he waited with anticipation. Sunny set the rifle down, facing Pomidor as he glared stubbornly, “I’ll take it.”

Pomidor pumped his arm close to his chest, but quickly caught himself before he was ready to scream ‘Yes!’ He brushed his fur and fixed his head wrap, “Well the gun, plus some ammunition to fire... that’ll be about four thousand caps.” Pomidor said, perhaps a bit too excitedly.

Graphite was astonished, he hadn’t a cap to his name but knew that four thousand was a lot in any form of currency. He looked at Sunny, who didn’t seem the slightest bit worried, “Sure,” She said with her usual happy smile. She reached for her saddlebag, sticking her snout in to gather some change.

A notable amount of jingling came from her bag, it almost looked like it was filled to the brim, but that might just because Sunny’s head was inside it. Eventually, she came back out, placing a pile of caps right on Pomidor’s table. Pomidor’s eyes almost formed caps, his smile was starting to grow larger. Sunny fiddled and counted the caps on the table, “That’s four thousand caps for everything.”

Graphite’s jaw almost dropped to the floor, “H-how? Where did you get that kind of money?” He stammered.

“Let’s just say that I found Stripe’s retirement funds,” Sunny grinned.

Graphite then turned to himself. In the rush he must have forgotten to check Stripe’s office for any valuables waiting in his desk and anywhere else one could keep riches.

Sunny was also coming up with an idea of her own. She put the magazines for the Assault Carbine in her saddlebag and then used the sling to place the weapon over her shoulder, “Say, Graphite are you still looking for a job?”

“It depends on the job.”

“Well, I am going to travel to visit my family in the south of Buckago. It’s a long way ‘till I get there - might be even several days. What do you say of being my bodyguard?”

“Okay, I’ll join you on your little trip, but you can keep your caps. I just want to get out of this place as fast as I can,” Graphite agreed without hesitation.

Sunny shrugged and then smiled again, “I’ll get us some supplies for the road, then we can head out.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The two trotted away from Pomidor’s booth, he was left to count his caps. They merged into the crowd, waiting for the traffic to move down far enough to reach the right booth. They passed a few booths that sold food and water, but none of them seemed fresh enough to eat. They kept moving, hoping to pass by one stand that had some clean food. A few more booths went by; a few medicine stands, but they decided not to come back until they found fresh food. The shuffled on, realizing that they should have gone ahead and got the medicine after about another hour of crowd walking. It was too late to turn back, traveling against the tide of the swarm was almost impossible at this hour of the day. They pressed on, until eventually they reached a proper food booth.

The stand didn’t have much to offer, anything that was for sale had already been bought up in the early hours of the market’s opening. They sorted through what they could deem edible. A lot of what was left over was meat - to Graphite’s poor luck. Jerky, raw meat, and something else that sort of looked liked a giant cockroach - but not a single straw of hay. Sunny got a few strips of the jerky, Graphite kept trudging along with the crowd, searching for a single booth with something he could eat. They passed a few booths with fruits, their lines were piled back to booths across the aisle.

Another hour of walking, a stand came into sight at the end of the market, one that was selling canned foods and a few bits of that red apple-like fruit. Graphite picked his head up, pushing forward against the crowd to get to the only appetizing food in sight. He piled, squeezed, and pushed his way to the stand - taking a good look at what was to offer. Sunny was caught in the crowd behind Graphite, slowly making her way there. Graphite noticed a high supply of great food before looking at the prices; he realized just why it was in high supply. Graphite turned around, waiting for his VIP to arrive to help him out.

After sliding passed one more stallion, she marched her way to the booth, where Graphite was waiting patiently, “Let’s get some real food, eh?” Graphite gleefully suggested.

“‘Real food’,” Sunny joked sarcastically, “If you call this stuff ‘real food’ then your really must be two hundred years old.”

Graphite grabbed a few of the canned vegetable soups and two of the blue fruit, just in case; there was also two cans left over of some corn kernels. Graphite picked all of those up, asking for Sunny to get it for him like a foal asking his mother to get him his favourite cereal. Sunny reached into her money bag once more, using the last of her caps to buy Graphite his portion of their meals.

“Well, that seems to be the last of my caps- I think we’re ready to go now.”

“We’ve got everything we need, Sunny, we should be going before sundown.”

With an ‘Alright,’ the two finally set out to leave the dreaded marketplace. Graphite was eager to leave the stench of this old town - the shady ponies that walked about also helped bring up his feelings to leave. The sun had passed its peak of the sky was starting its decent down west, the duo of Graphite and Sunny were setting out deeper downtown. Their bags were full of supplies, clanging and jingling with every leg motion - or hip sway on Sunny’s part. They reached the intersection of the town; Graphite turned east, looking down Deacon’s street. Sunny came up ahead of Graphite, turning and looking down the street with Graphite, “What are you looking at?”

Graphite took a moment not to respond, taking his thoughts back in before he could respond, “Nothing.”

Graphite started down the north street again, Sunny riding behind, “You don’t like to tell me stuff, don’t you?” Sunny questioned.

Graphite didn’t respond, just to taunt Sunny, knowing it would bother her. Sunny shook her head, sighing, but chuckling shortly with Graphite afterward. The two ponies traversed through the southern end of town, which was obviously the upper-class of Rossmore, seeing as the buildings were actually halfway built with brick and mortar; the top half of the buildings were still wood and sheet metal, but the condition of the metals and woods were much better than the north side of town. The ponies there didn’t appear any happier than the north end of town, nor any friendlier. Waiting outside almost every building and street corner were ponies with weapons in tow and eyes shifting from left to right, scanning the area like hawks. Their weapons never ascended passed a bat or rusty iron pipe, but the way they overlooked the area was enough to scare away anyone walking in their view. Some of them were wearing fedoras on their head, tilted low to cover their eyes with the shade and creating an even darker image for themselves. Their clothes ragged and dirty just as the other townsfolk, but they attempted to gather bits of cloth to make themselves a suit; whether it was the addition of a tie, some type of cloth to look like a blazer, or that fedora they probably stole off some other poor pony. The streets guarded by these dastardly mares and stallions were almost completely empty other than one of these mob members walking about to find their next victim or the small family brave enough to venture through the valley of the streets to reach the market and buy food for the week.(Big ol’wall o’ text)

They passed by what looked like the southerner’s version of a bar; it was two stories, just as Stripe’s Bar, but it was entirely made of hardwood and the sign was made of one piece of lumber instead of the scraps of the left over diner. There was even a light hanging right over the sign and shined down to the front door. There were two window panes at the front of the bar, giving Graphite a clear view of everyone of the sad drinkers and sorry drunkards that were waddling around with two beers in their mouths or just another cup of Apple whiskey. Just like the rest of the town, two ponies with weapons found in the streets were ready to beat down anyone who looked at them wrong. For all Graphite knew of this bar, another gangster just like Stripe could be up in the back room hiring off another gun to deal with another victim.

Graphite was starting to lose his pace, Sunny was several steps ahead already and he was just hanging back staring at the ponies in the bar. He trotted forward, almost galloping, trying to get ahead of Sunny again. Sunny noticed him trotting ahead, thinking he was racing her. She picked up her pace a bit, looking away from him. Graphite saw Sunny come up from behind in the corner of his eye; he scooted ahead, picking up his pace further to keep up. Sunny was trying to keep ahead, her quick trot turned into a gallop. Graphite wanted to keep ahead of Sunny, not noticing she wanted to race; he galloped passed her, staying in front. The two were starting to go head to head, their gallops turning into full sprints and beyond as they raced neck and neck down the south side of the street.

They were head to head, then nose and nose, coming ever closer to each other as the two stepped wildly down the street. They dashed by the brave souls wandering the streets and even a few of the mob minions going about the town. Soon, their competitive edge was getting to them, Graphite thrust himself left, pushing aside Sunny as he darted forward. She rushed back in, recovering quickly, grabbing Graphite’s duster with her teeth and pulling him back. He reacted, tugging on his duster and pulling Sunny with it. She lost her balance, stumbling on her own legs and and tripping - bringing Graphite down with her. Graphite was pulled down by the weight of Sunny then tripped by her flailing legs. They both came down together, tumbling forward a distance before finally stopping against the stone and pavement.

Graphite’s head was being wedged down by Sunny’s elbow, their legs were knotted together like a pretzel, and they were both covered in scrapes and scratches from the rough stone pavement. They were groaning, Sunny was too sore and too tangled to move; Graphite was trying to get free, sliding aside hooves and arms away from his body.

Eventually the knot gave way, they both jerked away and grabbed hold of their aching body parts. Graphite tried to stand, pushing himself up with his cut up arms. Sunny was holding her leg, searing slightly at the road burn. He lent out a hoof, Sunny took it with a faint smile, trying to hide away the pain. They both got up, stared down by the gang. Sunny grinned badly at them as she was picked up hastily by Graphite; the two dusted each other off, helping each other to the sidewalk. The members too lazy to bother.

They stopped, leaning against a building to nurture their wounds with some mild rubs or wash it off with whatever water they had to spare. They both slid down the wall they leaned against, and sat down on the ground. Graphite held his head with one hoof -- having your head crushed against stone isn’t a gentle feeling, “Maybe that was not the best idea, Sunny,” Graphite mentioned, turning to Sunny with his hoof still on his head.

Sunny snickered, rubbing her eyes a bit, “No, maybe not...” she grinned, then turned to look at Graphite, “But I still won.”

Graphite slid his hoof of his head, shaking his head, “But I was ahead of you, Sunny - that usually means I won.”

Sunny grinned wider, nudging Graphite, “‘Ladies first,’ Graphite!”

“True- but, I still won!” Graphite rebutted, nudging Sunny back harder.

Sunny turned her head to look at her bruised legs, pouting a bit, “I guess it doesn’t matter, any idea that stupid isn’t going to end well.”

Graphite looked at his arms, turning them around back and forth looking at all the scrapes, “You got that right,” he chuckled.

“Well, maybe we should get going; the sun’s going down, and we’re already down one bottle of water - and we haven’t even left Rossmore.”

“We did cover more ground than usual, though.”

“Of course,” Sunny giggled, “But we’re not going to cover any more ground sitting here.”

Graphite slid back up the wall, then planted his four hooves back on the ground; helping Sunny up off the ground, “We should find some place to refill the canteen and the bottles before we go any further,” Graphite said while he shacked his empty canteen.

“There should be a water pump nearby, let’s keep moving down the street ‘til we find one,” Sunny tugged on Graphite’s duster, taking the lead once more.

“Sure,” Graphite agreed, following her lead down the street.

The two companions trotted slowly across the stones -- nothing at all like the pace of their race. The looked left and right for a water pump of any size - Graphite also busy watching out for Sunny. They walked for a while, no sight or sign of a water pump anywhere. The town was starting to reach its end, the buildings were starting to shrink and rot, the towns people were retreating back to the main section of town, and the stones were becoming a lackluster colour of black and brown. Graphite lost track of his focus, taking his eyes from the streets to look up towards the roofs of the buildings and the faded blue skies that surrounded them for miles. The roofs of the buildings were flat, the architects didn’t seem to have the right supplies - or the right knowledge - to build a pointed roof. There was no shortage of sheet metal, for sure; but, as much as the material is used, no pony seems to bother to round out the edges or cut the sharps splits some of the pieces had.

Sunny turned her head, looking at Graphite, “See anything?”

Graphite was snapped back into focus, whipping his head right back to Sunny, “Oh, um... no.”

“You’d probably have more luck looking at the ground than in the clouds, Graphite,” she smiled a smile at him, turning her head back around.

Graphite smirked, shaking his head while he went back to searching the streets for a water pump. They walked along another long while, reaching the outskirts of town. The signs of a water pump were absent, just like the signs of ponies anywhere around. Graphite and Sunny were alone together, traveling through an empty section of town looking for water. Graphite looked right to left and left to right when he realized he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. He knew what a water pump was, but he had never seen one before - there were no water pumps in Carnen. Something as simple as a pump for water had to be made of something simple; some iron rods, a head for the water to come out, and another rod for the actual pump. He had the idea in his head, but could never get the full picture.

“Ah, there’s one!” Sunny shouted to Graphite, pointing towards a small garden area, no bigger than a few couple metres.

In the middle lied the pump, the look of which came to no surprise to Graphite. It was a small cast iron rod that stuck out of the middle of the garden and stood around chest height; there was a spout in the front for the water to come out and a long handle on the opposite end that was the pump. The design could be no simpler, just one large rod, a cap at the top to keep the water from leaking, and a few bolts to keep everything in place. The thing was old and rusted, Graphite was unsure there was still water to be pumped out of it.

“It isn’t much, but it’s our only shot,” She said, walking behind the pump and gripping the handle.

Graphite unlaced his canteen from his belt, placing it under the spout and letting Sunny know to start pumping with a nod. She lifted the handle up as far is could go and then pressed down - the handle would barely budge. She jerked and hammered the handle, but it wouldn’t move. Graphite walked up aside of her, giving her the canteen as he rubbed his hooves together before grabbing the pump.

He jumped up, jamming the handle downward. It squeaked a bit, moving down about an centimetre. Sunny looked over, holding the canteen under the spout and shaking it impatiently. Graphite bit down on the pump, pulling it down only to make his mouth sore. Graphite held his jaw for a moment, then wiped his lips; he gripped the handle with his magic and used all his willpower to force it down. The pump started to creak loudly, the body of the pump starting to bend, and the handle still not budging. He eased a bit - Sunny waiting a few steps away from the squealing pump - he grabbed the handle again and jerked the pump with his telekinesis, pulling the handle down and cracking the cap off the pump.

Water spewed from the cap, the handle just fell off its hinges. The spray of water died down quickly, turning into a light trickle down the side. Sunny placed the top of the canteen against the rod and held it in place as the drips slowly filled the canteen.

Graphite came from around the backside of the pump, shaking his head and rubbing some water droplets from his face, “There we go. It just needed a little elbow grease.”

“Good work, Graphite, that elbow grease of yours broke some pony’s only water source,” Sunny mentioned.

Graphite grabbed the empty bottles from his bag, holding them to the trail of water too, “Ah, there’s no pony out here - no need to worry.”

They filled their bottles until the spout stopped pouring, packing away whatever they had filled, “That’ll be fine, we have enough for a while there,” Graphite added.

“Good, let’s get going now - we don’t need anymore delays,” Sunny affirmed, closing her saddlebag tight.

Graphite already started heading out, leaving the small garden square, “Sounds good to me.”

The duo set out again, bags full and now just the more heavier. They walked along side by side, taking in unfamiliar sights, talking about what they saw and what they want to see, and even just sharing a silence together. The trip out of town was one pony less lonely.

Chapter 14: Hurt

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Graphite and Sunny trumped their way out of Rossmore and started heading deeper downtown. The areas between there and deep downtown was laid out in a trail - a trail of the ruins of Buckago. There was no gate behind the town of Rossmore, it seemed no pony dared to venture any further into the city. There must have been a wall there, an invisible one that nothing could cross; but the duo managed to push through that wall, using the strength of their ignorance. They were too caught up sharing stories and seeing the sights to notice that imaginary wall between the town and the outskirts. They traveled a while, the tacky shacks and tumbled homes were starting to return to large hotels and long skyscrapers that teased the clouds.

The buildings were ripped and torn, the holes started to encompass whole sections and worse. The rubble piled together on the streets, making entire urban mountains in the middle of downtown. They trekked around the debris, slipping through the rocks and continuing down the same straight and narrow road. The roads in the city were all the same, fortunately; they never had to worry about wondering off a road that stretched in one direction for miles.

They passed a few stores along the way, none of them in any shape to be sorted through. The stores one of few things: they were abandoned, along with anything that was inside; they were empty, someone came in and took everything they could carry out; they were destroyed completely, the insides filled with the floor above or just stuffed with trash and loose objects. The display windows were either shattered inward or blown outward; either way, the glass was scattered somewhere on the floor.

As they traversed through downtown, the buildings just got taller. Hotels were now hotels on top of hotels; the skyscrapers went into the sky and beyond; even the small buildings were big, the smallest one being no less than three stories high. Graphite was used to the urban distopia, having passed through one just like it. Sunny, on the other hoof, hadn’t been outside of Rossmore in the last few years - left re-exploring the terrain of the city. She looked up and down the tall buildings, inspecting all of their details; all of their cracks; all the holes and gaps or even the whole sections that have fallen away from them. She also viewed the skyscrapers that were rearing overhead. The skyscrapers were part of the backdrop back in town, but now Sunny was right underneath them and seeing just how high they climbed.

They moved on further and further, going deeper and deeper into the downtown area. The buildings started shifting from hotels and apartments to stores and small restaurant corners. They passed a few blocks of stores that seemed intact, but just as cleared out as before. The signs that hung above the stores were now sitting on the ground, covered in dust, or blown in two by the blast. They pressed on, Graphite ignored the stores and started focusing on the trail; Sunny’s eyes were wondering back and forth, when she noticed one store with a sign still hanging above it. She faltered away from the trail, the clops of her hoofsteps stepping away caught the ear of Graphite.

“What is it, Sunny,” Graphite wondered, following behind her.

Sunny didn’t respond, her eyes were fixed on this one store with the sign above it. She slowly made her way to the window panel with the display stand behind it; on the display case were two naked mannequins, standing in a pose as if they were trying to advertise their dress that wasn’t there. Graphite came beside her, looking into the empty shop. He placed his hoof on the window, blocking the glare and looking deeper into the shop - empty, without even a shelf to fill the space. Sunny sighed, her eyes locked on the posing mannequin.

“It would have been so nice to have a dress - they just seem so lovely,” Sunny murmured to Graphite.

“I don’t think I’ve seen any real clothes out here in this wasteland; everyone seems to be following the trend of leather or iron,” Graphite replied back.

“Well, there isn’t much else to wear, Graphite.You know, I’ve always dreamed of being in a dress. I guess I won’t be getting that opportunity any time soon...” Sunny sighed again, trotting back to the road.

Graphite watched her go a bit in her sorrow, blowing out a sigh as well. Soon, they both reached each other again, and were hitting the road. They followed the road block after block, the buildings just got grayer - the sun didn’t help with that. The sun was starting to set, the sky morphing from blue to orange seamlessly and without fault. The skyscrapers teased the sun at their highest points, any close and the buildings would scrape the sun. The rays beamed between the hotels and stores and restaurants, shining down on the companions’ eyes. They covered their eyes, and moved on, nothing was going to stop them.

Sunny still was a bit down about the dress, Graphite couldn’t imagine Sunny without her smile, and wasn’t going to see it now, “So, what kind of dress did you want, Sunny?” He asked, turning away from the sun.

Sunny thought for a moment before turning to Graphite, “Well, I’ve always imagined it to be something frilly, but elegant - something lady like. Like something... you wear to one of those big parties they had back before the war...”

“...A gala?”

Sunny clapped her hooves, smiling, “That’s it! A gala! I’ve always wanted a dress I could wear to a gala - but, like I said, that’s not going to happen any time soon,” she dropped her head, losing her smile.

Graphite lifted her chin from the floor, looking back at her eyes, “You never know what you can find out here, Sunny - don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a dress out there somewhere in the ruins.”

Sunny smiled once more, just a tad bit of confidence went through her; but it was enough to lift her spirits, “Maybe we can find you a dress too,” She giggled.

“I’ve never tried a dress on, I might look in it better in it than you,” Graphite joked back.

Sunny knocked Graphite on his shoulder again, “Oh shut it!” She kidded.

They traveled more and more down the streets, there seemed to be no end to this road. The buildings grew larger more, and larger more, and larger more - the city was surely the greatest feet of engineering in Equestria.

“I did have a nice uniform, Sunny,” Graphite stated after the short silence.

“Uniform, eh? Something for the military, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, it was a um... navy blue overcoat with gold buttons and cuff-links. It had our insignia on the upper arm and whatever medals we happen to have received were displayed on its chest. It was very nice and very clean - it was part of the routine to make sure our dress uniform was in pristine condition.”

“That does sound ni-” Sunny was interrupted when Graphite groaned then grabbed his head, “-Graphite, are you okay?” She worried.

He leaned on Sunny, who was keeping him up on his left two legs. He gripped his head tighter and gnashed his teeth, “I- grr- I’m fine, just... a headache...” He grunted.

Sunny pulled Graphite to the curb, letting him sit himself down on the edge of the sidewalk with Sunny’s arm around his shoulder, “That’s a pretty mean headache then, Graphite,” Sunny proposed.

Graphite rested his head in his hooves, blowing out deep breaths as the pain eased away - a memory was easing in where the pain had left.

There was another street Graphite was traveling down, though it was dusk and the buildings lining the street were small suburban houses. His vision shot, blurrier than going through a blizzard. His walk was teetering and tottering, unable to keep a straight line as he marched down the road mumbling to himself. He was wearing his dress uniform, tattered and unfit for service in any corps. He trumped on through the middle of the sidewalk.

Graphite drunkenly trotted with no real direction or destination. His walk took him wherever he swayed, even if it was right into another pony. He was stopped by a wall-like stallion almost twice the height and twice the girth of Graphite. Graphite tilted his head upward, blabbering to him drunkenly, “Watch where ya’ goin’!”

The large stallion looked down to Graphite, his voice booming in his ears, “Whoa there, I think that you better go home before you hurt yourself. I can hel-”

“Shut up! Don’t tell me what to do!” Graphite mumbled, swinging his bottle of beer around as he talked.

“Listen, I’m trying to help you buddy,” The stallion pressed on, going to grab Graphite to keep him falling over himself.

“Fuck you!” Graphite yelled as he pushed away the stallion’s hooves and threw a staggered punch at him. The hit connected with the stallions chin, barely knocking him back even a bit.

The stallion fired back with a hoof out of nowhere. Graphite was in a stupor after the first punch, his drunken memory keeping him from remembering anything of the rest of the fight. Graphite was finished, looking down the front end of an alleyway as the hulking stallion walked away into the dark night. Graphite looked down at himself, blood running from his nose, his arms bruised and sore.

Graphite popped out of the short flashback as a heard a voice, “Graphite, Graphite - are you okay? Answer me!” Sunny screamed, she sounded worried. He opened his eyes and took a look around his surroundings - nothing had changed. His head was still sore, his face was still buried in his hooves, and Sunny still had her hooves around Graphite.

“What, oh- yes. I’m fine, Sunny. I just get bad headaches... whenever... whenever I have memories - it’s a side effect of the freezing, if I remember correctly.”

“Are there any more ‘side effects’ I need to know about before we get going, Graphite?” She said while she lifted Graphite up by his arm.

Graphite got back on his four hooves, dusting his leggings off a bit before he got back on the road, “No,” He stated.

She patted his back, stepping ahead, “Alright then, we can get going.”

“Good, it’s getting late anyways,” Graphite muttered.

They went back on the trail of asphalt and debris, following it with more focus than a cat on the trail of a mouse. They never stopped moving - there was no reason to stop - stopping would just be a waste of valuable time that Graphite and Sunny need to keep track of. The sun had touched the horizon of the town, the duo was going to need to find a good place to camp out soon. Another few blocks, and another few empty buildings later, they reached an intersection. They neared the start of the intersection, when the sound of armor plates jingling came from the left road, right next to them.

They finally found a reason to stop when a gang of five griffons came marching through. All of them wore a set of black combat armor, with a white eagle talon on the chest. He remembered where he had seen similar uniforms before.

Graphite held Sunny back with his hoof, pushing her back gently. The five griffons came up to them, a noticeable stomp in their step as they tried to make themselves look tougher. The leader stopped just a few steps from Graphite, the rest of his followers stopping just before him.

“Well, now... you’re that bastard that killed our guys back at the pharmacy, aren’t you? We’re not going to just let that slide without some proper punishment. Now, if you will just stand still, we can be done with this as quick as possible.”

At his last grumbled word, they all brought their weapons out. The leader pulled his rifle out, a long barreled gun with wood grips that were starting to split; the two griffons behind him equipped shotguns, one double barreled and loaded for anything while the other was a stubby pump shotgun with no stock and only a sling to hold it around the griffon’s body. The two behind them had a short revolver that was held together with some black tape and the other held a blunt machete. Graphite whipped out the only weapon he had for close range - his knife.

The shotgunners came from around the leader, firing both their guns off simultaneously - sending a hail of bullets flying at Graphite and Sunny. Graphite pushed Sunny away with his telekinesis as he rolled away in the opposite direction. The bullets diced through his duster, cut through the seams of Sunny’s saddlebag, and continued to scatter forward until the buildings or the street stopped them. Graphite stopped his roll, his body stopping right on the curb before he flung himself forward towards the first shotgunner.

Graphite jumped just as he pumped his gun, pushing the gun away when the trigger pulled. Graphite tackled the griffon to the road, bring his knife around for the stab.

The second shotgunner turned his sights from Sunny to Graphite, stuffing the shells into his shotgun barrels.

Sunny was on the ground, trying to get her head around on what was going on. She had her hoof to her head, looking up to find Graphite on top of one of the Talons, with the other taking aim for him. She remembered her carbine, swinging the gun around her and holding it against her hip with her hoof. She squeezed the trigger, firing off a burst of bullets.

The crowd of bullets traveled their way to the second shotgunner, hitting his chest twice, and once to the bottom of his neck.

The shotgunner dropped his gun, falling to the floor while he grasped the bullet wound in his neck.

Graphite struggled to land a blow with his knife, when he noticed a shotgun hitting the floor.

The first shotgunner took notice of Graphite’s loss of focus and threw him off his chest with a swift kick using both his legs.

Graphite flew back, landing flank first on the pavement as his target started to pick himself up. The shotgun was still on the ground, so Graphite redirected his focus on the gun. Graphite lifted it up, throwing his knife at the gunner as a distraction just before firing both barrels of the shotgun into the back of the griffon - blowing enough holes in him to turn his torso into mincemeat.

Sunny got up from the pavement, carbine still in tow. The leader of the pack was retreating behind the cover of his last two remaining colleagues.

The mad griffon wielding the machete was rushing passed the cowardly leader and making his way towards Graphite screaming a cry of war.

Graphite was starting to crawl away on his back, trying with all of his effort to reload the shotgun. He picked the shells from the dying owner and popped the barrels down.

The griffon was getting closer, with Graphite not any closer to finishing his loading cycle. Sunny charged forward as well, firing off another round of bursts.

Shots were flying everywhere, the sounds of griffons yelling with rage and screaming in agony, the loud pops and bangs of the guns going off and shell casings dinging and pinging against the street. Adrenaline was flowing through the leader, but his only response was not fight, but flight. He panicked starting to flutter his wings to pick off and soar away.

Sunny’s fire of rounds knocked the marauder with the machete and knocked him to the ground, switching her aim to the griffon with the revolver.

He was in a panic as well, trying to decide who to pick off first. He quivered and flinched wildly, swapping his aim from Sunny to Graphite to Sunny to Graphite again.

Graphite flipped the barrels back into place, lining them with the bamboozled griffon holding the revolver.

He dropped his gun and tried to split the scene, but he was already drained of his blood when the pellets made their way through him.

He dropped down as the leader flew up, overtaking Sunny and Graphite as he zoomed away.

Sunny ran closer, trying to catch him - but it was too late. He was flying off, but she still took careful aim, going for a lucky shot at the leader. She stared down the iron sights, gripping the gun strong and hoping for the best.

The griffon was far and away from his two targets, but then a piercing pain came about him. His wing stiffened, then cringed - Sunny had clipped his wings.

He lost control of his flight; spinning around, tumbling downward, hitting the corner of a building, and hit the ground - making a small plume of dust from his little crater.

Graphite took a seat on the ground, blowing out a deep sigh, “Are... are you alright, Sunny?”

Sunny lowered her gun, panting heavily, “Y-yeah, I’m fine...”

“Nice shot,” Graphite admired, wiping some sweat from his head.

“Thanks,” She said back with a sigh.

The two ponies took in a few breaths of air just before they started picking through the Talon members. They grabbed their guns from the ground, picking them up and stuffing them into their bags. They barely fit, and there was still sorting to do. They filed through the spare rounds, the extra healing potion, some scraps of leftover food, and any thingamajig that looked useful. They dug through all their armour and anything around their belts or in their pockets. Sunny and Graphite stripped them clean, leaving nothing behind except the clothes on their back. When they found they had finished, they looked to the sun - it was just barely peeking through the horizon. They were going to need to find a place to stay the night before it got too dark. After counting their things, and tightening the straps on their bags, they set off in the same direction they were going.

Down the same street again, covered by the shade of the buildings and the ever receding light of the passing sun. They pressed on through the darkness, looking up and down the buildings for a place to stay. They pondered a bit as they marched down the road; the buildings looked like safe place to stay from the outside, but on the inside, there was no telling what lay await inside - or if there was an inside that hadn’t already caved in on itself. The smaller shops were empty, cold, and unprotected from anything such as another gang of raiders or just the natural beasts that probably lurked in the night. They thought it well over - both of them wondering if sleeping outside was safer than sleeping inside.

It was getting late, and the duo was slowing down thanks to their exhaustion. They went ahead and took the next alleyway to appear as their campsite. They found one, just between an old pawn shop and another larger building. The pawn shop was boarded off, there was no way to get inside or even look inside without seeing splintered wood. The building adjacent was no different than all the other collapsed structures that were scattered across Buckago.

The alley was the same just as any other, a dumpster laying at the end, a few extra tin trash cans, some loose litter along the sides of the walls, a layer of grime on the walls, and a finer layer of dust to top it all off. The sun had just set over Buckago, the alley would be pitch black if it wasn’t illuminated by Graphite’s horn. They gathered the bits of trash and dug out some papers and brown bags to create a makeshift fire. They gathered it into a small pile and started the fire with Graphite’s lighter. It was slow to start -- garbage isn’t easy to burn. A few embers and a flicker of a fire later, the fire started. Graphite and Sunny gathered around their small fire as they lied down on the dirty alleyway ground.

Sunny was lying on her back just looking up at the stars, Graphite was on his stomach, grabbing some cans of vegetable soup from his bag and popping them open with his knife. He popped the can open, bringing the rim of the can to his lips, when Sunny stopped him, “Are you going to eat that raw?”

Graphite had the can already tilted and the broth of the soup resting against the edge of the can. He tilted back down, turning to Sunny, “Well, yeah - why not?”

“Why don’t you cook it? At least give the thing some flavour! I know anything from the markets in Rossmore aren’t the best, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it worse.”

“Well, Sunny,” Graphite said, waving the can near the fire, “How are we supposed to cook it?”

“Just put it over the fire for a while and taste it until you think it’s warm enough for you,” She instructed and smiled, “Warmth even helps to bring back the flavour a bit!”

“Seems easy enough,” Graphite replied while he waved the can over the fire - holding it there with his levitation.

Graphite kept his focus on the can, hovering it just above the flames. The can bobbed up and down as Graphite started losing focus to exhaustion and boredom. He was getting impatient; he brought the can over to his mouth, taking a small sip. It hadn’t warmed even a bit, so he brought it back over the fire and groaned. Sunny snickered, turning her head back to the stars. Graphite notice her star gazing and decided to join her. He rolled over, placing his hooves right behind his head and staring upward towards the space bound bodies of light. They twinkled and twinkled well, they were as bright as they could be taking over the responsibility to light Equestria when the sun went down. The stars were a nice sight, but nothing to keep Graphite entertained. He checked the soup again - still cold.

Graphite blew a short sigh before rolling back to his stomach. He paused to think what to do next; he decided to inspect his new found weapons. He pulled the pump shotgun from the bag, wiggling it free from the two guns that were wedged around it.

The shotgun seemed to be in the best condition from all of their new found weapons. He flipped it over and around, twisted and turned, inspecting all the details of it. Barely a scratch or a ding, Graphite was going to keep this weapon around. He grabbed the other shotgun from his bag, this one laid a lot to be desired. The grip was split down the middle, the wood splintered where it wasn’t split. The barrels were rusted and ready to fall off after another shot; but, they would make good scraps - Graphite could use this pile of bits for bits on another gun that needed it.

He gathered the other weapons he collected - the rifle, the revolver, and even the machete. He laid them out in front of him, getting a good view of each part and every detail of the guns. He had never seen weapons so withered and uncared for, there was nothing to be done with these weapons other than spare parts.

Graphite started to field-strip the weapons to see what parts could be used in his guns. Some parts of the firing mechanism from the double barrel shotgun were good enough to replace the ones in the pump action one. It was hard replacing the parts using only his magic, but it seemed like a weapon maintenance kit was very unlikely to survive the storm of balefires. He was left tearing and tugging some parts off the guns, sometimes ruining the piece even more. He sorted through and through again, tossing bits and bobs and screws around.

Sunny was still laying back, when a nice smell swept passed her nose -- It wasn’t the best smell she’s sniffed, but it was certainly better than the rotted dumpster laying behind them. She turned about to the fire, watching as the can of soup was starting to steam. She closed her eyes and let the smell waft in her nostrils and heat her senses. After letting that smell sink in, she turned to Graphite, who was overly preoccupied with his tinkering to notice the soup was ready. Sunny would have grabbed the can herself if she had the magic to grab something that hot; but, instead, she just whistled at Graphite to grab his attention.

Graphite’s ears perked, turning to Sunny like a satellite. He joined his ears as they turned, picking his head from the guns to see Sunny smiling over - her head pointing over to the steaming can. Graphite grinned, bringing the can out of the fire before it boiled over and the two of them would have to start biting down on burnt bits of broccoli and shriveled carrots. Graphite brought the can under his nose, sniffing the steam into his nose and letting the smell abide his senses. He took a sip from the can, flinching a bit when the hot soup touched his lips. He took a quick sip, bringing the can away from the fire and cringing, “Ahg! It’s a little hot,” Graphite humoured as he held his burnt tongue.

Sunny chuckled a bit, scooting the can just a bit further from the fire, “Maybe we can let it cool down a bit?” She grinned, gluing her eyes back on the star field above.

Graphite nodded, “Of course.”

Sunny took a kind bit of enjoyment looking out at the stars, and Graphite couldn’t determine why. He took his time, staring at Sunny herself. He watched her with big, cheery smile; her soft features; and her odd ability to beam joy wherever she was. Graphite took a moment of pause - was he falling for Sunny?

Sunny was simply sunny. Her personality was always upbeat and uplifting. She was as beautiful as a mare could get, the softest features on her face and eyes that brought about a smile if you hadn’t already had one from her jubilant voice. Graphite continued to admire her from a distance, a smile stuck on his face like-

“-Graphite?” Sunny bounded in on Graphite’s thoughts, turning to look at Graphite again.

Graphite looked away, staring as quickly as he could at the twinkling stars, “Um, yes?” He stammered.

“You know, when you look up at the stars, you see there’s thousands of stars everywhere. All of them just scattered across the sky... then there’s you. One star in one point in one sky, surrounded by tens by dozens by thousands stars and more. Out of all those stars up there, there’s one other star for you - but, now you have to find it. You go from one to the other looking for the one. Then, you start to see that all those stars are the same - they’re all just balls of light on the outside. So how do you find the one-?”

“-I don’t know,” Graphite interceded.

“It was a rhetorical question, Graphite, let me finish,” Sunny cleared her throat and continued, “Okay. Well, when you find out that all the stars are the same on the outside, you find that you can only find the one for you is truly bright on the inside.”

“So...?”

“I’m saying it doesn’t matter what you are on the outside, it only matters how you are on the inside, Graphite.”

“Well that makes sense, Sunny - but, what are you trying to tell me?”

She took a deep breath, “I guess I just have something on my mind I wanted to let out...”

Graphite was silent, still confused.

“Have you ever lost someone?”

Graphite turned back to the stars, his heart almost sinking to his stomach. The memory of his parents came up suddenly. Graphite sighed, closing his eyes as the thoughts swirled through his head. He took but a short moment, before answering calmly, “Yes...”

Sunny sighed too, pausing to remember the moments. She turned back to the heavens, “Well, Graphite, let me tell you a story... I was sitting in my home, back in... Southern Buckago. I was just sitting there waiting, waiting with my dog Nerro - a um, black hound I got as a gift - my loved one Sierra was out scavenging together with some other ponies that lived nearby. I was sitting there waiting... and waiting... and waiting... it usually takes about a day- or two at the most, but I was there waiting halfway through the week. With each day I became more and more worried. By the end of the week, I decided to go looking for Sierra myself. I checked with the ponies that did come back from the scavenger team; turned out that they got ambushed in some old office building and they were separated. I set out immediately, wasting no spare time to prepare myself. I grabbed my pistol then went on to the last place the scavenging party was seen. I wondered around the ruins for weeks until I found the building where they last saw Sierra I waded around the building for a long while and eventually, got lost. While looking for an exit, I found a supply closet - a trail of blood leading either to or from it. I trotted to the supply closet, my pistol right beside me. I grabbed the handle, threw open the lockers and inside...”

Sunny stopped, holding back a fountain of tears and expressing her feeling with a single drop down her cheek. She sniffled, then stammered, “In-inside... was Sierra half decayed and stiff laying inside some metal box. The last thing left was a few pills laying scattered across the bottom of the box and a small tin cassette case in the pale hooves. This holodisk was the last thing to remember my loved one by - and I don’t even know how to read it. I don’t have anything to play it with, but I’ve kept it with me ever since that day...” Sunny slid that same holodisk from her saddlebag and showed it to Graphite. It had a bit of rust on the corner, but it still seemed like it would work.

Graphite looked at the cassette, then at his Pip-Buck. It was worth a shot to try and play the recording on his Pip-Buck. he grabbed the cassette from Sunny, who was only slightly resistant in giving it up. He brought it over the Pip-Buck’s screen - to no avail. He peeked down at the case, then turned it over. The screen blinked, turning red and flashing the word, ‘SCANNING...’ A red light was lit up underneath some tinted plastic, there also seemed to be another little red light underneath the same type of plastic on the holodisk. The tapes on the disk began to spin, and the screen on the Pip-Buck flashed green reading out, ‘SCAN COMPLETE’. The holodisk’s light also lit green, and the speaker started transmitting the recording.

A voice came on, muffled by the poor quality recording and the heavy panting that came between every other word.

“O-okay, it looks like I got this thing working. I know that some pony from our family will find this message eventually. When you do, please give this to Sunny. She’ll want to know what’s happened to me.

I got separated from the group when those... things ambushed us. In all of the confusion, I lost my weapon and now- well - it looks like I’m screwed. I did find some painkillers in this supply closet; I have an idea, so those things won’t eat me alive.

We’ve been through some tough times, and I’m glad that we’ve managed to stay by each others side. I’m glad that you’ve always been there to cheer me up. I’m glad you’ve been there ever since we first met back when we were fillies, and when we were together playing with all the other foals... hah... and heh- you always were the sunshine of my life...

I never told you, but... that one nightmare night? On the rooftops? There - that’s when I fell in love with you.

Goodbye Sunny. I love you...”

Sierra sniffled her tears, then the sound of pills juggling about inside a container. The cap popped open and the pills poured out of it. After that, the recording stopped, ending abruptly at that moment. The atmosphere - silent, empty, then sorrowful. Sunny began to cry, sobbing over the recording as she tried wiping away her tears, only to find another river would come back to fill in the wipe. Graphite removed the holodisk from his Pip-Buck, setting it gently on the ground next to Sunny. She didn’t notice, her eyes were too filled with tears to see. Graphite tried to comfort her the best to his ability. He scooted closer to her, patting her back as she wept over her loved one.

He stayed there, rubbing and patting Sunny’s back for as long as she wept. The night pressed on, growing colder underneath the cries of poor Sunny. The tears did die down, but only after who knows how long. Graphite stayed by Sunny’s side until she finally came about. There was still time in the night, maybe a good night’s sleep could help her ease out of the pain of hearing her loved one’s last words. Graphite was getting sleepy, but he had to stay up as long as Sunny did to keep her company through her tough time. Graphite was kept up only by the will to keep by Sunny’s side and the bit of sorrow he was feeling seeing Sunny cry like this. She’s usually as bubbly as a kitten, but now she was just as sad if that kitten had lost it’s owner.

The mare was starting to get sleepy as well, the tears slowly transitioned to sniffles then to a pout, eventually leading into her eyes getting heavy and her body slowly falling down and down. She fell unto Graphite’s shoulder, resting delicately on him - she had cried herself to sleep. Graphite didn’t mind; he just lied down slowly, making sure Sunny wouldn’t fall or slip off his side. He made it to the ground, Sunny still on his shoulder, and closed his eyes - letting the exhaustion take his mind away from the night to sleep.

Chapter 15: Like a Soldier

View Online

“Dear Dad,

Sorry that I haven’t written to you in a while, but I am in action you know. Me and the rest of the guys are constantly on patrols or on the lookout. Finding a few minutes of peace seems to be an unreachable dream.

A few days ago I had my first kill when a zebra ambushed me on a patrol. I can’t really say that I am proud of it though. It all happened so sudden - one second I see his striped face jumping at me and the next he’s lying dead in front of me and I have his blood on my hooves. At the base they said that I’ve killed an Imperial Marine. I guess that it’s supposed to be some kind of a relief that I didn’t kill some poor fella who got drafted against his own will.

I know that mama is still angry for me volunteering, but please try and talk some sense into her. I get a g-”

Graphite was interrupted mid-sentence of his letter, Blue Jay had grabbed his shoulder and was shouting to him, “We’ve got Zebras coming down the creek!”

Blue Jay turned around to the other end of the foxhole, digging himself in as the zebras came pouring out of the jungle just across the creek. Graphite grabbed his rifle which was sitting just beside him, and joined up with Jay to take out the incoming forces. The two had their own foxhole that sat in the middle of two other foxholes the rest of the team had dug along that portion of the creek. The one on the right had a machine gun mounted on a tripod with two stallions standing by to operate, the one on the left was just a team of three ponies with the usual rifles and a sub-machine gun. The foxholes had a small - not even a wall - but surrounding of sandbags only about two bags high.

The zebras were coming out from the opposite side of the creek, coming out one by twos then fives, using the one tactic they enjoyed the most - charge. The strategy was a simple one, but sometimes you don’t need to go any farther than a dozen zebras all coming out you guns blazing and voices high to take down a defense. The force swept into the creek just as fast as it took to jump out the brush of the jungle. They jumped into the water, splashing water high and almost using it as a cover to hide them from the ponies shooting at them.

The ponies shooting at them were left in a daze - zebras from the left and zebras from the right, zebras coming down the middle - the shear numbers was confusing and hard to manage. The machine gun teams tried to focus all their ammo down the middle, but Graphite and Blue Jay had the same plan; the left team was focused on the zebras on the left and the right was left open to attack.

Graphite was in a further daze than any other pony on the side of the creek; his head was troubled with that memory of savagely murdering a zebra with his own rusty blade. There’s was no greater guilt on Graphite’s mind than that moment; but, with dozens upon dozens of zebras shooting out from the jungle, Graphite was going to have to drop that burden then and there and start murdering zebras again.

He gripped his rifle tight, but he was shaking like a leaf with stress and couldn’t get his crosshairs steady long enough to hit a tree in the forest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the fact he was still breathing could help him ease that awful memory out of his head. He took aim down his scope once more, and fired - one zebra felt a bullet travel through his heart before he collapsed into the water of the creek.

Two zebras had made it across the river from the right side, the bayonets on the end of their rifles sliced through the machine gun team and now they were coming down the line of foxholes to finish the job. Blue Jay slid to the right across his foxhole and started firing rounds down the side at the two chargers coming this way; Graphite had his sights still down the creek, protecting the middle as more zebras came out the jungle; the team on the left was starting to lose ponies - and with only three, it wasn’t long before that group had been cleaned out by the zebras.

It was now up to Graphite and Blue Jay to filter out the remaining forces. The zebras had cleared the left and right, and were still coming down the middle. Two ponies guarding three sides wouldn’t end well. The two ponies still fought on without any slip of grace, picking off one zebra after the other, slowly but surely clearing the creek of intruders.

It seemed for every zebra killed, two more would jump from the jungle to take his place. Graphite and Jay were running through ammo faster than the MG could fire of one of its ammo boxes. Graphite was out of .308 ammo and was down to use Blue Jay’s spare pistol. The duo was getting ever closer to their demise. The bodies of dead zebras were making their way ever closer to their foxhole and the bullets whizzed ever closer to their heads.

They fought and fought for what seemed like days; but after the last zebra had fallen dead in the body of the creek, and the last cartridge had hit the bottom of the foxhole, it was over. Graphite and Blue Jay both dropped their weapons, then dropped to the ground. It had only been about an hour’s firefight - but a firefight it was, and it had Graphite and Jay left panting and beat. Blue Jay had paused just long enough to get back up, and step out of the foxhole, “I’ll... I’ll go call in reinforcements... Y-you stay here, Graphite- guard the creek just in case more decide to show up,” Blue Jay ordered before running off to forward base that was just a hike back.

Graphite just saluted, too tired to speak a word over his panting. Jay grabbed his gun before taking a running start and taking off back to the base. Graphite watched him fly off for just a moment before he slumped deeper into the trench; his mind filling with doubts. It was just a few days ago that he had killed his first zebra, and just a few moments ago he had killed twenty and more - but this is what he had signed up for when he joined the military. He knew that going into service would mean he would have to kill a zebra or two, but it never occurred to him that it would happen to him - or that it would feel this agonizing when he had finished. He started to question himself - he was a sharpshooter; he was hoof-picked out of hundreds of other soldiers specifically for his ability to kill others with precision and without fault. He had killed countless lives in that one foxhole, but it was to protect others; but the only way to protect the lives of these few ponies was to take the lives of many more; but these lives taken had families of their own. Graphite couldn’t take this madness in his head. He slapped his hooves against his face and sighed, taking his mind away from itself by looking down the creek.

In the creek, floating and bobbing along the unsettled surface of the water, lay the bodies of the zebras; the creek running red with their blood. Not a single zebra that came out of that jungle lived to tell the tale. The silence of the dead did not make for good company for the lonely stallion sitting in his foxhole. He kept his eyes shut and his ears closed; he didn’t want to look down that red river any longer than he had to, nor did he want to even acknowledge it.

Graphite looked over to his side. In the foxhole next to him lied the dead machine gun crew and the two zebras who managed to make it across. All of the bodies were riddled with bullets from Blue Jay’s sub-machine gun. The only thing which distinguished them from each other now was what was left of their uniforms. They were shredded and stained red, their bodies no different. Graphite took a peek down the other side of his foxhole, the team of three were all lying dead in their trench as well. There was no telling which one of those bodies sitting at the bottom of that foxhole was pony or zebra - their fur was covered in red blood and their uniforms were ripped apart by the storm of bullets and rounds. It didn’t take long to notice all these dead bodies that seemed to abound a war zone were all alike - no matter if it was pony or zebra, they all bled - and their blood was everywhere. What was war to prove other than how many ponies can we kill off in ‘x’ amount of time.

Graphite needed to get his mind off these thoughts before he ended up deciding to join the crowd of sunken swimmers that were making their way down with the flow of the creek. He sunk all the way down into his foxhole, tilting his helmet over his eyes and looking at nothing but the darkness of the inside of his helmet. He wasn’t going to look away from his own dark cave until Blue Jay came back around to free him from this hellhole. Now, with nothing to look at, his mind was free to wonder again. He came to a thought of his parents - what did they make of all of this? He was confident they did not approve of him signing up for the army; but now that their only son had gone to fight in a war, did his parents think any better of him? They could be proud of his bravery, or despise his risk of self. At that time, another thought - a short term memory. He peeked from his helmet even though he told himself he wouldn’t, and looked to the back of his foxhole.

Graphite’s letter to his parents was sitting crumpled under the dirt, one line scratched across it when Jay interrupted him mid-word. It seemed appropriate enough to go ahead and finish his letter before he mailed it home. He dug around for his pencil, then continued his letter.

“-I get a good-”

Graphite was thrown off once again by the same stallion from before - Blue Jay. He came down from his flight and landed just aside the edge of the foxhole and shouted out to Graphite, “Graphite! Come on, I called in for reinforcements, and they wanna see us.”

Graphite dropped his pencil, folding his letter, and putting it deep into his jacket’s pocket. Jay helped Graphite up from his foxhole, brushing off a few bits of dirt before they both went back to see the reinforcements. Jay lead Graphite hurriedly, it seemed whatever it was he needed was very important. It was only a short walk until they entered into the woods where a fairly large fire team was waiting behind an older pony. The gruff stallion was joined by a slightly younger stallion next to him, who was smoking a cigarette. The older stallion came up to the duo with a salute, “Second Lieutenant Threepwood - and might I say, you two did a fine job!” He announced to Graphite and Jay.

Graphite and Jay both saluted as he did, standing at better attention, “Thank you, sir!” They both replied in a shouted harmony.

“At ease, soldiers,” The lieutenant commanded.

His eyes focused passed Graphite and Jay and went down through the woods to where the creek was just in sight. The bodies of the zebras could still be seen from that small view - there was enough of them lying dead for at least one of them to be seen at any distance. He looked back to Graphite and Jay, shooing away a nosey fly, “I’m guessing you two are to blame for all of that,” He mentioned, his eyes pointed to the creek.

Graphite looked back to the creek, then back to the lieutenant, “I think so, sir,” He answered.

“I see- well - that is a mighty fine job you two did, indeed,” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Something like that deserves an award - consider yourselves promoted!”

He gave off another salute, before leaving them off with a nod and naming off their new ranks as Corporal Blue Jay and Private First Class for Graphite. The two saluted back, keeping their smiles repressed to keep their heroic demeanor about them. The lieutenant went on to the rest of the reinforcements, along with his companion with his cigarette still in his chapped lips. He hurried to the lieutenant, tapping him on his shoulder and mumbling a few sentences before he turned back to Jay and Graphite.

“...And one more thing,” Threepwood added, “The boys here are from the Trottingham Regiment - you marines all get a free leave off this island,” He gave a quick nod, along with his buddy, and went on into the crowd of soldiers standing by for orders.

The Trottingham didn’t seem fit to watch the jungle, in Graphite’s mind. They seemed to high standard for any normal, grizzled soldier to handle the jungle. Their uniforms were new, tidy, and intact instead of old, battered, and beaten. They were almost happy to be here; they shared smiles and laughs, telling stories about their vacation to the Triolet Islands. Graphite hoped they’d realize the middle of the war zone wasn’t the best vacation spot in the world - but, at the same time, hoped the newcomers wouldn’t be blown to bits on the first day.

