Thirty minutes passed. The mare was clean, yet she still felt dirty. She was led into the waiting room and told to sit until her friends arrived. Less than ten minutes after that, they did. They all had so many questions, so many things they wanted to know; they demanded to go into the room to see the patient, but all they got was:

"We'll let you know."

Dash didn't notice at first, but there were several ponies in the hallway when it first happened. They were all looking at her, staring at the door, the blood. Covering their faces with sorrow, uncertainty, confusion, fear.

Then the police and the Guard was involved, and the crowd dispersed.

Two officers and two guards walked into the room, and when they came back out, they were dragging a stallion along.

And Dash looked straight at him.

The one who nearly killed her friend.

That was him.

She didn't think of anything else.

She flew towards him, nothing but blind fury filling her mind, her voice screeching pure anger.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Twilight and a doctor was quick to pull her away.

But she was only able to get a good kick at his face.

His head flew back, and almost immediately, he tried to fling himself at her, but the officers and guards held him back, threatening to taze or tranquilize him.

The stallion only got three words out before he was dragged out of the building.

"You're next, bitch!"

The double doors slammed shut, and the girls went silent. They quickly saw the stallion's words as a true, dear threat.

But Rainbow? She didn't flinch, she didn't cringe---she didn't look afraid in any seeming way. It was as if she was completely unfazed by the threat.

To her friends, it seemed exactly like that.

To Rainbow...she was nothing but scared shitless. Of course, she had a tough outer shell---she seemed so determined.

But tonight...she was just as scared as ever. If Swift was clever enough to have escaped the law time and time again and still be killing whoever he pleases---what's stopping this guy from doing the same?

For all she knew, he's already run off.

No...no...Don't think about it, she quickly thought, trying to whisk the feelings away.

Eventually, the populace around the door and in the hallways began to quiet down and disperse. While some did remain, hoping something would happen---why would they?---most ponies went back into their assigned rooms with their family members. Accountants, nurses, and doctors did what the few officers and few guards also had done---break up the crowd.

"Let's go, everyone," one officer said, "It's over. Back to work, c'mon."

And back to work they went.

As for the girls, as for Spike, as for anyone who knew him---they all went to the waiting room and did just that.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Four hours they waited. Four. Hours. From ten o'clock in the evening, to two o'clock in the morning, they waited for an answer, for a diagnosis.

For something.

The six girls all sat in comfy chairs, Spike in Twilight's lap. They were quiet and collective, but sleepy. Spike took a while to stop panicking before he could drift off. It was more like he simply tired himself out more than anything else.

Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie had fallen asleep sometime after two-thirty, leaving the other three up and waiting - the sounds of hospital life either boring them or leaving them afraid of hearing any news at all.

Rainbow sat in her chair, silent like the others. She still kept that face, the face that said, "I'm not afraid."

But she was afraid.

Oh---she was very afraid. He could die. This could be the last straw, the nail in his own coffin. He could die in there, and she, nor any other pony or doctor or nurse, wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

For all she knew...he was already dead, a corpse laying on the table, getting colder with every passing moment.

Or maybe---in that hopeful string of luck as it had bestowed him, her, Twilight, and everyone else just two months ago---he survived.

He lived through getting stabbed ten times and bleeding out. Surely, he could survive his throat being slit...right?

...Right?

The fifth hour struck. Three o'clock in the morning came rolling by. The sun would be another two hours to appear over the horizon. Nonetheless, the birds began to chirp, the chickens were more or less ready to awaken whatever sleeping citizens slept.

For Rainbow---for Twilight---for Pinkie---for Spike...they just passed by and waved.

The doors to his room opened in the distance. They didn't hear it, they didn't see it. The hallway was quiet, but the step, step, steps echoed down it. The group didn't notice who it was until they were standing face to face with them.

Twilight looked up and didn't need to say a thing to get up and hold Cobalt. The two rejoiced after several hours away and several hours of unneeded tension. The princess was glad to see him.

