“Wake up, son. It's time for your medicine,” says the mysterious, gentle stallion.

Thunderlane's eyes open, expecting to see the source of the voice standing in front of him, or at least close by. What he sees instead, though, is a room made out of stone bricks with a light and ceiling fan in the center of the ceiling. He stares at it for a moment, watching the wobbly blades slice the air with their wooshes. The light is off, but plenty of natural sunlight is going through the window, illuminating the floating dust specks.

He swallows and cautiously crawls out of the bed, accidentally dragging the sky blue blanket off with him. He quickly puts the blanket back on the bed in as neatly as he can, then looks around the room as he walks towards the window. Next to the bed is a pair of crutches and a rocking chair, and on the chair is a doll of Celestia and an upside down, opened book titled Mare On The Moon. It has a basic picture of the moon when Luna was trapped on it, but Thunderlane does not inspect the book any more than that. He passes a shelf with wooden toys of various things, such as carts, a bird, boats and wooden figurines, all with fading paint and splintering in some parts.

When he gets to the window, he sees towering stone walls with turrets spaced equally apart, and the conversations and chirping birds down below mingle with the echoes of labor. Thunderlane looks at the towers surrounding the place and notices that each one has been decorated with a phase of the moon.

Thunderlane looks down below to the source of all the noise and sees hundreds of acres of open field. A generous portion has been converted to farmland, and tents and shacks are set up on another part. He observes ibexes in the field; some are working, others strolling and a few are laying down somewhere. From what he can see, it looks like some of the workers are building more shacks with wood and other materials brought in by large soldiers dragging wagons while the remaining work in the field or deliver food. As he scans the peaceful scenery below, he spots a familiar tree with a large trunk and thick, green leaves with flowers dotting it near the edge of the facility.

The scenery puts Thunderlane to ease. The confusion remains, but it only lingers as a faint emotion, whereas serenity moves in and dissolves his tension. Thunderlane smiles and puts his hoof on the window sill, trying to see as much of the paradise as he can, but what peace he finds is slashed away by a giggle.

The giggle sounds childish, but it still sends a shiver up his spine, and when he turns around he sees Young Thunderlane grinning at him from the doorway. Thunderlane blinks and moves away from the window to cautiously approach his younger self. His younger version sways in his spot, snickering, and when Thunderlane is halfway across the room, the child speaks.

“You look strong,” he says.

Thunderlane stops and forces a smile, despite how the kid is reminding him of a child serial killer. “Well, thank you. You look pretty strong, too.”

Young Thunderlane's smile fades and he looks down, wings and ears drooped. “Daddy says I'm not strong. He says I'm like a glass pony.”

Thunderlane walks forward, swallowing his spit and trying to keep his heart steady, especially when the lights in the hallway start flickering. “Why would he call you glass pony?”

Young Thunderlane looks up, his smile returning. “You're silly.”

Thunderlane stops, flicking his eyes to the hall when the light snaps off to show blood and bullet holes along the wall, but when the light reappears, none of that can be seen.

“Why am I silly?” asks Thunderlane slowly, still staring at the hallway.

“Because you already know why Daddy calls us a glass pony,” replies Young Thunderlane.

Thunderlane scrunches his brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Young Thunderlane merely giggles and runs out of the room, and Thunderlane holds out his hoof, calling for himself to stop, but the colt keeps going, his giggling and steps fading. Thunderlane's hoof drops and he paces in circles a couple of times, muttering and arguing with himself, before he takes a deep breath and trots into the hallway.

He looks down the direction his younger self went and sees nothing. That is until the lights flicker, showing fresh corpses lying in pools of blood in the dim light. Thunderlane's heart picks up speed and his throat becomes dry as he stares at the disturbing scene. When the lights stop flickering, the bodies and blood are gone, and his younger self is standing at the end of the hall, waving and calling him forward. When Thunderlane starts moving after arguing with his legs that wanted him to back in the room, the colt bolts around the corner.

“Hey, wait a second!” shouts Thunderlane.

He gallops down the hall, hoping to Celestia that the lights do not flicker out again. He rounds the corner and sees posters and paper pinned to boards, all displayed in foreign words, and he sees Young Thunderlane rounding yet another corner, still running and snickering, and now taunting him.

“Come on, slowpoke!” teases the colt, his voice being another voice in Thunderlane's head rather than around the corner.

As Thunderlane gives chase, the walls start shaking like a godly hammer is smashing it, knocking loose the accumulated dust and making the light flicker, revealing more bloodied corpses. He slides to a stop, heart thumping and throat tight as the corpses flicker in and out of existence. The childish laugh from Young Hurricane is carried down the hall and Thunderlane looks up just in time to see the colt round another corner.

“Hurry up, Thunderlane!” shouts Young Thunderlane.

Thunderlane swallows and forces himself to move, trying to avoid stepping on the dead bodies littering the floor. There is another thud when Thunderlane turns the corner and the walls shake again, forcing him to skid to a stop and shield is eyes from the debris of collapsing ceiling tiles. The sparks from the snapped wires burn his coat, and as he winces, he sees Young Thunderlane grinning at him and grabbing a doorknob.

“Watch me bleed,” whispers Young Thunderlane, his voice clear in his head.

Then he opens the door, blinding Thunderlane with a flash of pure white light that burns his eyes. Thunderlane squeezes his eyes shut and raises his hoof again, but when he opens them, and blinks the blobs of colors away, he sees everything is in their prime condition. The floors are clean, the hallway is brightly illuminated with posters written in Bernesenese tacked to boards nailed to the stone walls, and a pair of female ibexes in nurse uniforms trot by him, giggling and speaking lightly in their native tongue.

“Uh... Excuse me,” says Thunderlane, unsure if he should feel lost or stupid about what is going on, but regardless of his feelings, the nurses ignore him. They walk right by him and he turns to look over at them, calling again. “Excuse me, nurses, can you... Help...”

The nurses go into a random room and slam it shut, leaving Thunderlane alone in the hallway. He sniffs and ruffles his feathers to keep his buzzing nerves under control, then after a quick shake, he looks at the door his young clone went in and starts forward.

“C'mon, Good, you know us Whooves have loyalty genetically built into us,” says a stallion lightly from behind the door. “We won't leave you here. We'll do whatever we can to protect you and Thunderlane.”

“Tick-Tock's right, you have nothing to worry about,” adds a mare that sounds way too familiar to Thunderlane to be comfortable, and it actually convinces him to trot to the door at a near gallop. “I know he and Gale have the connections to get you two out of Bernese quickly.”

Thunderlane practically rams the door off of its hinges when he slams his shoulder against it and grabs its knob.

“Thank you, Amber and T-T. This... I am forever in your debt for this,” says another stallion.

Thunderlane pushes the door open, heart thumping in his ears and his breathing short and sharp as he calls his mother, but what he sees instead is a clinic with a pegasus stallion and two ibexes. Nobody else can be seen. Not his mother, not “Tick Tock”, not his younger self. And the room is bleached white with a light bulb acting as a miniature sun, and next to the cot in the center is a table full of medical tools and a purple fluid in syringes.

Thunderlane's ears drop as quickly as his heart, and his pupils shrink to pinpricks at the sight of the needles while the two ibexes watch the pegasus flip through some notes, muttering to himself quietly.

The biggest ibex is wearing a midnight blue fatigues with the gold bars of the Lieutenant rank on his collar, and he has a sandy brown coat, a cropped, red mane, and big horns to go with his massive build. In fact, Thunderlane thinks the ibex can pass off as anearth pony if he looses the horns. Next to the Lieutenant is another ibex that is not nearly as big, but still a good size with a brown mane cut like his superior's and a coat that is like charcoal. Unlike the Lieutenant, though, his is wearing a combat vest with some limb padding above a thick, dark lavender body suit. Thunderlane also notices the claws on his front boots. That part is unnerving, but the pegasus in the lab coat does not appear to be intimidated by them.

“Angenhmen Morgen, eh, Lieutenant Leinen?” says the pegasus stallion in the lab coat, his voice matching the one Thunderlane heard when he woke up.

The giant ibex smiles. “Es ist sicher, Strongwind. Wue geht es Ihrem Sohn?”

“Er wird besser, bald.”

All three turn in unison to look at Thunderlane, and his heart stops and all the air leaves his lungs at who he is seeing.

He is seeing himself.

An exact copy. Mane, eyes, coat, it is all the same, and he is smiling kindly at him. Thunderlane's heart bangs rapidly against his ribs like it wants to escape, and he steps back, stammering incoherently as his eyes dart between the pegasus and the two ibexes. The pegasus turns fully around to show STRONGWIND stitched on his breast pocket with a clipboard holding more notes hanging around his neck, with 'Compound 505' boxed, and Thunderlane takes another step back, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, this... This isn't be right,” says Thunderlane, short of breath in a panicked whisper. “What's going on?”

Strongwind smiles calmly and steps aside to point at the cot. “I'm going to make you better, son.”

Thunderlane snaps awake, shaking and sweating, in the safety of his apartment, on the comfort of his couch. Though, what confuses him is that there is a blanket on top of him. He does not remember covering up with one; he only remembers listening to the radio, then passing out. And speaking of the radio...

“The only thing that has changed about Trixie is her last name!” says an impatient stallion on the radio. “She is still a destructive, attention hog! Going from fraudulent magician, to a bastardization of Mare-Do-Well, to retirement, to going back at it again! Only this time she is endorsed and paid by Celestia for some stupid reason! She's got issues, plain and simple, and somepony like her should not be going on these 'patrols' with the guards, unless they want to see more wagons being forced to crash into trolleys or ponies thrown through windows of a fast food joint.”

