July 9th, 2012
0527 Hours
Fort Benning, Georgia
US Army Private E-1 Patrick Wilcox
2nd Platoon
A welcoming comfort of silence relaxed Private Wilcox's aching muscles. Fresh out of high school, it was difficult to get used to the physical torture he and his friends went through everyday since arriving at the Fort Benning Army Infantry School for their Basic Combat Training.
Private Wilcox drifted in and out of what he thought was sleep. Most nights, he lay in his bunk with his eyes closed for the few hours 2nd Platoon's Drill Sergeant would allow him.
His aching feet, tendered by miles of pointless marching and running, pounded with each steady heartbeat. Patrick was an extremely light sleeper, and for once, the barracks were free of other recruits' snoring, coughs, and irritating sounds of activity.
It was odd, that it was so quiet. But that didn't matter, he was going to enjoy every second of this silence and actually get some sleep. That's when it hit him: it was quiet. It was never supposed to be quiet.
Patrick immediately shot up out of bed, his eyes frantically scanning the barracks. It was too quiet for a reason: He was the only one in bed.
His eyes darted to the source of almost all his insomnia: The ticking wall clock at the other side of the room.
"FUCK!" Patrick jumped out of his bunk with the speed of an Olympic athlete. He had only three minutes to join the morning company formation.
"Why didn't the intercom wake me up?" Patrick's mind raced.
"Why did no one wake me up?" He hastily tucked his bed sheets into the neatest fashion he could manage. It would likely fail inspection, but there would be time to fix it later.
His next move was to throw his fatigues on. Quickly, he tied his boots. With the time he used barreling out the door, his shirt was even more hastily buttoned and zipped than his bed was made.
Patrick burst through the doors, ignoring the stares from other platoons and officers. He jumped into line with his platoon just before the first PT call sounded across the intercom.
The recruit couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something, but there was no time to worry about that. He had to make it to roll call in time, or else he would kiss his pride and self-esteem goodbye at the hands of his senior drill instructor.
A few familiar faces, hands over their snickering mouths, gave Patrick an angry scowl.
"Why the fuck didn't you guys wake me up?" Patrick said through gritted teeth, staring straight ahead. The recruit made every attempt not to give the Drill Instructor something to call him out on.
"You looked comfy," Private Armistead jeered.
"Yeah," Private Campbell retorted. "Didn't want to piss you off or anything."
Patrick was about to reply when the drill sergeant began his routine morning defamation of their character, followed by their training schedules for that day.
Eventually, it was time for the morning two-mile jog. With every step, Private Wilcox's uniform felt awkwardly sluggish. Patrick looked down, and his eyes went wide in horror.
He was forgetting something: His belt. With every movement of his arm, he tried to pull his pants back up as inconspicuously as he could.
"What's the matter, man?" Private Reyes laughed.
"Fuck you," Patrick huffed, watching as the drill sergeant chewed another recruit out at the front of the line.
"Wilcox!" Staff Sergeant Bentley barked. "The next time I see you grab your pants, I'll shove my foot up your skinny white ass! Keep moving!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" Patrick called back.
Patrick was never on board with joining the Army in the first place. His worst fears about military service were confirmed when he met Staff Sergeant Bentley.
His meager attempts to hold his pants up without a belt were merely delaying the inevitable. After a few more strides, Patrick's pants fell from his waist and wrapped around his ankles, tripping him in the process. His entire platoon, still jogging around his pants-less form, erupted into a collective roar of laughter. Quickly, he pulled his pants back up and jumped back into running formation.
"Squad, hold the fuck up!" Staff Sergeant Bentley ordered. Obediently, the entire platoon slowed to a halt. Patrick's chest went cold as his drill sergeant approached him.
"Wilcox!" Staff Sergeant Bentley grabbed him by the collar, screaming right in his face. "Would you mind explaining to me why you aren't even capable of maintaining your pants at waist level?"
"Sir," Patrick gulped. "I-"
He froze up in fear, until Staff Sergeant Bentley shook him.
