Graphite sat near Deacon’s shack, trying to figure out his next move. Deacon finally reached the top of the house and had stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. It didn’t seem like the white stallion will be coming outside for a while, so he had some time to make a plan. He sat there for a few minutes, contemplating idea after idea. He had to make it look like an accident - maybe have the roof fall in on him? But how, and what if the noise attracting ponies over and catch him in the act? Maybe start a fire? But sheet metal won’t burn. Graphite settled for the direct approach - nothing that simple could possibly fail.

Graphite picked himself up, heading up the flight of rusted stairs. The creaks and squeals were getting louder, the weight of the steel armour was ready to burst through each step of the stairs. He was treading slowly, the squeaks starting to extend out and echo back and forth across the caved in houses. Graphite had his eyes closed at this point, another loud screech as he lowered each hoof. Another step and another, taking one slow step at a time. Finally, a feeling, a feeling of falling - he had taken one last step on the creaky stairs and must have broken through. Graphite’s eyes shot open as he fell, his two front hooves planted squarely on the porch at the end of the stairs - Graphite had just took one step too many.

Graphite sighed a sigh of relief, getting the rest of his hooves up the stairs and heading to the door. The shack was tilting over on itself, ready to fall over in even the slightest breeze. The sheets of thin metal that made the body of the house were rusted through and filled with holes and dents. The weeds hadn’t reached the building, but they had started their crawl up the pillars that supported it. The lights were shining through the windows, a faint orange glow of an oil lamp somewhere inside.

Graphite gripped the doorknob with his magic, turning the knob slowly, pushing the door open just as slow. He peeked his head through the crack of the door while he slid it open, creeping inside. The door came open, Graphite took a step inside and checked around the home. A light of a fire was flicking in the kitchen, Graphite could hear the sound of a pony munching down on some food. Graphite turned the corner, standing in a fighting stance in the middle of the doorway leading to what appeared to be the dining room.

The white pony was sitting there at the table, eating some kind of a red fruit. It seemed like an apple, but mutated by radiation and tinged by bacteria. It crunched and squished like an apple, but wasn’t nearly as appetizing. Deacon looked up from his apple and over to Graphite. He didn’t move, or say a word - he just smiled.

Graphite left his fighting stance, standing normally and looked back, confused. Deacon swallowed the bite in his mouth and stood to his feet, “Well hello, my young traveler! What brings you to my neck of the woods?” He exclaimed with a smile of delight across his cheeks.

Graphite stood in shock, not sure how to respond, so he just simply asked, “A-are you, by any chance, Deacon?”

Deacon smiled wider, a twinkle lit up in his eyes, “Why yes! You’ve heard of me?”

Graphite was baffled, no pony was this happy or eager to have a stranger barge into his home, “Well, yes - I guess you could say I’ve heard of you before.”

Deacon was looking around the corners for something, “You must think that I’m awfully rude,” He smiled again and looked at Graphite, “I’ll find something for you to sit on and then we chat over breakfast - I have some apples, straight from the market.”

Graphite looked over at the apples that Deacon was eating. He couldn’t tell if it was their strange appearance or the fact that he already had something for breakfast, that made apples unappetizing, “You know, I’ll sit here, but I’ve already had some breakfast,” He said and grabbed a nearby box.

“Well if that is what you wish,” Deacon rebutted and sat down on his seat again.

The white stallion tried to smile as he ate the apples and looked at his unexpected guest, “So, what brings you to my humble home?”

“Oh, um... I’m new in town and I uh, just wandered on in here...”

“What drove you to wonder into this house in particular?” Deacon brought up with a smirk on his face.

“I just...” Graphite faltered, taken off guard and left scratching for an excuse.

“I mean there’s plenty of other houses all down this street - why not pick any of those?”

Graphite was silent, destroyed with logic. The white stallion came by again, his grin still noticeable, “Were you driven by your orders, soldier?”

“Wha- what makes you say that I’m a soldier?”

“By that armour you’re wearing, of course.”

“The armor? I just found it in some ruins. It looked nice, so I picked it up,” Graphite tried to play off.

“That armor you’re wearing - that’s the armor of the Equestrian Army Marine Commandos. It was based off the Canterlot riot armor instead of the regular combat armor; since it was more suited to their needs during the campaign in the Triolet islands.”

Graphite was amazed and in awe, his eyes were wide and he was almost at a loss for words, “H-how do you know all of this?”

“I’m a soldier, just like you. Well, I used to be one - just like you. We both are serving an army which hasn’t existed for more than two hundred years. Each in our individual way, of course.”

