---

How did I get myself into this mess?

Not even a day ago, I was still in Equestria, trying to figure out where exactly my life went terribly wrong in an effort to keep myself sane. Though it's true that I was about to leave Equestria behind to see a country I had never seen before and was ordered against my volition to accomplish a mission that would most likely result in my untimely and unremarkable demise, at least I was still alive to consider the absurdity of the situation. Sure, this wasn’t what one would exactly call “high living” but it sure beats being dead in my opinion.

And although I never truly made peace with that sobering reality, I had learned to swallow the fear for long enough to at least stay functional. That isn’t to say that I wasn’t aware of my own fallacies - the fear would be debilitating enough to kill me if I let it. It wasn’t easy for me to learn that particular lesson, to live with my faults and be expected to do good with them.

Not like I had a choice in the matter.

And yet, despite the obvious consequences, it was nevertheless arduous, to have to swallow your existential dread when you are faced with another injunction on top of the already gargantuan pile of bullshit you have to endure.

And that was exactly what was expected of me.

Standing in the cistern of the Bastion, in front of a lone table that was littered with a variety of equipment and weapons - Grenades, Binoculars, Gas Masks, etc. - I found my mind reeling back the last twelve hours on a loop.

From the moment I had gotten here, death had reared its ugly head out on numerous occasions. And every time thus far, whether by luck or by some divine interference, we had managed to avoid its unwavering grasp for the time being.

Staring at the equipment in front of me knowing what I have to do, I was fairly certain that I was about to break that winning streak.

Yay me.

“This is the best we have to offer you,” A deer spoke to me, “only take what you can carry.”

I nodded along as my eyes were fixed on the table. My mind, however, was elsewhere.

I thought back to my night in Vanhoover. How many times during that night had I almost died? The memories overwhelmed me; The brutal close-quarters fight in the alleyway; the raid on City Hall; The close call with the tank…

Shaking my head to disperse the thoughts, I turned my attention back to Marja, standing in front of my squad. She gazed at me knowingly, nodding once as we made eye contact. Everyone in the squad (apart from Storm Cloud) watched me with the intent of not coming along.

Should I feel crossed by that? An indignant part of me felt betrayed, though it seemed illogical. I chose not to linger on that thought for too long.

“It would be best for you to travel light. You will have to be nimble if you wish to escape them on the chance you are discovered.” Marja suggested, idly examining a Gas Mask on the table.

“And how likely is that?” I asked tersely.

“A strong possibility, given that your coat color will stand out like an eye sore. Cling to the clouds as much as you can, and only move when you know it is safe.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered to myself.

Taking inventory of what I had, I emptied all pockets and pouches of anything I didn’t need or wanted to carry. My rifle and all of its ammo were discarded as I replaced it with a more compact SMG of a foreign design. It was basic enough with some of the others I have seen from back home; the curved magazine was fed into the side of the receiver and could be ejected with a click of the release handle, allowing a quicker reload time.

I slung the gun around my torso and fed the magazines into my pockets, an immense weight sagging me down. Not just from the equipment, mind you. There was a noticeable solemn mood across the room as everyone realized what was going to happen, and what would likely ensue after my departure: My demise.

It was a good time to not only take inventory of what tools and materials there were but also a good time for an absolute, personal moral inventory of one’s self as well. A time of contemplation. Among the items I had were the books I had taken with me, which earned some surprise from my squadmates and from the Olenians as well. Though none objected to the idea of me having them on me in the first place.

As I tried to shake the heavy thoughts from my mind and tally inventory, I noticed Syringe move in closer out of the corner of my eye with a worried expression.

“How is your leg feeling?”

... Oh, right.

It had completely slipped my mind that I had been shot in the leg earlier until she pointed it out. Her anesthetic was good at its job.

“I don’t feel any pain right now if that’s what you’re asking,” I answered.

Syringe gazes at the bandages wrapped around me with a grimace. “It needs to be redressed before you head out.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” I absently replied, hoping for some distraction.

“Whatever you need to say or do before you head out, make it swift.” Marja reminds me. “We are on a tight itinerary.”

My throat tightened as I felt enslaved to fate. There was no point in delaying the inevitable I suppose.

“It’ll be quick. I assure you.” Syringe answered patiently.

“It better be. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.” Rain commented. “No offense intended.”

“Some taken…” Marja muttered to herself.

“This only has to be done by one pony?” I asked aloud again, for what felt like the umpteenth time to these deer. “I very much would rather not have to do this alone.” I anxiously protested, feeling my body shake slightly as Syringe examined my bandage and replaced it with haste.

“I wish I could, Ponit, I really do. But adding any more to your already conspicuous presence would make you likey to be spotted by the Changelings on the ground, and any who happen to be flying by.” Marja replied earnestly.

Great, so not only are the odds against me seemingly impossible, I was forced to do it alone because otherwise, death was a certainty.

… How did I get myself into this mess?

“There are a lot of clouds in the sky. Hug them for cover as often as you can when you advance and reconnoiter the area around the Palace Grounds. You’ll know it when you see it, it’s the oldest group of buildings that were deliberately untargeted from bombardment.” Marja reminded me.

“And this camera,” I grabbed the aforementioned device with wingtip, “This thing is supposed to help capture the evidence that's on the ground?”

“Try to capture anything that looks important and deadly against us, so we can take a gander at what we’re dealing with.”

“Right… easy enough… I just have to not die.” I mumbled grimly.

“... I am sorry.” Marja somberly replies.

That actually got me to look her in the eye from my dejected state. She looked genuinely guilty, and concerned for my well-being.

“If it were any other way, one of us would have gone in your stead. But the council has decided, and… we are to never go against its will when their decisions are set in stone.”

“I understand,” I lied,

“I will do what I can.”

I was going to die.

“There has to be… something, right?” Syringe pipes up.

All of us collectively look at her simultaneously.

“I mean, we can’t just assume she’s going to succeed, given the risks right? Isn’t there something your deerfolk have that can help us?”

“Most of our scavenging efforts have resulted in bare necessities when it comes to what we’ve actually acquired and not scrapped. Most of their special equipment is safeguarded by Jaeger forces.”

… Scavenged. My eyes drift toward Rain Drop.

“Are you sure?” Brass asks off to the side. “There isn’t anything you can spare?”

“I know who can spare something,” I spoke aloud for all to hear.

A flash of remembrance glints in his eyes as he narrows them towards me.

“... What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why.” I accused knowingly as I trotted up to him.

“I don’t know why-”

“Then you are a liar.”

“What is she talking about?” Brass was the first to speak up.

“Rain Drop found a Chameleon Cloak from the Changelings, and he pockets it for himself. And I’m willing to bet that he is going to take that lie to the grave if it means keeping it for himself.” I growled the last word out through my gritted teeth.

