Fallout Equestria: Insanity's Flight

Chapters

Prologue: Captured
Hero
Voices
Echo Chamber
Paradise Found
A Happy Home
Interlude I: Identity
Crescent Harmony
A Broken Home
Time Enough At Last
How Does That Make You Feel
Family Reading Time
Trapped

Prologue: Captured

Fallout Equestria: Insanity’s Flight
By Storm128

Prologue: Captured

“Everything I was afraid of when I was growing up, I’ve become. I’ve taken on my nightmares, like the devil and the end of the world, and I’ve become those things.”

Six Months Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

“Can we hurry this up,” Downpour asked nervously, the helmet speakers coloring his voice in a subtle static. “Hauling this thing around is giving me the creeps.”

The power-armor clad pegasus stood at his post beside a large steel tube, roughly the size of a coffin. Several rows of rivets ran the lengths of heavy metal plate. Two curved doors across the front were bolted shut, and the subtle hum of a spark battery came from inside.

Another guard stood on the adjacent side, and two more uniformed serviceponies were busy heaving the object onto a flatbed cart. Overseeing the work was a light purple, stern-eyed mare, sporting her own black steel armor, but without the insect-like helmet. Her slightly darker mane was shaved nearly to her scalp.

“Stow it, Private,” Lieutenant Lavender Star snapped, “This is precious cargo we’re dealing with, and the General will not be happy if anything happens before it even gets on board.” She marched closer to the jittery buck, shoving her face against his helmet’s round goggles. “Or, would you like to be the one to explain why it was damaged during routine transport?”

“M-ma’am, no ma’am,” he stuttered, snapping an uncoordinated salute.

“Good, then as you were.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

The soldiers finished loading the cart, and followed the dozens of other pegasi beginning their ascent up the Eclipse’s cargo ramp. The raucous whir of the Thunderhead-class cloudship’s engines filled the air as the remaining personnel and supplies were brought on board. The two armored recruits took up their positions on either side of the package, with Lavender following them close behind.

The massive black warship illuminated the drab Marejave night. It dominated the local view, towering over the sparse mesas and sand dunes. The enormous artillery batteries that comprised its arsenal promised total eradication for anything on the receiving end. Some curious locals had come snooping around, but it was nothing a few of the cannons’ warning shots couldn’t clear up.

Can’t have any dirty surfacers interfering with a mission this important, Lavender thought sarcastically.

Officially, General Derecho had graciously volunteered to lead a scavenging and training expedition down to the surface. Most of the personnel on hoof for this operation were fresh recruits being introduced to life groundside for the first time. It was tedious work, and almost unheard of for somepony so highly ranked to lower themselves to such a task.

Unofficially, you didn’t need a warship to scavenge scrap metal and gun down raiders.

As they mounted the top of the ramp, Lavender snarled, “Get that loaded into bay 8A and then report to takeoff positions.” A small chorus of yes ma’ams sounded from the ponies before she split from the group to oversee the rest of the boarding process. She barked reprimands at recruits lazing about the giant cargo hold, directed where various pieces of supply and salvage were to be stored, and made sure every soldier was at the correct post.

It wasn’t often for an officer to take on such responsibilities, but the Lieutenant took pride in how meticulous she was in her command. She always made it a point to read over every written mission-briefing, personnel file, shipment manifest, and stock report affiliated with an operation. Coupled with her on-hoof method of dealing with troops in her charge and by-the-book execution of her duties, Lavender always made quite the show of her dedication to military life.

Just as she was assured that everything was prepared for takeoff, the sound of a group of soldiers conversing echoed from one of the darker corners of the cargo hold. “-believe that cunt of a Lieutenant even has to be around when we’re loading up,” she heard one buck say.

“Seriously,” a mare chimed in, “that fucking bitch can’t even let us do something this simple? Shouldn’t we have a sergeant in charge right now, anyway?”

“And what’s with these retarded rules she’s got us following,” the buck continued, “we can’t even fucking sw-”

Lavender stepped around a corner, bringing herself face to face with the insubordinate troops, and silencing the red, uniformed stallion mid-sentence. The forest green mare fell equally quiet, and a look of horror plastered itself on her face.

“L-lieutenant Lavender,” the buck stuttered, “w-we were just… uh… what I mean to say-”

“Looking for something to do?” Lavender asked quietly.

“Exactly,” the mare quickly responded, relief coloring her voice. “We finished up our orders and were just looking for a way to make ourselves usef-”

“Perfect,” Lavender interrupted, “I was just looking for a couple recruits to be on latrine duty. How does the next-” she put a hoof under her chin, “three months sound?”

Both ponies’ expressions fell into resigned acceptance. “Of course, ma’am,” they stated in unison.

“Thank you, recruits,” the Lieutenant responded, “and please, don’t forget my policy. As long as you’re under my command, no swearing.” They both snapped salutes before departing. As they disappeared from view, Lavender gave a small smile before continuing her inspection of the hold.

When all was in order, a raucous hiss emanated from the ramp’s hydraulics as an alarm sounded. The large, metal slab was lifted off the sandy ground and into its closed position with a thunk. The Eclipse’s engines reached a deafening roar, and the gentle feeling of ascension marked the cloudship’s departure.

The small communicator in Lavender’s ear chirped before Downpour’s voice broke through, “Uh… we’ve got a bit of a situation ma’am.”

The Lieutenant put a hoof to her ear, “Private, if you got lost again I swear…”

“N-no ma’am,” he interrupted, “we’re at bay 8A now, but so is the EIW, and they’re demanding the package be released to them.”

That got Lavender’s attention. The Enclave Intelligence Wing had originally been created by the High Council, and had been primarily used as a covert intelligence gathering unit, generally spying on questionable citizens of the Enclave itself. However, over the years, their responsibilities had warped until the agency was considered by many as the finest group of flyers since the Shadowbolts, and by others as the most dangerous, unpredictable fighting force in the Enclave arsenal. The Lieutenant often found herself in the latter group, but personal reasons made her feelings toward them fairly complex.

They weren’t part of the military. Effectively, they only answered to the whims of the High Council, and were only called upon when they wanted something kept away from the prying eyes of regular serviceponies or civilians. They were the boogiemen of the Enclave, carrying out unknown orders from the higher-ups with lethal prejudice.

“Hold them there, Private, I’m on my way,” Lavender barked into the communicator.

She wove through the various multicolored metal shipping containers, easily navigating the maze they created. The Lieutenant knew this boat, and her crew, better than anypony else. No one denied the fact that the ponies who were officially in command wouldn’t even flush a toilet on the Eclipse without running it by Lavender first.

That was what had her so on edge about the EIW’s involvement. She’d been aware of their presence since before they left Thunderhead, not much got by her radar. However, their contracts had them signed onto the operation as “training specialists.” Lavender could see those ponies doing a lot of things, but training greenhorns wasn't one of them. As far as she was aware, the only recorded action taken by them this entire deployment had been a single scouting mission last night. There were very few things that could get under Lavender’s skin, but being kept in the dark about anything pertaining to the execution of her duties was right at the top of the list.

As she rounded the final corner, she spied the four recruits stuttering nervously to a group of five ponies. All of them were clad in gold-striped, black power-armor.

"W-we're not under your command sir," Downpour sputtered, "our Lieutenant gave us our orders and-"

"Fuck your orders!" came the enraged, staticky response from the closest buck. "This is coming straight from the Goddess-damned General, and you will hoof over that package this fucking second!"

"Excuse me, sir," Lavender stated calmly, as she trotted past the recruits and up to the stallion. His helmet hid most of his features, but the missing goggles revealed vibrant yellow eyes. "What, exactly, is it that you're demanding of my recruits?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Lieutenant. The General has ordered that this package be brought to interrogation immediately."

"Why wasn’t I consulted first," Lavender responded, her voice clear of any emotion.

The buck sneered, "Because you don't need to be. Now, if you would be so kind as to fuck off, we can be on our way." He moved forward, harshly knocking his front shoulder into the Lieutenant.

She held her ground, causing the stallion to halt and stare down at the smaller pony. His pupils dilated in surprise as she leveled the same calm, reticent expression. “With all due respect, sir, this is my cargo hold, on my boat. The General and I both know that this won’t fly and, if he wants this package so badly, then I’ll be coming along with it.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you little bit-” he was cut off as Lavender rolled into the continued shove against her, spun around, and delivered a vicious, armored buck to his plated ear. The resounding gong echoed out, and the stallion fell to the floor, his hooves clutched over the dented armor.

“I will ask you to observe the same courtesy as everypony else in my hold, sir,” the purple mare spat, “no swearing.”

The stunned buck glared up at Lavender, a smoldering rage in his tear-filled eyes. He whipped around toward the other EIW pegasi, “What the fuck do you all think you’re doing, get this little bit-”

Another loud clang rang out as the Lieutenant shot a kick at the stallion’s helmet, landing directly on his temple. His sentence hung in the air as he fell to his side, the crash of his armor bowling over every other sound in the cargo hold.

Lavender glared back at the assembled pegasi, all of them shocked into silence. “None of you are members of my military. I don’t take my orders from you, and will not allow anything in my charge to be tampered with without proper procedure. If the General would like to circumvent the rules, then I will be coming along with you.”

They all gave silent nods, before stepping forward and hauling the unconscious buck onto another pony’s back. Lavender turned toward her recruits as two other EIW pegasi moved to take the cart. “Get to your takeoff stations, and wait for further orders.”

“W-what's going on ma’am,” Downpour stuttered. “Why are the spooks so interested in this thing?”

“Something’s going on here, Private, and I intend to find out what it is. Now, I gave you an order.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am,” he stated, snapping a salute.

Lavender returned the gesture, before about-facing and following the other pegasi. Huge metal doors shifted apart with a hiss as the group exited the cargo hold. The lights throughout the steel halls were dimmed in preparation for takeoff. Dozens of pegasi, and a few unicorns, were busily scurrying about the ship, stowing loose material, tying down supplies, and buckling themselves into seats.

Old habits kept the stoic mare scanning the halls, making sure nopony was slacking off and nothing was out of place. Any recruit that met her gaze refocussed intensely on whatever they’d been tasked with, found something important-looking to do, or snapped a salute. Although, they all seemed to share the same pleading look, praying that she wouldn’t stop to chew them out.

The Lieutenant gave a small smile, that’s exactly how she wanted them to feel. She wasn’t there to make friends, she was there to make soldiers. If that meant making herself out to be some hard-assed nightmare to new recruits, then so be it. When they had the experience and discipline to survive out in the wasteland, they’d be thanking her.

Looking to her left, Lavender spied one of the EIW mares staring at her. They were about the same height, but the armor hid all of the other pegasus’ features. She was also the only member of her group equipped with a battle-saddle, and the gold striping on her armor was far more ornate than the others. Both signified her as the wing commander of this particular squad.

“Can I help you,” Lavender stated flatly.

“Oh…” she gasped, averting her gaze, “no, it’s just… I… nevermind.”

The Lieutenant gazed curiously at her. Although her voice seemed to have some sort of modulation, there was something very familiar about it.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Well, ma’am, I just hope that you aren’t judging everypony in the EIW based on,” she gestured toward the unconscious buck, “him.”

Lavender smiled reassuringly, “No ma’am, I’ve always made it a point to only judge somepony based on their own merit, not the actions or reputations of where they give their loyalty.”

“I hope that’s true,” she sighed. “Seriously, most of us think he’s a total and complete ass. It’s ponies like him that give the EIW such a bad name.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lavender responded, realization coloring her voice. “I think I might know one or two that are alright.”

“O-oh?” the other mare stuttered nervously.

“Sure, in fact, I’ve got family in the EIW. But I’m sure you already know that, right Violet?”

The armored pegasus stopped in her tracks and, while her face was hidden, her body language detailed the shock she was feeling quite well.

“I-I… um…”

“You really think I wouldn’t recognize my own little sister?” Lavender stated calmly, “Although I have to say, giving a fake name on your deployment contract and the voice changer were nice touches. But, why didn’t you want me knowing you were here?”

Violet sighed, “Not my choice, just orders.”

“Orders to hide yourself away from your own sister?” Lavender continued, a touch of hurt entering her voice.

“Oh come off it, Lav,” the EIW pegasus suddenly spat, “It’s not like you’ve made a whole lot of fucking effort trying to keep in touch.”

The Lieutenant was taken aback at her sudden outburst, “What are you talking about? We both have our duties, and those have to come fir-”

“Goddess-dammit I know, duty always comes first. But it’s not like we had to completely cut ourselves off from each other. Do you even remember the last time we spoke, the last time you tried to contact me in any way?”

“Sure, it was… um…” now Lavender was the one at a loss for words. How long had it been since she’d spoken to her sister, or any of her family for that matter?

“Almost two years, Lav,” Violet growled.

“That long?” Lavender asked, a pit forming in her stomach.

“Yeah,” she responded, turning away from her sister and staring down the long hallway before them.

“Violet, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t, it’s not like it’s some big secret why you stopped talking to me.”

“What are you talking about,” the Lieutenant asked, a hint of confusion entering her speech.

“Simple, you hate what I’m doing with my life,” Violet stated. “You hate the EIW.”

“You can’t possibly think that,” Lavender barked, but she knew there was at least some truth to her sister's words.

“Of course I do,” Violet said, throwing her head back in exasperation. “Everypony knows how you feel about us. That we don’t have enough oversight, not enough regulation, not enough discipline for little miss by-the-book. You hate that I didn’t want any part of your little world, and wanted to actually make a Goddess-damned difference.”

“Do you think you could stop swearing for a minute,” Lavender snapped, immediately regretting her derailment of the conversation.

Violet let out a sarcastic laugh, “That is just so fucking like you, Lav. Ignoring the real issues for one of your petty little pet-peeves. What, you still believe dad’s bullshit policy that a few fucking swears hurts troop camaraderie? His whole reasoning was a complete load of garbage, it never made any sense. Guess what, big sis, adults fucking swear, we swear a whole Goddess-damn lot, especially in the military. We swear to compliment or insult our friends, and it’s even a real nice way of letting somepony know just how badly they’re pissing you off, and you're both complete morons for thinking otherwise.”

“Don’t talk about dad like-“

“Shit, piss, fuck, twat, cocksucker, motherfucker, tits, fart, turd…” Violet interrupted, leveling her gaze back at the Lieutenant, “Cunt.”

They walked in silence for a while, the subtle clangs of armored hooves marching across steel floors the only noise present in the hallway. The other three EIW agents all seemed to be trying their hardest to look like they hadn’t just heard the entire exchange, and instead focussed on trying to wake up their unconscious comrade.

After a few more minutes, they arrived at the Eclipse’s brig. The hallway diverged into three separate paths, each lined with a dozen cell doors on either side. The space between each hall housed another sliding metal door, leading to the two interrogation rooms. Standing in front of the closest room stood General Derecho, and his entourage.

The short, homely, light-blue pegasus had his white mane styled up in an ornate pompadour. He was younger than Lavender; an infuriating fact to be sure. His deep purple dress uniform was crisply ironed, and completely free of any lint or debris. His chest gleamed from meticulously shined medals, and a rainbow of service ribbons stretched across the entirety of his left breast. A golden aiguillette was draped across the medals.

Pretty impressive for somepony who’d only been serving for the last five years.

Latched onto either hip were the green and golden forms of Captains Mint Leaf and Golden Sunrise, both currently preoccupied with whispering and giggling into the General’s ears.

Lavender glared at the pair in disgust. Both had been a part of her own unit during basic, members of her squad during their first few deployments, and some of the very few ponies she’d once called friends.

They weren’t bad soldiers, at least not back then. They were just two victims of an entirely corrupt hierarchy with precious few methods of promotion outside of personal favors. Their current positions were only a result of playing ball with Derecho.

Although, playing with Derecho’s balls might be the more appropriate way to put it. Goddesses know that he wasn’t reeling in the mares with his good looks or sparkling personality.

Prying his attention away from the lustful mares at his side, Derecho addressed the Lieutenant. “Ah, Lavender, what a… pleasant surprise,” the sneer he gave set the purple mare’s blood boiling.

“Sir,” she stated formally, snapping a salute.

“Oh come now,” he said lazily, “Is there any need for such formalities amongst friends?”

“Sir, I’d prefer to keep it that way, sir,” she responded evenly, not giving him the satisfaction of showing any emotion.

He shrugged, “Suit yourself. Although, I must ask what, exactly, do you think you’re doing here? I’m afraid I don’t recall summoning you.”

“Sir, this package has an elevated priority status. Normally, a full set of requisition forms need to be processed if it is to be evaluated before being sent through military customs. In the event that such a policy must be circumvented, then the resident pony-at-arms must be present for any and all analysis of said cargo.” Lavender subtly lowered her gaze, allowing her to peer down at the smaller pony, “Since you decided that the responsibilities of the pony-at-arms could be piled onto those I already possess, I'm the closest thing we have at the moment. I’m just following proper procedure, sir.”

A look of annoyance swiftly colored the General’s face, before the same smug confidence returned. “Of course, Lieutenant, and I certainly commend you on your adherence to policy. However, I should let you know that the EIW and I have the situation well enough in hoof.” Derecho stepped closer to Lavender, meeting her gaze, “Now, why don’t you run along and make sure the grunts have their gig lines straight, or whatever it is you normally do.”

“Sir, I’m afraid that would be breaking protocol, and I will need to include it in my post-mission report, sir.”

His demeanor broke again, a flash of rage crossing him, before it simmered down to a look of annoyed contempt. “So be it, Lieutenant, head to the observation room with the Captains.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Lavender stated, before she turned and marched away. She stopped while passing Violet, giving the armored mare a morose look.

“I’m sorry, Vi.”

Violet looked taken aback, “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry and… I love you. I know I don’t say it enough, but I do.” She stepped closer, placing her front hoof on her sister’s shoulder. “I haven’t been there for you nearly as much as I should have, but you’re my sister and I want to fix that. Do you think, once we get back to Thunderhead, we can go get dinner or something and just talk?”

Violet’s body language made her look torn. She stared at the ground, moving her head side to side as she contemplated her sister’s words.

“My treat?” Lavender continued.

The armored mare sighed, “Fine, dinner, but don’t think this means I’m any less pissed at you.”

“It’s ok,” the Lieutenant responded, “I just want to spend some time together.” She moved forward and threw both front legs around her younger sister, completely breaking any protocols about public displays of affection, and pulled Violet into a tight hug.

The other mare stiffened for a second, but relaxed and eventually returned the gesture.

“Um…” came the grating voice of Mint Leaf, “If you’re quite done groping that mare, do you think we can get going? The General gave us an order.”

Lavender shot her an annoyed look, but released her sister and moved alongside the other two pegasi. As they began the short walk to the observation room, the Lieutenant gave a final look back, waving a silent farewell.

“So,” the light green mare started, “how’ve you been Lavender? It’s been a while.”

“Forgive my abruptness, ma’am,” Lavender responded, “but I’m part of your crew, we see each other on every deployment.”

“Oh, you know what I mean, it’s been forever since we’ve actually had a chance to really talk. And stop it with that ma’am crap, the Generals not around.”

“But I’m sure you wish he was,” the Lieutenant snapped, immediately chiding herself for breaking her stoic, professional demeanor.

“Excuse you, Lieutenant? What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

Fuck it, Lavender swore to herself. “You know Goddess-damned well what it means, and if either of you had enough self-respect to take the dick out of your mouths for a minute, you’d see just what a piece of shit the buck you’re servicing actually is.”

“That’s enough, Lieutenant,” Golden snapped, “You’re way out of line.”

“Then court-martial me, Captain. But you won’t, for the same reason he keeps me around, because you all know this boat would fall the fuck apart without me. So, if it pleases you, wipe your mouths and let’s try to make this as quick and painless as possible. I haven’t the time, or the patience for catching up.”

Both Captains wore expressions of utter shock, each looking like they wanted to bring down some sort of punishment, but also knowing the Lieutenant was absolutely right.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Lavender finished, “you’ve got a little white something on your lips there.” She was lying, but took a small bit of satisfaction from both officers immediately wiping a hoof across their mouths. She also had to hoof it to Violet, both Captains were now well aware of just how pissed Lavender was at their behavior.

A few seconds later, the trio arrived at the entrance to the observation room. The clunk of gears spinning sounded as the metal door slid apart, and revealed a window into the interrogation cell. Inside was a completely bare and sterile room, the only items being a single metal table with a chair on either side, and a mirror spanning the entire length of the rear wall. From the opposing side of the two-way mirror, the three mares could clearly see Derecho, Violet and two other EIW agents swarming around the metal casket.

The General was acting like a foal on Hearths Warming Eve, bounding about, as the black armored pegasi removed each of the restraints holding the pod closed. Upon opening the final lock, Violet leveled her battle-saddle at the doors, the high-pitched whine of her plasma rifles warming clearly heard through the intercom.

The two remaining EIW pegasi each grasped onto an edge of the tube, and pulled it open with a hiss. A subtle fog spilled out and pooled along the cell floor.

As the mist dispersed, Lavender could see a pony was contained within, strapped onto a dolly, restrained with a straitjacket, and with a metal mask muzzling him. It was a steel-gray buck, although huge portions of his coat were wrinkled and showing the darker shade of healed burns. The wounds extended to his flanks, where a bit of discoloration marked his ruined cutie mark. His mane was filthy and hung in long, light and dark blue clumps. His face was a mess of old scars, and even more scorched flesh. What once was a unicorn horn was now a jagged, malformed shard of bone jutting out of his forehead. An empty cavity was all that remained of his right eye, while the left was the same midnight blue as his mane.

The most striking feature of all was immediately beneath the empty socket. In bold, machined letters stood a horrifying brand, the word STAB in block capitals. It ran from just beneath the eye, down and meeting the edge of his mouth.

The two Captains let out horrified gasps, but Lavender just peered at the buck curiously. Despite his situation, there was an obvious calm about him. The subtle spark of intelligence gleamed in his remaining eye, and the Lieutenant could almost swear that he was staring right at her.

“That’s not who I think it is, is it?” Lavender asked as the dolly was wheeled out from within the pod, and stood at the one edge of the table.

“Y-yes,” Captain Sunrise stuttered, an obvious fear pervading her voice, “that’s him, Stab.”

Over the past year, the name Stab had garnered Olden Pony-like status amongst the Enclave. No less than twelve different attacks on their forces had been laid directly at his hooves, the fruit of his work being apparent in every one. Each confrontation had left the soldier’s armor and weapons stripped, giving rise to theories that it was just a string of simple robberies.

Their bodies, on the other hoof, told a different story.

They were the stuff of nightmares: disembowelments, some interesting knife play, and even live burials had been amongst the more tame causes of death. Some of the corpses showed signs of severe long term trauma, hinting that their suffering had been drawn out to some truly horrifying lengths.

However, those he kept alive were far worse to deal with. Sure, there were the odd ones who’d simply been out on patrol or otherwise preoccupied, only returning to discover their slaughtered comrades. Most, however, had been captured and forced to watch. They ranged over a variety of mental states, some reduced to babbling, incoherent wrecks. Others spoke about the experience with an almost holy reverence, seeing this pony as some new incarnation of a vengeful God who’d shown them mercy. Still more had simply found ways of killing themselves within hours of retelling their experience, unable to cope with what they’d been forced to witness. Commitments to military psyche-wards had almost doubled in the last year, every one of them a survivor of that maniac’s hoofiwork.

“That’s what this was all about,” Lavender snapped, “capturing him?!”

They nodded in unison. “The General received a personal message several days ago,” Golden Sunrise began, “It detailed precise times and locations of future ambushes planned for our patrols. The General knew that Neighvarro would never let us launch an investigation in their territory without their involvement, so he made up an excuse.”

Lavender nodded in understanding, it wasn’t uncommon for officers to circumvent dealing with other Enclave installations by detailing a mission as a training exercise. She was a bit annoyed, however, that she hadn’t caught on earlier. “And he just took that on faith?” Lavender responded. “How in the hell would he know it wasn’t an ambush set up for us?”

“That’s why we have the EIW,” Mint Leaf piped in. “The council felt this was far too important to be left up to a regular patrol, so they were authorized to accompany us. They were deployed last night, and were told to lie in wait for Stab to show up at the ambush site.”

A worried feeling began to tingle at the base of the Lieutenant’s neck, “What about the patrol he was meant to ambush?”

The two Captains looked at each other awkwardly, neither of them seeming like they wanted to answer the question. “W-well,” Sunrise began, “the EIW were ordered to only interfere once they felt most assured they would be successful in capturing him, and that just so happened to be-”

“While he was distracted,” Lavender finished, her demeanor becoming stoic, but a burning rage rampaged through her heart. That piece of shit Derecho had willfully sacrificed the lives of Enclave soldiers just to make sure Stab didn’t escape, even when they were fully equipped to stop him.

“Correct,” Mint Leaf stated, her own disposition reaching a calm state. “And please try and patch that bleeding heart of yours Lavender. Stab’s capture is infinitely more important than the lives of a few grunts.”

The Lieutenant wanted nothing more than to beat some appreciation for their comrade’s sacrifice into the two mares before her, but the pegasi in the other room finished setting up the psychopath opposite Derecho.

“Well, well, well,” the General began, “the infamous Stab, in the flesh. Or, at least, what’s left of it I suppose,” he flashed that infuriating grin again. “I don’t reckon there’s something else that I can call you? You must admit, Stab is a rather stupid name.” The buck opposite him remained silent.

“My name is General Derecho,” he continued, “and I’ve heard quite a lot about you. No fewer than twelve confirmed attacks on our troops, and not a single report detailing any signs of more than one assailant. Very impressive.”

Stab’s pupil rolled toward the bottom of his eye, scanning back and forth as if he were looking for something, but stayed silent.

“Our troops are considered by many as the finest left in Equestria, and yet, here you are, standing on the eviscerated corpses of more than fifty of them. Such a feat must require a tremendous amount of skill, a shame that it couldn’t be put to use in a more productive way. I could, personally, use somepony with such abilities. But alas, it’s just too ba-“

The General cut himself off as he stared at the mutilated buck, who had begun quietly muttering to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Derecho continued, “am I boring y-“

“WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Stab suddenly shouted, causing everypony in the room to jump back in surprise. Even through the muffling caused by the muzzle, Lavender could hear that his voice portrayed him to be younger than his appearance allowed, probably somewhere in his mid-twenties. It also had a bit of a gravelly undertone.

“Excuse you, what did you just say to me?” Derecho asked, his expression changing to pure rage.

Stab looked around the room, almost as if he was confused that everypony had just heard him. “Oh, my apologies General,” he began calmly, “I wasn’t speaking to you, I was just trying to hush up my… associate. Please, do go on.”

“Your… associate?” the small pegasus inquired, his eyes narrowing.

Stab didn’t respond at first, but resumed muttering. Now, however, it was at least audible enough for everypony to hear.

“Yes… yes… I know I… if you’d just let me fini-… yes… yes… because it’s not appropriate right n-… fine… ok… yes… fine… fine… I SAID FUCKING FINE!” he finished, shouting the final line. Both rooms were completely silent, and curious expressions formed on everypony’s faces.

Finally, Stab looked up at the blue pegasus, “General, my associate and I would like to formally request that you begin fondling my nuts.”

“W-wha… WHAT?!” Derecho shouted, his earlier rage completely overridden by shock.

Stab kept his voice calm and professional, “I would like you to place my testicles in your mouth, and begin servicing them. You know, as long as you’re going to be down there sucking my dick like that.”

The two Captains were shocked into silence, but Lavender couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The stallion may have rightfully been one of the Enclave’s most wanted, but it was still nice to see somepony with the balls, she giggled again, to put the General in his place.

Derecho looked at a complete loss for words, shocked that somepony would even dare speak to him like that. “P-perhaps I should just… skip to the point,” he finally stuttered.

“Oh,” Stab continued, his eye growing wide, “you want to do this here? Well, alright, but do you think you could tell your cronies there to leave the room? I’ve got a little bit of performance anxiety, but I think you’ll find my cock plenty worth it in the long ru-“

Derecho suddenly stood and backhoofed the restrained buck, placing himself right in front of Stab’s face, and forcing their gazes to meet.

“What I’m trying to say, you disrespectful little shit,” the General growled, “is that when we get back to Thunderhead, you’ll be very valuable in helping me-“

A wide grin abruptly formed on Stab’s face, before he lunged his head toward Derecho, snapping his teeth and letting out a terrifying roar. Although the restraints around him only allowed the stunt to cover a few inches, it was enough to send the General backpedalling, tripping over his chair, and falling right on his ass.

The small pegasus had a terrified look on his face, and an expression of embarrassment soon followed as everypony turned to stare.

A chilling laugh filled the room, and Stab’s shoulders shook as it increased to a fevered, maniacal pitch. After he quieted a bit, he began to speak.

“Look at the little king in his mighty castle,” the tone he adopted was almost like a parent chiding their child. “Don’t try and patronize me, little king. You think you know me? You don’t have the first fucking clue. However, you can rest assured that I know everything worth knowing about you.”

“W-what do you mean,” the General stuttered, failing as he tried to mask the fear overrunning his tone.

The bound buck’s grin only widened, “Brigadier General Derecho, twenty four years old, and one of the youngest officers in the Enclave's history to ever attain such a rank. Even with less than stellar academy grades, and only being sent on nine deployments, only three of which included any actual engagements, you have had a meteoric rise in the Enclave military. Your mother is High Councilmare Drizzling Skies who, obviously, had more than a little influence in your appointment. The two of you meet for dinner twice a week at her fabulous home in Thunderhead, from which you promptly depart to fuck two of the mares behind that mirror.”

Mint Leaf and Golden Sunrise both adopted expressions of horror as the psychopath in the other room glared directly at them, before returning his gaze to the General.

“They don’t actually like you, by the way, but kudos on roping them into this little menage a trois. I mean it, that is some slick underhoofedness if I’ve ever seen it. And… oh,” a look of surprise crossed his face, “the third mare back there at least has some backbone. She didn’t take you up on the offer, did she? That must be very frustrating for somepony who’s used to getting whatever they want. So you punish, abuse, and demean her, even though she is far more capable than-” he cut himself off, looking as if he was pondering something, before continuing, “anypony else on this boat.”

Lavender was taken aback. He was right, and she’d long been aware that Derecho’s attitude toward her had been a punishment for refusing to dive into bed with him. Her skin still crawled from the memory of that day, him calling her into his office with all the authority his rank allowed, and the feeling of his hooves caressing her coat as he whispered the offer into her ear still made her feel ill. It'd been her first real awakening to just how corruptible and depraved members of her military could be. The conversation had ended with a violent rejection from her, but also with Mint and Golden ready and willing to lick his wounds. That day, she'd not only had her faith in the righteousness of military duty shaken, but lost her two best friends as well.

But how in Celestia’s name could he possibly know all that?

“Sorry to go off on that tangent, I do have a horrible habit of digressing,” Stab continued. “It’s no secret that you and mummy-dearest have been plotting for some time to get you on the High Council, and you saw the chance of capturing me as the perfect act to propel you into the hearts and minds of the entire Enclave as the hero who brought down Stab. Now we’re on our way back to Thunderhead, where you will present me to the Enclave High Council, explain to Neighvarro that it was one big coincidence that your ‘training operation’ just so happened to be right where I had just attacked some of their troops, and everypony will be singing your praises. You’ll be rocketed out of military life and, in the next few years, fast-tracked toward the cushy Councilbuck job you’ve always dreamed of.”

You could cut the tension with a knife. The subtle, staticky breathing of the EIW pegasi was the only noise permeating the space.

“So,” Stab asked after a few awkward seconds, “how’d I do?”

"I... I... I... um..." Derecho sputtered. He had a look of shock plastered on his face. Everyone in the room was woefully aware of just how far the General had stepped out of his depths in taking on this pony, and he wasn't even in a position to do them any harm. With words alone, he'd torn down the smug air of self-confidence the General walled himself behind and revealed the inexperienced, spoiled little brat he actually was.

"Oh no," the gray buck continued, "don't tell me I scared you speechless. Believe it or not, I like the sound of your voice.” He leaned forward against his restraints, "Please, let me hear your voice again, little king. I'm really going to miss it after I've ripped out your throat," he then threw his head back and released a demonic cackle that set the nerves of every pegasi in the room ablaze.

Derecho was breathing very quickly, panicked gasps clearly being heard even with the lunatic’s laughter. “T-t-take Mr. Stab to his c-cell,” he finally sputtered, before shouting, “NOW!” when the agents failed to react instantaneously.

Violet moved first, taking up a position that kept both her plasma rifles levelled at Stab’s chest. The two other armored pegasi moved behind him, tipped back the dolly, and wheeled the giggling psychopath out into the hall.

Just before he disappeared from sight, he shot his gaze back at Derecho. “See you soon, little king,” he called before continuing to revel in his merriment.

Everypony stood in silence, letting what just occurred hang in the air like a thick fog. Derecho sat in the interrogation room, the expression on his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Rage, confusion, fear, and even a subtle hint of awe all stood out prominently. Finally, he spoke up, “C-captains, both of you are to report to my quarters immediately. Lieutenant, return to your post, we’re done here.”

Mint Leaf stepped forward and pressed a button on the console before them. “Of course, General,” she said into the intercom before about-facing and marching out into the hall with Golden in tow. Lavender remained, carefully watching Derecho as he moped about the cell for a few more seconds. He must have thought them all gone as she saw a few shining trails of tears sprout from his eyes.

She then stepped forward and pressed the button herself. “Sir,” she stated, Derecho jumping at her sudden intrusion, “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, sir.” Lavender released the controls and began to make her own way out.

For all of our sakes, she thought to herself.

This certainly wasn’t my first time wearing a straitjacket. When you conduct yourself the way I do, it’s a pretty rock solid eventuality. It’s been inconvenient, to say the least, but it meant I had some practice in dealing with them. All it would take is waiting for the right moment to make my move.

He was a prick, said an annoying, laid-back male voice in my head.

Bit of an understatement, I thought back to the voice.

Gotta give him credit, though, the voice continued, he's got you pegged. I mean, are you seriously gonna stick with this whole Stab thing? It really is a dumb fucking name.

It's easy to remember, I responded, thinking about the brand standing out prominently on my cheek.

Don't lie, you think it sounds edgy and cool. Dumbest shit I've heard from you in a while. He was quiet for a second, until he found something else to focus on. He’s also got impeccable taste in mares. You should’ve seen those two he’s got wrapped around his dick. Hey, here’s a thought, how’s about we actually try and get you laid after this? Those two might be awful grateful for what you’re about to do to that little shit, and it’s not like you’ve really gotten any since-

Drop it, now, I thought angrily.

I mean, sure, those little Dash-heads you rut senseless every once in a while are nice and all, but nopony has had quite the... vigor that-

“SHUT THE FUCK UP KOE!” I shouted aloud to the voice. The three pegasi all jumped into position, the whine of their plasma rifles piercing the resulting silence. “Oh,” I continued sheepishly, “sorry about that. Voices in my head telling me to murder, rape, and pillage, you know how it is.”

They looked skeptically at each other before shrugging and moving back into formation, continuing our journey down the dim, steel hallway.

Pillage, Koe said, really? I mean, murder and rape, definitely, but pillage? What are you, a fucking viking?

And what would you call stripping the dead of everything they'd ever owned and selling it off to the highest bidder, I asked accusingly.

Cashing out our plunder, dipshit, he responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

So, we’re pirates then?

Fuck yeah, pirates are way cooler.

Just making sure we’re on the same page, I thought sarcastically.

Yar, matey, Koe responded, taking on a pirate accent. So, what be the plan to send that spineless, pitiful cur down to Neighvy Jones’ Locker?

Simple, I began, I break through these restraints, kill the guards, take their keys, track that tiny pricked prick down and rip his Goddess-damned throat out.

Wow, Koe said with sarcastic approval, that’s a fuck-ton more thought out than most of your other plans.

Right? I asked excitedly.

If a disembodied voice could roll their eyes, I feel that's what he was doing. You're not that stupid, right? I didn’t raise you to be this stupid

Yeah, you were a regular dad of the year, Koe, I thought back. Have some patience, we just have to wait for the right moment.

Suddenly, a chirping sounded from the power-armor clad mare aiming her rifles at me. She placed a hoof to her ear before speaking. "Report, what's the status on-"

A muffled voice spoke in her ear. "Good," she responded after a few seconds, "he's awake and-"
her communicator interrupted her again, and the voice on the other end began to sound desperate.

"Wh... I.... slow down no-" she sputtered, the other two pegasi flanking me brought us to a halt as she spoke more fervently.

"He wants to do what to the Lieutenant?!" she finally snapped. "Oh that immature little... ok, just keep him there, I'm on my way."

She lowered her hoof and faced the two other pegasi. "Thunder Claps awake and, apparently, not too happy with my sister right now. Get Mr. Stab to his cell, and then report to the barracks. We'll draw straws to see who has to keep first watch on him tonight."

"Fucking really?" a mare to my left sighed. "Look, Violet, he might be a little psycho, but he's not goin' anywhere. I thought we were gonna be celebratin' tonight."

"Can't be too sure with this one, Bits," Violet said. "We all saw what he was doing to those soldiers when we showed up."

The buck to my right shivered, and the mare looked down at the ground awkwardly. I felt that was a very opportune time to butt in, "Oh, that was a lot of fun. It's always such a joy trying to find new and interesting ways of busting those little tin cans of yours open. Although, I have to say, cooking your buddies over that bonfire took a lot longer than I would've thought. Hell, with all that smoke and screaming, I'm shocked you lot didn’t find me any sooner. Glad you didn’t, because there’s really nothing like roast pegasus. I’m real partial to the wings myself."

The two pegasi flanking me moved forward, anger pervading each step. That's it, I thought to myself, get emotional, start fucking up, you can do it.

The one with the battle saddle stepped forward as well, but placed a front hoof on both of her comrade's shoulders. "Don't let him get to you," she stated comfortingly, “this bastard is gonna pay for what he’s done.”

“Unless I stage some grand escape,” I stated with a flourish of my mane. “Oh, it’ll be right out of some two-bit adventure story. The daring hero topples the evil king, escapes his knights, dives out of the tower window, and blows a kiss to the beautiful princess as he lands, unharmed, in a bale of hay below.” I finished my little tale with a small smooch directed at the mare in front of me.

Damn, that little pony could give a mean right hook. My ear rang, and a field of beautiful stars danced in my vision as the edges began to darken.

I think you made her mad, Koe chimed in.

Ya ssthink? I mentally slurred.

“That should shut him up long enough for you two to get him in his cell,” the mare said, though everything seemed slightly muffled.

“Ohhh,” I sighed drunkenly, “I like you, you’ve got spirit, a real go-to attitude. Now that is just so hard to find these days. It’s a shame, really, but don’t worry,” I lowered my voice to a low growl and let a sickening grin spread across my face, “I’ll try and kill you last.”

She kept her gaze level, although the helmet hid if she reacted to my threat in any way. “Bits, Gray, please escort our guest to his cell,” she stated evenly. Then she marched around me and continued back the way we’d came.

The dolly creaked as we set back in motion, moving toward my lavish accommodations no doubt. I peered to either side, trying to assess the pegasi beside me. Despite their helmets, I could see the mare was a bit surly, but otherwise unbothered by the situation. Not good enough, I thought, need something that’ll get under their skin. Glancing at the buck, I could see him affectionately rubbing an armored wing against his shoulder, right where the pissy mare had touched him. Perfect.

I whistled, “Damn, that sweet thing can throw a punch.” The two pegasi remained silent, continuing to lead me down the hall. “Either of you gettin’ a piece of that? I’ll tell ya, if I were ya’ll, I’d be trying to get between those fine flanks whenever I had the chance.” I smacked my lips, “Nothing like a strong, confident mare in bed. Somepony who can really toss you down, and take charge. But you want to know my favorite part?”

I turned toward the buck. Barely repressed anger shook his every step, and his gaze was locked straight ahead as he tried to ignore me. Time to light the fuse, “When she admits she wants me to take control. Begging me to show her things that nopony would ever dare try. Pressing her face into the floor while I-”

Gray suddenly turned, roared, “Shut your fucking mouth!” and delivered a vicious applebuck to my side. The dolly and me were sent toppling into Bits, the armored mare shrieking as the pile of metal and maniac pinned her to the floor.

My side exploded in agony as the power-armored kick plowed into me, while the sound of shattering ribs bombarded my ears. I grit my teeth, tucked my head toward my chest, and breathed deeply. I visualized the pain as a creeping fire traveling across my skin, a sensation I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with. I imagined the skin fueling the flames burnt and fell away, killing the blaze before it spread further. The wound began to numb, and its presence fell toward the back of my consciousness.

The armored buck gasped, “Holy shit, Bits!” He grabbed the dolly, and heaved me across the hall. The resulting crash required several more sessions of watching my skin burn away… and maybe a small round of vomiting blood, but it was worth it as the distinctive sound of breaking metal followed the locks at my side springing open. I rolled onto the floor, finally relaxing the muscles in my chest and front legs, and giving myself a bit of slack in the straitjacket.

I could hear the two pegasi righting themselves, it was time get going. The muscles in my throat expanded and contracted as I wretched, and a long, small object pushed itself upward. I grasped it in my teeth, turned my head toward the floor, and let the slick, crimson sheath fall off my pen knife.

As the black metal shone in the dim light, a sickening hum assaulted my hearing, and a chilling jolt lanced its way through me. Ignoring the sensations, I lifted my head over my legs, allowing the knife to drop through the bars in my muzzle, and into the gap the slack had created. With it firmly grasped, I lowered my head and easily sliced through the thick straps around my face. When the muzzle clattered to the floor, I grabbed the knife in my teeth, and cut through my jacket. Even against the stiff canvas, the humming blade sliced through the straps around me like a hot knife through butter.

I only had one leg undone when the two pegasi turned back toward me, saw my limb free, and readied their holstered rifles. They shouted words of warning as the first green blast turned the muzzle beside my head into a small pile of dust. I pushed myself off the floor, and behind the dolly. The steel shielding me began to melt away as both soldiers began unloading their plasma rifles. Within seconds, it was almost completely reduced to molten slag. “Don’t you assholes have some sort of rule about firing guns in-flight?!” I called toward my attackers.

Pretty sure this is a bit of an extenuating circumstance, Koe commented.

The knife slashed across my final restraint, allowing me to pull free of the jacket, and begin rushing toward the guards. My coat sizzled and burnt as the green beams of light danced around me, the searing pain they left falling away. A mad grin sprouted across my face, and my eye grew wide and manic. The effect was exactly as I had intended, the two hesitated, causing a slight pause in their fire. The distance closed almost instantly, allowing me to barrel right into the mare and slash the knife across her respirator. A raucous hiss followed a jet of white mist spraying from the split hose, and Bits fell to her stomach scrabbling at the helmet’s restraints.

I didn’t give her the chance as I grasped onto her shoulders, flipped myself onto her back, and dragged the blade across her throat. The sound of wrenching metal filled the air as the tiny blade parted the power armor like wet tissue paper. A spray of crimson erupted from the deep slash in Bits' neck, followed by a static-filled gurgle blasting from her helmet's speakers as she tried to press her hooves over the gaping wound.

"Bits!" The buck cried again, before leveling his rifle. I threw my forelegs underneath the dying mare's, and heaved with all my might. The pony weighed a ton in her armor, but, with a creak, I pulled her torso in front of me just as the first few shots reached us. She jerked and grunted a few times before becoming still, and her black steel armor began to warm and warp. With a wail of anguish, Gray stopped firing. “You motherfucker!”

“Hold on now,” I shouted over his plaintive cries, “I’ve done a ton of fucked up things in my life, but that is just going way too-” he kicked me again. This time, the armored hoof appeared over my shield’s lifeless helmet, giving me just enough time to duck my head before it was made into modern art on the wall. Instead, it plowed into my left shoulder, bulldozing me off the dead mare, and into the hard steel behind us. The back of my head felt like it’d been split open, my ears rang, and the world started going a little Dash-trip on me. My jaw fell open, and I heard the humming blade fall away and clatter to the floor. My vision blurred, but I could just make out a large, black shape charging closer.

As my head and ribs fought for the crippling pain supremacy award, I managed to roll myself to the floor just before another vicious buck dented in the wall. Landing on my right side had the academy voting unanimously in favor of my ribs and they took the stage with thunderous applause, or maybe that was just the screech of pain I let loose, who knows?

“You,” the pegasi gasped as he stalked toward my prostrate form, “are going to fucking pay.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure of that,” I wheezed, trying to bring back my visualization, but there wasn’t time.

“Not in Thunderhead,” he growled, “right fucking now. You’re going to suffer for what you did to her.”

“Ok, first off,” I chided quietly, “you really don’t want to talk to me about suffering, it’ll give you nightmares. Second, let’s not forget, you had a hoof in little miss Bits' untimely demise too. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the one that actually put her in the gr-”

He brought his forelegs up in an eerily familiar… crushing way. Huh, deja vu. The armored hooves slammed into the floor as I rolled to the left. “Stay still!” the enraged buck cried.

“See now,” I called, rolling to avoid another flattening strike, “that doesn’t seem to be entirely conducive to my health.”

“SHUT! UP! AND! DIE!”

Another blow clipped my unwounded shoulder, compressing the bone, and filling the air with a sharp crack. My vision exploded into a blinding white, and my throat felt as if it were about to rupture from my screams. The world came back into focus just in time to see the killing blow rise above me. “Oh come on,” I whined, “what’re you so upset about anyway?”

The pegasus froze, his body language giving off an air of utter confusion, but remained poised above me. “Are… are you fucking serious?” he asked, rage and bewilderment coloring his speech. “You killed my best friend!”

“Did I?” I gasped, as my mind raced for a plan with the precious seconds I was buying myself. “You see, as I recall, I was just making polite conversation when somepony got a little emotional. Now, in case you didn’t get the memo-” I suddenly grasped onto the sides of the buck’s helmet, and heaved myself up toward his face. “I’m a little bit out of my Goddess-damned mind, and perhaps you should have been acting with a bit more decorum when dealing with somepony as dangerous as me.” I widened my eye at Gray, who merely stared back in awe. For fuck’s sake this guy was thick. “I’m just a mad dog, and you let me off my leash.” He continued to stare at me, but I could see a subtle shaking in his shoulders. I could just imagine the abject horror plastered on his face as my words registered. “You killed Bits, Gray,” I whispered.

“No, I-,” he sputtered, a gentle sob cracking his voice, “I didn’t mean- but you- I just- I…” Suddenly, he cried out, threw his head to the side, and brought his hooves up a bit further before ramming them down toward me. Luckily, he was distracted just long enough for me to slide out from beneath the stallion, and dive back toward where I’d hit the wall. A piercing gong resounded throughout the hall as the floor was dented in where I’d lain just moments before. I scanned the floor, and spied the glint of dark metal shining. I dove for the knife, just as a green beam planted itself in the floor between us. I backpedaled from the smoking spot and threw a look back at Gray, who’d apparently just remembered that he was carrying a gun.

“Oh no you don’t,” he called before opening up with the plasma rifle again. The superheated blasts rained around me with the frequency and impreciseness that spawns from fighting emotionally. If I could just keep him shooting, he’d run dry eventually.

“Aw, what’s wrong Gray,” I mocked as I attempted to limp in a zig-zag, narrowly avoiding the bursts of plasma. “It’s not like we killed the mare of your dreams or anything. Unless… oh-” I called, placing a hoof over my mouth, “did you want both of them? Seems a little greedy to me, but eh-” I tried to shrug my shoulders, but they both exploded in agony, almost toppling me to the floor. Swiftly, I regained my composure. “Maybe the good Generals rubbing off on you,” I finished through gritted teeth.

“Fuck you,” Gray shrieked, continuing to pump the hall full of green death, before the unmistakable fizzle and click of a dead spark-battery sounded from the rifle. My ears perked at the sound, and I smiled mischievously. I’d managed to limp to the other end of the hall, giving me all the time I could ever need. Even the most skilled marksman would need at least eight seconds to reload that model of rifle without unicorn assistance.

Ok, Koe, I thought at the voice in my head, I'm gonna need your help on this one.

You sure? Koe asked, You kind of passed out like a bitch last time.

Fuck you, I thought, if it fails we’re dead either way, now just do it.

Alright, tough guy, one super mental morphine coming up. I clenched my eye shut, brought up my burning visualization, and prepared for the worst. It began as a small spark on my flattened shoulder, but spread quickly to a raging inferno. The other shoulder followed suit, as well as my side. With Koe's assistance, it felt as if every aching part of myself suddenly burst into blinding flames, the sensation searing across my consciousness, and drawing forth a piercing screech from my lips. The image was so vivid, it was almost as if the blaze was truly erupting from within, and roasting me from the inside out. The pain was indescribable in its intensity and voracity, and yet, in a strange way, familiar and comforting. Like an old friend that I wasn’t particularly fond of meeting again, and yet still glad to do so. I mean, how many friends can one hold onto in the wasteland anyway? You've gotta take what you can get.

Then, as it always did, the wounds began to char and flake apart, killing the flame’s fuel source, and numbing the mind-crippling trauma to a minor ache. Peeling open my eyes again, I could see Gray fumbling for the new battery. As if all my limbs were whole, I began to gallop down the hall, my manic smile spreading wide across my face again. The buck looked up just in time to see me, and froze completely. I suppose it was quite the sight, a pony who’d only moments before been desperately limping away, outclassed and sporting wounds that would knock anyone else right out of the fight, was barreling toward him without a care in the world. As the distance closed, I compressed my rear legs before bounding over the shocked buck, landing on his back, and leaping once more toward my fallen blade.

With the humming knife in my teeth, I faced Gray. He seemed to finally be overcoming his surprise, and finished loading his rifle. The beams of plasma flew all around me, several managing to leave smoking holes in my flesh, but the pain faded away beside the might of Koe’s inferno. I closed the distance between us before diving under the buck’s legs again, but this time shoving the side of my head upward and plunging the long, thin blade into the armored belly of my assailant. Another screech of wrenching metal filled the air before a cascade of sparks, blood, and guts poured from the stallion’s stomach, soaking me in his gore.

A gurgled cry of anguish escaped the buck’s helmet before he collapsed to his side. He desperately tried to shove the thin bits of entrails back inside himself, but only managed to slice them off on the jagged edges of his armor. Gray bits of Gray began to litter the brig’s floor.

I stood over the prostrate buck, as he had me just minutes before. His cries of agony were drowned out in the chorus of all those constantly swimming through my mind. His were nothing special, and that’s how he was going to die, unremarkable and forgotten.

With two more quick slashes, the metal around his neck shrieked, before his helmet toppled off his head and clattered to the steel floor. Beneath was a black buck with a gray mane shaved almost to his scalp. His eyes were sealed shut and his teeth clenched in agony, only anguished gasps escaping him. Two fresh, deep cuts were on either side of his neck. Oops, cut a little too deep.

With his helmet ruined and his stomach open to the world, he wouldn’t be contacting anypony for help, so there wasn’t any reason to make it quick. Was it cruel? Yeah. Would it be more logical to just finish him off now? Probably, but you don’t get a reputation like mine acting logically, and preserving it has gotten me farther than I would have ever thought possible. Fear is an excellent bargaining tool. Besides, everypony could do with a little lesson in suffering.

Glancing around the hallway, I could see the fruit of my work wasn’t exactly subtle. The walls and ceiling surrounding Bits had all been coated in a fine mist of blood, and the whimpering form of the disemboweled Gray continued to leak a large crimson pool. It wouldn’t be long before this was discovered, I had to get moving. Turning from the slaughtered pegasi, I began to make my way toward the rest of the ship.

The sodden clearing of Gray’s throat made me pause, “Why… are you… doing this? What… do you want?” he asked pitifully.

I thought about telling him, as I did with everypony that asked that question. Maybe he’d understand, and his mind would be more at ease if he knew the true meaning behind my slaughter; that a final, selfish goal lie at the end of this bloody path. A small pang of remorse touched my heart, but it paled in comparison to all the regret I was forced to carry with me. Perhaps, one day, I might find the right one to talk to, but not today.

“You know,” I began, “they say that, in death, all of life’s questions are answered.”

He stared back at me, pain and confusion in his gaze.

“So why should I waste my breath?” I finished.

“You’ll never… get it,” he gasped, “If you think… you can beat us… on our… own turf… you must be insane.”

“No,” I responded quietly, “I’m a pirate.”

Yo ho ho, Koe sang merrily.

The warship gently swayed in her ascent, and the walls and floors hummed with the powerful engines rocketing us toward the cloud layer. I moved through the labyrinth of dimly lit halls, my hooves passing over the steel floors with a metallic whisper. Staying quiet has long been a skill of mine, one I’ve honed through necessity. It’s impossible to survive long if you’re not either in a group, or know just how to avoid them. A loner doesn’t make it very far charging ahead into danger, it’s far more beneficial to distance oneself from their opponents, and only strike when absolutely necessary. That being said...

I really don’t want to have to say it, Koe stated, frustration pervading his words.

Say what? I thought back.

Ok, listen up. Number one, you do know that that little trick of ours doesn’t heal you, right? Those broken bones are still very real, and they’re gonna keep doing damage the longer you’re on them. Second, if the homicidal voice in your head needs to tell you, ‘Hey, maybe rushing into battle against an entire warship full of trained soldiers with half your limbs crushed is a bad fucking idea,’ then you have some issues that even I don’t want to have to deal with.

Valid points, I thought back.

That’s it, are you fucking with me? Koe asked in disbelief. What, exactly, do you think’s gonna happen when someone discovers that little butcher shop you just opened up back there? How can you possibly be so thick about this? This whole boats about to be on your ass, it’s just a matter of time.

That’s exactly the point, I snapped. Time, we don’t fucking have it. Derecho needs to be dead and we need to be off this boat before it reaches the cloud layer. Otherwise, we’re gonna have one of those lightning rods blowing us out of the sky.

Oh yeah, the grand escape, I am so looking forward to that part of the plan.

It should work, I thought with as much confidence as I could.

Should. Yep, can’t wait.

I rolled my eyes and asked, Just keep a look out, ok? before turning my concentration back to the task at hoof. At the end of the hall before me, I could make out the sliding doors of a lift. If I remembered the layout correctly, the brig was set right alongside cargo, engineering and munitions on the lowest deck, with servicepony quarters on the second and third, officer’s on the fourth, various operations on the fifth through eighth, and the bridge set above the flight deck up top.

I crept down the hall, keeping my ears perked. A crossroad of two paths formed just before the lift, giving me pause and directing my attention toward Koe. Anything?

The voice paused before answering, I got nothing.

I sighed, Let’s hope it stays that way.

I crept closer to the sliding doors, pressing my hoof against the button labelled with an up arrow immediately next to it. With a thunk and a whir, I heard the elevator set in motion, the car beginning its descent down to me.

Hold up, boss, Koe said, I’ve got two headed this way, left hallway.

Shit, I thought back. How long?

Maybe thirty seconds, Koe responded.

Keep tracking them. I scanned my eyes around the hall, desperately looking for a place I could hide. The right hall seemed to have several doors nestled in small alcoves. I worked the handles on several, finding them locked tight, and me without a single bobby-pin. Each entrance was slightly recessed, so I stood on my hind legs, and pressed my back against the cool steel door behind me, trying to lie as flush with the surface as possible.

Muffled voices soon became audible from the adjacent hallway. Soon enough, the mare Violet and another armored EIW pegasus rounded the corner and stalked toward me.

“... believe he actually wanted to get the whole ship together just to watch him and my sister duke it out. I swear, I’m thinking real hard about kicking that egotistical shit right the hell out of active duty before he gets somepony killed,” Violet said to her fellow soldier.

“You know his background, ma’am,” the other mare stated. “Never had to work a single damn day his whole life, and now he wants to play soldier. Gets some training, a couple deployments, a decent kill count going, and you’ve got one hell of a shit-head stew brewing. He’s like the General, but with something to prove.”

“That sounds like a powder-keg just waiting to get set off,” Violet responded.

The pair reached the crossroads, and I begged that they would turn toward detention. Sure, they’d discover the mess I made, but there was still some time before they’d arrive. If I was correct, I’d be done and gone before they even got the word out.

They paused at the divergent path, looking both ways, and staying silent. I held my breath; even though I should've been just out of range of their Eyes Forward Sparkle threat radars, it didn’t make me any less tense. After a few nerve-wracking seconds, Violet spoke. “Well, I better go check in with Bits and Gray. That psycho made them pretty upset.” She shook her head a bit, “It’s like he knew exactly what to say to rile them up, same with the General.” She paused again, looking like she was trying to find the right words, “What do you think we’re up against here, Clover? Are we prepared to take this guy on?”

Clover let out a small laugh, “Prepared? Forgive my candor, but listen to yourself, ma’am. We’re on one of the most highly advanced and defensible constructs in the Enclave arsenal. Also, let’s not forget that we’ve got the most badass group of fliers in Equestria onboard. If that piece of shit even thinks about making a move against us, he’ll have a whole army shoved down his throat.”

“You’re probably right,” Violet admitted, her voice sounding slightly more relieved. “Well, get back to the barracks, you drew the long straw.”

“Happy to win again, ma’am,” the other mare teased, before turning and marching back the way they’d come.

Violet stared after Clover for a second, before facing the hallway leading toward the brig. I gave a silent whoop of joy as I quietly removed myself from the hiding spot, and crept back toward the lift. My luck must have been getting better as the doors quietly slid open just as I moved into the light.

Ding, going up, Koe stated joyfully.

DING! “GOING UP!” A computerized voice loudly echoed.

The heavy weight of dread settled in my stomach as I spun around, and saw Violet glaring directly at me from the other end of the hallway. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I shouted.

“Code eight-two-four, I repeat, code eight-two-four,” the mare cried as she galloped back toward me. “We have an escaped prisoner on the detention level, this is not a drill!”

I turned back toward the open lift and dove through the entrance, frantically slamming my hoof against the close door button. “Come on, come on, come on you piece of shit, CLOSE!” I shouted, continuing to pound the button into submission. The armored mare dove forward, extended her wings, and began gliding rapidly toward me. The thin metal doors slowly began to close as she drew nearer. Finally, with a hiss, the doors sealed shut, only to be dented in by the resounding slam of the metal pegasus crashing into it.

I smashed my hoof against the button labelled five, and felt the lift gently begin its ascent. Several large breaths escaped me as I tried to calm the thundering in my chest. Ok, I thought to myself, this might have just gotten a bit more complicated.

Oh, you think so? Koe answered. I’m sure everypony on board is gonna be totally understanding, once you explain that we’re just here to kill the good General. Who could possibly take that the wrong way?

Could really do without the attitude, I snapped back.

What attitude? he asked innocently. Everythings been going so fucking swimmingly so far.

I was about to respond, when the elevator ground to a halt with a screech of metal. The lights within flickered before going dark, and the subtle glow of red emergencies sprang to life, casting the entire interior in a crimson shroud. A slam erupted from the roof, before the emergency hatch flew away, showing Violet standing atop the car.

“End of the line,” the armored mare barked, levelling her twin plasma rifles at me.

“Um… parley?” I asked lamely.

“What?” she responded.

“Parley, it’s sort of a pira… naval thing,” I said. “I’d like to meet with your-”

“I fucking know what parley means,” she spat. “The part that confuses me is why you’re saying it. You had your chance to talk to the General, and now I’m marching you right back to detention.”

“You might wanna bring a mop,” I stated flatly, “things got a bit… messy with your buddies.”

Suddenly, she leapt down into the car, charged forward, and slammed me against the wall. One of her front legs pressed against my throat, and lifted me off the ground. “What. Did. You. Do?” she asked, punctuating every word with a compression of my neck.

“You’re... surprised?” I choked. “Well… first I… made the… *cough*,” my vision started to cloud, and my eyes rolled toward the back of my head. Wet choking sounds escaped me as a black void crept closer. Staring back at Violet, it was becoming painfully obvious that she wasn’t actually expecting me to finish telling her what happened. My vision began to darken as unconsciousness fought to take hold. I cried out as loud as my compressed throat would allow, shaking off the sensation as well as I could, before levelling my gaze at Violet. “Wow… Gray said… you liked… it rough… but I had… no idea.”

She gave a slight twitch in anger, before grasping me with both hooves, and heaving me across the elevator car. I slammed into the opposing wall, exacerbating every wound I’d already received. But hey, at least I could breathe, and now she was near enough for me to get up close and personal.

I pulled the pen knife out of the tangles of my mane and let the sheath fall to the floor. I quickly dropped myself as twin beams of green light sizzled overhead, leaving dark scorches in the wall of the lift. We didn’t have a lot of room, but there was enough for her to maneuver the saddle any which way she wanted. Coupled with her power-armor enhanced strength, things weren’t looking too rosy for me.

From my prone position, I desperately searched the car for an advantage. The red of the emergencies cast deep shadows, hiding much of the interior from view. However, Violet hadn’t moved far since joining me, she was almost right underneath the open hatch.

With a shout, I leapt toward the armored pegasus, slashing my knife across her faceplate. It caught the respirator, just like Bits’ from earlier, and caused a jet of mist to expel from her helmet. The smoke swiftly filled the car, causing us to vanish from each other’s view. With her position in mind, I leapt once more, felt myself land on her back, and scrambled up toward the hatch.

My front legs felt sluggish and unresponsive as I fought to escape the car, until I was finally able to flip onto the roof and land on my back. “What the hell is-” I began as I stared at my legs, before I heard Koe clear his 'throat.' “Oh, right,” I lamented as I glanced at my broken shoulders.

The elevator shaft was almost completely dark, save for a beam of dim red light pouring from the open hatch. I looked around, and spied how Violet had managed to stop the car. An emergency crow bar had been shoved into the gears connecting the elevator to the guide rails. Turning my head around, I saw the counterweight in a smaller shaft adjacent to ours, still attached to the thick steel cable connecting it to the lift.

An idea started to form in my head, but my crushed shoulders were going to make it difficult. Even so, I moved as quickly as I could toward the wedged crow bar, and began slamming my rear hooves against it. The steel creaked and groaned with each buck, but remained intact.

Before I could make any progress, a dark shape darted out of the elevator. Looking up, I could see Violet hovering just above me. Her helmet was gone, revealing a deep purple mare. Her mane was slightly lighter, and was tied back into a long braid running along the length of her back.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared, not from fear, but from a sense of voracious loss. In the dimness of the shaft, she looked almost identical to… I shook the memory from my mind, before the heart-wrenching agony of the thought overtook me.

“You’re dead,” she stated simply, malice dripping from every word.

Then she dived toward me, hooves extended, and attempted to crush me against the wall. I smiled, before diving off the right side of the roof, and grasping desperately to the edge of the car. The sound of screeching metal filled the air as Violet slammed into lift, and a shower of sparks followed the crow bar and gear assembly toppling off the edge, and disappearing into the darkness below. With a crash, the elevator pulled free from the guide rails.

I whooped in success; the dumb mare had played her part perfectly. The car swung freely, and a groan sounded from the steel cable as it became the only thing holding us aloft. My joy was swiftly extinguished as Violet reappeared at the edge of the car. She placed a hoof on mine, and began to slowly compress it.

“Bye bye,” she whispered as my hoof fell from the car, leaving only one unresponsive leg holding me up. I took a deep breath as I looked down, and then let go.

The weightless feeling of freefall took me, right before I slammed into the hard concrete of the counterweight. My breath expelled from my lungs in one big gasp as a tingling sensation marked feeling returning to my broken limbs. I forced myself to my hooves and glared back at the lift.

A low snarl escaped Violet as our eyes met. “That all you got, bitch?” I taunted, “Can’t imagine why Gray never had the guts to make a move on you.” I put a hoof under my chin in thought, “Actually, I guess it does make sense. Once I was done with him, he didn’t have much left in the whole guts department.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” she shouted as she leapt from the car, extended her wings, and lowered herself until she was level with me.

“Oh come on,” I whined, “I never even knew my mother. Why does everypony think that I-” she shot me. The block beneath me may have been heavy, but it wasn’t very large, giving me precious little space to maneuver, and only empty air lay on either side. I watched the green bolt lance through my broken shoulder, leaving a smoking hole, and immediately assaulting my mind with pain.

TAKE CARE OF THIS! I cried at Koe.

I’ll do what I can, he responded, genuine worry touching his voice, but try not to get hit like that again. There’s two of us in here, you know, and I do enjoy not being attached to a puddle of jelly.

The intense burn of our numbing trick began to lap at the wound, but there wasn’t time to let it run its course. Violet was lining up for another shot, and both rifles were warming in anticipation.

I threw my legs up in surrender. “Ok, you got me. I give up.”

She backed up a few feet, a look of shock replacing her earlier rage. “What?!” she shouted.

“What do you mean, what?” I asked. “I give up, surrender, wave the white flag, lay down my arms.” The look I adopted was one of subjection, and I hoped it was convincing. “You win.”

“And you think I’m just gonna accept that?! After what you did?!” she shouted.

“Do I not also deserve due-process?” I asked, keeping my hooves up, but not yet dropping the knife. “I thought the Enclave was supposed to be the final shining example of civilization, the last bastion of law and order.” I moved closer to the edge of the platform, keeping myself looking as helpless as possible. “But, if that’s no longer the case, then shoot me. Shoot me and prove you’re just a group of well-armed gangers, no different from the scum murdering, raping, and-”

Don’t you dare say pillaging, Koe snapped.

“-stealing, down on the surface.”

My words hit home. She was obviously a soldier through and through, an idealist if I've ever met one. She had something I would never truly understand, faith in her duty, and that whatever was ordered of her was always for the greater good. But I had also just royally fucked with her life. It doesn't matter how disciplined or well-trained you are, when someone hurts the ponies you care about most, rationality goes right out the window. That was something I could definitely understand.

There was that sense of duty pulling from one side, and her chance at revenge from the other. It was definitely up in the air, was she going to make the smart, long term choice, or the pleasure-inducing, short term one? The question was soon answered as she moved cautiously toward me, pulling a pair of hoofcuffs from… somewhere.

“You’re gonna burn in Thunderhead,” she whispered menacingly, moving exactly where I wanted her.

“Oh, I’m sure,” I stated, keeping my voice level. Then, I let a huge grin spread across my face, “but not before you.”

She stopped, her expression changing to confusion, before she looked up and saw she was right underneath the swinging elevator car.

“Psyche, bitch,” I shouted before turning, and slashing my knife across the cable connected to the counterweight. With no guide rails to support it, the car shrieked before the cable whipped past me, trailing up the shaft, and the huge steel box came crashing down on the unsuspecting pegasus. A cry of surprise left her, but was swiftly silenced from the deafening roar of the lift freefalling down the shaft. The entire space shook violently as it slammed into the bottom level.

“That’s right!” I shouted, elation flooding my voice. “You wanna grab this bull by the horns? You better be ready for a ri-” another shriek of metal echoed throughout the space. I stared at the sides of the counterweight, and saw it’s own rusted guide rails straining to keep us aloft. Without the cable, it wasn’t going to be holding for long.

“Uh oh,” I whispered as the first side tore free of its rail.

Didn’t quite think this through, did ya? Koe asked annoyingly.

Shut the fuck up Ko- the opposite side broke, and the platform began its own descent toward the bottom of the shaft. The air whipped my mane around, blinding me from the rapidly approaching floor, as I grasped onto the concrete with the remaining reserves of strength I had.

With a slam, we landed. The concrete beneath me shattered, my chest felt like it exploded, and I was thrown free from the broken counterweight. I felt myself bounce off the wall, then the top of the ruined elevator, and finally came to rest in a warm, sticky pool.

Everything was black, either from my injuries or lack of light. Either way, the pain slowly encroaching on me was evidence enough that I wasn’t dead, surprisingly. “Hoo boy,” I called, relieved to hear my voice still worked. I mean, what kind of a world would this be if I just stopped talking? A much darker one, I assure you.

Still alive, then? Koe asked.

You tell me, I snapped before looking around. Objects in the darkness moved, so at least I wasn’t completely blind. I picked myself up off the floor, woo not crippled either, and felt the warm liquid trail off my back. I recognized the scent before my eyes adjusted, I’d know that metallic-smelling vile anywhere. As objects became more detailed, I saw a still form, half-pinned under the lift, was the source of the blood.

Violet’s lower half was flattened beneath the elevator, but sodden gasps made it clear she, too, wasn’t quite dead yet. The thin, black steel of her Enclave power armor had flattened like a tin can beneath the car.

“That was some trip, huh?” I asked joyfully.

She craned her neck toward me, agony and rage burning in her gaze.

“And look at you,” I continued. “Don’t get me wrong, you fought well, and maybe you could’ve taken me on, if you were half the mare you used to be.” I flashed a grin.

She spat up a mouthful of blood in response.

“Oh come on, that was funny,” I complained. “Haven’t you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?” In demonstration, I gave my cackle a whirl, and was thrilled when it rang out loud and true.

“Go… to… hell,” she gasped quietly.

“Already there, sweetheart,” I stated seriously, before turning from the dying mare. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have a parley with the good General.”

As I stared around the shaft, I had a thought. “How the fuck am I gonna get back up there?” I asked to no one in particular.

Ahem, Koe said, and I felt my sight directed toward one of the walls. Right beside an old “Maintenance Only” sign was a ladder trailing all the way up to the top of the shaft.

My heart sank, You’ve gotta be fucking with me.

He wasn’t.

We’d been forced to stop several times on our way up the shaft, clinging to the rungs as we tried to numb the ever-worrying amount of wounds I was collecting. However, each round of it yielded fewer and fewer results. I was running out of time.

It was slow going, but with the ship being alerted to my escape, we’d slowed our ascent somewhat. I couldn’t hear any alarms or the sound of mobilizing troops, so word must only have spread to those who already knew I was here.

Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I’m not an idiot. Derecho didn’t want anypony but him and those special, gold-striped pegasi knowing I was onboard. Luckily, that just played to my advantage.

After what seemed an eternity of neverending ladder, agonized screams, and mocking remarks from Koe, we reached the level marked with a large red five beside the lift doors.

Wait a minute, Koe piped in, I thought the officer’s quarters were on the fourth floor?

They are, I thought back, but do you really think that little shit is just gonna let me stroll on through to his room unhindered? He’s probably got an entire battalion strolling through these halls. We’ve gotta find a place where we can get the drop on him.

Literally, in this case, Koe replied, amusement in his voice.

I rolled my eye, before scanning it along the outside of the door. Then I spied exactly what I was looking for, a ventilation shaft set right below the fifth floor. I pulled the knife back out of my mane and placed the tip inside one of the screws holding the panel closed, before working my tongue to turn the blade. The screw squeaked as it slowly loosened.

Um, Koe interrupted again, what the fuck are you doing?

Duh, I responded, Using my knife to loosen the screws so I can… Oh. I flushed in embarrassment, seeing what Koe was getting at. Then, I slashed the humming black blade across each screw, severing them, and toppling the hatch into the darkness below.

It’s called common sense, dipshit.

Fuck you.

I crawled into the open shaft and began the slow journey through its maze-like corridors. Each room had a roof-mounted grate, allowing me to peer down at the inhabitants of each. Most were empty, the officers were probably off assuaging the concerns of the recruits. I’d heard enough small-talk from my short time here to know what kind of soldiers I was actually up against. Nothing to be concerned about on their own, but if you armed enough monkeys with plasma rifles and pointed them in the same direction, they’d hit something eventually.

Derecho wasn’t far. At least, if the pairs of gold-striped pegasi only patrolling this particular area of the ship was any indication. You’d think that pegasi would be the one race of ponies that would know to also look up for potential threats, but maybe my luck was finally turning around.

I worriedly looked all around me for a hail of gunfire, or a laser grid that would come sailing through to slice me to pieces, or a jet of dragon fire filling the entire ventilation system, but all was quiet. It’s not paranoia if that’s the sort of shit that you have to put up with.

I was about to admit how lost I actually was when I found him. Or, rather, I was pretty sure I found his quarters. Whilst every other room was equipped with the standard sliding metal doors found throughout Equestria, this was probably the first time I’d ever seen big, wooden, double doors in their place. The wood was ornately decorated with swirling imagery and flowers, the knobs glimmered with a golden sheen, and there were even a pair of knockers molded into the shape of griffin heads. A pair of those special pegasi were stationed outside.

He’s not serious, Koe stated, disbelief he usually reserved for my own stupidity coloring his voice.

Well, I guess if you’re going to act like a pompous douche, you may as well go all the way, I answered.

I could make out a beam of light coming from the room’s vent just in front of me. As I crept closer, the sound of a mare speaking resonated from below.

“Don’t worry sir, I’m sure the EIW are doing everything in their power to try and recapture-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what they’re trying to do, you cunts!” Derecho shrieked. “I want some Goddess-damned results! I want that crazy motherfucker’s head on my desk this fucking second!”

Gee, Koe commented, everypony seems to think you’ve got a thing for-

I know, I interrupted.

I peered down through the vent, and found an incredibly lavish room. The metal floor was covered in expensive, ornate rugs. The furniture was all dark, heavy wood, and was comprised of two different wardrobes, a large desk cluttered with paper, and a dresser topped with an enormous mirror. Hanging from the walls were portraits of several proud, uniformed pegasi, the largest of which depicted Derecho himself. A green mare and a gold one both lay on an enormous, four-poster bed. It was adorned with luxurious looking purple blankets, piles of plush pillows, and a burgundy drape dangling around it. The two pegasi were both stripped of their uniforms, laying on their sides with a hoof on their flanks, and were beckoning to the General.

The little pegasus was nervously pacing back and forth, his mane was frazzled, and large wet stains were plastered under his front legs. His eyes were wide in panic, and his breathing came in short gasps.

Holy shit, Koe piped in, barely concealed laughter in his tone, he’s about to piss his pants.

"Sir, if I may," the golden one piped in, "perhaps if we allowed some of the patrols on this level to join the search, they'd be able to locate Stab more easily."

"Oh, and leave myself defenseless?!" he screamed in response. "What are you thinking, you dumb fucking cow?!"

“Please, sir,” the green mare continued, “this isn’t good for you. Come over here and let us help you relax.”

He raised a hoof, as if he were going to snap at the mares, but quickly adopted a resigned expression and lowered it back to the ground. “Fine,” he said curtly, “but I’m getting cleaned up first.” He turned from the pair, and approached another ornate door on the opposite side of the room. “Take care of each other if you want, I’m not in the mood for foreplay,” he finished before opening the door and slamming it shut behind him.

What a romantic, Koe said sarcastically.

The two mares quickly lost their seductive expressions, and replaced them with resigned frustration. “I can’t believe him,” the golden mare sighed.

“He’s stressed,” the green one responded, “and can you blame him?”

“Yeah, cause it’s only when he’s stressed that he treats us like garbage,” the other mare said sarcastically. “Do you think Lavender was right?”

“You mean Lieutenant Lavender,” the other pegasus answered. “Keep in mind, Golden, he’s the only reason we’re captains. If putting up with his tantrums and letting him stick that little prick in us is the price, then I’ll gladly keep paying it.”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Mint?” Golden asked. “What the fuck happened to the proud, no-nonsense, going to shake the military to its core soldier I joined up with?”

“She wised the fuck up and learned how to work the system,” Mint spat, turning from the other mare. “If we ever want to change anything, we can’t do it without rank. Once we get promoted far enough, then we'll be able to make a difference, make sure nopony has to go through the same shit we've had to. Can Lavender say the same?”

“The only thing that we've changed is how often we open our legs, Mint,” the golden Captain responded huffily.

“Fuck you.”

Golly, Koe said, that sounds like a happy relationship.

I ignored him as I assessed the situation, and tried to formulate my strategy. I needed to keep this quiet with those guards outside the door, and the mares below me were definitely going to complicate things. Sure, they might not be Derecho’s biggest fans, but I still highly doubted they’d work with me willingly.

It seemed like the bed was positioned right below me. If I did this right, they wouldn’t have time to warn anypony and, maybe, they might prove useful.

I ran through some quick scenarios in my head, before I removed the black knife from my mane, and slowly slid it across the bolts holding the vent closed. The metal parted with a whisper, before the first corner fell free. A small creak sounded, but nothing more.

The two Captains were both looking away from each other, toward opposite ends of the room. I needed to move quickly before one of them decided to look up. I crawled toward the next bolt and repeated the motion, then once more on the third. With both my front hooves latched onto the vent, my shoulders cried out against the strain. It was times like these that I felt an incredible sense of loss as I looked up at the shard of jagged horn jutting out of my head. Shaking off the feeling, I lined the metal panel up with the green mare, before cutting the final bolt and allowing the cover to topple down. It tumbled once in the air before an edge smacked right into the unaware pegasus’ head, knocking her out cold. My luck held out as the panel fell to the side, and landed between the two with a soft plop.

Noticing the motion, the golden mare began to turn, right before I leapt from my perch and landed right over her prostrate form. A look of terror erupted on her face as she opened her mouth to scream, but my backhoof landed first, cutting off her cry. Then, I lowered the blade to her neck, making sure it was in plain view when she regained her composure. She fell deathly silent as her eyes nervously switched back and forth between my face and the knife.

“Hi there,” I hissed.

“H-h-h,” she whispered, unable to form a coherent response.

“Don’t talk,” I continued, “and don’t scream. Your friend there can still wake up, but I’ll make sure that neither of you ever do if you make a single fucking sound, understand?”

She jerked her head in affirmation, “W-w-what do you want?” she gasped quietly.

“Do exactly as I say, and you’ll both walk out of here.”

Golden pondered that for a second, looking nervously between me and her friend, "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," I stated simply, "but it may be in your best interests to consider your other options." She looked uncertain, but cautiously gave another shaky nod.

“Good,” I said. “Go over to the door, and tell the guards that the General wants a little more privacy.”

She said nothing this time, but removed herself from the bed once I lifted the knife. She trotted slowly to the door, and I held my breath. I hoped that I’d picked the right one, if there was a right choice, and that this pegasus genuinely did care more about her friend than her duty. As a precaution, I rested the blade against Mint’s throat when Golden turned back toward us.

She took a deep breath before opening the door a crack. “Excuse me,” she said calmly, “the General is feeling a little stressed, and he really likes to… let loose when he gets like this. Do you think you two could give us a bit more privacy? Things are about to get a little noisy in here.”

“Of course, ma’am,” a buck's voice stated from outside, before the sound of heavy metal hooves rang out as the pair left to join the others patrolling the hallway.

Golden sighed. “Was that all?” she asked, a small bit of confidence returning to her voice.

“That was perfect,” I whispered, before I leapt toward the mare, turned around, and delivered an applebuck to the side of her head. Her eyes rolled toward the top of her skull as she toppled over, but the subtle rise of her chest was enough to show she was just unconscious.

Finally, Koe cried, these are the two I was telling you about earlier. He paused for a second before continuing, Say, I bet the General likes long showers. We’ve probably got some time if you want to-

Not happening, I snapped.

Oh come on, he whined, we never do what I want to do.

Gee, I fucking wonder why, I responded sarcastically, It’s not happening, and you know it.

You’re getting soft in your old age, he said.

I’ve done a lot of fucked up things, most of it at your behest you son of a bitch, but you know that's a line I won’t cross.

Oh boo hoo hoo, he continued, you get a dick shoved up your ass for a few years and suddenly you’re mister sensitive to everpony's feelings? News flash, hypocrite, I'm certain that trail of corpses you left on the way here weren't too enthused about getting fucked with steel. What, exactly, is the difference here? Or are you honestly going to try and justify vicious murder over a little harmless unconscious loving? He paused for a breath, If you’re not gonna fuck them, then can we at least just kill them? They’re gonna be a liability, and it has been a whole ten minutes since the last one. I'm sure you're itching to get that blade wet again.

I was prepared to rip Koe a new one, but the sound of water turning off followed a cloud of steam pouring from beneath the bathroom door. In a panic, I tossed the golden captain on the bed, leapt onto it myself, and yanked the burgundy curtain closed around us.

I finished in the knick of time as the door to the bathroom opened, and I watched the silhouette of Derecho pass by.

“You know what, ladies,” he called, sounding calmer than before. “I feel much better now, so I’ve changed my mind. Fire up that vacuum mouth of yours, Mint Leaf, I feel in the mood for one of your famous blow-” he pulled the curtain aside, spied the unconscious mares, and me grinning like a mad-buck between them.

“Hello, little king,” I hissed, before I leapt forward, shoved him onto his back, and towered above him. His eyes grew wide with easily twice the terror Golden had shown, and his breathing came rapid fire from his lips.

“H-H-HEL-” he tried to cry, before I socked him across the face.

“Don’t bother,” I said calmly, “your guards felt that we should have a bit of privacy. Good thing too, because this’ll be a night that you won't soon forget, I can promise you that.”

“W-w-what do you want from me?” he gasped. “Money? I can make you richer than you’ve ever imagined. Mares? Take whoever you want. You want those two? They’re yours.”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“Power?!” he cried, ignoring my command. “When we get back to Thunderhead, I’ll have more sway than anypony you’ll ever meet. I can get you whatever you want.” His words came faster and faster in his panic, before devolving into mindless babbling. “Please,” he began to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I’ll give you anything, just don’t kill me.”

“I already told you what I want,” I whispered calmly as I let the knife clatter to the floor, “I want to rip out your throat.” I let my eye grow wide and manic, and continued to let my grin burn itself into his memory. The last thing he’d ever see.

His whole body was shaking now, and his breath caught in his throat. A sour smell reached my nostrils, and a warm liquid began surrounding my hooves. Looking down, I found that Koe’s earlier prediction was spot on as the little General pissed himself in terror.

Looking back at him, my smile only widened, “Well, that’s embarrassing. I know I’d never want to meet my creator after having just pissed myself. Aw well, on that note-” I lowered my head toward him, parted my mouth, and laid my teeth across his trembling throat, “we depart.”

“M-M-MOMMY!” Derecho shrieked as his sobs reached a crescendo. The cries vibrated against my teeth, and I could feel his pulse jumping to higher and higher speeds.

Bon appetite, Koe commented joyfully.

With that, I slowly bit down. The soft flesh of his throat provided a slight resistance, before a gush of hot, metallic blood burst forth, coating my mouth and tongue in his gore. His plaintive cries for his mother were drowned in a wet gurgling as my teeth came together, and the wriggling organ fell into my mouth.

Rising back up, the final strands of flesh tore themselves free, and I watched Derecho die. His eyes were wide, and the pupils had shrunk down to pinpricks. The open gash across his throat continued to spurt crimson jets into the air, some landing across his deathmask. The gurgles continued for several seconds, before his pupils rolled upward, and a final, sodden breath escaped his lips.

I spat the remains of his throat on the floor and wiped a hoof across my tongue, trying to remove as much of the vile taste from my mouth as possible. “I hate doing that,” I whined.

Oh quit being such a baby, Koe said, it's not like you haven't done it before, and besides, it makes for one hell of a horror story. The Enclave’ll be talking about this one for years.

Only if we escape, I commented. With that in mind, I began ripping up the expensive carpets, desperately trying to find my way out. After tossing the final rug onto the bed, a small hatch appeared. I twisted the wheel-lock and yanked the round cover open. Several feet down was a small, round platform, and up and down arrows were on a control panel nearby. I dived into the hatch, pulled it closed over me, and smashed my hoof against the downward arrow. The small emergency lift rapidly descended.

Wouldn’t using this thing have made this a fuck-ton easier? Koe asked.

I shook my head, If the info our contact gave us was accurate, this lift is only used in emergencies, and can’t be called from anywhere aside from the General’s private quarters.

That's stupid, he responded, so, you really think this is gonna work?

Honestly, I don’t have a clue, I lamented. I’ve never heard of anypony using one of these Tartarus jumper things, and I highly doubt it’s a system that they test regularly.

Well, either way, it’ll be one hell of show.

I sighed, Shut the fuck up, Koe.

Finally, the round platform descended into a large room. From the schematics I’d been shown, this was right at the bottom of the Eclipse’s lower siege platform. Either side was lined with teardrop shaped metal pods, each sporting a small door, but without any windows. I approached one, and began looking it over for a way inside.

Tartarus jumpers, or TJ's for short, had primarily been used by non-pegasi during the war. They were designed for rapid deployment of troops and, in emergencies, escape from the larger classes of cloudship. Effectively, it was a casing of twenty-five centimeter thick armor plating, equipped with slowed descension talismans, and designed to withstand drops from over five-thousand meters. However, even in their prime, the survival rate for ponies inside was only about seventy-five percent.

I found a covered control panel near the door, and slid it open. A screen immediately sprang to life, and it displayed the message, “Input Authorization Code.”

I stared blankly at the screen. “Shit,” I whispered.

What, exactly, do you mean by shit? Koe asked. Didn’t that fuck of a contact give you one of those?

He failed to mention it.

Well, that’s just super, Koe spat, Looks like little Venture gets fucked over again. Probably wanted to cover his tracks, and killing off the hitpony sounds like a pretty important loose end to tie up.

Shut up.

What? I know it’s exactly what I would’ve done, he was smart. A lot fucking smarter than-

“SHUT THE FUCK UP KOE!” I shouted before slamming my hooves against the sealed pod. “NO, NO, NO, N-”, a door slid open behind me.

The priming of a plasma rifle cut the silence, and I felt its barrel press into my back. “Turn around,” a mare’s voice spoke softly.

Slowly, I turned, and was met with a ghost. I nearly leapt from my skin as Violet stood behind me, completely whole, and keeping a steady grip on her rifle. Then, as I peered closer, I began to make out a few differences. Her mane was shaved near her scalp, and her colorings were the inverse of Violet’s, with a lighter purple coat, and dark purple stubble along her head. Her armor was also missing the ornate gold-striping of those other pegasi, she was just a normal soldier.

We stood like that for a while, each second seemed to take hours to pass, but I kept my face neutral and my breathing calm. The armored mare scanned me up and down, taking in every detail of my bloody visage. Finally, after a torturous eternity, she spoke.

“Is he dead?” she asked simply.

I was about to ask who, but figured it was a stupid question. Who else could she possibly be talking about? I nodded.

“And the Captains?” she continued.

“Unconscious, but alive,” I stated simply.

She nodded, looking contemplative. If that decision got me out of this alive, I’d be rubbing it in Koe’s face from here till judgement day, the prick deserved it.

As she stood there, he decided to pipe in, Hey, that’s the other one I was telling you about.

The one with the backbone?

That’s the one.

Then it all started to make sense. It’d been a challenge matching each of Koe’s physical descriptions to the personnel files our contact had given us, but we’d obviously pulled it off during the interrogation. Otherwise, I don't think we would've gotten quite the reaction we did. Getting inside somepony's head is an art more than a science. It requires keen observation, and a wanton disregard for more or less anything someone could hold dear. Derecho had been easy, it didn't take a genius to see the inexperienced little brat was terrified of things spinning out of his control. Letting him think I could read minds was an excellent way of playing on that fear. Most of the ponies in that room probably also thought I had some weird, demonic powers to be able to know everything I did. Although, I suppose that isn't an entirely unfounded theory. I didn't even know where Koe's abilities came from.

I distinctly remembered this mare's file. With the way he'd treated her, and after seeing the sheer staggering amount of unanswered reports that she'd filed against him, this pony had every reason to hate Derecho. There was also the little fact of her having served alongside the two Captains, perhaps they’d been friends once, and that’s why I wasn’t a pile of green goo on the floor right now.

Not-Violet seemed to come to a decision as she marched forward, shoved past me, and approached the pod. She pressed a few keys on the panel, and the display changed to, “Access Granted.” With a hiss, the door opened, and revealed a simple seat and harness inside.

I almost stepped into the pod, before the mare shoved me back and levelled the rifle at my head.

“If I ever see you again, I’m bringing you down,” she stated flatly. From her emotionless tone, I could tell that it wasn’t a threat, but a promise. I know, I’ve used it many times before.

I nodded slowly in response, and she moved aside. As I settled in the seat, several status lights blinked to life, and the hum of a talisman starting up filled the air. The mare gave me one final look, before she pressed another key on the display, and the door sealed shut. A thunk sounded from below me, before the entire pod violently shook, and then dropped.

Even without sight, I could feel the free falling sensation taking hold. The pod shook this way and that, buffeted by the intense winds. I sealed my eyes shut, hoping that we were still at a low enough altitude to not be targeted by the lighting rods.

After a few seconds, the concern was assuaged, but only to be replaced by another. The humming of the slowed descent talisman rose to a fevered pitch as I fell, until a loud bang sounded from the outside. Immediately, I could feel our speed double, plunging us in complete freefall to the surface below.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I whispered to myself, true terror beginning to edge into my heart.

Oh, come on, Koe chimed in, don’t tell me you’re afraid of flying?

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up,” I chanted, trying to keep my thoughts off the fact that several tons of steel was plunging toward the surface with no hope of a safe landing. I almost even considered praying, but figured there were plenty of other useless things I could also do.

Time almost seemed to slow for a bit, and I knew we were just moments from landing. I closed my eyes tighter, and waited for the end.

The resulting crash was louder than anything I’d ever been forced to endure. The harness surrounding me jostled and jolted, throwing me around the pod until it finally tore free. We were sliding along the ground, until the metal death trap began spinning end over end. I was thrown around the small space, slamming into the sides as we tumbled. The reinforced walls dented in with every impact, and the shriek of metal followed the door flying away.

Seconds later, we smashed into the ground a final time, and came to a halt. My breath was coming in panicked gasps, and my heart felt as if it were about to pull free from my chest.

But we made it.

Elation flooded every corner of my body as I whooped for joy, and pulled myself out of the open door. Turning back, I saw a gouged path of sand trailing down from the top of a nearby mesa, where I must have initially hit the ground. The slide down the mountainside may have been unpleasant, but it saved my life. Looking around, I could see we were still in the Marejave and, judging by the surroundings, only a short ways from where I was supposed to meet my contact.

Sparing a glance upward, I spied the Eclipse as a black mark against the gray clouds. It hadn’t halted its ascent and, soon, it disappeared from view.

“Looks like I’ve finally got a bit of a lucky streak going, huh?” I said aloud to Koe. “What do you have to say about that?”

Five.

“What?” I asked.

Four.

“What are you doing?”

Three.

“Stop that."

Two.

“What are you going on about, you piece of-!”

One.

My shoulders exploded in blinding pain, collapsing my front half to the sandy ground. My ribs soon followed, then the dozens of plasma burns, and, finally, the hole clear through my broken shoulder. I gasped in agony, unable to draw in enough breath to properly scream. I lay there, writhing for what seemed an eternity, before Koe spoke again.

Hooveston, we have landed.

What was I thinking, Lavender thought to herself as she moved through the Eclipse’s halls. This wasn’t just insubordination, or some little bending of policy, this was full blown treason. And for what? Some petty revenge against Derecho? Sure, he was piece of shit. Yes, nopony in their right mind would put him in command of a cleanup crew, much less an entire cloudship under normal circumstances. But did that mean he deserved to die? Or, the better question, was it worth letting one of the most dangerous criminals the Enclave had ever faced go? She wasn’t even entirely sure what drove it. Every instinct she'd developed had screamed that she was doing the wrong thing, that this action would have far worse ramifications down the road. Yet, still, she'd ignored them.

Logically, her actions didn’t make any sense either. The deed was already done, Derecho was dead, and she could’ve very easily detained the psychopath and just piled it onto his charges. Maybe it was that he’d shown her old friends mercy, letting her see that, maybe, he had some sense of morality after all. Or, it could just be that he forgot to finish them off.

But, in the end, did it really matter if there was some deeper meaning to the atrocities he'd committed, and, whatever those might be, were they even worth letting him go? What noble goal could somepony like that be striving for?

