The Craziesby SkelePoneChaptersPrologue: Scabs1: Ponyville Community Hospital 2: The Not-So-Great EscapePrologue: ScabsSkelePone (Felix Aberg & Lief Mason) presents THE CRAZIES PROLOGUE: SCABS “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” ― Dr. Seuss It was a skin condition, they had said. One that would leave me disfigured for life. Of course, I was only a colt. I had no idea what it meant to be disfigured. And the idea of being like that for a lifetime was unimaginable. All I knew was that I had these... scabs. Terribly itchy, flaky, red scabs. All over my body; clumping up my coat and my mane. Mostly the scabs were speckled around my hooves where they would burst open painfully if they weren’t adequately kept. My hooves were already bandaged on that first appointment with the doctors at Ponyville Community Hospital. I was only a foal, so I didn’t really mind having the bandages on. I thought it was cool, even. I kind of thought I looked like an ancient mummy. I can remember that first appointment vaguely. Almost like it was yesterday. I’m sitting in the big hospital play area, with a few little fillies getting their check-ups. We're chatting together about who-knows-what, playing with the wood-carved animals and the building blocks that had been there since I was a newborn. I end up making friends with them. They say my bandages look cool, so I let them take a crayon and draw their cutie marks on them. It's something I had started doing back when I was still in school. Unfortunately, their mother takes one look at me and calls the fillies away from me with something almost like disgust in her voice. I shrug it off. Maybe the mother just needed them for something. They’d be back soon enough. “Salmon, come on. Doctor Gross is ready to see you.” My mother, Fishnets, calls to me from across the waiting room. Yes my name is Salmon. I was named after the light shade of pink that my coat was. Also, it’s a pretty witty pun. You see, my parents are fisherponies. Nopony really eats fish in Ponyville, but they still fish for making pet food and for sport, or whatever reason one can think of. So naming their pink colt ‘Salmon’ was too good of an idea to pass up. I kind of like the name anyways. At least I wasn’t named Pinkie or something stupid like that. How embarrassing would that be. I follow my mother and a pretty nurse mare down the long hospital hallways. The lights flicker eerily. But I'm used to it. I've already been to the hospital more times than I can count. They lead me into a room, and there's a doctor there. I've met him before, Doctor Gross. He's a large unicorn stallion with a white mane and a light blue coat. Over it, he wears a funny looking collared shirt with a stethoscope over that. When I get settled onto the outrageously uncomfortable counter, the doctor carefully removes my bandages. I admit I whined a bit. It hurt to have the bandages removed. Mostly because the scabs would tug at them and sometimes get ripped off. Ouch. “Ah yes,” the doctor says to my mother, “See here? The coat is already starting to fall out where the scabs form; and constant bandaging and removal not only causes intense pain, but it seems to quicken the spread.” “Isn’t there anything we can do? A spell? A potion?” My mother pleads. I don’t take notice at her desperate tone. I was too busy looking at the scabs on my hooves. They had already healed over, now nothing but hard red slabs of yuck. I notice I can see some of my bare skin. I shrug that off, too. Hair grows back. And the scabs were so fascinating to my young mind that I could care less about some missing hair. “I’m afraid not, Missus Nets. Salmon here will have to live with these abscesses for the rest of his life. However long that may be.” “W-What do you mean, doctor?” “You see, Salmon’s life span is halved. It’s just simply too much strain on his developing body to have to constantly heal itself like it does. And his lack of a coat, or soon to be lack of a coat… Well... let's just say that exposure to the elements and enhanced risk of infection and disease won’t help his chances.” “B-Bu…” “I’m sorry, ma’am," Doctor Gross says as he shakes his head dejectedly, "But unfortunately, it’s terminal. He’ll live to stallionhood. I'm not sure how much longer he’ll have after that.” I hum to myself; a little song from my favorite television show. I wish I was back at home watching it. This conversation was getting pretty boring. “Mommy,” I say, tugging at my mother’s mane gently. I can barely grab onto anything with my hooves when they’re not bandaged. It just hurts too much for them to be bare. “When are we going home?” My mother looks to me with tears in her blue eyes, staring deeply into my own purple ones. She turns away, stifling a sob as she glanced expectantly at the doctor. I’m confused. Did I say something wrong? Maybe today was just a sad day. Doctor Gross shakes his head. “I wouldn’t recommend him returning home with you. He's already exhibiting a few irreversible symptoms. In my professional opinion, I’d leave him to the permanent ward here at the hospital. He’ll be safe from contamination and he’ll be able to live his maximum expected lifespan.” “A-Are you sure it’s… it’s for the best?” Doctor Gross nods. I yawn. I really wanted to go to bed. It had been a long day. “It’s our only choice, ma'am. It's too risky to let him remain outside of twenty-four seven care.” I was left at the hospital. I was so excited, it was like a sleepover. But without any noisy foals keeping you awake all night long and with a nice nurse mare who’d get you water and help you adjust your bandages if they felt uncomfortable. I kind of liked the hospital. One week later... I had been informed I was to stay at the hospital for a long, long time. I didn’t know what to do. I cried, sure. My mom visited me every day. My dad, not so much. He was so busy, my mom would say. He can’t find time to visit. Later, I’d learn the truth. My father and mother had divorced, and my mother didn’t want me to go through the pain of losing him forever. Life in the hospital was simple enough. Eat, sleep. Sometimes go out to the rec room and make some friends. But my friends were always getting discharged or transferred to new hospitals. Then I’d be left alone once again, with nothing but the hospital staff and my scabs to keep me company. The only pony who remained with me through the entirety of my colthood was a peculiar filly named Screwloose. Well, in all honesty, I don’t think that was her name. But everypony who was a patient earned a nickname. She was called Screwloose because she was the only permanent psycho ward patient. She apparently thought she was a dog. Which was funny and cool for the first day or so. Then it just got annoying. Enough about her. I’ll save Screwloose’s story for another day. Now, I want to go along my affliction’s development. First, the hair around my legs fell out completely. The doctors said that ninety-nine percent of my coat on my legs had fallen out. I lost the hair on my flanks as well. If I ever got my cutie mark, I would never know. Without a coat for the mark to appear on, I’d be markless for life. That depressed me more than the actual hair loss. Imagine it. Waking up one day to learn that you'll never truly learn what your special talent was. It sort of made the whole 'I'm dying' thing that much more realistic to me. The hair loss continued; I lost my mane after my tenth birthday. Some of it even fell into the birthday cake. Pretty gross, even to me. It didn’t really matter though; Screwloose