Rain, however, seemed remarkably composed. He had no visible shift in his expression, which could only be described as “neutrally angry.” I chose to take that as a sign for me to keep going.

“... But no, I guess I must be wrong, huh?” I challenged, earning a hard blink from him.

“Otherwise, Rain would just be like how everyone else he knew ever would be: Dead.”

The last word hung in the air as the silence became deafening. Rain’s frown burrowed into his face as he continued to stand his ground.

“I guess you’re smart enough to realize that you’re a coward.”

Thwack!

“FUCK YOU!”

He barely got the bellow out of his mouth as several deer tackled him to the ground to physically restrain him. All the while, he was cursing and thrashing about with fervorous resistance.

Syringe helped me up to my hooves as I wiped the copper-tasting blood from my face. He managed to cut my cheeks pretty well. The strike came at me so fast I barely saw Rain lunge at me from his position to deliver it.

One of the deer folk eventually had to physically bind Rain’s hooves together like he was cattle, and promptly disarmed him afterward.

Marja was the one who personally took Rain’s gun from him. “... Well. That happened,” she remarked, almost comically.

As they began to search him for any more potential weapons, one of them pulls out the Shadow Black Cloak that was folded away in one of his vest pockets. Its exterior was a little wrinkled and worn, but it still shimmered with Changeling Magic.

The Olenian immediately tossed it away in disgust, hissing like a cat.

“I can feel its magic… It’s tainted,” she spoke in Ponish. “It’s not natural at all.”

“Yes…” Marja agreed, reaching down with a hoof to inspect its shimmering material. “That is definitely a Chameleon Cloak.”

“Where did he find it?” one of the other deer spoke up.

“He killed a jaeger for it, presumably.” Marja guessed. “Unless you would like to correct me, hm?” Marja asked Rain, leaning down into his face.

He spat in her face in response.

THWUMP!

The kick sent by Marja plunged Rain into an airless coughing fit for a few minutes. It took him quite a while for him to breathe again.

Marja looked at Brass questioningly, as if the former was awaiting permission from the latter.

“... Apprehend him.” she hesitantly orders with a curt nod.

“Done,” Marja answers swiftly, nodding to two of the Deer surrounding him. As he was being dragged away by the arms, he gave up thrashing and decided to start screaming instead.

“Fine, that's it! Lock me up then, I guess you got your wish after all Brass! Just like how you killed Misty and Pebbles over at the Shire! Well, guess what? You win! You fucking win, you murderer!” He screams one last time as he is dragged from view into the direction of the infirmary.

As he disappeared further into the bastion to be housed off to… somewhere (I assumed a dungeon or jail cell) Marja let out an exhausted sigh. I turned to look at Brass, who stood stoically as she watched Rain being carted off with a grimace. The ostentatious display left everyone dazed and confused.

“... So.” Dominoes suddenly spoke up from within the crowd, examining the Chameleon Cloak in his hooves. “He went through all that trouble and fussed all that much… for some kind of coat?” he asked dumbfounded.

“Not just any coat,” Marja switched topics. “A Chameleon Cloak grants the user partial invisibility depending on where they are located, and what environment they are blending into. This allows the user to blend into bushes in forests, dunes in deserts, rubble in ruined city blocks, and probably much more.”

“... Neat,” Dominoes affirmed, gently setting it on the table, “I guess that will help Sunshine with her mission then, huh?”

“It certainly will,” Marja answered for me, “it will allow her to be able to blend into her surroundings seamlessly. This will help her get closer to her goal, and survive the trek back.”

“... Then it’s settled,” Brass announced. “We have a reason to do this and now we have the means to get it done.”

Brass’s eyes turn to me. In autopilot, my body stiffed and tensed up as it stood rigid in front of her.

“Sunshine, you are all we got on this. Can we trust you to do this?”

My intuitions told me to reply with a “Yes Ma’am” and be done with it. Yet my instincts are telling me that this is suicidal. And I was caught in between the two like a whiplash of indecision.

And, again, that immense pressure around my heart returned and threatened to suffocate me. All eyes were on me as they eagerly awaited my response.

Inexplicably, there was this imperceivable weight saturating the air I was breathing in as I contemplated what is most likely to be the most important moment of my life so far.

Dozens of questions flooded my head.

Do I challenge fate? Should I charge to face this head-on? Do I submit to my cowardice? Do I even have a chance to succeed? To make it back alive?

What would happen should I fail? Would I be punished?

... Something.

Something pressed me onward. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was. But it was as if the very air around me turned static. As if the world itself had stopped moving at that moment in time.

As if my survival became the Arbiter of Destiny, beckoning me forward to at least try to obtain this slim, but attainable possibility. Barring that thought, I had no other choice. It was either I succeed, or I die.

So I chose to try. To try to live.

“I will do what I can.” I nodded firmly.

---

Unsealing the sewer grate above my head, I took a moment to listen intently for any intruders.

Peeking over and assuring myself the coast was clear, I gingerly climbed out of the hole and emerged on the war-torn streets of Hjortland once more. Being away from the sun for a while caused me to go a little blind in the eyes from the brightness. Once my eyes readjusted, I found myself in the middle of an alleyway pinched between two brick walls from buildings in a dead end. Flying upward to a nearby roof still intact, I had a good view of the cityscape around me.

The distant din of dogged resistance was heard across the city as the battle continued. Columns of smoke billowed past several indiscernible shapes of cumulous that hid the sun. Beyond that and the dilapidated rooftops, there wasn’t much to look at.

Scanning the horizon around me, I eventually found a structure in the distance that stood out among the rest. It was Opulent and Sumptuous, with the right amount of Audacity to it as the Brass domes of the Palace Towers could be still seen glistening from where I stood.

My target was about a kilometer or so away. And from what I can hear within the sounds of combat, it sounds like the battle was still a long way away from the Palace Grounds. Whatever the Changelings have inside, they definitely don’t want anyone else getting even close to it.

And I was about to charge head first into the wolf’s den by my lonesome.

Slinging my saddlebags off, I unfolded the Chameleon Cloak that was tucked away and snapped the button around my barrel. I can feel the very air around me turn somewhat static, making the hairs on my coat stand on end as goosebumps plagued my limbs.

Snapping it in place and pulling the hood over my head, I can see the Changeling Magic hermetically sealed within the fabric began to shift the color spectrum. It morphed from a Shadowy Black to a Brickish Brown to blend in with the roof I was standing atop of.

I let out a whistle. From a distance, as long as I huddled myself within the cloak and stayed still, it was imperceivable to the naked eye that there was somepony here. As long as I was motionless and in the right environment, I was practically invisible.

I suddenly started to fancy my chances a little more. Which was definitely a boon because I need all the confidence I can get to charge head-first into the heart of the Garrison. Eyeing a particularly large cloud drifting Northbound, I quickly took off in a steep ascension. Bursting through the other side and sealing up the hole took about 10 seconds, and I was soon laying atop a cloud as still as I can be.