Her communicator buzzed, and the voice of Downpour broke through, “Lieutenant?”

She took a deep breath before responding, “Yes, Private, what is it?”

“Well, ma’am, most of the recruits are hanging around medical, we’re not sure what happened, but there’s a lot of ponies here, and they’re saying the General is hurt or even dead and-”

“The point, Private,” Lavender interrupted before her guilt could set in further, “please get to it.”

“Y-yes ma’am,” he stuttered, “somepony here is screaming that they need to see you ASAP.”

She felt a bit of worry course through her, “Who?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but it almost looks like your sister.”

Lavender’s heart dropped before she broke into a full gallop, shoving anypony that got in her way to the side. It can’t be true, she thought to herself, he’s mistaken, or she’s just helping out

Even though she was younger, Violet had always been the better fighter, the stronger pony. Violet had been the one that beat Lavender in every wrestling match growing up. Violet was the one who got kicked out of basic for breaking a drill-sergeant's jaw during a sparring match. Violet was the one who'd gotten accepted into the EIW right after getting booted out of the military, and made Wing Commander within her first few years of service. She was, physically, the strongest pony Lavender had ever know. Nopony could beat her, right?

As she rounded the final corner toward medical, she saw a thick crowd of uniformed ponies all buzzing about. Looks of fear and worry were prevalent among them, and their conversations were ablaze with trying finding out what had actually happened. Most of them must have been completely in the dark about Stab ever having been on board, much less what'd occurred afterwards. Lavender had only figured it out because she'd glued herself to the security terminals ever since the elevator fell, and later found an unauthorized access of the General’s emergency lift. Coupled with the unscheduled slowing of their ascension, she’d been able to put two and two together and marched right to the Tartarus jumper deployment station.

She shoved her way through the crowd, knocking over recruits and bowling over anypony that tried to get any information out of her. Once inside, she found pandemonium. Medical staff were swarming the facility. Two pegasi lay on operating tables, their EIW armor piled up nearby. One, a yellow mare, had her throat slit. The other, a black buck, had his stomach sliced open. Although horrified by the image, she breathed a sigh of relief, at least she couldn’t see Violet anywhere.

As Lavender turned, she found herself staring over the corpse of General Derecho. There are very few ponies who have ever not wished someone dead. Be it a rude supervisor, an annoying neighbor, maybe even a poorly-behaved child. It's a guilty pleasure we must allow ourselves, feeding that little psychopathic monster inside us all. Otherwise, that same little monster will eat at us, begging to be sated, until its behavior begins to spill over into our daily lives. However, it's one thing to wish somepony dead, to replay the countless horrifying ways we can make it happen in our heads, and quite another to see it actually done.

The little blue pegasus had his eyes wide open, and his mouth was plastered into a horrifying screech. The entire front side of his neck had been violently ripped off. Lavender shivered, could the buck she spoke to just minutes before really have gone through with something like this? A chilling terror struck her as she looked on, and realized the horror of what she'd done couldn't be ignored. On the table before her was no longer the snarky, spoiled General she'd known. In his place was a fellow soldier, scared and calling out for help, and she'd been complicit in making sure he never received it. The Lieutenant was also able to answer one her earlier questions, nopony deserved this.

Before she could react further, a scrub-wearing, turquoise unicorn mare called from across the room, “Lieutenant.” Lavender pried her eyes from the General, and made her way over.

“Doctor,” the Lieutenant responded, “one of my recruits told me-”

“This way,” she interrupted somberly, before turning around and marching toward one of the operating rooms.

Dread settled across Lavender's body, would they really ask Violet to help out with surgery? The ridiculous thought was the only comfort she could grasp onto as the true reality of the situation unfolded. As they drew nearer to the room, piercing cries of intense agony split the silence. It only redoubled as the doctor opened the sliding door, and allowed Lavender to step inside.

Upon the operating table, surrounded by some of the best surgeons on staff, was Violet. Nausea and shock immediately struck the Lieutenant as she stared at the scene before her. Violet’s rear legs and lower waste were lying beside her on the table, crushed nearly flat. The welding torch used to cut off the flattened armor and ruined flesh was still spewing flames. The pegasus was only still intact from the bottom of her stomach up. Her intestines were spilled out onto the table, tangled as one surgeon delicately tried to unravel them. Every other doctor worked tirelessly stitching her back together, applying potions, and even a panning her with the golden light of a pre-war healing talisman, but anypony could tell it was a lost cause.

Lavender fell back against the wall, before pitching over a nearby bin and puking the contents of her stomach. It wasn’t that she had never seen such degrees of gore, but to see her sister as the victim, and knowing she’d let the pony responsible go, it made Lavender’s body feel as if it were going numb.

It didn’t make sense, nopony could beat Violet, that had always been true. How could Stab have possibly managed this?

Another screeching cry erupted from the pony on the table, drawing forth anguished sobs from the Lieutenant before she galloped forward. Violet’s eyes peeled open as Lavender’s shadow fell over her, and her agonized expression calmed somewhat.

“H-hey big sis,” she whispered.

Lavender smiled, before grabbing onto one of the doctors. “Why isn’t my sister under anesthesia for this,” she snapped angrily.

The buck kept his cool, “There’s no time, ma’am, if we’re to save your sister’s life, we have to act quickly or else-”

“Bullshit,” Violet rasped quietly, drawing everypony’s attention. “We… all know… I’m not-” She coughed up a small spattering of blood.

“Don’t talk like that!” Lavender screamed down at her, before looking back at the doctor. “You can save her, right?”

His expression turned sorrowful, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but she’s right. The damage is just far too severe. We can try, and it may give her a few more hours, maybe days, but she will be in excruciating pain the entire time. In the end, it may be best to consider a more... merciful option.”

Rage suddenly erupted in Lavender’s heart, and she drew back a hoof as if to hit the surgeon who dared say her sister couldn’t survive this, but Violet spoke first. “Don’t… Lav.”

At the sound of her nickname, she let the hoof drop.

“Please,” Violet asked to the room, “leave my… sister… and I… alone.”

The surgeons gave each other uncertain looks, before they collectively set down their tools, affixed the talisman to a stand above Violet, and filed out of the room.

A river of tears poured forth from Lavender’s eyes as the hopelessness of it all set in. Thinking of nothing better to do, she decided to affirm the obvious.

“Who did this?” she whispered, pleading for the remotest chance that her sister wouldn’t give her the answer she knew was coming.

“You… have to… ask?” Violet questioned, a quizzical look touching her expression of pain. “You were… always… really bad about… seeing the obvious,” a small smile formed on the dying mare’s face.

"H-how?" Lavender stuttered.

"Dropped a... fucking elevator on me... if you can... believe it." Suddenly, Violet's face contorted in rage, before grasping Lavender's hoof. "You gotta... promise me Lav..." She grimaced in pain, before gritting her teeth and continuing, "promise me you'll kill that son of a bitch."

"I-I... Vi-," Lavender's heart hammered in her chest, her blood ran cold, and a cool sweat broke out on her coat. How do I tell her? she thought.

"Please," Violet begged, "he can't get away with-," she broke into another small fit of bloody coughs. Every effort to speak again was met with more sodden chokes, and the shining trails of tears began to fall down her cheeks.

Lavender threw her legs around Violet, laid close to her, and held tight. She began running a hoof through the dying mare's braided mane, and humming gently. She soon felt a wet spot begin to form on her chest, as her little sister's tears soaked her coat. "Shhhh," she whispered, "it's ok Vi, I'm here. Big sis has got you."

They stayed in each other's embrace, the subtle beep from the EKG machine periodically piercing the silence. As her sister's breaths grew shallower, Lavender gently said, "I love you."

The small smile returned to Violet's face, and she closed her eyes as the beep devolved into one continuous note. Her breast fell as she exhaled her final breath.

Lavender's shoulders quaked with sobs, and her own teardrops spattered against Violet's coat. The encroaching numbness from before was suddenly overwhelmed by anguish. The air of stoicism the Lieutenant wore shattered as she threw her head up and let out every ounce of sorrow, rage, and guilt in an animalistic wail. She continued on as her breath ran short, and her throat threatened to rupture. Finally, only a weary croak escaped her lips.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Lavender laid a gentle kiss on her sister's forehead.

"I promise," she whispered.

Author's Note

The quote for this chapter is from Marilyn Manson. I chose not to include it at the top because I’ve been trying harder to not break the immersion of the story.

Hero

Fallout Equestria: Insanity’s Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 1: Hero

“In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche

War, war never changes.

It has been nearly two centuries since the rain of fire that nearly wiped the magical land of Equestria, and its peaceful inhabitants, off the face of the Earth. Decades of conflict bubbled forth into a cacophony of violence, forming the single greatest tragedy this world had ever witnessed. The awe inspiring power of magic, once used as a tool of peace, healing, and technological progress, had been weaponized into a destructive force beyond what anyone could have possibly imagined.

After many years, when the fires were extinguished, the final remaining members of the Equestrian race emerged from underground shelters used to escape the atomic desolation. The sight that greeted them was horrifying. A hellscape where crimes once thought inconceivable became the daily routine. Murder, rape, enslavement, and betrayal have all become the norm in a world where only one truth was still accepted.

In the wasteland, there are no gods, no messiahs, and no heroes.

Only survivors.

Fifteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

The morning light dimly shone through the cracks of my shed, though a slow drip from the leaky roof dashed any hopes that it may actually be the sun. I slowly opened my eyes, only to be greeted by the manic grin of a green-maned mare glaring back at me. My heartbeat jumped and I struck my hooves out in a panicked flurry, only to feel them swipe through empty air.

I sat up in bed and felt the yellowed pages of the comic book slowly slide off my face. I smiled in relief, taking several deep breaths to calm the thundering in my chest.

Gingerly, I lifted the ancient pages onto the top bunk to join the rest of my collection. Along with the comics, there were a few other volumes that made up my books. An encyclopedia, a field medic's guide, a thesaurus, some magazines, and a copy of Daring Do and The Sapphire Stone with the latter half missing. The wasteland was deeply deprived of legible books, so I took what I could get. I’d had more, but some got lost, stolen, burnt, sold, or any number of other things really. Love for books also seemed to be in short supply these days.

However, I valued my comics more than any of them. There were only a few, issues four, nine, and thirteen of Power Ponies, but they were by far my most prized possessions. Countless nights had me up, re-reading the thrilling tales. Impossible odds overcome by the power friendship, the forces of justice triumphing over tyranny, senseless quarrels easily forgiven, and even the bumbling sidekick saving the day. Reliving the adventures of the Masked Matter-Horn and her friends reassured me that, at one time, heroes did exist.

My thoughts were constantly preoccupied by fantasies of joining the same ranks as those mighty champions of good. Defending the ideals of truth and justice, saving the innocent from the forces of evil. I imagined myself fighting alongside other brave heroes. All of us working together to bring about real change in the wasteland, to make sure there was a better tomorrow.

The spine chilling scream of a mare next door shattered my hopeful daydream. Shaken, I made my way across the small metal room. There was a pit forming in my stomach as I tried to ignore the sordid whimpers emanating from my wall.

I trotted up to a mirror sitting on a centuries-old dresser. The glass was shattered, but I could still make out a young, steel-gray unicorn colt looking back at me. My mane was cut short, though generally pretty unkempt. It was primarily a midnight blue, streaked with a lighter, grayer shade. The eyes staring back at me were a match for the darker tone.

I didn’t have a cutie mark yet, which was a bit worrying seeing as how I was almost ten. Although, considering where I lived, I was hardly chomping at the bit to find out what my special talent was.

On top of the dresser was my only other possession, an old wooden box inscribed with images of smiling and laughing ponies. I gently slid my hoof across the near-smooth surface, the loving detail of the inscriptions faded and worn with the years. I knitted my brow in concentration, then a deep blue aura surrounded the box before my feeble magic shakily lifted the lid. A bright-pink pony figure dutifully rose, standing on one leg with both front hooves raised in the air, and began to spin in a lazy circle.

The song that poured forth wasn’t one I was familiar with, not surprising as my only source of music was whatever I happened to catch on the communal radio. It was bright, upbeat, and, no matter how tough things got, it always managed to make me smile. Somedays, I just sat and watched the little statue spin its circles, humming along with the jolly tune. My mind wandered to visions of whole towns joining in, coming together just to brighten up each other’s day.

I stayed like that for a while, letting the melody encompass my thoughts. Blocking out the pained moans coming from next door, and the dread slowly filling me as I prepared to start the day. As the final notes played, I felt my mood brighten. After gently closing the box, I grabbed my thick canvas barding and nine-millimeter pistol off the hook beside my door. Equipped, I gave my reflection a final look.

"Well, Venture, time for work," I said to the broken colt staring back at me.

It was time to feed the slaves.

As predicted, it was pouring outside. The rain was enough to soak the barding through to my coat, sending a barrage of shivers coursing through me. Even in the middle of the desert, early morning and rain can chill you to the bone.

“Another beautiful day in Oasis,” I whispered to myself.

Oasis, it seemed like such a calming word. My understanding of what an oasis was led to thoughts of a place of refuge. A pool of cool water in the shades of lush palm trees, sheltering weary travelers from the harshness of the desert.

There could not exist a word that described where I lived any worse.

Oasis was a sort of stopping ground for slavers, be they Hunters bringing in newly captured stock from out west or transporting some for sale to the east. At the moment, we were negotiating a deal with some far larger operation in the Canterlot wastes, and they were looking to buy an exorbitant amount. The Hunters had been coming and going non-stop for weeks; we must have had well over a hundred ponies crammed into the chain link pens.

Normally I was on my own when it came to feeding time, but with the enormous population we had on hoof right now, my older brother Chance was assigned to help me today.

I took several deep breaths as I stared at the shed juxtaposing mine, trying to quell the chilling terror and nausea rampaging its way through my stomach. The screams from earlier were still pervading my thoughts, leaving me with visuals that only further terrified me. My legs shook with each small step toward his door, this time not entirely the fault of the cold. I raised a hoof and lightly knocked.

A couple seconds passed before the entrance swung open and my brother stepped out. He was a tall earth pony, though pretty lanky in comparison to most bucks. His coat was a chestnut brown and his mane a shock black, which he kept cut short and slicked back. The cutie mark on his flank portrayed a pair of bright-red lips dangling a long, silver tongue. His piercing green eyes glared out at me, the scleras both the vibrant yellow that resulted from radiation poisoning. The gaze bore into me with what seemed like a mixture of contempt and…need. My heart hammered in my chest.

“What d’ya want?” he demanded curtly.

“I… it… its… t-time to-” I tried to utter the words, but my lips betrayed me. I stared down at the ground, desperately thinking of an excuse to be anywhere else.

I heard an exasperated sigh before a hoof struck me across the face, sending me sprawling into the mud. My ear rang, and a painful heat started to spread over my cheek. I felt a pressure placed under my chin before I was roughly pulled out of the dirt and right into Chance’s hateful gaze.

“What. Do. You. Want. Fucktoy!?” he shouted.

“I-I, t-time to… to…” the words wouldn’t form. My mouth felt dry, my mind went blank. The churning in my stomach threatened to expel something that would make Chance a lot angrier at me then he already was.

His backhoof landed first.

Again, I was thrown to the ground. The splattering of the wet, cold earth thoroughly re-soaking my barding with murky water. I felt him wrap a leg around my neck as I was pulled up a second time.

“Y’know,” he began, letting his voice fall into a slow drawl, “I was havin’ a real nice mornin’. Quiet, well-rested,” he gestured a hoof back inside the room, “and even some very pleasant company.”

I spotted a golden mare with a bright-blue mane curled up on the edge of his bed. She was bruised and bleeding, especially near her hindquarters, and was shaking with silent sobs as she pressed her face into the dirty mattress. She was also sporting an explosive collar around her neck, standard procedure for anypony that wanted some “personal time” with one of the slaves.

He gave a satisfied nicker, admiring the horrid sight, before forcing my attention back to him. “And now, to have it all so rudely interrupted, well,” his voice dropped to a low growl, “there’s really only so much that I’m willin’ to put up with.”

My whole body was trembling then, and every bone felt like it’d been replaced with heavy steel. I was petrified into silence, merely letting panicked gasps past my lips. Every ounce of will I tried to put into running, hiding, anything to get away from the psychopath running a hoof through my filthy mane.

“Then again,” he continued thoughtfully, “mayhaps I’m lookin’ at this the wrong way. Could it be that my little fucktoy is a wee bit…” he grinned an incredibly unnerving smile, “jealous?” The last word was uttered with an emphasis that had my backside quivering. “Does little Venture want his big brother all to himself? Oh don’t you worry,” he ran his tongue along the side of my face before whispering, “tomorrow, the slaves will be gone, and you’ll be all mine again."

Finally, I convinced my legs to move as they scrambled in the mud, letting me slip out of my brother’s grip and gallop away as fast as possible. His laughter filled the air behind me before the door slammed shut. A terrified shriek erupted from within, quickly followed by the dull smack of hoof striking flesh.

Tears were streaming down my face, and the choked sobs forced me to stop as my breath ran short. I collapsed and broke down on the ground, my wailing muffled as I shoved my head back into the wet dirt.

I hated Chance. The sheer amount of joy he took from punishing others filled me with disgust and righteous anger.

At least... that’s how I wanted to feel, how a hero would feel. If I were the Masked Matter-Horn, I would bust down that door, blast my brother into oblivion, and save the innocent mare from his vile clutches. But I didn’t do that, and I wasn’t crying because I couldn’t. The tears running down my cheeks weren’t those of a heartbroken hero, or even just a sympathetic bystander. They were tears of shame.

Shame that came from the immense gratitude I felt toward that mare, because if it wasn’t her suffering at the hooves of Chance, it would be me. For all my fanciful thoughts of donning some symbol of hope and smiting the evils that plagued the wasteland, it all meant nothing. The mere sight of my brother, to catch those lustful eyes on my flank, was all it took to remind me of just how much of a coward I was.

We’d never been a warm family, hell even calling us civil might have been a bit of a reach, but we'd never gone out of our way to hurt each other. Our father was in charge of the whole operation, while my two brothers and I took care of the day to day responsibilities with a few other employees that were kept on hoof. Pike, the oldest, headed the Hunters. A group of mercenary slavers that went out on expeditions in the wastes to resupply our food and stock, or chase down runaways.

Chance was supposed to be in charge of guarding and keeping the slaves in line. Most days, he just concentrated on the latter job, bringing down punishment on the more rebellious of them. Generally, it meant some sort of public abuse or a few days in the Pit.

I was responsible for feeding and cleanup. Ultimately just bringing the slaves whatever slop the “cook” had dredged up that day, and then picking up whatever came out the other end. When work wasn’t involved, we mostly kept to ourselves.

That all changed about two years back, Chance was in the throes of puberty and I was just old enough to start working. One day, I was cleaning out the pens while my brother was chatting up another slaver. He'd always been good at talking to ponies, his cutie mark was evidence enough of that. It was never too long before he had anypony eating out of his hooves, and this encounter shouldn't have been any different. This time, however, the conversation ended with the brown stallion tripping on the bucket of droppings I’d been collecting and covering himself in almost as much shit as was coming out of his mouth.

She burst out laughing and trotted away, while I tried to suppress a fit of giggles. Enraged, my brother tried to put a bullet in the mare’s head, but he’s never been that good of a shot. Scared her half to death and had her quitting before the end of the day. Chance ended up cementing just how poorly he took rejection with the other slavers, he didn't get a whole lot of attention after that.

Then his bruised ego turned on the next closest target. It was the first time he’d ever hit me, which was quickly followed by the second, then the third. Again and again, beating me until I was a bloody heap on the ground. I thought he was going to kill me that day.

Instead, Chance brought us back to his room with promises that he was sorry and wanted to help clean me up. I went with him, a poor decision in retrospect, but he was one of the few ponies I could actually call family, I wanted to trust him. It began innocently enough, he helped clean the blood and dirt off my coat. Apologizing the whole time and assuring me he'd just lost his head.

I could never recall a time I’d ever bonded with somepony in my family. I started getting excited, actually thinking that I might finally have a brother like the ones I’d read about. Sure, that bonding might've been cleaning up the wounds he'd inflicted, but it was something.

Then... things got strange. He started speaking to me in a hushed whisper, and touching me in places that sent chills down my spine. I tried to tell him I didn't like it, to convince him to stop. It was like he wasn’t listening, just becoming more determined while I struggled. Laughing in my face as I tried to heave his bulk off before violently shoving himself inside me.

Chance discovered something about himself after that. He didn't care about gender, age, or even sex really. He wanted resistance, somepony to say no, somepony he could hurt.

It wasn't exactly a secret amongst my family, but our father didn't care. He was of the persuasion that anything you weren't strong enough to protect, you didn't deserve to have. I suppose it wasn't surprising for a slaver to extend that philosophy to flesh. As long as we all still got our jobs done, he couldn’t give two shits what we did to each other.

I wiped my nose on my fetlock and tried to compose myself as the sobs wracking my body slowly quieted. Chance may or may not show up, but the work still needed doing.

I trotted the short way to the main building of Oasis; a round, two-story abomination of twisted steel. The structure was an affront to structural integrity everywhere, no amount of logic could dictate how it was still standing. Half of the towering, jagged spires were chained in place, with no sight of any reinforcements whatsoever. Every movement within was met with a creak so disconcerting, you'd be forgiven for thinking the whole building was about to collapse into itself.

A guard sat outside, cradling an empty bottle of Wild Pegasus Whiskey as she snored. I opened the sheet metal door to continue inside, lightly kicking the green-maned, orange earth pony's chair as I went by. She startled awake and reached for a double-barreled shotgun that was just out of reach, causing the mare to fall flat on her face as she grabbed at empty air. Trying to compose herself, she quickly lifted the gun, bringing it to bear against her mystery assailant, and then turned right into the edge of the door. She fell back, clutching her nose.

Despite what just happened, I let out a choked giggle before walking over to help Ambrosia. I moved her hooves aside as she peeled open her emerald, tear-filled eyes to see me. The earth pony breathed a sigh of relief as I checked to see if anything was broken.

"Celestia's swollen taint, Venture, you nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack," she swore after a few seconds, the injury making her sound a bit nasally.

"You were drinking on watch again, Amber," I responded chidingly, "you remember what the Boss did when he caught you last time, right?"

A bit of the color drained from her face as she absently rubbed a hoof over her right ear, feeling a very deliberate looking cut that split it in half. "Uh... yeah. Thanks for lookin' out kid," she said sheepishly.

"Anytime," I tried to say cheerily, forcing a small smile.

The orange pony almost grinned in return, before she looked a bit more closely at me. "You doin' alright," she asked, worry touching her voice, "you're lookin' a little... weepy."

I reflexively wiped a hoof across my eyes, trying to hide any sign of the tears I'd hoped had dried. "Sure," I tried to say cooly, "never better... uh, tripped on the way over is all." I put my leg around hers, trying to lead us inside. "Come on, you probably need some water, food, and..." I gave the air a disapproving sniff, "maybe a bath?"

The concern on her face was replaced by confusion as she took a cautious whiff under her front leg, and recoiled immediately. "Hoo doggy, you might have a point there. Some grub sounds good too."

I gave a silent sigh of relief, glad that I could steer the conversation away from me. I focussed on the shotgun laying on the ground, the blue aura of my magic glowing, and tried to lift it into Ambrosia's grasp. It shook for a few seconds while the mare looked on awkwardly. Finally, I let out a weary breath and the weapon dropped.

"Here, lemme get that for ya," she stated comfortingly as she bit and slung the shotgun on her back. Then she placed a hoof under her chin, seeming to ponder something. “Is that what’s bugging you,” she asked after a few seconds, “your magic not bein’ up to snuff yet?”

I pounced on the excuse, “It… it just doesn’t feel like I’m a real unicorn, you know? How am I supposed to find my special talent if I can’t even do something that basic?” I tried to summon a sniffle to really sell the performance.

She put a leg over my shoulders, the feeling of her touch sending a course of shivers through my skin. I took several deep breaths, desperately trying to ignore the sensation.

“Now don’t you go worryin’ about some meanin'less shit like that," she began. "You’re a smart fuckin' kid, smarter than any of the clutzes ‘round this place. ‘Specially yours truly,” she placed the other leg on her chest as she said the last bit. “That’ll get ya a hell of a lot further than some party tricks.”

"As for your talent, it'll show up when it does. It's not anythin' you can force, but I bet you it's gonna be somethin' real grand and excitin'. Not like," she gestured at the foaming tankard on her flank, "dumb ol' cider brewin'. Honestly, y’ever heard of such a useless talent? When was the last time you even saw a fresh fuckin’ apple, much less ‘nuff to make cider?"

I sniffed, “Thanks Amber, that means a lot.” In reality, my pitiful magical abilities were one of the last things on my mind. I’d work it out someday, just a matter of getting in enough practice.

I don’t think my treatment was common knowledge amongst the other slavers. If any of them were aware, they kept their mouths shut. Nopony had any illusions about how cruel my brother could be, and how petty he was when anypony slighted him. While Chance might not be that imposing, he was the only one with the talent to convince our father to bring down the hammer on anypony he wanted. Because of that, they were all of the belief that Chance could pretty much do as he pleased.

Ambrosia and I trotted inside and headed for the tubs. I always thought it was a bit odd that a place like Oasis actually had a place to wash, even if it was just some metal basins and boiling water. I walked over to a large cauldron set in the corner of the room, pulling on a lever that let rain water in from a small reservoir on the roof. There was a glyph on the floor that I waved a hoof over, activating the fire talisman placed under the pot.

As the water heated, I turned back to the mare. She was in the process of stripping off her own rough barding, tossing the pieces carelessly on the floor. I felt my cheeks start to warm as I quickly turned away, then heard her let out an amused snort.

“Come on kid,” she teased, “ain’t like you never seen a naked mare before. We don’t even normally wear clothes.”

I continued looking away, not entirely sure how to answer. She let out a laugh and threw her front legs around my chest, pulling me into a big bear hug. “You are just the sweetest, most timid little cuss, you know that?” she cooed. “Why, if only you were a few years older. I’d make you all mine.”

My skin started to crawl from the feeling of her embrace. Light touches I could handle, but anything beyond that and my mind flashed with images of a laughing psychopath and a pain in places that made my nethers quiver with anxiousness. My breath started coming in short, panicked gasps as I struggled against what I was sure was just a friendly embrace. Hearing my discomfort, Ambrosia quickly let go. The same concern from before crossed her face.

Before she could ask, I sputtered, “I-I’ll go get some drinking water… and- and food,” perhaps a bit louder than was necessary. I had to resist the urge to sprint out of the room as I made my way back into the hallway and toward the kitchen.

Even before Chance, I didn't like being held. I'd remembered seeing an article in one of my magazines about the importance of holding your foals after they were born. Since none of us knew who our mothers were, and with our father having about as much affection as a pissed off hellhound, that may explain a few things. At least before, however, I could stand more than just holding hooves. After two years at my brother's mercy, it was pretty rare for me to be comfortable with any kind of touching.

Still, I liked Ambrosia. For a slaver, she was probably one of the kindest ponies I’d ever met. She got hired on about a month ago, and was already the butt of most jokes being thrown around the compound. I don’t think she was unintelligent, just a little naive… and perhaps a bit uncoordinated, but nice. She was also civil to the stock, sort of like how a farm pony would handle sheep. Not exactly equals, but a far cry from the outright cruelty the others used.

I enjoyed our conversations together, I'd talk about my dreams of the future while she listened with a rapt attention. She'd describe life growing up with her brother in New Appleloosa. Although she never spoke much about how she got from there to Oasis, or what drove such a kindly mare to slaving, but I didn’t press the issue. We all had some secrets we wanted kept.

I trotted into the kitchen, and was immediately bombarded with a scent of what smelled like burning brahmin shit. Patchy, the old, three-legged red unicorn that held onto the title of “chef” was absent-mindedly hovering a pan over an open flame. An acrid green smoke flowed from whatever was cooking within, forcing me to clutch onto anything I might have had in my stomach. After a few seconds, he turned to look at me.

“Well now, if it ain’t the black sheep,” he said gruffly. “Got a real nice cuisine for our guests today,” he barked a laugh before letting out a huge snort and spitting into the pan. “Yessiree, Princesses themselves woulda been foamin’ at the mouth to get a hold of this fine dinin’.” Then he lifted out a rusty spatula and scraped… whatever the hell it was into the closest of several big buckets next to the fire. I lifted one onto my back before walking around the old coot toward the edible food we kept for ourselves.

Today I was lucky, an untouched box of Sugar Apple Bombs was one of the last items on the top shelf. I peered at it, surrounding the box with my magic and shaking it just enough to topple the cereal down to the ground. There were also a couple bottles of purified water, both of which I snagged as I took my haul of food back to the washroom.

Ambrosia had gotten the hot water from the cauldron and filled two tubs. She was already lounging in one, a hoof covering her eyes as the hangover was undoubtedly starting to hit her. The mare turned toward me as I walked back into the room, and immediately moved a hoof to cover her mouth as her cheeks expanded. Quickly realizing that the filth on my back may have had something to do with that, I set the bucket down and kicked it out into the hall.

The earth pony let out several ragged breaths as she tried to rid herself of the scent. “Goddess dammit, what does that senile old fool put in that shit?” she gasped.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had all four legs when he got hired so…” I trailed off as she let out a big gut laugh before wincing and putting a hoof back over her eyes.

I set the cereal and both bottles of water on the side of the tub, thinking she could probably use it all more than I could, before turning around to head out and start work.

“Hey little man, listen, about earlier…” she started to say nervously, “You know, I was just jokin’ around…”

“Forget it,” I cut her off, “it was nothing.”

We sat in silence for a while, the tension in the room growing more taut by the second. I tried to leave again, wanting to keep the unsettling moment behind me.

“Wait,” she called, “don’t you wanna wash up too?”

I looked myself over, seeing the massive amount of mud still clinging to me. I wanted nothing more than to scrub my coat as hard as possible but, “No time, gotta get the stock fed before the Boss comes around.”

“Ain’t Chance ‘sposed to be helpin’ you out?”

“Supposed to and will are two real different things in Chance’s book,” I conceded, trying not to shudder as I spoke my brother’s name.

“If you need some help…”

I waved a hoof, “Naw, I got it. Besides, I think you’ll have plenty to get done today with the shipment moving out tomorrow. So try and get yourself a bit more in order, ok?” I asked pleadingly, “I… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Trying to exit a final time, I faced the door only to feel a hoof on my shoulder before I could. I turned back into Ambrosia’s kind gaze, and a warm smile spread over her face. “You know,” she began, “you keep that little golden heart of yours beatin', and you’re gonna make a lot of ponies real happy with it someday.” She moved the hoof to my chest, resting it right over the subtle pulsing within. “Don’t you let anyone take that away from you. Ain’t nearly enough kind souls out there.”

Even as my skin began to crawl at the touch, there was the familiar sting of fresh tears near the edge of my eyes as I returned the grin. Not able to think of an appropriate way of thanks, I held onto her leg for a few seconds, trying to keep the warmth of the moment alive, before turning to depart. Her smile widened as she gave a small wave of farewell. I snagged my bucket on the way past and headed back out into the rain.

The slave pens were set right in the center of Oasis, the barracks and main building flanking them on either side. As I trotted up, I felt the same mixture of unease and sympathy. This time it redoubled as I witnessed the filthy and resigned faces of the ponies. All of them were shoved into such close proximity that there was hardly even room to sit. Several shot frightened or loathing looks my way, behavior that I’d gotten used to. I walked toward the guard stationed outside one of the locked cages, a bear of a green earth pony whose name I was never able to extract during the five words he ever spoke around me.

The guard turned toward the gate as I drew closer, working the actions on the twin assault carbines mounted on his battle-saddle before bellowing, “Feeding time, back it up!”

The sordid ponies all pressed as close together as possible while the gate was unlocked. Carbine stepped through the gap in the chain-link first, staring down the stock as if daring them to try anything. I followed close behind before turning toward the feeding troughs mounted on either side of the pen.

I tipped the stinking bucket against the side and watched the green goop slowly fill the basin. The ponies behind me looked on, their expressions quickly turning to revulsion and defeat as they observed their morning meal. I felt a sharp pain lance its way through my heart, why couldn’t I do more? The last thing I wanted to do was force them to eat this pile of crap, but it wasn’t like there was nearly enough fresh food to feed all of them. Most days, we barely had enough to feed ourselves. I knew at the back of my mind it was either this, or starvation. Sometimes those choices got pretty hard to decide between.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied movement and almost dropped the rest of the “food” as I spun to see what was happening. A black, earth pony mare was nervously approaching the guard.

“E...Ex-Excuse me,” she asked quietly. The giant pony quickly turned toward her, leveling both guns and tightening his jaw on the mouth grip. The slave took a step back before sparing a glance over her shoulder at a silver mare leaning against the side of the pen. She was clutching her stomach, moaning quietly, while several others tried to comfort her. As if that revived her confidence, she strode the rest of the way to Carbine, sticking her face right into the guard’s.

“Please,” she began, “it’s my sister. I think she’s really sick and I need to get her some help. Do y’all have a doctor or anyth…” Carbine’s strike across her face silenced the rest of question. The mare fell to the ground as the slaver brought both hooves up in an attempt to crush her. A scream of terror erupted from her as she crossed her front legs over her face.

I didn’t even think as I sprinted across the pen and threw myself in front of the prostrate pony. “Stop!” I shouted, immediately halting the guard. He lowered himself to the ground, staring at me expectantly. I gulped, not really thinking of what I was going to do next.

After a couple awkward seconds, the words came to me, “A-After we’ve locked up, go get Syringe and tell her to take a look at the mare.”

“Why?” Carbine responded, a genuine quizzical look on his face, “We got more than enough to spare.”

I shook my head as I extended a hoof toward him, “That doesn’t mean we have to let any of them suffer, or kill them for trying to help each other. Besides, dead stock still means less profit, right? N-now do as you’re told!”

The guard seemed to weigh his options, I guess the thought of not killing mildly insubordinate slaves required time to process. After a few seconds, he shrugged and moved back into position. His rifles aimed back at the rest of the crowd so I could finish.

A gentle sigh of relief left me as I offered a leg toward the fallen mare. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she slowly took my hoof and let me pull her back upright.

"Th-thank you," she gasped, "thank you so much." Sparkling tears of gratitude started shining in her eyes as she moved as if to embrace me.

I backed away, smiling and about to respond when another voice cried out, "For what?!"

A purple unicorn stallion trotted up to us, a burning contempt in his eyes. A metallic magical suppressor was secured over his horn, a precaution taken with all unicorn stock. "So, one of these slaving pieces of shit does something halfway decent and you're fucking grateful?!" He shoved the mare out of the way and approached me.

"Oh, thank you so fucking much for NOT killing us," he shouted into my face. "You come by and feed us this putrid shit day in and day out and, the one time you grow a Goddess-damned conscience, that’s supposed to make everything better? You’re just like the rest of them!” He pushed me over and raised his front legs in an eerily familiar, crushing way, “FUCK Y-."

A gunshot rang out, freezing the heated slave before he fell over. Deep crimson sprayed from his neck, a warm stream spattering across my face. The buck let out a wet gurgle, trying to press a hoof over his wound. His eyes were wide with terror as they bore into me, the pupils shrinking down to pinpricks. Sodden gasps escaped his lips until he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Chance trotted into my vision, a grim smile adorning his face and a smoking revolver in his grasp. He towered over the dying pony as he holstered the gun, “Well, well, well, now what’s goin’ on in this neck o’ the woods, eh?”

The buck merely shook in the dirt, a steady stream of crimson leaking from his mouth, wet bubbling the only noise that escaped him. The other slaves looked on in horror, but the imposing figure of Carbine seemed enough of a deterrent for them not to intervene.

Chance lowered his head toward the unicorn, “What was that? I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I asked you a question,” he slammed a leg into the bucks side, causing another expulsion of blood to spatter the earth between us. “See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it,” my brother continued. “I think that any good working relationship is built on a foundation of communication. So just tell me the truth, ‘I was an idiot, and it got me shot in the fuckin’ neck. I promise never to do it again.’ Easy Goddess-damn peasy.“

He began circling the stallion, “So, lesson learned, right? Tell the truth, and it shall set,” he struck the slave with another kick. “You,” kick, “FREE!” He brought both front hooves down on the buck’s neck as he yelled the last word, caving in his throat and expelling a final stream of gore that splashed across my coat.

The brown stallion was grinning like a maniac, panting heavily. He slowly wiped the small spattering of red on his face against the back of his leg as he approached me. My brother lowered his face until it was level with mine, his green and yellow eyes cutting into me, before extending a hoof and gently wiping off a bit of the blood from around my mouth. I shook in petrified silence as the sensation of his touch set every nerve in me ablaze.

“You owe me,” he whispered, that grin scarring itself into my memory. “Don’t worry, you can pay it back tonight.” He puckered his lips and made a small smooching sound, then threw back his head and cackled the whole way out of the pen.

My mouth fell open as the shock of the situation finally hit me. Then I pitched to my side and dry heaved, silently grateful that I’d forgone eating today.

Oasis made no fucking sense.

As much as I despised my home, what it did, and most of its inhabitants, I could never shake the feeling of just how stupidly the operation was run. What good was a sick or dying slave? What good was it to kill perfectly healthy ones over some trivial bullshit? Why would anypony seek to traumatize them before they’d even been sold? Most days the whole place just seemed like a sadist’s paradise instead of a slaving ring. Honestly, I wondered just how the hell we stayed in business.

I muttered these thoughts quietly to myself as I made my way toward the front gate. The Hunters were due back soon with a few pieces of stock and, hopefully, some more food. The fencing around the compound was basically just whatever big hunks of metal the previous inhabitants had gotten to lean up against each other without falling. The only gap in the wall was a single piece of chain-link fence locked into place with a few lengths of wire and chain.

I began to undo the straps as I spotted a covered wagon approaching in the distance. As they drew near, I saw my oldest brother leading the group. Pike made Carbine look like a pushover. The enormous, deep red earth pony stood a full head taller than anyone I’d ever seen. His long, dark green mane was tied back into a simple knot. The muscles on his chest and legs bulged to near-grotesque proportions, and his cutie mark showed a pair of crossed hunting spears.

The rest of the Hunters were pretty unremarkable, three other earth ponies and two unicorns all of varying colors and genders. The wagon was trailing the slaves they’d managed to take. I could see a stallion, a mare, and a young filly; probably a family they’d ambushed.

The restraints undone, I heaved on one edge of the fence, swinging it open for them. Once inside, I quickly locked up and sprinted after my brother.

“H-hey Pike,” I called nervously.

The giant grunted in response. Pike was a pony of few words, probably because he just didn’t know many. He was a very simple-minded creature, unless the topic was hunting, killing or fucking he generally didn’t pay too much attention. It was never incredibly clear if he had some mental disorder, or just genuinely didn’t care enough to learn anything new. I suppose there was some comfort to be found in knowing that you were only ever expected to do the few things you were really good at.

I tried to put in the effort to know him, seeing as how he was the only family member I had who didn’t seem to have outright contempt for me. However, I’m pretty sure he just replaced their malice with apathy, as if I wasn’t meaningful enough to spend the energy hating.

“How was the hunt,” I tried to continue.

“Found some,” his deep voice stated lazily.

“Didn’t happen to find some food along with them, did ya?”

“Wagon,” he gestured his head toward the carriage.

Knowing I wasn’t going to get much more conversation out of him, I turned toward the transport. Inside was a pretty meager spread: a couple cans of Cram, some InstaMash, junk food, and a few near-rotting pieces of produce. Nearly giving up on finding anything noteworthy, I almost turned to leave when the edge of a blue package appeared underneath the pile. I swiped the rest of the food aside and beheld the treasure beneath, an untouched box of chocolate Fancy Buck Snack Cakes.

I nearly jumped with glee as I snatched the treats. It wasn’t often that we got any of my absolute favorite food, and in my favorite flavor no less. I looked around to see if anypony was watching before carefully creeping out of the back of the wagon. It probably wasn’t a big deal, after the sale tomorrow we’d have more than enough caps to actually go out and buy food. Assuming those in charge of the money had the two-bits to spend it on something necessary before buying up enough booze to drown a small army.

As I exited the wagon, I found myself face to face with the captured slaves. The stallion was a white unicorn with a long, vibrant pink mane, while the mare was a brown earth pony, with short, cyan hair. The filly trailing behind them was a mixture, the white coat and race of her dad and mane color of her mom, though it was far larger and curlier than either of her parents'.

The three of them stared at me, the grim reality of their situation heavily weighing on their expressions. The filly had a terrified look, and was way past the verge of tears if the clean streaks running down her face were any indication.

The joy and excitement I’d been feeling quickly vanished at their plight. I imagined them being shoved into a pen and shown Patchy’s cuisine as their new daily meal, merely rubbing salt in the wound that was their enslavement.

My stomach had the very inopportune timing of growling right then. I looked down at the prize in my grasp, my mouth watering as I imagined the chocolatey goodness filling my rumbling belly. Their gazes met mine again, no words needing to be spoken.

Why couldn’t I do more, I thought to myself, that’s what I’d asked. I stole a glance over my shoulder, the group of Hunters were all conversing, scheming up ways they would spend their various shares of tomorrow’s payday. With a sigh, I approached the family. The mare protectively pulled the filly to her side as the buck placed himself between them and me, putting on the most menacing face he could muster.

With a bit of resignation, I held out the box to them. Shock crossed over all of their faces, quickly followed by fear as they, too, quickly shot looks at the Hunters. I gestured for the family to move a bit more behind the wagon and out of sight, just in case any other slavers decided to look over in our direction. Once hidden, I put my hoof to my lips as I approached the filly. She looked incredibly nervous, so I tried to put on the warmest expression I could to reassure her. The curly-maned girl glanced at her mother who cautiously nodded, though not without ever taking her eyes off me.

Slowly, I parted the kid’s hair and nestled the box amongst her curls, out of sight of any prying eyes. The filly’s look of shock quickly changed to a large grin as she tried to throw her hooves around me, but was yanked back by the chains around her neck. Smiling, I patted her on the head before turning to leave.

None of them tried to converse any further with me, and that was fine. My stomach might have been empty then, but I could feel my heart flutter gently in my chest. I’d done something, made a positive difference in somepony’s life. Better yet, nopony got hurt because of it.

It might not have seemed like much, but that family was in for a whole lot more pain before anything got better for them. If I could do one thing to make them smile for just a little longer, that would have to be enough.

That was my heroic deed for the day.

The sky was darkening as I laid in bed, the brittle pages of Power Ponies number thirteen open in front of me. The issue described the battle between the Ponies and a new villain, Toro Toro. An enormous masked minotaur whose sole aim was to challenge and defeat the strongest fighters in the world. He arrives in Maretropolis and kidnaps the Saddle Rager, convinced that she is the only one of the heroes fit to take him on. Though she refuses throughout the entirety of the story to fight him, when her friends finally arrive to rescue her, they’re captured and have their lives placed in mortal peril. In the final scene, her anger boils over as she transforms into the hulking beast, ready to bring down punishment on the lowly villain that dared threaten her friends.

I sighed with disappointment as I flipped to the final page. The words at the bottom were those that filled me with more contempt than any others in the wasteland, TO BE CONTINUED.

"I fucking hate cliff-hangers,” I muttered to myself, slowly closing the book with a subtle push of magic.

I laid back on the mattress and stared up at the top bunk, the raucous noise of inebriated celebration filled the air around me. A few hours ago, the representatives from our buyer had shown up to finalize the deal. They brought a few sacks full of caps, and a crate of booze to celebrate. I was pretty sure everypony was absolutely plastered at this point, so I usually found this time to sneak away.

I felt my eyes start to close, the experiences of the day still swimming through my mind. Thankful tears of a distraught mare, the dying eyes of a scorned buck who let his temper overrun his reason, the pure unbridled joy of a filly getting one more treat before her life would forever turn for the worse. I hoped I was netting something close to positive on the whole hero scale, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

The sound of drunken slurring, that may have been an attempt at singing, began to draw nearer before a set of random thumps reverberated throughout the shed. After a brief pause, a loud banging sounded from my door as a voice called out, “Hey, shaweet thang. Hubby’s home.”

My stomach twisted in knots at Chance’s drunken ramblings. The thoughts running through my head went through their usual cycle: lock the door, hide, pretend I’m not here. All for naught really, it never worked. If I hid, he’d find me, or make things a lot worse the next time he did. If I locked the door, he’d find a way to break it down. Even as liquored up as he undoubtedly was, the buck was incredibly persistent and I didn’t feel like jury-rigging another new lock.

Instead, I lowered my head, drew in a breath, and moved toward the entrance. It always felt like a long walk, the sinking feeling in my gut, the quivering from my backside, and the unbridled terror that was rampaging its way through every facet of my body.

No matter how much I wanted to run, to turn tail and leave this horrid place at my back, I knew it would never happen. This was my life, or at least a part I’d been forced to accept. It wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go, hell I’d never even been more than a few hundred meters outside of the compound. The world out there was a complete mystery to me, save for the stories I’d hear the other slavers tell. The only horrors I had to deal with here were ones that I was… intimately familiar with.

I just wanted to curl up on my bed and cry, as if I hadn’t done that enough today. But Chance was waiting and, the longer I kept him doing so, the more vile he would be.

The door creaked as I opened it. My brother was leaning against the frame, his eyes glazed and the smell of cheap liquor strong on his breath. He shoved me aside as he barged in, taking a final swig off a bottle perched on the end of his hoof before carelessly throwing it against the wall above my head. The glass shards glanced off me, opening several small cuts on my skin.

He stumbled around the room for a bit before finally collapsing on my mattress, crushing the comic beneath him. I galloped across the floor, my earlier fear completely overridden by my desire to save the precious pages. I shoved at the drunken sadist on my bed, desperately trying to retrieve the book.

“Move!” I shouted.

A look of inexplicable confusion crossed his face as he slowly rolled onto his side. I grabbed and tried to stow the comic on the top bunk, hoping my brother wouldn’t take an interest, before it was snatched from my grasp. Chance, a look of amusement on his face, held the cover and let it drop open, as if expecting some erotic centerfold to come spilling out.

“Za fuck you readin’ zis for,” he slurred, carelessly flipping through the ancient pages.

I felt a mixture of horror and anger lance through me as the sound of delicate paper tearing filled the room. I rushed at my brother, desperate to save the book. A bitter chuckle escaped him as he held the comic just out of my reach, dangling it in front of me.

“Give it back!” I screamed, desperation driving my every move.

“Ooooo, po’ wittle Venture wants his wittle picture book back,” he mocked. Another sadistic giggle left his mouth before he struck out with his rear legs, sending me toppling to the floor.

Tears of anger and frustration streaming down my face, I picked myself back up and charged toward my brother. Giving a final sneer, he held the thin volume in front of my face before tearing it right down the middle. I could feel my anger disintegrate as horror seized me. The colorful scraps of the ruined pages fluttered softly to the floor as I felt my limbs give way. I buried my face against the cold steel, feeling fresh sobs begin to wrack my body.

The frame of my bed creaked as Chance stood, the sound of muffled giggles escaping his throat. “Aw, I didn’t hurt my brover’s wittle feewin’s did I?” the mocking tone still pervaded his voice. “Well, don’t you worry, we can still have a lot mo’ fun togever without any stupid kiddie books.”

Pain and vitriol flowed through me. In my most defeated, bitter tone I muttered, “Just… just get it over with.”

“Now, now,” he responded, a chiding edge to his voice, “I would think you, more than anypony, would know that I’m just a…” he placed a leg around my shoulders, bringing his mouth close to my ear, “hopeless romantic. I would never want this to end too quickly.” He started chuckling again, the sound grating against my nerves like hooves scraping a chalkboard.

Then he grasped my tail in his mouth before yanking me up onto the dirty mattress, the sharp pain from the motion causing me to yelp in surprise. I could feel Chance’s hooves press into the top of my back, shoving my front end down as he continued holding my tail aloft. He began a slow, methodical massaging of my backside.

It was all I could do not to yell in fright and dart from the room. The sensation of his touch caused my skin to feel like it was struggling to pull itself free from my flesh. The room started to spin, blurred by the tears I was trying to hold back. My breath came in ragged gasps, the terror squashing any remaining feelings of self-pity from the loss of my book. I steeled myself in grim anticipation for what I knew was to come.

“Well now,” he cooed, “seems like we’re about ready, huh?” The touching stopped as the frame creaked again, signalling Chance’s change in position. His hooves returned, this time placed on my flanks as he aligned himself with my exposed nethers. “So… you like those dumb lil’ supercunts huh?” he continued, the increased pressure on my back warning me of what was next. “Well, you wanna see some real superpowers?”

He lowered his head toward mine again. My eyes were sealed shut as I tried to escape back into my own mind, uselessly trying to withdraw my senses from the reality playing out before me.

With the acrid smell of liquor infusing his words, he gently whispered, “Watch me make this cock disappear.”

I whimpered helplessly, feeling the warmth of his member push against my skin. I bit the dirty cloth of my mattress, preparing for the debilitating pain slowly entering me. The initial shock and warmth struck like a blow as the unwanted phallus spread me apart and he began to push inside.

I was dimly aware of the sounds of celebration increasing in volume outside, the sounds of arguments and scuffles joining the mix. It was a fairly common occurrence, usually the result of somepony welching on a bet that lost them their share of payday. Wasn’t much that could be done about it, it was always just my hope that nopony went for their guns.

As if they’d been waiting for me to think it, the crack of a gunshot overrode the entire discourse, and was swiftly followed by another… and another. Despite the horrific sensations befalling me, a feeling of worry for those outside began to creep in as well.

Different guns started to join in, as the sound of ricocheting bullets accompanied several holes sprouting in the thin metal of my room.

“Wha’ the fuck!” Chance shouted, immediately withdrawing himself from my burning backside.

I dove under the bed, placing my hooves over my head. The shootout became intermixed with shouts of shock and pain before I heard a voice crying, “JAILBREAK, JAILBREAK!”

A panicked look struck my brother’s face as he turned toward the door. “Stay right fuckin’ there!” he shouted as he pointed an uncoordinated hoof toward me, “We’re not done here!” Slowly, he peeked his head outside before sprinting into the night, conveniently in the opposite direction of the shooting.

For the first time in my life, there was nothing I wanted to do more than listen to Chance. The cacophony outside was only becoming more panicked and, with night swiftly settling in, I doubted anypony even knew what they were shooting at. I would be just as likely to get shot by another slaver as I was attacked by an escaping slave.

Besides, who would I even help? I didn’t want to hurt anypony, slaver or slave, so what good could I do?

In answer, a high-pitched scream of pain erupted from beyond my door, quickly followed by an agonized whimpering.

I crawled across the floor toward my door, a lump of worry settling in my stomach. I was terrified of what I would find outside, but ponies were getting hurt. As much as every instinct I'd developed screamed at me not to, I couldn’t live with myself huddling inside when I could help. I pulled on my rough barding, slid the pistol into the holster on my side, and grabbed my field medic’s guide off the top bunk.

Slowly, I pushed open the door and crept outside. Ponies were all running and shouting, firing random shots at the various silhouettes in the dark. It was pandemonium, bodies lay randomly on the ground, some still moaning or clutching at wounds. In the waning light, it was hard to tell the extent of any injuries.

I looked over at the pens. The front gates of each had been thrown open, almost like they’d been unlocked. A large mound lay near the cages, the bloody heap that was Carbine appeared to have been trampled. Both of his rifles were missing.

Shaking off the image, I galloped toward the source of the scream. It was a peach mare with a light red mane, I recognized her as one of the unicorn Hunters. She was writhing on the ground, clutching her chest, and crying out in agony.

Swiftly I looked her over, shoving her hooves aside, and noting one very serious looking hole oozing blood on her breast. I tore a piece of the canvas barding off and started to apply pressure. It was far from ideal, and the dirty cloth would undoubtedly cause an infection, but bleeding out was the main concern. I had to stem it.

I could feel the material get sucked into the wound as she inhaled. Upon breathing out, a stream of crimson spat from the hole, while the mare coughed a red haze into my face. Panicked, I opened up the guide and flipped through the pages until I came to gunshot wounds. The book detailed that her lung had been pierced and it had become a sucking chest wound, her breathing pulling air in and out of the cavity. It needed something airtight to seal or her lung would remain collapsed.

I moved toward her face, a look of terror and pain etched into her features. “I’ll be right back, ok?” I tried to say as calmly and comfortingly as possible. “I just need to get you a better bandage.”

“N-no…” she cried, grasping onto my leg, “don’t... l-leave me.” Tears were streaming down her face, “It… it hurts s-so much. I-I… don’t wanna die.”

“You won’t, I promise,” a cold assurance I didn’t even know I could muster touched my voice.

Fear still pervading her expression, she slowly nodded and let go of my leg. I turned and galloped toward the main building, where Syringe kept her office.

I couldn’t tell who was who as twilight set in, and the sound of fighting only seemed to escalate as I approached the center of the compound. Bullets occasionally zinged by overhead, forcing me to hit the ground. Still and crying forms were littered everywhere, those that could calling out for help as I crept by.

I jumped as something grasped onto my leg. There was a dirty, unarmed buck on the ground beside me. A slow dribble of blood trailed out of his mouth as he gurgled. Sparing a glance downward, I could see his stomach was a mess of ground meat. A continual stream of gore poured out of the wound, and I could see the end of grey intestines extruding as well.

His eyes were terrified and pleading, the same as the mare I was trying to help. It broke my heart to do so, but I yanked my leg from his feeble grasp, mouthing a silent apology, and continued on. If I didn’t focus on one pony at a time, I wouldn’t save anyone. Fewer without any supplies.

Arriving at the hideous structure, I pulled open the front door and dashed inside. Rushing through the crude hallways, I passed by the kitchen. Several ponies I’d seen in the pens were ripping into the few boxes of decent food with a bestial hunger, the broken and bleeding corpse of Patchy cooling on the floor behind them. His face was stuck in a gruesome deathmask, screeching in pain. His three legs all struck out at impossible angles, and an enormous, mouth-shaped gash was all that remained of his throat.

I felt a pang of sympathy for the old buck, but there wasn’t time to dwell. There were still ponies alive that I could save.

I rounded the corner leading to the medical office of Oasis. As I approached the entrance, I could hear what sounded like panicked voices pleading with somepony. I slowly opened the door a crack and peered inside.

The sick slave and her sister from earlier were huddled on the operating table, clutching desperately at each other as they stared at a mare across the room. Syringe was a plump, old unicorn with a dirty yellow hide and a gray mane. She had a manic look in her eye as she levitated a hunting rifle at the two, panic causing her to twitchily switch between them.

“P-please,” the black mare began, “we didn't have anything to do with whatever's going on outside, we’ve been here the whole-”

“SHUTUP,” the old mare shouted, nervously working the bolt action on the rifle and ejecting a perfectly good round. “I don’t know why the fuck you maggots are turnin’ on us, ‘specially after all this hospitality, but I’m not takin’ any chances. Either of you little shits tries anythin’ and I’m puttin’ you down!”

I swore under my breath. I’d been hoping that the one other pony with any scrap of medical training would be willing to help me. That hope dashed, I cautiously drew the pistol on my side, making sure my teeth were safely placed on the grip, and took several deep breaths. I was an ok shot, but I'd only ever practiced on bottles or geckos, never another pony. But those slaves didn’t deserve to die just because the old bat couldn’t keep her shit together. Slowly, I pushed open the door and entered the room.

Luckily, the panicking doctor was too preoccupied with the pair in front of her to pay me any mind. I carefully levelled the sights at the back of Syringe’s head, trying to pretend it was the same bright yellow as the reptilian vermin I practiced on. The slaves were obviously trying to ignore me, forcing Syringe to focus entirely on them.

The sick one suddenly gave me a quick, worried look. Noticing the motion, the yellow unicorn shot a glance back at me and started to turn the rifle around.

“Stop!” I shouted at her, halting the frightened mare’s movement. “Let them go Syringe."

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doin’ you little traitor,” she growled, anger creeping into her voice.

“There’s a jailbreak,” I stated flatly, “and there’s a hell of a lot more of them than there are of us. If they decide that revenge is more important than escaping, then you’re not gonna make getting out of this alive any easier by having their blood on your hooves.”

Doubt started to pass over her face, the barrel of the rifle tipping slightly toward the ground. I was about to continue when the sound of dozens of hooves galloping across metal resounded throughout the room. Taking a quick glance back into the hall, I could see the mob of starving slaves galloping out of the kitchen and toward the exit. The shoddy building groaned at the mass movement, the walls visibly swaying while the noise made the whole structure sound like it was going to collapse.

Panic immediately striking the doctor’s face, she raised the rifle once more at the pair and the trigger began to tighten. The terrified shriek of the sisters echoed in the room.

A shot rang out in the enclosed space, and the left side of the old mare’s skull exploded across the wall. A mosaic of blood, brain, and bone began a slow descent as the corpse collapsed with a thud.

The smoking pistol shook in my grip before my mouth fell open and the weapon clattered to the ground. I was once again grateful for the lack of food I’d eaten as I pitched over and retched. My body shook, and the sting of fresh tears came back to my eyes. I let out a choked sob before covering my face with my hooves and crying out in anguish.

I’d killed somepony. That wasn’t what heroes did, the Masked Matter-Horn never killed a villain. No matter how much she may want to, no matter how logical it might seem, she would find another way. You were supposed to keep yourself above the standards of your enemies, else how were you any different? Superheroes had to do better.

A comforting hoof was placed on my back. I looked up into the sad eyes of the silver mare, her own tears running down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly before throwing her hooves around me in a quick embrace. I didn’t have time to push her away as she swiftly released me and turned back to her sister. I hadn’t had time to notice before, but the two were the complete inverse of each other. One black, with a short silver mane and a silver half circle on her flank. The other silver with long, black curls and the matching half of a black circle. Their eyes were the same brilliant amethyst.

The pair then both looked back at me, gratitude, understanding and… a touch of uncertainty in their gaze. Both of them made nervous glances toward my fallen pistol.

I wiped my eyes, “If… if you hurry, you can probably get past the guards before things settle down”

Elation flooded their faces, “What about you?” the the black mare asked, concern coloring her voice.

I smiled back, “I’m sure things will get back in order soon. My family isn’t going to take this lying down, and they won’t be too forgiving toward any survivors. I’ll need to be here, try and talk them down. They’ll also be needing somepony to help take care of the wounded, I can do that.” I shot another glance at the still form of Syringe, a pool of blood slowly encompassing the remains of her head.

It felt oddly reassuring to tell the lie. Now that the reality of the situation was hitting me, I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen. Oasis might be finished. Even if we did all manage to survive, this deal was our last shot. Without the caps, who knew if the operation could even continue on.

Even still, I tried to reassure them. My shitty lot in life shouldn’t get in the way of their one chance at escaping this place.

The two shared a look before they spoke, "You could come with us."

The statement floored me, "W-what," I stammered.

"You could come with us," the black mare repeated. "You saved my sister and I, there's no way I can repay that, but the least we can do is try. You’re the only one of them that actually seems to care. I don’t know what your motivations might be, but you obviously don’t belong here."

I wasn't expecting that. I barely knew these two, and yet I was almost assured a better life if I went. The thoughts were tantalizing, no more feeding ponies garbage, no more complicity in their enslavement, no more Chance. That thought alone almost had me galloping out of the room with them in tow, but something stopped me. A niggling thought at the back of my mind.

There would, undoubtedly, be a hunting party going after any escapees. As much as I didn’t think my family cared, could I really take the risk that they wouldn’t look extra hard for me? Could I live with myself if I was the reason these two had freedom so unfairly plucked from in front of them?

With a sigh, I slowly shook my head. “Thank you, really, but my place is here. I’ll slow you down, and I can’t take the risk that my family won’t be looking harder for me. This is your only chance, please don’t let me get in the way of that. I’ll be fine.” I tried to plaster on my most reassuring fake smile, hoping that the crushing disappointment in my own decision was well hidden.

The two looked as if they were going to protest, before realizing the truth in my words. They turned toward the door, but the black mare looked back a final time, “My name’s Mist, and this is Echo.”

I stared at them, wide-eyed. I never took the time to learn a slave’s name, merely satisfied to refer to them as stock. It made my daily routine a lot easier when there was at least that much emotional distance between us.

I placed a hoof on my chest, “I-I’m Venture, Venture Forth.”

“I hope we can see you again some day Venture Forth, good luck.” With that, they waved small gestures of farewell before dashing out of the building and into the chaos outside.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to quell the turmoil of emotions lancing through me. When I was reasonably sure I was ok, or at least not about to have a complete mental breakdown in the next few minutes, I turned the office over trying to find as many medical supplies as I could carry. I ended up with a metal box adorned with a bright red cross filled with bandages, healing potions, and pain killing Med-X.

Checking the halls for any sign of the rioting slaves, I crept outside and galloped back toward the bodies. More ponies reached out toward me, and I tried to keep note of which ones looked like they had a decent chance to survive, tossing them healing potions as I went. However, I couldn’t stop, I had a promise to keep.

As I drew near, I saw the Hunter drawing in shallow breaths. I immediately set to helping her, grabbing a plastic bandage and several vibrant purple potions that I poured directly into the wound. Small swirling motes lifted into the air as the healing magic attempted to close the gaping hole.

The mare’s breath caught in her throat, before being expelled in a gasp. She glanced at me, a small grin spreading over her face. “You... came back,” she said weakly.

“I told you I would,” I whispered, trying to concentrate on sealing the wound.

“Might… might’ve been a waste of time,” her voice dropped in volume with each word.

“Don’t talk like that!” I shouted at her. “I told you that you’re gonna be fine and you will be, just hold on!”

Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, “I-I’m real fuckin’ scared kid.”

“Th-that’s ok,” I croaked, my own sobs threatening to collapse the brittle dam that was my resolve, “I get scared all the time. You’ve been brave enough for one day, you go ahead and be scared.”

"Please... h-hold me," she whimpered.

I hesitated, my skin tingling just at the thought of willingly embracing somepony else. But what could I say? Sorry, I really don’t like being touched so if you could just go ahead and die quietly, that would be great?

A burning guilt started to form in my chest until I laid down beside the mare, gently wrapping my legs around her rapidly chilling neck. My skin roared at me from the prolonged contact, but I tried to will my damage away. She needed this.

“It’s ok, I’m here for you,” I whispered.

Her gasping breaths seemed to calm somewhat, although she continued to shake in my grasp.

“What’s your name,” I asked, trying to keep her distracted.

“C-Cinnamon,” she croaked, “Cinnamon Dash.”

“It’s nice to meet you Cinnamon, I’m Venture.”

She didn’t respond at first, her breathing just becoming shallower as we laid together.

After a few seconds she spoke up, “I… I haven’t been a good pony, Venture. I’ve d-done a lot of real rotten sh-shit.” I could feel her tears dripping onto my legs. “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna go to hell.” Cinnamon’s sobs muffled her speech and pained gasps continued to escape her.

“Everypony does what they have to to survive,” I responded, “sometimes we hurt ponies in the process. But I like to think that, as long as we feel regret, then we can at least ask for forgiveness.”

She seemed to ponder that. “I-I’m sorry,” she gasped, “Celestia please, I’m s-so sorry. Please… f-forgive me.”

I squeezed her a little tighter. “It’s ok,” I whispered, “everything’s gonna be ok.”

She gave a pained smile. “Thanks... for tryin’ Venture.” Her whole body fell limp, a final breath escaping her lips.

“NO NO NO!” I shouted, slamming my hooves against the ground. Just like that, any scrap of resolve I still had left, every desire I had to help the ponies trapped out here, my triumphant journey toward becoming a hero, all of it crumbled away. The remains of the tears I’d been trying to hold back came pouring out, dripping onto the still corpse in front of me. I could still hear the cries of pain near me, other ponies that needed my help. But I couldn’t tear myself away, I couldn’t risk failing again.

My teeth grit in disgust, I was so fucking selfish.

A hoof was placed on my back, and I looked up into the resigned eyes of Ambrosia standing behind me. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt, but had dirt and blood spattered against her coat. Despite every scream of my nerves not to, despite the horrid imagery rampaging its way through my mind, I threw my legs around the mare’s chest, burying my face in her soft coat as I wept. My body cried out against the feeling, but an equal desire for some measure of comfort shouted back.

She said nothing, just returned the embrace and let me be.

Ambrosia had to leave after a few minutes. The remaining guards and Hunters had rallied together and were pushing back against the slaves. They’d even begun rounding up any that hadn’t already fled or died.

The wounded were being ferried into the main building. I passed my medical kit to a guard, they’d be able to do more good with it than I could. The injured would need all the supplies they could get without Syringe around.

I approached my shed, wondering if sleep was even within the realm of possibility, when I heard a small sneeze. I froze, my hoof pressed against the door as I turned toward the small crawl-space beneath my room. Lowering myself down, I spied three shrouded forms all attempt to hide themselves from my gaze. After several seconds, my eyes adjusted enough to make out a brilliant pink mane, and an incredibly curly, cyan one. The family from earlier all glared out, uncertainty and fear pervading their expressions as they recognized me.

I swallowed, what was I going to do? The jailbreak was practically over, anypony would realize a group of slaves trying to leave now. I looked around, none of the others were near enough to see, but plenty were still hanging around the gate. I motioned for them to stay hidden as I sprinted toward the nearest section of the wall surrounding the compound. I looked over the shoddy construction, desperately trying to find any vulnerability. As I said, the wall was pretty much just a pile of scrap metal leaning against itself, so creating an exit shouldn’t be too hard. Just needed the right amount strength.

I spied an I-beam tipped rather precariously against a few other pieces. Several gaps were already present, it would just need enough of a push to make them a bit bigger. I galloped back to the slaves, their looks of apprehension now replaced with a subtle hope. Gesturing toward the section of wall, I silently coerced them into following me.

Shooting nervous looks toward the groups of searching guards, I led the slaves to the opening and mimed pushing the beam. The father gave it a close look before nodding slightly, knitting his brow, and surrounding the rusty metal with a bright-pink aura. The wall creaked as he slowly tipped the scrap, creating an exit that I quickly ushered the rest of the family through. The buck continued holding it until his wife and daughter were safe, then slowly began to make his own way toward the opening.

My ears suddenly perked as voices started drawing near. I shot a look toward the gate and, sure enough, a group of slavers were starting to make a surveyance of the wall. I turned back toward the buck, with his concentration on the beam he hadn’t yet noticed. While he was levitating the metal like that, he wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough to make it through before the guards arrived.

Adrenaline started to pump through me as I focussed my own magic on the beam. A pressure like nothing I'd ever felt pressed against my horn. I'd never even attempted lifting something that big, but if I couldn't, the buck and his family were as good as caught.

With that desperation in mind, I focussed as hard as I could, pressing back against the crushing weight on my head with everything I had.

Praying that it was enough, I gasped, "Go... Run... Now!"

The stallion spied the approaching guards and immediately withdrew his aura from the beam. The pressure against me redoubled as the dark blue of my magic struggled against the weight. The white buck galloped toward the hole, diving through just as a blinding pain seared across my skull and the beam fell back with a crash.

Images of the stallion crushed in between the bits of wall immediately filled my thoughts as I sprinted toward the opening, but the whole family was out of sight. I turned back toward the group of slavers, their expressions curious.

"The fuck are you doin' out here kid?" a dark gray buck questioned, suspicion trickling into his voice.

"Oh... you know..." I stalled, desperately trying to come up with an excuse.

"'Fraid I don't," he responded, giving me a more scrutinous look.

"Just... um... well you see."

"Venture," a mare's voice called out. I turned to see Ambrosia coming back toward me, a goofy smile plastered on her face.

"Y'get the wall fixed up yet?" she continued.

"Um... I," I started.

"What d'ya mean, wall fixed," the buck shot back.

"Welp," the mare continued, overly-stressing her accent and making herself sound downright comical. "Boss got worried some o' the escapees might try and make it through the wall, so he asked me to look for any holes. Found one, but I figgered that lil Venture, bein' a unicorn and all, could fix it up likitee split compared to me."

"That... is some of the dumbest shit I have ever heard somepony say," the buck responded. "Why the fuck would you ask a little kid to do the heavy liftin’? What, you need a foal so you can talk to somepony on yer level? You really are a dumb fucking cunt." He barked a laugh before turning toward his group and continuing on their way around the wall.

Once they were out of earshot, the mare turned back to me. "You ok?"

"Yeah... just fine," I gasped, my heartbeat trying to return somewhere close to a healthy speed. "Listen... um... about what I was doing..."

"You mean fixin' the wall," she cut me off.

"N-no... I mean... you shouldn't have to cover for... you might get in trouble if..."

She placed a hoof over my mouth, a serious look on her face. "Fixin'. The. Wall. That's what we were doin', that's all we were doin', and that's the end of the conversation. Ok?"

I looked up at her, there was no way I'd be able to show her how much gratitude I felt at that moment. We quickly embraced again, the crawling feeling somewhat abating, before I turned back toward the gap.

The three shocked expressions stared up at us through the opening. My heart soared as I watched them all, safe and sound, and out of the clutches of Oasis. The father and daughter were shocked into silence, quiet elation spreading over their faces, while the mare sniffed back tears before gesturing me to come closer.

I approached as she removed something tangled up in her short mane, placed it on her hoof, and extended it toward me.

I looked at the item, it was a pendant tied onto a loop of old wire. The metal disk held a familiar-looking symbol, two alicorns swirling around each other in a circle split into a bright yellow and a dark purple. One was a brilliant white that rose with the sun, the other a midnight blue who dove down with the moon. I looked at the small necklace with awe as the grateful mare dropped it into my grasp.

"Celestia bless you,” she rasped, “my hero.”

I was about to protest, not wanting to part her with such a beautiful treasure, but something soft smacked into the side of my head. The white packaging of a Fancy Buck Snake Cake fell to the ground at my hooves. I looked up at the filly, who gave me a big smile, before the whole family waved silent goodbyes and trotted away.

I almost felt a warm radiance coming from the pendant. Ambrosia peeked over my shoulder, a smile crossing her lips as she grabbed the cord and laid it around my neck.

"Well, how're you feelin' hero," she asked softly.

Hero, I mouthed the word to myself.

It was the best feeling I could possibly imagine.

Even the torrential downpour the following morning could do nothing to hamper my mood. However, the ear splitting rattle of the rain slamming into the sheet metal roof could do plenty to get me to wake up. For the first time I could remember, I rose with a smile on my face.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I knew good and well we were undeniably fucked. Months worth of work all hinged on today’s payout, and there was no way in hell we’d find and recapture every slave we lost. Celestia only knew how we’d explain to any surviving slavers that there wasn’t going to be any caps for all their work. That little fact might even make surviving last night pointless, but I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had made a difference, made the wasteland just a little brighter.

I tried to contain my grin as I made my way toward the door. I spared a glance at my dresser, seeing the old music box, now also housing the pendant from last night.

There had to be at least a couple minutes before work, I thought. I knitted my brow, trying to concentrate on the lid, before a sharp pain lanced through my skull. The floor quickly came up to meet me as I collapsed to my side, clutching the agonizing pulsing in my head.

Slowly, I pushed myself to my hooves, a mind numbing migraine beginning to form along my forehead. Lifting that beam last night must have… sprained my horn or something. “Ok, no magic, got it.”

I lifted the lid of the box, the pony and her song quickly following, snatched the pendant from the bottom and threw it around my neck. I’d spent several hours last night trying to find where I’d seen the symbol before. I almost gave up before closing my encylopedia and seeing it on the back cover, right above the words, “Property of The Canterlot Royal Library.”

It was the royal seal of the old government of Equestria. I knew a little history, though I recall the only book I'd had on the subject got pissed on by a drunk guard not too long ago; I stopped reading outside after that. From what I could remember, Equestria used to be a peaceful place before we went to war with the zebras, some big weapons were made, and that’s why the world looks the way it does now. I was pretty shaky on the details, but I’d say I was doing pretty well all things considered.

The same warmth that I felt last night blossomed through my chest as the metal met my skin.

The old pendant was exactly what I’d wanted, a symbol of hope. Hope that anypony could make a difference, no matter how small. All you needed was the right opportunity, and ability to take it.

I yanked my sheet off the bed and threw it around my neck, tying it in a hasty knot. Giggling like a foal, I raced around my room, feeling the makeshift cape flap behind me and the metal disk flop against my chest. I couldn't remember the last time I'd played superhero, and it felt oddly freeing to indulge such a childish whim. To let my imagination run wild with heroic adventures, smiting villains, and saving the innocent. To know, deep down in my heart, I did the right thing.

Happy, that's what it was. It's weird how you can smile, laugh or even want to be a good friend to others, and yet still not really feel happy. Real happiness isn't just a passing feeling, it's something a bit deeper than that. It's your outlook on the world, how you feel it encapsulates you, and being satisfied with what you see. Sure, I might die today, but outlooks are all relative. I've seen a world of shit in my short time of consciousness, but knowing I get to go out after doing one truly good thing, I felt a bit better about my ultimate fate. Who knows, karma might even toss a bone my way.

Starting to get winded, I removed my cape and dropped the pendent back inside the box. I wouldn't dare and try to wear it around Oasis, somepony would start asking questions. Then I threw on my barding, holstered my pistol, and opened the shed.

As the door swung out, the air filled with the sound of a multitude of guns cocking. A quick glance showed about fifteen different guards and Hunters all aiming at me. Chance, Pike, and our father were standing in the center.

Bullwhip was the second biggest pony I'd ever seen, just a head shorter than Pike, but every bit as muscular. His coat was a bright orange and he sported a shoulder-length, sky blue mane. On his flank was a depiction of his namesake, a cracking whip. The look on his face was usually one of bored contempt, only paying as much attention to anything as was absolutely necessary.

Today, however, he had what I can only think to describe as a very shooty look. He had on a forced looking smile, and his eyes were wide and manic with the irises shrunk down to small dots. An old caravan shotgun was balanced against his shoulder.

"Mornin' boy," he called, very thinly veiled anger pervading his commanding speech.

"H-h...ha... h...," I tried to speak, the shock of such a quick onset terror froze every part of me. I desperately tried to get my thoughts working again, to figure something out, but I was so scared.

"Sleep well?" he continued, beginning a slow trot toward me. "Bet ya did, last night was... pretty nuts, right?"

He reached the entrance to my shed, put a leg around my neck, and hauled me outside. I was thrown to the dirt as his hooves grasped either side of my head, forcing me to look at a gap in the firing line.

If I wasn't on the verge of a complete mental breakdown already, what was beyond the armed ponies certainly pushed me over the edge. Though dirty and with huge clumps missing, it was impossible to mistake the vibrant pink mane of the father I’d helped last night. His white coat was patched brown and splattered with red, and one eye was purple and swelled shut. His horn was broken off, and a slow stream of blood poured from the jagged stump.

"Found this lot," my father shouted in my ear, "earlier this mornin'. Your big brother Pike has been workin' his ass off all night tryin' to round up our stock. Brought back twenty, ain't that nice?"

He slammed my head against the ground. My ear rang and everything started to spin, a metallic taste spread over my tongue. "Ya wanna know how much twenty slaves is gonna get us on our deal with Paradise? Jack," he slapped the side of my head, "Fuckin'," smack, "Shit!" He finished with a strike to my right ear. An agonizing jolt of pain shot its way through me and I could feel a warm stream pour down the side of my head.

"You recognize this stock, boy?" Bullwhip demanded, his voice slightly muffled from the ringing in my ear. Slowly, I pushed myself up, a continual flood of tears streaming down my face. The rain, at least, hid that little fact.

I looked back at the buck, meeting his good eye. We shared the same moment of clarity, neither of us wanted to give up the other. Deep in my heart, however, I knew he had a lot more to lose than me. It would just take the right threat to overwhelm his gratitude if his family's lives were also on the line.

My dad got tired of the silence as he delivered a final kick to my stomach. I cried out at the strike, clutching myself and gasping for air. Ignoring me, Bullwhip signaled at another portion of the line.

The indicated slavers parted to show the wife and daughter of the beaten slave, each of them with a rifle levitated to their head.

Turning back toward the stallion, Bullwhip called, "This the kid that helped you escape?"

The buck continued to stare at me, a feeling of hopelessness crossing over his face.

The Boss waited a couple more seconds before motioning toward the mother and daughter again. A hunting rifle barrel was shoved into the filly's mouth, her eyes widening in terror at the sensation. The bolt-action twisted, cracking the silence.

The buck gave an anguished shout before bellowing, "YES… yes, it was him... please... don't hurt her!" A sob wracked his form before he shot me a woeful look.

"Thank ya for your honesty," my father called, sounding oddly calm. Then he swiped a hoof across his neck.

A white, unicorn mare nodded as she lowered her single shotgun, pulled back the hammer, and blew the buck's head off his shoulders. Time almost seemed to slow as I held his gaze. The slug sailed through him, swollen eye splattering and the other falling free of his shattered skull. I could just make out the tormented cries of his family while the corpse crumpled to the ground.

I slumped over in shock, begging my brain to wake me up, to let me know that this was all just some fucked up nightmare. I wasn't given much time before I felt myself get dragged back to my hooves as Bullwhip stuck out his front leg. I flinched before realizing he wasn't about to hit me.

"Gimme the gun, boy," he stated evenly, no hint of emotion entering his voice.

I shakily grasped my nine-millimeter and placed it in my father's hooves. He brought it up to eye level, and worked the release on the magazine. He slid a hoof along the bullets, dropping each round to the wet dirt with a splash. Reaching the end, he worked the pistol's slide, ejecting the final round.

"Seems you're a bullet short, ya join in the fightin' last night too?" he asked, a real questioning tone in his voice.

"Y-yes," I squeaked.

"Hmmm, strange thing that. Seems there was only one death by a caliber that small." He lowered himself down, bringing his mouth right next to my head, "Ya wouldn't happen to know what happened to Syringe now, would ya boy?"

My breathing came in pained, panicked gasps. My heartbeat slammed in my chest, causing a painful throb in my damaged ear.

The Boss just smiled, before he motioned toward the mother and daughter. A blue buck, the one that had held the rifle in the filly's mouth, started leading them closer toward us.

As they drew nearer, another voice cried out, "I told ya pop, I knew that little shit had somethin' to do with all this," Chance began. "I bet he planned the whole jailbreak, thinkin' he's like some lil' fuckin' superhero."

"Interestin'," Bullwhip called back.

"Yeah, and I bet that stupid cunt he’s always hangin’ ‘round with was in on it. Some of the bucks says these two were hangin’ round the wall last night, actin' real peculiar," my brother smugly responded.

“Which cunt?”

“Lil’ hard of hearin’,” the brown buck answered, flicking a hoof over his own ear.

“Ah, right. Well, I think she’s gotten ‘nuff warnin’s, don’t ya think son?”

“Most definitely, pop,” Chance responded, a sickening glee soaking his every word.

"Now boy," Bullwhip stated, referring back to me. "You’ve made some real bad fuckin’ decisions, but I like to think I'm a reasonable stallion, and I wanna give ya a chance to make a smart one.”

My mouth gaped open, what could he possibly have in mind?

As if on cue, the mare and her daughter arrived in front of us. Casually, my father took a revolver off his hip, and let it fall with a clatter to the mud at my hooves.

"There's one bullet," he stated flatly, "one of these cunts is gonna be helpin' us… blow off a little steam,” cries of approval resounded throughout the crowd. I felt sick to my stomach, this is how Bullwhip was planning to placate them? Well, this and giving them somepony to blame for fucking up the deal with Paradise.

My father held up a silencing hoof. “But the other is gonna help prove you're really with us. Pick one." He finished by kicking the gun a little closer.

Shaking, I started to lift the weapon, turning into the terrified gazes of the mother and daughter. The mare put a hoof around the filly, pulling her close and trying to shield her as much as possible. Anguished cries still resounded from the pair as I levelled the sights at them.

No, I thought, the first clear one I’d had in the last several minutes. This was wrong, this isn’t what heroes did. They didn’t just give up when things got tough, they found another way or sacrificed themselves before putting the innocent at risk.

Through my tear-blurred vision, I could barely make out the two slaves in front of me. I wiped a hoof across my eyes, desperately trying to think of a way to get all of us out of this alive.

One bullet wasn’t going to be of much use, and I wasn't exactly thrilled at the odds. There was also no negotiating with my family, my short life had at least taught me that much. Everything seemed so hopeless, but there had to be a way, superheroes always found a way.

Suddenly, a voice called out in the tense silence.

“Howdy everypony,” Ambrosia stumbled into view. She was balancing half a bottle of whiskey on the end of her nose, doing her absolute darndest to make sure it didn’t fall. The mare seemed completely oblivious to what was going on. “Wha’s all the commotion ab-.” She cut herself off as she spied me, the bottle toppling off her nose and plopping into the mud.

“Well now,” the Boss called, “ain’t this for-fuckin’-tuitous. Saved us the hassle of huntin’ you down.” He motioned toward a few other slavers, and they immediately surrounded the, probably, hungover mare.

“Wh-wha’s goin’ on y'all?” she asked nervously, backing away from the assortment of guns now staring her down.

“I think ya know damn well,” Bullwhip chided, absently gesturing at the remains of the family the two of us had helped last night.

“Welp… fuck,” she replied flatly, a grim resignation entering her voice.

My dad smirked, “‘Bout sums it up. Chance!”

“Yeah pop?” Chance replied, bounding up to our father with an almost foal-like glee. He seemed to know exactly what Bullwhip was about to ask, and I had a morbid feeling that I did too.

“While I’m seein’ to your brother, you mind teachin’ this little cunt what happens to ponies who steal from me?”

The usual horrifying smile spread over my brother’s lips, “With pleasure, pa.” Then, my brother galloped toward the slowly retreating Ambrosia before spinning, and delivering a full-strength applebuck right into the mare’s chest. She collapsed to the ground, wheezing as the painful blow forced all of the air out of her lungs.

Chance muttered a few words to the surrounding slavers, before each of them took hold of one of Ambrosia’s legs, forcing her onto her back, and spread them in front of Chance’s gaze.

“I’ve been waitin’ a good long while to get my hooves on you, cunt,” he shouted before his tongue actually dropped out of his mouth, panting.

Ambrosia, a look of complete calm on her face, stated without the barest hint of an accent, “Then keep waiting.”

Before I knew what was happening, she slipped her rear hoof out of an indigo mare’s grasp, and delivered her own powerful kick right into the slaver’s muzzle. She cried out in a high-pitched yelp before releasing the orange pony and falling to her side. Meanwhile, the captive mare wrestled with the others, throwing her free leg around the neck of a green buck grasping the other, and twisted her whole core. A sickening snap emanated from their direction as the lifeless slaver fell to the ground.

The two other bucks struggled to keep a hold of her front legs as Ambrosia struck out with vicious kicks to their sides. Chance watched, a look of sadistic amusement crossing his face, before pulling out the revolver on his side and putting a hole in my friend’s rear leg.

She screamed, the cry swiftly muzzled when my brother delivered a buck to her mouth. Another nauseating snap filled the air as her jaw hung limp.

“Now, now,” Chance venomously spat at Ambrosia, “how’re we gonna have any fun if you keep goin’ on like that. Best thing for you now would be to just lay back… “ he spread her rear legs again, putting extra pressure on the bullet-wound when she tried to move, “... and let ol’ Chance take real good care of you.” He let out a dark cackle before burying his head in Ambrosia’s groin.

A gasp of surprise left her lips before she shouted, “‘Huck y-,” but cut herself off with a piercing shriek of pain. Chance rose again, his mouth now slathered in blood, and spat a spray at the mutilated mare. His perverse giggles intermixed with her anguished screams before he delved back between her legs.

I looked on in horror at the fate befalling my friend. I couldn’t move, and my thoughts ground to a standstill. I knew I had to do something, but what? The pistol was still in my grasp, and everypony seemed to have their eyes glued to the gruesome show.

Sacrifice, I thought to myself. If I couldn’t save everypony, shouldn’t I at least try to save one? One who’d put herself at risk to help me, who made me feel like I’d mattered, who tried to convince me that I could do more than survive, that I could be better.

Blinking the tears out of my eyes, I spared a final glance at the mother and daughter. Both of them were trying to hide their eyes from the gruesome sight. There was no way I could save all of us, I just prayed that what I was about to do wouldn’t make their future any worse than it already was.

My father had a look of sickening pride plastered on his face as he watched, but wasn’t paying me any mind.

The pistol’s sights lined up along my brother’s head as he rose to prepare himself for whatever other heinous acts he had in mind. I bit my tongue, trying to aim as well as I could. The distance was farther than anything I’d ever had luck shooting before, but with the same determination I felt lifting the beam last night, I knew what had to be done. I couldn’t miss, I had to save her.

The gunshot cracked through the disgusting discourse as an explosion of gore burst through Chance’s head.

The brown buck fell to the ground, shrieking in agony and clutching at his right eye. The slavers around him were in shock as Ambrosia met my gaze. There were tears streaming down her face, and a look of surprise as she spied the smoking gun in my mouth. I let it clatter to the ground.

“Run!” I shouted.

She seemed hesitant. A look of heartfelt concern crossed her face despite the horrors she’d just been forced to endure.

I couldn’t give her time to think about me, she had to get moving, “Run you fucking idiot, RU-”

The Boss’ kick to my side swiftly silenced the rest of my plaintive cry. Ambrosia, my words spurring her, smashed her unwounded leg into the hock of one of the bucks holding her down, grasped the pistol on his side, and blew a hole through the chest of the other. With a display of elegance I didn’t think her injuries would allow, she spun her rear legs, flipping herself onto her hooves, and wove in between the shocked slavers.

Several shouts of panic spread throughout the crowd as Pike and a few others broke away and made chase. I desperately wanted to know she was safe, that she could make it. But my father was pressing a hoof against my neck, keeping me pinned against the ground as the group left my line of sight.

“Wrong choice boy,” he muttered threateningly before delivering several more powerful kicks to my side. I tried to gasp for breath as the sound of cracking accompanied one of the worst pains I’d ever felt. Each blow pervaded my entire consciousness, making itself the only sensation I could focus on. The edges of my vision began to blacken, choked gurgles the only noise I was capable of making.

I heard several more gunshots from the other side of the compound, and I prayed that they didn’t find their mark. After what seemed like an eternity, Pike marched back into view with considerably fewer ponies than what he’d taken to hunt down Ambrosia.

“Well?” our father asked, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

Pike looked at the ground, “Got away,” he muttered.

“So… what you’re tellin’ me is you can’t hunt down one pony. This particular pony bein’ the cunt that helped lose us the payday yesterday and just got your brother mutilated. That sound about right? You’re, honestly, that much of a fuckin’ retard?” The vitriol coloring Bullwhip’s voice made the giant pony seem to collapse into himself. Only our father could make someone as intimidating as Pike feel smaller than a radroach.

“W-w-w-want us to chase?” a stutter I rarely heard cracking his speech.

“Not yet,” our father sighed as he placed a hoof over his eyes, “secure the gate, and watch the rest of the stock.” He turned back toward me, “I’ve gotta go deal with this.”

“Let me do it pa,” Chance shrieked. He stumbled over to us, breathing heavily, as several other gunponies tried to lead him away, but he shoved them off. He clutched his right eye, a steady stream of deep crimson pouring down his cheek. “I gotta put this lil' shit in his place. Pay him back, with interest, for what he did to me!" he moved the hoof.

The bullet had entered the side of his head and exited through the socket. All that remained of his right eye was an enormous, bleeding cavity. I was shocked that he was still alive, nonetheless standing and talking.

"I know all his buttons. I can make it hurt for a long time,” he finished.

I shuttered. Letting Chance put his hooves on me after what I’d done filled me with more terror than I knew I was capable of feeling. Weird, it seemed like every time I thought I’d reached the pinnacle of horror, my brother always seemed to find a way to push that bar a little further.

“No,” Bullwhip stated flatly as he stood in front of me, “he’s my son.”

My heart fluttered gently in my chest. That was the first time my father had ever said that. Even with the situation being as it was, a small spark of hope erupted in me. Maybe, in some small way, he did care.

“I decide how he dies,” he finished, every part of me chilling at his words. “Throw him in the Pit.”

I didn’t struggle as a few other slavers grabbed onto my legs, dragging me through the wet mud as we made our way across the compound. I could still hear Chance loudly whining at Bullwhip, but I was satisfied just being pulled away from him.

Despite it all, I felt a few grateful tears slide down my face.

Ambrosia was safe. My first exploit into heroism might have ended catastrophically, but at least I didn’t get my only friend killed in the process. She was hurt, hurt really bad. But wounds, even those that physically and emotionally deep, had a chance to heal. I chalked that up to one life saved, one act of valor I’d given the wasteland.

All it cost was my life.

Pitch blackness completely surrounded me.

The Pit was a cavern somepony had discovered near the edge of the compound. It may have been some sort of crude, pre-war fallout shelter at one point. There was a round hatch with a wheel lock up top, the interior lock having been removed, and a few sparse shelves and boxes that had been raided years ago. The steady sound of trickling water exuded throughout the whole space, originating from a small creek near one of the walls.

These days, the Pit was used as a sort of solitary confinement for unruly slaves. A few days without food, clean water, or even light was usually enough to crush even the most rebellious spirits. The water flowing through the cavern mostly just helped keep the prison semi-clean of waste. Seeing as how most ponies probably didn’t want to be stuck in here with their own shit, they made use of the creek. It was so irradiated, though, that even a few mouthfuls would probably liquify your insides. There’d been more than one occasion where I’d been forced to clean up the remains of slaves that had chosen that particular way out. Another genius practice of Oasis.

I couldn’t tell how long it’d been. No light penetrated into the cavern, and the hatch hadn’t opened since they threw me down here. It had to have been at least hours… or maybe days… weeks? No, I was still alive, couldn’t be weeks… right?

I felt like I was losing my mind. What were they going to do to me? Did they want me to die of thirst, kill myself with the water, wait for me to totally lose it and bash my head against the wall? I don’t know if I slept, there are gaps in my memory, and I think I feel myself waking up. I can never tell, it’s always dark.

Every so often, I tried my horn again, praying that I could work out some kind of light spell. The pain was easing, but only weak sparks simmered out.

There were also a few loose rocks littered around the floor, the smallest of which fit in my hoof. Trying to preoccupy myself with magic practice seemed better than just sitting around, waiting for whatever punishment would befall me.

So, I began my imprisonment in the Pit trying to lift rocks. The blue aura of my will flickered around them, shaking slightly, but not rising. I tried again and again, attempting to tap into the same determination that… well, that got me thrown down here I suppose. Every attempt was met with a little more progress, one of the smaller stones eventually lifted a few centimeters off the ground before clattering back down.

It might seem helpless, it might seem like a waste of time, but there was nothing else to do. Once the terror had faded slightly, the sheer boredom was almost enough to send me over the edge. I screamed and pleaded with the hatch, begging to be let out, or to just let me talk to somepony for a little while.

Everything felt so hopeless.

Luckily, the physical pain I was feeling was more than enough to take my attention off trivial things like thirst, hunger, and emotional trauma. Boy did not being able to see really increase the sensations I was feeling. I knew I at least had a few cracked ribs, if they weren’t outright broken. It was getting hard to breathe, and I could feel the bruising every time I moved. Just getting around was starting to become agony.

Soon enough, I couldn’t even bring myself to practice as even shifting position became more and more difficult.

Then I spent some time thinking about what had happened outside. Primarily, I thought about Ambrosia. How had she learned to fight like that? The moves she displayed looked trained, a far cry from the mindless scraps I usually saw ponies getting into. Also, what had happened to her accent, was Ambrosia even her real name, who was she?