"Private Wilcox, are you so fucking retarded that you've forgotten the basic operation of forming words with your mouth? Answer me!"
"Sir!" Patrick responded. "Sir, the recruit forgot to put his belt on, sir!"
Staff Sergeant Bentley let Patrick out of his grip and crossed his arms.
"You forgot to put your belt on,"Staff Sergeant Bentley repeated.
"I'd forget to put my belt on too, if I slept in everyday and showed up to First Call later than your sister's un-aborted fetus!"
Patrick bowed his head in shame, listening to the suppressed laughter of his platoon, and even more humiliating, his best friends'.
"None of these other young men seem to have trouble keeping their pants on,"Staff Sergeant Bentley paced back and forth. "But for some reason, you can't even perform as simple a fucking task as dressing yourself!"
Patrick remained silent as the staff sergeant continued to verbally abuse him.
"If United States Army Issue lower fatigues are proving too complicated for you to operate, Private Wilcox, I hearby revoke your privilege to use them!"
"S…Sir?" Patrick whimpered.
"Since operating a pair of pants and belt seems to be too much of a challenge for that down-syndrome, autistic-ass piece of shit in your head you call a brain, take them off!"
Patrick looked down at his pants, barely clinging to his waist and ready to fall down again. Jose held a hand over his mouth, and the rest of his friends, along with the platoon, looked as though they were going to burst with laughter at any second.
It was then that Private Wilcox decided joining the military was, in fact, a terrible fucking idea. Even the idea of being homeless on the streets of Atlanta was sounding attractive now compared to this.
"DID I FUCKING STUTTER, PRIVATE?" The Staff Sergeant bellowed. "REMOVE YOUR LOWER FATIGUES AND RUN!"
Hesitantly, Patrick slid his pant legs over his boots and tied them around his neck. The exposure he felt was humiliating, the red, laughter-stricken faces of his comrades were even more so.
For the next sixty minutes, Patrick's underwear and pale white legs drew the attention of every other running platoon whose paths they crossed that morning. Finally, it was time for breakfast. Patrick never saw the logic in making sleep-deprived men run several miles before even eating, but it definitely broke the spirit into a submissive zombie ready to take any order given to it.
Patrick stood outside the mess hall, untying his pants form around his neck and getting ready to slip them back on. Suddenly, a tight grip ripped the garment from his hands and walked away.
"You can have these back after breakfast, soldier," Staff Sergeant Bentley nonchalantly twirled the pants in the air as he walked away from a bewildered, half-naked recruit.
Patrick grimaced as his platoon entered the mess hall.
"Cheer up, Patrick," Private Reyes tapped him on the shoulder. "It's gonna be a good-"
"Shut the fuck up, Jose."
The entire mess hall exploded into a storm of laughter. The commanding officers and drill sergeants were quick to maintain order, though. Anyone who couldn't hold their laughter was forced to do push-ups until breakfast was over.
"Nice ass," a recruit from another platoon remarked as he passed by Patrick.
Patrick stepped forward, but felt Jose pull him back.
"Trust me, bro," Jose whispered. "Definitely not worth going to the stockades."
"The shit you guys get me into," Patrick grumbled.
A bump in the road shook Patrick violently, scattering his thoughts. Hundreds of apples covered him from prying eyes as Big Macintosh smuggled him out of Canterlot.
Groggily, Patrick rose up, and dug himself out of the sea of apples that entombed him.
"So," Patrick yawned "Are we getting close?"
"Eeyup," Big Macintosh chewed on a blade of hayseed. "Wer' here."
"Huh?" Patrick examined his surroundings. He was in an alleyway, and recognized from the buildings and familiar cobblestone ground that it was Ponyville.
"I guess I nodded off," Patrick stretched, and lowered himself out of the apple cart. "You think my bike's still at the library?"
"Only one way ta' find out," Big Mac said.