ate it all anyway. Before my twelfth birthday, a scab had formed over my left eyelid, closing it completely. I was taken into emergency surgery in a desperate attempt to save it, but it was useless. The scab just kept growing back. So they just covered it in a bandage and gave me a special spell developed by some filly over at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The spell was good, I suppose, it let me still have depth perception in my one working eye. Not that I cared. I wanted two eyes again. Ponies began to toy around with my patient nickname. Cyclops. One Eye. Stereotypical names that made me feel like I was nothing but a freak. Of course, none of them ever stuck. My entire head was eventually bandaged. Besides my right eye, of course. I preferred to keep my muzzle tied shut. It gave me an excuse to keep quiet; I had grown a lot more withdrawn in my teenage years. My hindquarters were entirely bandaged up, with a hole for my tail. My purple tail had surprisingly survived my hair loss stage. The only other place on my body with any hair at all still was my belly and some of my back, as well as a patch of fur around my right eye. And those were the only patches of coat you could still see on me; everything else was nothing but bare skin. Mottled red and flesh-colored skin. My only colors were white bandages and those few patches of scruffy salmon hair. My bandages were magical, of course. I’d never have to change them, remove them. Or whatever else you do with them. The bandages were permanently clean, and they continuously disinfected my scabs. The bandages would detach from my loins and make a little window so I could use the restroom, and they could loosen around from my muzzle so I could speak, eat, and drink. Besides that, they are always hugging at my skin, keeping me warm and giving me protection from cold tables and floors and from various fluid that could give me terrible infections that would hurt like Tartarus on the rare occasions that they would crop up. Life was, in short, terrible. Until I met her. It was some time after Discord had been sealed up once again by the Elements of Harmony when a new permanent psycho ward patient was registered and dumped with the rest of the patients. Her name was Screwball, or so she said. It made sense. Kind of. Her cutie mark was literally a screw and a baseball. A screwball. I never really learned what had happened to her. I heard rumors that she had taken a plunge into pure Chaos magic. Another was that she wasn't even a pony, but something created by Discord's magic. Whatever her story was, it had given her the ability to levitate anywhere from a few centimeters to several meters off the ground. She also had some sort of ability to do things. Amazing things, miracles almost. But there was a drawback to it all. She was kind of… insane. She was the most peculiar mare I had ever met. She was creative, random, and strange. But I guess that's what I liked about her. Even if she could be a tad bit annoying or even irresponsible at times. Screwball herself was the one who gave me the nickname 'Scabby.' I didn't like the name, but it was better than 'Cyclops.' After a couple more years together, the ward began to feel more and more empty. Me, Screwloose, and Screwball were among the last permanent patients left. Ponies would come and go, but we’d be here together. Forever. We're the three musketeers. I guess, in a way. Well... no. That's not a good comparison at all. We're not some bumbling heroes. We're probably the exact opposite of honorable and brave. We're not strong. Besides Screwball maybe. We're not tough. We're just a bunch of locked-up ponies, kept away from others because we seem to disturb them. I disturb them with my appearance. Screwloose disturbs them with her behavior. Screwball is just Screwball. So no. Don't call us the three musketeers. Don't even call us heroes. Call us The Crazies. Author's Note Can't wait to get into this story. Been told it has a lot of promise. Thanks to Ponyminer64 for editing! Skelly (Felix Aberg) Scabby or 'Salmon''s story is based off of Felix's actual life story. He was unfortunately diagnosed with melanoma, which has reached his lungs. He's given me, Lief, permission to help him get down his ideas and I have promised to him that when he dies (it's been estimated he has less than a year now to live) to finish everything he's started, and maybe even make SkelePone into something more. Felix doesn't want me saying this, but this fan fiction is dedicated to the life of Felix Aberg. He might leave soon; but the name of SkelePone and the characters he's made will go on. SkelePone II (Lief Mason) 1: Ponyville Community Hospital 1: Ponyville Community Hospital SkelePone (Felix Aberg & Lief Mason) presents THE CRAZIES CHAPTER ONE PONYVILLE COMMUNITY HOSPITAL “Hope is a waking dream.” ― Aristotle "Morning, Scabsies!" A bubbly pink mare with a propeller hat on her head floated up to me. I just grunted in reply. Five months without a single word, I wasn't breaking my vow of silence for some random (take that in any way you want) mare. I barely even knew her. She barely even knew me, beyond my nickname and my appearance. 'Scabby the mummy stallion.' Ha-yuk ha-yuk ha-yuk. We were in line at the cafeteria, shuffling along between a pony who I knew was a chronic arsonist and another who was kleptomaniac. I had grabbed a carton of apple juice and a small bowl of oatmeal. And I was beyond irritated to see that the flying Earth pony mare was still following me. I decided to ignore her. Maybe she'd take a hint and go away. So I shuffled my way towards an empty table, ready to eat my breakfast in what should have been well-deserved blissful solitude. But Screwball didn't go away. She floated along right beside me, using that creepy magic whatchamacallit to keep up with me. I may be covered with bandages, but I can shuffle around pretty quickly. You learn to be fast when you have to around Screwball. I sat down, still refusing to meet the eager gaze of the silly mare floating around me. She wanted something from me. And I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it and there was no way I was giving her what she wanted. Whenever I gave in to her puppy-dog eyes, I'd immediately regret it and she'd end up causing an explosion in the mare's restroom or worse. "Scabbyyyyyyyyy..." She groaned obnoxiously into my ear. I winced my one good eye as I tightened the bandages around my muzzle and pointed an aggressive hoof at it. I wasn't talking at all today. I prayed to Celestia that Screwball would just fly away in the eerie, unnatural way that she could. But she remained, munching noisily on her breakfast burrito. I gritted my teeth below my bandages before losing my patience. I tossed my untouched meal to the floor and got up noisily. I let out a muffled growl and stormed from the cafeteria. Maybe I shouldn't have stomped my hooves so hard. I could feel the scabs around my fetlocks cracking open, dirtying my bandages. Terrific. Now I have another thing to add to my constantly growing list of problems. I'd have to run them under some water or something to freshen them again. I slammed the door to my room and made sure to lock it behind me. Of course, that was useless. "Heyyyy Scabby." I ignored the mare as she walked about, upside down on my ceiling. It was an old trick. I had seen it already countless times already. I found it effective to pretend that she was being absolutely normal. I waddle over to the sink in the corner of my room and start running