Their weapons seemed to fit their persona as well, looking as fresh as they the day they came off the assembly line. They also seemed to be brand new - weapons Graphite hadn’t seen any of the marines use. It was long and boxy, the grip and handle made of a smooth wood; the remaining ends of the gun were a black steel that was clean cut, unlike the shanty cuts of the sub-machine guns; the magazine was also at the back of the gun instead of right ahead of the trigger - a very odd design to Graphite. Graphite turned away from the new arrivals, the last thought of them being the most likely outcome of them becoming dead on arrival.

Jay turned to Graphite; a big smile on his face and his hoof extended out - a hoofshake seemed appropriate for just this occasion. Graphite grabbed his friend’s hoof and shook it firmly, sharing the hardy smile with Jay. Blue Jay pulled Graphite closer to pat him on the back, before he went off to wherever he was heading. Graphite stayed back a moment to breath. He looked back to the creek, then up at the sky, the sun was shining brighter and brighter in his eyes.

Just two more days until the boat arrived to take them home, and Graphite was grabbing all his supplies and stuffing them inside a green, burlap duffel bag that he came to the island with. He was joined by some other marines, just as eager to pack their things and jump the island as Graphite was. They were stuffing things in their bags without any pause between items, hoping the sooner they pack the sooner they can leave. The boat was said to arrive just offshore of the eastern beach. Graphite was looking to get to the beach at eventually during the whenever time of day; it didn’t to Graphite after seeing the message he had received just before he started packing.

“OW!” Screamed Graphite in pain as he retracted his hoof, waking from his dream.

A burning pain had hit his hoof - his hoof trailed just too close to their campfire while he was sleeping and was about to burn the tip of his hoof off. Graphite shook his hoof, hoping the pain would numb off or maybe the wind made from the shaking would cool it off. He put his hoof tip in his mouth a bit then shook it again, placing the hoof against his stomach and holding it there until the burning went away. He closed his eyes again, trying to get back to sleep again.

Graphite brought his helmet down over his eyes with one hoof to block the sun from getting in his eyes; his other hoof, holding the papers he had received from HQ -- he couldn’t help but feel this slight heated feeling in this hoof as he held the papers. He was sitting on a wooden supply crate filled with .30 calibre rounds. Beside him. Sitting in the cool sand, was his duffel bag which was filled with everything he brought with him to that island and then some: a hygiene kit to keep up with everything he need to keep more or less clean on the island including some bars of soap and a toothbrush, his trusty .308 rifle he came out of sharpshooter training with, a spare pair of clothes, and some pretty seashells he came across while scouting the beaches. He was sitting on the beach on his crate, waiting for the boat to come by and pick him up off the island.

He was sitting on the shore, his hooves resting in the sand without movement in any direction. A sound of hoofsteps came treading through the sand, the stomps spreading the grains of sand under the hoof. Graphite looked at his hooves - a distinct lack of movement. He looked behind him - Blue Jay was walking towards him with a lot of movement. He was toting along with him a duffel bag similar to Graphite’s, something of a standard. He came up beside Graphite, resting his hoof on his back, “Just a bit longer and we get a one way trip off this damn island. Can’t wait to get back to Cloudsdale - right where my girl is waiting for me. I think I’ll take her to a nice dinner... or maybe we can hit the club- I’m not sure. What about you, Graphite? Have any plans when we hop of the ship?”

Graphite sat still, his pose had him facing down the ocean’s waves. He didn’t turn to Jay, but he responded, “Well, I got some papers from command, they’re- um... going to send me to special training.”

Graphite’s face seemed blank, Jay wasn’t sure how Graphite felt about this - but he wasn’t happy. Jay patted his back, “I’m sure you’ll have fun,” He joked, trying to cheer Graphite up. “I don’t know much about that special ops stuff, but it has to be pretty... um- special, right?”

“I guess you’re right about that one,” Graphite grinned.

“Yep...” Blue Jay filled in the silence as he lied down on his back, resting down in the sand of the beach.

Graphite didn’t want to tell him that he would never see his parents - it was straight to training right off the boat for him. Graphite sighed, the boat nowhere in sight. This gave Graphite more time to think of his parents - who were waiting eagerly for their only son to come home. They were going to hold their enthusiasm another while longer. He wasn’t sure how long his ‘special training’ would last, but he had a gut feeling it wasn’t going to be in a week’s time. These thoughts always made their way back into his mind for whatever reason they found reason for. He stared down the ocean water, then up the horizon and to the skies where the sun was resting.

The morning sun was rearing it’s bright eyes over Graphite and Sunny’s heads. Graphite dimly looked up and around, a sudden awakening after sleeping in an alleyway was never the best of mornings. Sunny was still beside him; she was flinching slightly from the sun beating into her eyes, but she wasn’t going to wake up without some extra help. Graphite leaned over, giving Sunny a light shake from her shoulder. Sunny sleepily swatted away Graphite’s hoof, trying to tuck herself back into her arms. He shook her again, a bit more vigorously, telling her to wake up. Eventually, Sunny broke under Graphite’s bothersome stress and woke up, flipping over on her back to find the sun was blazing in her eyes.

She brought her hoof over her eyes, blocking out the rays the best she could. Graphite got up from the floor, stretching out every limb he has - a few bones cracking back into place. After snapping his back into place, he let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes before kicking out whatever embers were still glowing from the fire.

Chapter 16: Old Time Feeling

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Graphite had the can of vegetable soup in his spell, holding it near his mouth as he took it sip by sip. It was cold and slightly soggy, but it did taste better since they cooked it last night. He drank it down; but before he slurped it all down, he turned Sunny, who was sitting quietly just a scoot away.

Sunny didn’t eat anything, even when Graphite offered. For the rest of the morning, she sat with the gray metal holotape clutched in her hooves. She looked at it as if the soul of her loved one was trapped in there - it might as well be, because she wasn’t going to let it go.

It was painful for Graphite to see Sunny like this, even if he didn’t show it on the outside. After he finished his can of soup, he remembered about the Pip-Buck’s radio - perhaps some music could cheer up Sunny.

Graphite brought up his Pip-Buck and looked at the radio signals section. What he hadn’t noticed was that a new radio station had appeared - ‘89.2 FM’. Graphite put in his earbud and switched to the station.

The station played a cheery rock’n’roll song instead of the usual jazz and swing on the other station. This song had no lyrics, just a cheery tune made up from a guitar, saxophone, set of drums, and ponies clapping their hooves together in unison. It was just the upbeat tempo that could cheer any pony up, and make a room dance along.

Graphite removed his bud from the Pip-Buck and let the music fill the alleyway. The sound wasn’t that of a high quality since the recording was probably hundreds of years old, and his Pip-Buck wasn’t really meant for playing stuff out loud.

The cheery music did make Sunny look up at Graphite who was looking back at her and bobbing his head in the rhythm of the music. She wasn’t really amused by it and just sighed a low sigh. Sunny put the holotape back in her bag and looked over at her companion again.

“Listen, I’m sorry for what happened in the last evening. I didn’t mean to flow out in emotions like that. Just that-”

“It’s okay, Sunny. I understand,” Graphite nodded, “I also have some ponies who I miss.”

“Really...? Who?”

“Well, my friends from the army days. My mama and papa. The last I saw of them was my father’s remains lying on his bed, and I never found out where my mother had gone. I’m positive my friends must be dead by now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” Sunny frowned even further.

“Hey, it’s okay. It happened long before you were even born,” Graphite assured her and started to pack up the guns in his bag. “Listen, maybe we should go already. I think that this alleyway doesn’t seem to bring up the best in us.”

“I guess so...” Sunny groaned with a hung head as she also started to pack up.

Very soon, they were both ready to go and walked out on the street. Graphite left his radio on which kept playing some cheerful tunes to try and change their demeanor from low and hopeless to something just happy enough to get them through the day without feeling like it was the end of the world -- since that day had already come and gone.

The street looked just as abandoned as yesterday - and the day before. In the daylight, the area seemed different to Graphite; it seemed that if someone would bring up the map, he could pinpoint their location to the last inch. The city was open and bright, the sun’s reflections off the few remaining glass windows of the large buildings just made the city brighter. After a few seconds of thinking, he turned to Sunny.

“Sunny, do you mind if we make a slight detour?”

“Um- sure, why not? We have all the time in the world right now, right?” Sunny said with a sad smile before blowing a short sigh.

“Cheer up, I think that you might like where we’re heading,” Graphite smiled meekly.

Graphite then took up the role of the leader and Sunny followed him with a face that could make a grown stallion cry. Graphite tried to not look at her, but didn’t want to keep her secluded from their group of two. Graphite wouldn’t say a word, just look back for a moment to check on her - maybe pass a quick smile if she noticed. The music continued to play, skipping a few seconds every now and again. They moved down the streets, the streets that continued to be overshadowed more and more by the ever larger buildings along the sides of it.

After doing a long bit of walking, they both came up to a large gray building. It seemed like it was about four or five stories high. The one building that stood out from the rest. The front was was riddled with Gaelic designs, the carvings were laced around a large, arched window that was stained in a volley of warm colours; the actual walls of the building were dim white bricks that were also covered in the lacy, criss-cross pattern; all the designs and fancy linings were all trumped by a large, bright red sign that hung over the entrance like a canopy. The sign itself was as regaling as the building - golden laces that traveled across the edges of the sign and along the linings of the letter board, the golden ridges were mixed together with fiery colours of red and orange that made up wave patterns along the top of the frontward letter board; all of the designs consisted of little lights that weren’t going to turn on anytime soon. The bottom of the canopy’s underside was also made of dozens of little lights that would never going to turn on seeing as they had all been shattered, their remnants carpeting the floor below. Above the sign hanging over the entrance hung another sign - a long, slender sign that went up the height of the building and was made up of the same fancy and fiery design of the canopy. Both signs had in big, bright, and bold letters the name ‘Buckago’.

Graphite reached down to his noisy Pip-Buck, turning off the music before he opened the old wooden doors with a creak, entering into the building and letting Sunny go inside first.

“What is this place?” Sunny asked as she looked around.

“This is the Buckago theatre - or what’s left of it.”

The foyer was quite like a palace, the whole thing made of fine marble or red silk carpets. The inside had three stories available that could be accessed through one large staircase that was split into two sections by a golden rail that was capped off at the bottom by a marble end-piece - two golden rails were also going up each side of the staircase and customized in that regal Gaelic design. The foyer was very open, the second and third floor had catwalks that went around the middle of the room; the second floor had a marble railing along the ledge that was the same colour as the walls, while the third floor had a golden railing along the ledge. There were columns of marble that went up the corners of the room and along the sides that went up to the top of the building right before they were capped off along an edge and the rest was empty space for the large dome above. Below, in the middle of the room, was a large middle chandelier - it had fallen from it’s chains years ago. It made a great centre piece, though, it would’ve looked nicer if it was on the ceiling instead of scattered along the floor.

Sunny turned to Graphite, “...And what are we doing here?”

“Well, I wanted to see if the building is still standing. Now that I know it is - I have something else to show you,” Graphite told her, getting ahead and leading on again.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a surprise - don’t worry!”

Sunny just sighed and followed as Graphite showed that it was time to move again. They both walked up the first row of stairs, filing down through a big doorway into an abandoned hallway. The hallway was filled with old and dusty movie posters that were displayed along the hallway behind thick glass plates and a Gaelic, twisty wooden frame. There were posters for every great classic and posters for those amazing indie films by ponies who will now go forgotten. The celling had some cracks going along the ridges and linings of the red and gold striped wallpaper; the red carpet definitely looked like it could use some cleaning, but that wasn’t what had Graphite on the move. They continued until they reached another double door at the end of the hallway.

Graphite opened the door for Sunny, letting her go first once again, reveling a large room filled with rows of soft seats and a large set of curtains that could only foreshadow the grand stage that lay behind it. The room was dark - too dark - Sunny almost couldn’t see her own nose between her eyes.

“Okay Sunny, pick whatever seat you like and I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Graphite, wait-” Sunny tried to blurt out, but the door had shut behind her and Graphite had vanished.

Sunny continued down the room between the rows of seats with her hoof extended in front of her. She really didn’t like poking around the dark like this, but eventually she took a seat after wading around for a while and waited for what was about to happen.

Sunny sat on the seat for a few moments - when something started to move in the dark. She receded back into the cushion of her chair. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear something swooshing through the shadows. Suddenly and abruptly, a loud thunk of a noise came from somewhere behind her. She didn’t want to look towards the noise, but reflexes overtook her will and she flinched - turning her head behind her. The room was still pitch black, and nothing seemed to be lurking behind her.

Without waning, a beam of bright light fired through the room from behind the mare. Sunny turned her head and looked back again. The beam came from a small window at the back of the room, another story above her.

Amongst the beams of light she noticed a figure of a pony pointing her to turn back. She obeyed the strange figure and looked her front. The curtains had risen from the stage, the wall in front of her had lit up and saw an image projected on it.

It was a picture of three blue diamonds and a text underneath; “This film is brought to you by the Ministry of Image - safeguarding the freedom and minds of all Equestria’s citizens.”

After the short message, a reel started - narrated by a generic stallion with a crisp and deep voice. It was a newsreel for the Equestrian military, the announcer coming on as he reported on the current condition of the past war. There was a map of the Triolet Islands, arrows converging on the body of islands showed that the marines were moving in to the island along with the newly found commando regiment. It gave another quick line before it cut off and continued with the standard reel.

A faint smell of smoke had flown into the room. Sunny looked behind herself once more, facing the projector, and looked into the window to see smoke pluming out of it. Graphite was kicked back in the collapsible metal chair he had found next to the projector; he had a reel spooling around the projector and a cigarette popped in his mouth. It was going to be another minute before the reel had reset, so Graphite took this time to look about the abandoned projector room.

To his right was the cheap iron rack that had the film reels organized along the shelves. It was against the wall, slightly shifted outward after something had pulled it from the wall or something blown it away from the wall. To the left was another projector - smashed to bits for whatever reason some pony had smashed a perfectly good projector. Either way, its bits were swept against the left wall and the projector was left to rust in the forgotten room. Behind him was the door he had broken from its hinges.

Upon reaching the projector room earlier, Graphite found the door had been locked with two locks to keep anything from getting inside. The dust mites weren’t going to bother with the door, so it had been locked until Graphite had come by. With Graphite’s uncanny ability to break down doors, he thrust against the door and busted it open for him to freely enjoy a smoke while he started up a movie for Sunny - probably the first movie she will see in her life.

The reel had finished winding passed news section, and the projector had was starting the movie. A muffled crackle of speakers turning on after decades of rest came from somewhere near the stage. I bit of dust and dirt drizzled down the rafters of the stage, and the movie was starting up. The image on the screen was a countdown starting from five.

Four... Three.. Two.. A line going across a circle... A cross shape... Then a beep.

A quick flash, and the film started. Sunny was slowly coming up from the chair’s cushions. Her eyes widened, and her frights were starting to tumble away with the sounds of the film rolling through the theatre. The film came on with an amazing orchestra to back up the beginning credits. The credits had gone, and the movie was finally beginning. Sunny was about to jump up from her seat, residing just at the edge of her cushion. The film started out with a scene on a navy ship coming home from the old war effort of that time - three sailor ponies came off the ship with a spring in their step and their voices lifted high. The came out and broke into song - the movie was one of those great musicals that everyone can sing along to.

Sunny was in a fit of awe the entire length of the movie. Graphite had seen this one before, but there was always that good feeling you get when you watch a good movie. He looked down from the projector room, watching as Sunny started to bob her head and hum along to the tune of the songs. Graphite was burning through his cigarettes throughout the movie, staying right by the projector until the movie played out its final song and ended.

Sunny was at the bottom of the theatre clapping her hooves together, and wooing loudly and happily. Graphite smiled, taking his cigarette from his mouth and moving up the window, “How about another one?”

Sunny nodded her head and screamed back, “Of course!”

Graphite jumped back from the window, trotting over to the film rack for another movie. He examined through all the movies until he came passed the cartoons. He grabbed the first one that was set there and popped it into the projector. It rewound, paused, and starting playing.

A cheery song started to play, something like a foal’s piano and a light tambourine to a simply melody. A cute little bunny hopped on screen. Sunny’s smile was slowly coming back; from a smirk, to a grin, and then a beaming smile. The cartoon was just about little Angel the Bunny helping his forest friends with problems they couldn’t solve themselves and a short listen that could be learned from it - but it was just cute enough that Graphite could watch it with enjoyment. The show ended shortly, Graphite and Sunny couldn’t help but express a small ‘Aww’ from the ending when Angel had saved all his forest friends.

“Cute...” Graphite told himself.

“Another on-?”

“-Another one!” Sunny suggested right before Graphite could ask.

Graphite tossed his burnt out cigarette and went back to the rack for another movie. Rewind, stop, then play. The projector was pretty reliable, maybe a reason they threw out the last projector. The movie came on in a flash; a pony sitting on a train with his head in the clouds. His fantasies of being the captain of the largest ship on the waters, dreams of flying shows with the Wonderbolts, and wonderment of anything his mind could make up. He was caught in his dream long enough to ride right passed his stop - and the next one, and the next one. The movie had laugh after laugh every scene with the stallion’s day dreaming getting him into trouble. He caught a cab that was already taken by a wealthy mare, trying his best to not offend the lady - he was thrown out by the next block.

Graphite was kicked back in his chair guffawing loudly - catching a sudden puff of smoke as he laughed over the movie. Sunny was holding her sides as she laughed in tears. The movie was only half through, and Graphite was rolling around on the ground chuckling. The movie ended with the daydreamer solving a murder and ending a jewelery thief’s crime spree with the oddest set of circumstances any pony could find themselves in - then, he wound up marrying the rich mare he met in the cab.

They went through two or three more movies, enjoying the comedies and musicals, before hunger finally succumbed to Graphite. He dropped his cigarette on the floor and stomped on it to put it out. Then, he checked his cigarette pack - he had two left. He groaned in anger, throwing his pack into his bag before leaving the projector room - forgetting to turn the projector off. He came over to the electrical panel that was just beside the doorway he knocked down and flipped a switch to turn the theatre room’s lights back on.

Graphite stepped down the service stairs and back into the hallway, all before reaching the theatre where Sunny was waiting impatiently for another film.

Sunny was in her seat sitting with a smile, not noticing Graphite until he came right next to her and took the seat beside hers, “What’s up?” Sunny asked as she turned to Graphite. “Did the projector break - I wanted to see another film.”

“No, but I’m hungry,” He informed, rubbing his stomach softly.

“I guess it’s around lunch, right?” She giggled.

“Sure... uh, I got some canned corn left,” Graphite reached into his bag and picked out the can of corn that was in there. “It’ll be just like popcorn... more or less.”

“Popcorn? You mean like that the little puffs in the buckets -- like that one advertisement they have back at the bar.”

“Yeah, like that - except, I have no way of cooking these corn kernels into popcorn. The least I could do is heat them up.”

Sunny grabbed the can from Graphite, then swiped his knife from its sheath. She stabbed the top and shimmied the knife around the can until she could could wedge the knife beneath the cut and pop the cap right off. Sunny gave the can back to Graphite after taking a quick nibble on a some of the kernels, “Don’t bother heating it - I’m too hungry to wait that long.”

Graphite swiped his knife back, stuffing it into his sheath a bit stubbornly; but smiled again when he swallowed down a few of the cold kernels. “The closest thing to popcorn out here,” Graphite thought to himself.

The two went back and forth sharing bite and swallow of however much corn was in that can until they ran it down to a few soggy kernels laying at the bottom. Graphite tossed the can away, landing just a few rows down the theatre. Usually the janitors would come by and clean that up right after the show, but that wasn’t likely to happen - but, he didn’t have to worry when no pony else would be stumbling into a random building a start watching things they never heard of. Graphite took a swig from his canteen, gave a sip to Sunny, then the duo was off heading out the room.

They went down the hallway; the posters were still there, fading away under the dying lights on the ceiling. Sunny caught eye of a poster for one the movies they saw, pointing it out to Graphite and retelling her favourite moments. Graphite just listened, nodding his head or chuckling a bit from her quotes and scenes. They filed through the hallway, passed the shattered chandelier, and out the front entrance. They found they have been there longer than they realized when they saw the sun already starting to set down in the west.

Graphite looked towards the sun, then quickly looked away -- not the best idea to look at the sun. Graphite turned to Sunny, “We should start looking for a place to stay the night, Sunny,” He suggested, rubbing his right eye.

Sunny turned to Graphite, “Why don’t we just stay in the theatre - it’s a pretty stable place so you don’t have to worry about it falling on top of us.”

“So I don’t have to worry?”

“Yeah, you seem to be the worrying one of this group.”

Graphite couldn’t find a proper comeback, so he just nudged Sunny over the shoulder, “You,” He scuffed, trotting back into the theatre.

“And don’t worry, Graphite, I’ll keep you safe from any bad monsters that’ll come for you in your sleep!” She giggled slightly louder than she was comfortable with, but she held in the rest of her guffaw and trotted in after Graphite.

Graphite was standing next to the broken crystals of the chandelier, looking about the foyer and planning for the best spot to set up shop. Sunny trotted passed him, flicking his side with her tail. He looked over at her; she went around the chandelier, dropped her gear at the foot of the stairs. Graphite raised his brow, but shrugged to himself, following Sunny to the stairs. He set his stuff next to Sunny’s gear, taking a load off on the first stair and laying down across the next few steps. Sunny was laying sideways across one step, laying her head down on the soft, red carpet of the stairway. Graphite wasn’t ready to sleep yet, and by the looks of it, neither was Sunny. He looked down at her, her mouth still glued in a sweet smile. He looked away, staring up towards the ceiling. His closed his eyes, until he heard a peep.

Chapter 17: You Dreamer You

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Graphite squinted one eye open, looking left and right for the peep.

“Graphite,” Said the peep.

Graphite looked up, then down - Sunny was staring over at him, “Graphite,” She called.

Graphite sat up, dimly opening both his eyes, “Yeah?”

“Could you tell me more about the theatre?” She asked quietly.

“Well,” He rested his elbows on the steps to keep him up comfortably, “What did you want to know?”

“You seem to know a lot about the theatre - you knew about this place, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but back in the day - before the war - this place was a famous landmark for Buckago itself. Ponies from all around would come to this place to see the latest and greatest.”

“So ponies watched movies often?”

“Yes - very often. There were theatres all over Equestria - one for every town. It was one of those major things that everyone could get into and enjoy.”

“Did you go to the movies often?” Sunny continued to ask.

“Not really, no. My family never had a lot of money so all the bits which we had went to rent for the apartment and food. To this theatre in particular, I’ve been only once before, and that was when my parents let me go on a field trip with my elementary class.”

“What were your parents like?” She rested one elbow on the step above her, getting more cozy so she can focus on Graphite’s stories.

“Well, my father used to be pretty easy going - lived every day like it was his last. He spent most of his life working in a quarry, so he was never sure if he would be back home by the end of the day. When I was born, my mama asked him to find a safer workplace so he started to work at the docks. He started to drink time to time, but we were lucky that he got either very sleepy or very talkative anytime he was drunk,” Graphite chuckled shortly, then continued. “He sure loved to talk about what he saw at the port during the day. I was always there to listen to him.”

“What about your mother - was she nice?”

“My mother was very protective. She constantly worried about me getting into some sort of trouble whenever I was on my own. She was pretty disappointed with me when I traded in my job at the grocery store for a career of a marine,” Graphite paused before turning to Sunny, “What about your parents?”

“I don’t remember my real parents. They died when I was just a few months old. The mare I call my mother now found me by them though,” Sunny grinned. “I was laying by a Sunrise Sarsaparilla machine when they found me so they named me Sunny - I guess it seems fitting.”

“I think that my parents named me Graphite just because I left traces of my coat as all over the carpet as a kid - just like a pencil.”

“Oh, I can’t even remember what happened when I used to shed.”

“Yeah, well we all have to go through it once,” He smiled.

“Yeah... now when a foal starts shedding, the fur usually doesn’t grow it back.”

Graphite laid his head back once again, “I try my best not to think about how bad this world is...”

“I try my best too; but when you’ve lived in a wasteland your whole life, you start to get used to it - you start calling it home since it’s the only one you have...” Sunny sighed, laying her head on her hooves, “I’d give anything to see the world before the war though.”

“I wonder what happened to the other cities - Buckago couldn’t be the only surviving city. I mean, what about Manehatten or Canterlot?”

“Manehatten got hit by megaspells just like Buckago did. From what I’ve heard from travelers is that there’s this weird feel about it. Some also said that there were some ghosts, but I think that it’s about the same as the cloud wall around Buckago - it’s scary until you realize that the only dangerous thing in there is a rock ahead of you that you can trip over.”

“And Canterlot?”

“Oh, that’s a different story. No one has gone near the Canterlot ruins because of the pink cloud. What I’ve heard is that it’s some sort of a gas. Anything that it touches starts to deteriorate. The worst thing is that there is nothing can protect you. The gas even cuts through power armor.”

“That description sounds vaguely familiar.”

“What?” Sunny squeaked, switching arms to lie on, “Was it something normal back then?”

“No, no,” Graphite answered while shaking his hoof with emphasis. “You see, back in the war Zebras used to fight with tanks. But it’s a big hulking machine and it can’t always pass through thick vegetation. Whenever there was jungle that was too thick to get through they used a gas that ate away the trees, shrubs and anything else in the way. But the gas evaporated quickly and their tanks could move through without any damage. They did drop some canisters of them on our troops, but the ones that were in masks or power armor survived.”

“That couldn’t be the same thing then - could it?”

“It could, but perhaps more concentrated - I’m not sure.”

“Well, it sounds like the same type of gas, and whoever spread it over Canterlot had it concentrated enough to keep it over the city ever since the war.”

Sunny sat up from the step, rubbing some dust bunnies from her coat before moving on, “You were in the war, right Graphite?”

“Yea-”

Sunny couldn’t help her intrigue and let it show when she interrupted, “-How does it feel, when you’re going to war -- is it like that newsreel when the movies started?”

“It’s not as fun as I had hoped - and I didn’t expect it to be much fun from the start anyways,” Graphite humoured with a sigh.

“Then why’d you join if you knew it wouldn’t be anything you would enjoy?”

Graphite scratched his ear and cleared his throat before he went on, “Well, I told my parents it was because I wanted to travel the world and help the needy - which was a good incentive, but it wasn’t the reason I had enlisted. I- well, I told you my father worked in the docks-”

“-Yeah-”

“-Yeah,” Graphite broke Sunny’s interruption, “Working the docks wasn’t exactly a high paying job. He worked his coat off in long hours to bring home minimum wage - it was just enough to keep us fed and housed, but that was all. My mother was busy with keeping the home, so I went ahead and got a job at the grocery. That paid minimum wage as well, only good for getting us butter for our bread. The real reason I joined the military was so I didn’t end up just like my father - working a dead end job until the day he died...” Graphite paused, shaking his head at the regretful memory. “The pay for marines at the time was much better than the grocery store bag-colt so, I signed up as soon as I could.”

“And you never told your parents about?”

“They hated me for signing up for the military enough as it was; if I told them the real reason I left, they would never let me set a hoof in Carnen.”

“Your sure your own parents would do something like that with their only son?”

“Of course - here they were working hard everyday for their boy, and here I am signing myself away to war,” Graphite chuckled, but his smirk slowly died down into a frown.

Sunny came up the steps, sitting beside Graphite and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, “Maybe you’ll find it was a good decision eventually.”

“Eventually...?”

Sunny smiled at him, looking into his eyes, “Well, you would probably never be here right now if you hadn’t signed up. You would still be in Carnen, bagging canned corn and bread into paper bags,” She patted his back, “You wouldn’t have been frozen all those years ago - you would have never be here now if you didn’t make that one -- maybe stupid -- decision to join the military.”

“You’re probably right, Sunny... but that decision I made is still something I’ll bring with me for the rest of my life.”

“Ignorance is bliss, you know. Uh, try to get some sleep, maybe you’ll forget about it in the morning.”

“Yeah, sure - thanks, Sunny...” Graphite groaned.

“I’m always here to help,” Sunny gave him a wink before sliding down the stairs back to her first step, where she had planned to sleep the night.

Graphite just watched for a moment as Sunny sloped down the stairs to her step before he turned away. He laid his head down on the steps with his hooves behind it, staring at the cracked ceiling before his eyes became heavy once more and fell asleep.

Graphite was heading up through the cold metal corridors of the battleship that had set sail about a few days ago. He and a few more members of the crew had been called to the briefing room for something important. He went down the winding hallways and through the tiny doorways until he reached the briefing room just a way’s away.

Graphite reached the doorway and was about to step through, until another stallion came by wearing amour similar to his, and cut ahead of him. Graphite flared his a nostrils at the pony’s rudeness, but stepped through the doorway with ignorance knowing he had more pressing matters. He piled into a room surrounded by ponies who were all wearing a suit of amour similar to Graphite’s. They were all ponies; unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi alike - all of them killers and all of them waiting anxiously for the pony to brief them.

They were all gathered into a oblong semicircle made of collapsible chairs, Graphite was just another point along the disordered line of the perimeter. A few shifted their eyes and heads around the room looking for whomever was suppose to be briefing them. Graphite kept a steady sight, staring straight ahead towards the board where a projector was casting an image of a map. He couldn’t see it since the lights were still on and were overtaking the weak light of the old projector. It was just a few minutes of tempered waiting when the lights went out, and a burly unicorn stallion with a voice higher than what his outer appearance showed and thick accent to go with it. He was light brown all over except for one spot near his right hind leg. He had a short-cut, dark brown mane that was covered underneath a green beret. The beret had a tin fleur-de-lis pinned to the front of it - he was obviously from somewhere far east from Equestria’s lands.

The room rose to attention and saluted. The stallion came near the projector, his face just lit up by the projector’s light, “At ease soldiers,” He guided, grabbing for a pointer stick from the desk where the projector sat. “I am Commandant Cognac, I will be the one to brief you on your assignment and the one that will be commanding you on this mission.”

The lights were down, and the map on the board was clearly visible - it was of the second island contained in the Triolet Island system. His pointer made a circle around the picture of the island, and he continued, “This is you all’s target. Now, I am sending you in with the rest of the marine division to aid the troops already present on the island. Our main objective is to take back the Triolet Islands from the zebra forces. Each one of you will be assigned to a separate unit, each unit will be heading into a different area of the island,” He took a pause, heading to the projector to load up the next slide.

One of the stallions just to Graphite’s right spoke up, opening with a question, “Why not just send us all in one unit? What’s the purpose for sending us in with all the others?”

“To decrease zebra morale,” Cognac answered astutely. “We put you in black coats for a good reason - it stands out from green all the other ponies would be wearing, non? You all are the best your military has to offer; so when the zebras see their army wiped out by a single pony in black, then the zebras will know fear,” The commandant smiled, almost giggling at the thought. The briefing wasn’t finished, Cognac continuing after his moment, “Yes... and when the marines see ponies scaring off the zebras with just a stare, then they will know courage.”

The slides on the projector changed again, flipping to images of various locations on the island. The island vegetation was eaten up and destroyed, the gas clouds had chewed away every metre of grass and every tree was chipped and chopped by the constant cannon fire from the navy’s ships. The land was dark with scorch marks and filled with depressions from the explosions. Any further bombing and the island would be wiped clean from the ocean, with just a faint smell of smoke and ash to designate and island was once there.

Cognac brought back attention, “This is the current condition of the island. Now, as you can see, most the trees have fallen from the Navy’s cannon fire - so this will leave you more open to enemy sight. Once you have arrived on the island, you will each receive specific orders based on which units you will be assigned to.”

The lights came back on in the room, the projector slowly dying off as Cognac centered himself between the circle of soldiers, “Is every pony clear?”

The whole room answered back, “Yes sir,” with varying levels of loudness and inflection. Everyone was then given permission to leave. Graphite left just as soon as all the others, heading through the small doorway and back into the cramped hallways of the battleship. Graphite watched as the others walked out ahead of him, all of them packing their own weapon of their own type. Following with the ponies were sniper rifles, shotguns, submachineguns of all kinds, and the occasional rifle that always came standard with any soldier.

Graphite took a look back at his rifle - it was in need of some R & R just as much as Graphite was in need of it. The wood had chipped around the trigger and near the ejection port, Graphite had secured the scope using some old leather and string since the rail had cracked, and the wood in general was looking beat up and dirty. The metal seemed just as bad, months of dragging it through the dirt and mud had scratched it badly. Graphite adjusted the gun back on his shoulder, staring down the ship’s never ending corridor. He let go of the strap on his rifle and started on his way.

Graphite flowed through the hallways like his thoughts through his head. He was thinking of his current assignment. He was being sent in like a hero to a place he had never been, expecting to pick through an army he has only faced in small squads. The army was using him like a movie star, hoping to raise morale simply by showing up to the dangerous island. Graphite trotted through corridor after corridor of the ship, losing his sense of direction while his mind was caught on the thought of being blown to bits by a zebra. It didn’t take long for Graphite to get lost in the bowels of the vessel.

He crossed through another hall, stopping just as a group of soldiers walked by on their way to the main deck. They were wearing the normal combat armour every new recruit was strapped into since boot camp, a green armour set made of some newly developed plastic and high grade ‘polymers’ - if Graphite remembered that word correctly. They were light weight, cheap, and tough as steel. Graphite’s was almost the opposite, only similarity being the toughness. The metal plates in his suit were heavy and klutzy, the design based off the original set of armour develops a few years back. This set was the ‘commando’ line of armour, the only notable distinction was the tan colour of the armour and the black duster, rather than just a forest green suit. He jumped back to where he was heading, which happened to be nowhere in particular. He reached an end to the corridor, the path splitting off in two directions.

Graphite looked back and forth, both ends of the hallway looked identical - metal. He had no idea what to do next, so the only reasonable option was to continue forward. Down through another pressurized doorway, down another line of pipes and wires; eventually, he made it to a stairwell. He followed it up, taking the next flight of stairs out to the mess hall. Graphite was caught during supper, a wave of ponies had already started grabbing bread rolls and hay burgers.

One of the more experienced ponies in the war walked by with a rifle strapped around his shoulder. There wasn’t any bit of wood on this edition of rifle -- fresh from the market apparently. It was completely made of clean cut steel and a few plastics for the hoof guard and stock. It had a carrying handle that doubled for the rear sight and magazine that could easily hold twenty rounds if not more.

Graphite was almost lost with all the new improvements in war fighting. He had grown accustomed to the heavy, hoof-made guns and the outfits he knew weren’t made for fashion. Graphite wore the old uniform for one combat mission - after that, they strapped him into his suit and he never seen those memorable rags again.

It was a long change for the EAMC to adapt all these modernizations to its soldiers. The other branches of service had most of this technology by the time Graphite had heard about it. The EAMC probably guessed the zebras would use the same tactics they did back in the North; that would turn out to be false when they came charging in by the hundreds down South.

After finishing his thought, Graphite moved out of the mess hall - he wasn’t needed there, and he didn’t want to get hungry and suffer through the island on an empty stomach. His mission was still in his mind; he knew, without question, all the details and all the objectives.

The mission was to capture the Triolet Islands - invading all three of the islands at once using different tactics in each. There was a lot of interest in this island system - and for good reason - it was the last of the Zebras’ defense just before their mainland, so the military had always waiting for their chance to strike.

Graphite wasn’t sure how to feel for this mission. He should feel proud seeing as the marines saw him as a somewhat celebrity figure, but only because his greatest ability was taking out the enemy with his own unseen grace. He could feel scared knowing he was being sent to the last of the zebra’s strongholds - keeping in mind any zebra left in Equestria would be all be crowded on or near that island. He would feel angry for being sent as just a propaganda piece, if it wasn’t his duty to be risking his life for others in the first place.

Graphite was nudged from the middle of the corridor, interrupted in his deep thoughts by passing soldiers moving around the ship like bees buzzing around their hive. He looked down at the ground as he leaned against the walls of the hallway. He noticed something shaking in his duster pocket. He reached inside, pulling out a metal device named the ‘Pip-Buck M’. This seemed to come standard with every commando. It had everything a good solider already knew how to keep track of in one small, metallic package that fits in a pocket. It seemed useful, yet unneeded for Graphite - he knew how to look at a map, he remembered all the details for his missions, and checking physical condition was as simple as either breathing or not breathing.

Graphite stood back up straight, the cold metal starting to get uncomfortable. He decided to head back to his room which he knew had to be somewhere in the tangled mess of the ship’s corridors. He moved forward, following undiscerning arrows to new places that looked like the old ones. He remembered a number, “4,” but on a ship this size, that could mean the forth deck down; the forth room in the forth block of the forth deck; or the forth time he had wondered around this ship without seeing his room.

Eventually, he made it to his bunk, struggling with the door since there was no door knob but rather a big valve that he didn’t remember being there. He stepped into his room, pushing the door closed and sealing it, the door making a hiss as it pressurized.

He headed for the bunks. There were two in the room, he took the one closest to him. He was lying on his back, one hoof resting on his head as he stared up at the springs of the top bunk. He noticed the empty bunks beside him -- he hadn’t heard from Spotty or Blue Jay. Graphite had little worry for Blue Jay, he got his leave during Graphite’s special operations training and had gone away with his marefriend in Cloudsdale. The two had a little filly of their own and were living happily. The last word from Jay was his letter telling Graphite just that. Spotty was a little more separated, not a word from him since boot camp. That was years ago, Spotty was quite a character since Graphite could remember him years after. Graphite was suffering from loneliness, but he would soon meet up with some nice zebras - zebras who will give him a machete to the head, on the house.

Now, the mission was starting to swarm into his head. He could imagine all the trekking through the island, slipping down cliffs and rocks; dodging through the upturned trees while the bugs took bites at him like a buffet; hiking miles up and down the divots from the cannon fire until he reached an outpost full of zebras armed and ready to kill anything that comes their way. Graphite groaned, covering his eyes and turning in his bunk. He lay in his bunk, and slowly, the energy in him started to fade. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

His eyes opened as he awoke, staring up at a golden ceiling as the world came into vision. He turned his head, looking down the steps over to where Sunny was sleeping. Graphite tried to roll out of his spot, but ended up rolling down a step before he caught himself on the hoof-rail with his hind legs. He grumbled to himself, slowly using the steps beside him to pick himself up and begin his trudge down the stairs. He stepped down, one by one, reaching his things at the bottom of the stairs. Sunny was getting in a few more minutes of sleep; Graphite didn’t want to disturb her, so he grabbed his things and stepped outside the theatre.

He strapped his backpack around his shoulder just as he stepped out the door, looking left and right at the sidewalk for the carts that wouldn’t be there. It was just a force of habit on Graphite’s part, but it’s always good to check just in case -- another pack of Talons could always be on its way. Graphite looked back at the theatre, then decided to take a stroll just down a few blocks. It was around noon, the sun burned hot down in the ruined streets of Buckago. The sidewalks were cracked, the buildings were ruined, the smell of death was strong in the thick air. Graphite didn’t think this town could be any different, whether two years back or two hundred. The sidewalk was going to be filled with litter, the roads ruined with the wheels of passing carts, the air filled with the smell of musk and industry. Graphite wondered why he came here in the first place, there didn’t seem to be anything Graphite needed to do here. He turned his head behind him once more, the huge sign of the theatre still visible behind him. Sunny was still in the theatre - alone now -- maybe there was a reason for Graphite to be here. Either fate or his dumb luck had brought him here, but Sunny still needed protection and that’s what Graphite was going to do. He turned about, taking his time in his slow trot to the theater.

Sunny awoke just a bit after Graphite left. She slid off her step, stretching out when she had the energy to stand. She reached down to grab her things, looking back to check on Graphite - who wasn’t there. Sunny looked left, right, and everywhere in between - not a sign besides his missing things. She tried to keep her hopes up, but it’s hard thing to do in the middle of a wasteland. She grabbed her gear, adjusting the straps and stepping outside - peeking over the doorway to see if it was clear. Some pony was standing outside, leaning against the side of the theatre. She knew it was Graphite, his armour was easy to recognize out here.

Graphite was staring down the streets, still trapped in his thoughts.

Chapter 18: One Piece at a Time

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Sunny came over quietly, her hooves steps light on the sidewalk. Graphite was bent comfortably against the carved surface of the theatre.

She came up to him, catching him off guard, “What are you doing out here, Graphite?”

Graphite flinched, turning his head over to the sound of Sunny’s voice, “Oh- Sunny, I was just taking a little walk... collecting my thoughts...”

“Sounds like fun,” She snickered. “So what did you think about?”

“Just,” Graphite thought for a long moment, “Things.”

“Just things?”

“Yeah, just stuff - you know.”

“Well, why can’t you tell me what kind of stuff?”

“Yeah... wh- where are we headed next?”

Sunny paused for a moment, taking a few steps ahead of Graphite down sidewalk, “We’re going further downtown - I’m going to check on my family.”

Graphite bent away from the wall, getting in line with Sunny, “Your family lives downtown? Isn’t that a little dangerous for a family?”

“It is, but it’s the only place they can stay,” Without a glance, Sunny continued on the sidewalk.

‘The only place they can stay.’ There was miles behind them of free space that were safer than anything deeper downtown. There had to be somewhere back in Rossmore for Sunny’s family to stay - even if it was in the slums of the eastern side of town. It seemed odd, but then he realized why - Sunny said she was an orphan.

Graphite hurried to get beside Sunny, “What kind of family is this, exactly?”

Sunny slowed her pace, turning to Graphite, “What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you an orphan?” Graphite blurted out, starting to regret he did.

“Yes - I told you I was...”

Graphite took in a breath of air, taking a moment to think before he said anything else, “Well then, how are you related...?”

“I grew up in an orphanage. All the foals stuck together and, in time, we all were like a big family. Well, like a family with two sons, seven daughters and one mom - but still a family!” Sunny smiled.

“That’s a big family for an orphan. I’m guessing someone adopted you then?”

“No, no one. We all grew up at that orphanage together,” Sunny smirked, her smile getting slightly dimmer.

“Oh, so your family is just the ones you grew up with - staying somewhere deep in Buckago?”

“Yeah- Yeah! They, um, are all staying at the abandoned orphanage... it’s what they’re used to, so why leave, huh?”

Sunny’s voice seemed a bit choppy, almost worried. Graphite didn’t want to say anything, blaming it on the rudeness of his last remark. The two pressed on a couple of more blocks, watching as the buildings started to grow darker with ash and scorches. The buildings down the horizon started to look more destroyed, from small sections missing to entire halves of buildings toppled over. It seemed to be getting darker, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Graphite looked up the skyline, looking as the destruction made a nice gradient down the path of the street. Going from better to worse the deeper it went. Graphite continued glancing up the buildings, until a hoof hit his chest; Sunny was telling him to stop.

Graphite looked over to Sunny, then followed her line of sight forward. A side of a building had fallen over the street, creating a pile of rubble that obstructed the street and the next block over. It was daunting, Sunny looked speechless.

“Maybe we can go around?” Graphite suggested.

Sunny shook her head, “No, that will take too long.”

“Are you saying we just go over it?”

“Well we can’t go under it,” She giggled at another one of her jokes.

Graphite chuckled, then sighed shortly after, “Well, let’s keep going, shall we?”

“Yeah.”

Graphite went ahead first, starting with finding a good hoof hold to start climbing. The debris was loose and uneven, like a mountain made of sand. He grabbed onto anything that was big enough to grab, only to realize it wasn’t strong enough to hold. It wasn’t safe, but the path Graphite made was the safest he was going to get; Graphite waved his hoof to direct Sunny on.

Sunny came up to the pile, slowly taking one step at a time up the ruble and debris. She climbed on, bits of loose gravel starting to slide down from every movement she made. She lost her grip in one hoof and grabbed for something to pull up - but it came loose. The brick jerked from it’s place and she started to fall downward, but Graphite caught her just as she began to drop down with all the will in his levitation spell. Sunny gasped, caught in a daze. Graphite pulled her beside him, setting her down gently on the same ruble beside him. She found a grip in the fallen planks and pipes, then they started to climb again.

“How are you holding up?” Graphite grunted.

“From this iron pipe, obviously,” Sunny joked back as she pulled herself up.

Graphite chuckled, “You- you just can’t be kept down can you?”

“Huh?”

Graphite gripped a block of concrete that was once a ledge, “You’re just so happy - all the time, Sunny!”

“Is that- is that a bad thing?”

“N-no I guess not - just wondering how you... do it,” Graphite struggled.

One hoof to the next collection of bricks, another to the ruble least likely to crumble under the wait. They made their way up, the worry growing as they got higher. Graphite climbed just above Sunny, making sure he was close enough to Sunny just in case she slipped again. Another bit of loose gravel and a plank that couldn’t hold, Sunny fell again - but Graphite was right there with his magic to grasp her and set back just ahead.

Sunny kept climbing, stopping only when a protruding splinter caught her leather jacket.

“Ahg- come on...” She mumbled, pulling and jerking until the splinter pulled out and left a rip in her jacket.

Graphite poked his head down to Sunny, “You okay?”

“Yes- just got my jacket caught... then ripped it.”

“Oh... I’ll b-be sure to get you that... uh, that dress you wanted, eh?”

“You don’t even... know what kind of dress I wanted,” Sunny replied, reaching for another block of bricks.

“Sure I do- something girly, right?”

“Ha- no. I told you something- som- fit for a gala!” Sunny’s hind hoof dropped down, but she found another bit of gravel she could sink it into. “Something elegant and fancy, but still fitting for a p-pony like myself.”

Graphite stepped up a few more bricks before he could respond, “I think I know what you mean...”

“Uh huh...” Sunny sighed.

They neared the top; their panic was nearing it’s peak, but so was their relief. Graphite grinned, picking his pace up to get there as soon as he could. He grasped a metal beam, another row of bricks before both cracked under his weight. Graphite yelped, as his body suddenly dropped and gravity forced his insides up. Suddenly he stopped, his hoof clenched tight by something soft. He looked up, seeing Sunny hanging on by one hoof, her other holding onto Graphite’s arm.

Sunny grinned wide, Graphite smirked back, almost embarrassed. She swung him up while he extended his arm out for the nearest metal bar. He clenched it tight, Sunny let his hoof go. He stopped himself from swinging, a bit of ruble tumbling down the debris just as he stopped himself.

They grabbed the edge of the pile, pulling themselves over and stopping right along the peak of debris. Graphite slumped over, lying on his back in the jagged pile of bricks and gravel. He took in a deep breath, blowing out heavily. Sunny was nearby, panting just as much.

Graphite sat up, pushing aside a loose brick so he can sit comfortably, “Well... we made it...”

Sunny blew a sigh as well before leaning forward and finding a place to sit without slipping off, “...Y-yep...”

They took another moment of silence to catch up with their breath, which had slowly faded away after the climb. The looked out from the top of the pile of ruble, getting a better view of the road ahead. This was one hill in the valley of debris; the piles of fallen buildings didn’t seem as high, but they were smaller when the two were this far away.

It seemed only fit to take a break on the peak of this mountain of mortar. It was the middle of noon based on the sun’s reach over the sky. Graphite and Sunny got unusually cozy on a piece of ruble that could slip off at any moment. They kept their glee about them anyways, taking out canned peas for lunch. There didn’t seem to be a rush to be anywhere at anytime, time could keep turning and the duo would never know the difference.

They shared nibbles at the peas, taking all the can from the small meal. Sunny also took a strip of the jerky from her bag. Graphite recoiled a bit, turning away when she bit down and tore a piece with her mouth, chewing it loudly.

“How can you eat... meat...?” Graphite inquired.

“I bite it, chew it, then swallow- it’s just like eating hay, just hardier,” Sunny implied with another bite of the tough jerky.

“Yes, but... why do you eat- that?”

Sunny swallowed her bite before answering, “Well, Graphite, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s no vegetation out here in the wasteland - so your veggies are hard to come by. With hay and other plants like that being so rare, they’re a little more expensive - and by that I mean a lot more,” Sunny brought the half eaten jerky closer to Graphite and flaunted it in his face, “Meat, on the other hoof, is everywhere - so it’s cheaper and in larger supply. When you’re starving, you’d probably turn to eating meat too!”

“Somehow, ponies back at my time didn’t turn to eating the flesh of others no matter how hungry they were. I mean we didn’t. I heard some stories back in the war about how zebras started to eat their own dead after running out of food, but that must have been just a propaganda thing.”

“Graphite, the meat most ponies eat doesn’t come from our own kind. It’s usually some small critters like iguanas, sprites, and ants... some eat dog meat too - but I prefer them on my lap rather than in my stomach,” Sunny tapped her chin, “Uhh, I have heard some tales about cannibal tribes from traders at the bar, but no civilized pony wouldn’t dare to do such a thing.”

“What’s wrong with sticking to eating canned food?”

“Well, it’s two hundred years old and tastes like cardboard,” Sunny laughed.

“It’s still better than meat...” Graphite turned his head back over to the horizon, pouring more food into his mouth.

Noon had turned after, the sun beginning its first point in the race to the horizon - with the moon following in second. Graphite had finished off his meal quickly, tossing the can behind him to join the rest of the junk in the pile of ruble. Sunny finished her meal too, getting in a sip from her water bottle. They didn’t need to get anywhere soon, but Graphite was feeling bored sitting on the debris. He brought his head over the edge of the pile, looking down the rough and jagged sections of bricks and metal. He took a deep sigh - the only way down was down.

Sunny turned to Graphite, “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” He mumbled, starting first once again down the hill.

The grains of gravel trickled down the mountain of debris like water down a hillside, bouncing off bricks, metal pipes, and other grains of gravel. He slid down the first couple of sections, making the climb down as quick as he could without killing himself. Sunny followed close by, taking Graphite’s path and sliding down also.

Graphite stopped at a large piece of concrete, panicking as the block slowly started to seep down in the loose Gravel. Sunny slid down to his side, pointing out a safer block to jump to. Graphite prepared for the jump taking into calculations all the variables. The block he was standing on snapped from the gravel it was stuck in, so Graphite acted simply with a leap in the direction of the next one over.

Sunny gasped as he leaped. Graphite grunted as he jumped. The block cracked as it fell. Graphite landed on the small, broken block while his hoof clenched to a rusted metal bar. Sunny wanted to reach for him to make sure he had a good grip, but almost tripped herself in the process. She moved down another column of bricks, waiting for Graphite to move.

Graphite looked down, all his hooves were on something secure enough to hold him up. Graphite blew a sigh of relief, starting slowly down the next bit of debris. The trip down seemed to be going along faster and smoother; going down was easy, but falling was even easier. They kept their same amount of worry going down as going up, losing their worry as they neared the bottom.