"Right," Patrick was about to climb back into the apple cart, when an irritatingly familiar voice interrupted him.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing your face around here again," a gray stallion, sporting the same cocky grin as before, startled Patrick and Big Mac. His intimidating cohorts stood next to him, smirking diabolically.
Big Mac and Patrick exchanged nervous glances.
"I see your arm's healed up," Grayburn's pride was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.
"Well, that's good. In fact, I'm glad you're here," Grayburn held out a piece of paper for the two to see. "Because you're about to make the three of us some very wealthy stallions."
Patrick squinted his eyes and read the flier Grayburn presented to them. It was a wanted poster, offering 100,000 bits to the pony that could capture the human that attempted to assassinate Princess Celestia.
"Oh, you gotta' be kidding me," Patrick turned to Big Mac.
"So, are you going to come quietly?" One of Grayburn's minions taunted. "Or are we going to have to do this the hard way, again?"
Patrick was unarmed, but able bodied. However, charging into battle when you're underequipped, outmatched, and outnumbered has led many to their demise. It would be over in a second if he still had his Glock 23. Patrick felt naked without it, and wasn't used to depending only on his fists after always having a loaded weapon within reach for the past few years.
As the three began to approach them, Patrick made a subtle, swift movement with his head, hoping that Big Mac would catch his drift.
Thankfully, he did. Big Macintosh rocked the apple cart over with his weight, and quickly unhooked his yoke from the harness. It proceeded to cover the three stallions in an avalanche of ripened apples, stopping them in their tracks.
"RUN!" Patrick cried, and fled from the scene, Big Macintosh in suit. Patrick didn't know how many ponies knew he was a fugitive, or if the Royal Guard was deployed here, but he was not getting his ass kicked again, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give Grayburn the satisfaction of turning him in for a fortune.
Grayburn dug himself out of the cargo of apples and picked himself up.
"Don't just stand there, after them!"
Patrick and Big Mac tore through the Ponyville town center, knocking over a market stand in the process. The three stallions bent on wealth and fame broke after them, leaping over each obstacle the fleeing duo threw in their path.
Patrick had no idea where he was going, or which direction the library was in, so he ran in random directions, desperately trying to lose his pursuers. He turned a corner, and found himself trapped in an alleyway blocked by a wooden fence.
Big Macintosh rounded the corner just behind him and found himself in the same predicament. The fence was just too high to climb over, and it left them cornered.
"Stop right there!" Grayburn huffed, quickly collecting himself as his gang caught up with him. "You've got nowhere to run!"
Big Mac turned around to the fence, and then to Patrick.
"Ah can give you a boost over the fence," Big Mac said. "Ah'll stay here, just go!"
Big Macintosh put his hooves out so that Patrick could get a boost over the fence, but Patrick stood rooted to the spot.
"No," Patrick shook his head. "After you risking everything to help me, I'm not leaving you behind to get your ass kicked instead of mine."
Patrick looked Grayburn straight in the eye, feeling his heart burn with rage. The very same rage he felt when Celestia told him everything she was responsible for.
Getting struck by lightning, wrecking his bike, getting attacked by a manticore, having his ass handed to him, being humiliated, having his ass handed to him again, and learning that his life was just a tool for a talking, flying unicorn from the future. Patrick was filled with an unquenchable anger that was only building and building.
But now, he had finally found someone he could take it out on. Patrick was almost even thankful he had this encounter. He had been given a second chance to redeem himself after Grayburn humiliated him. And this time, he wasn't injured.
"Grab him!" Grayburn hollered. Grayburn advanced on Patrick, while his two friends went after Big Mac.
Patrick nodded to Big Mac, the red stallion returning his nod. The two stallions tried viscously to attack Big Macintosh and bring him to the ground, but he was just too big. Big Mac kicked and bucked violently, throwing one of the stallions into a wall with a painful THUMP!
Grayburn struck out at Patrick, but he quickly stepped out of the way loosened his stance. It was all coming back to him now. The hand-to-hand combat training the United States Army had engraved into the young man's mind began to take over. Patrick stepped on the balls of his feet, bending his knees and bringing up his hands.
