Luna stood stoically on the invisible floor, surrounded by a pitch-black void. Then her will began to manifest in her dream. She formed small, floating islands of rock. The void turned into the night sky, extending all around her, and filled with moving stars that flew around mindlessly, as if they weren't objects, but little children playing. The moon shone bright, to give an omnipresent nightlight to the dream-scape.

A pillar broke out and stood on each island, with a little glowing light at the tip. She took note that since she was performing the spell during the day, there were far fewer islands to deal with than at night. It mattered little to her, since time spent in the dream-scape was negligible. All it meant was that she would have fewer nightmares to vanquish. Not all of them were bad, necessarily. Some were primal fears, like the fear of darkness or the unknown. Others were learned, like a chilling scary story. Some, on occasion, were something created entirely for the occasion of having a nightmare. The latest was rare, but not unknown to her.

She spread her wings out, and burst forth, hopping to one of the islands. She landed, and sent the island in a slow spin, defying any idea of gravity. She concentrated on the pillar's light, and began to look into the dream. She felt around it, deciphering what the fear was, and began to connect herself to it. She pushed the boundary, and with the ease of breathing, she shifted into the dreamer's world.

Her own perception was scraped, and the world she so quickly created vanished. In its place was an open plain, as dark as the night. Small buildings were lit up far in the distance, but they were miles away. Clouds covered the land, making the grass around her look almost as black as the void. A single torch stood, stabbed into the ground. It gave light to about ten feet around it.

Next to her was a lunar guard; one of her own. The armor was typical, with its mix of dark colors. Her stand was aggressive, with her spear held out towards the darkness. She waved it around like it was a security blanket.

From her centuries of experience, Luna could tell that there was no underlying psychological damage to have caused the nightmare. There was no guilt in the pony's mind, but there was a memory. It was small, but it was connected nonetheless. The fear, though, was taught. The best way she new to combat taught fears...

...was to show there was nothing to fear at all.

“Hello, young one.” She called, getting the mare's attention.

The pony whipped around, and looked into the eyes of Luna. Then she bowed low, forgetting the 'danger' behind her. “Your majesty!” She exclaimed.

Luna smiled brightly. “Rise, my little pony.” She did. “Tell me: What is it that you fear?”

“Wh- wh- what?” The mare asked, being reminded of the darkness. She began to turn her head to look again, but was stopped by Luna's hoof gently brushing her face.

“There is no need to look. I simply need to know.” She lied. She already knew what the fear was. There was three fears in that dream. What she wanted was for the pony to admit her fears. Knowing one's fears is the first step to conquering them, and Luna was going to help with just that.

“D- d- d- darkness-s-s-s, your majes-s-sty.” The mare whimpered.

Really? A lunar guard that's scared of the dark? Luna looked around, and realized that it wasn't just the darkness, but a total void of all light that surrounded them. Not a single detail was able to be made out. Maybe it is not darkness she fears, but blindness.

Luna charged her horn in the imaginary world, and shot a bright light far up. It ascended further and further, until it peaked and hung in the air, like another star. Then, its brightness exploded, creating a new moon in the dead sky. The light descended on the massive plains around them, bringing sight to what it held within. The dark grass became visible, but instead of animals or sentient beings appearing, dark creatures of shadow took aggressive stances.

Slowly, the creatures morphed from shadowy quadrupeds into a more sleek, carapace look. Holes filled the legs, and tattered wings took place on their backs. Instead of the four fangs of the actual being, a much larger number of jagged, long, and patternless teeth filled their mouths. Black eyes filled the sockets, with white outlining the border. Each of them growled a feral growl. Even with the changes that the bodies took from reality to the dream world, Luna could tell exactly what they were meant to be; Changelings.

“You must defeat them, young one.” Luna said.

“I have to what?!” The mare said, beginning to freak out.

“You must defeat them!” She repeated. “Do not fear them, but instead, make them fear you!”

Luna knew that if the situation was the same in the waking world, she would not have ordered such a thing unless truly necessary. But in the dream world, the memory was the only consequence, and the memory was far better than being controlled by fear.

The feral changelings began to stumble towards the pony, almost like they were being taken over by some unknown disease. The mare was fearful, but she listened to Luna's order. She took her spear and impaled a nearby changeling. The body burst into black mist, erasing all evidence of it ever being there.