“I think you are overreacting,” says a cultured stallion calmly. “It will be false of me to say that she is not troubled, for she is. She has a lot of problems that I -as her godfather- am trying to help her through, but despite what you may think, I believe her actions show her selflessness. She has changed a great deal and-”

“But how can you rightfully defend Trixie when everything she does is destructive, though? Aside from her Mare-Do-Well persona leaving a trail of wreckage where ever she goes, reports say she is relapsing on her addictions, making her rehab basically a huge waste of money. That, and she lets her newborn hang around a casino that thrives from social negativity. Even her husband was a member of the Grizelda Mob, and she chose to marry him! Somepony who is supposed to be a symbol of justice and she marries a crook. How hypocritical can you get? I mean, really?”

“Believe me, I wasn't too happy about the marriage, either, but she did not want her child to grow up fatherless. Besides, Monte knows I am watching him. Closely. As for Braille, me and Fleur spend as much time as we can keeping her away from negative influences, and as it was recently revealed, we have even begun taking steps to have joint custody with her.”

“That's good. Hopefully you can get full custody so you can get that filly away from Trixie before she does something really stupid. Speaking of which, you have not offered a defense on her relapse.”

“There is none, and I have confronted Trixie on more than one occasion about this. That goes without saying that Fleur, Monte and I are working together diligently to get her back on track and we won't give up on her. Ever.”

Thunderlane sits up on his couch, groaning as he reaches to turn the radio off. Once it is off, he looks in the kitchen, sniffing the air while his ears flick at the sound of sizzling vegetables giving the apartment a pleasant aroma. His eyes then drift down to see Tank staring at him with that same weird smile. From a spot between his legs.

Thunderlane's eyes widen and he pushes himself back, scrunching himself against the arm of the couch, and the shelled fiend cranes his neck to keeps his wrinkled eyes on him.

“Shoo,” says Thunderlane with a wave of his hoof.

Nothing but a smile.

Thunderlane cautiously extends his hoof, takes a breath, then starts pushing the strange reptile away. It resists at first, but it seems more like a playful resistance since its smile does not go away. Only when Thunderlane strains his arm length to push Tank does he crawl off the couch. Somehow landing on his webbed feet even though he falls off the couch in such a way that he should have landed on his shell.

Thunderlane blinks a couple of times before shaking his head and looks towards the kitchen to see what he can without getting up.

He sees Rainbow Dash's back is to him, tail flicking slightly and her head turning to move the spatula in her mouth. Whatever she is cooking crackles, pops and sizzles with each shift from the utensil, and they grace the air with a pleasant aroma of cooked vegetables and spices.

Thunderlane rubs his eyes, crawls off of his couch and trudges to his room. Rainbow Dash has been using the bed ever since she socked him in the jaw, but while her uniform is sloppily laid out on the bed, the sheets are actually well made. The blanket is stretched as far as it can go, there are no wrinkles to be seen, the pillow is tucked snugly under the covers, and the corners are made with the proper, forty five degree angle hospital corners.

This continues to surprise Thunderlane that she can be so careless about nearly everything, but when it comes to making beds she still clings to the boot camp standard. Thunderlane is the exact opposite. He always hated those stupid hospital corners, but when it came to his uniform, that was -and still is- something he takes pride in, even if it is forced. The crisp display of his uniform serves as a reminder that he can least he can make his uniform proper among the few other things he can do right. Like making coffee or blinking.

That being said, when Thunderlane goes in his closet and dons his uniform, it is a snug fit and very comfortable. A perfect sign that he has taken good care of it. Though, right as he is about to leave, he notices Rainbow Dash's saddle is plopped carelessly near his closet with her spare uniform spilling out like the guts of a dead animal. Seeing that, Thunderlane can only sigh, shake his head and put the uniform on a neat display on his bed before leaving to the dining room to eat the freshly prepared meal.

The smell of barbeque and fried veggies are pleasant and make his mouth water. But since drooling is a nasty display that can lead to a quick slap in the mouth, he swallows his glob of spit and silently approaches the table, where Rainbow Dash is waiting, and smiling nervously for some reason.

“Hey, Thunderlane, did you sleep okay?” asks Rainbow Dash, feigning her cheerful tone to mask the anxiety she has.

Thunderlane pulls up his chair and sits in front of his breakfast. He thinks he sees some carrots and cabbage in the soup of barbeque sauce, as well as what he is guessing are onions, diced potatoes and some okra. He is certain she went out to get these things because the last he recalled, he did not buy any of this stuff, except for the carrot. After that, it was all leftovers and take outs.

“You cooked breakfast,” says Thunderlane dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah,” says Rainbow Dash slowly, hoof rubbing the back of her neck and her smile more of a cringe. “I figured since we'd be getting medals today, we need to get a good start, you know?”

“You didn't have to cook. You could have woken me up and I would have fixed us something.”

“But I wanted to cook.”

Thunderlane arches a brow skeptically, now curious as to what game she is trying to play. Granted, the vivid dream still has him on edge, but after the crazy days the two shared, he's not sure if it really is just an innocent gesture, or if she trying to pull a fast one and appease him for breaking something. It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened, since he recalls how Cloudchaser and Flitter both fixed him a surprise breakfast, only to figure out that they broke something. In the case of Flitter, it is is his couch, still scarred, and in the case of Cloudchaser... Well, his fridge has gone to a better place.

“Did I tell you how awesome you were when you took out that thing's engine?” says Rainbow Dash, her casual tone clearly forced.

“No,” replies Thunderlane slowly.

“Well, you were awesome!”

“Thanks... So were you.”

“I know I was awesome. I'm always awesome! In fact, I'm so awesome that I cooked you this awesome breakfast!”

She finishes her awesome overdose with a broad, toothy grin and nervous squee, and Thunderlane stares back at her, brows furrowed in confusion and paranoia coming in full force. He can't help but wonder if she really did break something, like the fridge or plumbing, and is trying to get on his good side. It would not be the first time she got on his good side only to do something horrible to him a short time later.

There is a near minute of strange silence between the two, with Thunderlane trying to decipher what Rainbow Dash is up to, and the Element sweating in her spot.

“Are you okay?” asks Thunderlane cautiously.

“Me?” Rainbow Dash snorts and waves her hoof dismissively. “No-Yes! Yes, I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine! I'm not nervous at all!”

“Nervous about what?”

“Absolutely nothing! Now eat you damn food before it gets cold!”

Thunderlane sighs and rubs his brow, head bowed and eyes scrunched shut. “Rainbow, if you're nervous about the ceremony, just say so.”

“I don't get nervous, nervous gets me... Wait...”

Thunderlane looks up, eyes squinted and mouth slightly open as he stares at Rainbow Dash, who has succeeded in confusing not only herself, but him as well with her ill thought out response. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash looks at Thunderlane and points at him with an accusing hoof.

“Why are you acting weird?” she says.

Thunderlane stiffens in his seat, eyes bugged out and jaw slack. “What? I'm not being weird. You're the one acting weird by cooking breakfast and doing worthless double speaks.”

“Oh, so me cooking breakfast is weird, now?”

“Considering that all you do is veg, feed Tank and let me do everything else? Yes.”

“And I decided to break that streak by giving you breakfast, which you obviously don't want, so I guess I'll give it to tank, instead.”

Rainbow Dash reaches for the plate, but quicker than a striking cobra, Thunderlane's hooves block the mare's hoof and he pulls the plate back defensively as far back as he can go without it spilling all over his uniform.

“NO!” shouts Thunderlane. Rainbow Dash's eyes grow and she remains frozen in place, and he stares back at her, completely still and eyes also big. Then he realizes he might have yelled a little too loud, judging from how her ears are folded back and the slight wince she has. Thunderlane clears his throat a moment later and relaxes in his seat, which gets Rainbow Dash to sit down, as well, much to his relief. “No, I want the breakfast, but I... I just don't know what's going on.”

Rainbow Dash tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

Thunderlane swallows and looks down at his plate, then back at Rainbow Dash before starting with a sigh. “I mean... Well... You cooked breakfast.”

Rainbow Dash scrunches her brows. “...Yeah...”

“So... What does that mean?”

“It means I was just being nice since you let me crash here and were totally awesome when those goats attacked us. Did you think it was something else?”

Thunderlane swallows nervously, feeling a burden of disappointment easing itself on his heart like its its throne. “No... No, of course not. I was... I was just wondering why you were doing this, is all.”

There is another moment of silence between them, with only the whooshing sounds of his ceiling fan and the ticks of his clock to fill the void between them. Thunderlane waits for an answer, but all he gets is Rainbow Dash shifting in her spot, muttering something he can't quite understand. He thinks she said something about being nice, but he doesn't know if she is faking or not. When he looks at the sadness gnawing away at her, though, he realizes he just might have made a terrible mistake. A mistake he's certain he will make worse if he stays and continues letting his spooked mine create more conspiracy theories.

“Rainbow, I'm sorry, but I need to go somewhere,” says Thunderlane. He pushes the dish back and feels his heart sink even more when he sees out of his peripheral vision Rainbow Dash's ears droop. Then he stands up and brushes some wrinkles out of his uniform. “Save this for me and I'll have it later.”

“Wait, you're leaving?” asks Rainbow Dash.

Thunderlane nods. “I have an appointment I need to get to. Thank you for breakfast, Rainbow.”

“You didn't even eat my breakfast.”

“Thank you for making it. I'll have it later. I promise.”

“Wait, did I say something or do something wrong?” asks Rainbow Dash, her desperation making itself clear.

Thunderlane shakes his head. “No, it's not you, it's me and this appointment I forgot about.”

He starts walking towards the door when-

“Wait!” blurts Rainbow Dash.

Thunderlane stops and looks to Rainbow Dash is still in her spot, but her irritated expression is replaced with worry. She is shifting a bit in her spot and chewing on her lip, too, as if she is having physical trouble trying to form the right words, but Thunderlane waits, giving a quick glance at the clock near the kitchen while doing so.

