Fallout Equestria: Las Pegasus

“Oh what’s the point?” Steele mumbled, tossing his pillow to the side and sitting upright.

He ran a hoof through his ruffled mane, and directed his attention the loudly snoring courier across the room. The combination of Hermes’s snoring and Steele’s nagging conscience made sleep impossible. Steele wiped the sweat off his brow, and brought a single revolver with him as he left a loudly snoring Hermes and all their gear alone, a decision that normally he would never consider; and that was the problem. What is wrong with me He wondered? He’d gone from the lone badass wanderer of the Mojave, to the baby sitter of a domestic courier and a griffon that was a long way from home.

Steele crept away from the hotel and came to sit by Marty, the manticore; the massive presence of the pre-war attraction was oddly comforting and Steele unwound. The silence and vast emptiness of the Mojave desert brought a welcome sense of tranquility to Steele’s chaotic thoughts. It was just him, the calming silence, and his past scars no longer concealed by his signature garb.

“Not a bad night to think eh, Marty?” Steele asked the giant fading attraction.

He chuckled for a bit. Maybe talking to a giant fake manticore wasn’t the best way to try and convince himself he wasn’t going crazy. He was getting soft, and the scars that his jet black coat tried to hide reminded him that was not a good thing. What was friendship in a place like the Mojave? A place where survival took priority, and things got done by either spilling blood or manipulating others to do it for you. What can friendship do for me? For anyone? He wondered. Why did he even begin to consider what Hermes told him? He knew it would get them nowhere, and yet he listened anyway. Was he really that naive? No, If he was then he would not have survived to bear the scars of his past. Still, there was something that made him reconsider. Something that Steel knew had made him do things he considered stupid.

Hope. Although the Mojave can often make you confuse that word with desperation, this was different; this was hope. Steele wanted to believe Hermes. He hoped that what Hermes had told him was true. Hoped that friendship was the solution to his worries. Hoped that friends would take away the pain of his past.

Steele played with the sand under his hooves. He was tired of running; of fearing everyday to a point where the next was met with desperate aggression in an attempt to survive it. He was tired of not dying, he wanted to live, to experience life the way his colt tales painted it. Maybe that’s why he listened, because of how badly he wanted it to be true.

A quiet flap sent Steele into action. He levitated his revolver and scanned his moonlit surroundings for the intruder. It wasn’t uncommon for a pegasus bandit to roam the skies at night in these parts, and Steele scanned the skies. Another thump behind him, and he turned to greet his potential attacker with the barrel of his gun.

“Can’t sleep either?” Scratch asked. She ignored the gun and looked straight ahead, toward the night sky.

“No Hermes’s snoring is keeping me up.” Steele answered, grabbing a seat next to his newest companion.

“That’s not the only thing, is it?” Scratch asked. There was something in her voice that suggested she knew more about what Steele was going through then she let onto.

“Same thing that’s probably keeping you up too I suppose.” Steele answered. He didn’t know what Scratch had meant, nor how much she knew, so he decided to play this game a little longer and hope to not have to say more than he needed to.

“If by that you mean this whole friendship thing… then yea. I just can’t get around to it you know?” Scratch sighed and clawed at the sand. Steele could tell she wasn’t one to like sharing her problems either. “I’ve been places Steele. I’ve been further east, but all I saw there were griffon mercenaries and a strong prejudice from the fascist Pegasus Army. That was years ago, but by the looks of things it would take nothing short of a miracle to change that.”

“And it seems that nowadays the world is awfully short on those, huh?” Steele asked. Getting this kind of information from a toughie like scratch was rare, and he was glad Scratch felt safe enough share. After all, it was something even he didn’t think he’d be strong enough to do. Scratch nodded and continued with her story.

“I fled west, thinking that maybe there was something else out there. A place where I wouldn’t have to claw for survival and equal treatment. I thought that after the world went to shit, who you were before and what your forefathers had done would not matter. I was wrong." Scratch sighed and began to trace circles in the sand. "All my life I had to deal with ponies mocking me, doing everything they can to make my life harder, and even trying to kill me for what I was. No matter what I’d do I’d either have to intimidate my way to fair treatment, or fight for my right to live." She explained bitterly, crushing her traces with her claw. "I gave up on you ponies a long time ago, but now I get compassion from one hell of a weird duo: a saint and his hardhearted mercenary companion." Scratch giggled. "It all just feels like some kind of bad joke." She said skeptically.

"Hermes is the companion." Steele sternly corrected. The odd pair shared a quick laugh.

"See I just don't get it." Scratch began; she poked a claw at Steele's chest. "The last time I met someone like you I had barely escaped alive.” Scratch leaned back onto her arms. “I don’t know if I can buy this friendship crap, but from what Hermes tells me, I don't think a stallion with your past can either. So what gives? Why the hell is someone with the scars from a life of hell with someone like Hermes? Are you in it for the caps, the adventure, to get to Las Pegasus? What gives, Steele? I wanna know.”

That was one hell of a good question, and Steele took a moment to think of what to say, but coming up short on an answer he gave up and sighed.

“Honestly… I don’t know either. I ask myself why I continue to do what I do everyday, but I always come up short when I get to the answer. I guess the reason I’m with the annoying bastard is because I want to believe him. You and I both know the Mojave sucks when you’re alone, and I’m tired of it. Everyday it’s just survive, but what about living!? What about having motivation other than making it to tomorrow? I don’t know if this friendship thing is going to solve all my problems, and it probably never is, but it sure as hell beats having to wallow through this shit-hole alone. I can’t lie it is really hard to take in, considering everything I’ve been through suggests otherwise, but what other choice do I have? I may have gotten softer, but It earned me some caps, an annoying bastard with a targeting computer strapped to his eyes, and a griffon that can back me up in a fight.” Steele turned to Scratch to find that she had been watching him the whole time. “I have a lot of regrets, following through with this stupid quest is one of them, but you two aren’t.” He finished.

“Thanks, Steele.” Was her only reply,but Steele knew that it meant more than what she would let on.

“What are friends for.”

“Hey you guys, if you wanted time alone this badly you could have just shared a room you know.” Hermes interrupted. He was still rubbing his eyes and yawning when he walked up to his friends. “Hey what gives!?” He yelped when he was pulled down by the neck and head-locked by Scratch, who began to give him one hell of a noogie. “Ow, ouch, stop it!” He squirmed.

“Are you going to knock it off?” Scratch asked.

“Yea I will, just knock it off!” He pleaded.

Scratch released him, and Steele punched his shoulder. "We're even now." He said.

“Jeez! It’s only been half a day, and you two are already working in tangent against me.” Hermes complained, rubbing his sore head and shoulder.

“Hey, I had to get my revenge in there somewhere.” Steele laughed; he was shortly joined by Scratch.

“Very funny you two." Hermes complained, looking sour. What the hell are you guys doing out here anyway?” He asked. This was weird, too weird. The two toughest characters he knew where joking around and being playfully mean to him. Something was up.

“Suffering from insomnia.” Steele explained.

"He means his ears are still ringing from your snoring." Scratch added, eliciting a laugh from Steele.

“Okay, I’m dreaming. You two are getting along way too well, and oddly enough are nicer to me than usual. I’m going back to bed, and pretending this never happened.” Hermes answered, leaving Scratch and Steele to laugh for a bit before settling down for the rest of the night.

For once Steele felt alive. Having a funny moment with your friends for the first time does that to a guy, and he fell asleep content. He wasn’t going to have trouble sleeping this night.

***

“Hey, boss man! Wake up!” penetrated Steele’s slumber. Hermes was getting dressed and completing his morning routine as he called for Steele’s attention. “You’re the one that gives orders, and Scratch and I are already up, so, where do you want us?” Hermes asked. He had slept well, and was determined to make Lucky Star pay for what he had done.

“Uhh psh, yea take Scratch to doc Straus.” Steele answered groggily. He wiped the remaining slumber from his eyes and jumped out of bed. “Have Straus patch her up, but stay with her. I didn’t exactly make a great impression, and I want to make sure she still gets proper medical care.”

“Alright boss.” Hermes answered, opening the hotel door to leave.

“Oh and Hermes!”

“Yea?” He asked, pausing the door with his magic.

“Be aggressive this time. Tell her I’ll have a word with her if something happens.”Steele added, looking back at the old grimy mirror and beginning to brush his teeth. Good thing Hermes found some toothpaste at the shop; it was one hell of a luxury.