Luna watched the pony fight off more and more. With each successful strike, the confidence of the mare grew, bending the nightmare in her favor. The changelings began to run away, only reducing the fear that the mare felt. Soon enough, she was down to the last of the abominable creatures. Luna felt, however, the anxiety of the mare kick up again. Even though the other changelings had either disappeared or ran away, the last one was just standing angrily. Luna followed the eyes of the mare, and realized it was not the bug she was staring at in fear, it was just behind it.

Instantly, a cloak of shadow whisked away. A gruesome crack sounded out across the landscape as a pale claw ripped through the chest of the changeling. The appendage gripped a glowing green heart from the poor creature, and slowly began to lift the whole body with nary an effort. The bug gave out and burst into mist, but the sinister figure that killed it stood high. It was about six feet tall, taller than Luna by a small amount, and wore mostly black clothing. The figure extended its arm, offering the heart to the mare.

It stood on its hind legs without effort. It bolted over to the pony -faster than anything possibly could without the aid of magic. It stopped just in front of the mare, eye level, and smiled with its long, sharp teeth held on its pale, flat, fur-less face. It stuck out a snake-like tongue through the teeth, and licked the glowing blood from the heart, making sure to take in the taste while staring into the eyes of the pony.

It leaned the heart to the mare, and offered it as food. Luna would have told her so many things, but like the mare, she was frozen, albeit for a different reason. She knew what the nightmare was, but it looked familiar in a different way. It was more similar to how Celestia had described humans. It almost had a touch of sentience, instead of the almost feral though intelligent animals that humans had devolved into throughout myths and legends. It looked uncanny, just what it looked like. Like she had met it before. In fact, it almost looked like...

...Kestral...

Then Luna heard the whimpering, and her head snapped to the mare again. “Don't be afraid!” She called. “He cannot hurt you! Show him you are not afraid!”

The mare, however, was nearly frozen, with the horrifying visualization of the monster trying to rub the blood all over her face as some kind of special marking.

Luna used her magic to launch tendrils at the limbs of the human, pulling it down towards the ground, and causing it to drop the heart. Then the mare snapped back into her training, and pointed her spear at the human. With a loud yell, she charged, and stabbed the being right in the chest. She watched as the human dissolved into mist from the wound out, stating curses and fowl language of all kinds. The pony, meanwhile, was panting, but with a smile on her face.

“Yeah!” She exclaimed, having defeated her nightmares.

Luna gave a soft smile. She walked to the mare's side and saw the beaming smile on her face.

“Thank you, Luna!” The mare surprised Luna with a quick hug and a nuzzling. It was over before she could return it, however, so Luna just continued to smile.

“It is nothing, my little pony. You have a good day's rest.”

With her job done, she eased her magic until she cut herself from the mare's dream. The landscape snapped back into her own floating islands. With nothing more than a determined thrust of her wings, Luna launched towards another island. The previous one turned to dust, and then into nothing as she distanced from it, leaving one less island in view.

She felt both angered and confused. Angry, because she had found out about a human terrorizing Ponyville less than a day prior in the waking world. Her anger wasn't aimed at Kestral entirely, but he was the center of it. Granted, she didn't know if he was the human there, but humans are just that rare. She couldn't expect two of them to crop up at once.

Her confusion often took off just after her anger, though. When they had spoken, he seemed to not like how the ponies feared his kind. He seemed sincere, open-minded, and far kinder than that day's morning newspaper would have let on. How could such a being really be responsible for the slaughter that was taking place under her nose? How could he dislike the prejudice he receives, and then turn around and do far worse to changelings?

Luna didn't know what the answers were, but she knew darn well where she could get them.

Kestral stood on ashen rock, which was cut flat. As he leaned over the edge of the unremarkable ground, he saw that there was seemingly nothing holding it up. All around his was the night sky, which extended towards the vast emptiness of what used to be a whole world.

“Hello Kestral.” Luna said.

He whipped around, and saw her standing tell, just a few feet behind him. Her mane almost camouflaged into the starry background, bit it seemed to be just a bit brighter; just enough to see the border between the two.

“Luna.” He nodded his head some as a sign of respect. He looked around the place, trying to figure out what was happening. “I don't think this is a nightmare. So, why are you here?” He asked.

“Well.” She started. “You were asleep, and you didn't seem to mind me asking about you last time. So I came to ask some more questions.”