Surely, him being here meant something...good...right?

The mare pulled away and immediately jumped at him with questions.

"Is he alright? Is he going to be okay? What happened in there?"

He was quick to calm her down, almost immediately answering her question with a brief smile.

"He's fine. He's stabilized and he's okay."

Though Twilight had been breathing semi-heavily, she and the others were able to at least get a single sigh of near uncontrollable relief and happiness. Rainbow nearly cried, having held in her emotions for seven hours. The others, while almost as emotional as her, controlled themselves.

"It took a while before he were able to stop the bleeding. At first, we...we thought we were going to lose him..."

He took a moment to compose himself.

"...But...but we stopped the bleeding. We got his body to stop thrashing around so much. He's improved since the start, but we need to take a little more time with him before we can be certain he'll be okay without supervision."

"And how long will that take?" Dash piped up. It had its own pint of frustration to it, but she asked a truthful question.

Cobalt wanted to tell her, 'soon,' but all he could say was:

"We don't know."

"How could you not-!"

Dash didn't finish that question. She already asked it more than sixty mornings ago. She stopped herself and slowly apologized to the doctor, before sitting back down in her seat.

She hadn't even realized she got up.

Gladly, for her, Cobalt understood her frustration. He, too, was frustrated at the whole incident. Everyone was frustrated...angry...sad...scared.

They were many things.

But there was only one thing that they could physically do.

Cobalt added to that thought, "My best advice...go on home and rest. Right now, that's the only thing you can do---for me, the other doctors...him, most of all."

They wanted to disagree on it. But in the end, he was only more right than the rest of them. What else could they do, other than just sit here and wait for even more somber news?

Slowly, they all had begun to get up from their chairs and walk to the exit down the hall. First it was Fluttershy, Pinkie's arm comforted around her neck. Rarity and Applejack got up, both giving each other a comforting hug, before they too walked to the exit.

Twilight also got up from her chair, and almost immediately, the discomfort of the wooden chair left her back. It still ached slightly, but less so. She turned to the hallway, ready to leave, following the other four behind them.

But then she turned back, to the chairs.

Rainbow was still there, sitting in the same pose as she had when she sat back down---legs bunched up, hoof under chin, near blank stare.

Twilight looked at her for a moment before saying anything.

"Rainbow," she started, "...c'mon."

The pegasus said nothing at first, not even acknowledging Twilight's stance.

After a moment of brief silence, she responded with a firm voice.

"I'm not leaving him."

Twilight sighed.

"I know you don't want to leave, but...what else can you do?"

"Stop leaving him alone, that's what," she stated.

Twilight wanted to say something else, anything else to stop her from pulling the same stunt she did back in the city. Anything to convince her.

But she had nothing to say, nothing to think of.

Dash spoke again.

"I...I leave him alone...for just a few hours. I'm gone a few hours and some...asshole slits his throat! Why is it that every time I turn my back, something always fucking goes wrong?!"

Twilight wanted to calm her down, get her to stop yelling, at least.

Then she noticed the tears already forming in her eyes.

She had cried enough. The worst she could do was make it any worse than it had been. Even Cobalt, when she looked towards him, slowly motioned Twilight to gently just stop what she was doing.

She didn't hesitate to do so. So as quick as she had come on, she backed off and softly spoke.

"Okay."

The two had exchanged their tearful hugs---Dash more so---and Twilight quickly left.

For a few short moments---moments that felt longer than they truly had been---it was just Dash and Cobalt, standing there alone in the waiting room. There was no conversation, but the sounds of the hospital moving up and about, young and old, living or dying, rang in their ears like mangled melodies. There was the occasional phone ring at the front.

But the two of them were still. Rainbow sat in her seat, staring towards the marble floor and just listening to everything happening around her. Cobalt looked at her, unsure of what to say or what to do next.

Did she even notice him?

