Lewis dozed off on the ride to Ponyville. Faces began to fade in and out of his view- Noble, Glover, countless others, dead, all on his hands. They were put under him, they had trusted in him, trusted him to keep them safe, to get them home. And what happened? He didn't keep them in line. He didn't drill them hard enough. They got sloppy because he got sloppy. Their deaths were on his hands entirely. The specimens and their actions just seemed to be a cosmic reminder that if he wasn't perfect, others would pay.

And now the Patriarch was in this world. Wreaking havoc and ending more lives- all on his fault. It was his idea to try and destroy the "Hive", the lab. He was the bright one to think of running straight at the damn bastard, giving him what he wanted all along. There was no strategy, no plan, nothing to back up on. It was all a last act of desperation, it wasn't needed, it was all a mistake, though it almost seemed to be something purposely made...

He had one job: keep those under him as safe as possible. He was like a tool, something perfectly built, drilled, and trained to do one thing, only he failed at it time and time again. He shook his head, this was the lowest he had sunk in a while. He shook his head, this was the lowest one could drop.

He almost began to feel... sad. At that, he forced his mind to drift to other things. He decided to think of how much ammo he had left, forced himself to take a physical inventory, and his mind to take a mental inventory. Did he have ten, twenty shells left? He couldn't remember how much he needed right now. Then again, he really only needed one...

====================

Skully thought; though, he didn't think of the situation at hand. He just thought about other things, simple things, things that would be described as a delicacy in today's world, but a small detail in the world he thought of. A hot shower, a warm drink, the three spoonfuls of sugar he would put in his coffee- the small details that would eventually make up his everyday life.

Then, he thought of how cliche it was for people to think about what they lost. If anything, it held them back. No, he wanted to think about what was ahead of him. He wanted to make three spoons of sugar a standard, something people wouldn't even think about, just because it was normal. He also thought about how he would be able to re-introduce electronica back into this world... or should he call it 'that world'?

"Earth", just plain earth. This could be "Pony Planet". He was fine with that, he wouldn't be here long so he didn't care if it was named "Cracked Pickle Ass", yet his mind still danced on the notion of what this planet was called. He shook his head. He was thinking again, he hated to think, not the normal thinking like what to do when something is needed, but rathering thinking these random thoughts that arrived just when he needed the peace and quiet.

When he thought at these times, he thought of mindless drabble- really only useless thoughts that clouded his mind; he prefered to just 'do', especially when these moments came around. Then again, some of his best ideas came from when he thought at times like this, but at the cost of this damned daydreaming that fogged his mind as he tried to reach the goal he was looking for.

"Just do," he thought; a decent wake-up call for himself, causing him to look over the side of the floating carriage and very the landscape below them. It was a dark green plain, shrouded by the darkness of night. He didn't see any specimens, or any living thing, for that matter. It was dead, as dead as Glover was as he pulled those wires and transformed into a mist of red. As dead of Noble, being pounded into a mush over and over again in Skully's mind. As dead as he should've been after facing the Patriarch, twice. As dead as they will be as soon as they... he was thinking again.

He closed his eyes. He thought of the darkness that was brought from his eyelids. It was something that wasn't Glover or Noble or pain ot Lewis or death... he was thinking again...