“Ah. I can do that. What would you like to know?” He asked calmly.

She made sure to look him in the eyes. “I would like to know how your stay has been since your arrival into our land.” She didn't look away, but instead, made full eye contact.

“It's...” Does she know what happened? “...it's been.” He said.

“ 'It's been'? Pray tell, what doth th... what do you mean?” She asked.

Kestral turned to look at the stars instead. He heard the hoofsteps hit the 'ground' until she was at his side. “Complicated, to say the least.” He said.

“You mean mass-thieving, changeling-murdering, home-vandalizing, and all-around-law-breaking complicated?” She asked.

Fuck.

He slowly turned his head to meet her obviously frustrated gaze. “I can explain.” He said, with the straightest face he could possibly muster.

Luna's gaze did not waver. Instead, she seemed to scrutinize him even more. “Go right ahead. I'm listening.”

“Well.” He started. I hope she doesn't kill me in my sleep or something. “You see; The changelings were trying to kill ponies.” He said, deciding to just make the reasoning blunt.

Her previously furrowed brow became half-raised. “On what proof did you make this accusation?”

“At first, I was told by a wizard that these guys were using their powers to steal DNA from ponies -which slowly kills the ponies- and use it to bypass security and get to their targets.” Luna's eyebrow only skyrocketed from there, but he continued. “And then, I found one of their plans. They were going to kill 'The Bearers' or something like that. Some dip-shit theory on that being the only real threat to them.”

Kestral watched as Luna's face became a whole assortment of emotions. “W- what?!”

“Yeah.” He said. “Then they were going to kill civilians to make it look like they just happened to be caught in a bad 'incident'.”

Luna calmed down, though. She knew very well that he could have been lying. Although, she wasn't quite sure what was worse; If they really were out to start their own slaughter, or if Kestral was a psychopath capable and willing to just kill off a species. Either would be very bad for everyone involved, but Luna needed to figure out which was the truth in order to prevent disaster.

“Why could you have not just captured them, though?” She asked, with much tension in her voice. “Tie them up, leave a note to guards or something! There is no reason for further bloodshed! Let them have their trials! This isn't a war!”

“Who's to say this isn't a war?” Kestral asked calmly; or at least from his point of view. “Enemy soldiers are threatening innocent lives, and I’m stopping them. All that's really different is that we're all playing in shadows.”

“If it is, then this isn't your war, it is ours.” She stated sharply. “If you wish to partake, you will do it through our legal system. Otherwise, stay out.”

“And what about finding them, hmm? Last I checked, the whole reason I’m here is because you guys can't even find them.”

“Then we shall change tactics.” She said. “But that begs me to ask; Just how are you able to find them, anyway? I remember being told that human's don't have magic.”

“I don't, but the wizard that hired me does.” He lied. “And before you ask, I’m not giving his name.”

Luna had somehow gotten back her poker face, possibly contemplating her next line of questioning, but before she started, Kestral took control of the conversation, at least for a short time.

“Listen. I know this might not be how you guys do this, but I have good reason. These changelings have no mercy nor care for your ponies. Why should you have any for them?” He tried to ask in a sincere manner, mostly because he really was sincere.

Luna huffed. “Because mercy and forgiveness are the only things that keep ponies from turning into monsters.”

Ouch. That kinda' hurts, actually. Kestral sighed, and looked out to the infinite distances in the sky. But I’m already here. This is my fight, now, whether anyone likes it or not. I guess I just need to be careful. He who fights monsters...

He turned to Luna, who had been rather quiet during his little mental escape, and asked. “You're good with dream magic, right?”

She cocked her head. “How is that relevant?”

He waved it off. “I'll take that as a 'yes'. Can you recreate memories in the dream world?”

“I...can.” She looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

He stood silent for a moment before he spoke. “I want you to trust me. I really do. Talking to someone that isn't either trying to kill me, arrest me, or order me around feels good. It's not something I get to do very often these days.” He scratched his head. “But I still stand where I did on the matter of the changelings. So, I want to show you why I am this way.”

Luna didn't know what to think. He was just offering to let her see one of his innermost memories! She knew the possibilities. It could be gruesome, or sinister, or something far worse...but it might explain some things. It had a chance to be concrete evidence on what kind of person he was. It could confirm or deny if he really was trying to make things better, even with the damage he does.