Did she even care at this point?

Eventually, though, he did say something.

"I..." he stopped to think. "...I'll let you know if anything else happens."

She nodded quickly but numbly.

"Okay."

Silent again.

Cobalt took another quick look at the mare, before he returned to the room where his patient lay.

Poor girl, the doctor thought as he trotted along, she's been through enough.

He was more right than he had wanted to be. Twilight had informed him of everything they had gone through---from the party no more than two months before, to the incident in the city, to...to just last night. Just when everypony had truly believed things were finally settling down, just one not-so-slick prick jumped straight into traffic, hoping to cause enough of a pile-up to rile everyone.

He could see her slowly breaking, even when she seemed to be getting better. Cobalt was more than familiar with this. A simple smile could be someone melting, deep inside, and no one could ever tell.

Keeping him alive was all that was keeping her...normal.

What could be possibly be better than this?

It was early in the morning in Canterlot. The streets were slowly coming to life with the sounds of shuffling hooves and communicative street-goers. Laughing, talking, arguing, shouting---regardless of the situations, everyone was out and about.

But when it came to the Interrogation Commerce, there was never a moment's rest. Everyone who was taken in was questioned, answered, and treated with the same respect or neglect as their crimes have seen.

Such was the way of a particular stallion. Upon admission early in the night, he was a nopony. No one gave a rat's ass about his name or who he grew up with, who his family was, etc.

All they cared about was why the hell he had snuck into a hospital and attempted to assassinate someone. What importance did that *someone* have that he hated?

The thoughts stopped flowing, and the eyes turned to the door, slowly opening, never creaking. A stallion walked in, police uniform and all. Had to have been in his thirties. Did he have children? Was he married? Or did he live alone?

Just a few questions, but nothing more.

The officer - or was it chief? - sat down in a chair opposite of the failed assassin, who had a faint smirk on his face, but was more or less blank. The chief looked at him, up and down, and quickly noticed the faintness.

"Got a joke you wanna tell us?" the chief asked with his rough voice.

The smirk was wider now. The assassin seemed like he wanted to laugh, even chuckle a bit. But at the same time - it was like he couldn't do any of those. Why was that? What was wrong? What was right?

"Why did you try to kill that stallion?"

The assassin looked at the chief, that smirk never fading, like he was more or less glad to answer---or was it of a different reason?

"He tried to rat out Swift. You don't ever rat out Swift. Never."

The chief looks at the officer, then back to the stallion.

"What connection does that stallion have with this...Swift sonofabitch?"

He didn't answer, only staring at the chief. It was creepy, but it didn't seem to faze him.

"Answer my question, dammit."

The assassin raised an eyebrow only slightly, but he never once turned blank.

The chief growled under his breath.

"How's about a life-time in the Canterlot prison? Hmm? 'Cause let me tell you, that's exactly where you're heading if you don't tell me your goddamn business here!"

The assassin briefly sighed a chuckle, looking down at the table, before looking back up, letting in a sniffle of air.

He spoke up, looking at the chief and those who stood behind him.

"I like it when you try."

The chief was not amused.

"What the hell do you mean 'try'? Try what?"

"C'mooon...You know what I'm talking about. You try to stop ponies like me, you think you won, you get to go home and fuck your wife...that little hive mind of yours, you always think the game belongs to you.

"And that's when you fall over and crack that skull of yours wide open. You didn't win. You don't win. You'll never win. Even when you capture one bad guy, there's always ten more, a hundred more, a thousand more standing right behind him, waiting to get their shot. What makes you think all of them won't succeed at least once?

"Yeah, sure, let's say you're a victim who nearly got his or her head blown off by the bad guy, and the good guys just roll in and stop him at the last moment. You're safe with your family, say justice is served, and you get to sleep another night.

"Then another bad guy follows you home, sneaks into your bed room, and stabs you to death while you're sleeping. He finished the job that the other guy didn't get to finish. Maybe he goes and kills your mother, your father, and maybe your siblings while he's at it. Maybe he sets your house on fire and runs off, a job well done.