cold water on my bandages. Sweet Celestia that felt good. I almost forgot for a moment that a certain somepony was still with me in my bedroom. "Scabby," her voice tickles against my ears. Screwball's right behind me, whispering into my ear. "Answer me? Please?" If I hadn't been wearing bandages, she would've been able to see a bright red blush form on my bare muzzle. But my bandages were still over my cheeks. And the only hint that I was in any way affected was my wavering expression. I could see my reflection shifting from my usual grouchy or worried expression to one that looked outrageously dreamy. I silently cursed the mare for being so freakishly cute with her little propeller hat and her swirling purple walleyes. "What do you want?" I rasped quietly, refusing to look at her. She squealed excitedly before flying over to my bed and landing in the middle, looking at me with a big, goofy smile on her face. My voice was incredibly hoarse from being unused for so long. "So I was talking to Screwloose, right? And when we were talking-" "Wait. Wait wait wait. Screwloose can't talk." I interrupted, shuffling over to sit beside her, "we both know that." "I can understand her." Screwball explained with a shrug. "What." "Just listen to what I was saying! It's imporrrrrrrtant!" "Alright, alright! Just get on with it. I don't even want to know, but I know for a fact that you won't leave me alone until I hear it. So spit it out already." "Me and Screwloose have an idea." Screwball whispered with a leering grin. A smile like that from the chaotic Earth pony mare was bad news. "An idea." "Yup!" "Okay," I said, wishing she'd just get to the point already, "and?" "And it's a good idea." I put my hoof to my face and sighed. Why do I even bother? "No no! It's a great idea!" I withstand the growing urge to roll my one good eye. Damn me to Tartarus. No. Send my flank to the moon, this was not a conversation I wanted to have. She continued to blabber on, thinking of more and more creative adjectives to use to describe her idea. "It's an amazing idea! An INCREDIBLE IDEA! No, wait, a STELLAR idea!!!" "Screwball." "Yeah, Scabby?" "One; I hate that name. My name is Salmon. Two; if I just wasted a five month vow of silence on something absolutely trivial, I will be beyond pissed. Capiche?" I growl. I was honestly hoping that the medical staff would notice my muteness, so I could make the demands to get my life to be a little more bearable. If I wasted all my time and effort on something as ridiculous as a hospital food sundae made from potatoes, I might end up being thrown into a rubber room. Because I would literally lose my mind. "Capiche!" Screwball replied merrily with a wink. I give her the 'really' look. I wondered if she even knew what capiche meant. "Oh yeah!" She bubbles, before I can speak again, "The idea!" Her face shifted from that of pure silliness to one of absolute seriousness. Her brows furrowed and her expression darkened, her face becoming more grim than I've ever seen it become. When she speaks, her voice is no longer that of the bubbly, giggly mare. She meant business. But even with all her seriousness, one couldn't help but not take her seriously with that spinning propellor hat on her head. "Me and Screwloose are bustin' outta this place. You in?" SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER "BARK! BARK BARK BARK!" "Who? The Scabby guy? What makes you say I think he's cute? I can't even seen his face. And why in Equestria would he come in handy?" "BARKBARKBARKBARK!" "Oh yeaaah... he's been here longer than either of us. He knows this place like the back of his hoof. Er... he doesn't see his hooves much, does he... like his own bandages! And when he leads us out of this dump, we leave him to go along on his own. He's not our problem, and he'll only slow down our getaway." "BARKBARK BARK B-!" "Just shut up already, you crazy mare!" "Sorry, mister security guard pony! We're just having a chat." "Well, make it quick. She's gotta get that muzzle back on her before I get a Celestia-damned headache again." "Arf?" 2: The Not-So-Great EscapeSkelePone (Felix Aberg & Lief Mason) presents THE CRAZIES CHAPTER TWO THE NOT-SO-GREAT ESCAPE “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.” ― Confucius Dear Diary, I’m leaving the hospital tonight. Screwball and Screwloose are coming for me and we’re all leaving this hellhole together. Maybe for only a few days, maybe forever. I don’t know. Screwball came to my room yesterday. She had asked for my help. Can you believe it? Screwball, the byproduct of Discord and chaotic energy running rampant, asking me, a simple stallion with a skin condition, to help her escape? It’s unbelievable! At first, I thought she had been joking, you know? Screwball’s notorious here at the hospital for pranking ponies; not to mention her odd and often distasteful sense of humor. But she had explained it all to me. How I could show them a way out, how I’d map it out. And then at midnight they would come and get me. And take me with them! I’m excited. This will be my first time outside since I was a colt. And… I admit I’m a little scared. It’s a big world out there, Diary. And I have a feeling of impending doom. I don’t want to be a pessimist, but I’m starting to have a bad feeling about Screwball. Whenever I ask her what our plans for after the escape are, she shrugs it off and changes the conversation. It’s weird. Even for her. But maybe I’m just worrying myself- I cover my diary with my blankets as I hear my bedroom door creak open. I had been keeping my diary a secret for years; I was worried that it was against hospital policy, since writing utensils were banned from patient use. The diary itself had been a gift from my mother. The pencil I had... ‘acquired’ after sneaking into a doctor’s office years ago and swiping it off of the table while nopony was looking. It’s only Screwball, floating silently over the ground. She waves to me; then points a hoof to the slightly ajar bathroom door. Go get ready. I shuffle in, cracking the door behind me. This is going to be my last chance to clean my bandages for awhile. I quickly peel off what was my layer of skin. My only protection from the elements. I would need thicker wrappings if I wanted to travel comfortably. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stand there for a moment, looking sadly at what should have been a normal, maybe even handsome face. I can’t look any longer. It’s sickening; reminds me of the life I could have lived. The one I was going to live, I reminded myself. Once I escaped this sterile prison... “Scabs, hurry it up!” Screwball hissed from behind the door. “I’m coming!” I whispered back. I leap into action, wrapping myself in a few layers of Dr. Dermal’s Patented Anti-Infection Medical Wrap. My vision becomes hazy and depthless once again as I recover my crusted eye. I wish I could leave it uncovered. But the day before I had had the scab removed once again, and the skin on my eyelids was still raw. I double-checked my handiwork and gave my reflection a nod of approval. Padding back out to Screwball, I gave her a small nod and peered an eye out of the small window in my door. “Is the coast clear?” Screwball hissed into my ear. “Nurse Redheart’s just down the hall. She should be going to bed in a few sec- wait there she goes. Told you.” “Okay,” Screwball said, no longer whispering, “Grab your stuff. I’ll go get Loose.” I gave her a quick little salute as she floated out of my room. I let myself explode into an excited squee as I padded