“Very well.” Her horn began to light up, giving an ominous misty glow. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He replied.

“Just think on the memory you wish to show, and I’ll see it.

“Alright.” He said. Kestral concentrated on this nightmare of a memory. Back to six months before he was pulled to Equestria. Back to when he was still a functioning member of society. Back when he could still talk to his friends, or enjoy life with them. Back with his father...

Back where it all began.

Kestral pushed the door in, releasing the voices of fifty or so people into the world. He closed the bar door behind him and looked for his friends in the crowd. He spotted the three of them huddled together at the bar, so he quickly made his way there. As he took his seat next to Phil, they greeted each other with a mutually aggressive handshake.

“What's up, Kes?!”

“Not much, my man!” He replied, making sure to keep over the loud talk in the whole building.

Phil was Kestral's best friend. They had first met in elementary school, when Charlie had been calling Phil all sorts of vicious names. Even back then, Phil was big, bigger than most kids his age. Unfortunately, his dark skin had earned him a bad rap with Charlie the instant they saw each other, in spite of the fact that Phil could beat him up any day of the week. Phil was a gentle giant, though. He stood there, taking in all the name-calling, not even saying one harsh word back.

Kestral, back then, had a short temper. When Charlie wasn't expecting anything, he swung around with his fist and landed Charlie on the ground with a bloodied nose. He normally didn't fight, but it was a knee-jerk reaction at how much of a jerk Charlie was being. When he asked Phil why he didn't defend himself, Phil said that it was just words; that they didn't hurt.

Soon enough, Kestral figured out that Phil wasn't just big and strong, he was smart too. He quickly began to show up most of the other students with his straight A's. Kestral sometimes thought his classes were hard, but whenever Phil explained it, it sounded simple.

“So what took ya so long, Kessy?!” called out the next man over, who was known only as 'Red'. His tanned skin went well with his plaid shirt and jeans. He had a thicker accent than the rest of the group, where Phil's was the most neutral of the four.

“A car without a tag was sitting out in the back! Didn't know whose it was, so we got it towed!”

“Ha!” He laughed. “How could that take so long? Can't you just tell them what it looks like and leave?”

“Yeah, but sometimes they screw it up! They've taken my damn Volkswagen twice now!” Kestral shook his head. “What about you guys? Anything interesting happen today?”

“Chick tried to rob my station again.” Phil said.

“Again?” Asked Steve, the fourth member of the group. His leather jacket and tough emotional wall let everyone know what he wasn't someone to be screwed with. “What happened this time?”

“She slipped on the mopped floor when she ran. I think she got a concussion.”

“Ha!” Red hit the bar top. “That's s'm funny shit right there!”

Kestral couldn't help but laugh. Anyone could walk in and wonder just what the hell the four of them actually had in common. To anyone but them, they were the start of a bad joke; A biker, a redneck, a gas station owner and a hotel manager all walk into a bar... But Kestral couldn't care less. They were the best friends he had ever made, one way or another.

The bartender walked up, sporting a rather revealing top, although the long, straight hair helped cover it some. “Hey Kes.” She said, as she handed him a menu.

“Hi Sarah.” He promptly handed it back to her. “The usual, please.” He watched as she just shook her head and walked back to tell the order to the cooks. After that, she just began making his drink.

He thought she was beautiful, sure. He even had a crush on her in highschool. But he knew that she had her eye on Steve for quite a while. He didn't want to come between them, not that he had that crush anymore. Of course, if she and Steve did have a relationship, it would be rather strained by the fact that he was wanting to join the air force. His obsession with motorcycles had somehow gotten him interested in airships, so he made up his mind to join someday.

Sarah brought him his soda and a shot of vodka. He mixed the two rather well, and held up the glass. His friends followed, ready for the one line they always shared together.

“To the nights we'll never remember.” They clanked their glasses together.

“With the friends we'll never forget.”

Kestral got out of his car, and made sure to lock it. Sure, it was only eight-thirty, but it still seemed rather dark in the early spring. He never drank too much, even when with his friends, but that was because he didn't want anything to spiral out of control.

He looked at the towering building before him. The tall metal set of stairs went straight from his penthouse down to the second floor, where a ladder was locked, ready to be deployed down. The square concrete gave it a city look that didn't match well with the buildings surrounding it. He admired how it seemed to cast its shadow over the city, letting anyone at the top just take in the world around them. He had to hand it to his father. He had done right by buying the place, which was a small miracle in and of itself.