"Just when you think you win - you don't. There's always someone in line - ready to move on to stage two."

Silence filled the room as quick as sound. The chief, his officers, said nothing, only staring off in shock. For all they knew, the guy was talking about his own experience. Who was the victor they killed, whose family they killed, whose house they burned down?

Was it real or was it a lie?

Even the chief was afraid to ask, afraid of the answer just waiting for him.

The assassin spoke once more.

"The boss is gonna know about this soon. Real fuckin' soon.

"And when he does...

"He's gonna damn well finish what he started."

Hundreds of miles from Commerce, deep beneath the posh, belittling streets of Manehattan, Swift Shadow was confident. He had been confident for so long, for all these months, maybe even all these years.

Countless hours, countless days of planning, testing, silencing...even killing...for the payoff.

He had killed several ponies, ponies who threatened to stop him, ponies who threatened to kill him.

Every time they failed, he was closer to what he wanted - what he needed.

And the day he waited for seemed like it was here. Finally here. Was it? A couple days more, a couple hours?

He knew it was close.

He was confident.

He was ready to move forward.

Celebration frolicked throughout the workplace. Drinks came around, music blasted, henchmen danced and partied. Their work - years and years of work...

It was finally paying off.

For a good long while before everyone was to get back to work, they all had a hell of a time, singing and thanking each other for the work they had all put themselves through.

Swift sat at the bar. It didn't have its own name, and it was more or less makeshift, but it was the only spot for workers and Swift to have any type of break. Of course, they could have gone up to the surface, but there was always that risk of being caught. With all the work that Swift had stirred up these past two months, it made it just that more difficult to go out for even a breath of fresh air.

But it would be all the more sweeter once they-

A muffled boom shook the entire bar, trapping the current playing song on a loop, and bringing everypony to a complete standstill. There was no time for a question of what it was once they heard the muffled voices follow the boom.

"Go, go, go!"

Just then, every worker in the bar quickly ran out, away from the source. They scattered in several directions. Some were of preparedness and readiness of battle. Others, some who had no experience in the matter, were scared out of their minds, unsure of where to go, who to turn to---what to do.

Many were still out in the open when officers and even members of the ETF---Equestrian Task Force---came barging through the door and storming the bar. Once they had a clear view of the work-area, they screamed at anyone they saw.

"Freeze!"

"Down on the ground!"

"Stop or we'll shoot!"

Very few complied. The ones who did were quick to get on the ground, clearly and visibly shaking in fear. Officers went up to push them to the ground in order to hoofcuff them.

By the time the officers and soldiers stopped and observed, many of the workers were hidden, behind cover. One such officer was given a megaphone, possibly to speak directly to Swift and order his surrender. How would he-

Before he could raise it to his mouth, a lone hidden worker emerged from cover. In one hoof---a revolver. He aimed it to the officers, mainly the lieutenant with the microphone.

Being panicked still, he clearly missed.

But it gave a clear-view answer.

In a click of a hoof, the entire factory turned into a warzone, bullets flying and zooming every which way. Any could compare it to the sound of fireworks going off in your ear. The echoing did the hearing no better favors.

Officers and soldiers screamed, either giving orders or dying in the crossfire, but it was all completely drowned out by the ensuing gunfight. No one knew where to go, what to do, where to shoot, who to shoot.

That was when the gas came out. Several tear gas grenades were thrown in all directions. Within only moments, the entire factory became encased in a cloud of gas. The soldiers were quick to put on their masks. Unicorn officers were quick to shield themselves and others who were unfortunate to not have masks on them.

The lead officer of the group, his uniform bearing the name "Jerker", ordered one sector of his officers to take the right, and another sector to the left. The few that stayed with him went forward.