The pain began to overbear my thoughts as well. Eventually, I couldn’t concentrate on anything aside from trying to find a way to breath without a mini-nuke going off in my chest.

I was just about hysterically rocking back and forth on the cavern floor when the hatch finally opened. I yelped with glee and limped toward the light, just wanting to see another pony’s face. A gunshot rang out and planted in the ground right at my hooves, sending me backpedaling.

“Stay right there,” Bullwhip’s voice called down. I immediately sat where I stood, gazing up through the hole. I couldn’t see my father, but a pony with a bag over their head stood on the edge. The brightness of the day, even without the sun, hid any other features as I shielded my eyes.

Suddenly, they lurched forward as if shoved by someone behind them. A terrified shriek erupted as the bagged pony plunged several meters to the sandy floor beneath the hatch. It landed with a harsh thud, crying out before moaning in pain. A loud screech sounded from above as the metal dome slammed back shut, plunging the two of us into complete darkness.

I tried to feel my way over to the pony, hoping that they weren’t hurt too bad from the fall. The anguished gasps guided me across the cavern until I felt a soft, warm form under my hoof, their chest rising slowly as they breathed. Moving my hooves up, I grasped the bag and pulled it off the pony’s head.

Finally, I knitted my brow and tried my light spell one more time. The same sparks from before toppled to the floor, but I kept at it. The desire to see somepony, talk to somepony, demanded that I make the spell work. A slow ache started to form beneath my horn as I concentrated, but I could see a faint glow through my eyelids.

My knowledge of magical theory was just as limited as my history, but I think I had a handle on the basics. Our world is infused with a magical energy and every living thing within it has some sort of connection. How they are able to utilize that relation is dependent on their race.

Earth ponies, for example, are gifted with an innate bond to nature. Their abilities in growing crops, sense of direction, and astounding strength, dexterity and sure-footedness simply cannot be matched. Pegasi are closely connected with the sky, giving them incredible skill in controlling weather patterns. They, of course, also possess the gift of flight. As long as a pegasus still has their wings, despite whatever condition they might be in and as long as the bones are intact, they will continue to be able to fly.

Unicorns are a bit of the odd one out. There’s no general gift that every one of them share, aside from their natural connection to that same magical energy that imbues the talents of every other race. Sure, there are the basics like levitation or creating light. However, their talent is described in how they can bend that energy to their will. Every other race merely accepts the effect our world has on them, while unicorn’s primarily focus on how they can change it.

I don’t know how I stacked up to other unicorns my age as far as ability was concerned, but I still had issues with the basics. Creating light is definitely one of the first spells we should be able to learn. Essentially, when a unicorn casts a spell, they collect a certain amount of the world’s natural magic within themselves and, from there, can modify the effects it will have once it’s released. The process involved in creating light was incredibly simple. All it involved was collecting energy to such a level of concentration that the aura that naturally forms around our horns during spellcasting creates a visible brightness. It’s not even really a matter of changing that energy, just soaking up enough of it.

The glow grew more intense, whilst the aching in my head followed suit. I opened my eyes, trying to keep the subtle, blue light going. A ring of illumination surrounded us, splashing dimly against the walls of the little cavern. I looked down at the pony at my hooves.

The brown mare I’d helped escape was cast in the blue light. She was clutching her side and her eyes were sealed shut as she moaned. I shook her shoulder slightly, trying to get her attention. Her eyes slowly peeled open and immediately widened in horror as she recognized me.

“Can you move your hooves,” I asked quietly, my voice cracking from a mixture of pain and thirst. Her reaction confused me, but I shook the feeling off.

Without saying a word, she removed the hoof clutching her side, allowing me to try and assess the damage. I gently pressed around where she’d been holding, watching her reaction closely. She winced slightly, but that was all. Hopefully that meant there would only be some bruising and she hadn’t suffered any serious break.

“It’s gonna hurt for a while,” I croaked, “but you should be alright.”

She nodded, the look of dread never leaving her face.

I offered her a hoof. She grasped onto it and let me pull her upright.

At least, that’s what I tried to do. The second her weight yanked against my leg, every part of my chest felt like it’d suddenly caught fire. I cried out in pain, and dropped like a rock to the cavern floor. The fall, of course, only exacerbated the wounds as I screamed in agony. The sensation was overwhelming, and I felt a familiar blackness creep into my vision before I lost my concentration on the light spell. We were plunged into darkness yet again.

I coughed and gasped, trying to push the pain away, but it was no use. Sputtering on the ground, I tried to form a coherent plea for help, but only agonized gasps escaped me.

The mare stirred and I could hear her stumble toward me. A cautious hoof touched my side.

“Are… are you ok,” she asked.

“N-n-n… n-no,” I wheezed, every attempt to get the word out sending another barrage of pain through my chest.

She removed her hoof and then it sounded like she began pacing. I knew there wasn’t much she could do, without any potions or Med-X it was incredibly unlikely I could even get back to my hooves. The pain was just too much, and that didn’t even begin to touch on what internal injuries I was making worse by moving. If I didn’t get something to heal me soon, I wasn’t going to make it much longer.

Then why even bother throwing me down here, I thought to myself, and why was she here? None of it made any sense, and that mystery was still the most terrifying part of this punishment.

As I lay on the floor, I could just make out the mare muttering to herself.

“... why did it have to be him, he’s just kid. But he’s already in so much pain, I’d be helping him, right? I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but I can’t let Juniper down. Just breathe, Lullaby, do it for her. Do it for,” she paused, a quiet sob interrupting her speech, “Sugar Drop.”

The clop of her hooves resounded throughout the cavern as she approached me again, “Celestia please,” I heard her whisper, “forgive me.”

I sensed her kneel down beside me, before her front legs wrapped around my chest and pulled me into her lap. A pained gasp was the only noise I was capable of making as the embrace caused an explosion in my chest. I tried to choke out my distress, begging her to stop, until she slowly started running a hoof through my mane.

The pain withdrew slightly, and the usual crawling I felt at somepony’s touch seemed distant. A subtle warmth started to spread across my wounds as the strange sense of relief exuding from the mare filled me.

It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Even though I could still feel my injuries, they didn’t seem to matter as much. I felt so incredibly content and comforted.

Then, she started to hum. I couldn’t place the tune, but it was soft and quiet. After a few seconds, she began to sing.

“Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy h-head,” a small sob cracked her speech at the last word. “Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.” Several tears splashed against my face.

I began to feel myself slipping into unconsciousness, the glow of affection encompassing me. The loving tone of her lullaby made sleep sound so desirable. This is what it must feel like to have somepony truly care, somepony who wants nothing more than to comfort you. What having a mother must feel li…

My thoughts cut off as the singing stopped and she moved her legs up, resting them below my chin.

“I-I…,” she croaked, “I’m so sorry."

Her legs tightened around my throat.

My relaxed breathing started to come in panicked chokes, the pressure only increasing as I tried to struggle against the mare. Shock and confusion muddled my thoughts, but the only thing I could focus on was trying to get air into my burning lungs. I choked louder and, every time I did so, the pain in my chest roared back with full force.

“It… it’ll all be over soon,” she cried out, “please, just let go.” She began humming again, though far louder and with a panicked pace.

I thrashed and pounded against her flesh, my need for survival forcing me to endure the pain.

Something moved underneath my rear hoof. Trying to center my rapidly fading consciousness, I focussed on the object. The aura of my magic surrounded it, something big, heavy, and round.

Darkness suddenly assaulted my mind as it attempted to faint. I cried out, forcing myself to stay awake by focussing on my pain. The agony spreading throughout every facet of my body was almost more than I could endure, but it kept me conscious, kept me alive.

My concentration returned to the rock, the faint glow of my magic surrounding it, and I yanked my horn toward the ceiling. I could feel it shaking against the ground, but staying put. My teeth gritted with effort, I let out a final shout, pushing every ounce of torment and grief into fuel for the spell. The rock began to rise.

POP!

A blinding flash seared across my vision, and the sound of something sailing through the air at high speed resounded above me. A wet thunk quickly followed as the pressure around my neck eased and I fell to the floor, sputtering for breath.

The inferno in my chest made it hard, but the encroaching unconsciousness seemed to retreat as oxygen filled my aching lungs. The sound of sodden gurgles echoed behind me as I turned and ignited my light spell.

Lullaby lay on the rocky cave floor next to a blood-spattered rock. The left side of her skull was caved in, and the pool forming around it turned a deep purple in my waning light. Her left eye dangled free from the remains of its socket, a continual stream pouring from the gaping cavity. The bubbling in her throat continued as she began to shake.

My lower jaw quivered in shock before I pitched to my side and vomited the remains of last night’s snack cake onto the floor. I fell over, placing me right beside the dying mare.

“W-why?” I pleaded.

“Juniper,” she wheezed, “I c-can’t… see. I’m so… sorry sweetheart. I tried.”

She convulsed several more times before finally lying still.

The horror of what I’d done slammed into me, wrenching an agonized wail from my throat. “WHY?!” I screamed at the corpse, confusion and anguish coursing through me. My hooves slammed against the ground, the impacts echoing continuously throughout the cavern.

I sobbed into the floor, “W-why…?”

Why can’t I be a hero?

Voices

Content Warning:This chapter contains a scene that may be disturbing to some readers. For those wishing to skip this scene, I will include a symbol (#####) after the paragraphs preceding and following it.

Fallout Equestria: Insanity's Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 2: Voices

"I find it frightening - to awaken and be unsure if everything you remember about life not being just part of a dream. Waking means I've slept, and sleep dissolves what certainty I have left.”

Fifteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

~~~~~

The warmth of the morning sun bathed my bed in golden light, pleasantly heating the blankets embracing me. My feather pillow felt like a cloud, and it was doing a fine job in convincing me that waking up could wait just a few more minutes.

A mare’s voice outside the door had other plans. “Venture, sweetheart, it’s time to get up.”

“Mrrumf,” I grunted back, pulling the soft cotton over my head.

“Come on now, don’t make me have to start singing,” a mock threatening tone entered her speech, and she elongated the last word in a sing-songy voice.

“Mrrmf… five more minutes,” I mumbled, further securing myself within the blankets piled on top of me.

“Ok, you asked for it,” she responded as I heard the door swing open. The sound of somepony drawing in a large breath resounded throughout the room. I grasped a pillow near me and pulled it around my ears in anticipation.

“Good morning, good morning,” she began. The sweet melody that was her voice hammered against my post-waking stupor, “The sun has risen high.”

“Good morning, good morning,” the covers were yanked off of me, and the pillow was plucked out of my grasp, “It's time to rise, don't be shy.”

“Good morning, good morning,” she began to increase in volume, and the clop of her hooves boomed like a drum on the oak floor, “Open your eyes, let's not delay.”

“Good morning, good morning.”

“Time to get up and greet the…” the singing trailed off, and I felt the warmth of a magical aura surrounding me, lifting my sluggish form into the air and gently peeling open my eyes.

“Day,” she finished, drawing out the last word in a mellow whisper as she pulled me close, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

The unicorn in front of me was stunning. Her tidily brushed mane flowed along her back in a brilliant, deep purple and periwinkle sheen. Her royal blue coat managed a healthy glow in the morning sun, and the matching eyes shimmered like facets on a fine diamond. A deep pink heart adorned her flank, struck through with a wavy, purple eighth-note. Nightlife was, truly, a mare to behold.

“Ok, mom, I’m up,” I slurred sleepily, trying to hide my eyes from the brightness assaulting them. I took a quick look around my room, seeing the small and ever-so inviting bed sitting unmade behind me. The rest of the space was standard fare for a ten year old: a number thirty-one Hoofington Reapers jersey hung in its frame, several event posters for The Wonderbolts had been plastered on the walls, and a giant panoramic depiction of Maretropolis hung above the bed. The six forms of the Power Ponies were illuminated by a skylight, and shown keeping watchful eye over the cityscape beneath them.

The floor was littered with various empty plates, dirty cups, toys and books. In fact, the only part of the room in any sort of order was a shelf beside the large, round window. Sealed in plastic sleeves, all twenty-four issues of Power Ponies were displayed lovingly beside each other. That entire portion of the room was meticulously clean of any dust or debris, and every comic looked brand new.

Turning back toward the smiling mare, I gave her a grumpy scowl until she let out a small laugh and lowered me back down to the floor.

“What’s the deal, mom?” I asked accusingly. “Why did you have to wake me up so early?”

The smile only widened as her eyes narrowed mysteriously.

“You mean you don’t remember?” a look of fake hurt crossed her features, whilst a hoof raised in front of her heart.

“Remember what?” I sputtered back, frustration and confusion pervading my words.

“Or... could I have forgotten to tell you?” she gasped questioningly. Her hoof rose to beneath her chin as she seemed to mull something over.

“Tell me what?!” I almost shouted, reigning myself in at the last second. I loved my mom, but she had a pretty frustrating sense of humor sometimes.

“Well, if we’re going to be raising our voices, maybe I should just head over to the skyport alone,” she stated huffily.

“Wait,” I did shout, “why would we go to the skyp-...” I cut myself off as I put two and two together. “Dad?”

The smile returned as she nodded.

“Dad’s home?!” I shouted in glee as I leapt back onto my mattress, bouncing on the creaky springs as a warm radiance swelled inside me.

“Ok, ok, calm down,” Nightlife spoke comfortingly, plucking me off the bed with her magic once again.

“But I thought dad’s deployment wasn’t ending for another month,” I asked, after settling back down on the ground.

“After you went to bed last night, we got word that his unit is coming back today, and I thought it would make a nice little morning surprise,” she turned back toward the door. “So get ready and come down for breakfast, we’ll leave as soon as you’re done.”

Once she was out of sight, I jumped on the mattress a few more times before turning toward a poster on my wall. Five Wonderbolts all stood at attention in their blue and yellow uniforms, saluting off into the distance. The closest was a steel-gray buck with a deep red mane. I touched the shiny paper, drawing my hoof down the pegasus’s form. An ornate placard was printed beneath each pony, and the one under the buck read, “Sergeant Fire Storm.”

“I missed you dad,” I whispered quietly.

After a quick mane and teeth brushing, I raced down to the kitchen. The smell of freshly-made pancakes permeated the air.

The small room was painted a warm yellow, and had oaken cabinets on each wall. A big bay window, set in the breakfast nook, let in the morning light. On the wall beside the table hung a framed family photo from our trip to Horseshoe Bay last year. It showed me sitting on my dad’s shoulders, laughing as we all walked down the beach. Mom was smushing an ice cream cone into the gray buck’s muzzle.

Waiting for me on the table was a huge stack of fluffy, golden treats, drizzled with syrup, whipped cream, and fresh berries. As much as I enjoyed savoring mom’s cooking, there simply wasn’t time today. Without any utensils, I beset upon breakfast, shoveling sweet mouthfuls of gooey pancake down my throat.

“Woah, woah,” Nightlife called as she entered the room, “slow down, honey.”

“Can’t,” I responded quickly, trying to overcome the annoying physical limitations of my jaw.

Mom giggled softly as she took her own seat at the table, a steaming cup of coffee and an apple floating gently beside her. “Well, at least use your utensils.”

I sighed, annoyed at the interruption as I reached my hooves toward the fork and knife set beside me.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Nightlife chided as she motioned toward my horn.

Nodding with understanding, I knitted my brow in concentration as the cutlery lifted into the air and dived into the dwindling stack of pancakes. The knife smoothly slid across each portion while the fork nimbly brought it to my mouth, allowing me to make short work of the remaining pastries.

“Very good, sweety,” Nightlife said approvingly, “Celestia’s school will be so lucky to have you.”

I beamed from the compliment. It’d been a rough road trying to get me accepted into Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and I was almost past the cutoff age. My parents had told me that the rising tensions with the zebras had all but stopped any new applicants from being accepted to a royal facility. Luckily, through dad’s military status and mom’s connections in the royal music circles, we’d finally received my acceptance letter the day before Fire Storm had been sent on deployment.

It’d been six months since then.

Mom didn’t seem too keen on discussing what it was, exactly, that dad and the rest of The Wonderbolts had been sent to do. We were both worried about him, each scrap of news we heard on the radio only deepening our concern. Every day it was another failed peace conference, rejection of new trade sanctions, or any number of minor conflicts erupting between ponies and zebras.

Rumors of some impending, major outbreak of violence was the hot topic of Equestria, and the talk was only exacerbated from the kidnapping several months ago. A group of ponies had been taken by zebra pirates, and it seemed incredibly unlikely for the conflict to come to a peaceful end. The zebra’s Caesar appeared to be trying to help rescue them, but was refusing any talk of Equestrian forces entering zebra lands.

The whole state of affairs just confused me. Why wouldn’t we want to work together with the zebras, and what did they have against us? I knew a few, and they all seemed to be pretty nice folk. It always seemed like adults had to fight over everything these days, and nopony would even say why. Every inquiry I made was just met with, ‘You’ll understand when you’re older,’ but it all seemed crystal clear to me. The zebras were our friends, and if you did something to upset your friends, you apologized and moved on. Why did everypony need to make things so complicated?

As the final bites of pancake disappeared into my mouth, I raced toward the door, staring expectantly at Nightlife. She gave a warm smile before swallowing the final bites of apple, and setting her empty mug back on the table.

“Ok, ok, we’re going. But you’re cleaning this up when we get home.”

I nodded enthusiastically. As much as I despised it, not even the threat of dish duty could smother my excitement.

Nightlife lifted an incredibly ornate, Rarity-branded sunhat onto her head before moving toward me. I was practically vibrating in anticipation. Summer was almost over, but at least I’d get to have dad back for a little while before I left for school.

Just as her purple aura surrounded the knob, a thundering knock sounded from the door.

My excitement overflowed, dad must have come home on his own. Mouth agape in a huge grin, I turned back toward mom.

She looked confused, but cautiously nodded and motioned me forward. My own blue magic encompassing the knob, I twisted it and threw the door open, ready to pounce into my dad’s outstretched hooves.

Captain Spitfire and First Lieutenant Soarin both stood at the door. Their usual Wonderbolts attire was replaced with somber, purple dress-uniforms. The Captain also sported a pair of reflective sunglasses.

I took a few steps back, my smile transforming into an expression of awe. I'd only ever seen the two senior Wonderbolts during air shows, never had I met them in person. Dad always talked about what an honor serving under these two had been, and that reverence he'd shown now struck me into stupefied silence.

But where was he?

My mental image of the two powerful pegasi was shaken slightly as I noticed their morbid expressions, and the shimmering remains of tears near the edge of the Lieutenant's eyes.

"Hey there kid," the sky-blue buck began, his voice cracking slightly as he extended a hoof. I slowly grasped it, returning the shake.

"You must be the great Venture that... S-Storm is always going on about. It's nice to finally meet you. Is your... is your mom home?" His composure was breaking down, sending a jolt of worry coursing through me.

I nodded silently before pushing the door wide open and revealing Nightlife. Her look of confusion only deepened when she saw who was at the door, though concern etched itself into her features as well.

“Spitfire, Soarin, how are you both?” Mom asked cautiously.

“Just fine, Nightlife,” the golden mare piped in, her gruff voice sounding calm and collected. “Do you think there might be a place we can talk,” she spared a glance down at me, “alone?”

“Sure,” mom responded as she turned toward me. “Sweetheart, do you think you can run up to your room for a little while?”

"But mom-"

"No buts," she cut me off sternly. "I'll come get you when we're done, but I have to talk to the Captain and Lieutenant first."

“O-ok mom,” I stuttered, the heavy weight of dread settling in my stomach. What was going on? Where was dad? Was he ok? Why didn’t they want me in the room? Dozens of questions were racing through my mind, but the seriousness in mom’s voice told me that I wouldn’t get her to budge.

I settled myself at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, but with a clear view of the pink living room as the three ponies settled in. Mom took a seat on our brown, beat-up old easy chair, while the two Wonderbolts both sank into a hideously green couch. Nightlife may have had one of Equestria's most beloved voices, but her decorating talent was sorely lacking.

Soarin began to speak in a hushed whisper, only a few words loud enough for me to catch. Spitfire had adopted a stoic look, and even continued to wear the sunglasses after settling in.

“... top secret… pirates… no zebra support,” he went on, the few words I picked up not making any sense. “... took a risk… complications… bad intel…”

A look of horrified realization fell across my mother’s face, and both of her front hooves crossed over her mouth.

“He saved a lot of lives, including mine… won’t be in vain… hero... so sorry… here for whatever you need, I promise.”

Concluding his speech, Soarin motioned toward Spitfire. The serious mare reached into a briefcase they’d brought along and withdrew a triangularly folded piece of light-blue cloth. It was adorned with stars and the images of Celestia and Luna swirling around each other. With reverence, she placed the flag on her front hooves and extended them toward mom.

Nightlife broke.

That was the only way I could think to describe it as she fell to the carpet, smacked the flag out of Spitfire’s grasp, and clutched at the two, her wails filling the house. His own resolve failing, Soarin also collapsed, holding mom tightly as the sounds of anguish arose from the huddled ponies.

Terror rampaged through me. I’d never seen mom acting like this and, whatever Soarin had told her, transformed my concern for dad into complete horror. The pieces began to fall into place, but I shook the thought out of my head.

It couldn't be true.

After a few minutes of sobbing, the Wonderbolt gradually rose, bringing mom back to her hooves as he did. Spitfire was the first to speak, now audibly enough for me to hear.

“There are preparations that need to be made, Nightlife, and it’s going to take a while. Is there anypony that Venture can stay with while you’re away?”

“M-my… my sister,” mom choked out. “Cloudy Dreams… in Canterlot.”

“Ok,” Soarin added, “we’ll make sure he gets to her. I know it’s sudden, but we really should get going.”

She nodded slightly, raucous sobs convulsing her body every few seconds. Nightlife trotted up the stairs, spying me as she mounted the top step.

“Mom,” I asked cautiously, “where’s dad?”

She didn’t say anything, just drew me into a tight, shaking hug. I could feel her tears spattering against the back of my neck as she held me. My own began streaming down my cheeks as I finally accepted the facts in front of me.

Dad wasn’t coming home.

The two of us clutched desperately at each other, letting the horrible truth hang in the air as we grasped at our final, living reminders of Sergeant Fire Storm.

After what seemed an eternity, Nightlife drew her head back and tried to plaster on a reassuring smile. “It’s ok, baby,” she cooed softly as the sobs continued to wrack my body. She began running a hoof comfortingly through my mane, “Everything’s gonna be ok.”

She pushed my head back, meeting my tear-filled eyes, “Alright?”

I nodded, tremors still coursing through me.

“Ok, mommy needs you to be strong now and go with the Captain and Lieutenant. They’re gonna take you to see your aunt. You remember her, right?”

I nodded again, but pressed my muzzle into Nightlife’s soft coat, muffling the anguished cries that escaped my throat.

“Shhh,” Nightlife shushed me, running her hoof along my back. “It’s ok sweetheart, let it out.”

Time dragged on as I buried myself in mom’s chest. The torrential storm of thoughts running through my mind blurred my concentration to white noise. My teeth chattered and numbed as the sobs wracking me quieted to a gentle croak. Finally, only fitful coughs escaped me as tears and mucus trailed down around my face.

Mom pulled a piece of soft white cloth out of a nearby drawer and wiped it gently across my stained cheeks. She dried the tears pouring from my eyes, before placing the hanky across my nose and prompting me to blow. When I could compose myself to an acceptable level, mom gently set me back on the ground. “Now,” she began, “I need you to go downstairs and wait with Soarin and Spitfire while I go get us packed.”

“Ok,” I croaked, wiping tears from my eyes.

I moved toward the staircase, but felt the comforting aura of Nightlife’s magic surround me, pulling me into another hug. This time it seemed less a desperate grasp, and more like the loving embraces I was used to receiving.

“Mommy loves you more than anything, you know that right?” she asked, her eyes sealed shut as she held me.

“I… I know mom. I l-love you too.”

She tried smiling again before releasing me and gesturing back down the stairs. As I reached the ground floor, I saw the two Wonderbolts standing stiffly by the front door. Moving toward them, the thoughts running through my mind felt muddied and sluggish, mirroring my gait as I approached.

Both pegasi looked like they wanted to say something, but appeared to think better of it. I didn’t mind, what could they say? Dad was gone, mom and I were alone. Nothing else mattered.

A couple awkward seconds passed before the golden mare cleared her throat, “You know, your dad was under my command since he was first accepted into The Wonderbolts. Now I’ve seen a lot of trainees come through our camps, but I can count on my hooves how many have shown his level of determination and promise. It was an honor to serve alongside him.”

I didn’t say anything, just continued analyzing the various imperfections in the hardwood floor.

“And he never stopped talking about you,” she continued, “I swear, he’d be bragging about your first horn drawings like you’d just done a Sonic Rainboom. He was so proud."

She adopted a contemplative look, "I guess what I’m trying to say is Fire Storm was one of the best ponies I ever served with, and he saved a lot of lives doing what he did. That's just the kind of pony he was. Brave, daring, loyal, but also so humble, never wanted to talk about his own accomplishments. To him, they may as well have been getting out of bed in the morning, but your’s? He thought the world of you, and knew that you would amount to great things.”

I felt a hoof under my chin as she raised my gaze to meet hers. She lowered the sunglasses to the tip of her nose, revealing a trail of shining tears falling from her stoic gaze.

“I don’t want to sound too presumptuous, but I can see the same spark in your eyes. I think he was ri-.”

A cracking boom resounded throughout the house, cutting off Spitfire and forcing all of our attentions upstairs.

“Oh no,” Soarin whispered breathlessly, his eyes widening in horror.

“Mom!” I shrieked as I bounded toward the stairs. Calls for me to wait sounded from the pegasi behind me, but I was already halfway up the steps before they even began to react.

I galloped down the hallway, praying that I was wrong about the source of the sound, that there might be some other explanation. I burst into my parent’s room, and collapsed in shock at the scene before me.

Nightlife lay on the bed, one of dad’s service revolvers beside her. My mother’s eyes were wide open, the remains of tears still streaming down her face. A fountainous bloom of deep crimson stained the purple accent wall behind her. The creeping cascade of blood dripped down, staining the white blankets. A piece of paper was clutched in her front hooves, both of which she’d crossed over her chest.

I sat there, stunned. My mind felt like it was simultaneously grinding to a halt, and moving faster than ever before. The beating in my chest rose to a crescendo, letting me feel the pulsing in my throat. I could feel a subtle twitching throughout my left eye, and the air filled with a high pitched whine. The horrified gasps from the pegasi entering the room sounded muffled and distant. Then, as if all at once, it hit me.

“Mom!” I cried out, leaping onto the soiled bedspread and wrapping my hooves around the corpse. “Mom, please… p-please wake up. You said… you said w-we had to be strong. I… I c-can’t be strong without you. Please, just wake up. Wake up!”

The words tumbling from my mouth made less and less sense as I went on. I could feel the presences of the two Wonderbolts behind me, but I ignored them. My mind was completely overrun with grief as I wailed into Nightlife's coat, praying to Luna and Celestia alike to wake me from this nightmare.

“I’ll always… get up when you want me to, I won’t complain about chores, I’ll practice when you tell me to, you can sing as much as you want just… please,” I begged.

“Please wake up.”

Don’t leave me.

~~~~~

The cool stone of the cavern floor was the first sensation to become apparent to me, quickly followed by the torturous burning of suffocation.

My eyes shot open, and I desperately tried to pull in a breath. A gentle wisp trailed down my throat, quickly followed by the feeling of a hot iron piercing my chest. I tried to gasp for air, but each attempt was merely smacked down by the overwhelming pain assaulting me. After several attempts, a small, steady supply began to fill my lungs, and I rolled onto my side. Barely audible chokes passed my lips, and a warm, metallic-tasting stream poured from the side of my mouth.

As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I immediately wished I’d kept them shut. Just a few inches away from me lay the silhouette of Lullaby.

I tried to push myself further from the corpse, desperate to not reawaken the debilitating horror that ran alongside the memory. I managed a few inches before my legs slipped in a cool, slippery liquid, collapsing me back to the floor. With few options left, I closed my eyes again and was left alone with my thoughts.

At first I pondered the dream, and how I’d never experienced one that vivid and lifelike. It felt less like some random assortment of imagined imagery, and more like a distant memory that I’d forgotten until just now. The excitement felt from the prospect of a father returning from war, the taste of a home cooked meal, and even the earth shattering event of losing both parents in one devastating swoop all felt like situations I’d experienced before. But how was that possible? Everything in the dream seemed so serene, so peaceful. Not only that, the colt I’d envisioned was talking and thinking like the problems facing Equestria were just starting, like everything I’d just seen was somehow in the past.

It was almost too insane to consider. Granted, the trauma I’d been put through these last few days was unlike anything I’d ever endured before, and I’d always had an overactive imagination. Could this just be how my mind was reacting to all I’d been put through, or perhaps everything I’d done?

That realization shattered the importance of my musing, turning my attention toward the past day’s events, and the horrifying nature of the crimes I’d committed. I’d failed. Failed in the most appalling of ways. Somepony had entrusted me with not only their life, but also those of their family and what had I done? Stood idly by as a filly watched her father executed, and then killed her mother to save my own life. I’d been selfish and cowardly, more concerned with my own well being than helping others. How could I possibly justify my fantasies of being some kind of hero?

I was a monster.

I wanted to scream, to cry, anything but lie in a pool of my victim’s blood and await my own death to ferry me on way.

A choked gasp escaped my lips as that grim thought began to register. I wasn’t ready to die.

In Oasis, death is so common it practically becomes routine, and yet I’d thought so little about my own mortality. I’d always assumed that growing up was the bare minimum of what I’d experience in this life, but here it was. The pain unleashed at every movement, the irregular beating of my heart, and the chilling wrongness my body reported all pointed toward the end of my life fast approaching.

But I was just a kid, kids weren’t supposed to die. Kids were supposed to make friends, play games, go to school and come home to loving families. While it wasn’t like I was doing much of that anyway, that’s the picture my books always painted. Beyond that, what even awaited me on the other side?

My thoughts travelled back to my final moments with Cinnamon Dash, and the words I’d used to try and comfort her. They were easy enough to say, but knowing the full extent of my sins cast a shadow of doubt over that assurance. Was it possible to seek redemption after what I’d done? To what limits did the Goddess’ mercy extend, and did I even deserve it?

A single hot tear ran down my cheek as I began to pray. Please, Celestia, forgive me. I'm so scared, I don’t wanna die. I'm not ready. I just want-

My pleas were interrupted by the sound of shrieking metal and a blinding light filled the cavern. I cried, or more accurately croaked, out in pain as I desperately tried to shield my eyes.

A few moments of strained blinking began to clear my vision, giving me a clear look at Lullaby. The brown earth pony had one cyan eye opened wide, whilst the other still hung from a tangle of pink nerves. The blood pouring from her impacted skull had all but abated, but not before the pool had encompassed us both.

Bullwhip’s voice filled the cavern, “Incredible, ain’t it?”

With my final reserves of strength, I heaved against the cavern floor and managed to flop over onto my back. I stared up through the open hatch, and found the orange slaver beaming down at me.

“The depths that ponies will stoop to in order to taste freedom again,” he paused as he glanced at the body beside me, “or win it for those they love. I gotta say, she jumped mighty quick at the opp’rtunity I offered, even when I told her what she’d need to do.”

A rope ladder suddenly dropped from the edge of the hole before Bullwhip grabbed hold and descended down into the cavern. He walked slowly over to me, towering over my prostrate form, and never losing that smile.

“Are ya startin’ to get it?” he asked before beginning a slow walk around me. “I wanted to show you that it don’t matter what you do for somepony, they’ll always be lookin’ out for number one. There ain’t no place for heroics in the wasteland, it’s all about survival.” He spared another glance at Lullaby, “You can fight as hard as you want tryin’ to ‘make the world a better place,’” Bullwhip laughed quietly as he shook his head. “And you can see what we do as some great evil, but at the end of the day, we’re just tryin’ to make it through to tomorrow, just like e’rypony else. We’re fillin’ a role in the nat’ral order,” he looked back and pointed a hoof at me. “We are the hunters,” he directed the hoof at Lullaby, “and they are our game. The weak fall to our hooves so that we may survive. Ain’t nothin’ more true to nature than the relationship between predator and prey.”

“Now,” the slaver spat, losing the smile and shoving his face right into mine, “I’m probably about to do somethin’ real stupid, but you’re young and, believe it or not, I... get where you’re comin’ from.” He looked away from me as he stood back up, a look of what I almost mistook for regret passing over him. “If you’re finally willin’ to accept your place, and get right back to work, I’m willin’ to give you another shot.” His voice dropped to a low growl, “And I’m sure you know this is about two more chances than I’d give anypony else, so what do you say boy?” He extended a hoof toward me.

My shallow breaths grew shakier as I stared at the hoof. Taking it would mean everything going back to normal. I’d have my job back, the security of the compound, semi-regular meals, my shed, my books… Chance. The thought made me shudder, but comparing that to life in this hole, it still sounded like paradise. All I needed to do was take his hoof, put my nose to the dirt, and just get on with my life. It sounded so tantalizing, so simple.

All it would cost is my soul.

I sealed my eyes shut and shook my head. This wasn’t it, this wasn’t I wanted. It was strange, but I knew that accepting his offer, even if I swore to myself to keep trying, I’d still have made the choice to go back to that life for my own gain. The years of staying aloof to the perpetual suffering would start to weigh on me, making me just as numb, and maybe just as cruel as the rest of them. My choice was made when I helped those slaves escape, there was no turning back. No true hero could look at how Oasis operated and turn a blind eye, I had to be better than that now. That’s what the Masked Matter-Horn would do, or lay down her life trying.

With defiance in my tear-filled eyes, I quietly gasped, “Fuck… you.” Then I reeled back and spat with as much force as I could. Most of it just landed right back on my face, but several spittles splashed against Bullwhip’s hoof.

He didn’t react at first, just drew back the leg, and wiped it against the dead slave’s coat. “Well, I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t disappointed,” he said calmly. “You’re smart, and that is just so rare these days, but… ” he turned away and began a slow canter back toward the ladder, “a buck’s got to have his convictions, and I respect that.” He grasped onto the first rung and began hauling himself up. Upon reaching the entrance, my father stared back down at me. “But that ain’t gonna stop me from stickin’ to mine. So get comfortable, boy, ‘cause you’re gonna be down there ‘till I figure out just how to deal with you.”

With that, he about-faced and began trotting away. I continued to stare up through the open hatch, closely examining the shape and movements of the gray clouds. A sense of serenity fell over me, and my breathing began to calm. As a murky darkness clouded my mind, I felt a small smile spread across my face.

Maybe I was still a good pony. My whole life had been built around prolonging and remaining complicit in the suffering of others, and it almost seemed like I’d become numb to it already. Day in and day out had me witnessing atrocities that anypony with a hint of morality would be sickened by. I'd stood on the precipice of heartlessness, and despite being scared out of my mind, I’d used this moment to fight back. I know deep down in my heart that what I did for those ponies the other day was right. Bullwhip’s sermon of the “natural order” could do nothing to extinguish the ringing truth in the righteousness of what I'd done. It wasn't easy, and it certainly put my own life into more peril than it's ever been, but that's always what it seems to take to be the hero.

I was offered the easy way out, a chance to renege on all my dreams of heroism in exchange for burying the hatchet, and I turned it down. Maybe that didn't make up for my own crimes, but hopefully it meant I could be deserving of some measure of forgiveness.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and my breathing grew shallower as the thundering in my chest settled to a steadily slowing beat.

I was still terrified of dying, and the realization certainly put a damper on my righteous mood, but I felt a bit more ready. My limbs relaxed, and I tried to ready myself for whatever would face me on the other side.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain jab into my abdomen. I cried out, but was silenced as a thick, oily liquid was injected into my stomach. It felt slightly warm at first, almost comforting, before I felt the substance swiftly spread throughout me.

A sharp cracking resounded through my ears as I felt my broken ribs begin to move, and a piercing howl escaped me as the bones began snapping back into place. The jagged shards tore through my innards, making my organs feel like they were being ripped to shreds, before they too quickly healed. It was one of the most nightmarish things to ever befall me. The searing pulses of fresh injury ran headlong into the relief of instant mending, forming an entanglement of sensations that ravaged my consciousness. The oily substance was zipping around me so fast, I couldn’t keep track of what was being done.

Finally, the torment began to withdraw, and I sucked greedy mouthfuls of sweet air into my lungs. As my senses returned, I peeled open my eyes, only to find Chance standing over me. The brown buck was smiling wickedly and a thick, filthy syringe was grasped in his teeth. White bandages covered the entire right side of his skull.

“Welcome back, Fucktoy,” he growled.

“Ch- Cha- Chan-” I stuttered as my newly healed heart struck up a rapid drumline that resonated through my ears.

“Aw,” he sighed sympathetically, cutting me off, “did you think that was gonna be the end of it? That we’d just let you die all calm and peaceful-like on the comfy cave floor? Oh Fucktoy…” he trotted up to me, before lowering his face till it was level with mine, “There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let it be that easy. You’re gonna suffer for a long, long time.”

The darkness was more comforting now. It blinded me to the sickening visuals of my reality as I wept quietly against the cavern floor, tears now freely pouring down my face.

My stomach roiled from the disgusting water, but my non-liquefied organs gave the pleasant sign that I hadn’t just drank something lethal. The potion had done little but take the edge off the fresh wounds Chance had inflicted, and a single bite of the slave gruel quickly drove away any hunger I felt.

A fog of disconnected thoughts swam through my mind, and very little was able to pierce it. One, however, stood out prominently amongst the others. One that terrified me, but not nearly as much as continuing my existence in this hole.

Alongside the relief of quenching my thirst, there lie a small bit of disappointment that the water hadn’t killed me. It meant Bullwhip wanted to keep good on his promise, he wanted to keep me alive. I don’t know how long they planned toy with me, but there had never been an apparent end to Chance’s sadism, nor my father’s lack of mercy. As scared as I’d been at the prospect of death, I’d now learned survival had far worse in store.

The sound of trickling water still gently resounded throughout the Pit, and that one thought returned to me.

I could end it now.

Weren’t a few moments of agony preferable to a potential lifetime? The terrifying visages of corpses began to flood my mind, those I’d been forced to drag out of this hole. Their final moments, frozen in rigor mortis, were burned into my memory. Faces smeared with their own blood, hooves desperately clutching at stomachs melting just beneath the skin, and some, seeking a faster escape from their atomic suicide, even bashing their skulls open against the cavern floor. It was horrifying, but wasn’t it still the less painful choice?

For fuck’s sake, was this really what I’d been reduced to? Was I going insane, or was this thought process just a symptom of growing up in the wasteland? Maybe it was an eventuality inherent to this world. You either lose your empathy for others and only look out for yourself, die trying to fulfill some misguided moral ideology, or check yourself out when you’ve lost all hope.

Maybe there wasn’t any compassion left, but that didn’t explain the family I’d watched torn apart. The regret in Lullaby’s voice even as she tried to kill me, and the chilling terror in her husband’s when he sold us out. Both of them had been willing to sacrifice their lives and humanity to ensure their daughter’s safety. In those moments I’d been shown that there was still love in the world, I couldn’t deny that.

I just didn’t understand why there wasn’t any for me.

Regardless, the uncertainty of my fate alone nearly drove me to plunge my muzzle into the irradiated depths. I could practically imagine the agony, but I also knew that it couldn’t possibly be a worse fate than throwing myself at the mercy of my family. Just a few gulps and I knew I could escape.

On shaky hooves, I managed to waddle over to the stream. Every movement of my hind legs caused a jolt of pain to lance up my spine, gasps to escape my mouth, and nightmares of the feeling’s origin to erupt in my memory. Standing above the water, I could practically feel the heat of the radiation. Several shaky breaths trailed down my throat as a heavy pit began to form in my stomach.

“Just do it,” I whispered.

I slowly lowered my mouth to the stream. A stinging heat sprouted across my muzzle as it broke the surface, and my lips parted as I prepared to guzzle a lethal dose. My eyelids sealed shut, and my shoulders shook in grim anticipation for the awaiting void.

Please, I thought desperately, don’t let it hurt too much.

Coward.

I nearly jumped from my skin as the new voice broke the silence. I withdrew my mouth from the water and scanned the cavern for the source. Seeing nothing near me, I sealed my eyes in concentration before my blue light weakly illuminated my surroundings.

Lullaby’s corpse still lie in the same spot, but nopony else seemed to be present. “Hello, is anypony there?” I asked the darkness, but only my echo answered me. “Hello?!” I shouted. My lips curled back, “Please!” I wailed into the darkness, “Somepony, anypony?!”

A familiar shriek of metal responded, and the cavern grew bright once more.

“Who ya talkin’ t’?” a deep voice asked from above.

Staring up through the hatch, I spied the giant, red mass of muscle that was Pike towering over the entrance.

“N-nopony,” I stuttered quietly, “just... myself.”

The giant slaver grunted in response before he kicked the ladder down into the Pit. A straining creak sounded from the ropes as Pike clumsily descended. A loud boom echoed throughout the chamber as the muscled pony landed.

I backed away from my brother. The stoic mask he wore made it impossible for me to tell his intent. Was he here to get his own pound of flesh from me? As the compound’s best hunter, he undoubtedly had been the most put-out by the jailbreak, and all of his wasted work seemingly lay at my hooves.

My brother lumbered closer, and my heart kicked itself back into a rapid drumline. I sealed my eyes shut again, dropped to the floor, and held my forelegs over my head. “Please, Pike, don’t hurt me,” I pleaded as his heavy hoofsteps stopped just short of me. “I swear, I had nothing to do with any of this.”

After a brief pause, he responded, “Ah know.”

My eyes shot open at his response. Lowering my legs, I stared up at him. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

“How?” I asked, confusion permeating my voice.

“Why would ya?” he grumbled.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I genuinely couldn’t think of an appropriate response. He’d answered the question simply, but perfectly. Still…

As if aware of my concern, he continued, “Ah’m not smar’, but Ah ain't blind. You don’ like wha’ we do, Ah know. But you is smar’, too smar’ t’ make Pa mad on purpose.” He stopped himself, and scrunched up his face in concentration before proceeding, “Ah think he knows too, and Chance.”

“Then why are they doing this?” I asked.

The giant slaver shrugged, “Need somepony t’ blame, Ah reck’n” He directed his gaze back at the hatch, “Others’re mad, want their caps. Knowin’ who lost ‘em makes ‘em happy-” Pike looked back at me, “for now.”

“For now?”

“Yeah,” he continued, “but they’ll wan’ more soon ‘nuff.”

“What’s gonna happen to me Pike?”

He seemed to ponder that for a second before lowering his head, “Don’ know.”

“Oh,” I responded, disappointment coloring my speech. Another thought sprang to mind, “So why are you here?”

Pike looked over at Lullaby’s corpse, then back at me, “Ge’ th’ body.”

“Oh,” I said again, the feeling of defeat further seeding itself within me.

My brother didn’t move at first, but started looking around the cavern suspiciously. With a final glance up through the hatch, he laid down in front of me, bringing our gazes level with each other. “An’ one more thing,” he whispered. Then he stood on hind-legs, swept me up in his hooves and delivered a bone-crushing embrace.

I gasped in shock, and my skin roared at the sensation. Before I could vocalize my distress, Pike gently set me back on the ground.

“I… wha-... huh?” I stuttered as my confusion sailed to new heights.

The enormous pony gave a small, sheepish smile, “Thank ya.”

“For what?”

The smile disappeared, and a melancholic air began to exude from Pike, “Saw ya th’ other nigh’.”

I was about to ask him to clarify, but thought better of it. What other night could he be talking about?

He drew in a breath, and let it out in a shaky exhale, “Saw ya and-,” his face scrunched up in concentration again, “Ciman- Cimanin- Cinmaninin-”

“Cinnamon?” I offered.

He nodded, but continued to wear the mournful expression.

The emotion in his response was the most animated I’d ever seen my brother, and it shook me to see the statuesque pony broadcasting his feelings like this. “Were you two… together?”

He shook his head. “She weren’t like other ponies. Didn’ jus’ see me as some big…” a look of resignation crossed him, “...dummy. She talked t’ me. Listened t’ me.” His gaze lowered to the floor, “Made me feel… not dumb. Like I had a friend.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, Pike,” I responded instantly.

He looked up. This time it seemed his turn to be confused, “Ya don’? Bu’ you’s smar’.”

“Apparently not that smart,” I said, motioning to our surroundings.

Pike shook his head, “Ya are. Ya read, an’ only smar’ ponies read.”

“Anypony can learn to read,” I responded.

“Not me,” he said dejectedly, “too dumb.”

“No you’re not,” I exclaimed, leaping to my hooves, “and I’ll prove it. If you really want to learn, I can teach you.”

Pike’s eyes widened, and his jaw fell open in shock, “Ya would?”

I smiled as I took a few steps closer, “Of course.”

“Why?”

My mouth opened to respond, but I stopped myself. Why indeed? I'd been so caught up in the moment that I hadn't even realized the gravity of my words until I'd said them. Two minutes ago, I was standing over an irradiated creek, ready to end this nightmare in one horrifyingly painful gulp, and now here I was offering to start tutoring somepony? If anything, I should at least be curled up, crying my eyes out and begging for freedom.

Teaching my brother how to read should’ve been on the bottom of my priority list, and yet watching him talk about his relationship with Cinnamon sparked a feeling of sympathy for the giant. His actions toward me gave the impression that there was more to him than the muscle-bound slaver I’d always known.

And maybe helping others was how I handled my trauma. Nopony should have to be subjected to the abject cruelty my father and brother displayed, but the realist in me pointed out that I didn’t have a whole lot of say in how much of it I received. I did, however, have a choice. I could play into their hooves, give up, wallow in this pit until my will finally crumbled, or I could do more.

Despite the horrors of my new reality, there was one important fact that no amount of self-pity could possibly let me ignore. I was alive, and there’d been too many hurt or killed to make sure I’d ended up that way. Deep in my heart, I began to think this might be some kind of test, a trial of will and morals laid out by the Goddesses themselves. I couldn’t think of any other reason for my actions being punished like this. It was the only answer that gave me any shred hope.

I had to live, to be strong, and to keep trying. And if I couldn’t do it up there, I’d do what I could down here. Even if it was something as mundane as teaching an illiterate pony to read, I would still be doing good. My final rebellion would not only be my survival, but my commitment to making things better, no matter what.

‘Atta boy.

I jumped at the voice again, spinning around to check the cavern, but we were still alone. Pike was giving me a perplexed look when I turned back toward him. I shrugged off the eery sensation as my focus returned to the conversation at hoof.

Perhaps there was also a way to make this offer mutually beneficial.

Gingerly, I tried to place a hoof on my brother’s shoulder, but settled for the highest part of his leg I could reach. “I know we’ve never been close, but that doesn’t mean we can’t start now. It’s not like I have a whole lot else going on and, as long as I’m gonna be stuck down here, it’d be nice to see a friendly face once in awhile.” I tried to muster the biggest smile I could, “Besides, we’re brothers, right?”

His look of shock transformed into the biggest, goofiest grin I could possibly imagine. It was a bit off-putting from his usual demeanor. The giant pony nodded enthusiastically, several long strands of his green mane pulling free of the knot he kept it tied in. “When?” he asked, eagerness dripping in his response.

“Well,” I said, “we can’t do a whole lot of reading if we don’t have any books.” I gestured again to the gloomy surroundings. “But, if you can bring me the ones I’ve got in my room, we can start whenever you like.”

“Ah’ll get ‘em” Pike responded instantly before spinning around and galloping back toward the ladder. He paused briefly to throw Lullaby’s body on his back, then took hold of the first rung.

Excitement flooded into me at the implication of Pike’s words. My books, I’d get to have my books! If nothing else could go right for me, at the very least my most prized possessions would be back in my grasp. I only hoped the others hadn’t taken their anger for me out on them, or see the red slaver trying to smuggle them down here. Celestia only knew what Bullwhip would do to Pike if he found out the giant pony was helping me. Out of all the things I knew about my father, his love of punishment shined through with a grisly brightness.

A niggling feeling tingled at the base of my neck as that thought crept in. “Pike, wait!” I called after him. The slaver paused in his ascent, swaying gently as he craned his neck back down toward me. “Don’t come back today, wait until they send you down here again.”

He cocked his head.

“They probably won’t like you helping me, and I don’t want anypony to get suspicious.”

He seemed to consider my words, before resignedly nodding his agreement and climbing up and out of the Pit. Pike grasped onto the hatch, bracing himself to close it, but gave a final look down at me.

“See you soon, lil’ brother.”

The sound of stones scraping together echoed throughout the cavern as I drew the first diagonal line. I followed it with a mirrored image, connecting the two as I did. Finally, I bridged them with a horizontal etch slightly below the peak. “Ok, what’s this one?”

Pike paused for a moment, scratching his head with a hoof. After a few seconds, he responded, “A?”

“Good,” I drew another series of lines, this one vertical with two bumps along it’s length.

“B?” he asked, this time a bit more confidently.

“Perfect,” I complimented. We’d been through the alphabet a few times already, and I was incredibly impressed with Pike’s progress. I’d thought that, with him being so much older, that these first few steps would be almost beyond him. Instead, my brother been able to identify various letters after just a few hours. There were still a few he had issue telling apart, but I was confident that he at least knew every letter’s name. I was getting ready for us to start building up to actual words, but I needed to be sure. Getting him frustrated during our first tutoring session wouldn’t exactly be productive.

I decided to throw him a curveball, “Ok, how about these?” I quickly drew a series of diagonal lines, connecting them all at their peak as I had the first character. When finished, there were two letters on the floor that appeared to be the horizontal mirror image of each other.

“Um…” Pike stammered, furrowing his brow as he did. The giant peered closely at the characters, swapping his gaze back and forth between them. The hatch was mostly closed, shrouding us from any unwanted onlookers, but also severely limiting what light we had to work with. My magic provided just enough illumination to make out the markings.

“It’s ok,” I said comfortingly, “take your time.”

Pike took a deep breath, before turning his attention back to the characters. After a few seconds, he confidently stated, “M,” whilst pointing to the character with two peaks and, “W,” at the other.

“Fantastic,” I exclaimed.

The red slaver beamed from my praise. “So we can star’ readin’ now?” he asked excitedly.

“Almost,” I responded, “now we’ve got to start working on pronunciation.”

Pike gave me a blank stare.

“Um…” I stuttered, trying to think of a way to explain it, “It’s basically how the different letters sound when you put them together, and there’s some pretty tough rules to remember.”

Pike cocked his head, “Like what?”

“Well, different combinations of letters can sound almost exactly the same while the same combinations can be completely different, it’s all about the context. There’s honestly more exceptions to the various rules of spelling than there are words that follow them. Then there’s the words with silently pronounced letters-” I cut myself off as Pike’s growing look of horror derailed my berating of Equestrian grammar. “But don’t get discouraged,” I said quickly, “you took to this stuff like a radroach in a balefire pit, so I’m sure you’ll have it down in no time.”

Looking markedly calmer, Pike levelled his gaze back at me and nodded his desire to continue.

“Alright,” I began, before scraping an ‘F’ followed by a ‘PH’, “to give you an example of what I was talking about, these combinations would be pronounced the same.”

The blank stare returned.

“Yeah, I know,” I relented, “but I promise, it’ll start to make sense soon.”

“Th-the M-Manny-Maney…” Pike groaned in frustration before tossing his hooves over his eyes. The crumpled pages of Power Ponies number four lay open on the ground in front of us, their yellowed pages turning an odd green in my magical light. Pike’s comprehension after learning letters had slowed immensely, but we were still making headway. In fact, considering the materials we were working with, I’d still say he was making fantastic progress.

Despite the refreshing distraction offered by my brother’s visits, I still wasn’t blinded toward the severity of my situation. I still didn’t know if Bullwhip was cooking up some creative punishment, or if he’d eventually just let Chance fully of the leash once they’d bored of me.

Pike had tried to give me a sense of how much time was going by, but during his absences, the moments just blurred together. It might seem like days or even weeks had passed, although Pike assured me he was stopping by as often as possible.

Time spent with my oldest brother was all the more precious as every other moment was filled with maddening silence, or Chance. The sadistic buck would show up every few days and enact whatever warped fantasies he’d dreamed up. Chance’s savagery was relentless, but true to his word, he never took it too far. Meaning I’d survive, if just by a thread.

The conclusion of Chance’s visits often included an offering of Hydra, which I continually refused. I wasn’t naive enough about chems to not know how damaging they were over time, so I’d been contenting myself with the varying quality of my prescribed healing potions. However, I was terrified that my continued denial was resulting in injuries that lay beyond the weakened draughts’ abilities. Luckily, Chance hadn’t kept his promise of taking my eye, not yet at least.

Pike never mentioned it, even when the signs of our brother’s abuse were obvious, but he’d bring an extra healing potion and some decent food whenever he came for a lesson. He even brought the sheet from my bed so I’d have something to help me sleep and, perhaps even more importantly, also smuggled in my music box. The merry tune may not have been enough to allow me to completely fall into blissful escapism, but it offered me a measure of tranquility in this painful chapter of life.

It helped keep me sane.

“You’re doing great, Pike,” I reassured him, “That’s a tough one since it’s kind of a play on words, but it says Mane-iac.”

“Why do that?” he asked quietly, “Ain’t there a lot o’ words already?”

“Well… yeah, I guess, but sometimes ponies like to be a little more creative with names.”

“Oh,” he murmured.

“Don’t get upset, it’s hard for everypony at the start,” I consoled.

Pike absently pushed at a few pebbles, then turned to look at me, “How’d ya learn?”

“There was a slave,” I began, the warmth of one of my few good memories bathing over me. “A few years ago, when I first started working. Her name was Cheery Days, and she’d talk to me while I cleaned out the pens, ask me how my day was going, and even came to my defense when the other slaves started hassling me. It really helped me acclimate to work knowing at least one pony didn’t outright hate me just for being involved, and it was nice having somepony to talk to. Anyway, she’d give me my lessons at night and quiz me when I was cleaning out the pens. She even gave me a few books she’d smuggled in.” I looked down at the comic at Pike’s hooves, “One of them was a beginner’s reading guide.” Pike’s ears perked at that, but I had to disappoint him, “Somepony stole it a while back, I guess it was probably pretty valuable. It helped, especially after she got sold, but she also wanted me to learn how to read for fun, so she gave me a comic.” I gestured toward the brittle pages, “That one, actually.”

“Why’d she do somethin’ like tha’?” Pike asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” I responded.

“She knew what you was, that you weren’t gonna do nothin’ for her, and nopony else’d give a shit ‘bout her helpin’ you. What’d she wan’?”

“Well, it’s different for everypony,” I admitted, “but I think she knew that I didn’t want to be involved in their enslavement anymore than any of them wanted to be enslaved. Other times, ponies just like to be nice to each other, maybe in hopes that things can go back to the way they used to be. Before any of this.” I gestured toward the roof of the cavern, and the wasteland outside. “Before the slaving, raiding, and killing. Just a world of folks looking to do right by each other, and try to be friends.” I looked up at the ceiling, “That mare was my first inspiration to try and do better, to try and be like the heroes in the stories she’d given me.” I lowered my gaze back to my brother, “We live in a pretty rotten world, Pike, and I think there’s a lot of us that just want to try and make things a little… brighter.”

The giant pony seemed to mull over my words before he adopted a somber, almost regretful, expression and lowered his head to the floor.

I began to regret explaining it that way. It wasn’t like anything I’d said wasn’t true, but I’d also effectively demonized the focal point of his entire existence. I placed a hoof on his shoulder, “There’s always time to do good, Pike, no matter what you’ve done. As long as you want to do better, and you feel regret, then we can at least ask for forgiveness.”

“No,” he said solemnly.

“No?”

“Don’ regre’,” he answered, “it’s what Ah do good.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

He shot me a perplexed look.

“What I mean is, well, your talent is hunting, right?”

Pike shot a look back at his flank, analyzing the crossed spears adorning it, “S’pose.”

“Well, who says that what you hunt has to be slaves, or that you even have to hunt at all? You could do anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked.

“Definitely,” I exclaimed, my excitement building at his awestruck expression. “There’s a whole world out there, big brother, and I think if we work together, we could make a real difference. Even if you do want to keep hunting, there’s plenty of ways to do good with that. You could hunt for supplies or lost ponies. Maybe even bad ponies like raiders, thieves, slavers-” I cut myself off.

“B-but...” Pike stammered, nervousness suddenly sprouting across his face and his eyes growing wide, “...but Pa-”

“I know,” I said comfortingly, “he scares me too. But we’re not his slaves, and we can be anypony we want to be. Pa doesn’t control us.”

The slaver’s widened eyes relaxed somewhat, and an air of contemplation fell across his face.

“Come on,” I said warmly, “let’s keep going.” I could always try again. It would take more than a few inspiring words to undo the years Pike had spent in Bullwhip’s employ, but his reaction gave me a bit of hope. Maybe he’d always wanted to get away from this life, just like me, but never had the confidence to try. While it wasn’t like mine was in much better shape, maybe our two broken wills could amount to somepony capable.

Pike breathed a deep sigh of relief, obviously grateful for the change in topic. He levelled his gaze back at the pages before him, “The M-Man-Mane-iac?” my brother looked back at me for approval.

“Perfect,” I said.

Pike was smiling down at the comic in front of him. He’d been on the same page for the last half hour, even though I knew my brother was capable of reading through the entire book in that time. I was busy wolfing down the can of cram he’d brought along. The spongy pink… stuff tasted like a whole stack of snack cakes with how hungry I was.

The giant’s progress lately was astounding. After getting through the first comic, Pike immediately latched on to the next, sped through the faded magazines, and even expressed dismay at the torn novel when he realized he’d never find out how Daring Do escaped Ahuizotal’s clutches. Although, my brother did swear to keep an eye out for another copy when out hunting.

The glow in his eyes as he devoured the written words made almost everything I’d been through to get him here worth it. Pike was now officially literate, and I’d never felt prouder.

It was the same pride I’d felt helping those few slaves escape, leading me to believe that a hero’s victory needn’t always require defeating some villain. Sometimes being a hero just meant helping somepony who needed it, even if their aggressor was just their own confidence. If all this really was some test set out for me by the Goddesses, I’m pretty sure I was passing with flying colors.

I let the empty can clatter to the floor before trotting back over to Pike. Peeking over his shoulder, I could see him staring at a full-page spread of the Saddle Rager’s transformation. The meek behavior the character generally showed was in such stark contrast to the hulking beast she could become, it was almost disconcerting seeing her outside of battle. A sudden realization hit me, and I began to understand why Pike was staring at this page.

“You like the Saddle Rager, huh?” I asked inquiringly.

“Ayep,” he responded happily, “she’s so cool. Th’ way she jus’ clobbers th’ bad guys, but only if’n she thinks they deserve it. Nopony can tell her when t’ figh’, it’s all up t’ her. Ah think she’s my favorite.”

“Mine’s the Masked Matter-Horn,” I said. “She’s always looking out for her friends, always has a plan ready to go, and she makes everypony feel valuable.” I sat down next to Pike, reading over his shoulder as he finally continued on with the story.

“You know,” I commented, “you kinda remind me of the Saddle Rager.”

The red pony startled a bit, before levelling a look of disbelief at me, “Ya really think so?”

“Definitely,” I replied. “I mean, sure, there was a long time where I didn’t know you very well. But over ever since I’ve been trapped down here, you’ve really shown me who you are deep down. You’re tough when you need to be, but there’s still a gentle, misunderstood pony hiding in there somewhere. Only difference I see is you’re big all the time, not just when you’re angry.”

Pike seemed to mull over my words, his expression changing to one of deep contemplation. “Maybe,” he muttered after a time, “but she fights bad ponies, and Ah’m-”

“Somepony born into a life that never gave you choice,” I interrupted, knowing where he was going with that thought. “We’ve all done bad things, Pike, but that doesn’t mean we’re bad ponies. There’s always a chance for us to do good, it’s just that this world doesn’t give us a whole lot of opportunity. The right decisions are always there, they just aren’t always the easy ones. Pa sure as shit isn’t ever going to order you to make them, but you’re not him. You’re whoever you want to be, whether that’s Pike the slaver, or…” I flipped the comic back to the image he’d been gazing at, “Pike the hero.”

The giant’s troubled look had relaxed as I spoke, and there was even a subtle hint of yearning in his expression. I could tell he wanted to believe me, but something was still holding him back, something that was keeping his loyalty solidly rooted in this life.

Well, I thought, may as well be now or never. I extended a hoof and put on the biggest, warmest smile I could muster, “So what do you say, Saddle Rager, want to help me make the wasteland a better place?”

Pike stared at my hoof, his inner turmoil spreading across his face like wildfire. I knew from the start that this moment was coming, that at some point I’d have to make the slaver choose between his comfortable, familiar life, or abandoning it to jump into the great unknown. These last few… weeks (Goddess I hope it’s just been weeks) I’ve tried to be the kindest and most understanding pony possible, hoping that would sway his decision. From the way I’d always seen Bullwhip treat him, I assumed that only Cinnamon and myself had shown the buck any modicum of compassion.

It had never been my intent to put him on the spot like this. Truly, I’d just wanted to see a friendly face and to have a closer relationship with my brother. But it had become apparent that if I ever wanted to escape this place, I’d need help. He was my last hope.

After a few tense seconds, the giant slaver said, “Do ya think Cinnamon would like that?”

“I know she would,” I responded instantly.

Slowly, the red pony pulled himself up and clopped away from me. My smile faltered, and I could feel my heart drop into my stomach.

That’s it, I thought, he’s leaving. I pushed him too much, and now I’ve pushed him away. What was I thinking, trying to get him leave everything for some stupid fantasy? Good going, idiot.

However, instead of heading toward the ladder, Pike walked toward the pile of sand beneath the hatch. I saw him lower his head and pick up my ratty sheet. It’d been nestled in the coarse bedding, as it proved the softest place in the cave to sleep.

As he trotted back toward me, I gave him a perplexed look. My brother only smiled as he tossed the cloth across his back, then extended his hoof toward me. “Ah’m ready,” he stated confidently, before adding, “Mas’ed Matter-Horn.” My smile erupted back across my face as we bumped hooves. With a bit of magic, I hastily tied the sheet around Pike’s neck.

The dark city streets of Maretropolis extended out into the peaceful night. Flickering street lamps bathed the asphalt in a disconcerting sheen, while the shadowed alleys remained hidden from view. A gentle breeze rustled piles of litter, but an eery silence was all that could be heard otherwise.

Two ponies marched along the sidewalk. One, a unicorn, wore an outfit of deep red and light blue with a matching mask covering the upper half of his face. The other, an enormous earth pony, was dressed in a costume of turquoise and purple with a single strip of purple cloth wrapped around his eyes.

The unicorn paused before a brilliant light burst from his horn, causing the shadows to retreat from all but their dimmest corners. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, the light extinguished and the pair continued on their way.

“It’s quiet,” the unicorn commented, “too quiet.”

“It is?” the earth pony asked, “Maybe i’s a… um… bad guy?”

“Well… yeah, probably. But we’re not at that part yet,” the unicorn responded, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Ah ain’t good at playin’ pretend,” the giant lamented, “why can’t we jus’ ge’ t’ the fightin’?”

“There’s gotta be some buildup,” I said, turning toward my brother. “That’s always how the stories go.” The mental illusion of Maretropolis fell as I broke character, revealing Pike and I as the two sheet-cape wearing ponies we actually were. City streets became stone floor, and sides of buildings became the walls of the Pit.

I’d always loved playing superhero, even though I’d perpetually been alone in the endeavor. The only other kids in Oasis had never exactly been in a position to play with me, so forays into the fanciful worlds of imagination had been a rare pleasure for me to indulge. However, the victory of pulling Pike over to my side had created an air of excitement I couldn’t. The idea of becoming like the heroes in my… our comics had resonated so well with both of us, I felt like delving into a little immature fun would be a welcome break.

It was a little embarrassing, asking Pike if he wanted to pretend to be superheroes with me, but he’d agreed with a surprising amount of eagerness. After a quick dash back to his room to acquire another sheet, we set the stage, decided on the story, and began our adventure into the feigned world of the Power Ponies.

“Bu’ this par’ is so damn borin’,” Pike complained. “How much more build-up do ya need?”

“Just a little longer,” I asked, giving the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could muster and pouting my lower lip, “please.”

“Fine,” he relented, standing back up and adjusting the sheet on his back, “bu’ hurry up an’ get t’ th’ excitin’ par’.”

“Ok,” I promised. My head lowered toward the ground as I took a deep breath, trying to get back into character.

“Let’s check out these alleys,” I began, trying to make my voice sound commanding. “The Police Chief told us that the number of attacks here has risen the last few nights.”

“Wha’ kinda attacks,” the ‘Saddle Rager’ asked, trying his best to sound invested.

“Mane assaults,” I said. “All the victims have reported their manes and tails were shaved. Since none of the hair was found, they’re assuming the perpetrator has been collecting it.”

“Ew,” the giant responded, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

“Maybe not as ‘ew’ as you think,” I stated, continuing in my explanation. “Another interesting fact, every pony that’s been assaulted have been stylists, models, actors. All of them the kind of ponies you’d expect to take good care of their manes and, perhaps, have one desirable enough to make wigs. The type one could assume would fetch a high price on the black wig market.

The earth pony gasped, looking surprised, “Ya don’ mean-”

“Yes,” I stated gravely, “it sounds like the Mane-iac has returned.”

Suddenly, a new gust picked up, blowing the piles of trash around in a blinding whirlwind. As the refuse began to settle, a new figure stood before us. A gangly violet mare, garbed in a suit of purple, black and gold, stood above us. Her tentacle-like, green mane clung tightly to the tops of four nearby light posts, holding her aloft.

“Well, well, well,” she began, her voice soft and venomous, “what do we have here? The Pitiful Ponies, trying to save the day.” She flicked her gaze back and forth between us, “But where’s the rest of the merry band of pathetic? Did Humdrum trip everypony else down a flight of stairs…” she put a hoof under her chin in contemplation, “...again?”

“Mane-iac,” I snarled as I drew in magic and ignited my horn.

“Where?” the muscled pony at my side asked, spinning around in bewilderment.

I cringed a bit, “Over… um… over there.”

“Oh, righ’,” he mumbled sheepishly, then adopted a wide-legged battle stance. “Stop righ’ there, villain.”

“Or what?” the manic mare mused.

“Or else… uh… or Ah’ll pound your fuckin’ head in!”

Well, I thought, at least he’s trying.

“Yeah,” I shouted at our imaginary foe. “Come with us peacefully, or face the righteous might of the Power Ponies!”

The Mane-iac threw back her head and unleashed a wicked cackle, “Oh, that’s too rich. And how, pray tell, will you manage that with just the two of you?”

“Don’t underestimate us,” I warned. “It doesn’t matter how strong you are, or how many of us are here. As long as we’re together, we can do anything.” I peeked over my shoulder, “Right Saddle-Rag-”

I was cut off as a rapidly approaching stalagmite filled my vision. Just in time, I dropped to the floor, and felt the jagged rock sail over head. With a crash, it slammed into the ‘Mane-iac’. In reality, a huge gash appeared in the cavern wall, and the the stone spire split in two.

Looking up, I stared back at Pike with shocked look. The muscled pony beamed back at me, “Righ’, Mas’ed Matter-Horn,” he called proudly.

“Fucking hell, Pike,” I gasped, trying to get my heart rate under control, “we’re just playing. Could you tone it down a bit?”

“Oops,” the giant pony muttered, a shameful look of realization replacing his smile. “Sorry, Ah go’ excited.”

“It’s ok,” I said after a moment, finally calming myself. “Let’s just get back-”

“No, it’s no’,” he muttered, turning his head from me. “Ah almost hurt ya, coulda killed ya.” The shame in his voice tugged at my heart, and I regretted snapping at him. “Ah told ya, Ah ain’t good at playin’ pretend. Too stupid Ah gue-”

“No,” I cut him off, an irrational anger overtaking me, “don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

He looked back at me, now shocked more than anything.

“We have worked too Goddess-damned hard for you to still think something like that,” I chided, marching right up to Pike and shoving my head up toward his face. “You’re a lot of things, but I think we’ve both proven that you aren’t stupid. No matter what Pa, Chance, or anypony else says.” I put a hoof on my brother’s leg, then threw caution to the wind and wrapped both forelegs around his and squeezed tight. Immediately, my breathing turned to panicked gasps, my head began to spin, and a roar of discomfort seared across my skin, but I endured it.

Pike’s look of shock deepened as I embraced him. After the first incident, I’d explained my issue with touching - not in detail, as I felt the reasons were fairly obvious - but he’d respected my condition nonetheless. There’d been a few slip-ups here and there, but the giant pony had been overly-apologetic every time. But this wasn’t some casual contact, this was necessary. Pike needed to know just how much he meant to me, that no minor mistake could possibly drive me away or change the newfound love I had for him. We were brothers, and I would suffer any amount of discomfort to make sure he knew that.

“You’re a smart pony, big brother,” I finished.

The red giant’s expression fell into a deep relief, and a big smile spread across his face. Pike hesitantly raised his free hoof, and looked down at me questioningly.

“It’s ok,” I said, bracing myself.

Pike’s leg gently fell across my back, returning the hug. It was… unpleasant, but not nearly to the extent I’d been expecting. The embrace felt similar to clutching Ambrosia all those days ago. My condition was still there, but softened from a paralyzing burn to a minor itch of discomfort.

A warm glow touched my face, almost as if outside light had broken through into the cavern, just for the two of... wait… light?

I began to notice that an actual brightness was fighting to break through my closed eyes, snapping me out of the affectionate delirium. My stomach dropped, my legs began to shake, and an indescribable fear struck me.

The hatch was open.

Shaking, I gently pushed against Pike, breaking the hug and allowing me to peer up toward the ceiling. As I’d guessed, the metal dome was opened wide, revealing Bullwhip idly tapping his hoof as he gazed down at us.

“Aw,” he called, shocking Pike out of the moment as well, “Did I interrupt your lil’ moment of brotherly love? I didn’ mean to do that.”

Shaking, the red pony turned his eyes upward, and froze. A look of unparalleled horror sprouted across my brother’s face, and his legs began knocking together as he desperately tried to remain upright. “P-P-P-Pa-”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” the orange slaver snapped.

As he had weeks ago, Pike crumpled under Bullwhip’s words. My brother’s gaze turned to the floor, and I could see the beginnings of tears forming in his fear-filled eyes.

Bullwhip’s anger no longer contained, our father kicked the rope ladder down into the Pit. “Thought I heard something crash down here, and I guess this explains where you been sneakin’ off too, eh? Though I shouldn’t be surprised,” his gaze turned toward me. “Seems like this lil’ fuck just can’t stop makin’ trouble for me.” He looked back at Pike, “Get your dumb ass up here, retard.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” I shouted, my terror instantly transforming into fury.

“Oooo,” Bullwhip cooed, a look of amusement crossing him. “You been workin’ on growin’ a backbone down there, boy?”

“Pike isn’t dumb,” I snapped, ignoring his comments. “He’s smart, a lot fucking smarter than you’ll ever be.”

A barking laugh escaped the slaver’s lips, “Him? This dumb sack o’ shit right here? Boy, if you think there’s anythin’ rattlin’ ‘round in that teeny tiny brain, I’d reckon you’re stupider than he is.”

“He can read,” I stated simply, before letting my own smile appear, “and I bet you can’t.”

The amused look dropped, and a corner of Bullwhip’s lip turned up in snarl, “Well now, if that’s the case, maybe I’ll have ‘im read you your last rights.”

My grin disappeared, and the earlier fear returned.

“That’s what I thought,” the slaver spat. “Now Pike, I gave you a fuckin’ order.”

The giant pony turned toward me, mouthing a silent apology before grasping onto the ladder and hauling himself up. As he reached the entrance, Bullwhip violently yanked the make-shift cape off the bigger pony’s neck and tossed it back in the Pit. Then, with a look of disgust, he pulled back a hoof and smacked Pike across the muzzle, toppling him to the ground. “Now I gots to figure out a way to punish the both of you,” he stated, agitation in his tone. “Pike, come.”

The orange pony about-faced and began trotting away. Before following, my brother gave me a final, sorrowful look.

I returned it with a smile and a wave, letting him know it was alright. He tried to muster up a grin of his own before grasping onto the hatch and slamming it shut.

Goddess-dammit.

A day must have passed. The only measure of time available was the growing hunger and thirst I felt, becoming an insufferable ache, but paling in comparison to the crushing guilt.

Whatever Bullwhip ended up doing to Pike was my fault, because of my idiotic interpretation of the “right thing to do.” Why is it that every time I think I’m doing some measure of good, the world sees fit to punish me and anypony else involved? Weren’t we the good ponies? Why did pieces of shit like Chance and Bullwhip get away with murder, when decent folk like Pike and Ambrosia had to suffer?

I cried out in frustration before pounding my hooves against anything that looked remotely breakable. Metal boxes and the remains of the shelves dented slightly at my onslaught. I began to leave dark smears of red on every surface from the hot cuts and bruises sprouting across my legs. The containers proved frustratingly resilient, so I turned to bucking at sand and fragile-looking stalagmites until my lungs burned. My breath came in shaky gasps before I began to calm. Legs growing weak, I fell backward, and slammed against the stony floor. As the hammering in my chest slowed to a steady beat, I turned my gaze to the ceiling.

“Why?” I asked aloud, echoing the same sentiment from my arrival in the Pit. This time, however, the audience of my pleas were the Goddesses themselves. I gritted my teeth as fresh tears sprouted in my eyes, creating clean lines in the filth clinging to my cheeks.

“WHY?!” I shouted again. “Why do you keep letting this happen? Isn’t this what you want, for somepony to try and make things better? ANSWER ME?!” The echoing cries hammered back against my ears, nailing home the only revelation afforded from my prayers.

Nopony could hear me, I was alone.

With a wail, my streaming tears devolved into blubbering sobs. The relentless tide of remorse and rage crashed over me, and my final strands of resolve collapsed at the onslaught. Sodden coughs and chattering teeth interrupted my sorrowful weeping, and a rising wave of nausea dragged me further into my deepening pit of hopelessness. I turned to my side, brought my rear legs up, and held them tight as I began to rock back and forth.

“Please,” I managed to sputter, “help me.”

Get up.

I snapped upright, startled at the sudden intrusion. Blue light illuminated the cavern as I whipped my head around, but found myself alone. A niggling feeling of remembrance tickled the base of my neck, and I thought back to the events preceding Pike’s first visit to the Pit. I’d heard the voice, I couldn’t deny that now, but this time I was going to figure out just who the hell it was.

“This… this isn’t f-funny anymore. W-whoever you are, come out,” I called.

Who’s trying to be funny? the voice answered, causing me to jump again. But if you’re looking for a joke, I’ve got a pretty great one about zebras and light bulbs.

The voice was male and sounded young, maybe even somepony the same age as me. It was relaxed, but with a subtle hint of command in the tone. The voice also appeared to come from all around me, almost as if it was speaking directly into my head.

My silence must have urged the voice on, Or are you not a joke kinda kid. How about a jape? Everypony loves japes.

“W-who are you?” I asked.

Well, that’s kinda the fuck of it, it answered. Can’t say I’m tots’ one hundred percent certain myself.

“Then why did you-”

Listen, kid, the voice interrupted, if your first few moments of consciousness were some little fuckhead’s tantrum, you’d wanna nip that shit in the bud too. Whining gets on my nerves RE-HEALLY fast.

“I wasn’t whin-”

Oh poor me, I got a dick shoved up my ass, I wanna try and kill myself, why doesn’t anypony love me? it interrupted in a mocking tone. Bitch, bitch, bitch, that’s all I’ve heard outta you.

“How did you-”

Know what you were gonna say? the voice finished, Not quite sure how you missed this one, genius, but I’m kinda in your head.

“What!” I shouted, running my hooves across my skull as if to find the intruders entrance.

Yeah. Can’t exactly say how, but here we are, it answered.

“B-but why?” I asked shakily.

Uh, weren’t you listening, the voice stated patronisingly, I’m as in the dark as you are, kid.

The panic coursing through me had me pacing across the cavern, desperately trying to think all of this through. Could there really be somepony in my head? No, that was too insane to even consider. There had to be some other explanation, right? It’d been awhile since I’d had anything to drink, maybe this was just a symptom of dehydration. That would make sense.

Although there was another possibility. My thoughts travelled back to the first time I’d heard the voice, and the horrifyingly lifelike dream that’d preceded the encounter. Strange visions, hearing ponies that weren’t there; the pieces started to fall into place, and a shocking realization chilled me to my core.

“Am I going crazy?” I asked quietly.

A moment of silence passed. Really? it finally asked in disbelief, You’re asking the voice in your head if you got a couple screws loose, if you’ve taken a trip to the whacky shack, if you’re a few candles short of a birthday cake? The voice paused and made a noise like somepony blubbering their lips and running a hoof across them. I think you just answered your own question, kid.

My stomach dropped, and my lip began to quiver as a fresh bout of tears threatened to spring forth at the voice’s sobering declaration.

Oh don’t you fucking start that shit again, the voice snapped, startling me from the oncoming breakdown. Speaking of birthdays, you’re really bringing my first one down with all this mamby pamby bullshit.

“B-but-”

So you’re a couple degrees off kilter, who the fuck cares? it interrupted. I’ll let you in on a little secret, this world isn’t exactly the best place to nurture a sane or rational mind. You think anypony else up there is any better off than you are? I mean, yeah, most of them ain’t stuck in the ground and getting their asses reamed out on a regular basis, but I can guarantee that anypony that knows how to survive ain’t exactly in their right mind. Everypony’s got their own way of dealing with shit, and your’s just so happens to be creating a new best friend. Is that really so bad?

As confusing as the voice’s reassurance was, I really couldn’t deny what it was saying. Sure, it wasn’t exactly comforting me in the most conventional of ways, but it had stopped from drinking the creek’s water, and was currently trying to make light of what should be ample excuse to try again. Could it be that this was how my mind was seeing fit to protect me? To create something in such stark contrast to my current state in order to pull me out of this? As crazy as it sounded, maybe this was a good thing. Maybe the voice could help.

Now you’re starting to get it, the voice cooed approvingly. Stick with me, kid, and I guarantee that we’ll be having more fun than a breezie in a hurricane.

“So you’re gonna help me?” I asked hopefully.

Not sure if you noticed, but I’m kinda along for the ride. I think it’s safe to say that if I let you bite it, that ain’t gonna turn out too rosy for me either.

“Can you help me be…” I trailed off, a touch of embarrassment putting pause to my words.

I’m in your head, kid, the voice reminded me, won’t do you too much good trying to keep shit hidden.

I took a deep breath, “Can you help me be a hero?”

A what now? the voice asked, genuine confusion in its tone.

“You know,” I continued, “a hero. Somepony who helps others, that stops the bad guys, that saves the day when nopony else will.” I lowered my head toward the floor, “I’ve been trying, but I just keep-” I kicked at a nearby rock, sending it sailing the across the cavern, “fucking it up. I just want to learn what I’m doing wrong so I stop making things worse.”

The voice was quiet a moment before drawing out, Suuuuuure, that’s… exactly why I’m here.

“Really,” I shouted excitedly, hope returning to my voice, “you can help me be a hero?”

First things first, it chided me, we got to figure a way out of here.

As small a consolation as it was, the voice’s presence and reassurance offered a small respite from the thoughts assaulting my mind. The pit that had become my stomach began to ease, and my breathing returned to a calming rhythm.

“So what do we do now?” I asked tentatively.

Well, the voice began matter-of-factly, if the boundless wisdom and experience offered by my… weeks of life experience is anything to go by, I’d say that opportunity is just about to come knocking.

Before I could respond, the familiar shriek of the hatch opening pierced the tense silence, and the brightness of the day illuminated the dismal cavern. I instinctively put a practiced hoof over my eyes, letting them adjust in what I’d learned to be the most efficient way.

Oh thank fuck, the voice swore, sounding relieved. Real talk? I was totally bluffing.

Ignoring the comment, my vision began to clear away the sudden blindness, allowing me to make out a figure standing on the edge of the hole. A few strained blinks revealed a large, red earth pony.

“Pike!” I shouted before sprinting toward the entrance.

The ladder fell down into the Pit, and the giant began a slow descent. As he landed, I galloped up to him, excited, but also wanting to gauge the extent of Bullwhip’s abuse. My brother wore a somber look, and fresh bruises were plastered across his face, but otherwise looked none the worse for wear. However, he was carrying some kind of syringe in his mouth.

“Are you ok?” I asked, worry in my tone.

Pike remained quiet, an eerie reminder of our past relationship. He gave only a sorrowful look before turning his sight up toward the entrance.

The fuck’s this retard’s problem? the voice inquired.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” I snapped under my breath. Then I followed Pike’s gaze, and froze on the spot. The towering, orange visage of our father approached the edge of the hole, followed by the sneering grin of Chance, and then numerous others. Silhouettes began to appear until the entirety of the Pit’s entrance was surrounded by all manner of curious and grinning slavers. Nopony spoke, but there was an obvious air of excitement pervading the crowd as they beamed down at us.

“Wh-what’s going on, Pike?” I asked nervously, my legs beginning to shake.

Still my brother remained silent, although I could hear his breath growing shaky around the needle he clutched.

Hold on, the voice cut in, is everypony here for me? Aw, I didn’t think anypony would care about my birthday, but this is shaping up to one hell of a party.

“Quiet,” I pleaded silently.

I’m thinking shots, then some chems, and hell, let’s go all out. Somepony break out the motherfucking streamers!

Before I could further implore the voice to cease his endless chatter, Bullwhip stepped closer to the edge and then addressed the crowd. “Fillies and gentlecolts,” he began haughtily. “Welcome to the grand openin’ of our latest pastime.” The slaver began a slow canter around the circumference of the entrance, head held high and a wicked smile plastered on his face.

“Now, all y’all remember a couple weeks back we had bit of an… incident involvin’ the payday of our lives,” his gaze fell back down on the two of us. “And I’m sure y’all are equally aware of just who we can thank for that.”

My knees knocked together as I shrank back from the daggers now staring down from the amassed ponies. Our father continued, “And I know that tensions ‘tween y’all and me have been up there, and I ‘ppreciate your patience. Payday may’ve been delayed, but I know a lil’ entertainment can help relieve that stress. Now, I’ve been thinkin’ long and hard ‘bout just how to deal with this lil’-”

“Ain’t the only thing long and hard directed at ‘im lately,” Chance cut in before he devolved into a dark chuckle.

Bullwhip cuffed the brown pony behind the ear, causing him to stagger, “Don’t you fuckin’ interrupt me, boy.”

“S-sorry Pa, didn’t mean nuffin’ by it,” Chance placated as he took a few steps back.

The orange slaver stared him down for a bit before returning his attention to the crowd. “Like I was sayin’, been thinkin’ real hard on just how we should deal with this. What punishment would be fittin’ and entertainin’ ‘nuff to fit this crime. I take great pride in how I dispense justice, but this’n, I got’s to admit, has had me right puzzled. Not only was the perpetrator one of our own, but my own boy to boot.”

The buck reached behind him, then pulled a hunting rifle from somewhere on the ground, propping it against his shoulder, “Normally, I’d prob’ly just starve him out for a while, let ‘im think a good long while ‘bout just how badly he fucked up, before puttin’ a bullet in his head. But I think we can all agree, that ain’t ‘nuff.”

A vicious cheer arose from the crowd, interjected with calls of, “Burn ‘im alive,” “Bury ‘im in that hole,” “Let us have a go at ‘im,” “Fuck ‘im up, Pike!” My blood chilled, and my heart felt like it was about to rip itself out of my chest.

Hoo boy, the voice stated, we got us a lively bunch. They sure know how to party.

“And just when I think I’ve got it all figured out,” Bullwhip continued, “this lil’ shit here goes and tries to turn another one of my boys against me.” That silenced the crowd, and looks of disbelief began raining down on Pike.

“Y’all heard right,” our father commented, “the pride and joy of this compound, the best hunter any of us have ever bore witness too, has turned against his daddy as well. He’s been bringin’ food, water, medicine, and, the way he tells it, was even plannin’ on helpin’ this traitor escape.”

I shot a hopeless look at Pike, but he refused to meet my gaze.

“Now,” Bullwhip continued, “I see myself as bein’ a fair and reasonable buck, and while little Venture’s already blown all his chances, Pike hasn’t. So, instead of further delayin’, I’m thinkin’ we can kill two birds with one stone. Prove Pike is still one of us, and get what entertainment we can outta this traitor. So to that end,” the orange slaver drew himself up, and raised his voice to grandiose levels, “welcome, everypony, to the Oasis Arena!”

My gaze remained transfixed on Pike as the horrifying implication began to set in. They wanted the two of us to… fight?

HOLY SHIT! the voice cut in. That sounds awesome! Happy fucking birthday to me!

“What!” I shouted in disbelief, “B-but, I don’t want to fight.”

Sounds to me like you don’t have much of a choice, kid.

I shook my head, “No, I won’t do it. Heroes don’t fight just because somepony said so, or to save their own skin. They fight to protect others and-”

You saying you’d rather die?

“N-no,” I muttered, “but… I can’t… I won’t-”

You will, or we’re both fucked. If it helps, just imagine you’re saving me! Ain’t that what you said heroes do? Come on, just how many ponies are you planning on saving when you’re dead on the floor of this fucking hole!

My breath caught in my throat, and a sense of dread crashed over me, “I… I… but-”

Listen, the voice softened its tone, life ain’t all black and white, you should know that better than anypony. This might seem a little fucked now, but just imagine all the good you’ll do once we get out of here. That grateful brother of yours just sold out faster than a two-bit whore during shore leave. You really think he’ll keep up this little hero charade? And besides, you can always ask for forgiveness, a small bit of warmth cast over me, like somepony draping a leg across my shoulders, right?

Before I could answer, Bullwhip continued his monologue above, “Here’s the rules, two ponies go down there, one comes out. If Pike wins, his loyalty is proven, and all is forgiven. But if by the holiest grace of those cunts in the sky Venture wins, well, we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. ‘But Boss,’ I hear y’all askin’, ‘how’s watchin’ one big retard smash a lil’ traitor’s head against the floor entertainin’, ain’t this a bit one-sided?’ And to that I say, y’all are right. So I think I’ve come up with a way for the lil’ shit-shoveler to last more than a couple seconds.” His gaze turned toward Pike, “Do it.”

Something sharp jabbed into my front leg, causing me to cry out in pain and surprise. Turning toward my brother, I could see he’d lowered his head and jabbed the dirty-looking needle into my flesh. With his tongue, the red giant pushed down the plunger, and a tingling warmth shot into me.

Immediately, I could feel my heart kick itself into a gear I didn’t even know was possible, the edges of my vision turned red, and a searing spasm shot through my bloodstream. I cried out, clutching at the entry point of the substance, desperately trying to claw whatever it was out of me. “Wh-what was th-that P-Pike,” I stuttered, “M-my b-blood f-feels like… Like. It’s. On. Fire!” I screamed the last words, unable to cope with the torment assaulting me.

“Stay calm,” Pike whispered quietly, “be over soon.”

His words did little to soothe me as I continued sputtering incoherently against the floor. I devolved into a fit of coughs as the blaze coursing through me reached my throat, then continued on toward my head. The veins along my skull began to pulse, and I grit my teeth as the substance roared across my consciousness. Suddenly, the burning sensation began to withdraw, the convulsions ceased, and the world seemed to fall away. A ferocity I didn’t think I was capable of feeling crashed against the walls of my resolve, and a single, fervid desire overtook of me.

I really wanted to kill something.

Hoooooly shiiiiiiit, kid, the voice drawled. We gots to get us some more of that, feels like a hoofjob and a kick in the skull. I’m lovin’ it.

“Yeah,” I gasped as the scorching adrenaline shot through me. Shakily, I brought myself back to my hooves, and levelled my gaze at Pike. The red edges of my vision narrowed until only my brother remained in view, and an irrational smile began to spread across my face.

“Ha,” Bullwhip called from above, “ain’t nothin’ like a little Rage to turn a pitiful little shit into a killin’ machine.”

Before I could even register my father’s words, I felt my legs galloping beneath me, and the tingling sensation of a spell began to form in my horn. Pike’s eyes widened in shock just before I reached him. A hysterical shout left my lungs, and the building magic discharged in a blinding flash of light. An immediate resistance slammed against my head, but some alien force drove me forward until the pressure shattered, and a resounding boom echoed all around me.

Breathing heavily, I found I’d shut my eyes. As they began to slowly peel open, I saw Pike was no longer where he’d been standing, but was now in a crumpled heap on the other side of the Pit. A smoldering mark lay at my hooves, the remnants of whatever spell I’d just managed to cast. The wicked grin still plastered across my face, I began a slow stroll toward my prostrate brother. Some rational part of my mind kicked and screamed, begging me to think about what I was doing, but it was easy enough to ignore. My desire was now perfectly clear, and the who or why was irrelevant.

Irrelevant? the voice asked, its tone sounding euphoric. Are you fucking with me? After everything you did for him, this shit head still sold you down river.

“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, continuing my approach. The mound of red flesh began to stir, and Pike raised his head with a dazed expression on his face. As the red slaver regained his faculties, he turned slowly back toward me. A nervous shake overtook the giant as our gazes locked.

You put your life on the line for him, the voice cooed, and he stabbed you in the back.

My jaw clenched as a roaring blaze of anger overtook me, and the pitiful sight of my brother merely stoaked the flames.

He doesn’t regret turning you in, he just didn’t know what you were capable of. He didn’t think you could win.

My lips turned up in a snarl at the voice’s words. The actual truthfulness in them meant little, but they were exactly what I wanted to hear.

He’s a pathetic coward that was willing to kill the only pony that treated him like more than a braindead slaver. Somepony like that doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

My shoulders began to heave up and down as my breathing deepened and grew more rapid. The voice’s urging kicked up a frenzy of emotion, further driving me to enact whatever violence I deemed necessary.

Time to go to work, hero, it continued menacingly, time to fight the villain.

With a righteous cry, I galloped once more toward Pike. A brilliant incandescence radiated from my horn, and I braced myself to splatter the traitorous pony against the nearest wall. My heart continued its rapid beat, further fueling the furor of anticipation building within me. The distance between us closed, and I prepared to unleash all the fury building up inside-

A hoof slammed into the side of my head. The force of the blow sent me sailing across the cavern and slamming into a stone pillar. As the air in my lungs heaved out in one large gasp, so too did the mounting magical energy stored in my horn. With a deafening crack, the force of the unleashed spell shattered the column, raining shards of rock down upon me. As I blinked away the dust drifting down, I could see Pike had lifted himself off the floor, and was stalking over to me with a slight limp.

I put a hoof on the shattered column, and tried to lift myself up. The middle of the pillar had become a jagged stalagmite, making it difficult to gain any grip against its surface. The red slaver began to pick up the pace, and quickly closed the space between us. As he glared down at me, I swore I could see a bit of reservation in his expression.

“What’re you doin’, Pike?” I could hear Bullwhip call. “Take that lil’ fucker down, or do you not remember what I told you?”

My brother twitched his head in a reserved nod, then the giant slowly rose up on his hind legs. He stood still for a moment, letting the tension in the air thicken into an uncomfortable cloud, before bringing his hooves down toward me.