about my room. I pulled my pillow out from my pillowcase and started to shove random paraphernalia into it. My diary. The pencil. Extra bandages. Pain medicine. A Daring Do book. (What? When that crazy rainbow pegasus shared my room, she kind of got me hooked. Stuff like that happens.) I gazed down at my few possessions in half-amazement, half-depression. Was this really everything I owned? “Scabby, let’s go! You ready?” I almost jumped out of my bandages in shock. I whirled around to see a panting Screwloose; still wearing her straightjacket and her muzzle. With her, Screwball levitated a few inches off the ground, patiently awaiting my say-so. “Um… Are you sure we should bring her?” I asked, pointing a hoof at Screwloose. “She’s kinda… tied up.” Screwball considered her friend, studying the straightjacket with squinted eyes. “Eh. We can figure it out later.” She said with a shrug. I shrugged back. Screwball motioned towards my stuffed pillowcase. I obliged slinging it onto my back and giving a little salute. She smirked and pointed her hoof at the door, which was slightly ajar and exiting into the dark hall. “Lead the way, captain.” The halls of the hospital were dark and cold. Even so, I was still sweating nervously. Sweet Celestia I was scared. What if we got caught?! What if Screwloose started barking out of the blue?! So much could go wrong in such little time, and the sheer thought of that send my body into frightened shudders and shakes. Screwball was using her unnatural chaos magic to levitate the silent Screwloose down the hall. She followed close behind me; but without their heavy breathing I wouldn’t even have been able to hear the floating mares. The only sounds in the hall were my shuffling hoofsteps, our bated breaths, and the air conditioner rumbling behind us. As we made our way down the hall, a patient in one of their rooms would let out a snore or say something in their sleep. Every time the three of us would freeze and stare at the offending room with wide eyes until we were sure that the pony inside was still asleep. I read the signs on the doors, identifying the patient. It helped me take my mind off of how much trouble we’d be in for escaping. Teddie Safari. Mauled by Ursa Major. Treehugger. Cannabis overdose. Felix. Melanoma. Derpy Hooves. Flying accident. We make it to the end of the hall after what should have been less than a minute. It felt like it had been hours. I hold up a hoof to stop the Screws from continuing as I peer my one good eye around the corner. I waved a hoof crazily in some attempt to usher them into the next room. We creeped into Derpy’s room, holding hooves over each other’s mouths to keep the other from letting out any involuntary noises as a bulky security stallion trotted down the hall with a flashlight glowing from his mouth. He was looking for something. And I had a distinct feeling that I knew what he was looking for: Us. I removed my hoof from Screwloose’s wet leather muzzle. I let out a soft groan of disgust at the feel of her slobber sticking to my hooves. Gross. I picked up my makeshift bag once again and the three of us were off once more, slowly shuffling down the halls. The plan was simple. Make it all the way to the colt’s restroom at the end of Hall E without getting caught by security. Bust through the grate and into the air ducts leading us directly outside. Assuming that we can scuffle through ducts without alerting hospital personnel to our location. It was an amazing plan! Screwball let out a nervous eep as we ducked into another room, a security stallion humming as he walked past. I struggled to keep in a groan of annoyance. It was a terrible plan. After what could have been hours, we eventually made our way into the colt’s restroom. The sterile checkered tiles gleamed under bright oil lamps dangling from the ceiling. I hurriedly locked the bolt at the door. “Okay, Screwball, you know what to do. I’ll get to untying Loose.” I whispered. Screwball nodded and flew over to the large slatted grate on the wall opposite of the door. I heard her whacking away at the vent’s bolts, so I busied myself with untying the various belts and buckles that kept Screwloose bound and immobile like she was. There were so many knots in the belts that I wondered if anypony even planned on letting Screwloose so much as feel her forelegs. She let out a whimper when I accidentally tugged at a belt too roughly. “Sorry,” I grumbled, “working as fast as I can, okay?” She lets out a muffled bark and for a moment I’m glad she has a muzzle on, so her crazed noises won’t be heard by security stallions. “Hey Screwball?” “Mmhmm?” She mumbles from across the restroom, completely engrossed in the vent. I notice how serious she looks when she doesn’t have wall-eyes. Her little grimace of concentration splayed across her fuchsia pink face. I couldn’t help but think she looked a bit cute… I quickly shook my head, fighting the urge to slap myself. Now’s not the time, Salmon. “Do I have to take the muzzle off? We don’t want her making a racket. Right?” Screwball completely disregards her task and gives me a very sullen frown. “What?” “Are you serious?” She snaps. “Um… kinda?” “She’s a pony, just like you and me. That muzzle, that jacket; it’s just wrong, Salmon. Would you want a muzzle on? Huh?” I was taken aback. Not only by her strict tone of voice, but by the fact that she called me by my actual name. “W-Well… no…” “Take the muzzle off of her, Scabby.” She said darkly. Screwball squashed her propeller hat tightly onto her skull and turned around once more to face the half-removed grate. I obliged, ripping off the muzzle. Screwloose let out a quiet yip and licked my cheek. Gross. Despite my burning desire to re-muzzle the loony dog-mare-thing, I finished my job of untangling her from the straightjacket. Now Screwloose free to bound carelessly about the restroom, panting and wagging her tail like a dog. At the same time, Screwball let out a low hoot of joy as the grate finally crashed to the ground. We had a little celebration, then and there. We were one step closer to making it out of here. Of course, that light of glory didn’t last long. Something just HAD to go wrong. “Hey! Is somepony in there?” A harsh voice shouted on the other side of the door. “Open up!” “Oh buck!” Screwball swore, shoving Screwloose into the vent. We were in trouble now. “What are we going to do?” I panicked, sitting on my haunches and tugging at my ears. “Just keep up with the plan!” Screwball hissed, giving Screwloose a slap on the flank; making her yelp and leapt into action. “We’re giving you until the count of three!” Screwloose was now scrabbling down the air duct, followed immediately by Screwball. I stood there, my legs limp. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. It went against every good colt nerve in my body. The Salmon Code of Good Behaviour, that I seemingly adopted in the span of minutes. “One!” Her head popped out from the vent. Screwball gave an irritated huff. “Well? Come on, Scabs!” “TWO!” I took a few shaky steps towards her. She grimaced and reached out a hoof to pull me in forcibly. Just in time, too. “THREE!” The door smashed open, and about a dozen security stallions swarmed in just as we made our way down the vent and towards the cold breeze of night air we could feel. “Sound the alarm! We have a few escapees!” There was Screwloose, whimpering at the grate leading to the outside. This time, Screwball didn’t hesitate to headbutt the vent, busting it off. The three of us tumbled outside, falling several stories into some rather prickly bushes. We were free.