Sunny spotted an opportunity to take the last leg of the climb down an open end of gravel. She scooted over, holding unto whatever wasn’t too sharp to grab. She took a deep breath, jumped down from he ledge, and slid down the rest of the way to the ground. Sunny wooed in joy before turning back to Graphite, who was still on the slope, “How are you holding up, Graphite?”

“Just dandy!” He hollered back, nearing the end of the hill.

Graphite looked down. He thought to himself, “It isn’t that far of a drop...” Desperate to get off the debris pile as soon as possible, he jumped. He fell down not too long before he landed on the ground, hitting it hard - his hooves holding him up just high enough so his cheek could scrape the ground.

Graphite grunted and groaned; Sunny came over, patting his back, “Nice fall - you alright?”

“S-y... yeah, yeah...” He moaned, slowly regaining his balance on all four hooves.

“Well if your fine, let’s get going,” Sunny lead on ahead, leaving Graphite to pick himself up as she left with a grin.

Graphite brushed his armour and his duster, galloping ahead to keep up with Sunny’s irregular pace. The road was was becoming darker, ash laying across it. The dust would blow away with every movement, the gust from their trot throwing it into the air. Graphite looked around the destroyed buildings, almost able to imagine the flames still going strong in each of the holes of the buildings. Shards of glass hid underneath the blanket of ash, making the road harder to cross.

Graphite needed his mind out of the hell it was imagining. He turned to Sunny, knowing she would brighten his thoughts, “Sunny...”

“Yes?” Sunny answered.

Graphite thought for a moment, searching for a topic, “Tell me more about Sierra, what was he like?”

“She was one of the nicest ponies I’ve ever met,” Sunny sighed.

Graphite’s attention beamed towards Sunny, his eyes wide with surprise, “She?”

“I thought you knew- Sierra’s a mare, Graphite,” She implored.

“No, I didn’t... I-I assumed she was a h-”

“-A he? Yeah, I understand... Well, yes, Sierra’s a mare. We met back in my days at the orphanage. She wasn’t one of the orphans, but occasionally her family would come by the orphanage after school. She would come by about every week - I think - and we would just play. Soon we grew older, eventually our friendship grew more into love. Our love just got stronger as we got older - when we were old enough, I moved out of the orphanage with her and we both moved into together in the same apartment.”

Graphite stepped over some ruble, continuing the conversation while keeping his eyes on the street, “I see. Well, I’m sure she was a great mare.”

Sunny looked up, finding the strength to continue this topic, “She was... I- I mean she was very gentle, very quiet - she was shy. I was almost the only one to talk to her at school when we were kids. She was nice, but it’s hard for a filly like that to be mean.”

“Of course, of course. How about her- um, talent?”

“She liked animals- actually, she loved animals. Sierra always cared for any critter that needed help; whether - she would care for it like a foal.”

“That’s nice,” Graphite uttered without any input to add or other words to say.

“At first,” Sunny sighed quietly, “It’s when she’s caring for the animals that you find out she gets too preoccupied with them to do anything with anybody - even me.”

“Really?”

“Yep...” Sunny looked down, the memory of her loved one was coming in - good and bad.

Graphite looked over to Sunny, spotting her sorrow starting to grow, “I’m- I’m sorry, Sunny. I di-”

“-It’s okay, Graphite,” Sunny brought her head from the floor, “You didn’t mean anything. It’s been years since Sierra’s been gone, I’ve... I’ve let go of that memory to keep myself from depression.” Sunny grinned, “Maybe you should try and do that too - letting go, I mean.”

“I guess that I’m trying to, but it’s just that most of the stuff that happened back in the war made me who I am today. To forget that is like trying to forget a part of myself.”

“Letting go is hard to do. It might take a few months, maybe years. Just make sure that you have the right ponies surrounding you and you’ll feel better in no time,” Sunny smiled and walked up closer to Graphite.

Graphite looked over to Sunny, a cheery smile growing on his snout. Graphite turned back to the road, watching for any small piles of loose junk or large shards of glass. Graphite’s eyes traveled up towards the sun, which didn’t seem to be out today. There was a dark cloud sitting idly just over this end of the city, the darkness inside so thick that the sun could barely shine through. The skyscrapers that once stood over everything else in the city were now sitting underneath it all. Most towers had toppled completely over; their rubble blockading the roads as before, or just burnt off the map. Any towers still standing tall were standing as skeletons, the bars and girders nearing their breaking point.

The mare and stallion hobbled over a short stack of rubble before moving into something odd. The skyscrapers stopped their sprouting, budding in every direction except this one area. This one area was large, burnt black by something more destructive than any fire. It was completely dead and barren, like all hope had gathered to this one spot in the middle of downtown and disappeared. This appeared to be true - it was Hide Park, and the epicentre of the megaspell blast.

Chapter 19: Come in Stranger

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Sunny was caught in state of deep shock, standing completely still as her eyes scanned over the remains of an entire park. Every tree, every bush, every animal, and every pony in that park had been burnt down to nothing in a single instant. Graphite shared the same amount of amazement, looking over the dark skeleton of old Hide Park. There was nothing left of the park besides one large crater that laid right in the middle of what used to be the park.

“There’s no way were going through that, Sunny,” Graphite demanded as he turned to her.

“Agreed, let’s go around,” Sunny pointed her hoof towards the row of buildings that lined along the border of the park.

Graphite followed Sunny as she made her way down the last leg of street and entered the first leg of hell. They stepped into a sea of ash, a whole cloud pluming up with their steps. Sunny and Graphite both reached for their snouts, covering them with their sleeves before the small particles of ash could float into their bodies. They crossed over the dusty section of street, making their ways as quick as they could to the sidewalks across the intersection. The buildings across the way were all blown inward in a perfect line from the shock-wave. It was enough to tear open the stores and cut down the skyscrapers.

They caught up to the sidewalk, stepping over the curb as more and more ash flew about the air when they moved. Graphite kept his mouth covered, nodding his head down in the direction of the way through. Sunny nodded her head, following right behind him as he lead the way. He trotted down along the edge of the sidewalk, almost hugging the building. He passed over an odd figure, something oblong and crisp on the side of the building. He turned his head, looking on the at an image of a pony. He thought it was Sunny’s shadow, but it was too dark for a shadow to appear. Sunny noticed Graphite staring at something behind her, so she turned her head to - jumping forward when the still image came for her from nowhere. She barked a bit before bumping into Graphite, blowing a sigh to herself when it turned out to be nothing. Graphite looked towards the crater in the park, then at the figure on the building, the blast had burnt a clean and clear image of the pony’s last moment before he had his shadow cast forever into the side of this broken building.

When looking forward as the dust clouds allowed him, Graphite could see that this pony wasn’t the only one - many more ponies lives had been burnt into the buildings.

Sunny turned her head from the ghastly shadow, following after Graphite - not wanting to lose him in the heavy dust storm. Her thoughts were fighting with each other to keep the imaginings of the dead ponies out and the focus of leaving this crater in.

They both slowly made their way through the clouds of dust, until they noticed a shadowy figure in front of them on the sidewalk. The shade was sitting on the sidewalk and, with every step, looked more and more like a pony. It sat with one hoof extended in front of it. This figure wasn’t burnt into the sidewalk, it was just a dark model of a pony sitting idly on the sidewalk.

Graphite stopped Sunny and with a motion of a hoof - he ordered her to stay put. Sunny just nodded, standing back at the clouds of ash.

Graphite slowly approached the strange pony. One question was on his mind - what a pony could be doing in a place like this?

“Excuse me,” Graphite murmured with his sleeve still in front of his snout, “W-what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

The pony turned its head in an instant towards Graphite’s direction and perked its ears high. It slowly got up and took its hoof off from the wall.

Graphite jumped back, bringing his hoof back from his chest over his mouth,“It’s okay, we’re just passing through. Do you need any help?” The pony didn’t respond, but turned tail and ran down the dirty sidewalk, it’s baggy clothes flapping in the wind as it ran away.

Graphite was caught in curiosity and worry for this being, he didn’t want to let the mysterious pony go away. He took up chase after the pony. Of course, with caved in buildings on one side, and a giant crater on the other, there wasn’t anywhere to run except forward - making the chase as easy as a walk.

Graphite’s instinct for catching a target was to tackle it to the ground. He did just that, pummeling the stranger into the ash and dust. The smoke barely had time to clear, Graphite flipped the covered pony over on his back and pulled its hood off.

Graphite shrieked, darting his head back when the face of dead pony came into view. Its fur was patchy, rough, and faded; Its skin looked burnt and torn; its eyes contracted and empty. Graphite grasped the undead pony’s collar, pulling it up then slamming it back into the dust and smoke. His magic reached for his pistol, bringing the gun over to the thing’s head. The trigger pulled - a disturbing click.

Sunny had pushed the pistol away at that moment, “Wait!” She urged.

Graphite pushed Sunny over, tossing his pistol aside as he grasped the pony’s collar once more, “We can wait when I finish-!”

“No don’t!” Sunny knocked Graphite off the pony’s chest, pushing him into whatever ashes were still remained after all the commotion.

Graphite coughed and Sunny hacked, Graphite swatting away the particles of dust, “What?” He intruded.

“It’s just a pony, Graphite! She’s a ghoul!” Sunny shouted back, reaching for the hoof of the distraught pony.

Sunny grabbed the apparent mare’s hoof lightly, helping ‘her’ back to her hooves, “Are you alright, ma’am-”

“Wh-what’s a ‘ghoul’?”

“A ghoul is-” Sunny grunted, pulling the pony up and setting her on all four hooves, “-a pony who’s just been caught in too much radiation and has... lost a bit of fur...” Her voice got quieter, taking note the feelings of this poor mare.

Graphite stopped, taking his moment to think while he got up from the ash covered concrete, “I’m sorry...” He added.

The ghoul hadn’t made a single noise up until this point, Graphite wondered if she was really what Sunny had described and not a ghost come to haunt lost travelers as they passed through this begotten area.

“I’m sure sh-”

“-It’s quite alright, deary,” Abruptly, the mare spoke, her voice sounding aged and fading, “I’m sure you didn’t mean to- I- I haven’t looked anything your use to in quite a few years.”

“Maybe if you warned us earlier, I wouldn’t had to-”

“No no, it’s is my fault- please, why don’t you join me for some tea,” The old mare guided, trudging along in an odd walk around the street corner.

Sunny walked up to Graphite’s side, then turned to him, “We should probably follow her - it’s only polite, after all,” Sunny suggested.

“Well,” Graphite trotted ahead, taking after the ghoul, “It’s not like she could hurt us, right?”

Sunny just nodded with a small smirk, going ahead with Graphite and following the trail of the aging ghoul. They followed her through a street corner and another line of burnt street, a crowd of ponies were lining the streets. They were motionless and empty, another sea of ponies burned deep into the city street by the blast. Small piles of wood were dotting the road one by one - the remains of wagons caught in the heat. Graphite turned over to Sunny, who was just as awestruck by the massacre as Graphite. He bent his head back to the old, wrinkled mare and asked, “What’s your name, ma’am?”

The pony turned to Graphite, slowing her pace even more, “Ligature, if I remember correctly,” She said with a generic smile.

“Well, Ligature, I’m Graphite and that’s Sunny,” Graphite introduced, pointing back to Sunny as he called her name. “I appreciate you inviting us for... tea.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Graphite. I appreciate you visiting.”

“Visitin-?”

“-Oh, right this way, Graphite and Sunny!”

She clamored into an old building with it’s whole entrance blown out, “Watch your step, dears,” Ligature spoke, stepping over a block of concrete then stepped through what had been left of the door frame. Sunny jumped over some bricks, and Graphite pushed aside some loose blocks until they both made it to the doorway and stepped through. The inside was nice and bright thanks to the improvised window that had been installed earlier. There was a row of counters along one side of the wall that was still intact, the rest of the building was emptied out then filled with ruble.

“You live in here, Liga-” She had left the scene, Graphite looked left and right through the building for her. “-Where’d she go...?”

“Over here, Graphite and Sunny!” A voice shrilled out, coming from behind the counters.

Sunny passed by Graphite, joining the old mare behind the counter; Graphite joined just after. The mare was stopped by a mat they was laying on the floor. She pushed the mat away, revealing a metal trap door hiding underneath it. There was nothing but a metal plate and a divot in the metal where a handle could be.

Ligature removed her hood. Graphite hadn’t noticed in smoke and the heat of the moment, but the mare was actually a unicorn - her horn looking chipped and cracked. She cast out a white light from her horn then pulled the trap door open, letting it slam on the ground after opening.

“The ladder can be slippery, so be careful,” The geriatric disclosed before climbing inside the hole and stepping into the shadows.

“More climbing for us,” Sunny chuckled then sighed, jumping into the hole and stepping down the ladder.

Graphite looked down the hole, watching as both the mare and Sunny disappeared somewhere inside. Graphite slowly made his way into the hole, grabbing the ladder tight and making his way down. The grate above closed as he went down, the white light from Ligature’s magic slowly fleeting as it shut.

Graphite reached the bottom, his hoof feeling something that appeared to be ground. It was took dark to see, Graphite was left holding unto the steps of the ladder. A bright light flashed on, the lights above whizzing and buzzing in stress. Graphite and Sunny blocked their eyes, waiting until they got used to the beading light from the ceiling. When they could see, they found themselves in a small space completely surrounded by concrete walls that had been plastered with scraps of different wallpapers and picture frames of nothing specific.

There was something that resembled a kitchen sitting in one corner of the room, there was an black oven; a small, metal sink; and some shelves where cans of food sat. There was a single table - a long one - that sat in the middle of the room. The rest of the room was empty space, with only a chair and a side-table that sat next to it, “Here’s the kitchen, dining room and living room,” Ligature told Sunny and Graphite, giving them a basic tour as they entered into the room.

There were two rooms that lay on opposite sides of this room, lead by a concrete doorway that had cotton flaps hung from the top of the doorway. The old mare lead them right, touring them into a large room with a single, double-wide bed sitting at the end. Some sheets of wallpaper were in the process of being glued to the wall, the backside of the sheets soaked in glue and hanging from the walls loosely. The ceiling lights above were going out, flickering violently, so she had placed two small lamps near the bed to light the room, “Here’s the bedroom,” Ligature noted again.

They moved back, trotting along passed the impoverished kitchen and tripping over some loose rugs before they got into the next room. A few pipes lined through the walls and over the ceiling, diverted all to a few rows of showers. There was a tiled wall between the five showers there, a space barely big enough to fit a pony, and a rusted drain sitting in the middle of the broken floors. There were toilets sitting nearby the showers, Graphite rather not see the details in them, “And here’s the bathroom,” Ligature finished the tour, bringing them back into the kitchen.

“That’s the place - I apologize for not making sure everything looked nice before you came- I wasn’t expecting, you see,” The old mare laughed, moving over to the wooden shelves and sorted through to find the tea, “I’ll start the tea going - you two make yourselves at home!”

“Sure,” Sunny responded, taking a seat at the big, cotton chair sitting in the living room section of the space.

Graphite grabbed one of the wooden chairs from dining room, bringing it near Sunny. He took his seat, trying to fit his body on the small seat. Sunny looked cozy, Graphite looked just the opposite. He turned to Ligature, who was cooking the tea - her burlap robe was set on the table. Her body was wrinkled, from both the old age and burns that patched across her skin. Her fur coat was thinning out and falling in clumps on the floor, revealing all the tough skin that was covered behind. Her coat was fading -- this was clear -- but it appeared to be some form of a mint green, what was left of her mane was yellow and going on grey. Her tail was going away too, another minute alone and the whole thing would fall off. The cutie mark was also beginning to fade away with her fur, but it looked like some kind of instrument - possibly a clarinet.

Feelings for a pony could be changed so easily. Graphite was one moment away from killing the ghoul, but now he couldn’t be feel an awful pity for her. Graphite looked for words to find, searching his curiosity for a question to ask. Finally, he thought of something simple, “So, how long have you been here?”

“Are you talking to me, Dear?” Ligature asked, turning her head from the tea pot sizzling on the oven.

Graphite turned in his chair to face the mare, “Yes, Ligature. How long have you been down here?” Graphite asked once more, projecting his voice so the old mare could hear him.

“Oh, I’ve been down here for as long as I can remember...” She stopped to think. The teapot started to steam, so she grabbed it hastily, bringing it over to the table and looking around for two cups to use. “This was a long time ago - before you two were born, I’m sure. I was shopping at the old shopping centre a few blocks from here. I was with a friend at the time, and I had forgotten my purse back in the store so I left him waiting in the street and went back into the store. It was around that time a very loud boom noise came from outside. There was a flash, brighter than anything you can imagine and then a blast right to my chest. I went out cold and woke up a few hours later. The building was on fire. I made it out, then ran right out to check on my friend. I ran out, and the whole city was on fire - the park was completely gone! I ran to where I thought my friend was. He... he was gone. But the strangest thing... There was his shadow, burned into the wall, so crisp and clear like he was standing next to me. The heat had burned it into the concrete...”

She came over, two cups of tea in her levitation spell as she brought it over to Graphite and Sunny. They took it with gratitude, taking small sips before realizing how hot it was. She stepped back to the kitchen and continued, “After that, I searched through the streets. Everyone was lying dead in the street or burned into the walls, every building was on fire, everything was gone. I remembered the radio talking of a few emergency bunkers in the city. There was one a nearby - this one. I came inside, and I’ve been here ever since - doing everything I could to make it feel more... home-y.”

Sunny looked down, digging through her thoughts now to find words to say, “I’m sorry for your loss... That- that must have been very traumatic,” She affirmed solemnly.

The old mare poured herself a cup of her tea, letting it cool as she moved about the small kitchen, cleaning it nicely for her guests, “Thank you, Dear, It means a lot. He was more than just a friend, he was the love of my life...”

Sunny picked up her voice, trying to sound more cheery, “I’m sure you two had a great relationship-”

“-Oh, we were never in a relationship, Sunny,” Ligature interrupted. “We were just friends, like I said, I never worked up the courage to tell him I loved him. Now... I’ll never get to tell him...”

“Why don’t you tell us more about life before the war, we’re going through what’s happened after right now - we’re not missing much,” Graphite declared, looking into his tea and taking a quick sip.

Ligature set her cup of tea near the pot, letting it sit on the table as she pulled a seat near Graphite and Sunny, “Yes, yes, you two would love to hear of the pre-war Equestria.”

“I’m familiar with it, Ligature, share your stories with Sunny,” Graphite leaned back in his chair while he said this.

“There’s not much you can learn from just reading the billboards, Graphite,” Ligature rebutted, swinging her hoof in a the direction she would expect a billboard to be.

“Actually, Ligature, Graphite’s been in the war himself -- show her Graphite,” Sunny directed to the newspaper folded in his pocket.

Graphite nodded, going into his pocket to fetch the newspaper cut out, “That’s impossible, no pony your age could have be in the war,” Ligature denoted. Graphite pulled the newspaper out and unfolded it before handing it to the old ghoul. The mare grabbed the paper in her magic, moving in close to read it. Her tired eyes scanned through the sentences and paragraphs, then to the photos pasted on the page. She lowered the page and whispered to herself ‘Oh my...’

“Do you believe me now, Ligature?” Graphite asked with a grin.

Ligature was baffled, “That is quite an amazing thing, Graphite. I didn’t think they would actually manage to do that.”

“I was just as surprised as you are, ma’am,” Sunny beamed.

“Now, tell us about your time before the war, Ligature,” Graphite pressed forward calmly.

Ligature sat down in the same seat she had brought over, smiling wide as she bent over to sit, “Of course! Of course!”

Sunny adjusted her position in the chair, getting comfier for the stories about to be told. Ligature cleared her throat, then paused to recapture her memories, “Well, back in my day, I used to be in an orchestra. It was one of Equestria’s biggest orchestras - fifty-two band members with every instrument you could imagine in pairs. I used to play the clarinet.”

“Used to? What happened?”

“Well, when the war began, every bit went to the war effort and we were unable to sustain our orchestra with the lack of money - and some of our members were drafted into war. While I was in the orchestra I met Luthier. He was playing the cello. When we had to leave the orchestra, we stuck together. We managed to pull together all the money we had and we bought a little apartment here in Buckago-”

“-That sounds nice,” Sunny interceded quietly.

“Yes, quite. We remained good friends through the years, but as time went by, I started to see Luthier differently than when I had first met him. I-I was falling in love... slowly, but it did happen. And on the day when I had decided that I would pull together my strengths and tell him how I feel-” The mare started to lose her tone of voice, along with her words. Her smile had became a frown, and her eyes were preparing to tear.

“-It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about that,” Sunny jumped in again, a calmer tone in her voice being heard.

“How about some music?” Graphite offered suddenly to brighten the mood.

“Music?” Ligature wondered.

“Yeah, my Pipbuck has a built in radio. It can pick up some loose signals.”

“Well, you can give it a try. I haven’t heard a recording in years!” Ligature sat back eagerly, watching as Graphite fiddled with the Pip-Buck.

“Give it a moment,” Graphite turned some dials and tapped the screen. A short whiz and a gurgle later, a song came up. It was a bouncy swing song from a classic orchestra; Graphite’s father enjoyed this brand of musical styling.

“Ah, I remember this song... we played it once back in the orchestra - it was a show we put on for Princess Luna, yes.”

“You’ve played for a princess?” Sunny’s eyes began to open with astonishment.

“Yes, many royals all over Equestria - we were the biggest orchestra, like I said,” Ligature gave a hardy wink that was joined by a smile.

The tea had been sifted through quickly. Sunny and Ligature had gone through a few cups, Graphite was still on his first - letting his go cold so he had an excuse to not drink it. The taste of the tea was a mixed match mixture of messed up madness -- at least in Graphite’s mind. Graphite didn’t enjoy it at all, and couldn’t see why the two mares did. Time was running short in the day, and the stories were fleeting on; Ligature had cleaned her dishes, and dumped Graphite’s tea down the drain - to his glee. She washed the final cup before joining up with Graphite and Sunny.

“It is pretty late, you two - perhaps you would like to stay the night here? You know the surface is not a safe place during the night,” Ligature proposed as she left the kitchen area.

Graphite and Sunny both thought for a short moment, realizing she was right before both agreeing, “Sure.”

“Good, great - be sure to wash up before you get to bed,” The ghoul set aside the rag she used to clean the kitchen’s counter-tops.

Sunny got up from the chair, stretching out and groaning before she moved on to the showers. Graphite stayed in his chair, letting Sunny go ahead and wash up first before he went inside. He let his eyes rest, closing them and placing his face in his hooves.

“Sunny’s a nice mare,” A shrill voice spoke.

Graphite leaned his head forward, opening his eyes to see Ligature standing there in front of him - almost close enough to feel her breath. He arched his back over sitting up stretching his arms out, “Y-yes, she is...”

Ligature stared into Graphite’s eyes with great intensity, as if she was looking for something hidden in his skull. Graphite didn’t know how to react, it was too awkward to move away in any direction. Ligature then leaned away, turning about to the old chair behind her and gradually made a seat in it. She licked her dry lips before starting again, “I can tell...” She sighed with a grin.

“Tell what, ma’am?” Graphite pondered back.

“I can see it in your eyes, you’re in love with that young mare.”

“You can tell that just by staring at my eyes, Ligature?” Graphite scoffed.

“Take it from my experience, Graphite, but I can tell.”

Graphite paused, thinking it over all the feelings he had. All he could say was, “Maybe.”

“Do not try and deny it, Graphite, I can tell. The longer you deny, the lower your chances of her loving you back are going to become. Pretty soon, you will never get that chance - even if you are ready to say it,” The old mare took another moment to remember what she was saying, then she licked her lips again and continued in a more serious tone, “Just look at what happened to me, Graphite. I never got the chance to tell pony I love. And now I have to live with the regret - and I have for the past two hundred years. I had my chance and that has all but gone long ago - you still have yours,” The ever aging ghoul got up from the chair, making her way closer to Graphite, “Would you rather end up like me? A dying old pony, filled with regret, who’s only will to keep going is the hopes I’ll pass in my sleep down here rather than being eaten alive by the things up there. Or would you rather end up with the pony of your dreams? Living happily together, growing old together...” She was losing her focus, about to succumb to her own exhaustion.

Graphite got up from his chair, grabbing her shoulders lightly as he help her back on the chair. Her shoulders felt like leather, the combination of burns and age was not good for her body -- or her skin. He let her rest for a bit, trotting to the kitchen to look over the things she had. A few cans of peas here, some soup broths there, that disgusting tea sitting in the middle of the shelf. There wasn’t much to look at here, maybe there were some interesting pictures in the frames on the wall.

He slid over to the next wall, staring at all the pictures of scenery. There was no theme - they were probably weren’t even Ligature’s - just some pictures she came across while scavenging. He panned over, until one photo caught his eye. He pulled it from the nail it was hung on, taking a closer look at the two ponies that were in the photo.

There were two smiling ponies - a young mare and stallion - standing near each other with the park in the background. The park still looked lively and fertile, even if you couldn’t see the lush colours in the black and white photo. Graphite looked at the happy mare, then over to Ligature, then back to the photo - it was obviously her. The casual looking stallion next to her must have been Luthier, his hair looking clean and cut for the picture. Graphite would’ve smiled at the pleasant picture, if he hadn’t found out about the two ponies’ outcomes in life. He simply set the photo back on it’s nail, then went back over to the wooden chair he had left for himself.

Ligature looked alive, though half asleep. Sunny stepped into the room, her damp hoofsteps clopping over to the rug in the kitchen, “The water’s a bit cold, Graphite, but at least the shower runs,” Sunny announced, wiping her wet mane down with the rag in the kitchen, “You can have the shower now - I’m done.”

“Alright,” Graphite answered and walked over to the bathroom, ducking under the flap, letting it flap back into position.

Graphite proceeded to take off his black duster and armour, slipping out each plate and wiggling out of his leggings. He didn’t have a chance to really wash himself for a long time, ever since he put on the armor - he was looking forward to taking a real shower. He pushed his armour near the doorway before stepping into the shower. He turned the knob on and the water slowly rattled it’s way from the pipes and out the shower head - Sunny was right about the water being cold.

He took his cold shower, rubbing his hooves over his body to try and clean out the dirt. There didn’t seem to be soap, maybe Ligature expected the germs to be frozen off by the cold water. He fought through the freezing stream of water, shivering as he wiped down blood stains, dirt stains, smoke stains, and any other stain that stuck to his fur. Graphite was surprised to find all this dirt on the fur that was under his armour. He tried concentrating on is face - where it was uncovered since this time.

Eventually he decided he had finished, and he stepped out of the shower. Graphite was glad to be out of the cold shower, but also a bit disappointed. He enjoyed the shower, even if it was below freezing - it felt nice to bathe after not doing so longer than he could remember. He looked around for a towel, the only one on hoof was the one Sunny had used, then left on the sinks. He wiped himself down, getting in between all the spaces and wiping down all areas. Graphite set the towel back at the sink, then turned his head and looked down at his armour. He stepped around it, leaving there since he was heading to bed soon. He trotted out of the bathroom, wiping his face on the cotton flap just before he left. Sunny was waiting in the kitchen, looking over the cans just like Graphite was earlier, “Oh, Graphite,” Sunny noticed him trotting into the room, “I was just about to head to bed now.”

A thought entered into Graphite’s mind. He turned to Ligature, who was still lying still on the chair, “Ligature,” He called out.

Ligature instantly reacted, flinching then opening her tired eyes slowly, “Huh- y-yes, yes?”

“There’s only one bed in your room.”

“Oh... oh, you two can share - it won’t hurt.”

Graphite looked back to Sunny. Sunny looked back at Graphite. They both glared at each other, before Sunny butted in, “I’m sure you would like to stay in your own bed, Ligature.”

“Oh no, I’ll be fine on this chair - I don’t think I’ll be moving from it in a while anyways,” Ligature chuckled quietly before yawning a long yawn.

Graphite sighed; he could hear Sunny let a sigh out too. Sunny stepped under the flap of the bedroom doorway, holding it up while she stood in the middle of the arch, “Well, Graphite... it’s getting late, we should get to bed...”

Graphite turned to Ligature. She had a smile on her face, shooing Graphite to the bedroom with her hoof. Graphite leaned his eyes back to Sunny, who was waiting at the doorway, “Okay.”

They both stepped through the flap, Graphite following Sunny to the bed at the end of the room. Sunny sat herself on the bed, Graphite came up to the side - taking a moment to settle into the situation. Sunny climbed under the covers, Graphite had just started to make his way unto the bed.

He shuffled under the sheets, they both rolled over on their backs, and they both nudged each other in the middle. A fake laugh was shared while the scooted a bit aways, the two turning away from each other. The bed was quiet, both ponies not moving so they won’t disturb the other. Graphite was rushing in nervousness, laying in bed with Sunny - both of them naked as the day they were born. Graphite couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t even get his eyes to shut. He didn’t want to check on, Sunny - she could be asleep and turning over would just wake her up. The bed started to shift, then the feeling of tapping came about Graphite’s shoulder, “Graphite,” A whisper called.

“Y-yes?” Graphite answered just as quiet.

“I... I can’t sleep.”

Graphite tumbled over, turning around to face Sunny. Sunny was lying there, her eyes wide and her smile small, but still there. He looked down into her eyes, searching the orange gems of her eyes for words to say, “Well, just- um, talk to me. Maybe we can chat ourselves to sleep.”

“Um, alright... uh- tell me about your cutie mark,” She eyed down, Graphite’s cutie mark was showing halfway outside the crumpled sheets. His finely cut diamond as a cutie mark was appearing now that his armour wasn’t hiding it.

“Oh- sure. Well, um- as a kid I was never able to have a real pet. When I said that I wanted a pet, my papa came home with a pet rock. Of course as a four year old foal, I accepted the thought that a rock could be your best friend. So, I looked after it; watered it, and found some comfortable dirt for it to sit on. When I was halfway through my first year at school, it turned out that my pet rock had grown a gemstone inside it. Of course, my dad sold it at the first opportunity, but from that day onward, I kept learning stuff about gemstones and I wanted to become a jeweler. In the end, it turned out that my parents didn’t have the money to send me to a proper school - but I did learn how to work with small parts and even fix things.”

Sunny moved her hooves under her head, using them as a pillow to keep her head up, “That’s cute,” She commented.

“What about yours, Sunny?”

Sunny looked down at hers and smiled; her bright triad of suns smiling back, “Ah yes, my cutie mark. I guess we could start back at the orphanage, as always. The owner knew how good at I was at making ponies smile, so every now and again, they would take me down to the nearby clinic. They’d take me to some of the injured ponies, and I would just do whatever I did to make them smile - either play with them, if they could; make up some stories; or show them things I would pick up outside. They would always smile after I visited them, so eventually I realized my talent was to brighten other pony’s days and then this appeared right on my flank.”

“And you are really good at making ponies smile,” Graphite said, emphasizing it with a grin of his own.

“I can see it works well on you,” Sunny giggled. She looked into Graphite eyes a bit, her smile keeping Graphite warm in the cold bunker. “Listen, we’ve been traveling a while together and I have been wondering - why did agree to bodyguard me for free?”

Graphite thought for a moment, clearing his throat before he whispered his answer, “Well...” He mumbled, dragging out the pause, “Um, I needed to set myself a target after reaching downtown. That was my target ever since I awoke from the long sleep,” Graphite sighed. “The life as I knew it has gone, so I just do what I did back in the war. I set up an objective - like make it to point B and a bunch of smaller objectives - like find some water, food, and medicine.”

“I see. But uh, how does it feel being out of your time, Graphite?”

“When I just awoke I was scared - I barely knew where or who I was. I found myself trapped in metal tube, banging and pounding on it before the door blew off and I fell out. I seemed to be put on display, there was a velvet rope and a few display cases with my stuff inside.”

“Was it a museum?” She raised a brow.

“Uhh, more like an exhibition - I didn’t know it at the time, I was still trying to learn to walk again. I searched around my corner a bit, reading the plaques and looking at the pictures they had framed in my section. After looking at the picture they had framed, and a reflection I saw in the display cases - I found out who I was, more or less. I strapped on this suit, grabbed the gun in the case, then went around the building for a while. There were five more sections around mine, each with another pony inside another one of those cryopreservation chamber... thingies.”

“I’m guessing they were dead since you haven’t brought them along,” Sunny stated.

“Yep, all of them were died a long while ago. I walked a bit more, looking for an exit out of that building. I found a window on the way there, when I opened the blinds over it - I saw the city.”

Sunny moved one hoof from under her head, letting it rest on her side. She licked her lips damp, then continued on, “I’d imagine that wasn’t the best of views for you.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Graphite sighed, turning on his back and looking towards the ceiling.

“I know how you feel, Graphite. I may have lived my whole life looking at the same destroyed buildings, but it’s something about them that will always be heartbreaking,” Sunny followed Graphite, turning over on her back as she held the bed sheet close to her chest.

“You seem to be very interested in pre-war stuff, Sunny.”

“How should I explain- umm, have you ever broken a dish, Graphite?”

“Well, I have, a few times - why?”

“If you try to put it back, you can’t always find all of the pieces. Even if you would, it wouldn’t be the same as it was.”

Graphite looked at Sunny and nodded, trying to find out what she was trying to say.

“Well, most of the ponies are trying to do just that. I am looking for the best pieces of the old world and try to make a new mosaic instead of just a dish. Sure not all pieces fit together perfectly, but that’s when I make up my own to put in.”

“You’re just looking for answers.”

“I guess-”

“-Out of simple curiosity?”

“Yeah.”

“And when you can’t find the answers, you make up something through small theories or imaginations?”

“Sure...”

“You just want to... understand - understand everything.”

“Aren’t you the wise one?” Sunny smiled.

Graphite smirked, rolling back over to face Sunny, “I don’t know, maybe that’s a question you can’t answer.”

Sunny chuckled, rolling over again to see Graphite, “You can’t tell me yourself?”

“Nope, ‘cause I don’t even know myself.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not something I usually think about.”

Sunny’s whisper got a little louder, but sill maintained the wispy flow, “You don’t usually think about it? I see you walking around all the time with your head in the clouds, just back at the theatre you went out so you could ‘think’. What are you thinking about, Graphite?”

“Just...” Graphite dragged out his pause again, hoping Sunny would drop the topic if he left it alone long enough.

“...I bet you’re thinking about me, Graphite,” Sunny scoffed, looking deep into Graphite’s eyes.

“No- uh, it’s-” Graphite looked back into Sunny’s eyes, feeling lost and confused.

“-Hm?”

Graphite rolled on his back, getting away from the grasp of Sunny’s stare. He faked a yawn, before continuing, “It’s getting late, we should get to sleep now.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re thinking about,” Sunny plead.

Graphite rolled over once more, facing towards the wall - and away from Sunny completely, “Maybe in the morning...”

Sunny blew a sigh before rolling over - facing the complete opposite of Graphite, “Sure - the morning... goodnight.”

“‘Night...”

The room fell silent, the only noise made was from the gentle hum of the bunker; the silence that echoed off the cold walls again and again. Graphite was still wide awake, his thinking interrupting his concentration again. He had an empty feeling, the only thing to base his feeling on was what Ligature had told him earlier. He had missed a perfect change to tell her; it was too late now though. Sunny was probably fast asleep already, and Graphite was suppose to be. He wanted to turn around and wake her, but there was just too much nervousness keeping him down. He stared at the walls - littered in a tacky wallpaper that was half glued on to the concrete. He yawned again, a real yawn this time around. His eyelids fell over themselves, his regret going away as the darkness overshadowed his eyes. He let out a short sigh, then fell asleep.

Chapter 20: No Need to Worry

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Graphite was sitting knee high in a puddle of mud, his foxhole was flooded in mucky water from the last night’s downpour. It rained too often on Hill 187, the tropical island seemed just as tropical as any other, the rains that were showering the island just a the night before made up for the lack of vegetation in the tropics. The were little trees and just a few patches of grass scattered around; but other than that, the rest was dirt. The dirt could be seen as a curse or a blessing, depending which side of the battlefield you’re on. It was hard to move supplies through the mud, wagons couldn’t make it through the deeper puddles and supplies had to be carried manually - but the same was true for the zebras. Graphite’s task seemed just as challenging as dragging boxes through the mud - perhaps slightly more deadly. He was assigned to defend the mortar crews, orders received straight from the high command.

Graphite was sitting on an incline just on the edge of one of the hills on the bigger hill everyone else was sitting on. The ledge looked over a long forgotten farm. There was one shack left still intact, sitting on one of the many crests on the hill. The wood was dark, the building looked plastered together, and the roof had more holes than there were zebras hiding on the island. There hadn’t been any zebra movement across the farmland in the last few days. Nothing rustling in the lost dead wheat grains, no shadows across the burnt down shacks and the run down carts, nothing passing through the grazing lands.

Graphite was sitting calmly in his foxhole, a cigarette smoking on the ends of his lips. He paned his eyes from the farmland back to the incline he was sitting on. A few soldiers moving into position, others moving equipment - one looking a bit awkward as he did. That one was Spotty, trotting up the hill while trying to keep from stumbling over his own hooves. On his belt were a pair of binoculars, living up to his name as a spotter for one of the mortar crews. He made his way down the mountain, paired with another mare tagging just along side. That mare was the executive officer, recognized only by the big, bold insignia that was stamped on the shoulder pads of her combat armor. She was dark tan in the coat and her mane was a blue just as dark. Her mane was short cut, almost as short as all the stallions around her.

They both came down the hill, stopping by Graphite’s foxhole quickly. Spotty slid into the foxhole, greeting Graphite with a pat on his back, “How’s it been, Graphite?” He asked merrily.

“I’ve been better,” Graphite scolded, but gave him a grin anyways.

“Good - and - I’ve got the ‘X-O’ here with me-” Spotty stepped back as the officer came in front.

“According to our reports, Spotty, they have been moving back into that ridge,” The mare pointed out to the shack on the left, “A couple of our soldiers have seen Zebras moving in and out from that shack to the left. I want a round on it.” The mare left, leaving Spotty with a range finder and a walkie-talkie.

The walkie-talkie was a big, tin block with two speakers at the top and bottom. One on the top for ponies to yell at you, and one at the bottom to yell back.

Spotty placed the range finder on the edge of the of the foxhole and took some quick measurements. He grabbed for the walkie-talkie and dialed in the coordinates, “‘X-O’ wants a round on the farmhouse in sector two. Azimuth three one zero. Range three hundred. One round - HE.”

All of this didn’t make any sense to Graphite, but apparently some pony on the other end of that radio understood it as he heard some mumbling from it. Soon, a bang came from the top of the hill and a round exploded just right of the shack which Spotty was targeting. It made a nice bit of dirt fly into the air, but it wasn’t what he was after.

“Left, two zero. Add fifty and try again,” Spotty grumbled and corrected the coordinates.

Another bang came from the top of the hill and a round hit the shack, blowing it to pieces. Wood scraps flew into the air, coupled with another ton of dirt to litter the farmland even further.

“Target. Market concentration Bravo for this sector,” Spotty finished and turned off the walkie-talkie with a flick of a switch.

“Well, I think that’s a-” Spotty was interrupted by a loud roar screaming out of the crests on the hill.

Spotty and Graphite and the rest of the soldiers lining the ledge on that hill all turned towards the farmlands, looking on as a party of Zebras flooded out of the hills - screeching at the top of their lungs as they charged. The soldiers all stormed down the cliff, jumping head first into their foxholes as the zebras came in head first through the farm.

Spotty brought out his rifle, one of the new Black Rifles they released recently. He aimed down the sights, his battle saddle holding it still as he took aim. Graphite pushed the gun down by the barrel, looking towards Spotty, “Wait until they’re closer,” He commanded.

Spotty knelt down a bit, setting his gun aside, waiting quietly as the enemy charged loudly. Every Equestrian soldier waiting on that ridge was ducked behind their foxhole, their guns gripped tight near them as they waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

Another moment of stomping, another moment of war cries, and another moment of they moved forward. Graphite brought his rifle out to his front, aiming down the scope for a clean shot at the first zebra in the crowd. It took him not even a blink of an eye to aim and fire a shot - hitting the zebra square in his heart before the bullet shot out the other end and hit the ground. The zebra fell hard, some of his followers dazed and confused.

Suddenly, every pony on the ridge stood to their hooves and let out all their bullets at the enemy. The hail of bullets was deafening; gunfire drowned out gunfire as the bullets whizzed, guns banged, shells clanged, and magazines dropped. The bodies ahead dropped and dropped, not a single zebra making it up the ridge. The gunfire was mixed over the screams of the dying zebras and the shouts of the killing ponies. The bullets fired on, Spotty burning through magazine after magazine of his rifle. Graphite picked his rounds carefully, though; firing only when he could get a shot at the head or the heart.

The last pony filed out of the hills screaming, and the last pony to file out of the hills dropped dead with a bullet hole in his head. The bullets still blasted on until a voice shouted out, “Hold your fire!”

The ‘X-O’ commanded a cease fire, and instantly, every soldier lowered their guns and stopped the fire. The farmlands ahead had turned into a graveyard; a graveyard where all the bodies stayed above ground. The dirt was red with the zebras blood, and the smell of gunpowder and death covered the air like a fog. Not a single zebra appeared to be alive, all of their bodies riddled with bullet holes.

The ponies ducked back down behind their foxholes once more, checking on ammo and wounded. Graphite and Spotty continued to survey the land, looking on as the bodies covered the entirety of the land. Spotty slapped Graphite on the shoulder, whispering to him, “I think I see one moving down there.”

Graphite set his rifle against the edge of the foxhole, holding it steady as he scanned the place where Spotty pointed through his scope. There was one zebra moving down there in no-one’s land. It looked like it was twitching, maybe the zebra was shot and now was left to bleed out. Graphite looked closer, seeing that the zebra looked rather small. He looked at the zebra’s face - then remembered what he was told about the zebra home guard.

“That’s a foal!” Graphite blurted out.

The company turned their heads out to the killing floor; squinting and tilting their heads trying to search for this foal. One mare screamed out, “I see him! Right down there!” She pointed vigorously towards the foal writhing at the bottom of the hill. Graphite couldn’t stand the sight of some little colt just sit there in the middle of a red sea - probably bleeding out as they speak. Graphite felt a strong feeling of pity and sorrow for the foal, but his orders were to stay put.

Suddenly, a gun dropped in the mud next to him, and the sound of a big object sliding through the dirt came from ahead of him. He swung his head over his foxhole - watching as Spotty dashed out into the middle of no-one’s land.

He barreled over bodies and through the thick mud, moving fast as he ducked low to avoid being seen. He had been seen, but by the crowd of onlookers back on the ridge. The watched dazed as this stallion darted through the field and reached for the colt. He leaned over, bending over a dead zebra as he reached out to grab him. A loud crack hit the air, then a terrible groan down back at the farmland.

Graphite ducked down, peeking only his eyes over the foxhole just far enough to spot Spotty on the ground, holding his hind leg as blood started to flow from it. Graphite looked on at the hills overlooking the opposite end of the farm - grabbing his rifle for what he knew was a sniper. He picked up his rifle from the mud, keeping it as low to the ground as he could.

Graphite leaned over the foxhole and took aim, searching every grain of dirt for a sign of the sniper. Spotty was still bleeding out, but there was a still a foal to save and a sniper to avoid. He dragged himself over a body, looking straight into the eyes of the petrified foal.

Graphite dragged his rifle right and left over the edge of his foxhole, looking for a glint of a scope, a rustle of grass, or even one pebble out of place - the sniper was hiding somewhere not even a trained sharpshooter like Graphite could find. Spotty had a hold of the colt, slowly trumping out of the field of bodies and back towards the hill.

There was another crack in the air, a metal clank, then the sound of a ricocheting bullet whizzing by Graphite. He bent down inside his foxhole again, coming up slowly and staring back down the scope. Spotty tripped over another body, trudged over another pile of zebras, and pulled the colt back over his shoulder as he slowly made his way out of the field. Graphite searched high and low for the sniper, to no avail. All of his training and all of his experience and he couldn’t find a sniper in land with no trees or bushes to hide behind.

Another gunshot and another dozen of heads ducking down. The shot missed completely, but there was still a sniper ready to fire again. Nothing in the hills. Graphite zoomed over the field, looking down at Spotty who was still trudging through muck and blood to carry out this foal. He was almost out, but there was that sense of urgency to kill the sniper before he could zero in on Spotty.

Graphite panned away from Spotty and back to the hills. He needed to think about where a sniper could hide - but this wasn’t a just a sniper, it was a zebra. He thought about where a zebra would hide, their guerrilla tactics and deception would mean a sniper could be hiding in the complete opposite place you would expect to find them. Suddenly, a thought. Graphite zoomed back over to the field and looked at every single one of the bodies. He neared the back of the crowd of dead and saw one body moving when it shouldn’t. It pulled the bolt on the gun he hid underneath him and slowly aimed down his scope.

Graphite smirked - he had found his target. He held his breath, took aim, and fired. A crack was heard through the air again. It zipped into flesh and bone and the scent of death was just that bit stronger. The zebra’s helmet rolled off his target of a cranium. Graphite dropped his gun and made his way to Spotty, who was halfway up the hill. He grabbed his hoof and pulled him up, taking the small colt as he let the soldiers take Spotty to the infirmary.

Running down the hill was the officer, taking up the injured foal from Graphite as he grabbed the colt from Spotty. She held him tight in her arms, like it was her own son, and whisked it off to the medical tents just a short walk over the hill. Graphite helped Spotty to the medics as well, only staying with him long enough for the nurses to take him away.

Graphite had to stay on the ridge of few hours longer, watching the farmland for anymore zebras -- or to make sure none of the dead zebras suddenly rose from the dead. Eventually the sun began to set, and the soldiers working the day shift swapped over with the soldiers running the night shift. Graphite climbed over the peak of the hill, then made his way straight to the infirmary - where Spotty was receiving care.

Graphite set his gun at the entrance to the tent, stepping inside while he looked over at all the dying ponies. One half of the tent was for the sick, the other the wounded. There wasn’t any more care for the one’s with cuts or the one’s missing a limb - they were all treated with whatever medical supplies the doctors and nurses had on supply. Spotty was sitting near the corner of the tent, between a stallion with bandages wrapped around his head and the young colt that he rescued earlier. The colt was sitting on a short stretcher - the only thing they could use as a bed - with some bandages around his leg. He was nibbling on some dry crackers from the ration packs. There wasn’t much the ponies would offer in the form of food for captured zebras.

Graphite came over to Spotty, who was lying on the stretcher and staring up the at the tent’s top. There was a gauze pad wrapped up in a mile of bandages around his thigh, it was stained in blood and didn’t look good. He walked over beside him, kneeling down to his level.

“Spotty,” He called.

“Huh- wha-” Spotty tumbled over, facing Graphite with a bit of a dozy look, “Oh hey, Graphite. How you’ve been?”

“I’ve been better,” Graphite said softly. “What about you? You look like you took quite a hit.”

“Y-yeah, I did...” Spotty wasn’t as up beat as he usually was. It was one part pain, other part high doses of sedatives.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Graphite asked, peeking back at his injured leg.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine... but, not for a while...”

“Hm?”

“Oh, it’s just that the bullet grazed through my knee - I’m not gonna be able to walk until that heals. So... the, uh- they gave me a leave, Graphite.”

“They gave you a leave, Spotty?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be headin’ out of here tomorrow mornin’. I’m going home, Graphite!” Spotty beamed wide, but also dazed by the excess sedatives.

“Back to Bucklyn, eh?”

“Yep, my family’s gonna get the word - I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re waitin’ for me now...”

Graphite rested his hand on his shoulder and shook it firmly, “I’m gonna miss ya’, Spotty.”

Spotty outstretched his arms, “Come here.”

“Wha-”

“-Come hug me you son of a bitch,” Spotty requested, waving his hooves over towards him. “Come on.”

He smiled big, looking just as confident as ever. Graphite was reluctant to come in and share the hug, but he looked back at his bleeding leg. “He wasn’t going to walk for at least a month - the least you could do is hug the stallion,” Graphite thought to himself. He looked back over to his face, then leaned in for a quick hug.

“See, isn’t that better,” Spotty said sarcastically. “Oh, you know I got a medal for this stupid leg wound?”

“You mean the Pink Butterfly?”

“Yeah - that one you get for getting shot while on duty.”

“At least you get something back for being shot in the leg,” Graphite stood back up, still by Spotty’s side.

“Yep...”

The doctor came over to the stretcher Spotty was laying on, tapping Graphite on the shoulder to grab his attention, “The patient needs his rest.”

“Ah don’t worry, doc, he’s not botherin’ me,” Spotty rolled over again to face the doctor.

The doctor was a tall, lime green unicorn. His mane was cut short and frazzled by stress and hard work. He had a red coat - it used to be white, but the soldiers tend to bleed. His chin was riddled in patches of fuzz, and his mouth looked a bit dry, “I’m sure he’s not, but ‘ou need your rest, Spo’y,” The doctor ordered in a strong accent.

“Sure thing, Doc,” Spotty closed his eyes and laid he hooves under his head, pretending to sleep.

Graphite stepped out of the way of the doctor, chuckling at Spotty’s antics. He trotted out through the aisles of hurt ponies, grabbing his rifle that was still sitting at the entrance. He jumped back down the hill, sliding down to his foxhole once more. The mud was still a bit damp, still sticking to anything that touched it. Graphite hugged his rifle then sunk into his hole, closing his eyes to rest.

The hill beside him was pummeled by a boom; a boom loud enough to deafen Graphite and cause his ears to ring violently. Graphite dropped down deeper into his foxhole, grabbing the his head with both hooves and covering tight as he rolled into his foxhole. The hill trembled again, another whoosh from the sky pounded the ground and shot crumbled gravel into the air. The artillery shells were like thunder strikes - just as loud and just as dangerous. The hill continued to be bombarded by the artillery - the shells exploding closer and closer to the ridge. Graphite screamed, as the bombs blasted piece by piece away of the hill and the edge of his foxhole.

He was shaken and shaken, the grip of the explosions strong on his chest. Graphite opened his eyes, and realized Sunny’s hooves were planted on his chest as she shook him, calling out, ‘Graphite!’

“Huh, what?”

“You were screaming in your sleep.” Sunny looked worried, “What happened?”

“I-it was nothing,” Graphite tried to assure.

“Graphite, that was something. It would be better if you’d tell me.”