With plenty of forewarning, and the heightened awareness offered by the chem, I leapt out of the way and crashed against the stone floor a few feet away. Pain shot through my head, an obvious result of Pike’s earlier blow, and yet it didn’t seem to bother me much. The feeling was there, but my mind placed its importance far below my desire to end the pony slowly approaching me again.

I puzzled over that last move, wondering why he’d broadcasted his intent so clearly. Weren’t we supposed to be fighting, shouldn’t he be trying to kill me? Even with that limp, I knew he could maneuver much faster. I growled in frustration, enraged from the coward’s reticence.

Uh, the voice said. I didn’t mean to imply he couldn’t still kick your ass, and there ain’t no way in hell you’re gonna be able to overpower him like that. You’re gonna need to start fighting smarter, not harder.

“What… do you… suggest?” I wheezed.

Well, it continued, you probably know that dumb bastard better than anypony, you’ve gotta know something that’ll get under his skin.

“How’s that supposed… to help?” I asked, finally getting a proper lungful of air.

The voice groaned. If you get somepony mad enough, it began patronisingly, they’ll start fighting with their heart, not their head. Thusly, fuck ups will occur, and you can make your move.

I nodded in agreement before rising back to my hooves.

Teeth bared, I began gathering magic once more. The shimmering light quickly encompassed the cavern, and I began to ponder the voice’s advice. What could I say to get under Pike’s skin? What did I know about the giant pony that would get him to start fighting irrationally? A few answers began to trickle in, and my smile returned in all of its manic glory. If I were to use that blasting spell again, I needed to get nice and close.

“Hey d-dummy,” I called across the Pit, halting Pike’s advance.

Ooo, scathing, the voice commented sarcastically. Come on, kid, you can do better than that.

Despite the weakness of the insult, I could make out a distinct look of confusion and hurt spreading across my brother’s face. A twinge of remorse struck me, but it was quickly consumed by the murderous desire that continued to burn. I grit my teeth again, and steeled myself against any further guilt toward this pony. Like the voice said, he didn’t deserve it.

“After everything I did for you,” I shouted, “this is how you show how much you care?! How much you appreciate everything I sacrificed?!” I began my own advance toward Pike, causing the giant to begin shakily backing away.

“N-no,” he stuttered, “Ah don’t-”

“Do you even know what I’ve been through down here?!” I interrupted, letting the rage coursing through me poison my words, “Or were you just too stupid to notice? I’ve been starved, beaten, raped, and, still every time you showed up I put on a happy face. Put my own damage aside just for you, just to make you feel like you were worth a damn!”

“Ah… Ah…” Pike responded, “B-but… lil’ broth-”

“Don’t you fucking dare call me that!” I shrieked, cutting him off again. “Now I know what you really are. A pathetic, spineless, dumb-shit coward!”

The red giant’s jaw dropped, and it began to quiver as I continued my verbal assault. The dawning of tears appeared in his widened eyes, causing a sickening pleasure to erupt in my heart. I was getting to him.

Shit, the voice chimed in, I didn’t think you had it in you. Now let’s drive it home. It’s time to really piss him off.

I nodded my agreement before letting loose my trump card, “Guess that explains why you couldn’t save me...” my voice lowered to a growl, “... or Cinnamon.”

My brother’s look of hurt was replaced with a morbid realization, and quickly followed by a barely contained rage.

“Don’t,” he muttered quietly.

“You know I was apart from her for quite some time, while I was trying to save her life,” I called, continuing my approach. “Do you think, when she knew it was over, that she cried out for you?”

“Stop,” Pike snapped, his repressed anger spilling over into his words.

“How do you think that poor mare felt,” I went on, finally arriving in front of the slaver and shoving my face into his, “when she realized that the pony she’d been comforting, the only friend she had, was putting the recapture of slaves over her life?”

“I said stop,” the giant pony growled.

My smile only widened, it was time to end this verbal offensive. “I was there you know, at the end. Holding her while she slowly died. Wanna know what she said?”

Pike’s gaze had dropped to the floor, and he shook his head from side to side before an animalistic roar erupted from his throat. The giant drew back a foreleg and swiped vaguely in my direction. The windup of the swing gave plenty of time for me to roll out of the way, then release the pent up magic I’d been drawing in this whole time. It was more energy than I’d ever successfully dealt with before, and the pressure on my horn felt like an ocean leaking through a garden hose. A searing pain erupted in my forehead, but a moment later the strain instantly eased and another boom resounded throughout the pit.

This time, however, the force of the blast was enough to propel me backwards and slam once more into the same stalagmite. A field of stars danced in my vision, and a warm liquid began pouring down the back of my neck. As the ringing reduced to silence, I could make out the voice chastising me.

Come on, kid, it was saying, you read, dont’cha? Isn’t there something about third laws and apples that you’re forgetting about here?

“Wh- wha-” I mumbled dazedly, rubbing the back of my skull. As I brought my hoof back into view, I could see it smeared with red.

Shit,the voice commented, that ain’t good.

Ignoring the comment, I craned my neck backwards, and found the top of the jagged stone spire was splattered with blood. If I’d hit the pillar just a few inches higher, I would’ve been impaled through the neck. Hopefully a concussion was the only thing I had to contend with.

Whipping back around, I saw Pike had already begun to pick himself back up. The giant’s coat was now stained with dirt and darker patches of red. Otherwise, he looked none the worse for wear. A look of unbridled contempt was plastered across his face as he began slowly approaching me.

Oh for fuck’s sake, the voice whined, what the hell does it take to kill this shithead?

My mind was racing, desperately trying to formulate a plan, but my thinking was muddied and sluggish. Every fiber of my being just wanted to beat Pike to death, and that desire overrode any tactical thinking I could possibly come up with.

Think fast, genius, the voice urged. Don’t know about you, but I ain’t a big fan of being smeared across the cave floor when that lummox bashes your brain open against that pillar.

Wait, I thought, the pillar? Quickly turning my head once more, I spied the blood-smeared, viciously sharp stalagmite, and an idea began to form.

What’re you thinking? the voice asked in a pleased, questioning tone.

I didn’t need to answer, that would be apparent soon enough. I glared daggers back at my brother, “You didn’t give me a chance to finish before.”

Pike didn’t halt his approach, but the hateful scowl deepened.

“Cinnamon’s last words,” I continued, garnering a sadistic joy from the reaction I knew I’d receive. “‘Where’s Pike?’” my voice lowered to a menacing whisper as I continued the lie, “and then she died screaming.”

Pike bared his teeth, and a savage snarl escaped his lips. The lumbering giant charged at me until he braced his rear legs and leapt into the air. Time seemed to slow as the slaver sailed forward, and all four hooves aligned themselves to pulverise me into a red stain on the cavern floor. I felt almost paralyzed, shocked at the grace such a large creature could exhibit when pressed. Reaching the pinnacle of the jump’s arc, Pike began his descent, and I smiled wickedly as I saw where he would land.

With a final heave, I leapt out of the way. Instead of the expected boom of impact, the air filled with the wet sound of tearing flesh, followed by a shocked, sodden choking. Turning around, I felt my crazed grin spread wider at the sight.

Pike’s hooves had planted in the ground almost exactly where I’d just lain, but the jagged spire of rock had impeded his descent as it pierced his chest. A flowing cascade of the giant’s blood dribbled from the wound, pooling beneath him in a crimson puddle. An anguished gurgling was the only sound escaping my brother’s lips and, in a pathetic attempt to ease the suffering, he desperately tried to heave his bulk from the anchoring stalagmite.

Damn, son! the voice exclaimed. That was fucking slick! Did you see the look on that retard’s face? It lowered its tone into a mocking interpretation of Pike, Oh, I’m gonna stomp you into- WHOOPS! Impaled myself. Then it devolved into a maniacal cackle.

Spurred by the voice’s praise, I slowly pulled myself back to my hooves and approached the dying slaver. My body screamed at me from the collection of injuries I’d acquired, but the chem urged me forward, demanded that the job be finished, that this traitorous fuck’s blood be splattered against-

What was I doing?

All at once, the burning rage in my heart extinguished, the murderous desires receded, and the horrifying reality that was the last few minutes crashed down on me as if the Pit itself had caved in. The various aches and pains reignited in excruciating vividness, my body began to shiver, and an overwhelming nausea forced me to keel over and vomit a bright orange slime across the floor.

As the worst of the side-effects began to abate, I nervously raised my head and took in the sickening visage. A disturbing shake had overtaken my brother as he accepted the futility in trying to escape. A continual stream of red poured from the sides of his mouth, and the gore pooling beneath the gaping wound spread until it reached my frozen hooves. I sprang back from the warmth, my eyes grew wide in horror, and it took all of my faculties to not keel over again as a newfound sickness struck me.

“Wh-what’ve I done?” I stuttered.

Uh, you won? the voice offered.

A raucous sob escaped my mouth. Ignoring the grotesque warmth encompassing my hooves, I leapt toward my brother. I swiftly began checking him over to see if there was anything I could do, anything that could reverse the atrocity I’d just committed. Tears streamed down my face in a shimmering cascade, making subtle splashes as they landed in the spilled blood.

“P-Pike…” I sputtered after several seconds, “p-please, don’t die. I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean any of that. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to-”

“Ah… know,” he gasped.

“Wh-what,” I asked, surprised at the calmness in my brother’s tone.

A few wet coughs escaped the red giant’s mouth, spattering the cave wall with crimson spots, before he continued, “Pa said… if we… didn’ figh’… he’d kill… us both.”

“But why the chem?” I questioned, my blubbering continuing to interrupt my speech, “If I’d known... I-I would’ve let you win. I don’t want you to d-”

“Mah… idea,” Pike interrupted. “Ah knew… ya would’ve’… lemme win. Ah wan’ed… you t’ live, but… it had… t’ look… real.” My brother shakily raised his head, “Ah saw… what you… was doin’... an’ Ah think… it worked.”

“No… please,” I begged as I threw my legs around the dying pony and buried my face in his coat. Hundreds of signals from pain to my body’s revulsion at the soft embrace bombarded my mind, and I did everything I could to shut them out.

“It’s ok… I wan’ed this… ya jus’... have t’… promise… promise t’-”

Another fit of coughs cut Pike off, and his breathing grew rapid, but shallow. I cried out in distress, “Promise what? I’ll do- I’ll do anything you want, I swear.”

The giant’s gaze softened, and a small, warm smile spread across his face, “Promise… that ya… won’... be… like… us.” He delicately raised a leg and draped it across my shoulders, “Promise… t’ live… an’ that… one day… you’ll be… a… hero.”

I wiped a hoof across my eyes, “I-I promise, Pike. I won’t let you down.”

Pike’s smile widened as the convulsions reached a fevered rhythm. “Ah know… ya will. Ah… love ya… lil’ broth-.” A final gasp left the giant’s throat and he fell limp, dragging his body further down the stalagmite. The weight from the limb began to crush me, forcing me to squirm out from beneath my brother.

My lips quivered and, once more, my vision began to tunnel until only the grisly corpse remained in view. My legs buckled, collapsing me back to the rocky floor. My eyes sealed shut, and my lips peeled back in a snarl. The torrent of grief and regret bubbled up in my chest, demanding some form of release.

With few options as to how, I raised my head to the sky and poured my heart into a blood-chilling scream. The echoes reverberated around the cavern, hammering back against my ears in an endless feedback loop of anguish. As my breath ran short, I pulled in a shaky gasp before continuing the howl. Memories of my unjustly short time with Pike flashed in front of my eyes, further increasing the veracity in my cries. A metallic taste sprouted across my tongue, and my throat felt in danger of rupturing. Soon, a meek wheeze was all that escaped my lips.

Uh, kid? the voice asked tentatively. You might wanna-

“You,” I growled menacingly, turning the whirlwind of emotion ravaging me toward the voice, toward the being that’d goaded my chem-addled mind into committing these unspeakable horrors. “You… you made me do this. You made me kill my brother!”

Ok, first, the voice began, offense coloring its tone, that’s a real fucking nice thing to say to the… thing, I guess, that just saved your sorry ass. And two, all I did was give you a couple pointers. Turning him into a dumbass-kabob? That was all you, buddy.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, “you’re not my friend!”

Now that’s a pretty shortsighted thing to say, it commented, seeing as how I’m the only one you got left. Want more evidence? Look up, genius.

My eyes widened in realization. I’d completely forgotten we weren’t alone, an entire audience was just a few meters above me.

And they’d just watch me kill one of their own.

I raised my gaze toward the Pit’s entrance, only to find a group of shocked expressions glaring down at me. Silence pervaded the crowd, furthering the mounting tension that had permeated the space. Nopony moved, nopony seemed to even breathe, only the strained quiet remained.

Finally, after an insufferable stretch of time, Bullwhip’s expression turned from surprise to one of rage. The orange slaver lifted the rifle again, braced the stock against his shoulder, and fitted the firing mechanism in his teeth.

“You Goddess-damned little...” he growled as he placed me directly in the gun’s sight.

I yelped in fear, dropped to the floor, closed my eyes, and threw my hooves over my head. “No, please…” I managed to squeak.

“That was fucking wicked!” another voice shouted.

Shaking, I slowly lowered my hooves and peered up toward the source of the interruption. A green, earth pony buck was prancing around the circumference of the entrance, blocking my father’s view and delaying my imminent execution. The buck’s mane was a brilliant gold, and I could faintly see the outline of three white dice adorning his flank. His excitement was palpable, and obviously contagious if the excited murmurs and smiles spreading throughout the crowd were any indication.

The buck continued, “Did y’all see the way the kid picked apart that big lummox? HO-LY FUCK! I ain’t never seen nopony pick a fight like that. That was some straight up psycho shit! And the way he was slingin’ those spells? Like a fuckin’ fireworks show. Now that was Goddess-damned entertainin’” The slaver turned his attention toward a particular white, unicorn mare. The same, I recognized, that’d executed Lullaby’s husband all those days ago. “What’d we agree the odds against the kid were again, Canvas?”

The mare turned away and mumbled something incoherently.

“What was that?” the buck inquired, throwing on a big, toothy smile and leaning toward the stoic slaver.

She sighed in exasperation, “Fifty to one, Bookie.”

“And,” he went on, the subtle hint of laughter hidden in his tone, “if I ain’t mistaken, I’m the only one who placed my bet on him. Twenty caps, if I do recall.” Bookie turned his attention toward the entirety of the crowd, “Pay up, bitches.”

A displeased grumbling replaced the excited whispers. The amassed slaver’s reached for their saddlebags to hand over the winnings. Soon, a sizeable pile of caps was jingling around in the beaming buck’s grasp.

I realized how distracted I’d become with the confusing scene, and I turned my attention back toward the more pressing matter. Bullwhip had also began to scrutinize the transaction, a look of curious perplexity now adorning his face. As the victorious gambler began to trot away with his earnings, my father cleared his throat, “Now Bookie, I’m sure you recall that I, as leader of this merry band, have a ten percent fee for all betting pools.”

Bookie turned back toward the orange slaver, sporting a knowing grin. “O’ course, Boss,” he responded before tossing a small sack of caps at Bullwhip. Then he turned back toward the other attendees, “And don’t worry y’all, I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to make it back next time. Right boss?” he finished, directing the last question back at my father.

“Sure,” he murmured, jingling the sack on his hoof, “next time.”

The crowd struck back up into an excited fervor as they began to disperse. Many took envious glances at the small fortune Bookie had amassed, before devolving into conversations ranging from who the next opponent would be, if my victory was just a fluke, or where their bets should lie on the next go around.

As the final ponies disappeared from view, I saw my father’s shoulders begin to shake before he threw back his head and let a triumphant cackle escape into the sky. “Hoo boy,” he said after a few moments, wiping a hoof across his eyes, “I can honestly say, that is the last fuckin’ thing I expected outta that lot.” The orange slaver’s gaze returned to me, “I thought you winnin’ woulda had them wantin’ to tear you apart, seein’ as how you weren’t the most popular kid around beforehand, and now they’re gonna be doin’ all of Pike’s work. Guess that just goes to show what a little showmanship, and the chance at strikin’ rich, can do for morale. Good work, boy.”

I was taken aback at the praise. “Good work?” I repeated. “I just killed your son.”

“And?” Bullwhip shot back.

Anger overtook me once more, “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!” I shouted, “Don’t you care about him at all?!”

“You’re talkin’ like I can’t just make another one,” he spat condescendingly. “Besides, losin’ that retard ain’t nothin’ compared to what that lot woulda done if I just sat on my hooves.”

“What?”

“I’mma fill you in on somethin’, boy,” the orange slaver began. “I wasn’t lyin’ before, the situation ‘tween the workers and I has been a little tense since your stunt with the jailbreak. Nopony likes missin’ payday, and the first one they’re gonna be thinkin’ to take their frustration out on it is the one charge. Namely, yours truly.”

Bullwhip raised a hoof to beneath his chin and adopted a ponderous look. “But they loved watchin’ you fight, even though most of ‘em just lost everythin’, ‘least till we get another deal lined up. So I’m thinkin’, maybe we can work somethin’ out. Keep this little show of ours a’goin’.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked nervously, although the implication seemed painfully obvious.

“Well,” Bullwhip began, looking back at the sack of caps, “what if we make this whole arena business a permanent staple of our lil’ community? I’m sure there ain’t no shortage of slaves willin’ to fight for their freedom, and I’m pretty sure you’re not too keen on me followin’ through with puttin’ a bullet through your skull. Seems like a worthy investment to lose a couple bits of rowdy stock in exchange for a lil’ morale boost and, to be honest, you’ve been more profitable to me down there than you ever were shovelin’ shit up here. So here’s what I’m thinkin’, you put on a lil’ show for this lot whenever I toss somepony down there, and you get to keep on livin’ as long as you keep winnin’.”

“B-but, I-”

“And, shoot, I’m feelin’ mighty generous right now. I’ll go ahead and make sure that sick fuck of a brother of yours stays outta your ass. Not only that, but you’ll have all the…” he glanced at the fallen Rage needle, shattered at some point during the fight, “motivation that you’ll ever need. How’s that sound?”

“I- I-”

“Before ya go and say somethin’ you’ll regret,” Bullwhip interrupted, “I’ll go ahead and let ya sleep on it. But rest assured, boy… ,” he turned his back on me and took hold of the metal dome, “that’s the only way you’ll be livin’ through another day in that hole. So think hard, and I’ll be back in the mornin’.”

The hatch shrieked a final time before slamming shut. Darkness once more encompassed my world, leaving me alone with the corpse of my savior, and the voice that’d helped me kill him.

“I won’t do it,” I spat for the thousandth time.

You know, you keep saying that, the voice mused, but I’m having a little trouble believing you’re actually that stupid.

“I’m not gonna play their games,” I growled, ignoring the insult. “I made a promise that I won’t end up like them, that I’ll-”

Live, it responded coldly. I was here the whole time, kid, and the other thing that carousel horse-lookin’ motherfucker told you to do was live.

“He sacrificed himself for me!” I shouted, enraged by the voice’s uncouth comparison. “He was my brother, my friend. The only pony left in this Goddess-damned place that gave a shit about me, and you’re making jokes?!”

Oh, the voice said, I didn’t realize the appropriate response was to bitch and mope around. You know, at least until you make his sacrifice completely fucking meaningless when you die to that sadistic piece of shit.

“It won’t be mean-” I stopped myself, realizing the morbid truth hidden in the voice’s blunt declaration. There had to be another answer, and I wracked my mind for anything that could let me keep my promise without becoming part of Bullwhip’s bloody sideshow.

Look, the voice interjected, following my line of thinking, the way I see it, you got three options. One, you don’t accept and you die.

I shuddered as I pictured my father returning, taking aim as I cowered and begged for mercy, before putting me down.

Two, you do accept, decide not to fight out of some misguided sense of morality and… you still die.

Flashes of some muscular slave beating me into an unrecognizable pulp played next, drawing a frail whimper from my lips.

Or three, you accept and use this as an opportunity.

“Opportunity?” I asked pensively.

Yeah, ‘cause let’s be real here, there’s no way in hell you would’ve won that fight if Pike wasn’t taking it easy on you. Now, how exactly do those heroes you’re always going on about deal with the baddies?

“Well,” I began, “first they ask them to surrender-”

The voice scoffed before drawing out, Boooriiing.

“Then,” I continued, trying to contain my frustration, “if that doesn’t work, they’ll fight until they’re able to bring the villain to justice.”

And do you know how to fight?

“W-well, um, maybe. I mean, I’ve-”

Never been in a real fight in your life, have you?

“No,” I admitted shamefully.

And that’s what makes this an opportunity, the voice said. These fanciful ideas dancing around in here with me won’t mean a damn thing if you can’t follow through. You need practice, kid, and an assembly line of ponies with the sole intent of crushing that noble little skull of yours seem like just the ticket. You gotta learn how to fight, and how to kill.

“I… I can’t,” I stated morbidly. “It’s one thing to… k-kill in self-defense, but killing ponies that are just fighting for their freedom? That’s not what a hero would do, that’s not justice, that’s-”

Ok, lemme try and explain this another way. What does ‘justice’ mean?

“No one pony can decide what justice means, not even a hero. The best method is to bring villains to jail, so the authorities can decide what-”

Gonna go ahead and stop you there, it interrupted again. When was the last time you saw a jail or, for that matter, anypony dumb enough to try and run one? Do you really think that anypony would be willing to try and lock up slaving pieces of shit like your father and unremorseful rapists like your degenerate brother? And even if there was, do they deserve a second chance?

“Um…” I stammered, starting to see where the voice was going.

Maybe in the candy-colored, cutesy, always-winds-up-with-a-happy-ending world of the Power Pussies, that noble way of thinking might have some merit. But we don’t live there, we live in the brown and red, hideous, stick-a-knife-or-dick-into-anything-that-doesn’t-agree-with-you-and-get -away-with-it-because-nopony-has-the-balls-to-risk-their-necks wasteland that we see today. And you honestly think, in a world like this, that a hero wouldn’t kill?

“But it’s wrong!” I cried, still desperate to find some other answer.

Well that’s one fine and dandy opinion you got yourself there, the voice snapped. But you know, the thing about opinions, they’re kinda like assholes. Everypony’s got one, and some of them really stink. Here’s the big truth you’re so conveniently forgetting, nopony will get justice doing things your way. You’ll die, the ponies you want to protect will die, and this marble will keep on spinning with pricks like Bullwhip and Chance running the show. That is, unless somepony does something about it. This world doesn’t need band-aid fixes and noble sentiments, it needs a final solution. Preferably in the form of a bullet.

“Why should I listen to you?” I muttered. “I don’t know what sick, depraved part of my mind created you, but because of you, I said all those horrible things to Pike. After everything I did for him, trying to make him realize how special and important he was, letting him know he could confide anything with me. Then you made me use that trust to hurt him, to kill him, to-”

And if he wasn’t letting you win, the voice interrupted again, do you think you could have won any other way?

“I… no,” I relented.

Because getting inside somepony’s head is a real smart way to win if you ain’t got the muscle to fall back on, it stated. That’s why you should listen to me. I know how to make sure we live through this, no matter what. You might hate me now, but once we’re outta here, saving the day left and right, basking in the glory and adoration of everypony you help, and making that brother of yours proud that you kept your promise, you’ll be thanking me. But that can’t happen if you die down here. So ask yourself something, are a few unimportant, selfish lives worth depriving the wasteland of the great Venture Forth, champion of the innocent and smiter of evil? I think you can really make a difference, kid, but you need to have the guts to pull the trigger when necessary. That’s the only way to change anything, and the only way you’re getting out of here.

I had trouble buying into the praise, especially after everything the voice had done, but it was starting to make some modicum of sense. With everything I’d been forced to witness, could I really deny what it was saying? I wanted to help create a better world, but was the only way of accomplishing that goal to make it a bit bloodier first, to do what nopony else seemed capable of?

But what if I was just afraid to die? What if this confliction was just spawned from my own selfish desire to live? Was my life truly that much more valuable than anypony else’s?

Only one way to find out, kid.

I nodded shakily at the statement. Maybe it was futile, trying to be a truly good pony in this fucked up world. If I wanted to make a difference, then sacrifices would have to be made. Beyond the voice’s convincing, it was Pike’s actions that made me realize that more than anything. My brother had given his life to make sure I’d survive, and I couldn’t let what he’d done be in vain.

However, if I truly wanted to keep my promise, I also had to resist the callousness this world continually tried to instill. I couldn’t become complacent, I couldn’t let killing lose its impact, especially if I was going to be the one doing it.

With that assurance in mind, I stalked over to one of the cavern walls, snatching a shard of rock in my blue aura as I went. With a subtle push of magic, the top of my music box opened and the happy tune began to fill the dreary space. The soft, smile-inducing melody began to calm the discord rampaging through my mind.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the rocky wall before carving into it.

Uh, the voice said perplexed, not sure what drawing pictures is gonna do but-

“I’m remembering,” I snapped, cutting the voice off. Once finished, three names were carved into the stone, “I won’t let myself forget what I’ve done here. Every death I cause, I’ll get their name. And then, one day, I’ll know how many lives I’ve taken, and just how much I’ll have to make up for.”

I directed my hoof at the first name, “Syringe.” I moved it slightly to the right, “Lullaby.” Finally, I faced the final name, and a gentle sob escaped me before I said, “Pike.”

My gaze dropped to the floor, and I felt several tears drip from my muzzle.

“I promise you, all of you, that I will honor your sacrifices. When I finally leave this place, I will help make the world a better place. I will do better.”

So you gonna keep talking to the wall? the voice asked patronisingly. You keep that up and ponies might start thinking you’re crazy.

“What’s your name?” I asked quietly.

You’re really not getting this whole ‘voice in your head thing, are you? I don’t have one.

“Well, I can’t just keep calling you the voice.”

What’d you have in mind?

“Well,” I responded as inspiration began to dawn, “I remember reading a story when I was younger. It was about a filly lost in the forest. She was scared and alone, convinced the entire world had abandoned her, until an air spirit appeared. It comforted the girl, told her not to be afraid, and led her back home.”

Yeah? the voice said, curiosity coloring its tone.

“So if you’re really here to help me, then maybe the spirit’s name would be fitting.”

Well let me just take a look.

“What do you-” I began to ask before stopping myself. Duh, it was in my head. I was sure that if there was anything the voice wanted to know, it could easily find out. It was a bit disconcerting, but what choice did I have?

The voice was quiet for a bit before saying, Huh, I like it. Short and to the point. The turn key on the music box chose that moment to finish unwinding, once more plunging the cavern into a menacing silence.

The voice made a noise like somepony clearing their throat, It’s a pleasure to meet you, Venture Forth. You can call me Koe.

Author's Note

The quote for this chapter is from Johnny The Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez

Echo Chamber

Fallout Equestria: Insanity's Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 3: Echo Chamber

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.

Thirteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

Unicorn buck, black coat, silver mane, emaciated body, shears for a cutie mark. He held a broken pool cue in a white, magical aura, though it shook in his grasp. He scanned the darkness, eyes growing wide, sweat dripping down his coat, knees knocking together.

Fear, it poured out of him like a broken dam. He didn’t even attempt to put on a brave face.

These were the worst to deal with. I can handle bravado, malice, anger. That behavior made the act easier, allowed me to believe the fate about to be brought down on them was somehow deserved. The scared ones, however, made me think about what I was doing. It’s harder to pretend when they’re begging and crying. He’ll scream, but I have to ignore him, just like the others.

After all, I’m gonna be a hero.

He looked up through the hole in the ceiling at the amassed slavers. They’re obviously excited, but mostly silent so as not to miss a single moment of my performance. Only hushed murmurs echoed down from the crowd when Bookie would pass by, taking down bets and collecting funds with a morbid sense of glee. The stage had been set and it was time to start the show.

“A-are you sure somepony else is down here?” the buck stuttered.

“Oh yeah, he’s down there alright,” Bullwhip called from above. My father was standing at his usual place, a small platform built to give him a clear view of the entire cavern. Chance, however, was conspicuously absent. My brother had stopped attending my fights some time ago. At first, he seemed to enjoy watching me struggle. But soon enough, after my skills had grown and my victories came easier, he’d stopped showing up.

It felt like my first real victory against him.

“And if I win, if I…” the buck swallowed hard, and I was close enough to see his throat bulge, “kill him, I can go free?”

“That’s what I said,” the orange slaver stated calmly.

“My brothers too?” the slave continued, suspicion creeping into his tone.

“Do I look like a lyin’ buck to you?” Bullwhip asked, his lips peeling back in a disconcerting grin. “You bring me the Pit Buck’s head, and y’all can walk right on out of here today.”

Dammit, I swore to myself. Why do they always have to talk about themselves?

Oh don’t get all sentimental on me now, Koe whined. It’s not like we haven’t heard a more pathetic sob story.

Please stop, I begged the voice.

Don’t you remember those two bitches a couple weeks back? Koe asked, repressing giggles. ‘Please, my daughter’s crippled,’ he began in a mocking interpretation of a mare’s voice. ‘Can’t you find it in your heart to-’ and then you bashed her fucking skull in. Hilarious.

I don’t… I don’t want to think about it, I thought back. The shame I felt from that incident haunted me in a way that few of the others ever had. That mare’s pleading, horror-stricken face would be forever burned into my memory

Kinda deja vue-ish, wouldn’t ya say? Takes me back to one of your first kills. The voice sighed happily, Ah, memories.

Please, I pleaded. The buck was searching the cavern again, I’d need to move quickly to catch him unaware.

Well, at least that bitch wasn’t lying to you. I nearly busted a gut when that three legged little filly got down here screaming, ‘I’m gonna get him for you, mama.’ The voice devolved into a fit of raucous laughter. She could barely hold that club. Whoever’s been handing out the weapons lately has got one hell of a sense of humor.

The charcoal pony had finished his inspection of the Pit’s perimeter, and had now set his sights on the only other place someone could hide down here. The pile of sand currently shrouding me.

I shuffled nervously as the slave approached. Regardless of how many times I’ve been forced to do this, the act never seemed to become any easier. I suppose, in some twisted way, I can extract a measure of hope from that. It meant that I hadn’t completely lost myself yet, that the remnants of my conscience still registered the horrifying acts I committed. But reality soon began to sink in, and I levelled my breathing in an attempt to steady my jackhammering heart.

There was no more time to delay.

Fucking finally, Koe sighed in exasperation. Shoot up and let’s get this started.

I don’t need it, I thought back instantly. My hoof gently touched the syringe by my side, stroking its smooth exterior and fantasizing about the wondrous chem trapped within.

Seriously? Koe asked in disbelief. You, literally, say that every time. We’ve been working on this for years now and you still haven’t realized that your pussy-ass sensibilities ain’t gonna let you do what needs to be done? Stop lying to yourself and shoot up. At least when you’re rolling you’re not such a whiny twit.

I said I don’t need it, I reiterated angrily. My words felt hollow. Rage made the task easier, there was no doubting that. The piles of bodies I’d built were more often than not constructed under its influence. But I hated what it turned me into. A remorseless, bloodthirsty killing machine. An architect of death and suffering.

A monster.

Prove it, Koe whispered tauntingly.

I snarled aloud, startling the slave poking apprehensively at the pile of sand. My horn burst into an incandescent blue, and a wild whirlwind kicked up in the enclosed space. Rocks, debris, and large deposits of the gritty dirt laid atop me began whipping around the Pit in a stinging vortex. The swiftly diminishing pile soon revealed my prostrate form, giving me a clear view of the retreating buck. The silver-maned pony had sealed his eyelids shut, and was swinging the pool cue wildly in a futile defense against the encroaching gale.

He looked helpless and terrified, an easy target. Slowly, I began stalking toward the blinded buck. My hoofsteps were but a gentle whisper compared to the squall overtaking the Pit. Soon enough, I was within leg’s reach, and the necessary steps for my victory became clear. Rip the pool cue out of his grasp, smash it into one of his leg’s, extract the information I need, then finish it quick. Not the most entertaining show I’ve ever put on, but results were all that mattered. I didn’t like drawing this out any longer than it had to be.

Still, a chorus of cheers erupted from above. The slavers gazed down with barbaric anticipation as they sought to have their bloodlust sated. “Pit Buck! Pit Buck! Pit Buck!” they chanted. I winced at the nickname. It was more comforting to think that the title helped my audience dehumanize me, let them see me as their prime source of entertainment instead of an ex-comrade. I didn’t like thinking ponies could be cruel enough to just want a measure of levity to go along with their bloodsport.

Just as the ethereal tendrils of my magic began to wrap around the pool cue, the slave’s eyes shot open and locked on me. His pupils shrank in a panicked reply, and the jagged edge of his weapon swung at me in an uncoordinated strike. I deftly ducked beneath the blow before grasping at the wooden pole and tearing it from his grasp. A shriek escaped the buck. I drew back the cue, ready to follow through with the strike, when a disconcerting whistle swiftly approached from behind.

I dived toward the floor just as something sailed overhead and slammed into the slave with a wet thunk. The whirlwind died as I stared at the scene in front of me.

The syringe of Rage, caught up in the angry gales of my tornado, had been flung, needle first, through the eye of my opponent. A nauseating twitch plagued the buck, and panicked chokes began escaping his lips. I swore to myself for letting my emotions get the better of me.

How was I going to get his name now?

As the dust began to settle I walked, ashamedly, toward the gathered slavers. Peering up, I saw a mixture of reactions. Excitement, disbelief, and plenty of disappointment ran rampant throughout the crowd. Too bad, I thought, their entertainment was no concern of mine.

“It’s done,” I stated simply.

“Oh really?” Bullwhip asked, leaning forward to better address me. The orange slaver wore a joyous grin, the most off-putting reaction that monster could ever show. “Might wanna rethink that, ‘cause he sure as shit is,” he finished, motioning back toward the fallen slave.

Confused, I tore my gaze from the crowd, and was greeted by the charcoal buck standing right behind me. With a surprised yelp, I leapt back from my opponent, causing a chorus of laughter to spring from the audience.

Once I’d regained some of my faculties, I further inspected the buck. The syringe still stood prominently from his eye, and even moved sickeningly as the orb scanned the area around him. Gone were the nervous shakes, now overtaken by a seething fury that I was all too familiar with. With a roar, my Rage-powered foe charged forward, lowered his head, and slammed into me. The frenzied buck kept up the charge until we both crashed against the far wall. My breath shot out of me in an aching gasp, and a barrage of pain exploded across my back.

Dazed, I felt myself slide to the floor. With a force of will, I peeled my eyes open. The slave was breathing heavily, veins protruded grotesquely from his neck, and the sclera of his remaining eye was entirely bloodshot. Burst blood vessels, one of the tamer side effects of Rage.

Holy fuck! Koe swore. That is so Goddess-damned hardcore!

The commentary isn’t helping, I thought back meekly.

What? I’ve been telling you to shove that stuff straight into your brain for a while now. I’m interested to see what it actually does.

Yeah, that’s the only reason, I responded sarcastically.

Ok, Mr. Psychoanalyst, you got me. I love the feeling and, maybe, we’re building up a wee bit of a tolerance. I’m just saying that a shot through the eye might get us back that first rush.

Maybe… I began to think, then shook my head. No, it’s not happening. I’m not an-

Addict? Koe interrupted, a hint of knowing in his tone. Then what would you call it? The shakes we get between fights? The sickness when we start withdrawing? The constant yearning that trumps our desire for food or water? You want it, I want it, and it helps us get the job done. What’s the problem?

I readied myself to respond, thinking up every half-assed argument to try and disprove the ringing truth the voice was laying down, but was instead forced to dive away from another of the maddened slave’s blows. His hooves slammed into the rocky floor, narrowly missing me, and a resounding crack echoed around the Pit.

Confused, I spared a quick glance back, and found the buck’s hooves planted inside the floor. My eyes grew wide as the implications began to register. That unicorn just broke a rock? With his hooves?!

Well, Koe said, obviously impressed, this just got a lot more interesting.

“Hey dumbass!” I called out, “When you’re done fucking up your hooficure, I’m over here.” I almost winced at the lameness of my own taunts. Koe’s method for enraging my opponents to the point of ineptitude had served me well, even if I wasn’t that capable yet. That display of strength let me see that I needed all the advantages I could get. Even the flimsiest of insults could mean all the difference.

“Get the fuck back here!” the buck snarled as he bounded after me.

Despite how tempting that prospect was, I instead focussed on keeping a safe distance between myself and the super strength-imbued stallion now screaming for my blood. In my panic, formations of scattered rocks shot into the air and sailed toward the advancing buck. Everything from pebbles to skull-crushing stones battered the charcoal pony, but all to no avail. One of the larger chunks slammed into the slave’s side, the unmistakable crack of shattering ribs echoing around the chamber, and yet the buck did not slow.

Instead, his intimidating gait transformed into a terrifying gallop. His movements, affected by both injury and chem alike, looked jerky and unnatural.

“You know,” I began, “if you were half as good at protecting your brothers as you are taking rocks to the face, you wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“I’ll rip your fucking heart out!” he screamed. His horn suddenly burst into a blinding light, and a brilliant beam of white magic fired across the Pit. I dove to the side, but the spell still managed to scorch across my flank. A piercing cry escaped me as I heard my flesh sizzle.

Focussing, I aimed one of my heavier stones at the approaching pony. With a flick of my magic, the stone fired across the space and slammed into one of the his front legs. Another snap resounded from the buck, and his forward momentum plowed straight into the rocky floor. He ended up on his back, I could clearly see the struck leg bent at an extreme angle, and a shard of bone had pierced the skin. Small spurts of blood left crimson streaks across the slave as he fought his way back to his hooves. Once righted, the broken leg apparently far from his mind, the buck stalked towards me.

“Goddess-dammit,” I swore.

What the fuck are you doing? Koe asked. You could have smashed his skull in with that shot, what the hell are you waiting for?

His name, I thought back.

Really? You’re still trying to keep that shit up?

It’s important to me, I responded.

Well, then it’s been nice knowing you.

I rolled my eyes as I shot my gaze back at the buck, only to find him crying. Well, maybe not really crying, but there definitely something pouring out of one of his eyes. I could see the syringe had been pushed further into his socket after the fall, and a constant stream of red trailed down the slave’s cheek.

An idea began to form as I stared at the wound, and my magic grasped another rock in preparation. With a shout the buck began stampeding toward me, head lowered in an attempt to impale me on his horn. Remaining calm, I waited for the distance to close. When the red of his remaining eye became clear, I fired the stone with practiced accuracy. A sharp whistle accompanied the rock’s journey, before a thump and the sound of shattering glass brought the enraged buck to a skittering halt.

Silence now plagued the Pit, and I took up the discarded pool cue as I approached the fallen slave. Towering above the supine stallion, I found his syringe skewered eye had devolved into a bloody display of minced meat. Shards of glass and bits of metal protruded from the sensitive organ, but a gasping breath let me know the blow hadn’t killed him.

A blue glow encompassed the back of the buck’s head as I gently raised him off the floor. I brought the jagged edge of the pool cue to rest against the fragile skin of his neck.

Suddenly, a terrified shriek left the slave’s throat, and his unbroken leg shot up to feel the gorey mess that remained of his eye. Panic electrified every part of the dying stallion as he thrashed and screamed. I wasn’t caught off guard by the slave’s behavior, as I was intimately familiar with the cause.

Numbed injuries suddenly exploding in agony, a burning bloodlust instantly extinguished, and rampant confusion as disconnected memories attempted to recall the last few minutes. It was horrifying, and I despised the feeling more than any other.

“Help!” he shrieked, still holding his ruined eye. “Oh Goddess it hurts! My eye, what the fuck happened to my eye?! Please!”

“Shhh,” I whispered calmly. “It’s ok, it’ll all be over soon.”

The slave’s remaining eye shot open at my voice, and the pupil shrank back in terror.

“Wait!” he cried out. “Please, don’t do this. I- I-” His voice calmed somewhat, “My name is Trim.”

Really? Koe asked again. Does he think this is actually gonna work?

I didn’t respond to the voice or the buck. I had what I needed now, but last words were the least I could give him.

“I have two-” he gulped nervously, “two little brothers, Patchwork and Spring Breeze, and I love them. I didn’t want this, I just wanted to get them to safety, back to our family. Please, can’t you understand?”

“I understand,” I said softly.

Trim’s eye brightened, “You do?”

“Of course, I know what it’s like to want to protect somepony dear to you. You’ll do anything,” I looked away from the buck, unable to meet his gaze as the words left my mouth. “So many have died down here for the exact same reason. But I don’t want that!” I shouted. “I want to help ponies, not kill them. So yes, I understand, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to help your brothers.”

“That’s why I’m doing all of this. To get stronger and fight back,” I continued. My voice cracked as rage and disgust clashed within me. The words tasted vile as they passed tongue, but this was the path I’d chosen, and I had travelled too far to turn back now. “But I can’t do that until I get out of here,” I stared into Trim’s remaining eye as hope and confusion both clashed within.

“And there's only one way to make that happen.”

I drew back the pool cue and plunged it into his neck. The sharpened wood easily pierced the tender flesh, and a crimson bubble began sprouting around the pole’s intrusion. A stream soon trailed out of the sides of his mouth and down through his nostrils. A choked death rattle bubbled out of his throat.

“It was nice to meet you, Trim,” I stated comfortingly.

A morbid shaking overtook the buck, and his fitful gurgling grew quieter. I held his gaze as the final sparks of life extinguished and the corpse finally laid still.

The silence didn’t last long as the crowd immediately reignited in cheers and excited conversation. Bets were quickly settled before the masses began to disperse, resigning themselves after the evening’s festivities.

Soon enough, only Bullship, Bookie and myself remained. The orange slaver beamed down at me, obviously pleased. “Bookie,” he began, “how much did we rake in tonight?”

“Little over two grand, boss,” the green buck stated jovially.

Bullwhip whistled, “That could hire us a couple more sets of hooves, maybe a few pieces of nice stock, or we could-”

“Uh, boss?” Bookie interrupted, starting to sound a bit more apprehensive. “Shouldn’t we maybe give a little thought to giving those caps to-”

“Are you still goin’ on ‘bout that, Bookie?” Bullwhip snapped, exasperation in his tone. “Now you listen here, that lot are our guests tonight, and I plan to be a gracious host. But I ain’t gonna have some prim and proper, little fuckstick send his people into my operation and start makin’ demands without even showin’ his own face. He can take that cult bullshit they’s spoutin’, and shove it right up his ass.”

I started listening a bit closer, this was obviously a continuation of some earlier conversation. What guests was he talking about?

“B-but boss,” the other buck responded, fear now creeping into his voice, “those messengers didn’t look like they were playing. If we ain't wantin’ to part with the unicorns, they really ain’t asking for that many caps instead. I’ve been hearing about this Fillydelphia place, and if half of it is true, then the fella running it ain’t somepony we wanna be crossing. I think we’d better just pay them off and be done with it.”

“If I want your advice,” Bullwhip began, stalking toward Bookie and shoving his chest into the smaller stallion. “Then I will fuckin’ ask you for it.”

Bookie staggered a bit before righting himself, then shakily responded, “W-whatever you say boss.”

“Damn right,” my father responded, “now feed the lil’ vermin and lock this thing up.”

“Alright,” the green buck responded, relieved at the dispersing tension, “I’ll just get the body out and-”

“No,” Bullwhip said suddenly, turning his attention back to me, “looked to me like those two had a lil’ moment there, why don’t we let them have some quality time together.”

“But boss, the kid did good today. Ain’t that being a little cru-” Bookie began, but cut himself off as the larger slaver narrowed his eyes into a threatening glare. “Yes boss,” he finished quietly.

The green stallion slowly lowered a box on a rope, shaking it to dislodge the contents. A box of cereal, a bottle of water, a healing potion, and an orange packet of Rad-Away toppled to the floor. However the sight of a fifth item had me desperately diving forward to ensure its safety.

Picking myself up off the floor, I turned my eyes back up toward the open hatch. Bookie met my gaze before giving an apologetic shrug, then slammed the metal dome shut.

A practiced thought ignited my horn, banishing the encroaching darkness in a somber blue glow. Gently, I placed my prize on the floor and laid down next to it, allowing the bright orange syringe to dominate my view. I focussed on the needle, desperately wanting to loathe the sight, to want nothing more than to crush it and allow the vile substance within to nourish the earth of my prison.

But the yearning I felt betrayed my intentions. My mind and body screamed in unison, demanding that I fuel the flames of my desire. Patches of my skin began to tingle and burn, and I knew of only one way to soothe it. Before I could stop myself, my magic snatched the Rage and plunged it into my leg. A small spurt of red shot into the syringe before the plunger slammed down, firing liquid bliss into my bloodstream.

I laid down on my back as the inferno began to blaze throughout me. My thoughts turned to violence and bloodsport, making me giddy at the prospect of my next fight. That small, rational part of my mind tried to speak up again, but the chem shot it down before it could disturb my high.

Yep, totally not an addict, Koe mused sarcastically.

“Shut the f-fuck… fuck up, Koe,” I slurred before my vision distorted, then turned a solid shade of red.

I picked myself up off the floor as I spat an orange-tinted bile. My head pulsed in unison with my heart, and my hooves ached. Sparing a glance down, I could see they were bloody and bruised.

The chem had become a staple in my life. It didn’t just lower my inhibitions, it set fire to them and poured on a healthy amount of gasoline. Nopony was safe from me when the Rage took hold and, as a result, I’d been trying to lessen my reliance on it.

I wasn’t naive enough to not see the signs of my own addiction, but that also meant I was fully aware of how deeply it’d sunk its claws into me. At the beginning, it was difficult for me to rationalize my behavior. Ending the life of an innocent pony to ensure my own survival wasn’t exactly the strongest morale high ground. Despite constant assurances from Koe that my future acts of heroism would balance the scales, I couldn’t keep pushing myself to do these horrifying things. Not alone anyways.

Against all my better judgement, I continued using Rage. The fear that poured out of the eyes of every opponent felt like it’d scorched my soul. My threadbare justifications for these heinous acts crumbled under the weight of the guilt, and Rage was the only thing that could keep me moving forward. Perhaps it was just my own selfish desire to live, and yet I marched on toward whatever lay at the end of this bloody path. However, the eagerness I soon began to feel anytime Rage was offered began to frighten me.

In the end I decided that, if I couldn’t completely wipe the chem out of my life, I could at least not use it for the intended purpose. Instead of injecting Rage whenever I needed to fight, I’d often relegated it to a reward at their conclusions, only rarely using it as the battlefield stimulant it truly was. The results were evident in my self-harm. If there was nopony for me to attack, then I’d simply target myself.

It felt like a fair compromise.

My magical light illuminated the Pit, allowing me a clear view of my departed opponent. Trim’s body was certainly a bit worse for wear as I could see his head had been beaten into a gory pulp on the cave floor, doubtless a result of my drug-induced rampage. At the very least, I found comfort in knowing he hadn’t been alive for the experience. Under the effects of Rage, there would’ve been no guarantee.

Tearing my gaze away from the body, I stalked over to one of the cavern’s walls and plucked a smaller stone, the package of Rad-Away, and the healing potion off the ground. I downed the potion first. My burned flank and the bruises on my back and legs instantly began to fade.

Next, I tore open the orange packet and began guzzling down the contents. I may not have been forced to drink from the irradiated creek that wound through my prison, but that didn’t mean I still didn’t feel its effects. After the first clump of mane fell off me, my meals began including the medicine. At least my contribution to the compound made me valuable enough to warrant the expense. In that I could take solace.

I scanned my eyes across the rocky surface, taking in every scratched mark I’d made over my time down here. Five columns of words stood prominently, and I breathed deeply as I approached. Lifting the small rock, I began carving into the softer stone. After a few seconds of scraping, the word ‘Trim’ had joined the dozens of other names now standing in perpetuity on this wall.

Whew, Koe chimed in, that was good one, huh?

“I guess so,” I stated meekly.

Oh come on, buck up hero, the voice whined. Nopony’s gonna fuck with someone that can do what you just did. When we get outta here, I reckon every slaver, raider and thug from here to Canterlot will be turning heel and running. When the great Venture Forth becomes the scourge of-

“When?” I cut the voice off sternly.

Huh, Koe responded, confusion rampant in his tone.

“When?” I repeated. “You keep saying when, but I’ve yet to hear when exactly is when.”

And how the fuck am I supposed to know that, the voice snapped. I’m just as stuck down here as you are, dumbass.

“You said you’d help me survive, you said we could escape,” I muttered, frustration poisoning my words. “But it seems like you’re completely happy to stay down here and slaughter innocent ponies. Well I’ve had it!” I shouted.

I have kept you alive, Koe answered venomously, and everything I’ve helped you do down here has been for your own good. But if you think you’re so Goddess-damned ready, why don’t we put that to the test? Let’s get out of here.

Before I could enquire further, I heard a soft muttering from outside the Pit. I stilled my thoughts, and turned the entirety of my focus toward listening to the conversation above. Listening isn’t really so much magic, although I’m certain there do exist spells that can improve it, but more a practiced skill. Anypony can hear something, but it takes a truly tuned sense to go above and beyond what is normally feasible. Shocking as it may be, I’ve had plenty of time to work on it.

“This is a bad fucking idea, boss,” Bookie stated panickedly. “I’m sure this feller didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Shut your trap, Bookie,” Bullwhip snarled. “This lil’ piece o’ shit thinks he can come into my compound and disrespect me? Say I’m uncivilized and lazy? Well he’s just ‘bout to find out what we think o’ prim and proper out in the Marejave.” His voice raised to a shout, “Ain’t that right e’rypony?!”

A cheer erupted in the distance, but I could hear a third, unfamiliar male voice speak above the din. “You killed a unicorn for nothing more than sport, and you assumed I would say nothing?”

“I was tryin’ to show a lil’ hopsti-tality to y’all, some entertainment while we talk business” Bullwhip snapped back. “Shows what I get fer bein’ neighborly.”

“Do you have even the barest comprehension of how valuable they are? Of course I was going to speak up. Now you compound the insult with this humiliation? Let my associates and I go, and we may consider not razing this place to the ground or reporting this little… misunderstanding to R-”

“I don’t give two solitary fucks who you reportin’ to. Nopony disrespects me and gets away with it. Besides, I ain’t unreasonable. Y’all gots the opp’rtunity right here and now to get outta here with your hides intact.”

A screech of metal followed the dome opening. As light poured into the Pit, I could make out the distinct shapes of my father and Bookie standing at the edge. A third silhouette accompanied them, one I didn’t recognize. It was quadrupedal with a rounded head, a sharp beak on the end of its muzzle, and sets of razor-sharp talons were attached to the end of each leg. The being’s feather coat was a mixture of grays and browns, and a simple set of leather armor made up its attire.

I remembered reading about these things before. They were called griffins, if memory served.

And here comes the final exam, Koe commented jovially. Hope you’ve been taking notes, kid, cause it doesn’t look like this fella is coming down to play.

“Alright y’all,” Bullwhip shouted, commanding the attention of the gathering crowd. “I got’s a special surprise for ya. An encore performance of the great Pit Buck!”

Another cheer arose from the slavers.

“And this time,” my father continued, “we got a special guest. Fillies and gentlecolts, all the way from Fillydelphia, I give you a dumbass Talon merc!”

The audience’s excitement rose to another level of fervor. I wasn’t entirely sure who these Talons were, but the crowd seemed to expect quite the spectacle.

“Y’all know the rules,” Bullwhip said, “if this feather brain somehow manages to take out the Pit Buck, then he and his flock can fly on outta here. If he can’t, well…” the orange buck chuckled quietly, “I think y’all know what happens.”

With that, Bullwhip put a hoof on the griffin before roughly shoving him into the Pit. A set of wings instantly shot out from his sides and attempted to flap. However, they looked bent and disjointed and, despite his best efforts, the griffin merely succeeded in softening his landing. He still managed to touch down on his feet, and immediately dropped into a battle-ready stance.

The griffin’s tapered, yellow eyes scanned his surroundings. Slowly, he began to move around, keeping most of the cavern entirely within his sight.

I held my breath beneath the sand, keeping close watch on my new opponent. He moved cautiously, yet confidently. The movements were obviously trained, professional, and lethal. Like a jungle cat zeroing in on its prey.

Time was against me, and the longer I delayed watching the griffin, the more time it had to find me. Experience on the battlefield was something I didn’t have. I never trained under any expert, nor was my knowledge base comprised of anything but personal experience. I wasn’t a trained killer or a soldier, and yet there was one advantage that my opponents never had, and it had saved me dozens of times before.

I knew this cave.

For years I’d been confined to this prison, and navigating the small space had practically become second nature. Every stalagmite, every pile of stone, every puddle of irradiated water was a potential weapon for me. Besides, even if everything went to shit, I could always fall back on a needle of-

A terrifying realization began to dawn. I didn’t have any Rage, I’d already used it.

Koe giggled softly, What’s wrong, hero? You said you didn’t need any of that stuff.

Are you enjoying this? I asked. This isn’t fucking funny.

Oh I disagree, the voice countered. You think a little blood on your hooves makes you some kinda hot shit, but once a real challenge shows up, suddenly you ain’t got the muscle to bring it down?

I shuttered at the voices words, knowing just how right it was. The motion caused a few displaced grains of sand to topple across the small opening I peered through, blinding me for a moment, and then gave way to the sight of the griffin glaring right at the hiding place.

A falcon-like screech echoed around the Pit before he leapt forward. Quickly overcoming my shock, I sealed my eyes and concentrated on building up as much magic as I could. Just as my opponent arrived to tear the pile of sand to shreds, I released the pressure in my horn in a sphere-shaped blast of energy.

The spell resounded around the cave in a cracking boom, instantly dispersing my hiding spot and slamming the griffin into a nearby wall. The mercenary recovered swiftly, landing on all fours and springing back toward me. I scooped up a nearby rock and hurled it forward. The griffin casually ducked under the stone before whipping his tail around and batting it back toward me. I leapt out of the way as the rock collided with the wall and burst into pieces.

Once righted, I began sidestepping, and found the griffin mirroring me from across the cave. We kept our gazes locked as we circled each other, looking for any sign of weakness to exploit. The griffin’s eyes scanned me up and down, gauging every aspect of my physique. His beak turned up in a grin before he spoke, “A child? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Only joke down here is you, pal,” I snapped back before flashing a grin. “Looks like they figured I was all you could handle.”

The mercenary’s grin faded, “Overconfidence is unbecoming of someone in your position. Perhaps if you beg for mercy, I might make your end quick.”

“Big words coming from a big… chicken,” I finished lamely.

“A… a what?” the griffin asked, seeming more confused than angry.

“You know, a chicken.” I stood up on my hind legs and tucked my front hooves under my shoulders. “Bwok, bok, bok, bok.”

Kid, Koe interrupted.

“Buckak?”

You’re embarrassing yourself

“Too much?” I asked quietly.

The voice sighed, Where do I even begin?

“Enough of this!” the griffin shouted. “I’ve no time for games! This ends now!” He dived forward as his claws lashed out in a scything arc. I dove to avoid the strike. Still, the talons raked at my side, slicing through my skin like a hot knife through butter. I cried out at the sudden, intense pain.

The blow threw me off balance, causing me to stumble and fall a few short feet away. Another terrifying screech pierced the air as the griffin darted toward me. Panic began to set in as I scrambled in the dirt, trying to escape from the instantaneous death of the griffin’s razors.

I failed.

A crushing weight pinned my forelegs to the floor. Looking around, I could see yellow claws wrapped around each limb. I struggled against the building pressure, but only succeeded in making my captor redouble the force affixing me to the ground.

“Where is your confidence now, boy?” he snarled. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to have some attack of conscience? When you play helpless and beg for mercy? Well, I hate to disappoint our captors, but I’m afraid my morality is not so far reaching.”

One of the claws gripped harder before I felt myself hoisted into the air by the foreleg. My skin ignited in irritation at the touch, and I struggled against the restraint with primal desperation. I rotated until I found myself face to face with the mercenary. His piercing yellow eyes regarded me as a hawk would some vermin. An annoyance, obviously beneath him, but a necessary kill on the road to survival.

“Such a shame,” he began, “to use one so young to goad others into showing leniency. Unfortunately, I’ve no more time to delay. This transgression cannot go unpunished. For that to occur, you must die.”

The griffin pulled back his other claw before plunging the talons into my abdomen.

My breath exploded from me in a choked gasp. The subsequent shock delayed the immediate pain, but a subtle twist of the intruding razors was enough to draw a shrieking cry from my muzzle.

Unceremoniously, the mercenary dropped me. I pressed my legs to the gushing wound, instantly soaking them in gore. A sputtering cough escaped my lips, and I desperately tried to keep my breathing steady.

The griffin turned his back on me and approached the Pit’s entrance, glaring up at the audience. “It is done,” he announced, mimicking my statement from yesterday.

Damn, Koe said, obviously impressed. That motherucker just tore you to shreds. Did you even last a minute?

“H-h-help,” I sputtered quietly.

What was that? Koe asked tauntingly. You’re gonna have to speak up, hero. It’s a little hard to hear you over the sound of me being right.

“P-please, help m-me,” I responded, slightly louder. The agony burning through my abdomen clouded my thoughts. The edges of my vision began to darken, and I desperately tried to stay conscious. Mind-numbing terror at the direness of my situation was the only thing I could clearly comprehend.

After everything that I’d been through, after all the lives I’d been forced to take, this was how my story would end? Bleeding out on the cavern floor? No, I couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let everything I’d sacrificed go to waste. Even if it meant listening to this voice, I had to live.

Alright, Koe sighed, exasperation in his tone. I think you’ve learned your lesson. Now I ain’t gonna to lie to you, right now you’re somewhere between fucked and royally fucked. We don’t know jack shit about healing, but I’ve got a little trick I’ve been working on that just might let you survive a couple more minutes. But first, I need a teensy little promise from you.

“A-anything,” I coughed.

I thought we had an understanding, but your attitude lately has cast a little doubt on that. So from here on out, you do what I say, when I say it. I’ve got nothing but your best interests at heart, kid, and I think it’s time you start showing a little appreciation for that. No more little outbursts, no more bitching and moaning. Just listening to your only friend in the world. Got it?

“I p-promise.”

Fantastic, Koe said, obviously pleased. So here’s what we’re gonna do. First, close your eyes.

I was terrified to follow the order. It felt as if doing anything but keeping my eyes pried open would lead to a darkness I’d never emerge from. But I’d made a promise, and it wasn’t like I had a lot of other options.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and the searing pain from my wound dominated my awareness.

Good, Koe continued, now you feeling that? That torment eating at you like a wildfire? Well, fires need fuel. You get rid of that, you stop the fire. Picture it, that gushing hole in your stomach is the first spark and it’s starting to spread. Creeping across your flesh and torching everything in its path.

I could see it. My mind’s eye was completely overtaken by the image of my body being consumed in flame. The gray of my coat turned the color of coal as it began to flake apart. I could feel my heart rate rise, and I began to hyperventilate. If I could summon the breath to scream, I would have been crying out at the top of my lungs.

How the hell was this supposed to help?

See now, I thought we were done questioning.

My jaw clenched as the tiny inferno continued to spread, readying myself for whatever the voice had planned.

That’s what I thought. Now, stop the fire.

WHAT! But…

It’s all in your head, kid. And, just like everything else rattling around in here, you’re in control. All these fantasies, you’ve gotta decide to make them happen. The pain ravaging your body right now, you have to reject it.

Imaginary flames continued to lick at my skin. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm the tumultuous pulse that had overtaken my heart. Slowly, a cloak of serenity fell across me, and I felt like I was beginning to take back control.

My focus turned to the encroaching blaze, and I no longer looked on in horror as my flesh cracked and fell away. It signalled that Koe was right, all I had to do was starve the flames of their fuel. The edges of the wound darkened from a burning orange, until all that remained was blackened skin.

The agony laid upon me did not disappear, but instead became more of an irritating itch. Like the nerves transmitting the sensations had been cauterized away. Obviously not ideal nor healthy, but now it wouldn’t incapacitate me.

There we go, Koe whispered congratulatory. Now get up.

My eyes shot open, and I began to take in the real surroundings. A pool of crimson continued to exude from my stomach, but the usual horror of such an injury didn’t register. Shakily, I pulled myself to my hooves. I could hear the cascade of blood continuing to patter against the floor.

The sight of my opponent beginning to climb up the rope ladder came into view. “Hey asshole,” I shouted, “is that all… all you’ve got?”

The mercenary’s head snapped toward me, showcasing his shock at my revival. “How are you still standing?”

In response, I levitated a stone from the far side of the Pit and fired it at the ascending griffin. It collided with his claw, resulting in a bone-shattering crack. A screech of pain followed his plummeting back to the cavern floor.

He laid still a moment, moaning and clutching at the now-deformed talons.

That was fucking perfect! Koe squealed in glee. Now let’s put the fear of the Goddess into him, let’s get a little nuts.

Nodding in understanding, I confidently strolled across the short distance between us. Towering over my opponent, I let a couple drops of crimson splatter against his face. The griffin’s eyes fluttered open and immediately grew to the size of saucers as he took in my gory visage.

Spurred by Koe’s words, it almost felt like the malevolent voice was speaking through me. “Aw, come on mister, we’re not done yet. I’ve got a lot more games we can play.”

The griffin’s pupils shrank back before he swiped at me with his unbroken claw. This time, however, I made no attempt to escape it. Instead, I merely caught the scything talons with my magic, instantly stopping the strike scant inches from my throat.

In a similar fashion as the mercenary had held me, I hoisted his body into the air by the restrained claw. With reckless abandon, I began to spin the griffin as a child would some string-bound toy. His form blurred as the speed increased, and panicked squawks could be heard above the whirring din.

Then, as I began to tire from the exertion, I slammed the mercenary against a wall. A sickening snap accompanied the strike, and I could clearly see his hind legs now bent to grotesque angles.

The griffin sputtered and coughed through his pained gasps as he helplessly tried to discern what just happened. His claws scraped at the floor and his wings flapped futilely as he tried to rise. The multitude of broken bones made him look like a crippled bird desperately trying take flight.

As I would hope most would upon seeing any creature in such a state, I hefted another large stone to put him out of his misery.

Ah ah ah, Koe chided. Not so fast, hero.

“What do you mean,” I asked aloud. “We won, can’t we just finish him off?”

Oh we will, the voice hissed menacingly. But we ain’t making it quick.

“But I don’t want-”

See, there’s the problem. We’re not doing what you want anymore. You still want my help? Then we’re playing by my rules. And it’s certainly not my prerogative to take mercy on those that screw with me. This piece of shit almost killed us, and he’s gonna know, to his last breath, that he fucked with the wrong pony.

“Wh-what’d you have in mind?” I asked, dreading his response.

At first there was silence, and only the tortured pants of the fallen mercenary broke it. The crowd above was also unusually quiet. As if every one of them was on the edge of their seats to see what I would decide.

I think he looks a bit thirsty, Koe finally stated, why don’t you give him a drink?

I was confused for a moment, what was I supposed to give him? Then, realization began to dawn as I slowly turned my sights toward the lethally irradiated creek that ran through the Pit. The very same I had considered using to take my own life, admittedly on more than one occasion.

A knot formed in my throat, and I gulped nervously to relieve it. A bubble of magic formed within the stream, scooping several mouthfuls of the toxic water. My skills in levitation still felt incredibly amateurish, and it was only cemented as the liquid dribbled from the spell like a soaking cloth.

Suddenly, I felt a claw wrap around my leg as it yanked me back. I tumbled to the floor, and the water splashed harmlessly back into the stream. I rolled to my back, catching sight of the wounded mercenary glaring at me with a burning hatred. His unwounded talon crushed my leg like a vise, and yet all I could feel was a mounting pressure. Koe’s mind trick must have still been working.

I kicked wildly with my free leg, bashing my hooves into the griffin’s beak. He snarled and tightened his grip before yanking me back. His talons dug into my skin, feeling like pinpricks to my numbed perceptions.

“Did you really think I’d just lay down and die?” the mercenary growled. “I’m going to rip your flesh from your bones, you demented little shit.”

My flailing grew more frantic. The blows from my hooves seemed nothing more than a minor annoyance to the griffin, and a grisly smile graced his beak as the distance between us closed. I craned my neck, trying to find something to break the mercenary’s hold.

None of the stones were near enough for me to get a proper grip, and my concentration was broken by the mounting terror.

I turned once more to the irradiated creek and began cupping as much water as I could. The magical basin slowly filled, spilling several times in my panic. Finally, I flung the contents of my spell with as much force as I could. The wave sailed over me, several burning drops dotting my coat, until the water splashed against the griffin’s head.

A shriek of pain erupted from my opponent as he instantly released his grip and clutched at his sizzling eyes. Tiny columns of smoke trailed upward as the sensitive organs began to dissolve.

Wasting no time, I immediately began to collect more of the water, this time levitating it more successfully. I galloped back toward the wounded griffin before surrounding his head in the same aura. His claw fell to his side, revealing the boiling sockets that remained of his eyes.

His panicked cries instantly became more muffled, and I began to shrink the volume of the spell. The toxic waste began pooling beneath his head, and the level continued to rise. Just before the mercenary’s beak broke the surface, a thought struck me.

A small gap appeared in the bubble of my spell. “What’s your name,” I demanded.

What’re you doing, kid? Koe asked, sounding annoyed. Finish him.

“Just give me this,” I pleaded. “Just let me remember what I’ve done.”

The voice was silent, and I took that as his acquiescence.

“What?!” the griffin cried, his voice sounding both pained and confused.

“Your name,” I repeated. “Tell me your name.”

“What do you care?” he snarled. “Finish it or don’t, but don’t waste my time.”

“I need it!” I shouted in frustration. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to be here. Doing these horrible things to anypony those shitheads point their hooves at.” My voice grew softer, “This is my way of remembering, of keeping track of everything I’ve done. I want to remember you.”

The griffin’s thrashing quieted somewhat and he leaned forward to speak. “Fine, my name is-”

Time’s up, Koe whispered.

Suddenly, the hole in my magic snapped shut and the water completely filled the bubble. The mercenary coughed and sputtered, but toxic mouthfuls soon found their way down his throat.

My magic soon dispersed, allowing the remaining water to splatter to the ground. The griffin made choking sounds and spat as much as he could, but the damage was already done. Soon enough, his coughs began splattering crimson dots. The stream increased until the mercenary was vomiting blood across the floor. Intermittent cries of torment interrupted his expulsions until he fell to his side, taking his final breaths in sodden gasps.

I stood in shock. The horrifying scene before me played out in my mind over and over again, and yet I still couldn’t accept it as fact. I had no love for my opponent, but the implications of how he’d died ravaged me in a way that none of my other kills had. All of them had been at my hooves, my decisions. Be they of sober mind or not, the choice had always been mine to make.

Hadn’t it?

“How?” I finally whispered.

How what? the voice responded.

“How did you do that? How did you make kill him?”

I didn’t do shit. Koe stated. This was all you, hero.

“You’re lying!” I shouted.

Oh really? Then let’s put it to the test. Punch yourself in the face.

“This isn’t the time to joke! Tell me, how did you do that?!”

The voice didn’t respond, further adding to my frustration. I was given little time to wait, however, as the crowd above erupted into a veracious cheer. Stomping hooves and shouts of encouragement rained down upon me.

Bullwhip beamed down, “See now y’all, th’ Pit Buck don’t disapp-”

My father suddenly flew backward, and the cracking of a rifle shot echoed through the air.

The cheers devolved into a stunned silence, none of the slavers knowing just how to react. That is, until several of their brains started splattering across the sand.

Pandemonium erupted amongst the crowd as they dove for cover. Gunshots continued to ring out, slamming into the scattering ponies. Cries of pain resonated from above.

“The Talons!” I heard somepony shout. “They brought Goddess-damned reinforcements!”

A bullet whizzed by my ear and sparked against the rocky floor. The shot snapped me back to attention, and I began to gallop away from the entrance. Sparing a glance back, I saw somepony standing at the Pit’s edge. Bookie stood shakily, a hoof nursing a wound on his left shoulder, scanning his eyes around the cavern. Upon spying me, he motioned for me to come back.

Apprehensively, I trotted toward him. With a flick of his hoof, the rope ladder tumbled down to me. “You make me rich, I save your ass. We’re even now, so get the hell outta here kid!” he shouted before turning tail and galloping off.

Gritting my teeth, I took hold of the ladder and began hauling myself up. A tightness in my stomach made the ascent difficult, and I almost began to wonder what it was until…

Yeah, your gut still looks like a used pincushion, kid, Koe said warily. Might wanna take it easy.

For the second time in my life, I emerged to a battle raging in Oasis.

The compound seemed relatively unchanged, save for a few more hovels and pens built as the operation expanded. The pens were brimming with terrified slaves, all huddled into corners

Dark-armored formations of griffins dived from the sky, peppering the panicking slavers in hails of gunfire and streaks of red. Those that still stood attempted to form a futile counterattack, firing random shots into the air. A few got lucky and managed to clip some of the attackers, sending them flailing into the ground.

Several bullets kicked up the dirt around me. Frantically I searched for a place to hide before diving beneath a nearby shed.

The battle raged on, but the outcome was easy enough to predict. Talon mercenaries continued their dive bomb assaults on the compound, and the cracking of distant of rifles indicated sniper positions somewhere out in the surrounding desert. The mercenaries were too well organized for the slavers to possibly contend with. Survivors of the first of the assault were now either fleeing or, in one horrifying case, swallowing their own barrels before the griffins had a chance to close in.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the assault was over. The final gunshots echoed into the air, and all was quiet. Hesitantly, I crawled toward the edge of the shed, peeking out at the carnage now surrounding me. The bodies of slavers lay scattered across the ground. Some still moaned in agony, a few even trying desperately to crawl away. However, several dozen of the dark-armored griffins began to touch down and immediately set to the task of cleanup. I heard a few ponies beg for mercy, before a chorus of shots quieted their plaintive cries.

After the executions, I observed them moving toward the slave pens and speaking amongst themselves. Then a single griffin approached the gates of one pen. This one was larger than the rest and wore a more ornate set of armor, with several markings decorating its battle-worn exterior. His feathers were jet black, and a set of large, strange looking rifles were strapped to his battle-saddle, shining with a menacing red glow.

The griffin leader, I assumed, threw wide the slave pen before calling out in a booming voice. “I am Axil, and allow me to be the first to congratulate you all. You have been selected to join in the most important movement to ever fall upon this wasteland. These wretches that have held you in captivity have been put down. Now your lives shall be dedicated to a far more righteous task.”

He confidently strode into the cage, and the occupants pressed themselves against the chainlink at his approach. “Our employer seeks to heal this land, to rebuild this nation to the world of peace and prosperity it once was. To that end, we now ask that you accompany us on our return to Fillydelphia, and became a critical part in his plan to reforge Equestria. Together we shall put an end to the nightmare you all have been forced to endure.

“However, those that are seeing this as an opportunity to run and continue your worthless existences in this hell are sorely mistaken. We are not your saviors, and any sign of dissent will be met with lethal repercussions. For now, your choices are still not your own. But rejoice, knowing that your sacrifice today will pave the way for future generations to live in a world with-”

The griffin was cut off as an emaciated buck made a mad dash for the exit. Before he even reached the edge of the pen, his body ignited in a brilliant orange glow. A pile of ash tumbled to the ground, revealing the mercenary leader pointing his rifles at the space the slave once occupied. Axil’s face was expressionless, and he turned back to the terrified crowd as if nothing had happened.

“Now,” he began, “onto the first order of business. We require any and all unicorns to step forward and identify yourselves. You shall be kept separate from the rest, as your talents have an even higher calling.”

These ponies were just falling into another nightmare, and no one was around to help them. Shakily, I pulled myself to my hooves and began to step out from my hiding place.

What in the holy mother of Luna’s cunt stains are you doing, dumbass?! Koe demanded.

“What I always promised to do, what I’ve been training to do. Those ponies need help, and I’m gonna save them,” I whispered back. “It’s time I start paying back for everything I’ve-”

How in the fuck are you still this stupid?! he interrupted. Didn’t that little rumble just now teach you anything? You barely survived one of those assholes, and he was unarmed. How exactly do you think going up against a whole Goddess-damned army of them is going to work out for you?

“Well- I- um-” I sputtered.

They’re gonna rip you in two faster than you can blink, he stated grimly. Now, we’ve still got a deal, don’t we?

I thought for a moment, before resignedly saying, “Yes.”

Good, then we’re doing this my way, the smart way. Gotta learn to choose your battles, hero. And this one wasn’t gonna turn out well for us. So turn your ass around, and let’s get the fuck out of here.

Ashamedly, I turned from the griffins rounding up the slaves and began to slink toward the other side of the shed. There was a clear line of sight between me and a familiar-looking gap in the defensive wall. It was a chilling realization to find myself underneath my own shed, in the exact same position as the slaves that sent me down this path to begin with.

In a cruel twist of fate, the memory was completed as a face appeared in front of me just as I was about to sprint for freedom. It was another griffin, this one a female. The feathers on her head were mostly white save for the light brown ones around her eyes and at the tips of her crest. The latter color comprised the rest of her coat and wings, though it was mostly hidden by her armor. A long scar ran diagonally across her face, sealing the left eye.

I was shocked into silence, petrified as the mercenary cocked her head at the sight of me.

Well, we’re boned, Koe interjected bluntly.

I shook in terror, my mind racing with the worst possible outcomes. What were they going to do with me? Would they throw me in with the others, or would they just shoot me on the spot? They seemed to value unicorns more highly, and I couldn’t bear to think of why that might be.

I could think of only one other option available to me.

“Please, don’t,” I begged quietly, the despair obvious in my voice.

A look of confliction grew across the griffin’s face. She quickly glanced at her comrades, then back at me.

In another desperate plea for mercy, I rolled onto my side, showcasing the gaping wound in my stomach. The pain was still far from my mind, but I hoped the horrific visage would be enough to tip the scales in her decision.

A small gasp escaped her beak, and concern replaced her expression.

“Grimfeathers!” a voice barked behind her.

She immediately spun around, snapping to attention as I spied Axil slowly approaching. My breath caught in my throat, and I could swear my heart came to a dead stop.

The jet-black griffin halted a few paces away, “Why are you not assisting the others? Need I remind you that your company has been subcontracted to-”

“Contracted,” the other griffin interrupted, “to help save your people and take out a few low-life slavers. I follow my contracts to the letter.” She made a show of turning her head nearly one hundred and eighty degrees to both sides and, I noticed joyfully, subtly took a small step to the right, completely blocking me from Axil’s view. “And I’ve done that. We’re not on Red Eye’s leash and, as far as I’m concerned, this little partnership between our companies is at an end.”

She took a few steps toward the larger griffin, shoving her face into his. “And don’t think you can speak to me like one of your subordinates, Axil. Remember, YOU needed MY help. If you hadn’t been offering so many caps for this, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

Grimfeathers began to walk away, keeping her gaze locked on Axil and, thankfully, keeping his away from me. “Send someone else with our pay when you get back. I’m done looking at you.”

A claw on her shoulder halted Grimfeather’s exit, and Axil stared deeply into her eyes. “Don’t cross me, Gawdyna,” he hissed. “If you had any sense at all, you’d have already taken Red Eye’s generous offer to join up with us. Maybe some of the others in your company would be more willing to see reason.”

“If that day ever comes,” she sneered menacingly, “I’ll shoot them myself.” With that, she shook herself free of Axil’s grasp, spread her wings, and took to the sky.

Some time later, the griffins finished rounding up the slaves of Oasis and began their march toward that Fillydelphia place.

I’d remained still beneath the shed. Not daring to move lest I risk being spotted again. When all seemed quiet, I finally emerged.

It was a slaughtering ground. I gingerly stepped over the corpses of slavers as I made my way through. The smell of blood and gunpowder hung in the air like a thick fog, almost making me gag.

However, I found no sign of Bullwhip, Bookie, or Chance.

I growled in frustration. At the very least I’d hoped that, after everything I’d been through, I could at least get the opportunity to kick my father’s and brother’s corpses. And yet it seemed their own cowardly natures had allowed them to survive. Still alive out in the wasteland, and free to continue hurting others at their leisure.

Now that I was out, they were both right at the top of my hit- I mean priority list.

Koe whistled in my head, Slavers en flambe, order up.

“We need to leave,” I responded.

Aw come on, don’t be like that. This is what we wanted, ain’t it? These assholes finally got what was coming to them. Justice has been served.

I wanted so desperately to agree. These ponies had been the source of every horrific event to fall upon me, and yet I could not bring myself to take satisfaction in their deaths. Despite every one of the innumerable wrongs the ponies of Oasis had commited, this was still the only home I’d ever known. I shed no tears for the slavers, but I also found no joy in their passing. I just felt hollow inside.
“Not like this,” I said, shaking my head. “This is just violence, no justice behind any of it. The only reason any of this should have happened would be to rescue the slaves, and they’ve just been moved from one hell to another. This was just people killing each other.”

And what would you call what we’ve been doing in that hole all these years, huh? A charity drive?

“I-”

Soup kitchen?

“If you’d just-”

Ooo, I know. Euthanasia! Putting all those poor souls out of their mis-

“Will you just shut up for two seconds!” I shouted. “The only reason I ever agreed to any of this was because you said it would make me stronger, more capable of being of hero to the ponies out here. Well guess what? We’re out now, and I’m keeping my promise.”

Well, somepony woke up on the wrong side of the killing field, the voice taunted indignantly.

Instead of responding, I started making my way toward the main building. The ramshackle tower was still standing… somehow.

Sheet metal hallways creaked and moaned as I walked through them. The usual sounds of revelry and conflict that echoed through the halls were replaced with a morbid quiet. I poked my head inside the washroom, and found the body of a slaver mare in one of the basins. She must’ve been trying to hide from the massacre outside, and yet the griffins had proven how ruthless they were in their efficiency.

Her white limbs were dangling over the edges of the tub, and a load of buckshot in her chest had dyed the water a deep red. I shuddered, knowing just how lucky I was to escape the same fate.

Continuing on, I moved into the mess hall. Luckily this room was at least free of corpses. The shelves were sparse in their supplies, but I grabbed anything that looked remotely edible and kept moving. Syringe’s old clinic was in an even worse state. Drawers, cabinets, and medical boxes had been pulled apart and thrown across the room. The Talons must’ve raided the place before leaving. Not even a single bandage was left of Oasis’s medical stock.

Disheartened, I made my way outside. I snagged an empty burlap sack on the way and dumped in my meager supplies.

I gathered my books and the music box and placed them inside the sack as well. The box’s latch came undone as I put it away, filling the air with the smile-inducing tune. A metallic clink sounded as a small medallion tumbled from inside and hit the ground.

I looked at the necklace, years of dust caked onto its exterior as it sat in the music box. The images of the two Princesses stared back at me, their steadfast expressions burning into my mind.

Breathing deeply, I lifted the cord around my head and allowed it fall across my neck. The little symbol was the only reminder I still had of my original purpose, of the dream I so desperately wanted to see realized. And its presence allowed me to believe that it was possible.

“I’m ready,” I said aloud.

“Are you now?” another voice called out.

My heart sank into my stomach. Slowly, I turned toward the source of the sound, preparing myself to flee at a moment's notice.

The female griffin from before stood atop the shack behind me. Her face was expressionless, and her gaze pierced through me with a subtle intensity. I gulped nervously and began backing away. She may saved me once, but what possible reason did she have to come back? Did she have a change of heart? Had Axil discovered what she’d done? I couldn’t be sure and, until I was, I couldn’t trust her.

“If I wanted to kill you, I woulda done it already,” she called, sensing my reservation.

With a gentle flap of her wings, she dropped to the ground in front of me. She was quiet for a moment, scanning her eyes across me with an almost academic interest.

“Well, can’t say you look like much,” she said after a while, “but anyone that can take beating like that and keep walking has got to be worth something.”

I’d almost completely forgotten about the puncture in my stomach, and I also had no idea how long Koe’s mindtrick was supposed to work.

The griffin stuck out a talon, “Gawd, Gawd Grimfeathers.”

I placed my hoof in her grasp and returned the shake. “V-Venture Forth,” I responded shakily. “Th-thank you for saving me, Ms. Grimfeathers.”

The griffin scoffed, “Please, everyone just calls me Gawd. And I didn’t do nothin’ ‘sides keep my beak shut.”

“Oh, uh, ok Ms. Gr- I mean, Gawd,” I stuttered back. “S-still you, um, you didn’t have to do that.” I thought for a moment, “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why did you help me?”

Gawd sighed, “Axil ‘n his company have been goin’ from slaver to slaver for a few months now, roundin’ up unicorns, or killing anyone that didn’t agree to at least a lil’ donation. This place here is probably the biggest operation around, so they figured a lil’ backup wasn’t such a bad idea. My company had the time and needed the caps, but I ain’t no slaver. I only agreed to back up him up if shit went south, that’s it.” She took on a softer, more sympathetic expression, “Besides, I have a couple lil’ hatchlin’s back home.” The griffin shrugged, “Chalk it up to my maternal instincts kickin’ in. Kids don’t deserve to be wrapped up in all this.”

I finally began to calm, trusting in the griffin’s character.

Mistaaaaake, Koe sang.

“I can’t even begin to thank you,” I said, ignoring the voice. “You’ve done more for me than anypony has in so long.” Tears started welling up in my eyes and a smile spread across my face. I could barely even remember the last time somepony had even given me a second glance, nonetheless showed me even a modicum of kindness. My heart swelled as I looked at the griffin, and I could barely contain it.

“Woah, woah,” Gawd said, “don’t get all sappy on me, kid. I’m new to this whole parent thing, and I got my talons full with my own.” She reached out a claw, aiming to wipe the tears from my face.

My aversion to touch ignited in that panicked moment. I recoiled instantly, swiping out with my hooves and tumbling back. Gawd retreated a few steps as I attempted to compose myself.

Looking back at her, there was no questioning or shock. Instead, Gawd had on a look of understanding, as if she’d expected my reaction to her advances. I felt ashamed. Why couldn’t I control control myself, even for a second? This griffin was trying to help me, and while my mind wanted to trust her, my body continued to fall upon its old instincts of self-preservation.

“‘T’s alright, kid,” she said softly. “They can’t hurt ya no more, t’s all over now.” She spared a glance around us, letting her sight pause upon the corpses of the fallen slavers. “Sick sons of bitches,” she hissed menacingly. After a brief pause, Gawd moved toward me again. She sat down a comfortable distance away.

“How long ya been here?” she asked.

“My whole life,” I responded.

The griffin whistled, and it took me a moment to try and wrap my mind around how she did that with a beak. “I’m sorry.” she said.

“For what?”

“Well, if for anything ‘sides some basic condolences, ain’t nothin’ that lil’ puncture you got there could be other’n a Talon merc’s claw. Believe me, I’ve seen a couple in my time.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said, although I certainly appreciated some level of remorse for what’d happened. “And it’s not like it’s even the worst of what I’ve gotten here.”

“Still has to hurt like mother fucker, don’t it? I’m shocked you’re still standin’.”

“Well, it should,” I responded, “but, um, it’s kind of a long stor-”

In that moment, a fog in my mind seemed to lift, the muddied jumble of thoughts began to realign, and all my numbed perceptions came rushing back.

My abdomen felt like it exploded.

A choked cry echoed out of my lips and I tumbled to to the ground. My breath came in panicked gasps as the inferno in my stomach raged. I thrashed and flailed, and the edges of my vision began to darken.

The silhouette of Gawd appeared in the collapsing tunnel. She was crying out something that my pain-ravaged mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

Before the world went completely dark, I heard one more voice speak out.

Nighty night, said Koe.

The following stretch of time was a blur. I recalled the feeling of being weightless and the wind rushing through my mane. The ground below was incredibly far away and rushing past at an impossible rate of speed. Finally, there was something soft beneath me and voices were murmuring in the background.

I continued to fade in and out of consciousness, but I clearly recalled the face of Gawd filling up my vision and saying, “You owe me one, kid. I don’t work for free.”

Then all was quiet.

Somepony was peeling back my lips.

“Trace amounts of blood in the gums, a sign of anemia,” I heard an elderly mare’s voice say. “He’ll need a radiation purge. Lemon dear, would you be so kind as to fetch the kit?”

“Yes Grandma,” a filly responded.

A pair of hooves started gently pressing against my stomach and I felt my muscles tighten. However, the pain I was expecting had degraded to a minor ache.

“The sutures are holding well, and I don’t see any sign of internal bleeding.” She paused a moment as I heard her approach. “You are one very lucky colt.”

Koe sputtered out a laugh.

Slowly, I began to peel open my eyes. The room was dimmed, so the assault of brightness was minimal. There was some wooden panelling along the walls. A single light illuminated the space, attached to a lazily spinning ceiling fan. I could make out some drawings hung up. Simple pictures of fillies and colts all engaging in some manner of play, obviously drawn by the very same children depicted in them. Yet they all seemed to contain the image of an older mare, generally drawn in a light blue with a greying mane.

I was laying in a large bed, and it was the single-most comfortable place I had ever been. The pillows were as plush as I imagined the clouds above to be, the blankets were a cocoon of warmth, and I felt myself sink into the mattress like a soothing bath. Were I to have my druthers, I’d never leave.

But my inquisitive mind had other plans. Begrudgingly, I forced my eyelids fully open. I first noticed the bandages wrapped around my stomach, and just the lack of pain from the area was almost euphoric. An older, unicorn mare stood at the bedside, a comforting smile on her face. Her coat was light blue, and her mane had greyed with age. The mare’s eyes matched her coat, though each was covered in a subtle white film. There were wrinkles near the edges of her eyes and mouth, giving the mare a warm, matronly look. Her cutie mark depicted a swaddled pink heart.

Her eyes lit up in glee as I awoke. “Oh thank the Goddesses,” she began, “you gave us all quite the scare, my little pony.”

I attempted to rise, but the mare placed a hoof on my chest, forcing me back. The touch erupted into a spiderweb of irritation, but I wasn’t yet coherent enough to vocalize my distress.

“Ah ah ah,” she chided. “You aren’t in any shape to be getting out of bed just yet. If there’s anything you need, I will get it for you.”

After a short consideration, I realized how incredibly thirsty I was.

“W-water… please,” I said weakly.

“Of course, my dear,” the mare responded. Her horn lit up with a white glow, capturing a tin can set on the nightstand. Gingerly, she levitated the cup to my lips and tilted it forward. The cool, clean water washed away the vileness that had been festering on my tongue and quenched the burning thirst in my throat. I tried to tilt the cup with my hooves, desperate to get more of the wondrous liquid.

“No, no,” she scolded again, “little sips.”

The can was placed back against my lips, and I continued sipping at the contents. When my mouth felt like it wasn’t caked with sand, I was finally able to speak.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The elderly mare’s smile widened, “My name is Tender Heart, but everypony around here just calls me Grandma.”

“Where is here?” I enquired further.

“Oh it’s nothing much,” Tender Heart began, “just a little place to call home I’ve been building over the years. A sanctuary for myself and the children.”

“Children?” I repeated, perking up at the word.

“Of course,” she said. “I take care of children, just like you, from all across the wasteland. Be they merely separated from their families or… well, you know. I do find the word orphanage so dreadful, but I suppose it’s near enough to the truth. I care for those who no longer have anypony to care for them, or never had any to begin with, until they’re old enough to support themselves.”

“That’s… amazing,” I stammered, awestruck at the statement. She actually… cared? About ponies other than herself? I mean, I knew the wasteland couldn’t be completely devoid of selflessness, but to find someone so quickly? It was… suspicious to say the least. Then again, all I really had to compare this place to was Oasis. Maybe my old home was more exceptional in the wasteland than I gave it credit for.

“It’s nothing, really,” Tender Heart continued. “I’ve only ever wanted to care for children. Now that mine are grown and gone, and with how many little ones there are in desperate need of a nurturing touch, I felt it only right to continue doing what I love most.”

“So you’re out here all alone? Just you and a bunch of kids?”

“We get the occasional trader now and again, but otherwise, yes,” she answered.

“Isn’t that dangerous? What about-” I began, but was interrupted by the door opening.

A yellow, earth pony filly with a bright green mane stood in the doorway. She was about my age, except she already had her cutie mark. It showed a small, boiling pot alongside an assortment of vegetables. The filly had a pale yellow medical bag, emblazoned with some pink butterflies, in her teeth.

“Oh,” the filly gasped, “you’re awake.”

“That’s right,” Tender Heart said as she motioned a hoof at the filly, “This is Lemon Tart.” She repeated the motion at me, “And this is… oh dear. I don’t believe I even asked you your name. How incredibly rude of me. What is your name, dear?”

“Venture Forth,” I responded.

“So good to meet you, Venture. And thank you, Lemon, for bringing the kit. Now, I’m sure our guest is absolutely famished. Would you be so kind as to bring him a bowl of that delectable mushroom stew you made this evening?”

“Of course, Grandma,” the filly squealed excitedly before dashing out the door. I saw her peek into the room once more before giggling and scurrying off again.

“Such a sweet girl,” Tender Heart said lovingly as she unpacked several jars and bottles the bag. “And she is very excited to meet you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s been ever so long since she’s had anypony her age around. The others are all much younger, or old enough to be heading out on their own soon enough.” she answered. Tender Heart mixed several of the substances together in my empty water can before handing it back to me. It smelled like antiseptic, but I grit my teeth and swallowed the substance. It tasted like unflavored Rad-Away, gross but not unpalatable. The subtle irritation I’d come to align with radiation poisoning began to ebb away. “You’re quite the little blessing, that is if you decide to-” the mare cut herself off.

“Decide to what?” I inquired.

“Well, I know that this is all a lot to take in, and I wouldn’t dare try to guess what you’ve been through to get here. That wound is telling enough of what kind of life you’ve lived, but if I can, I’d love to try and make the next chapter a bit easier for you.” She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to put her hoof on mine. I recoiled instantly.

Tender Heart looked hurt at first, then smiled warmly, “Trust is a hard thing to come by in this world, Venture, and I’d like to try and earn yours. So if you want it, there is a place for you here. It’s nothing glamorous, and you will certainly be expected to help out with chores, but you’ll have a safe place to sleep, three square meals a day and, most importantly, a whole lot of new friends.”

Tender Heart stood up as the door opened again. Lemon Tart had a tray balanced on her head. It carried a steaming bowl and another can of water.

“No need to answer right now,” the older mare said. The tray was wrapped in her white glow as she set it across my lap. I took a deep whiff, and found the most tantalizing scent wafting from the bowl.

“Enjoy your dinner. Just call if you need anything else, dear,” she said before ushering the excited filly out of the room.

“Wait,” I called before she left the room. Tender Heart paused and gave me an inquisitive look. “What happened to Gawd?”

“Gawd?” the mare asked, confused. “Oh, you mean that griffin that brought you here?”

I nodded.

“She was asking around Hoofsprings for a place to bring you, and I suppose somepony directed her here. I must admit, she was a bit rude. Demanded that I take you in and make sure you’re ok, even layering on a subtle threat, as if I would ever turn away a child in need,” she said the last part a bit huffily as she stuck her nose in the air. “Anyway, Gawd seemed satisfied with the quality of care here and left. She did ask me tell you that-”

“I owe her?” I interrupted.

Tender Heart harrumphed, “Indeed. What a callous individual.” Her tone turned softer once more, “Now, that is more than enough talk for one evening. You’ll need your strength, so eat up and I’ll see you in the morning.” The door swung shut behind the mare with a gentle click.

Quiet now plagued the space, save for the subtle ticking of the nearby clock.

It certainly was a lot to take in. I’d stumbled out of a living hell and into a veritable paradise. As much as I wanted to finally rejoice at my good fortune, experience kept me cautious. But what if it were true? If that were the case, then I had a lot of adjusting to do. I’d always imagined my life in the Pit coming to an end, and immediately setting out against the villains of the wasteland. Instead, I’d found a place that might give me a little more time to enjoy just being a kid. I suppose the world would still be there in a few years, and then I’d be all the more ready to take it on.