Hermes rolled his eyes and nodded his head as he closed the door behind him. With his morning routine complete, Steele gathered his belongings and yesterday’s salvage, and set off toward the manticore shop. The steps into the giant fabrication were old and groaned under Steele’s weight, but once inside he was surprised to find a well maintained, orderly, little store. At the counter sat a yellow earth stallion with a green mane and white cowboy hat.

“Welcome! Names Risky Gambit, I own the place.” He introduced himself.

“Brought some goods to trade.” Steele answered, plopping down a large assortment of laser rifles and melee weapons.

“Don’t suppose you want store credit, do ya?” Risky asked, looking over the pile he obviously couldn’t afford.

“Not exactly what I had in mind, no.” Steele answered, looking around the small shop. There were two wooden cases lining the shop, and each displayed goods and souvenirs of all kinds. Judging by the large number of manticore plushies, fake rockets, and salvaged pre-war toys, Steele concluded this shop was still mainly used as a souvenir shop for tourists. “Got anything more exciting than this?” Steele asked, waving a hoof around the shop.

“Sorry, the last guy that was in here bought most of the ammo I had left.” Risky answered. “But I can see what I have left!” He added when Steele had begun to pack up his gear.

Risky disappeared behind an old door to the left of his counter, and came back with a heavy metal box.

“It’s all I got left.” He said, opening the box to show Steele an assortment of ammo, only half of which was actually useful to him. Steele sighed.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take all the ammo I need, any healing potions and caps you got left, and some information. Deal?”

“I’m listening.” Risky answered, leaning over the counter.

“I’m looking for a guy named Lucky Star. Passed by town with some guys not too long ago. You know where he went?” Steele asked.

“Well, I don’t know what he did, but I’ll tell you what I told the last guy who asked me. I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Risky answered. “So, we still got a deal?” He added nervously.

Steele sighed and brought his hoof down from his face. “Yea, whatever.” He answered to Risky’s delight. There was no point in carrying a bunch of useless gear anyway, and at least he could use the ammo and caps.

“Thanks for stopping by!” Risky yelled after Steele, who had left in a disappointed hurry.

Steele worked his way around town to meet Hermes standing outside the medical tent.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“Nothing much. Scratch didn’t want to come here, but she has a few injuries that are being tended to by the doctor now.” Hermes chuckled a bit before continuing. “Straus didn’t want to work on a griffon till I mentioned your name. Heh, looked like you made one hell of an impression.”

“I always do.” Steele chuckled. “Anyways I sold our salvage, wanna go and help me squeeze some information from No-Bark?”

“You mean make sure you don’t do anything stupid?”

“That too.”

“Alright.”

The duo found No-Bark mumbling to himself outside outside the mayor’s office.

“Hey No-Bark! We solved your ghost problem.” Steele said, interruption the crazy stallion’s thoughts.

“Oh, Ol No-Bark knows. He always knows. I really appreciate it, yes I do.” He answered, giving a big, nearly toothless grin to them both.

“So I believe you need to tell me where Lucky Star went.” Steele added. It was obvious he was going to need to push No-Bark for answers.

“Ol righty. No-Bark remembers...but No-Bark is too thirsty to explain.”

“Too… thirsty?” Steele began, his agitation rising.

“Yup.”

“*Sigh* Hermes can you please get him some water from the food tent?”

“No!” No-Bark interrupted. “No-Bark doesn’t want any of that filthy water. He used to be a doctor, he knows it’s bad for you. No-Bark wants clean water.” He protested, sending a few droplets of saliva onto Steele's face. Steele’s eye twitched and his anger was beginning to rise; Hermes put a hoof on his shoulder to calm him down.

“Look boss man, this town has to have a water purifier right? I’ll just get some clean water, and we’ll be done with it.” Hermes offered.

“We ain’t got no clean water! O’ else No-Bark wouldn’t be thirsty!” No-bark retorted, scowling at Hermes.

Steele lost it. He drew a revolver and pushed No-bark to the back of the mayor’s building and pinned him by the throat.

“Now listen here you piece of shit. We nearly died for your information, and now you are going to tell us what we want.” Steele whispered. “Understand!” He screamed, shoving the gun’s barrel deeper into No-Bark’s throat.

“Steele maybe we should-”

“This is no time for your kindness, Hermes!” Steele interrupted, glaring at No-Bark who had begun to tear up and shake; he was terrified.

“You there, please stop!” Demanded a loud, yet submissive voice.

Steele and Hermes turned their attention to what appeared to be the town mayor, a yellow maned, light orange Pegasus. Her freckled face was curved into a frown, and her red eyes threatened to bore a hole through them both. Despite her small, shaking stature, she seemed determined to stand up for No-Bark. Steele shot one final glare at No-Bark and reluctantly dropped him.

“Watch him, Hermes.” He ordered, sliding his gun back into his armored garb and approaching the shaken mare. She was shorter than Steele, and seemed to fear him, but stayed her ground; Steele noted her bravery.

“I don’t know who you are, nor-”

“Relax ma’am." Steele interrupted, raising a hoof for silence. "We're only here to claim the information promised to us in return for solving your ghoul problem. We'll get it, and leave without another word." Steele explained, turning to return to his interrogation. He was halted by the mayor.

“Well we appreciate what you have done, but I still can’t have you terrorizing our townsfolk, no matter what they have done." She relaxed and looked Steele over. "But, I can try and see if we can reward you some other way.” She suggested, smiling warmly.

“Look ma’am-”

“Sunny Aurora.”

“Sunny Aurora, we just need this information.” Steele answered.

“Then, will you please come inside and talk it over. Perhaps I can help more than the town crazy.” Sunny said, walking into her office and pausing at the door to wave Steele in.

Steele looked to Hermes for support.

“Go. I’ll watch him, besides maybe she knows about Lucky.” Hermes assured.

“Alright. Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” Steele ordered. He gave No-Bark a cold stare, and left him shivering in fright.

Steele followed the mayor to find that her office was dimly lit, and her desk was littered by papers and work. Further into the building stood an old water purification setup that made up the majority of the building; it seemed to be missing a water purification crystal, but all in all was in working shape.

“Busy, huh?” Steele observed, looking over the giant contraption that was the water purifier.

“Yea.” She sighed, dropping into her seat. “Small town that’s got big problems.” She glanced at her work, then moved it aside and pulled out some apple whiskey and two shot glasses. “Sometimes I need a little something to calm me down at the end of a busy day, and you look thirsty. Fancy a drink while we talk over our problem?” She asked, sliding a glass toward Steele. Steele returned her smile.

“You know how to talk to a stallion, I’ll give you that.” He answered, taking his seat opposite of the major.

The two clinked glasses and downed their drinks before continuing.

“So what brings you to my town?” Sunny started.

“Came here looking for a guy named Lucky Star. He stole something very dear to us, and passed by here not too long ago.”

“I see, so what are you harassing No-Bark for? The old guy is absolutely crazy. You’ll never get anything good out of him.” Sunny explained, resting her head on her hooves.

“We asked around town, and nobody but No-Bark seems to know where he went. He asked us to get rid of your ghoul problem in exchange for information. And we did, nearly losing our lives in the process, and now he isn’t giving us what he owes us. Bastard wants us to go and find a water purifier crystal so he can get a “clean” drink.”

“Hmph." Sunny raised her head and traced the desk with her hoof. "Now see, I thank you for getting rid of those ghouls, really I do, but I want a water purifier crystal too.” She said, pouring them both another round. Steele took a sip of his drink and continued.

“I understand, but those things don’t just drop out of the sky you know. Finding something like that in the Mojave is nearly impossible, and only the really big places like Las Pegasus get their hooves on those. I don’t really see how I can help you here, at least not without risking a lot to do so. So, if you don’t mind. I’ll just go get my information, and leave.” Steele finished. He downed his glass and got up to leave; he didn’t have the time nor patience to be this mayor’s lackey.

“You can go, but you’ll never get anything out of him. No-Bark only trusts me, and he’ll most likely die before telling anyone else anything." Sunny called. Steele stopped and glanced back at her as she leaned back into her chair with a smug grin. "You need me, Steele. Like it or not, you’re getting this town a water purifier if you want that information.” She brought her attention to her drink, leaving Steele option-less and angry. For someone so small and frail looking, she sure is a cunning bitch. Steele thought.