CLINGGGG

The loud sound of metal on metal struck through the dead night air. Kestral snapped his head back, and looked for any sign of what it may have been. Not a soul greeted him in the half-empty parking lot. Of course, it wasn't well lit, either. Kestral could have sword that the light stuck in the center of the lot had been working the day before. He just decided that he would need to fix it the next morning.

He turned back around and walked towards the door. With a swipe of his keycard, it unlocked and allowed him access. He made his way to the lobby and entered the elevator door, giving a wave to the night shift as he passed. He pulled out a key, and pressed it into the lock next to the penthouse button. He jabbed the button and waited as the doors closed, and it began to go straight to the top.

He couldn't help but wonder; where had Charlie been those past few weeks? He was usually harassing his costumers in a vain attempt to put him out of business. Or trying to convince his employees to stop working under 'that anti-American, fascist commie', or something along that line. But he hadn't seen Charlie for nearly three weeks, and he was beginning to wonder if he had just given up.

Or finally found a girlfriend. He thought.

He had never really understood Charlie's hatred for him anyways. From what he could tell, it was his father that coaxed him into harassing Kestral. Sure, both of their fathers grew up during the end of the cold war, but that was over. There was no need to keep the hatred going, as far as Kestral was concerned.

The lights flickered for a moment, but the problem quickly fixed itself. Kestral looked around, wondering what could be wrong with the lights. He was going to need to fix those as well. The last thing he wanted to was to scare away costumers by making them think there wasn't any upkeep.

The door opened, letting the cool air of the large set of rooms enter. An odd smell was in the air, but Kestral couldn't identify it. He walked in, and oddly enough, the lights weren't on. He knew that his father's truck was in the parking lot, and that he didn't often stay a long while in any part of the building unless it was important. A thought lingered in his head, that maybe something was off, but that, along with the hairs standing on his spine, was pushed back into the basement of his mind.

He flipped the lights on, and moved through the living room that was presented. A well kept couch off to the left, with a large television, and a wide entrance to a kitchen to the right. All seemed rather calm, but as Kestral walked back, he couldn't help but wonder just what that smell was.

He kept walking, on towards his room, but then he stopped. He noticed that the bathroom in the hall had its light on. He tapped on the door.

“Hey dad, I just want you to know that I’m home!” He called through the door. There was no answer. Huh. First time he's ever fallen asleep on the john.

He walked back towards his room. He opened the door, and flicked the light on. He strolled in, kicking off his shoes, and began looking for the next day's clothes. He grabbed one of the plain green collar shirts that was the custom look for the employees. He then grabbed some khakis and made sure they were all clean with a sniff test. With that taken, he threw off his other clothing as well, and made sure to grab a towel in the hall closet.

He went to the bathroom again, and saw that the light was still on, and the door still closed. He needed to take a shower, so he knocked again. “Dad, are you alright in there?” There was still no reply. He knocked on the door again. “If you don't answer, I’m coming in.” The silence deafened him. He turned the knob and opened the door.

The smell hit him like a brick wall. It was something burning, and it had the scent of some kind of meat. He forced the door open all the way, and his blood ran cold at the sight. It was his father, sitting in a metal chair, covered in dark blood, with his head rolled back. One of his arms was stretched out over the counter, and lied over a candle, which explained the smell. On the ground, under his other arm, was a bloodied knife, but no stab wounds were present. Under the chair was some frayed string, which was at the edge of the pool of red liquid. A slow drip fed the pool

“Dad, no!!” He dropped his things. Out of his initial shock, he ran to the body and shook the shoulders, not wanting to believe the image before him. The head rolled forward; just enough to see the hole set right in the center. Only then did Kestral see the splatter directly behind the body.

With all the horrifying images forever stuck in his mind, he began to do the one thing anyone would logically do; call the police.

He dashed out of the bathroom and ran for the phone in the kitchen. He grabbed it and frantically dialed nine-one-one. He impatiently waited for the operator, but none came. Not even beeps indicating the lack of connection. He hung up and tried again. “Come on comeonCOMEON!” Again, nothing. He tried to call downstairs, with the same result. “What the fuck!?!”

He followed the phone set's cord to the wall with his eyes, and saw it was cut.