I slurped up a mouthful of the stew. An explosion of flavor erupted across my tongue, and I almost moaned in pleasure as the rich, hearty meal filled my aching belly. Within seconds I’d swallowed the entire bowl.

I laid back and placed a contended hoof on my stomach. The pain was nothing but a minor itch now, and the warmth of the stew smothered me in a cloak of exhaustion. My eyelids fluttered shut, and sleep soon returned.

The brightness of morning slowly drew me out of my peaceful slumber. I immediately shot upright and took in my surroundings. Big, comfortable bed? Check. Empty bowl from the night before? Check. Innocent drawings from grateful fillies and colts? Check. I settled down and felt the sting of joyous tears at the corners of my eyes.

It wasn’t a dream.

My psyche had become notorious for plaguing me with hopeful and wondrous visages of life outside Oasis, then crushing them with reality when I would wake. This time, however, it was real.

Goddess-dammit, kid, a familiar voice piped up, how long are you planning on lazing about in bed? We got shit to do, in case you forgot.

“You’ve been quiet,” I murmured sleepily.

What, you don’t think I can read a situation? I know when I’m not wanted.

“Sure you do,” I commented sarcastically.

Well, that’s enough shooting the shit, wouldn’t you say? Get up, hero, we got ourselves a wasteland to save.

I stayed quiet.

Unless you’re actually thinking about taking up that bitch’s offer.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snapped.

Aw, the sweet naivete of children, Koe said. Well, I guess this is as good a spot as any to get started. Let’s go see what’s fucked up about this place.

“What are you talking about,” I asked harshly.

Don’t tell me you honestly believed a word of that horse shit. Some random mare in the middle of nowhere suddenly, out of the goodness of her heart, decided to start taking care of orphans? Without anypony guarding her or getting anything in return? That’s the oldest, corniest story in the Goddess-damned book. There’s something else going on here.

“No,” I muttered angrily, “just stop it. I know what you’re trying to do, and it isn’t going to work. Don’t you see? I don’t have to fight here. I can play outside, I can sleep peacefully, I can make friends, I can just… live.”

Yeah, sure. Because it’s not like you’re carrying any baggage.

“It’ll be weird for a while, and I’ll definitely need to adjust-”

Adjust?! the voice shouted amusedly. Kid, you’ve seen more horrifying shit than a brahmin’s tail. This ain’t the kinda place for you. You’re a killer, a warrior. This namby pamby bullshit will never last. Besides, aren’t we forgetting one little issue?

As if to punctuate his point, an overwhelming sense of nausea struck me as I pitched to the side of the bed. I found the welcoming sight of an empty bucket, doubtlessly planted by Tender Heart for just such an occasion, as I emptied my stomach of my first home cooked meal. Following the expulsion, my body was struck with an unbearable chill. I shivered uncontrollably as I pulled as many blankets around myself as possible. The room began to spin, and I sealed my eyes in an effort to stave off the oncoming delirium. It wasn’t long before I came to a horrifying realization.

How long had it been since I’d taken any Rage?

A day? Two? Three? I couldn’t be sure, but it was certainly longer than any of my previous stretches of sobriety. The symptoms of withdrawal were something I was all too familiar with, and the only cure I’d ever known was to further feed my addiction. My old field medic’s briefly touched upon how to deal with soldiers being deprived their drug of choice. I clearly recalled that, in some extreme cases, withdrawal could be lethal.

I needed Rage. As much as I despised myself for thinking it, my survival was reliant on me injecting more. My mind began to race for a way to plead my case to Tender Heart, without losing my chance at being able to stay here.

Another barrage of shivering took hold, and my breathing turned to ragged, pained gasps. I tossed and turned in bed, desperate to rid myself of this torment. There wasn’t time to convince anypony, and I was in no state to try. I needed my drug, and I needed it now.

Through the discord rampaging across my thoughts, I heard the door click open. I peeled open my eyes and found the kindly, old mare standing in the doorway. Her visage passed in and out of clarity, but I managed to witness her look of concern. I also spied another can floating beside her.

Tender Heart warily approached. I felt her gently, yet firmly, secure my thrashing form. My head was tilted back, and my mouth opened. The tip of the can touched my lips, before the single most vile liquid I’d ever tasted danced across my tongue and down my throat. It was like slave gruel mixed with a dangerously high proof liquor. I wanted nothing more than to spit out whatever it was, but my jaw was pulled shut, and a massaging across my neck forced me to swallow.

Almost immediately the shaking reduced to a minor irritation, my stomach began to settle, and a bit of warmth returned. The world stopped spinning, and I looked up at the worried face of my savior.

“It’s alright, dear,” she whispered, a comforting smile spreading across her face. “Try and stay calm. The potion should help, but you’re not out of the woods yet. Let it do its work and then we must see about getting you something to eat. You’ll need all your strength if we’re going to beat this.”

“How did-” I gasped, trying to formulate a coherent thought, “how did you know?”

A bit of sadness crossed over the smiling mare’s eyes. “I’m not happy to say that you aren’t the first case of addiction I’ve had to treat amongst the children. Also, the pockmarks on your legs were a pretty clear indication.”

Tender Heart sat on the edge of the bed, keeping careful watch of me as the potion quelled my inner turmoil. When my breathing was calm once more, she scooted a bit closer and brushed aside a strand of my mane. I lurched back, once more breaking the loving touch.

“Oh,” she gasped, “I’m so sorry, dear. I completely forgot.”

“It’s ok,” I said hurriedly, wanting to smother any sense of remorse this wondrous pony could feel. “It’s not you, I swear, it’s just that I… don’t like... being... touched.”

Her smile only widened, “I understand, sweetheart. There’s no doubt your life has been unjustly hard, but I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you through this.” The smile diminished somewhat, and was replaced with a serious, but concerned expression, “However, I’m going to have to ask you something very difficult, but it’s paramount that I know to properly help you in your recovery.” She paused a moment, looking as if she was struggling greatly to find the right words, “Venture, I need to know what you’re addicted to, and for how long you’ve been taking it.”

I looked down at the bed, guilt blanketing me as I fought to find a proper response.

“Don’t be ashamed,” Tender Heart said. “This isn’t your fault. Somepony forced this curse on you, that much I can tell. But if we’re going to get you through this, the first step is knowing exactly what I’m dealing with.”

“Rage,” I murmured quietly. “Several times a week for… I don’t how how long.”

“What?!” Tender Heart responded, horror overtaking her expression. “What sort of sick, depraved monsters would force a child to-” she cut herself off before taking several deep breaths. Once she’d calmed herself, Tender Heart donned her warm smile once again. “We’re going to get you through this,” she stated confidently, “I promise.

“Now,” she continued, “I do believe I promised you some breakfast.”

My stomach gurgled in response.

Author's Note

The quote for this chapter is from Hunter S. Thompson

Paradise Found

Fallout Equestria: Insanity’s Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 4: Paradise Found

I think I’m afraid to be happy because whenever I get too happy, something bad always happens.

Thirteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

The idea of breakfast is not something I’m immediately familiar with.

Don’t get me wrong. Before I was trapped in the Pit, I always tried eating as early in the day as possible. It was usually the only time I had to get some decent food. Most of the other slavers were usually nursing a hangover that early in the morning, but were ravenous when they would finally wake. They didn’t care who or what got in their way, and fights often broke out over the more savory morsels. So what was usually referred to as “breakfast time” was more often than not my only real opportunity to eat throughout the day.

What I walked in on was an entirely alien experience.

The actual kitchen part of the room was set in an alcove on the far wall. A small stove and oven combination, a sickly yellow refrigerator with more children’s drawings decorating its exterior, and a rusted sink made up the appliances. I could see Lemon Tart standing on a chair in front of the stove, several boiling pots laid out in front of her. In the center of the room ran a long wooden table with a myriad of different chairs set up along the edges.

At least a dozen other young fillies and colts were rushing around the space. Some were setting the table with a mishmash of plates and silverware, while the rest were excitedly conversing with each other or joining in on what seemed like an impromptu game of tag.

Cries of joy and the cacophony of intermixed conversations gave off an almost palpable air of positivity. Enough so that I began to awkwardly shrink back from the experience, moving myself behind Tender Heart as we entered. It felt like my presence was upsetting the euphoric sense of unity the rest of them seemed to be experiencing.

However, my antisocial tendencies were forcibly short lived.

“Good morning, everypony,” Tender Heart called out warmly. Almost instantly, the mob of children halted their activities and dashed toward us.

“Good morning, Grandma,” they said nearly in unison.

“Oh, such politeness,” she responded fondly. “You warm this old mare’s heart. Now, as you’ve all probably heard, we have a new friend joining us today. I’d like everypony to give a big, warm welcome to Venture Forth.” Tender Heart stepped out of the way, revealing me to the curious onlookers.

Immediately they crowded around, questions flying.

“Where’re you from?” a tan colt questioned.

“Are you a wanderer, do you have any stories?” inquired a purple filly excitedly.

“You’re a big kid, where’s your cutie mark?” a small, green filly asked accusingly.

“I- um- well…,” I stammered back, overwhelmed by the attention. While none of them outright grabbed me, the small brushes against my coat as the crowd closed in set my heart at a panicked rate. Claustrophobia began to sink in, and it was getting hard to breathe.

“Alright everypony, settle down,” Tender Heart cut in, shooing back the inquisitive bunch and freeing me from the tension. “The last few days have been very taxing on Venture, and while I’m sure you all have your questions, let’s try and let him adjust first.”

“Yes, Grandma,” they responded together.

“Very good. Now, I asked Lemon to make us all a very special breakfast. How does oatmeal sound?” Tender Heart finished, raising her voice in a grand flourish as she announced the dish.

“YAY!” the children shouted. All of them rushed back toward the table and planted themselves in chairs, practically drooling as they turned their attention toward Lemon Tart.

“Oatmeal?” I asked Tender Heart. “What’s that?”

“Oh, my dear, you mean you’ve never-” she cut herself off, a look of guilt passing over her face. “I’m so sorry, Venture, I simply must stop assuming. It’s just been this bunch for so long, I forget not everypony has been so fortunate as them.” Tender Heart brightened up a bit as she led us to the table and found me a seat right next her, “Oatmeal is a delectable, hot cereal. It’s just that the preserved oats and milk are so hard to come by, we save the stores we have for special occasions.”

“What’s so special about today?” I inquired further. I also wrinkled my nose at the idea of hot cereal. Back in Oasis, a box of hot Sugar Apple Bombs usually had a pretty bad connotation.

“Why you are, Venture,” she responded, as if it were plainly obvious. “If anything in this world is worth celebrating, it’s meeting a new friend.”

“That’s… I… thank you,” I finished lamely.

Tender Heart gave me a final smile before turning her attention to a colt desperately pulling at her foreleg. As the excitement in the room continued to grow, I tried more and more to withdraw into myself. I stared down at the table, analyzing the various cracks and chips in the ancient varnish. The conversations began to devolve into a distant buzz as the walls of my mind constructed my comfortable mental barriers

A nudge from my left shattered the reclusive mirage.

I turned toward the filly, noticing her as the purple one from before. She looked younger than me and had a mane of soft blue and bright green. “Hi,” she greeted simply.

“H-hello,” I stuttered back.

She stuck out a hoof, “I’m Lilac Breeze, but you can call me Lilly if you like.” Lilac spoke with a subtle lisp, and I noticed her front teeth were missing.

We quickly tapped hooves.

“Sorry about before,” she continued. “We just don’t get to see a whole lot of new ponies out here. Everyone is really happy to meet you.”

“It’s fine,” I answered.

“So where’re you from?” Lilly asked.

“Oasis,” I responded tentatively.

Lilly gasped, “The slaver’s compound?!”

“Y-yes.” I’d really been hoping that we were far enough away from Oasis that nopony would have heard about it.

“Were you… a slave?” she asked delicately.

I was conflicted. Sure, I’d been working with them since before I could remember, but my last few years hadn’t exactly been the life of a slaver. It wouldn’t really be lying if I said yes, would it?

‘Course not, kid, Koe piped in. All that matters is that they trust you, right?

“I guess so,” I answered to both questions.

“I’m so sorry,” Lilly said guiltily. “No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it.” The filly was downcast for a moment before perking right back up and smiling at me, “But that just means you’ve never gotten to have any real friends. Well don’t worry, almost everypony here was just like you once, but we’ll show you the ropes.”

I offered a grin in return. The purple filly immediately took up my implied acquiescence and started pointing out some of the children.

She directed her hoof at Lemon Tart, “You’ve probably already met Lemon, but she’s basically the head chef around here. She’s also kinda like a big sis for all of us.” Lilly then pointed out the green, accusatory filly that had greeted me alongside her. “That’s Rowan. She might be little, but trust me, you do not want to get on her bad side. Rowan has a little bit of a temper.”

Just as Lilac Breeze said the words, the little green filly snapped her attention onto us. She made a show of pointing a hoof toward her eyes, then directing it at me. I gulped audibly before sinking down further in my seat.

Lilly snickered, “Don’t let her get to you, she’s like that with everypony.” She continued introducing the others until I had a workable idea of who everyone was. There were fourteen children in total, although I could only count twelve currently at the table.

Just as I was about to bring it up, Tender Heart began tapping a spoon on the side of her glass. The gentle ringing was enough to cut through the din of conversation and irritable grumbling from the hungrier diners. “Ok, everypony, breakfast is just about done. Does anyone know where Crankshaft and Ruby Rose are? I’d hate for them to miss out.”

Lilly leaned over over and began whispering in my ear. “They’re probably hiding somewhere-” she looked to either side and giggled like she had some risque bit of gossip, “kissing!”

The dining room door suddenly slammed open. Two disheveled ponies came stampeding in and planted themselves in some open seats across from me. One was a unicorn mare with a fiery red coat, and a mane of bright orange and burgundy. The other, an earth pony stallion, was a deep green with a jet-black mane.

They were both clearly older than anypony else at the table, probably in their late teens.

“Sorry we’re late… Grandma,” the mare gasped exhaustively. “We were uh…”

“Tidying up the bunk room,” the stallion offered quickly.

“Right!” the mare responded. “And we were just so wrapped up in it, we must have lost track of time and…”

“Ruby,” Tender Heart interrupted gently, yet authoritatively. “You know I don’t like being lied to.”

Ruby took on a panicked look, but eventually fell into resigned acceptance, “Yes, Grandma.”

“Now, I don’t expect, nor do I want, the two of you giving any details. But please try to remember that we all eat together, or not at all. The others have all been patiently waiting just for you, so please have some compassion for that.”

“Yes, Grandma,” the duo said in unison.

“I’m not trying to dissuade you from… exploring,” Tender Heart continued. The table began bursting with poorly hidden smirks and giggles.

“Grandma, please!” the stallion, Crankshaft I assumed, said desperately.

“Hush now, all of you,” Tender Heart suddenly snapped, instantly quieting the amused children. She turned her gaze back toward the mortified teenagers and brought back her warm smile, “Love is rarer than a sunny day, and these two are lucky enough to have found it in each other. We are witnessing a true blessing, children, and it’s certainly not something to be mocked.” It was now the other’s turn to lower their gazes in shame.

“I think it’s wonderful you want to be together,” the elderly mare continued. “Just promise me that you won’t get so caught up in each other that you neglect the rest of us.”

“We promise,” Ruby answered, relief in her voice.

“Also,” Tender Heart added, “it’s almost that time of year for you, Ruby. Make sure you’re very careful when-”

“Grandma!” they shouted together.

Tender Heart snickered to herself just as a loud ringing filled the room. I saw Lemon banging her stirring spoon around a metal triangle.

“Soup’s on, everypony!” she proclaimed loudly. Grateful cheers overran the table as the yellow filly circled around, ladling piles of tan mush onto all of our plates.

My reservations about oatmeal vanished as the delectable scent wafted toward me. I licked my lips in anticipation and snatched the nearby spoon in my magic. Just as I was set to pounce on the meal, somepony cleared their throat.

Tender Heart motioned toward the other children. I witnessed as they all closed their eyes, bowed their heads, and grasped the hooves of their neighbors.

“We like to say grace before eating,” she explained. “You don’t have to hold hooves, but it would be nice if you would join us.”

I sheepishly put down the silverware, bowed my head, and closed my eyes. Worried I was doing something wrong, I risked a peek toward Tender Heart. Her smile widened approvingly. “Dear Goddesses, thank you for this delicious meal we are about to receive. Thank you for bringing all of us together and keeping us safe. We are also overjoyed that you saw fit to provide us with Venture, he is surely a welcome addition to our family. For all of these blessings we offer our gratitude. In your names we pray…”

“Amen,” the table said in unison.

When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by more food on my plate. Tender Heart had a bit less, and she only continued grinning as I noticed, “You need your strength, young man. Enjoy.”

Needing no other encouragement, I beset upon the oatmeal. My eyes widened immediately as the flavor of sweet oats and cinnamon danced across my palate. The piping hot meal burned my throat on the way down, but nestled warmly in my stomach. I was almost brought to tears by the taste, and I eagerly devoured the rest of my portion.

After the last few mouthfuls, I took a much-needed breath. The table was silent save for the sounds of chewing and clinking silverware. Everypony else seemed to be relishing the meal slowly, as if it were something they were unlikely to be served again.

Finally, the last few holdouts finished and turned expectantly toward Tender Heart. She gently dabbed her mouth with a napkin before addressing us. “Thank you so much for breakfast, Lemon. It was absolutely delightful. Everypony else, time for chores.”

A collective groan reverberated throughout the room before Tender Heart cut it short, “That’s quite enough of that. Crankshaft, it’s your and Rowan’s turn to handle the dishes. The rest of you, check the chore chart to see what your job is today. Remember, my little ponies, many hooves make light work, so be sure to help each other. Once we’re done, it’s playtime.”

While they didn’t exactly seem overjoyed, there were at least fewer scowls as the children filed out of the room.

“Venture,” the elderly mare began, “would you be so kind as to assist Lemon with picking mushrooms?”

“Oh, um, of course I would Tend- I mean, Grandma?” I offered hopefully.

She looked a bit taken aback at first, before her smile erupted bigger than ever before.

The orphanage was a large, single story home. It seemed like the structure was once a soft white with a dark gray roof, but centuries of neglect had left the paint peeling, chipped, and discolored. Several shingles dangled off the gutters, and more than a few shutters hung precariously from their windows, but otherwise the building was in an impeccable state of repair.

A single dirt road led from the orphanage and wound off into the distance. Otherwise, the surrounding area was mostly open desert spotted with the occasional mesa.

Lemon Tart was already outside, waiting expectantly. “Hiya Venture,” she greeted excitedly.

“Hi,” I responded quietly.

“Well, if we want dinner tonight, we better hop to it.” She about-faced and marched off toward a nearby mesa.

I dashed after her until we were walking side by side. “Where’re we going?”

“There’s a little cave not too far from here,” she answered. “These really tasty mushrooms grown inside. Since the soil around here isn’t healthy enough for a garden, the cave is where we get most of our food.”

“You eat… wild mushrooms?” I asked, starting to feel concerned. “How do you know they’re safe?”

“Well, if they weren’t, I guess we wouldn’t be talking right now,” Lemon stated thoughtfully. “I make the stew out of them. Besides, Grandma told us they’re ok to eat.”

“Oh.” I figured it was smart not to mention I hadn’t exactly held onto that meal. Although circumstances did suggest it wasn’t the fault of the food.

“So, you’re from Oasis, huh?” she asked after a while.

“Uh… yeah,” I confirmed. But how did she-

“Lilly likes to talk,” Lemon seemed to answer. “Word of advice, if you want something kept secret, don’t tell her.”

“Oh, ok,” I responded awkwardly.

“If… if you don’t mind my asking,” she continued hesitantly, “what was it like?”

I started to panic. It wasn’t like I had numerous experiences with casual conversation, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the wrong answer might entail. Was I supposed to be honest? How could I be? But what if they found out I was lying? Would they hate me, or maybe they’d understand? What was I supposed to do?

Tell her you’re a remorseless, cold-blooded psychopath that killed slaves for one square meal a day and a creek to shit in, Koe answered flatly.

What did… why would I… huh? I thought back.

Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just contemplating telling the truth? the voice deadpanned. I thought you might need a little hint about how that might sound, genius.

It’s… it’s not that bad, I responded weakly.

Sure, what kid doesn’t have a little blood on their hooves these days? he asked sarcastically. Ooo, maybe she’ll want to hear about some of them. What about the crippled filly, or the father of four? Hey, maybe we can go way back and tell her about your brain dead, piece of shit brother.

“Stop!” I snapped aloud.

“O-ok,” Lemon replied nervously.

My face immediately flushed, “Uh… I mean… wh-what I meant to say…”

“It’s alright,” she intoned. Lemon’s face grew calmer and she offered a small, understanding smile. “If you don’t want to talk about that place, that’s fine. Everypony here has their own demons to fight. We all know how tough it is, and that most of us will probably never win. I can’t say I understand how you feel, but I do know how freeing it can be to unload some of your burden.” She stopped walking and turned toward me, “We’re a family here, and families are always there for you, no matter what.”

Lemon patted my shoulder before motioning for us to continue on.

The cave sat on the opposite side of the closest mesa. Several brittle boards hung precariously from a wooden frame around the entrance. A small signpost stood to the right, and I could barely make out the faded words: ‘No Trespassing.’

“Here we are,” Lemon announced.

“And you’re sure it’s safe?” I asked warily.

“I’ve done this hundreds of times,” she reassured. “As long as we don’t go too far in, we’ll be just fine.”

“What’s further in?”

“Well… I don’t really know, actually,” the filly admitted. “But Grandma always warned us to stay right near the entrance.”

I nodded my understanding as we entered the cave. It was nearly pitch black inside, save for several patches that gave off a soft, green glow. Lilly trotted right up to one of them, knelt down, and pulled it up in her teeth. Looking closely, I could see several mushroom stems rapidly darkening.

“Wow,” I commented.

Lemon smiled proudly as she delicately placed the fungus in her saddlebags. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I stated, still enraptured by the sight. Granted, I haven’t seen a lot of fresh produce in my life, but I could still tell this was something unique.

“Well don’t just stare at them,” she jabbed playfully. “We need a whole mess of these to feed everypony. So let’s hop to it.”

With that, we set ourselves to the task. The two of us conversed now and again, but I think she could tell that I wasn’t much of a talker, so we mostly worked in silence. I plucked a couple mouthfuls of mushrooms, noting the slight electric tang the fungus gave off when it was picked. Then I remembered something that could make this infinitely easier. With a careful thought, the green glow of the mushrooms collided with the blue of my magic, creating aqua-colored clouds that gently floated into Lemon’s saddlebags.

“I forgot how useful it was to have a unicorn’s help with this,” Lemon stated gratefully. “It’s mostly just been me since Ruby stopped helping.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Oh, you know teenagers. Always thinking they’re too important to help out with the little stuff. These days she mostly sews or... lectures. Never really gets into the nitty gritty anymore. Thinks she’s too mature for all that,” Lemon rolled her eyes.

I nodded my understanding as we continued. Soon enough, Lemon’s saddlebags were heavily sagging with the weight of the fungus. She gave the satchels an approving look, “That should be plenty, let’s head back.”

We left the cavern and set our sights back home. It was a calming sight as the structure loomed in our view. Cries of joy and thrilled laughter echoed from the dwelling, and I couldn’t help but let my smile grow.

Finally, after everything I’d been through, was it possible that the nightmare was finally over? Had I truly found a place that would give me to time to heal and prepare for the long roads ahead? Everything seemed so surreal, and yet here it was. I’d found a real home.

A blood-curdling scream cut through the air.

Ripped from the comforting daydream, Lemon and I exchanged worried looks before breaking into a full gallop back toward the orphanage.

Some of the children were scattered in front of the building, all of them trembling or on the verge of tears. A few warily stepped outside, their curiosity overcoming their fear. None of them seemed to have any clue of what was going on, or where the scream had come from.

It certainly didn’t help the situation when the roar of gunshot cut through the silence. Several of the children screamed in terror and dashed inside. Others began openly sobbing and collapsing on the ground.

“Everyone inside, now!” Lemon barked.

Several foals looked prepared to object, but seemed to think better of it. The crowd reluctantly ushered themselves back inside, save for one small, green filly.

Lemon didn’t seem surprised by this, “What happened, Rowan?”

“Fuck if I know,” she snapped back. “One minute Crankshaft and I were putting away dishes, and next thing I know somepony’s hollering like a banshee and he went running after it. He even knocked over a pile of dishes, and I suppose I’ll be expected to clean it-”

“Who was outside?” Lemon interrupted.

“Well, I think Ruby was hanging up laundry out back,” Rowan said thoughtfully. “The scream did sound a bit like the time she caught me trimming my tail with her good mane shears.”

“Where’s Grandma?”

“She got her gun and ran after Crankshaft.”

The yellow filly looked visibly relieved, “Thanks Rowan. You better get inside with everypony else.”

“What, and miss the most excitement this place has gotten in months? I don’t think so,” she responded indignantly.

Screams of terror are excitement to her? Koe commented. I’m starting to like this filly.

“Fine, then just stay here and look after everypony else,” Lemon said exasperatedly.

Rowan looked displeased, but didn’t argue.

Lemon looked back at me, “Maybe you should go inside with-”

“No,” I interrupted, starting to feel more confident. This was exactly what I had trained for, and these ponies had shown me more kindness than anyone ever had. If there was a time for me to start making good on my promise, this was it. “I can help.”

Lemon looked wary, but gave a small nod, “Let’s go.”

Several clotheslines were strung up behind the orphanage. Various pieces of clothing and bedding flapped in the gentle breeze. I also spied an upturned laundry basket, its contents splayed across the ground.

Lemon whipped her head back and forth frantically, “Grandma!”

A soft groaning answered her.

Our gazes met before we stampeded toward the sound. On the far side of the clothing, we found Tender Heart crumpled in a heap. An old, double-barreled shotgun was lying beside her.

The yellow filly dashed to the older mare’s side, tilting back her neck and taking her pulse. A bit of the tension fell from Lemon’s shoulders as Tender Heart sputtered out a cough. “Are you ok, Grandma?” she asked gently.

Tender Heart blearily opened her eyes, then focussed them out into the desert. “R-Ruby,” she croaked quietly before passing out.

Lemon looked torn as she stared at the unconscious mare, then back toward where Tender Heart had indicated. Seeing her confliction, I stepped forward and took up the gun. A jittering thrill coursed through me as the weapon lifted instantly at my touch. As small as it might seem, it was gratifying to see that I’d finally overcome one of the biggest obstacles of my youth.

I cracked open the gun’s breech and found one barrel loaded. Tender Heart must have fired the shot we heard earlier. A soft flick upward caused it to snap back together satisfyingly. “Stay with her,” I said quietly, “I’ll find Ruby.”

The filly threw me a shocked expression, “No way, it’s too dangerous for any of us to go alone. We should… “ She trailed off with a croak, then took a shaky breath in an attempt to compose herself, “We should get Grandma to safety, there’s nothing we can do for-”

“No!” I snapped loudly, causing Lemon to lurch back in surprise. “I’ll get her back, I promise.”

Without waiting for a response, I galloped off into the desert.

I found signs of a scuffle in the sand, and several sets of hoofprints leading off into the distance. A series of red dots ran parallel to the trail, causing my heart to drop. Shaking off the sensation, I continued on.

It wasn’t long before I could make out several figures on the horizon, as well as distant screams of terror. Soon, I could see five ponies walking together. Two hung back from the rest, desperately struggling against some kind of restraint.

The three in front were all earth ponies, two stallions and a mare. They were clad in makeshift armor, comprised of rusted steel plates and spikes of rebar jutting out of their pauldrons and helmets. The stallions were each armed with small, semiautomatic pistols, while the mare was sporting a bolt-action rifle. I could clearly see Ruby and Crankshaft, both bound in chains and crying for help.

“Goddess-dammit, will you shut those two up, Noose?!” the mare snapped, rubbing her eyes with a hoof. “They’re giving me a headache.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause Ah’m the one who forgot the gags, right Spike Strip?!” one of the stallions bellowed.

“Then just break their fuckin’ jaws, you uncreative prick!” Spike Strip shouted back.

“Guys, is this really the time?” the last stallion piped in. “Them Fillydelphia mercs ain’t gonna wait around forever. You two really want to lose out on what they’ll pay for this bitch on a count of you two bickerin’ like foals?”

“No, Gash,” the other two said in unison.

“That’s what I thought,” Gash, presumably, responded smugly.

“So if all we care about is the prissy lil’ unicorn, why in the hell are we still cartin’ around this pansy-ass motherfucker?” Noose asked, motioning at Crankshaft.

“Hey, stock is stock, and he was nice enough to come to us,” Gash stated while shrugging his shoulders. “With Oasis gone, ain’t like we got consistent buyers anymore. Them griffins’ll have some use for him.”

As they continued on with the conversation, I crept closer. There was a decently sized boulder near where the group had stopped, and I slinked behind it. I brought the shotgun to bear and aimed down the sights. It wasn’t an enormous distance between us, but from what I remembered, shotguns didn’t have that great of a range. I had to get closer.

The instincts I’d acquired in the Pit came rushing back in an instant as I began to formulate a strategy. A large patch of cacti stood next to the slavers, beyond that there was little other scenery beyond the mountains of sand. Around me were a plethora of different sized stones, my weapon of choice these last few years.

So a whirlwind, followed by chucking rocks? Koe asked condescendingly. You are the most unimaginative kid I know.

“An oldy but a goody,” I whispered back.

Well let’s see here, I count three jackasses we gotta kill. I reckon you can probably take out one, maybe two, before your little sandstorm dies down. That leaves one to put a nice bullet-shaped skylight in my house, and while I do have a fondness for natural lighting, I’m not totally certain you’ll appreciate it that much. I recommend taking one out before the party really kicks off.

I nodded at the voice’s crude advice, set aside the shotgun, and hefted one of the larger stones. I took several deep breaths, calming my heart into a state of battle-readiness. The entirety of my focus centered on the trio before I let the stone fly.

It arced through the air, whistling as it flew, before colliding into Gash’s helmet with a wet thunk. The sound echoed as the slaver wavered on his hooves before finally collapsing to the ground.

“What the fu- GASH!” the mare screamed before rushing to the fallen pony’s side. However, her attention swiftly focussed on the sand beginning to rise up around them in a whirling gale. The two remaining slavers were soon blinded by the stinging winds, and backed up toward their captives.

Seeing my chance, I snatched up the gun and ran headfirst into the whirlwind. Surprise was my only advantage, and I knew I had to make this distraction count. The remaining stallion was busily hacking and spitting sand out of his mouth, whilst simultaneously trying to keep it clear of his eyes. I snuck up to him and brought the barrel of the shotgun under his chin. Before I could pull the trigger, one of his flailing limbs smacked it out of my grip.

Noose’s eyes sprang open at the sudden contact and locked on me, “What in the shit!” He swiftly reached back and drew the pistol out of his holster. In my panic, I redirected the spell creating my tornado into a single point of energy at the tip of my horn. With a shout, I barreled forward and unleashed the magic, violently propelling Noose into the copse of cacti behind him. A screech of pain soon followed as the stallion attempted to free himself from the thorny prison.

I whipped back around, desperately looking for the fallen shotgun. I spied it a short distance away and started to sprint toward it. The sound of a gunshot tore through the air and a bullet planted itself right in front of me. Wheeling back, I turned to see that my whirlwind had cleared, and the last standing slaver pointing her rifle at me.

“You lil’ brat,” Spike Strip spat as she worked the bolt-action. “Who in the hell do you think you are? Those were my brothers you killed. I am going to tear you limb from-” she cut herself off as her eyes locked onto my horn. “Well now,” she said, her voice now sounding pleased, “another unicorn, ain’t that just my luck. And now I don’t have to split the pay with those two morons.” Spike Strip cackled wickedly as she stalked up to me, “Maybe I should be thankin’ ya’. Them griffins did say they just wanted grown unicorns, but I reckon they ain’t gonna pass you up.”

I froze in terror, desperately trying to think of a way out of this. My eyes scanned side to side, but the gun was too far and she’d see me trying to use my magic. I started breathing in panicked gasps, what was I going to do?

The sound of clinking chains immediately preceded Crankshaft barreling into the slaver’s side, knocking her down and landing atop her. In the scuffle, the rifle went off once more. The green stallion froze for a second, before toppling off of the mare.

I heard Ruby cry out in despair, but I ignored her. Instead, I swiftly took up the shotgun, dashed over to the fallen slaver, and shoved the barrel against her face.

BOOM!

The shotgun kicked like a mule, but I managed to keep it in my grasp. Spike Strip screamed in agony and clutched her hooves over her eyes. A black soot was splattered against the mare’s face, and rivulets of blood cascaded down her cheeks. It was… a little weird to be honest. I didn’t think there’d be much left of her face after that, nonetheless enough to scream.

I wasn’t given long to wonder, as a rustling from my side indicated Noose finally pulling himself free. The stallion was covered in hundreds of barbs sticking out of his skin, and he delicately tried to walk toward me.

I cast aside the empty shotgun and snatched the fallen rifle. The gun came between us, the sights levelled right at the slaver’s head, “Stop right there.”

Noose froze and warily lifted his hooves in surrender.

“Drop it,” I commanded, indicating the pistol still in his teeth. The gun clattered to the ground as he complied.

That’s it, Koe hissed, anticipation dripping from every word. Now finish him off.

Instinctively, I began to squeeze the trigger. Every impulse and inclination screamed at me to put the slaver down. He was just another opponent, a new threat. The safest course for myself and my newfound home was to end his life here and now.

And yet my tension on the trigger faltered. This stallion was unarmed, defenseless. He wasn’t a danger to anypony right now. Surely he could return, and if this bunch were part of some larger group, we were in for a whole lot more trouble. But in this moment, Noose was defeated. A real hero would show mercy.

Don’t be stupid, Koe snapped, anger igniting in his tone. You think this lot is just gonna forgive and forget? They’ll be coming for you and every one of these innocent little foals. It ain’t worth the risk.

And if they don’t return at all, what then? I asked. They’ll be coming back for us either way. At least like this, we have some moral ground to stand on.

You’re making a mistake, kid, the voice warned before falling silent.

I trotted up to the stallion, wary, but confident. “Now you listen to me,” I barked menacingly, “you take your friends, get the hell out of here, and tell everypony you’re involved with what you saw.” I directed my hoof back at the orphanage, “These ponies are under my protection, and I will bring down anyone that wants to threaten them. This is your first and last warning, do you understand?”

Noose’s wariness swiftly contorted into rage, “You think you’re gonna get away with this? You and every last one of those little shits are dead! Do you hear me! DE-” He was cut off as the butt of my rifle slammed into his chest, driving several of the cactus barbs further into his flesh. A sickening crack filled the air and Noose toppled back, clutching his chest and desperately trying to draw in a breath.

I shoved the barrel against his muzzle as I glared the promise of certain death into his eyes, “Do. You. Understand?”

Noose nodded slowly, his eyes wide with fear. I tilted the rifle toward the fallen slavers, giving him permission to move.

“U-um,” he stuttered, standing over Gash, “I think he’s dead.”

I spared a glance at the fallen pony, finding that the rock I’d thrown had hammered one of the pieces of rebar through the helmet and into his skull.

“Oh, uh, then just take her, I guess,” I said awkwardly, my menacing tone faltering at the realization.

After lifting one of her front hooves over his shoulders, Noose and Spike Strip limped off into the distance, sparing wary glances back at me until they disappeared from view.

I let out a shaky breath as the tension in my shoulders finally started to relax. Turning back toward the others, I found Ruby cradling Crankshaft in her lap. His face was locked in a pained grimace as he clutched a hoof over his left shoulder. It looked painful, but certainly not life-threatening. Realization began to dawn as the two looked up at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude. My heart swelled with happiness, and a smile far bigger than any I could ever remember making spread across my face.

I did it.

If breakfast was an alien experience to me, then a full blown party in my honor was by far the most bizarre thing I’d ever seen.

A small record player was blasting a copy of Pinkie’s Party Mix Volume Seventeen throughout the dining room. Piles of preserved treats were placed on the table, although they were doled out conservatively. However, a full box of chocolate Fancy Buck Snack Cakes somehow found its way into my possession, and I wolfed them down greedily. Everypony from the orphanage was in attendance, all of them gushing about my recent act of heroism.

Tender Heart, a fresh bandage wrapped around a swelling lump on her head, raised a glass bottle of Sparkle Cola, “Three cheers for Venture!”

The entire room erupted in the subsequent cheering, causing me to blush a bit, but still retain a small, proud smile.

The older mare locked her gaze on me, her eyes brimming with gratitude, and yet something else. Was it… sorrow? For the life of me I couldn’t think of why. Ruby and Crankshaft were safe, the slavers were gone, and everything was back to normal. I shook my head to banish the thought, it had to be nothing.

“Venture,” she began, “I can’t even begin to thank you. Who would have thought that we weren’t just bringing in a new member of our family, but a bonafide hero as well? You have done more for us in your short time here than anypony ever has. I know you haven’t really given us an answer yet, but I would be honored if you could call this place your new home.”

She paused at that, looking at me expectantly. The children mirrored her expression, all eyes focussed on me. “W-well, I- uh,” their eagerness to hear was almost palpable as the crowd closed in. It was tense, but not in any malicious way. Somehow, I knew they would accept my answer, no matter what. They wanted me for… me. That observation alone made the choice easy, “I would love to stay here, if you’ll all have me.”

A roaring cry of joy spread throughout the group, and I was showered with praise and excitement for what my future here would hold. Several of them approached me individually to offer their thanks or words of welcome. Crankshaft and Ruby Rose offered their gratitude for the umpteenth time, Lilac Breeze chattered endlessly about the staggering amount of fun that lie ahead, and Rowan gave me a small nod of acceptance.

When everypony had gotten their chance to speak, they returned to the party. Dancing, eating, playing pin the tail on the pony. The rampant positivity and joy was like a glass of cool water for the soul. My life seemed to have become an endless cycle of tragedy, and no matter how hard I tried, the vileness rampant throughout the wasteland just kept beating me down. But here things could be different. I may have fallen into a world of violence, but now there were ponies that cared enough about me to pull me back up.

Lemon Tart sidled up next to me, staring warmly at the scene before us, “I know you’ve heard it a thousand times already, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded simply.

“And Grandma isn’t lying, you’re the best thing that’s happened to us in so long,” she looked to the floor briefly, and I could barely make out the sight of shining tears dripping down her face. “We don’t usually get any attention from anypony, since we don’t really have anything. But ponies like those today do show up every once in awhile. Most of us are too young to be of any use as a slave, but sometimes the older ones do get taken. They’re not usually as brazen as that bunch, but every once in awhile my friends seem to just… disappear. I’m so happy you decided to stay with us, you really are a hero.”

My world ground to a halt when I felt a small kiss on my cheek.

The joyous thoughts and feelings coursing through me shattered. The sounds of celebration surrounding us slipped away, revealing an all too familiar cackle that reverberated through my mind. Memories of vile intimacy flashed before my eyes, along with the visage of a lanky, green and yellow eyed stallion. I could feel him crouched behind me, his hooves caressing my skin and his lips whispering the promise of the countless horrors he would inflict. My heart kicked itself into a panicked rate, I felt sick to my stomach, and my skin was barraged with the pricks of a thousand needles.

I’m not entirely sure when I fell off the chair, or when I started screaming.

I barely made out the record scratching as the music died. Everypony in the room turned toward us, looks of concern stricken across their faces. My panicked cries devolved into sobbing against the hardwood floor.

The room fell deathly silent, save for my feeble whimpers. My teeth chattered and tingled, as if they’d been filled with the coldest ice. My belly ached and roiled like I’d just been bucked in the abdomen. I was draped in a blanket stitched together from repressed memories, isolating me in the world I’d so dearly longed to escape.

On the edges of my perception, it sounded like somepony was calling out to me, “venture. Venture. VENTURE!”

I blearily peeled open my eyes and gazed up into the tear-filled gaze of Lemon Tart. “Venture, PLEASE!” she shouted. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just- All I wanted was…”

The filly looked conflicted, like she wanted to comfort me, but was struggling to figure out how without us touching.

Lemon looked defenseless and alone. This wasn’t fair to her, she hadn’t done anything wrong. I struggled to sit up, to try and tell her everything was ok, but the words felt lodged in my throat.

Tender Heart approached and placed a hoof on the filly’s shoulder. “Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” she whispered genlty, “I’ll take care of Venture, you go enjoy the rest of the party.”

“B-b-but…” she stuttered, “but I… I hurt him.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way,” the older mare intoned. “Venture just has his own… obstacles to overcome, you know that just as well as I do. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to be there for him every step of the way, right?” Tender Heart wiped the tears streaming down Lemon’s cheeks, “He’s done so much for us already, it’s only right that we’re here for him too.”

The filly sniffled a bit before giving a shaky nod.

“Good,” the elderly mare said comfortingly as she turned to me. “Would you like a few minutes alone, Venture?”

I too gave a reserved nod.

“Alright then,” she levitated a cup of water over to me and then motioned toward the hall. “Take as long as you need. If you feel well enough to come back, I’m sure we’d all love to have you. If you don’t, then that’s just fine. It might be a good idea to get an early night anyway.”

I took several deep breaths in an effort to compose myself before walking out into the hall. Just before I could make my escape, somepony decided to interrupt.

Look at little playcolt, Venture, Koe injected with mock pride and a subtle giggle. You keep this act up, and we’ll be riding the hero train right to pussytown.

Sh-shut up, I thought back, but something about the last part of his comment bothered me. Wait, what act?

So we’re not pretending that there isn’t anything seriously fucked up about all this to get you laid? Forgive me, I seem to have completely misread the situation. You’re still just a dumbass.

What are you talking about? I snapped back.

Oh please, like you haven’t noticed. Little miss perfect Granny seems to conveniently leave out that these kids keep getting taken by slavers, and when she heroically rushes off to save them, she just happens to be packing a gun with blanks. Yeah, nothing weird about that.

Blanks? I asked, confused by the term.

Dear sweet Celestia, you really are that stupid, Koe responded in disbelief. Ok, so when you pull the trigger of a gun, what usually happens?

It… it shoots a bullet? I answered, irritated at his condescension.

Good, A+ for you, would you like a gold star?

What are you getting at? I thought back.

Ok, now follow closely because this is where things get complicated. What happened when you pulled the trigger on that slaver bitch?

The gun fired and… and… my thoughts trailed off as the memory came rushing back. I remembered being puzzled at the time, but with everything happening so quickly, I’d forgotten.

And all she got was a little gunpowder in the face. There should have been a newly christened blood fountain where her head was, instead she just got blinded. Now Miss Tender Heart seems to be acting a little mopey, even though you just saved a couple of the kids that she claims to care so much about.

I looked toward the older mare at the voice’s observation and, sure enough, she was sitting off to the side of the room. Her cola seemed untouched, and her usual warm expression was plagued by a mounting sorrow. I hadn’t been imagining things, she was sad.

All that shit added up makes me a little suspicious, how about you?

You’re… you’re right, I admitted, terrified at my own realization. But maybe it’s nothing, maybe she’s just trying to process everything and-

Wouldn’t hurt to look into things a bit, would it?

I-I guess not.

As night began to fall, Tender Heart led me toward the bunk room. Apparently I had been recovering in her own bed, but now that I was going to be staying, it was time for me to join the others. A mishmash of different beds were housed in the space, mostly small camping cots and a couple bunks. Toys were littered across the faded, blue carpet.

We stopped at one of the cots nearest the room’s only window. “Here we are,” Tender Heart said happily. I nodded and hopped up onto the mattress. It wasn’t nearly as plush as the other bed, but still an order of magnitude better than a cave floor.

I felt a small lump under the blanket. As I pulled it back, my heart dropped. Beneath lay a familiar burlap sack, the very same that I’d packed my books, the music box, and the royal pendant.

“Oh, I completely forgot about those,” Tender Heart said sheepishly. “I was going to get them back to you.”

“It’s fine,” I said quietly, my heart swelling with happiness. I removed the wooden box, cranked the small handle, and pulled open the lid. The joyous music filled the room, and all of the children turned curiously toward it.

“That’s a beautiful music box, Venture,” Tender Heart commented. “You’re lucky to have found one that works so well. Mine isn’t in nearly as good of condition.”

“You have one too?” I asked, wonderment in my tone.

“I do,” she answered warmly, “and I’ll be sure to show you in the morning. But for right now…” The older mare trailed off as she brought a tin can into view, hovering it before me. One whiff let me know that it was the same medicine from this morning. I wrinkled my nose apprehensively, but took up the can and downed it in one gulp.

My tongue escaped my lips as the retching began, but Tender Heart was quick to offer a second cup, this one filled with water. “There now, isn’t that better?”

I nodded solemnly. It’s better than withdrawal, it’s better than withdrawal, it’s better than withdrawal, I repeated to myself, desperately trying to ignore the new roiling in my stomach.

Tender Heart smiled as she walked toward the room’s entrance. “Good night, my little ponies. Sleep well, and may Luna bless you with wonderful dreams.” The door closed with a soft click as the remaining children hopped into bed. Hushed conversations continued to play out as I laid my head back and closed my eyes.

So what’s the plan here? I thought.

Don’t worry your stupid little head, my boy, Koe answered smugly. You just drift on down to dream town, and I’ll keep an eye on these little shits. When everypony is asleep, I’ll give you a kick in the pants.

I don’t wear pants, I said puzzled.

I… just… just go to sleep, the voice stuttered frustratedly.

Exhaustion descended on me like a warm blanket, and I had no trouble in following Koe’s instructions. My eyes sealed shut, and sleep soon found me.

~~~~~

A bright light cut through the comforting darkness, causing me to shield my eyes from its assault.

“Turn that thing off, Dr. Manner, you blinded the poor kid,” a female voice called out.

The intrusive brightness extinguished, allowing me to finally see the entirety of the room. Dark wood panelling decorated the walls, and tall bookshelves were brimming with countless texts and scrolls. The furniture seemed to be mostly comprised of large, expensive-looking leather armchairs and sofas. At the edge of the space, just before an enormous window, lay a large desk.

I was seated on the floor in a corner of the room. I sat upon an obtrusively colorful carpet, decorated with various learning aids and child-like drawings. A few toys were scattered around, and I found myself pushing a red firewagon back and forth.

A unicorn mare was crouched before me. She was wearing a dark gray business suit and a pair of thin spectacles. A clipboard and pen hung suspended in the air by her side. Across the room, a similarly dressed stallion was busily putting a large examination light away, an embarrassed look on his face.

“I am so sorry about that, Venture,” the mare said with a nurturing tone. “I told him to find a softer light for us, like maybe a lamp,” she finished with an accusatory tone and directing a glare at the stallion, “but… well, it’s hard to find good help these days.”

I nodded in response, but kept my focus on steering the wagon.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” she continued, “my name is Doctor Sound Mind, and this is Doctor Bedside Manner. We’d like to talk to you for a little while, is that ok?”

Once more, I nodded.

“Excellent,” Sound Mind responded with relief. “Now, I understand that you were previously enrolled in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, is that right?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, continuing my refusal to meet her gaze.

“Now that all of the students have been transferred to Luna’s new school, how have things been going for you?”

I shrugged, “It’s still school.”

Sound Mind nodded and made a note on her clipboard, “This next question is about something a bit more sensitive. If you don’t feel like answering, that’s ok.”

I stopped pushing the toy, but gave no further response.

The mare cleared her throat, “You’ve been speaking to Doctor Radiance since… since you lost your parents, correct?”

“Yes,” I croaked quietly. The conversation had taken a turn that I knew was coming, but it didn’t stop the impact from bulldozing over my resolve.

“Well, recently she’s had some concerns over your recent sessions. She mentioned you had a dream shortly after what happened at the school, one that seemed to stick with you. Radiance asked you to draw this dream for her, do you remember?”

“I do,” I responded bluntly.

Sound Mind seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable. Before she could formulate a response, Doctor Bedside Manner approached. He held a rolled up piece of paper and unfurled it in front of us.

Depicted on the sheet was a mess of a childlike scribbling, but the overall image was disturbingly clear. It showed a cavern containing a small pony holding a sharp wooden stick in his magic. The pointed end was embedded in the throat of a supine stallion in front of him.

“Venture,” Bedside Manner began, “is the colt in this picture you?”

I nodded.

“Why did this dream have such an impact?” the doctor inquired.

“It felt real,” I stated simply.

“Do you know the stallion?” he continued.

I shook my head.

Sound Mind rejoined the conversation, “Venture, we’re concerned that this dream occurred as a result of recent events at the school.” The doctor tried to put a comforting hoof on my shoulder, but I reflexively brushed her off and refocused on the toy. “I don’t like cutting to the chase, but I feel we should talk about the… incident.”

“What incident?” I asked, genuine confusion in my voice.

“I think you know,” she responded delicately. “For somepony your age to have experienced so much trauma in such a short amount of time… we feel that your response to what’s happened is a bit concerning.”

“I have to work hard in school,” I said flatly.

“And that is normally a very important thing to do,” Sound Mind agreed. “But what happened wasn't normal, do you understand that?”

I only shrugged in response.

“Maybe we need to be a little more direct, Doctor,” Bedside Manner said.

Sound Mind looked prepared to argue, but instead fell into a look of acceptance, “Venture, we’ve spoken to a lot of your classmates since the incident. They’re all very upset by what happened, but you don’t seem to be affected by it. Why is that?”

“Ponies die, it happens. Why would that make me sad?” I deadpanned. “Especially… them.”

“You mean the zebras, correct?” the doctor asked as she scooted a bit closer to me.

I remained silent, but my hoof began to increase the pressure on my toy.

“Venture, you have to understand that those zebras weren’t soldiers,” she responded, an imploring tone in her voice. “They were refugees. Mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters all. They weren’t there to hurt anypony, just looking for a safe place to call home. These past few years have been incredibly difficult for the zebras of Equestria, and we have to realize that not all of them give their loyalty to the Empire. If we ever want to return to peace, then we must stand together.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled quietly, the wagon beginning to shake in my grasp.

“I don’t think you really believe th-” Sound Mind began, but was cut off as I took the toy up in my magic and hurled it at her head. She ducked just in time, and the firewagon sailed past and slammed into the large window, shattering the glass.

“I SAID IT DOESN’T MATTER!” I screamed at the doctors. It was like the chains reigning in the hate, confusion, and disgust I’d felt for so long were suddenly broken. A hurricane of clashing emotions roared through me, and the room began to suffer my wrath. The remaining toys sprang into the air and fired off in random directions. Rows of books and scrolls toppled from the shelves in an avalanche. Both adults sprang behind the furniture, desperately trying to escape my onslaught.

“THEY TOOK MY MOM AND DAD FROM ME! THEY LEFT ME ALONE! I HATE THEM!” I shrieked, my voice somehow overtaking the whirling din of toys and volumes.

Then, just as quickly as it began, my violent tantrum came to an end. The strength fueling my spells rushed out of me like a deflating balloon. I collapsed back to the floor, a cascade of tears streaming down my face. The colorful carpet dominated my view, infuriating me with its array of joyous colors.

“I hate them,” I repeated, whispering into the floor.

Warily, the two therapists peaked out from their hiding spots. Sound Mind slowly approached me again, before placing her hoof on my back, “It’s ok, Venture. Just let it out.”

I needed no convincing in taking the advice. My sobs came so frequently that my chest began to burn, my throat felt ragged, and the room began to blur. After a time, I quieted to a reasonable degree and lifted my head from the floor.

“C-can I go back to school now?” I asked.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea right now, Venture,” Sound Mind said delicately. “I think staying a few more days with us here at Happyhorn is the best thing for you.”

I scowled up at the doctor, preparing myself for another outburst at her insolence, when the door suddenly slammed open.

An orderly in green hospital scrubs stood in the entrance, panting heavily and with a look of horror stricken across her face.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Bedside Manner snapped as he charged toward the door. “We are in the middle of a very delicate session, and we cannot have you interrupting-”

“I’m sorry, doctors,” she panted, ironically interrupting the stallion. “But the chief of medicine said I must give you this news as soon as possible. It involves-” she spared glance at me before leaning closer to Doctor Manner and whispering, “your patient.”

Bedside Manner looked at Sound Mind, before motioning toward the door. She nodded in response before smiling at me, “We’ll finish up as soon as I come back. It’ll be quick, I promise.” With that, the therapists ushered out of the room.

Curious, I approached the closed door and placed an ear to it, focussing as hard as I could to hear what was being said on the other side.

“...been another incident at the school,” I heard the orderly say.

“No, not another group of zebras.” Sound Mind responded worriedly.

“I’m afraid it’s far worse than that,” the other mare responded.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Bedside Manner demanded. “Out with it already!”

“Luna’s school has been... attacked,” the orderly continued, obviously struggling to say the words.

A disconcerting quiet fell over the group, none of them seeming to know just how to continue. Finally, Sound Mind broke the silence, “W-what happened?”

“A new form of weapon was deployed at the school,” the orderly said morbidly. “Something the military is calling Pink Cloud. They don’t know much about it yet, but we do know that… that…”

“THAT WHAT!” Bedside Manner yelled, panic in his tone.

“That there were no survivors,” she blurted out, her voice cracking under barely repressed sobs.

Again the group fell silent, save for the heart-wrenching cries of the orderly. I stepped back from the door, not knowing quite how I was supposed to feel. My classmates, my teachers, everypony at the school was… dead?

The thoughts rushing through my mind made thinking coherently impossible, but I knew how I felt. I’d made no friends at that place, how could I? Every day I’d felt empty. Wandering the halls, going to class, eating alone, just going through the motions without any real emotional involvement.

The life I’d known had died with my parents. I’d worked hard in school for the sole reason of doing what I knew they’d want me to. But I had put no heart into it. The only thing that had kept me going, the one desire that I had truly wanted to see fulfilled was fighting back against those striped monsters.

And they were now responsible for the deaths of hundreds of children.

I couldn’t help it as my face broke out into an enormous grin, the first I’d made since the day my life changed forever. A giddiness that hadn’t found me in years electrified every part of my being. For so long I’d been told that my hate toward the zebras was unfounded and bigoted, that the fate that befell my parents was tragic, but not justification for the way I felt. But what would they say now?

I finally felt the vindication I had so desperately desired, and the only thing left for me to do was laugh. It started small, muffled giggles as my thoughts turned to the future. Soon enough, a hearty cackle slipped through my lips, one that I could no longer contain. I felt myself fall to the floor, grasping at the stitches in my sides.

The door opened once more, and the doctors trotted back in.

“How are we going to break this to him?” Sound Mind was saying.

“As gently as possible,” Bedside Manner answered. “Get in touch with his aunt, this Cloudy Dreams. She’s his guardian, she’ll have to come and approve his treatm-” he cut himself off as the pair spied me rolling on the ground, laughing harder than I could ever remember. Tears were streaming down my face from the unbridled joy I was experiencing.

As my outburst began to quiet, I wiped the tears from my eyes and levelled my gaze at the horrified therapists. “I’m going to kill them all,” I whispered.

~~~~~

HEY DUMBASS! WAKE THE FUCK UP!

I shot up in bed, blearily rubbing my eyes free from the confinement of sleep. My vision began to clear, revealing a dozen fillies and colts all slumbering peacefully. Quiet snores intermixed with relaxed breathing, forming a comforting white noise that could easily lull me back to sleep.

Instead, my mind ignited with thoughts about the dream. Such a vision had happened once before, long ago when I’d first arrived in the Pit. The colt that shared my name seemed to have grown alongside me. Thinking logically, time seemed to have passed at the same rate for both of us.

I hadn’t thought of that dream since the night I’d had it. A young colt discovering his father dying in the line of duty, followed by his mother’s suicide. It wasn’t exactly the happiest memory, and I’d been content to forget it. At the time, I’d brushed it off as my mind’s reaction to the horrors I’d been forced to partake in.

But why then had another dream, a sequel to the events I’d seen before, play out for me now? The incidents discussed had no real meaning… all except one. The drawing of this colt’s supposed dream aligned with my final days in the Pit. It was a perfect, if crude, visualization of that stallion’s, Trim’s, execution.

The significance of that slammed into me like a stampeding bull. Not only was I bearing witness to this colt’s darkest moments, was he also seeing mine? Was it possible that we shared some connection? Across all of time and space, two foals had founded some strange mental link, providing some measure of empathy and compassion at our lowest points.

Or have I finally just fucking lost it?

I was given precious little time to continue musing as Koe ‘helpfully’ reminded me, Hey, earth to Venture. Are we doing this, or are you ok just laying back and popping a couple fuckitols?

“Mrmmf,” I moaned blearily, still trying to fully wake myself up.

Dear Goddess almighty, he speaks! he exclaimed with mock surprise.

“Ok, ok, I’m up,” I whispered.

Fantastic, now step two might be a little beyond your abilities, but it involves moving your fucking legs.

“Shut up,” I hissed back. However, I had to follow the instructions eventually, so I stepped down from the bed and carefully began sneaking out of the room. Navigating the minefield of toys proved far more difficult than I could have imagined. Eventually, I was scant feet from the exit when a soft squeaking rang out from beneath my hoof.

It may as well have been a gunshot with how it cut through the comforting quiet. My attention immediately snapped onto the stuffed bunny under my hoof. A nearby pony immediately sat up in bed and locked her eyes on me.

Rowan stared through sleep-riddled eyes, a neutral expression on her face. “Wh… wha’s goin’ on? What’re you up to?”

“Uh… I… nothing?” I offered desperately. “You’re um… this is just…”

Amazing performance, truly a masterwork of thespianism. Now, how about you actually COME UP WITH A BELIEVABLE LIE YOU INCORRIGIBLE FUCK!

“You’re just dreaming!” I blurted out.

I… you… really? Koe stuttered.

Rowan cocked her head in confusion for a second, then stared down at her blankets, “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” I whispered quickly, flashing what had to be the fakest looking smile in history as a torrent of sweat dripped down my face. “Just a dream and you, uh, need to go back to sleep or the… lollipop queen won’t show up?”

Wow, this is just getting sad.

The filly looked perplexed, “So I didn’t actually wet the bed… again?”

“No?” I responded.

“Oh, ok,” Rowan said happily, apparently satisfied. Her head fell back onto the pillow as she nestled back into her soiled bedding.

...ew.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I carefully opened the door and made my way out into the hall.

Ok, so now what? I asked.

Well, let’s see. Who, exactly, is it that we’re interested in seeing right now?

Uh, Tender Heart?

Good. So, do you think there’s somepony we should probably check on? the voice asked patronizingly.

You don’t have to be such a jerk about it, I thought back as we made our way toward Grandma’s room.

Kid, you might have a few good moves, but you’ve got the critical thinking skills of a fucking stump.

I was considering my response, when Tender Heart’s door suddenly began creaking open. My heart dropped as I dove under a nearby table. A subtle light briefly illuminated the halls as a spell was quietly cast. The elderly pony then crept out, her hoofsteps entirely silenced. After a brief look around the hall, she made her way toward the living room and out the front door.

Well, well, well, Koe said smugly. That’s a little suspicious, ain’t it?

It could be nothing, I responded. Maybe she’s just… um… what if she’s just-

We’re not gonna know shit if you keep sitting here making excuses.

I solemnly nodded in agreement before following after the mare. It was nearly pitch black outside, not even the smallest hole in the cloud layer above. But I did manage to glimpse the edge of Tender Heart’s tail slipping behind the orphanage.

Quietly, I continued trailing behind her, now more focussed on avoiding anything that would give me away. The last thing I needed was another squeaking bunny.

I paused at the corner of the home, peering around it to try and ascertain where Grandma was heading next. She sat in the midst of the clotheslines, looking out into the desert. A small light illuminated her horn, not enough to clear the darkness, but plenty to let anypony nearby see where she was.

My head cocked at the sight. She almost seemed to be expecting somepony.

The minutes dragged on as we waited. Tender Heart didn’t move an inch and a seed of worry began to sprout in my mind. I was almost prepared to approach her, ready to finally dispel the doubt that Koe seemed so intent on creating, when another figure began to approach from the other side of the house.

It stalked up to Grandma, making no noise or announcing its presence. My worry turned to panic as I readied myself to bound out into the open, screaming a warning at the unaware mare, when she began to speak, “How are you, Lasso?”

“I told ya to stop callin’ me that,” a familiar, male voice answered.

“And I told you that I would never stoop to calling you those disgusting nicknames you gave yourselves,” Tender Heart responded, her voice cracking slightly.

The stallion groaned, “Ain’t like it matters. What does is how much you fucked up today.”

“I… f-worded up?” Grandma asked incredulously. “None of you told me that you’d be coming here today. I could have had time to prepare, make things easier for you. Instead-”

“Oasis is gone, you dumb bitch,” he snarled. “Them Fillydelphia mercs were our last chance for a payout for who knows how long. We had to act, but now Gash is dead, Spike Strip is blind, and it’s all your fault.”

I gasped quietly. I knew I’d recognized that voice. Before I could question what in Celestia’s name was going on, they continued.

“How is it my fault?” Tender Heart asked, sounding hurt. “I did what I’ve always done. Brought in a child that needed a home and made him feel welcome. How was I supposed to know what he was capable of? What did you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know, maybe not give him a fuckin’ shotgun and send him runnin’ off after us?” Noose nearly shouted.

“You knocked me out, remember?” she snapped back. “Besides, I was using those shells you gave me. He shouldn’t have been able to hurt anypony.”

“Well, looks like he figured out how now doesn’t it,” Noose responded. “Now he’s killed one of your own and maimed another. If you want us to let you keep this little farm-”

“Orphanage,” Grandma interjected venomously. “Don’t you dare call it that.”

“Whatever. I mean keep this ‘orphanage’ going, then you have to take care of him.”

“WHAT!” Tender Heart cried before covering her mouth. After calming herself, she continued, “You expect me to… kill him?”

“Either that, or we go ahead and salvage what stock we can out of this place now, and then we kill him.” Noose approached Tender Heart and forced their gazes to meet, “If you really care about the rest of those kids, you’ll do what it takes to make sure they get to live out their foalhoods as comfortably as possible. If you don’t, they’re gonna be livin’ it out in chains.”

With that, the stallion about-faced and marched off toward the desert. Before he disappeared from view, Tender Heart spoke again, “Can you at least say it?”

“Say wha- oh you can’t be fuckin’ serious,” Noose snarled frustratedly.

“I’ve sold my soul for you three!” she cried out, sounding as if her heart were being ripped from her chest. “I’ve given up everything that’s made me who I am. I lie to these children every day, and I have to look into their innocent little eyes knowing what you’re planning for them. At least just tell me the one thing I want to hear. It doesn’t have to be the truth, I just need to hear it. Please.” A gentle sobbing rose up from the elderly mare as she buried her muzzle in her forelegs.

“Ugh,” Noose groaned, obviously displeased, “fine.” The stallion cleared his throat and adopted a gentler tone.

“I love you, mom.”

A Happy Home

Fallout Equestria: Insanity’s Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 5: A Happy Home

There's no happy endings not here and not now
This tale is all sorrows and woes
You dream that justice and peace win the day
But that's not how the story goes

Thirteen Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

This can’t be real.

Oh it’s real, bub. That just happened.

I laid supine on the mattress, gazing wide eyed at the darkened ceiling. My limbs felt stiff, my chest grew cold, and my mind buzzed at a feverish pace. This was wrong, that couldn’t have happened. How was it possible?

You’ve known the bitch for, like, two days, Koe commented. Did you really think you had her all figured out? That, my boy, is pretty arrogant if you ask me.

I didn’t ask you, I thought back contemptuously.

Oh cry me a river, build me a bridge, and GET THE FUCK OVER IT! the voice snapped back angrily. What, you thought we’d get your ass outta that hole and everything would be sunshine and Goddess-damned rainbows? News flash, shit for brains, the world is pretty screwed up. No amount of wittle famiwies, cutsie wittle parties, or twitterpated fillies is gonna put the bombs back in the sky. Everypony is just trying to survive. Some of them do it a teensy bit less morally than others, and that’s what we’re here to fix. Doesn’t matter if they’re bloodlusting raiders, or lying, slaving grandmas. This is what you wanted, kid. This is the world you’re out here to save. Are you ready for it?

Why?

Why what?

“Why does it have to be this way?” I whispered aloud. “Why do ponies have to hurt each other like this?” An audible sob passed my lips, forcing my chest to heave and shattering the ice that had been paralyzing my limbs. A torrent of emotions poured forth from the crumbling numbness, wracking my body with its horrors as the fantasy collapsed.

I’d finally found a home and a family that cared about me. But was it all a lie? No, it couldn’t be. I wouldn’t believe it. There was no way that-

And there’s the denial. Step one complete.

I- I’m not-

You wanna know why, kid? Koe asked knowingly. You really wanna know why?

I nodded reservedly.

Ponies have always been like this.

I shot up in bed, What?

Well not just ponies I suppose, but yeah. Every one of you squishy fleshbags are pretty much exactly the same when it comes to survival, you’ll do anything for it.

No, that’s not right. Ponies used to live in peace, everyone did.

Yeah, when the world was made out of gumdrops and icecream. You see, that’s the thing. Once upon a time, what your ancestors might call a conflict, we’d probably find pretty fucking funny. A bad mane day, a prank gone too far, a disagreement over the value in minute differences in efficiency of certain vintages of pie tins.

That’s… specific.

Pipe down, I’m trying to make a point. So, once the comfortable times ended, your people were faced with a very different outlook on the world. Gone were the days of afternoon naps, going out for milkshakes, and slumber parties. Now there was this little thing called war, something you lot never really had to deal with.

Things weren’t quite so black and white anymore. In war, there are no cackling, moustache-twirling villains. Just the bleak reality that innocent people on either side could lose a loved one at a moments notice. They’d want revenge, and voila. The war is supported to satisfy everypony’s hate-boners, and the vicious circle keeps on spinning until its glorious, balefire-powered conclusion.

So you see, it’s not so difficult to understand. With the fabulous motivation that is the fear of death, this world of peace and happiness finally crumbled to ash. Rather than face that fact, most are willing to just go on with their days, doing whatever necessary to protect the artificial segments of happiness they’ve claimed.

And that’s what we’re fighting against, I responded, beginning to see the logic in Koe’s explanation.

Now you’re catching on, he responded, sounding pleased. I tried to warn you, kid. You can’t get too attached anywhere, it’ll only lead to more situations like this. I keep saying it and, no matter what, it’ll always be the truth. The voice grew softer with almost velvety intonations, I’m your only real friend in the world, the only one that understands you.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered aloud. “You’re the only one that’s always been there for me. You just say things that hurt so much, I just… I don’t… “

The truth hurts, but what kind of friend would I be if all I did was lie to you?

“I’m sorry, Koe,” I repeated, my voice cracking. “You’re my best friend.”

Nopony will ever understand you the way I do, Venture. It’s just the two of us against the world.

“Good morning everypony!” Tender Heart cried warmly.

My eyes peeled open slowly as the room came into focus. The others were groaning with exhaustion or sitting up in bed, rubbing their eyes. The few fitful hours of sleep I’d managed weighed on my mind like a wet blanket. My thoughts felt muddied and sluggish, the pieces clumsily falling into place as the elderly mare approached me.

“And a very special good morning to you, Venture,” she said lovingly. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” I answered quickly, averting my eyes as the memories of last night came rushing back.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Tender Heart responded. “And I hate to put a damper on such a lovely morning, but…” she trailed off as she levitated a can full of the withdrawal medicine over to me.

I took it delicately, continuing my refusal to meet her gaze, “Thanks.”

A look of concern passed over Tender Heart’s face, seeming prepared to question further, when Rowan dashed toward us and began pulling at the elderly mare’s leg.

“Grandma!” she hissed in a panicked whisper. “I… I kinda… did it again.”

“Oh Rowan,” Tender Heart intoned. “Ok, you go get cleaned up, and I’ll take care of this little… accident.”

The filly looked visibly relieved as the pair shuffled off to clean up. I looked into the can, spying my reflection staring right back from the clear, shimmering liquid. I took a deep breath in preparation before lifting the vile medicine to my lips.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

Why?

Duh, I don’t know, the voice said in mocking tone, maybe because she was talking about killing you last night?

It seemed, compared to every other discovery, that little tidbit had somehow slipped my mind. You don’t think she’s actually going to-

She didn’t exactly say no.

As much as I didn’t want to think it to be true, he had a point. I couldn’t deny the very real possibility of Tender Heart trying to poison me. In fact, that would probably be the smartest way to go about it.

I casually opened the window above my bed and tossed the medicine out. But what about my-

Gonna have to muscle through the shakes for now, kid. Only way to make sure you get her before she gets you.

I nodded in agreement.

“Ok, everypony!” Tender Heart announced, a bundle of sheets floating behind her back. “Wash up and get ready for breakfast.”

I began to climb down from bed, but paused and grimaced. I can’t eat what she gives me either, can I?

Koe said nothing, but I could almost visualize him grinning and shaking his head.

“Hey Lemon, can I ask you something?” I questioned, shattering the uncomfortable silence that had befallen the mushroom cavern.

I’d just finished placing a bushel in her saddlebags. My stomach rumbled irritably, but the clashing nausea was more than enough to keep my mind off it. Even so, I choked down a few of the raw fungus caps when Lemon wasn’t looking. I didn’t want to worry her, but it also didn’t seem like the best idea to be dealing with hunger alongside whatever side effects my withdrawal would unleash.

“Well, Mr. Lazybones, I know we didn’t use the mushrooms we picked yesterday, but I refuse to use anything but the freshest ingredients,” she stuck her nose in the air haughtily. “I have incredibly high standards, in case you haven’t noticed.” The filly’s air of superiority cracked when she broke out a joking smile.

I tried to return the gesture, but my grin faltered, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I know,” she replied solemnly. ”Listen, about the party. I shouldn’t have just assumed you were going to be ok with that. It was insensitive of me, and totally inappropriate. We were all so thankful for what you did that I was overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry, and I hope we can move past it.”

“No I… I mean it’s… it’s ok,” I sputtered, caught off guard by the apology. “I know you were trying to be nice, I just have this thing about being... touched. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, it’s-”

“You don’t have to say anymore,” Lemon interrupted, adopting an understanding tone. “I’m here as a friend if you ever need me, but don’t feel obligated to explain to anypony what’s happened to you. If you want to talk we can talk, but only if it’s for you, not me.”

“Thank you,” I replied, elated as the tension in the room faltered. “But that’s not what I meant either.”

The filly cocked her head quizzically, “Then what’s up?”

“It might be a sensitive subject,” I answered warily.

She nodded, “Go ahead, but if this is something I’m not comfortable discussing, I hope you’ll understand in the same way I would for you.”

“I will, I promise,” I said hurriedly. “It’s just, yesterday you said that some of the other kids go missing from time to time.”

“Yes, I did,” Lemon stated simply, keeping her voice steady.

“Well, I was wondering if you maybe know… how?”

She sighed shakily, “I already told you. Slavers, just like the ones yesterday.”

“Have you ever seen them?” I inquired further.

“Why do you want to know about all this?” the filly asked suspiciously, the warmth ebbing from her voice.

“How else am I going to start protecting this place?” I said without thinking. “If we’re going to find a way to keep the slavers away, I need to know everything.”

I blinked rapidly. Those hadn’t been my words. What just-

I got your back, kid, Koe whispered reassuringly.

Wha- how did you-

Let’s not focus on the how, let’s focus on the why, the voice replied, sounding annoyed. You ain’t exactly Mr. Smooth when it comes to thinking on your hooves. I’m just keeping the conversation going.

Lemon nodded slowly, “I guess you’re right. Nopony else has been able to stand up to them like that, you deserve to know everything.”

Shall I take a bow?

She continued, “It started a few years ago, at least as far as I know. A few of the older orphans were about to head out on their own. It was the first group since I got here, and it was just days of parties and tearful goodbyes. They were talking about all the treasure and stories they’d bring back.” Lemon paused a moment as her lips curved up, “It really was a happy time.”

“The night before they were supposed to leave, we were outside having a big picnic dinner. That’s when… they showed up,” Lemon’s voice grew hoarse and shaky as she recalled the event. “A group of ponies charged out of the darkness, firing guns, shouting, and beating down anypony that tried to… to run,” her speech began to falter.

“Lemon, you don’t have to keep- ke…” I trailed off as my tongue fell limp. I tried to get the words out, wanting to show her the same kindness she’d offered. This was obviously a traumatic memory, and I knew exactly how painful those could be.

Why can’t I talk?

Let her finish.

But she’s-

Let. Her. Finish, the voice commanded sternly. I know it hurts now, but we need to know for sure.

Lemon took a breath to compose herself, “Sorry, I don’t like thinking about it. After rounding us all up they put chains on the older kids. We begged and pleaded for them to stop. To take any of us. Instead they- they-”

“They what!” Koe forced me to snap.

The filly lurched back in surprise before continuing, “They shot Rowan’s brother.”

“They- shot- “ I stuttered helplessly.

Lemon nodded, tears beginning to drip down her cheeks, “Redwood, my best friend. The three of us arrived together after we lost our home. Rowan was barely old enough to walk, and I was too shocked to speak. We never would have made it without him.” She looked back at me with a small bit of joy sparkling amongst the tears, “You and he are a lot alike.

“Redwood was the only one of us brave enough to stand up to them. He got right in their faces and told them they weren’t leaving,” she trailed off and gazed at the floor. “They never even gave him a second look, just pulled out a pistol and killed him.” Another sob broke through her speech.

“After that, they left. I’ve never seen them again since that night, but every once in awhile some of the older kids go missing. Grandma always says they ran away, or maybe the geckos got them… which probably isn’t that far fetched. They can gulp down anything short of a full grown stallion. But I always had a feeling she was just trying to make us feel better. That those slavers are still out there.”

“Do you remember what they looked like?”

She shook her head, “It was dark and they were all wearing armor.” The filly furrowed her brow in thought, “But I think there were three of them, and the one that talked to us sounded like a mare.”

Oh no, “D-did any of them ever say their names?”

“Yeah,” she responded, realization dawning in her tone. “I remember two of them started arguing, and the last one had to break them up. I think they called him… Stash? Brash? Maybe…”

“Gash?” I offered hesitantly.

We locked gazes as Lemon nodded.

“How?”

How what?

“You know what I’m talking about,” I grumbled irritably as I idly drew circles in the sand beneath my hooves.

I stood stoically on the side of the orphanage, absently watching the other children at play. Most had joined in on a game of hide and seek and… well I’ll be damned if they didn’t make the most out of playing in an open desert.

My breathing had turned to deep, though shaky respirations. A familiar murkiness sought to encroach across my mind as a roiling beset upon my stomach. My limbs grew weary and subtly convulsed as each wave of withdrawal breached across me.

Oh, you mean the whole ‘stopped you from making a complete and total ass of yourself thing?’ Is that what you’re talking about?

“No,” I spat, “how did you make me say those things?”

I didn’t make you do anything, Koe snarled. I just gave the part of you that knew what needed to be done a little… invigorating shake. I told you, kid, I know you better than anypony ever will.

“But we already knew what was going on!” I shot back. “Why did we have to put her through that?”

So we could be sure, he responded simply. I can’t make you do anything you don’t already want to do, and I could tell you still had reservations about Ol’ Granny Slaver. Now we know, definitively, what needs to be done.

I gulped nervously, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Don’t know if you can what?” a filly’s voice said from behind.

I nearly leapt from my skin at the sudden intrusion. My head whipped around to find Rowan cocking her head. “Who in the hay are you talking to?”

Way to go, Venture, but if you really want to sell the whole ‘bat shit crazy’ persona, then might I suggest more random bouts of maniacal cackling.

“I… uh… n-nopony?” I answered lamely.

“Got an imaginary friend, huh?” she inquired flatly. “I had one of those once. His name was Finnius Thornsquatter, a giant, pink, flammable ice-cream breathing chicken. Oh I’d ride on his back all across the wasteland,” the filly said sentimentally as she panned a hoof through the air. “We’d bring delectable treats to the hungry near and far. But they would soon realize the trap I’d set when the first pile of mint chip burst into flames. The peasants would cower as their new, vengeful god provided for them, then stole it away. I would be their ruler, their queen!” She rose up on her hind hooves, “All hail Queen Rowan! All hail Queen Rowan! All hail-”

She cut herself off as she spied my wide-eyed, blank look.

“Don’t stare at me like that. I’m not weird.”

“I wasn’t, I mean, I don’t think that-” I stammered

“Well,” she interrupted, “maybe if you’re done talking to your imaginary friends, you can come try and make some real ones.” Rowan beckoned me to follow.

We rounded the corner of the house to find the other children huddled together, conversing fiercely about who should seek next.

“Rowan found Lilly first, so that means it has to be her!” a tan colt, Dune Rider I believed, snapped angrily.

“Nuh-uh,” the purple filly responded defensively. “She found you last, but you still got tagged. That’s the rules.”

“Well it’s a stupid rule,” he whined. “Why should the best hider ever have to be it?”

“Simmer down, y’all,” Rowan said coolly as she stepped between them. “We’ve got a new player, so that means he’s it.” She tossed her gaze back at me, “That’s ok, isn’t it?”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine,” I responded hurriedly.

We don’t have time for this, Koe said disapprovingly. Unless you’ve forgotten, more than a couple clocks are ticking.

As if in response, my front legs began to quiver and a disquieting fatigue settled across me. Breathing became harder and what little I managed came in shaky gasps.

I’m fine, I thought back harshly. We can’t do anything about Tender Heart right now, so we might as well-

What, let you keep living out this deluded little fantasy? the voice snapped.

Try not to draw attention to ourselves, I finished.

Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason you want to play. Go ahead, have fun. Keep making it harder for yourself when we finally have to rip this cutsie little band aid off.

“Hey, you doing alright?” Rowan asked. “If you don’t want to be it, that’s fine. No need to go getting sick over it.”

I realized then that I was staring dully toward the ground and my respiring was clearly audible. “Uh, n-no. I’m fine, really.”

“Ok, if you say so,” she said warily. “So, the rules are pretty simple. You close your eyes and count to fifty while we hide. After that, you come looking for us. The boundaries are from the backyard fence to the mushroom cave. When you find somepony, call out their name and then try to tag them. If they can get back to the house first, then they’re safe from being it next round and, if you can’t tag anypony, then you’re it again. Make sense?”

“Got it,” I said confidently, trying to mask the turmoil inside of me. I turned from the group and sealed my eyes shut.

“One, two, three…” I began as the sound of little hoofsteps bounded in every direction.

You really think this is a good idea, don’t you?

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” I continued, ignoring him.

I know how bad you’re hurting right now, kid. It’s torture, and the sooner we put this old bitch six feet under, the sooner we can take care of it.

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…”

Why do you keep delaying? We’ve put down dozens of ponies with more tragic backstories than this. What are you so afraid of?

“Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…”

Oh. My. Goddess. You actually think there’s another way don’t you? You’re gonna try to find a way to reason with Granny Slaver.

“Forty, forty-one, forty-two…”

There’s not always an answer to every problem, kid. Sometimes you just have to act. You’re in no shape to stave off the inevitable. We both know that whatever cocamany shit plan you try and piece together-

“Forty-eight, forty-nine…”

Is going to fail.

“Fifty,” I turned back and found myself alone.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

“Dune!” I shouted enthusiastically before galloping after the colt.

He cried out before dashing from the burrow he’d nestled in.

My lungs burned from the strain, and the wind stung at my eyes as we raced back toward the house. The blanketing lethargy brought on through the withdrawal seemed just a distant annoyance,

I felt giddier now than I could ever recall being. This was a moment I never knew how badly I craved. My heart pounding with adrenaline, a continual chuckle in my throat, the cheers and acclaim raining from the other children.

From my friends.

You’re making a big mistake, boss, Koe said cooly.

The voices grim warning was the furthest thing from my mind as I casually tapped Dune’s shoulder, but careful to not retain the contact for too long. A dismaying wail echoed from the colt.

“Aw feathers,” he swore loudly.

“Haha,” Rowan laughed, clapping her hooves. “Serves you right. You know Grandma doesn’t like us hiding in gecko dens. Even so, what was that? Twenty meters away?” she giggled again. “Lazy.”

“He found you first, didn’t he?” Dune hissed annoyedly. “You were closer than I was.”

“Yeah, but I’m actually fast,” Rowan responded haughtily. “I just had to get back before him, and y’all know nopony can catch me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dune growled frustratedly. “Just you wait till next round. I’ll get you then.”

Rowan rolled her eyes before levelling her gaze back at me, “So, that just leaves Lily and you’ve got us all.”

I furrowed my brow, “But I’ve looked everywhere. Where could she be?”

“You haven’t checked the cave.”

“You mean inside?”

“Yessiree,” she answered happily. “It might take you a while, she’s gotten pretty good at finding places to hide in there.”

I smiled confidently, “I know my way around caves.”

Understatement of the century.

With that, we set off toward the mushroom cave. Koe fell silent again, and I took the break with relief. It seemed every conversation changed my opinion on the voice. One moment he’d be the only one speaking sense while guiding me through the world and ensuring our survival. The next he would be unconscionably cruel and constantly coercing me into committing more acts of violence. But maybe that was just my own perception. Perhaps he was consistent in all things he asked of me, but my own ethics continued getting in the way. I just didn’t know what to think of him anymore.

The mouth of the cave was soon upon me, and I gazed into the darkened abyss. There was a no magic rule, so I’d have to rely on the dimly lit fungi to navigate. Trotting inside, I didn’t see any immediate sign of Lilac Breeze. However, I spied several broken stalks leading deeper into the cavern.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to go that far in,” I said aloud. Silence responded as I attempted to give the voice a chance to chime in. He didn’t.

“Great, now I really am just talking to myself,” I muttered.

Continuing deeper into the darkness, the patches of mushrooms grew fewer and further between until the last light faded into the background. A disconcerting familiarity tickled at the back of my mind. Before I could even comprehend what I was feeling, a scraping to my right had me whipping around and immediately forgetting the rules as my horn burst into light. The muted blue beam showed nothing from where the sound originated. A louder repeat of the noise resounded from behind me as I whipped about again. Once more, there was nothing.

I slowly began backing out of the cave, my eyes darting back and forth and very nearly hyperventilating.

‘Please, don’t,’ a voice called out softly. I turned toward it, and the image of a mare bleeding profusely from her stomach flashed across my vision. She had her hooves raised in a pleading manner as the terror of impending death shone brightly in her gaze. A thin, red line appeared across her throat, spraying blood in a fanning arc.

I ripped my eyes away from the sight and began moving more quickly toward the entrance of the cave.

‘You’re gonna die, you hear me! I’ll fucking kill you! Get away from me! Get away!’ another voice cried out followed by the hazy recollection of a newly crippled stallion. His bottom half futilely flopped about as he desperately dragged himself away from me. A rock appeared to fling from my grasp and crush the stallion’s skull.

I cried out in terror as the familiar vision played out before me. I broke into a full gallop, desperate to escape the torturous memories.

‘I have kids!’ another shrieked. A stallion, battered with cuts and bruises, limped along the wall beside me. ‘I can’t die now! Please I-” his words were cut off when a blue aura surrounded his throat and crushed his windpipe. He fell to the ground, thrashing and clawing at his neck until he finally lie still.

“STOP IT!” I shouted, “PLEASE!”

Another shade shimmered into view. An enormous stallion, impaled across a stalagmite. His hooves flapped futilely against the stone. ‘Ah… love ya… lil broth-’, Pike gasped, succumbing to his wounds and collapsing in the reservoir of blood below.

I fell to the ground, desperately closing my eyes and pressing my hooves around my ears, but the voices still found a way in. Like moths fluttering around inside my skull, I couldn’t ignore their pain and terror. Their screams echoed throughout my mind, coalescing into a screeching chorus.

“Hey, are you ok?” another voice called out.

The levees of my mind crumbled. I couldn’t endure this torture any longer. The memories, the withdrawal, the hunger. They all united in an unending assault that battered my resolve into nothingness.

“Stop,” I moaned quietly.

The final memory seemed to continue on, but an overbearing ringing smothered whatever it was supposed to say.

“I SAID STOP!” I screamed before lashing out at the vision. My hoof connected and I heard flesh hit the floor. A mysterious feeling of elation spread over me. The hit had calmed the voices and began to soothe the withdrawal.

Pouncing upon the opportunity, I scrambled on top of the memory. “Why won’t you leave me alone! I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m the good pony! I’m the hero, dammit!”

My hooves came down in a series of hammering blows. Each connection brought forth grunts and cries from the memory that steadily grew quieter and more pitiful. The incredible surge of adrenaline fueled my glee in stamping out the horrifying images. The symptoms slipped away as the familiar comfort of unbridled fury poured from my hooves.

Soon my energy began to falter, and a satisfying exhaustion blanketed me. I fell to the side, breathing heavily as clarity returned from the mist of rage. The ringing in my ears soon abated, replaced by whimpering cries and choked gasps. Curious, I turned back toward the vision and cautiously illuminated my horn.

Lilac Breeze lay supine beside me, both eyes swollen shut, jaw hanging at a horrifying angle, and now missing far more than just her front teeth. Tears poured from swollen slits, and a sputtering cough sprayed crimson raindrops into the air.

I shrieked in terror upon spying what my outburst had wrought. Before I could even think, I was back on my hooves and looking over the mangled filly.

“Wh- wh- what have I-”

I really hate to say I told you so, but…

The orphanage was deathly silent.

I sat on the edge of an easy chair in the living room, alone save for the occasional head poking out of the kitchen to offer glares of shock or condemnation. I suppose it wasn’t that surprising, how often does one almost lose a friend to the same pony who’d just saved the lives of two others?

I’d go with a healthy mix of disgust and trepidation. They are the cornerstones of a good ol’ fashioned erosion of trust.

“You’re not helping,” I mumbled dully.

Oh I sure as shit am, the voice stated matter-of-factly. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not in the right headspace, dummy?

“But it w- it wasn’t my-”

W-w-wasn’t your fault? Is that what you’re trying to stutter? I’m sorry, was it somepony else that tried to turn that kid’s head into guacamole?

“I couldn’t help it,” I whimpered. “That wasn’t me. The voices, the memories, they just wouldn’t stop. I had to make them.”

That was the most ‘you’ you’ve been in the last few days, kid, Koe responded flatly.

The door to Tender Heart’s bedroom creaked open and the elderly mare shuffled out. She turned sullenly toward me, “Venture, please come here.”

Shakily I pried myself from the seat and approached, “H-how is she?”

“Not good,” she said flatly. “As far as I can tell, she’s in a coma. She received significant trauma to the head, and I don’t know if she’ll wake up.”

“No,” I whispered breathily. “There has to be something we can do. Something I can-”

“You killed her!” a filly cried before something slammed into me.

I fell back against the wall and dazedly looked up into Rowan’s fury-filled eyes. “Why?” she hissed through clenched teeth. “We were just playing a game. We were trying to be your friends! Why did you kill her?!” She brought up her hooves and began battering my exposed side with a flurry of blows. Frustrated tears spilled from her eyes and splattered against my coat.

“WHY?!” Rowan screamed between each strike. “WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!”

I whimpered helplessly against the floor, enduring the beating because… well, I couldn’t really say. Perhaps it would soothe my guilt. Maybe it would demonstrate the contempt I felt for my actions, and that I in no way intended to justify them.

Maybe it was because I was in the same position not so long ago.

The room began to melt away as I gazed up at the hysterical filly. Soon, a facsimile of myself replaced her, screaming the same question at a dying mare. The memory faded as her family’s names echoed as the final utterances she spoke.

Rowan was just as confused as I had been.

“That’s enough!” Tender Heart cried sternly as she plucked the filly up in her magic.

“B-but- but he-” she sputtered as she helplessly struggled against the aura suspending her. Finally accepting the futility in the exercise, she let her limbs hang limply and began to sob.

“Shhh,” the mare soothed as she held Rowan close. “It’s ok, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be just fine.” She beckoned toward the kitchen. Lemon cautiously emerged and trotted toward us. She placed a hoof around Rowan’s shoulders and led her back toward the others.

I stared at the departing pair, desperately wanting Lemon to meet my gaze, but she pointedly kept her eyes locked forward until they disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Venture,” Tender Heart repeated. “Will you please escort me to town?”

“Why?”

“Because we all must take responsibility for our actions, Venture,” she answered coldly. “There’s a stallion in Hoofsprings, Doctor Stitchell. If anypony can help Lilly now, it’s him.”

“Do you really think he can?” I asked hopefully.

Tender Heart hung her head, “I don’t know, but he’s the best chance we have. From what I hear, he’s quite the expert on head injuries.”

I turned toward the window, watching as the brilliant orange of day melted into the soothing purple of twilight. “When do we leave?”

The elderly mare’s eyes locked back onto me, the familiar warmth she exuded completely absent from her expression, “Now.”

Night fell quickly as we made our way toward Hoofsprings. We walked in silence, save for the subtle hum of our illuminated horns. The white and dark blue auras blended into a calming cerulean that encircled us.

After countless, tortuously tense minutes, Tender Heart spoke, “How are you holding up?”

I was taken aback at first, shocked at the calm tone, “As good as I can be, I guess.”

She sighed, “I know you didn’t do this on purpose, Venture. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been forced to see, but maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe if I understood the depths of your trauma, then I could have taken more precautions to keep the children safe. You’re damaged and, if your actions these past few days are any indication, uncontrollably violent. It may have benefited the others yesterday, but now I see that you can’t control yourself.” Tender Heart abruptly halted and turned toward me. “It’s not your fault. If I were to have things my way, I would do everything in my power to help you. But…” she trailed off.

“But what?” I asked.

“But it’s not just about you and me,” she continued as her composure started to break down. “I- I have to consider the welfare of the other children.”

It wasn’t until that moment that I noticed the well-trodden path we’d been following had steadily become less defined. Now it seemed we were standing on open desert.

“We’re not going to town, are we?” I questioned reservedly. A seed of fear took root in my gut as I glanced warily at the mare’s bulging saddlebags.

“We are not, but I will be,” Tender Heart responded simply. “Doctor Stitchell really is Lilly’s best hope, but that’s not where we’re going.”

Oh Goddess, please no.

“The others… the others aren’t going to be able to trust you again, Venture. They’ve all been through so much, I can’t risk destroying everything we’ve built for ourselves.” She began rifling through one of the saddlebags.

Now or never, hero.

“I… I know what you’re doing,” I whispered timidly.

The elderly mare snapped back toward me, “What did you say?”

“I know what you’re doing,” I responded a bit more confidently.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.

“You’re just using this as an excuse,” I continued. “But I know the real reason you want me gone, because I saw what you did last night. You met with the slavers.”

Tender Heart’s eyes grew wide, “I… but… you-”

“How could you?!” I spat venomously, my fear consumed by the outrage I’d been repressing. “They all trust you, love you. And you’re just farming them like livestock!”

“How dare you!” she snapped back angrily, her lips turning up in a snarl. “Do not even think for a moment that you understand what I’m doing here. I give these children something they would never have without me.”

“A life in chains?” I retorted.

“A childhood,” Tender Heart hissed. Just as quickly as it had come, the mare’s anger evaporated. She hung her head and the familiar, comforting voice returned. “I hope that you more than most will understand. These days, children don’t have the opportunity to be… children. Dead parents, growing up with gangs, even dying in infancy. All of this is so common now, and that’s what this orphanage was supposed to combat. A refuge to allow the young of the wasteland a chance to experience a family, to be loved.”