“Okay, but I don’t see how this helps,” Graphite took a breath. “Ever since I got unfrozen, I’ve been seeing dreams - nightmares. They’re flashbacks of the war, memories that can never seem to leave my thoughts.”

“But flashbacks shouldn’t make any pony scream in the middle of the night,” Sunny commented with concern.

“It shouldn’t, I know - but it’s not my fault. Whenever I have these dreams, I feel everything like I was there. I can hear all the screaming, all the gunfire, all the- the-”

Graphite looked heated, sweating and a bit choked in his voice. Sunny saw his plight, grabbing his hoof gently from under the sheets before looking into his eyes, “Maybe you should try thinking about something positive before you go to bed.”

Graphite felt the warm touch of Sunny’s hoof on his. He paused, gripping her hoof tighter as he looked up to Sunny, “You really think that would work?”

Sunny scooted closer to Graphite, her eyes beaming into Graphite’s - but he didn’t mind. It was a lovely shade of orange that could brighten up anyone who stares into them long enough. Graphite started to smile, still hot from nervousness.

“It works for me,” Sunny smiled. “If I ever feel bad before I go to sleep, I just think about the ones I love.”

“You mean your family or-”

“-All of them. My family downtown, Sierra, even my dog Nero. Anyone I hold close.”

Graphite sighed, taking a moment to think - the thing he was best at. His family came to mind almost instantly. He remembered his mother first, the care she gave him; he remembered his favourite meal she used to make him, a pea and carrot stew with a dash of a ‘secret sauce’ - otherwise known as a mix of spices his mother made herself - that his mother would add in it to make it taste great. His father came to mind, he wasn’t around as much thanks to his long hours on the harbour. There weren’t many memories of his father, but he could always remember that he would take time out of anything to tell Graphite a story. His stories usually involved the ships he saw come into the harbour, but it the way he told that made it so interesting and entertaining. After his parents, there wasn’t many ponies in mind. He was an only foal, not many foals his age lived in his apartment, not many friends of the family. He stopped his thoughts, Sunny was still waiting over him waiting for an response. Sunny was in his thoughts now.

The way she made him smile, the way she could find light in a dark situation, the way she moved, the way she talked - Graphite hadn’t a dark thought in his mind in that moment. Graphite looked into Sunny’s eyes, “Yeah, I can think of a few ponies close to me...”

“Good, wanna try and not wake me up in the middle of night now?” Sunny giggled.

“Alright,” Graphite smiled back.

Sunny lied back down on her pillow, whispering ‘goodnight’ in his ear then a quick kiss on his cheek. Her eyes closed and she let out a small sigh before she started fast asleep. Graphite’s eyes widened, his cheeks turning a fancy shade of red. He looked down at his hoof, still gripped tight by Sunny’s hoof. Graphite couldn’t feel any warmer in that moment even if he stood out and baked himself in the radiation. He had the same amount of warmth - and no side effects. With a smile on his face, he laid his head on his pillow. He was staring at a barren ceiling, just before closing his eyes. He dreamed of himself as a farmer, farming crops of wheat and corn. He woke back up in the morning not know why he had this dream, but he was thrilled to see he had a dream rather than another bleak memory.

Chapter 21: A Thing Called Love

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Graphite was still lying in bed - awake, but too groggy to start getting out of bed. Sunny was starting wake, getting up as soon as she finished her morning stretches. Graphite flipped over, watching Sunny grab her worn leather jacket and slipping it on before stepping into the kitchen. Graphite groaned, deciding a few more minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt anyone. He grabbed the bed sheets and pulled them over his shoulder, closing his eyes to try and fall asleep again. It didn’t work, he was still awake, and the bunker was still uncomfortably cold. He tossed the bedsheets away, slowly sliding over the edge of the bed on unto the ground. He stretched out his back, planting his hind hooves on the floor as he pulled his body forward - stretching out forward until it cracked back into place. With a sigh, he moved over to the kitchen.

Ligature was wide awake. She was in the kitchen by a steaming pot; it smelled like coffee was brewing in it, Graphite was pleased by the smell. The last cup of coffee Graphite had was back in Stripe’s Bar, when he first came into that dreaded place. He wouldn’t forget that moment he saw Sunny bring him his morning coffee and oatmeal. It was a good coffee; not great, but after a long night’s battle with the raiders, it helped perk him up. Graphite waved a hello to Ligature as he passed by, “Morning, Graphite,” Sunny spoke out from the chair. Graphite waved to her too, slowly making his way to the bathroom. He stepped into the damp room, the air was thick with moisture that was still trapped in the room with only the drains to run down or the holes in the leaky pipes. His armour was still sitting by the doorway where he left it, gathering dust from the musky bathroom. Pulling the armour to him, Graphite shook off the dust before stepping in to each section of armour. Pants, chest-plate, and the duster to go over. Graphite tugged his duster to his view, looking at all the bullet holes, tears, and the bite marks that were on the end of the duster. It’s amazing how much a stallion could ruin a suit in only a few days.

Graphite stopped himself for a moment, realizing the time. After a pause, Graphite realized it had been no longer than two weeks since his trip from the exhibition to where he was now, sitting in the bottom of a bunker. Time just seems to find ways of bending itself; whether it’s going by when you’re doing what you want, or dragging on when you’re doing what you need. Graphite caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors above the sinks, spotting something he didn’t remember having. There was a bruise on his cheek, and he wasn’t sure where he got it from. It could have came from the hike over the rubble, the fight between the Talons he had recently.

The smell of the coffee was fluttering through the bunker, filling the air with its strong scent. Graphite trotted out the bathroom quickly to catch the first batch of coffee.

He trotted out to the kitchen. Ligature already had her hooves on a cup of coffee, she had her dirty cloak on to keep her warm through the cool morning in the bunker. Graphite grabbed his mug and trotted over to the pot. There looked like there was only enough for one more cup; Graphite had the pot in his levitation spell and was about to pour, but he remembered Sunny who was still on the chair with some buttered toast on a paper plate. Graphite was focused on Sunny chewing her food with his cup in his telekinesis, when a plate appeared under his view, “Here’s some toast - I have it all ready for you, Graphite,” Ligature smiled as she pushed the toast towards him.

Graphite grabbed the plate of toast and said, “Thank you, Ligature.”

“Of course,” Ligature replied before trotting away to the bedroom. She probably went to make the bed. Graphite grabbed one of the chairs from the table again and slid it over to Sunny. He rested the plate in his lap and took a large bite of the buttered toast. Sunny faced towards Graphite, swallowing her bite of toast, “Boy, Graphite, I feel like I’m eating a pre-war breakfast - like the ones they show on posters. Did you eat this a lot?”

“You mean toast,” Graphite mumbled with a mouthful of the bread.

“Yeah, toast. It seems so simple, but it’s really good.”

“Yeah, we had it a lot; it’s something that’s really cheap and really easy to make.”

“Oh, ‘cause I like it. What else did you eat for breakfast, Graphite?”

“Well besides toast,” Graphite took another mouthful of his toast and continued, muffled, “We also had oatmeal, and usually cereal - those are the basic breakfast meals.”

“Those do sound pretty basic, there wasn’t much else I guess?”

“Nothing we could afford; but, on holidays, my papa would take me to the nearby diner to order some hotcakes-”

“-Cake? For breakfast?”

“No no no, it’s not like cake,” Graphite asserted, finishing off his last bite of toast and his last sip of coffee. “Oh, did you want me to get you some coffee?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Graphite - just tell me about the uh, ‘hotcakes’.”

“Oh yeah, um- well, hotcakes are like flat... um, cakes made of-”

“-Oh, so they are cakes, eh?” Sunny scoffed with a grin.

“No, it’s not- it’s like a cake, though. It’s made with flour, milk, eggs, and stuff like that. Then you take the batter, pour it in a circle on a pan over the oven, and wait until it cooks to a golden brown.”

Sunny stepped off the chair and took her plate to the kitchen. She grabbed a drink of her canteen water then walked back over to Graphite, “Well when you put it like that, it sounds pretty good.”

Graphite just chuckled, placing his plate over Sunny’s and setting the cup in the sink. He rinsed it out of the coffee that was sitting in the bottom of the cup. Just about that time, Ligature came back from the room, “Looks like you lot finished your breakfast - I hope you enjoyed the toast, dears,” She affirmed.

Sunny came by, still smiling as wide as ever, “Oh yes, it was delicious, Ligature - thanks for the meal.”

“Oh yes, thank you for the food, Ligature,” Graphite added as well.

Ligature grinned through her wrinkles, showing a bit of her teeth - or whatever was still dangling from her gums. They looked rotted and almost black, and chipped too. It was a bit hard to look at, but a smile was a smile, and made Graphite feel a bit happier with himself, “Oh, it’s no problem at all, just keeping my guests happy,” Ligature said as she trotted to the living room.

“I imagine you two will be going your way soon,” She guessed, sighing a bit.

“I think we will do that just now,” Sunny replied.

“Yeah- yes, we should,” Graphite answered with a stammer.

“I wish that you both could stay here for a while longer. You’re the first guests I’ve had in over fifty years.”

“We’d really love to stay, but we should head out while it’s still morning,” Sunny commented.

“Okay,” Ligature sighed, “Don’t let me keep you then.”

The duo grabbed their things and made their way towards the rusty ladder leading to the surface. Sunny turned to Ligature one more just before they left, “Maybe some day we can come back and visit you -- if we ever find the time?”

“Yes - visit me whenever you want, I don’t mind at all. I’m happy to know someone out there will remembers I still exist,” Ligature assured with they biggest smile a ghoul could muster without tearing her cheeks.

She came over to Graphite and Sunny, wrapping her wrinkled and charred arms around their bodies and hugging them close. The two didn’t say a word; caught off guard by the sudden hug and the disturbing feel of her dead skin on their bodies. Sunny tried to ignore it, but Graphite had every bit of his body curdle with an uneasy feeling. Even through the suit, the oddly warm feel of her arms were seeping through.

Ligature soon leaned away, a tear almost forming in her dried eyes as they started to leave. Sunny waved by as she started her way up the ladder, the bars creaking with every step. Graphite stepped up to the ladder, but Ligature stopped him just before he started climbing, “Wait,” She implored with a hoof on his shoulder.

“Yes, L-ligature?” Graphite stammered, looking back at the aging unicorn.

“Don’t forget what I told you last night, Graphite - don’t miss your chance on her.”

“I know, Ligature. I remember.”

“But don’t forget,” Ligature left him off with a pat on his shoulder. “Goodbye, Graphite.”

Graphite rested his hoof on the ladder, looking back to Ligature. The hood covered her face with its shadow. If Graphite didn’t know any better, she was just another old mare. He worked a small smile, “Goodbye, Ligature.”

The mare waved him off as he climbed up out the light, into the darkness, and back into light. Sunny was waiting for him just outside the trap door; she helped Graphite up with a firm grasp on his hoof. She pulled him up as he pushed himself out, joining with each other again on the surface.

It was just at the start of morning outside, the sun beaming more rays through the daunting skyscrapers and the thick cloud of ash, shimmering off the dust that filled the streets, the air, and everything else. The two ponies closed the hatch to the bunker, sealing Ligature safely inside the cold bunker. It made a loud thunk as closed the only entrance in or out of that small home below the earth. The weaved passed the destroyed counters and out the rubble of what was once a wall.

They walked down the middle of the street, continuing in what seemed the best direction out of the epicentre. They stepped through more sheets of ash, and over more shadows of the lives burnt down by the blast. There were more casts of ponies’ shades across the walls along the buildings. One building was covered in a dark shade of black, a crowd of ponies all wiped out unto this one wall. They both stopped to look at the grim picture painted on the wall, standing silent with respect to those lives lost in an instant.

“This wall needs a mural,” Sunny said softly and somberly, looking down towards her hooves just for the moment. Graphite was silent, taking another moment to stare at the wall, “Was there nothing I could’ve done for these ponies,” Graphite uttered quietly.

Sunny turned to him, “No, but you were fighting for these ponies - you did enough.”

“No, it wasn’t enough... These ponies still died even after I’ve risked my life to save them.”

Sunny turned away from the wall and towards Graphite, “There’s nothing you could have done, Graphite-”

“-That’s the problem,” Graphite interrupted. “The least I could do is be there with them in their last moments; be another victim and join them to wherever they’ve gone.”

“You would rather be known as just another statistic than a national war hero?”

Graphite paused, the thoughts growing deeper in his mind, “Maybe I would - I wouldn’t have to carry this guilt on my chest if I died in the blasts.”

Sunny sighed and turned back to face the mass grave burning in the wall, “You can’t save everyone, Graphite. It’s war, there’s nothing to war if a few ponies don’t lose their lives. You’ve helped more ponies than probably any other pony in Equestria, why do you feel guilty about this?” Sunny turned about, leaving the conversation and the crowd of the dead that was listening.

Graphite was still stuck in his spot, his eyes glued to the wall. He turned to Sunny’s direction, watching as she slowly fleets away from him. Back to the wall, and back to Sunny. Graphite turned to the ends of the streets, then followed after Sunny. They moved on and on down the lonely road together, taking the burdens of being haunted and stalked by the shadows of past lives on their shoulders. Their pace steadied out into a gentle stroll; they were walking side by side down the ash covered road.

“So, Graphite,” Sunny said to fill the void of silence, “I heard Ligature talking to you right when we left her bunker, What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing, she was just saying her goodbyes,” Graphite answered.

“A special goodbye just for you, Graphite? Maybe a kiss on the cheek for the big boy,” Sunny giggled while she made a face at Graphite.

“It was nothing,” Graphite chuckled.

“It had to be a very special nothing to have to be kept secret, eh?”

“Why do you want to know, Sunny?”

“I’m just curious,” Sunny smiled.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“What?” Sunny turned to Graphite with her brow raised.

“Curiosity killed that cat -- it’s a, uh- saying.”

“That’s a very sad saying, Graphite; I don’t see how curiosity could kill a cat.”

“It’s just a saying, Sunny - don’t worry about the cat,” Graphite assured stubbornly.

“Okay, I just don’t approve of such a saying,” Sunny chortled.

Graphite wasn’t sure if she was serious or just pulling his leg, but it did help to lighten the mood. The two daring ponies continued on their journey through the wretched city. They were starting to leave the heart of downtown, the ashes covering the broken streets was starting to ease away. The level of debris and destruction was starting to ease away as well, moving from whole buildings blown away to just half of the building blown off. The blank sky looked just the same - blank. Graphite stared up towards the barren sky, looking on as the ash plume had stayed behind them and leaving only one cloud floating in the wind.

“That’s strange,” Graphite mumbled to himself.

Sunny kept her pace ahead of Graphite, but looked back when she heard him speak, “What’s strange?”

“There’s a cloud coming in, I thought there weren’t any clouds in this part of the city.”

Sunny looked up at the light sky, covering her eyes from the rays of sunlight, “There isn’t,” Sunny announced. “It’s probably going rain soon.”

“You mean that black rain?”

“Maybe, most of the time it’s the clean stuff, but every so often you get that black rain.”

“I don’t think I can remember what real rain was like; it rained once since I got out of the exhibition - it was black rain of course,” Graphite made a sort of pout with his snout, looking back up at the slowly passing cloud.

“Aw yes, my first black rain wasn’t so pleasant either, I was caught outside playing in it and the stuff was stick in my fur for weeks - luckily I didn’t stay out in it too lon-”

Sunny was cut off by a distinct noise coming from somewhere in the down turned buildings. Sunny stopped in her tracks, looking about every corner and alley of the dead buildings. Graphite came up beside her slowly, preparing the shotgun he had buried in his bag and had almost forgot about. He pumped the handle, seeing it was loaded already, “I have a pretty good idea what that noise was,” Graphite whispered to Sunny.

“Yes, I’m pretty familiar with it, Graphite,” Sunny commented, moving her hoof over the top of Graphite’s gun and lowering it.

“What are you do-”

“-Trust me, Graphite.”

Graphite would usually swat away the hoof and bring his gun back to the ready, but there was unruly amount of trust he felt towards Sunny. He lowered his gun, but still standing in a solid fighting stance by force of habit. The noise echoed out again, it was a low growl - something like a dog’s heavy howl. The growl was joined by a loud bark, then a loud orchestra of woofs and barks. The pack of four hounds rolled out of hiding, darting towards the two ponies.

Graphite brought his shotgun back up, but his reaction was denied by Sunny again, “No, Graphite!”

“They’re coming right for-”

Sunny galloped away, leaving Graphite confused. He was going to fire, but he might hit Sunny - but the dogs would surely kill her. He went back and forth incessantly in his mind, figuring out how to react to the situation. Sunny was already halfway to the pack of feral hounds, and they were halfway to her. Graphite tried to run after to her, but he couldn’t move his hooves any further in any direction. He was caught between going after Sunny and saving himself.

The dogs were nearing Sunny, but were starting to slow their pace. They stilled were snarling and drooling over themselves, but were slowing down as they came closer to Sunny. Sunny was also slowing down her pace, gradually moving from a gallop to a trot. Graphite gnashed his teeth, wanting to call out, but knew the dogs would run after him.

Sunny slowed down her trot to an almost stop, moving ahead one hoof at a time. The dogs were almost dragged down by Sunny; as she slowed down, so did they. Graphite could barely see Sunny at his distance now, but he could tell that she was still beaming with a bright smile. Graphite was just left even more confused, watching as Sunny smiled just before meeting her doom.

Graphite remembered how her smile could brighten up any pony’s day, he remembered this when he saw the looks of the dogs turn flip from wild killers to calm puppies. Like her own pets, the demon dogs came up to Sunny with complete care and nuzzled their rotted snouts against her legs.

Graphite dropped his shotgun, the peak of his confusion had been meet at this moment. Sunny was petting the animal’s heads and rubbing their burnt and molted bellies. Graphite found his sense of motion, and began a trot towards Sunny.

He came up behind Sunny as the dogs played at her hooves; but as Graphite came by, the dogs suddenly became defensive again. Sunny calmed them down quickly, shushing them and warding them away from Graphite while she assured the animals Graphite was a friend. They came to quickly, Sunny directing Graphite to pet the wild dogs as she kept them still.

Graphite was very reluctant to even get near the radiated hounds, but the trust he felt from Sunny was still overpowering him. He brought his hoof out to the nearest pup, feeling as it guided itself to brush against his hoof. Graphite eased up, knowing the dog wasn’t going to bite that same hoof right off of his arm. He lowered himself down to Sunny, sitting down as the dogs laid with them.

Graphite sat almost nervously, letting the hounds brush against his legs, “I can’t believe this, Sunny,” Graphite stated in surprise.

“Well, believe or not, Graphite - it’s happening,” Sunny smiled wide as the dogs playing around her.

“I just don’t understand how you tamed these damn dogs, I had to fight of a pack just like this right when I got into Buckago.”

“Well it’s really kind of easy, Graphite - everyone, and everything, just wants a little bit of love. Once you show them your compassion, they’ll turn a new leaf in a snap.”

“I wish ponies knew that before the war,” Graphite scolded.

Sunny just smiled, picking herself up to run around with the tamed hounds. Graphite stayed put with his dog by his side, resting with Graphite’s hoof on his head. He watched Sunny play with the dogs as the words delved into his mind. He thought about love as a weapon, how it could subdue even the hellish of creatures. He also thought how a lack of it could stir up those same beasts. Love is one of those things that makes the world spin, and one of those things that could make it tilt. It can be used for good, then twisted for evil. It was a confusing emotion, and Graphite didn’t enjoy emotions - he was just a victim of them.

Sunny grabbed one of the long splinters that came from the rubble of a building, using it as a stick to play fetch with the wild dogs. They two dogs playing with her would sprint haphazardly to grab the stick, then bite and scratch at each other to get a hold of it. The third dog was still resting gently under Graphite’s hoof, while the forth dog didn’t appear to be in sight. Graphite looked up to the skies, staring at the dark cloud tumbling into the area. The mist of rain in the distance showered the air in a dark haze. The skyline of the outer ends of the city was obscured by the mists. Graphite heard something dragging across the street; when he looked back, he saw the forth dog dragging a large plank across the street in his mouth. He could barely keep it up himself, but he carried with him anyways.

Suddenly, a loud boom - like an artillery firing of a round. Graphite flinched, whipping his head towards the air in search of the shell. There was no shell, and no artillery, just the sound of thunder cracking in the wind. The dogs whimpered then scattered at the loud noise, making their way to the refuge of the fallen buildings. Graphite got up to his feet, with Sunny coming by with her eyes staring at the storm cloud, “We should find some shelter before that storm comes,” She suggested.

“Yeah, maybe if we go further up the road we could find some building still intact.”

“And of course, that’s going towards the storm...” Sunny sighed to herself.

They moved on passed the next street corner and over another intersection, the next building looking no better than the last. They came across a bank that seemed to still be standing, but upon looking inside, the ceiling had caved in on itself - rusted bits scattered in the rubble. There was enough loose bits in the wreckage to buy out one of these buildings -- a toppled over building didn’t go for much anyways. They scooted back out, going back on the streets to look for a safe building to hide from the rain.

The storm cloud was closing in, the sound of the rain rushing through the air came into hearing. Their pace picked up greatly, taking no time to search around the buildings. They passed another intersection, a tall building was standing at the end of the street to the right. Graphite took the lead, moving with Sunny up that street to the building waiting for them.

They got up to the building. It was a tall building with a store sitting at the bottom. The store had a sign winding across the border of the store; the sign was half destroyed, only the ‘Boutique’ portion still legible. There were windows stamped across the store front, all of them broken and boarded up with old wooden planks. The storm was coming in; Sunny took the lead again and pushed the door open after a small struggle. They huddled inside, closing the door again as they ran inside.

Chapter 22: You Are My Sunshine

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The lights in the boutique were still on, though slowly dimming through time and some starting to flicker wildly. The inside was filled with uncovered mannequins, torn dresses, and spare pieces of cloth with sewing needles still thread through them. The room looked lived in, muddy tracks followed underneath some of the clothes along the solid tiled floors. There were also a few scattered cans and bags against one corner near the sales counter. Sunny poked through the forgotten suits and ripped dresses, sighing at the sight of one of the pink dresses burnt to a crisp. She picked it up, seeing that the dress was only long enough for a filly, probably a dress for that filly’s birthday. She dropped it on the floor where she found it, going through the rest of the litter.

Graphite was watching Sunny sort through the mess, watching her smile start to fade away. He thought for a moment, looking at the suits that were hanging on some racks in the corner. His eyes traveled up the line of suits on display up to a doorway in the back, most likely supplies or maybe some extra dresses. He decided to go check it out - maybe he could fix the flickering lights. He turned his head, Sunny was looking at herself in a mirror; she was holding a ruined dress over her body to see how it looked.

Graphite strolled around as she was distracted, moving quietly into the back room without Sunny’s noticing. He closed the door, keeping it open just a crack so it didn’t clank when it closed. There was barely any light, just enough to spot the power box. He popped it open with his magic, using his the magical surge around his horn to illuminate the panel. He fiddled around with the switches on the panel; flipping switches up and down, trying combination after combination. Eventually, he ended up tearing the cover off the panel and looking directly inside the power box. There were some cables loose and others unplugged completely. He snapped one cord back in, jumping back as the box sparked a bit. The lights faded out completely before slowly coming back on.

“Graph- Graphite, where are you? What’s up with the lights?” Sunny shouted from back in the main room.

“I’m working on it, Sunny!” Graphite shouted back.

The lights ceased flickering after another couple of switches flipped. The room he was standing in suddenly lit up, one little light bulb on the ceiling came on after finishing with the power. In the light, Graphite noticed he had turned the power to the emergency setting. Everything seemed to be working fine now, so he just shrugged and moved on. Graphite was about to go back to the main room when he noticed something on a table against the wall - a yellow pile of fabric, folded into a very neat square. Graphite decided to unfold it and see what it really was.

It was a yellow dress -- or maybe more of a gold. It was medium cut with the sleeves folded. The dress was waved with pleats that went from the bottom of the v-neck down to the bottom of the dress. To finish off the design, there was a black belt that was secured in the back by a thread - it was obviously there just for the looks. He decided to take the dress to Sunny; after all, it might be just what what she was looking for.

Graphite took the dress with his telekinetic spell, shaking out the dust and straitening out the creases as he trotted through the door. Sunny was near the counter, filing through some burnt socks and sweaters. There was an old mattress underneath her behind the counter, probably where the previous owner stayed for the night. Graphite came up beside her, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Hey, Sunny?” Graphite called as Sunny continued sorting through the junk, “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Sunny turned to Graphite. As soon as she noticed the yellow dress floating in Graphite’s spell she dropped the shreds she was holding with a gasp. Her eyes beamed with excitement and she smiled wide, then proceeded to hug Graphite tight, “It’s better than anything I imagined!” She shouted.

Graphite was a bit stunned at the sudden show of affection, but he let his agitation go to the point of hugging Sunny back. Sunny slipped out of his hug, taking the dress from Graphite’s levitation. She looked up and down the pleats and running her hoof down the fine silk threads. She fiddled around with the belt, checking if it still buckled after all the years its been sitting in a dusty room. She held it over her chest and looked down to see how she would look wearing it.

“Maybe you should just try it on,” Graphite suggested, undoing the belt on the dress it had lightly buckled.

“Yeah! Of course, I’ll just slip it on now-”

“-Oh,” Graphite turned around, covering his eyes with one hoof as he looked away from Sunny. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Sunny, covered her mouth and giggled, “You can be really silly sometimes, Graphite. I hope you realize this.”

“I just don’t want to be rude,” Graphite said, still covering his eyes.

“We’re both mature ponies here, Graphite - I don’t see why you have to worry.”

“I thought you wanted to try out that dress - I don’t see why you keep stalling.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m changing now,” Sunny asserted, sliding her saddlebag off her body and letting it fall on the floor.

“Good, I’m curious too see you in that dress just as much as you,” Graphite mentioned.

She unzipped her jacket and shook it off, letting it hit the floor while the things in the pockets rattled around. She slipped the dress over her head, pulled the sleeves down, and slipped her arms through. Sunny pulled the belt tight and locked it in through the buckle, “It fits perfectly!” Sunny exclaimed with wide smile.

“You can look now, Graphite,” She mocked, striking a pose like a portrait just as Graphite turned around.

Graphite was awestruck, almost speechless until Sunny asked, “What do you think?”

“I love it! What about you, Graphite - what do you think?” She said smiling a mile wide.

Graphite struggled to ease out his words, “You- you look gorgeous, Sunny.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. If there was a dance happening now, It would be an honor to take you there with me,” Graphite grinned. He felt unsettled, nervous over what Sunny would be thinking. He could have just said ‘yes’ and left it there, but he was overcome with feelings. He scratched the back of his leg using the other one, waiting for a response.

“Why don’t we make a dance of our own?” Sunny proposed, turning forward to face Graphite. “This store seems big enough, and your Pip-Buck has a radio in it!”

Graphite paused, happy from the response but worried by the proposal. He paused; he wanted to avoid the situation, but also dearly wanted to follow along, “I dunno Sunny, it’s been a very long time since I’ve danced and I’m not sure if I can still do it.”

“It’s okay. I’ve never really danced before in my life,” Sunny grinned and grabbed Graphite by the hoof. “Now, lets go and get you out of that armor and into something more fitting.”

“I think that I’ll find something myself,” Graphite said with a bit of a worry in his voice. He was a grown stallion and it would be very awkward for him if a mare helped him to pick his clothes.

“Okay, I’ll just wait for you over here then,” Sunny replied, sitting down on a pillow laying in a corner, still adoring her new dress.

Graphite went along the shelves. The suits for stallions were deeper in the store and there were more left than he had imagined. They seemed to be in better condition than any of the scraps near the front, maybe the ponies that came here first were too lazy or too scared to venture into the back of the store. There was also a wall separating the suits from the rest of the mare’s clothes, this probably stopped the scorch seeing that all the dresses beside the suits were burnt and brittle and the suits were simply covered in soot.

He dusted a few of the blazers and overcoats down with his hoof, swatting away the ash that came off after the sweeping. They were all sizes too big and too small for Graphite; so, Graphite pressed on, shuffling sideways as he scanned the suits. He shifted aside the suits on the hangers, sliding them away as he looked at the size and colour. He filed through one by one until one suit finally caught his attention.

It was a light blue suit, almost faded blue. It was matched with the same colour tie that was stripped in a darker blue. The was also a button up shirt tagged along with it, a peachy colour all the way through. Graphite instantly remembered his graduation, this suit was almost completely identical to the suit he wore during that day. He snagged the suit, grabbing the button-up from falling as he pulled the suit from the rack.

Graphite peeked over to Sunny, who was waiting patiently for Graphite. She was rubbing the dress down, fitting it over arms more comfortably and dusting out the last patches of dust on the dress. Graphite moved over to the backroom, still keeping his manners in line as he shut the door to change. Sunny chuckled, slumping down against the wall.

The light was still dim in the room, it was only enough to light up from his body up, his legs lost somewhere in the shadows. He unstrapped his backpack, pulled off his duster, tugged off his chest-plate, then slipped out of his cargo pants after undoing the extensive belt. He grabbed the suit from the table, shaking out the wrinkles using his telekinesis. He glared at the blue suit and peach button-up, thoughts of his parents moving into his mind. Graphite slipped the wallet he had in his duster’s pocket, sliding his old wallet out and opening it up. There was still an aged photograph of his parents and himself with Graphite wearing his blue graduation suit. He sighed a deep sigh, tossing his wallet back on the crumpled mess of his armour.

First went on the peach button-up shirt, then the blue blazer that went over it. He tied his tie after a few attempts. After he saw he had his suit all in order, he trotted back through the door - Sunny jumping to her hooves when the door opened.

“Wow! Gee, Graphite, I’ve seen you in armour and I’ve seen you naked, but this is probably the best you’ve looked by far.”

“Umm, thanks for the compliment, Sunny-”

“-Oh, hold on a second,” She reached her hooves to Graphite, fixing the pads on the suits of the shoulder, straightening out his tie, picking off the bits of dirt still stuck on the sleeves, and finally doing one last check over him.

“There,” Sunny admired, “Perfect, just like one of those stallions in the posters.”

“I guess so,” Graphite grinned with an uncomfortable amount of glee. “Well, we can’t have a dance without music, right?” Graphite brought up his Pip-Buck and turned the dial on the side until the volume came up enough so both of them could here music throughout the main room. It was playing something a bit classical, so Graphite flipped over to another station. He didn’t have this station back in the bunker, it was 89.2 FM.

The station was playing rock n’ roll, something easier to dance to than the slow tempo of classical. Graphite stepped into the middle of the room with Sunny, starting to choke up when he realized he had to dance when he had completely forgot how.

Graphite sighed over the music before turning to Sunny, “Neither of us can dance, you know.”

Sunny just giggled, grabbing Graphite by the hoof, “Well, it’s never to late to learn. Besides, it can’t be too hard - just move around with the beat!”

They got closer together, making sure they could both keep each other up as they started to move one hoof after the other. It started out as a few out of sync skips and steps, followed by one tripping over the other. The two got right back up after their falls, helping the other up as they shared laughs and continued dancing around. They started improving, the skips starting to match along with the beat. They tried a few kicks, going no higher than their elbows, taking all caution not to kick the other. The songs flipped through more and more upbeat rock with plenty of rhythm. Graphite was bouncing around while Sunny skipped about, the both of them giving their all in their dancing. Graphite was moving into the song, grabbing Sunny and swinging her around. She lost her grip, but was amazed at the daring move. She jumped at him with a quick hug, going back to keep moving her hooves.

Graphite was getting exhausted, but kept going thanks to Sunny’s encouragement. She would swing him around every other beat, and he would just perk up and keep dancing. They were just at the peak of their excitement, then the songs switched to something slightly different. The pace was slowing down, the rhythm was smooth and mellifluous, the tone a lot quieter. Sunny slowed down with the music, almost to a stop when tempo changed from swinging around to a two step. Graphite almost stopped as well, but when he recognized the song, he began to hum the tune. He came up to Sunny, humming the tune with passion. The chorus sprung up and he couldn’t help but continue humming along. Sunny was adoring the soft tone in Graphite’s hums. Graphite grasped Sunny’s hoof and lead her back to the middle of the room.

Sunny’s eyes couldn’t be any wider, the pupils catching the flushed lights on the ceiling. She rested her hoof on his shoulder, Graphite holding her side as they came close to dance an easy sway. They moved their bodies with the steady beats in the music, keeping close while they slowly spun around in an even circle. The song faded out, but Graphite and Sunny were still held close bobbing to the imaginary beat.

Graphite looked down to Sunny, her head lying on his other shoulder, “Sunny,” He whispered.

Sunny was almost dazed, probably just tired from the intense swinging and shaking from earlier. She looked up finally, her innocent eyes staring into Graphite’s more hardened looking glare, “Yes, Graphite?”

“Let’s... let’s get something to eat,” He murmured to her.

“Oh, sure,” Was all Sunny replied with.

She released herself from Graphite, going for the counter at the end of the shop. Graphite let her go, raising his brow when he noticed her bag wasn’t behind the counter but just aside his hooves. He trotted after Sunny, finding her with two glass bottles of some Sparkle Cola, “I found these buried behind the socks,” Sunny mentioned, setting them on the counter while she moved over to grab her bag. Graphite bent over to stare at the what else was hiding under the counter. He saw a start of a stockpile for Sparkle Cola and Sunrise Sarsaparilla. There was one water bottle, but it was drank a long while ago. He reared back over, seeing Sunny laying out a box of potato crisps on the dusty counter top. It was about half full, but nothing could go better with crisps than the bottles Cola and Sarsaparilla.

They spent just a few minutes crunching and munching through the salty crisps and drinking away the fizzy bottles of Cola.

“I can’t help but to think about before the war whenever I eat food like this,” Sunny said just before tossing in a few chips into her mouth.

“It seems to happen to you often, Sunny,” Graphite said while he popped a chip into his mouth too, keeping a bit a table manners with him when he chewed as calmly as he could over the crunchy crisp.

“I know it does, but the pre-war days are so interesting - and a lot happier.”

Graphite took a sip of his cola, using the bottle to emphasize his words, “Well, everything back then wasn’t all parties you know.”

“Yes, but at least you had parties. A luxury like that doesn’t come around when there’s almost nothing to celebrate.”

“Of course. Well, after the hard work was finished, there were some parties held for special events at the high school in Carnen.”

Sunny stopped silent for a short moment, then she remembered what Carnen was, “Oh. So, did you ever get to go to one?”

“No, never. I- uh- never had any pony to go with, so...” Graphite lost his words. He twiddled with the almost empty bottle of cola, spinning it around on his hoof quietly.

“Aww, I’m so sorry, Graphite,” Sunny reached over, holding Graphite’s hoof still with hers, “Well now you’ve been to a dance with me.” She smiled, keeping pure eye contact with Graphite.

Graphite took in a gulp, almost big enough for Sunny to notice. His hoof was warming up under Sunny’s. He tried to grip the counter, but his hoof would just start to slide towards himself. Sunny slid her hoof away and held it to her chest, “You feeling all right, Graphite?” She asked, troubled.

“I-i’m fine.” Graphite lied and looked down at the counter.

“You seem awfully nervous about something. Don’t worry, it’s just the two of us here, you can tell me.”

“Okay,” Graphite sighted, “Before the war I... I could never imagine that I could go up to a mare and talk to her... and now I’m here - dancing and dining with you.”

“Graphite are you nervous because of the dance?”

“No. Well, yes but not only because of that. For the last few days we’ve been together and you’re like no other pony I’ve been with. You’re the first pony which really makes me feel well. I-” Graphite stopped and Sunny gently grasped his hoof.

“I know what you’re trying to tell me,” Sunny smiled, “I know how hard it is to tell some pony else a thing like that.”

“I-i-i-” Graphite went on like a broken record. His cheeks went bright red, his arms were quivering just enough to feel the vibrations, and legs were shaking just the same. Sunny just smiled and kissed him on the forehead, paralyzing and silencing him completely. She pressed her own head against Graphite’s and they both looked down at their hooves clutched together on the counter.

“Do you remember that day back in Rossmore, when you first arrived?” Sunny murmured softly.

“Uh-huh,” Graphite gently nodded.

“It seemed so strange for someone like you to just wander into a bar and end up saving my life,” Sunny smirked.

Graphite grinned and chuckled shortly, his hooves gripped Sunny’s tighter as he smiled.

“And when you were there to bring me up when I heard that holotape. I would’ve stayed trapped in the alleyway drowned in my own tears if you weren’t there to cheer me up. Then you took me to see those movies at that big, grand theatre downtown - that was quite amazing.”

“Just...” Graphite paused; finding the words, then the focus, to utter those words to Sunny, “Just trying my best to make you feel like normal: happy, bright, and always charismatic and amusing.”

“You’ve caught me when I fell, you’ve found me the dress of my dreams... you’re always there for me, Graphite.”

She looked up from the criss-crossed hooves holding each other dearly. Graphite looked up with her, catching her eyes once more as she looked at him.

“It’s because I love you, Sunny,” Graphite divulged with his heart almost missing a beat at the sound of him saying ‘I love you.’

Sunny’s eyes widened, her heart stopping, and her cheeks turning from yellow to red in a hurry. Her huge pupils were shining with the reflections of all the lights in the room. Graphite was just waiting, waiting for some notion to show that Sunny hadn’t suddenly petrified. They’re eyes were caught on each other, not even a blink to rest their gaze.

Sunny’s heart began to beat again, a faint smile slapping her face. She leaned into Graphite, planted her lips right on his. He was staggered at the sudden passion play, still dazed in the intensity. His body eased where his mind couldn’t, his hooves making a lighter stand on the floor. His hoof was traveling up to Sunny’s head, resting it on the side of her head, tangled in her soft mane. His eyes closed as his mind settled on the tender kiss. He moved in closer to her, pressing his lips deeper into Sunny’s and letting the embrace flow between their lips.

After a long and very warm caress, Sunny pulled away, smiling at Graphite with her eyes relaxed and full of affection. Graphite nearly had to catch his breath, but he was relieved now that he had finally told Sunny of his feelings and found that hers are very much alike.

Graphite knew Sunny could make any pony smile, but he never knew she could make them giddy as a filly. He was stuck with a smile, a smile that warmed his heart even if it was frozen on his face. It was like doves had escaped in his stomach and were flying about in his body and tickling at his heart.

Sunny got up from her side of the counter and held Graphite by her hoof. She walked around to the other side and lied down, gently pulling Graphite together with her. Graphite came down with Sunny, both of them landing on the mattress behind the counter. Sunny pressed herself against him, hugging him tight as Graphite just held her arms tighter around him. Sunny and Graphite lied together on the mattress, keeping each other warm with their gentle clutch.

The night went along with the two cradling each other for a long while until Sunny interrupted the soft fondling when she slid her snout right over Graphite’s ear and whispered to him in a lustful voice, “Perhaps you would like to... ‘enjoy this night to the fullest’?”

Graphite tilted his head back just enough to see Sunny in the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat then whispered, “What do you mean, Sunny?”

Sunny looked at Graphite with her eyes just open enough so her wide pupils could stare into Graphite’s. Her smile was a mischievous grin, something you’d expect with an evil cackle. She stroked Graphite’s neck with the back of her hoof, making a humming noise that almost sounding like purring. Graphite knew then what she meant by ‘enjoying the night to the fullest.’

His cheeks turned a vivid red - any brighter and the whole room would have been lit with a rosy red glow. He turned over to face Sunny, laying his hoof on her shoulder lightly. Sunny pulled herself close, pressing her chest against his. Graphite tried to pull back, but his body was too snug along the edge of the mattress and the small divots that made up the padded design. He was reluctant to start anything; he had already managed through his first kiss, now Sunny was offering him even more.

Sunny began slowly stroking his mane with her free hoof, “Is that alright with you?” She asked, a noticeable amount of allure still in her voice.

Graphite was lost for words or any other noise, Sunny’s lips beading down towards his made those lack of words even harder to speak out. Sunny slid her hoof the hairs of Graphite’s mane one last time before her hoof slipped around his neck and down to his tie, where she tugged at it and pulled Graphite into another kiss. Graphite’s eyes were wide with more surprise, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the love in this kiss. His tie slowly came undone in Sunny’s hoof, soon she pulled the tie off the collar and tossed it somewhere over the counter top. She moved up his shoulders to slide off his blue blazer. Graphite didn’t notice, but his arms had moved down to let the blazer slide from his arms. An almost completely unconscious move that he was both happy to make and worried had happened.

Sunny moved her hooves down his chest to his buttons on the button-up shirt. She popped out one by one until the shirt came open; his bare chest now being caressed by Sunny’s hooves with his turquoise necklace exposed and hanging loosely from his neck. Graphite was starting to sweat from nervousness, knowing his growing ever closer to that moment - that moment when they would start. Graphite was still stuck in a kiss with Sunny, her lips locked in a hot embrace. She worked her hooves around his chest until she managed to get his necklace away from his neck. The feeling was soon lost when she pulled back, leaning up and sitting straight. She slowly removed her dress after undoing the belt strap and pulling over her head with her hooves. Graphite caught himself helping this event along again when he used his magic to help pull that dress off of Sunny’s body faster and helping her head out of the v-neck. He wasn’t sure what to do now, he was expected all his moves to be controlled by Sunny at this point forward.

She came back down over him, holding his sides as she pressed her lips back against his. Graphite let her lips lock, letting that warm and exciting feeling come back to him. He was beginning to enjoy it - enjoy it a lot. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling take over his motions like in his first kiss. The feelings soon came over his arms which came up to Sunny’s head and gripped the back of it tight, pulling her snout in more to intensify the kiss even further.

He could feel something hot lower down his body. He couldn’t move his head away from the kiss to look, but there was a warm and soft something rubbing along some part of his body. Sunny pulled off his lips again to whisper to him again, “I know this is your first time, but I’ve been with stallions before. Perhaps you would like me to show you a few things?”

Graphite was bewildered; Sunny had only spoke of being with Sierra, who was a mare. Now she’s talking of having been with stallions too. How many ponies had Sunny been with in her time, and were they all either gender? Graphite had too many questions to answer the one he was just asked. He nodded his head, the simplest answer to a question just being yes. Her eyes followed his body down, bring Graphite’s eyes with it. They both looked down his body, where his erected stallionhood was standing tall near his thighs.

Sunny’s hips were rearing against his stallionhood’s shaft, the furs of her thigh brushing along it. Graphite bit his bottom lip, looking back at Sunny who was looking at him with those half opened eyes she’s been flaunting Graphite with all night. His head feel back, his view towards the ceiling as Sunny started to shift around along Graphite’s chest. Soon her arms were being used like nails to drive his arms against the mattress and keep them steady. His head bobbed up, now in view of Sunny’s body raised over his. Her flank was hanging right over Graphite’s aroused penis, swaying right above it like she was teasing it.

“Just hold still...” Sunny sighed with fervor.

Her body slowly drooped down; with her chest first, then her rear end. A damp pressure came down over Graphite’s long shaft. It was tight, almost soaked with a slick juice that was flowing down Graphite’s rod. There was a feeling inside Graphite’s body that just felt like a fire was warming his senses. His eyes winced as the tight squeeze of Sunny’s marehood continued down his thick staff.

He could just see Sunny in his squint, her eyes were closed and she was letting a soft moan escape her lips as she went down. His head hit the mat again, a heated breath of air came from his mouth while his hooves gripped the edges of the mattress. His eyes were completely shut together as the soft furs or her flank hit his groin. Soon the damp pressure of her began to ride up his shaft, and the warm feelings just flowed back in him.

Her motions were repeated again and again, the slow bobbing of her flank gradually growing in speed. She was now bouncing against Graphite’s groin, the wet walls of her genitalia stroking up and down his strip. Graphite was panting from the ecstatic pounding along his throbbing hard pole, Sunny sharing in the sounds with her constant moaning and grunting.

Graphite could feel a build up of his pleasure starting to broil inside him. His panting was turning into soft groans of ecstasy as Sunny pushed on with the never ending sliding up and down his cane. He started to moan again and again until finally the build of excitement was released in a broad flow of his love. Sunny screamed, probably in both the same amount of shock and pleasure. She slid all the way off of Graphite’s now viscous stallionhood and drooped down with a bit of a daze next to Graphite.

Sunny wrapped one hoof around Graphite’s chest, and rested her head on his arm. She was still for a while, a bit of content beaming from her smile. Slowly, the smile dimmed, her eyes opening as her grin turned to a frown. She looked to Graphite, who was recovering from the moment, “I- I’m sorry...”

Graphite turned his head to the mare on his arm, “For...?”

It took her time to respond, but she finally answered back with a short sigh, “I just, haven’t been with anyone in a long time...”

Graphite reached his hoof over her, holding the mare’s head as she lay on his chest, “I... I think I can understand.”

Sunny pressed her face deeper into Graphite’s chest, holding him tighter with her hooves, “It’s just- I can’t help myself... this hasn’t be my first time with a pony - not even my first stallion...”

Graphite’s eyes widened just a bit, his exhaustion preventing them from getting any bigger, “But weren’t you with Sierra most of your life?”

“I was,” Sunny pulled away from Graphite’s chest, “But occasionally, Sierra and I would go to the bar. After a few drinks we would... we would, uh- invite some of the visitors to come home and sleep... with her and I - some of them stallions.”

“Oh,” Graphite muttered, receiving his answer but not expecting it.

There was another short silence, Sunny’s pitiful frown starting to leave her snout. She spoke up again, “We were easily excitable, if you know what I mean,” Sunny chortled a quick laugh. She looked back to Graphite’s eyes, his stare glued somewhere above, “How did you manage it in war? You were miles away from any mares and-”

“You didn’t. Even if there were some mares they were there to fight for their lives and those of your friends - just like you were. Of course when soldiers got a leave to the ‘civilized lands’ they were horny as hell. The officers tried to keep them in shape, but that didn’t matter that some of them didn’t manage to find some pony for the night.”

“And what about you?”

“I never had the time to look for a mare. First there was high-school in which I had to keep up my grades if I wanted to make it into a proper jewelry school. When that failed, I had to work in the grocery store to help and feed my family. Then came ‘Camp Sequoia’ where we were drilled from dawn ‘til dusk and we never got to see anyone accept our drill sergeant. After that was war and then...” Graphite sighed, “While everyone else got a leave home, I got sent to special operations training. After that there was just more war and... I don’t remember. I did get frozen at some point afterwords.”

“Life has been rough for you too,” Sunny sighed as she started to play with Graphite’s mane.

“Yeah, but there are the lighter moments,” He beamed and pulled Sunny closer, “Like this one.”

Sunny didn’t respond, she just giggled and hugged Graphite tighter. Yet another moment went on where they simply kept silent, holding themselves in each others embrace, until Sunny disrupted it again.

“Maybe you’d like another go?”

“What? You mean now?” Graphite wondered with hysteria.

“The night is young and so are we. Let’s not waste the opportunity.”

Graphite was troubled, he needed another while until he could do anything like that again. His heart was pounding at his chest, preparing Graphite for what was about to come. His body was telling him to go, so he followed his gut and maybe even his instincts.

They were as close as two ponies could be, getting closer every moment. They made love through that night, until their bodies finally gave way to the over bearing work. Sunny dropped on the mattress next to Graphite, breathing heavy as she rested down on the bed. Graphite let her lay down while he picked himself from the floor.

He used the walls and any clothing racks to guide him along his way, walking slow from the pains in his lower body. He made his way to the front of the store and near the door, where he leaned himself on the door frame and stared out into the wasteland.

The street lamps were shining across the damp roads. Some of the lights were flickering, others simply refusing to turn on. It looked as if the city had experienced the results of their love making. There were puddles from the rains from the evening; they were clear, normal rain water that almost cleaned the city of its dust and fires. There was a smell of rain Graphite liked. He had forgotten why he came up to the doorway in the first place. Perhaps it was to take a smoke, and his own habit had taken control of his movements.

He was standing, waiting to take the cigarettes out. He realized he didn’t have any on him -- cigarettes or clothes. Graphite looked about at the back room, groaning he noted the walk to get there. Usually, he would already be halfway there by now, taking any risk to get his smoke, but he had no feeling to do so. He flared his nostrils, a bit distraught when he didn’t get his cigarettes, but also relieved. This was the first time he didn’t have the urge to smoke, perhaps the better feeling he received from smoking was fulfilled after his tiring moment earlier.

Graphite started to feel cold so, he soon stepped back into the boutique and closed the door. He pressed against the wall and stood there, looking at the mare laying on the mattress. She looked so delicate, also a little broken because of their moment. He was still baffled at her. Somehow, this one pony had changed his outlook on life. She singlehoofedly gave him a reason to continue life in this awful world he had awoken to. There was no one he knew any better than her, no one him better than her, and now it seems they are the perfect pair. If he needed any reason to push through tough obstacles, his only reason would be to see Sunny again.

He slid down the wall slowly and came back down on the mattress, Sunny instantly wrapping her hoof around him once more. He wiggled himself in closer to Sunny, getting warm as he began to rest.

Chapter 23: All Over Again

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Graphite was fast asleep with his head in stuffed into the mattress. Sunny was awake and was already bounding for some breakfast. She had grabbed her leather jacket from the middle of the room and zipped it up nice and tight. Her bag was waiting for her near the middle of the room as well, her things didn’t seem fairly organized. She plopped the bag on the counter and reached inside, pulling out a few of the odd crunchy fruit she bought back at the market. Sunny set them out on the counter, just before a short breeze blew in through the open door at the front. She looked out from her spot, staring out the door before realized where the time had gone when she could see the sun rising outside.

Sunny peered over the counter to where Graphite was still sleeping. She stepped around and grabbed his shoulder, shaking it lightly while calling his name just loud enough to be heard.

“Graphite? Graphite, wake up,” Sunny beckoned while she nudged Graphite.

Graphite turned around and slowly opened his eyes, “ Oh, good morning, Sunny.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” She kissed him on the cheek, making Graphite instantly remember all of yesterday’s events. He noticed that she was already dressed while he was still naked in bed. “Why are you already dressed?”

“Oh, we’re not too far from my home!” Sunny beamed.

“So you’re saying that the trip is almost over?”

“Ahuh. That’s why I got dressed and prepared the breakfast already,” She said in a cheery tone. “I can’t wait to see my brothers and sisters!”

“Alright, lets get to it then,” Graphite got up from the bed in a sitting-like position. He noticed a few of the crunchy fruit standing on the counter. They looked just like the ones that Deacon offered him that one day. He gave the strange fruit a disappointed look.