“Seriously, what did I do?” she asks worryingly, ears drooped and eyes pleading for an answer to his strange behavior.

Aside from the residual effect of the dream playing Hell with him, Thunderlane wants to ask Rainbow Dash what game she is playing with him ever since the bombing. Why she is crawling to him for company, then punching him in the face and scolding him the next day, and now making breakfast for them both like they are courting. A piece of him is demanding he stops being a nice guy and get up in her face about this strange behavior, but another part of him warns him against it. She did work hard for the breakfast, she is the only one on the team he can really talk to, and she has given him the comfort that only a mare can give. Even if it was for just one night on a couch that resulted in a punch to the jaw.

What kind of retaliation will come if he snaps at her? Will she leave? Will she punch him again? Will she leave and get hurt by whoever wants to hurt her? Will his words damage their odd relationship and further push him in the dark of the team he's supposed to be a part of? He really does not want any of those questions answered, especially since as dim and strange as the light is, she is the only one he has left, aside from his mother. And even then, he has doubts about how real Amber Grain is to him.

Just like he is has doubts about how real Rainbow Dash's light is.

“Don't forget to lock the door when you leave,” says Thunderlane quietly.

He then leaves without saying another word and slowly closes the door behind him, not looking back as he quickly goes down the hall. Once at the elevator, he again holds the door open for the overworked mother and her foals, then realizes after the door closes that he could have just flown instead of staying locked inside the cramped box.

Nearly an hour and a half later, Thunderlane finds himself sitting in Doctor Pad's office again. It is the same routine. He is wearing his uniform without pride, and she is dressed in a simple blouse with her notepad and pen floating in front of her. Though, one of the things Thunderlane notices about Pad is that her normal pleasant appearance is marred by the sadness in her eyes. It is a sorrow that is drowning her. A feeling he is no stranger to. He figures it has something to do with the stallion in her desktop picture since the picture frame is now surrounded by small flowers.

“So, you're early,” says Pad, her pleasantries painfully forced.

Thunderlane nods, quietly replying: “Yes, ma'am.”

Pad and Thunderlane sit in silence with only a ticking clock to keep them company. Thunderlane glances at the clock, expecting to see the stalker number there, but it is barely noon, and the only reason Pad let him in was because she had no one else to see for the next few hours.

“You look more down than usual, Thunderlane. What's wrong?” asks Pad.

Thunderlane shrugs. “I don't know what's real, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“In fact... I don't even think I'm my mom and dad's son,” adds Thunderlane quietly.

Pad leans forward, eyebrow raised questionably. “What do you mean?”

“It's... It's just a dream I had where I saw an older version of myself wanting to give me medicine... He called me 'son'. But it felt so real, like I was reliving a memory.”

“Can you tell me about it?” asks Pad, intrigued.

Thunderlane is reluctant, but he still nods, figuring he has nothing to lose since his father forced him to cease all visits after this meeting.

“I was in a stone building of some kind, and I was chasing myself,” begins Thunderlane. There is a second's pause before he adds for clarification: “He was me as a colt, and he actually called me a 'glass pony' and was happy to see me and said I looked strong. It was like he was idealizing me or something.”

Pad scribbles something down. “Did this young you look frail or unhealthy in anyway?”

Thunderlane shakes his head. “No. I mean, he was kind of creepy, but he looked fine from what I saw. He also wanted to show me something and the last hing I heard him say before I met my older self was 'Watch me bleed'.”

Pad writes some more and underlines what she wrote, then she reclines in her seat and stares at Thunderlane curiously, pen tapping a couple of times against the pages. Though, this simple action scares Thunderlane into making his ears twitch, for they too much like gun parts clicking in place to him.

“Did you see five-oh-five anywhere?” asks Pad.

“It was with the paperwork on the older me's clipboard,” says Thunderlane as he runs a shaking hoof through his mane. He takes a moment to sniff, then continues. “I heard my mom talking to him, and another guy named Tick-Tock, but they were talking like they were good friends. She said Gale -my dad- would get the two of us out, but I didn't see them when I opened the door, only the older me. And the older me was named Strongwind...”

Pad thinks for a moment. “Were you ever sick at any point in your life that made you feel like glass? Specifically when you were younger?”

Thunderlane shakes his head. “No, ma'am. Not that I can recall.”

“Hmm.” Pad taps her pen against her chin, eyes on Thunderlane, but distant from any connection as she works her mental gears. “What can you tell me about this Strongwind?”

Thunderlane frowns questionably. “What do you mean? I only saw him for a minute, so I don't think I can tell much.”

“Well, think of it like this, the colt you called you a glass pony, and then you met your future you, whom you have called Strongwind. Was there anything special about Strongwind, besides him looking like you?”

“Well,” begins Thunderlane slowly, trying to recall the last tidbits of detail, “he worked in a doctor's office and had a lab coat with medical equipment nearby. And he was also surrounded by two goat soldiers. I think they were protecting him or something, and he said he was going to make me better.”

“Okay, I think I know what's going on.”

Thunderlane looks at Pad, getting an idea of where she is going, and she takes his silence as her cue to carry on with her theory.

“I think what this dream was trying to show you who you think you are and who want to be,” explains Pad, getting a skeptical raised brow from Thunderlane. “This younger you idolized you, even though he called you a glass pony, because you are stronger than he is. You see yourself as the weak child, like glass, beautiful and shiny, but easy to break, but the child looks up to you because you are stronger than you think you are.”

“I guess I'm creepy, too,” mutters Thunderlane.

“Also, maybe the child wants you to see him bleed because pain has become such a part of you and you think you cannot live without it and you think you need to bleed to live, but the future you says otherwise. The future you is how you want to be. You want to be strong and help others, and you want good friends that will always have your back, like soldiers in a unit who are always there and ready to protect one another.”

“Or maybe it was a memory and it was saying that I'm adopted or one of those illegitimate kids,” counters Thunderlane, slumping in his seat. “That would explain why my dad hates me so much.”

“Thunderlane,” starts Pad with a sympathetic smile, “I don't think your father hates you. He may be tough, but I believe every parent loves their child in some way and they only want what's best for them.”

Thunderlane scoffs and slumps in his seat. “Well, what you believe is different than reality.” Thunderlane's nice-guy part of the brain swiftly gives him a righteous mental slap on the back of the head, and his pupils shrink as he clamps his mouth and looks at Pad. Seeing her shocked expression is all the encouragement he needs for the next set of words. “I'm sorry. That was rude.”

Pad waves her hoof dismissively. “No, no it's... It' okay.” She forces a chuckle. “You are very tame compared to most of the patients here.”

Thunderlane has a strong feeling that she is lying through her teeth, and he's certain that she made a blunder because of the way her cheeks flush in embarrassment and how her whole demeanor sinks.

“Okay, that was inappropriate of me,” says Pad with an uneasy smile. “Back to you, though. What else do you have on your mind?”

Thunderlane stays silent. He is now waging a war in his mind about what he should do next. He already lowered his guard somewhat and let out some of the pressure, which admittedly feels good, but he does not know what will happen next. Will she ridicule him? Will she tell his father so he can torment him? Or will she just pretend to care by scribbling down a bunch of stuff and give a half-assed assessment that any foal can give?

“Come on. Let it out. This going to be our last session, so why don't we make it count, okay?” says Pad.

Again, there is a pause. A pause that feels like it is choking the air out of Thunderlane as one part of him tells him to keep it locked up because it is nobody's business, and the other saying the pressure is too much.

'Let it out. Just let it all out,' urges the other part of him.

Thunderlane feels a wet ball rolling up his throat, and it brings a haze to his eyes when he forces it back down. He keeps his eyes to the ground, too, not wanting Pad to see his weakness.

“Please, Thunderlane,” says Pad.

“Do you ever feel worthless?” asks Thunderlane, his eyes still to the floor.

Pad blinks at Thunderlane, and he looks up at her, swallowing again and rubbing his hooves together, silently begging her with his wet, reddening eyes for her answer.

“That is a hard question to answer,” says Pad. “Why? Do you feel worthless?”

Thunderlane nods and looks back at the carpet. “During my eight weeks of basic, and the twelve weeks at the Academy, I tried so hard to be important, to be that... to get that feeling of worth, but I couldn't do anything right,” he begins quietly. “If something was wrong, everypony looked at me. If somepony's sheets weren't made right, the MTIs would wreck the room and everypony would look at me. If the latrine was not cleaned right, everypony looked at me. We spent hours each day practicing marches because I could not get it in my thick skull how to move properly, and during the combat simulations, nopony would team up with me unless ordered because they did not want to die. They would say, 'Sergeant, with all due respect, I don't want to die', and our MTI would say: 'No, you won't die because Hurricane is gonna be your shield'. Some shield I turned out to be.”

Thunderlane sniffles and wipes his nose and face to hide what is trying to escape, but it is a losing battle. And a growing part of him thinks this will be a battle he needs to lose.

“I was the slowest in my class, had the worst aim out of anypony, and the only thing I was good at was making a cloud cover,” he says, trying to keep his voice from shaking or cracking. “The team I am with now doesn't even want me because they know I can't protect anypony. I can't protect them, just like I can't protect my brother, and yet, out of all this... this screwed up mess of a pony, I am the only one that can walk away from death constantly.”

Thunderlane's muzzle wrinkles to a scowl and he flexes his hooves, loathing himself for walking out of the bombing unharmed while his brother suffers in the hospital.

“You know that bombing at the Stadium was almost exactly like Glorieta? Only, instead of a pony in a painting suit, it was an ibex bomb,” continues Thunderlane, his disgust for himself oozing into his voice like a toxic sludge. “I remember the pain, the bleeding, I remember hardly being able to move, and yet... And yet I'm just fine by the next day. After the bombing, every cut I got was completely gone, and there was no sign of bruises or broken bones. Apparently the pain I felt was all in my head, but I know it was real. I know there is something wrong with me because I just...”