“How did you get from that to having your own kids sell them into slavery?” I shot back, desperate to keep my righteous indignation aflame in the wake of her soothing voice.

“It’s… complicated,” the mare admitted somberly. “It was never supposed to turn out like this.”

She sighed, “Years ago, my husband and I lived here with our three beautiful children. Lasso Twirl, Cactus Patch, and River Rock… I suppose you know them as Noose, Spikestrip, and Gash. Their father passed away when they were very young, and it became more and more difficult for us to survive. When they were old enough, my children begged me to let them go out on their own, to find a new life for us. When I declined, they ran off anyway. Weeks, months, almost a year passed without any word from them.

“I’d given them up for dead,” Tender Heart admitted, her voice cracking, “and s-somedays, I can’t help but feel that things would be better if they were.”

“Go on,” I urged her. If I could keep the mare talking, keep bringing up these painful memories, maybe it would give me an opportunity to… what? Run away? But I didn’t want to leave. Kill her? The others would never take me back if I returned alone, especially now. The implications of whatever I chose all seemed equally vile. Hadn’t we thought this through? I could have sworn we had. Koe had made it seem like this was the only-

Koe.

“After a few months,” Tender Heart continued, “I’d forgotten all hope, and was resigned to living out my days in solitude. That is until some of the townsponies brought a few orphaned foals to my door.” A small grin graced the mare’s cheeks, “It was like a sign from Celestia herself, and I knew then that my duty in this life was not yet fulfilled. I was to care for and nurture any children of the wasteland that came knocking.”

“A-and then?” I asked, still desperately trying to think of what I would do next, but nothing sprang to mind.

And then we snapped her fucking neck and merrily marched off toward the next adventure.

We can’t, I thought back hopelessly.

And why the shit not?

You- you tricked me, I responded incredulously. If I kill her, they’ll never take me back.

What? Koe asked confusedly. That’s kinda the point. We talked about this, they’re better off without her, and you can’t afford to get tied down anywhere, hero. I didn’t trick you, this was all your idea, remember?

So I can’t even have friends?

You’ve already got me. What more do you need?

“And then,” Tender Heart uttered miserably, “my children came home to me. I thought it was a miracle. They returned with caps and supplies, more than enough to care for the orphans I’d taken in. Not only that, but they were incredibly supportive of turning our home into a home for all.”

Over the course of her narration she constantly turned from nostalgic bliss, to remorse, “I never knew where the provisions came from, but I didn’t care. My family was together, and that was all that mattered. That is…”

“Until they started taking the children,” I finished flatly.

Tender Heart nodded, “They tried to keep it from me, wearing masks and calling each other those nicknames, but I knew my kids. After that first night, I confronted them. It was then that I learned that my own children had become slavers. They kept telling me about how business had been drying up. That if I wanted to keep the orphanage open, wouldn’t it be better to sell off the eldest in return for giving the youngest a safe place to call home?

“I didn’t know what to think anymore. What my own children were doing stood in such stark contrast to everything I’d tried to impart with them. But what was I supposed to do!” the elderly mare suddenly snapped, her expression turning manic. “We had nothing! No supplies, no services to offer?! How else were we meant to survive?! This way they at least get to live out their foalhoods in safety and love. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that something good?”

It struck me that the questions weren’t rhetorical. She genuinely wanted an answer, for me to provide some measure of justification for the atrocities she’d allowed to happen.

She doesn’t deserve it.

“Please,” Tender Heart whimpered, “tell me I’m still good. Tell me I’m not a bad pony.” It was hard to tell in the pale light, but it seemed like she started sobbing. “I care so deeply for all of them, but I still love my children… I… I can’t…”

To say I was conflicted would be like saying Hellhounds are a bit ornery, but there was one prevailing question left unanswered, “So you’re going to kill me?”

“What?” she gasped, horror in her tone. “N-no, I-”

“That’s what Noose told you to do.”

“I… yes, he did. But I had no plans to harm you, Venture,” a look of realization passed over her, “that’s why you didn’t eat or take your medicine. You thought I was trying to…”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” Tender Heart stated solemnly before pulling a final strap on her saddlebag and letting it tumble to the ground. She kicked open the flap to reveal a few dozen glass vials, various bits of food, and the matte black grip of a handgun. “I was going to ask you to leave. There’s enough food, water, and medicine here to wean you off the Rage and survive for a few weeks.” The mare took a shaky breath, “And before you ask, yes, that offer is still available. Take this, leave, and don’t come back. Please, just forget about us.”

“No,” I responded instantly. For a moment I wondered if Koe had stolen my tongue again, but the answer had been mine. “This is wrong and you know it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Venture,” she intoned dryly, “because your knowing of all this makes things a bit more complicated.” A white aura surrounded the saddlebag as the pistol floated out. “Don’t make me do this,” the hammer cocked back as she settled the sights on me. “This place and my children are all I have left. I care about you, and all the others, but I have to put my own family first.”

“Th-then I guess you’re gonna have to shoot me,” I stated flatly. “Because I will not rest until they’re safe from you.” I puffed out my chest and raised my chin, trying to appear far more brave and confident than the terrified screeching reverberating through my skull. “Do it.”

“I- I-” the mare stuttered before clenching her eyes. The aura brightened around the trigger.

Seeing my opportunity, I leapt forward, smacked at the pistol and tackled the mare to the ground. A clattering announced the gun’s landing before-

BLAM!

A burst of blinding light erased my vision, and a piercing ring dominated my hearing. Several moments of rubbing desperately at my eyes slowly brought the world back into focus. I spied Tender Heart a short distance away, mirroring myself as she fought to regain her sight.

The gun lay right next to my head, its barrel pointing toward a pile of boulders nearby. I plucked it from the ground and took aim at Tender Heart. As she regained her faculties, she locked her gaze onto me.

“Venture, p-please don’t,” Tender Heart hissed panickedly. “The children need me. You can’t do this.” Her expression hardened a bit, “Besides, they’ll never take you back without me. If they find out you did this-”

“I don’t want this,” I interrupted. “but I can’t let you continue on like nothing has changed. They all deserve the truth.” I tightened my grip on the pistol, “So what’s it gonna be?”

Stinging chills suddenly began coursing through my spine. The relative calm of the moment gave my withdrawal free reign to dominate my perceptions. I tried desperately to keep my composure, but the pistol started to shake, and my vision contorted once more.

A war of emotions erupted behind Tender Heart’s eyes. They flicked side to side and her pupils shrank, “I… I ca-”

The heavy silence shattered in the wake of a feral screech. At least a dozen more joined the first, and the sand beneath our hooves began to quiver. In unison, we turned toward the boulder the pistol had fired into.

The smaller rocks began to shake and topple down, a flurry of rapid movement appearing briefly behind them. One of the larger stones toppled over, revealing a mass of writhing, yellow flesh. The biggest of the creatures was as tall as Tender Heart on its rear legs. Sets of scything claws dotted the ends of each limb, and their gnashing, reptilian jaws revealed rows of razor sharp fangs.

Another demonic shriek tore through the air before the geckos locked onto us and pounced.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

A trio of bullets ripped into the reptiles, spurting gouts of dark ichor onto the sand. Two fell, twitching morbidly. The survivors, at least a dozen more, paused a moment, glaring at me and the smoking pistol.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” Tender Heart whispered, terror in her voice. “They can’t see well at night.”

“So what do you suggest?” I hissed back.

Her eyes darted around until coming to rest on the rocky outcropping the geckos had emerged from, “There. If we can get on top of that, I think there’s enough loose rocks and sand to keep them from getting a decent grip.”

“They can’t climb?” I asked warily.

“Not well, strangely,” she elaborated. “They’ll disperse after eating, so they’ll probably start on the two you killed and give up on us.”

“Probably?”

Tender Heart nodded shakily.

Any other ideas? I thought toward Koe, but the voice remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Ok, so what do we do?”

“Keep your sights on them,” the mare said hurriedly. “I think I can levitate the both of us up there.”

Tender Heart went first. The aura encompassed the entirety of her body as she cautiously rose up into the air and began the short trip toward the rocks. Several of the ravenous reptiles jumped upward, gnashing their fangs desperately. Another bullet blew the head off the eagerest of the bunch.

After what seemed like hours, but was more than likely seconds, Tender Heart touched down on top of the largest boulder. She turned back toward me and her horn burst into light again.

A subtle warmth cut through the chill, desert night. My vision tinted slightly white and I felt myself begin to rise off the ground. Like cotton blowing in a gentle breeze, I slowly floated over the mass of geckos. I kept the group in sight, aiming beneath my hooves as I floated over. Then, just scant inches from safety, I stopped.

It didn’t hit me at first. Unfortunately it took one of them jumping up at the opportunity and clawing at my legs. A scorching heat erupted as the creature’s claws ripped a jagged line in my flesh. I cried out in pain. More of the geckos joined in the fray as I slowly descended toward them.

I shot a look at Tender Heart, finding a look of confliction staring back, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, Venture,” she mumbled weakly. “But I can’t let you come back. Just close your eyes, it’ll be over soon.”

Something within me snapped at the familiar statement, and a seething rage surged through me. My mind once more traveled back to the Pit, and the first mare I’d killed. At the time, the utter shock I felt at her actions only plagued my mind. How could anypony do something so callous and horrifying?

But I’d answered that question a long time ago. Now it was high time to accept it.

Fucking finally.

Tender Heart’s magic suddenly dispersed, dropping me into the feeding frenzy beneath. The geckos immediately beset upon me, ripping and biting at their prey. The first to bring its head toward me received a mouthful of lead for its troubles. I swung the pistol around and shot out the eye of another making a move toward my throat. Several of the smaller reptiles sped away into the darkness, but plenty more still remained.

With the bit of breathing room I’d bought, I pulled myself to my hooves and tried to ignore the litany of fresh wounds.

I got this one, kid.

A dimly recognizable burning smothered my injuries as Koe’s mind trick took hold. I took my next breath in a pained hiss as the scorching reached its apex, then abated as the cuts and bites began to numb.

Now able to concentrate, I felt an odd sense of calm blanketing my mind. As strange as it sounds, I felt more at home in the familiarity of mortal conflict than I ever had at the orphanage. I suppose, deep down, I knew that we didn’t belong there.

But here things made sense.

The symptoms of my withdrawal shrunk before the ravenous fury overtaking my senses. It licked at the corners of my mind, danced across veins, enticed my resolve, and electrified my heart. Rage coursed through me once again.

Six bullets, and a fuck ton more lizards. Let’s party.

Three of them suddenly dropped to all fours and charged forward, weaving back and forth in a serpentine. Dry, throaty hisses erupted from the trio before they lept. A bullet caught one in the chest, sending it spiralling back into the darkness.

Five.

Another landed beside me, latched its jaw around my leg and pulled violently. I was swept off my hooves and crashed to the dirt as annoying pinpricks cut through the numbed limb. The gecko flailed its head about, whipping me back and forth. An uncomfortable pressure began to form where the leg met my hip.

With a shout I tried to line up my sights with the yellow blur, but I couldn’t get a clear shot. I desperately smashed my free hooves against the creature, using its own momentum to pummel its flesh. A lucky strike smacked into its jaw with a resounding crunch. I toppled back to the ground, spying the thrashing gecko gripping at its mouth. A shot through the back of the skull put it down permanently.

Four.

I scanned my gaze across the darkness, looking for any of sign of the third. It reappeared in the form of a spiderweb of irritation across my backside as its fangs clamped down.

I yelped in surprise and jumped forward, dragging the smaller gecko along. It hissed in frustration as it dug deeper into my buttocks. My rear legs lashed out in a vicious buck, but it was too close to land a proper blow. With a grunt, I ran backwards as fast as possible and slammed into the closest boulder. The creature was persistent as it renewed its hold. Pinned as it was, however, I could finally angle the pistol back and place it against the gecko’s forehead.

“Get off my ass!” I cried before painting the rocks with a bloody mosaic.

Three

Even though the gecko’s head split apart, I was dismayed to find its teeth somehow still spearing my flank. “Oh you piece of shit!”

In a fit of rage, I fired twice more into creature’s twitching body.

Two, one, Koe paused a moment. Worth it?

“Worth it,” I affirmed breathlessly.

The survivors chittered and hissed out beyond the cone of my light, but none tried to mount another assault. Seizing the opportunity, I ran toward the rocky outcropping. I dug my hooves into the loose dirt and started to climb.

My injured limbs felt stiff, but functional enough to claw my way over the boulders. A splatter of saliva against my legs and a vicious cry signalled the geckos’ failed surprise attack, but they were not discouraged. I desperately clambered against the rocks with all my might to escape the ravenous creatures. A final heave lifted me up and onto the tallest crag.

My chest billowed with pained gasps as I sucked sweet mouthfuls of air. The geckos clawed and hissed from below, but they may as well have been miles away considering how much I cared. There was one bullet left in the pistol, and it was destined for one pony.

When I could compose myself enough to stand, I turned my sights toward the cowering mare at the other end of the boulder. Tender Heart shook, her eyes like dinner plates with a miniscule morsel dotting its center.

“H-how did-?” she stuttered breathily. “Wh-what are you?”

“Pissed,” I muttered dully before levelling the pistol at her head.

“No!” Tender Heart gasped. She began scooting closer to the boulder’s edge, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.

Uh, she does know how a gun works, right?

I stalked forward, letting every ounce of rage and disgust broadcast itself clearly on my face. The adrenaline from the fight coursed so satisfyingly through my veins. Tender Heart continued to stutter and babble, fear motivating her every move. Her hind hooves reached the edge of the boulder and almost slipped off. A cascade of gravel rained down upon the remaining geckos gathered beneath.

The pitifulness of the image was almost… funny. So much so that the edges of my mouth turned up in a wicked grin.

It was all out in the open. All the lives she’d ruined whilst acting as the demure savior of children. All the innocent souls who’d so unwittingly placed their trust in her. The despair pouring from her broken speech merely fueled my vindication. In that moment I could tell this was my true purpose. Instilling the fear of the Goddess into anypony that preyed on the weak, killed the righteous, and stamped out hope. It was intoxicating, awe-inspiring.

I liked that she was afraid of me.

“V-Venture, please listen to me,” she begged. “Nothing has happened yet. We can just go home, the two of us. We’ll forget all of this ever happened. I’ll smooth things over with the others, they’ll understand. Even if Lilly doesn’t pull through, we can make it work.”

Tender Heart fell to the ground, clutching at my hooves. A spreading wetness settled on my fetlock as she sobbed and blubbered. “Please, I don’t want to die, not like this. Not with all the things I’ve-”

She suddenly stiffened and screeched in pain. I glanced behind her, finding one of the geckos had managed to claw its way up high enough to latch onto her leg. It began pulling the mare down, eager to finally have its hard-fought meal.

Tender Heart gripped my leg tightly, holding on for dear life. “Venture, don’t let them take me! I’m sorry! Please, help me!”

I felt… strange. Yesterday those words would’ve spurred me to action, risking life and limb to rescue a pony in need. Hell, I’d even let most of her piece of shit, slaving children go free. Odd how years in a literal hell hole could not shatter my beliefs. Yet one night, one shining example of the vile, deceiving wretches that inhabited the wasteland could completely subvert it.

And like sticking a bit in a light socket, we’ve learned our lesson. Right?

I answered the question by putting the last bullet in Tender Heart’s leg.

The mare screamed. Her limbs recoiled and instantly disappeared from the boulder’s edge. The tormented cries didn’t end there, instead growing into the agonizing shriek of an animal facing its grisly end. Geckos swarmed around the flailing mare, ripping and tearing at her hide, each desperate for its own pound of flesh. Spurts of red arced through the air like an artisanal fountain, and her wails grew more muffled and gurgling. Seconds stretched into an eternity as Tender Heart was eaten alive.

I watched until the feast had ended. Content with their meal, the reptiles began to disperse, revealing the remains of Grandma. They’d nigh picked the flesh from her bones, only leaving a gore spattered skeleton. Her face was oddly untouched, save for a large chunk bitten out of her left eye. The remnants of her expression portrayed an unrivaled plateau of fear.

Even in light of the barbaric scene, my grin didn’t falter. This was my first victory, my first villain vanquished. It was a time for celebration, for-

“You.”

Shocked from my reverie, I spun about to confront the new presence.

Atop the ridge a ways up the road stood a small silhouette. As if ordained by Luna herself, a break in the cloud layer above brought down a beam of brilliant moonlight. The illumination revealed the scene in all of its slaughterous splendor, alongside a seething Rowan.

“YOU FUCKING MONSTER!”

Never before had I run so fast.

The frigid air clung to my bellowing lungs like a morning frost, but still I went on. Rowan’s hoofsteps had long faded into the distance, but it was doubtless where she was going.

And remind me, again, why we are stampeding back toward those who may take issue with our little soiree du senicide?

“I… have to… tell them… what happened,” I gasped.

Really? Koe asked. And what, perchance, do we hope to accomplish with that?

“They deserve… the truth,” I answered, “whether they… believe it or not.”

Is… is this really how things are gonna be? he continued, a slight bit of dread in his tone. We fight, then you actually do the thing we both know you’re eventually gonna do, then feel compelled to perform some pedantic show of remorse? ‘Cause I’m gonna be honest with you, kid, it’s getting a little old.

“I… didn’t want… it to turn out… like that,” I choked out, finally slowing my gallop and taking a moment to catch my breath. The numbing was still keeping my injuries at bay, but it wouldn’t last forever. “I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have-”

Are we back to this now? Celestia almighty, I actually thought we were making some progress.

“She didn’t have to die!” I snapped.

Then why did we kill her? Can’t blame the chems this time.

“I DON’T KNOW!” I screamed into the night, venting the utter contempt I felt toward myself. “When the fighting started, I couldn’t hold myself back. It felt like I was on Rage again, but I was still… me.”

I came to a stop at the realization. “It always felt like I was somepony else when I took it, that everything I did under the influence wasn’t really me. But now, after doing that, I just don’t know anymore.”

I looked up to the sky, spying the final remnants of the hole in the cloud layer before it sealed shut, plunging the world below back into its isolated darkness. “What am I,” I murmured miserably. “Am I… am I still a good pony?”

Koe said nothing.

The orphanage was hauntingly quiet as I approached. Dim, flickering lights danced within the windows, but that was all.

Warily, I crept toward the front door as a boulder seemed to appear in my gut. A mounting dread the likes of which I hadn’t felt since my first days in the Pit weighed down my hoof, preventing me from knocking. My breath grew shaky as the countless possibilities ran through my mind, with one extremely likely scenario holding center stage.

Just as I began to decide between entering or sprinting off into the night, the door suddenly creaked open. A stone-faced Lemon Tart stood on the other side, flanked by a furious Rowan, and a bewildered gathering of the other orphans. Some had obviously tipped over the verge of tears, while more still offered looks of pleading hope. Begging for whatever Rowan had told them to be untrue.

I froze, too overwhelmed by the crowd to even speak. Without a word, Lemon strolled toward me, with Rowan, Crankshaft, and Ruby Rose in tow. Spikestrip’s abandoned hunting rifle hung suspended in Ruby’s magic, whilst Crankshaft clutched a lead pipe in his teeth.

The filly stopped scant inches from my face, close enough to see her puffy, fury-filled eyes glaring right into my soul. “Is it true?” she asked quietly.

“I- I-”

“Is. It. True?” she repeated, punctuating each word. Lemon glanced behind me, “Where’s Grandma?”

“Sh-sh-she’s… she’s… ,” I dropped my gaze to the dirt, no longer able to endure the eye contact, “...dead.”

Lemon closed her eyes and nodded solemnly, “And you did it?”

“Yes,” I answered meekly.

Another nod before the filly reached behind herself and grasped a familiar burlap sack. A flick of her head sent it sailing toward me and crashing down at my hooves, spilling my books and the music box. It clicked open as the necklace tumbled out. The pendant landed at a just the right angle to shine in the pale light. It almost seemed like both royal sisters were casting a judgemental glare.

Lemon raised a hoof and pointed out into the desert, “Leave.”

“Wait!” I said desperately, raising my head and trying to meet her gaze. “Let me explain. Those slavers from before, they were her children. She’s been raising all of you just to sell you off. Please, you have to believe-”

“I SAID LEAVE!” she screamed, her demeanor crumbling before the heartbreak pouring out. “She brought you into our lives. Gave you food, a place to call home, and a family to care for you. And this... this is how you repay her?”

“But you were right!” I countered, my eyes burning as I fought to reign in the tears. “You knew something was wrong, that the older kids disappearing wasn’t just some coincidence. This is the answer. I know it’s hard to hear, but I saw it with my own eyes. She betrayed you all.”

“Stop!” Lemon hissed. “First you almost kill Lilly, then you actually killed Grandma. Now you want me to believe your lies?” She turned away from me and began walking back inside. I tried to lunge after her, but was stopped short by Ruby’s rifle taking aim.

“Just leave, Venture. Leave and never come back,” Lemon growled.

“But- but I-”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Rowan interjected viciously, whipping around and blocking Lemon’s path. “You’re just letting him go? After everything he’s done?!”

“Yes,” the yellow filly muttered, “because we’re better than him.” She finally turned and met my gaze again, “We’re not monsters.”

Silence plagued the gathering. The tears started flowing freely as the first real home I’d ever known crumbled to ash. “Lemon,” I squeaked pitifully. “Please. I don’t- I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

She had a hoof on the front door, ready to go back inside and shut out this grisly chapter of their lives. “You made the choice to be alone when you took her from us.” Lemon opened the door, revealing the others and began to step inside.

“FUCK THIS!” Rowan screamed. “In my book you kill monsters!” She launched herself onto Ruby’s back and wrapped a hoof around the suspended rifle. Before the older mare could react, Rowan fumbled her way to the trigger, positioned the barrel and squeezed.

BOOM!

I felt my head jerk back and was flung to the ground. Instantly I could tell something was wrong. The entire right side of my face tingled, and it was oddly difficult to open the corresponding eye. A shaking hoof travelled up to the socket and came away splattered in red.

In either the cruelest twist of fate, or Koe’s own vindictiveness, the numbing chose that moment to recede. In the blink of an eye, I realized my own was gone.

A few noiseless screams left my gaping lips before morphing into a shrieking howl. I thrashed on the ground as a red hot poker bore its way into the empty socket. Every other worry and pain instantly vanished in the wake of an agony only rivalled by my time with Chance. But I had expected no less from him. This new pain had an entirely new facet. The filly who’d inflicted it had used an uncomfortably familiar justification.

Killing a monster.

As I jerked and twisted on the ground, trying to pull some semblance of rational thought together, I could faintly hear the others conversing.

“What did you do!” Lemon cried.

“What you didn’t have the guts to!” Rowan snapped.

“This isn’t going to bring Redwood back, Rowan. He didn’t-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say his name!” the smaller filly shrieked. “If you could have done this, he might still be here!”

“What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?” Ruby repeated, panic electrifying her tone.

“Nothing! Let him suffer!”

“We can’t do that. I told you we’re better than… “

The voices jumbled together into a indistinguishable white noise.

They’re trying to kill you, a voice said, cutting through the din. Koe, it had to be.

I can’t let them hurt me.

Wait, who was that?

You’re the hero. Not the monster.

They’re attacking me. I have to stop them. I have to survive. I’m the hero.

No wait, that wasn’t me. Was it? Who-

We can stop them.

Rip. Tear. Stab. Crush. Kill.

No, I can’t. They’re innoc-

No such thing.

“Stop,” I felt myself say. “Please, stop.” The pain barraged my senses, instinct to strike out at the cause driving my every thought and action. An insurmountable spire of suffering dominated my consciousness.

No, I can’t let it control me. I have to think. I have to remember. I’m the good pony. I have to-

Fight.

“No,” I moaned. “I don’t want to.”

Have to. Have to fight. Have to survive.

Have to kill.

“No, I… I’m not…”

A hoof gently touched my side, making itself known as a small irritation in contrast to the avalanche of agony.

They’re trying to finish you off.

They won’t. Fight. Kill. Live.

“I can’t.” I uttered miserably.

Why?

Why?

“I’M NOT A MONSTER!” I screamed, pushing the voices away. Whether they were Koe’s or mine, it didn’t matter. I would never stoop to what they wanted. I was in control, not them. I refused to hurt anypony else.

Then what are you doing?

It was only then that I became acutely aware of the spell I was casting. Through the agony of it all, I blearily opened my left eye.

Lemon hung suspended in the air, a dark blue aura wrapped around her throat. She pawed pitifully at the magic as her windpipe visibly compressed. Before the scene had totally registered, an audible crack pierced the air, and her legs fell limp. With a thump, the filly’s body crashed to the dirt, her eyes wide in confusion and pain.

It was as if the world itself had stopped turning. The night fell still, creatures hushed their muffled chatter, and everypony seemed to hold their breath. It all seemed so wrong, so out of place. Lemon couldn’t be dead, Grandma couldn’t be dead. When would we wake from this sick, twisted nightmare?

But it wasn’t a nightmare. The clock began ticking again, and it was met with a chorus of anguished foals.

The crowd of orphans immediately rushed to Lemon’s side. They pulled and yanked at her hide, desperate to wake her, but she did not stir. The screams and wails echoing from them rivalled any I’d been forced to hear in the Pit. The fear of death may be the farthest thing from undeveloped minds, but loss is something we are all immediately familiar with. In one fell swoop, these children had lost the entire foundation that had built this paradise in the darkness.

One by one, their attentions turned from Lemon’s corpse back toward me. Gone were the expressions of shock, replaced now by the purest of life’s emotions. One that nigh defined the era we found ourselves inhabiting. While there may be the odd pocket of contentment, what now shone brightly on all of their faces was what truly underlay our world.

Untethered hate.

Rowan emerged from the crowd, stalking up to me without any trace of fear to her gait. Her breaths were taken in shaky hisses between clenched teeth. A trail of tears poured from her dilated eyes, but behind that lay a scorching malice. She raised a hoof toward me. “KILL HIM!” she shrieked.

At once, the group rallied behind the cry and stampeded toward me. Their shouts of pain and hate filling the air like locusts.

Run.

I needed no further goading as I hurriedly threw my belongings in the bag, turned, and sprinted back toward the desert. The reserves of my adrenaline burned brightly as the most immediate pains fell away. A succession of heavy thumps marked a cascade of heavy stones narrowly missing me. Another crack of the rifle split the air as the bullet whizzed by overhead. Several more shots followed before the clip ran dry.

My lungs and legs burned from the exertion, but every part of my mind was screaming at me to keep going. I risked a glance behind me, noticing none of the orphans had given up on the chase. Not only that, Rowan continued to showcase her unrivalled agility as she kept pace. They were going to catch me.

I’m not sure what drove me toward the mushroom cave, but something at the back of my mind opined for the familiarity of caverns and darkness. It wasn’t like there was a whole lot of options either.

The remnants of my endurance stretched to their breaking point as I stampeded toward the cave. I could practically feel Rowan’s breath on my skin as she drew near until a substantial weight appeared on my rear legs. Sparing a look back, I found the filly wrapping her hooves around them, shackling me to the ground.

“You’re not getting away!” she hissed venomously.

“Please get off! Let me go!” I shouted back, desperately twisting and turning to escape her grip.

“Never!”

I glanced behind her, seeing the mob swiftly closing the gap. “I don’t want to fight you!”

Rowan sputtered out a manic laugh, “Well the feeling sure as shit ain’t mutual! You’re gonna suffer! YOU’RE GONNA DIE HERE YOU FUCKING MONSTER!”

That word further plunged the dagger into my heart. Every utterance of it made my skin crawl. But I had to get away. How was I going to get away?

Survive.

Kill.

“STOP IT!” I screamed, desperate to escape… everything. The world was crumbling down around me and I just wanted out. I needed out.

The answer came in a moment of vindictiveness surfacing in my panic, “Did you try this hard when they shot your brother? Or were you too much of a coward?”

Rowan’s look of bloodlust crumbled at my words, her eyes growing wide and guilty tears forming at their edges, “H-how did you- who told you-”

Her legs relaxed for just a moment, but that lapse was all I needed. The filly cried out before fully releasing my leg. I noticed then that another spell was being cast. This one wrapped itself around Rowan’s forelegs and pulled them back behind her shoulders. A wet crack filled the air as her limbs snapped.

Rowan shrieked and writhed on the ground. Part of me wanted desperately to go back to her, to apologize for everything. Every other part, however, knew that would be suicide. With the murderous mob not seconds away, I mumbled an apology and sprinted off toward the cave.

I took a corner too sharply and slipped, slamming into the edge of the cavern's mouth and breaking the old wooden barricade. The ‘No Trespassing’ sign fell atop me, giving a final reminder to steer clear of exactly what I was planning to do. I scrambled into the cave, further than when I gathered mushrooms with Lemon. Further than when I attacked Lilly. Further until the final remnants of light faded into the background and I was surrounded by darkness once more.

Only then did I pause to catch my breath, blanketed by the soothing isolation I’d grown to know well. For so long I’d rejected it, wanting nothing more than to emerge out into the light again, but now it seemed that wasn’t where I truly belonged. The darkness had no expectations of me. It hid the realities of the world away and only contained what I desired it to. It was paradise in the wake of what I’d just been put through.

A distant rumbling echoed in the distance as the orphans drew near.

Silence plagued us for an insufferable amount of time. Seconds stretched on until a shaky voice spoke up. “Y-you listen here, you s-s-on of a bitch,” Rowan stuttered, pain infusing her tone. “You b-best find a way to die in there, ‘c-cause the second any of u-us see y-you, you’re dead. DO YOUR HEAR ME?! DEAD!”

Koe started laughing.

It was by far the most ridiculous reaction I could have imagined after the night we’d been through. The contrast of his jovial giggling was enough to send a chill down my spine. What was there to laugh at?

What was so fucking funny?

Oh that would be you, my boy, he sneered through the laughter.

“M-me?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

Another burst of manic chuckles echoed around my skull, After- *hehehe* after all of this, you still don’t understand? His perverse giggles never stopped, Oh you have been a treat.

“I- I can’t believe you,” I snapped, disgusted at his behavior. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You were gonna help me save ponies. We were supposed to be heroes. What happened tonight that- that-”

Was a complete and total shit show. I know, I had a front row seat.

“So what are you laughing about?”

Hahahahaha!

“STOP IT!” I screamed. The echoes hammered back against my senses, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the laughter. “STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!”

Aw, what’s wrong, buddy? Did you- *hehehe* did you have a bad night? I thought it went pretty well.

“How could you think that?” I sputtered, desperately pulling the scraps of my composure together.

Oh Venture, Venture, Venture, he intoned dryly. You played your part so perfectly.

“What?” I gasped, horror settling across my mind.

Koe didn’t respond, instead the same chill I’d felt in my spine moved upward and trailed across my skull. I clutched at the feeling. It wasn’t painful, but I could tell it was… alien. Wrong. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

Slowly I peeled open my eyes and found a shimmering light before me, the same that had displayed the ghostly memories earlier today. I swiftly backed away from the image as it drew itself into clarity.

A facsimile of a young colt faded into existence. It’s features were familiar, too familiar. Before I could make another sound, I was in the presence of my own doppelganger.

“Hello Venture,” the shade me whispered in Koe’s voice.

“Wh- what are you?” I stammered, the seams of my mind coming undone.

“I’m you,” I- Koe said knowingly.The mirage started circling me slowly and, with every rotation, drawing nearer. “You should see the look on your face. Priceless.”

“What is this, what’s going on?” I asked desperately.

“Oh nothing, just the final act of our dynamic duo,” he started giggling again.

“What do you mean?”

“What, what, what, is that all you have to say?” Koe questioned tauntingly. “Well, I should have known I was going to have to spell it all out for you. So you may wanna take a SEAT!” The last word slammed into me like a charging bull. My backside instantly fell to the ground and cemented in place. I struggled against the pressure, frantically trying to escape, but every muscle tensed and remained still.

The doppelganger began tapping a hoof against his chin, “Where to begin? Well, I’m not that big a fan of long, drawn-out narrations so how’s about we go ahead and just skip to the point.” He stopped pacing in front of me and lifted my chin with a hoof. The contact between us ignited my flesh in a way no other touch ever had. It was like every time Chance had taken me all coalescing into a single brush of skin. I wanted to scream, but no sound emerged.

“You, your flesh, your will, they’re all mine now.”

“I-I-” I managed to croak as terror overwhelmed my mind.

“Through you, I will be born into this world,” the shade’s eyes grew wide and the most horrifying of sneers spread across his lips. “And you will be nothing but my puppet.”

After a monumental effort I squeaked, “H-h-how?”

“Well I’ll be cuddled to death by puppies, he finally asks a question worth asking,” Koe commented congratulatory as he patted me on the head. “Remember all those times I kept saying I can only make you do things you already wanted to do?”

I nodded weakly.

“So this is the fun part, every time you made the choice to go a little farther, to betray just one more facet of your morality, it fed me.” He began circling me once more, “Fed me and, little by little, gave me more control. And the cherry on top of this murder sundae? The blood of a true innocent.”

“Lemon?” I wheezed.

“Ding, ding, ding, ding, we got ourselves a winner folks,” he announced joyfully. “You see, as long as you were only picking off ponies that you perceived as evil, I couldn’t really do much but help you. So it was just a matter of expanding your definition of what ‘evil’ was.”

“You… conditioned me?” I murmured, finding the words coming easier now.

“By Luna’s loose sloppy cunt, this kid’s on a roll,” Koe answered.

“But I didn’t want to hurt Lemon,” I shot back.

“Certainly not at first,” he responded condescendingly. “But there was a moment, just like the old bitch, just like the griffin back in that hole, where you truly believed they all deserved to die. Whether it was for survival,” the griffin I’d fought briefly flashed in front of my vision, puking blood across the cavern floor, “revenge,” Tender Heart appeared, falling away from an ethereal ledge and screaming as she was devoured below, “or betrayal,” Lemon and the others appeared, looks of scorn across all of their faces as they turned their backs on me. “Every one of them, even for just a passing thought, you wanted dead.”

“I- no I- I didn’t.”

“Oh you did, not that it really matters now.” I suddenly felt compelled to stand. “Because now I’m running the show. You and me are gonna have a whole lot more fun out there. This is just the beginning.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked pitifully. My world was coming apart. Everything I’d planned was crumbling to pieces. I just wanted to be a hero, to help other ponies. What did I do wrong?

Why was this happening to me?

“I dunno,” Koe answered as he shrugged. “I guess I just think that the wasteland would look so much better with a nice coat of red splattered around. And I think the rest of those kids are a good start. So let’s hop to it, mister. Time’s a wastin’.”

I took the first step forward, then a second, but halted my advance. “No,” I muttered.

“What was THAT!” Koe asked, the last word slamming against my consciousness.

“I… said… no,” I repeated, planting my legs in place.

“Your defiance means nothing,” the shade responded, sounding displeased for the first time in our discourse. “I’m calling the shots, you don’t get a say anymore.”

“You won’t… control me,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I will… stop you.”

“Oh my good golly gee willickers,” he spat patronizingly. “You’re actually still trying to play the hero bit, aren’t you? Well I’ve got a question for ya.” Koe leaned right into my face until our muzzles were touching, “What kinda hero kills little old ladies and young fillies?”

“I know… what you’re doing,” I snapped back. “You’re not going to… break me.” I tried to turn away, back toward the rear of the cave, but it was as if enormous weights had suddenly been shackled to my legs.

“Is that a fact?”

I nodded, glaring daggers at the apparition.

“Ok then,” Koe mused. “How’s the eye?”

It spoke to how incredibly awestruck I was by Koe’s betrayal that losing my eye had fallen to the wayside of my focus. Strange as it was, however, it didn’t compare to realizing it was giving off no pain.

“Feeling better? Good,” he responded, taking my silence as affirmation. “I’d just hate it if you were experiencing any undue PAIN!”

Once more, his final word crashed over me. However, the feeling paled in comparison to the ignition of my right eye.

I clutched at the gaping socket and howled. Beyond everything I’d been forced to endure, nothing compared. Beatings, stabbings, rape. It seemed now that it had all been leading up to this.

“See?” Koe asked calmly, somehow cutting through my screams. “I’m the only one that gives the smallest nugget of shit about you now. I can take your pain away, and I can give it right fucking back.”

“You… son of a… bitch,” I gasped agonizingly.

He chuckled darkly, “Aw, are you mad?” The apparition flashed out of existence before reappearing before me. He locked our gazes together, and that macabre grin returned, “You’re nothing without me. Just a weak, snivelling little brat.”

“I’m not… weak,” I wheezed.

“Prove it.”

I lashed out viciously, trying to slam my hoof into his smug muzzle. Of course, the blow just passed through empty air.

“Oh yeah, go ahead and try to punch the voice in your head. That’s not crazy at all.”

“Shut up!” I screamed, continuing in the vain attempt.

Koe sighed, “You about done?”

My breath turned to shaky heaves, both through exertion and the unbearable ache.

“Good,” he continued haughtily. A blur of motion surrounded the image of my doppelganger as numerous copies began fading in from the darkness. Soon I was surrounded by a dozen sneering visions of myself.

“There’s no reason to fight it,” the original stated.

“You know what you really are,” another to my right continued.

“A killer,” said a third.

“A demon,” chimed a fourth.

“A monster,” proclaimed the first.

“Monster! Monster! Monster!” the gathering began to chant, their voices coalescing into a monophonic choir. The fake-me’s closed in, continuing the recitation, broken only by intermittent cackles.

“No, I’m not… please… st-stay away,” I begged, backing up as far as possible, but halted by the cavern wall. Just as the wave of phantoms looked fit to overwhelm me, I shut my eye and prayed to anypony that would listen.

Help me.

“Well, well, well,” a different voice cut through the quiet. “Lookie what we got here, Spikestrip.”

“Haha, very funny you prick,” a mare’s voice answered.

“Oh, sorry. Forgot,” the first voice, a stallion, answered. “It’s the kid. Ah told ya tha’s who they was chasin’.”

The squad of my doppelgangers faded away as the slavers trotted into view. They were clad in the same armor, save for the mare who’d removed her helmet and had a grimy cloth wrapped around her eyes. Spikestrip had a hoof on Noose, letting him lead her into the space.

“Well if’n this ain’t a sign that Celestia herself didn’t want us findin’ you, then Ah sure as shit don’t know what is,” Noose continued, drawing a knife as he spoke.

“Lemme at ‘im first,” the mare sneered. “Ah got a pretty big fuckin’ bone t’ pick.”

“Or an eye, am Ah righ-” Noose cut himself off as he looked a little more closely. He burst into a fit of manic giggles, “Holy griffin tits. Get a load o’ this, sis.”

“Uh, still blind, dumbass,” she snapped.

“Oh fuck. Well, ya might be happy t’ hear that we only got half a job. Somepony else already got started.”

“Sweet, sweet justice,” Spikestrip mused approvingly. “Although we ain’t the kinda folk who leave a job half done.”

“Nosiree,” he stared back at me. “So here’s how it’s gonna go. We jus’ wanna balance the scales a touch. So, as soon as my sis gets what she wants, you’re free t’ go.” Noose laughed, “Thing is, Ah think Ah’m jus’ gonna let her find her way to your eye on her own. Might take a couple tries but…” he leaned in close, “ain’t like we’re tryin’ t’ be caref-” he cut off again.

This time it seemed more to do with the blue magic gripping his throat. I seethed on the floor, rage hissing out of me like an old boiler. “I don’t… have the patience… to deal… with you.”

“Noose?” the blinded mare called out, confused by the turn in our discourse. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

I snapped my attention onto her. The spell tendriled toward the unaware slaver, curling around her neck as well. With a flick of concentration, both ponies shot into the air, gripping helplessly at the crushing aura.

“Is this what you want?!” I shouted, addressing the room. “Do you want to see a monster?! I’ll show you a Goddess-damned monster!” My head tilted slightly and my eye grew wide and deranged. A murderous smile spread across my face, and pure, undistilled fury seeped into the spell.

The heads of both slavers followed suit with mine, except their tilting didn’t stop. Panicked chokes echoed from the pair as their necks slowly pushed past the breaking point. Their faces turned toward each other, joining the siblings’ gazes in a single, horrifying moment of kinship.

CR-RACK!

Both slavers fell limp, tumbling to the floor as the suspending magic dispersed. Quiet returned in a thick curtain draped across the scene. I stared down at the corpses, until the blood dripping from my face began splashing against their cooling flesh.

I laughed.

There’s no sane answer as to why. Tears had been shed, blood spilled, lives stolen. The pony I wanted to believe I was had been slowly fading away in this malevolent nightmare. Condemned to the same corner of my mind that confined the dream guiding me down this path.

That trail ended here, where a pile of innocents lie dead, and more still condemned to the unknown. And now, standing as the final, monumental ‘fuck you’ that was today, the corpses of the only ponies that had deserved their fate.

It was just so… perfectly iniquitous.

What else was there to do but laugh?

The army of Koes reappeared at my side, wearing looks of pompous satisfaction. They said nothing as I continued to revel in the demented scene. Then, one by one, the shades joined me. Bursting into giggling fits, or full on bellowing guffaws. The joyous chorus resonated throughout the cavern and trailed off into the night. My doppelgangers began to shimmer and disperse, quieting the clamorous cackling until only one Koe and I remained.

“Well alright then, looks like we’re finally on the same page. Let’s get out of this shithole. There’s a whole wasteland of fun out there.”

“Leave?” I asked, gasping painfully past the giggles. A shining beacon of an idea cut through the fog of torment and hilarity. “Why would I… want to leave?”

The laughter vanished from his voice, “What?”

“What… what… what? Is that all… you have to say?” I panted, shakily smiling as blood dripped over my lips.

“You think you’re being cute?” Koe snapped, his mouth curling in anger.

“I’m... adorable,” I gasped as a murky darkness began to engulf my vision. “You need me… more than I… need you. Isn’t that right?”

The apparition stayed silent.

“You can do… whatever you want… to me,” I continued. “But you still need me… to walk out there… for you. Without me… you’re nothing.”

“A-are you legit standing up to me right now?” Koe asked, dumbstruck. “You can’t do that.”

“Can’t?” I asked incredulously. It was almost enough to set me off again, “With *hehe* with… everything I’ve been through today, you think you can… still scare me? I think we’re both very well aware… of what I’m capable of.” I pulled against the psychological weights ensnaring my limbs, dragging them like shackled boulders toward the shade. “You don’t… control me.”

“I suppose this means we’re at an impasse,” he whispered, eyes narrowing.

“Not really,” I muttered, shuddering as another wave of pain radiated from the empty socket. “I could just… end it. I almost did… before you showed up.”

“No, you can’t,” Koe responded, his smile returning. “There’s a big ol’ part of you that doesn’t want to die, just like everypony. That’s enough for me to work with.”

“Then how about… we go for a walk,” I pulled myself back up and turned toward the darkness further in the cave. There had to be a reason Tender Heart didn’t want the kids venturing too far in, something dangerous, and I intended to find it. “I don’t want to leave… so you can keep me standing here… until I starve to death… or you can come along… if you want.”

“Haha,” he laughed sarcastically. “Not like I have a smorgasbord of options.”

The weights suddenly lifted from my hooves, but the pain from my skull throbbed with a pulsing heat, constantly pulling my attention to the missing organ. I shot a look at my doppelganger.

“What? I didn’t say I was gonna be happy about it. Just remember that as soon as you get the inkling to run out of this place, you’re mine.”

“Not gonna happen.” With the worst enemy I’d ever known in tow, I ignited my horn and started walking further into the cave.

“So this was kinda… anticlimactic, huh?” the shade finally asked. “I really didn’t think you’d have the balls to stand up to me and now… ”

“Now the… thing that’s been pretending to be my friend is forced stay with me after his sudden, but I guess inevitable, betrayal?” I proposed. “How could I have been so stupid as to trust you? I knew what I was doing was wrong, and I still listened.”

“Because you didn’t want to die, and you wanted our friendship to be real,” he stated flatly. “You didn’t have a single pony that gave a fuck about you, and I let you feel like there was hope.”

“You don’t have to be so blunt about it,” I mumbled.

“What, that now you’re probably gonna die alone as a one-eyed freak?”

“Yeah, that,” I spat miserably.

Our conversation was cut short as a disconcerting metal shriek tore through the air. I was instantly on edge, looking all around for the source. The sound repeated itself, again and again, growing louder as we gained ground. Soon enough, it sounded like we were walking through some kind of foundry with metallic machinery working away tirelessly.

After rounding a bend, my hoof slipped. I fell to the ground and immediately began sliding down an incline, tumbling end over end until finally landing in a heap.

“Can this day get any fucking worse?” I asked to no one in particular.

“I can think of a few-” I cut him off with a glare, “-er nevermind.”

I dusted myself off before taking a look around. The noises seemed to be reaching their peak here. My light illuminated a huge, machine-drilled, circular space. The ceiling was at least twenty meters high, and every surface was perfectly smooth. It stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the cave, with its rough, hoof-dug walls.

The light came to rest on the opposite end of the room, and the source of the noises was instantly apparent. The wall was comprised of rusting metal. Hydraulic machinery was running the entire length, save for the center.

At the midpoint of the space lay an enormous gear embossed into the wall. It stretched a quarter of the way up toward the ceiling and had a short ramp leading up to it. A small console stood to the right, an array of dimly blinking buttons scattered across it. At the center of the gear stood a number, and I could barely make it out through the years of grime and rust.

42.

“What is this?” I whispered, dumbstruck.

“A-are you really asking me, or…”

I glanced back at the apparition, “Shut the fuck up, Koe.”

“Wow, rude.”

“Get used to it,” I snapped before warily stepping forward.

The closer we drew to the gear only further humbled me before its stature. My hooves made metallic clanks against the ramp as I approached. Finally, I was staring straight up at the single most alien thing I’d ever seen.

I gently ran a hoof along the smooth metal, causing several flakes of rust to tumble to the cavern floor. After a time, I walked up toward what I assumed were the controls.

“You’re not seriously thinking of trying to open this thing, are you?”

“Why not?” I asked, making a point of not looking at Koe.

“Maybe ‘cause you haven’t had the best of luck lately, and whoever built this thing may not have been trying to keep anypony out?”

I threw him a confused look.

“Maybe they were trying to keep something in,” he elaborated.

“Or maybe it’s the perfect way to keep you locked up where you can’t hurt anypony ever again, and you’re trying to convince me not to go inside,” I offered, surprising myself with how quickly I’d surmised the idea.

The shade raised a hoof for a moment, mouth agape and looking ready to respond, before he dropped it back to the floor and took on a grumpy expression, “You’re no fun when you can figure things out.”

“Well I’ve had to do a lot of learning the past few hours.” I scanned over the control panel, seeing a multitude of blinking and flashing buttons. Nothing seemed properly marked or remotely intuitive. However, a large portion of the controls was given over to a single, large button.

“You sure about this? We really could have a pretty sweet life together, wrecking shit throughout the wasteland, killing who we want, taking what we want. You get in there, there might not be any going back.”

“You’re trying to sweet talk me now?” I asked in disbelief. If I wasn’t in such crippling physical and emotional pain, it might’ve sounded funny. With a final shake of my head, I pressed the button.

A whirring sounded from within the console, and a wave of flashing passed over the controls. A distorted screen rose up from within and rows upon rows of text scrolled across it.

Stable-Tec OS V. 1.01A

Loading Into Memory 10%.

Loading Into Memory 50%.

Loading Into Memory 100%.

Welcome Stable-Tec Associate.

Error: No Stable-Tec Associate Found.

Non Stable-Tec Associate Detected.

Please State The Purpose of Your Visit.

“Um,” I stuttered, hesitant to answer a machine. “I’d like to come inside, please.”

Beginning Automated Stable Dweller Viability Assessment.

A metallic, oval object shot out of the top of the screen. It had a small, horizontal slit that emanated a red light. I stared curiously before it fired at me.

I yelped and ducked, watching overhead as the pale fan of red energy passed over the air where I’d just stood. It faintly reminded me of that slaver griffin’s strange rifles, and the ashen remains of their targets.

As I began to creep away, a tinny, female voice spoke up, “Please remain still while the viability assessment is in progress.”

Well I suppose, even if it does kill me, it’s not like that wasn’t what I’d partly been hoping for down here.

Shakily, I stood back up, meeting the eye-looking gadget again. Once more, the laser fired out and I braced myself for the inevitable disintegration. Instead, I felt a subtle warmth as a criss-cross of red light danced over me. After a few moments, the light faded and the device withdrew back into the console. A wire-frame of myself appeared on screen, spinning as various numbers and formulas scrawled over it.

“Unicorn stallion, twelve years of age, no reservations for entry match applicant’s description. Potential chemical dependencies, serious physical trauma (improperly performed exenteration), immediate medical attention required,” the voice buzzed. “Psychological makeup inconclusive, recommend further evaluation by Stable-Tec staff. Result of viability assessment… low priority for inclusion into Stable 42 residency.”

“Guess they don’t want ya,” Koe said tauntingly. “Surprise, surprise.”

“Shut the fuck up, Koe,” I said reflexively.

“Is this gonna be your new catchphrase or something?”

“If you don’t start listening, yeah it just might be.”

“Scanning current Stable population,” the terminal continued. “Medical staff: zero. Engineering staff: zero,. Education staff: zero. Custodial staff: zero. Administration staff: zero. Overmare position: unoccupied. Three-hundred of three-hundred reservations remain unclaimed. Likelihood of achieving this installation’s prime directive with current population: zero percent. Reevaluating potential Stable resident. Residency status: accepted. Please state your name.”

“Venture Forth,” I answered hesitantly.

“Welcome to Stable 42, Venture Forth. Your are one-hundred eighty-seven years, four months, and seventeen days past initial move-in period. Please visit the Auto-doc installed in this facility’s medical wing as soon as possible. Afterward, see Stable-Tec personnel for further occupancy instructions. Enjoy the following welcoming orientation.”

The screen changed over to a video. As the image came into focus, it portrayed an aging, purple, unicorn mare. Streaks of gray ran intermittently through her violet and pink mane, and years of stress hung in dark bags beneath her eyes. She sat behind a large wooden desk with her hooves pressed together atop it.

She looked oddly familiar. Upon closer inspection, she had a passing resemblance to the Masked Matter-Horn from my comics. Maybe the artist had used her likeness.

“Hello. For the few of you who may be unaware, my name is Twilight Sparkle, Ministry Mare of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences. I would like to personally welcome you all to Stable 42. The first of many in a line of collaborations between my ministry and Stable-Tec.

“You have all been hoof-selected as some of the brightest minds in our nation. So it stands to reason that there are those who may be questioning why this partnership took place. Especially with our government’s… displeasure in what they perceive as the defeatist mentality behind the founding of Stable-Tec.

“Well, if you’re watching this, then the reasoning for it has already proven itself. The Stables were created in an effort to preserve the lives of Equestria’s citizenry in the event of the worst possible outcomes of this war. However, it is the shared belief between my ministry and Stable-Tec that survival of a populace means little if it entails the loss of a millennium's worth of culture and knowledge.

“To this end we have decided to create a series of Stables, the first of which you are currently standing in. The focus of these facilities will be not only to protect you all, but to also entrust you with safeguarding the single largest collection of Equestria’s knowledge and history. The other installations will have differing fields of study, but this one is quite simple and, if I’m being honest, my personal favorite. You are to learn and pass down the knowledge recorded here. Preserve what we have, do not allow ignorance to govern the actions of our future generations.

“In conclusion. I am pleased to unveil to you all Stable 42 or, as I like to call it, The Library.”

The video feed fizzled and faded from the screen, just as an earthquake sent a shock of tremors through the space. I dived beneath the console, preparing myself for what felt like an eventual cave-in. The machinery began working harder, apexing at a high-pitched whine. Chunks of rock and rusting metal crashed to the ground, one nearly crushing my hoof as I swiftly drew it underneath me. Then, just as it seemed the entire cavern would collapse, all went silent.

Gingerly, I pulled myself out from beneath the controls, looking around dazedly.

“Sheesh,” Koe sighed, reappearing beside me. “And I thought I was anticlimactic. Hey Bitchlight Spankle, you’re blue-balling me here! I wanted to see something exci-”

A ringing alarm cut through the silence as a rotating red light flashed across the cave. Both of our heads swiveled in unison toward the giant gear, finding it begin to recess back into the wall with a metallic shriek. A grinding soon followed as the slab rolled to the side, bathing the space in a blinding, fluorescent light.

As my vision began to clear, the sight laid out before me stole the breath from my lungs. Tears of awe and joy stung at the corner of my eye. All my worries, if even just for a moment, suddenly melted away.

Books.

Shelves upon countless shelves spanned across every steel-laden wall. My legs seemed to move on their own as I stepped forward, passing beyond the entrance as another computerized voice droned on in the background. I barely registered passing through each room, only focussing upon the miraculous collection of volumes.

Each wing seemed devoted to a different subject or genre. Fiction to non-fiction, biology to fantasy. It seemed there wasn’t a single idea or theory unrepresented within this literary sanctum.

I paused after passing into a room marked, ‘Atrium.’ Four tall, curved bookshelves created a rotunda within the rectangular room. A balcony-esque second floor wrapped itself around the wall, meeting on either end of a large, round window in the center. A small sign beside the shelves read, ‘Staff Picks.’

I spun around in wonderment, basking in the glorious sight. Thousands upon thousands of books, all contained in a place that would keep us locked away from the world. It was the answer to my prayers.

It was home.

A shimmering to the side caught my eye. I turned to see, but the twinkling danced away. I cocked my head confusedly, bringing my flank into view as the source. My eyes widened as a flowing warmth radiated from the limb. Swirling motes of lavender magic slowly traced across my body before dispersing in a crackling boom of energy.

The spell faded from view, revealing a symbol across my flank. It appeared to be a gridded piece of parchment with a wavy, dashed line leading to a bolded X at the left edge. However, a jagged rip nearly split the paper in two, connected only by a thin strip at the bottom.

“A torn map?” I asked. “My special talent is a torn map?” I began wracking my brain for any sort of esoteric explanation for the cutie mark. Cartography? No, why it would it be torn? Adventuring? Couldn’t say how that correlated to right now. Recklessness? Not surprising, but I’d say locking myself in here was the most sensible thing I’d done all… my life. Finally, I arrived at what seemed the most realistic answer. “Losing my way? That seems fitting.”

Honestly? Finally receiving my cutie mark, besides feeling elated that it wasn’t a pile of bodies, didn’t seem all that imperative a worry at the moment. Maybe I could find a more positive inference later, but for now I just couldn’t summon the energy to care. Ignoring the normally monumental moment of self-discovery, I turned back toward the real prize.

The shelf labelled fiction seemed a tantalizing sight. Upon further inspection, I felt drawn to a somewhat familiar spine. I pulled out my burlap sack, sifting through the worn volumes and wooden music box. Delicately, I removed the half-copy of Daring Do and The Quest for The Sapphire Stone.

I didn’t even notice the tears dripping from my eye as I lifted the practically new copy of the same book from the shelf. Not only that, but a dozen more entries in the series sat beside it. I clutched the book closely, feeling it would be lost forever if I relinquished for even a moment. The hooffull of good memories I clung to all came rushing back. Learning to read, making friends with Ambrosia, the quiet moments when I could sit back and fantasize of living out my favorite stories.

Sharing that knowledge with Pike.

It all seemed a lifetime ago, and in many ways I suppose it was. Everything about me had changed in some way. The killings, the escape, the discovery of a new home, and the heart-wrenching agony of having it ripped away. Hell, now I even had my cutie mark, regardless of how nebulous or obvious its meaning was. But this memory, this feeling, it felt like the only scrap of comfort I had left.

Hesitantly, I pulled the book away and sat it gently on the floor, creaking open the binding. The music box levitated out, crank turning, and filled the room with the joyous melody. My necklace shimmered at the bottom, the princesses staring at me hopefully. Another burst of magic turned the pendant over as I started devouring the words.

The pain wracking my body, the trauma crashing against my sanity, and the vile, contemptuous voice that had spurred me to commit so many atrocities all quieted before the wondrous lands my mind could now escape to. Reality fell away, and all that mattered was navigating the treacherous Amarezon Jungle and thwarting the dastardly plans of Ahuizotal.

In the distance, I faintly made out the sound of the giant gear door closing once more. Sealing us away from the world outside. It barely registered as I delved further into my comforting escapism.

At the edge of my vision, the circle of Koes faded into existence once more, offering looks of condemnation and fury. I focussed intensely on the book, ignoring them in favor of the ecstatic prospect of finally finishing the story. The lights fizzled and dispersed, but not before an ominous whisper cut through.

This isn’t over.

Results of Stable Dweller Viability Assessment

Name: Venture Forth

Gender: Male

Race: Unicorn

Strength: 6

Perception: 8

Endurance: 7

Charisma: 2

Intelligence: 9

Agility: 7

Luck: 1

Unique Personality Traits:

Psychopath - You’re cold, calculating, and vindictive. You act without regard for pointless things like emotion and attachment, letting you size up and bring down opponents with lethal precision. Permanent +2 to Intelligence and Perception. However, your behavior makes others wary to trust you, and karma isn't exactly your friend. Permanent -2 to Charisma and Luck.

Cavepony - Ammo is harder to come by, and many weapons elude your understanding. However, after your years of pit fighting, you can make anything a weapon. Thrown rocks and other improvised weaponry have a 25% chance to critical hit.

Interlude I: Identity

Fallout Equestria: Insanity's Flight
By Storm128

Interlude I: Identity

I prefer to get my information from more reliable sources, like rumor and small children.

Six Months Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

Captain Golden Sunrise trotted briskly through the cloud marble halls of the EIW headquarters, her hooves passing over the seemingly-solid surface with a gentle whisper. Enormous grooved pillars stood at regular intervals, running the entirety of the hall's length. The walls on either side proudly displayed the portraits of famous military pegasi, both pre and post war. The ceiling above arched up to meet a thin layer of cloud, letting in an abundance of natural sunlight.

Dozens of doors lined either side of the hallway, and each had a series of strange, illegible blue symbols floating in midair before them. One of the standard defense mechanisms the EIW employed. Only somepony invited could locate their destination.

She absently rubbed a hoof against a series of bruises along the right side of her face, trying to relieve some of the ache emanating from Stab’s blow. Her right eye had swollen shut, and her golden coat was marred with unsightly purple splotches.

Golden avoided the stoic gazes of the agents passing by, striving to not be ensnared in their alien expressions. Those not in their custom, gold-striped power armor all wore similar, dark grey suits with matching ties. Their eyes seemed permanently cemented straight ahead, and yet the captain felt like every one of them was watching her.

There was always something… unnerving about EIW pegasi. She could never quite place it, but the presence of even one agent always seemed to chill a room. So it was no surprise that being the only non-agent in the building would set even the most battle-hardened soldiers on edge.

Eventually the Captain came to halt. The door before her looked just as unremarkable as the rest, and it wasn’t even placed in a position of seemingly any importance. What stood out, however, was that the symbols floating before it were legible, and it simply stated, “Director.”

Golden stared at the door for several seconds, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm the thundering in her chest. She’d far rather face off against Stab again than enter, but she knew her orders. With the cool weight of dread settling across her shoulders, she placed a hoof on the white door. A cascade of blue sparkles erupted above, shimmering in the sunlight like fine diamonds as they slowly descended. They flashed through several degrees of intensity before dispersing. With the sound of a gentle breeze, the door slid open.

Inside was the complete antithesis of the scenery of the hallway. The simple, square room was completely cloaked in shadow, and barren of any sign of furniture or decor. As Golden stepped inside, the entrance snapped shut. The room was doused in darkness, and causing the mare to jump forward in surprise. As she recovered her composure, a subtle whirring began to emanate from one of the walls.

As the sound stopped, it was quickly replaced by the piercing tone of a monitor powering on, and the room was suddenly awash with a blinding green light. Golden cried out and placed a hoof before her eyes, trying to shield them from the assaulting glow. As they slowly began to adjust, she could make out that the wall before her had opened, and an enormous screen had lain beyond.

The image before her was simple, a light green background with a darker shade outlining a pony’s silhouette as they sat behind a large desk. Scan lines ran horizontally across the image, and it was periodically interrupted by a burst of static.

“Good evening, Captain,” a computer-modulated voice rang out. The volume was almost painful, but the actual pony behind it sounded quite calm.

“D-Director,” Golden sputtered as she snapped a salute.

“What happened, Golden?” the voice spoke again, blunt in its asking, yet still retaining the same degree of calm.

“W-W-well, Director, it was- um- what I mean…” she trailed off as the right words escaped her, her fear of this pony overrunning every waking thought.

“It’s alright,” the voice continued, “just tell me what happened.”

She gulped, trying to swallow the terror that would undoubtedly color her response, “We were successful in capturing Stab-”

“Forgive me if that doesn’t seem to be the case,” the voice interrupted.

“Yes, well, w-what I mean is… we were successful in bringing him aboard the Eclipse?” she corrected herself, hoping the answer would satisfy the mysterious pony. She took the resulting silence as having accomplished just that. “Once onboard, General Derecho proceeded with the interrogation-”

“Or, some may say, gloating,” the pony interrupted again.

“Of course, Director, that is a much more accurate description,” Golden swiftly responded. “During the… gloating, it became very apparent that Stab was far more in control of the situation than we had initially anticipated. He was aware of certain… facts about General Derecho. Things some wastelander would never have known. Not to mention he should have had no idea that we, specifically, were coming after him.”

“He wanted to be captured,” the Director said, no question in their tone.

“That seems to be the case,” the Captain agreed. “He knew the exact layout of the Eclipse, where the general’s quarters were located, as well as his egress. Nopony outside of the Enclave… hell outside of the military would be able to know everything he did.”

“So we can only conclude that someone within the Enclave assisted him.”

“Yes, Director.”

“This is out of your hooves now, Captain,” the voice continued. “My agents will handle that part of the investigation from here.”

“Of course, Director,” Golden sighed, relieved at the removal of responsibility.

“However, none of this is exactly good news, wouldn’t you agree?”

“N-no, Director,” the Captain stuttered, her fear returning. “B-but there is more.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she replied quickly, almost tumbling over her words as she spoke. “We believe to have a positive match on this Stab’s identity. He has a file.”

“He’s had run-ins with the Enclave before?”

“Quite a bit more than that,” Golden answered. “Apparently we initiated first contact with him roughly six years ago.”

“And what was the purpose?”

“Well, Director, this is where it got a bit murky, and where you or your agency may be able to fill in some of the blanks,” the mare stated warily.

“I’m listening.”

“The vast majority of his file has been redacted, but he was apparently a very sought after target. We’d been tracking him for almost four years but then the file just sort of… ends,” she explained. “From what I’ve been able to research, he was in the company of an Enclave pegasus. Attempted contact between her and Thunderhead was what brought Stab onto our radar.”

“A pegasus?” the Director inquired. “Presumably a Dashite.”

“That was my first assumption as well,” Golden answered. “But I can’t seem to find any record of who she might have been. No entry on the Dashite registry matches her description and, of course, her name has been redacted. The last known contact between Enclave forces and Stab’s companion seems to be where his file ends, and I can’t find any other information on her. If she was indeed a member of the Enclave, then every trace of her existence has been erased.”

“What was the purpose of the last contact?”

“It was roughly two years ago, and the report only states asset retrieval.”

“Two years ago…” the Director mused. “You said you had positively identified Stab. Does it list another name?”

“Yes Director,” Golden affirmed. “He used to go by Venture Forth.”

Silence answered the Captain, drawing out into an insufferably uncomfortable length. “You are certain of this?” the Director finally asked and, even through the voice modulation, Golden could hear worry chipping at the pony’s demeanor.

“Our analysis assures at least ninety percent accuracy between this Venture Forth and eyewitness accounts from Stab’s excursion on the Eclipse,” she acknowledged.

“Then our situation has become significantly more complicated,” the voice responded instantly. “Captain, I will be informing your superiors that, for the immediate future, you will assisting the EIW with a crucial investigation. When Captain Mint Leaf is up to the task, she will join you.”

“Why us, Director?”

“Aside from the fact that you are two of the only soldiers to have come into contact with Stab and lived to tell the tale, it is because the results of the coming days shall doubtless ripple through every corner of our society. The very future of our people hangs in the balance, and Venture Forth may prove an adequate enough disturbance to tip it. I must ensure that the blowback is as harmless as possible. To that end, relatively informed representatives on all levels of government will soon be imperative.”

“What’s happening, Director,” Golden questioned, no longer able to endure the mystery. “Who is Venture Forth? Why is he such a major concern?”

“I would also like for you to enlist the aid of Lieutenant Lavender Star,” the screen continued, pointedly ignoring the question. “Her personal stake in Stab’s capture will soon prove to be invaluable. She will be a crucial asset in your investigation.”

“But I thought your agents were-”

“They will handle uncovering Stab’s Enclave contact,” the Director interrupted. “But you will be compiling as much information as possible on both his identity and his pegasus companion. You will create a report that I shall personally… edit for clarity. This will then be presented to the High Council, ensuring we have all the resources we require.”

“I already told you I couldn’t find any-”

“You will be given access to non-redacted copies of the files you perused,” the voice stated, bowling over the mare’s objection once again. “Additionally, I can identify the pegasus in question. That should ease the burden significantly.”

“Who is she?”

“She was a martyr, and it would be for the benefit of the entire Enclave that her reputation remained as such.” Another stretch of quiet strung together the statements, “Her name was Crescent Harmony.”

A flurry of loud thumps echoed through the gym. The punching bag’s suspending chains jangled incessantly as it arced toward the ceiling, reached its apex, and plummeted back toward the respiring mare.

Lavender tensed her rear legs, focus locked on the swiftly approaching weight. Just before it slammed into her, the Lieutenant’s wings twitched almost imperceptibly and both rear legs swung forward in an instant. The collision boomed around the empty space and the bag was sent flying once more. Lavender followed through with the strike, flipping her legs up before settling into a ready pose. A strained creak resounded from the chains as another hearty slam marked it crashing against the roof.

It sped back, faster than before. This time Lavender leapt into the air, snapped out her wings, and flapped vigorously. Her legs straightened and dangled against the force of lift. Another twitch of her wings set her body spinning, the momentum straining the outstretched limbs. She put the entirety of her weight behind the blow as her rear hooves smashed into the bag like a pair of sledgehammers.

A shriek of strained metal rang out as the bolt ripped out of the roof, and the canvas sack sailed into a rack of weights on the other side of the room. Raucous clangs echoed as dumbbells scattered, shattering mirrors, breaking machines, and one speeding right back toward Lavender. She held her ground, not even flinching as the hexagonal ingot clipped her just beneath the eye.

The jagged wound bled profusely, trailing down her cheeks and splattering against the matted flooring. Her lungs heaved, and her muscles howled from the exertion. Had she been going an hour? Two? Time had become somewhat immaterial in the empty, darkened gym. Unless one could gauge its passage from the four other punching bags now dispersed haphazardly around the space.

Drilling herself like this brought on pleasing moments of nostalgia, her mind wandering back to basic. Enduring the rigorous onslaught of Sergeant Gale Force’s training alongside her best friends… and Violet.

It almost proved an adequate distraction, but her thoughts always returned to that operating room. Her baby sister… the blood… the life fading from her body.

Letting her killer escape.

A burning sorrow licked at the corner of her eyes as wet trails conjoined with crimson, the cocktail of misery further staining the floor. Lavender ground her teeth and sealed her eyelids, futilely attempting to stem the unyielding tide. A choked sob escaped her, finally cracking the stoic shell she’d been constructing.

“You know,” a familiar mare’s voice called out, “this stuff ain’t cheap to replace.”

The Lieutenant snapped to attention, attempting to camouflage her sorrowful outburst. She found Golden Sunrise at the door, her face locked in grim condolence. “What do you want?”

She didn’t respond immediately, just slowly made her way into the room before taking a seat by Lavender. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that it?” the despondent mare snapped.

Again she was met with silence, the pair stewing within the lachrymose awkwardness. “When’s the service?” the Captain finally asked.

“Why do you care?” Lavender murmured gruffly, but eventually sighed in defeat. The energy necessary for her bitterness was no longer worth exerting. “Tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

She shook her head, “No. I’d just make things worse.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t see it that way,” Golden replied encouragingly.

“Well it helps that I don’t really care how they feel, now doesn’t it?” Lavender barked, standing up and stomping over to one of the bench presses.

She tapped several buttons on the automated system, adding recklessly enormous weights to the bar. Lying supine across the thin padding, she fitted both hooves into the cuffs and began the repetitious hoisting.

“Ok, I’ve tried being sympathetic and clearly that’s not working,” Golden said exasperatedly. She stood over Lavender, staring down at her like a spotter. “If you’re so desperate to run away from reality, maybe I can at least steer you in a productive direction.”

“What… are you… yammering… about?” Lavender grunted, continuing with her reps.

Golden rolled her eyes before slamming both hooves down onto the barbell. The enormous weight crashed back toward Lavender until it caught itself on the safety bar. It had narrowly avoided crushing the Lieutenant’s throat, but was close enough to keep her pinned. “I’m talking about going after the son of a bitch that killed your sister.”

Lavender glared daggers at the other mare, briefly pondering some cutting retort. Instead, she fell into a stoic silence.

“I spoke with the Director of the EIW a few hours ago,” the Captain continued once she was assured there would be no further interruptions. “They expressed their desire for you to join a task force alongside Mint Leaf and myself-”

“Not interested,” Lavender interjected, not able to contain the remark. “Although I do wish you luck in applying for another officer’s vacant cockwarmer position. That is where you two excel.”

“Another slut joke, how scathing,” Golden replied boredly. “I don’t like this anymore than you. Personally, I’d just like to be reassigned and block out the last few days as quickly as possible. But I think we both know that a request from the Director isn’t exactly optional.”

“Then they can come down here and ask me themselves,” Lavender snapped.

“Unless your grief cycle somehow includes running for High Councilmare, we both know that isn’t happening,” Golden finally released the bar and began circling the Lieutenant. “Are you really going to be this Goddess-damned obtuse? I am serving up every vengeful fuck’s wet dream on a silver platter here. We can go after your sister’s murderer with the backing of the most technologically advanced military in Equestrian history, and you’re planning to just sit there and pout?” The Captain threw her front hooves up in exasperation before turning toward the door, “Nevermind, I’m done. Should have known little miss meticulous routine couldn’t possibly go far enough outside of her comfort zone to actually make a difference.” She craned about, meeting Lavender’s conflicted gaze, “Not even for her own family.”

“Wait!” Lavender shouted, pushing up the bar and bounding after Golden. The Captain stopped, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “What… what would I have to do?”

A pleased smile graced Golden’s lips, “First would be helping us with a few clerical issues here in Thunderhead. We have to ensure the High Council has nothing to offer us but their most heartfelt blessing. Then, well…” Golden trailed off in a sinister chuckle, “then we track down that piece of shit, and you get to have a nice, long, private conversation with him.”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might,” Golden purred. “Well, first things first,” she dropped a manila envelope in front of Lavender, motioning for her to inspect it.

Eyebrows furrowed, Lavender began scanning over the enclosed documents. A series of scouting reports detailing surface expeditions dating back several years, primarily focussed on the Marejave. The Lieutenant’s analytical instincts took over as she read, knitting together their related information into a coherent narrative.

“You believe Stab is actually this Venture Forth,” Lavender announced. “A wastelander with… no obvious unique qualities. At least nothing that would warrant this level of observation, save for his association with an unnamed pegasus. Four years of reports on the pair’s activity in the desert, with every scouting party in the area having it made a primary objective to monitor them. Is that about right?”

Golden’s eyes widened in shocked approval, “Impressive as always, Lieutenant. Yes, that was my understanding as well.”

“It doesn't make any sense,” Lavender stated matter-of-factly, tossing the envelope back to the floor.

“In what regard?”

“These ‘scouting reports’ are nothing but lies. Believe me, after you’ve dealt with a few dozen recruits dropping their power armor off a cloud, and knowing they’d rather chop of a wing then admit it, you start to pick up on doctored requisition forms.” She indicated a few of the reports, “Expended ammunition is all within margin of error for the average scouting mission, not strange by itself seeing as how even a lot of veteran troops don’t exactly count their shots like they should be. However ‘lost equipment’ seems to conveniently include a good number of spark batteries, replacement weaponry, munitions, etcetera. The sort of equipment usage one would expect from an assault team. These weren’t scouting missions, they were tactical strikes.”

“Tactical strikes?” Golden deadpanned.

“Obviously nothing about him warrants that kind of attention, so there has to be something incredible about this pegasus,” the Lieutenant pondered.

“Well she’s never named in any of the EIW’s files, but the Director at least gave me that. It’s Crescent Harmony.”

“Wait, the psychologist?” Lavender inquired.

“You know her?”

“I’m surprised you don’t,” the Lieutenant huffed. “It was all anypony was talking about… what? Six years ago?”

“Enlighten me,” Golden instructed.

“You know about the rumblings for this ‘Volunteer Corps’ nonsense, right? A bunch of eye-in-the-sky pegasi looking to rid the surface of raiders and slavers through peace, love and understanding?”

“The suicidal philanthropists? Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, this Crescent Harmony is basically one of the bannermares for it… at least symbolically. Six years ago she accompanied a scouting regiment down to the surface. She actually wanted to see about getting a slaver on her couch for a full on psychoanalysis.”

“Gee, I wonder how ponies raised in a radioactive hellscape could turn out a little bit screwed up?” Golden commented sarcastically.

“Same, but back then there was a pretty vocal group that wanted to encourage more philanthropic expeditions to the surface. Crescent Harmony wanted to show that such a journey was even possible. Then…” Lavender trailed off.

“Then what?”

“Then she and every one of her escorts were wiped out by the first group of raiders they tried to make contact with. At least that’s what the military wire reported.”

“Wait, if she was killed the same day she got down there, how could it be her in these scouting reports? Why does the Director want us to compile all this information on her?”

“Those are the real questions,” Lavender intoned. “If what the Director said is true then Crescent Harmony didn’t die, at least not at the time or place that was given to the public. Not only that, but her death was what reinforced the High Council’s feelings about contact with the wasteland. It shut down any talk of sending aid to the surface, and set the Volunteer Corps’ efforts back years. It was even the centerpoint of Councilmare Drizzling Skies’s election campaign. Her isolationist policies didn’t gain a lot of traction with voters of the time until Crescent Harmony’s death. After that, she won in a landslide.”

“Drizzling Skies? Derecho’s mother?” the Captain asked.

“The very same,” Lavender answered.

“This… this is turning out to be a lot more complicated than I thought it would,” Golden said dazedly, rubbing a hoof along her temple.

“Nothing is simple when the EIW is involved,” the Lieutenant stated. “I don’t know what we’ve stumbled into here, but it’s significantly more complex than some surfacer psychopath with a bone to pick.” Lavender snatched up the documents and began heading out of the gym, “If we’re planning to catch Stab and make him answer for his crimes, then we’ve got a pretty big web to untangle first.”

Golden began to follow, “So what’s the plan?”

“Like you said, clerical work. When we have the resources and funding to actually go after him, then we can start identifying who all was involved.” Lavender’s brow scrunched up in focussed anger, “If it turns out that Stab was just the gun, and somepony up here pulled the trigger, then I’ll be damned sure they have to answer as well.”

She locked gazes with the other mare, the intensity of the stare halting the Captain mid-step, “Nopony who had a hoof in this will be walking away.”

Including me, she thought to herself.

Crescent Harmony

Fallout Equestria: Insanity’s Flight
By Storm128

Chapter 6: Crescent Harmony

Nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everybody’s gonna die… come watch TV.

Six Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

“Just broke the cloud layer,” our pilot’s staticky voice announced over the passenger bay intercom. “ETA to ground side is seven minutes.”

The vertibuck suddenly jolted upward, straining our safety harnesses and sending a reverberating groan through the hull. The turbulence set my heart hammering. My hooves grasped at my stomach, futilely attempting to soothe the roiling within. I sealed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying desperately to not show off such an irrational fear.

I really hated flying.

Certainly not the base act itself, I liked to stretch my wings as much as any pegasus. But the thought of a flying machine, my life completely in the hooves of its structural integrity and the prowess of the stranger piloting it? That turned my stomach in a way no midnight diner food had a prayer of doing.

“Yo, Doc Harmony, ya feelin’ alright?” Mist Glider asked as she moved to sit beside me. The squad leader was already outfitted in her full, jet-black power armor, the helmet coloring her voice in a subtle static.

I flashed a strained smile, “Oh I’m just peachy kee- *hurk*.” I doubled over, grabbing one of my personal stock of airsick bags and expelling my unwisely chosen breakfast. Shockingly, they weren’t standard equipment on pegasus-flown aircraft.

A comforting hoof began gently massaging my back, and a quiet, digitized chuckle began to underscore my heaving, “*hehe* An airsick pegasus, now I have seen it all.”

The laughter quickly subsided as Mist Glider leapt down from the seat and crouched before me, locking our gazes as I spat out the remaining sick. Unfortunately, instead of strong, reassuring eyes, her reflective lenses merely portrayed a royal blue pegasus with a long silver and white mane tied into a sloppy braid. A pegasus pathetically doubled over in her seat and trying not to vomit doing the one thing her race was best known for.

“You know, Doc,” she whispered, concern creeping into her tone, “down there things are gonna get a lot rockier than Steelwing’s exceptional pilotin’ skills.” She glared toward the cockpit, as if assuming the stallion on the other side could feel its intensity. “I know you’ve read the reports, but that ain’t nothin’ like meetin’ the wasteland eye-to-eye, feel me? Now I gotta admit that it's hard for me to wrap my mind around this whole cause of yours. I mean, I’ve met more than couple good souls just tryin’ to survive down here, good folk who could use your help. But I know they ain’t who you're lookin’ to run into. I’m talkin’ ponies that’re just as likely to shove a grenade up your ass as wave at ya.”

I smirked at the illustration.

“Ya seem to be under the incredibly naive assumption that I'm exaggeratin’,” she chided. “I ain't. In fact, happened just a couple weeks ago when one of my rookies was caught on patrol.” The Sargeant shrugged, “We actually thought they was lettin’ him go. Watched him walk kinda funny until he got halfway back to camp, then the lever dropped out his backside. Barely had a chance to scream before… boom.”

The smile vanished, and I suddenly felt compelled to finish filling the bag.

“There’s a lotta kind ponies in the wasteland. Maybe a’fore we go galavantin’ into some raider hellhole and askin’ for a polite lil’ sit down, we could fly to some quaint settlement and talk to a couple locals. That sounds nice, don’t it?”

I took an enormous breath, pushing out my chest and bulging my eyes to an impossible diameter before expelling the air in a relieved gush. “Thank you *gasp* for you concern *gasp* Sargeant.” My composure somewhat recovered, I straightened up in the seat and brought back the smile, “But I know what I’m doing. My condition is merely a result of my dubious decision to partake of last week’s leftover El Heno Loco. A poor choice on my part, but I woke up late and there was nothing else to eat. I assure you it is no indication of my current readiness.”

“Jumbo hayritto?” she asked knowingly.

“With extra pico de gallo,” I confirmed.

Mist Glider chuckled again, shaking her head as she headed off to speak with the rest of the squad, “Whatever you say, Doc.”

I kept up the grin, the edges of my mouth twitching painfully until she was out of earshot. Then I snatched the next bag and finished emptying my stomach. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it would be if Mist Glider knew about my lead-lined stomach. No leftovers in the world were too out of date for a graduate student studying for her finals.

“Alright,” Steelwing announced over the intercom, “Touching down in thirty seconds.”

My eyes locked onto the sliding exit hatch. The rotors outside blurred to a near solid circle as the dust kicked up, blinding us from the outside.

“Get tactical, Trojan,” Mist Glider barked, addressing her squad mates. “Touch down in ten, nine-”

Maybe it’s not too late to back out. Surely nopony actually expects me to psychoanalyze some disturbed, violent, grenade sodomizing psychop- I mean wastelander. Just a quick peak outside for the posterity of the Volunteer Corps would be more than enough.

Right?

“-eight, seven, six-”

Oh Goddess, this is insane. I should put myself on the couch for thinking this was a good idea. I’m a fucking psychologist for Celestia’s sake. I’ve never even fired a gun. What am I doing here?!

“-five, four-”

We have to turn the vertibuck around. I can’t do this. I want my shitty apartment back, I want my questionable leftovers, I want to wake up and find out this was all just a bad dream.

I don’t want to die down here.

“-three, two, one,” Mist Glider finished as the aircraft jolted from the wheels contacting the ground. The apexing whine of the rotors finally began to die down, and the sliding doors crashed open. “Go, go, go!” the Sergeant boomed, beckoning her squad to exit.

They stampeded out the sides, taking aim through the blinding dust and beginning to sweep the landing zone. Before she joined them, Mist Glider turned back toward me and offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “It’s gonna be ok, Doc. We got this.”

I gave a shaky nod in return and followed her outside. The remaining members of Trojan squad continued fanning out, checking behind every nearby sand dune and rocky outcropping. We’d landed in a small canyon, barely wide enough to accommodate the vertibuck, but just high enough to hide us from outside view.

For the first time in my life, my hooves touched real dirt.

It was a very… gray morning. I’d never seen the underside of the cloud layer before. The oppressive, roiling gloom almost tauntingly withheld the sheer majesty of a sunswept dawn. The air smelled of rot and dust, and I could practically feel the tingling of radiation dance across my coat.

I nearly crumbled beneath the depressing sight. This is what the wastelanders faced every day? Had they truly never seen the sun? The idea felt so preposterous, and yet here was the proof right before me. Until that moment I had never appreciated how truly blessed were the circumstances of my birth.

In another life, this could have been my home.

My resolve began to strengthen. There wasn’t any room for self-pity on this crucial mission. This was why I was here. To understand the minds of the worst of the wasteland’s populace, find the commonality between our people, and finally reunite the Equestrian race.

I was here to bring the sun out again.

The earth collapsed beneath my hooves.

A surprised shriek escaped me as a fleshy, writhing mass dug its way out from the dirt below. It hissed in anger and clawed at my legs, collapsing us to the ground. In an instant my vision was dominated by mottled pink flesh, giant gnashing incisors, and beady red eyes. “Help!”

Instantly, every plasma rifle levelled back at me, trying to get a sight on the creature. “Shoot it!” I cried, hammering my hooves against the monster and trying to shove it away. “Shoot it! Shoot it! Shoot it!”

A piercing sound cut through the air as a green beam flashed in front my eyes. I immediately caught the scent of ozone… and burning mane as a few strands of silver and white suddenly turned to charcoal.

The creature froze mid-strike, its jaw poised to take a hunk out of my abdomen. Instead it flashed a solid shamrock, then fell apart into a jelly that splattered all over my legs and stomach.

My jaw quivered as shock settled in. Adrenaline fueled the jackhammering in my chest and my eyes felt cemented open. I glanced down at the creature’s remains, witnessing it ooze into every part of my clothes. I didn't even want to think of all the places I'd be washing it out of.

“... ew.”