Thankfully, the Cloak itself seems to consciously understand that it was trying to blend into clouds, and thus its color spectrum shifts to a Titanium White soon after. Peering over the edge, I can see Hjortland beneath me in its dilapidated and derelict state. Not many Changelings were moving about from the ground, but I can see some squads flying towards the battle in the distance. I decided to keep my head down until I was close to my destination.

“Okay Changeling Magic, don’t fail me now.”

---

Hjortland Palace was a castle transformed into a fortress.

The cloud I had initially landed on had drifted Northbound close enough for me to find a Stratocumulus patch to hide in. All the clouds were drifting Northbound, which was a boon for me. For the majority of the time, I only dared to move when I was absolutely sure I wouldn’t be spotted (Which I could never truly be fully certain of) and only when the two clouds I was jumping from and towards were no farther than about ten paces away.

At the most, it took about 15 minutes for me to reach the airspace above the palace grounds. Burrowing a hole in the cloud patch using my innate Pegasi Magic, I felt my eyes gradually begin to widen as I took in the scene before me.

The Castle itself was not built initially to withstand an assault, from what the Olenians referenced. It was designed to be as opulent and grandiose as possible, but not to withstand siege or an attack. It was in no small part that the Olenians factored this one, critical fact into their reasoning for their surrender when they faced and lost to the Changelings years ago.

It was also what the Olenians were placing their bets on for their gambit to take back the Palace, and thus liberate the heart of the city. An ambitious, if not audacious goal to accomplish.

But the Bugs certainly did a good job of fortifying everything that could be fortified. There was a large patch of grass-covered dirt from a garden that had since then been ruptured by the shovels from Changeling Sappers. Machine Gun Bunkers, Mortar Emplacements, and Concrete Pillboxes to face the various streets and intersections now stand in what used to be a sanctuary of flora and fauna. Not to mention the rows of trenches, sandbags, razor wire, and minefields to navigate on the ground.

There was another longer, more narrow-looking patch of grass stretching in front of the luxurious-looking Palace as well, sandwiched in between two narrow streets. These two roads lead to the palace grounds northbound and towards two T-Intersections to the south, the latter of which divert East and West behind several blocks of buildings that were spared from destruction.

This narrow patch of grass was fortified with sandbags and razor wire, but there were also craters in the streets that looked like they were there for years. Some loose stones fill the bottom of these craters, and they were caked in dust. The number of both Changelings and Changeling fortifications was low on the southern side. A number that would surely increase as they got closer to the Castle. And as for the Castle itself, it too was fortified to the best of their abilities. Sandbags stack against the windows leaving only a small slit at the top for defenders to shoot through. Razor wire surrounded the immediate perimeter which was also covered in grassy dirt, save for the pavement that led to the front doors. The latter of which was also likely to be fortified. The rooftops had sandbags stacked around the edges to support AA emplacements on the roof for potential threats in the air.

And that wasn’t counting on what was inside.

It was an immense stronghold that seemed insurmountable. I felt a queasy sensation in my stomach after assessing the Oleninan's odds of success. It would be a slaughter for both sides.

But it wasn’t my job to judge the odds of the battle. My job was reconnaissance.

So I started to take Pictures. The Polaroid that I was given was not of the highest quality, but it would have to do. Three were taken upon the front entrance of the Palace and its perimeter, two more on the roof, and five more were taken on the Garden Grounds.

I carefully stowed each printed photo into my vest pockets. Feeling my mission was complete, I decided now was the best time to vacate the airspace. Hopping from cloud to cloud, I continued my way southbound. The problem was; while the clouds drifting Northbound was a boon for me to get to the Palace, it was a bit of a problematic nuisance for me when I was trying to leave.

I had made about six jumps across the narrow garden in front of the entrance when I heard frantic shouting below me that seized my muscles and forced them to stop. Feeling my heart race, I carefully peeked through another hole burrowed in the cloud to the ground below. I saw several Changelings on the ground milling about.

One of them was looking directly at me.

I quickly closed the hole of the cloud and sat still, debating my options, and contemplated if they had spotted me.

SNAP!

The bullet whizzing past my head answered that question for me as I jolted backward. This was followed by more shouting down below as I began to frantically stand up and unfurl my wings. Another bullet snaps by, and my fight-or-flight instincts kick in.

There was no time to put on the Chameleon cloak to hide, so in this case, it was flight.

I took off with as much speed as I could physically muster, flapping my wings as fast as I could while I dove around several clouds toward the ground at a slight decline. This time the bullets were whizzing by much more frequently as more and more guns were firing at me. Diving down between and around several clouds, I saw the skyline of an apartment block approaching closer and closer.

Thwack!

The force of a bullet striking my abdomen knocked all the air out of me, and I spun wildly out of control as the ground descends closer to me dangerously. I desperately attempt to realign myself at the last second, gliding my wings and trying to land. The pain of the bullet was almost impossible to ignore as I saw the street perpendicular to me getting closer and closer.

Stretching my hooves towards the ground, they slid along the asphalt painfully for about a half second or so before I lost friction and began to tumble and roll painfully along the pavement.

I came to a full stop after flipping over the ground about four times.

Groaning, wheezing, desperately trying to inhale oxygen, it took me what felt like ages to get back on my hooves. All the while my survival instincts were telling me to run. Painfully so, I stood up back on my feet and began to gallop away from the Palace and inside a building next to me.

Laying low, and listening for the sounds of Changeling voices that never came to find me, I took a moment to open my uniform and examine my injury.

To my astonishment, the bullet was still there.

Attached to my supple coat, and yet, it didn’t penetrate the skin.

Pulling it off of me, I winced in pain as a large, purple welt of a bruise took its place. Definitely will be feeling that for a few days.

But… How was I alive? I should be dead. That bullet should’ve went inside deeper, shouldn’t it? Was it faulty ammunition?

Patting myself for anything that was damaged, I felt something hard, and stiff inside my vest pocket. Something I had completely forgotten was there until I had pulled it out for me to see.

My book. And planted squarely in the center was a singular bullet hold, burrowing deeper into the pages and all the way out through the other side of the hardcover.

When did… How did I forget to leave this behind?

It dawned on me like a freight train slamming into me that my life was spared because four inches of paper and leather were all that separated me from that bullet and certain death.

It was… too much. Everything about today just caught up to me at that moment. Between the absurdity of why I was here, the circumstances I found myself in with this awful city, the number of close calls; the amount of time I had spent here seemed eternal.

And yet, I had been here for only a few hours.

I chortled. Then it turned into a chuckle. Then a belly laugh.

My life was saved because of a Book.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the insanity of it all. It was just too surreal. By all accounts, this shouldn’t be real.

… And yet, here I sit.

Here I remain. And I am living proof that it is all real.