“I think you’re underestimating how persuasive I am.” Steele said. This ungrateful mayor was demanding one of the most rare and profitable items in all the Mojave; for a cheap price too!

“Oh really? I’ve seen how “persuasive” you are.” Sunny answered, sitting upright. “You think you, your little saint over there, or your griffon freak are going to get something out of him? Ha. You want that information, I want a purifier crystal, simple as that.”

Steele weighed his options. He could go outside and continue trying to persuade a crazy pony, or he could risk life and limb for a small profit. No, neither would do. He’d have to make going on another pointless quest worthwhile. Steele fixed his hat, and to the surprise of the mayor, returned to her desk with a devious smile.

“You want a purifier crystal?” Steele leaned in and gripped the apple whiskey bottle. “You gotta make it worth my time. We can find Lucky by chance, but I want you to show me how many able prospectors this town has to offer. Better yet, show me a trading caravan that has one of those crystals. You need me more than I need you." Steele explained, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "If you want my services, make it worthwhile.” He finished. Steele took his seat and downed his glass; he set it down, and savored the look of hatred on the major's face. It seemed that he was one of few who actually had a leg up on the mayor during her "agreements"."

Sunny’s brows furrowed as she leaned into her crossed hooves. Who the hell did this guy think he was anyway? Every dead beat that wandered up in her small town was easily persuaded, or bought out cheap for their services, but this guy was something else. It didn’t look like she was going to get out cheap this time. She quietly poured herself another glass and took a sip. Once the tension in her head cleared up, she continued.

“This isn’t Las Pegasus, we don’t have a ton of caps to throw around. You know that, so what are you aiming for here?” She raised an eyebrow.

Steele took a moment to think his answer through. Sure this town didn’t have a lot of caps, but Steele could use a lot more than caps in the Mojave.

“A thousand caps, a discount at every store and service, 2 permanent rooms in the hotel, and a few favors on behalf of the whole town to the trio that solved their ghoul problem, and gave them clean water.” Steele answered, waiting for the inevitable outburst. He was asking for a lot, but so was Sunny. Although not exactly a high-paying job, a permanent place to stay and a whole town at his disposal seemed like a pretty good deal for a wanderer like himself.

“Are you crazy!?" Sunny exclaimed, rising sharply and sending her chair rolling backwards. "You want me to fork over a thousand caps, give you two whole rooms for your own personal use, and you want the whole town to owe you some dirty work?” Sunny yelled, banging the desk with her hoof. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" She demanded, pushing Steele's chest and rolling him and his chair backwards slightly.

Steele remained silent as he calmly rolled himself back to the seething major's desk, and kept eye contact while he poured himself the last drops of the apple whiskey bottle; he smiled as he shook the last drops into his glass.

“You want something like a purifier crystal, you have to pay for one. Look around you, Sunny. This town is dying, and the pressure of trying to save an imminent failure is tying a noose around your neck. The few residents here are getting sick of the lack of resources, and it won't be long till that noose of yours gets too tight. No one here would even consider, not to mention be capable of finding and bringing back a bounty like that. You want a crystal, I want a place to stay; simple as that.” Steele finished coolly.

Sunny's wings unfurled in frustration as she bit her bottom lip. She weighed her options. A thousand caps was a small sum, and the shops didn’t have that many things to sell. Without a clean water source, the hotel rooms would remain tourist-less. This guy was just some mercenary, what could he possibly ask of a small town like this anyway? Sunny ran a hoof across her neck as she glanced over Steele again. She sighed heavily, and retrieved her chair; she tore her gaze away from Steele. Celestia how she hated his smug grin.

“Deal.” She said, collapsing into her chair and waving Steele off.

“Happy to be of service ma’am.” Steele answered, tipping his hat and turning to leave.

“How’d it go?” Hermes greeted. Steele looked content, something that was still odd to him.

“Hope you know where to find a water purifier crystal.” Steele answered gravely.

“A what!?” Scratch yelled. She had returned from the medical tent bearing a few healing bandages in time to hear Steele. “A water purifier crystal! Do you know how much those things cost!?”

“Easy there patches. I’ll explain everything in the food tent, I’m not an idiot.” Steele eased.

“Could have fooled me.” Scratch mumbled, grudgingly deciding to withhold her anger.

“Uh, Steele what do I do with him?” Hermes asked, pointing at No-Bark who had been quietly cowering away from Steele. Hermes managed to calm him down, but the sight of Steele had gotten him shaking again.

“Leave him, we’ll get what we want once we finish this job.”

***

“So where the hell do you plan on finding a water crystal mister “negotiator.” Scratch asked, swallowing a roasted squirrel whole.

“Yea I mean the perks seem nice, but I hear those things are rare even toward Canterlot; and they had a bunch of stables and tech over there.” Hermes added, wiping some left over stew off his muzzle.

The trio had grabbed a sizable breakfast while Steele managed to explain himself and what had happened.

“I was actually going to ask Scratch that.” He answered.

“Me!? You’re the one who made the deal. You figure it out" She said, pointing an empty wooden skewer at Steele. "Cause I have no idea.”

“Well you do know this part of the Mojave better than I do. Know of any nearby stables? I’m guessing that they would probably remain unraided since Las Pegasus already had a working stable in it.”

Scratch tossed the skewer, and leaned on her folder arms.“The only stable I know of is stable eleven, and I don’t know anything about it other than the fact the no pony goes there.” Scratch offered.

“Well why not? Stables have some pretty salvageable stuff inside, provided you can survive the security or anyone one else trying to raid one.” Hermes asked.

“Beats me, but there has to be a good reason to keep ponies out. Radiation maybe.” Scratch guessed.

“Sounds perfect if you ask me.” Steele said.

“What do you mean perfect?” Hermes asked, puzzled. Steele looked like he had another crazy idea in mind, and Hermes didn’t like it.

“Well, no raiders means no danger right? If that’s the case then there might still be a purifier crystal down there, and nothing stopping us from taking it.” Steele explained, taking a sip of his water. “Unless you guys got any other ideas that is.” He added.

“Your call boss man.” Hermes regrettingly submitted, returning his attention to his soup as it grew ever colder from neglect.

“I’m not going anywhere till I know for sure what we’re up against. Rumors have it the Steele rangers might have a group here, and I don’t want to walk in there to be blown to pieces cause we were between them and some useless pre-war doohickey.” Scratch said.

“Fair enough.” Steele answered, getting up and leaving.

“Hey where are you going!” She called after Steele.

“To call in a favor, and see what we’re up against!” Steele yelled back.

Risky was just finishing cleaning the last laser rifle when the last face he wanted to see walked in.

“You’re not back for a refund, are you?” He nervously asked Steele.

“No, I’m here for that info you promised me. What can you tell be about stable eleven?”

“Stable eleven? What the hell did you lose in that abandoned shit hole?” Risky questioned; he eyed Steele with utmost curiosity.

“You seem too worked up about a shit hole.” Steele observed.

“Alright, you got me." Risky said, holding his hooves up. "If you really want to know, then I’d advise you to stay the hell away from stable eleven. The few that make it back return pale as a ghost, and never talk about that place again. When asked, they just keep real quiet. Whatever it is down there, not even the crazy fiends and bandits dare raid that place. It’s got some real bad mojo or something.” Risky answered, eyeing Steele nervously; he didn’t like his smile.

“So no bandits, and no fiends right.”

“Yea…” Risky answered slowly.

“Thanks, Risky.” Steele said. “Consider your debt paid.”

Steele left without another word. “Poor bastard.” Risky mumbled, returning to cleaning his new rifles.

“So?” Hermes asked upon Steele’s return.

“The local shop owner says the place is empty. Not even raiders and fiends go there. Said something about bad mojo and ghosts or something. Either Way it looks like the only way we’re going to get a purifier crystal.” Steele answered, packing up his gear. “So you guys in or what?” Steele asked again.

“I really don’t like messing with the dead Steele. If ponies keep away, maybe we should too.” Hermes objected.

“I’m kinda with Hermes on this one Steele, but I don’t see any other way around it so I’m in.” Scratch said. She adjusted her new bumper sword and its holster, glad that Hermes had the time to help her make one while Steele slept.

“Fine guys. I'm gonna do it, but I ain’t going to like it.” Hermes sighed, rising and securing his two rifles with the help of his pipbuck’s inventory manager.