Thunderlane lowers his head more and squeezes his eyes shut and hit teeth together as he presses his hooves against his ears, hearing the sobs and cries of agony. Every broken body, every destroyed soul is seen clearly in the taste of Hell, always there to vividly remind him what happened and what he failed at doing. It also reminds him of what a freak he is.

“I just can't stay hurt,” sniffles Thunderlane, his voice now trembling with his body despite his best efforts as tears rolling down his cheeks. “Ponies I'm supposed to protect, like Rainbow, my team, other soldiers, my brother, they all get hurt and they stay hurt! They bleed! They break and die around me!” Thunderlane throws his hooves down and looks at Pad, pointing at himself and speaking frantically. “But not me! I should have died twice, but I didn't! I should have at least been crippled, but I wasn't! It's not fair that more capable, more loved ponies who actually have something to live for die or get hospitalized when a worthless, glass pony like me walks unharmed like a freaking plague!”

Thunderlane slumps in his seat, shaking, with his mouth sealed tight and unsteady breaths going out of his nose. Silence comes between the two, and Thunderlane looks at the clock, and seeing nothing spectacular, he looks back at Pad, however, she says nothing, so he continues after swallowing some air.

“I'm just sick of it. I'm sick of it all,” says Thunderlane, his tone defeated like his posture. “I'm sick of seeing the ones I care about get hurt because I can't be their shield, and I'm sick of not knowing where I belong or who I am to the ones that are supposed to care about me. I've started wondering what's the point of fighting if no pony fights for me? What's the point of... of this miserable existence? Would anypony even care if I bled out in front of them? I honestly don't think so. I'm a mistake. And nopony likes mistakes.”

“You're not a mistake, and I would care if something happened to you,” says Pad, meeting his eyes when he looks at her with a saddened shine, swallowing a lump in his throat and wanting to believe her. “Thunderlane, I don't want you to bleed, neither does your parents or your friends. We all care about you and want what's best of you. You think you are weak, but I know you are stronger than you think you are. You are not worthless, you are valuable, and you do have a purpose. When you let go of those lies that put you down, you will see just how strong and valuable you really are, and you will find out your purpose in life. I promise.”

“Why do I have a hard time believing that?” mutters Thunderlane.

“It's because you haven't started healing yourself, yet, but you can't heal by yourself. You are your own worst enemy, Thunderlane, and all this sadness and guilt is manifesting into anger and destroying you from within. Nopony wants to see you breakdown. Not your mother, not your father, not me or your friends. But you need to open up and truly let your friends and family into your life so they can help you through your trials and help you carry your burdens.”

After that statement, Pad pulls out a small sheet of paper and scribbles some information on it, and after that, she takes out another sheet, small like the one she just wrote on, and folds them together.

“Unfortunately, it is almost time for me to go. I am giving you this last prescription, and a list of doctors that I know personally and can vouch for who can help you if you need it,” she says.

Pad levitates the prescription and list of contact information to Thunderlane's pocket, and after they are snug inside, he runs his hoof over them, nodding quietly at his shrink. The psychiatrist then reclines in her seat and continues.

“My advice, do not take just those pills with some food and water,” she says. “You need to get out more. You need to open up to others. These pills do not solve the problem, they only numb the pain, but I promise you, if you let your guard down and get away from your island, you will be happy.” The psychiatrist offers a sad, toothless smile and blinks away the shimmering in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe just one day out will help you find that one special somepony that will truly make you happy.”

Thunderlane nods hesitantly. “Yes, ma'am.”

Pad motions him up, and the two walk to the door, with Thunderlane trailing his doctor, and before she opens the door, she gives him a somewhat stern look with a slightly raised hoof aimed at him.

“Another thing, if you need me for any reason, or if you do not feel comfortable talking with the doctors I recommended, give me a call, got it?” says Pad.

Thunderlane nods again. “Okay.”

Pad steps to the side, opens the door and smiles. “Good.”

When Thunderlane is next to her, she extends her hoof, and Thunderlane cautiously presses his hoof against hers, then she unexpectedly pulls him in for a hug using her magic. He tenses at first, but when she gently rubs the back of his neck, he awkwardly lifts his hoof, takes a shaky breath, then pats her on the back as well with stiff movements meant for a rusted robot. Seconds later, they break away and Pad gives Thunderlane a small smile.

“Get well, Thunderlane,” says Pad softly.

Thunderlane sniffs and-

“HURRICANE!” barks Spitfire.

He jumps in his seat, eyes bulged, heart jackhammering in his chest and his throat betraying his masculinity with a pathetic squeak. “Yes, ma'am?”

Silver Lining snorts a laugh and Thunderlane remains rigid in his seat, but dares to flick his eyes around the small conference room. Rainbow Dash is sitting next to him, staring at him with an arched brow; Fire Streak is near Spitfire, but going through some folders; Silver Lining is, unfortunately, sitting next to Thunderlane and doing a great job of looking like a cat with an impossibly wide grin; and Misty and Fleetfoot are sitting near Fire Streak, also giving Thunderlane their fair share of unimpressed looks.

“You done daydreaming?” says Spitfire.

“Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am,” says Thunderlane quickly, clamping his mouth shut and tightening his muscles like overstretched wires when he realizes his blunder.

Thunderlane does not feel any better when Rainbow Dash groans and rubs her forehead and everyone else shoots a snicker or an eye roll his way. The only one who really does not give him a hard time is Fire Streak, and Thunderlane is not sure if it is because he is trying to keep a mature image or if he really does not care about his mistake. Spitfire definitely cares, though, as marked by her furrowed brows and scrunched muzzle.

“Hurricane, test my patience again and I'll give you something to really apologize for,” sneers Spitfire.

Thunderlane nods, barely able to speak. “Yes, ma'am.”

“As I was saying, I'll make this quick so you guys can enjoy the ceremony,” says Soarin.

He and Spitfire exchange apprehensive looks before he starts pacing in front of a projection of Rotes Leinen and Cutter with their names printed underneath. When Thunderlane sees the picture of Cutter, though, his eyes widen and his ears droop as he vividly remembers seeing that ibex in his dream. The way the picture is taken showing Cutter looking out of the corner of his eye, like he knows he is being watched, but to Thunderlane, it looks like the terrorist is looking at him. That being said, Thunderlane stares at the picture like a child who is seeing a ghost until he realizes that Spitfire is giving him an odd look. Fire Streak also glances at Thunderlane's direction, and only when the dark pegasus forces himself to lower his eyes do his superiors remove their focus from him.

“As you all know, Equestria has been the target of attacks in what we have believed to be a response to the assassination of the Bernesenese Generals,” says Soarin, unaware of the strange scene between Thunderlane and his superiors. “However, recent intelligence points to the attacks being carried out by a terrorist organization known as the Gold Star Movement. They are believed to be enemies of the Bernese government, as well, and what their endgame is, we do not know. That being said, all full scale operations have been adjusted to strictly defensive and we will be carrying out a surgical offense to cripple the Gold Stars.”

Soarin removes the projected pictures of their targets and slides in another picture. This one is a topographical map of Bernese with a region labeled Der Tal outlined in bold, black marker. From the looks of it, the region has a good sized river flowing through it and the whole area is like a bowl in the middle of a circle of mountains.

“Your missions will be simple,” continues Soarin. “Major Temper will lead you into the region of Der Tal to apprehend Rotes Leinen and his lieutenant, Zäh Ausstecher, and bring them back to Equestria for trial. Intelligence points towards Leinen having control of the region with a small army ranging anywhere from five to seven hundred militants at his disposal.”

Silver Lining scoffs a laugh, and Soarin cocks a brow at him while Spitfire and Fire Streak give the obnoxious sniper a glare.

“Is something wrong, soldier?” asks Soarin, his tone hinting at a quick loss of patience.

Thunderlane figures that this patience problem might be mostly due to his “daydreaming”. And walking in late because of his aimless wandering his last visit with Doctor Pad probably has something to do with it, too.

“Not to be the negative one, here, Captain Pansy, but we're looking at a two hundred gun window. And even if the number was at just five hundred, shouldn't we send in a small army of our own?” says Silver Lining, ignoring the borderline, demonic scowl his superior is giving him. He then looks at his teammates one at a time, smiling a bit nervously. “C'mon, I can't be the only one who thinks sending in a team of six ponies against five to seven hundred soldiers is a stupid plan.”

“Seven,” corrects Fire Streak.

“Seven?”

Fire Streak points at Thunderlane, giving Silver Lining a harsh gaze. In turn, the said silver coated pegasus looks at Thunderlane, smiling apologetically while receiving an unpleasant stare from Thunderlane and Rainbow Dash.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Thunderlane,” says Silver Lining.

Thunderlane hears the phoniness in his teammate's voice clearly, though, and his whole demeanor tanks like concrete slab in a river. Truth be told, Thunderlane really wants to crawl in a hole and stay there for the rest of the day, probably the whole week, for Silver Lining's cruel joke. It certainly showed what his suspected value was. He does hear Rainbow Dash mutter something, but he cannot be sure exactly. All he is certain of is that it involved a form of profanity. That aside, he looks ahead at Soarin, not wanting to get chewed out for losing his focus again.

“To answer your question, Lining, I am fully aware of the situation, but I am not asking you to wage a one squad war. I am telling you to be smart and snatch our targets without bringing the whole region down on your heads,” says Soarin venomously. “Besides, Captain Compass Rose and his zeppelin, The Harmonious Light, will take you in and out of Bernese and provide air support should the need arise.”

