Homeland Oracle

Chapters

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 1
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 2
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 3
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 4
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 5
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 6
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 7
Homeland Oracle: Chapter 8

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 1

It was a cold winter night, the journal entry read, and the six of us were taking a walk around Ponyville. It was rare enough that we had time off, even less common that all six of us were able to get together in such a way. As we walked, Applejack pointed out a small group gathering on the arch of one of Ponyville’s many bridges, staring up at Canterlot. The group swelled and grabbed at the attention of ponies passing by, the amount of them multiplying like cells undergoing meiosis. We looked to see what the commotion was about. Hovering above the high-society city of Canterlot loomed an ominous, swirling rain cloud threatening it. One of the ponies shouted about the whole town being engulfed in ice.”

It was true. We watched in fear as chaos broke out around us, consuming any semblance of sanity in the hearts of the confused ponies. We stared at the epidemic of the unnatural ice that was consuming all of Canterlot. By the time the ice had at least slowed down, Canterlot looked like a fly being engulfed inside of crystal-colored amber.

“I believe it may have been the Windigoes." The quality of writing was starting to get worse and worse, and the writer’s lack of legibility made it clear she was panicked. "It seemed to be the only thing that made a lick of sense. Why would they be here, though, hundreds of years after the founding of Equestria? They’re just some old pony’s tale, after all. Feeding on the emotion of another pony doesn’t make any sense, it’s not scientifically possible, it’s an emotion—”

“Forget it. It doesn't matter. Something was there and froze everypony. The whole town. I don’t know what happened to Princess Celestia, or the Orange residence, or—”

The writer clearly had multiple trains of thought going at one time. It was evident that she struggled with herself, and attempting to stay on topic. It didn't look like she had any time to go over what she wrote so she started a new line every time she penned down her branching, disoriented thoughts. At the end of this previous line, it looked as though her quill slipped off the page.

Her hoofwriting suddenly turned shaky and jagged.

“I was doing research on these ancient Windigoes when a pony I’ve never seen before barged in the window of my library, holding a knife. I was absolutely mortified to see the pony was covered in streaks of blood, and looked at me as her next target. Panicked, I dealt with her the only way I knew how. I levitated a book off the shelf and knocked the blood-encrusted mare out cold. Upon closer inspection, I, I...”

“I noticed the mare was actually a filly. I looked at the unconscious body of the filly and noticed she had bloodshot eyes and seemed to—”

The final journal entry ended with a whisk of the writer’s quill, running off the page, almost tearing a hole into it.

I closed the book down and set it on the cot I was sitting on. This journal of the past had always given me hope, but the last entry the author jotted down always gave me the chills. Well, it wasn’t the absolute final page she wrote down. It was the last in my possession, as there were many, many torn pages from it. I was almost certain that this very disaster of unknown origin was the reason why Equestria is the way that it is, and I assumed everyone else thought the same way. The whole book wasn’t really all bad, despite its short length. It told of good times they’ve had, but every page skipped months at a time, for multiple pages had been torn out of it. The journal’s original owner went by the name of Twilight Sparkle, and she wrote of adventures and good times she had approximately one-hundred and fifty years ago with her five other friends. They weren’t just ponies, though.

They were heroes.

According to the journal, the last entry I had was dated January 24th, L.C. 1022. L.C. stands for Luna’s Containment, when Princess Luna was sealed up in the moon by Celestia due to her wickedness. According to the L.C. dating system, Luna’s actual sealing would be L.C. 0. The current date is May 2nd, L.C. 1178.

An upsetting amount of information was stripped out of the book, leaving questions I couldn’t answer and lots of paper in the book’s binding. I’m guessing only a seventh of what was in the journal one-hundred and fifty years ago is still bound to it.

I looked out the window of our broken down, dilapidated shack, and through the barbed wire that lined the top of the fence of where I resided in Industead. I didn’t focus on the fact that the fence kept us here like some sort of smog-covered industrial prison, but I looked outside. I looked at the barren landscape with the occasional dead patch of grass poking up out of the dirt—or sand, I can never tell—looking for water and love. I imagined as though this dirt-sand was spread onto the landscape by Celestia herself as if she were a pastry chef, lifting her frosting knife here and there to create small dunes and ripples. The wasteland is a nasty place, I am told. I have never experienced it for myself, as I grew up in this small, ozone-ridden industrial town of Industead.

My so-called 'tutor' comes over every few days to teach me the core subjects as well as the dangers of the area outside of town. Knowledge of these things are required by The Mayor. He calls himself The Mayor, but he's the supreme dictator of Industead. He glorifies this little town and makes the desert out to be inevitable death. The tutor never comes over to talk about what you want to do when you grow up. He never comes over to teach a wide range of subjects. Just how to work in a factory. Or how to guard a caravan. If you were lucky, the tutor taught you how to fire a weapon and then you were stuck in The Mayor’s battalion, where you would serve the bastard for the rest of your life. You were never taught any sciences, no history. You were never taught how to get along or be kind. You were never taught about friendship.

Friendship.

The word hit me like a slap in the face. I was surrounded by ponies where I worked at the lumber mill, but none of them wanted anything to do with me. I was shunned. Nopony wanted to talk or even work with me, and for two main reasons.

One of them was that I was a unicorn. The town typically stigmatized unicorns, since they were magic-users. Industead was founded by earth ponies and each one of them worked day and night to get what they needed done. It was a pride issue when a unicorn just walks up and starts casting spells. But, they really don’t have to discriminate. I don’t even know how to use my magic, other than telekinesis that even a young filly knows.

The second one is a little different. As they would say, my barn door swings the opposite direction. Sure, I was a mare that was interested in other mares. But they don’t have to be so judgmental. It’s just sexuality. There is no problem in it. If The Mayor found out, he would surely have me killed just for that. That’s not really a problem at the moment, though. Only a stallion I work with knows, and that’s just because he caught me staring at an older mare’s flank. He started poking fun at me for it, but I just denied it and told him I was looking for the next load of lumber. Of course, that just fueled the fire, and more ponies joined in, making fun of a socially fatal mistake. I just don’t understand what the hell everypony’s problem is.

I just wanted a friend.

I wanted someone I could relate to and talk to. I wanted to be able to laugh and have fun with someone that could be my light in the smog, metaphorically speaking. Or even better: a special somepony. I can settle for a friend, though. However, this oppressive town ran by The Mayor and his goons won’t allow it. There is no room to be free here, and a large percentage of ponies living in Industead don’t even have their cutie marks.

Oppression and industry were the orders of the day here in Industead. You worked yourself to the bone, and got paid peanuts—metaphorically of course, but sometimes you were actually paid in peanuts—until you died. You didn’t have the choice to leave. You didn’t have any say in what you wanted to be. You’re born, branded with a job, and that was it. If you did your job ‘wrong’, you were beaten or you had a ‘discussion’ with The Mayor. You were then forced to work the rest of the night, as well as the day after with no pay. Not only was this unhealthy, but a majority of the time you were working in a factory, with moving parts and saws that would turn you into stew in a matter of seconds. So if you fell asleep or made a mistake, the pony marked with the job of janitor would have a long shift ahead of him.

I woke up, sat up, and my eyes scanned our shabby home. Located next to my cot, was my brother Flake’s cot. The headboards of both of our beds were lined up with the wall, meaning the opposite of the beds were pointed inward, towards the opposite wall. Centered on this wall was my parents’ bed. My mother, Crystal, sat on her cot rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and Flake was still passed out. He didn’t go to work quite yet, he was too young. Each pony in the family was entitled to their own cot and a small footlocker, containing any personal items that belonged to them. The walls were boarded haphazardly, and Flake and I were constantly ‘reinforcing’ them with nails we found on the street. In the corner of the shack furthest from the door was a refrigerator and a counter. I couldn’t help but to glance over at the empty space in Crystal’s full-sized bed.

That’s where my father, Sleet, used to sleep. He left town as a caravan guard about two years ago carrying some goods up through Ponyville to an eastward city called Manehattan. He told us the trip would only take a month, tops. However, he left about two years ago and still hasn’t returned. By the third month, Flake and Crystal decided that he must’ve been killed and they’ve mourned silently for him ever since.

However, on the other hoof, I know he’s out there.

I thought it may have been the first stage of accepting a loss, but I’ve had this gut feeling that he’s still out there, and for whatever reason the feeling keeps getting stronger and stronger.

I finally got up out of my bed, and looked at the clock on the wall. Six-twenty. I should be heading out the door.

I picked up my saddlebags, ready from the night before, and looked into the fractured mirror above my bed to make sure my mane wasn’t too bedraggled. After fixing a few ends here and there, I took a step back to look at myself in the mirror.

I had a nice pale blue coat, and my navy blue mane was naturally somewhat spiky and messy. Through my mane my horn showed, and made contact with a lavender stripe that faded into the back of my mane. My eyes shifted downwards and stopped at my flank.

No cutie mark. I never had one, and if I continue to live and work here, I never will have one.

“R-Rain?” my mother mumbled, still waking up from the long night she spent in her half-vacant, full-sized cot, “Could you pick up an apple or two on your way back from the lumber mill? We’re running low.”

“Consider it done, Mom.”

I trotted over to the refrigerator. Using the weak form of telekinetic magic I had, I opened it and peered inside.

To my dismay, there was only three-eighths of an apple left. I took one of the slices for lunch, skipping breakfast, and dropped it telekinetically in a bag. I then stuffed the lunch bag into my saddlebags.

I walked outside into the intoxicatingly polluted air, and looked up at the sky. I knew the sky was normally nice shade of blue, but not in Industead. Our misshapen shack stood on some rather sturdy stilts that lifted it up into the air a good two and a half meters. We lived right next to the Arms Assembly Co. building, which obviously made weapons of all sorts. It relieved itself of a frightening amount of ozone and carbon monoxide, as well as many other pollutants. Factories like this one were all over Industead, pouring ozone into the atmosphere where it shouldn’t be and blanketing the whole town in a brown haze.

I telekinetically pulled out a mask from one of my saddlebags and placed it over my muzzle to try to conflict the smog covering the town. I then picked up an aluminum bat and placed it in my saddle strap, in case an encounter with street thugs goes wrong (I've been running into them at least twice a week). Navigating down the steps, I trotted towards the lumber mill, where I worked.

There were many other shabby shacks scattered around Industead, seeming to only be there because factories wouldn’t fit. Factories and other industries made up the bulk of our town. Most of them were weapons factories or parts depots, and some were even factories that created machines and parts to make more factories.

Go figure.

"Eight Bits?!”

This psychotic mare was charging me eight bits for an apple probably infused with nitrous oxide that should cost maybe two or three bits.

I counted the bits I possessed: a whopping eight of them. I stared down at them as they sat in my hoof. I had earned that much after three days of working at the lumber mill. I was not about to spend all of it on an apple.

Before I could object and try to bargain with the unattractive mare at this apple stand, she impudently snatched the money right out of my hoof and shoved an apple into my shoulder. I was unsure which she bruised, the fruit or my shoulder. I carefully put it into one of my two saddlebags, and slumped away from the bazaar.

As I began walking away, I saw an earth pony about my age walk in my opposite direction towards the apple stand. He plopped two bits on the counter, and the mare gladly gave over her largest apple with a smile.

She gave him a smile. It just wasn’t fair.

I managed to make it back to the only place I could call home, avoiding an encounter with the street thugs by taking the long way. Celestia decided to ruin my day even further by forcing rain down upon Industead. Acid rain fell, due to the nature of the skies. A torrent of polluted, ozone-ridden water drenched everything in the city, including me. It would’ve been perfectly good water if Industead wasn’t a Luna-damned gas chamber.

I threw open the door harder than I intentioned, startling my younger brother and my mother. They could clearly tell that something was wrong when I pulled Twilight’s old journal out from one of my saddlebags—those of which I had previously thrown on the floor—and hugged it close as I dropped myself onto my cot. I rolled over in my cot, attempting to get comfortable. As I clenched it tighter to myself, tears began to roll down my cheek. More tears took shape, and by the time I fell asleep, I think my pillow was soaked.

“AAAAAGH! HELP!”

I was working at the lumber mill when I heard that shriek. I looked up from where I was arranging wood slabs on the conveyer belt and saw a stallion’s tail caught in a moving piece of machinery.

“Somepony, help me!”

The machinery was dragging him onto the conveyer belt, which was pushing him towards his certain doom: a sheet metal flattener.

Oh, merciful Celestia.

I dropped what I was doing and thought as hard and as quickly as I could. While doing this, my eyes scanned the room and found nothing of use but a lever. Using all of my strength, I yanked the lever out of its socket.

I telekinetically hurled it at the machinery, and the lever wedged itself into it, bringing the large piece of metal to a screeching halt.

I was wiping my head with my forehoof when I realized that some of the workers were smiling at me. Some didn’t even care about what I just did; especially most of the ones that usually pick on me, but some were smiling and saying ‘Good job’ or ‘Nice going, kid’. It was good to see a smile contrary to the normal comments such as: 'It looks like a raccoon lives in your mane, why don’t you go see Rarity for a makeover?'

A smile. It felt pretty good.

On my way back from work, I was contemplating the nice—nicer, anyways—comments and the actions that just took place. I wondered if The Mayor was going to have my head for vandalizing the factory. The lever was probably a mangled piece of scrap by now, and the sheet metal flattener’s internal gizmos were trashed, too. Not to mention all the wood I ruined while I was yanking out the lever and shoving it into the flattener.

On the bright side, I was glad to have those nice comments directed at me. Even if the others disregarded the fact that I saved that stallion’s life.

During my deep contemplations, I foalishly walked headfirst into a large stallion wearing a black and green-lined leather jacket. I was halted physically and mentally as the shadows of the ponies slowly creep toward me. Their hoof-steps made soft, muted clopping sounds against the concrete. I slowly and nervously looked up to see a stallion looking at me with somewhat evil, ominous eyes.

Thugs.

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 2

“Why don’t you watch where you’re walking, dumbass?”

The stallion’s logic was obviously flawed. I was walking at a slower pace than other ponies normally do, and if our paths were to have intersected at some point, he should have moved if I wasn’t paying attention. And to top it off, I was obviously not an ass. I got ready for an earful of unnecessary profanity and harsh insults.

“Whatcha got in that bag of yours, kid?” I heard another stallion in the group ask. I hadn’t even realized my teeth were clamped the lunch bag I didn’t eat at the mill until now.

The same stallion proceeded to snatch the bag from my mouth and dump over its contents on the ground. Wasn’t much just an expensive, polluted apple slice. An apple that I paid eight bits for.

“Haha, whaddya know, another fucking apple slice from that good for nothing mother of yours!” I was shuddering from what I was hearing, not only from the language but what he was saying about the only parent I had left. “Does that bitch know how to make anything else?”

The group erupted in laughter.

There’s been a time in us all in which we can only take so much in one day. Or, in a week, or even a month. Once that line is crossed, then your stress level increases dramatically, and 'bad stuff' happens. Stress is like ice in a glass. If you put water in a glass in the freezer and keep sucking the heat out of it, it will eventually turn to ice and push outward on the glass as the ice expands. There will then be a point in which the glass cracks under the pressure, and then it will just shatter. And that is exactly what I did.

I cracked a long time ago. So it was about time I shattered.

Pulling the bat out of my saddle strap, I flipped it around in my hoof and gave the pathetic excuse of a pony an uppercut of which he will never forget. Teeth and blood propelled out of his mouth, trailing my bat as it reached towards the sky. He went down with a meaty thud.

I immediately regretted doing that.

It all happened so quickly. After the other gang members watched him fall, their heads all turned toward me once again. This time, with an angrier, determined look in their eyes. They began pinning me down to the ground and bludgeoned me using my own weapon. There was nothing I could do. The stallion I bumped into was using my bat, while four of his cohorts pinned me down. The last was stomping me with a forehoof.

The stomping stallion delivered a powerful blow on my hind leg, and I heard it crack, sending a sharp, jolting pain up my leg. I began seeing blood run down my chest after two blows to the face with the bat and I was almost certain my leg was broken.

A significantly louder crack rang through the air and a split second later, the lead stallion’s head was no more, spattering the cobblestone behind him with gore. The other ponies dropped me and began to flee, further increasing the pain I was in as my limbs unexpectedly hit the cobblestone beneath me. I was too disoriented to tell what was going on, but I think one pony decided to pull out a gun and fire back.

Another crack rang, followed by a gaping hole in the head of another gang member. The aftermath was me being showered in blood.

I just wanted to get on my legs and start galloping, as far away from this horrible part of town as possible. It wasn't possible to even move. The sniper—I've decided they were gunshots—mowed down about half of them before the other half scurried away.

I noticed I began to have a slight, offbeat twitch in my leg and eye, and I started losing consciousness. I also realized my hind legs were swimming in a pool of blood, and I couldn’t tell who the blood originally belonged to. I began to hear a faint running of hooves on concrete, and as the clopping sound they made became closer, I felt like I was getting closer towards death.

A white stallion with red eyes—or at least I thought they were red, everything seemed like it was at this point—and a crimson red, spiky mane poked his head into view.

“C’mon, girl! If we’re going to survive The Mayor’s goons, we have to get out of here, now.” It was a very determined and smooth voice, like that of a secret agent from of a film, but not so obvious or profound.

He slung what looked like a sniper rifle behind his back, and then proceeded to pick me up and sling my foreleg around him. He turned around and began slowly trotting towards an alleyway I didn’t think I had been through before. The sudden movement interfered with my vision even further.

“W-where are we going...?” I asked, spitting out blood and attempting to raise my forehoof in the opposite direction. “The clinic is that way...”

“Oh, we’re not going to the clinic,” replied the mysterious aid.

I woke up as a disoriented mess. I tried to get up to get a synopsis of my surroundings, when the stallion swiftly stepped towards me.

“Woah woah woah, don’t move so fast, take it easy!”

He made it sound like I was freaking out, and I just may have been. The stallion slumped away, and made his way over to what looked like a laptop in the corner of the room.

I slowly sat up and rested my head against the headboard behind me, trying to reorient myself with the world. As my vision gradually got better, I noticed that this was an actual bed, not just a cot. The room I was in had a slate-colored drywall and linoleum, and was about half the size of a child’s room. To my right was a desk with a laptop and a record player resting on top of it, with the stallion—who I just realized was wearing a red vest—sitting in front of it, appearing to be monitoring something. Above his desk were multiple drawings and sketches in a two-dimensional, almost cartoony form of art.

On the wall in front of me were a few posters here and there. One depicted a white pony with a cerulean blue mane and purple glasses that looked like she was having fun. It read: “Equestrian 7 Music Festival: Vinyl Scratch performing LIVE!” Another poster featured a large red circle in the corner with rays protruding out in all directions, extending to the edge of the poster. It featured the silhouettes of six ponies in front of the rays of what I thought to be the sun.

While I tried to relax and get a grip on my surroundings, the stallion cut through the silence.

“Hey, ya like music?”

The question caught me off guard, especially after what had happened.

“Sure, bu—“

Before I could finish my sentence, the stallion eagerly withdrew a record out of a nearby bag, flipped it around between his hooves, and stuffed it into the record player.

A nice electronic melody played, backed by steady consistent beats. At first, I was confused by the nature of the song, for I have never heard music like this before. Here in Industead, the only music anyone listened to were classics, even so on rare occasion. Or, if you were a thug, you most likely listened to death metal. But this, this made you feel good. This wasn’t just a sound to keep you occupied or fill your ears with.

For the first time in Celestia-knows-how-long, I felt... good. Even though I was brutally beaten nearly to death, this music felt like it connected with me. Every beat, every wave of the music dug deeper and deeper, and I eventually felt like I was part of the music. I just resonated with every sound wave, every beat. My hind leg—the right one, the left was broken—even began to moved to the music, and I hadn’t realized it.

“What’s this kind of music called?” I asked the stallion whose name was still unbeknownst to me. It took me a second to realize his head was bobbing slightly behind the setup, but he was still monitoring something on his laptop.

“My friend, this is trance. The melodic, uplifting electronic music that IS trance. You could go all night listening to this, it won’t get old, it’ll only make you feel good and put pep in your step and a roll in your soul, if you know what I mean. It’s like magic in a sound wave!”

I shot the eccentric stallion a funny look mixed with a smile, and he shot one back. And then I became aware of all the things that he just said.

Friend. Feeling good. Magic. He used it all in one sentence.

Obviously I know he didn’t actually mean I was his close friend. I mean, we just met. But, there was that sense of friendliness and happiness when he used it. He wasn’t like the other ponies in Industead.

Then the song ended.

“Play another!” I said, shooting him a grin composed of a mixture of support and gratitude. And he did just that.

For once in my life, I felt like all was right with the world. That is, if the whole world was just this tiny room with two ponies and great music playing. The stallion played record after record after record of various artists such as Bagpipe Brony and Vinyl Scratch. I was starting to feel the one thing I’ve been longing for. Friendship. And it felt good.

After one of the tracks ended, the red stallion put away the record in one of his many saddlebags and looked at the wall with the array of drawings, and it seemed he was looking at one in specific. It was a silhouette of a DJ in front of some flashing lights, with a crowd of ponies cheering for the DJ.

“Did you draw those?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Sure did.” The stallion’s cheery smile then turned into a bit of a frown as he looked down. His eyes then panned to the other side of the room and then to the poster with six ponies and the rising sun. “Do you know what the rising sun symbolizes?”

“Uh, well...” I replied, not sure how to respond to his odd question. “I don’t.”

“The rising sun symbolizes rising up from nothing and, in a word, spreading your wings. Expand your horizons.”

He took off his red vest, revealing his pegasus wings and spreading them to his full wingspan.

I was dumbfounded. I had never really seen a pegasus before, only heard stories about how they would occasionally soar over the town. The Mayor banned them from the town when the town was founded, and everyone blindly followed suit, discriminating against anyone that was different from earth ponies. If any pegasi were found, they were publicly executed. It was the same way if a unicorn used magic, but you were given a harsh warning first. I told him all of this. However, this pegasus is living in Industead. And from the looks of his little hideout, he’s been here for quite a while. But why haven’t I seen him in town before?

“H-how are you...?” My train of thought was derailing, and I couldn’t think of a way to finish the sentence.

“Well, you see, it was really easy. Industeadians only have their eyes and noses to the ground, and not to the sky, where they should be.” He explained, and gave me a hinting wink.”I simply flew over the fence behind a building, put my vest on, and lived mostly on the rooftops.”

I was a little insulted by his crack about my native town, but I pushed the thought aside. “But why do you have a hideout in an old, vacant room?”

“Well for one thing, it has cleaner air. And from the way those smokestacks cough up smoke, I’d need a gasmask to stay alive up there.”

I was still thinking about this. We had a murderous fugitive living in Industead. Living in our alleys and on our rooftops. He had the skill of an expert marksman, it seemed like, and he was a pegasus. Of somepony of his caliber, what was he doing in the tiny, oppressive and povertous town of Industead? Just passing through would pose multiple health code violations, and living here would be a daily struggle. He also knew they wouldn’t let him out willingly, so why was he here?

“What is somepony like you doing in Industead?” I asked, replicating my thoughts.

He seemed to ignore my question and began shuffling his now balled-up red vest around in his hooves. After a small fit of shuffling, he seemed to have found what he wanted, and pulled off a pin the front of the balled-up vest, and showed it to me.

“See this?” He shoved the pin in my direction. It was of rather simple design, taking the shape of two, large white capital R’s. “This is why, but at the same time it’s the exact opposite.”

The eccentric stallion managed to confuse me for approximately the fifth time in one day.

“You see,” he began, “This is a standard issue Red Remnant pin, all members are required to wear one. Ever heard of us?”

“Err. Well, yes. The only thing I know know about them is that The Mayor doesn’t allow anything of the sort in Industead, and he calls them squabbling, traitorous tribe-folk.”

“Traitorous? That’s horse manure!” Red was steamed at this point and stomped a forehoof on the ground. “We arise from corrupt towns like these to put Equestria back in the times of the Old Days, where friendship and peace was the everyday norm! We rise from nothing and spread out and take what rightfully belonged to Celestia—“ The stallion stopped himself in the middle of his rant.

The stallion took a breath before continuing this time, in a more controlled manner. “Basically, what we do is that we scout out a town for a little while, you know; keep it under watch. If something catches the scout’s attention, he or she reports it back to HQ through our secure network. When the time is right, we gather elite soldiers and forces together and resist against the leader, along with any townsfolk who want to join us. After we do that, we appoint one of our high-ranking members to be leader of the city.”

“Do a lot of ponies get hurt?” I couldn’t help but ask, pathetically.

“I don’t know,” he said, somewhat sarcastically as his eyes rolled and shifted towards his sniper rifle, of which was leaning against the wall. “Do they?”

He got his message across as I shuddered at my memory being bathed in blood, which I barely remember. Just the small bit I seemed to retain will still haunt me for the rest of my life.

Out of context, I glanced back over at his sniper rifle, which was truly a work of art. The gun’s base color was red, and lots of little buttons and pieces on it were a nice, bright white. This included, but was not limited to, the trigger, magazine releases, the barrel protruding out of the front, and the rail on top. But that wasn’t the thing that caught my eye.

The one thing that made this gun stand out was the white decal of the rising sun that sprawled itself out on one side of the rifle, in all directions, only stopping where the boundaries of the firearm’s shell did.

I then peered over at his cutie mark and noticed he was looking at the balled up vest glumly. He had the rising sun for a cutie mark, but it had a circular, hollowed out space in the center, filled in by what I imagined to be crosshairs. He was obviously a sniper, and a very skilled one at that. His skills saved my life.

“So, where’d you get that rifle?” I couldn’t help but to ask.

He sat back down at his setup, in the original position that I first saw him. Then I could see his head sink in the glow of the laptop he was at. “Somepony made it for me.”

“Oh. Who?”

“Somepony...” His voice trailed off and I could see that he was in deep thought.

“Well, who?” I was starting to poke and prod in places I shouldn’t have, and a moment later I would regret it.

“Luna-dammit!” He yelled, reverberating off the stone walls. He slammed his hoof into the wall, quaking the room and making my heart sink like a rock. He spun around a full one-eighty degrees before shouting: “Somepony, okay?!”

I let out a yelp I didn’t know I could make when he shot me the darkest glare I will ever witness.

I sank back in the bed as much as a pony could, and let out a few tears. I didn’t know it was such a sensitive spot, I just wanted to know more about him... I was just curious. I had never met another pony that would actually want to talk to me, and here he was, shouting at me...

“I’m sorry, I...” It was hard to continue without letting out more tears. “It’s just that nopony ever wanted to talk to me, and I’m not a very social butterfly, and I just wanted to know more about you... and...”

“No, don’t be...” He said, changing his dark, angry tone to a more sorrowful one as he stared at the linoleum. “It’s just kind of a personal thing.”

I rolled over at the cot, shuddering and still quaking on the inside. I didn’t know who that somepony is and now I really don’t want to know.

The sky was swapping out its twilight colors in place for the dark, dreary night. The silence between us lingered. I couldn’t get the mental image of the stallion snapping at me out of my head. It haunted, it lingered like the silence. I have to placate the mental replay back into its cage with good thoughts of Old Equestria. But even that didn’t work.

The stallion got up and sighed again. “Looks like you had better get some sleep."

The question pierced the silence, and I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Especially after what happened. I slowly turned over, and to my surprise, I could see the stallion pointing his nose towards the floor, hiding his face from view with his mane.

“Where will you sleep?” I asked, finally, after an elongated silence.

He took his rifle off the wall and a mask laying on a desk and began walking towards the door. “I’ll be on the roof.” Before I could say anything, the door closed with a click!

I couldn’t help but think about it. And by 'it' I mean everything that happened within the past day or two. My beat-down, and his rescuing of me. Being here in this hideout. The Red Remnants. The way the stallion snapped at me. There was obviously a side to him that he doesn’t show the world. But that’s his life, and poking and prodding where it isn’t my business forces bad things to happen, especially since I just met him. I don’t even know his name yet! After all, curiosity killed the pony. Still...

After my string of thoughts, I attempted to get out of the bed. I couldn’t walk at all, and I staggered multiple times before I was able to get from point A to point B without failing. I walked around the room a few times, and discovered that the main source of my inability to walk was from the splint on my leg. I can deal with it, of course. Then my curiosity got the best of me.

I looked over at his laptop, and I could see that he was monitoring multiple cameras throughout Equestria. One involved this old town in ruins I couldn’t seem to identify. Another was of this old, rather large factory with crude letters written on the front of it, reading: “Canon”. I skimmed over them until there was a place I could recognize.

Industead. He managed to rig up a sort of camera in Industead.

It viewed the main plaza, as well as the balcony of The Mayor’s office. I saw there was another camera view, and it was of the place I had my beat-down.

So this is how he found me. The question was, why did he help me?

I walked out of the door of his hideout into the smog-covered night, propping the door open as to be weary of it locking automatically. I spotted a ladder next to the door, and took my shot at traveling up.

It proved difficult, but I managed a system in which my two forehooves would pull me up and only one hind leg would push me up the ladder.

I reached the top, feeling triumphant but was also cautious as not to fall. I looked around. On the rooftop was a bedroll leaned against an inactive smokestack with various cans of food stacked next to it. My eyes panned across the rooftop, and I could see a silhouette of a stallion in the light of the moon, who I presumed to be the same one that saved my life.

He was sitting down, his mane blowing in the wind, accompanied by his Rising Sun rifle, which was propped up against him. I could see a kind of cloth—bandage, maybe—tied to the barrel of the gun, flapping in the wind, and his mane followed suit. I watched his majestic nature for a minute or two, when I could see his head fall between his shoulders, and I could hear a faint, soft, controlled sob, which lasted for what seemed like several minutes.

I headed back down the ladder. I had already seen too much.

The next morning, the stallion was leaning against a wall on a stool in the hideout, subtly bobbing his head up and down with two white cords stuck into his ears.

I sat up and stretched, and attempted to apologize, but he seemed to know and beat me to it. “Hey, listen, uh...” I began.