Prologue: ScabsSkelePone (Felix Aberg & Lief Mason) presents THE CRAZIES PROLOGUE: SCABS “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” ― Dr. Seuss It was a skin condition, they had said. One that would leave me disfigured for life. Of course, I was only a colt. I had no idea what it meant to be disfigured. And the idea of being like that for a lifetime was unimaginable. All I knew was that I had these... scabs. Terribly itchy, flaky, red scabs. All over my body; clumping up my coat and my mane. Mostly the scabs were speckled around my hooves where they would burst open painfully if they weren’t adequately kept. My hooves were already bandaged on that first appointment with the doctors at Ponyville Community Hospital. I was only a foal, so I didn’t really mind having the bandages on. I thought it was cool, even. I kind of thought I looked like an ancient mummy. I can remember that first appointment vaguely. Almost like it was yesterday. I’m sitting in the big hospital play area, with a few little fillies getting their check-ups. We're chatting together about who-knows-what, playing with the wood-carved animals and the building blocks that had been there since I was a newborn. I end up making friends with them. They say my bandages look cool, so I let them take a crayon and draw their cutie marks on them. It's something I had started doing back when I was still in school. Unfortunately, their mother takes one look at me and calls the fillies away from me with something almost like disgust in her voice. I shrug it off. Maybe the mother just needed them for something. They’d be back soon enough. “Salmon, come on. Doctor Gross is ready to see you.” My mother, Fishnets, calls to me from across the waiting room. Yes my name is Salmon. I was named after the light shade of pink that my coat was. Also, it’s a pretty witty pun. You see, my parents are fisherponies. Nopony really eats fish in Ponyville, but they still fish for making pet food and for sport, or whatever reason one can think of. So naming their pink colt ‘Salmon’ was too good of an idea to pass up. I kind of like the name anyways. At least I wasn’t named Pinkie or something stupid like that. How embarrassing would that be. I follow my mother and a pretty nurse mare down the long hospital hallways. The lights flicker eerily. But I'm used to it. I've already been to the hospital more times than I can count. They lead me into a room, and there's a doctor there. I've met him before, Doctor Gross. He's a large unicorn stallion with a white mane and a light blue coat. Over it, he wears a funny looking collared shirt with a stethoscope over that. When I get settled onto the outrageously uncomfortable counter, the doctor carefully removes my bandages. I admit I whined a bit. It hurt to have the bandages removed. Mostly because the scabs would tug at them and sometimes get ripped off. Ouch. “Ah yes,” the doctor says to my mother, “See here? The coat is already starting to fall out where the scabs form; and constant bandaging and removal not only causes intense pain, but it seems to quicken the spread.” “Isn’t there anything we can do? A spell? A potion?” My mother pleads. I don’t take notice at her desperate tone. I was too busy looking at the scabs on my hooves. They had already healed over, now nothing but hard red slabs of yuck. I notice I can see some of my bare skin. I shrug that off, too. Hair grows back. And the scabs were so fascinating to my young mind that I could care less about some missing hair. “I’m afraid not, Missus Nets. Salmon here will have to live with these abscesses for the rest of his life. However long that may be.” “W-What do you mean, doctor?” “You see, Salmon’s life span is halved. It’s just simply too much strain on his developing body to have to constantly heal itself like it does. And his lack of a coat, or soon to be lack of a coat… Well... let's just say that exposure to the elements and enhanced risk of infection and disease won’t help his chances.” “B-Bu…” “I’m sorry, ma’am," Doctor Gross says as he shakes his head dejectedly, "But unfortunately, it’s terminal. He’ll live to stallionhood. I'm not sure how much longer he’ll have after that.” I hum to myself; a little song from my favorite television show. I wish I was back at home watching it. This conversation was getting pretty boring. “Mommy,” I say, tugging at my mother’s mane gently. I can barely grab onto anything with my hooves when they’re not bandaged. It just hurts too much for them to be bare. “When are we going home?” My mother looks to me with tears in her blue eyes, staring deeply into my own purple ones. She turns away, stifling a sob as she glanced expectantly at the doctor. I’m confused. Did I say something wrong? Maybe today was just a sad day. Doctor Gross shakes his head. “I wouldn’t recommend him returning home with you. He's already exhibiting a few irreversible symptoms. In my professional opinion, I’d leave him to the permanent ward here at the hospital. He’ll be safe from contamination and he’ll be able to live his maximum expected lifespan.” “A-Are you sure it’s… it’s for the best?” Doctor Gross nods. I yawn. I really wanted to go to bed. It had been a long day. “It’s our only choice, ma'am. It's too risky to let him remain outside of twenty-four seven care.” I was left at the hospital. I was so excited, it was like a sleepover. But without any noisy foals keeping you awake all night long and with a nice nurse mare who’d get you water and help you adjust your bandages if they felt uncomfortable. I kind of liked the hospital. One week later... I had been informed I was to stay at the hospital for a long, long time. I didn’t know what to do. I cried, sure. My mom visited me every day. My dad, not so much. He was so busy, my mom would say. He can’t find time to visit. Later, I’d learn the truth. My father and mother had divorced, and my mother didn’t want me to go through the pain of losing him forever. Life in the hospital was simple enough. Eat, sleep. Sometimes go out to the rec room and make some friends. But my friends were always getting discharged or transferred to new hospitals. Then I’d be left alone once again, with nothing but the hospital staff and my scabs to keep me company. The only pony who remained with me through the entirety of my colthood was a peculiar filly named Screwloose. Well, in all honesty, I don’t think that was her name. But everypony who was a patient earned a nickname. She was called Screwloose because she was the only permanent psycho ward patient. She apparently thought she was a dog. Which was funny and cool for the first day or so. Then it just got annoying. Enough about her. I’ll save Screwloose’s story for another day. Now, I want to go along my affliction’s development. First, the hair around my legs fell out completely. The doctors said that ninety-nine percent of my coat on my legs had fallen out. I lost the hair on my flanks as well. If I ever got my cutie mark, I would never know. Without a coat for the mark to appear on, I’d be markless for life. That depressed me more than the actual hair loss. Imagine it. Waking up one day to learn that you'll never truly learn what your special talent was. It sort of made the whole 'I'm dying' thing that much more realistic to me. The hair loss continued; I lost my mane after my tenth birthday. Some of it even fell into the birthday cake. Pretty gross, even to me. It didn’t really matter though; Screwloose ate it all anyway. Before my twelfth birthday, a