Chapter 1: In which we meet Rusty and Elodie.
Author's note: hello, everyone brave enough to read this! Before you go on and try to make sense of this monstrosity, I need to get some boring details out of the way. I'd suggest just skimming this part, as it has some important details about the plot. I've been writing this for a while now, and the first two chapters are finished- I'll probably upload them on the same day. The third chapter is almost finished. Updates will hopefully be every month, but schoolwork and riding might get in the way of that. If you're planning to keep up with the story, I'll warn you that it will be from around 14 to 30 chapters, depending on how long each chapter is. The whole fighting style is modeled after WW2. It's not exactly a WW2 au, because that would require me having to write about some tricky racial issues. I'm going to skip over those. The time period that this is set in is the 40s. The cause of the war should be explained by chapter 8, so please don't ask me about it. All the main characters that will consistently have Povs are my ocs. Canon characters will start appearing around chapter 6. The Povs will change a lot. 4 characters will consistently have a Pov, but I'm going to throw in some others. The Povs of characters that will only get a pov once will start appearing in chapter 5. That's all the details out of the way. Constructive criticism would be great.
Your name is Rusty, and 3 months ago, your life was acceptable. Now it's turned to plain bullshit. You're in a trench while bombs are going off. Ponies are shooting and screaming and probably dying. Not probably. Definitely. At least it stopped raining.
You're not alone in the trench, making things more frustrating. If you had it your way, you'd do everything by yourself. Wedged into your side (and uncomfortably close) was Vodka, your almost mare friend. The two of you certainly looked the part. Beside you, on your other side, is Salem. Salem is 1 of your 5 younger siblings, making you the oldest. Your sister is quietly observing the situation. Her dog, Scout, (who she insisted on bringing) is sitting there, panting. Why the fuck do you need a dog? It's beyond you.
Next to the godforsaken dog is Connie, one of your only sane friends. She's actually concerned about the outcome of the war. Champagne, Connie's drunk half sister, is the last pony in the trench. She's muttering about twigs or birds or something-you can't make out her words and you don't think you want to. By now, all 6 of you, (including the dog) should be out of the trench. Obviously, you aren't. In a perfect world you would be fighting instead of hiding. But this isn't a perfect world by any standards. You're trapped.
The grenades are going off in every direction and bullets slice through the air. Not fun.
"We leaving?" Salem glances over at you as she speaks. You shrug.
Though you are sisters, you and Salem are different. She is a heavier built and short earth pony, whereas you are a lanky and tall unicorn. Her fur is a smokey gray and she has a short blue green mane with violet eyes and a few piercings. Apparently, (and you're really not sure you believe this) Salem can speak to ghosts. However, she's smarter than she sounds. When it comes to math, she knows her shit. You're a dirty copper color and have 1 eye that's a darkish blue gray. You lost your right eye in a gang fight (long story) so even though that eye isn't in your head, you wear a bandage to cover it up. Your mane and tail are black and a sort of dark red.
"I'd like an answer."
"I'd like you to shut up." Salem scowls at you.
"No one needs your smart mouth." You shrug again, rather than admit defeat. You'd never let anyone get the best of you.
The mare at your side stirs a little and you feel your face heat up. Fucking great.
"Marefriend can slheep but I din't?" Ah yes, the drunken questionnaires of Champagne.
"We ain't dating, and she's waking up. By the way, the words that come out of your mouth make no goddamn sense. All I hear is incessant babbling."
"Whats that maen?" She pronounces her words so awkwardly it makes you cringe. "It means shut the fuck up because you make no sense." Ok, so maybe you're a little harsh. More than just a little. Call it a defense mechanism, a way to keep everyone away from you. You're not proud of your dirty mouth and the fact you say ain't, but if it makes you more intimidating, you'll take it.
The dog growls. Stupid dog.
"We should go." Salem points out anxiously. "Like, now. We shouldn't wait." She's getting on your nerves.
"Lemme think." How are you supposed to leave and remain alive? You've seen a ponie's head get sliced clean off. Your enemies were brutal, no denying it. Though your life was far from perfect, you had only a small desire to die. If you did, then oh well, you're done for. If you don't, congratulations! You live another day. Living is definitely the more attractive option.
"I think I have an idea."
Your name is now Elodie. As you may have guessed, it's time for a pov switch. How exciting. You'd better get used to these.
As previously stated your name is Elodie, and as of now, you are enjoying the outdoors. Or rather, pretending to enjoy. You'd much rather be curled up inside with your tea and a murder mystery. For you, the coolest thing ever would be to solve a murder mystery. Unfortunately, your reading has been interrupted and you've been shoved outside.
The outside scares you. Bugs in particular freak you out. Where the fuck did they come from? Why do they bother you, of all ponies? It doesn't help your situation of being accused of having fleas. (And for the record, you don't.) You can ponder over life's mysteries later, because right now, you have a job. The very exciting job of buying bread. Woohoo.
Not all the errands your mother makes you do are bad. In your saddlebag, there are 20 bits. You grin kind of evilly to yourself because you have a plan. A plan that isn't necessarily for the greater good.
You like to refer to the walk to the bakery as the great outdoors. Maris, your hometown, is always overflowing with flowers, trees, and parks. It's also overwhelmingly clean. Kind of like being the country. The birds are singing, there are a shitload of bugs, and it's peaceful. In your neighborhood, you can't remember the last time there was a crime worse than a robbery. A good robber covers her tracks. Some idiots don't.
The bakery is a relatively small building, painted blue with green trim. (You're not crazy about the color scheme.) Cakes always display themselves in the windows. You'd like to stop and stare at the cakes, but you've done that a million times before and it's not productive. You're all about action, not waiting and wasting time.
Entering the building, you walk up to the counter. Well, first you have to wait in line. The floor is black and white checkered and the place smells so strongly of cake it almost knocks you over. There are some small black tables in the front.
When it's your turn to order, you don't get the bread. Instead, you settle for 6 cupcakes. Ok, so maybe that wasn't the intended use of your money. It didn't matter to you though, because you'd have the bread eventually. Maybe not now, but hopefully by tonight.
You sit down at one of the tables and eat a cupcake while thinking about how you're going to get that bread. You've been collecting details on the layout of the place for a while now, so you know that there is a back door. It remains locked at night. Opening it is a job for your trusty crowbar. That's one problem solved. You're guessing there's no one guarding the place, so you won't need your gun. As always, you will bring your knife. It makes you more confident when you know you have a weapon to use.
You're not a criminal mastermind, but most of your plans go smoothly. Little did you know that this skill would later save your life.