“No worries.” He stated, abnormally loud. I began to wonder if those white cords were blocking his hearing, forcing him to speak louder. He removed one of the cords with his hoof, and leaned backwards, putting his hooves behind his head and crossing his hind legs. His voiced dropped to a natural level volume. “I know what you’re about to say. And I’m going to stop you, because the only one that should be apologizing is me. I acted like a little colt last night, and I’m sorry. Just because it was personal, that doesn’t mean I need to yell and punch things.”

He doesn’t know how glad I am to hear that. Still, I won’t ever be able to live down the way he snapped at me, but I shouldn’t have been so nosy. So I see it as a fair tradeoff.

“I’m also sorry for something else.” The stallion’s statement kind of threw me off, and he leaned forward, taking out the other cord. “I had never properly introduced myself.”

I looked at the stallion with a blank stare, and after a few seconds I stuttered: “M-my name is Rain.”

“Red.” He said, reaching his hoof out to me.

After a brief moment of social awkwardness, I looked at his hoof and realized what it was I was supposed to do. I reached my own hoof out, causing our hooves to make contact, producing a byproduct that rose from absolutely nothing. Over time, I knew, it would spread its wings and it would develop. I then began to understand the true meaning of the rising sun and how it fits into our lives.

That byproduct? Friendship.

Over the course of the next week or so, life was pretty dim for me, with the exception of the time that Red was in the hideout. When he was, he was constantly checking over at what he was monitoring, but when he wasn’t, he took the time out to show me some things.

Firstly, he showed me how to fire a gun called a sawed-off shotgun. All I do is snap the gun in half using a release, put two shells in, and snap the barrel back into position. It was then ready to give off a deadly spray of flaks, shredding apart anything near. All I had to do was pull the trigger. It was a gift from him to me.

I really hoped I would never have to use it though.

Afterwards, he gave me what was called a Spitfire Strap. It went around my neck and fastened at my left. From there, it was designed to hold smaller, compact weapons like the one I just received. Protruding from the strap were two cables that extended out in front of my muzzle, and conjoined to form a sort of cylindrical piece divided into two sections. One section was colored a light grey and was larger than the other, and centered itself in front of my muzzle. Red explained that, by biting on this, it would fire the weapon. The other division, however, was somewhat smaller and off to the left. By biting on this, it would knock the release, ejecting the used shells. I could then put new ones in, and repeat the process. It was difficult to use at first, but after a while I got the hang of it. It seemed easier than using it manually.

Then I told him about the journal I had. Twilight Sparkle’s journal from one-hundred and fifty years ago.

“You have WHAT?!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Twilight’s journal. If you’re interested in reading it, you can. It’s in my saddlebags over there.”

“That’s impossible, though... Nobody we know has seen it in well... Ever.” Red materialized himself in front of the saddlebags and began plundering their contents. He found what he was looking for, and carefully picked up the journal in triumph and awe.

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for this?” He began looking at each page.

“By we, do you mean the Red Remnants?” I asked.

“Sure do, we’re trying to learn what really happened way back when.” His eyes focused on the book. “And we think Twi’s journal can tell us.”

“But all we know of is that mysterious ice-age incident in Canterlot.”

“Yes, but there has to be a reason why. There has to be a reason why it happened. Everything happens for a reason. There’s more, I know of it..." His voice trailed off as his eyes flew across page after page.

“Well, yes, but I don’t think we’ll ever know what really happened.” I’ve heard rumors that that whole place is a hellhole. The cloud is still there, swirling and blanketing the whole town in feet of snow and rendering the city uninhabitable. I’ve also heard of stories in which ponies would freeze as instantly as they did when the disaster first hit.

When I could see that he had finished the last page, his head drooped towards the floor in dismay. “There are too many pages missing...” he admitted, glumly. “Where are they?”

“No clue, it was like that when I got it.” I had always wondered why that was the case.

“How did you manage to get it?”

“It was passed down my family.”

Red currently seemed in thought, and eventually leaned down to put Twilight’s journal back in the saddlebags, where it was before. Upon coming back up, his eyes stayed on my bags for a while, until he finally shot me a determined look. “We’ll figure it out eventually.”

Over the week, Red was in and out of the hideout, like clockwork, as if he worked in Industead. He said they were “Reconnaissance Duties” or in other words, the scouting thing he does. He would be gone for hours at a time, and I would be left in solitude. Out of boredom, I would occasionally see Red darting across the camera’s view on the video feed he was receiving. I was really hoping that The Mayor didn’t have access to his cameras.

One day, I asked if Red could take me on one of his recon ‘missions’. He smiled and said “Maybe when you can keep up with me, or for that matter, walk.” Yeah, he was right. I could barely get up a ladder. I couldn’t even walk.

To kill the time and give me some kind of entertainment, I carefully pulled out a record out of Red’s collection. I put it in the record player.

It was day six, and Red was on another reconnaissance mission. After a while, I began to feel like Red himself. I was sitting at his setup, monitoring his cameras—which he approved, probably knowing that nothing happens on those cameras anyways—and listening to trance music. It was easier to move, and I could pretty much do it without fail. I even managed to climb up a ladder last night.

I had listened to all the trance the Red had on record. Realizing this, I remembered his words: “It won’t get old”, and repeated his whole playlist.

Upon snooping through the directories on his computer, I managed to find a folder labeled “Music”. I clicked on it.

A list of different tracks I don’t think I’ve heard before outstretched itself down the screen. These were of different types, I realized when I began playing them. Not what I’m attuned to being in Red’s hideout, but good nonetheless.

Sitting back and watching the cameras, I saw what looked to be a gunfight unfold on one of them. It was in a ghost town, and rotted-away buildings lined themselves parallel to each other and extended out of the cameras view. Dirt-sand—this confusing sediment seemed to be everywhere—covered all the places that the buildings did not. The camera appeared to be secured tightly on top of a building.

It played out like a cheesy western movie. Good guys vs. bad guys, I thought. At first, it looked like a drug deal at first, and I frowned upon realizing this. They were divided into two ‘sides’, lining themselves up, facing each other like the buildings did. Then one of them pulled out a gun, and it got ugly at that point.

It was a stallion in a cowboy hat and brown vest. I could see a gold shiny pistol float out of his holster—Apparently he was a magic-user—and shot two other ponies. The color of his coat was extremely hard to tell, and he striked me as particularly mysterious.

BLAM!

I was appalled at what I was seeing, and very frightened by what was going on. Luckily, however, the building that the camera resided on blocked out most of the blood and gore, so I was intrigued for a little while longer. Both sides trotted backwards from their original standpoints to take cover in the building wreckage. Nopony else was shot that I could see, as they exchanged fire at each other through the empty space in the aisle of buildings. They exchanged gunfire for a little bit, and it seemed to seize. I don’t know whether they killed each other or one side got away. I wondered if Red needed to know about this.

I watched the cameras and all the inactivity they presented. In Industead, ponies walked around with their noses towards the ground, as usual. Various parts of the wasteland were... Empty. And uneventful.

Industead is pathetic. I knew I was part of Industead, and that it was my home. Even though it was the only civilization on the camera list Red had, I knew that other places had to be different. There was more to my life than Industead, and dying in it. I wanted to rise up, and spread my wings.

All of a sudden, the two Industead cameras turned to static for a brief second, and went black.

What the hell?

I sat forward, examining the screen and assuming that they would be back momentarily.

But they weren’t.

Okay, Red needed to know about this.

At that same moment, I could hear the intercom sound off outside in the plaza. It was rarely used, usually only for emergencies or announcements. The Mayor’s voice broadcasted through the intercom.

“Rain, come to the The Mayor’s office for a discussion. Repeat: Rain, come to The Mayor’s office for a discussion.”

My heart seemed to stop for several seconds and it felt like my brain shut down for several minutes. I froze there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do, when Red barged in, breaking the eternal stalemate with myself.

“Did you hear that?” He said, exasperated and panting. He must have been running across rooftops again.

I turned stiffly. “I sure did.”

I approached the ominous entrance to The Mayor’s estate. I looked up at it, and I saw his famous balcony from which he hosts ‘events’ or makes personal announcements from on rare occasion. I could feel my knees quaking in fear of what could happen. They wanted to give out and let my pathetic body crash to the ground, even though Red and I formulated a plan in case something went wrong. The ominous mansion looked back down at me, insisting that I enter, when the guards agreed with the entrancing building.

“Rain?” One asked, monotonously.

“Y-yes?” I replied. I was still quaking and couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of the manor house. I had no clue what he wanted with me, and I really hope he doesn’t know about Red. I found it strange how he called for me personally right after the cameras gave out, and I was almost certain that’s what it was about.

“We’ll escort you to his office.”

When I got out of my trance—not the good kind you get from good music or a good story—my heart sank and swelled with anger as I found myself moving through corridors of utmost beauty.

Masterpieces of various artists from all over Equestria lined the walls. Most were stately paintings of Old Equestrian landscapes and other portraits of various stallions and mares. The flooring was composed of black and pale blue tiling, stretching out in front of me as I moved toward the end of the hallway. Various sculptures took form as we neared them. One, I could make out, was of a worker pony with a pickaxe, mining something. Another was of a cogwheel suspended by what looked like rickety scaffolding.

As we rounded a corner, a poster came into view. It featured what looked like Princess Celestia, the first poster I’ve ever seen of her. She was wearing steampunk-style clothing, including goggles and a leather cap. Behind her, I could see worker ponies carrying some kind of resource up a hill to a factory. The top of the poster read: “INDUSTRY”, and the bottom read: “It’s what CELESTIA wants.”

I was infuriated.

I almost broke away from the duo of guards to go rip the poster off the wall and banish it. Or, maybe lock it up in a dungeon somewhere. Or banish it and lock it up in the place it was banished. This was a disgrace. Celestia didn’t ask for ponies to be enslaved for the rest of their lives, working them to the bone by their slave-drivers just to stay alive. She never wanted this.

“Hey, calm down, filly!”

I snapped out of my contemplation and anger, to see one of the guards restraining one of my forehooves. I hadn’t realized I actually showed I was livid.

We approached a pompously designed stairwell. The rail was trimmed with gold, and the scarlet carpet was also trimmed with a string of gold that descended down the staircase on either side, cutting off only when it hit the linoleum. The stairwell looked like it only contained ten or twelve steps. I assumed this was his office.

One of the guards accompanying me walked up the steps and carefully opened the door to his quarters while the other guard to my left escorted me up the stairs. I could see the left side of a desk beyond the doorframe to his quarters, as well as a bookshelf lining the wall. In front of the desk, lay a comfortable-looking seat, where I presumed I would be while “discussing” with the Mayor.

“The Mayor will see you now.” The guard said flatly, before leaving me in the room with the stallion I had dreaded all my life, the stallion that made Industead into what it is today. The doors shut behind me.

“Hello, Rain.” The Mayor said, spinning around in his chair to face me. “How good it is see you. You may sit down, now.”

My stomach lurched. Behind me were the windows and balcony to his office, just as Red and I presumed in our plan. I, of course, had no choice but to see and speak with The Mayor, one on one.

You see, Red offered to stay on a nearby rooftop placed conveniently in front of The Mayor’s office, so he had a good, clear view of the balcony and the inside of the office through his windows. He was positioned, out of sight, with his trusty Rising Sun sniper rifle. If anything went wrong, he would know, and put an end to it. But if something did go wrong, it would probably mean that we would have to leave Industead immediately. His guards were loyal, we knew, and would surely attack us if The Mayor was shot, or if even a shot was fired. In the case that there was a mishap, I had my sawed-off shotgun with me in my saddlebags for good measure. That was something the guards neglected to do: search me.

“You’ve been gone for quite a while, ever since that incident at your workplace.” The Mayor’s desk was now facing me, and I could see a desktop monitor blocking the bottom end of his face. In front of the monitor was a nameplate reading “Sand Gorman”. Huh. So that was his name.

He had a dusty, tan coat and a masculine, jar-head kind of mane cut almost down to his scalp. He had a map with red and blue lines drawn all over it as a cutie mark, which I guess symbolized trade. Overall, he looked like a pretty generic pony, except for his age. Faint wrinkles could be seen here and there on his face and neck, but nothing too extreme. The glow from the CPU he was at seemed to make the wrinkles more evident, though.

His head poked around the monitor to divert all of his attention to me. “You remember, don’t you?”

I was still frozen by his presence. “T-the incident?” At first, my thoughts were slurred as well as my speech, but then I managed to recall. “Oh! That...” I was almost ashamed to speak about what happened to me.

“The way you saved that stallion was unacceptable. You saved me only one of my workers, at the cost of two very expensive machines,”he explained. “Not only that, you used magic to save him, and that’s against the ways of the earth ponies.”

Okay, I knew this guy was a ass, but seriously? Sure, at first I thought he was talking about my near-death incident, but he’s complaining I ruined some machinery to save a life?! I used a lever to gunk up a machine to prevent him from being flattened into a coin! I told him this

“Yes, dear Rain, I know.” He spun around in his chair and kicked his hind legs up, facing the bookshelf. “But the damage was so severe I will have to revoke your pay for five months to pay it off.”

Bastard! He had it all worked out already, because it was so important to him... Hell, the gold trimming on the stairs was probably worth enough to force all of Industead into prosperity! Why not do that instead of force my whole family, or what’s left of it, to go homeless?!

“Oh, also, I’ll need you to relinquish your saddlebags for the time being, while you’re in my office.”

Argh! I levitated my saddlebags and placed them next to his desk. He better not confiscate anything that doesn’t belong to him.

After relinquishing my belongings over, my ominous, nervous feeling turned into hatred. “Look, Gorman, I had to save his life! It was the right thing to do-"

“Well the right thing doesn’t make us money! And that’s what Equestria is dependent on nowadays: money.”

I swear, if I still had my shotgun with me, he wouldn’t have a head.

He turned to look at the screen yet again. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

He got up, picking up my saddlebags, and sifted through one of them, out of sight of the window. Thank the goddesses it wasn't the one with my shotgun in it. He walked behind his desk again, leaning behind it and began working at something behind his desk.

I was assured it was a safe when I heard a metal door open and shut, sealing away my saddlebags. He got up, and sat down in his swivel chair. He put his hooves behind his head, and kicked his feet up, looking at the screen for the third time... as if he was monitoring something.

So, I was scolded for saving a life and had all of my stuff taken from me. My weapon, my bat, Twilight’s journal... Everything. And the worst hadn’t even started.

“No no, that’s not why you’re here at all.” He seemed to have a smug look on his face. “It’s regarding where you’ve been for the past week or so.” He turned his monitor around to face me.

On the monitor, were the views of cameras all over Industead. Two of them were the same ones I looked at in Red’s place before they went to static. Another one, was focused on the steel door of Red’s hideout.

“And yes, I know you’ve been scheming with a Red Remnant.”

My heart skipped a beat. Or a couple. Maybe enough to the point that I should have died.

He trotted over towards the window, and closed the blinds, sealing about fifty percent of the light out of the room. He looked at me with a grin. Red now had no idea what was going on in here and wouldn’t be able to get a clean shot, since something was clearly wrong.

I gulped.

From behind him, he pulled out and flashed a dirty, gold gun from behind his flank, which looked very similar to that one stallion’s pistol in the gunfight that I watched on camera earlier today.

He was going to shoot me. My life would end here, because I saved somepony’s life, and got along with a member of a group of revolutionaries.

Oh, merciful Celestia! Red, please do something!

BLAM!

To my surprise, I was still living, and the shot didn’t come from The Mayor’s golden gun. It came from outside, and it sounded like a sniper rifle. The shot didn’t strike anything in the room. It was just a loud gunshot from where I thought Red to be.

Red. He fired off a round.

The mayor staggered at the sound of the gunshot and therefore, took his attention off of me. He foalishly dashed off onto the balcony to investigate the shot from his estate.

BLAM!

Another shot rang off through the air, and a bullet made its way through the window, showering the room in glass.

When the glass shards finally settled into the office, I could clearly see that the bullet didn’t just penetrate the window. From the opening of the window to The Mayor’s desk remained a side winding trail of blood.

The Mayor had been assassinated by Red.

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 3

I stared in disbelief as I crept back unsteadily towards the bookshelf. Red had fired a decoy shot, I assumed, to surprise and lure The Mayor out onto his balcony. Apparently Red knew one of two things: he knew something went wrong, or that it was time to start rebelling against Industead. The latter is unlikely, considering he only had himself to do it.

I went into a state of uncontrolled panic. My eyes zipped around the room and I tried to think of what to do, as I could hear guards bustling about in the streets.

I put my hoof to my head, trying to re-rail my train of thought. Even so, a few passengers of that train would be missing. First, I needed my saddlebags.

Out of the dead bastard’s safe.

I was instantly behind his desk, examining the storage unit. It did, in fact, take a key. My hooves began flying through drawers trying to find a key, when I remembered he kept the key on him when he was walking across the room to shut the blinds.

I crept back again and shuddered at the thought of the headless stallion’s body and how much it probably reeked. Sucking it up, I pulled myself across the floor and opened the door to his balcony.

The body was appalling. The whole HEAD wasn’t even gone, it looked like a smashed pumpkin, and the pieces of it were left in the building. He was toppled over against the window sill, of course in the direction that the bullet must have come from.

Luckily, I didn’t have to look far, because the same key I was looking for rested right next to him. Grimacing and whining, I reached over the deceased ‘mayor’ and grabbed it.

Contracting my arm back to my body, I sheepishly realized I could have just used my telekinesis instead of wasting time. I also noticed the golden pistol that he had, lying next to him and I grasped it with my telekinesis.

As I did so, I looked up in the direction of the fire and gave The Mayor’s assailant a sheepish grin.

BLAM!

A bullet penetrated itself into the estate’s wall right behind me, showering splinters of wood forward into view.

I don’t think it was Red.

Panicked and confused, yet again, I dropped the gun and threw myself in through the door, still unable to think clearly. By this time, I was breathing at an abnormal rate and I attempted to control it as I kept my head down, crawling towards the safe.

‘What happened to Red?’ was the thought running through my mind, blockading any sort of focus. My thoughts seemed to align themselves once again as the safe came open with a click.

Inside were my saddlebags as well as three other things: a faded gold clip for the pistol I saw outside, and a folded up, worn piece of paper. I also saw a brown vest, which seemed to accommodate smaller rifles, as well as a smaller gun. It reminded me very much of the Spitfire Strap I was given, but more complicated and in vest form. Through the collar a muzzle piece could be threaded, like the one on my Spitfire Strap.

I thought about the gun outside, but getting it would probably result in my brains going in the same window as Gorman’s. In a panic, I grabbed them all with my telekinesis and put my saddlebags on. Then, I equipped my aluminum bat and my Spitfire Strap, and hooked up my sawed-off shotgun. I really hope I don’t have to use it.

I seemed to have a second to calm down. I had only now realized that ponies were panicking and screaming down on the streets below. Guards must have been moving down the hallways and I could hear hoof-stomps on the cobblestone outside. I know I need to escape Industead. But I’m not doing it without Red. But the question remained... where on Celestia’s plane was he?

I threw myself from behind the desk and into the door of his office. I did so to get away from the new sniper’s view while darting out of the office, if he or she was still there.

The door came down with ease, shooting me through the elegant doorway as I tumbled down five or so of the ten stairs before controlling my acceleration. I walked down the remainder of the steps, readjusting the Spitfire Strap that was knocked out of place.

Walking slowly, I approached the same corner we rounded before arriving at Gorman’s office.

Then I looked at the wall. To my frustration, the poster of Industeadian Celestia was still there. Then I got a closer look at it, and couldn’t help but notice all of the pony workers in the background were actually stallions, and they were all smiling.

In a tantrum, I tore the poster off the wall and shoved it aside. Gorman's ruined all these ponies’ lives so he could benefit himself. What a selfish bastard.

Recovering from my fit of rage, the sounds of hooves on linoleum found their way into my eardrums. Guards were coming... fast.

I hugged the wall, facing the corner. I held the bat in one hoof, in the case that the guards came around hostilely.

In fact, they did. At least it looked like they did. A high-tech looking weapon beyond my own comprehension made its way into my line of sight around the corner, followed by a stallion in scrap armor.

I took the one nearest me by surprise with my bat. He took a fierce blow to the forehead, not enough to kill him, but knock him out cold and forced his weapon to the floor. His twin-like companion to his left turned his head to face me just his friend took a number from my aluminum bat.

He stopped his trot to raise his weapon, or well, at least tried to stop. His hooves foalishly made their way onto the poster I just mangled, and he fumbled, sending the weapon across the floor which was now out of his reach. I chuckled a bit, but focused on the stallion after a little comic relief. My brain quickly interpreted that his thrown-away weapon was a magnum of some sort.

The guard stallion didn’t get up, but just laid there and looked at his disarmed weapon from across the corridor. He then turned his head to me, with an expression that made it seem as if he was expecting to end up like his companion.

I had no intention of attacking him any further. I had the idea to interrogate him, but only one question came to mind.

“Where is Red?!” My shotgun was now levitating inches from his face, enveloped in my telekinesis.

His eyes couldn’t help but widen as he looked down into the gun’s barrel. “Come again?”

I rolled my eyes and shoved the twin barrels of my sawed-off shotgun closer to his face than I thought possible. “White stallion. Red mane. Red eyes. Maybe you’ve seen him?”

He attempted to stay stoic, but failed at doing so. He was trembling. “N-no idea.”

“C’mon, you guards have to know something!”

“We don’t... I...”

Before he could finish his sentence, I shoved the twin barrels into his neck, my magic ready to pull the trigger. I had lost all patience. “Where is Red?!”

I stared him down with eyes of rage. He stared back with hopelessness, since he knew all I had to do was decide that his life was over.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

After several seconds, I pulled the gun away, finally giving the stressed stallion some breathing room. I went to the other side of the corridor where I originally planted myself when they rounded the corner. After taking a heavy breath, I finally looked around my altered surroundings.

I was sitting against the wall in front of the site of the poster’s original spot. Directly in front of me was the jumbled poster itself, along with the guard stallion laying on it, who was now staring at the floor.

To my left I saw the body of the first stallion I assaulted. He had a sandy coat and a grey mane. He wasn’t dead, but he sure wasn’t getting up for a while. My eyes then turned to the beauty and oddity of his weapon.

It was the true work of an industrialist. This was appalling to me in some ways due to the nature of this town, but in other ways intrigued me. The machinery and production I’ve seen have both been so stale. Make this over and over again, then ship it and make money. Then, use the money to repeat the process.

But this looked like it had many, many hours of love into it. It featured goldish pipes lining the black shell of the gun in every which way, and I could clearly see that it was a very unique gun in more than just appearance.

Even though it was appealing to the eye, it didn’t look like it took a familiar form of ammunition: bullets.

It didn’t take bullets. I inspected the gun, keeping an eye on the stallion in front of me. After playing with it for a little while, I managed to get a weird compartment to pop out of the side of the rifle. A brilliant red gem could be seen in it. The gem itself was worn down and seemed faded slightly, but I wondered how much it was worth. I prodded at the gun to try to uncover the secret to firing it, but I made sure to be very careful as to not do anything stupid handling the gun. I had lots of time here. The stallion in front of me wasn’t going anywhere.

Or, at least I thought he wasn’t. In one quick motion, the stallion shot up out of the corner of my eye and darted towards where his gun lay.

I panicked a little and clenched the work of art with my telekinesis. My purple magic enveloped the gun and due to the fact I was suddenly tense, my magic squeezed at it from all angles. The gun, to my astonishment, let out a brilliant, crimson burst of light that formed itself into a kind of laser. The red beam outstretched itself way into the stallion’s flank. No, through the stallion’s flank.

And into the wall behind him as well.

The guard toppled forward, ramming his face into the wall in front of him. He slid down pathetically against it as blood spewed out of the gaping hole in his side.

I was in utter disbelief at two things, the first being the fact that the laser just burned an eight-inch hole through multiple objects. The second was that I probably just killed somepony.

The latter seemed to shock me the most. I couldn’t have killed somepony...

The alarm began to go off, slicing through my regret. I paused, looked down the hallway, and back at the quickly dying stallion. I had to leave him, I had no time to patch him up, nor did I have anything to do so with.

I strapped the rifle to my back, and made sure my Spitfire Strap was hooked up properly before trotting around the corner.

I found myself behind a pile of toppled over filing cabinets in the messy wing of the estate. The cabinets were against a wall, and allowed little space for me to crawl through to hide from the guards. I had a good view of the window from here, and I was impossible to spot since I could only look through a small gap between the cabinets.

Ker-lop Ker-lop Ker-lop Ker-lop.

The alarms signaled many guards to rush to the site of The Mayor’s assassination, and they did so right in front of me. I watched the sets of greaves and hooves zoom by the cabinets through the gap between the cabinets, and I knew. I’d be dead if they saw me.

When they were done parading past, I left the cabinets and hugged the wall. I took a step out into the hallway I was in and looked up to read a sign above a doorway.

It read: “Containment”. That sounds like a fancy word for ‘jail’ to me.

I snuck in, shimmying against the wall for good measure. I approached the main doorway to the “Containment Area”. It was really just an old western-themed sheriff’s office with two jail cells, which faced each other from opposite sides of the room. Encasing both cells, except the bar doors, was a brick wall that restricted the contents of either cell from my eyes. Closer to me on the left wall was another pile of filing cabinets. I couldn’t see what was on the wall to the right... The corner I was approaching quietly was blocking my line of sight to that wall. I could hear a profound whistling coming from inside the room.

Then, the whistling cut off and a mare spoke.

“So, what’s it like, rebellin’ against good folk and all?” The voice sounded like it spent some time down in Appleoosa, and was directed at a prisoner.

I could faintly hear chains move from inside the walled cell that shared the right side of the room with the jail-keeper.

She seemed to pause for a minute. “Silent type, eh?” After speaking, I could hear the distinct sound of keys jingling. She got up and moved in front of the cell she was monologuing to. “Look at ya. A Red Remnant. Fabled t’ be the best at what they do, and yer stuck in an Industead jail cell. Ah can smell the irony.”

While she was ‘conversing’ with the prisoner of that cell by which I now assumed was Red, I crept behind the stack of filing cabinets of the wall on the left. I was particularly shadowed here, and even if somepony looked directly at me, it would be very difficult to distinguish me from the shroud of which I hid in.

I sat back, attempting to get comfortable against the cool and dark brick wall. My eyes trailed the mare as she went to go sit down in a chair, presumably the one she plants herself on for hours on end.

Then I was finally able to get a look at the prisoner in the cell across from me. It was, in fact, Red. I could see thrash marks on his cheek and he was clearly beaten and bruised out of sheer discrimination and disrespect for who he was. They weren’t kidding when they announced that they vilified any Remnants residing in Industead.

I had the idea of making a motion towards Red that I was here, but if he was even able to see it, so was the jail keeper.

She was really hindering the plan I was brewing, and there was no way I could remove her. She sat with a very deadly-looking shotgun that could be quickly pulled up and fired, so attacking her was out of the question, had I even the nerve to try it. Her chair even faced me, as if she stared at tipped-over filing cabinets all day.

I crept back, completely hidden by the cabinets and not just the darkness. My heart was beginning to beat at a faster rate and I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I really could do was sit here. My shotgun wasn’t in range to take out the jail keeper without lunging at her, which would get me perforated into a red soup.

I sat against the wall, still out of sight. I tried to think of something, but the only passenger that disembarked my train of thought was waiting.

Waiting. I didn’t like the idea.

I’ve been waiting my whole life on the town to change at least a little, and it’s gotten worse. I tried to make it a better place to be, but I get my leg mangled by my own bat along the road. I get rescued by a seasoned warrior and now I’m attempting to save him from possible execution while chaos reigns outside.

I can see where this is going.

I woke up, disoriented and not quite knowing where I was. My memory kicked back in, and I was still cowering behind the filing cabinets. I was surprised to find that the alarm stopped. The light in the room seemed dimmer, and I adjusted myself to be able to see over the filing cabinets.

The jail keeper was... dead?

Upon looking more intently over the filing cabinets, she sure was. It looked like she took a kind of bullet or stab wound to the neck. She was in her slouched, laid back position I normally saw her in (even if the time I saw her was short). I wondered if she died slowly, being that her eyes are shut. I pushed the thought out of my head, and looked over at Red’s cage, attempting to determine what was going on.

It was open.

How? So, Red escaped through some unfathomable method, avoided the mare’s buckshot that may have never have even went off, and then stabbed her in the neck somehow, possibly with her own knife? All without disturbing my foolish slumber?

The thought of seeing a dead pony was starting to sink in and became a little bit more usual to me. It’s been the norm of the entire day, from the desert gunfight, the assassination, and the guards... all of it. I’ve grown sick and tired of seeing ponies get hurt or die, but... it’s not so bad anymore. Was I being corrupted by gore and violence, that of which my mind has already adapted to?

I shoved out-of-context thoughts out of my brain, and attempted focusing on the matter at hoof. Red and I would already be out of Industead had I just stayed awake. I pondered all things: How did Red get out? Where did he go? Is he alright?

As my eyes fell to the floor in thought, they caught a glimpse of the murder weapon. On the floor lay a combat knife, freshly bathed in blood. At least the blade was, anyways. I took it, and placed it into my saddle strap. I figured I would need all the arms I could get my hooves on. I was saddened when I could not locate the beauty of a shotgun the mare had during her time of life. I imagined that Red took it.

I made sure my Spitfire Strap and saddlebags were optimally equipped, and I decided to search the mare. I was crestfallen once again to find that she had nothing on her except jail keys, which held no value to me now.

I walked out of the “containment area” and into the hallway.

That was an amazingly foalish move. It took me a second to comprehend that it was a guard. A guard covered head to hoof, in blood. I assumed he was panting from galloping down the hallway.

“Stop... right there!” he dictated, giving off a heavy breath between every other word. “You’ve been charged with multiple accounts of murdering government officials, and you will be dealt with as such.”

Eventually, my brain processed through his hyperventilation, and I got the message when he began to raise a sawed-off shotgun, almost identical to mine, and he had a killing look in his eye.