scab had formed over my left eyelid, closing it completely. I was taken into emergency surgery in a desperate attempt to save it, but it was useless. The scab just kept growing back. So they just covered it in a bandage and gave me a special spell developed by some filly over at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The spell was good, I suppose, it let me still have depth perception in my one working eye. Not that I cared. I wanted two eyes again. Ponies began to toy around with my patient nickname. Cyclops. One Eye. Stereotypical names that made me feel like I was nothing but a freak. Of course, none of them ever stuck. My entire head was eventually bandaged. Besides my right eye, of course. I preferred to keep my muzzle tied shut. It gave me an excuse to keep quiet; I had grown a lot more withdrawn in my teenage years. My hindquarters were entirely bandaged up, with a hole for my tail. My purple tail had surprisingly survived my hair loss stage. The only other place on my body with any hair at all still was my belly and some of my back, as well as a patch of fur around my right eye. And those were the only patches of coat you could still see on me; everything else was nothing but bare skin. Mottled red and flesh-colored skin. My only colors were white bandages and those few patches of scruffy salmon hair. My bandages were magical, of course. I’d never have to change them, remove them. Or whatever else you do with them. The bandages were permanently clean, and they continuously disinfected my scabs. The bandages would detach from my loins and make a little window so I could use the restroom, and they could loosen around from my muzzle so I could speak, eat, and drink. Besides that, they are always hugging at my skin, keeping me warm and giving me protection from cold tables and floors and from various fluid that could give me terrible infections that would hurt like Tartarus on the rare occasions that they would crop up. Life was, in short, terrible. Until I met her. It was some time after Discord had been sealed up once again by the Elements of Harmony when a new permanent psycho ward patient was registered and dumped with the rest of the patients. Her name was Screwball, or so she said. It made sense. Kind of. Her cutie mark was literally a screw and a baseball. A screwball. I never really learned what had happened to her. I heard rumors that she had taken a plunge into pure Chaos magic. Another was that she wasn't even a pony, but something created by Discord's magic. Whatever her story was, it had given her the ability to levitate anywhere from a few centimeters to several meters off the ground. She also had some sort of ability to do things. Amazing things, miracles almost. But there was a drawback to it all. She was kind of… insane. She was the most peculiar mare I had ever met. She was creative, random, and strange. But I guess that's what I liked about her. Even if she could be a tad bit annoying or even irresponsible at times. Screwball herself was the one who gave me the nickname 'Scabby.' I didn't like the name, but it was better than 'Cyclops.' After a couple more years together, the ward began to feel more and more empty. Me, Screwloose, and Screwball were among the last permanent patients left. Ponies would come and go, but we’d be here together. Forever. We're the three musketeers. I guess, in a way. Well... no. That's not a good comparison at all. We're not some bumbling heroes. We're probably the exact opposite of honorable and brave. We're not strong. Besides Screwball maybe. We're not tough. We're just a bunch of locked-up ponies, kept away from others because we seem to disturb them. I disturb them with my appearance. Screwloose disturbs them with her behavior. Screwball is just Screwball. So no. Don't call us the three musketeers. Don't even call us heroes. Call us The Crazies. Author's Note Can't wait to get into this story. Been told it has a lot of promise. Thanks to Ponyminer64 for editing! Skelly (Felix Aberg) Scabby or 'Salmon''s story is based off of Felix's actual life story. He was unfortunately diagnosed with melanoma, which has reached his lungs. He's given me, Lief, permission to help him get down his ideas and I have promised to him that when he dies (it's been estimated he has less than a year now to live) to finish everything he's started, and maybe even make SkelePone into something more. Felix doesn't want me saying this, but this fan fiction is dedicated to the life of Felix Aberg. He might leave soon; but the name of SkelePone and the characters he's made will go on. SkelePone II (Lief Mason)
1: Ponyville Community Hospital 1: Ponyville Community Hospital SkelePone (Felix Aberg & Lief Mason) presents THE CRAZIES CHAPTER ONE PONYVILLE COMMUNITY HOSPITAL “Hope is a waking dream.” ― Aristotle "Morning, Scabsies!" A bubbly pink mare with a propeller hat on her head floated up to me. I just grunted in reply. Five months without a single word, I wasn't breaking my vow of silence for some random (take that in any way you want) mare. I barely even knew her. She barely even knew me, beyond my nickname and my appearance. 'Scabby the mummy stallion.' Ha-yuk ha-yuk ha-yuk. We were in line at the cafeteria, shuffling along between a pony who I knew was a chronic arsonist and another who was kleptomaniac. I had grabbed a carton of apple juice and a small bowl of oatmeal. And I was beyond irritated to see that the flying Earth pony mare was still following me. I decided to ignore her. Maybe she'd take a hint and go away. So I shuffled my way towards an empty table, ready to eat my breakfast in what should have been well-deserved blissful solitude. But Screwball didn't go away. She floated along right beside me, using that creepy magic whatchamacallit to keep up with me. I may be covered with bandages, but I can shuffle around pretty quickly. You learn to be fast when you have to around Screwball. I sat down, still refusing to meet the eager gaze of the silly mare floating around me. She wanted something from me. And I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it and there was no way I was giving her what she wanted. Whenever I gave in to her puppy-dog eyes, I'd immediately regret it and she'd end up causing an explosion in the mare's restroom or worse. "Scabbyyyyyyyyy..." She groaned obnoxiously into my ear. I winced my one good eye as I tightened the bandages around my muzzle and pointed an aggressive hoof at it. I wasn't talking at all today. I prayed to Celestia that Screwball would just fly away in the eerie, unnatural way that she could. But she remained, munching noisily on her breakfast burrito. I gritted my teeth below my bandages before losing my patience. I tossed my untouched meal to the floor and got up noisily. I let out a muffled growl and stormed from the cafeteria. Maybe I shouldn't have stomped my hooves so hard. I could feel the scabs around my fetlocks cracking open, dirtying my bandages. Terrific. Now I have another thing to add to my constantly growing list of problems. I'd have to run them under some water or something to freshen them again. I slammed the door to my room and made sure to lock it behind me. Of course, that was useless. "Heyyyy Scabby." I ignored the mare as she walked about, upside down on my ceiling. It was an old trick. I had seen it already countless times already. I found it effective to pretend that she was being absolutely normal. I waddle over to the sink in the corner of my room and start running cold water on my bandages. Sweet Celestia that felt