Fallout Equestria: No Regrets

by Indigo Breeze

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Thriller, Drama, Original Character, Science Fiction, Crossover, Sex, Gore
Length: 29295

Indigo Breeze is a pony with a colorful past, explorer, cartographer, soldier, experimental specimen and Shadowbolt. Waking up in the Wasteland with only questions about how she got there, she'll need to learn quickly to survive.

I've been working on writing this since the beginning and I have a number of chapters written, but it's incomplete and I lost enthusiasm for awhile. I've recently become very active in writing fic for a different fandom and I feel confident enough in my skills as a writer to finally finish this one. I'm also cross posting this on AO3. I'm hoping to reach a tone between Pink Eyes and Project Horizons. There will be soft mentions of the other stories and very liberal interpretations of both canon and fanon as I weave my own story around Indigo navigating her way through the Wastelands.

Published 2017-03-18 20:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-11-23 03:26:16 UTC

The Wastelands

“When in Roam.... It’s best not to think too much about how you got there, and focus on how you’re getting out alive.”

Pain. It seems like life always begins with pain. On the plus side, I think you have to acclimate to it eventually. The itching was next, like nothing I’d ever felt before. I would have scratched, but I don’t think I had a muscular system yet. Apparently my neurological system was the first to regenerate. Needless to say, I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything either, once the mental screaming quieted to a dull roar in the background. My bones have hurt before, but this was something more fundamental than a break, bruising or a ripped tendon. I was ecstatic by the time I felt a twitch. I had nothing but the slow agonizing sensation of my body reknitting itself from scratch.

I hadn’t known my harness could do that. I couldn’t remember what had happened to me, so I could only assume it’d been quick. I wondered how long this regeneration was taking, how long it had already been.

My celebration of movement was short-lived as a fresh hell of torment opened up. I’m pretty sure I blacked out, and frequently, during the growth of my flesh. I finally woke up and could see as my fur grew back, which surprised me a little, I was half expecting that I’d be walking around like a shaved cat until it grew in again. My mane had apparently grown too, the red faded to a maroon and my multi-colored roots starting to show to my own vision. I took a deep breath and triggered a miserable sneezing fit, coughing up muddy gobs of dust. I blinked my watering eyes in turn to clear out much of the same. I was positively filthy and emaciated, if not for my hoof it looked as if my pipbuck would have slid right off. There wasn’t just dirt, there was some kind of moss or lichen growing over me. I had to literally scratch it out of my skin.

It was slightly phosphorescent and grew all around me, illuminating everything with a cool glow. I’d always had great night vision and the magical augmentation had enhanced it to where I had clear sight in all but complete darkness.

I was weaker than I’d ever felt, the effort of reaching out to the grimy device on my foreleg sent a scream along the muscles of my side, but I bit back the cry and hit the power button hoping for some clue as to what was happening. Despite the best pressure I could force on it, the unit was either dead or I wasn’t powerful enough to depress a simple switch. I couldn’t quite lift my head, but pushed my face along the ground to where I saw some kind of weed or grass in addition to the lichen and moss. I strained for it with lips and tongue, sobbing with relief as I felt the arcane technologies that sustained my existence convert it to energy.

I expect I spent at least an hour slowly crawling around my location scarfing any form of possible sustenance. On the upside, I've always had a very strong stomach. Even before the experiment, I ate things ponies were not meant to eat. When traveling in foreign lands, enjoying exotic hospitality, I was occasionally served things where not only did I know better than to ask what was on the plate, but who, lest I end up on the menu. And so I just started eating everything in my face where I fell. There was grass, there was dirt, there were weeds, clover, flowers, thorns, bristles, poisonous or not, insects and maybe even a few small rodents. I’m sure Fluttershy would have been horrified should she have been around to see it.

And then I fell asleep again.

I take a while waking up, always have. In retrospect, I am very lucky not to have been attacked in my slumber, but at the time I don’t think I could have done anything else. “Mmm Captain Equestria, olives are the secret to the super soldier serum...” Shrill chirping roused me from my slumber. Luna damn it, right when things were getting good. Although I can’t quite get drunk after the experiment, extensive regeneration leaves me with an effect rather like a hangover. Slowly I cracked my eyes open. Oh good, not too bright out. I thought.

I’ve always had a problem where my face, and especially eyes kind of swell while I sleep. I also tend to drool a bit. The improvised meal and my all over grubbiness had only exacerbated the problem. My body was not happy with me. My stomach and my mouth offered their own upset, then as I looked to the sky, forcing my eyes to open wider, I was further treated to a splitting headache. Sure it was overcast, but looking directly at the sun, even through cloud cover, is generally inadvisable.

I sat up slowly, surveying the wreckage about me, flexing my wings and checking my balance before trying my hooves. I was trying furiously to put my brain to work to figure out where I was, but couldn’t quite push through the sleepy stupor of waking. I looked to one side and saw a crumpled wall. To my other another vaguely shaped wall with a somewhat regular looking opening in it. I looked up to see a twisted, rusting scaffolding against the cloudy sky and then I began to feel scared.

This wasn't a minor amount of damage, more than a firefight or even exchange of artillery fire. More troubling than the extent of the damage was its evident antiquity. The lichen alone told me that it had been years, and depending on its species, it could have been even longer than that.

As I stood up and stretched, I became really afraid. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for someone to unhook my harness as a mean-spirited prank, I never took it too seriously because they usually re-fastened it just as quickly. So who had done it now? Hoofprints that led to nowhere meant little. I am many things but a talented tracker I am not. My good Samaritan could be another pegasus like me, or a unicorn with a float spell, or even an earth pony who was an exceptionally good jumper. No, what was bothersome was how did they know? Who were they? I was super top, top secret, and while a few aforementioned well informed individuals were aware, I also wasn’t a very exciting breakthrough. A single soul just isn’t efficient enough, not to mention the expense and scarcity of the network of Gemstones which studded my harness.

So, I did what my pre-war profession had taught me to do, I took off and surveyed the area.

* * *

I’d been in dense isolated wilderness before, I’ve adventured through wilds untouched by ponykind, or any other kind of sentient life, but I’d never seen such desolation as this before. I’d seen cloudy skies, but even in the worst storms the clouds were never quite so widely and evenly distributed. I flew closer to investigate, not really noticing or expecting what appeared to be metal rods sticking out of the clouds every so often.

Electrocution isn’t fun. I’m not sure if it killed me or not, but it is never fun to have your heart forcibly kick-started. Fortunately, I didn’t fall too terribly far before regaining control or consciousness. The first time I really crash landed was bad enough, getting a wing dislocated and a severe concussion just isn’t a great day; no matter the painkillers and alcohol I shouldn’t have mixed or the literally out of this world tricks I picked up that night. But then there was the time in the war when I was fighting some horrific monstrosity in the air that actually managed to rip my wing off.

Having been born to an earth pony mother, raised on the ground, I’ve always had a slight fear of falling. So when I found myself flailing desperately and ineffectively with the stump of one wing streaming blood everywhere, the experience was beyond terrifying. Especially the alternating views of the ground rushing up to meet me and the sky falling away. I tumbled head over hooves, streams of magical energy and lead bullets zipping past or through me. Nothing compared to the absolute horror and pain of the slow motion liquefaction of my flesh as I hit the ground. Well, maybe regenerating from chalky, mossy bone.

At least the harness kept itself pristine in all its time. While I still needed to bathe occasionally it always kept ship-shape whether it was clasped or not. I was also pleasantly surprised to see a dim glow from my Pipbuck. In any case, I did what I think anypony would do in my situation, what with the shock of electrocution only to regain consciousness while plummeting towards a likely demise.

I went looking for a drink.

* * *

I’m pretty sure my cutie mark has to do with making phenomenal fuck ups, although I always felt procrastination would have been more suitable, but then, what would a pony whose talent was procrastination even look like?

I flew for a very long time that night, trying not to dwell on the fact I was seeing devastating craters and rubble everywhere. I wasn’t sure where I was, I think whatever had happened to destroy me had taken more of my memories with it.

I had been flying too long and probably more than a little loopy. Although my soul amplified through gemstones was apparently strong enough to keep me “alive” for however many years I’d been in the ruins, I still needed to do usual pony things. Like sleep and eat. Sure, I could in theory go without indefinitely, but starvation blows. I was most displeased when they performed that test. The sleep deprivation test was fun, though that most likely had to do with the Mint-als and the fact I apparently have a very crowded subconscious. Technically I wasn’t a high enough security clearance to know most of the details of my own experiment, and I honestly think Rarity wouldn’t have told me that the experiment involved manipulating my soul except for the fact that it had killed me. I love Rarity, don’t get me wrong, but as Generous as she was, she was no Applejack.

In any case, when I saw the camp, I was perhaps a little too overeager to approach. Even though I’d had Equestria’s best military survival training, and especially considering I was supposed to be a scout, I really should have done a bit of recon before introducing myself.

“GREETINGS FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!” I said in my best Royal Canterlot Speaking Voice, landing in front of their bonfire. I chuckled a bit, thinking I’d done Luna proud. Then the gunshots started.

“It’s a Pegasus Ghoul!”

“Oh fuck, an alicorn!”

Most of the shots bounced off my force fields. Unfortunately, one glaring flaw of my harness design was that there had been no comfortable way of shielding my wings while still maintaining their ability to maneuver and retain aerodynamics. Luckily, I’d always been pretty down-to-earth for a pegasus, so I did what any respectable pony would. I reared up, turned and fled with my tail between my legs. My sensitive, also unshielded tail.

“Celestia banish me to the moon.” I sobbed to myself, I was even hungrier now, regenerating swaths of flesh and extruding bullets really takes it out of you, no pun intended. But I kept running until I collapsed to the ground.

“Looks like I got some lead poisoning.” I chuckled to myself as I finally finished recovering. Not leaving anything to waste, I even ate a couple of the used bullets that lay around me.

And then I looked at myself. Really looked at myself. Now I knew why they called me a ghoul, to say I was emaciated would have been an understatement. I looked like a walking corpse, right out of a Nightmare Night tale. I wondered how bad I’d looked before eating, when I’d first awakened. I gave thought now to the other comment as I stood up and really started looking myself over. I’d gotten taller, my wings were larger. “Aww Princess Dammit, what’s the point of being immortal if you still age?!” I shouted. One day I should probably stop talking to myself, but then, where would I be now? “Actually, that’s a good question.” Feeling a certain kind of sexy because once I piled on a bit more horseflesh I’d be a rival to Princess Luna or the Supermodel Fluer De Lis in frame, I spread my sexy new wings and took to the sky again.

I was still bothered by the uncanny regularity of the clouds. I stared at them, speculating. I bet if I get enough speed I can burst through them, lightning rods of death or no.

It hurt like hell, but landing on clouds was so much nicer than landing on the ground. I was startled to find myself in a garden. I didn’t stop to think twice, I just started eating. I was still eating when I heard power armor approaching. “Oh thank, Celestia. I can’t wait to see friendlies again.” I mean whoever was at that campsite was probably just surprised at seeing a nearly Luna sized walking skeleton. I mean, if I were sleepy in camp and a skeleton popped out I’d be pretty terrified and shoot without asking too. And since I have the magical shields, an alicorn isn’t too far off for a guess.

“Wait a minute, but why would they specifically state Alicorn? Why wouldn’t they have shouted Nightmare or Princess or...” Oh man, the itis struck hard. “Uhg, I ate too much.” I complained, the soldiers were closing the distance now, approaching cautiously, they could probably hear me. Then again I was trespassing as well as stealing and I looked like a wild pony in lingerie, so they wouldn’t be far off if they thought I was crazy to boot.

I wondered when they’d successfully developed the cloud seeding technology. Granted I wasn’t of a security clearance to know about that either, but that was one of the benefits of being a grunt, for being bright purple and a shameless exhibitionist, people tended to overlook me when I kept my mouth shut. “I can’t wait to get back to a barrack, debrief and I will be OUT before my head hits the cot.” I couldn’t see their expressions through their visors and I was a little put out by the way they held their tails. I’d always shared Rarity’s disdain for the manticore inspired scorpion tails, they really were just garish and excessive. I mean, why do you need a tail barb when you have rifles? Pegasi don’t get into CQC. Or at least, shouldn’t. I was not a good pegasus. A little too much earth pony in my bloodline. Luckily, it means I’m better at CQC than most other Pegasi.

“You are under arrest for trespassing under order of the Grand Pegasus Enclave.”

“Enclave, what the hay is that? Oh, by the way what year is it?” The fact that this wasn’t the first time I had asked this question struck home as further evidence of the fact that I really needed to take a serious look at my life choices. They didn’t seem amused or obliging so I sighed and did as any military grunt did upon being taken into custody. “Indigo Breeze, Captain, 13,488,324. I am unarmed.” Truth was, I’d actually been demoted after the incident, before Rarity offered me the chance to take part in an experiment. That was half the reason I was volunteered. Knowing the Element Bearer of Generosity has perks when you need a favor. Of course, after the experiment I didn't officially exist at all anymore, my identity, much less rank, were taken away, replaced with the empty designation of Shadowbolt Gust.

I took measure of my nervous captors. I’d always been tall for a mare, especially for a pegasus, but I had never expected I would get quite so tall. I didn’t recognize their flight designation. I tried to remember who had what, but hell, sometimes I had trouble remembering my own flight, having transferred a couple of times. I flicked my wings a bit and shifted my weight impatiently. They weren’t quite certain what to do with me.

I was still trying to determine their rank when I finally started to realize that I really didn’t recognize their insignias. Hell, I might even outrank them. I thought to myself. One of them pulled out hoofcuffs, and I got a little bit scared. “Hey guys, at least get me a drink first.” I laughed nervously. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling about this. “So, guys, girls, can’t really tell under the armor, uh, where am I? Where are you kids stationed? Who’s your commanding officer? How goes the war efforts?” Okay, so I was yammering. You’ll notice I do that. They weren’t responding. They were bringing their tails to bear and preparing to pounce. I gave a desperate flap of my wings and leapt. Had I not forgotten my growth, I probably wouldn’t have made it. I barely cleared above them, and immediately dove back down through the clouds behind them.

Naturally I blacked out for a moment passing through the lightning layer, and my pursuers had gained on me. I don’t know who was more startled when I recovered, as I struck out at their faces and started flapping in earnest. I don’t know how I managed to keep so much distance except for the fact that they really weren’t expecting me to wake up from that electrifying experience. I knew where I was going now, pleased that my larger wings had increased my speed. If I really wanted to push my luck I knew I could outfly them by the strength of my new wings alone, but honestly it wouldn’t have been worth the effort. I had a much more efficient plan in mind.

I flew back through the camp that had greeted me so enthusiastically earlier. I knew better than to slow down this time, mercifully speeding through without catching any bullets, but as my escorts followed, the encampment’s rifles were at the ready.

I didn’t know what was going on or who was on who’s side, but I felt sick as I watched the two factions tear each other apart. As much as I’d acclimated myself to the concept of ponies fighting Zebras, watching ponies murder other ponies with such enthusiasm really disturbed me. I swallowed my regrets on the spot, making survival my first priority.

I waited for the firefight to die down before scouting the site from far above. Not quite to the cloud layer but out of range of the encampment's rifles. I circled down slowly, to be sure that nothing stirred aggressively.

I was distraught as I finally landed. The camp was eerily quiet, and I gnawed on my halter as I assessed the fallen. The two pegasi lay still in pools of blood. For a moment my scavenger nature insisted I take their armor, but I knew that not only would it be the stuffy experience I barely accepted in the war, their armor was probably too small for my new frame.

The other ponies weren’t much better off, mostly earth ponies with a unicorn or two; their armor not nearly sufficient to have offered a challenge to the pegasi rifles. I looted a bit then, recognizing healing potions and meds. I took no notice of the various garbage in their saddlebags, and was considering the selection of what armament would be available to me when I noticed three large cages.

I didn’t realize anything was in them at first, looking over the bundles of rags on the floor.

I felt more concerned by a lack of concern as I realized I was looking at more dead ponies. These ones wore collars, huddled together against the rain of bullets that had passed through the area. Mares in one, Stallions in another and the third appeared empty.

I swallowed again, trying to tamp down the dark knowledge that I had visited this fate upon them.

I did a double take as I approached the last, the tiniest movement catching my eye. Listening sharply and watching like a hawk I began to identify signs of life.