He didn't have time for this. He ran back to his room to look for his cellphone.

CLICK CLICK

Kestral froze as he saw an Avtomat Kalashnikova forty-seven point at him from a figure in the center of the room. The figure started walking towards Kestral, and he backed up towards the living room in equal amounts.

“Hello, 'Kessy'.” The void dripped with venom. The figure wore jeans and a black hoodie. Even with the vendetta mask he wore, Kestral could tell who it was pointing the gun at him.

“Charleston.” Kestral smirked.

“Don't you dare use that name, fuck-wad.”

“Don't use mine, bitch.” He was already backed up to the center of the living room. He wasn't sure what to do. There was no way he could close the distance between the two without getting shot. But the feeling in his gut told him he had to do something. Anything, as long as it meant Charlie didn't get away with it. “Why do this? What did we do to you?!”

“Oh, it's not about me.” He was acting as if he was some high and mighty miracle hero. “This is about what people like you do to our nation.” He began walking in circles around Kestral.

“What are you talking about?!” He yelled. “I've done more good for this place than you have, you little shit. Just ask anyone outside of your little white-supremest circle of friends.”

Charlie just laughed. “White supremest? Is that what you think? No, this has nothing to do with racial stature.” He took a deep breath. “This is about protecting American people, American assets. From dirty. Fucking. Commies. Like. You.” He punctured every word with the gun.

That's when Kestral burst for the gun. He grabbed it, but it was pulled out of his grip. Charlie smashed the side of the gun against his face, giving Kestral some blood flow out of his nose. The hit was enough to push Kestral back several feet.

God damn it. I just need a gun, and I’m home free.

“Name one friend you have that's a minority.” Kestral didn't know what else to do, so he just needed to keep him talking so he could think of a plan. Only silence answered him back, so he smirked again. “Exactly.”

“Shut it.” Charlie aimed the gun directly at Kestral's chest. “It's not my fault they're so hard to get along with.”

“That might be because you go around calling them all criminals.” A racist, and a dumb-ass. Unfortunately, one that knows how to use an assault rifle.

“Quiet!” He was obviously pissed. He looked like he even wanted to shoot Kestral, which begged the question, why hadn't he yet?

“What are you gonna do, shoot me? Go ahead, it's not like you could ever beat me in a real fight.”

“Are you asking for a bullet to the skull?” He asked, but shook his head as he concentrated. “I'm giving you a chance, Kestral. To live.”

“Really? You say that while aiming a rifle at me?”

“Precaution.” He stated. “And just another reason to show you why it's best to get out of here.”

Before Kestral could say anything, Charlie dug around in his pocket and threw several pictures at him. Kestral didn't react immediately, but did spy them.

“Go ahead.” He led on. “Pick them up.”

Slowly, Kestral did so, making sure to keep note of where Charlie was at all times. He picked up several and went through them. The first was... of him? Yes, it was of him, in the living room. Then it was him moving to the bathroom. The next was of... Kestral shooting his father!

“Bullshit! I didn't do any of this!”

“Oh ho ho!” He replied. “But you did! At least that's what everyone else will think.”

“I have an alibi.” Kestral said. “Everyone at the bar will know I was there, not up here.”

“Oh, I know.” He said. “I didn't plan on you getting life in prison.”

“Why?” Kestral pressed. “What's your plan?”

“Really. Do you honestly think I’m going to just tell you everything? I don't plan on you dying quite yet, so you don't get any details from me.” Charlie began to back up towards the door. He smashed the button. “Mark this, Kestral; Run back to your little fucking russki's, wherever they are, and you'll live. Tell them what happens when invaders try to take from America. If you don't; If you try to weasel your way out of this one, you'll die. Then no one will know the truth.” He walked into the elevator. “You have until ten o'clock before those pictures are released. After that, the choice is yours; Live, or die.”

The elevator closed, sending down the only person that Kestral has ever truly hated. With the only threat in the room gone, along with the requirement of staying calm in order to survive, Kestral's pent up anger began to release.

“Fucker!!” He punched the metal doors sealing him from the elevator. “I gave you so many chances! And for this shit?!?” He punched again and again. Then he kicked it several times for good measure. When he slowed his attacks on the structure, he barely even noticed the warm tears in his eyes.