Draw.

I minimized and compacted myself to the floor and my teeth clenched down on the Spitfire Strap’s clamp trigger that extended in front of my muzzle. A mighty flare erupted from my side (where my shotgun was mounted), and I was relieved when the flaks of my shotgun met his chest, and not vice versa.

The blood-drenched guard fell to the ground, with a mighty (and wet) impact.

I found him very odd to say the least. He was covered... in blood. Who’s blood is it? Was it Red’s? Was it another guard’s? Or did somepony else rough him up before he got to me? Whatever the case was, he shouldn’t have been drenched in bit...

I reluctantly searched the body. I had no time and had to swallow my morals if I was to get out of here alive... I couldn’t seem to get over the fact that the stallion was almost entirely red with all the different shades of blood.

I discovered four shotgun shells on the body and found a lot of soot on his standard issue vest. I noticed that the guard had a lot less ammunition on him than a guard should have. The only really useful thing was those shells, considering everything else was slathered with a patchy-looking, bloody camouflage. Literally.

I didn’t have any method of leaving. I only knew of the front door to the estate. Going there would be idiotic. It was probably swarmed with guards, like flies swarming horse manure. The only other exit to the building I could think of was The Mayor’s office. I do remember seeing a ladder that led to both the roof and the ground during my short time out there. After a brief decision, I decided that it would be the best course of action. I doubted the guards would still be there, since I wasted so much time sleeping.

I made sure everything was adjusted properly (I developed a habit of checking subconsciously). I levitated my shotgun with my telekinesis and strapped my surprisingly light magical laser cannon to my Spitfire Strap. It was awkward for a gun that’s a little bigger, but I managed to pull it off comfortably. I trotted off towards the brain-spattered office I left not too long ago, wary of guards.

After some fast-paced trotting, the laser-gun-ray-of-doom-and-death jostled loose, almost crashing to the ground. I came across a janitor’s closet where I assumed I would be safe to do some adjusting.

I threw open the door and cleared some space. Luckily, the closet itself was a bit more like a typical room, leaving plenty of space to unpack some of my things. Ensuring the door was shut, I plundered my saddlebags and pulled out everything.

My possessions didn’t amount to much: I had that brown vest, a few bits, the laser cannon and my shotgun, a bloody knife, my aluminum bat, Twi’s old journal, and a piece of aged paper that looked somewhat torn around the edges.

My eyes flew to the vest that I had planned on using. It fit me well and hug my body perfectly. I integrated my spitfire strap with it, making it a sort of Spitfire Vest. I threaded the mouthpiece through the collar, which reached out comfortably in front of me. I threaded the connecting wires under the coat and surfaced them on my left shoulder. There, I strapped my rifle after some finagling.

My Spitfire Strap only accommodated one weapon, despite the fact that the vest held two weapons. This was fine at the moment, because I only needed something stable enough to hold the laser-whatever-the-buck gun, which was fairly small. It was maybe one and a half times the size of my sawed-off shotgun. I can hold the shotgun with my telekinesis.

This worked beautifully. It was comfortable and within easy and even more practical reach than the Spitfire Strap by itself. However, the rightmost side of the muzzle piece, which was used for reloading the shotgun, is now rendered useless. That is also fine, because I don’t have any gems lying around I can just reload into it. That’s just ridiculous to think about.

I pushed the ludicrous idea of a gem stockpile out of my head and took a moment to relax. After removing the arms from my possessions, what was left was kind of pathetic. I always knew it was, but it just seems so much smaller now.

Twi’s journal, two bits, a magazine for a gun I didn’t have, and a folded up piece of paper.

I looked at the piece of paper and wondered what exactly was on it. I opened it up and I discovered it wasn’t one piece of paper. Another piece of paper fell out, this one being even more aged. The first one I picked up was a map that covered three fourths of the paper. The map was of a general area of Equestria, with the Everfree as the center.

Industead wasn’t on here. Our little town was fenced in and located a few miles off the Everfree Forest, but it’s not on this map. However, in its place, Dustead existed. South of the Everfree I could see a town called Appleloosa. The Mayor was a trade partner with them, that’s all I know. North of the Everfree a trail existed, where my dad supposedly went through on his caravan route. There were lines drawn with some kind of marker between Dustead and Ponyville, and in the midst of them was a circle labeled: “Look here.”

It was an odd thing to see, really. First of all, Dustead doesn’t really exist. It did exist before Gorman’s founding of Industead, however. But that was almost 50 years ago. So this had to be an extremely old map.

Secondly, look where? The circle was massive on the page, approximately the same size as Ponyville on the map. Assuming the cartographer meant in the exact middle, there’s still probably nothing there. Except an old shack, maybe... But look for what?

My focused eyes relaxed and I gave out a hopeless sigh. They then turned to face the other piece of badly-aged paper.

Upon opening it up, I found that it was a kind of journal entry.

“I dealt with the homicidal pony. It clearly wasn't built on the same nature that we Ponyville residents were. I had to kill her. I did. I killed her. I didn't think I would need to ever kill anypony, but she had lost any semblance of reason that was engraved within a pony’s nature.”

What was one of Twilight's journal entries doing in Gorman's safe?! I read on.

“In the name of science, I took a blood sample from her. She was dead, but for a while longer the blood would still be fine. After a very quick test, I discovered she had a sort of drug in her I hadn’t seen before. More came in. I couldn’t do anything, I just couldn’t kill another pony. Like an incompetent foal, I fled. I used my teleport spell.”

I shook my head in absolute disgust after reading and pushed the morbid thoughts out of my mind. I instead began to dwell on the fact that Gorman possessed one of the last entries of the journal.

I folded both pieces of paper back up and stuck them in the back of Twi’s journal. After doing so, I adjusted my saddlebags to fit perfectly on my back. I looked around the janitor’s closet for anything useful.

I didn’t really see very much, just a medical box near the door. I opened it and peered inside to find bandages, water, and a kind of drug labeled “Rainboom”. I thought I’d need these, so I took them all and stuffed them into my saddlebag, as I headed out the janitor’s closet.

To my surprise, there were no guards on the way to Gorman’s office. I threw open the door to his quarters and was hit by a wall of stench. I had no clue bodies smelled that putrid after only a few hours.

Telekinetically smothering my face with the collar of my vest, I was able to get over it step into the room.

The room was ransacked. The desk was thrown across the room and now blocked the doorway to his balcony. Neither the brains nor the body were cleaned up off the floor. Books had dived off shelves, the desk lamp was shattered, and the seat I had sat in during our ‘discussion’ was also tossed elsewhere. What happened here?

Because I was more exposed to the outside, I could hear gunshots and screaming from down below on the cobblestone street. What in Celestia’s mane was going on down there?!

Then I noticed a fairly small area rug that was balled up in the corner. I don’t remember a rug even being in the room. Then I saw where it came from.

Behind where Gorman’s desk used to be, in the floor, was a kind of door. It was rather small and difficult to get through, especially with my saddlebags. Gunshots outside were raging and bullets sputtered through the air here and there. It was apparent I was not going to use the ladder out there. So I decided the only thing I could do was take the door. Since the room was ransacked, maybe Red went through here.

It opened with an eerie creeeak emanating from its aged hinges. Descending was a slow, meticulous process. I could not fit in there as fast as I would have liked to. I constantly shifted myself to get my rifle and saddlebags in, as it did not accommodate such things. After lots of careful maneuvering, I managed to squeeze myself through without scraping my rifle or tearing my saddlebags.

It was very cold and dank down here. I was definitely not used to the cold, since I had lived in Industead all my life, where heat and pollution ruled the city where Gorman didn’t. I was glad I could walk through this passage freely, and every wall was cool to the hoof.

The walls were crudely carved out of stone, faint light from faraway torches in the passage created a gradient of light that crawled itself toward me on the walls of the passage. The darkness of the place spooked me a little, and I was glad to see torches. After a little precarious trotting through the dark corridor, I really began to wonder why it was here.

The passage widened up after a few minutes of my cautious walk, and more and more light was making its way through as I approached what I assumed was the opening.

Upon taking a turn, A wall of light revealed itself at the opening of the corridor. My pace became a little faster as I was eager to get out of this damnable escape tunnel, even though what was beyond it wasn’t much better.

The passage suddenly opened up into a small cave as the wall of light was converted into a view of the desert. The cave seemed to be home to a pony some time ago. I spotted some charred wood, a footlocker, and a completely destroyed cot. There was a can of spray-paint sitting on the cot and appeared to be used to spray a message on the wall: “Leave home, make home”.

The message confused me and the first half of it seemed directed at me somehow. The second part didn’t seem to make sense.

Next to it, the rising sun Red showed me had been spray-painted onto the cave wall with the same can of paint, but looked much newer. It also looked crisper and well done. Under the decal of the rising sun, a single capitalized word was painted as well: “CANON”.

It would make sense if Red came through here. It was the only possible escape, or so it looked like. The room was ransacked when I got there and already revealed the trap door, and he loved what the rising sun meant.

Red left in a hurry and without me, though. I know he wasn’t really able to wait, for I am sure he was out of time and needed to leave as quickly as possible. This seemed to apply for both of us. What does Canon mean, and why did he write it? Was it his only way of flagging me down that he had? I mean, he could’ve written “Red” next to it or something.

Then I remembered something. His monitors were on this old building with crude letters reading: "Canon". I wondered what was so important about this place.

I sat down on the dilapidated cot and looked at the grimy surroundings. I don’t think I've ever sat on something so filthy in my life. The cave had a thin layer of sand that thinned out more and more as it breached the cave from the outside. I opened the footlocker to see if I could find anything useful. I found a small, green gem, a red gem about the same size, an old pistol, and one round for the pistol.

I took all of it. I wonder if the gems can be used in my whatever-the-buck laser gun-thing. I sat down with the rifle and the gems, and I opened up the gem compartment. I took the current red gem out, and saw that it was rather warm to the touch. The gun must use this directly to power the gun, as well as serve as a source of ammunition.

The gem didn’t exactly appear used. However, it did look faded when compared to the two I had just obtained. I put in the older gem that was in there previously back into the gun, and decided to fire it off. I did this carefully, of course.

At the pull of the trigger, the gun gave off a brilliant red light and let out a scarlet beam that burned a small crater into the rock face, and pieces of rock expelled from it in all directions. This gun was dangerous.

I put the gun back into its strap on my Spitfire Vest. I realized the small worn pistol I received would be perfect for the holster on the vest. I went through the liberty of putting it there. The shotgun went into an easy-to-reach place in my saddlebag. I took out Gorman’s insanely outdated map to see where I should go next.

According to the passage I came out of, I was still sitting on the left side of the cave, on the destroyed cot. I looked out of the right side of the mouth of the cave, out into the desert. I could see the barbed-wired wooden fence of Industead from where I was in the cave, jutting into view from the right of the mouth of the cave. To the left of Industead was the Everfree Forest.

I looked at the map again. Assuming Dustead was now Industead, I was somewhere northwest of my old home. This would mean I am south of Ponyville, which is where I decided to go. I really needed to find out where this Canon was, and I figured that Ponyville would be the place to ask ponies.

I folded up the piece of paper and put it into my saddlebag, got up, and walked towards the entrance. At the cave’s exit, my hoof halted firm contact with the ground and sank into the plush, warm sand of what was now Equestria.

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 4

Out there, nopony lives long enough to tell the tales they went through. Same goes for your father... Your only place is Industead, Rain. Where you’re safe...”

My mother’s words echoed softly in my head.

I looked up at the sun, and sunk back, blinded for a few seconds. There was no smog, no nitrogen oxides, no ozone, and no pollutants in the air...

The air was intoxicatingly pure compared to the concentrated solution of waste I had been breathing for years. I choked on the newfound air quality for some time, but my lungs quickly adjusted, as did my eyes.

My head spun. There were no fences, no restrictions, no guards, no factories, no gates, no smog... I could continue forever. But my head focused on one very grim negative that was coming out of all of this.

No family.

I had no clue where my family was, what they were doing, and how they were dealing with the chaos that reigned outside their front doorstep. I’m sure my mother, Crystal, had been worried sick about me. Flake could care less, I thought. But my mother genuinely cared even though she always had a sad or disappointed look when she glanced at me. I couldn’t tell whether it was due to who I was, how much I was able to make for the family, or that we were not quite making end’s meet. But I did know one thing, and it was that she cared about me.

Sure, technically she had to watch over me. But it was still nice to know somepony did care.

I didn’t quite know Red yet. We talked for a little less than a week, and he did patch my leg up to a point in which I could walk on and use it. He was a kind of suave talker, and probably got his way with a lot of things. The problem is, though, that we got split up. The other problem is that he was the only sniper on the rooftop as far as I knew. It couldn’t have been him that shot at me, could it?

I pushed the thought of betrayal out of my head. I wasn’t going to have my only potential friend stigmatized for something somepony else could have done.

I gazed upon the open desert, my eyes combing the tan ground for anything of interest. There were a hoof-full of shriveled-up shrubs located here and there, randomly placed over the knolls and dunes that made up the terrain. Out in the distance, I could see Industead and I could hear the alarms going off.

I turned my attention back towards the north, not wanting to think about industead. I knew I would return, bring home my dad, and try to afford a bigger house and healthier food with all the money he could have made. But that would come later, though. I needed to track down Red so we can get this mess cleared up. I wanted to know what exactly happened back there.

Not too far from where I stood, I spotted a rugged trail stretching out into the north. This must lead to Ponyville.

I looked towards the sky. This time, Celestia’s glorious heavens were being painted all shades of magenta, cyan, and orange. The sun was setting, and it would soon be night.

I took a few steps back into the cave. It would be best to stop and spend the night here; the desert was probably a terrifying place at night.

I rested my saddlebags as well as my vest against the rusted leg of the cot. I attempted to get comfortable as I curled up in different positions.

The cot was truly a horror. It was stiff, uncomfortable, and whole parts of it were ripped up, and even some claws looked like they sunk in a few times. Spots of it were infused with blood. The cot itself was putrid, and smelled like all the pollutants and horse manure in Industead created this stench.

I looked towards the roof of the cave and thought about Industead. The distance between me and the only place I could really call home was going to increase, and I could picture it disappearing into the horizon as I glanced over my shoulder in my imagination. I thought about Ponyville and what they had to bring. Maybe a new home, maybe a nice bed, food...

I contemplated all the things in Industead I was forfeiting. My family, my house, my nice (somewhat) bed, the job...

I thought again about my family and what they must be going through. Then more negative thoughts rolled in: one less mouth to feed, I thought. They’re better off without me. Nopony needs a sexually confused mare living with them. Nopony wants a pony who can’t even defend herself in a fight. And surely, nopony wants a pony who just mopes around all day. Even my comrade just left me.

I could only think of the burdens I caused for what was left of my family, or anypony else for that matter. I curled myself up in a small, pathetic heap on the abused cot and cried myself to sleep, quietly.

My eyes finally uncovered themselves after the long night, and the smell of the absolutely disgusting cot flooded my nostrils once again when I awoke. I noticed the cot received my tears to complement the dried blood.

I winced a little bit and smacked my lips, futilely attempted to get rid of the lingering taste of morning breath. Spitting a few times onto the cave floor, I got out of the cot and telekinetically put my saddlebags on and fastened my Spitfire Vest.

Ensuring I had everything and that everything was adjusted properly, I took one final look around the cave, and frowned at the fact that this once served as somepony’s lowly home. I looked out of the cave, which conveniently opened up its gaping mouth to the east, out into the rising sun of dawn.

I stepped out onto the same soft sand, and noticed it was much cooler in the morning. I never really took the time to how beautiful the it was this time of day. It was the same twilight colors that blanketed the sky in the evening... however, the sun rose directly in front of me, illuminating my face as well as the majority of the cave behind me. The rising sun’s rays elongated across the dunes of the dirt and sand, and clawed their way toward my hooves. There was nothing to prevent the sun’s rays from bathing me and my surroundings this time, as I was no longer in Industead.

I may have felt free, but at the same time I really didn’t. I was confined to a box, trapped and drowning in my fears, unsure of what to do with them. First of all, the world around me reached out in all directions for what seemed like eternity. Secondly, all the terrible tales of the outside flowed out of my thoughts all at once. I had been told of rapists, drug addicts, bandits, looters, fierce mutated monsters... anything one could imagine. I was even told of dragons that swept down and set whole towns ablaze. That was utterly ridiculous, an old pony’s tale, I thought.

The world wasn’t yet ablaze, per se, but the sun incessantly beat down on me as the day progressed. There was no smog to block out some of the sun, so I wasn’t quite used to this kind of heat daily.

Even though I was completely alone on this dusty road that represented what was left of Equestria, many things followed around me that day. My griefs, my sorrows, doubts, fears, my longing for my family, my lingering thirst under the hot sun, and it felt like Death himself was following me around, ready to catch me should I fall, and bring me down before I would be able to get back up.

Ponyville. Or what was left of it, anyways.

I trudged up toward the rows of battered and damaged buildings in awe and disbelief. Hundreds of ponies had to have lived here, including the legendary Mane Six. Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle... They all lived here. What happened? I know Canterlot was consumed by an ice of unknown origin, but I don’t think that Ponyville was. Or, at least, I never knew it was.

I took what I assumed to be my first steps into Ponyville. Buildings were worn and torn apart, shops were plundered, and houses were ransacked. I knew Equestria was pretty much a desert, what I didn’t know was the large lack of civilization in it.

What remained of Ponyville was organized similarly to the town I saw in the surveillance cameras that Red was monitoring on his computer. Noting this, I didn’t walk directly in the middle of these two rows of buildings for the fear of bandits, but went off to one side and gazed at the abandoned buildings with a reluctance to enter.

As the sun began to set, I started for the nearest building, which I presumed to be a store of some sort. As I opened the door, I caught a figure standing near a bridge out of the corner of my eyes wearing a type of trench coat, which flapped in a wind that I could not detect. I turned to focus my gaze on the mysterious figure, but when I did so, the figure was gone.

Great. I’m thirsty, sweaty, rather hungry, and to top it off, I am seeing things.

I opened the door to the Ponyville Express, whatever that was. Upon going inside it, I noticed it appeared a lot nicer than how it did on the outside. Sure, some of the furniture was pretty torn up, but at least it wasn’t stained with blood. Taking a brief look around the surprisingly spacious room, I could tell it was the local post office. On the wall to my left, a poster read: “Don’t discriminate, vote Ditzy for Employee of the Month!” She must’ve been a mailmare. She was a pegasus pony and was colored a pale grey. Her mane was a shade of light, pastel yellow, and her eyes were a beautiful gold color. I wasn’t sure if this was an insult towards her, mistake when making the poster, or if this was actually how her eye was oriented, but one of her golden-yellow eyes seemed to drift off into space, out of focus.

I smiled a little at this, I looked around the room some more. There was a small service counter immediately in front of the front door of the post office, and behind it were rows of letterboxes, accompanied by a door that led to what seemed to be a room for packages or other storage. To my right, I could see couches, benches, and a few armchairs. I assumed this was a sort of waiting room.

On the wall behind me, opposite of the service counter, was an absurd “statement” that molested my eyeballs with profanity. The words “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE” were crudely and hurriedly spray-painted.

I rolled my eyes in disgust and went behind the service counter. On shelves implemented in the counter that seemed hidden from customers, I could see a few things. First, were some stacks of paper and clipboard, complemented by a kind of old-style typewriter and a pencil. Above that shelf, I made out a damaged type of pistol that took a clip in the handle. Two of the appropriate clips were found next to the gun itself, totaling fourteen rounds in all. I took the gun and the ammunition.

I took the small pistol in case I needed it. My eyes then turned to the stack of papers, as well as the letters behind me, sitting in the letterboxes. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to look through the papers. It’s not like anyone’s using them, anyways.

The papers turned out to be postal records of packages and letters, who was mailing them, and who would be the recipient. The latest document seemed to already be attached to the clipboard. I put two and two and two together and realized everything was in chronological order.

I took a look at the latest page. Everything was organized into columns, which were filled with numbers, names, and other information. None of it really made sense to me, except for the addresses and the dates, all of which were in the year L.C. 1176.

That was only two years ago.

If this was a ghost town, then why was there an organized and civilized postal service so recently? Just two years ago, ponies were sending out letters and packages, and receiving them as well. That means that there were ponies trying to get along with each other just two years ago. This leads me to ask the same question I have been all day—what happened?

I turned to the letterboxes. There were a few packages torn open on the counter next to them, which I had assumed were looted by bandits and/or survivors. However, I spotted some untouched packages stacks on the floor behind the service counter. I thought about opening them, but a better idea arose in my mind.

These packages must’ve never been delivered, and probably never will. Opening them would be like destroying a time capsule that was preserved for somepony else. These packages are rightfully theirs. Most likely, the intended recipients weren’t living here anymore, but what if they were?

I decided I was going to take these packages and a few of these letters to their rightful owners. Or where they lived, anyways. Even if they weren’t there, it would still be the right thing to do.

I picked up and examined the packages. They were in substantial condition, so their contents couldn’t be too damaged. Hanging on the wall was a brown messenger bag, fit for... a messenger. Slinging that around my shoulder, I put some of the letters and packages in there, and put what was left in another saddlebag.

I decided to explore the remainder of the postal office. The door leading to the room behind the counter that I had mentioned earlier had been locked, much to my dismay. I was curious and wanted to find out what was behind that door. If it was locked, that would mean that what was inside had to have been well-preserved. It compensated for the fact that it would be difficult getting in. The door didn’t look all the strong, even though this office was running recently. I decided to try to ram the door down.

I took a few trots back away from the door, and readied myself for a lunge at the door. Raising my flank in the air like a pouncing feline, I used every bit of my strength to throw myself at the door.

SLAM!

I staggered back, wincing in pain. My shoulder was throbbing from being thrown into a door, and I immediately regretted putting it through something like that. And that’s when I had an epiphany. I suddenly realized what I was meant to do, who I really was. I blanked out for moments at a time, contemplating the matter.

I was a pony. Not a cat.

I got up, shaking my head vigorously to snap out of my idiotic trance. I turned to my hind legs, and rolled my eyes as I turned around to give the door a good bucking.

I soon discovered that I wasn’t very good at bucking. The door rattled, but hardly budged after my pathetic bludgeon.

I turned to face the door, and back at my hind legs with an angry, disappointed smirk. I decided to give it another go, but as soon as I lifted my legs, I could hear a cold, shrill, screaming voice of a male ring through the door:

“NOOO! Stay out! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!”

I crumpled to the floor in shock upon hearing this stallion’s voice. What the hell?

I backed away from the door slowly, with my eyes locked on the door as I wondered what the stallion was so scared of. After a few filly steps backwards, I backed into something strange that wasn’t there before. Turning around, I saw a unicorn, wearing a large, brown cowboy hat as well as a duster, levitating a golden pistol similar to the one in Gorman’s office. I hadn’t much of a description, as the next few moments happened all too quickly.

He rotated the gun to point it at me.

I didn’t know who this stallion was, what he was doing here, or what was even going on, but I levitated my aluminum bat out of its strap to give the mysterious stallion a battering he’d never forget.

My attack failed, and he immediately countered it by bobbing under the arc of my swing and ducking behind me. I anticipated a bullet to the head directly afterwards, but instead I was telekinetically whipped in the back of my head by the handle of his golden pistol.

My knees gave out and I fell against the wall, headfirst.

I could see a small trail of blood following my head as it slid against the wall. The room was spinning and shifting into and out of focus, and I felt like I could hardly stay conscious.

A gunshot rang my ears and definitely jolted me enough to stay awake. I attempted to look around, but everything was a blurred mess. I did know that I was behind the counter, leaning against the wall, unarmed. I couldn’t use my levitation to pick anything up or defend myself. The stallion could have put a bullet in my brain if he wanted to. I just watched as the blurred mess attempt to buck open the door, when I heard a gunshot coming from the door.

The stallion stopped bucking, turned around, and looked at the door. He gave a sigh, and levitated its pistol into its holster. He took one last look at me, shook his head, and proceeded out the front door of the post office.

The pony behind the door had committed suicide.

I awoke with a pounding headache. It felt as if a small pony were trapped inside my cranium, using a sledgehammer to try and escape.

I picked myself up off the floor and hobbled over to the door with a sad expression on my face. My memory was coming back to me, including the fact that the surviving pony in that mailroom committed suicide to avoid what I had decided were bandits. What I am confused about, though, is why only one bandit pony came in and left. He didn’t actually kill me, and as far as I know, he didn’t kill anypony. He also didn’t loot anything of mine. What he wanted with that other pony in the mailroom, I do not know. I had a plethora of questions, and no answers.

None of that changed the fact that I still wanted to see what was in that room. I sure didn’t have the strength to attempt bucking down the door, so that was out of the question. I thought about using the laser cannon to destroy the door handle, but I didn’t want to waste precious ammunition. Instead, I had a better idea, even though I couldn’t think very well at all.

I levitated out my combat knife, and shoved it where the door meets the handle itself, using all of my might to try and break the lock internally. Not to my surprise, I could hear a loud, metallic snap that sounded like a detachment. I then shoved the knife in between the door and the doorframe, and I was happy to see that it slid right through. I pushed the door open, to see what was inside.

It was a storage room, used for all sorts of things. There were rows of filing cabinets, lockers, and what appeared to be a workbench. However, it was easy to see that half the room was devoted to storing packages and letters. But there was only one thing that surprised me about the room.

Where was that pony’s body? The gunshot went off, unless the pony faked the suicide. Even if he did, he would still be here. There weren’t any windows. Unless he walked out of the door of the office while I was unconscious. Well, whatever it was, he wasn’t here anymore. I decided to scope out the room before heading out.

I decided to be nosy and look in the letters. Most of them were to their special someponies while others were simple friendly letters that didn’t seem to catch my attention. I was kind of hoping for a letter to Princess Celestia. Then I facehoofed when I remembered that Twilight mentioned her letters were sent directly to the Princess through Spike.

I couldn’t carry all of the packages, of course, so I decided to go through them before somepony else did. In one, I found a few boxes of cake mix, which didn’t appeal to me at all. One box contained an iron box, which I found to be ironic in multiple ways.

Then I checked the date. A couple of the ones I opened were marked L.C. 1003.

Oh. That would make sense as to why nothing in here was useful. Ponies were too soft back then. However, I did find one package that looked somewhat promising. It came with a letter dated L.C. 1009, so I read that first.

"To my dearest Fluttershy,

I took note of when you told me you were simply DYING of thirst on our last hiking trip. So, I decided to whip up something for my dear old friend.

This for the Fluttershy?

You know I absolutely hate canteens, because they don’t tend to match with anything. But I made one that would be absolutely perfect for you! Oh, and the shape is to DIE for when considering choosing an outfit to go hiking on! It’s a little heavy with all the jewels I have embedded, but the material I used on it compensates for the jewels’ weight.

Hold on a minute. She embedded Jewels into a canteen?!

"I thought it would complement your mane and go with any outfit you wear! It is the PERFECT thing to take with you anytime you go out—"

At this point, I was really tired of reading about how a canteen would be perfect with any outfit, and I could only assume it was from Fluttershy’s friend, Rarity. She was really into that kind of stuff, from what I know from Twilight’s journal. I skipped until the end of the letter.

"Sincerely, your friend Rarity.”

“P.S. I think that it would also go great with the dress I made for you to wear to the Gala—"

That’s it, I was done. I threw the letter on the floor and tore open the box like a filly opens a present on her birthday.

The canteen was an eyesore. Worth a fortune, but an eyesore. Thank Celestia that Rarity didn’t change the shape too much, as it was still semicircular. However, the canteen itself was a bright, pastel pink.

Pink. I was not going to be seen with this thing.

I stuffed it into my saddlebags mainly for its value. I had no other reason to keep it other than to hold water, even though it really didn’t hold all too much, because Rarity shrank the size for “fashion reasons”.

Waking up seemed like a chore. I slept on some boxes filled with letters in the mailroom, and had somewhat of a sore back from waking up on such makeshift bedding. It wasn’t too bad, though; I’m very used to it due to my time living back home.

But that’s not necessarily what made getting up difficult. Thinking about home was hard. Not necessarily that I wanted to return, but the fact that I would probably never see the remainder of my family again. Another unsettling thought was that I didn’t know where I was going to be leading my inexperienced self out in the unruly desert. I felt like I was split into different parts and each piece wanted to chase different shadows. One part of me wanted to accept that my dad was dead and that finding him would be futile, while the other part thought differently and longed to see him. Red was my main priority though, because he was really the one to save my life, no matter how he did it. He was my guidance in the world, his ideas are similar to mine and we just seem to “click”. Finding him meant life.

I had a thought to go after my attacker from yesterday, but I pushed that aside and was just glad to be alive. My plan was to go and deliver these packages to where they had originally belonged, before the post office was raided, find some things about what Canon is, and maybe find some food.

I trotted back out to the storefront of the post office. I was weary of attackers and made note to stick to the row of buildings. I am also happy to note that the stack of papers came with a rather recent map of Ponyville, which of which was made only four years ago. Using the map, I located the first place I needed to go.

Twilight’s library. Oh, am I excited!

It was Twilight Sparkle’s legendary study and sanctuary. The place where she did all of her research and study during her stay in Ponyville. It contains—or probably used to contain—shelves of books stuffed with all sorts of information on a wide variety of topics. It was enough books for even Twilight Sparkle.

I could see the top of the tree where the library was coming into view. The tree was enormous and immediately caught my attention. I knew Town Hall was the center of Ponyville based on what Dad told me, but her library seemed a more fitting centerpiece. I approached the library slowly, carrying the unopened package I intended to deliver. I was not sure what Twilight was receiving, but that was her business even if she was dead.

As I drew nearer, I could see parts of the exterior of the tree that were defiled with spray paint similar to that used in the cave and the post office. I noticed that the spray-painted words were both profanity as well as cries for help, and were in different colors too. It really ticked me off, but I other things to do. The tree itself had a very large, round shape. I could see windows and a balcony on different sides of the tree, and it was easy to see that the tree was more than enough to accommodate a pony and her little dragon companion, whom I knew as Spike.