The trio, under Scratch’s guidance, traveled north and soon arrived at the rocky overhang that held the stable’s outer door. The door itself was made of wood, and severely weather damaged, but still held onto its rocky wall via its rusted metal hinges; a noticeable stale odor was emanating through the cracks.

“Smells like death.” Hermes commented, covering his muzzle in disgust.

“Yea I’m not sure that place has enough fresh air for us to breath. I mean if the place has been abandoned for a few decades, then the ventilation system probably shut down from neglect.” Scratch added, leaning away from the pungent smell as well.

Steele rolled his eyes and pressed forward; he regretted the decision as soon as he found himself fighting his gag reflex. The bitter stench attacked Steele's bravado, but he kept firm and pressed onward. Sunlight poured into the once dark tunnel, and came to rest upon the massive steel door; it eerily cut off at the very entrance of the stable, whose door stood slightly ajar and provided enough space for a pony to squeeze through.

“Odd.” Steele thought aloud.

“Don’t stable doors have a backup power source to close and open in emergency situations?” Hermes asked, continuing Steele’s train of thought. He and Scratch followed Steele once the air freshened, and now the trio stood in front of the massive pre-war barrier; its faded and worn yellow numbers left hanging diagonally.

“I don’t like the looks of this.” Steele commented, eyeing the darkness within the stable through the open space.

“Oh so now you get some common sense.” Hermes smirked, earning him a glare from Steele.

“Since neither of you have any balls, I’ll go in first and secure the terminal room. It’s really dark in there, and I don’t want any surprises or friendly fire, so wait for my call.” Steele commanded, drawing Mustang and Sally.

Steele took a moment to come to peace with going into an abandoned, pitch-black, steel casket, and began to squeeze through the narrow opening. Least I won't have to endure this place alone. He thought. Once through, Steele stood in silence, listening. It was too dark to try and scope out the area, and it would take awhile for his eyes to adjust. Besides, anything mutated would make enough noise to give away its position.

“You alright in there boss man?” Hermes shouted.

“Or did the ghosts get ya?” Scratch laughed.

“Quiet you two, and get me a light source. It’s dark as hell in here.

“Like what?” Hermes asked. “All I got is my pipbuck, and they don’t just go around and sell lanterns around here.”

Steele growled at his failure to foresee a problem like this, but the gesture made him intake more air than usual, and a new stench filled his lungs. Steele coughed hard as a sudden sense of dread washed over him. What the fuck was that smell, and where the hell did it come from? He cursed.

“Steele?” Scratch asked, suspicious of Steele’s sudden coughing fit.

“I-” Steele began, but was interrupted by a loud automated voice.

“Imminent power failure detected. Stable door set to close for the immediate protection of stable tech residents. Please see the stable technician for further assistance, and thank you for choosing stable tech: the stable choice for survival.” It notified.

Everyone covered their ears from the deafening screeching of stable eleven’s door as it began to close. Steele was on the floor, paralyzed by the stench and pain, and terrified of being locked away to die in complete darkness and agony. Once the pain subsided, he opened his eyes to meet only darkness.

“Shit! Hermes! Scratch! Can you hear me!?” He screamed, his heart pounding so heavily that it threatened to burst out of his chest.

He heard nothing but muffled screams in his still ringing ears and cursed again.

“I can’t hear yo- fuck!” He cursed as strong lights came on and stung his vision with painful brightness, forcing him to stagger back and sit.

What in Luna’s name was going on!? He asked himself, too distracted by the ringing in his ears, and dots in his eyes to notice the smell. His luck wasn’t all bad though, and the ringing in his ears settled down at the same time his eyes adjusted to the flickering and failing light.

“Ah fuck me!” He screamed, jumping up and pressing himself against the stable door once he discovered he had just shared a floor with four rotting corpses, all of which were horribly mutilated and torn apart.

Shit, Steele, get it together! He commanded himself. The adrenaline coursing through his panicked body kicked in, and Steele refocused to hear muffled screaming from behind the stable door.

“Steele! Steele can you hear me!?” Hermes shouted, banging in frustration against the thick door.

Steele couldn’t believe the fact that had found sanctuary in Hermes's voice.

“Yea, I’m alright in here.” He replied.

“Thank Celestia.” Hermes breathed. Scratch, who had hidden her fear for Steele’s safety, finally exhaled as well.

“What's going on in there?” She shouted through the door.

Steele looked around. Somehow the stable’s emergency door generator had started up, but it only generated enough power to keep a single cell of dim lights blinking. The entire control room was offline, and covered in dust and the old stains of some poor pony’s brains. He was trapped in a closed off room with nothing but four rotting corpses, a sealed and powerless stable door, and a hallway leading to the rest of a pitch black, abandoned stable.

“I’m trapped.” Steele realized. Panic tugged at his concentration, but he shook it off and refocused on his friends.

“If the power came on, can’t you just open the door?” Scratch pressed.

“Its not on dammit! The stable’s emergency generator started up and only had enough juice to close the door.”

“Shit.” Scratch cursed.

“Do you think you can turn on the power and open the door?” Hermes suggested.

“I doubt the generator is still functioning.” Steele answered, bucking the stable door in frustration.

“It’s a stable. Its bound to have an armory right? If there aren’t any raiders in there, then see if you can find the explosives. Hopefully there should be enough to blow this thing off its rusty hinges. Do you think you can do that?” Scratch asked.

Steele thought about it. The smell was so bad that he’d do just about anything to get out. It’s not like he had a choice anyway.

“Yea. I’ll see what I can do, but guys…”

“What’s wrong?” Hermes asked, sensing Steele's hesitation.

“If you don’t hear from me in 2 days, then leave. Celestia knows what the fuck is in here, hell I can’t even see my hooves once I step out into the hallway. It doesn’t look good from here.” He finished. Dread settled into the pit of his stomach as he realized he might not be making it out of this one.

Hermes and Scratch looked for the right thing to say, but Steele interrupted their thoughts.

“I’m going now, the smell in here is going to make me puke.” He said, trying to convince himself to get the courage to leave his dimly lit safe haven. He turned toward the hallway and stepped over one of the rotting corpses, a stallion with the majority of his suit torn and decomposed; his lower half seemed to have been snacked on by a passing by mutant, and Steele kept his guns at the ready.

“Be careful Steele!” He heard Hermes shout.

Steele returned his attention to the seemingly never ending abyss of darkness ahead of him. Strangely enough his very core felt wrong. It wasn’t just the smell anymore, it was something else, pressing on his mind; something that his instinct told him to avoid. Steele shut his eyes, and dismissed the dread as sickness from the smell. If he was going to get out of here alive then he had better man up, and soon. He opened his eyes and used his horn to give off a dim source of light. Better than nothing. He guessed.

He took a step into the darkness and felt all the hair on his foreleg stand at attention, almost as if the darkness cowered from the foreign presence before swarming to engulf it. Steele recoiled, bringing his leg back to his chest, and glared ahead. Come on, Steele, stop being such a pussy! He commanded himself. He walked further into the hallway, letting his whole body be swallowed whole by the unholy air.

Steele sloshed his way through the thick darkness, and with each click his hooves made against the iron floor, a new pulse of emotion swept over him. There was something really fucked up about this place. Something that made him want to turn around and run. The place was dead and hollow, but shadows danced, things seemed to move, body-less life felt present.

Ghosts? Steele asked himself, taking a moment to ponder the thought before shaking it off. Don’t let Hermes get to you, Steele! This is just some abandoned shit hole, and you’ve got to get out. Focus.

His mouth dry, senses heightened, and heart erratic Steele pressed on through the abandoned stable with the sole intent of toning out the suffocating dread. His dim light source flickered as his nerve slowly bled out of his body. He stopped short when the corridor ended in a fork that lead to a caved in path, and a descending staircase.

"And so begins the descent into madness." He commented out loud; simply to fill the relentless silence. The shadows had already consumed any evidence of sound as he began to travel further into the depths of his shadowy hell.

