I had been shooting everypony since our crash incident 2 minutes ago, and I'm still not letting go. Laura Palmer and I have been hiding away in a small condo on the edge of the lake, watching for bypassers. I've been hearing things lately. Over something I feel—.
"I'm on fire!" screams Pinkie.
"I thought you were with Rudimental and Rarity," I ask.
"I betrayed them for Bastille, silly!"
"Awesome. Let's move!"
We walk out.
"A boat! That might help!" Pinkie states.
We hide in the boat. I see 5 or 6 ponies with paintball guns. And I shoot them. With authority. But maybe too much.
"I'm the dictator!" I scream.
"Shut up, you loud bastard!" Pinkie retorts.
"Oop..." I continue with this, "...you bring anything?"