good. I almost forgot for a moment that a certain somepony was still with me in my bedroom. "Scabby," her voice tickles against my ears. Screwball's right behind me, whispering into my ear. "Answer me? Please?" If I hadn't been wearing bandages, she would've been able to see a bright red blush form on my bare muzzle. But my bandages were still over my cheeks. And the only hint that I was in any way affected was my wavering expression. I could see my reflection shifting from my usual grouchy or worried expression to one that looked outrageously dreamy. I silently cursed the mare for being so freakishly cute with her little propeller hat and her swirling purple walleyes. "What do you want?" I rasped quietly, refusing to look at her. She squealed excitedly before flying over to my bed and landing in the middle, looking at me with a big, goofy smile on her face. My voice was incredibly hoarse from being unused for so long. "So I was talking to Screwloose, right? And when we were talking-" "Wait. Wait wait wait. Screwloose can't talk." I interrupted, shuffling over to sit beside her, "we both know that." "I can understand her." Screwball explained with a shrug. "What." "Just listen to what I was saying! It's imporrrrrrrtant!" "Alright, alright! Just get on with it. I don't even want to know, but I know for a fact that you won't leave me alone until I hear it. So spit it out already." "Me and Screwloose have an idea." Screwball whispered with a leering grin. A smile like that from the chaotic Earth pony mare was bad news. "An idea." "Yup!" "Okay," I said, wishing she'd just get to the point already, "and?" "And it's a good idea." I put my hoof to my face and sighed. Why do I even bother? "No no! It's a great idea!" I withstand the growing urge to roll my one good eye. Damn me to Tartarus. No. Send my flank to the moon, this was not a conversation I wanted to have. She continued to blabber on, thinking of more and more creative adjectives to use to describe her idea. "It's an amazing idea! An INCREDIBLE IDEA! No, wait, a STELLAR idea!!!" "Screwball." "Yeah, Scabby?" "One; I hate that name. My name is Salmon. Two; if I just wasted a five month vow of silence on something absolutely trivial, I will be beyond pissed. Capiche?" I growl. I was honestly hoping that the medical staff would notice my muteness, so I could make the demands to get my life to be a little more bearable. If I wasted all my time and effort on something as ridiculous as a hospital food sundae made from potatoes, I might end up being thrown into a rubber room. Because I would literally lose my mind. "Capiche!" Screwball replied merrily with a wink. I give her the 'really' look. I wondered if she even knew what capiche meant. "Oh yeah!" She bubbles, before I can speak again, "The idea!" Her face shifted from that of pure silliness to one of absolute seriousness. Her brows furrowed and her expression darkened, her face becoming more grim than I've ever seen it become. When she speaks, her voice is no longer that of the bubbly, giggly mare. She meant business. But even with all her seriousness, one couldn't help but not take her seriously with that spinning propellor hat on her head. "Me and Screwloose are bustin' outta this place. You in?" SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER "BARK! BARK BARK BARK!" "Who? The Scabby guy? What makes you say I think he's cute? I can't even seen his face. And why in Equestria would he come in handy?" "BARKBARKBARKBARK!" "Oh yeaaah... he's been here longer than either of us. He knows this place like the back of his hoof. Er... he doesn't see his hooves much, does he... like his own bandages! And when he leads us out of this dump, we leave him to go along on his own. He's not our problem, and he'll only slow down our getaway." "BARKBARK BARK B-!" "Just shut up already, you crazy mare!" "Sorry, mister security guard pony! We're just having a chat." "Well, make it quick. She's gotta get that muzzle back on her before I get a Celestia-damned headache again." "Arf?"
2: The Not-So-Great EscapeSkelePone (Felix Aberg & Lief Mason) presents THE CRAZIES CHAPTER TWO THE NOT-SO-GREAT ESCAPE “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.” ― Confucius Dear Diary, I’m leaving the hospital tonight. Screwball and Screwloose are coming for me and we’re all leaving this hellhole together. Maybe for only a few days, maybe forever. I don’t know. Screwball came to my room yesterday. She had asked for my help. Can you believe it? Screwball, the byproduct of Discord and chaotic energy running rampant, asking me, a simple stallion with a skin condition, to help her escape? It’s unbelievable! At first, I thought she had been joking, you know? Screwball’s notorious here at the hospital for pranking ponies; not to mention her odd and often distasteful sense of humor. But she had explained it all to me. How I could show them a way out, how I’d map it out. And then at midnight they would come and get me. And take me with them! I’m excited. This will be my first time outside since I was a colt. And… I admit I’m a little scared. It’s a big world out there, Diary. And I have a feeling of impending doom. I don’t want to be a pessimist, but I’m starting to have a bad feeling about Screwball. Whenever I ask her what our plans for after the escape are, she shrugs it off and changes the conversation. It’s weird. Even for her. But maybe I’m just worrying myself- I cover my diary with my blankets as I hear my bedroom door creak open. I had been keeping my diary a secret for years; I was worried that it was against hospital policy, since writing utensils were banned from patient use. The diary itself had been a gift from my mother. The pencil I had... ‘acquired’ after sneaking into a doctor’s office years ago and swiping it off of the table while nopony was looking. It’s only Screwball, floating silently over the ground. She waves to me; then points a hoof to the slightly ajar bathroom door. Go get ready. I shuffle in, cracking the door behind me. This is going to be my last chance to clean my bandages for awhile. I quickly peel off what was my layer of skin. My only protection from the elements. I would need thicker wrappings if I wanted to travel comfortably. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stand there for a moment, looking sadly at what should have been a normal, maybe even handsome face. I can’t look any longer. It’s sickening; reminds me of the life I could have lived. The one I was going to live, I reminded myself. Once I escaped this sterile prison... “Scabs, hurry it up!” Screwball hissed from behind the door. “I’m coming!” I whispered back. I leap into action, wrapping myself in a few layers of Dr. Dermal’s Patented Anti-Infection Medical Wrap. My vision becomes hazy and depthless once again as I recover my crusted eye. I wish I could leave it uncovered. But the day before I had had the scab removed once again, and the skin on my eyelids was still raw. I double-checked my handiwork and gave my reflection a nod of approval. Padding back out to Screwball, I gave her a small nod and peered an eye out of the small window in my door. “Is the coast clear?” Screwball hissed into my ear. “Nurse Redheart’s just down the hall. She should be going to bed in a few sec- wait there she goes. Told you.” “Okay,” Screwball said, no longer whispering, “Grab your stuff. I’ll go get Loose.” I gave her a quick little salute as she floated out of my room. I let myself explode into an excited squee as I padded about my room. I pulled my pillow out from my pillowcase