The stallion alarmingly noticed Patrick was using some sort of technique. Grayburn made an attempt to hurl a hoof at his head. Almost instinctively, Patrick bladed the attack meant for his face with his forearm, a standard blocking procedure in military hand-to-hand combat. Although, in this case, it was hand-to-hoof.
Patrick pulled his fist back and decked Grayburn square in the jaw, causing him to spit blood. He rushed forward and bucked Patrick into the wooden fence, making the wood splinter and several boards crack. The human jumped up to his feet, tackling him and locking him in a painful choke hold.
Grayburn bit into Patrick's arm, causing the human to cry out in pain and release him. The stallion managed to swing an uppercut while Patrick still flailed on the ground, but Patrick swept Grayburn off his hooves with a well-placed kick to the abdomen, and got back on his feet.
Big Mac's situation was comparable to that of a woolly mammoth attempting to fight off a pack of wolves. He was strong, but slow, and they were, weak, but fast. Big Mac cringed, as he was too slow to move out of the way before one of the stallions could deal a fresh blow to his face.
Big Macintosh used his size to his advantage, though. After many failed attempts, he flung his weight into each stallion and body slammed them to the ground repeatedly. After it looked like their efforts would be in vain, they backed off, fleeing from the alleyway and leaving their leader all on his own. Some loyal friends they turned out to be.
Grayburn, however, was still going at it with the human that would make him rich. Patrick was thrown into the fence again, splitting one of the boards in two. The two halves of the board loosely clung to the fence, just loose enough for Patrick to yank one half out by the nail.
Putting a bullet in Grayburn's head would be satisfying. But blunt force trauma would be even more so.
SNAP!
Patrick swung his bludgeon right across Grayburn's face, causing the wood to break and splinter into several small shards.
Grayburn rolled across the ground, blood dribbling from his snout and his mouth. Grayburn had flown back so far that the fight had moved outside the alleyway, and was now in full view of the general public.
Patrick grabbed Grayburn by the neck, but Grayburn headbutted Patrick's skull, causing his vision to flash for a millisecond. The stallion pounded Patrick's face before he could shake him off.
It was then that Ace, Equestria's fourth best tennis player, obliviously strolled into the fighting human and stallion's path, knocking all three of them over. Ace's racket clamored to the ground, which caught Patrick's eye.
Patrick grabbed the racket from Ace's side and walked purposely towards Grayburn, still reeling from the fall.
"Hey!" Ace yelled. "What are you doing with my racket?"
Patrick ignored the tennis playing pony and cleared his throat.
"Hey, asshole!" Patrick shouted just before the stallion could pick himself up.
Grayburn spun around, and shrank back in horror when he saw what Patrick strolling up to him with the racket in hand.
Oh no, it was one thing if he was just some pony trying to collect a bounty on him. That he could forgive. But this… This was payback.
"PAYBACK'S A BITCH!"
Patrick lunged forward and brought the racket down over Grayburn's head. The nylon strings broke over his head, sliding down over his neck like a necklace. Grayburn collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain.
"What's the matter?" Patrick kicked him in the ribs. "I thought you were some big, unstoppable badass?"
Grayburn coughed, spitting out a tooth onto the ground.
"I thought you ran this town?" Patrick struck him again, literally adding insult to injury.
Grayburn crawled across the ground, letting a smeared, red stain seep into the cracks of the cobblestone plaza.
More than a dozen ponies had begun to watch Patrick senselessly beat Grayburn, before Big Mac stepped in.
"That's enough," Big Mac put a hoof on Patrick's shoulder. "Ah'm sure y'all got a lot of pent up rage, but at least show some dignity."
"Yeah, you're right," Patrick wiped a mixture of blood and sweat off his face.
The two grew increasingly anxious as the presence of pony bystanders, drawn by the fight, continued to grow.
If Grayburn had seen a wanted poster of Patrick, it was likely that the rest of them had too. Now was definitely the cue to leave, before another ambitious, amateur bounty hunter decided to try and apprehend him.