The short descent ripped Steele out of an abandoned stable, and instead tossed him into a world of politics, where propaganda posters replaced the cold hard iron that made up the walls. Now what kind of election would a stable hold? Steele wondered, leaning close to examine a poster. Its colors, although faded, proudly displayed the eye catching text: The Enlightened. Don't stay in the darkness, do what's right; vote for the light! It urged, slathering its motto at the top of the poster; below it a pre-war royal crest was re-purposed for the task of brainwashing any reader into giving their vote. Steele smirked at the bitter irony of the task and his situation, but brought his attention to the rows of similar posters that suffocated the wall; they only ended where the light from his horn could no longer pierce the thick darkness. Must have been the most popular party to have so many posters. Steele observed. But who were they? He asked himself, lost in the advertisement that worked for ponies long since lost to the trials of time. A blood curling scream filled the air, chilling Steele to the bone as he recoiled into reality.

Steele cocked his revolvers, and quickly sped through the short hallway. Guns first, he opened the hydraulic steel door at the bottom to find a large, pitch black room. Silence. No movement, no presence, no gunfire or growling; just nerve racking silence. What the fuck!? Steele stood still, his legs spread apart for balance, his guns ready, and his eyes scanning. His heavy breathing displayed his frayed nerves. Nothing screams like that unless it’s getting its skin peeled, and the lack of sound or light was beyond bizarre; it was downright insane.

Nothing stirred, not even the gentle howling of moving air was heard through the spacious room; only the frantic thumping of a frightened heart reached Steele's ears. A few beads of sweat trickled down to his chin, and plopped down onto the cold hard ground. Unwilling to believe his mind had so cruelly deceived him, Steele swallowed and finally noticed the illuminated CAFETERIA sign above him. Explains the large room, but a cafeteria without tables seems odd. He observed, reluctantly beginning to relax. This place was just getting to him that’s all; no need to get worked up about nothing.

“Spoke too soon.” He remarked through grit teeth as a small bulb flashed to illuminate the room and stunned his vision.

Steele lowered his guns and jaw at the same time. Speechless, Steele remained glued to the floor and unable to move. Whatever turned on the bulb revealed the lack of tables was because they were all moved to the ends of the room and used as cover in what appeared to be a civil war. The room was littered with dry blood, bullet casings, and traps of all sorts; Steele himself was only a few inches short of a grenade trap hanging from the ceiling. Once he absorbed enough, he used his magic to disarm the trap and began to look around. There were pony skeletons and bone fragments everywhere. A few still leaned over the cover they so desperately hoped would protect them, some still had rusted guns clenched in their bony jaws while others lay in pieces, torn by explosives. Steele examined some of the makeshift cover to find a smaller skeleton crouching behind it, a large hole in the back of its skull. This is unreal. Steele thought. He looked around for signs of mutants or other ponies who might not belong to the stable, but found nothing. No intruders, no external threat, only dead stable ponies seemingly torn apart by their own madness.

Bewildered by the sheer absurdity of a civil war within the very chamber that was build to protect its inhabitants from the lunacy of the outside world, Steele failed to count the number of unfortunate souls to have died here; their screams and suffering forever preserved and lost within the confines of a dark and forgotten tomb. He could almost hear the screams of agony that emanated from untrained fighters, screams that told the suffering and death of those who regretted the painful mistakes of their hot-boiled youth; mistakes that put pony kind in its underground prisons in the first place. Steele's skin crawled as if the hooves of the fallen were pulling it, demanding his attention so as to not be abandoned and forgotten in their eerie grave. He shook violently to get the sickening idea out of his head, and brought his attention to a rifle. Rusted, yet as ready for the spilling of blood as the day it was used, it lay at the hooves of a young stable dweller's corpse, waiting patiently to serve its young master again. Its owner however, lay defeated against his thin cover; his rotting skull hung limp over his chest as his body slumped against the table.

Curious, Steele surveyed the area for traps, and when finding none, he returned to the out of place rifle. He really hated the idea of taking stuff from this place, but survival was survival, and he ignored his growing uneasiness. He licked his dry lips and slowly, delicately, began to bend over the table to retrieve the firearm; the nearer he drew, the more anxious the deadly weapon appeared, seemingly anticipating its use for death. Almost got it. Steele grunted as the rifle lay only inches from his grasp. A sudden crack whipped Steele's attention to the pitch black eye sockets of the gun's owner; he shared a spit second of "eye contact" as his entire body tingled with panic.

“Fuck this! Fuck stables!" He shouted, scrambling to leave the room in a frightened hurry.

There was more to this nightmare than burdened the eye, and whatever it was didn’t want him here. He was done with trying to loot the place, and just wanted to get the hell out. Steele drew his guns and re-lit his horn. He was scared now, and his steps grew louder and more urgent. He no longer traveled with caution, but instead looked for the fastest way to get out of this Celesia damned hell hole.

He proceeded through the winding hallways, finding more traps and bodies, until he stumbled upon the Overmare’s room.

“Oh thank the goddesses.” He breathed. He might find the water purifier gem here, and more importantly, a way out.

Disarming a crude shotgun trap, Steele stepped into the room, illuminating it with the dim light of his horn. He found a working stable tech computer, and an old hoof-written note, he glanced at it nervously, his curiosity urging him to read it, to find out why this place reeks of death and despair, but common sense told him it would only make things worse. Maybe later. Steele decided, quickly rolling up the note and shoving it into his saddlebag. He sat down at the terminal and opened the notes.

“New Security Key for the Mainframe.” He read before something behind him moved and stole his attention. Angry at the fact that this place had already made a paranoid fool out of him, Steele raised his magnums and flared his horn. With the extra power, he illuminated enough of the room to catch a pair of white hind legs retreating. “Hermes!” Steele yelled, taking off after the bastard. He was tired of being scared, and pure anger fueled him as he ran after the bastard he was about to tear into pieces. “Hermes get the fuck back here!” He added, turning a corner into a janitors closet. He had the bastard pinned now. He yanked the door open, nearly ripping it off its rusty hinges, his nostrils flared as if in preparation to release steam. Inside, Steele’s anger quickly melted into confusion and shock. His anger and confusion was aimed toward a small cowering filly. She was shaking violently and cowered from the intruder and the guns he was pointing at her face.

“Shit.” Steele said. He holstered his guns and spoke softly. “Hey there little one, I’m not going to hurt you. Come on, it’s ok I’ll protect you.”

The small filly peeked out from under her forelegs to look at Steele with a large, gold eye.

“It’s ok now, I’m sorry for scaring you.” Steele reassured her. This is too Luna damn weird, but hell I’m not going to leave a kid in here. Steele decided.

To Steele’s relief the small filly seemed to be warming up to him. She sat upright, and stared at a smiling Steele.

“You’re not going to hurt me, right?” She squeaked. Celestia damn that’s adorable. Steele thought. He may or may not have had a weakness for children, but that was not up for discussion with the public.

“Of course not.” Steele reassuring with a warm smile.

“Then why were you yelling?” She asked, frowning at her mysterious new guest.

“I, uh thought you were a friend who was playing games with me.” Steele dodged, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. Hermes in here, with me? Boy that was stupid. He scolded himself.

“Games? But mister it’s scary down here. Why would you want to play games?” The filly asked.

“Uh, not those kind of games. Look, forget about it.” Steele answered, willing to change the subject.

“Well if your friend thinks you’re playing games with him in here, then should we go look for him?”

“Just forget about it kid, he’s fine.” Steele said. “More importantly, what is a filly like you doing here all by herself?” He wondered.

“I live here.” She answered nonchalantly, looking at Steele like one does at an unwanted guest.

Live here? Ok that means there’s gotta be some other ponies in here. “So then where are your parents and the other ponies?” Steele asked, hoping to get some answers around here.

“They’re dead.” She answered coolly, catching Steele off guard with the lack of emotion in her answer.

“Everyone?” Steele asked again, just to be sure. He eyed the out of place filly, questioning his own sanity.

“Yup.” She said again in the same boring, emotionless way.

“Then how and why are you still living here!?” Steele asked.

“Well I have no place to go. There’s enough food for me to not get hungry, and I can’t really leave.”

Steele brought a hoof to his face as he tried to process the situation. He sighed. “Well alright, can you tell me what happened here as we go back?” He asked.

“Sure!” She answered, hoping up and trotting up to Steele; her cute little smile still warmed Steele’s heart. “By the way mister. My names Rose Treats, what’s yours?” She asked.

“Steele.” He answered, glad to no longer have to endure walking through the darkness alone. For some odd reason, with this kid here, he no longer felt the eerie grip of the air.