The door was also abused pretty badly, but in better condition than I am used to. It featured a nice, gold-colored type of doorknob and the door was split into two levels; one door opened on top and another opened on bottom. I thought about just walking into the library, but that wouldn’t be right of a mailmare. Instead, I thought it would be best to knock although I wasn’t expecting a response. I lifted my hoof up, and knocked on the door twice.

I waited a little bit and reached for the door handle, when unexpectedly the topmost door swung open, to reveal a husky stallion with a dirty, grey mane and a dark green coat. I could hear forks and knives clanging behind him and I was under the assumption that a group of ponies were eating and chatting. The stallion at the door looked at me from head to hoof and spoke.

“Oh, yer a hot one.” His look changed from admiring to somewhat angry. “What’s yer business here?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored his initial remark. “Just here to drop off a package, where it belongs,” I stated, cockily. “What’s your business in Twilight’s Library?”

“The who-what now?” His southern accent was starting to show much more. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know...” I just decided against trying to explain it to him. It’s been over a hundred years since Twilight Sparkle lived here. Ponies seemed to forget the real heroes from back then, their minds are now on trying to stay alive and feed themselves. “Eh, never mind.”

The stallion turned around to face what seemed to be his crew and shouted: “Hey boys, we’ve got us a mail-pony at the door here to see us!” I don’t know why, but the stallions laughed and howled in the background. “Hey, don’t look so down, why don’t ya come on in for something to eat?”

I was surprised. Why he was inviting me in to eat, I don’t know. But I accepted.

The inside of the library seemed even larger on the inside than it did the outside. The stallion led me into the large main room, which was lit up by windows and an array of candles and lanterns. In the center of the room was a round table, where I could see eight dirty, grimy stallions gathered around it, eating breakfast. Lining the walls were shelves built into the wall, where I assumed the books should’ve been. They were replaced with weapons and various knick-knacks I could not make out. To the very right of the door was a staircase, which rose up and lined the wall to the next floor. I didn’t really feel good about this, but I didn’t want to be rude.

“Come on in, and take a load off.” The stallion said. He led me to the table where the stallion ponies were eating their grub. It looked like they were eating some sort of meat, which I had never eaten before. He sat me down with the stallions to eat in the dim light, and I immediately felt awkward and misplaced.

“Heh heh,” One of the many male ponies at the table chuckled, “Try some of this, buttercup.” He sat directly across from me where I sat at the round table, and passed a crude plate of the same type of meat that they ate counterclockwise around among the ponies. The plate eventually slid in front of me.

The green stallion who ‘greeted’ me at the doorway was now sitting to my left.

“Go on, try it. We eat this stuff all the time.” Everypony at the table was watching me, and I had never felt so much attention—whether it be good or bad—in my whole entire life. Everypony stared at me until I took the first chomp.

I didn’t really understand the nature of the meat. I didn’t know where it came from or what it was the meat of. It seemed pretty cooked, but I couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure. But once again, I didn’t want to be rude when these ponies were being friendly towards me. Instead of using the only magic I know to lift the meat up to my face to eat it, I held it down with my hoof and leaned in to take a bite. After all, I didn't want to offend any earth ponies. I had to pull to tear the meat, when I found out the meat was attached to a bone. I must have been eating ribs, perhaps those of a hog.

“Good, eh?” The stallion across from me asked, with his mouth full of food.

The meat was actually delicious. Apples had grown monotonous, especially after being tainted by Industeadian air. Occasionally I would have an orange or something for my birthday, but that was about it. This meat, however, tasted like something totally different. It was cooked pretty well, and went down smooth. “Yeah, I like it.” I said somewhat shyly.

My taste buds and throat enjoyed it, but my stomach didn't agree.

Everypony continued their conversations. The stallion who passed me the food seemed to be telling a story, so I listened in. “So, as I was sayin’, it was just a few of us headin’ through Froggy Bottom Bog, and the waters were stirrin’. We weren’t scared at all when this huuuuge dragon-snake thing came up out of the swamp! It had like, seven heads with thousands of razor-sharp teeth and it tried to kill us! But luckily we were smarter than it and we outsmarted it and put a bullet in its many brains...”

This guy was a piece of work. Not only was he terrible at telling stories, but it probably wasn’t even true, considering he wasn't with anypony at the table in his story. It also couldn’t have even happened, because of two things. First off, ponykind is uncertain whether or not hydras—which were absurdly large multi-headed monsters—even exist. Secondly, their skulls are supposed to be much thicker than most any firearm is meant to penetrate.

But I really didn’t care. I was glad to have company and eat, so that’s what I did. The story was even slightly entertaining. When the story ended, I remembered why I was here and what my goal was, and now was the prime time to try to accomplish that goal.

“Does anypony know anything about Canon?” I couldn’t help but to ask. There were lots of ponies here, I figured that one of them had to have known.

Everypony stopped eating to look directly at me with a bit of an angry smirk. One of the huskier stallions asked grimly, “Whatcha wanna go there for?”

I didn’t really expect that question, but I answered vaguely to try and avoid it. “Business.”

They don’t need to know my business.

“Oh, really? You sellin’ stuff to those Red freaks? I don’t like those types...”

I immediately figured that it had to have been a Red Remnant outpost, and that these guys must have had some bad experiences with them. I had to change my strategy a little. “Oh no, I’m just meeting up with somepony in some time away from Canon. I was selling a few supplies to a local tribe in need.”

“Aww, you mean that old canned food factory the Reds settled in southwest? They ain’t nothin’ but a bunch o’ pansies!” One of the ponies retorted.

“Quiet, Crocodile,” a stallion in a vest sitting at the table said. “You know I have some bad blood with the RR, right? They’re pretty skilled, even if I don’t like them.” He lifted up his vest to show a series of stitches across a large gash on his chest.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself shot, Flynn!” The stallion who I now know as Crocodile retorted.

Flynn stood up and threw a hoof on the table, causing all the worn dishes and crude silverware to clang about in their places. “Are you suggesting I am incompetent?” Flynn seemed to be the only intelligent one in the group.

“Imcompe-wha? Naw, I’m just suggestin’ you’re bad at fightin’” Crocodile was outright insulting, and a brawl was about to ensue right there at the breakfast table.

“Woah, woah, ladies, ladies, calm down!” The green pony got up and mediated the conflict by keeping them apart with his hooves. “Not in front of our... guest here.” He turned to me and gave me a sort of grin.

Well if a fight was about to break out, I should leave. Besides, I need to get to Canon as soon as possible. “I think I’m going to go anyways, my customers don’t tend to enjoy waiting...”

“Oh, come on, stay a little longer...” The green stallion insisted.

“No, I can’t, I’ve already lost too much ground. I need to get going.”

“Well if you really have to...” The green stallion said. “I won’t stop you. But I do have something I want to give you before you go, it’ll help you on your journey.”

He led me to a door just a couple meters away from the door I came in at. He opened it and was a gentlecolt at doing so, as he stepped to the side, saying: “After you.”

“Err, thanks.” I proceeded into the room. It seemed to be the barracks of the gang. Cots lined the room, and lockers and desks could be found in different places around the room. There was one window, allowing light to pass through it and show me just how dusty the room was. He walked in, closing the door behind him.

“It’s just around the corner, it’s a pretty nice rifle I don’t use anymore...” I turned the corner to my right, where all I could see were lockers and cabinets of different types. There was really not much to the room. The walls were unpainted (but thrilled to know they weren’t spray-painted) and the room was a little bland.

I stepped to the side to allow the stallion to pass in front of me and I took a look around the room. I assumed that the weapon was in one of the lockers, and waited for him to pass in front of me to go open one. However, it took me a couple seconds to realize that he didn’t make it past me.

Which means that he lingered behind me for an uncomfortable few seconds.

I tried to turn around to see where he was, when I felt a foreleg wrap around me and I was thrust onto one of the nearby cots, sending my saddlebags and weapons sliding across the floor of the tree. He soon followed suit, leaping on top of me.

He did...unspeakable things after that. I won’t go into describing them, but it was horrible. He didn’t bother gagging me with anything, as screaming wouldn’t matter (which I did anyways, screaming like a filly until it prove futile). As this was happening, I couldn’t think straight but I quickly figured these ponies were bandits and I had fallen into their trap. They were in on it, too. And I just ate their food. I walked into their barracks. And now I’m getting destroyed. I wasn’t even straight, which made things twice as worse. How stupid could I be?

While I suffered this great, uh... pain, I had to formulate a plan before he tore up my insides. He seemed to forget that I was a unicorn and could cast magic, but all I knew how to do was levitate objects.

But that was perfect.

I stopped screaming and decided to take the pain for a little bit to try to focus. I looked at my saddlebags and tried to remember where everything was placed. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to focus my telekinesis, because of, err, what was going on. I wasn’t even sure I could cast magic at all.

And unfortunately, that was the case. Too much was going on inside my head, and... Well even more was going on above and behind me.

I made a valiant attempt to shove him off me. To my surprise, it worked. It shouldn't have, but it did. He fell to the floor and he was finally off of me. I wriggled my way under the cot and kicked it up, forming a barricade before he could get up. I telekinetically picked up the pistol from the post office out of my bag and pointed it towards him, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet sailed right through the green rapist’s brain. I suppose he wasn’t used to handling tomcolts.

I also suppose I was a sociopath at this point. It was the first pony I for-sure killed, and I was already having no regrets. Then again, I had to account for the things he did to me. My question was though, why aren’t the ponies in the dining room freaking out about the gunshot? Maybe all these stallions... kill their victims?

I think they think I’m dead, and that the green stallion is still alive, done with his business. I decided to take advantage of this time by looting the room. The stallion himself was definitely dead, as he suffered a bullet through the head. It was a disgusting sight, but he deserved much worse than a quick, painful death. His saddlebag didn’t contain very much, just a few bits, a pistol very similar to mine, and some naughty pictures. What a pervert. I took it all.

Don’t judge me.

The lockers didn’t contain very much. I did find it odd, though, that all but one of the lockers were unlocked. I found a few bits, some more pistol rounds, a grenade, a switchblade, some bandages, some miscellaneous medical supplies, and some more inappropriate profanity.

I took it all.

The locked locker was unsettling. I didn’t know what was in it, and I really wanted to find out. Breaking the lock would make too much noise and risked mangling it. So I decided to leave it for now.

Escaping this place was much more important. A burning rage and hatred for these ponies was building up inside of me, and I needed to direct that hatred to something... productive.

I found out that the window wouldn’t actually open, and I didn’t want to dive through it and risk getting myself all cut up. I also didn’t have anything to break it with other than my hoof. So, the best way, I think, is to kill them all and go out the front door.

Yeah.

I kind of wish I had some shades to put on so I could escape the building looking cool, but I needed to focus. I strapped the shotgun into the Spitfire Strap, and levitated the Laser Cannon—or whatever its name was—as well as the grenade.

I had never thrown a grenade before, but I knew what one was. All you do is pull the pin and throw. I thought about saving the grenade for later, but now was the perfect time. Plus, I wanted to retaliate on this group of rapists.

I kicked open the door with a hind leg, and telekinetically tossed a live grenade straight at the table. Shortly after closing the door, I heard a clank and an explosion half a second later, followed by a series of masculine shouts. I opened the door again to see the carnage left by the explosive.

I only saw three get up, the other four lay on the ground, lifeless, burned, and riddled with shrapnel. Charred remains of the plates, food, and table were scattered around the room.

The three that got up were as hostile as sharks that sensed blood. “What in Celestia’s fucking mane?! Kill her! She must’ve shot Pastures” I could hear among the crowd. “Imma show her a thing or two about comin’ in here and blowin’ the shithole to smithereens!“ I could hear once again, which sounded like Crocodile’s voice.

I popped my head and laser cannon out of the opening of the door and sent a beam of red light straight through a bandit's chest, and he fumbled to the floor. One of the others carrying a smaller type of gun in his mouth sent a quick rat-tat-tat of bullets into the door I hid behind, less than a foot away from my face. It was clear that he would perforate me if I intersected his line-of-sight.

I peered through the opening in the door yet again to find my next target. To my surprise, I couldn’t. Both of the remaining bandits were out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. I waited a minute to see if they would pop out, and I got down real low, while keeping an eye on the crack through the doorway. I saw the hoof of Crocodile shoot out from behind the corner, and a live grenade tumbled into the doorway, stopping at my hoof.

Fuck!

Panicked, I kicked the grenade with my foreleg back towards the opening of the door and jumped over my pre-made mattress barricade from before. Just in time, too. The explosion resonated through the whole tree, and shrapnel soared over the mattress. I’m lucky that none of it impaled the cot.

I slowly crept out from behind the makeshift barricade and swiftly hugged the wall adjacent to the door. Using my telekinesis to levitate my shotgun and my blood-stained bat out, I shimmied towards the corner of the doorway (or what was left of it, anyways). I stayed out of sight and waited for them to come in, looking for my body. That grenade really should have killed me.

I waited in awkward silence, trying to listen in on their whispers. They were communicating with each other, which I didn’t really like if I couldn’t hear it. They were on the opposite corner of the doorway, probably planning an attack. I didn’t really know what to think of it, and I really hope they didn’t have another grenade.

The whispering stopped, and I could hear muted hoofsteps coming towards the door. I thought about popping out and giving them two shotgun rounds, but I didn’t know what they were planning.

To my surprise, both bandits lunged out of the doorway into sight at the same time. Crocodile was to the other bandit’s right side, and was holding a combat knife in his teeth. The other bandit, however, was holding the submachine gun.

Both parties—the bandits and I—were startled by each others’ sudden presence. I telekinetically swatted at the other bandit’s face using the bat, and I managed to disarm him of his weapon, which scuttled across the floor to an empty bookcase. Due to a mixture of surprise and anger, as well as how tense the whole situation was, I let out two shotgun shells into the bandit instead of one. This meant that I didn’t have the second shotgun shell to use on Crocodile.

And he was coming at me with full force.

Before I could completely realize that the only weapon I had available was the bat, I felt a sharp, excruciating pain in my left flank. I collapsed to the ground while attempting to keep myself up, and I could see Crocodile leaning over me.

I tried to pick myself off the floor, but I couldn’t handle the pain and I was losing consciousness. It took me a second to realize that Crocodile left the knife inside of my flank. I had the idea of pulling it out telekinetically and stabbing him with it, but my magic was weak and even moving the blade caused great pain. Before I passed out, I heard a radio turn on and Crocodile say something into it.

“Ah have a potential slave t’ transport, boss. Lemme know what she’s worth when ya get here... I have somethin’ else t’ tell ya. Well, more like show ya.”

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 5

I awoke to the sound of wheels moving on railroad tracks.

I shot up in panic and fear and tried to look around, but the sudden movement was too much for my left side to handle. It felt as if somepony suddenly rammed something into my flank. Oh, wait, that actually happened. Twice.

“Agh!” I couldn’t help but shriek. I suddenly jerked my head to one side to look at my flank, but that was also too much for my weakened body to handle. I suffered another spear of pain as a consequence of moving too quickly.

“Erggh!”

“Hey! Quiet in there, dammit!” Said a pony that sounded as if he were a few meters away. A sharp stick of some sort prodded my side. “You don’t want the other side of your ass skewered, do you?

I gently lay down on the hay I found myself in. As I regained consciousness, I was actually able to tell what was going on. I was now enslaved, in a metal cage on train car. Crocodile must have contacted someone and sold me to some slave-drivers, if I remember correctly. I wasn’t sure where I was, where my stuff was, or where this train was headed.

The train car was rather dark and didn’t allow much light in. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I wasn’t the only one in the train car. I witnessed many malnourished, filthy, and some wounded ponies sleeping, and another on the other side of the car losing her apples, looking around as if she was surrounded by ghosts on all sides.

I relaxed back in the cage to get a hold of the situation and study the car. The cage itself was pretty old and a little rusty, as with the lock. I didn’t have anything with me to break the lock, so escaping would prove rather difficult. The stallion with the stick, who I have assumed to be a guard, was walking up and down the aisles of cages, looking for somepony to criticize. The car occasionally jerked on the tracks, jolting me upwards, and caused me slight pain.

“Whatcha doin’?”

A voice in the cage next to me caught me off-guard. She was a small, pale green mare with a messy forest green mane and tail. Her mane went past her eyes a little. Her voice was astonishingly upbeat, considering both of us were in slave cages. She was also the only pony that remained calm, and for that matter, optimistic. Even the sleeping ponies looked panicked, tossing and turning as if in the midst of a horrible dream.

“Where did you—“ I started. But I interjected myself to answer sarcastically instead. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Well, no need to be rude.” Her upbeat tone stayed in her voice, but her curious smile turned into a bit of a frown.

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” I hesitated for a moment and then continued. “I’ve been through so much today.”

“Oh I know whatcha mean!” She smiled with glee once again, tapping her chin. “This one time, I put myself in a cave waiting for somepony for foreeeeeeveeeeer.”

“Wait, what? Who were you waiting for?” She was in a cave, waiting for somepony?

“I survived off of candy and meat and candy... I survived off of food, some other kind of foooood....” As she was reminiscing about her “bad time” the train car jerked and derailed both of our trains of thought (as if the green mare even had one).

“Wait, hold on, waiting for who?” I asked again.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” She said when she snapped out of it. “Hey, do you want to get out of here? Or do you want to stay? It’s your choice, I mean the hay is pretty comfortable.”

This mare has completely lost it. She’s jumping from one extreme to the other far too quickly. How the hell does she plan on getting us out?

“What? How the hell do you plan on getting us out?” I questioned, reflecting my thoughts while I looked at the lock on the cage. When I looked back at the mare, she was examining boots that were fitted on her foreleg.

“Oh, you want to get out? If you say so...” She lifted her boots high into the air. “Anyways, I’ve got these.”

“Um. Those are boots.”

“Not just any boots, these are special boots.” She was shoving them through the cage bars to show me, a little too close to my face. I gently pushed them out of the little personal space I had.

“How are they special?” I asked, rolling my eyes at the eccentric mare.

“You really need to have an open mind.” She said, waving one foreleg boot in the air. She watched the guard intently, and waited until he turned around. Suddenly, she stomped one hoof on the floor of the cage. Three claws shot out of the boot, transforming the boot into a deadly gauntlet. I watched as she shoved the gauntlet through the padlock on the cage, severing it perfectly from its place.

She threw open the cage door and darted out at unsurpassable speed down the aisle of cages towards the unsuspecting guard. He heard this ruckus, but it didn’t matter when the green mare jumped on his back and sunk her claws into his neck. He died a quick, silent death as the green earth pony helped him quietly to the floor. She picked something up off of him with her teeth, and it looked to be a gun. She trotted over to me with an unnatural pep in her step.

“Now let’s get you out of here, and let’s take this train.” Her claws went right through the lock on my cage this time, splitting it in two, and then falling to the floor. She opened the cage door and motioned for me to exit. “C’mon, ya pessimist, let’s get a move on!”

“Thanks, sorry I doubted—“ I tried to say as I climbed out.

“Oh now you’re nice!” She said, this time she rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, slowpoke!” She gave me the gun she picked up off the guard, which happened to be a pistol with a black tube thing on the end of it.

“Thanks.” I said, somewhat sheepishly. “Let’s go then!”

“Wait, what’s the rush?” The little green mare questioned.

“Well, you said that we should go as soon as possible, and you seemed rushed—“

“Oh no, I’m sure we have a minute.” The mare now seemed to have alternating personalities. One minute she’s goofy and upbeat, the next she’s stabbing somepony in the throat without breaking a sweat. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves?”

I facehoofed.

“My name’s Pounce Scratch.” She said, while she made the motion of moving her hidden gauntlet in a clawing motion. “But you can call me Pounce. Or Miss P. O. M. Y. Master... or Galactic Cupcake... Or Super Subatomic Panwaffle—”

“Pounce!” I said, snapping her out of it.

“Oh, right.” She said with a grin as she started towards the car door. “Pounce works just fine.”

“Don’t you want to know what my name is?” I couldn’t help to ask before we headed to the next train car. After all, we were introducing ourselves.

“Eenope. As a matter of fact, I’m just going to call you Blue, cuz you were all sad and stuff a minute ago. You’re also kinda a downer if you know what I mean. So it fits!” At this point, she was relaxing against one of the nearby slave cages, feeling clever and triumphant at her own remark.

I really wanted to choke this mare to death. But I thought about it for a second, and she was right. Sure, I was being a bit of a pessimist, but I think I have the right to be after last few days’ events. I had been beaten, stabbed, raped, and even took a gore shower.

I turned around and I saw the sad bunch of slaves that made up the whole boxcar. There was at least twelve other ponies in here, and nine of them were awake now. They looked at us with hopeful eyes. Even the psychotic mare in the back of the room (The one I had mentioned earlier) was attentive, even if one eye was twitching. “Get us out of here!” I heard one say.

Half of me wanted to smile while the other half wanted to cry. I wanted to grin; because I was meeting people who I could trust, and didn’t want to bash my head in with an aluminum bat. I was also happy for the reason that I was in a position to save possibly dozens of ponies’ lives. However, the grim part of me thought about what would’ve happened to these ponies—or to me for that matter—had I not have gotten stabbed by that bandit Crocodile. I would’ve just wandered the desert trying to find Canon.

“No worries, everypony, we’ll be back! We have something to take care of, first,” I said, as I let the better part of me give them an optimistic grin.

We opened the train car’s front door, which led to the car’s door in front of us. Then I saw the ground through the gap between the two boxcars.

We moved at an alarmingly dangerous speed in relative to the ground. I had never been on a train before, and for that matter have never moved at this speed before. I couldn’t help but vomit up whatever was left in my stomach. Seeing how fast the tracks were zipping into and out of side, as well as how fast the ground zipped my puke out of sight made me want to vomit once again.

“Woah, woah, you okay?” Pounce asked. For once, it seemed like she genuinely cared, but that good feeling changed when she continued: “Blue, you’re looking a little green!” She then laughed and cackled at her little pun.

Her constant optimism was kind of annoying, but at the same time it helped lift my spirits. I felt like I needed somepony to step in and make things a little fun, to kind of shake things up. After all, I couldn’t help but laugh, even if I was feeling rather nauseous. “No, I’m fine, just never been on a train before...”

“Well, hustle up, move it!” She took her weight off the cage and used her booted hoof to slap my rump, jolting me forward a bit, towards the door. “Mush! Time to get over your fears!”

“Argh!” I groaned. “I was stabbed there, remember?! That’s why there are bandages!” I was stabbed not exactly right where she hit, but just shy from it. Unfortunately, my whole rear end was throbbing from her little ‘push’. I proceeded to the next train car anyways, keeping my eyes fixed in front of me.

Before we actually went in the door of the next train car, Pounce Scratch insisted that she would go in first, being smaller and defter than I was. Before I could object, she threw open the door and darted in at unfathomable speed.

Through the opening of the door whenever Pounce entered, I could see that there was a guard in this car too, along with fourteen more cages. This car was a bit more difficult to clear, however. Firstly, the guard was a unicorn this time, and was levitating a more complex and powerful type of weapon, which looked to be an assault rifle (I have my basic gun knowledge from living next to the Arms Assembly Co. factory in Industead). Secondly, this guard was facing us, and he was on the other side of the car. I knew Pounce was a swift killer, but I wasn’t going to sit by when there was a chance that she would get filled with lead.

All of this was running through my mind in the half a second that Pounce went through the door, and I knew I didn’t have much time to act. At the start of her dash towards the guard, I used my own levitation to fight the guard stallion’s telekinetic grip on the rifle.

“What the—” Before he could finish his already cut-short sentence, Pounce had gotten to his neck, and down he went. Quietly, of course. It was ironic, though, seeing somepony that could pass off as annoying be such a silent killer.

“Thanks!” She said with a light, squeaky voice, and gave me a large grin.

We cleared the next few cars this way, and the rest of the train didn’t hear or notice a single thing. After every car we cleared, Pounce was eager to go ahead to the next one while I took a few seconds to promise every one of the slaves that they shouldn’t be frightened, and that we’d be back for them in a little while. I longed for my gear, however.

“Uhh, Pounce? Do you happen to know where these guys put our belongings?”

“I have no idea.” She said in an inappropriately positive voice. “Maybe they threw them out!”

Fuck. I really hadn’t considered that. I didn’t have much, but it still kept me alive. Oh wait.

The journal.

“What’s wrong?” She asked in her optimistic tone.

“My stuff. I have something in my saddlebags that’s very important to me and a friend of mine. I can’t lose it, I really need my saddlebags.”

“Aww, does little Blue write about her special somepony in a diary?” She retorted, and I could hear some of the fillies in the cages giggling softly in the background.

“No! Listen, I’ve got an important piece of history in my saddlebags, and not having it in my immediate possession is starting to tick me off. I’ve had it ever since I was a filly, and it’s the most important thing I own-”

“Well if you really want your diary, it’s probably in the caboose of the train. If not, tough luck, I guess. The bandits must have got it. I didn’t bring anything with me, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

I felt like scolding her on her word choice, but it didn’t really matter. I turned around and headed for the caboose.

“Hey, woah, where you going?” She crooned.

“Going to get my ‘diary’,” I answered.

The caboose.

It was a treasure trove of loot. It didn’t belong to me, though.

Stacked high to the roof of the car were crates, filled with saddlebags, medical supplies, weapons—you name it. The equipment and supplies once carried by all these slaves were stored here. I just needed to find my two saddlebags, laser cannon and spitfire strap. Everything else should have been in my saddlebags, including things such as my shotgun, journal, pistols, ammunition, money, and maps.

I began to get frustrated when I couldn’t find my belongings. After searching approximately four crates (There had to have been dozens), I began toppling over ones I already searched to get to the crates below them. I took a deep breath, and continued. After some more searching, I found my saddlebags, shotgun, Spitfire Strap, and laser cannon shoved carelessly into a crate.

I was a little annoyed, but glad I found my stuff. I was almost sure I had it all, but I double checked just to make sure. Combat knife, pistols, bits, map of a somewhat older Equestria... the journal wasn’t in this bag.

I checked the other one. Jewels, ammunition. Nada.

No journal.

I threw my saddlebags into the corner of the car and started sifting through the remainder of the boxes. Nothing.

The bandits must’ve kept it. Now that I think about it, the last thing I remember before ending up on the train car is Crocodile lingering over my saddlebags and telling somepony that I was up for offer. At least, that’s how I remember it.

Damn it! Why the hell would anypony even want something like that?! I don’t remember a time not having it with me, and now it's miles away, Goddess knows where, in the hooves of some bandit...

What would Crocodile want with it? When he said “something to show you” over the intercom, did he mean that he wanted to show the journal to a cohort of his? Why was that journal important to them, if that’s the case? So many questions, not enough answers.

I am going to get that journal back.

I had everything except for the journal, and I strapped everything in place as it should be. My saddlebags were organized properly, and I placed the shotgun in my Spitfire Vest, and telekinetically enveloped the special pistol that Pounce had given me. The weapon was odd, but it seemed better than the other ones I had. I suppose I would find out.

I made a point to clean things up a little bit, too. After those ponies are released, they’re probably going to want their belongings.

I felt a sudden hatred for the assholes driving this whole operation. The slavery, the raping, the killing.... I’ve seen too much, and it’s only been one day.

I swear to Celestia, I will eliminate every one of these bastards.

“Well that was fast. What took ya so long?”

What?

“Ok, listen, this next train car is filled with guard ponies, I mean filled like the glass being half full, but it’s a completely full kind of filled—“

“Pounce! Get to the point!” She tended to go on and on without really getting the basic summary of things.

We were at the end of the last slave car, for eliminating the guards in them proved easy enough for Pounce while I was retrieving my things. This slave car was identical to the previous ones. There were roughly fourteen cages per car and maybe six or seven cars—leaving a plentitude of enslaved ponies.

“Okay. There is a big bunch of bad guys in the next car over, which looks to be the head car.” She peeped through the window installed into the door that led to the next car. “And it appears to be the head car!”

“Pounce, you’re—“ Before I could gather my array of thoughts into an organized manner, the sound of an explosion reverberated through the train, shaking my ribcage. Panic and astonishment surged through the slaves as well as I, but it seemed as though my green companion enjoyed it. I wondered many things after that, but only one thing came to mind:

What the hell was that?

I couldn’t hear the ponies in the head car, but I made out a few phrases such as “Bridge”, “Blew up”, and “Aww shit”.

Soon after, a teeth-grinding screech of metal-on-metal rang through my ears, and I couldn’t help but to duck and quickly smother my ears with my hooves. My sluggish mind finally put two and two together, and it came up with a conclusion.

The whole train was heading for a destroyed bridge.

I was not at all sure what to do next. This train was most likely headed for a gorge none of us would ever crawl out of. The train was moving far too quickly for Pounce and I to just be able to jump out of, without breaking something. And, even if we could, I’d rather not. There were too many lives on this train that needed saving.

Without thinking, I telekinetically threw open the door to the next train car and took out both of my slightly deteriorated pistols. Quickly scanning the environment, I made out a pony holding a shovel and standing next to a furnace in the far right corner. To the far left, a stallion was at some sort of old control panel and was overexerting himself, pulling on a lever installed on the floor toward him with such force it looked like it was going to break. That must have been the emergency brake, the thing generating the deafening screech. One armed guard stood next to the door, but I sent a bullet through the head of that one. Let’s just say he didn’t live long.

After giving a fraction of the wall a new paint job, I pointed my twin pistols at both of the remaining ponies. Their eyes widened and they begged for mercy, but I had no intent of killing them. I took a few steps into the car, keeping my weapon armed and ready toward them. Pounce Scratch followed close behind. As expected, I could not see through the front of the car. There were, however, windows on both the left and right sides.

“Pounce, keep these two secured while I check up on the situation through this window,” I said as I motioned towards the window on the right.

“Yes, sir!” She saluted. I was a little annoyed by ‘sir’, but I was beginning to get used to her silliness.