Big Macintosh and Patrick anxiously pushed through the crowd of ponies, heading towards the Ponyville Library. It was unlikely that Twilight would be home from Canterlot yet, and that was the last pony he needed to run into right now. All he had to do was run inside, grab his gear and his belongings, and make a break for it.
"Well, here we are," Big Mac gestured to the library. Sure enough, his loyal Honda CBR was waiting for him outside.
Patrick let out a sigh of relief, and turned to Big Mac.
"Listen, I-" Patrick stammered. "I really don't know what to say. Just thank you, for having my back."
"Mah' pleasure," Big Mac tended a bruise on his face. "Y'all should probly' go, now."
"Eeyup," Patrick responded, shaking Big Macintosh's hoof.
"Good luck with everythin'. Take it easy, now," Big Macintosh began the long trek back to the farm. It was going to be a very sore apple-bucking season for the next few weeks.
Patrick faced the library and sighed. He inspected his motorcycle to make sure there were no signs of tampering, but refrained from starting it up.
"Okay," Patrick thought. "Run in, grab my stuff, and get the fuck out."
Patrick burst through the door, surprising Spike as he struggled to maintain his balance on a shelf ladder. He toppled over into a mountain of books.
"Hey!" Spike cried. "W-What are you doing here?"
Patrick did not respond. He raced up the stairs and tore through the dresser he'd been keeping his things in.
He slung a messenger bag Rarity had given him and threw his remaining packs of cigarettes, as well as the holster for his Glock 23 and the magazine with ten rounds still inside. They would probably be useless, but it wouldn't hurt to bring them and ditch them along the way. The only thing Patrick left were his motorcycle boots. They wouldn't fit in the bag, and they would only weigh him down.
"Hey!" Spike ran to the top of the stairs and crossed his arms. "I'm talkin' to you!"
Patrick slipped into his jacket and zipped it up. He slid his helmet on and buckled it to his chin.
"You tried to kill the princess!" Spike spat angrily. Patrick paid him no mind. "You think you can just get away with something like that?"
Patrick decided it wasn't worth it, and put on his gloves, fastening the Velcro straps tight.
He moved towards the stairs, but Spike refused to budge.
"Out of the way, squirt," Patrick growled.
"No!" Spike said defiantly. "I'm not moving!"
"Fine, then," Patrick effortlessly stepped right by the young dragon, despite Spike's best efforts to stop him.
Spike ran to a writing desk and dipped a quill in ink. He furiously scribbled a message onto a sheet of paper.
Patrick's eyes went wide, realizing what he was doing. He turned around and tackled spike just after the dragon blew enchanted fire onto the letter, sending it on its way.
"FUCK!" Patrick gasped, pulling himself to his feet and running for the door.
"Yeah, that's what I thought!" Spike laughed. "Not so tough when Twilight shows up, are you?
Patrick bolted out the door and mounted his Honda CBR. He inserted the key into the ignition and pressed the starter.
"Come on, Come on," Patrick pleaded with his bike. The engine chirped in long, drawn out sequences, desperately trying to turn over. It had been sitting for sometime, making a cold start-up more difficult than usual. Patrick twisted the throttle, allowing gas to flow into the fuel pump, and held down the starter once more.
Finally, the spark plugs ignited the gasoline and started the engine. Patrick pinned the throttle in neutral and let his engine roar as loud as it could, making several birds fly from their nests in the trees.
Just as Patrick was about to shift into first gear, a flash of blinding light shined in front of him.
Twilight, a furious expression on her face, stood offensively with her horn glowing and aimed directly at Patrick.
"Where do you think you're going?" Twilight scowled. "Did you really think you could just try to assassinate Princess Celestia and escape, just like that?"
"She killed my best friends, right in front of me!" Patrick screamed at the top of his lungs.
"How would you react if some bitch was responsible for killing your friends, destroying your family, AND YOUR LIFE?"
"That bitch happens to be my mentor!" Twilight replied.