The Captain of the Royal Guard then switches out the pictures to show a political map of Bernese, except this time the national border is surrounded by x's, save for two spots. They are both in the most mountainous regions of Bernese, with one being conveniently close to Der Tal, and the other near the nation of Germaneigh. There are more x's that are surrounded by large circles, with some overlapping and others remaining secluded, and with those are silhouettes of hammers barely covered by circles. It does not take long for Thunderlane to realize that Der Tal is barely touched by the x-radii.

“And now that I mentioned Captain Rose, I will tell you right now that his ship will be slipping through a hole in the radar network discovered by our agents operating inside Bernese,” adds Soarin. “The ship will be intercepting suspected radio transmissions and it is equipped with prototype radar-cloaking enchantments that should keep you shielded. However, we are keeping the risk at a minimum, so you will be above the clouds and going through radar weak points throughout Bernese.”

Thunderlane stares at the map, trying to figure out how a zeppelin will be able to slip through the radar network that Bernese has set up. Others in the team seem to be taking notes, as well, and Fire Streak, after stroking his chin for some time, decides to raise his hoof.

Soarin nods to him. “Yes?”

“I got two questions, actually, sir,” begins Fire Streak. “First, what are our orders when dealing with the Bernese military? Second, what kind of weapons and support can we expect the Gold Stars to have?”

“For Bernese, you are to be strictly defensive. If you come in contact with them in anyway, do not engage unless fired upon. For the Gold Stars, our information points towards sub-par weaponry and home built armored vehicles. However, Der Tal is their home turf. They know the region like the bottom of their hoof, so do not underestimate them for any reason. Like with the Bernese military, do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Any more questions?”

No answer.

“Good.” Soarin changes the projected picture to a blueprint of a mansion and a basic layout of a town, also labeled Der Tal. “Now, this is the blueprint of Rotes Leinen's manor and the town of Der Tal. Your objective, where ever Leinen and Ausstecher are, is to infiltrate and grab them and get out. Preferably with minimal conflict.”

Celestia stares at an oil painting of her and Luna above her fireplace. Her ears are drooped and her tired eyes have become moist with tears, but not a sound escapes her. Not even the fireplace is lit, leaving the gray, ashy remains of overused logs and the burnt brick to give a cold, silent reminder of what had died out. She has half a mind to light the fire place to give some warmth in the chilly room, but she also finds herself enjoying the darkness. Without the light to expose the details of her lavish room, it is just her and her thoughts. Unobstructed and free to wander. She has always believed that it was for reasons such as this that Luna loves the night. In the day, there is too much going on, but the emptiness of the night has a peaceful loneliness to it.

However, that peace does not last as long as she wants or needs, for her thoughts take her to the same place she has been visiting ever since Luna left.

“We do not need a pedestal to control the moon, Sister. But until you are Celestia again, We will not stand by your side.” Those had been the last words Luna said to her before she left her to wallow in the empty throne room. Luna did not even walk out. She just disappeared in a flash of blue without giving Celestia a chance to talk some sense into her, to remind her that her actions have been for the better of Equestria, not some desire to control every aspect of life like she has been accused of doing.

Celestia's green tinted eyes focus on Luna's portion of the painting. They are both prim and proper and contrasting with the brightness and darkness of their fur and attire, but there is a bigger difference between them. Celestia's pose appears relaxed out of centuries of discipline in presentation, and all her inner turmoil is nonexistent in her thin smile. Luna, on the other hand, has a hard time smiling. It is like something has latched on to her heart and is keeping true happiness away from her. Her smile is thin like Celestia's, but it does not show a calm, regal alicorn. Instead it shows a deity who is held hostage by her own guilt.

“Aw, Tia, why so gloom?” asks an oily smooth stallion, his voice like a soft echo in her chamber.

Celestia's ear twitches and she looks out of the corner of her eye, scowling slightly. “Charon, you know you are not allowed in this world.”

The stallion chuckles and Celestia gets a shiver up her spine when the un-welcomed guest steps out of the shadows like they are a doorway. His frazzled gray mane hangs past the pools of swirling ghostly faces that make up his eyes, and his torn bat wings flex as more ghostly swirls move around his hooves. His black and red Gothic armor is partially covered by a tattered cloak that flutters from his mana, and Celestia's whole body shivers when the hushed voices of hundreds -if not thousands- of souls enter her room. It is like an audience is being forced to welcome their torturer, but their vocal chords are too damaged to do any proper cheers.

That being said, of all the alicorns that have been created, Celestia has always found Charon to be the most disturbing. This is mostly due to his appearance, but his cynical outlook on everything does not help his image, either. However, despite her unwanted guest's unnerving presence, she still tries to hide her uneasiness with a brave face.

“Aren't you happy to see me? I thought we were close,” teases Charon.

“You thought wrong,” answers Celestia sharply. Then she takes a breath and looks at him fully, trying not to let the dozens of crying and terrified ghostly faces making up his eyes faze her more than they already have. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I just wanted to talk for a little bit before Mommy Dearest finds out I'm loose,” claims Charon. “I heard that your cute project nation was going to get involved in its first war in a thousand years. How are you going to win this war, Celestia? Mass petrification? Solar flares of doom? Genocide? Please tell me! The anticipation is killing me!”

Celestia frowns. “I'm trying to avoid the war at all costs.”

Charon sits down next to Celestia, ignoring her hardening gaze. “Aahhhh, still trying to avoid the inevitable, I see. Typical you. Still, a war with an ill prepared nation- No, a global war with ill prepared nations against warrior nations sounds like the kind of slaughter I've been needing ever since the Chaos Ages.”

Celestia wrinkles her muzzle. “How could Mother make something like you?”

Charon shrugs. “Somepony has to ferry the spirits to their new homes. However, I have a confession.” Charon turns and leans in close so his muzzle is nearly touching Celestia's, and she leans back, having to raise one of her fore-hooves just so she can lean farther away from the retched alicorn. “I'm also here because I wanted to personally thank you for thinking about me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Charon slides in front of Celestia and grabs her hoof with his and presses his forehead against hers, with his curved horn rubbing against her. A tingle of energy surges through the horns, and Celestia closes her eyes with a sharp gasp as surging tingles make her muscles shiver, and she keeps her eyes closed when she hears the alicorn before her let out a throaty chuckle. A short moment later, she feels a tiny hoof stroke her cheek, but the hoof feels like mist with a mind of its own.

“Mommy,” whimpers a filly in Celestia's ear.

Celestia's eyes snap open and tears roll down her cheeks, turning her dark makeup around her eyes into dark streaks that follow the trail of tears. Her pupils shrink and have trouble focusing on the ghost of a filly staring at her from its place in Charon's eye socket. Her spectral hoof is extended and Celestia's throat feels tight and her hoof wants to go up to touch the filly, but the ghost is sucked away and replaced with a cackling stallion specter that swirls to make Charon's iris.

“I'm paying a price!” laughs the stallion madly, his hooves pressing against his head, his eyes bulged from the pain of his torment as he swirls faster in circles. “The price! The price! The price!”

“The price!” echoes in her ears, and with it, a growing number of other voices, all speaking over each other in various tongues and emotions. With the amount of voices Celestia hears, her ears fold down on their own to silence them and the jewel in her armor shimmers green and makes her heart feel heavy and slow. Celestia opens her mouth to get some more air in, and from the edge of her vision, she can see Charon's horn glowing with red tendrils snaking around her horn and moving down towards her crown and breast plate, stroking her slowly and sensually all the way.

“MOMMY, MAKE HIM STOP!” wails the filly suddenly, louder than all the other voices yelling for attention.

“Shush,” orders Charon lightly, silencing all the voices, leaving just him and Celestia's heavy, shaking breathes. Then he licks his lips and continues rubbing Celestia's hoof, speaking the whole time. “Come now, Tia, don't be so dense. Your recent actions have brought so much souls my way that I got a backlog sitting in Purgatory, awaiting Paradise or Tartarus. It is the most fun I've had in a long time, going through all those souls and sending them to be judged. I am meeting a lot of interesting characters, and they, too, added to my craving of wanting to get out more. So, I thank you, my dear Celestia .” Charon kisses Celestia's hoof and flashes her a rotten grin. “Thank you, oh so much from the bottom of my heart.”

Celestia yanks her hoof away, snarling: “Get out of my room!”

Charon sighs and stands up, flexing his leathery wings. “Okay, well, it was nice talking to you for the few minutes you allowed.”

He walks towards his point of entrance and looks at the potted flowers. He gradually extends his hoof, and when the tip touches a flower with yellow petals, the whole plant withers and crumbles as a brown heap. A frown flickers across the alicorn's face before he looks at the Sun Goddess one more time with a forced, toothless smile as he silently commands the souls around him to slide into the shadows.

“Another thing, Celestia. When you see Glimmer and Pinkie again, tell them that Charon says hi,” says the alicorn coolly. “And I think... Yes, that is all. Enjoy your day, beautiful. I can't wait for all the souls your choices will send my way. Including yours. Ciao.”

Celestia's coat pales and Charon winks and clicks his tongue, then disappears into the wall. Celestia stares at the wall, unable to think about anything other than Charon's parting words and the filly's pleas for her to make him stop. Seconds pass and a wet stone bullies its way up her throat, pushing the tears out of her eyes and giving her the feeling her neck will explode from the inside. Her shoulders buckle as she lifts her hoof to her mouth, then she bows her head and squeezes her eyes shut. Moments later, a muffled sob is heard in the darkness.

There is an explosive flash of light that burns Thunderlane's vision away, and the dark stallion blinks the colors away as the applauds fill the air. He thinks he hears a congratulations in the mix, and when he manages to stop blinking, he sees one of Rumble's old classmates, Featherweight packing up his camera. Soarin is also shaking each hoof of the team, and he and Rainbow Dash exchange odd smiles while Spitfire meets his smile with a snarl and a hoof-shake that is more like a punch than a kind gesture. This makes Soarin wince in pain, and he gives her an angry look, which she returns in kind.