The sudden brightness of the area outside of the train disoriented me for a few seconds, but my eyes adjusted to the light rather quickly. We were still in a very barren and lonely part of the world, and the sand was very similar to what was outside of Industead’s fences. The sun emblazed and charred the landscape, preventing life from growing except for a few roasted shrubs that poked out of the sand. Past all of this, I looked ahead of the train and down the railroad tracks. The tracks gave way to a bridge—or, at least, what used to be a bridge—and would’ve extended over a colossal gorge.

We looked about three- or four- thousand feet from an enormous hole in the ground.

The emergency brake was hardly doing anything. It had to have been worn and weathered down with age.

“Pounce!” I shouted above the noise. “We need to get off this train! I don’t think we’re going to be able to save anypony!”

“What?!” She replied, and for the first time she actually looked worried, yet determined at the same time. “But we need to save these ponies! “They... Have lives to live!”

Part of me wants to just die with the rest of these ponies. Honestly, I should be, if it weren’t for Pounce. But really, there’s nothing that we can do. The train is headed straight for certain doom, and there’s no way to prevent the inevitable. I can’t save them all, but I can try and save as many as I can.

I stepped towards her and gave it a thought for a moment. “Pounce, I need you to go and find as many medical supplies in the back of the train as you can find. You know, bandages, potions, anything like that!”

“But—”

“Don’t question it, just do it! Go!” I commanded. She scurried to her feet and started running to the caboose.

I levitated out my combat knife and kept it safely in the air, and then turned to the two ponies that kept the train going. “How does it feel, knowing you not only enslaved around seven dozen ponies, and then, all of a sudden, they were going to be killed? You sicken me.” I took a second that I probably didn’t have to sigh. “Stay here or I will finish painting the walls when I get back!”

Everything seemed to be going smoothly.

Crack!

One more pony rescued. I’ve been quickly scanning the cars while Pounce Scratch fetched supplies. I’m searching for the healthiest of the ponies and using my combat knife to break the lock on it, freeing them. The only way I can save any of them is by letting them go and jump off the train. By doing this, they may or may not injure themselves, but that’s what the medical supplies are for. Pounce and I will jump off the train once we’re ready, and we, too, will probably injure something. After we land, we’ll muster together and walk to Luna-knows where. It’s not a very good plan, but it’s all we have.

So far, I have only rescued about five healthy-looking individuals.

Crack!

Six.

Many of the ponies started to cry as I walked past, and all I could say was “Sorry, I couldn’t save you...” I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for this. It’s surprising how many ponies weren’t even in shape to be jumping anywhere at all. Some of them don’t even look as though they could walk.

An overstocked Pounce came barging through the rear exit of the current train car. “I did as you asked, O great one!” She said over a mound of two boxes full of goods she was carrying. It looked as though she took everything in the caboose with her. Pounce had everything from guns to bandages to old lunchboxes.

For the love of Celestia. I’ve never seen a pony carry so many things.

“What do I do with this stuff?”

“Pounce, you weren’t supposed to carry so many things! We’re jumping off the train!”

“Oh. Well, no biggie. I’ll just jump with it in my hooves. Seeya on the other side, pardner.” And with that, she leaped out of one of the side doors I left open for ponies I freed.

That girl is a nutcase.

After making sure I had everything with me and that I was ready to go, I looked back at the ponies that were held captive in the train car. “I’m... I’m sorry...” I said, quietly but meaningfully. I shed a single tear before leaping out after Pounce Scratch.

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 6

“Hey, there’s the mare of the hour!” exclaimed an eccentric Pounce Scratch as she fumbled into the room, gripping a ball of yarn between her teeth. “Or really, mare of the day... or no, wait...”

I had awoken in a well-lit room in which the walls were an institutional white and the floor tiling was of the same description. Various cabinets held their contents from my sight lined the walls, and a few posters dealing with pony anatomy and physiology were taped to the wall. The left corner of the room contained a metal desk, covered in stacks of files and papers. On top of the desk sat a standard Stableware desktop (I worked at a computer production factory for a little while, so I had basic knowledge of computers). This must have been a medical clinic of some sort... but where was I? I heard a voice from outside the door.

"Sssssh! The patient needs her rest!"

"Oh, sorry nursie, but I think she's awake!"

My whole body ached, and it came to my attention that my leg was, once again, broken. The single action of just moving sent small bursts of pain throughout my strained body.

I was still assessing the room and gathering my thoughts when a stone-colored earth pony with a lavender mane trotted into the room, accompanying Pounce. She wore a red nurse's cap with a white medical cross displayed on the front, and a matching crimson coat. Emblazoned on the side of the coat were the two letters "RR".

The Red Remnants.

I still sat in the medical clinic with nopony else but Pounce, and my standard mental processes were in full force once more after several minutes of being awake. Pounce had explained to me that after leaping off the train, I didn't land on all fours and must've been knocked unconscious. Pounce and I really were lucky to be alive, especially since the train was going maybe half of the speed it normally was going. Upon jumping off the train, a lot of ponies hadn't even made it. Most had broken their limbs or were now deceased.

The ponies that I couldn't rescue were definitely deceased.

Oh, Celestia, what have I done...? There were approximately a hundred ponies on that train. And I could only save a couple of them...

"So like, where do you come from?" Pounce was currently toying around with her ball of yarn on the floor next to the cot that I rested in. In truth, I envied her. She didn't seem to be thrown off or bothered by went on around her, while I was fretting every little thing, as well as breaking bones and injuring myself more than I really should be.

"Oh, sorry," I replied, "I got lost in my thoughts. I'm from a small town called Industead."

Pounce stopped fiddling with her ball of yarn to look up at me with a shocked expression. "Wow, really? So am I! What's it like there?"

What? How could this mare be from Industea—

I have no idea why I hadn't realized this before. This could just be a coincidence, but I highly doubt it. This had to be my best friend from Industead when I was just a little filly. Her name was Melissa, however, she preferred to be called Mel. She was the only pony that I knew that I could call a friend, because no pony else had the time of day for me. It was the same for her as well. We were partners in crime. We were totally inseparable.

Until my parents informed me that their family was moving.

I didn't even get to say my goodbyes. I remember asking to go over to her house for a play date, but my mother just declined and shook her head. When I asked why, she just replied 'they left'. Her father worked closely with my own. He, too, was a caravan guard. He went missing from the same caravan route that my own father was assigned to. This was partly the reason that the remainder of my family gave up in hoping for his return. I do not recall her dad's name, but he lived alone in Industead while the others in their family moved elsewhere.

I turned to face her as she returned to gleefully rolling the ball around on the floor. By the way she acted, she seemed like a totally different pony. She did not possess such an unorthodox personality when we were fillies—she was more of an introvert.

"Pounce," I said with a skeptical expression as she contradicted mine with a cheerful one, "What is your real name?"

"What are you talking about? This is my real name..." She explained in a sorrowful tone while looking at the floor, letting the ball come to a stop once again.

"Pounce, did you ever once go by the name of... Melissa?"

A grim silence fell over the room. I knew I had asked the wrong question when the silence was broken by the faint sound of sniffling from the little green pony. A small bead of water ran down her cheek from beneath her mane, which now concealed her eyes.

"I... I don't go... by that name anymore..." Her sniffling turned into sobbing. "How did... you know about that...?"

"Mel, it's me. Rain from Industead. We knew each other when we were little."

Her sobbing turned into full-blown bawling when she lifted herself up off the floor, wrapped her forelegs around me, and buried her face in my chest. She only continued to cry.

What happened after she left?

Canon.

That's where I was, according to the nurse that checked on me regularly. Pounce had explained that she and a few others had helped pick my sorry carcass off the ground after I landed. They ran into a few nearby Red Remnant patrols, and they, too, helped in bringing me to Canon.

Canon is an old, canned goods factory that the Remnants set up a headquarters in a few years back. They were able to utilize the rooms and offices for various uses, such as this clinic. Because there were many offices, but weren't all that large, they set up individual clinics that held only one patient each. They re-engineered the factory itself to be able to produce some ammunition and weapon parts, but they're missing some machines and other resources to be able to make what they really need.

I pondered why Red had left a message for me to come here, instead of just waiting for me outside so that we could brave through the waste together. It would've been wiser to have someone like him around, being a seasoned adventurer and all. He also would've known that I wasn't a strong fighter and—judging by the amount of times I ended up in a clinic recently—I couldn't take care of myself to end up all the way out here without a sheer stroke of luck and a few broken bones.

Now that I have time to think about it without ponies firing at or raping me, I've come to a conclusion about Red's actions: it was all a selfish method of doing things. If that was Red—which, I am led to believe it was—who was the assailant of Gorman, then he was inches away from pulverizing my flank, possibly ending my life. Then, he proceeded to get himself captured, and left me in Industead to be chased by gore-covered guards and to trek the unknown and to search for only what I thought existed.

In summary, I have a right to be pretty cross with him.

Later that day, Red dropped in to check on me just as the nurse promised he would.

"Rain!" He walked suavely in the clinic but seemed to lack the upbeat nature that he had when I met him. He greeted me by trotting up to me and wrapped a foreleg around me while I still lay in bed. His hug wasn't as comforting as I had anticipated it would be. When he stepped back, he looked at the floor.

I simply returned his kind, yet limp greeting with a cold expression. "Took me long enough to get here." I looked back down at my leg, sorrowfully. He followed my gaze with a similar look.

He hung his head for a brief moment, and spun around to face the nurse, who was working at her desk in the corner of the room. "Would you mind leaving us?"

The nurse nodded and trotted gracefully out of the clinic.

As soon as the door closed, he corrected his body to face me once again. "Listen, I'm sorry, bu—"

I cut him off. "No. Don't be. This must all be a game in your sick, twisted world." I don't know where I was getting the courage to confront him like this. "I was beaten, brutalized, enslaved, stabbed, knocked unconscious, raped, and forced to sleep in my own blood in the past two days that I was cast off into this uncharitable hellhole we call home. If there was one thing that was right about what the demented buck whose brain you degenerated said, it was that the area really does fucking suck. And you left a teenage mare out in it to fend for herself after you took away her only home. Not to mention almost punching a hole through my ass."

He returned my harshness with a trembling expression that I will never forget. It screamed both 'help me!' and 'I'm sorry' simultaneously. I watched as the battle-hardened stallion began to break down in my presence. He fell on his haunches and hung his head in a pathetic manner. Two tears fell from beneath his thick mane, which shrouded his face at this point.

"I... I'm..." He couldn't get his words out. "I don't know how I'm going to forgive myself for doing that. It was wrong, and I knew it. But something inside of me told me that you could do it, and it was my foalish soldier's instinct that told me that you could... and... I have to forget that not everyone is able to do such things..."

He looked up, smiling a little bit. He forced a small chuckle from beneath the blanket of sorrow that befell the room, then continued.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know my apology is not enough, judging by all the injuries and suffering you just experienced. But it's all I can give you, other than full access to Canon. I just hope that you can forgive me... for all the selfish things that I just put you through."

He hung his head for a brief moment to allow more tears to roll down his face, then continued once again.

"Also, I will admit it: the second shot I fired off was aimed for you. Not intentionally, of course. But it's been so long since I actually had to use the rifle, and I was shaky..." He shook his head as if he disagreed with himself. "No, no excuse. I... I screwed up. I did. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He picked himself off the floor pitifully and traveled towards the clinic doorway.

"No, Red, wait..." I called out to him. I would've stuck out my hoof to reach for him, but even that caused pain.

Great. I made a childhood friend cry at my hooves, and made a seasoned hitman do the same all in one day. I know I've been through through hell the past couple of days... but that doesn't mean I have to take it out on anypony. Yeah, what he did was wrong... and pretty selfish, too. Eerrgh! I need to go straighten things out with him.

For now... I need to sleep some more. I don't have the energy to go anywhere, nor am I even able to transport myself out of this room.

"Listen, I know why you're in here... I told you, I'm sorry. I apologize for what I had don—"

I was in Red's office the next morning. I asked the nurse if she'd show me where his office was, and if she'd help me get there. I had received a crutch from her, and told me it was near the top floor. Let's just say that those stairs were a real pain in the flank to traverse.

I had been seated in a run-of-the-mill aluminum chair in front of his desk, while he sat in a similar chair behind it.

"Actually, I'm here to apologize to you."

I told him of the thoughts and feelings that swam through my head about the way that I acted yesterday. I told him about the bandits, the post office, the slave train, Twilight's library—all of my 'fun adventures' up to this point in time.

In response, he shamefully put his face in his hooves. "Ergh," he groaned. "I don't know how I'll—"

I rammed his desk with my crutch in an effort to snap him out of his pity trip. I wasn't going to bring my troubles down on others again. "Please, stop. I’m not into seeing you like this."

"Right." He lifted his head up in confidence, and exhaled in the form of a deep sigh. Ah, confidence. One of the only traits I knew that Red had, and I am glad to see him displaying it again. "You mentioned something about being assaulted by a mysterious stallion in the post office?

"Yeah. It was really strange, as if he appeared right behind me. He used the handle of a golden pistol to incapacitate me from behind. I don't know why he didn't just kill me."

"Oh, you ran into him." He made it sound like running into this stallion wasn't exactly common, but his actions to be predictable. "He's the Mayor of Ponyville."

The Mayor? Like the one that Industead has—or had—as a total ruler? But why would anypony want a to rule a ghost town? I asked these questions.

He sat back in his chair. "Wow, they didn't let you get out much, did they?" He maintained a dark look in his eye, even while he asked a silly question he already knew the answer to. "The Ironpony Trading Company is sadly the only form of government in Equestria nowadays. They do more conquering than trading. After taking a city, the Company places a high-ranking official that they call a Mayor in charge of the town. From there, that town is pretty much theirs to do what they want with it. Industead, from what I saw, was a town focused solely on production. Ponyville, a trading hub, is not a ghost town, people just prefer to stay indoors a majority of the time, mainly due to bandits and the Mayor that governs there.

"Well, I'm just glad I can stay out of it here at Canon."

"What are you talking about? Nopony rides for free. We need all the help we can get!"

"What? What do I have to do?"

"Either fight, or help bring in supplies. Doesn’t matter which one you pick, you’re still going to be shooting at something, since all the labor slots are full. Speaking of which, why not come with us to a bandit camp just west of here? They've been manifesting ourselves and have been a thorn in our side for far too long. Now that we have several new members courtesy of you and Pounce..." He said that last sentence fragment with a tone that made me feel like I had done something I was not supposed to do.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, but I nearly killed myself to save those ponies. They're traumatized and lucky to be alive right now. Pounce and I thought it was okay that you shelter a few more souls in your re-purposed factory base."

"Oh, it is," Red said, sounding somewhat annoyed. "But we're short on supplies right now, Rain, and we're going to need your help to get them."

My fate was sealed. I didn't have a choice.

I spent the next few days recovering and going through the supplies that Pounce and I had gathered. Thanks to the fact that Pounce is a hoarder and grabbed crates when we left the train, we had quite a few things to contribute to Canon.

Pounce cleverly placed the crates in a secluded area of the factory, where no one would get to or ask about it. This was smart, also because she knew that the Remnants would probably confiscate them for supplies if they were they just laying out in the open.

The stuff Pounce impossibly took amounted to quite a bit. We had a substantial amount of medical supplies, ammunition, food, and weapons. Since the Remnants couldn't spare anything except food, this is where Pounce and I got our newest gear from.

Going through the crates, I found various ammunition for weapons that were foreign to me, and a few shotgun shells and pistol magazines that worked with my own weapons. I took them and stored them in a smaller pocket in my saddlebags. There were no weapons that caught my eye except for a bolt-action rifle that needed a good cleaning, which Red helped me with. This weapon was added to my small collection.

Pounce Scratch, on the other hoof, didn't use or need very much at all. She took a small saddlebag with some medical supplies in it, and a brown cloak that was rather concealing for her, considering her small size. She insisted that all she needed were her own two forelegs. I wanted to argue with her, but then I remembered her deadly efficiency on the train.

As for the rest of the supplies, we let Red give those to the ponies we rescued—who were now staying at Canon—and to use for the Remnants.

During my stay at Canon, I did many different things to keep myself sane instead of lying in a medical cot. Even though I wasn't supposed to, I would get on my crutch and explore the building. The first thing I found interesting about how the Remnants utilized the old can factory was that one of the conveyer rooms was used as a mess hall. One of the large conveyers was shut down specifically for use as a table, where the members and I would eat together. A separate room next to the mess hall served as a kitchen. Ovens, refrigerators and other culinary utilities were installed here.

Another thing that I found resourceful of them was how they used the spare rooms. The can factory was built with an array of spare rooms to use as office or storage. The Remnants, however, used these as barracks and clinics, depending on the size. Canon still had a few spare rooms left over, and Red presented me with one as my very own.

I had my very own room.

I had never had much of my own space. The only privacy and sense of possession I knew was the area around my cot and my footlocker in Industead. To be able to have a whole room to myself was, to say the least, odd. I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. The space came with a comfortable cot, a dresser, and two lockers, but the rest of it was a void waiting to be filled. Then I thought about why I was even alive and able to come here to Canon.

Pounce Scratch had saved my life. Not once, but twice. She broke me out of the cage, fought our way through each train car, and picked my sorry carcass out of the sand when things went haywire. And not only this; she also saved my life from a future of hopelessness. She was my first and only friend—however short lived our friendship was—who had given me hope and understanding that there were a few other worthwhile ponies out there. Pounce's friendship was the initial spark that kept me going throughout my days in Industead. Yet here she was, many years later, back into my life.

It was official. I was going to share the room with Pounce.

"It's going to be just like a slumber party!" Pounce shouted, as she bounced up and down on the newly-placed cot that resided in our room. "We're going to stay up all night, and sleep all day! We'll have a slumber party every day! Wait, if it's a slumber party and we don't sleep, then what is it? A non-sleeping party! So would that just be a normal party? Yeah! We'll party every day and all night! But we'll need to sleep at some point, so it is a slumber party after all—"

"Pounce!" Part of me wanted to laugh when she rambled on about things of that nature, but we had work to do. Now that my leg was almost completely healed, we needed to gear up for the days to come. I knew I couldn't live at Canon forever, I had no place here. I also haven't been contributing to the Remnant's efforts much. Pounce and were going to help raid a bandit's hideout—that of which may still be inhabited—and we didn't have much time for relaxation or games. I had already seen and experienced what bandits do to ponies, and not all of these ponies are as fortunate as I was.

We needed to train ourselves as best as possible so that we didn't become unfortunate souls. I didn't want to see another person I cared about suffer.

I let out a good sigh before attempting to lighten the mood. "It's really good to see you again. I... missed you."

She looked at me, and her bright expression quickly turned dark as she stared off at the floor. "I missed you too..." She admitted in a raspy, inconsistent tone.

Something really traumatic must've happened when she left Industead, or sometime after. If just the sheer thought of us knowing each other back then revoked those memories, then I was sure that it wasn't in our best interest to talk about it. Instead, I unpacked my things in silence as she sat on her side of the room in silence, staring at her boots.

I got my gear ready for what was to come. We weren't sure if bandits still inhabited the area, but I should be prepared in case they were. I fastened the pistol—that of which had the black thing that I recently discovered was what was called a suppressor—that Pounce had given to me in the smaller pocket in the Spitfire Vest. I secured the sawed-off shotgun in the larger holster on the vest, and prepared ammunition in multiple easy-to-reach places on the vest. I found a spot to strap in my bolt-action rifle so I could pull it out and levitate it when needed. I also ensured that my combat knife was easily accessible. I decided to leave the other weapons here at Canon on the day of our arrival, including the laser cannon. Now to focus on the room.

If this was going to be my new home for the foreseeable future, then I wanted to make it more... homely. I located a stool just outside our new room, and used that as a makeshift nightstand. I placed the few bits I had on it, and rummaged around in my bags for the journal.

Shit. The bastards still have my journal.

With rage and fury boiling inside me, I tipped over the stool, sending the bits flying, kicked my saddlebags across the floor and smothered my face in my pillow. I tried to cry, but I just couldn't do it anymore. With everything that has happened, I could not convey any more sorrow. Part of me just wanted to weep forever, but a new part of me was beginning to swell.

Determination.

I don't know what those rapists would want with a book, anyways. They did, however, make some money off of me by selling me to his boss, whoever that might be. So I presumed they did the same thing with my journal. It wasn't on the train, and I knew this as a fact because I triple-checked my scavenging. If it wasn't on the train, then it was still in Ponyville.

I wasn't going to live in Canon for forever if it meant losing my most valuable and sentimental possession. Not only do I need that journal, the Red Remnants need it too. And if the Remnants need it, there is a good chance their enemy does as well: the Trade Company. Do those bandits... work for the Company?

I glanced up from my solution of contemplation and rage to see Pounce approach me as I laid face-first in bed. How embarrassing, I thought. I could tell she wasn't thinking the same thing when she took off her boot and laid her naked hoof on my back, comfortingly. I haven't the slightest idea why I found this arousing, but I fought the idea out of my head.

I said in a low, muffled, voice: "Thanks, Pounce." I exasperated and lifted my head a little off the pillow before continuing. "You know you've always been there for me, even when you weren't."

It was the day of the attack.

Our squad wasn't as large as I had hoped... or expected. Pounce and I had gotten together with Red, who rallied up about five other Remnants to take the bandit camp that existed out west. We were ready and loaded for crazy as we made our way out into the barren slate that I have come to known as Equestria.

The light permeated my eyes, blinding me. I had been inside Canon for quite a few days, so many that I had lost track. While my eyes adjusted to accept the new-found light, we checked our supplies once again and headed off to take care of this camp.

I was particularly fascinated about how the Remnants oriented themselves. Red, who was obviously the leader, went over hoof-based commands with his squad. The soldiers—I guess one could call them this—had amazing skill with their hind legs. As such, they were able to stand on only those to increase the weapon mastery. After all, it is hard for an earth pony to use a firearm.

We trekked under the unforgiving sun. Getting there was difficult because of this, but it made things easier to have my only two friends here by my side. Pounce Scratch trotted loyally beside me, as I did the same with Red.

I glanced down to look at Pounce, who was bobbing her head side to side as if she were listening to a song. She continued to possess an upbeat mood. I desperately wanted to ask about what had happened to her after she left Industead, but I didn't want to kill her mood again. Then again, her and I both knew that I needed to know what happened, eventually. I decided against my better judgment to bring up the touchy topic once more.

"Pounce. I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh, what is it? Ask away."

I gave an exasperated sigh before continuing.

"You see, it's important that I know about what happened after you moved away from our hometown. I won't let my best friend keep her most traumatizing tribulations from me."

Her gleeful head-bobbing turned into a gloomy stare at the ground. Our conversation continued as we walked. Her tone became the tone of another pony. "Bandits. They took us. Well, not all of us." She paused before continuing. "We weren't too far from Industead, and we were making our way to Ponyville to find a public transport service to Manehattan, I remember. That's when we were interrupted by a bunch of thugs. I don't recall it well, but they wanted something from my parents, and they didn't seem to have it. Or they didn't give it to them, one of the two. When my parents couldn't cough whatever it was up, they kidnapped my mom and I. They tried to take my dad, but when he resisted with force, they shot him. They took my mother and I to some run-down building I believe, and they asked her lots of questions. I just had to sit there and watch as they hit her over and over when she couldn't answer the questions, and I know now that they raped her afterward. I don't know what they did to me, but it was excruciatingly painful. Afterwards, they just let me go into the desert, to fend for myself. To live with the horrors of seeing both my parents killed in different manners."

I was speechless. I thought something of this caliber might have happened, but to hear it confirmed was kind of devastating. It made sense and all, but I didn't put two and two and two together. Before I could say this, a voice from ahead yelled back at us.

It was one of the Remnant soldiers. Apparently we had fallen behind. "Hey, you two lovebirds need to catch up!" Pounce and I exchanged a blushed look and ran up to integrate ourselves with the group once again. We traveled onward.

Bandits.

They opened fire on us as we approached their hideout. They seemed to know we were coming.

Pounce and I took cover behind a large pile of scrap metal and other assorted junk. They've already felled one of our Remnant soldiers. Red went the opposite direction of Pounce and I, and soldiers ducked behind other miscellaneous forms of cover. I'm starting to wish I took the laser cannon. Dammit.

I told Pounce to keep an eye out while I positioned myself on the mound of scrap metal when the firing ceased a little. Instead of making myself obvious by surrounding my bolt-action rifle in my telekinetic envelope, I positioned it comfortably on the mound and used my magic to grip the trigger. I took aim at one of the bandits and analyzed the area as best as I could before taking the shot.

We battled in front of a building maybe a half to a third of the size of Canon, and definitely not as well-kept as it, either. In front of the building, as I had mentioned, were mounds of garbage and other scrap. A tower that still stood was approximately forty meters to the left from the pile of scrap that Pounce and I used as cover. That's where Red was: at the base of it along with two other Remnants. I didn't know where the others were.

By the looks of it, I assumed our numbers were roughly equal to theirs. I took the shot.

The bullet soared clean through the scumbag's head, ridding him of this world. The target practice I took the time to do was really worth it. The enemy took note of this, and began riddling the pile full of lead, sending small bits of debris and scrap over us. I ducked down and took a moment to look at Pounce.

She sat there with an angry, determined fire in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking, and her and I both knew it was ludicrous to be ludicrous at this moment in time. Not far from now, she's going to unleash it. I had the selfish thought of using her anger to our advantage, which we very well could. But if it meant her getting hurt... I just couldn't live with myself. So for now, I just reassured her to stay calm and to focus.

I repositioned myself on the other side of the refuse-composed knoll to see if I could get another clean shot. The field of vision through my iron sights was filled with the yellow coat of a bandit pony, coming up closer and faster than my brain could process.

The mound of refuse exploded as the bandit pony rammed his body into it from the opposite side, throwing me back. He stepped over the large divide he created in the pile, carrying a gauntlet on his hoof I have never seen before. Pounce reacted to what happened by attempting to leap onto our heavy-set assailant to stab at his neck, but he countered her attack by shoving his gauntlet into her chest, sending her flying backward a good couple of meters.

Pounce!

I quickly decided to kill him in the most messy of ways as possible, but that plan ended when I attempted to pull the shotgun out of its holster with my telekinesis. With his deathly-looking gauntlet, he pounded my sawed-off shotgun into smithereens. It was history. His next blow was aimed for my face.

I moved my head out of the way as his mechanical nightmare whizzed past my head, pounding into the earth with such girth my head shook. My face was showered with sand. "Aaaggh!"

I was blind. I couldn't open my eyes without them burning, which was already the case. I sat there, wriggling and sprawling, futilely attempting to get away from the ferocious stallion who wanted to make my head one with the earth. He was right above me, and I waited to be pounded into oblivion.

This didn't happen, however. I could faintly make out what was going on through the little I could see and from what I could hear. Pounce recovered from her blow faster than one normally should have, and was already on the back of our attacker. Hearing the sound his flesh made when impaled by a multitude of six- or seven-inch long claws made me want to throw up, but it was a better sound to hear than the sound of my own skull being crushed like a pumpkin.

I sprawled up off the ground and tried to see the bloody scene from my reddened eyes. It was a horrible sight—Pounce was not content with just a clean impalement. Her hatred was unleashed on him, torn into him. Pounce didn't stop after sinking her claws into him, she brutalized him with her claws. Swipe after swipe, she tossed away skin as if she were cutting out construction paper to make a collage. When she was done with the skin... she kept going. I had to pull her off and restrain her.

I did this, and her arms kept flailing, trying to deface and gut even more of the mangled carcass. She was crying. She'd been repressing sadness and anger under a thick layer of happiness. She'd been hiding the emotionally scarred self with her feline-like nature. She'd replaced Mel with Pounce. She'd replaced the truth with a lie.

After a few moments that I didn't have, her body went limp and she replaced her rage with subtle sobbing. I had to put her aside and continue fighting. We had no choice. I was here to help fight with the Remnants, not to be a counselor.

I positioned myself in the sizable void that the tank of a pony created in our pile of garbage and took out another bandit with my bolt-action rifle. As soon as he went down, our barrier shook violently under the suppressed fire that it absorbed. I slunk back as far to the ground as possible to avoid flying lead and debris, but their bullets stopped after a short while.

The suppressed fire—however short lived—gave me some time to sum up my surroundings once again. Red stayed in the same location—being a marksman and all—while the other Remnants advanced towards the building, thus applying more pressure on the bandits on more than one side. This was good. I decided to make my way across quickly to meet up with Red, and I suggested to Pounce that she navigated around the right side and take them out while they're focused on keeping fire on our left. She did so, and made her way quickly and stealthily around the mounds of refuse while I dashed over towards Red.

It was a success. They were too busy dealing with the Remnants further ahead. Dashing out of the incoming fire, I slid behind the same barrier that Red was using. From this distance, it would be hard to land a clean shot on us unless they had Red's marksmanship.

I spoke to Red above all the bullet impacts and the sound of firearms going off. He was prone in the sand, with his rifle set on a bipod off the ground. He was looking for a decent shot. "Red, what's next after we deal with these guys?"

"We're here for retrieving supplies," he calmly stated before firing his rifle.

"Besides, we need to do away with these guys in the first place." Red quickly jerked his head away from the scope in surprise, and gave off a light hearted laugh.

"Damn, Rain. Are all of your friends cold-blooded killers?" he questioned jokingly, as he pointed his hoof out in front of him towards the building. Peeking around cover, I witnessed Pounce weave around piles of scrap and barrels to violently assassinate one of the opposition. She left a trail of dead ponies in her wake, chaining each and every kill to the following one.

I sat there staring at the ground in a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. I had never seen her like this before, and to see her swap personalities like that is downright frightening. She possessed a soldering rage in her eyes and heart as she leapt from one pony to another, each one not satisfying her thirst for either revenge or blood. After she had finished off the last visible bandit, she raised a hoof to give the 'all-clear' signal.