I was so intent on the heap I didn’t notice the movement behind me until two bullets lanced through me. I turned on the blue and yellow blur of a mare facing me. She’d taken damage already, barely standing on her hooves. She was a pegasus herself. I wasn’t sure how to describe her wings, other than that she had clearly never flown. Her mane might have sparkled if not for the grime coating her. I was surprised she was alive honestly, despite the hastily applied bandages around her midsection. By the red staining, I was certain she hadn’t the training necessary to use them effectively.

She leveled a rifle on me but she’d gotten too close. I struck out with my hooves, slipping my brain into self-defense mode, aiming for her head and forequarters, I hoped I would knock the gun out of her grip. A few more bullets dug through me in the process, breaking through my barriers at such close range, but they blew straight through me, although they did take considerable chunks of meat with them. I didn’t stop stomping until her body lay still. Then I backed off, covered in blood and chest heaving as my injuries healed. I still danced nervously, planting a few entirely unnecessary hoof strikes as I retreated, spooked.

It had been a long, long time since I’d had to eliminate another equine in such close quarters. I tried to pretend to ignore her lack of stripes, I tried to ignore her similar wings, I forced myself to look away from the shattered remains of her skull and ribcage. My eyes lingered only a moment on the blood stained cutie mark of a star and spiraling nebular sky.

My brain stopped whirling as my heart rate normalized, I barely felt or noticed my healing injuries as my body buzzed with adrenaline. Nervously I skipped around the camp again, looking for any stragglers I may have missed, determined to mercy kill before my enemies revived. Gracefully it wasn’t necessary. By the time I rounded again on my personal victim I had gained a small collection of not too terribly destroyed guns and some ammo. I would check later how well the two collaborated. The spoils of the camp hung from my frame in a variety of extra saddle bags and duffels with a few mismatched swatches of armor plating covering my flanks below.

I started to hear the late protestations of my casualty, the haze from the fight dimming. “My property... I’ll protect...” I tried to ignore it, instead re-investigating the crate containing life. I prayed to the goddesses that more of the bullets from my altercation hadn’t gone wild into the bundle as I bucked the rusted cage door open.

I dug through the rags and found two small foals and one griffin chick huddled tightly together. They were very small, filthy, and emaciated, most especially the chick.

The largest was a magenta earth pony filly. She looked at me calmly, inquisitive. “So are you our new master?” She asked all too calmly.

“Master love?” Piped the middle one, a cobalt unicorn colt, fixing me with the widest and most loving eyes I’d ever seen. My heart leaped in spite of myself and I wondered how he’d managed such a demeanor in such conditions. The griffin chick barely reacted, huddling tighter into a ball. It had barely begun to fledge, covered in a dirty coat of downy feathers.

“Hey, babies, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” I settled my body down, sitting my haunches outside of the mobile wagon and resting my forequarters inside, as close as I dared to get to the timid group.

“Are you an alicorn?” The filly asked me, pointing cautiously towards me with one tiny hoof. “You look like your horn is broken. Does that mean you can think for yourself?”

“Er, yes.” I didn’t really know what she was talking about, but I decided that it was best to shut up and let them decide what was going on. Maybe I could pick up on what was happening.

I couldn’t venture an age for the filly, I’d guess her older than her looks, I knew the unfortunate truth that abused children tended to have stunted growth. The colt I was pretty sure was only just learning words, and I had no idea how to gauge the health of the griffin chick. Whatever the case, they needed warmth, and I moved the mostly cooperative colt into one of my saddle bags, and with considerably more resistance settled the chick into another. She (or he, I really couldn’t tell) screamed and shrieked as I fought with her, but as soon as the fabric walls of my bag surrounded her, she burrowed down and went silent.

The filly watched, not making eye contact with a look of resignation I couldn’t bear to acknowledge. “If you hop up on my back we can leave more quickly.” I offered.

I felt the hooves dig into my spine and shoulders as she did just that. I waited for her to get settled and prepared to take off when she interjected, “Aren’t you going to grab the caps?”

“Pardon?”

“The bottlecaps! You aren’t going to be able to feed us without bottlecaps! What kind of stupid slave raider are you?!”

I opened my mouth to protest as my brain interpreted the information, as well as the ringing from the shrill voice directly into my ear. “Uh, well of course, I... Um. Yes...” Bottlecaps, eh? It didn’t make sense and I was tempted to write it off as the filly’s fancy, but something about her matter of fact tone, and the number of them I’d seen encouraged me to follow through.

Eventually, I heard the tell-tale sound of pegasus armor approaching and disappeared into the woods before they could come into visual range. No doubt reinforcements had finally been called in to investigate the situation.

I walked for several hours after a short flight away from the camp, the foals all falling asleep in my care.

It worried me how easily they gave into fatigue. There was no way around the fact that they were starving, but I doubted they would fare well if I were to force sparse leaves and foliage down their throats. I didn’t even know what I would be feeding the griffin chick.

Well, actually, I had suspicions of what I needed, and that was almost more troublesome.

I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do, I didn’t even know where I was, much less what I was actively doing.

Had I been alone I might have just broken down and cried. Fortunately (I think?) having others depending on me made me screw my head on a little tighter. I laid down in the center of a clearing (possibly the same one as before, but I wasn’t sure if the furrows were dug by my hooves or some other animal) and carefully slipped free from my saddlebags. I was tempted to slide free the filly on my back but she seemed pretty resolute despite my moving and had actually gripped me more tightly when the straps of my saddlebags slipped past her.

I walked around the perimeter several times searching for any dangerous spoor as well as checking if there were any suitable pieces of vegetation, I needed some real food to supplement the meagre ‘rations’ of the slaver caravan. Ideally these kids needed some oats to pack on a few pounds before introducing richer nutrients into their systems, in small portions at a time so as not to induce colic, but I was in the middle of fucking nowhere and I had yet to see any clear signs of civilization. Well, there was above the clouds, but I wasn’t leaving these kids unattended for that long and certainly wasn’t going to take them through the lightning rods.

I sniffed the air and considered my options, I wasn’t going to go far, I didn’t want to let my precious cargo out of sight, but the thick brambles didn’t look terribly promising. I pushed my way through, carefully using my hooves, and where possible wings to keep wayward branches from lashing out at me, or my sleeping charge.

I did fairly well until one poorly restrained limb swatted me meaningfully across the face. I yelped and recoiled, rearing. Blinking in pain, I realized the thorny perpetrator was none other than a raspberry bush. The berries were small, sour, and likely underripe, but it was food, and it was something to feed the children while I tried to sort out our predicament.

“You’re a spaz.”

I grinned, still half wincing as a bead of blood rolled past my eye. “Yeah, well, you’re a razz.” I grumbled playfully, eyeing my shrubby nemesis speculatively, considering my best options for harvesting. “So, ... you kids are slaves....” I shuffled uncomfortably just at the word and tried not to dwell on the implications of how I’d found them, or their deceased peers. “...You seem... educated about things, and especially insubordinate, not that I dislike that mind you, what’s your deal?”

She looked unimpressed with my questioning. “What’s yours?” She snorted. “You obviously have no idea what’s going on around you, like a stable pony, and having looked at your forehead more closely you don’t have any remnants of a horn. .... And I don’t think I’ve heard of pinto Alicorns.”

We both stopped and stared each other down for a moment, gauging reaction. “Let's start from the beginning. My name is Indigo Breeze. I used to be a cartographer, joined the military for an education grant because I decided I wanted to be a Veterinarian, got drafted into a war, and then woke up this morning in a hostile wasteland where everypony I’ve run into has tried to kill me.” Well, the pegasi in the clouds were probably only going to arrest me. Which of course just gave me more guilt to bottle up for later. “Present company excluded of course.”

She looked at me speculatively. “Woke up where?”

“Er, stasis pod, I guess it malfunctioned and woke me up, just lucky it was a successful prototype I guess. What’s happened to the world?” It wouldn’t do to tell the whole truth to anypony who asked.

“Are you telling me that you’re over 200 years old?”

“What?!” I stared. “Did I hear you right?”

“The War against the Zebras was 200 years ago, it ended when the Zebras dropped a shitload of megaspells one day. Everypony alive is either foreign or out of a stable. Or a ghoul.”

“Ghoul?” I managed weakly, my brain struggling to compute that my whole life was two centuries old, I was ancient outdated history. Oh and that whole ‘EVERY FUCKING ONE I EVER KNEW IS DEAD’ thing.

“Basically mummies. Or zombies. Some are still sane and just like normal ponies, others are mindless flesheaters.”

“Cannibal zomponies, right.” Radiation, radiation everywhere, I wondered how much was around, how much was in me, whether or not my magical barding even shielded against radiation.

“I think.... I think it’s time for me to go to bed.... Um, what is your name?”

“Whatever you decide it is.”

“Um... what?” That snapped me out of my pity party. “You don’t have a name?”

“I’m a slave dumbass, I’m not even a person. Hell, I’m just a little filly, no one even wants a foal slave, well, there are... but my last masters had slightly higher standards about clientele.” She was clearly very bitter. Not that I could blame her.

“Uh... I... I guess I’ll call you Razzle, if that’s okay?” My earlier comment as to her chidings and the berries in my hooves that matched her coat made it seem suitable. I wasn’t very good at names.

“It’s not terrible. I think you’ll be a decent owner for a change, it’s been awhile.”

I knew it was a stupid question, I knew it was rude, but, I needed to know, and I know it’s selfish, but I was looking for some kind of closure. “H-how many times have you been sold?”

She glared at me. “I’m not sure. I was born into it, or sold as a newborn. Probably by my own mother. My first owners I remember weren’t so bad, some kind of aristocracy. They kept me as a house servant, were training me to be a maid and handmare for their daughter. Sometimes they pretended we were equal, but I think that was only my fellow servants trying to reassure me things weren’t as bad as they were. In a childish fit, one day I decided to run away because I was sick of it and thought that I’d go it alone in the world, as if no one would know I was a slave.

My next masters were not so kind.”

She went silent for a moment, and I didn’t dare ask her to continue. I knew the look in her eyes, I wanted to hold her, to tell her it was alright now, but I knew I didn’t have that right, that I’d be lying to her, and lying to myself. This was not a world I knew.

“They kept me for awhile, but they didn’t need me. They used me until they replaced me, I was sold through a few times, usually as part of a bulk deal with other slavers, like I said, most ponies don’t want a foal, and it’s easy to get overlooked when you’re small. Sometimes, other slaves will even help you out if they know you need it.

“Not all of them.

“Some of them are just as quick to kick you and steal your food as a capricious owner will.

“I just count myself lucky that I’m still alive, some days. I’ve been sick a few times, I’ve been injured a few times, I’ve been starved, but in the end I’m mostly sure it’s fortunate that I was never just outright left for dead.

“My last owners...

“They had certain.... ethics.” She looked at me and sighed. “They were part of Red Eye’s slaver army. Not that you know who he is. But, they weren’t going to sell me off to just anyone, and in fact probably weren’t going to sell me at all, Red Eye’s big on public education for all the little fillies and colts.”

“That... doesn’t sound so bad?” I knew the other hoof would drop, but I couldn’t resist.

“Red Eye’s army is a cult, built on slave labor, his schools are reeducation camps to make slaves more eager to work themselves to death for his crusade. He wants to rebuild Equestria in his own image, and he uses mutant alicorns to enforce his validity. Lucky for me we’re a long way from Fillydelphia, so I had time to think about what to do with myself before we got there.

“And then you showed up.” I couldn’t quite read the look she gave me.

“And... that was a good thing right?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well of course, was that not clear? You might be an idiot, but you seem to at least be able to defend yourself.”

“Thanks! I think.”

“Whatever, just finish picking those berries, I’m going back to sleep with the others.”

She wasn’t asleep when I got back, though I could tell she’d been trying.

“I’m a bit of a night owl myself.” I whispered, setting down the small collection of berries I’d picked and tentatively lying down next to the foal.

She looked at me without saying anything, her features blank. Then she looked away and curled back up.

I sighed and sorted through my extra saddle bags, not ready to sleep just yet myself. I saved the armament for last, first trying to identify and then organize the various drugs, medical supplies and rations. Unlike many ponies I’d grown up in rougher areas and knew the habits of less than fortunate souls who turned to vice. I was tempted to discard some of them, but I knew I would need any edge I could get in this unforgiving Wasteland, and enabling junkies would probably be a kindness in this harsh new world.

I had quite a few of the bottle caps, I sorted them into stacks of fives, and then tens in order to count them all. I hoped a few hundred would be enough to get properly outfitted. I thought about asking Razzle what the general value of individual bottle caps were, but decided not to disturb the little filly. She probably needed the rest.

I was about half way through sorting, dismantling, cleaning, and discarding the useless pieces of the firearms when I looked up to see her staring at them wide eyed. I stopped and when she noticed me noticing her, she turned away and was quiet, until I started to continue. "You seem to know how to use those."

"Well, I was in the military, they make you practice cleaning and reassembling your rifle until you can do it blindfolded." I frowned concentrating on a particularly rusty join. "Don't worry, I made sure they were empty first, I put all the ammo to the side, I'll sort the bullets out to their respective compatible arms later." She was silent. "You aren't afraid of me because I use guns are you?"

"No."

"Are you afraid of guns?"

"I'm not afraid of anything." She still wasn't looking at me and I saw the little shudders she'd picked up since we'd started this conversation.

"Have you ever handled a gun before?"

"No."

"Well, I'll have to teach you, I get the feeling you're gonna need to learn how to use 'em out here."

She was silent again. I considered trying to goad more conversation out of her, but decided against it, and went back to the task at hand. I could barely keep my eyes open by the time I got all of the supplies and items sorted into appropriate saddle bags, I would properly equip myself with armor in the morning. I didn't want to risk another day with only my magic barding to save my flanks from a fire fight. I wondered dimly if I would be able to fashion anything for the children and set my head against the duffel bag full of extra, empty saddle bags.

* * *

The feel of my lover was always overwhelming, I moaned to him my pleasure and I shuddered at the delicious sound of his whimpering response. He bucked into me furiously as I continued to push back slowly, I could tell by his pitch and desperation he was reaching his breaking point, which only served to bring mine closer...

Razzle woke me up by kicking me in the head. “You really make a lot of noise when you’re sleeping." She said with a dirty glare.

I mumbled something half-heartedly, not even forming the idea of words, and yawned, blinking deliberately. I stretched and flexed slowly before sitting up and wiping the drool from my face with the back of one unshorn fetlock. My brain sluggishly took its time warming up, placing my thoughts. I wanted more than ever just to return to the dream, but as reality slowly dawned I tried to bury the fact that he was long since dead.

Oh sure, I could try to invent solutions that he managed to survive somehow, the way I did. I knew better, of course, I'd lost him even before the end of the war. I still remembered waking up to learn the news his base had been destroyed in a savage surprise attack from a Zebra strike team. I had just seen him the night before, breaching all of my nondisclosure regulations just to see him, after however long I'd spent in the asylum, and then recovering from the experiment. We'd fought actually, he was upset that I'd disappeared, and I was a complete wreck because of the experiment's unexpected psychological side effects.

The grief of losing him might have destroyed me, especially amidst the strain the experiment had inflicted on me, but Rarity passed me off to Rainbow Dash, who found a use for a pony such as I, in no small part because I was already broke. She used my pain to dismantle me, and then rebuilt me as something more. It was rather like the time spent in officer's training when I'd been commissioned into service, but only so much as a swimming pool is like the ocean. Becoming a Shadowbolt was probably the only thing that saved me.

But sometimes, even a Shadowbolt had to dream. I imagined that maybe he was actually in a prototype stasis pod. Or maybe he's one of those ghouls, I thought with morbid irony. That’d be real sexy, a dried up and dessicated walking corpse. It'd be like a dog's well chewed stick. Well there’s always... No. The whole universe, hell even just the world, there are more important ponies than my coltfriend to track down. Hell, if He were even around, the world probably wouldn’t even be in this state. Still there was that mystery of the disappearing hoofprints...

“So, we need to get to civilization before the Griffin chick dies.” Razzle snapped me out of my idealistic daydreams. It was better to leave dead as dead and deal with it later, when I was alone. I couldn’t afford to break down now. I mean, we were soldiers, we knew we’d probably die somehow. Hell, I’d seen personally plenty of other ponies I’d cared for ripped to shreds by bullet fire, grenades, IEDs and every other horror of war. There was a reason I’d been demoted...

And here I was feeling sorry for myself when I was sitting here with three examples of how the worst of Equinity could treat those more vulnerable than myself. “Right, so which way is civilization? You mentioned last night that we were far from Fillydelphia, how far?”