Soarin snorts and quickly hobbles to Thunderlane, hoof extended. Thunderlane glances at the Major out of the corner of his eye, wondering what is going on between the two, since last time they seemed close. Very close.

“Ahem,” coughs Soarin.

Thunderlane snaps to Soarin and flashes an apologetic smile while putting his hoof out. He misses, but quickly gets it right the second time. Unfortunately for him, Silver Lining is next to him, so he saw the blunder.

“Nice,” snorts Silver Lining.

Thunderlane orders his eyes to stay focused on Soarin, but his left eyelid ignore him when he tells it not to twitch.

“Congratulations, Hurricane, you made us proud,” says Soarin in a rehearsed manner.

“Thank you, sir,” replies Thunderlane.

Once Soarin moves to Silver Lining, Thunderlane loosens up with a sigh and glances at the silver sun pinned to his chest, which had to be attached to his jacket by a unicorn to make the ceremony go by quicker. Just seeing the beautiful piece of polished, thin metal on his uniform makes his chest feel full of pride and his lips curve to a toothy smile as he gently rubs it. However, that smile disappears when he looks up to the audience and sees his father but not his mother in the crowd. Then his ears drop with his sulking shoulders and wings when he concludes that she must be with Rumble. Watching him and being constantly reminded of how badly he had failed them. Which, quite frankly, Thunderlane knows he deserves the resentment and knows Rumble needs Amber Grain more than he. After all, last time he tried watching his brother, a bomber took his face and limbs away.

“Yo, Thunderlane, you okay?” asks Rainbow Dash suddenly, now standing next to him.

Thunderlane looks at the vibrant mare, blinking questionably. “Huh?”

Rainbow Dash frowns and puts her hoof on Thunderlane's forehead, and he looks up at the said hoof, blinking once again.

“Uh, Rainbow, what are you doing?” asks Thunderlane.

“You've been out of it all day! First, freaking out at breakfast, then zoning out in front of Spitfire, and now this? I think you might be sick or something,” says Rainbow Dash. She drops her hoof and looks at him worryingly as she holds out one wing. “Quick, how many wings am I holding up?”

Thunderlane frowns. “One.”

“Okay. How many feathers?”

Now his brows furrow. “I don't know. A lot?”

Rainbow Dash humphs and retracts her wing. “Good enough.”

She then looks over her shoulder, and Thunderlane follows her lead, trying to see what she sees. First off, their team has spread out to mingle with the guests and the reporters. Secondly, Celestia eases herself on her ceremonial seat behind the long table taken up by fancy dishes. She is flanked by military officials who all give her the proper greeting, which she returns with a weary smile and bow before seating herself. It is then that Thunderlane notices how the once bright goddess has become the epitome of gloom with her drooped demeanor and distant, reddened eyes. Even her white coat seems to be a shade of gray, now.

Thunderlane's focus drifts away from Equestria's ruler to a small army of bodyguards surrounding Twilight and Fuller in the back of the room. It is there that Thunderlane spots Twilight talking to a mare in the corner of the room with the aid of Fuller, which does not appear to be much since all it looks like is him staring while she talks.

The mare that Twilight is talking has her head bowed, is wearing a simple, yellow dress with a thick, black and white winter coat, and a diamond necklace. Twilight continues talking, the mare shakes her head and hoof, but eventually Twilight's relentless badgering, complete with a childish hop and a nudge, compels the mystery mare to get up.

The group and their armed escorts go through the crowd that parts ways without second's hesitation, and when the trio is in front of them, Thunderlane realizes that the mare is Rarity, whom he has not seen for quite a while after leaving Ponyville for his training. And Rarity looks like she is going to have a panic attack with the way her head is down and her eyes dart between the patrons. Her whole tense demeanor is purely defensive, and it looks like she is ready to run out, probably in tears, too, from the way her eyes are glazed.

Rainbow Dash narrows her eyes. “Rarity.”

Rarity swallows. “Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow Dash's hostile expression goes to Fuller.

“Hey, Fuller, killed anypony recently?” she says with a sneer.

Twilight shoots Rainbow Dash a nasty glare, which she completely ignores, but Fuller merely cracks a small smile and shakes his head, chuckling lightly. This actually draws a surprised look from Twilight, which, in turn, makes Rarity look at Twilight quizzically.

“Not today, Airmare Dash,” says Fuller, prompting the vibrant mare's fur to bristle. “I actually wanted to congratulate you and Hurricane on your achievements.” He takes a breath and puts his hoof on Rarity's shoulder to guide her forward. “I believe your friend had a gift for you to commemorate you two for your bravery, as well.”

Rainbow Dash and Thunderlane look at Rarity, and he hears a small whine escape her lips and sees a small trail of sweat trickle down her forehead. Twilight has to put her hoof on Rarity's shoulder and assure her that it will be okay before the alabaster mare slowly removes two small bundles from her coat pocket.

Thunderlane stares at the bundle quizzically, but seeing Rarity's eyes moisten more and her turn to Twilight, muttering about knowing it was a bad idea to come, he smiles reassuringly and takes his bundle from her magical grip.

“It's okay, I'll look,” says Thunderlane. He glances out of the corner of his eye and sees Rainbow Dash staring at her marked bundle, bemused. “Rainbow?”

“Fine,” huffs Rainbow Dash.

She takes her package and the two pegasi tear them open, only to deal with bubble wrap. Thunderlane swears he sees Celestia cringe slightly from seeing the bubbly plastic being exposed, however, the gift that is inside is something worthy of all of Thunderlane's attention.

His eyes widen at the onyx circle on a silver chain with a gold engraving of a bipedal creature with the legs, floppy ears and curved of a goat, but the torso, arms and face of a bald ape. It is playing a flute and is surrounded by a swirls of bright colors, and in the background is a ringed planet. He turns the pendant over and sees this engraving:

Thunderlane lowers the pendant and looks at Rainbow Dash's to see hers has a pair of birds circling each other as its engraving with a blue planet in the background. He does not see the markings on the other side, but he does catch Rainbow Dash sniffling a bit.

“Heh, Pinkie would love this, she's an Ararauna like me,” says Rainbow Dash as she wipes her eyes. She smiles at Rarity and gives her a one hoofed hug as her other hoof presses her gift closer to her barrel. “Thanks, Rarity, this is pretty cool.”

Rarity relaxes and smiles, as does Twilight and Fuller. At this point, Thunderlane cannot help it, he is not starting to think that Fuller might be sick if he is smiling. However, even though Fuller is smiling, he also notices that Rainbow Dash is still giving the CDA Director a cautious look.

“Fuller said that you and Rainbow Dash were close, so I got you two something similar,” says Rarity.

She flashes a worried smile and chuckles while Rainbow Dash steps back and condemns Fuller with her eyes. The older stallion merely smirks in return.

“I hope you don't mind,” says Rarity, cringing nervously as Thunderlane goes back to inspecting the gift.

“Oh, no! Not at all! This is great! I love it,” says Thundelane. He stops inspecting the necklace and, not knowing what else to do, he brings Rarity in for an awkward hug. “Thank you.”

“It was no trouble, darling,” says Rarity, also returning the hug.

“Oh, sure, you hug him back, but not me,” teases Rainbow Dash.

Rarity cracks a thin smile at Rainbow Dash and tightens her hug around Thunderlane's neck, choking him slightly and forcing one hoof up.

“Are you getting jealous, Rainbow Dash?” she asks.

“I'm always jealous when I'm not getting attention,” says Rainbow Dash proudly, puffing out her chest to make her point clearer. She glares at Fuller, though, adding: “And I mean good attention, creep.”

Twilight scowls. “Really, Rainbow? Can't you be polite to him for just five minutes?”

“Don't worry, if I could not handle the insults of an overgrown filly I wouldn't be where I am now,” says Fuller.

“Oh, ha. Ha,” retaliates Rainbow Dash, her frown growing when the two unicorns giggle.

It is at that moment that an earth pony stallion wearing the uniform of a Brigadier General approaches the group.

“Airstallion Hurricane?” says the Brigadier General, his eyes focused on Thunderlane.

Thunderlane zips away from Rarity and snaps to attention with his hoof up in salute. “Yes, sir?”

The earth pony offers an easygoing smile while returning the salute. “At ease.” After he and Thunderlane lowers their hooves, he continues. “I'm glad I finally have a face to go with that suit of armor. I will forever be in your debt for saving my life. I'm Brigadier General Signal Horn, by the way.”

Brigadier General Signal Horn extends his hoof, and Thunderlane hesitantly extends his until they touch. The two shake hooves, and the earth pony grins at the mares as he puts his hoof on Thunderlane's back.

“Ladies, I'll be stealing your stallion for a while,” he says in goodhearted fun.

There is an overwhelming barrage of responses that mold into gibberish, but rather than trying to decipher the messy response, the two stallions just walk away. Along the way, Thunderlane looks over his shoulder and sees Fuller parting ways with the mares, and as he leaves, Rainbow Dash watches him intently. He also notices that Celestia is watching him, too, and that the Sun Goddess whispers to one of the guard's who then approaches the CDA Director to relay the message.

The old unicorn stallion's ear flicks from the guard's words, and after a short pause, he nods and approaches Celestia, where she takes him somewhere private. Though, when Signal Horn starts talking, Thunderlane puts his attention back to him.

“During that attack, you held a stance nopony else had. Everypony was running around, screaming and shooting like mad dogs, but you? No, you were quiet and stood your ground, standing over a defenseless pony and taking on a superior foe with aim in mind,” says Signal Horn proudly as they weave through the crowd of soldiers, reporters, civilians and caterers.