His hitting softened to slapping, then to nothing but leaning on the door. He was furious, but also heartbroken. He wanted so many things. He wanted help from his friends. He wanted to set his reputation straight. He wanted to get revenge. He wanted to feel Charlie's blood splatter across his fist as he beat him to death. He wanted to go back in time, and just make sure none of that could have ever happened. He wanted to wake up and find it was just a bad dream. He wanted everyone to pop out of the other rooms and shout 'April fools'. But most of all...

...he just wanted his dad.

Kestral cried for a good twenty minutes. How could it have come to that? Who could be so blind, as to slaughter a man based solely on some misplaced idealism? What kind of person could kill without a thought, then call it justified simply by the idea that one is above them?

He didn't know. He had no idea what to think. His thoughts were plagued with the body in the next room. They became vicious to him in their own right. Irrational blame placed itself on Kestral for not being there, for not seeing the signs. It was his mercy. It was the fact that Charlie never learned from Kestral, simply because Kestral never really punished him.

After some time, he began to stand up and gather his thoughts. Although he was alone, and able to express his emotions freely, he tried to regain composure in order to think through his course of actions. He walked slowly towards his room.

Something was going to happen at the jail, but what? It would be his death, sure. But would it be just him, or others as well? Maybe Charlie was just fooling him, trying to scare him into running. But he was never able to think through a plan before, so why start then? Someone had to have put him up to the deed. Whoever it was, Kestral couldn't tell. He needed to get somewhere safe. He needed to get out of town until his friends can prove him innocent. Then he could come back and assume his position in life again.

He began going through his closet, and found the hunting gear he used so much. It was his combat boots and pants, belt, and plain black shirt. The large, black vest full of pockets he put on next. He threw out the bright orange hunting vest, since it would help him none.

With the tears slowly drying from his eyes, Kestral was able to start thinking through his plan. He needed to make sure he wasn't seen. The best way he knew how to do that was to just be out in the wild. He knew how to survive there, sure. His father and him often went hunting, sometimes camping too. But if he wanted to be there for the long run, he was going to need supplies.

He grabbed his trusty black duster. It ran all the way down until just above his ankles, with many pockets to fill. Then he grabbed his satchel and his backpack, then his cloth gloves, and moved out of his room. He walked towards another bedroom. Since there were three, that one was used for storage instead of actual bedding. He raced around the various objects and boxes in the room, and reached the closet.

He threw the doors open to find many of his late father's weapons. Instantly he noticed the AK47 was missing. It was his father's favorite weapon, and Kestral couldn't blame him. It must have reminded him of home for all the years he stayed in the U.S. He realized that Charlie had taken it. It angered him, but he decided it was not important. He grabbed the two holsters and set them up on his waist. He grabbed the revolver from the closet and placed it in the right holster.

It was his favorite. The gun was well kept, and quite reliable in many situations. Sure, revolvers took longer than reloading a magazine, but it was a lot harder to jam one. Next he grabbed his side-to-side double barrel shotgun. It was ridiculously short, but that was just to make it easier to carry. Although, cutting it so short made for very forceful kickback upon firing. He placed that in the other holster, which had the end cut off to accommodate the weapon's dimensions.

He filled his pockets with bullets; as many as he could manage, up until he simply ran out of bullets to put away. After that, he grabbed a medical kit and placed it in his backpack, along with the cleaning and sharpening kits. Then, he grabbed his rifle. He made sure not to bump the scope as he placed it in the leather straps in the jacket. Last, he grabbed his machete and sheath, along with his combat knife. He attached the sheathe to his leg and placed each blade in its spot.

With weapons taken care of, Kestral moved to the side of the closet and peeled back some clothing. There, exposed, was a safe. He pressed the six digit code and unlocked its secrets. Inside was valuables, cash, and personal keep-safes. He grabbed a large wad of cash, consisting of a few thousand dollars at least.

With that done, he moved on towards the kitchen and grabbed some food, stuffing it in his satchel. Then he ran towards the elevator. He jammed the button, and got in as soon as it arrived. He took the lift down to the lobby, and looked around for the one person he could trust. With his jacket concealing all but his bags, he walked around until he saw the best assistant manager he could ever ask for.

“Katelin.” He called. He began to dig through his pocket.

“Huh?” She looked up from the computer she was typing on.

Kestral tossed the keys he was looking for towards her. She caught it without flinching. “You're in charge of this place until I get back. Okay?”

“Back? Where are you going?” She asked, curious.