“About a month’s travel northeast.” Razzle snorted. “Nearest settlement is a few hours west. I already fed the little ones.”

“Okay, I’ll just be the packmule, I’ll fly us there and you lead the way?”

It took awhile for us to get our bearings from the sky and find the rutted little wagon road to follow, but we found an inn about an hour and a half away. The flight had been more demanding than I'd been expecting, my endurance was nowhere near where it used to be. In flight school, I'd been on the school track team with Soarin' of the Wonderbolts fame and used to smoke him at long distance races. Well, almost, sometimes, on a good day. Of course, that was until he'd gotten distracted by a pie, or maybe it was a filly in the stands and he'd accidentally knocked me into a thundercloud. I quit the team after that, recovering had taken longer than my final track season anyway. Then again I’d imagine my stamina had remained quite good when my profession as a cartographer had taken me the length and breadth of Equestria and beyond.

I was pleased to see a few of the inn's residents were stirring when I entered, the entry way an open bar and restaurant area with stairs leading away to rooms. My stomach growling threateningly, I half shouted. "Luna damn I'm so hungry I could eat a hor-" I cut myself off realizing that such an entrance was less than tactful as the bartender leveled a shotgun at my head. It wouldn't have hurt me at this range but I didn't want to risk the scatter hitting the foals. Besides which, I was hoping to be a customer here, not an assailant.

"There are no whores here and I suggest you get out of here if you don't have any business." Her eyes were hard, resolute, but tightened with fatigue as much as worry.

I half-sighed, half-chuckled as I took a step back towards the door. "Take it easy, I mean to be a customer, I need a bath and I have a few charges to look after."

"Leave any and all weapons by the door." She motioned with the rifle towards an open closet type rack where I could see other burdens lying in neat piles. Carefully, I unburdened my bags of armament trying not to disturb my more precious cargo.

"So, how many caps for a hot bath, and -" I paused calculating in my head. "Fo- no three meals, no maybe just start with two." I didn't want to risk overfeeding the starved children, I could always order more if they needed it.

"We only have lukewarm baths here, but the water's clean." The bartender said warily, slowly setting down the shotgun. "Two hundred caps."

I turned to reach into the bag I was carrying the caps in when I heard a shrill voice over my shoulder demand. "Eighty, and not a cap more."

"One seventy five." The bartender replied, eyes narrowing at the fuschia filly on my back.

"Ninety five." Razzle continued.

"Razzle, you're standing on my head." I pointed out, bemused by the exchange. She kicked me in response and I shut up and let her do the talking.

"One sixty."

"One hundred."

"One forty."

"One ten."

"One twenty five or I'll toss you out."

Razzle was silent for a moment before responding with a shrug. "Fine. Indigo, pay the mare. We could stay at a whorehouse tonight and get double the treatment for half the costs, but I know you're in a hurry." She snorted.

I counted out the number, glad I'd separated them into smaller bundles instead of just tossing them all together, and wondered at the assertiveness of the filly.

"That foal's a real pistol." The bartender mused.

I shrugged. "She's precocious, that's for sure." I looked back at the bar. "How much for a bottle of your strongest, and no, I don't care if it tastes like paint thinner."

"Well, I could give you the rotgut we make for just that purpose, but if you have interest in the finer things we do have one almost full bottle of Wild Pegasus on hand."

I considered my options. "Well, let me eat and think about it."

I raised my head as I heard one of the occupants emerging. I was a little surprised to see he was a griffin, middle to old age as near as I could tell, grizzled and combat ready. I couldn't believe my luck. I approached him, digging out the griffin chick. "Sir, would you happen to know anything about raising fledglings?"

His eyes nearly popped out of his head, I couldn't tell if it was shock, rage or indignation as he demanded. "How did you capture a griffin chick?!" I was suddenly very glad that the Inn instituted a no weapons rule, as I was fairly certain he would have blown my head off, as it was, I saw his talons dig into the floorboards.

Chuckling nervously I shrugged. "I found it in a ruined slaver caravan with this one." I nodded to Razzle, and then reaching into my other bag producing the colt I'd come to call blueberry. "and this one."

"Found them." His eyes were narrowed to slits. Yep, he definitely would have killed me if we'd met outside.

"Fifty caps and the chick is yours." Razzle offered. He was so transfixed on the filly with apoplectic rage that he didn't notice my jaw drop, having my turn to feel shock and indignation.

Finally, he responded. "Fifty, for a useless slave? I'll give you fifteen"

"Forty five."

"Twenty five."

Razzle was quiet, thinking it over. "I like you, how about thirty."

"Fine. Thirty." He glared for a moment more, and then in a quick, jerky moment, pulled out a small pouch. He dropped it on a nearby table, and counted out the caps while Razzle watched closely, counted them for herself, and then put them away for me.

"Indigo, hand it over."

"She will no longer be an it-slave and I will raise her to be an honorable contractor. Like me, she will be trained especially in how to destroy slavers and raiders." If looks could kill. I did my best to remain impassive as he traveled to the door to collect his gear.

"Um, I ordered a few meals and was meaning to share some of it with the chick..."

"A griffin does not require pony food." And then he was out the door. I heard him take off with a few powerful snaps of his wings, and then I made my way back over to the bar.

"I don't much approve of slavers, but I have no rules against it. That said you're to leave as soon as you finish your bath and meal."

"Okay." I was still processing the fact that Razzle, and by proxy, I, had just sold another living being as if it, no she, were a piece of merchandise.

As she was preparing our meal the Innkeeper was accompanied by another mare and the two muttered under their breath, giving me occassional dirty looks. Eventually, the newcomer served the plates as I finished setting the foals up to share their meal, hoping that they would eat a reasonable amount but not too much. The waitress lingered for a moment before asking in a low tone. "Are they for sale as well too?" I nearly spat out the lettuce leaf I'd just taken into my mouth, but stopped, and slowly chewed it before swallowing tightly.

"Umm, I'll need to think about it." I flashed Razzle a stricken look but the filly's face was unreadable as she looked after Blueberry. "We'll finish our bath first."

"I'd really rather not continue the whole slavery business." I told Razzle after we entered the room.

"You need the caps."

"And, I mean... I really would rather you be free to be your own pony."

She snorted derisively. "What so I can wander the wasteland alone long enough to get killed, raped, and/or captured again?!"

"I-I didn't mean..."

"Look, I know you mean well, but it's safer for me as somepony's property. Nopony respects a foal, but sometimes ponies respect other ponies enough not to mess with their property."

"So... what do you want then?" I'd started to remove the baggage and makeshift barding as I set Blueberry down to scoot around the room at his own volition.

She looked at me, quiet for a moment, I could see the wheels turning in her head. "Those two mean to adopt us. They can't have foals of their own, so they wouldn't mind taking some secondhand. They'll raise us as their own, but they'll still expect us to work at running the inn with them." She shrugged. "But if you really want to know, as much as I don't want to wander the wastelands alone again, I don't much like settling down in a provincial region trying to scrape together two bits off of loners and vagabonds."

"You want to be a wanderer then?" I asked with a ghost of a smile.

"I can be of use to you, we've already established you have no idea what you're doing and I can't count on somepony else being as naive as you." As if to prove her usefulness she reached up towards the clasp of my harness. As reflex I sidestepped and slapped her hoof away with a wing. Her eyes lowered as she withdrew. "I guess you don't trust me that much, huh?"

I laughed weakly and agreed. "No, not quite that much. Yet." I added meaningfully, giving her a reassuring nudge.

"How does that magical armor work, it's got a lot of gems and all but I don't see any spark batteries or big enough talismans for what I've seen it do."

"Top secret." I responded, picking up Blueberry and heading to the bath. She followed me with an interested look. I sighed a little inside. I really didn't want her getting too curious about it, but I wasn't about to let her know just how vulnerable it made me either. Not for the first time I wondered if I could get a lock installed over the clasp. I didn't have anyone to answer to anymore that would need to access it.

***

"I can't believe I let you trade Blueberry for a bottle of booze." Razzle groaned as we flew on to the nearest settlement.

"What? You said yourself it was a good deal." It had been fine whiskey, if not for the filly I would be nursing the bottle now, but I'd contented myself to just a taste back at the bar.

"I feel like we just sold my little brother to support your alcoholism."

"He's not actually your little brother is he?"

"Don't think so, not that I would know anyway, but he was actually the son of that mare you killed in front of the foal cage."

"W-what?!" I stopped flapping to look back at her.

"I told you ponies sell their own children." She said with a little shrug.

"So when you said that they'd raise him as their own..."

"Oh come on, they're innkeepers not slavers. He's of more use to them amusing customers and eventually sweeping, waiting tables, cooking and serving patrons, than he would be in caps. I'm still surprised that they accepted all our offers, I expected the bath and meals to be no less than one fifty and I didn't think I'd get twenty out of the griffin. And just so you know, the bottle of Wild P is worth a lot more than a toddler slave. They really wanted to have a baby."

"Well, my whole life has been a moral grey area, no time to stop being amoral now I guess."

"Psh, you still have standards. You haven't sold me for sex yet."

"Or tried to force it on you." I added.

"I'd like to see you try honestly."

"It strikes me that this conversation just got awkward."

"Well, I'm the one riding you anyway."

"Change of subject, you realize that ethics and morals are different right?"

“What do you mean? Aren’t those just different words for goody two shoes stuff?”

“Not really, it’s not so one dimensional as good and bad, and especially given that different cultures, and different ponies, all have different opinions of what’s right and wrong, it’s insufficient to lump it all into one thing. Morals are basically what you would consider the base level of expectation from Equine decency. It’s what you think ponies should and ought to do. The next layer, societally speaking is usually the Law, it’s a little more specialized than morals, obviously, in order to be legislated, so, while morally it would be wrong to say, steal a pencil, legally, no pony would really care and you’d probably be written up for a frivolous police report for reporting a stolen pencil.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense, what about ethics."

“Ethics are usually a personal moral code, it is usually stricter than general morals, but although I like to think that I hold myself to a higher standard with my ethics, not every pony does. Especially ponies in positions of power tend to have stricter moral expectations of others, even while violating those tenets themselves. Ponies have a tendency to believe what they’ve been told about themselves, for better or worse. One who is raised with affirmations of their intellect and good looks will be confident, somepony who is belittled as simple minded and plain will more likely need encouragement to accomplish anything. It varies of course, most of these criticisms and flattery are often false. In the examples I made, the former pony might actually be rather homely with no common sense, the latter brilliant and too shy to smile or meet anypony’s gaze, but I feel that at the end of the day we are what we believe ourselves to be. I often think that reality is what we choose it to be, but consensual reality is a bit of a digression from morals and ethics.” I trailed off.

“So what do you make of the wastelands so far?”

“A lot of scared and desperate ponies. I may not approve of the way they’re behaving, but I may be able to understand where they’re coming from. You really can’t hold ignorance against someone, we all are in some way or another, but choosing to remain ignorant is another thing entirely. I had a teacher once who put it this way ‘There is nothing wrong with being ignorant; there’s something wrong with staying that way’. I know it’s naive of me, but I’m hoping I can help educate ponies, raise awareness and understanding of other ways of living. It will be hard, and I don’t have all the information I would like to start remediating a world torn asunder, but you have to start somewhere.”

“How long do you think you’ll last?”

“I have no idea, I’m flighty on a good day, and finishing a project is always harder than starting one. For now I still need to figure out what kind of approach I’m taking. It’s hard to reach ponies though, and you can’t help those who don’t want help. Sometimes all you can do is just put it out there and walk away. A lot of ponies can’t handle that, especially the ones who only want to help out of a misguided savior complex that they can save the world. But I don’t want to save the world, I want the world to save itself, and if I’m lucky I can save a few ponies along the way. I don’t want to be in history books or have my name carved in stone, I want to go quietly into the earth and sleep knowing I did the best I could. If you want anything more out of life, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. Keep it simple. Find out who you are, and what you want to do, don’t let other ponies dictate your life, your priorities or your terms for you. I mean, you have to make sacrifices and compromises on the way, but figure out your boundaries ahead of time. Of course, I’m not sure I need to teach you how to bargain.”

“What makes you so sure I need teaching at all?”

I looked back at her with amusement. “Everypony has something to teach, everypony can learn something new every day if only she keeps her eyes and ears open.”

“What about stupid ponies?”

“We’re all stupid ponies. It’s only by doing stupid things that we can learn from our mistakes, and sometimes we accidentally stumble over a breakthrough. Life is about moving, you might backtrack, you might get lost, you may go in circles for awhile, but the important thing is to avoid getting stuck in a rut. The rut may be comfortable, and seem easier that pushing on, and sometimes you just need a break, but you have to keep moving or you lose it.”

And so we discussed the differing stances of laws, ethics and morals and tried to guess where we fell along these axes whilst we closed the distance to our next destination.

Author's Note

I have no idea how well this will be received, as there's nothing but OCs for the majority of the story and is predicated on a lot of what is fanon at best, but I'm hoping for a tone somewhere between Project Horizons and Pink Eyes, a bit harder and edgier than the original Fallout Equestria but not quite as brutal as Project Horizons.

Hopefully I don't throw off too many people by starting with my main character being overpowered and slowly getting more beaten as time goes on instead of the usual weak pony to immortal progression.

There's also going to be a lot of weird time stuff as Indigo struggles with adapting to the world of the future.

These chapters are also ten times the length of the other fic chapters I usually write, so even though I have a bit of a headstart, I'm probably going to upload once a month. We'll see how I'm doing in six months.

Bearing Virtue

“A journey of a thousand miles may start with a single step, but it helps if you know where you’re going”

The town was rough. We'd broken into prairie from the woods, and Razzle suggested we enter on hoof rather than by wing. As we neared the ramshackle collection of haphazard shelters, I saw sentries watching us through rifle sights. My wings were tucked beneath my barding and Razzle walked below and just behind me, announcing her intent to utilize me as a meat shield in the case of trouble. At the gates, I announced my intentions of trading, staying at the inn overnight and seeking employment on the morrow. They informed us of the town's rules, and we were allowed to enter.

Thanks to Razzle's immaculate bargaining skills, we made a fair profit from the extra munitions and supplies. Despite earlier jests about staying in one of the brothels, we set up at a humble inn to better preserve our resources. It had been a long day and we were eager to rest as the next day would likely be tougher, looking for any open contracts or failing that; planning our travel to another settlement with better odds for employment.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my bladder insistent. I regretted the decision to give myself a nightcap of the delicious whiskey and hurried to the little fillies' room with great haste, yet attempting stealth so as not to wake the actual little filly in my room.

Relieved, I stepped out of the outhouse, and was quite startled to find myself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Don't scream." A rough voice ordered.

I did the only thing I could think of doing.

I screamed.

The gunshot was very loud.

***

I woke up on a bed in a strange room. Usually, when people tell you not to scream it's because they're afraid of notifying the authorities of their shenanigans and they don't want to risk any extra sounds or attention. They generally don't shoot. It was a miscalculation on my part, and I was very fortunate it was a gamble that I could afford to take.

"What th' hell?" A voice said from entirely too close behind me. I sharply pulled my legs up to my body and looked back at the voice. He was a roan unicorn stallion and it looked to me that he didn't mind if a mare was lifeless and missing a chunk of her skull. His readiness was all too evident so I kicked at it in response before drawing myself up, and flaring my wings. He recovered quicker than I was expecting and I turned my body just in time to watch his telepathy raise his pistol to my head and fire again.

***

I was very surprised when I woke up again to find myself looking down at my own body. My dead, naked body. I looked down further to see that I was no longer myself. I smirked, it'd been theorized but never tested. The bandit had no doubt recognized after the second time that my armor had flashed in an attempt to stop the accelerating bullet and must have pieced together its link to my regeneration. He'd been clever.

Luckily, not clever enough to realize that I was the armor, rather than just a pony with really neat armor. I was relieved to see his interest in my harness had been greater than his interest in my body, and started considering my plans as I tucked my lifeless corpse into a sheet, tying it up to be easier to carry. I was a little dubious how I was to extricate myself from this situation. I was pretty sure I could think my way through dragging my body out back to dispose of, but how was I supposed to get the harness off of this stallion and then, how would it get back on my body if I would be inert as soon as I unfastened the harness? Worse, he would regain control of his body then, and I doubt his first course of action would be getting me dressed back up. I was jolted out of my reverie by yet another gunshot to my head, as his consciousness faded, I caught a glimpse of Razzle, wide eyed, terrified, crying, with the comically oversized pistol in her small mouth.