“I know this is not much, but don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you when we get to my home. I know some wonderful recipes!”

“No Sunny, it’s not that. You see, I’m a bit uncomfortable about eating stuff that has grown out here. I prefer the canned stuff - even if it does taste like cardboard.”

“Don’t worry Graphite. I’ve been eating stuff like this all my life and there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Graphite sighed, “But what if I’m allergic or-”

“-Graphite,” Sunny continued to pressure, “It’s fine - just like a normal apple!”

He grunted, “If I eat this, will you stop bothering me?”

“Perhaps,” She giggled back.

Sunny went silent, just smiling as sat down next to Graphite. Graphite turned and stared at the odd looking fruit for a moment before he finally took a bite out of it. It tasted just like any other juicy apple, even being a shade of that yellow apple cores should be on the inside. He chowed down into knowing how well it tasted, Sunny stayed by watching him eat.

Sunny knew she should probably eat with him, but she was enjoying the company of Graphite all too much. She nuzzled her cheek along his arm, getting comfortable next to him while she looked at his body. There were scrapes and scars under his fur, but dust or dirt had covered those nicely. She looked back up at the fruits sitting on the counter - just out of reach - and licked her lips. Graphite just caught sight of Sunny lapping at her chops, so he grabbed the other apple from the counter using his levitation to bring the apple right to her hooves.

She grasped the apple and smiled at Graphite as a sort of ‘thank you.’ Graphite simply smiled back, taking a pause to look at Sunny. He couldn’t help be astonished by her beauty; her soft orange mane that came down short, her big tangerine eyes that twinkled in the fluttering lights, her smile that was always so bright and happy. He was always amazed at the things that made Sunny pretty, but he never would think about those things for any longer than a moment when he realized that he might have feelings for Sunny. He used to deny the possibility of any feelings towards Sunny, but now that they shared the same feelings for each other, he didn’t need to worry about those thoughts - he could think about how great she looked with no dereliction.

Graphite finished off his blue apple and had tossed the remaining core away. He wiped some of the apple juice on his hoof against the side of his gray coat. When he looked to where he had wiped, he had noticed he was still naked and needed to get dressed before they could go anywhere. He grabbed the counter and pulled himself up to where he could stand, then made his way straight for the back room where his gear was still waiting.

Graphite stepped through the door, dawning his armour and his bag before he came back out to an awaiting Sunny. She had finished her breakfast and was standing with her saddlebag on facing Graphite with her smile that wouldn’t go away.

“Ready to go?” Sunny asked.

“Yep,” Graphite replied and adjusted the rifle on his shoulder.

They both headed out into the wasteland again. The only sound which was there, was the sound of wind blowing through the abandoned ruins and the sounds of their hooves clopping against the hard pavement. Graphite had imagined a mild droning of ponies talking back and forth and carts being pulled up and down the streets when he got to the downtown portion of Buckago, but he was almost disappointed to find the entire city dead silent.

Graphite tried to spark up a conversation in the quietness, turning to the only recipient to start it with, “How far does your family live?”

“Oh, just a couple of blocks southeast of here.”

“Isn’t your family afraid of living in a place like this by themselves?”

“We’re a big family, Graphite, and we’re not living there alone. There are other families living there too. We live in a settlement. It may not be as big as Rossmore, but still we have stores, a clinic, and all other sorts of stuff.”

“Can you tell me about your settlement?”

Sunny giggled, “Well, it’s cal-”

The mare was stopped in half sentence when a loud noise hit the air like a cannonball, bouncing against the walls of every building down the street. Graphite stopped on point, turning straight to Sunny when he heard the bang of a gun fire through the barren streets. She was thrown to the floor by a force stronger than either of the duo, hitting the rough street as a red dye stained through her jacket. She reached to her chest, gripping it tightly while she gasped and coughed for air.

Graphite’s focus went from the sound to Sunny in an instant, his heart stopping as he thought Sunny’s had too. He reached down, grasping hold of Sunny’s jacket as he tried to grab hold of her bod to drag her away from the open.

He grunted and groaned, sliding her body against the battered pavement and into the sidewalk. Another shot flew into the street, dodging passed Graphite by just a hair. Graphite jumped back, quickly springing back to his hooves and grabbing Sunny once more. He stopped when they reached the corner of an alleyway, Sunny’s blood had trailed from the streets to where she was sitting leaned against a building.

Graphite was in a frenzy, trying to keep his head as he watched the blood drip through the hole in Sunny’s jacket. He pressed his hooves to the wound to stop the flow, panicking for a some bandages, some potions, or anything that could help. His mind finally came to a memory in his panic - the pack of first aid syringes still tucked in his duster. Sunny was starting to hack up blood, grabbing for Graphite’s hooves against her crimson tarnished chest.

Graphite was muttering things to his love; “You’ll be okay!” or “Don’t leave me, okay?!” He finally found the first aid kit in his duster as he continued to spite words of encouragement to the faining Sunny, fumbling with the small syringe in his telekinesis spell. He pulled the cap off the one he had out and then tore Sunny’s jacket open to reach the wounded spot. The blood was still spewing; Graphite was almost paused in awe, but he snapped back into it when Sunny coughed up another mouthful of blood.

He brought the needle back just before he jabbed it her chest, letting the magical potions in the vile course through her body to regenerate the bullet wound. She choked on her blood one last time before the hole in her chest began to close. The blood stopped pouring out and the tissues reattached themselves as the healing agents in the syringe spread about Sunny’s body.

Graphite dropped the empty needle, taking notice in his first aid kit that he had one last needle in his case. He closed the cap and slid it into his duster one again, letting Sunny have her time to heal. Graphite moved out from the old alleyway, taking cover behind a small debris pile on the sidewalk as he brought his rifle out.

Graphite wedged his rifle in the rubble, bringing his view down the scope of his gun and over to the surrounding hotels, apartments, stores, and other assorted buildings. He scanned the windows and the lower doors, he went back and forth through all the openings and all the open space on the roofs, but no pony was in sight - not even through his scope.

Another bullet hit the ground near Graphite, ricocheting and bouncing off somewhere close-by his stack of debris. He recoiled against the building, hugging it close while he waited for what might be another shot to ring out from the rifle’s barrel. After a time of sitting in the dust, he rolled back over and scoped into his rifle. A few light shots fired into the air, something like a sub-machine gun firing. Graphite ducked his head, but no bullets came near his position, just the sounds of small arms shooting off rounds somewhere in the distance.

Graphite heard a loud bang, this one from a large calibre rifle. He heard the bullet slice the wind and then, suddenly, slice his shoulder. The bullet hit him like a punch from a strong stallion, making him fall back from his pile of rubble. He fell back on the ground with a cringe with the gunshot ringing around in his ears.

Graphite shook his head, wiping off some mud that had gotten in his eye after laying his head on his dirty sleeves. His foxhole was sitting in the flank of Hill 187, just off the hill’s crest and somewhere deeper into the remaining woods. There was still light vegetation, but some trees could be seen nearing the ends of the island that were in the direction away from the hill. Graphite’s foxhole was lined with a few more foxholes along the perimeter, facing the thin woods.

The sun was heading down into the hillside, the rays shining over the ridge and into the woods. It was a light orange, just the tip of the evening, so there was still a bit of blue in the sky to dilute the orange sunset. Graphite’s foxhole wasn’t as muddy as the hill, but there was still dry mud that stuck to clothes and didn’t want to come off.

Graphite had a dry package of rations sitting in his lap with a cigarette lit and burning, held midair by his magic. His dinner rations consisted of freeze-dried hay out of a small tin can and a single apple bar that came in the bag as well. The cigarette was there because it had to be, seeing as it was just that time of the day to start smoking. He was chewing his food, resting easy in his foxhole as he looked over the woods he knew were teaming with zebras waiting to brawl.

“Bonsoir, Graphite,” a voice behind him called in an accent.

The voice sounded like that of Commandant Cognac, coming down the hill with his uniform stained and wrinkled as he climbed down the ridge. It appeared to have some sort of camouflage pattern all over it. Around the uniform was an elastic harness, something to strap his ammunition unto. Graphite turned his head with a bite of hay in his mouth; it was so, Cognac was sliding down the hill and was coming towards Graphite. He jumped into his foxhole, kicking up a bit of the dried mud and making Graphite drop his cigarette in the bottom of his pit, “Mind if I join you, Corporal?” He asked with a raised brow.

“No, sir,” Graphite responded, taking the question also as an order.

“Merci, Graphite,” The Commandant replied back, fixing the way he sat in the hole before continuing, “Yes- well, I am here to check on the defences and the soldiers. The intelligence reports show that zebra activity has increased over the past couple of days - they are preparing for something big. One of our guesses is they are preparing an attack on this hill here,” Cognac informed, using his hoof to point over to the hillside.

“Do you want for me to go and find out what they’re going to do?” Graphite asked as he tossed away his fizzled cigarette.

“Non, non, you are more useful staying here defending the hill, and I wanted for you and the other soldiers to prepare to defend yourselves.”

“Understood, Commandant.”

“Also, this conversation is just between you and me - you can call me Cognac,” He mentioned with a smile.

“Um, sure... Cognac,” Graphite was a bit confused, a high commanding officer has never dropped by just to talk with him. There wasn’t ever a time to drop down for just a chat when you were an officer, Graphite would imagine they were back and forth between radio messages from HQ, filing through inventory, and counting heads before the end of the day. But, here he was, sitting in a hole with Graphite about to discuss whatever it was he wanted to discuss about.

Cognac shifted sitting positions again and moved on, “Well, this is all official business right now, but I had never got a chance to sit down and speak with another pony without all this, ‘Oh, Commandant, how many soldiers do we have left today,’ or ‘Oh, Commandant, did you resend that message to headquarters yet?’ It is a lot of stress to put on pony, if you know what I mean, Graphite,” Cognac began to chuckle a bit nervelessly, the giggle slowly turning into a sigh. He slid his green beret from his head before running his hoof over the mess of short hair on his head.

Graphite thought for what to say before he came out, “I wouldn’t know, Cognac, I’m usually down in a foxhole alone; sitting alone for hours until someone decides to take shots at me. There’s stress too, but it’s of a different kind.”

“It is not something that I usually say, but...” Cognac took a breath, “I’m tired of war, Graphite. I’ve been here for longer that I should have.”

“How long have you been in service, Cognac?”

“Before all of this stuff started - almost fifteen years.”

“Wow, I thought that me being stuck here for five years was a long time.”

Graphite and Cognac then sat in the foxhole for a few minutes in silence. Each of them was tending to their own thoughts, until Graphite broke the silence.

“How was it up there, in the north?”

“Oh, It was tough. Over there Zebras did not throw themselves at you like they do now,” Cognac grinned. “Lis and I took out dozens of zebras out there.”

“Lis?”

“Oui, it’s my rifle,” With that, he pulled over a long rifle from the shoulder strap and presented it to Graphite. It was a long rifle, two sturdy pieces of wood made up the hoof-guard and stock; the rest of the body was a cheap metal. It had a charging handle attached on the left side, odd to Graphite’s knowledge of weapons. Sitting right under the handle was the magazine, a large block of metal carrying large calibres of bullet. The last thing he saw from the gun was the age, fifteen years of piling through dirt, rocks, grass, and rubble really tore details into the gun.

Graphite turned back to Cognac, who brought his gun around his shoulder again when he noticed Graphite had stopped observing, “Well, that’s Lis,” The Commandant chortled shortly. “She is a bit older than the new weapons being given out, but I still care for her.”

“It’s a nice gun -- I’d show you mine, but I left it at the camp,” Graphite pointed to the campsite at the top of the hill with his head.

“Why are you here without a weapon?”

“My friend Spotty left me his rifle before he got shipped home,” Graphite said and picked up his friend’s ‘Black Rifle’ from the side of the foxhole where it was resting. “Since they keep coming at us in waves, I was thinking that a little bit of automatic fire would help.”

“Graphite, you are a sharpshooter. You need to have your own rifle with you at all times,” Cognac grabbed his beret and brought it about his head again. “I will let you off the hook this time, but if I catch you without your rifle again, there will be consequences.”

“Understood. Thank you, Commandant.”

“Tres bien,” Cognac smiled, stepping up as if he was about to leave the foxhole, but Graphite stopped him with a question.

“Why’d you name your rifle ‘Lis,’ Cognac?”

Cognac stopped on the edge of the foxhole, kneeling down again to meet up at a better eye level with Graphite, “Well, I suppose it is because that is the name of my wife.”

“You have a family, Commandant?”

“Oui, oui, but things been difficult ever since the war started. The wife back home never made it through childbirth - I am left to care for the filly. Right now, she is somewhere in a daycare, waiting for me to write her again...” Cognac put on his green beret again, looking up somewhere in the sky above. He looked back to land, looking to Graphite once more and asking, “Do you have a family, Graphite?”

“Yes, I have a ma’ and pa’ in Buckago.”

“When was the last time you let them know of yourself?”

“Uhh...” Graphite scratched his head, “I don’t really remember. Things have been very complicated since I went to my training and-”

“-Why don’t you write them a message when you get some free time? I bet they are worried about you,” The commandant interrupted him.

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it!” Graphite smiled and saluted.

“It is good to see some enthusiasm around here,” Cognac beamed, then suddenly his ears perked up and his view went off in the direction of the jungle, “Merde - get down!” He blared.

Suddenly, a loud screeching noise marked the air in it’s ear scraping sound. Graphite held his head and ducking down deep into his foxhole, knowing the doom that fell once the sound fell to the ground. The artillery shell hit the hillside hard, shaking the ground under Graphite’s hooves and rattling the trees around him. They hit closer and closer, blowing gravel into the air with every one of its loud explosions. The hill was pummeled with shell after shell until the a round hit nearby Graphite’s foxhole. The force blew him down, Graphite was left trembling in the bottom of his foxhole, too afraid to make a single movement in any direction. He was petrified in his hole until the artillery shells finally let up only minutes later. Graphite was still trapped in a dizzying paralysis long after the artillery had ended, keeping him huddled in his foxhole through the end of the evening and into the night.

Chapter 24: The Big Battle

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Graphite had looked up from his hooves, feeling as if he had just woken up from a slumber after sitting motionless in his foxhole for hours. He squinted his eyes as they moved from black to dark - he noticed it was nighttime. As he shifted from his fettle position, he heard a small pile of gravel tumble down his armour. He shook his head, shaking another pile of rocks out of his mane. Graphite grabbed for the edge of his foxhole to pull himself out, but instead gripped something a bit fleshy to the touch. He looked up at the entity, sliding his hoof from the mushy object. He moved in close, finding that it was Commandant Cognac, laying face-first in the dirt and limp as a rag doll. Graphite recoiled with shock, swinging his hoof vigorously when he realized he had just swiped his hoof all over his officer’s dead carcass.

Graphite was sucking in air like he had just came up from an hour underwater; his head was bobbing back and forth as he looked around the area in a panic. Graphite flinched as he heard a deep ‘thud’ from somewhere nearby. He recognized that as a mortar firing off a round; he needed to head up to the top of the hill and inspect what was happening, so he reached over to the other end of his foxhole to grab Spotty’s rifle.

The rifle stuck at him like a bed of thorns, making him shake out his other hoof after touching it. Graphite looked over to find the gun torn to shreds by the artillery blasts, the gun deformed and riddled with shrapnel and broken parts. Graphite hit the ground in his duress, now left without a weapon to search the hill and realizing he had lost his friend’s rifle - even if Spotty wasn’t going to using it again. Graphite checked his armour, finding his knife sheathed where it should be on his suit. He brought it out at the ready before his eyes followed the incline up the hill to the top, where another loud ‘thud’ had just occurred.

Graphite took in a sigh, wiping his eyes of some loose dirt before he climbed out of his foxhole and to the hill. He took a final look at Cognac, who’s body was still lying at the edge of the hole - only his front half was there. The remains of Cognac were half complete, with his rear half Celestia-knows-where. It was a hard sight to see the stallion in charge of you be cut down and left to rot by your side, but Graphite tried his best to ignore it, passing it off as just another dead soldier. It hardly helped, the thought of any soldier dying on the battlefield was gut wrenching and simply saddening. Before Graphite had time to catch up with what he was doing, he found himself at the top of the hill with his thoughts still trudging beside him.

Graphite was prone to the ground, his body laying underneath just a few stacked boxes of ammunition. He shuffled up closer to them before he peeked over the side and out over the peak of the hill. There was a mortar team sitting just a few steps from Graphite, sending in mortar shells over the passing hillside. Graphite’s first thought was ‘Why would the soldiers fire mortars away from the woods?’ His second thought came around when he noticed the mortar crew comprised of two zebras -- that thought was artlessly, ‘Murder.’

Graphite used the boxes to pick himself up swiftly and quietly before he began his noiseless trot towards the mortar team. They were unaware of anything around them, the noise of the mortar popping drowned out any hoofsteps or twig cracks. Graphite moved in with his knife raised high over his head, waiting for the moment he knew he would be close enough to guarantee his kill.

Soon one of the zebras crewing the mortar turned away. The zebra looked at the hilltop with a pair of binoculars, probably to see the effect their shells had left. The other zebra sat by the mortar, letting it cool off. The last zebra did just the same, standing up to meet up with his buddy watching the hill.

Graphite saw this as his opportunity. He brought his knife into position and snuck up behind the zebra who was sitting near the mortar. The zebra was only paying attention to the nearby hillside and didn’t hear the stallion sneaking up behind him with a knife pointed to his head.

Graphite grabbed the zebra from behind. One of his hooves was blocking the zebras mouth, denying him any chance to scream for help. The zebra tried to resist and break out of the hold, but it was already too late as Graphite’s knife went right for his neck.

After making sure that zebra was dead, Graphite slowly dropped the body down on the ground. He then proceeded to take out the zebra who was still observing the hilltop. Graphite hastily made his advance towards the observer. His black duster caught the wind, starting to ripple in the hard breeze of the hilltop. The zebra perked his ears up and turned his head, only to see a black stallion right in front of his nose.

It was too late for the observer. Graphite showed no mercy when the first hit with the combat knife didn’t kill the zebra. He turned the observer around and tried to keep the zebra’s mouth shut as he repeatedly jabbed the knife in him. The steel blade cut through the cloth uniform with ease.

After a few more stabs, Graphite finally managed to finish off the zebra and discarded the body. It fell down in the dirt, adorned in cut marks and the uniform soaked blood red.

Graphite looked down on the body, the blood trickling down the one of the many inclines in the hill. Graphite was standing over the body with his knife still tight in the grasp of his spell - he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he had killed another living being. The way he had mutilated the body with a barbaric weapon, the way the body bled after being torn to pieces, the way the murder had caught the attention of his morals. He looked at the body over the dim moonlight, spotting the zebra’s face over the drips of blood on his head. The zebra wasn’t a day older than Graphite himself. The uniform also brought about Graphite’s unwary thoughts; the cheap fabric, the poor stitching, and the discoloured patches on some spots. No real soldier would have gone into the battlefield wearing rags like this, the zebra laying dead here was only another zebra forced to join their ‘Home Guard’ and forced to gun down ponies he may actually care for.

Graphite was brought back to reality when a sudden boom came over the hillside. He had only a knife to defend himself with; his rifle was back in the camp on the hilltop - and that was right were he was going to head. There were the very recognizable sounds of gunfire going back and forth the hillside Graphite was going to be traveling to. With his knife by his side, Graphite hobbled over the pair of corpses he had created and slid down the incline to the next hill over.

The hill was infertile, trees being a rarity over the rolling hills. There were few patches of grass, the rest of the plain was gravel and craters from the mortars and artillery. Graphite was use to the debilitating landscape, his training had rigorously prepared him for an impassible terrain. There was training for climbing mountains, training for walks across countries, training for crawls through enemy territory, and even training for being shot whilst crawling through the enemy’s territory; but nothing had prepared him for the bodies he was forced to crawl through. Another carcass from a zebra and another corpse from a stallion.

Graphite continued to slowly make his way up the hill, still crawling over bits of bodies. Bodies continued to be scattered near his intended way, but there were no weapons or ammo nearby - the bodies had been stripped clean almost of everything. Were zebras really so desperate that they sent in soldiers without any sort of equipment? Equestrian soldiers were all either dead or hastily retreated. They couldn’t have been the ones to pick up all of the equipment from the dead while they were running for their lives.

Soon, Graphite noticed something out of the ordinary. A large object lied on the ground, with a large trail dug up behind it. The object seemed to big to be just a weapon; but to him, it seemed like it might be something worth checking out, seeing as most weapons were being taken up by the zebras. As he approached the object, it more and more took a shape of a pony lying on the ground.

When Graphite came up on the object, the moonbeams reflecting the small flow of blood coming from what was a body. Yet, it was no ordinary fallen trooper, but a Wonderbolt Flier. His dead body lied face down in the dirt, the puddle of his crimson flow surrounding his crater. His armour was a polished sapphire with golden designs marked all over it. The Wonderbolt’s insignia was etched to the armour’s chest-plate, the flier was sure to be proud being seen brandishing that symbol. Now, the symbol of reaching great heights was sitting in the dirt, stained with blood and riddled with bullets along with the rest of the armour. The armour was blazed in gunfire, the armour broken and dented. The armour had some parts missing, probably stuck in the ground on the next hill over. There was a gas-mask over the Wonderbolt’s snout; it was a thick, clear plastic that had a nozzle moving from the mask to some oxygen tank somewhere on the back of the suit. He wasn’t going to need that oxygen anymore, or the two machine guns Graphite noticed were attached to a steel battle-saddle.

Graphite scooted a bit closer to the body, balancing on two legs while he reached over to grab one of the guns from the saddle. He gripped the gun’s body, pulling and jerking in every direction to pull it from the saddle. It eventually came off, only after Graphite was on the verge of tripping after he had tugged it away. He looked down at the gun, holding in his magical spell.

It was a big, air-cooled machine gun, almost the size of a foal. Most of the gun looked like it was made out of sheet metal, held together by large bolts. There was no stock or even a handle, the gun was meant to be fired solely from a battle-saddle. The trigger was what was left of the part where battle-saddle and the gun connected. The dead pegasus had left Graphite with a belt full of .30 calibre rounds, all encased in a metal box magazine.

Graphite stepped around the body, taking a moment to soak in the scene of this crash. He looked at the dead flier, then the gun he used to own. On the side was scratched, ‘Dauntless’. Graphite wasn’t sure if that was the name of the dead pegasus or the name which he gave to his gun. He looked up from the gun and smirked, it was Graphite’s best way of saying ‘Thank you’ to this dead pegasus being as gracious as to give him a gun before he made it to the battlefield on the top of the hill.

Graphite finally had a weapon which can last until he reaches his own rifle. He never had much training with the automatic weapons, but he was usually sitting amongst machine gun teams and thought it shouldn’t be too complicated to operate one. He moved away from the Wonderbolt, moving on up the hill.

As Graphite neared the top of the hill and the shots became louder and louder, he noticed something ahead of him. Black silhouettes were moving in front of Graphite. In the darkness, it was hard to tell if those were zebras or friendly troops; so once again, he decided to wait and tried to figure out if they were his friends or foes.

Graphite lied down and sat his machine gun’s barrel on a small mound of dirt. He pointed the barrel at the group of silhouettes, ready to fire just in case they turned on him. The group in front was talking about something, but Graphite couldn’t understand a word what they were saying. They marched slowly, taking their orders to move as a stroll through the battlefield. They were needed somewhere fast, but they would rather be heading in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, a red flare popped from the top of the hill, illuminating the surroundings in a blinding red light. The light did a fine job of illuminating the group in front of Graphite. In the rosy light, he could tell that the troops were wearing cloth uniforms and black metal helmets and that meant only one thing - those were zebras.

As soon as that realization hit Graphite’s thoughts, he pulled the trigger and opened fire. The machine gun fired off in a hurricane force of bullets, releasing rounds so quickly that the bangs of gunfire sounded like a thick cloth being ripped in two. The rate of fire was even astounding to Graphite, almost losing control of his aim as the gun suddenly burst into a hellfire of piercing lead. The group that was once walking with their own business at mind was now torn into shreds by the machine gun. They fell to the ground after the swarm of bullets had finished spotting holes in their bodies.

Graphite finally released the trigger, the echoes of the wailing machine gun still sweeping over the hills like a silent moan of a ghost. Another group of shadows popped their heads from the low grasses of the hill ahead, looking on over the now bullet filled zebras sitting in the dirt. Graphite sat up from the dirt as the crowd ahead moved. He noticed they were Equestrian Soldiers, so he passed a wave to signal he posed no threat to them.

The lot in the grasses waved back, moving from knelt down in the rocks to standing before they trumped down the hill to meet up with Graphite. Graphite stood to his hooves too, leaving the machine gun at his hooves. They trampled over the dead zebras, taking a quick moment as they passed over to insure they were dead. The red light from the flare had just died out as they came near, but one of the ponies had brought up a flashlight in his teeth, shining it in Graphite’s eyes.

“Yep, you ain’t a zebra,” One of the soldiers divulged in a thick country accent.

Graphite blocked the bright light of the flashlight, moving his away just as he moved his arm up, “Yeah, now would you get that damn flashlight out of my face?” Graphite groaned under the light.

One of the soldiers finally brought the light away from Graphite’s eyes, pushing the soldier’s head away with his hoof and moving the light towards his hooves. That soldier came up to Graphite, the soldier’s voice was much higher, almost feminine, “Cut the chatter,” The soldier commanded.

Graphite has heard the voice of the mare before, but he couldn’t quite remember where. The light barely illuminated her face, but her features could be seen in the shadows cast across her head; it seemed to be the Executive Officer. She came a bit closer to Graphite and continued, “Now, we have zebras all over this area, so we need to keep talking to a minimum. Reinforcements from the Trottingham Regiment will arrive shortly; all we have to do is hold this ground until they arrive.”

The X-O stepped back, grabbing the flashlight from the soldier, holding it on the edge of her mouth. She flashed it towards some craters sunk into the hilltop, “We will be taking defensive positions in these craters, forming a circle around this area so we won’t be flanked,” She informed, mumbling some words since she had her gullet stuffed with the flashlight. “There’s some weapons and ammo in the centre - only to be used in emergencies since it’s a short supply.”

She didn’t even wait for a ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Quickly tossing the flashlight back to it’s owner as she huddled to the nearest crater with one soldier by her side - the others were moving to the surrounding holes, just as ordered. Graphite turned about, facing a foxhole that was just ahead of the supplies.

His eyes instantly caught sight of a weapon sitting on one of the crates. It was a wooden rifle, slightly beat from extended use in plenty of firefights. Graphite was happy to see this old, beat-up rifle -- it was his own gun after all. He adjusted his giant machine gun he was lugging around then moved straight over to the crates to obtain his rifle once more. He grabbed it with his levitation spell, slinging it over his shoulder as he moved to the crater ahead. Graphite plopped the machine gun against the edge of the small crater, holding it steady as the barrel faced the rolling plains ahead.

The moon was just overhead, it was most likely just the beginnings of midnight when Graphite had jumped into the grim crater with only a small pack of soldiers left to hold out the zebra army with him. He sat in his crater alone in the quiet night. Sounds of gunfire were spread through the silence of the hill, but a single word was spoken by anyone in the vicinity. A few dry coughs disturbed the rest, but it quickly went quiet afterwards.

The roar of gunfire slowly ceased to exist, the gunfire moving from endless bangs to short spurts of fire. It was almost impossible to deviate zebras’ gunfire from ponies’, so there was no telling if we were slowly winning or slowly losing. Graphite turned his head from the plains, turning back to check on the other soldiers forced to be here. They were focused, following orders to guard this ground like robots. Their eyes were fixed on the empty hills and the silent patches of grass that were wading in the breeze, guns set forward awaiting the blades of grass to bend in any direction they shouldn’t.

Graphite turned back to the hill, resting his hoof on the machine gun he had in placed in the bed of the crater. Just as he turned to the quiet plains, a figure had appeared and was making its way to him. The figure was soon joined by another similar shade, followed by another, and another. The first cast was now swarmed by a mass of silhouettes that were bobbing and bouncing as they moved up the plains. Graphite inched over to the machine gun, aiming it at the blob of shadows coming this way. He was standing by, hoping the figures would show any sign of friendly alliance.

The nighttime clouds had moved, unblocking the shine of the moon. The dim blue light of the moon cast over the crowd of unknown figures, showing their true colours of black and white. Graphite had hoped for the reinforcements; instead, fate had turned on him and sent in the rest of the zebra army on the island. He grabbed the gun tight before screaming to the soldiers around him, “Zebras!”

The X-O projected her voice at Graphite, “Open fire!” She shouted as orders.

Graphite wasted no time, squeezing the trigger on the machine gun and letting the gun do its job of mowing down the bodies trailing towards their position. The gun blared in a loud symphony of deafening shots that sounded just as one annoying bellow of noise. The battalion of zebras were chopped down like trees; Graphite’s machine gun acting as the chainsaw. They dropped without direction, dropping on each other or simply the ground beneath them.

As soon as the live ones had caught up with their reactions, they dropped to the ground, avoiding the line of fire. Graphite kept his trigger pulled and the gun swept over the enemy, leaving no mercy to the zebras unable to react or too slow to fall. The gun let out its barrage of lead until it went click; at which point, Graphite grabbed for his old rifle and continued to take out the incoming force of zebras.

The soldiers around Graphite had turned their attention to Graphite’s crowd, taking in whatever shots they could manage over the machine gun’s killing spree. Suddenly, a roar came over the hills - a battle cry. Heads sitting in the craters turned to the noise, watching in shock as they saw another aggregation of mad zebras coming over the next hillside.

Graphite had let that group almost completely without his attention, his focus on the same group he had been shooting at earlier. The soldiers closest to the second wave of enemies had turned to face them, firing off their guns as the bodies piled in and the numbers began to grow.

Graphite had his view down his scope; it was nearing redundancy when the sight was filled with ten or more zebras running up to be shot down. Graphite was working with habit, taking an unwanted amount of time to pick out the perfect shot to kill a zebra. His shots were easy to take, the mass number of the zebras coming up made firing a round like a cannonball through a riot.

The hilltop was aglow with the flashes of gunfire, the ring of fire surrounded by a mass of gun flashes across the hilltop. The bright glints were escorted by litters of speeding bullets that zoomed across the flat plains and stopped when they hit the dirt or the soft bodies of zebras. The zebras were dropping like flies, but they swarmed just as much. The rounds flew over head, the soldiers forced to hunker down as deep as they can into their shallow craters. They were safe from the high flying bullets, but not from what was now being thrown at them.

A small, rectangular object came dropping in to the craters left of Graphite, clanking against the gravel and ejected shells lying in the hole. The soldiers inside the crater spotted the black box and instantly scattered to rush out of the crater. The grenade coming from the zebras was sitting quietly in the hole like a calm before a storm - the soldiers had swiftly jumped their hole and panicked to run to another position and hide. The grenade went off, blowing a small cloud of smoke through the crater and sifting dirt into the air. A fragment whizzed by Graphite’s ear, just barely missing. The rest of the debris flew out, one group of shrapnel finding its way to one of the soldiers trying to avoid that very grenade.

Another thud hit the dirt, another grenade landing into a crater. This grenade landed in the X-O’s crater, her companion being as unlucky as to have the grenade land right on top of him. The Officer hopped out of the hole as quick as she could, rolling out into the next crater over as soon as she spotted the grenade. The soldier was confused, watching as the officer left him alone. He looked over his shoulder, looking at what felt like a rock landed on him. He spotted the grenade, instantly yelping and tumbling over as the grenade came into sight. It was too late to react, the grenade exploding and tearing a chunk of flesh from the stallion’s body.

Blood misted into the air, Graphite shrieked before flinching as the boom was joined with a spray of blood against the back of his neck. He flinched and jerked his rifle from its aim, firing off a round into the sky. Just as his bullet flew into the air, a shot pounded against the edge of Graphite’s crater, tossing some gravel into his eye. He wiped his eyes cleaned then looked over the hill to his right - finding that another band of zebras started to sprint over the plain. Graphite turned his body over to the next wave of soldiers, firing off rounds randomly over to the batch of angry zebras.

They fell as the volley of rounds flew into the littered mob that was getting ever closer to Graphite and the rest of the soldiers. Graphite shot off until his gun ran dry, leaving him to reload his gun and leaving him open to fire. The fire came sooner than he had hoped, a splash of bullets pelting against the ground near his position - one passing over the plates on his shoulder. Graphite jumped back, hitting his back against the other side of his crater. Bullets continued to hit the ground near him, tossing dirt into his face, until the gun eventually ran clean of rounds.

Graphite finished reloading his rifle, cocking the bolt handle and taking this moment to return fire. He aimed down his scope, zooming out as much as it allowed to find the nearest zebra. He spotted one, reloading a ‘Black Rifle’ he obviously picked up from one of the dead marines. He guessed this was the one taking his time to fire his entire magazine at Graphite, so crosshairs meet at the zebra’s skull and he fired - watching as he fell with not even a twitch to meet afterward.

Graphite was firing off round after round to the wave of enemies, until a dying scream came from the circle of soldiers by Graphite. One soldier hit the supply crates, shot down while gathering up a few more bullets for his gun. The number of friendly soldiers was depleting as the number of unfriendly soldiers continued growing exponentially. Graphite looked over the now barren craters, seeing only the X-O still fighting the zebras off with only a silver revolver to combat the enemies.

The Zebra Army still hadn’t ceased to stop rolling in soldiers - every last direction filled with enemies firing off their rifles and pistols. The endless whizzing of bullets flying just above their heads, the nonstop sounds of guns banging and clicking, the never ending screams and wails. Graphite stopped wasting time he didn’t have aiming down the scope to fire, firing off a round anywhere would hit one of the dozens of zebras surrounding the area.

The waves were flooding the hilltop, Graphite was surely dead if he was left alone. He looked back, spotting the X-O still shooting off lead at the zebras. He waited for a moment to dash to her crater, killing off zebras until he had an open moment to run. The box of ammo was sitting idly in the middle of the ring of craters; Graphite would run right passed it as he made his way to the Officer.

He knew that he had to act fast, but the gunfire was preventing him from any movement. He wanted to just grab the ammunition from the cache with his magic, but stress was bearing down on his will, the only way to grab anything other than his gun was to run over and grab it himself. Graphite sighed, taking a moment away from his planning to shoot back at the army around him. Graphite looked back towards the cache, gripping his gun tight as he waited for his moment. The bullets never stopped, even another grenade being tossed into one of the empty craters. Graphite looked over, the X-O being slowly overpowered by the zebras. Graphite shot down one more zebra then focused to the cache.

He jumped out of his hole, sprinting faster than even he knew he could run, making it to the supplies and nabbing the gun from the dead soldier and all the magazines he could grab. He bit down on the magazine he was holding in his mouth then made another mad sprint to the Officer. He dived into the crater, dodging over all the gunfire before hitting the bottom of the pit.

Graphite nudged the Officer’s side, tossing the Black Rifle to her while dropping the loose magazines wherever they fell in the crater. The X-O took the rifle, loading in the first magazine she could reach. Not a single word was passed, Graphite and the Officer just exchanged weapons then they were back to back fighting off the zebras still progressing up the hilltop. The volley of bullets was quickly returned as the other team fired back with a shower of lead - bullets spraying so wildly they could almost hit each other midair.

The flash of the rifles and pistols was like a second sun, lighting up the night and illuminated the hill. In a flash, and another zebra was down; another flash, and another zebra; the yellow blur as deadly as poison. The army was getting closer and closer every second that went by, soon coming they were close enough for their faces to appear over the blaze of shots. Graphite could see their faces all to well, the agony of the pain as the bullets flew into their bodies. Their blood poured out, the lights glistening off their fluid surface. He watched as the dim silhouettes fell into the thick dirt. He watched as a life was taken by his own will, treated as just another statistic.

Graphite had cleared another row of zebras, moving down the line to the next company of aggressors. His gun was wavering back and forth, keeping back the perimeter of zebras that continued to converge down to the pair’s crater. The X-O had gone through her magazines quickly, the pile of spare ammunition eaten through by the automatic rifle. A sudden influx of zebras piled through the surrounding crowd, guns ablaze and charging strong. Graphite ducked down as he spotted the small bunch of attackers begin to stampede down the hill - the Executive Officer to late to react. She turned about to fire back before being swiftly shot down, a salvo of lead hitting her body with a buck strength force.

She let out a gurgle and coughed up blood, her misery ended when a rouge bullet hit her skull. Graphite was now left to fight alone with the waves of zebras still fighting with every last bit of their strength. Graphite spun around, facing the direction the X-O was facing - moving her body aside as he took in another position in the crater.

His attention was towards the charging clot of zebras, using another collection of rounds to take them down and give the Officer the short moment of revenge she deserved. Graphite took up the Black Rifle from the X-O’s body, using whatever rounds were still left to give him a better advantage. He swept the rifle back and forth in a circle, firing the last shots in the gun in single shots; sparing his ammo as long as possible. A few zebras were hit by the spindrift of bullets, nothing close to end the battle.

Graphite tossed the gun away, grabbing his rifle once more to take out another number of the zebras. They yells of their incessant shouting grew louder, their voices all being directed at Graphite. The bangs and blares were striking Graphite’s ears, every sound all pounding in his ear drums at once. It all become a long drone, a single loud buzz in his head. Graphite dove deeper into his hole, holding his gun close as the sounds continued pulsating in his head. Graphite wanted to fire back, but the noises beat him back down before he could. The unending roar was interrupted by a single howl came up from behind. Graphite looked up, gun close, his vision rattled by the sounds shaking his head. A blur was growing towards him, slowly yelling as it seemed to get closer. Graphite’s hoof came up, the overshadowing of the figure was straining on his eyes. The shout came closer, coming into view. A zebra jumped over the edge of the crater, a rifle held back with the stock aimed at Graphite. Graphite’s hoof came over his head and the butt of the gun hit him, knocking him into a unwavering daze and a blinding quiver.

Chapter 25: Help Me

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Graphite found himself lying on face-first on a wooden floor, his cheek sore as he had fallen unto it. The other side of his head was facing upward, with a light shining right into Graphite’s eyes. He rolled over, his back to the hard floor and his hooves scrunched up towards his chest and his eyes closed to ward off the light.

“Graphite?” A voice called, causing Graphite to open his eyes and look towards the noise.

He winced, his eyes just barely open enough to see a black dog standing by him with his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging about.

“Graphite!” The voice exclaimed again.

Graphite groaned, the only sound he managed to make out of his mouth. A figure, shaped as a pony, ran over the hard wood floors and passed the dog; it came over Graphite, its arms wrapping around him tight. He imagined the figure whisking him off just as it got its arms around him, but instead it brought its head around and kissed him on the cheek. Graphite could figure it out from that warm kiss that the figure was Sunny. He brought his arms up to hug her back, but a sudden pain plunged into his left shoulder. Graphite looked over at his shoulder and saw a bandage wrapped over it. The bandage ran down and around his chest.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” Sunny smiled and nuzzled Graphite.

“W-what happened?”

“You got wounded and knocked out by that sniper back in the streets,” Sunny said as a tear ran down her cheek, “You didn’t wake for a couple of days. I though that I wouldn’t see you again!” She squeezed Graphite tighter, almost squeezing his wounded shoulder.

“Oh... Where am I? How did I get here?” Graphite shifted his eyes up and down the one wall he could see.

“You’re at my apartment. A few ponies from my family were nearby and they helped us back,” Sunny was still beaming. “I’m so glad that you’re awake again, Graphite!”

Graphite slowly tried to get up, but he was still dizzy after spending a couple of days out cold. Sunny knew this and helped him up, not letting him slip out of her grasp or fall over from his own weakness.

“You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days now; try to be careful,” Sunny informed while she supported the big stallion.

“Maybe I just need something to eat?” Graphite suggested while holding his stomach.

“Yeah, I guess that could help,” Sunny smiled and wrapped her hoof around him. “Come on, I’ll help you to the kitchen.”

Graphite and Sunny slowly trumped out of the bedroom area, Graphite could see the rest of the apartment after being picked up from the floor. The apartment was very traditional, with most of the furniture very antique looking. Graphite looked back from where he was laying on the floor, spotting the bed he fell out of. The bed was wide enough for two ponies, two pillows provided for just that reason. The bed had a single sheet on it, a white sheet just as white as the mattress itself. On both sides of the bed were two nightstands, one with a lamp while the other was left empty. Beside one of the nightstands was a wooden wardrobe, carved with simple designs that didn’t do much to compliment it.

In the corner, to the right of the bed, was a coffee table with two low chairs sitting by. The chairs were made up of an ancient fabric, the floral designs that lined it were faded and the fabric itself torn in some spots. The coffee table was just as old, the aging dark wood kept polished by Sunny, but still scratched along the surface. Following the wall after the small sitting area was a narrow table that was placed up against the wall. Sitting on it were a few picture frames - the pictures obscured by glare - and an old radio. It seemed a bit dusty, unused for quite a while. It was sitting in the dark corner of the table, left alone to gather dust when Sunny went out with Graphite.

Sunny carried Graphite passed through the two short walls that separated the bedroom area from the kitchen section. They moved into a smaller section of the apartment, the left half taken up for the bathroom. The door was closed, so Graphite couldn’t examine all the obvious wonders that were probably waiting inside - all the toiletries and cosmetics that were waiting to be discovered. Sunny brought Graphite around the room and to the kitchen table, a simple wooden table with four legs and a table top - it couldn’t be any more lucid. Sunny brought him to the nearest chair, setting him down gently as he slid off the support of her shoulders and landed in the chair.

“There we go,” Sunny sighed with a bit of relief, “You’re heavier than you look.”

“Thanks, Sunny,” Graphite chuckled before he got more comfortable in the seat. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“It’s lunch,” Sunny winked as she started to dig around the cupboards, “And it’ll be a surprise.”

“Oh, well, I could eat almost anything about now.”

Sunny didn’t respond, she just continued moving through the cabinets and drawers. She had taken out several different cans and boxes from the cupboards, as well as grabbing a few canned vegetables from the small fridge. Graphite couldn’t see what Sunny was mixing up in the big wooden bow she had in front of her. He sat back, watching as she cooked up food for lunch.

Graphite decided not to disturb Sunny and went back staring around the apartment. He looked back to the bedroom, looking down to where the dog once was. Graphite was a bit confused, the dog being there just a moment ago. He thought for a moment, remembering the dog’s name was ‘Nero.’ He tried calling his name, calling ‘Nero’ in a exaggerated tone.

The dog still didn’t seem to be in sight, until something crawled up from under the table. Graphite chuckled, looking down to see Nero underneath the table with his tongue out and his tail wagging vigorously. He petted Nero on the head after being hypnotized by the dog’s glaringly brown eyes.

Sunny had just finished with her utensils, bringing the big wooden bowl over to the table. She went back to grab a clean plate from the cupboards and placed it ahead of Graphite, bringing the bowl over and scooping up some cabbage and such onto the plate. It was a menagerie of carrots, tomatoes, lettuce, and cabbage. Sunny had made Graphite a salad for lunch, sitting on the other side of the table as soon as she had finished serving his meal.

Graphite looked down at his meal, almost salivating over his first meal in days. He picked up his fork, stabbing it into the salad and devouring it. Graphite was delighting to taste fresh food rather than the pre-packaged and staled food from a can. He took in a few mouthfuls of fresh lettuce before he noticed Sunny not partaking in the meal. Graphite chewed his chunk of salad before opening his gob to speak, “Why aren’t you eating, Sunny?” He asked with some cabbage stuck between his teeth.

Sunny adjusted her hooves to sit easier on the table then smiled, “I’m not hungry, Graphite.”

Graphite set down his fork, “Not hungry? Did you have a big breakfast?”

“No, I just can’t eat right now.”

Graphite was slightly confused, with food being scarce in the wasteland, someone would be quite eager to get their hooves on this plate of fresh food. He was almost surprised Sunny hadn’t took all the food for herself, but he knew Sunny was a reasonable pony. He took his last bite of the salad, setting his fork down again.

Graphite turned around in his chair, about to get up from his chair to put the dishes in the sink. Sunny stopped him, jumping from her seat just as he moved to get up, “No, you’re still healing, Graphite. I’ll get your plate, you just sit here and rest.”

Graphite glared at Sunny, moving back around to sit with his legs under the chair. Sunny dropped the plate in the sink, letting the water rinse it off. Graphite didn’t want to disturb Sunny again, taking another awkward moment to look around the apartment. Nero had moved from his spot under the table, moving just a few steps to the side of Graphite’s chair. He grinned, moving his head up and over to the small table against the wall. He spotted the pictures, catching one he could see. He noticed Sunny in the middle, standing by three other ponies. He guessed they were her family, maybe her friends. Graphite turned about, facing Sunny, “So, Sunny,” He roused, “Is your family nearby? We are in your apartme-”

“-Oh, no, none my family moved in to the apartments. Most of the tribe had gone out to the world, a lot of them moved somewhere west. I think D-”

“-Tribe?” Graphite interrupted with a raised brow, “Your home doesn’t remind me of a tribal shack at all.”

“Maybe we are wearing more clothing and understand more about technology than the usual tribes, but we’re still a tribe - a linked family of families. Our tribe formed right after the war from the ponies who were in this part of Buckago when the bombs fell. We have still kept most of the pre-war ways since there weren’t many visitors from the outside. That is why we’re different than most of the tribes you would meet.”

“Different? How?”

“Well, we are more compassionate than others. We care for one another, and won’t ignore an outsider that’s in need. We have even been taking in any foal without parents or any pony to watch them - we will care for it just like one of our own.”

“I hope that’s true. It seems that ponies don’t trust anyone who isn’t one of their own now. I’ve been shot at for just being a stranger.”

“It has happened to me too, but that is just why I love returning home even more.”

Sunny came back to the table, grabbing the chair on the opposite side of the table and bringing it closer to Graphite. She took her seat then grabbed for Graphite’s hoof.

“So, uhh... will I get to meet your family?”

“Yes. Right after we go and see the doctor; I’m sure that she’ll be happy that you’re awake.”

“I just hope that she has something for my hurting shoulder.” Graphite rubbed his shoulder, rolling it to see if it would still ache when he moved it.

“I’m sure that she has some sort of painkillers,” Sunny added then started to giggle. “And if not, I can just kiss it better!”

Graphite blushed a bit, somewhat enjoying Sunny’s suggestion. Graphite scooted his chair back, sliding out from his seat and slowly standing from the seat. Sunny moved over to his aid again, helping him from the chair and unto his hooves. Graphite shooed Sunny off a bit, inclined to stand on his own hooves. He got on his hind hooves, then set his front hooves on the floor - pulling his left arm back as it pressed against the floor. Sunny grabbed him, about to hold him up until he nudged her away again.

Graphite was standing - on just three legs, but he was up. He hobbled around, heading to the door until Sunny stopped Graphite again.

“Wait, you’re not dressed,” Sunny reminded.

Graphite looked down, spotting himself in the nude. He looked back at Sunny, noticing she was just as naked as he was. He smirked, hobbling back around to Sunny, “Let’s get dressed then- where’s my armour?”

“Your armor got damaged after that shot. I left it at my brother’s workshop. He loves to repair and upgrade things, so it’s in good hooves,” Sunny pointed back behind her. “I’ll see if have something you could wear in my wardrobe. Stay here.”

Graphite did as she ordered, standing with his left arm raised so he didn’t hurt anymore than it should. The dog had stood just as they got up from their seats, curious to where there going and what they were doing. Nero seemed fond of Graphite, coming up to him as he stood unbalanced. He came up to him, nudging his head against the leg Graphite needed to keep from falling face forward.

Graphite pushed the dog back using his back leg, starting to wobble and sway as he picked his leg up from the floor. The dog came right back, rubbing against his back legs now. Graphite ignored it, at least he could stay up now. Sunny came back, holding a worn, plaid jacket. The lines on the jacket were all shades of a dark green, with the squares in between being a yellow-green colour. Sunny came up to Graphite, shaking out the dust and wrinkles from the jacket.

“Here, I found this in the wardrobe, I think that it should fit you just fine,” Sunny mentioned. She unzipped the jacket open, bringing it over Graphite’s body and helping him to get his arms through the sleeves. He got the jacket on then zipped it back up himself; Sunny went back to the wardrobe to grab clothes for herself.

She came back shortly, wearing the yellow dress Graphite had found for her. Sunny passed by Graphite and opened the door for him, he took his time to trump his way out of the apartment. Graphite stopped when he got near Sunny, taking a moment to admire her and her dress. He smiled, he was sure there wasn’t any other dress that could make Sunny look nicer. Sunny smiled back at Graphite, then he continued his painful march out the door.

Sunny closed the door as the both left, the dog standing by and watching as the left. Sunny joined up with Graphite, walking alongside him as he limped down the hallway. Sunny rested her hoof on his back, facing him to talk, “You’re going to need help down the stairs, Graphite.”

Graphite shook his head, “No, I can make it down the steps. It might take some tim-”

“-We’re on the third floor, Graphite.”

Graphite paused before he sighed, “Okay, you can help me down the first few steps.”

Sunny patted him on the back in response, taking him over to the stairwell at the end of the hallway. The hallway looked a bit like the apartment, just as old and just as worn. The wooden planks along the floor were scuffed with hoofsteps, the staining over the wood chipped away. The walls were pasted with an old wallpaper, most of the sections had warped and started peeling off the wall. They passed a few more apartments, each door a solid block of dark wood with a golden plaque that had the room number on the door.

Graphite and Sunny trudged down the hallway until they finally reached the stairwell. Graphite grabbed the wooden rail that went across the outcropping and down the stairs. Sunny stepped down the first few steps, reaching out her hoof for Graphite. Graphite released his grip on the rail, taking in a deep breath before reluctantly heading down the stairs. He grabbed her hoof tight with his left arm, stepping down the stairs sideways to keep from slipping. Sunny kept hold of his hoof, watching him with a close eye as she backpedalled down the wooden stairs. The stairs descended a bit before spinning down the stairwell along the path of the wall. He made it down the the first flight -- now two more to go. The task was longer than either had planned, but they made it down without a hitch.

After making it down and to the front door, they both walked outside. The door opened up to a lively neighborhood, something resembling a town from before the war. The buildings had aged and definitely showed it, but all of the doors and windows were in their places so it worked as it should. The pavement had cracks, but no sections were missing, and none of the blocks were upturned like in the rest of the city. Some small stores were still open, their windows adorned with some old posters of the produce and discounts the stores offered. Ponies were merrily trotting in the street; wearing the same kind of clothes as they did in the old days. This bustling neighborhood in the middle of a completely desolate city was almost impossible to believe, Graphite felt as if he was stuck in a dream.