"So, you'll still stand by your mentor after she lies right to your face, and murders innocent people?" Patrick rebutted. "Wow, you really are brainwashed. You'd do well in my military, Twilight. Taking orders, obediently and blindly following your superiors, no matter what atrocities they commit!"
"She did everything for a reason!" Twilight argued. "The Nightmare is coming back! Bringing you here and changing your past was the only thing that can stop it! How can you be so selfish? Why can't you just forgive her and help us?"
"Forgive her?" Patrick repeated. "Imagine losing your friends! Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy. Imagine if Celestia did that to you, to your best friends! And not only that, to your family!"
Patrick threw his head back in frustration, seeing that she would not put herself in his shoes. Not that they would fit her hooves, anyway.
"My entire world was wiped out thousands of years ago! She refused to save my people, because then it would prevent yours from existing, but she still wants me to save Equestria!"
Twilight's horn ceased glowing, and her face went low. She finally had the least bit of empathy for Patrick's situation.
"So don't even fucking talk to me about being selfish!"
"But, what about the Nightmare?" Twilight said. "What are we supposed to do, now? What's going to happen to Equestria?"
"Quite frankly," Patrick responded. "I don't really give a shit. I've been ready to die since I pulled the trigger yesterday."
Twilight dropped her eyes to the ground, and slowly sulked back into the library. She swung the door open with her magic.
"Fine," Twilight muttered. "Just go. You're better off on your own, anyway."
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Patrick all by himself. He gazed at the fuel tank on his dashboard as the engine hummed. He had a little over half a tank left. With these road conditions, that could mean anywhere between one hundred or one hundred and fifty miles before he ran out of gas, and had to ditch this thing.
Patrick squeezed the clutch and shifted into gear, taking off down the dusty road leading into the Everfree forest. A monster-infested forest was probably not the smartest place to go when he was unarmed, but since every pony in Ponyville was probably buzzing about the human that showed up, beat up a thug, and rode off into the sunset, the Royal Guard couldn't be far behind.
"It's gonna be a good day," Patrick sighed as the canopy of the Everfree Forest enveloped him in its shade.
36 hours ago…
"Alright, then!" Rainbow Dash turned to Applejack. "Let's get to work."
Out of the corner of the room, a transparent blur stealthily made its way out the window, floating off into the sky without alerting any of the royal guests.
Luna landed in a separate part of the castle, disengaging her invisibility spell. What was she to do?
She knew of the ponies' plot to free Patrick, the right thing to do would be to tell Celestia immediately.
But then, what would happen to them? Celestia may not be as forgiving to the elements of harmony now, what if they suffered the same fate as her? What if Celestia really would banish them?
And what if the right thing to do was to go against her own blood, let the human escape, even aid him in it?
Celestia would still be able to find Patrick, even if the unicorn cast a spell to block her. The Royal Guard had stripped him of his weapon, where it was currently, Luna couldn't say. By having something of Patrick's in her possession, Celestia would still have a link to him. Only magic used by an Alicorn, or more recently, as she'd learned, a human, would successfully block out Patrick from the eyes of Alicorn magic.
It would be too obvious if Luna interfered, being the only other Alicorn in known Equestria. But if she could find out what happened to that weapon…
…And it somehow found its way back into Patrick's possession, then maybe he'd have a chance.
A chance, and that was it. Provided they were able to combat the Nightmare, when and if it attacked. She would still be able to plead ignorance to her sister, and the human would be freed.
Luna shook the thought out of her head, ruffling her mane.
"No," she thought. "Perhaps if he didn't try to kill my own sister, I'd be more willing to help him." She needed to tell Celestia at once.
Luna strolled the castle halls, each and every Royal Guard snapping to attention in respect. Since the assassination attempt, security was heightened all throughout Canterlot.
A generously decorated door, framed by golden plates resembling the sun's rays, led to Celestia's bedchambers. Luna approached the door, flanked by two Royal Unicorn guards.
"Your highness," the guard bowed. "Celestia has confined herself to her chambers for a meditation session. She has asked to be left alone."