My laughter seized up instantly upon making this realization. A suffocating sadness soon took its place.

I looked around at where I was at.

… Some kind of a shop. A bakery it looks like. The glass counters that contained pastries and other bake delicacies were all vacant of their prized possessions.

And I was sitting alone in it. In a place that used to host mirth and satiation. In a place that used to spark joy.

Now it’s just a war-torn ruin.

Feeling tears well up in my eyes eventually snapped me out of my stupor, as I realized now was not the time to get emotional. The wolves were hunting me, and I am not out of the woods yet so to speak.

Peeking out to make sure it was clear, I found myself still alone. Leaving the book behind and taking off further south, I found the same four-way intersection that Brass and the others were standing on when we first reunited. The sewer grate that we had fled to was still there, all sealed up.

I could have taken any sewer grate, for granted, but this one was the closest to the Bastion. And I at least remembered the directions of where to go from there.

Turning my torch on that was attached to my chest, I then sealed the grate over my head and descended into the sewers once more.

---

Navigating the labyrinthian canals of the underground sewer system was actually harder than I gave it credit for. But eventually, I found the doors leading to the Bastion.

Three knocks, a pause, two knocks, another pause, and one knock later, and the door finally opened, revealing a gruff-looking deer.

I stood in place as he waved the same crystal staff over my head and waited for it to chime green. When it did, he visibly relaxed.

“Were you followed?” He asked in rough-sounding Ponish.

“If I was, don’t you think you would be dead by now?”

He raised an eyebrow at that.

“Sigh… No, I wasn’t followed. I staked out before rendezvousing here.”

He took a second to stare me squarely in the eyes before nodding once and stepping aside. Trotting through the door and hearing it close behind me, I saw all eyes staring at me.

Everyone stopped talking almost instantly as they heard the door close and saw me standing by my lonesome. I saw Marja standing amongst the crowd, looking stunned that I survived seemingly unscathed.

“I lived,” I announced atonally, loud enough for all to hear. “And I got what you are looking for.” I locked eyes with Marja.

Her lips creased into a shocked, but genuine smile.

“Sunshine?” A voice called out as I saw a Grey Pegasus scoot through the crowd. Eventually she stopped cold as she locked eyes with me. “Sweet Celestia’s flaming ovaries, you actually made it!” She guffaws in astonishment.

I couldn’t help but smile back as I pulled out the Chameleon Cloak. “I wouldn’t be without this thing.”

The rest of my squad; Brass, Dominoes, Morning Dew, and Pumpkin Patch, eventually shuffled through the crowd towards me. All of them were smiling and laughing, with a few Olenians even joining in as well. All of them congratulated me, patting me on the whither for a job well done.

“I’ll be damned, I didn’t think you were gonna make it back to be completely honest.”

“Nor did I for a minute there,” I replied honestly. “I hope nothing bad happened while I was out?”

“Other than Rain’s incessant yelling, no. All has been quiet.” Syringe answered for me.

“Still unsure how to deal with that dilemma…” Brass muttered aloud.

“All in good time,” Marja interjected, walking towards me. “But first; the Photographs please.” she requests, looking down upon me expectantly.

Fishing them out from my vest, I gave Marja what I nearly lost my life for and waited with baited breath as she began to inspect each of them. As she continued to shuffle through them, other Olenians gathered around to see.

“Hm…” She hummed, bemused. “This is… troubling.”

I chose not to pry and instead waited. When Marja was finished with the photos, she dispersed them along a table for all to see. Immediately the reactions were heard as almost all of them were conversing to one another in Olenian. And they didn’t sound optimistic.

“What exactly did you see over there?” Marja asked the Million-Bit Question.

“I saw one of the toughest nuts that we are attempting to crack…”

---

After giving my testimony of what happened, and what I saw in terms of defenses, Marja’s expressions turned more and more sour. So did my squadmates, when they heard of what they were going to deal with. When I told them about the Concrete Pillboxes, I could hear Marja wince.

“... Thankfully for us, the only saving grace we have is that all of the armored vehicles seem to be pulling south to where the fighting is the thickest, which only leaves the soldiery to guard the Palace.”

“Well-armed, and well-trained soldiers.” Marja corrects me.

“... I’m counting your blessings here.” I deadpanned. “Other than that small tidbit, there’s not much else that could be of use to us. I still have no idea what awaits us inside.”

Marja studies each photograph intensely as if she was a detective cracking a case. She scans one, the next, and the next in a rapid fashion, searching for any kind of hole in the armor to probe.

If her frustrated groans were anything to go by, she has had no such luck.

“Damn these bugs! They have nearly every nook and cranny reinforced with something to deter any kind of attack. They got it locked down tighter than a banker’s vault.”

I eyed Brass Screws from my peripherals, who was frowning at Marja’s words.

“Does this mean that an assault is impossible?”

Marja didn’t answer right away.

“Even if we were successful, the loss of life would be destructive.” Syringe assessed from the other side of the table. “Nothing would change that unless we destroy the entire building.”

“We are not doing that. Even if we have the material and the firepower to accomplish this - which we do not - we do not want to destroy our seat of government if we can help it.” Marja retorted.

“But what other option do we have?” Brass asked aloud.

Again, the room goes silent on that.

“... If I may,” Dominoes spoke up from the back of the platform, “If the Changelings have what we are looking for, and if I were a betting pony - and I am, it is a serious problem - I’d say that the Palace will also have an ammunition depot for the garrison as well, correct?”

Marja once again carefully peered at each photograph.

“... Maybe so,” she starts, holding aloft one specific picture in her hoof. “This one has a tent with some spare shells lying about for heavy guns. They look like 120 Mils’ and heavier. And there are several of these tents just like them all across the Garden Square.”

“Then why not just blow them up?”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a bad smell.

“... Did you not hear the part where Marja said she doesn’t want to blow up the Palace?” Syringe wryly quipped.

“No no, hear me out,” Dominoes began, “They are far away enough from the Palace to not completely destroy the building, only just the immediate surrounding area. It would leave a crater where the tent used to be, but that's about it.”

“I am not liking where you are taking this.” Marja reluctantly retorts.

“Lemme ask you this: Are you willing to repair some damages if it means you will capture the place intact?”

Marja’s lips creased in an enigmatic frown but otherwise nodded to his question.

“Are you willing to do whatever it takes to capture the Palace if it means you don’t lose your entire Battalion because of it?”

Another nod.

“Do you have heavy weaponry to detonate the stockpile with?”

Nod.

“Do you have the Deer-power to pull off the assault?”

Nod.

“Do you have the morale, the will, and the supplies, to accomplish such a task?”

Nod.

“... Then the only thing I have left to ask is: What better time than to do it in the present moment?”

Marja stared hard into Dominoes’ eyes, searching for any sign of dishonesty and insincerity. This was the most I had heard Dominoes’ speak in tangent since I had first met him in Vanhoover.