With the masks and shields available to them, they were able to see clearer and farther in the factory than those without masks, such as Swift's men. Not only were his men aiming through the fog-like substance blind as bats, they were most likely---at this point in time---out cold on the floor, either on the verge or death or dead already.

As Jerker moved along the obstacles in front of him---barricades, wreckage of past fallen equipment, or just other general objects---he could hear one sector shouting the word, "Clear!" indicating none of Swift's men or bodies were found there.

Assuming that they had all somehow escaped somewhere, instead, the other sector yelled, "We've got bodies here, sir! Six dead, one alive!"

"Mask and cuff him!" Jerker yelled.

"Aye, sir!"

The leader moved on. After a few more hoof-steps, the bodies quickly began to appear from cover. Nearly all of them were dead, choked to death by the gas. It was a tactic that was only meant to control crowds, but only in open locations.

Here, in these small corners of the underground, it was a deadly menace.

Worse if ignited.

The officers were quick to act on the still living, either masking or shielding them, before cuffing them. One died mid-cuff, his body becoming suddenly limp in the officers' grasps. They bothered not to carry him out and simply left him on the floor, returning to the leader.

For another minute of searching, the gas slowly began to lift and fade, until it was declared safe enough for the officers to remove their shields or masks. The amount of bodies visible was much clearer this time around.

They counted nearly thirty bodies within a couple of minutes. Two of them survived, barely.

Jerker found his too.

The infamous Swift Shadow, laying dead, blood pooling at his mouth, eyes half open, half shut---blank and empty.

Dead. Slain.

Success.

Even as they stand surrounded by corpses, they cheered, victorious at their missions. Relieved they were all to see another day.

Jerker opened his radio and turned it on. He radioed the Commerce of Canterlot.

After a brief transmission, the chief at Commerce smiles at the assassin, who looks on with a blank, but interested, face.

"I-I'm sorry, Jerker, what was that? Come again?"

It was clear he was taunting the assassin with his words.

Who didn't seem to mind, regardless.

"We found the bastard, Swift Shadow. Looks like he's kicked the bucket!"

A short couple seconds of seeming laughter from Jerker, and the signal stops, normal. The chief puts his radio down on the table in front of him, looks up at the assassin, and smiles, even feeling a small chuckle come on.

"I guess your boss ain't gonna finish what he started after all, now, is he?"

It goes silent for a few moments. At first, the assassin stares with a blank face. Though slightly interested, he doesn't smile, frown, or show signs of worry for his friends.

Come a few seconds later, and he very faintly, and only very faintly, gives a smirk.

"Not even one minute later, and you're already forgetting what I just told you."

"Oh, no, I do remember what you said. It's just that your boss is dead, so basically, it's all fucking worthless now, isn't it?"

The assassin smiles this time around, his taunts falling on deaf ears.

"Do you know, chief, exactly what sits under that shithole that you call Manehattan?"

The chief doesn't respond, but instead listens on, keeping his smile, as if interested what little stories the stallion has to offer this time.

"You've got your water, your heating, your electricity. You've got every commodity you need to keep that place, this place, every place running. It's all connected, from there, to here, to Appleoosa, and to that smug, little shit-town Ponyville down there."

At this point, the chief seemed bored, wondering where he was going with this.

"And then...you've got your Methane that keeps your houses and your offices warm, keeps your dick from falling off in the middle of the night. Ignorant pieces of shit like you take advantage of such commodities. Granted, you take precautions to be damn sure that said Methane doesn't set the whole damn country on fire because somepony decides to have a smoke in the sewer.

"BUT...what if..."

He stopped for a moment. Is he...laughing?

"...What if I told you...that we knew about this?"

The chief's smile faded, looking up towards the other officer standing beside the assassin.

"What the hell are you goin' on about, boy?"

A gasp of laughter and the assassin spoke.

"We built our fuckin' factory in a Methane Treatment plant for the---ha ha---for the very reason I'm sittin' in this chair!"