***

"Boss why's all the gunshots? Ain't the bitch already dead." A colt asked, poking his head through the door. I did my best to keep the ruins of the stallion's head turned away and thanked my lucky stars his coat was already blood red. I hoped his mane covered the entry wound. Razzle was frozen in terror, pistol at her hooves, still hiding under a dresser.

"Ish fine." I slurred.

The guard laughed. "Yeah, guess you had a few more out of excitement. I'll leave you to your... business." He said with a smirk at the tied up form of my dead body and turned around closing the door.

I waited for his footsteps to fade out of earshot before I turned back to Razzle, she was backing away starting to lift the pistol back up.

"Razzle, please, don't shoot, it's me, Indigo." She fired again, and it was blackness for another while.

***

She was curled up against my corpse crying, stroking my fur quietly. "This is my fault, I should have been more alert, I should have known that we'd be at risk for robbery."

I glanced around the room and was glad to see that the pistol still lay on the floor. There was going to be no easy way of doing this. I covered her mouth with one hoof and did my best to hold her to my new body while she struggled. "And you said that other ponies would respect another pony's property." I said quietly, hoping she might recognize the reference. "Do you remember how I said I didn't trust you enough to tell you how my armor worked, well, now is as good a time as ever to tell you. This guy figured it out, sort of. You did too, probably a little better. He didn't think to question why it didn't have a visible powersource or independent talismans. That's because it doesn't run on standard power."

She'd grown very still and was staring up at me with a mixture of fear and disbelief. I took a chance and released her. She dropped out of my grasp slowly, and backed away, eyes flicking from me, to my body then to the pistol on the floor.

I tapped the emerald on my chest. "This is where I, Indigo Breeze, really live, this is where my soul is housed. That's just my body, and while I'd really like to get back into it, if I take off my harness now, the guy who this body belongs to is going to wake up and have control again." In truth he'd been awake the whole time, well, except the parts where his brains had been blown out.

The door opened again, fortunately my body shielded Razzle from view. "Boss you really need to stop shooting, the guards are getting suspicious and if they catch wise they'll want their cut of the profit. We still need to get back to that bitch's room at the inn, and take all her shit."

"Okay fine."

"You're acting really strange all the sudden boss, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, I'll stop shooting, just get out and leave me to getting my kicks the way I like 'em."

"Whatever you say boss." He left the room again, but I could hear he didn't go far and I heard low voices coming from adjoining rooms.

"Shit, they know something's wrong." I went back to fussing with the sheet that contained my body. "Razzle, how'd you get in here anyway? How did you find me?"

"I woke up when you went out to piss, and I watched you, then I saw those guys surround the outhouse, and then...." She stopped, and looked back at me suspiciously, tears welling up in her eyes. "Then they shot you.... and, I followed them when they dragged you back here."

"Okay... but... how did you get in."

"I'm little, I can climb real well and I know how to pick locks."

"Do you now? I may have a plan..."

"I hope it's a good plan."

"It's not. For now, we're going to get out of here with my body, take it some place safe. Then we're going to figure out how to get my stuff back and how to make these fuckers pay."

"That sounds like a very stupid plan."

"I am not a clever pony." I smiled grimly, finished bundling my own corpse. "Hop up, it's time to make our escape." As Razzle gripped my shoulders I ducked my head and grabbed the knot of the sheet.

There was nothing I despised more than having to taste my own blood.

As the gang members rushed into their leader's room, guns drawn they were greeted by the image of him perched in the window sill, dressed in a mare's lingerie, with a filly on his back and a dead mare poking out of a sheet hanging from his teeth. The sight stunned them just long enough for me to grin and leap from the ledge, high tailing it out of town as fast as one could expect of such an encumbered stallion. It took awhile before they gathered up the nerve to start shooting and by then I had enough of a head start to disappear into the woods.

* * *

"Allright, Razzle, pay close attention to the way my harness fits, while everything depends on the clasp above my shoulders, if it doesn't fit right or gets twisted it won't work right and I can't very easily take it off and adjust it myself. You might want to look away as I shoot this guy so he'll stay down after you take my armor off, but you're going to have to learn to deal with the sight one way or another. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and while she'd taken control of her sniffles, her eyes were still watery and I could tell that this was an entirely different sort of trauma than she'd had to cope with in the past.

I turned the gun around, placing it in my mouth and considered how it measured up to all the fantasies I'd had of doing so during earlier depressive points of my life. I'd never attempted suicide, but the ideations had sometimes been pretty vivid. I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger.

***

"Oh Razzle, I'm so sorry." I swept her into an embrace, she was covered in blood and shaking, but I was back in my own body and my harness was fitting correctly. "Now then, do you feel ready to do some aerial recon or would you rather stay here and wait for me?" In all honesty, I shouldn't have asked, I should have just left her there in the clearing and taken care of the messy business myself, but somehow I felt it would only be delaying the inevitable.

She sniffled, nodded and stated. "Let's go."

We'd talked about it before the transfer of my harness what the best approach would be, after we had finally agreed that leaving our gear behind wasn't an option. Not just for our wealth of caps, but we wouldn't have made it to the next town without provisions, much less without barding or weapons as was so brutally proven to us this night. I was lucky that it was a dark night out, I would cast no shadow as I circled above, and given that the sentries hardly glanced around, much less up, I felt fairly confident they would not be watching for my silhouette against the cloudy sky.

"I wish I had a paper and pencil, I hate drawing from memory." I grumbled.

I discussed with Razzle what the layout of the buildings were as well as the best routes of entrance, escape and infiltration. The sentries didn't seem to have structured routes. While a few late night drug deals and prostitutions were transpiring, as well as some expected night owls, everyone going about their businesses quietly. It was nighttime, and the town was fairly settled down. Apparently stray gunshots were not terribly uncommon, as shooting cans was one of the few forms of entertainment available outside of whores, drugs and drinks. I wondered at the waste of ammo but wasn't going to question it.

After I felt we had a solid understanding of the layout I asked. "So, should we fly back out to lay out our plan or should we just stick to a snatch and grab?"

"We should move quickly, before they disorder our stuff too much."

"They might still be counting it out and divvying out. We don't want to charge in and get in the middle of a firefight. As you've seen, my harness doesn't do shit point blank." I chewed my lip.

"Drop me off on the roof and let me go in first. Wait for me up here, I'll be back in five to tell you what it looks like inside."

"What if you aren't back in five?"

"Charge in and get in the middle of a firefight. You'll be able to handle it better than I will, point blank or no."

"This really is a terrible plan."

"Better than your original one."

"Well, in hindsight of course a single mare and a filly can't fight an entire town and loot everything that's not bolted down."

"Give it time, maybe when I'm a full grown mare we can do it."

"I bet we will." I touched down gently on the roof, and then flattened myself down in case the sentries were looking for rooftop travelers. "Good luck." I whispered.

She nuzzled me and muttered a reassurance, then slipped over the edge of the rain gutter into a dark, open window.

It was only after she was gone that I remembered that I had a terrible sense of time, and spent what felt almost like eternity alternately fidgeting and attempting to remain completely still. I settled on preening my feathers. I was startled out of my grooming by a small "Oof." and a thump. I looked up and saw a bag thrown over the edge of the roof from another angle. Carefully, I crept over as another joined it. Razzle threw up a third bag and then emerged carrying a fourth in her teeth. Spitting it out with a grin she scolded me. "That was more like ten minutes you know."

"Sorry."

"Don't be, I've been petrified the last few minutes that you were going to blow the whole thing by storming in after me. That's why I picked the room farthest from the one I came in to start hauling stuff out. They're all passed out, I'm afraid that they've drunk all your whiskey."

"Those fiends! I ought to slit all their throats while they're sleeping."

"You really ought to." She said with a thin smile that made me a little uneasy.

"Well, let's get back what we can first." I noticed that she'd grabbed the provisions and caps first. "We need the barding and guns, if they aren't too scattered out."

"Your barding and guns." she snorted. I hadn't noticed until now that she was wearing her lightweight protection. We'd bought it earlier and it'd been the only thing near her size, I'd worried about the relative lack of protection but she assured me it was perfect. I could tell now that it was better suited for her stealth operations. I wondered how long it might be before she'd decide to take matters into her own hands when it came to slitting throats and shuddered. A cold tendril of guilt welled up as I reminded myself what I was encouraging a child towards. As she slipped down again I wondered how old she really was. In some ways she still seemed so young, but I already knew she was older than she looked, and older still than her years by way of experience.

As I refitted myself with barding and our equipment, I was a little underwhelmed. Sure it'd been tense, but everything had gone so smoothly. Too smoothly, I felt. I fidgeted, wondering how long she'd been down for the last sweep of the house. I rather suspected that at this point she was looting, if she had not already begun to do so in previous runs. She told me what was sorted into where, but I was feeling weighed down a bit more than I remembered checking into my room with.

I sighed with relief as she reappeared, beaming, wearing saddlebags herself with her mouth full of a bag that jingled faintly. I took a few steps towards rejoining her, and that was when the roof gave way below me.

Although most of the bandits were indeed passed out from drinking, it was far from all of them, and I'd just fallen into a rather heated poker match.

"Er, greetings fellas, deal me in?" I grinned brokenly, trying to count my assailants and recover my balance from the fall, and whether or not I could leap back through the hole I'd fallen through. I flexed my wings, relieved that they were undamaged.

They were paused for only a moment to take in the situation and then they reached for their weapons. Razzle startled me by dropping onto my back and I bolted for the door. Not pausing to open it, I reared back and went right through it into the hallway. Razzle was gripping my neck for dear life, then started guiding me with her hooves, tugging my mane and kicking my sides in the right direction. Shouting and gunshots quickly followed us, so again, I didn't pause as I barreled straight through a room and subsequently, a plate glass window. I gritted my teeth against the broken shards and flapped for all I was worth. I barely managed to make the rooftops and I continued half running half flying, leaping from one building to the next, praying that Razzle was okay.

* * *

"This map is shit." I muttered as we reviewed the plans for our journey by the light of a small campfire later that night. Razzle said nothing, munching some trail rations, and leaning up against me. Somehow, we had gotten through it all without serious injury. Well, at least, she did. It'd been an exciting couple of days for sure. I was optimistic and content that the filly had grown to trust me, certain now that mine was not misplaced in her. So far, she had guided me fairly straightforwardly.

"You're weird." She muttered disinterestedly.

"Yeah, map snobbery is a bit of a strange one. At least I didn't end up doing anything really strange, I almost went to taxidermy school." I laughed, wondering what kind of weird life I'd be living if every time I'd visited a Griffin hunting lodge I'd be critiquing their trophies. "Then again, I'm an animated corpse, in a post apocalyptic future." I shrugged. "Strange is subjective I guess, but then, so's everything."

"So you talked about earlier on the morals vs ethics discussion."

"Yes, yes, good talk." It was nice to talk to someone. Razzle was easy to talk to, quick to snap me out of digressions and tangents that weren't relevant, interesting, or productive. Eventually, I was going to have to break down and find someone to talk to about other things, but for now, it was good to run my internal monologues against someone. I'd spent entirely too much of my life alone inside my own head. Sure it let me write more and work on projects and things, but just as often it left me crying and depressed for days. It was surprising I ever got myself in control enough to pass through basic training. I yawned, stretched and then stood up. "I'm off to have business in the bushes, I'll try not to get my head blown off again."

"You do that, I'll make sure no one steals all our stuff again."

"You're a terrific little miser."

After I walked far enough away and answered the call of nature, I thought I heard a mechanical whirring in the near distance. I knew I should have gone back to camp and alerted Razzle, but I just suddenly felt restless, deciding to go for a little bit more of a stroll to give myself a proper cool down after the exertions of the day. The sound was familiar, but didn't trigger any feelings of real danger, perhaps a touch of unease. Mostly, I was just curious.

"Of course, it's a Sprite-bot!" I remembered, upon seeing the hovering spherical robot. It was quiet, which made me wonder if it was broken, I wondered if Razzle knew anything about electronics. I'd always been interested in them and always intended to start learning more about them. Maybe one day to be able to build and repair them myself, but, there seemed to be awfully little working technology about. Little things here and there still functioned, often cobbled together with extensive jury rigging, but not a lot seemed intact. But then what would after surviving multiple balefire and megaspell bombs dropping?

"Indigo?!" The voice was flat and mechanical, but somehow seemed familiar.

"A talking sprite-bot that knows my name. Not that I'm surprised, I'm sure Pinkie had a file on me."

"Indigo Breeze?" It repeated. "Is it really you?"

"In the flesh. A lot's happened in the last two days. Oh, and the last two hundred years apparently. I'm surprised to see one of these things running. Who's talking through this thing?" It was still moving around looking at me. I wasn't holding very still, turning to keep my eyes on it.

"You can call me The Watcher."

"Kinky, but seriously, you know my name, you know me, tell me yours, because as far as I'm aware everyone I knew two hundred years ago is as dead as m- as everything else in Equestria." I'd almost slipped. I'd already gotten so used to joking with Razzle about my mortality that I'd forgotten that people weren't really supposed to know.

"Tell me how you survived then, you don't look like a ghoul. Did you get into a stasis pod somewhere?"

"Something like that."

"You look different."

"Well, I bet you do too. You a ghoul maybe? Just somepony that I used to know?" I tried to recall who I knew that worked with technology enough to have this kind of system, but couldn't think of anypony in specific and two hundred years had been more than enough for anypony to learn.

"Not exactly."

"Well, I don't see why I should be so forthcoming if you won't be."

"W-well, I didn't really know you very well, we barely met in passing, in Ponyville."

"Well, we both know that I was pretty out of my head in Ponyville. You'll forgive me if I might not remember you so well either."

"Oh, I think you'll remember me."

"A lot of people think that, nothing more awkward than sitting at a party or just out and about and staring at someone's face, nodding blankly before awkwardly asking if you know them."

"It's been awhile since I've had that experience."

"Please, stop being so vague, just give me a name or a general description."

"Well, I suppose it's worth warning you that I'm not a pony."

I tried to think back what kinds of nonponies lived in Ponyville when I dropped in. Well, Watcher wasn't speaking in rhymes so it certainly wasn't Zecora, who I hadn't met formally I now realized, and felt a little twinge of discomfort remembering what had happened to her. There were a couple of Donkeys, or were they living there yet? There was a herd of cows... But there wasn't really any of that accent that cows tended to have.

"I'll give you a hint." Watcher sounded as if it/she/he were bored now. "I'm a dragon."

"Spike?!" I jumped in surprise.

"Not so loud."

"Right right, losing a friend's trust yadda yadda FOR EVER!" I had only barely met the baby dragon at my own get well party my first night in Ponyville. I'd been surprised that an impromptu party for a stranger had been so packed, but then that was what Pinkie had done best. I smiled bitterly, times hadn't been kind. "You must be pretty big now huh?"

"Yeah, most ponies freak out when they meet me for the first time." The voice was scrambled, electronically monotoned, but it still felt like he seemed sad.

"So where do you dwell these days?"

"Pretty far north of where you're at, and a bit further west."

"Well, I guess I'll have to make a trip out your way then. I'm heading north-ish. Just looking for work for now, I've got enough caps to live on for a bit, but I need something to do, and I want to learn more about this world I woke up in."

"Was anypony else with you when you woke up?"

"No, it was deserted."

"Oh." The electronic modulation be dammned, that was a sad voice.

"So what do you do these days? Aside from spy on ponies pissing?" I continued, changing the subject.

"Oh, I... Hey, I wasn't watching you pee! I waited for you to finish before I tried to get a better look at you." He defended indignantly. Then remembering the question he continued. "It's kind of a secret, but you might be qualified to know... I'm looking for the elements of harmony!"

"Neat... but... two hundred years? Are you sure they still exist?" It sounded less than optimistic to me, but then, Twilight had found them after they'd been gone for 1000 years, but they hadn't even really been lost then, just hidden.

"Well, that I'm less sure about. I know where the old necklaces and the tiara are... I just... I need to find the right ponies to bear the elements."

"Yeah, hasn't been an abundance of friendship magic so far, but then I've only been out here for two days."

"Two days?"

"Yeah, I said that already right? I had a run in with the Enclave, inadvertently destroyed an encampment of Red Eye Slavers, and got robbed in the first town I found, and then pulled off a heist to get my stuff back. I'm going back on the road tomorrow, better equipped and a bit more alert. Then like I said, hopefully get a job or a few contracts or something that catches my fancy and explore what's left in the world."