"I see," Luna replied. "But I must speak to her at once. Please let me through."
"As you wish." The guards stepped out of the way as she entered, shutting the doors behind her.
Celestia's bedchambers was like a luxurious hotel suite a commoner could only dream of. Sitting next to a fireplace on a seat cushion was the sun princess, her head bowed in a meditative trance. She didn't seem to acknowledge Luna's presence.
Sitting on a table was the human-turned-assassin's weapon. In neat rows adjacent to the hand-cannon were the shells of the projectiles it spat, and the projectiles themselves; flattened and deformed from their failed impacts.
"Sister!" Luna almost called out, but she held back. Curiosity compelled her to find out what her sister was doing.
Luna cast her invisibility spell, turning her body into nothing more than a patch of transparent air to the naked eye.
Celestia seemed to be mumbling something, but Luna was too far away to hear. She gently lifted herself up off the ground with her wings, so as to avoid the noise of her hoofsteps, and quietly floated within earshot of Celestia's ramblings.
"-I just wasn't anticipating for him to find out like this. He found a collection of human artifacts kept here in the castle."
There was a long silence. Celestia's horn glowed faintly, shining a small light out in the dim firelight.
"There is not enough time to cast the time spell again. I'm at a loss for what the next course of action should be."
Luna held her breath, keeping as quiet and still as possible.
"I only wish it wouldn't have had to be done this way. And now, it was all for nothing. The Nightmare could begin its attack at any time, and I am not able to stop it. Only he is."
Luna's heart went cold at the mere mention of the Nightmare. She desperately wished she could hear the other end of the conversation. Who was Celestia talking to?
"The Nightmare will attack very soon, and many of my little ponies will die. You may be able to change his mind, but remember the circumstances. If he knows that humanity will be saved, then the Elements of Harmony will not be strong enough to defeat the Nightmare. Only when his broken spirit chooses to help Equestria out of the kindness of his heart, will you be able to use the elements to their full capacity, and finally eradicate the Nightmare."
Celestia was silent for nearly five minutes. Luna almost undid her invisibility spell, as it seemed Celestia was finished. But she continued to wait, and her patience did not go unrewarded.
"I understand," Celestia finally uttered. "Then I shall let him. I cannot allow the Nightmare to destroy my kingdom. How Equestria or my sister will fare without me, I can't say. But, I am willing to take that sacrifice."
"-And…" Celestia murmured so quietly that Luna had to prick up her ears.
"I'm sorry," several tears began to drip down Celestia's face.
"I-I'm sorry, Jose."
The Nightmare took a moment to appreciate its work after spending the past several days working non-stop. It gazed upon its recently acquired goldmine: a fully repaired, fully operational arsenal of ancient nuclear warheads.
It used its own magic to cast a spell upon them, the magic mixing with their radioactive cores. Not only would the detonation be devastating, and the fallout lasting for years to come, the vicinity in which they were detonated would no longer be able to support magic.
The human compound they resided in, even in its ruined state, was a wealth of knowledge. Artifacts in this structure solved problems nopony in Equestria's current society could answer to.
Everything was in place, and the time for the Nightmare to act couldn't be any better. Equestria would not suspect any attack after it had been "defeated" at the Summer Sun Celebration, and everypony thought that the Nightmare was no more.
Equestria's major cities and its royalty were also a bit preoccupied with a recent failed assassination attempt. It was a pity it wasn't successful, it would have just made the Nightmare's job that much easier.
But what was intriguing about the assassin was that it was the human that had arrived in Equestria several weeks ago. It was unlikely that this human would show up without the divine intervention of Celestia herself. However, it still was not worth revealing itself to eliminate him, only for Celestia to banish it once more.
And from what the Nightmare had observed, this human must have something very strong against Celestia to even attempt an act unthinkable to most ponies in her kingdom.
Whoever this human was, he obviously did not pose a threat. Whatever Celestia had been planning backfired, leaving absolutely nothing that could stop the Nightmare.