“Cool name!” She exclaimed, looking up at Steele with admiration; the gesture cheered Steele up more than he thought it would, and he continued to walk with a content smile.

“So Rose Treats, what happened here?” He reminded the cute filly.

“Oh, See. There were these big groups of ponies who everyone talked about all the time, and one group was bigger than the others. This big group-”

“The Enlightened?” Steele interrupted.

“Yea that’s it. Those guys didn’t like some mare, and voted for her to be the Overmare. It was ok at first, but she made a new rule that took away voting powers from the big groups, and banned the “selection.” I think the big group got mad because they didn’t like the changes, so they started to fight. It was really scary, and for a few days mom and dad had to hide in the cafeteria with me. There were other nice ponies there, but they tried to hurt anyone who wanted some of our food. I’m not sure what happened, but one day the other ponies all ran into our cafeteria and started shooting. Mom hid me in the janitor’s closet and told be to be quiet. I was really scared, but I saw she was too, so I stayed quiet. She left, and then there were a lot of loud noises. Some ponies were screaming. There was this big explosion, and when I woke up later it was really dark and everypony was dead or gone; It was really scary.”

“Wow kid.” Steele thought aloud, piecing together Rose's simple explanation. He wanted to know more, but was afraid of forcing the poor kid to remember her heavy lose. The kid slept through a war that took from her everything she ever treasured, and awoke to the ashes of her life. He realized, his spirit dampening as he looked at Rose with an apathetic look; to his surprise the little filly looked straight ahead, unfazed by the recollection of her tragedy. Must have run out of tears to cry. Steele assumed. “And the Overmare? What happened to her?”

“Oh her, well she died like all the others. She banned the selection, but she still had to go through with it to give us time.”

“The selection?” Steele asked. Is that another social experiment? He wondered, cursing the stable tech inventors for their wicked experimentation.

“Yea. Mom and dad never liked to talk about it, but this man told me that the stable computer needs someone to be chosen and die so that it doesn’t kill everyone. A lot of ponies from when the stable was still new didn’t like not being told that, so they made it so that the Overmare would be the one to be selected when the computer demanded it.”

“Shit.” Steele cursed. He knew the stable experiments were cruel and often resulted in the extermination of those inside, but to force those you were trying to protect to brutally select each other for death was beyond cruel. He prayed for pity on the poor souls that were doomed to extinction the moment they set foot in their false safe haven. How could the past have been so barbaric? He wondered, clenching his jaw in anger and frustration with the mistakes of his supposed goddesses; to think he had to pray to the very source that supposedly began the suffering.

The two made it back to the Overmare’s room and Steele sat down to work at the computer.

“So Rose Treats, know how we can get out of here?” Steele asked, hoping he could cut the time he had to spend there.

“I don’t know. I’m too small to be assigned any stable jobs, and all the other big ponies didn’t want to tell me anything.” She squeaked, crossing her arms and pouting.

Steele chuckled lightly. He wasn’t sure how someone so young survived all by herself, but she had obviously gone through a lot of trauma. He refocused on the computer once more, determined to get his little new friend out of here.

“Hey Rose, can you find me a pen and paper? I need to write some stuff down.” He asked, once more upset about his lack of a fancy pipbuck.

“Sure thing! I saw some in the armory, I’ll go get them!” She exclaimed, turning to run away.

“Wait up, you can get into the armory? I thought it was locked down tight.”

“It is, the grown-ups hid the password, but during their fighting the vents were damaged and I can crawl through.” Rose answered excitedly, her grin was so wide that it started to tug at Steele’s solid complexion.

“Are you sure it’s safe? It’s really dark and dangerous in here, I don’t want you to get hurt.” Steele said; he was beginning to reconsider letting a filly go alone in this hazardous hell hole.

The little filly ran toward Steele, forcing him to back away slightly before being tackled and hugged by Rose; the gesture was extremely uncommon for Steele, especially since he wasn’t one to like unauthorized touching, and he stood there for a moment wondering how he should react.The little filly was choking his foreleg with her hug, and Steele couldn’t help but smile. What is it about her that makes me such a pussy? He wondered, disgusted by how easily his shell was being breached.

“Thanks for being so nice, it’s awfully lonely down here.” She said, rubbing her muzzle against Steele's solid leg.

The "iron"-pony chuckled. He knew this filly really needed someone, and he was glad that he could fill that quota. Afterall, right about now he needed her just as much as she needed him.

“Come on Rose, knock it off.” He said, trying to gently shake his foreleg free.

“Ok.” Rose answered, letting go and standing upright; she looked up at Steele with affection in her eyes. “I’ll go get the things you need.” She announced, turning to leave.

“Wait, Rose, are there any explosives that you can fit through the vents in there?”

“I think I saw a few, why?”

“I want you to bring them back if they’re not too heavy. Think you can do that?”

“Why?” Rose questioned again; the assertiveness in her voice caught Steele off guard.

“I think you may have just solved my...our problem.” Steele answered. He didn’t like the caution in Rose’s voice, so he decided it’d be best to not tell her his plan just yet.

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” She answered normally.

Steele watched her scurry off and turned back to the monitor, but Rose returned shortly.

“Oh and Steele, be careful.” She said, and left again.

Why the hell would she tell me to be careful? Steele wondered. The gesture was odd, but he had more important things to worry about and shrugged it off. Shit, it’s back. Steele mentally cursed. The feeling of dread attacked his body once more, giving him a sensation of being really dirty. Was that there before? Steele asked himself as the monitor displayed a new function; Open the chamber. Chamber? What kind of chamber? He wondered. Steele selected the option and backed up as the desk began to lift off the ground via hydraulic pumps; it revealed a metal staircase leading to another long, dark hallway.

“Great.” He breathed regrettably. He knew he was going to go check it out, and he hated himself already.

Steele drew his guns again and looked out the Overmare’s office. The dim light from his horn didn’t show much, but he couldn’t hear or see any sign of Rose. Whatever, he didn’t know what was down there anyway so it was better to not take her along. With another sigh, Steele descended the stairs and began another journey through the unholy stable. Stabletech sure loves its long hallways. He thought. The hallway ended with another, smaller hallway, but this one was different; there was something at the end of it. Steele readied his weapons and stepped forward.

“H...hello stable resident!” Welcomed an old and stuttering recording.

I don’t like the looks of this. Steele thought; the bright lights ahead didn’t help either.

“The lights ahead set your mind at ease, you feel welcomed." The automated voice continued.

Steele felt sick, but he kept moving forward despite feeling like he was being pushed into the room. Once past the bright lights, Steele looked around to find himself in an overly spacious room. It looked nice. There was a video player on a table in the center, a large comfy couch, and some apple whiskey along with some cigarettes and dirty water.

“What in Celestia’s name is going on!?” Steele shouted, having turned to leave, but found a large, thick hydraulic door blocking his exit.

To his dismay, the video player had started without his assistance.

“Hello there!” It greeted. “If you’re in this room, then that means you’ve been selected for the greater good of the stable.”

“Fuck, no dammit, this can’t be happening!” Steele screamed, pounding on the door like his heart pounded in his chest. “Come on, you piece of shit! Open!” He commanded it, straining himself to pry the door open with his magic. Unfortunately the door didn’t budge and Steele gave up with a grunt.

“You’ve lived a good life.” The mechanical voice continued, trying to lull its victim into a sense of peace.

I can't die in here. Steele concluded. He turned back to observe the rest of the room. The video and voice still played, but he couldn’t hear what it was saying because of how loudly his heart thumped in his ears. Come on, Steele, think! He commanded himself, closing his eyes and concentrating hard. He wasn’t going down, not yet. Not to some fucked up experiment set up by his goddess-forsaken ancestors. That’s it! Steele thought, taking out the salvaged grenades.

“And remember that time you…” The automated voice droned in the background of Steele’s thoughts.

Steele knew the video was coming to an end, and began to quickly rearrange the furniture. He picked a corner near the door, and barricaded his front with the couch, table, and metal video player; he drew Mustang and Sally, readied the grenades, and took his position behind his makeshift cover.

“Do you feel at peace? Good.” The computer finished, dropping its pitch on the last word and stretching it nefariously.

“Come at me!” Steele demanded, tired of being toyed with.

The large walls began to slide open on opposite sides, revealing Robobrains, military grade Sentinels, and turrets.