"Most ponies that come out of the Stables don't last a day. I've tried to help out a few of them, like I said I'm looking for good ponies to be element bearers, but it's hard to find anypony that's not already steeped in wasteland cruelty and apathy. The Stables are my best bet as the ponies there are usually given at least a modicum of education and order."

"Bah order's overrated, and I don't see how that's an advantage when plunged into chaos such as this. I mean, I was a soldier, and pretty good one at that so I can get by." This made me think for a second. "So, how do you help them out?"

"I tell them to get weapons, armor, and to make friends, and give them suggestions on what to do and where to go and wait and see how they handle themselves." He sounded almost proud of himself.

"So, you don't actually provide them with anything, or information on tactics... do you even explain to them how to make friends?" I was a little less than impressed.

"Everyone knows how to make friends Indigo." He insisted matter of factually.

I laughed at that, bitterly. "Spike, do you even remember what the letter was about regarding my stay in Ponyville? And I seem to remember that Twilight and Company didn't all start off on the right hoof. Even Pinkie was overbearing and drove a lot of ponies off by being so forward. Dash was kind of a cad, Rarity came off as snooty, Applejack was xenophobic, Fluttershy couldn't talk-"

"Enough, Indigo."

Oh, I'd hurt his feelings. Case in point. "Maybe you should try to teach ponies about the elements? A gospel of sorts, .... I've always wanted to start a cult, I bet I can proselytize a good news packet about embracing the Magic of Friendship."

"Indigo, you're crazy." He groaned.

"Of course." I grinned madly.

"But it might work." He admitted thoughtfully.

"And even if it doesn't, it sounds like fun." I speculated. "I wonder if I should have some form of uniform or something, I know there's a few priests who teach about Luna and Celestia as goddesses they wear these collars and stuff. Maybe a cloak...."

"I'm going to go now."

"Okay, maybe I'll go draw up some designs before I go to sleep..." I muttered as I started to turn away.

"When did you start designing clothes and stuff?"

"I started reading superhero comics and I occasionally bumped into Rarity." I shrugged. "Anyway, I should get to sleep, Razzle will start worrying that I," I paused, it seemed like I would have to learn all over again to watch what I was saying. "Got into trouble."

"So you already made a friend then did you?" He sounded smug.

"Sort of. She's kind of my slave." I responded nonchalantly.

"WHAT!?"

"Yeah, she insisted so whatever. I convinced her to take the collar off though." I toyed with the idea of egging him on more by telling him I'd sold two other children, but decided he was worked up enough. "Well, you said you were going, and I need to get to sleep, so, ta ta for now." I was probably going to regret it later, but that was ever the way of life, and I'd gotten a few clever one liners out of it so it wasn't all bad.

"And to think that I'd been considering showing you to my hideout to see if you could be an element bearer." I think that maybe it'd been an attempt to hurt my feelings or shame me, but I'd known for a long time that I wasn't element bearer material.

"Even in the good old days there were only six ponies out of thousands who were worthy of the elements of Harmony. I like you Spike, but I don't think you're quite as crafty as old Celestia was... and even she couldn't handle this mess...." I added the last as an afterthought, feeling my wings droop. I knew that I had only just started to learn what the world had become, but I remembered just how quickly things had fallen apart even back then. Nopony could fix everything alone, nor dragon for that matter. And how was one to inspire anypony else to action? I sighed. "But, I'll do what I can to help, see if I can find anypony else who could possibly be a paradigm of goodness." When I'm not shooting the rest in the head in self defense...

***

The first thing I saw after coming through the gate was stripes. It took everything I had not to draw my rifle and start shooting. Most of the stripes I spotted were incomplete, and more interesting, their equine features were more exaggerated in a different direction. It took a moment for me to finish processing the information. "Look at all these Zonkies!" I whispered to Razzle, but given the shooty glares sent my way, not as quietly as I'd imagined.

"Nice going Indigo," the foal chided drolly. "I had no idea you were a racist."

"I'm not a racist!" I protested a little too quickly and defensively. "I've had friends of all species and..." I had the clear image of digging myself into a hole and decided to shut up before I made it my grave. Razzle was quietly laughing hysterically, rolling around on my back. I was amazed she didn't fall off, as several of the townsfolk were giving me dirty looks.

The bulletin board was full of potential job postings, recruitment posters for steel rangers, food for scrap with the Enclave’s Volunteer Corps, caravan guard positions, a law enforcement agency which roused painful memories just by proxy, and finally, a fairly nearby location with a job exterminating bloat sprites.

There were also several postings that could have been written in donkey or zebra, I knew very little of either language.

I was very curious about this exotic little town in the middle of the wastelands, surprised that there had been no mention of the differing demographic. I wondered how and to whom I could broach the subject, as I'd a sneaking suspicion such subjects weren't considered polite conversation amidst strangers. Fortunately, I found the tavern. Although it was a little early for drinking, I knew from experience that the most interesting characters never left.

It was, as I predicted, fairly empty, but I knew I had only to wait. I could feel Razzle giving me the stink eye as I ordered a drink and a meal for what she no doubt considered an exorbitant fee, but I'd given her a fair share of her own allowance of caps, so she didn't complain about what I did with mine.

Sure enough, after I'd just started to consider refilling my second beer a stocky, hostile looking Zonkey walked into the bar, glowering with a rifle slung over his shoulder. "Watch and learn," I muttered to Razzle as I slipped up to sit on a stool next to the colt. "Hi there," I greeted him cheerfully, the right touch of cordial and flirty to catch attention. "Mind if I buy you a drink?"

"I 'ehn't innerested in workin’ gels, ‘if ya gotta ask, yeh kent afford me’ n all." He didn't so much as glance at me. I heard Razzle giggling.

"How much for information?" I saw an eye slide over to regard me and knew I was getting somewhere.

"Ah'll accept the drink, then an' only then ah'll listen to yer question, and if ah'm so inclined there affer, ah'll quote yeh a price."

I waited anxiously as he ordered and slowly started to sip the beer. Finally, he gave me a look I interpreted to mean I could begin, and carefully phrased my requests.

"I'm interested in this town's history, and general political affiliations."

"Yer a stranger here." It was a statement, and his eyes were shrewd.

"Yeah, new to these parts." I admitted.

"What do you want here?"

"I'm just passing through, looking for a job and trying not to step on anyone's hooves."

He snorted thoughtfully. "50 caps."

I dug out the requested amount while I felt him watching me. I knew the price was steep, especially for general knowledge I probably could have wheedled out of anypony, but I had tried this Zonkey's patience already and knew better than to push my luck, just as I'd kept back any witty retorts I might have uttered. I also had the feeling that the information I'd receive from a disgruntled individual would be more colorful and more likely to include interesting information beyond the basic facts. It would also help me piece together general prevailing attitudes across the wastelands and what my best approach to spread the message of harmony and friendship would be.

"Somma the firs' stables to open were the ones populated by nonponies, no doubt an attempt to test the waters with less valuable beings than you precious ponies."

He paused to gauge my reaction, but anti-pony sentiment was no new subject to me, we'd earned it, and it was never an oppressor's place to speak over the oppressed, regardless of personal feelings on the matter.

"There are conflicting opinions of what happened then. Some say when we first came out of the stables, everyone got along and worked together to build this town. Realists think the zebra and donkeys started fighting as soon as we spotted each other. Afterall, the best way to ingratiate oneself amongst ponies is to put down zebras and distance themselves from their 'uncivilized' ways. Doesn't matter anyway, everyone's a piece of shit underneath." He rubbed ruefully at the stripes on his fetlock.

"Zebras are private, our family ties are close, our tribal practices rigidly observed. Although our tribes vary considerably, we retain solidarity with our basic customs of courtesy." He paused, clearly feeling a great deal of internal conflict on the subject.

I didn't dare question him about it, though I was acutely curious as to his personal history.

"Donkeys are quite different, focused more on their extended families and by proxy their community at large. I suppose this makes them seem friendlier, and more tolerant to outsiders, because, as you'll see, outsiders will forever remain outsiders. Within their circles, the rivalries still exist, and are brought about with greater vengeance. They don't really care about collateral damage."

His glass was nearly empty, he looked at it contemplatively and then to me. "So the two groups have been in conflict for decades, the zebra stay out in the wastes, living off the land and attempting to resuscitate the wilderness. The donkeys built walls to keep zebras out. Outside the walls confrontations occur." He paused, scowling. "That's why there's so many like me." He downed the last of his mug, then stood. "As for the rest of the wastes, we don't allow caravans inside the walls, though we allow free trade of goods and services. We aren't affiliated with any but ourselves, but at the same time we haven't made ourselves anyone's enemies yet either. Roving gangs notwithstanding. Now, unless you've anything more to offer," He looked meaningfully at my pipbuck. "It's time for my guard shift to begin."

"I think I got what I paid for, sir. Have a good one." He snorted and walked off, but I got the feeling he appreciated the courtesy despite himself. I probably would have considered selling the device, as it wasn't presently functioning, but I wanted some way of recovering the data on it first.

"Well that was a neat job there Missy, 'Ol Zeke ehn't what yeh'd call partial to company." The old bartender confided as he gathered Zeke's mug.

"That so?" I asked, flipping a generous tip onto the bar. "If you're so inclined, I wouldn't mind hearing more over another round."

"You're a real sweetheart you are." He chuckled, as I smiled agreeably.

"I'm generous when I have it to give."

"Which won't be long at this rate." I heard Razzle mutter.

The bartender had heard, flicking one long ear her way before addressing her. "You're a real smart one ehn't yeh? Come sit next ta yer mam here and I'll give you a drink on the house."

Neither of us bothered to correct the assumption, but it had definitely startled us. I was, likely erroneously, prone to treating the child as an equal, and had generally stopped considering just how young she was in the view of others.

She smiled brighter than I'd ever seen and noted she was missing a tooth. "I'd like a Nuka Cola please." Her tone was also strange to me, generally she spoke in that low condescending way, modulating to harsher drive while haggling. She sounded for real like an actual child this time.

"You are a clever one." He chuckled, Nuka-colas being one of the pricier items available. "It's even cold." He winked. I knew the enchanting effect she had over us had to be an act. For one, I knew her tooth had to be missing due to an altercation, as the rest of her mouth was set with adult teeth. I doubted most would know the difference at a glance, but this coupled with the way I'd seen her change her manner to suit the situation improved my considerable estimation of her skills.

We settled in and sipped at our drinks as the bartender filled us in. "You may already have noticed that although this is a primarily Donkey settlement we've got an awful lot of Zedonks, but no Zebra allowed. Zeke's an unusual case, because while most of our hybrid children are rape-babies from Zebra attacks, Zeke was born the other way around. His dam was the tribal chief's daughter, and she insisted on keeping him. She made sure he was brought up right with proper Zebra customs. He considered himself an important member of the tribe, and mommy made sure he never thought otherwise, although even she couldn't fool him into thinking he'd be next in line for tribal leadership. Her father was insistent that she would marry a chieftain's son from a different village and produce a proper heir. Trouble was, none of the other Cheiftans, or their sons, for that matter, had any interest in a mare that's been sullied by an ass. Especially not when she let her bastard wander around in plain sight like he was a real zebra. Eventually the Cheiftain had some luck, his wife managed to birth a son. Zeke and his mother were exiled from the tribe. It was very difficult for them to adjust, Zeke's dam was one of very few Zebras to have ever lived in this town, and her time here was not as kind as it should have been. Eventually, she took her own life. Zeke was old enough at this time to be considered an adult, so when he was unable to pay his rent, the landlords evicted him. Zeke returned to the wastelands, and no one knew what happened to him in those lost years, but when he resurfaced, he'd become an excellent sniper and although he's a mercenary, the mayor decided to pay him to join the guard force. No one quite knows why he stays here, other than that he just has no place left to go."

"How much does he get paid?" I asked casually.

The bartender gave me a long speculative look before responding simply. "More than we pay the other guards."

"I bet they aren't happy about that." I was hoping I would find out something more but the bartender merely shrugged.

"Of course not, but they aren't going to try anything again. He fought off most of them while he was still a child. They wouldn't dare now that he's grown. Zebra hoof to hoof combat can be deadly. I figure he'll stay here for as long as he keeps getting paid." He blinked mildly. "Speaking of, if you wanna keep jawing..."

I laughed. "The little one'll probably shoot me if I keep drinking, but I'll settle us out and would appreciate advice on where to shelter overnight. Planning to go bug-hunting on the Morrow."

The bartender looked stricken, then leaned in conspiratorially, "I don't tell many strangers this, but I like you, don't take the bug job, between you and me, everyone who's been there has come back a little funny. And frankly, I find it awfully strange that they're still hiring folks on the regular when they've been advertising that opening for years, all across Equestria." Some new customers walked in and he loudly instructed, "I recommend the Cantering Jenny, soft beds, good food and a fair value. Can't ask for much more than that." I nodded. "Find yourself a good stable caravan job, for the sake of you and your delightful little filly. Pretty much anything else will end in tragedy."

I mulled this over until we were ready for bed. "Razzle," I started cautiously. "I know you've only known me a few days, and... I am not a clever pony. As you may have noticed, I'm not really very good at heeding danger, if anything, I have a really stupid tendency of bolting into it headfirst. It's been suggested I have a death wish, despite its inability to stick. I can only say it's a bad habit I picked up from the best, or worst, depending on who you ask." I was a bit ruffled and nibbled a wing thoughtfully, I knew it to be a habitual self-soothing ritual, but it helped me think. "What I'm trying to say is, hanging around me might get you killed, or worse." I didn't bother to elaborate, she knew what worse meant probably better than I did. She'd lived it. "So, I want to offer you, again, your freedom, a chance for a better life, I'll make any arrangements I can but..."

"But what? What do you expect to happen to me? Do you think that this town will keep me? Do you think I would have a place in a caravan? Do you really think that would be safe? Do you think that caravan guards really stop all the raiders? Do you think the average caravan can even afford to hire competent guards? Shit, best I can hope for is to be a good prostitute, least I've got experience."

"W-well the bartender..."

"Probably a fillyfiddler."

"I-I could always do as he suggested, I could take on a more stable profession..."

Razzle laughed. "I like to see you try. Indigo, let's be honest here, you're an adventurer. And you know what, so am I. At least, I'd like to be. Let's keep on as we are, don't let acts like I pulled at the bar fool you, I'm not a child, I'm certainly not your child, though I suppose you could always assert your authority over me as I am still your slave by right."

I looked at her sadly, then nodded. "Alright, but on one condition."

"What's that?" She asked warily.

"I don't want you to be my slave any more." I extended a hoof as she flinched. "I want you to be my partner." She gave me a look of shock, hurt and utter disgust. "BUSINESS! Business partners only. Please. Besides, I've told you already I'm not interested in little fillies."

She looked thoughtful, and turned away. Then she turned back around with a grin, bumping my hoof with hers. "Equal partners, 50/50, or the deal's off."

"Agreed, but only on future acquisitions. Can't split what I've already spent."

"That's fair." She agreed, bumping hooves a little less enthusiastically. "Oh, and I may as well tell you, near as I can estimate I'm about fifteen." I stared in some shock, she looked about eight, I'd guessed her to be twelve tops.

We ran into the bartender again on our way out of the town. "I was afraid you were the adventuring sort. So let me offer a more interesting alternative, some way from here, there's an old military base, bombed to ruins during the war and radiation kept any from scavenging through it. It ain't common knowledge, but I suspect it isn't quite so potent anymore. I wouldn't suggest camping there, but you oughta find quite a bit of interest before you're at any serious risk of damage."

I was surprised, and he was right, it did sound like a more promising expedition. "Well, I am still curious what it is about a bug infested hole in the ground that sends people back altered, but I can't ignore the promise of some good booty." I shrugged. “I'll be back after I get a good haul, but once I'm done with it, I'm going to investigate that mystery hole, who knows, maybe I'll solve it."

"Well, I suppose that's as good as anything." He said sadly. "But I'll try again to talk some sense into you when you get back. Who knows, maybe the third time will be the charm and it'll stick." We both knew it wouldn't, but I agreed to think about it, and headed towards the new directive.

***

I was perplexed as I walked up to the ruined gate. There was a strange recognition of the warped landscape. "This is where he died." I stated aloud.

"Who?"

"The love of my life."

"You never really talk about your past, even when you do." She noted.