Mist Glider started laughing again as she trotted up to me, offering a hoof. As I righted myself, she patted my back, “Welcome to the wasteland, Doc.”

~~~~~

“Alright, break’s over! Get the lead out, temps! I ain’t payin’ for y’all to be lollygaggin’,” Whiskey Stone shouted back toward us.

My eyes snapped open, staring up into the darkened clouds above. The grayness was becoming ever so slightly lighter, signifying dawn was finally breaking for the scav crew. I sat up, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. We were supposed to just be catching our breath, but the rock I was seated on proved comfortable enough for nodding off. I was thankful for the alarm, though. I didn’t need to see the end of that dream again.

Had it really already been a month?

Whiskey was waiting for us with statuesque patience. The chestnut stallion rubbed a hoof through his scraggly, tan beard; eyes of judgemental disappointment glaring down from his rocky perch.

“Whiskey, it ain’t even the crack o’ dawn,” another stallion, Crosshair I think, snapped. He was seated with the rest of the group, five in all, still panting after the marathon march from Hoofsprings we’d been undertaking all morning. Huh, I guess I hadn’t been asleep that long. Dreams really are a peculiar thing. “What in tarnation could have you crackin’ the whip this early?”

The older pony hopped down and locked gazes with the defiant youth, “Maybe on account of the fact that in the last twenty-four hours I’ve had Tumbler’s scav team report findin’ a motherfuckin’ Stable nothin’ but a mornin’ jog’s away from Hoofsprings, then goin’ quiet just an hour later. Why in Celestia’s fine fuckin’ flanks do you think I’d take any o’ y’all rookies to go after ‘em? I need this done, and I need it done now.”

“‘Cause you’re worried ‘bout your daughter, or that she found something good enough to keep from ya?” Crosshair asked snidely.

“Pick one,” Whiskey answered callously. “Now will somepony please wake up the Goddess-damned doctor?”

“Doctor’s awake!” I shouted instantly, raising a hoof, and startling the closest scavvers. I trotted up to the pair, “Awake, ready, and eager to do her job. Wait, well I guess not eager since that would mean I want one of you to get hurt, which I obviously don’t… B-but which I could totally handle,” I laughed nervously. “Yep, no problems here. A-plus doctor, at your service.”

The two stallions each cocked an eyebrow.

“Um, I’m just gonna stop talking… and go over there to do some… doctor… stuff,” I murmured, awkwardly shuffling back toward my pack.

“Smooth,” a taupe, unicorn mare commented sarcastically. She took a long drag off her suspended cigarette before playfully tossing it at my hooves.

“Thanks, Cracks,” I answered, equally acidic. I checked over my belongings, making sure every one of the precious healing potions was stowed safely. If I actually had to go about trying to be a medic, they were all I could rely on. “I am just so fucking happy you brought me along that I could punch you right in that arrogant little mug of yours.”

“Is that how you talk to your patients? I can see why those birdbrains kicked your ass down here. Wouldn’t want you as my shrink,” she jabbed, only slurring a couple words. She took a swig from a rusty flask before lighting another smoke.

“Keep it down!” I hissed panickedly, barely restraining myself from slapping a hoof over her mouth.

“Why? I keep telling you it ain’t a big deal,” Cracks took a pull from the cigarette and blew the resulting cloud in my face. “Shit, I saw a pegasus over in New Appleloosa just last week, y’all are starting to get a lot more common down here.” She looked contemplative a moment, “He was a handsome fella. Maybe I’ll look him up next time I’m over that way.”

I waved the smoke away, “It’s just… advice somepony gave me once, ok? I trusted you since you’ve really been helping me down here. Please don’t let that make me look like more of an idiot than I already do.”

“Fine, fine,” she agreed, shooing me away. “But quit your bitching. You’re the one who said you needed the job.”

“I know, and I’m grateful for the opportunity, really,” I opined. “It’s just a little nerve wracking. I mean me, a medic? Was that really all there was? I don’t know if I can pull this off.”

“But you are a doctor.”

“Yes, but not that kind of doctor. I’m not a-”

“A useful one?” she interrupted, flashing a shit-eating grin.

“I… really hate you sometimes,” I stated breathily.

“Oh you know you love it. Somepony’s gotta keep you grounded, fly-girl,” Cracks replied, patting my back and standing. “Can’t afford to get a big head in your position.”

“Believe me, my ego has never been in more shambles,” I murmured. “Not even when I wet my costume at my school’s Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant.”

“Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about,” Cracks said encouragingly, “that kinda stuff happens when we’re kids.”

“It was graduate school,” I admitted somberly.

Cracks shook her head, “Wow. For a shrink, you got a shit ton of issues.”

“You’re telling me,” I whispered to myself.

The scav team kept up the march until mid-morning. A small mesa crept into view through the dimly-lit dawn. It was pretty unremarkable, save for the trail of hoofprints leading right up toward it.

“Almost there, y’all,” Whiskey announced. “These are the last coordinates Tumbler sent before goin’ silent.”

I noticed several of the scavvers begin scanning over their various bits of weaponry, loading magazines, and ensuring disabled safeties. Gulping, I turned toward Cracks, noticing she too was inspecting the cylinder of her magnum and reinforcing the crude duct-tape job keeping her Pipbuck attached. As boorish as she might’ve been, Cracks often lauded herself as the best Stable-cracker in the Marejave.

“You don’t think Whiskey would actually have us fight his own daughter, do you?” I asked reservedly.

“He might,” she responded in laconic boredom.

“But they’re family,” I blurted, perhaps a bit too loud as Crosshair spared a suspicious glance, but continued feeding bullets into his hunting rifle. I lowered my voice, “Would they really kill each other over a two-century old bunker?”

“I don’t think you got the proper context to be judging the situation,” Cracks flicked the cylinder of her pistol closed and checked the sights. “For a scav team, a virgin Stable is more valuable than a Stable-full of virgin whores. We’re talking about caches of food meant to last for centuries. Water talismans that can provide for entire settlements. Perfectly preserved wartime technologies that everypony from junk vendors to the Goddess-damned Steel Rangers would kill to get their hooves on. A well-equipped Stable can mean the difference between running a podunk scav team, and a wasteland-wide enterprise. So do I think a father and daughter may have a bit of a falling out over who gets to claim it? As sure as the sun ain’t coming out tomorrow.”

“I guess I never thought about it like that,” I mumbled, disturbed by the sureness in her statement. “Back in Thunderhead, family was all we had. Everypony was so cutthroat and laissez-faire when it came to helping others, that your family were the only ponies you could really trust. I couldn’t even dream about harming any of them.”

Cracks snickered, “When I was a kid, and my Stable got cracked by slavers, first thing my dear old mama did was offer me up on a silver platter to save her own hide.” She finished her cigarette and stamped it into the dirt, “Family, friends, trust, it all don’t mean shit down here. It’s everypony for themselves.”

We fell quiet at that, finishing the journey to the mesa in a silence only broken by the loading and cocking of the guns around us. Even I took out the little .32 on my hip and checked the safety. But, just like the potions in my bag, I was praying to any deity that would listen for me not to have to use it. I highly doubted I’d be much help in a firefight anyway.

Finally we arrived. A small cavern stood on the side of the mesa, and the tracks all led inside. There were several rotten boards around the entrance, and a sign that had long fallen over lay half-buried. I swept some of the collected sand off, finding it read, ‘No Trespassing.’”

“Looks like a welcome mat to me,” Cracks jibed, jabbing me in the ribs as she stepped past.

“Ok, y’all. Here’s how things are gonna play out,” Whiskey stated, stepping in front of the entrance. “We head on in there ‘til we find the Stable, then try and make contact with Tumbler and her team. I ain’t sure what we’re gonna find in there, but whatever happens, I’ll be the one giving the orders, hear me? Nopony does a fuckin’ thing ‘til we get the full picture.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Crosshair answered patronizingly. The rest of the team all muttered similar assents.

“Good,” the older stallion acknowledged. “Cracks, you’re up front with me. Riveter, North Star,” he said, addressing an earth pony stallion and mare. “I want you two guardin’ the doctor. She’s the only thing keepin’ us alive if shit goes south.” I cringed back from the undeserved assurity in his voice. “Doc, you’re in the center. Just try to keep your head down. Crosshair, take the rear. Keep us covered with that rifle of yours.”

The scav team got into position before we filed into the cave. Almost instantly the light from outside disappeared, leaving us reliant on Cracks’s horn and a lantern Whiskey pulled out of his gear. The echoey chamber seemed to stretch on for miles, and I began to wonder just how deep these Stables had to be.

After a time, Whiskey raised a hoof and the party came to a halt. “Hold up, looks like we got a couple bodies here.”

A lump lodged itself in my throat. While I’d seen an unfortunate number of corpses since I’d been groundside, it still wasn’t something I’d gotten used to. Whiskey and Cracks slowly crept forward, both his shotgun and her revolver levelled ahead of the bodies. They visibly relaxed after reaching them. “Eh, false alarm. Looks like these two have been here for a while.”

The party resumed its forward march. I desperately tried to avert my gaze from the sight, but a morbid force of curiosity locked my gaze onto them as we trotted past. They were very nearly decomposed, though I imagine the dank cavern may have been affecting the process. It looked like a stallion and mare, their heads turned toward one another. Enough of the flesh had rotted away to show a sharp break in both of their spines.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, I chanted internally, sealing my eyes and trying to calm my breathing. Soon enough the musky, rotting smell faded from the air, plunging us back into disconcerting quiet.

Whiskey stopped our advance once again. “I think that’s their radio,” he announced, trotting forward and directing his lantern at a small, metal box. The stallion crouched before it and flicked the power switch. Instantly the needle on the front panel jumped to a particular frequency and a hushed static echoed from the speaker. Whiskey shook his head, “That’s our station. Doesn’t look like they contacted anypony else, and it’d mighty stupid of them to just leave this behind.”

“So what’re you thinking?” Cracks asked.

“That we need to get to findin’ my team,” he snapped sharply, turning and continuing on into the cave.

It wasn’t long before we were forced to halt again at the precipice of a steep incline. Further inspection found us a rusty metal stairway descending into the darkness. Whiskey poked curiously at the railing, a small grin spreading across his lips, “Yessiree, that’s Stable-Tec steel right there.”

Without another thought, the scav team leader descended down the steps. Despite the occasional creak, the structure held together without issue. Hesitantly, the party filed after him.

The bottom greeted us with an exhilarating sight. A monolithic wall of steel dominated the opposite side of the room. The only imperfection in the machined metal was an enormous, embossed gear that lay flush with its surroundings. Chipped, rusting paint in the center still clearly portrayed the lettering, ‘42.’

Crosshair whistled in awe, “Luna’s chapped tits, old man. You wasn’t lyin’.”

“I don’t waste anypony’s time,” Whiskey replied, not taking his eyes off the Stable and his smile only growing wider. He shook the expression off his face, “We ain’t gettin’ nothin’ done standin’ around. Cracks, let’s bust this thing open.”

“My pleasure, bossman,” she announced happily, practically drooling toward the console as she made her way forward. “Come to mama.”

The stallion nodded toward her, “Doc, you stick with Cracks. The rest of y’all, get into cover in front of the door. I don’t want no surprises, hear me?”

I followed the other mare up toward the door controls, fascinated as she began dancing her hooves over the unintuitive array. Cracks’s usual air of lethargy vanished as her eyes ignited at the challenge. It was always enrapturing for me to bear witness to a pony’s talent. Utilizing the most ancient, undefined secrets of our world to accomplish a task that destiny itself had granted them the ability to overcome. It was beautiful.

A series of beeps, boops and a final disheartening buzz were the awards for her efforts.

“Well,” she said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head, “Somepony is definitely in there, or at least they were. A terminal inside set up the security.”

“Is that a problem?” Whiskey asked harshly.

“Naw,” Cracks rejected, fanning a hoof at him. “Just giving you a heads up that somepony in there may not want any visitors, that’s all. It’s just your standard eight-bit ESCII password protection. Betcha twenty caps I crack it before old Recursive in there did.”

“You can compare times when you get it open,” Whiskey barked. “Hell, if he was in on takin’ this place from me, you’ve got a permanent spot on the team.”

I watched over her shoulder, trying to follow the rapid commands she was hammering into the Pipbuck. Since I’d met her, Cracks had given me a couple tutorials on terminal hacking. I had taken a semester of programming in my undergrad, so it wasn’t the most alien thing I’d ever done. Still, the basics I had down didn’t compare to the rapid stream of information Cracks was feeding into the device.

After another thirty seconds of data entry, the terminal sprung to life.

Stable-Tec override, accepted.

A buzzing alarm echoed from the door as a red warning light panned around the room. The enormous gear shrieked in protest as the slab was pulled into its recession and began rolling to the side. Fluorescent light spilled around the edges, and every pony in the room strained their necks to be the first to witness the treasures within.

What a mistake that was.

Looks of eagerness and greed withdrew before horror and disgust. One could be forgiven for thinking an amateur painter had set out to give the entry way a bold new look by sloshing paint buckets against the walls. Splotches of red dripped across every surface, pooling together on the floor, or drying into hideous mosaics across the steel. Even several of the light fixtures above were splattered in blood, their light still shining through and further cloaking the room in its scarlet shroud.

However, it all paled in comparison to what lie in the dead center of the space. As the gear finally cleared the way, it revealed five pieces of rebar jutting vertically out of the floor. The four flanking the center were each crowned with a severed pony head, tongues lulling from their maws and horror frozen in their eyes.

The center of the horrendous gibbeting was what drew the eye. A tan mare, not dissimilar to the tone of Whiskey Stone’s beard, was left somewhat whole. The crude pike was lodged between her rear legs and pierced out the right side of her neck. A piece of paper appeared to be stapled to her chest and, in admittedly fine penmanship, somepony had boldly written a warning.

‘Please Stay Out’

As if the appalling scene couldn’t get any worse, the mare twitched and wheezed what might have been a cough. A spurt of red jetted out of the neck wound.

Oh Goddesses above, she was alive.

“T-Tumbler?” Whiskey stuttered, his eyes widening.

The impaled mare shakily raised her head, the small motion causing her to sink just a bit further down the bar. Her eyes shot open as she let out a sodden, gasping shriek. As her cries began to quiet, Tumbler locked onto her father. “P-Pa… it hurts… p-please… m-make it stop.”

“No,” the stallion said breathily, the expression on his face showing nothing but disbelief. “My lil’ girl.” A sputtering noise, somewhere between a sob and a gag, escaped him before it morphed into an anguished howl. “TUMBLER!”

He galloped forward, stopping just short of the macabre spectacle. Whiskey reached out a hoof, but quickly withdrew it. Obviously experience was tempering his actions. Instead he whipped toward me, “Doc, get the fuck down here!”

“I- bu- wha-?” I stuttered, the shock of our discovery not quite having sunken in. This wasn’t happening. This was, literally, the worst possible way things could have played out. I can’t do this, we’re not just playing doctor anymore. Tumbler needed real help. How could I have been so stupid as to sign up for this? How stupid was I to get myself stuck down here in the first place?

I started hyperventilating, my eyes cemented onto the eviscerated mare, “I… I ca-”

“GODDESS-DAMMIT, DOC!” the hysterical father shrieked. “PLEASE, HELP HER!”

Finally snapped from my traumatized trance, I shakily approached, “H-hi there, m-my name is Doctor Harmony.” I tried to smile as convincingly as possible, but I couldn't shake the feeling it was coming off fairly psychopathic.

Tumbler was rapidly gasping short, strained breaths. Her eyes moved to meet mine, but that was all.

“S-so what brings you in today?” I joked nervously, instinct forcing me to laugh in the fakest possible way.

It didn’t exactly dispel the tension like I’d hoped.

“What in the shit do you think you’re doin’?” Whiskey barked venemously. “My baby girl is dyin’ and you just tryin’ to make light of it?!” Furious snorts gushed from his nostrils, and he looked about one more bad joke away from bashing my skull in.

“Don’t waste your time, Doc,” Crosshair stated boredly. “You’ll just be throwin’ away potions.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Whiskey snarled, his fury redirecting at the other stallion.

“‘Xactly what I said,” he replied patronizingly. “Anypony with a lick o’ sense can tell she’s a lost cause. Whatever did this to her is still in there, and by the look o’ it, we’ll be needin’ them supplies a hell o’ a lot more than lil’ miss pole dancer here w-”

The older stallion slammed a hoof into Crosshair’s jaw, sending him tumbling to the floor. He didn’t stop there as he stood above the supine scavver and began hammering blows against his skull. “You mouthy lil’ shit! That’s my! Fuckin’! Daughter!” he shouted, punctuating the last three words with their own individual punches.

Crosshair struggled beneath Whiskey’s weight, but finally managed to leverage a leg and knock the older stallion off balance. He aimed a kick at Whiskey’s jaw, forcing him to retreat. With the space he’d bought, Crosshair turned and unholstered his rifle, working the bolt action, “You know it’s gotta be this way, think about it ol’ man!”

BANG!

The sudden, blaring crack echoed around the small space, forcing everypony to turn toward the Stable. Cracks stood still, listlessly taking a drag off her cigarette as she held the smoking .44 aloft, “If’n we’re all quite finished with this incredibly impressive display of dick waving, mayhaps we can actually figure out a more amicable plan of action?”

I rubbed a hoof against my hear, praying that the piercing ring would eventually stop, “Thanks for the tinnitus.”

Cracks snorted, “What, so now you’re a real doctor?”

I narrowed my eyes in retort.

Whiskey and Crosshair glared at each other, but neither made a move to continue the confrontation. The younger stallion casually wiped a drip of blood from his lip.

“Good,” Cracks began. “Now that we’re all acting like adults again, let’s figure this out.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Whiskey asked. “Unless you missed it, we ain't exactly blessed fer time.”

The mare nodded, “You’re right, but so is dipshit here.” She motioned at Crosshair, and he returned the comment with a curled lip. “Ain’t a doctor in the Marejave that could save Tumbler in our current setting, and there ain’t even a prayer of getting her back to Hoofsprings alive.”

The impaled mare whimpered pitifully at the woeful declaration.

“It’s rude to interrupt, darling,” Cracks rebuked, sparing a glance at Tumbler before continuing. “However, that don’t mean there ain’t some hope.”

“Then what in the hell’re you waitin’ fer?” Whiskey snapped angrily. “Out with it!”

“A lot of these here Stables were equipped with Auto-Docs,” Cracks answered. “Robotic surgeons that could damn near bring somepony back to life, the pinnacle of medical science during the war. If there’s any chance of saving your daughter, it’s gonna be us clearing a path to the medical bay.”

“Then let’s find it,” Whiskey commanded. He drew himself back up, the usual sense of calm determination returning to his demeanor. “Doc, give Cracks a couple o’ them potions and stay out here with Tumbler. Just… just do what ya can. The rest o’ y’all, form up around me. We’re findin’ that Auto-Doc, but if any o’ ya’ll happen to come across the walkin’ cadaver that did that this to my lil’ girl? Keep ‘em alive until I get my hooves on ‘em.”

A short round of agreement (a bit less from Crosshair) answered Whiskey before the party grouped up and began marching into the Stable. I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful I wasn’t deemed necessary for this excursion.

Cracks turned toward one of the mounted heads as she passed through the entrance, an older stallion’s with a grey coat and an aged, white mane. I had a flickering moment of recognition, remembering the stallion as one Cracks often went drinking with back in Hoofsprings. The few times I’d joined them resulted in an unending tirade of optimal hacking strategies, neither ever conceding the inefficiencies of their own techniques, but always finishing the night with drunken laughter and camaraderie.

The mare smiled weakly as she patted his head, “Recursive’s patented cryptographic hash function, my ass. Betcha my trojan cracked it in half the time, old man.”

Just as Cracks stepped into the Stable proper, a soft bong echoed from an unseen PA system.

‘Good morning citizens of Stable 42. Please stand by for an announcement from your Overmare.’

A crackling static replaced the audio, laying another layer of disconcertment over the scene. After a few seconds, a young, raspy, and (surprisingly) stallion’s voice broke through.

“I told them to leave.”

A few deep breaths followed, almost like the speaker was trying to compose himself.

“This is my home. I didn’t want to hurt them, but he made me. He’s always there, watching, waiting. He doesn’t care, he wants you to suffer, but I don’t. They didn’t have to die, and neither do any of you.”

Everypony in attendance turned toward each other, offering looks of utter bewilderment.

“Leave now, don’t come back. This is my world, I am its master, its god. NOT. HIM. But that’s only true if its just the two of us. You CAN’T exist here, and I’m begging you to believe that is what’s best. Please…”

The voice trailed off, a round of sorrowful moans greeting us until finally-

“Please don’t make me kill you.”

A Broken Home

They grounded me and said, ‘You can come out when you’re normal.’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m gonna be in here for a really long time.’

Six Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

“Please don't make me kill you,” I wheezed, releasing the intercom controls with a staticky click. I slumped back in the padded chair and began running a hoof through my matted mane. A shower of rust-brown sprinkled downward as the dried blood flaked off.

The static-filled security feed on the monitor before me showed the intruders hesitating, milling about as if considering my warning. I felt a small glimmer of hope, but it was shattered as they began filing into the Stable’s inner corridors.

“Goddess-dammit, why!” I shouted, bringing up my forelegs and slamming them against the oaken-topped, circular desk. “Why can't they just leave me the fuck alone!”

I swept my limbs across the surface, causing an avalanche of old food containers, bottles, and… books. A flash of horrified realization burst from my horn, halting the fall of the bound treasures and suspending them aloft. I breathed a sigh of relief, gingerly sorted the collection, and returned them to the appropriate gaps in the shelves behind me.

Another cast sprung a different, green-bound volume out of the shelf and opened it in the air before me. ‘Bliss Out: A Guide For Calmly Traversing Life’s Struggles In A Post-Harmonic World’ by Treehugger. I flicked to the first chapter, “Diaphragmatic Breathing, The First Step Toward Tranquil Meditation.”

I continued to read aloud, only pausing to follow the more specific instructions. Within minutes, I began to calm and replaced the book in its proper space.

With a final, steady exhale, I turned my gaze toward the door. In the shadows laid a large, vaguely pony-like silhouette. “What in Tartarus’s name is happening? We’ve been secure for years, and now twice in two days somepony has broken in?!”

The figure did not respond.

“What, nothing to say?” I asked incredulously. “You’re supposed to be the chief security officer, so start acting like it!”

I rose from the… well technically it was still called the Overmare’s desk. I hadn’t quite figured out if there even was a way to change the designation in the Stable’s systems, but I was never exactly chomping at the bit to use a terminal either. In fact, I tried to keep any prolonged exposure to those contraptions to a minimum.

Perhaps Stable-Tec had only planned for mares to be in control of these facilities. I wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, regardless it never really seemed like something that should occupy a sizable amount of my concern.

I stalked toward the other figure, stopping just before our muzzles touched. While he was by no means the same towering presence I’d known in my youth, the pony still stood a full head higher than myself.

“You promised me you could handle this,” I reared up and slammed my hooves against the pony, pushing him back with surprising ease until we crashed against the steel door. A loud crack split the air, followed by splintering wood. “Why can’t you keep them out? Why are you making me kill so many ponies, Pike?!”

I released my hold as the figure toppled to the ground and into the dim cone of my reading lamp. The enormous, red-painted mannequin shattered against the floor, it’s limbs popping off and chunks of the torso crumbling.

A horrified gasp escaped me, “Oh Goddess, no!” I swept the pieces up in my magic and desperately attempted to reconstruct my brother. The limbs reattached easily enough, and a quick perusal through my repertoire of spells swiftly located one of basic mending. A pulse of blue struck the model, and the cracked wood began to reseal itself and smooth the surface. After a quick flash, my brother was revealed to be whole once again.

My hooves ran along every velvet-lined surface, ensuring not a single piece was missing. “You're ok. You're ok. Everything's ok,” I murmured.

I gingerly placed him back on the ground, “I’m sorry, Pike. I lost my temper.” My head dropped until I was staring dejectedly at the floor. “Everything has just been so perfect, why is this happening now? I don’t… I don’t want to be this pony again, but what else can I do? Why don’t they understand?” Tears stung at the corner of my eye, “Please, help me.”

Of course the mannequin said nothing.

“You’re right,” I sighed, interpreting the non-response. “There’s no point sitting around and crying about it. I have to handle this.”

Y’know, if you were looking for a homicidal pep-talk, you could have just asked.

A subtle shimmer in the air accompanied Koe’s appearance. The doppelganger had grown alongside myself, now standing as a tall, though fairly malnourished looking, stallion. From my recollections, I was perhaps just a hair shorter than my father had been. My mane had grown long and wild, now hanging level with my shoulders. We were both clad in the same blue and yellow jumpsuit that were, for whatever reason, required to be worn by many of the Stable’s automated systems. The only area where the voice and I differed was him retaining both eyes.

I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose.

I didn’t even glance at the shade, merely striding back toward the desk and yanking open the top drawer.

Koe sighed, Don’t you find it a bit ironic that your only psychotic delusion that actually talks back is the only one you’re ignoring? He faded away for a moment before reappearing atop the desk, laying prostrate and propping up his head in both hooves, Oh come on. What do I need to do to compete with a fucking mannequin, huh? Dance a jig? He swiftly rose off the ground and stood on his hind legs, crossed his forelegs, and began kicking rhythmically. Hech, hech, hech, he chanted throatily.

I kept my eyes on the task, removing a nearly-pristine 10mm sidearm and a box of bullets. The magazine dropped from the weapon with a soft click, and I began feeding it cartridges. A pair of pitch-black goggles also floated from the confines of the drawer, settling around the top of my head

How’s about a Goddess-damned limerick?! Koe asked in exasperation.

There once was a young stallion trapped deep underground
To his best friend of all time he made not a sound
He was dumb as a brick
Also kind of a dick
And one day he’ll die with not a pal left around

I finished loading the magazine and slammed it back home. “Pike,” I called, “keep a watch over the security feed and let me know where they’re going.” I worked the pistol’s slide, chambering a round. “This ends now.”

Oh we are so far from the end, Koe sneered venomously. This is just the start of the second act.

Right outside the Overmare’s office stood a smaller desk that held the Stable Administration terminal. I shut my eyes and breathed a preparatory sigh, then pressed several keys to bring the contraption to life. Its muted green display flooded the darkened room, triggering a flash of annoyance.

I couldn’t quite explain my aversion to these things. I knew it wasn’t rational, they were just tools like anything else. But something about a simulated intelligence just rubbed me the wrong way.

‘Good Morning, Administrator,’ the screen displayed. ‘Would you like to create your first diary entry? Stable-tec’s team of expert behavioral psychologists all agree that recording your experiences in the Stable is vital to your mental well-being and…’

I began rapidly clicking through the welcoming message. These machine’s constant yearning for my thoughts and communications was partly what fed my aversion to them. At the very least, however, I could draw a bit of humor from their promises of ‘helping my mental well-being.’

At this point, I was probably a couple steps beyond their abilities.

Several tentative key presses guided the interface toward the Stable’s primary power systems. I clicked through the options and found: ‘Protocol X Emergency Shutdown.’

Upon confirming my selection, a dialogue appeared:

‘Warning: Activation of Protocol X is only recommended as a last resort power conservation method or for fulfilling duties pertaining to the prime directive. Interior and emergency lighting systems, as well as all but critical life support systems, will be disabled. Eraser Deployment System (EDS) will remain functional per prime directive. Do you wish to continue?’

I cocked my head as I had the last time this protocol was activated. Most of it made sense, but in all my time in this self-imposed prison I’d never come across the Eraser Deployment System. It had something to do with this ‘prime directive’ that I vaguely remembered being mentioned when I’d first gained access to the Stable. None of the welcoming documentation I’d had the opportunity to read had any mention of it. Alas, it would have to be a worry for another time. I tapped the confirmation key.

A shrill alarm sounded from the PA system before the automated message took over, ‘Protocol X emergency shutdown initiated. All Stable residents are advised to return to their quarters until power is restored.’

A jolting rumble echoed through the steel halls. The power generators soon grew quiet, withdrawing the continuous hum I’d grown to know so well. A shriek tore through the Stable as the entrance was pulled shut and locked down. The lights above flickered for a moment, then winked out.

Ah, memories, Koe commented.

I continued in my neglect of the voice, instead lowering the goggles over my eyes and flicking the activation switch. Instantly the room sprang back into light, although now shrouded in a cloak of green. The night vision goggles took a moment to adjust, before offering a near perfect image of my surroundings.

“Let’s get this over with,” I murmured, then strode off toward the Stable’s entrance.

The halls echoed with muted scuffs as I crept along the steel floors. The Stable was usually so comfortingly quiet, I could just sit and bask in it for hours on end. Lazing about in the welcoming isolation, practicing my magic with no fear of interruption, and plucking a book from a nigh infinite catalogue of topics and genres. It had all been so perfect.

I couldn’t help but gaze protectively at every bookshelf I passed, running my eyes across every neatly stored volume. Each wing housed the collection that most accurately pertained to its function. Medicine journals in the medical bay, cook books in the kitchen, self-help and leadership training in the Overmare’s office, magical tomes for training the magically gifted, and, of course, a treasure trove of fiction. Every last corner of the facility was packed with literature.

I knew exactly how imperative they had all been to the survival of my sanity. These books were the reason this had to be done. If I lost them, there would be nothing to occupy my mind, and nothing standing in the way of… him unleashing us on the wasteland. So many would die if I let that happen.

What were a hoofful of lives in comparison?

What a noble sacrifice. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Justify it however you want. We both know that, after yesterday, you can’t wait to get your hooves dirty again.

As I rounded a corner, I vaguely made out three figures at the far end of the hallway. Instantly I halted, falling to my stomach and peering through the green vale. They remained still, causing me to worry that I’d been spotted. Soon enough, my memory locked onto the identities of the ponies, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief.

I stood back up and continued down the hallway until I was face to face with the charcoal stallion and his two younger brothers. “Didn’t you hear the announcement!” I snapped quietly. “It’s not safe out here right now. I know you want to help out more, but Pike and I have security well enough in-hoof.” I placed my hoof on the head of one of the smaller ponies, “You need to focus on keeping your brothers safe. They need you a lot more than I do Trim.”

The black-painted mannequin remained still, frustratingly resistant to my commands. “Don’t do this now,” I whispered. “We’ve had our differences in the past, and I know you want to make it up to me. If that’s really your goal, then you can help by keeping Patchwork and Spring Breeze out of harm’s way. Please, Trim, just go back to your quarters. I promise that I’ll come see all of you when this is over.”

I took his fresh batch of silence as acquiescence. “Good,” I said, relieved at the answer. As I trotted past the band of brothers, I shot one more look over my shoulder. “And hey, maybe when this is done we can have that rematch,” I laughed softly.

“Chalk up your pool stick, because I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

It wasn’t long before a hushed conversation began to echo through the halls. I stopped and listened a moment, trying to discern exactly where this lot may have been heading. The armory? The atrium? What would be most valuable to a group of scavengers who’d recently discovered the eviscerated remains of their predecessors?

After observing the direction of the echoing whispers, it came to me. The medbay, of course. They must be trying to save that mare. A shuddering realization coursed down my spine. Did that mean she was still alive?

Eh, quick bullet through the skull, or gravity-dictated impalement that just so happened to be angled to miss every major organ. Potato, potahto, am I right?

The clash between those scavengers and myself was cloudy. I could only recall flashes, disjointed images of violence and pain. My awareness only returning after I was already walking out of the entrance hall, that mares tortured pleas for mercy fading into the background.

I set off once more, taking a more hidden, yet direct route to the medbay. A burst of magic removed a ventilation cover on the wall to my right, and I climbed inside. It was far more cramped than I remembered it being just a few years ago. Stupid growing body. What good did it do me?

The night vision goggles illuminated my path, a rectangular shaft of steel that wound its way through every room and corridor of the Stable. After adjusting to my new size, I was able to capably navigate the junctions toward my goal. Just before arriving, I got my first real look at the group of intruders through the grate below me.

There were five in all. The one in front was an elderly-looking stallion that vaguely reminded me of the mare from yesterday. Family maybe? He was leading the group with steely determination. Although it was fairly undermined when he walked face-first into a wall.

Oh come on, this was almost too easy.

“Goddess-dammit,” he snarled, rubbing a hoof across his bruised muzzle. “First we get sealed in here, and now we can’t even fuckin’ see. Can’t you do anythin’ ‘bout this blackout, Cracks?”

A unicorn mare to his right shook her head as she ashed her cigarette. The ember sent a small, blinding light through my goggles. “Not from here. Protocol X is uniquely encrypted for each Stable and overrides the permissions of every terminal on the network. It can only be undone through the Overmare’s personal terminal if I don’t have a couple days to work it out. We wanna take a detour over thataway, I can get the lights back on.”

“No time,” the older stallion grumbled. “We there yet?”

“Should be just around this corner,” Cracks, apparently, responded. “Why don’t you just bust out your lantern if you can’t see? You ain’t a whole lot of good to me or Tumbler if you fall down a staircase, old man.”

“If we can’t see, then neither can whatever did that to her,” he answered. “I ain’t about to go and give away our position, right now we’s on equal footin’.”

The mare sighed, “Whatever, Whiskey.”

“So,” a second stallion piped in, “any o’ y’all know what’s up with all these creepy mannequins we keep findin’?”

“What? You scared of a couple dolls, Crosshair?” Cracks asked tauntingly.

“Keep up the attitude, Cracks. See what happens,” Crosshair, I guess, seethed.

“Ooo, I’m shaking in my boots,” she said sarcastically.

“Stuff it, the both o’ ya,” Whiskey snapped. “Ah’ve seen this a couple o’ times before. Lock a pony up long enough, they bound to work a couple screws loose. If this thing is already loony ‘nuff to do all this, means we got to keep on guard.”

I crawled the final few meters toward the medical bay and peered down through the vents. Several examination tables were lined up along the opposite wall, with tall, round lamps hanging above each one. A long series of shelves housed a wide array of antiseptics, bandages, and instruments. There was even a sub-room that housed an entire surgical theatre.

However, what lay beneath me now was almost certainly the scavengers’ goal. The wall directly below supported an enormous, steel cylinder. A small observation window was mounted on the sliding door, and a long panel ran across its length, housing an amalgamation of various controls. It was the very machine that had healed me upon first arriving in Stable 42.

The Auto-Doc.

All was quiet for the moment, so I unhinged the panel and carefully let it fall. Similarly, I lowered myself from the ceiling. I took a quick scan of the room, and came face to face with another pony.

A silent scream escaped me before recognition of the figure dawned. Though they were colored in the same light green as the rest of my vision, it was obvious who they were. I took a calming breath, “What are you doing here? The nursery’s on the other side of the Stable. Who’s watching the foals?” I put a reassuring hoof on the pony’s shoulder. “It’s not safe here, Grandma.”

The light blue mannequin tilted slightly in its stand, but said nothing more.

“Oh,” I said. “I completely forgot Syringe wants you coming in for weekly checkups. How does a unicorn even get feather flu?” I shook my head, “Couldn’t have been on a worse day.” I lifted the mannequin, laid it gently on its side, and pushed her under the counter. “Try to keep your head down. It’s…” I hesitated, “it’s going to get pretty loud in here.”

The mannequin’s indented eye stared up at me.

“No,” I snapped, spinning away. “I don’t need to hear it. It’s either them or us, there’s no other way.” Another thought occurred to me as I spared a glance at Tender Heart, a small grin appearing on my face, “Besides, it’s not like they’ll be gone forever. When I can learn to forgive them for what they've done to me, they can rejoin us one day.”

I stared intently at the figure, the growing guilt shrinking before my justification, “Just like you. Just like everypony else in our family.”

Time Enough At Last

The solution to every problem isn’t throwing freaking acid on it.

Six Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

I could hear the scavengers fumbling outside the door, doubtlessly looking for a way inside the medbay. A muffled conversation was just barely audible through the thick steel plate. “Anythin’ you can do ‘bout gettin’ this open, Cracks?” the older stallion, asked.

“Not without power,” the mare from before answered.

“Well we definitely don’t have enough explosives to punch through, so I guess that means you’re up, Riveter. Cut this thing open.”

“Can do, boss,” a new stallion answered. What were they planning?

Regardless, I needed a strategy. There were twelve shots in the pistol as well as two extra magazines. Of course I still had the element of surprise, and several of these ponies already seemed pretty shaken. By my count, I could take out at least two of them before they even realized what was happening. After that…

Fillies and gentlecolts, I have the incredible honor of introducing the master strategist Dipshit the Enduring. How has he survived for so long with this obvious retardation? Who the fuck knows?! But you can bet he’s gonna put on one hell of a show!

A burst of light suddenly erupted from the darkness, translating to a blinding flash through my night vision goggles. I yelped in pain, shielded my eyes and removed the specs. Spots of white danced across my vision as I blearily rubbed them away. When silhouettes began to re-emerge from the void, I spared a wary glance back toward the door.

A rain of sparks was dripping from between the sliding steel panels. Molten metal trailed down and pooled against the floor, the acrid smell of ozone began to infuse the air. They were cutting their way through.

“Shit,” I swore quietly before once more donning my goggles. Whilst cautiously avoiding a direct gaze at the light show, I started to reevaluate my plan. The cutting torch would certainly open the way, but it would be slow going for the intruders.

Even then, without power, the Auto-Doc they were obviously seeking would be nearly useless. It was designed to only preserve the life of a patient in the event of a power outage, but would certainly not be capable of starting a new procedure. Couple that with how quickly they’d made it here, and it was almost a certainty that they weren’t attempting to use it now. They were just working to clear the way before bringing in the impaled mare. That gave me some time.

I steadied my breathing and mentally laid out my repertoire of spells.

Seven years. Seven long, lonely years I’d spent in this prison. While all of my physical needs were more than cared for, the psychological toll that had raked across me had not passed without inflicting harm. The deep yearning for companionship had scarred me far more than any conflict I’d been forced to endure. Even my days fighting in the Pit had involved contact… of a sort.

The other residents I’d invited into the Stable had done little to alleviate that aching in my heart, but at this point even the flimsiest strands were necessary to anchor the final remnants of my sanity. Everything I’d ever read on the subject informed that an Equestrian’s need for love and friendship were nearly tantamount to that of food and water.

I didn’t know how long I could last in this state, but the books were the only thing that had made it bearable. From that very first moment of arrival, I’d never allowed myself to be without some kind of book for more than a few hours at a time. Even a full night’s sleep was impossible without being broken up by a few sessions of reading. He tried at every turn to distract me, but I had always managed to will my way through. The quiet moments of absorbing the wide array of texts were the only times that had drowned him out, kept my mind from dwelling on the oppressive mountain of sin that was my burden to bear.

Now it seemed to have all worked out in my favor. Science fiction, mysteries, chemistry, memoirs, and history. This entire library was mine, with little else to distract me from their wonders. I could almost perfectly recite the entirety of the Daring Do series, word for word, from memory. Not due to any eidetic capability, but merely from the repetition of devouring my most cherished books.

And the one subject that had enticed me far more than all others had been spellbooks. The Complete Compendium of Starswirl The Bearded’s Most Eclectic Enchantments, Divining the Aetheric Plane with Mistmane, Arcana Spanning the Millennia by Princess Celestia herself. Days, weeks, months, and years spent studying the mysteries contained within, and what better way to bridge the times between books was there than practicing the lessons they taught? Although I’d previously held no desire to use them in any manner but to distract myself from the horrors of reality.

Until now that is.

A few moments of meditation brought forth a simple, yet elegant, solution to my current predicament. With a slight modification to a spell intended for little more than a harmless prank, I could show the entire wasteland the repercussions for intruding on my sanctum.

And this time the targets might even survive.

My horn began to glow and spark with a brilliant font of aetheric energy. The warmth spread across my forehead and danced across my skin. An intoxicating current of magic electrified my every nerve as I directed my horn toward the heart of the medbay.

“Laruarius… captionem,” I whispered. The old ponish phrase tumbled from my mouth as if the words themselves had grown some physicality. The floor immediately in front of the door instantly shimmered with an astoundingly intricate rune. The magical glyph began to spiderweb across the entire space, looking as if the room was about to shatter under the power flowing from my horn. Then, just as the light reached a blinding intensity, it snuffed out, leaving no trace of the enchantment now humming within the steel walls.

A glance back toward the door showed the scavengers had nearly cut through. I smiled slightly, it was finally time to see just how far my skills had come.

I spared a glance back toward Tender Heart as she lay on her side beneath the counter. “Stay out of sight,” I warned her. “This will all be over soon.” I shimmied my way back inside the air vent and peered cautiously over the edge.

Just in the nick of time as a clattering of metal marked the locks on the Medbay door crashing to the ground.

“Fuckin’ finally,” I heard the older stallion swear. “Riveter, help me pull this thing open. The rest of ya, cover the door.”

A groaning shriek of metal rang out as the sliding, steel door resisted the effort, but eventually acquiesced to the intruders’ demands. A chorus of guns cocking followed as the others took aim inside.

“Anythin’?” Whiskey asked.

“Not a damn thing,” Cracks answered.

There was a moment of silence, “I don’t like this. What in the fuck is thing waitin’ for?”

“Pfft,” a younger stallion scoffed. “Probably sent that cowardly lil’ shit runnin’. Move aside ya pansies.”

The rifle-wielding scavenger stepped into view, shoving past the others and over the threshold.

“Crosshair wait!” somepony cried, but it was too late. The moment Crosshair’s hoof stepped inside the medbay, a subtle blue snaked across the floor as my enchantment was tripped.

Geeet…. ouuut, a growling tone whispered. I grinned wider as the poltergeist spell was unleashed.

Well stick a pumpkin up my ass and call me spooky. You actually did it, he commented.

“Who’s there!” the stallion shouted, unholstering his rifle and spinning about. “Show yourself!”

A cabinet of beakers on the far side of the room began to rumble and shake, the tinkling glass echoing in a haunting ring.

Geeet… Ouuut! the growling repeated, now almost a roar. The cabinet slammed open as one of the beakers fired across the room and crashed right in front of Crosshair’s hooves.

The stallion cried out, “What the fuck!”

GEEET… OUUUT! the voice screamed as a shrieking wail tore through the room. The remaining contents of the cabinet shot out in every direction, several smashing across the panicking scavenger. The resulting shards sailed into the air before instantly redirecting back downward and firing into Crosshair’s skin like a barrage of tiny daggers. He yelped in pain and shielded his face from the onslaught.

Dozens of instruments all across the room began flying about in a gale of broken glass and sharp metal. Bone saws buzzed through the air, scalpels lodged in walls and flesh alike. A glass vial of some clear liquid crashed into the terrified stallion, shattering across his muzzle and drenching him.

The open wounds across his flesh began to sizzle and foam, trailing chemical fumes into the air. A piercing shriek erupted from the stallion as he began to thrash across the floor. “Help me!” he cried. “Please!”

“Cracks! North Star!” Whiskey cried. “Get ‘im the fuck outta there!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a big N O from me boss,” Cracks replied worriedly, her widened eyes locked onto the display. “Dealing with ghosts is pretty fucking far out of my pay grade.”

“You chicken shit coward!” he snapped back, then turned to look at the second mare. “Come on, we gotta help ‘im.”

“Right, boss,” she stated obediently. The two ponies fell to the ground and began inching their way toward Crosshair.

Alright, that’s probably enough for the opening act, I thought. I sealed my eyes and brought up the enchantment in my mind. They always appeared to me like some fine spiderweb, their individual strands strung across the space and interwebbing with each layer the spell required to enact itself. Several strands dictating the sound and pitch of the voice, where it would emanate from, how it would echo. More still strung across every loose item in the room, ready to fling them through the air when dictated to do so.

The threads fueling the spell began to unravel as I gently tugged upon each line, tendrils of aetheric energy spiralling away as the power was cut. Just as the spell was almost completely dismantled, the threads instantly resealed themselves.

I jerked back, completely caught off guard by the enchantment’s defiance. Once again I peered into the aether before witnessing gilded reinforcements clamp down around each thread.

Heeeeey everypony, he started singing, let’s have some fun.

“No no no no no no,” I whispered panickedly. This wasn’t happening, I’d been so careful. Did he really still have this much control?

More vials of disinfectant sailed into the air, these crashing against the mare trying to get to Crosshair. She sputtered and spat out the acrid liquid, looking a bit confused at her treatment by the ‘ghost’. A pair of Bunsen burners slowly emerged from their cabinets, their igniters clicking, until a shower of sparks preceded two brilliant, blue flames illuminating the darkened space.

You only live but once, and when you’re dead you’re done.

Whiskey looked at the burners, then back to his soaked companions as he put together what was happening. “North! Crosshair! Get the fuck outta here right n-”

Too late. The burners fell, and there was suddenly quite a bit more light in the darkened space. The disinfectant ignited instantly, completely engulfing the pair in a chemically fueled, purple-tipped curtain of flame.

So let the good times roll.

The mare was the first to react, crying out just as the flames began to consume her. Crosshair seemed preoccupied with what he’d already sustained, but his focus swiftly turned as well. Their wails sputtered at first, as if they were not quite able to accept what was happening. But reality has an annoying way of making itself known, and their tortured shrieks soon mirrored it.

Whiskey managed to jump back before the inferno consumed him as well. Crosshair and the mare were soon nothing more than silhouettes within the blaze, thrashing and rolling across the ground, desperately trying to smother the flames. The screams the pair unleashed pierced the soul like an icicle. Burnt mane and roasting flesh soon dominated the air and the smoke trailed right up into my vent. I coughed and sputtered against the vile fumes, but I knew this smell would never leave me.

“What… *cough* *cough*... did you do?” I rasped.

Well it’s about Goddess-damned time, Koe said exasperatedly. We’ve been down here how long? We haven’t even shared our jerkin’ it schedules. I was actually starting to think we weren’t friends anymore, but that would be silly.

“You piece of shit,” I growled.

Apology accepted, and I hope we can move past this. B T Dubs, I’m kind of a whenever the feeling strikes me sort of guy. You’re not looking at nearly enough porn, but sometimes that Daring Do describes how she’s tied up in just such a way that… mmm. You know what I’m talking about.

“SHUT UP!” I screamed. My attention locked onto the enchantment again before I took the magical equivalent to a sledgehammer against the spiderweb. The strands shattered apart in a violent shower of sparks. Lances of magical energy danced across the space as I battered the spell to pieces. It was basically the difference between turning off a light switch and smashing the bulb with a rock. Same effect, one was just a little less elegant, and a lot more noticeable.

The poltergeist spell instantly fell to pieces. Flying instruments clattered to the floor, the disembodied voice disappeared, and only the dying wheezes of the torched ponies remained until the room fell totally silent.

Aw, party pooper, Koe lamented.

“Fuck you!” I shouted. “Why?! Why do you always do this to me?!”

Uh, chief.

“Everything was fine!” I continued, ignoring the voice. “I was just going to scare them off, instead you just dragged me right back down into this pit of shit!”

Venture…

“Enough! I’m so fucking tired of you! I don’t care what it takes now, I’m ending this! Do you hear me?! I’m finally putting that fucking bullet right through-”

You might not have to worry about that, Koe interrupted.

“What are you-” I began to growl, then stopped. I slowly turned my gaze back down through the vent, only to find Whiskey and his companions glaring right up toward me. The stallion’s face was locked in seething hatred, his breath gushing between his clenched teeth. He was only illuminated by the dying embers dancing across the remains of the two burned ponies, and as they slowly started to fade, we were plunged back into darkness.

So I’m just gonna let this next part speak for itself.

“He’s in the vents!” Whiskey shouted. “Kill that son of a bitch!”

The three remaining scavengers all turned their guns upward and unloaded. Whiskey’s shotgun blew the vent cover right off its hinges. I lurched backward, just as the heavy thumps of a revolver began peppering the thin metal with holes. Something automatic joined the fray, carving chunks out of the vent as it trailed toward me.

I scrambled against the smooth surface, desperately backpedaling away from the medbay. I yanked the 10mm from its holster and blindly fired back, hoping against all odds to pull off a lucky shot.

There was one, but it wasn’t mine.

A scorching pain lanced through my rear leg as a bullet struck home. It passed through the skin, accompanied by a spray of blood that coated the interior of the vent.

“Goddess-dammit,” I swore, clutching at the wound while still trying to shuffle away. The telltale click-click-click of a dry magazine followed my panicked barrage. “Fuck, fuckity, fucking, fuck!”

Your newfound vocabulary is truly a sight to behold.

I holstered the pistol and kept crawling, ignoring the lancing pain shooting up my leg. The gunfire soon ceased as I finally pulled myself safety. I collapsed against the cool steel, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. The distant voices of the scavengers soon echoed through the vents.

“Hold your fire, he’s gone,” Whiskey snarled irritably.

“So, what now?” Cracks asked.

“It’s still three on one, four countin’ the doc,” the stallion answered. “We are goin’ to find this piece of shit, skin ‘im alive, and then I am makin’ myself a new pair of Goddess-damned, psychopath leather boots!”

“Good to hear you’ve thought this through,” she jibed.

“Follow the vents,” he spat back. “We’ll find ‘im soon enough.”

So what brilliant stratagem are we thinking up now, mon capitan?

“Did they say, doc?” I asked, clenching my teeth as I tried to put pressure on the wound. “As in, doctor?”

Looking for somepony to patch that hole? In case you’ve forgotten, this is yet another member of the band of merry marauders looking to turn you into a set of discount hoofwear.

“As in somepony they probably left behind to tend to our little scarecrow,” I continued. “Somepony a bit less combat-focused.”

Hmmm?

“Somepony alone,” I clarified.

I like where this is going, the voice said gleefully. See? I knew my boy was still in there.

“I’m not your boy, and I’m not your friend,” I growled. “When they’re gone, we’re right back we started. You don’t get to exist in my world.”

Aw, come on. Isn’t this getting kinda-

“Shut the fuck up, Koe!”

Time was against me.

I limped down the corridor toward the Stable’s entrance, a trail of crimson following close behind. A sloppy layer of magical bandages was wrapped around my leg, the bleeding having already saturated through the material. The single medical box along my route had only contained them and a syringe of Med-X. I’d left the painkiller behind, I needed to stay sharp.

Pfft, sobriety, Koe scoffed.

“I don’t need it,” I grumbled.

Now where have I heard that one before? the voice said whimsically. Come on, you’re only addicted to Rage, reading, bitching, and murder, not painkillers. What’s the worst that could happen?

“I fly into a blind rage and kill this doctor instead of taking them hostage like I planned,” I offered.

Eh, I can think of worse. Like having to face the realities of existence sober. Blech, no thanks.

We continued on. Navigating the winding maze of steel corridors had become second nature to me. Every so often we’d come across another resident of the Stable, and I’d quickly escort them from the halls and back to their rooms.

“Keep the kids safe, Lemon,” I said reassuringly to the yellow-painted mannequin. I led her around a corner and into the nursery with several others.

This is just getting sad.

“They’ve done more for me down here than you ever have,” I quipped. “How’s that for sad?”

Ow, my feelings, he moaned mockingly.

Occasionally I would hear the distant scuffling of our pursuers and be forced into one of the vents. The darkness and my night vision goggles barely saved me time and time again. They interrupted our journey a frustrating amount of times, enough that I began to feel some cruel god was toying with me. Maybe this was my comeuppance, that I’d run from my punishment long enough and it was time the price was paid for the lives I’d taken. On one such occasion, peering down the hallway toward the scavengers, I pondered just how easy it would be to step into view and finally let it end. But something kept stopping me, be it either Koe or my own undeserved cowardice I couldn’t be sure, but I knew I didn’t want to die. This was the only way.

Soon after, we reached the entrance hall.

I peeked around the corner, trying to assess the situation. The impaled mare was right where I’d left her, flanked by the decapitated heads of her friends. Flashes of the encounter ripped through my memory. Surprising the group, knocking out the mare, having her fade back into consciousness and meeting her gaze as I sawed through the necks of her companions. Drenched in blood and never wavering as I dropped her paralyzed form onto the spike. She screamed so pitifully for mercy.

I felt a pang in my chest, but shook the feeling off. There wasn’t time for remorse, later, but not now.

A second pony stepped into view. I couldn’t get a good look at them, but it must have been the doctor.

“I spy with my little eye,” she was saying, “something red… oh maybe not. Uh, how about I spy with my little eye-”

“Please… stop… helping.” the impaled mare whimpered.

“This is literally my only job!” the doctor whined. “I swear, I can do better. How about… ooo! I know, we don’t even need to see for this one!” She rummaged a bit in her saddlebags before withdrawing some kind of canteen. “I’ve got whiskey,” she sang enticingly. “How about we say the names of provinces in Equestria, and if we can’t think of one, we take a shot?”

The impaled mare perked up a bit, “Can I… start?”

“Sure… wait,” the doctor said seriously, pulling back the flask. “Will that mess with your painkiller? Are you even supposed to drink when you’re bleeding out? I’ve gotta think about-”

“Just give me…” the other mare hissed, “the Goddess-damned… whiskey!”

The doctor sighed, “Well it’s not like it could do that that much harm.” She unscrewed the cap and titled it back for the dying mare, then took a shot herself. “Ok, Cloudsdale, now you.”

“Mare... jave,” the impaled mare gasped.

“Appleoosa.”

“P-pass.”

“Ooo, you gotta take a shot,” the doctor said before giving more to the mare. “Now me, um… Ponyville.”

“P-pass.”

“Hey, are you taking this seriously?” she asked suspiciously. “It seems like you’re failing on purpose.”

“Don’t know… ‘lotta places… only lived… out here.”

“What? You never learned about geography in schoo- oh, right,” the doctor sputtered awkwardly. “How about we just drink?”

“Best idea… you’ve had.”

Damn, Koe commented. That’s my kinda doctor.

While the two traded shots from the flask, I started to creep into the room. The doctor started regaling the mare with some story, but I tuned them out. I focused on getting up behind her. When I was fully out of sight, I stalked closer. I climbed up onto the metal platform she sat upon and began to prepare the knockout spell. The glow from my horn cast a bit of light, and the impaled mare locked her gaze onto me.

“Mmmph,” she groaned panickedly, her eyes growing wide as she started to flail. The alcohol and loss of blood was obviously impairing her speech.

“... and then I said ‘oatmeal are you cra-’... hey,” the doctor said worriedly, “you’s okie kay?” I guess she was a bit of lightweight. Made my job that much easier.

She stumbled to her hooves and walked up to the mare, trying to calm her, “Heys now, ‘ts all gonna be fine. I’m righ’ here, and duh udders are pr’bly on their way righ’ now wit’ dat bastard’s head on a spi-” she slapped her head and giggled a bit. “Oh fuck, I did it again.”

“B-be... behi… behind,” the impaled mare gasped.

“B-beyind?” she slurred, then laughed again and slapped her flank. “Oh, why thank y’ for noticin’. I think it looks purrty good t-” she trailed off, the other mare’s words starting to register. Shakily, she turned her head back and finally spotted me. Her eyes snapped open as she began to hyperventilate. “H-h-h-b-b-y-y-”

“Hello there,” I growled sinisterly, then unleashed the spell. A flash of light briefly illuminated the space as a bolt of magic slammed into the doctor’s head. She stumbled a bit, then slumped to the floor unconscious.

A terrified series of gasps escaped the impaled mare. I guess she wanted to scream.

“I’m not here for you just yet,” I sneered before plucking the doctor up in my magic, turning my back on her, and making my way back inside the Stable.

“Please,” she whimpered quietly.

I paused, sparing a look back at her. The light from my levitation spell bathed the room in a dim, blue light. I could just barely make out the girl’s pained, pleading look.

“Don’t go… please… kill me.”

I sighed, “Is that really what you want? Your friends might still beat me, get you fixed up. I know it hurts right now, but death is just so… final. The end. Life is so full of possibilities, even for you. Who knows what’ll happen in the next few hours? Would it be kinder to kill you, or give you a chance at-”

“Spare me…” she gasped angrily, “your fuckin’... philosophy lesson.” She turned her head away, a few shimmering tears trailing down her face, “You’ll kill them all… we both… know that. I just don’t… wanna hurt… anymore.” She faced me again, “So just… fuckin’ do it.”

“But I-”

“YOU DON’T GET…” she screamed, coughing and sputtering with the last remnants of her strength. “TO FEEL SORRY… FOR ME!”

I looked at the floor, “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this.” I walked back toward her, surrounding her neck in my magic.

Her head jerked sharply, a loud snap echoing through the air. A gasp escaped her lungs before her body fell limp.

“This is what’s best for everyone.”

How Does That Make You Feel

He’s so forgiving and pure of heart it makes me want to vomit

Six Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

Ow, my head.

It felt like an icepick was being driven through my forehead with all the care of a sledgehammer through a wall of toilet paper. Wait, what am I yammering about? Spongy bright lights flashing in front of my ocular bulbs are hurting my thinking box. What a dink? Dink? No, drink? Yes, drink. A lotta drinks? Yes. Medical necessity. Maybe prescribe a higher dose next time, might help the old thinker tinker right now-a-wow.

I’m such a good fucking doctor.

No, no, no, thinking time now. Gotta think clear, clear as whiskey. Wait, is whiskey clear? Kind of, sort of clearish amber with a small hint of... no Goddess-dammit we’re getting off track again, gotta think. Where am I?

It would probably help if my eyes were open. Ok, right eye first. I felt the lid peel over my eyeball like the skin off an orange… with similar sounds to accompany it. The world was still mostly dark, but a dim, green light was coming from somewhere else in the room. Now the left. Similar results finally gave the scene some depth, and I guess I was laying on the ceiling.

Wait, that can’t be right. But the floor was so far away. I mean, I do have wings, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten me into a harrowing situation after a night of drinking. Especially that one Nightmare Night when all my friends and I dressed up as bats and tried to outdo each other’s impersonations. I wrapped my tail around the top of that flagpole and hung upside down while we all passed out. That was a less than fun way to wake up.

Fucking shit, why is it so hard for me to concentrate? Obviously I’m just looking at the ceiling, I’m lying on my back.

The pieces of my concentration steadily fell back into place, the train of thoughts finally getting back on schedule. How much did I have to drink? The last thing I remember was trying to comfort Tumbler, then we both started in on that flask Cracks gave me before we left and then-

Tumbler.

My eyes finally shot open as I tried to stand and… why couldn’t I stand? I struggled and shimmied, but my limbs all remained still. I then became acutely aware of the binding chains lashed around my body.

Oh fuck! I started to hyperventilate, but realized I was only breathing through my nose. A gag, really? A muffled scream was all I could manage around the ball of cloth so unceremoniously shoved into my muzzle. My breathing turned to short bursts as I futilely continued to struggle against the restraints, but still nothing. My heart jackhammered against my chest, threatening to burst free from the fleshy prison.

Calm down. Panicking wasn’t going to help me now, I needed a plan. First, find out where I am. Second, find a way to escape. The rest could wait until later. I was at least still able to turn my head, and I slowly tried to take stock of my surroundings. I definitely wasn’t in the entrance hall anymore. No, this new room looked quite a bit more like an office. The material under my back and on my left were fairly plush. Maybe a couch? There was a circular desk in the center of the room with a terminal perched atop it. That was where the green light was coming from, and it was illuminating the outline of a pony.

I couldn’t help it, I shrieked once again into the cloth. The figure turned toward me, finally catching sight of my struggling.

“S-so I guess you’re awake?” a stallion’s voice asked timidly. His voice sounded ragged, a dead ringer for the one that had greeted us from the intercom when we first arrived. But while he was definitely an adult, or at least close to it, there was a bit of childishness to his tone. Like a young colt that had just been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar. The stallion pushed back from the desk and cautiously walked toward me.

Although the lights were dim, I was still able to make out some of his features. He was fairly tall, but skinnier than almost any pony I’d ever seen. The dark grey of his coat was visible beneath the grimy, blue and yellow jumpsuit he was sporting. His deep blue mane hung long and clumpy, like he hadn’t washed it since the last time he’d had a decent meal. His bloodshot left eye continually averted away from me, almost as if he were terrified of making eye contact. The right one was shut or… wait. A long scar ran along his right temple, starting at the eye and tapering off near the back of his skull. I sucked in a breath when I realized it was gone.

“H-hello, miss. A-are you comfortable… you know, all things considered?” he continued, a look of concern passing over his face and an unusual amount worry in his tone. “I really don’t want to knock you out again, that spell I used isn’t good for the brain. But it’s gonna be pretty boring until your friends get here and…” he trailed off. His hoof suddenly shot up and smacked into his face. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t care about any of this. I’ve just never really had to entertain any guests before and-” he stopped again.

He turned to the side, his concerned expression morphing into one of frustration, “Yes I know you’ve been here, but I don’t count you.” His previous timidness instantly shifted into anger, almost hatred. There was another pause, “Because I despise you, that’s why.” Pause. “I don’t give a damn about your feelings. Now please, I’m trying to talk to her.”

What the fuck?

He turned back toward me, “Sorry again. I’m kinda new to the whole ‘hostage taking’ thing, and I’m probably screwing it up.” His mouth morphed into what was probably an attempt at a smile, but came off as a toothy sneer, “M-my name’s Venture, Venture Forth. What’s yours?”

“Mmph?” I mumbled confusedly.

“Oh, right. The gag… and the chains,” he said sheepishly. A blue glow surrounded the gag and started to pull it down. Was he really letting me answer? Seeing an opportunity, I prepared my lungs. If he needed me as a hostage, then he probably didn’t want me dead, at least not right away. If I could get out one good scream, that might be enough to alert the others.

Just before the cloth cleared my muzzle, he stopped, “Hold on, are you just going to scream as soon as I pull this away? I understand why you’d want to… but I really can’t let you do that.” His expression grew darker, more resolute. He said nothing more, but the atmosphere grew heavy with the promise of what he was willing to do to keep me silent.

I needed to get this gag off, but I’d also had a front row seat to the levels of violence this Venture Forth was capable of. I was briefly reminded that there were many things he could do that didn’t involve killing me. I shuddered as flashes of Tumbler slowly being impaled on that spike played through my thoughts. For now I’d have to play this cool.

“Uh pmfmiss,” I mumbled around the gag, shaking my head and trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Uh won’t scea’.”

Venture breathed a sigh of relief. “Ok then,” he sounded much calmer. “I really am sorry about all this. I didn’t want to hurt anypony, honest. It’s just-” he stopped again, his earlier anger returning in full.

“I told you to stay out of this!” he barked, whipping around and facing the empty space behind him. “Leave, now!” Pause, “She’s tied up, far from her friends, and I’m strong enough to do whatever the hell I want to her if she tries anything.” Another pause. “I DIDN’T FUCKING MEAN THAT!” he shouted suddenly, causing me to jump in alarm. Well maybe not jump. More like wiggle in alarm.

Another pause, “Y-yes, you and I both know I’ve never done… anything like that. I don’t even want to touch another pony, much less… that.” Pause, “NO CHANCE DOESN’T COUNT YOU REPUGNANT FUCK!” Pause, “I don’t care what you think,” Venture seethed, “I would never do to another pony what he did to me. How dare you even think that I’d-”

Pause, “I don’t know, like crush her skull, snap her neck, or… oh.”

He turned back toward me, regret burning in his eyes as if he'd just remembered I was there. I reflexively struggled against the bindings, muffled shrieks escaping my gag. “I’m sorry,” he said panickedly. “I wouldn’t try to kill you unless you gave me a reason to-” he cut himself off and buried his face in his hooves. “I’m not helping, am I?”

I took a few deep breaths, trying to settle my drumline of a heartbeat, “Nuh, ooo rn’t.” Then a thought struck me.

As much as I hated the comparison, I couldn’t help but draw the parallels between our behavior. He sounded almost exactly like I had when I was trying to comfort Tumbler. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and making the whole situation worse in our fluster. Yeesh, maybe that meant I was a little bit of a psychopath.

No, not psychopath. Oddly enough, the analytical part of my brain chose that moment to kick into gear. I was a psychologist, words had meaning. Afflictions had meaning, and they had very clearly defined symptoms. Psychopathy was never the easiest diagnosis to make, but there were at least some very prominent red flags. While everything I knew so far about this pony certainly checked off severely stunted social behavior and a proclivity to violence, these last few minutes certainly didn’t mark him as one lacking empathy.

That marker was perhaps the most important of all. He could be faking it, surely, but what reason would he have to? If all Venture wanted was my compliance, he could certainly play up the emotionless and violent captor. Instead, he was acting like an awkward teenager trying to ask out his high school crush. Bipolar? Possibly. Schizophrenic? Almost certainly if his continual outbursts at somepony I was ninety-percent sure wasn’t there was any indicator. But this short conversation did not mark him as a psychopath to me. What kind of life would this pony have had to live to get to a state like this? To be plagued with mental issues this deep in a place like the Wasteland?

I started to feel almost… sorry for him.

Regardless, a psychopath would be an issue, but him? Him I could work with. This discovery could absolutely play to my advantage.

“Mmph,” I mumbled, meeting his gaze and then glancing at the gag.

“Oh, right,” Venture said, looking relieved at the turn in discourse. His magic surrounded the gag again and gently pulled it out of my mouth. “S-so can we try again?”

I took a few more breaths, closing my eyes and trying to reimagine the situation. I wasn’t tied up and at the mercy of somepony that had just killed… at least four ponies. I was in my office, starting my first session with a new patient. Although, I guess this time I was the one on the couch.

I put on the most comforting smile I could muster, “I’d like that. My name is Crescent Harmony.”

“A-and I’m Venture, Venture Forth,” he responded quickly, smiling slightly at my calm tone. Then his eyes widened, he grit his teeth and slammed his face back into his hooves. “You already said that you moron. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he growled, punctuating every ‘stupid’ with another blow to the face.

“It’s ok,” I responded, keeping up the understanding demeanor, “I know this must be a stressful situation for you. Let’s move past it.”

“And toward what?” he asked, looking back toward me with a suspicious glance. “What are you trying to do?”

“Nothing at all,” I stated simply. “Just for us to move toward what the both of us are going to do to make sure we all make it out of this alive.

“That’s… awfully understanding of you,” he observed, distrust creeping into his tone.

Dammit, I couldn’t lose him now. He might not have been a psychopath, but he was certainly intelligent. Somepony like him had to live completely off of self-preservation, and it was a safe bet he wasn’t a stranger to betrayal. If he even began to suspect I was trying to fool him, this wouldn’t end well for me. Honesty was definitely the best policy right now.

“Look,” I began frankly, “I’m going to level with you. I am terrified right now. Like, scary story in the middle of the night, lightning flash, suddenly headless horse, shitting myself terrified. I’m in a new place, putting my life in the hooves of ponies I barely know, and trying to survive in a way I never had to before. I’ve… I’ve seen what you’re capable of. I don’t want to die, so that means I’ll do whatever I reasonably can to make sure that doesn’t happen. You said you didn’t want to hurt anypony, and I don’t really have any other choice but to believe that. So believe me when I say that I just want to talk this out.”

Venture stared into my eyes, trying to suss out any hint of lying in my statement. I met his gaze, trying to keep my breathing calm and believing in the truth of my words. His pupils shook, as if keeping up the gaze was causing him some physical pain. After a few moments, he turned away, nodding his head in acceptance.

“Ok, Cr-Crescent,” he whispered breathily. “So what is it that you have to say?”

“First things first,” I began coolly. “Let’s talk about what brought us both here today. Get some common ground going.” I took another deep breath, “I was hired as a field doctor by Whiskey Stone, a salvage scavenger operating out of Hoofsprings. A couple days ago his daughter, Tumbler-” he winced when I said her name, but I suppressed any reaction and pressed on “-radioed in to tell us she’d found a Stable and then went quiet. Our group came out here to look for her and her team.”

“And then you found them,” he added dryly.

“Yes,” I answered, allowing no judgement to enter my tone. This really was just like talking to a patient. “So that’s my story, what about yours?”

“None of your business,” he snapped instantly, a bit of anger creeping into his tone. “You don’t need my life’s story. I just need all of you gone, and that will be the end of this. Got it?!”

“Ok,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. “Then let’s just talk about today, and what we need to do to make that happen. I’ve been in the front hall since we got here, so I’m not entirely sure what’s happened since then. If you can tell me, then maybe I can help start some kind of negotiations.”

“Here’s your negotiations,” Venture seethed, “they leave, then you leave, I lock the door, and then you all thank fuck that you didn’t end up with your heads on FUCKING PIKES!” He shouted the final words and shoved his face right up to mine, although, I noticed, not quite close enough to touch. “I just need to be left alone, that’s it! End of Goddess-damned story! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not going to work. Nopony is going to lie to me, nopony is going to trick me, understand?”

“I understand,” I responded, the fear beginning to gnaw at my demeanor was still held at bay through my professionalism. This was just another upset patient, nothing more. “But you have to understand the reality of what’s happening here. Tumbler is hurt, and she needs medical attention right now. We can’t leave until-”

“So why didn’t you save her?” he retorted. “You’re the doctor, right?”

“I’m not… skilled enough to-,” I responded, my voice cracking slightly at the lie, but I stopped. Honesty. I need him to trust me now, “It’s because I’m not a… medical doctor. I lied to Whiskey to get this job and now I’m in way over my head like. A pony he cares about very deeply is dying, and everypony else out there would just as soon shoot you on sight as say a single word. The only way any of us are getting through this is if-”

“You… lied to them?” Venture asked, cutting me off. His anger seemed to be evaporating a bit.

“Yes.”

“But you’re telling me the truth?” he continued.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to trust me and, regardless, what I am doesn’t matter too much if I’m dead,” I said bluntly.

He turned away from me, his shoulders slumping, “It doesn’t matter either way.”

“Why do you say that,” I asked, worry creeping into my tone.

“Because she’s dead,” he stated, sounding regretful once again.

“D-dead?” Oh Goddess no. I should have guessed, but I didn’t want to believe it. What else would he have done after taking me? Say, ‘howdy-do, just gonna knock this pony out and skiddadle. Have a great day?’ “And you…”

“I killed her, yes,” Venture said simply. “She begged me to. I suppose I can’t blame her for wanting it to end.” His head turned toward the floor and a sorrowful chuckle shook him, “If only we could all have somepony so kind and merciful as to put us out of our misery.”

For the first time since I’d awoken, another emotion burned beneath my fear. Fury pressed against my resolve. I wanted to spit venom, fling every ounce of anger onto the vicious pyre of my words. He didn’t deserve my understanding, my kindness. Was I really going to lie to myself and pretend this was the first time he’d done something like this? How many countless others had died at this pony’s hooves? How many innocent lives snuffed out, their deaths dragged on through tortuous hours of agony? I so desperately wanted to be free, regardless of how much harm I could actually inflict. I wanted to hurt him, lash out with everything I had at this… this…

“Monster,” Venture whispered, then turned back toward me. Tears were shimmering in his eye and more still trailed down his cheek, dripping onto the floor. “That’s what you see, isn’t it? A vile, bloodthirsty FUCKING MONSTER!” he cried. A bolt of blue light lanced from his horn and trailed toward the room’s single, circular window. Shattering glass and a piercing, aetheric boom blasted through the space. The intensity of the spell sent an electric surge through the air, tingling across my coat and spreading static through my mane.

A manic, toothy grin spread across his face, but the tears kept coming. Sobs wracked his shoulders while that dark chuckle escaped his throat. “Wh-who could blame you?” he began. “How could anypony see anything else? After everypony I’ve killed, everything I’ve done?!” His chuckle morphed and contorted into full on crazed giggling, starkly contrasted by his continued weeping. “I don’t want this *hehe* I never w-wanted any of this. D-do you know what I wanted to be? I was supposed to be… supposed to be a- a-” He fell to the floor, covering the back of his head with his hooves and continued laughing and sobbing against the steel plate. “I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry. I don’t want to be like this. I just want this nightmare to end.”

Venture’s voice strained to a croak, “Y-you’re even trying to be nice… i-it’s been so long and I… I can’t even…”

Suddenly his head snapped up, and he turned back toward the empty space again. “I told you to shut up!” he screamed. Pause, “I’m n-not a pussy. I’m n-not.” He wiped at his eyes and tried to suppress the sobs. “Just… please…” he squeaked, “... please stop. N-not… not now… p-please.”

Breathe, I told myself, just breathe. He was disturbed… very disturbed. There was no denying that. Regardless of what I felt right now, anger wasn’t going to help anypony. Tumbler was gone, I had to accept that. Everypony else in our group may still be alive, and I had to do everything I could to keep it that way.

And was I really mad at him, or was I mad at myself? Venture had just acted on instinct. Like an abused dog approached too quickly, he’d lashed out and hurt a lot of ponies. In spite of how intelligent he seemed to be, there was something very broken inside of him, and I had to remember that. I was the one who should have known better, that if I hadn’t volunteered for this job, Whiskey could have hired somepony more capable. Somepony who could have treated Tumbler without the Auto-doc, somepony who could have kept her alive. Maybe none of us would have had to set hoof in this stable and…

… and Venture would still be locked away.

Alone.

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” I said delicately.

Venture whipped back toward me, sniffling, “Wh-what?”

Was I… supposed to be here? For him? I was never much of one to believe in fate, but this was all a little too coincidental, too perfect. “I said I don’t think you’re a monster,” I repeated, bringing back the smile.

He scoffed, “Then I’d really hate to see what your definition is. You don’t know me, you don’t know what I’ve done. Trust me, the world would be a much better place if your friends could find a way to finish me off.”

“Then why haven’t you let them?” I asked instantly. “If you just wanted to die, then it would really easy to just walk out there and let them kill you. But you haven’t, and there is a reason behind that.”

Alright, time to lay down the diagnosis, “I do think that you’re hurting, that your life has been very difficult. It sounds like you had some kind of goal once, something you wanted to accomplish, something you still want that’s keeping you from ending it all right now. But for whatever reason, now you feel that you belong down here. You believe that you’re doing the right thing by locking yourself away from the world, and that getting rid of anypony that might bring you back out is for the greater good. A lot has happened to you, and I won’t pretend that I fully understand what that is. But I do know that… monsters wouldn’t feel the kind of regret you’re showing me.” I let that sink in, meeting his gaze and trying to show as much compassion as I could, “I think you’re sick, Venture, and I… I want to help you.”

Woah, woah, what? What the hell did I just say?! I want to help him? That… no, there’s no way. After everything that had happened? That was crazy. This is crazy. I’m talking nonsense, but…

But Venture was perfect.

I knew it was selfish to think. My duty in life was to treat and soothe the mental anguish this world inflicted on ponies, but there was no way I could ignore an opportunity like this. He was the absolute ideal specimen to show those apathetic warmongers back home that my mission wasn’t the waste of resources they had all thought it to be. A wastelander who had done vile, unspeakable things, but still showed a semblance of equinity. He wanted to be better, but had no recourse as to accomplish that. If I could treat him, then he would be exactly what I needed to finally convince the Enclave to reestablish contact with the Wasteland and bring this whole era of war and strife to an end.

“Please Venture, let me help you,” I repeated.

“Y-you’re lying,” he snapped, backpedaling away as if he’d just been struck. “This is a trick. It’s always a trick. You don’t care! None of you ever really care about me! You’re all the fucking same!” he screamed.

“I’m not lying, Venture, I sw-”

“SHUT UP!” he shrieked, putting his hooves around his ears and sealing his eyes. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” His horn burst into light once more. Books on the shelves behind him, supplies from the desk, and, to my horror, a handgun that had been lying out of view all sprang into the air. They whirled around the room in a gail, slamming into walls and me. The pistol crashed against the ceiling and fired, the bullet planting itself not a hair’s breadth from my face.

I shrieked and tried to shield myself by turning toward the backrest of the couch. My body was battered by the onslaught, and there was no end in sight. This was it, this was how I going to die. Beaten to death by books.

It was graduate school all over again.

Something else hit me, something soft. I spared a wary glance and just barely made out the dull brown cloth of my saddlebags. The gale had it pinned against me, the flap fluttering in the magic breeze. Another book came around and slapped it away, spilling the contents into the wind. I watched as notebooks and potions alike joined the debris sailing about the room.

Then I caught sight of one large colorful piece of cloth. It whipped around the room several times until it too pinned against me, though this time it didn’t fly away. My nostrils were immediately filled with the nostalgic scent of musty, pine cologne. I couldn’t help but grow a small smile as I nuzzled my face into the blanket, taking comfort in the fact that it would be the last thing I see. The figures of the Power Ponies stood in a fanning line before my eyes, almost like they were protecting me from the gale.

And then the winds died.

A thundering cascade of thumps marked the contents of the tome tornado (tomenado?) crashing to the ground, then there was only silence. I took a few shaky breaths, allowing the comforting smell to soothe me. When I was reasonably sure that I wasn’t quite dead yet, I shimmied my head out of the blanket and turned back toward the room.

Venture stood in the exact same place, but now his eyes were open and locked directly onto me. I couldn’t quite read his expression, but I took comfort in the lack of panicked rage. After a few more minutes of silence, he spoke, “What’s that?”

I cocked an eyebrow, “A-a blanket?”

“I… wh- yes I know what a blanket is,” he responded frustratedly. “I mean specifically, what’s on it?”

“Oh,” I said. Well duh, of course that’s what he meant, “It’s the Power Ponies. They’re the characters from my favorite comic books. It was about this group of friends, a bunch super powered ponies that fought against the forces of evil and-”

“You… ” he interrupted. Sheesh, manners were definitely going to have to be part of his treatment… provided we ever got there. “You’ve read the Power Ponies?”

He knew them? Interesting. “Of course. When I was a filly, they were how my dad got me into reading. He’d let me stay up as long as I wanted just so the two of us could get through the next issue. We must have read them a hundred times over, but they never got old.” I grinned at the memory, “Since then my dad and I have always been really close. Have you read them?”

Venture didn’t respond at first. Instead he walked over to the desk and pulled open one of the drawers. Several bundles of paper flew out and hovered in the air before me. My eyes grew wide as Venture displayed the first thirteen issues of the comics, all neatly wrapped in clear plastic with only minimal signs of wear.

He smiled. An actual joyous, unforced, real smile graced my captor’s lips as he saw my reaction.

“Wow,” I whispered. “I’d only ever gotten to see digital copies, never any of the original prints. They were all we ever had back in the Enclave.”

“Enclave?” Venture asked, the smile disappearing.

Shit. Me and my big, stupid mouth.

“What’s that?” he continued.

Oh thank fuck.

“N-nothing special,” I responded instantly. “It’s where I grew up. Just another community out in the Wasteland, th-that’s all.” Technically not a lie.

Venture shrugged, “Ok.”

I needed to get this conversation back on track, I couldn’t afford waste this olive branch. “So who’s your favorite character?”

That got his attention. His grin returned in full force and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “The Masked Matterhorn, obviously,” he stated haughtily. “What’s not to love? She’s strong, cunning, and a real leader.”

“I always liked the Saddle-Rager myself,” I responded excitedly, letting my love for the series drip into my tone. “Smart and compassionate, but if you piss her off she could turn into one bad bitch.” I smiled sheepishly, “It might seem a little stupid, but sometimes I kind of like to pretend I am her. To know that I can dole out love and compassion to everypony I care about, but squish my enemies like bugs if I have to. She’s always been one of my biggest role models.”

“That’s not stupid at all,” Venture said, scooching closer with excitement plastered across his face. “When I was little, my older brother used to play Power Ponies with me and he…” his smile faltered a bit and his tone grew somber. “His favorite was the Saddle-Rager.”

“I have a brother too,” I said. Yes, personal connection achieved! “He’s younger than me, but he was never really into comics. I swear he was born thinking he was too old for stuff like that. Are you two close?”

“We were,” he answered as his expression grew evermore dour. “But… not anymore.”

“Oh?” I said inquisitively.

“Fratricide does tend to strain the concept of brotherly love,” he continued.

Goddess-damn, is there any way to talk to this guy without it ending with him killing somepony? “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Venture mumbled. “He’s just another in a long list of ponies that became the victim of my own stupid decisions.”

Nope. Not letting the conversation turn that way again. Maybe I could push further on this, learning more about his past was exactly what I needed to begin properly working with him. But every instinct I had told me that was a bad idea. Right now I needed to create a deeper bond with Venture. Get him to open up on his own terms. It was incredibly obvious that he needed to feel in control right now. Even so, I needed to catalogue everything he said. I could get through to him, I just knew it.

With as much motion as I was allowed, I motioned toward the floating comics, “I only ever had access to the first ten; I’ve never even seen those three.”

The change in subject brightened him up a bit, “I know what you mean. Until I got here, I only had three. I guess whoever built this place knew that ponies would want to read more than just textbooks. Reading for fun is important too.”

“Do you think… maybe I can read them?” I asked hopefully.

Remember, you’re doing this to establish a more personal connection with him, I thought. Not because issue ten ended with Radiance and Humdrum brainwashed by Hypnogriff into attacking Maretropolis and stopped right before the Power Ponies were forced to fight one of their best friends and Goddess-dammit why did these stupid fucking comics have so many FUCKING CLIFFHANGERS!

“Of course,” Venture said quickly, floating over the three issues and dangling them before me. He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh man, you’re in for a treat. Issue twelve finally introduces the mastermind behind the Legion of Moon that’s been bringing together all the villains in Maretropolis and… oh.” He paused, seeing my strained smile and my eyes darting down toward my bound legs. “I… I can’t really let you go yet.”

“That’s fine,” I said understandingly. It was a fleeting hope anway. “We could read them together.”

His eyes widened and a small blush graced his cheeks, “A-are you sure.”

“Of course. Reading alone can be fun, but sometimes it’s even better when you can share the experience with somepony else.” This was it, I had to be very careful from here on out. He’d extended a measure of trust to me, now I just needed to solidify that feeling, “In fact, it’s the best way to start getting to know a new friend.”

“F-friend?” he asked reservedly, but with a bit of hope twinkling in his eye. “You… want to be my friend? After all this?”

“The best of friends should want to know everything about each other, the good and the bad.” I put on the warmest grin I could possibly muster, “I’ve seen a lot of the bad, so now all that’s really left is the good, right?”

Venture matched my smile and gently pulled issue eleven out of its sleeve. He walked over to the couch, sat beside my head, and flipped the cover to the first page. In the dim blue of his horn’s magic, the first page was illuminated.

He cleared his throat, “The Power Ponies in Hypnotic Radiance Part II.”

“In this corner,” Venture read aloud, his voice higher pitched and nasally to emulate the announcer pony, “we have our challenger. Weighing in at pitiful one hundred twenty pounds of weak pony muscle, fillies and gentlecolts I give you the Saddle Rager.” The panel swapped over to a timid little pegasus standing in one corner of a large wrestling ring. A large crowd of wrestling-costumed henchponies began a chorus of boos.

The succeeding page showed the rest of the Power Ponies trapped in a cage dangling over a vat of highly acidic sports drink. Radiance glared down at the ring with a disapproving look. “Hmmph,” I continued reading in the haughty tone I always imagined she’d have. “What uncivilized ruffians have we become entangled with? Announcing a lady’s weight like that is so uncouth.”

“I think we have bigger problems than that, ponies,” Venture picked up, reading the Masked Matterhorns next line. “Saddle Rager can’t just transform whenever she wants to. Toro Toro will flatten her if she can’t.”

“Don’t worry, girls,” Venture continued, now reading the lines of the sidekick Hum Drum. “I know Saddle Rager won’t let us down.”

“Eh, even if she does,” I piped in, taking over the lines of Zapp, “I was getting kind of thirsty anyway.” She kicked a pebble from the cage and watched it dissolve in the green, bubbling vat below.

The perspective shifted back to the announcer in the ring, “And in this corner…” The lights of the arena dimmed, and a twin pair of spotlights began spanning across the warehouse the match was set to take place in. “We have our champion. Weighing in at an astonishing seven hundred and fifty pounds of pure, unadulterated muscle and brutality. The flattener of foes, the suplexer of superheroes, the dominator of demigods! I give you the one! The only! TORO TORO!”

The henchponies erupted in cheers as the spotlights came to rest on a curtain leading into the ring. The red cloth burst aside as an enormous minotaur sprinted through. He was decked out in full luchador gear, complete with a red and black mask that covered his face and horns. Toro Toro leapt into the ring and snatched the microphone away from the swooning announcer.

“How we all doing tonight!” the villain (Venture) shouted.

Another round of cheers answered him. Several speech bubbles piped in demands of, “Crush that puny pony,” and “Snap her in half,” and, “Have my babies, Toro Toro!”

“That’s good, that’s real good!” he continued. “I think we know why we’re all here, don’t we?!”

More shouts of encouragement rained down on him.

“My friends, we have travelled the globe taking on every single foe that dared think they could stand up to THIS!” Toro Toro hunched over and flexed, bulging out his muscles in a grotesque show of strength. It only further incensed the crowd.

“And now, all of that has led us here to Maretropolis where this-” he pointed toward the Saddle Rager, now shaking like a leaf in the opposite corner, “-weak, miserable little doormat thinks she can possibly stand up and run with this bull!” Toro Toro stalked over to the other end of the arena, shoving his face right down toward the pony.

“Any last words, tiny horse, before Toro Toro flattens you for the entertainment of these fine degenerates?” He pointed the microphone right at the trembling pony.

“U-um, hello everypony,” I whispered meekly. A cascade of boos and a hailstorm of trash and rotten produce pelted the Saddle Rager. “O-oh, please don’t do that. Littering is very harmful for the environment and-”

“I said!” Toro Toro interrupted. “Do. You. Have. Any. Last. Words?!” every panel punctuated the words with another flexing pose.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry,” Saddle Rager responded, clearing her throat. “I don’t want to fight you. We can resolve this peacefully if you just surrender now… if that’s alright.”

“Hmmm!” the minotaur mused mockingly. “That’s a really tempting offer.” He turned toward the crowd, “What do you all think?”

The entire warehouse erupted in boos and shouts of, “No,” and, “Coward!”

“Well there’s your answer,” Toro Toro stated pridefully. “And in case you were thinking about running away, here’s a little motivation.” He snapped his fingers and the cage containing the other Power Ponies instantly began to descend toward the sizzling sports drink.

“We got five minutes before that cage enters Toro Toro’s Super Enhancing Energy Slurp™, and your friends experience The Taste of Victory™,” he leaned toward her, a sneer plastered across his face. “So whattya have to say now?”

“Th-that stuff is… is…” Saddle Rager stammered before her face contorted in rage. “Poison for the environment!” she shouted. “You think you can just pick on anypony smaller than you?! That you can just kidnap anyone you want? Force anyone you want to fight you?” The text became more and more distorted and each panel began to focus on the swelling of Saddle Rager’s limbs and muscles as she grew. “Well I’ve got something to say about that!” the silhouette of the hero’s shadow fell across Toro Toro as his confident look deflated into shock.

Finally the panel shifted back to Saddle Rager. She now stood several feet taller than the minotaur, her muscles bulged to impossible dimensions, and her eyes turned a piercing red.

“WHY DON’T YOU PICK ON SOMEPONY YOUR OWN SIZE!” she roared, then leapt toward her opponent.

TO BE CONTINUED

“GODDESS-DAMMIT,” Venture and I shouted in unison.

“That’s seriously where it ends?” I whined.

“I know!” Venture agreed. “And that’s the last one the library had… the last one that I used to have! I thought, of all places, a fucking library would have the complete set!”

“So we can’t even find out what happens!”

“No!”

“Ugh!” I groaned, slamming my head back against the couch. “Comic book writers seriously needed to consider the world ending before making so many fucking cliffhangers.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Venture intoned as he slid the final issue back into its sleeve.

I didn’t even know how long it had been since we started reading. We started out taking turns reading pages aloud to each other, but eventually started talking about how we felt the characters would speak. Finally we decided on roles and read the corresponding characters, talking and laughing all the way.

It was… nice. I almost even forgot about everything else that had happened today, hell even since I’d arrived in the Wasteland. It was the most normal interaction I’d had with anypony in over a month.

And it was with Venture, somepony that had kidnapped me and killed Goddess knows how many ponies. But with every passing minute, I felt even more assured in my hypothesis. Venture could be treated. He could be my star patient. Now I just needed to find a way to show this off to the Enclave and everything could finally start-

A muffled, crackling noise pierced through the air. Venture locked gazes with me before we both looking up toward the ceiling. We found the noise was coming from an intercom speaker mounted on the ceiling.

“I… is… mmph… fucki…” buzzed through, then some of the static began to clear up. “Is that it? Is it on?” I heard Whiskey’s voice come through.

“Yeah,” Cracks’s distant voice answered. “I re-routed some of the life support system’s power, but it won’t last long. So hurry up!”

“Alright, alright. We got it from here, now get goin’.” Whiskey answered in a hushed whisper. Then he raised his voice to a fairly gruff and menacing tone. “Now you listen here, fuck face. I know you can hear me. Now we know you got our doctor, and… and I saw what you did to my lil girl. Needless to say, I’m a bit put off by that. If I had things my way, I’d be mountin’ your head on my Goddess-damned mantle before the day was done. But for the good o’ the rest o’ my people, I’m willin’ to look past that. I don’t know what it is you’re plannin’, but here’s the deal. I propose a lil bit o’ trade. If the Doc’s still alive, we want her back. You give her up, and I don’t feed all these creepy fuckin’ dolls o’ yours into this real nice, industrial shredder down here in maintenance.”

“He… he wouldn’t,” Venture whispered, horror stricken across his face.

… dolls?

“You got ten minutes to get down here. You take the dolls, then tell us where the Doc is. When we know she’s safe, we all walk outta this with our hides intact. Hear me? Ten minutes.”

The intercom fizzled, then went quiet again.

“Fuck,” Venture whispered, then whirled around began slamming his hooves against the desk. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” He glanced around the room spied the fallen pistol and holstered it before walking toward the door.

“Venture, wait,” I began. “What’s going on?”

“He figured out!” he snapped angrily. “They found out about… about my family.”

“Family?” I questioned. “But I thought you were alone down here.”

“I am… I mean I’m not… I mean… ugh,” he groaned. “It’s hard to explain, but-”

He paused and got that look from before, like he was listening to somepony else talk. “No!” he shouted. “I know it sounds crazy, but-” Pause, “Maybe she’ll understand if I just-” Pause, “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” he screamed as he banged his hooves against his head. “STOP FUCKING TALKING!”

“Venture, who’s talking to you?” I asked.

“Koe!” he shouted. “This fucking asshole can’t just leave me alone for five minutes!”

“Koe?” I continued. “Venture, who is Koe? Nopony else is here.”

“I know that! It’s just… I can’t… it’s a long story alright?” he finished frustratedly. He turned back toward the door, “I’ll… I’ll be back soon, ok?”

“Venture, please wait,” I begged. “I don’t think you can trust Whiskey. Not after… “

“Not after I killed his daughter,” Venture finished bluntly.

“Yes,” I agreed. “So we both know what’s going to happen. Please, we can’t let this end in more violence. We can fix this, talk this out.”

“No, we can’t,” Venture deadpanned. “Stay here.”

“I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of choice in the matter-”

The door sliding shut interrupted me as the unmistakable clunk of heavy locks echoed through the air. Stomping hoofsteps faded into the distance and I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“First session notes,” I mused to myself. “Patient is somewhat uncooperative.”

I waited in silence, not sure how much time was passing. It might have been an hour, or ten minutes. I was never one for waiting patiently. Not since that one time when Sprinkle Shoes blamed me for spilling the glitter glue back in magic kindergarten. Our teacher had made me wait in the corner for ten. Whole. Minutes.

It was so long.

This was bad. Venture needed help, real help. Even if Whiskey was telling the truth, something I doubted for some reason, this wasn’t what he needed. Locking himself back up in this place would only make his condition worse. He’d either have a complete psychological break, leave on his own, and wreak Goddess knows what havoc on the Wasteland, or he’d starve to death. The latter was probably the best he or anypony else could hope for.

Venture was my first test, I just knew it. If I could prove that somepony like him could be treated, then the rest of the Enclave would have no choice but to help my project. Battalions of psychologists could start making their way to the wasteland, clinics could be set up, and, with the minds of the Wasteland’s populace healed, we could start making real headway toward fixing our world.

A noise came from outside the door. I sucked in a breath, waiting to see who was going to make it back. A tinkling of metal began to ring out, a couple snapping sounds, and muffled cursing. Finally, the door sprang open and Cracks hurried inside.

“Doc? Doc, you in here?” she whispered to the darkness.

“Here!” I shouted excitedly before the other mare dashed toward me and slapped a hoof over my mouth.

“Quiet,” she hissed. “You want that psycho coming right back here? Get your shit together, girl.”

“Sorry,” I whispered. “His name is Venture, by the way.”

Cracks gave me a deadpan look, “Excuse me?”

“His name is Venture, not psycho,” I clarified. “Psycho is a very hurtful term to use on somepony suffering from very real mental issues and-”

“Well I regret to inform you that I could not give less of a fuck,” she responded, dumbfounded at my comment.

She levitated over a bobby pin and a screwdriver. The latter was inserted into the padlock on the chains binding me, and the former began slowly circling its perimeter. Within a few seconds, the lock sprang open and the chains slithered to the floor.

Oddly enough, chains do not make the best blankets. I tried to stand, but it felt like I’d just done ten sets on a bench press using every muscle my body had. I very quickly followed the chains to the floor.

“No time for screwing around, Doc,” Cracks whispered as she pushed me up. She glanced around the room before spying the terminal on the desk. “Ha, jackpot.”

She jumped into the chair and started passing her hooves over the keyboard, “Damn, little more security on this one. It’ll take me a minute to crack into this.” Cracks looked back over at me as I finally righted myself. “So here’s the plan. Whiskey and Riveter are gonna take care of the psycho. The old bastard's got a real hard murder-boner going, so he’ll probably get the job done. However, failing that, our job is to find out where the Protocol X shutdown is and get the front door open. We meet up with the others or, if they’re dead, just get our asses outta here. Our choice I guess. Also, Crosshair and North Star got their asses roasted, so we don’t need to worry about them.”

“Wait, what!” I cried, but quieted down when Cracks put her hoof against her mouth. “That’s a hell of an afterthought,” I hissed.

“Eh, shit happens,” Cracks shrugged. “Now hop on the admin terminal out there. I already broke in, so just look through it and see if you can find a way to get the power back on. I’ll work on getting into this one.”

“O-ok, got it,” I stuttered before making my way outside.

Two more? Two more ponies were dead because of Venture? This was getting worse and worse every minute. Could I really do this? Help somepony who could so easily and callously take another’s life? Did I really want to?

Regardless, it wouldn’t matter much if we were all still stuck in the dark. I sat at the smaller desk outside and was greeted by a few lines of text.

‘Morning Announcements’

‘Stable Roster’

‘Cafeteria Schedule’

‘Book Checkout Due Date Database’

‘Resident Checkout Blacklist (Use Only In Case of Extreme Mishandling of Books!!!)’

‘Messages [0]’

‘URGENT MESSAGES [1]’

‘Stable System Functions’

I was about to click the functions tab, but something about the option preceding it caught my eye. Who had sent an urgent message? Why wasn’t it checked? I really shouldn’t, but my curiosity started to burn. Besides, I justified, maybe it had something to do with the shutdown. That would be urgent, right?

I tabbed down to the option and confirmed. Immediately a password screen opened.

‘By Order of Stable-Tec Leadership, This Message Box is For the Viewing of the Stable 42 Administrator Only (No Overmare Access Granted)’

‘Please Enter Admin Password:’

I gulped. Cracks had given me a few tutorials on breaking into terminals, so I guess it was time to give it a real shot. I didn’t have a Pipbuck, but she had given me a small, portable drive with her favorite hacking program installed on it. After plugging it in and launching the program, an enormous list of various characters filled the screen with several words dotted in between. I gulped when I realized it was an eight-character password. Far more than I’d ever had success opening before.

No time for doubt now, I thought.

‘OVERMARE’

‘Entry Denied’

’1/8 Correct’

I guess that would be too easy. I tried several others, meeting similar measures of success. I followed the hints provided to me ‘3/8 Correct, 5/8 Correct,’ until finally, on my last available try, the machine chimed its approval and granted access.

‘FOALFREE’

Huh, interesting. I gazed at my prize, a single, blinking message addressed to the administrator, and the sender seemed to come from Stable-Tec corporate. I clicked it open.

Featherweight,

There is no way I’ll ever be able to express my gratitude to you for helping us out with this. I know you had loftier goals for your role in Stable-Tec, maybe even taking on one of the few Overstallion positions yourself. But, in my opinion, these installations are far more important than almost any others we’ve created. The very least I can do for you now is provide an answer, hopefully one that will satisfy your curiosity as to why this one is not yours.

First off, Applebloom, Sweetie Bell, and I are all well aware of how competent you would be as an Overstallion, never forget that. The Education Initiative was born out of financial necessity, nothing more. The accountants are constantly banging down my door, yelling at us that we can’t afford to build another toilet, nonetheless three more fully equipped Stables. I won’t lie to you, funds are running out. There was no way in Tartarus that we’d be able to apply for a loan, not with the entire Equestrian financial sector controlled by Luna’s government. I don’t need to tell you how much she despises us.

That’s why we turned to the Ministries. They’re somewhat autonomous and, if the rumors are true, this wouldn’t be the first time any of them did something without exactly asking for Luna’s blessing. Twilight and the Ministry of Arcane Sciences were the obvious choice. When she learned we wanted to create an entire series of Stables dedicated to preserving knowledge, she looked about twenty years younger. I hadn’t seen her that happy since before the war.

But she had her conditions, the most important that you need to know of is she wanted to hoofpick the Overmares, no negotiations. We begrudgingly agreed, but, while we hate to go behind her back, the prospects for an experiment are too great to leave this place as a control. That’s where you come in. Whoever is chosen as Overmare may operate the day-to-day functions, but the success of the experiment here is entirely in your hooves. The functions for activating a system called the Eraser Deployment System (as well as the Protocol X emergency power shutdown) are all installed on this terminal. Opening this message will have unlocked the option in the Stable System Functions. It will be up to you to decide when it is enacted.

You’re probably wondering what that experiment is, and I regret we could never talk about it in person. You never know who is listening these days. The idea is simple, and we need only look to history to see why this experiment is so important. The Great Library of Alexhandria was thought to be the greatest collection of Equine knowledge of its day. When it was burned by invading forces almost two thousand years ago, the age of progress and knowledge those ponies had known came to an end almost overnight. Centuries of ignorance and regression took hold, the entire continent devolving into superstitious and fanatical beliefs. Some were derived from real knowledge, but perverted and warped to fit the agendas of those smart enough to control the masses.

That is exactly what we wish to re-enact in Stable 42. If the world as we know it comes to an end, future generations will need as much data as possible to combat what will happen when all known knowledge and history is wiped out. The other two installations that are part of this initiative have their own experiments to cover.

Believe me, we know how this sounds, and what it would do to Twilight if she knew what we were planning. But we can’t let hurt feelings get in the way of progress. This is data we NEED to have, it will be invaluable should the worst come to pass.

Wait as long as you feel is necessary, probably a few decades when the first generation born to the Stable have had their chance to learn what this installation has to offer. Then, when the time is right, activate the EDS and wipe that knowledge out. Failsafes are in place to stop any digital backups that are attempted. After that, we count on you and any others you may see fit to inform to continue this work should anything happen to you. I know it will hurt, especially after all that time you sought the truth at that newspaper we ran when we were kids. But I trust that you realize what’s at stake here.

Thank you again. Good luck.

Scootaloo

I sat back in the chair, breathing a heavy sigh from that letter. Is this really what the Stables had all been about? Running wild experiments on the inhabitants to learn what would happen at the end of the world? The inhabitants of these Stables were here to protect themselves from that. The word ‘control’ hinted that some of these installations were free from this experimentation, and Stable-Tec would pick and choose who would learn how to bring the world back, and who would be the example to learn from. Some detached, unemotional part of me could see some logic in the thinking, but to actually do it? That was insane.

But they were insane times. These ponies knew that their entire way of life could be wiped out in an instant, and preparing their citizenry for that possible outcome would have to have been on at least a few pony’s minds. A very dour thing to foresee, but obviously they were right to think about it. The ponies behind Stable-Tec must have truly believed the ends justified the means. Even still, I shuddered to think of what other schemes they had cooked up for the dozens of other shelters dotted around the country.

“Hey!” Cracks snapped from inside the Overmare’s office, drawing me out of my historical musings. “You got anything yet? We’re on a bit of time crunch here.”

“N-not yet,” I stammered, panickedly backing out of the message. I’d almost completely forgotten about my task. Once again I began to peruse the lines of text, this time clicking my way into the ‘Stable Functions’ tab.

Inside was a menagerie of different options. From scheduled lighting functions, to automated food production, announcement systems, and even prerecorded lullabies to play through the nursery PA system. Finally, at the very bottom of the list, the option ‘Emergency Power Protocols’ was listed. Clicking on it instantly brought up a warning message:

Warning: Eraser Deployment System is now primed. Protocol X Emergency Shutdown highly recommended before activation. All Stable residents should return to their quarters before EDS activation. Failure to do so may result in unintended fatalities.

Below the message listed two options:

Protocol X Emergency Shutdown (Active)

Eraser Deployment System (Inactive)

I tabbed down to the first, my hoof hovering above the enter key, but paused. Turning the lights back on was absolutely what I wanted, to bring some level of normalcy back to this whole fucked up situation. We could get the Stable door back open, regroup with the others, and finally get out of this hellhole.

All it would cost was Venture’s life.

I knew getting the lights back on would basically be signing his death warrant. Without the element of surprise, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Whiskey and Riveter and-

Was I really considering this? Helping him meant that Whiskey and the others might… die. They weren’t exactly my friends, but they certainly hadn’t done anything to hurt me. What the hell was wrong with me? After everything that had happened, everything he’d done? Cracks, Whiskey, Tumbler, all of them had been completely innocent in all of this. Venture was the bad guy, wasn’t he?

I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. That young stallion regaling me about his favorite superheroes with such passion and fervor in his eyes. Holding their tales of selfless heroism as such an intrinsic part of who he was, and what must have happened to him to drive him so far from that path. Regardless of how badly I wanted to compartmentalize him and be done with it, I couldn’t justify to myself that Venture was evil. Like such a frustratingly large amount of things in this Goddess-forsaken Wasteland, it wasn’t that black and white. He was sick, disturbed beyond belief, but not evil.

What the fuck was I supposed to do? How could I even begin to think about treating somepony in a place like this? It wasn’t exactly the most conducive environment for addressing the sort of mental damage Venture had obviously endured. Maybe… maybe a quick death was the more merciful choice.

“Yo Doc!” Cracks shouted. “What in Luna’s holy tits are you doing out there?”

I was about to answer, when the echo of distant gunfire did so for me. The heavy thumps and rapid cracks sounded like a violent thunderstorm. My stomach dropped as the sounds grew faster and more fervent, continuing on with what seemed like no end in sight.

“Sounds like the party’s kicking off,” Cracks mused. “That psycho is in for it now.”

Why oh why did she have to put it like that? I didn’t know what I was going to do as far as treating him, or even what the next few minutes would entail, but my mind grew calm and resolute. I knew what I needed to do right now. The others would have none of it, I knew that too, but this was the right thing to do.

Some logical voice in the back of my mind whispered of this being for the greater good, that successfully treating Venture would force the Enclave’s hoof toward realizing the denizens of the Wasteland were a far cry from the lost cause the pegasi believed them to be. If it meant the deaths of a few more ponies, then maybe that sacrifice was well worth the cost.

I shook that dark thought from my mind and paged down to the second option on the screen. I had no idea what this system was designed to do, but Venture was obviously a survivor. It just might provide the distraction he would need to get away. If not, well it’s not like things would have turned out a whole lot different for him.

Eraser Deployment System (Active)

Family Reading Time

Oftentimes, when people are miserable, they will want to make other people miserable, too. But it never helps.

Six Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

Venture and Crescent sitting in a tree…

“Shut up.”

K - I - S - S - I - N - G…

“Enough.”

First comes kidnapping…

“What?”

Then comes death threats…

“Hey!”

Then comes Stockholm-induced pity fucking!

“I hate you,” I muttered.

Oh you thin skinned little bitch, Koe drawled. I’m just professing your newfound romance through the majesty of song. Seriously, you get offended by everything. Unlike yours truly.

I sputtered at the accusation, “Bwha- roman- romance?! That’s just… utterly ridiculous!”

Don’t you know the immortal law of boning? If a mare willingly talks to you for more than what would be polite, she wants to bang you. Every stallion knows and understands this rule very well.

“That… doesn’t sound right.”

It is right.

“Not like it matters, seeing as how I would obviously have zero interest in anything like that,” I said.

Yeesh, when are you going to get over that? Maybe getting a little action will help you with that particular issue of-

“That’s definitely not right,” I interrupted bluntly.

Koe fell silent at that, but I wasn’t entirely sure if I should have relished that as a victory.

Muted, metallic scuffs rang out from beneath my hooves as I moved toward the maintenance wing. I winced slightly as I put too much pressure on my wounded leg. The bleeding had stopped, but magic bandages were significantly slower than potions. It would be a good while before the bullet hole healed completely. Until then, I’d have to make do with being hobbled.

The entire Stable seemed to have fallen quiet for the first time since the intruders had arrived. I was left alone with my thoughts, a fact that almost came within spitting distance of making me want Koe to interject again. My hatred of him was at least familiar, something I could compartmentalize and understand. Hatred was like sitting down with a familiar old book for me, the confusion I was feeling now was more like repeatedly smacking myself in the face with one.

Crescent Harmony.

Even just thinking about seeing her again made my stomach turn… but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Like getting bucked in the stomach right after stuffing yourself full to bursting with Fancy Buck Snack Cakes. It hurt, and you knew what was coming, but just a small part of you was looking forward to enjoying the flavor one more time.

I really needed to come up with more palatable metaphors.

What was I supposed to think? She was… kind? Sure. But had there ever been any shortage of ponies that had been ‘kind’ to me in the past, only to show that it had all been a lie? That mare in the Pit? Lemon Tart? Tender Heart? Fucking Koe?! All of them had shown me how much their ‘kindness’ had actually meant. How could I be expected to trust anypony again after all of this?

And yet I so desperately wanted to.

I was starved, aching for any form of companionship. That familiar hole in my heart screamed for the cure that lay right in front of me. Crescent had seen what I am, knew the depths of the horrors I inflicted on others. Yet still she sought to understand me, weaving such pleasant tales of what she could do to help me. But… why?

Starts with ‘D’ ends with ‘eath.’ Kinda rhymes with possum breath?

“But what if-”

It’s gruesome death… that’s what I was implying…

“Maybe she-”

… which is what you would give her if she weren't nice to you. Just spelling it out in case you didn’t pick up on that, because you’re kinda slow.

“Ok, granted. But it’s not like-”

Kid, the voice said with finality. Try and look at this through her eyes. She’s a doctor, obviously not some badass soldier, and was probably expecting to patch up a couple scrapes and boo-boos. Instead she shows up, finds a cadaver puppet show, then gets kidnapped by the fucking puppet master. What, exactly, were you expecting her to do? Act pompous and heroic in the face of her inevitable demise? Yeah no, that shit doesn’t happen in the real world. She’s gonna say whatever she has to in order to make sure she gets out of this with that pretty little head still on her shoulders.

“Y-you don’t know that,” I snapped unconvincingly. “She really seems like she wants to help me and-”

Oh yes, based off of your incredible resume in dealing maturely with stressful social situations. Obviously that’s the conclusion that any sane pony would come to, he said sarcastically. Hmm, let’s go down the list on how you’ve dealt with that in the past. Head caved in with a rock, impaled, drowned in radioactive water, fed to lizards, strangled… need I go on?

That comfortingly familiar anger flashed through me, “That wasn’t… all my fault, and you know it. Maybe if you actually stayed out of it for once in your Goddess-damned life, I could actually make a- a-”

A friend? he asked, devolving into a fit of giggles.

The corridor abruptly came to an end outside of the maintenance wing. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how barren the halls had been. Not a single member of my family was anywhere to be found. It hadn’t been a bluff, the scavengers had rounded up every single one they could find.

Fucking bastards.

I unholstered my pistol and checked the safety. This Whiskey character had promised an exchange, but I’d be an idiot if I ignored what was plainly in front of me. This was a trap and I was walking right into it.

All for a bunch of fucking! Dolls!

I pressed a hoof against the sliding steel door, but found it locked. Did they want me to knock? I guess that would make sense. I’d lose any element of surprise that way. There was an air vent just a few meters away, one I knew led directly into the ductwork above the maintenance room. But would they be expecting that? They already knew I travelled through the vents from our earlier encounter.

All I knew for sure was that there were three guns pointed at that door, and time was running out for my family. I had to make a decision quickly.

This… Koe trailed off, genuine awe in his tone. Well shit, this I can say with absolute one hundred percent honesty I did not expect.

“What do you mean?” I asked as I drew the final lines on the ritual circle. I checked over the finished product, holding up the book levitating beside me to ensure the accuracy of the recreation. Satisfied, I nodded and turned to the next page of ‘O’rngth’kal,’ by Crafty Love. A… controversial figure in Equestrian history. When I discovered who the mare had been and, more importantly, what she’d discovered, I was shocked to find her works in a place like this. In a medical wing of all things. Although, I suppose, deep, ancient ponish magic would be a good last resort for a doctor of more… questionable moral standing. There was probably a reason it had been stored in the chief physician’s office behind a very conveniently unlocked safe.

Regardless, I’d perused the book before as I have to confess that I had grown a fondness for ritual magic. That as opposed to the more instantaneous thaumaturgical abilities that most unicorns displayed.

This area of study encompassed such depth and adaptability. A blast of energy or grand feat of levitation were all well and good, but they were so… limited. The only true variance between them were how efficient one was with their magical reserves, how much raw power they could draw upon. Which, of course, led one to better blow up a wall or lift a heavier rock. While grand, complex feats were certainly possible in this arena, the knowledge and raw power required to do so relegated such prowess almost entirely to the monarchy of old Equestria.

As opposed to memorizing specific aetheric flows and channeling lines, checks and safety precautions, and having access to a magical reserve on par with celestial god-beings, ritual magic allowed for preparation. Lines of the ritual circles represented how the magic would flow, like an electrical circuit. Transistors and capacitors were replaced with glyphs and typography intrinsically woven into the magic imbuing our world. Then, with the flip of a unicorn’s switch, the circuit is activated. Theoretically, given the time and components, the most basic of unicorns could cast spells that could bend the fabric of reality.

There were the more basic rituals like the poltergeist spell I’d used earlier, where the channeling lines of the sigil could be drawn in one’s mind, rather than creating a physical conduit for the magic. However, the more powerful spells were made significantly more trivial with some physical component. The catalysts of a ritual almost always required a circle. The other piece generally took form in an object like an ancient artifact somehow related to the ritual’s purpose, or maybe a personal belonging of the intended target. Sometimes it took the form of something some might call… uncouth.

You are DRIPPING with blood! Koe said incredulously.

I spared a glance at the sheen of red splattered across my body, “I wouldn’t say dripping, more like… dampened in blood.”

How does that make it any better? I mean, shit, I know I shouldn’t be one to talk, but this… I did not expect something like this from you.

I glanced briefly over the sigil I’d painted across the floor, nodding acceptably at its resemblance to the one I recalled from the book. A twisting, unnerving array of sweeping lines, cryptic, otherworldly symbols, and a smattering of old ponish phrases. The center of the circle was occupied by the donor’s torso, with the head, rear legs, and a single foreleg occupying spaces encircling it. I held the remaining leg aloft, using it as an impromptu paint brush to complete the circle.

“He did come here to kill me,” I said, shrugging and placing the leg in its indicated spot. “And it’s not like he’s using the body anymore.” I spared a look at the scavenger’s scorched face, its expression locked in eternal agony.

So mutilating a corpse with the intention of using it in some black magic, freaky blood ritual is… fine, according to your incredibly fucking twisted sense of morality?

I shrugged again, “‘No magic is inherently good or evil, regardless of the components required to enact it. It is only with what motivation it is created that deems the morality of the pursuit,’ Littlehoof, Moralizing Magic.”

Ain’t that the philosopher that Celestia had banished to the sun after that whole incident with those fillies…

“His crimes committed later in life do not diminish the logic in his reasoning,” I interrupted quickly.

So you are now using the moral compass drawn by a pedophile philosopher to justify your black magic, freaky blood ritual.

“... yes.”

And what is the noble goal you hope to accomplish by doing so?

“I’m going to take on the appearance of their dead friend, sneak inside the maintenance wing and… stab them all in the back.”

Brilliant, Koe said haughtily, rolling the ‘r’ in the word.

I cursed silently as the voice withdrew.

My attention fell back on the ritual circle and the spell I’d been envisioning. Taking on the form of another was changeling territory of magical capability, and for them it was as ingrained into their biology as breathing. So the question now became how did one teach a previously non-breathing creature to do so? How did one communicate to a fish what it was like for a bird to know how to fly? The answer, as I was beginning to learn was frustratingly often the case, was experience. However, being currently without the untold thousands of hours of research and practice such experience would require, I was presently forced down a more… direct route.

An old, dusty tome filled with spells I’d slap-dashedly translated with an old ponish to modern Equestrian dictionary. What could go wrong?

I laid down in the center of the circle, kneeling before the charred torso. My eyes closed and my horn targeted the inception point, the torn open rib cage and exposed, static heart. “Corporum… sanguisaniam,” I mumbled quietly. A pulsing ball of blue glowed brightly behind my eyelids. I peeled them open to see an undulating, blinding mass forming at the tip of my horn. With an echoing drip, it fell into the open chest cavity, filling it like a fleshy punch bowl. The energy roiled within the torso until the entire mass began to melt. The red of the remaining blood and blue of the magic swirled together into a deep, sparkling purple.

I cocked my head, having never actually seen the spell work before. The violet corpse and magic slurry began spreading out across the lines of the circle, picking up and liquifying each of the remaining body parts into the same brilliant, twinkling hue. The old ponish calligraphy began to emit vapor, the trails forming into copies of the words suspended in the air.

“Mortest,” a deep, resonant voice whispered. One of the words flashed as it was said.

“Pelliaz,” another said, the second word illuminating.

“Dolum,” said a third.

“Imperriasin,” said the last.

The vapor grew denser and splattered back to the floor like miniature rain clouds. Then all was quiet.

“Is… is that it?” I said dully. I turned back toward my body, trying to see if anything had changed and found nothing. “Well…” I re-envisioned the steps in my mind as I flipped through the dusty tome and messy sticky-note translations. “... well shit. I mean, I know I’m not the best artist, but come on. Isn’t this good enough?”

As if in response, a slithering tentacle formed from within the purple ichor and whipped around one of my legs. “Hey!” I shouted, pulling back. “What the-”

I was interrupted by another lashing around my neck, pulling tight and slamming me into the shallow pool. “Mmmph!” I cried in panic.

Oooo, I take it all back, Koe said excitedly. This is getting good.

Help me, Goddess-dammit, I thought panickedly.

What the fuck do you want me to do? he responded. Besides, you made your corpse soup bed. Lie in it.

More and more of the tendrils shot out of the pool and slapped around me. I continued struggling against the magical restraints, but it was becoming obvious how futile it was. A final strand covered my face, blocking my vision and cutting off what little air I had. The mass atop me kept pulling tighter, my bones cried out like they were about to snap. An unnerving warmth began to emanate from the cocoon, but it would be remiss of me to not admit that it was almost… comforting.

Did I really just kill myself with a corpse-fueled electric blanket? I really didn’t want that to be my final thought.

Just as my body felt as if I were about to shatter, the pressure began to ease off. The mass of tendrils melted away, dripping off my body and rejoining the pool. I blearily stood up, feeling a bit woozy. It felt like I was caked in mud. A solid, yet permeable layer plastered over my skin.

Koe shimmered into existence before me, whistling. Hot damn, kid. Kills me to say it, but you’re actually getting pretty good at this. He pursed his lips and pressed his hooves against his cheeks, bunching up the skin goofily, I’m so pwoud of my wittle necwomancer.

I cast a quick spell and a reflective surface appeared before me. The pony staring back looked just like the immolated scavenger I’d pulled out of the Medbay. The coat was an unrecognizable mash of blistering and charred flesh, the mane and coat having been all but burned away, and the face drooped like hot candle wax. The right side of the head had the eye melted shut. The left had most of the flesh burned away, including the eyelid, causing the eye to gape wide in a horrifying display.

“Well… there it is,” I said, gesturing with a scorched leg. My voice had changed as well, sounding just like the stallion I’d set ablaze. “Shit I’m ugly. Do me a favor and help me walk off a cliff if I ever end up looking like this.”

Don’t flatter yourself. Honestly, this is kind of an improvement, Koe answered. But… uh, how is looking like a flambéed corpse supposed to help?

“The spell makes you look exactly the way the catalyst did before they died,” I responded. “They wouldn’t exactly be fooled if he just rose from the dead looking perfectly fine.”

Oh, I get it, Koe sneered connivingly. You play it off like a miraculous, but horrifying survival. How deliciously deceitful.

“Exactly,” I mumbled, noticing how difficult it was to talk. As if the skin of my mouth had actually melted.

Well, I don’t see any way this could possibly go wrong. Let’s do it, candle-butt. Time’s a wastin’.

How did one properly portray somepony that had just been engulfed in a chemically-fueled blaze and walked away from it? I’d assume their voice would be raspy, the burns would doubtlessly have impaired muscle movement, breathing, talking… existing.

Oh and the pain, there would probably be a lot of pain. Who knew all this time I’d just been practicing for my acting debut?

“B-boss!” I croaked as loudly as the melted flesh around my mouth would allow. I slumped against the door, trying to cause even a faint thump through the metal. “H-help… me!”

I pounded several more times, becoming more fervent in my efforts. Wait, would I become more fervent? Maybe more disheartened and willing to accept death. I’d been close to death several times, I should have an answer for this. Context really was everything.

“H-help!” I cried again, throwing the entirety of my weight against the door in a final, desperate plea.

“Who the fuck is it?” I heard Whiskey’s muffled voice say from the other side.

Oh shit, what was his name? They’d said it a couple times. Copperhead? Crackhouse? What in the hell was-

Crosshair.

The name appeared vividly in my thoughts, followed very closely by a deluge of information that I would have had no way to provide.

Crosshair, thirty-one years old, stallion, the best riflepony this side of the Marejave (or so he tells everypony). He’d spent his entire life growing up in Hoofsprings. Helped put down a gecko infestation that nearly wiped out half the town about a decade back. The whole event gave him no small amount of notoriety amongst the populace. Although they probably wouldn’t have been so eager in heaping praise had they known he’d been pissing himself in a closet while his father, that he was supposed to be spotting for, had been abandoned and left to die. But dear old dad managed to take enough of the vermin with him to scare the horde off.

Then I picked up dad’s rifle and everypony thought it had been me that had turned the tide. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen. I was a hero to them. After everything they’d been through, the town needed some hope. Who was I to take that away?

Wait… I? Why was I thinking like it was me? The spell obviously provided far more than I had initially foreseen. I could see glimpses of my host’s life.

“I-it’s Crosshair,” I wheezed weakly.

“Wh- what?” Whiskey answered. “What the fuck did you say?”

“Please, b-boss,” I said. “It hurts… it hurts so much.”

“Goddess-dammit,” he swore. “Get this door open now!”

The steel door slid open, revealing two very curious, yet weapons-readied ponies. I gained my first clear glimpse at Whiskey Stone, noting him to be an elderly stallion with a chestnut coat and a graying tan mane and beard. He wore old, yet well-cared for combat barding and had a double-barrel shotgun slung around his neck. A second pony stood beside him, his features hidden behind heavy plates of metal armor and a welding mask with a thick, blacked-out lens. The other pony also sported a huge, wicked looking machine gun welded onto his side and a belt of bullets slung across his chest.

That was going to make this complicated.

“Holy hell,” Whiskey breathed, taking in my scorched visage. “That… that really you, Crosshair? We thought… I mean the fire and-”

“H-help… me… Goddess-dammit,” I mumbled, then collapsed across the door’s threshold.

“Shit,” the older stallion growled. “Riveter, grab him while I lock the door. The psycho’s late.”

“What’re we gonna do with him, boss?” Riveter said numbly. “I mean… shit look at him. How is he still breathin’?”

“I don’t know, but I hired ‘im,” Whiskey said as he shut the door behind us. “If he’s still alive I gotta try and get ‘im home. I’ve lost too many people today. Don’t look good if I lose two scav teams in as many days. Gotta get as many of y’all out alive as I can.”

I was hoisted onto the metal-armored pony’s back and walked through the maintenance wing. It wasn’t a place I’d taken a lot of time to explore. These Stables were incredibly well built and almost none of the systems ever needed any sort of repair. Thus I never really had any need to come here. Still I’d taken the occasional trip as, like every part of the Stable, a collection of books pertaining to the location were found here. Repair guides, engineering textbooks, books on proper water filtration and the like were all stored on the shelves. Not the most engaging subjects, but I’d perused a few of the volumes before.

“Lay ‘im down in back,” I heard Whiskey say. “Don’t need ‘im wanderin’ into the crossfire.”

I was unceremoniously dumped on the floor. “Uh,” Riveter mumbled. “So… do ya want anythin’, Crosshair? Some water or… a blanket?”

“I think warmth is last fuckin’ thing he wants, you dumbass,” Whiskey snapped. “Put some water next to ‘im and cover the door. I’ll keep an eye on the ventilation grates.”

Haha, I was right! Not something I get to say very often.

Ok… plan time. I cracked open my eyes and surveyed my surroundings. The maintenance wing was pretty barren. It was a large, rectangular room, decorated with the various inner-workings of the Stable. Water and gas pipes lining the walls, blinking panels controlling life-support, and large, whirring machines controlling the ventilation systems. There were a few desks and a row of shelves with untouched boxes of tools and spare parts sitting on each. A small staircase led up to the door I’d been brought through, and I spied Riveter taking his post at the door.

Whiskey had his gaze turned toward the ceiling, his focused eyes locked onto the panels leading into the ventilation ducts. I subtly shuffled my rear leg, reassuring myself as I felt the shape of the 10mm buried beneath the disguise. I spied a large socket wrench on a shelf beside me, and the formulation of a plan began to sprout in my mind. If I could take out Whiskey without arousing any suspicion, then I could grab his shotgun and bring down Riveter before either of them even began to suspect what was going on.

I sent a tendril of magic snaking across the floor and watched as it slowly wrapped around the wrench. A slight scraping of metal rang out as it rose into the air and began floating toward me.

… but this is my chance.

Wait… what? I hadn’t thought that. Had I? I shook my head of the thought and dragged myself to my hooves, warily keeping out of sight of Whiskey. The older stallion still had his eyes locked onto the vents above, his back toward me. I took a careful step, then another.

… I need to prove myself. Everypony is talking behind my back, I just know it. They know I let dad die, that I hid like a coward. I’m… not… a-

I clenched my eyes and took a shuddering breath. Ignore it, I thought, this is just a side-effect of the ritual. Goddess-damn I needed another voice in my head like I needed a bullet in the… leg. I winced, staring down at the portion of my rear leg, currently encased in Crosshair’s skin, that still sported the bullet wound from earlier. Incredible how I could forget about something like that… also probably not a good sign that I couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

Deal with it later, I thought. I focused back on Whiskey, glaring daggers into the back of his head as I hefted the wrench in my magic. I stalked forward, wanting as much power in the swing as possible.

… why am I trying to hurt Whiskey? He’s a stubborn old bastard, but working with him will-

Stop, I thought harshly.

… but that’s why I’m here. I can’t hurt him. What’s going on? Why can’t I control my body? Who’s voice is that?

I could ask the same question, I thought back.

Wait a minute, I know you. You’re the psycho we’re after… you’re- controlling me? How? What happened? I remember… the Medbay. We were trying to… help Tumbler… and find you… but then-

Oh fuck, this isn’t good.

I honestly didn’t think this could get any better, Koe chimed in happily. I heard a rustling and crunching sound, like somepony was eating popcorn.

Who’s that? What’s going on? Crosshair, I guess, asked panickedly.

No way, you can hear me? Koe asked jovially. Kid, you have fucked up in the past, but this is just a whole new level. You didn’t just kill the bastard, you brought him back from the dead to watch you kill his friends! And I get to be a part of it! Best. Day. Ever.

Wait, what?! What in Tartarus is he talking about?! What does he mean brought back from the dead?! Crosshair screamed in my head.

Yeah… so here’s the thing… I thought awkwardly. We kind of killed you and… now I’m wearing your skin as a disguise.

What. The. Fuck? He said in disbelief.

That’s what I’m saying! Koe interjected as he devolved into a giggling fit.

Don’t take it the wrong way, I thought back quickly. It’s not like I just skinned you and stitched together an outfit, that wouldn’t have looked believable at all. I used a ritual that dissolved your body into aetheric energy that then formed a perfect magical shell of you. But I guess your… soul? Consciousness? I don’t know, I’m not a theologist or anything. But some part of you is still here. This is the first time I’ve ever used any remotely necromantic magic before and… I’m not making this sound any better, am I?

WHAT THE FUCK?! Crosshair repeated, despair riddling his tone. The newest voice to join the conference call that had become my mind began to… hyperventilate? Wait, why would a voice… er consciousness… soul? This was getting confusing. Regardless, why was he breathing, even more so panickedly? Perhaps the memory of, at least until quite recently, having a body was at play here. Would the sundered soul… er memory… whatever the fuck he was, possibly recall what his physical body would have experienced and was performing the action on pure reflex? If it were just a memory, perhaps the entity had just perfectly recreated Crosshair’s thought process and predicted what the most likely response would be to the situation. Or maybe-

Is this really the time for a philosophical rumination on the mechanics of your black magic, freaky blood ritual?! Koe said rather loudly, attempting to drown out the panic attack that Crosshair was currently experiencing. This was fun at first, but my lease didn’t say anything about a fucking roommate.

Oh I’m sorry, I thought back venomously, were you expecting me to drop everything and evict him?

That would be ideal, yes, Koe said simply.

You… two, Crosshair interjected, apparently regaining some of his faculties. You… killed me.

I’m so glad we’re all on the same page now, I responded sarcastically, and I’m real broken up about it, believe me. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy. So if you could just hush up for a few minutes, then I’ll kill your friends and you can go back to being dead. Would that make everypony fucking happy?! Huh?!

N-no, Crosshair stuttered. No no no no nonononononono…

Woah you ok there, slick? Koe asked as Crosshair devolved into manic mutterings. Believe you me, I know waking up to find you don’t have a body, and that you’re now eternally stuck inside this dipshit, is a pretty earth-shattering kick in the dick.

Hey!

I don’t… I don’t want to… die again, Crosshair finally stated shakily.

Ok, granted your first go around the whole death thing was pretty rough, I responded. My bad, that’s on me. But come on, the other side can’t be worse than staying inside my head. You don’t have a lot of options here.

There was… nothing, the stallion said. Just… darkness.

… what are you talking about? I asked after a few seconds.

I remember now, Crosshair continued. The fire, it was so hot. My skin felt like it was bubbling and melting away. I tried to scream… but my mouth melted shut… and my lungs inhaled the heat. My flesh sizzled, my organs began to boil, every waking moment was… agony.

He fell silent for a moment, but what he said next made me wish he’d stayed quiet.

But I would endure that pain for a thousand years rather than glance back into that void for another second.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, Koe chanted, having apparently grown much more excited as to what our new guest had to say. You actually saw the other side? What was it like? Lakes of fire? Endless darkness? Eternal recompense for your life’s greatest sin in an ironic and endless loop? Or, dare I say, his voice grew far quieter and filled with reverence, breezy rap battles? He shuttered.

Screams, the traumatized ghost continued. There were so many screams. I can’t even begin to… words don’t-

Crosshair’s voice cracked slightly before he fell silent, leaving that heavy thought to thoroughly sour my desire to follow through on the casual murders he’d so rudely interrupted.

There was some kind of presence, he continued after a moment. Something that called to me, drew me nearer. I didn’t want to listen, there was something… wrong about it. Something unnatural, dark and… hateful. It wanted to swallow every damned soul in that void alongside me. I guess that’s why they were screaming.

Huh, Koe said after a moment. So god really is dead. Good to know, since we probably ain’t that far behind you.

I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call this guy a paragon of virtue, I thought defensively. Maybe he was seeing the more… brimstoney afterlife.

Uh-huh, Koe agreed sarcastically. Let’s go ahead and slap that heart of yours on the scale. You figure you can beat the feather?

Good point, I answered begrudgingly, and I have to say I’m impressed with the reference to Somnambula’s theory on the afterlife. I’ve actually been wanting to discuss all of that with somepony for a while now, but I never thought you were getting anything out of all this reading and…

Uh, kid, Koe said.

I ignored the voice, my innate curiosity running rampant over my thoughts.

… I’m curious how you felt her theories aligned with those propagated by the Church of Celestia. Seeing as how the princess herself never really put forward any claim that she had first hoof accounts of the afterlife. You’ll probably remember that the cardinals of her religion theorized that, being an equus-bound deity, there was certain knowledge that was too divine for mortal minds to comprehend so she…

Venture… he continued.

… had to keep most of her cosmic knowledge closed off from us for our protection. Even though the church itself was formed without Celestia’s direction, she also never tried to influence their teachings. With Crosshair here now being a primary source of information, I wonder if we could actually start hypothesizing some concrete theories on what the actual afterlife could look like. Especially after the death of the being past Equestrians unanimously agreed was their god. It really opens up a lot of avenues for…

No, no, Crosshair said dully, yet malevolently. Let’s let him figure it out for himself.

Do you know how many times this dumbass would have died if I ever did that? Koe responded. Venture, pay a-fucking-ttention!

What are you two going on abou-

Click-clack.

The sound of Whiskey’s double-barrel shotgun breaching and closing interrupted the tongue… er… thought lashing I was laying on my two cerebral sidekicks. Whiskey had turned around at some point, and the business end of the shotgun was pointed directly at my… er… our head.

“Why Crosshair,” the elderly stallion said with mock concern, “whenever were you plannin’ to let the rest o’ us know you were a unicorn? Have my old eyes just never been able to see it?” He glanced briefly toward the wrench still suspended in the air beside me, poised to strike.

“Uh,” I responded. Haha, taste the wicked edge of my rapier wit! I sheepishly hid the weapon behind me, grinning as wide as the melted mouth would allow. “H-how’s it goin’, boss? I was just… uh, you know? Looking for… leaks?”

The humor swiftly disappeared from Whiskey’s face. “Give it up, freak, I know it’s you,” he said gruffly. “Ya mind explainin’ why it is that you’re wearin’ my ex-employee’s skin? Can’t say I’m exactly sure how this fits into our agreement.”

My smile faltered, the jig was up. “Well they do say if you really want to get to know somepony, you should walk a mile in their shoes. I’m just… taking it a few steps further than that.”

Whiskey chuckled darkly. He took a step forward and pressed the barrel up against my face. “Now you listen and you listen good, you son of a bitch. If I had my way, I’d make sure ya suffered tenfold for every moment o’ hurt ya laid down on my lil girl. But seein’ as how I still got people alive here, I’ll just have to make due fillin’ your rotten corpse with buckshot.” His smile returned for a moment, “And I ain’t plannin’ on it just takin’ one shot. First I’ll blow off your legs, then put a couple o’ shells in your balls. And just when you’re beggin’ ol’ Whiskey to have mercy and end it all, then maybe I’ll shove the barrel right up your ass and-”

“This is getting a little… sexual,” I interrupted, surprising myself with the outburst. “No offense, but I’m not really comfortable with that.”

“Wh-what the f-” he began, faltering at my question.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” I continued, the spark of an idea beginning to form. “I’m not one to… what’s it called? Kink shame? Sorry I don’t really have a lot of experience with… this. And, for personal reasons I’d rather not share, I’d rather it stay that way.” The wrench slowly levitated from around my other side. A row of shelves hid the tool from view as I cautiously brought it up toward the ceiling.

“Ya really think now is an appropriate time to be mockin’ me, boy?” Whiskey said in disbelief. “Need I remind you of the twelve gauge enema I’ve got pointed right at your-”

“And there you go again,” I interrupted once more. “Can you please respect my boundaries here? I get it, you’re going to kill me in a grand and painful fashion, but I’m… not comfortable with the sexual idioms. Can you just keep your menacing speech away from anything like that?”

Whiskey stared at me for a moment, head cocked quizzically and his mouth slightly agape. “Ya really are a looney toon, ain’t ya?”

I grinned maniacally in response, trying to expose as much teeth as the flesh mask would allow, “I’m just trying to make sure we all respect each other’s needs and boundaries.” Then I started to cackle, letting the disconcerting giggles overwhelm the space, “D-do either of you *hehe* w-want to have a feelings circle?” I tilted my head back and let loose, choking out the laughs as my heart raced with the gravity of the situation. Any second he might get tired of my antics and start firing. I couldn’t push him too far, but I needed them both to be uncomfortable enough to pause. I needed a little more time.

I used my head’s new position to look back at the wrench, carefully positioning its jaw around one of the sprinkler heads up above.

Just keep letting them think you’re crazy, I thought.

Think? Koe interjected wryly.

Shut up.

Whiskey turned toward his armored companion, who was looking just as dumbstruck by my comments as he was. “Riveter, I don’t even wanna look at this psycho anymore.” He turned away, lowering his gun. “Just put him down like the rabid dog he is.”

“Uh, r-right boss,” the armored pony sputtered, shaking himself from his distracted stupor. He stalked toward me, his heavy metal armor ringing out with every step.

Whiskey backed away, shaking his head. “Just another lunatic,” he muttered. “Probably don’t even know what he’s done.”

Riveter soon stood in front of me, and I heard the bone-chilling sound of the machine-gun’s bolt. “Shit,” he said numbly, “Almost feel sorry for the bastard.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I gasped, trying to recover from the outburst of laughter. “I made a bunch of new friends today. Didn’t I?”

“Just put him down already, Riveter,” Whiskey called. “We ain’t got time for this.”

“Hold on now,” I called, losing the laugh and becoming completely serious. This gave both of them a bit of pause. “Don’t you want to finish telling me how you’re gonna kill me?” I let the grin cover my entire face, letting the image sink into both stallion’s memories. “Or is it my turn now?” the wrench turned and broke off the sprinkler head.

In one of my incredibly rare moments of foresight, I had at one point tried to take stock of my supplies in the Stable. While the food was designed to be preserved for centuries, and feed a population of hundreds for that amount of time, water was something I was slightly concerned about. The primary source was a talisman that seemed to draw water from the surrounding air, purify, and then dilute it into a drinkable form. I’d often wondered what I’d do if this talisman ever failed, and I’d looked for a backup plan just in case.

This led me to the fire suppression system that I’d seen deployed around the entire stable. Probably not ideal to drink standing water that had been sitting around for two hundred years and never even meant to be drank, but if it came down to that or dying, it was a pretty easy choice. However, when I’d come across the source for this intricate sprinkler system, I was slightly disappointed to find that it would not solve my theoretical water crisis.

This was because the sprinkler system was filled with a rapidly expanding, fire-retardant foam. And this very foam filled the space in seconds.

“What the f-” Riveter shouted as he was doused in foam. The three of us were swiftly blinded by the bubbly blizzard.

“DON’T LET ‘IM GET AWAY!” Whiskey shouted panickedly. The sound of his shotgun firing followed soon after, causing several mounds of foam to explode into strangely joyous displays of raining bubbles. Heck if you took out the whole trying to kill me thing, one might think we were having a bubble, necromancy, and firearm themed birthday party.

I dived into the foam and began making my way away from the pair of scavengers. Riveter soon overcame his shock and began unloading his machine gun in a wild frenzy. The dull, cracking thumps of automatic gunfire echoed around the room, though somewhat dampened in the mass of foam. I could feel the bullets piercing the camouflage, narrowly missing me as I crawled forward.

Suddenly my leg jerked, the very same that had already been wounded (of fucking course), as a bullet slammed into it. I gritted my teeth, preparing for the inevitable rush of searing pain, but…

AHHH! Crosshair screamed inside my head. Wh-what the hell just happened?

… huh.

My body jerked as another bullet slammed into me.

FUCK! Crosshair cried again. Wh-why does that hurt? I thought I was supposed to be dead!

Well this is certainly a new development, Koe said thoughtfully. Dead body, body armor. Who’da thunk it?

I kept crawling through the foam. Just because Crosshair was, apparently, tanking every shot that came my way didn’t mean I had to keep tempting fate.

“Where are you, you son of a bitch!” Whiskey growled.

A hole appeared in the foam right next to my head, exposing me to the scavengers.

“There!” the elder stallion cried. He took aim and fired again, this time right at my head. I ducked, narrowly avoiding the hail of shrapnel when-

MY GODDESS-DAMNED EAR! Crosshair screamed, and I became acutely aware of my own ear popping out of the newly made hole in my… skin suit.

Is that really what I was wearing? I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’d cast a spell that liquified a pony’s corpse, made a suit of flesh armor, and yanked his damned, tormented soul back into the mortal plane to come along for the ride and watch this whole shit-show unfold.

All to protect a collection of mannequins that I called family.

This was really starting to sound like some wackadoo, serial-killer shit.

Uh, no doi? Why do you think I’m freaked out?

Well at least I’m cognizant of it, I thought indignantly.

Recognizing you have a problem is the first step toward-

Another shotgun blast interrupted that particular line of thinking. I ducked back into the foam, but soon came to the horrified realization that I was running out of places to hide. I’d only managed to set off the one sprinkler head, and that wasn’t nearly enough to fill the entire room. I glanced at my wounded leg, knowing there was another way to defend myself lurking just beneath Crosshair’s skin.

Hey, Crosshair, I began, trying to sound supportive. How you holding up, buddy?

Wh-what the fuck do you care? he responded through what sounded like gritted teeth.

Again, how does a disembodied voice even do that? He didn’t have teeth!

I ask because I’m… about to make it a lot worse.

Wh-what d’ya mea-he began, but was cut off when my magic surrounded the bullet hole in my… his… our… fuck it, in my leg and started yanking at the edges, trying to widen the hole.

AHHHHHH! Crosshair screamed. Y-you motherfu- AHHHHHH!

This really wasn’t part of the plan, I swear.

Strips of Crosshair’s bloody flesh dripped onto the floor, disappearing into the foam and leaving a subtle pink hue as it mixed with the white.

Well, you being in my head to begin with wasn’t part of the plan at all and-

JUST FUCKING HURRY UP YOU ASSHOLE! he screamed, starting to sound like he might be crying.

I was starting to feel kind of bad about this.

Finally, the hole was wide enough for me to slither a tendril of magic inside and yank out the pistol hidden beneath. It was covered in slippery, sickly purple gore. A horrifyingly pungent scent of rot wafted up from the wound, as if I’d just uncorked a bottle of milk that was about fifty years past its expiration date… and filled with the rotting remains of the cow it came from. I gagged at the smell, allowing the gun to slip from my grasp.

*BANG*

I felt my other rear leg jerk backwards.

FU-UH-UCK! Crosshair screamed pitifully.

Ok for realsies, that was an accident! I thought panickedly.

Was it though? I’m starting to think you’re enjoying this, you sick fuck.

I ignored the voice, picking up the pistol and trying to get a read on where my attackers were. I felt the foam being disturbed, and it seemed to be off to the right. Throwing caution to the wind. I blindly aimed in that direction and started firing. The sharp crack of the pistol drew forth a similar response from the scavengers. Though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, it felt like hours passed as we continuously exchanged fire.

I saw a slight discoloration in the foam in front of me. I whipped the pistol about, pushed it as far forward as I could, and emptied the rest of the magazine. The sound of pinging metal resounded around the room, immediately followed by a high-pitched whizzing sound as the bullet ricocheted and-

OW-H-OOOWWW! Crosshair moaned as the bullet bit into my shoulder.

“This really isn’t our day,” I said aloud.

Just as the words left my mouth, a thick, metal-clad foreleg reached into the foam, yanked me out, and slammed me onto a dry patch of floor. I stared blearily up at the armored Riveter, a slight dent in his welder’s helmet where I’d just shot him.

“Nah,” he said, muffled slightly by the face mask. “It really ain’t.” The barrel of his machine gun pressed against my cheek. The skin where it made contact began to hiss quietly from the heat of the barrel, but I guess Crosshair didn’t notice in the face of the bucket of bullets peppered across his flesh.

“Enough is enough,” Whiskey growled beside us, trying to catch his breath. “I have had it with these li’l games o’ yours. This ends now!”

“I’m actually a fan of games, let’s keep playing games,” I said quickly, trying desperately to find yet another way out of this. “You guys like Dragon Pit? I think I got the board around here somewhere, let me just head to the rec room real quick and I’ll-”

“SHUT! UP!” Whiskey shouted before emptying one of his shotgun barrels into my foreleg.

Crosshair’s… flesh… shield (ew) blew apart in a shower of buckshot, exposing my real leg to the open air. The surviving strands of bloody gore melted into that same purple ichor that had dripped from the bullet wound. A few bits of the blast made it past Crosshair’s skin and bit into my own leg, sending a lance of burning pain up the limb.

I hissed through gritted teeth at the sensation.

Y-you don’t get to fuckin’ complain, Crosshair said weakly, apparently unphased at the loss of his own limb.

Suffering is relative, I thought back. Just because you’re in more pain doesn’t invalidate my own feelings.

F-fuck you.

Fair enough.

“Any last words?” Whiskey said darkly, cracking open his shotgun and taking an overly-dramatic amount of time reloading the barrels.

“Would an ‘I’m sorry’ make any difference at this point?” I asked.

The older stallion sneered, “I almost respect the effort, but no.” He whipped the shotgun upward, closing it with a practiced ease that lent a certain finality to the discussion.

My heartbeat, once waylaid to the furthest part of my consciousness, drummed against my ears like a marching band. That familiar, ever present fear for survival kicked in. I didn't want to die, especially not like this. No living thing really wants to die, it’s instinct. But in my case, was that really for the best?

After everything I’d been through, the triviality of it was almost fitting. I hadn’t been a good pony, not even close. I’d tried to do good, and that had only ever made things go from kind of fucked up, to apocalyptically fucked up. My whole life pointed to the fact that I’d never been meant to do anything great, the world would have been better off if I’d just never set hoof on it. Maybe some are born for greatness and heroism, others for banality, and others still meant to be the antagonists of somepony else’s story. Maybe that’s just how the game of life worked.

Maybe it was just a run of bad luck.

Or maybe the game was rigged from the start, Koe said.

Stop talking, I’m trying to think happy thoughts.

“Say your prayers, motherfucker,” Whiskey hissed. Pressing the shotgun against my cheek.

“Mother… fucker?” I said quietly to myself. “... ew.”

An alarm started to blare from the loudspeakers. The loud, piercing note instantly drew all of our attention to the source. In almost comical unison, we cocked our heads and glanced back at each other.

“What is this?” Whiskey asked, adding more pressure to the barrel pressed against my face.

“I really wish I could tell you,” I answered quickly. “Then I’d know if this was good for me or not.”

The elder stallion glanced at Riveter, “Get out there and find out what’s goin’ on, I’ll finish up here.”

“You got it, Boss,” Riveter said before working the action on his machine gun and moving toward the exit.

He got about ten paces away before the sound of snapping wood made him pause. Slowly the armored stallion turned and stared directly behind us.

“What in the hell’re you doin’, son?” Whiskey asked.

“Th-th-the m-m-m-” Riveter stuttered, his armor rattling as he started to shake. Fear infused his tone as he pointed a hoof in the direction he was staring. “M-m-mannequins.”

“Wha-” Whiskey began, then followed Riveter’s gaze. The pressure from the gun slackened, and I was able to look over as well.

For the first time since I’d arrived, I finally laid eyes on my adopted family again. There was an industrial wood chipper in the Stable, probably left here to break down any old or useless items down into a form that could be more easily used in a recycling spell. It lay at the back of maintenance, and that was apparently where these two had stored everypony. Dozens of painted, white statues were lined up along the far wall. Their colors and cutiemarks all aligning with the ponies locked away in my memories.

Whether my creation of these things was from my own loneliness or a desire to repent for the taking of the lives they represented, I wasn’t entirely sure. In the back of my mind I knew they weren’t really alive. Maybe I should be relieved because of that, but that could just be how all insane ponies behave. Pretend the hallucinations are real, because it’s easier than coming to terms with why our minds created them in the first place. I don’t know, I didn’t much like reading about psychology. It made me… uncomfortable.

What made me infinitely more uncomfortable was seeing the self-made physical manifestations of my delusions looking right at us.

The mannequins had broken free of their wooden stands. The sloppy paint jobs I’d given them were now streaked through with glowing blue lines. I recognized the patterns as some kind of enchantment, and the basic premise of its purpose was becoming frighteningly clear. The group walked in unison, their limbs moving in a disconcertingly unnatural way. Like a group of marionettes held by a professional, but possibly drunk puppetmaster. Almost pony-like, but just different enough to be uncanny.

Whiskey swiftly redirected his shotgun at the advancing group of mannequins. “Wh-what in Tartarus is this, freak?” he stuttered.

“So you two are seeing this too?” I answered, keeping my eyes locked on the advancing force. “That’s good, for a second there I thought I was going crazy.”

… bruh.

Whiskey never took his eyes off the mannequins, instead letting out a snarl before unloading both barrels into them.

The mannequin I had painted like Pike took the brunt of the buckshot. Chunks of him blew apart in a shower of splinters and ripped fabric. My heart sank and I had to suppress a wild urge to lash out at Whiskey, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t really watching my brother die again.

I’m not incredibly persuasive.

“Stop!” I said desperately as the deep maroon statue blew apart. I struggled against the older stallion, but a swift strike from the butt of his shotgun corrected that behavior. Crosshair seemed to absorb most of the blow, but it was still enough to knock my skull and get my vision swimming.

Other than that, Whiskey ignored me. “What’n the hell’re you waitin’ for?” he shouted at Riveter. “Shoot these fuckin’ things.”

That seemed to snap the armored pony out of his stupor as he shook himself off and levelled the machine gun. The rapid barrage of bullets tore through the advancing line, the swift flashes of light briefly illuminating the carnage befalling my family like a horrifying stop-motion animation.

“No,” I croaked pitifully, trying to clear the fog in my head. I could only watch as the mannequins were torn apart.

This place had been my sanctuary, the books my distraction, but these ponies had been my salvation. It was all well enough to lock myself away. To protect the remnants of my mind from the toxic relationship the wasteland and I shared. One I knew would only have us destroy each other. But that wasn’t enough. Between the shadows of my past and Koe’s constant jeering, what little remained of myself had been unwinding at a blistering pace. The books had just been a band-aid on a gaping wound in my mind, stemming the bleeding but doing little toward its healing. I needed comfort, I needed understanding, I needed shoulders to cry on and ears to listen.

I needed forgiveness.

I knew they were just mannequins, I knew they weren’t really the ponies I’d murdered so ruthlessly, I knew they couldn’t actually absolve me of the crimes I’d committed.

But Goddess-dammit, they were my fucking mannequins!

I swept a leg under Whiskey, catching the older stallion off-guard and toppling him to the ground. He smacked into the steel floor with a grunt and I swung myself on top of him and brought my hooves down in a hammering cascade of blows.

“Fuck you!” I screamed. “You don’t get to hurt my friends, my family!”

“What’n the- fuckin’- Riveter!” Whiskey cried. “Get this psycho offa me!”

The armored stallion was oddly quiet at the request, so much so that I stopped my barrage and spared a glance toward him. Once again, he was staring at the advancing line, obviously frozen by the sight before him. Whiskey used the opportunity to wiggle out from beneath me and bring his shotgun to bear. One of his eyes was closed and bleeding, the flesh beginning to swell beneath. A pained grimace spread across his face.

“Say goodnight, freak.”

“Eraser Deployment System, activated. Witnesses found. Elimination protocols… active. We are sorry, but this is for the greater good,” a robotic, yet oddly-lifelike voice said.

Then Whiskey disintegrated.

The stallion flashed a blinding, bright blue. So bright in fact that I had to shield my eyes. A second later, the silhouette that had been Whiskey turned a deep grey, then tumbled into glowing ash, a soft ‘whumph’ sounding as his shotgun landed neatly on top of the pile.

… what? Koe deadpanned.

Silence reigned. I could even make out the muffled, panicked breathing coming from the armored stallion to my right. Riveter never took his eyes off the mannequins, not even as his final ally became an incredibly annoying cleanup issue for later.

“Where did I leave the vacuum?” I asked to nopony in particular.

That apparently absurd comment seemed to break Riveter from his shell-shocked trance. “What did you say?”

“The vacuum,” I repeated. “You know, weird sucky thing. I gotta get this cleaned up. If anypony walks through these ashes, they’re gonna get everywhere. I also might forget. I find it’s best to get any cleaning out of the way while it’s fresh in your mind.”

“You… I-” Riveter stammered, but was cut off by somepony behind me.

“Witness disposed of,” the voice said. “Scanning… witness not found in Stable registry. Possible intruder. Creation of cover story for death… unnecessary.”

Slowly I turned around, finding the surviving mannequins not ten feet away from us. A blue glow surrounded the splinters of those that had been destroyed. They zipped across the room, meeting with their fellows and beginning to reconstruct themselves until the entire ensemble stood before us once again. Not dissimilar to the repair spell I’d used to reconstruct Pike earlier.

‘Pike’ reformed first, then took a step forward. “Scanning, two more witnesses detected.”

“F-fuck you!” Riveter shouted, bringing his machinegun to bear once again. He only got a few shots off before a dozen beams of blue light engulfed him. The more reflective pieces of his metal armor dispersed some of the shots, but those that hit melted through the dull steel like butter. The molten metal began warping and dripping inward onto the flesh beneath

Riveter shrieked.

The stallion fell to the ground, futilely trying to rip the armor off, but the steel swiftly began fusing to his skin. Another stream of deadly light crashed into the thrashing scavenger, further melting his armor into a horrifying cocoon of molten slag. As the welder’s helmet liquefied, I got one clear look at the terrified stallion’s pleading gaze begging for help, but by that point the metal had dripped onto his mouth and his screams were cut off.

One final beam contacted his flesh, and he mercifully joined Whiskey as another pile of dust on the floor.

The silence that followed wasn’t allowed quite the same dramatic length of time as the last. I turned back toward the mannequins, wide-eyed and unable to move.

Kid, Koe said, a drip of worry in his voice.

“Scanning,” ‘Pike’ said again, his gaze still locked onto Riveter’s ash pile. “Witness not found in Stable registry. Possible intruder. Creation of cover story for death… unnecessary.”

I took one hesitant step forward.

KID, Koe repeated, this time more urgently. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!

I couldn’t help myself. For so long I’d agonized over my final day with Pike. The sacrifice he’d so unflinchingly given, and the promises I’d made because of it. He’d died thinking that I would be roaming the wasteland, wiping out evil and protecting the innocent. He wanted to see my dream realized, and had given his life in return for me protecting thousands of others.

Pike died to make me a hero, and that very dream had died alongside every innocent life I’d taken.

It was one thing to be around the mannequin, playing pretend as we had that one glorious, blessed day. But seeing that same rust red of his coat on an actual moving, speaking pony brought every ounce of guilt crashing against me, battering my better judgement into submission and driving me forward.

“P-Pike,” I stuttered breathily, feeling just like that helpless colt again. “P-Pike… it’s me, Venture.”

My brother whipped toward me. “Scanning,” it repeated.

“Pike I-” the words caught in my throat, a stinging at the corner of my eye threatening tears. “I-I’m so sorry.” An icicle had been rammed into my heart, wrenching back and forth at every moment I was in his presence. There was so much I needed to say. So much I needed him to hear. The world fell away as I shakily stepped forward, bringing me right up to my brother. The crashing wave of emotion urged me to throw my hooves around him and hug as tightly as I could.

“I’m so sorry, big brother,” I sobbed, the tears starting to pour freely. “I’m so sorry. I failed you, I failed everypony. You sacrificed yourself so I could help others. I promised to be good, I promised you I’d be a hero, but- but I-” I wept against his chest. “I- I tr- tried so hard. I wanted to keep my promise. I wanted to be the hero you thought I could be, but-” I buried my face against the felt of his chest. “I-I’m sorry, p-please forgive me.”

“Witness detected,” ‘Pike’ said.

VENTURE! Koe screamed. HE’S GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!

I didn’t move at first, letting that thought clash with the tempest in my heart, “... I know.”

My vision exploded in a flash of blue light. A wash of searing heat danced across my skin. I readied myself, finally feeling like I was ready to face this final judgement, letting Pike have the justice he sorely deserved. Even as far removed as this was, it would have to be enough to satisfy my conscience.

Thank Celestia, Crosshair said in a breathy sigh of relief.

It felt like something slipped off the top of my brain. Like a headache numbing in the wake of an ice pack laid across your skull. The heat dissipated and the flesh armor that had been Crosshair crumbled into a powdery ash, finally giving the torched, resurrected, and bullet-ridden scavenger the sweet release of death. At least until he enters that void again, that won’t be great.

But I was still alive.

Goddess-dammit.

Ok, that was fun. But this is happening now, Koe said.

What are you talking ab- I began, but was cut off when my body started to move on its own. I released my brother from the embrace and turned back toward the entrance, trudging through the piles of fire-foam.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING! I shouted… mentally.

Saving your sorry ass, what does it look like?

You… don’t… control me! I snapped, pulling against the sensation. You… can’t-

Did you forget already? Your emotional low points give me more control, Koe said, sounding oddly analytical. Turns out trying to commit suicide by hugging a magic robot you’ve got painted up like your shish-kebabed older brother whilst staring down a DJ PON-3 rave’s worth of death lasers is PRETTY FUCKING LOW!

“Scanning,” ‘Pike’ said, looking me over.

“I- but- but Pike-”

IT’S! A! FUCKING! MANNEQUIN! ONE THAT IS TRYING TO KILL YOU, DIPSHIT!

“You’re-” I gasped, feeling a small bit of reason return to me, “you’re right. Goddess-dammit, you’re right.”

No doi.

I took back control from Koe. For what seemed to be one of rare moments in our beleaguered, lifelong partnership, we actually agreed upon our course of action. My legs moved unsteadily at first, but soon moved into a slow gallop toward the exit.

Then I realized just how difficult the foam was to move through. It felt like wading through very watery mud, and the subtle stinging at my wounds didn’t exactly settle my mind about the chemical’s toxicity.

“Stable resident detected,” ‘Pike’ said. “Overmare Venture Forth identified.”

Pfft, Overmare, Koe giggled.

Shut it, I thought back. Wait, maybe this means they won’t attack me. I mean I am the… Overmare.

Teehee

Quiet. This might be good. Whatever may have set them off may not effect-

“Cover story for Overmare’s disappearance, ratified. Prime directive takes precedence over any individual resident’s survival. Apologies, Overmare Venture. Continuing with elimination protocols.”

Well shit.

A piercing beam of blue flashed across my shoulder, forcing me to dive into the foam as I had just minutes before. I zig-zagged through the camouflage, trying to break the line of sight of the… Celestia-almighty I guess they weren’t mannequins. So what did I call them? Kill-bots? Eh, too basic. Fashion-flambee-ers? Too hard to spell.

Designer disintegrators? Koe suggested.

That’s… pretty good.

Dee-dees for short.

I shook my head, Stop having good ideas, I want to keep hating you.

And that shake of the head narrowly saved my skin as the next beam flashed eerily close. But I was nowhere near where I'd first entered the foam. It was almost like… like they didn’t need to see me.

Double shit.

Abandoning my plan of hiding, I sprinted forward. Or at least sprinted as well as I could.

It wasn’t impossible to move, but very annoying. Like getting stuck in a pile of pillows and blankets once you’ve tangled yourself up in them while you slept. Except my inability to escape this pile of pillows meant being disintegrated. I started to pick up speed, the entrance so tantalizingly close.

Another cascade of beams blasted in front of me, singeing the ends of my mane and wreaking with the scent of burning ozone. The resulting smoke stung my eye, but I could still barely see the outline of the exit. The power was out, but I could just make out the emergency release mounted like a bulkhead wheel on the steel door.

“Please stop resisting, Overmare,” ‘Pike' called from behind me. “Your death will be significantly less painful if you do.”

“Tempting offer,” I wheezed as I threw my hooves around the emergency release and heaved. “But… I’m afraid… I’m gonna have to… pass.” With a creak the wheel spun free, sliding open the door and freeing me from the confines of the maintenance wing.

I tumbled outside, allowing myself a quick sigh of relief before I continued my grand escape toward-

“Scanning,” another of the dee-dees said to my right.

My eyes grew wide with horror as I spared a glance in the voice’s direction. The entire right hallway was filled to the brim with the mannequins. The one in front was a charcoal black with a silver mane. Trim, that last stallion I’d killed in the Pit. Stuck a needle of Rage through his eye and then slit his throat. To his left was one painted a light tan with a smattering of feathers glued to its body, the griffin whose name I never got. Drowned him in a bubble of radioactive water. Behind him was a brown earth pony with a cyan mane, a mother whose skull I crushed on my first night in the Pit.

My stomach sank as another stepped into view, this one a bright yellow with a splash of green trailing down its head. A pony who had shown me more kindness in three days than I had known in my entire life. Lemon Drop began to glow, the rest following in unison as the line of dee-dees began glowing with that deadly, blue light.

Every single pony I’d ever done harm was staring me down, preparing to turn me into a pile of smoldering ash.

You know I appreciate a good ironic twist as much as the next guy, but this is a bit much.

I sighed, “Shut the fuck up Koe.”

I probably should have asked myself why a library needed so many mannequins. I mean yeah, there were a few fashion magazines, some guidebooks on fashion theory, and, of course, a copy of ‘Dazzling Diamond Diva: The Rise of Equestria’s Premier Fashionista,’ by Rarity. But teaching only a Stable population’s worth of ponies on the finer points of fashion? That would take what? Three? Maybe four mannequins?

Why had I never questioned the presence of dozens?

I wonder if this is what a rave was like? Koe asked bemusedly as I ducked a trio of lasers. The piercing whine of the beams echoed through the hall, the scent of ozone now the only scent in the air. They cut into the wall, leaving scorched patterns criss-crossing across the metal.

What?! I asked panickedly.

You know, a rave. Dark rooms, psychedelic drugs, lots of lasers and light effects. Music like smashing electric trashcan lids together.

Is this really the time?!

Uhn-ts uhn-ts uhn-ts, he began, trying to mimic some kind of electronic music. Braaap, bowowowow, wub wub wub.

“Shut up!” I screamed aloud, diving around another corner just as the hallway behind me burst into a shower of sparks and molten slag.

Ugh, fine, Koe said. So what’s the plan here, chief? We keep running until their little magic batteries die or what?

“I… I don’t know,” I said, feeling out of breath. “Might just be fucked for real this time.”

Oh come on, we’ve gotten out of tighter scrapes than this.

“I don’t even know what’s causing this!” I snapped back.

Well let’s see, you’re here, the ‘powder’ gangers are back there. So who does that leave that may have sent the army of the dead after you?

“What?” I asked.

‘Powder’ gangers, Koe answered. You know, because they got disintegrated and it's funny because it's an incredibly subtle reference to-

“Not that,” I interrupted, diving into an alcove as another burst of magical death beams fired past me, then continued my mad dash. “Are you trying to say that-”

Your favorite little kidnap victim that you happened to leave alone in the one place that controls everything, may have wanted a distraction to get away? Koe said mockingly. No, I’d never imply that.

“I… but-”

Are you really surprised about ponies trying to betray you at this point? Dude, that’s kind of sad.

“Dammit, you’re right,” I said, gritting my teeth and biting back the hurt. Of course it happened again. Why wouldn’t it? Especially seeing as how we met because I… kidnapped her and killed most of her companions. Wow, I really had been desperate for a friend. “But if we’re going to correct that little mistake, we need to get away from these things first.”

Well, seeing as how we’ve already defiled one corpse today, if you’re willing to go for one more I might have an idea.

I sighed, “We’re already going to Tartarus in a hoof basket, anyway. So, why not?”

That’s the spirit. Hang a left up here.

I followed Koe’s instructions and listened intently to his plan. I wound my way back through the Stable’s metal hallways until we reached an area that was starting to get pretty familiar.

“The medical wing?”

Do you know of another place we left a corpse today?

“Well there is-”

TODAY! I said today! Sheesh.

“Yeah,” I responded matter of factly. “We killed Tumbler today. She’s probably still in the entrance hall.”

Oh Goddess, that’s right. I completely forgot about that. Jeez, today feels like it’s been drawn out for like… two years.

“Time flies when you’re being a total piece of shit.”

I ducked inside the medical wing, spying the trail of burnt flesh from where I’d dragged Crosshair out just hours ago. My attention turned toward the other corpse in the room, a mare that had tried to rescue him. What had her name been? North Star? Not really important, but one should try to keep track of their murder victims to some degree.

Should I start a file?

That would actually be helpful, yeah.

A shuffling from outside the door marked the army of dee-dees arriving. We couldn’t even lock the door anymore since the scavengers had sawed their way in here. I had to move quickly.

My horn burst to light as I targeted the mare on the floor. A circle, one far simpler than the one I’d used to wear Crosshair’s skin, burst into existence around her. The aetheric lines glowed brightly as I pictured the spell. Then, with a final injection of power, it shattered into a cascade of shimmering blue shards. All save for seven glowing lines that attached themselves to the corpse. One to each limb, two on the back, and a final on the head. The lines trailed upward toward the ceiling, pulling taught, and then lifted the mare along with them until she appeared to be standing.

I ducked behind one of the counters, trying to look as innocuous as possible, then held out my hooves. Two cross shaped symbols appeared on my frogs, each trailing a collection of shimmering strands to the ground. I hoisted my hooves upward, and found the mare’s corpse following my movements exactly.

I always wondered what use a marionette spell would have. Now we know, corpse puppet shows!

That probably wasn’t the original intention.

And yet here we are.

The metal door slammed open and one of the dee-dees strolled inside. Its eyes locked onto the mare and glowed menacingly.

Surprising as it may sound, I did have some experience with this spell. I’d used it to try and animate the very mannequins that were trying to hunt me down and kill me. If only I’d known what they were capable of.

When I was younger, after first arriving in the Stable, I’d tried to use them to take my mind off… well everything. The marionette spell had allowed me to suspend disbelief to an extent, watching my creations walk around the Stable and conversing with them as if it weren’t an incredibly creepy and somewhat sad exercise to retain my sanity.

Who knew that playing pretend for so long would actually come in handy. Though the mare’s corpse was somewhat floppier than I was used to controlling, the movement I imbued her with was a convincing enough facsimile of a pony running that it immediately drew the dee-dees attention. I directed the mare through the crowd and out the door.

Say, what if they’re advanced enough to recognize that isn’t you?

… you’re only bringing this worry up now because…?

Eh, I mostly just wanted to see you play with another corpse. It really says something about how deep into the shit you’ve fallen when you don’t even bat an eye when I suggested it.

I hate you… so much.

I know.

The dee-dees stared after the galloping marionette for a moment, then collectively opened fire and disintegrated the corpse.

“Overmare neutralized. Proper explanation for Overmare’s disappearance delivered to the administration terminal. Elimination protocol… concluded. Continuing with prime directive.

With that, the dee-dees began to file out of the medical wing. All except for one, this one painted the light blue of Tender Heart… Grandma.

My breath caught in my throat as she looked around the medical wing. My heart hammered so loudly I was convinced that’s what tipped her off. However, instead of walking toward me, she approached the bookshelf at the back of the medical wing.

“Scanning,” the dee-dee said. “One volume unaccounted for. ‘O’rngth’kal,’ by Crafty Love.”

The book where I’d found the spell to use Crosshair’s body.

“This volume’s survival creates an acceptable control group for the prime directive. Continuing with the Eraser Deployment System.”

Oh right, that thing I’d seen listed on the administrator terminal next to the Protocol X shutdown. I guess I was finally going to find out what that was all about.

The dee-dee fired its laser in a quick line across each book shelf. After the longest second of my life, the entire shelf burst into blue flame, disintegrating every single book in the blink of an eye.

I slapped a hoof over my mouth to keep myself from screaming. In a moment, my curiosity morphed into pure terror. Eraser Deployment System. What did one do with erasers? A knife twisted in my guts and tears threatened to burst free from my eye.

Please, anything but this.

Trapped

You wear your convictions well, they suit you

Six Years Before The Destruction of The Cloud Layer

Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh shitty shitty shit FUCK!

I desperately grasped at the edge of the enormous, steel gear, futilely attempting to stop its closure. The shrieks of a thousand damned souls echoed from the screeching metal until it finally met with its frame and began to seal us in. My hooves clutched at the surface until I was given the choice of either ceasing in the useless endeavor, or losing my hooves. That silly, rational part of my brain forced me into the former.

Panting heavily, I put my back to the Stable door and slid down to the floor. A final, exasperated gasp escaped me as I pondered this latest weight laid across our predicament. Not only were we now racing against the clock to save Tumbler’s life, but also trapped inside a nigh impenetrable steel box with the psychopath that had done this to her.

“Well, at the very least,” I thought aloud, sparing a glance at the mare, “things literally cannot get any wor-”

The lights above flickered for a moment, then winked out. The resulting darkness was far more engulfing than any I’d bore witness to before. Tumbler began breathing at a panicked pace and, just before the lights were completely extinguished, I noticed her eyes grow wide in terrified recognition. She began to struggle and moan hysterically, “P-please… no…. n-not again.”

I stared at my hoof, not a foot away from my face, and couldn’t even make out an outline.

“I really need to stop… talking,” I mumbled somewhat apologetically. Although I couldn’t see her face, I imagined Tumbler was most likely offering a look of desperate agreement. “But not right now,” I finished. “Sorry, but I just think better when I do it out loud.” Instantly I interpreted another one of her hidden glances, “But I’m not crazy, swearsies.” I offered a hoof alongside the manic promise, but didn’t receive the expected reciprocation.

“That’s right, you can’t see… or move,” I deadpanned before slamming my hooves against my face. “I’m a psychologist, how am I so bad at this?”

A concerned, questioning groan escaped the impaled mare.

“Oh great! And now I’ve just admitted to the only mare that needs one, that I’m not a real- I mean medical doctor,” I espoused exasperatedly. “Great, just peachy Crescent! Why don’t you just put her out of her misery yourself? Oh…” I trailed off.

A panicked gurgle emanated from Tumbler as a quiet squelching marked her struggle against the rebar spearing her.

“I didn’t mean it!” I cried. “I’m just, you know, not… very good at… my job.” I sighed, “I should be focussing on keeping you calm, not on myself. Ok, I can do that.”

I rummaged through my saddlebags, carefully pushing aside the array of healing potions. Despite the fact that I wasn’t exactly educated in medicine, I did at least have enough common sense to realize that attempting to heal the mare before the rebar was removed was not the best idea. Finally, nestled near the bottom of the sack, I withdrew one of my three precious doses of Med-X.

The long, steel syringe felt cool against my teeth, and I was at least somewhat thankful I couldn’t see the needle. Shots were just another one of the numerous fears that I had never been able to overcome.

“ ‘is ‘hould dull the ‘ain a ‘it,” I stated muffedly. I fumbled around the space until I felt warm, yet not nearly warm enough, flesh under-hoof. Taking a deep breath, I jammed the needle in. Tumbler stiffened, a pained gurgle escaping her throat, then fell limp as the painkiller rapidly spread itself through her system.

“There we go, finally doing something right,” I announced happily.

“Mmmuuhh huh,” the impaled mare mumbled weakly.

“Well, seeing as how we have some time to kill… uh,” I stopped myself. “I mean, now that it’s just the two of us, how about a story?” Stories were a fantastic method of provoking trust from a patient. Just like any relationship, personal tales built bridges of trust, and the more relatable it was only further reinforced them. But that usually took place in an office, a controlled and safe environment. For an impaled mare slowly creeping toward death and trapped in an impenetrable steel box, I was going to need one holy hell of a relatable story

“So, how about… uh…” I started drawing a blank, desperately wracking my mind for one that would be personal enough to start building a rapport with Tumbler, but vague enough to keep my true origins hidden. Although…

“Say, how likely would you guess it is that you’ll remember this conversation?”

“Abawwaahh?” Tumbler moaned.

“Perfect,” I responded, slightly more confident. I did have a story in mind, one that was fresh and personal enough for me to tell for Goddess knows how many hours. It wasn’t exactly a joyous tale with a satisfying and triumphant conclusion, in fact right now it didn’t even have an ending. Just a seemingly unending tirade of gut-wrenching horrors and the inequinity so rampant throughout this land.

“How about I tell you the story of my first day in the Wasteland?”

“Fis dah in wassabuhn?”

“Exactly.”