“What do you mean?” Graphite asked. He had no further excuses or lies to tell, his disguise was discovered and he was out of ideas.

“Let me explain. I’ve read records on you, back when there still was an Equestria and the goddesses ruled over our land, you were a marine-”

“Wait, wait- what records?”

“You see, you made your impact on the history and though you weren’t there to experience it - you left your mark in the history books. You became a sort of a legend, so to speak.”

“Huh? This all is very confusing.”

“When I was still a colt, our teacher told us a legend of a stallion who was asleep and was supposed to wake when the pegasi were to lift the clouds and clear the earth below it. I was fascinated by this legend as a child and did some research on it as I grew older. Turned out that there really was a stallion, frozen somewhere north of the city of Buckago. Set for display with five other ponies whom were supposed to wake when we needed them the most,” Deacon grinned. “And, when they needed volunteers to help out at the Buckago base, I was one of the first pegasi to volunteer for the Enclave’s mission.”

“Pegasi? Enclave? You’re not making this any clearer, Deacon. What is this Enclave you’re talking about?”

“The Grand Pegasus Enclave, we were the last ‘pure’ kind of ponies. Remnants of what used to be the Equestria’s air-force. We sealed off the skies in an endless blanket of clouds at the first days of the war. On that day, the sky became our only home. Once the ground below was pure enough we were supposed to come back and repopulate it, but over the next few decades after the war our purpose changed drastically. Our leaders lead us away from our original ideas. We became greedy and too curious of what awaited us beneath the blanket of clouds.”

“What do you mean by ‘greedy’?”

“I do not wish to tell you about the things which I’ve done while a part of the Enclave. I followed my orders blindly, not thinking of what the outcome might be. One day, I realized the consequences of my actions after ten years of its judgement tortured the ponies it victimized. I spoke to my brothers and sisters in arms - we all decided to leave the Enclave’s mission behind and to return to our intended purpose - to save all of pony kind. We used our technology to shield ourselves from any of our counterparts that might come looking for us. We created a large mass of fog around the city of Buckago. Only a few brave souls have ever dared to go through the thick fog. Especially when the wind is blowing from the shore and the fog is at its thickest.”

“That sounds like the fog I had to deal with when I was approaching Buckago. ‘Nearly got jumped by a pack of dogs after making it through, though.”

“Well, that wasn’t our intention, Graphite. Please do remember that it’s a defense mechanism. It wasn’t meant to kill anyone, rather to shield everyone inside from the dangers outside.”

“It’s okay - no hard feelings.”

“I’m glad that you’re so easily forgiving. I wish that more ponies would share the same values as you. When we first descended from the clouds, we were greeted with shock, disgust, and hate. It seemed that a pegasi class as a whole seemed to be associated with terror that the Enclave brought and nothing else. We were often hunted and in that way; we lost many of our best. I guess that not including myself, right now there are about a dozen of pegasi left, scattered around the area of Buckago.”

“Deacon, don’t get me wrong, but- you don’t look like a pegasus.”

Deacon then stood up from the table, pushing the chair back. He took off his stained turtleneck and dropped it in front of Graphite on the table. Graphite looked up to see Deacon was hiding two wings under his shirt. Deacon planted his hooves on the table and struggled to open his wings. He grunted and cringed, until his wings began to unfold. They spread out after being unlocked, his wings a majestic white and almost as long as two of him. Deacon fluttered his wings and stretched them out, they must have been hidden away for quite some time.

“Looks can be deceiving, Graphite. Remember that,” Deacon smirked, scratching his wings and picking off a few threads that came from the shirt.

“I guess they can,” Graphite’s eyes shot open, struck with another wonder from this odd stallion. Graphite leaned back, going for cigarette in the pack to ease back into calmer state after being awestruck twice in the same night, “-You don’t mind if I...” Graphite stammered, cigarette already half-way to his lips.

“Er, go right ahead, my friend.”

“Thanks,” Graphite said as he slipped the cigarette into his mouth, lighting it with his lighter after two attempts.

“So, Graphite - you never really told me why you are here,” Deacon commented, pulling his chair back and taking his seat again.

“I’ll be honest with you, Deacon - Stripe sent me to ‘deal’ with you,” Graphite leaned forward and looked at Deacon, “But after the stories you’ve told me today; frankly, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Did he tell you why he would want my death?”

“Err... I never asked him. I just took the job - I needed the caps.”

“Oh Graphite, you did the same thing I did when I was your age. Always remember to stop and ask yourself why are you doing the things you do. Don’t become a machine, even if that’s what they trained you to do. A robot has no direction of good or bad, it just follows what its master commands it to do. Don’t lose sight of good and bad, or you’ll end up as a mindless killing machine.”