Thunderlane's good mood sinks. He does not have the heart to tell the Brigadier General that he really did not aim. All he did was shoot his preferred, slow firing weapon at the ball of light in front of him in the hopes of hitting something vital. Plus, he knows his aim is barely above passing. That being said, the Airstallion can only smile nervously and fight a strenuous battle to keep his muscles from making him fidget idiotically.

Signal Horn tilts his head towards the least populated part of the room. “This way, Hurricane. I want to discuss something with you that I think you will like.”

Thunderlane nods. “Yes, sir.”

Thunderlane follows the earth pony's lead, though, not without looking out of his eye nervously at the calm party and the guests that populate it. It does not take long for Thunderlane to spot Gale again, talking to Soarin, who, much to little to no surprise, appears uneasy in his presence. The General breaks eye contact from Soarin to watch the two with his ever observant eyes, just waiting for a reason to go over there and probably make another one of Thunderlane's evenings Hell.

“What you did can either be called brave or stupid depending on who you ask, but I personally think it was brave,” continues Signal Horn when they are safe away from the mingling crowd.

“Thank you, sir,” says Thunderlane quietly.

The two stop by a mural of Celestia controlling the celestial bodies, looking regal with her head bowed and wings outstretched as night and day grace the farmlands and cities.

“That day when you stood your ground against that aircraft, I saw greatness, and when you destroyed that thing's engine...” Signal Horn's voice drifts off, and he tilts his head this way and that in thought for a second or two before smiling at Thunderlane. “Well, you didn't hear the cheers when those flames came up and that thing started going out of control.”

“With all due respect, there were others that helped, sir,” says Thunderlane carefully. “Major Temper is the one that actually took out the pilots while Staff Sergeant Lining chipped away at the defenses. In all honesty, sir, if Airmare Dash hadn't come to me, I probably would have stayed put.”

“Don't sell yourself short,” says Signal Horn with a wave of his hoof. “It does not matter what you would have done if somepony wasn't there, what matter is what you did. You gave Major Temper that window to take down the pilots, and there is no telling how long it would have taken for Sergeant Lining to take out such a craft with sniper fire. It was a team effort, and you played the biggest role of the team, whether Sergeant Lining or Major Temper like it or not, understood?”

With that final phrase, the Brigadier General has hardened his expression and has aimed his hoof at Thunderlane's chest. It makes the pegasus feel a bit uneasy, seeing as how the stance reminds him of his father scolding him over every minute flaw, even if the words are supposed to be encouraging. Despite this, Thunderlane still manages a nod.

“Yes, sir,” he says meekly.

Signal Horn lowers his hoof and relaxes his posture, his harsh look changing to a more neutral one.

“On to business, now. After what has happened, Captain Pansy has set things in motion to give Generals personal security officers should our enemies make another attempt to attack us. I would like for you to be part of my security team,” says Signal Horn, a wide grin growing at the tail end of his statement.

Thunderlane blinks questionably. “Sir?”

Signal Horn sighs and gently places his hoof on Thunderlane's shoulder, staring at him with a concerned look in his eyes. “Look, I know an unappreciated soldier when I see one, and the choice is yours for whether or not you want to transfer to a better position, but think about it like this. You are misplaced and miserable, and I owe you a life debt. If politics hasn't eaten all of the honor in the military, then I am absolutely positive that I can arrange something special that will make it worth your while to be one of my guardians.”

Thunderlane can't help but grin at this. Just the thought of a General wanting him to a personal bodyguard and claiming to owe a life debt to him makes Thunderlane feel giddy on the inside. So giddy, in fact, that he almost shouts “Yes” on the spot. Aside from the better pay that will no doubt come with such a position, it will be a huge honor to be a guard of a high ranking official, and it just might help redeem himself after his failure to protect Rumble. If anything, it will at least prove to himself and his father that he isn't totally worthless.

However, thinking about Rumble leads to his joy decomposing on the spot once again. He did fail to protect his brother and Rainbow Dash, and that is something he knows he can never get over, even though he is going on a mission to take down the ones responsible for what happened. While it may seem ideal to heal the wounds between him and his parents, it still won't fix what is broken inside him.

Not only that, but he really does not know how long the mission to Bernese will take, and even though he does not feel completely part of Spitfire's team, he is still there and cannot abandon them. No matter how unfavorable they may be. Besides, a part of him does not want disappoint his team, and abandoning them for a better position before a mission is a great way to do that. Then there is the fact that the chances of the transfer request going through and being accepted to the desired post -or team- is slim to none. It is almost a waste of time to even think about going through the motions.

With all these depressing thoughts gnawing away at Thunderlane's good mood like starving maggots on a corpse, his joy quickly ends and he lowers his eyes to the floor. He looks up a moment later with a deep sigh and tries to give the earth pony General a neutral look. He has a strong feeling that he failed miserably.

“Sir, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but I... I will have to think about this,” says Thunderlane cautiously.

Signal Horn nods, appearing unaffected by Thunderlane's statement. “Of course. I'll be sure to have a slot open for you until I get a definitive answer.”

Signal Horn then digs into his uniform's inner pocket with a little difficulty and pulls out a folded manila envelop with the Equestrian Royal Guard Department of Affairs seal stamped on it. It is still in the General's mouth when he motions Thunderlane to take it. The Airstallion is hesitant at first, but he still bites down on the other end and gently takes it from the earth pony. Afterward, he spits it in his hoof and studies the envelope, noting how the end is sealed with thick permanent marker scribbles on the back where it is sealed. He looks up from the envelope when the Brigadier General speaks.

“That is the transfer paperwork,” says Signal Horn. “Should you decide to take me up on my offer, fill it out and turn it in to the D.O.A. hub. If not, my contact information is inside, so feel free to tell me if you declined. Or put it in for processing.”

Thunderlane smiles awkwardly. “Thank you, sir.”

Signal Horn then brings his hoof up for a salute, and Thunderlane returns it with a crisp motion, spotting Gale making his way over as he does this.

“Carry on, son. You've earned this day,” says Signal Horn.

“Thank you, sir,” replies Thunderlane, dread growing with each approaching step of his father.

Gale arrives seconds after they lower their hooves, and while Thunderlane feels like he is going to vomit from the General's presence, Signal Horn offers his superior a polite nod.

“Good evening, General Hurricane,” greets Signal Horn brightly.

“Good evening, Horn,” says Gale, nodding curtly to the earth pony and smiling thinly. “I noticed you were having a word with my boy. Anything I should be worried about?”

“No, sir. I was just thanking him personally for saving my life. You raised a great stallion.”

Thunderlane looks down, frowning resentfully at those words, thinking about how “great” Gale was in raising him all these years.

Gale chuckles. “I try. Well, you better get back to the party. It's my turn to bug him, now.”

“Of course.” He nods to Thunderlane. “Hurricane.” He nods to Gale, smiling. “Hurricane.”

The two pegasi return the nods and the earth pony trots away, leaving the two alone. Once Signal Horn is out of sight, Thunderlane takes a deep breath and looks at Gale nervously.

“Where's Mom, sir?” asks Thunderlane, even though he is certain he knows where she is.

“She's at the hospital keeping Rumble company,” replies Gale, still eying Signal Horn, his smile now replaced with a scrutinizing frown.

Thunderlane looks down, feeling the returning guilt of his failure to protect Rumble overtaking the burst of joy and squeezing his neck and heart. He swallows and prepares to apologize for what he allowed to happen, but jumps and snaps his eyes up when he feels a hoof go on his shoulder.

“Relax, it's just me, boy,” says Gale, his frown replaced with a small smile. “Amber wanted to be here, trust me on that, but she felt she needed to be with Rumble.”

“Okay,” says Thunderlane quietly, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Rainbow Dash, Rarity and Twilight talking. Fuller and Celestia are nowhere to be seen, neither is Soarin or Spitfire, but the rest of his team is still mingling with the crowd. From the looks of it, Misty is trying very hard to be polite with Filthy Rich and his drunken flirting. How he got in is a big mystery to Thunderlane, and from the looks of it, the guards that are approaching him are just as confused as he is.

“But now that I am here, I wanted to talk to you, boy,” says Gale with a proud smile, snapping Thunderlane out of his observation, and the General uses his hoof to guide him towards an empty table near them. After the two take a seat, he continues. “I won't get on your case about anything. I actually wanted to congratulate you on your achievement.”

Thunderlane shifts uneasily in his spot, struggling to get the rock-like words to leave his tongue. “Thank you, sir.”

“I remember when I got my Silver Sun medal in the Frontier Watch. Me and this crazy earth pony named Grape Muffin took on a full grown dragon together in the Badlands. It about nearly killed us both, but nothing a spear to the eye and a slash to the jugular couldn't fix.”

“That sounds like quite the story, sir,” mumbles Thunderlane, unsure if he should smile or continue to look at the pale tablecloth in response to the convenient father-son bonding moment.

“You bet it was!” laughs Gale. “If you met Grape Muffin you'd think he was destined to be the Element of Laughter. Always goofy and doing something stupid, that dirt stomper was. But, anyway, when we got this report of a dragon attacking miners and stealing the gold and gems, Grape Muffin went to me asked if I wanted to set a new record. So I asked him what he meant and he said: 'Two ponies. One dragon. Let's do it!'. I told him he was crazy, but he said if I didn't go, he would set the record at one pony, one dragon. I couldn't let him go alone, so I went with him and-”

Gale's words fade in Thunderlane's ears as he looks past the older stallion, just to see what else is going on, trying to ignore the gleeful expressions and hoof movements of the pony in front of him. The three Elements are still talking. Fire Streak and Fleetfoot are by a table of food, Silver Lining is making up some kind of story for the reporters, and the rest of the crowd looks to be milling about, putting up a facade that they are having fun.