Our conversation tone was flat. We both understood. Reciting the basic facts of history, repeating the same rotes of experience were safe. It was emotional scar tissue, it hurt, but it wasn't the agony that came of forcing the injury. It wasn't the pain of wounds reopening. She waited with me at the gate, knowing that to rush would only leave me vulnerable. Judging by the presence of radroaches alone, this was going to require all our focus.

I felt myself slipping into my training, a shift in my demeanor as I ordered. "Let's go."

Despite what the bartender had assured me, these ruins had definitely been picked over. I knew I was avoiding my final destination, I could see his penmanship on all the letters he'd sent, clearly marking his barrack and bunk. I'd always loved the way his writing looked. Smooth, sturdy letters, with just a bit of flair and quirkiness, much as he was.

Underneath the rigid discipline of training, I could feel the unease in my gut. Little whispers guessing at what I might find, down to clear little visuals of the goriest details. Pulverized bug eaten remains of once familiar features were the worst, but I had the grim reassurance of logic that the blast had likely reduced him to dust. I might be breathing him in now. I choked out what could have been a laugh or a sob.

"There it is again." Razzle grumbled.

"Where's what?"

"I keep hearing a clicking noise." She complained, every so often... There, there it was again!" She insisted.

I listened in now, straining my ears. I nodded as I heard it too. After another couple of rounds, I finally realized with a start that the sound was coming from my pipbuck. "Hey, it is working." I noted brightly. "Guess it's just the screen that's broken." I wondered if I would have noticed it on my own, as absorbed as I was in my own thoughts. I forgot sometimes just how important it was to have someone else around to pull me back into reality. I made a mental note to include that as a theme in a sermon when I got around to writing about harmony and friendship. I was going to need a name for my organization, even if it was just me. I would be a one mare army if that was what the world required of me, but I had a feeling that not only was that sentiment unnecessary, it'd actually be counterproductive. Not only would I require help to complete this quest, the whole thing would be pointless without having friends of my own to support me.
I was at least that far ahead of where Twilight Sparkle was at the beginning of her journey. In all, we found only a few ammo boxes and med kits, with a few knickknacks left behind in torn apart hooflockers.

All too soon, I stood where his bunk had been. None of the walls remained complete, what I could see of the cots were corroded into heaps of rust and rot. There were a few hooflockers here too. Each one I saw was forced open with what remained of its contents discarded. I checked the names on each one, passing them along with each unrecognized identity. I was certain I'd heard throwaway references to some of them, but I only had eyes for one.

I broke down and started sobbing as soon as I found it, gripping it like I could somehow find him vicariously, if only I found my way inside. Miraculously, this chest remained closed, though not for lack of trying. It was mangled almost beyond recognition. There were sharp edges where crowbars had attempted to force entry, some with pieces snapped off in the seams. The hinges were smashed nearly into solid lumps, and there were quite a few angry dents where the vandals had clearly lost their temper. I guessed that if not for rain's tendency to wash things clean, they'd probably defiled it in cruder ways as well. I was just composing myself as Razzle approached, having found anything of value in the rest.

"Cloud locked." I explained, having solved the question of how his hooflocker had resisted intrusion. "Give me a chance to compose myself and I'll give it a try." I wiped my tears and made a few halfhearted attempts with the vapor, but I couldn't make any headway. I'd never been great with cloud manipulation, even when using cloud interfaces I was accustomed to. Part of the trade off of growing up earthbound.

"Alright you're just pathetic, move aside and I'll show you how it's done." She was trying to sound gruff as usual, but I could hear the sympathy regardless. I sniffled and let her pass, not thinking very clearly. It was only after the lock disengaged did I realize what I'd seen. "Razzle, how'd you do that? Only pegasi can manipulate cloudstuff."

She smiled grimly, and tossed her mane. She turned her shoulders to me, and for the first time I noticed the small pink pucker of a scar. My stomach flipped as I noticed a small nub wiggling on the opposite side of her spine. "After I escaped the first time, they decided to curtail my options. Not that I ever learned to fly." She muttered quietly. "Anyway, it's open, I'll let you look and see what your dead boyfriend left you, and I won't even ask for a cut of it." She walked off to leave me to myself, and I was glad she gave me the space.

Most notably his hooflocker contained armored MP barding. I swear it smelled like him, and trembling, I tried it on. It needed a little maintenance, and Razzle would have to help me adjust it, but I could tell that it would fit. I could use the extra protection as well as the sentimental value of him protecting me, as best he could, long after he'd died. I could have skipped and jumped for joy when I found his rifle, it looked like it would even be in working condition. There was ammo for the rifle, and also for a pistol that was missing.

I wondered if I might have been the last to touch it, aside from him. He hadn't been amused by the joke, and not for the first time I had regrets over our last meeting. If only I'd been able to control myself a little better...

There, at the bottom, was a stack of lovingly wrapped and organized letters. My vision blurred with tears as I saw my own writing on the pages. He'd clearly treasured them, and I wondered what had been on his mind that night, if he still felt the same way after he'd seen what I'd become. And finally, there was a book. I opened the crisp, pages and saw his writing all over the pages. "The Journal of Lucky Streak." I couldn't help myself, the rest of the world melted away, and I got to see the world in his shoes.

I tried to read from the beginning, but the first few entries were somewhat tedious recollections of drills and patrols, he’d begun the journal on the suggestion of a senior officer to write better reports, so, feeling a touch guilty, I skimmed through until the focus involved me.

***

I turned the corner and found myself looking at... A mare’s flank. I don’t quite know what what was going through my mind, at the moment, although I know that it couldn’t have been much, besides her flank. My glance dropped down to her long legs, though her joints were stockier than most mares, her height lent her a look of leanness, nicely balancing the curves of her body. She was a pinto, strikingly marked with bold, dark bluish-purple spots over a pale lilac. Her mane was short cropped for a mare and was a contrasting red that couldn’t be natural. She too was a pegasus, her wings tucked neatly against her shoulders. I didn’t much mind her unshorn fetlocks and my eyes returned to her tail, short and sleek, which hid the view between her thighs.

I longed so much to smell her, inhale her essence, although I had no idea who she even was, but not even a light breeze was in the air. My imagination got the better of me, as I imagined what it might be like to take her as my own. The entire thing was becoming too awkward, and I had no idea what to do to break the tension. Without warning, her tail lifted to one side and her wings unfolded in an unmistakable invitation. While I had been distracted with other things, she had taken notice of me, and was toying with me.

I took a step forward, my brain screaming at me to take her, but I stopped myself, and dropped my hoof with a soft noise. She was looking at me coyly, eyes half-lidded and a small smirk on her lips.

“Why, hello Sergeant,” She breathed huskily. “It would seem I’m out after curfew.” She tossed her head and stood up straight. “Whatever are you going to do with me?”

She winked at me and I stammered an incoherent “I - bu- bwuh?” but before anything coherent could come out, I snapped to a salute, noticing the Captain rank on her lapel, hoping I wouldn’t get in trouble for not saluting earlier.

She impatiently returned the salute, and I relaxed. That was until she said, “I didn’t say ‘at ease,’” and muttered quietly to herself, probably without intending for me to hear, “I suppose I’ll just inspect you.” She walked around me thoughtfully, reaching out a wing to poke underneath mine and chuckled as she nearly made me lose my balance. She looked at me with renewed interest as she met my eyes and released me from attention with a quick flick of her hoof and wing. “Don’t tell me this is the first time you’ve laid eyes on a real live mare before.”

I cleared my throat and replied. “Then I won’t tell you, Ma’am.”

Her eyes glittered with amusement and she leaned closer. “I like smart asses.” I was sure she was going to kiss me, but instead she turned abruptly and stood shoulder to shoulder with me. I took in her ruffled feathers and looked up to her face in time to see her gaze travel to the swelling in my barding, her tongue passing only slightly over her lips. Then she looked at me again, smiled and said. “I hope I bump into you again sometime.” I opened my mouth to reply when suddenly her tail was in my face and my mind was overwhelmed with her scent, my brain incapable of processing any other thoughts. Then she turned the corner and disappeared.

I almost ran after her, but my hooves were shaking, my heart was pounding, and my barding was becoming painfully tight, and I didn’t want to risk moving, for fear of damaging something vital. It was some time before I relaxed enough to move comfortably, making myself appear to be doing sentry duty, but the smell and taste of her remained in my mind, and in my nose, for the rest of the night.

***

I was dragged out of my reverie by the sound of gunfire. Razzle darted behind me. "Zebras!" She explained, panting. I slipped the journal into my saddle bags, then my letters, and donned the barding as best as I could. I was double checking the condition of the rifle and making sure it was loaded as Razzle emptied the rest of the hooflocker into my packs. She clambered onto my back and gripped tightly. I remained hunkered down and waited, tracking the searching hoofbeats, rifle to bear. As a Zebra nosed around a corner I liquified his skill into pink mist with a burst of full auto. Some dark part of me rose up as usual, reveling in the killing.

Shadowbolt training had taught me not just to accept, but to embrace my killer instinct. The rest of the zebra began to converge upon my position, but I stayed put, merely reloading a fresh magazine, and then replenishing the one I used so I would have a smoother opportunity to reload next time. After that would be time to move. They didn't know my exact location yet, and while I wasn't about to give it all away just yet, there would be no more hiding once they closed in. Bunched together I would have better odds of decimating their numbers, and hopefully I would hit enough that the remainder wouldn't effectively launch a counter attack.

Naturally, things didn't go as planned. Halfway through my second burst round, the rifle jammed. Screaming I charged the ranks, flaring my wings to distract from my shape, and targeting a young, bewildered colt, I seized his rifle and pulled, I felt a searing pain followed by numbness from my left haunch, but I didn't have time to waste, I hit him in the face with the butt of his own rifle, then kicked off to the air using his head. Whooping wildly, I took flight, firing the zebra's rifle into the crowd at random.

I flew as far and as fast as I could, but as the giddiness of battle became lightheadedness, I turned to regard my injury, and more alarming than the chunk of meat missing from my thigh, more even than the regular spurt of blood from therein, was the missing gem in the harness over my hip. My leg wasn't just injured, it was dead. I collapsed onto a small natural cloud drifting below the level of the Enclave and slipped into unconsciousness.

***

"Well ain't this a rare sight." The voice sounded like it was gargling rocks.

I struggled to wake, groggy no doubt because my blood had not quite yet been replenished. I fumbled with the rifle straps around my shoulders but only managed to entangle my wings and legs.

"There will be no need for that, I'm a friendly, least as friendly as anyone can be in the wastes.” The voice chuckled.

Razzle was clinging in amongst my things, hiding and waiting for a cue from me. I blinked up at what appeared to be a pegasus in Enclave armor, flapping lazily a short distance away. Focusing through my pain, I was surprised I recognized the rank insignias.

This wasn't Enclave power armor, it was Equestrian. I noticed now the wings I'd assumed brown were actually a muddy jerky looking mass of sinew and tumors.
"You're a ghoul." I mumbled.

"I am."

My brain struggled to process. "That means... You were alive during the war?"

"Died in it too." He agreed cheerily.

I sighed, feeling relieved, a sense of feeling that I was no longer alone. I struggled to sit up, the helmet sliding down my face. "So... You found us, what now?"

"Us?"

I nudged Razzle with my wing. She rose up reluctantly.

"What a cute little filly you have there." He complimented. I set my head back on my hooves, still feeling weary. "In any case, I think someone in the caravan might be able to see to your wound. Can you fly on your own?"

"Fly? Not a chance, but I think I can land." I mumbled. "But I don't think my wound can be seen to in the traditional methods." I shifted my weight, flexing my wings in preparation for the gliding. "I need a very skilled arcane technology specialist, with experience in gemwork." I explained simply. "You wouldn't happen to know anypony like that would you?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that, but I have heard tell of a talented unicorn mare who specializes in magical prosthetics. Might be an option."

"Sounds promising to me." I rose slowly to my three good hooves, looking at my useless haunch with the strangest urge to bite it. "How far is that?"

"About a week's flight east usually, if you stick with the caravan, it'll take awhile longer, but between you and me, I'm not sure you'll make it alone."

I laughed. "I'd say that's an astute observation." Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped off the cloud.

Razzle shrieked at the sudden lurch as I dropped, then slowly evened out as I spread my wings. The ghoul stayed close on my flanks, but didn't intervene. "So where to?" I shouted as I adjusted to a smooth glide.

He moved up to my left, and led me to a small wagon train. My landing was a little rough, but no one was injured, so I considered it a success.

"I just realized," He noted as he presented us to the caravan leader, a Buffalo bull. "I haven't asked your names."

"Oh right." I murmured, feeling woozy again. I reached up to brush my forelock out of my eyes and knocked off my helmet in the process.

I couldn't see the ghoul's face, but his tone of voice said it all. "Well if it isn't the notorious Captain Indigo Breeze! I heard you died!" I thought he was about to hug me, and I swear he was prancing.

"If only." I sighed, looking at the helmet at my hooves. I don't think he heard me.

"Notorious?" The stoic Buffalo asked in an amused tone.

"I used to have quite the reputation." I shrugged. "I assure you it was highly exaggerated." The truth had been far stranger, but I wasn't about to divulge anything incriminating.

"Indigo was hoping to catch a ride to the Tinker."

"Also, I'm Razzle, nice to meet'cha." The young mare cropped up.

"I thought we talked about standing on my head."

"I'm called Oakleaf." The bull replied. "And I don't see much harm in letting a couple of pretty little fillies ride along for a ways, especially since old Rusty here is willing to vouch for you. Talk to my wife, Jolene, she'll help you get situated and take a look at your injury. We've just finished lunch, but if you don't mind leftovers, I'm certain we can scrape something together."

Author's Note

Indigo can't keep herself out of trouble, never in the past, defintely not in the present and probably no time in the future.

Well, at least I am finally uploading this. I had started the process and had a browser crash and between meds and stuff kept forgetting that I started posting this story. I have two more chapters fully written before I have to start filling in the gaps. I really need to catch up on the show for some more inspiration.

The shitty half-hearted and inconsistent attempts at accents in this chapter are precisely why I could use an editor or at least a beta reader.

If you want to be a beta reader or collaborate with me, pm me over Tumblr or Skype or Twitter or basically any platform under the username Kiyarasabel.

As always, please leave kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions, and if you want to support me on Patreon I will be forever in your debt.

https://www.patreon.com/KiyaraSabel

(Also thanks to whoever hated me enough to downvote 3:1)

Chapter 3

It only occurred to me as I finished fleshing out the basic doctrine of The Heavenly Accord of Harmony that I had no way of reproducing and distributing the information, short of painstakingly transcribing each copy. I felt a little deflated, but my boiling inspiration refused to let me mope about it too long, and I decided to keep on with the Good Work, designing a simple pamphlet, trusting the influence of the Goddesses to lead me to good fortune.

On the other hoof, there wasn't much else for me to do.

Not for the first time, I thanked my lucky stars that the caravanners had allowed me and Razzle to join them. Although my wings were fine, my dead leg would still have slowed us considerably between flights. Well, mostly it was a matter of Rusty's presence and firepower that had granted our acceptance, but I liked to think that my natural charisma had something to do with it.

Razzle was earning her keep doing any number of little odd jobs, from babysitting, to crawling under the wagons to maintenance the axles. She insisted she was earning keep for both of us, but Rusty not only assured me that my presence was no burden, but also that Razzle was earning a small wage from her work, mostly in the form of barter and trinkets, though she wasn't hurting for caps either.

That's not to say all was well, my dead leg was undeniably rotting. The reek of decay was pungent, and although I did my best to cleanse it, constantly changing the bandages, the odor permeated everything I did. I wasn't of a single mind as to what to do about it. I wasn't about to amputate as I suspected just how excruciating it would be to regenerate a limb from nothing, if I even could, as even at my worst my bones had remained attached. Nevermind just now difficult it would be to explain how it was my magic managed to repair such spectacular damage.

Granted, there were already questions I couldn't, or wouldn't answer about my condition. The fact that the rest of me was hale and hearty while my leg was sloughing off putrid flesh stupefied those who'd attempted to treat me. I was now refusing to let anyone else see it, insisting I had it taken care of. I wasn't entirely sure if I had managed to keep the flies out of it and every time I changed the bandages I was afraid I would find it gravid with the twitching and wriggling of maggots. Somehow, after all the horrors of war and my own experience treating complex injuries, I had never been able to get over my squeamishness regarding parasites, or those tiny white grubs that looked like sticky rice.