She turned to the photos, then did a double-take back to Dominoes.

“... That… just might work.” Marja quietly accepts.

“I know you have to go through with your Council… thing to get it proposed and accepted, but it is a good plan, isn’t it?”

“... It’s one of the better ones I’ve heard in a long while.”

“So we strike their ammunition tents, sow chaos and confusion, and attack during the pandemonium?” Brass asked Dominoes.

“Essentially, yes.”

“... I like the way you think.” Brass responds with a smile.

“I like the way I think too.” Dominoes smiles back.

“Right then, I shall get this proposed to the Council immediately and see if I can prepare for the witching hour. We only have a few hours of daylight left, so I will try my best to hurry along.” She paused. “Understand, Ponit, that if I do not make them come to an agreement before nightfall, you will be stuck here for the night.”

“We were fully prepared to give our lives for today, or to fight for however many days it takes to get to our goal. A night in the sewers isn’t the end of the world for us.” Brass spoke for us.

Marja’s smile widened. “... I’m glad to have met you all. You are all formidable fighters in your own right. In the meantime, feel free to lounge around. I will let the others know you are welcome here.” She compliments, before disappearing through the doorway leading to the inner cistern.

With that, she leaves us to our own devices as most of the Olenians have shuffled off to minding their own business.

I felt a rough pat on my back from behind as I turned to see Brass Screws standing over me.

“You did well today, Sunshine. Fine job making it back in one piece.”

I nodded tersely, and wordlessly, as my mind wondered off to Rain Drop locked away in his cell.

“... Brass?”

“Hm?”

“Permission to speak freely?”

She paused for a tense moment, before nodding. I took a moment to contemplate how to ask this.

“... About Rain Drop, um… Who were Misty and Pebbles? And why were they important to Rain?”

If Brass Screws was in any way shocked or stunned by my question, she made a very good effort of hiding her reactions. Her features were that of a blank, but stern wall.

“... Former friends of his. They were killed in action quite a while ago when they were under my command… He blames me for their deaths.”

Her blunt honesty was not what I was expecting out of her; lies? Maybe not necessarily, but I did expect her to honey her words in some kind of way.

There was no sugarcoating it with her though. She is supposedly responsible for Rain’s friends.

“... What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” I sat down, tempting her to do the same in front of me. She reciprocates my actions and plants her haunches on the plywood floor.

“It was around the time when the Shire Offensive happened. That was around… the year 1012, I want to say - somewhere in the winter between 1012 and 1013 if my memory is right.”

I nodded along, noticing my squadmates dispersing and idling in their own manner.

“The Changelings had been stalled just short of the fallback line for about 9 months prior to this and we knew an attack was coming. We just didn’t expect them to hit us as hard as they did when that time finally came. They were trying to go for the killing blow on us and march towards Canterlot, and I was assigned to one of the Divisions trying to stop them at the time.

“Rain was with me in No-Creature’s Land in the town of Shire itself when they came from all sides. Misty, Pebbles, and a few others with us at the time, were left behind in our foxholes when the Panzers started trembling the earth. Most of the Company I was in started to flee East since that was the only direction the bugs weren’t shooting from. By that time, Rain, Misty, Pebbles, and I were in separate foxholes when I gave the order to retreat.

Brass paused, her posture shifting a little as she scooted her hooves closer to her abdomen.

“... I’m still not sure what happened there. I yelled to fall back, and I heard them yell something back at me, but I couldn’t hear over the cacophony of gunfire deafening me. I knew that the Panzers were getting closer, and that Rain was right next to me at the time, so I grabbed him and told him as his CO that we were leaving. I looked back at Misty and Pebbles one last time and yelled the same thing towards them, and heard more incoherent screams coming from them in response.

“I didn’t wait for them, and I dragged Rain out of the Foxhole as we both hauled ass away from where we were. I looked one more time and saw them both still sitting in their holes, firing away at anything they could see… that was the last time I saw them.”

Brass took a moment of silence as her eyes drifted away from me and towards… something. Looking at where she was looking at, it was hard to tell what she focused on… or perhaps she was just staring into space.

“Rain never questioned me in that moment until after we made it across the river east of Shire. He started asking around for their names, then started to ask me. That was when I told him we left them behind.”

She stops for another to exhale a deep sigh.

“... I know why he is mad at me. And not just for the obvious reason that I left his friends to die. But because it was my sole responsibility as a leader to try and have all of my Ponies make it out alive. And I failed my job as a leader in that regard. In his eyes, and in mine. I blame myself for what happened.”

Her ears wilted, but her eyes hardened.

“But not the government, apparently. They saw my actions as Heroic.” She bitterly remembers as her hoof reaches into one of her vest pockets and pulls out a scrap of ribbon with some copper-looking metal at the end. A medal, and a rather prestigous looking one too.

“The Bronze Star of Valiant Action. Apparently, I helped save more lives that day due to me ordering them to abandon their foxholes instead of dying for Celestia.”

She lets the last phrase hang in the air for a tense minute or so as I inspect the medallion. It was indeed of a Bronze hue, shaped into a six-pronged star with the Insripted Acronym of BSVA printed in the middle. It wasn’t overly glamorous, but it did carry an air of distinguishment to it.

“How come you don’t wear this?”

Her face scrunches up as if I had offended her with that question. “Because I don’t deserve this medal,” Brass answers as she stows it in her pocket, “at least not yet. When I think about wearing it, my mind drifts to Pebbles and Misty again. And… I feel too guilty to go through with putting it on me. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I can,” I answered honestly. “You don’t view yourself as a hero, like how others do.”

“More importantly,” Brass continues, “I also failed as a leader.”

“No,” I responded quickly, standing up over Brass, “no you did not. You were given an impossible situation that hardly anypony - not Princess Celestia, not even Princess Twilight - could make right. You did what you thought was best based on what you have extrapolated. And if you saved lives that day, then you shouldn’t hold yourself accountable for the ones that had been lost, the ones you could have saved. It will only drive you mad.”

My words didn’t seem to pierce through to Brass, her features carrying a weight of exhausted sorrow. “It’s kind of you to say that, but that is not the way I see it. And I’m afraid nothing will make it right.” She paused. “... In a way, I’m kind of glad I was hoof-picked for this suicide mission.”

“... Glad?” I asked as Brass stood up.

“It makes me feel vindicated. Like I am on the path to redemption. Or, if nothing else, I will die and stop feeling anything. That works too. Whichever comes first.” she remarks before walking away.

As Brass walks off to an isolated corner by her lonesome, her words repeat in my mind over and over.

‘I failed as a leader.’

Rain’s grudge on Brass was more than that; it was a harbored resentment that had been festering for years, over something that was seemingly out of Brass’s control. And even after the fact, Brass carries the weight of her guilt willingly as if it was some self-arbitrated punishment for her transgressions in the past.