Graphite leaned back, relaxing slightly in his chair, “It’s okay Deacon; I understand that now- Thank you for the lesson.”

“My pleasure, Graphite.”

Graphite puffed another cloud of smoke, making sure it didn’t blow in Deacon’s direction, “I still have the issue of what to tell Stripe.”

Deacon pouted, rubbing his chin with his hoof, “Of course, I hadn’t thought of that...”

They both sat for a moment, Deacon contemplated a few thoughts; Graphite continued to smoke his cigarette, pulling a few ideas together as well. Deacon shrugged to himself, laying his arms back on the table, “I’m out of ideas,” Deacon claimed, “I just hope Stripe doesn’t find you, or you might end up like the last two of his little workers...”

Graphite pulled his cigarette out, batting out the ashes on the end. Graphite looked back to Deacon, worried, “What happened to the last two ponies he employed?”

“Well one, whom of which I don’t recall his name, ended up in the garbage compactor. Luckily the last was less violent, if not as agonizing-”

“-What happened to him?”

“Her, actually. I was pretty sure her name was Sunshine- or maybe-”

“-Sunny?” Graphite dropped his cigarette, paying better attention to Deacon.

“Yes, that’s it! Sunny - she started off working for Stripe as the main bar mare; she had to repay a debt for stealing something from the bar. She agreed to all of Stripe’s deals and, in the end, ended up as something of a slave; working for him without ever being able to pay him off.”

Graphite paused, slumping back into his chair and sighing. Graphite got up from the chair, stepping down on the cigarette to put it out. He started for the door, his hooves were stomping down with force and anger. He was about to turn the corner, when Deacon stopped him, “O-off so soon, Graphite...?”

Graphite, stopped, grabbing the edge of the wall, “Yes. I have a deal to make with Stripe.”

Graphite stormed out the house, shutting the door behind him. Deacon slid out of his chair, chasing after Graphite, “W-what are you talking about, Graphite?”

Graphite was already half-way down the stairs; he didn’t even bother to stop, or look back, “I’m sure you’ll hear about it when this ends, Deacon.”

“What are you doing, Graphite? What- I-” Deacon ran back inside before returning with his old stained turtleneck and almost jumping down the stairs, “Graphite!”

Graphite marched down the east street westward, flaring his nostrils and venting out some pent up air. Deacon was riding right behind him like his shadow; he trailed behind him trying to get beside, but Graphite’s march was to fast.

“What are you planning to do, Graphite?” Deacon panicked.

“It’ll be nothing you’ll approve of...”

Deacon stopped himself, trying to imagine what Graphite had planned - when suddenly, it hit him, “Graphite! You’re not planning on killing Stripe, are you?”

The bickering duo reached the intersection. Graphite turned back down the road to the market, now giving Deacon the silent treatment. They continued all the way to the market, Deacon worrying and pleading the whole way there. Graphite wasn’t surprised to see the crowd at the market still full and bustling as ever. Deacon stopped his begging, but was now starting to mumble to himself. Graphite readied his rifle; underneath the roar of the traveling market-goers, he loaded his rifle with the freshest magazine he could dig out of his bag.

He was sliding right through the mass of ponies with ease; Deacon was dragging behind, nudged and knocked around by the oncoming ponies that weaved passed Graphite. He went from a trot to a gallop, pushing aside the sea of ponies. Deacon finally started up in a spring, coming up alongside Graphite as he plowed through the ocean of ponies. Stripe’s bar was coming into view, the silhouette of the bar could just be seen in the dark shade of the rotten homes beside it and over the heads of the ponies gathered in the market.

The bar was just a few blocks more. Graphite grunted, picking up his gallop to a sprint as he charged the bar. Deacon was left in the wake of his sprint, stopped to catch his breath at the side of the road.

Graphite was running at full speed until he got to the front of the bar. He took in a deep breath, cooling down right after his sprint just before he stepped through the doors. He opened the door to the usual gang of drunk members. Sunny was standing behind the counter per usual, wiping it down with an old rag. Graphite simply went by the drinkers, slipping behind the counter, and right passed Sunny. Sunny didn’t mind, just slipping him a smile as we went by. Graphite walked through the back room, wafting in the smell of the food that was cooking in the kitchen in the corner. Graphite stepped up the stairs, and went down the small hallway swiftly.

A knock was heard just outside the door. Stripe stopped himself, leaving his bottle of beer just at the end of his lips, “Go see who that is disturbin’ my peace, Flash,” he griped.