I did not feel relief as we neared our destination, instead, my anxiety mounted. I had no idea if this Tinker would be capable of repairing the harness, I didn't know if it even could be repaired. I'd been under the impression that the armor was indestructible and the fact that it had proved otherwise rattled me far more than I was willing to let on. It meant that the armor could, and had failed me. It meant that I could actually be killed, I could rot and die just as I was watching my leg wither away before my eyes, and it couldn't all be fixed just by closing the clasp.

I'd started having nightmares, full of plain, ordinary tedium. In one I was back in high school, meeting friends I hadn't seen in years. Then they would betray me, mocking and belittling my every fear and weakness. In others I fled in a blind panic, and even though my pursuer never caught up to me, I never got away either. Some were the most painfully mundane, following the most inane of daily habits such as brushing my teeth or hair, only for them to all fall out. I awoke one morning convinced I had lost a molar, so vivid had been the taste of blood, the sensation of the roots wiggling free and the contours of the tooth on my tongue.

I was a bit more of a nervous wreck than usual by the time we made it to the Tinker's cottage, even my writing had suffered. I enjoyed brief moments of escape in the experience of my lost love's journal, but psychosomatic pain and phantom limb sensations haunted me constantly. It would die down just long enough to lure me into a false sense of comfort, only to strike again with a sudden vengeful intensity when I least expected it. Even Razzle couldn't stand my worsening mood and in turn, I avoided everyone else, except when I could no longer avoid it, such as notifying sentries of bathroom breaks or fetching a meal. I hadn't attempted to eat with anyone since the smell had become overpowering.

***

"I don't do amputations, and I'm not a doctor." Stated a harried voice as I approached the counter in the front office. There was a steady source of sound from any number of clockwork creations lining the store, there had to be hundreds of the devices, of all shapes and sizes, humming and buzzing and steaming away.

"Well that's fine, but I'm not here for medical services, I need some repairs on a rare enchanted item."

"That so?" The source of the voice came forward, a smudge of grease prominent across her cheek and nose. She wore round spectacles, and a curly, white-streaked, royal purple mane was attempting to escape a bandanna tied behind her horn.

"One of a kind." I added.

She was impressively unimpressed. "You be astonished how often I hear that. Now hoof it over so I can see if it's worth my time."

"I can't..."

She looked annoyed. "Oh?"

"I'm wearing it."

"So take it off." I was obviously trying her patience.

"I'm afraid I can't." I turned to reveal the damage. I felt bad about it, as the mare blanched, retched, and looked liable to faint.

"Nope, nope nope nope. Nope. Nope. No."

"Please, you're the only pony who can help me!" I begged. "Trust me, you've never seen anything like this, it will be worth your time!"

She'd almost left the room, and so desperately, I cast about, grabbed a spare screwdriver that was laying out, and drove it towards one of my good legs.

The unicorn shrieked in anticipatory horror, and then stared in shock as the force field rebounded, the screwdriver ricocheting off into a corner.

"Okay, that was interesting." She admitted, stepping forward. "But what do you expect me to do about it?"

As I explained the general nature and function of the harness, she became more and more enthralled, examining the undamaged sections and observing the magical relays.

"Okay, so, it seems like it should be a fairly simple fix, just need to replace this missing stone and weave it back into the rest of the spell matrix. The problem is that I don't even recognize half of these types of magic, much less the specific spells involved. First things first, I need you to shut it down and take it off."

"I can't do that." I repeated.

She glared at me and explained. "First of all, I'm not touching that kind of magic while it's active. I may not know what it does, but I don't think I want it backfiring on me while I'm working on it. Secondly, if you really want to stand there while I solder and weld metal on your ass, so be it, but you'd better not flinch when you get burned."

"Indigo, it doesn't sound like you have much of a choice, why not let one other pony in on the secret, I'll watch her while you're out to insure there isn't any funny business." I was at a bit of a loss with Razzle's sudden outburst, and without waiting for my approval she explained. "Indigo's actually quite ill and the harness helps keep her alive. It was custom made for her and when she takes it off she loses consciousness, so she's pretty uneasy about anyone touching her while she's unable to resist." She flashed a conspiratorial look and added in an aside, “It's not easy being a mare in the wastelands, and she had a bad experience."

Tinker looked sympathetic and assured me gently. "I have only the purest professional interest in your harness, and I have no objections to the filly's observation while I work. Hopefully, it won't take too long."

I nodded contritely, impressed with Razzle's clever explanation, just enough truth to explain the situation, without giving away any of the most sensitive information. "So, how much do I owe you, and when do we start?"

"I can't give you an exact quote until I'm done, if I can fix it, I won't charge you if I can't. And as to when, I'll need to set up my equipment and prepare a work table to accommodate a fully grown mare. Give me about an hour, and I'll be ready with a more accurate quote."

"Okay, I'd better go inform the caravan, they didn't want to wait around too long. How long do you think the procedure itself will take?"

Tinker shrugged. "At least twenty minutes, maybe an hour, or two. I won't really know until I start working on it. I'm most uncertain about weaving the repairs into the spell matrix, it's delicate work, and as I mentioned, a lot of the magic is unfamiliar to me. If I may remind you the work is also potentially hazardous for me too, so I can't rush it, I don't want to lose another leg." She tugged up a sleeve of her house coat to reveal a gleaming bronze and gold limb of whirring clockwork.

"It's beautiful!" I replied. "D-do you mind if I take a closer look?"

The repairpony blushed. "Um, sure, I guess, thanks." She shrugged off her coat, and rested her leg on the counter while I examined it, admiring the intricacy of all the tiny moving parts, gears and pulleys adjusting seemingly on their own.

"This is a work of art." I proclaimed. "I mean, I can't imagine putting together something like this. It must have been a lot of work."

"Oh, well, it was..." She chuckled uneasily. "It didn't start out this way." She assured. "I started with a wooden peg. Then I made a jointed piece of wood. I have no idea how many I've gone through, either outgrowing, breaking or upgrading models over time. Took me at least a decade to figure out how to incorporate functional clockwork with the joints, and I've been fiddling with it ever since, and I'm not done yet. I'm pretty sure my prosthetics are a reasonable approximation of natural function, but of late I've been trying to surpass them, studying the cybernetics available and trying to determine how best to combine the technologies."

Razzle cleared her throat to inform us. "The caravan is leaving, Rusty says he'll join us after his contract expires with them, he'll meet up with us in Brayton. Sorry to interrupt your little game of 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours', but somepony needs to keep us on task."

I hadn't even noticed she had left, much less returned.

"I should probably go prep that table." Tinker stated, obviously uncomfortable with the filly's inappropriate comment.

"Let's go look around the marketplace." Razzle suggested cheerfully. "I saw some knives that caught my attention."

•••

I climbed onto the table trepidatiously, not just because I was liable to fall over onto the pile of sharp edged tools. My wing clipped an overhead lamp in the process as it was, but being here under this scrutiny, knowing someone would again be manipulating the very forces that tied me to existence, beyond my capacity to control or understand was terrifyingly similar to the first time. My grip on reality was tenuous at best, and at the moment visions, memories, feelings and sensations were rushing through my mind, confusing my perceptions as panic rose. My heart was hammering in my chest and my blood pressure spiked painfully. I started breathing sharply, on the verge of hyperventilating as my eyes blurred with tears. Mercifully, someone opened the clasp, and everything ceased to be.

***

I arose from the darkness in a frenzy, kicking, biting, screaming and bucking. As I calmed down, reassured by the regular flapping of my wingbeats that I was not, in fact, under attack, I felt a little sheepish. Guilt welled up as I landed, surveying the damage I had caused. My heart sank as I noticed the frightened gaze of two pairs of eyes peering out cautiously from behind a table and inside a cabinet respectively.

"I-I'm sorry." I stammered, a lump forming in my throat as tears trickled from my eyes. "I-I... I just... d-don't kn-know wh-what..."

"It's okay." Tinker coaxed gently, stepping slowly towards me. I noticed she was limping, a large hoof-shaped dent in her magnificently crafted leg. I collapsed on the floor sobbing, covering my face with my wretched killer's hooves, realizing how close I had come to murdering two ponies who had been nothing but helpful to me.

I bawled all the harder as they tried to reassure me that everything was okay. Eventually I calmed back down, clinging to the explanation that what I did was the fault of those who had hurt me, and that things could get better if I learned from this experience instead of blaming myself for it. Finally, an incessant itching managed to distract me from my despair. I looked at the soggy brown odiferous bandages on my leg reluctant for what came next. Underneath a fetid later of slime, the limb was whole and healthy, aside from a slight pins and needles sensation that normally followed a significant healing.

"So what do I owe you?" I had intimated from the weak vestiges of daylight slanting through the window that the weary mare had been working on me for several hours.

She laughed, almost a scoff, and ran a hoof through her mane. "Well first I'm going to need a stiff drink. Then I'm going to need help cleaning up the lab. I'll figure it out after that." She sighed. "At least you paid the deposit up front."

I was dismissed to clean away my refuse, and was permitted to join in for drinks after polishing my coat to a shine. I noticed my hooves hurt exceptionally in comparison to my recently healed leg, especially my opposite foreleg.

Tinker nodded as I mentioned it. "We're quadrupeds, we aren't meant to hobble around unsupported for too long, just like we can't stay bedridden indefinitely. I saw a client once who'd been hobbling along on three legs for so long the bone came through his hoof!" She took a long drink. "Can't really help somepony at that point." She muttered morosely. "In any case as to the business at hand, I have some questions. I understand you may not feel like sharing all the information, and that's fine, I respect that things have been done to you from which recovery may be difficult, even downright impossible, and I have a tremendous amount of admiration for your commitment to do good in the world, especially bringing up such a strong willed foal alone, given the average morality of Wasteland residents. But I want you to be honest with me, because there are a few things that I cannot ignore. First, I must state the obvious. You were not unconscious, you were dead. Don't bother to deny it I checked and verified your vitals, or rather lack thereof several times throughout the procedure. I have assisted in cases where a patient was in a medically induced coma, the deepest levels of unconsciousness possible, I've seen what levels a person can reach before they can be revived and I can state you were absolutely, verifiably well beyond any possible doubt irreconcilably dead. I was quite alarmed at first, as I hope you can imagine, and I thought the filly's bland insistence you were fine was just childish denial, until I realized she was fully aware and entirely unconcerned, at which point I was forced to conclude that this was not the first time she had seen you die." She took another long drink, seeming haunted. "I'll take your silence as confirmation." I nodded weakly. "Secondly, I'm not sure I want to know how it works. My leg, you might have guessed, harnesses my latent, and occasionally active, magic. I know pegasus have a bit of magic of their own, but even the most powerful of unicorns wouldn't be capable of powering all of your regeneration talismans alone, using their full concentration. This is nothing compared to the rest of your charms, from the shielding to all the ones I don't even recognize. You are extremely fortunate the gem that broke was a simple relay piece, easy to replace and not containing very difficult enchantments. Reintegrating it was a whole different story." She took another drink, obviously rattled.

"Whatever it is that's holding you together, it's dangerous, I'd even go so far as to call it evil. I have never seen such vile black magic, as that's the only thing it could be. I used to think that magic was simply a tool, that spells could be put to use for all manner of things, and evil acts were simply a matter of evil practitioners. I don't think that you're evil." She said, forestalling my evident discomfort. "But there is something terrible inside you, and I honestly think it's only a matter of time until it consumes you. Don't be too alarmed, I think you have it mostly under control for now, and it will likely take years for its corruption to destroy you." She shrugged.

"Though there's no accounting for the corruption of the wasteland itself. What I'm trying to say is, that when I first joined the relay stone back into the gem network, I thought I was just going to fit a few spells back together. I did not expect that several spells attempted to ... Seize me. It was like hands of darkness, reaching out and grasping at me, my magic... I didn't think I was going to escape at first, and it took almost everything I had to pull back out. Fortunately for you, the spell matrix was able to knit itself back together. I was afraid to do so much as monitor it from that point, fearful that the most cursory use of my magic near you would suck me back in. It was a while before I could do more than watch as your leg altered underneath the bandages, twisting, bulging and growing... Healing, but to my eyes I imagined mutation, corruption, defiling... It stopped eventually, and I'd gathered ahold of myself, but I consider it a blessing that I was so cautious about bringing you back. Razzle had commented on the fact you had been panicking when we put you down, and suggested it possible you would wake up in the same state. I don't blame you, I imagine wherever you were while you were gone, it probably wasn't unlike what I glimpsed when I disturbed the spells you're under, I'm not surprised you were lashing out like that." We were silent for a bit, then Tinker finished her drink, smiled ruefully and offered. "Well, guess it's time to start cleaning the lab."

She let us stay the night, mostly because as it was, it took until the wee hours of the morning to finish picking up the disarray. "Don't feel too bad." Tinker reassured the next day. "A lot of the mess was my own design, I don't think it's ever been this clean." The admission only assuaged my guilt somewhat, as I knew she had been rather upset about discarding several damaged devices into her scrap bins. Still we had done her something of a service, helping organize all of her tools and supplies into a more efficient order. "Now then," She added, after we had completed our primary business transactions. "I've noticed that you wear a pipbuck, but I don't think I've ever seen you use it."

"Oh, well that's because it's broken, at least the display, the geiger counter still works."

"I could fix that for you." Her eyes glittered with excitement.

"How much would that be?"

"Oh, no charge, I've just always wanted to pop one of those babies open, and most ponies treat theirs like children, and would die before taking them off. You also seem to have a more advanced model."

I was a little perplexed that she was so anxious to get her hooves on it, I knew they weren't terribly common, but they weren't exceptionally rare either. In any case, free was free and I'd love to have my data back. "Sounds good to me."

I swear she skipped back to her toolkit to dig out a small tool with a manual. She was humming as she removed the personal computing device, and it felt interesting to be without it. "I'll have it back to you by the end of the day." I suspected she didn't need that much time to effect the repairs, and I had a nagging fear she would dismantle it down to its basic components, but I knew that I couldn't trust a more talented set of hooves.

"Oh, and before I forget, Razzle had mentioned you wanted a lock for your harness clasp. I think it's a good idea, and I can probably make you one for, oh, about fifty caps or so." It was pricy, and we both knew it, we also both knew it would be worth the amount for Tinker's quality of work, and finally, we both knew I wasn't about to entrust any old locksmith with my secret.

"I'll have to think about it." I replied honestly. My caps were uncomfortably low, and we hadn't redeemed much for our extra ammo, and had decided to keep the bulk of the medical and food supplies, mostly for the benefit of Razzle who had managed to avoid serious injury with uncanny ability. Granted, her primary strategies included using me as a bullet sponge, avoiding all direct confrontation, and taking advantage of her size to become a more difficult target. It had been a tough decision to hand over the Zebra rifle to the filly, but it had less recoil and would be easier for her to train on.

It would have fetched a great deal of caps. I would of course keep Lucky's standard issue rifle. I was trained and more than competent in its use, so with a bit of maintenance and minor repair it would remain more than serviceable. I couldn't deny an attraction of sentimental value either, I probably was going to keep it until it fell apart, as much as I would with his armor. Pragmatically, I would upgrade as the opportunity presented itself, but they'd be cluttering the inventory in my saddlebags even after they'd inevitably fall to pieces.

At the end of the day, I'd decided that I couldn't afford not to purchase the lock. First, I got distracted by the renewed functionality of my pipbuck, Tinker explained that she'd needed to back up the data to a terminal and give the device a hardware factory reset, she mentioned the technical repairs, repairing a damaged circuit in the video processor, and elaborated for quite awhile on how difficult the decryption process was. I heard bits and pieces, but mostly I was absorbed into reviewing my music, video, and image files, organizing them into their respective folders.

I snapped back into awareness as Tinker informed me she needed to examine the clasp so as to properly fit the locking mechanism. I spread my wings and knelt to give her clearer access, struggling to keep from flinching at the invasive touching. I hadn't quite realized before now just how protective I was of my harness. It worried me a little, aside from some measure of understandable self defense, I realized there was a touch of unhealthy possessiveness. I remembered with a shudder what Tinker's pronouncement about the array earlier.

"All right, It should be ready tomorrow morning." She informed me cheerfully. I reached for my saddlebags to pay her. She laughed. "There's no need, your small companion paid me already."

I almost didn't recognize the filly when I saw her again, which was, indeed the point of the sleek, stealth camo barding she was wearing.

"What do you think?" She asked sweetly, drawing hooffulls of knives with a flourish.

"I think I don't appreciate you enough." I replied seriously.