Pieces to the puzzle had fallen into place, but I was still left with more questions than answers.

---

About an hour had passed when Marja returned from the Cistern, a small smirk fixed on her features.

“Ponit, I have more news!” Marja announces in Ponish for us to hear. Presently, all of the Squad (save for Storm Cloud and Rain Drop) gathered around the table where Marja had inspected the photographs from earlier.

“The Council has decided your idea of creating chaos and confusion in the upcoming assault has brought merit into the minds of the Council, and they have agreed to carefully consider this stratagem in our plan of action.”

“So, are they discussing whether or not it’s a good idea?” I asked aloud for all of us.

“In a sense, yes. They are to come to a vote when they think they are ready to make a decision, and if the vote fails, then they debate further until a resolution is passed. This usually takes a few hours.”

“We don’t have a lot of daylight left. If you want to attack the Palace today, it will have to be before dusk or we risk losing our window of opportunity. Who knows if the Changelings have requested reinforcements or not? And who knows if or when they may arrive? It could be tomorrow, it could be today; we can’t risk hesitating on our part.” Brass plots aloud, with Marja nodding along intently.

“You are correct. Time has always been our enemy, but today it is our nemesis. I only hope they do not take too long in their debates.” Marja’s gaze drifts towards the door leading inward to the Cistern. “Only time will tell.”

More waiting. Well, at least I was used to it by now.

“Whatever happened to the Chameleon Cloak anyway?” Marja asked.

“I still have it. Why?”

“Keep it.” Marja answers with a swift nod. “Think of it as a reward for you helping us personally.”

“Uh… thanks?” I awkwardly replied, noticing the wanton gazes of my other squadmates. They too were envious of it, and I couldn’t blame them. To have one for yourself would surely be a boon for all soldiers. And here I was hoarding the only one for the Squad. An amalgamation of guilt and paranoia seized me.

“So what then? Are we to wait until they come to a decision? Like last time?” Syringe asked aloud in a tone of annoyance, swiftly changing the subject.

“I know it is frustrating and maddening - believe me, I know - But it is for the best this way, lest we make a rash decision.”

“Speaking of rash decisions,” I interjected, all eyes turning to me, “How is Rain Drop faring?”

Brass’s brows furrowed ever so slightly at my question. Marja’s did too, but more so out of confusion.

“He hasn’t spoken since the outburst, and he is refusing to cooperate, so I would say we are off to a rocky start as far as international relations go.” she jests lightheartedly, but there was also a tone of indignance.

“I wish to speak to him. Alone.”

Everyone’s eyes blinked hard as their brains wrapped around the question I had uttered. Brass especially looked surprised.

“Eh… I do not think that is a good idea. He is not cooperative, and it will only be a waste of time.” Marja answered.

“I would like to be the judge of that. I just want no more than 10 minutes or so.”

“Sunshine…” Brass didn’t say any more; she didn’t need to. The look in her eyes was more than enough for her to say her piece. She too was doubtful this would work.

“I’m not sure what you would want to say to him,” Pumpkin Patch’s atonal voice spoke up for the first time since we got here. “He is a liability.”

“And he’s an asshole.” Dominoes said the obvious part aloud.

“Why do you want to talk to him?” Syringe asked me, her frowning eyes burrowing into my skull with her acrid stare. “He’s a piece of work, and he clearly is not in the right mind.”

“I just want to talk. I want to see if I can get him to work with us. I want to try, at least, will you let me have that?” I switched my attention towards Marja, who stood rigid as she contemplated her answer. Nopony else dared to speak in my stead and waited for Marja’s response in the meantime. The latter of which sighed and sagged her head down.

“Ten minutes. You will have ten minutes, and no more. If he can’t work with us, he stays in confinement. Understand?” Marja acquiesced.

“Yes ma’am.” I instinctually replied.

---

The confinement cells were cold, dark, and damp for malcontents and dissenters alike. While this room wasn’t intentionally designed to be a dungeon - the iron bars that held the locked door in place were artificially constructed there after the Bastion was founded from what I heard - it still served its purpose. Isolated in the farthest corners of the rear Cistern where the Council resided, only one occupant was actually using these cells for their intended use. That occupant was Rain Drop.

Marja personally escorted me to the cells before leaving me by my lonesome. Rain Drop was sitting in a corner, facing towards the cell doors as his eyes were fixed downward onto the cobblestone floor. He didn’t bother to look up as his ears flicked to the sounds of hoofsteps. He didn’t acknowledge my presence, let alone speak.

A heavy silence drags on between us. I stood outside of the bars of his cell, looking down upon him as continued to stay still. His brows were fixed in a permafrown, his forehooves chained together in hoof cuffs. The sounds of heavy chains scraping the floor occasionally broke the silence between us.

I sat down in front of his cell on my haunches gently, his gaze still locked onto the floor.

“What do you want?” He mumbles atonally, his eyes never leaving the ground.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I reached into one particularly bulky vest pocket and fished out what was stowed inside. Unfolding the contents, I dropped the Chameleon Cloak in front of Rain’s cell in a crumpled pile. Rain’s eyes drifted towards the object in question, then to me.

“Your cloak has helped me accomplish my task,” I stated matter-of-factly, “And I am willing to give it back to you if you are willing to come with us again.”

A scoff, followed by a chortle. “Get lost.” he turns his back towards me.

“No,” I replied blankly, staring him down.

More silence. The air is thick with tension.

“Why are you here?” Rain asked candidly, his back still facing me.

“Because I am trying to help you.”

“Help me with what?” His venomous voice drops down an octave with that question. “You think you can help me?” he scoffs again. “You are more naive than I gave you credit for.”

“I can understand how you feel-”

“No you can’t-”

“And I know you don’t want to stay here-”

“Obviously not-”

“But if you can’t cooperate, you will be forced to stay here. And I don’t want that to happen to you.” I insisted.

“Worst-case scenario?”

I paused. “Uh… what?”

“What’s the worst-case scenario for me? If I stay here?”

I stuttered and fumbled my words into incoherent sounds as I tried to formulate a response. Rain beat me to the punch.

“I’ll tell you; I get fed here, and I sleep here. And I probably will die here when the Changelings come knocking at the door. That’s it. Sounds exactly the same compared to living outside as is. Except this time, I get to do nothing and watch as the world kills itself. Sounds like a good show to me.” He scoots away from me. “Leave me alone.”

My ears wilt as I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster. A little fiery tendril of rage pierced my psyche, but I kept my cool as I spoke out again. “So… you are just giving up?”

“Call it whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”

“Fine then,” I stood up, preparing to leave. “I hope Misty and Pebbles are proud of your cowardice.” I aggressively quipped as I turned towards the door to leave.

“... What?” I heard Rain ask from behind, his tone bordering rage.