"Pounce, I told you to be careful." I said flatly, wrapping her shoulder with bandages. She had taken two bullets in her shoulder during her bloody rampage, and collapsed by the time we got in the building. By the time her adrenaline and pure hatred had worn off, the pain and hindrance of having lead inside of one’s body kicked in. Red and I were able to patch her up with the supplies we found around the building.

It seemed to me her dual personalities had a fine line between them. She was calming down and resting now, letting her mind be at ease. She was turning from the scarred, disturbed Melissa and back into the upbeat Pounce that I am quite fond of. She was laying peacefully on a mattress we took off of one of the beds.

I sat with Pounce while Red checked the rest of the building. I wasn't too keen on leaving her unattended until Red came back. When he did, he let me know that the bandits had already left the building. This allowed us to search for supplies. The soldiers brought extra saddlebags to accommodate the supplies we planned on looting. What really caught my eye was a sort of library in on of the hallways on the second floor. I told Red to go ahead while I looked in it.

It became clear that it wasn't much of a library at all. It was complete with a writing desk and a few head-high bookshelves. I was rather surprised to find that the shelves actually contained books that were kept in good condition. This made my heart flutter, not having access to many new books for quite some time. Sticky notes and index cards lined the walls where the shelves did not, and did not stop there. I found a few scattered in odd spots on the floor.

I trotted over to the desk. A blank stack of index cards sat next to an equally-sized blank stack of sticky notes. My eyes panned over to the center of the desk, where an average-sized laptop computer sat. Opening it up, I found it was manufactured by Stableware—a standard of computer technology. I picked it up to put it in my saddlebags (I figured nopony else was going to use it) when I noticed a piece of paper under it. It was a letter. I decided to be nosy and read it:

Mayor,

Yes, we know you need the money. We're trying to scrape up a couple bits as fast as we can to transfer them over to you, but we just don't have them. Please give us a little more time. Also, about your resident disappearance problem? I heard Crocodile's gang has been rousing up ponies from Ponyville and selling them off Celestia-knows-where. Damned bandits... You should “talk” to them.

As for sending ponies up to Baltimare, I heavily advise against such an action. The Arisen Dusk cult have been creating these weird monsters that look like living shadows. They're pretty freaky. Our station has been calling them Ethershadows.

Sincerely,

Drab

I came across a history book and a book published based on Twilight's scientific research, and stuck those in my saddlebags and read them later. However, my jaw hit the floor when I found a book written on magic spells! I tore it open and glued my eyes to its pages. I have been waiting to read something like this for a very long amount of time, as such things were banned from Industead. Pfft. The "earth pony way" is ridiculous.

I found many spells that seemed rather useless. I did find a spell that allowed you to focus on and move air particles, but it was weak enough to the point where it would do nothing but ruffle one's clothing. I found it interesting, though, because I could never focus my telekinesis on air. A rule of hoof about telekinesis is that if you can focus on its existence, you can probably maneuver it. It's quite hard to focus on anything that is fluid, which is why a solid object is very easy to get grasp. Water is difficult to maintain, and air is near impossible to control. The particles are just too loose. After some debating, I decided to take a little while to learn it. I found that by focusing and wrapping my magic around it, I inherited magic that was infused in the page itself. It was probably a waste to stop and learn this particular spell, but I wasn't worried about that now.

I found a second spell, one that I think would be more useful. I believe a lot of these are just harmless spells for beginners, but can be built upon and strengthened later. This one that I found was a "sleep shot" as the book described it. This blast of magic is very silent and apparently renders the target drowsy, but not enough for them to fall asleep. Sounds like it would be useful in battle, to slow or disorient my opponent. Hopefully I won't have to engage in any more fighting.

The rest of the book was composed of silly pranks or magic 'tricks' that was used to entertain ponies. These consisted of fake fireworks, sparkly spells, and illusions. I was not much of an entertainer myself, so I wasn't particularly interested in these. I decided to put the book away. As I was about to delve into my science book, Red walked calmly into the room. I peeked above it to hear what Red had to say.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable!" He said, with a slight smile. "We're staying here for the night. Our men are tired, we're tired, and there's too much stuff to carry. We're having a couple Remnants come here in the morning to help carry it back. We would do it now, but it's about four-thirty in the afternoon, so it will be dark in two or three hours. You can crash wherever, but there's a couple beds downstairs in case you wanted to rest closer to your friend. Speaking of which, she's a little on the crazy side, isn't she?"

"She's been through a lot. She watched her parents get slaughtered by bandits when she was just a filly. She's somehow survived on her own up to this point."

"Sounds rough," he said, looking down darkly for a moment. "I hope she'll be okay. Do you think she'll need counseling?"

"No, I think she'll be fine as long as she has some good people to take care of her for a while."

It was eight-forty. Nearly time for me to go to bed. Pounce rested in her cot, unfettered by the things that rested within her mind. She was at peace. This peace would most likely end in the morning, but I'll keep high hopes that she'll be back to her normal self by then.

I am got ready for bed. I've decided to move one of the beds from one of the other rooms and place it next to where Pounce lay. I couldn't help but to stay close to her; I felt as though she needed someone she could trust. I was the closest thing that fit the bill. I wished Red good night, a drifted off to sleep.

<========= o—o—o—0—0—0—O—O—O—O—0—0—0—o—o—o =========>

An impenetrable darkness surrounded me in all directions.

It were as if I was invisible. I tried looking down at my own hooves, but they weren't there. I had no feeling whatsoever. There was an absence of the feelings of existence and self-control. It was as if my brain awoke before the rest of my body did. I wondered if this was what it was like to be dead.

A small, cloaked figure began to permeate and take form in the darkness, getting larger and less vague so that I could see it. When I realized the basic details of what I was seeing, I actually believed that I was dead. A walking skeleton of a pony cloaked in ornate, hooded navy robes began to walk towards me, leaving a small trail of indigo aura in its wake. It was rather large for a pony, but I was sure it was the skeleton of one. It spoke to me.

"Greetings, young one." It spoke with a persuasive, feminine voice that reverberated, yet in a place with no barriers to reflect sound.

It was odd enough seeing a skeleton speak to me in a void, but even more so to be able to force words out without having a body. "Wh- Where am I? Who are you? What is-"

"Who I am is not of importance. Names are for those who wish to be identified. I do not at this immediate point in time. What matters is who you are. I've been tracking you for some time now, ever since you were a filly. I've done the same for each member of your family until death, not excluding your ancestors. As for where you are, you 're on the outside edge of reality. Where things do not exist like things do in your home of Equestria. You are currently not dead, nor are you alive. We're not near each other, it just seems that way because reality is being bent."

This was all too weird. I began to realize that this had to be a dream, and I remember that one of these dreams is called a 'lucid' dream. Once one realizes it is a dream, it can toyed with however the dreamer wishes. I chose to see where this dream was going. "Why is it that we're speaking, then? And why have you been tracking my family tree?"

"It's a long tale. A very long one for both of us, my little friend." The skeleton moved to face me directly.

"You belong in a family tree that is special. You... have a gift. The same gift that has saved Equestria from danger numerous times. A gift that hasn't been pushed to its full potential quite yet. One that no one in your family tree but you is on the track to unlocking. Our once great nation needs someone like you, and with my guidance we can strengthen and empower Equestria, nearly to its ancestral state."

I sat speechless. I couldn't processing being on the edge of reality and existence. To make matters more ridiculous, I was speaking to a skeleton that somehow managed to stand, let alone speak.

"I must go now. Goodbye, Rain. We will speak again when the time is right."

<========= o—o—o—0—0—0—O—O—O—O—0—0—0—o—o—o =========>

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 7

"Hey Mom, can I go with Mel to the parade today? It'll be lots of fun!" I asked.

"No, my little Rain-drop." My mother bent down to get face-to-face with me before continuing. "The factories are all working harder during things like parades, so the air isn't as clean."

"Aww, but Mom!"

"No buts, sweetie. I don't want you getting sick out there."

"Aw, c'mon let her go." Dad had been relaxing after some mandatory physical training early in the morning. He had just stepped into the conversation and stood beside me, wrapping a foreleg comfortingly around my neck. "The air is always filthy here, we've just gotten used to it! Isn't that right, Rain?"

"Yeah!" I exclaimed, enthusiastically.

"Oh, alright. But bring your mask in case it gets too bad!" Crystal warned.

"Yay! Thanks Mom! Thanks Dad!" I gave both Crystal and Sleet a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek before preparing my one small saddlebag.

"Anytime, cupcake," my father said.

I grabbed my lunch out of the refrigerator, as well as my breathing mask, and dropped them both in my bag. It was recently my sixth birthday, so my mother and father went out a bought me an aluminum baseball bat that read IND across one side of it. I took that with me too, because I heard there would be a couple of ponies playing softball after the parade.

- - -x-x-x- - - -

"Rain, pack up, we're leaving soon."

I sat up, more quickly and with more force than I thought I did, knocking Red in the jaw with my head. Oops.

"Gah, Rain, what's gotten into you?!" He backed up, rubbing his chin with his hoof.

"Heh, sorry." I said, scratching my head with my own hoof. "Just had a crazy nightmare, is all."

"Well, you can tell me about it later, if you want. The other Remnants came by and picked up the supplies this morning. I, however, have been assigned to another task. They're sending me to Baltimare, where I will be staying with a friend in order to keep watch over the town. Luckily, it's not governed by the Trade Company, so it'll most likely a relaxing job. The only thing I'll have to do is report anything unusual. I know you've been under the most stress in the past couple of weeks than in your whole life, so maybe it’ll be a new beginning from here on out. I'm giving you and Pounce a choice. Do you want to come with me to Baltimare, or would you rather stay at Canon? I already asked Pounce, and she said it's up to you."

This was sudden. I was really hoping to relax and maybe do a little bit of reading, but that wasn't going to happen for a while. However, Pounce needs me, and I need Red. If I don't come, there will be a weak link between the three of us. I would also like to find out more about my father and his whereabouts. I am hoping Baltimare will have enough information to point me in the right direction. If not, then I can always have a nice place to stay in and do some exploring of the city. I made my decision.

"I'll go." I stated bluntly, breaking a still silence.

"What?" Red replied, as if he were in shock. "After the hell you've been through?"

"Yeah. I think I need an adventure like this. I want to see more of the world. I know beyond Ponyville and Canon there is more than just dirt, sand, and bandits. And I want to experience it for myself. Besides, I would be completely useless here."

Red paused for a minute, thinking."Well, alright, if you say so." He agreed while scratching his head with a forehoof. "A convoy of remnants will be coming shortly with a vehicle we'll be using to get there. The drive will be maybe... eight hours? I suggest you bring a few things to do, because it’s going to be awhile before we get where we need to go. I’m also going to bring some music in case we end up getting bored of listening to the sound of tires on sand and asphalt.”

“What about the stuff I had in our room back at Canon?”

“The Remnants knew I would take you with me, so I asked that they bring your stuff with them. It’s sitting next to where Pounce is sleeping.”

One thing was for sure: I had loads of reading to do. There were a couple books I already had in my bags, as well as more upstairs. I could only bring what I could carry, so I stuck with the science and history books. There was still some leftover room, so I took the tome of useless spells with me, which I thought I could get a good laugh from.

“Is Pounce okay?” I noticed she wasn’t in the cot next to me where she was asleep the night before. I couldn’t help but to worry about her and think that her injury was my fault. I kept having to remind myself that it was not my fault, that things like this always happen in battle, but I couldn’t help but feel responsible for everything that’s happened to her. Had I just been there earlier in her life, she wouldn’t be such a wreck. If I hadn’t taken advantage of her pure hatred and let her flank the bandits yesterday, she wouldn’t have a wound in her side.

“Oh, yeah, she’s fine. She’s up and about. I think she’s eating breakfast if you want to go say good morning to her.” Red gave me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks. For everything.” I said in a dull, but grateful tone, as I positioned myself comfortably to sit up on the bed. “I’m going to get ready to go.” I stepped off of the bed, and walked past Red, returning the smile. I wanted to see Pounce before I did anything else.

That’s exactly what I did. I made my way into the dining area, which happened to be a room like any other, haphazardly furnished with scattered tables. I found Pounce at one of them, gleefully tossing a salad in her hooves and then allowing it to drop onto a dinner plate. She performed this process over and over again before she noticed me looking at her as I stood in the doorway.

“Oh, good morning!” Pounce looked up from her mixed plate of leafy greens, giving me a gleeful expression. “Look, I made us a salad!”

I returned her smile with a content, satisfied glare. I was glad to see her okay and well, and even more so to see her happy again. I wondered where she got the ingredients to throw together such a thing, but I have learned to expect nothing less from such an eccentric, resourceful pony.

“Good morning, Pounce.” I took a seat next to her. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Oh, I’m making a salad for us. I offered to share with Red, but he said he already ate and insisted that I share it with you.” She started to move the plate around and prod at objects in her pile of greens with her hooves. “Look, I found some cherry tomatoes and bread crumbs that the bandits left, so I decided to put them in!”

Pounce lifted the plate up to reveal a second one. She split the contents of the first one in half, put the division of salad on the second, and slid it in front of me. “Eat up,” she said.

It wasn’t too bad of a breakfast. It tasted pretty dehydrated, but the tomatoes made up for it and it was loads better than eating polluted apple slices. I was hungry and wanted to shove it all down my throat at once, but that would’ve been rude and I wanted to savor the food.

“Listen, Rain...” Pounce’s tone was more serious than normal, but not alarmingly so. “I want to talk to you about yesterday.”

I lifted my head up from my vegetarian feast. “What about?”

“You know. The way I acted so recklessly.”

“Pounce, you don’t need to worry about that. I understand perfectly.” I explained this as I used a nearby napkin to wipe tomato juice from my mouth. “Horrible things happened when you were little, and it’s ruined you on the inside. It’s starting to have its toll you, as well as those you want to seek revenge on. I know it hurts to talk about, Pounce, but you know I’m here for you, always, even if I haven’t been for a majority of your life.”

My sappy monologue was concluded when Pounce threw her forelegs around me, embracing me in a warm hug. “Thanks, Rain, I knew deep down inside you’d find me one day.” She receded back to sit in her chair. “But one day, I must’ve lost all sense of who I was, and I became this bipolar mess of anger and fake happiness.”

I looked glumly at my now empty plate. It’s a shame that such a thing has happened to Pounce. She never really deserved any of it, and she’s suffering even greater from post-trauma than the events themselves. Red walked into the room, bursting my bubble of thought. He stood at the table, looking over us with a relaxed expression similar to mine.

“Hey, you two. A humvee is here for us to take down to Baltimare. They brought your gear, too, like they promised. Meet me outside when you’re ready to head out. Oh, also, here.” He shoved his muzzle into his coat, and raised his head to reveal a metallic-looking object, about the diameter of his hoof, and placed it on the table. “I brought my Stableware music player for you to listen to.”

Pounce and I didn’t have much as it was, so we were pretty much packed and ready. When I was sure Pounce was prepared, we mustered up our things and headed outside. We were immediately greeted by some rusty-looking Remnants, the humvee, and gear in boxes sprawled across the ground, in the midst of being loaded into the vehicle by Remnants.

The colossal humvee appeared to be extremely sturdy and could easily accommodate Pounce, Red and me, as well as a few Remnants. However, based on what Red had told me, it was just going to be the three of us. The off-road vehicle had been painted a desert camouflage, presumably to match the desert biome that surrounds us. I prepared my belongings to be loaded alongside my possessions from Canon.

One of the loaders, an earth pony, emerged from behind the humvee and trotted up to me. “I’ll take those for ya!” He insisted, removing my saddlebags and weapons and strapping them around his neck to be placed in our vehicle for the upcoming trip. “Nice to meetcha Rain, name’s Mango Smoothie!” He ended the sentence by shaking my hoof vigorously.

Although a little shaken, I returned his energy with a smile. “Likewise.” The pony looked to be about my age. He donned a very vivid yellow coat and a brown mane. Pounce slithered out from under me and returned his energy with a Pounce-sized dose of exuberant hoofshakes.

“Hi! Nice to meet you! My name is Pounce Scratch!” Her energetic hoof-shakes turned into tackling the poor colt to the ground. “You’re name’s Mango Smoothie? I like mangos and smoothies. You should let me drink you someti—”

“Pounce!” I said, briskly but assertively. “Get off of him.” She stood up off the terribly-shaken Mango.

“Oh, right, that’d be a good idea. A squished mango is never tasty.” She receded from him, flailing herself back to my side.

“Unhh...” mumbled Mango Smoothie as he picked his rattled self up off the ground and dusted himself off. “Nice to meetcha too, there, Pounce Scratch.”

He turned to me. “So, you’re that girl from the town out southeast, huh? Heard a lot about you. Too bad I didn’t see much of ya back at the base.” His gaze turned upward, as if reminiscing, and he scratched his chin with a forehoof. “Well, I’ll get out of your manes. Most of your stuff is loaded, so you’re all ready to go.”

The convoy of remnants that got us ready for the trip ahead with supplies and a vehicle waved to us as they disappeared over the horizon through the rear humvee window. I turned to face the front and slouched in my seat. I currently had my earbuds in, attempting to block out the world with rich, fluid sounds that calmed the soul. It felt like the only escape from the unruly, violent world we call home.

I gazed out the side of the passenger window at the sand that blanketed all of Equestria. Dead shrubs zoomed past the window as the humvee moved forward towards our destination. Mountains loomed in the distance. I thought about how the environment analogized with my own life.

We could be headed for a goal that will forever seem distant or even be a desert mirage; but whatever our goals are and will be, we’re going to keep chasing them. It’s a feeling I know of, and even though we don’t have many of our sights set now, challenges still await.

I foresee my friends coming and going out of sight quite like the landmarks and shrubs do outside of my window. Not something I want to see happen, as friendly people are going to be scarce out here. Not knowing why, I slouched in my seat even farther than I already had, and gave out an angry snort.

“What’s wrong, Rain?” Pounce said with a mouthful of sandwich from the seat opposite mine. I have no clue where she got the sandwich.

“Oh, nothing, just bored is all.” In fact, there were a couple things on my mind that did bother me somewhat.

Among them was the nightmare I had the night previous. To dream like that was just unnatural, and I’ve never had a dream like that before. It almost felt as if the skeleton mare spoke the truth. Most dreams I remember bits and pieces of, but this one remained clear to me. What had she meant by “possessing a gift”? “Unlocking potential”? It hadn’t made much sense to me. Even though it was a dream, it still bothered me. A robed skeleton talking to me about my potential on the “edge of reality” is unsettling.

Another thing I had been thinking about was the letter I found under the computer back at the Bandits’ hideout. There was something unnatural about the letter that’s making it feel wrong to read it. To attempt to figure out what it was, I grabbed it out of my bag and read it once again.

Mayor,

Yes, we know you need the money. We're trying to scrape up a couple bits as fast as we can to transfer them over to you, but we just don't have them. Please give us a little more time. Also, about your resident disappearance problem? I heard Crocodile's gang has been rousing up ponies from Ponyville and selling them off Celesta-knows-where. Damned bandits... You should “talk” to them.

Sincerely,

Drab

Red had been warned about the Ethershadow creatures, and he didn’t seem to worry about them. The idea of them was sinister, but I didn’t worry either, especially while being in an armored vehicle. However, something else bothered me. It must have been the writer’s attitude towards... bandits. It made me wonder whether or not the writer was one herself, and if we had done what we had actually intended to. The elements of the letter were unsettling.

“Red,” I said, breaking the silence. “Who were those ponies at the camp that we attacked?”

He casually exhaled, and said: “They were just a couple of ponies that were making a living, employed by the wrong people. They were all stationed at a Trading Company outpost.”

“But wouldn’t they be in uniform, or at least look the part?” I asked quizzically.

“Not necessarily,” Red said, while keeping his eyes on the dusty road ahead. “They didn’t need to be in uniform for the jobs they did. They were primarily scavengers, but they also kept watch on the area for the Company. They like to know what’s going on in as many areas as possible, and that’s why we’re going to be posted in Baltimare.”

I slouched in my seat even further. My face was now pressing against the window. I wanted to drift off to sleep for reasons already mentioned and to be able to pass the time. The earphones that I had in made the ride a bit more tolerable, and to have time to do nothing but think helped too. I wondered about all things: Baltimare, Industead, Canon, and everything in between. That was my world. I knew there was much more to see around my little piece of Equestria, but I did not know what lie beyond its borders. I didn’t even understand what lie within it, either. Deception and mystery are woven through these lands like barbed wire on a fence, sealing out the answers to my questions just as Industead had.

I managed to doze off with my head propped up on my hoof, against the window, and with a mind full of thoughts.

I awoke to the sound and was jostled by the impact of large metal structures clashing with one another.

My head rocked back and forth once and collided violently with the window that I had dozed off against. The sound of metal-on-metal was still ringing through my ears, and my head ached from hitting the inside of the humvee.

“What the hell, Red...?” I muttered loudly as I rubbed my scalp with a hoof. Pounce was still to my left, and clung onto the seat in a gleeful manner. Red had a calm, determined look on his face, but I could see some worry.

“Uh, look out the window, sleepyhead,” Red said as he jerked the steering wheel to the right, recreating the same sensation that woke me up.

CRASH!

Turning my gaze to the right, I could only see the side of a slate-colored vehicle for it stretched out to all four corners of my window. In the middle of the dark grey wall that plagued my window’s vision was a black tinted window. I made out a silhouette of a sinister-looking pony, right before it disappeared from the window. Shortly afterwards, a loud boom rocked the vehicle, the source of impact being the roof.

“Pounce, Rain, get up there and get ‘em off!” Red yelled while focusing and maintaining his eyes on the road ahead.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I said, worriedly. “I’m still waking up, man...”

“Just do it!” he roared above the sound of screeching metal, and the humvee shook violently and in a fury of sparks as the vehicle to our left rammed us into the wall on the left side of the road. We looked to be in a canyon pass, but the only thing to the right, just beyond our assailants, was open space. A cliff gave way, allowing just enough space for the road and a guard rail. Beyond that looked to be a drop. Couldn’t tell how far down yet, though.

After quickly fetching a pistol and knife out of my stuff, I popped open the sunroof carefully to take a look.

BAM!

Right in the face. I suffered a good bucking to the left cheek. I flew back to the front passenger’s seat, with part of me resting in Red’s lap as he drove. “What are you doing? Get back up there!”

“Red, if you weren’t the only thing keeping us alive right now, I’d kick the shit out of you.” grabbing my weapons once again, despite incredible pain and disorientation, I prepared for a skirmish. That changed when the body of my attacker flew onto the hood of our vehicle, and then out in front of it. The sound of a pony getting run over was mortifying.

“Good job, Pounce!” I called through the still-open sunroof. Okay, take two. I pulled myself up through the sunroof once again, this time uninterrupted. I turned my head to face the opposite vehicle. I prepared for a fight, for another one of our attackers were standing on top of it.

This time I was able to get a good look at their appearance. They wore a black, weathered business suit, complete with the jacket, tie, and armored plating on the shoulders and legs. This particular pony wore one of a set of greaves on the right foreleg. The left one had a black work-glove. As for the head, this pony had on a mask similar to Mare-Do-Well’s mask and a typical blackened wide-brimmed desperado hat.

These must be Company mercenaries of some sort.

After a short pause and analyzation of his appearance, the pony took the first strike. He made a mistake, missing an initial punch with his foreleg. Grabbing it, I attempted to haul him over the side of our humvee using my back. That plan quickly failed when the pony... dematerialized?

In the midst of my throw, my hooves were suddenly holding nothing. The pony turned into a black haze, and the particles of the ‘gas’ reformed behind me. After re-forming as a pony, my opponent grabbed me from behind and threw me on the opposite car.

What the hell?

I laid there for a moment, and caught the other pony by surprise by firing three rounds from my silenced pistol. The first two hit, but the last went straight through as the assassin turned into a mist around the third bullet. I could tell he was in serious pain when he hunched over and blood poured out from his chest. He tried to flee, but I landed a knife into his throat before he could do so. Ugh. What a mess.

I could finally get my thoughts together. I couldn’t do that the past few minutes, since I just recently woke up. I could finally pay attention to the breathtaking scenery of the canyon pass. The drop mentioned earlier was almost infinite—we were driving on top of a canyon. The environment rocked my world, for I had never seen anything like this. My world had been Industead ever since I could remember, and it’s all I had ever known. Now, I can see the world—for the price of my general well-being and health. Ever since I left, I’ve been shot and stabbed at. This canyon view was almost worth it.

I turned to the body of my attacker. I wanted to loot him of any information or anything valuable. His armor also appealed to me, but wasn’t very effective if you got hit in most places. Getting up closer, I realized that one of the patches of armor is actually a device of some sort. Well, it was a device. One of my pistol rounds went straight through it, letting bits of its circuitry hang out. I could not tell what its purpose was, but it contained a purple jewel that was about three-fourths used. Searching through the few items on him, all I managed to scrounge up was a couple of bits, a note, and a very thin-looking sword, one that could easily be hidden from plain sight. I had to take these things carefully and in record time, because I knew there would probably be more than just that one pony that would come up and attack.

It wasn’t another pony I should have had my attention on. Suddenly, the car jerked upward and to the side, kicking me off to the other car like a rodeo bull. I tried to scramble back onto my domain vehicle, but it was too late. The humvees were separated from one another by a fork in the canyon pass. I figured that eventually the roads would meet up and that our assassins would finish the job, but the vehicles didn’t meet up, even after two minutes. They just drifted apart more and more. The new path was at a lower elevation whereas our old route was at a greater one, and looked as though it drifted to the left. The roads were growing further apart. And here I was, away from my friends, on top of a Company humvee traveling around sixty miles an hour on some unknown road.

I wanted to go into panic mode, but I managed to compose myself. If I was going to get out of this dilemma, then I was going to need to focus. My initiative to focus was shot when I saw another black mist appear and condense into a pony before me.

Shit.

He or she—I can never tell the difference with these masked assassins—took the first swing with a bandaged foreleg. To my appreciation, it missed when I ducked out of the way, but the second foreleg came by surprise for my legs—this time the blow succeeded. I fell on my side, hitting the hot, dark body of the vehicle. My own body began to slide off the vehicle as the vehicle veered to the left. Panicked, I grabbed as best of a hold as I could obtain on the roof.

I thought of the hundreds of feet of open space below me as I dangled above it. I was truly above the drop that stunned me when I first stood on top of our humvee. One slip and I was dead. There was no sugarcoating it, no reassuring myself that I can get out of this, no telling myself that things will work. They won’t. I’m dangling on a humvee that is thousands of feet above the air and a bloodthirsty Company killer that wants me dead is directly above me.

I knew there was something I could do. Thinking like a survivor rather than the pessimist I grew up to be, I shifted some of my weight onto the rear-view mirror mounted on the side. When the dense metal hoof that I thought would decide my fate came crashing down, I moved my hoof—the intended target—and wrapped it around that same foreleg of my enemy and brought my weight back down on it.

With all of my might, I kicked the rear-view mirror free of its position. Astonishingly, it gave. Before the mirror could fall into the vast forest below, I grabbed it with my telekinesis and shot it with all the arcane force I could exert towards the head of my enemy. It hit with such force that it disoriented and staggered the pony, sending them a pace or two back. I needed I quick way to safety, so I took the same dislodged mirror and struck it through the window, giving me an entry point.

To my surprise, nopony was driving the car. It was on autopilot. Good. I used this opportunity to try and knock this pony off the car as they had tried to do the same to me. That would be the last of these Company attackers.

I took the wheel and jerked it back and forth, hitting both the canyon wall and the guard rail, on the left and right sides of the road respectively. This was a bad idea, considering it had ill effect on the masked marauder, who swung through the open window to give me a fierce blow with its hind legs while I was still in the driver’s seat.

After wincing and before I could properly defend myself, The pony positioned itself in the passenger’s seat and rammed my head into the steering wheel, violently shaking my brain. I used my forelegs to brace myself before it was rammed into the steering wheel a second time. However, I had bigger fish to fry... the car was swerving out of control and headed straight for the rail that lined the right side of the road; the only thing protecting us from certain death.

We both realized this and the pony stopped my cranial beatdown to try and escape the car, but it was too late. The humvee plowed through the rail and rocketed downward towards our inevitable doom. Through the destroyed windshield, the world outside the vehicle transformed from the cloudy, cyan skies that had taken my breath away when I took my first step outside of Industead to the vast woodland below: the sea of evergreen that would be my grave.

The other pony had used me to push off and fly through the open window. Its reason for doing so, I was not aware of. We were both pretty much dead, unless... it had a parachute. Thinking quickly but irrationally, I gripped its hind leg and flew out of the plummeting vehicle along with the Company attacker.

The pony tried kicking me off, but it had not worked. It wasn’t going to work. The last pony I would ever see wasn’t going to push me away like my peers of the past had. The Company has destroyed everything I ever cared about. They had ripped me from my friends, family, and destroyed the home and life I never had. Now, because of this special division of these bastards, I am falling nearly at terminal velocity towards my unavoidable death.

In a fit of oppressing anger and rage, I crawled up the black leathered-wrapped killer, and we met by constricting each others’ necks as we fell. The stronger pony began to dominate, which, of course, was not me. I was never dominating, just a subordinate tool to everyone, and I would die for it.

Consciousness was fading. The grip was getting tighter. There was some way I could save myself, some way I can continue life... and it lay within the pony’s waistband. In yet another futile last-ditch effort to save my own life, I reached my own forelegs up and broke the chokehold, and kicked the pony violently with a hind leg. I reversed our circumstances by pushing the pony back under me in my favor. Then saw how close we were getting to the ground. Panicking, I did the only thing I thought might work—I pressed the fearful cloaking device that had astounded me before and hugged onto the owner of it as tightly as possible while the device mysteriously whisked me away.

We dematerialized into a vapor just like the Company ponies had when they used the device. I maintained my eyesight even though the rest of my body existed as a gas, and to be weightless over a vast and beautiful expanse such as this was... simply stunning. It had been just so when I first laid my eyes upon it when I emerged from the humvee that was now miles away. It seemed I could control where the gas drifted, and I had the urge to reconstruct myself. Not yet, though.