Except, as always, the Elements of Harmony. If used correctly, they would threaten the Nightmare's very existence. The secrets to the Elements were lost when those who came before disappeared. But Celestia's only defense was banishment, and banishment would not stop the Nightmare forever.
The Nightmare had put quite enough thought into this. It was finally time to put the royal sisters in their place, putting an end to their rule once and for all. The human weaponry the Nightmare had painstakingly repaired and modified with its dark magic were ready. After taking the time to understand how these weapons worked, creating more was no longer beyond the Nightmare's capability.
The plan was simple: Disrupt Equestria's society by destroying its major cities. Not only would the anti-magic provide the Nightmare with safe havens, but the dust from the burning cities and landscapes would block out the sun. It would not be an eternal night, but Celestia's uneducated populace wouldn't know the difference.
Equestria would slip into anarchy, and support for the royalty would be diminished, while the Nightmare would rise. Crops would fail, economies would collapse, and with Celestia and Luna gone, the Nightmare could create a world in its own image. A world much like the humans' time: Where discovery, progress, and knowledge are pursued over the values of life, love, and welfare. It would be their god.
After meticulous preparation and forethought, the Nightmare formulated each step of its plan very carefully. An ideal first strike would be Canterlot, but there was always the possibility of banishment if the Nightmare wasn't quick enough. It needed to be a city of high importance and high population, it's destruction needed to make a significant impact before the next detonation would take place. After much thought, the Nightmare's first target was set on Manehattan: A large, well-known metropolitan city.
The Nightmare cast a teleportation spell, carrying the weaponry it had worked so hard to refurbish and manipulate to its liking. It was now or never.
Twilight sighed as she watched Patrick ride off from the library window. He eventually disappeared off into the distance, the incessant hum of his engine no longer in earshot.
"See?" Spike picked up the piles of books he had fallen into. "I don't want to say I told you so, but…"
"I don't know Spike," Twilight contemplated the conversation he just had with Patrick. "I'm beginning to think that maybe he was right."
"What?" Spike raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure trying to kill the princess isn't right."
"I know Celestia only did everything with saving Equestria in mind," she stated. "But she made him lose his friends."
"His friends?" Spike gave her his full attention.
"I didn't mention everything in the letter I sent you about it, Spike. I was just a little too shook up," she explained. "Celestia changed his past, so that he would be what Equestria needed to stop the Nightmare."
"Like... How?" Spike asked. "What does this have to do with losing his friends?"
"Well," Twilight licked her lips. "He says he watched them die, when he fought in a war, and something about his family being torn apart. Celestia admitted to making that happen."
"Wait, hold up, Princess Celestia did that? Are you sure we have the right Princess?"
"Yes, Spike," she nodded. "I'm sure."
Spike opened his mouth to speak, but fell short of words.
"And I can't imagine what I would do if I lost my friends," Twilight said.
Spike had just finished putting the last fallen book off the shelf, when a low rumble began to shake the library. The branches of the giant oak tree it was carved into shook violently, knocking a majority of the books off the shelves and picture frames from the walls.
"W-w-w-what's g-g-g-o-i-i-i-n-n-n-g-g-g o-o-o-n-n-n?" Spike was rattled back and forth on the floor.
"Earthquake!" Twilight cried, throwing Spike onto her back and ducking under a writing desk. Finally, the tremor stopped, and all was calm once again.
"I-is it over?" Spike whispered.
"I think so," Twilight answered.
The library was a total mess. Every last book was thrown off the shelves, and furniture became overturned. Cautiously, they poked their heads out the front door to see if there was any further damage outside.
"Um, Twilight?" Spike pointed across the horizon. "What's that?"
A dark, foreboding mushroom cloud loomed off in the distance in the direction of Manehattan. It slowly crept towards the sky, smothering the sun and tinting the sky into a hideous greenish-yellow.
Twilight's heart nearly skipped a beat, watching as the cloud slowly churned and curled.
"It's the Nightmare."