The chief wondered what it meant, why it was so funny.

It didn't take a genius to realize why he was telling him this, and almost in an instant, horror filled his mind, his eyes widened, his breathing fastened.

Another gasp.

"You don't win, boy! You don't w-"

The chief was quick to strike the assassin across the face, causing him and the chair he sat in to fall to his side. That didn't stop him from laughing silently. At this point, the chief had a look of worry and pure fear on his face. Without hesitating, he grabbed the radio and called Jerker.

"Jerker, for the love of fuck, get out of there!"

Interference prevented his words from reaching Jerker entirely. The chief yelled and threw his radio at the wall, smashing it into pieces.

The chief was shaking, nerve wracked by the assassin's words. He knew he was right. He was more than right all the same. But was it only a matter of time before something happened? How much would the damage be? How many would die? How far would it go before it was controlled? Where would it happen?

Then a beep halted his thoughts. At first, he believed it came from the radio. But he was quick to realize it was broken, smashed and shattered.

And the other officers had no radios on them for the moment, only their weapons.

And then he looked down, and the beeping happened again, clearer.

It was coming from the sonofabitch on the floor---the one still laughing, even after a punch to the skull.

The beeping increased with each passing second. Beep-----Beep----Beep---Beep--

The chief quickly ran to the assassin and opened up the shirt he wore.

His eyes went wide.

"OUT! OUT! EVERYPO-"

Too late.

Beneath Manehattan, Jerker and his men were cleaning up the site, dragging bodies and seemingly piling them up in a single pile. The now conscious criminals, hoof-cuffed, were seated, ready to be taken away.

Jerker tried to contact the chief back in Canterlot after hearing a brief signal, but was unable since then.

"Hello? Chief?"

After a few more times, he went, "Dammit," before placing his radio back into his belt.

He looked around, asking any of the officers if they could contact Canterlot. They mentioned that they've tried, but also failed. They paid no mind, somewhat blaming the underground, simply, and went back cleaning up what was left of the short-lived battle.

Jerker took the time to look at the immense size of the apparent factory. There were multiple balconies, doorways that led to corridors throughout the area, and even shanty looking huts built onto what was there. A few of the lights throughout the building were busted out or left unchanged, potentially for years.

How did ponies not know they were down here?

...Or...maybe they did know. It would explain the missing cases. For all he and his officers knew, the bastards killed them all, one by one, to cover this whole scheme of theirs up, to prevent the public from ever finding out.

I bet they bribed those poor families too, said Jerker as he continued to look on.

But while the sheer size of the place was overwhelming in itself---it was nothing compared to that...that---ooh, that horrid odor!

Almost instantly, jerker and his men reacted like one of their own suddenly let out a rotten one. The smell quickly hit all corners of the factory. They asked themselves what it could possibly be. Moldy food? Sour milk spilled open?

"Smells like fucking rotten eggs," said one officer as he covered his snout to block the stench.

"Where the hell's it coming from?"

And then---out of nowhere---the two cuffed stallions started to laugh. It was quiet at first, but it grew slightly louder. All of the officers in the factory, even Jerker, turned to look at them. Even with gas having nearly choked them to death, they were still able to give hearty laughs.

"What's so funny?" Jerker had asked them.

They both smiled, but didn't look at any of them, only to the floor or around.

"You guys are dead, man," one said as he was catching his breath to let out another laugh.

"So fuckin' dead," the other said.

The officers sat and looked at each other, confused and unsure.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" one officer looked at them with angry and frustrated eyes, as if believing they were only up to something.

The two of them didn't answer immediately, only kept laughing, which eventually left the officers squirming in a seemingly uncomfortable manner. It honestly scared them.

One of them spoke.

"Do you have...any idea where the hell you even are right now?"

And he looked dead at Jerker, right into his eyes.

The leader looked again at the place. And nearly right away, he began to piece it all together. The heat, the architecture---the smell, above it all.