There was another force tugging on me... it must have belonged to the other pony that was also involved in this transformation. However, it was clear to the both of us that we needed to head toward ground. I had a feeling I would be working with somepony in the near future and not be happy about it.

We made our descent to the ground, and hovered above it. I wasn’t sure how to control myself, as this was obviously a completely new experience. I felt supernatural and ghastly, just like I presumed how our attackers felt when they used the same device.

The gas we were impersonating came together, about to form back as a solid object. Sensing myself being rebuilt was undesirable. In other words, it stung quite a bit. Before we knew it, we were solid again. It took several seconds to recover my senses. I tried to move my left foreleg up to rub my eyes, but it was anchored for some reason. When I looked down to see what the problem was, I was astonished.

My left foreleg was conjoined with my attacker’s. I lifted it up, bent at the foreleg, and put it back down. I hyperventilated for a few seconds, but I needed to keep my cool. I was panicking with a pony that was probably about to turn around and slit my throat.

However, the pony refrained from doing so. When we recovered, we shot each other a glare and held it. It was hard to stare at eyes hidden behind a full mask. Instead, I stared into the visor-like eyes of the helmet itself... and saw my own.

What I saw was not something I ever expected to see, or wanted to see in myself. I witnessed the eyes of a determined Rain, a Rain of triumph. On the other hoof, I saw eyes of anger. Hatred. Destruction. Animosity. Things that dealt with the very reasons as to why I was here. I could blame neither the Company, Red, nor the pony standing before me. The only one I had to blame was... myself. Shifting perspectives again, the only reason I was standing here alive was me.

It wasn’t just my eyes themselves that were different about me. My own blood trickled heavily down my face. It showed my destructiveness and how reckless I was, as well as lack of concern for my own well being. It scared me.

Still, I searched for the eyes of the pony opposite. I wanted to know more about him or her, or whatever it was. I understood that the eyes were always the windows to the soul, but how could I see through the window to the eyes?

The pony seized the moment to take me down. I was thrown to the ground by my chest. The pony grabbed its rapier-like weapon and held it to my throat.

“I’ve been sent here to kill you.” A muffled but somewhat feminine voice said hatefully from behind the emotionless helmet. The fact that she was most likely a female made it almost comforting that she was straddling me.

“I had no idea,” I said, sarcastically. “Look, I hate you too. But if we’re going to get out of this mess, we’re going to have to work together for a little while.”

“But it is my duty—”

“If you kill me, you kill yourself. You’ll get picked clean by whatever is in these woods if you go by yourself, even with whatever training you may have. If we go together—which we’re forced to do—we can minimize the chance of that happening.” I telekinetically grabbed the foil of her weapon and to my expectancies I could bend it any direction I wanted it to. I chose to wrap it around her neck. It caught her with enough surprise that I was able to swap our positions: I was now on top of her.

“Okay, I get your point,” she grumbled from behind the mask. “Now get off, you freak.”

Walking under these huge... ‘trees’ was breathtaking. They were so tall, so still, yet so full of life, both physically and visually. Animals could be seen running all over its branches, on the ground, everywhere. They’d playfully walk up to us and greet us, then scurry away. It was, for lack of a better word, awesome. At some points, I would just stop and stare upwards dizzily and in awe. My Company companion would get angry and have to tug me along.

“C’mon, if we’re going to get anywhere at all, we have to use our hooves! “Hustle up!”

“Oh, sorry,” I apologized while in one of my trances, probably the third. I shifted my head towards the things that were chasing each other earlier. “It’s just that... ooh, what are those things?”

“You really have been living under a rock.”

“Yep, pretty much. Industead is a Company establishment, after all.”

She shot me a look, and I was not sure if it would be worse with or without the helmet on. “They’re called squirrels,” she said, somewhat condescendingly.

Her animosity towards me hadn’t phased me at all. I was rather used to it. My focus was to get unbound from her so that we may go our separate ways. However, that was obscured by the divinity of my surroundings. I couldn’t take my eyes and thoughts off of them.

Our route that we agreed to trot through had been very open. It allowed for a lot of space to move through and, of course, sightsee. Speaking of trotting and moving, it took us quite a while to work out how we would walk with a shared foreleg. By no means was it easy, but we worked out a musical system in which one of us—typically the Company mare—would hum a tune and we would both march to it, giving us synchronization. It has been working rather well so far.

Despite our success in walking, our destination was nowhere. Neither of us knew these woods, and I didn’t even know what woods were. We were drifting in the green mass of which I previously looked upon from the top of the canyon. I began to wonder what terrible luck somepony would need to have in order for that to happen. Oh wait, that would be mine.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud “Contact!” roared from my companion. She was suddenly at attention drew a pistol that I did not know she had, pointing it at some bushes.

“Contact?” I questioned, stupidly. “What does that mea—”

“You idiot! That means you need to draw your weapon, we have company!” She roared once again. I smothered my pistol with my telekinesis and drew it. I saw shapes of ponies that seemed to have markings on them, but I wasn’t sure what kind. I checked the ammunition in the pistol. Three shots. Hopefully that’s enough, because the only thing I have to fight with other than that was my knife. All of my other equipment and belongings were still in the humvee with Red and Pounce.

One of them lunged out of the bushes and into full view. What I saw was horrific. An off-white mare with a bedraggled, navy mane. Its coat was stained with streams of blood and bore fluorescently-colored patch armor. A single bone was woven in its mane, and its symmetricality with the rest of its body seemed to be the only thing organized about her. She clenched a dagger in her teeth and a gauntlet that was nowhere near as subtle as Pounce’s. However, probably the most unworldly thing about her... was her eyes.

They were not the eyes of a normal pony. They were... absent. They were bloodshot and empty. I’ve heard before that the eyes are the window to the soul. However, she seemed so... soulless. They caught me off guard. They overpowered me. The constricted me. I wanted to fall to the ground and let her kill me, to end this horrible journey.

The murderous excuse of a pony lunged at me, taking her eyes off mine and locking them on my throat. I was not ready.

To my surprise, my companion’s hind leg protruded out in front of me, performing an extremely forceful buck to the chest of my attacker. I felt some of her blood trickle onto my face on impact. She tumbled backward and was done for.

They must have seen my companion as a greater threat, so three more of these psychopaths came lunging out of the bush directed toward her. Thinking quickly and protectively, I unloaded three rounds in total, one for each of their heads, before they could get too close for comfort.

She jerked her head to allow her stoic mask to stare me down. I knew she was surprised, and secretly grateful.

“I’m more competent than you think. And don’t mention it. Ever.” Upon saying this, I threw my emptied pistol off into the verdant scenery. “Who, or what, are these creeps, anyways?”

“No idea,” she said, with more of a calm and focused tone than my own. “Probably a bunch of cannibals.”

This made my heart sink. The idea of these ponies being cannibals worried me sick, and I couldn’t run away. Focus level: “Panic” was imminent. I thought perhaps my Sleep Shot spell would be somewhat useful, but it only focused on one pony at a time, and wouldn’t affect them much. Not only this, but I had no experience with the spell whatsoever. I decided not to risk it. Instead, I used my magic to grab the knife and waited for our next attacker. It sure was a good thing that none of them had firearms of any kind.

I only made out about two or three figures in the plant life, but they receded. We stood there in a defensive position for a while to be sure, but the time during was uneventful. Finally, we could relax.

The sun was setting, and with startling speed... The forest was not somewhere I wanted to be at night, and my companion seconded the notion.

We spotted a nearby tree with two branches that were parallel to each other and neither too far off the ground nor too close. Getting up was a tribulation in itself, and I had to strain myself to have enough arcane output to take some of the weight off of our bodies as we climbed. We nestled ourselves onto the tree’s branches.

I looked to the sky, the same multi-chromatically-colored quilt woven by Celestia herself that I had looked up at during my time in Industead, Ponyville, and Canon. I always knew that no matter where I was, I would always be gazing up at the same sky that my friends are. And that was comforting enough for me.

Nightfall.

I relaxed and savored the moment. I was sore, and had only fifty-percent control over my left foreleg, but things were okay now. My Company companion hadn’t killed me yet, and the cannibals hadn’t ripped my throat out.

I continued to feast my eyes upon the soft, bright sky of Equestria. It was a clear night, but the treetops obscured my vision. We listened to the sound of various animals and insects executing their nightly routines. It was comforting. I had a ridiculous urge to navigate the webs of branches that made up the treetops and introduce myself to all the new species I was not aware of. I chuckled a little as I thought of myself saying: “Hello, Mr. Blue Jay. My name is Rain!”

A tinny, artificial voice broke my thoughts. “Thanks,” my companion said.

“For what?” I replied, turning to face her—or her mask, rather.

I could detect a soft reluctance behind her voice. “Saving me. I mean us. Yeah. You know, being a team player and all that.” She turned her head to the left, somewhat away from me, just enough that I could not see the reflective lenses on her helmet.

“Um. Sure.”

“Yeah. Well, need to get some shut-eye.” She said, facing directly upwards once again. She folded her left foreleg over her chest.

“I agree. ‘Night.”

I didn’t get a response.

<========= o—o—o—0—0—0—O—O—O—O—0—0—0—o—o—o =========>

The skeleton mare stepped literally out of nothing, and into view. She wore the same attire as our last meeting.

“I do not believe a formal introduction is necessary.” The mare’s voice reverberated familiarly in the darkness.

“I agree,” my non-existent body uttered. “What have you called me here to discuss?”

“Ah, so good to see you more personable and refined in your speech. I have come to point you in the right direction. I am surprised to see you traveling while fused to an assassin belonging Ironpony Trading Company.”

“Yes, it is an odd turn of events,” I said. My words echoed very similarly to the skeleton mare’s. “What direction would you be pointing me in?”

“There is a tribal village west of your location. Where you gaze upon the sunset is where you shall go.” The mare stopped to look in the distance. “There, you will find a kind man who can help you with your predicament. He can also assist in numerous other ways.”

“Other ways?”

“You’ll see.” The skeleton turned its stare towards me. It felt like she was extracting my soul with her empty eye sockets.

“I do not feel like a formal closing is necessary either.”

<========= o—o—o—0—0—0—O—O—O—O—0—0—0—o—o—o =========>

I did not rouse as peacefully as I drifted off.

I awoke dazed, confused, and scared, as if recovering from a nightmare. My head shot up in that fashion, and I found myself hyperventilating. I turned to my companion, who was whittling a piece of wood with her knife, and had one hind leg crossed over the other. She was evidently far more relaxed than I was.

“Bad dream?” She replicated my thoughts exactly.

“Uh. Kind of, but not really.” My ability to speak in the morning really does suck. “We need to go west from here,” I said, throwing my hoof in the opposite direction of the rising sun, which was to my right. I know now that dreams like those are not dreams.

“How do you figure?” she asked flatly. I blinked at her.

“We just do. There’s a village in that direction that should be able to help us. Let’s go.”

“Again. How do you figure?”

“Oh, just trust me. I can’t explain it.”

We methodically climbed back down the tree, undoing all of our steps to get up in the first place. That is, until halfway down, where we just agreed to leap down the rest of the way. Sadly, the canopy of the forest wasn’t dense or sturdy enough to navigate on top of. Otherwise, we would be taking a much safer route.

It was evident that she still had not trusted me, and with good reason. For all she knew, I was some crazy pony moving into the heart of danger, and trying to bring her with me. Then again, if the Company knew enough about me to find me as a threat, I would think she would know just as much. I believe she may have at least a glimmer of trust in my abilities.

We had pushed into dense greenery for what felt like the better part of an hour. Our legs grew tired, especially with one of each of ours being bound into one.

Finally, I had a reason to stop that didn’t sound like complaining.

“Ssh,” I say to my companion. “Listen, I think I hear something.”

I crouch low to the ground, and my companion follows suit. My ears sorted through the sounds of birds and crickets, and picked out the sound of... voices. Calm ones. Ones that weren’t shouting and trying to brutalize somepony.

“Do you hear that?” I said, turning to her.

Her ominous-looking helmet leaned towards me, but locked its gaze straight ahead. Her voice dropped to a tinny whisper. “Yeah, I hear it. My sensors are picking up friendlies.”

Her helmet can do that? Track ponies? That’s... scary. I assumed “friendlies” meant “those that didn’t want to eat me”. That was good enough.

We nodded to each other and moved forward through the brush, being sure to keep as silent as possible. By now, we had movement down to a science. We had definitely gotten attuned to each other quite well, and trotting was a breeze.

We approached a point where speckles of light could be seen through a thick wall of brush, and my hoof brushed it aside to get a better look.

My heart filled with warmth and hope at the sight I saw before me. A whole village of friendly tribal-looking ponies, roaming about and eating breakfast around a doused fire pit.

I smiled brightly and wanted with all my heart to trot forward and introduce myself to the new community. However, our hoof was anchored in place, and would not budge.

“C’mon,” I nudged. “We need their help if we plan on getting back to normal.”

“Not a chance.” My companion protestingly stomped her only independent hoof. “It’s already weird enough you knew this place was here, but I refuse to deal with primitive tribals.”

“We have to. Or we’ll die out here. It’s either these tribals or the ones that want to eat us.”

“No. My standards are higher. I refuse their help even if it were given to me on a silver platter.”

“Damn you governmental types,” I said, angrily. “You all need a reality check.”

“It is you that needs a reality check. You think bandits like yourself live long enough to escape the Ironpony Trading Co.? Not likely.”

“Get a grip. The Company is just a group of selfish egomaniacs,” I said, cockily. How dare her?

Our voices must’ve gotten louder than we intended them to, because to our surprise, the brush opened up to reveal a strong-looking pony in tribal tattoos. He loomed over us as he spoke. “Um,” he started, sounding confused. “You must be two of them Traders!”

“Uh, no!” I said, loudly.”

“Yes,” she said.

“We have a little bit of explaining to do, I suppose,” I said, sheepishly. I gave a matching grin, and tried to look as friendly as I possibly could, sitting there pathetically in the bushes next to a Company assassin. From what I perceived, we looked like spies.

Homeland Oracle: Chapter 8

I heard the door to our shack creak open, allowing an array of dim light to outstretch itself and a shadow of a stallion on the floor before it. A single step produced a second creak in the small room.

I sat up on my cot, wondering who might be at the door. I wondered, but did not dare ask, or even move. I sat there, frozen, my eyes locked on the front door of our home. Who was this stranger, and why was he here?

The shadow crawled further in through the doorway, and merged itself with the darkness. The door closed. Silence.

Suddenly, I heard the striking of the match. Two strikes later, the match lit, but I could not tell who our visitor was even still. It shone faintly against metal plating on the figure, presumably armor.

The flame of the match floated away from him in the darkness, and shone faintly against a candle before touching its wick. The room was more visible now.

The room was our home. I pulled the covers up and looked at the visitor in cowering fear. He wore leather with metal armor plating, and stood tall in our humble shack. However, the fear was in vain and unnecessary. It was Dad.

“Daddy!” I yelled and jumped out of bed to give him the biggest bear hug a filly could give a pony. “I missed you so much!”

“Hey-hey, sweetheart!” He wrapped a dusty foreleg around me. My mother, now a pregnant mare, carefully got out of bed to greet my father with a kiss and a hug.

“Hey, I want one too!” I demanded.

My father picked me up and placed me in my bed, and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Goodnight, Rain-drop. When you get up tomorrow morning, I’ve got a present for you. But you gotta wake up before I head off to work!”

“Yay! Thanks! I’ll be up, Dad.”

“Okay. Goodnight, for real.” He telekinetically pulled the covers of my bed back over me. The glow of his magic came off the blanket and materialized into the shape of a spider. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

The spider shape began to tickle my stomach, and it forced an uncontrollable laugh to explode from my mouth. “Stop, Dad!”

“Sleet!” My mother hissed. “You don’t want to wake up the neighbors, do you?”

“No, you’re right. Sorry, honey,” my father apologized. He trotted over to their shared cot and slipped in. “Goodnight, Rain, see you in the morning.” His magic enveloped the candle and the flame went out. Darkness again.

- - -x-x-x- - - -

“Why have you come here?” was the question we were asked when we were presented to the chief. The answer was a bag of confusion. There was no real reason we ended up here in this particular location other than either our luck in direction, or our lack thereof. The next few minutes might decide which of these it was.

We were in a room exhibiting a culture of which I haven’t seen before. The center of the room was a bearskin rug, which struck me as odd. Behind the rug were guards, one male and one female, dressed in face paint and straps, which held weapons. Their face paint schemes were identical. Behind the rug and guards was a fireplace, with food cooking inside. A pot could also be seen. In front of the rug was us, sitting on pillows on the floor. The chief was sitting in front of us on the bearskin rug.

What struck me particularly as odd was a giant wooden pole with faces of animals carved in it. It was expertly done, but in a style that was new to me.

“We need your help,” My companion and I stated simultaneously. We looked at each other. I gave her a smirk.

“Yes, yes, I see this,” the chief said, rubbing his chin with a forehoof. He picked up a bottle of an ugly green liquid and took a sip. “What I mean is, why have you come here? There are many other places to solve your dilemma, but with what reason did you have to come to an isolated village in the middle of a remote forest?”

“Well, you see, this mare here—” My companion spit out, while pointing at me.

“Silence! ‘That mare there’ is a pure genius. You think I am unaware that you’re a Company assassin? I know what you ponies do. I know why you’re fused together, and I know why both of you tumbled off the road beating each other to a pulp. The only reason I don’t have you executed right now is because you’re fused with someone that wouldn’t put a bullet in my brain otherwise.”

“Harumph,” my companion snorted.

I rolled my eyes at her and stuck out our foreleg in front of us. “So how do we fix this?”

The chief sighed before informing us. “You’re going to need either a skilled unicorn or an alchemist to create it for you. Luckily, I am the latter. I can create a potion for you to be able to fix your dilemma. However, you’re going to need ingredients.”

We looked at each other. “So... how do we get these ingredients?”

He told us that we were going to have to do some things for him first. The first of which was that we needed to fetch the main ingredient for it from the woods. This ingredient is actually a flower called Blue Joke, according to him, and that we should never touch it. “It may seem beautiful to the eye,” he said, “but not to the body.” He instructed that I was to carry it using my magic to avoid coming into physical contact with it. He didn’t tell us why.

The chief also presented another issue. He informed me of a growing problem of attacks from the psychopaths—which he referred to as the Deranged—in the woods that has kept the village from foraging properly or without the loss of residents. They’ve barely been able to hold off their raids. The only thing he asked of us was to find out what happened to three of the village residents named Roaring Flare, and Scarlet Rose. These two ponies went foraging the day before, but haven’t returned. Due to his situation, he hasn’t sent anyone except his dearest friend and co-chief of the tribe, whom he refers to as Cirrus. He had not returned, let alone giving the chief any news. He was the third one.

“You two have obviously learned to work together to some degree,” he admitted. “You did make it through the forest not only alive, but in one piece. You may be the only ones in this village that perform such a task by yourselves.”

“You realize this might be suicide, correct?” my companion asked. Well, if she had one solid piece of information to put on the table this whole day, it would be that. “We’re throwing ourselves into the fire, here.”

“Yes, you are.” He said, sounding understanding, closing his eyes. “But you did the same when you tackled your blue companion off a cliff, eh?” he turned his head again to face her with a lazy smile.

His voice suddenly became less cheerful, and his glare turned toward the bearskin rug. “Listen. We’re in trouble. We’re fighting a war of attrition with Deranged. My friends are out there, and they need your help just as much as the whole village does. I’m asking you not out of a business proposition but as their only method of survival. The only thing I gain from this arrangement is to see my friends alive and happy again.”

I found myself looking at the floor as well. I thought of myself when he spoke just then. He just wanted to see his friends again.

“So...” I hadn’t regarded him talking much until now. I mainly thought about what he said more than listened to it. “Shall I get you gear?”

As it would turn out, we didn’t have much of a choice. Our only way of safely getting out of this predicament was to enlist the tribe’s help, and we were lucky to have that, let alone be alive.

The chief, who finally introduced himself as Kind Wind, did indeed prove to be kind. We saw this trait through his care for the tribe, and how he didn’t see them as followers or subjects. He knew of them as friends. It was not a form of leadership I was used to, but it was more than effective.

We walked through the village, and the sights and smells of the new culture intrigued me. The houses weren’t really buildings at all. They were huts made of a material called sod and topped with dried grass roofs. Back home, everything was made of stone or metal and very structural and dirty. Ironically, though, these buildings made of sod and grass were extraordinarily well-kept.

The cooking—not that I have seen much of this before—was done over an open flame. The food were generally squirrels and other creatures I was not used to seeing, which had a stick through them and supported above the flame. We trotted past two of these on our walk.

Kind Wind was leading us to a particular hut, though. Upon walking inside—which proved to be very difficult since we were attached—we noticed the hut had felt more spacious than it looked from the outside. Guns and weapons lined the walls, and at the opposite end of the hut sat a counter with a cash register sitting on top. Behind the counter, was a stallion with a grey coat and a spiky, dark blue mane. He forced his eyes open as we came in, probably waking up from a nap.

“Hey Weld, these are the newcomers the guards pulled in. Good news, they’re not Deranged,” Kind Wind said, as he introduced us.

The stallion gave a large yawn and a stretch before introducing himself. “Ah, ey, new amigos. Name’s Welded Steel,” the grey stallion said, in a slight accent that I’ve never heard before. “Pleasure to meetcha, please, come in, come in.”

We take some steps inward, and browsed the walls. I could tell just by the way the firearms looked that they weren’t loaded, so no customers could pull anything funny. Smart idea. “This is Rain,” Kind Wind said and pointed a hoof at me, “and this is...?”

My name had come up in conversation, but my companion’s did not. “My name is not important,” she said, flatly.

Weld’s eyes became huge in surprise, and he quickly picked up a pistol from behind the counter with his mouth and aimed it at her. “Uh, why is dat thing here?”

We raised our hoof.

“Oh,” Welded Steel said, somehow understanding our dilemma and putting the gun back in its place behind the counter. “Haven’t seen that in a good while.”

“You’ve seen this type of thing happen before?” I couldn’t help but to ask.

“Yeah, when—”

“Weld,” the chief interrupted. “Not now.”

“Oh, right.” Welded Steel walked from behind the counter to stand next to the rack on the left side. This rack seemed to contain simpler firearms. “Well, what’ll they have, chiefie?

“They just need something simple, preferably one magazine each. we don’t have much to give them,” he said, raising a hoof in front of him, as if holding something in it. “Perhaps a pistol, or something like it.”

“Right. Dis way, amigos.”

“You know, you could be a little bit more personable,” I said to my companion. We trekked through the woods on a rough trail. Supposedly, the tribe members took this path to forage. Welded Steel accompanied the two of us.

“I could,” she said, in her tinny, muffled voice. “I just prefer not to deal with tribals.”

“What, are we some kinda race?” Welded Steel countered, sounding offended.

“No,” she denied while turning her head slightly to face him, “I just prefer not to deal with you.”

“I’m not gonna stand here an’ be—”

“Okay, enough,” I interjected. “I think I hear something. I need you both to be quiet and cooperate.”

“I am picking up movement in front,” muttered the masked assassin. I seriously need to learn her name. “Get down.”

The three of us crouched behind a nearby log. I can’t say I was sure what to expect, even though we had just encountered Deranged some time ago.

“Yes, definitely movement. Just one coming down the trail,” she informed us. I poked my head around the log to face the trail. I saw one Deranged, sniffing around, alternating to different sides of the trail as she made her way near us. She stopped, grunted, and looked in our direction.

Doing my best to avoid noise, I casted my Drowsiness spell to make her less aware and nullify her senses.

It worked a little bit too well, and she fell to the ground with little noise. I theorized she must have been susceptible to it due to drugs.

The assassin turned her head to face me, still remaining crouched behind the log. “Well done.”

“Jeez. You can do dat, amigo?” The weapons expert sat up from behind the log as he said this.

“It wasn’t supposed to knock her out,” I said, sounding surprised that it had done just that. “Just make her a little unaware of her surroundings. I think she was intoxicated.”

“I’ll say. She fell on the ground like a doll without joints,” Welded said as he walked from behind me to check the body.

“Good work, kid. We can pass without making too much noise.” The assassin got up as well, and turned around to sit on the log.

I walked over to see the unconscious body. “Woah, look at these babies,” Welded said, surprised. He shifted her muzzle to show her teeth, which were strangely sharp. She was pretty gnarly and grotesque in appearance as well. Like the others we encountered, she had a long, scraggly and bedraggled mane, infused with bits of blood in several places. Another thing that was unsettling was an extremely odd cutie mark. It was of a symbol rather than an object or activity. It featured three curved lines, and a single straight line in the center; two curved on the sides, with the bends facing each other, and one on top, facing the center of the three lines. The one straight line extended from the center downward. Blood matted parts of her coat.

Another thing that stood out to me was her crude, nonetheless deadly weapon: A large bit of sharpened scrap metal fastened to her foreleg and jutted outwards. Dried blood could be seen on it. We direly hoped it was not those of Kind Wind’s and Welded Steel’s friends.

We moved on, looking for traces of the tribe’s lost members. We did our best to keep a low profile, and expected the worst. I wasn’t sure what would happen or what we would find of the ponies we were looking for—we were trotting into the heart of deranged territory.

I began to wonder if Deranged could use firearms. If they could fabricate their own melee weapons, could they use a firearm properly? I noticed many of the tribe were Earth ponies, which meant they most likely used Ironpony firearms. Ironpony guns are those that are made specifically to be operated with one’s hooves or mouth. The Company created this brand to be able to sell in large shipments to all of Equestria, and to reinstate their idea of superiority of Earth ponykind.

As we walked, my mind drifted from our path. It thought way beyond current events now. What was Baltimare like, and how was I going to get there? Was my mysterious companion going to come with me? What other types of environments are in Equestria? I was brainwashed growing up, about what the world was, and how it should be run. What was Equestria really like?

Thoughts ended and I became attentive when Welded Steel pointed something that deviated from the trail. It looked to be a small, brown shack. I figured maybe that this was constructed by the tribe, but wasn’t sure. I asked him about it.

“I dunno,” he responded, while shrugging. “I’m not really from around here. But I don’t recall dat shack being constructed or mentioned.”

“Let’s check it. Lay low, we’re heading into brush,” said my unnamed cohort. I really wish I could tag her with a name.

We made our way off the trail, not without the uneasy feelings of course. I moved forward, synchronized with my partner while tall blades of plants brush my legs and torso.

The shack had the eeriest feeling to it; it reminded me of home. It wasn’t as large as our place in Industead, but it still brought me back there. After being through what I’ve been through, I’ve missed it, yet not at all.

The two of us stretched our heads out from our conjoined bodies to peer into the shack. It was terribly lacking: It contained only a table in the center of the room. Blood was sickeningly splatted on the table and along the opposite wall, closer to the right. A putrid stench hung in the hair.

We heard heavy breathing from inside the shack, but could see nopony inside. We surprisingly managed to squirm our integrated body into the shack to investigate. In the right corner previously invisible to us was a pony hunched over, covered in blood and malnourished. He watched us with huge, bloodshot eyes, but uttered nothing.

“Scarlet!” Welded exclaimed, “what happened? Let’s get you back to camp—”

“No,” she uttered quietly. “It’s not worth it. The pain. It’s too great—”

“Don’t say that, I don’t know what happened, but our alchemists and medics can make you better—”

I hadn’t noticed she was a unicorn. Her bloody horn glowed a faint red, and for a second I hadn’t known why. Her shuddering didn’t change, but her eyes did—they looked towards my holstered pistol. I felt the firearm slip out of the holster, and tried to wrap my own magic around it to regain control of it. However, her grasp was much stronger. It felt angry... and hostile.

My companion had the same thought I had. She was hostile. The gun was going to fire at us... end us. She drew her rapier, ready to slice, when the gunshot went off.

Scarlet had killed herself.

I spent the next few hours at camp consoling Welded Steel. Scarlet Rose had been a dear friend of his for years.

Losing people to their own psyche is a thing I can definitely relate to. Pounce Scratch. However, she had not been killed. Half of her was still there with me. But Welded Steel lost her completely. He saw her kill herself. We hadn’t known why she had done so, but we theorized that the Deranged had corrupted her somehow, and that she was in the process of turning into one of them. It’s the closest thing we had to a reason.

On a lighter note, good news returned that one of the other missing ponies, Roaring Flare, had come back. Her story was that the Deranged were actually somewhat organized, and had her captive. They communicated with each other and tested things on her. She warned them to watch out for any strange behavior from herself, as one of the tests had involved having fluid injected into her. She wasn’t sure what it was.

My companion wasn’t too thrilled with me forcing her to sit in Steel’s shop while I consoled him. I’ve grown used to her heartlessness, but she’s become more attuned to my stubbornness. I dragged her behind his counter so I could be there for him. I told him how I could somewhat relate, and that getting here has been no cakewalk. Made him feel a little better, but there had been emotional distress that could not be reasoned with.

And then there was the cry. “Deranged!” erupted a voice from outside, and that’s when it hit the fan.

He leaped over the counter from under my arm and ran to the gun rack, furiously looking for something to use. He made a selection of something compact and bolted out the hut, muttering unrecognizable things in frustration and anguish.

“Steel!” I called out after him. My companion lagged behind and failed to synchronize her steps with mine properly. I wasn’t sure at the moment if she was being lazy or I was freaking out, but nonetheless we hobbled out of the tent.

I saw and heard steel fire blindly into the forest after a bloody pony receded back into it, as if luring him. He took the bait and dashed out into the forest, yelling: “I’m going to kill you! All of you! You hear me?!”

Oh, Celestia.

I panicked and turned towards my masked ball-and-chain. “C’mon, we’re going after him! He needs our—”

“Right.” I wasn’t sure if her response was sarcastic or she was actually agreeing with me, but I didn’t have time to be surprised. We threw ourselves out of the hut, and synchronized our legs to run full speed to the forest, following Steel. We seemed to ignore the warnings of the villagers as we ran by, but we heard and understood them completely.One thing was for sure, though, I wasn’t about to let someone become a victim of their own anguish. I knew this was a bad idea, but I wasn’t sure why my companion decided to cooperate.