“Well, this is my home,” Sunny smiled as she helped Graphite out of the apartment building.

There was another set of stairs stepping down from the entrance; a set of stone stairs just as wide as the entrance to the apartment.

“Sunny this is... is... wow. It’s all just like when I was a foal,” Graphite stated as he was slowly walking down the stair, awestruck.

Graphite starting stepping down the stairs carelessly, paying no attention to the one stair that was shorter than the rest. Graphite stumbled over, Sunny rushing over to grab him,“Graphite! Watch where you’re going!” Sunny griped. “You could have fallen down the stairs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Just that this- this...”

“It’s wonderful, I know,” Sunny blew a sigh and moved closer to Graphite. She still held him by the hoof while they both cherished the scene of the grand neighborhood and its busy bunch of citizens. Soon, Sunny realized that there were places where they should be going and she nudged Graphite, snapping him out of his day dream.

Sunny grabbed Graphite’s hoof tighter, guiding him down the street towards the doctor’s clinic. Along the way, Graphite passed by a few of the friendly faces that were going to and fro along the street with them. Graphite just gave a short grin back as the passed, until one particular face sent him into bewilderment. A zebra passed him as they walked, giving him a tip of the hat just as they caught eyes.

Graphite’s eyes widened, his already idle paced slowed further as his surprise suddenly stopped him in his tracks. His flashbacks had intruded in the present, a thought of being suddenly chopped down by a zebra’s machete attacked Graphite’s thoughts. Graphite’s focus was diverted to the zebra, Sunny having to stop his walk before he collided with a pedestrian.

She turned his head towards her face, “Graphite? Are you alright - you almost ran into that stallion.”

Graphite looked to Sunny in the corner of his eye, his main attention was being taken up by the series of zebras to go by them as they stood in the middle of the street, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You seem troubled, are you dizzy or anything- or maybe you need a seat-”

“-No, it’s something else,” Graphite interrupted.

Sunny followed Graphite’s line of sight to the sidewalk, a few zebras had stopped there and were talking to one another. She turned back, confused, “Is... is it the zebras?”

Graphite didn’t respond.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of zebras in the settlement. Before the war, this is where most of them lived. Come to think of it, they were the ones to start this tribe,” Sunny pulled Graphite closer, bringing her lips near his ears, “Is there a problem with you and zebras?” She asked in a whisper.

“Well, when the first thought when you see a zebra is ‘He’s going to kill you,’ it’s kind of hard to be around so many.”

Sunny just became more confused, his answer raising more questions, “What do you mean, Graphite; none of them are going to hurt you.”

“I’m sure they won’t - it’s just that, back in the war, the zebras were the ones taking pot shots at me while I sat in a little hole in the ground trying to not get my head blown off.”

“Yeah, but-”

“-Or trying to sneak up on me and cut my neck open...”

Sunny stood silent after the last comment. Graphite stood with her, just as quiet. Sunny looked at her hooves, then down the street before turning back to Graphite, “Well... just stay close to me, okay?”

Graphite gave her a single nod; this time, he was the one to hold hooves tight. Sunny grinned when they grasped hooves, leading Graphite lovingly down the street. The two ponies walked down the that was street full of zebras, Graphite hugged close to Sunny for the zebra’s safety. His training had trained him to kill a zebra on sight with anything he had on him, even if it was going to be his bare hooves, he had been taught to kill a zebra in more ways than one. The zebras felt the opposite towards Graphite, seeing him as an injured stranger and being as friendly as they could in the tiny moment they walked by and could get a word in edge wise. A smile, a tip of the hat, a ‘Good day.’ Graphite could only reply back with a nervous smile and unsteady eye.

The clinic was just around the corner; Sunny pointed it out, it seemed to be hiding inside one of the apartment buildings. She pulled Graphite up on the sidewalk, then walked him the rest of the way to the steps that were set in front of the building. The two climbed the stairs, making to the door where Sunny was there too hold it open. Graphite hopped inside, finding himself an a very makeshift doctor’s office.

They stepped into a small foyer; some long seats were set up against the wall, so Graphite assumed it was the waiting room for the office. The wall sitting at the furthest end of the waiting area had a door installed, but it was boarded up with plywood for reasons unknown to Graphite. The right wall had another door, left alone and simply kept closed. On the left wall was an archway, a nurse had just stepped through it and was heading to the clinic section.

Graphite hobbled with Sunny to the next room over. Graphite noticed a few of zebras and ponies sitting in the room with wearing some bandages; the others, without any sorts of wraps but simply coughing up their lungs. Graphite stopped in the middle of the room, Sunny motioning for him to stay while she went into the next room to get a doctor.

Graphite was slightly worried to stand be standing in the room, of the few members in the room, most of them were zebras. These zebras had that aura around them that wasn’t as friendly as the ones trotting along outside. These seemed a bit tougher, these were the zebras that got their cuts and bruises in a fight. Graphite kept his head low and his body still, doing nothing to provoke any of the zebras in the room.

Sunny came back in a short time, coming over to Graphite’s side with a smile, “I got the doctor, she’ll be over in a moment.”

“How long?” Graphite wondered, shifting his eyes over to one of the zebras as he coughed.

“Don’t worry, these ponies are too sick to throw a punch,” Sunny chuckled.

Graphite smirked, his next worry was now catching whatever the zebras were carrying. He brought the arm he had to keep suspended near his mouth, keeping covered but also trying to make it look as nonchalant as possible. The doctor came by, calling for Sunny and Graphite. Graphite picked up his head, spotting the doctor standing under the archway. She was a lime green pegasus, with a pale orange mane. Her coat seemed frazzled, unkempt as she worked ‘round the clock’ to keep up with the wounded ponies and zebras; her hair was short cut and just as messy. Her eyes were a dark green to match her coat, and had a bit of eye liner surrounding it. She had a white overcoat that was stained in red blood and other disgusting stains. She was wiping her hooves clean just as she stepped from the operating area, facing Graphite and Sunny to speak, “Follow me, you two.”

Sunny nudged Graphite, grabbing his hoof after his attention was brought away from the floor. They followed the doctor out of the room and into the operating area, the room filled with ponies lying motionless in bed by nature. They passed a pony with a patch of gauze over her heart, it looked like she fell victim to that sniper sitting outside as well. The remaining patients were either sitting with odd boils on their faces or with large casts over their limbs.

The doctor brought them to a space with a bed free for use, patting the bed top to bring Graphite over, “Come sit here, Graphite.”

Graphite limped to the bed, climbing up the best he could with three legs. The bed felt flat, almost hard, but he didn’t expect much from a doctor’s office stuffed into an apartment building. He noticed while walking in that they knocked a few of the walls in to make the operating room larger. The doctor moved in front of Graphite, “It’s good to see that you’re awake already. Lets see how your wound is,” She stated, reaching for Graphite’s injured shoulder.

Graphite pulled his arm back a bit as she pulled it forward, the pain of the sudden jerk making him sear his teeth. The doctor looked at him, somewhat disappointed in him, “Try to keep still, Graphite.”

She grabbed his arm again, pulling it out and keeping it extended. She went for the bandages around his chest, undoing them and giving view to the open wound. There was a small, round hole in his shoulder, some of the skin around it had folded over it as it started to heal. Graphite felt a bit odd with a hole going through his body, the area feeling breezy and cool as the air passed by it. The doctor came closer, inspecting it with one eye, “Hmm... well, it looks a lot better than when you first came in here - the bleeding stopped and the swelling seems to have gone down a bit.”

Graphite stared at the hole in his body, not sure what to make of it. He turned to the doctor; her observations seemed a bit unprofessional, Graphite felt another worry over whether the doctor had any medical training passed first aid, “So- um, Doc,” Graphite mumbled.

The doctor turned her head from the wound to Graphite, “It’s Doctor Feelgood, Graphite.”

“Okay. Doctor Feelgood, how long, exactly, have you been a doctor?”

Feelgood stepped back, straightening out her jacket as she spoke, “Well, I started out as a nurse for one of the local Enclave bases,” She grinned just a bit, then continued checking Graphite’s wound.

“You seem to be very open about that you were working for them.”

“I’m careful with whom I share that information with, but if Deacon trusts you, so do I.”

“How do you know about me and him?” Graphite turned a bit on the bed top to get more comfortable.

“Well, first of all, I saw the button you had on your duster when they brought you in. I hid that button in the inside pocket of your coat so no pony would find out. The ponies over here are friendly, but I doubt that they’d like to make any more contact with organizations like the Pegasus Enclave. Then, I heard some rumors about a stallion making a lot of fuss in Rossmore, and leaving without a trace. Since trouble follows Deacon like his own shadow, I imagined that you and him had some sort of connection.”

“Yeah, I better keep my mouth shut about what happened back there.”

“I think so too,” Feelgood grabbed Graphite’s arm, pulling it down and up and moving it in small circles. She examined the wound, and Graphite’s reactions. Graphite didn’t make too many noises as she spun his arm around, so she set it down and stepped back, “So, how do you like our little settlement so far?”

“Err...” Graphite looked down and lowered his voice, “Can you keep some doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, umm... the place is fantastic, but there’s one thing - the zebras.”

“You don’t lik-”

“-No, no they’re all fine by me,” Graphite interrupted, “Just that - I’ve had some experience with them and well... I think that it might have left a scar.”

“Any psychological trauma can be just as bad as a physical one.”

Graphite kept quiet for a moment, giving the comment some thought. The Doctor came closer to Graphite, leaning on the bed, “I could probably help you out, Graphite - but I need to know more about what happened to you.”

Graphite sighed, he could remember everything that happened to him after the amnesia had passed and the flashbacks continued to play out in his dreams. Graphite turned to Sunny, who was waiting patiently by the bed before turning to the Doctor again.

“Well, Doc, you’ll have a hard time believing this, but I was in the great war.”

Doctor Feelgood raised her brow, pausing for words to say, “You... you don’t look old enough to have been in any part of the war, Graphite...”

Graphite reached for his pocket, planning to show her that newspaper cut-out he had kept in his pocket. He looked down, remembering he was wearing the jacket which Sunny gave him rather than his heavy uniform. He brought his hooves back to where they were, bringing his view back to the Doctor, “You gotta believe me - I even had a piece of an old newspaper to prove it!”

“Graphite, I think you’re just imagining things- maybe this wound is-.”

Graphite placed his head down in his hooves, but soon he brought his head up and started to look around before remembering Sunny, “-S-Sunny! You know I’m telling the truth.”

Sunny snapped back a bit, a reaction to being suddenly dragged into an argument, “Oh!” Sunny turned to the Doctor, facing her with her normal grin, “Well, Feelgood, I can honestly say that Graphite’s telling the truth. It, um, has to do with this complicated freezing process called... cryopreservation, yeah?”

Graphite nodded his head, then turned his head to see what the doctor had to say.

“Well, Graphite... damn - I would have never imagined you were actually that old. I don’t think I’ve ever heard about that cryopreserving, thing, but I’m sure it wasn’t fun,” The Doctor shook her head, then brought it back up when she was reminded of something. “Oh, I guess that you’re not imagining things; the only problem is that you have a problem I’m not sure I can solve -- but I’ll try my best.”

Graphite looked down as Sunny wrapped her hoof around him. He just let out an ‘oh.’

“Yeah,” Graphite sighed, “When I was knocked out - I had dreams about the hill I was stationed on. I was sent to the Triolet Islands with only one mission - protect the hill - and that’s what I did. Life on the hill was mainly routine, like beat back a few fanatics who thought that they could try and storm the hill in small groups. Soon, we started to receive reports of increased zebra activity, but we couldn’t guess that they’d storm the hill like they did. They fought hysterically and destroyed any opposition they encountered and had almost taken the hill. By that time, I woke up and somehow managed to make my way up the hill and reach the top. Over there I learned that help was on its way so me and a few others tried to defend the hilltop. We fought through the night and all of us fell- all accept me who got a rifle butt to the face.”

Sunny patted Graphite’s back as he was taking another breath.

“Yet, the worst part came when the troops from the Trottingham regiment arrived. They found me and apparently, to them, it seemed that I had killed an entire company of troops and managed to hold the hill all by myself. I got accounted for all of the kills, but the zebras I killed weren’t soldiers - they were new recruits, most of them looked like they were almost foals. And I killed them... and you know what they did in the end? They gave me awards -- I almost became a celebrity. But I never asked for that, and I was never to pay the price which I did.”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor asked, looking down the room just to have a quick check on the other patients.

“First of all, my mother died while I was away. Apparently, even with all the money I made on the front, we couldn’t afford to fix her poor heart. My papa was angry at me for not being with her in her last moments. Then the army had planned out that I was too busy to be with my friends and that I had to attend in all sorts of stupid soiree’s and whatnot. I was there as more of a show-piece than a hero, ponies only cared for me because of my medals. Once I realized that I just kind of drank that realization away. After the days of drunken rage and hangovers, I got a message from the army saying they wanted me for an exhibit -- making me live up to my reputation as a show-piece. I guess that the army and the ministries saw some sort of profit in it.”

The three of them were silent, the Doctor and Sunny standing with their thoughts to themselves. Graphite ran his hoof through his mane, blowing a choked up sigh as he felt tears trying to flow out.

“It seems that you’re suffering from post traumatic stress,” The doctor broke the silence in a soft tone. “There’s no medicine I could give you, but there is a way is a way some pony could help you.”

Graphite brought up his eyes and looked at the doctor, who was looking to Sunny. Graphite averted his attention to her as well, waiting for the Doctor to speak. Sunny was crossed between looking towards Graphite or Feelgood, but she was dragged to the doctor when she finally came out and spoke.

“Sunny,” She called, “You seem to be closest to Graphite. Without any medicines to prescribe or any therapies I could give, you are Graphite’s best chance at recovery for his current condition.”

Sunny stopped, taking just a small moment to think about it. It didn’t long for her to see that this was best, happy to know she could do something for Graphite after all he’s done for her, “Of course, I’d be happy to help. After all, he did save my life on more than one occasion - I guess it would be a way to say thanks for doing that,” She looked to Graphite starry eyed and smiling wide.

Graphite smirked, about to jump out of the bed when he remembered the hole still burrowed in his shoulder. The Doctor stopped him from moving, holding him back with her hoof, “Let me get you some new bandages and I’ll send you out.”

She stepped out, leaving Sunny and Graphite to their own things. Sunny jumped up on the less than cozy bed, wrapping her arm around Graphite’s one good one. They kept close and kept silent, just enjoying the embrace. Feelgood came back with a roll of white bandages, unraveling them as she came over to Graphite. She wrapped his wound, Graphite and Sunny gave their gratitude, and then they were on their way. The Doctor left Graphite off with a simple, ‘Keep your arm elevated and try not to move around too much.’

They were heading out of the doctor’s clinic, Graphite left with the unorganized method of practice the doctors and nurses had established. Sick and hurt ponies would walk in, the doctors would patch them up, and then they shoved them back out into the world after paying a bill. The world had changed in the past two hundred years. Graphite wasn’t surprised at this, he just didn’t expect to be alive to see the changes. It was a drastic change from his time and now, and Graphite was still trying to get use to the fact that zebras weren’t trying to kill him.

The two funneled down the street, reaching the apartment while the sun was still overhead. Graphite hobbled through the entrance, taking a enduring hike back up the flights of stairs before they finally got back into their apartment on the third floor. Sunny searched through her cupboards, finding a few cans of carrots that were still good. She walked over to the stove, placing over the heater after opening the top with a spare knife.

Graphite was sitting at the table, napkin by his plate and fork. Sunny served the steaming carrots with a glass of clean water -- something Graphite couldn’t drink without thinking of how many ponies were in the wastes, groveling through the dirt trying to find water that was drinkable. It wasn’t a thought enjoyed having, but it was stuck in his head along with all of his memories from before the wasteland outside existed.

Graphite’s mind continued to got through it’s usual thoughts, eventually cycling back to a question he wanted to ask, “So, Sunny,” He aroused, “You seemed really eager to help me out of my condition- not that I mind, but I just wanted to know why.”

“It’s because we’re a family Graphite. Like I said back in the clinic, you saved my life more than once; now, the least I can do is make yours worth living.”

Graphite smiled, but let it fade away as he chewed his bites of carrots. There wasn’t anything he thought of that would improve the moment, the moment when he realized he had a family again. It was almost a new feeling to Graphite, his last family long gone and almost forgotten. Having a family in this new and cruel world was a blessing since they could actually be trusted. Your family would always be there to protect you, to love you, and to feed you. Graphite looked down to his food, grinning to himself just before he finished off his plate of carrots.

After the dinner, they cleaned up. A quick shower in water no warmer than what came from the sink. They didn’t bother finding pajamas, tonight was a special night. It was the first night Graphite was conscious after a while and it certainly looked like Sunny was in the mood for some celebration. Graphite had the sheets pulled just halfway up his body, Sunny was holding herself close to him with a hoof wrapped over his chest and over his bandage. Graphite kept his other hoof bent, a habit to keep his shoulder from clenching up. Sunny rested her head on the shoulder that he still had intact, starting to slowly rub her hoof over the fur on his chest, “Did I already tell you that I missed you?” She grinned, her eyes glaring at him seductively.

Graphite’s ears perked, his body heating up when he found her intentions. He rolled over, bringing himself atop of Sunny. Graphite stopped himself just a moment before starting, turning to the lamp sitting on the side table right of the bed. Graphite flicked the lamp off, turning back to Sunny in the dark.

Chapter 26: Don't Think Twice

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It took Graphite a week to recover from the shoulder injury, but Sunny was always at his side to provide him support. The days passed slowly, Graphite spent most of the time home since he was still uneasy about all of the zebras outside; but he kept himself, and Sunny, entertained by telling Sunny stories of what had happened on the front. He told her about the ponies he had met on the field of battle and his companions, like Blue Jay and Spotty. Sunny was always there to listen to him and comfort him if he ever started to feel bad about what had happened. She proved that making other ponies smile was her special talent more than ever.

Graphite’s peaceful rest came to a close when early one morning he received the message that someone important wanted to see him. There was a knock at the door, Graphite was sitting in the bed, slowly recovering from his wound with boredom. Sunny walked to the door, opening it to a young zebra standing astute in front of the doorway. The zebra was wearing a plaid jacket, decked in maroon stripes and lighter red squares. He had wrapped a belt with magazine pouches around the waist of the jacket and had strapped a large combat knife to it. The zebra had a scar going slashed across his cheek, a detail that was hard to miss. Graphite’s ears perked as the knock echoed into the room, lifting himself up from the mattress and leaning over to look into the doorway. His eyes caught site of the zebra and his large knife he had with him - Graphite’s eyes widening and his fears returning to him.

“I have a message for a ‘Graphite,” The zebra uttered.

“Oh, he’s right on the bed,” Sunny pointed out, stepping out of the way as the zebra stepped into the room.

Graphite was still looking over, the zebra was standing over him looking down on Graphite as he lay in the bed, “So, you’re Graphite?”

“T-that’s me,” Graphite responded with a choked answer.

The zebra cleared his voice, “I have a message from Maji: she requests your presence at her hall.”

“Um- Alright, but, why me?”

“Maji has heard of your great heroics, and would be pleased to meet you herself.”

“Oh,” Graphite looked down to the bed sheets, a bit relieved the pony was out to assassinate him. He continued, his eyes still towards the bed, “I didn’t any pony would notice,” Graphite leaned his head back, looking to Sunny, “Who’s ‘Maji’?”

“Maji,” The zebra cleared out his throat again, “Is the leader of this settlement. She also holds the role as director for the orphanage across from her hall.”

“Okay... Tell her that I’ll be there soon.”

“Very well,” The zebra said and nodded slightly. He left the apartment and Sunny shut the door behind him as he went.

“That’s so typical of her,” Sunny sighed.

Graphite sighed too, but left his sigh to turn to Sunny, “Typical of who?”

“Maji always sends a messenger, but she never arrives herself. Even to the apartment her daughter’s lived in for the past few years.”

“The tribe’s leader is your mother?” Graphite’s voice picked up slightly.

“Well, sort of. She found me, she gave me my name, she was taking care of me, but I never really got to call her my mother. Maji never really showed any sorts of compassion towards the foals she was supposed to be raising, but I guess that she didn’t want to make one foal more loved than the others.”

“That’s umm...” Graphite’s voice faded down as he ran out of words to say.

“It’s okay, Graphite,” Sunny smiled, “At least me and the rest of the foals in the orphanage got closer to each other,” Sunny turned to the kitchen, but quickly turned back when she remembered another subject, “Oh, Sierra’s parents did show some sort of attachment to me - even if I wasn’t their daughter in the slightest.”

Graphite smiled, dropping his head back on the pillow he had under his head. He sighed, throwing the sheet off of him as he gradually made his way out of the bed. Sunny was already waiting by the bed to help him up, she had gotten used to the routines over the past week and a half, ready to help Graphite down and up the stairs; pull him out of bed; grab his coat for him; make his food; and anything else Graphite couldn’t do without four hooves. He made it out of bed, Sunny already had his jacket around him and zipped up before he could notice.

They made their way out of the apartment. Sunny guided Graphite through the small neighborhood to Maji’s Hall, Graphite keeping close so he wouldn’t get lost or beat down a zebra for looking at him the wrong way. The walk through the town seemed just like any other stroll through the city of Buckago; a mindless trot down an a street that had no bends or curves, a walk without either one saying a word, a gallop with all the same sights of buildings and broken sidewalks. The only difference being that the streets were full of ponies, Graphite and Sunny not being the only ones going down the road.

The sidewalks were cluttered with vending stands and carts of goods. The buildings were covered with zebra decorations and ornaments from their homeland. Most of their decor involved painted masks and murals that ran across the walls. The paintings were exciting and full of colour - bright shades of red, yellow, and orange made up the design. The pictures seemed to tell a story, whether a tale of how something came to be, or of major events that happened in their home country. Graphite stopped to look at one adornment that peaked his interest.

Sunny stopped with him, staring at the brick wall by them. The brick wall spanned a pretty large length down the sidewalk before it finally stopped. The wall was missing bricks here and there, the empty spaces filled in with small candles. Along the base of the wall were also candles, lining all the way down the bricks. Sunny let him take in the sight a moment before she divulged, “This wall, and its candles, are here to represent those who had died in our tribe.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, one candle for anyone who had lost their life. They’re missing from our lives, just like the pieces are missing from this wall.”

“And Sierra?” Graphite questioned without a second to think of what exactly he had just asked.

Sunny paused, looking down at her hooves. She took a deep breath; she had told herself she had gotten over Sierra’s death, but there was still that memory in her mind, that memory of her last words. Graphite looked down to Sunny, a bit worried she would begin to cry in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. She sighed again, grabbing Graphite by the hoof and directing along the wall, “Yes... I placed one down here...”

Graphite was examining the wall as they both walked along it. There were dozens of candles sitting in the small holes. Each of the candles had something placed on the wall together with them, like a piece of jewelry or a photography. Sunny however didn’t pay any attention to the wall, she kept on walking with out even looking at the wall until she stopped and approached it.

“There she is... That’s what’s left of her...” Sunny pointed out a candle that was sitting in a gap of the wall about eye level to Graphite and Sunny herself.

The candle was accompanied by a small picture of a zebra mare and a red pearl necklace. She had chocolate brown eyes and a soft, inviting smile. Sierra hadn’t much hair, but what her mane couldn’t show her coat made up for. Her coat was white with black stripes - Sierra was a zebra. Graphite was taken for a stupor, surprised to find such an unsung fact.

“Sierra looked like a nice mare,” Was all Graphite said about her.

“I know,” Sunny said hardpressed, “You know, it’s been a long time, but I still miss her sometimes,” She frowned even further and rested her head on Graphite’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that she misses you too - wherever she might be now,” Graphite pressed his cheek against Sunny’s head.

They shared the moment in silence; a zebra bumped into Graphite as he walked and knocked a thought back into him, “We have to see Maji.”

Graphite turned to Sunny, saying the exact same words that popped into his head. She brought her head up, then grabbed Graphite’s hoof, “Yeah - and it’s not much further.”

They pressed on for a few more blocks before they reached a large building that was built in the centre of most of the town. It was a huge, three story building -- four counting the four towers that were at each corner of the building. The four towers had what looked like straw roofs, but it seemed more of the design rather than actual grains of grass. The walls looked like plasters of red clay, very flat and simple design but clearly told the origin of the design. The front had an open balcony for the second and third floor, a rugged fence made of sticks and wire string went across the ledge of it. After checking out the clay pillars that held up the roof over the balcony and fine artwork that was painted around the ridges of the building, Graphite and Sunny moved across the street and entered into building.

Two guards were standing in attention just outside the main entrance. They were standing in the same uniform as the messenger - any jacket they owned and a belt with pouches strapped to it. They each had a sub-machine gun slung around their shoulder, a mostly steel built gun besides the wood hoof guard, stock, and handle. The magazine was straight and narrow, only big enough to hold .45 rounds. The gun looked similar to the gun Blue Jay carried with him during the war, with only the size of the magazines being different.

The guards stopped Sunny and Graphite, taking a moment to inspect them. It wasn’t much of an inspection, just a quick look over just in case they weren’t going to barge throw the front door with guns blazing. They let the two in, opening the door for them without a word of acknowledgement passed the examination. They walked into the main room, a very wide open room with a grand staircase ahead of them.

The lobby had rows of long wooden pillars that spanned the height of the roof three floors up. On the roof, were six colossal chandeliers with large fabric fins to cover the lights. The fabrics were painted in the tribe’s colours; bright red and a shade of orange and yellow. The main floor at the bottom of the staircase was enshrouded with trophies and priceless artifacts that were guarded in a thick glass display case. The floor was made of a dark wood carved with intricate designs Graphite was intrigued to look at and admire. The basic structure of the room shared no difference from the exterior, but now the walls were more of a golden colour rather than a faded red.

Sunny grabbed Graphite, pulling him to follow her up the wooden staircase. Graphite waddled up the stairs, Sunny keeping him close as if they were climbing the piles of rubble through the city once more. The top floor was the same etched wood, but now was covered in a extensive carpet. The threading of the carpet showed a story as the murals did outside. The rug was very well made, but the main focus of the space was the zebra sitting underneath a pointed tarp at the end of the room.

Sitting atop a chair that was dissected from a tree’s trunk was the tribe leader, Maji; her head crowned with a traditional headdress of beads, strands of coloured yarn, and fancy ornaments and trinkets. The zebra looked like any other; white coat, black stripes, eyes with some shade of brown - in this case, a very piercing and vivid shade of brown. Her face was a bit stern, a bit serious, but most likely for the fact she was a ruler and a mother on the side. She had wrinkles around her eyes and was looking ahead at Sunny and Graphite as they made their way to her. Graphite noticed her dress as he came closer, a blue dress made for more casual working. A simple cotton dress with a belt and a few buttons going down from the neck of the dress. Over the dress, was a brown leather overcoat that looked pretty thick and fit very long around the arms. On both the dress and overcoat were a few embroideries of symbols from the zebra lands. Graphite couldn’t figure what they could have meant, but they fit with the headdress better than just the plain, pre-war clothes she had on. To finish her outfit was a bit of cloth wrapped around her neck like a scarf; it was many shades of blue stripes and zig-zags.

They got up to the throne where she sat, the guards strategically placed about the room glaring at them with their weapons ready. Sunny tilted her head down a bit, Graphite doing the same when he noticed there was still chivalry to be given in this world. Maji stepped down from the throne she sat in, coming up to Graphite and Sunny as they bowed gently - her headdress jingling against itself as she walked, “Good day to you Sunny and Graphite,” She greeted.

“Hello, Maji,” They both replied.

“You,” Maji directed her attention to Graphite, “Must be that stallion I have heard about.”

Graphite nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good...” She turned to Sunny now, “...If you could wait outside, Sunny, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Sunny looked up, “Oh... of-of course, Maji.”

She turned about, taking a final look at Graphite before she started her way down the stairs. The room was silent, both Graphite and Maji were watching as she slowly trotted out of the building. The room was filled with the echoes of her hoofsteps, finally stopping with the sound of the door shutting closed. Maji and Graphite turned to each other, Maji beginning to peruse Graphite, “I assume that you know why I have called you here today.”

“No, the messenger you sent only said that you wanted to see me.”

“Well, let me explain the reason of your visit. I’ve heard that you have met Xain.”

“Xain?”

“Yes, Xain. There is a legend amongst this tribe, Graphite,” Maji shifted positions in her chair, clearing her throat a bit. “Long before even I was born, there was a zebra. This particular zebra was just like any other, black and white with the tenacity to help those he was close to. Though things in the world soon fell apart; the ground underneath our zebra shook as the skies filled with a bright darkness. The zebras and ponies he knew were all called together to escape the invisible fire with the aid of those above them. As the citizens of the land crawled into the holes dug deep into the ground, our zebra was left behind - belittled by his peers. He was left in the green lands, just as the lake sunk into the city. Our zebra was left to burn in the fire without flames, his body turning into something rotten and without feeling. Just as his flesh turned corrupt, so did his heart. The zebra’s anger grew until his only purpose was in killing those who had forgotten him in his past life,” Maji came forward, facing Graphite with greater vigor. “This is the fate of the zebra named, Xain. He exiled himself to the island where he still resides, his hate spreading to those trapped on the island with him.”

“Well, it seems like Xain got off his island,” Graphite commented, stepping forward a bit to hear what Maji had to say next.

“Yes. He has also been attacking anyone that has come into his view, including us. Our scouts tracked him and found out that he is using a raft to get to us from his island.”

“So, how do I fall into this, Maji?”

The Chief stepped off of her throne, coming close to Graphite with her headdress still shaking with every movement she made, “Well, Graphite, only you share the legend with Xain - for you both were born before the fires that destroyed the city; and you both share the artistic talent of taking one’s life from afar,” Maji smirked, almost smiling pretentiously.

Graphite was a bit befuddled, worried to sound unprofessional in asking what she meant. He just kept silent, taking a moment to decipher the riddle of Maji’s poetic speech. Graphite looked up to the tribe leader, “How- how did you know I was from before the war?” Graphite asked in a very confused tone.

“What sort of a mother would I be, if I didn’t know my children?” She mentioned just before continuing with, “I’ve heard what they’ve been speaking about.”

Graphite smirked, moving on, “Well, if you believe it would work, Maji, I’d be happy to help - only, do you have any way to get me to the island rather than swimming there?”

Maji smirked, nodding her head a bit, “Yes. We have a boat. It is our old trading vessel, but even with the Xain lurking around, our trading hasn’t gone down. I will arrange for the ferry to take you to the island.”

“Thank you, Maji,” Graphite stepped back slightly, preparing to leave soon.

“I will also arrange some medicine and other supplies from the general store.”

Graphite bent his head down, leaving off with another ‘thank you.’

The Tribe Leader turned away, leading herself to her throne, “You may go now, Graphite.”

Graphite took a quick bow just before he turned tail and traveled down the large stairs to the door. He funneled out of the entrance, finding Sunny on the street corner just to his left. Sunny peeked over her shoulder, looking to the sound of the opening doors. She smiled to see it was Graphite, returning after a long wait, “Oh, there you are. I probably shouldn’t ask, but what were you two talking about?”

“Well, first, we need to head to the general store - I’m guessing you know where that is.”

“Of course I do, but will you tell me what you guys talked about?” Sunny continued to persist.

Graphite kept his same tone, keeping his smile down to a simple grin, “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Sunny gave up trying to get answers early, but she still kept the idea in her head. She grabbed Graphite, the two making their way down the street to the settlement’s general store. They crossed paths down another pack of zebras, Graphite keeping his head low. Graphite knew he was going to have to settle in with the zebras eventually, but he decided he could work on that when he gets back. Sunny and Graphite were nearing the store, Graphite realized this when Sunny had brought up something about it.

“About the general store, Graphite,” Sunny started, turning to Graphite as she spoke, “The store’s ran by Pneumo - my brother.”

“Your brother? I thought you said your family left to go their own ways?”

Sunny slowed her pace, “They did, but Pneumo and my other brother stayed with me. We were one of the closest in my family, so it only makes sense that we stuck together after all these years. Only, Tsoy - my other brother - he hasn’t been in town for awhile. I don’t know where he went, but I know he’s alive since I’ve received the occasional message from him.”

“Oh, goo-”

“-Also, Pneumo can be a little... nervous around others. So, don’t be alarmed by anything he does, okay?”

Graphite brought back his last response; now left without out a reply, he just nodded. The couple continued down the road until they finally came upon the general store. The store looked run-down, mostly from how old the building was. It was a two story building, but the top floor windows were completely boarded up and the lights shut off. The rest of the building was rotted wood with rusted metal bars in the windows near the entrance, the ornaments hanging randomly around the building were beginning to wear away. The doorway was wide open, the doors propped open by a few books and bag full junk. They trotted inside, seeing that the store was dark as night. Most of the light came from the setting sun’s rays that belted through the bars on the windows, but was still obscured by the shelves and such. The rest of the light was provided by a small lamp sitting on the counter to the left of the entrance. From what the two could see, there was a staircase just near the counter at the front, some loud noises coming from the room upstairs.

Sunny and Graphite glared to each other, looking about the empty store in search of signs of Pneumo. Graphite looked right, taking a walk through the dim aisles of canned foods and assorted bags of crisps. Sunny turned to her left, facing the counter and inspecting the trinkets resting on it. Passed the lamp were some magazines stacked on each other, a wrapper for some sort of candy, nuts and bolts, then a dusty bell. Sunny looked back to Graphite, who was shuffling through the most likely expired meals and beverages. She turned back to the bell, tapping it with her hoof and causing it to make a sharp ‘ding!’

A banging noise came from upstairs, the swarming sounds of metal equipment hitting the floor and landing against a table. A voice shouted out, “J-just a moment!”

A trampling creak of hooves against floorboard echoed from upstairs, finally revealing the pony Graphite assumed to be Pneumo. He came down the stairs fast, half way to tripping down them in his odd trot. He came down the stairs, shifting his eyes about the room, “Yes, who is it? What do you-” The stallion stopped himself when he noticed Sunny standing by the counter. “-Sunny! You’re here!”

He skipped to Sunny, giving her a swift hug, “Sunny! I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you? Are you feeling well? How’s Nero - is he doing well? How about-”

“-I’m fine, Pneumo,” Sunny finally stopped the barrage of questions, holding his shoulders to help him keep calm. “I’m here to pick up the armour.”

“Oh, of course. I was just finishing up some things with it, it’s not quite done - but I guess I could give you it. Why the sudden need for-”

“-Graphite needs it,” She stopped Pneumo again.

“Graphite? I don’t think I rememb- Oh, you mean that pony you dragged in from out of town? How’s he doing? Is he even alive?”

“I believe I am,” Graphite stepped from the aisles in announcement.

Pneumo almost leaped to the ceiling in surprise, twisting his head to Graphite, “Oh! I-I didn’t see you there... I-I- you’re alive! Ha, oh good, good... Um, well, I’m Pneumo... Sunny’s brother... uh...”

Pneumo crunched his hoof to his oil stained jacket he had on, the black splatters clearly visible on the tan coloured jacket. His head was looking down to the floor, avoiding eye contact with Graphite. His mane was ungroomed and made up of messy spikes. He was wearing thin framed glasses, his hoof keeping it up his nose as it periodically slipped from his snout. His coat was white with black stripes - Pneumo was a zebra.

Graphite clenched his teeth, another surprise from the zebras smacking Graphite in the face. He came up to Pneumo; Pneumo making a few tiny steps back from him. Sunny came up to Pneumo, “Can we head up to your workshop?” She asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Pneumo nodded his head vigorously. Turning his head to the stairs, Pneumo started up the steps, “This way...” He directed.

Graphite and Sunny followed him up the stairs as he twitched up the stairs. Graphite was trying his best to be careful around the timid zebra, knowing just the slightest comment could break down the poor zebra. The zebra made it up the stairs and turned right into the next room with the duo coming in with him. The room was just as dimly lit as the main floor, a ceiling light attached to a broken fan was this area’s source of light. The walls were thoroughly covered in posters ranging from propaganda by the Ministry of Arcane Sciences; instructions for operating mounted guns and other machinery; random advertisements of food, clothes, and housing; and a few schematics for weapons. There wasn’t an inch of wall that wasn’t covered with the collection of posters, most of the fliers overlapping one another. The room had a number of tables and work benches, all of them cluttered in spare parts and half-finished weapons or armour pieces. At the end of the room, underneath the windows, was a work bench with a buzz saw and a power drill.

Pneumo was about in the middle of the room when he turned back to Sunny and Graphite, “Oh, watch out for that welder- there. I just turned it off - so it’s still hot, and I don’t want you to get burned because that would be bad and st...”

Graphite ducked his head a bit, turning to see a welding torch hooked to the wall - the nozzle glowing a blue tone. Sunny stepped around Graphite, bringing her voice up for Pneumo to hear, “So, where’s the armour, Pneumo?”

He pointed to the table resting by the doorway; there, the armour was sitting. Sunny took the armour, taking a close look at it. It was easy to spot a notable difference - a new chest piece made of a light Kevlar vest and a white button up to line the vest. The remaining pieces of armour were left the somewhat the same; the holes in the pants were patched and some of stains washed out of the fabric, and the duster’s sleeves were cut off. Sunny turned to Pneumo, who was standing with his head down at his hooves and trying to act as if he’s not there, “Did you change the armour, Pneumo?”

“Well, umm, yeah. The chest plate was damaged and couldn’t find anything to replace it with... Come to think of it, the riot armor looks kinda similar, but acquiring a set of that is almost impossible,” His last statement was almost impossible to understand; a mix of talking fast and mumbling each word he spoke. He continued after finding his train of thought, “...I did find an old bullet proof vest lying around, so I patched that up. The inside of that thing doesn’t feel too nice when it rubs against your coat, but I added one of my old shirts - I guessed it would fit since you seem to be wearing my old jacket, and that looks like it fits just fine, and yeah...”

“What happened to the duster’s sleeves?” Graphite inquired, pointing to the duster.

“Oh, umm, that was my mistake... I kinda accidentally spilled the paint on some of it when I was painting another one of my works -- um, this gun I was working on looked like it needed another coat of red, but then I brought the can over and then it started dripping and I was near your duster and- and- and-” Pneumo started to hyperventilate, grabbing his dirty jacket and pull it nervously.

Sunny ran up to him, grabbing his shoulders tight, “It’s fine, Pneumo, it’s fine - right Graphite?” Sunny turned to Graphite, glaring at him; her eyes telling him, “Say yes!”

“Yes- Yes! It looks, uh, quite nice now...”

Graphite slid over to the table, grabbing the suit with his levitation, “Maybe I can go put it on now.”

Sunny was holding Pneumo while he sniffled his tears back; he grabbed his glasses, cleaning them off on his jacket, “Oh, well, if you think it’s alright. There’s a... there’s a- um- bathroom back down stairs, right under the stairs. It’s not too clean, and I never had time to put decorations in it, and it is sorta small, but you can change down there -- if you want to.”

“I will, Pneumo...” Graphite left the room quickly, letting Pneumo settle back into a better state of mind.

He stepped down the stairs, turning a sharp right to the underside of the stairs where the bathroom door was waiting. Graphite stepped inside, closing the door ahead of him. Graphite was stuck inside a room barely big enough for him to even turn around. There was a toilet and a sink, nothing else in the room. The toilet had dried up, starting to mildew from lack of use and lack of cleaning. The sink looked about the same, the faucet rusty and chipped. Graphite unzipped his jacket, laying the coat on the sink as he brought his armour over.

He looked at his new suit, spinning it left and right as he inspected it. The new kevlar vest didn’t seem to be as tough as the steel plates, but he knew the piece would stop a bullet from going through his chest. He dusted off his pants and the torn duster, slipping it on easily. He was a bit relieved to see the new armour was easier to put on, the vest almost comfortable to wear. Graphite walked back out into the store, grabbing the jacket just before he shut the bathroom closed.

There was no mirror to check himself in, but he didn’t need it to know the suit fits. He jerked the shirt down to stop it from wedging against his body, then made his way to Pneumo’s workshop.

Graphite found himself in the dark room again. Pneumo was at the far end of the room showing Sunny a schematic he had drawn out himself. He was speaking a mile a minute, Sunny simply nodding her head as his hoof moved from one section of the paper to the next. Graphite trotted forward without watching his waltz. The tip of the welder grazed his cheek, Graphite grabbing it and searing his teeth from the sudden burn.

Pneumo jumped and let out a yelp, knocking over the screws he had scattered on the work bench, “Who- Graphite! Oh, um- um, are you okay? I told you about the welder- I should have put the welder somewhere else-”

“-Pneumo,” Sunny interrupted his usual rant, “I’m sure it was nothing.”

“I’ll be fine, just a little warmer around the cheek,” Graphite chuckled.

Pneumo made a loud sigh, “Oh, okay. Well, I remembered a package that one of the delivery ponies gave me - I think it’s why you came to my place to start with. It has a box of some different ammo, a rifle with an optical scope, a pistol, and a shortened pump-action shotgun. There are also some medical supplies: ‘Few doses of Med-X, a pack of bandages, and healing potions.”

“Yeah, those would be the things,” Graphite mentioned.

Sunny turned her head to Graphite, her eyes a bit distraught, “What do you need all those supplies for, Graphite?”

Graphite paused. He never wanted to tell Sunny what he and Maji had discussed, but it seems never had come too soon. Graphite took in a deep breath before sighing, “Well, Sunny, I didn’t want to tell you so you didn’t have to worry, but-”

“-Worry? What did Maji tell you, Graphite?” Sunny came forward a bit, her brother stepping back to his work table.

With another sigh, Graphite continued, “She sent me to kill that sniper outside of town. I needed to come here, to the general store, to pick up the supplies before I hop onto the boat that can take to the island that sniper’s on.”

“But, why? Haven’t you killed enough already?” Sunny raised her voice at Graphite.

“I know, Sunny - I don’t like it anymore more than you but-”

“-Then why are you going?”

“He tried to kill you and me, Sunny. If no one stops him, it could go on forever.”

Sunny groaned, “Yeah... the... Maji can’t send any pony else? Anyone at all?”

Graphite walked closer to Sunny, his and her voices were starting to dim down, “She called me in because I’m the only one with a good enough shot to take out that sniper.”

“I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised...” Sunny sighed and frowned, “I still don’t want for you to go,”

Graphite grabbed Sunny, hugging her tight against his vest. She grabbed Graphite back just as tight, pressing her head into the body of his vest, “I’d like to stay here with you too, but some one has to do this.” Graphite sighed.

Sunny stood in Graphite’s embrace for a while. A few tears started running down her cheeks. It was hard to tell ‘goodbye’ to some one you love and letting them go to a place where Celestia knows what could happen, but at least he wouldn’t have to say goodbye just yet.

Sunny finally pulled away from the hug. She shed the last of her tears, trotted back to Pneumo, “Just be-”

“-Could you take the package now, Graphite? Oh- Sunny, sorry; it’s just I don’t like holding onto someone else’s things for too long and... you might want to check it - make sure I didn’t forget anything...” Pneumo turned around, staring back at his schematic.

“Of course, um-”

“-It’s on the right table.”

Graphite trotted to the table Pneumo guided him to, finding that his bag was the package itself. He strapped it around his back, and was ready to head to the pier with Sunny. Sunny was standing by the doorway, trying to keep light in the situation by creating the best smile she could while somber. Graphite grabbed her by the hoof as he came to the door, Sunny emotionally squeezing it tight. She turned to Pneumo, finding the will to squeeze out a goodbye, “Pneumo, I’ll- I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Pneumo waved his hoof bye with his face still stuck in his schematic. Sunny lead Graphite out of the store and began to take him to the pier just across town. The swerved through the same crowd of busy zebras, moving left and right together as they made their way to the pier. They marched pass a few murals more, walked under another street webbed in hanging ornaments, and galloped passed the native building structures before making it to the settlement’s docking yard.

The docks were small, nothing compared to the docks of where his father used to work. There were only two piers, a large one and a smaller one - neither of them any big to begin with. The bigger pier had the boat Graphite was taking to the island waiting for him with the motors quietly buzzing. The smaller pier had a few small long boats wading in the water latched to the pier’s struts by rough rope.

The lake was covered in a overbearing fog, the only things visible beyond the pier was a white, thick cloud. Graphite was about to step up to the boat when Sunny stopped him. She pulled him close, squeezing him tight as she wrapped her lips around him and kissed him. They held the kiss for as long as they could hold their breath, then they let each other go with hearts heavy.

Graphite turned to the boat, watching as a figure in the fog hopped out of the boat and headed towards him. The trots bounced against the planks on the pier, then clicked against the concrete dock yard. A voice came from the figure asking, “Are you Graphite?” It inquired in a low voice.

Graphite squinted his eyes, looking to the figure until it finally came close enough to see. It was a very large stallion, big enough to carry the boat on his back. He was wearing a long, green jacket with a ragged white top underneath. Around his neck was a mess of thingamajigs; a brown cloth wrap, keys for all sorts of locks, and necklace with too many ornaments clinging too it. He was wearing a simple, tan cap with a pair of sunglasses resting on the rim. Over the rolling fog came his fur, a brownish tone with black stripes running up his neck and down his hind legs, just like a zebra. It didn’t take a genius to know the boat driver was half pony and half zebra.

Graphite came up to the zebroid, trying make himself stand as tall as the boat driver - it wasn’t working. He looked up to the zebroid, “Yeah, I’m Graphite.”

Sunny pushed Graphite aside with her hoof, her hoof clinging to Graphite and pressed against his side, “Tsoy?” She called and asked.

The zebroid lifted his cap, adjusting over his big head as he called back, “Sunny?”

Graphite sidestepped away from Sunny’s hoof, letting it slide off and land back on the ground.

“That is you, Tsoy!” Sunny hollered, leaning forward to hug the hulking zebroid - her arms barely able to wrap around him, “I haven’t seen you in so long! Why haven’t you told me you worked the trading route?”

The zebroid, who appeared to be Sunny’s brother Tsoy, kept his body still. He probably didn’t hug bag knowing he would crush Sunny with his muscle bound arms. He looked down to her, replying, “Well, I guess it just slipped my mind...”

“Of course it would slip your mind, I suppose your busy as captain of that ship, right?”

“Heh, I guess so.”

“Well,” Sunny backed off of the giant, patting off some dust from his jacket, “I’m glad you’re doing okay. Oh, well, Tsoy, this is Graphite.”

Graphite sidestepped back to Tsoy, offering a hoofshake to him, “You’re Sunny’s older brother, yeah?”

“Yes,” Was all he answered with, looking about the docks without any sort of focus on either Sunny or Graphite.

Graphite brought his hoof back, Sunny taking up the conversation again, “Take care of him, Tsoy, would you kindly?”

“I’ll try my best. If you could follow me, Graphite,” Tsoy turned, heading back to his boat that was still running near the pier.

Sunny grabbed Graphite before he could move, pulling him into a deep kiss. Graphite let her hold the kiss using her own strength to keep Graphite attached to her lips. She let him go, giving him a quick hug just before he went on his way, “Good luck, Graphite...”

Graphite smiled, “Thank you, Sunny.” Graphite took up Tsoy’s command, following just tail-side of Tsoy. Sunny was standing just at the edge of the docks, holding herself back from the pier knowing she would try to go after Graphite if she came any closer. The two stallions stood port-side to the metallic boat, Tsoy giving Graphite a moment to look at his transport.

It was a rusty, pale green boat, about big enough for a crew of four or five ponies. The wheel was in the middle of the ship, the pilot’s section was covered by a tarp that went across the width of the ship and held up by a few iron bars. Sitting behind the piloting wheel was an empty area free for ponies to stand and watch the water as the boat cruised along the dark river. Up front was a raised section of free room, only with a small seat sitting inside the raised section of boat. It looked as if guns used to be mounted to the ring that wrapped around the seat, Graphite realized this was an old military craft taken up by the settlement after the crew abandoned ship.

Tsoy kept his eyes locked on his craft, but quietly asked Graphite, “So, what do you think?”

“Well, if it can run, it’ll work for me,” Graphite smirked.

Tsoy was already halfway on the boat as Graphite finished his sentence. Graphite joined him, hobbling onto the boat with an ungraceful leap. Tsoy grabbed the wheel, bringing the boat out of idle and inspected all the gauges just to make sure everything was in order. Graphite walked to the rear of the boat, waving goodbye to Sunny while she did the same.

The boat drifted from the pier as the rotors spat up water, pushing the boat across the misty lake. Graphite waved for as long as the fog allowed him to see his loved one before it swallowed her up in its haze. Graphite turned back to the zebroid piloting the boat, trying his best to keep steady as the boat bounced against the waves.

The boat and its passengers were now on their way to the Xain’s island.

Chapter 27: I Would Like to See You Again

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Graphite was leaning against the small sliver of metal that separated the wheel and the small set of stairs that lead to the cabin underneath the ship. Tsoy was silently piloting the boat, keeping it straight and at a steady pace. Graphite kept just as quiet, there was no reason to bother Tsoy and no conversation for him to start. They let the air fill the vacuum of silence, along with the splashes of the boat smacking the water as it came over the waves. The steady groove of the boat bouncing against the cresting waves becoming just as familiar as the wind rushing through their manes.

Graphite was sitting against the large railing that ran along the rear of the boat and up around until it stopped at the covered section of boat. He was laying with his back against the rail and his head down, ready to fall asleep as the boat gently rocked him. He tried to close his eyes, but was always unsettled by something on him. He looked down, spotting his necklace rattling about as the boat continued to bob up and down.

Graphite stopped the necklace from bouncing, holding it in his hoof giving a moment of thought to it. The turquoise stone hadn’t worn down to any extent, the uncut stone still gleaming in the few rays that could break through the fog. Graphite remembered Adan and his mother Turquoise, the two probably still in the ghost town Carnen had become. The food rations he gave them would only last for a day or two, and he hoped that they would have found some more food by the time the rations ran out.

Graphite tucked the necklace into his shirt, bringing his head back against the railing and letting his eyes wonder upward to the sky that wasn’t in view. He stared blankly at the fog cast over the lake, taking another moment to go back through his things when he found the white mist was uninteresting. He dug into his pockets, finding a small object poking at his hoof. He pulled it out, finding it was a small button. It was the little metal pin Deacon gave him; the same one with the enclave’s symbol on it - a bold letter ‘E’ with about twelve stars spangling around it.

