Nopony had stopped her as she walked through the Headquarters. The only sound to her twitching ears was the ripple of flags coming from outside, it was like two wet strips of fabric being slapped against a boulder. Fleetfire trotted past clusters of other ponies quietly going about their daily business, some with wounds as a statement to that one unseemly fact. Outside, the flags continued to billow like waves in a storm, rolling and crashing in the grey mist of nothingness. Fleetfire was in a mist now, for though she knew where she stood, she was still as lost as a babe in the woods.
Her mind wandered as she walked. To memories of other times, haunts of what had passed polluted her mind; not had she escaped from the fallout that she had just hidden from it. Fleetfire was infected with a chasmic loss deeper than the depths of space; it might as well have been a cosmic loss, but Fleetfire's mind sought a firmament of will that was hard to possess in this difficult age. Her eyes threatened to leak out the deep sense of loss that emanated from within, but not if she could help it. Before the war, before the world she knew was reforged by the nuclear storm of that- that bastard!
The Advisor's dogs were still hunting, that much Fleetfire knew. When there was no hunting, no bandits, no radiation... There was her beautiful, her wonderful daughter, Petalglow. Fleetfire's heart slammed against her ribcage, like some caged beast howling to be set free. Cautiously, she wiped a loose tear from her cheek and let her hooves carry her down a starkly lit corridor. Her mind continued to buzz with renewed emotions. The day, she thought, her lower lip quivering dangerously. When it had happened. We-
Another shudder of pure emotion ran through Fleet and she had to grip a rail siding conveniently attached to the alabaster wall.
With deep intakes of breath, Fleetfire looked down the corridor, her glistening eyes imploring. The past could not be changed, but still the truth of what had happened was relived in her head. It was like a cruel jape that would never leave, but wait dormantly in the subconscious like a hungry predator watching its prey. There's no more 'we', she thought, but the truth only hurt more. Moreso than the lies she had once tried to tell herself. You cannot hide from the past. With a grunt of disgust, she continued down the corridor. Now even my own conscience is taunting me.
Finally, she had reached the corridor's end. A wooden door guarded the office of Commander SilverWings. She pushed against the wood, trying her best to smile; something she rarely did nowadays. She stepped into the office, a smile on her face, a greeting upon her tongue. But the room was empty, devoid of any life, just like...
Fleetfire sighed emotively as she slowly traced a hoof around the wooden table edge. She reached SilverWings' chair and slid into it. Forlorn, she tried to cancel out her thoughts, but to no avail.
She was in a storm. Brittle wind snapped at her face like an angry snake, but she continued to move, unrelenting against the world. Every piece of foliage, every tree, every bush, all swayed and creaked in the fierceness of the storm. Fleetfire heard only the sound of the howling wind at first, but then a voice called her name. She turned to see her daughter, Petalglow. The young pegasus with a white bodice and light pink mane galloped up to her and they embraced warmly... Though a remnant of the past had never felt colder. Fleetfire pulled Petalglow along. They were going to the Fallout Shelter beneath Apple Acres.
Soon enough, they had reached the barn. A queue of ponies filtered through the entrance to the vault like ants into a molehill, desperate to escape the rain...
In the chaos, Fleetfire wrapped her hooves protectively around her daughter. But even that could not save her from what was to come. "The world is going to burn!"
Heads turned, Fleetfire looked around and realized the voice had come from directly behind her. A crazed looking earth pony with yellow eyes and a grey mane waved a pistol wildly. "We cannot escaped the fire! All will burn."
Petalglow wrapped her hooves tighter around her mother. Fleetfire swallowed anxiously and stroked her daughter's mane to comfort her.
"Sir," Fleetfire began, but stopped as soon as she saw the gun pointed directly into her face. She stepped back slowly, also pushing her daughter back with one hoof. "This," the mad pony said, gesturing to the pistol, "this is the easy way out. Trust me."
And that was when he turned and put a bullet into Petalglow. At first, Fleetfire heard the shot, but it took her some time to find the strength to turn her head. When she did, she saw Petalglow whimpering in a puddle of rapidly spreading blood. She choked on tears and horror and threw herself down beside her only child.
Eyes staring upward, Petalglow wept in agony and whimpered as the pain hit her like dark waves of cruelty. Fleetfire wept too, but in hopelessness. Do something, her mind screamed, she's dying and you're all just stood there! Her daughter shuddered violently as the pain took control, but still none would move to help. "Do something!" she screamed at the spectators. A bullet was fired and the earth pony who had shot her daughter hit the ground beside her, a bullet marking the one place on his body that had clearly broken. Petalglow started to breathe very fast. Blood spotted her lips, her beautiful young face a mask of sheer agony. "Hold on, baby," Fleet whispered to Petalglow, her eyes strained and desperate, "don't leave me, please. Please."
Fleetfire sobbed wretchedly into her daughter's bloodsoaked body as the spasms began to slow down, and her breathing settled. "No," Fleet wept, "not like this."
But before the paramedics could even begin, Petalglow finished. One last breath rattled through those tiny lungs and all was quiet. Staring, Fleetfire wrapped one small bloodstained hoof around her own and sat unmoving as the paramedics got to work. Nought would have made a difference, it was all over. The silence marked the death of a young filly who had barely started in life. Fleetfire's cold eyes turned and fixated on the unseeing eyes of the dead earth pony who lay in the dirt in a pool of his own blood, still leaking from the wound in his head. The pistol he had used lay beside him, sticky and red. Her heart ached dully, blacking out all protests of her mind. Fleetfire reached down and picked up the pistol, pulling back the slide until it clicked.
She despised the weapon. With deliberative motion, she turned the pistol around until it faced her and placed the barrel in her mouth. She felt the trigger and let one more tear hit the ground before she pulled. Nothing. She pulled it again, the pistol clicked emptily. She cursed and hurled the gun to the ground and stomped on it in a sudden flurry of rage and grief. When the gun was cracked and useless, Fleetfire forced herself to stop. When she did, dizziness took over and she hit the ground. Darkness clouded in on her vision, just as she was swept off the ground and carried into the vault. That was when the explosions started.
Back in the office, Fleetfire leant back in the chair with a heavy sigh. The past was past, she often used to say. Why then did it hurt so much? She shrugged awkwardly, like it was some inner conversation, and delved into her innermost being for some form of an answer. She found none. Hopefully whoever was running this joint would return soon, she thought. Until then, she planned to stay here.
Edited by Greebster, 26 September 2013 - 08:35 AM.