“Sure thing, Stripe,” Flash followed, setting his magazine on his chair just before he got to the door.

He twisted the knob, pulling the door in towards himself - the door opened to a rifle stock jabbed right at his snout. The thrust threw him to the floor; Flash grabbing hold of his head from the trauma. Graphite shoved himself inside, gun pointed forward. He stormed across the room; Stripe had pulled open a drawer from his desk and whipped out a silver revolver bitten down in his mouth. Graphite was already near the desk when he propped himself on the edge and pushed himself up and over to dive towards the old stallion. Graphite collided into Stripe like a cannonball, stopping him just before he could fire off a round. His dive threw Stripe and himself to the back wall, Stripe’s head smashing at full force against the battered wall - leaving a dent imprinted with the back of Stripe’s head. The strike had Stripe spit out his gun along with a few drops of blood. Two hooves clasped around Stripe’s neck, Graphite pulling the stallion’s bleeding head to the floor. Graphite clenched Stripe’s neck harder, beating his employer’s head into the rusted metal floor. Graphite had his teeth pressed into each other, grinding as he groaned with anger while Stripe’s head continued to be bashed against the floor and his blood slowly splashing from his skull. There was no air going into his lungs, all of it was being beaten out of him and replaced with blood rushing to his broken head. Another round of endless banging against the floor, and Graphite was done - Stripe more than finished by the time Graphite had released his neck.

He stood to his hooves, wiping the blood from them on his duster before walking about the desk and over Flash as he continued to suffer from his blunt pain in his head. He trumped down the stairs, turning the corner too see the bar members still going about their usual business of nothing. Sunny was the only one sober to realize what had happen, along with Deacon who was sitting down at the counter with her.

Deacon buried his face in his hooves, shaking his head in them, “I’m guessing it’s done already, Graphite...?”

Sunny looked over to Deacon, then to Graphite, “What’s done-” she questioned, “Why’d you go upstairs, Graphite?”

“You don’t want to know, Sunny,” Graphite assured.

“It had to do with Stripe, I’m guessing.”

“Yes, it was just business.”

Sunny turned her head, grabbing the rag once more, “Well, okay then,” she didn’t care for whatever business anyone had with Stripe, so she ignored it and went on with the bar tending.

Graphite went around the counter, tugging Deacon on the shoulder a bit to direct him outside. The two stallions walked out the bar, Deacon immediately pulled Graphite to the side of the building, “Was killing Stripe really necessary, Graphite? There have had to been other options- anything then killing a pony in cold blood!” Deacon scolded.

“What else could I do, Deacon? There’s no negotiating with a stallion like that-”

“-Yes, yes, I’m well aware of what kind of pony Stripe is- or was - but that doesn’t mean you can just kill him like that!”

“Let me ask you again - what else could I do, Deacon? I have no money, I don’t know a single pony in town other than you and Sunny, and he was the one who got a hired gun to kill you. If I didn’t kill Stripe, he could have just hired another lowly killer of the streets that would pick you off without question or concern.”

Deacon shook his head again, sighing out loud, “Well, when you put it that way... I- I guess I can appreciate that you went on your own decisions this time, rather than follow the letter of some other pony.”

“I appreciate the appreciation, Deacon; but, I’ve done I’ll I needed to do here - I need to head further down town-” Graphite started his trot towards the end of the city, but Deacon stopped him, tugging on his duster.

“Wait! Before you go-” Deacon pulled his collar open, reaching into his sweater and pulling out a small badge. Graphite looked back, watching as Deacon pulled out the small metallic pin, “This button - a badge bestowed to me from the Enclave to show for my officership - shows that I have chosen to believe in what was required. I bestow this upon you, to show that you have chosen to believe in what was right.”

Graphite glared at the badge, confused and dazed, “What did you want me to do with this, Deacon?”

Deacon held out the pin closer to Graphite, almost pushing it on him, “Take them. Some things in life have a deeper meaning - a symbol of something more.”

Graphite grabbed the badge with his levitation, looking at the badge’s design. It was a polished silver badge with a big ‘E’ in the centre surrounded by a circle of stars of the same colour. He decided to pin the needle right through the collar of his duster, setting it straight and tidy just as an officer would, “Thanks, Deacon. I’ll be on my way now,” Graphite held out his hoof; Deacon was quick to grab it and shake it firmly, nodding at him just as he turned to head down the road.

Graphite trotted down the road, hoping to get through the market as quick as possible. The smell of the food starting to rot, and the poor ponies who couldn’t get running water for a shower started to build up all in the market area. He delved into the cloud of musk, shaking his head down as he entered.