Graphite remembered Deacon, and the odd choice he had in sweaters. He was reminded of the order Stripe gave him, and was reminded of how Graphite blindly followed that order with no question or no say. How he was willing to take a life without even a second thought. Graphite’s current mission seemed very much like the one Stripe gave him, though Graphite knew this one was different. This time, he knew what the other pony did and why he deserved what’s coming to him. Besides, this one tried to kill him before - Graphite wasn’t prepared to let that happen again.

Graphite pinned his button back unto the collar of his duster, placing it on firmly. He turned his head, looking back at the water splashing starboard side. Graphite brought his hoof to his belt, resting it on his canteen as he watched the water droplets splash unto the deck of the boat. Graphite could almost form a smile from his next memory if he wasn’t so exhausted from his boredom.

His thoughts were with the kids back at the pharmacy further downtown. He first remembered Rotten - or rather - Peachy. Peachy’s unrestrained temper and his lack of manners was the most prominent thing he could remember about that colt. All the other fillies and colts came to mind shortly after Peachy’s ranting faded away in his head. Hot-Sauce; Olive; Angel Eyes; Blanky; Gumdrop; and the oldest Filly there, Mayflower. Now there was a thought, a feeling of a bond. Graphite felt a family bond in the kids, a strong feeling that felt like an emptiness knowing he wasn’t with them. His greatest worry was with the mute Olive. He supposed he shared his feelings the most with Olive seeing as the poor colt saved his life while Graphite was half choked to death by a griffon.

Graphite sighed, his sigh a bit exaggerated. The sound of Graphite’s sigh blew into Tsoy’s ears, making them perk before he turned to face Graphite. He spotted Graphite laying with his head pressed against the railing, he had something in his hooves. Graphite was holding his wallet eye level, staring at the photo of his parents he had kept in it. All the thoughts of ponies he had met, and now that feeling of missing family has brought him to the memory of his parents. Graphite was almost frozen in his position, lying still as he stared at the picture of his family.

Tsoy turned back to the lake, taking a moment as the boat propelled slowly through the water to think. He sighed as well, keeping his sigh undertone. The boat slowed until it reached a stall, now the vessel and its crew were sitting idly in the empty lake.

Graphite finally made a movement, turning his body and bringing himself to a sitting position against the rail, “Why did we stop, Tsoy?” Graphite wondered, leaving his wallet in his lap.

“It’s dangerous to go ahead in fog this thick.”

“We’re supposed to move in the cover of the fog,” Graphite implored, “Why did you stop?”

“Some of the sunken houses might be ahead. I don’t want to ram my boat into one.”

“Sunken houses?”

“Yes. Apparently when the bombs dropped, they broke some of the dams and that caused a large part of downtown Buckago to be filled with water. Add to that the fact that the buildings have collapsed over the years and you’ve got yourself an underwater death trap.”

“Alright, so what do we do now?”

“We wait,” Tsoy answered, looking up to the fog that was starting to look up to the fog that just seemed to only get worse through time. He dropped against the rail, sitting down next to Graphite.

Graphite shared the view of the cloud for a short while, then looked back down to his lap where the picture of his parents were still in sight. Graphite brought the wallet back up, using his telekinesis to bring the wallet close. Tsoy turned his head away to the fog, looking to the faint, light blue shine that had lit in the corner of his eye. Tsoy looked down, spotting the photo of Graphite and two other ponies, “What’s that?”

“Oh... it’s a picture of me and my parents...”

“I’m guessing that one in the middle is you,” Tsoy pointed to the photo, his hoof toward the stallion in blue.

“Yep,” Graphite nodded, “That’s me after I graduated from high school...”

Tsoy raised a brow, turning to Graphite and making sure his low voice could be heard, “How’d you manage a picture like this?”

“What do you mean?” Graphite raised a brow back.

“Well, you’ve managed to take a picture in the first place.”

“Oh, yes,” Graphite paused, “Well, these were taken before the war.”

“What war do you mean?”

Graphite took in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he strained to continue. He blew out his breath of air and continued, “The Great War, believe it or not. I used to be a marine back then...”

“You don’t look that old to me,” Tsoy stated, crossing his hooves as went to take a second look at Graphite.

“Umm, wait a second,” Graphite started to dig around the inside of his duster. He soon pulled out the newspaper cutout and showed it to Tsoy. As Graphite’s only way of proving his story, he was quick to act on grabbing that newspaper piece from his duster. The large stallion sat there for a while, reading the paper for a short while, only to come to a conclusion that Graphite wasn’t lying.

Tsoy gave back the cutout to Graphite who neatly folded it and placed it in his duster. Tsoy cleared his throat out, returning to the conversation, “That’s very strange but, did your parents make it through the war too?”

“Well,” Graphite shook his head, biting his lip before he could form his words, “When I was at the front, I couldn’t find the time to write letters home. During that time, my mother died because of her weak heart and I wasn’t there to see her... My papa never forgave me that, maybe not even in his last moments...”

“I’m sorry,” Tsoy tilted his head down, giving the respects he could as he sat against the rails of the boat, “How were your parents?”

Looking up to the clouds, Graphite thought about his answer, making sure Tsoy would appreciate their memory just as Graphite has, “My papa was a hard working pony. He worked at the quarry first, then at the docks in Buckago. We were pretty close, then we kinda lost touch during the war. My mother just as hard working; she- uh- was a bit protective of me, since I was her only child. She was angry when I signed up for the marines, and she’d take that anger with her when she ‘left’...”

Afterwards they sat for a while, without a word. It was obvious neither of them were the talkative type. The cool breeze was still whistling between the rails of the boat, slowly rocking it with the soft waves of the lake. The wind flowed through the fog, not even nature able to deter this massive cloud. There was nothing that could be seen passed the mist, just a white wall of mystery - mystery of what lay beyond. Perhaps a toppled building come to greet the boat head-on, or simply another vast expansion of the lake to sit through.

Graphite turned from the fog above the boat, looking towards the stallion next to him, “Do you still remember Sunny as a foal?” He said as he broke the combined silence of two ponies.

“Yes,” Tsoy replied back, “I do. I was about seven when she arrived.”

“What was she like?”

“Sunny was around two years old when they brought her into the orphanage. She wasn’t very talkative the first few months, but in little time, she started becoming friends with all of the other orphans and eventually became one of the most lively fillies there.”

“You two seem close -- she does call you her brother -- how did that happen?”

“Well, when she arrived at the orphanage, there weren’t enough beds available for her to get her own - so, they made her share a bed with me. We shared the same bed for awhile, and Sunny seemed to be really thankful she let me do that. Soon, she started following me around; trying to get into my things, trying to play with the things I was playing with - that sort of thing. She really wanted to be my friend, and I guess after having someone like that follow you around all that time, you begin to grow on them too.”

Graphite chuckled a bit, then continued on with another thought, “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to her parents?”

“From what I’ve heard, they found her in some office building with a dead couple. I guess that they were her parents. They did light a candle for both of them on the wall and mourned them,” Tsoy sighed. Giving himself a moment of silence, or a moment to think, “Our tribe mourns everyone, even the raiders that attack our settlement.”

They both sat quiet for a while again, Graphite taking the time to straighten out his vest and white button-up shirt. Talking wasn’t easy for Graphite since Tsoy was someone new to him; he also resembled a zebra, which was a little unsettling for him.

Graphite moved his eyes away from the silent hulk, looking about his boat and examining all the details. He let the rust marks and scratches lead him to the helm, taking a moment to stare at the wheel of the ship and all the complicated gauges and readings that surrounded it. Something caught his eye, something he couldn’t see passed Tsoy’s massive body. There was a gun hitched to a metal holder that was just arm’s length away from the wheel.

The gun looked much like those which guards carried back at the settlement, yet it wasn’t the exact same gun. The gun was dark and matted, it seemed like it had undergone some modifications by its owner. The stock and hoofguard was a dark red stain, the receiver a dark painted steel. The handle was a bit thick, just about the right size for Tsoy’s hooves. The upper receiver was mainly rectangular, with the bolt sitting right at the top and the ejection port somewhere near the end of the receiver and start of the barrel. The barrel had a few notches running down the bore, Graphite not entirely sure why they were there. The magazine was straight and only capable for, maybe, thirty rounds.

Graphite couldn’t shake the memory of Blue Jay and his strikingly similar weapon of choice. As a matter of fact, every guard down in the settlement happen to carry around a sub-machine-gun like the one still hitched to its hinges. Graphite turned to Tsoy, who had his big head stuck in the fog, “Why do I see that gun all over the settlement, Tsoy?”

Tsoy brought his head down, looking down to the smaller stallion sitting to his left, “Hmm- oh. That gun is a symbol for our tribe, it’s a staple amongst the guards.”

“It must be a nice gun.”

“It does its job, but the reason we keep it around is because that’s what the ponies who came to help us carried. They used them to protect us from anyone who tried to harm us, so after a lot of them died, the rest of the ponies who were living with them learned how to use and maintain the weapons.”

“Who came to help you?” Graphite wondered, resting his hoof in his lap.

“Uhh, something of a thing called the ‘National Guard’. After the storm of balefire had passed, they came to help us. They were the ones who protected us when we couldn’t do it ourselves, but that was the reason why a lot of them died. As years went by, the remaining soldiers became a part of the settlement which they were protecting all this time, thus forming our tribe.”

“I wonder how they feel when they had to protect zebras.”

“What’s wrong with protecting zebras?” Tsoy turned his head, moving up from his crouch a bit - hovering over Graphite even further.

“Well, Tosy,” Graphite stopped Tsoy, “You see- back then- we considered zebras to be the ones who started the war. The news and posters depicted them as evil, nasty beings.”

“But look at all of the zebras back at the settlement, they’re nothing like that,” Tsoy said a bit more stern.

Graphite groaned, “I know, it’s just that- I’ve spent half my life seeing them as my enemies, so it’s hard to see them as my friends. I walk down the road pressed against Sunny because every time a zebra walks by me, I’m afraid he’s going to gut me.”

Graphite and Tsoy then sat in a quiet for a while. Another awkward moment of silence for the two of them while the boat continued to fill in the sounds as the passing waves slapped against the side of the hull.

“Are you afraid of me too?” Tsoy asked quietly.

“No, you’re- different,” Graphite rebutted.

Tsoy swiveled his head, “How so?”

Graphite looked over to him, his eyes catching the stripes going down his brown legs, “You don’t look like a zebra, Tsoy. Perhaps it’s just when I see those black and white stripes on a zebra, I remember those same colours being coated in red with soldiers’ blood.”

“Maybe you need to stop looking at them.”

“I’m sorry?” Graphite looked up to the giant stallion confused.

“You’re new in the settlement, and you don’t know anyone besides Sunny, and I - I’m sure. You just need to get to know the other ponies, and you’ll see they’re all nice ponies. You’re just stuck in the past. Times have changed, you should have noticed by now, Graphite.”

Tsoy lunged up from his seat, using the railing to help him up. He looked up, checking the fog cover, then looked back to Graphite, “Maybe you can try making friends with the zebras back at the settlement -- you can always try the bar.”

Tsoy gripped the wheel, starting up the boat once more, “The fog looks clearer, I think that we can start to move again.”

Graphite didn’t respond, he just wallowed what Tsoy just said in his mind. Sitting at the back of the boat, contemplating every word he heard. The words from Sunny came to mind over the words of Tsoy. He heard her speak of seeing a pony for how they are on the inside. Sunny was on his mind and wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. When someone can make you feel happy just by smiling your way, then their the someone you don’t want to forget. Her voice was in his mind as well; her stories and her lessons could be heard as if Sunny was right there telling them to Graphite. Her lesson about viewing ponies for how they are not how they look was always there over all her other advice and over all her tales. Graphite knew exactly why, he just never wanted to accept it. He could never make amends with zebras after they’ve attempted to kill him and after he’s successfully murdered hundreds of them. The fear was always going to be there, “But perhaps...” Graphite thought, “I could just hide that fear - they’ll never need to know...”

Graphite shifted his legs a bit to keep from cramping, looking to the fog above and all around. The fog had cleared just enough to see the dark water over the boat, but did nothing when trying to look out any farther. Only the skyscrapers could overcome the fog, their shear height towering over the sheet of clouds. There was one tower barely able to stand, teetering on dropping into the lake. Another one was just opposite of that skyscraper, standing tall and proud while it brandished its mile long crater along the side of the building. The last skyscraper that poked its head through the fog was the simplest to spot, the tallest one in Buckago.

The building was black, but hard to see amidst the grey of the fog. The silhouette of the building was like a beacon that cast its signal to the boat, telling them the island was close. Graphite watched as the building’s silhouette passed along the boat in the distance, staring them down as it watched over the rest of the city. It was either the chill of the fog or the chill of his fear but, Graphite could feel the cold glare of someone watching from the top of the building. He knew if a sniper was there, they would be dead already.

The half sunken building made Graphite feel odd on the inside. The large building was something that he could see every day from his home in Carnen, looking up to the sky was impossible to do without catching the tip of the tower blocking your view. The building was located in the heart of the city, surrounded by dozens of other buildings, yet here he was - sailing past it. He imagined half the city was now drowned underneath the shallow lake, its remains just waiting to scrape along the bottom of the boat.

The eerie silence of the lake was making Graphite nervous; a silence this loud could bring about any sort of awful being. In the waters was something other than the ruins of the city - maybe the bodies of those who were caught in the overflow or something from the ocean that had hobbled into the waters and became something more in the radiation. The waves would move in, then out, then in again - the gentle beat of the unnerving water. Graphite waited for the waves to go in and in again, knowing exactly when something would jump out the water.

He brought his head away from the lake, bringing his sight back to the focused captain steering the vessel. There was a quick thought, brought from the mass of Tsoy’s body - a thought of Stripe. The thought brought about Rossmore, and the gangsters who controlled the city through fear.

Luckily Carnen wasn’t buried by the water, though it had been buried in ashes that the balefire left. In Carnen was his old home, sitting peacefully in the forgotten town without a ceiling to protect itself. That home where his father rests in a disturbed peace; Graphite had relieved himself of the loss of his father, only worried a bandit would desecrate his corpse in search of supplies.

Graphite looked to his new home in Sunny’s apartment. He assumed it was somewhere behind him, off into the distance passed the fog and across the stretch of lake they’d already traveled. The section of lake they were traveling on looked exactly the same as the one they traveled on for the passed few hours. There was a small circle surrounding the boat - the only place where the lake was visible. This little area of lake rocked the boat like a crib as the hull was picked up over the waves and then dropped as the wave dipped back into the water.

Another quiet float over endless waves and the boat finally came across something in the cloud. The boat had found itself drifting between to large buildings. To the right was a circular extension from the city, a small area where a round building sat. Atop the rounded slope of the building was a stone dome. To his left was a bigger building, still sitting just by the lake as the last landmark. The section of building facing the water was wrapped around the first building, but only about half of that section’s perimeter. The side of the building was all glass window, any attempt to see inside was blocked by glare and the ever present fog.

They spent a long while traversing between the two buildings, Graphite noticing how well intact the two structures were. No gaping holes and no piles of rubble spilling out of the walls. The buildings seemed to have withstood the blasts and the harsh edge of time.

The building in the distance seemed familiar to Graphite, it had a waved roof, the only building with a roof of that kind in downtown Buckago was the aquarium. It seemed unsettling to Graphite to see the aquarium at this angle, sitting in the middle of a lake while staring into the side of the building. The realization the boat was sailing over the aquarium’s park was a disturbing thought, the same could be said for the building they were sailing away from. No matter how close to the old bay they were, there was still the sense that these waters were only a few metres away from being land - land that ponies would walk across daily.

How much the world changed in the fire of the war was baffling to Graphite. There was always going to be one aspect of life that would be different after the war, but nothing he would imagine as an entire country turned into a desolate wasteland choked with radiation and ponies killing one another for a bite of food.

Graphite was just about to drift off into a sleep, but was kept awake by the sound of Tsoy’s voice calling to him, “Graphite, get your things - we’re coming up on the pier.”

Graphite had all his things - he never left them. He stood up, stretching out the muscles he hadn’t moved since the start of the trip. He fixed the ache in his neck, coming up to the side of the boat as the island just began to fade through the fog.

Chapter 28: Personal Godess

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The boat was pulling around the old aquarium, heading towards the edge of the island. There was a single portion of pier stretching out from the island, the pier half underwater. Tsoy brought the boat to the side of the wooden pier, slowing the boat’s speed as the sections of dock started to poke out of water in an attempt to tear a hole in the hull.

The fog was still hanging over the island, the aquarium now just a dim shadow in the background as the rest of the island took the opportunity to appear under the clouds. Graphite was looking over the side of the boat, staring at what was suppose to be the city’s park. Now, the park looked more like a parking lot, every inch of foliage dead and burnt away to the point of leaving only dirt and a layer of grey ash over it. The trees were no different, burnt black and most of its branches blown away by the force of the bomb. The rest was shrouded by the fog; Graphite was almost thankful for the fog now - it being kind enough to hide away the rest of the depressing landscape.

The boat came to a slow stop, Tsoy turned away from the wheel to watch Graphite before he hopped out of the boat, “This is as far as I can get you with out being spotted, so you’ll have to hoof it from here.”

“Thanks for ride, Tsoy,” Graphite hailed with a nod.

“Wait-” Tsoy halted as Graphite was ready to jump out, “Here, take this - you’re a part of the family now,” Tsoy grabbed the sub machine gun which had been sitting by the steering wheel and tossed it to Graphite.

Graphite caught the gun before it fell into the water with his telekinesis spell. Taking a quick peek at it before looking back up at Tsoy.

Graphite barely made the jump to the pier, catching himself before he could slip off between the boat and the dock. He stepped unto the creaking boards of the pier, turning to Tsoy just before he moved on, “Thank you again, Tsoy.”

Tsoy grasped the wheels tight once more, “Keep yourself safe, Graphite,” He left off with before turning the boat around and floating off.

Graphite watched him go, watching him until he disappeared in the fog and only the gentle hum of the boat’s engines echoed across the beating waters. Graphite turned about, facing the start of the pier while stuffing his new weapon into his bag - making his way down to the island.

The boards on the dock creaked and squealed with every step Graphite made, causing him to watch his movements with great concern. He watched as the boards bent and shifted under his weight before he noticed his hooves touching solid ground only moments later. Graphite brought his head from the ground to find himself staring at the plain of dead grasses and ash covered street. Something told him to go north, seeing as he came in from the south end of the island. He looked out to the north, spotting something wavering in the fog. It looked like a phantom, or a ghost that was telling him to come near. Graphite followed, squinting and leaning his head in as he tried to make sense of what he was actually staring at.

He came up to the figure that was waving in the breeze, finding it was only a loose patch of tent that was caught in the city’s normal wind. He stepped around to the front of the tan coloured tent, spotting that the tent was one in a group of makeshift shelters that were lining the street down until the fog ate them up in its vast mists. Graphite poked his head in the first tent he found, spotting a few overturned and empty cots; a set of tables near the back of the tent; and assorted collections of trash and junk.

He stepped inside, sorting through the heaps of junk for anything of use. A few crushed cans, some crumpled paper, and a round to a gun he didn’t have. He filed through the trash until he reach the back of the tent; at which point, he turned over to the other end of the tent - where another figure was kneeling over itself, appearing to be sniffing at the ground. Graphite stepped over to it slowly, only noticing at second glance that its skin was dry and flaky, at the parts where it wasn’t missing.

Graphite wanted to shoot, but he remembered Ligature and realized it was a ghoul. She looked just like that, yet she was one of the nicest ponies which Graphite had met in his journey. He decided to head over to the lone figure; after all, he might be able to help the pony.

“Hello? Um, are you missing something?” Graphite said as he was approaching the lone figure.

The pony outside looked up and turned it’s head to Graphite, perking it’s ears up. The pony looked similar to Ligature, though there was something odd about it’s eyes. They were bleak, grey, and expressionless.

“Do you-” Graphite tried to talk to the mysterious pony again, but was interrupted by a loud hiss which it made. The pony suddenly turned to him and charged him, knocking him over.

Graphite hit the floor with the marauding pony on top of him as it tried to gnaw at his face. Graphite kept it at bay with the brunt of his arm, trying to push it off as it gnarled and slobbered all over Graphite. Graphite reared his head back, shutting his eyes to stop the saliva from seeping into his eyes while he used his magic to grab the first gun he could reach - his rifle around his shoulder.

Graphite rolled himself over, pinning the ghoul under him. The creature reached up and clawed at Graphite’s shirt, only tearing deep enough to cut the shirt and the skin. Graphite beat it back with the butt of the gun, getting it to stop rattling its head long enough to stuff the gun’s barrel in his head and fire off a round point-blank.

The thing was dead after its brains left through a hole in its head. Graphite stepped up from the ghoul, batting off bits of fur and skin. Graphite left the barren tent, stepping up to the road between the row of tents. Graphite was horrified to see more mysterious beings sprinting out of the fog, rushing at him with no direction and no stability. This bonus swarm of monsters was probably brought about by the loud bang Graphite’s rifle was prone to make.

Graphite brought his rifle up at the ready, preparing for the onslaught that was sure to come just as the first ghoul leaped towards him. All he needed was one good shot to the head, or a easy hit right through their heart - or perhaps, a spray of bullets into their entire body. Graphite slung his rifle back over his shoulder, listening for the clings of his backpack clamps opening and the sound of metal bumping against each other as he pulled out the shortened shotgun that he had taken off one of the mercenaries bodies.

The ghouls came closer, yelping and snarling their teeth as they tripped and crawled along the road to get to Graphite. Graphite waited for them patiently with his gun floating just to his right in his telekinesis. The gun was loaded, all he needed to do was unload the shells into the soft bodies of these evil beasts. The ghouls came close enough for Graphite to see the wrinkles of their skin clearly over the fog’s hazy shroud. He brought up his shotgun, standing with his hooves planted firmly on the ground as he let out the first wave of lead.

The brute closest to Graphite was blown back by the force of the pellets pounding his body. It hit the ground, making way for the rest of the group to merge in on Graphite. He pumped the shotgun, firing off the next burst into two ghouls that were just close enough together to both be hit by the pellets. The one ahead had it’s arm torn from it’s body, killing it shortly after it and its arm fell to the ground. The one behind was still coming, but was quickly shot down by the next shot.

One more coming against him, dragging with it a piece of tent that got caught around its leg. Graphite didn’t waste his energy to run after it, waiting again for it the ghoul to come to him. He pumped his shotgun; one more shell was sitting in the chamber - one more shell was all Graphite was going to need. The ghoul came in faster when it came into range of Graphite. It took a quick swipe that missed, losing his head after Graphite marked a quick blow with the last round.

The last body landed on the ground without even a twitch to show life. Graphite ejected the empty shell from the stubby shotgun before he shoved it back into his bag. Graphite took a look at the game he had brought down, noticing something odd about the ghouls’ appearance. They were wearing destroyed armour, most of it filled with holes even before they met Graphite’s shotgun. The ones wearing vests had their vests scraped with claw marks or simply had missing sections of their armour present. Graphite looked over the pile of bodies, examining the symbol that was pasted on every vest. He finally found one that wasn’t covered in blood; the symbol was yellow silhouette of Princess Celestia’s head on a blue background.

He recognized that symbol as the one of Buckago National Guard. Graphite stepped back a bit, taking a quick overview of the tents. There were no more ghouls coming his way, giving him more time to think. He figured this must be a National Guard’s outpost during the times after the balefire - right before the radiation started affecting the ponies. This poor squad of soldiers must have been stationed here after the blasts.

Graphite paid his respects the best he could - don’t search the bodies and move on. He walked around the pile of the dead guards, moving back to the tents to continue his scavenging. Each tent was as empty as the last, nothing but the garbage to sort through. After heading back and forth between the first four tents, he decided he would just follow the road and look through the tents from there.

The tents were nearing their end, Graphite was able to see down the road to where the tents finally stopped. Graphite was just about out of the city of tents; that’s when he took notice of the next row of tents down the road. Their fronts were covered, and the tarps were a thicker cloth and slightly darker tan. In the middle of each side of the tent was a symbol, three pink butterflies in a triangular group - the insignia for the Ministry of Peace.

These were the medical tents, and based on the number tents with the symbol, there should be at least one with supplies still stuffed inside it. He flipped the flaps of the entrance aside just as he reached the first tent, stepping inside of it. Inside the abandoned tent was what was normal to find inside a medical shelter after a war - skeletons resting on every cot the tent could fit. The skeletons were all laid out the same, either reaching for the nearest piece of medical supplies they thought would help them out of their misery; or simply lain straight, waiting to rot away.

Graphite was hardly use to seeing so many ponies dead; mostly when he knew they died slowly after all the nurses and doctors left them for dead or died themselves trying to get to them. Their burial was in the mausoleum of the tent, in the graveyard of the island, with the only visitors lying filled with shotgun pellets just outside the tent. Another moment of silence that he had been holding since Tsoy left, and Graphite was back to searching for supplies.

He went through the aisles, picking between the empty cases of syringes and loose bandages that couldn’t stay on the skeletons’ arms and legs. It was a long while until he finally found a lunch ration sitting in the corner he had already searched.

Graphite shook off the dirt and crumbs, taking a quick look inside to insure there was still food to be eaten inside the case. A pack of crackers and an apple bar was all that was left there. Stale or not, Graphite was going to have deal with. He slipped it into the free space in his backpack and was ready to move out of the tent.

Graphite reached the entrance and was about to head out, when one of the cots caught his eye. The cot was empty, unlike the others, with only a single holotape sitting in on the threaded fabric. He looked about the tent, hoping the owner would come by to retrieve it. He doubted that he or she would return for it, grabbing the holotape for himself.

Graphite sat himself on the old cot, getting comfortable as the legs of the bed started to squeak after finally being used in decades. Looking at the holotape in his levitation, and bringing out the Pip-Boy in his duster, he scanned the tape into the device - letting the audio play it through the tent.

The sound of panting came on, joined by the mumbled words of a worried young stallion.

“Okay, okay, this thing is working... um...

This is -- oh it doesn’t matter -- I’m here to say that every pony in this camp is dead. I don’t know what happened- I was at the park when a bright flash came from the center of the city and I blacked out- then I woke up here- and... I have poked around the camp and found some maps that say there’s another emergency centre near the Buckago Art Institute. If y- you’re hearing this, I suggest you head north and find that centre - that’s where I will be by the time you get there...

Uh, Good luc-”

The message cut off just as his last word was recorded. Graphite stopped the recording, dropping the tape somewhere on the ground near his hooves. He had one lead to go on, and that was the faint chance that other ponies had followed this stallion’s advice. If not, then maybe Graphite will be this young stallion’s first guest at the institute - arriving as a guest or as the grave digger.

Graphite jumped from the cot, making it out of the tent in a quick turn and a quick slide through the flap. He walked off into the fog, heading north again. This time, he kept his shotgun out, just in case something else was lurking in the fog. He knew that the fog was too thick for the rifle to be any use, so he loaded up the shotgun as the next best option. He kept to his sense of sight, his hearing impaired by the continuous drone of sounds that came from the fog - though his sight just as faulty as the fog continued to sit over the city.

There was the noise of the wind, something Graphite was all to well acquainted with. It passed over the dead grasses and the destroyed bark of trees, it swerved passed the toppled buildings and towering ruins, it slithered through the cracks of walls and streets. The wind was a experience as normal as breathing, the wind filled city of Buckago still held its character even when burnt to a sizzling ruin. The rest of the noises came from unknown sources - maybe another pack of ghouls growling in the distance, or maybe just some weak structure finally toppling down into the dirt. Graphite tried to not be distracted by the noises, keeping his eyes forward and his ears down to the sound of his trot.

Graphite was wondering the thick fog for a while. He stuck to what was left of the pre-war trails in the park. The trails were battered and bruised; after being walked on for years, they finally received the rest they deserved when all the passer-bys were wiped from the earth. He looked ahead, seeing nothing but the same white shade of fog he has been staring at for the passed mile he felt he had walked.

The fog was met with a shade, a silhouette in the distance. It was fuzzy, rough around the edges and very tall compared to Graphite.

Graphite kept walking forward along the trail. He finally came into a view of a base for that odd shape in the fog. He looked closely, still unable to find out what exactly the thing was protruding from the ground. What the object was attached was easy to recognize - the Trottingham Fountain, another landmark that still kept itself alive over the blasts.

Graphite had only been to the fountain a few times when he was younger, and could never realize how amazing the creation actually was. The fountain was made of three tiers of gradually smaller pools without water and completely made of etched stone. A series of pseudo vases were carved into the sides of the tiers. Running down the sides of the fountain were carvings of ponies galloping, rearing, and charging with their movements as over emphasized as the artist could create. Surrounding the fountain was another larger, waterless pool that was no deeper than knee height. In the empty pool were oxidized statues of ponies just like the carvings on the fountain. These statues were that pale green they happened when you set a statue out for years and years. This just showed the reliability of the fountain, and the amazing craftsmanship of the ponies from before the times before the war.

Graphite looked up to the fountains peak, looking to the grand pot that topped the fountain with a Gaelic rim and more carvings of ponies showing off their ability of kinetics. The pot at the top had an interesting ornament hanging from a branch of a splintered wood pole. Hanging by rough ropes was a pony, strapped by the back legs to the gallows.

The pony was starved, its ribs showing over the empty stomach. It was beaten, whipped, and scraped - its fur plucked in a few select places. It seemed to be a pegasus, it had wings, though they were also abused and almost plucked clean of feathers by something evil. What was even stranger was that it had a unicorn’s horn - though chipped along the side. The pony was an alicorn, a very tall one by the length the gallows support beam was and by the lanky legs that were swaying in the wind. It had a sapphire blue coat that was tainted by all sorts of stains and cuts. It’s mane and tail were a light blue, some tips of the tail cut unevenly and frayed. Graphite guessed some band of bandits were to blame for this poor pony’s fate. Perhaps they hung the pony here as some sigh telling the innocent ponies that might still be on the island to watch out for these bandits, using fear to keep these citizens out of the way.

Graphite wasn’t going to stay by the poor soul long, just being near the tortured body was stressing enough to cause any pony to break into tears. He sighed, turning his away with his eyes closed and heading down the same trail he was following before. He took no more than two steps when something whistled in the wind - a faint ‘Help.’

Graphite halted, the whisper startling. He whipped his head behind him, seeing nothing but the fountain and the pony still hanging from the gallows that were on it. Not a ghoul around, no ponies in sight, nothing but the fog and himself. Graphite turned back to the road slowly, keeping a light hoof on the road. He took another step, the same shrilling sound came out again, ‘Help...’

Graphite turned back again, looking to the only thing that could make the noise. He stared to the alicorn that was being displayed in the mist. It was surely dead, nothing that looked so incredibly broken could not survive long. He stared a bit longer, perhaps its ghost was haunting the fountain.

‘Help!’ Cried the same sound.

Graphite jittered a bit, seeing that the pony on the gallows was moving. It was trying to kick its way from the pole, struggling with its little strength to get free. Its flails were no more than a small twitch, but there was still a pony alive in that destroyed body. Graphite jumped the fence guarding the fountain from ponies attempting to do exactly what Graphite had just did.

He climbed the rounded stone tiers, attempting to climb the slippery carvings and chiseled sections of block. He got up the levels of fountain and reached the base of the gallows that were balancing on the peak of the fountain. He looked up to the alicorn in pain, the last of its breath being withered away by its faint calls of ‘Help, help, help.’

Graphite grabbed the knife from its sheath, bringing it to the ropes that hung the pony. He sliced through the rope with a few pulls and tugs against the grain of threads, catching the alicorn as it fell from its bonds. He caught with both arms, resting her down easy on the wooden boards beneath them both. It took in a gasp, holding it in as the air could finally reach its lungs easier. It let out a scream that could only be heard as a release of that air it had sucked in.

Graphite looked down the alicorn, wanting to hold it and keep it even if it was almost twice as big as himself. He looked to its face, seeing the soft features only a mare could have. He stopped to remember she was half dead, going for the one thing that could help her - the magical syrettes he always carried with him. Graphite reached for the case, opening it up quickly.

One left, the last of his needles that could be the difference of life and death for him - or the survival of this unlucky mare. He looked to the tip of the pointed needle, then down to the dying face of the mare. There were only a few more tiny moments before this alicorn would fall to the pain of her wounds. Only a one needle was needed to save her -- this belittled mare Graphite did not know. He stopped thinking, leaving himself to only reaction.

Graphite brought the syrette case back, bringing it to his duster once more. With a sigh, the case popped open - the needle in the grasp of his magic spell. The alicorn was barely breathing, only enough strength left in her to open her eyes. They could only open enough for her to see Graphite’s face. She had bright yellow eyes, ones that would make the sun envious. Graphite shut his eyes, repressing the tears as the syrette hit her chest.

It thumped against her body, her air being whisked away by the sharp pain. Her eyes shut closed again, Graphite pressing out the potion into her body. The potion was released into her body, but there was no change. The scars were still there and the bruises still visible right under the patchy fur. Graphite opened his eyes, dropped the dry needle down the tier of the fountain as he watched the potion course through a motionless body. Graphite fell back, easing himself away from the body.

He was late, the uncontrollable thoughts of his raging mind kept him from acting. Now the life he had tried to save was gone, and the last of his aid gone in the blunder of his care. Graphite’s crawl was ended by the pole on the gallows, to which he pressed his back against. All he could do was sit and stare at the strange being he encountered.

Graphite had seen alicorns before in the newspapers and in books -- even Princess Luna came to congratulate the recruits when they had finished their special operations training. They were the type of pony that were hard to come by. They seemed untouchable, something that even an army of steel rangers couldn’t take down. Yet there she was, an alicorn, lying dead just beneath his hooves.

He started to wonder where she had came from. It definitely wasn’t princess Celestia, yet there weren’t many alicorns before the war. Graphite was lucky enough to stumble upon one so easily; though, he would never get to meet with her. Graphite rubbed his eyes, sucking in the cold air before slowly getting up from the hard planks of wood. He looked down to the carcass of the alicorn, taking it all in before he set off north.

Graphite looked down the tier of the fountain, ready to hop down. One last look, being careful not to bump the body before he leaped. He looked to her body - patches of fur appearing where there was none. Graphite stepped back to the body, eyes wide and stuck to the places where wounds were present. They began to fade, bruises clearing away and scratches pulling together. The feathers of her wings stretched out, no longer bent and broken. Her face looked less flushed, blood flowing again and brightening the blue coat around her cheeks. There was a twitch in her hoof, then a deep breath through her nostrils. Her eyes came open as slowly as the sun rises, she was looking straight up at nothing. The potion was finally taking effect - just very slowly.

Graphite was without words; like a kick in the head, the alicorn came back to life in front of him. Without warning, a phrase come from his lips, “Are you okay?” He asked without him realizing.

The mare turned her head slightly, looking up at Graphite above her. She was a silent for a bit, still too weak to even respond. Graphite wanted to ask again, but he was just going to press his luck. He looked about the area, checking for any signs of dangers about. It seemed clear, so he prepared himself to carry him and the decrepit mare down the fountain’s levels. He spoke up again, “I’m going to get you down from here, okay?”

The mare still couldn’t respond, so Graphite helped himself with getting her down. He took the lead, jumping down the first tier before turning to the alicorn. He hoped he was going to able to carry the mare down, a pony that size was going to need all of his willpower. Graphite dug his hoof against the hard stone bed of the pool, focusing all of his energy to the alicorn. The magic of his telekinesis gathered around her body, slowly building to the point of lift. The pony was lifted from the gallows’ floor, gently floating over and down to Graphite’s side.

He set her down as softly as he could, releasing his breath of air he was holding while bringing the alicorn down. Graphite looked to the mare, insuring she was alright before hopping down the next level. A hoof stomp against the stone and a bite down on his lip, he moved the pony down again. He let out another side and continued on again. One more tier and just one more strain for him to work through. He got to the bottom, finding himself in the bottom of the fountain’s largest pool.

Graphite was out, or at least, just had to ease the alicorn over the fence. Graphite groaned, closing his eyes to try and bring back some energy into his body. He held his head up, looking to the fog above. The fog was clearing out, but still thick enough to block out the sky. The only indicator for the time of day was the bright sun with its rays beaming through the small gaps in the fog. The rays shifted and wavered between the fog and its ever flowing movement.

Graphite rested the dying alicorn against the fence he had hopped over. He was just out of strength to hold up the mare with magic, the last bit of his energy was quickly expended when he had to drag himself over the fence as well. Graphite looked to the mare, setting her as comfortably as he could get her. He rested a hoof on her stomach, feeling how dry and empty it was.

The alicorn, opened her mouth, trying to say something that wouldn’t come out. Graphite looked to her, leaning in to make sure he could hear any peep she could make no matter how small. A sound came out, the mare finally pushed out a sentence, “D- do you... have food?”

Graphite leaned back, “No, I d-” He looked to his bag, remembering that pack of rations he had found earlier, “-I mean yes- yes, I do.”

The alicorn lifted her hoof, resting it on Graphite’s vest. She blinked a slow blink, taking a breath to speak again, “C-can I-I... I...”

Graphite grasped her faint hoof, pulling it down from his chest, “Yes, yes, let me get it for you.”

He opened his bag, grabbing the ration pack before it fell it out of the almost overflowing pack. He popped it open, letting the top fall anywhere while he grabbed the first thing in the case. Graphite pulled out the apple bar, tearing away the wrapper and bringing it to the mare’s lips. He almost shoved the whole thing right down her gullet to fill her utterly empty stomach, but he stopped. This alicorn was starved close to death - feeding even the one apple bar to her could cause changes in her body that would, in all possibility, kill her.

Graphite took a short moment to think before he broke the bar in two, feeding the mare the one half. She could barely even chew, simply nibbling on the bit that was in her mouth. Graphite leaned in a bit, setting his hoof lightly on her fragile jaw and helping her to chew the apple bar. She finally swallowed after the bar had turned into an almost liquid consistency, traveling down her dry throat hard. The bit of food fell into her stomach, her cringes told Graphite that she needed some water to soften up her throat.

The canteen slid off of his belt, coming undone with Graphite’s magic. He swirled the container, listening to the water swish back and forth in the space. There was enough for them both - to both of their fortune. He tipped the flask over her lips, letting the water drizzle into her mouth. Graphite pulled the canteen back when he thought it was enough, letting her ease that sip down.

The mare swallowed, letting a damp gasp of air out after it had sunk into her stomach. Graphite waited for a response; a sign that she was feeling better. The alicorn lifted her head, only to say, “Thank you...”

Her voice flowed a little softer, less groggy and choked. Graphite grinned, covering up the canteen that was still in his spell. He let the alicorn breath for a moment, then asked her, “What happened, miss?”

The mare shook her head lightly, “I don’t know.”

Graphite answered back with a question, “You don’t?”

“I don’t remember anything at all,” The alicorn dropped her head, looking a bit upset that there was nothing to look back to in her mind.

“It’s okay,” Graphite consoled, “You’ve just lost your memory. I did once too.”

“How?” Her head tilted back up.

“A long time ago, I was frozen - anything before that I couldn’t remember; but, some things that I’ve seen and felt helped me regain my lost memories.”

Her head tilted the other direction, “You don’t seem too happy about it.”

Graphite sighed, “Not all of them were good, but they made me what I am now.”

The mare looked to him, licking her lips - Graphite reacting with the canteen just at her lips so she can drink. She took another sip, moving in with a question after swallowing, “Who are you?”

“I’m Graphite. What about you?”

“I am... uhh...”

“...It’s okay, you’ll remember it eventually. Um, maybe there’s something we can call you until you remember your real name. Perhaps your cutie mark can-” Graphite looked down to her haunch, finding it completely bare.

“Cutie mark?” She asked with confusion in her voice.

“Oh...” Graphite scratched his head, taking another moment to delve into his mind for answers, “It’s like a picture on your haunch; it’s suppose to show what special talent you might have.” Graphite paused another second, then came back, “How about, ‘Forget-Me-Not’?”

The alicorn was lost, her expression blank. She lapped her lips again, “What’s that?”

Graphite shifted legs he was kneeling on, continuing his conversation, “The Forget-me-not was a pretty blue flower that were almost everywhere before the war happened.”

“War?”

“Yes, um... Well, a while back, two groups of ponies were mad with each other. They started attacking one another, going into their countries and destroying everything. That’s what happened to this city, some of those ponies dropped big bombs on every city in Equestria, turning the place into... into this.”

“This..?” The mare Graphite decided to call Forget-Me-Not, was still just as lost as a school bound filly.

Graphite walked around her, taking the free space just to her right. He leaned against the hard metal fence just as Forget-Me-Not, he looked out to the city’s silhouette in the fog. They could see the towers that reigned in the centre of the city, overpowering all the other, smaller buildings. They stood tall with their imperfections; big holes and missing sides were just the examples of visible damage, there was still unknown amounts of erosion and rust inside the building’s skeleton. There were terrors hiding away in the abandoned rooms of buildings, monsters waiting for that moment when some poor pony just trying to find a way out stumbles across their territory.

“This...” Graphite uttered under his breath. He sat with his eyes stuck to the city the mare could not see. The long lines of broken roads were traveling in Graphite’s mind, roads the alicorn had not traveled - or did not remember every walking along. The sights, smells, and sounds of the city were screaming in Graphite’s head. Forget-Me-Not rested with only a blank figure in her thoughts.

This blank figure was like a square, a frame for a picture without a photo. The frame was surrounding everything she saw, covering anything she looked at like veil - a shadow that blacked out even the night. It was an uncomfortable feeling, nothing more. She was still breathing, any pain she used to feel was relieved after that odd prick hit her chest.

Forget-Me-Not turned to Graphite once more, her light voice stepping right into Graphite’s ears like a ball room dancer, “This... is this my home now?”

Graphite sighed, shaking his head, “I guess it is. I don’t have any idea where your real home is, Forget-Me-Not. I’m sorry you have to go through what I had to go through. It’s not fun waking up to a world like this without a single memory to look back to. No family, no home, no...”

“...Maybe I should just do what you have done.” Forget-Me-Not brought up suddenly.

“Oh, well, I don’t know. Your still recovering from your wounds, you need the rest.”

“And after I rest?” She squeaked.

Graphite turned his head away, looking at all the surrounding objects he could see for ideas. He bit his lip, “Um, then... then you can do what I did. You go where your nose leads you.”

“Where my nose...” Her voice faded with her commotion, her eyes crossing as she tried to stare at the tip of her nose.

Graphite chuckled, “Just go where you feel like it, Forget-Me-Not. Just make sure you find stuff to eat and drink when you get there.”

“Okay,” The mare peeped again.

“Okay,” Graphite repeated, smiling over how easily she understood the concept, “I guess I should go then - so you can get your rest. Just make sure, when you’re rested up, try to keep your head down - there’s a lot of bad ponies out there that could hurt you.”

Forget-Me-Not pulled her hooves a little closer, making herself warmer by hugging herself, “Well, what do if I those ponies try to hurt me?”

“You either run away, or you could try to hide.”

“Okay,” Was all she wanted to reply with.
Graphite pushed the half opened ration to Forget-Me-Not’s side, pushing it along the rough pavement, “Don’t eat this all at once.”

Graphite grabbed the fence and pulled himself from the ground, turning to the alicorn one last time before he finally went off, “Stay safe, Forget-Me-Not.”

The mare could only smile back. It was a weak beam, but a beam it was. There was nothing more Graphite needed to receive his thank you from her. Graphite had nothing more to give her, and no more words of advice to provide. He tightened the straps around his saddlebag, bringing his head to the direction of the fog and heading straight north.

He faded into the fog like the city joined the mist - seamless and quiet. He jumped into the shadowy drizzles of the clouds that sat on the ground, moving only where the road would allow. The art institute couldn’t be far, Graphite knew the building was right after the old fountain. He knew he would get there eventually, he just didn’t know if he’d be alive by the time he got there.

The fountain was far behind him, and the institute somewhere hiding in the fog ahead. Graphite could only see the ground beneath him and the hooves that were trotting down that crooked lane. There nothing around to see but white, floating through a blind space with nothing for him to do but think. Think of that strange mare still sitting by the fountain.

Chapter 29: The Last Gunfighter

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Graphite glided out of the fog like a stork - and with the grace of an ostrich. He covered his eyes as he exited the fog cloud, finding himself standing just another block to the Art Institute of Buckago. Between him and that building were another complex of tents that took up that unused block. Just as before, tattered and rugged cloth for the tents’ walls, and filled with tables and empty chairs. It was like going back in time; going through the same feelings, through the same sights, through the same smells, through the same garbage.

The bent tin cans and scraps of paper were a waste of time to try and rummage through, so Graphite kept to anything that was sitting on the tables that weren’t overturned. The tents here were a little more organized, less trash scattered through the aisles and most of the tables still sitting prepared for a meal.

A broken plate, a napkin, and a metal fork were sitting on the table eagerly waiting for food to be served on it. The plate was cold, the food hadn’t arrived and wasn’t going to anytime soon. Graphite passed through the tent, moving impatiently to the next empty shelter; and the next one; and the next one. Graphite left the food shelters and bunking tents with nothing but the chills from the cool air outside; his next stop were the medical tents, something of use should be in there.

Graphite ducked under the flaps of the tent, moving slowly in while preparing himself for whatever was to appear next. Like a copy of the tents before, more skeletons sleeping on cots. Some of the beds had broken legs, letting their napping guest fall to the floor in a pile of bones. The I.V. bags were sitting on rusted bars and on beds near their patients. They were all empty, dried out in time. Graphite started right down the lanes of beds, taking no time to find another metal square on an empty bed.

Another holotape, Graphite quickly snatching it up and taking a quick listen to the message it had to say.

“We’ll, I found some more gems for this recorder, so here it goes...

I’ve made it from the aid station in the south of the island to the other one just- uh- just north of it. Had to crawl through the dust storms, but I made it. I got to the near the camp and the ponies who were supposed to be helping me out shot at me because they thought that I was a looter. One round grazed my ear. I am also not feeling well - bunch of hair came out of my mane today. It might be the stress, though.

There’s not much left here. Almost every pony is dead or has left except for me and one other pony. I found a stallion lying on one of the beds in the medical tent - he’s the last one left. He can’t speak and doesn’t move much because he’s sick with- with something; but, it’s great that I’m not alone anymore. Maybe we’ll have a better chance to pull through.

The winds are starting to brew up. I’ll try to move us into the art institute itself before the storms throw over this tent. There’s not many supplies left here anyway. So, umm... if you’re hearing this - I am inside the institute itself, not the camp, the institute...”

It went off quickly, the holotape making an odd buzzing noise after the message had finished. Graphite thought a moment, dropping the tape on the bed again as the questions and answers came to his head. This was the same voice of the same stallion from the first message, a bit relieved since there was another pony with him - of which, was breathing over the message. Graphite had just another reason to keep heading north. Whether the message was recorded two hours ago or two decades ago, there was the faint hope that there was some pony in that building waiting for help. There was always that hope that Graphite needed to keep to make sure he would press on. If not for the ponies, he was going to do it for Sunny.

Graphite left the tent, hopping to the same road he traveled on since his arrival on this damned island. It was just a casual walk to the institute beyond the intersection, Graphite was almost ready to leave -- he could feel it. It was this feeling of relief, a burden was being lifted from him by a crane. It was slow, but it inched higher and higher with every step he took. He could almost smile, but the grim feel of the buildings bearing over him kept his happiness to a stupor.

Another few tents passed by, and Graphite found himself sitting at the corner of a three-way intersection. At the top of this crossroad was a large building. The front of the building was extended out from the main building, emphasizing the grand entrance. The first floor of the institute was as big as a mansion, stack two more on that and you had the rest of the building’s height. The doors were spinning doors, three of them lined in the middle of the entrance - one labeled for ‘member’s only.’ The make up of the building was fairly simple, a few arching blocks over the doorways; a border before the basic stone wall that was cut open for a long balcony and held up by four columns carved with images of ponies; another border with words inscribed on it that read, “The Art Institute of Buckago;” after that was the roof, triangular and bare. Graphite looked to the flagpoles over the doorways, all of the flags missing - one pole broken in half with its missing half resting on the stairs that lead up to the entrance.

Graphite had almost mistook this for the aquarium if hadn’t read the title on the building - the sound of water was breaking in the distance. It was hard to get used to half of the city being buried underwater, where the beach and the skyscrapers meet hoof and hoof.

Graphite soon turned away from the dreadful scene behind him to look at the happier picture ahead. He went up to the art institute and climbed the stairs, watching his steps carefully. He pushed through the door, spinning it around until he could slide through the gap and into the building.

Graphite walked into the great hall that awaited beyond the door. The hall room’s walls and floor were decorated in black and white marble panels, the ceiling had decorative murals of clouds and pegasi flying amongst them. The black and whites of the marble were engraved with golds and silvers rings and specks of glistening dust that reflected any light that hit it. The light in the room came from a single, circular hole in the ceiling that gave view to the second floor. It shined a single ray into the room, catching the golden marble and brightening the entire foyer. Graphite could see the art around the hole of the dome, the entirety of it stone carvings of ancient warriors and great legends among ponies. Going right down the ornate ceiling were columns that were encircling the room; they were black and white, topped with golden caps. The whole room matched perfectly, it all looked completely artistic - just to fit in with the purpose of this building.

He stepped into the middle of the round room, looking around him at the four pathways in the room. He looked at the floor under his feet, a six-pointed star was shining in the light. It was black, but it stood out as if it was shining in a cloudless night. Graphite felt an old feeling; though it was odd because it was a feeling he couldn’t remember having. Somehow, Graphite knew he had this feeling before, but it was a memory mixed in his thoughts then buried deep into his mind. His body recognized this feeling from a long time ago, way back outside the city of Buckago. His body was telling him to remember this feeling, remember it so you won’t let it happen again. Graphite turned a left towards the first path -- the one leading into the ‘Classic Art’ wing -- and suddenly, the memory hit him. It was cold, dark, and lonely - it was the exhibition.

The memory was strong now, no matter how deep down the thought was going to go, he would never forget it. Graphite was stuck in his spot, the pathways turning black in his eyes. The dark corners were coming back into view; the iron caskets and the four ponies that lived inside them were there still dead as dead could be. He was frozen in time, stuck in the memories from before he could remember.