And it came to him.

They were in a Methane Treatment facility.

And there was a fucking leak.

Jerker was quick to react.

"OUT! Everypony get the FUCK out NOW! It's Methane! It's fucking Methane!"

The officers were just as quick. Some grabbed their equipment. Others were quicker to simply leave it. Officers in the higher levels immediately ran for the stairwells to meet with Jerker and the others, who were running their way to the exits, or whatever exit was more accessible---where they themselves had entered.

They initially chose to leave the cuffed stallions there to suffer any potential fate.

But as they reached the entrance where they had broken through, they stopped in their tracks.

A single pegasus worker of Swift's stood in their way.

In his right wing, ready to use in a heartbeat---a cigarette lighter.

Even the single of sparks would light the entire area up. And, with what they could have planned elsewhere, nearly the entire country with them. All eyes were focused on the stallion, his movements, and the lighter he held in his wing. Silence filled the air, apart from the breathing of each individual officer or pony, and the whistling of constantly entering Methane.

Everyone was frozen.

And the stallion spoke.

"Looks like I win."

He smiled for a brief moment, particularly at Jerker.

Then it faded, and he flipped open the lighter.

"Game over."

Almost immediately, a single officer fell to his knees, down to the floor, in tears and sobbing.

"Pleee-ease...*gasp*--don't do thi-i-is..!"

The single stallion looked on, not intrigued, not amused, and not pitiful, either.

The teary stallion gasps again.

"I've got a f-family! I've got a wi-ife and a baby bo-o-o-oyyy...! Don't do thi-i-i-i-iiisss....!"

Many of the officers looked to their own, others to the one holding the lighter. All of them had tears in their eyes, all silently begging for him not to do it. So many seconds passed, it was like minutes had only gone by. Hearts beat fast, breathing slowed down, the air grew hot for many reasons.

They were ready to plead.

And then they looked at the stallion, as he stared on to the father laying on the ground, begging for mercy. His head tilted only slightly, and his mouth cracked into a smile. And that smile quickly gave them that glimmer of hope. He saw it, what it was as a father. They were going to be okay.

Then he spoke.

"Tough shit."

A mile or so outside the bustling city was a small town community. It was no more popular than its local burger joint or ice-cream shop. The town itself was quiet and peaceful. Children lay asleep in their beds for the next morning to arise, husbands and wives stay up late to watch a romantic film, teens sneak out for a quick bite.

One stallion, an old coot by some, sat on his home balcony, leaning back in a chair and inhaling the sweet bliss of nicotine. He knew it would kill him one day, but that day was a long ways off.

Next to him, a beautiful melody played behind him on a record player.

♫Address Unknown, not even a trace of you~♫

The air was cool this evening. Not even the dogs disturbed the silence.

He breathed a steady pace, looking on towards the immense skyline of Manehattan. He truly was a lucky stallion to have been gifted such a beautiful sight.

Even as a flash bright enough to blind one engulfed the city itself, he dared not look away.

The flash immediately rendered gasps from ponies who were awake at the time to see or notice the sky being lit up.

Of course, then there was the powerful shockwave. Rippling through the neighborhood, windows were smashed, wagons were pushed around and prompted their alarms, ponies all around screamed in horror as their eardrums either ruptured or endured immense pain, they flew backwards, or---in the unlucky chance---someone died by possible causes. Trees, their leaves, their branches all pushed away from the city, bustling and disturbed.

The sound was enough to wake everyone.

The stallion still sat in his chair, watching the city, which quickly began to erupt in smaller explosion after explosion, fire racing through the distance like napalm from an aircraft. Booms filled the air, ponies began to run, fly left and right, up and down.

But the song still played.

♫I should have known there'd come a day when you'd be gone~♫

Then there came the shaking. The ground started to shake, the streets started to shake, the trees, the wagons, the ponies. His house! It messed with the song.