“-After our commander, Lieutenant Colonel Ji, found us siting on the dead dragon, eating our rations and joking around, he about nearly flipped his lid and had us punished good for breaking protocol,” says Gale on the brink of laughter, bringing Thunderlane back to the conversation. “Eight months of janitorial duty. Dishes, garbage, lawn care, you name it. That actually pissed me off, but Grape Muffin took it with a smile. The awards we got from Princess Celestia herself for killing the dragon made our days a little better, though.”

There is a moment's pause, with Gale taking a deep breath and Thunderlane's golden eyes struggling to focus on his father. He cannot help but feel a simmering concoction of resentment and sadness boiling inside him, and it makes his eyes burn as he fights to keep his emotions in check.

Now his father -whom he doubts is his father, anyway- wants to bond after giving him thirty years of Hell? Now he is his father's son after he is awarded the same, shiny medal that he has? Now he can talk and laugh with him after he kills who knows how many ibexes? Now Gale can pretend to care about him since Rumble does not have a face and can't move because of what he failed to do?

“So, why don't you tell me how you took down that ship? I want to hear how my boy showed those goats what happens when you mess with Equestria!” says Gale eagerly.

Thunderlane swallows, blinking away a layer of mist that leaves his eyes red and putting his trembling hoof under the table as his nostrils flare from his resistance to screaming.

“Um, actually, with all due respect, I'd, um, I'd rather not talk about it,” says Thunderlane. He feels a tear go down his cheek, and Gale's smile fades as he swallows and blinks again. “I would actually like to visit Rumble to see how he is doing.”

Gale's smile is completely gone at this point, and Thunderlane meets his expression with barely contained rage that bleeds misery. Thunderlane is expecting his father to lash out and order him to tell him everything, or give a lecture about respect, but what happens instead is a complete shock.

“Oh,” says Gale somewhat disappointingly, sadness flickering in his eyes.

It is a sadness that Thunderlane does not want to care about, but still finds himself feeling a little guilty for causing it, it is not enough to stop his anger, though.

“Well, that is understandable to visit your bother and mother. I know she will be proud of your achievement like me. Why don't I take you there?” says Gale.

Thunderlane shakes his head. “No, it's okay, I can-”

“No, I insist.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I'd like to see them alone! Is that alright?” snaps Thunderlane.

Thunderlane and Gale stare at each other, with Thunderlane staring down Gale's shocked expression with an acrimonious glare. A heavy, pregnant pause passes between them that ends with Gale sighing and nodding in defeat.

“Okay, boy, I'll let you go alone. Just know that I am proud of you, and-”

Thunderlane gets up without letting Gale complete his sentence, and hurries towards the nearest door, not caring to look back. His heart beats savagely in his ears as he pushes the door open as hard as he can, breathing heavy and face feeling hotter despite the cool air, and he marches down the concrete walkway, passing guards that give him quizzical looks. Once the door slams shut behind him with a metallic bang, he expands his wings and shoots off into the sky, leaving the ceremony and everyone else behind.

Birch snorts awake when he hears a soft click coming from somewhere nearby. He yawns and blinks a couple of times before looking at the dial radio sitting on his nightstand. The old thing has a fuzzy signal, but it is just good enough for him to understand what the current host is saying. It is a message that puts a rotten feeling in his gut.

“What the Gold Stars did should not be seen as evil, but rather as good, for they have saved us from the vermin that have spread their disease in this valley and manipulated us with their deceit,” says a male ibex over the radio in a voice heavy with pride and adoration of the controlling party. “My brothers and sisters of this valley, this event should not be met with fear or desires of retaliation. It should be met with joy and praise, for it marked the first step of our freedom from the true oppressors and it displayed the courage and honor of those who fight for us, the workers!”

Birch's tired eyes lower to the floor, and now all that he can think of is his guilty conscious. He can't even imagine what Post felt when Rotes killed him, nor can he imagine the terror and the sadness of the other victims and their families. As far as he knows, no one knows he had a hoof in their deaths, but now that he thinks about it, word gets out very easily in a contained area like Der Tal, and his guilt gives way to fear.

What if the townsfolk figure out that he sold out Post? Would they kill him? Torture him? Burn down his home with him trapped inside?

Birch's heart starts thumping and his whole body quivers as gruesome imagery of him being dealt brutal street justice swarms his mind. The thought most dominate being burned alive in his own home. With such things going through his mind, he starts hyperventilating and tries in vain to tell him that it will be alright. Rotes may have the area on lock down, but he is certain that all he has to do is tell Rotes that he fears for his life to get permission to leave with his reward money. Maybe he should flee Bernese entirely and go to Germaneigh, or possibly Ibexia.

A spark of determination urges Birch to go to Rotes to plead his case before his hooves forbid him from walking. The old ibex reaches for a suitcase that was given to him by March after Post was murdered, but stops when he sees his blood money on display, congratulating him for selling out a beloved member of their community.

Six hundred and fifty bronze coins, thirty silver coins, and twenty gold coins, all polished and shining in the light of his simple living room. All clean as they day they were given to him.

The only problem is that Birch never reopened the case after March showed him the contents.

The color drains from Birch's face and his throat becomes tight as he glances out of the corner of his eye to see a red maned, female ibex wearing thick glasses with glasses that make her orange eyes appear bigger. And covering her body is a dark cloak and she has a lavender scarf wrapped around her neck.

Birch's heart sink and he slumps in his chair, finding himself unable to break eye contact from the intruder.

“Are you here to kill me?” asks Birch weakly, his voice wet and cracking.

The red maned ibex just stares at him, her unforgiving eyes being magnified by her glasses and her jaw getting tighter.

“Now we all must take the next step together as a true community united in the very real freedom that Perfect Harmony will grant us. Band together and help our saviors raise the Gold Star!” proclaims the radio host proudly.

“Turn it up,” orders the female.

Birch gulps and extends his quivering hoof to turn up the radio's volume right in time for the host to announce Rotes Leinen's “Great Leap Forward” speech.

“Do you enjoy sending good people to their deaths, Birch?” asks the intruder.

“I-I did not know Rotes would kill him, any of them! I thought he only wanted to talk,” claims Birch shakily.

The intruder pulls back her sleeve slightly to reveal a pistol barrel with a muffler nestled against her hoof. Birch's eyes widen and his speeding heart jumps to his throat, suffocating him and soaking his eyes and cheeks in tears. When he looks at the face of the female, he notices a thin firing bit nestled in her mouth. Her eyes narrow and her jaw tightens, and Birch holds up both of his hooves defensively, choking on his tears and shaking in his seat.

“Please, I swear I did not mean for any of this to happen!” sobs Birch.

The intruder's eyes narrow, and before Birch can say anything else, there is a flash of light and a muffled pop, and his world goes dark.

The assassin slides her sleeve back in place and carefully pushes out the firing bit with her tongue. During this, she stares with minimal satisfaction at the gaping hole in Birch's head and the splash of red and bone on the wall behind him. Seconds later, she turns her attention to the briefcase of money and contemplates on whether or not she should confiscate it for the ones she work for. Her decision to leave it instead comes pretty quickly.

She looks back at Birch's corpse and she brings up her other hoof, which has a small radio device strapped to it, and presses it against her ear. It turns on with a satisfying click and fuzz, and after turning it on and off three times in one second increments, the fuzz disappears and is replaced with a welcoming ding.

“Winter, this is Spring, threat has been neutralized,” she says.

“Good to hear. Any more information about his connection with Star I should know about?” says a male on the other end.

“Nope, he is still a one time informant that got a glimpse of me and sold out Father Post, but he won't be informing ever again.”

“And the reports of Post?”

“Verified. He's gone.”

“I see... You are playing a dangerous game, Spring. Star is destabilizing.”

“We all saw this coming. What's your point?”

“No, this is quicker than we anticipated. I am going to pull you and Guardian out before his paranoia finds you two.”

Spring shakes her head. “No, you are not. I am going to finish this. I can finish this if you will let me.”

Winter sighs on the other end. “I want this to end, believe me. I am doing everything I can to get the Chancellor to agree to the kill order, you know that, but he is being stubborn and...”

Spring knows what he wants to say, but they both know that they cannot risk giving any clues of their association to whomever may be listening in. But despite the looming presence of being spied on, she still smiles.

“I will be fine,” she says reassuringly. “I actually need to get back with my captor before he sends the dogs after me.”

Winter chuckles, but Spring can tell it is forced. “Okay. Stay safe.”

“Will do.” She wants to add “I love you” before she hangs up, but stops herself before she can make such a foolish mistake. That being said, her countenance falls with her heart when Winter's end disconnects, leaving her alone once again in the Hell she chose, and goes outside on the back patio where March is waiting.

“Is it done?” asks March.

Spring nods. “Yes.”

They walk towards a motor wagon, and after doing a quick search to make sure no one hopped in, Spring moves a bundle of bags stuffed with band aids, rubbing alcohol and groceries to the floor before taking a seat. Once inside, March slides in the driver seat and starts the wagon, blowing a welcoming burst of hot air on her chilled face. However, not even the warm air can melt the coldness in Spring's heart and eyes, and when they pull out of Birch's yard and go down the alley, she pulls off her red mane to reveal golden locks underneath. Then she removes her glasses and rubs her eyes, letting out an aggravated groan, which prompts March to look at her with concern.

“Ozean did not give the kill order, did he, Anna?” he says.

Spring, also known as Anna Ausstecher, nods disappointingly and rubs her temple as they pass the scorched skeleton of the cathedral. “The Chancellor still refuses to authorize it.” She lifts her eyes up, glaring straight ahead at the hostile mountains with the fires of hate burning through her body. “But if he waits any longer, then I will take it in my own authority and kill Rotes Leinen myself.”