“Catch!” Steele shouted, tossing two grenades left and right; he took cover behind his makeshift barrier and winced as the deafening explosion sent robo-pony brains and shrapnel all over the room.

The world went silent as his ears reached their pain threshold. Deaf and irate, Steele stepped out of cover and began to pelt the first thing he saw, a sentinel, with lead. As Steele fired, he noticed that the grenades had only managed to take down the brainbots and a left turret, leaving both sentinels damaged, but fully functional. Fuck. He thought, mid-shot as the Sentinel he was attacking started its combat targeting computer and raised its missile-loaded hoof. Helpless, Steele was forced to observe the remaining turret tear two holes into his body, drawing blood, and closed his eyes as the missile silently left the barrel of the sentinel's hoof; the last thing he saw was the bright flames from the ignition of his doom.

Steele’s body erupted in pain. The world spun as Steele watched his blood, armor, body, and barrier fly through the air in his silent final moments. Each inch of his body burned as flesh tore and sizzled, sending a warm sensation after each pulse of agonizing pain. The vibrations from his body hitting the cold hard floor were the last thing on his conscious mind before everything went black. Unfortunately his torture didn’t end there, and the adrenaline coursing through his leaking veins forced him into painful consciousness. Steele wasn’t sure whether it was his will to live, quick thinking, or a burning desire for revenge that gave him the strength to use his magic and turn the active turret toward the sentinel and riddle it with bullets, effectively exploding it, and in turn damaging the turret as well. His remaining harbinger, a damaged, but fully functioning sentinel rolled up to Steele’s now motionless and rapidly losing consciousness body; it aimed its plasma gun.

“Intruder vitals detected, eliminating.” It announced.

“Fuck you.” Steele managed before the remaining strength had finally drained from his body and left it limp and unconscious at the hoofs of his doom.

***

Pain, that is what Steele used to describe the world he woke up to. Incomprehensible, agonizing, burning pain. His flesh burned and sizzled, his lungs struggled to work, his head vibrated with mind- numbing agony. Simply remaining alive burdened him, and the world as he knew it was black behind his heavy eyelids. Am I dead? He wondered. No, if he was then he wouldn’t be writhing in agony. Pity. He complained, finding it nearly impossible to gather the strength to open his eyes. Steele tried again, and successfully managed to pry open his eyes to allow the world around him to slowly return. He looked around, analyzing his predicament; he found himself laying in a pool of his own blood, his armored bard torn wide open at his shoulder and chest, and a lone sentinel towered above him, its plasma gun aimed at his head. Looking past the barrel of his would be doom, he saw his satchel laying on the ground, its contents littered the floor; Steele scanned the pile for something he could use to end the suffering, but found nothing.

“Steele! Steele are you in there!? Steele!” A voice cried out; It was a fillies voice, and whatever was making it sounded afraid and hysterical.

Who the hell would be here in a place like thi- Rose! Steele realized, his eyes growing large with the realization that he couldn’t die, not yet, not while Rose needed him. Steele’s eyes frantically darted across the room, searching once more for something that would at least give him the strength to speak. How did I miss that!? Steele asked himself. He spotted his salvation, a hydra potion he saved since the nightkin incident. Thank Celesia for Hermes.

“Steele.” Rose whimpered behind the door, motivating Steele to get that damn potion closer to him.

Steele glared at the solution to his problem, willing nearer, but could not find the strength to bring it any closer. He closed his eyes and considered bitter failure. His vision was fading from the blood lose, and he danced on the verge of consciousness. It was now or never, and he tried once more. Come on. He urged, but achieved nothing as his body refused to spare any energy it was using to cling to fleeing life. Steele closed his eyes as he realized he had been forced to give up. Forced to die in silence. He tried to pity himself, but disappointing in his shortcomings while he was so close to success, he failed to do so. He did however, find regret. Regret for doing nothing more than leaving another useless corpse in the Mojave, regret for falling prey to the bitter malice of the pre-war generation. A fitting ending really. He thought bitterly.

"Steele don't die in here." A filly's voice sulked, convincing Steele to hold his meeting with the reaper.

Steele awoke to another kind of regret; regret for giving up on himself and those that depended on him. He had to live, for the courier too stupid to survive on his own, for the griffon that would not get far without a tough pony ally, for the filly that had come to his aid in time to nearly receive only suffering in return. He willed the potion closer, nearly blacking out from the sheer exertion of using his magic. Luckily the bottle rolled closely enough for him to devour the precious liquid. The let the cooling elixir work its magic and mend his broken body. He finally breathed a full gasp of air as the potion worked quickly and diligently to grow new cells and replace his burned and torn flesh. Steele grunted as his chest and limbs shifted from underneath the flesh, moving, searching for their original positions and popping into place as they mended their cracks and tears.

"Kindness." Steele breathed, relieved to only be lightheaded from blood-loss. Kindness was responsible for the powerful magic that toyed with the very essence of life and brought him back from the verge of death. Steele levitated the empty bottle to his face and looked over the three butterflies that marked the work of the Ministry of Peace. Kindness, an element of the impossible dream of Harmony, was powerful enough to last through the ages and awake like within his dying body. Perhaps the past wasn't as dark as the atrocities it left behind; maybe there still wonder to discover in the ashes of a hated past. “Rose.” Steele grunted, standing up. The hydra potion might have repaired his body, but his head was still spinning, and his body still ached. “Rose!” Steele screamed again, having not gotten an answer. “Where the hell is she?” He thought aloud, looking the sentinel over.

What the hell happened to this thing? Steele wondered; the bot didn’t seem to have any external damage dealt to it aside from the grenade that he threw, and that had barely dented its armor. The Luna-forsaken thing had just turned off mysteriously, as if something flipped its off switch. Steele left the damn thing alone and took a step toward his belongings, but stopped himself before falling over. Shit, I lost a lot of blood. He concluded, eyeing a large crimson pool where he lay only moments ago. Steele repacked his saddlebag, reloaded his guns, and winced as he gingerly put his tattered saddlebag back on; he observed his clothing to find that that his chest and right shoulder were exposed, the clothing torn and uneven with burn marks. The whole ensemble, his coat included were caked with a layer of his blood, dividing his body in two.

Steele used Ratslayer to permanently disable the remaining sentinel; after all, he couldn’t push his luck too far. He finished scavenging any ammo and explosives off the bots, and looked around the room for a chance to escape; what he found was the stable’s mainframe and water supply stashed in the left wall of where the bots came from. Thank Celestia, now I can get the fuck out of here. Steele thought, salvaging the water purifier crystal, unlocking the door to his escape, and finding a way to route power to the stable door; for some odd reason, the air around him felt a little lighter with the room and its sickening past destroyed. Or maybe it was just his spinning head, either way he was getting the hell out of here. The door opened, and as soon as Steele stepped out into the unpleasant darkness, he was nearly knocked off his unstable hooves by Rose, who buried her face into Steele’s lower chest and sobbed.

“I... thought I was going... to….lose you and be all alone again.” She said in between sobs, ignoring the layer of crimson that lay between her and Steele.

Steele felt sick, partially because of the sensation the stable gave off, and mostly because he was on the brink of consciousness.

“It’s ok there Rose, I wasn’t planning on ever leaving you behind.” He assured her, petting her pink mane with his clean hoof.

“I couldn’t let them take you too.” She whimpered.

“What? Let who take me?” Steele asked, confused.

Rose let go of Steele and stood on her own, wiping away her tears.

“Never mind.” She answered. “Oh, and I got you what you asked for! Even the pen and paper see?” She exclaimed, pulling a little leather satchel filled with what appeared to be high end, Stable quality explosives; an old pen and rotting paper were tucked into a pocket in the front.

“Thanks Rose, you’re a big help. Now lets go.” Steele said, attempting to use magic to lift the bag, but picking it up instead when he found himself too weak to do so.

“Go where?” Rose asked. To Steele’s surprise there was an unpleasant tone in her voice, and he pondered as to how he should respond.

“Uh, to meet my friends. I’m hurting real bad right now, and I need their help.” Steele answered, struggling to light his horn enough to find their way back.

“I can help you.” Rose answered gruffly. She was following Steele, but she was looking down as if she was upset with something. But what could that be? Steele wondered. Steele stopped walking and turned to Rose.

“Oh come on Rose, you’ve been a big help, and I couldn’t have done anything without you.” He said, petting her mane in an attempt to cheer her up; luckily she looked up and smiled. She hugged Steele’s leg again.