Got him.

“You heard me, Coward.” I turned to face him. And for the first time, Rain Drop looks me in the eyes with a look of wrath.

“... You take that back. Now.”

“No.”

BANG!

A hoof violently slams against the bars of his confinement as Rain Drop stands up on two hooves and grabs the bars with force.

“How fucking dare you?! Who gave you the right?!”

“Who gave you the right to project your suffering out on everypony else?!” I yelled back at him. “‘Oh, woe is me, my friends are all dead, lemme just be an asshole to every single living pony I meet because I can’t seem to get my shit together when it comes to handling Grief!’ That’s you! That’s what you sound like!” I imitated in a gruff voice.

“Oh go FUCK yourself, Sunshine! Do you think I want to do this?! Do you think I get pleasure in doing this?!”

“You haven’t said so otherwise.”

“I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS! I never asked to be selected on a suicide mission!”

That’s the second time somepony had referred to this as a suicide mission today.

“Is that what you think we are doing? Suicide?” I asked honestly.

“Oh stop lying to yourself! What the fuck else are we doing?!”

“Trying to save Equestria from mass destruction! What-”

Interrupted by the sound of hoarse laughing, Rain begins to cackle incessantly for a long while until he stops for a breath.

“‘Save Equestria?’ Do you think yourself some kind of hero, Sunshine? Is that what this is? Are you trying to prove to me you’re brave by telling me to my face that you don’t care about my dead friends? By trying to convince yourself that you are helping me with this?”

“No, I just-”

“I don’t care, Sunshine. I just don’t care about all of this anymore-”

“YES, YOU FUCKING DO!” I screamed at him, prompting him to look up into my eyes with a raised brow.

“You talk about how you don’t care, and how you don’t want to be close to anyone! If you say you don’t care, then why are you harboring this guilt? You act like you are the only one suffering!”

My words echoed off the tight, damp walls of his cell, no doubt reverberating in his mind as well. His expression says it all: He was expecting resistance, but not at this magnitude.

“Putting aside the obvious suicide mission we are on; whatever it is that happened between you and Brass needs to be put in the past! Too much is at stake here for you to otherwise harbor a fucking grudge!

“And before you project your grief about your dead friends onto me - and again, I understand how you feel - Take a moment to consider that we are currently resting in a place that could only be called the Last Stand for the Olenians as their real home is being torn apart above us as we speak! And how all of us are living without some friend or loved one here. All of us here have lost someone Rain! Grow. The fuck. Up.

“And while all of the Changelings are gearing up to destroy our comrades fighting for their lives, and while the Olenians are gearing up to charge into the breach once more to take what is theirs, and as all of these fucking bugs with their evil queen continue to triumph and crumple what we know and love into dust, here you stand! Doing nothing!

“So for the sake of everyone here - Pony and Deer alike - You either move on or get left behind!”

The entirety of my rant steadily withered Rain’s resolve for a rebuttal as his gaze slowly sags to the cobblestone floor. At first, he stared intensely and incredulously, then ashamed and apprehensive, then reserved and resentful, all in a manner of minutes. The emotional whiplash left him unable to speak, and it left me too drained to continue. I sat hard on my haunches, and for a moment we were content to sit in silence.

I gazed at Rain, and he continued to stare hard at the floor. “... And I don’t want you to be left behind.” I sighed, noticing his eyes gaze up at me through his furrowed brow. “Believe it or not, I don’t hold any resentment over you. We all need you. And you need us too. So for the sake of our continued survival if nothing else, put it to rest along with your companions. Please.”

No more words were spoken between us for a solid minute or so. I had taken it as a sign that I had failed in persuading him, and was about to stand up to trot out with the cloak.

That was, until I heard him clear his throat from behind, and I turned to see Rain Drop staring at me with tired eyes.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

… Sorry?

That caught me off guard, admittedly. Of all the things he said, I was not expecting him to apologize.

“But I can’t put it to rest.” He finishes. “At the same time though, you are right. I can’t do much here.” I inspect his chained hooves with a hard grimace. “Especially like this.”

I turned fully towards him and sat down, waiting for him to elaborate further. A heavy sigh coursed his throat.

“Ok… Let’s say I… I agree to be cooperative. What then?”

A shadow of a smile creases my lips as I slide the cloak under the cell doors towards him.

“First; you get to keep this,” I offered to him as he gingerly accepts, “Second; You don’t start any trouble, and there won’t be any trouble between anyone. If that’s fine with you, they can let you go. I will make sure of it. I promise.”

“... Pinkie Promise?” he quietly responds, almost in a whisper.

“... What?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Nothing, just… an old hometown anecdote.” he dismisses with a sad smile and a shake of his head. “But… yeah. I can do that. Those terms are fine with me.”

Another smile found itself on my face, more genuine than the last one.

“Don’t think that because of this we are friends, though,” He quickly adds, “you are still an annoying kiss-ass.”

“And you are a stubborn hard-ass.”

That got a single chuckle out of him. “Not stubborn, just stupid,” he replies standing up. “Tell them I… I can cooperate.“ He quietly submits. I gave him a terse nod as I opened the door to leave. “And Sunshine?”

I turn back to see him standing up again on all fours, standing with some level of dignity still attached. “Thank you. I… I don’t think I-”

“It’s okay,” I interjected, “No need to apologize. Just… get your head in the right place when it matters the most, alright?”

“Yeah… I can do that.”

---

“Wait, really?”

Brass’s shocked words echoed off the more spacious atrium of the Bastion as the whole squad (except for Storm Cloud) gathered around a table to discuss how my talk with Rain went. The rest shared her confusion. Even Marja was there, and she too shared the rest of their awe.

“How did you manage to convince him?” Syringe asked the only question that mattered out of all the other incessant ones they’d been asking.

“I told him what really mattered, and that he needed to get his head in the right place. Took a little more effort than I thought, but he agreed to come clean so to speak.”

Marja shook her head with an amused smile. “You keep finding more and more ways to surprise me, Ponit.” She chuckles to herself, “But I suppose this is for the best. We will need all the hooves we can muster for what is to come.”

“Yeah, how did the Council fare while Sunshine was away?” Brass asked for us all.

“It was an arduous argument from all sides, but they came to a 7:3 agreement that the attack must be commenced.”

She spoke it so casually as if it was a date or a luncheon at the weekend. But the gravity of her words was still apparent to us; The Olenians would attack and take back their Palace, or die trying.

“When?” I asked before anypony else.

“Today.”

“What?!” All of us collectively spoke simultaneously.

“But I-I thought, I thought you would wait at least a day before we would assault the-”

“If we wait, we lose our chance forever,” Marja interjected with a stern tone, “The Changeling Garrison is spread thin across the city and they are calling in neighboring divisions to fill the gaps. They will be here by morning. And if they are there, they would be too numerous and too entrenched for us to succeed.