"Aww, don't get all maudlin on me." She protested, though she was blushing cheerfully. "Besides," She added. "It's conditional."

"On what?" I was perplexed, uncertain what I had to give that I had not already offered the filly.

"I get the key."

It was an odd request, and I think my puzzlement showed. "Of course, I can't very well reach it myself."

Her eyes grew wide. She'd obviously expected some kind of resistance. "Does that mean... You trust me now?"

"Oh, honey..." I dropped down to meet her at eye level. "I've trusted you implicitly since I woke up in a strange stallions body to find you holding the smoking pistol that shot me." I pulled her into a hug, and remarked. "I just realized how bizarre that sounds."

"Indigo Breeze, you're an idiot." She groaned, but I could feel her squeeze back with enthusiasm.

"Anyway, I was thinking we should pitch camp outside of town, get used to living on the road, rather than getting spoiled to an inn and blowing all our caps."

"Seems reasonable." She agreed.

"Did you spend all yours, too?" I asked teasingly.

"Of course not, I know how to budget, unlike some ponies."

I laughed, and we headed out into the wasteland together, feeling more sure of myself than I had in a long time.

Being so close to the small village we were rather lackadaisical about our watches that night, mostly resting up from the night before and gathering our strength for the road ahead. Throughout my half hearted watch I worked on my philosophical papers, trying to elaborate on the individual elements of harmony, and see just how they reconnected as a whole. As I finished up for the night and went to sleep, I had a brilliant flash of insight, making a note to ask Tinker about it in the morning.

As things turned out she came to us, frantic and nervous. "I hope you didn't tell anyone else about your camping trip tonight, a band of Zebras came into town offering a bounty on your head. I don't know what you did or why, and I don't want to know, but you'd better get out of here before anyone starts looking for you in earnest."

"Who's Earnest?" Razzle asked blearily. I stood up and started packing my things away, the filly would pick up on the idea soon enough.

"I guess commissioning you for a printing press is out of the question then."

"A what? Why?"

I explained about my evangelistic intents while we tore down the camp. We would get a solid head start on our pursuers by virtue of flight, but it probably wouldn't be long for word to spread, and we wouldn't be able to show our faces anywhere resembling civilization.

"Well, I don't generally condone religious brainwashing, what you're trying to do sounds relatively harmless, and I can't argue that I don't appreciate regular paying customers, so I'll work over some designs, make some estimates, and when you're ready, send word and we'll work something out."

"I can't thank you enough, I just hope I don't put you through any additional trouble."

She laughed. "Trouble keeps things interesting. I haven't had this much intellectual stimulation in ages. But don't worry too much about me, I've been in worse straits than helping a couple fugitives out of town. Take care of yourselves."

"You too, I hope we do business again soon, and that it goes a little more smoothly next time."

And we took off, before the sun had even begun to think about rising. Since we were in fact fugitives now, we decided to strike out directly to the Bughole as we'd taken up calling it. Given what we knew about it, there was a pretty decent bet that they wouldn't be mobilized to turn me in, whoever they turned out to be.

I was fidgeting by the time we came close, it wasn't anxiety, but almost excitement, like the adrenaline before a fight, but without fear or dread. I probably should have felt those things, but I just was too damned curious about what came next. An old mule was tending to a small shed that proved to be the entrance of the mountainside mine shaft.

"Howdy there ladies." He greeted, grinning vacantly, hardly seeming to see us. He probably seemed affable, harmless to anypony's scrutiny, just an old slightly befuddled stallion. It was probably just the bartender's warning that was making me read into the old coot's eccentricities as sinister threats, but I felt strangely uneasy, like I could sense something I didn't know I could. It was like having a new kind of eyesight, or sense of smell and taste, I could just feel that something was amiss, that all was not as it seemed. "I suspect you're here about the job. We're a large company, handling infestations of pests all across the wastelands, so we're always open to new hires. Sometimes we send out agents on jobs that are improperly reported and instead of clearing out a few anthills they're devoured by fire breathing ants. The job is fairly straightforward, but occasionally unexpected things happen, being an exterminator is mostly routine, but you should always be alert, adaptable, and resourceful. Ingenuity is the most important trait an exterminator can have." His voice droned on in the most boring monotone I had ever heard. Razzle's expression had all but completely glazed over. He took a long wheezing breath, and then explained. "The first job you must achieve to prove you are company material is to destroy fifty bloat sprites in rapid succession. You will be evaluated based upon your time, efficiency and ingenuity. Style is a bonus." He smiled encouragingly. "We can start right away if you'd like, Ma'am, just step on through the hatch and you'll find your way through to the examination chamber presently. You'll know when the test begins." Razzle got up to follow and the mule brayed. "One examination applicant at a time! You can rejoin her after the test or you may attend your own next."

"Razzle, I'll be fine, I can handle this." I knelt down to hug her and whispered. "Keep an eye on things outside the examination room for me, I'm sure you can handle this."

"We both can, see you soon." She agreed. She waved as I walked through the door, looking for all the world like an innocent filly. Knowing how many knives were hidden on her, I didn't feel the slightest bit concerned. Perhaps I should have been.

***

I knew the test had started by the ominous buzzing. I didn't stop to think, I took off and flew to the top of the cavern using altitude to gain the high ground. The assault had begun as soon as the tunnel had opened up, and I activated SATs, targeting those most likely to hinder my assault. I like to think I was a pretty formidable sight, and I found myself wondering if anypony else had survived an onslaught like this, much less how. My shielding was almost opaque from the constant barrage of poisoned spikes, but my newly repaired pipbuck kept me on the offensive. I targeted and eliminated my enemies with single-minded focus. It became almost boring, with the combination of magical defenses and the military barding repelling every attack the bugs could enact. In the end I destroyed them with my bare hooves, stamping the last into the ground with a dive.

I looked around the chamber since the first time since I'd entered. At first I realized there were far more than fifty of them, for another, I could not see any means of surveillance, much less any observation decks or windows. I also realized there were no other exits. Finally, I spotted the bodies, from naked skeletons to relatively fresh carcasses, crawling with larvae. At that point, I turned on the spot and galloped back to the entrance. I was not surprised to find it barred from the outside. I slammed and kicked until the boards of the door came free from the nails holding them in place. The bar still remained slotted, and I reached a hoof through the door and removed it, the door frame collapsing without the sturdier board bracing it in place. I felt myself stamping my way over to the old shed champing at the bit.

It was of course deserted, a strange green ichor spread judiciously around the site, and a few of Razzle's knives were scattered across the floor or embedded in the wooden walls. I snorted, anger bubbling. I knew now that I was dealing with mass murderers, and if they were lucky, Razzle had already escaped. If I found her in anything less than pristine condition, I would make sure they knew the meaning of despair. Within the false calm of icy rage, I recovered her knives, I knew she would want them back. It didn't take me long to find an alternate entrance, clearly better traveled. I could feel a facial tic twitching, not quite at my eye and above my cheek. I brought my rifle to bear, and watched my EFS for the smallest flicker of red.

I was stunned at the rapid approach of a blue spot. I lowered my rifle to the side, and was surprised to see Razzle sobbing at my feet. "I was so scared! I thought I'd never get out of there, and I was lost..."

I slammed the small body against the wall. "Whatever you are, I know Razzle would never admit to fear if she knew somepony were watching. Razzle would not run down a hallway fearing she would get lost, and I most certainly know, when greeting me in such conditions, it would not be a heartfelt plea for help and comfort, she would curse, and tell me I was lazy for taking so long." My voice had dropped into a dry, strangely cheerful growl.

The imposter stated at me in terror, and its eyes were bulging, in no small part due to my hoof on its throat. Grinding my teeth, I let it drop to the ground.

"Now where is she?"

It was still crying, but silently, and pointed a hoof deeper down the tunnel.

"Show me, and if you even think about doing something tricksy, I will turn you into pulp." It nodded, trembling, and started walking.

The tunnels were definitely labyrinthine, and were it not for my pipbuck mapping the way with sonar, even I probably would have gotten lost, thrown off by the spiraling switchbacks and changes in elevation.

I can't say that I was surprised when I found myself entering a large chamber, coming face to face with an entire swarm of changelings. What did surprise me, was the fact that they all came up as blue dots. I also noticed large presses of some sort along the walls, bins full of scrap metal, and rolls of sheet metal. I was confused, and moreso by the poise of the queen who approached me.

"I apologize for the hardship you endured today, I'm afraid that not all of my swarm is properly trained in etiquette regarding visitors."

"That's a little strange, considering it looked like there were a number who were subjected to such hardship, as you say, who were not as fortunate as I was to escape it."

She laughed dismissively. "Those were just ponies."

"Yeah, they were. Living, breathing, thinking, feeling beings you decided to send to their deaths."

"Oh please, they don't all die, many are acceptable for harvest. Our bloatsprites are specially bred to be nonlethal. As the applicants succumb to the toxins, we are able to evaluate their capacity for love. Most of the wasteland's wanderers are drifters, loners and mercenaries who care about none other than themselves. Those who have attachments we keep, feeding from them, and we send out our people in their places, to feed from their loved ones."

"Why are you telling me this? Is it supposed to make me feel sympathetic to you murderers?" I shifted the rifle casually with my wing, contemplating my plan of action.

"I don't see how you can object, doesn't your hive function similarly?"

"My what?!"

"Your swarm, your family, how do you keep your children and drones fed?" She seemed genuinely interested.

"I eat food." I started to feel very uncomfortable, similar to stepping from an air conditioned room into stifling heat and oppressive humidity.

"Well who doesn't?" She scoffed. "But how do you maintain your power, I saw how you handled those sprites, no ordinary pegasus pony can use magic."

I wasn't sure how to respond to this, but decided to admit. "But I am just, albeit nonordinary, a pegasus pony."

The queen suddenly looked gravely concerned. "Oh dear, you've gone native. You poor soul, this will be very difficult for you." Her horn glowed, and I tensed in preparation for a fight. My body relaxed under a sudden wave of relief, warmth tingling across my skin. "You're a changeling. Moreover, you're a Queen, like me."

"No. No, I am Indigo Breeze, Shadowbolt Gust, High Priestess of the Heavenly Accord of Harmony." I insisted, but as I stepped forward, my hoof looked different, a curved horn floated above my vision, and there was a buzzing sound as my wings fluttered in agitation.

She smiled sadly. "I really am very sorry."

I sat down hard, looking at my lean, black carapaced form. "Why aren't I full of holes?" I asked, running my very solid hooves over my thick limbs. Hesitantly, I rubbed my equally smooth and whole horn.

"I don't know actually." She responded, regarding me with frank curiosity. "Only freshly hatched changelings come out so smooth."

"So I'm still different than you." I stood up, facing the queen more squarely. In addition to being more solid, I was taller than her, I had the sneaking suspicion I was more powerful than her to boot. I could see the dawning realization in her eyes as she realized the same thing.

"We don't have to fight." She stated, doing her best to remain formal, but I could hear the tremor of fear in her voice.

"Don't we?" I asked, my voice coldly level, and I realized that this was my killing voice, cheerful, friendly and cold. My smile felt very satisfying curving around my new overly large canine teeth. "Where's Razzle?" I could tell I didn't need to explain that her life depended on the answer.

"We don't have her, she got away after maiming old Jim." She stammered quickly, I could see that she was cowering, backing away. I pressed my advantage, although I was uncertain what I was going to do.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Magic, changelings can connect to emotions, we don't hide secrets amongst ourselves. I'll show you!" Her horn sparked, and before I could react, I was swamped by her perspectives.

At the forefront was a vision of myself, bearing down with terrifying menace. I could feel her heart fluttering against her ribs, her breaths coming in short little gasps. I pulled away with a snort, a voice egged me on, telling me I needed to punish them, it was not their place to condemn ponies. I almost gave it credence, but its ferocity gave me pause, more focused on the pleasure of the fight than on the judgment of their crimes. I blinked, considering her perspective. I had been welcomed in, much as a long lost member of their family, they still had yet to show me any hostility, even the trial by bugs had not been meant to kill me. "What do you do with your captives, aside from feed on them?"

"Well, we take care of their needs, suspending them in an altered reality, using our abilities to convince them that they are living out their normal lives, and we feed while taking the form of their loved ones."

"Tell me more about feeding." I realized now the reality of the situation, I had no idea what it meant to be a changeling. I had no way of even knowing how long I had been one, it was entirely possible I had been since infancy, swapped out for the real Indigo Breeze as a filly, as changelings were said to do.

These were the only changelings I had ever seen or met, as far as I was aware. Who was my real family, where was my hive, if it even still survived? What right did I have to judge a species for surviving, for all I knew there were no alternatives. There was a faint concept of possibility surfacing in the back of my mind, tied in with the question of how I had managed to survive, ignorant of my true nature, and apparently better than ordinary changelings by virtue of my more substantial form.

She was visibly relieved that I had changed my demeanor, and seemed enthusiastic to oblige me. "Well, like I said, we can survive on ordinary food alone, and would starve without it, like any living creature, but to really live, we need the emotions of other beings to sustain us. Love, specifically is the most potent. We're all empathic, and a hive generally is attuned to the emotions of its queen. In times of famine, a queen can feed her hive from a personal reserve of emotion, and she can receive it in turn from her subjects, but this kind of closed, forced feeding inevitably drains the entire hive and can lead to death, although a hive in such dire straits usually dissolves first, underlings no longer being so tied to their weakened Queen." She paused, taking a breath and looking at me hopefully. "Does that answer your question?"

"Not yet. I need to know more about...us. How do queens differ from their underlings?"

"Oh, well, we are all born as underlings, after our first metamorphosis. In the terms of ponies, they are male. Underlings, although independently minded, are generally subservient to a queen, although any Queen has dominion over them. In the very rare occurrence that, as now, there are two Queens present, they remain neutral, until one or the other departs, or... Asserts herself as the leader." She looked petrified as she admitted this, and I took note, considering that this must be why all dots remained blue. "Queens go through a second metamorphosis, as you have. At this point they earn dominion over their underlings and become female. A newborn queen often stays with her mother for decades, learning our race’s secrets.

There is said to have been a third metamorphosis, but none have reached it since the legendary Queen Chrysalis, and the secret of triggering it has since been lost.

“Is that why we don’t have the peacock thingy on our heads?” I asked, gesturing where I felt it should have been.

“Pardon?” She asked, clearly very confused and a little put off.

“Y’know, like Chrysalis, she had a little peacocky/crown looking thingy.” I insisted. “A crest.”

She blinked slowly. “I suppose. Our hive doesn’t have any images of her. Where have you seen such images?”

I almost said Canterlot, but recalled Rusty’s descriptions of what had befallen that city, I wasn’t sure what would sound like a plausible excuse. “A history book?” I offered.

She looked hurt and confused. “Why are you lying to us?”

I had already forgotten what she’d just told me minutes before about changeling empathy. I coughed and shuffled my hooves. “It had been given to me as a top secret military briefing. A long time ago.” That much was truthful. I left out the details such as how long ago, or the fact I’d also seen her image plastered on newspapers as current events even earlier.

“There was once quite a stir about changeling spies, but it never proved to be anything more than a paranoid fear.”

“I see.” She remarked, eyeing me still more speculatively. “I hope I can learn more about your no doubt fantastic past to have come across such treasured mementos.”

“Don’t changelings keep any kind of history or records?”

She frowned, looking deflated. “Our kind did not have stables to prepare and preserve our culture in advance of the cataclysm. I doubt many species did. Our kind are rare in the world, remnants of a lost few who may have managed to infiltrate Stable security measures, or dug deep enough, far enough in time, to stockpile resources. We are said to be capable of long periods of hibernation, but I do not know how long such a slumber can safely last.”

Perhaps that was what had truly kept me alive, when it had seemed my pony body had rotted away over the centuries, no doubt my magical augmentation still had something to do with it, but my survival started to seem a little less absolutely spectacular, perhaps a little more plausible.

“I don’t know how much more I can stand to stay here and talk right now. I have a lot to think about.” I bit my lip. “And I need to go find Razzle...”

Author's Note

This chapter includes special guest star Purple Tinker

I figured that I should probably update again, even if I don't have much more ready to be uploaded yet.

This is the last pre-written completed chapter before I spaced, I have the plot beats for the next few chapters but I never fleshed them out and only have the barest ideas of the plot before I get to the stuff I actually figured out and got invested in telling.

Also I'm like two seasons behind so I don't know if my changeling lore resembles canon at all anymore, hopefully catching up on the show will give me some inspiration for the next couple of chapters.