♫Addres-Addres-Addres~♫

In moments, the city of Manehattan was aflame, from the corner of Battery to the Park and beyond, even going further.

And the fire came out from the river like a geyser. Moments later, it formed a wall of fire and smoke that raced across the surface towards the little community.

The song stopped skipping and played again.

♫Oh, how could I be so blind?♫

The potholes all over the town, in the streets, exploded in fireballs, the covers flying a considerable amount into the air and landing on anything and anyone. A misfortune to anyone. Children woke and cried and screamed into the night, clearly frightened.

The stallion took another smoke of a cigarette, even bothering to pour himself a drink of whiskey. The neighborhood felt like an earthquake was rupturing through, tearing everything in its possible path. The fire blew its way out of the holes akin to a flamethrower, and soon enough, trees and grass were burning along. A wagon or two explodes, exposed to the immense heat.

The wall of fire and smoke from the burning Manehattan grows larger and closer to the town, and the shaking grows larger. Portraits, paintings, or other decorations begin to topple and fall down. A burning tree falls over and crashes into a house next door, and the house burns along.

In the distance, towards the city, a loud roar occurs. Barely, one could see a large building, preferably an office building, collapsing to the ground. Explosions continue to rupture. If one looked in the distance on all sides, nearby towns went up in flames too, one as a mushroom cloud.

Ponies ran through the streets, driving wagons or panicking. Pegasi flew off, hoping to escape death that way.

The music stops, the record player falling to the quaking floor and smashing into pieces.

The wall of fire is moments away from striking the once quiet town.

The stallion is unfazed, as if he expected it.

He takes a drink from his cup of whiskey. When that is done, he smokes one last time, exhaling it, but the sheer wind-force of the fire blows it back towards him. Again, he minds not.

The wall had to have been twenty hooves high, perhaps thirty by the time it neared the neighborhood. Explosions, near and far, plagued the land. Roars as metal twists and turns on all sides grow loud.

Finally, the stallion speaks.

"Well, shit."

Moments later, his home, his neighborhood---his town is engulfed by the fire, set all aflame. Screams of ponies, of children, quickly silence as the fire puts them out.

Within merely a few minutes, most of Manehattan and several towns near it lay damaged, ruined, or burning.

The smoke rises high.

Screams fall flat.

The wild of it all spreads on.

Author's Notes:

Am I a whore for being so slow on this story? Perhaps.

But aren't we all?

I rest my case. Enjoy.

EDIT 4/20/16: I'm a dirty whore for being slow. Can guys be whores? A question as old as time.

EDIT 8/1/16: Holy shit, I was not expecting to take this long. But a lot of real life things have plagued me (and video games, that too), so I decided to finish this up before college begins and eats me up. Also, I know you'll be having questions (for good reasons) that I'll try and answer soon. First off, I'd like to state that, holy balls, this chapter has been in the works since February. Why did I take so long, you ask? Video games ruin me, college is next week for me, and listening to songs that remind me that high school and summer is over is not helping.

You're probably also wondering what the hell is actually happening. This was something that I wasn't originally intending to do as part of the story. It was originally going to be the explosion in Commerce, Swift is dead, and the world goes back to normal while you heal. Was I intending to create a runaway Methane fireball as a result? No, but you can thank the show Preacher for that.

And if you're wondering on when the next chapter will come---it will come, of course. I never leave a story hanging or cancel it unless it sucks or I simply get bored of it. Then again, even though I feel bored of this story sometimes, I can't let it go. So I won't

But yes, the next chapter is really unknown for the moment. I'm thinking of possibly working on it this week and whenever I'm free next week, as I'll be spending it packing what I'm bringing up to college (3 1/2 hours away, god damn). BUT, I am setting a goal to get it out (a prediction) before September. Who knows, maybe this kind of thing will also help the school year go fast too. :D

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope the path it's taken doesn't put you off from it. It will not turn into an apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic story, if that's what you're thinking.