and started to shove random paraphernalia into it. My diary. The pencil. Extra bandages. Pain medicine. A Daring Do book. (What? When that crazy rainbow pegasus shared my room, she kind of got me hooked. Stuff like that happens.) I gazed down at my few possessions in half-amazement, half-depression. Was this really everything I owned? “Scabby, let’s go! You ready?” I almost jumped out of my bandages in shock. I whirled around to see a panting Screwloose; still wearing her straightjacket and her muzzle. With her, Screwball levitated a few inches off the ground, patiently awaiting my say-so. “Um… Are you sure we should bring her?” I asked, pointing a hoof at Screwloose. “She’s kinda… tied up.” Screwball considered her friend, studying the straightjacket with squinted eyes. “Eh. We can figure it out later.” She said with a shrug. I shrugged back. Screwball motioned towards my stuffed pillowcase. I obliged slinging it onto my back and giving a little salute. She smirked and pointed her hoof at the door, which was slightly ajar and exiting into the dark hall. “Lead the way, captain.” The halls of the hospital were dark and cold. Even so, I was still sweating nervously. Sweet Celestia I was scared. What if we got caught?! What if Screwloose started barking out of the blue?! So much could go wrong in such little time, and the sheer thought of that send my body into frightened shudders and shakes. Screwball was using her unnatural chaos magic to levitate the silent Screwloose down the hall. She followed close behind me; but without their heavy breathing I wouldn’t even have been able to hear the floating mares. The only sounds in the hall were my shuffling hoofsteps, our bated breaths, and the air conditioner rumbling behind us. As we made our way down the hall, a patient in one of their rooms would let out a snore or say something in their sleep. Every time the three of us would freeze and stare at the offending room with wide eyes until we were sure that the pony inside was still asleep. I read the signs on the doors, identifying the patient. It helped me take my mind off of how much trouble we’d be in for escaping. Teddie Safari. Mauled by Ursa Major. Treehugger. Cannabis overdose. Felix. Melanoma. Derpy Hooves. Flying accident. We make it to the end of the hall after what should have been less than a minute. It felt like it had been hours. I hold up a hoof to stop the Screws from continuing as I peer my one good eye around the corner. I waved a hoof crazily in some attempt to usher them into the next room. We creeped into Derpy’s room, holding hooves over each other’s mouths to keep the other from letting out any involuntary noises as a bulky security stallion trotted down the hall with a flashlight glowing from his mouth. He was looking for something. And I had a distinct feeling that I knew what he was looking for: Us. I removed my hoof from Screwloose’s wet leather muzzle. I let out a soft groan of disgust at the feel of her slobber sticking to my hooves. Gross. I picked up my makeshift bag once again and the three of us were off once more, slowly shuffling down the halls. The plan was simple. Make it all the way to the colt’s restroom at the end of Hall E without getting caught by security. Bust through the grate and into the air ducts leading us directly outside. Assuming that we can scuffle through ducts without alerting hospital personnel to our location. It was an amazing plan! Screwball let out a nervous eep as we ducked into another room, a security stallion humming as he walked past. I struggled to keep in a groan of annoyance. It was a terrible plan. After what could have been hours, we eventually made our way into the colt’s restroom. The sterile checkered tiles gleamed under bright oil lamps dangling from the ceiling. I hurriedly locked the bolt at the door. “Okay, Screwball, you know what to do. I’ll get to untying Loose.” I whispered. Screwball nodded and flew over to the large slatted grate on the wall opposite of the door. I heard her whacking away at the vent’s bolts, so I busied myself with untying the various belts and buckles that kept Screwloose bound and immobile like she was. There were so many knots in the belts that I wondered if anypony even planned on letting Screwloose so much as feel her forelegs. She let out a whimper when I accidentally tugged at a belt too roughly. “Sorry,” I grumbled, “working as fast as I can, okay?” She lets out a muffled bark and for a moment I’m glad she has a muzzle on, so her crazed noises won’t be heard by security stallions. “Hey Screwball?” “Mmhmm?” She mumbles from across the restroom, completely engrossed in the vent. I notice how serious she looks when she doesn’t have wall-eyes. Her little grimace of concentration splayed across her fuchsia pink face. I couldn’t help but think she looked a bit cute… I quickly shook my head, fighting the urge to slap myself. Now’s not the time, Salmon. “Do I have to take the muzzle off? We don’t want her making a racket. Right?” Screwball completely disregards her task and gives me a very sullen frown. “What?” “Are you serious?” She snaps. “Um… kinda?” “She’s a pony, just like you and me. That muzzle, that jacket; it’s just wrong, Salmon. Would you want a muzzle on? Huh?” I was taken aback. Not only by her strict tone of voice, but by the fact that she called me by my actual name. “W-Well… no…” “Take the muzzle off of her, Scabby.” She said darkly. Screwball squashed her propeller hat tightly onto her skull and turned around once more to face the half-removed grate. I obliged, ripping off the muzzle. Screwloose let out a quiet yip and licked my cheek. Gross. Despite my burning desire to re-muzzle the loony dog-mare-thing, I finished my job of untangling her from the straightjacket. Now Screwloose free to bound carelessly about the restroom, panting and wagging her tail like a dog. At the same time, Screwball let out a low hoot of joy as the grate finally crashed to the ground. We had a little celebration, then and there. We were one step closer to making it out of here. Of course, that light of glory didn’t last long. Something just HAD to go wrong. “Hey! Is somepony in there?” A harsh voice shouted on the other side of the door. “Open up!” “Oh buck!” Screwball swore, shoving Screwloose into the vent. We were in trouble now. “What are we going to do?” I panicked, sitting on my haunches and tugging at my ears. “Just keep up with the plan!” Screwball hissed, giving Screwloose a slap on the flank; making her yelp and leapt into action. “We’re giving you until the count of three!” Screwloose was now scrabbling down the air duct, followed immediately by Screwball. I stood there, my legs limp. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. It went against every good colt nerve in my body. The Salmon Code of Good Behaviour, that I seemingly adopted in the span of minutes. “One!” Her head popped out from the vent. Screwball gave an irritated huff. “Well? Come on, Scabs!” “TWO!” I took a few shaky steps towards her. She grimaced and reached out a hoof to pull me in forcibly. Just in time, too. “THREE!” The door smashed open, and about a dozen security stallions swarmed in just as we made our way down the vent and towards the cold breeze of night air we could feel. “Sound the alarm! We have a few escapees!” There was Screwloose, whimpering at the grate leading to the outside. This time, Screwball didn’t hesitate to headbutt the vent, busting it off. The three of us tumbled outside, falling several stories into some rather prickly bushes. We were free.