As Graphite stood stiff as a statue in the middle of the room, a loud hiss came from his side. He was dragged out of his mind by this high pitched noise, only his body flinching to show that he had returned to reality. He immediately turned to see a ghoul with it’s jaws open and glaring at him with its soulless eyes. The sound the attacker made was horribly loud and the yellow saliva dripping from it’s mouth didn’t make it any more pleasant. Graphite reacted quickly, with a heavy punch to the face of the creature.

“Shut your mouth!” Graphite blared at the ghoul as it dropped unconscious on the cold marble floor, drops of muddy blood falling down with it. The hiss apparently had alerted other monsters in the near vicinity, as he could hear hard pressed steps of somethings running and echoing in the halls. Graphite grabbed his shotgun and ran straight for the classics wing, paying attention only to the direction of his hooves as he ran.

Graphite was right between a painting of the Equestrian landscape and a sculpture of a pony running gracefully. Graphite did just the opposite, running with his hooves stomping against the ground like a giant while the ghouls behind him bounded and rebounded towards him. They jumped into the entrance of the west wing, darting down the hallway towards Graphite.

Graphite was stopped right before the hallway turned right to the rest of the artwork, turning away from the wall of fancy paintings and carvings to face the onslaught coming this way. He turned around, just to see another ghoul coming his way. The pump pulled back and the chamber opened up - empty and puff of dust blowing out the port. He made a quick grab to the shells in his bag, pulling out only three lone, red shells.

There was one ghoul made Graphite hesitate - dropping the shells he tried to load into his gun. It wore a red sweater, adorned with a leather vest and a bandoleer on top that matched the gaudy vest. The ghoul looked more like a pony, even with it’s disfigured face like a broken bust and missing hair. Yet, it was there to kill Graphite, no matter his looks, because no sane pony would rush like that at someone who’s carrying a shotgun.

Graphite finally got his act together, wrapping up the fumbling performance of his load by sticking the shells in his weapon and pumping the handle forward. The ghoul bounded and bounded again, hopping into the air to tackle Graphite to the elegant marble floor. Graphite squeezed the steel trigger, blowing a hole through the ghoul’s chest. It continued its flight, Graphite dodging the loose body and letting the limp corpse hit the paintings on the wall behind him. The artwork nailed to the top of the wall - the one of etching of an abstract wagon in the night - fell down right on the body. The priceless painting was ruined, along with the blood stained marble floor and bullet ridden hallway.

Graphite dashed around the corner, letting the rest of the freaks file around the turn in the wing. He stopped just a few strides after the turn, sliding along the polished marble trying to halt the run. He leaned against the wall, stopping himself with his shoulder. His body turned about, facing the small group of monsters that were having just as hard a time to walk the floor as Graphite had.

One tumbled right over the dead ghoul, piling up in a frantic stack of wrinkled bodies. As the ghoul tried to get back up, two more were sprinting to Graphite. Graphite reared the shotgun around to face the same way down the hallway. The gun fired off a shot wildly, scattering across the wall Graphite was leaning against all over across the long hallway. The bullets whizzed through the air, the blast from the shotgun echoing around the narrow corridor; ringing in the ears of the ponies there and the bullets tearing through the limbs of the feral ponies in that hall.

As the ghoul wearing a blue collared shirt dropped down on the shiny floor, the next one caught the pellet that flew through the first ghoul with his eye. It didn’t die, only tripping horribly. This gave the opportunity for Graphite to book it again, the hallway taking a turn left halfway down and also taking another right at its end. He funneled passed all the art, no time to examine and appreciate the art around him.

Right passed the extra hallway in the middle and down to the second corner, Graphite ran and ran fast to the exit. He skid across the floor and zoomed down the corner, stopping inside a room larger than the foyer. It was covered in a red carpet, plush and clean. To the left of Graphite was a big and grand stairwell that split into two directions at the its peak. The railings were caressed in gold and marble rods. Just to his right were two desks, right around the entrance that was between the two counters. The counters were hard wood and sturdy, some crown moldings and golden borders to decorate and match the rest of the interior. There were two tables against the walls that were by the main staircase; on them, were a few vases that were probably as valuable as the building itself.

Graphite took a step forward to the middle of the room, but was reminded of his purpose in that rose coloured room - ghouls were chasing after him. He heard the screeching sound of the fiends’ growling and snarling from down the hallway behind him. Graphite took up position right near the stairs, ready to take the high ground if the need arose. He checked the chamber of his short shotgun, one shell for three ghouls.

Graphite just sighed an annoyed groan, biting down on his teeth and aiming the shotgun to the hallway. The first two of the pod of monsters barreled out of the corridor, hitting the walls and scratching their hooves across the floor. Their slobber splattered everywhere, ruining the perfect carpet and the great designs in the walls and decorations. Graphite blinked for just a moment. In that moment, the sound of a shattering vase broke in the wind. Shards hit the floor, a hissing shout of pain from one of the ghouls bellowed in Graphite’s ears. He fired his shot, his eyes opening up again.

The pellets had left the gun and ripped apart the room, breaking the last of the vases on the left side of the room. One ghoul was covered in sharp edges of porcelain and holes from the pellets, but only one. One more was still intent on killing Graphite, one more finally coming from the hallway after its fall. Graphite ditched the gun, throwing it to the floor while he flew up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

The feral beasts were coming up the stairs faster than Graphite could climb them, taking grabs at the cape that was lagging behind Graphite’s legs. He turned about quickly, giving the first one a quick kick to the face. His hoof breaking his jaw and loosening the jagged teeth that were hanging in its mouth. The lower jaw fell limp, flopping from his head by the two cracked joints. It continued to follow even if it had lost the ability to eat Graphite after killing him. The second ghoul joined up soon, taking to the stairs like a fish in water.

Graphite finished the first flight of the red stairs, taking a quick right around the rail and up the second set of stairs. He jumped up the last steps, Graphite landing on another floor of art and decor. The second story had a checkered floor with every other square a vivid gold. The floor was speckled in small particles of sparkling silver, no expense spared in creating a sense of emphasis on the entire building. It must have been hard to look at the art in the building when the bright gold would always blind the guests. Graphite looked away from the shining blocks along the ground, looking up the golden columns along the walls, and away from the illuminated spirals of gold and yellow to the ceiling. On the ceiling was something odd; sitting amidst the maroon squares, amongst the paintings of pegasi and unicorns and earth ponies frolicking around clouds and fields of flowers; and about the crown molding along the ceiling was a steel weapon. It was attached by a case that was bolted to the ceiling and connected by hinges and swivels; the weapon, a big machine gun with a belt of large rounds coming from the ceiling too. Below the barrel was a small round camera, the lens tinted a lovely red. Just parallel to that gun was another.

They were automated turrets, the city taking every precaution to protect its priceless valuables -- such as its late vases. Graphite leaned over the stairs, finding the creatures were still on his trail and easing their ways up the steep stairs. He twisted back around, facing the hallway between the two turrets. It was stripped bare, visible marks where dust has gathered around past picture frames. Graphite picked up speed across the lavish flooring, speeding through the hall way and into the next room over. He sprinted through the doorway, passing by the wide open door.

Graphite slowed himself to a stop, losing sight of his hooves in the dark room. One light kept the room from being taken up by the darkness and shadows - a wide window at the end of the room, but a curtain covered most of the pane. From what the outlines of the room could tell, there was a mattress to the right of the room along with a table across from it against the wall. There was the faintest of green lights coming from the table - specifically - a box shaped terminal on the table. Another roar from the ghastly ghouls called for Graphite, so he shuffled to the terminal and shut the door at the front of the room with his magic.

Something hit the door hard, the sound of a hard thud against the door came from the strike. Another bang when the second ghoul hit the door. There was a rampaging rapping at the door, limbs thrown at the door to try and break it down. On the receiving end of those bangs was Graphite, throwing himself to the terminal. The terminal had three options on screen, one of them reading out, ‘Activate Sentries’. He clicked that, which opened another screen reading, ‘Warning: Multiple unidentified subjects detected’. It was a simple click before the computer made an electronic beep.

A muffled clang hit the ceiling, a buzzing sound of gears churning around and around, over the sounds of the ghouls breaking through the door’s layers of paint and wood came metal grinding. The computer beeped again, blinking to a loading message - “Sentries activating...”

Graphite turned away from the screen to hear the turrets turning on with another blaring screech before opening fire on the ghouls at the door. Loud screams and hisses of dying came from the other side of the door - bullet holes flying in through the door. Like bees scattering after their hive has been knocked around, the rounds of loose ammunition ricocheted about the room and bounding across the walls and the table.

Graphite jumped back, hitting the ground near that mattress he saw earlier. He landed on the hard top, bouncing up a bit from the thick springs. Bullets flew though the doorway, hitting the windows to his right. Shards of glass blew out the windows and splashed across the floor, bits of fabric snowed across the room. The turrets finally stopped after showering the room with enough lead to outweigh a mountain. Graphite grabbed his chest, making sure he was still alive; he could hear himself panting, he was alive and more or less well.

The doorway fell from its hinges, more holes were cut in it than he could count. The hallway was red with all the blood the ghouls held in their body. The room was lit brightly now, Graphite could now see something in front of him. It was a painting - a mural - a graffiti painted right over another painting. There was a blue pony, only the shoulders-up were lain out. It was rushed, most areas still unpainted and giving view to the piece of art under it. Graphite lifted off from the mattress, making his way to the mural with his eyes stuck on one thing.

His eyes were stuck on the eyes of the mural, its eyes were covered with a bloody rag. There was nothing more to this erroneous masterpiece, just pony and cloth - and the real blood that was spread over the cloth. Graphite stood here, staring, the one artwork he could finally examine at the art institute. He could only imagine the tormented soul that painted this picture; the only ponies he could see being tortured to the point of psychotic drawing are the two ponies that had wandered here a time ago.

A bang grazed his ear, followed by a round blowing through the thick marble wall. Graphite could only react fast enough to duck away after the bullet had hit the wall. Graphite grabbed the table and shifted down, almost slamming the table with his chin. He dove back, behind the the side of the table away from the door - grabbing a weapon from his bag. It was the weapon Tsoy gave him, fully loaded and heavy with ammo.

At the front door was a pony, a pony standing tall on his legs which were spread wide and dug into the floor steadily. It was wearing a thick green coat, like a raincoat, with a big hood overshadowing its head. Its head looked wrinkled, but more than simply aged skin. It was shriveled and charred, similar to a ghoul - but it wasn’t a ghoul; it wasn’t snarling and drooling, it had clothes and even armour underneath the coat, it was also carrying a gun. The armour underneath the coat was Equestrian regulation with thick steel plates all around the body - Graphite’s old set of armour was this exact type. The colours were odd, not anything the military would approve of. It was full of vibrant colours that were swirled into patterns and designs - this was a type of art the zebras would approve of.

The gun was long, a sniper rifle no doubt. It was the generic set up for a gun from the zebra lands - narrow receiver with a bolt on the side and a part for the scope to be attached, a wooden grip with a few holes to vent the long barrel, a small pistol grip, and a fold-able stock on the end. The magazine was big, larger than the standard sniper magazine, this one looked to hold a larger calibre round.

It was obvious this pony was experienced in the culture of zebras; perhaps it was one, and all of the stripes were either burnt off or hiding behind the armour and coat. It was time to act, one moment longer and the sniper could easily score a shot with the rifle he carried. Graphite pointed his submachinegun to the door gap, letting a quick burst of rounds fire out wherever they saw fit.

They scattered across the frames of what was once a doorway, pummeling the already destroyed door jams and wooden frame. The attacker quickly dove away, jumping back away from the doorway and just out of view from Graphite’s angle. Graphite pushed himself up and away from the wall before he sprinted down the corridor.

The sniper was running full speed across the hallway, his coat flapping against his legs as he ran - and he ran fast. He never stopped to turn and head down the stairs, he simply jumped over the golden railing and landed just at the tip of the lower staircase. Graphite stopped himself before he hurdled over the rail, knowing he would fail the jump and land back first against the steps. He shifted right and continued down the stairs after his attempted killer.

He got to the bottom of the steep steps, another bang echoed through the empty building. A shot hit the rim of the rail near Graphite’s hoof - the only sensible reaction was to always jump away from the round. He was was upside down laying with his back on the steps just opposite of what he wanted. He looked up -- or down -- across the hall, standing in the foyer, was that zebra with his rifle up. Graphite lifted the gun and set it right-side-up firing to the foyer. It fired out and made the sniper flee away from the middle of the moonlit ray from the skylight.

Graphite flipped around, standing up once more and heading straight to the archway just before the main room. He took cover behind a half-column of marble and gold. He sighed, his mind easing out with the breath. This sniper was Xain. Graphite shuttered at the realization; he knew Xain was a hunter and was much more familiar with this building. Xain was also a sniper, hitting targets at ranges Graphite couldn’t see through a telescope. He grit his teeth and gave one more second to think. Graphite was inside, he had the advantage of close range. He was going to need it, this was his only advantage.

With gun ready, mind set, and plan developing as he went, Graphite turned the corner and continued the hunt for the hunter.

Chapter 30: Redemption Day

View Online

Graphite stormed into the foyer with his weapon prepped and ready. The room was just as empty as it was when he entered. He was standing with his ear to the ground and nose to the air. Any sign of Xain was witnessed only by the murals and paintings. The layout for this building couldn’t be too complicated - it was a public establishment, after all. The best thing to do was start searching now before the sniper could make his way to the other end of the large building. Following the direction of his hooves, Graphite trotted down the first path, one that lead to the “Modern Art.”

Graphite’s trot came down to a slow walk when his eyes were bombarded by a hallway of colours. The portraits were created using every colour a rainbow could make, the paintings were no more than random splatters of bright hues that would send a pony into a dizzying shock. Graphite waltzed away from the leaking paint shop and attempted to keep from seizure as he scooted to the next hallway.

Graphite turned away from the sea of blinding colour, making his way through a stubby hallway into a long room. The room had too big archways - the one Graphite was standing under and the one that was sitting on the opposite side of all the strange sculptures and carvings. Keeping with the building’s split pathways were two more arches on the sides of the room -- more weird and art inspired while under the influence. Graphite had his weapon up ever since he was near shot, but now he had let his guard down.

There wasn’t another soul in sight, all the ghouls would have been handled after the turrets had went off, and Xain was off somewhere in the art institute - perhaps in a separate wing or a separate building all together. It didn’t seem smart to leave the building now, the outside was much worse than this - even if the next row of ‘artwork’ was pictures of hooves and eyes painted by foals during arts and crafts.

Graphite stumbled by the statues, ignoring them all together. There seemed no sense in creating art that had no boundary, no direction, no understanding. The artist’s mindset was definitely shown in his artwork - every artist here was crazy. Perhaps Graphite didn’t understand it like the artist did, perhaps there was something to the chaos. There had to be some form of high understanding that these creations were set on display for everyone to see.

Graphite stopped with just a few more steps left to the exit out of this bizarre room. He didn’t expect himself to be distracted by these pieces of art, but one had to be seen. It was a statue of a pony raising its hooves to the sky. Over the statue was a spill of blue paint, and over the blue paint was a bandage to go around the pony’s eyes - a true window to the mind of the artist.

Xain had been down this way before, perhaps he had traveled it once more. Graphite turned to the archway leading out, heading there quickly. There was another corridor that had split into two directions, Graphite taking a right to make his way out of this hallway.

He passed another set of paintings; the usual landscape and portraits from various artists. Graphite trotted down through the archway waiting at the end of the hallway, ready to give his eyes rest from the vivid art. He came into another long and narrow room; a large carving took up the middle of the floor, it was displayed on a section of wall placed there just for the piece of art. Around the stone carving were paintings that were only good for bringing your attention away from them and to the carving in the middle. It depicted a pony fighting a beast with many heads, perhaps a quick carve made centuries ago. Though it was in the modern wing, perhaps a misplacement or another starving artist trying to throw out and odd piece in the collection of odd pieces.

Graphite continued, paying almost no mind to the main bit of artwork and moving on with his hunt. He reached the middle of the room before noticing something strange with the passage on the side. It was dark, only an orange light could light the room. The other hall seemed normal, but this one was definitely an original work. He stepped inside, no more than a single step was needed to see the skeleton that was displayed on the ground surrounded by the candles that were producing the orange light.

The candles were almost completely burned out, the last of the wax spilt on along the floor. They were sitting in tin cans that were cut in half and encircled the bones asymmetrically. The bones of the skeleton looked weak, eaten away by some awful disease or virus. It was lain out so the arms were resting just at the sides of the chest and the legs were out straight - like it was sleeping. It must have been, there was a cloth over its eyes that would keep light from its eyes as it rested. The cloth was bloody, rapped loosely around the skull.

This must have been the muse for the paintings that were patched across the institute. It was no longer a sky blue, now just a molded ivory. Graphite turned his head away from the remains, looking just beside to discover another holotape. It was sitting almost burnt by the heated wax of the candles. Graphite picked it up and listened to the recording.

“He- he’s dead. That blue pony was my companion for all of this time, and I didn’t even learn his name. It was nice to have him by my side, especially when I heard those monsters wondering nearby.

Those monsters, them and I, look kinda similar. Skin gone at places, only a few lines of hair left in their manes. Some of them have terrible burns and other injuries, but whenever I come near them they just hiss at me. It doesn’t seem like they can talk.

I can talk, though - I can - I’ve talked to my friend. I would always talk to him, he was the only one I could talk too in here. He was always there... now he’s not. He’s gone - he- he’s dead. That blue pony was my companion for all of this time... I’m alone.

No- no no no... I’ve said that already! Oh, but it’s true. He’s dead. I’ll make sure he gets the funeral he deserves. This would be the last time I record a message. I’m out of holotapes and there’s nothing more to say. He- he’s dead... Rest in peace.”

The message stopped, a plastic clack noise after the tape hit the ground and cut-off. This pony sounded like he was nearing insanity. His voice was choked and a little rough like a ghoul’s growl. Though there was this feeling that Graphite had heard the voice before. It had that same pitch as the pony from the first two messages, just scratched and the focus of his speech lost in his disturbed mind.

Graphite backed away from the mausoleum the room was made into, putting the holotape back just by the candles as it was. He stepped out of the archway, only to be meet by a gravely shout.

“Stay away from him!”

Graphite flinched, whipping his head to the booming noise of the yell. Standing just at the end of the room was Xain, standing with his eyes burning into Graphite’s soul and his rifle aimed right at Graphite.

He ducked, a bullet whizzing just by his ear again. Graphite took cover just under the archway he left, firing back with a blind fire of bullets. They gave him just the room he needed to avoid being shot, but nothing that could have ended the fight. Xain jumped back, landing on his back against the marble floor. He bent back forward, firing off his rifle against the corner of the arch and breaking it apart with every shot. One more bullet in the volley of four shots hit across the broken wall and zipped a tear in Graphite’s shirt.

He tripped back, barely keeping himself from falling. Graphite jolted out just as fast as the bullets he sprayed out left the weapon. Xain was in a fit to avoid the fire, squirming in every direction as he backed up further along the hallway. Graphite couldn't follow the path of the bullets as he made a bee-line for the back hallway.

He had made it through, just to be brought down by a quick shot across his cheek. The bullet shed the hairs from his cheek before blowing a clear hole in the portrait on the wall. Graphite wiped the blood from his cheek, scooting away from the entrance and making a quick getaway to the next room.

Graphite stopped just behind the next sculpture, catching his breath and also waiting for the moment Xain steps from the hallway. It was quiet, it was always quiet before the loudest noise possible destroyed the silence. There was just a nice, rhythmic step of dry hooves walking across the floor. Graphite leaned over the sculpture, only the tip of his eyes were peeking around the statue’s body. He leaned over, a sudden burst blasting the waist of the sculpture across Graphite’s body.

He was thrown against the floor with the bits of stone and dust that puffed from the shot. Graphite covered is eyes from the remaining rubble as it rained down, throwing off chunks from his chest as Xain ran to him. Graphite’s weapon was just out of arm’s reach, any attempt to grab it was meet with a quick shot near the gun. Graphite remembered his horn, and his levitation ability -- something forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The weapon was pulled back to him, another quick shot near the gun as it was pulled away. Xain was getting restless, his growling could be heard just at the arch as he brought his rifle up again. Rounds were fired back to back, disintegrating the remaining parts of the sculpture to fine powder. A line was cut across the statue, the top half falling right towards Graphite. He stopped with the levitation he had just remembered he had, tossing the large slab of stone towards Xain.

Graphite got up as gracefully as a rabbit running from a fox, scratching his legs along the slick floor in a scurried attempt to get up. He found his balance and ran straight to the other end of the room, leaving Xain to deal with the sliced statue. He turned the corner in the next hallway which lead him straight to where he had began - in the foyer of the art institute.

Graphite stopped in the middle of the room and turned back to the path he came from, backing away slowly with his loaded gun to the head of the hallway. He back-stepped nervously until his hoof hit a step that lead up to the next wing. He looked down, making sure it wasn’t Xain sneaking from behind. His head snapped back when he found it was nothing, spotting no hungry hunter ahead of him.

His surroundings were already clear in his mind, with the exit just to his right and the main lobby just to the left. Heading outside would be going out into the sniper’s playground, keeping inside was Graphite’s best hope of staying alive long enough to get his shot in on Xain. Graphite tilted left and went back to the lobby, taking another stop just at the base of the red carpeted stairs. He ran up the staircase, getting to the top that was still being guarded by the mechanized turrets. They looked empty, no belt of ammo was being feed to the chambers -- all of the ammunition must have been used to destroy the ghouls and the door just at the end of the short hallway.

The dark room served no purpose, but perhaps these two doorways at the sides would provide more use. Graphite followed out through the left one, only to be detoured by a wall to another set of stairs. He hurdled the stairs easily, turning another wall at the top and out the exit of the staircase. Graphite stepped into a less decorated section of the art institution. The marble floor was no longer made of gold and silver lined around dark red slabs that checkered the floor. It was a simple red coloured floor, with black and gray imperfections spotting and dotting it everywhere. The columns were now just smooth cut stone, the ceiling was also a barren set of stone blocks - up until the edge of the walkway where the ceiling was exposed to the second floor. The railings surrounding the large gap in the middle of the room were also simple iron rails with an iron grip of the same design going across the bars.

Around the area were too many doors to see without a wide angled view, leading to countless maintenance rooms and fire escapes. Across the room were two more corners for two more sets of stairs just like the ones Graphite had ran up. He trotted forward, resting his hooves on the railing and peering over the rails to look to the ground below. There was a sharp bang, followed second by a loud ping and the sound of concrete being chipped away. His leg was hit by a very sharp pain.

Graphite lurched over, his left hind leg festering with a horrible burning sensation. His leg bent and he fell down slowly while trying to stay right-side-up by gripping the rail with whatever feeling he had in his hooves. The rail creaked, metal bending to Graphite’s fall. His grip slipped, swinging him to the column stacked at the corner of the walkway. He fumbled with his arms to grab the round sides of the column, attempting to pull himself just behind it close enough to avoid another dastardly shot.

Graphite looked down to his legs, his left leg was leaking red like a broken pipe. He reared his head back, searing and groaning over the sight of blood and bone and the unsightly sensation that was tormenting his leg. There was a growl, Xain snapping at Graphite once more. Graphite leaned left, hoping the column would cover him better if he laid closer to the ground. His bag snagged a chip in the block, clinging and zipping open while Graphite fell to the ground again. He looked to the ticking noise behind him, his bag was fleeting from his body and spared no mind to its belongings. Out fell a magazine for his rifle and a roll of white bandages. Graphite grabbed for the bandages faster than his mind could tell him to go for them, unraveling the long set of straps and wrapping it across his torn leg. The blood soaked into the bandage quickly, painting it with crimson paint as each layer of wrap went around the wound. The bandages couldn’t tighten any more, and there was just enough to hold off the spout of blood.

Graphite looked around the column, his nemesis was still waiting impatiently for him to show even a sliver of a hair. The zebra jolted, swinging his rifle to Graphite and firing a quick round to his head. The bullet impacted the column, spraying out dust and chips of stone across Graphite’s face. Graphite’s head was pushed from the column, his hooves thrown up to his face as the grains of broken stone slapped his face.

He squirmed back, wiping away the hard dust as his levitation spell sought for his gun. The gun was sucked into the magic spell, Graphite’s mind telling him he had a grip of it. He needed a grip on the wall to bring himself back on the three hooves that still worked, there was no surviving a fight when your enemy could stand right over you. He brought his gun above his head with stone particles still sitting and burning in his eyes. Eyes watering, Graphite fired his weapon to the blunt figure he figured was Xain and obtaining only the moment to push himself to his hooves.

The ground felt askew, the sights of the drywall spanning across the catwalks were drizzled in white speckles of burning dust, the world was shaking - vibrating - giving its all to bring Graphite back down. Graphite refused to be knocked down again, pushing passed the burning pain in his leg and the reaction to wipe his eyes clean with his unsteady hooves. He tried to raise his hoof to his eyes, but his legs wobbled and his body shifted towards the floor. Graphite flung his hoof back to the ground and tried the other hoof, with no difference in results. He clung back near his column, turning right to one of the other hallways in the area. The rifle banged again, brazening through the hall and pushing Graphite to the floor.

A bullet crossed through the back of Graphite’s vest, tearing through the fabric before merging with the wall. Graphite crawled into the hallway, pressing himself to the hard, stone wall before he finally picked the dust from his eyes. Xain grabbed the metal rails, Graphite could hear this when every bar surrounding the gap shook and resonated with Xain’s angry grip. Xain shouted to the empty catwalks, screaming for Graphite’s attention, “Come out!”

Graphite pressed his head to the wall, breathing in and breathing out a troubled shout back, “It doesn’t have to end like this!”

“For you?” Xain hollered in his rough and scratchy voice.

“One- one of us won’t be leaving here alive and you know it!”

The zebra slammed the rails, booming out again like a giant drum, “And I will be the one leaving here! Not you! Me!”

“Just stop, Xain! You’ve done enough, Xain, and I will not leave here until you fucking stop!”

A bullet hit the wall again; it would have never reached Graphite, but it showed him the rage and impatience building in Xain. Xain rattled the rails, “Come out!”

“No!” Graphite roared back. Graphite was boiling with a festering feeling, it wasn’t anger but it was heated Graphite just as hot as Xain. It was something like annoyance; the exponent of a near death battle, lung busting screaming, and a leg that was losing blood faster than the bandages could soak it up. Graphite hit the wall that was saving his life, yelling to Xain once more, “Just stop, Xain! This can’t go on forever! I-if you leave now, you might have a chanc-”

“-A chance?”

“A chance, Xain! You can get out of this place, you can get out and find something to live for! There’s no reason for you to be here!”

“There is! I have to stay here! I cannot leave!” Xain’s voice cracked, he could almost be considered on the verge of crying if his tears hadn’t dried up years ago.

“Why not?”

“I do not want to leave! I cannot leave! I have to stay here...” His voiced droned on until it faded with the echoes.

Graphite sighed heavily, groaning afterwords. There was no way he could talk a stallion out of insanity, so he needed to end this now. He looked out to the columns he was hiding behind, his gun was nowhere insight. The submachinegun was laying broken apart three stories down, dropped in Graphite’s haste to move out of the Sniper’s sights.

“Do you want to spend the rest of your days in this place - together with the monsters? Or would you rather die like the rest of them?” Graphite asked as he tried to distract Xain long enough for him to find a weapon.

The hallway was quiet, the walkway was silent, the resonance of the vibrating rails had dissipated with the rest of the noises. Graphite could hear muttering, something to fill the void of silence. Xain was thinking aloud; about what was the mystery to Graphite. This muttering was nothing new to Graphite, the ghouls would sometimes chant incoherently to themselves when there was no food to snarl at. There was a brain under the burnt skin that continued to turn, telling their host that there was something else. Something else that told them how they were feeling, the thing they have just found, where they’re going and where they’ve been. The brain was still working -- he was still alive, so it must be doing something in his head. It was working just as well as Graphite’s, both parties distracted by the thoughts that flooded through their minds. Graphite was pulled back to reality at the simple sight of an object coming from his bag - a pistol that didn’t belong.

It had a long barrel for a pistol, an oddly round handle and a magazine chamber like a miniature rifle. There was some odd symbols marked into, just above the grip, that Graphite couldn’t read. He’d seen the zebras use the gun back in the war, though this one was polished and even painted with a custom mark. As he peered over the corner of the hall, Graphite could see Xain still talking to himself. The odd pistol came around the corner with Graphite, pointed to Xain’s thickly covered body.

He hesitated to pull the trigger, he had never used or seen this gun before - doubting it would even fire. Graphite peeked away from the gun and back to the mumbling zebra, noting the direction of his head. It was forward, one eye covered by a reflective scope. The trigger couldn’t be pulled faster. A low boom pounded the walls, followed by a second and a third and a forth. Graphite had closed his eyes before firing, retreating away from a sudden shot from a sniper behind his wall. He brought the gun back to him, letting the already smoking barrel cool down.

Xain wailed back into his normal state, screaming maniacally in a terrified fashion. Graphite whipped his head back around the corner, a bright flame made the room glow. It was orange, like a candle burning away on a wax whisk. The smokey smell of burning cloth filled the dense air, a panicking pony was flailing with arms high, voices high, and jacket thrown high off his body. The overcoat was being consumed in a fire, his gun had been misplaced somewhere on the ground to the left, Xain was stomping and jumping to put the fire out.

Graphite acted, splitting from the dark hall with the special pistol towed behind him in a telekinetic spell. Xain rolled across the floor, tearing away his second layer of worn wears. Staged like a performance, the burning zebra danced with a flurry no pony has seen before. With the performance came the decorations; bullet holes glowing with a glowing red ring around the divot.

The room was feeling the deadly heat of the incendiary rounds the pistol had been filled with, Graphite wielding this instrument of hell like a house-hold tool. He had planned to use it generously, Xain so kind as to accept the generosity of Graphite’s cold hoof.

The burning ghoul could see Graphite over the flames that were eating at his rotted flesh, backing away using the thrusts of his back and the grip his hooves could drag across the floor. Graphite stomping hooves would rumble the floor in Xain’s eyes, his thousand-yard stare burning into his disturbed soul. Graphite’s black duster was like the cloak of death, come to take him from the world.

Graphite stood just above the cooking body of Xain. Graphite was fighting his brain to stay up, the blood draining out drained his strength and beat his will. The gun could barely stay afloat in his magic spell, his eyes were fading in and out of blackness. He came reached the fleeting Xain as he was stopped at the door to the supplies. A hoof dropped down to his chest, fizzling out the bit of flame that was burning there.

Graphite stared into the crazed eyes of the sniper. His pupil was broken in one eye, shrunken down to almost disappearing and split like someone had cut it apart. His eyes were lit by the last of the flames from the charring overcoat. He could see fear of dying and fright from the burns that were so close to killing him. It was more habitual than any ghoul could create - a true feeling. Graphite stopped resisting and stopped hesitating.

Graphite pulled the trigger, squeezing it just hard enough to make the gun go bang. He held it long enough just to let the last sixteen bullets spew out the burning spout. Like a volcano, the heated bullets burned through the everything it touched - all the threads in the cloth, all the layers of skin, all the groups of bone. It cast Xain down with a force that mutilated his skull. The fire rose again to cast the monstrosity away from the land once and for all.

Graphite stepped away from the body to let it burn into ash, wobbling as the blood loss came back to haunt him. His vision faded and blurred, his stance low to keep from falling where he stood. The way out was down two flights of stairs and a trek though the foyer. There was no last peek and not even a moment of silence for the late Xain, Graphite turned to the staircase down and told himself, “Time to go home...”

With his bleeding leg dragging along the marble floor and the left of his wavering strength, he trudged down the stairs and through the hallway to the other set of stairs. He tumbled down the precarious steps, a fall that could break his crown if he had fallen the wrong way. Using only his forelegs and what he could make of a spell to lift him up, he got up - now ready to fight his way down the last set of stairs. Graphite found himself at the bottom of the stairs before he knew he had taken a breath. He was fading fast, the pain in his leg numbing out to his delight and despair.

The foyer meet him as he meet the doorway to it; he stepped to the tier of three small steps that lead into the bowl of the room, scared to take the steps down. He was weak, shakier than a leaf, his ability to walk was beginning to drop. He could feel his chest drop, drop like it was being pulled to the ground by a force much stronger than him. He was pulled down the stairs by this force, his body jerked by chains to the floor.

Graphite had his face dug into the twinkling marble floors, his head too heavy to lift away. His legs were sinking into the earth, his arms pulled into foundations, his chest dragged underground. Moving was like tearing a tree from the ground by its roots, dragging and clawing at the ground to find the grip to move forward. He never stopped fading in and out of conciseness, seeing he was steps ahead of himself before he realized he was still dragging himself to the exit.

Graphite was walking blind, his vision blacking out. He looked to the exit, the doorways coming ajar as a light shined through them. With the sun fallen to the ground and shining all of its light through the doorways, a darker cast came from the doors. It stood taller than any pony could, standing over even pegasi in flight. Like a pegasi, it had a pair of wings spanning the length of the foyer’s hallway. At the tip of its head was a horn, a unicorn’s horn. The figure stopped just as it reached the main room, looking down to the hazy Graphite.

In the remaining thoughts that Graphite could understand, he assured himself this was Celestia, coming from lands unheard of to whisk Graphite’s dying soul away. She was here to wrap him in her tail for his final rest. The light blinded Graphite, casting away all the dark shadows that were drenching his sight. The mare came close, Graphite’s mind going completely blank - as if he had been unfrozen all over again.

There was no thoughts, not even a spark of a memory of a word spoken by himself. He could remember nothing, he could not retrace back to anything - no information, no lessons, nothing to tell him where he was or who he is. There wasn’t any feeling of the things his hooves were touching, nothing around to see. He was trapped in a void of nothingness; without emotions, without a touch or feeling of any kind, no thoughts, no conscience.

Graphite slowly opened his eyes, only to see part of a cracked ceiling above him. He felt numb, he couldn’t feel the rest of his body, but he managed to turn his head just enough to see a white curtain to his right. Graphite could hear some other ponies coughing somewhere beyond the white partition. He tried to move his hoof to move the curtain away, but he couldn’t feel it - let alone move it. He felt like he had fallen from the top of a mountain, then suddenly stopped and carried back to the top. It was like coming back to life from death. His head was sore, the thoughts he knew so well were returning to him.

After laying around a bit on what seemed to be a small cot, a shadow approached the curtain and pushed the curtain aside. The blaring light beyond the shadow made it hard to see, but this shade that had come to see him was a pony in a what looked like a stained lab coat. Graphite backed away from the light before the beating rays could burn his eyes.

The pony stood just high enough to look down on Graphite. It didn’t have the horn as before, and was no taller than Graphite himself. She turned back, pushing the lamp away for Graphite to see who this pony was. It was a lime green mare with two wings on her back and that dirty lab coat Graphite could see clearly. It was Dr. Feelgood, turning back from the lamp and back to Graphite.

“Can you hear me, Graphite?” The doctor asked, talking slowly and loudly just to make sure Graphite wasn’t deaf.

It was muffled, but the hearing was still there. Graphite opened his mouth to speak, only to find that even his tongue had went numb. He nodded his head, letting out a timid, ‘Ah-huh.’

The mare smirked, letting out a sigh. It sounded like a sigh of relief, but Graphite wasn’t quite sure. Feelgood spoke up again, “Graphite, you’re going to be a little numb, but we’re just glad you’re still alive. You lost a lot of blood back there...”

A galloping noise of hooves came running across the floor, another pony and another voice to join the conversation, “Is he alright?” The mare sounding voice questioned in a self-contained panic.

Graphite peered over his chest at the pony. It was a mare with a delicate orange coat and eyes that shinned with her fur. Sunny was half-way to a heart attack until she noticed that Graphite was awake and moving. She ran to his side, nudging the doctor aside as she grasped his body in a gleeful hug. Tears of joy beaded down her rosy cheeks and a smile that could make any beast turn was spread across her face.

“We’re so happy you made it, Graphite!” Sunny shouted with a undying happiness.

Graphite regaining a feeling, a warming feeling that tingled across his body -- as well as an aching feeling that cramped his muscles. Sunny squeezed him tight and never let go, the doctor having to break the hug up so she could get a word in and continue her examinations.

She pried Sunny’s arms from Graphite, guiding her to step back from her patient, “Excuse me, Sunny,” The doctor shooed, “I’ll give you two time to talk when I’ve finished.”

The doctor stepped over to Graphite’s leg, pointing to the leg wrapped up in bandages, “I’ve replaced your bandages, since the ones you had on previously were a bit overused. I also took the liberty to give you a - perhaps excessive - amount of Med-X to ease the pain. The numbness will go away eventually, and you’ll feel light-headed every now and again, but that leg isn’t going to heal completely. At the least, you’ll have a limp; but at least you can walk, right?” Dr. Feelgood scoffed, before stepping back from Graphite, grabbing the edge of the white curtains just as she was ready to leave, “I need to get to the other patients, I’ll let you two be for now.”

She pulled the curtains shut, letting the two ponies to themselves. Sunny came back to Graphite’s side, leaning over the cot and giving her lover a kiss on the forehead, “We’ve missed you, Graphite,” She whispered to Graphite.

“Wha- what happened, Sunny? I don’t remember a thing...” Graphite asked disorientated.

“Feelgood told me that you took a bullet to your calf. It was an indirect hit; if it wasn’t, then it might have taken your whole leg off,” Sunny shook her head at the thought of a limb being torn from the body, quickly knocking it from her mind as she returned back to holding Graphite close.

“Oh, that’s... good. B- how’d I get here, I wouldn’t suppose you-”

“-Oh, no,” Sunny denied, “I was in the settlement the entire time since you left.”

Graphite was puzzled, looking in whatever direction his stiff neck would let him turn. He returned back to Sunny, looking through his dim eyes, “Then, how’d I get b-back?”

Sunny moved a loose strand of hair from her eye, answering his question in her best whisper, “Well, Tsoy had carried you here from the boat. I don’t think I heard him correctly, but he told me an ‘alicorn’ had carried you to his boat -- I blame the island’s air, making him see things... But, all that matters is you’re back home.”

“Yeah...” Graphite mumbled, his head fading in and out of a sharp ache.

“There’s this other thing that I wanted to tell you - before you left - but it slipped my mind.”

“Wh- what is it?”

Petting his mane, Sunny whispered again, “Well, do you remember that abandoned boutique, Graphite? That one where-”

“-I do...”

“Yes. Well, since then, I’ve been feeling a bit strange,” She told him quietly, twiddling a bit at his mane.

“H-how so?” Graphite wondered, the light-headedness coming around and beating his head as the conversation moved.

“I’ve been having an upset stomach, and I’ve been sore all over -mostly around my joints,” She reached back to her legs, rubbing around her knee to illustrate the feeling to Graphite who could barely see.

Graphite let his head fall back to the cot, still struggling to speak up to Sunny, “What are you... trying to say?”

“Graphite,” She grinned, the smile almost taking up the remainder of her head, “We might have a foal.”

Graphite felt another feeling in him, his heart pounding against his chest. He smiled, unable to do anything else to show his emotion. His head was fleeting from this feeling, becoming more painful and only suppressed by the blissful feeling he was having. The warm feeling was coming back up, burning now with a passion. It brought a fuzzy feeling around his gut and more relief to that headache.

Sunny beamed with Graphite, clutching his limp hoof tight in hers. They sat in an embrace, enjoying the moment and doing their best to keep the quiet muse of the patients coughing out of their heads. Graphite drifted into a sleep, joined by his mare who was napping right on his warm chest. The light passed as his eyes shut and the world went to black.

Epilouge

View Online

Seven Years Later

Graphite leaned forward from his comfy chair in which he was resting and extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray that was on the table in front of him. The ashtray was next to a large console with a battery of buttons and one large button that was glowing bright red near the middle. The button was a signal that the set of holotapes that were previously playing had ended and it was time for someone to replace them. Graphite pressed the red button and reached towards the microphone that was sitting conveniently on the desk next to the console and adjacent to a sound board.

He pulled the microphone to the edge of the table, clearing just throat just before pressing the button to turn it on, “Good evening, listeners. That was ‘The War is Over Now’ by the lovely Sweetie Belle. Running up the next play-list will be the ‘Blue’-”

Graphite was cut short by a knock at the door leading to the broadcasting room. Graphite’s head swiveled towards the door, moving away from the microphone to keep from interceding on the station, “One moment,” he affirmed.

“Sorry about that, it appears I’m needed places. That means an early end to the show, but that doesn’t mean the music will end. Coming up is a upbeat tune from the Ol’ Blue Eyes - ‘Witchcraft’

Graphite set the tape for the songs into the console, pressing the play button and letting the music play across the land to as far as the broadcast tower could send it.

The door swung open slowly, poking her head through the door was a young filly. Her head came in first, her big and round blue eyes shining like lights through the doorway. Her curly locks were loose and bouncy, something easy to care for after rolling around and playing outside in the wastes. Her mane and tail was a low tone of tangerine, something to blend along with her darker orange coat. She pushed the door aside with all the strength in her little hooves, coming in with a little grin on her face. She came up to Graphite as he sat in his chair, perking her head up to speak, “Daddy,” the filly squeaked, “Do you remember what day it is?”

“Of course - it’s today,” Graphite scoffed before clearing his throat again.

The foal groaned, stamping her little hoof on the ground, letting more high pitched squeaks out as she talked, “No, Silly! It’s your birthday!”

Graphite smiled, responding, “Yes, yes, I know.”

“Well, mommy wants to see you back downstairs.”

Graphite just nodded, leaving off with a simple, “I’ll be down in a minute, Topaz.”

The filly went back to the door, closing it behind just as she darted out and down the staircase waiting outside the door. Making sure all was fine with the equipment before he could leave.

Graphite pushed himself from the chair, using both the edge of the table and the wobbly armrest of the seat to pick himself up. He got on all fours, his hind leg biting at him when his hooves were firmly planted on the ground. He winced, but only just - the pain something he was very well used too.

Graphite reached the door, shutting it just after knocking the lights out. The door shut and Graphite stood just at the top of the stairs, preparing himself for a fight against his arch-nemesis - the stairs. The stairs spiraled downward with the stairwell like an abyss. Graphite sighed, going through an inevitable journey that he didn’t like but would have to take. His wounded leg was stiff and always getting harder to move. Any movement with his leg would cause the joints to burn and the muscles to pierce at him. Going down stairs was very difficult with the pain either passing by as just another ache in his knee or a blast of searing pain that couldn’t be avoided. Graphite took to the stairs as slowly as a single pony could walk, planning each step out ahead of time.

Graphite finally made it to the bottom, taking a quick breather to congratulate himself on a task well done. The door to the apartment was just ahead of him. He twisted the handle and pushed the door open, opening the door to the small bit of foyer the room had in it. He stepped through the hallway, passing by some antique drawers with knick-knacks spread across the top and a hat stand that was to his left. Crossing over the red rug beneath him, he stepped calmly into the main room.

The vertical stripes of the blue wallpaper surrounded the room; trapping around it the living room, dining room, and kitchen all into one confined space. On the peach coloured couch was Topaz, bouncing around excitedly until she stopped after noticing Graphite walking through the doorway. She hopped off the couch, running up to Graphite at high speed, “Daddy! Finally you’re here!” She blared with glee, gripping her arms around his big hoof as she pulled him to the dinner table.

Waiting on the other end of the wooden table was Sunny, sitting with anticipation for Graphite to arrive. She had her same smile that she took with her everywhere, sitting at the head of the table with a wrapped box by her hoof. Graphite inched up to the table with his daughter still latched to his hoof. As the family joined together in the room, Sunny stepped up from her chair to give Graphite a hardy hug followed by a quick peck on the cheek. Graphite could only smile, captured by the emotion and the exhaustion.

Sunny and Topaz both helped Graphite to a seat at the table, scooting the box up close for Graphite to open. He looked to the rectangular box that was wrapped with a yellow paper, tied with a simple white string. Graphite stopped to think, something age would never take away from him. He thought of his seventh birthday, knowing he was much older than seven. He never figured how old he was, or how old he had become. He could recall his childhood and the birthdays from that time, but his age was lost with his long sleep. Graphite could only keep track of the time from when he was born again; refreshed to a new world. So, Graphite was seven years old from his second birth, young at heart but old in his body.

“Open it, daddy!” The over-eager Topaz pressed.

“Alright, alright,” Graphite eased back.

Using his magic, he untied the modest bow and opened the quaint present. The top moved away to show a uniform. It was a navy blue and made out of a soft cotton. Graphite pulled the folded coat from the box, unfolding it for all to see. Along the chest were a few decorations; a name tag on the left with ‘Graphite’ stenciled into it perfectly, a few fancy ribbons to commemorate Graphite’s accomplishments, and small silver badge with rifles crossed to go on the collar. The lapel was placed symmetrically on the gold coloured collar, which stood tall on the neck. Chevrons were sewn into the shoulders, designating Graphite as a corporal. He rolled the suit up, setting it gently back in the box.

“How do you like it, Graphite?” Sunny asked with a bit of nervousness in her mind but only a smile to show.

Graphite turned to her, unable to find words to say. He was shocked, amazed at the wonder of his present. He mumbled out a ‘Wow’ as the only thing to show for his feelings followed by a simple question, “Where did you find this?”

Sunny grinned wider, relieved to know Graphite seemed to enjoy his gift, “Tsoy found it when he was on a trading trip near Hoofington. It was pretty roughed up when he brought it back, so I gave it to Pneumo. He fixed it, even added a tag with your name and those corporal insignias on the shoulders. ”

“Yeah, I was starting to think that there’s no way it was my uniform he found,” Graphite chuckled.

“Well, consider it a present from Tsoy, Pneumo, and me.”

“Thank you, Sunny,” Graphite pulled the mare closer and kissed her on the cheek, “I’ll be sure to thank your brothers when I meet them later.”

Topaz reared up, leaning over Graphite with eyes wide as ever, “Are you going to try it on, daddy?”

“Yes, give me a moment,” Graphite grinned, pushing Topaz away as softly as he could.

Graphite grabbed the rolled coat from the box, groaning and moaning while his hooves gripped the table and the back of the chair as he tried to stand. Sunny rushed over, pulling him up with both her hooves to pull the stallion up from the chair. He guided her away, assuring Sunny he didn’t need the help.

Graphite slipped his arms through the sleeves, pulled the two ends of the jacket together, and buttoned it up tight. He folded the collar down to a comfortable crease, adjusted the lapel hanging from the fold, propped the ribbons to look straight and made sure the dust was clear from the tag. The suit fit perfect and sat well on his body, he looked ready for a march and had a smile to tag along.

Sunny came up to Sunny, reaching for his suit to further adjust it. It seemed perfect, she just needed to make sure it was better than perfect.

“It looks fantastic on you, Graphite - maybe you can wear it while we head out?” Sunny promoted, pulling down the ends of the jacket to get it on Graphite just so.

“Where are we going?” Graphite inquired.

“Oh, I placed an order on some sweet rolls for your birthday.”

Topaz ran up to her mother, now leaning over her leg as she shouted to her, “Sweet rolls?” She exclaimed with wonder.

Unsurprised to the filly’s innocence and rambunctious eagerness, Sunny pushed Topaz aside with the same leg the foal was leaning on. She turned back to her daughter, smiling at her as usual, “Yes, sweet rolls. They’re very sweet and come served nice and hot!”

Topaz was practically drooling on the floor after the simple description, ready to go and get these incredible sweet rolls. She dashed for the door, her mother stopping her again before she ran off on her own. Graphite joined her by the door, Sunny leaving the room to grab a dress from the other room. The two stood anxiously waiting for Sunny, both grinning for their own reasons. Graphite looked down to his left, Topaz was bouncing like a ball. She was ready to bounce out the house, only held back by her parents orders. Graphite looked to his child, seeing how much she has grown in the span of six years. He could look back on all the things they had done together, all the things he has taught her personally, and all the moments that were worth remembering - but, all he could think about now was the way her hair bobbed as she jumped up and down. It was cute, nothing more, her large head almost as big as her little filly body. The orange in her hair could never catch the light well enough to look admirable, but it was cute enough to fit Topaz’ needs.

Sunny walked into the room with her yellow dress on, her stature astute and her smile glowing brighter than ever. The room was aglow with the bounding joy of Topaz, the never ending cheer Sunny brought with her, and the breeze of Graphite’s unwavering calmness. Graphite wouldn’t say a peep, keeping all his words to himself. He thought better than he could hold a conversation, his mind on the idea of Sunny. She had been with him through thick and thin, the two coming out of Rossmore free ponies and leading a small adventure through the wasteland taking over Buckago. She’s been there to bring a beaming grin to any pony that she meets, Graphite to suffer from long term effects of happiness. She’d saved his life at least twice, helped him through nightmares and flashbacks of war and terror, and gave reason to keep on living.

Graphite smiled at Sunny, content with the small family he has built. He spoke up after his silence, “Are we ready?” He asked aloud.

“Yes! Let’s go!” Topaz answered without so much as skipping a beat, running through the foyer and stopping right at the door heading out the apartment.

Sunny nodded her head, “I am.”

They all reached the door, Graphite opening it first and letting the mare and filly go ahead. They were already heading down the stairwell of the apartment, Graphite following them out. The door shut, the stallion left the building with his thoughts far behind him and his family near to him.

Fallout Equestria: Stallion in Black

by White Deer

Chapter 1: Stallion in Black

Chapter 2: Home of the Blues

Chapter 3: Oh What a Dream

Chapter 4: So Doggone Lonesome

Chapter 5: Next in Line

Chapter 6: Children Go Where I Send Thee

Chapter 7: The Beast in Me

Chapter 8: Lady

Chapter 9: Ain't No Grave

Chapter 10: Everybody Loves a Nut

Chapter 11: I got Stripes

Chapter 12: The Wind Changes

Chapter 13: Don't Take Your Guns to Town

Chapter 14: Hurt

Chapter 15: Like a Soldier

Chapter 16: Old Time Feeling

Chapter 17: You Dreamer You

Chapter 18: One Piece at a Time

Chapter 19: Come in Stranger

Chapter 20: No Need to Worry

Chapter 21: A Thing Called Love

Chapter 22: You Are My Sunshine

Chapter 23: All Over Again

Chapter 24: The Big Battle

Chapter 25: Help Me

Chapter 26: Don't Think Twice

Chapter 27: I Would Like to See You Again

Chapter 28: Personal Godess

Chapter 29: The Last Gunfighter

Chapter 30: Redemption Day

Epilouge