A deep slumber with no rest, a reality that's not felt.

It was such a nice day, despite everything. She wouldn't ever forget it. The skies above Manehattan were as clear and sunny as could be, an ever so vibrant blue that just made one want to take advantage of it, to go out there and do something out in the open. The grass was of such a lively green that it evoked a feeling of freshness in the air. Perfectly trimmed and maintained trees worked in tandem with these other factors to form a picturesque image that did wonders for morale. Just walking through that square could make a pony want to puff their chest out, and go do useful things to protect it all.

She couldn't help but write that down as the result of propaganda and pro-war weathering rather than any kind of natural beauty worth being inspired by. No, the peacock blue unicorn carried with her an air of skepticism as she calmly paced through one of the many squares of the city. There was no sign forbidding her from walking on the grass, but she followed the pavement like everything else was lava. Her slate grey mane dragged alongside her hooves as she walked, loose and straight, constantly reminding her that she needed a haircut, with urgency. It fell towards one side only too, acting as a curtain to shield her from a whole half of what her line of sight would've been.

That was likely the reason she didn't see the black outline of something that seemed to blot out the sun for a moment. Her ears however, caught wind of the noise, a whistling not unlike that of a large object moving through the air at considerable speed. She looked up, and saw nothing strange. Then she inhaled, and blew her mane out of the way of her eyes, and finally spotted it. There was no need to compare the object to anything she'd seen before, because she knew what it was.

There was little to do other than sit her flank down on the cold pavement, and mutter a prayer or two, but this mare had never been the kind to believe in those things. Celestia could not protect her, and Luna could not defend her. Besides, asking the empty air seemed unlikely to help her. She'd lived a decent life as a cynical pony. She figured she might as well die a cynical pony. Thus, she shook her head to move her mane out of her face again, and looked up to the falling object, which had already gone through half of its admittedly short trajectory in the second or two it took the unicorn to come to terms with her imminent finality.

The bomb fell, and as the entire city was consumed by a seemingly infinite emerald brightness, that one cynical pony just sighed. She could hear the screams; she could feel the horror… No wait. That was just the burning sensation of everything around her being on the verge of destruction. Barely did she understand the functionality of the magical explosion that was taking place, but she was pretty sure that they were ever so thoroughly screwed, judging by the way the buildings in front of her started to, quite literally, disintegrate before her eyes.

She closed her eyes just as her entire world faded into oblivion.

When she opened them, she was still whole; still the same. And yet, she was another mare, somehow. Her body felt familiar, yet alien; comfortable, yet unwieldy; healthy, yet weak. She was not where she was when her eyes had come to a close, what felt like seconds ago. As the unicorn inspected her surroundings, she found herself in a large, circular room. The floor, wall, and ceilings were all made of what appeared to be large stone bricks for the most part. She was lying on a large circle in the very center of the area, consisting of many circles layered together. Rings, actually, since they seemed mobile. Every bit of the specific spot she was on appeared to be intricately carved and designed. Like unnecessarily complex ancient architecture. Perhaps it was some sort of ritualistic medium through which spells could be channeled? Nevertheless, her attention shifted to the rest of the place. It was immediately drawn to the more colorful things in the room: Other ponies.

The mare would've asked them so many questions, had they been alive. At first she thought them to be merely asleep, but the odd positions made her quickly discard that theory. She swallowed a knot that had formed in her throat, and walked over to one of them. The dead stallion wore a simple black robe, and looked like he'd been through strenuous pain during his last moments, judging by the shadow of an expression on his ace. The horn on his head seemed singed, as if someone had put a blowtorch to it. The mare couldn't fathom whatever might've happened to him.

A quick inspection led her to the conclusion that all of these male unicorns shared both the cause and time of death. During such a process, she thought about other things too. For example, who was she? She was, obviously, the mare in her dream. But who was that mare? She was her, evidently. This line of thought soon curved into a circle though, which soon complicated itself into a downwards spiral into panic. She didn't know who she was. Why was she there, who had these ponies been? Where was she? Another look around brought her attention back to one of the less alive ponies in the room. As she approached him, she noticed a considerable difference between this one and the rest of the corpses, which made her examine them once more.

Most of them shared the getup of robes and satchels, but this one was clad in black, leather barding, with a Kevlar vest on top, not unlike those worn by the police when they replaced the royal guards. It didn't match his clothes at all, though, and there was neither a plaque nor a uniform to be seen. With some guilt, she pushed the corpse over, and searched his pockets for any sort of identification.

A few minutes later, and the guilt had faded away, to be replaced with curiosity, and confusion. The nameless mare sat on her flank, in front of the carefully arranged belongings of the definitely-not-a-real-police-officer pony. She had a pile of… Sparklecola caps, the common ones too, not any kind of special caps. It was as if the stallion had had some strange obsession with bottle caps, because she counted at least a hundred there. They'd been contained in a leather pouch that had been strapped to a belt on his barding. Next to the pile, she'd placed a standard-issue 9mm that looked very policey, but really wasn't. It was in a state of disrepair that she didn't appreciate. Two spare clips lay next to it.

Next was a nasty looking knife with a jagged blade. Something about it didn't feel right, so she just avoided touching it. The rest was simple, yet bizarre. Some strips of raw flesh, salted and held together in leather bindings, a lighter and cigarettes, and what appeared to be a faded pornographic magazine that had seen better days. This was so unprofessional.

Turning away in some disgust, the mare found herself facing the only source of light: A torch put in a holder on the wall, next to the only connection the room had to the rest of the structure. A long hallway that grew too dark to see before it reached its end, a fact that intimidated her slightly. She'd just woken up to a bunch of dead ponies; nobody had showed up to check on them; the place was very creepy, and she was very tired. Perhaps continuing to explore could wait…

She needed to think. Maybe if she took some time to rest, she'd remember something… About herself, that is. She did remember things. Manehattan, her house, her neighbor, the war…

The war! The bomb, the explosion! Images of her dream shot through her mind in quick succession as she recalled part of it. She'd died! Why was she here, she couldn't have survived such an explosion. Where was she? Little, if any of Manehattan could've withstood those levels of destruction. There were too many questions and absolutely no answers that she could immediately discern.

Conflicted, the mare took the lighter from the dead pseudopolicepony, and muttered an apology to the corpse before making her way over to a corner. She picked the darkest one, where she crouched and put herself to rest under a table covered in books. This way, if someone came in, they wouldn't see her. She had little to no idea of what was going on, and she didn't want to end like those unicorns.

With a sigh, the nameless dreamer closed her eyes, and drifted off to have the exact same dream again.

A new game has been started.

Character: ?

Species: Unicorn

SPECIAL:

· Strength: 4

· Perception: 8

· Endurance: 5

· Charisma: 4

· Intelligence: 8

· Agility: 6

· Luck: 5

New Perk: A Dream of Change (You were about to lose your future when, instead, you had your past taken away from you. You cannot fit in with the crowd, and there is something eerie in your presence.)

A/N: Please be gentle. It's the first time I share my writing.