We broke through the membrane of brush that protected the edge of the forest, and fell on our faces after our forelegs struck a downed branch. We looked ahead of us. Through the twigs and leaves, I saw the grey body of Welded Steel run off into the distance, chasing something we knew he couldn’t catch.

His anger and sorrow will destroy him.

We pushed ourselves up, deciding whether or not to go after him. My better judgment rejected the idea, but my morals disagreed. My companion and I shook our heads at each other, and turned around to return to the village

shuk!

I felt my integrated partner go limp, dragging her weight down against me. I struggled to pick her back up, confused and worried. I turned over my shoulder, to understand what was going on.

A small dart had punctured the suit of my companion, and stuck out of her rump. She fought to stay on her hooves as well, but it was futile. In seconds, she had passed out.

shuk!

Waking to the smell of burning is never pleasant. Especially if the burning is coming from your companion.

That was the worst wake-up call I have ever received. I twisted my head to investigate. Deranged were everywhere, surrounding us in a thicker density than at the village. Some had smirks. Others were cackling. Some were licking their lips, as if hungry.

We were over a fire, strapped to a stick like a rotisserie chicken. I only question why we weren’t skewered.

The flame had come up to lick my companion, but it did not catch. I had to act fast if we were going to get out of this. Against my instinct, I didn’t panic, but I thought it through for a small moment while I nudged her to get up.

After a small moment of coming to her senses, she let out a girlish squeal, of which shook my eardrums. The only response the deranged gave to her pure fright was laughter. I understood my companion’s predicament, but I really didn’t expect her to scream as she did. She seemed too quiet for that.

“Rain!” she said, “Do something! Please! I don’t want to end up like my brother!”

I needed to act fast, and now. I analyzed my surroundings in a single glance. A pony bent down to blow on the coals of the fire, and it rose a bit. He was unarmed. Two ponies watched, both were armed with sharp fore-hoof mounted blades. Another pony came out of a tent behind them with some gasoline. “Work with me,” I uttered.

I telekinetically felt the area around my companion’s neck, but gently. I felt the rapier that she once unsheathed in our battle in the past, and I grasped it. I focused on a horizontal slash at the throats of two of the deranged, and made it happen. The pony blowing the coals suffered a harsher fate: my knife magically thrown into his head from its holster. The pony holding the gas dropped the jug, spilling its contents all over the ground. He turned and sprinted the other way in fright, as if going to get help.

Then I got an idea. The seemingly useless spell I learned about air manipulation would actually come in handy. It was difficult and took about fifteen seconds and a lot of straining, but I managed to focus on the air around the fire. A few more seconds later, I limited the oxygen supply of the fire enough to allow it to die out. I then cut the rope that supported us above the camp-sized fire, being careful not to hit the hot coals. That doesn’t mean we landed softly, however.

We stopped and thought for a moment. There were enough tents around us for this place to be the heart of their “operations”, so why not see if we could find Kind Wind’s last friend. More than likely, he was here. I couldn’t imagine him to have ended up anywhere else. I’m assuming that Welded ended up somewhere similar, unless he gunned himself out of trouble.

“Here’s the plan, we clear this camp, and see if we can find Welded and Cirrus,” I declared to my companion.

I had been attached to her for long enough to have an idea as to what she was feeling. She felt weak. Her side of our foreleg felt as though it was about to give out, and let her body fall to the ground. It was a strange feeling coming from her. She nodded jerkily.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Let’s just get this done.”

I was smart to levitate the knife and her rapier to take them out as opposed to using our firearms, as that gave us more time since it made much less noise. First, we checked the tent that the gasoline-carrier came out of. It was only storage, as we thought. Little of interest was here: containers of old knives, gas cans, bones, scissors, lighters, things of that sort. A box in the corner of the room held a random assortment of objects. I peered inside.

The contents were dirty, as if aged, and contained mostly knick knacks and bags, stuff I suppose the Deranged didn’t find useful. These ponies were more organized than they looked.

On top of the items stuffed in the box, I found a photograph partly burned and torn. I levitated it up, so that the rays of light shining through holes in the tent would allow me to see it better. It was of a tribal chief—it looked to be a younger rendition of Kind Wind—and a creature I’ve never seen before. They were both posing for the photograph next to each other, the creature on two of its legs. They were smiling. They were friends.

“What is this thing?” I asked my companion.

She looked at me, with those reflective, stoic lenses. Her unbound foreleg came up, and she looked at it for a brief moment. Then, without warning, she fell over.

“Hey, get up, we have to go!” I commanded worriedly and in a loud whisper. She didn’t move.

I looked out the tent opening, and saw a Deranged holding something dark grey with his teeth, around fifteen meters from the opening of the tent.

That’s when hell broke loose.

The stallion’s mouth erupted into a spray of bullets, tearing apart the tent. Before I could get low enough, one of the bullets grazed my flank. It was still sensitive even after its recovery, so the grazing stung like crazy.

I threw one of the jugs of gasoline out the gaping flaps in the side tent, away from the spray. I didn’t want an exploding, flaming jug of gas on our hooves.

The spray stopped. Sounded as if he were reloading. How’d the hell did they figure out how to use a gun?

I took a lighter with my magic. I struck it twice, revealing its constant flame. I levitated it the fifteen meters of distance that separated us from the Deranged stallion, and I shoved the lighter into the ground at his hooves.

The ground below him erupted in flames, consuming him and producing a horrible fury of screams and agony. He was standing on the gasoline that was dropped earlier.

I knew more would come, so I had to figure out what to do next. Her weight tugging on our shared foreleg felt extremely uncomfortable and somewhat painful. This meant that dragging her would hurt pretty badly. I can half-levitate her with my magic, but I don’t have that much power. I decided to sling her over my shoulder and just walk with one foreleg. I would be horribly off balance, but it will work. Maybe.

Before leaving the tent, I sat down and let my mind go back to the photo. I lifted it up to look at it. What was this bird-like creature standing next to the chief?

I picked ourselves up, and took the photo with me before hobbling out of the tent, but I made sure that the coast was clear before doing so. I drew a pistol with my magic and held it out in front of me while I made it to a much larger tent. On the side of it, crude lettering read: “JALE”. That’s most likely a Deranged way of spelling “Jail”.

Noise and laughter was coming from within the tent. A shrill, psychotic mare’s voice came from within the tent. “Ha!, I bet dey burned reaaal nice!”

Cliche for a psychopath, I thought. I adjusted the deadweight more comfortably on my shoulder, and creeped up next to the tent. My eyes scanned the side of it, finding a hole to peek through.

I couldn’t see much inside, but I made out a cage in a darker corner of the tent, and two Deranged ponies in front of it, looking into the cage. They were blocking my view into the contents of the cage, which was about their height, enough room for a pony to stand up and turn around in. They were facing the inside of the cage, looking more towards the bottom of it.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t see, but we’ve seen our fair share of tor—”

BLAM!

My gun was pointed through the hole of the tent, and aimed at their brains. Hooray for bullets.

Now that the tent had been purged of murderous scum, I cautiously trotted through the opening of the tent. What immediately caught my eye was the captive in the cage. It was the creature from the photograph.

She looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. Traumatization had been all over her face, but did not nearly take as much of a toll on her than it did Scarlet Rose.

“W—Who are you?” she stuttered.

“The girl without enough hooves,” I said, telekinetically searching the messes I made for a key of some sort. To no avail, I sifted through nearly all of the boxes and bags in the tent, subconsciously throwing each to the side when I finished. She looked at me strangely. When I turned to the side, the creature’s face turned to stone in fright.

“Is that…?” she uttered while pointed at my companion. “Is that Company—”

“Yeah. No time to explain. She’s unconscious and attached to me, and completely harmless. That’s all that matters to you right now.” I threw more containers to the side.

“If you’re here to rescue me, just know that I’m not going with a Comp—”

“Look, I’m not company, and I’m here to help you. I know Kind Wind.” I gave her the picture. “He sent us to get you.”

“Who are you guys? I haven’t seen you around the village before.”

“Just two ponies in a predicament. But right now we can’t explain, considering she’s out cold and we have to get you out of here, now.” My voice got more and more tense, and more containers flew. The tent looked like an explosion went off inside it, sending everything in a different direction.

“You’re looking for the key, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“They swallowed it.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, frustratedly. “Why the hell would they swallow the key? To torture her? That’s sick!”

“Tell me about it. I thought I was going to die here.”

I remembered a pair of hedge trimmers I found while rummaging through the shelves in here. I think they would do for this.The bars on the cage seemed thin enough.

“Back up, and hold still.” I opened the trimmers, and slid them into the cage in a way that the bars supporting the lock were between the two blades. All the telekinetic power I could dish out, even at the maximum possible leverage, wasn’t enough to slice it.

The creature stuck out her talons to grasp the handle with me, being careful not to be in a position to accidentally cut herself. “One, two, three!”

Shrik!

Our combined pressure sliced the bar. But we needed to do another cut further down to get the lock off and open the cage. I had no energy to do that. All I wanted to do at this point was sleep.

“Amigo!” a voice from behind me called out. I turned to see that it was Welded Steel, standing in the opening of the tent, surprised to see the creature and me. “Cirrus!”

“Weld, get over here and help me cut this this thing!”

I moved out of the way and sat on some of the cardboard boxes. I needed to carefully think about the plans next. “Weld, is the coast clear?”

“Yeah,” he said, while grunting to cut the bar.

Shrik!

I slowly came to my senses on top of a mat, sitting on the floor of a place I found familiar.

The chief’s tent.

I had grown accustomed to the extra weight on my foreleg, but as I stretched, the mass of my companion simply wasn’t there. Confused, I turned to my left, only to see that she wasn’t there. I lifted my previously constrained foreleg and moved it around freely, staring at it in awe.

“Haha! Yes!” I exclaimed, probably loud enough for the whole village to hear. Having the freedom once again of controlling my own foreleg felt amazing, and I had missed it so much.

I was too excited to rest any more, even though I probably needed to. I stood up and exited the neglected-looking room to figure out how the hell I got back to the village.

I threw open the tarp that served as a door to the entrance of the room, ducking to move through it. I found myself in the main section of Kind Wind’s tent, where we had our meeting with him when we first arrived This time, I was on the other side of the bearskin rug, and the light from the open flap of the tent was blinding. I raised my now free forehoof to block the light and nearly smacked myself in the face. I needed to get accustomed to the lack of weight.

I was surprised to find no one else was here, not even Kind Wind. The last thing I remembered was being with Cirrus Cloud and Welded Steel, and carrying the Company assassin. I must have fallen asleep.

I wondered if she was okay. She was filled with terror when she awoke from being tranquilized, assuming that’s what happened to us. She also passed out shortly after we got out of the frying pan, so to speak. Just then, Kind Wind came out of a tent flap next to the one I exited.

“Hey, good to see you up, sleepyhead,” he said, holding a flask of a clear, blue-green liquid with a forehoof. On the bottom of the hoof, I noticed an emblazoned X. He held the flask by a strap. “Happy to have your leg back?”

I nodded gratefully.

“Listen, I’m going to need you to relax today, and finish this bottle before you lie down tonight. Don’t drink it all at once, sip on it throughout the day.”

I floated the flask into my possession. “Thank you for everything, Kind Wind. You saved our lives.”

“No worries, later we’re going to have a feast tonight, and we will discuss how we’ll get you out of here. I’m not the only one that needs thanking.”

I hadn’t thought about leaving here in a while. My mind had been so locked in the now. I haven’t had much time to think about any of that.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Who, that mysterious Company mare?”

“Yeah.”

“She said she needed some time to herself. She left the village about a half hour ago.” He shrugged lazily. It was apparent he whole village had bad blood with the Ironpony Trading Company, and that’s probably why this tribe banded together in the first place. But why didn’t they kill her when she was free from me?

“Where did she go?”

“Over on the safe side of the village, the opposite side in which you first came here. Don’t worry, there’s nothing except ponds and peace on that side.”

I headed out of the tent, and determined that I needed to go right, towards the supposedly safe side of the forest. I grabbed my gear and flask before leaving. The now familiar sounds and smells of the village softened my thought process, thus allowing me to think clearly. I realized that I ended up caring for the assassin. Sure, we helped each other out, but because we were forced to. I cared because of her reaction back at camp. She freaked out,and mentioned the same thing happening to her brother. She reminded me of Pounce in that sense, watching and knowing your family is dying a terrible death before your eyes, and knowing that bandits and psychopaths are doing it purely for enjoyment... I shook the visualization out of my head.

I went into the serene-looking forest. No one stopped me, so it had to be safe. And it was. It looked like something you’d read out of a book: verdant ferns, crystal clear ponds, soft grass, all of that good stuff.

Crystal clear water.

I threw my head in, and drank greedily and merrily. The water was so pure, I almost choked on its quality. It was a hell of a lot better than Industead’s water, that was for sure. I never had anything like it. The water soaking my beaten, stressed mane felt like Heaven. The water felt like the definition of cleanse in the form of water.

“Hey,” a metallic voice from behind me said.

I snapped out of my girlish trance, flinging my head up and cracking a whip of water behind me. The water-whip landed on my former companion.

“Uh, sorry about that,” I said, while embarrassed. I turned around and used a forehoof to scratch the back of my head and get my mane to sit properly. She sat on the forest floor silently, her stoic mask staring me down for a moment.

“Well, you ready to kill me yet?” I asked with a hint of bitterness. I took a sip out of the flask. It didn’t taste very good at all.

Her gaze penetrated the lush forest floor now. She shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, quietly.

My expression softened. I found myself sitting, too. I had grown to care for her. I couldn’t be angry with her for being an Ironpony. Really, we could be angry at each other for being who we are. To her, I’m bandit scum. To me, she’s Company scum.

“You’re welcome.” I didn’t want to ask about it, but I wanted to know more about her and what happened to her brother.

She sat, silently, but lifted her head up to face me again. I saw my reflection in the eyes of her mask.

I broke the silence. “So what now? You’re pretty much off of Company radar, and I am pretty sure you don’t have much of a way back.”

“I could go back. All I have to do is signal for a pickup. I have a built-in global positioning system, you know. Once Company get here, they can pick me up and wipe the village out, should they choose.”

I was worried and angry, and I wanted to kill her. Before I could say something back, she spoke again.

“But I won’t.”

My ears went back and my face softened once more. “Why not? We all hate the Company, and the village is practically build by outcasts and rebels. And your mission is still to kill me, which you have yet to do. You’ve been in a position all along to get yourself out of here. Why haven’t you? And if you have a global position-thing in your mask, why haven’t they shown up here already?”

“I switched it off that night we were in the tree. When I thanked you in a way similar to now.”

I blinked. Nothing came to my mouth to say, other than this: “You, uh, switched it off?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be rescued.”

“What? But didn’t you want to get out of here? Away from me?”

“No. Not by them. I didn’t want to go back to the Company. I was loyal to them because I didn’t have anything or anyone else. You showed me what your life is like. Your adventures. Your feelings, your care. You brought me here. I didn’t thank you because you saved me, Rain. I thanked you because you showed me that the type of ponies I hunted weren’t my worst enemy. They were the ponies I should’ve been with all along.”

Now I was really tongue-tied. I didn’t know what to say. Stalling, I took a sip of the flask thought of words to come out of my mouth. “But what about your bitterness with the tribe? Your comments about them?”

“I think I was in denial. I couldn’t grasp the concept that I was affiliating myself with enemies, the type of people I’d sworn to kill. ‘Uncivilized’ tribals, is what I used to think of ponies like you and this village, and ponies like Kind Wind. Used to think. I believe I misunderstood what the Company’s real purpose was. Not that I would ever know.” She also had a flask, similar to mine. She took a drink.

I’ve wondered what their purpose was for the longest time as well. I figured it was just a mail service that dominated the area, but I am really starting to see how they are truly everywhere, swallowing up what they can.

“What now?” I asked.

“I want to see how Kind Wind is going to get the two of us to Baltimare.”

I was happy but skeptical. I suppose she could come, but I am still unsure whether she is to be trusted or not. I’ll have a private word with Kind Wind about it later, although I was sure his bias would give me an answer I wasn’t looking for.

I wanted to ask her to take off her mask, but I didn’t want to prod in an area that wasn’t appropriate at the time. She had already poured out quite a few of her secrets on me.

I wondered how many more secrets she had.

“—so, I turn around after snapping off da bar, and she and her amigo are passed out on the pile of boxes!” Welded said, while laughing and trying to eat food all at the same time.

Cirrus Cloud, turning from Welded Steel, began to continue the story. “So I climb out, trying to stretch, and accidentally knock Weld in the face with my wing! He staggers and trips over Rain—” She interrupted herself with her own laughter. Her lightly talon pounded the mat we were eating on.

“—Falling on ‘em! It was hilarious!” Weld finished. My heart sank and I found myself blushing.

“Aw, Rain, we aren’t laughing at ya.” Cirrus assuringly and gently punches my shoulder. “Just a funny turn of events is all. We’re all just a bunch of clumsy heroes. Except me. I’m just clumsy.” She finished the last sentence with some snickering.

“Ha, I know.” I levitated the apple from my plate and took a bite. The purity and the freshness of the apple nearly made me gag. It was delicious.

We were having the feast in Kind Wind’s tent. The five of us, Weld, Cirrus, Kind Wind, my ex-companion, and I, were there. Kind Wind set out a large square rug in place of the bearskin that is usually in the center. He covered it in a large tablecloth, and set out plates, silverware, and an assortment of fresh vegetables and fruits, and some meats for Cirrus. We each had our own plate with our own selections of these. The assassin sat to my left, on the same side of the rug that I was on. On the right edge of the square was Weld, and on the opposite side of him was Cirrus. We were opposite Kind Wind, who sat by himself of the so-called head of the rug.

“Sorry if we were deadweights to drag back to camp. I didn’t mean to be a nuisance.”

“Naw, it’s cool. I flew you two back to camp.”

“What?” I said, surprised. I suppose I forgot she had wings and could fly.

“Yeah. I just put you guys on my back, flew back to the village, and came back for Weld.”

I looked at Weld. He just gave a conventional nod as he chewed on some lettuce.I flew. I was flying through the air, and didn’t get to experience it.

Over the course of half an hour, many things were discussed and joked about. One of which that was discussed was what Cirrus Cloud was. They explained to me that she was a species known as Griffon. Griffons are half eagle and half lion, taking the form factor of the latter but the look and functionality of the former.

Another thing discussed was how I would get to Baltimare. I insisted very simple rewards, as I felt like I did not deserve too much. “Nonsense,” they told me, and they insisted that I have something called a teleport rune.

Runes are basically stones infused with magic, usually from very long ago, according to Kind Wind. They contain very powerful pre-fabricated spells when used, and anypony can use them. The problem is that they can only be used once. After that, they’re as good as rocks.

The one that he gave me was of a spell that allowed me and anyone else in my vicinity to teleport almost anywhere in Equestria, as long as there wasn’t a magic-deterrent barrier guarding the location.

Cirrus spoke, with a tone and expression of surprise. “Kind Wind, you’re giving her that? But that—”

“Yes, I know,” he interjected, patting his mouth with a handkerchief, “but it’s not of any use to me. The Company didn’t have a use for it either, but I didn’t want them to have something of such power.”

“But that’s one of the last things from your days as an Ironpony,” Cirrus stated.

“Wouldn’t getting rid of it be a good omen, then? I no longer have Company affiliation, and I do not choose to.”

“True. I was just concerned, because I knew it had value to you,” Cirrus stated, understandingly.

I was confused. The assassin and I looked at each other blankly. “Um, what are we talking about here?” I asked.

Kind Wind spoke. “I was part of the Ironpony Trading Company several years ago.”

Cirrus interjected. “Wind—”

“No, it’s fine, I think our new friends should know.” He took a sip of his drink before continuing. “I used to be an arms merchant for the Trading Company during my youth. I sold and delivered arms to different towns and cities headed by Mayors or other ranks of rulers.”

There that word was again. Mayor. So they did have some kind of universal ruling system.

“I was quite acquainted with Lord Ironclad, the president himself. I was in the Manehattan Company embassy one morning, organizing deals with weapon manufacturers for Lord Ironclad, when I heard a couple rumors coming from some of my co-workers. I made the mistake of confirming that for them, saying ‘yeah, he is pretty shady’. It was a mistake because everyone knew I knew him more personally than others.”

“Ironclad had me branded.” He lifted his forehoof. “Branded and jailed for several days. The brand means that I had done wrong by the company. The X symbolizes exile.” He paused again, reflecting. “I am glad he jailed me. It gave me a lot of time to clear my head and think what I really needed to be doing. Cirrus Cloud’s mother contacted me around a week before, wondering if I could help her tribe. I told her I didn’t help tribals. I didn’t want to have affiliation with ‘filthy’ tribals and bandits. But jail time made me realize. The real filth was the company. I knew of the tyranny of the cities and even small towns built and owned by Industead, and even the ghost town of Ponyville that had strangely received a mayor.”

“I’ve been through there. It’s not a ghost town. I met some bandits living in Twilight’s library.” I wanted to contribute.

“Ah, see? Might as well be a ghost town. No one goes outside because they are either bandits or are afraid of them.” Kind Wind held two hooves up, using them to represent the two parties of ponies he spoke of.

“Back to the story,” he said. “When I got released from jail, I was a new pony. I returned to the griffon I spoke to previously, and promised her the whole shipment of weapons that the Ironpony manufacturers made. She took them back to this very village, in large groups at a time. She didn’t care that it was too much on her body. She didn’t care that by the time she delivered all of the weapons to fight the Deranged with, she was exhausted beyond measure.”

A tear shed from Cirrus’s eye, and the room fell to a deadly silence.

“She died from over-exhaustion, but she delivered the full shipment, along with me. She chose me to be the new chief of her tribe, as I wanted to escape the Trading Company as much as I possibly could. I had all tracking sensors removed. I prevented any traces. I knew how to bypass the embassy’s radar. I simply vanished. To this day, neither Ironclad nor anyone else in the Company has figured out where I am.” He paused for a second. He turned to the assassin.”Except you.”

“But that’s alright,” he continued. The two of you helped us out more than we could have asked for. And I know the Company well enough to know that you would’ve shot us in the back when you had the chance. By now, you should know that the Company wouldn’t have wasted the resources to come get you.”

“Yes, I know this now. I understand them better. I’ve had more time to think these past two days than I ever had. I turned my tracking off to simulate death. You’re not the only one that vanished,” she explained. “I haven’t been able to think more clearly in my whole life. You were right to leave, Kind Wind, I respect that. I have decided to do the same. I want to go with Rain to Baltimare.”

I looked at her, admiringly. I believe she had made the right decision. In the eyes of her mask, I saw the reflection of the face of Kind Wind.

“Well, that’s a good decision on your part. It’s one we’re all glad you made, but we hope you stick to it. I can see it in you that you have a big heart. Your motives might be unaware to us, but I know they’re of good intentions.” Kind Wind paused to take a bite, then made a bizarre statement. A statement that has been engraved in my mind ever since I fell off of the humvee.

“They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. The problem is that I can’t see yours. I only see myself when I look at you. Fitting, but not what we all want to see, given our rough circumstances.” He took a small bite and swallowed. “Do us one last favor. Would you take off your mask, introduce yourself, and maybe eat something?”

“I would feel terrible since I haven’t done so thus far,” she said.

“Trust me when I say we’d feel terrible if you didn’t.”

She sat as still as a statue for a moment. “You’re right. I apologize for being such an ass these past few days. I’ve been feeling torn, but it’s no excuse.”

Her face fell towards the floor. Both of her forehooves came up to sides of the mask as she shifted her weight to her haunches. She pulled forward, knocking her desperado hat off of her head and behind her, supported by a string that was around her neck. The mask came off, revealing a pony of dark grey skin, almost black, and piercing, cerulean-colored eyes. Her mane was exposed when she pulled off the part of her suit that covered it. The mane was composed entirely of spikes and midnight blue. The back of it faded into black.

“Obsidian Blossom,” she said.

Departure.

It was morning. The sleep felt fantastic, and seeing Obsidian Blossom’s was reassuring, and a full stomach made me feel new again.

Kind Wind insisted I take the rune, but Cirrus insisted I not use it yet. She gave me an extra saddlebag to hold it in, and insisted that I let her fly me to Baltimare, and I simply couldn’t refuse. That’s just too exciting!

I visited Welded Steel at his shop, to thank him and say my goodbyes. He gave me a hug, and told me to keep in touch. He also went into a behind the counter. After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out an odd-looking pistol, which glowed white faintly in some areas of it, and gave it to me. He told me it was one of his most prized possessions, but not worth more than his friends. “Dis gun,” he explained, “I got from a peace-loving society in da northwest. It’s a magical weapon and tells you your mood, based on the glowing parts.”

I thanked him for everything, and started for the tent flap. “Don’t trust anyone from de Company, even dat Obsidian girl. Watch your back, amigo,” he warned. I took the advice to heart.

I placed it in the bag with the rune and walked out, giving Welded a smile and a wave.

The departure point was in the middle of town. Obsidian Blossom, now unmasked, sat next to Cirrus and was chatting her up. Villagers greeted and thanked me subtly as I walked past, but still eyed Obsidian suspiciously. I walked up to Obsidian, and sat in front of her. “Ready to go?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. It was good to finally see a positive expression when I look at her face rather than to see my own.

“Yeah, I’m all saddled up,” Cirrus said, checking her harness. “You guys are going to be attached to my back, just to be safe. You’re also going to have parachutes, in case I go down. That way, we’ll all be able to land safely no matter what.”

Turning to the each of us, she strapped us up with a harness and a parachute. It was a decent fit, but it didn’t feel like it constrained me much at all. It was extremely rugged, and I knew for a fact it wasn’t going to give in to anything.

Then we mounted her back, and strapped ourselves in. Obsidian Blossom was in front with me behind her. Cirrus put on a pair of goggles and gave an O.K. signal with her talon. “Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yep!” I said. I was more than ready. I couldn’t wait to experience what it was like to fly! I was a kid in a candy store. Obsidian didn’t seem nearly as excited, but I could see from the corner of her mouth that she was smiling a little.

We lurched forward. Cirrus forced herself and us a few steps towards the edge of the village, where the forest entrance we first emerged out of was. Her steps were swift, effective, and powerful.

Her almost angelic wingspan outstretched itself after a few of these steps. Their opening shook the world, manipulating the air surrounding us. We hadn’t even left, and I was already feeling the wind rushing through my mane.

And then, the take off. While she shoved forward, I felt the wind gather beneath the griffon’s wings. She slammed her wings downward, surging us upward! I got an uncanny, thrilling enjoyment from it as we soared each meter higher. With more flaps of her wings, the villagers below transformed from ponies to mice, from mice to crickets, and from crickets to ants.

My eyes wanted to look at everything, take in everything at once. I wanted to be one of those circular security cameras that Industead had, so I could see and record everything so I could look at it over and over again. The village eventually became non-existent. The rivers were blue ribbons, dropped carelessly in a forest-green puddle that was the surrounding forest.

I remember when I had to quit looking this magnificent scenery from the road… but now even the road was just a ribbon. I saw the cliff where my life was supposed to end. I was flying over it now. I thought of Red, the Remnants, and their shared message: To rise from nothing and spread your wings. Each day, I was understanding its meaning more and more.

Gradually, we approached the too-familiar biome I grew up in: the desert. It was eerie, flat, completely clear, but majestic. I had grown accustomed to the heat, so I could focus my full attention on the pure beauty of the rolling dunes of the scenery. A few cacti were scattered here and there, acting as blemishes to the purity of the landscape. After a bit of flight, nothing could be seen from any direction. The vastness of the desert and the witnessing of it from this height was simply unreal. I felt as though I was having an unorthodox dream about being alone, but at the same time not at all.

The feeling of the soft feathers of Cirrus and wind rushing through my mane both comforted me, even if the wind made me realize how filthy my hair and fur actually were.

I floated the pistol that Welded gave me out in front of me, and examined the magical lights strewn on different pieces of the gun. They glowed a bright, warm orange that stood out against their background—the cold, black suit of Obsidian’s. I assumed that the orange meant that I was happy or excited, and carefully swapped it out with Obsidian’s holstered pistol.

After a minute or so, the orange lights on the pistol faded into what was now a deep, vibrant purple. It puzzled me, as I couldn’t figure out what emotion that represented. I replaced the pistol with her own.

An hour or so of glorious travel passed. A looming structure in the desert could be seen, and took shape as we neared it. I made sense of it one building after another as each grew larger. The desert was as clear as it could ever be, without sandstorms or the like that Industead was known to be affected by, so it was easily possible to see details on the buildings once they were in sight. Then, when we were getting within landing distance, we could see ponies on the streets.

We descended for landing. The air rushing through my hair now pushed upward as we went downward. Cirrus did this rapidly, and it felt like I would come out of my harness. She slowed well before we hit land, and gently came down on the edge of the city, where the road faded into the ground of the desert, being covered in small, scattered blotches and piles of sand.

We detached ourselves from the harnesses, and unmounted Cirrus. The demounting was awkward, since I had been flying for well over an hour, which I am definitely not used to. I nearly fell on my rump.

The trip here wasn’t the only thing that was intoxicating. The size of the buildings, no: towers, was positively massive. Too large. I wondered what anypony would ever need such large buildings for. The road was wide, complete with sidewalks. A custodian earth pony was smiling at us warmly while brushing sand off the road. Ponies could be seen behind him, bustling about at an intersection, still surrounded by buildings of various sizes and purposes. Ponies went into and out of them.

I smiled back and waved at the custodian, then turned to the size of the buildings once more. I suddenly realized I was on the right path to the kind of life I wanted to live in Equestria. Exploring the world, making friends. Going on adventures, even if I should have been killed by Deranged or bandit rapists. But, as my mother always said, it’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, which has yet to happen to me.

Baltimare.