“If we wish to win, it must be done now or never.”

Nopony dared to speak or protest at those words. She said them with finality; a tone of diligence and discipline that could only be obtained through years of struggle.

“I haven’t told the others yet. You are the first ones to hear of this.”

“... How long?” Brass asked, her tone also hardened with experience. “How long do we have to prepare?”

“An hour. We attack all the way until Nightfall. If we succeed, we will broadcast our message to all of Olenia to begin our uprising. If we fail… We fail. Simple as that.”

My heart began to thunder in my chest. Everypony carried a look of anticipation. They knew it as well as I did.

Some of us will not survive today.

“What about Storm Cloud?” Syringe asked from the back. “Will he be left here during the attack?”

“Unless he can somehow miraculously recover three months' worth of trauma in a manner of hours, yes. He is a liability as of now.” She frowns. “It’s unfortunate none of you are unicorns. Especially you, medic.” She looks as Syringe.

“Believe me, I hate it too…” she mutters to herself.

“So thats it then?” Dominoes asked. “How do we do this? What’s our plan of action?”

“I will brief Brass on the battle plan. Our planners are already formulating an attack as we speak. I am sure she will explain it to you when it is time to commence. Until then, however - Brass?” she asks her name, the latter of which responds with a nod.

“Show me.” she immediately understands.

“Right then. Until then, Ponit, I will also work on Rain’s release before then. Prepare yourselves accordingly.” She concludes as both she and Brass walk off to the Cistern.

When we were left alone, we all collectively had the same idea to gaze at one another for confidence. All of us carried the same expression: Apprehension

“So… this is it, then?” Syringe asks aloud, looking around for potential eavesdroppers before lowering her voice. “If we find what we are looking for, then we know we are on the right path.”

“Well, let’s not count our eggs before they hatch,” Morning Dew politely interjects. “We have no idea what's inside. But we know that whatever it is, they want to keep it. Badly.”

“Anypony else feel like…” Dominoes spoke up, “That, maybe, we are in way over our heads?”

“What do you mean?” Morning asks.

“Like… Everything about this feels… insane. Grandiose.” She explains as she expands her hooves outwards. “It feels too surreal to be considered reality.”

“... Like what we are doing is a suicide mission?” I asked aloud.

Everypony turned to look at me incredulously.

“Like we shouldn’t be here in the first place?” I pressed.

“I wasn’t gonna say it like that but, something like that, yeah.”

“Brass said the same thing,” I revealed to them, each of them reacting in their own way ranging from semi-shocked to indifferent. “She thinks what we are doing is suicidal as well.”

Silence, save for the ambient noises of the Olenains milling about around us pretending we don’t exist.

“... What do you think?” Syringe asks.

“Huh?”

“What do you think about this, Sunshine?” she presses me.

“... Honestly? I don’t know. I… I can’t really wrap my head around all the surrounding details of it without going at least a little crazy.”

“We’re a bunch of misfits, who don’t belong, running in a game against the clock, traveling the world in perilous threatening adventures trying to save what we know of the world from destruction.” Syringe chuckles from her belly at that. “Sounds like something the Mane 6 should do, not a rag-tag band of soldiers.”

“So, what? Are we the new heroes of the age, or what?” Dominoes asked aloud.

“We can’t be, I don’t see any magical rainbow beams emitting off of us to suggest otherwise.” Syringe jests, earning a laugh from me. Soon Syringe joined in, then Dominoes, then Morning; even Pumpkin’s normally stoic attitude was replaced with mirth.

All of us shared a little laugh together at the absurdity of the situation we were in. And… It was strange to say, but it felt… good. It felt vindicating in some regard, knowing I wasn’t the only one who acknowledged the surreality of our circumstances.

The tender moment didn’t last as the laughter stopped, replaced with the sounds of idle chatter echoing off the walls from the Olenians.

“... I used to be a gardener.” Morning Dew piped up. All of us gazed at her as she locked her eyes on the wooden platform we sat on. “I would wake up before dawn to tend to my lilacs and lavenders before going through the day.”

She stopped herself from going on right as the sadness laced her tone and words.

“... My real name isn’t Syringe.” the latter then piped up. “That was only what everypony called me after my Cutie Mark. Truth be told, I never really liked my old name so it stuck.”

“Gray Mane,” I interjected, earning a look from her, “you said your name was Gray Mane, right?”

“... Yeah. Gray Mane.” she wistfully answers. “Nopony hardly remembers it well enough to use it on me though, so Syringe is what everyone calls me.”

“Does it bother you?” I ask.

“The opposite, actually. I never liked my name, as I said,” she concludes, sitting down more hunched up and reserved.

“... I was a father.” Pumpkin Patch bitterly admits.

A pang of sadness pierced me at those words. He didn’t elaborate further. He didn’t need to.

“... I’m sorry for your loss.” Gray Mane consoles Pumpkin, earning a soft nod from the latter.

“I was a bartender.” Dominoes changed the subject with her own story as well. “Worked in Las Pegasus, too. I had a happy life and… now I have this.” she finishes lamely. “Not… impressive, I know, but it made me happy. Until I was drafted.”

All of us finished, but yet it still felt incomplete. Until I realized that Rain Drop and Storm Cloud were missing. I had no idea what Storm’s origins could be, but Rain Drop? I can at least shed some light on them with his story.

I just hope he doesn't take offense to me speaking on his behalf.

“Rain Drop, he… I don’t know what he did before the war, but he was at Shire when the battle for it kicked off.” I explained as I watched everyone hone their eyes on me. "He lost a lot of good friends in that battle, and he blames Brass Screws for it because they were together when she ordered a retreat. He blames her for the loss of his friends.”

Nopony responded to that with words, but rather with nods and changed expressions. Some looked empathetic, others confused.

“Brass said so herself to me. And she knows what she did will never be amended in his mind… but…” I trailed off. “I… I would like to think that I helped him in some regard to that, but… I don’t truly know. Only time will tell.”

More nods. Then nothing. Everypony collectively fell quiet again as they were reminded of their own mortality and morality.

But somewhere buried beneath this pain and struggle that we all shared, there was also a kindred tenderness. A collective bond, one that became more apparent as we talked of our pasts. I knew from then on that we weren’t so different, that we weren’t truly lost yet.

And that fragile tenderness was again broken as I reminded myself of what was to come. Soon, we would be going above ground for combat. Soon, we would join the Olenians in their upcoming struggle. And that struggle would be a bloody one.

New friends were made, and new fears had arisen. At the end of the day, when it is all said and done, I am reminded of one quintessential fact of myself:

I am a coward. I always had been. And I knew today I had a good reason to be afraid.

Because by the end of today, not everyone will make it to see tomorrow.

Next Chapter: (A3) - Finale: Coward Pt 2 Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 28 Minutes