“Places. Can't tell you where.”

“Where's your father? Can't he take it?”

“I... no, he can't.” Kestral said hesitantly. “He's already gone.”

“What? He was here, like, an hour ago-”

“I know.” Kestral cut her off. “Here, give me some paper.” She did. He grabbed a pen and wrote down several lines, then handed it back to her. “These are the accounts you'll need to run the place without us. I don't know when I’ll be back, so take care of the place until I do, alright?”

“Uuhhh...” Was all her answer was. “Kestral, you guys can't just vanish. This place needs you. You're the boss-”

“Correction.” He said. “Until I get back, you're the boss. And you answer to no one but me, and the law. That understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She gave him very questioning looks. “Kestral, are you alright?”

“I'm fine.” He lied. “I need to go. I'll see you soon.” He walked towards the door quickly. He opened the entrance and made his way to his car.

It was going to be a long night.

Kestral knocked forcefully on the door.

“Steve! You in there?!”

The door to the large garage opened, and the off and on sounds of power tools died entirely. From the mouth came a shirtless Steve, with several oil stains on his abdomen.

“What's up Kes? Thought you turned in for the night.”

“I did. Then something happened.” He saw Steve's curious look, but ignored it. “I'll tell you later. Right now, I was wondering if you still had that piece of junk cycle you keep trying to sell.”

“Uh, yeah. It's still in here.” He said. “Still, what's the occasion?”

Kestral shook his head. “I can't waste time right now. It's not even safe for you to be seen with me. I'll tell you later, I promise.” Kestral took out the stack of money from his satchel and counted out several hundred dollars. He then handed over the larger portion of the cash.

“Holy shit!” He said. “I knew you were loaded, but not that much.”

“Yeah.” He said. “Look, I know this is great, Steve, but this is kinda important that I get out of here soon.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, whatever man.” He pointed at Kestral as the two walked back to the motorcycle in question. “But you owe me a damn good explanation. This 'vague and mysterious' shit doesn't fly with me.”

“Don't worry, I’ll call you and the guys as soon as I’m out a reasonable distance.” Kestral hopped on the cycle and turned it on. “And don't tell anyone but the guys what happened here! Seriously, it's better if you just say I stole this or something!”

“Alright!” Steve hit Kestral square on the back. “Night, man.” He pressed the garage button and let the large light from the cycle shine bright into the dark night.

“Good night.” Kestral pressed on the gas and rode out of the neighborhood. With a ride acquired that would not be immediately pulled over, he wasted no time in getting out of town.

Luna watched the whole memory flash before her eyes. She didn't just watch, she knew it, just as Kestral did. It brought up many more questions, but it certainly did let her answer one thing; Who Kestral really was. She understood; He sees the damage that really happens from the changelings. He knows the pain of just up and losing a family member. He was a normal, everyday person, up until the moment it was all taken away from him.

It most certainly confirms his reasoning behind it. But she still needed to know the proof of their misdeeds. Still...

“May I ask...” She watched as he recovered from the lapse. She was almost hesitant to ask. “...what happened after you left?”

“Well. I waited only a dozen or so miles north of the town, for about three months. Turns out someone poisoned the food at the jail, and most became deathly sick.” Luna watched as he wiped some tears from his eyes, although it seemed they never really went away.

“...and your friends?”

“Huh?” He asked, obviously not predicting that question. “They're fine. I checked up on them every now and again from pay-phones. My uncle too. After a while, I started heading north to my uncle's place.”

Luna nodded. She had to give him credit. If anything, he was quite willing to survive.

“I still require proof of the plans that the changelings had made. Do you still have the plans with you?”

“Yeah.” He said.

“May I ask that you find a way to bring it to me?” She asked.

“Well.” He said. She has trusted him this much already. What harm could there have been in returning some of that trust? “If it means that much, then I’ll try to get it to you.” He said.

“Very well! I shall see you as soon as you shall allow. May I ask where you are at this time?” Her magic began to dissipate as she started disconnecting from his dream.

“Oh hell.” He said. “By now I’m probably in Canterlot already.”

Canterlot...? She thought. Oh dear.

Author's Notes:

Late, because i'm super-duper lazy, and i just HAD to finish Metro:Last Light once i figured out how to get it to work on my computer.

Hope you all have a good read. And i hope the ending was not too rushed.