“Ok, but you won’t leave me right?” She asked.

“Never.” Steele answered, turning around and beginning to walk toward the Stable door and leave this ordeal behind him.

Steele was glad to finally be getting out of this hell hole, but as he progressed the feeling of dread grew stronger, angrier, like there was something that didn’t want him to leave; simply walking tired him as unseen hooves hindered his path, pulling him back into the stable. Trying not to empty his stomach, Steele looked back to make sure Rose was still behind him; she was, but she seemed cautious, like there was something she was waiting for. Maybe she feels it too, after all her friends and family died here. Steele reasoned.

The duo finally ended up in the Stable door control room. The smell was still horrible, but now a small green button was illuminated in the control room, right next to the dead pony skeleton with its brain residue covering the other controls and glass panel.

“Hey Rose, do you know who these guys were? They still smell, so they can’t have died that long ago.” Steele asked, looking around the control room for anything else he might have needed to press.

“They wanted to abandon me, to leave me and never come back. Steele, they left me all alone!” Rose yelled, stomping her hoof.

“It’s ok Rose, I...uh… I” Wow this must be a really strong smell. Steele thought. He couldn’t think straight. Either the smell was that bad, or the feeling he was getting came from something else.

“Please don’t leave me Steele. I don’t want to be alone.” Rose said; she was crying again.

“Oh come on Rose, I already told you I won’t, so please don’t cry.” Steele pleaded, pushing the green button and starting the opening process.

Sufficient power supply detected! Thank you for choosing Stable tech, be careful out there! It notified.

The Stable door began to screech open.

“Steele!? Steele! Shit, he did it!” A muffled voice screamed, it belonged to Hermes.

“Don’t leave me Steele, please! I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to be by myself again. Don’t leave me, Steele!” Rose screamed, forcing Steele to collapse from the multitude of pain in his head.

Where the hell was she screaming from? Steele asked himself, looking through tearing eyes; he couldn’t find Rose anywhere. She must have gotten scared of the noise and run off. Steele reasoned. The door finished opening, and light flooded into the room.

“Told you he’d do it.” Scratch said, rushing over to Steele’s side and providing a support for him to lean on. "Holy shit, Steele what the fuck happened to you?" She asked, grabbing his side and supporting him.

“Shit boss man, what the hell happened in there?” Hermes asked, seeing the poor condition Steele and his clothes were in.

“Rose, where is she?” Steele asked, only half conscience with the knowledge that his friends were there.

“Who the hell is Rose?” Scratch asked once they had escorted Steele outside and sat him down.

“Rose, a small filly, where is she!?” Steele demanded.

“I think he’s lost it.” Scratch commented.

“What filly boss man, you were the only one there.” Hermes answered, looking quizzingly at Steele.

Audio log downloaded, playing now. Notified Hermes’s pipbuck.

“What crap did you pick up now?” Scratch asked angrily, glancing at Hermes who had snuck a pipbuck out of the stable on the way out.

“It’s not crap.” He answered wryly. “I picked it up from one of the bodies in there, it might provide some answers.”

“Rose.” Steele began before being cut off by the log.

This is Stable eleven technician, Iron Weld. To whoever finds this log inside of Stable eleven, turn back. It's pointless. I am the last surviving member of this stable. There were five of us left after we found the answer to the mainframe’s demands; it was simple. From the very beginning the whole damn thing was a test given to us by Stable Tech. They wanted to see if we’d send a pony to die so the rest of us can live, and we did; and not only did we do it, but we’ve done some terrible things to each other to select someone. Anyway as I was saying, there were five of us when we found out that all we needed to do for the computer to not kill us all, was to simply deny it. Show it that we valued the idea of preserving other’s lives more than our own… and we’d have lived. When I and the last of us found out, they couldn’t take it. We all wanted out, but some of us just couldn’t live with it all. They wanted all of us to kill ourselves, to take the horrible history of our stable with us, but I just couldn’t do it. I’ve helped them kill themselves, and am leaving this cursed place forever, and as a warning to all you scavengers out there, leave now. You might not believe in ghosts yet, but you definitely don’t want your opinion to be changed in this stable. Again, there is absolutely no one left alive in there, and nothing worth of value, the whole damn place feels haunted. Turn back and leave, for your own good! And… and if you don’t believe me… *Sigh* for Celestia’s sake, we killed fucking children down there. Children! Hell, I saw a poor little filly’s body torn apart in the goddess forsaken janitor’s closet. The poor thing was hiding in there. Hell… I knew her parents too. Sweet thing hated to see us fight, always wanted to protect us somehow. So please, don’t press your luck in there. Turn back, it’s not worth it. I repeat, turn back now!

The recording finished, but the words still rang in Steele’s head. No one left. Everyone’s dead. It couldn’t be. No, Steele saw her, he felt her. She saved him… she saved him after all, and he broke his only promise to her. Steele felt sick, he leaned over and vomited. Hermes and Scratch watched him, they could tell that Steele saw some shit that not even he understood in there; all they could do now was try and help him somehow.

“I got the damn crystal. Help me get back, I’m not feeling quite right.” Steele ordered, leaning over for another wave of sickness to pass.

“Alright boss man.” Hermes answered calmly.

With their assistance, Steele made it back to Novac in one piece. He managed to give them a short summary on the shit he’d seen, thought maybe that might help him somehow, but instead it only made things worse when neither Scratch, nor Hermes could respond.

“You should see the doc, that missile might have done more damage than was fixed by the hydra.” Hermes suggested.

“Yea, we’ll take your gear and see if we can sell the salvage and patch up your suit.” Scratch added.

“Thanks you two, but I need to lay down right now. You can take the salvage, but don’t sell the explosives. Might be useful later.” Steele answered, motioning toward the hotel rooms.

“You need to see a doc.” Hermes pressed.

“I need a fucking therapist right now.” Steele barked. “I’ll see the doc in the morning, it’s late anyway. I was in there all day and I’m tired. You two should get some sleep as well. We’ll deal with everything tomorrow.” He finished, making a feeble attempt at walking before finally being helped by his friends.

“Leave it to Steele to have a game plan after the shit he’s been through.” Hermes remarked.

“You can go Hermes, I’ll watch him tonight. Take the other room, but see if you can repair his armor first; I think I saw a trader roll in recently.” Scratch said. "Oh, and see if you can give that thing a wash first." She added, eyeing the crusty layer of blood with disgust.

“Hey, if you want to be left alone, just ask.” Hermes joked, but stopped laughing when Scratch stared him down. “Sorry, wrong time. Night you two.” He finished, grabbing Steele’s gear and setting out.

“I’m here if you need me Steele.” Scratch said, removing her own gear and grabbing her bed.

“Thanks.” Steele replied meekly. He used the bathroom to rinse off as much blood as he could, and collapsed on his bed under the concerned watch of Scratch.

He might have had his dirty, blood soaked armor off, but he still felt dirty inside. He felt like he let her down; he felt violated, abused, toyed with. He’d never believed in, not to mention interacted with ghosts before, and this was just one hell of a messed up first time. Am I losing it, could I just have been scared? He asked himself. He hoped to find solace in his insanity, but he knew he was lying. He felt her. He talked to her. There was no fucking way he imagined it. He comforted, then abandoned the ghost of a little filly who had endured so much suffering that she couldn’t accept the cold hard fate of death. The idea itself was so sickening that Steele rushed out of bed and puked into the toilet again. Once he had nothing left to puke, he steadied himself on the sink, and began to wash his face.

“You alright in there?” Scratch asked caringly, disappointed in her inability to help him further.

“I’ll be fine.” He answered gruffly, but the truth was he didn’t think he’d ever be fine again.

Steele looked up into the mirror and stared at his reflection; a pale, sickly, horror stricken face stared back. Relax Steele. It was just the stable and your mind. Hermes got to you that’s all. You pictured ghosts, saw a bunch of dead bodies, and made up a filly to keep you company. Point is, you got out of there, and you got the crystal. You got shit to do, Steele, toughen up! The Mojave was never easy, and you know that. Get yourself together. He motivated himself. Steele sighed and went back to bed. He felt a little better now, especially knowing that he had friends who got him out of there. Finally Steele’s exhaustion caught up to him, and he fell into a deep, uncomfortable slumber.