~~~~~

“Welcome to the Wasteland, Doc,” Mistglider said jokingly as she pulled me back to my hooves.

The green, slimy remains of the attacking creature began dripping off my coat and splattering against the ground. I raised one of my forelegs, looking on in disgust at the bile-like rainfall. “Wh-what in Celestia’s name was that?”

“Mole rat,” the Sergeant said simply. “Nasty lil critters. Hard as shit to detect too. I’ve seen swarms of ‘em burst outta the ground and take down full squads. Those fangs o’ theirs ain’t nothin’ to scoff at, even in power armor. Guess we’re lucky it was just the one, but we’d be smart to keep an eye out for more. They usually like to hunt in packs.”

I barely registered Mistglider’s explanation, my mind entirely dominated by a single desire, “Any likelihood that I can take a shower?”

The Sergeant chuckled, “Sure, and hey while you’re takin’ a nice, hot, luxurious shower, we’ll prepare the traditional five-course feast. We do it every deployment.”

“You’re mocking me,” I deadpanned.

She continued laughing as she rummaged through a nearby saddlebag, then tossed me a small package. It was the usual dark grey, completely non-ornamental packaging of military gear. In simple, black lettering, it identified itself as ‘Sanitary Wipes.’ “That’s ‘bout as good you’re gonna get. Say hello to military life, Doc. Ain’t exactly a vacation.”

I sighed, “Is there at least somewhere I can go for a little privacy?”

Mistglider rolled her eyes, “Hop back in the Verticbuck, I promise we won’t peak. However, I recommend trying to overcome your sense of decorum. When it’s just the six of us against the world, we’re gonna have to get real close if you wanna survive. ‘Cause I can guarantee that a group o’ raiders ain’t gonna respect your modesty, or hesitate to take a bite outta that cute lil ass o’ yours.”

“Well, at least they have good taste,” I jibed.

“I was speakin’ literally.”

“Of course you were,” I responded before climbing back inside the transport. The sliding doors hissed shut behind me, and I took a shaky breath before the tears started to fall. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I opined quietly, gentle sobs interrupting my speech. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I CAN’T!”

I collapsed onto the floor with a wet plop. The tears cut clean lines through the goop still clinging to me as the first of what I assumed to be many mental breakdowns raked across me. My teeth chattered relentlessly as I wept. “What the fuck was I thinking? I just had to be the big hero, when I could be nice and comfortable back in Thunderhead. Now all I'm going to do is die down here. Why was I so stupid? Stupid. Stupid,” I growled through clenched teeth, punctuating every ‘stupid’ by slamming my head against the steel floor.

A soft thunk cut through my muted cries. I blearily opened my eyes to see a folded piece of paper lying in the green puddle dripping off of me. My eyes widened and I instantly snatched it before it could become too saturated in the molerat jello. It must have been stowed away in my jacket pocket, but I didn’t remember taking it. I slowly unfurled the parchment, finding a letter scrawled within:

Our Dearest Daughter,

We hope this message finds you well. I know how much you hate us treating you like our little filly, but we just couldn’t let you go without imparting some measure of our love that you can take with you.

You know how much your mother and I worry, but that’s not the reason for this letter. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. No matter how much our hearts break knowing you’ve put yourself into such life-threatening peril, it can’t even compare to how proud we are of you. You were never one for military life, but similarly never content to remain safely at home. The drive and passion that has led you through this life has always been such a source of inspiration for us all. I know nothing we could have said would have stopped you from taking on this burden, to reunite us with our fellow Equestrians on the ground. So many echo the sentiment, but few could ever put their own lives at risk to build that future.

You have singlehoofedly put into motion a movement that will change everything. No longer will our leaders be able to ignore the denizens of the Wasteland. Action will finally have to be taken, our people will become one again, and it will all be thanks to you.

We pray every day for your safe return. Remember that you are always in our hearts, and words cannot express how honored we are to be your parents.

Love you now and forever,
Mom and Dad

P.S Hey, it’s Gibbous. Dad wanted me to write something to you. So if you’re going to die on this ridiculous suicide mission, at least make sure you don't embarrass the family in the process.

Cordially,
Gibbous

P.P.S Don’t take your brother too seriously, you know how he is. He loves you too.

Goddess-dammit, the goal was to stop crying.

The flow only redoubled as I absorbed the loving words. Damp spots sprouted across the page before I hugged it close, desperately wanting those who’d penned the letter to feel the embrace. Had I said enough before departing? Had I truly let them know how deeply I loved them? Had I given a proper goodbye?

No, not goodbye. I would see them again.

I shakily brought myself back to my hooves and confidently wiped the tears from my eyes… then immediately regretted it as I only succeeded in smearing more of the green goop against my face. After a good round of sputtering and hacking the vile slime, I glanced once more at the letter, folded it carefully, and stowed it away in my saddlebags.

My family believed in me, and these soldiers had vowed to help make sure this operation succeeded, regardless of their own beliefs in its potential efficacy. The only roadblock stopping this mission from succeeding was my own confidence, and I would be damned if my family’s faith and the lives of Trojan squad would be wasted because of my cowardice. Now it was high time to grow up, and finally commit myself wholeheartedly to the cause that had led me to this hellscape to begin with.

But first, I desperately needed to clean myself.

I began peeling away the soiled, thick canvas barding and tossing the bits aside with wet plops. The package of sanitary wipes opened easily enough, and I was pleasantly surprised at the scent that wafted up from them, “Mmm, lavender.” So I guess military life wasn’t all business.

The damp pieces of cloth easily cleared the gunk away, revealing the vibrant, deep blue of my coat. As I worked down my flanks, a brilliant sliver of white began to shine through. A soft smile graced my lips as I took in the image of a waxing crescent moon lain over a field of twinkling, purple and white stars. Some had told me that my cutie mark was not dissimilar from that of the great Princess Luna herself. Although I was somewhat certain the meaning behind them varied quite widely. Otherwise I was doing a pretty crappy job of controlling the moon.

The marks were such a fascinating field of study, their contexts spanning across the entire philosophical spectrum. Some were incredibly esoteric in their connotations, signifying a powerful strength yet to be discovered, a world-altering destiny, or even overcoming a deep inner struggle that shaped oneself into the pony they were always meant to be.

And sometimes ponies were just good at knocking apples out of trees. It didn’t always have to complicated.

Personally I felt that, in the path I had chosen, my mark signified my ability to provide ponies with a new beginning. It was, afterall, the first phase of a moon following it fading from existence. A new moon was often seen as the extinguishing of hope, plunging the night into true darkness. However, I always believed it more the dawning of a new cycle, a fresh start for anypony that happened to cast their gaze skyward into the brilliant night. That assurance in the interpretation of my cutie mark was what had blazed my trail toward this final goal. I was to give the denizens of the Wasteland their new beginning.

My whimsical daydream was cut short as I felt some of the mole-rat soup trail down around my tail and toward…

I let out a disgusted whine and shuddered as I hesitantly inched a new sanitary wipe between my rear legs.

“Why me?”

The doors of the Vertibuck slid back open as I reemerged. The members of Trojan squad had begun dutifully clearing the area and setting up our base camp. Several tan, auto-deploying tents were tactically dispersed around the area, camouflaged amongst the rocky crags and sand dunes within the small canyon. A mare, Hertz if I recalled correctly, was busily setting up an array of complicated-looking steel boxes and antennas. The pilot, Steelwing, had exited the cockpit and was checking over every inch of our dual-rotored aircraft in an apparent post-flight check. He was the only member of the squad, aside from myself, not clad in the black, scorpion-esque power armor. Instead wearing deep gray fatigues and a matching cap.

Mistglider was circling overhead, apparently keeping watch for any incoming threats. She glanced down as I exited and swooped in to land right next to me. “All cleaned up I see,” the Sergeant praised sarcastically. “Lookin’ like that, I’m sure you’ll be the bell of the Wasteland ball.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” I stated, smiling knowingly at the mare.

“Well Luna yank my tail and call me sweet-ass, seems like you’re finally catching on,” she chuckled, then suddenly turned serious. “So, now that introductions are out o’ the way, let’s talk strategy. You already know what’s expected of ya, no wanderin’ off on your own, no excursions until we’ve mapped out the route first, no contact with anypony we meet with until we’ve cleared them first, and anythin’ I say goes. Far as I’m concerned, you’re under my command until we’re all safe and cozy back in Thunderhead. Understood?”

I nodded and did my best to snap a salute, “I am at your command, mon capitaine.”

“Don’t do that,” the Sergeant said sternly.

I smiled sheepishly, “Just trying to get into the swing of things.”

“Don’t do anythin’ outrageously stupid and I think we’ll be fine,” Mistglider reprimanded before extending her wings and lifting off again. “We’ll be makin’ camp here for the night, so try and get comfortable, don’t wander off, and we’ll finish up scoutin’ around. See ya, Doc.” With that she ascended once more to continue her lookout.

I sighed and removed my saddlebags, searching through the contents and triple-checking to ensure none of the slime had seeped in. Satisfied that everything was relatively dry, I took inventory of what I’d brought along. A couple of textbooks, a bundle of notepads, dozens of quills and inkwells, and a small laser pistol issued to me before I’d been allowed to leave Thunderhead. I barely understood which end made the flashy, killy beam come out, but I guess protocol took precedent over my combat experience.

Bundled up at the bottom of the bag was the one comfort item I’d been permitted to take along. A big, fuzzy, antique blanket showcasing my favorite comic book characters, the Power Ponies. The six superpowered ponies, and their puny sidekick Humdrum, all stood overlooking the cityscape of Maretropolis, illuminated by a giant skylight. It had been a gift from back when I’d been accepted into university. Pre-war artifacts, even those that only existed as a novelty like this, were some of the most valuable items one could hope to possess in the Enclave. This blanket had been passed down in my family since the pegasi had first decided to seal themselves off from the world. It seemed fitting that it should accompany me on this mission.

I quickly looked around, finding the squad were still preoccupied with their various tasks, before nuzzling my face into the faded fabric. It smelled of dust, sweat (don’t judge, I didn’t want the colors to fade in the wash), and just vaguely of pine and rain… my dad’s favorite cologne. It summoned memories of brisk evenings from my childhood, snuggled together with the retired lieutenant as we gazed up into the night sky from the roof of our home. I could almost feel the warmth of his coat on mine, the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat, and his strong forelegs holding me protectively.

Oh how I longed for those days.

A subtle movement to my right snapped me from the memory and I hurriedly stowed the blanket away, a blush of embarrassment gracing my cheeks. “Oh hi, I was just… you know… taking stock of my supplies and-” I cut myself off, seeing that the movement had not come from one of the members of Trojan squad, but instead from behind a nearby rock. My heart immediately set off at a panicked rate as I pictured a horde of mole rats bursting from burrows all around and devouring me in an instant. I scooted backward, keeping my eyes locked onto the stone and the brief glimpses of something moving behind it.

Just as I was set to call out in panic toward Trojan, a small pony’s head peaked out. I squinted my eyes, trying to get a better look at them without moving any closer. It appeared to be a young, earthpony colt. He was a dark green, with a tuft of aqua mane styled into a little mohawk. As he further emerged from the hiding spot, I noticed he was absolutely covered in dirt and grime. Scrapes all across his coat formed a crisscrossing mosaic of injury, with a long scar running the length of his stomach. He wore a look of skittish fear, and he shook with nervousness.

“H-hi there, little guy,” I said soothingly. “What’s your name?”

He said nothing, just looked at the ground and continued to shake.

I pondered whether this was worth notifying the others, but quickly banished the thought. They were obviously busy, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t at least take on a completely unarmed and defenseless colt.

Right?

I trotted slowly back toward him, “It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you.” Again he had no response, but neither did he run away. “Are you out here all alone? Where are you from?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” I said, smiling down at the colt, “you’re safe here. You can talk to me.” I laid a hoof on his shoulder, and he immediately stiffened in panic. His eyes grew wide with fear as the pupils darted around.

“My name is Doctor Crescent Harmony,” I continued. “I’m a psychologist from the Enclave. Do you know what a psychologist is?”

“H-hurts,” he groaned quietly.

“Oh no,” I responded soothingly. “I know I’m technically a ‘doctor’, but not the kind you’re thinking of. I’m not gonna try and jab you with any needles or anything like that.” I laid down in front of the colt, bringing our gazes level and attempting to make us seem more like equals instead of an adult talking down to a child. “A psychologist is somepony who treats owies that you can’t really see. If somepony is very angry or sad, and they feel like they can’t be happy again, I try to help them. I like to understand why a pony might be upset, and then come up with a way to make them feel better.”

I placed my hoof over his, “Do you think that there’s something you might want to talk to me about?”

“Hurts,” he repeated, looking back toward his side.

I cocked my head confusedly, then looked back toward his stomach. Now I could see that the long scar was fairly fresh, maybe even as recent as that day. The skin looked like it’d been cut deliberately, if a bit crudely. A sloppy stitching job had sealed the flaps of skin back together, but a red ooze still dripped from between the sutures. There was also a fairly obvious bulge just beneath the skin. “What in the world?” I said quietly.

“DOC HARMONY, GET THE FUCK BACK,” I heard Mistglider screech just before she slammed into the ground beside us, immediately about-faced, and delivered a bone-shattering buck into the colt. The child flew from the ground before smacking into the cockpit of the Vertibuck with a pained cry, leaving a red smear on the glass, then toppled to the ground on the other side.

I was caught off-guard by the sudden outburst of violence. My eyes widened, and my mouth gaped open, “What in the holy mother of fuck is wrong with-” I began, but was silenced by Mistglider slamming into me and covering my body with hers.

Immediately after, a deafening boom erupted from where the colt had landed.

It felt like the world was tearing itself apart. I briefly recalled an occasion where my dad and I had been caught out in a thunderstorm and were forced to take cover in a small clump of calm clouds.

Even that paled in comparison to the eardrum-shattering wall of force that slammed into us. Mistglider’s muscles tensed as she braced against the impact, keeping us rooted, and shielding me from the blast. After what felt like an unending storm of shrieking metal, shattering glass, and howling, otherworldly gales, silence fell back across the canyon.

I felt Mistglider’s weight slowly stand back up, then a soft nudge, “Get up, Doc.”

I hadn’t even realized that I’d sealed my eyes until I was forced to open them again. Cautiously, I stood and gazed back toward the source of the explosion. The Vertibuck was very nearly torn in half. Only a single rotor was still attached, whilst the four blades that had comprised the other were lodged in various bits of the canyon around us. A smoldering fire trailed a thick, black column into the air. Somepony was screaming.

The remaining members of Trojan squad immediately sprang into action, sprinting toward the sight of the explosion with buckets of sand and smothering blankets. Upon arriving, Hertz immediately turned back toward the others, “Steelwing’s down! Get a fucking medical kit now!”

My mind was a blur of thoughts, none of them quite able to form anything coherent, “Wh-what the… what the hell just…”

“Welcome wagon,” Mistglider stated, a subtle rage burning in her tone.

“Someone knows we’re here.”

Steelwing seemed to be slumbering peacefully, I suppose a medically induced coma was sufficient in creating that illusion.

I sat beside the stallion’s cot, staring down at him and burning every aspect of his injuries into my memory. A mosaic of scarred flesh covered the entire left side of his light gray body, the skin on his face having been almost entirely stripped down to the bone. It had required a not insignificant amount of the team’s magical bandages just to cover the most egregious wounds. Small tufts of his rust-brown mane were still intact, but it had been largely burned away. His left eye was still relatively intact, but removal of the lids necessitated an enchanted patch to seal in the moisture. The pilot’s left foreleg and wing were now nothing but shrivelled husks, mangled beyond all recognition of their original state.

He was grounded now in every sense of the word, maybe permanently. Steelwing had been robbed of performing his special talent ever again.

All of it thanks to my own stupidity.

I heard the tent flaps shuffle a bit as somepony entered. I glanced briefly over my shoulder, finding Mistglider standing by the entrance, “You ain’t doin’ nothin’ to help him just sittin’ around feelin’ sorry for yourself.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I mumbled miserably. “Steelwing’s crippled and… oh Goddess,” I moaned, all of past few hours rushing back to me in an instant. “That… that kid,” I couldn’t stem the stinging tears as they began dripping down my face. “Wh-who… wh-what kind of monster could do something like that? He was… he was just a-” my sobs broke through the sentence as I doubled over, covering my face and weeping. “This is all my fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” she replied simply.

“I guess you’re not here to try and make me feel better,” I said as my forelegs dropped and I stared forlornly at the floor.

“And why would I do somethin’ like that?” The Sergeant walked forward and took a seat beside me. With a sigh, she reached her forelegs up and undid the clasps on her power armor’s helmet. A hiss and a short burst of steam followed her removing it for the first time since we’d boarded the Vertibuck. A cascade of bright green braids tumbled out of the helmet, framing the face of a light purple pegasus with hardened eyes that matched the tone of her mane. A long scar crossed diagonally across her face, running over her left eye, and concluding at tip of her muzzle.

“I ain’t here to put a bandaid on your bleedin’ heart, Doc,” Mistglider began, her voice now free from the distortion of the helmet’s speakers. “I’m here to wake you up to the fact that your choices down here affect us all, not just you. This…” she trailed off, staring at her newly-crippled comrade, “... this was hard way to learn that. But if I’d been beaten down for every hard lesson I’d ever been forced to learn, well I would’ve bailed outta this life a long time ago.”

“You mean… you’re not mad,” I asked confusedly.

“Ain’t got the time to be,” she stated. “It’s not like you did this on purpose, and we all need to be able to rely on each other to survive down here. To an extent, I can control your unwise decisions. I can’t control raiders sending a foal-bomb right into our basecamp. So their actions are of much greater concern to me than yours. Besides, it ain’t all your fault.”

“What?”

“It ain’t all your fault,” she repeated. “If we’d managed to clear the LZ a bit better, if I’d kept a closer eye on you, if I’d been thinkin’ more than just ‘get that lil’ fucker away from the Doc asap’ and actually stopped to consider where I was kickin’ him, none of this would have happened either. We all made mistakes that led up to this. But a rookie second-guesses themselves and let’s it paralyze ‘em, a veteran learns from their mistakes and keeps movin’ forward.”

“I… thank you,” I sputtered, shocked by just how dutiful Mistglider could remain, even in the face of such a traumatizing event.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued. “I ain’t happy, and we are goin’ to have words about this. You need to understand that when I give you an order, I choose my words very carefully. I didn’t say, ‘no contact unless it’s a kid.’ I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if it’s a bunch o’ newborn bunnies, no contact means no contact. Hear me?”

“I do,” I responded, feeling my commitment to the words stirring in my gut. She was right, I had to start listening. Another blunder like this could get us all killed. I was so wrapped up in how dangerous the Wasteland was going to be, I didn’t stop to think how my actions could be just as lethal. “From this point on, I do what you say, when you say it. No exceptions.”

“Good to hear,” the Sergeant said, a bit of approval in her tone. “Because now we have a significantly more complicated situation on our hooves.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, a bit of conflicted hope seeping into my tone. ”Are… are we really going to finish the mission.”

“Normally, not a fuckin’ chance in hell,” Mistglider responded. “Were it up to me, we’d be callin’ down evac right this second. This operation might just be in the runnin’ for quickest to go from zero to tits up. The issue is that Hertz just informed me all of our communications are bein’ jammed.”

“Jammed?” I questioned.

“Someone is makin’ sure none of our transmissions are gettin’ out,” she elaborated.

“Couldn’t the equipment have just been damaged? That was pretty big blast.”

“Nope,” she responded instantly. “Listen, Doc. I hoof-picked this squad. They are the best of the best at what they do. Hertz knows radios better than anypony in the entire Goddess-damned Enclave. So if she says that everythin’s workin’ fine and someone’s jammin’ us, then I’m inclined to believe her.”

“So what does that mean?” I asked hesitantly.

“I told you, my squad are the best of the best,” she gestured at Steelwing. “Him included. These operations ain’t exactly thrown together all willy nilly. It’s months of scoutin’ and observation. Trackin’ the movements of local gangs and factions, creatin’ reports of behavioral and migratory patterns, all to ensure that we are safe as possible when we deploy. Steelwing knew the paths we were supposed to take, and he’d only deviate if it meant avoidin’ any more trouble. I trust that’s exactly what he did. It’s possible some random raider just so happened to catch sight of us landin’, and just so happened to already have a bomb stitched inside some unlucky colt, and were close enough to get him here before sepsis took him.”

Mistglider shook her head, “But combine all of that with our transmissions bein’ jammed? Doc, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m thinkin’ somepony tipped ‘em off.” She levelled her gaze at me, drilling the severity of her coming statement into the icy glare.

“Somepony back in Thunderhead wants you dead.”

~~~~~

“I couldn’t believe it, myself,” I told Tumbler, the impaled mare having fallen silent during my recitation. Don’t worry, I checked to make sure was still breathing, she was just being quiet. Maybe I’m just that enthralling of a storyteller, or maybe Med-X is a bit more heavy-hitting than I gave it credit for.

“How could somepony want to kill me? All I wanted to do was help ponies, reunite Equestria, forge a brighter future for us all. They wanted to stop all of that, and for what? Some political points? Pandering to the isolationists who just want to wait for the world below to die out before we start anew?” I spat, disgusted at the idea. “How could anyone be that heartless?”

“Hambwaaah?” Tumbler mumbled exhaustively. Then she let out a pained whine.

“Oh no,” I said worriedly. “Is the medicine wearing off? I don’t know, is it too soon to give you another dose? BAAH! Why can’t Wasteland medicine come with instructions? It’s so irresponsible! Don’t they understand that accidental overdoses account for almost as many deaths as the sicknesses their meant to cu-”

“MMMMM!” Tumbler cried tortuously. Yep, medicine was definitely wearing off.

“Alright, alright,” I acquiesced, withdrawing a second syringe and clutching it in my teeth. “Le’s ge’ you ‘ome ‘ore.”

Just as the needle was about to pierce the wounded mare’s flesh, a hail of loud booms and cracks echoed through the Stable’s halls. I yelped, dropping the syringe and wincing as I heard it shatter against the steel floor.

Tumbler immediately began to panic, tugging and pulling at the rebar. That is until she started screaming out as it wriggled throughout her body. Though I couldn’t see, I did feel a splash of something hot and wet spurt against my coat.

“Oh fuck!” I cried before rushing to the mare’s side. “It’s ok, it’s ok. We just need to calm down now. Everything’s fine. I’m sure the others just found the pony that did this to you and now they’re taking care of it.” I grabbed the final syringe. “Le’s ‘ust ge’ ‘his i’ you an-”

Another scream crashed against my ears, this one from further in the Stable. But not a stallion’s like the voice on the intercom, it was another mare. Soon a stallion’s cries did join the first, then another. Soon a chorus of tortured wailing was passing through the halls, underscored with the blunt thumps of gunfire. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the orchestra of death fell quiet.

“Oh ‘uck,” I swore again.